#i feel like there's less new knowledge than usual in an event but that makes sense

[bookwyrminspiration]

KOTLC Graphic Novel: B&N Virtual Event Summary

There are no spoilers

Shannon Messenger was accompanied by Stuart Gibbs, author of Spy School and other series, who asked the questions

Enjoy!

Event's theme was Iggy Celebration--Shannon chose to wear dark blue, as it's secretly her favorite Iggy

It's officially called Dark Blue Iggy in the books, but the actual color nomination from fans was "tardis blue". She couldn't use that for potential legal issues, but she knows it's actually Tardis blue, making it her favorite

Shannon can't take credit for Iggy's changing color

She'd made him pink in book 2, and so a fan at an event asked her what color he'd be in the next book

Shannon asked her what color she wanted him to be. This fan, dressed in head to toe purple, leaned in and very seriously said "Orange." So Iggy was orange

Opened it to fans after that--but sadly never got the name of that one fan to thank her properly ("Whoever you are girl in purple, thank you!")

Book 10 doesn't have an official release date because Shannon's still writing it (as fast as she can!)

Iggy's color options for Book 10 are still undecided as well

Shannon thanks everyone immensely for their patience; "it's my focus! I want to get to them as fast as possible," but she also wants the book to be good and worth the wait

"Naive Shannon thought the later I got into the series the easier the books would be to write. WRONG!"

she has so many planted seeds to keep track of and constantly feels the pressure to one up her previous books

"I kinda wish I'd set the bar a little lower from the beginning"

She can't make a perfect book; there's always going to be someone who doesn't like something

She's reached the point of realizing her plans, and it's a delicate balance. You don't want reveals to feel like they came completely out of left field, but also don't want them to be like "I guessed that six books ago"

Finding the balance between feeling earned and still surprising is a daunting task ahead of her; it's more labor intensive than she thought it'd be

Stuart Gibbs points out that even if it takes a while, Shannon gives us a lot of book per book, so it's worth it

Shannon never intended to write such long books; she used to say every time that the next one she'd get the hang of being concise and it would be shorter, but everyone stopped believing her by book four

Was a graphic novel adaptation ever part of her plans? Secretly yes--she started as an art major and loves seeing illustrated versions of her characters. The highlight of her year is the cover art, and graphic novels are entire books!

It was on her author bucket-list, but she wasn't sure it'd would be possible; some books just don't work as graphic novels and they're expensive for publishers

When she found out she got the adaptation she "did a happy dance I was very grateful no one could see"

How involved were you in this process? Very involved, since her publishers know she has an art background

They let her pick from writers who auditioned--she wasn't sure that was a great idea because she didn't know if she could be objective; "no, I wrote it this way because it needs to be this way!"

Celina "knocked it out of the park" with her audition

For Gabriella, the artist, she was exactly what Shannon was looking for; she wanted a new style--Jason Chan (the cover artist) is incredible, but she wanted the GN to be distinct and more illustrated

She describes the GN as "like Disney meets manga," cartoonish but not

Shannon gave notes on rough drafts, inked pages, and colored versions--she's sure they got sick of her notes by the end of it

She remembers thinking "certain Keefe jokes MUST make it in," but then seeing them in the visual format they realized "huh, this joke isn't funny anymore"

Anything that surprised you about the process? Definitely some of those Keefe jokes not working, but also the fact they had to split it. At first she thought they could work it all into one, but emotion takes longer to convey visually, and they were "robbing the heart out of the book" by trying to fit it in one

Shannon jokes everything she writes ends up longer than they expect

Do you have any idea about part two? It's in the works, but it's a herculean task for the artists, so it all depends on them; "do not blame them at all! this is a daunting, daunting, massive work load"

Shannon owes Gabriella "all the cookies ever"

it's a very tight timeline, so they'll share the release date when they have it, but for now just let the artist do their thing

Was it weird to spend so much time with book 1 again? Forget anything? Want to change anything? There were some sentences she wanted to rewrite--"a book is never done, it's just due"

Thought about adding Gisela in book one, since she wishes she'd introduced her then; she always knew she'd play a huge role, but thought it'd be more clever to not introduce her until she was ready to bring her into play.

Now she disagrees with that decision and wishes she'd been there from book one, but decided that "it's not bad the way she did it, but it would've been more elegant" so she didn't change it

Does Gibbs have anything he would change about his book? He says you don't always know which characters will catch on, some some that become important he wishes he spent more time with in the beginning--"if I'd done this in book one, I couldn't done this in book 7!"

Any movie news? Hollywood is so much hurry up and wait, a ladder with thousands of rungs; they got caught at the script stage when the writer's strike happened, and even though the strike ended that doesn't mean the gears start turning again immediately.

the script is the most important thing, especially since KOTLC would be a very expensive movie, so the more solid the foundation the better the chance they have of getting greenlit

Her fingers are crossed; she wants a movie/show, but she wants it to be a good movie/show

Fans often don't realize how much work it is and how out of the author's hands it is

Reader questions! (name spellings are to the best of my ability)

Celiana: what advice do you have for young authors? Focus on writing and enjoying that part of the process before publishing! Publishing is stressful and complicated

Shannon throws the question to Gibbs. He says a lot of the times fans tell them they don't like their writing, it's their first draft. "Well that would be the problem."

Very few people hit it out of the park on their first try. Editing is a super important part of the process!

Shannon writers her books weird (editing intensely as she goes because she's always behind on deadlines, and hopes to go back to normal one day), but before that she'd have 2 or 3 drafts each. Book 1 was draft 20, Exile was draft 3, Everblaze was 2.

Gibbs does about 10 drafts each (though admits his outlines process isn't nearly as rigorous as Shannon's)

Shannon reached a point where she said "I don't think I'm smart enough to do this alone anymore!" Her books are like houses of cards, and she simply doesn't have time for the drafts to fall apart

She and her team frequently painstakingly plan things out--and even then sometimes have to scrap things. Remember that scene we rigorously went through last week? "it's not working! Now what?"

Mary Claire: Was it hard for you to find a publisher? Yes. First she got an agent, as that's important when traditionally publishing. She got her at draft 13--said that while she loved the book and its idea, you could tell this was Shannon's first book.

They went through a few edits and thought draft 15 was the one, but she got LOTS of rejections

her confidence was shaken, and draft 16 turned into a mess

At draft 18 it was sold, and then they went through 2 more versions with an actual editor; "so so much rewriting..."

Gibbs tried to get published as a kid, but was rejected throughout all of his schooling, so "to heck with this! I'm going to Hollywood to write movies"...which was actually pretty similar

he came back to writing 15.5 years ago during the last writers strike--"hey maybe I should try this book thing again"

They don't share their experiences to scare you; it's worth it, but you have to love writing to be an author given how much work and rejection it is

That's why Shannon says to enjoy the writing stage as long as you can; you need to fall in love with writing and with your story and truly believe in it

Were you always reading as a kid? Writing stories? When did you decide to write a book? Shannon was very focused on art as a kid and wanted to be a Disney animator, but her art doesn't work for that; she can't draw what's in her head, she can only copy, which "makes me about as useful as a camera"

She thought she could learn the skill, but couldn't in art classes; she realized she was always going to be frustrated if she kept at it

She'd started college at 16 and now her life plan was falling to pieces, so her mom advised her to take a class for fun

it was a film class, since she thought she'd be able to watch TV for school

she was, but her teacher also encouraged her to go to film school since she could finally bring things out properly on the page how they were in her head

"You have a lot to learn, but I see something in you." "Cool, I'm a film major now. Answered!"

Turns out film is too collaborative for her and she wanted more control; "there's those book things, I guess I could try those."

She doesn't regret the journey

Addie: How do you et the ideas to write? Shannon wishes she had a tree that sprouted money and great ideas, but really ideas are everywhere and it's a matter of paying attention.

You don't need your whole idea all at once--can be small like "I wonder if that hat...wasn't a hat at all!"

She knew she wanted to work with elves, and she knew she wanted to strip the magic from the story in favor of sci-fi/superhero logistics. The rest came bit by bit

Some days she couldn't write fast enough, others it was "oo, what if they wore capes?"

Elizabeth: what do you do when you have writers' block? Shannon doesn't like to call it that because that makes it seem scarier than it is; to her it's just being stuck, and she plays the "what if?" game

What if I got rid of the previous scene? What if they went here instead? What if, what if, what if? Open yourself to new possibilities

Gibbs is a big going for a walk person for when you're stuck. We all get stuck, not just young writers. he also likes hiking--walking but not coming back for a while.

At this point a poll was sent to the audience asking them to choose between 5 pairs. Bolded won with percentage included afterwards

Teleporting or light leaping? (63%). Eternalia or Mysterium? (63%). Bathe a T-Rex or Pet a Verminion? (55%). Telepath or Empath? (62%). Cape or No Cape? (60%)

Shannon's surprised the Keefe fans didn't pull through with the Empath vote

No matter what Shannon writes, someone's going to be unhappy, so she started pulling back on appealing to fans and prioritizes what fits the story

Marissa: Will Iggy ever go back to grey? That's up to the readers! Shannon leaves it completely in our hands, so if we ever nominate and vote for grey, she'll write it.

Shannon thanks everyone for reading and being patient, as she's writing as fast as she can

When a book is released she usually celebrates with a dessert; she ordered a bunch of fall flavor donuts from Krispy Kreme today, so she's not sure if she'll save one for tomorrow or get something new

It's dangerous that she can just push a button and donuts will show up at her house (doordash)

Gibbs and Shannon hope everyone love the graphic novel as much as they do--and stay tuned for part 2!

[yridenergyridenergy]

Dir en grey interview translation notes around The Devil In Me

Just some of the more interesting bits from the single's booklet and from PHY vol. 25.

Kyo

He was the one who came up with the title, and the title was determined before they even attached a song to it. The band basically decided to set a date for a new single ahead of time, not too long after 19990120's release, then they had just one song selection meeting (usually, they have three) to pick a song to work with toward becoming "The Devil In Me". After scheduling a release date, they had to pick a title before even knowing what song would be part of that release for production/logistical reasons.

Kyo wrote the lyrics of The Devil In Me based on his sense of dissociation from world events, how his own issues are not aligned with what the world cares about. He finds that people's lives are sometimes pre-determined the moment they are born. It's really a reflection on: "Why am I the way I am?"

The chorus has so many layers because Kyo wanted to illustrate that inner evil, or wickedness.

While re-recording Yokan, Kyo realized that he used to sing in short bouts, taking a breath more regularly, whereas he's evolved to sing as much as he can in a single, long breath now.

The small changes made to the lyrics of Cage just serve to help Kyo feel more immersed in that old poem, but if he'd wanted to change the lyrics to represent his current mindset, clearly he would have composed a completely new, different song.

Kyo commented in PHY vol. 25 that if the producers wanted a band that sells a lot, they would have had to replace him with someone who is taller, has a nice face and that composes songs that appeal to a wider audience. But around their debut, Kyo had to bend to some of the producers' demands because he had to rely on their knowledge of what would make the band successful. He wanted to make a very dark band, but he had to accept to make songs like Yokan.

"It wouldn't be appropriate to sing about corpses and internal organs to a melodious song such as Yokan (lol)."

Kyo feels like Dir en grey is the toughest band for him to be a part of, because the band's shows are especially mentally difficult.

Kaoru

The music of The Devil In Me was Kaoru's idea.

Kaoru agrees that the song kind of ends in a way that the band could have, in the past, followed up on with a second section of the song, but they felt like ending it in a more simple way now, which still represents the band's current state.

Die

The band had a discussion in a dressing room during Tour23 Phalaris Final –The scent of a peaceful death- and that's where they came to an understanding of where they wanted to take the band next. Kyo brought them ideas on what he felt that the next single song should sound like, but in the end, at the selection meeting, the majority of the band chose a completely different song than the other of the 5 that Kyo preferred. He's fine with letting the majority win.

Die started working out in 2018 to make sure to stay in shape for stage performances, and I think that he mentioned that it's important for him to appear young and healthy so that the fans who follow the band also don't feel old.

For Die, he was in part less active on stage during the Dum Spiro Spero era because the songs were dark and complex, so he had to focus more. Because of that, he couldn't enjoy the actual shows as much.

Toshiya

Toshiya mentioned that doing commemorative tours and shows is really just fan service.

Toshiya described Dir en grey as a group of five dictators. Their enemies and friends/allies are all inside that group, and the past 25(+) years have been a continuation of challenges to bring the band forward despite this type of chemical reaction between five egos.

Apparently the band never has casual "weird" conversations where they chat about their interests of the moment, but they quietly observe the others without interacting, like by observing what kind of clothes they wear or are into.

Shinya

Contrary to the band's habit, the vocals did not even exist yet when Shinya had to compose and record his drumming for The Devil In Me. When the vocals were eventually recorded, they kind of matched what Shinya had expected.

However, overall, a couple of members of the band feel like The Devil In Me might be a song that people react to with: "I don't get it", rather that just liking or disliking it.

Shinya dissing The Marrow of a Bone again hahah.

Shinya described The Devil In Me as mysterious, inexplicable.

He started taking some lessons from Buck-Tick's "Anii" (Toll Yagami) to learn a new drumming method. In the past, at the very beginning of his career, Shinya used to wear lead weights at his ankles to hit the pedal heavier and develop muscles, but Yoshiki and other seniors told him how to actually play and he quickly got rid of the weight belts.

[acerathia]

Side-Character changes the genre! | S. Todoroki

Summary:

Waking up in a novel you have once read, you realize something of utmost importance: your favorite character is destined to die as a tragedy! So, you decide to help him avoid this bleak fate with your knowledge of future events, nothing more, nothing less, right?

Wordcount: 14.6k

Read on AO3

Pairing:

Crown Prince!Todoroki Shoto / Jester!Reader

Tags/CW:

reader is a jester, royal au, but also, isekai, this is unserious, only small amounts of angst, failed assassination plot, pinning and getting pinned down, idiot x competent (both of them tbh)

Note:

I finished it earlier than i thought, this fic is unserious, and too long for me to edit with this headache, enjoy lol (shoutout to my derelict favorite o7)

The sky above you seems endless, as the clouds beckon you to just come closer. And oh, how much you want to, stretching your arm towards them in quiet desperation, straining against whatever force is pulling you down. The tips of your fingers barely brush the underside of the sky, too far away to ever reach again, when everything exploded in shards of pain and darkness.

*-*

A gasp shudders out of your body as you jolt upright, the blanket loosely thrown over your legs, barely covering you. It is almost like your restless body has refused the warmth of the slightly coarse covering. Taking a couple of breaths, your hand clutching your chest as if to support this tiny endeavor of gathering air. After you have exhaled a couple of times, the panic has finally subsided, leaving you with phantom aches and a dizzy mind. You don’t remember going to bed at all, the last moment seared into your mind is the motion of falling endlessly.

A sudden sharp pang drives through your skull as you try to remember more, making you gasp once again. Maybe this isn’t the ideal time to try and dive into the last memories. Rather, you begin looking around, trying to discern if this place is in any way recognizable to you. Because it for sure is not a hospital room. It seems like you have woken up in a tiny hut, one space containing the bed you’re currently residing in, a table with only one chair and a kitchen space. The bright windows show you the depths of the forest, leaves brushing against the pane of glass. There is nothing else, the place almost looking neglected, empty, unlived in. Who might have brought you to this place? You don’t remember any of your acquaintances mentioning anything about a cabin in the woods.

You brush the blanket fully away, sliding off the small bed. Your bare feet meet the ground, and you expect yourself to flinch at the cold touch, yet, your body seems accustomed to the slight chill against your skin. You furrow your eyebrows slightly at this, but you decide to ignore whatever your body is doing right now, especially as you in fact do not mind having a little more resistance to the cold than usual.

With careful steps, you begin to walk around the confined space, looking for any possible clue about your current whereabouts. But you find nothing but untouched dust, and a mirror. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you walk up to the mirror until you can see your reflection. And you see yourself as you’re used to. Only in different clothing, ones almost vintage, something one would wear at a renfaire, not at home. Brushing against the texture of the material, you decide that you quite like it, despite its rough style. Only you do wonder how you came to wear this piece in the first place.

Continuing to explore the nooks and crannies of the tiny space, you stumble across a newspaper. One folded neatly in a corner, almost like the person who put it there knew that you might find it. Your eyes immediately jump to the top corners, trying to look for a date. But the moment you find one, it doesn’t make a lot of sense to you. The numbers feel like they have been put there in a whole new context, one fundamentally different from the one you’re so used to. And rather than helping you decipher your current situation, it only made you a little bit more confused.

Yet, you do not have it in you to give up due to some jumbled numbers without meaning. So, you begin to leave through the newspaper. One page after the other, letting the paper slide against your skin. And you’re not even worried about papercuts, as the material seems to be soft around the edges, something of good quality, yet not high enough to warrant sharp edges.

Your eyes glance over the stories, never truly picking something up, the way the words are formed, structured feels familiar yet too foreign to truly properly digest. The only thing that catches your eye are two words: ‘Todoroki Shouto’

“What the fuck?”, you mumble to yourself, dipping your head closer to the paper to read the printed text containing that particular name. It takes you longer than you would have liked to finish reading it, but it still left you reeling.

Letting the newspaper sink, you stare out of the window, your thoughts running around into a chaos of your own making. There is no way that this is true, is it? That’s just an elaborate prank, it has to be. You could not explain it otherwise why apparently your favorite character of your favorite novel is real. Or rather, how you landed into their world.

A giggle escapes you. Running a hand through your hair you feel the need to rip at those strands, trying to feel if anything is real at all. There is no way that Todoroki Shouto is actually going to celebrate his birthday party in the next few days. Because even if everything is real, and the picture in the newspaper seems to tell you that it is, you could not have chosen a worse time to wake up to. Because as much as he’s your favorite character, Shouto is destined to die at the hands of his own brother, and soon. And with the usurpation of the throne by the so-called Dabi, the whole kingdom is going to drown in flames.

That means, not only is your beloved Shouto going to die, but you also are going to follow suit very soon. And you do not want to die before you even understand what has happened in the first place.

