#hawks choice MADE SENSE

[dittolicous]

If I can be real for a second - what turned me off from BNHA/MHA wasn't even the series itself (though it def has some things I don't care for in the later half) but the fucking real life League of Villains stans who just CONSTANTLY blasted the hero side and acted like LoV were totally in the right just because they have tragic back stories where they were abused or failed by society (it started getting truly unbearable when Hawks killed Twice, like jesus. I will forever argue his actions were entirely valid, if misguided, given the information he had).

Because... it's literally the gif.

The who damn point was that they had valid points, that hero society was fucked up and failing the people who needed help the most... but LoV were not against MURDERING GENUINELY INNOCENT PEOPLE and thus had to be fucking STOPPED. They didn't just kill heros, they'd kill civilians as well. They were actively continuing the cycle that hurt them, just for the other half of society. Their actions weren't about making everyone equal, it was about making others suffer and putting themselves at the top.

Their reasons being understandable and sad DON'T MAKE THEM THE TRUE GOOD GUYS. Just like the heroes weren't purely the good guys because they fought bad guys (fuck Endeavor, all my homies hate Endeavor). It was gray vs gray, not black vs white. Both sides had something they needed to learn or understand, and change as a result of.

I just got so sick of wading through 'LoV is right!' 'Kill Hawks/All Might/etc.' 'All Mights a bad guy' rhetoric, I couldn't enjoy MHA.

[invinciblerodent]

I take the thoughts and SQUASH them back down

You STAY right the fuck where you CAME from

[roguerambles]

I understand the disappointment, I really do, but I think people might be blowing the whole world state thing a bit out of proportion. "This is SPITTING IN THE FACE of long-time fans" no it's not Steve, calm down.

The series has always had to compromise when it comes to the state of the world because so many of the choices (especially from the end of Origins) were so wildly different that trying to build a sequel from so many conflicting factors would be more or less impossible. It's why we've never seen the Architect again, because him being alive or dead has HUGE ripple effects that are damn near impossible to write around.

Heck, it was entirely possible for Anders to die at the end of Awakening, but the writers wrote around it by saying "oh no he actually faked his death" even though logically that made very little sense because at that point he'd have absolutely no reason to do that? But Anders was in the sequel so that had to come up with something.

Basically nothing from Dragon Age 2 was important in Inquisition - Hawke siding with Mages or Templars made no difference, Anders being alive or dead made no difference, whether Carver or Bethany were dead or Wardens or whatever made no difference. We got some flavour text and that was literally it, everything else played out exactly the same.

Hell, the Temple of Sacred Ashes gets blown to bits at the beginning of Inquisition, rendering everything to do with that quest from Origins basically moot. And we've never gone back to Orzammar, and everything we have heard from it has been kept super vague, because depending on who the King is and if Branka is still alive things would look WILDLY different. Crafting a new story there would be borderline impossible because the dozen different possible world states make the foundation shaky at best.

It's why I highly doubt we'll be able to side with Solas and help him tear down the Veil because that would result in basically a whole new world being created. Imagine them trying to make Dragon Age 5 and being like "okay 50% sided with Solas and tore the Veil down and 50% kept the Veil intact....wtf now what do we do--?"

Again, I understand the disappointment, but I just hope once the dust has settled and people calm down a bit they'll see that, realistically, very little has changed. Your saves are still there, your experiences and enjoyment of the games and the characters and the story are still there, but they were always gonna have to draw the line SOMEWHERE.

And that's not to say none of our previous choices will come back - if we get another game, or a spin off or something they'll probably do what they're doing with the Inquisitor now. They're just taking what's relevant to the story they are trying to tell, and leaving what they aren’t going to use presently ambiguous.

[yandere-romanticaa]

she walks in beauty.

🎀 Today is Diluc's birthday. However, instead of focusing on himself, he can't help but to fall into his usual lovesick trap of gentle obsession.

yandere! diluc ragnvidr x fem! reader.

Ever since he was a young lad, Diluc could recall every single banquet and celebration which was hosted by the Dawn Winery estate. He could still sense the smell of various colorful liquors and taste the endless sea of pastries and cakes which were served at such events, making the inner child in him smile.

However, Diluc was no longer a young child.

Ever since the passing of his father, the need to throw any grand banquets was thoroughly diminished. While yes, there were certain things he could not avoid due to societal expectations, he still made the decision to keep things to an absolute minimum.

His birthday was not one of them. At least, not by his choice.

Everyone and their mother knew what day it was today and Diluc lost count with how many birthday wishes and gifts he had received. He was a little touched with the plethora of people who wanted him nothing other than joy, but those same people quickly became a nuisance because he could not seem to be with the one he actually wanted to be with today.

And there stood Diluc, hidden in the shadowy hallway as he watched his beloved prepare for the upcoming festivities. With both his arms crossed and his left side pressed firmly against the dark wood doorframe, Diluc decided in that moment that there was nowhere else he'd rather be than here.

His red eyes watched you thoroughly like a hawk, making sure to remember the ravishing scenery before him.

As much as you disliked his gifts, you didn't have a choice but to accept them this evening. The gentle sapphire necklace hung around your neck perfectly, the fine silver glimmering gently beneath the flickering candle flames. Diluc's gaze quickly shifted to your arms as they toyed with the various strands of hair at the top of your head, carefully adjusting the matching pin he had gotten you not too long ago.

He felt his heart skip a beat once he caught a glimpse of the wedding ring on your finger, causing him to nearly lose his composure and blow his cover altogether. His own ring seemed to come alive as he felt it around his finger, seemingly pulsing with a firey need to just take you, to see the light in your eyes, to beg you to please forgive him-

Even now, he could still hear you weep, for each tear felt like a stab straight into his bleeding heart.

Please, don't lock me away, you pleaded.

"I will be with no one but you. I will give you everything you desire but please Diluc-

Do not keep me as a prisoner!"

He sighed as he fidgeted with his gloved fingers. Diluc hated himself for doing this to you, for making you so utterly miserable. He was the one who took you away, it was him who had stolen that precious smile away from you. If you had been a normal couple perhaps this evening could have been more bearable. Perhaps he could have even enjoyed it, with you by his side.

But that was not how things were going to play out.

Diluc was stuck in a Hell of his own making. Every single tear that you had shed and will shed - that was all on him. Money can buy a lot of things but your love was not one of them. A new surge of determination was born deep inside of Diluc on that night of his birthday and he finally knew what his wish was.

He wished to make amends. Perhaps he could learn to live without your love, even if the mere thought made his teeth shake in fury and heart cry out in blind sorrow.

But he needed you to know that you were loved. He needed you to know that he was going to keep you safe. He was going to love you until his very last breath and even then, he would wait for the day of your sweet forgiveness.

🥀 TAGS: @genshinarchives, @mod-kisa-blog, @juuuuuj101010, @kalopses-sonderes, @mayulli, @b10h4z4rd, @xiaopleasecomehome, @saturnalya, @alatusprinz, @lakxcpsta, @mewmeowmika, @ranposgirlboss, @goldenglow149

Happy birthday to this wonderful man. He was my first ever husband in Genshin Impact, he deserves something extra sweet from yours truly.

[hawkepockets]

this is something i’ve been cooking on for a long time and i’m gonna try to articulate it now—please bear with me 🙏

a lot a lot of the criticism of DA:I i’ve seen from series fans has been made on the micro scale of the dialogue wheel, what dialogue choices are/aren’t available to the inquisitor in specific interactions. there are often chances to be callous, snide, arrogant, and authoritarian; rarely is there an opportunity to espouse what liberal & leftist players consider the “right” views on mages, elves, class, the chantry, etc. and when those opportunities seem to appear on the wheel, the inquisitor’s actual speech tends to hedge more than expected. the game doesn’t “let” you play an outspoken leftie.

i think critiques on this level are missing that structurally, on the macro scale, DA:I isn’t a game that’s capable of being leftist or having an outspoken leftie protagonist. it’s a story about someone whose previous identity is subsumed into the role of inquisitor for an order-restoring religious paramilitary that was created to fix the “problem” of the mage rebellion built up to in DA:O and DA2.

and fundamentally, just as DA:O asks you to play a warden who would end the blight and DA2 asks you to play a hawke who would become champion of kirkwall, DA:I asks you to play someone who would play the part of order-restoring inquisitor and false herald of andraste, even if it pains them, even if they protest strenuously at first, even if it takes the annihilation of who they used to be.

the premise, the inquisitor’s characterization, the gradually exposed legacy of the original inquisition (Jaws of Hakkon), the narrative thread of will/won’t the Inquisition lay down their swords (Trespasser), Morrigan’s outburst about the diminishing of magic in Thedas (What Pride Had Wrought), the power mechanic, the simple fact that maps become emptier, quieter, and less magical as you progress in the game, the clearing of the war table, the impossibility of leaving orlais without an emperor or the chantry without a divine—all of this, all of this! positions peace, order, mundanity, chantry hegemony, and the rule of law and law enforcement as the desirable, inevitable, only possible outcome of playing.

whether you choose the most or least progressive Divine, the most or least destabilizing and compassionate story choices, that remains the fundamental logic of DA:I. it’s the logic of the game’s most liberal companions/advisors (sera, dorian, & leliana). it’s a constraint on what changes can be made to the worldstate. and painting over that with more contrary and political dialogue options wouldn’t do anything. and this is not me saying “throw the whole game out because it was made by canadian libs”—i think DA:I is fun, vexing, moving, and really really interesting! but you kind of have to meet it where it’s at. and it’s a tragedy for the inquisitor. and it was made by canadian libs.

does that make sense??

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎThe Heir౨ৎ꣑ৎ

(requested)(@kayleigh--23 <3) [fem reader] contains: pregnancy angst, arranged marriage, pressure to become pregnant. pairing: young coriolanus snow x fem reader summary: You thought being married to Coriolanus Snow would be enough, but when there is pressure on the two of you to have a child, the events that follow are life changing. author’s note: Oh I do adore pregnancy angst. Another take on the arranged marriage trope, please enjoy! Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

"...an heir."

You could barely hear the words through the door. Your husband of one and a half years and an old Snow family friend, a man called Mr. Vesta, had disappeared into his study an hour ago and they hadn't allowed you in. It had sounded important, and you couldn't help it, you needed to know what it was. Especially after you'd heard your name mentioned more than once.

With one ear to the door, you'd caught bits and pieces of the conversation. None of it made sense in your mind, this new bit of information least of all.

Coriolanus Snow was the least objectionable option when it came to marriage. Not that you'd had a choice at all in the matter, but for your own peace of mind you pretended. You pretended it hadn't been a strategic political move on his part to marry someone from your family. You pretended Mr. Vesta wasn't overbearingly and old fashioned-ly invested in the image the two of you presented as a married couple.

The goal was to make him president. You knew that much. And Mr. Vesta, as well as having known Coriolanus his entire life, had experience in running for office. But you knew very little else. Politics in Panem were a mystery to you, and at times they could be archaic. At least, the things everyone wanted you to do were.

The dresses you had to wear, the people you were seen with, how you acted. Hell, the arranged marriage itself seemed that way to you. But this was how it was done. Your own mother had married your father for similar reasons, though her situation had nothing to do with politics, only social gain. Yours was both.

You went into the marriage with a positive attitude. This will be what you make of it, you'd been told. You figured if you walked in with a positive attitude and determination it would work out the best it could.

But then you met your husband to be.

He was handsome but cold. Charming but manipulative. Attentive at times but distant at most. Every good thing about him was punctuated by a flaw. He'd make a good politician, you'd noted.

The wedding was a blur of photographers and fed lines. He'd barely acknowledged you, and you knew every look, every touch was false. It cheapened the whole experience for you, and a resentment built up inside you.

At least after the wedding night he'd allowed separate bedrooms.

Maybe you'd have felt guilty about your feelings toward him if he'd shown any sign of fondness toward you. But he didn't. He ignored you most days, except when he needed your influence or your image or your body.

Which is why now, in the present, you hardly worried about the consequences of eavesdropping. If they were talking about you in there, you deserved to know.

"...bring her in..."

Forgetting your confidence, you scurried away as quietly as you could, returning to the sitting room, where you'd last been spotted by them. Picking up a book, you pretended to read until Mr. Vesta, an older man with a beard, came in and said that your presence was required in the study.

Ignoring the way he'd spoken to you in your own home, you followed him back through the study doors, nodding at everyone in the room before your eyes moved to your husband.

Coriolanus was sitting behind his desk, a look of discontentment on his face. What had they been talking about in here? You moved to his side automatically. He may have not been your number one pick, but he was the safest person in the room for you to stand by.

Putting your hand on the back of his chair, you looked between them. "What did you need from me?"

"We're here to discuss a proposition," Mr. Vesta said, looking entirely too comfortable. He nodded at your husband. "Snow?"

Coriolanus took in an almost frustrated breath and turned up to you. He held eye contact with you for a moment before speaking. "It has been suggested that we..." he inhaled through his nose. "...produce an heir."

You blinked in surprise, doing a double take. When you looked at the other man, you could see that this wasn't a joke. They were serious.

"...No," you said in disbelief, looking back at your husband. "This was never part of the arrangement."

"Things change," Mr. Vesta said, giving you a pointed look. "It is imperative that you produce an heir by the end of the year. A male heir."

That sentence was so offensive to you that you had to look away for a moment. When you gathered your manners back, you said, "Why is this suddenly so important? Isn't us being married enough?"

"Coriolanus is the last of the Snow name," Mr. Vesta said, seeming to think he was providing an explanation. "It would have to happen eventually. In the best interest of keeping the old family names around."

"I don't see how that serves your interests," you said stiffly, and Coriolanus grabbed your hand, squeezing it as a warning, the cool of his ring pressing into your skin.

"It was of the utmost importance to Crassus that I, specifically, see this through," the bearded man said in stern tones. "He hoped his son would be able to carry it out on his own-" he gave Coriolanus his own pointed look- "but since he has not, it was time for me to step in. Not to mention that having a son would increase political gains greatly. Seeing that an old family is still strong."

You were dazed. It all felt so ridiculous to you. Of all the things they'd made you do for this role, this had to be the worst. They were asking you to not just sleep with a man you hated, but to bear his child. And Coriolanus himself looked less than happy about it.

"Within the year," Mr. Vesta repeated, and he stood up. "Both your image and your obligations to your family depend on it." He nodded stiffly at you, then left. You never got the impression that Mr. Vesta was all that fond of you. He didn't see you as a person, more as a machine that broke now and then but was ultimately served its' purpose.

Once he was gone, you turned to Coriolanus, your expression horrified. "You're not seriously thinking about this are you?"

"We don't have a choice," he said, his voice dangerously quiet.

"Yes we do," you protested, kneeling by his chair, grasping the arm. You were trying to look him in the eye, but he was avoiding you. "We're already married. Your image is intact-"

"But my family isn't," he said sharply, turning suddenly to look at you. "You don't understand. I have a responsibility to continue the line and Vesta reminded me of that." He ran a hand through his hair frustratedly. "I apologize that I didn't disclose this before but it's not optional."

"Coriolanus-"

"You think I want to do this?" His voice was irritated, and he stood up suddenly. You did too, surprised.

"No, but-"

"We have to," he said angrily, pacing. "I don't want to do it either but there are no other options. I need Vesta's support, and unfortunately that comes with the wishes of my late father."

You were silent, tears pricking your eyes as you realized this was really going to have to happen. Scoffing in disbelief and trying to hide your emotion, you buried your face in your hands.

He sighed, and you heard him move closer to you, his polished shoes making a distinct sound on the hardwood floor. "Sweetheart...I'm sorry. I am. But you're my wife. You know that means fulfilling certain...obligations."

Coriolanus took your hands in his, removing them from your face. "We'll make the process as quick as possible, okay?"

When you nodded, there was a ghost of a smile on his face. "That's a good girl. The sooner you're pregnant the sooner it'll be over with."

It was terrifying how well Coriolanus knew himself.

The domineering persona he'd built up when entering the political game may as well have become him. It was a skill he'd honed- the art of pretend.

But every thorn had its flower.

You.

Before meeting you he had high hopes for marriage. He'd hoped you'd be tolerable to look at, decent in conversation, with half a brain. Someone who'd please him, but nothing more.

But you were far beyond that.

Upon your first meeting he knew he was doomed. You were extraordinarily beautiful, with a pretty laugh. And so clever. You'd discussed literature and art so naturally, easy as breathing. Within the first hour of knowing you he knew he could fall deeply, madly in love with you.

And therein laid the problem.

Love was not the goal. In fact, love strayed so far from the goal that it was almost the opposite. If Coriolanus fell in love with you, it would ruin him. His mind, his soul, his pursuits. He'd gone to Vesta afterward and asked if there was anyone else, anyone at all. Surely there was some other girl who was less...enticing, but still had good connections.

Vesta hadn't seen a problem with the arrangement. He'd chided Coriolanus for it. He had the most sought-after woman in the Capitol. Your social status would make him more favorable in the eyes of voters, as would seeing him in love. Seeing no other options, Coriolanus had agreed.

To marrying you, not being in love.

He'd endured the game, accompanying you to dinners and galas, and going through with the wedding, all the while keeping you at arm's length. Coriolanus resolved that the only way to keep himself from falling in love was distance. And distance he maintained.

Except for at public events, he avoided you. Occasionally, he'd beckon you to his bed, whenever he needed to relieve some stress or tension, but that was the extent of it. He couldn't help himself- you were just so perfect. And you were his wife after all.

No matter how he justified his actions, it still felt wrong.

With Vesta's newest demand Coriolanus felt his control over the situation slipping. The old man didn't know what he was asking of him. Honestly how could he have, but it was still frustrating. He was asking them to produce a child as casually as one would ask a favor.

The worst part was seeing how distraught you were over it. A bit of his heart had warmed at seeing how you'd come to stand by his side but it was squashed quickly by what he had to tell you.

An heir. And not just an heir, a son.

Coriolanus could have strangled Vesta. It was ridiculous how invested he was in such private affairs. But his father's old friend was experienced in an area he desperately needed help in: politics. So, he had no choice but to accept.

Seeing you on the verge of tears had nearly broken him. He allowed himself to comfort you, just a little, convincing himself that that was what any husband would do, even if he didn't love his wife, which Coriolanus certainly didn't.

You fell pregnant quickly, which he was thankful for. For his sake but surprisingly, more for yours.

Naturally, he kept close tabs on you while still trying to maintain the distance he'd determined was the best solution for the situation. Reports were delivered to him daily.

You were quiet most days, hardly speaking to anyone. He felt guilt over that. Vesta and their public relations team had determined that for the first bit of pregnancy it was best for the two of you to stay out of the spotlight. That meant you were hardly able to leave. And with his insistence on distance, well...it was inevitable that you'd be lonely.

As the months progressed, his reports contained more concerning information. You were losing weight at an alarming rate, becoming more drawn. The baby was doing exceptionally well thanks to the doctors he'd brought in. But you...you were suffering for it.

He saw evidence of this when he was standing at the window of his study one day, taking a pause from his work, when he saw you in the rose garden wandering amongst the blooms.

The reports had not done your condition justice. Even from the window on the third floor he could see how thin you were, even with your belly swelling.

Beautiful, he couldn't help thinking as he watched you. Even in your current state, you were glowing. He tossed a look over his shoulder at his papers, a mountain of work he suddenly did not feel like doing. then in a split-second decision, he abandoned his study and headed down the stairs, rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt.

