#it's one of the only ways i can think about my future and plans and not fall into panic and depression

[trickster-archangel]

Funny that you mentioned it, because I've always thought the contrast between their hallucinations was stark, but for another reason, even if it still deals with control or lack thereof.

Steve’s hallucinations always take place in the past, or at least a sanitized, idyllic, idealistic portrayal of it. Steve has been trained to always be in control. Of his body, of his mind, of situations around him. But one of the KEY commandments of the BUD/S training, following which (or failing to) determines who's going to make it out as a SEAL and who's not, is Always focus on the present. Always focus on today, on this hour, on this minute. Always focus on the task at hand and how to succeed. Don't think about tomorrow. Don't think about how it might get worse. Don't think about the pain you still have to endure. The only easy day was yesterday, and you're fighting to survive today. Tomorrow doesn't matter.

You can see how such a deeply ingrained worldview might affect Steve’s attitude. Yes, he's always in control and always thinking strategically, to gain the better outcome (and if he doesn't allow himself the luxury to believe he'll make it out alive, or at least unscathed, then it's all part of the drilling). But at which price? He only owns his past, and his present. Future doesn't matter, it actually doesn't exist. Steve dreads Future, as probably all veterans do, because he never thought he'd make it out alive, hell! Probably he never expected to make it past 30...His complete meltdown in s10, in my eyes, is also caused by the complete collapse of all the established (albeit toxic) staples in his life: first Freddie, then John, then Catherine (metaphorically), then Joe, then Doris. They all are his past. They defined the man he is now, in a way or another. And when his Past (aka Daiyu Mei, aka Wo Fat) came after his Future (aka Danny), when they tried to take away the only thing he blurrily had come to identify with some timid attemp lt at planning a future....he broke.

I'm derailing. Steve can't think about future, can’t even imagine or plan a future, he piggybacks on DANNY’S future (aka the restaurant) because he doesn't give a fuck about having a restaurant (see 9x07) but he can't imagine going on if not at Danny’s side. That's why in his dreams, when he's imagining something for himself, he's actually reshaping HIS OWN past to make sure Danny fits within it, in all possible versions of Steve’s past. Steve makes Danny his Everything.

And then we have Danny. Aka The Pessimist™. Danny who was dreaming about Rachel handing him divorce papers the day he married her. Danny who always think someone has died in a terrible way if he doesn't hear from them immediately. Danny who can't think about a single good thing, past present or future, without already imagining all the hundreds possible nightmarish scenarios it can be fucked up. By himself truly, mostly.

So yes. Danny plans A LOT in his future. All bad, anxiety-fueled things, mostly. That's because his life has always been a mess of ruining disasters and emotional fuck-ups, mostly (except his job accomplishments, and Danny NEVER questions his job skills), and I know a thing or two about how an already depressed mind, since childhood, can be shaped by continually repeating disasters (or trauma). But he plans.

So, when he's truly free, when he's in his dreamworld where life's rules and life's terms (in Steve’s words) don't matter, when he's pushed on that thin line between life and death and he needs to decide whether to give up and die, because everything hurts and he's doomed to loneliness and heartbreak, or to fight and come back because he still has time, because he still has something good he can build, he chooses. He chooses hope and he chooses future, against all odds. He does because STEVE IS HIS FUTURE, too, and he can't imagine letting Steve go alone in this future.

Because Danny might be terrified of future, but he knows Steve would simply vanish in it. And if there's something Danny Williams has always done his entire life, no matter the fear or the depression or the pessimism, is fighting for those he loves. Fighting to protect those he loves. So, in my opinion, Danny’s dream tells us very little about his need to be in control for once in his existence, and much more about his inner protector core.

More pics from H50 episode 8.10

Danny and Steve aged well.

Steve: “You’re the best thing ever happened to me.”

Danny: “Aside from arthritis and prostate issues, I know.”

Steve (sighs): “Danno, you’re the only constant in my life. Glad, you didn’t change.”

[lovegoodlane]

Pursuing the Prefect - 5

4.5k words

18+ only

Warnings: smut, oral sex [female receiving], face sitting, vaginal sex, teasing

Summary: Fred and his prefect take their relationship to a new level (soft Fred, dom Fred, soft top Fred)

A/N: The moment you have all been waiting for....I'll probably write one last part to finish everything off. My requests are open, so let me know what to write next!

Link to part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

—— Fred held your hand the entire way up to his dormitory. Neither of you spoke. A comfortable silence rested between you as you hustled up the final staircase that led to his room.

Fred opened the door for you, muttering "lumos" to light a lamp on a desk that was pushed in the corner. He turned to you, taking your other hand. 

"You're absolutely cracking, you know that?" he said, a smile on his lips. You returned the smile, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"I am actually aware of that, thank you," you replied, teasing him.

"You put Pucey in his place," he said. "Remind me to not get on your bad side."

"You've been on my bad side before, and I think you actually quite enjoyed it," you joked, shoving at his chest. 

"You are bloody hot when you're angry," Fred replied, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips at you in mock consideration.

"Oh, shove off," you laughed, heading toward his bed and throwing yourself onto it. "After that big scene, I think I need a nap."

Fred walked over to where you were face down in his pillows. He spanked your butt lightly.

"Come on, birdie, you can't take up the whole bed," he complained, running a hand down your butt and onto the backs of your thighs.

"Fine," you grumbled in fake frustration, rolling over to make room for Fred in his own bed.

Fred joined you in the bed, rolling you onto your side so you could cuddle into his chest. He stroked your hair, giving you a kiss on the forehead.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked, still stroking your hair.

"Anything," you replied, nuzzling your head into his chest.

"I really like you," he said, suddenly sounding very serious.

Your hand played with the neckline of his t shirt as you considered your response. Now didn't feel like the best moment to crack a joke.

"I like you too, Fred," you answered. 

"No, I mean..." Fred stumbled over his words. He rolled onto his side so he could look you in the eye. "I know what my reputation is like with girls. I don't date anyone very seriously and I just like hooking up. But that's not what this is, birdie. I feel serious about you."

"Oh," was all you could think to say as he continued to stare into your eyes. This was giving you flashbacks to conversations with Adrian where he was insistent on planning your future together. 

"You told me that Pucey wanted to get serious too quickly, and that's not what I'm trying to do," he said, seeming to read your mind and sense your worries. "We have all the time in the world. But I need you to know that I feel that way."

"Fred...." you were still having a hard time finding the right thing to say. Nothing came to mind. 

"I realized today that going even just a day without speaking to you feels like torture," he admitted. "I'm sorry for reacting that way, and I'm sorry for how it made you feel. You're my favorite person to talk to and spend time with. I won't ever ignore you like that again."

You reached your hand up to cup his cheek. Your mind went back to the conversation that you had with Beatrice at the Three Broomsticks, admitting to how deep your feelings went for Fred. He was spilling his feelings, but it still felt so difficult to admit to your own.

Fred's hand found your waist, rubbing his thumb against the fabric of your shirt. It's almost like he was trying to beckon the words out of you.

"I...Godric, Freddie, I'm not good at this," you said, letting out an awkward chuckle. 

"Take your time, darling," he soothed, squeezing your waist in reassurance.

"I really like you too," you finally said. "I think....I think that you're really good for me. You tease me about being the perfect prefect, but that's what I have been ever since I got to Hogwarts. And being that way is actually quite boring."

Both you and Fred chuckled at that admission.

"But you make me try new things. And I feel spontaneous for the first time. Instead of being controlled by getting good marks and being the best student, you have helped me take initiative of my own life," you said. "I adore you and I am learning to adore the person that I am when I'm with you."

Fred's eyes were still locked on yours. The sentimental softness that you loved returned to his eyes, and he leaned forward to kiss you on the lips.

It was sweet and gentle. Only a few kisses before he pulled away. 

"You inspire me to want to do my homework," Fred teased, tickling your side.

You laughed, grabbing at his hand. "You improve me, I improve you."

You pushed him over onto his back and nuzzled into his chest, his hand snaking around your back to pull you in closer. You laid like this for a while, listening to each other's quiet heartbeats and enjoying each other's touch. 

"Freddie?" you said quietly.

"Yes, birdie?" he replied, rubbing your back with his hand.

"I'm ready," you said, sounding shy.

"Ready for what?" he asked, somewhat confused.

"I'm...I'm ready to have sex. Whenever you are, of course," you fumbled over your words a bit awkwardly, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

You tried to bury your face into Fred's neck, but he refused to let you. He knew that you were flustered.

"Darling, you don't have to feel embarrassed," he said, grabbing your jaw to turn you to look at him. "Thank you for telling me."

He placed a light kiss on the tip of your nose before releasing your jaw. 

"I'm going to put on pajamas, I can't lay in bed with jeans on. Feels like a crime," Fred said, getting up from the bed.

He crossed the room to his dresser, pulling open the bottom drawer and grabbing pajamas from it before closing it. You were still turned onto your side on the bed, giving you a perfect view of Fred across the room.

He pulled his t shirt over his head, throwing it onto the floor next to him. You had never seen him shirtless before.

In the dim light of the dormitory, you could make out his chiseled figure. Years of quidditch had made him strong and lean, and your cheeks flushed as you realized that you were checking him out.

"Enjoying the show, birdie?" he teased, picking up his abandoned shirt from the floor and tossing it at you.

This made you blush even harder. You sat up on the bed, pondering your next move.

You watched as he undid his belt and trousers, throwing his trousers into a laundry bin before reaching for the pair of pajama pants that he had retrieved from the drawer. He pulled them on, turning to where you were sat on the bed. 

"Everything alright, darling?" he asked, confused by your silence and empty expression.

You had been chewing on your lower lip, trying to muster up the courage for what you were about to do. You scooted to the edge of the bed, putting your feet on the floor. 

You crossed the room to where Fred was still standing. You kissed him on the lips only once, leaving him even more confused.

You pulled your own t shirt up and off, tossing it away. Fred's eyebrows raised as he took in the sight of you before him.

This time, you came prepared. You were wearing a deep blue bra with black lacing along the straps. It was the sexiest thing that you owned, and you had a feeling that Fred was going to see it tonight.

"House colors, how appropriate," Fred teased, ghosting his fingers along your sides and up your back. 

Your heart was already racing and he had barely even touched you. You were nervous, but you were ready. You wanted this. 

You dared to reach out to touch him, running your nails down his sides. You stopped at the waistband of his pajama pants, gripping them and tugging him closer to you.

He chuckled, enjoying your boldness. You kissed him again, your hands trailing back up his sides and to his muscular shoulders. 

He let you take control, keeping his hands politely at the middle of your back as yours roamed around his bare shoulders. You pushed him back, pulling away once again.

You fumbled with the button of your jeans. "Want to borrow a pair of pajamas?" Fred teased, watching you struggle.

"No, Fred," you replied, rolling your eyes at him. You had finally gotten the button free, undoing the zipper and starting to pull your jeans down your legs. "I want you."

Fred waited patiently for you to step out of your jeans before he picked you up. You giggled, wrapping your legs around his middle while he carried you back to the bed.

He held you for a moment, planting wet kisses along your jawline before setting you onto the bed. He attacked your lips next, his teeth biting at your lower lip while his hands ran along your thighs.

You dug your nails into his back, trailing down toward his waistband once again. You pulled at it, signaling to him that he should take the pajamas off. Fred paused his mission for a moment to take off his pants, immediately returning to your mouth. 

You pulled away, grabbing at Fred's shoulders. "Lay down," you commanded.

Fred listened, laying down on the bed. You positioned yourself over him, one thigh on either side of his middle. 

He was loving this view. You had been intimate before, but not quite like this. You were in only your bra and knickers, a smirk on your mouth as you loomed over him. He couldn't think of anything in the whole world that could be sexier.

You left hot kisses along his jaw and down his neck, bringing up one hand to grip the other side of his neck. Your kisses continued down to his collarbones where you sucked a number of love bites into his skin. It was payback for what he usually did to you.

Fred's hands ran up and down your back, playing with the clasp of your bra as he decided whether or not to take it off. He didn't want to rush you, but he had been dying to get a bra off of you for a long time.

You finally gripped one of his hands that was on your back, stopping it. "You can take it off," you whispered, reassuring him.

You released his hand, allowing him to undo the clasp. He reached for the straps, pulling them down your arms as he removed your bra.

Fred bit his lip. He ran his thumbs underneath your breasts, gripping your ribcage with his hands. He sat up, giving you a kiss on the lips before kissing along the tops of your breasts.

It took only moments for him to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. Your nails dug into his shoulders in response, a whimper falling from your lips. 

He bit and sucked at one nipple and used his fingers to play with the other. All you could do was run your nails up and down his back while you moaned out his name.

"Mmm...so beautiful," he spoke into your skin as he switched his mouth to your other nipple.

Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling at it to distract yourself from what Fred was doing to you. You began to grind your hips into his, becoming desperate for more friction.

"So needy, huh?" Fred commented, releasing your nipple from his mouth and kissing along your ribs. 

Your hips ground down even harder, begging for contact. You could feel how hard he was through his underwear, and you knew he wanted this too. But Fred was playing the long game.