Slowly falling to your knees and clutching the newspaper to your chest, you curse the world. Why couldn’t you have reincarnated into a romfan? Or anything else with barely any conflict, why did it have to be a novel filled with intrigue and wars.

As much as you’ve always wanted to meet Shouto, you didn’t mean to follow him into the afterlife. This thought brings a sudden realization with it. Wait. If you’re in the same world as your beloved favorite character, not only can you meet him, but also, possibly save him from his future. You have poured endless hours into changing the canon in your head during your daydreams, if only to make him survive everything and have a happy ending. So why shouldn’t you dare implement those ideas into this world of a novel. And because this is the novel, everything you do is technically canon.

Another giggle, only to turn into slightly mischievous laughter. With this plot of yours, not only will you be able to save Shouto, but also yourself. Suddenly, all these hours reading canon-divergent fics are worth it. Now, what you need to do is actually trying to discern what parts of your memory are canon, and what are simply the illusions brought forth by senseless hope.

Standing up, you use the newspaper to dust yourself off, before you begin looking for a pen and any form of paper. For this, you had to dig deep in a couple of cabinets, their contents often nothing but dust. But you eventually found exactly what you are looking for. Taking your newly discovered writing utensils, you sit down at the only table in this place. And you begin to write everything you remember. During this undertaking, you had to strike through several points, as with deeper thought, they turned out to be parts of some of the fics you have read. And you can’t have that, as your plan has to depend on the actions of the canon, rather than the ones of the wishful thinking of yours.

The important parts of Shouto’s plot are easily recognizable. His mother has been residing at seaside to recuperate from the sudden illness King Enji has bestowed upon her, while his eldest brother, Touya, who once thought to be the rightful heir to the throne, that is until Shouto came and their father changed his mind for no apparent reason. Of course, he couldn’t simply give Shouto the title of crown prince, rather, Touya had disappeared suddenly during a border skirmish. As this was the perfect opportunity, they immediately declared him dead, now truly putting the younger Shouto on the pedestal of the crown prince. This new position of his meant that every assassination attempt has switched targets, attacking him at every corner. And the ones about to come will be the most vicious of his life, even leading to his eventual death.

You can’t have that of course. Exactly those assassination attempts are the ones you have to sabotage to ensure that he stays on top of everything when the final showdown begins. Only, during writing those points, you remembered that not only is Shouto incredibly beautiful and talented, deserving of unending happiness, but also that he is the crown prince. Which is honestly awesome, he manages to do all his training and education with such ease, nobody else deserves that title. The problem lies with you, of course. Because how are you supposed to protect Shouto from his demise, if you can’t even get into the palace? And you highly doubt that they would simply let you in, if you walked over to the gates and told the guards: ‘Uh, hello, his Highness, the crown prince Shouto is about to be assassinated, and I’m the only one who can protect him.’ That would be absurd, and land you into jail yourself as a prime suspect. No, you had to handle it in another way.

Your head meets the wood of the table with a hollow thud. There is no way to do that, it’s hopeless. You cannot even get into the palace, there is no way to manage that, how are you supposed to save your beautiful Shouto?

Worst of all, you begin to feel dizzy. As your mind is already spiraling about the future of your favorite character, you immediately assume that you’re dying, as not only does your head hurt but your stomach is also cramping. Until you hear a familiar grumble, and every single one of your thoughts come to a halt. And if your head weren’t on the table already, you would have considered hitting yourself again.

“Ah. I’m hungry…”

Getting back onto your feet, you begin to look through every cabinet and cupboard, hoping to have overlooked something during your search for your writing utensils. But exactly as you feared, nothing has appeared during the couple of minutes you have looked away. Leading to one shocking conclusion: there is no food in this entire place. You almost went to your knees once again, but you decided to be stronger than this. You will not allow yourself to starve to death, especially with such an important mission. Even if you have no idea how to muster any kind of food, when all you own are the clothes on your back and a dusty place.

With trembling fingers you open the last cupboard, a silent plea to the author to give you one chance to survive. But even your last hope is crushed when you discover it empty of any possible sustenance. The only thing inside the cupboard seems to be a small leather pouch, too small to contain enough food, if food at all. Still, you can’t ignore this random bag, and because your curiosity is stronger than any despair you might have felt, you grabbed the pouch and peeked into it. And the moment your eyes recognize the insides, you almost let it fall in shock. But your self-sufficiency stops you from doing so, eliminating any risk of losing this precious content.

Because the bag is filled with enough cold coins to almost last you a lifetime if you knew how to use it well. And well, as you plan on surviving as long as possible, you cannot risk even losing one single piece to the harsh environment. So, you only grabbed one single coin with the tips of your fingers before closing the pouch once again to safely stash it away. This one coin should be enough to feed you and for you to get some seeds to plant to grow your own garden, giving you the chance to not only be self-sufficient, but also the ability to sell your plants and get more money.

A grin spreads over your face at the thought of gathering more money for your future life. What these gold coins could do for you. You’d never have to worry about starving, and because you have this place, you will always have a home. With these gold coins you’re settled for life, and if you manage to get a bit more out of them, you could even get yourself some tiny luxuries.

Grabbing the gold coin firmly in your fist, which you shove into a pocket for extra protection, you make your way to the door, steadfast in your decision to get yourself some food and some seeds. In front of the door you find a pair of sturdy shoes, and you’re glad that there is no reason for you to venture outside with your bare feet alone. Without ever letting the gold coin go, you shove your feet one by one into their respective shoes and barely manage to tighten the cords to fit you properly. You’d hate to fall and stumble because you neglected to secure your feet properly. Every misstep could mean the loss of this precious coin.

After making sure that the coin is still deep in your grip, you finally venture outside the hut. Only to see nothing but the vastness of the forest beyond the little fenced in space. And for a moment you can’t help but hesitate in front of the small gate, as your mind tells you to not step any further, in fear of what might be lurking just beyond your door. Worst of all, you can’t even convince yourself to pull through because it seems like you have no memories about this place, about the way to the next village. There is no way for you to do this on your own, you have to turn back and find another way…

Your cheek burns with the aftereffect of your slight slapping. But the slight pain jolts you out of your slight panic. You will go through this forest now, you will get yourself some food and not starve to death, and you will eventually find a way to save your beloved Shouto. You will not allow a puny forest to get the best of you.

With this decision burning inside of you, you finally take the first step out of the gate. And the first thing you notice is a small way in front of you, paved by the time and the steps of the people. This little path is currently your best bet, so with a shrug, you begin to diligently follow it. Despite its rather small size, the path isn’t as bumpy or rough as one might have expected it to be, for which you are glad, as you’d rather avoid twisting your ankle because your mind is slightly distracted from the way in front of you.

It barely takes you any time to emerge from the forest unscathed, not even tired out in the slightest. You begin to feel a little bit stupid at your unnecessary panic earlier, considering how easy it actually was to arrive at this village.

For a moment you stay still at the edge of the woods, simply gazing at what’s front of you as the slight breeze brushes through your clothes. The sky seems to stretch endlessly in front of you, open and a brilliant blue, with only the palace poking its tip towards it, as if trying to grasp some part of the infinite. This immense building is but a shard compared to the size of the sky, of the land, and yet it is the biggest there is. And it is your future destination to deflect the worst possible future.

Seeing the palace in the distance only serves to solidify your motivation, your goals and desires. So, you take your first step towards the palace, towards the village, and you are filled with determination to do everything in your power to change the outcome, for Shouto, for yourself, and for everyone else.

Once you arrive at the village, you take your time to slowly discover this place. You wander along the streets, you peek into the windows of tiny shops, and you even enter several to get yourself a basket to fill with fresh food and the seeds you plan to plant in the near future. It feels a little stupid to have forgotten such a necessity like a basket, but you don’t have the time to feel embarrassed as you simply get what you desire and walk around with an unbridled curiosity.

After some time, you stop in front of a fountain, watching the water bubble and fizz with each second, and you decide to take a break right at the edge of it. You sit down and stretch your legs while watching the low buzz of people walking and talking. Your eyes never stand still, always wandering in every direction, slow and comfortable, with no real focus. That is until you catch sight of an announcement board filled with papers tacked to it. And for some reason you feel the urge to read through every single one of them, because no matter how much you try to avert your gaze, your eyes always wander back to it.

With a sigh you grab your basket and make your way towards the board, weaving between the masses, never in a hurry, but with a set destination in mind. Finally coming to a halt in front of the stacks of papers, you begin to read through them by simply glancing at the headline. Until one contains one of your self-input keywords ‘palace’. You immediately step closer and read the posting with much more focus.

‘Now hiring! We’re looking for a jester to join the troupe for the duration of the festivities for crown prince Shouto Todoroki’s birthday. This includes the ball and [… ] No prior experience needed.’

You immediately snatch the paper and clutch it in your hand. This is it, this is your chance to get into the palace and possibly save Shouto from the first assassination attempt. Maybe the author is actually gracing you with immense luck to survive this. Maybe they absolutely want Shouto to survive no matter what. Of course you’re supposed to take this chance, even if your humor may not be up to their standards, because you’re meant to survive. Nodding to yourself at this explanation of yours, you make your way to the address written onto the paper.

It doesn��t take long for you to arrive at the rather open space with a couple of people warming up and doing rather light tricks. Still, you couldn’t help but watch as these people play with fire as if it’s purely silk, and with silk like it’s water flowing out of their hands. And no matter how much work all these tricks seemed to be, they all appear to have a tremendous amount of joy, laughter erupting with every clumsy mistake, leading to nothing but a loud noise or a knot between their fingers.

After carefully wandering between these people, you try finding someone who does not look to be in the middle of a trick or a warm-up. And eventually you almost bump into two people simply having a conversation.

“Ah, excuse me? I’m here because I’ve seen you’re hi–”

“You’re hired! We’re so glad to have you on board, but you must know that you will carry the responsibility if the kind is angered due to any of your jokes. Now, let’s see, you can go grab the costume over there,” he points to a colorful cart, not even letting you have a word. “And then we’ll meet again here the morning of the ball to venture together to the palace, alright? Alright, great. See ya!”

He slightly shoves you towards the wagon, and you stumble slightly, as the barrage of information overwhelms you the tiniest bit, well a bit more than that. Still, you follow his directions and walk to the wagon, where you knock against the door, trying to get whatever you’re supposed to and maybe some more information.

A head pokes out of the opening door, and the moment you both meet eyes, the younger boy breaks out in a grin. The door immediately swings open and he jumps out, drawing a circle around you before he finally stops in front of you, hand outstretched.

“Well, nice to meet you, I’m Hide, the one responsible for giving all these people fitting clothes. I assume you’re our new jester?”, he grabs your hand and shakes it, as you introduce yourself with a name.

“Great, let’s see, we should have something that fits you just right,” and as fast as he appeared, he dips back into the wagon, and you hold yourself back from peeking in while something crashes inside.

It doesn’t take long for him to emerge once again, this time with a slight wobble in his steps. Once again, he just acts before explaining anything, pushing a bundle of fabric into your chest, and you hurry to hold it before it slips from your grasp.

“That’s your costume. You know, shirt, pants and even a mask. We don’t want to risk you getting arrested once out of your costume. The whole being a jester at court thing is dangerous enough as it is.”

“Wait, what do you mean, ‘dangerous’?”, you interrupt him, because that’s the second time someone mentions something like that, and considering that you only talked to two people this whole time, it is quite a lot.

He shrugs. “Well, king Enji is not famous for being a funny guy after all. Many are scared to perform because they think he might just get rid of them. But the court has certain rules, and a jester at court has technically some immunity. Even if not, well, absolute or anything. So, you kind of have to protect yourself, we give you the mask, you try to keep trouble minimal. We survive, yippie!”

You blink at his explanation and slowly nod. It does make sense, as kind Enji is feared due to his hot temperament and his mercilessness, but well you’d rather not risk your life to burn under his scrutiny. A sigh escapes you, well, what one does for love, or something. You really have no other choice but to pull through, because there is no way you would get into the ball otherwise.

So, you accept these clothes and consequently the role as the jester for this troupe, even if temporary. Stowing the bundle into your basket, you decide it’s time to go home. You bid Hide farewell and you make your way back, a sudden exhaustion creeping up your back.

Maybe you have bitten much more than you could chew. How could someone like you even think of changing the outcome of the plot. Even with your money, do you even possess a chance to counteract the numerous assassination attempts? Or are they going to catch you and blame you for everything in the end, making every single step of yours for naught? Oh, how much you desire your favorite character to survive and to live out his life in peace and bliss, but are you the right person to help him do so?

Maybe it’s just enough if you act as a stepping stone to his way to happiness. Maybe you should be happy with that, never wanting more than to see him truly smile after every adversity is overcome.

Maybe you will pull it off, even if barely, You will do anything for that smile, truly. A breath, the thud of the basket against the wooden ground, the rough wool touching your face, and you allow the darkness to overcome you.

*-*

As agreed, you meet the troupe at the same place at a later date. You’re in your costume already, the material softer against your skin as your usual clothing is. The colors are bright and inviting, perfect for the role of a jester, as you would have to pull everyone’s attention towards you. Normally you would hate to receive so much attention, all those eyes scrutinizing your every move, but the weight of the mask against your nose and brows help with ignoring those. Nobody would be able to recognize you outside of your attire, the cap ’n bells covering the rest of your head as the liliripes hang around your face. The costume truly is serving its purpose: to hide your identity.

Yet, during the walk towards the palace, you’re glad to be able to keep your own sturdy shoes. In case something happens, you still would have the right footwear to react, instead of the usual jester shoes with their curling toes.

Finally entering the hall, bypassing the guards by taking the servant’s entrance, you almost stop in your tracks as you marvel over the place. Red and white flowers flow down the walls, their scent tickling the tip of your nose. The huge tables framing the hall are filled with art made of food, and ice sculptures, ones that do not seem to melt no matter the temperature. As you continue to follow the troupe, your eyes wander to the ceiling, only to be awed by the paintings depicting some sort of story you’re unable to decipher, their colors still vibrant underneath the light of the huge chandelier, one seemingly made of pure stars.

You barely notice when the group stops to prepare their acts in their designated area. But once you do, you keep to yourself, standing at the edge and simply watching these people. As your role does not need any preparation or any special space, your thoughts wander while still looking around the hall. And you nod slightly. That’s how the rich live. Very extravagant. You wouldn’t mind experiencing life like them, but you’re also content with simply having a secure future. Well, that’s as long as you manage to successfully help Shouto survive.

Slowly, the hall begins to fill and the music sways through the air, inviting everyone to dance, or to simply relax. As for you, you begin walking around, saying a joke there, doing a tiny prank here. Just whatever is in your capacity without making a big deal out of your presence. Especially due to your lack of experience, you’d hate to commit an irredeemable slip up. So, you focus on simply changing up the mood wherever it’s needed. All while you are waiting for your favorite character to finally make his appearance.

There have been a couple other characters you recognize, if only by the way they mutter or bark their words. Yet, you don’t care for them in particular. Because you know that none of them can be a match to Shouto, be it in appearance or character. Your favorite character truly has the noblest soul out of all the existing characters, and you shall make sure that he can bloom to show his true potential, unlike the outcome of the novel.

You shake your head in disapproval at the simple thought of the novel which brought ruination onto Shouto. Cursing the author in your head, you almost miss the entrance of the crown prince.

“Announcing His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince Shouto Todoroki,” the lord steward diligently does his job as he announces his arrival to the entire hall.

Immediately the whole mass of people turns to face the entrance, almost afraid to miss the chance to get a glimpse. And you’re no different. You even feel the urge to jump to get an even better look. But the thought is unnecessary, as movement sweeps through the people. bowing and curtsying, freeing the view towards him.

His appearance seems to strike you down. Even from afar you’re able to see the smooth, unblemished skin, the straight nose, plush lips and soft cheeks which slowly turn into a sharp jawline. His eyes look like the ocean at different times of the day, his lashes fluttering like a halo. His hair looks like a breeze is caressing him. He’s positively glowing, and you’re unable to move, until someone grabs you, pulling you down.

“Do you want to be beheaded?” the person, Hide, whisper-shouts at you and you realize that for a short moment you were the only one who didn’t greet him properly, practically risking your neck for a glimpse of him.

But his face is imprinted behind your eyelids and you doubt you could ever forget such a sight.

“Worth it,” you mumble, wincing when Hide strengthens his grip around your arm. But all you could do is stay silent with your lips slightly jutting forward. Because even if you don’t regret it doesn’t mean that it wasn’t a foolish thing to do. You only wish you had enough time to see the rest of him too. Maybe that’s the thing you’re actually regretting.

After Shouto has finished his walk through the hall, arriving in front of the dais to greet his father. And as expected, his greeting is short, curt, almost rude. But it’s known that despite him being the crown prince, he does not particularly like his father. Understandably so, if someone asked you for your opinion. King Enji is strong and is able to protect the kingdom with his own power, yet his destructive tendencies have affected a lot of the common folk, especially the ones living on the border of the country.

Of course, as you had read every tidbit about Shouto, you’re well aware how this piece of— this king had treated Shouto and his siblings. Such things aren’t common knowledge though, and you would not dare to utter such facts directly. Well, not as long as your life could be on the line. But even if you wouldn’t start some rumors about him, everyone will eventually know the truth once the allegedly deceased first prince returns.

But you hope to at least avoid it, because the appearance of the so-called ‘Dabi’ is in fact a massive death flag for your favorite character, and you’d rather have king Enji keep his reputation than risk Shouto getting killed.

You can’t help but giggle at the way Shouto immediately turns away to get away from his father. He takes a couple long strides towards the table, and you purse your lips when you notice how long his legs are, and how his thighs look in this particular pair of pants.

You keep your eye on him, not because you’re admiring his profile and how sophisticated he looks, no way, but because you still remember a certain plot point being carried out during this specific ball. But even if you do know that he is going to get poisoned, the novel never specified which glass or beverage had caused that incident. And you hardly could just go up to him every time he picks up the glass and takes a sip before he does, that would be ridiculous. How could you even think of indirectly kissing him, that’s bordering on being blasphemous.

So, all you could do is just keep looking at him and trying to discern if something is wrong with whatever is in his hand. That’s how you watch how he nods at something his conversation partner says, as he slowly raises the glass filled with deep red liquid. And for some reason you feel some sense of deja vu, a shiver buzzing down your spine, and you speed up your steps towards him, sincerely hoping that you might reach him just in time.