Heading into the rose garden, he hesitated at the sight of you. You were bent slightly over a flower, lifting the rose to your nose. The corners of your lips turned up slightly as the fragrance hit you. Turning slightly, you caught sight of him, and straightened, your hand sliding over your belly immediately. "Coriolanus."

"Sweetheart," he greeted, stepping closer.

You looked a little puzzled. "Did you need something?"

He felt a little dazed, unsure really why he came out here. "No...I just..." Coriolanus was now less than a foot away from you. "I wanted to see how you were."

Your expression grew slightly more surprised, but you stayed graceful. "I see."

"Yes," he said, unable to stop looking at you.

Biting your lip, you looked to the side, fingers splayed out over your belly. "I'd have thought you'd gotten enough from your reports."

He blanked. "You know about those?"

"You aren't very discreet," you said, giving a tight smile. "Besides, I know you. You're nosy."

He sniffed a laugh at that. "It's hardly being nosy when it's concern for my wife."

Silence.

Your hand fell off your belly and you moved to examine another rose, a white one. "I didn't know you cared for my wellbeing."

He followed you, tracing your steps. "You're carrying my child, sweetheart."

"Not by either of our choice," you said softly. You reached over your belly to touch one of the rose petals on the outside of the flower. "It is an obligation."

"And yet here we are," he said, picking the rose. He snapped the stem, tucking it behind your ear, his hand sliding under your chin, lifting your eyes to his. "Making the best of our situation."

Your doe eyes as you looked up at him nearly melted his heart. Coriolanus wished he could paint a portrait of you as you were right now: belly round and full of his child, one of his family roses in your hair. You looked so utterly his.

"You haven't been well sweetheart," he murmured, thumb stroking your cheek. "Even if I wasn't getting reports-"

"I'm fine. As fine as I can be," you said quietly, trying to avoid his eyes. "Growing a child is taxing, believe it or not."

"This is different." Coriolanus took your hand, which hung limply in his. "I worry about you."

"There is no need for it." You walked over to a stone bench, sitting with both your hands beside you. Your dress fell over your belly in such a way that your knees were not visible. The little detail made you all the more endearing to him.

"Darling." Coriolanus sat beside you, taking your hand once again. "I know this is hardly ideal, but I need you to try."

"What on earth do you think I have been doing?" you asked, looking up at him.

"You're fading," he said simply.

Taking in a breath, you turned slightly to face him. "I'm doing the best I can. I'm pregnant, you'll have your boy. There is nothing more to ask of me."

"Part of that obligation is taking care of yourself," he said, looking you straight in the eye.

"Am I not doing enough?" you exhaled softly. "I don't know why you're so concerned. You've ignored me for the brunt of our marriage. You do not seem to feel any affection for me. I don't see why you should care."

"You know exactly why I care," he insisted, his tone growing frustrated. "I cannot watch you wither away into nothing."

He stood up, holding out his hand. "When is the last time you ate?"

You bit your lip, casting your eyes to the side as you thought. "This morning."

It was nearly the evening. "Come. Let's find something."

"Coriolanus," you said exasperatedly.

"Sweetheart," he said earnestly back, extending his hand further. Even though he wanted to stay distant, there was a protective urge festering inside him, one he couldn't ignore like he'd done in the past.

You pursed your lips for a moment, then seemed to decide something. Taking his hand, you carefully stood up and let him lead you back up to the house.

As he found you something to eat, he thought of his earlier promise to himself not to let himself fall for you. He knew deep down that you had the potential to entrance him, make him adore you. Despite his aversion to this trait of yours, he knew he couldn't keep you at arm's length any longer. Not when your health was on the line.

Perhaps he could resist but stay close.

Your pregnancy progressed with a few things to note.

The first being that your health improved greatly. You were kept under watch, and your weight became less concerning. You found yourself feeling better, a little less tired all the time.

The second notable thing was the sudden closeness of your husband.

Since the day in the rose garden, he had become warmer towards you, more open. He took meals with you every day, diligently making sure you'd eaten enough.

One evening he summoned you to his study, surprising you.

"Is something the matter?" You stood in front of his desk, slightly worried. You'd rushed up so quickly that you hadn't put your book down, your finger still marking your place.

"Will you sit with me?" he requested, gesturing to the seat in front of him.

You tilted your head, sitting down carefully, hand over your belly. "Is everything alright?"

"Of course," he said, nodding. "I just...wanted you to be close to me. Read your book."

Slowly, you nodded, leaning back in your chair. You opened your book and began to read, peering up to see that he'd begun writing again. Slightly confused but surprisingly pleased that he wanted you near, your eyes found the page again.

Shifting in your chair, you did your best to get comfortable, but it proved to be a difficult task. Your belly didn't exactly make things accommodating for you. Doing simple tasks with ease was becoming increasingly harder.

Apparently, this fact was noticeable to your husband as well. He set his pen down. "Darling?"

You looked up. "Hmm?"

Coriolanus patted his lap. "Come sit."

Tilting your head, your brow furrowed confusedly. "You want me to-?"

"You're uncomfortable," he said, leaning back in his chair, his arms open and ready for you. "Come."

Hesitantly you stood up, book in hand, and went around the desk to sit across his thighs. He secured an arm around you, a little over your belly and you leaned back against him comfortably. "Is this okay?"

"More than," he said, smiling just a little. "Stay here."

And with that, he went back to his papers, working with one hand and keeping you against him with the other. You returned to your reading, perfectly content against him.

This became a routine of sorts. You'd come shyly into his study; he'd hold out an arm for you and you'd sit on his thigh and read. You began to look forward to it, to this time you spent together. His touch was somehow comforting to you.

That was the third thing to note. How much you liked his closeness. The way he went out of his way to make sure you were comfortable, to make sure you weren't lonely.

That wasn't to say there weren't challenges.

At the first gala you attended with him since becoming pregnant, you knew it was going to be a trying affair. Coriolanus was attentive, whispering to you that he'd get you out as soon as possible.

Dressed in a white gown that accentuated your pregnancy, you knew pictures of you and Coriolanus would be splashed across every headline. Keeping that in mind, you did your best to be gracious, to smile and say the right things.

But, three hours into an event that would surely last all night, you found yourself becoming weary. You tugged at Coriolanus' arm, which you'd been glued to all night, but he didn't notice. He was speaking with a senator, engrossed in conversation.

His wife turned to you, starting to speak. "How have things been so far? With the baby?"

You smiled tightly, not upset with her, but tired. "Very well. It's been a wonderful experience."

"How lovely," she smiled, eyeing your figure. "It is a wonder to be sure. A great deal of people have thought you'd never give him a child."

You didn't quite know how to respond to that, so you merely smiled shyly.

"And you're certain it's a boy? We certainly don't need any more young girls around here," the woman laughed, oblivious to your discomfort.

"I suppose we'll see," you nodded, stifling a yawn with your hand and tugging at Coriolanus' arm again. He didn't respond.

"I suppose you aren't eating enough then," the woman noted, raising an eyebrow as she caught your yawn. "If you were you wouldn't be so tired. Or thin for that matter. I know when I was-"

"Darling," Coriolanus cut in, turning to you. "I believe it is time for us to leave." He nodded politely at the woman in front of you and escorted you out, one hand holding one of yours and the other on your back.

Once you were alone at home, you started to cry, a hand over your mouth as you let yourself break down. Your fatigue, the unsolicited advice, the comments on your appearance...it was all too much. You couldn't stand any of it.

It was just another reminder to you of how alone you were. You had no friends- the women of the Capitol were less than inviting, only speaking to you out of obligation and jealousy. And your husband...well, you weren't sure what to think of him at the moment.

Knowing you needed to move around to calm yourself down, you left your room, wandering down the hallway. You tried to keep your breathing even, a hand on your heart as you walked.

You stumbled upon the ballroom, opening the door and wandering inside. The vast emptiness of the large room made you feel small, and you marveled at the feeling. Sometimes being married to Coriolanus made everything feel more heightened. But being alone in this large room made everything feel smaller...less important. It was wonderful.

There was a piano in the corner of the room, and you meandered over to it, running your fingers along the keys. In your training as a socialite, you'd had several lessons in the instrument, but it had been a long time since you'd played.

You sat on the bench carefully, positioning your hands on the keys and beginning to play an old favorite. Muscle memory was your companion, and your fingers moved nimbly and easily. It was comforting to know that you still knew how to do it, that not everything in your past was easily forgotten.

When you looked up after you finished playing, Coriolanus was standing in the doorway. The corners of his mouth were turned up slightly, and he walked over to you. You turned slightly on the bench as he did.

Your husband knelt in front of you, taking your hands in his and bringing them to his lips. He lifted his eyes to meet yours, seeming to take you in. You were still in the same white dress you'd worn to the event. He squeezed your hands. "I'm sorry. I know tonight was hard."

Closing your eyes, you nodded, trying not to cry again. "I'm okay." Coriolanus was still looking up at you when you opened your eyes, and you gave him a small smile when you saw how sincere he was in his apology.

"Are you tired?" he asked softly, searching your eyes.

You shook your head. Somehow your fatigue had vanished somewhere in your walk through the halls.

"Okay." He nodded and stood up, helping you stand as well. "Will you come with me?"

It was a genuine question, and you nodded at it, somehow trusting him more in that moment than you ever had before.

He led you upstairs and up to a door you recognized as his room. You hesitated before going inside but ultimately decided to follow him. Coriolanus kicked off his shoes and sat you down on his bed, hands in yours. "Are you well?"

"Yes, I'm fine," you managed, looking down at your joined hands.

"Darling," he murmured.

"I just...it gets so lonely sometimes," you said softly, looking up at him.

"Oh, sweetheart," Coriolanus breathed, lifting your chin and searching your eyes. "I had no idea."

You closed your eyes, shaking your head. "It just gets to be too much sometimes."

His hand came to your face, thumb stroking your cheek. "Sweetheart." You opened your eyes. He brought his forehead to yours, the gesture surprisingly comforting. "I'm sorry. I never meant for you to feel this way."

"I feel like I'm all alone in this," you said quietly, rubbing a hand over your belly.

Coriolanus pulled you closer to him, his expression softer than you'd ever seen it. He kissed your temple. "I'm sorry darling. I know that's my fault."

"It's not. Not really," you murmured, leaning into him. "I know you didn't want this."

"That doesn't mean you should suffer for it," he kissed your forehead. Then Coriolanus took your face into his hands, and you leaned into his touch. "I want you to know how grateful I am for you."

You softened between his hands, looking up at him with doe eyes. "Grateful?"

"Grateful," he clarified, looking over you, your body and your belly. "Grateful because you have given yourself wholly to me. And you might say you didn't have a choice. But you did. And you chose to do this for me. Whatever the reason is, I am grateful for you."

You were stunned at this, your lips parting slightly. He saw you. He had seen you and he cared. A tiny smile made its way onto your face as you looked up at him. "That means a great deal."

"You deserve more than a great deal," he breathed, his hands sliding from your cheeks to your shoulders. "After everything...what you've given me..."

His voice was husky. "Nobody's ever done anything close to this much for me. You..."

"Coriolanus," you whispered, your lips ever so close to his. Months ago, you never would have allowed it, never would have gotten so close. But things were different now. The child growing inside you had changed everything.

"I'll never let you feel alone again," he breathed. "Never let you feel undervalued, unappreciated...nothing less than what you are."

"And what's that?" you asked.

"Beautiful," he murmured. "The beautiful mother of my child. A woman who is more than I deserve."

"Hardly," you looked up at him, feeling like you were seeing him for the first time. His expression was caring, his touch gentle. He seemed so different now than he was at the start of your marriage.

"Let me show you." Coriolanus muttered, hands coming back to yours, lifting them and kissing your fingers once more.

Your heart pounded, breath quickening, and you nodded. He set your hands down, moving his hand to the zip of your dress and pulling back slightly to look at you. You nodded and turned so he'd have easier access. He slid the zip down carefully and you helped him move the dress over your shoulders and down your body. It ended up as a pile of fabric beside his bed.

Gently, Coriolanus laid you back onto the bed, eyes roaming over you. He appeared entranced by you. Your skin was glowing, your body curvier, belly swollen. His lips parted. "Beautiful," he breathed, leaning down. Your lips were terribly close to his...

You took the final step and pressed your lips to his, capturing them in a kiss that started innocent but quickly became searing.

He pulled you in by the waist, pressing you against him. You knew from experience that Coriolanus' kisses were hungry, but tonight he must have been starving. The way his lips moved against yours was sinful, but you wanted it, wanted it bad.

Your hands moved of their own accord, tugging at his shirt buttons and discarding the garment once it was unbuttoned. His pants were the next to go, joining your dress and his shirt on the floor. When he kissed you, his hands wandered over your body, reaching for the clasp of your undergarment. His touch set you on fire.

When he'd gotten you completely bare and he was in the same state, he pulled back, not kissing you for a moment, just looking. You squirmed a little under his gaze, which was intense although caring. "What is it?" you questioned softly.

"Breathtaking." He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "You...carrying my child...you're very nearly a goddess."

That made the corners of your lips turn up sweetly, and you pulled him down for another kiss, his body hovering over you, careful not to put too much weight on your belly.

As you laid tangled in his sheets in the aftermath of it, your body was more wholly satisfied than it had been in a long time. You looked over at him, smiling softly and resting on your side. He reached out and rested his hand back on your cheek, stroking your soft skin. You felt a connection with him then, for the first time since your pregnancy began.

Coriolanus leaned down and kissed you, his lips soft and feather light. He moved on the bed, so he was facing you. The soft light combined with what you'd just done made him look a way that pulled at your heart.

His eyes never left yours. You recognized that look. He was making sure you were comfortable, that you felt safe. Usually, you only saw that look at public events but seeing it right now after something so intimate sent a flutter through you.

"Will you stay tonight?" he murmured, one hand in your hair.

"Yes," you breathed. He opened his arms and let you snuggle close. As you drifted off, you felt one of his hands wander to your belly, caressing it gently. It was the first time he'd really touched it your entire pregnancy.

For the first time, you began to think of the baby in your belly as yours too. A baby. Your hand ran over your bump, and you smiled softly. It was both of your child. As much yours as it was his.

And you didn't mind it one bit.

He had vowed not to fall for you.

He had spent countless hours convincing himself he hadn't.

But after the night of the gala, he couldn't deny it anymore.

Every time Coriolanus looked at you, whether it be at the breakfast table when the sunlight filtered through the windows and hit your face just right, or when he looked up from his work every night when you were on his lap to see your concentrated face as you read, he felt the tendrils of feeling close around his heart.

He found himself becoming more affectionate with you. He used your pet names in an abundance, and he always felt like he needed to be touching you. You were the bright point in his life.

The last months of your pregnancy were bliss. Vesta rarely called on him, so he was free to spend all he free time with you.

Walking in the gardens, reading side by side. He'd press a kiss to your temple now and then, keeping you close, making sure you were well.

He feared childbirth for you the closer you got to it. Thoughts of his own mother, and the stories he'd heard of swam through his head and he held you a little tighter because of it.

Now he insisted you sleep in the same room as him, wanting to keep an eye on you. Sometimes he'd wake in the middle of the night and just watch you sleep, making sure your breathing was steady, wanting to be around in case you needed anything. He was paranoid you'd go into labor while he was asleep.

And of course, when you finally did, he was.

You woke him in a panic, the bedsheets soaked, telling him in hurried tones that it was time, that the baby was coming. He leapt into action immediately, sending for the doctor. The two of you had fallen asleep in your bedroom tonight, and when he tried to move you, you whimpered and shook your head, a cramp rippling through your body.

The doctor arrived, and everything was a blur after that. He never left your side, even though the sight of you in pain made him feel faint.

Before the both of you knew it, the baby was out, and you were collapsing back into the pillows, your body exhausted. Coriolanus looked over to the doctor, who was holding his new baby...

Girl.

Coriolanus stood up, his heart racing. A girl. Vesta would be furious. He was just outside the door after all, expecting the news any moment now.

He went to stand by the window as the doctor handed you the baby, gathering his thoughts. What would he tell Vesta? More importantly, what was the man going to do? His blood started to boil as he thought of Vesta hurting you in any way for this.

Looking over at you with the baby girl in your arms, close to your chest, he was filled with a sense of wonder. You'd grown his child, pushed it out of your body, and he was supposed to be upset that it wasn't a boy?

The door burst open, and Vesta revealed himself, looking over the scene. You rushed to cover yourself, and Coriolanus moved to your side, making sure you had some privacy.

"For heaven's sake Vesta," he said protectively. "You couldn't have allowed us ten minutes?"

"Not when the bloodline is at stake, my boy," Vesta said, grinning. "So, your son?"

"Not a son," you spoke up, cradling the baby close to you. You smiled down at your daughter, who was fast asleep.

The man's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what she said, Vesta," Coriolanus said in quiet tones. "Not a son. A daughter."

Vesta's face grew cold. "This is unacceptable. A daughter isn't good for the family."

"And yet," Coriolanus folded his arms, still standing in front of you.

"She will have to be hidden away. We'll tell the public the baby was stillborn," Vesta moved forward, as if to take the child from you.

You shook your head, holding the baby tight to your chest. "No, no don't."

"To have a firstborn daughter isn't good for your image," Vesta reached out for the baby. "Your wife is clearly defective in some way. We'll have the child taken away. Given to another Capitol family."

"No," you cried out, looking fearfully up at Coriolanus. You looked so scared, and the surge of protectiveness that shot through him was amplified with what you said next. "Coriolanus, don't let him take her."

As Vesta moved toward you, Coriolanus stood in his path. "You won't be taking our daughter."

Vesta's face grew sterner still. "I beg your pardon?"

Coriolanus was unmoving. "A son will come eventually. But in the meantime, our daughter will be claimed as ours."

"Your image-" Vesta started.

"Will not be ruined by a child," he cut him off. Coriolanus took a step toward Vesta, his frame tall and intimidating. "Since I enlisted your help in my career, you have been rude, demanding, and disrespectful, especially toward my wife." He glanced back at you. Your eyes were wide as you held the baby.

"If I ever see you insult my wife again," Coriolanus started, his voice quiet but deadly. "Even if I hear of it, I will not hesitate to make you disappear. You see, since last year, my resources have grown exceptionally. I suppose I have you to thank for that."

Vesta was silent, looking shocked at his words.

"Now get out before I have you escorted," Coriolanus pointed at the door. "Out."

Vesta huffed, straightening his suit. "If your career collapses, you'll only have yourself to blame." He cast a dirty look at you. "Well, I suppose not only you."

And with that, the older man left.

Coriolanus stood there seething for a moment. He had half a mind to run to his study and call the right people to have Vesta taken out right now. But he controlled himself. Later, he thought.

For now, he turned to you, kneeling beside the bed and pushing sweaty strands out of your face. "I'm sorry sweetheart."

"You stood up for me," you said, smiling softly as you looked up at him. You looked down at the baby. "You didn't let him take her."

"How could I?" Coriolanus murmured, leaning in and nudging his nose with yours, which made you smile again. "How could I when I..." he swallowed. "When I love you too much to let that happen."

Your eyes widened a bit, your smile sweeter. "You love me?"

