#i was at the right place but the book wasn't -_-

[witherby]

imagine how cute would be if Bruce brings the little wayne to his work on wayne tower 🥺 the moment would be ruined if some paparazzi taking photos with flash and scaring the baby

Sooo the baby didn't end up getting scared, but this idea did make me spit out 2000 words worth of content. I hope that's a fair compromise :3

THE LITTLEST WAYNE: TAKE YOUR KID TO WORK DAY

Featuring: Bruce talking to you like a colleague, a newspaper article, and an overprotective Damian.

"Morning, Clarice. Donuts and coffee are getting delivered in five minutes if you wanna pop downstairs and help yourself. Afterwards, do me a favor and rebook the consultation with Lexcorp for sometime next month? The further out the better."

Bruce's secretary nodded, fingers flying across the keys to accommodate his request. She tucked a lock of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear and shot him a polite smile.

"Of course, mister Wayne — oh, goodness gracious."

Bruce's placid expression quickly became embarrassed. He tried to walk past her but she was already on her feet and rounding the desk, heels clicking over the linoleum floor to stand in front of him and the bundle on his arm.

"Who is this!" She cried, immediately fawning over you. You stared blankly at her as you suckled on your binky, wrapped up in a tiny Nightwing onesie (Dick got to the clothes first this morning) and hugging your father's arm. "Oh, my, you're the most adorable baby I've ever seen! I'm Clarice! I'm your father's personal secretary, and apparently the last person to find out anything, including when he adopted yet another child!"

"This wasn't a...planned acquisition," Bruce muttered, the tips of his ears pink. He let the blonde gently squish your fat cheeks and you preened under the attention, lifting one fuzzy-wrapped hand to brush against her wrist.

"A planned acquisition. Like you're another company he bought on a whim and not a precious angel," Clarice giggled. "What a doll... If you ever need a babysitter, Mister Wayne, please don't hesitate to call me!"

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, exasperated but smiling good-naturedly. "Have a great day, Clarice."

"You, too! Bye-bye, angel!" She waved, and squealed when you waved back.

Bruce disappeared into his office with you, bouncing you gently on one arm while the other shrugged off the duffel bag he carried with him. Zipping it open, he quickly tugged out a pop-up bassinet to place you in, then the pieces to an enclosed play pen he built and filled with some blankets, a couple toys, and an extra Red Robin binky (Tim got to the toys first this morning).

"Okay," he sighed, scooping you up and relocating you to the pen. "I've actually got to run my own company for a bit, and the others are busy, so you get to hang out with me today."

Bruce rested his arm on his desk, then his chin in his hand, and stared down at you. You were staring intently back at him, the binky bopping up and down as you suckled on it.

"You're a little young to learn the ropes, but I'll explain what I'm doing anyway. Every baby book I've looked at tells me you get something out of it even if you don't understand what I'm saying, so today it's time to do payroll. I'd make you sign an NDA, because you're about to see a lot of personal files, but you don't know how to hold a pencil, read, write, or speak yet, so I think we're fine."

Bruce had two monitors on his desk. He duplicated his screen and spun the other one around so you could watch what he was doing in real time.

"I don't like to delegate this task to other people because the last six times I did, they were eventually found embezzling money. Unfortunately, that tends to happen when you live in Gotham. Right now I've opened the pay software — it's this icon here, where the mouse is circling — and I'm going to ask it to open the time sheets for the last two weeks..."

---

A NEW FAMILY MEMBER? BRUCE WAYNE SPOTTED IN WAYNE TOWER WITH INFANT, SPECULATION GROWING

CEO of Wayne Enterprises Bruce Wayne seen with a baby after exiting his office this afternoon!

[An image of you in your Nightwing onesie, tucked securely in a smiling Bruce's arms as he walks out of an elevator, is printed on the front page of the Gotham Gazette.]

Sources say Wayne filed another adoption form with the courts a week ago and is being met with mixed reviews. Large portions of the public are joking that Wayne has an "adoption problem" while others speculate he is too inexperienced to foster an infant.

"Wasn't his youngest kid, like, 9 when he adopted him?" Asks one Carmine Falconi, recently released from Blackgate on good behavior. "None o' my business, of course, but I don't think he knows how to raise a tiny tot like that. My guys ain't touchin' a hair on that one's head, though. Kidnapping the odd teen or two, sure, go nuts, but even us crooks got codes, and that one's off-limits in my book."

Wayne declined to comment when the Gotham Gazette reached out and remaining family have further refused interviews about the subject.

(Alfred got to the phone first.)

---

The newspaper clipping was already framed and proudly sitting on the dining room table when Bruce woke up the next morning and shuffled downstairs for breakfast with you in his arms. He spared it a tired glance, put you in your high chair, and relented to Damian's insistent shoving so the boy could sit next to and feed you (he got to the pantry first).

"The next time you plan on actually doing your day job," the boy hissed, "bring one of us with you. There was an abysmal amount of security protocols you ignored when leaving work to allow paparazzi the chance to grab photos. I won't let your frivolous behavior cause them harm."

"Are you volunteering?" Bruce asked, gratefully accepting the mug of coffee Alfred handed over. He quietly greeted Dick and Jason as they filed into the room and had a quick rock-paper-scissors match to see who got to sit on your other side. Jason won. "Any networking events I have to attend, you almost always find a way to weasel out of."

"If it will keep our new charge safe," Damian huffed, "I can handle a few stupid luncheons."

"That's not a pass to skip school. If it's between a social or a class, you're going to class."

Damian looked simultaneously pissed and relieved. His fist clenched tightly around the small, silicone spoon, before he forced himself to relax and continue feeding you. You opened your mouth obediently for another offering of mushed-up bananas, apples, and cinnamon baby food from a high quality brand, giving a happy hum.

"Then the duty falls to one of you fools," he snapped at Jason and Dick, "which is akin to trusting a mosquito not to drink from you at the first possible opportunity. You'll pick up the slack when I'm otherwise indisposed."

"No can do, baby bat," Dick said, pouring himself a bowl of cereal and scrolling through his phone. He quickly snapped a picture of you with your mouth open to accept another spoonful of food. "I have a day job, too. I don't even live here. I'm just on an extended vacation until the end of next week, then it's back to Blüdhaven."

Damian focused his glare on Jason next, who smirked back and shook his head.

"Legally dead. So, 'less you want Brucie Wayne and an innocent baby seen all around town with Red Hood, the crime lord, it's a no from me."

Damian weighed the pros and cons. Bruce shot him a look and shook his head, dismissing the idea entirely.

The boy grit his teeth. He scraped the last of the baby food from its jar and fed it to you, then delicately wiped the remnants from your mouth. You gummed at his finger and made grabby hands, indicating your desire to get out of the high chair. Jason scooped you up first with a swift call of "dibs!", carrying you away to get bathed and dressed for the day.

"Then...then you have to go into work with Timothy!" Damian demanded, facing Bruce again, who had finished his coffee by now and was eating a slice of buttered toast. The man raised a brow, looking only marginally more awake than he was at the start of the day.

"Tim hates being at the office with me," Bruce explained as Alfred came around to set a plate of pancakes, eggs, and freshly-squeezed orange juice in front of Damian. "Says the Brucie act is annoying to be around and it drives productivity down at least 8% every time. It's a lie, I've checked the numbers, but if he doesn't want to be at the Tower at the same time as me then I'm not going to push a non-issue."

"You?" said Damian, incredulous. "You aren't going to push a non-issue? You push everything. It may as well be your middle name."

He cut into his food with more force than necessary, cutlery scraping unpleasantly against the plate until he lifted his hands again. He shrugged off the hand Bruce tried to place on his shoulder, chewing angrily on a mouthful of pancake.

"I'm open to ideas, son," the man said, "but here are the facts: You have to go to school Monday through Friday. I won't let you homeschool because you need to socialize with people in your age group. Jason isn't interested in declaring himself alive right now. Dick doesn't live at the Manor full time and has separate responsibilities. Tim is juggling college, Wayne Enterprises, and patrols. Alfred is too ol— is aging gracefully, and might prefer to have more time to himself instead of watching the baby all alone for hours on end."

Alfred took Bruce's empty plate away with a very sharp look, then excused himself back to the kitchen.

Bruce turned in his chair to fully face Damian, who glared at his breakfast like it personally caused this mess, and not one hyper-empathetic man and his bleeding heart for orphans.

"Now, can you tell me how best to solve this problem without the occasional "take your kid to work day," or enrolling the baby in a daycare program?"

Yes, he could. But unfortunately for Damian, he had inherited a bleeding heart of his own, which constricted at the thought of giving his little sibling back up for adoption. Instead, he swallowed his next mouthful of food and sighed.

"More research is needed," he mumbled, which was the closest he could ever get to admitting he didn't know something. "However, my complaints still stand. Let the paparazzi get a bad photo if it means keeping the babe safe. Their well-being is your top priority, so act like it."

"Heard," Bruce said, sounding far too fond for Damian's liking. "Finish your breakfast and then get ready for school."

The boy grumbled but complied, and soon stood next to the door waiting for Alfred to pull a car up to the driveway. He watched Bruce carry you in his arms after he slung the duffel bag with your essentials over his shoulder, tugging the small hood of your red oneside up (Jason dressed you first today) over your head to ensure you didn't get cold.

"Have a good day, Damian," Bruce told him.

"Sure, whatever." Damian took you from his father and adjusted your hood himself. You grabbed his finger in your small fist with all the strength you could muster and tried to put it in your mouth. He gently pried it free, and Bruce popped a Batman binky in there instead. "You will be safe today. When I'm finished conforming to what American society deems a proper education, I will retrieve you myself."

Your binky bopped up and down as you suckled on it, staring silently at Damian. It was practically a yes to him, so he took it.

