#it doesn't make sense I know he doesn't know or care

[third-thoughts]

Well, perhaps love is doing what will help someone.

Other people are saying that the love that caused Orpheus to look back is the same love that caused him to go to the Underworld to rescue Eurydice in the first place, and I do think that's a good and interesting way of looking at his character. For him, love causes him to seek her out, and that causes him both to come to her rescue and doom her by looking for her. That's how it works for this character, for this story.

But that doesn't mean that's how love works for everyone. Some people, out of love, would do what needed to be done. They would put aside their personal feelings, MAKE themselves curb their spur-of-the-moment instincts, drill it into themselves before they took the first step out of the Underworld that they must not look back, they WILL not look back. For love.

Of course we "look back" every day, in the sense tha OP says. Checking on a friend, checking on yourself. As a habit of care.

But this is not every day. That day, to love is not to look back, because you know that looking back will doom the one you love. That day, you must steel yourself against your habits, because they will not help you now.

It's understandable that Orpheus can't fully do this. I certainly wouldn't wish to berate him for it, were I given the chance to speak to him. On the contrary, I would try to console him. But he looked back out of both love and weakness.

"If I were orpheus I wouldn't look back"

But we look back everyday- rechecking emails, making sure a friend is still behind you, checking to see if you remebered to pick up your keys. It's second nature, a habit of care.

It was second nature for him too. He looked back, not out of weakness, but love. For what is love, if not to look back?

[tsunodaradio]

pick your poison, babe (i'm poison either way) ⛐ 𝐋𝐍𝟒

♫ and i'll tell you one thing, honey: i can tell when somebody still wants me. come clean.

ꔮ starring: lando norris x dj!reader. ꔮ word count: 2.8k. ꔮ includes: fluff, romance. profanity, mention of alcohol consumption. unspecified monza race win, feelings realization/denial, lando has a crush. title from taylor swift's imgonnagetyouback. ꔮ commentary box: feels apt to dedicate my first post on this blog to the person who introduced me to F1, @norrisradio. papaya forever, baby. this feels like something that could be part of a bigger story, but for now! enjoy a down bad lando. <3 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The Monza podium still feels like a fever dream. The kind of night he should be spending at an over-the-top afterparty, champagne showers and all, with people yelling his name like he hadn’t just spent two hours driving for his life. 

Instead of basking in the glow of P3 with the rest of the grid, Lando finds himself tugging the brim of a McLaren cap lower over his eyes, slipping past the bouncer of an underground rave.

He mumbles something unintelligible when the bouncer glances at him for a beat too long, and the guy doesn’t press. Maybe he doesn't care, or maybe he just thinks Lando’s another kid trying too hard to look mysterious. Either way, Lando is grateful. 

Lando hurries down the narrow hallway, his trainers squeaking against the concrete floor as the bass rattles through the venue like a pulse.He tells himself he’s here for the music. That he’s been desperate for a proper night out, a way to blow off steam without the whole world watching. 

But the truth is, he knows exactly who’s playing tonight. He’d seen the lineup on Instagram— your name sandwiched between two other local DJs— and something in him short-circuited.

You’ve met a couple of times, exchanged a handful of words over mixing decks at a mutual friend’s house party in Monaco. He picked up DJ-ing as a hobby a few years back, a way to kill time between races. 

He had become painfully aware of how much of an amateur he was the moment you’d started playing. You made it look effortless. 

He’d been hooked since.

Not in a crush way, obviously.

That would be ridiculous.

Lando shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and follows the glow of LED lights deeper into the venue. The air smells like sweat and cheap liquor, the crowd a chaotic mess of limbs and blurry faces. People bump into him, and Lando mutters apologies swallowed up by the music.

He clocks you at the DJ booth almost immediately.

It’s embarrassing how quickly he finds you. How his eyes cut through the sea of bodies like they’ve been trained on you this whole time. 

You’re lit up in shades of red and blue, fingers dancing across the soundboard with a kind of swagger that makes Lando want to rip his cap off and run straight back to the paddock.

He tells himself he won’t get too close. That he’ll hang back, maybe grab a drink and nod along like he’s just here for the vibe. But then you glance up from the decks, and your gaze flickers through the crowd like you can sense him there. 

Lando panics, jerking to the side and bumping into someone holding a full cup of beer. “Mate,” the guy groans, shaking liquid off his arm, but Lando doesn’t even register it. 

His pulse is hammering, a bead of sweat rolling down the back of his neck. Must be the heat, he thinks to himself. 

He’s not nervous. 

He’s not.

Lando leans against a graffiti-splattered wall, heart in his throat as the bass thrums through his chest. He’ll stay for a bit. Maybe until your set ends. Maybe until you step off the stage, and he can casually, accidentally cross paths with you.

Just to say ‘hi’. 

Nothing else. 

The beat thrums through the floor, reverberating up Lando's spine like the aftershock of a race. Bodies move in synchronized chaos under the strobing lights, but he only sees you.

You, perched behind the DJ booth, fingers deftly turning dials and sliding faders. Your hair is damp with sweat, the glint of neon catching on your skin. You look like you belong here— like the music isn't just something you play, but something you breathe.

Lando tells himself he’s just appreciating the artistry, the technical skill. 

It has nothing to do with the way his chest tightens every time you flash a grin at the crowd.

His feet start moving before his brain can catch up. He snakes through the crowd, heart hammering harder than it did on the podium. He angles himself perfectly— or so he convinces himself— lingering just by the side of the stage. 

When you descend, your set concluded, your shoulder brushes his chest. Lando executes the most intentional accidental bump in history.

“Oh, shit— sorry!” 

He barely registers your words. The second your eyes meet his, he knows he’s completely screwed. 

Recognition blooms on your face like a firework. When you smile at him, it feels like the entire world tilts.

“Lando Norris?” you laugh, incredulous. “What are you doing here?”

He tugs his cap lower, hoping it might shield him from how devastatingly charming you are. “Just thought I’d check out the music scene,” he lies, his voice failing to land anywhere near casual.

You cock your head, suspicious but amused. “And you just so happened to end up at my set?”

Lando swallows, throat tight. “Just my luck,” he says, the words brittle on his tongue.

You laugh, the sound bright and sharp despite the dozens of other noises warring for his attention. The music hums through Lando’s body like a second heartbeat, but it dulls to a murmur the longer he stands next to you. 

He’s keenly aware of every movement you make. The way you tuck loose strands of hair behind your ear, the lingering adrenaline in your smile, the subtle shift of your weight as you rock on your heels.

“You here with anyone?” you ask, voice still pitched a little louder from your set. “Want anything? A drink?”

Lando shakes his head so quickly he almost gives himself whiplash. “No, I’m good. Thanks, though.” He licks his lips, nerves writhing in his chest like live wires. And because he’s a masochist, he asks, “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Here with anyone.”

You tilt your head, brows lifting. For a second, Lando thinks he’s made a mistake, that you’re about to brush him off, but then you shake your head with an easy grin.

“Nope,” you say. “Just me.”

The knot in Lando’s stomach loosens, and the relief is instant— almost shameful in how palpable it is. He feels a little steadier now, a little more like himself. The familiar tinge of confidence edges its way back into his voice.

“Well,” he starts, just on the right side of teasing, “I hope I’m not keeping you from anything.”

Your gaze lingers on him, contemplating. Lando swears his pulse stutters.

After a beat, you shrug. “Nowhere better to be.”

A small, smug smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, but he bites it back. “Guess that makes two of us,” he says, just loud enough for you to hear. 

The bass thumps back to life, rippling through the crowd like a living thing, and you tilt your head at Lando, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Do pretty little drivers like you even know how to rave?” you ask, voice raised over the music.

Lando scoffs, the sound drowned out by the beat. He lifts his chin, his usual cocky edge peeking through. “Do pretty little DJs like you know how to drive?” 

You laugh; Lando thinks he could live off the sound. Before he knows it, you’re tugging him back into the crowd, bodies pressing in on either side as the music surges. The neon lights flicker across your skin, and Lando, without really meaning to (or maybe meaning to a little too much), lets the crowd shift him closer to you. Shoulder brushing shoulder, arm to arm, fingertips grazing as you both move to the rhythm.

It’s a flimsy excuse to touch you, and he’s pathetically grateful for it.

You notice the way his eyes flicker to the occasional flash of a camera, the way he subtly angles his face down to keep the shadow of his cap in place. You lean in, close enough that your lips nearly graze the shell of his ear. Instinctively, he tilts his head down so you can reach him without straining too much. 

“Tell me, Norris,” you tease, your voice a low hum that curls through his chest, “are you still racing?” 

“What?” he sputters out with a laugh. 

“Answer the question,” you insist, unable to hold back your own laughs. “Are you racing away from something? Racing towards something?” 

Lando knows the answer. That doesn’t make things any easier. And so he does what he does best— play it off, be incorrigible. “Pardon?” he asks, feigning the hardness of hearing. “You have to speak up!” 

You roll your eyes, the expression making you look a lot cuter than Lando cares to admit. “Nevermind,” you holler, pulling away. 

The pang of loss he feels is incomparable to his relief. For the next hour or so, that’s how he dodges your more invasive queries. 

“Why are you really here, Norris?” you ask at one point, voice raised to cut through the noise. 

Lando cups a hand around his ear and squints at you like he’s struggling to understand. “Sorry, what did you say?”

You shake your head but try again. “Why are you here?”

“Did you just ask if I’ve got hair in my ear?!”

You smack his shoulder, but he only grins wider, reveling in the way your touch lingers just a little longer than necessary. “You’re impossible,” you huff, but your smile softens the words.

A beat passes, and then you add, quieter, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Lando’s chest tightens. For a second, he forgets how to breathe. He recovers fast, though, leaning closer until his forehead nearly bumps yours. “Yeah,” he says, voice low but clear despite the music. “That’s what I thought you said.”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion, catching him out. “So you can hear me!”

He laughs, and laughs, and laughs, feeling very much like he won for a second time that night. 

The night wears on. Lando could keep going, really, but then your hand grazes his wrist. A fleeting touch before you beckon him with a tilt of your head. Lando follows without a word, the warmth of your fingers lingering on his skin like a brand.

He keeps his head down, tugging his cap lower as you weave through the venue. He glances around often, wary eyes flitting to clusters of people, to the occasional glint of a camera lens reflecting the strobes.

“I promise you’re not going to have dating rumors come tomorrow,” you say, catching his unease. Your voice is low, teasing, but there’s a sincerity beneath it that makes his chest ache.