"I think I've loved you ever since I've known you," he said, the adrenaline from the interaction with Vesta seeming to give him courage. "And after this..." he reached down to the baby, stroking her soft little cheek with his finger. "I can't keep it in anymore."

You watched as he sat on the bed next to you, encircling you and the baby in his arms, pushing a kiss to your hair. He smiled, a real smile he always found himself wearing around you.

"I didn't think I'd be able to love you when I married you," you said quietly, looking up at him. "But somehow I do."

He lifted your chin, kissing you briefly. "You love me?" He'd repeated your words, which made you smile.

"I love you," you confirmed, looking into his eyes. You looked so tired, but happy. He'd never understood before how one could feel happy because of someone else's joy, but now he did.

He kissed you again, wrapping his arms tightly around you and the baby, around his little family.

The sun rose that morning, the dawn of a new day, but also a new life for him. He now truly had his wife and his daughter, both so loved.

And he was loved too.

come talk about coryo here!

[silantryoo]

baek harin x reader

WARNINGS ; TRIGGER WARNING! heavy manipulation, love bombing, possessiveness, gaslighting, physical and emotional abuse, spoilers up to episode 8 of pyramid game

your thoughts ran wild.

harin probably already knew. somehow, she always figured out what you were thinking, as if you were an open book. she could tell your worries and your fears by glancing at you.

you did well. you knew that she would be proud of you, but still...

you shook your head. now wasn't the time to be nervous.

smoke wafted around the baekyeon heiress as you approached her, her eyes drifting in the distance. in her hand, a cigarette, laced with gold and stuffed with toxins that harin always seemed to indulge herself in.

her head tilted towards you, a dull sparkle in her eye.

"so?"

her voice was monotone, carrying out a sense of boredom that she only showed to a few others.

you watched her in all her beauty, the curls of the fog shaping the area around her. the heiress was stunning, and it always took you a couple seconds to reel yourself back to reality.

harin rolled her eyes as she approached you, tapping the side of her smoke as a warning.

instinctively, you straightened, your eyes wide as she smiled.

there was something so addictive about frightening you, something that was true genuine fear laced with an undying loyalty. you were impossible to replicate, a faithful dog waiting by her bedside.

you took a deep breath, inhaling the smoke through your nose. "i got ambushed by jaeun, suji, and them."

"i thought so." another puff of smoke exited her mouth. "did they mention anything?"

anything else?

you bit your tongue, your face ridden with guilt.

you were tired of the game, tired of getting hurt. as much as you yearned for harin's happiness, the exhaustion was getting to you. you just wanted one day to yourself, without eunbyeol and harin breathing down your back.

"no."

harin's eyes hardened, her gaze trained on you like a hawk. her pupils took in the sight; your quivering mouth, your avoidant stare...

she smiled.

"why don't i believe you?" harin clicked her tongue, pointing the end of her smoke near your cheek. "is it because you're lying to me?"

she knew. how did she know?

"no, i just..."

("join us.")

you never questioned why class 1-5 were in the middle of nowhere.

the building was nice, decorated with marble columns and sleek white paint. the washrooms were clean, close by, and rarely messy except for the occasional tissue lying on the ground.

it felt as if you were purposely isolated, the twenty-four other girls in your class being the only ones in reach.

sometimes, you even forgot other classes existed.

"harin's a fucking bitch."

you paused. kim dayeon?

a girl like her wouldn't be caught dead in the library. there was no reason for her to be here, much less talk shit about the heiress of the entire school.

you kept your mouth shut as your thoughts wandered to the girl in question.

baek harin.

pretty, intelligent, soft-spoken. from what you've seen, all those things were right. you were always too shy to approach her, your thoughts clouded by the beauty that she held. from what you heard from others, she was the embodiment of niceness, going out of her way to lend others money with nothing in return (yet).

why would dayeon even say these things about her?

"god, you think she's all high and mighty." dayeon muttered, her feet shuffling as she paced back and forth. "that psycho probably wants us to worship the ground she walks on."

psycho? baek harin wasn't a psycho.

"a hierarchy game?" dayeon could already see it in her head. she had no choice but to agree at that moment, wanting to spare herself from her father later that day, but when harin had mentioned it... "is she demented?"

"pyramid game, dayeon." seo doah. that made sense as to why dayeon was here. "if you're gonna insult it, at least name it properly."

"shut it."

"you might also wanna check if anyone else is in the library." your throat ran dry as doah stood up, staring at you across the room. "right, y/n?"

you shot up, your eyes wide as dayeon stared at you. there was something in her eyes that was unfamiliar.

fear? what was she scared of? surely, it wasn't harin.

"um..."

"fuck." your eyes widened at her words. never in your life would you have thought that the eccentric kim dayeon would swear like a sailor. "don't you dare say shit, you understand me?"

you shook your head, your body stiff. "i won't-"

"you don't know what the fuck is at risk here." dayeon's anger roared throughout the library, her fist shaking. dayeon wouldn't hit you... right? "open your mouth and i'll stitch it shut."

you nodded, trembling as you packed your things to leave.

"jeez, dayeon..." doah shook her head.

you stood up, your bag half open, and your textbooks barely inside. in your arms, you gathered everything that you could, arms shaking as you rushed out the room.

a spark of fear lighted up inside you when you saw daeyeon fingernails imbed themselves into the soft skin of her palm. the crescents swelled a bright red, and you knew that she wasn't joking.

she was gonna hurt you. was she gonna hurt harin as well?

you needed to get out of here, maybe even tell harin how insane and dangerous her friend seemed.

how was that even possible? how could someone like dayeon hold a rage inside themselves like that? you could understand it from that suck up, wooyi, but dayeon?

you stumbled slightly as you turned the corner, the books nearly falling out of your bag as you collided with someone. a strong, sculpted hand grabbed your elbow, electricity shooting up your arm.

that feeling...

"is something wrong?"

her breath smelt faintly of nicotine, her perfume - one you assumed cost at least a couple hundred dollars - blocking the scent enough to not register in your brain.

you bit your tongue. "no..."

"you can tell me, y/n-ah." your heart leaped at her words, a cloud of affection and care seemingly coating them. "i don't bite."

harin's smile seemed so soft and elegant, like the status she so desperately upheld. her eyes gleamed gently (and if you looked any closer, void of life) as her cheeks dusted in a costly blush.

don't snitch. you thought as her worried gaze peered into your soul. why should i protect dayeon?

you bit your tongue, your chest bursting with guilt at the thought of dayeon laying a finger on the heiress in front of you.

"dayeon..." you whisper as an eyebrow on her pretty face raised. "she, um, she might hurt you."

you waited for harin's face to shift into worry, into fear, into a normal reaction. you waited for her lips to part and ask 'why?', to ponder what your words truly meant.

instead, she laughed, as if the thought of dayeon hurting her was a part of some greco-roman comedy and not a tragedy.

harin let go of your arm, moving your hair out of your face as your eyebrows furrowed.

"so i'm guess you heard about my game as well?"

you nod. you had forgotten that those threats had stemmed from some game dayeon had mentioned.

a hierarchy game... a pyramid game.

"what do you think about it?" harin's eyes shone in a playful demeanor, full of curiosity and excitement. you couldn't fathom why or how she wasn't worried. "doesn't it sound fun?"

the air shifted around you as her irises seemed to blacken. a heavy burden settled on your chest as she face twitched into a smile, and you felt compelled - forced - to agree.

"it does," you chuckled awkwardly. "i guess."

a soft hum escaped her mouth, her eyes glancing at your face, taking in the fear that had shifted from dayeon to her. behind your eyes, she saw something... something exciting.

the heiress smiled.

"i hope you're in 'a' with me." you had no idea what she meant, but the thought of being near baek harin made the room spin. "it'll be lonely without you."

she stepped beside you, a gentle touch on your shoulder. her breath wafted close to your ear as she spoke with a stiff voice, one you wouldn't recognize as harin's.

"thanks for the heads up about dayeon." you shivered, a cool line shooting up your spine. "i'll deal with her."

she walked away as a deep pit in your stomach emerged.

deal with her?

you gripped your books tighter as you listened to the fading footsteps, and the soft "hello, can i speak to mr. kim? it's harin." in the distance.

you didn't know why, but somehow, you made the wrong decision.

you were never scared of blood.

it was a liquid that flowed inside you and every person's body, just like how water seeped from the sky and into the ground. blood was a natural process, nothing more and nothing less.

but when you saw that knife, drenched from your classmate's fresh wound...

you shivered at the thought, while harin's soft hands fiddled with a strand of your hair.

"do you feel bad for her?" harin's smile never disappeared, not since the game started. it didn't disappear when crimson dripped onto the floor, either. "woori?"

her lifeless eyes bore into yours, jolts of electricity and fire rising throughout your fingertips and cheeks. her hand, close enough to feel your breath, paused as the rest of harin's body stilled.

all of her stopped, as if so curious about your thoughts that each cell of hers had to still.

"you can be honest." her breath laced in nicotine once more, her perfume no longer covering the overwhelming scent. "i wanna know."

woori was an 'f'.

being an 'a' yourself, you had the right to torture her, to manipulate and ridicule her.

you never did, leaving it up to dayeon to do whatever she pleased with her. part of you still felt bad for what happened earlier in the year, and each time you blinked, you remembered the heavy-handed bruises left on dayeon's face the day after you had told harin about the library incident.

you understood woori, though. the mental toll it must've taken, being bullied throughout the day, months on end without another student looking your way. telling the teachers only resulted in a beating at best, and at worst...

your eyes clenched tightly as your brain replayed that video.

"a little..."

harin chuckled, pulling her hand away and fishing out a cigarette.

"you saw her cut jaeun up." harin muttered through her smoke, her delicate fingers wrapped around the golden band.

you remember the marble on the classroom floor stained red in a way that you didn't think it would.

blood wasn't scary. fear was.

"i did."

"and you still feel bad." harin inhaled, smoke leaving her nostrils as she looked you up and down. "interesting..."

as of late, harin had been smoking around you more and more often. whether it be behind the shed or simply just the two of you in the library, clouds of smoke seemed to follow her, and in turn, you.

the first time it had happened, you had coughed violently, taken off guard as the heiress smiled. your tears were exciting to her, much like your overwhelming sense of loyalty clashing with your morality.

she had never met anyone who was so inwardly conflicted.

"did she really drop out, harin-ah?"

harin blinked, standing up from her chair as she snubbed the end of her cig on some random book cover in front of her. she threw the smoke onto the floor, grinding it with her heel. her eyes were cold, and dark, and you knew that you had messed up again.

you didn't cough this time around. she had no reason to be mad.

the heiress gathered her belongings, sparing not a single glance your way.

"y/n?"

your heart skipped a beat.

"yeah?"

"my name's harin." she glanced at you, unamused. "don't call me that again."

seong suji.

the girl was nice, a little naive to the happenings of class 2-5. you could tell from a mile away that the girl wanted to stay low and let time pass its course, but you knew better than anyone that she had a target on her back.

everyone's attention had been on her from the moment whispers spread about a new girl transferring into the class. the moment she stepped into the room, you watched as harin's eyes lit up, and a fire blazed inside you.

you didn't know whether it was guilt or jealousy.

"are you stupid?" harin clenched her teeth as she hovered over you, her eyes hardening like coals under pressure. "telling the new girl about my game?"

suji didn't hear the predators hiding in the tall grass. she didn't see their eyes, nor did she notice their bloodlust-filled gazes, but she felt it, and there were only two people in her mind who seemed to lack the barbarity that lingered in the empty halls of the complex.

"look at me!"

your eyes snapped to harin's, anger exuding from her lips as puffs of smoke filled the air and ashes fell onto the ground.

you winced.

"harin..." you had never seen this side of her, not directed at you. you had always watched from the distance as opposed to being the target. "i just thought-"

"did you?" harin's lips curled in a way that could only be described as disbelief, your utter incompetence boggling her mind. "or are you just as stupid as your dropout brother?"

you winced, the low blow winding your self-esteem.

"she looked confused." you tried your best to reason with an iron wall. "i didn't want her to feel like-"

harin's eyes widened, and her usual curiosity morphed into an unfiltered rage.

"like who? woori? jaeun?" she exhaled another cloud, your face getting covered in smoke as you struggled to breath. "you're so fucking stupid."

you felt the heiress lean closer, the tip of the cigarette centimeters away from your cheek.

"i'm sorry."

"you're sorry?" harin could feel her blood boiling. everything was ruined. "i had a plan. you ruined it for me. you ruined my game, y/n."

you closed your eyes, trying to drown out the sharp words and the blanket of burden that harin enveloped you with.

you just wished harin would go back to being curious and playful, and leave you ignorant to the fact that deep down, she was the monster dayeon had implied many months ago.

with a weak voice, you tried to reason. "i didn't mean to..."

"you didn't-" harin backed away, ripping the smoke from her lips and into her fingertips. "give me your hand."

your eyes widened.

"harin-"

she grabbed your wrist with a surprising amount of strength. her nails dug into your arm, your teeth grinding together at the dull pain. the heat of the cigarette hovered over your palm as you struggled to pull back, and you couldn't help but choke out a strangled gasp.

"harin, wait-"

the smell of flesh burning invaded your senses as your arm shook from the pain. lightning seemed to replace your veins, as a fire replaced your blood. your vision fuzzed, the tears in your eyes falling down your chin.

harin glanced at you, a small smile replacing her grimace. you were always so pretty when you were in pain.

"remember this." she threw her smoke onto the ground, her grip on your wrist tightening. "you mess with my game, you upset me. you don't want that to happen again, do you?"

the last thing you wanted was to see harin frown in your direction.

"no."

harin smiled, glancing at how your lips quivered and how your eyes held an intoxicating mixture of fear and want. quietly, she wiped a tear with her free hand, chuckling as you flinched at her touch.

"then stay away from seong suji." she leaned in, her voice soft except for the threatening undertone. "if i see you even look at her without my permission, i'll make your life hell."

her grip loosened, harin's eyes softening as she looked at you with what seemed to be worry and understanding.

"i..." you blinked, agreeing like an obedient dog. even now, you couldn't help but wonder which harin was the real harin, but all you knew was that you didn't want to disappoint her. "i understand."

harin sighed, glancing at the burn in your hand with contempt. "i don't like doing this to you."

you paused, your face brightening as the smell of tobacco stuck to your blazer.

"you don't?"

harin smiled. it was like catching a mouse in a well placed trap. you were predictable and easy to please. a couple right words and you'd be under her spell all over again.

"you think i do?" the heiress frowned, biting her tongue.

she loved it.

"no..."

with a giggle, she took your wrist, much more gently than before.

"let's get you patched up."

harin liked putting on lipgloss around you.

she liked the way your eyes darted to her mouth for a split second before they looked anywhere else in the room. the redness of your cheeks delighted her in the sense that she knew that no matter what, you'd be stuck under her thumb.

you were her stupid, little puppet. your strings strong and unwavering, and your heart tainted with a loved one that you thought she didn't see.

it was adorable, like a puppy chasing its own tail, or a whale, no longer strong enough to go up for air.

harin liked to send you on mindless errands.

it was a good way to keep you in check, much better than instilling fear. she could sense that someone like you liked to feel needed, even if it's something as simple as fetching her more of her favorite brand of smokes or picking up items that she used for bribery.

it gave her a good laugh when you would come back, beaming as if you accomplished something when in reality, one of her maids could have easily done the same.

you were none the wiser, currently on your way to getting her more coffee (well, to get doah coffee per harin's demand).

you were just about to leave the campus, but a strong yet gentle hand yanked you aside, dragging you out of sight from the windows of the complex.

"sorry, y/n-ah."

you tried to shake her off, but she was too strong.

"jaeun, let go." why was she doing this? more importantly, why was she taking you to the nearby convenience store. "i can't be talking to you. you know that."

jaeun stopped, and you thought that she had finally gotten tired of you complaining so much. instead, you looked at the scene in front of you, two girls sitting in the shade of a foldable umbrella.

harin was gonna burn you alive.

"harin's pet?" jaehyeong shook her head, staring at the taller girl beside you. "jaeun-ie, are you sick? do you have a fever?"

you frowned. you weren't 'harin's pet'. so what if you liked being around her?

"she's nice." jaeun muttered, ushering you to the other girls. you tried to turn away, but she moved you in such a way that you couldn't escape. "she helped suji out."

"that was a mistake."

suji raised an eyebrow. she didn't know what was wrong with you. how could someone change so much in a matter of two months?

her eyes wandered your figure, stopping at the burns that littered your right hand.

oh. that makes sense.

"hey, y/n-ah."

"yerim?" you turned around, your jaw hanging open as the trainee sat with the girls, sipping on a can of coffee. you glanced at her phone, watching as she scrolled through eunjeong's instagram. "what the hell is going on?"

you looked around, their eyes glancing at suji with hesitation.

"you're not gonna convince her, suji." yerim shook her head.

being in rank 'a' herself, she knew firsthand how you followed every word harin said. she could tell from a mile away what it was, yerim herself victim to the feeling with a certain swimmer.

but there was a difference between the two of you, one that could prove to be detrimental.

you needed someone to follow, while she didn't.

"i can." suji glanced at your hand again. "i know i can."

"convince me?"

you felt a lump in your throat, praying that somehow, in some way, harin would come barging in and save you from whatever was going on here.

you took a deep breath, and sensing danger was near, gripped your wrist for safety.

jaeun frowned.

"i was serious about bringing down the game, y/n."

the pyramid game.

that stupid game that harin focused all her energy into, hellbent on keeping the perfect hierarchy intact. the one where you watched your classmates get beaten to a pulp, bloody and broken to the point of mental disarray.

you had never spoken it out loud, but you were tired of it, watching everyone you know either do the hurting or get hurt (most times both).

but this was harin's game, and you'd rather hurt yourself than upset the girl you loved.

"harin'll be pissed."

yerim chuckled, a knowing smile on her face. she didn't expect anything less from you.

"aren't you?" suji glanced at your hand, one you held for dear life, as if you were afraid it would get burned again. "after everything you've done for her, she still burns you."

you frowned.

harin did it with good reason. she needed to keep you in line, to keep you from lashing out. she did this to you because, unlike wooyi or dayeon, she trusted you enough to understand.

harin did it out of the pureness of her heart.

"that was an accident."

"an accident?" suji could feel your doubt starting to seep through. that was enough for her, to see the light beyond the cracks of your love. "hurting you multiple times the same way was an accident?"

was it an accident? it had to be, otherwise, harin was just hurting you to hurt you.

you shook the thought out of your head, missing the way the girls looked at each other, satisfied.

"what do you want, seong suji?"

there was a beat in the air.

"join us."

she knew. how did she know?

"no, i just..."

you liked harin, even when she suffocated you with her smoke, staining your white shirt with the ash of her cigarettes. her eyes wandered yours routinely, and it felt as if she was trying to dig deep as if she needed you.

"i figured out a way to get to them."

harin's eyes sparkled. she would have never thought that you, docile and timid, would ever think of something other than her and school.

it was... exhilarating.

"sim eunjeong." you rattled out a breath, your eyes clenching at the very thought of what you were doing. "yerim... likes her more than we think."

the heiress laughed, the excitement in her chest bursting at the thought of you ignoring your morals just to please her and only her.

she leaned close to you, her face in front of yours as she moved a single lock of hair behind your ear. shivers ran up your spine.