His fingers danced down to your knickers. "Can I make you feel good, darling?" he asked, looking up into your eyes.

You nodded at him, your words caught in your throat. Fred lifted you off of him for a moment so he could remove your knickers. He laid back down on the bed, a grin on his face.

"Why don't you come sit on my face?" he said, his thumbs rubbing circles into your hips. 

Your cheeks flushed. This was something you had never done before. It seemed impractical and potentially even dangerous.

"I don't know, Fred," you said, feeling shy. "I don't want to hurt you."

Fred moved one hand up to your cheek. "Darling, I promise that it won't hurt me. Now that I think about it, suffocating between your thighs wouldn't be the worst way to go."

He smirked at you. You slapped at his chest. "Get off it, Fred," you chastised, a small smile playing at your own mouth.

"How about we give it a try and you can stop if you don't like it?" Fred proposed, squeezing your hip. 

"Okay," you agreed hesitantly, feeling deeply self conscious.

You placed your hands on his chest, slowly moving yourself up his middle. You weren't exactly sure how to do this.

"How do I—" you began to ask before Fred gripped your hips, picking you up and settling you over his face.

"I guess that'll do it," you chuckled nervously, your hands finding the headboard of Fred's bed.

"Tell me if you want to stop," Fred said. You could feel him breathing on your core, making you shiver.

He pulled your hips down, your core meeting his mouth. You were holding your breath. His tongue darted out, immediately finding your clit. It seemed like he already had your body memorized, knowing exactly how to make you feel good. 

Your hands gripped at the headboard as Fred's tongue increased its pace. Your entire body felt hot, and you tried to keep yourself from grinding your hips down into his mouth. 

Fred angled your hips forward, allowing him to drag his tongue down to your entrance. His fingers dug into your hips as he fucked you with his tongue, making you feel like you were going to scream.

"Just like that, Freddie," you encouraged, finally finding your voice.

You allowed yourself to grind your hips down ever so slightly, and Fred responded with a groan. He squeezed your hips tighter, encouraging you to continue.

Fred's mouth found its way back up to your clit, sucking it into his mouth as you ground your hips into him. You were so close to your release.

"Fred—ahh, don't stop," you cried out, holding onto the headboard for dear life. 

You only needed a few more moments before you reached your orgasm, whimpering out Fred's name as your hips trembled. He pulled you from his mouth, laying you onto the bed on your back as he hovered above you. 

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he said, kissing up your jaw and to your lips.

You stayed like this for a few minutes, kissing Fred as you were still feeling the glow of your orgasm. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him in as close as you could.

You pulled out of the kiss, bringing a hand up to ruffle his hair. You smirked at him.

"I think it's your turn now," you said, using your other hand to ghost down his chest toward his boxers. You reached the waistband and pulled at it, letting it slap back against his skin.

"Birdie, tonight is about you," Fred said, placing kisses along your neck.

The hand you had at his waistband continued down, your thumb teasing him over his boxers. If you thought he was hard before, he was definitely hard now. You imagined that it almost had to be painful. 

You suddenly felt bold, gripping Fred over the fabric of his boxers. His breath stuttered.

"I want you, Freddie," you whispered, trying to play up your innocence. He stopped kissing your neck, reeling back to look you in the eye.

"Are you absolutely certain?" Fred asked, his eyes soft. He was more than willing to wait. You were worth it.

"One hundred percent," you answered, pecking him on the lips. You felt a nervous pit in your stomach, but it wasn't the bad kind. It felt more like anticipation. 

"If you ever want to stop—" Fred started, but you brought a finger up his lips to shush him. 

"Freddie, I won't want you to stop," you said, your eyes intense. 

That was all the permission he needed before he started kissing your lips again, this time seeming more desperate. He reached for one of the pillows behind your head, breaking the kiss as he pulled you up off of the bed and put the pillow under your hips.

You looked at him, a bit confused. He smirked. "Darling, I know a thing or two," he answered, placing a kiss on your knee.

He pulled his boxers off, tossing them to the side before he found his place between your legs again. Your hands were folded on your bare stomach as you waited for him to do something.

He reached for your hands, holding them in his. He noticed that you were shaking just slightly.

"We don't have to do this," he whispered, reassuring you.

"Fred, I want to," you insisted. "It's just nerves. It's been a while."

You chuckled, trying to dispel any anxiety you had.

"Okay," he said, placing a kiss on each of your wrists. "Stop me if it hurts."

You nodded. Fred released your hands, using his own to trace a path up your outer thighs. He gripped the backs of your knees, pulling your legs up just slightly.

You felt his tip as he aligned himself with your entrance. Your heart was pounding in your chest. Fred eased himself in slowly, releasing a breath that you didn't realize he was holding. 

You felt a familiar burn as he got deeper, stretching you to accommodate his size. Fred grabbed your hands, placing them up next to your head. 

He held your hands as he rocked into you slowly, kissing gently along your collarbone. He pulled back to look you in the eye.

"Alright, birdie?" he asked, his words sounding strained. You knew that he was holding himself back for your sake. Everything he did was for your benefit. 

You nodded. "Keep going," you said.

He kissed you on the forehead. He met your eyes again as he pushed into you, this time all the way. Fred choked out a groan, feeling the pleasure of finally bottoming out into you.

Fred kissed you on the lips before releasing your hands. He traced a path down your sides and back to your thighs, pushing your knees closer to your chest.

He was still moving slowly, trying not to hurt you. But you didn't care if you were sore in the morning, you wanted more.

"Fred?" you said quietly.

He stopped moving. "Yes, darling?" he answered, concern laced in his voice.

"Harder," you said, bringing your hands to his back. You traced his muscles with your nails.

He smirked at you, not expecting this response. "Careful what you wish for," he muttered, gripping your thighs even harder.

Fred picked up his pace, pushing into you harder than he had before. Your nails dug into his back, begging him for more.

"More, Freddie, more," you whined.

Fred pulled almost all the way out of you before slamming back into you again. You cried out, arching your back off of the bed.

Fred was fucking you even faster now, hitting the deepest spot in you each time. You were basically clawing at his back now, and you knew that there would be marks left behind.

"You feel so good, birdie," he said, pounding into you. "So tight. Such a good girl."

You whimpered at his words, feeling another orgasm building. Fred brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing it as he continued to fuck you mercilessly.

"Are you going to finish again for me darling?" he asked. "Come on gorgeous, finish for me. Right on my cock. Be a good girl."

As if his actions weren't enough, Fred's words sent you over the edge. You orgasmed for the second time that night, crying out as Fred continued to hit the perfect spot inside of you.

He slowed down, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it. He worked you down from your high, slowly pulling out of you.

"So perfect," he commented, kissing your hand again before putting it back down on the bed.

You laid there for a moment in a daze, feeling like you were unable to move after that second orgasm. Fred knew exactly what to do to make you finish, and it blew your mind every time. 

You finally got your wits about you. "Fred, you didn't finish," you said, sounding a tad offended.

He chuckled. "Not your fault. I could go all night, darling."

You gripped his arms. "Then keep going," you said, looking at him.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said, stroking the outside of your thigh with his hand.

"Fred, it doesn't hurt. I want you to keep going," you insisted.

"It might not hurt now, but you're going to be sore tomorrow morning," he replied, meeting your gaze. "I can finish myself off. I already told you that tonight is about you."

You huffed. "If tonight was really about me, you would keep fucking me," you asserted, narrowing your eyes at him.

He smirked at you for what felt like the millionth time that night. "Okay, bossy. I guess I have to listen to the prefect when she orders me around," he teased. 

"Less talking, more fucking," you shot back at him. 

He chuckled. "My lips are sealed," he replied.

Fred turned you over onto your side, pulling your knees up so they were close to your chest. He slid into you again, this time finding less resistance. 

He worked in and out of you slowly, driving you absolutely insane. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was enjoying your impatience.

"Frederick Weasley, you can do better than that," you said, your voice snippy.

He shrugged in response. Apparently he was taking his vow of silence seriously. 

He increased his pace ever so slightly, pushing your knees up even higher to hit a better angle. You cried out as he hit the perfect spot, desperate for him to do it again.

But that was part of his game. He pushed into you just barely deep enough, not hitting the spot again. He smirked at himself, proud of his work.

"Fred, I will curse you into next week if you don't knock it off," you said, becoming irritated.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Fred replied, feigning innocence.

"Do I really need to do everything myself?" you shot back.

"All you have to do is ask nicely," Fred said, still thrusting into you slowly. 

"Fuck off," you said, determined not to give in to what he wanted. 

"If you insist," he said, pulling out of you. 

It was a battle of the wills. Both of you were stubborn. But he wanted to make you give in.

"Fine," you huffed, exasperated. "Please?"

Fred chuckled. "You can do better than that."

You bit your lip, trying to step past your pride. "Please, Freddie. I want you," you said, sounding much more sincere this time.

"See birdie, it's not that difficult," Fred said, turning you over onto your stomach. He pushed your chest down and your bottom up, forcing you to arch your back.

He lined himself up behind you, his tip at your entrance. His hands squeezed at your sides.

"Are you going to beg for it?" he muttered into your ear.

He had you right where he wanted you. Desperate. Frustrated. He loved making the prefect beg.

"Please," you said once again, sounding even more desperate this time.

"Mmmm....not convincing enough," Fred replied, his hands roving down your sides and to your bottom. 

"Fred, please," you basically whined, trying to push your hips back onto him. If he wasn't going to take care of you, you were going to do it yourself.

"So desperate," Fred chided. "I'm not sure that you really are a good girl after all."

He finally pushed into you, taking you by surprise. He worked in and out of you, picking up speed quicker than he had before. 

"You're a bad girl, huh?" Fred commented, reaching around to grip your throat lightly. "The prefect is a bad, bad girl."

He thrusted into you even harder, finally hitting that spot that drove you crazy. You felt like a mess. You knew that your hair was wild and that you were likely covered in love bites. But you were loving it. 

You whined at Fred, pushing your hips back into him to meet his brutal pace. Fred was starting to lose control as he got closer to his own release, both hands now gripping your hips. There would definitely be bruises there in the morning.

"So close," you cried, gripping at the comforter on Fred's bed.

"Finish for me again, birdie. You can do it, love," Fred encouraged. "Merlin, you feel so good. Made just for me."

You were so sensitive after two orgasms that a third felt like it might kill you. Your vision began to get spotty, and you knew that you were going to finish any second now.

You finally reached your third high of the night, arching your back even harder and pushing back towards Fred. He continued fucking you, moments from his own release.

"Fuck, birdie, so perfect," Fred breathed out. "You're going to make me bust."

It seemed like he was almost asking for permission. How polite. 

"Inside of me," you demanded, sounding exhausted from your third orgasm.

Fred groaned, keeping up his pace as he finally reached his release. He finished inside of you, his hips slowing down and stuttering. 

He massaged your hips, pushing into you a few more times before pulling out. "Sorry, darling, didn't mean to hurt you," he said, referring to the bruises that were already starting to form where he had dug his hands into your hips. 

He flopped onto his back, pulling you into his chest. You felt paralyzed once more, your body still coming down from the adrenaline rush of another orgasm.

Fred kissed your forehead, snuggling you in even closer to him. "Was that too much?" he asked, sounding concerned.

You laid there in silence, still speechless. You nuzzled your head into his neck, giving him a kiss. "It was perfect," you finally said.

He chuckled. "I'm glad," he answered, rubbing your back.

"Same time next week?" you teased, running your nails up and down his abs.

"Whenever you want," he replied, squeezing you in tight. 

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

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54 for ⛅️

---

“Of course you can stay. It’s… I mean, always. Whenever.” 

“As long as it doesn’t put you out,” Buck says. He doesn’t want Chris falling behind in school because he and Eddie are bumbling their way through this fantasy future. 

“Maybe someone can drive me to get my computer tomorrow, and then I can do some work,” Chris shrugs. “But I think you’re gonna need me…”

He looks at Nico nervously.

“Need you for?” Buck asks. 

“Family dinner tomorrow,” Chris says. “I was gonna sit this one out because of school, but… I mean, it’s your turn to host.”

“Family dinner,” Eddie repeats neutrally. But Buck can see the terror in his eyes. 

“With Grandpa!” Nico cheers, hardly noticing his fathers’ confusion. 

Buck and Eddie look at each other, panicked. Grandpa? For fuck’s sake. Which of their fathers is in town? That is the last thing Buck wants to deal with right now.

“Uh huh,” Chris confirms. “Grandpa Bobby.” 

Buck’s jaw drops. 

“Yeah, okay,�� Eddie says. “We’re going to need your help.”

🌤️

Eventually, they put on an old Christmas movie for Nico in the living room, while Buck scours the fridge and cupboards to see what he could possibly make to host a dinner tomorrow. He has no idea what he would have been planning. He’ll have to improvise. 

“How many people are coming to this thing?” Eddie asks Chris as Buck searches for inspiration.

“Uh, nine?” Chris says. “I think. Not including the four of us.”

“Thirteen people?” Eddie gapes. 

“Yeah, that’s pretty normal,” Chris says. “Although, I guess you don’t know that.”

“No!” Eddie agrees. “No, I do not.”