You realize too late that you wouldn’t be able to stop perfectly in front of him, so you end up bumping into him. But you take this chance to slap the glass out of his hand, continuing to stumble and to flail your arms, before acting like you found your balance again. You immediately put a hand in front of your eyes when you turn back in his direction, and you utter the first thing that comes to mind.

“Excuse me, your Highness, your beauty has simply blinded me,” you bow before you make your departure as swift as possible, hiding between the groups of people.

You’re tempted to curl into a ball and hide behind one of those heavily decorated pillars, but you reckon that would be too obvious and you would only stand out more than you already do. So, you simply continue to weave between all these people and do your job, this time without bumping into anyone.

Luckily, after some time, you realize that there are no guards looking to arrest and kill you and you start to relax. And as soon as the party begins to slow down, you prepare your leave too, wondering how you might infiltrate the palace once again to offer your help hidden in the shadows. Even if theoretically he does not need any help, because he did not get poisoned, which leads to him being more resistant to the subsequent assassination attempts. But the thing that worries you the most is, that this is a novel, who knows how it might retaliate if only to get to the destined end. So, you’d rather not risk stopping your helpful attempts at distracting the assailants.

Of course, you’re not implying that Shouto needs your help, he’s an amazing character, strong and noble, he definitely can handle himself. But you reckon that your in-depth knowledge of the novel might just give him a better advantage against his villainous brother. Even if you understand Dabi’s motivations, you cannot forgive him for making your favorite character suffer like this, that’s the way of a fan.

Slowly, you make your way towards the exit, the troupe probably assembling outside where there’s more free space to do so. Your attention is too focused on the problems of the future, your eyes trying to see if there’s a hidden servant's passage you could use sometime, you don’t notice the person in front of you until you bump into them.

You stumble slightly, barely catching yourself, and you prepare to either apologize or to say something so out of pocket, the other forgets about what just happened. Yet, the moment you look up, you freeze, as you encounter the beautiful face of Shouto. His beauty is enough to make a poet weep and lament, and sadly you’re no poet, so all you could do is stare. His features are much more insane up close, and even face to face, all you can see is him sparkling. His eyes lock with yours, and you feel like you’re getting swept up in an ice storm, and boy, you would have never been more glad to freeze to death if that’s the last thing you see.

Up close, you notice how broad his shoulders are, how his clothes show his lean, yet well-adorned silhouette, and you have to pull yourself together to not make your stare more noticeable. You immediately prepare to run away, but before you could even think of a way to escape, and you were almost tempted to jump out of the window, you feel his fingers carefully grab your wrist.

There’s no skin contact, as he’s been wearing gloves, but the warmth is the same nonetheless and you feel your veins boil and melt. His grip isn’t bruising, but also not something one can escape so easily. And even if you could, you doubt you would forcefully break the contact. (And you can’t help but be amazed at how a character could be so warm.) So, you follow him wordlessly to wherever he’s dragging you to.

Once you arrive at a secluded spot, he lets you go, and while you mourn the loss of the touch, you don’t let it show on your face. You simply face him and wait for him to say what he wants to say. And you sincerely hope he’s not going to give you the death sentence.

“I want you to stay at the court as my court jester,” he finally says, his eyes roaming over the mask on your face.

You cock your head in confusion, his sudden request something you surely did not foresee. But it is the ideal opportunity for you, as with an official occupation at the palace, you would have access to almost every part of it. Yet–

“Why?”

He slightly shrugs. “My father the king hated you and was annoyed by your presence, that’s reason enough to keep you by my side.” After Shouto explains his reasoning, which makes so much sense with his characterization, you can’t help but shudder at the thought of being at the risk of the king’s wrath. And he seems to notice it, so he adds: “You do not have to worry. I will ensure your safety. My father and his lackeys shall not harm you in any way.”

You cross your arms deep in thought. Shouto is the crown prince and he does wield rather impressive power in the palace. He could definitely keep you safe, but if he truly can keep you safe from his own father is something you can’t help but doubt. But you suppose that this is the only way to stay close to him without breaking in. And as long as you avoid direct confrontation with Enji you should be fine.

You don’t agree immediately, rather, you act like any person with a job offer would, you ask about the benefits, perks and the pay. And unsurprisingly, Shouto is rather generous with his offer, so you end up accepting after taking everything you could get your hands on. You had to make enough to survive after all this is over, and why be stingy?

With that, he leads you back to the exit of the hall, telling you that he’s expecting you tomorrow in the morning. You nod and bow before you hurriedly leave the place. Because no matter how you might’ve acted in front of Shouto, you’re still reeling from the direct experience of seeing him up close and even having a proper conversation. This is much better than simply reading about him.

Returning to the troupe, you make the walk back with them with small talk about how the evening has been for them. And even if you didn’t directly tell anyone about the offer from the crown prince, it seems like Hide is kind of aware of it, as he tells you to keep the outfit, as a parting gift. You thank him profusely, as with this outfit you might be able to keep your real identity a secret for some time.

*-*

The next morning you wake up at dawn, simply staring at the ceiling without moving an inch. You know, you should slowly make your way towards the palace, but you feel hesitant. Due to your interference yesterday evening, the plot has begun to change, but from your experience in reading novels, you’re aware that whatever force is controlling this world can forcibly change the plot back to how it was, especially if you continue to meddle. And you can’t help but worry. There’s no way you’re going to be a challenge for all the assassins or attempts. You’re just a random character now, with no abilities to your name. You would be worried about your life, but you remember that death awaits you either way, so you suppose it is better to at least help Shouto to the best of your capabilities.

With a jerk you sit up and begin to prepare for your departure. You reckon there’s no need for you to take your meagerly belongings with you, so you simply put on your costume and head out.

Arriving at the palace gates, you hesitate once again. He did tell you to come, but how are you to enter the palace in the first place? Did he tell the guards? Are you supposed to introduce yourself?

For a moment, you just stand there, probably looking a little lost, as one of the guards simply walks up to you and looks you up and down. And without a word, he puts his hand on your shoulder, sudden and heavy, to push you through the gate. Wordlessly he returns to his post, leaving you looking around, confused as to why that just happened.

But in the end, it doesn’t really matter, so you walk towards the palace. And instead of entering through the main entrance like you did yesterday, you make your way to the entrance for the servants, as you are technically one now, not a guest.

You find the servants entrance easily, and you thank every author for including maps in their novels. If you hadn’t studied the layout of the palace while reading to understand the details, you might’ve taken a long time to locate the inconspicuous door.

Entering the place, you look around for a moment, before you spot a maid. You did contemplate if you should just go to Shouto on your own, but you reminded yourself that this might look extremely suspicious, in addition to your behavior yesterday. Of course you can’t just wander around even if you know the palace, people might question why you know the layout in the first place.

So, you approach the maid, making sure to make some noise to avoid scaring her. You ask her to lead you to Shouto, and while she does give you a narrow-eyed look, she complies, but not without informing a guard first. You shrug internally at that. Very reasonable of her, if you’re honest.

You follow through the long halls until she tells you to wait as she knocks and enters the room. This isn’t his room, rather, it’s his workplace. And you can’t help but sigh, how could the cruel king give Shouto his work. He is the crown prince, but also, that’s not his job to clean up after the king. Worst thing is, that his underlings are pressuring Shouto, telling him it’s what he’s supposed to do. So, he ends up almost overworking. You can’t imagine how bad it might’ve been if the poison had been added to the overwork he experiences. (Well, you can, but you don’t want to. How could you even think about your favorite character suffering like that.)

After a short while, you’re allowed to enter the room, and as you do, you immediately bow at the sight of Shouto. Partly because you had to and partly because you want to mentally prepare yourself before looking at him directly. You might just freeze again if you see him in his normal attire. While staring at the soft carpet with the intricate details, you can’t help but imagine what he might be wearing at this very moment.

You don’t get the chance to let your imagination run freely for a long time, as he tells you to straighten up with a greeting. Your eyes lock onto him, and you sincerely hope that no one can see where your sight is looking, as you immediately notice the white and fluffy shirt, accentuating not only his broad shoulders and his lean physique, but also frames his revealed assets in such a way you cannot keep looking at this space without imploding.

Averting your eyes, you look at his face, and as you’ve seen him twice already, one time even up close, you thought the effect on you might lessen. That turns out to be not true, as you feel blinded by his beauty once again. So, you resort to simply looking over his shoulders, your eyes twitching as you want to look at him but also avoid looking at him at the same time.

You can’t tell if he notices your conundrum, but you hope he doesn’t. There would be nothing more embarrassing if Shouto of all people realize how you feel about him. At least nobody can hear your beating heart if they’re not too close.

The moment he begins to talk is the moment your strength almost crumbles and you barely hold onto yourself, not doubling over as you hear how smooth and calm his voice sounds. You were too nervous to focus on it when he had approached you last evening, but his voice reverberates not only in the silent room, but also in your chest cavity. It’s slightly husky, and you reckon it’s due to the lack of talking he had done today. You try your best to focus on his words rather than on his melodious voice.

He had begun to explain what is expected of you. Such as performances during events and occasionally during meal time. He explicitly allows you to make a fool out of the king, practically giving you the official jester’s privilege. Now you’re only missing a marotte, you giggle to yourself. Of course you don’t tell him that, as being able to get on king Enji’s nerves is your current job and your shared goal. Maybe you should sometimes imply to know some of his secrets, considering that you’re under protection, if only to get him a little more paranoid.

Outside of your public appearances you’re allowed to go as you please as long as you’re ready at a moment's notice. Food and lodging are of course included in your job, you just have to go to the kitchen at certain times to receive your meals.

This is more freedom than you had anticipated, but that’s even better. That way no one can suspect you as you lounge around the whole place, trying to pick up on possible assassination attempts. As long as you don’t get caught in the several secret passages throughout the palace. This job is such a good deal, you don’t even dare haggle about your salary and possible severance pay, rather you just thank him and leave the room, not only escaping your collapse at the prolonged sight of him, but telling him that you’re keen on exploring the place.

In the halls you take a couple of steps before you lean against the wall, trying to calm your heart. This can’t be healthy, you’re meant to watch Shouto from a safe distance, not this up close. You’re going to get heart palpitations if it continues like that.

You manage to shake this nervousness off, but just as you were going to continue your meaningless walk, you notice a sudden change of guards in front of his door. This is normal, if it were to happen at certain times, but as such change is supposed to happen at regular intervals, ones you’re aware of, this one is rather sudden.

Squinting, you continue to observe the new guard. The one who simply should stand in front of the door. Yet, he is turning towards the door, hand on the handle. Before you know it, you’re already by his side, ramming your foot into the back of his knee, making him lose balance. You don’t give him enough time to get it back, as you shove him down. He crashes to the ground and you immediately get onto his chest, squatting down to get a better look on his face.

The guard curses you and you just cock your head with a grin. And it seems like the noise has caught the attention of the people inside the room, as the door opens to reveal Shouto and some of his advisors.

You jump off of the guard and bow. “Greetings again, it seems like someone wasn’t satisfied with, well, I don’t really know what exactly.” You face the lying guard once again. “What did you not like about working at the palace? The view is impeccable if I may say so myself.”

With view you mean the ability to see crown prince Shouto on a regular basis of course. If you could see his face every day, you would never suffer from any illnesses for the rest of your life.

Acting you’re listening seriously as the guard curses you under his breath and you nod as if in understanding. “I get it, Your Highness, he has been plotting treason! Why else would he spout such nonsense even I cannot repeat.”

For a moment, all Shouto does is look at you, like he wants to know what’s going inside your head. Despite your weird behavior, he complies and lets the guard be dragged away, all while he’s shouting how the king has made a mistake. His cursing is evidence enough, even if you did fabricate some of it earlier, it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Meanwhile you’re almost squirming under Shouto’s gaze, avoiding any eye contact, as you know the moment you directly look at him, your heart might just explode. Especially if he was doing something like leaning against the frame of the door, or holding his weight against it, or simply standing in front of the door, all confidence and strength. Your mind begins to imagine all different possible poses you might find him in.

Luckily, instead of interrogating you, he instead simply dismisses you and returns to his office without another word, sparing you a direct glance in his direction.

The door closes and you wait a couple of seconds before pulling out your hands from behind your back. A dagger is glinting when the light refracts against it, almost like a promise for its sharpness. This is something you have just purloined from the assassin. It’s a little hand trick to make it disappear from the sight of others, especially if they’re distracted by something else.

You’re thankful some of your skills remain, despite being in a strange world, as this short moment reminded you that even if you had managed to stop two attempts as of now, you’re actually completely defenseless without a proper weapon. And you couldn’t really ask the prince to hand over something so dangerous into the hands of someone like you, a mere stranger, only occupying this place for some momentary gain.

With a sigh, you push the dagger into your waistband, its tip dangerously digging into your thigh. You should’ve gotten the sheath too, but your fingerplay was simply not as fast as you were used to. Well, as long as you don’t move wrong, the chance of getting hurt is rather slim, so you’ll take it.

After making sure the dagger is not visible through the spacious and thick fabric of your costume, you continue your walk through the halls almost like nothing has happened.

*-*

Boredom is going to kill you at this point. Since your official employment, there had been no chance to actually work, as there were no events planned and Shouto was and still is swamped in his duties as heir. At least he’s healthy enough to work, you suppose.

At first, you didn’t even mind doing nothing, but at some point there truly was nothing to do. You have explored every possible nook and cranny of the palace, and it seems like the assassination attempts have ceased for the moment, because everything has been pretty quiet. Nothing was suspicious. Well, this might’ve been your influence, partly. Because you’re pretty sure the people behind those assassins probably did not expect their attempts to fail like that. So they’re backing up for the moment, if only briefly.

That’s what you thought, and the reason why you have started exploring the garden. You were enjoying the soft breeze and the smell of flowers it carries, until you accidentally stumble across a pavilion, one which Prince Shouto has been resting under, drinking tea on his own.

Coming to an abrupt halt, you immediately bow and begin to back away so as to not disturb him any further. But before you can properly disappear, Shouto locks eyes with you, and even if you don’t freeze up this time, you don’t get the possibility to get away, as he calls you to step closer.

“Please, join me,” he simply instructs as he gestures towards the empty seat opposite of him.

His words don’t seem like a command, rather they sounded genuine, and who are you to say no to snacking with a snack. So, you bow again and take a seat.

Despite being excited about eating with him, you can’t help but avoid directly looking at him, clenching your muscles at the mere thought of being perceived by him.

You’re not sure he noticed the mix of excitement and nervousness swirling through you, but either way, he simply tells you to eat whatever you want as he sips on his still hot tea. Peeking at him, your heart begins to race at the sight of him holding his cup so elegantly. Better said, his whole posture is absolutely regal and you think you might see rays of light radiate off of him.

Grabbing anything in front of you and almost clumsily stuffing it into your mouth, you try to distract yourself from the perfect being sitting right in front of you. You really can’t say anything rash in his presence, or you might regret it, not only for the rest of your life, but for all eternity.

That’s what you decided on, to be a calm rational person. Sadly, your body didn’t agree with you, because the moment your eyes meet his, the crumbs of whatever sweet thing you have stuffed into your mouth slip down the wrong path, and you begin to choke. At first, you tried to free yourself from their hold discreetly, and you sure are glad that the mask is covering your face, because you doubt your predicament isn’t visible there, but these particles of dough are determined to make your life worse and worse. Because at some point you could not hold back anymore and just began to cough. And it isn’t just a normal, ‘one cough and you’re free' type of cough, it’s a ‘you’re going to eject your lungs’ type of cough. You barely had enough time to turn your face and to bury it into the crook of your arm before the attack started.

Tears are running down your cheeks, and you’re pretty sure a big part of them are from your broken heart. How could you embarrass yourself in front of Shouto like that? This is even worse than being the jester, a person meant to make people laugh, this situation isn’t even particularly funny, just horrible. How could you show your face after all this?

A cup of tea is carefully put into the palms of your hands, the porcelain warm against your skin, but there’s another warmth much more potent resting against the back of your hands, guiding you to take small sips from the tea. After the aromatic drink frees the blockage in your throat, you take a deep breath, relishing in the way you can breathe again.

That is until you feel that kind of pressure on your hands, which should not be caused by a simple cup of tea. You almost hesitate, but when you finally look up, you immediately lock eyes with Shouto, but this time, he’s so much closer to you than you would have anticipated. If your mouth was still filled with something sweet, you likely wouldn’t have only choked, but probably even done something much worse, you don’t even feel the need to think about it.

In your haze of admiration and embarrassment you nearly miss the way he almost imperceptibly furrows his eyebrows. You immediately hurry to calm his worries.

“Your Highness! I’m totally fine now, please, do not worry. You might develop wrinkles way earlier this way,” the last part is mumbled, as you lift a hand towards his face. But before you could even press the pads of your fingers against the crease to soften them, you stop in your tracks. You really shouldn’t do this, as it’s not your place, you’re not meant to get close to him or to touch him. Even if he is more than a simple character to you, even if he’s the realest thing you would ever have in your life.

You open your mouth to say something, you’re not even sure what exactly, but before you could do something about this tension between you (his hands still clutching yours, he’s still crouching in front of you, looking up to you in worry, like you’re worth the worry and–), there’s a crash.

Something has flown past the both of you, barely missing your bodies and hitting the table filled with food. The table which now has an arrow embedded into its wood. There’s no time to hesitate as you let the cup drop, porcelain shattering on the ground at the same time as you throw yourself onto Shouto, pushing him to the ground. Another arrow grazes your back this time, only noticeable by the breeze and the sting of split skin.

There are no other arrows following, as the moment the first arrow has arrived under the pavilion the surrounding knights have immediately assessed the situation and began their own attack. But before they could catch the culprit, it seems like they escaped just after the second arrow had been shot.

Only when you’re sure about the safety of the situation, do you roll away, letting yourself fall onto the cold ground, far from the spilled tea. Pain shoots up your spine, but you ignore it as you watch the knights fuss over Shouto. Shouto who is safe and merely with some scrapes from the dodge.

