#i mean it was kind of triggering but like

[fandoms--fluff]

Hideout

Wife reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: your husband and a bunch of strangers show up at your house in the middle of the night.

Warnings: John walker, swearing

A/n: The car they have is a mini van instead of the van they had in the movie, so with actual seats and that stuff - so minor change, that's all.

^the car seating plan

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

"Where are we going?" Ava asks, being the third person in the last ten minutes to ask Bucky this. "We'll be there shortly" He grounds out, the same response he's given the last two times.

John is about to say something but is quickly stopped by the glare wielded his way from Yelena. From the past three days of knowing him, she's gotten used to knowing that whenever he opens his mouth, something stupid comes out. Every. Time. And every time, it looks like Bucky is that much closer to pummeling him.

Another fifteen minutes later and Bucky pulls the van into a dirt road leading away from any civilization. Ava and Yelena look out the rear window as the main road is getting further and further away.

The two women glance at each other in concern of where they're heading and how Bucky isn't telling them anything about it. "This seems more like a kidnapping than staying under the radar" Ava finally says when Bucky continues driving deeper into the forest.

"I'm sure the winter soldier knows where we're going and what he's doing. We're fine." Alexei says with a hefty laugh as he's watching from the window beside him.

Bucky meanwhile lets out an aggravated sigh to himself, but he doesn't say anything since in just mere minutes, they'll arrive at the location. The location of which feels like he hasn't been to in way too long for his liking.

And that location is a cabin. A cabin that Tony had set up for his wife during the blip so she wouldn't have to put on any kind of act by being around others all the time. That woman just so happened yo be you, Y/n Barnes.

You're an ex. shield agent that helped Steve with finding Bucky after the events of Pierce and Hydra still being active, as well as the whole project insight fail. Bucky and you caught feelings for each other after some time of finding him again and through the events of the team splitting up and fighting against Thanos, both times. After the second time and all the tragedy, you guys decided to get married. Not that it didn't come with hardships, like the whole therapy thing and having to forgive himself and make amends, and the flagsmashers. But all in all, you love each other.

Which is how you find your eyebrows furrowing as you hear a rusty sound of a car driving along the path towards the cabin. That wasn't normal. Your husband always comes home on his bike, only a car a few times, but those times he alerted you. This time though, you got no communication from him that says not to worry.

So, you immediately turn the light off in the living room and grab your gun from the holster on your thigh. Yes, you may be alone out here, but it doesn't mean danger can't find you. Plus, this is what you were trained for.

You silently move through the pitch black house, the only light coming from the headlights of the car illuminating the halls from through the windows. Sticking to the shadows, you make your way outside through a hidden door at the side of the house.

The gun with your finger on the trigger is held firmly down to your right side as you trek silently to the corner to get a glimpse at who's in the car.

"What is this place?" Yelena asks when Bucky turns off the ignition and pulls the keys out. Instead of answering, Bucky just gets out of the car and puts his hands up after closing the door.

"I know you're there. It's me." He calls out to, appearance wise, no one. This makes everyone still in the van look at each other with confused gazes before unbuckling their seatbelts and getting out of the mini van as well. Except for Yelena right away, she stays to wake Bob up. He had nodded off an hour ago in the drive, his head rested against the small window to his left.

You come out of your hiding spot behind the corner of the house with your gun held in front of you, your legs spread in a fighting stance. That is until it's confirmed that it's in fact your husband and no trick.

Paying no mind to the other people coming out of the car, you holster your gun and go over to him. Bucky quickly wraps his arms around you and holds you close to him. He rests his head on your shoulder as he breathes in the light scent of your shampoo that's still lingering from the shower you took this morning.

As Yelena and Bob emerge from the beat up mini van, you and bucky pull apart from one another to face the group of them who are now acting as though they weren't just watching what happened.

You scan over everyone and the last person, your face twists in something someone can only call as disgust. John Walker. "Hey, Y/n, long time no see?" The man at least has the decency to be weary and nervous, scratching the back of his neck. "Could be longer" You say sharply before taking your eyes off him, and just stare at the group as a whole instead.

"Wait, who is this?" Yelena is the one to speak up. "This is Y/n. My wife." Bucky smiles softly, the most genuine look on his face they've seen on him as he looks at you.

"You have a wife?" Several versions of this questions rise from the group, but get off from a glare he sends their way.

"Hey. Nice to meet you guys, I guess" You look back up at your husband before to them again. "Who are you exactly and why do you look like you just went ten rounds with a tornado?" You ask with a raised eyebrow as you take in how disheveled they all look.

"It's best we explain inside." Bucky says. You let out a puff of air before nodding after a moment and taking a key out of your boot. You head to the front door and unlock it, your husband by your side as the rest of them follow inside.

You turn the lights on as Bucky closes and locks the door and enacts the security system that runs through the house and property. "This way" You say and lead them to the living room. As they take a seat, all basically bursting with confusion still, you go over to your husband.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me you were coming, Buck!?" You exclaim in a hushed whisper. "I didn't have any way of communicating you. And I was a little pre-occupied" He glances at the people in the next room over. "I was worried about you" you finally say. "I didn't know what was happening. All I knew was how you bailed on your congressman meetings and had apparently gone rogue."

"I know, and I'm so sorry, darling. But I promise, I'm alright, and we'll tell you everything that happened" Bucky says and presses a kiss to your lips. You melt into it for a second before remembering about the occupants in the next room over.

"Come on, mind as well get this over with." He says quietly into your ear and wraps your hand in his. He leads you to the living room and to in front of the fireplace to face everyone.

"Alright, this is Alexei, Ava, Yelena, and Bob." Bucky introduces them to you. "And him as well," he quickly nods over to John, not wanting to draw too much of your attention to the man that you loath. And boy, does Bucky understand, but nows not the time.

Yelena does a little awkward wave. "Alright. Would someone like to inform me what the hell exactly happened?" You cross your arms and lean against the fireplace mantle.

They all glance at each other before Yelena sighs and sits up straighter, starting to summarize everything that happened to them up to when Bucky met them and blew up Alexie's limo. At that you look at your husband with a raised brow before Yelena continues, the others popping in at times as well.

Once everyone was finished explaining the events leading up to them arriving here, you pinch the bridge of your nose and quietly groan. "Valentina? As in the same woman from three years ago, is behind this whole thing?"

You get multiple nods and 'yeah's from the group. "Wonderful. Well, next time you plan to see her, bring me with. I have a thing or two to say...or do" the ex spy in you is coming out.

"Does he usually fall asleep like that" you're attention is drawn to Bob who is asleep with his head resting on the back couch cushioning. "Uh, he's been through a lot." Ava says.

"Okay, yeah," you sigh, "Well, down the hall are some bedrooms. You guys look like you need to clean up and some sleep yourselves." You point down the hall to your right.

"Thank you" Yelena nods, the rest of them saying thanks as well before standing and going down the hall. Though John goes over to lift Bob. "Don't bother, he can stay in the couch, he seems peaceful" you tell him, trying to fight off the growl even though technically the man was doing something sweet (ish).

He relents and nods, not wanting to get into a fight with you at this time, knowing he won't win. You go over to the younger man and have him lay down more comfortably on the couch with a pillow, as well as draping one of the throw blankets over him.

"Though if you break anything, I will personally come after you" you call down the hallway before going upstairs to your bedroom with Bucky.

"You're very authoritative. It's good, they actually listened to you" he says once you guys get to your shared room.

"That's cause I'm such an amazing person" you smirk. But a moment later, you smack your husband upside the head. "What was that for?" He asks, surprised at the action, not like it hurt that much anyways.

"For worrying me. And for the stupid shit you did" you say before kissing him softly.

[localfanficlover]

After Hours

(Bo Chow x OC)

(This is pt.2 to this Bo imagine, but you don’t need to read that to read this)

Trigger Warnings:

(rough sex, oral (f. receiving), emotionally intense smut, power dynamics, unprotected sex, possessive tone, p in v)

MDNI below the cut

——————————————————

He locks the door without a word.

Not hurried. Not frantic. Just decided.

Your back hits the wall before you even realize he’s moved, one hand still firm on your waist, the other slidin’ up beneath your blouse—fingertips hot and sure, rough palms chasin’ the curve of your ribs like he’s feelin’ his way through a dream he ain’t ready to wake up from.

“Ain’t right,” he mutters against your mouth, voice low and wrecked, “but it don’t make no difference no more.”

You nod, but he ain’t askin’.

Then he kisses you like he’s starved—deep, messy, teeth knockin’ a little, tongue possessive. And when he drops to his knees in front of you, you grab the shelf behind you to steady yourself, ’cause the look in his eyes already took the breath outta your lungs.

“Lift it up, darlin’.”

You pull your skirt up with shaky hands, and he wastes no time—grippin’ your thighs like they belong to him, draggin’ you down onto his tongue with a groan that rattles clean through you.

He eats you like he’s missed meals for this. Like he means to memorize every damn sound you make.

And Lord, you make sounds.

Whines and gasps spill from your lips as his tongue moves slow at first, almost sweet. But he don’t stay sweet. He gets greedy. Messy. His mouth workin’ you open while his fingers dig bruises into your hips like he can’t stand not bein’ deeper. And every time you try to pull away from the overload, he growls and pulls you back down onto his face.

You fall apart with a cry he swallows like a man thirsty for it.

And when he stands, slick with you, thumb draggin’ across his mouth like he’s tryin’ to save the taste—he don’t even give you a second to think. Just turns you ‘round, presses your cheek to the cool wall, and pulls his belt loose with one sharp tug.

Zip.

“Told you,” he growls in your ear, pressin’ the thick weight of him between your thighs, “I been tryin’ to be good.”

Then he pushes inside.

Slow. Deep. And you both stop breathin’.

He don’t rush it. No—he grinds, real filthy, hips rollin’ in that perfect rhythm that pulls whimpers straight outta your throat. He holds your hips like he’s afraid you might vanish, keeps his chest pressed to your back so close you can feel every breath, every curse, every growl he bites off against your skin.

“Feel how tight you are for me, girl?” he grits out. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout this—every night—since the first time you smiled at me like you knew somethin’ I didn’t.”

He fucks you hard. Deep. Til the shelves rattle. Til your legs shake and you come again, clenching around him so sweet he lets out a ragged, broken moan and spills inside you with a low, “Goddamn.”

Then there’s nothin’.

Just the two of you—pressed together in the dark, chests heavin’, skin damp, hearts beatin’ too loud.

He don’t move right away.

Just keeps his arms wrapped around you like he needs the contact more than air.

“You alright?” he says against your shoulder, voice softened by the come-down, that Southern twang more tender now.

You nod, still floatin’.

That’s when he turns you around—slow, gentle—til you’re facin’ him again. His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushin’ the sweat-slick skin like he ain’t quite believin’ you’re real.

“Ain’t mean to go at you like that,” he murmurs, eyes searchin’ yours, “but I ain’t never wanted nothin’ so bad in my whole damn life.”

You reach up and touch his chest, feelin’ the thunder still rollin’ under his ribs. And when he leans his forehead against yours, quiet as a prayer, you finally see it.

Not just the want.

The need.

“You wrecked me, girl,” he says, barely a whisper. “And I don’t think I want fixin’.”

The silence after is warm. Soft. The kind that says maybe this ain’t just heat. Maybe it ain’t just lust or loneliness.

Maybe it’s the start of somethin’ that’s gonna ruin both of you in the best possible way.

————————————————————————

Since y’all loved the last one so much, here y’all go. I’m working on my Annie request as y’all are reading this so it should be done soon. ❤️

Tags:

[ghostedgwen]

can we have the marauders protecting reader who got drunk during a party and was being taken away by some boys or something? sorry if it's triggering!

note : oh my god, this ask had me rolling on my bed thinking of how I am gonna go about this - thank you so much for trusting me with this request! warning/s : themes of s/a, sensitive content, nothing graphic but heavy implications are there, the marauders are very angry - and protective, mentions of alcohol and parties

You don’t mean to get drunk. It’s not like you came to the party with bad intentions or a heartbreak to drink through - just a need to loosen the weight of the week off your shoulders.

The Hufflepuff common room is filled with golden light, music echoing off the stone, and warm, laughing voices that blend together into something safe.

Marlene handed you a drink, kissed your cheek, and said, “Have fun, yeah?” before disappearing off with Mary toward the exit. You hadn’t minded.

She invited you earlier but you weren't sure if you wanted to attend, you were reviewing your answers to the N.E.W.T.s exam that just took place - but figured it would be better to go party a bit than worry over it.

You arrived around 10 in the evening when the party had started around 7, and Marlene is off to guide a drunk Mary back to the common room where Lily will surely chastise them for getting drunk on a school night.

She was very much against you going, you supposed she was right to.

You remember dancing. Spinning in slow circles with a drink in your hand, head tilted back, lips curved into something that could pass for joy.

The burn of the alcohol made your skin feel warmer. Your arms looser. Your thoughts fuzzy around the edges. You remember boys - older ones = leaning over you at some point. Hufflepuffs you think, and at least one Ravenclaw, judging by the bronze-and-blue bracelet he had on.

They seemed kind at first. Too kind, maybe, but you didn’t notice. Not when they laughed at your jokes or kept filling your cup or told you you looked pretty, which felt rare enough these days to let your guard slip.

You only notice something’s wrong when they start steering you toward the back of the common room - where the hallway narrows and bends toward the dormitories.