“Promise?” he asks, trying to match your tone, but his voice wavers.

You smile, throwing a casual look over your shoulder. “Swear on it.”

Lando doesn’t know how you manage to navigate the labyrinthine corridors of the venue, weaving through bodies and shadowy hallways with practiced ease. You take him through a side door and up a flight of stairs, the clatter of your footsteps echoing in the narrow space.

At the top, you push open another door. Suddenly, you’re outside. The rooftop stretches out before you, bathed in the glow of the distant city lights. The air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of night-blooming flowers and lingering smoke. From up here, the music is a distant hum, the chaos below reduced to a quiet murmur.

You walk over to the edge, resting your elbows on the ledge. “Better?” you ask, looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

Lando exhales all the tension in his body before settling next to you. “Yeah,” he says, voice rough. “Better.”

The view is breathtaking. Monza sprawls out beneath you, a patchwork of golden lights against the darkened landscape. Lando watches you tip your head back to look at the sky, the faint sheen of sweat on your skin catching the glow from the streetlights. 

You’re radiant. 

It’s not fair. 

“Is this your usual post-set ritual?” he asks, leaning his forearms on the ledge.

“Kinda,” you answer vaguely. “Helps me clear my head.” 

Lando hums in agreement, though his head feels anything but clear. His heart is still pounding— not from the dancing, not from the adrenaline of sneaking around, but from being this close to you.

You half-turn to face him, your shoulder brushing against his. “So,” you start, playful but quiet. “Are you finally going to tell me why you’re really here?”

“Ah.” Lando laughs at your attempt to double down. “So that’s what this is. A trap.” 

You arch a brow. “I mean, it’s a fair question. Podium finisher skips team dinner to go rave in Monza?”

Lando squints at you, a slow grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Wait,” he starts slowly, “you knew I podiumed?”

“Everyone knows,” you deflect, looking back out over the city lights.

He inches closer, eyes gleaming. “You checked.”

You don’t even hesitate, barreling on where Lando might’ve sidetracked. “Of course I did,” you say. “I wanted to know if you’d win.”

Lando blinks, caught completely off guard. The rush of exhilaration that barrels through him is almost disorienting. “You were rooting for me?”

“You act like that’s weird.” You glance at him again, the corner of your mouth twitching upward. “I may not know much about racing, but I know enough to hope you’d end up on top.”

Lando’s throat bobs with a hard swallow. He doesn’t know what to do with that, doesn’t know how to process the fact that you— the person who makes him feel like he’s spinning out even when he’s on solid ground— had been watching, keeping tabs.

He clears his throat, feigning nonchalance. “I guess I had to come celebrate with my number one fan, then.”

You snort. “I never said I was your number one fan.”

He clutches his chest like you’ve physically wounded him. “Ouch. Brutal.”

You laugh, the sound echoing into the night, and Lando fears it’s becoming his new favorite noise. Much better than the squeal of tires, the roar of crowds, the electronic dance music that’d been spun downstairs. 

“So?” you prompt, turning to face him fully. “Why are you here, Mr. P3?”

He tilts his head, mouth curling up in a sly smile. “What was that?”

Your eyes narrow. “Don’t start.”

“Couldn’t hear you,” he quips, cupping a hand to his ear. “Something about my heart?”

You push off the railing. “I swear, Norris—”

"Okay, okay!" He laughs, hands raised in surrender.

The second your expression softens, though, he falters. 

The truth sticks to the roof of his mouth like honey, too sweet and too heavy to spit out. He glances down, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the concrete. “I just… wanted to unwind. Long weekend. And…” 

Fuck it. Lando swallows. Scratches the back of his neck. “Maybe I wanted to see you play.”

The words slip out like he’s admitting a felony. He doesn’t dare look at you, afraid of what he might find in your face. Amusement, pity, or worse— understanding. Because you’re smart enough to figure it out, figure him out. Because you probably already know what he’s danced around this entire evening.

He risks a glance, and his heart stutters.

You’re smiling.

Not in a way that mocks or patronizes, but something softer. Something that knots him up inside.

“Maybe?” you echo, tilting your head.

Lando exhales, rubbing a hand over his face like he can physically scrub the embarrassment away. He takes a careful step closer, shrugging like the confession doesn’t carry the weight of the world.

“Okay, probably,” he relents. “But, like, only a little.”

You hum, pretending to think it over, and Lando swears his heart is trying to punch a hole through his chest.

“I can live with that,” you say after a moment. 

It’s not much. It’s not a denial, not an acceptance, but it’s not like Lando is asking for anything, either. 

He could, he realizes. Ask what you have planned after this, ask if you’d like to chase each other through Monza’s streets like one of those old romantic comedies his mum would make him sit through. 

Instead, he only manages a soft, almost breathless, “Yeah?” 

The hope in his tone is a dangerous, treacherous thing. It’s almost as damning as the way he shifts just a little bit closer to you, the two of you leaning back against the railing. 

Lando isn’t going to kiss you tonight. He knows that much. 

Not tonight, but maybe—

“Yeah.” Your voice sounds just like his. Tender, hopeful. A whisper of I don’t mind seeing you, a promise of next time. Wherever and whenever that might be.  

Your shoulders press against each other. 

Neither of you pull away. ⛐

[urstruly-ghst]

the challenge - rook hunt !

in which the challenge you set out for is now in full swing (inspired by epic: the musical with the song, the challenge).

authors note: epic the musical my beloved. i love love love this request submitted by @padf-0-ot ! thank you for waiting; im sorry it took a while, im managing tho

requested ask !

cw: may not understand if you don't know the context of epic/the odyssey

rook hunt

wearing the crown was a heavy responsibility, it had been placed on you since you were born. it was what came to be with the blood you hone beneath your skin. however, that duty carried was always alleviated with rook by your side. he was the one who made your crown a secod thought, contrary to what you grew up with.

but, it soon occured to you it would be heavy on your head once more; rook hunt was lost in a mission, it was supposed to end quickly, but he didn't return. neither did his comrades. there was no word, no letter, not even a sign from any other kingdom. that worried you, that worried the kingdom. each one of your subjects looked at the empty throne beside you, sharing that worry and fear (or perhaps, they all share the glory of seeing you reign alone.)

each men rally up, their thoughts of ascending to the social ranks clouded their empathy. the suitors know how grievous it must be to be alone, holding onto the hope that rook was not dead, but they also seem not to care. there was no king, no one to share your burdens, surely you'd want company?

no matter their attempts to take the throne, you'd stall. it was an array of stalling, you used up every excuse you can try. first it was grief, second was the state was in a crisis, and now.... they've grown impatient. it has been years, yet the throne gets colder as the king fails to return or send a sign. will he ever return?

"i refuse!" you yell as the council all stare. it was you who had the power, why was the council allowing such arrangements to happen?they sat in front of you, the crown, and begged for you to marry a suitor.

how dare they ask that from you? after all your work to keep the crisis at bay, they repay you with a torturous task?

"your majesty, this is what would further benefit our kingdom. you have stalled long enough." the eldest council proclaimed as they showcased data and news from the kingdom. morale is low. especially after the storm that struck your shores.

you glare as you saw the undeniable problem and the solution was clear as day. you couldn't hold onto the thrown nor the crisis forever, but...

you had hope. rook hunt was out there, you could feel it in your bones. there was no way he'd be dead. the council looks at you, waiting on your next word, your plan.

"i have one more challenge. this is the last one. bring me to the armory." you say as you surrendered. but even if you surrendered, you wouldn't allow them, not even for a second, to think they had their wishes granted.

---

you glare as you held your husband's bow as the guards open the gates to your throne room. the suitors chattered amongst themselves but soon silenced as they saw you enter.

"this here is my husband's bow." you say as you raised the bow, it was sturdy, comically large, and a symbol of his prowess. "it has long snapped, but none can restring it. my challenge is this,"

you unveil the axes that were lined up, "whoever strings this bow, and shoot through these axes cleanly..." you hesitate, "will became the new king, my new husband"

"that's what those were for" one suitor said, "it doesn't make sense!" the other proclaimed

the mumurs were loud, each suitor boasting or complaining over the challenge, you glare at them as you see them scramble to get to the bow.

among the crowds was your husband, rook, who stood silent by the pillars. rook laughed at how gullible these men were to believe that they can even string the bow. it takes a wit of the hunt's to know how to string it, it was a family heirloom. it curved weirdly, deceiving those who do not know to string it properly.

but he watched, in amusement. it was all their efforts that made it a comedy. rook watched each suitor try and try as they struggled to even get the string on the end of the bow. rook watched as each suitor soon gave up on even the bow, feeling the dismay build up. in his ragged clothes, rook hid in the shadows noting every weakness and strengths of each man.

“such a shame, these men seem to lack the knowledge to know a deception” rook muttered in sadness as he circled around them. the last suitor dropped the bow and screamed in the room,

“screw this competition. don’t you see we’re being played?!” it was an outraged yell as they point at the throne room, as if they’re trying to yell at you for this competition. and by virtue, they were being played, rook can appreciate this from the man. At the very least, one man knew his queen’s wit. 

as the suitors gather around feeling they’re now understanding the consequences of their foolish parade around the bow, rook swiftly takes the bow and strings it with ease. unknown to him, rook was being watched by the sidelines. you were there, seeing him in silence, not recognizing him and had your heart beat in anticipation as the bow was being strung.

thwack! 

the arrow flew gracefully to the end, hitting the target on the wall. the chatter died down, as the riot that was bubbling over ended. the arrow stabbed firmly on the end of the target, it made the suitors shut up. rook revealed his identity by letting his hood and shadow go, revealing a disheveled man who’s eyes were tired but victorious.

“mon dieu! it was painful to watch this challenge be failed by my country’s men, it is a simple test of wit.” rook smiled as he waved the strung bow, and the men were confused, it looked so normal in the king’s hand. 

“how?!” one yelled, the others were scrambling trying to see if this was a trick, did he hide the other bow? who was he? how dare he win the challenge!

“rook?” you whisper as you open the throne room, the light shining brightly.

“mon amour.” rook replied with a smile. 

[cherie-doll]

hello again!! i just wanted to askk, could i possibly request how the cod men would be with a self-conscious reader? :3 thank you for the curly-haired!reader hcs btw those were so cutesy!!

