#i cannot believe i actually spent Very Real Time editing this

[hanfocus]

[thelureking]

LILIUM'S 2023 GAME LIST:

Hey! Better late than never! I actually have been editing this list since november, but I lost some of the things I said about the last games and it took me this long to remember what I had written. The risks I run because my mind flows better when I write with pen and paper. So, seeing how well the last list did on my memory, and because I got bored of talking to myself, I shall torture the unlucky ones who have found this post with both my video game taste and my rambles about them. I am so sorry in advance.

It's the same as before: they are ordered chronologically, from first played/finished to last, not ranked in how much I liked them. If I dont say a lot its not because I didn't like it, or that it was bad. At times I didn't want to give too much away. This time I tried to write each segment right after finishing them, or the following days, so that's why I talk way more or in more detail about each game and my own opinions. And who knows, maybe this will be a yearly thing. I like it, I'm Having fun. And hopefully some of these games get the love they deserve by whoever reads this.

So, once again, and now with more words:

1) Mothmen 1966

Mothmen being in the title was enough for me to give it a go, so it's good to say that the game is also good. It is divided by chapters, each one from the perspective of one of our three protagonists, showing the perspective of these vastly different people even if they are connected in some way. The game goes from a visual novel style to changing the gameplay to be interactive while also maintaining its format, something that I found entertaining. Its visuals are a treat, and I believe they enhance the horror presented in the story. All of the parts in this game work in its favor. I cannot believe I am actually saying this, but to get an achievement you need to take an L. I am not joking. It is part of a puzzle and me being good at it made me miss an achievement. No hard feelings, I had a good laugh about it as I was going back to the save file and doing it again. Sometimes, sucking is the way to go. I may have spent way too much time trying to win the Impossible Solitaire. But I will, one day, you'll see.

2) Roadwarden

You know a game is good when I play it for hours uninterrupted and is the main reason I turn on the computer.

Roadwarden is, as the title image says, an illustrated text based RPG, in which you take the role of a Roadwarden who is tasked to explore an unknown peninsula to expand a merchant's guild's influence, establish its safety, and find out what happened to the missing previous roadwarden.

Let me tell you, this game is amazing from both a mechanical and storytelling level. Mechanically because the game keeps track of so many things, it will remember even an answer you gave at the very beginning, and it'll become an integral part of your character. Even little thoughts as you are about to sleep will shape who you are playing as. On the story telling level, so many of the quests and towns are interlinked that holding back on finishing certain quests is the way to go, although in some cases having as many done as possible will no doubt help. The characters and towns are all unique and memorable, each with history that shapes them and how they interact with each other and you, the outsider. Both gameplay and story service each other to present an experience unlike any other, enhancing each other at every opportunity. The art and soundtrack set the perfect atmosphere for each moment. And the world building. Man, the world building, it's just. So well done, you actually believe this is a real place that existed before you arrived, and that it will continue to do so after you leave. It wasn't waiting for you, it did not kick into gear just because you showed up. It has its own issues, its own history, its own people, nature, culture, and you can feel that with each written word, each piece of information. I can't even explain properly just how good the world building is.

I just really fell in love with being a guy on the road taking care of these settlements' problems, getting to know their inhabitants and gaining their trust, all while falling in love with the game. There is one quest that I do not want to spoil, but the ending was so. Fitting, in a way, that I was surprised I didn't see it coming. Even as I saw the achievement name once I completed it, I looked back and just. I just smiled like damn, good job.

If you want to really take in this entire world and its people, I would personally recommend playing in Casual, since any other difficulty setting will put a limit to the days you'll be allowed to stay, and I must stress that this experience must not be rushed. Unless you dont mind a time challenge, in which case you do you. Also don't know about your memory, but I needed to take notes, and some highlights are: "Efren marry me", "We should have all stabbed Thais full Julius Caesar style", "Eudica and Efren my beloveds" and "Thyrsus is my Warlock Uncle". With that being said, the Journal mechanic is a god sent, and I can't be more grateful that it exists. Finally, a journal that doesn't get stuck in the first sentences of a quest from when you first got it.

Oh boy, those are a lot of words. Can you tell I really liked this game? I can't wait to see more from this developer.

EDIT: THE GAME HAS RECEIVED A HUGE UPDATE THAT I HAVE YET TO PLAY, BUT OH BOY IT'S MAKING ME WANT TO REPLAY THE ENTIRE GAME AGAIN.

3) Exhibit of Sorrows

A short game set in a clown exhibit, with a point - click and drag gameplay. I'll keep this one short, since this game can be played for free in both browser and for download in Itchio, and it is a neat little thing that you can beat as fast or as slow as you want. You interact with each exhibit, clicking and dragging the mouse depending on what you need to do, each with a little buddy that you need to help or have fun with to get the key, and proceed to the next screen. Its length and artstyle make for a fun and interesting experience, pacing itself beautifully. It is effective in every way. And come on, they are clowns, they are so cute and look like plushies. I love them all.

4) The Firebrand

A game about a detective interrogating a woman with different word prompts that he writes down in his notebook, all which branch into more questions and answers. You'll uncover the story and the truth of this conversation as you play along, finding out stuff about the woman, the detective, and even the world they live in. It is an interrogation against a clock that keeps on ticking, and luckily the developers give us the chance to check out a dialogue tree and how to get both the Normal and True Ending. With that in mind, the questions that don't lead to either of these are worth reading, as they serve to paint a bigger picture. And hey, you can also get the Bad Ending while you do it.

5) Royal Alchemist

Royal Alchemist is a visual novel in which you, the protagonist, are tasked with tutoring the three princes of a nation. You will fight for your life against the challenges this new position presents and also the stat checks you will have to pass at different points of the story, both of your character and the princes. Speaking of, each one of them represents a different route, with their recommended order (which I highly request following as stated by the creators: Aurelius, then Serin, and finally Nazir. Trust me, they were made to be experienced like this, you wont regret it). You will experience the constant back and forth, the battle of swords and wits with Aurelius, the emotional build up with Serin, and to describe the main appeal of Nazir's route before playing it would be a spoiler. The romance in this VN is some of the best I've experienced. I have never read about two characters holding hands in such an intimate way, it made the pure build up of a route worth every second. And the Princes aren't the only interesting characters, this visual novel is full of fun and complex characters, all with their own personalities and roles. From Raphael, the butler who might as well be the patron saint of patience, to Viola, the infamous head merchant. It has a mechanic of stat raising and, as stated before, there will be points in the story where you will need to reach a certain level of a skill to be able to pass. But don't worry, there is an official guide made by the developers which is a life saver, which not only has each stat requirement for each route, but also with neat additions like character profiles and more. The only criticism I'll give it is that some scenes are cut short when they could have been expanded on and it would have had a better effect, not only in terms of an emotional connection, but also to further enforce the bond between the player and the relationship developed in the route. But besides that small complaint, this visual novel is one I would gladly recommend.

6) Fear & Hunger

God, this game. This game hates you on a mechanical level. This game will put the fear of god in you every time you get further away from a save point, every time you think "yeah I can take this enemy no problem" and next thing you know you are eating dinner with your creator; every time you think "oh neat, a new area" and proceed to eat shit and die for the next hour because you just lost a fucking arm and a leg and can't outrun your enemies anymore. And you refuse to start another run because you are just that stubborn, and you will suffer through the consequences of your early game actions. No this is not my personal experience what are you talking about. It is a bleak and grotesque horror rpg game, made with RPG Maker. You will accompany whichever poor soul you choose as your playable character in their trip to the dungeon of Fear and Hunger, for whichever the reason their story presents. Should you play this game? Be mindful of the triggering content, first and foremost. This is a dark game, and it does not shy away from depicting it. From enemy designs, gameplay mechanics, to the way of worshiping gods, to specific game overs, and so on. Its hard and you will feel it unfair. This game will not hold your hand, and when you think it does it will put its teeth around your wrist and tear it off your body, its saliva infecting your wound with poison and leaving you to rot. I love this game.

7) Clash: Robot Detective

Fun fact: I never look into games that much before playing them, which in this case led to the asssumption that I was going to play a robot. So I named my character Flesh, because I thought a robot named Flesh was funny and also cool. Turns out, I ended up playing a human named Flesh. Which was somehow even funnier, and ended up becoming a pattern when I played the extras, which have a different protagonist, and I decided to commit to the bit and named them Blood. Flesh and Blood, my favourite human beings.

You play as the extremely new assistant to our titular detective Clash, who asks for your help in solving a mystery taking place in the cruise ship you are vacationing on. Depending on the different dialogue options, you can play as the good or the bad cop, and Clash will balance you out in this act, which leads to different and interesting outcomes.

I have to say, the artstyle drew me in. I am a sucker for these types of illustrations, and I'm glad that the writing and story were as good. I was invested not only in the case, but also on Clash as a character, who I will longingly stare at from a distance because I respect his boundaries and preferences.

Keep on going, you majestic robot detective, I can't wait to see what kind of trouble you get into in the future.

8) EXCUSE ME SIR (Demo)

Long awaited (at least for me) DEMO from Airdoft (creator of FAITH) and , and it all came about because of her videos and a single tweet.

The demo is short, but it shows the great potential of what a game like this could grow into, and I cant wait to see it become a finished project.

EDIT: Sadly, the game has been canceled, so we won't be able to see this concept grow into a finished game. Hopefully it'll inspire others with its style and presentation.

9) (Don't) Open Your Eyes

In this room, you know how everything looks. Does that include your midnight intruder?

This entire VN is a one sided conversation between you and something that may or may not be there, shaped in the darkness of your closed eyelids. Both of you are gripped by the same question, the intrigue eats away at you. Your imagination runs wild trying to give shape to this anomaly, and it is so desperate for you to find out.

There is only one way to do so:

Don't open your eyes.

10) Fortress

Man, short and effective is the way to describe this one. It has such a fantastic grip on atmosphere and tension that I admire. It truly captures the feeling of returning to a place where an impactful childhood memory took place.

Using the same location and making you play through it at different times of the story was done so well. I was ready for things to happen just because they did in the past, the first half of the game, and expected them to happen again.

In the past, I was ready to shoot on sight. As an adult, I couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger, not even to see if I could. I don't know why, months after playing it, this little thing has stuck with me the most.

11) The Shadows That Run Alongside Our Car

You leave the gas station with a stranger, either on the wheel or sitting next to you. The silence hangs heavy between you two, the road is empty, the sun is setting, and the end of the world is now. Time to break the silence, you get to choose who. In this visual novel you get to decide how this conversation at the end of the world unfolds, a game of perspective between our two characters, who may hide certain details about themselves or reveal them, if they give you the choice. After all, what would you gain by hiding a secret in this car ride? It could be your last.

12) Attack of the Murder Hornets

Hornets are evil, evil things of nature. They are coming for your bees.

They are coming for you.

BE READY

13) Baldur's Gate: Enhanced Edition (+ Siege of Dragon Spear)

There has to be a saying that goes: If you can't play the game everyone is talking about, go play every single game in it's series that came before it. Because that's what I did, even if I already wanted to play the Baldur's Gate games before the third one came around. But it was definitely a good push. The game's story has a much smaller scope than I expected, or maybe that's just how I feel now that I am currently playing the second game, but I think it works in its favor.

I think the reason I don't have much to say, besides the fact that I had lots of fun, is because my head is still processing Siege of Dragon Spear (with its much bigger scope) and what I am currently seeing in the second game. What all I'll say about that one now is man, what a way to start a sequel.

My suffering came mostly from the ruleset used (which I was unfamiliar with) and the fucking paralysis spell. Fuck it. ALL MY HOMIES HATE THE PARALYSIS SPELL.

In terms of characters, I didn't end up using most of the available NPCs in my party, even if I made the effort of recruiting them all, mostly because the ones I had I liked a lot. I liked Rasaad and I was pleasantly surprised he had a romance in the expansion AND the second game, which I am enjoying a lot. Jaheira and Khalid never left my party, same with Imoen who I kept treating like a sister because come on, the setup of being raised in the same city since birth and being childhood friends was perfect. I love Baeloth an unhealthy amount, he is so perfect in the expansion I made an effort to keep him in the party even if I had high reputation. In the expansion my party was insane looking. Like Oh yes, the Hero of Baldur's Gate, her monk companion Rasaad, Jaheira and... a gnome nobody knows why he is around, Baeloth the entertainer I guess, and a GOBLIN? At one point I did switch Jaheira for Viconia, only because Baeloth was one point of reputation away from leaving the party. I swear, the grip that man has on me. The story from Viconia's POV must be so funny: She gets recruited and instantly tells me she is fucking off, gets recruited again only because I dont want an idiot entertainer to leave; and then when she is about to be killed, who comes to her rescue? THIS DUMBASS. She must be like: GOD, DAMN IT, I CAN'T ESCAPE THIS BITCH. I am her surface curse.

My closing thought for this game is: Whoever made the TOSC maze... Who the fuck hurt you? Same goes for whoever made that final boss. WHY?!

[neuroticbookworm]

Another day, another Step by Step post I did not plan on writing but had to because my smart as fuck mutuals thunk some thoughts, and now my brain won't stop screaming unless I write some words.

Original post by @waitmyturtles here, where she levels criticism on the editing and writing on the show, and adds some excellent perspective on how some people can spend most of their time in work mode, and how that might leave less room to forge any intimacy with the people sharing the work with them.

My addition to this discussion could've very well been a comment, or even a reblog, but I HAD to make this a separate post because @wen-kexing-apologist decided that they wanted to add their INCREDIBLE, PASSIONATE, AND WELL ARUGUED piece defending the show's writing of Pat and Jeng, and their relationship, as a reblog, NOT A SEPERATE POST. I couldn't even like it because I had already liked the original post, why would you torture me like that!!

I will add a quick TLDR, begging you all on my hands and knees to read it, and then get to my point. In the post, @wen-kexing-apologist

Goes through the entire relationship timeline to justify that the reasons for Pat misreading Jeng as straight are realistic and understandable.

Makes a case for the actors' skills and how a very inexperienced but capable Ben and his performance as Pat might come off as a little duller compared to (an equally inexperienced but insanely talented) Man's incredible acting, and how it might contribute to us feeling the drag in narration.

Points out, with a beautiful metaphor, that the slowburn is ending, we're all exhausted because we're almost there, and when it ends, we're all gonna be engulfed in flames, along with Jeng and Pat (I worry for the mental health and wellbeing of all of us when that finally happens).

(that's right, @wen-kexing-apologist, I fully read the wall of text you thought no one would read, and I'm doing my very best to get other people to read it)

Now, @waitmyturtles, I love your addition that Pat has reasons to see all of their interactions as work, and how it is yet another reason for him to intentionally delude himself into thinking Jeng is unattainable. I understand your frustrations and why you would think the narration and editing do not and cannot sustain this slow burn anymore. I'm right there with you, and I think the show as a whole does suffer a little due to the pacing and the editing, but I digress.

My two cents: I have observed that sometimes, movies and TV shows choose to be intentionally frustrating to the audience, to add a feeling of immersion to their viewing experience. The best example of this I can think of right now is The Shawshank Redemption. The movie has a runtime of 2 hours and 22 minutes, which is considerably longer than a standard Hollywood feature, and most of it is spent with the characters inside the titular prison. (spoilers ahead if you haven't seen the movie. Also, howwww?!?!) When Andy finally crawls out of that shit tunnel, the audience collectively takes that deep breath of freedom with him, because they have spent the last 2+ hours of their lives trapped in that prison with him. They feel his euphoria, they can almost feel the rain on their faces because, with Andy, they have escaped the narration that had locked them up in that prison.

While Step by Step might not have executed this as intensely as TSR, I believe they are doing it to an extent, with the audience following the story primarily through Pat. Think of it this way: if we watched our best friend have a crush on a hot guy, find out he is his boss, hate the said hot guy because he is a strict micromanager, torture himself wondering if he is straight or gay, single or taken, and fight his desire for this man while he's also getting badgered by his manipulative ex, we would be understandably frustrated. Add to the fact that, unlike real life, we can actually see the crush reciprocated and the world-class pining Jeng does for Pat every single day. When we consider this angle, the fact that none of us has popped a vein in our heads yet is a miracle.

Another point that might factor into this is Pat's age. I'm not sure of the exact number, but I believe he's a college graduate starting his first job when the show begins. That would put him firmly in his early 20s. As a fellow 20-something-year-old, I strongly believe our twenties are when we are the worst, most emotionally inefficient versions of ourselves. I like to call it adulting with a teenage brain. There's a reason why actual adults can't stand us, it must be frustrating to watch a child in a fully grown body stumble their way through life, making mistakes that are so easy to avoid. Pat's relative immaturity is also contrasted with Jeng's age, introspection, and levelheadedness, and again, I believe it is by design. The writers want to drive us to the brink of our sanity, and so far, they are winning.

This post is not intended to win you over, @waitmyturtles. In fact, I'm firmly on your side, clawing my eyes out over this show. But I might have my teeniest, tiniest toe on the door, just enough to keep the sliver of the writers' intentions shining through.

[all-thestories-aretrue]

I am about 1 million years late to this but thank you for the tag @graphitekayla!!!

Rules: without naming them, post 10 gifs of your favorite shows, then tag 10 people. I'm definitely going to break this rule; you can't give me the opportunity to gush about my faves and not expect me to name them all!!

If anyone has followed me for any length of time none of this will be a shock lmao.

Shadowhunters, and more broadly speaking The Mortal Instruments. My first real fandom!!! I cannot overstate the impact the books and show had on my life. I wouldn't be who I am without it. I have an angelic rune tattoo. Magnus and Alec are some of the first queer characters I remember reading about. I remember where I was when they kissed for the first time in the show. You stupid nephilim lives rent free in my brain. This show (and the books) truly set up the trajectory my life is on now, and I will always always remember it fondly. Even with all the drama and discourse.

2. Critical Role, specifically C2. My first true obsession after the decade long Shadowhunters debacle. I stumbled into it to learn how to play D&D (which I now know is a controversy in and of itself lmao). But my friend @midnightellis wanted us to start a game, and I needed a way to learn that wasn't reading the books, so I started C2. It took 11 or 12 episodes, but then I fell in love. I spent the next almost year watching the entirety of C2 which culminated in visiting them to watch the finale together. I was extremely jetlagged. It was basically 8 amazing hours of nonstop crying. I have zero regrets. Except for the fact I still need to get the tattoo I had planned rip. One day!! I promise!!

3. Arcane!!!! A brief interlude between Shadowhunters and CR. There was about 4 months were I was OBSESSED and watched the entire show like 3 times back to back. I have many thoughts and feelings about Jayce. The show is also just so visually stunning. I cannot wait for S2 to drop in November!!!!!! I know nothing about League but I do really love this show.

4. House. Iconic. What else needs to be said? House is very much a comfort show for me; great to rewatch during the winter. I've watched the entire thing almost three times now, and even got my mom hooked lol. It was fun seeing all her reactions to everything before I moved.

5. If I had known what fandom was when this was airing, I truly would have been all over that shit. But I was 8 and didn't have access to the internet. Aang/Katara def my first otp lol. I did, however, ignore a friend that was over at my house to watch the finale, I believe. I definitely told them to go play so I could watch the show uninterrupted. Needless to say, they were not thrilled with that. I'm 90% sure it was the finale now, but I could be wrong about the episode. ATLA is also another comfort show that I could watch over and over again.

6. Shadow and Bone. I am still SICKENED this got canceled. Genya and David are the ultimate romance, and no one will convince me otherwise. I almost stopped reading when I found out his fate. I was devastated. Everyone in this show is also very pretty. I can't believe we won't get a s3.

I'm going to stop here because this is already long enough, and tbh I'm not sure I actually have four more shows. I can only be obsessed with one thing at a time, and the current obsession is Path of Night. And that does not seem to be waning any time soon.

Edit: Lost should 100% be on this list. I think I've watched it at least four times. My family and I watched it live as it was airing when I was a kid. And it still is one of my favorite shows. I know people got beef with the ending but I truly didn't mind it. Even if it's bad or whatever, I think Lost is still 100% worth watching. There are so many little hints and clues that I pick up something different every time, and each character death hits just as hard.

I'm going to tag: @gelatinouscute, @peppedstep, @midnightellis, @discordkittenterumi, @im-a-vampire-now, @zeena-athena , @syntia13treeman , @sapphicfugue , @dr-thumbs-brand-new-spot

If you want to do this :)

[spirit-of-a-kiger]

I thought of an Amazing Digital Circus sona/self-insert/OC thingy, whatever you’d call it.