“Now that almost all of you have left the 118-”

“WHAT?” Buck demands, turning so hard to look at Chris he bumps his head on the open fridge door.

Chris winces. “Yeah, sorry. Just two of you still there.”

“Who?” Eddie asks. 

“You and Hen,” Chris says. 

“Where am I?” Buck asks. “Where are Chim and Bobby?”

---

54 for ⚡️

---

Here he is, brain spinning about all the things that could go wrong to a baby who is, at this point, more idea than reality. Meanwhile, Bobby has lost children he loved for years. Who should be adults now. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck says. 

“For what?” Bobby asks. 

Buck shrugs. “I’ll probably have a bunch of stupid little panics about things… And here you are… You’ve actually been through it.”

Bobby frowns. “And yet, I still worry about you, May, and Harry all the time. As I’m sure I will worry about… Wait, do you have a name yet?”  

Well, not exactly.

“Uh, we had a boy’s name locked down before we met Lourdes,” Buck says. He’s not going to say what that is. “We have a few options for a girl… But we can’t really pick. We’re going to wait to meet her.”

Currently, Buck is leaning towards Josie. After Pepa - Josephina; who brought them together. 

Bobby nods. “Makes sense. She can tell you.”

Buck smiles, a little nervously. 

“That’s the hope.”

☆☆☆

By the 21st, Eddie is also feeling a little antsy, waiting for the baby. He won’t tell Buck though. Because if he does, then Buck will only get more anxious. It’s up to Eddie to mitigate that anxiety. Marital duty or whatever. But he won’t say the whole thing doesn’t have his brain moving sort of constantly. 

So constantly, in fact, that he does blurt something out over breakfast. Just not something Buck - or even Eddie, to be honest - is expecting. 

“I want to take a longer leave,” Eddie says suddenly. 

Buck, midway through swallowing a sip of smoothie, pauses. 

“Sorry, that came out of nowhere,” Eddie says. 

Buck finishes his sip, then shakes his head. 

“No, no that’s okay,” he says. “I just thought we had it all sorted?” And they did. They do. They each get eight paid weeks of the leave. The plan was to do the first two weeks together, then to each do six separately. That would give fourteen weeks. Then she’d go to the LAFD childcare center while they worked, or Carla - and sometimes Maddie, who offered - would pick her up when possible. And that’s alright with Eddie. It’s fine. He just… He’d like to do more. Stay with her longer. He knows Buck does, too. They’d both love a proper parental leave like they might get in another country. But they don’t live in another country, they live here.

---

54 for 🧜‍♂️

---

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, wobbling a little in the water. “I’m really sorry I reacted that way. This is just… This is just not what I was expecting.”

“Well, what were you expecting?” Buck demands. 

Eddie’s expression is sort of helpless. Maybe Buck should cut him a break. Who would naturally guess mermaid if they weren’t one? It’s just… Buck really believed him when he said they were the same.

Eddie steps back a little bit. “Uh, that you and I would be… The same?”

Yeah. That’s what Buck is saying, too. 

 “What does that mean, uh, for you?” Buck asks. Because now he’s genuinely curious. 

“Uh…” Eddie goes a little pale. He takes another step back. “I-I… It doesn’t matter. You’re not… So it doesn’t matter.” 

“Oh, come on!” Buck blurts, exasperated. He feels his tail squirm without his permission. His skin kind of itches up his back and abdomen. “You could get me shipped off to SeaWorld and you won’t even tell me your deal? What could be scarier than this?” 

Eddie’s face sort of crumples. 

Buck is alarmed. “Eddie? Hey, come on… Are you… I mean, are you in trouble?”

“I don’t tell people,” Eddie says. “It’s not… It’s not safe to… It never ends well.”

Damn. He looks like he’s genuinely going to be sick. 

“You were going to tell me,” Buck reminds him, gently. “Or, you thought you did. Am I less trustworthy now?”

Eddie considers this. “No. I guess you’re not.”

“I guess you don’t have to tell me,” Buck says. “But, you know, it’d be nice if you did… Since you kind of… Know this about me. And I’ve literally never told anyone.” 

Eddie takes a deep breath. 

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 60

Wow we really made it 60 days huh?

Okay so i’m not gonna yap long for this part. You saw the image, you see the read under. This is a small comic adaptation of @vanadisvalentine’s “Everything You’ve Ever Dreamed” fanfic. And it adapts the end of Chapter 4 which is pretty fuckin pivotal in that story. So if you haven’t read that fic yet I’m actually begging you, please read it and don’t let this comic be your first experience.

Second warning, this is going to be a long one. How long? Who knows. I haven’t written it yet, but this Day represents one of the biggest turning points in the whole project for me. 

When you click the read under you’re gonna get just the comic, and then you're gonna get hit with a gigantic fucking wall of text. I apologize in advance for the amount of rambling I’m about to do but I got a lot to say here.

Okay so you read the comic, you ready? Cause not only am I gonna yap about making that comic along with all the behind the scenes stuff, (amidst other tangents), but I’m also going to talk about the fic this is based on. This is probably going to feel a bit disorganized but i’ll try my best to keep this legible. Apologies in advance.

So your first thought is probably “Jem why the fuck did you do that?” and you’re correct for thinking that way. Rest assured, you’re going to ask that question again later but significantly louder and more exasperated in the future. 

Answer is simple though. I wanted to do something big for Number 60, cause every 10 images I wanna do something Big. For Number 50 I came out of retirement and wrote a fanfic and some art to go with it. So I wanted to go up. How do i go up? Well I am a comic artist, and making a webcomic is my general goal in life and what directs me forward. Sooo, why not a comic?

Okay but a comic of what? Well, why not a fanfic? And at the time the real answer was obvious.

There are Three Fanfics made for Junkan that are pivotal to this entire event. Without all three of them combined ya’ll would not be having Junkan art pop up in your feed every day, questioning what the hell is in my bloodstream to make me draw all this. The answer is Junkan, junkan is in my bloodstream.

I plan to talk about all three of those fics in this event, in as much detail as I can muster. That said not only are we going in reverse order, as todays fic “Everything You’ve Ever Dreamed” is the last piece of the puzzle for why I went off the deep end and drew this much Junkan. But also the other two fics aren’t gonna be discussed for a long time due to their placement in the event order. I’m talking within the last ten days. Oops.

But at the time it was, pretty fucking easy to choose this one to adapt. The other two either wouldn’t really fit my style that I had been working with up to that point, or were just not made to be a comic without way more energy.

And as a reminder this was before I had actually gotten to know some of ya’ll. Within the realm of Junkan Val was the only friend I had. I did have other people who liked DR and were on board with Junkan after I showed them my supply and stated my case, but Val was the only person I knew at the time who was as brainrotted for this ship as I am, granted I think she has like, a normal amount of brainrot. I think by the end of the project I’ve fully snapped and now I can’t stop thinking about these two, like I have actually tried to stop thinking about them but they keep popping up. What was I talking about- Right! Point is, you can consider Day 60, or as I would call it in casual conversation “The 22 Page Junkan Comic,” my most excessive thankyou to her for helping me stay motivated throughout the project and playing a massive part in its inspiration.

As for making the comic.

It was a very bold mix of “I’m having the time of my life” and “Hell,” that's the shortest way I could put it. The longest way? Wellll

So by this point I wasn’t just showing these pics to Val alone. I had a few friends even before Val who I showed the art too. I’d get compliments and feedback and all that nice stuff that keeps me going.

As I’ve stated in the past (i think) one of the hardest parts of this project for me was the lack of validation for my efforts. I do not make art purely to be complimented, I make art in order to hopefully bring a smile to someones face. However I do still take a lot of joy when I see my art being positively received, it shows that my efforts were worth it. Seeing peoples reactions helps me remember why I’m doing this and that I’m doing a good job at it. So if I  don’t get a lot of that, especially on something i put a lot of effort into, it can be a little demoralizing. It’s something I’ve tried to work past during this year, but at the time it was a big issue. Day 60 took around 2 weeks to finish, as I was managing other projects and commission work at the time. The whole time I barely showed anyone, Val was obvious because this was a surprise gift for her, however the rest is because I was very adamant about not spoiling the Fic it was based on, and say for a single person amidst the people I would show these pics to none of them had read the fic. So I went from showing a small handful of people these to showing one guy (admittedly one of my best friends) for the span of 2 weeks while grinding away at the comic. It wasn’t until the very tail end that my girlfriend surprised me by reading the fic, meaning I could show her as well finally. 

Was it worth starving myself of a majority of positive feedback for 2 weeks when I haven’t had to do something like that for years? Oh god yes but we’re not there yet I still need to talk about the actual comic.

So when you compare the fic to the comic you’ll notice I skipped a decent portion of this scene, this is mostly just for the sake of not making this take too long, I think I picked a pretty solid starting point but also I won’t lie and say there isn’t a part of me that wishes I took like an extra week or two to adapt the whole scene sometimes. Sometimes.

Mukuro acted as the pseudo cover for the comic, both because it was a small detail noted in the scene that she was watching the door, and because I could call back to the “Mukuro Notes” bit I did on the Vampire Junkan comic, which seemed like a cute call back. I also used this as a way to skip past some of the initial dialogue of the scene in terms of adaptation. I’m really happy with how this page turned out visually, I remember having to fiddle with Mukuro’s anatomy and smaller details for awhile.

As you can probably tell, like usual the art for this was still being done as a sketch which I colored rather than what I do in my usual comic stuff, that being Sketch > Lines > Colors > Shading. I did shade a few of these pages cause I think the extra effort was warranted for some pages. I wouldn’t know this without like, actually time traveling to check but I think there was even a time this would be just uncolored sketches. Clearly that didn’t last because yeah, the chick who’s drawing 100 days worth of junkan art is going to make a 22 page comic and NOT color the whole thing, keep telling yourself that Jem.

Once again since I was directly adapting this fic like with Day 20, I tried to be semi accurate in what I assume Junko’s appearance would be, giving her the bunny and bow clips in her hair. I didn’t go all the way since honestly I think i would have gone a little crazy if I drew both characters in their actual Hope’s Peak uniforms for the whole thing, so I mostly stuck to their killing game designs with that small change to Junko. And yes, I did have to edit Junko’s hair to remove the bear clips multiple times throughout the first few pages because I kept forgetting not to draw them. For the first time having these two memorized was a hindrance. 

If you’ve ever seen me draw a Question Mark with a cross instead of a dot when drawing Mikan, it’s cause of this comic. Val said it was a cute detail so I decided to stick with it when applicable.

I think I have read the segment of the story this is based on like, 30 times bare minimum. Now some of those times were just because I often reread this fic to help me relax before sleeping, but the majority are because I kept looking at this scene over and over again so I could try and get every detail of this perfect. The posing, expressions, and other visuals, while a little rough around the edges were all possible after going over every paragraph to get the vibe as close as possible.

The dialogue is word for word, punctuation for punctuation ripped from the fic itself. Mildly difficult to pull off without having to extend certain pages, but in the end I managed to pull it off.

Page 7 is one of my favorite pages from the experience. Originally the visual was supposed to be Junko in literal chains of despair with Mikan coming in with a key to unlock them, however chains are agonizing to draw. Not drawing them was a form of self care, even if I think it would have been a bit of a stronger metaphor. 

Mikan’s expressions were very difficult to get just right in this, which was half the fun. Do you know how fucking satisfying it was to draw her happy crying??? Very.

Page 10 is another one I’m really happy with. I don’t know exactly what the original plan was beyond the fact that I wanted the shot of Mikan reacting to that being a lot more visually extreme for the colors and amount of space it takes up to make it as overwhelming as possible. But I went in reverse  and made the initial heart stop moment of her realizing that Junko just said that more prominent than the rush of emotion hitting her right after.

There were going to be more visuals of Mikan being cute in the following page, however not only was I struggling for ideas but also my energy was fluctuating to hell and back by this point in the comic.

It took awhile to get the initial kiss to look good because by this point I was still really figuring out how the fuck to do that. I can’t remember if I mentioned it but the kiss in the Vampire Comic is one I actually edited after the fact before the post was scheduled because it looked really weird and pissed me off. Luckily this one doesn’t bother me at all. I remember being super paranoid i made the posing look too sexual, I don’t know what the fuck past me was on about but I’m not here to question I’m here to curse you all with knowledge and funfacts.

On page 15 Junko’s blush and smile are a bit more intense compared to the other panels on this page while she wipes away Mikan’s tears. This is because in future stories by Val it is confirmed a few times that Junko has dacryphilia, meaning she thinks Mikan looks really hot when she’s crying. Yes I’m really working in details from other fics into this comic, you should not be surprised this isn’t even the weirdest thing i’ve put in this whole event.

Peak comedy that I mentioned the question mark with the cross dot earlier and on Page 16 I didn’t do that, immersion broken, back to square one Past Jem!

Junko with no contacts!!! I mentioned during one of the Vampire AU days that while I don’t feature it in that AU alone I like the idea of Junko’s real eye color being red. Something I can never remember whether it’s actually canon or just strongly implied. I think this is the page I put the most amount of effort into, both to make it look well lit, and also to make sure her god damn eyes look as pretty as humanly possible. The end result may or may not be my favorite page of the whole comic? I dunno

I said Mikan’s expressions were hard to draw for this since I wanted to get them just right, she requires a lot more work on the smaller details to make everything feel right. Junko however? Oh no I was thriving by this point, her more lowkey expressions do need a bit more thought and effort, but by this point in the comic I was in my element with her. 