“Wait,” you murmur, blinking slow. “I don’t - the exit is that way - ”

“You’re pissed,” one of them chuckles, his hand firm on your lower back. “You’ll just get lost. We’ve got a spare bed upstairs. You can lie down.”

“Or not,” another one says under his breath. You catch the tone before the words.

You freeze. “No - I need to go back.”

The laughter sharpens. You try to step back and bump into someone’s chest. Hands close around your elbows. They’re not hurting you, not exactly - but they’re not letting go. Not listening. There’s too many of them, and your limbs are too slow, and your head feels too full.

You open your mouth to say something else - anything else - when a voice cuts through the corridor like a blade.

The Marauders have taken up residence near the far wall - Sirius perched on the arm of a chair, James cross-legged on the floor with a butterbeer, Remus half-listening to a conversation about Quidditch stats, Peter already dozing lightly against a pile of pillows.

It’s been a good night, by all accounts. A perfect way to send off their N.E.W.T.s exams that they slaved over for months.

At least, until Sirius stills beside them.

His eyes narrow, expression twisting slightly as he tilts his head, watching something across the room. “Isn’t that ____?” he says finally, nudging James with the toe of his boot. “The other Gyiffindor - the one that’s always with Marlene and Mary.”

James looks up, squinting through the firelight. “Merlin, I forget she exists sometimes. Since when was she here?”

“I don’t know. But that’s definitely her.” Sirius’s voice is low now, distracted. “Thought she left already. with Marls.”

Remus follows their line of sight - to a dim corner of the common room, where you’re half-supported by a group of boys from other houses. One of them has his hand curls around your waist, another murmurs something close to your ear that makes you flinch slightly before laughing it off.

James frowns. “She looks. . .drunk, absolutely pissed.”

“She looks done,” Remus says quietly, and something sharp enters his voice.

There’s a beat of hesitation. The kind that stretches taut.

Sirius then surprises his friends when he hops off the chair.

James glances at him. “What's wrong, Pads?”

“We should go get her.”

Peter stirs beside them. “Wait - is she alright?”

“No,” Remus says - uncharacteristically looking like he's about to break something, already on his feet. “She’s not.”

The four of them move, a pack without needing to speak. James starts walking first - not running, not causing a scene. Just moving fast enough that anyone watching would sense something was wrong.

By the time they round the corner, they’ve already watched you try to turn back. Already seen you brushed off. Already watched someone guide you further, not toward the exit - toward the dorms.

That’s all they need to see. And then:

“Let her go.” James' voice broke into your struggle with the other boys.

It’s not loud. But it doesn’t need to be.

The boys pause. The one behind you lets go, not out of guilt - more out of instinct, like he'd been caught wrist deep in the proverbial cookie jar. Something in the tone makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

You turn your head - the corridor seems brighter now - and see four figures at the end of the hallway.

James Potter is at the front, wand in hand, shoulders squared like someone raised to command attention. Sirius Black flanks his left, wild-eyed and sharp-jawed, hands clenched into fists. Peter Pettigrew hovers behind, uncertain but alert. But it’s Remus Lupin who moves forward first - and he is furious.

You’ve never seen Remus angry before. Not really. You’ve sat in class beside him once or twice, heard him answer questions in that low, steady voice, seen him nod politely in hallways. But this - this is a different person.

He walks up without hesitation and steps between you and the nearest boy. “I said, let her go.”

“She’s fine,” the Ravenclaw mutters. “We were just helping her back. She can’t walk on her own - ”

Remus cuts him off. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”

James moves in now, calm but firm. “Back off,” he says, voice levelled like a Prefect giving a final warning - the fact remains that he's currently Head Boy. “We’ve got her.”

“You don’t even know her,” one of them scoffs. “This is none of your business.”

“Wrong,” Remus snaps. “I'm a Prefect and James here is Head Boy, the welfare of fellow students is our business.”

There’s a flicker of movement - Sirius stepping forward now, lips curled in something that isn’t quite a smile. “Go ahead. Try saying that again.”

You feel like you’re swaying. Your knees are buckling under you, head too heavy to hold upright. You reach for the wall, but someone steadies you - James. His arm slips around your back gently, guiding you away from the others.

“Let’s not hex them here,” he mutters to Remus, who is still glaring at the boy who spoke up, like he’s imagining a dozen creative curses. “She’s our priority. We can duel them another day.”

Remus doesn’t respond. But he doesn’t lunge forward, either.

You’re shaking. You don’t know why. No one hurt you. They didn’t even say anything cruel. But something about it - the way you’d been cornered, touched, steered like you were furniture - rattles something deep in your chest.

Your eyes are burning. Your throat’s tight. You didn’t think this sort of thing would happen to you.

“I didn’t know,” you whisper, not sure who you’re talking to. “I didn’t think - ”

“Don’t,” James says quietly, steadying you again. “You don’t owe anyone an explanation.”

Remus still hasn’t looked away from the boys, but he speaks - his voice low, furious, directed to them more than you. “You knew what you were doing. Every step of the way. Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

One of the boys sneers towards your direction. “She’s the one who got drunk.”

“Yeah,” Remus breathes. “And you’re the ones who thought that gave you permission.”

James grips your shoulder more tightly. “We’re done here. Let’s get her back to the tower.”

They turn you around carefully, shielding you with their bodies. Sirius walks slightly behind - silent, but furious in the way his eyes stay locked on the boys until you’re safely out of sight.

You don’t say anything as they lead you through the corridors. You’re afraid if you speak, the tears you’ve been holding back will come flooding out.

And something about their silence - angry, awkward, but oddly gentle - makes you feel safer than you’ve felt in hours.

end. masterlist

choosing to end it here as I don't know where else to take this - feel free to send me more requests <3

[nonbinairyboi]

@clubsoft has said a lot of things more eloquently than im about to so go check it out if you haven’t already.

Most of us come here for community.

Community does not mean an echo chamber, but right now I’m so glad the people I interact with are all talking about the nuances of critique and speaking out.

If people do not want to engage with tlou, that is fair. It has triggering topics even without the underlying racism and Zionism.

That is not an affront to you if you like it for some of the other elements that may have drawn you to it.

However, Zionism is an intrinsic part of the show and game. It’s ok to not have known at first, but to be presented with the facts and simply close your eyes or attack/belittle people who point it out is fucked up.

I have a hyperfixation with the first season. Like real bad. I’ve watched it so many times it’s embarrassing. I’m struggling with the second season for a lot of reasons but I am still watching it, but I am trying to watch it mindfully. I know I miss some problematic things and I hope I can learn through the resources at my disposal to make it so I won’t in the future.

I’m Jewish, so I kind of feel extra like it is my responsibility to speak out against Zionism. There is a genocide going on right at this very moment and to ignore that a story we are engaging with right now was inspired by it in a ‘white savior’ ‘both sides’ kind of way says a lot.

Stop attacking bipoc creators on here for having issues with that. It is not an attack on you unless you are making it one by being racist.

And yes, there are critiques of tlou that are bullshit. People not finding an actor attractive enough is not only bullshit but gross, but if you pretend that that is the only critique going on and therefore dismiss it all is willfully ignorant.

[prometheus-rewound]

Also like- it’s one thing to just not get along w/ someone because your weirdnesses don’t align. Like autistic or not, you don’t need to get along with everyone. It’s not ableist to just not eat along with people.

I’m autistic, and am highly sensitive, get overwhelmed easily, and can be considered “low empathy”. There are other autistic folk with a different array of symptoms that are really hard for me to be around , and I 100% trigger other people by the way I am bc our symptoms don’t align. And sometimes, personalities can just not click and it can be that simple

Being considerate and kind doesn’t mean you have to even like everyone. It’s okay if you aren’t compatible with someone, disability or not— but what actually understanding disability means that you are kind and have grace with people regardless. It’s recognizing prejudice and bias and standing up for people.

Even if I get physically triggered, I know that person is not out to get me, or that they are a bad person. You can still offer kindness and understanding even if you are unable to be a direct support.

i feel as though some of you dont understand that autism is a disability and thus people with autism will be weird in a non fun way

[crimsonphantasmagoria]

I've been thinking, and I've come to the conclusion that one of the reasons why Veilguard feels so hollow is because it makes an attempt to reckon with Solas’s fatal flaw, but completely fails at actually doing so.

This may be a controversial opinion, but I don't think pride is Solas’s fatal flaw. It's a symptom, not the origin point. Solas’s fatal flaw is his inability to trust others. It's a threadline all the way through Inquisition, from the things he says to you (I know that mistake well enough to carve the angles of her face from memory) to the very structure of his personal quest (which does not trigger if you're on low approval with him). He's tragic (in the literary sense) because even in the case of a high approval Inquisitor, the person most likely to listen to him and capable of acting upon it, he doesn't ask them for help. Hell, we know he was planning to tell a romancing Inquisitor, but chickened out at literally the last possible second, that's how deep it runs. That's why it's Tragic.

And I think Veilguard tries to contrast this with the Team™. Which is fine, I guess, until you realise that Solas’s original Team was the Evanuris. None of Rook’s Team™ can betray them. If they don't do the companions personal quests they die, rather than become disloyal in some way. They're all 100% in accord about their politics and what is Right, without real argument. Which is nice, but if your advice to someone with severe trust issues is 'skill issue' that's...unhelpful.

And yeah, Solas did have his rebellion, but he had the rebellion in the sense that the Inquisitor had the Inquisition, not in the sense that Rook has the Team™. And as he says, any powerful organisation inevitably falls to betrayal and corruption.

And he had Felassan, but Felassan also betrayed him (with good reason, but he did actively undermine an operation he was on on behalf of Solas. That is a betrayal), which can only have cemented the inherent trust issues.

But, thinking about it, there is actually a paralell with some of the companions having experienced some kind of betrayal. Lucanis and Illario, Bellara and Cyrion, Davrin and Isseya/the Wardens, Taash and Shathann. And pretty much all of these experience a last minute change of heart, or otherwise come to the companion's POV if allowed to. Is this what they were going for with Mythal in the Atonement ending? I can kind of see the logic.

The problem is, I don't really see why this suddenly turns Solas around. He doesn't overcome his fatal flaw in order to avoid his tragedy. It always comes down to the fact that Solas’s actual reasons for bringing down the Veil are never truly addressed, and likely changed at some point in production between Trespasser and Veilguard. The political and systemic issues of the setting are pushed aside by Veilguard's narrative for individual and personal issues, even well established issues like systemic racism and slavery. It's incoherent to say 'Solas was destroying the Veil because he couldn't trust people, so fixing the trust means he doesn't want the veil to come down', when the issue was 'Solas can't trust anyone else to help solve the harm caused by the Veil because of the betrayal'. The harm doesn't go away because the betrayal did, you know what I mean? And Rook, and by extention the entire narrative, never displays willingness to even acknowledge those issues as existing in the first place, let alone needing addressing in some way. Rook interrupts Solas when he tries to talk about the suffering of the Spirits. So why does he suddenly hand over the dagger, symbolically handing the matter over to Rook?

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

Y'all, Freefall Gambit is so good 😩❤️‍🔥 Loved the return of Onychinus Sylus! He was aura farming so hard in this card, I had to restrain myself from audibly fangirling ijbol. I do feel like this card is sort of preparing us for the upcoming branch, where we'll most likely see alot more of this type of stuff and of this particular dynamic of SylusMC. Of being on opposing sides. Lots of angst and potential for drama, as well as self reflection and growth on especially MC's part.

My sole complaint is that Sylus isn't wearing the suit from the illustration ＿|￣|● I love his Onychinus fit as much as the next person but man... that suit... I will cry if they intend on forever gatekeeping it.

Because I want to avoid spoiling anyone that doesn't have the card yet, I've decided to write down some of my immediate thoughts below the cut.

Let's get the angsty predictions out of the way first – these lines set my alarm bells off. I feel like they are foreshadowing that something of Sylus' will indeed get taken or lost. Or rather someone. That someone ofc being MC, his most precious treasure.

I'll admit that these would not have alarmed me had it not been for certain lines in Sylus' birthday event and in Greedy Heart. I go into why exactly those lines make me uneasy in the linked post, and I just feel like the above ones further reinforces my theory. Call me paranoid or angst obsessed, but I predict pain for both SylusMC and for us in the main story, perhaps even in the coming branch.

On a similar note, just as how Sylus' vulnerability and fear (MC, and MC getting hurt or worse respectively) has been brought up more than once recently, so has MC's. Namely, that Sylus will get caught and put away, or become weak. We see these fears in Valleydream Bloom and in this card, as well as in Where Hearts Live. So things might be building up exactly to that.

I thought it was interesting how MC specifically mentions that the Association have Evol suppressing equipment. Which leads me to believe that said equipment could potentially be used against Sylus at some point to subdue him (provided of course that Sylus' powers are indeed Evol and not demonic/draconic based, but that is an eventual topic for another day). Idk but something tells me that Sylus will get captured whether willingly (most likely) or unwillingly. After all, we do see Sylus behind bars in the music video to Visions Opposées.

Could it be foreshadowing or just a neat visual? Only time will tell.

Me personally though, I am leaning towards the former, and I can see both MC's and Sylus' fears coming to fruition. Maybe even in a connected way (MC gets kidnapped and/or hurt and Sylus jumps in to save her but gets weakened or subdued in doing so, or Sylus gets captured by the Association, MC gets gravely injured trying to save him and maybe in the process triggers Sylus' dragon form and with it MC's memories? Boom. Several birds one stone. Helluva plotline imo)

What I still don't believe will come to pass however is either of them perma dying. This is an otome gacha. The main character nor LI can't die, especially not in a game as young and fresh as Love and Deepspace. So on that front I am not at all worried. Doesn't mean the angst we do get won't hurt a lot, though. But that being said, SylusMC will persevere in the end. Trust. Neither will let the other get torn away from them. Either will move heaven and earth to bring their lover back come what may.