WARNING: Long. Very long. Also kinda ramble-y and not that edited, though I tried to be organized.

She’s based on a maneki-neko, specifically the kind that’s mostly white but with a few small spots of calico here and there. Being based on a statue fits with her tendency to freeze when scared. I’m not sure if she should be made out of smooth porcelain or fur. She also has an adorable little bell collar which, like Pomni’s hat, is a part of her body and thus cannot be removed. She doesn’t have visible thumbs, but she can still grab stuff just fine, just like how if you watch Gangle’s character intro, she logically shouldn’t be able to hold the two halves of her broken mask. Her top right canine tooth is made of gold. I’m thinking of naming her Nikki, since it sounds like “neko” and “kitty”.

She’s generally very sweet, kind, and also a scaredy-cat, but her main flaw is her anger. When she’s wronged or thinks she’s been wronged, her eyes glow red, and razor-sharp, probably metal, claws come out, and she ruthlessly attacks whoever crossed her. Jax in particular is very well-acquainted with these claws. She has also tried scratching up Caine before, but he doesn’t feel a thing. In fact, these claws only come out during fits of blind fury. She has tried to figure out how to unsheathe them when she’s not angry since claws can be very useful, but so far, no luck.

When she first arrived at the circus, she spent all her free time lying around and moping. She never interacted with anyone, and if anyone tried to talk to her, the most acknowledgement they would get was her swiveling her ears in their direction. Later, she realized “Hey, this is basically a fantasy world, right? Maybe I should try to enjoy whatever I can.” So, she started doing things like acting a bit more catlike (in other words, embracing her new form), being friendly towards her fellow prisoners, and exploring Caine’s realm.

Due to having absolutely no sense of direction, she almost always gets lost when she goes exploring. The first time that happened, she got so scared that she started calling out for help, even knowing that Caine might be the one to come to her “rescue”. (He was. She'd never been so glad to see him in her life.) Since then, she’s learned that if Caine wants someone on stage, it never takes him long to find them, so when she gets lost, she just keeps exploring rather than panicking.

She doesn’t like how the bell on her collar always makes noise when she moves. She’s very sensitive to that sort of thing, so she usually holds it against her chest while walking. On the other hand, it does make for a very good fidget toy. Very often, she runs her fingers over it; she also sometimes flicks it or bats at it like a cat toy.

Over time, she starts attributing a borderline spiritual significance to the bell. She likes to think that it’s a vessel containing the last bits of her sanity. She doesn’t really believe this, per se, but it helps somehow. If, hypothetically, her collar were to be removed somehow, she would be devastated.

Due to having a fear of dolls, she was actually scared of Ragatha at first, freezing whenever she walked into the room. However, after seeing how kind she is, Nikki started to develop a crush on her instead. Ironically, she liked Jax upon first meeting him because “aww cute bunny!”, so that was a lesson in judging books by their covers. She awkwardly apologized to Ragatha, and now they’re good friends.

She has a massive sweet tooth. Sugar is one of the things she misses most from the real world, and she often talks about sweets and uses them in metaphors and such. I even thought of a quote where she’s describing the circus to Pomni: “It’s like, you find a field of cotton candy, and you eagerly dig in, but whoopsie-daisy, it's literally been poisoned! But then sometimes, you get a sip of hot cocoa, and it’s got just the right amount of marshmallows, and it’s at just the right temperature that it warms you on the inside but doesn’t burn your mouth, and you realize ‘Hey! This isn’t poison!’ *briefly glances over at Ragatha* You just gotta find your own mug of hot cocoa.”

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

What are some things you think about a lot, more than most other things you think

I'm thinking about this right now, and it seems like the answer is "whether or not I am a good person." It's hard to put into words how much that bothers me. There are some people who seem to feel very confident in their own moral bona fides. But I just don't see myself as one of those people. Even though I know there are plenty of things I do well (both in terms of being nice and friendly toward other humans and also just in terms of general life competence) . . . there is always something that looks bad when you look at yourself. And even if you try really hard to fix your flaws, they keep coming back; so you have this sense of having been through cycles of self-improvement and then regression, over and over again, for years on end. At least it feels that way to me, but maybe others experience this less acutely? [EDIT: actually, after writing all this, I think there may be more than two options here -- either people genuinely feel good about themselves, which means they never notice all these flaws, or else they mostly notice them, but can somehow find ways to cope with them without getting too depressed.]

This sounds pathetic and whiny, but it's really true! Some of my friends have told me that I often come off as arrogant or conceited because I tend to talk about what I believe in strongly, and that makes it sound like I don't care what anyone else thinks. And while that's probably true, I feel terrible when people tell me this. Especially since my strongest opinions aren't on subjects where there's any real controversy anyway. They're usually about stuff no one cares about, or issues everyone agrees upon, or a weird mix of both. So it seems like my only excuse would be that I'm an idiot who doesn't realize he has nothing interesting to say, except that I do get some positive feedback from time to time, so I guess I must really be that big an idiot. Or I could try to become someone whose beliefs line up perfectly with the prevailing wisdom, thereby becoming uninterestingly conventional. Which would be bad enough, but worse still would be to have a reputation as a screwup among people who think conventionally. Not sure why I haven't done anything like that yet. Maybe I've tried, and failed, because I simply cannot stop talking about myself. That was probably what made college so torturous -- I spent most of my social interactions trying to figure out whether I had said something stupid or insulting, or if it was just that my conversational partners were awkward/unwilling to make conversation. I didn't want to ask them directly whether they disliked me or thought I was dumb, because I wanted to maintain plausible deniability. In hindsight, I wish I had asked straight out whether I seemed annoying or anything. Then again, I wouldn't trust anyone's answers to such questions, given the times I misread intentions and ended up saying something wrong.

Anyway, I should clarify that this isn't really a complaint post. Just an observation about a pattern that runs throughout my life. My natural state is to feel like a loser, and every once in a while this feeling becomes intense enough to cause pain and grief, but basically this is normalcy for me, in the same way that walking

[hiccanna-tidbits]

Jackunzel Month Week 2 - Songs Sweater Weather - The Neighborhood

***

And all I am is a man I want the world in my hands I hate the beach but I stand In California with my toes in the sand

Use the sleeves of my sweater Let’s have an adventure Head in the clouds but my gravity’s centered Touch my neck and I’ll touch yours You in those little high-waisted shorts, oh

Oh, she knows what I think about And what I think about One love, two mouths One love, one house No shirt, no blouse Just us, you find out Nothing that I wouldn’t wanna tell you about, no

‘Cause it's too cold For you here And now, so let me hold Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

And if I may just take your breath away I don’t mind if there’s not much to say Sometimes the silence guides a mind To move to a place so far away

The goosebumps start to raise The minute that my left hand meets your waist And then I watch your face Put my finger on your tongue ‘cause you love the taste, yeah

These hearts adore Everyone the other beats hardest for Inside this place is warm Outside it starts to pour

Coming down One love, two mouths One love, one house No shirt, no blouse Just us, you find out Nothing that I wouldn't wanna tell you about, no, no, no ‘Cause it’s too cold For you here And now, so let me hold Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

‘Cause it’s too cold For you here And now, so let me hold Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

‘Cause it’s too cold For you here And now, so let me hold Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

It’s too cold For you here And now, let me hold Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

And it’s too cold, it’s too cold The hands of my sweater

***

So y’all, it has been years since this song came out and it is still the Jackunzel song. Like I have seen people try to apply it to some of my other ships and every time there’s this voice in my head that’s like “No!!! Bad!!! That’s the Jackunzel song!!!” Bless, I could literally not associate it with another ship if I tried XD

I MEAN

“Use the sleeves of my sweater Let’s have an adventure Head in the clouds but my gravity’s centered” IF THAT AIN’T THEM

Also “ I hate the beach but I stand in California with my toes in the sand” has the vibe of Jack kind of aimlessly wandering around as a spirit and searching for anyone who can see him, even if he has to spend time in places he doesn’t actually like that much ;_____;

And, of course, just the general vibe of Jack and Punz being excited and eager to physically touch each other because Jack has spent so damn long being an incorporeal ghost to most of the world, and now finally--finally--someone can actually touch him and hold him and remind him that he’s a real physical being who can in fact receive cuddles ;_____; hELP, I’m getting emotional just thinking about it--

LIKE HIM HUGGING AND CUDDLING ONE OF THE FIRST PEOPLE IN DECADES WHO CAN SEE HIM AND BEING LIKE “She was worth the wait” AKSJAHNOSYVBFSUY

Anyways, I’m sure I’m not the first person who’s made Jackunzel Sweater Weather content, but...this thing made itself, and I did not consent XD Like it just happened!!! I couldn’t help it!!! I cannot be blamed for my lack of originality here!!! XD Actually am very, very pleased with how the moodboard came out, and fully believe there can always be more Jackunzel Sweater Weather material. Like there is no limit. Every Jackunzel shipper on earth could make a moodboard or a fic or an edit or what have you based on the song and I’d devour every single one like a quality birthday cake.

As always, moodboard pic credits available upon request!

[fairy-grotto]

I hope you don’t mind me posting my thoughts, I’ve just been thinking *a lot*.

I think the reason P and Carlo not being the same person is such a popular read is because it just makes a lot sense, at least it does to me anyway.

If we look at Ergo like the soul or conscience of a person and that P is carrying Carlo’s (underdeveloped? edited? fragmented? Modified? idk) Ergo within him while Geppetto bides his time that’s totally plausible and I would argue is almost exactly what Neowiz are trying to tell us but you can’t deny that Carlo’s physical body is dead.

In terms of person, they only share the same ergo but even that in itself has been implied (?? I’m at work and cannot check my sources, sorry) isn’t complete, P wakes up not knowing who or where he is and missing key parts of Carlo’s personality (which you could say is all of it cause he’s pretty blank at the start of the game), all of this to say that P forming a personality overtime is noticeable enough that Geppetto comments on it when you refuse to give up your heart.

But I don’t think Geppetto is a reliable enough narrator to believe that anything he’s saying is true, we have no idea if the kind of behaviour P can exhibit in that scene or any of the scenes with Geppetto beforehand are actually in line with who Carlo was because we don’t know all that much about him and we only get any information about them from Geppetto who can’t be trusted and Romeo who did know Carlo incredibly well but doesn’t give us enough concrete evidence to really draw a proper conclusion.

My guess is that Geppetto gets shitty with your refusal and blames it on “Carlo’s personality” because in his efforts to control his own narrative he pushed his kid away and couldn’t handle the guilt or take accountability for causing the rift between the two of them. So when he sees that it’s happening with P, instead of assessing the situation and actually admitting that he’s the one at fault he pushes the blame back on the person who can’t defend themselves because Geppetto, at his core, is a deeply troubled individual.

P can’t go back to being Carlo, not in body and not really in soul either because reacting poorly to being asked to literally die after all the danger you’ve put yourself in for that very person is a logical outcome, we can’t be entirely certain that it has anything to do with what’s left of Carlo’s presence in P’s ergo.

The real boy ending is Geppetto’s idealised version of Carlo so it’s not exactly indicative of what he was like when he was alive and among the other two endings I would argue that we just get a look at who P is depending on how human-like or puppet-like (high or low humanity) you played.

I am happy to hear otherwise and concede my points, and they might change if the DLC goes further into detail about Carlo and all of the stuff I’ve mentioned but this is just my current take away from what I know and what I’ve spent a (frankly ridiculous) amount of time trying to analyse, it’s just the read that makes the most sense to me based on the story being presented.

TL;DR: Geppetto is shown time and time again to be an incredibly unreliable narrator/guide and I take literally everything that comes out of his mouth with a massive grain of salt, especially any information he provides about Carlo - Geppetto cannot admit to his mistakes so he is doomed to repeat them blah blah blah.

interesting to see that P and Carlo being different people is such a popular reading. I genuinely did not take the game's narrative as implying that at all. this isn't to discount that reading, i do understand it and i think it does offer some interesting aspects. but im more just typing out my own thoughts on the game's story; a story which i do think is very good

(spoilers ahead for the game lol)

one of the biggest things for me that lead to P and Carlo being the same is Geppetto and Romeo, the only two people who really know what your whole deal is

I spent a lot of the game very much expecting it to be a sort of... astro boy situation? as in: dad loses human son, dad builds another son, but said son is not what he wanted. In that story, it IS because the new son does not end up being like the former son

Most of the game from what I remember does lead to this narrative. However, I feel a key element here that makes it stand out is the fact that Geppetto did NOT like who Carlo was becoming. They were distant, they did not get along, etc. Geppetto sneers when you refuse to give him your heart- commenting that you're inheriting Carlo's personality instead of just holding his memories. HE is thinking of you two as different people and becomes upset when he sees stuff he didn't like about Carlo, which ultimately became part of why he is, to put it bluntly, fucked up and evil. he's wrought with guilt but has a very twisted idea of what his perfect son should be like- and it is someone NOT like Carlo, no matter how many times he insists Carlo is coming back to him- his true desire is clearly to have someone who Carlo was never like

This is paired well with Romeo's whole deal. I think it's very interesting that you really start to awaken and become more human once you start remembering stuff from the past- triggered by Romeo's presence in Carlo's life. You CAN read this as just carrying Carlo's memories, yes. But I think, for me, that because it literally affects P in such a way, that it reads more as someone remembering something of their own past. Along with the fact that, once again, Geppetto is the one who insists you are merely just carrying Carlo's memories. Why does it deeply change P then?

I've mentioned somewhere before, but a big concept that I took from the story was "you are not the same person you were years ago". not in a literal sense, but in the way we often describe how we grow as people. The game, to me, portrays this concept in a very Dramatic way. Carlo has changed quite a lot, but it is still his life he experienced. He has a different name, he developed a personality that his father ended up detesting, etc. But that is still the same... we'll say soul I guess. Same life. And it adds to why Romeo is such an interesting (and tragic) character. He DID accept how his friend changed and still wants to remain by his side. I think that genuinely makes his fight sadder for me- the idea that this really IS Carlo, that IS his friend and not someone else he's mistaken Carlo for, but Carlo/P does not remember him anymore before it is far too late.

[nek0mars]

A Review of The Ssum (from the perspective of an MM fan)

Ok, so the first thing I would like to say is:

Please be considerate toward Ssum; it’s an entirely different game from MM, and despite there being similarities, SSum is NOT Mystic!! (but you all know that, surely ^^)

However, I will be comparing things in my rant...because I am one of those Mystic Messenger Fans ;-;

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

(Also I see some of you all asking Cheritz for more MM content...I get it, I want some more too but...we all have heard that Cheritz has (supposedly) said that updates for content will be sparse or MUCH less frequent

edit:

(however I have heard from someone that they said after Ray's AE, they were planning on stopping updating in general other than new start screen CGs, BUT YOU NEVER KNOW, I'M PATIENTLY WAITING FOR A VANDY ROUTE IDC)

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

So first things first: Teo.

I’ve already seen people say this, but he’s sort of...bland? In fact, he actually seems like a mild mixture of Zen, 707, and Yoosung. He’s an aspiring film director who likes to game in his spare time, and is helping test developing AIs. After growing up with Mystic, it’s strange to see such a normal character!

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

Second!

The typing speed is extremely slow, and you can’t speed it up.

The only way to speed it up (from what I’ve seen) is to pay $9.99 for fast typing speed. That’s...a lot more than Max Speed in MM.

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

Third!

Here’s some comments I found in Ssum already, lol:

"mystic messenger >>>>>"

"give me 200 days of content of jumin han instead"

"i am confused lol"

"i really miss yoosung"

"i don't understand this HEEELLLLPPP"

"this game is so confusing lol"

Aside from the MM comments, I see a LOT of people being super baffled about the interface of Ssum. There are a ton of features that MM never had, and for former and present MM fans, it’s very new and confusing.

There’s also the fact that the purchases aren’t made to be a one time purchase. In fact, the packages are SUBSCRIPTIONS. Meaning you have to pay MONTHLY. Some people just cannot afford a subscription (myself included).

This, along with the fact that everything seems overpriced, is making MM fans a bit irritated that they can’t fully enjoy this new game without having to spend money.

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

Fourth!

Here’s some of my personal opinions on the game!

The interface is really nice! It’s smooth, it’s clean, it’s modern and new :)

The voice acting is really cute and high quality, and I appreciate that.

However, the way that Teo talks with you in the chatrooms and over the phone is a bit strange. It’s a bit sudden, and feels sort of rushed.

I mean, it’s only two chats in and he’s talking about how he feels flushed talking to you!

I also understand the idea of talking to only one person to get to know them, but it is honestly strange to not have a wider option of characters. (Is Cheritz planning on adding more characters? I genuinely do not know)

Also, a little detail, but you can’t pause the phone calls. I understand that you’re simulating a real phone call but what if I’m busy? ;-;

For MM fans, it's definitely not going to overtake Mystic.

It doesn’t have the same “charm”, and I feel like MM fans are just going to hold onto Ssum simply because it’s a Cheritz game.

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

We do need to keep in mind that Cheritz has spent 4 years creating this game. That’s very commendable (...despite the fact they kept telling people they’d release it, ...only to push it back another few months)

Still, I do know mystic fans want Mystic content to continue rather than have to deal with an entirely new and different game.

MM attachment shouldn’t be carried over as irritation for Ssum. BUT, that irritation is understandable considering MM is what we’ve lived off from Cheritz for a solid 6 years.

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

My closing thought is that I genuinely believe that people who have never played Mystic will enjoy Ssum! Having a clear slate and not having gotten attached to the former game will definitely allow for hardcore Ssum fans to crop up.

Unfortunately, I know that I’ll always be a die-hard MM fan.

Thanks for reading!!