But speaking of expressions, Page 19.

That smile on Mikan in the middle panel took 20 fuckin’ minutes because I had never drawn Mikan looking that happy and I had no fucking idea what I was doing. I did actually edit the page last night (as of the writing of this post), however it wasn’t for the expression. In the original version of the page, Junko looked really fuckin weird in the last panel, like I don’t know how I let that slide but her whole face and neck looked way off. These pages aren’t like, perfect quality but that one was just egregious. Also edited Mikan’s blush in that panel just cause I was already there.

Junko’s surprised face was very fun.

And I think if I were gonna ever redo any page in full for this comic it’d be the last one. I don’t think this one looks bad I just know that I could I could do way better nowadays even if I stuck to just coloring a sketch. Maybe sometime down the line.

And that’s the comic itself! I can’t think of any other fun facts or thoughts on the art itself at this point. Uhhhh, I guess the cover I made last minute for this post is technically a reference to a future day? What does that mean? Oh you’ll fuckin’ see.

So 2 weeks of effort with little feedback and rereading the same scene over and over again, was it worth it?

God yes it was.

When I sent Val the Google Drive folder with the comic I was jittery for hours as if I had too much coffee. I was nervous as shit over whether she would like it or not, since this was when I still was a perpetual nervous wreck with very little self respect who was viewing her as “Coolest Person Ever” rather than “That’s bestie.” I was also nervous because it was the first time I actually asked for a more detailed response rather than just letting her respond in whatever way she wanted.

But when she responded?

I have lived the past several years doing weed, I’ve recently quit (i think by the time this posts it’ll be close to 3 months since I went clean), but that’s besides the point. I’ve had mild highs, crazy highs, bad highs, good highs, sad highs, and highs where I don’t feel anything. 

I severely doubt that any drug or vice on this planet will ever match the feeling of reading that response. I was shaking, I bit my knuckles until it left indents for like a full hour minimum, an adrenaline rush doesn’t even begin to describe what I was experiencing. I rode out the happiness from this moment for an entire week, I worked on comm jobs that would normally leave me feeling aggravated as hell and did so with a smile because I was just that fuckin excited over it. This probably sounds embarrassing as shit but there have been times where I go back to read that response when I just need a pick me up.

I had a fuckin epiphany at that moment. Who fuckin cares?

24 fucking years (25 starting tomorrow) I’ve lived my life as a people pleaser perfectionist with extreme paranoia problems with absolutely no self esteem and a whole wealth of other mental health issues. I would feel like dogshit if I halfassed a comm even if it was a really bad one. My whole goal in life was to make a webcomic that would make EVERYONE happy, be a positive part of their week. I was paranoid about pissing off the wrong people, starting shit, how people perceive me, about what ideas for my comic would be problematic or not. But after this? Who gives a shit?

It ain’t about making People Happy it’s about making Yourself Happy and the People you can reach happy. My goal is still to make a webcomic that people will come across, and look forward to every week as an escape to give them some positive vibes every week, but I ain’t gonna do that if I’m desperately trying to appeal to every single person on the planet while trying to stay as uncontroversial as possible. I wanna make art that makes people happy, and if I make it the way I wanna make it then it will eventually reach the people that it can make happy.

But enough of that shit, the actual big thing that happened because of my complete reassessment of my personal values and entire goal for life is that I fucking finally stopped giving a shit about whether people were gonna throw me in a woodchipper because I shipped Junkan. And it will continue to get funnier and funnier that after all the time I spent scared out of my fuckin’ mind over what people would think, that absolutely fucking nothing happened. It is day 49 at the time of writing this and STILL I have not had anyone give me grief or issues over this whole project, nothing but support and even some new friends over it. You cannot write something funnier than that.

I think if I went back in time and told myself at the beginning of the year that her fears were completely unfounded she would bleed out the eyes and pass out, and I would laugh. I’d laugh so fuckin’ hard.

So yeah, this Comic and the reaction it elicited changed my entire perspective on life and being an artist, I can’t say It’s been perfect or that I haven’t faltered on certain things, but  I think to an extent I have been a lot happier as a result. Is it a little weird that this niche version of a niche ship is now directly tied to a drastic change in my mind? Is it any weirder than the fact that I transitioned into a woman because I binge read like, all of the Tokomaru I possibly could on AO3 and it made me think that wearing a skirt might be cool?

Alright so how’re ya'll holdin up? Drink some water we ain’t done. This is already getting up to 7 pages on the google doc that I prepare these posts on and now I have to like, talk about Everything You’ve Ever Dreamed properly. So bare witness to me trying to figure out how the hell to format talking about what might just be my favorite fic of all time.

But first lemme go reread the entire thing, I know the passage of time doesn’t exist in the context of these text walls but i’ll be back in like, a few hours to a day.

Okay i’m back-

I’m honestly not sure where to start here. Normally with my biggest obsessions I could probably go on lengthy rambles about why I love them so much, but this? I struggle to find a proper place to start, or even how to format this. I don’t want to just give a beat for beat plot synopsis while talking about the things I like, but also how do I talk about something this good otherwise.

So fair warning this might be completely incoherent at points, sorry??

This was not like, the third Junkan fic I ever read despite it being one of the three fics vital to me becoming the inhuman machine of pure Junkan brainrot that I’ve become today. A lot of things are blurred but if I remember right the exact timeline of events was Read a cute Junkan fic which made me think “Wait this ship can be soft and cute???” and then I read Smile by Kayleen, which is funny in hindsight because I really went to tooth rotting fluff to one of the darkest Non-Abusive Junkan fics out there (dark by my standards at least and I think my frame of reference is out of sorts). I think after that I just stopped for awhile, partially because Smile wasn’t finished at the time, partially because I still wasn’t sure how to navigate the Junkan tag to find what I was looking for in the ship.

Smile comes to a thrilling conclusion and I think to myself “maybe this author has more?” which is how I found Kayleen’s series of One-Shots for these two (along with separate three other pieces), I read through those in a day and would continue to check the tag to see if it updated, like, every day.  Eventually after a couple months (possibly way longer), something came over me and I finally started seriously looking over the tag to try and find more Soft Junkan, whether there were others I read before it or not, I honestly can’t remember. 

What I do remember is I came across “The Marvelous Makeover of Mikan Tsumiki” by VanadisValentine. I don’t know how I found that before the fic of today’s subject, if I had to guess I wasn’t reading the tags first on this run through. I was likely reading the name of the fic, and THEN i read the tags to see if it has what I was looking for (I wasn’t a starving animal for the ship by this point so I was a lot more picky with what I was willing to risk my time on). And this fic’s name was slightly more eye catching for me at the time I guess??

Fun fact when I first read this fic I wasn’t even sure if it actually was a shipping piece at first, not until finishing it at least. How? Poor reading comprehension is my only guess lol. Anyway, I finish that, loved it, and made my usual move of checking to see if the author had written anything else like this fic, and oh boy did she. 

This finally brings us to me finally reading “Everything You’ve Ever Dreamed.” Took us fucking long enough.

It was perfect, it was everything. I fucking loved reading it the entire time. It had everything I could have wanted out of this ship without me even realizing what I wanted at the time. The weirdest part that my immediate response after wasn’t to go on an adrenaline fueled binge of the tag like I did for Tokomaru way back when I first got into Danganronpa. The most I did was read the other Junkan fics in Val’s library at the time. Otherwise I just stopped again. 

It was then that I drew the first three days of this event, the original sketches. I kept them a secret between myself and a small few friends, too paranoid to let anyone find out. And things just kinda stayed like that, for awhile. And then sometime in December, of last year I decided to give that same fic another read, and something just kinda, fucking snapped?

I went up and down the Junkan Tag on AO3, reading whatever I could, I was reading stuff I wouldn’t have ever risked reading with variable amounts of success. I only skipped a small handful of fics, including one that we’ll come back to way later in the project. Everything else I was scraping even the smallest crumb of fic to read at times. After that I scoured the tumblr tags, taking in whatever soft art or headcanons that I could, I went to Fanfiction.net, a website I still barely know how to fuckin’ navigate to try and find ANYTHING. I went to Deviantart to try and find any art or fics, no results not helped by the fact that it would include results that were slightly related. And not to sound like a Youtuber with no personality who’s built their career on punching down at whoever they can because otherwise their audience would see they’re a complete shell of a human being, but it being deviantart you can imagine what I was finding more often on that search. 

I even went to Wattpad, and that ones it’s own mini story that I’m saving for Tomorrow because the art for Tomorrow doesn’t have a lot of talking points on it’s own like this one does. But Wattpad had no fuckin results either.

I cannot remember the last time I had ever been this obsessed with a ship, this desperate. So, 100 Days of Junkan began, even if it wasn’t planned to be this big project. All cause of this fic turning a switch in my brain with a hammer.

Hey look we’re talking about the fic again, I told you this was gonna incoherent.

Anyway so the fic is just, perfect? To me at least? Before I had even realized why I liked the ship in the first place it did everything that I love about it at it’s core. It practically set the standard for the ship in my brain, at bare minimum within the context of a Non-Despair AU. And overtime as Val’s continued to write for these two her portrayals of the character are practically just how I view them at this point.

It’s not 1 to 1 but you can likely trace every aspect of how I portray Junko and Mikan whether through art or writing back to Val’s writing, down to even using certain pet names for the characters because of their usage in her work. I’d worry that I’m being way too much, heaping an overbearing amount of praise and respect. But also this fic unintentionally sent me careening into the direction of drawing 150+ Junkan pictures, learning various new skills and techniques as an artist, rekindled my love of writing (despite the horrors of actually having to write), making new friends both in and out of this community including some who I consider close, coping with mental health issues, and then performing this gigantic project at the tail end of the year. So I might actually be underselling this a bit in actuality. And don’t worry when I get to talking about a few other fics later in the project I’ll be doing my best to give equal praise to them as well, it’s just gonna be a bit sdlahfljasdfhas.

I’ve already said it but the fic has everything, at least of the core reasons I love this ship from the non-abusive perspective that this blog has built its foundation on.

To me I love Junkan because it’s two people that could not be anymore different from one another, who arguably should despise one another finding happiness in each other. It adds a new layer of depth to Junko to ponder how someone like her, whether in canon or in a non-despair AU like this could fall in genuine love with a total wreck like Mikan and how that would affect her character. It’s fluffy moments of Mikan getting to be genuinely happy for what might be the first time in her life while Junko showers her with affection. It’s Junko being fucking hilarious while Mikan can barely keep up with her humor and teasing because she’s so flustered. It’s Junko grappling with newfound emotions. It’s Junko and Mikan bringing out the best in each other and inciting positive change through their influence. It’s that perfect blend of hurt/comfort. And so much more beyond that, all contained in this one god damn fic. I might even be forgetting things I like about the ship too, there’s just so much that goes into this!

Obviously this is all specifically in a Non-Despair context, the Evil Girlfriends angle has a myriad of other reasons to enjoy the ship which I’ve become fond of. Especially in some of the parallels it can have with a non-Toxic Yuri angle of things. But that doesn’t really apply for today’s subject and I’m not someone who’s deeply knowledgeable or equipped to sing its praises at the moment. Maybe in the future though?

Is there anything else I can yammer on about with this fic? Uhhhh- Oh. I love how it uses the supporting cast. I think Val has a really excellent grasp on how to write Mukuro and Junko’s dynamic without dipping into the territory of DR3 where it just gets a bit uncomfortable. I think that’s better exemplified in one of her other fics rather than this story, but I still do love Mukuro’s portrayal and role in the story. This was my first time learning who Yasuke was, I hadn’t properly heard of Danganronpa Zero by this point so I was really confused as to who the hell he was. Certainly left a strong impression in the story though. I think Kaede’s sudden appearance and role in the plot progressing towards the stunning climax of Chapter 4 was really good! 

I very often go back to Chapter 1, 4, and 5 whenever I need to go to relax before bed. I’ve reread this fic multiple times as a whole but an absolute fuck ton of times as separated pieces, they’re so god damn soothing on my mind. 

The fact that I haven’t left giant fuckin’ comments on any chapter of that fic is quite frankly one of my deepest sins, but one of these days I’m gonna buckle down and write up on those because they deserve every ounce of praise in my scrawny lil whitegirl body. 

I think I’ve said everything I can for now but even now I feel like I haven’t gotten across how much I love this fic. It genuinely is my favorite fanfiction out there both just for the quality of it’s writing and the comically massive influence it had on my life this year. If you somehow haven’t read it by now, please do, if you like the art I’ve drawn of this ship over the past 60 days I can almost 100% guarantee that you’ll like this story. And read the rest of Val’s fics too! Please! 

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[aza-writes]

Right Where You Left Me

Bucky Barnes x reader

Requested: no

Summary: Bucky found his fiance from the 1940s, but she isn't his fiance anymore. 

Warnings: ANGST, use of y/n (ONLY TWICE AND IN PASSING), talks of dementia and religion. 