I hope u have a nice day/night <3 - 🦇

lol im back and yea ofc! (omg i finally wrote and posted something, EVERYONE CLAP)

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Being Self-Conscious Around Them

౨ৎ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

He notices that anytime you're out, you glance at your reflection in every mirror or window you appear in, you always regret doing it, and he notices it when you fix your hair to cover your face a little more, or bringing your hoodie over your head

He switches the shopping bags he was using both hands to carry to only one hand, with his now free hand he brings an arm over you and pulls you into him, tucking you into his side

And when you look up at him, a soft breath condensing in the cold air as it escapes your lips, he just smiles warmly and reassuringly at you

His voice, low but thickly as he says your name, wanting your utmost attention, and your eyes find his, in the quietude of the street on that evening you did not turn to glance at your reflection again

It is easy to worry endlessly, to get lost in your thoughts of how people see you, of being aware of every flaw someone could see in you, but you're once again reminded why for one person in the world who's always by your side sees past them

Ghost

Sometimes it is very subtle things you don't like about yourself, not always easy to perceive or notice, but he notices how you feel, the way you carry yourself is different, maybe your shoulders a little more hunched as you try to hide

He doesn't say anything, but he knows something like holding your hand extra tight will have your spinning mind grounded again when you're in public

A chaste but rare peck on your forehead when you get home as he detangles from your fingers and walks off, leaving you surprised but feeling warm inside for it

He knows he's not the best at providing comfort, the man himself uses a balaclava every time he goes out, the real reason for wearing it still unknown but you could say he's just gotten used to not showing his face, so he can't exactly tell you to not hide or turn away if he himself does it

Still, he wanted to give you something to lean on, anything to give you a little bit of reassurance

Soap

He doesn't see why you would be so self-conscious, he loves everything about you, why wouldn't you too?

To be honest, he's never cared that much about his appearance, and he may not exactly be the best when it comes to words, but he's trying

He wants to show you that you shouldn't shy away from him, that he will continue to show you love even if you're hesitant and overly aware of yourself, to not let it get to you or affect how you treat one another

He hates hearing you say negative things about yourself, even if you're just pointing them out, because he truly doesn't see the flaws you think are there, he looks up at you endearingly as he kneels down, his hands on your hips as he tells you about how he first fell for you

And God, you can't get him to shut up once he starts, you'll be laughing and telling him he can stop now, that you get the point he's trying to make, but he refuses to stop talking, you will listen to hear him go on for at least another 30 minutes

Gaz

Those days where your self confidence isn't the best suck :(, especially if you feel like nothing else is really going right and on top of that you just don't feel your best

Kyle would just sense that something is off when you walk through the door, he looks up from where he's sitting and just the sight of him makes you rush into his arms the moment he opens them for you

He'd hold you as he gently strokes your hair, which has a most calming effect on you, making your brain go quiet, feeling how soft his fingertips are against your scalp as they gently caress between strands of hair, it is during this that he asks if there's anything bothering you, since it's been a while since you've had a deep conversation

Feeling like nothing can hold you back, the streams of words just flows, and he's there to only nod and listen as he wishes he could clutch you tighter to his chest and heal everything inside of you, it hurts him to see you like this

But after you've poured everything out to him, he hums quietly and parts from you a little, you raise your head to meet his eyes in confusion

"You really think that?" and he gives the most loving and adoring look you've ever seen him give you it just melts you from the inside

Roach

Honestly, he'd sulk noticing how much it affects you, because he loves the confident you, how charming you are when you hold your head high not letting the thoughts swarming in the murky waters of your mind get to you

He knows he might not be able to change how you perceive yourself, but he can try his best to offer his comfort, maybe you're lying in bed, trying to make peace with the thoughts inside your head, and here comes your boyfriend/husband to climb into bed with you

Slowing making his way towards you like a cat seeking attention, resting his head on your lap as he stares up at you with dreamy eyes admiring you, and you can't ignore him, you take his face in your hands and feel the urge to aggressively love him

His soft smile reminding you of how much he loves you, it momentarily makes you forget about everything, you've been too engrossed in your thoughts you forgot about the person who could erase your doubts even if it was for a moment

The tenderness in his eyes when he murmurs "I love you"

Alejandro

Alejandro is the best at excessive flattery, he does not pass up a moment to tell you how good you look, the problem is that's what he thinks, you're more worried about what your mind has to say and what others might think too

No matter how far down you try to push your thoughts, they just keep finding a way to resurface and make you feel awful, why do you even care so much? It feels like you should, everyone else feels so natural, you want to feel normal for once

Seeing how distressing it can be for you to the point you avoid certain things, Alejandro decides to take matters into his own hands

Telling you, "Who cares what anyone else thinks? It's what you and I think, and no matter what, I still feel the same way", you already know he'd go through extreme measures just to have you feeling like the luckiest person alive, everyone should be envying you for having what you have and you should look and feel it too

Rudy

You're always asking him, "How do I look?" and he will always answer with a smile and "You're beautiful cariño" except you don't believe it, especially when you asked for his jacket, you're not even cold but suddenly you don't like how you feel in your outfit, maybe the people passing by are snickering or laughing or noticing that there is something wrong with you

You just want to turn around and go back home where you can be at peace without the fear of judgement, but Rudy stops for a moment, sensing right away how you feel and asking if you really want to, he could take you back home and instead choose to do something else for the night

You nod yes and he doesn't hesitate in rearranging his plans, he centers his life around you anyways, and he'd rather take a raincheck for any other night than make you feel uncomfortable, he just cares endlessly about you

But he wishes he could find a way to make you see you like he does

Phillip Graves

Waiiitt I've literally entertained the idea of this with him before ;)

You staring into the mirror, unsatisfied with yourself until you're approached by Phillip from behind, him wrapping an arm around your waist, resting his head onto your shoulder and nuzzling his nose into your neck, making you laugh softly

But he notices that sad look behind your eyes, your furrowed brows

No matter how much you try to bring it up to him, he will not let you get more than a sentence in before shaking his head, he doesn't want you to express anymore of those negative feelings, knowing that if you started you'd just go on until you started crying

He'd have you meet his gaze through the mirror, making you stare deep into his beautiful blue eyes asking if you truly trust him, if you nod yes, he'll tell you how he truthfully finds every part of you attractive, how alluring you've been from the first moment he laid eyes on you and how you should discard other people's thoughts

"You truly are the most stunning thing I've ever seen"

Makarov

He did find it strange how you'd gradually become quiet the longer you were around people, and then when you came back home you'd immediately go to the mirror and smile and practice different facial expressions in front of it

When he asks you what you're doing, you simply wave him away, you're only trying to see what you looked like when you were talking to people, did you really look like that? And suddenly you notice other things

Until you're convinced you shouldn't really smile so wide or talk so much, but all it takes is Makarov and his rare tenderness to make you forget about it and feeling good again

He sees no blemishes on you, and you allow yourself to tell you whatever he wants as he drags you away from the mirror and pulling you into bed with him, spooning you, whispering into your ear how you're better than all those insufferable leeches anyways

And for the next time you're getting ready, you receive a questionable amount of compliments from the help Makarov keeps around the house, did he tell them to do that?

Keegan

Keegan wouldn't have known you were being self-conscious around him if it weren't for the fact that you started changing when you were alone, you no longer let him stare at you too long, afraid he'd see something he wouldn't like

You were always trying to turn away or cover yourself if he came into a room when you weren't dressed, yelling at him to get out, except he doesn't care and ignores you anyways as he settles into bed or he holds your hands so you can't cover your face when he leans in closer to get a look at your face

"Hey, don't hide from me" as he turns you to face him, his eyes impossible to part from as he stares deeply into yours, trying to find that fear so deeply rooted in you and pull it out, no one should reach this low, and he'd be a damn fool to let it get to you

He wouldn't want to lose you to this disquietude

König

He very much understands and notices when you're feeling self-conscious, he often feels it too, awkward and unsure of himself when around others, with you though, he forgets about that feeling entirely

Obviously, he's going to do something when you're starting to feel like that, first thing is searching for a place where there is less people, the air gets heavy rather quickly when there are too many people which only makes things worse especially if there's a crowd of people

Doesn't really say much as you both settle into a bench, he's not even sure you noticed that he did it intentionally, he kind of fiddles with his hands nervously but he sits there for a moment, watching the scenery with you, until you lean into him

He's surprised but welcomes it, bringing an arm around your shoulder, "König?" and he responds with a hum, "Do you think... other people think I'm weird?"

Seriously? That's what you were worried about? As if his entire being hasn't always been clumsy and sheepish when around others, yet he still somehow managed to bag you, he snorts, if you're weird he can't imagine what word would be used to describe him

Horangi

He might not fully understand the anxiety that comes with feeling like everyone is constantly watching and judging everything you do or how you look, if anything he quite enjoys the feeling of having eyes on him, especially yours

But he notices how whenever he stares at you a little too long to the point you notice, your reaction gradually shifts from giving a timid and bashful smile to full on embarrassed, he doesn't understand, you're deserving of attention, so why don't you enjoy it?

You do end up explaining how much it bothers you, but there's a long list of things you're always taking notice of, isn't it weird how you walk? Don't you tend to look around too much at people? Is it only you who has an awkward interaction with someone every single time you go out? It's only you, right?

Again, he had never taken notice of these things, seeing as he's learned to take pride in how he carries himself and how he does things, he tells you people don't actually care, no one pays attention long enough to notice

Which is unfortunate really, why doesn't anyone else ever notice that spark in your eye, or that distinctive mark on you? Such a pity no one will ever get to look at you like how he does, maybe he's lucky because he has you all to himself

Nikto

He doesn't even notice what you're constantly worrying about, you've overlooked every scar of his, so why would you ever feel the need to worry about how others perceive you? Especially when it comes to him? It's not unusual of him anyways, you have to point things out for this guy to even take notice of

He sees you staring into the mirror and thinks nothing of it, sees you pull your shirt down every time you sit and again dismisses it, sees you looking uncomfortable when pictures are being taken, fine with him he hates them too

Until you're up at night thinking and he's in bed next to you ready to rest until your voice comes out shaky, frail as if on the verge of tears asking if he really even likes you

Needless to say, he's confused, tired and only grunts in response as he pulls you, snaking an arm around your waist and trapping you in his arms, when you try to move he just shushes you and tells you to sleep

You go to sleep not knowing he's still awake, staring gently at you as he caresses your hair

[seaborgium-dazies]

call me baby ♡ mdni

how mha boys praise you praise kink, established relationship, f!reader, dirty talk (puppy, princess, good girl), p in v, oral f!receiving 🌊: deku, bakugo, shoto, kirishima

deku:

I think it goes without saying that deku loves calling you puppy. He sprinkles a mix of darling, love and dear into his daily use of pet names as well. 'Puppy' is something very private to him; something meant just for him and you; something that lays both of you completely bare. And we all know how rambly deku gets when he's nervous or excited, you can bet your ass it's even more amplified when he's horny.