Glancing briefly at his father, he hesitated a moment, then kissed your forehead and quickly passed you back to Bruce before heading outside to let Alfred drive him to school.

Bruce watched him go with an unreadable expression. He quickly turned and faced Dick once Damian was out of earshot.

"Did you —"

"I'm texting you the picture right now," Dick said, thumbs flying across the keyboard. "What should the caption be for my Twitter post? #BestBrotherEver or #SecretSofty?"

"Either way, he's going to kick your ass."

[webzazes]

making this danny phantom teehee ❤️

My family always seemed like the most normal people in the world. But, we're filthy rich. I'm not a fan of it, but it's whatever. At least I have funds for passion projects, and hopefully, in due time, my own greenhouse (I've wanted one for years).

I actually only learned what really made us so successful recently, though. Ever since I was young, I was told over and over again that it was due to an invention, something useful and prominent in everyday life. However, it turns out that we're so wealthy because of black magic.

The thought alone inspired me so much, and I was already into gothic and fantastical things- it practically tripled my obsession. My parents, however, thought I was "too obvious" or "too gloomy" for our happy little family, especially because of my style of dress, but I was dead-set on breaking away from the norm after I learned how, well, not normal we are under wraps.

This made me a loner at school. I was different, and I wasn't a fan of going out of my way for friendships, let alone any unnecessary social interaction. I kept to myself, and became "the weird goth girl". Honestly, I was happy with that.

But, being a loner led me to Danny. And, of course, his friend Tucker. They accepted me- although we did butt heads at times, as is natural. We'd go to Danny's house, hear about his parents' work, and especially, their obsession with ghosts.

As someone getting into the occult, (I was actively training myself with books from our family library) I was interested. Very interested. I knew about souls, zombies, and demons, but not so much about ghosts themselves, the physical representation of a consciousness and soul tied down to Earth.

So, when Danny brought us to his basement to show us the "ghost portal" his parents were working on, I was excited. Really excited. Of course, I didn't let that show, I figured it might be as dumb as all of the other Fenton tech, and I wasn't expecting it to be dangerous, either.

But, when Danny stepped in to try and turn it on, I realized it was, in fact, dangerous. Very much so. The sheer amount of force I felt when the portal opened was almost painful- but never could be as painful as the sight of what happened to Danny because of it. He looked almost burned in places, and practically wilted to the ground.

He was limp. And he didn't look right, either- his hair was a shocking, clear white, and his eyes were green. At the time, I didn't even notice that the protective suit he was wearing had changed. But I could 100 percent tell that he was dead. Stone cold and limp, dead.

Tucker looked to be on the verge of tears, but I didn't care. I had to do something! I could feel some kind of residual energy on Danny's body, and I thought, "a source". A source of power for me to use, something I could heal him with.

Healing was my passion. I've always cared for life. Especially in this instance- Danny wasn't allowed to die. He couldn't die. I don't know what I would've done if he did..

So, in a split second, I was by his side. I was full healer mode, to the point I knew I couldn't let Tucker see my face. If he saw my eyes, well, he certainly wouldn't have been able to forget them any time soon..

I grasped at the energy left on Danny, and I made it mine. My emotions made me strong, determined, and I used that energy to successfully make an offering to Danny's soul. It was like summoning a demon- I'd seen my mom do it before- but more intimate, as I touched his spirit, poured its power into his bloodstream, and pulled at it, as I tied it to his body. I could almost feel the ectoplasm in my hands- and that's when I realized what the residual energy really was. Ectoplasm.

The ghost portal was real.

All in all, the whole process of "fixing" Danny, well.. it felt like nothing. And it really was quick. Thankfully, once I told Tucker that Danny was breathing, he didn't think to question the wait. He said nothing. And I couldn't bring myself to say that Danny was still cold..

So, hurriedly, we took Danny to his room, and told his parents he was tired. We said that he fell asleep while playing games with us. That was it.

That is how it all started.

You always wanted to be a Healer. Unfortunately, your dad was an Necromancer and your mother a Demon Summoner. So your healing was a bit… unconventional to say the least.

[ventique18]

🐉🌸, two very close friends, are looking for a place to stay at after having gone out on an impromptu trip that day.

When they enter an inn, they're greeted by a bartender polishing glass; very much looking the part of a mysterious character in a high fantasy story.

🍺: "Welcome."

🌸: "Can we book two rooms here?"

🍺: "Two rooms? Ah, but we only have one available."

🌸: "Well then. I guess we'll just go somewhere else--"

🍺: "Wait right there. Have you taken a close look at this area? This is the only reputable inn there is, and most others would have robbed you of even your underwear by the time you wake up."

🐉: "If anyone dares to rob me, and touch 🌸's underwear, then they will understand how it feels to be robbed of their very lives."

🍺: "No need to be so morbid. Anyway. The point is, have you seen how shabby this area is? Would you want your little lover here to sleep in those dumpster inns?"

🌸: "We're not--"

🐉: "You make a fine point..."

🍺: "Then follow me--"

🐉: "But I respect my friend's right to privacy. We shall depart for a more proper area befitting the standard of comfort that my companion deserves."

🍺: "There's-- a curfew. Yes. Around these parts. Yes, that's right. You'll get arrested if you're seen loitering."

🌸: "I've never heard of a place with a curfew for adults."

🐉: "Now, now. We mustn't risk arrest. Then, won't you show us the way?"

🍺: "Very good! Ah, but since it's my policy to always look out for my clients' interests, I must be transparent with you. There's only one bed."

🌸: "Isn't this a cliché?! In real life?!"

🍺: "There's been a lot of tourists lately."

🐉: "Oh, but that mustn't be! An unmarried couple cannot be in the same bed."

🌸: "Haven't we watched movies on my bed a lot of times already..."

🐉: "Hanging out is one thing. Sleeping together is a different matter."

🍺: "It's really alright, this isn't the Renaissance era. And I trust you good folks wouldn't be doing anything odd even when the walls here are especially thick and soundproof and the bedframe is sturdy enough to withstand the might of a dragon--"

🐉: "No, no. If you provide me with blankets, perhaps even a chair, I'm positive I can make do--"

🍺: "God damn it just get on the damn bed already! I swear to the Seven if there wasn't a fortune in getting you clueless fucks to fuck I wouldn't be wiping your ass with this bullshit."

It turned out there was a bounty on the pair's heads. Not a target bounty, but a huge reward for whoever got to convince the two to couple up already.

Apparently it was sponsored by a very, very wealthy and very, very nosey grandmother.

[floraisunwell]

Promise | s.r

who? post-prison!reid x ex gf reader (she's a nurse)

category: angst (bold move ig)

summary: Spencer left you 5 months ago without a word for undisclosed reasons but he comes teary eyed to your door after seeing a girl that looks a little too much like you.

based on (very loosely lol): promise by laufey. the fic does not follow the events of the song at all but i love the "if it weren't for the sight of a boy who looked just like you standing out on Melrose avenue" part right at the end so it's all on that line.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: my first fic ahhhhhhh, i'm so nervous and happy rn, this is my baby and ik there's a lot of space for improvement but i'm proud of my writing, this comunnity is full of amazing people and if it wasn't such a lovely space i would have never posted this. shoutout to @lilacsandlavenderhaze for being the first to hear my idea and telling me i should go ahead and write it; @spencersbabymama for telling me to cut the bullshit and self deprecation and post this; and to @esote-rika for being my first readerrrr. love y'all <3

dividers by @aquazero

English is not my first language pls tell me about any spelling and grammatical mistakes. enjoyy!

The air was cold and crisp, a light drizzle could be felt dampening the streets – a scene typical for this time of the year in Washington. Spencer had gone out with the team to get some drinks after a hard but successful case, he was happy, of course, the fact that they had caught the killer pleased him but everything inside the building felt overwhelming: the voices, and the drunk conversations, all the limbs touching a little too much, the overly loud music. He was out of it and to be honest he had been out of it for quite some time now, actually some months, everyone noticed how the breakup made him feel.

Funny, because he was the one to leave.

After you came back from a long shift at the hospital excited to cuddle with the love of your life (or so you thought) but the only remnant of him you found was a sticky note placed on the cover of a book you were reading at the time:

"I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore"

That was all he said before destroying everything you two had built over 3 years, 3 years of love, pain, and learning, 3 years of giving everything for each other, destroyed in less than 24 hours like nothing.

He hadn't been the same for a long time, though—not since prison. You didn't blame him; you tried to understand him, give him space, time, and everything one could need to heal. He was not the same, of course. You weren't expecting the same Spencer to come back, sure, but you also were not expecting whoever he had become: some cold and distant version of the person you used to know.

Your relationship with Spencer is divided into two eras: Before Millburn and After Millburn.

Before Millburn, you guys were somewhat happy. Both of you were overworked and stressed but happy. You would tell him about your work, and he would tell you about his. In the rare times, he got a day off work, he would hug you whenever he could, like he was making sure you wouldn't slip away.

After Millburn, you didn't talk much, not unless it was necessary, he didn't hug you a lot anymore, in fact, the last time he hugged you was when you went to pick him up at the correctional facility, all the emotions running high, you remember thinking he looked and smelled different, you didn't know he would be so different when you wrapped him in your arms, placed a kiss on his shoulder and whispered that everything would be fine. But everything was not fine. It was all so not fine and everyone around you two could tell. Yet you could have never imagined that Spencer, the man who made the hopeless romantic in you thrive would leave in such a disheartening way.