Slumping against the cold marble, as relief floods through you. Nothing of importance has been harmed, they didn’t succeed, once again. And you hope that this whole ordeal will lead to the security around Shouto tightening. Even if it means you might lose your position due to your foggy, practically non-existent past.

You simply take a breather on the ground, trying to ignore the possible consequences affecting you, because if you get kicked out, how are you supposed to stay by his side, uh, to protect him. There’s no way you’d want anything more. Even if he is the most attractive man you have ever encountered in your whole life, but that’s another whole bomb to defuse, you’ve got bigger problems. At least the knights have taken Shouto inside already, not even giving you the chance to see him to say goodbye or to admire his face, you mean, to make sure he’s alright.

Silence coats the once rowdy pavilion, only you’re left behind. And you don’t mind, you shouldn’t, because in their eyes, you’re no one. No one but someone who’s supposed to bring them joy at the exact right moments. Nothing more. Even if you put effort into being more, it simply won’t matter. And you know it, you know it and you’ve accepted it. That’s why you slowly sit up again, your fingers trying to touch the torn skin at your back, barely grazing it before sharpness drills into you. Yet, the wound isn’t deep, merely a touch of the blade. Something you can simply leave to heal on its own. If it leaves a scar, then it does so, as there’s no reason for you to abhor or be scared of leaving marks on yourself. That is simply life.

Yet, you don’t immediately stand up to go back. You simply stay. Trying for a moment to forget the impending doom and the task of having to stitch your shirt back into one piece. You simply stay and let the air cool you down until the tips of your fingers feel stiff. Only then do you get on your feet, intent on finally going back. But before you could even leave the pavilion in the first place, a knight taps your shoulder.

Turning around to face him, you notice that he doesn’t have the air of a knight, rather one of a noble, with the way his green eyes sparkle and his equally colored hair is styled. You also notice his clothes, which do have some elements of an armor, yet too elegant to be truly one. He smiles at you.

“Excuse me, but Shouto would like to see you,” he tells you simply, but you can see in the way his eyes wander over you that many more thoughts are bubbling over in his head. He’s simply accustomed to keeping them inside, rather than sounding them out.

You simply nod, and you’re silently grateful he wasn’t expecting you to actually bow to him. Because it would be so embarrassing to do so, only for him to notice your ripped shirt. So, you’re readily following him back to the palace and to–

The door you’re standing in front of is not his office. You glance at the noble in front of you as he knocks on the door. It opens and he invites you in, yet stays outside himself.

A moment, a blink, and you do as you’re told, entering something akin to a parlor. And there he is, Shouto, in another set of clothes and impeccably clean, but safe nonetheless. He’s sitting on one of the couches, and you simply bow the moment you see him.

He murmurs your name and you look up. “Take a seat.”

For a moment, you hesitate, unsure if you’re actually allowed to comply, as sitting on the same eye level as royalty is not something you should actually dare (even if that would be your second time, but that only makes it worse, as it could develop into a habit. You don’t want that).

Yet, you follow his command, because he continues to simply look at you, and you could not bear to have his gaze on you for such a prolonged time. So, you sit down on the edge of the couch opposite of him.

But it seems to have been the wrong move, as a small furrow appears between his eyebrows, a small crease, barely noticeable on his smooth face. Upon seeing the change on his face, you tense, ready to immediately stand up and to leave, or do whatever Shouto wants from you.

Before you could throw yourself off the soft cushions, he stands up and walks around the tea table, only to take a seat by your side.

You turn to face him at such a speed, your mask almost got flung away. And you wish you could express yourself with speech bubbles instead of words to articulate ‘???’ properly. But alas, all that comes out of your mouth is a series of warbles, akin to a keysmash. You’re almost inclined to pushing yourself towards the farthest end of the couch, especially with the way his eyes wander over the lower half of your face and–

“Take it off,” he instructs you before you could do anything rash.

“My mask? Your Highness, I’m sorry, but I won’t comply with that, my identity–”

“I mean your shirt. Take it off.”

In a weird reflex, you cross your arms in front of your body. “Wh-What’s that supposed to mean, Your Highness?”

He glances at your arms before looking back at you with a new furrow between his eyebrows. “You got hurt earlier and need medical attention. I will just do that.”

“Oh.”

If the blood didn’t rush into your face due to your surprise, then embarrassment will do the trick just fine. How could you misunderstand him like that, Shouto would never do something like, like that!

You purse your lips, another thought popping into your head. “Your Highness, not to be rude, but why would you of all people do that?”

A slight tilt to his head and his hair falls beautifully onto his cheeks, and the sun hits at the right angle and he glows. You’re doing your best to not straight-up stare at him wide-eyed and amazed by his sheer beauty. You’re so focused on appearing normal, you almost miss his answer.

“Well, you did protect me, so I suppose the injury is due to me, and I cannot leave it just like that.”

You furrow your eyebrows. Technically it’s not his fault, it’s theirs and maybe a little bit yours for being reckless. But definitely not his. But you don’t know how to explain how you’re always on guard due to the rebels always targeting him and how you wanted to protect him from the very beginning. So, you simply comply.

Of course, you don’t take your shirt off, rather, you turn your back towards him with a murmured apology and lift the hem just enough for the wound to be visible. Clenching your teeth, you wait for his next actions.

A cold burn seeps through the edges of the wound and your skin feels hot and cold and tingly. This sensation continues in small jumps all over the open skin and you barely manage to breathe through it, hissing silently between your teeth when the worst part got touched by the cold fire of pure alcohol.

The dabbing stops and you barely feel his touches after that. Nothing but a ghost as the dressing is carefully taped to your back, covering the wound to protect it.

Only after the sensations of the tips of his fingers vanish (you think you might’ve felt them graze your skin a little bit more than necessary, but that surely is nothing but your wishful thinking), do you let your shirt fall back into place. Turning back to face him again, you smile.

“Thank you so much, Your Highness,” you say with a bow, trying to express your gratitude properly to him, but you suppose only actions will truly do that work for you.

For a moment, he just looks at you, gaze unfazed and calm. Just as Shouto opens his mouth to say something, does it seem like uncertainty is tainting his dazzling pupils. Closing his mouth again with a sigh and shutting his eyes, he simply dismisses you without any other explanation.

You’re almost keen to just stay and ask him for his motivations, but you know that no matter how close you feel to him, it’s all in your head and you’re nothing more than a mere subject of his future kingdom. So, you leave. Barely time for a simple glance towards him, meeting his eyes for a second, before the door closes behind you.

Despite your need to get away, to put some distance between you and him, you just stand in front of the door. The last attempt made you realize how close death could be, how precocious you have been acting, thinking that your mere presence could actually be of help to anyone, when actually all you were is an obstacle, standing between the assassins and Shouto. And while it might prove useful, to be a shortlasting barrier, the dull ache in your back made you realize that you want to be more, need to be more.

Something clicks in your mind, something that changes how you view this world, this world that once consisted of fictional beings merged into something more. A world filled with life and death and opportunities and missed chances. And you’re in the middle of it.

Straightening your back, you shove the rest of the implications to the side. There’s no time for you to actually dive deeper into this realization, what this could mean for you especially. Rather, you begin to walk down the hallway, towards the training hall, a certain objective in mind.

*-*

The sun is barely peeking behind the horizon, almost blinding you as you take a breather. At the beginning of your random training regime, you had barely managed to finish one lap around the training grounds before you started to lose your breath. Now, you just finished your second lap and your lungs started to burn towards the end of it. So, you suppose that you gained some stamina by just desperately putting one foot after the other. And normally, you would start another lap until you feel like you’re about to collapse, but today you want to try something new.

At least new to this body. You’re still not quite sure if this is your body or if it’s just one that looks like you. Especially because it feels like some muscle memory of your old life is still ingrained in you, but of a lower quality than you’re used to. That means you need to try everything with caution and act like it’s your first time to avoid any serious harm.

That’s why you had concentrated your efforts on building stamina and muscle with simple exercises. But today feels like you’re ready for a step up. So, after you catch your breath, you make your way to the rack filled with wooden weapons and grab one in the vague shape of a sword. It’s balance is alright and it’s comfortable in your grip. You actually don’t really want to wield a proper sword because it could be turned against you easily due to your lack of experience in actual fighting. That means that a wooden sword is just perfect. It gives you range and it can hurt enough to distract someone without actual injuries. (Unless you shove it into someone’s throat or stab it into their eyes or give them a heavy concussion or —)

Anyway, less harm but still quite effective for your endeavors of protecting Shouto in some way, even if it means to be a competent distraction.

You swing a couple of times to test your grip.

“What are you doing here?” a familiar voice sounds from behind you and as you almost jump out of your skin, you barely keep a hold of the wooden sword slipping out of your hand.

Hurriedly, you turn around, only to actually face Shouto. You immediately bow and mumble a greeting, glad that bowing to him makes him disappear from sight, because you caught a glance at the way his training pants hug his thighs and if you would have seen them for even one second longer your mind might’ve erupted.

Only when Shouto tells you to straighten up, do you fumble for an answer, eyes glued to the wooden stick in your hand.

“Uh, you see, I was just very curious about swords, uh, especially ones from wood. Just wanted to touch them, to feel their texture, uh,” with every word coming out of your mouth, you wanted to slap yourself so badly.

Even if you are supposed to be a jester does not mean you’re meant to be stupid after all. You really don’t want him to think of you as stupid.

You press your lips together to shut yourself up, you can’t even curse under your breath anymore. The heels of your feet dig into the dirt and you’re ready to speed away the moment he dismisses you, but–

“Then, let’s spar. Curiosity can only be satiated by knowing more than anticipated after all.”

He reaches past you, and suddenly his body is hovering over yours, his throat right in front of your eyes and you see as his soft skin dips into his fluttery shirt. If you lean towards him even the slightest bit, your lips would meet the tender spot where throat meets collarbones. Your hands are cramping by your side, one move and they would be able to reach him way too easily. The tips of his shoes tap softly against yours and his arm brushes your shoulder as he pulls back, a wooden sword in hand.

Only when he takes a couple steps away from you and towards the middle of the training ground do you release the breath you have been holding in. Despite your past inability to use your lungs, you notice how his smell still lingers around you. Some sort of mix between the smoky smell of a fire place and the refreshing one of mint, and you wonder if his lips taste like the mint he chewed–

You shake your head before the thought evolves and for a moment you want to excuse yourself and step back, but then you remember that Shouto had an almost fatal weakness. He continues to leave his left side open, and while his friends have helped him improve, sparring with people he’s familiar with will not help him grow. So, you decide to actually have a spar. Even if it’s just one.

Standing in front of him, you try your best to copy his stance. And as you’re only a beginner, he allows you to have the first move.

You rush towards him and he easily parries. Another strike, another parry. He stays on the defensive and you’re focused on getting to know how he moves. And then, you notice the opening. With a feint, you manage to get a hit on him. One that feels like it hurt you instead of him. But you can’t allow yourself to slack just yet. You continue to hit him on his left side every time he allows an opening. Until you take your chances to trip him.

While he’s falling, you don’t expect him to grab you by the wrist and pull you with him. That’s why you flounder and lose your chance to pin him down properly, as all you can think about is how you’re stradling him and how firm his muscles feel underneath your touch, weapon forgotten and limp in your grip.

If only you didn’t get distracted by the way he appears as he looks up to you from between the strands of hair and how the breath leaves his soft lips, and how much contact your bodies are making. If you had managed to react timely, then Shouto wouldn’t have had the chance to grab your waist to flip you over, pinning you underneath him. Your legs trapped between his and wrists caught in one of his hands. And due to the lack of support, he’s almost laying on top of you.

The worst thing is the look on his face as he glances down at you. He looks at you like you’re something to be astonished by, like you’re something truly worthy to wonder at.

The heat is slowly getting to your head and you quickly surrender before you blurt or do something embarrassing. Because there’s no way you would be able to stay still if he holds you any longer in that risquée position.

Shouto slowly pulls back, freeing you bit by bit, at such an excruciating pace, you almost try to pry your wrists out of his hold. But his soft skin against yours is something you want to continue to feel, the warmth of another person, of Shouto specifically.

After he straightened up, he still hasn’t let go of one of your wrists, gently pulling you into a sitting position. Still holding you, he lets his gaze travel over your covered face. (You refuse to pull off the mask outside of your assigned room, wary of the King and the rebel spies. That’s why you have been even wearing it during training.)

Still, despite the coverage it feels like his eyes are able to see you, to truly see the you behind the thin facade of the jester.

“I know what you’re doing,” he suddenly drops, and you stiffen up underneath his touch.

“What– What am I doing, Your Highness?”, you ask, afraid of the answer, no matter if it’s the right or wrong one.

A small sigh. “Since the moment you’ve stepped into my life, well, rather stumbled into it, you were always involved with the assassins around me…”

“Wha– No! It’s purely a coincidence! That’s all I do, stumble around!” you hurriedly try to deny whatever accusations are thrown your way.

Yet, none of your words seem to have any impact, he continues without regard for your protests. “You have been protecting me, why?”

That’s what makes you lose all words, all arguments. You can’t answer him. You can’t tell him that you have known everything from the very beginning. You can’t even tell him a half-truth half-lie, that you heard all kinds of conspiracies. None of these would work. Everything you might say will make you look suspicious. And you’d rather not lie to him.

So, you simply slip his hand off of you, and he lets you go without resistance, just with furrowed eyebrows at your motion.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter as you leave, avoiding answering him, risking breaking the fragile trust he has been building towards you. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is his survival, and effectively yours after everything is over. There’s no need for it to be more between you. (Even if you wanted to confess everything to him, to tell him how much you appreciate, even love him. But you can’t, you never will.)

(How could you tell him anything, to confess to him about you and your feelings when you’re all-too-aware of what’s about to come, what’s about to happen. You can’t afford to distract him during such a vital time, especially with all the effort you have put in towards making sure he’s alive and healthy… You might’ve accepted this world, but that does not mean that you have a place between its people…)

*-*

It’s supposed to be a simple meal with the royal family. That was the plan. Just King Enji with his children, trying to have some sort of get-together once again. It’s supposed to be simple, as normal as a family of their caliber should be. Shouto has even requested your presence during the meal, as a means to get the King to have an early death due to his blood pressure, maybe.

But you know. You know what’s supposed to happen. And you still came, still decided to have his back even during the climax of his story. One where he’s supposed to perish, but now won’t. Your interference has led to him still being strong and healthy as the Crown Prince is supposed to be.

He won’t lose. The story won’t end in a tragedy.

The door breaks. Pressure putting cracks into its hard wood and splinters fly everywhere. Surrounding knights immediately step forward, building a line of defense between the royal family and whoever is on the other side. Kind Enji barely glances from his meal, even if Shouto has risen to his feet, ready to protect his family if needed.

Your own fingers find the hidden hilt of the stolen dagger, still buried in the space of your clothes. But you don’t step forward. Your fate lies in him, no matter what happens, he shall rise triumphantly.

For a moment, only the clatter of silverware permeates the silence. Until footsteps echo through the hall. Their beat indicates a slight swagger, one confirmed once a black haired individual comes into your sight. You swallow back a gasp. The descriptions in the book would have never led you to believe the extensive scarring stretching over bones, barely healed burns with a shine of purple. Something of pain and suffering. Something a child never should have gone through.

“Ah, Father, did you miss me?” a raspy voice rumbles and fills the air, choking everyone who hears these words.

A crash. The chair resembling a throne has fallen with the vigor of movement from King Enji.

“Speak no lies! Touya has perished long ago!” his powerful voice on the verge of a crack, resembling a man standing at a cliff refusing to see the way down to his end.

“Father, dearest. Your words wound me so, I shall do my best to prove my worth to you,” Tou– no, Dabi clutches his chest dramatically, laughter tinting his voice, another type of crack, one that desires the jump oh-so-much.

Before any of the guards could react, everyone too shocked by the reveal in front of them, Dabi grabs a pitcher filled with water, water meant to be served to royalty.

Yet, he does not simply take a swig, rather, he lets the liquid pour onto his hair, staining his shirt with the blackness that once stained him, revealing white with such purity as snow, a white resembling the one the heads of the royal offspring.

This time, everyone else gasps, you think to see wetness rimming Princess Fuyumi’s eyes at the sight of her long lost brother. Worse even, Kind Enji’s shoulders seem to sack down, as if a sudden weight has returned to him after thinking he was free of the burden.

But no one gets enough time to process the dead coming back to life, as the whisper of metal death resounds. Dabi, who managed to get closer with each person shocked by his appearance, is now wielding a sword. The distance between him and the King is but a jump, one he’s eager to commit, even if it may lead to his demise.

“I’m remorseful, truly, but we have to say goodbye, Father, you possess something I desire and only your death shall allow me to bring it into my possession,” he grins, swinging the blade towards his very own father.

Before cold metal meets warm one, there’s noise of metal against metal. Shouto has jumped in front of Dabi and has parried his intent to kill with the will to protect. You watch as he glances towards the guards, the ones who had gotten busy with the barrage of rebels in the meantime, blocking any effort to try and defend against the true adversary.

But Shouto is still here, his sword steady in hand and mind as clear as his eyes as he locks not only swords but eyes with the brother he has never known.

“Well, isn’t it nice to meet the perfect little Crown Prince? The one who took everything away from me!”

The grin Dabi has worn turns upside down into a snarl, one filled with a different anger, an anger caused by what might have been, one that knows that everything was out of their control, yet why does he have to suffer so?

His attacks seem never stopping, only thinking about moving forwards, about defeating the opponent, barely noticing the way his skin strains, the way Shouto’s blade glides over him, making him bleed oh-so-slowly.

A slash towards the left side of Shouto, and you wince, but blood shall not be spilled and Shouto manages to parry it, even if barely with the touch of a feather. The metal clashes and vibrates, and it seems like the unending cuts and wounds, alone amounting to nothing, but together building a fountain, have started to make an effect. Dabi’s swagger turns into a stagger. His hands tremble as he holds onto the sword with all his might, still swinging and swinging and swinging. But never hitting.