"do you feel bad, y/n-ah?" harin hadn't felt this happy in a while. "ratting them out to me must be so heavy on your consciousness."

she looked you up and down, your eyes avoiding hers. your cheeks were tinged in red, and the guilt written all over your face didn't help the giddiness that was starting to overtake her.

"you're fun, y/n."

you'd do anything for her, even when she hurt you. even when everyone screamed and yelled at you to leave, ignoring the bright red stop signs.

"i like you."

> main masterlist.

[novaursa]

Web of Gold (rook's rest)

- Summary: Alicent could only watch as you handle her son like a lioness who plays with her food.

- Paring: lannister!reader/Aegon II Targaryen (+Aemond Targaryen?)

- Note: This chapter is more serious than the rest and the humor is toned down. Also, the part after this will be the last one.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: addendum

- Next part: the final choice

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @purple-1995 @thisbiann @whiteoakoak @deemee33

The sky above Rook’s Rest was dark, choked with clouds that promised a storm—though none could compare to the storm that Aemond Targaryen intended to bring. Below, the fortress stood like a sentinel against the gathering shadows, its high walls defiant, its towers tall. But even the proudest fortress could not stand against what was coming. Not when he had Vhagar.

Aemond sat upon his great dragon, high above the world, the cold air biting against his face. Vhagar’s wings beat with the steady rhythm of a creature born of fire and shadow, the winds of her passing causing the trees below to sway as if in worship. And yet, despite the power he commanded, his thoughts were not on the battle ahead but on something—or rather, someone—else entirely.

Y/N.

The image of you lingered in his mind like a specter, haunting him at every turn. You, Aegon’s wife. You, the woman who seemed to occupy every corner of his thoughts, no matter how hard he tried to push you aside. The way you looked at him during the celebrations, the subtle hints of something unspoken between you, it had all twisted itself into a knot of frustration and desire that Aemond could no longer untangle.

And then there was Aegon, the fool, parading around as if he were the true ruler of the realm, with you always at his side. Aegon, who did not deserve you. Aegon, who had spent his life squandering every gift handed to him.

Aemond’s jaw clenched at the thought, the anger rising unbidden in his chest. He hadn’t wanted this battle—not in this way—but as the events unfolded, a dark decision had taken root. One that, for all his usual restraint, he was now prepared to carry out.

Below him, the armies of Rhaenyra’s supporters were gathered at Rook’s Rest, waiting for the onslaught to begin. But that wasn’t what concerned him now. No, there was a different dragon circling below—Sunfyre. And upon that golden beast sat Aegon.

Aemond’s eye narrowed as he watched his brother in the distance, circling Rook’s Rest like a hawk waiting to dive for the kill. Aegon, oblivious as ever, prepared to claim the glory of this battle. The fool didn’t even realize what was coming.

Aemond pulled Vhagar into a dive, her massive wings cutting through the air with a thunderous roar. The wind howled in his ears as they descended, his heart pounding, the world below coming into sharp focus. He could see Sunfyre now, the golden dragon’s scales gleaming in the dim light, Aegon’s form barely visible on his back. Aegon, so intent on the battle ahead, had not noticed Aemond’s approach.

It should have been me, Aemond thought, the bitterness curling in his chest like smoke. It should have been him by your side, not Aegon. And now, for once, Aemond would make sure it was.

With a grim resolve, Aemond urged Vhagar closer. The great dragon let out a deep, rumbling growl, sensing her rider’s intentions. The clouds above darkened further, and then, without warning, Aemond made his move.

“Dracarys.”

The word left his lips like a death sentence, and in the next instant, the world erupted in fire. Vhagar’s breath shot forward in a torrent of flame, blazing a path through the sky. The firestorm engulfed Sunfyre before Aegon even had time to react. The golden dragon screeched in agony, its wings beating wildly as it tried to escape the inferno that now consumed it.

Aegon’s scream followed soon after, a high-pitched wail that echoed through the skies as the flames licked at his armor, his cloak catching fire as Sunfyre spiraled downward, desperately trying to stay aloft.

Aemond watched, his heart pounding in his chest, but his face remained impassive. There was no triumph in this, no joy. Only a cold, calculated decision that had been brewing for far too long. Aegon, in his arrogance, had finally paid the price. And though Aemond had never intended to become a kinslayer again, the moment felt inevitable. Aegon had stood in his way for too long.

For her, he thought, his eye flicking upward for a moment, as if you were watching from some unseen perch. It was a foolish sentiment, but Aemond did not care. He had done what he had to.

The screams of Sunfyre and Aegon faded as the dragon plummeted toward the ground, fire still trailing in its wake. Aemond spared them no further thought. The deed was done.

But the battle was not over.

From the east, the unmistakable roar of another dragon filled the air, and Aemond’s eye snapped toward the sound. There, soaring through the clouds like a fury of vengeance, came Meleys, the Red Queen, her scarlet scales gleaming in the dim light. And on her back was Rhaenys Targaryen, the Queen Who Never Was.

Aemond’s lips curled into a tight smile. He had known this moment was coming. Rhaenys had been a threat for far too long, and now, with Aegon burning below, Aemond would end this rebellion once and for all.

“Vhagar,” Aemond growled, tightening his grip on the reins. “Let’s finish this.”

Vhagar roared in response, her massive wings beating the air as she surged forward to meet Meleys. The two dragons collided in a clash of flame and fury, their roars shaking the very heavens. Fire spewed from both sides, filling the sky with an inferno that turned night to day.

Rhaenys and Meleys fought with a ferocity that Aemond had rarely seen, the Red Queen snapping and clawing at Vhagar with wild abandon. But Vhagar was larger, older, and far more experienced in the ways of war. Aemond’s bond with her was strong, and together, they fought like a single, deadly force.

Rhaenys may have been called the Queen Who Never Was, but today, she would not be a queen. She would be a memory.

With a final, decisive strike, Vhagar clamped her massive jaws around Meleys’ neck, crushing bone and flesh with a sickening crunch. The Red Queen let out a final, anguished roar before her wings gave out, and she tumbled toward the earth, Rhaenys still on her back.

Aemond watched, his heart steady, as Meleys and Rhaenys fell from the sky, their bodies vanishing into the clouds below. The battle was over.

Victory was his.

And yet, as he hovered above the battlefield, watching the smoke rise from the charred remains of Sunfyre and the smoldering ruin of Rhaenys’ dragon, Aemond felt no satisfaction.

He had done what needed to be done. He had claimed the victory. But as he turned Vhagar toward the distant horizon, his thoughts returned once more to you, as they always did. The victory felt hollow, like an empty crown resting too heavily on his head.

For all the power and glory he had won today, it wasn’t enough.

You weren’t his.

And that, more than anything, gnawed at him like a wound that would never heal.

The Red Keep was quieter than usual as Aemond made his way toward Aegon’s chambers. The air was filled with the heavy silence that always seemed to settle after a tragedy, the kind that lingered long after the fires had been extinguished. And though Aegon was alive, a part of him—the Aegon that Aemond had known—seemed to have been consumed in those flames at Rook’s Rest.

Aemond paused outside the door to Aegon’s chambers, taking a breath. He had avoided this moment long enough. A month had passed since that fateful battle, and though the rest of the realm had resumed its usual rhythm, this corner of the Red Keep remained in shadow.

He pushed open the door to find Aegon lying in his bed, the once-boisterous king now reduced to a broken, burned shell of the man he used to be. Bandages covered much of his body, and his usually proud silver hair had been singed unevenly. His skin was marred with scars, red and angry from the burns that had nearly claimed his life. Aegon’s eyes, once filled with mischief and arrogance, now stared vacantly at the ceiling.

The scent of burnt flesh still faintly clung to the air, mixed with the overwhelming odor of healing balms and herbs. Maesters and healers had done their best, but Aegon was far from the golden prince he had once been.

Aemond closed the door behind him, stepping into the room. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but the sight of Aegon like this struck a chord he hadn’t anticipated. For all his faults, Aegon had been… well, Aegon—larger than life, impossible to ignore. And now, here he lay, barely more than a shadow.

Aegon’s head turned slowly toward Aemond, his once-bright eyes dull and heavy-lidded. His voice, when it came, was weak and rasping, as though every word cost him what little strength he had left.

“Aemond…” He croaked, a dry cough following the sound. “Where… where have you been?”

Aemond stepped closer, standing at the foot of the bed. He regarded his brother carefully, unsure how to navigate this conversation. Not knowing how much Aegon remembers. “I’ve been tending to the realm,” he said, his voice calm, though there was a flicker of something darker behind his eye. “The battle left much to be dealt with.”

Aegon’s lips twitched, a ghost of his old grin. “Ah, yes… the realm… always the realm.” He paused, blinking sluggishly. “But… where is Y/N? My wife… Where is she?”

Aemond felt the familiar knot of tension tighten in his chest at the mention of your name. He had known this question was coming. Of course Aegon would ask for you, even now, when everything else had fallen apart. Even after everything Aemond had done.

He tried to keep his face neutral, though there was an undeniable edge to his tone as he answered. “She’s… been keeping herself busy. Distracted.” He met Aegon’s gaze, careful not to betray too much. “You’ve been asleep for a long time, brother. Life doesn’t stop.”

Aegon’s brow furrowed, his gaze searching Aemond’s face with a flicker of concern—though it was hard to tell how much was due to his weakened state. “She hasn’t come to see me?”

Aemond hesitated for a beat, his jaw tightening slightly. “No,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Not yet.”

Aegon’s lips parted, his expression a mixture of confusion and hurt. He shifted in the bed, wincing as the movement sent a wave of pain through his burned skin. “She… hasn’t come?” His voice cracked slightly, a tone Aemond had never heard from him before. “Why… why wouldn’t she come?”

Aemond felt the weight of the question settle between them like a stone. He glanced at the floor for a moment, unsure of how to answer in a way that wouldn’t betray his own guilt—or worse, his own conflicted feelings. How could he explain that he had been the one to set these events in motion, that his actions had ultimately separated you from Aegon in the most irrevocable way? How could he tell his brother that the woman Aegon had cherished was slipping further from his grasp with every passing day?

So instead, Aemond settled on the only answer he could offer without unraveling everything. “She’s… grieving, Aegon. It’s been difficult for her. She’s unsure of how to… face this.”

Aegon let out a weak, humorless chuckle that quickly turned into a cough. “Grieving… for me?” He shook his head slightly, the motion slow and painful. “She… always said I’d be fine… no matter what foolishness I got myself into.” There was a distant look in his eyes, as if he was recalling your teasing words from before the battle, when everything had seemed so much simpler.

“She’s probably just waiting,” Aegon muttered, his voice trailing off. “She’ll come. She’ll… come around.”

Aemond stood in silence for a moment, watching as Aegon’s eyes flickered, his exhaustion taking hold once more. His brother was broken, physically and perhaps even mentally. But the one thing that had not broken was his faith in you—a faith that Aemond couldn’t help but feel was misplaced. Because even now, as Aegon lay burned and shattered, you were slipping further and further into Aemond’s own thoughts. Into his possession.

“I’m sure she will,” Aemond said softly, though the words felt like ash on his tongue. “In time.”

Aegon, too weary to argue, simply nodded weakly, his eyes drifting shut once more. The room was heavy with the weight of what had been left unsaid, the silence filled with unspoken truths.

Aemond turned to leave, his heart a storm of conflicting emotions. But as he reached the door, Aegon’s voice—hoarse and barely a whisper—called out one final time.

“Aemond… take care of her, won’t you?”

Aemond paused, his hand resting on the doorframe, his expression hardening for just a moment before he answered.

“I always do.”

The corridors of the Red Keep felt colder than usual as you walked through them. You had spent the last month avoiding this very moment, but now it was time—time to see Aegon. The guilt had gnawed at you, the weight of his absence hanging over you like a shadow. Aegon was alive, but you hadn’t visited him once since he had returned, broken and burned, from Rook’s Rest.

The court whispered about it, of course. About how the queen had yet to sit at her king’s bedside, how the once-lively Aegon had been abandoned in his darkest hour. You told yourself it was because you didn’t want to face the truth of what had happened—that seeing him like that would make everything real. But deep down, you knew there was more to it.

Aemond.

His presence had loomed over you since the battle. He had been your shadow, watching, waiting, his gaze lingering on you with something between hunger and possessiveness. You had felt the shift in him, the way his usual cold composure had cracked, revealing the depth of his feelings. And you knew, without him saying it, that he was the reason Aegon had been burned.

You had avoided confronting him for weeks, but as you made your way to Aegon’s chambers now, you knew there was no avoiding it any longer.

And there he was, waiting for you at the end of the hall, his tall figure standing in the shadows like a sentinel. His single eye locked onto yours the moment you approached, his jaw set in that familiar line of determination.

“Where are you going?” Aemond’s voice was low, but it carried the weight of a command. He stepped into your path, blocking the door to Aegon’s chambers, his expression unreadable, though there was a dangerous glint in his eye.

You stopped, your heart pounding, though you kept your face calm. “I’m going to see Aegon,” you said simply.

Aemond’s eye narrowed slightly, his lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “After all this time? Now you decide to visit him?” His tone was laced with something darker, something possessive. “You’ve been avoiding him for weeks, and now you think you can waltz in there as though nothing has changed?”

Your chest tightened at his words, but you forced yourself to stay steady. “Aemond, I know what you’re trying to do. But Aegon is my husband. He’s my responsibility.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, his eye darkening. “Your responsibility? I did this for you,” he said, his voice low and intense. He stepped closer, his presence looming over you like a storm. “Everything I’ve done—burning Aegon, taking control of the realm—I did it for you. To free you from him. Don’t you see that?”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but it wasn’t out of fear. It was out of something far more complicated—something that had been simmering between you and Aemond for far too long. His intensity, his obsession, had drawn you in more than you wanted to admit. But this… this was too much.

“Aemond,” you said, your voice softer now, though your resolve was firm. “You may believe you did this for me, but I never asked for any of it. I didn’t want Aegon to get hurt. I didn’t want this.” You gestured between the two of you, the unspoken tension hanging heavily in the air.

Aemond’s eye flickered with something—anger, frustration, maybe even hurt. He stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “I’ve given you everything. I’ve made sure Aegon could no longer stand in your way, and yet, you’re still running to him?”

You met his gaze, unflinching. “I’m not running to him. I’m fulfilling my duty as his wife.” Your voice softened, but there was a firm edge to it. “I care about you, Aemond. But I won’t let you destroy him for your own reasons.”

For a moment, Aemond stood there, staring at you, his jaw clenched tightly. You could see the conflict warring inside him, the tension between what he wanted and what he knew he couldn’t have. His fingers flexed at his side as though he were restraining himself from reaching for you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he stepped aside, his expression cold once more. “Go then,” he said, his voice flat. “But remember this—Aegon is no longer the man you once knew. He is broken. And you cannot save him.”

You swallowed hard, his words cutting deep, but you nodded and walked past him, your heart heavy. You could feel his gaze burning into your back as you opened the door to Aegon’s chambers, but you didn’t look back.

Inside, the room was dimly lit by the flickering light of a single candle. Aegon lay in the bed, barely moving, his burned skin still wrapped in bandages. The once-proud king looked small, fragile, a shadow of the man you had married. His eyes, dull and distant, flicked toward you as you entered.

“Y/N…” His voice was weak, barely more than a rasp, but there was something in it—relief, maybe. “You came…”

You moved toward him slowly, your heart aching at the sight of him. “Of course I did,” you said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

Aegon’s lips twitched into a faint, tired smile. “I thought… you’d given up on me.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, taking his hand in yours. “I could never give up on you, Aegon.”

He closed his eyes, his hand weakly gripping yours, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you sat in silence—together.

But even as you sat by his side, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Aemond’s words lingering in your mind, like a shadow that refused to leave.

[whileyoureinschoolidothisallday]

Fixing MHA's Ending So It Follows Through With Its Core Themes (And It Basically Fixes Itself)

I don't like retconning at the best of times, but turning what started as essentially a Hope focused narrative into a "realistic" tragedy at the very last second is some wild work.

So I'm gonna do what I do best as a fic writer and fix it!!!!!

The Summary

So, I'm pretty sure all of us were on mostly the same page up until the very last panels of the Shigaraki fight (Having AFO being just "born evil" was probably the start of things not being great, but I'm willing to let that slide because it doesn't really effect the overall function of the story that much). Once that and the epilogue started is where I mostly saw people being like ????????? to a lot of choices, so I'm going to focus on those two sections only.

We're gonna be rewriting:

-The deaths of the Villains + Kurogiri (obvs)

-The overall post-War actions and reactions

-The continued existence of the Commission and the Hero Rankings

-Hawk's fate

-Spinner's fate

-A liiiiitle tweak to Chisaki's fate

-Slight tweaks to the Todorokis

-and finally What to DO with the Villains + Kurogiri now that they're alive

And we'll be starting with...

Toga

Now for a battle that was so beautiful, this really did end up completely falling apart.

I'm not gonna justify every single Villain Rescue I do, but Toga's really comes down to one simple reason for me:

Her bullies literally wanted her to die as atonement.

You don't...typically make your character's fate agree with their bullies or abusers (otherwise???? why are you explicitly portraying them as bullies and abusers to the audience if you want us to ultimately agree with them?????)

Throughout most of the story prior to this, Hori made it a staple in the show that dying for the cause, hurting yourself for the cause, martyring yourself or otherwise telling someone to kill themselves for the cause is a vile thing to do. So, it makes ZERO sense why he would suddenly retcon this at such a critical moment, especially since he already set the stage for it to be wrong in the first place.

(also does anyone also think it was weird/creepy that Hori LITERALLY has her do this with Twice and she very explicitly says "Don't be stupid I don't have to give all of my blood away"? No? Just me?)

Everything happens the same, she still thinks she's sacrificing herself, "If only, if only", blah blah blah

AND THEN...

Hawks

This is such low-hanging fruit plot-wise it actually feels offensive that it went nowhere

Nothing happens with Hawks. We all say it, fans and non-fans alike. He is wasted potential incarnate. His story is a circle and it so easily did not have to be that way because of one simple writing decision:

Hawks and Toga share a blood type.

Up until now, it really did seem like Hawks learned nothing from Jin's death. The first thing he says when he sees the clones is, "We have to kill them now!" But then, picture him still battered and broken from his fight with AFO, wingless, but there is still SOMETHING he can do to save someone's life.

And he puts the needle in his arm instead, and before she can question it, he tells her Jin would want her to live. He's not gonna make the same mistake twice.

(I also think it'd be nice if he said something like how lucky she is, to really go full circle with the Jin story, but I'm not trying dialogue here lol)

And that leads us to...

Shigaraki (and Kurogiri!)

This is a double feature because with the way I'm doing it, I can't save one without the other.

So, something that happens during this and is super anti-climactic and seemingly pointless is Midoriya losing his hands. He gets em back in like 2 seconds, because Eri gives him a surprise rewind almost immediately after. The actual point of it was just to show the brand new rule that physical damage that happens in the vestige world also happens in the real world, so that killing Shigaraki a few chapters later would still make sense.

We're gonna get rid of that rule entirely and just say that Midoriya does not lose his actual arms in the fight, and psychological damage in a ghost world does not reflect physically in reality (or idk. If you DO want that to happen, then just say the embers of the vestiges protected him one last time or something).

And because he doesn't lose his arms, Eri still has a surprise rewind to use.