[slytherinsnekxvii]

let's talk about lily evans and the marauders, aka moony, wormtail, padfoot and prongs. given that i didn't use their actual names, i think you can figure out where this is going. it's also long as hell, so. canon vs fanon, marauder edition, except snek is sleep deprived.

now, before we begin, i don't dislike the marauders. or lily, tbh. if I'm being perfectly, genuinely honest, i still go back and forth sometimes but they've been growing on me for a while now. the canon versions, at least. fanon does them real dirty, and that's part of why i'm writing this, because i'm genuinely tired of it. it's an injustice.

you can at least make excuses for james and lily, who were so undeveloped that jkr practically dropped a fill-in-the-blank sheet of character information in our laps, but sirius, remus and peter were around long enough for y'all to get real acquainted with them.

in canon, sirius black is an unhinged mf. genuinely. this isn't to say he's a bad guy, in fact, we see that he's still capable of doing good things, still capable of love, still capable of all the things that prove he's actually not bad at heart, just,,, severely traumatised and very steeped in negativity from his time with the dementors. what i'm saying is that this man is absolutely, no questions asked, no holds barred demented, and how could he not be? the guy sat wrongfully imprisoned in azkaban for twelve years, a good portion of which he spent as a dog in order to protect himself from the dementors. he certainly wasn't completely insane, but you cannot tell me that he was all there. he got out of azkaban fuelled almost solely by the intent to get revenge on pettigrew, tried to commit murder in front of three witnesses who were also children—one of whom was his godson—ate rats and was also malnourished, which i'm certain did not help the situation any. this man is off his goddamn rocker, and you know what? you love to see it. good for him.

oh, but, snek, that's what he's like as an adult. what about when they were at school? before azkaban? my guy, the reaction he has to grimmauld place is not the reaction of someone without trauma. i don't believe that walburga and orion were the type to physically abuse their children, but whatever happened in that house helped to fuck him up enough that he skipped the joke of part of practical joke, and pranked snape by telling him how to meet a werewolf that he knew would be fully transformed and dangerous to humans. more than that, the werewolf was remus, whom he's friends with, and who—best case scenario—would be facing a trial if james hadn't stepped in. you can say that maybe he didn't think about or understand the gravitas of his actions, but at the end of it, that's not how properly sane people react to people they dislike, and that's not how they treat their friends. if anything, it reads like he was in the middle of a breakdown and absolutely losing his shit and he wasn't thinking at all.

my guy went through some serious shit, and was in no way completely mentally stable. we can see pretty clearly that he's got a serious dark side to him that probably would have gone unbridled had he not disagreed with his family, and yet, fanon took one look at him and went, "teehee, uwu bad boi go vroom."

fanon said padfoot is a pretty boy with nice hair who is tastefully traumatised from his horribly abusive household. sirius rides his motorcycle and plays jokes and flirts with anything that moves, but he can do no real wrong and always comes back to his soft, bookish, chocolate-loving boyfriend remus, who will laugh about his lycanthropy and quietly disapprove but secretly laugh at his friends' antics while hiding his smile in his cardigan.

respectfully, what in the absolute fuck.

i'd put that meme in here if i could, the one that's like, "well done, you've broken _______ down to its bare essentials," but no. i can't bc it doesn't even apply. this isn't a meme, it's theseus' fucking ship.

fanon broke it down, and replaced the pieces one by one until we got to this point, where we need to sit down and ask ourselves, "is this even the same character?"

the answer is no, by the way. it isn't. when people talk about woobifying characters—you know, taking away every flaw they have, romanticising everything they do and making them only capable of doing good, wonderful, lovely things?—this is what we mean.

and it'd be one thing if it was just the one character, but, no. fanon went all in and made them all squeaky clean and boring, especially peter, who draws the shortest of the straws.

remus got fucked, too. not just because fanon insists on sticking him into a relationship with sirius. which, we'll tackle wolfstar in a bit, but that's not even the worst of it. here, we have yet another example of blatant, rampant woobifying. again, is he a bad person? no. we know he's a good guy, we know he's generally kind and well-mannered, we know that he wants to fo the right thing but hey, fun fact. did you know that you can be nice and a coward? did you know that you can be benevolent and good and kindly and have the greatest of intentions and still be shady as fuck? no? ask dumbledore. the man played people like chess pieces when he needed to, and he was a twinkly grandpa. these are things that can coexist.

teenage remus is a coward who, understandably, does not stand up to his friends, likely for fear of being ostracised, and doesn't uphold his prefect duties as he should and takes part in their bullying of snape as a result. he lets them romp with him in werewolf form while they are in their animagus forms and then, he lets them continue to do so even after they have multiple close calls, which, again, had anything happened, would have resulted in a trial in the best case scenario.

grownup remus is still a coward, he tells no one that sirius can move about the school in his animagus form despite wholeheartedly believing that he's a mass murderer, he tries to run out on his wife and unborn kid. he isn't deliberately making attempts to harm anyone, but he's content to sit back and let things happen to him and around him so he doesn't rock the boat, although he is capable of action, which we see when he is more than willing to help sirius merk pettigrew in the shack. he can be careless, he runs out to the shack knowing he hasn't taken his wolfsbane and ends up transforming in front of the students he, as a teacher, is meant to be protecting. of course, this doesn't negate his good qualities, it just bears repeating that his flaws do exist, and they're pretty serious.

fanon moony is always pleasant and kind and soft-spoken and bookish, and he always has to have his chocolate. he knows when to tell off his friends, and he'll do it, even if he's secretly amused by everything they do and laughs about it with his best friend, lily evans, who coincidentally spends all her time with them so he and sirius can go on double dates with james and lily and no one has to remember peter exists.

why. theseus' ship 2.0. does the actual character still exist or is this something entirely different thing bearing the same name?

as for peter, who needs peter pettigrew, the actual, legitimate, fourth marauder when you have lily evans? canon pettigrew is opportunistic as fuck. he's latching himself to the biggest bad on the block and he's going all in. for teenage peter, that was james and sirius, and for adult peter, that's voldemort. canon peter is good enough at transfiguration to master the animagus transformation, just like his friends, and he's good enough at potions to brew the potion that gives voldemort a body. and honestly, you can't say he wasn't brave. he could've run off somewhere and died, or changed his identity or something after he faked his death and framed sirius, but, no. he goes and resurrects voldemort. that's fucked up, yeah, but it happened and honestly, i respect that it. he stuck to his guns.

fanon wormtail is lucky if he exists beyond being a spineless sycophant for james and sirius, or an evil conniving little rat who's looking to toss his entire friend group to the wolves at eleven.

of course, this isn't meant to negate his bad qualities, he still murdered people and framed sirius and sold out the potters to die, but his good characteristics do exist, and james, sirius and remus genuinely were his friends.

and now, we get to lily and james.

we have hardly any information on either of them. they're a pair of cardboard cutouts that we can paint and stick flyers to and colour outside the lines however we want. we can do whatever the fuck, as long lily is brave and smart and somewhat kind and james is brave and willing to die for his family. we were essentially handed a pair of ocs.

and yet.

what little bits of canon we have are thrown out of the window regardless.

james is privileged and rich, and he throws hexes for fun. he's willing to hex lily when she disagrees with him, and then, he goes behind her back to continue hexing snape after she believes that he's stopped doing so. and that's all we know about him until he dies for his family at twenty-one years old. once again, say it with me: this does not negate his good qualities. he definitely had them, he took sirius in when sirius ran away from home, he became an animagus to keep remus company as a wolf, and he saved snape in the shack, thereby saving remus and sirius by extension. him having flaws does not make him a bad person.

fanon prongs is a feminist. he fights for equal rights for women everywhere, and he constantly treats his girlfriend, lily, like an absolute queen. he's the hottest boy in school and everyone claps when he walks through the halls. mcgonagall and dumbledore are always patting him on the back and making jokes with him. he has a built-in dark detector that helps him sense when someone is a evil and needs to he punished.

give me a break. the dude's cool and all, but was the gary stu treatment necessary?

...oh, he needed to match fanon lily? right, right.

canon lily is a contradiction unto herself. she's supposedly a great friend, but since we see her at a point where they were already drifting apart, we see her putting little effort into keeping their friendship afloat. she victim blames based on rumours, she doesn't seem to care over much about what snape has to say about the people who have been tormenting him since day one. and she's justified, of course, she doesn't have to stick around. canon lily is a bit of hypocrite, she says that snape calls everyone of her birth mudblood, but then that begs the question why she still hangs around with him if that's the case. he calls her mudblood, she retaliates by calling him snivellus, and finishes up with a dig about his underwear, which, sure, it's kicking a man with a rusty spoon and pouring salt in the wound, but she's, again, justified. i get where she was coming from. and then, of course, she dies for her kid after marrying the guy who relentlessly bullied her quote-unquote best friend for their entire school careers. but, like i said, canon lily is, in many ways, a contradiction.

lily is basically a plot device. she pushes everyone's narrative but her own, and does little else.

of course, this trend would continue in fanon. fanon lily exists to be the perfect girl who gets really angry over the slightest injustice, and of course, she gets to be one half of one of the oldest enemies-to-lovers "it was just sexual tension" cliche pairings in the book. she's just,,, a mary sue. in so many fics, so many headcanons, she's just pettigrew's stand-in, a girl to form a gang with marlene, mary and dorcas—who happen to be more undeveloped ocs who also get the woobify mary sue treatment—to parallel the marauders. there is nothing compelling about her character when she's presented as a saint, and even less when she's supposedly the other moral compass for the marauders that doesn't actually work because she thinks that james is cute.

and this brings me to the next topic. jily. what, why, how. this was supposed to be a healthy, happy relationship that would have lasted in the long run? absolutely not. even for its time, i can't say that i see it lasting.

first of all, jkr presents james' crush on lily as just that: a crush. a mildly obsessive one, but a crush nonetheless, which she tries to liken to the pulling of pigtails. and then, we see that james' way of getting her to go out with him consists of blackmail, and when that doesn't work, he resorts to threatening her. this could have been set aside if he had actually, genuinely changed when they started spending more time together, but as we're told by sirius and remus, he didn't. he just got better at hiding what he was up to. and it has to be that he hid it, because if she knew, this further damages the character that she's set up to have and paints her out to be either unable to stand up to him or an enabler.

regardless, they get married. and while i have trouble believing that it was out of genuine love, there are scenarios that could make some semblance of sense. it's wartime, after all, and maybe lily is worried about her stability in the wizarding world, so why not marry into an established family whose son is already showing interest? or perhaps, she falls into the trap of every bad boy cliche ever, and she thinks to herself, well, i got him to be better then, maybe i can get him to do even better in the future. or maybe, she doesn't get into a relationship with him immediately and sees him on and off, until eventually, she accidentally gets pregnant and they scramble to have a shotgun wedding so as not to leave lily alone at nineteen with a baby. or maybe they marry each other because they're there and sure, neither of then is ready and they don't know what love even is but what else is there to do when there's a dark lord about? anyways, the point is, they get married.

and then what? if we count pottermore into canon, he goes on to further damage her relationship with petunia and vernon, to the point where she ends up crying. if we don't, she fades into the background enough that nobody has anything to say about her. she's harry's mum, she's james' wife, lily potter, she was kind and smart and brave and that's it. her agency is gone, anything else we have of her personality is gone.

jily just,,, wasn't built to last. and, yeah, this,,, this is a hill i'll die on.

same with wolfstar, honestly. there are so many reasons why it wouldn't work, but fanon has made it so fucking prevalent that it's literally everywhere no matter where you look.

first of all, i've said it before and i'll say it again. sirius is more likely to get with james that he is to ever end up in a relationship with remus. their chemistry is just,,, underdeveloped. net zero for a relationship.

secondly, sirius instigated the werewolf prank, and lupin would have paid the price for it. this could have been overlooked, but he doesn't seem the slightest bit guilty about any of it when it's brought up in poa. he could have been responsible for lupin losing the security of his place at hogwarts in the best case scenario, and in the worst case, his life. and he seems to look forward to full moons, even though they clearly aren't pleasant for remus, which,,, yeah, you're going to have fun, but like, maybe be concerned about the fact that your friend undergoes excruciating pain and it isn't a pleasant time for him? read the room, my g.

thirdly, they don't trust each other as much as fanon seems to think they do. they were both willing to believe each other the traitor before ever suspecting pettigrew. sirius thought remus gave away the potters, hell, he thought remus was a spy for voldemort, and remus was convinced that sirius was a mass murderer. neither of them needed to be convinced.

fourthly, maybe i'm reading too much into it, but like. sirius had money. remus had no money, since, yk, he was a werewolf and struggling for cash and still, sirius,,, did not leave him any money. i feel like if you had money to spare, you would give to your friend who is literally poor. but, again, maybe i'm reading too much into it and this isn't as valid a point as i think it is.

and ehh, the fifth reason is that it's,,, actually very much not the representation for the ltgbt community that fanon says it is but y'all aren't ready for that conversation.

anyways, just,,, even when you set the couple shit aside, the power dynamics between everyone here is fucked. like, james and sirius are clearly at the top of food chain calling the shots and egging each other on. then there's lily, who isn't even a marauder, but is always ever-so-slightly above remus but still not on their level, because, well. neither of them actually listen to her. remus is the novelty friend, the friend who's,,, alright, i guess, but you keep them around specifically because they're funny or they can dance or they have something that you can either show off to other people or keep as your little inside joke, your little secret, yk? and peter is just sort of there. like, yeah, he can do what we can but does that make him as good as we are? no. does he have a funny little something about him that we can exploit? nah. therefore he sits at the bottom. and like, yeah, james and sirius are on the same level, but james is yanking sirius' chain, not the other way around. anyways, like i said. power dynamic's fucked and it bothers me that we were given all of this, and fanon decided to take it all and throw it away so they could give us flamboyant!badboi!sirius black x softboi!motherhen!remus lupin going on double dates with feminist!trustfundbaby!james potter and saint!lily evans while ignoring peter pettiwho?

theseus' fucking ship, indeed.

anyways, this needed to be said. it might not make as much sense as i want it to, considering it's 4:12 in the morning as i'm posting this, after taking a break from writing to do some research and coming across way too much content about fanon marauders, but it's here and it still makes enough sense that you can read it and understand what i mean. and like, at the end of the day, you can go ahead and headcanon whatever you please, you can write fic and make art and do whatever you like, just,,, remember that they're exactly that. headcanons. stop presenting fanon as canon. please. i'm literally begging. we actually have evidence against it. just,,, acknowledge that they're headcanons and stop putting them forward as though they're able to fit into canon. please.

[sonianvmd]

thh characters with a crush on you

warnings: none, maybe some swearing but otherwise nothing major

oH and mentions of murder and death but this is danganronpa so im going to assume u expected as much

a/n: so we kickin this blog off with a bang, writing for LITERALLY THE ENTIRE TRIGGER HAPPY HAVOC CAST LMFAOAOAOAO (excluding hifumi, yasuhiro, and the two despairs doe bc i’ve already made that clear)

also some character’s sections are shorter than others im sorry i just couldnt think of as many bullet points for them *tiktok cry emoji*

edit: I FORGOT CELSESTE FU K SORRY

spoilers under the cut!!

★ 彡 ★ ミ ★ 彡 ★ ミ ★

makoto naegi

when he realizes he likes you, he doesn’t necessarily panic or anything, but he does get nervous

nervous around you, that is

y’all saw how he was with sayaka

if he says anything that might sound intimate then he’ll immediately rephrase it or reassure he didn’t mean anything by it

he really only does have good intentions but his wording just kinda flops sometimes

he appreciates how you listen to him and value what he says

you don't make him feel dumb or inferior compared to a bunch of ultimates with actual talents

he’ll muster up the courage to tell you eventually

let’s hope his luck comes through 😁

byakuya togami

now when THIS man realizes he likes you, he a bitch nigga bout it 😐

he can't believe he fell for a common plebeian such as you

but it was hard not to

the way you preferred to get to the point

the way you were aware of your situation and didn't sugarcoat how you felt about it, although you certainly were nicer with it than him

he's ruthless

anyways

you knew your priorities and spent no time trying to use your resources

he noticed how much you had in common; in you, he saw himself

and we all know how this mf feels about himself 😐

he’ll be quick to defend you in class trials

he won’t realize he’s doing it but he just subconsciously protects you

but just because he doesn't notice it, don't mean the rest of the class brushes past it as well

yeah they on his ass LMFAOO

kyoko kirigiri

kyoko is very good at keeping her composure so she won’t be very obvious

she’ll probably just hang around you more

she’ll also defend you in class trials, calmly

“oh, it couldn’t have been [name]. i remember seeing them in their dorm around the time the murder took place.”

hifumi probably finna say some dumb shit like “aye what was you doin in their dorm doe” but anyways

she finds you respectable

if you have anything to contribute, she’ll let you take the floor

when she tells you, she’s very composed, but also very indirect LMFAO

she’s not too sure on how to express her interest in you but maybe she’ll go about it like “well, [name], now we’ve made it here, would you like to step back into the world with me?” or somethin else along those lines idk

take her hand

pls

toko fukawa

y’all know her whole “master togami” shtick

yeah so 😁😁😁😁

no but fr, toko ofc still has her borderline stalkerish 🧍🏾‍♀️ tendencies

she’ll often find herself staring at you, either in the library or in the morning meetings everyday at breakfast

but she isn’t as straight forward as she is with byakuya

i actually think she’d be mad shy and non confrontational

the whole thing she kept up with him ? yeah, never again

if you approach her first then she’ll be able to get a few words out but for most of the conversation, she’ll just nervously play with her braids

you’ll most likely put two and two together

unless ur a makoto kinnie bc then you’ll have to wait till someone else puts it in place for u but anyways

if you decide to approach her about it, you’ll kinda be backing her into a corner bc she’s just bad at deflecting things lmao

she’ll eventually confess (begrudgingly but hey i mean its better than nothing)

expect much stuttering and a gesture like giving you a small gift

and not to be that writer that uses japanese terms in english writing but toko seems like a tsundere but not really if that makes sense?? so she’d probably shove it in your hands and if you try to say something then she’ll just try to play it off as not a big deal lol

calls u a baka 😍😍

aoi asahina

i know y’all all see how she is with sakura

yeah.

aoi is the kind of person who’d like to spend time with their crush rather than shy away from them

she values you and your friendship very much

bring her donuts

just trust me bring her donuts

she doesn’t really realize she’s into you like that for a while but believe me, she is, the whole time

and yeah i think she’d be nervous to tell you bc that’s just natural but ultimately she’d be cool about it

uh oh looks like we goin for a swim

sakura ogami

similar to kyoko, she’s very calm

despite her big and bad appearance, she really is a sweet girl

she cares for you and your well-being very much

will indeed go on x games mode for you

the way she tells you is very sincere and well spoken

kith her

naow

im sorry this is like the shortest one i couldn’t think of much for her 😔😔

leon kuwata

flirtatious ass mf

and he’s lightskin

so this just cannot go well

y’all know that bit where it’s like the guy yawns and stretches his arms up and then wraps one around your shoulder

yeah that’s literally him LMFAOO

he’s very confident

he was fairly well known with the ladies at his old school so you know he’s rhockin wit it ‼️

but

you feel.. different than usual ??

those girls were just lil flings n dates bc he was nice enough to accept their confessions and it boosted his ego anyway so it was a win win

but you

he was genuinely interested in you since he had saw you the first time

he didn’t just acknowledge your appearance

he learnt about your personality and your hobbies and what you liked and such, and he really cared and wanted to hear you talk about it all

he felt the need to really make an effort to show you how much he respected and had affections for you

he doesn't tell you in a grand way

probably just asks you out to a movie or somethin

he's chillin

mondo owada

you know

for being the biggest, baddest, most respected biker gang leader

or just for being in a biker gang period

mondo’s a huge softie lol

yeah he gets violent but he’s a sweet guy who cares about and is loyal to his friends

so mfs need to be nice to you

or they gettin whooped

when he decides it’s time to tell you how he feels, he thinks over his words and he’s all confident there’s no way you’d reject him but then he sees you in the halls and goes 🧍🏾 LMFAOOO

he’ll push through but it’s like he’ll walk up to you and look away from you because he refuses eye contact and just go

“so y/n, would you wanna.. tch.. come to a drive-in movie with me or somethin’?... dumbass.”

real smooth mondo i think you got em good job

please tease him LMFAOO it’d be so funny

he’d probably yell but you can tell he’s not mad so you just keep going with it

but once you’re done tormenting him, you do agree to the movie, don’t worry 🙏🏾

also mondo would call his s/o doll

that is all

chihiro fujisaki

my fav dude in a dress <3

chihiro would be quite shy, but that’s just how he is tbh so no surprise there

he’s very kind so he’d check up on you often just to see how you are

he cares about you v much

the way he confesses is one that consists of a red face as he offers you a box of candy or something similar

and he’d feel honored that you reciprocate his feelings

he’d be very scared to tell you his secret but once he does, he’s delighted to hear it doesn’t make any difference to you

he doesn’t know how he got so lucky with you

not only because woooo they like me back but also because you like him despite,, well everything about him LMFAOO

sweet lil boy

i’d feel like he’d talk about you to alter ego a lot

and when u meet the program for the first time, he’s like “oh! you must be [name]! master’s told me all about you :)”

sobbing i miss him

kiyotaka ishimaru

okay here’s the thing

if taka were to like someone

i can’t tell whether he’d be more strict because he doesn’t want them to get in trouble (and also so it would hopefully divert any suspicion that he DOES like you since he treats you the same as everyone else, only more)

or if he’d hold back more because he favors them LMFAOO

so imma write a lil bit for both

in the case that he was even stricter:

he’d prefer to be around you because he believes the best way he can make sure you stay out of trouble is to make sure you don’t get into any in the first place

of course it’s impossible to monitor you every second of every day but he does his best to make sure you’re doing well

if he sees you do anything out of line, he’s shutting that shit down IMMEDIATELY

but in the case he let up:

he’d still lecture you but noticeably less than the other students

if your feet were resting on top of a desk, he’d ask you to move them and then leave you alone rather than yell at you and forcibly move them himself

if you notice his behavior towards you in comparison to the other students do not tease him about it he will go as red as his eyes /hj

either way he’s confessing to you with a polite but exaggerated bow while holding out a well thought out letter with both hands

sayaka maizono

she will tell you

idk why but i feel like she’d be straight up lol

she’d make sure she’s sincere

she is the ultimate pop idol and all so she wants to make sure you know that she really does like you and isn’t playing a sick joke on you or anything

ok bc

while i do think she’d tell you

i’d feel like she’d be a little indirect just to see how you feel

like she’d give you a free ticket to one of her upcoming concerts with a kind smile

and naturally, you're like :o

and of course you come to support her

and seeing you smile at her from the crowd and cheer her on was the encouragement she needed to push her to ask you out

for real this time

she asks if you wanna come to a concert with her and ur like “oh yeah i love ur shows!!” bc ur dumb and then she’s like “no i mean.. for another artist” and eventually it hits you that she’s asking you out and ur like “oH YEAH YEAH SURE THAT SOUNDS GREAT YEAH OK” LMFAOO

———

i really hope that this is good LMFAOO this is my first time writing for dr so 😃👍🏾

fun fact i finished toko’s section first and taka’s last 😁😁

and i’d like to thank @mius-imagination @bloodygir n the rest of the discord for helping me figure some of these characters out *simultaneously whips and nae naes*

bye ive been working on this for like weeks this took forever

———

edit: here’s a deleted section bc i kept blanking for this character 😍

[ratbastarddotfuck]

Except the question isn't "do you respect people you aren't attracted to" it's "do you respect people you find ugly" and there is a difference. there are people I'm not attracted to. as I have explained multiple times, my point isn't really that I think everyone is beautiful (I never said that! I was very careful with my words) or that everyone should think everyone is beautiful, it's that we need to get away from the idea that true ugliness exists. we cannot be free of beauty culture if we still believe that yes, there are actually ugly women (or men, or people), or ugly bodily features.

obviously I have features that I am and am not attracted to, obviously I have my own biases. I have spent a long fucking time and a lot of work to become aware of those biases so that if and when they crop up, they don't impact how I interact with someone. I have also done the work in my mind of disconnecting these features from perceived ugliness - that "ugh" instinct. it takes time but it CAN be done. I'm not out here trying to act like I'm some wonderful fucking body positive fairy from a world where everyone is gorgeous. but I genuinely, truly, do not ever find myself thinking about how ugly someone is or how bad they look, because I simply no longer give a fuck. I worked at this for years, because I needed to, for my survival as a fat, "ugly" child. I internalised this on myself before anyone else.