You will never know what motivated Shouto, you will never know what the future holds anymore. But that’s a good thing. Nobody is supposed to know that much, and your lack of knowledge about the coming events means that doom has been subverted. So, you will never know why Shouto has simply decided to wound Dabi, to give him a last act of mercy as he saves him from himself. Maybe he wants to give him another chance, a life where he could be whatever he wanted to be, and maybe Shouto wanted a little bit more freedom. But those are your guesses, and this Shouto is the one you have known for such a long time, but a different one nonetheless.

But that doesn’t matter, you love him all the same, and with his safety secured, you don’t need to know more.

With silent steps you leave the hall, walking towards the room Shouto uses the most. With this ending, there is no need for you in this place anymore. And you should be content. But you can’t. You feel sorrow burying in your heart, digging itself into your veins at the thought of leaving him behind, of never seeing him again. But you must. How dare you stay for no reason at all? You’re not needed, and they –he– won’t miss a mere jester.

Opening the door of his office, you don’t look around, too afraid that you might change your mind at the sight of his belongings. You leave a letter, one to resign, but also one to say goodbye, and by its side you rest your mask, something that has belonged to you, but shall no more. You leave it behind to close this chapter behind you, to refuse to remember everything at its sight in your home.

And then the door clicks behind you and there’s nothing but home, nothing but the little hut in the woods waiting for you.

*-*

It has been some time since you have last visited the village. You’re going to be honest, you don’t need to. Despite the amount of money you own being enough for you to survive comfortably, you decided to make your own little garden, to cultivate your own food and to distract yourself, among other reasons.

So, of course you’re surprised when a couple of soldiers stop by your place, as most of the news never reaches your little place. They barely talk to you, rather, they ask if you live here and simply nod at your response before marching off again.

Scratching your head as you look after them, you shrug it off. As far as you’re aware, you’re not violating any laws or something. This is technically your property, so you suppose you would have a pretty strong standing if there’s a court or whatever they do around here.

What you did not expect is for another person to emerge. One that practically glows under the rays of the sun, his dual-colored hair shining like ice and fire as the breeze plays with them. At this sight you immediately drop whatever utensil you’ve been using to work in the garden. A curse under your breath and you push the hat you’re wearing lower in a weak attempt to hide your face.

Until the tips of his shoes appear in your vision and you can’t help but take a peek. Your eyes meet his and recognition flits through them.

Before you could utter any rambling excuse, Shouto kneels and takes your hand in his. He guides it to his lips. “My Savior”, he mutters against the back of your hand before he presses a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“Ah, Y-Your Highness, please, stand up,” you fret over him, yet not pulling your hand out of his grasp, a part of you had missed his feathery touches against you, him being oh-so-careful every time skin touches skin.

He stands up and his free hand brings something to your face. You can’t help but close your eyes, only to feel a smooth surface against your face. Your mask. And his hand cups your cheek as he leans down. Your eyelashes flutter, his lips meet yours and you melt into him.

You fit into his touch as a mask fits a face, and you realize that this is where you belong, this is where you should be. Not only because fate has brought you to him, but also because he made you a place by his side from the very beginning. Love can be given and received, but a place to be loved has to be made, after all.

[smol-n-smol]

Odd One Out: Chapter 1

A/N: Finally banged out the first chapter for this story based on this idea I came up with a little while ago. I hope y'all enjoy! I'll make a proper blurb at some point

Also I'm gonna be so fr, I've never done a tag list for a story before, so I'm just pulling this based on people from comments/tags who sounded like they wanted an update? If you want to be added or removed, just let me know :)

Tag List: @axolotlsdreams @seasonschange32 @tthevoic3s @kgonbeiden @coffehbeans

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With its multilevel Roman-inspired buildings and wide cobblestone paths, the Kingston Academy campus is practically a work of art in and of itself. The early morning air carries the scent of prestige and erudition along a crisp autumn breeze.

Eriel stands before the glimmering gates of the academy, building up the nerve to walk through. He’s intimidated by the size of it all, though probably not for the same reason as most new students. It’s less that he’s afraid of getting lost in such a large place, and more that he’s scared of accidentally crushing something beneath his feet.

As the first giant to attend Kingston, it’s obvious that the school was never designed with his kind in mind. Most of the three story buildings don’t even reach the height of his shoulders. Even the monumental clocktower in the center of the courtyard just barely passes his 46 ft frame. 

If Eriel really wanted to, he could probably  jump right over the entrance gate in front of him. Not that he would ever do such a thing of course!! The thought alone of accidentally damaging something (or worse, someone!) is enough to send a wave of goosebumps down his spine.

Thankfully or unfortunately — Eriel is still trying to decide whether his enrollment here is a good or bad thing — the gilded gates part, at last inviting him onto the campus. There aren’t many students out yet, which makes sense. It’s barely past 7 AM on a Monday. Given the choice, Eriel wouldn’t be up this early either. Even so, the giant’s eyes stay focused on the ground as he navigates to the gymnasium on the other side of campus.

Usually students receive their orientation packets inside the administration building, but given his impressive size, there are only a handful of buildings that Eriel can fit into at all. The gym doubles as an auditorium and a venue for special events. The high ceilings were probably originally meant for improved ventilation and added elegance, but now the only benefit Eriel cares about is that he can at least sit inside without feeling overly claustrophobic.

He enters the building through a modified loading dock door. While he still has to crouch to fit through, it’s much better than having to crawl on his hands and knees like the first time he visited the building for interviews and psychological evaluations. Now that was a humiliating experience. He had been poked and prodded, and asked the most demeaning questions. Eriel shoves those memories back into a mental box. He needs to stay focused on the present moment.

Once he reaches the main area of the gymnasium, Eriel is finally able to sit down properly. The sunlight from the windows warms his skin. While he may not feel hot and cold the way that humans do, it's  a comforting sensation nevertheless. If he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend that he’s back in the forest with his family.

He misses them, despite it only being the first day. If the integration program goes well over the next year, maybe his little sister will be able to join as well. She’d probably learn much more easily in a school than from the limited knowledge that Eriel is able to share with her every so often. It was difficult enough to teach himself most of what he knows — his knowledge a hodgepodge of information from the occasional abandoned books that sometimes wound up in the forest.

He doubts that Lora will keep up with his studies while he’s away, but a big brother is allowed to hope, right?

Just the thought of the young girl falling asleep while poring over a human textbook is enough to make Eriel chuckle aloud.

“I’m glad to see you in bright spirits today,” a voice says, bringing Eriel back to the present moment. 

Mr. Leeway, the head administrator and school guidance counselor, now stands on a walkway that wraps around the walls of the room. Eriel meets his gaze nervously, though less eye-to-eye and more eye-to-full-body. Thankfully with a giant’s enhanced vision, Eriel has no trouble with making out the details of the man before him.

“Good morning, sir,” Eriel greets in response, his back straightening as he now sits in a human’s presence. “Thank you again for allowing me to attend school here.”

The counselor  waves a hand, brushing aside Eriel’s politeness. “No need to be so formal now,” Mr. Leeway responds kindly. “You’ve more than earned your spot here after all.”

Immediately, the giant’s shoulders drop. In retrospect, those were the words he’s been hoping to hear. The ones he needed most for today.

He’s grateful that Mr. Leeway is so accepting of him. Hopefully the rest of the staff are as well. Eriel has yet to meet any of the professors at the academy. While it’s unrealistic to expect everyone to be this friendly, hopefully no one is too afraid or mean. 

As Mr. Leeway patiently talks him through the school handbook, the dorm system, and the giant accommodations scattered across the campus, Eriel can’t help but feel like maybe things will be okay.

“Any other questions?” the counselor asks, pausing long enough for Eriel to shake his head before continuing. “Perfect. Well in that case, I’ll let you get a head start towards your first class. Best of luck, kid.”

Eriel sits still until the human leaves before at last rising stiffly to exit the building.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The campus is much livelier now than it was less than an hour ago. Students walk in small groups to different destinations — some dressed in uniform and heading to classes, while other folks are still in pajamas, clearly in search of their first meal.

Eriel is one of the less fortunate folks, his first class starting at 9 AM. He’s always been a bit of an early riser, as most giants tend to be, but part of him wishes that he opted for a schedule with a later start time. He’d appreciate a bit more time before having to face his new peers.

Mr. Leeway assured him that all the students received a special training and information session on interacting with giants. In theory, everyone should be prepared for this transition. And yet, as Eriel rises to a standing position, stretching slightly to relieve his back of some of its stiffness,  it’s as if the whole world holds its breath.

Everyone stops whatever they’re doing once Eriel reaches his full height. The slight crack of his joints resounds throughout the quiet air, unintentionally drawing even more attention to the giant. 

The poor students closest to him quickly back away, and one especially frightened soul even faints. Eriel winces at that. The reception makes sense, and honestly, it could be a lot worse.

Slowly, the giant takes a step, just a small one in the direction of his class. Immediately, a group of nearby students begins to run away, despite the ample space Eriel makes sure to leave between himself and any humans. The giant sighs but continues on his way. What else can he do?

It takes only a couple of minutes for Eriel to cross the campus to his destination. The English building stands before him, just barely reaching his chest. There’s no chance that Eriel is going to be able to squeeze into the building itself, much less one of the classrooms inside. For pretty much all of his classes, he’ll have to sit outside and listen in through the windows. 

Eriel follows the instructions in his handbook packet to find the window for his first class. A large awning has been set up along that side of the building — big enough for Eriel to be able to sit beneath for protection from the weather. He’s used to sitting outside for prolonged periods of time, but he appreciates the cover anyways. It will certainly help to keep his notes neat at least.

With the few minutes he has before class begins, Eriel puts down his backpack and digs out his notebook and pencil. The set was a gift from his mom — the pages were re-usable and the pencil was designed to provide more or less endless writing. Once he settles down in his dorm, he’ll be able to type everything up on the computer that the school provided him with, but this combination is much more efficient for carrying between classes.

Intro to English Literature, Eriel writes on the first page, taking his time in making the headline look pretty. It gives him an excuse to keep his head down and avoid the watchful gaze of the other students around him.

It’s only when the bell rings that he at last looks up, positioning his face so he can clearly see the blackboard through the window.

“Good morning, class,” the professor says as she enters the room. Her brown hair is done up in a bun and a pair of quirky glasses accentuate her wide grin. Her smile falters as her eyes meet Eriel’s, but props to her for managing to keep up the expression at all. The same can’t be said for the other ten or so students sitting in the classroom, who look back at him with expressions ranging from fear to disgust to cold interest.

“I’m Professor Dockerty,” the teacher continues, her introduction regaining the attention of most of the students. One boy is a bit slower to turn away, his blue gaze unabashedly staring right at Eriel. And then, the boy — Ashton, based on his response as Professor Dockerty takes attendance — smiles at him.

Okay, it’s more of a smirk, but even that’s better than the other looks.

“Did I miss anyone?” the professor asks.

Eriel gulps but shyly raises a hand, limbs tense and heart pounding as he draws additional attention to himself. A few of the students flinch as his fingers come into view of the window, and upon seeing that reaction, Eriel immediately puts his hand back down. Hot shame rises in his chest and his cheeks burn as he realizes the fear that a simple one of his actions could cause.

“I don’t think I heard my name, ma’am,” the giant all but whispers, desperately wishing for this moment to be over already.

Professor Dockerty laughs nervously, glancing down at her papers again. “Oh my, I must have missed it. Eriel, correct? Our giant student? Great! Well, if that's everyone then let’s start by going over the syllabus.”

Eriel doesn’t get a chance to say anything throughout her ramble, but the professor is already handing out paper packets to the students.. There are just enough for everyone in the room. Eriel doesn’t even bother asking if there are any extras for him.

[makethosenarratorsfight]

UNRELIABLE NARRATORS; THE FINAL FINAL

Shen Qingqiu Propaganda:

The entire series is told from his POV and the story seems like a comedy. The side stories from other characters POVs make the story sound like a tragedy. He thought that Luo Binghe hated him and wanted him dead while everyone else knew that Binghe was in love with him.

the whole book he’s using his OWN interpretation of the world to explain literally everything, not knowing that his introduction into the world changed it so fundamentally that his prior knowledge of it is less than useless. he’s like “binghe is being sweet to me because binghe is sweet to people that wronged him before repaying their slight a thousandfold, and he only adds their acceptance of his sweetness to his tally of their sins!! i have to run away forever or he’ll tear my arms and legs off!!!!!!” and binghe in reality is like “wow the love of my life my beloved shizun is scared of me still :( i should act sweet and nonthreatening so he’s not scared of me :(“ and he literally doesn’t have this corrected until the end of the book. but even when that one thing is corrected he still is like “haha okay but these other six things-“ bro……. cucumber bro………….. you homosexualized the world just accept it

He examines the entire reality he's isekai-ed into as if it's still fictional and his inner monologue ignores any "character trait" of the people around him that doesn't fit into his perception of "canon" despite everything he's done to change reality from the canon of the novel he first read. He routinely mislabels his own emotions as well as making heteronormative assumptions about himself and the people around him before he finally realises he's in reciprocated gay love with a man. It's a book that benefits being read twice, so the second time around you can focus on the implications Shen Qingqiu blatantly misses.

Transmigrates into a novel he “hates,” assumes he’s doing a good job pretending to be the character whose body he got stuck in, assumes other characters will stick to their original paths. Lotta assumptions, lots of rationalizing, lots of incredible feats of misunderstanding/misinterpreting things. His internal narration is also hysterical.

Lemony Snicket Propaganda:

(I would like to preface this by saying that Lemony Snicket is the author's pen name, not a real person, and he exists as a character in-universe as well as being the one in-universe who writes the books!) I'd say he's unreliable because he spent time collecting information about the Baudelaire kids and then... wrote books about it. He has no idea what any of their dialogue actually was, what they were thinking, or even the whole plot, he's just doing research into the incidents and then filling in the gaps to make it a story. What ACTUALLY happened to the Baudelaires? Nobody really knows for sure

While the Baudelaire siblings are in potentially life threatening danger, he will randomly start talking about his own life and just leave the siblings hanging. For example, once Count Olaf was threatening to kill Violet, and then Lemony randomly began talking about how he met the love of his life at a costume party. This man CANNOT stay on topic. Usually when a new character is introduced, Lemony tells us right at the start that they’re either going to die or that the Baudelaire siblings will never see them again. Foreshadowing is not subtle in these books. CONSTANTLY emphasizes how miserable he feels while writing these books. At one point he admits that he had to put his pencil down and go cry for a while because of how sad it made him. Once he filled an entire page with nothing but the word “ever” to emphasize how dangerous it is to put forks in electrical outlets. He also repeated a paragraph about deja vu later on in the book to give the reader deja vu.

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

A little birthday gift for @artistic-endchamber!! I know Yuno is your blorbo so I had to make a little something something with him ^^

Hope you like it!

Pairing: Yuno x gn!reader Genre: Hurt-comfort, romance Length: ~1,2k Contains: themes of doubt and melancholy, maybe ... self-esteem issues if you squint????, but I promise a surprise, a kiss, and a fluffy ending~

Yuno had been busy lately. Which… you supposed hadn’t exactly been a new thing. Because he was busy on most days. Weeks. Months. Actually, a lot of the knights had been busy during the last couple of years because there had just been a lot going on in Clover. It seemed like something new rose everything couple of months.

Even when a larger threat had been taken care of, a new one was just as quick to rise its big ugly head. Like they were lined up, just waiting to take their turn at taking a swing on Clover.

Which… well… at least they didn’t come at you at the same time.

But. The fact remained. Yuno was busy.

You were busy.

But he was more so. Which… you kind of understood. He had a lot of responsibilities and his goals were still far ahead of himself, though they were always closer than ever before. Because he was taking steps towards those goals that still existed in the horizon every day. Even if they might have been little steps, still it was one more step ahead.

And that was one of the things that you loved about him. How aspirational he could be. How he was determined to make something of himself. How he had goals and dreams and he wasn’t afraid to pursue them. Even if there was stubbornness to it. Almost like he was blind to any other possibility than the path he had set on. Almost.

It was one of the things you loved about him. His determination. And you did love him.

You just, sometimes, wished that he’d make a little more time for you, for the two of you.

Though, the next thought, which followed the wish, was the knowledge that you had been caught up in responsibilities as well. So, it wasn’t exactly all on him either. Life had just been busy. Full of a lot of different kinds of events.

Burdens and troubles.

Life had just been… difficult, as of late.

But now… it was your birthday. And you had hoped that he’d be the first to greet you. Give you a present. Maybe at least a quick kiss and a hello before venturing to things he’d need to do during the day.

Only that he had been out the door before the first light of morning.

You didn’t exactly even know why. Or what he needed to do so early on. Not that you usually knew, precisely, what he was doing.

Sure, he kept you informed, where, roughly he was and when he was coming back but details weren’t necessary.

However… there you were, going about, on your birthday. Though they said that with age, birthdays started becoming less and less important. Which was kind of true. They certainly weren’t the same as … ten years ago, for example. But it would have been nice to do something together. Get a gesture of appreciation.

It wasn’t like you were expecting a big surprise party or anything. Just… a little something.

So, there you were, walking through the hallway of the base, wondering about it all. Trying to reason your emotions to yourself. Trying to reason how he maybe forgot, which was why he had been so quick to leave. And maybe he wasn’t good with dates. Or how his brain was buzzing with already so many things. Or maybe… some third option that you could think of as long as you kept at it.

But nothing seemed to surface. Which made a sigh escape your lips as you placed your hand onto the cool metal surface of the door handle. Its shape and feel were familiar to you, but somehow it felt heavier. As if weighed down by your disappointment, the grey clouds that were swirling around your head as if a fog that covered everything around you, and made you walk as in in a dream.

Though not a pleasant one.

Your hand pressed onto the handle, and the door opened before you.

But not to an empty room.

Not a crowded room either.

Yuno was standing there, with a bouquet of flowers in hand. There was an assortment of roses and lavenders and some golden yellow flower that made you think of his eyes. At the corner of your spacious bedroom, a courtesy of the Golden Dawn, was a small table, set with a dinner. Drinks. And to the side, there was a small dessert platter.

Your head turned to him, and though you could barely register it, your mouth was agape.

“Hey,” a simple greeting left him, as your eyes shifted between the table, the flowers, and him.

But you barely managed a reply. If the disbelieving expression on your face counted as one.