Moving on...

I thought this was a nice callback to Sylus' anecdote

Here Sylus is revealed to actually be a sort of deepspace Robin Hood. We stan.

And the crowd cheered!!!

Also this is actually why Sylus jumped out of the plane. Man needed some cool and fresh air after this comment made all his blood flow south...

This makes me cackle 😭 bro is so unserious. And actually kind of insane, but again, we stan.

MC is living the dream. Do you know what I'd sacrifice to wrap my arms around that waist?? Happy for my girl though 💞 ( and for Sylus, you know that man is on cloud 9 here).

I adore that the card ends on a sweet and nostalgic note, with them gazing at the moon... like they used to in a distant past 💗

[orellazalonia]

The Silence Between Us

Summary: When a mission goes wrong and you resort to bad habits, one of the last teammates you expected finds you. (Bucky Barnes x Avenger!reader)

Trigger Warnings: Descriptions and acts of SELF-HARM. Failed mission. Mentions of civilians death. Minors DNI. Angst. Sort of comfort at the end.

Word Count: 2k+

A/N: I wanted angst and have had this idea for a bit. Reader & Bucky are not in a relationship in this. As always, please read the warnings. You are responsible for the media you consume. Let me know if I should add something else to the warnings, tags, or anything else.

Main Masterlist

You hadn’t meant for anyone to get hurt. It was supposed to be a routine mission: intel, extract, and get out. But something went wrong. Of course it did. The detonation happened too early and the blast wave swallowed a civilian transport before you could shield it. You watched the fire bloom, bright and furious, as the screams rung loud. Then the silence that followed.

You stood numbly while the team regrouped. They didn’t say anything, not really. Steve gave you a tight nod. Clint didn’t meet your eyes. Natasha’s mouth pressed into a thin line, the kind that said everything and nothing all at once. You could still feel the warmth of the explosion near your face, even hours later. You couldn’t stop seeing their faces.

So you slipped away.

The Tower was quiet, save for the hum of the lights and the occasional sound of Friday responding to someone else. You knew no one would come looking, not tonight. Not after what you did and what you failed to do. You made it to your room, but didn’t stay there. Instead, you found yourself in the bathroom with trembling hands and blurry vision. The guilt was like tar in your lungs, thick and suffocating. You tried breathing through it, tried telling yourself you didn’t mean to, but your voice cracked before you got past the first word.

And then you saw the blade.

It was instinct, not thought. You weren’t even sure why your fingers wrapped around it, why you sat down on the cold tile floor and rolled up your sleeve like it was some rehearsed choreography. You just needed something. Something sharp, something real, something that hurt more than your head and your heart. The sting was almost welcome. It focused the pain. Made it tangible and controlled.

You didn’t notice the blood until it had already patterned the grout like inkblots.

You didn’t move from the floor as the blade slipped from your fingers. It clattered against the tile, but the sound was too soft, too far away. You were somewhere else now, drifting in that space where everything is slowed down and sound becomes distant, muffled, like your ears were underwater. Your breath hitched and your chest tightened, but the tears still refused to fall. Part of you had already shut down.

You stared at your arm. At the red lines, thin but vivid, like cracks in porcelain. They weren’t deep enough, not fatal. You hadn’t meant to go that far. Or maybe you had, you didn’t know. You couldn’t tell what was intentional anymore. Everything felt heavy and hollow at the same time, resembling the feeling of a black hole that had opened inside you, pulling everything inward. Every ounce of guilt, every mistake, every scream you couldn’t stop echoing in your mind.

You didn’t want to think how you looked like.

You had caught your reflection earlier by accident. Your face was pale, jaw tight, eyes…empty. You certainly didn’t look like yourself. You wanted to punch the glass, to shatter it, to make the outside match the inside. But your body had been too tired. Too numb. The only thing you could feel now was the warm, sticky drag of blood as it crept down your skin.

You curled in on yourself, knees pulled tight to your chest, one arm wrapped around your ribs, the other held away like something foreign, something broken. You wished the floor would crack open and swallow you whole. You wished you could disappear.

The thoughts came in waves. You should have died instead of them. They didn’t sign up for this. You did. You promised to protect people. The words felt like knives. And you took them all, again and again, let them bury themselves in your spine until there was nothing left to do but breathe shallowly and wait. Wait for the blood to dry, for the guilt to rot you from the inside out.

Not caring how long you sat there with your head down, eyes closed. You didn’t even hear the door open.

Maybe it was unlocked. Maybe you’d forgotten to lock it in your haze. Or maybe he just picked it, quiet as death, like he’d been trained to be. You barely flinched when the soft creak of the hinges gave him away. But your eyes didn’t lift. You stayed there, folded up like paper, still bleeding, still silent. You didn’t have the energy to care or do anything else.

There was a pause. A breath.

“…Shit.”

His voice wasn’t loud. It was low, rough, somewhere between a curse and a sigh. You knew that voice though. It was the one that rarely spoke to you. Not out of cruelty. Just…distance. He was always at the edge of the group, a little like you. Watching more than participating. Following orders, fighting hard, and saying little. You never expected him to be the one standing in your bathroom doorway, taking in the sight of you broken on the floor.

But there he was.

Bucky didn’t rush. He didn’t bark your name or kneel with some dramatic flare. Instead, he stepped in slowly, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The kind of silence that settles before a storm. You heard the faint clink of metal fingers curling into a fist, then loosening.

“You’re bleeding,” He said.

You let out a weak, joyless sound. It might’ve been a laugh. Might’ve been a sob. “Yeah. Noticed.”

You didn’t look up, knowing his eyes flickered to the bloody blade beside your broken form.

There was more silence. But it wasn’t empty this time, it was tense. A wire pulled too tight. Then the sound of fabric shifting. Movement. You felt the air change as he knelt beside you, just barely close enough to be felt but not touched.

“I saw what happened today,” Bucky murmured. “You think I don’t know what that does to someone?”

You turned your face away, more toward the tile. “I killed them.”

“No,” He said. “You didn’t.”

Your laugh came again, sharper this time. Bitter. “That’s not how it looked.”

Bucky didn’t argue. He didn’t feed you platitudes or repeat what Steve might’ve said. Instead, he shifted again, setting something down beside him. A towel? Maybe his jacket? You didn’t look. You couldn’t. But his voice stayed low, grounded.

“You freeze up when it happens,” He said, like he was talking to himself more than you. “The explosion. The screaming. It’s like your body remembers too much. You forget how to move. How to breathe.”

You said nothing.

“I’ve had days like that,” Bucky continued. “Too many. Days where I couldn’t even look at my hands without seeing the blood that wasn’t mine. That’s not something you can just… walk off.”

You blinked hard. Your vision blurred with tears that finally, finally started to fall. “I just wanted to save them.”

“I know,” He said, almost a whisper.

There was a long pause before you felt the faintest touch, metal fingers brushing yours. Not grabbing. Not pulling. Just… being there. Present. Steady. You didn’t pull away. Not this time.

You still hadn’t looked at him, but it didn’t matter.

“I’m not good at this,” He exhaled. “But I know what it’s like to be drowning in your own head. So don’t sit in it alone.”

Your voice cracked when you asked, “Why are you here?”

Bucky was quiet for a moment. Then he said something so quiet it nearly disappeared:

“Because I saw myself in you.”

He didn’t wait for your answer. Instead, he stood, the scrape of his boots on the tile echoing softly, and walked toward the small cabinet in the corner. You could hear the rustling of supplies: bandages, antiseptic, gauze, who knows what else. The faint sound of a drawer sliding open. He moved like someone who had done this before, not hurried, not hesitant, just deliberate.

You stayed still, frozen against the cold bathroom floor, not knowing what to do with the sudden tenderness in his actions. There was something surreal about it. The way he was treating you with a care that no one had given you for so long, maybe ever. The coldness of the tiles beneath your legs was starting to seep into your bones, but you didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

When he returned, it was with the first aid kit in his hands, but his expression was a bit softer, unguarded. He didn’t try to force you to look at him. Didn’t demand anything of you. He simply sat beside you again, pulling a disinfectant wipe from the kit and placing it in his lap.

He didn’t rush, didn’t say a word, as he took your arm gently, the metal of his prosthetic cool against your skin. His touch was careful, as if you were fragile in a way that didn’t show, like something beneath the surface was breaking, even though you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel it yet. His thumb brushed lightly over the cuts: too small, too shallow, but enough to leave marks.

"Let me clean them," He looked at you, his voice calm but firm.

You didn’t pull away. Not because you trusted him completely, but because you felt like you were too far gone to care about anything else.

He started with the first cut, swabbing at the wound with the antiseptic wipe, the sting of it sharp and biting. You flinched, but he was there, steady. His eyes were fixed on your arm, on the task at hand. You could feel his focus: no judgment, just intent to heal, to make the pain go away, if only for a moment.

You know you should have fought harder. Made sure to lock the door. Pushed him away. The man who had been through hell and back didn’t need to deal with this. But for some reason, he was. You didn’t know what it meant either and that scares you. Your thoughts were interrupted once more.

"You don’t have to talk," Bucky murmured after a beat, his voice low, just for you. "I know you’re not ready for that. But, know you don’t have to carry this alone. We all carry our own ghosts.”

You didn't say anything. His fingers worked efficiently, bandaging your wounds with gentle precision. The silence stretched on, but it wasn’t tense or suffocating this time. It was comforting in its quietness, like two people who didn’t need words to understand the weight of everything that had happened today. The first aid kit was closed, the sound of it calming, rhythmic.

When he finished, he looked at you, his metal hand hovering near your shoulder, as though waiting for permission. You didn’t pull away. You didn’t ask him to leave. You were still, lost in the feeling of someone caring for you in a way you hadn’t expected. Bucky didn’t press for anything. He simply let his hand rest on your shoulder.

“You’re not what happened today,” He stated quietly, his thumb brushing across the fabric of your sleeve, the touch almost tender. “You’re not what you think you are. You don’t need to punish yourself for the things out of your control.”

You didn’t know how to answer him, so you didn’t. The quietness in the room felt like a balm, the silence enveloping you like a weighted blanket. His presence was like the steady rhythm of a heartbeat, strong and unwavering. You didn’t feel the need to hide, not with him sitting beside you, patient and understanding.

Finally, he spoke again. “You need rest.” His voice was softer, quieter now, as though he knew it wasn’t just physical healing you needed. “Let me help you to your bed. Rest a little. I’ll stay if you want me to.”

You still didn’t respond or move. But this time, when his hand gently urged you to your feet, you let yourself follow his lead. You took another breath, closing your eyes just for a moment. For in that quiet space, you weren’t alone.

[doumadono]

EMERGENCY REQUEST

hi, I don't know if this is too specific or triggering but I'd love if you could write something where katsuki celebrates reader getting their period after a while of not having it due to an ed. (going through this right now and it feels like no one cares and I kind of want to be celebrated?) anyways thanks if you can or can't write something :)!

Worth celebrating - Bakugo x Reader

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST - PART 2

It happened on a Tuesday morning, when the clouds hung low and the city was draped in its usual post-rain haze.

Eight years since the end of the war, and still Katsuki Bakugo woke every day with the weight of it tucked somewhere between his shoulder blades, dull and familiar.

But today, the air in their apartment was off — not just because you’d left the window cracked, or because he’d made the coffee too strong again. Something was just different.

You didn’t say anything at first. Not when he leaned against the counter with his mug observing you like a predator, not when you shuffled into the kitchen with sleep still dragging at your limbs; not even when your boyfriend greeted you with a muttered, “Mornin’, dumbass,” softened only by the brush of his rough fingerpads over your hip as you passed him by.

It was when you returned from the bathroom that he noticed.

Your eyes were wide, glimmering. Your lip trembling. You stood there, in the doorframe, clutching the hem of your nightgown like a kid who didn’t know how to say the words caught in their throat.

“…What?” Katsuki asked, not unkindly.

Your gaze flicked down, and your voice came out in a whisper, “I got it back.”

Bakugo blinked. “Got what back?”

And then he realized.

He might’ve come off like a storm of muscle, barked orders, and a man too brash for softness — but that was all misdirection. The guy paid attention. Especially to you, his beloved girlfriend.

Your shoulders curled inward the moment it clicked in his head. You almost apologized for attempting to say it — he could see it forming in your mouth, the guilt for turning this small, biological thing into a confession, like it wasn’t that important anyway.

But Katsuki fucking Bakugo, survivor of wars and pride and all the broken pieces in between, moved. Instincts sharper than ever. He was across the room in a blink, setting down the mug so hard it nearly shattered on a nearby counter, before pulling you into his strong arms like you were the most precious gem. Because you were, in the end.

“You mean it?” he muttered against the top of your head, inhaling the warm scent of your hair deep in his lungs. “You really—?”

You nodded into his chest, clutching the back of his shirt like you were scared you’d imagined it. “I didn’t think it would come back,” you uttered, “I thought I’d ruined myself. After all that… After everything I did to my body, I just... I didn’t think it would come back to me. I can't believe I got my period after such a long, long time!"