I KNOW that those posts are about "respect people even if you find them ugly". That's a great message, for sure, but it's honestly a little bit kindergarten level (even if, admittedly, a lot of people didn't get the "be kind to people who are different to you" message). This post is taking this a step further, with "now, unpack why you find someone ugly. study those features. are they really that bad? try to stop thinking of people as ugly. it's more possible than you think."

If you're not ready to do that, then fine. But you should question why you are so eager to hold on to your conception of ugliness and beauty. None of it is real.

edit: THE POINT IS that when these posts equate ugliness or unnatractiveness or "being a solid 3" or being "not hot" to being "not traditionally attractive or feminine", that is an utter disgrace and a disservice to these girls and women and fems. there are better ways to get this point across without throwing them under the bus.

post genres that make me feel kinda weird: "do you still respect that trans girl if she's not hot? if she's a solid 3? if she looks like total dogshit? if she's a fat slob? if she still looks like an ugly dirty man?"

yeah I do actually. and i know you're trying to make a point but I think you might have some of your own appearance-based biases to unlearn?

[lordoftermites]

You Never Break ⚜ Part Ⅰ

⊰ ☘ ⊱ Cardan's POV: The Queen of Nothing, from the end of Chapter 13 through Chapter 17. ⊰ ☘ ⊱ A massive, pterodactyl-screeching thank you to my dearest punishment @euridce and the bombastic @figonas for dealing with my bullshit and allowing me to subject them to betaing this (and literally everything else), but especially for being my Hype Train Goblin Queens and not letting me lose to my perfectionism. ⊰ ☘ ⊱ { edit: the wordcount actually turned out to be 3,765 because I added more shit after I copypasta'd here but I literally cannot be arsed to change the graphic lol. }

≼ FIC MASTERLIST HERE≽

Contrary to erstwhile thinking, it is not quite as simple a task to travel at any expeditious speed whilst carrying a half-dead goblin through the biting nighttide—whilst also taking care to keep yourself and aforementioned half-dead goblin undiscovered by those who would very much like to lop your kingly head right off of your kingly shoulders.

And, if all of that is not enough of a juggling act, appending the minor detail that you’ve just taken flight on a steed conjured from the ragwort in your pocket, after leaving your wife below (at her behest and your protest) to fend for herself with naught but a magical cloak and her unspoken, mortal promise to do as you say...

Well. There are reasons you are not lauded for your prowess as a jester, just as your Queen is even less admired for her graces of verity.

Yet, surely by some feat of fortuitous magic, Cardan does manage it; the concealing mists part just enough to allow the flying mount and its travelers to slip through.

Braving a glance over his shoulder, he watches as the fog coils and swirls closed like a protective curtain behind them. It's disorienting—very like taking an overconfident step forward, only to find the ground is not quite as close as you first perceived. Even as one often besotted with wine and other such stupefacients, Cardan does not particularly enjoy that feeling.

Sea fret mingles with the haze of preternatural clouds as they begin a descent. It veils his lips, clings to his wool-spun clothing and weighs down his hair. He shakes the dampened curls from his eyes just as the four isles of Elfhame begin to take shape in the darkness beneath him, and lets out an unsteady breath; he wonders, absently, if he's exhaled at all since leaving Jude on the ground.

He cannot help the inglorious relief that the Roach, in his state, does not hear it.

It’s an odd sensation, to observe your kingdom from such a high vantage point. Perhaps, before now, he disallowed himself to feel the full measure of his obligation; the sobering comprehension that this vastness of soil and sapling and stone, along with all its inhabitants, will thrive, or decay, under his governance. Looking down at the land—his land—brings that realization crashing down upon him with as much force as one of Balekin’s punishments.

Cardan tightens his grip on the animal’s leafy mane against a bout of dizziness, abruptly wishing he had something a bit less insubstantial with which to steady himself.

The Crooked Forest rises to meet them, gnarled limbs twisting upward as if to embrace their sovereign. That seems illusionary, though Cardan does note at once the marked shift in the air; while still cool, no longer does each inhale carry an icy jab to his lungs or bite at the tips of his ears. It envelopes him and his company, gently carrying them above the mossy heads of slumbering root men and women. None of them stir, thankfully, but Cardan isn’t altogether sure his arrival goes unnoticed by them, either.

Welcome home, young King, the wind seems to whisper in his ear. Cardan shivers, and it has nothing to do with the weather.

Alighting just at the edge of the hollow hill, Cardan takes a half-breath to think—and reproaches himself for not doing more of that before they had landed; the Roach’s etiolated complexion, rattling breath, and stiffening limbs are not an entirely promising combination. Then, there is yet the matter of finding Liliver, who might not even be in the palace. And even then, there is the very real likelihood that he is already too late, that the deathsweet’s effects may have already reached its peak.

Cardan has to swallow against the bile creeping up his throat at that unsettling thought.

If only Jude had just come with him. Mistress of strategy and scheming, she would have drawn up a clever plan before they even took flight, as well as a surfeit of contingencies. Moreover, she would know better than he whether or not they held the favor of time; her province of poison is concerningly vast, as she had proven when Cardan himself very nearly shuffled off his immortal coil in dissolution.

Jude had known in an instant, merely by tasting the wraithberry that had stained his lips. How she knew its savour, to say nothing of how she knew it so intimately, Cardan knows not and she has yet to divulge. It is but another closely-clutched secret he must tack onto the growing list of queries for things a man really ought to know about his wife.

In the interim, the High King of Elfhame—and, more regrettably, the Roach—must rely entirely on himself.

Not much of a comfort, that.

Keeping a hand on the Roach to prevent his suffering an unnecessary fall from the horse, Cardan swings himself off of the thing’s back. With care, he lifts the inanimate body of his mentor into his arms. A low, distressed groan comes from the Roach at being jostled—the first sign of cognizance he’s shown since they left Grimsen’s forge. As pained as the sound is, it nonetheless gives Cardan a small hope that perhaps he hasn’t been too late after all.

Its magic spent, the ragwort pony dissolves in a puff of yellow perianths; an indolent breeze scatters some of the remnants across the dark hill, while others continue their aimless drifting to pollinate elsewhere on the isles. Cardan watches a lone petal catch in the wiry hair of the Roach’s brow and without thinking, he brushes it away. He justifies this allowance of rare gentleness with the fact that no one is around to bear witness to it.

As friendship goes, Cardan is all too aware he hasn’t known much in the way of loyalty or for reasons beyond selfish gain. His former companions had desired only what they could glean from him, the immunity his sway as a prince that had granted them the ability to carry out whatever deviant fancy they could dream up. Even Nicasia had had her own contrivances for being his lover, until she had ultimately found more excitement in the stories—and bed—of Locke.

He is not experienced in having a friend simply for the sake of it. In having someone—or a few someones, for that matter—enjoy his wit and cleverness and skills. That enjoy him, Cardan Greenbriar, rather than what advantages the crown atop his head can give.

Perhaps it is dangerous territory for a king to have bonds extending beyond those of mere allies. Perhaps the trust that comes with such friendships is a bit like handing over a blade to your enemy, freshly sharpened, and saying, Here you go, this holds all the ways with which to kill me. I’ll just turn my back.

Even so, when all you have known your entire life is the contempt and malignancy of those who ought to love you, it is not an entirely stunning realization that you would hand over that blade so willingly.

And he had done, in earnest; in his naivety with Nicasia. In his camaraderie with the Court of Shadows. In everything with Jude.

This is doubtless the reason Cardan’s feet begin to move now, carrying him and the Roach in his arms to the palace entrance with some new swell of confidence. Perhaps it is a detriment to believe that these new friends would not be so hastened and flippant as the last to betray him, but he believes it nevertheless. He also knows, albeit by way of unfortunate experience, that when the situation had been reversed, they had not wasted an idle moment in saving him.

So on he goes, through the wall and into the brugh, careful to keep the Roach’s pallid face hidden in the crook of his arm and denying any assistance his guards offer with a firm shake of his head. They move to follow, but halt at once and return to their posts when Cardan waves them off. Of the merits that come with being King, Cardan is especially grateful that denying explanations is one of them.

Even more fortuitously, his journey is not further hindered by any member of the Living Council—who have undoubtedly been tearing at their beards and skirts attempting to locate and descend upon their unruly monarch. Cardan imagines even now they are in the war room or assembled in his chambers, pacing and theorizing and crying out in panic. At the thought of the Minister of Keys pounding his fists on the table and cursing his luck for having such an impudent master to serve, the corner of Cardan’s mouth twitches. If only the wizened Randalin had the sense to make himself more difficult to nettle, perhaps Cardan would try to do so less.

Though the hill is yet alive, with lingering revelers still clutching the edges of twilight and servants clearing the remnants of food and drink, the many tricks of sly-footing he has been taught manages to keep him out of sight from any who might notice; it takes no time at all to slip through the hidden passage, into the wine cellar and emerge on the other side of the new Court of Shadows.

Cardan had hoped to show and consult Jude on the plans for these rooms, including the strategy chamber he had in mind for her—of which he was particularly proud: he had designed it himself—after she pardoned herself and returned to him. That hadn’t gone entirely the way he had imagined, and so they had gone on with the rebuilding without her. Cardan resolves that now, he can simply give her a full tour of them, should she come back posthaste. Should she decide to come back at all.

No, he rebuffs that line of thinking. Jude will return, just as she promised. When she comes home, Cardan will lead her through the rebuilt Court, and she will ooh and ahh and find him so ridiculously clever she’ll be too awed to do anything but kiss him for his prodigiousness.

She will forget she had ever been angry with him—or, at the very least, spare him the full measure of her wrath. She will forgive him for his trickery and assure him again that she had not fed his letters to the fire; she will tell him how desperately she missed him, that the mortal world is awful and terrible and nothing worth going back to. He will kiss her hair and tell her they need never be parted again. They will begin their reign as they should have done the moment their vows were made, and all will be just fine and well and as it should be.

These are all of the things Cardan tells himself as he steps into the main chamber.

He chuckles quietly to the darkness, a sudden incredulity sweeping over him; after all his prior distaste for mortals and those little hopeful deceits they allow, to wish away an awful thing or to make that awful thing seem less terrible, he has caught himself doing just that. He wonders what Jude might say, if he said her mortality was rubbing off on him?

Upon entering the main hall, Cardan is met with a collective gasp—either from the sudden, unannounced arrival of the High King or at the state of the Roach, he doesn’t know, nor does he have time to find out; before he can call for her, Liliver is already there, her dark face paled and taut. She does not seem to even notice Cardan, her frantic, wide-eyed gaze fixed on the Roach.

“What happened to him?” The Bomb demands, seeming to realize Cardan’s presence only as an afterthought, though he does nothing to reprimand her for her tone. The current circumstance, along with the raw fear on the rogue’s face, is enough to cast any necessity for formalities into shadow.

"Darts, poisoned with deathsweet," Cardan tells her, elaborating when Liliver's piercing glare flickers up to meet him. "We... misestimated the cleverness of the traps Grimsen set to protect his forge." The Bomb frowns at that, and Cardan is sure he’ll have much more explaining to do before the night is through and she is fully satisfied, but neither of them need reminding of the more important matter at hand. “Let’s—let’s get him to a bed,” Liliver says. Though her voice wavers, her eyes never leave the disturbingly still body of the Roach as she leads them into a small room carved out from the main one.

She steps aside to allow Cardan to enter and lower the Roach onto the single bed, before seating herself on the edge of it. A bundle of tinctures and salves rest in her lap, from where or how she procured them so quickly, Cardan doesn’t know and isn’t inclined to ask. By the deep-set furrow of her brow and the way she worries her bottom lip between her teeth, she is calculating the situation and he wagers any unnecessary queries might hinder—or annoy—her deliberation. So he simply stands there, silent and helpless, watching her work.

The light emitting from the small orbs hanging above their heads does little to illuminate much of the Roach’s features, but it’s bright enough to view the waxen sheen of his skin, the odd way his limbs lie rigid at his side. He looks as close to death as one could appear, and if not for the shallow rise and fall of his chest, one could easily believe he had already gone. Cardan swallows and looks away, as if staring instead at the rough stone floor will quash the disquiet he feels.

If the Roach succumbs to the poison, he knows with whom the fault will lie, and there will be none among them to scorn him as much as he will scorn himself.

As Liliver works, sifting through the assortment of small glass bottles in her lap until she picks one filled with a thick, amber solution, Cardan gives her as much detail of the night's emprises as he can in short order: their attempted (and rather unsuccessful) rescue of Jude, of the Roach’s poisoning; of why they had entered the smith’s forge in the first place.

Upon hearing the truth behind the Ghost’s betrayal, the vial slips from her hand and Cardan barely manages to snatch it from the air before it shatters on the ground. The Bomb’s eyes are wide as saucers as she takes back the bottle, but Cardan thinks he catches the smallest glint of hope in them, despite their current predicament.

“You mean, all this time... he was being commanded? Controlled by Locke and Madoc?”

Cardan nods. “Doubtless by my brother as well, though Jude didn’t say one way or another.”

He wouldn’t have considered it debasing of Dain's character to control someone in such totality. In fact, he has no misgivings at all that there was anything, save perhaps a grubworm, that had been beneath his brother. He shakes his head and shrugs, more to his own thoughts than the Bomb's question. “I’ll let her tell us which it is, when she comes home.”

It is too afflictive to imagine she will not, that he has yet again voraciously lapped up a lie she has fed him. He cannot believe that as he waits, Jude is riding off through the air with her sisters back to the mortal world, laughing as she tells them how effortlessly she has fooled the desperate High King of Faerie.

He will have time enough to wallow in his own selfish, agonized reveries; Cardan wills his attention back to the present, back to the Bomb and the Roach, who appears even less on the fortunate side of time since they arrived.

“Will he…” Live, or die. Both words are there on his tongue, but he cannot bring himself to say either and the question lingers, thick and unfinished in the air between the three of them. Liliver doesn’t seem willing—or able to answer, only giving him a small shake of cloud-white curls as she keeps her back to him.

Watching how carefully she wipes the Roach’s forehead with a damp cloth, hearing the hushed, unintelligible things she tells him, the understanding that Cardan perhaps ought not intrude further becomes all too clear. He has completed his task, what he promised Jude he would do. There is nothing more required of him.

With Liliver’s promise that she will send word of any changes, good or ill, Cardan excuses himself from the Court of Shadows.

Cardan spends the remainder of the day in his chambers attempting sleep, because he has proved himself of little use elsewhere, there is nothing else to do, and because if Jude were here she would tell him a High King needs rest if he is to go delegating and answering petitions and doing whatever else there is that good, proper kings are supposed to do.

However, it is precisely because Jude isn’t here that he cannot rest.

Though he does give it an honest effort. He tries lying on his back, drawing forth tiny white blossoms to count as they bloom above his head, aiming to bore himself into a stupor. He counts and counts and counts. The mingling fragrance of several different flowers permeates the room and penetrates his nose. When he reaches six hundred forty-seven for the third time, he gives that up.

Exasperated, Cardan flops onto his side, stretching an arm across the sheets. He stares at the empty space beside him, where Jude had rested the first night they had spent together—the night he had convinced her that becoming Queen of Elfhame, his wife, was the better choice for both of them.

It had all been true, of course: everything Cardan had said to get her to agree. There had been no deception or scheming in his words; he had desired his freedom, as desperately as Jude craved power, and their union had the ability to grant both in absolution.

The Living Council had become insistent on the idea that their King should take a wife anyway, for their own overboring political reasons, and so Cardan had.

The only addendum to all of this, the only detail that he had surreptitiously kept from both the Council and Jude, was that he wanted to marry her. Not Nicasia, as the Council had wanted, as Cardan had once believed he should and could enjoy. Not the hag Mother Marrow’s daughter, who likely would have found some clever way to cause his demise so that she might live on as the sole ruler of Faerie. None of them would have been well-suited for him, nor he well-suited for them. None of them could give him what he wanted, because what he wanted was Jude.

That is all he wants now—to have her home and here in his bed, to fill the space that has been empty since she left. Since he made her leave.

Cardan pushes himself off the bed in a frustrated huff. Deciding he could do with a little less sober thinking, he calls for wine, and when the servant arrives with a fresh decanter and goblet, he fills it to the brim and drinks it to the dregs. After repeating this process a few more times, Cardan rounds the large desk—his father’s desk, he cannot help to remind himself, no matter how many times he sits at it—to continue the speech he’s been writing. He picks up the slip of paper between two fingers and holds it to the guttering candle flame to examine it. It’s already a rather lengthy speech, admittedly, but more important than any he has articulated yet. It is one explaining to Jude that her exile had not been methodically planned, that he thought she would work it out much more expeditiously. He would further explain he had not accounted for the fact she hadn’t worked it out at all, and that he had come to fully regret his own cleverness midway through his second letter.

Of course, Jude had told him she hadn’t received any of those letters.

He cannot help recalling how she looked at him then, the last time they were here in his rooms: skittish and trembling, desperate as a wild animal backed into a corner.

Hardly a fortnight has passed since Madoc had taken her, believing he had heroically rescued her twin from nigh execution. And yet it feels as distant as any half-remembered dream upon waking, blurred on the details and every attempt to grasp the memory only causes it to slip further away. Like a hand waving smoke.

Except a dream is something usually pleasant; smiling faces, a kiss one might yearn for in the waking world and only receive when they close their eyes. Dreams are things of wonderment. Pretty visions and heart’s desires.

No, it had not been like a dream at all—not the way she had looked at him.

That hatred, burning into him like white-hot iron, the fear she could lie away with words but could not conceal from her face, the venom in her voice when she spoke. It was more terrible than any of Cardan’s nightmares.

Everything you say to me, everything you promise, it’s all a trick. And I, stupid enough to believe you once.

He had wanted to reach out to her, to take her hand and tell her his trick had been only that, a hasty plan to keep her out of Orlagh’s grasp. He had wanted to pull her to him and breathe in the comforting scent of her hair, to feel her warmth against his chest. To beg her forgiveness and will away her anger with a kiss.

Then he had seen the glint of the blade in her hand.

Even after Vivi’s flustered explanation of her sister’s capture, after he and the Roach had set out from the mortal world to find her—even after their brief moment in Madoc’s camp just hours ago, when Jude swore she hadn’t thrown in her lot with her betrayer of a foster-father, Cardan cannot rend from his mind the image of her holding that knife.

He passes the paper through the flame and watches it burn until it is nothing but a stain of black ash on the desk.

Waving away the lingering smoke, he rises and goes to dress for the night ahead, without rest, and knowing that no amount of sleep or drink or honeyed words will erase what he has done—or may yet do.

⊰ ☘ ⊱ okAY so this first bit turned out a lot longer than I'd originally intended (legit this whole thing was supposed to just be a oneshot lmfao) but if you made it this far, I'm very sorry but thanks for taking the time to read. I hope you enjoyed it, and as usual—if you didn't, don't tell me about it.

If you want to be added to my tag list, just yeet a reply to this post and I'll add you.