“I know I have been away a lot,” he admitted, while looking down to the depths of the floor between you. “And I haven’t been good with expressing myself about how much I care for you.” It was a fact. He wasn’t good at expressing himself in words. “But I wanted to do something…” he trailed off, as a faint blush appeared on his cheeks.

Your mouth was still agape, but now your head was turning from side to side, as if to shake of the disbelief, the stagnant state of your body and mind. Because it just didn’t-, you weren’t sure what to say? How to react. What to say.

So. You opted to say nothing. Just let our head sway from side to side.

And then your rushed across the floor.

Opened your arms and dived into his embrace. Or dived to embrace him, as he was still holding the flowers. But his arm stretched to the side to move them out of the way, and wrapped his arms around you instead.

His body felt tense, as if he hadn’t expected the hug. The emotions. The way you nearly clung to him from all the emotions. The turmoil. The thoughts that swirled in your head, but combined into a kind of static where no singular thing surfaced over the others.

Other than him.

His presence.

His scent and the way his body felt strong and secure. And as his body relaxed, as if melted into the embrace, it felt as if a shield from all the dark clouds that had been left in the hallway. A comforting blanket.

Your knight in shining armour.

“I thought…” you uttered as a whisper, and felt the corners of his mouths tug up against your skin.

“I wouldn’t. Not ever,” he replied, as if having guessed what you meant.

You parted from him, just enough to look him in the eye for a moment that felt much longer than it seemed. A breath. A whisper. A fraction of an eternity.

Until he leaned closer, and pressed his lips against yours.

A kiss to seal the words, the promise and the affirmation, that you’d never come second in his life to his goals. Not where it counted.

While both of you had your lives and aspirations… where it counted, you’d always be first. His one and only.

He might have been a man of a few words, but it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t have felt very deeply. In fact, all the words he couldn’t express, he felt. He was just trying to learn to show them to you.

[lacktastrophe]

What are your thoughts on Sue in the current chapter? She usually says she dislikes drama but participates in it. (No shade towards her. Especially since they’re all teenagers and sorta end up in these situations)

Do you have any thoughts or analysis on her here? Abbey too? Since she’s more easygoing while Abbey has a genuine grudge here

I think people misunderstand that disliking drama doesn't necessarily mean you're exempt from gossiping about drama, let alone drama you happen to be involved with. They're mutually exclusive actions. Sue's aversion to drama is like most people's in how it's an unwanted distraction that requires your attention and time that you'd rather spend elsewhere, where resolving it more often than not requires a variety of skill to masterfully navigate to a good resolution. You have messes, and this story has no shortage of them especially when the kids refuse to listen or don't yet have the means or knowledge to move past an issue. The messes aren't navigated well and become larger messes (hellooooooo The Play). So it should be understandable why she feels this way to the idea of drama. Who seriously wants drama???

Still, that doesn't mean she's averse to gossip either and as we've seen she's very keen on a little gossip.

Anyway, there's nothing really new here that I feel we haven't learned from a later chapter to do analysis on. Behind closed doors is a new chapter but it's an event that happened between Golden Hour and Dial Tone. I don't feel a deep analysis is worth it because it doesn't really add anything new particularly to Sue or Abbey. It's more to deal with correcting the flow in the story on things we have figured out to give better explanation into Paulo's behaviour during Volume 6 after Dial tone -- there being another motivator than just Abbey and the fight Paulo had with Daisy over the phone in Golden hour as reasons why Paulo is avoiding her, and why despite his talk with Matt's in the same chapter he reverted to his womanizing persona.

As far as Sue, Abbey and maybe Stacy are all concerned, with perhaps looking at the whole group by extension, there is more supporting perspective and an understanding of a conclusion I feel a lot of people might have made about Paulo's relationship with the circle of friends in that he's largely tolerated (excepting David). I feel you'd be able to pick up this notion quite early in the story just by observing Paulo and his antics objectively, but where we got an impression that the seniors in his other circle largely pity him as we read in Sugar Substitute, we get confirmation of his relationships to many of the other characters.

Depending on how this chapter ends it could give greater meaning to some of the choices Paulo makes in later chapters, like maybe further justification why he was ready to throw Mike under the bus in Double Down for a chance with Lucy for instance (though I think there's enough there to show how desperate he was for her regardless).

But yeah, Sue can't help but not gossip because Paulo is her drama -- she has to deal with him on a day-to-day basis and they're in close proximity while they're at the school. He's a debilitating presence who belittles her and makes fun of her hobbies, and there's very little that she can do about it. I feel a lot is relying on Paulo to be less of a dick than usual.

---

I was going to make a comment how Paulo had backed off on Sue but I had momentarily forgotten about Popularity Contest. Behind closed Doors is a fantastic chapter and does a fantastic job of making Stacy trip over herself in the future.

(Fuck, man, I love Popularity Contest, why was this chapter made for me?)

[sunshinestardrop]

Time for another fun daydream Ive had

Degrees of Lewdity this time because my mind is going crazy:

(May mess up genders a little bit, I play randomized with them)

So starts out the usual. MC has to start paying Baily and shit and the world sucks and all that. MC starts throwing themselves into a new job all the while trying to avoid the hell that is the town (Also im not too deep into the lore but I have a HC that all the fucked up townspeople wait until the orphans are 18 and stuff which is somehow both better and even more fucked up because imagine knowing some kids birthday just so you can fuck them (didnt people use to do that with kid celebrities too))

Overarching plot is:

MC works their ass off to make the orphanage better for all the orphans. Where MC cannot pay off all their debts as much as they wish they could, instead MC starts to teach the orphans about finances and how to make and keep money. MC eventually becomes a sort of 'bookie' for the orphans in the sense they're the only one that the others trust to handle money, and MC works their ass off to keep everything stable. MC encourages skulduggary and sort of sets up a ''honor among thieves' with the orphans where they watch each other to make sure they're not stealing from other orphans because they’re all trying to survive. Towns people are free to steal from tho.

During this time MC catches Baileys attention even more and (After the Avery gambling incident) Bailey starts having MC work for them keeping records of the actual orphanage’s money. Coincidentally this also leads to MC learning about some of the less than legal dealings Bailey has been doing with the orphanage’s money (and sometimes it seems like Bailey wants them to know more, almost like they’re preparing MC for something)

As MC delves deeper into the corrupt work, they start to take a more active part in dismantling it. When the big climax hits MC is at their lowest- broken to a point they feel unable to fix- and go for a full kamikaze move.

So here's the thing, there's like one part of the dialogue from the cafe about two out of towners coming because there's a rumor about how they can SA anyone they want to and not get in trouble there. I took that as a "so there’s something wrong with JUST this town" and ran with it.  MC, with this knowledge, get’s themselves SA’ed by the most prominent figures in town, Leighton, the mayor and shit like that, and then hitchhikes themselves out of town to another one where they get a r*pe kit tested. When it comes back there’s a full-on investigation of the entire town with MC as a sort of Mole with a microphone attached.

This leads to another gambling event- this time MC coming with Bailey instead of Avery- with MC bugged. All the prominent people are there and MC- since most of them assume MC is broken now- pretty much prepares to get SAed again. There’s a moment where MC and Baily are alone in a room, and Bailey finds the bug on MC--

--MC thinks they’re done for and that all their suffering was for nothing, but instead Bailey very calmly places the bug under Their (Baileys) shirt (which seems weird but it’s a better option, if MC were to get SAed again then the bug would be discovered, and Bailey is more likely to get better evidence as they are more trusted then MC) and heads back inside. MC follows and they collect the final- damning- evidence.

Other significant events I have are:

MC gets kidnapped by Kylar. It's awful at first and Kylar is desperate. MC eventually gets free from their bindings and tries to escape the house but is chased back by Kylar's parents. Here is where they learn about whatever the hell is wrong with them and starts to feel kind of bad. Eventually PC is released (prolly with a little bit of Stockholm syndrome) but is now concerned about Kylar and whatever the hell is happening to his family (And also with a better understanding of why he's so fucked up)

Which leads to MC making a deal with Ivory Wrath (Which they still don’t know anything about, just riding on hope at this point) to save his parents. Somehow, it works. A few days later MC runs into Kylar panicked and cared begging MC for help because something happened to his parents. MC rushes with him home to find his parents unconscious but looking better. Almost normal. MC starts to work on getting them into bed and helping them get better. Kylar is useless so MC takes charge and orders him to do stuff as they care for his parents.

As time goes on the parents finally wake up. And they’re back to themselves- shaken but normal- and MC talks calmly to them and explains how they’re Kylars friend. It’s implied that the parents vaguely know what happened but also like its all muddled. Kylar comes in at some point—

And his parents have no idea who he is.

So the idea is that kylar is FTM trans. Playing into the whole idea of him already feeling isolated and alone in this hellhole. Anxiety made it that he never thought he could transition with his parents, so when they started to change he choose to finally transition because, eventho he wanted to act like everything was fine, Kylar knew they weren’t all there and couldn’t protest.

Shit eventually get’s resolved but it takes time. MC checks up on them often.

Robin

MC gets caught up in shit. First with Robin and seeing them struggling with making money and tries to gently nudge them to get a better job at first, but when that doesn’t work (And probably after running into Whitney a few times which sparks this idea) they start to 'tough love' them and demand Robin gets a better job. Practically throwing him into the cafes doors to get him to work there.

That works well, until robin gets fired for refusing to be abused or something (the usual) but by this time MC has enough supplies to set up a booth to see their wares. MC hires robin to work there so they can work else where telling robin they will pay them per hr (Which isn’t fully true, they give Robin commission based on what Robin sells- taking a good chunk out of MCs savings but they want Robin to be ok and this is the only way they know how)

MC and robins’ relationship would mirror Baileys and the entire orphanages. An implication that MC could become what bailey is if they choose to do so.

Eden:

Playing around with some more ideas. Eden was originally an orphan too, which to me makes sense seeing as theyre distrustful of everyone and live off the grid. I also HC Eden and Bailey were probably orphans together (Bailey perpetuating the cycle of abuse and Eden choose to run from it) which is why Bailey knows Eden.

MC and Eden bond over the orphan thing. And MC makes a point to visit Eden as often as possible. This will probably be useful story wise if I can ever flesh it out enough where MC goes missing for a long time and Eden has to go to Bailey to find me- this would lead to rekindling Baileys and Eden old relationship/friendship/whatever the fuck it was they had when they were both orphans and leads to a better understanding of Baileys character.

General idea: where eden chose physical isolation after what they went through, bailey choose emotional isolation. Maybe they were in love? Fuck if I know.

Sydney:

Honestly in my mind I focus more on their parent- Sirris.

And I wanted to focus on a parent that is aware of the shit happening in the town but is also willing to let it happen as long as its not their kid. It’s a sort of situation where Sirris has a vague idea of how bad shit is but doesn’t make the full connection of how BAD it is unless they’re forced to face it head on. Living in denial thing.

As MC gets closer with Sydney Sirris is forced to see what kind of hell scape this is for the orphans first hand, and now that they personally know a child suffering from it, it becomes harder to ignore. There’s also grappling with the option to keep Sydney blind to the awful things happening to everyone in the town or to let Sydney understand whats going on- this also leads to a whole “I don’t want my kid to grow up and go where I can’t protect them, but I also want my child to become a good person/adult which means they may have to face hardships that I’m not ready for them to face”

And then there begs the question of how long a good person can turn a blind eye to others sufferings until they stop being a good person? It seems like a fun thing to explore.

Ivory Wraith:

(Forgive me, havent gotten deep into their lore yet)

MC is pretty scared of IW throughout the story. IW is an imposing figure that seems like the supposed ‘God’ in this town that has their eyes set on MC. Shockingly, MC dose not steal the neck-less like they do in game, instead it’s just there one day after another bad encounter with IW. MC cannot remove the neck-less and IW still comes to them every night on the red moon. No harm is done, but all they do is watch.

MC eventually gets it into their delusional head that IW takes a liking to them for their purity and intends to keep it that way- fearing what may happen if they upset IW. Once the final overarching plot is done MC makes their way back to the lake and begs for IWs forgiveness for not being able to stay pure.

But IW does not come, instead a person appears from the water. Similar in appearance but no longer carrying the same ethereal feel that IW did. MC asks who they are, but they don’t remember. Both sit in silence for a long time after, unsure of what to do.

The idea is that MC had this huge image of IW in their mind as a god- similar to the townspeople had of whatever god they believed in (Which may be IW?) – and in the end IW just turns out to be another human fallen victim,  now with nothing to their name just like how MC started out.

And… that’s all I got for now, seems like a fun story line to come up with.

[belltrigger]

Submastober Day 04!

Inspiration: There's an older OC-tober prompt-list here that I am using.

Title: A Late Night Event Prompt: Hidden Word count: 779 Synopsis: Ingo sees something in the sky.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Although Ingo considered his comrades in the Pearl Clan to be quite observant and astute, he had determined over the course of the last few days that none of them witnessed the strange meteor fall from the sky around ten nights ago. The event had been quite notable, he thought: a brilliant white streak in the sky, leaving a trail that resembled a scatter of twinkling stars in its wake. While it was true that it had been quite late at night, long after most of the lanterns had been snuffed for the evening, he had thought surely someone would have seen such a stunning display. But no, any inquiries he made were met with confusion; some members of his clan attempted to be polite, but there were some that seemed to think it was perhaps another symptom of his strange amnesia.

There was no doubt in his mind that he'd seen it, however. Despite the loss of his memories before arriving in this place, he retained a crystal clear knowledge and understanding of all that he learned while here. He remembered even the most minute details of that day like it had only been the night before.

The evening was cool, like many evenings this time of the year, but his breath fogged in front of his face a bit more thickly than usual. He felt antsy that night, unable to settle and even having a few of his pokemon out of their pokeballs for a bit of companionship to help potentially ease whatever was setting him on edge. Finding that he couldn't sleep, he went outside to get some air and found it to be much brighter than one would expect - he hadn't even needed his lantern.

Inexplicably, Ingo felt a tug in his chest as he watched the shimmering light etch a fading line through the sky and immediately set out to find the landing spot of whatever had fallen. The bright shine had all but disappeared from his vantage point after entering the treeline, but he was quite confident that he could find the general location of the landing. It was an area that he frequently patrolled, and even this late at night, the paths were not a difficult traversal with his chosen pokemon companions.

Of course he could never have imagined what he would find once he made it to the designated spot. Gently resting in a patch of grass, with absolutely no impact mark at all, was a young man, eyes shut as if he were sleeping peacefully. Any of Ingo's confusion was tucked behind his shock - the man was dressed almost entirely in white, including a coat that looked identical to his, though significantly less worn. Fearing he was dreaming, he knelt down to touch the fabric of the high collar pressed against the ground under the man's cheek, fingertips meeting with fabric that felt as real as his own coat. As if sensing him there, the man curled himself further in towards Ingo.

Resolve firmed then and there, he had Machamp lift up the sleeping man and help carry him back to their home. The man didn't stir again during their travel. Once under the warm glow of multiple lanterns, Ingo could see that not only did the man wear a coat similar to his, he bore a striking resemblance to Ingo himself. Younger, perhaps, but their features were almost exactly the same, and he also had Ingo's quite distinguishing hair style.

Dismissing Machamp once he had bedding set up for this mysterious new arrival, Ingo spent some time simply watching the young man. His chest felt strange, excitement at possible answers making his ribcage feel as though it was squeezing his lungs and heart, and he found it nearly impossible to tear himself away to sleep. He managed it, barely, lying awake in his futon, face turned towards the young man as he drifted off.

It had been days since the young man's dramatic arrival, but he remained in a sleep-like state. Without a firm plan to wake him up, Ingo felt it best to not reveal his presence to the other members of his clan. Perhaps it was selfish, but he wanted to be the first person seen when the young man woke up. He wanted to make sure his questions were the first answered, and that he was the one to answer any questions the mysterious young man had. For some reason, “I want to see his smile first” lingered in the back of Ingo's mind.

And so, Ingo waited for him to wake up, deeply considering what his first words would be when the man woke up.

[thevindicativevordan]

Thoughts on the new announcements on absolute comics

Anonymous asked: Hello! How are you feeling? What do you think of the new creative teams DC announced for October?

Anonymous asked: So ! What are your thoughts on the All In initiative and the new creative teams for the existing books like Action ?

txtmasterblast asked: On a scale of 0 to 10, how much are you looking forward to the upcoming Absolute Universe line?

Thought I'd save this for SDCC since there are still some rumored books that are yet to be confirmed, but I can save my thoughts for when those are officially announced. Short version is that this is extremely exciting.

Dawn of DC was DC playing it safe, and they botched the initiative because of how they spammed low quality events like Knight Terrors. Now they're stepping up to the plate and trying to tap into the energy created by Marvel's Ultimate Universe and the Energon Universe. They're trying to take a big swing and hit a home run. After multiple attempts by Didio to create something like this, it's downright ironic that Snyder finally is the one to do it given the two of them clashed at the end of their tenures. Once again Snyder seems to be trying to infuse the DCU with the essence of Metal, and at least this version appears to revolve less around Batman. I won't lie, hearing Snyder name drop Doomsday Clock and talk about "Darkseid Energy" in the promo video made me cringe.

The success of Hickman's Ultimate Universe and the Energon Universe came because they broke free of the usual shared universe comic nonsense. The Maker is an evil Reed Richards who eliminated all the heroes who couldn't be turned in order to build his perfect world. Energon was a reboot with no prior knowledge required. Simple! If the Absolute Universe requires me to know about the "Metaverse", throw it the trash because it's doomed. If the first issues of these books are not able to be read standalone with zero prior knowledge required, it's going to fail. The All-In one shot should tell us why this universe exists, what the pitch is, but it needs to be free from the kind of esoteric meta commentary which has poisoned DC for the last decade or so. Darkseid meddles with an Earth in order to understand his foes better is an easy concept to grasp. Don't make it any more complicated than that.