Back at O’Keeffe’s, the team was still at it. The count of how many rounds of drinks Rossi had paid long lost, Emily and JJ leaning suspiciously close to each other, Rossi nursing some unnecessarily extravagant drink, Garcia and Morgan somewhere on the dance floor and Hotch nowhere to be seen. Spencer had gone outside, hoping the sensory overload would ease with the fresh air, it did slightly but the agglomerate of people was no better than the one inside, so many people, reeking of alcohol, walking like zombies, and saying nonsensical things. As he was standing near the entrance, hands stuffed into his pockets, the soft rain dampening his hair, Spencer let his mind wander and it ended up where it always does: him contemplating if leaving was the right decision.

He was so deep in this thought that didn't even notice the man approaching until it happened- a hard shoulder bump that took him away from his thoughts.

"Sorry dude" the man muttered not even caring to glance back as he moved past. Spencer blinked, shocked as he watched the man move swiftly toward a small group of people nearby. A group that included you.

His heart jumped to his mouth. No - not you. But she looked like you, uncannily so. She even acted like you, the way she threw her back when she laughed or how she scrunched her nose in an attempt to put her sliding glasses in place - he could've sworn it was you.

For a fraction of a minute, he actually thought it was you. His breath caught in his throat and he took a step forward before reality sank in and he retreated. It wasn't you; it was never you.

But as he watched her wrapping her arms around the man's neck, as his hands almost automatically moved to her waist, and they both smiled like idiots in love. He couldn't help but feel like he had been stabbed and the knife was being twisted inside him. Was this some type of fucked up joke by the universe? "This could be you, bad thing you lost her" The thing is, he didn't lose you- he gave up on you which was worse because maybe if he had stayed, and tried a little harder, you would still be together.

He staggered back a few steps, and if he hadn't reached the wall, he would've fallen considering he already felt his knees buckle as all the bottled-up emotions from the past five months came crashing onto him; he was overwhelmed by his own feelings, eyes blurry with tears as a lump formed in his throat and the weight on his chest got heavier.

Blindly, almost unconsciously, he reached for his phone in the inside pocket of his jacket. His thumb hovered above your name in the contacts list. The message he typed was brief:

"Are you home?"

He didn't get a reply, he wasn't waiting for one. The moment he hit send his legs were already moving, practically running towards the street to hail a cab. He gave the driver your address, and it came out of his mouth easily, as if he had never stopped saying it.

You were in the shower when his message came through, you didn't pay the loud notification much attention, not even caring to glance at the device when you heard the familiar ding. You prioritized the small occasions you got to take care of yourself when your job is to take care of others.

Now freshly showered and in the kitchen making tea- the next step on your little routine- you hear a knock on the door, a distinct knock, a knock you could never forget, not even a billion years from now. Your heart stopped for a moment, heartbeat pounding in your ears, you didn't quite register you were moving towards the door until it was open and he was standing there, his brown eyes open wide once he registered your presence, reacting as though you opening the door was the last thing he expected. You just stood there for a few seconds, staring at each other until Spencer wrapped you in his arms like he used to, his nostrils flooding with the smell of your shampoo and body wash, smells he recognized all too well, smells that felt like home.

You pushed him away, shattering the brief feeling of happiness he had started to feel.

"What are you doing here?" You asked almost a little too loud in an attempt to hide the hurt in your voice

"I miss you" he replied eyes searching for yours.

You stood there, arms folded, trying to hide how weak those words made you feel. He had no right to miss you, not after leaving the way he did.

Why should I care? You thought to yourself. He made it clear that he didn’t care about you, but you cared, you cared so deeply that it made your heart ache.

You were not going to let him in.

"You can't just stop talking to me and then come here like nothing happened, Spence." You couldn't help using the nickname, your voice falsely steady, trying to hide the pain.

"I know, I just-can I come in?" No reply "Please"

You hesitated, gripping the door handle tighter as a tornado of emotions swirled on your chest. Anger. Hurt. Loneliness. You wanted to slam the door in his face, make him feel a small fraction of what you felt over the past 5 months. But buried beneath all these harsh feelings, there was something softer, something you felt ashamed to acknowledge: the echo of all the nights you stayed up worrying about him and what could happen in his work, all the mornings you woke up without the smell of coffee lingering through the apartment.

You let him in.

You tried to convince yourself that letting him in was about answers- you deserved an explanation, some sort of closure at least. But as you stepped aside and watched him walk past you knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

Because no matter how much he’d hurt you, part of you still longed for the man he used to be.

“This doesn’t change anything.” You muttered, as much to yourself as to him. He gave a slight nod in reply, eyes watering. Damn him and his big brown eyes.

 As you were turning around after closing the door behind you, he captured you in a hug again and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around him too.

★

Somehow, he ended up asleep in your bed and as you gaze at his peaceful resting face, your mind tells you to wake him up, tell him to go home and never come back, tell him that he doesn't get to leave and reappear whenever it suits him, tell him that he can fuck off for breaking your heart like that. Yet, you don't do any of that, because your heart tells you not to.

tysm for reading, likes and reblogs are always deeply appreciated

@angellic4l it's finally here bestieee!

[cupcakedieabetes]

Yeah, that's what I thought. It's all his survival that his mindset is that everyone is still strictly fictional that he ends up disregarding most of them. "Everyone is still book characters including him" is still his mindset.

But he doesn't really think that he's a canon fodder. Imo, he thinks his role as SQQ is a canon fodder.

I meant SY disregards GYX's death is that other than that, there's no actual mentions of GYX anymore bc he ends up so hyperfocused on his survival after bc of TLJ, ZZL, and LBH, that his existence just got erased. He treated GYX exactly like a canon fodder, 'Death that you'll get outraged at first, but soon get over it'

I remember this part exactly bc I was ranting to my mom (she reads it) about it like "Huh??? Did they just kill him off and he's never mentioned again?? Why did they have to kill him off like that?"

Also, the part where SQH says that they've changed, like, wouldn't students change a bit if your teacher (who is incredibly strict and does corporal punishment on you harshly) changed? This is an era where corporal punishment still exists, but bc LBH is the protag, of course he needs more extra.

I've always thought that bc there's little to no pressure on them anymore, there's no point in being little villain canon fodders anymore.

I mean, I was the same before bc during elementary school, I hated everything and was bitter and stuff bc the teachers full on had favouritism that they hated other students other than them. They say right to the student's face on how stupid we were. They often smack us, too.

Then, the students, there were groupie bullies everywhere, they would steal and beat up each other. I mean, we were 10 ish and violent bc the teachers don't give a shit about us. And bc it was a school from kindergarten to high school, there were some high schoolers beating elementary students too.

But I moved school, and the teachers were nicer, and thus the students were a lot calmer. I still didn't learn shit at all in this school so I got tutoring, but I was calmer.

I guess experience just makes me think differently about that part. They're not on guard anymore so they're not "bitter and full of resentment"

Edit: I reread that part, and it seems that "the flock of disciples" are just NYY, MF and LBH. Does he only have 3 of those disciples?

Its mentioned that they have disciple brothers, but they're once more vague bc they're a bunch of canon fodders

More edit: It wasn't bc the teachers were nice. Im saying that they were nicer in a sense that they don't hit students or call us stupid. They're nicer in a sense that they left us alone.

LBH being a scapegoat in SV is bc all the disciples are directing the punishment on him bc they don't want to be hit instead, which is common back in my school too. Direct the punishment onto someone else that the teacher doesn't like already in the first place.

Once SQQ stops hating, there wasn't any point in directing those punishment onto LBH bc there's no punishment at all anymore and they're all left alone.

They're left alone, and they don't have to fear any punishments at all. Their guards are down.

And to the sense that they'd defend him, of course they'd defend him. He's not that SQQ and changed. He's a nicer version of SQQ after all.

And to say that SY thinks of himself as SQQ. Yeah, that's bc he has to live an entire different life as him. He has to be SQQ or be punished by his system. But he also often curses SQQ as being an abuser and a lecher, completely separating them, until after the revelation. This dude absolutely has to be SQQ even if he isn't SQQ. It's all assimilated acting. You cannot get out of the role no matter how much you do.

He could at least break out of the OOC function, letting SQQ be more of himself, but it still isn't himself at all. He still has to act as SQQ to the expectation of others.

The only time he isn't SQQ is when he's Peerless Cucumber and you could see him going back to the SQQ act in front of others except SQH.

So yeah, that's what I meant as SQQ is a role and not himself.

Love that shen yuan is such a beloved and caring adult figure for the Qing Jing kids, Wei wuxian sacrificed so much to give Wen Yuan some semblance of a childhood, then you have xie lian who's like oh fuck right the kid. The ghost kid im taking care of. Forgot about that we should find him

[caterkinnie]

I saw that your askbox was open. If i may, can you write a continuation of this ( Reader who cannot lie is put in an awkward situation...) with the rest of the dormleaders. It's so cute kasi eh. Also, can you include Rook, Sebek, and Jade in the place of Idia, Azul and Vil. Thx

Reader who cannot lie is put in an awkward situation...

❥ ⌗ Characters: Rook Hunt, Sebek Zigvolt, Jade Leech.

❥ ⌗ Tags: not really proofread. rook being silly. sebek being sebek. jade being cute<3

❥ ⌗ a/n: hiiiiii i started this blog when i was 15 and now im 18. crazy right???? happy new year!!!! sorry if its a bit awkward. its been a LONG time since I wrote for these characters.... tysm for your request!

Oh, it's Rook's fault this happened and he knows it.

You two were just having fun, he invited you to the forest just to walk around and relax. It was the sort of activity he'd love doing with you.

The two of you were completely alone, Rook loved to show you around his favorite hidden places, places that you imagine no one has seen before other than him….

And he was happy to do so, it was something you've done millions of times with him.

imagined he was hiding something, as his smile was a little bit too wide, his eyes were a little bit too mischievous. You knew when he was planning to mess up with you.