When deku came home after evening patrol completely spent you could practically feel the exhaustion dripping off of him and pooling on the floor around him. You hated seeing him like this and you knew you had to help him somehow. It didn't take long until you were on top of him bouncing and grinding to your hearts content. You made quick work of deku and soon enough he was trying his hardest to hold onto what was left of his sanity. "Puppy, you feel s'good" he slurs as your hips rock against his. He could barely keep his green eyes open and yet he couldn't stop praising you. "You're so so good to me puppy, taking me so well, ahh~". Even when his mind was wiped blank the love he held for you was so prominent that his tongue was doing somersaults, carefully stringing words of praise together "You're doing so good for me puppy. You feel haaah~ amazing. Keep going puppy, puppy-". His rambling came to a halt only as his muscles spasmed and his head fell back in a silent cry. But he was quick to pick up again after he came back to his senses, telling you how good you feel and how much he loves you <3

bakugo:

Bakugo may seem like a person who doesn't praise at all but in reality he's a sucker for it. In the beginning it would really require some emotional work from him though because admitting how much he cares for you and how important you are to him is incredibly hard for him. It's something he struggles with but after he gets used to being vulnerable with you he can't stop praising you. Especially when you're having sensual sex the words effortlessly fall from his lips.

You were going at it for what felt like hours and yet it was only your second round. Bakugos cock was pistoning in and out of you with speed that left you unable to speak. Your whines and moans fell like oil into the fire that is Katsuki Bakugos ego. "Yeah? You like that?" Katsuki asks breathlessly. Your reply made entirely of moans only earns a cocky chuckle. "You're taking me so well baby, just like that, yeah". He hungrily stares at the space where you two are connected, eager to get more moans out of you he starts circling your clit. "Just like that baby, just let loose for me princess". You couldn't help but throw your head back as he settled on the perfect pace. You couldn't help but wonder if someone had given him an instruction manual on how to make you cum with the way that he's working your buttons. "Eyes on me pretty princess" he says as he gently guides your face back "That's a good girl". And with one more flick of your clit your orgasm washes over you, bakugos voice still echoing through your head.

shoto:

At first shoto was very new to dirty talk but after you tried it out on him and he enjoyed it a lot he decided he wanted to be able to make you feel that way too. His gentle and kind nature translates to this aspect as well and and his dirty talk is very literal.

It took shoto mere seconds to figure out that something was bothering you. Although you tried to hide it as to not alarm or bother him, you weren't too surprised that he had you pegged so quickly. Shoto coaxed your troubles out of you, and as he heard that you couldn't help but feel undesirable and unattractive his brows furrowed. Luckily he knew exactly how to convince you of the opposite. His tongue was lapping at your folds and obscene slurping sounds filled the air. "Your pretty pussy tastes so good, mmmm". The vibration of shotos groan made you moan. He pulled away with a dopey smile and spoke with a voice so sweet it was practically dripping honey. "Look at you all splayed out for me, I've never seen anything more beautiful, you take my breath away baby". And just like that, as if he didn't just bring tears to your eyes with his words he ducked down and sucked on your clit like there was no tomorrow.

kirishima:

Kirishima is already kissing the ground you walk on in everyday life so it's no surprise that he's showering you with praise in the bedroom as well. Really it'd be a surprise if someone were to date him and NOT develop a praise kink. He maneuvers his way around words like a champion, alternating between sickly sweet and downright nasty.

Kirishima considered it a miracle that the two of you had a day off work that actually lined up. He didn't remember the last time that had happened. He was up and dripping with sweat from his morning run as you were still sound asleep. A quick shower later he stepped out of the fogged up room to hear you humming in the kitchen. He saw you making yourself a cup of coffee, leaning against the kitchen counter in nothing but panties and an oversized shirt. He took a good thirty seconds to just watch your ass gently bounce as you were bobbing your head to the song from the radio, almost salivating at the way your flesh spilled out of your panties. You heard a soft "Baby you're killing me" from the hallway. You just had to chuckle when you saw kirishima, palming his boner. The effect you had on him was truly undeniable. You curled your finger, beckoning him to come and kirishima was on you in an instant. His tongue was working miracles on your neck and every time he stopped to breathe, he leaned in close and whispered something sinfully sweet into your ear. As if your mind wasn't hazy enough as you heard him "Such a good girl for me, so perfect". Your knees were about to give out as kirishima scooped you up in his arms and carried you to your bed. You couldn't deny that he was your demise as well as your salvation.

all characters aged up

©️ seaborgium-dazies 2025

[elipri]

Oh man this chapter was hilarious, I laughed so much! But it's also filled with political details and dare I say a setup for future plots and (much needed) character development 👀

Starting off with the confirmation that Ostania is indeed a nationalist country

This is also the first time that an outsider seems to view The Punch as something positive, as though Anya is standing up to right-wing extremism (which would actually be super cool ngl)

All the comedy aside, this is the first child character who's actually aware of politics and international relations. It makes sense that a prince has to keenly study politics and diplomacy, most of his thoughts are about his country and which repercussions his interactions in Eden could have on the grand scheme of things. This kid literally breathes politics, everything from his mannerisms, expressions and thoughts is deeply embedded in his political upbringing. That's quite a burden for a 6 year old kid...

Now let's talk about how this will affect my favourite brat hahaha

They are literal opposites in everything, but I find it interesting how the prince is basically a subversion of Damian (and could probably bring out the worst in him)

Damian thinks he's hot shit because of his father and acts as though he's royalty, but he's maybe a noble at best. He calls everyone who doesn't share his status a peasant and looks down on them. His expressions are brash and very rude and he has gotten reprimanded for it before. He aspires to become a politician, yet he lacks every single skill for that. However he's also courageous when it does matter.

The prince on the other hand is obviously of royal descent, but he's not arrogant at all. In fact, he's just scared of international scandal and a coward. He's humble and eager to befriend his Ostanian classmates and doesn't care if they're "peasants". He has actual diplomatic skills that he applies all the time. He's honest and straightforward in his thoughts and doesn't feel ashamed to openly befriend Anya, even going as far as suggesting that he should visit her home

I can also see him subtly and passive-aggressively make digs at Damian. There seems to be a suggestion that his kingdom is either politically centrist and/or left-leaning and Damian might incorporate everything that prince hates. He would also get away with provoking Damian because he's already mastered diplomacy (for a 6 yo lol) which could ultimately lead to Damian embarrassing himself in front of everyone (and maybe even earn a tonitrus that he kinda deserves ngl). Unlike prince, Damian is impulsive, emotional and just starts to scream at everyone around him. He doesn't know what composure is.

Honestly I wouldn't be surprised if most of their classmates will start to distance themselves from Damian and no longer put him on a pedestal. Why should they when there's a literal prince among them who treats everyone with respect and is always eloquent, even when he's internally freaking out.

All of this will hopefully trigger Damian's long-overdue character development. The clash with prince is inevitable either way, especially because Anya is involved. Yes I want to see jealous Damian, but I also want him to grow up a little and realize that he's not that important, he shouldn't treat others as beneath him and most importantly he should realize that he knows nothing. He doesn't know what actually makes a great leader and politician. He doesn't know how Ostania and his father are viewed internationally. He's not aware how his actions could actually bear political consequences.

I do hope he will befriend prince in the end though, he could learn many things from him. Only in Eden do international relations form during elementary school lmao

[asha-mage]

February couldn't let me go without one final sucker punch to the gut so naturally I'm coping by thinking about gay people in fantasy and/or historical settings, so have this thought-

One of the inherent erotic tensions in Arthur and Merlin's relationship is that Arthur, as a future sovereign, is wedded to the realm. This is a common motif in monarchies, and was most famously used by Elizabeth I to defend her legitimacy in the face of her choice not to marry. This relates to Arthur's relationship with Merlin because Merlin is the land. I've joked that Merlin is the divine right of kings in human form but the clear subtext throughout the show is that Merlin is the living embodiment of Albion's magic. He is Emerys a figure of awe to the druids. He is last of the Dragonlords, and the chosen one of Kilgarah's prophecy and he is bursting with so much magic that he can barely control it. He is one with the land because magic is one with the land. He is wild and untamed impossible to control, and with is own sense of rules and balance justice- literally everything about magic that Uther hates and tries to repress.

And it makes a perverse sense that the show's corner stone is his and Arthur's relationship. Arthur is the future king- in a very real way he and Merlin are already married, bound together inextricably. Merlin has the power to reach out and destroy Arthur at any time, as easy as closing his hand and he doesn't, because he believes in him and cares for him and knows he can save them all. If that ever stops being true- if that relationship ever falls apart that's it. Merlin could walk away at any time and that's the end of Camelot, of Albion, of destiny. He doesn't even have to kill Arthur, just leave him to reap what Uther has sown, because without Merlin around to shield Arthur, the consequences of Uther's hate would kill Arthur a hundred times over. The true struggle in the series isn't against Morgana, or Mordred, or anyone else. It's in weather or not Merlin's belief in Arthur can withstand whatever can be thrown against it.

And the tragedy is that it does, and that still isn't enough to save either of them in the end. Merlin will never stop believing in Arthur, never stop loving him. Arthur is the ultimate king and Merlin is the avatar of the land he rules over and they are two sides of the same coin, to halves of legend still waiting to be told, a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled.

Arthur is the once and future king, and Merlin is the elder god of a land still yearning and crying out for his return.

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Even without an answer (perhaps the search will be enough)

carry me slowly, my sunlight (these colours, they fade for you only) - series masterlist here

pairing: damian wayne x reader (gender neutral)

length: 2.2k

genre: angsty hurt/comfort

warnings: non-sexual nudity, they're in the shower the whole time, injury / chronic pain talk, hmm trauma lasts forever and you have to live with it ig

a/n: I hope this makes sense I hope it's gooood I hope y'all like it <33

The ache that sets further in as you stand in the steam of your shower, you think, should be more familiar by now. The pain that surges through your back and your shoulder should feel a bit more like home. 

But as you stand with your head bowed under the spray of the shower, hot water cascading over you and tingling your skin as it throbs, you find that you've never felt quite so far removed from yourself. 