Absolute Batman by Scott Snyder & Nick Dragotta - Least exciting of the bunch. Unless Snyder is going to radically change up his writing style, we know how his Bruce sounds. Even without the wealth Batman usually has, I expect this will feel very familiar. Since I've dropped all the other Bat books however, I plan on getting this and two others for my Bat fix. Snyder has teased that Scarecrow and Bane are the two Bat villains he wished he could've done more with during his first run. Scarecrow is my favorite Batman villain and the thugs in the ashcan look like thugs of his to me. I think this Batman will be juicing himself with Venom, explains why he's huge, which is a much better justification for why Bane seeks this Batman out than anything they've come up with elsewhere. That logo sucks but I assume it's because this Batman has to make use with whatever he can scavenge, maybe that is a literal bulletproof plate to guard his chest which he shaped to look like a Bat as best as he could.

Absolute Wonder Woman by Kelly Thompson & Hayden Sherman - Thompson was a fan of the Azz/Chiang New 52 Wondy up until the reveal about the Amazons being rapists. Between the reuse of the silver/red color combo for this Wondy's armor, and how she doesn't have access to Paradise Island or other Amazons, I'm getting very similar vibes. I was a fan of Azz's run even though I acknowledge he "broke" her in several ways, I'm up for a second stab at a Wondy like that with Thompson. Tattoos show Hecate's symbol from Historia, perhaps this Wondy got her powers from Hecate only? My theory is Hippolyta went with her Bana sisters to war, and was never Queen of Themyscira. When she had Diana then, it was in Man's World. If this is dark urban fantasy Wondy, that would make for a good contrast with King's current political thriller run.

Absolute Superman by Jason Aaron & Rafa Sandoval - Bizarro arc was great, Sandoval is one of the best artists in DC's roster, I'm all in (hehe). No Fortress is a shame but since Bats and Wondy don't have their bases either I accept it. No family and no home is particularly intriguing. Seen a lot of speculation about what that entails, from this Superman being raised in an orphanage like the Action #1 origin, to Kal being sent from Krypton when he was old enough to remember it. If it's the latter then Absolute Kara will likely be dead, since she would overlap too much with this Superman. I love the design, grey suit with Morrison's first All-Star shield that Quietly only drew for one panel is a peak look. Hairstyle reminds me of Corenswet's "Clark" hair only longer, also reminds me of Anakin/Luke Skywalker which might be exactly the intention. His "cape" appears to be made of solar energy, perhaps this Superman has trouble controlling his powers? His solar battery biology might work differently here, with him "leaking". Or perhaps he even has a different powerset entirely? Seems like he can channel power into his arms/fists, if we get heat/ice fists instead of vision/breath, that would be the kind of silliness I love. Don't think this Superman will be paired with Lois, which frankly is a good thing. All the other major Superman projects focus on the Clois romance, for this to stand out I believe Absolute Superman needs to be dating other people. Since he seems to be a drifter, Aaron might eventually have him travel to other planets, where we could get Maxima or someone entirely new.

Other books have leaked and are probably right considering Bleeding Cool accurately called the Trinity, but I'll wait until they get revealed officially - likely at SDCC - before giving my thoughts.

For the mainline universe:

Justice League - Superman is apparently building a new JL that will be going after Darkseid and reshaping the cosmic hierarchy of the DCU. If DC had any brains left in their collective heads they would give this book to PKJ, but he's denied being on JL. Ram V still has a book to announce, maybe it's him? I would've said Waid but without Mora I don't think he'd take the job. Aaron is a possibility albeit not one I'd want. Seen some people say Lemire, and he did write the JL crossover with his Black Hammer verse. Please let it not be Taylor.

Superman - Mora joining the book took me by surprise, that is sure to have generated major fuming from certain corners. Doomsday arc is going to be a joy to look at

Action Comics - Waid and Henry are finally announced. Action going weekly was unexpected however. Only question I have is, does this mean Waid is staying on past that one arc? Not clear but since he will have more issues that the previous three Superstars I would assume so. Bitter as I am over PKJ getting kicked off before he could tell the Aethyr story he was building up to, Waid bringing in Morrison's Phantom King does make me happy.

Detective Comics - Taylor taking over made me breathe a sigh of relief. For now he remains quarantined to the Batbooks and Elseworlds.

Nightwing - Watters and Soy are going to finally give us the epic run Nightwing deserves. Watters deserves to be a "big writer" and with any luck this will be what elevates him to that level.

Batman & Robin - Damnit PKJ, you really going to make me read a mainline Bat book? Fine but you better continue the Olgrun plotline through this somehow. In all seriousness with Zdarsky and Taylor being on the other books I expect this will be the best mainline Batman book on the stands. Every previous time PKJ has written Batman has been enjoyable, and I trust him of all writers to do something different with Batman. Let this be the book that gets the general DC audience to take notice of how good he's been elsewhere.

Titans - Nah.

Green Arrow - Wish Montos luck, he deserves to be one of DC's A-List artists, but not interested in Green Arrow.

Exciting shake-ups are on the way, going to have to start trimming my pull again. Anything that doesn't wow me is getting dropped because I need the cash for all those Absolute books, which appear to be stacked creatively.

[where-theres-smoak-2]

Since the announcement that Dune part three is in development I've watched a couple of youtube videos and read some articles announcing the news, talking about potential release dates and just generally talking about what they want for the third installment and in the comment section of them there seems to be a lot of discussion around how true to the book the third film will be.

Some are saying that they think Villeneuve will stick closely to the book Dune Messiah, others are saying that he will throw the book out completely and just make up his own story for the third film. Some are saying that after the changes made in Dune Part Two, particularly with the changes to Chani's character arc, its now impossible for him to stay true to the book.

Now I haven't read the book so not only do I have very limited knowledge of the book, I also don't have any special attachment to it. So my following views on the subject are coming from that perspective and are based on the two films I've seen and some comments that were in these articles/comments section.

(So mild book spoilers here, you can learn this from reading the blurb of the book.) One thing I did learn is that the book the third film will be based on, Dune Messiah, is actually set 12 years after the end of Dune Part Two's events. We don't see the holy war, we only see the aftermath. Personally I found this news a little disappointing because I feel like they've been revving the audience up with this holy war for the last two movies and so I was really looking forward to seeing it, to seeing just how far Paul goes, whether he tries to hold back at all, whether he has moments of hesitation etc, I was just really hyped to see this war they kept going on about. That being said I do think that seeing the aftermath would still be interesting too.

I've also seen some people say that the book itself won't translate as well to film as the first book does, apparently it has a lot less action and is more political intrigue, as one article put it, its a lot of people sitting in a room and talking. Again haven't read the book so I don't know how accurate that is, but on a similar vein, I've seen a few people say that whilst the book is good its nowhere near the level that the first book is and so they are worried the third film could be a let down for non-book readers.

So as I said above, lots of opinions going around, mostly from book readers because naturally they know a lot more about what is coming than us non-book readers. But it got me thinking how might Villeneuve approach the film and work around some of the concerns I've seen being discussed, the main ones seeming to be, there not being enough action/ it not translating well to screen and how they are going to deal with Chani, as it seems she plays a vital role in messiah and kind of needs to be at Paul's side in order to fulfil that role. So here are my theories and guesses at how Villeneuve might approach the last film. Again these are just my own speculations and opinions.

This first one could definitely be influenced by my own wishful thinking, but one way they could add a bit more action to the film is to spend say the first hour, for example, showing the holy war and using the time to explain how and why Chani returns to Paul, the birth of Alia maybe, etc and then have the time skip to 12 years later and cover the events of Messiah. These films usually have a long run time so if they keep the long run time for this film maybe they'll be able to cover both events. I do believe that the messiah book is considerably shorter than the Dune book, but then the Dune book was split into two films so I am not entirely sure on how well it would work. I guess it would depend on how well it is written.

Another possibility is what some have suggested and that they just throw the book out pretty much completely. The argument here being that Herbert wrote Messiah because when his first book came out the audience didn't get his intended message that Paul wasn't the hero, so he wrote Messiah to really hit home his message that this was a story about the dangers of false prophets and not a hero's journey type story. However Villeneuve has already achieved this message in Dune part two, which could give him some leeway to take the story in a new direction and add his own spin on it. It could also be an opportunity to make the story more appealing to modern audiences, the books were written in the 60's so political and world views were a little different than today. I do think that might be part of the reason why they changed Chani's character, the loyal concubine who follows along with the false saviour's crusade might not have been all that appealing to a more modern audience. The flip side of that though is that abandoning the book completely might not be a popular decision amongst the book readers. So you could end up alienating one side of the audience in favour of making the story your own and trying to appeal more to the general audience.

The third way could be to stick as closely to the books as you can given the changes made in part two. Villeneuve could just start the film with a narration from one of the characters like he did with Chani in part one and Irulan in part two, maybe this time they could have a narration from Paul himself explaining what happened in the war and how and why Chani came back to him etc, setting the scene so to speak. Then from then out just follow whatever happens in the books. Personally I don't know how satisfying I would find this but it would at least follow the same pattern as the other two films if it opens with a narration.

One other thought I had was they could keep the time-skip for the film but have a miniseries that is set during the holy war, I know they are already doing a miniseries covering the bene gesserit so maybe they can also do one showing the war to fill in the gaps. However I think this would be highly unlikely as I don't think they'd have the time to film both a mini series and an actual film. But you never know maybe we'll get really really lucky.

Out of all the possible options, I personally think the first one would be the best option. It would be the best of both worlds, the book readers will still get to see the book adapted, but spending some time at the beginning of the film showing the war could add that needed action and make it more exciting for those who haven't read the book and who might otherwise be disappointed.

But I am curious to know what others think. If you haven't read the book how do you feel about there being such a large time-skip? Do you care if they skip over the war? Or if you are a book reader are you hoping they'll stay close to the book or do you share the same opinion as some of the other comments I saw saying it won't translate well to film? How important do you think the change to Chani's character is and do you agree with those saying it has messed things up going forward? I am very curious to know. All of this being said I am still very excited that they are making a third film and I trust that no matter what direction he chooses to go Villeneuve will deliver another amazing piece of media for us.

[battle-of-alberta]

Got a question for Drum to round out my camping trip themed asks! While dinosaurs aren't exactly paranormal, the current town of Drumheller does contain the hamlet and ghost town of Wayne. Have you ever brought Paula and Vulcan with you to check it out? For that matter, what's it like living by a ghost town? And what (if anything) does that do to the municipality representative that lived there?

to be continued...?

(wahoo answered in less than a year hooray!)

We did pass by Wayne on our way into Drumheller but didn't stop, by that time we were so tired and ready to go home hahaha. As usual, Drumheller belongs to @zomsaurus (and who has dibs on designing Wayne too hahaha) (let us know when you go on your research trip :) )

Some more notes...

Meta Stuff

this is kind of my feeling on what makes a personification exist. I think if a town's population was relocated or only exists in memory, their connection to our world starts to fade

(This is also why non-municipal personifications like nations would probably be a bit tougher and more resilient, to a point.)

(and I'm still concerned about something like Fort Walsh that was rebuilt as an educational tool as kind of a reanimated corpse? lol)

Wayne technically exists as part of Drumheller, like a microcosm of how Strathcona exists as part of Edmonton, so I think amalgamation is one way to cheat death also.

In Hetalia canon there has been one case where a micronation "gave up" and "went back to being a human", though I'm not sure that interpretation works with the way I do things. Interesting to think about, anyway!

A bit more on the Hetalia approach: Prussia is "retired" and it's suggested in this linked scan that he's slowly becoming increasingly mortal. Ancients like Rome will still appear in the dreams of their descendants as well.

the votes are in and the chat thinks Wayne should be half ghost like Danny Phantom

Some fun facts about Wayne

Last I heard, Wayne's population was 28 whole people! At its peak, it had about 2,500.

I think the Rosedeer Hotel / Last Chance Saloon is under new management now, but it's one of the big attractions. If you don't mind the shared washroom down the hall, perhaps the honeymoon suite is for you!

The saloon also has real bullet holes in the walls (framed), though they're from an incident in the 1970s rather than the 1910s

How is Wayne related to Red? Kid sibling? haha. Coal town origins, as is true of many ghost towns...

Waynestock is a big music festival/camping event in early September. It lasts 3 days and features about a hundred artists!

You might recognize Wayne in the movies. Shanghai Noon was partially filmed there!

Other notes...

I keep writing Drum as the "normie" or straight man of the gang even though next to anyone else he isn't normal at all, haha. He just is devoted to the scientific method, that's all! and also jesus

finally my knowledge of star trek comes through for me again on this blog B) remember, you can survive a shoot out at the OK Corral so long as you believe in yourself (though a mind meld doesn't hurt) :)

[dameronscopilot]

Pretending (or not)

Cassian Andor x reader

Summary: Given Cassian's perpetual distaste for all things merry and festive, his offer to be your fake date for your company's holiday party is surprising, to say the least.

Word Count: 1.3k

Content: modern au, fluff, fake dating, first kiss

Prompt: Fake dating for a work holiday party + confessing feelings

DECK THE HALLS MASTERLIST

Cassian Andor is not a fan of Christmas.

He hates the commercialized commodification of it all.

He hates the bustling madness of the city in the weeks leading up to the holiday.

He hates the soul-crushing anxiety of gift shopping and the unrealistic expectations that accompany it.

He hates the explosion of glitzy decor that decks every hall and the endlessly cheery music that he can’t seem to escape. 

And it’s this knowledge that makes his presence at your side now at your work’s holiday party completely and utterly baffling.

–

Last week, Cassian, Bix, and Brasso were gathered in your living room with several boxes of pizza spread out across your coffee table and a movie playing in the background. After peeling away a stray mushroom that had found its way onto the slice in your hands, you’d groaned as your phone screen lit up with an email reminder about the party in question. 

“I thought you said Luthen throws great parties, aren’t you usually excited?” Bix had asked.

At that, you’d told them all about your coworker that, as of late, is utterly incapable of taking the hint that you simply aren’t interested in conversing with him, much less spending time with him outside of work. You’ve yet to find a moment to inform your boss of what a bother the man has become, and thus you weren’t keen on subjecting yourself to an entire extracurricular evening in his vicinity. You’d resigned yourself to the only surefire avoidance tactic: skipping the event entirely. 

And then Cassian had suddenly spoken four words that left the room's occupants silent for a beat—

“I’ll come with you.”

Brasso had choked on his drink mid-sip, and Bix turned down the volume on the television as she gaped at him. 

Despite the fact that everyone in the room was entirely certain that Cassian would never be caught dead at a Christmas party, much less any other festive gathering, he had the gall to shrug as he took in the surprise on the faces surrounding him.

Snatching the abandoned piece of crust on your plate as he often did, he'd taken a bite and shrugged, swallowing before adding, “Well, you need a fake date, right?”

–

The sounds of partygoers animatedly talking and laughing bounce off of the museum’s high ceilings, which are strung to and fro with an exorbitant amount of garland, bows, and soft white lights. You steal a glance over at Cassian, who’s ignoring the assortment of alcohol-fueled, holiday-themed games in the boardroom that the rest of the guests are flocking to in favor of observing a new exhibit that was installed earlier in the month.

Given that he’s far too absorbed reading the placard for the antique biplane roped off in front of him, you let your gaze linger longer than usual on his form for once. You’ve always appreciated Cassian’s rugged winter look—his hair long with rogue, wayward strands and a full, glorious beard adorning his face. After you assured him that he by no means needed to dress up this evening, he’d opted for a dark green flannel shirt that you’d given him for his birthday last year. Paired with black pants that hug his thighs far too well and his brown leather boots that you hardly ever see him without, Cassian just looks really fucking good. 

And well, he always looks good.

It’s something that you can’t help but notice, regardless of how desperately hard you try to tamper down the way you feel about him. They’re feelings that fizz out of control like a shaken bottle of soda at times like these, threatening to come pouring out—gravity be damned—should you lose your precarious grip on the lid.

Distracted by your own thoughts, you nearly jump at the feeling of a hand wrapping snugly around your waist. And though you begin to relax when you realize it’s just Cassian, you immediately tense up again at the warmth that crawls up your spine in reaction to the way his fingertips press into your hip bone through the fabric of your dress. 

“That’s him, right?”

Your breath hitches in your throat when Cassian brings his lips to the shell of your ear to ask you the question, his breath hot against your skin. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Syril Karn, who’s predictably overdressed as he begins to make his way over to you.

“Yep,” you groan quietly, tone laced with dread.

“Look at me,” Cassian murmurs, letting his fingers skate across the curve of your jaw.

Silent warning bells echo in your head as you turn to him, heart leaping at his close proximity when his nose brushes against yours. It would be far too easy to ki—

Cassian beats you to the punch, his mouth seeking yours out in a slow, tender kiss that sets your insides alight, your nerve endings tingling as his hand slides down the side of your neck, his thumb brushing over your skin in a gentle caress. 

Your hand finds its way to one of the pockets on the front of his shirt, your fingertips pressing into the cool metal button holding down the flap. Momentarily forgetting that this is all a festive ruse, your mind reels at the feeling of Cassian’s tongue darting out to meet the seam of your lips, and you fist your hand in the material, pulling him closer. He cups the back of your head in return, his soft lips sliding against yours for another moment before you’re interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat, followed by your name.

The two of you break apart, and you will the erratic beating of your heart to slow as you turn to glance at Syril, though your face heats up as you feel Cassian take one of your hands, threading his fingers into yours.

"Syril," you acknowledge him evenly.

“I’m pleased you could make it, I know last week you said you weren’t certain about your plans for the evening,” Syril observes, straightening his collar, though it’s already ironed stiffly enough to poke someone’s eye out. 

“Oh. Yeah, it ended up working out. This is Cassian, by the way.” You awkwardly gesture to Cassian, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

Syril nods in his direction. “Ah, are you a friend?”

Cassian stiffens beside you. “Boyfriend, actually.”

He tries to hide it, but Syril blanches for a split second, though he quickly composes himself, clasping his hands together. “How lovely. Is this...new?”

On the drive over, you’d come up with a vague story about getting together recently, if anyone were to ask. But just as you go to open your mouth to tell Syril exactly that, Cassian interrupts, “Not at all. It’s been a few years, actually.”

Syril’s clearly deflated at this point, shoulders drooping, and after another few minutes of failed small talk, he mumbles an excuse to make himself scarce, ambling away in the opposite direction. 