You were not expecting him to ask if you had a crush on anyone though.

“Eh?! What… Yes you do know him but…. ahh!! Yes, he's blond, why do you ask????”

He was giggling as he asked question after question…

What's his eye color? In what club is he? Is he from Pomefiore? How good is he as a hunter.

“Ah~ Mon cheri, don't get mad at me. I fear I know how you must be talking about… although, I imagine the feelings are reciprocated… Oh, such a beautiful expression you have!”

He has way too much fun with your quirk.

In this case, it wasn't directly to Sebek…

Lilia Vanrouge was extremely curious about you, as Sebek had never shown any interest in friendships with anyone. Let alone spending the amount of time he does with you, and even hesitating when he has to choose between aiding Malleus and having fun with you!

No one else had that effect on him, and you deep down knew it but… as a human, would he ever like you back? Would he feel ashamed to love you? Those questions plagued your mind, and stopped you from pursuing the kind hearted fae…

“What? If I like him…? ah… well… he's really sweet and- and…. Ah!!! Maybe a tiny bit but don't tell him!”

“AH?!?!?!”

And then you heard a loud scream of confusion from outside the door.

One you unfortunately recognized instantly.

Lilia chuckled as the door was bursted open, and Sebek was in front of you, his face was red… he wanted to say something… but something weird happened… He was at a loss for words!

You tried to explain yourself but…

“FOOLISH HUMAN! It's- it's bad manners to speak of someone behind their back! If….. If you wished to… If you wished to talk about those feelings, you must have told me directly, IF NOT THEN HOW COULD I PROPERLY COURT YOU?”

You were trying to impress Jade, but maybe you should have gone with a letter or some kind of book about fungi…

You've never cooked octopus before, and the cooking book wasn't helping at all either!

It seemed easy in theory… but you've tried it a million times and it still is not something you'd want to give to him!

He has really exquisite tastes! And if you mess it up maybe you'll mess this chance with him…

Or maybe you're overthinking.

Right as you were tried to finish the dish (which you were unsatisfied with the presentation and overall taste) you heard a chuckle from behind you.

“My, my… Are my eyes seeing this correctly? Who are you making this for?”

“...Of course it's for you.” No, dang it!

“And why, may I ask? what's the occasion?” His voice had a confused pitch, but his smirk gave it away. He was extremely amused by your attempts.

“....I though… maybe I could gift you this and then ask you out on a date….” No!! Why did you say that????

“...Fuhuhu… You're overcomplicating it… Maybe next time we can try to do it together? I can give you a few tips as well…. since it seems you've been trying for a few days, that is…”

He knew all of this time?!

Wait, is that a date?!

Reblogs are appreciated!

[rie-092]

idk what is this but listen—

just imagine ijekiel alpheus, now the head of alpheus dukedom. saw a child, which is you, on the streets. even though he claimed that he already moved on from the princess, now the empress of the empire, there is still this part of him that doesn't.

so, you who had no relationship with the imperial family and your family died because of an accident back then. for some reasons, you had the same eyes as athanasia. and your hair color was similar with ijekiel. so, what did he do? he adopted you as his child!

honestly, ijekiel alpheus was a great dad. this dude has no plan on marrying anyone. and his vassals and lucas and athanasia was practically never stop on telling him to get married. i mean, athanasia was telling that because he doesn't want ijekiel to be alone. while lucas, this little shit, just want to mess up with him and ruin his day. while his vassals just wanted a heir for the alpheus dukedom.

so, why not bring a child from the streets? look, his intentions was clear. he wanted to help you. but the people who saw you with ijekiel thought you were his secret love child or smth like that. like the good ol' manhwa plot, ofc, they spread rumors that the top husband material in the empire wasn't as clean as they expected. does ijekiel cares? ofc, no. this guy was too busy to spoil the hell outta you to make your heart open up to him. i mean, he's your father from now on, so it's normal for a father to spoil his child, right?

but honestly, here's this shitty side of ijekiel that he hides from everyone. this shitty delusional side of him that imagined you as his and athanasia's child. and this side of him became more worse when he brought you with him to the palace. and athanasia, unaware of your jeweled blue eyes behind the contact lenses that you were wearing. thinks that you were really so adorable. so she too, started to spoil you like you were her own child. how adorable, you're like mother and child— of course he was the father— wait, no.

ijekiel always tries his best to calm himself down whenever he sees the sight of you with athanasia. no, this is not right. the empress was already married to that shitty tower master, this is wrong. he should just focus to you— but...

you see, ijekiel never let you meet lucas. even though that guy was practically saying that— "how cold whitey's boy, you're acting like we're not close friends!" when the truth is they are never friends in the first place. besides, he already got athanasia— that's why he will never, as in never give you to him.

but ijekiel was the kind and understanding one. that's why, when you told him you wanted to learn magic. he supported you, he bought you books about magic, he even goes far on asking lucas for help. but you see— ijekiel too can lose his temper.

“ijekiel, where the hell is ( name )?"

that was the first thing that lucas asked as he left your room where he teleported. ijekiel nonchalantly said that you were at his family's villa, after you threw up blood last night because of using too much magic. but boy, lucas was more perceptive than he thought. saying that he should stop spouting bullshits. but ijekiel didn't say anything.

ijekiel was kind— but the truth is he was beginning to lose his mind. he hated the way how you look at lucas the same way you look at him. he hates the way how you and lucas looks more father and child than you and him. he hates the way how you seemed to like lucas praises than his. and the thin thread that left on his patience snapped when you told him how much you idolized lucas.

ahh, that night when he visited you on your new room in the manor. where he put your beloved toys and books, but put a mana restricting chain on your wrists. he couldn't help but to smile. now, it'll be only you and him.

ijekiel was kind, but when someone is threatening his child. he has no choice but to do this, right?

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

notes: idk, but I'm really tempted to make unhinged versions of every green flag manhwa men. anyway, happy 2k followerssss! I'm planning on doing an event to celebrate this, and then i'm going to do the 100+ requests in my inbox. ♪⁠┌⁠|⁠∵⁠|⁠┘⁠♪

pls bear with my laziness (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

[11luckyst4r]

☆3 MONTHS☆

- you decided to swear off sex for 3 months to prove your friend wrong. How hard can it be, right? You wouldn't ever dream of sleeping with your new roommate, satoru gojo, yet she thinks you can't do it.

content: dirty talk, petnames (sweets, princess etc) ,degradation (slut etc),unprotected sex ,creampie, uhhh what else, reader is kind of a slut.(real shit) smut with sprinkles of a plot. Reader is stubborn (me) idk what else

first fic kinda nervous

You wondered how you ended up in this predicament. You didn't plan on swearing off sex for 3 months. But your best friend joked you'd end up fucking your roommate Satoru Gojo. He wasn't even your type. " Gojo is a cocky know-it all and I wouldn't sleep with him" Your friend cackled " Babes i love you but you tend to think with your dick when you're horny."

You were utterly shocked at that. While 7 did tend to sleep with guys and girls often, you wouldn't sleep with your roommate. Especially Gojo of all people, his friend Geto, though was another thing.

"University is the place for fun, besides I have to have fun now. When I go to med school it's books and studying and I won't have time for fun." You said matter of factly. That's when you made the personal promise to be celibate for 3 months to prove your best friend wrong. What you didn't count on , was how pent up you'd become.

3 weeks in you felt fine, but you noticed gojo staring at your chest all too often. That was after he walked in on you in the bathroom. Without a top on. Shaving your armpits in the sink. You thought that gave him the ick.

4 weeks in you were in denial that you were fine. And you noticed Gojo brushing your arm here and there. Sometimes he'd come up behind you to help you get your favourite mug from the top shelf. You swore that you left it on the bottom shelf.

6 weeks in , your toys became your best friends. " It's just as good as the real thing" You told your best friend while she shook her head. You aslo noticed Gojo walking around shirtless more often too. He was the definition of a sleeper build. And sometimes you'd have to stop yourself staring.

Week 8 you lost feeling in your 4th eye, you couldn't taste in your ear anymore and your eyed could feel colour's.

You lost count around week 9. Now you were beginning to lose it. You couldn't focus in class anymore, your mind would go to the most dirty scenarios regarding some of your fine professors. You also became noticeably irritable.

"fuck" You muttered to yourself, you gave yourself another miserable orgasm. Which was weird since normally you were quite good at it. You left your room to go make yourself some tea. "stupid celibacy pledge." You grumbled to yourself while making tea. Gojo sat on the couch watching some stupid movie with a stupid plot. "You okay, you seem irritated lately?" He asked.

" I'm fine" , you sighed " just stressed out with schoolwork"

"Oh?" You could feel him staring into your back so you turned to face him. His eyes immediately went down.

" You know Gojo this staring at my boobs thing is getting really old"

"I'm not staring" he said while not breaking boob eye contact.

You scoffed and turned your focus back on your tea. You heard his foot steps come up behind you. " You know if you're stressed with schoolwork I could uh... help you with that." You turned to face him. Except you had to look up at him.

" Stop being coy"

He leaned down to whisper in your ear and placed his hand on your waist. You swore your pussy started throbbing." You're looking at me like you're begging me to bend you over the kitchen counter and I'm the only one being coy?"

You so badly wanted him to continue speaking to you like that, but you were stubborn. So you turned your back to him, brushing your ass against his dick unnecessarily. That just egged him on, and he continued whispering downright dirty things in your ear. "See, now I have an idea of what you're like," he whispered while tracing circles on your waist. You tried to distract yourself by stiring your tea. "Oh? You think about me im so touched. " " Touched is what you'll be if you keep grinding your ass on my dick sweets"

You stopped, and his hands dropped lower to your hips. You hadn't even realised what you were doing. You felt yourself getting hotter and wetter. " Anyways, princess there are a long list of things I'd like to do to you". You were getting weak , you were only a girl and you had needs.