Inspiration: Right Where You Left Me by Taylor Swift 

A/N: Combining my two favorite things, Bucky Barnes and Taylor Swift. Religion is vague in this btw

Bucky's POV:

She looks so beautiful. So, so beautiful. I imagined her like this so often. 

But I imagined the situation differently. I imagined myself either six feet under or in a bed right next to hers. Our hands touching, or if we could, hop into each other’s beds for the night. 

But that’s all just a fantasy. 

Right now, she’s there, across the hallway. I can barely see into her room, curtains blocking me from her face. All I can see is her hands, her quilted blanket, and her grandson. 

Her grandson.

Her’s

That’s not even the worst part; he’s technically older than me. Or, he looks older than me, aged more than I have. He even has kids of his own, a boy and a girl. 

She has a great-grandson and a great-granddaughter. 

I want to walk in and see her face, speak to her, but I’m terrified. There are two possible outcomes if I walk in there, and both are paired with an unimaginable heartbreak that hurts to just think about. She could either recognize me or not. If she sees my face and knows who I am, she might hate me. And if she doesn’t, it’ll break me. 

If she recognizes me, I don’t know if she’ll see the good times or the bad. The last time I saw her broke both of us, her more than me. That’s what scares me the most. 

• • • • • •

“Tomorrow?” Her voice cracks. Slow tears fall down her cheeks as she quickly wipes them off. 

It feels like the whole diner is looking at us, but the truth is no one cares. Everyone is so wrapped up in their own shit they don’t care about the couple in the back corner being torn apart by the war; they’re probably worried they’ll have to do the same soon. We’re the future to them. 

I nod and rub my thumb on the back of her free hand. It’s taking every ounce of strength I have to not start tearing up with her. I need to be strong for her. I need to be hopeful for both of us. “I’m so sorry, doll. I wish it didn’t have to be this way.” 

Drafted. Enlisting is one thing, but being drafted is something different. Steve begged me to join him, but I said no. Claiming I would after y/n and I got married at city hall. Even if we were able to follow through with those plans, I wouldn’t be able to leave her. She would’ve kept me here just by waking up next to me. But none of that mattered now. Our future plans would have to be put on hold for a while. 

Her tears pick up the pace, causing a bit of mascara to chase after the tear. She wipes it off then looks at her finger, the black clumping next to her nail. 

“Please don’t cry, darling.” My voice starts to shake, but I push it back. “I’ll be back. I promise I’ll be back.” 

She shakes her and pulls her hands away. “No, no don’t do that.” She wipes her tears again; this time, there weren’t any that followed. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” She looks me in the eyes and brings her hands back to mine. “I have two friends already who are widows, and both of their husbands made promises. Promises are bad luck.” 

I nod at her now. I know exactly what she’s talking about. There’s been a lot of letters recently, not from the soldiers but from the government, all starting with, “We regret to inform you” and ending with “Our deepest condolences.” 

“When tomorrow do you leave?” Her voice was quiet but less sad. It was more of a matter-of-fact tone. 

“Early morning.” Early, very early. It's too early to get to the courthouse tomorrow before I have to leave. Too early to get a marriage license. Too early in every aspect of the word. It’s too early to leave her. Too early for anything. 

“Does Steve know?” 

I shake my head again. “No, I’m telling him after this, though.” 

“Are we still going to the Stark Expo tonight?” A small smile creeps up on her face. She’s trying to lighten the mood, and it’s working. I can’t feel anything but pure joy looking at her face. 

“Of course, doll.” 

• • • • • •

The other option is that she doesn’t remember me at all. How would I approach her then? I haven’t gotten the courage to go into her room yet, but her family has to reintroduce themselves every time they go to visit. Their voices stay sad, and every conversation they have is the same. Pleasantries and them updating her on their lives. She doesn’t say much besides a few “oh” and “Is that right?” She never uses their names or asks more questions. I don’t think she would be able to. 

The word “dementia” is thrown around a lot by her nurses. Recently “Lewy body” has been added to it. They also say Alzheimer’s a lot when looking at her charts. That cluster of words is enough to fill me with dread. I want to take all of this away from her. I want her mind to be perfectly sound, I want to be in a hospital bed with her, and I want to be the man who has to keep reintroducing himself as her husband. But I can’t. All I can do is listen to the nurses from a distance. My time for seeing her is running out, it won’t be long before I’ve missed my opportunity. She won’t be around for much longer. 

Her grandson leaves the room while holding his son’s hand, the baby back in the car seat on his arm. Tears are in his eyes, but he’s trying to hide them in front of his kids, not wanting to upset them. 

Through the window, I can still see her hands. She fiddles with the quilt a bit, but they don’t move much. They don’t look like the hands I held years and years ago, but mine don’t look the same either. Scars outline mine just like age does to her’s. 

Is it crazy to think someone’s hands look beautiful? 

A small chime goes off the speakers, indicating that there are ten minutes left in visiting hours. The halls will be cleared soon, medicine will be passed out, and lights will be turned off. 

Ever since I’ve come to visit her in the hospice facility, “soon” has been another word that is thrown around when they mention her. 

She’ll be out of pain soon.

She’ll be reunited with her loved ones soon. 

She’ll be leaving us soon. 

I don’t have any more time to just sit here; “soon” will run out eventually. 

The hallways are almost clear, and the nurses move to their stations and the medicine cabinet to prepare for bedtime. 

This is my chance. My brain doesn’t comprehend what my body is doing when I stalk down the hallway and into the doorway. It wasn’t more than a second before our eyes lock.

Her eyes. Her eyes are still so perfect. They haven’t changed at all. Still soft, bright, and expressive. They have always been so beautiful, so why, at this very moment I’m speechless? I’m sure I’ve seen them over a million times in my life, but they are even better than I remember. Her eyes bring back more memories, ones I was sure were lost forever when Hydra took them. I remember remembering them during my time as the Winter Soldier. They brought me peace then. They’re bringing me peace now, too. They even give me courage. At least enough to look at the rest of her face. 

Her face. The face I was so scared I wasn’t going to recognize was in front of me. Why was I so scared? I couldn’t forget it even if I tried. It’s been decades. Smile, frown, and laugh lines sculpted in, but I feel like they were always supposed to be there. They were mapped out years ago but finally took their rightful place. 

She looks so beautiful. So perfect. 

Her eyes change when she sees me, but there isn’t confusion behind her eyes. There’s relief. 

“We’ll look who it is.” She smiles softly. “I thought you were going to be at work all day.” She removes her blanket and swivels her torso, trying to get out of the bed. She hasn’t been able to move like this in a long time; why is it happening now? 

“You know who I am?” My voice is so quiet, so stuck in the back of my throat that I’m scared I might lose it. 

“James, I know who you are. Not quit messing around and come here.” She giggles and tries to swing her legs to the side of the bed. Her wrist shakingly grabs the railing next to her, the deteriorated muscles using everything they can to pull her out of that bed. Her arms outstretched gently, hands reaching towards me. “Could you help me, Buck?”

I feel like I’m outside my body. Is this even real life? She knows me. Not recognize, knows. I place my hands in hers, too wrapped up in the moment to worry about my arm. Would she notice? Do I care if she notices? No, not really. 

She rubs her thumbs over my hands, something she does to provide comfort. Comfort for what? Does she know what day it is?

“Can you help me out of this bed, Buck? I’m tired of sitting here.” She moves uncomfortably and sighs when she realizes she can’t get up by herself. 

I pull away only for a moment to pull up a chair next to her bed. “I’m sorry, doll, but you need to stay here a bit longer.” I keep my voice quiet, wanting to keep her here at this moment. 

She just nods, her mind too tired to fight with the logic.

“I don’t have to go anymore.” Her eyes go wide; tears fill them and threaten to spill out. “The war is done, and I get to stay here with you.” Her hands go to cover her mouth, a few rouge tears fall from her eyes. 

“Really? Please tell me you’re telling the truth, James. This has to be true.” She moves her hand back down to grasp mine, revealing her hopeful smile. 

“It’s all true. I’m not going anywhere.”  I bring her hand to my lips and softly kiss it. A small, relieved laugh leaves her, and a few more tears come out. 

“C-can we still go to city hall? I want to marry you, Bucky. I don’t want a wedding I want to be married tomorrow.” 

“Of course, darling, of course.” 

• • • • • •

Two days later, I didn’t even have to read the paper. I was met with her eyes one final time…

Sadly, right above it was the title of the column: Obituaries

A/n: Request are open! Look at guidelines and taglist info😚

[queenbol-of-baldurs-gate]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard Ending Theory

MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. ALSO PRETTY LONG.

So, as I was showering this morning I came to a sudden realisation through my DATV daydreaming.

It's pretty obvious going by the hidden ending slides that something or someone has been manipulating events through history that weren't the Evanuris. They sound evil, look evil, very mysterious and spooky.

And I think most people can connect the dots that we have already been warned about them in DAI and in Veilguard with the little message in the Minrathous printing house, about those strange chalk markings and about a "storm" approaching from across the northern sea, as well as infiltrators tracking the progress over the major protagonists over the last 20 years (and a hidden figure in the future?):

Plus Rook has seemingly been interacting with these hidden entities every time they upgrade the Lighthouse's core with the spinning rings, whispering to them all ominous like and foreboding.

So, this 'storm' has been manipulating and waiting and letting things percolate in Thedas for a very very long time, and it's only when Solas is sealed into the Fade, with all the other Evanuris dead, that they are finally ready to move.

And so it occured to me, just how long have these mysterious entities been waiting? Since the fall of the elven empire? Since the rise of the elven gods?

Or since the fall of the Titans?

But then I got really thinking and the biggest question that came to me as I was rinsing out my hair; what on earth convinced a spirit to take physical form, and become the first elf? The first evanuris?

Spirits, by Solas' own words, are driven by a purpose, by emotion, by what inspires them (do not get me started on who the spirits got the emotions they embodied from in the first place)- so what in the hell could've been so compelling that it drove a spirit, who are also famously very content on being spirits, to take lyrium from the ground and create a body like that? How did it know to do it? Why would it choose lyrium in particular, when this was a world that was filled to the brim with magic?

I think someone told them to do it.

So, my theory is that these mysterious entities, the Storm coming across the northern sea (where the qunari ran from), haven't just been manipulating recent events in Thedas. I think they have been orchestrating things from the very beginning. Before the first elf, when Titans roamed the continent, maybe even the planet, freely; from the rise of the spirits-turned-elves, their war, and their inevitable downfall of their empire. I think these things needed the Titans to fall, then they needed the elves they uplifted to fall as well. I think the creation of the Veil put a wedge in those plans, as well as the continued lives of the Evanuris that powered the Veil as well as Solas'. So they needed them to die too, as well as these pesky little humans that suddenly popped up and started taking up space. But the Veil was strong, and Solas had hid his resting place well, and the humans propogated like fuckin bunnies.

So you bide your time, and you nudge and pull at events to your liking, until the Evanuris die off one by one, and the Veil gets weaker and weaker, and the Blights kill off more and more of the mortals above and below the surface.

And then the protagonists show up. They all each kill a major, ancient demon. They all dig up and find ancient evils and secrets and artifacts. They each influence history in uncountable ways. One stops a world ending Blight in a year. One holds together a literally cursed city, built on top of a damn blood ritual sigil, for a decade. One seals a massive tear in the Fade, stopping a cataclysmic event. And one kills two gods and imprisons a third, holding back the end of the world for a third time.

So enough is enough. They'll just have to come over the sea, and handle it themselves.

[toaarcan]

What does Mephiles want?

So, Mephiles is my favourite Sonic villain and has been for a while now. His vibes are simply off the charts. But his schemes within schemes are generally considered overly convoluted and nonsensical, and while there's an element of the former, the latter is, in my opinion, an unfair angle.

I know Sonic 06's writing is not the best in general, but I genuinely think Mephiles is one of the best-handled parts of it. So I thought I'd break down why I think he does what he does.

1) Why didn't he just fuse with Iblis in the future/immediately kill Elise to free Iblis in the present/do X more logical and straightforward path to his ultimate goal?

I'm getting this one out of the way slightly out of order because this is another of the many examples of "Audience expects characters to be rational, logical actors who never make emotion-driven decisions."

I can sit here and make theories as to why fusing in the future doesn't work, or argue the toss over whether Elise's death is really a means of releasing Iblis, but the simple answer here is that Mephiles is not a logical actor. He is a spiteful, sadistic monster who could do things the quick and clean way... but he's a time-travelling immortal with power enough to equal the Ultimate Life Form, why not have some fun along the way?

It should also be noted that during the events of Sonic 06, Mephiles has existed as an independent entity for ten years. He spent all ten of those years trapped in a vessel roughly the size of a soda can. Your facetious "Hurr durr why doesn't he just cut onions under Elise's eyes" gotcha can be easily countered by asking "At what point in this man's very short and limited existence would he have learned about the ocular effects of chopping onions?"

2) Mephiles and Shadow: Revenge

Well firstly we need to set aside most of what he does in Shadow's story. Yes, really. The only parts of Shadow's story that are actually part of Mephiles' big plan are the following:

Trying to break or corrupt Shadow in the future.