It's only the sound of the bathroom door opening, the quiet click of the lock and the shuffle of clothes on the other side of the fogged-up glass that makes you blink. But it doesn't make you move, and you stand, upright and trembling, as Damian slips into the shower behind you, hissing at the temperature of the water but stepping closer nonetheless to press a gentle kiss to the back of your neck.

"He shouldn't have said that to you," he murmurs softly, and as he traces his knuckles up your spine, you squeeze your eyes shut.

"He didn't mean anything by it."

"He's a detective," Damian continues, and there's a razor-sharp edge to his voice that feels so familiar. "He should've known."

"He's your father… I hope you didn't fight with him because of me," you say dully, and your voice is strained in a way that makes Damian put his hand on your shoulders and try to turn you around to face him. When you resist, though, keeping your head bowed, he sighs and squeezes your shoulders ever so gently. 

"I'll close my eyes if you don't want me to see you cry." And he offers it up so easily, holds it out to you like it's a simple allowance that you deserve. It's enough to make your head snap up, and when you turn to face Damian in his arms, your eyes are red-rimmed and sensitive from your tears.

"You've seen me cry before, Dames," you say softly, smoothing your fingers over his soaked, dripping hair.

"That doesn't mean I have the right to see it every time," he responds patiently. "And I'd rather you cry whenever you need to than have the privilege of seeing it every time you do." You hum in understanding at that, looking down at your palms as you press them against Damian's chest, ignoring the ache in your shoulder as you watch streams of water splash down his skin and onto yours. 

"Bruce is… incredibly aware of the toll that this work can take on your life and your body," he continues quietly. "He's made mistakes and learned from them so that we don't have to. For the others who learned to fight under him, it's…"

"It's ok, Dames," you say softly, the rush of water in your shared space nearly drowning out your voice. "I know the difference between me and the rest of you. Bruce reminded me of that."

"He shouldn't have."

"He just said the truth." 

You'd known that in the moment, as well - of course you had. When you'd ventured back into the Cave after a long night of patrol, rolling your shoulders and fighting against the onslaught of an old injury, you'd known that his words came from a place of help - of healing.

"You need to be careful with that," he'd said, and his voice, through the cowl, had made your hair stand on end in a way that only the Batman could. "It's your rotator cuff, isn't it? Easy to wreck if you don't pay attention to taking care of yourself."

"It's… fine," you'd replied hollowly, frozen and shifting on your feet in the face of being caught. 

"There's no use pretending you're not in pain when you are - you'll just make it worse," he'd sighed. "Anyway, there's nothing you can do to fix it now, not when the damage is already done. And it's not your fault that you weren't taught properly. But you need to learn how to take care of yourself out there. You're no use to anyone in Gotham if you wear your body into the ground. You need -"

"That's enough, Father." Damian's voice had been clipped as he strode between the two of you, his eyes narrowed at Bruce. You're sure he had more to say than that - sure that you'd caused some kind of conflict between the two of them, but you'd been too concerned with slipping out of the Cave and away from it all to really care. And Damian, with worry-clouded eyes, had let you go - let you run away once more. 

"Where'd you go, beloved," Damian's voice brings you back, his forefinger tapping gently against your nose as you blink the memory away. 

"Hm?"

"Your mind went somewhere else," he says softly, understandingly in a way that makes you bristle. "I'd prefer if you take me with you, wherever you're wandering off to."

"Bruce was wrong," you say stubbornly, looking up at Damian as he smoothes a hand up and down your spine.

"I know he was. I told him -"

"It is my fault."

"Oh…" he frowns. "No… it's not, my love."

"It is," you continue, plowing over whatever reassurances were about to be offered. You're not sure you could handle it if they really were. "It's my body, it's my problem, it's - I should've…" But you're not sure, really, what you could've done - a child puppeteered by something bigger than you, a soldier fighting a war that should not have been your own. 

"Does that make it better?" Damian asks kindly. "If it's your own doing? Does it make it easier to think that it was self-inflicted?" Your mouth snaps shut at his words, your eyes wide as you stare up at him with an exposed sort of understanding.

Damian takes your hand in his, smoothing your palm over a scar on his abdomen. You remember the incident in which he'd gotten it, of course - it had been some slip-up while he was training, all those years ago with the League of Assassins. His mother had called it a lesson, had declared that the scar should be a reminder of what he'd done wrong. 

"Our scars may be different shapes, beloved," he continues, his voice too kind for someone who's bled so much. "But they come from the same war. It is not your crime that you were controlled as you were. It is not your burden that you were used in such a way."

Your shoulder throbs as Damian speaks and you find yourself crumpling, just a bit, leaning into him and pressing your forehead against his chest as you begin to weep again. He stands, through it all - just as he always has, and you feel a pang of guilt at having shoved him back in the way that you did. 

"Damian, I-"

"It's ok," he soothes, quieting your wavering voice. "I'm right here." And as you sob into his chest, one of his hands coming up to the back of your head to press you more firmly against him while his other hand rubs up and down your back, Bruce's words echo in your head over and over and over.

The damage has already been done. The pain has already been inflicted. The scars have already been carved.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do with it," you choke out, heaving in a shuddering breath against Damian's chest.

"With what?"

"With all the things that are wrong with me now," you say as you breathe deeply, closing your eyes and forcing calmer exhales past your lips. 

"There is nothing wrong with you, my love," he says, and he offers it up so willingly, voice hushed and earnest like a prayer. "There's nothing wrong with you."

"My body is broken," your voice wavers as you speak, fresh tears building in your eyes. "My -  it doesn't work the way it should, or… or the way it used to. And it's not my fault, I didn't  - I didn't want this and - it's not my fault, I swear -"

"I know it's not," Damian interrupts your rambling, shushing you gently and pulling you closer with an arm wrapped firmly around your waist, his skin warm against yours. You bring your hands up to dig the heels of your palms into your closed eyes as you lean into him, matching your breaths to the steady rhythm of his own as the heat of the shower continues to dull the pain in your back and shoulder ever so slightly. 

"I don't know what we're supposed to do now," you admit slowly. "I don't know… How are we supposed to just live with this? How are we supposed to go the rest of forever trying to, I don't know…" You sort of trail off at the end, but you've found that, at this point, there are few words that really need to be spoken between the two of you. You let your fingers trace over the scar on Damian's abdomen and he hums in understanding. 

How are you supposed to live like this? As relics of a war that never should've happened - as altars to something that you'd never wished to pray to?

"I don't… know," he says haltingly, and you feel a bit guilty for asking him such an impossible question. But as you begin to shrink back from it, Damian cups your jaw in one of his hands, his palm warm and calloused against your cheek, and when he dips down to press a kiss firmly to your lips, you find that it's all a bit easier to deal with.

"I don't know, my love, what we're supposed to do with this. But we'll do it together, won't we? Whatever it is, we'll find a way together?"

"You don't have to ask that, love," you reply with another kiss, quick and gentle and promising. "Of course, it'll be together. It always is, isn't it?"

Always," he assures. "Although, I am sorry."

"For what, Dames?" you ask, a frown tugging at your lips as you reach to wipe a trail of water off his brow before it makes its way into his eyes. You can't imagine, in moments like these, when he holds you and shushes you and curls around you in such a way, what he could possibly be sorry for. 

"For not having an answer," he says simply, like he should know what's written in the stars, like he should be able to pluck the impossible from the heavens and lower it down to the earth for you. 

"You don't have to have all the answers," you assure, but a frown pulls at his lips all the same.

"I hate that you're in pain. I hate that… Beloved, you don't deserve it." You hum at that, pressing your lips together as more tears prick at the back of your eyes. You hate it, too, he knows, the dull pain that lives in you inescapably. It wears on you, too, he sees, the way that some days every movement is an ache.

"It's not your job to have all the answers," you say soothingly, and he shoots you a look, like he's pleading with you, asking you to stop comforting him so that he can comfort you. One day, you think, he'll realize that it goes both ways.

"I wish I had just this one."

"Yea," you laugh, and something flutters in his chest at the sound. "I'm sure you do. But this is all I ever need from you, you know. I'm not…" you trail off, shifting your stance as you look away. Damian lets you - always, lets you hide in plain sight in whichever ways you need to. 

"I don't know how we're supposed to live, most of the time," you continue, the uncertainty of it all rocking your stance just a bit, and Damian's arm tightens around your waist as if he knows. And, really, you're sure he does, somehow. "But I - I have always only ever wanted it to be you that I figure it out with. Even if… even if we never really get there."

"We will," he assures, and when you shoot him a long-suffering look, he brings your hand away from the scar on his abdomen and up to his face instead, pressing kisses along your knuckles. "There's nothing else we haven't been able to figure out, my love. This, I'm sure… even if it takes our whole lives, we'll figure this out, too.

"But if we don't -"

"We will -"

"But if we don't -" you continue, "I'm… I'm happy, at least, just to be right here with you. Even with all the damage that's been done. Even…" But you don't have to say it aloud, don't have to speak any of it into existence. Damian knows, and the proof is in the tender way in which he holds you, smoothing a hand over your hair and anchoring you against him with that hand on your waist. He knows. Even without an answer, perhaps the search will be enough.

[squidwithamelon]

I return. YEAH that makes sense. I DO remember some of that, I haven't looked up Ink's lore in so longgg, I was raw-dogging it. But yeah reading this is like having all those memories flood back into my head!!

I remember speaking to someone a long time about how meta that could get. Because in theory, if a creator wanted, say, error to destroy their au, that would be in the story of it no? I'm not well versed enough in him to go too deep into it. But I remember that part of the conversation.

AND YEAH!! He doesn't know about his background, I forgot about that too. I can see how that could create conflict with dream. Dream always has cared far too much after all.

And I need to dig through your blog more for all your (tasty) takes.

But I'd imagine dream wouldn't care much about himself being viewed as a character but others. But it also depends on where on the timeline dream is at too.

Again, very tired rambles, so sorry if it's a tad non-sensical.

I do think dreamtale is a fairytale in the sense that undertale is a game. There IS no outside world in dreamtale, it's just the village and a neverending forest. But no other sentient life.

Just like how there's no 'outside world' in undertale, at least not to the player.

Besides I think it fits with Dreamtale, it doesn't take place on earth or anything like earth.

It's surroundings are like a dream. The village is small but big! There are a lot of people but also little to no people.

There's as much as there needs to be for the fable.