"Like what" You replied breathlessly

" You pressed up against the wall, leg on my shoulder and thighs squeezing my head."

He kept his one hand on your hip keeping you steady while the other trailed up to your boob. He began playing with your nipple and you thanked God you didn't wear a bra that day.

You couldn't keep your head on straight anymore and you moaned softly.

"You like that you slut" You could feel him smiling against your neck and you could only moan in response. Gojo began kissing your neck softly while you started grinding against his hardening dick.

"Gojo" You moaned softly

"No, use my name, else I won't touch you," He said playfully. However, you were too horny to be defiant, so you used his name.

"That's my girl"

His hand moved down to your shorts, went under and he started playing with your pussy over your underwear. The sensations were too much, but not enough at the same. You needed proper stimulation. You were getting so wet yet were so deprived.

"Satoru, please touch me properly"

"Where? Be specific, princess. "

You were desperate at this point, and the games weren't fun anymore. "Oh my God, you're not stupid. Put your long ass fingers to good use and finger me."

" Well, if you speak to me like that, you can finger yourself then." That's when you grabbed his hand and shoved it in your underwear. Satoru was shocked he didn't think you'd take control even if it was a tiny bit , but he liked it. His fingers were long, and he knew how to use them. He curled them in all the right spots. "Fuckk," you moaned. " You're a loud one, I wonder what sounds will come out of you when my dicks inside you" You could only grind against his fingers in response. His free hand roamed over your body. He played with your boob and squeezed your thighs all the while he nibbled your neck. You could feel how hard he was against your ass . You took his hand out of your shorts and turned around, pushing him towards the couch. Satoru only smirked in response. " Wowww you like taking control, huh? " He laid back against the couch. " Well, yeah, since you seem to be going to slow. Take off your pants." You first removed your shorts, shirt and then climbed into his lap after he took off his sweats. "Seriously blue, the same colour as your eyes?" You muttered while climbing into his lap. You didn't give him a chance to respond because he started kissing him and grinding on him. This time, you made him moan. You placed his hands on your hips and then held his face. "You know Satoru you're gonna need to be more dominant if i decide to fuck you again" You whispered into his ear. You heard him mutter shut up before grabbing your face to make out with you. You didn't expect him to be such a sloppy kisser. But he was. You tangled your hands in his hair while moaning into the kiss. You felt his hand squeeze your ass then move to your hips. You silently thanked God once again that you wore your cute lacy thong instead of grandma panties. Then you silently cursed when you felt him rip them off. " You ass those were my favourites." You wanted me to be more dominant." he smiled while moving you under him. He took off his own underwear and stroked himself. You looked at his dick. He was long like his fingers.

You wished that you were about to have your world rocked, and boy, that wish come true. Judging a book by its cover you assumed Satoru Gojo didn't know how to fuck. You thought he'd be a lot like those guys who said they knew how to please a woman but learned everything they knew from porn stars and their clueless guy friends. You were wrong. Satoru gojo knew how to fuck.

He had your legs over his hips and pinned your hands above your head. He left bruising kisses all over your chest and neck. He paid careful attention to your boobs, sucking each nipple with care. And his thrust? His stamina was insane for such a skinny guy. You were sure the neighbours would know his name from how loud you were moaning his name. "Ahhh, right there, yes there." You moaned. " Fuck you feel so fucking good." " Fuckk I swear this pussy was made for me you're such a good slut" He babbled on and on. You felt that familiar feeling building up inside. And he felt it too with how your walls began to clench him. " Cum for me , cum on my dick like a good slut" he moaned. He left more bruising kisses on your tits before shoving his tongue in your mouth once more. His hand trailed down to your clit where he rubbed circles on them. That sent you over the edge. You felt your walls clench down and moaned so loudly it was closer to a scream. Satoru began thrusting faster, chasing his own high. "Where must I cum?" He asked " Inside" and that made him finish. He kissed you once again. "Well, we'll have to do that again" he said while moving to sit up on the couch. " So much for 3 months of celibacy ." you said aloud. He looked at you utterly confused. You sat up quickly. " You know, gojo, I thought I gave you the ick when you walked in on me shaving my armpit hair." He cocked his head and looked at you, "why the fuck would i be paying attention to your hair armpits when your boobs were right there" You laughed and swatted at him. Maybe living with him wouldn't be so bad.

a/n That took so fucking long. Endings kinda rushed. I'm sorry. I'm so tired. Idk how to end these appropriately anyways FIRST FIC DONE WOOHOO 🎉🎊 uhm please don't steal or copy thanks MWAH MWAH HOPE YOU ENJOYED MY SNOOKUMS.

[lesson-in-ruthlessness]

Ruthlessness Is Mercy — KOTLC fanfic

Description: Flashbacks throughout Grady's childhood. Grady and Vespera finally meet. Grady is pathetic and sexy while Vespera is evil and sexy. This will probably be a series if yall like it. Neverseen!Grady series.

————————————————————————————————

It's ok to feel… troubled when you manifest as a Mesmer. The mind is something greatly idolized, and manipulation of it is scrutinized.

Grady laid on his bed as he flipped through the pages of his new, Foxfire-issued textbook, dramatically sighing each time he flipped to a new page.

Lots of diagrams, he thought as he studied a diagram of an elven brain, this isn't freaky at all!

He closed the book and looked at the title, hoping it would change the outcome of the results.

A Beginner’s Guide to Being a Mesmer.

Instinctively, he turned the book over so he couldn't see the title, hoping it wasn't real.

Grady was still dealing with the uprooting of his entire life. Ever since he manifested, his family wouldn't talk to him and his Foxfire peers would look at him as if his entire existence was a taboo.

He knew they were right.

His ability to entrance then control the wills and minds of others wasn't banned outright, simply anyone with it was virtually a pariah.

As his thoughts stirred, he had no idea what that bubbling feeling in his chest was, as he began to choke on his tears; thinking about everything he was losing.

Once you learn how to manage this daunting power, it will be like you never manifested in the first place.

———

��Finally, I get to meet you in person. You're as…mesmerizing as they say.” A pale gray elf with very pointy ears emerged out of the shadows.

Grady shuddered at her voice. He didn't know who was addressing him, all he knew was that his mission was being compromised. “That’s a thinking cap, isn't it.” Grady said, pointing to the head dress the elf was wearing. “It’s why I can't sense your mind.” He laughed starkly. “That is, unless I've officially lost it.”

“You’re rather clever, however not clever enough to know this is not a hallucination.” The elf said, appearing on the other side of the room.

“Two questions. How do you know who…and I'm assuming what, I am? What do you want?”

“There’s only so many Mesmers on the Nobility. Isn't it unfair?” She smiled a cold smile, “as for the second question, you'll just have to find out.”

“Once I figure out who…and where you are… I'm going to rip that thinking cap off your head. Then we'll see who's laughing.”

“You’re rather bold for someone who just started his job as an Emissary.”

“I've been here for a decade, miss whoever you are,” Grady said, observing the walls.

Mirrors, he thought.

“A decade is a rather short amount of time, especially for an elf.” She smiled, her image shifting to another mirror.

“You’re an Ancient, aren't you?” Grady looked around for a way out. “I’m asking one more time, what do you want?”

“Your help.”

—-------

“This is in no way a bad idea,” Grady whispered to himself as he stood on the Bramble field. “Get in their heads, get the ball. Like you have before. Two people is nothing.” He said that last part again, as if he was trying to convince himself of it. Then, he exhaled and said “game on.”

A whistle blew and Grady took off running towards the opposing team's bases.

Bramble was the one place in school where he wasn't an outcast. In fact, he was the opposite. Due to his ability and Bramble allowing abilities, he was the star player on the Foxfire Bramble team. He knew that for the most part, he was seen more as an asset, but it felt good to have a community.

He spotted two people running towards his team's base and exhaled again. “Change of plans. Go for one. This could be…” he hesitated for a moment. “Fun.”

He closed his eyes and locked in on the mind of one of the people, a girl, feeling his energy coursing through hers. It was almost a calming feeling as he felt their energy become one. Then, felt his take over hers. He opened his eyes and saw her, feeling her attempts to move. He let out another sigh as he focused his energy on launching her towards the other person running. Watching intently and with a slight feeling of horror, he made her tackle the other elf.

Once he saw a few elves run to the tackled boy to help, Grady ran for the ball.

————

“You’re going to ask me for assistance and not even give me a name?” Grady asked through his laughter.

“Why do you need a name?” The Ancient asked. “It's not in any of your Elvin History books, rest assured.”

“I am assured,” he said, walking towards a mirrored wall. “Very assured.”

Grady drew back a fist and punched a mirror, the glass shattering into a seemingly infinite amount of pieces.

He did it again. And again. And again, until he was standing in a pool of shards. He looked at his fists, which were bloodied.

Most elves aren't used to the sight of blood, let alone their own. However, between his time playing bramble and the Council giving him more…unsettling missions, he had seen his own blood plenty of times.

He looked around again for the Ancient, but couldn't find her. Then, he picked up a glass shard and wielded it like a knife. “This is the last time I'm asking nicely. What do you want with me?”

“And what are you going to do about it? You're practically defenseless.” She laughed another bone-chilling laugh. “Anyways, I want your help to change the world as we know it.”

“Very funny. You cannot demand my help without even giving me an actual face.” Grady waved the makeshift knife around.

And then, she stepped out of the shadows. Then, Grady ran behind her and stuck the mirror shard to her throat. “One more word,” he said through gritted teeth, “and I’ll slash.”