Acquiring a Chaos Emerald so he can use it to summon the others once Iblis is free.

Shadow actually thwarts that last one, but it doesn't matter, because as we see in the Last Episode, he simply goes and gets another one once he realises that the green and yellow ones are out of play for the moment.

See, Mephiles' attempts to mess with Shadow's head have nothing to do with reforming Solaris. They're a separate, more personal agenda. Because Mephiles isn't single-mindedly focusing on reforming Solaris. He's also out for revenge.

Mephiles' interactions with Shadow are often read as him attempting to corrupt Shadow and turn him over to the dark side, but I'm not sure if that really matters all that much to Mephiles, besides as a means to an end. We see Mephiles really manipulating people in Silver's story, after all, and he has a different approach.

While manipulating Silver, Mephiles presents himself as a benevolent ally, who offers a desperate Silver a means of stopping Iblis once and for all.

Once Silver starts to question him, Mephiles is evasive, not giving Silver a straight answer but instead applying time pressure, reminding him that if he fails in his mission, Iblis' rampage will continue unabated, and implying that time is running out before Sonic triggers the end of the world.

But that's not how he approaches Shadow. Instead, upon meeting Shadow for the first time since he was sealed, Mephiles laughs his mouthless head off, shambles around like a zombie, and promises him "a one-way ticket to oblivion."

I don't think he's trying to get Shadow to join him, guys.

And sure, when Shadow confronts Mephiles in Flame Core, he does extend an offer to Shadow, trying to tempt him to turn on humanity for their future betrayal. He positions the idea of Shadow avenging himself on humanity again as a reasonable thing, as justice.

But when Shadow doesn't bite, he doesn't press it. He just shrugs it off, goes into his crystalline form, and proceeds to start trying to kill Shadow. But why try to make this offer at all?

Easy: This is before Shadow saves Sonic from Silver at Radical Train. If Shadow doesn't intervene, because he's either evil or broken, Silver kills Sonic right there while Elise is watching, helpless in the grip of Eggman's hovercraft, and she probably cries and releases Iblis a few days early.

That's why he switches focus to trying to break Shadow's spirit after this point: Any benefit he could've gotten from corrupting Shadow no longer matters.

Revealing more of Shadow's fate in the future, and everything else he does after this point, isn't about trying to turn Shadow to darkness again. It's about hurting him. That's it. He just wants to hurt Shadow, make him feel like his heroics are futile, because all those ungrateful humans will turn on him in the end anyway, even one of his closest friends will betray him, ordered to hunt down, defeat, and seal Shadow in a prison for a crime he didn't commit.

Past their encounter in Flame Core, this isn't remotely part of the Solaris plan any more, it's purely about Mephiles wanting to torment Shadow, it's revenge for what he does in Aquatic Base in the past. Shadow sealed him in the Sceptre of Darkness ten years ago, and the vast majority of their interactions are Mephiles trying to do exactly what he promised after he escaped.

And that desire for revenge rather neatly explains why he goes about targeting Silver and Elise the way he does too.

3) Mephiles and Silver: For Iblis

Despite his monstrousness, there is someone that Mephiles cares about deeply: Iblis. True, that's technically just another part of himself, but they do exist as separate entities for most of the game, and Mephiles refers to Iblis by name and as a separate entity to himself when Iblis is freed.

And this, combined with his vengefulness, neatly explains why he sends Silver after Sonic.

Because Silver fights Iblis every day. Because when he and Iblis were newly-separated and trying to escape from Aquatic Base, Silver hunted Iblis down and captured him, enabling the Duke to seal him (more on that later). Silver was the instrument of Iblis' sealing, and desperately wants to kill Iblis. What would be more ironic (and we know Mephiles has an appreciation for irony, it's literally in his first line in Shadow's story) than using Silver himself to bring about Iblis' liberation?

How does Mephiles know that Silver is responsible? Time travel, of course. Like, he had to learn where Iblis was sealed, and that crying was the key to the seal on him somehow, he almost certainly hopped back to Aquatic Base to see what went down on Silver's side of things.

That Silver is a good (if desperate) person, but Mephiles is trying to manipulate him into killing another hero only adds to the satisfaction Mephiles would get from watching this all play out.

And though Silver fails, and realises the truth, his interference with Sonic's side of the story only helps push Mephiles closer to his goal, and the third aspect of his vengeance.

4) Mephiles, the Duke, and Elise: Sins of the Father

Let's talk about everyone's favourite Sonic character, Princess Elise III.

Elise is Iblis' vessel, and is incredibly emotionally repressed, having somehow not cried since she was about seven years old, despite both of her parents being dead, the pressures of being a monarch, and the general hormone-driven emotional instability of being a teenager.

As the one thing holding Iblis' rampage back, Elise's death in the crashing Egg Carrier at the end of Sonic and Silver's trip through Kingdom Valley is the point where Iblis broke free and ruined everything. Setting aside whether her death caused it or if she shed a single tear before impact. But this isn't enough for Mephiles, apparently, and despite her being Iblis' vessel, he takes very little interest in her throughout the story... or does he?

Mephiles could take Elise's death as a W, hop over to the crash site and fuse with Iblis there. But he doesn't? Why?

Because he specifically wants to break the seal by making her cry.

This is why Silver's failures play into Mephiles' hands anyway. Because by trying to kill Sonic, Silver keeps opening the doors for Elise to get captured again, forcing Sonic to rush to her aid once more, and generally making their time together much more dramatic and emotionally-tense. This almost certainly helps get Elise, uhhhhh... let's just say attached to Sonic, meaning that when, at the beginning of the final act, Mephiles hits Sonic with the ol' "Nothin personnel kid", Elise's overstressed emotional repression finally fails and she breaks down, releasing Iblis.

But why does he want to do this? Why go through all the extra hurdles of piling more pressure on Elise until she snaps, when he could theoretically just kill her and set Iblis free, or literally just be there for her death?

You guessed it, it's revenge again. But not against Elise, against her father, using Elise as a proxy.

I think if there's anyone in the entire universe that Mephiles outright despises, it's this guy.

The Duke of Soleanna was responsible for the original Solaris Project, during which he attempted to control Solaris' power in order to give himself and his people power over time. However, it's heavily implied that the experiments weren't exactly a pleasant experience for Solaris, given that they ultimately destabilised him, resulting in him being explosively torn into two parts.

This event is the entire reason that Solaris, and his two fragments, are hostile. Before the Solaris Project, Solaris himself was a benevolent and benign entity. As the Flame of Hope, he was genuinely worshipped by the people of Soleanna, and was said to have once saved the city from a great fire, while in the form of an eagle.

Now, it's been theorised that Solaris actually caused that fire, but there's no actual evidence to suggest that beyond association with fire, and engineering a false-flag disaster to force people to worship him generally isn't in-character with what we know of Solaris pre-Project.

That said, their faith wasn't without its darker side, as prophecy foretold that one day, Solaris' wrath would be incurred, manifesting in the forms of the Flames of Disaster. And this is exactly what the Solaris Project ended up doing, driving Solaris berserk and resulting in both of his halves becoming monsters.

So for Mephiles, hatred of Duke, and Elise by proxy, would already be extremely personal. But it doesn't stop there, because the Duke is also the one to seal Iblis within Elise, putting him in the line of fire for the same reasons as Shadow and Silver.

And how better to exact a posthumous vengeance against the Duke than by emotionally breaking his beloved daughter, and in doing so, directly undoing the seal he made, in precisely the way he tried to prevent?

Mephiles' mind was probably made up on how he'd free Iblis from the moment he learned what the key to the lock was.

5) Mephiles' actual goals.

With that in mind, here's my simplified list of what Mephiles wants to achieve in 06.

Re-fuse into Solaris.

Free Iblis by emotionally devastating Elise.

In destroying Elise, achieve vengeance on the Duke by ruining his plans and tormenting his daughter.

Make Silver the one to free Iblis by killing Sonic, an ironic punishment for sealing Iblis to begin with.

Torment Shadow with the terrible future ahead of him as vengeance for sealing him to begin with (Side project).

And hell, here's a flowchart.

It's a bit small, but it should be the right size if you open it in a new tab.

So yeah, I don't think Mephiles' plan is overly convoluted. Most of his actual plan to reunite with Iblis is straightforward enough. Everything other aspect is either a contingency or a side-project, and any inefficiencies are the result of his sadistic need for vengeance on Shadow, Silver, and the Duke.

[sophieinwonderland]

I need to ramble about my favorite moment in Slay the Princess!

Huge Spoilers Ahead! Do not read if haven't played the game and ever plan to in the future!

(Spoilers specifically for the Happily Ever After and the end of the game.)

In Slay the Princess, you begin in the woods with someone in your head known only as The Narrator. The Narrator informs you that there's a princess locked in the basement of a cabin and you need to slay her.

In every path you go down, the narrator is constantly trying to convince you to slay the Princess. But you don't have to do it. There are other options. Other paths that you can take that lead to different results.

Through the game, it's revealed that each version of the Princess you encounter is part of a being called The Shifting Mound, which represents change and destruction. The narrator is an echo of a mortal man who wanted to make a world without death. He was so committed to this ideology, to making a world where no one would ever die again, that he gave his own life for the cause. The narrators you interact with in each run are just imitations following out his dying wish... making sure that you Slay the Princess.

Once she's gone, everyone will get to exist exactly as they are. No more fear, no more howling chaos. Just life. Forever.

If you could successfully kill the Princess without dying, you're given the "good ending". You are "rewarded" with the Narrator's idea of perfection. You get to stay in the cabin. Forever. In a world unchanging, unending. Where you need not eat or sleep. A life endlessly prolonged.

While the narrator tells you that this is great, it's obviously not and the game encourages you to take your own life to continue, with one of the voices in your head sensing that it wouldn't be the end for you.

This brings me to the Happily Ever After scenario!

This happens down a route where you fall in love with a version of the Princess called The Damsel. After unshackling her, you can convince her to stay with you in the Cabin.

The Cabin is transformed into a palace fit for a Princess.

But there's a problem. Neither of you are actually happy with your happily ever after. All the meals you share together gradually get worse. You grow bored of all the games you play.

It's miserable. She's miserable trying to make things work and pretend like everything is okay when what she really wants is to finally be free.

She asks to dance with you under the stars, and even the narrator seems to accept it.

When asked about why he's okay with it after he claimed her leaving the cabin would end the world, he replies with this line:

I've seen my fairy-tale ending, and I think there might be worse things than the end of the world.

The significance of this line may not be apparent on the first playthrough of the game, but what he's saying is actually pretty incredible character development.

This is an echo of a man who gave up his life to end death. If he failed at his goal, his sacrifice would be meaningless.

When he encourages them to leave, I don't think it's just because he was moved for the player and Princess's sake. I think this was a breakthrough moment and he realized that this fate was what he would have everyone in the universe suffer were he to succeed and change was successfully eliminated from the world.

This was his dream. This was what he fought for. What he died for.

And it was horrible.

So he did the thing that he would have had everyone stop doing. He changed. He changed his mind and rejected the very ideology that he died for.

The Narrator isn't given a backstory. We don't know his name. We don't know what his life was like when he was alive. We only know his goals and the extremes he would go for to reach them. And yet, in this one time, in this one reality, he changed and realized the error of his ways.

And I think that this is really cool. It shows a dimensionality to the Narrator that isn't visible through the other timelines. They didn't need to write the Narrator this way here, they could have just had him stay as the voice in your head constantly trying to convince you to take the Princess's life, but I find it so important that they did write him this way in this chapter. Because it demonstrates the values that are so core to the game's narrative and themes, that change is possible for anyone. That it's a necessary part of life. And what better way to demonstrate that than by showing that even the person who sacrificed everything to stop the world from changing could change, himself?

And that's why, despite being such a simple line on the surface, this is one of my favorite moments in the game.

[halastar05]

Thoughts on Mastermind

(So yeah spoilers ahead)

So after letting my thoughts on the episode settle a bit and giving myself time to analyze, I have a LOT to say.

So first of all… yeah I think this is officially my new favorite Helluva episode.

I think this episode was pretty well paced (a little fast, but there was a LOT to cover) and also did a surprisingly good job at balancing the drama and humor. Also obviously ADORED the IMP found family showcased in this episode, they were entertaining in the first scene, and heart wrenching at the court.

Now for a bit more analysis, the way they handled the writing was REALLY interesting here. While first watching the episode, I was a little confused about Andrealphus’s plan, but after thinking about it… it’s scarily clever.

He knows that Stolas is smart in his own right, if he straight up brought him to court, he’d find a good way to argue. He knows how to work this type of stuff as shown in Oops. But if they brought in only Blitzø, they knew Stolas wouldn’t see until the broadcasted execution. He would have no time to form a concrete rational plan, Andre wants him to either act irrationally, or make himself look like a fool and incompetent. No one knows exactly what he’ll do, but Andre is giving Stolas as little time as possible to think it out. The hope is that he acts as irrationally as he has before.