His grip on you tightened, arms wrapping you up like a shield. Bakugo didn’t say I told you so, even though he could’ve. He’d told you you were getting better. He’d told you every small step mattered. But this wasn’t about being right.

This was about you.

“Fuck, baby…” he breathed, voice gone hoarse. “You’ve been working so hard.”

Your knees buckled a little, but he caught you, guiding you to the couch in the living room in that wordless way he always did — blunt, gruff, but gentle under it all. He sat beside you and held you, fingers stroking over your tensed back, his chin resting atop your head.

You didn’t talk for a while. Instrad, you cried a little, the kind of crying that comes from relief so deep it feels like mourning. He let you do so. It was a purifying act, and Katsuki understood its importance to the situation.

Eventually, you found your voice again. “It feels stupid, getting this emotional over it. Like it’s just a period, right?”

His eyes snapped to yours. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled, though his thumb was still rubbing circles on your side. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. This ain’t just a period. It’s your body healing. It's proof you're taking care of yourself. Proof you're fighting. And I know how fucking hard that is for you.”

Your breath hitched, and you nodded again, lip caught between your teeth. “People talk about healing like it’s this linear thing,” you stated. “But it’s not. Some days I still feel like I’m failing. Like eating that extra bite is a war I lose. Like maybe if I had just had more willpower back then, none of this would’ve—”

“No,” he interrupted, voice low but firm. “You don’t get to say that shit either. None of what happened was your fault. You were hurting. And now you’re healing. And I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, I could blow a hole through the damn roof.”

That made you laugh. Just a little. But it was real.

“You mean it?”

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eye. Serious. Steady. Full of the kind of warmth Katsuki Bakugo didn’t show many people — but for you, it burned quietly every day.

“I mean it,” he claimed. “And I wanna celebrate.”

Your eyes widened. “Celebrate?”

“Hell yeah,” he nodded his head. “This is huge. Big enough that we should fuckin’ do something. You want cake? Pizza? Both? A damn movie night tonight? Or maybe we could visit that onsen you like so much, hmmm?”

You laughed again, covering your face with your hands, cheeks flushed. “Katsuki, it’s literally just blood pouring out of my vagina. I don't think it would be a proper thing to celebrate...”

“It’s not just anything,” he snapped, then softened his tone again. “It’s you getting better, as I said. You think I care about the blood part? Shit, I’ve seen worse, babe. I care that your body feels safe again.”

You sighed, wiped at your eyes, still smiling. "Okay."

And he kissed your forehead, grumbling something about how proud and happy he was.

But when you looked at him, soft and vulnerable and strong in a way you hadn’t been in a long time, he tugged your body close again, heart beating heavy in his chest. “Let’s go out,” he offered suddenly. “You pick. I’ll take you anywhere. Don’t care how fancy. I’ll even wear the fucking formal shirt you like so much, if needed.”

You looked up at him with something close to awe. “…You mean the one with the little hearts on the buttons?”

He groaned. “Yes, dammit.”

You laughed softly, leaning into his warmth. “Okay,” you murmured, voice thick with emotion. “Yeah… you’re right. This is worth celebrating.”

@pixelcafe-network

[picathartidae]

Yeah Davrin Week! I’ve been struggling to figure out the specifics of my Rook’s relationship with Davrin for ages, so this was good motivation to actually try to hammer out those details.

This answer might be a little more meandering than usual, because I’m sort of figuring things out on the fly.

What is your Rook's relationship with Davrin?

Where to even begin? It’s a bit of a mess, honestly.

They don’t initially get along at all, and it takes a long time for them to actually bond. They have a lot of things in common, but that causes disagreements more than anything else. Valentin tends to avoid interpersonal conflict as much as possible and is trying to keep his focus on stopping the gods, so it’s not as pronounced a rivalry as the one between Davrin and Lucanis, but it’s definitely there. And the fact that Davrin has that very active rivalry with Lucanis probably makes Valentin want to tear his hair out, because he and Lucanis have their own shit going on (he saved Minrathous over Treviso), and the fact that Val is the only one trying to be mature about it drives him insane. 

I wouldn’t say they hate each other (Val definitely dislikes Davrin way more than the other way around), but their relationship is absolutely on the more contentious side of things. 

They’re both incredibly principled people, but those principles don’t always align, and neither is willing to compromise. The thing that really sets Val off in the beginning involves Davrin’s banter where he declares that he wouldn’t have spared the Mayor of D’Meta’s Crossing (therefore implying Val had done the wrong thing). Which wouldn’t have been bad, but Valentin had not long ago listened to Davrin tell him about how the Wardens are great because anyone can join and everyone, no matter who they are or what they’ve done, deserves a chance at redemption. So he just gets intensely reactive in response, and furiously calls Davrin a hypocrite before storming off. Everything kind of goes downhill from there.

Generally, in those early stages, Valentin feels threatened by Davrin, and their more abrasive dynamic brings out an incredibly short-tempered and reactive side of him that he’s been frantically trying to bury and move past for years. Davrin's basically everything Val wishes he was (confident, handsome, masculine, Dalish), so he just kind of regresses back into a teenager as a defense mechanism. He misreads early interactions with Davrin as being dismissive and condescending, and the knowledge that Davrin is Dalish and willingly walked away from that life has a knock-on effect.

Davrin would be the first person to describe Valentin as being ‘hot headed’, even though Val is generally pretty conflict-avoidant and diplomatic, because Davrin just triggers the hell out of him without even meaning to. So he gets those angry and extremely defensive responses more than anyone else. 

They finally manage to figure something out following the destruction of Weisshaupt, when Val somewhat reluctantly tells Davrin about what happened to his own hometown Ventus, in an attempt to find some common ground. It helps humanise them both to each other, and gives them the encouragement they need to actually communicate. And it’s finding that understanding with Davrin that convinces Val that it would also be worth trying to repair things with Lucanis, as well. All of which ultimately helps him become the leader Varric always saw in him. 

So, they’re originally kind of more rivals than friends, but they get past it after some time (and going through some traumatic stuff together). It’s a lot of work, but they eventually become pretty close. Once they do, they actually work remarkably well together, and Val begins to treat Davrin as something of a second-in-command when they’re on the battlefield. They end up holding each other in pretty high regard, and become lifelong friends.

What do they like about him?

When it isn’t actively causing conflict between them, Val likes that Davrin is principled, dedicated, and believes in nobility and goodness in all people. He likes that Davrin cares very deeply for the people around him, and that he’s an incredibly compassionate person. 

What do Rook and Davrin enjoy doing together?

They probably spar a lot, and have a long, long list of rules when they do. They develop a lot of battle tactics and as a consequence from all the practice, and are an absolutely brutal duo on the battlefield because of how familiar they are with each other's fighting styles.

They probably also play Wicked Grace with Taash while everyone else is doing the book club, and Harding isn’t around to stop them (she’s trying to look out for their dignity. And sanity). Davrin and Taash team up for the sole purpose of defeating Val, and still manage to get absolutely annihilated.

Davrin and Valentin also seem to develop a habit of going to Arlathan Forest (notably Val’s least favourite place in the world, though he never actually tells Davrin this) for walks or picnics or what have you.

What do they advise him to do with the griffons?

Sticking with the theme of Val being a big fan of not clinging to the past and instead embracing an uncertain future, he suggests they go to Arlathan. 

He really just wants the griffons to be allowed to be animals, without the expectation of some lofty higher purpose. They should be allowed to exist, as they are, in whatever capacity suits them. He doesn’t trust the Wardens (individual Warden friends yes, but not the Wardens as an institution), after everything they’ve uncovered and gone through with Isseya.

It was probably a bit of a snap decision on his part, since he wasn’t expecting Davrin to ask, or to put any weight in his opinion. 

Do they think Davrin should reconnect with his clan?

I’m not sure Valentin has an opinion on that at all. As much as he wants to connect with elven culture, he’s finding that with Bellara, and Davrin’s experience is very different. And if there’s one thing Val does understand and relate to more than anything else, it’s feeling isolated and being treated like an outsider in your own culture, and how utterly damaging that can be. He wouldn’t feel comfortable giving an opinion either way.

Did Rook choose Davrin to lead the distraction team on Tearstone Island? Why or why not?

He chose Harding, because she’s his best friend, he’s known her for longer, and trusts her probably more than anyone else. He actually brings Davrin with him, because by this point in the story, he tends to keep Davrin close by on important missions as a kind of second-in-command, and has come to depend on him when in combat. Neither take the consequences well, but I like to think they’re able to bond and reaffirm their friendship through the ensuing survivor’s guilt, since that’s kind of how their friendship started in the first place.

Rook Intro Hour: Davrin

Good morning, everyone! As you may or may not already know, #DavrinWeek2025 is coming up from May 19th - May 25th, hosted by @datvcompanionweeks !

To celebrate, today's Intro Hour will be centered around Davrin!

How it works: I ask you a question about your Rook(s) and you answer it with as much brevity or verbosity as you desire. The easiest way for me to keep track of everyone is for you to reblog this post and add your answer, although you can also mention me in a separate post, if you want! You can do this whenever you want, and I’ll reblog it + add some comments! There’s no time limit— if you want to do the older ones, they are collected here! (The post is updated on Fridays!)

*Please be aware that if you rb RIH to a community WITHOUT rbing to your blog first, I CANNOT rb and comment. If you want me to comment, please put the post on YOUR BLOG first. Thanks!

Today's Question(s): What is your Rook's relationship with Davrin? What do they like about him? What do Rook and Davrin enjoy doing together? What do they advise him to do with the griffons? Do they think Davrin should reconnect with his clan? Did Rook choose Davrin to lead the distraction team on Tearstone Island? Why or why not? Lastly, if you want, write a unique banter between Davrin and your Rook!

Have fun, and be creative!

[candywife333]

You Could Never

Pairing: Jungkook singer x chubby y/n

PART 1 of Places You Never Were

Not edited as usual and should end with part 2. Really poured my heart out in this one, hope you like it!

Triggers: sad feelings, crude words and description, intense unrequited love, heart break

She had loved him in the silent ways. And he had simply let her, as though he was doing her a favor.

He never asked for anything but he always accepted. The hearty home cooked meals , the cheerful messages reminding him to sleep early and take a break when he needed it, the silence when resounding echoes of the world around him got too loud. When he needed an escape. Always there.

Foolish girl. I was always there. Invisible, woven into the tapestry of his life --a single seamless thread overarching the entire narrative. Always there, but never seen.

Too trivial to be seen. To be seen with. In the background of his life like a never ending tune.

Even the way he broke up with me was trivial. Like I held no meaning to him after 5 long years of holding him down. It was a text, after he had left for one of his international tours with the rest of his group.

I never told him about what I saw in the studio that day. I simply bottled it up, the grief and then the rage, rocking myself to sleep in tears -dwelling on things of the past that would haunt me.

That night was when they all hitched a late night flight to America from South Korea. It was 5 AM when I received the text, "Let's take a break Y/N. I know this feels like it came out of nowhere, but come on. You know that we haven't been the same since a while now. It's best for me and you , so we can stay focused on our professional goals".

I read the text, a manic, dry laugh escaping my throat. Like something in me had cracked. Permanently. Focused on professional goals. So that was what he was doing with that dancer in that studio late into the evening. Pursuing professional goals. I see, I guess that's what they called whoring around nowadays.

We both knew whose goals he truly cared about. His. Because, even though I had been transforming his career and his life selflessly, mine had changed very little. I was still under-study to a producer, not even an official one. That's what happens when you take shit. From everyone. Including people at work. I guess my relationship dynamics had translated into my work as well.

Days evolved into weeks.

Weeks of unwashed, crusty dishes and funky smelling, dirty hair. But if I didn't show up for any more days- I would be unemployed. So I went back to work. The producer I worked under, Kang, still forgot my name though I had been working with him for a number of years. Still getting his dry wash, still making his piss water coffee, still organizing messy shelves-fixing his life instead of mine. Still unnoticed.

But the world doesn't wait for you. Even when you are decaying and decomposing inside. The machine of the industry won't ever stop. For anyone. The world wouldn't let me recover, headlines flooded with rumors of his projects, his hook-ups, his relationships, collaborations, him.

The text still reverberated in my ears, as if he had spoke it out loud , "Let's take a break". Five years down the drain. Spilled milk. And maybe that's why they call these things break-ups. Because it literally breaks you from the inside out... corroding parts of you that you tend to take for granted. Trust and optimism in the world gone in the blink of an eye.

Those were the days I wish my love was unrequited. If it had just stayed a pipe dream, at least it wouldn't have broken me like this.

I still didn't know where I went wrong. I still didn't as I went through the motions of my monotonous life. He had been warm to me. Kind and considerate, loving. He had called me his rock, his calm in the storm that was his life. All lies. I should've known that I was just a phase in his life. A passing summer rain. We were too different to work in reality.

His life is noisy and vibrant. He lives in stages and luxury hotel rooms. Rented Villas. He passes through places, nothing ever permanent. I live in the embrace of soft blankets worn out by the passage of time and faded covers of books I have thumbed through the pages of a million times. In an apartment I had stayed in for 6 years now.

My eyes fall on memories--all too painful. I try not to think of them, to not see them. Mementos of times gone by. A backstage pass, a hoodie he left behind, a birthday card signed in his messy loopy signature. The pain never dulls, even though its been a few months since the fall out. He has been jet-setting across the globe for his tour.