“You wouldn't do that. At the end of the day, you're still an elf. You're fragile.” She grabbed the shard out of his hand with ease and pointed it back at him. “You, however, would be quite the interesting specimen to study.” She grabbed his hand and carved a line in the palm.

Grady winced but through the pain, grabbed another shard with his free, less bloody, hand. This time, instead of holding onto it, he threw it at the Ancient. It got caught in her cheek and she smiled. She took out the bloodied shard without even flinching. “It makes sense that one like you has the capacity to be so… ruthless.”

“What do you mean ‘one like you,’” Grady asked.

Deep down, he knew the answer. He knew it was because— as far as elves went— he was essentially hardened to violence. He was almost human in that aspect. While he burst into tears at the sight of an animal being hurt and rush to help, he's the only elf he knew that would scrape and bleed and even scar. He's the only elf he knew that didn't really care that he did, of course he'd stop by a Healing Center and patch up, but in the moment, he'd wince but there would be no shock.

He had a theory on why he was like that as well. It was because of his damned ability, it was an inherently violent one to him. Even as a kid, he held the belief he was dangerous. Therefore, he didn't really care about what happened to him, only the people he was close to; if he ever met someone he was close to.

Despite knowing the answer, the Ancient answered “your history, Grady. The Troll incident. The Bramble championships.” She wiped her cheek and showed him the blood. “You made and Ancient bleed. You're as ruthless as you are ostracized. With your help, we could reshape the world. A world where you won't be judged for something you couldn't control. A world without being viewed as evil for something you were burdened with. Not something you desired.” She offered out her hand for a shake.

He observed her hand, which was as gray as the rest of her skin. “Before I accept your generous offer, what's your name?”

“Vespera.”

Grady shook Vespera’s hand with his cut one.

————————————————————————————

taglist: @nowjumpinthewater @camelspit (this was YOUR idea) @crescentpaws (it evolved a bit since we last spoke)

[adnirod]

Book 2 for 2025 book bingo! For the "Published Before 1950" square (so many options! I love to read older books!) I selected the original "The Adventures of Pinocchio" (1883), translated by Carol Della Chiesa in 1926.

All I knew about this book was that it was different from the Disney movie, and that instead of the wise and friendly Jiminy Cricket as Pinocchio's conscience, there's a talking cricket that tries to advise Pinocchio until Pinocchio smashes him to death with a hammer. (I think Stephen King mentioned this in something of his--maybe "Danse Macabre"?). So I wasn't really at risk of tonal whiplash.

As promised, this is a pretty dark story--Pinocchio is mostly a pure chaos agent, kind of like Curious George except with violence and death, plus always someone looking to trick/prey on/take advantage of you. The narrator delivers morals, but for most of the book they come across (to me, at least, in translation and from my different historical context) as brightly tongue-in-cheek, since once a moral gets set out, Pinocchio generally smashes right through it. He's not malicious per se, but he is entirely impulsive and only does what he wants to do, and then cries about it afterward in self-pity once he has Fucked Around And Found Out. Then he gets rescued somehow, and heads back into the FAFO cycle.

I enjoyed the Fox-and-Cat sections, because of the difference between what Pinocchio knows, how the narrator describes things, and what we as readers (if we can get the hang of unreliable narration) know. They're con artists, they have unacknowledged cover stories and nefarious plans, while Pinocchio (and the narrative) is taking them entirely at their word. I can't remember when I first learned to navigate narrative unreliability in my own childhood reading, but I definitely came to love that feeling.

The last section of the book feels different--the stated morals start feeling more serious, and Pinocchio starts doing kind and positive things without being forced to. That means the sense of humor changes too--it kind of filters away, as does the sharp irony and the layers of unreliability. And a few earlier events get softened--like, the Talking Cricket reappears toward the end of the book without any explanation, scolds Pinocchio for the hammer thing, delivers a sententious moral, and Pinocchio apologizes and agrees with him. Definitely different than the Pinocchio of the earlier sections. (Although interestingly, Pinocchio may have Plot Armor, but even once the book has gentled a bit, other characters still die--like, Lamp-Wick, someone who convinced Pinocchio to misbehave, doesn't get rescued from being turned into a donkey the way Pinocchio was rescued. He's bought and then worked to death, and dies in a sad on-page scene.)

I read more about the book afterward and found out it was originally a magazine serial, so it all makes perfect sense, the episodic nature and the tone change and whatnot. Wikipedia also said that the serial originally ended fairly early on, when Pinocchio is punished by being hanged by the neck from a tree and dies (whereas in the book he's hanged and almost dies but is rescued). (Man, my childhood books were never like this.)

It really benefited Collodi to start up again with a fixit, given how popular the happy-ending book version became all over the world. It's hard to imagine a dead-at-the-end version becoming as beloved in places like the U.S.--at least in my sense of children's literature at that time, it wouldn't have much room for such a pitch-black tone.

@batmanisagatewaydrug

[endiness]

it's not like henry cavill hasn't ever spoken out against his fans, either. he was perfectly capable of doing so when it came to defending his gf.

but yeah, meanwhile he somehow couldn't ever say anything against the racist, sexist, and homophobic attacks his co-workers were facing since the very beginning of the show that's only gotten increasingly worse as time has gone on? along with the general hatred and vitriol thrown at the show and everyone involved? (except for himself, of course.) which he absolutely contributed to and helped to embolden in the first place due to the pr campaign he ran in s2 to paint himself as this huge defender of the books and advocate for them while acting like lauren wasn't and all in order to cover up how he was the one actually responsible for a lot of the deviations to the books such as cutting geralt's lines and when the thing he was actually mad about was that the show was sticking to the source material by heavily revolving around women as women are very important in the books and help drive the plot forward in massive ways?

and it's not like he would've been unaware of the hatred and vitriol and toxicity taking place in the fandom, either, as by his own admission, he is in online spaces and forums and reading everyone's comments:

"I’m on all the Reddit forums. I’m reading all the reviews. I’m literally trying to get everyone’s information. Some of it is not useful, and other criticisms are incredibly useful. I take it all in, and I look forward to bringing it even closer and closer to Sapkowski’s writing. I think any of those criticisms, they often lie in things like I was saying—we don’t have the advantage of a long involved conversation or dialogue with Geralt, so they are criticisms which I think I was prepared for. So for me, it’s about seeing that, understanding it, and working out how I can do my job better within the framework provided, [how to] appease and make those people feel comfortable that I do actually understand this character—and love this character just as much as they do."

"As a source for information, it’s really helpful for me to see what everyone’s saying, what everyone’s thinking, and to see how much my thinking falls in line with whichever side of that spectrum it is and whether I’m doing the wrong thing, for example, by campaigning hard for the book Geralt to exist or whether I’m doing the right thing."

yet despite that, the thing that he wanted to address with the press and to the fanbase and what his main concern was *checks notes* pushing an image of himself as a defender of the books and geralt's characterization and male characters in general (as if women being prominent in the show somehow came at the expense of the men and as if the prominence of women somehow goes against the books when it's completely in line with them.) whilst virtually never taking any responsibility for how he's the one who fucked up geralt's characterization. (out of 50+ s2 interviews, cavill only admits to any culpability in geralt's mischaracterization in 3 out of those 50+ interviews — all of which happened during interviews or con panels that were over 5+ minutes long and/or took place in foreign press which are all less likely to be picked up and reported on by other news outlets and seen by the fandom.) lying the whole time about why he cut geralt's lines by trying to act like geralt was never originally written as being as verbose as he is in the books in the first place (we know via lauren that geralt was, in fact, written as being as verbose as he is in the books since the pilot episode), acting like he was somehow inspired by doug cockle's voice performance (he was cutting geralt's lines since the pilot episode and filming for the show started in late oct/early nov 2018 but he didn't start doing the "geralt voice" until jan 2019), blaming geralt's lack of dialogue on yennefer and ciri's prominence (yennefer and ciri's scenes were the ones that were cut in s1, btw), and acting like the lines he was cutting weren't really that important so it didn't really matter that he was cutting them anyway (we know via joey that he would often have to improvise and take henry's lines just in order to move the plot along.) and throwing lauren under the bus. (for something that he fucked up in the first place. and because he was mad that the show heavily focuses on women.)

so, like, yeah. i will assume the worst of cavill 'cause that's what i've been shown by him. 🤷‍♀️

I've been thinking about The Witcher books and tv show recently. Because half of the things that make Geralt seem cool and edgy in the show just don't exist in the books.

In the show he's always so stoic. Most of his exposition has to be told by side characters implying things and you just have to gage his reaction to decide if it's true or not. In the books however, he gives a full lore dump to anyone who's remotely nice to him.

Random Character: So how've you been?

Show Geralt: Hmmmm.... 😒 😔 😒...