And even if Stolas didn’t come, Andre purposely tries to make Stolas seem weak and somewhat helpless, incompetent. All the while he makes himself look an almost better version of our favorite bird. His backup plan is to make Stolas look incompetent and vulnerable, while it may be less immediate, with Stolas’s already somewhat declining reputation, this would make it easier for him to take Stolas’s title.

And despite being EXTREMELY irrational, Stolas did a pretty good job with his plan in my opinion. First of all, he brought ALL the theater kid energy in the song (which was an absolute banger by the way, I don’t care how cheesy the Stolitz part was I LOVE CHEESY) and did a great job playing the part. To me, this is proof that he had finally started to realize the classism. This is the type of part you can only play by understanding it even if you don’t necessarily believe it. He plays up the the classism and distaste for imps, he uses the fact that the other royals see them as useless and incompetent. And honestly, I think it was smart of him to be so vague in the song. Once again, he didn’t have a lot of time to think this through, and he somewhat used this to his advantage. Being vague added an air of mystery and made it seem like more of an unpredictable threat. He’s building up the fact that this mastermind has a dangerous plan, something possibly having to do with taking over the mortal realm. And then when he reveals himself to be the “mastermind”? Well of course he wouldn’t expose any of his “future plans”, Stolas is playing as someone who just wants the recognition and to be feared. Someone arrogant, feeling offended that an imp was getting the credit for his crimes. Claiming he has more planed while not naming those plans makes him a threat and will draw away almost any blame from Blitzø.

And of course this plan is impulsive, but he barely has any time to plan. He arrives right before the axe is about to come down on his lover’s neck. His only goal right now is making sure Blitzø stays alive. In the song he even acknowledges how impulsive it is to throw everything away for this idiot he is still frankly mad at. But he’s learned he can choose his fate, and that’s exactly what he’s doing.

And of course I ADORED the Stolitz in this episode, they were both so perfectly dramatic and the absolute SOFTNESS in the last scene had me making absolute demonic and feral noises. But, despite this somewhat being a closure to the season 2 Stolitz drama (however we do still have Sinsmas) I’m happy they’re still leaving room for more angst even with them now being able to properly blossom. This episode did an EXCELLENT job at showcasing the classism via the unfairness of the court case, so it feels fitting that at the end the power dynamic almost switches. Blitzø is now a celebrity amongst imps and lower class demons, while Stolas essentially lost everything, including his daughter. And while I definitely think this is setting up for angst in at least the next episode (in which I very much think they’re going to go and try to save Octavia from her bitchy mother), this power dynamic is going to feel different, because while there is still somewhat a power dynamic now, there is also a much larger level of understanding between the two of them. They now feel more capable of facing this together, there is less doubt of feelings. I’m REALLY excited to see how they handle this, and yes I also am an absolute sucker for hurt/comfort.

Those are most of my major thoughts in this episode. I loved every single part of this beautifully dramatic episode (yeah I expectantly loved Vassago) but most of the other things I would bring up have already been said. Plus this post is too long so yeah that’s it for now.

[booknbrew]

SPOILERS FOR THE ENDING OF PANTHEON SEASON 2 BELOW 👇 TW: Sui, self h, murder

One of the things that breaks my heart most about the ending of the show, is the fates of the human main characters:

David Sr. - died of cancer being the first human subject to an experimental brain surgery, in the hopes of mending the heartbreak of his family after his passing. It could be true that he suffered just as much as Chanda did on his surgery, though it may also not be the case, because Logorythems had a different surgical process to Chanda's captors.

Ellen Kim - chose to end her life because she felt irrelevant in her working field and because of her immense divide with her daughter (and probably grandchild), both on an emotional, philosophical and probably physical level.

Maddie Kim - died 20 years after her first and only love passed away in front of her to save humanity. Before passing she lost every close human connection she had, had to go through teenage pregnancy, raising a child as a single mom, and having that same child bleed to death in her arms. The only reason she uploaded was that she felt she had no other reason to live. She was the only one that felt that uploading was not a solution, but suicide.

Caspian Keyes - died as a martyr to save humanity as a teenager, after years of mental and physical abuse orchestrated by a big corporation, his last few years experienced in constant existential crisis and the disregard for his own safety and survival.

Cary - died to save his adopted son, but ultimately, did not get to know that he died as a martyr shortly after.

Renee - not a very nice woman that drove herself insane for a person she was madly obsessed with. After abusing a child for years, being a horrible and abusive colleague (if you call being a fake wife that), involving herself with a plan to genocide the entire human population (or at least as much of it as possible) for a lover just as insane as her, and just as dead.

Cody Lowel - similarly to maddie, probably uploaded out of despair.

Laurie Lowel - was murdered for the purpose of a failed experiment. Twice, if you consider the faith of her UI.

Chanda - same as Laurie, but had to be awake and suffer for a long time before dying in the very same experiment. Twice.

Though we did get a relatively "good" ending for a variation of Maddie and Caspian's UI, the only individuals I keep longing for are the humans involved in this story. I believe the one that suffered the most, if you can really make such a comparison, is Maddie.

Having experienced loss and grief over and over and over, just for her very last moments to be surrendering to despair, after holding your dying son... I cannot think about her character without getting misty-eyed. Having lost all of your family in the most brutal ways, including your would be future husband/long-term partner, it's just gut-wrenching.

Lots of people have found feelings of relief after realizing the fate of the UIs, but I could never stop thinking about the humans. I'm not even sure if we watched the real story, because we were introduced to a simulation in the first place. What if their fates were worse than what we saw already?

The slongen of the Pro Upload folks was "die now, live forever" but the reality is that not every character in the show considered their UI copy to be a continuation of themselves. So those who chose to upload even though they philosophy opposed it, have essentially ended their lives seeing it as us the viewers see suicide in our world, and it's heartbreaking. Though, ending your life viewing your UI copy as a continuation of you is horrifying in it's own way (may make a separate post on that).

[goldenboywrites]

When he was younger, he thought he wasn’t a being made to be loved. It was a notion drilled into him since before he could remember. He had heard the voice all of his life, his uncle’s whispers that Quin would only ever have him, that no one would ever look beyond what had been done to him, and that no one would understand him the way his uncle did. Quin had never thought he would make it to this point, telling another person what had happened to him. With his nefarious plans, his uncle had somehow forced his hand. There were now too many questions regarding the two of them for the truth to lay dormant. While cutting himself open and laying his truth bare did, in a way, feel like he was killing himself, he also felt a huge weight lift off of his shoulders at telling it and telling it to someone who would hold his secrets close to his heart. Quin had always feared this moment but realized it was a release. It was nothing to fear. 

He felt the air shift as Cesare tiptoed toward him, and he prepared himself for the inevitable touch that came with the prince’s closeness. Quin felt relief as the arms enclosed him. He listened as Cesare spoke, and while he knew his words were genuine and honest, Cesare wasn’t thinking about the future of his nation. He was thinking like a regular man, not as a king. “Eventually,” Quin spoke softly, leaning into Cesare’s touch as he wiped the tears from his cheeks, “You will be king of Adros, Cesare, and while you can understand what happened to me and you have accepted it but if it ever gets out your people will not. I will be a disgrace on your rule, a stain, and I don’t want that for you.” Quin sighed, tilting his head back to look up at Cesare. It was moments like this where he wished comfort and touch came as easily to him as it did to Cesare. “I will not be selfish and gamble with your future.” 

Quin went to push himself away, but Cesare’s arms around him tightened. The prince huffed his disapproval but relented on any actual separation of space between them. “Of course, I want this. I want us. It’s all I’ve ever wanted and all I’ve ever thought of. You have filled every thought in my mind since I met you, and I spent years fighting it and cursing you, but it’s only ever been you. It could only ever be you for me, but I-” Quin closed his eyes with an annoyed groan. He leaned into Cesare’s chest, tucking his head beneath the prince’s chin. “I feel guilt moving forward with you, knowing what my past may cost you. I don’t want you to end up resenting me.” He felt Cesare shift and knew a rebuttal was coming. Quin’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned back, reaching up with his hand and sealing his palm over his mouth. “No, don’t. You can’t promise you won’t resent me, and I don’t want to hear it. You aren’t thinking like a king, Cesare. You’re thinking with your heart and probably your penis but not with your brain.” 

“I don’t know what the right thing to do is,” Quin confessed after a moment, wrapping his arms around Cesare’s waist. “I know what feels right. This feels right, but I can’t help but have a lingering fear that it will fall apart like everything else I touch.” He smoothed his hand along the prince’s back, silent for a few minutes as he organized his thoughts. “If I-” He cut himself off, his lips flattening into a thin line. He didn’t want something to fight for that wasn’t solely Maximus’ life when he went up against his uncle because he knew that could end with his death. Quin was still focused on getting Maximus out of his war alive, but Cesare changed the game; he gave Quin something to live for, and it ruined everything. "I don't think we should decide or move forward with anything until my uncle is dealt with. Too much is still in the air, and we don't know how it will play out."

His feet hit the floor at the sound of the crash but the prince of Adros did not step one more toe further than that. What Quin was telling him, explaining and maybe talking out with himself in a way could not be interrupted. It was a rare moment when he was so candid and while this truly was not a truth Cesare wanted to hear, he needed to. Because hearing it all from Beau was one thing but to see the ramifications of it hit so wholly on Quin, there was no other proof he'd ever needed than his word but any doubt or question that had been brought up about the man before him was dashed. Because as he'd explained pieces and parts started to fall into place for the prince. Even his last visit to the castle, there was suggestion that Quintus was unwell but no one had ever clarified what sort of unwell. Just that he had always been a constant state of it. Even Max had said it a time or two.

The bitter taste of iron snapped him out of the momentum of Quin's confession and he'd realized he'd been biting down on his lip nearly the entire time. It wasn't any wonder, being that still while being that sort of information was terrible to stomach. And then he'd instantly felt ashamed for feeling as though he had a worse time than the man explaining his truth. The ache in his chest started to grow and grow. Seeing him so bare, so raw was never something Cesare thought he'd see in all his life. Quintus had always been a pillar of sly, cunning that he found to be something of a wonder and a pleasure. It was why after only a little while knowing him that the prince knew he'd one day ask for his hand. Even Max had known for years that was going to be the way of it. Cesare ate out of his hands and would have done anything but something struck him in a way he hadn't expected. Not you. And it had occurred to him then that Quin had expected him to save him. To see him then. The contents of his stomach started to gurgle at the thought he really took a moment to himself for that. Because maybe he had known all along. Maybe there had been tells and he'd ignored them because the rest of their court had.

Cesare swallowed hard and quietly moved around from where he'd stood. Quin's words were processed as they came. And he knew from that moment on that there would always be two halves to Quin. There would be a Quin that was light and bright, one that enjoyed sparring with his brother for fun and telling Cesare and Xander ridiculous plots to get them going for an afternoon of whatever he'd had planned. The prince drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Because the other part of Quin would always exist elsewhere. And that's what he would call it. For those dirty, grimy things that Quin was certain would remain for him. And Cesare could love him in both. He knew he could because hadn't he been already? Quin said he hadn't noticed but wasn't he always with Quin whenever it was possible? Excusing his guards in favor of his own protection when he was near?

He was careful to not step on the food or meade on the floor as he made his way closer. The fur on Quin's back heaved and he didn't stutter, Cesare laid a firm hand upon him and brought his other around his front to clutch him to his own body. His face pressed into the mess of Quin's hair and he hugged him so tightly. And they stayed like that for quite a few moments before anything was said. Quin had to know that just because he knew about what had happened with his uncle, it hadn't changed things. It wouldn't.

"I owe you nothing." He said plainly, planting a soft kiss to soft spot just under the other's ear as he'd shifted and moved Quin to look at him. This was the first time he'd ever truly seen fear in this man's face and it did something to the prince that was indescribable. And in that moment he'd known, by whatever means necessary, he'd bring that man to his knees. "Just as you owe me nothing." Damn him for taking something so precious away from him. For ruining his outlook on anything he'd ever have in his life. Cesare gently cupped Quin's face and his thumbs moved so slowly to wipe the bit of moisture from his cheeks. "But I cannot be whole if you are not with me, Quintus." He tried to smile but it felt more watery than anything else. His eyes fell between them for a moment and a few tears managed to squeeze their way out. He hadn't expected to feel this as deeply as he had but he should have anticipated it, knowing Quin, it was always something unexpected.

"I've waited longer than I would have liked to when it comes to asking you." He paused, swallowing hard and he looked back up at him, eyes still bright with a few unshed tears. "And I hadn't planned on tieing our engagement in with something like this but Quin." He drew in a deep breath shakily and sighed just the same. "I meant it. And I do mean it. Nothing can change my mind on this." His fingers scooped back to cup the back of his head and he felt himself starting to tremble inwardly from being so honest. "Only if you do not wish to marry me would I agree to that but this changes nothing." He thought a moment and found himself unable to stop from pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I love you, Quintus. Not the things that were done to you. Though ... " He paused, finding himself a little flustered at it all. "Though that is a part of you and I will find ways to live with and love it too." As he pulled down to look at him again, he felt some of that unease starting to slide into the back of his mind. "If you do not wish Max to know then he doesn't need to." That wasn't his place to interject. Though he thought maybe Quin would tell him in his own time. "My loyalty is to Vivec and your brother as friends and allies but, to you, I am always loyal first no matter what."