⊰ ☘ ⊱ @euridce @figonas @jurdanhell

[anonniemousefics]

cardan pov ch 21 anon here— I totally wouldn't mind a long, steamy detailed one 😍

Ps - you're a sweetheart to even give the option 🤧

Yessss -- you are my kind of people. (I was actually hoping someone would want this! lol.) Gather around, my thirsty sinners. You asked for it - it’s His Monstrous Bride Part III. (This isn’t all that explicit -- I tried to make it pretty. :) ) 

(Also I didn’t do much editing - sorry. I need to get back to work. LOL.)

For reference, here’s His Monstrous Bride and His Monstrous Bride Part II and this little steamy Cardan POV drabble from The Wicked King and also this sappy thing.

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

There’s no escaping it this time. Cardan is escorting Jude Duarte back to his bedroom, their bedroom, and there’s absolutely no escaping it. Every eye has been watching them all evening. Surely every conspiring mind has now been examining their relationship from afar for its weaknesses, and Jude must know this, too.

That has to be why she’s taking it this far, Cardan tells himself. She must want to keep up the ruse, a show of their marriage’s fortitude.

So, when the door closes behind them, his first plan is to take the secret passages to the Court of Shadows for the night – as he has every night since Jude returned. He’ll find a cot there and practice attempts at flipping coins through his fingers until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore. He’ll try not to think about Jude.

And one day, that will become habit. One day, it won’t be so bad.

Behind him, Jude sighs and sags against the doorframe. When he turns to look at her again, she almost hurts to look at. She is ravishing, draped in decadent gold that glitters like chain mail. If she is exhausted, she hasn’t looked it yet. Or maybe he hasn’t been paying close enough attention – the gown dips perilously low in the front, and it’s been practically impossible to keep his eyes from taking little trips there.

It’s that sight and more that pulls him back a step against his better judgment -- and then another.

“You were very formidable tonight, my queen,” he tells her. He likes calling her his queen. He likes even better the look she gets on her face when she hears it. She seems as little flushed when he steps nearer.

“After that speech you made, it didn’t take much,” she says, looking up at him with those big, warm brown eyes. When she looks at him with admiration like this, he thinks he might actually be something worth loving. Or at least, he will make himself so if it means Jude will always see him like this.

“It cannot be anything other than the truth,” he reminds her. “Or it never could have left my tongue.”

He’s spent many fantasies in his younger days dreaming up villainous soliloquies, but he finds now, looking down at Jude like this, so close and so soft, her eyes glittering, her pink lips parting, his mind drifts to poetry. He wishes he had better words to give her. He wishes he had the magic to make her understand what he feels.

If she could know, maybe then she could feel something in return…

But then, Jude says, her voice low, her cheeks flushing: “You didn’t come to bed last night.”

Cardan scrambles to hide his surprise. After slapping him in the royal rose garden, he’d felt fairly certain she wouldn’t want him anywhere near their bed. He must be misunderstanding…

“I’m here now,” he says.

How many times has he wished he could see into Jude’s mind? He’s lost count at this point. Is she angry with him? Is she plotting? Is she desiring him? He never knows. He can’t keep up. What’s important is that, right now, in this moment, she isn’t moving. She’s still gazing up at him, her eyes flitting over his mouth, and he’s so aware of her warmth. If one of them were to move, they could be touching.

He’s going to try. He must. He’s desperate for her.

Gingerly, carefully, he takes her hand, and she lets their fingers entwine again. She gazes up at him again, like an invitation. Her eyes are so clearly full of hope, with the tiniest quirk of a smile on her lips – and he’s done for. He gives in to the unseen pull that draws him to her lips.

He’s kissed her before, but this. Oh, this. When he’d tricked her into marrying him and traded kisses with her in the dark, it wasn’t even as good as this – and until this, that had been his favorite. In that moment, he’d felt like he was hers, and she his, and for a moment, everything was safe and right. He’d cursed the memory of that feeling while she was in exile, fearing he’d never again have anything so perfect – but here, he thinks he might have been wrong about that. He hopes he was wrong. It feels like she’s surrendering to his lips, arching into him, each kiss a request for another.

He never wants to stop. When she’s like this, he wants to kiss every soft bit of her she’ll let him. He touches fingers to her chin, leaving kisses across her mouth, her cheeks, her jaw. The sigh she lets out when he dips to kiss her neck sends a bolt of desire, hot and severe, all though his whole body.

“You looked like a knight in a story tonight,” he murmurs there. “Possibly a filthy story.”

She kicks him in the leg, but he feels her smile against his skin – he knew she’d love that. He takes her lips again – he would give anything, everything to keep making Jude smile.

Nothing’s slowing down, and he’s dizzy in this pull of heated desire and confusion – where is this going? What is she thinking? Surely, she’ll shove him off soon, like she did in the room behind the dais. But she’s staggering, too -- maybe just as dizzy -- and he presses her to the wall. The air leaves his body when she pulls at his shirt, sliding her fingertips up his back.

There’s no misreading that, right? She’s clearly into this. His tail seems to think so, the little traitor. It’s wrapped itself around her ankle, and the feel of her calf beneath it sends thrills up his spine. It’s so deliciously indecent – he’s losing his head. He wants so much more. His fingers push into her hair – her skin is hot under his hands. More.She wraps her arms over his shoulders, pulling him flush with her curves. More. He takes her in his arms, his hands at her hips, lifting her feet off the floor.

It’s then she draws in a tight breath. Freezes in his arms.

Of course. Of course. He sets her back down. He knew this was coming. This was too much. He’s too much. Now he’s overwhelmed her. Her cheeks are rosy, her eyes bright – her chest (oh, gods, her chest) heaves like she’s been running.

“We need not--” he starts, and he’s out of breath, too. But Jude shakes her head.

“No, just give me a second,” she says, and bites her lip, and Cardan feels absolutely feverish. He wants to bite that lip.

Jude takes a step back. This may be his undoing. If this is going to end poorly, he may end up running off into the night, shrieking like a feral lunatic, never to be seen again.

“I’ll be right back,” she says, which is somehow not reassuring at all. Especially when she turns and fairly flees for the wardrobe.

Cardan is dumbstruck and breathless as he turns, looking wildly around the room for his own exit. What did he do? How did this happen? She seemed just as desperate for him seconds ago – what did he do? His palms are sweaty – was that it? Did his hands disgust her? He tries to dry them on his trousers, which are feeling a little uncomfortable and too tight. Oh, no – was that what she’d noticed? His – his…

Cardan closes his eyes. There’s going to be no coming back from this humiliation. (At least now his trousers are comfortable again.) It’s time to go feral. Time to join the cats of the wild that raised him. This is his destiny, he supposes.

There’s some rustling behind him from the wardrobe, and he knows it’s Jude returning. Probably to tell him it’s best if she finds her own rooms. He takes a deep breath and swallows to steel himself.

And then turns.

Jude.

Jude is – Jude is – Jude Duarte is completely naked.

Cardan makes some completely embarrassing sound in his shock. She is -- oh, gods – she is exquisite. He has always thought her the only real thing in a land of spirits, and she has never looked more real than she does now. That enticing curve of her ears is nothing compared to the full swell of her hips, the heaviness of her breasts, the formidable curve of every toned muscle. He feels more real just looking at her.

She’s biting that lip again, her eyes glittering with mirth.

“Come here.” He means to ask it, but he can’t help it. He must have more of this.

Her gaze smolders as she sashays to him. Then drops to her knees before him.

Is this a dream? It’s a very good one. Cardan really hopes he doesn’t wake up too soon.

“Is this what you imagined I’d be like,” Jude asks, her voice husky, “back in your rooms at Hollow Hall, when you thought of me and hated it? Is this how you pictured my eventual surrender?”

Cardan’s face burns. Admitting his darkest fantasies to Jude Duarte was not something he’d ever planned on doing. But she doesn’t seem to hate the truth of him – she may not love him, but there is clearly something she doesn’t mind so much.

“Yes,” he hears himself admit. He’ll take the gamble.

Jude presses a hand to his thigh. He wonders if she’ll notice the twitching in his pants.

“Then what did I do?” she murmurs.

This can’t be real. Can it? It’s not even been a week since she slapped him. And he’s not sure she won’t do it again if she knows the truly depraved things that once filled his prepubescent mind.

But she also might not…

“I imagine you telling me to do with you whatever I liked.” Another gamble. The truth hasn’t hurt him yet tonight.

Jude splutters out a laugh. Cardan smiles, nervously.

“Really?” She sounds incredulous.

“Along with some begging on your part. A little light groveling.” He cannot believe he’s doing this. He should be slapped. “My fantasies were rife with overweening ambition.”

And then Jude slides back to the cold stone floor, lying on her back before him, and his heart stops. He’s read that in novels before – about sights making the hero’s heart stop. He assumed it was an exaggeration – hyperbole. It is not. He’s not sure how he’s still alive.

“You may do with me whatever you like,” Jude says, extending her arms out to him. “Please oh please. All I want is you.”

She’s teasing him. He knows it. She thrives on trickery. Still. How can he not at least get a little closer? He must at least try…

He draws in a breath. Drops so that he is on all fours, hovering above her. Beneath him, her auburn hair splays out like a fan across the stones, and the hollow at the base of her slender throat darkens with each breath. She reaches her hands to his shoulders, holding him there. Holding, he notes – not pushing away.

He turns his head to kiss her wrist. Her pulse races beneath his lips – he’s not imagining it. He knows he’s not, and it’s then he’s starting to understand that this may not be a trick. Jude wants him. Jude Duarte wants him – even after learning the truths of his darkest imaginings. That is absurd.

That is…utterly glorious.

“Mock me all you like,” he murmurs and brushes back a lock of her hair, tenderly. “Whatever I imagined then, now it is I who would beg and grovel for a kind word from your lips.” Her lips part slightly in surprise – she is the very picture of his desires. “By you,” he says, “I am forever undone.”

And undone as he is, Cardan is helpless to his body’s call. He bends to kiss her again, and when he does, she slides her fingers into his hair, pulling him to her. When he arches against her naked body, he groans, aching with need. Somehow his shirt is undone – he’s not sure which one of them did it. Only that it’s got to go. He wants to feel every inch of her against him. If she’ll let him.

And just when he thinks he has her figured out --

“I’m not mocking,” Jude whispers against his ear.

That stops him.

He pulls back. It is absolutely unbelievable that she has not been teasing him. She truly wants him to do with her as he pleases? There is still so much about Jude Duarte he does not understand.

“We have lived in our armor for so long, you and I. And now I am not sure if either of us knows how to remove it,” he says.

“Is this another riddle?” Jude asks. “And if I answer it, will you go back to kissing me?”

Gods. He will never tire of the puzzle of Jude Duarte.

And now that she seems to be truly offering, truly wanting, he is further surprised to realize how drastically his own wants have changed. Every fantasy he had pales in comparison to witnessing Jude Duarte want him.

“If that’s what you want.” He moves to be at her side. He mentally kicks himself for not sounding more sure of himself. It’s just… she has hated him for so long. And she may not love him ever.

But wanting him. She does want him. That is enough. That is more than enough.

“I told you what I wanted,” Jude challenges. “For you to do with me whatever--”

“No,” he cuts her off. She doesn’t understand. “What you want.”

Show me you want me. He wants to witness the proof.

And she shows him. She straddles his body, and it is better than anything he could have imagined. She is statuesque – she is monumental. He is in awe below her.

“I want--” But she blushes and kisses him instead, her breasts pressed to his chest. She kisses him again and again.

This is what she wants.

Her hands are everywhere – his face, his chest, his stomach. Her fingers are sliding under his trousers.

This is what she wants.

His hands meet hers, and he lifts his hips just slightly to pull off his pants. He watches her face every second, watches for any sign that she’s changed her mind. But she keeps her gaze on his face the whole time – heated. Expectant.

This is what she wants.

He’s aching, wanting, dripping with desire. He holds his breath – she takes him in her hand as she brings them together in a careful slide.

This is what she wants.

She gasps, and he cups a hand to her soft cheek, the other a gentle anchor at her back while she moves slowly. She turns her head and bites his palm, sharp and fierce, a low sound in the back of her throat. It is agony and bliss all at once.

You are what she wants.

He hasn’t done much worthy in the short span of his never-ending life, but somewhere along the line, he must have done something right. He thinks this must be how lion tamers feel – no, better. Jude wants him. She is taking from him all that she wants, and he will give her everything he can. He’ll give her a map and a shovel to dig through the wreckage of his heart. He’ll let her keep any broken bit she likes.

His thoughts leave him completely as they move together as one toward their pleasure and its blissful pain. He knows only that she sighs his name against his skin, and it is the first time in these many long months that he’s actually felt like a king.

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

Tagging: @yellowavocadopit, @dagypsygirl, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @booklover-sleeplover, @mwejh, @courtofjurdan, @faeriequeenofwest, @sugawsites, @loveyourselfsolid, @owl0y0s, @feelinglikecleopatra, @akaloto, @charrise, @persephxnecoven, @raging-bisexual-alert, @rteme, @nahthanks, @addies-invisible-life, @elorcanislife, @snusbandxknifewife, @poeticbrownmermaid, @duarteegreenbriar, @thefolkofthefic, @alittledribbledrabble, @carmensworld17, @annejulianneh111, @amandlas, @elriel4life, @idk-what-name-to-use, @thewickedkings, @juliazato, @woodsbeyond1, @booksmusicandgoodvibes, 

[army-author]

jimin scenario | in for a treat

❝ as you grow up together, you and jimin celebrate halloween in your own special way. with the passing of the years, your relationship continues to blossom while the trees shed their leaves... ❞

➝ prompt: i’ve never celebrated halloween before, but it’s your favourite holiday. you’re determined to make my first halloween the most exciting holiday ever. i’m loving the enthusiasm, but isn’t this a bit much?

➝ pairing: slytherin jimin x slytherin reader

➝ genre: fluff, hogwarts au, friends to lovers

➝ requested by anon | 8.5k words

➝ warnings: implied smut

➝ author’s note: sorry that this is so late. i had this written before halloween, but never got the time to edit it until now, so apologies if it’s weird reading such a heavily halloween themed fic in november. i hope everyone enjoys it, regardless! i think i may have strayed a little from the prompt, but hopefully all the fluffy moments are worth it!

Halloween was never a holiday that interested you. At least that’s how it used to be…

Growing up with a non-magic family, the festivities had never seemed that interesting. You couldn’t figure out the appeal of a holiday dedicated to something you didn’t believe in. The ghosts, the ghouls, the whispers of magic on the air – it all appeared juvenile. Of course, you would buy the occasional pack of sweets for the school children that scurried around the neighbourhood, demanding treats on every doorstep. However, you never went out to celebrate yourself, uninterested in the costumes, the decorations, or the general air of mischief that circulated that that time of year. You had no rose-tinted nostalgia for the holiday, and no desire to dress up or carve Jack-o-lanterns.

All this changed when you met Jimin.

When you had first received your letter from Hogwarts, both you and your parents had been shocked. You had no idea up that magic even existed, and yet, there was the letter in your hands, screaming the contrary to all you believed. A well constructed prank? The look on your parents’ faces suggested otherwise. Your parents explained to you that magic truly did exist, and while they themselves were non-magical, one of your aunts was actually a witch, who had also attended Hogwarts in her youth.

With that revelation, your life flipped on its head.

After a summer spent pleading with your parents to let you go, you finally arrive at Hogwarts, filled with wonder at the new world you’ve uncovered, and amazed that your family were able to hide this from you for so long. Sorted into Slytherin, you find yourself surrounded by witches and wizards who are already familiar with this alien lifestyle – students who’ve been watching Quidditch matches since they were babbling babies, and who are already familiar with simple spells. New and alone, you find yourself  estranged from your peers.

That is, until your first Halloween at Hogwarts.

✽ ✽ ✽

[First Year – October 31st]

On the night of October the thirty first, the girls in your dormitory are preparing for the Halloween feast, with excited chatter, tying up their hair, putting on their robes, and admiring themselves in the mirror.

You sit on the edge of your bed in your robes, swinging your feet, and feeling out of place, like a pulled muscle. You’re unsure of the customs of witches and wizards, and are sweating at the thought of messing up tonight, doing something that will instantly single you out as muggle born. Nerves clamouring as you listen to two of the girls, Padma and Beatrix, whispering about all the possible treats you’ll be served that evening, all of which you’ve never even heard of before, you decide that waiting around in the dorm is just making you feel worse. You get up and walk out of the dormitory, heading to the common room. You were hoping to avoid the commotion, but soon realise your mistake, having only walked further into the confusion. A group of boys are huddled in the corner, helping each other with their ties, while a gaggle of girls giggle in the other corner, glancing at the older boys who walk past with robes billowing. Some prankster has set off a magical miniature firework which crackles dangerously close to the green tapestries hanging from the wall.

You swallow, feeling all the more daft as you watch, excluded, while the rest of your peers enjoy themselves.

“Hello.” Startled, you spin around to the source of the voice.

A boy stands in front of you. You recognise him to be Park Jimin from your potions class. You haven’t spoken to him at all, but have often noticed him – for his undeniably friendly demeanour and his distinctive laugh which always travels around the potions class, followed by the shout of “Park Jimin, and Kim Taehyung! What is so dreadfully funny that you deign it appropriate to interrupt our lesson?”

Unsure if Jimin is speaking to you, you glance around to see if there’s anyone else, and then, suddenly mute, point to yourself.

Jimin laughs. “Yes, I’m talking to you.”

“Oh… Uh, right… sorry. Hi.”

“I didn’t mean to spook you,” Jimin says, a smile playing on his lips at your lost expression, “You just looked a little lonely, so I thought I’d put you out of your misery.

He must have noticed the alarm passing across your features, as he quickly continues, “Oh, Merlin, that sounded like I was planning your assassination or something! I just meant, I wanted to talk to you, since I didn’t want you to be by yourself.”

You laugh, “Well, thank you. I must have looked pretty pathetic, huh?”

“No… well… maybe.”

You open your mouth in mock shock, and then shrug, “It must be super obvious I’m new to all of this.” You gesture to the robe you’re wearing, and clear your throat, lowering your voice, “I’m… from a muggle family.”

You know that wizards and witches from muggle families are a lot more happily accepted by the magical community than they used to be, but it is whispered that some Slytherins still cling to elitist ideals about pure blood magic wielders. You had been both surprised and nervous when you were sorted into Slytherin on your first day. Despite this, you feel at ease explaining to Jimin, who’s currently smiling at your with a friendly curiosity.

“Ah,” Jimin nods, “This must all be very strange for you then.”

“Yep. It wasn’t until my letter from Hogwarts that I even believed that magic was real!”

Jimin’s eyes go wide, ��I can’t even imagine what that must be like.”

“On top of that,” you continue on, your barriers breaking down as you easily chat with Jimin, “My family were never really into anything that even hinted at magic or the supernatural, so we never celebrated Halloween!”

You didn’t think Jimin’s eyes could widen further, but he manages to surprise you. “You what?”

A blush rises to your cheeks, and your eyes dart to the floor, suddenly embarrassed. “Yeah… not once.”

“Well, not to worry,” Jimin says, “Look at it this way – this is going to be the best Halloween of your life.”

You can’t argue with that.

“You’re in for a treat,” Jimin assures you, and you grin.

Around you, the crowd of Slytherin students have begun to meander out of the common room. “It must be time for the feast to start,” Jimin is bouncing on his toes in excitement. Feeding off his energy, you cannot help but feel excited yourself, despite not knowing what to expect at all. You follow him down the maze of corridors that make up the old school, leading you towards the Great Hall.

Entering through the grand doors, your mouth involuntarily falls open. Carved pumpkins float above the tables, casting a delicate glow over the array of delicious treats on display. There are plates piled high with tender meats, savoury pies and glazed vegetables. Sweets of all varieties sit in carved pumpkin bows, overflowing with colour.

You follow Jimin to the Slytherin table, where he offers for you to sit next to him. Across from you, at the Hufflepuff table, Jimin’s friend, Taehyung, waves at the two of you frantically.

Jimin grins and waves back, before turning his attention to you. “Well? First impressions?”

“This is all so amazing,” you gush, still transfixed by the wonderful foods piled in front of you. A mixture of delicious scents sing in your nostrils.

You wait patiently while the headmaster rumbles through his speech, welcoming each and every one of you to the feast. You’re salivating when you are finally allowed to start on the food. Despite knowing you should start with the savoury food first, your eyes are drawn, irresistibly, to the sweets. You reach for a handful of jellybeans from one one the plates in front of you.  Just as you stuff a handful into your mouth, JImin catches sight of you and begins shaking his head vigorously in warning.