And just when I thought it could not hurt anymore than it already did. I saw them at the award show. The dancer and him. Walking hand in hand. The dancer was dressed in a golden shimmery fabric, floating across with floor with her lengthy, frail arm on his buff, tuxedo clad shoulder. My producer had told me to come, a networking event from hell.

I was dressed in black, as most of the junior crew were. A drab black shirt and pants that couldn't cover my hefty frame well enough. As if it wasn't enough to see him with her, his speech poured salt on the raw edges of my wounds. "Thank you to our fans, our team, our families", he drawled smoothly. "And to all the people behind the scenes who have seen all versions of me and still helped me to walk this path and achieve so much when I was lost. You are all part of my journey and I am forever grateful".

I felt like I had been sharply slapped on my cheek. I had been relegated to the supporting cast in his life, the side character, the background. It seemed to me, that's all I ever was. The supporting character in someone else's life. He looked through the crowd, his gaze fixing on me - a flicker of recognition. A momentary lapse in his nonchalant composure.

I look forward at him as though he was immaterial, as though he was invisible. Because to me in that moment that was what he had become. He had erased my existence from his life. And he did so proudly.

I didn't win anything that night.

But I sure as hell was done losing.

________________________________________________________

The studio looked different now that it had nothing to do with him. I had purged all signs of him from the studio. The ones that I could anyway. Gone were the days were I scurried around like a mouse, silent and hesitant to pitch in ideas.

I stayed longer than everyone else. I was building myself. Something I should have done from the beginning. Instead of building up someone else. Learning and absorbing all the skills of the producers and engineers around me. Fine-tuning layered vocals, manipulating sample sounds to fit in with a track. Lacing together vocals with syncopated beats.

I asked. Something I never did before. I let them take a risk on me, trying the controls myself when they offered. I worked on demos on my own and one day when I was busy munching on a veggie sandwich , my boss came in, a wry smile on his face , crooning melodically, "You've got it".

I stared at him confused. Stuttering, "Sss...ir what do you mean"? He went on resolutely as though he had made up his mind, "You got it kid. The gumption and the genius. Drop all the projects you are working on as of today. You will be working for a solo artist, crafting together their title tracks".

I sat there completely mind-blown as he walked away as fluidly as he had come in, just as silently.

I worked on the tracks day and night. The rough work schedule and my disinterest in food making me lose weight and gain skills I never thought I had. I thought I didn't have it in me. But I layered every track, made every decision regarding arrangements- no matter how minute. I could hear a hint of the insertion of one trumpet and the chords of one piano piece and know which part of which track I was in. I was obsessive. It had to be how I envisioned it.

The room was silent the day of the title track recording. "Alright", I said to the awaiting room, all head producers and boss in to hear the recording. "Let's make sure the verses for track 3 are minimal , raw, with low reverb. Pull in the strings, and build the tension . Make sure to make it sharp in terms of enunciation of lyrics because once we break the tension... there will be silence in the track ".

The young soloist frantically noted it down, teaming with fear and wide eyes as I explained how it should progress.

One of the senior producers who wouldn't even have acknowledged me before raised his hand. "Are you certain that such a drop, with silence, wouldn't be too precarious. Don't you think it would lose the interest of listeners"?

This time was not the time I doubted myself. I had slowly stopped doing that as I had crafted these tracks together. "I am sure", I firmly responded. " There are too many ballads-especially pop ballads nowadays with the same over produced noises. Silence occasionally would do the audience some good".

There was a brief overture of silence in the room till another producer sighed.

"Let's give it a go".

In the booth, the artist sang the song over the arrangement, and as i sat in the control room--I felt so joyous. Something I hadn't felt in a while. The tracks with the voice sounded honest...truthful... and so beautiful. I let his voice crack because that brought beauty to some tracks. The rawness with the music arrangements enveloping them, even brought tears to a few producers in the room.

When the artist came out of the booth, he fearfully looked at me, "I am so sorry... for my voice cracking. I promise I will do better. Please let me record them again". He looked at me, like I would take away everything he worked for. But I am not that type of person...I don't take people away from their dreams.

I whispered back to him, "We are keeping the tracks as is. If your voice didn't crack, I would feel like you were singing lies. But you can't lie on these tracks... they have to be honest , even if they are painful. Thanks for lending your voice and bringing them to life".

He smiled back at me, his pink bangs fringing his watery, teary eyes. And you know what, I was not at all close to this guy. But I could feel my eyes tear up too. Some bonds are forged differently. We laughed at each other , leaky eyes meeting as the rest of the producers clapped me on the back, exiting the room.

It was the birth of something new.

______________________________________________

The track dropped 2 months later. No heavy marketing circuit. Just a midnight release and accompanying dance performance done by the artist to certain tracks on music bank and other channels.

It was everywhere by that morning. Flooding the radio, in all stores, in clubs, cafes , playing everywhere--even in a few ads and the central track anticipated to be in one long awaited korean drama which had already included it in its trailer .

The title track dominated the charts with its "charming simplicity" and "devastating lyrics and arrangement". Even the most astringent of critics lauded it as a "heart wrenching series of compositions that mimicked the death of love". Artists used it in edits and sang along to it. Even avid indie lovers who tended to harp on mostly overproduced pop songs spelled it out to be " the sound of scratching your soul on glass shards , melancholy and akin to slowly bleeding to death".

Placed in cursive handwriting below the title, in credits was my first name. Embossed in red script on the bottom of the album. Something for once, in its entirety, belonged to me.

The artist, Jimin, blew up overnight as well. He was a part of Jungkook's group and a lesser known member. He had been struggling til now to make an identity for himself, to distinguish himself as he had what some considered " weaker vocals" and only dance skills to show. But with this album, he ascended into the ranks. Showing up on billboard, even getting international acclaim. Invited to perform at the VMAs.

With my production and lyrics, and his innate talent, he beat out Jungkook's solo for the No. 1 spot on the Korean Hot 100- and stayed there for 4 weeks straight.

His fans argued that it was a fluke, a temporary deviation. Nothing to write home about.

But the talents and the machinery of the industry knew better.

Jungkook may have been spectacular, but he lacked depth. Depth and soul that the newcomer had. Singing that sounded like crying... that resounded in the souls of everyone who heard the artist live. And now the soul had someone's name encrypted into it, one that the industry couldn't afford to pretend away any longer.

Headlines ravaged the press, "Rookie member Dethrones Veteran Soloist in Weekly Chart", "Clash of Members due to Superior Skills ", "The Death and Birth of Pop".

All dramatic titles that reached me. I laughed dryly at the soap opera that was being played out in the headlines.

My life sure was changing quickly. I was being fought over...artists wanted me to direct and produce their albums. I had moved out of my apartment into a cozy house that I had always wanted, since I was a little girl. A homey, spacious cottage with a massive garden filled with fruit and flower trees.

My earnings were sky-rocketing and I bought properties to ensure that in case something happened, I still had the means to stay in my new house (that I now never wanted to leave).

At work I felt like I belonged. The other producers listened to my thoughts and took it seriously. I had my hands in a lot of projects. And it was all working out.

I showed up on my first talk show , a panel named "The Sound of Music". It was an entire show talking about female empowerment through music as a medium. The host of the show asked, "You have been behind the scenes for the longest time. Was your success something you expected"?

I pondered the question for a bit. "No, definitely not. But I built it , thinking that the outcome was inevitable . That there is no way I could possibly fail".

And that is how I continued my work. My newfound stability was reflected in my appearance. I had lost some weight from following a healthy lifestyle and my curves that had at one point made me look frumpy, now looked well-proportioned on my frame. No way would I be a model by any means, but my figure suited my frame. I was feeling more active than ever.

But life can't stay perfect like that now, can it? A headline dominated the frame of the news articles, "Idol involved in DUI, severely injured. Can he survive this"?

I stared at the title in bewilderment. Can he? Did he survive? I guess we'll find out.

[kaytheday]

Fault Lines

TW- There is some implied past sexual abuse. Please be kind to yourself and know your triggers. Enjoy!

Ace kicked the rock towards right in front of Steve.

He kicked the rock back. “You like Evie though, right?” He sounded strangely self conscious, very out of character for Steve Randle who was typically cocksure and angry. 

She kicked the rock across the sidewalk to Steve. “Is there a world where I don’t like Evie?” Ace thought of Evie. Beautiful and tall, confident and smart. One of the best hairdressers on the East Side too. Ace and Steve had both known Evie since they were little. They had all gone to the same church together and she lived on the block of their grandparents old house. Ace and Steve had known her since she was a baby and she also didn’t know why Steve was so adamant about this. 

“I was thinking about asking her out.” He kicked the rock back, never taking his eyes off the sidewalk. 

“Oh.” Ace can’t help feeling a little betrayed, though she doesn’t know why she would think that. “I-”

“Greaser!” She is rudely interrupted by a loud boy yelling at her from his car. Ace’s head snaps up and her heart starts thudding in her chest. The car swerves to the curb, causing her to jump at least eight feet in the air. Mixed in with the yelling a couple catcalls as at least five of them pour out of the car. 

Ace bends down and grabs her switchblade from the pocket on her jeans. Ace never really fought fair, not against boys and not if her gang was outnumbered. Before she can even start slashing, a boy grabs her from behind. She bucks, forcing herself to stay present and not retreat back into her head at the feeling of his hands on her. 

“Get the fuck off me!” She screams, butting her head back against his. His grip loosens as leans back to cup the blood pouring from his nose. Suddenly a fist slams into her ribs and the breath is driven from her body. She ends up on the ground, black spots dancing through her vision as a foot meets her head. She tries in vain to get up but the body on top of her makes it impossible. What happens next seems to go down in slow motion or maybe it’s all just hazy from the kick she took to the head. 

Steve is fighting three at once. He packs a mean punch and anyone on the East or West side knows never to take him on alone. That’s why there’s three on him. That’s when it happens. 

The fourth one runs up, pulling out a switchblade and slashing it towards him. It gets him good in the forearm, blood spouting down. 

“Steve!” Ace screams. The soc on top of her grabs her mouth and she can feel her eyes bug out of her skull. She was gonna pass out or something. The way he was on top of her, the hand on her mouth, it all felt so familiar. That’s when the fourth soc winds up again, he brings the knife back before it disappears into Steve’s side. Her screams are muffled underneath the boy's hand. 

“Oh my god-”

“I can’t believe you just-” The boy gets up off of her and they start running. They were just as scared as Ace, but not for the right reasons. They were scared they might have killed a boy. They were scared they would go to prison or ruin their futures. Ace was scared because she couldn’t lose Steve. He had always been in her life, through the rough patches, the tumultuous homes, the worst parts of her life. Her big brother had always been there to help her and now there was a chance that it was his life draining out on the pavement below their feet. 

Snapping out of her haze, she runs to him. She takes off the jacket she had been wearing, now dirty and ripped but it might be the key to keeping him alive. She presses it hard to his bleeding stomach. He gasps and cries out a little. 

“I know Stevie, but I gotta…” She trails off, forcing her head to remain here. 

“They got me real fucking good, huh?” 

“Yeah they did.” She pushes down on the jacket, another groan escapes his lips. “It’s gonna be okay?” 

“What about you? Are you… are you hurt? I saw him slam you…” She wondered how her brother could think of her when he was the one who had just been stabbed. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Her hands were soaked in blood. It pooled in her knuckles and caked underneath her fingernails as it leaked out of Steve’s body. He seemed to grow weaker with each passing second but Ace didn’t really know what to do. She was freaking out anyway. “You’re gonna be fine.” She was breathing heavy and her hands seemed to be moving in slow motion. 

“Ace, you gotta call someone.” Steve choked out between gasps. “It’s too much.” He grabbed at her hands, trying to push her away. “Ace.”

“Okay,” She said, her own hands shaking as she pressed them to Steven’s torso. “Okay, I will.” It should have been easy. Three digits. That wasn’t who she called though. 

“Hello?” Somehow the ten digits managed to come faster. 

“Darry?” She asked, sounding just like a little kid on that phone. She could hear the fearful withdrawn tone that accompanied her voice. 

“Ace, is that you? What’s goin’ on? What’s wrong?” Darry asked the questions in a scared succession, obviously worried from the way her voice sounded. She didn’t get spacey and absent minded often, only when something bad happened. It didn’t help that Darry knew her better than most people. “Ace?” 

“It’s Steve. He… they… there’s so much blood-” It was all she could think about as Steve’s blood stained the payphone and the dial. 

“Where are you?” He asked, interrupting her. 

“Corner of Sutton and Lancaster.” 

“Is it real bad?” She didn’t answer, just breathing harshly into the receiver. “Alright, if it is, you gotta call 9-1-1 but we’re on our way.” The line ran dead and Ace let the receiver hang, going back over to her brother. 

“Steve, it’s okay.” She said, helping press her hands against the wound in his torso. The blood slipped through her fingers and Steve was getting weaker. 

“Did you call?” 

“I called Darry.” 

“That’s good.” He said, his eyes fluttering. His body relaxed as if realizing that he was okay because Darry and Soda were on their way. 

“No, Steve!” Ace snapped. “Stay awake! You gotta!” She didn’t know how much time passed, hopefully not long but the squealing tires right next to them shook her out of whatever thoughts were happening. Ace startled easily, hoping that it wasn’t the soc group back for more. 

“Ace!” That was Soda. “How is he?” 

“Just fine.” Steve said tiredly. 

“Let’s get him in the car.” Darry says urgently. The two boys pull him up, Soda taking off his DX button up to press hard against his stomach. Ace opens the door and they pull him into the car. Soda takes off before they can even close the door. Ace sits in the back, pressing the DX shirt into his stomach. 