Book Geralt: Terrible actually, thank you for asking. Monster hunting is dying out and I have zero transferable skills. Yennifer's left me again and Jaskier's off god knows where. Overall I suppose it could be worse, but that's the life or a Witcher. Also, my perfectly good leather jacket got ruined in a fight the day after I bought it :(

[danmeichael]

Can u talk about why JC is your fave

jiang cheng was not my favorite character for a long time. specifically, i actively disliked him when i first watched the donghua.

a turning point, funny enough, was actually the scene in the donghua where he chokes wwx. which i think says a lot about me... much like that scene says a lot about jc.

that was a scene that really humanized jc for me and showcased really clearly what he was in that moment. a lost child, a helpless child desperately vying for any amount of control through violence and lashing out at those around him because of it.

i like when characters do that -- when they hurt the people around them in moments of weakness without really meaning it.

you know when a character asks a loved one to run an errand for them, and something terrible happens while they're running that errand? maybe their loved one gets into a car accident and dies, for example. and instead of blaming the conditions on the road that caused that, the other driver in the accident, the hospital for not saving them, they think "if only i hadn't asked them to go out?"

it's because it's smaller. it's easier to conceptualize that blame, it's easier to grasp guilt or to place fault on a single, knowable entity.

reality isn't like that. there is no one singular point of fault. it's not their fault, not really. but a single point of failure is easier to conceptualize, to cope with, more satisfying in the moment than "sometimes things just happen"

jiang cheng doesn't hate wei wuxian, he isn't really mad at wei wuxian for saving lan wangji. or rather, he won't be when he's calm or in hindsight.

but he needs something manageable to be angry at. he needs something smaller, some neat, easy solution this all stems from that he could say "this wouldn't have happened, if--"

he doesn't really blame wwx. but in addition to... everything, wwx is also the one stopping him in that moment from doing the thing he could do to, his monkey brain thinks, exert control and make it hurt less.

this is wwx's fault. this is wwx's fault, because he saved lan wangji, because he wouldn't let him go back to try to save his parents, because he wouldn't let him try to get revenge. but it's not, really. and deep down, he knows that. he knows the wens would have come for them eventually whether wwx saved lwj or not. he knows he could not have saved his parents. he knows that he would have died trying to get revenge and left jyl and wwx alone. he knows there's nothing he, or wei wuxian could have done.

but being out of control while you're in pain is scary. so he lashes out. because he can control being mad. because he can hurt wei wuxian. because he needs something, anything in that moment to feel like he isn't spinning out and about to crash.

i think that violent ugliness in response to his own suffering is compelling.

that sort of added onto the endless "what if" pursuit common of fandom, after finishing the novel and finding that jc and wwx were still estranged. logically, that was the best possible ending. them suddenly getting along at the end of the book for a happy ending wouldn't have made sense for either of their characters. them making up in a way i found satisfying would have taken another 2 english volumes and circumstances i can't even imagine, and mxtx might not have even written it in a way that i found satisfying even under the theoretical that she did devote an entire additional novel to making it happen.

but that ambiguous, unwritten, theoretical making up that exists in my minds eye haunts me.

even after all that, i still didn't *like* jc. he was compelling, i appreciated him as a mechanism in the narrative, but he wasn't my blorbo. i didn't *like* him in the way i *like* other favorite characters.

no, no. the real catalyst is that nobody who dislikes jiang cheng dislikes him for the right reasons and it pissed me off so bad that i became protective over him.

there's plenty of good reasons to hate jiang cheng but you're just MAKING UP ONES that DO NOT EXIST and IGNORING ALL OF HIS INTERESTING CHARACTER WRITING.

what do you MEAN he doesn't love his brother?! what do you MEAN he only warmed to jyl's marriage because he came to see her as a political pawn and didn't actually love her either?! what do you MEAN he should have just been GRATEFUL that wwx surgically placed his entire fucking martyr complex into jc's body while ACTIVELY LYING TO HIM ABOUT IT?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S A MISOGYNIST? WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S *COLORIST*????? AM I FUCKING LOSING IT????????? DID I READ A DIFFERENT FUCKING BOOK??????????????

being so pissed off by incorrect analysis of his character made me think about him as a character, his nuances, his relationships with his family and his position of power.

there's no specific trait or scene or thing about him that makes him my favorite. he's just a good shape. he clicks into my brain in a good way.

[xavviluin05]

Cultsona: The Combat Lesson Episode

The former food wasn't particularly good at combat. But how could she lead a cult if she was one of the first to climb a tree? Well, it seemed that Narinder would have to handle this.

By that time, the cult had gradually started to gain popularity. Everyone longed to find themselves in a safe, cozy place, far from the oppression of the Four Bishops and their followers.

The Cultist, by then, had trained herself in magic and taught herself how not to drop her sword during swings.

On that particular day, she gathered with her followers and was reading passages from ancient books. But their peace was suddenly disrupted by the unexpected appearance of bandits, who had also heard rumors of the warm, inviting place that harbored ancient artifacts and other valuables.

The knife whistled right past the Cultist's ears, and the leader’s sly voice mockingly drawled: "Ah, another puppet of Narinder. How charming."

He had always watched with envy as the Bishops thrived, basked in adoration, and enjoyed the easy lives they led.

Such luxuries were never meant for him. He would have spent his entire existence as a ragged outcast and thief if not for the sudden downfall of Narinder. The first heir to the fallen Bishop’s power ignited a fire within him, pushing him toward new ambitions, all aimed at seizing the crown.

He rose in stature, though not in the way he had always dreamed. He and his band became a living nightmare for the locals. His pockets overflowed with gold, but the one prize he truly craved always slipped through his grasp.

Sometimes, years passed between different crown-bearers. During those quiet intervals, the leader and his gang led a relatively calm existence. But the moment a rumor of a new crown-holder reached his ears, he lost his composure, throwing himself into a frantic hunt for his ultimate goal.

And now, he was close again.

His soul exulted and burned with impatience, though outwardly, he remained as composed as ever. Looking at the frightened group and their pitiful leader, he smirked. Trying to act the gentleman (or so he thought), he made a slight bow and purred almost like a cat: "My darling, be so kind as to hand the crown over to the one who truly deserves it. Come now, don’t be shy—I don’t bite."

The leader had already experienced failure in his pursuit of the crown. Once, he killed its current bearer, only to watch the coveted prize vanish before his eyes. The wails and curses that echoed through the forest that day were unforgettable.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake again. He would have to take this little bunny along to ensure she didn’t die prematurely.

The thought of burdening himself with such cargo didn’t thrill him, but he found the price for power and greatness acceptable. And since he’d have to spend time with the rabbit, it wouldn’t hurt to try and endear her to him in his own way.

Though he considered himself a worthy beast, he remained a crude cutthroat who never even thought that perhaps he should’ve started the encounter without acts of violence.

...Meanwhile, his gang prowled the hall, scavenging for anything valuable. Judging by their satisfied grunts, there were indeed treasures to be found.

The leader had no idea that the moment his knife embedded itself dangerously close to the Cultist’s head, her spirit immediately fled the room.

Literally.

At that very moment, she was standing in the cloudy domain of Narinder, who was growing increasingly irate as he tried to figure out what was happening below. In his thoughts, he cursed those who had imprisoned him here once again.

The Cultist herself was horrified. She had almost died. Again. And this time, it would have been for good.

The thought of losing her second chance in such a pitiful manner left her shaking—not from fear, but from rage. In her mind, she was clawing at the face of the unexpected intruder. In reality, she could do nothing against him.

Narinder was deep in thought. Preoccupied, he nearly missed the moment when his servant narrowly avoided walking straight into death’s embrace.

The Cultist, however, suddenly realized that while she was here, her body below was entirely vulnerable. Who knew what might happen to it in her absence?

“Fool,” Narinder hissed. “You should know by now that time flows differently here. No one even noticed your departure. No one ever notices when you leave.”

Though Narinder was spewing venom, the Cultist was far from a fool.

Once the panic over her supposedly unconscious body stopped clouding her judgment, she realized she could turn Narinder’s prison’s peculiarities to her advantage.

Her jumps to Narinder’s realm were instantaneous, with no delay.

By making these rapid shifts, she could quickly check the situation below and calmly devise her next move from above.

The poor leader regretted his overconfidence. He had assumed the rabbit-girl’s appearance was deceptive and found himself up against what he now believed to be the most powerful witch he had ever encountered. In his mind, she was predicting their every move and dodging every blow with ease.

For Narinder, the whole spectacle looked as bizarre as it must have felt to those below.

His servant appeared in his domain sporadically, battling some invisible enemy. At times, she paused for long stretches, mentally replaying her actions over and over. And then, just as suddenly, she vanished entirely.

After some time, her voice echoed through his domain—its tone far from the panicked squeak he was accustomed to. This time, it rang with steel.

“Prepare to welcome guests, Narinder. And enjoy your meal.”

So, the rabbit girl had learned an interesting trick.

It gave her confidence and helped her fend off various gangs and spies who had started showing up in her valley after that incident.

She began to consider that perhaps now she could push deeper into the forest, searching for the creature that had once sold her (...and also, of course, for her mission from Narinder).

But Narinder told her that while her tricks were quite entertaining, they were mostly useless against more serious opponents.

He said she should have stopped relying so much on chance and focus more on real combat.

The Cultist replied that she couldn't train alone, and asking for help from her followers would be too suspicious, especially after that incident. If they saw her mistakes, they might doubt her, and that wouldn't be good for Narinder.

Narinder, not being a fool, accepted her arguments.

He came up with a solution. His silent, loyal guards had always been with him. Why not make them her trainers? He had personally chosen and trained them, so he was confident they could impart the necessary skills to his servant.

Of course, softness wasn't really his style. Pain, after all, was a much better motivator for striving harder and dodging faster.

Those training sessions played a significant role in hardening the Cultist.

[aishangotome]

[Azel] Loving Devoutly in God's Harem - Part 1

Thank you @shatcey for providing the video for this!

This is a "what if" story.

You, a book merchant, visit Tanzanite and catch the eye of the Living God. You end up imprisoned in the "harem"...

Emma: Prince Azel, thank you for everything up until now.

Azel: Rejected. Why are you casually trying to escape? Wait!

Azel grabs my hand as I try to leave the room with my luggage.

(I guess I can't just suddenly run away without any explanation.)

Azel: Have you forgotten your debt to me?

Azel: You promised to repay the debt you owe me by acting as a shield against women, didn't you?

Emma: If all I have to do is repay the debt, there are other ways to pay.

Emma: For example, I could do other work and repay in installments...

Azel: Rejected.

Emma: Stingy!

Azel: Stingy is fine. Please get to work today.

Azel confiscates my luggage and looks down at me with a frown.