Too late. A cacophony of foul tastes hit your tongue. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to be tasting, but it is not good. Eyes watering, you try not to gag.

“Here, here!” Jimin hands you a napkin, and you discreetly spit out the barely chewed mouthful, folding the napkin over a few times, hiding your faux pax in shame.

“What on God’s green earth was that?” you ask, hurrying to take a sip of water.

“Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans,” Jimin explains , “They’re well known, but I guess you haven't grown up with wizard snacks… Basically, eating one is  a gamble. You could get a delicious one. Or you could get an absolutely disgusting flavour. They’re made to cover any possible flavour under the sun. Some of the worst include skunk’s spray and vomit.”

“So that’s what that was...” You try not to think of it, despite the ghost of bitterness haunting your tongue.

Jimin chuckles, “I thought you were being incredibly brave eating so many all at once…”

“I’m new to all of this,” you remind him. Having regained your composure somewhat, you give him a nudge, “I dare you to taste one too. Just so I’m not alone in making a complete fool of myself.”

Jimin grins, “Okay, I’m up for a dare.” He roots around in the bowl, picking out a red one, which he pops in his mouth. “Mmm… cherry.”

You frown, “That’s cheating. You must have known red would be good!” You pick up a red one yourself and place it on your tongue, only to have the disgusting taste of liver clamber across your taste buds. You don’t need to tell Jimin how disgusting this bean is. Your face says it all, as Jimin begins laughing. You begin searching for the napkin again, but Jimin says, “No, no, you’ve committed. You gotta swallow now.”

You open your eyes wide, begging, but he continues, “I dare you.”

Your brows furrowing in effort; it takes all your strength not to retch as you swallow. “That’s not fair,” you say, “How come I got so unlucky?”

Jimin shrugs, “There’s about a fifty percent chance you’ll get something nice.”

You cross your arms on the table, “I still think you must have cheated somehow.”

“How about you try something tasty instead?” Jimin gestures to the other nice looking foods in front of you.

Your brow crinkles, “How am I supposed to know there aren’t other weird foods you wizards eat?”

Jimin begins spooning things onto your plate, “Don’t worry, these are all good. Cross my heart.”

You watch him pile foods higher and higher until you beg, ‘Stop, there’s no way I can eat that much!”

“Sure, but you gotta at least try a little bit of everything,” Jimin encourages, so you pick up a fork and make your way around the plate, sampling every flavour. You start with the meats, which are just as tender as they look. The chicken melts in your mouth, and the gammon is sweet and salty in the best possible way. The vegetables come next. You’ve never been a big fan of vegetables, but these could make you rethink that stance. The carrots are sweet, glazed with a honey dressing, and the parsnips are well seasoned. But the main stars of the show are the desserts. A myriad of flavours hit your senses, each one more delicious than the last. Sweet spices, creamy caramels, and smooth frostings all harmonising a ballad on your tongue, making you squirm in your seat with joy.

“Are they good?” Jimin asks, and you nod enthusiastically, mouth still full. “What’s your favourite?”

You point at one of the pastries as you swallow the last bite, “It’s all good, but I think this one is the best.

“Mmm, apple and redcurrant tart,” Jimin nods in approval, “That one’s good.”

There’s still so much food piled on your plate, but you’re too full to take another bite. You lean back, and sigh contentedly, gazing up at the starry sky that spreads out above you, stars winking down.

“I may be new to Halloween, but I could certainly get used to this,” you say.

“We’ll just have to try and make next year all the more exciting then,” Jimin says, and you give him a grin.

“Challenge accepted.”

✽ ✽ ✽

[Second Year – October 28th]

“We’ve got to make this Halloween better than the last year!”

Jimin is sat cross legged under a crooked tree, leaves just staring to turn orange and gold. You’re standing next to him, well wrapped up, not enjoying the cold that autumn brings with it, as you stamp your numb feet and rub your frozen hands together.

“Oh yeah,” Taehyung grins up at you from his spot next to Jimin, “You don’t normally celebrate Halloween, do you?”

You shake your head, at him, and his grin grows all the wider, and all the more rectangular.

“How do we top last year?” Jimin wonders, while Taehyung struggles with opening a chocolate frog pack.

“You don’t have to try and top it,” you say, finally taking a seat next to Jimin, and immediately regretting it as cold seeps into your rear. You pull your cloak around you. “Last year was fun. And next year can be fun too...”

“We could throw a party!” Taehyung burst out, interrupting you.

“Would we even be able to host one?” you ask.

Jimin’s brows are furrowed in thought. “That could be a good idea,” he says, and Taehyung smiles in pride, as he finally gets the chocolate frog pack open, only to watch as the chocolate frog hops away, finally freed from its cardboard cage.

“No, come back,” Taehyung digs in his pocket for his wand, but It’s already too late, the frog has hopped into the bushes, out of sight. Taehyung sighs, then digs in the pack for the card. “Hmm, Salazar Slytherin,” he says, staring at the card inside, “I already have him.”

“I don’t,” Jimin pipes up, “I’ll trade you the rest of my sherbet lemons for him.”

Taehyung nods, and you watch the two boys exchange, wondering what all the fuss is about. Jimin shows you the card, where a man poses proudly. You’ve got used to seeing pictures that move on paper, but you’re still always mildly impressed.

“You’re still missing the important detail that we don’t have anywhere to host a party,” you point out, and Taehyung shrugs, as he pops a sherbet lemon in his mouth:

“We can just use a common room. The Hufflepuff common room is close to the kitchen, and you don’t need a password or anything to get in. I bet I could get some of my Hufflepuff friends to help set up.”

“When would we do this?” you ask, giving in reluctantly to Taehyung’s infectious excitement.

“We can do it after the Halloween feast,” Taehyung suggests, and Jimin nods in agreement.

“This sounds great,” he says, glancing at you in anticipation, “What do you say?”

“I’m in.”

The two boys cheer.

✽ ✽ ✽

[Second Year – October 31st]

The next few days pass in a flurry, with Jimin and Taehyung passing notes around the classrooms, letting other students know of your plans. As only students from their respective houses are normally allowed in their house common room,  each student is told to keep the plans a secret from the professors.

As the evening finally arrives, Jimin is a ball of energy, struggling to contain his smile, as you walk down to the Great Hall for the feast.

All the way through the feast, you can’t help but think about what’s to follow, excited about the party that is in store later.

As soon as the feast ends, you follow Jimim along with the few other Slytherins who are going o the party, walking with the rest of the Slytherins, heading back towards the Slytherin common room. At one of the turnings on the way, you and Jimin make a left off the normal route, and begin to make your way back, following stairs down to the basement where the Hufflepuff common room is located. Reaching the door, you give the secret knock you had arranged with Taehyung beforehand.

His head pops around the door, a conspiring grin on his face as he lets you in. The Hufflepuff common room is round, with circular windows close to the ceiling which give a view of the darkness outside. House plants line the shelves of the room, some dripping their leaves down the earthy walls. Taehyung and his friends have added orange and gold streamers, with carved Jack-o-lanterns grinning from the alcoves and crevices.

“Ta-da,” Taehyung spreads out his arms, spinning around to show off his – and his friends’ – hard efforts.

“This is amazing, Taehyung,” you tell him, and he gives a wide smile:

“There’s more, come take a look at this!”

You let him lead you and Jimin over to a table stacked high with sweets. “I managed to scrounge these from the kitchens.” He gives a wink, “This is why it’s good to be friendly with the cooks. Hope you saved room.”

You hadn’t saved much, and you eye the sweets sadly, afraid that any more food would make you pop. There’s even apple and redcurrant tart. You cast it a wistful look, before letting yourself be distracted by Jimin and Taehyung.

Slowly, other students begin to trickle into the common room, some of them older students, most in the same year as you. Music begins to float from a corner of the room, and so, you grab Taehyung and Jimin, lading them to the centre of the room, where a few other students have started dancing.

Swaying in time with the music, you laugh as Taehyung and Jimin goof around in front of you, clapping along to the beat. The air is filled with happy chatter. You drink in the atmosphere, swept along by the other’s enthusiasm.

Taehyung notices a few of his friends from Hufflepuff and waves, before going over to say, “Hello”, leaving you alone with Jimin on the makeshift dance-floor.

You suddenly feel a little awkward, dancing alone with Jimin. You keep on swaying, smiling over at him every so often. His eyes are often on the floor, his dancing slowing to a gentle sway, but occasionally his eyes connect with yours before flicking down to the floor again.  Perhaps he’s feeling just as awkward as you are.

All of a sudden, there’s a shout, and the music cuts out. You halt, Jimin frozen at your side, while the other students twist their heads, looking around, trying to figure out what’s going on.

“What is the meaning of this?” Above the other heads of the students, you can just about make out the head of one of the tall Hufflepuff prefects. “You do realise that there are some students who are trying to sleep after the feast, right?” He strides forward, the other students parting in waves before him. “I think I see some non-Hufflepuff students here as well,” he comments as he passes by you. You pull your cloak around you, trying the mask the Slytherin colours on your jumper. “I have half a mind to report everyone in this room to the headmaster.”

“Aw come on,” one of the other prefects, a boy you recognise as Jung Hoseok follows behind his peer, “These kids are just having fun,” he places an arm on the other prefects shoulder. “Let’s just say it was a mistake – a learning experience – and move on. I’m sure it won’t happen again.” He gives a wink to Taehyung, who’s stood across from you, trying to look guilty.

“Alright,” the prefect snaps, “But if I hear even a single whiff of another party being held in this common room, I will march each and every pupil responsible down to the headmaster’s office myself, mark my words.”

With that, the party disperses – very quickly. Streamers are swept away with the flicking of wands, and the candles in the Jack-o'-lanterns instantaneously snuff out.

Grabbing Jimin by the sleeve, you both make a bee-line for the exit, giving Taehyung a reluctant wave as you leave.

“Well, that wasn’t as successful as I hoped,” Jimin whispers, as you make your way down the corridor, heading back towards the Slytherin dorms.

“Maybe not,” you say, “But it was fun. Did you see that prefect’s face? I thought he was going to explode with rage.”

Jimin snorts with laughter. “Sorry it wasn’t the best of Halloween experiences.”

“What do you mean?” you say, “It’s gotta be one of the best. At least top-three.”

“You haven’t even celebrated three Halloweens yet!”

“Exactly. So it’s been one of the best.”

“Well, we’ll just have to top it again next year.” Jimin decides.

✽ ✽ ✽

[Third Year – October 28th]

Moving into your third year you find yourself gifted with a little more freedom around the school. It’s the year that you’re allowed to visit Hogsmeade, and you’re an uncontainable ball of energy when the weekend closest to Halloween rolls around, marking the first date that the third years are allowed to make their way down to the all-wizarding village.

On the Saturday, you and Jimin meet up with Taehyung on the steps outside Hogwarts, and make your way down to the village.  All the way JImin is talking excitedly about how he’s planning on one-upping the Halloween festivities from last year.

“We can’t have another part  like last year,” Taehyung says, “No way am I willing to get us all in trouble again.”

“I know,” Jimin sighs, “But we’ve gotta do something exciting, right?”

The topic of Halloween soon fades away as you finally reach Hogsmeade. The village street is blanketed by leaves in red and orange, with cheery lights shining from the windows of shops, giving a cosy contrast to the drab autumnal sky.

“Where do we go first?” Taehyung asks, and you and Jimin share a look, before you both point to the sweets shop, Honeydukes.

“Do you guys think about anything other than your stomachs?” Taehyung asks, following after you, as you rush for the cosy looking shop, nestled under a crown of fallen leaves that adorn its low roof. Your eyes widen as you enter, drinking in the view of the magical sweets packed in jars from floor to ceiling. You pick out sherbet lemons, Jimin’s favourite, and he buys a packet of apple and redcurrant tarts from the pastry display. He shares the still warm pastries with you as you exit back into the cold air, and debate where to go next. Taehyung is eager to visit Zonko’s Joke shop, while Jimin needs to visit Ceridwen’s Cauldrons to get a replacement cauldron after an unfortunate incident in your last potions lesson involving an explosion and a very angry potions teacher. You make your way around the village, stopping in at each shop you want in turn, before finally stopping at the Three Broomsticks where Jimin offers to buy the three of you butterbeers.

As he leaves the table, Taehyung gives you a look that you struggle to interpret. “Looks like Jimin is super excited for your third Halloween.”

You laugh, “He’s more excited than I am.”

“Well sure, but he wants to impress you.”

“Huh?” you blush, not sure what Taehyung’s implying, “Nah, he just wants us all to have fun.”

“Yeah, but he wants you especially have fun,”  Taehyung goes on.

“Well of course, I’m his friend.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “You aren’t normally this oblivious, are you? I can’t possibly be speaking to the same person who’s aced all her divination and dark arts tests this year. I am, in fact, speaking with a moron, who’s somehow possessed the body of my friend.”

“Come on Taehyung, stop being daft” you give him a shove from across the table, “What are you trying to say.”

“I’m saying that Jimin likes you,” Taehyung enunciates every word, “As. More. Than. A. Friend. And you’d have to be an idiot not to see it.”

You shake your head, perplexed. Before you can question Taehyung further, Jimin is standing at the table, trying not to spill the three butterbeers as he sets them down.

He squeezes into the space next to you, while Taehyung gives you a meaningful look, and you blush.

“Well, cheers to our first Hogsmeade visit,” Jimin raises up his mug, and you do the same, clicking your overflowing mug against his and Taehyung’s, trying not to slosh any more of the golden liquid down the side than is absolutely unavoidable.

You take a deep sip, letting the warmth seep from your mouth down to your stomach and out to the extremities of your body, ears to fingers to toes. “Oh man, that’s so good,” you say, eyes wide as you set down your mug, wiping at the froth that was left on your lips.

Taehyung and Jimin both nod in agreement, and you settle back comfortably on your chair, pondering Taehyung’s words, as your two friends begin to argue over whether chocolate frogs are actually a good snack, or if they’re only good for the collectible cards you get with them.

✽ ✽ ✽

By the time you leave the Three Broomsticks, the sky is beginning to darken, with orange coloured clouds crowding out the deep navy of the sky.

Jimin suddenly stops in his tracks, spinning around to face you: “I’ve just had a great idea!”

You wait, curious, edging him on with your raised brows:

“I have an idea how we can celebrate Halloween this year,” he continues. You and Taehyung’s silence is encouragement enough for him to continue. “We should go visit the Shrieking Shack. I mean… I know it’s a bit early for Halloween. But it’ll be the perfect haunted experience.”

An uncertainty pools in your stomach, cold and clammy, as you stare at the abandoned house that looms over Hogsmeade. It’s rumoured to be the most haunted house in Britain. You mull over the idea in your head. “Don’t you think it’s dangerous?”

When you first arrived in Hogwarts, you were startled at the sight of actual ghosts, which you had gone your whole life beleiving to be a superstition. The ghosts at Hogwarts were friendly, but ghosts haunting an old abandoned house… you weren’t so sure.

Jimin shrugs in response to your question. “Who knows.” Seeing you hesitation, he gives a tug on your sweater, “Come on. I’ll keep you safe if anything happens, I promise.”

Taehyung raises his hands in defeat, “Listen, I don’t think I’ll stay. It’s getting late, and I just remembered I have a divinations homework to finish. But you two should go have a look and find out if it’s really haunted!”

Before you can stop him, Taehyung is spinning on his heel, and heading back for Hogwarts. Not before he flashes you a quick wink, and you suddenly realise that he’s trying to give you some alone time with Jimin. Or maybe he’s trying to give Jimin some alone time with you. You’re not sure what to think, but you feel uncertainty digging its roots deep, planting you firmly on the spot - right beside Jimin. His presence is suddenly incredibly distracting, feeling his heat so close beside you, battling against the cold autumn evening. His breath billows clouds on the air, his dark eyes blinking curiously at you, pleading.

‘Alright, fine. Just a quick look!”

Jimin grins, and you allow him to pull you to the Shrieking Shack that stands, creaking, on its own, ostracised from the other buildings in Hogsmeade. The building is rounded off by a rickety fence, casting a shadow over you. A cold fear trickles down your back, but you steel yourself, determined not to make a fool of yourself in front of Jimin.

Jimin gives you a leg-up over the fence, before climbing over himself, and suddenly, there’s nothing separating you from whatever might reside in the house. A cold wind tugs at your hair and scarf, pulling away your frozen breath.

Your fingers are threaded through Jimin’s. You don’t remember grabbing him. He squeezes your fingers.

You walk forward together, slowly. At the door, Jimin murmurs a spell, and the door creaks open on unstable hinges. Inside, the house is dark, and the strong smell of mildew rises to meed your nostrils.

“Maybe we shouldn’t go in,” you whisper, trying to steady your shaking voice, “We’ve got close enough.”

“No, come on,” Jimin hisses, pulling you closer. Swallowing your fear, you follow after him, huddled close for comfort. The house feels colder than the outside breeze, and your fogged breath clouds your vision.

As you step further into the bowels of the house, your ears pick up on a hissing, muttering sound. Your freeze, paralysing fear sinking its claws into your spine, and Jimin pauses beside you, hand damp in your own. Straining your ears beyond the pounding of your own heart, you hear – yes, those are definitely voices.

Carefully, cautiously, Jimin leads you forward, down the corridor to the door that is partially open, where the voices emanate from. Pressing his finger to his lips, Jimin peers around the door to find…

A group of sixth years smoking cigarettes. As the door swings open, revealing you and Jimin, one of them glances up and then nudges the other one, “Hey, look what we got here.”

“Oi,” the other, who seems to be the more authoritative, stands up, “Scram.” He makes a grab for his wand, but you and Jimin don’t need any more prodding. Turning on your heels, you flee for the door.

You and Jimin don’t stop running until you reach the entrance to Honeydukes, shuddering out shaky laughter that fogs the cold air.

Jimin’s hand is still in yours, not having let go through the entire experience. You don’t comment as he keeps his fingers laced through yours as you walk back to Hogwarts.

✽ ✽ ✽

[Fourth Year – October 31st]

The school is abuzz this year. Your professors have decided to host a ball on Halloween night, which all of the older students are allowed to attend. It won’t just be any kind of ball, but a masquerade ball, in keeping with the tradition of wearing costumes for Halloween.

Excitement shoots through your veins as you get ready for the night. You’re incredibly happy with the dress which your parents had sent to Hogwarts. It’s purple with a skirt that flares out and shimmers in the light, seemingly changing colour dependant on the light that strikes it’s folds and frills, shifting through shades of blue and aquamarine. You take one last look at your hair in the mirror, tucking a stray strand behind your ear, before you put on your mask of purple lace, matching your dress.

Your roommate, Padma, helps you tie the silk ribbon keeping your mask in place, and gives you a smile. “You look amazing.”

Blushing, you glance down to the floor, unsure how to take the compliment. “Thanks, you too.”

Her face flushes with happiness before she walks away to help Beatrix with her dress. Satisfied with your appearance as you cast one last glance over your reflection, you make your way out into the Slytherin common room. From the common room window, you can see the full moon shining on the surface of the Hogwarts lake.

You spot Jimin, despite his mask, immediately. He’s wearing a dark suit, with a black shirt and tie, and a black mask to match. Sneaking up behind him where he’s standing with a group of other Slytherin boys, you give him a tap on the shoulder.

He turns around, and a smile spreads across his features, “Wow, look at you!” He picks you up and spins you around, while you squeak his arms. “You look amazing.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you giggle as he sets you down again, breathless.

You catch a flush of colour beneath his mask, and your mind flicks back to Taehyung, who’s been dropping hints that Jimin has a crush on you for most of the past year. You’ve been trying to ignore him, but you can’t help but notice the small hints Jimin gives out without meaning to. The thought of him crushing on you fills you with a warm, happy glow. It’s nice to feel liked, and you silently find yourself hoping – wishing – that it might actually be true.

Of course, you haven’t done anything to confirm it, not ready to put him – or yourself – on the spot. But moments like this make you all the more curious.

“Come on,” Jimin motions to you as the crowd of Slytherins begin meandering to the great hall.

You thread your fingers through his, and let him lead you along the corridors to the Great Hall, happiness fizzing pleasantly in your stomach at the touch of his hand in your own.

As you make your way into the Great Hall your breath leaves your lungs. Even after four years, when you think you’re used to all that magic has to offer, it throws another glittering spectacle your way. The entire hall is cloaked in a purple glow as the sky above your head opens up to the marvel of glowing colours from the northern lights. You know that the real sky won’t have the aurora borealis shining outside, yet it has somehow been summoned to light one room in Hogwarts castle. The whole hall is filled with sparkling streamers, and candles cast a warm glow against the cool lights shining from the sky that makes up the enchanted roof.