You turn to Cassian, almost annoyed by how easily it had been to ward off Syril in comparison to every other overbearing interaction you’ve ever had with him—as if your lack of interest alone wasn’t enough of a valid reason without the addition of a fake relationship. Crossing your arms, you’re on the verge of griping about it, but the words die on your lips when you catch the odd look on his face.

“I can’t pretend anymore,” he breathes out.

Your heart sinks. “I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable, we can go—”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Cassian takes your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles, and he continues, “I can’t keep lying to myself about the way I feel about you.”

You sway slightly on your feet. Carefully, you ask, “And…how do you feel about me?”

He leans in, his chest brushing against yours as he brings a tentative hand up to the side of your face. “I want to kiss you when nobody’s watching, too. I want this to be real.”

His mouth hovers near yours, a breath away. Waiting.

“It is,” you whisper, a tidal wave of emotions thrumming in your chest as you close the distance between your lips and his.

—

Comments, reblogs, and/or asks are always appreciated!

» CASSIAN ANDOR MASTERLIST

[scarletttries]

Ride My Sleigh Tonight (Kendall Roy Request)

Pairing: Kendall Roy (Succession) x F! Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.5k

Author's Note: A little Christmas gift of smut for all my Kendall homies <3 Thank you to everyone sending me these headcanons, please send more Kendall thoughts anytime, I love to read them ☺️💕

Ride My Sleigh Tonight (part of my Christmas List)

The hours seemed to pass like sticky treacle as you and Kendall did lap after lap of the latest corporate event on the Waystar Christmas calendar. Between standing under less than coincidental Mistletoe for photo opps, Kendall getting a heartfelt, but drawn-out, thank you for his donation to whichever organisation was hosting tonight, and then finally collapsing in a town car home for the night ready to repeat the day scene-by-scene tomorrow, you and Kendall had hardly had a moment alone together since December began.

Tonight as Kendall squeezed your hand, leading you down the grand marble steps of whichever exquisite gallery played venue together, you heard him mutter softly, "I miss you." Despite barely having left each other's sides for more than a moment all week, you knew exactly what he meant. The two of you had been forced to spend so much time putting on appearances you felt more like a prop than a person at Kendall's side, the goofy, funny, kind man you love hidden behind corporate talk and well-rehearsed lines. Climbing into the back of a tastefully decorated limousine, tinted black windows finally hiding you from the sea of prying eyes, you let yourself steal a moment of sincerity, leaning across the expansive backseat and resting a hand on the side of Kendall's face, thumb brushing softly over his cheek,

"I miss you too 'dall, but I'm always right here." Your lips met his before his smile could fully form, somehow always knowing exactly what the once hollow man needed to hear to feel complete again. Wrapping an arm around your waist he kept you close beside him as he leaned into your kiss, ensuring the two of you took up a little space in the stretched out vehicle as possible.

"I love you." He breathed, before turning his attention to the front of the car. "We're ready, and screen up please." In your focus on Kendall you'd completely missed the open partition between you and the driver, a little embarrassed that your private moment hadn't quite been as private as you hoped, relieved when the driver nodded in response to Ken and the black screen between the compartments began to rise. Kendall let out a soft laugh at the blush creeping up your cheeks, always caught off guard at the reminders that you weren't quite used to this lifestyle yet. Subconsciously you tugged at the edge your cocktail dress, trying to retain some dignity at the knowledge someone else was in the car with you. Watching you squirm in your seat by his side, Kendall couldn't help but think how adorable you looked, wondering just how flustered he could make you in the time it took to reach home, for once praying New York traffic wouldn't be on your side.

Starting subtle he placed a hand on your thigh, running his thumb just under the hem of your dress, testing the waters and watching your posture straighten at his touch. You kept your gaze forwards, trying to nonchalantly take in your surroundings, not wanting to give away the sparks flying with even his gentle strokes. Watching your face intently his hand drifted a little higher, slowly disappearing under the silky fabric as your eyes grew wider, trying to see reason despite how much you'd missed the feel of his devious fingers.

"Ken, he'll hear." You whispered under your breath, nodding towards the front of the car as if that would deter the devilish glint in Kendall's eyes.

"You'll just have to be quiet then, beautiful." He almost smirked as he said it, the chorus of noises he usually drew from you enough to tell him that wasn't going to be easy. As you considered your position, he withdrew his hand, your thighs suddenly feeling cold without him between them. "Come here." He patted his lap, grin so warm and inviting you almost forgot any reservations as you shifted from your seat. As you settled across his thighs, Kendall watched the loose fabric of your skirt rise up, catching a glimpse of the thin sliver of fabric underneath keeping him from exactly where he intended to be. Every part of you felt sensitive as your centre met the slight bulge growing through Kendall's designer trousers, a bump in the road knocking your position slightly and sending vibrations through your core. Kendall watched engrossed as you bit down on your bottom lip, desperate to keep your whimpers to yourself as you swayed your hips slightly against him, not in control as your thighs rubbed together. He could see the flush forming in your cheeks in anticipation as he brought his hand back between your thighs, inching closer to where you ached for his touch.

"You've been a very good girl this year." He teased as his fingers traced over the thin fabric covering your entrance, entertained by the slight flinch the contact caused. "You deserve all the fucking presents." His voice grew deeper as his fingers moved your underwear to the side, free hand wrapped around your waist to ensure you had to stay put while he played with you. Slowly he dipped his index finger into your entrance, the welcome intrusion pulling a soft gasp from you, unsure how you'd lasted this long without feeling him inside you. After a few gentle curls against your walls he withdrew his finger, bringing the fresh coat of slick to your clit and tapping against it in a steady rhythm, giving you only a moment of desperate friction at a time.

"Already so wet, I think you like me touching you when someone might hear you." His breath was hot against your neck as he spoke, each word punctuated by the tip of his finger meeting your clit, now throbbing for his attention. "Maybe we should stop? After all, I don't want anyone else knowing how fucking hot you sound when you come."

"Kendall please," You whispered, pleading tone exactly what Kendall needed to hear.

"Please what, gorgeous? Use those pretty words."

"Please touch me." Kendall loved to hear you beg for his touch, the power he held over your pleasure intoxicating to him like nothing else.

"Good girl." He praised as he plunged two fingers inside you, thumb taking over from his finger, but rather than short teasing taps, it rubbed firm slick circles over your aching clit, the sudden change in pace making it near impossible to keep still in his lap.

"God I love watching you get worked up. You get so sensitive, so desperate to cum." He breathed into your ear, keeping his voice low enough to make you feel like you still had to be quiet, struggling with every passing second to keep your moans inside. You could only nod your head to his comment, afraid if you opened your mouth for even a breath his name would fall from your lips at a volume half the city would hear.

He could feel the way your hips were rocking against his hand, chasing his every touch, the pressure inside you climbing towards your desperate release.

"Do you think I should make you cum?" He whispered into your ear, fingers reaching inside you in time with the strokes of your clit, your thighs trembling around his hand as bucked your hips into his touch. You nodded your head sharply, so close to release you could feel it throbbing inside you, every muscle starting to tense.

"Use your words. Or I'll stop." He bargained, exhilarated watching you carefully open your mouth, eyes locked on his in pleading desperation,

"Please." You breathed out, the pressure inside you threatening to betray your attempts to be quiet. Kendall could feel you twitching around his fingers, his own aching excitement straining against his belt, mind racing with all the ways he wanted to ruin you tonight, to make you scream his name like you didn't care who might hear it.

"Let me cum, Kendall." You could feel the devotion in his movements as he brought you over the edge, your pussy clenching down on his fingers as you soaked them, thighs shaking with the waves of bliss washing over you. You knew his name had come out louder than a whisper, the high pitched moan echoing unmistakably through the vehicle, but as you felt your muscles start to relax against his warm chest, you couldn't bring yourself to feel anything but happy.

"We'll be home soon, and then we'll see just how loud you can say my name." Kendall's voice was warm and soft as he wrapped his arms around, unwilling to relinquish your from his lap or his life.

[kage-567]

Sukugo fic recs [part 3]

Lay waste to all I thought I knew by Luluwoo

Gojo Satoru, the current wielder of the Six Eyes and the Limitless curse technique, had a secret. Born with a mark of unknown origin and meaning, Satoru's place in this world had, without his knowledge, long been decided by the Universe itself. When he comes face-to-face with the one who bears the same, exact mark, he is once more caught up in the crossfire between the fate of the world, and the fate of his heart. ********** Ryoumen Sukuna, the King of Curses and the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer in History. His reincarnation into the modern world should have spelled the beginning of his new reign of terror. Instead, it spells the beginning of the end for the life he had once known. A blue-eyed menace and a prophecy from a thousand years ago forces the King of Curses to make a decision : A life of endless bloodshed and the thrill of the kill, Or the chance to love Gojo Satoru.

4 Times Gojo ("Accidentally") Kisses Sukuna (To Shut Him Up) And The 1 Time Sukuna Wasn't Having It by YunaYamiMouto

Ever since he ingested the first of Sukuna's Fingers, the King of Curses had these special days when he was simply insufferable. And no matter what Yuuji or his friends did, more often than not, they couldn't get him to buzz off. The first time Gojo-sensei hears wind of this and gets involved, though, they learn that the Strongest Sorcerer has a simple trick to keep Sukuna in check on his annoying days.

Divine Beings by rainbow333

After the events of Shinjuku Showdown, Ryomen Sukuna is seperated and transformed into his original human body and taken prisoner by Satoru Gojo, who had miraculously survived what seemed like certain death. Expecting the usual torture methods of teeth and fingernail removal, Sukuna came to realise Gojo had something far more agonizing in mind. Being forced to adjust to this dreadful modern world and help him search for something that could change Jujutsu Society for good.

What The Heart Wants by Asahel

If anything life had taught him, it was to be patient and Sukuna can be as patient as he needs to be. And waiting for the opportunity to arise…he'll have the Six Eyes for himself. He always gets what he wants in the end.

The Only Path that Matters, is the One that leads Me to You by Luluwoo

Sukuna fears nothing. As the King of Curses, a God among the mortals, he is at the top of the food chain and lives accordingly : When he is hungry, he eats. When he is tired, he rests. When he wants to kill, he slaughters. The world bows to him and no force exists that could challenge his might. Though, with the position of power he holds, there are few things that are able to offer him sufficient entertainment. Let alone anything that captures his attention for more than moments at a time. At least, that is the case until he decides to venture down the road less travelled and meets a beautiful stranger. One with eyes made of gemstones, and a voice made of memories. Bewitching. New. Interesting. A treasure.

How long is Forever? by Luluwoo

Being sealed in the Prison Realm was, unfortunately, nothing new for Gojo Satoru. What was new, however, was being sealed in the Prison Realm with someone else. Someone who he had never envisioned spending any amount of time with. Outside of the time it would take to fight them to the death, of course. But, when trapped in a world that no longer made sense and experiencing feelings he thought he'd buried long ago, his cellmate might end up being the only thing that keeps Gojo from going insane.

I Live More in Your arms by Luluwoo

"To find the way back home, you must first find each other." ••••••••• When what should have been a simple mission goes awry, the balance of the world shifts, Infinity breaks apart, and Gojo and Sukuna are magically transported to an alternate universe. A place lost in time, controlled by a Deity that is more familiar, and dangerous, than they could ever imagine. While trapped in this strange world with unknown rules and laws, tensions rise as the pair are forced into situations that end up bonding them in the most unexpected of ways. Love and Hate are two sides of the same coin and that fact has never been more true than with these two. Their fates are tied together now. For better or for worse. This is something they will both come to realise…but at what cost?

I (We) Alone, the Honored One(s) by kat_4

The story I've always wanted to tell.

Obsession by EvolvingCatFish

When Gojo jolted awake, the memories of the airport had long been erased from his mind. What was left in its place was a splitting migraine and enough pain that could last a normal person a lifetime. But Gojo wasn’t normal. Or alive. He was supposed to be dead. (continuation of jjk ch 236)

|Part 1| |Part 2| |Part 3|

[dubiousduskwight]

Day 14: Telling

The hunting party as a group stopped in their tracks not half a bell after they’d crossed the Gates of Judgment. The game here was less dangerous thanks to the increased military presence, and if somebody was badly hurt or lost in a snowstorm then Camp Dragonhead and Whitebrim were both close enough that aid could be sought and a rescue party summoned. Matthieu had planned to insist on this when his parish’s shooting club had invited him along, but to his relief he needn’t have concerned himself, as this was part of their usual route.

The club was a small one, the product of a few citizens in the parish coming into money thanks to Ishgard’s increased trade volume and deciding to put that coin to use acquiring some of Skysteel’s newest products. None of them were able to afford the aetherotransformer unit that turned the average rifle into a multi-faceted man-portable weapon of mass destruction, but having access to rifle and shot still made them feel like they were part of the new Coerthas and afforded them the chance to go out on hunts without years of training in spear or bow.

They’d insisted on Matthieu coming along at least once, and while he was generally well-liked by most of his constituents, he had to admit that he was most popular with the kind of people who got along with his aunt: older ladies who enjoyed their tea and gossip, found his willingness to help around the store to be charming, and lightly teased him about his relationship with Edda. That was enough of the parish to have gotten him elected, but he had to admit that getting others to like him more would help in the next election. In this case, that meant agreeing to attend one of the Crozier 4th’s Official Club of Jolly Fellows once-a-moon hunts.

The title was not of his choosing.

And so he’d agreed, gotten some assistance from his fellows in the Commons in selecting an easy-to-use carbine and how to load, point, and fire it without embarrassing himself, allowing for the knowledge that this was his first time out, and met up with a dozen of the Fellows at the Gates. The plan had been to traipse about the snows between the Gates and Whitebrim, take a few cloudkin or a wild karakul if the opportunity presented itself, then head back to help themselves to some beet stew and sort out who was the best and worst shot while their catches were prepared.

It was a cloudy morning, and while the cloudwatchers had suggested a mild chance of snow, visibility was still clear. The group had a clear view of the Nail interrupting the highlands in one large series of jagged peaks, and of what had stopped them: a single dragon, perched on one of the larger outcroppings, observing the comings and goings of the wildlife on the ground below.

“Fury, would you look at that.” Alort, the parish cobbler, made a quick sign of prayer to Halone, his tone of voice breathless. It wasn’t clear to Matthieu if he spoke in awe or fear.

“Never thought I’d see one of those without taking to my heels,” said Gaspardieux, the carpenter. “Still feels like I ought to.”

“That makes sense.” Matthieu kept his composure while he replied, simply raising a hand to the dragon in greeting. Events surrounding his election had given him more benign exposure to the Dravanian Horde than the average commoner, and he kept abreast of efforts to repatriate those who had turned into aevis and wished to return to the city. “I’m sure it’s just as wary.”

If the dragon had even seen Matthieu’s raised hand, it didn’t show it, simply lowering its head to rest it on its forelegs. “Mayhaps if we were knights or dragoons it’d be wary,” said Gaspardieux. “But I left my chainmail at home and haven’t perched on any high places of late.” The other Fellows chuckled, the tension easing.

“It’s a lovely color, isn’t it?” said Ophoix, the local gemcutter. “Like sapphires, but a little deeper.” He stepped forward, shielding his eyes from the clouds to get a better look. “I’d love to see it up close.”

“I don’t think you’ll be turning that into a stone fit for a brooch anytime soon, Ophie,” said Gaspardieux.

“I wouldn’t!” Ophoix stepped back, holding up his other hand in protest. “But surely, just a scale. Mayhaps we could ask.”

“No.” The statement was short, sharp, and firm, and came from Aubineaux, the parish tailor. The others took notice; while the Fellows had no official leader, it was Aubineaux who took the hunts most seriously, did most of the organizing, and led the other members in drills to improve their marksmanship. “Let it come to us if it likes, but otherwise we keep our distance.”

There was some grumbling from the Fellows, but Aubineaux stood firm, turning to face them from the head of the group. “No.” Grim-faced, with heavy eyebrows and a stocky build for an elezen, the tailor didn’t match up to the “Jolly” part of the club’s name. Matthieu suspected the title wasn’t of his choosing, either.

“Well, what’s it doing here, anyway?” The question came from Constant, one of the local tutors. Matthieu frowned; to his recollection, Constant had been one of the more reactionary voices in the community in Ishgard’s recent upheavals. Some had thought he was one of the True Brethren, in their brief existence, but he’d denied this ever since their disbandment. “It’s quite far from Dravania.” “I’m sure the knights are aware of it,” Matthieu replied. “If we’re going to be at peace, we have to have some free movement, and simply live with a little suspicion. Perhaps it’s simply enjoying time where it wouldn’t be otherwise.”

“I don’t know,” said Alort. “You wouldn’t catch me going past Falcon’s Nest, let alone Tailfeather, and certainly not out in their own lands simply because I could. It doesn’t mean I ought.”

“We don’t even catch you leaving even the parish, Alort,” said Gaspardieux. The cobbler puffed out his cheeks in annoyance.

“And we already have their dragonets in the Firmament,” said Matthieu. “And the returning aevis and so forth. I simply mean there’s a good reason for it, no doubt.”

“Good or ill, we’re wasting time.” Aubineaux gestured down the trail towards the Whitebrim Front. “And losing good bells when we could be catching karakul with no snow to cover their tracks.”

“What a catch it would be though, eh?” Constant mused on this, watching the dragon with a speculative expression. “In worse times, of course.” “Of course,” said Matthieu. “But only in worse times. Remember what happened to Flaurienne Mollet?”

The Fellows all collectively winced. Mollet, who had stood for another parish in the Crozier, was scandalized to have been involved in the poaching of dragon leather after the conclusion of the Dragonsong War, and had been forced to resign in disgrace.

Before any further debate could be had, Gaspardieux pointed upwards at the dragon. Following his arm, the group saw a pair of smaller figures flitting about the dragon. “Have a look, it’s just brought its children on a little outing, you see? Nothing wrong with that.” There was a long silence among the group as they watched the wyrmlings flit about the outcropping. The dragon briefly snapped its maw in the air, as if to chide them, and then settled down again. After a minute, Matthieu found he misliked it.

“We certainly shouldn’t get close if that’s the case. Aubineaux, could you lead us to some tracks, if you please?”

“Yes.” Despite his refusal, at this point even Aubineaux was watching the dragon. “Come along now.”