“It’s gonna be okay Stevie.” Soda says from the driver's seat. 

“Just keep pressure.” Darry orders. “Keep talkin’ Steve.” 

“I don’t really have much more to say.” Steve slurs tiredly. 

“Just say anything…” Ace can’t really pay attention to much of Steve’s tired mumblings. She’s too worried about the blood on her hands. 

Soon they are at the hospital. Partly due to Soda’s driving and the fact that Ace can’t really pay attention to anything. 

“I need help! It’s my friend!” Soda yells. A couple EMT’s run out with a stretcher and other medical equipment. “He’s hurt really bad!” 

“Please!” Ace screams and the EMT’s come, looking uncharacteristically bored. Shouldn’t they be more urgent? Shouldn’t they be as worried about this as Ace is? The answer must be no because they don’t even hesitate before getting to work. Soon they have taken Steve and the stray greasers are pointed in the direction of the waiting room. Ace can’t think, her head is full of mud and she feels awful. 

“-ce, are you hurt?” That’s Darry, shaking her shoulders. “Come on Ace, you’re covered in blood. What’s wrong?” 

“Nothin’... I’m… I… It ain’t mine.” 

“Okay.” He says gently, guiding her to a chair. She looks down at her hands which are coated in Steve’s drying blood. Her throat suddenly closes up. What if this was the last thing that was left of him? What if this was the last of the life left of Steve and it was on her hands? She didn’t think she could take that. Steve had been the only thing keeping her from being alone and now he might be gone. Her hands were shaking and she couldn’t breath and everything was wrong-

“Ace? Hey honey, it’s gonna be okay.” That was Sodapop, sitting on the chair right next to her with a hand on her back. She didn’t know where Darry was but she was too far back in her head to care. 

“Hey Ace, talk to me.” Soda says softly, a hand rubbing down her arm. 

“I-” She wraps her arms tightly around herself. “I don't know what’s wrong.” She manages to stammer out.

“That’s okay.” He said softly, wrapping his arms all the way around. Darry came back with a towel and a cup of water. 

“Whaddaya say we get that blood off, huh?” He reached for her hand but Ace jerked back. 

“Stop Darrel!” She snapped, not recognizing her own voice. “I can’t.” A normal person would cry right about now… right? She couldn't help thinking it. What was so wrong with her that she couldn’t cry? Her brother had been stabbed in front of her and if she lost him, she knew she’d lose everything. Steve was her only family and this dried blood on her hands was all that was left of him and now she couldn’t hardly breathe. 

“I’m not trynna hurt you Ace kid. I just wanna get the blood off.” 

She didn’t reply, just staring at the floor, hardly able to breathe. 

“Ace, please.” That’s Darry pleading now. “Just breathe for me kid. You’re gettin’ too worked up and you gotta stay calm baby.” She wants to snap at him but she feels utterly exhausted, like the life has been drained out of her. Instead of answering Darry, she just stares dejectedly at the floor. She can hear the Curtis boys whispering over her head but she doesn’t seem to have the energy to understand what they are saying. Something… probably about her. 

Ace honestly doesn’t know how to snap out of it. She can’t seem to crawl her way back to the surface from out of her own brain. So she lets it consume her. Something about the hands… it was always something about how the hands were placed. The way that soc had grabbed her rib cage and pinned her down with a hand firmly over her mouth. It had all felt so familiar… and not in the good way either. In the sort of way that chills you to the bone and makes you want to crawl out of your skin. 

Ace knew she was messed up. She could never figure out how to fix it. Nobody but Steve and Darry really knew the reason why. She couldn't imagine how Sodapop would react if she told him. He’d probably cry and sob and tell her he was sorry even though it wasn’t his fault. She should tell him. She knew that. How else was she supposed to explain when things like this happened? He would never truly understand if she never told him. 

That’s it. She didn’t want to think about this anymore. 

“I need some water.” She announces, getting up way too fast for her shaky body. 

“I can grab it for you Ace…” She doesn’t hear the rest of whatever Soda is saying before the ground rushes up to meet her so suddenly. 

♠♠♠

She feels cold when she wakes up again, though the body pressed next to hers is warm. Her whole right side is pressed into the cold tile of the hospital floor as her head is cradled in someone's lap. Ace starts to roll over, straightening her sore muscles. 

“Ace? You okay?” Comes the voice. It’s Sodapop, peering at her through wet red eyes. Her stomach tightens just a little. He could be crying from what had happened to Steve, that was certainly plausible. 

“Hey.” She says roughly, her throat feeling like sandpaper. He just looks at her for a while, taking a long wide eyed stare at her as more tears fall from his face. “Is Steve okay?” She asks then, suddenly scared that maybe something had happened. 

“Steve is in surgery. They said he should be out any minute. He’s gonna be okay.” She lets ou a breath. 

“So what’s wrong?” She asked tentatively. Soda wiped at his eyes, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. 

“Darry told me…” Her stomach lurches into her throat at that. “He told me a little about what…” 

“Darry told you what?” She asks, a little on edge from the whole thing. 

“I never knew the reason you tensed up like that or didn’t like people touchin’ you sometimes. I thought it was just a girl thing, y’know? I didn’t know the actual reason and now… I feel like shit.” 

“You feel like shit?” She questioned. 

“Not like that.” He said defensive. “I just didn’t know… that… that I should have been more gentle. I should’ve… should’ve been more careful-” She sits up quickly, causing her head to give a violent throb. 

“You asshole!” She finds herself yelling. “This is why I didn’t want you to fucking find out! I knew you would feel bad and treat me differently.” Ace can remember a long while ago wishing she could be softer. Wishing to be held and kept safe and realize that she didn’t have to hide every single bad thing about her. It was all so exhausting. Then she realized that this was why she wasn’t soft. Anytime someone got too close, she would just push them away. It took a lot to be tough on the East side and this was part of it. Maybe if she’d let Soda just help her, then she would feel better about this. 

“Ace, that ain’t what this is.” Soda said, the hurt obvious on his face. “I’d never treat you any differently over this. You know this wasn’t your fault, why would I ever think you’re a different person?” Ace just looked down at her hands in her lap. She knew it wasn’t her fault, right? 

“I didn’t want you to know.” She said softly.

“Ace,” He starts softly, pushing a hand onto hers. “It don’t change how I think about you. If anything, it shows me how to help you better. Why wouldn’t you want me to know?” The look on his face was so genuine that she felt like freaking out again. 

“I… I don’t know Soda. It’s like this thing… this terrible thing that happened to me when I was a kid keeps… it just keeps sittin’ on my chest. I don’t know how to fix it.” She said, stuttering through the admission. “I’m so messed up in my head and I don’t… I can’t fix it… I’ve tried everything but it never leaves me.” 

“Oh honey.” Sodapop said, scooting closer and wrapping an arm around her. She fell into his chest naturally, his chin sitting on top of her head. 

“It’s not that I didn’t want to tell ya Soda, honest! I just never knew how to go about it. I was scared you would think bad of me. That it was my fault-” 

“This ain’t your fault Ace.” Soda said sternly. “Something like this would never be your fault and I would never think that it was.” She settled at that. It was good for her to hear it outloud. She’d never really thought that Soda could be mad at her for something like that but the small part of her brain always insisted that she could be wrong. He could hate her over it. 

“Okay.” She said softly. 

“I love you Ace, ain’t nothin’ gonna change that. Certainly not some jerkoff who doesn’t deserve to be within two feet of you. I’d kill him if I ever saw him.” She shuddered a little bit, Ace hoped she’d never have to see that man again. 

“I love you too.” She mumbled back into his chest. 

Ace didn’t know how long they sat like that. Probably too long with her pretending not to cry and Soda just rubbing her back. Her body was slowly going numb from their position on the floor and the weight of everything that had happened. That was how Darry found them. 

“Hey guys,” He said gently, likely unsure if Ace was even awake. She turned towards him. “Steve just got out of surgery and doc said we can go back in a minute. If you want.” Soda helped Ace stand and they followed the man in the white coat. Ace wanted to be mad at Darry for telling Soda her biggest, most disgusting secret. But after the way that Soda had helped her, she didn’t know if she could anymore. Besides, she didn’t want Darry to remove the hand from her shoulder as they navigated the hospital hallways. 

Looking down at her hands, she realized. The blood coating them was gone, it had obviously been scrubbed off. She must have really been out of it. Darry or Soda must have done it though Ace suspected that it was Darry. Not that she had time to figure out that mystery, they were fast approaching Steve’s room. 

“Here you guys are. Just letting you know that his body went through quite a lot, so just be aware that it’s possible he might not wake up for a little while. If you need anything just use Steve’s call button.” Darry nodded professionally and shook hands with the doctor. 

Steve didn’t look too great when they stepped into the hospital room. He was hooked up to an IV and some other unknown wires. His face held some bruises from the earlier altercation and his knuckles were still scabbed over with blood. He was shirtless and had a sheet covering the lower half of his body. His torso was clad in bandages. 

Soda immediately went over to his side but Ace hesitated a little bit before going on his other side and grabbing his hand. She felt scared that she might do something to screw up the complicated mess of wires surrounding him. 

“Stevie, you’re gonna be okay.” She said softly, almost like a ghost. Darry was gone but Ace didn’t have the time to think about where. She was too busy staring at her brother. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout this one bit Acey.” Soda said gently, trying to catch her eye. “Doc said he’s out of the woods now so he should wake up and be okay.” She didn’t say anything for fear of choking and having another episode like the last time. Instead, she inched the chair closer to his side and laid her head as close to his body as possible. 

“You gotta be fine Steve.” She said again. Before anything else could happen, Darry came back into the room with a glass of water and a towel. 

“Figured we could clean off his hands since the nurses didn’t bother.” He looks as though he’s asking for permission and Ace can’t figure out why until she remembers how she had freaked out when Darry had tried to clean up her hands. 

“That’s fine.” She says absently, watching Darry scrub the skin and nails that are dried over with blood. She looks at Steve’s face, watching for a sign that he feels it. That he might wake up. Nothing. 

Finally, when his hands are clean and the three have sat in silence for a little longer does a nurse come in. 

“Hey y’all,” She says softly with a cheery voice. “Just wanted to let you know that visiting hours are now over and nobody but family can be here overnight.” Ace looks panickedly at Darry and Soda. Before she can open her mouth to cuss out the well meaning nurse, Darry has pulled the girl into the hall and seems to be talking to her. 

“We ain’t gonna leave him Ace.” Soda says softly, rubbing a thumb over her hand. She smiles wanly back, briefly aware in the back of her mind how weak she must look right now but not really caring. Darry then comes back inside, clasping his hands together as he goes over to Ace. 

“We’ve made a compromise. I’m gonna go, but Soda here will stay the night with you and Steve, Ace. Does that sound okay?” She nods. “ I really am sorry, but that's all they could do. Plus I should get back to Ponyboy and make sure the gang knows what’s goin’ on.” 

“Sure, thanks Dar.” Soda says answering for her. She still can’t move, her eyes are glued to her brother. The one who rescued her. The one who always rescued her. Darry grabs her shoulders slowly, giving them a squeeze and placing a kiss on the top of her head. 

“You two be good now and let us know if anything changes. Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

It gets quiet after Darry leaves, more quiet than it was before. Besides the steady beeping of the heart monitor and Soda’s foot shaking the chair he’s sitting in, there is no sound in the barren hospital room. The kind nurse from before ends up bringing in one cot.

“You doin’ okay Ace?” Soda asks tentatively. 

“Yeah.” She answers shortly. 

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep baby. I know it’s been a rough couple hours. You could crawl up with Steve, his wires are all goin’ one way anyhow.” She looks at him with that, she does feel really tired. 

“Sure.” She says and they manage to get her settled on the bed with Steve without jostling his wires too much. She lays her head on his shoulder and sucks in his deep scent. It reminds her of when they were little kids. Sharing a bed because there was only one and Ace was too scared to sleep without her big brother near her for long. For a second, she can almost pretend that they are still little kids. That nothing bad has happened to either of them. That they’re both still young and carefree. That nothing has touched them. It’s only then that she is able to drift off. 

♠♠♠

There is a split second between being asleep and being awake that Ace seems to forget everything bad that ever happened. Her face is pressed into her brother's shoulder and someone is calling her name. 

“Ace!” She snapped her neck trying to move to the sound of the voice. 

“Steve?” 

“Yeah… What the hell happened?” He asked, straight to the point like he always was. She can’t help the way that she scoots closer to him. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” She breaths. “It didn’t look good for a little while. 

“The hell? I’m fine. Now what happened?” 

“You were stabbed at the corner of Sutton and Lancaster.” She says easily. 

“That would explain why I feel so shitty.” 

“Yeah, a couple of soc’s jumped us and I couldn’t… They stabbed you.” He tries to catch her eyes as she drops them. 

“This ain’t your fault and don’t be thinkin’ for one second that it is. I know you’re smarter than that. There were five of ‘em, I know you did all you could.” She smiles a little at that. 

“Okay.”

“So… Now we’re at the hospital?” 

“Yeah, I called Darry and Soda and they drove us to the hospital.” 

“That would explain the snoring on the cot over there.” He says loudly, as if trying to wake Soda who is knocked out on the cot. 

“Yeah, he drove us.” There’s a beat of silence while the two siblings try to get back into sync with each other. 