“Hey, look,” Jimin nudges you, “Your dress matches the sky.”

You look down at your dress, the purples and blues swirling in the seams of the material and smile. “Well it would be a shame not to go dancing when I look so good in this light,” you say, and Jimin grins, letting you lead him towards the centre of the hall, where a few other students have started dancing.

Holding onto Jimin’s arms, stronger than your remember, you spin around the dance floor, held close to his warmth.  The sky above your head is a glittering shimmer of different colours, ghosting past your eyes, with your gaze fixed on Jimin. His face is mostly obscured by his mask, but his eyes are clear to you, fixed on your own - dark pools of emotion that you can reach, interpret, if you just give yourself one moment of vulnerability. If you just give yourself one shimmering moment of honesty.

Your eyes rip away from Jimin’s, your face blushing, unsure of the feelings that you’re encountering. You notice Taehyung in your periphery vision. He’s standing at the edge of the dance floor, with a mug of butterbeer in his hand. Normally, you know that he would run over to you and Jimin, a grin on his face and a greeting on his tongue, but he seems to sense the same shimmering uncertainty hovering between you and Jimin. As he stands quiet at the edge of the dance floor, he gives you a wink, and then weaves his way back into the crowd.

This is what he’s been trying to encourage all this time – one moment of vulnerable honesty, where both you and Jimin open up enough to realise what’s so obvious to anyone else. You’re tired of waiting for confirmation.

Tipping your chin up, you push your lips to his in a rush of courage, almost as if you had drunk Felix Felicis. You can feel surprise rolling through his body, as he keeps his hold on you. Slowly, easily, he melts into your kiss. His lips open to yours, and with a whirling head, you give yourself over to the desires you had been ignoring for so long, fingers finding purchase on the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Your nerves conduct a symphony of excitement as everything you had needed was understood and relinquished to you in that moment.

As you part, both breathless, both smiling, you say,“Shall we step outside – just to get some fresh air?”

Jimin follows your cue, with an “Absolutely,”, walking after you as you weave your way through the crowds, out the door of the Great Hall, and towards the exit of the castle. The air is cold as you step out, and your shiver in the gauze of your shimmering dress, beautiful, but useless at protecting against the chill.

Seeing you trembling, Jimin removes his blazer and places it over your shoulders. You breathe deeply, enjoying the fresh crisp edge in your lungs.

Outside, with the real stars shimmering above you, unmasked from the aurora borealis that shimmered in the Great Hall, you turn to Jimin. You remove your mask, glad to let the cool air fall onto your cheeks.

Jimin takes off his mask as well, and you rake your eyes over his expression, hunting for a hint of regret at the kiss you had shared. There’s nothing but joy in his face.

As the rest of the school parties inside, you and Jimin share your hearts out in the cold.

✽ ✽ ✽

[Fifth Year – October 31st]

Jimin is taking Halloween celebrations very seriously this year. After all – it’s not just Halloween, it’s also your anniversary. One year of being a couple.

That’s why, when the Halloween Feast ends, instead of heading back to the common room, he leads you out of the school, sneaking through back passages and hallways until you’re outside, with the brisk wind whipping your hair.

“Where are we going?”

Jimin keeps throwing you knowing glances, pushing his fingers to his lips.

Impatience bubbles below your skin, but you allow him to lead you on to the edge of the lake, where you find a spread of your favourite snacks and drinks on a checkered picnic blanket, surrounded by candles that suddenly flicker on with the murmur of a spell.

“I hope you saved room for desert like I told you to.”

“Wow, Jimin,” you kneel down on the blanket, absorbing the array he’s arranged. “This is wonderful!”

“I hoped you would like it,” you can barely see it, but in the candle light, you notice a faint blush on his cheeks.

“I love it,” you assure him, leaning across  to give him a kiss on the cheek, and the blush deepens.

You allow yourself a few tastes of the of sweets that Jimin has provided, including the apple and redcurrant tart that is, magically, still warm, before lying back on the picnic blanket, snuggling up to Jimin, who provides an arm wrapped around you to fend off the chill.

As you stare up at the cloudless sky, with stars winking down at you, a wave of satisfaction spreads through your chest. You wish you could pause your life at this moment, bound by Jimin’s arms.

“Thanks for an amazing year, Jimin,” you murmur, and you feel his grip around you tighten a little, as he squeezes you.

“Thank you too. Here’s to many more.”

With no once but the stars watching down, you lean in to kiss him, pulling him closer. His body is firm and warm, a perfect distraction from the cold air that presses in from all other sides. After a year, you have so many emotions to share with him, so much love to give him.

✽ ✽ ✽

[Sixth Year - October 31st]

On the sixth year, your year group is allowed to go on a short school trip to a castle nestled in the mountains. The main goal of the school trip is learning of the history of some magical relics that were discovered around the area, as well as observing rare magical creatures that live in the area for your Care of Magical Creatures course.

The part you have been looking forward to the most is the Halloween celebrations. While you’ll be missing the normal Halloween feast, your teachers have allowed you your own room in the castle, where you can have a party with your year group.

The small room in the castle is cozy and cheerful, with a fire flickering in the hearth, and a tables piled high with food, making your mouth water and your eyes glisten.

When you and Jimin walk into the room together, your hand finds his, squeezing in excitement.

Taehyung walks up behind you, and throws an arm over each of your shoulders. “How are my favourite love-birds?”

Jimin laughs, “We’re good. You enjoying the school trip?”

“Sure… Although our group didn’t see anything exciting when we went orienteering. I swear the way the teachers spoke about it, I was certain that this place would be swarming with unicorns, But I suppose, even in areas where they’re more common… they’re still pretty rare.”

You bite your lip, not sure if telling Taehyung that the group you and Jimin were with managed to spot a young unicorn while you were out. Instead you say, “Isn’t this a nice change of pace from the normal Halloween feast?”

Taehyung looks around the room, a nostalgic smile on his face. “Yeah, it’s nice. Really nice... It’s strange to think that this is our penultimate year at school. It doesn’t feel that long ago we were just getting sorted into our houses.”

You feel Jimin’s squeeze your fingers. “Yeah, it’s going to be so strange when we have to leave,” he says.

“We’ll all stay friends when we leave Hogwarts though, right?” you say, and without any hesitation both Jimin and Taehyung answer - “Absolutely.”

✽ ✽ ✽

That night, you hear a knock on your dormitory door. Cracking it open, you peer out to find Jimin outside. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Jimin, you know we’re not meant to visit other students’ rooms at night,” you chide teasingly.

“I know, but I wanted to see you. Can I come in?” You peer up and down the corridor, but the entire hallway appears empty.

You nod, and let him in. The rooms you’ve been allocated at the castle are large, almost as big as the dorm rooms you’re assigned at Hogwarts, but you don’t have to share this one with other Slytherin girls. A large four-poster bed stands at the centre of the room, where you will be spending the night.

Excitement leaps up to your stomach as you realise that you’re alone in a bedroom with Jimin for the first time in a long time. Your professors are normally strict about students mingling in the dormitories at Hogwarts, so it’s difficult to get any intimate alone time.

You know the same thing is on Jimin’s mind, as his eyes fall to the bed. With a grin, you lead him over to soft mattress,  frosted by the thick duvet. Pulling him under the covers, you wrap your arms around him, your lips finding his in the dark. As he gets lost in the heat of your body, you murmur your love to him, whispered into the empty darkness beyond the haven of your bed. You learn new ways to know him, discovering new parts of him. The night stretches out to infinity, wobbling, and then collapsing with your secretly shared ecstasy.

✽ ✽ ✽

[Seventh Year - October 27th]

As it’s your final year at Hogwarts, some of your year have been tasked with helping to organise events. Of course, Jimin offered to organise the Halloween Feast, but now, as the night creeps closer, you can see he is getting more and more nervous.

When he comes back to the common room after another planning meeting, his tension automatically translates for you with a sigh, as he flops onto one of the chairs and rubs his eyes.

“You doing okay?” you ask, although you know he’s not.

His hair flops over his furrowed brows as he hangs his head. “It’s fine. I just… I want to make this Halloween Feast the best it’s ever been, and I don’t know if it’s all going to come together the way I want...”

You make you way to the back of his chair, and begin to massage the tense muscles in his shoulders. “I’m sure it’ll be amazing.”

“But don’t you see?” Jimin looks up at you, straining his neck, “This is going to be the last Halloween Feast we have at Hogwarts. It’s got to be amazing! Or I’ll let you down.”

“No matter what, if I get to celebrate it with you, it’ll be amazing,” you reassure him, bending to plant a kiss on his forehead.

He smiles, and you feel his muscles relaxing against you. “Well, no matter what, you’ll be in for a treat, I promise.”

“I always am, when I get to spend all my days with you.” You plant a kiss on his lips this time, feeling him smile into you.

✽ ✽ ✽

[Seventh Year – October 31st]

The day of the Halloween Feast rolls around, and you meet Jimin in the common room, both dressed up, ready for the feast.

Jimin’s face melts into a soft smile, seeing you, with your hair tied back, and your gown billowing out around you as you run up to hug him. You can smell his cologne as you pull away from him, dizzying you, as it clings to your clothing – a reminder that he held you close.

“You ready for this?” you ask, and he gives you a nod, hand squeezing at your own.

You let him lead you down the hallways to the Great Hall. You take in every detail, knowing you’ve got a limited time left to appreciate the unique crevices of Hogwarts, with the twisting staircases, and the curious paintings. You’re not sure what will happen once you graduate. Will you have to go back to a non-magical life with your parents? Or will you get to stay in the world of magic, using the skills you’ve learnt in potion making, divination, and spell casting?

Jimin’s hand grips yours tightly, and you know he’s thinking of what will happen after you leave as well.

As you step into the Great Hall, your worries are quickly swept away.

The Great Hall has been completely transformed. Candles float in the air, burning flames of blue and orange, sparking up to the sky, which burns golden from the setting sun. Crystals dangle down from the ceiling, cascading light across the hall. The tables have strings of lights shining around them. At first glance they appear to be fairy lights, but when you look closer you realise they are actually specks of light floating on their own, like fireflies. Pumpkins sit on the table surrounded by flowers, and sprigs of ivy cascade down the table legs.

“You really outdid yourself,” you tell Jimin in a hushed tone of reverence, “This is beautiful.” He glows with pleasure as you sit down at the Slytherin table.

You feel a poke behind you, and turn in your seat to see Taehyung, who’s stopped on his way to the Hufflepuff table. He grins at you, “Amazing, whoever worked on this did an amazing job.” He grins at you, while Jimin flushes at the indirect complement.

Clasping a hand on Jimin’s shoulder, Taehyung says, “Good job, for real,” before he’s ushered along by some other Hufflepuffs who are trying to get to their seats.

The night seems to go by in a blur of dazzling lights and delicious food. You sit back in your chair, as a house elf comes around offering tea and mints after the dinner. “This was amazing,” you tell Jimin. “I’m sad it’s our last Halloween at Hogwarts. I want to do this all again”

Jimin nods, “It doesn’t need to be the last amazing Halloween we have together though.”

You smile. “Of course not.”

“Hey,” Jimin shuffles in his chair, “I know you might want to go to university after this, but… what would you say if, after all that… we moved in together?”

You blush, thinking it over. You and Jimin have been together for so long, it only seems like a natural conclusion that you would end up together after this. Yet, it seems difficult to imagine what it will be like to be with Jimin outside of Hogwarts, in a hazy future. All you know is that if Jimin’s a part of your life, then the days will be bright.

Without giving it any more thought, knowing exactly what you want, you say, “Yes. I’d like that very much.”

✽ ✽ ✽

[Four Years after Graduating from Hogwarts - October 31st]

It’s the day of the Halloween party – the Halloween party that Jimin has become famous among for hosting at his house. Somehow, without you noticing, late afternoon has slunk in, and you’re helping Jimin add the last finishing touches to your house, making sure all the foods are ready for when guests arrive.

You look around at the spread of food crammed on the small kitchen table. “Not too bad, Park Jimin” you say, giving him an approving smile.

“Well, I couldn’t have got it all done on time without your help,” Jimin says, making his way over to sweep you into a hug. He smells of spices and vanilla from helping you to bake in the kitchen. There’s flour on his hands, which has definitely ended up on your jumper. Nothing a little bit of magic won’t fix.

“Hey,” he pulls away from you, “I was going to ask after the party, but I’m too excited to wait.”

You furrow your brows, wondering what he’s getting at.

He licks his lips, looking down at you, and you see his Adam’s apple bob. “I was wondering...” he pauses, and your hearts starts thudding against your rib cage.

“How would you feel about marrying me?” JImin asks, eyes searching yours.

You don’t give him any moment of hesitation or uncertainty. You’re already pressing a kiss to his lips before your remember directing your body to do so. “I’d want nothing more!” you murmur as you part.

“Good,” he laughs, nuzzling your neck as you hold him close. “Now I won’t have to return the ring I bought you.”

✽ ✽ ✽

After you wave off the party that evening, Taehyung being the last to leave as per usual, Jimin pulls you into the living room, where the remains of the party still linger in the form of dishevelled decorations, and the last crumbs of the snacks you baked.

“Well, did I manage to out do all the Halloweens you’ve had?” Jimin asks as you both snuggle up on the sofa.

“You definitely have,” you assure him, “I mean… you proposed to me!”

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to do even better by actually marrying you next year,” he retorts.

“October wedding?”

“Definitely.”

“I’d like that a lot.”

✽ THE END ✽

[crown-anon]

@hearts1ck my beloved

November 1st

CW: explicit; more CWs under the cut

format: one-shot

people: GeorgeNotFound

pronouns: he/him; reader has male anatomy; more specifics under the cut

edited 14 March 2021

anonymous asked

consider. okay. CONSIDER. consider masochist george. okay?? okay. okay LISTEN.

I think I have a problem with gimmicks also. because. because. ever since strawberry milk george, I. I have not stopped thinking about strawberry flavored lube. because! listen okay hear me out.

(this is absolutely 110% a response to discovering that you share a birthday with him. what of it?)

I know everyone likes pillow princess george and. that's okay. that's FINE. these are not mutually exclusive.

george looking up at you with The LookTM wearing some pink strawberry milk lingerie. not even lingerie really! just something cute like that

& him being like. "I know you love me 👉👈 but I need you to fuck me like you don't"

so I was. thinking. that brat george is the exact kind of person to say (playfully & consensually) "but I don't wanna give you head, I just wanna fuck >:(" after you've got him worked up, maybe from teasing him throughout the day, or edging him a little. but you still need some type of lube. so you go to apply the first bottle you see and he's pink when he asks you "😳 is that ... strawberry ... ?" and you're confused like ??? bro you just asked me to fuck you into next week why're you interested in the flavored lube

but. but listen. he would get so enthusiastic about it. at first it's just "maybe I can stand to eat them out just a little bit before ..." and then after you come the first time it devolves really, really quickly into the need to just. take care of you. and it stretches on until you've come three or four times, and you're still shaking, and he's just. completely gone in subspace

hmm ... george climbing up onto your lap when he's done with you, going in to give you a kiss, and he tastes like strawberry. and he ends up moaning right into your mouth because he's been so horny but so? understimulated?? that he outright jumps as soon as his dick grazes your thigh. it would only take a couple stuttery grinds before he's finishing on both of your stomachs

and he's just so cute when comes, or when he bites down on your shoulder to keep himself quiet. and it's your birthdays. so, you decide you'll give him a reason to cry. and he'll finally get put in his place! it's a win-win for both of you!!

istg every time I send you an ask I discover something new about myself. you. you have made a dreamteam simp out of me. I am but a shell of the man I once was. I think I should thank you? [👑]

hearts1ck

i say this nearly every time you send stuff in but...... by god you own my soul. all of it. this – i – first of all, the implications of masochist george losing his fucking mind when you’re rough with him? guhhhfjklgjgf. and ,..d,,f,,, ,, ,, george in pink lingerie. i. i . a... pink satin slip maybe or .... ohghfd; oh my god those. that cat panty/bra set. im ascending im losing my brain as i type this i cannot –

okay im back on earth. he’d get into that rhythm and settle like liquid while he gets to work on you, and his subspace face is so self-satisfied and nearly smug so he’s just having the time of his life,,, and he makes such a loud noise when his dick twitches against your thigh and maybe... JUST MAYBE he whimpers extra watery when you drag his hips to grind against where you’re wet and dripping/your spent cock as if he’s the one who’d get overstimulated by it. when he finally leans away, eyelids heavy, you gently fit your hand over his jaw and ask, “did you even ask? it’s one thing to come without permission, but not even caring to ask? georgie, i might just be offended,” and he whines “green”s against your neck before you even check-in

and because u made it abt both of our birthdays ,,,, spanks for each year we’ve been alive methinks ??? and then the scratch down his ass gets him hard again and he’s so embarrassed by it, ,,, , ,, ,, ,, ,, ,

also thank god you’ve joined the george boat. i’m so proud of myself for hopefully being part of the reason you got dragged over here HJFKDHSKD

#👑 anon #(my beloved) #keep #anon thoughts: george #redsick #SHAWTY WANT THE WHOLE CREW SHAWTY BAD

as soon as you said birthday spanks I decided I had to write more about this. and I was going to leave more snippets in your askbox like the fucking gremlin creature I am, but then my thoughts started. actually having structure? and then I started writing it. and I tried to do homework and write on study breaks only but. I just kept coming back to this. this is the polar opposite of writer's block. I think I'm cursed or something. so here I am rushing to finish this so that I may rest in peace!!

yes I've been writing nonstop since I sent you that ask. what of it. what the fuck of it.

when I said I discover something new about myself every time we interact, I. I'm serious. I think I might be insane or something. I'm way too sadistic. you'll see. what the fuck is this? what the fuck did I just write??

this would have done so much critical psychic damage if I had posted it on November 1st in real life, but mental illness says I can't let my horny thoughts rattle around in my brain for that long. so!! it's you guys's problem now xoxoxo

I'm not fucking proofreading this. love you though 💗

I did end up proofreading actually. oops! looks like posting at 23:00 isn't always a good idea.

November 1st

CW: explicit, anal (kind of vague), bondage (collar + leash), corruption, domspace (I think??), edging, handjob, humiliation, masochism, oral, praise, sadism, spanking, subspace, swearing. I call George a whore and a slut at least once. and also, George calls yellow at one point. this one kind of surprised me so just. Be Careful. I cannot believe I wrote this. I don't know where this came from.

format: one-shot

people: GeorgeNotFound

pronouns: he/him; I use the word "sir;" reader has male anatomy; I use the words "cock," "dick," and "head;" reader can ejaculate

—

dawn shines through drawn curtains, illuminating the tile floor and your robed figure reflecting off it. batter sizzles in the skillet as you flip the last pancake over. this side looks golden brown, like honeycomb or caramelized sugar. that delicious, freshly-baked fragrance mingles with scented candles. it's perfect, you smile. he's going to love it.

you lift the pancake with a spatula, stacking it on top of the others on his plate. you bring it to his seat at the table, along with the butter, the syrup, the honey, the jam…and you go to pour him a drink.

"hey baby," you greet warmly to the sleepyhead rubbing his eyes in the entryway, still clinging to a pillow. his hair's a mess, only wearing socks and a sweatshirt that reaches down past his thighs. you reckon he'd only just crawled out of bed.

"morning…" he yawns, stumbling past you to take his seat.

"milk?" you ask, he only nods. "did you sleep okay?"

he hums affirmatively. "I…can we…"

one track mind, you joke inwardly. but you don't blame him. "of course," you open the fridge.

you hear him pause. "…is it too early for that?"

"no, no!" you give him a lighthearted laugh. "I kind of expected it, to be honest…I want it, too."

he's silent under the noise of you rummaging through the fridge. "I—"

"sorry—it looks like all we have is strawberry milk. is that alright?"

"yeah…yeah, that's alright. I…actually…wanted to try something new." you shut the fridge, he's fidgeting in his seat.

"hit me with it," your expression is gentle. you pass his cup off to him, but he holds his hand over yours a little too long, looking up at you.