I usually don't go with the whole 'every universe is a game' thing because I don't find it fun.

But I do think it's interesting if dreamtale was a folk tale. A story passed down through generations about the sins of judgement. But like, real.

It's an actual place.

Does that make sense?

[quesocheeso]

3am AU

Shadowpeach edition

I'm enjoying having this AU be written posts while I'm also working on comic strips for it, it's fun👍

Okay okay, since the au is based on what happens in canon/ canon present time I'll be referring to stuff from there

Okay so Shadowpeach is complicated in 3am AU (when are they not?) they're by all means rivals who are still hostile to each other, they have just extremely reeled it back when raising their kids, so although Xiaoxing knows they're in somewhat okay(?) terms, he doesn't know what really happened between them. Shadowpeach really went from enemies to co-parents, and they never spoke of their own issues, just an agreement to raise the kids without hostility to each other. Although at the time they shook hands on this, they only had Xiaoxing and the plan was to raise him to adulthood before going back to trying to beat each other up,,,but then they had Xiaoyue which monkey wrench moment fr

I also want to clarify, Shadowpeach aren't together in this AU, they definitely hook up with each other whenever they want, but they aren't together. Do they have romantic feelings for each other? Oh boy they definitely do, I just find it hilarious that Macaque knows he does, while Wukong is kinda oblivious or thinks he has indigestion.

Which brings me to the main topic: Love.

No matter how much Macaque says he hates or despises Wukong, he still goes out of his way to help him. No matter if his own life is in danger he is always there, and isn't that care? One could even say love? Maybe even...Unconditional love.

Hate is born out of love that has rotten, especially between two people like these monkeys.

Just like Peng said, my favorite little instigator, "is there anything wukong can do that will break his hold over you" like wow doesn't that sum it up

In the 3am AU, Macaque has always known that he loved Wukong romantically, even before the journey or brotherhood.

Wukong never really figured out his own feelings, and most likely didn't have a sense of unconditional love for the other, doesn't mean he didn't care.

He just didn't feel as intense as Macaque did, and that's fine.

I do think he was the first to fall out of love with the other (even before he realized he was in love😭) and I mean after the events that transpired in jttw it makes sense and is valid.

I just find it hilarious that the guy who died from his mistakes, got revived and hated the other, still fell in love again first like brother pls

Like dude you died?? You weren't supposed to come back, that was it. You got killed with the knowledge that that was the end, only reincarnation could bring you back and yet your back to being a simp???

Although kudos to him for his love being converted to hate ig

And yet here they are now, with two kids and a home in the island.

I think people in the outside can see how down bad Mac really is, which is hilarious when they look at Wukong and he's like ya that's my "rival", he's also a lil more hostile in their everyday lives which guys pls just talk like yeesh

Doesn't mean Wukong isn't down bad too, my guy just won't realize how much he really cares until it's almost too late😊

Shadowpeach just starts to figure out themselves after Season 3,,,like finally

[cheralith]

omg i really love your slytherin!kaiser au. !!!! your writing is so good !! 😋 i was wondering if you would do any other characters for this type of au if so could you do karasu hp au 🫡😈

character ; karasu tabito || wc ; 931 contains/cw ; gn!reader, no pronouns used, ravenclaw!reader, ravenclaw!karasu, hogwarts!au a/n ; this was sitting in my inbox for awhile and i honestly didn't really know what to write abt despite wanting to, so hope this is ok! another person added to the harem (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و

karasu has always been a rather fascinating character to me personally; dare i say he's very relatable in terms of how he finds himself mediocre? so he gets very confused as to why he's sorted into ravenclaw when he first comes to hogwarts, the house known for producing the most extraordinary wizards because he doesn't think of himself as such. he thinks he's a fraud.

it doesn't help that such a mentality worsens over the years. he excels at his subjects, yes, but amongst the house that many of its students at the top ranks of their classes, karasu merely blends in with the rest of them. there's nothing outstanding about him in particular that makes him stand out from the rest of his house.

so he attempts to search for a way. quidditch catches his eye because of the fact that in all the houses, there are only seven people on a team and he thinks by being one of those seven, he'd be able to stand out from the house of three hundred-something people. he tries out in his third year and doesn't make the cut and it discourages him from trying again in his fourth because if he can't even stand out in tryouts, how the hell was he suppose to make a name for himself if he'd ever make the team?

what makes him destroy that mentality is when he meets you. early in the fifth year, you're in his group for care of magical creatures, where you pick up on his ability to tame animals just by knowing their weaker, vulnerable points. tells you to press on the side of a hippogriff's neck to help calm it down when he sees your tense on your first ride and that the beast could sense it.

you're discussing about the most recent loss ravenclaw incurred from slytherin during a class break, karasu listening intently. you complain that their newest chaser, chigiri hyoma, was an insane weapon on the field, for his speed was incomparable to the others on your own team and what you've seen in the past.

karasu, who was watching the game at the time, tells you that you should've been more perceptive, that you're the upcoming captain, aren't you?

when you furrow your brows and question what he means by that, disapproving of his tone, he merely tells you that you missed a crucial point in the game that would've obliterated slytherin's newest weapon. that chigiri hyoma can't ride for long periods of time since it puts a strain on his back that he suffered an injury on awhile back due to the resisting air pressure.

"yeah, sure, he can definitely fly fast," he says, waving a nonchalant hand, "but he can only do it when he's about t'score a goal. if y'were able to pick that up earlier, ya could've made sure that he exhausted himself faster."

karasu notices your wide-eyed staring after he finishes his ramble of possible tactics you guys should've done against the other players, pointing out some of their key weaknesses. he asks you harshly, "what?" and despite his sharp tone, your eyes just continue sparkling at him.

"have you ever thought about trying out for the team?" you ask him excitedly.

he frowns and picks at his fingernails, head down in shame. "tried to. in my third year," he mutters. "didn't get in."

"well," you start giddily, thinking you found a diamond in the rough. "one of our old beaters had to step down due to an injury... we're hosting tryouts soon for his replacement."

karasu catches your drift and is quick to turn it down, not wanting to embarrass himself like last time. "no thanks. i'm good."

"but!" you protest, "we could use someone like you. someone who's really analytical. all of us are a lot stronger on a physical sense, but you seem to really have the nail on the head of our opponents. imagine what you could do!"

"... i don't have much experience playin' quidditch," he admits, scratching the back of his heating neck, "i don't think i'd be able to do well as the others."

you bite your lip, trying to think of what to say to him. you suddenly think of a plan that may be just a tad bit unfair to the others that would want to try out, but you think karasu could really be an amazing addition to the team with analytical skills that could compare to a familiar prodigal redhead's.

"i probably shouldn't be doing this but," you beckon him with your hand and whisper into his ear, "i could practice with you. just so you can get a solid grip on the play."

he thinks despite the colder weather, he's heating up a little too fast for his sake when your voice sends shivers down his spine.

you pull back with an excited smile on your face as the professor tells everyone to gather together again.

"i'm serious, think about it," you say to him as you begin to walk off to join some other friends of yours. "we'd love to have someone as extraordinary as you on the team."

you throw him a thumbs up just before you run off, leaving karasu dazed with your voice echoing the one word he's been desiring to attain the status of for years now in his mind.

"extraordinary, huh..." he murmurs with a soft grin, staring at the back of your figure when you chat and laugh amongst your friends. "someone like you sayin' that to someone like me... that's pretty funny."

[bloodchapell]

Do you want to write anything for Dr.Stone? Maybe hcs of what it’s like living with the characters? Platonic or not doesn’t matter.

what it's like to live with dr.stone characters

what to expect: implied stanxeno

your sword's note: thankyu so much for the request dear anon! let me know if i should do a part 2 with more characters, more on my mistresslist

senku

you never know when he is home, he could not come home for three days straight or come home at the same time every day

extremely organized but somehow doesn't mind some mess (as long as it doesn't disrupt his organization of important things)

if you are living with him as a roommate, this guy needs to know you for this life and three previous ones, if on a relationship it needs to be a really serious one for you two to live together

you will find things in the fridge that should NOT be in the fridge (with a note saying "do not consume unless you will 10 billion percent die")

his computer needs to run insane calculations so it can also run almost any game, he lets you use it (if you mess with his stuff the universe might colapse)

really popular: he either sleeps on a senior citizen schedule or has lost track of reality

if on a relationship: ideally he wants separate rooms, he doesn't want to disrupt your sleep when he is engulfed in the latest project and occasionally just wants to sleep on his own, sometimes tho he just crawls into your bed and lays stiff until he falls asleep, always wakes up hugging you or being hugged, swears on copernicus' name that he doesn't like it but it keeps happening (is this a pattern?)

great at following cooking instructions but can't innovate

showers with cold water for the "benefits" and complains if you take too long on the bathroom

folds clothes horribly so he just hangs them

no pets (its for the creature's safety i swear)

gen

if on a relation ship: u found a four of clubs in your underwear drawer? no you didn't

will manipulate you into cooking (either way don't let him cook)

collects cards decks and has them displayed

solid skincare routine, can't decide if he does some form of exercise like pilates or idek, have y'all seen his waist!? is that body tea natural???

if on a relationship: feet and hands always cold and he seeks your warmth when you sleep together, refuses to put on socks (bro walked everywhere without shoes in the stone world, he'd do that at home too)

will eat your food, he doesn't care if its labeled

hates chores day, but he is also really organized so that helps (has a random hidden pile of chao)

your place will always smell good because he brings flowers regularly

why are there 3 six-packs of cola in the fridge?

tsukasa

either brings mirai really often or straight up lives with her, she has her own room and all

cooks delicious meals my gawdd

if on a relationship: he makes sure you don't have to do a single thing. cooking? he got it. chores? he got it. you want the lights off? done. craving something? he will go buy it

if on a relationship: lets you brush his hair, play with it and take care of it (this is my dream)

this guy wakes up at the crack of dawn and will be making some protein shake that is inhumane

i hc that he really likes photography for some reason, so he will have pictures all up his room (or the entire place if you are together)

if on a relationship: he is a human heater, he is so damn warm when sleeping is kinda scary

exercises every single day (no shit), might drag you along

trophies and all displayed

ryusui

MANSIOOOOON

francois lives with you too, they have their own room

idk what is the situation here if you are roommates, makes more sense if you are together

you don't have to do a single thing, ever, it is all taken care of

you open doors and discover full on facilities that you never knew the place had, it keeps happening (is this place infinite?)

if on a relationship: your room matches those of royalty in webtoons, gigantic bed, a closet like barbie's in life in the dream house, a vanity with every product you could ever imagine, the bathroom has a massive tub and a smartass toilet

he would ask you to accompany somewhere real quick (you end up across the world on a party), if he ever asks for some of your time and you deny because of work, he will buy whatever company you work on and give you infinite paid vacation, if its because of studying he backs down and lets you study

has so many dogs, francois handles their schedule

the mansion is so big that you get surprised when you meet him unintentionally

if on a relationship: you also have separate rooms, and a room for the two of you

he brings sai over (against sai's will)

stan and xeno

why would you live with these two? are you their adopted child?

elegant ahh house

you are allowed to have a fish

chrome

rocks everywhere !

in the new modern era he is fascinated by simple house appliances. the microwave heats up the food? THATS BAAAAD. the washing machine washes the clothes? THATS BAAAD (downside is that he will take apart everything to learn how it works and it may not function again OR he will invent a house appliance that already exists "what if we had this artifact that woke us up through a bell?" "oh you mean an alarm clock?" he falls backwards)

organized as hell, knows where everything is. has he seen your polka dots sock? hell yeah

[starrbar]

Thanks for the tag x3 Sorry it took me so long to get to it haha. I'll highlight characters in red if I had a lot to say about multiples in one answer.