But before we get to that, we actually have to save Shigaraki. So, here's the super complicated rescue rewrite I came up with. Ready?

Kicking AFO out of his brain and giving him back full control over his body simply does not kill him.

That's it!!!! That's really all that needed to happen!! It was a very conscious choice to make that kill him! It's actually more work and details to kill Shigaraki than it is to save him!! Hori already went out of his way to say that Nana's vestige protected him so that he wasn't completely swallowed by AFO, just so he could say goodbye before fading away anyway. What if, considering the fact that hatred of Nana is what damned him, love FROM Nana actually just plain ol saves him? Full stop? We come full circle. It would make it a fantastic mirror to the Todoroki fight and solidify the theme that love from your/a family, even a broken one, will save you!!

And then further in the background, Bakugou doesn't randomly kill (?????? Even after reading it again I'm still really confused about how Kurogiri dies. I think this is what happens?????) Kurogiri, and instead starts to lose control like they feared. But then, refusing to give up on him, Aizawa hits him with the now-available Rewind Juice and it finally, finally stabilizes his mind for good.

The day is saved.

And that just leaves...

Touya

Unfortunately my stupid husband can't stop trying to kill himself for 2 seconds despite my best efforts to convince him otherwise, so there's really nothing I can do about the extent of his injuries

However, there's LOTS I can do about the way we're treating said injuries! =D

First of all, because Touya is my favorite, I do wanna allow myself the space to briefly rant about how his entire situation was handled because brother. first of all. It's so incredibly obvious that he was supposed to die on the battlefield with his comrades. That man had no fuckin eyeballs by the end of that fight, bffr. And then it was like Hori remembered the thing about the noodles and was like 'oh shit I better at least wrap that up lol' so he brought him back--eyeballs and TEARDUCTS magically intact btw so naturally the audience with reading comprehension was like 'oh he's healing somehow I guess'--just to get that specific moment on the books (and maybe just to draw Touya in his Batman Who Laughs era because I mean he does look pretty sick in the tank) and then turned around and killed him again. With no explanation what the random functioning tearducts and magical regrowth of eyeballs was about.

Like...my guy, you ain't gotta do all that. Again, it's so much harder and more complicated to kill him than it is to keep him alive. Not to mention he was killed OFF-SCREEN. WE DON'T EVEN GET TO SEE ANY--IF ANY--CONVERSATIONS HE HAS WITH SHOUTO OR HIS FAMILY, WHICH WAS THE WHOLE POINT OF NOT KILLING HIM ON THE BATTLEFIELD. INSTEAD OF THE SEXY SHIRTLESS SERVING-FACE-AT-A-FUNERAL IMAGE OF TOUYA WE COULD'VE SEEN A FLASHBACK OF THEM TALKING AND HIM SMILING AND BEING HAPPY WITH THEM FOR WHATEVER TIME THEY HAD AND THAT STILL WOULD'VE BEEN MORE SATISFYING. Y'KNOW. BECAUSE THAT WAS THE WHOLE FUCKING POINT OF THE TODOROKI PLOTLINE?????????????VSSSBBNM,.;;PUSAAXXGHIIRWDFGG

But anyway.

Fixing Touya's death is really simple. We can do two things, actually.

Work with the deus-ex Ice Quirk a little bit, make the Phoenix Theory canon. Ice heals him, the tank is a giant fridge. Lo and behold, it would explain why he magically healed eyeballs and tearducts. It's an incredibly slow process, but eventually he'd heal enough to be out of the tank and in a normal hospital setting for the rest of his recovery. It also gives him a goal to pursue for the future, I.E learning how to control the new side of his powers and mayybeeee getting interested in studying Quirk Biology in the process 👀

He simply!!!!!! Doesn't die!!!!!!!!! Out of ALLLLLLL the MHA characters, I would 100% believe you if you told me that Touya Todoroki nevertheless persisted. That's like...his entire character. You don't even need to give me a reason. His entire character up until now has been 'the one that's somehow still alive' to the point that the fucking Dr. Eggman lookin ass mad scientist that brought him back to life in the first place (in WORSE condition) was like 'yeah no idea how he's still here that's scary'. I'm sorry, the entire fucking show I've had to see A. An old man without a face with a back alley ventilator system shoved directly into his stoma that's somehow fine and talking perfectly, and B. Another old man missing his ENTIRE digestive tract for years and is still up and walking around somehow with no G-tube or colostomy bag to be seen, so I think by the power of God and Anime, Touya could probably survive his injuries and it would be within the realm of believability for the show. In fact, it's LESS believable that he stayed alive through all that by spite alone and then when he finally gets offered love and acceptance, that determination and tenacity to stay alive suddenly goes out the window. If anything, it should've made him MORE determined to live.

Sorry I got carried away with that one. But there. Everyone is saved and the core themes are intact.

Now we just have...

The Overall Actions and Reactions Post-War

Gonna sum this up really quickly:

-The cameras never turned off. They're built for Quirk resistance because they're a fucking newscast in a Hero society if their technology broke every time there were heavy Quirk exchanges there would never be any fucking news. Making them conveniently lose footage so none of the civs can see the Villains humanity is just rubbing salt in the wound and serves no narrative purpose in line with pre-established themes. Everyone saw what was recorded, and it helped the Villains' cases for rehabilitation.

-We do not censor out this battle in future history books. Everyone is very familiar with the final fight and the events and circumstances leading up to it. It is not erased from public memory as soon as possible. In fact, it's frequently studied and referenced when making new policies to avoid making the same mistakes. Hori. Wtf.

-We do not reinstate the Hero Rankings in any way shape or form, and Shouto is the biggest voice in dismantling this system. Voila, this is now actually the story of how they all became the greatest Heroes, because they aren't ranked. They're all literally the greatest Heroes, and so will everyone after them.

-This IS actually portrayed in the epilogue, but yes, let's be LESS reliant on Heroes and police and MORE invested in the community!!!!!!! Even more so than what's portrayed!!!!! Take another bit from Spider-Man: Anyone can wear the mask!!!!!! Let's make a world where Heroes have too much time on their hands and not just make more of them, right????????? Remember that????????

-WE DO NOT REINSTATE THE COMMISSION. WE GOT RID OF THEM CORRUPT HOES FOR A REASON!!!!!! NO A CHANGE OF THE GUARD IS NOT ENOUGH TO FIX IT WE'RE NOT 7YRS OLD!!!!! HORI. WTF. The only thing I want them to be in charge of is licensing Heroes. I want these fuckers to be the DMV of the Hero world and that's IT!!!!!!!

Which brings us to...

Hawks' Fate

I don't even fuck with this man like that, but he did not deserve to become CEO of the organization that groomed and abused him since he was a child when all he wanted to do was chase tail and fuck off to a beach somewhere. Considering the fact that he also, like, killed people he shouldn't have, let him retire like Endeavor, please. We're done giving the old guard power and privilege, especially when they explicitly did not and do not want it (and when they did have it, they misused it). The only thing I want this man involved with is Toga's recovery alongside Uraraka. Specifically, I want him paying for it and anything else she might need. Fuck it, you know what, make HIM Endeavor's personal aide instead of Rei!!!! He gets to be a little simp and Endeavor gets a replacement son to fill Natsu's spot. Everyone wins.

(He does deserve that hairline tho. I ain't fixin that.)

So that leaves...

Spinner's Fate

I'm not changing much here, besides the fact that now Shiggy is alive and I think they should be ✨Roommates✨ eventually (and obviously he's gonna be much less riddled with survivor's guilt). I still think he should write that book, but I also think that with his multiple Quirks, he should team up with scientists to understand how Quirks work in the body (and maybe get some of them removed from his).

And next...

Chisaki's Fate

I just think this guy needs to be in the same place as the other Villains, at least for a fraction of the time. Why is he just...out. He was also in that daycare and could definitely use some help before we just let him loose in the streets because he said sorry (Can the League just say sorry then??????????).

I do think afterwards he should get involved with something chemistry related tho, cause those bullets of his came in clutch.

And on that note...

The Todorokis' Fates

And by Todorokis I mean two of them, specifically Rei lol

Yeah, she's not gonna be Endeavor's nurse for the rest of her life lol. That man has more money than God, he can hire an aide like everybody else. In fact, they're not even living together. Do you remember how earlier in the series, he gave them a new house? So they could live away from him and he would be in the old house by himself? I liked that plan. Let's go back to that plan. I'm not gonna go as far as to make them divorce, if they're together they're together, but I think separation is a necessary must at this point because if they MUST stay together, they should at least try dating for once???????? Girl was actually bought like maybe they figure out if they even still like each other at all, or ever did.

(Also, I have to laugh as a motorized wheelchair user that Hori drew her pushing Endeavor all happy and blissfully. Motorized wheelchairs are not meant to be pushed like that lol. They have push features for emergencies and small around-the-house distances of course, but uh, mine's 350 pounds without me in it. It's not usually anyone's first choice.)

But there is one more Todoroki I have a lot to talk about, so that finally brings us to...

What Do We Do With The Villains + Kurogiri Now That They're Alive???????????

We take everything from comic books except what would actually makes sense with the story lol

Surprise!!!!!! We're doing Arkham!!!!!! This is another low-hanging fruit thing that I'm almost a little offended that it wasn't implemented. Obviously Arkham has its problems in the Batman canon that we're gonna try to avoid, but I honestly think Batman villains and the core MHA Villains are pretty similar in their execution in that they are primarily mentally ill victims of society who have done very terrible things, but the audience (and Batman himself) is actively rooting for them to get better over just rotting in jail or being killed. Two-Faced has killed sooooo many people and has relapsed a ton, but I ultimately still want to see him get better because he was Batman's best friend once and a good man, and what happened to him was a tragedy. I think all the Villains deserve a space where they can humanely heal from their issues and gain support, while also being safely separated from society while they're still dangerous to themselves and others.

Oh, but Batman and his endless money bought Arkham. Who do we know who has access to trust fund money, an investment in the mentally ill, and the bonus of a medical background that could fund such a thing?

Ladies and Gentlemen, please put your hands together for...

Natsuo Todoroki!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My mans graduates from college and immediately uses his money as a doctor and his inheritance to open up Rindou Sanctuary, in honor of his mother Rei and named after her favorite flower (I don't think he'd want to give Enji the satisfaction of his last name attached to his greatest achievement). He's head doctor on site and the board, and visits Touya every shift once he's healed enough to be transferred to the facility. He is very invested in his brother's treatment and refuses to lose him again--at least not until they're proper old men.

It is publicly funded by donors and taxes alike, and Enji, naturally, is always the highest donor. Call it reparations.

And there you have it! That's how to fix the epilogue. It took longer to type than think about. I could care less about canon shipping, so y'all can keep that (or not). I'm just here to fix the structural problems that have no reason to be here at this point. As I said, once I redrew lines Hori already set up and just abandoned, it pretty much fixed itself.

Hope you enjoyed it and I hope it eases the grief a little!!!!! They're alive look I fixed it!!!!!! <3

(also feel free to use anything I said in here in your own fix-it fics!!!! Just tag me so I can read them 👀)

[mochegato]

Petty Warfare

Part One of the Pretty Petty Series

“Akuma I have no sense of decorum,” Ladybug grumbled as she surveyed the wreckage before her.  It was all quite impressive considering the akuma had only emerged a few minutes ago and had already wreaked more havoc than the last eight akuma combined, but it was easy to do that with a literal sea of lava appearing and disappearing every few seconds.

It was not the look they needed right before their meeting with the Batman to discuss investigative assistance from the Justice League while still keeping them at a distance and allowing the Miraculous team to stay in control.  It was a well-known fact in the hero community, and the general public really, that Batman and his team had a tendency to think they know better and taking over.

“Absolutely no respect for other people's schedules,” Chat nodded in agreement as he stepped up next to her with a twirl of his staff.

Rena hummed as she whirled her flute and got in line.  “It's one thing that's always bothered me about akuma, how rude they are.”

Carapace stepped beside her.  “Well then, let's teach them some manners.”  He looked down and around, for a brief second there was a glimmer of panic in his eyes, but it almost immediately disappeared in favor of a smirk.  He grabbed his shield from its back holster and spun it on one finger before securing it on his forearm.

Ladybug rolled her eyes and shook her head, much to the amusement of the rest of her team.  It was extremely common for her to do one or the other, but both at the same time?  They rarely got her to do that.  “And let's make it quick,” she advised firmly.  “We have a meeting to get to and I for one do not want to let down Wonder Woman.”  She made eye contact with the rest of her team but then rolled her eyes again at their hopeful expressions and twirled her yoyo.

Chat grinned brilliantly, almost bouncing from foot to foot watching the yoyo, but quickly cleared his throat and shook his body before easing into a model perfect pose.  “Or give Batman the idea that we need him to step in more than we want.”

Carapace sucked in a breath.  “Might want to get on that.”

“Oh my god, that's Red Hood!” Rena shrieked, barely able to keep her voice low enough not to echo across the rooftops.  “I need to get a picture of him in the fight for the paper.”  Her excited grin quickly twisted to a contemplative purse.  “I can’t believe they brought Red Hood near Hawk Moth.  That seems like a poor choice.”

“Red who?” Ladybug asked.

Rena pointed to a figure jumping from roof to roof.  “Red Hood,” she enunciated slowly.  “Affiliated with Batman… kind of… he has a bat on his chest so…”

Ladybug followed to where she was pointing, her face scrunching as she watched him.  “But he doesn't have a hood.”

Carapace shrugged.  “You don't have antenna but your called Ladybug.”

Ladybug scoffed and spluttered.  “No, but I have…” she motioned toward her bodysuit. “I'm not called Ladybug and then running around looking like a fox.”  She gestured harshly toward Rena.  “He should be called Red Mask or something.”  She suddenly narrowed her eyes and shot up straight.  “Is that a gun?” she shrieked, not bothering to keep her voice down.

“That’s kind of his thing,” Rena grimaced.

“Not here it isn’t,” Ladybug snapped.  Her yoyo was sailing toward him before Carapace could warn her that she might not want to start a fight with an ally while they were still fighting an akuma, but by that point, she was already gone and it was probably better for everyone involved if he just didn’t say anything.  Except for Red Hood, but he was a big boy.  He could handle himself… probably.

The yoyo hooked over a beam and wrapped around Red Hood’s wrists in the blink of an eye.  He was yanked forward by his wrists, forcing him to drop both his guns over the side of the building and barely keeping himself from following after, as she jumped off the building and swung toward him, using him as her counterweight.  Thankfully, he was heavy enough he barely moved as she swung.  She landed gracefully and silently, but stalked over to him, stomping the entire way until she was almost chest to chest with him.  “What the hell do you think you are doing?” she demanded.

He yanked his arms back and looked her up and down, the surprised look from seconds before replaced with a mask of indifference, eyes calculating and raised eyebrow unimpressed.  “It's called saving the day sweetheart.  Someone had to do it.”

“Oh shit,” Chat grumbled under his breath.  He searched around for the rest of Red Hood’s team.  Surely one of them could help deescalate the situation.  He could calm Marinette down, but not if Red Hood was actively taunting her.  But when he turned back to intervene, his eyes caught on Red Hood’s hands and he had to fight to stop from chuckling.

He was trying to be discreet.  He was trying to be sneaky.  He thought he could trick them.  He really had no idea who he was dealing with.  He could try as hard as he wanted, as long as he wanted, but he wasn’t going to get out of that line.  He was stuck there for as long as Marinette wanted him there.  Chat would know, from personal experience.  If Red Hood had done any research before coming to their territory, he would have known that.

“It's called inflicting major trauma,” she hissed, “which is a bad thing when dealing with a villain who preys on negative emotions.  I fear that's something most anyone could figure out.”

“Seems like getting attacked by an akuma might do exactly that.  So stopping the akuma would prevent it.  I fear that’s something even someone like you could figure out,” he growled back.

“Someone like me has figured out how to mitigate damage as much as possible from years of experience.  Someone like me has learned unnecessary violence will only make everything worse.”  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to recenter herself, when she reopened her eyes, they retained the same blazing frustration, but her voice was steady and calm, disturbingly so for anyone who knew her.  “You can’t shoot them.  That is not how we deal with akuma.”

“That’s how I deal with bad guys, kid,” he snarled back.  He took a step forward expecting her to step back, but she stood her ground meaning they were now physically touching chests and he had to lean back slightly to look down and meet her gaze.  “This here is the real world and in the real world, you have to get a little dirty,” he lectured, not bothering to keep his condescension from his voice.  “You can’t just sing a little song to make the bad guys turn good.  Maybe that’s why you haven’t been able to defeat your villain.”

“That is literally how we stopped one akuma, you pretentious, cretinous brute.  Violence doesn’t solve everything.”  She leaned forward, filling in the space he had created and poking her finger against his armored chest.  “In fact, responding with violence has made a lot of our situations worse.  And I’ll tell you one more thing someone like me knows, that even if they don’t look like one, it is wholly, unmitigatedly wrong to shoot a kid even if he doesn’t look like one at the moment.”

She walked away a few steps, missing the way his entire body tensed at her words.  When she turned back to him, she had a cocky smirk on her face, arms crossed, and hip cocked.  “We fight smarter, not harder.  I would say you should try it, but smarter doesn’t appear to be your strong suit.”

Red Hood stepped forward but before he could retort, another figure landed just next to him.  “Oh good, you met the local heroes,” Nightwing cheered, his voice clearly artificially bright.

“I really need you guys to stay out of our way,” Ladybug stated, her voice commanding, clearly intended for all of the bats, but her eyes not straying from Red Hood.

“Yep, he met them,” Red Robin grimaced.  He took a breath and turned to Ladybug and the rest of the team with a calm, confident expression.  “We don’t intend to get in your way.  We will assist if you need, but we are here for the meeting.  We can just treat this like research.”

Ladybug forced out a breath then another before turning to Red Robin and Nightwing.  Her demeanor completely changing from confrontational to commanding.  “Look, you guys clearly didn’t bother to do your research before coming, so here’s the crash course…”

“You seem like you’d be familiar with crashing,” Red Hood muttered loudly enough for everyone on the roof to hear.

Red Robin glared at him.  This could be a great collaboration, helping not only the Miraculous team but the Justice League as well.  He needed to make clear they were not supporting Red Hood in this.  “Didn’t you crash into a billboard a few weeks ago?”

“I was thrown into one.  There’s a difference,” Red Hood hissed, stepping up to Red Robin who danced just out of his reach along the edge of the roof.

“Focus, children,” Nightwing thundered.  He waited a few seconds, staring down Red Hood and Red Robin before turning to Ladybug and motioning for her to continue.

Instead, Chat stepped in.  “Okay real quick, Hawk Moth uses magic to take over people and make them do things they would likely never choose to do otherwise.  They are given magic powers and the powers vary by person.  The magic is anchored in an item.  Break that item, free the person.”

“Also important,” Ladybug cut in, “the people corrupted can be anyone.  They can be completely innocent people.  They could be children,” she added pointedly.  “And they remember everything.  They remember what they did and what was done to them.”  She met Red Hood’s eyes fiercely.  “Do not give our children, or any of our citizens, any more trauma than they already have.”

Red Robin waited impatiently, his eyes volleyed back and forth between them a few times before he couldn’t hold himself back any longer.  “Is the object always prominent?”