"fuck me like you hate me."

you don't know if it's hearing him swear, or the way he said it so calmly, or how he closed his eyes and swallowed hard before his tone could dip down into something lower. but like a match in an torrent of gasoline, suddenly you're burning up.

you only realize you're staring when he bites his lip and looks down. you start to say something, but the words don't form.

he laughs nonthreateningly, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. "is that a yes?"

you laugh with him. "I…yes, absolutely yes." you turn back around to make your own stack of pancakes. "you should eat first, though."

"what?" he teases. "will I need the energy?"

you smile. "yeah. I think you will." you can practically feel him open his mouth in protest, but he stays silent after that.

and it stays mostly silent while you cook your pancakes. you hear the clinking of his fork on his plate, but it isn't very disruptive. it sounds like he's hurrying to finish his food.

when you go back to the table with your own platter, he's already done eating. he's red down to his neck, fidgeting with the hem of his sweatshirt, looking at you expectantly. you spot a pair of tassels peeking out from under it, just below his hip bones. is that…

he pulls the hem up just a bit, holding your gaze. he smiles, apparently satisfied watching your face heat up.

"I—you should go…go get ready," you manage. he gets up before you even finish your sentence, only stopping to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

except it isn't quick, when he slides his hand down to rest firmly on your collar, and leans in to trail kisses down your neck. "a-and leave that on," you stutter.

he pauses, just under your jaw. "leave what on?" he murmurs.

your breath catches, you shut your eyes. "whatever the fuck it is you're wearing under there."

he's hardly grazing your skin, but you can feel how hot he is next to you. it takes all of your willpower not to shiver.

he pulls back quickly, only his hand lingering. "I don't know what you're talking about." and just like that, he disappears into your bedroom.

you reach up a hand tentatively to your collar, hot to the touch. I'm in way too deep, you decide, and force yourself to take a bite of your food despite your nerves.

—

"that," you hiss. "that fucking outfit. that."

"oh, this?" he bites his lip, hooking his thumb in the keyhole. "this's just what I went to bed in last night."

"fuck you. we both know that isn't true."

he tugs gently on his top, pulling it a little to the side. "what's the big deal? can't I wear something special for my birthday?"

"it's special, all right," and you leave it at that, opting instead to slot between his legs where he sits waiting on the edge of the bed. you bring up a hand to cup his jaw, brushing your thumb across his cheek. you'll never get enough of the way he looks at you, like you're intoxicating.

…? you frown.

"is something…missing?" he perks up instantly at "missing."

"what…?" he chooses his words carefully.

"the collar—your collar. where is it?" you turn away to start going through your bedside table, but the way his lips quirk up into a sly smile isn't lost on you.

that's lube…that's a vibrator…where the fuck is it…? "w-what collar?" he stumbles over his words.

your mind jumps to say, the collar that came with that outfit, or I know you know what I'm talking about, but you won't give him the satisfaction. you decide to speak a little darker, only a firm "George." you hear him swallow.

"w-well," his voice is shaky, "you only told me to leave on whatever I was wearing under my shirt. and…I wasn't wearing that collar at breakfast…s-so technically…"

you stop looking immediately. you turn to take him in, legs crossed, stance confident, but expression showing uncertainty. you can see the regret on his face. "get up." he takes a shallow breath. "get up."

"I'm—"

"don't I'm sorry me," you snap. "you look for your fucking collar on your own."

he slips off the bed, looking ashamed, but starts digging through the drawer all the same. "I really am sorry," he murmurs. you take his place sitting on the bed. he finds what he's looking for rather quickly: a simple white leather collar with a bell, and a leash. he hands them off to you shyly. "um, here…"

"good boy," you praise. "kneel."

he shuts his eyes and does as he's told. you can see the bliss wash over his face just at being ordered around. his lips part a little as he lets out a heavy breath. if only I knew what this would do to him, you muse, I'd have done this ages ago.

you fasten the collar, revelling in how he shivers at the gentle sensation of cold leather hanging around his neck. you leave it a little bit loose, but still comfortable, and hook the leash in its place. he sits obediently still on his knees, looking deep in thought.

"Oh, I know what I'm gonna do to you," you bait. "how old are you today?"

"mmm. twenty-five." he looks down.

you smile, holding tight onto the leash. "I'm gonna edge you. twenty-five times."

he flinches away immediately, yet hums in pleasant surprise when the leash snaps taught. the bell jingles stiffly. "no way. that's way too much."

"I think you should've thought about that before you wore that to breakfast," you decide, tugging a little. he's caught off-guard and stumbles forward, stopping himself by leaving a clumsy pair of kisses on the inside of your thigh. the metal and leather feel refreshingly cool against your feverish skin. "we've got all day, baby."

you expect to hear some kind of protest, you're crazy. or a playful taunt, I'm better off doing this by myself. but he knits his brows and openly moans at the thought. "all day…" he repeats.

he looks up at you, almost pleading, and you can hear the resignation in his voice when he whispers "alright."

"get up here," you command. "on top of me." as he climbs up into your lap, a little too eagerly, you add, "and take your dick out."

you shrug your robe off your shoulders while he's working on his panties, and without thinking, you ask, "color?"

he stops, leaving his head poking cutely over the waistband. he looks up at you again. "…what?"

"um…color," you explain. "like, how are you doing? is this okay? I don't actually want to hurt you. uhhh…green means good, yellow means slow down, and red means stop."

he stifles a laugh. "you're such a nerd. I'm okay."

"alright." you blush a little. "we can stop whenever you need to. this is for you…" you think of something horribly unsexy to say. "…birthday boy."

now he's really laughing, with his whole body. you think the way it makes his collar jingle is cute. "oh my god. shut up. just shut up," his expression turns serious, and he drops to a whisper, "and fuck me."

that got you hot again. you pull him by the leash into a kiss, you bite his lip, you eat him up. and you grab the both of you together with your other hand, you moan in tandem. you can feel how you took him by surprise in the way he twitches under your thumb, the way he leans into you with his whole body. you part from the kiss and he leans back on his heels, panting hard, holding on to your shoulders for support. you can feel him shaking a little.

when you move your hand all the way up the first time, you squeeze both of your heads gently, and he practically falls into you. muffled in the crook of your neck, he begs, "god, do that again."

so you do. again. and again. what was a string of stuttered breaths turns into a single broken moan as you jerk the both of you off. when you think you're getting close, you let go of yourself to focus all your attention on him.

"fuck, sir," he whines—hahaha, that sir made your cock leak a little. he shut his eyes tight. "I-I-I think—I think I'm—"

just like that, you stop, and he goes slack, practically laying on you. but he doesn't grind back, or even move to touch himself. that won't last very long.

you let him come back down, knowing edging takes a lot out of you; maybe even more so than actually coming does. slowly but surely, his breathing steadies. you rub between his shoulderblades affectionately, still trying to ground yourself, too.

once you've found your voice again, you question, "are you gonna count for me?"

he makes a sound against your skin, somewhere between excitement and fear. "…o-one." you revel in how fucked-out he sounds already.

"one what?" you prod.

he seems at a loss, like he's forgotten himself, what he said. after a minute or two of pondering, he catches on. "…sir."

it's your turn to moan. your dick jumps at the honorific, still mostly untouched against your stomach. "good boy." and you dive back in. twenty-four to go.

—

it's noon. you're working on nineteen. and your partner's getting much more…expressive. he's started biting his hand to keep himself quiet, but he's still…

"I-I—oh fuck, I'm—fuck, I-I'm—I'm—" he whimpers through his teeth. and he yelps, whole body shaking, bell jingling incessantly, when he comes all over your hand and stomach.

you take your hand off him immediately, and this time he does try to reach down, ride through it, but you grab both his wrists to stop him. he grinds down uselessly against your thigh and your dick. although you're still hard, and only a hairline trigger away from coming yourself, it doesn't stop you from keeping this brat in line. you only bite your lip and close your eyes.

he leans his forehead against yours, moving in to give you a kiss, but you push him away.

"did you never learn how to fucking count?" you growl.

he winces. "I-I-I-I'm…I'm sorry—"

you scowl at your hand, covered in come. "here, slut," you raise it up to his lips. "clean this off for me."

he tears up a little, but takes your fingers into his mouth all the same. pretty quickly, though, he spits them back out.

"it doesn't taste good…" he complains.

"oh? oh, it doesn't?" you mock. "but it felt good, when you came without my permission, like a cheap fucking whore."

a couple of tears spill over, roll down his cheeks, yet he says nothing, only moving back in to lap his come off your hand. you can see it in his expression that he's not very happy about it, but he doesn't protest further.

"is this good enough, sir?" he asks, when it seems that he's gotten it all. it looks clean enough, you agree. you grab him by the chin, hooking your thumb in his mouth. you don't even have to tell him to suck.

"you come without my approval again, and it's over. you can go back to playing minecraft—or what-the-fuck-ever—with your friends for your birthday. do you want to sleep on the couch, Georgie?"

if he wasn't crying before, he's definitely crying now. he doesn't shake his head, but he circles your fingertip with his tongue enthusiastically, as if to say, I'll be good, I'll be good this time, looking up at you doe-eyed.

"bend over for me," you demand. "across my lap."

he does so immediately. he slips a little bit while he's changing positions, you hear the bell ring, and he scrambles to correct himself. he settles with his ankles crossed and his head in his hands, propping himself up on his elbows. you feel a little bad, you admit, but you won't budge; he has a safeword, you trust that he'll use it.

"let's try that again," your tone softens. "I want you to count for me, okay?"

he nods.

you pull his panties to the side, pause briefly, and bring down your hand with a satisfying smack.

"ohhhhhh—" he moans, jolting a little. "—holy shit, did you just spank me?"

your stomach drops, you go to rub him gently where you just hit him. "is that okay—?"

"it's hot, it's so hot, fuck," he shifts in your lap. "um, sorry…one."

seriously, something about hearing him swear awakens something in you, every time. you're fired up. you spank him again.

"mmm—two…" is he…? "three…"

you pause to massage his ass again, and to speak. "you're…you're hard again, aren't you?"

you didn't even spank him yet, but he lets out a moan. "fuck, I—I just. I want you. I want this. so, so much."

you wonder if this is actually the same George who was fidgeting with his pillow in the dining room this morning.

"you're so bad, getting turned on by something like this," you tease. he only moans in response.

"four—five—six—seven…" he chokes out. "it's starting to sting…"

you take a break, kneading the skin where your angry red handprint is starting to take shape.

"eight…nine…but god, it hurts so good…" he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. "ten…"

at ten, you linger for a moment, holding a handful of his ass. "does it?"

"yes—yesyesyes," he buries his face in the pillow, and shivers. "fuck, eleven…twelve…"

you pull his panties down to his knees, and switch sides. he lifts his hips up, so I can reach him better, you guess. you don't miss the telltale glint of a butt plug, but you'll get to that later.

"thirteen—fourteen—fifteen—sixteen," he moans between slaps. he's gripping the pillowcase so hard his knuckles are white.

in this new position, the way he jumps with every hit makes his cock brush against yours just right. fuck, you're still hard from earlier. this time you're the one who whimpers.

"seventeen, eighteen," he pauses, breathless. you pull gently on his leash, he arches his back and moans, "n-nineteen." his bell jingles.

he grinds down, just for a moment, and the friction is delicious. you're a little dizzy, you think you might've thrust back. you both sigh at the feeling.

"…t-twenty…see? I-I can count…I'm a good boy…I'm good for you…aren't I?"

"you are," you murmur, but you aren't sure he hears you. "you're so good…"

"twenty-one—twenty-two…I-I feel like I haven't done anything right today…twenty-three…"

"…George…?" you hear a muffled sob.

"twenty-four…" he mumbles.

"George?" you start to get concerned. he just keeps crying. "hey…" you whisper. you gently prompt him to turn him over; the pillow's a little wet. you pull the panties off all the way, and get him out of the bra, which had a little stray come on it. you help him sit up in your lap, and pull him into a hug.

"am I really just a whore…?" he asks brokenly.

"you've been so good for me, baby. you've done everything I've asked." you wipe his tears away with your thumb. "are you okay?"

"but I—" he coughs. "—I came too soon, I came without your permission…"

you kiss his hair, and hold him to your chest. "you've been so patient. I'm proud of you."

he finally wraps his arms around you. "I-I'm sorry."

"nonsense," you reassure. "your comfort takes priority. are you okay? color?"

"I…" he searches for the words. "I dunno. yellow? I…that hurt, I think. being…degraded?"

you comb through his hair with your fingers. "I understand. thank you for telling me. I love you."

—

you stay like that for a minute. you grab him a snack and a drink, but for the most part, you just enjoy each other's company, tangled-up together. you don't bother putting your clothes back on.

it's later in the evening. you're straddling him, peppering his shoulders with kisses, and he's giggling underneath you. he turns over to give you a short and sweet kiss.

"baby?" he says, looking expectantly.

"what is it?" you sit back on your heels.

he hesitates. "…I wanna keep going. from earlier."

you're serious again. "are you sure you're okay?" you grab his hand, bringing it up to kiss his fingertips. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm alright," he assures. "I remember you promising me an all-day thing, though."

you blush, a little surprised by his forwardness. "of course. I think…I…" you laugh. "I wanna fuck you."

"yeah?" he smiles, leaning up close. "show me how much."

you hold his jaw while you kiss him, biting his bottom lip between your teeth. he tastes like the coffee and cream you made him earlier. you feel his breath hitch. he reaches up to hold your shoulders.

you pull back. "hey, blow me first."

"what? why?" he giggled.

"it's been a couple hours, I'm not hard anymore," you coax. "I thought you liked taking orders?"

he cringed. "but come tastes gross!"

you slid off him and hopped off the bed, opening the drawer. "suit yourself. you get to watch me jack off, then."

"fine by me, I think you look good when you masturbate."

"ohhh, I forget, you're too blissed-out to pay attention to how I look when you're getting fucking owned."

"I am not!"

"you are too!" he sticks his tongue out at you.

you open the lid, pouring a little on your hand, a little on your cock. it's translucent pink, seems a little fragrant. you give yourself a couple of strokes with a sigh.

he's quiet for a second, then, shyly, "um…is that…strawberry flavored…?"

you bite your lip. "I thought you weren't gonna give me head?"

"I was just curious." it's a weak lie, but you say nothing.

your eyes are shut, but you can feel him moving around a bit on the bed, you hear his bell ring a couple times. you feel a hand on your thigh, so you decide to peek. and holy shit.

your partner's made his way to the floor, on his knees between your legs, holding his leash in his mouth, his fucking mouth, what the fuck. his thumb's rubbing circles on the inside of your thigh. the half-lidded look he's giving you should be criminal.

"you—I thought you said you wouldn't…" you can't find the words. you reach out and take the leash from his mouth. you see your hand shake in front of you.

"I'm just watching…" he whispers, looking up at you, mesmerized.

you're only able to get a couple of pumps in before he's joining you, hand over yours as you get yourself off. just the extra sensation of somebody else's touch is enough to make you bite back a moan.

"fuck—!" you jolt when he licks a stripe up the underside. he mouths over the head, jerking you off on his own now. you move to grip the sheets in one hand, his leash in the other. and you come without warning. you see it end up on his hand and your stomach before you shut your eyes tight.

he's quiet while you're coming down, just helping you ride it out, giving you kisses on your thighs. when you look back down at him, he's got two of his fingertips in his mouth, licking them clean. he stands up abruptly, it startles you a little. you see his bell ring. and he grabs you by the hips and leans down to your midriff.

"…I don't think I cleaned you off all the way earlier…" he breathes, and he starts to lap up the mess of his and your come that's been on you since this afternoon.

what the fuck. why is this so hot? why is he so hot? all too soon, your spent cock twitches in interest at your lover. he cups it with a hand, smiling against your tummy. you're so sensitive it hurts. you think you mean to say something, but nothing comes out.

"hmm…?" he bites his lip. "you still want some more?" all you can do is whine. at this point, you don't know if it's in protest or invitation.

you don't get the chance to find out either, because fuck, he's really going down on you now. you don't know what the fuck he's doing with his tongue, or where his gag reflex went, but at this rate you're gonna come again.

"George—George, baby, I—slow down, I-I'm—" you plead. his leash slips out of your hand, you tip your head back.

he swallows.

—

the last thing you remember is coming harder than you ever have in your life. you think you held him by his hair. you might've fucked his mouth a little. he's never let you come in his mouth before…fuck…

it's nighttime now. he's riding your thigh, got one of his legs slotted between yours. the friction between his knee and your overstimulated cock feels embarrassingly good. you're so dizzy, all you can articulate is a loud moan. you don't sound at all like you remember. his bell keeps ringing and ringing and ringing as he grinds against you.

he leans down, one arm holding your hip, the other keeping himself propped up. he bites your shoulder, hard, hard enough to bruise. he comes on both of your stomachs.

"George," you beg. you're losing your voice.

"mmmmmmsir," he slurs. "fuck me."

"George, I…" you don't know what you're saying. the end of your sentence turns into a whimper.

"you need me to get you hard again? you need me to rile you up?" he turns to kiss your jaw, feeling around for your dick. "like this?"

"George," you sound urgent, until he squeezes right around the head, and you forget what you were saying. you're pretty fucking close to forgetting who you are entirely.

he sits up on top of you, grinning. "love the way you say my name, sir."

that name. all it takes is the way he says that fucking name and you're ready to go again. you flip the two of you over, so that you're towering over him instead. "you still didn't. fucking. ask me. if you could come."

he giggles, a little crazed. he hooks his arms around his knees, hugging them to his chest.. "so what? so what? you gonna fuck me 'till I behave?"

"yes," you reach down, "I think I will." and you pull out the butt plug he (probably forgot he) had in all day.

"fuck—" he sobs. you watch his dick bob. precome drips into a pool on his stomach. "—green—green—so fucking green."

you're still sensitive from coming twice—you're pretty sure he is too. you lean down to give him a kiss, you moan into each other's mouths. he tastes like strawberries and his and your come. it is a little gross, you admit. but he's so tight and so fucking cute that you can't bring yourself to care. you part, and there's a line of salvia connecting the two of you.

"wait—" you say, but it comes out like a growl. "roll over."

he gets on his hands and knees, reaching back and spreading himself open for you. fuck.

you fuck him like that, holding the leash tight, loving the way he arches his back into the bed. the bell on his collar jingles incessantly.

you spank him, one last time.

"th-that's twenty-f-five—oh, fuck, sir," he growls, clinging on to the blankets for dear life.

you pin one of his hands in place and reach down to touch him. he starts laughing again.

"mmmmmmay I please come, sir? I—fuck—I'm so close, soclosesoclose," his breath stutters, you can hear the breaks in his voice. he buries his face in the blankets.

I'm close, you think, but the words don't make it out. "you're so good—you're so fucking good—come for me—fuck, come for me."

—

you're a mess. there's some drying solution of come and lube on your stomach. not to mention whatever the fuck's going on with your hair. your robe is discarded haphazardly on the floor. you think you've got a hickey, but you can't remember where.

actually, you're both a mess. he's also covered in come, sweat, and lube. he's got a red ring around his neck where you pulled him by the leash a little too hard. he's just covered in bruises. he clings to your arm, still fast asleep. you both passed out pretty quickly after…whatever that was, but you got back up a couple hours later. it doesn't look like he did, though.

actually, your whole bedroom is a mess. a blanket or two ended up discarded on the floor. there's an empty bottle of edible lube somewhere around here. your kitty lingerie set, still dirty, somehow ended up hanging in the closet. the first time you woke up you were both cuddling with a butt plug that you misplaced in the heat of the moment.

you don't think you've ever seen him like that. you can't even put it into words. you've never spanked him. he's never called you sir. you've never come in his mouth. he's never…begged for you like that before. you've never been so exhausted after coming that you both just, just fainted.

you feel lightheaded, and dead tired. you know you both must have gotten back up and gone at it at least a couple more times, but it's blurry, you can't remember. all you know is your vibrator's missing, and you feel…unusually empty, like you do the morning-after getting railed a little too hard.

last night…what the fuck happened last night?

you contemplate getting up, slipping your arm out of his embrace, pulling the covers back up around him, leaving to make breakfast. you're kind of disgusting, several hours after sex without cleaning up properly. you want to get yourselves some washcloths, maybe take shower together, or run him a bath. you know he's gotta be way more sore than you are.

you catch yourself staring, lost in thought; he just looks too cute when he's very clearly roughed up, but still sleeping soundly. and with the way he wanted…the way he needed you yesterday, you don't think he would want to wake up alone.

maybe it's okay if we sleep in a little longer.

you stroke his hair and whisper, "happy birthday, baby boy."

—

edited 14 March 2021