Favorite girl: I think I'd say Jinx because I love her character. All her scenes in S1 are compelling and tense, and I found her to be thoroughly tragic by the end. She's the thread that holds everything else together and it's beautiful. Also Ambessa and Sevika are both super hot and I always look forward to seeing them.

Favorite boy: I like boys. O_O My favorites are Silco, Singed, and Viktor. Silco is one of my favorite villain characters, very layered and complex, and I was genuinely intrigued and excited as I learned more of his story in S1. I'm also totally guilty of mega-simping for him in S2 despite how my opinions of the story would later sour. Singed honestly just has a fantastic voice and animation that hits me the same way Rango's animation does, where "ugly" characters are treated with such care that they're a treat to watch anyway. He's so stimulating aaaa. Finally, Viktor's arc in S1 is one of my favorites, handled patiently and expertly, and his arc in S2 has quite a few problems, but I still... really enjoy seeing him, and seeing him with Jayce, so I don't tend to be bothered by how S2 handled Viktor.

Least favorite character: You know what? I was so close to posting this with "S2 Caitlyn" because she's a nasty person who never gets to have a proper arc in any direction, but I think a more fitting answer would be S2 Vi. Caitlyn being an awful person in some scenes was still interesting and believable, if a bit rushed, and I would have been fine with her character going that path had it been executed a bit better. Vi, though, is just... turned into a sad lapdog who doesn't act on her own at any point and is just depressing to watch, even in her "happy" moments. God damn, they destroyed her this season. ><

Favorite ships: Zaundads, Sinco, JayVik, and Jilco. If I elaborated on each, I'd feel like I spent way too much time on this, but they each have dynamics I enjoy for different reasons.

Least favorite ship: S2 Caitvi. They were cute in S1, but S2 made Caitlyn an abusive war criminal and then pretended that didn't need to be properly addressed before Vi just gave herself to her. Blegh.

Favorite side character: Lately, it's Salo because I like em pathetic ahaha~ I've always loved Mylo too, adorable little Junkrat kid. x3c

Favorite songs: Oooooh this is a hard one. x3 Goodbye and What Could Have Been will always hit me so hard and remind me how watching Arcane for the first time felt, and for that, they're extra special. I think Playground still gives me those vibes too. I also adore Guns For Hire, and Dirty Little Animals goes so hard. S2 introduced quite a few songs I love too. Ashes and Blood, Renegade, and Spin the Wheel are favorites. Favorite score songs are: The Bridge, The City of Progress, You're Stronger Than You Think, You Can't Escape the Past, A Story of Opposites, Stubborn to the End, I Can Help Them, The Era of Hextech, Revenge, You're a Jinx, A Bicentennial, The Assailant, Romance, Traitor, She's Back, The Toy Boat, I'm Right Here, Showdown, First Steps, You're Perfect, and I'm far less familiar with S2's score, but I can't stop listening to I Promised You. <3

Favorite episode: S1 episode 3. There are tons of scenes I love throughout the story, but this episode marked one of the greatest experiences I've ever had watching a show.

Least favorite episode: So like... I'm not entirely sure which entire episode is my least favorite, so it might be easier to list "chunks", like all the Mel/Black Rose stuff is a boring waste of time to me, and all the final battle stuff is like... uuuuugh. But I didn't just wanna say s2 episode 9 because I do still like the Jayce and Viktor stuff even if, critically, I don't think most of it makes sense x'D. Those two are legit just a guilty pleasure this season and I'm okay with that.

Favorite duo: Oooooh, mmmm..... I think Jayce and Viktor fit the term "duo" best out of my favorites. My other fave is Jinx and Silco, even though they basically never work together, but their interactions are priceless. <3

Favorite design: Aaaaa so many good ones, ummm... honestly? Powder is one of my favorite characters to watch and her design is adorable and complex (a lot of characters are complex in design, but ye). I really love the mismatched look of a lot of Zaun outfits. Also past Silco is um, I'm locking him in my basement. >u>

Least favorite design: Hm... so... I don't think I've looked at any design and hated it, just felt like a few of them were kinda... not as appealing to me as previous versions. So, I prefer Ambessa's pre-S2A3 designs, and I think it's because she looks too slender in her final look compared to previous ones making her look so big and imposing. I think Jinx's newest design is... overrated and kind of messy to look at. I know she's a messy character, so that would fit, but I dunno, there's something missing or... something. It's also hard not to let my feelings on the story taint my feelings for some of the designs, like Vi and Caitlyn's, which look pretty damn cool actually, but I just always picture that final cuddly scene with them and it makes me feel icky.

Favorite scene: The Guns For Hire sequence ✨

Least favorite scene: The Silco, Vander, and Felicia flashback because it ruins the motivations of Silco and Vander, not just to adopt their kids, but to free Zaun from Piltover's oppressive hold. Felicia is pretty and even has some fun sassiness to her personality, but I want her far away from my boys.

I don't like this ending on a negative, so Imma add one more question myself:

Favorite visual moment: Of course, I can hardly pick less than a dozen, but I'll just list a couple off the top of my head, not counting previously mentioned stuff of course. I love the scene of the mage saving young Jayce and his mother. It's so gorgeous and fluid and the music adds so much too. Gahhhh- I also super love that shot of Silco leaning back while smoking right after he talks to Marcus.

I'm always bad at tagging, so just like, do it if you feel like! 8D

On tiktok there was this arcane trend that was just about stating some basic arcane opinions of yours and I thought it would be fun to do something similar here! You can tag others and make it a tagging game or you can just answer the questions do what you want :)

Favorite girl:

Favorite boy:

Least favorite character:

Favorite ship:

Least favorite ship:

Favorite side character:

Favorite song:

Favorite episode:

Least favorite episode:

Favorite duo:

Favorite design:

Least favorite design:

Favorite scene:

Least favorite scene:

[captain-huggy-bear]

With my PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome) I take a ton of supplements like inositol and multivits and my most hated chore is putting my weeks worth in my pill organiser, even though its better than finding them all out in the morning from separate places. I feel like Clay does little things to make your life easier especially if they're little chores you hate. I also feel like he's a super supportive partner when you have a condition or illness, whether its changing his diet/lifestyle to help or just reminding you of things.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

You wander around almost the entire house trying to find Clay to no avail. It's the middle of the day and you've checked all his usual midday spots. The kitchen where he'd be eating lunch, the living room with a game on for him to study, the garden with Lucky, but still no Clay.

You reach the bottom of the stairs, frowning up them before shouting out his name. It's unusual for Clay to be upstairs during the day, but not out of the realm of possibility.

"Clay?"

You wait a few beats before you hear his voice calling back. Loud enough for you to hear like he knew you were near the stairs and not just down the corridor, knowing Clay he probably did. He had a strangely good judgement on sound direction and distance.

"In the bedroom, baby!"

You make your way up the stairs and down the corridor, stopping in the doorway of your shared bedroom to see him hunched over your weekly pill organiser. His large hands fiddling with pouring out the right number of each of your supplements for your PCOS, occasionally dropping a few on the vanity and swearing, especially some of the tinier ones. He's focused, meticulous, each day being done in order, both morning and night.

"Clay? What are you doing?" You take a step further into the room.

"Sorting your pills for you." You can see that but it still doesn't make sense to you. They're your pills, you always organise them, even though you hate doing it. Clay's never done it before, you've never asked him too, he's busy enough with the season as it is.

"Why?"

Clay stops what he's doing, closing the last compartment on your pill organiser and looking up at you with a confused look, brow, the one that's still scarred from the puck to the face, lifting.

"Baby, you hate doing it." He says it so matter of fact, like that answers your question, as he stands and starts making his way towards you, a few long strides closing the distance.

"Okay?"

"So I figured I could sort it out before I have to leave for the roadie this week, that way you don't have to worry about it." It's really sweet but also puts an odd sort of panic through you, a fear that he feels like he has to do this, like he feels forced to.

"You don't have to do that, I'll do it." You try to insist even when it's obvious he's finished sorting it for the week, even as he smiles at you with a patient sort of amusement. The sort reserved for someone who's being silly but endearingly silly.

"Sweetheart, I want to do it." Clay tugs you towards him by the hands until you're in his arms, his palms resting on your lower back.

"But..."

He cuts you off, forehead pressing into your own, eyes half-lidded, a soft sort of smile directed at you. He loves you and he wants you to understand that this isn't a chore for him, it's something he wants to do for you, something he takes a certain pride in. Something he wished he'd been doing from the start, rather than just thinking to do it now. He likes taking care of you.

"I want to make your life easier...you're already dealing with your PCOS. The last thing I want is for you to get stressed out about sorting your pills out or forget to do it." He sees the strain you're under, the stress of trying to eat right for your body, to follow a million and one rules just to manage your symptoms and keep your body from fighting you. How you fight with your body dysmorphia on bad days. The last thing Clay wants is you to have to worry about something he can help with. He can't fix everything, he can't take your PCOS away or make your body work for you the way you want it to. But, he can do this.

"...Thank you..." You whisper it close enough to his lips that your breath is warm against them and he has to resist the urge to kiss you before he can respond because Clay's not done yet.