“How are you Ace? They didn’t get you too good, did they?” 

“Soda knows now.” She blurts suddenly. “Darry told him.” 

“About…?”  Steve’s eyebrows go up and down as he finally realizes what she’s talking about. “And you’re okay with it? You didn’t kill Darry, did you?” She laughs softly. 

“No. Surprisingly, it feels… okay… for Soda to know.”

“Yeah, he has that effect on people. The asshole.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I called him too.” The siblings both laugh, nearly waking Soda. 

“I’m glad you feel good but I’m serious, is your head okay? Did they get you anywhere?” He asks, bringing a hand up to feel her head for anything.

“I’m fine.” She says, swatting his hand away. 

“Just checking.” He says shrugging, then wincing when it hurts. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah… I just can’t move too good.” 

“You want me to get a nurse? I”m sure they could give you some more of those pain meds.” Steve just shakes his head, like Ace knew he would. He never liked to take more pain meds than he needed too. Instead, he would insist on toughing it out. Scooting a little closer, Ace managed to nod off, keeping her eyes closed when she heard Soda start to stir. 

“Steve!” He said loudly and Ace flinched. 

“Shut the hell up man!” Steve snapped. “Ace just fell back asleep.” 

“Oh sorry.” He whispered. “She okay?” 

“I don’t think so.” Steve said honestly. 

“Man, she wasn’t doin’ too hot last night either.” 

“What happened?” Steve asked. 

“Would hardly talk when we got to the hospital, her eyes got like that… that glazed look in em’, like she wasn’t even seeing me. Then she just full on passed out. I don’t know man, it scared the shit outta me.” 

“She said that Darry told you about…” 

“Yeah,” Soda finished for him. “He did. I never knew.” 

“It was probably something about the way that soc grabbed her. She says it’s always something about the hands on her.” 

“Why wouldn’t she tell me though? I could have helped. She tells me everything else!” Soda sounded close to tears and it scared Ace. Though she didn’t dare move, she just lay there, pretending to sleep and curling deeper into Steve’s uninjured side. 

“It ain’t like she was itchin’ to talk about it. It’s hard to say things like that, especially to one of the people you love most in the world.” Steve snapped and Ace was grateful. She didn’t know how to put into words why it was so hard to tell Sodapop. “Just talk to her some more later.” Steve says in a softer tone. “She’d never stay mad at you.” The two are quiet for a minute and Ace almost thinks that Steve has fallen asleep. 

“How ya feelin’ Stevie?” 

“Like shit. I can’t believe Dally did this last year and didn’t go to a real hospital.” Ace thinks back to when Dally got stabbed at Buck’s bar. He’d insisted he was fine and found a home nurse to tend to him. No painkillers or nothing. He was fine now but for a minute, Ace had thought he might die with all the blood he’d lost. That’s when she started to sit up. 

“I told Dal he should have gone to a real hospital.” She said, her voice still rough from sleep but Soda and Steve pay no mind. 

“You really think Dally woulda listened to you?” Soda asks incredulously. 

“Better than he would have listened to you!” She snaps, earning a smile from her brother in the hospital bed. 

“That’s true and you know it's Soda. He listens to Ace better than he does me or you.” Soda put his hands up in mock surrender and laughed. The doctor came in then, effectively silencing all three of the greasers. 

“Hello Mr. Randle, how are you feeling?” Steve pulled his professional blank face that he did with authoritarian figures. 

“Just fine sir.” The doctor looked at him incredulously. “A little sore.” 

“That's to be expected.” 

“He said he was in a little bit of pain too doc, can ya do anything for it?” Soda asked, throwing a grin Steve’s way. 

“Of course, the nurse should come in shortly with another round of painkillers. You are quite the fighter son.” The doctor complimented. 

“Thank you sir, but when can I get outta here?” 

“In a couple of days perhaps, we will still need to monitor the incision site and make sure that everything is healing up alright before you leave. You’ll also want those painkillers as long as you can get them. We’re just gonna take it day by day for now.” Steve smiled a little at that. 

“I’m not trynna be in here for that long.” 

“We figured.” The doctor said kindly. “And you’re a strong young man, so I’m sure you’ll heal quickly.” Steve managed to shake the doctor's hand and he left the room. 

“Soda, you didn’t have to tell him all that.” Steve grumbled. 

“Yeah? Say that again when the nurse comes in with more painkillers. You’re gonna be thanking me.” He said with a grin and Ace couldn’t help but to laugh. Maybe, just maybe, they’d all be okay. 

“You good Ace?” Steve asked, craning his neck to peer down at her. 

“I’m good if you're good Stevie.” 

“Then I guess we’re good.” 

A03 Link

Tag-list, AKA those who wanted to be notified: @littlestarbigsky @thetireonstageright @brunetteairhead

[shini--chan]

Your karma hcs were lit af! Can I request some Yan hcs about gakushu asana and/or the chairman/ gakuho asano. The reader could be a class A student on the school council and/or a teacher for class A but like a gentle, innocent and intelligent one? Thank you and stay hydrated regardless of you writing it!🌸🌸

Thx you for the kind words.

Yandere Assassination Classroom - Summer Wine

Trigger warnings: coercion, blackmail, bullying

Gakushu Asana would be the more energetic of the two. Since you would be a classmate of his, you would be forced to interact with him. And he would be drawn to you because you would be the only one that can compete with him, the only one that he would see as on his level. Thus, your intelligence would be a curse as well as a blessing - he wouldn’t look down on you as much as he would others. However, it would also be the reason that he would hunt you, because he would regard you as his fated partner. Since you would be the only one for him, he would under no circumstances let you go. You would be a challenge and thus he would be energised and seemingly magnetically drawn to you. 

Gakushu would find excuses to be close with you, be it group projects or team-ups or sport events. Since he would have more honour than his father, he wouldn’t resort to illegal methods to drive you into his arms. That wouldn’t mean he wouldn’t resort to shady tactics, like innocently convincing his teachers to constantly pair you with him, so that he could help you “reach your full potential”. Even if you would strive to avoid him the best you can, you wouldn’t really be able to disobey the teacher, would you?

Should you not be drawn in by his charms by the get go, then he would spin a story of woe to make you keep him company. Perhaps he would tell you that his family is pressuring him to get into a relationship, and that he would require your help - he would frame it as a fake-romance, and that he would relinquish you as soon as the storm would blow over. However, he would demand ever more from you to keep up “the ruse”.If all that wouldn’t work, then he would have his cronies bully you into accepting his demands. In the case of the latter happening, then you wouldn’t be given any quarter or any sort of mercy or sweet lies. 

Gakuho Asano would indisputably have more power over you, with him being the headmaster and you being a mere teacher. Of course, there would be your work contract determining the rules of the game, yet he would excel at abiding the rules to a t and still bending them to achieve what he would desire. First, he would seek to test you to see if you would be really worth his affections. 

For that, he would assign you the more demanding classes, present you with a list of requirements that your students must fulfil, make you work over hours and send you on field trips with class in short succession. Furthermore, he would inform the other teachers that they should keep their help towards you to a minimum. Additionally, they should report your state and statements to him, and defend him should they complain to them about your workload. 

You would pass with flying colours, and Gakuho would draw you closer to him with lofty praise. From then on, you would be controlled with the carrot and the stick, all with the intention of making you more dependent on him. Should push come to shove and you refuse to comply, then he would drag the skeletons in your closet to light, or also intent trumped up charges and threaten to make it impossible to find a job outside his school.

[faceofpoe]

On Wilmon (and Luthen and Cassian)

I'm a little scared to muse "what are we doing with Wilmon?" but fuck it, what are we doing with Wilmon?

His journey into s2 was always most intriguing to me of the ones on that ship in Rix Road because of the echoes of Cassian's -

-sparing a moment to be emotional about how he was *almost* arrested but Brasso, Brasso got him, Brasso saved him and -

So we've got teenage boy lashing out at his father's death and attacking a garrison - but Wilmon's been spared the horrors (I mean, or more likely execution, but) of what came next for Cassian. And we don't know anything about Sipo/Mimban really except that Mimban was enough to put it into Cassian's head that fighting is useless, that 'rebellion' is a joke.

Wilmon gets a chance to breathe and recover on Mina-Rau but it was always a matter of time, of course it was, and then he's in, properly in, sometime between arcs.

And we meet him with Saw. Luthen sent him to Saw. Not going to dig into the 'wow really thought he'd still be with Saw's outfit in arc 3' until arc 4 maybe sheds some light or not on his Saw time/connections (read: I am wondering if Wilmon will be instrumental in getting Tivik's message to Cassian? or if the message was meant for Wilmon? Or Luthen more generally? Idk I can't remember if it's clear that Tivik and Cassian actually know one another or not tbh). Saw's a scary dude, Saw shoots his own guy right in front of him, Saw does his weird-ass initiation rite or *something* with the damn rhydo.

Anyway Wilmon is back with Luthen by arc 3 and he's...

Everything Luthen wanted from Cassian?

(Luthen got Wilmon in the messy break up and this is so fantastically complicated I want to fic about it forever)

Luthen is vaguely "making things happen" and whatever those things Cassian is skeptical and Wilmon is committed.

"You act like Luthen's the enemy" / "Wouldn't that be easier" will be the subject of many hours musing these three in the week/weeks ahead I expect, anyway.

Wilmon has taken over the Ghorman... advising? role while Vel has broken up with Luthen and Cassian is... hiding. Sort of hiding. He's injured - he doesn't like that Wilmon has shared this with Luthen. Luthen wants to put him back to work and has apparently pulled Wilmon away from Ghorman to try and coax Cassian back into the circle.

(insert hilarity over 'hey here's this person it'd be very easy to kill her but we need this one (1) specific guy to pull that trigger' no one on site could possibly make it happen)

(this however does lend implication to things that Cassian perhaps got very good at under Luthen's employ)

(I have so many Thoughts about the breakdown between them in arc 2 and after the show is done I expect I will be waxing poetic about the whole playing with the negative space concept but anyway)

Wilmon and Cassian have *the most heart-wrenching scene* parting ways on Ghorman and -

Wilmon goes back, gets it done, makes it out, makes it home. Hurt, but home. And that's kind of where we leave it. He needs a doctor and Cassian takes him back to Yavin.

So where do we go from here?

We never get to see Luthen & Wilmon on screen together and this haunts me lol BUT. I daresay we use Wilmon to sort of show that Luthen has... learned something? From arc 2? We don't hear Kleya ask, and maybe she did, but that's Luthen's question upon meeting Cassian: "Wilmon?" and he looks a bit perturbed by Cassian's reply and then Kleya pops in and "hey guys there's an emergency let's focus" changes the topic.

[insert Senate drama]

Upon arriving at the safehouse and chugging some water, Cassian nods at the back and asks Kleya "Is he back there?" and Kleya nods and this felt like a really weird script crack where we just didn't see Cassian get news about Wilmon making it home but the more I turn this over I'm wondering if he meant "Is *Luthen* back there?" and if we're meant to infer Luthen's hand... somehow... in helping get them to safety.

[this might be reading way too much into my favorite problematic blorbo and I have zero concept of the passage of time between the Senate flight and the safehouse arrival but]

Anyway they have the whole 'they wanna rewrite the story' (lol) thing and Cassian's response is to challenge, "what does *Luthen* want?"

"He wants Wilmon with a doctor."

And we might read that a few ways. Mon has moved beyond Luthen's concern and how she goes from here isn't his problem.

Wilmon just really needs a doctor and Wilmon is valuable.

Wilmon is Cassian's people and he's already pushed Cassian away by being dismissive about the importance of those connections.

Or Luthen is... letting Wilmon go?

Genuinely I have no idea beyond that the ep twice draws attention to Luthen's concern for Wilmon's whereabouts/wellbeing amidst the "immediate problem." And he's talking about burning all his bridges and Cassian is very aware that the clock is ticking before Luthen is discovered.

And Wilmon has maybe sort of taken Cassian's place in some kinda way but it's Cassian who Luthen wants to extract Mon "I wasn't sure you'd come", Cassian as the guy "I know I can trust" Cassian who Luthen has his vague *destiny vibes* about.

If Rix Road was Wilmon's attacking the garrison with a stick (a really impressive stick), then Ghorman was Wilmon's Rix Road and he did the job, he went back for his person and saved who he could and made it away.

Anyway I figure arc 4 has three options:

first - zero/minimal Wilmon. He speed-ran Cassian's story from age 13-end of season 1 but without the prison trauma, he's now vaguely in the background of the Alliance somewhere probably, not part of the arc 4 story.

second - Wilmon recovers and goes back to Luthen 'til the bitter end, perhaps maintains some Saw ties in this capacity.

third - Wilmon tied in amongst the Yavin side but drawn into whatever endgame dramatics will undoubtedly bring Cassian back into Luthen and Kleya's orbit one last time.

I don't know I want any of these answers more or less than the others. I think I could be satisfied with option the first, if what we had is what we're going to get.

But I also still wonder if this final arc isn't going to sucker punch me with Wilmon in some way I haven't anticipated.

Anyway. Wilmon. Muhannad Bhaier. Damn.

[twst-drabbles]

Hi there! 👋 I recently discovered your House Pet AU and Sanctuary AU. They’re really intriguing!!

I’m curious about AU Leona and Falena. Sorry if you’ve already mentioned this before…but I was wondering if you’ve ever touched on his origins? I know he’s a land spirit and he is/was under Falena’s care, but how did it come to be so? He was fond of Falena so much so that he took a form based off him. It seems to be implied that they’ve know each other since the very beginning when Leona was born or not long after that. Was Leona found, rescued, or bought?