“No,” Rena answered when Ladybug still hadn’t broken her glare.  Plus, it was Red Robin!  She was getting to talk with Red Robin!  “Sometimes it's hidden.”

He quirked his head and let his gaze move past her toward the akuma that had now come out into the open.  “How do you know what it is.”

Ladybug finally tore her glare from Red Hood to redirect it toward the akuma.  “We figure it out,” she answered, almost absentmindedly, her focus now on the akuma as her eyes darted to every part of it.

“We deduce it based on the cause of the possession and context clues,” Chat added.

Ladybug turned back at the loud scoff clearly coming from Red Hood’s direction.  “For example,” she snapped, stepping up to him again, “in this case we know it started from a game of The Floor is Lava, the handle of the drawer he was holding onto broke, so…”  She paused and whipped around, eyes narrowed at the Akuma in the distance for just a moment before looking around, eyes tracing her yoyo, then the line to Red Hood, to Carapace to just past him to the edge of the building, then to Chat, and back to the akuma.   “Carapace," she stated.  Her words were heavily weighted like it there was an entire conversation in that one word.

And clearly there was, because Carapace instantly stood at attention and followed the path her eyes had followed seconds before, nodding in understanding.  “On it,” he reported as he stepped into position at the edge of the building.

“Rena, a bit of cover, if you will.”  Rena nodded and pulled her flute up to her lips, ready to play when the time was right.  “Get ready Chat.”  Her words carried the same weight, communicating everything with her tone and body language.

Chat followed her gaze and narrowed his eyes at an area of the akuma’s chest that was protruding strangely.  “Always m'lady,” he answered with a determined nod.

Nightwing stepped forward.  “Um, do you want to share for the rest of us?  We speak to each other with our eyes not our tone so we’re a bit lost.”

Ladybug ignored him and stepped up to Red Hood with a broad, artificial smile.  “Just want to say thank you so much for your service,” she purred.

Red Hood bobbed his head back and tried to take a step away, he was familiar with crazy, Harley had trained them all pretty well, and he would prefer to have some kind of point of reference to know if it was the fun crazy or someone’s going to die crazy.  Unfortunately for him, he was already standing on the edge of the roof and had no place to go.  “Wha...”

Before he could finish snapping at her, she kicked him hard in the chest.  He tried to flail his arms, but his wrists were still bound together.  Not only could he not flail, he couldn’t try to scramble at the side of the building to slow his descent.  Nightwing jumped after him, but before he could reach him, a green shield appeared beneath him, not slowing his descent, but clearly there to keep him from hitting the lava.

Red Robin watched them long enough to make sure they would be okay before turning back to watch the Miraculous team just in time to see Ladybug, and therefore Chat, who was riding on her shoulders, get launched by the input force from her yoyo line, like taut line snapping and recoiling when the counterweight disappeared.  Just as they reached the apex, there were a few flute notes played and Chat disappeared, but within seconds, ‘Cataclysm’ echoed over and between the buildings and Ladybug was moving smoothly and quickly over the rooftops toward the akuma.

Her yoyo line retracted with a speed that defied physics and was released again.  He was only able to track it due to the glowing light it emitted before she reeled it back in.  Rena whispered something he couldn’t understand before stepping up next to him with a huge grin and looking over the side.  “It’s over now, you can come back up.”

Carapace patted Red Robin on the shoulder.  “That was fun.  We should do that again.  I enjoyed working with you.”

Red Robin peeked over the side of the building to verify Nightwing was giving Red Hood a ride back up with the grappling hook before returning his attention to Carapace with a smirk.  “I agree.  Best collaboration we’ve had in a while.”

Rena turned her attention to Red Robin with an excited grin.  ‘Hey, so,” she continued speaking uninterrupted even as a swarm of ladybugs flew all around them removing the lava, repairing the buildings, returning Nightwing and Red Hood to the roof, and Red Hood’s guns to his holsters.  She motioned toward Nightwing without breaking eye contact with Red Robin.  “He mentioned you guys communicate through looks.  How do you do that when you all have the film over your eyes?”

“Experience,” a gruff voice answered from behind her.

Rena spun around and let out a squeal as Batman stepped out of the shadows to announce his presence.  “That was so cool!”

“That’s why he does it,” Nightwing joked.

“Who does what?” Chat asked as he landed next to Red Robin just seconds before Ladybug.

“Batman,” she acknowledged instantly, her eyes finding him before she’d landed.  Chat, however, screamed and jumped away in surprise, almost ending up in Red Robin’s arms.  She continued without missing a beat.  “It is nice to…”

Before she could continue, Red Hood barreled over to her, not stopping until he was towering over her, his massive body, seemingly even larger due to his armor, looming over her.  “You could have killed me!” he thundered in a dark, cold voice.

Instead of being intimidated as he was used to, she crossed her arms over her chest with an unimpressed scoff.  “I kicked you in the chest plate.”

“You didn’t know,” he accused.

“I felt it earlier.  I knew you would be fine,” she snarled back but then she straightened up and opened her eyes wide in a perfect imitation of the innocence she usually embodied.  “And you were so concerned with helping save the day I just knew you would want to help.”  She almost kept the façade up except for a slight quirk of her lip when Chat snickered.

"Oh, you're starting a war you aren't prepared for, little girl," he growled.

She raised an eyebrow and leaned back like she was contemplating him.  “I just defeated a lava monster.  I think I’ll be just fine with little old you.  And just because you’re bigger, it doesn’t mean you’re older, tougher, or smarter.  It just means you have more capacity for bullshit.”

“Being smaller doesn’t mean you have less bullshit; it just means it’s more concentrated,” he hissed back.

Ladybug opened her mouth to respond but Chat cut in.  “While I think there’s room for both to be true, this is not what is important right now.”

“Hood, we have more important things to discuss,” Batman barked.  “Ladybug, I believe we had some things to discuss.”

Ladybug turned to Batman with a forced smile.  “Sorry, I was distracted.”

“Don’t worry about it.  He can be very distracting,” Red Robin assured her.

“The incompetent ones usually are,” she snipped back without moving her eyes from Batman.

Red Hood took a menacing step forward, but Nightwing put his arm out in front of his chest and silently pushed him back.  “Let’s go somewhere a bit less exposed,” Batman suggested pointedly.

Ladybug nodded and motioned to a rooftop nearby.  “There’s a bit more room over there and Rena can provide cover and Carapace can provide a sound barrier.”

“Perfect,” Batman nodded and grappled after her.

Nightwing kept his hold on Red Hood until she had already landed on the rooftop, far out of his reach.  “You’re going to have to figure out how to work with her,” he warned Red Hood.  “If she’s as good as I think she is, we’re going to be working with her a lot.”

“She threw me off of a building!” Hood hissed at him.

“No,” Nightwing smirked, “she kicked you off a building.  And who hasn't?”

“Me.  I haven't,” Carapace popped up next to them.  “Can I?”

Hood turned to him slowly, pointedly.  Even through the mask, it was clear he was glaring.  “No.”

Carapace took a step back, hands held up.  “Ooookay,” he shrugged.  “Little disappointed, dude, not going to lie.  You guys good to get over on your own or need help?”

Nightwing covered his mouth with his hand to hide his snicker.  “No, we’re good.  Be right there.”

“Rightio.”  He saluted them and was gone.

“We won’t have to work with her if I take her out,” Hood observed, a bit too darkly to be joking.

“You can't kill her.  Wonder woman loves her.  Thinks of her like a little sister because of the whole her mom was Ladybug thing,” he pointed out with a smirk.  “You’re going to have to work with her.

“But I’m pretty positive she's evil,” he huffed.  He shot out his grappling hook to swing over to the meeting.

“Honestly, kinda surprised that doesn't make you like her more,” Nightwing chuckled.  He suddenly straightened up, face bright with excitement.  “Or!  Focus on taking her out… on a date!”  His laughter returned full force, echoing over the rooftops, at the glare he could feel Jason sending him from under his mask as he swung away.  “This is going to be fun,” he giggled to himself before grappling to join the others.

[sweetbans29]

Mascot - KM

Pairing: Kate Martin x Reader

Summary: Kate had is down bad for the school mascot (based on THIS request)

Warnings: complete fluff

Word Count: 2.3k

Sweetbans Masterlist

Your love for being the school mascot began in high school. It was junior year when you were asked to cover for one of your best friends - who was actually the school mascot at the time. At first, you were nervous but once you were in the suit, you were a natural. You became your high school's mascot senior year and went out for it when you started college.

It was almost like having an alter ego. Outside of the suit, no one would ever picture you as the school mascot. You kept to yourself and really focused on your academics. Most of your time was spent in the library or on your favorite lawn on campus doing schoolwork or reading. If you were ever on the lawn - some of the cheer girls would come up and study with you, but never enough to seem suspicious as to why they were hanging out with you.

When you were in the suit though - your confidence soared (I mean you were a Hawkeye). It was like you could do anything and interact with anyone and that is what you did. The whole school loved you - at least the masked version of you and that was more than enough.

What was nice about how the school did Herky the Hawk was that if you were chosen to be the school mascot you would be one of many. Even though it was all under one character, the person in the suit varied depending on the sport. When you went out for the position, they chose you for all home basketball games. Basketball was your first choice and volleyball would have been your second - you had no desire to be the football mascot.

It took your freshman year to really adjust to working and being a student. But now in your junior year, you had become a pro. Not one person, aside from your boss and the cheer squad, knew you were the mascot for the basketball games and you fully intended on keeping it that way. At least that was your goal until a certain dirty blonde-haired girl started interacting with you a little more.

It started with little asks every once in a while. Kate from the women's team would pull you aside right before games and have you hide somewhere in the tunnel exit to scare her teammate Jada. You had never spoken to her - not able to reveal any part of your identity but would never fight her excitement of scaring her teammate.

The first time she had asked you will always be your favorite.

You were already dressed up and ready for the night when Kate made her way to you. You were by a group of cheer girls when you felt someone grab your arm.

"Hi, I have a favor to ask," Kate says.

You cock your head to the side to signal your curiosity. Kate takes that as your interest and continues.

"I was hoping you could help me scare one of my teammates. She got me kind of good the other day and not that I am keen on revenge, I want revenge." She says with a smile.

You nod and point your finger down, asking if this is something she wants to do now.

"Ya, now would actually be perfect. She is getting ready to come out and do her shoot-around." Kate says and you move your hands as to gesture 'Show me the way'.

She leads you to a spot she had scoped out earlier in the day, it is the perfect little nook for you to hide in. She tells you to wait there and you do.

A few minutes pass and you hear Kate walking out with Jada. Once you see Kate pass you jump out and scare Jada - causing her to scream and freak out.

You and Kate are laughing uncontrollably as Jada comes back to her senses, hitting Kate telling her she is going to pay. She then turns to you and you put your hands up as if to show innocence and she just points a finger at you. You bring her into a hug and pat the top of her head - the best 'apology' you could think of.

Jada runs out to the court, leaving you and Kate in the tunnel.

"Well done, I think that did the trick," Kate says with a little laugh.

You nod.

"Oh! I am Kate by the way. I don't think I have ever introduced myself," she says with a shy smile.

You wish you could tell her your name but that's not an option. You settle for extending your hand to shake hers which she reciprocates. Before letting her hand go, you bring it up and act as if you are kissing it which causes her to blush.

Then with a wave, you head back out to the cheer squad.

Since then, you have become the basketball team's go-to for pranking each other. Kate had unintentionally started a war. Kate had roped you into scaring Jada several times after the initial scare. Other girls from the team also enrolled you to help them. You had helped Jada get Gabby a few times. Hannah had asked for your help getting Jada. Caitlin even came over once asking you to help her get Kate. It had become somewhat of a home game staple.

About halfway through the season, you roped one of your girls in to help you figure out how to ask Kate out. The only reason you had felt so bold to do so is because Kate made it a point to come up and see you before and after every game. Since you couldn't talk to her - the two of you came up with a pre-game handshake as your way of telling her good luck. Then she would always find you after telling you how great of a job you did pumping up the crowd.

One of the cheer girls had come up with the idea of getting Kate your number. It wasn't anything crazy but it opened the door to actually getting to talk to her. You weren't ready to fully come out and expose yourself yet but you loved the idea of getting to text the girl.

It was right after a home win that one of the cheer girls went up to Kate and started talking to her. You tried to busy yourself with taking photos with students and high-fiving the players but you couldn't help but keep an eye on the interaction. You watched how your friend talked to Kate and passed her the little piece of paper that contained your number. The smile on Kate's face was contagious and you could have sworn you saw her cheeks grow a pink tint. Kate looked over at you and you gave an awkward wave. She waved back and thanked the cheerleader.

She texted you that night and the two of you have been texting for the last few weeks. You still had not revealed who you are to her and it was driving her crazy.

"This girl has me falling head over heels for her and I still have no idea who she is," Kate tells Caitlin as they are driving to practice.

"Well, have you asked her?" Caitlin says as if it was that simple.

Kate turns over to her best friend with a 'you can't be serious' look.

"Oh, that's a good idea! I haven't thought of that," Kate says sarcastically as she hits Caitlin's arm.

"Hey! I am driving!" Caitlin says seriously then breaks out into a laugh.

"Well, what do you know about her?" Cailin asks, turning into the parking structure outside of Carver.

"This is her third year as the mascot, she spends a lot of time studying, and she likes the outdoors - she says she goes on walks a lot. She grew up in Iowa, born and raised. Her parents since then have moved out of state. She is huge on cooking." Kate says.

"Well, that last one is a huge plus considering you can't cook for shit," Caitlin says.

"Okay, okay, this isn't about me, this is about her," Kate says.

"Did she at least tell you her name?" Caitlin asks grabbing her practice bag from the back seat.

Kate shakes her head no, "When she is ready she will. Until then, I will just have to wait." Kate also reaches back and grabs her stuff. "She is worth the wait."

The two of them walk into Carver.

"The last thing I will say is that she has the most beautiful laugh. I have heard it a few times now and it is one of the best things I have ever heard. I don't think she knows I have heard it but I have and I try to get it out of her every chance I get. That's how I know she is worth the wait." Kate says as Caitlin pats her friend on the back.

Over the next few days, you can Kate continue to text nonstop. It is almost too distracting to you at this point as you are starting to head into finals. You told Kate you were going to need some uninterrupted time to study and she respected that.

You were in the library with a few of the cheer girls when you needed to take a break. You decided to go on a little walk to clear your head and stumbled across a mama duck and her babies. You stood there and watched them swim around, seeing the ducklings get in little fights with one another causing you to laugh.

Your laugh didn't go unnoticed as Kate was walking to the library to get some of her own studying done before practice. When she heard the sound, it stopped her dead in her tracks. Her head turned to find the source of her favorite sound.

She saw you standing there looking at the ducks and immediately felt her hands clam. This was the moment she had been waiting for. She walks up to you and gives you a little tap on your shoulder. Your head turns around and you look up at her. Your eyes widen and you stand there speechless.

"Hi," Kate says, all confidence lost the second her eyes met yours.

"Hi," you say back. The two of you stand there just taking in one another.

"It's you," Kate says. A blush creeps into your cheeks as you feel completely exposed without the suit on.

You nod and extend your hand to introduce yourself, captivating Kate even more than she already is.

"How did you know...how did you know it was me?" You ask stunned.

Kate looks down, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Well, your laugh kind of gave it away," she says. "It has become one of my favorite sounds."

Now it was your turn to looks down or really anywhere but her eyes.

You ask her if she wants to join your study group and she does. As you sit there and do work, you glance up at her often to admire her. She is adorable when she is focused. You have seen it time and time again on the court but sitting up close and personal with her now - you are able to see just how cute she is. You look at her and admire how she didn't run when she found out you were the one behind the mask. How she took a step closer to you and looked at you with such loving eyes.

Kate looks up when she feels eyes on her and catches you looking. She gives you a soft smile and you return it. Usually, you would be embarrassed about getting caught staring at someone but with her it is different.

The two of you spend the summer getting to know each other more. Kate would take you on dates and want to spend as much time as she can with you. The two of you would work out together and read at your favorite park (usually resulting in a nap). The summer ended with a week trip to the lake before your guy's senior year. It was the best summer you have ever had.

As school began and basketball games resumed, you went above and beyond to show your love and support for the team. Dating Kate had sort of opened the can of worms of the team learning you're the mascot. They were super hype about it and that caused you to go even harder during games. They all kept your confidentiality out of respect for you and Kate.

In one of the games, you went a little overboard when Kate hit the buzzard-beater shot to win the game. You came up and picked up your girl, running her around the court. She couldn't stop laughing and held onto you for dear life. When you finally put her down you give her a hug, whispering in her ear how proud of her you are.

The rest of the season was no different. You continued to support Kate on the court and would love her even more off of it. Her love for you never ceased to grow as she would catch snippets of you cheering her team on.

Kate looked over at you getting the crowd hyped for their game and just stood in awe. She thought back to when she asked you to help scare Jada in the tunnel that one time - the first time she heard you laugh. Never in a million years did she think that she fall in love with the girl in the suit but is beyond grateful that she did.

AN: CUTE! I hope this was a nice little fluffy one for you. Let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for your love and support 💛

[eruscreaminginthedistance]

The tweets are giving pandering to a very specific subset of the fandom that are still complaining that their HoFs aren't still the main character ngl. Saying "you don't want characters to return cos we'll do something mean to them" is bizarrely juvenile. Like yes, unironically I think anyone who engages with your stories in an intelligent way sees the value in killing off or ruining the happy endings of beloved characters in service of a compelling narrative and showcasing the impacts of our choices.

The choice to sacrifice Hawke or the Warden - potentially Alistair - in The Nightmare was one of the best moments in Inquisition, one that was diluted in playthroughs where one was stuck with, say, Stroud. Mass Effect 3 is full of amazing moments like these - are Kirby and Weekes saying that we wouldn't want another Mordin? Another Legion? All the incredibly impactful moments of that third installment where our decisions played out to either the benefit or detriment of beloved characters? Are Kirby and Weekes really putting all of the fandom under the umbrella of a minority of entitled fans who would rather their faves be the specialist most happiest characters in existence in favour of the dark and high stakes narrative the first two games set the series up to be? What a bizarre response this has been.

All this to say, I wish these devs would just be honest and admit carrying over all those decisions is just too much work. Turning the finger to the fandom and claiming the fans just don't know any better isn't doing anyone any favours. As if returning creator-favourite Morrigan is in any danger or will have anything go wrong for her in any way. Just stick to your guns, guys; overwhelmed at the work is way more understandable than this made-up position that this is secretely what the fans want. Yes, I expect that when you keep bringing back significant characters in Veilguard that you do put in all that effort and do something more interesting with them than just fanservice, hence why I've been asking for months why Varric isn't dead yet.

But for the most part, nobody is expecting fully voiced and mocapped cameos or questlines from every single fan favourite or potentially relevant character. It's really just the throwaway lines and codex entries that people like me would want; just getting a sense that the world is a living thing that is breathing and acting even while we're away, and that even if our impacts did not influence the game itself, they still had an effect on the world.

[biwabiwa]

Ok so I've finally nailed down what it is about the lack of worldstate choices that irks me so much.

(Complaining/venting FOR FUN below! I'm not attacking the bioware team or anyone who agrees with their decision. The game's not out yet/set in stone, and I'll be 100% playing it regardless)

It's not about me wanting cameos or specific lines of dialogue mentioning previous choices or codex entries. As nice as it would be to hear about our new Divine or ruler of Ferelden, i get that it's not needed.