"Baby, I love you...you don't need to thank me for taking care of you." He knows you often feel like a burden, some leftover from your childhood, where you grew to feel like your needs were too much. Like you had to be thankful always in order to keep someone around. He hates it because he doesn't need thanks for looking after you, for loving you. He just does it.

"I know. Still, thank you. I love you...even if you didn't do this sort of thing, Clay, I'd still love you."

"I know, sweet girl."

This time he does kiss you, mouth slanting over yours for a deep kiss as his hands slip to your arse. He can't always be there. His work gets in the way, but things like this? Taking care of your pills or making sure the food in the house is the stuff you can eat? That he can do and it's his way of making sure you're taken care of, of saying he loves you without having to say it.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 150 (Inventing - or Reinventing? - Time Travel)

To research the possibilities of time travel, Felix Psyded, Esquire, and his girlfriend, Lilith Pleasant, had spent months at Laurel Library in Britechester. Emit's knowledge had proven helpful, but his device was too advanced for modern times and required materials yet to be discovered. They had a lot to learn, and often studied late into the evening.

These two - an attorney and a podcaster - knew next to nothing about programming or biometric sciences. But Lilith, especially, was determined to make a device to chase Emit's time thief, and Felix would stay by her side in any decade.

"I checked out a copy of A History of Time Travel like Ash suggested," she said eagerly. Felix quickly flipped her laptop to The Sims Archives, Volume 2, disguising the webpage he'd really been reading. "Are you enjoying the game? I didn't realize how much I missed playing it!"

He nodded absentmindedly, and Lilith noticed. She was about to raise the question when her twin sister, Angela, emerged from behind the bookshelves with a programming guide. "Geez, this stuff is difficult," she complained. "How are you planning to learn all this to make a time travel device?"

"Ash was taken with a faulty remote," explained Lilith. "He said we need to program it correctly or we might end up lost in time, but he's been a huge help on some things we just can't wrap our heads around."

"It's pretty crazy to let a nine-year-old help you build a device to jump through time. And how did he invent it already, because Emit's here, but not invent it yet at the same time?"

Lilith scowled at her twin. They'd been polar opposites since high school, and Lilith always felt a sense of moral superiority oozing from her earthy pastel pores. "Why are you even here, Angela? We didn't ask you for help."

"Excuse me for being interested!"

A librarian shushed them from somewhere beyond the tall rows of mahogany bookshelves, and Lilith leaned in to whisper. "You're not interested in the device, you're interested in Emit."

Angela caught herself before she let out a yowl, aghast at the suggestion. "A blue-haired time traveler? Please! Do I look desperate?"

Felix poked his head in gently, having built up a good relationship with Lilith's family. "No, but you look infatuated every time he's on TV. I don't blame you, really. He's polite, and he could well be handsome behind those sunglasses. He's mysterious; it's alluring!"

"Lil, if you're not careful, you're going to lose your boyfriend to Emit Relevart."

Lilith rolled her eyes and changed the subject as Angela huffed. "Ash thinks we need to look for something called a shard of time, which he first read about in Theoretical Electronics. He reads so fast, it's amazing! He says the shards are hard to spot, but if you look at something long enough, relax your mind, you'll see slight discoloration in an object. Once you see it, you can pick it up with your fingers. Ash said he found one on the toilet in his bathroom at home."

(This is Ash pondering time travel on the toilet for the quest points. I know it doesn't look like it but some of the event reward animations are sus or my game is broken. The actual books - Theoretical Electronics and A History of Time Travel - never appeared in Lilith's hands. That's why she's reading a violin skill book, which she picked herself when she was done reading the invisible books.)

"So you're going to go stare at toilets for a while?"

"Refrigerators, too," said Felix.

"This is so weird, you guys. Are you really serious about this?"

"After Felix is done work tomorrow, we're going back to Willow Creek to talk to Emit some more." Angela tried to stuff her hopeful expression and Lilith let out an exaggerated sigh. "Did you want to come with us?"

"Well...if you think I'd be helpful I'd be happy to-"

"Ange..." Lilith pursed her lips. She loved her sister, but she was always like this. "I said you could come and meet Emit. Don't act like it's a favour to me."

They made it to Willow Creek Park the next evening, where they found Emit still wandering the paths. He smiled and waved when he spotted the girls waiting for Felix near the public restroom. "Lilith Pleasant! I hoped you'd be back. Most of the gawkers have been unserious, and they don't come around as much now that the news cycle's moved on a little."

"We wouldn't know where to begin, but we've been getting help from someone...Does the name Ash Landgraab mean anything to you?"

After everything they'd learned about Ash's visit from the ghost of Marco, Lilith posed her question carefully. When Emit frowned, shaking his head, her shoulders dropped in relief. "Everyone's heard of the Landgraabs, but Ash Landgraab doesn't really ring a bell. Why?"

The sisters looked at each other. "When you're from, who invented time travel?"

Emit laughed as Felix joined them. "That's one of life's great mysteries! It's thought whoever invented it wanted - or needed - to be protected, so their identity was kept secret. When I was at the academy, there were rumours the inventor was a kid and that's why their name was never recorded, but some say people did know, and the inventor was well known once upon a time, but the truth was lost to history."

Felix chuckled. "Perhaps the truth was hidden by another time thief."

Lilith and Angela laughed with him, but Emit's face held a stern expression. "Time thieves aren't that funny. They could erase history as we know it if they try hard enough. Some days, my wristboard pings so often, each time they move to a new time, I can't possibly chase them alone. We're lucky the one we're dealing with is just dropping household furnishings all over the place. So far." He dropped his voice in an ominous tone. "But even that could break the strings holding time in place."

"Wow, you know so much!" Angela gushed at the blue-haired man, and he looked back to Lilith with a curious expression.

"Is this your clone?"

Lilith laughed, but Angela laughed louder. "This is my twin sister, Angela."

"It's nice to meet you, Angela."

They shared a sweet smile, and Lilith glanced knowingly at Felix. "We also wanted to ask you about shards of time," she said. "Where are the best places to look for them?"

Emit looked back to Lilith as though he'd forgotten she was there. "Shards? Oh shards! Sorry, our tech hasn't had to use shards for a long time. Shiny surfaces are best, but I suppose they could be anywhere, really, if you look long enough."

"That's what Ash said."

"This Ash sounds fascinating. I'd like to meet him, or his guardians, since you mentioned last time he's a child, didn't you? You're...you're not saying he's the one who invented time travel..."

"He hasn't yet," said Angela. "He's almost ten, but these two would probably be hopeless without him. He's the one who discovered the shards."

"A child Landgraab invents time travel? That is a headline!"

"His parents - at least his mother and his stepfather - don't want people hounding him the rest of his life."

"I don't blame them. It's important to protect children - even brilliant ones."

"Should you meet him some day, I think you'd be quite impressed by him," said Felix. "He's nothing like the rest of the Landgraabs."

Emit laughed. "What do you mean? The Landgraabs are incredible. They spent six billion simoleons to end global hunger and built the ship that stopped the asteroid. A Landgraab is president of Simlandia right now. Well, right where I came from."

Felix shared looks of surprise with Lilith and Angela. "Maybe Marco's stunt changed more than we thought," he mused.

Felix and Lilith paid attention to each other while Angela made small talk with Emit. But Emit seemed uninterested in her flirty advances, which he returned with friendly nods and turned glances.

Before they left him in the early hours of the morning, Felix gave him a burner phone so they could reach out if they had more questions. Emit took the untraceable phone willingly, glancing quickly at Angela before sending them home with polite goodbyes.

When they got back to the old three-story home they shared with Angela and her parents in Gibbs Hill, Lilith quickly went to bed. But Felix was mulling something over in his mind.

He tried reading, but his mind moved too fast to take in the paragraphs. When dawn finally broke and he left for work the next morning, he called his favourite grumpy police captain on the way.

"Hey. I know it's early, but I was wondering if you had a few minutes. I've got a problem I need to talk about..." ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

Last shot is of Felix is his work attire and not on the phone with Conrad because I liked it. He is not without swagger!

NOTE: If you've played through the event, you know the story is diverging a bit from the strict tasks since Emit isn't the sole source of information for Lilix here. Also, Angela had that instant attraction to Emit and I want to see if I can see that through. Even though Emit is being very professional-adjacent about it, he accepted some of her flirts, but not all, so I gave it a rest before he got mad. But once again, I'm making something much bigger than it is for the sake of plot.

[canary-clan]

PART 1/2 this moon has warnings! Careful

Very long Rambling below + If I forgot warnings tell me! Also idk if I'm keeping starclan as 'starclan' or just 'The Stars' for future

Aaaaahhh I've been waiting to draw this page! Since the very first leader doesn't get a full ceremony I thought 'what if the life ceremony was shown in relation to her deaths' (I havent played to far so idk if I can accullally do this for every one of Canarys deaths)

It is mentioned briefly in dialogue but since I don't think it will come up again I'll go into my ideas for Dove and Canarys history with each other...

Burrow-Clan was a very traditional clan that followed 'old rules'. Canary was the Star Keepers apprentice (a story teller and prophecy interpratior) a role created because having your doctor have visions of doom during treatment wasn't ideal... Dove really looked up to Canary, he wanted to be just like her but most of all Dove wanted to be able to talk to the stars... to be special to be helpful and important, but he couldn't even see glimpses of them at all, no matter how much he tried.

Then one day Canary disappeared. Its not unheard of for cats to be lost in the tunnels but it still hurt Dove deeply, he constantly was the subject of rumor for being the next star keeper after Canary since they were close. He resented this, the job was all he ever wanted but it cost his time of grief and made him have to constantly lie about his (lack of) connection to the stars

Moons/years pass, and he is woken up by... Canary? Sure this is a dream he indulges this fake version of his friends request to follow her out of the tunnel... and to take a forest walk to meet some of Canarys friends. But as they walk he realises. This doesn't feel like dreaming he can feel the dirt move under his paws and he can see the way leafs sway on the trees...

This is real. Canary is real, and alive... they are far from Burrow-Clan camp now when he turns around... and sees that Burrow-Clan has caved in, collapsed in... Canary stop him from running back... Canary knew she had to! She talked with stars and they knew everything and she didn't save them she left she disappeared and came back for what? Him?!? Why it didn't make any sense...

And now they are in a new clan... Canary-Clan. How dare she pretend to be leader when she didn't save her clan, his family.

(I dont know if any of the above is even readable or makes sense but I'm really tired so I'm not going back to reread it) I'm not a writer for obvious reasons, just needed this out of my brain.