Speaking of, what exactly is Falena’s occupation? I get the impression that he’s some kind of big shot politician and/or business man that’s ridiculously wealthy having come from Old Money. Or is he nobility? Or even royalty the same as in regular TWST?

Where is he and his family in the Sanctuary AU? I imagine that’s a rough and emotional reunion between them and Leona. Angsty thoughts: You did say that the mages that took the pets were rich and influential. Perhaps at some social function or the other, Falena had shook the hand, made small talk with the person who was keeping Leona captive. All the while painfully unaware. Maybe something out of Falena’s control triggers recollection in Leona of his old captor. A small detail like a random suit he chose to wear that day that Leona remembers his old captor wearing while they carved stones out of his body.

Ahhhhh!!! I’m sorry again if anything here has already been answered! You have really cool ideas!

Let's see, let's seeeee, Imma put this under the cut because it's going to get long.

Oh yeah, keep in mind that my memory is…not the best, so if things are contradictory, it is not on purpose, I genuinely don't remember and need reminders. So please, if anything seems weird or wrong, tell me!!! So I can remember!!!!

So, initially I didn't have much of an idea. Just wanted to keep everything vague until something hit me. Only details in my brain was that Leona was there before Cheka was born, probably before Falena got married, and that he's an unusual choice of magical pet to have due to his sanding properties. Oh and Falena's occupation had to do something with pets. Wanted to continue on with that pattern. A simple background all things considered. Probably was originally the pet of Falena's father before he got too sick to take care of Leona and gave him to Falena.

Back then, poaching laws didn't really apply to magical pets, so Leona was captured by pretty dubious means, something Falena does suspect but can't really prove, and neither can his father. Either way, Leona's in his care now. And Leona did not like Falena initially. In fact, did everything in his power to get away from Falena, but, well, he is a young spirit and isn't exactly the most well equipped to handle the city outside. Still didn't have a form yet, but was beginning to learn how to shine different colors. Just a weird mound of sand that moved, plopped, twitched and shuffled.

Little dude got lost, and Falena nearly lost all his hair worrying about him. He was luckily found, and if Leona wasn't spoiled before, he sure was spoiled afterwards. Yes yes, he was annoyed with the fussing, but Leona really wouldn't have it any other way. So, yeah Falena was pretty much with Leona for the majority of his life. By the time Cheka was born, Leona had been experimenting with Falena's form. It completely solidified when a baby Cheka's eyes would light up every time he took on Falena's form. Got Falena crying that's for sure.

Let's see, I have Mozus be someone who advocates against the poaching of the magical creatures, Divus designs clothes for all sorts of pets, Crowley has very distinct knowledge about said pets that he publishes every so often, Ashton is a physical therapist for these pets, Sam's shop is the go to place to go to for all your pet needs, Neige is training to be a vet for said magical pets, Kalim's family breeds naga's and is dabbling in land restoration because of Kalim's magic, Caretaker is shaping up to be a daycare for said pets and the Kingscholar family?

Hmm…land preservation, probably. The Kingscholar family has acres upon acres of land that they probably use as a refuge for poached pets, or for pets that can no longer live in their current environment. Magic is a recent thing, but also not so recent. As in, the Caretaker is basically living in a generation where all the magical consequences have reared it's head, and now they're barely starting to clean shit up. Magic does create a byproduct after all, and said byproduct was just dumped into any old place without any concern for the consequences. I don't really have any traditional royalty happening here, so while the Kingscholar family probably were royal at one point, and probably still benefiting from the sheer wealth and land, reshaping the law as they see fit is out of their hands by this point.

Oh and Leona was born from the sands of a land that was suffering desertification. Treated as an omen by the locals there, which obviously also plays a part in why Leona is who he is.

Now, as for what Falena and his family are doing in the Sanctuary AU, well also aiding in the efforts to track down the pets, and also helped fund the Caretaker for a new home. Well, I'm pretty sure everyone in the Night Raven Neighborhood is pitching in their efforts to help the Caretaker out and track down the pets, tis a shitty situation to have happen. They're not gonna ignore it. Though, I imagine that there was only so much Falena could do, because the Caretaker wasn't the only one attacked and had pets stolen. Falena has a refuge for many a wild pet, I would imagine some of them also went missing.

Hmm, I think Falena even gave part of his land to the Caretaker, no strings attached, said land eventually becoming an inn for pets to be left and taken care of. By the time the pets were taken, Leona has either fully become the Caretaker's pet or was about to become their pet.

Haha, yeah that's a highly likely scenario. Falena feels like the kind of fella to have that particular kind of bad luck. Falena is still has blood connected to royalty, so I imagine invitations have been stretched to him. Been rejected them for a while in favor of his current passions, but began to accept them to widen the social net and see if anything catches.

Also, ough, yeah Leona's having the worst time and has been putting off seeing Falena and Cheka time and time again. He's not afraid to see them, more that the sight of pity in their eyes that they're going to give to him will make him sick to his stomach. He's a mess, he knows it, no point in showing himself because that's only going to make him made later.

…Falena has a specific cologne that Leona doesn't like. The minute he sniffs it, his tongue gets caught in the back of his throat and words suddenly become impossible. Moving becomes impossible, and when Falena is made to leave, Leona doesn't want to get out of the corner/hiding place.

[katyspersonal]

Hello, I hope you don’t mind me asking but I’ve always wondered what are your thoughts on Radahn?

I feel like he’s probably the most misunderstood character in the whole game at this point. I constantly see people trying to blame certain events on him (like the Leyndell siege) when there seems to be no evidence that he was even there. There’s the art of him fighting with Margit in the intro but in my opinion that doesn’t necessarily mean it took place outside Leyndell. It could have happened at Stormveil as we do know Radahn had beef with Godrick at one point. However, there is no sign of any Redmane activity on the battleground outside the capital.

This is also why I’m so confused at people who say he wanted to be a Lord when there’s nothing in his lore that says that. He idolizes Godfrey for his battle prowess, but that doesn’t mean he wanted to become a Lord like him. Another thing I see people say is that he was a warmonger, which again I find to be unfair to him as he is never stated to have started any wars. The only war he was a part of he didn’t start and only seemd to be defending himself from Miquella and Malenia who were hellbent on using him against his will. Sorry if this seems like rambling only it annoys me when people try to paint him as a bad person when the game literally tells us he was kind and probably the closest to being a decent Demigod when compared to his siblings

Hey, Anon! Thank you for this ask! I can actually agree with the general sentiment you are expressing! Though there is an idea I feel like actually works!

For example, it makes a lot of sense that he would have attacked Leyendell!

This is the image of Morgott fighting Radahn, right? And this is what Kenneth has to say about Godrick that addresses it:

Yes, it could seem as though this is just Morgott defending Godrick, but there is a seeming plothole as to who was responsible for the Second Defence of Leyendell then! Attack of Godrick and Godefroy triggered the First Defence of Leyendell, and seemed to have been an attempt to strike back after being driven out from their place by right:

Godrick only attempted to invade the capital once, and since then has been crashed! However, not only the 'Fell Omen' became associated with defending the Erdtree, so, the Elden Throne, but also the first time he got mentioned in history was during the Second Defence of Leyendell:

And while it's true that Morgott also defends Godrick, I feel like Kenneth would have made mention of it. Morgott also didn't defend him from Malenia, so everything goes honestly. He might have only started doing so because of the rows of Tarnished that could threaten the weak Demigod

Radahn admires Godfrey and the days of heroic battle glory associated with him, that's for sure! The days by now gone, replaced with a more "modern", scholarly vision of the Erdtree / Golden Order, the days that he yearns for. To think of it, he doesn't really have an ideological reason to attack Godrick, since the two want the same, admire the same and think the same! 🤔 However, he might have wanted to challenge him as he is the true heir to Godfrey, maybe not being aware that Godrick is incapable! Alternatively, Radahn might have simply wanted the Lordship, and getting rid of the competition!

Radahn and Godrick are, however, listed amongst traitors by Morgott all the same, when with Godrick we know he wanted the throne! He is very much what Morgott had wished at least one """proper""" Demigod would do, and yet? So this doesn't exclude Radahn from being like this. I think the "traitor" aspect here comes from the fact that both Godrick and Radahn wish for the Golden Order to no longer be what it is, they want to bring back the glory battle days of pre-Radagon era. Radagon is Golden Order and Golden Order is Erdtree, the seal would not open even if Morgott never resisted either of the attacks on Leyendell and put a red carpet path before them!

^^^ I also definitely don't think that it was Rykard who was responsible for the second attack on Leyendell! If anything, it seems that Morgott has shown the initiative to deal with his blasphemy to himself and sent his army on Mt. Gelmir after him!

So, Rykard was attacked first, Godrick and Godefroy only attacked Leyendell once, Malenia and Miquella certainly had no interest in it... This all only leaves Radahn as a good candidate for the second attack, and the image of Morgott kicking his ass that we see just helps! All in all, it is a reasonable assumption!

As for the "warmonger" part, I believe this must be the culprit:

It seems like it should be a plot twist, a subversion of what we had previously learned of Radahn, right...? But I'd rather say it is an effect of unreliable narrator! If I had to choose who must know Radahn more out of the two, I'd definitely choose Jerren!

Both were very close friends of Radahn, this is certain, and both basically got "adopted" by him from their previous lifestyle. But whereas Jerren was a lonesome, wandering kind of a guy that ended up admiring Radahn so much that he finally found something to hold dear by his side, Freyja already has been a gladiator and Radahn himself wanted such a brave and strong person in his army!

I think Freyja is acting impulsively from what she knows of Radahn. He was cool and he would for sure want to live again so he can keep fighting. She doesn't even seem to realise Miquella's world won't allow him to do endless wars, and says that endless war "befits" Radahn better! She doesn't state this is what he would have wanted, she specifically says it is... simply more badass? Is this it? x) It seems to be just her opinion. It is no much different in Japanese script:

ジェーレン爺には悪いが、ラダーン将軍には、戦いこそが相応しい 名誉ある最期などよりも、ずっとな 終わりなき戦い、燃えるような戦い それでこそ、ラダーン将軍。それでこそ、獅子だ

Yes, whereas Radahn values a great fight more than anything, would the proud lion that he is really accept the humiliation of being cheatcoded away from his sworn death in a battle?

At the same time, whereas Radahn had an oath with Jerren of giving each other an honorable death, he also had a vow with Miquella to join him as a consort. 🤔 In Japanese, both the oath in description with Jerren and the vow with Miquella use the word 約束 (so, a promise, or one's word). ( x ) ( x ) If Malenia and Radahn fought, did that mean that Radahn already broke a promise once? Or the intention was that he would only be "reborn" through death in a battle, but it went wrong? But why it took such a long time to make sure he got defeated properly? Or maybe this promise never meant much for Radahn and he was just humouring young Miquella? Or a promise only existed in Miquella's head to begin with?

For example, Radahn started to study the gravity magic just so he could continue riding Leonard, but in the process became hungry for more and mastered it to the point of battling the stars themselves! It is certainly not out of character for him to change his mind in the process, so, to "grow out" of his promise with Miquella! He was younger, after all. But unlike an oath of "killing ourselves and getting married when we grow up :3", an oath of letting his friend die on a high note if something bad happens and receiving the same oath is NOT a thing the guy basing his whole personality on glory and honor would take lightly! I think what Freyja says is just the final nail in the coffin of Radahn's agency, even if she certainly doesn't have an ill intent...

Japanese text says it more like "they did not have" or "that they lacked", as well as calls them weak/fragile rather than afflicted:

幼き日、ミケラはラダーンに王を見た 脆弱な自分たちにはない、強さを そして優しさを

The "stark contrast" just makes them sound as if they were opposites of these traits, and it also doesn't work! The twins are far from weak and evil respectively! If anything, original text instead gives an impression of Malenia and Miquella not having this level of strength and kindness! There was a big gap rather than a complete absence, something to aspire to, especially if the twins were still little. It would actually be sweet if Malenia was inspired to grow up a strong warrior and Miquella was inspired to be as kind as possible all because Radahn gave them a good role model back then ;-;

______________________

In general, I think the assumption that he attacked Leyendell too is reasonable! He also certainly loves the battle and is at his peak when he challenges and conquers, as well as admires a guy responsible for a lot of territorial aggressions! Someone who lives to fight can be definitely addressed as a warmonger, and the whole sentiment of "missing good old days" that were not actually good but torn with wars and conquests can be rather uncomfortable for some people! Heck, I addressed him as a warmonger on multiple occasions! This is fair, but just like you said, he is definitely not the worst!

I'd also say that when you discuss fictional characters though, words like "warmonger", "tyrant", "fascist" etc are a good thing! Characters are just narrative tools to showcase a standpoint or to progress a story, and war criminal characters are able to showcase absolutely unique situations and mindsets! That is, it only works as long as the term truly applies to a character, and I am not always sure if it does with Radahn.

He is a good character and is definitely heroic from the internal logic of Elden Ring's standpoint, and he doesn't deserve the negativity he gets in the fandom! Mostly from the Twitbr side; ever since Redditors crowned him as their king, fans developed a reflexive repulsion by this character and kept acting like it was a valid way to engage with the story, and after SOTE he gets additional bashing for "stealing the spot" from Godwyn or Malenia or whatever! This is where acting like the statement of him being kind is some huge contradiction comes from