But take Morrigan for example.

Morrigan is in Veilguard. But a Morrigan who has a loving spouse & son is objectively going to be a different person than a Morrigan who was stabbed & left for dead by the Warden with no child. Or a Morrigan who was in love with the HoF but they refused her deal and died.

Should there be a line where Morrigan is like "by the way, I have a son!" Or "btw the love of my life is dead!" No. That's pretty unlikely to fit into Rook's story, and thus isn't necessary.

BUT could we have a line where a bitter Morrigan--who was betrayed--comments that "people should never be trusted", versus a line where a more content Morrigan--who considers the HoF their family--might say that "there are exceptions" with a fond look.

Small things that really show the player that they've affected the world & the characters they love.

Same thing with Varric!

Would it make sense for Varric to just bring up Hawke out of nowhere to Rook? ... uh yeah. actually it would. That's kind of his thing. But OK let's say he doesn't!

You're telling me a Varric who's been living a Hawke-less existence for the last ten years is going to act exactly the same as a Varric who hasn't?!

"But it's been ten years! Varric wouldn't be hung up on hawke that long!" Have you met Varric? He's been hung up on Bianca for even longer!

Anyway, the choices we made with the companions we loved are sooo much of what i love about Dragon Age, so I'm bummed that we won't be getting those things...

That said I'm still going to play the crap outta the game and hopefully love it. So I'll be there on day one ready to see what happens.

[felassan]

Excerpts from this IGN article, under a cut due to spoilers:

"John Epler [on the Executors & the secret ending]: These voices have been influencing events in very subtle, very light touch ways to get towards a specific outcome. As to what their ultimate goal is, we're not going to get into that quite yet. But the idea is that they've always been kind of in the background. They know how to say the right thing at the right time to nudge towards an outcome that they want. It doesn't mean that any of these characters, any of the people shown in that ending don't have free will. They all still made their choices. Loghain still chose to betray Cailin because of his fear of what the Wardens were going to do. Bartrand still locked Varric and Hawke away in the Deep Roads because of greed. But who gave Bartrand the idea that this was the expedition worth taking? Who was the soldier in the room with Loghain who maybe just casually mentioned, "oh, I'm sure glad the Wardens are on our side this time”? No one's being pushed. No one's being forced to do anything, but [the voices] are very good at knowing the right person and finding that little place where they can, with a gentle nudge, shift events in their favor. Corinne Busche: I like how you say that, John, because it's almost as if through their gentle nudgings, their whispers, they're just stoking those feelings and those desires or insecurities that these characters within the world already had. That was already within them. Loghain, Bartrand, the magisters, and the Breach are the largest figures in these illustrations. Why them? Why, for example, Bartrand versus Meredith and Orsino? Epler: Without getting into what maybe the future holds for them, their goal is to remove the elven gods from the table. Again, [the gods] are the most powerful forces on Thedas up to this point. And whatever [the voices’] plans may be, another powerful magical force on the table like that is going to pose some obstacles. And I think the other thing about the Executors, they're very risk averse. They've been playing the extremely long game because the one thing they don't want to do is leave any of their pieces in check. They're always going to go for the option that keeps them the furthest away from harm, while also advancing these goals. The gods are a big unknown for them. No one really knew just until the Veilguard what was going to happen with them. So if you look back chronologically to Dragon Age: Origins, there's definitely a chain of events that leads from then to the gods being taken off the table. Solas' dagger is the red lyrium idol from the Deep Roads. Corypheus obviously had a big part to play in weakening the veil and setting events in motion. One thing that I think is fun to think about is Thedas has been around for a very long time, but these world ending events are happening with such incredible frequency all of a sudden. Why now? Why in this age, why this specific time? You start to get a sense of why that might be – not because anyone's going in and controlling kingdoms or taking over armies. Someone is seeing the end game coming and maybe they're setting up for it. Hopefully we get to see these voices explored a bit more in a potential Dragon Age 5? Epler: Never say never."

"I know that some people were surprised to let go of the Keep this time around. Now that it's all said and done, are there more choices you wish you'd carried over or included? Busche: The big thing for us is we wanted to make this story, every single choice you make, feel relevant to it. One thing that we could have stated more clearly or maybe alluded to more clearly in the game is the idea that just because these choices from the past library of games didn't necessarily impact this particular story, that doesn't mean they're gone. This is a chance for us to really key in to what matters with these events and what's happening in Northern Thedas. I do fully expect that these choices going clear back to Dragon Age Origins will again matter. So just wanted to be on record with that. Every one of your choices that people have made throughout their Dragon Age journey, those are still your choices. And if you've seen the secret 2D ending we talked about, some of these events being quite pertinent. It's easy to see how those choices can and will be relevant into the future."

"What were ways that the Evanuris itself changed in development between Inquisition and The Veilguard? Epler: It’s funny because in reality there hasn't been a significant shift in how we perceive the Evanuris from the end of Trespasser to now. If you have the art book, if you look at some of the old visual designs from [Project] Joplin, we had this idea of this very clear distance between Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain. Ghilan'nain is the mad scientist. She's in search of creating the perfect form. She's all about experimentation. Elgar'nan is much more the tyrant. One thing that I love about Elgar'nan – he spends a not inconsiderable amount of his magic power looking handsome, looking normal, because he's also incredibly vain. I think that speaks to his character. In Veilguard, he doesn't show up until Fire and Ice because one thing he is also extremely, extremely cautious. Busche: One of the things that was really interesting in development, one of my favorite stories is we knew we were going to explore some of these themes through the regrets that the Veilguard witness together in the Lighthouse. When we actually saw those come together and we saw the potential of the Crossroads, that's when we decided, actually we want to go a little bit deeper and let people relive some of these moments through Solas' rebellion and even see Ghilan'nain before the full extent of the Blight, the corruption, the changes to her had taken shape. And I think it was just really an interesting sign that there was something there that captured our imagination as well and to be able to explain that and have players relive it was a really fun discovery."

"Can you tell us about the fate of the other elven gods like Sylaise and June? Are these gods now mortal in the Fade after the defeat of their Archdemons, or were they weakened enough to die in their prison? Epler: Yeah, I mean, so we haven't been super explicit about what happens when the gods die. In my mind, they're either dead or they're the closest thing to it. When a Warden kills an Archdemon, in Origins and DA2 and DAI, before the Gods are out in the world, there is part of that elven god's spirit that is bound to that dragon. It finds the nearest source of Blight. Now, if it's a darkspawn, a darkspawn has a direct connection to the Blight. There's enough energy there for it to rebuild a body, rebuild itself as an Archdemon. When it goes into a Warden, that connection is very different and what ends up happening is essentially the fragment of the God spirit and the fragment of the Warden annihilate each other. So nothing to go back to the god. So if they're there, they're a shadow of their former self. But obviously when Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain come out, there's not that distance. There's not that need to use the Blight as essentially an in-between medium and they can just regain that fragment of their soul. They're now mortal, but they're just as powerful as they were before. Busche: And this is part of a theme within The Veilguard. We're tackling some pretty big subject matter, some of the largest outstanding mysteries within Dragon Age lore. So we want to tie up some of those loose ends, give really satisfying answers, but we also want to leave the door open just a little bit. So questions like that, what happens to the rest of the gods? Those are themes that we want to be able to explore, but also be able to advance the franchise. We learned that the Tevinter Old Gods were just the dragon thralls of the elven gods. What are the implications for Tevinter here? Will this totally reshape how they understand their history and their culture? Epler: There's going to be a lot of people seeking power in various ways through the process of rebuilding Thedas. Because again, no matter where you are in Thedas, the war against the gods had an impact. And I think speaking of Tevinter in particular, there are going to be those who feel that sharing the truth is going to be the best course for people. There are going to be people who are motivated to lie. There's going to be people who are seeking to be proclaimed the new prophets of the old Gods and saying that that person over there is liar. In a world with so many unreliable narrators, smart and savvy political operators can use that to their own benefit. And, I mean, Tevinter is rife with people who bluntly were maybe not openly on the side of the Venatori, but certainly wouldn't have been too upset if they'd won – they're going to have their own motivations. Busche: It makes me think of the choice at the end of Bellara's arc, in fact, where you're literally taking this repository of ancient elven knowledge and choosing to share it, to make it known or not. At the time, that seems like perhaps an inconsequential decision for the moment, but when you look at the future of Thedas and what it means for the elven people, it's perhaps one of the biggest."

"After everything the team learns through Solas’ memories, Harding wonders if they’ve disproven the Maker exists. Is that the case? Or is the Maker, like the elven and Tevinter gods, real just not in the way that we think he is? Epler: That's one mystery that I personally don't want to ever give a definitive answer to one way or the other. The moment you start to try to explain it or try to provide a definitive answer, I do think that takes some of the mystery out of the world. For what Harding’s saying, the question you asked: is the Maker what we think it is? Maybe, maybe not. There could be something completely different to what the Chantry is saying. I think that's one of those wells that we are always going to want to keep open because I do think it adds some interesting context. What the Maker is to Andraste followers and what the Maker could be to everyone else could be two completely different things. Busche: I also love what it does, from a world building and storytelling perspective, to the power structures and then the more personal and intimate. For instance, there's a conversation where Rook and team are sitting around the table in the Lighthouse and Rook gets to lend their perspective: “I still believe,” or “I never believed,” or “maybe we did disprove it.” Those are questions of faith that I think are so interesting to character and world building. And then consider the power and political influence that the Chantry has. If these questions are raised, does that power go away? Well, I doubt it. Epler: In a world that's rebuilding, in a world that's just had these massive revelations occur, I can see people in the Chantry are probably going to use that as an opportunity to try to seize more power. The more we shy away from ever being a hundred percent clear, the more interesting stories we can tell there. The reveal that the first elves came from spirits is huge, obviously. Can you speak to that a bit? When do we see the shift from spirit-created elves to the elves we know today? Epler: One interesting thing about that reveal actually is originally it was going to show up as part of Bellara's personal quest. That was going to be how Anaris was able to turn elves into demons so quickly and so easily, how he's able to start creating his army. We realized maybe putting a massive reveal that changes the state of an entire lineage of the world? Probably not something that needs to go directly in a personal quest. But yeah, I mean, it is a massive reveal, it does change a lot of their history. That's something that is the theme of opening these questions about where all these groups came from and what their origins are. Busche: And I do personally really love what you just touched on there, John, which is the differences but also parallels behind the origins of each of the lineages. Taash's arc explores having dragon's fire in your veins. We know dwarves are the children of the Titans. They can hear the song of the Stone. Knowing now elves have their origins from spirits. Really fascinating parallels that, again, create some interesting storytelling possibilities."

"Speaking of the Titans: we learn Solas effectively made them Tranquil. We've heard rumblings that the Rite of Tranquility can be reversed. Do you think that's something that could happen with the Titans? Epler: I mean, in the fullness of time anything can happen. I will say that's one of those mysteries that we're probably going to keep close to the chest. Have some of these reveals always been part of the history of Thedas? Or were certain things developed as part of The Veilguard? Epler: It's a tricky question because I've been on since Origins, but I used to be in QA and Cinematic, so I wasn't as privy to the deep lore discussions back then. I will say since Trespasser, since Inquisition, these are all things that we've been talking about for at least that long. So it's part of the franchise for as long as I've been around on the lore side of things. But I mean, that's the thing, as we tell stories, as we start to figure out where we want the franchise to go, what we want to happen, ideas change. Another reason why I'm so hesitant to just drop lore into the world without a storytelling reason is sometimes something we thought we wanted to do we realize maybe isn't the most interesting way to handle that. And then we go back to the drawing board. The balancing act is always, you never want to have lied to the players, and you never want to outright contradict something you said before, but the beauty of unreliable narrators is you can twist the truth about 45 degrees to the left and do something interesting without ever contradicting your past self. Busche: I will say that I think the simple answer is that both approaches are true. There are elements that were heading through to a pretty clear conclusion. There were some that were a little bit more mysterious, but some of the most fun that, at least for me we've had are those moments when you and I are looking at these follower arcs and the impact of the stories and conceiving of how does this tie together when we revisit some of these themes. So there is an intentionality about what we do going forward. And again, we don't want to share too much on that, but certainly it influenced some of our decisions and some of the reveals along the way."

"Varric – may he rest in peace – reveals that Solas’ dagger is actually the infamous red lyrium idol. How was Solas able to restore it to its original form? Epler: Would it surprise you to know it was another ritual? Solas does love his rituals. Classic Solas. Epler: Yeah, so in the time between Trespasser and The Veilguard, Solas was able to cleanse the Blight from the dagger and restore it to its former shape. One of the reasons it was hidden in the idol was to keep it hidden. It's an incredibly powerful artifact. It's not the kind of thing you want falling into the hands of a Venatori magister or an Antaam. Obviously, at the end of DA2, Meredith tries to use it, turns it into a sword. We all know what happened there. Rest in...I would say rest in pieces Meredith because she's now a giant piece of red lyrium. But it is an artifact that is tremendously powerful. Only Solas knew how to make it its most powerful, which was the cleansed version of the dagger. As long as its red lyrium, it still has the Blight in it, which means you're always going to be susceptible to the whims and whispers of Blight. We saw it happen with Bartrand. It drove him completely mad. Even when Varric picks up the piece in DA2, he can still hear some of the whispers. So for Solas, before he used this thing, he needed to make sure it was purified, it was cleansed. Obviously, the Evanuris made their own dagger out of red lyrium. They don't care, they're already blighted. It's all the same to them. But for Solas, it was a ritual that he had to do. We talk about the elves following Solas at the end of Trespasser. It's not said explicitly in the game, but one of the things they're helping do is getting this ritual ready so we could cleanse this dagger. Busche: One of the interesting properties of the idol has always been how inherently malleable it is. That's something very unique to it that we absolutely wanted to lean into. What was so fun for us is there were theories we saw out there in the fandom YouTube videos about what was this idol? And indeed did Solas convert it to the dagger and a credit to those fans that figured it out. I don't know how they pieced it together, but cheers to them."

"I've always wondered what the idol is actually to. Epler: Solas is a very nostalgic person. I'd say an idol to Mythal. It's his guilt, his regrets poured into this thing. Because, as Corinne said, it's malleable. That's the shape it took. The final act has choices with resounding consequences. Solas’ fate, for instance, can vary wildly. How did y'all land on the different endings for him? Will his fate affect future games? Epler: I can't answer the second one yet. It was the three fantasies of dealing with Solas. We have Solavellans or people who like Solas, they want to redeem him. They think he needs to come back to the good side. At the end, we wanted to make sure that those players had that opportunity, especially Solavellans who wanted their Inquisitor to have that tragic embrace in eternity with Solas. We were very vague about what happens on the other side of that, but it was important to us to make sure that Solavellans had that opportunity. I will say I was personally the one who really wanted an opportunity to punch out Solas. I was the big advocate for the fight ending way back when. I had it pictured as a big knockdown drag out fight where you and him basically fist fought. In my mind, it was very over the top. I think what we got was a better ending, but I wanted to make sure that the players who chose the option in Trespasser where they said “Solas, have I ever wanted to hear one of your big long explanations?” That's for them, that's their opportunity to say: "nope, Solas, you're the bad guy. I'm just going to beat the crap out of you. Here we go." I think outsmart is a very specific fantasy. Because here's this guy who's been kind of needling you the entire game, he's been kind of a little condescending. Even if you build a rapport, you can always tell he thinks he's just a little bit more clever, just a little bit smarter than you. So getting the opportunity to outsmart the Dread Wolf was something that we thought was important to allow players to do because what more satisfying way to deal with this smug jerk who's been in your head barking at you for the last 40 to 60 hours at the end where it matters the most, than to be the one who outsmarts him. It was important to give players that opportunity to pull one over on him. And I love the line he says at the end. Because in fight, obviously he goes off, he's screaming, he's frothing, he's angry. At the end of outsmart, he says, “And I have finally met my match.” There's just this acknowledgement of, yes, that's right, Solas. I was smarter than you, eat it. And yeah, I think there's just those three fantasies of dealing with it. Busche: Even in that moment, John, he still can't quite get over that little bit of smugness of how well he's taught you. And that one has to sting a little bit, that had to sting. I will absolutely confirm that in so many meetings, more than I can count, John would tell me about this fantasy of punching out Solas and that knockdown drag out fight. Put 'em in the ring! Busche: And, look, as the resident Solavellan, that's appalling! I could never. I will say I absolutely love that there's two variants of the redeem ending as well, whether your Inquisitor romanced Solas or not. Very important to us that you could have that satisfying ending whether you were sympathetic to Solas, even if you know he was misguided. But, also, if you cried like I did at that epilogue slide at the end of Trespasser with the Solavellan romance we knew we needed to pay that off. And my goodness, that one matters to people. It was really intimidating to approach that with the weight and reverence it deserved. I will say also, we didn't touch on the sacrifice ending."

"Let's talk about it. Busche: Everybody dies. There's a moment there that I think is one of the most powerful, where you see Solas, your friends rushing up to help you and to try and stop Solas, and seeing him unleash his powers to turn people to stone on your companions, seeing them fall in that way, that sense of helplessness, that one really rips my heart out. It does. It's such a reminder that all of these events have always been on a knife’s edge. John, like you said, these world-ending events have happened with so much frequency. It's only been because of luck, in some cases, that a person has stopped it. Epler: Well, yeah, exactly. I mean, you had the Warden who happened to fetch the treaties. You had the Inquisitor who happened to be in the right place at the right time to get the mark instead of Corypheus. And I mean, that is ultimately, I think one of the, just kind of circling all the way back to the beginning. One of the characteristics of all the heroes is they act in unexpected ways, and that's how they're able to thwart the end of the world so many times in a row is they're just the right person, at the right place, at the right time. I think, yeah, the sacrifice ending is a great example of sometimes that luck can run out. You need luck and preparedness. One of the things we really wanted to emphasize with that ending is it's still a victory, but it's more of a pyrrhic victory than the other ones. You won, you stop the end of the world, but the example that you set kind of dies with you to some degree. There's a monument set up, but Thedas is going to be in a dark place at this point. I think it's an interesting way to look at that ending in particular."