Emma: Then please listen to my earnest plea.

Azel: I'll listen, but that's it.

Emma: The other day, I heard from a merchant acquaintance...

Emma: That the story of the only woman to receive the sole affection of the Living God has already spread throughout the continent.

Azel: And?

Emma: If I were to fall in love with someone in the future, the rumors might become a hindrance.

Azel: Poor you.

Emma: Yes, poor me, right?

Azel: However, even if it's a pity for you, you have an obligation to pay your debt.

Azel: I have no choice but to tearfully bind you to the God's harem.

Emma: ...In the first place, that debt is due to your fraud, Prince Azel.

Emma: You only said you would introduce me to customers looking for books, but then you suddenly demanded a commission fee...

Azel: It's your fault for not confirming beforehand. It was a good learning experience, wasn't it?

(It's no use saying anything else.)

Emma: I've decided! I'm running away tonight!

Azel: Don't declare it so boldly! I'll put a collar on you.

Emma: ...I never knew Prince Azel had such a hobby...

Emma: Eek... W-w-wait a minute!

Azel pinches my cheeks, and when I resist, he picks me up.

Azel: This conversation is over. Let's go to sleep.

Emma: Are we together again today? I don't want to!

Azel: That's how a harem works, isn't it?

(What do you expect from a fake lover?)

The Living God is famous for keeping women at bay.

The harem's caretaker had been racking his brains about this for years, but the situation changed when Azel suddenly brought in a foreign girl.

(I've heard that he wants to do something about the current situation where countless women are flocking to enter the harem...)

(I wonder how long Azel intends to keep me tied down.)

Originally, we were more than acquaintances but less than friends, a book merchant and a customer.

I don't even know why I was targeted by the God.

I'm thrown onto the bed and he embraces my prone body. The warmth enveloping my back makes my heart pound.

(He probably imprisoned me for some baseless reason like, "I'm sure she won't fall for me"... )

(I wish he would realize that's not the case.)

Azel: Let me tell you, this is a measure to prevent you from escaping.

Azel: It's not like I want to sleep with you, so don't get the wrong idea.

(...There are plenty of other ways to keep me from escaping.)

(Since coming to the harem, I've been repeatedly swayed by Azel's suggestive behavior.)

(At first, I could easily brush it off, but as time goes by, it's becoming more difficult...)

(...It's painful to be told I can't fall in love with him.)

-

The next day, my plan to run away at night ended in failure.

Since I'm the only woman confined in the Living God's harem, the people around me are always going out of their way to try and win his favor by any means necessary.

It escalates day by day...

Emma: ...Sigh...

Azel: Don't sigh so obviously. It's contagious.

Emma: I never thought I'd be thrown into the bath while Prince Azel is bathing!

Even though the spacious bath allows for distance between us, soaking in the same water while wearing only a thin cloth is nothing short of an ordeal.

(What will happen if this keeps escalating?)

Azel: Just don't mind it.

Emma: Doesn't it bother you, Prince Azel?

Azel: If it's harmless, I don't care.

(Certainly, if we're this far apart, it doesn't really matter...)

(...That's impossible, isn't it?)

I sneak a glance at Azel, and he's completely averted his gaze from me.

Is this an "I'm not interested" attitude, or is it shyness...?

Either way, there's a prickling pain in my chest.

(Right now, it's just a bath, but there's a possibility that it could become a serious situation.)

(I gave up yesterday, but I really should try to escape, even if it's forced.)

(...)

(...In the first place, I'm a decoy to ward off women.)

(Azel was supposed to hate women who approach him.)

(In other words, if I become like those women, he might get fed up and kick me out.)

(That's right... Why didn't I think of this sooner?!)

The brilliant idea that popped into my head seems like a long shot if I think about it calmly, but...

Cornered, I have no other choice.

Emma: Prince Azel, since we're here, shall I wash your back?

Azel: Huh?

Emma: Or perhaps I could wash your hair?

Azel: ...Ah, so you're trying to get kicked out by deliberately harming me.

(Ugh... He saw through me in an instant.)

Emma: N-no, I wouldn't think of doing something so straightforward.

Emma: It's just that, if I'm going to play the part of the favored woman, even if it's a lie, I thought I should be able to do at least this much.

(Don't be shy. Just a little... just a little more to endure.)

I inhale the steamy air and move closer to Azel through the water.

When I close the distance enough to touch him, his mystical eyes, filled with the starry sky, suddenly turn towards me.

(...!)

Azel: Unfortunately, that's not even enough to be considered harassment.

Emma: ...I'm not trying to harass you.

Emma: It's just... well...

Emma: I just want to love the Living God!

Azel: ...Is that so?

(Huh, he's calmer than I expected—)

(!?)

He puts his hand on my waist in the water and pulls me closer.

Before I know it, our bodies are touching through the thin cloth.

Azel: Then please do your best.

(...Eh?)

.

.

.

Part 2

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[terioncalling]

You Are Real and So Am I

I had been not going to actually write anything yet with my first Rook until I worked on some other things fanfic-wise but this hit while reading something and I had to bang it out. It may get changed up later but here's what it is for now.

"You were never ready to make the sacrifices that leadership requires."

Solas' words rang through Ambrose's head as he sat on one of the other cots, staring at the one that until hours ago he had considered Varric's. And it was Varric's…just not in the way he had been seeing it. There was Varric's coat…and his book…and poor broken Bianca on the table beside it…but no Varric. There had never been a Varric in the Lighthouse.

"How could I know if I was or not?" he muttered bitterly out loud. "When you never let me see everything, you fucking bastard?"

Yet…looking back now, Ambrose could see all the spots where things were wrong. Where he heard Varric but no one else seemed to. And after living three parts of his life before where he had been manipulated in one way or another - first by his family, then by the Circle, then by the Wardens - he was shocked that he had been so blindsided by this one. Then again…he had been up against an Elven god.

"And don't know sacrifice?" he hissed, suddenly refinding his anger at everything that had happened as a tangled knot in his chest that felt like it was pressing on his lungs. "I don't know sacrifice? All Wardens are is sacrifice and I knew that from the moment I chose them!"

"You didn't even let me mourn!" Ambrose snarled, fingers curling into his hair as he curled into himself as if to contain the mounting fury inside of him before it could escape.

"Rook?"

Ambrose's head snapped up at the soft voice from the door and he let his hands falls listlessly to rest on his thighs as he breathed, "Hey, Harding."

"You should be resting," she commented as she moved into the room, gently placing her hand on the end of the cot. Then she frowned and added, "But I'm guessing that that brain of yours is running wild after everything, isn't it?"

He snorted and replied bitterly, "Like a mage with a templar on their heels."

Harding's mouth quirked into the start of a smile but never solidified fully into one. She knew too well that he'd been just a kid just younger than her when the Circles had fallen and the Mage Templar War had raged and that he had run with more than one templar on his heels. He watched her eyes cant briefly over towards Varric's cot and then she sighed, moving her hand from the end of the one he was sitting on to his arm. "Ambrose," she said gently, her tone soft in that way it only went for him, "you need to rest."

Ambrose looked down at her hand on his arm - so small but stronger than he felt right now - and then bowed his head. He felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes as he hissed, "I don't want to sleep. If I sleep, I'll walk the Fade and I…I…" His voice hitched, his lungs feeling like they were compressing, and he gasped, "I'm afraid of being trapped there. Again."

"You're here," she insisted, moving to stand in front of him. He felt Harding's hands against his knees, pushing them open and he let her manipulate him, and then her arms were around his neck as her body leaned into his own. "You're safe here, with me," she breathed in his ear and Ambrose pulled her tight against him, burying his face into her shoulder.

"I didn't even know he was gone," he gasped, his voice breaking. "What else wasn't real if he wasn't?"

Harding's hands were on his face then, dragging him up to meet her eyes. "This is real," she said firmly, putting brief pressure through her palms. "We are. If you believe in nothing else, believe in that."

Ambrose stared at her for a long moment before he breathed, "Hit me with it."

"With…what?" The confusion then cleared her face and she hissed, "Ambrose, no!"

His hands shook as he brought them up to rest on her hips, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers as he closed his eyes. "Please," he begged softly. "I need…I need to not think. And I need to know this is real. That you're real and I'm here. The Fade couldn't hope to replicate what you do to me."

She sighed and then tilted her head down so she could kiss him briefly on the mouth, hissing, "Never again after this. I don't…I don't like hurting you."

"It doesn't hurt if it's you," he whispered without hesitation in reply.

"Fool man," Harding hissed but her tone showed clear fondness.

Then her mouth sealed over his and everything flashed bright blue inside of him and Ambrose was somewhere between falling and floating. He slumped over onto Harding and thought that maybe he gave her an apology - he was a big, brawny fellow, after all, and she was so small in comparison - but it turned into giggles as she manhandled him down onto his side on the cot he'd been sitting on. As she turned away, he grabbed for her wrist and asked, "Stay?"

"You need to sleep," she insisted, smoothing his hair back behind his ear.

"I sleep better with you near," Ambrose admitted.

Harding's face softened and she leaned down to softly kiss his forehead before she settled into a chair next to him. Ambrose reached for her hand, twining their fingers together before he pressed a long kiss to her fingertips and breathed, "You're really here."

She nodded and lifted their now joined hands to kiss his scarred knuckles, saying, "I have you, Ambrose. I promise."

He smiled broadly at her, and then finally, with her hand in his and the sharp pulse of her "rock stuff" power as Taash put it sparking through his body along every magical nerve like a pleasant drunkenness, Ambrose allowed himself to close his eyes and finally slept.

[wwheeljack]

Still haven't caught sight of Drag Strip's or Wildrider's names, but that's three out of five components of Menasor who show up in the race alone.