"In the final act, there are two major companion choices. First, whether or not Neve and Bellara are blighted and captured by Elgar’nan. Second, perhaps the toughest choice: whether or not Harding or Davrin will lead a distraction team and, ultimately, die. Why these choices and why these companions? Epler: So for Neve and Bellara. The two groups that have been the most directly affected by the gods up to this point are obviously the elves – it's their gods that are back – and Tevinter, Minrathous. You know, the Venatori have either fully seized power or have made some pretty big inroads in Minrathous, depending on which city you save. And the gods have come back and brought their dragons and proclaimed them as the gods of the Tevinter people. So both Bellara and Neve have a direct investment. Not that everyone else doesn't, but they have the most direct investment in stopping the gods at this point. We wanted to give you that choice between these two characters who, again, have a very personal score to settle with the gods and are both mages whereas Emmrich obviously wants to stop the end of the world, but doesn't have quite that same connection to the events that are going on. So those two made the most sense as to who would disable them. The other thing is something that shows up in the visuals. Minrathous, Tevinter in general has always been kind of...there's echoes of ancient elven magic in everything to Tevinter and Minrathous does because it's meant as almost a cargo cult imitation of what the ancient elves were capable of. The ancient elves worked lyrium into their buildings, Tevinter uses gold and jewels because they don't have the capacity to work lyrium. So it made the most sense for them. I'll say for the other choice, we knew Harding had to be one of them, and then we had to ask ourselves: we've got a fan favorite returning character from Inquisition. Who could possibly equal that in terms of making this difficult choice? It's like, well, Assan. Assan and Davrin. Davrin obviously has a direct link to this at this point because of Weisshaupt. He's got a very personal stake in it, and it made sense for the two of them to be the ones to be the choice to lead the distraction team, because again, we want to find those personal connections between the characters and the events that are going on. And, you know, the case of Harding, she has so much investment in this story because she's been living it since Inquisition. And then Davrin. Davrin's entire order just fell at the end of the previous act. He's going to have a real strong investment in stopping the guys too here. Busche: One thing that's so interesting about that choice too, the Harding and Davrin choice is it actually presented some interesting complexity and some emotional investment we could tie into, which always makes for a more satisfying, I will say harder choice to make. I'll say in one of my playthroughs, Taash and Harding were in a relationship together and I happened to be romancing Davrin. Impossible. Impossible decision in that moment."

"I do have one last question. We hear during Taash's personal quest about this “coming storm.” Does that have anything to do with the voices across the sea? Is it something we're going to explore? Epler: How do I put this? There are a lot of clues scattered throughout the game of how all these things may connect. I would say Taash's arc is obviously a good one, the end of Bellara's arc and some of the codex entries in Arlathan may be another place to start digging for clues. I'm a big fan of scattering a lot of little hints and seeing what people pick up. Alyssa Mora is an Associate Syndication Editor at IGN. Gaming & Entertainment are her lifeblood, particularly when they involve romance and/or moody vampires."

[source]

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day twenty-four: dry humping

>>> hawks that’s it that’s the post!!

>>> starring: keigo takami x curvy!f!reader >>>cw: ur just so submissive n breedable he can’t help it, mild exhibitionism, no aftercare, mating press, creampie. >>> wc: 2.1k i’m sorry my LAPTOP >>> event masterlist

keigo is a busy—and forgetful—man. he forgot his lunch at home at least twice a week, though you were beginning to think it was just so you would get all prettied up and make your way to his office to bring it to him.

you do it every time, knowing without a doubt that your hero would work straight through lunch if he wasn’t looking at it sitting on his desk. between running his own agency and reporting to the hpsc and his sidekicks and the media—taking care of himself was the last thing on his mind. thank goodness for his lovely little lady who always made sure he slept and showered and ate. he would definitely be in ruin if it wasn’t for you. you were more than he deserves; soft, sweet, and so, so, sexy. you certainly knew how to ease the stress in his life and solve the ache in his heart.

and apparently, the rumbling in his stomach.

you always took special care of your appearance anytime you visited hawks at his agency. you don’t know why, necessarily, but you felt the need to look your best when you strut to the top floor of his prestigious building. maybe it’s your way of showing off, maybe you just want him to feel proud of his choice. either way, you put on your cutest dress and do your makeup in the style that he likes, packing his bento and dutifully walking to his office.

keigo noticed about halfway through his commute to work that he left his lunch at home. he could easily fly back to the house and pick it up, he wouldn’t even be late for his morning patrol given his quirk—but! he knows you’ll bring it. it’s a thursday and he hadn’t forgotten it all week—he didn’t want you thinking that he didn’t wanna see his girl during the work day now. he looked forward to his break today, smiling a little wider as he flew towards his agency with the knowledge that his little dove would be stopping by to spend it with him.

the first half of the day passes rather hectically—though that was considered normal in his experience. he was short in sidekicks today but not short on missions that needed to be completed. he had to cover more ground than usual because of it and he had to do an interview right before your unscheduled but definitely scheduled arrival.

but as soon as he hears the cute little heels he bought you clink against the tile of his agency, he’s nearly cured. the headache he was developing eases, tunnel vision clearing up and his brow relaxing visibly at the sight of you.

“little dove!!!” he chirps, a few of his feathers taking the bento off your hands like you were carrying some heavy load.

“you forgot your lunch again, keigo. if you want me to eat lunch with you, all you have to do is ask.” you give him a knowing look, lifting your leg so you could take a little seat on the corner of his desk. he smiles at you with the utmost admiration the entire time—gold avian eyes glowing with soft affection, though your yellow sundress was definitely darkening his thoughts the longer he stared at the sweetheart neckline.

“asking takes all the fun out of it, little bird.” he leans forward, kissing the tip of your nose before going back to the mess of papers scattered around. you can tell it’s been a long day already—his shifty eyes and fidgeting hands shuffling over endless blurs of words that he needed to organize before he allowed himself to get distracted with you.

you roll your eyes at both his response to you and his adhd style mess that somehow made perfect sense to him. you pry the lid off the top of his bento, unstacking the little boxes to prepare to force feed him if necessary. you toss your hair over your shoulder, sliding off the desk to bend over his lap with your offering. he pretends to not notice what you’re doing—but you don’t understand. he has to. you basically have your tits in his face and he’s so stressed out that just the sight of his soft, warm pillows have him ready to risk it all. he can smell your sweet perfume, some of your stubborn hair still tickling his stubble-covered jaw.

“keigo…” you raise your brow, his gaze trained on your cleavage makes it clear that he was just lost in thought, not in paperwork. not that you cared—you thought his workload was ridiculous and that he was much harder on himself than he deserved. “you need to eat.” you huff, and your tone snaps him out of his dirty day dreams. he leans forward and takes the food off your extended chopsticks, smiling up at you innocently.

“wanna eat you instead.” he pouts, swiftly turning your wrist so you wouldn’t be able to hold onto the chopsticks before tugging you into his lap. you would chuff at such a cheesy reply—especially given his usual creativity, but he doesn’t give you the chance. he’s feeling at the fat of your hips, letting his face fall forward into the swollen mounds of your breasts. you giggle at the feeling of his scruff against your flesh, wet lips tracking over your chest. that feels far less funny, especially as his hands slide to your waist and back to your thighs; you find yourself arching into him and panting softly, trying to keep your volume down.

he just couldn’t help himself. you were such a relief in more ways than one, and he needed you to work your magic. it felt like he was the magician though, his hand moving further north to ghost over your cunt, your dress hiked up enough for him to tell his little dove isn’t wearing any underwear. how thoughtful of you, truly. it seems to him you wanted to relieve him too—of course his sweetness would.

your fingers knit in his hair as he cups your exposed pussy—warm and already slick for him. he grins a bit, looking up at you with his same love-filled gaze. he guides your need down on his lap—making your clit catch on his pants so deliciously your cheeks warm. he was biting his lip at the cute way you tug on his hair and struggle to be quiet.

“keep it down, pretty. don’t wanna get hawks in trouble, yeah?” he taunts a little—all part of his relief, you know. watching you wrestle to control yourself was so adorable, he just had to see more. his hands speed you up as his other hand pulls down the neckline of your sexy little dress.

you nod eagerly, hips humping up into him in order to chase that addicting burn in your stomach. you knew he’d give it to you—he wasn’t that mean, but he certainly wanted to see you squirm. you bite down on your lip to muffle your whines, feeling the intensity claw at your lungs to leave you gasping as softly as you could manage. he grins, a smug expression of his control over you as you nod vigorously—a silent sign that you were about to reach your end.

he nods to permiss it, eyes trained on how your fat tits bounce with your stuttering hips. he flickers up to watch your face, your mouth hung open in a perfect o—complimenting your crossed eyes. he chuckled a little, leaning up to kiss over your chest and wrap his arms around you with a knowing look.

“aw, my lil dove could hardly hold it together!” he giggles, the imprint of his dick shifting against your sensitive slit as he stood.

“mhm, ‘s hard to be quiet for you daddy.” you nod in agreement, pouting at him while securing your hold around his neck.

“poor baby—let’s go to the roof so you can be as loud as you want..” he purrs despite his avian nature. you bite your lip at the suggestion, just as riveting and tempting as the first time he offered to take you up there.

“need more of you—don’t care where.” you kiss at his jawline, only making his wings twitch with excitement for you. then the wind is whipping through your hair as keigo takes you to ‘his v.i.p. lounge.’

he lands smoothly as always, the blanket he leaves up for his lunch breaks with you serving as the barrier between your near naked form and the cool tile lurking beneath. he’s got you on your back instantly, shrugging out of his jacket and working on his belt with great haste. he’s focused on your impatient body, the slick coating your thighs and the light hickies he placed earlier combined with your needy face and spread legs had him fumbling to get his dick in you as soon as humanly possible. his pants drop to his knees and he pulls your hips forward, playing around in the mess he’s made of you. you whine at his teasing, shaking your head with a pout.

he chuckles, pushing your knees up to your ears as he sinks into your waiting cunt. his head falls back at how you fit around him. there was no pussy like this in the entire world, and he would fuck you like it.

“gah—ah~” you moan out at the weight of him nestled inside your body—the perfect movements he settled into to build that fire in your gut again, and this was just the beginning; two of his feathers flocked to your chest to rub against your perky nipples.

your back arches at the sensation, and he begins to fuck into you harder. you’re so intoxicating to him, you’re perfect and pliant nature—your stunning face and even more beautiful soul had him by the balls.

and then his phone rings. he groans, sending it to voicemail with a click—rutting against your womb at a pace most men would falter in. but then they call back, and he realizes that it has to be important. he listens to the voicemail message—and his suspicions were right. emergency in kyoto.

“gotta make this quick, darlin’. got some trouble a little bit away…gonna be a good girl and let me use my pretty pussy?” he asks, tossing his phone over his shoulder. you nod, his pace hadn’t slowed even while he was listening to the call, making you

a pile of mush already. you would let him do anything to you, and you weren’t sure he’d even have to ask.

“knew you would. so good for me to use.” he coos to you, languidly dragging his cock through your walls. you can feel every ridge of his dick, hitting every spot almost magically. your head rolls along your blanket, screaming for him just like he wanted. you can tell he’s working hard to finish—to fuck you and then go do his job, sweat beads along his hairline, pearly teeth digging at his lip. “geez you’re such a good sleeve for daddy. want to be full, little dove?”

he doesn’t know where to look. your gorgeous cunt sucking him in, your perfect tits bouncing in time with every brutal slam of his hips to your ass. how would he choose? how about your mouth forming perfect prayers of his name or your eyes rolling back in your head as he pins you down and makes you take it.

“fuck—daddy! please—“ you were so close, on the precipice of something intense and earth shattering. this wasn’t like earlier, the fire was uncontrollable and you couldn’t hold it much longer.

“gonna cum baby girl—just like that, fuck yeah.” he pants, guiding your hips forward to meet his insane thrusts. he spills his load, stilling his hips before you could tip off that precious precious edge—and you knew immediately he did it on purpose. you were his relief, he had to hurry! but don’t worry, keigo won’t leave you wanting for long.

he leans over to give you a quick smooch, tucking himself back into his pants and fixing his belt, giving you that same smug grin as he reaches for his jacket.

“lunch was delicious babe. dinner will be even better, i’ll see you at home!!” he coos, pecking your lips once more for good measure before he’s just a flash of scarlet in the clouds.

you’re still reeling, head spinning from denial and the feeling of his seed pearling down your legs. once you’ve finally got your breath, you’ve rationalized his departure. you knew he had a crazy day today—it really wasn’t his fault. plus, he was going to make it up to you when he got off tonight. but…wait a minute.

how the fuck are you getting off this roof?

[motelsnleatherseats]

Sam's always been possessive of Dean, from the way a child is possessive of their parent. It made sense, considering his big brother was always his constant, always the one to take care of him and save him from the heartache of parent abandonment. He never liked when Dean would take too long talking to someone, or when his trips to the store always ran over time, but Dean thinks it's normal cause Sammy's always been a little clingy.

Things start to change once Dean's showing more interest in girls, and Sam is no longer pouting from a distance, but starting to interject, sometimes physically. It starts with him gluing himself to Dean's side, making his presence and annoyance known with little huffs of impatience. Then he starts to pull at his sleeve or bump into his side, trying to coerce him to get out of whatever company he has so he doesn't have to share.

It completely catches Dean off guard when Sam comes back from the bathroom and suddenly sits on his lap as he's chatting up the waitress. The look of surprise is evident between them both and Dean attempts to scoot back to push Sam off of him but he doesn't budge, and he doesn't stop staring down the waitress either until she walks away, and it's only then that Sam takes his spot across from Dean without another word, refusing to respond to brother's 'what the hell?'

There are nights when Dean tries to take advantage of when Sam's extra tired, knowing that he'll sleep through pretty much anything or at least be dazed enough to blur the edges of his reality. He risks bringing a girl into the motel room and having a make-out session on the couch while Sam's in the far end of the room in bed, but he feels uneasy, and with a glance back towards his little brother, he swears he can see his eyes even in the dark.

Sam says nothing about it the following day, but he watches Dean like a hawk and is quick to stand whenever he looks like he's getting ready to go somewhere. It's only when Sam literally backs himself up against the door to keep him from leaving that he calls him out on it.

"Sammy, what the hell, man. You're actin' like a yorkie with separation anxiety," he sighed, not with frustration, more so concern. Sam's been acting more out of pocket lately than usual, but he hasn't been talking about it. Then again, Dean hasn't been asking either.

"Why do you need to go and see girls?" Sam asked not even a beat afterward, straight to the point. Dean inwardly groaned. It wasn't like his little brother was a kid anymore, he was 15 and had surely gotten the sex ed thing from school at some point. Plus it's not like he wasn't a good lookin' guy. Sure, he was a little gangly, maybe a little too nerdy for some, but girls sometimes liked the bookish ones.

"Because a man has needs, little bro. Between my libido and your puberty, there's a little too much testosterone in here for my liking."

Sam doesn't appear phased but his eyes are intense, like he's looking for a sign to act. Dean's caught off guard by that look, and his expression reflects his confusion with a small tilt of his head and a furrow of his brows.

"I can take care of your needs."

"What? Sam, no. You're not getting it--"

"You want to get your dick wet, I get it. I can do that."

Dean's face drained of blood, the rest of it rushing through his body like a cold chill. Sam's suggestion, let alone choice of words, had him caught like a deer in headlights.

"I see the way you look at me sometimes, Dean. Like the way you look at girls. When you think I don't notice," Sam continued on, and Dean gave a nervous laugh, his brain scrambling to come up with some kind of rebuttal. A denial. Anything. He took a step back when Sam moved towards him, feeling like it was some kind of a trap. It had to be.

"S-Sam, you don't know what you're talking about. I don't look at you like that, you're my brother." His feet are moving back on their own accord as Sam matched his pace, like he's cornering his prey. His heart pounds, making his entire chest feel like it's vibrating.

"It's okay, Dean. I like it when you look at me like that," Sam replied, reaching a hand out towards his big brother that Dean tries to avoid, but the backs of his knees make contact with the bed and all the sudden Sam is right up against him. "It makes me feel good. I can make you feel good too."

Sam pushed Dean back to sit on the bed as the last word left his lips and he's quick to climb onto his lap, causing his brother to try and lean back and away from it, hands anchored into the sheets, white knuckling them to prevent them from doing anything stupid. Shit, shit, shit. This is really happening.

"Sam, don't--"

"Don't you want to feel good, Dean?" Sam asked with a voice all too sweet and pleading, straddling him as he moved to run a hand over his chest and Dean can swear that Sam can feel the heavy thumps of his heart against his palm. His breath is so shallow, he can't even really tell if he's breathing at all. "Don't you want to touch me?"

Dean swallowed hard, his lips parted and feeling dry all the sudden as he stared as his little brother with disbelief in his eyes. Did he? Would he admit it? All questions vanished as he felt Sam curl his fingers around the amulet he gifted him, giving it a little tug as if to tempt him further, to lure him in, and he reached up to take Sam's hand in a silent request to stop.

"Sammy, we can't, we're--"

"Brothers, I know. I don't care," he interrupted, shifting his fingers to curl around Dean's hand to prevent him from pulling away. "I want you to touch me, Dean. Please." He pulled out the big guns, his features softening; that damned puppy-dog eyed expression worked wonders on his brother. "Touch me."

Dean closed his eyes and gave a small squeeze to his little brother's hand, exhaling a defeated sigh through his nose.

"You can't ask this of me."

"I'm not asking, I'm telling," Sam replied, moving his free hand to the back of Dean's neck, leaning forward to push their chests together, doubling down on his efforts as he nuzzled against his cheek, corners of their mouth mere millimeters from each other. "Dean," he whispered and Dean tensed, his resolve a pendulum, swinging heavy in the direction of his little brother.

Much to Sam's delight, Dean caved and curled his arm around his waist, pressing their lips together in a kiss that had them surging together, any and all resistance to their sordid feelings disappeared in a millisecond. Sam gave a mix between a whimper and a moan against his brother's lips and Dean's back went rigid, nearly gasping at the sound. With things now set in motion, it was full steam ahead, and Dean twisted their forms to lay Sammy down on the bed, positioning himself above him as their lips and tongues eagerly explored new sensations until their lungs ached for air.

Dean leaned up after breaking the kiss, gazing down at his little brother with flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips, glossy with saliva and decorated with a smile. A genuine smile. Something Dean hadn't seen in a long time and it made his chest tighten. He watched as Sam moved his hands down to grip the hem of his shirt, lifting it off of his form to expose his slender torso, newly forming muscles under soft, unscarred skin that was just begging to be touched. Dean followed suit and remained hovering above him, the amulet swinging between them until Sam angled his chin forward to let his lips catch the adornment.

Dean shuddered. He literally felt his limbs go weak at the action, his cock suddenly throbbing as his body pulsed with heat. He leaned down to capture his lips again, letting his hands finally do as requested, touching over Sam's torso with reverence. Everything happened so quickly, yet it felt like time had suspended around them, their every sense flooded with each other.

The wet sounds of their kiss were decorated with moans and whimpers, their hands touching and exploring before buttons were being undone and the rest of their clothes were being dropped on the floor. Dean slotted between Sam's thighs and pressed their hips together, undulating and grinding, earning the prettiest sounds from his brother's mouth that rivaled even the most desperate of girls.

"Dean.. De~" Sam whined between kisses that were growing a little sloppy, his cock leaking messily against his abdomen, the rutting becoming even more slick as Dean gave heated grunts and breathy sounds. He wasn't going to last much longer, not with the way Sam was coming undone underneath him.

"Sammy, fuck, gonna cum.." Dean spoke, his voice broken, barely able to get the words out before he was shooting a hot, thick load across his little brother's tummy, Sam right behind him. His pretty pink lips fell agape, labored breaths and whimpers dripping from them like warm honey as his eyes unfocused and his lashes fluttered, his smaller form trembling as he came while panting his brother's name like a mantra or prayer.

They remained pressed together in the aftermath of their orgasms, catching their breath and letting the waves of pleasure slowly come to a dull tingle throughout their bodies. Sam enjoyed the weight of his brother pressed down on him, and Dean enjoyed the way Sam's arms stayed around him to keep him there, basking in his warmth and the scent of sweat and cum.

"Don't go out tonight," Sam requested, and Dean gave a breathless chuckle, reassuring him with a hand through his hair that those plans had long since been abandoned.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sammy. Just wanna stay right here with you."