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

Turns out that Shinjiro doesn’t have to worry about staying on the sidelines with Yamagishi while the rest of the team puts their necks on the chopping block, after all. Apparently, the chopping block’s decided to come to them.

Ikutsuki is waiting for them on the steps leading into Tartarus, Aigis standing by his side.

Immediately Shinjiro can tell that something isn’t right with her. She doesn’t greet them like she normally would. Hell, she doesn’t even look at them– her eyes are fixed on a point of nothing somewhere behind the group. Her face is blank and empty in a way that makes it shockingly clear that she’s never actually been truly expressionless in all the time he’s known her. It’s like she’s–

Right. Well.

Like she’s a robot.

She reminds them all the time of what she is, but she’s never felt like a machine to him before. She’s never been anything more or less than yet another weirdo in this pack of absolute weirdos. She’s always just been one of them.

“She is simply here to fulfill her role. As a weapon, that is,” Ikutsuki says in that phony, indulgent-uncle tone that Shinjiro’s always hated. He’s never been a fan of the way Ikutsuki talked about Aigis– more like an object than a person– but he never would have expected something like this. Just what the hell did he do to her?!

Ikutsuki lays out the way he played them for complete chumps like he’s explaining one of his shitty jokes. Getting rid of the twelve big Shadows was never going to end the Dark Hour. They hadn’t even been getting rid of the Shadows to start with– just smashing open the jars keeping them contained, setting them free to join back up into something so much worse.

He calls it the Fall, like a fancy title might make the end of the world go down smoother. It was what Kirijo’s grandfather had been after from the beginning.

They hadn’t been cleaning up after his failed plan– they’d been finishing it for him. Kirijo looks absolutely crushed.

Ikutsuki starts popping off about ‘Death the Almighty’ and princes and how he fancies himself to be one, the last of his clownish aw-shucks mask crumbling away. Shinjiro edges forward and sweeps one arm out to gently herd Yamagishi behind him, putting himself between her and whatever Ikutsuki might be planning to throw at them.

He looks manic. He sounds like a goddamn lunatic. Does he seriously believe the crap he’s spouting? Does he really think of himself so high and mighty that he deserves to be the only human left alive? Shinjiro’s always thought the guy was a little cracked, but this is on a whole different level.

“You son of a bitch…” Shinjiro hisses under his breath. What else is he supposed to say? Everything’s gone so wrong so fast. Ikutsuki had every single one of them fooled, even Kirijo. Even her dad.

“I do apologize for deceiving you,” Ikutsuki says, not sounding remotely sorry. He looks so pleased with himself, smiling that easy smile of his. It has a completely different meaning now. “But all your hard work has paved the way for the future.

“Stay at my side for a bit longer, and you, too, will find salvation.”

He’s going to tear this bastard to shreds.

Takeba speaks up before Shinjiro can even take a step forward. She demands answers, something about her father and a video they’d seen. And the scumbag cheerfully admits to doctoring footage of her father’s dying words in order to convince S.E.E.S. and further his own crazy agenda. No wonder everyone believed Ikutsuki’s lies so easily. 

That seems to be the last straw for Kirijo. Honestly, Shinjiro isn’t sure what took her so long to realize that they just need to beat the shit out of this guy. He’ll be more than happy to do it– Ikutsuki’s had this coming for a long time. 

“I was hoping you’d be able to see the light,” Ikutsuki sighs and shakes his head. “But you are just kids, after all. Maybe I set my expectations too high.” He’s still using that condescending tone, like he’s scolding them for roughhousing and breaking a window. Shinjiro’s blood boils. Where does he get off talking down on them all like this?

“Aigis!” She stands at attention as Ikutsuki finally acknowledges her. “It’s time you fulfill your role,” he says. “Capture them, and prepare them for sacrifice!” 

Aigis steps forward. “Understood.”

Her voice is just as flat and scrubbed of emotion as her expression. Did Ikutsuki reprogram her or something? What exactly is his angle here? Aigis is a hell of a fighter, sure, but it’s still one against nine. Does Ikutsuki think they’ll refuse to defend themselves against one of their own? 

Shinjiro knows Aigis probably the least well out of everyone on the team, and even he can say with certainty that she’d rather be put down if it came to that, than for them to let her to hurt them. It’s what Shinjiro would have wanted in that position, too.

“Energy output…at maximum.”

“Aigis?” Yamagishi’s voice shakes slightly. “What’s wrong?”

A thin hum drills into his eardrums. Shinjiro’s heart drops into his gut– he knows that sound. They all do. Light seeps through her chassis as her system overclocks itself and parts inside of her start to glow red-hot. She launches herself skyward.

Orgia Mode.

Whatever Ikutsuki had done to brainwash her, it apparently also means that she can tap into Theurgy without heightened emotions to fuel it– without emotions at all.

Shinjiro’s life flashes before his eyes for the second time. He hefts up his axe to shield against the blast as best he can, closes his eyes, and clenches his teeth in anticipation.

It’s pointless. He’s not surviving this. Not in the state he’s in– still too injured, too weak. He knows how powerful Orgia Mode is. He’s seen what the activation shockwave is capable of– watched more than one group of Shadows get straight-up liquified by the blast. He hasn’t got a chance in hell.

“No!”

Several voices clamor all at once, but Yamagishi’s is closest and clearest from behind him. Tiny, bird-boned Yamagishi, who probably couldn’t survive taking the brunt of Aigis’ attack either. At least he can stand between her and the worst of it. The only other thing he can do is pray that everyone else makes it through this. Just because he’s expendable doesn’t mean the rest of them are.

Aigis comes back down, and everything is swallowed by sound and blue-white light, so bright even through his eyelids that it makes him nauseous. A thunderclap of pure, blunt force rattles him down to his bones.

…

It hurts– which means he isn’t dead. Why isn’t he dead?

Shinjiro risks cracking his eyes open and they immediately snap wide in shock at what he sees. He’s surrounded by glass and delicate metal scrollwork. Rippling patterns of light play over him like he’s standing at the bottom of a pool.

“Yamagishi?” He turns around, gaping. Her hands are clasped tight in front of her and her eyes are huge and frantic.

She’d protected him, summoning Juno who had eaten most of the blast for the two of them. It’s a little weird being on this side of the bubble, and even weirder to be the one someone else is tanking a hit for, but he’ll count his blessings where he can.

“A-Aragaki-senpai– are you okay?” Yamagishi’s voice is so weak and fluttery that he can barely hear it. 

He’s the one who should be asking her that. Her face had been pink from the bite in the air just moments ago but now she’s as white as a ghost, and he’s pretty sure that it isn’t just a trick of the light as it filters through the glass walls around them. It looks like keeping her gaze focused on him is so difficult that her eyes are starting to cross from the effort.

One of her feet skids forward– he’s not even sure if she was actually trying to take a step towards him or just trying not to lose her balance. Either way, she doesn’t have it in her.

Her legs give out. Weak as he is, Shinjiro still catches her with one-armed ease. Her breathing is fluttery and fast but relatively steady– she’s just passed out, thank god. Protecting them from the onslaught had sapped all of her energy.

Shinjiro bites the inside of his cheek. It should have been literally anyone else but him. He mutters his thanks under his breath as he gently lowers her to the ground.

Juno dissolves into seafoam light and the sound of a struggle suddenly rings out, loud in the eerie silence of the Dark Hour. Shinjiro whirls around to a scene of absolute horror.

Kirijo, Takeba, and Amada lay crumpled on the ground right where they’d been standing. Junpei sprawls face-down, his evoker still held loosely in his hand like he’d had time to draw it but his strength had failed him before he could do anything else. Koromaru is nowhere to be seen– where the hell did he end up? Aki is a ragdoll heap at Aigis’ feet. And Aigis–

Aigis holds Arisato up in the air by his collar. Surrounded by the nuclear glow of Orgia Mode, she looks more like an angel of death than someone he recognizes, someone who’s fought by his side. Shinjiro grips his axe tight enough that his knuckles ache. He stands absolutely no chance against her one-on-one, and he knows it. That doesn’t mean he’s going down without a fight.

“Aigis!” He calls out. Her head swivels to look at him but the rest of her stays uncannily motionless. It was bad enough seeing her eyes empty of the soul she’s supposed to have to begin with, but having that hollowed-out stare aimed straight at him– 

Ice water dread slips down his spine.

Without even returning her attention to Arisato, she jams the fingers of her free hand against his solar plexus. He lets out a short, bitten-off scream as little arcs of energy leap over his skin, but Aigis appears completely unconcerned about the pain she’s causing him. He goes limp and she drops him unceremoniously to the ground. With how devoted she is to their leader… It’s more than disturbing.

“Target neutralized. New target acquired.”

“Come on…” he cajoles. Maybe trying to talk sense into her in this situation is an insane thing to do but– he has to try. Being hopelessly outmatched isn’t the only reason Shinjiro doesn’t want to fight her. “Don’t let that asshole control you, Aigis. You’re better than this! You can–”

She raises her arms. The toxic light from the Dark Hour’s moon glints off of ten silver magnum barrels, all aimed at him.

It feels like Shinjiro’s entire body has turned to glass. He can’t move. For a second he can’t even breathe. His pulse is suddenly screaming in his ears and his vision tunnels until all he can see are the guns.

The slimy smile behind the metal gleam.

Rest peacefully.

His side and shoulder throb.

“Hold on, Aigis.”

“Command acknowledged.” 

She lowers one of her arms. It does nothing to dry up the cold sweat running down the back of Shinjiro’s neck. It doesn’t tame the frantic gallop of his heart. 

“Don’t kill him,” Ikutsuki says mildly, like he’s talking about a spider he's got trapped under a cup. 

Shinjiro still can’t move– why can’t he make his body fucking move?! 

“Not just yet. It wouldn’t do to waste a perfectly good offering.”

“Understood.”

That flashbulb whine begins to build again. Aigis bleeds light. Shinjiro’s eyes burn. That unfeeling gaze bores into him.

“Engaging.”

Everything goes dark and silent.spa

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Special Announcement for the Blog!

Hello to you all, my wonderful audience! I’ve come to make an announcement! 

As I’m sure you all know by now I made this blog to provide the small community of fans for this relationship as much art as they could handle, a bounty of soft Junkan for the masses! However, by the time this post is going up we should be just a few days past the big No. 60, we’re over halfway through with the event! December practically marks the end of the event despite a small amount of overlap into the new year. I very much want to extend the lifespan of this blog, even if I am still putting out art of these two on my main, However unfortunately I don’t think I have it in me to do something like 100 Days again, at least not for a very, very long time (and potentially for a different ship as well).

However there is one way to keep this blog alive for the foreseeable future, especially for 2025 specifically. You might have seen me make mention of it before in previous posts, however I’m happy to say that you can all look forward to-

Junkan Week!~ Coming February 11th all the way through the 17th! That’s right, we’ve roped Valentines Day into this!

The official prompt list for the event will go up later in the month! What day specifically is yet to be decided but I’ll be sure to make a proper post as a small heads up for ya’ll! 

And do not worry for those of you who want to participate but are worried about this blogs usual content of Softness above all else. I’m aware that while I am among many peers who like to see Junko and Mikan having a happy, soft relationship, there are plenty of you who like the ship to be depicted with a darker, more toxic tone even if I’m not among you!~ 

I’ve made plans and designed this event to give everyone who wants to depict the more twisted potential of this relationship! How so? You’ll just have to wait and see!! I also plan to offer a bonus prompt list specifically for AUs if that’s more your speed! I sincerely hope to see what you all have to offer, it will of course all be featured on this blog! 

But that’s not our only announcement! 

You may have noticed that I mentioned wanting to at least keep the lifespan of this blog going throughout 2025 specifically, however one week does not make a full year. Well while I can’t say this account likely won’t become a big quiet for a majority of 2025 unless I come up with another way to breathe some extra life into the blog (Suggestions are welcome! The asks are open!)

Let me ask you, are you full of ideas? Too many ideas even? Or perhaps you want a challenge, craving a true gauntlet. Do you wish to fully indulge in your desire for more Junko making out with Mikan media? Well look out for November 2025 because alongside it shall arrive-

A WHOLE MONTH OF JUNKAN! 

The prompt list will be released as soon as Junkan Week comes to a close, giving you nearly a full year to prepare! 

Keep in mind there is no requirement to do all 30 days! While I personally plan to do every prompt (It’s not my first rodeo with drawing a lot of art in November), I would be overjoyed by even the smallest participation! 

So whether you choose to go all in and do a full thirty days, or pop in to create something for a single day, we’re happy to have you! 

At the end of the day this is all just for the sake of bringing more Junkan into the world, whether it’s the twistedly toxic flavor of Evil Girlfriends, the tooth-rottingly fluffy Soft Style this account has been making for the past several weeks, or even somewhere delightfully inbetween!~ 

I hope you all look forward to the events, whether you plan to participate in either of them or just watch and have a good time! Have a lovely day!

[eikichi-supremacy]

hey so do you think wtv keiko had to deal with growing up with yusuke could be considered a type of parentification

[typhoonvash]

"Lame?! You opening a bakery means I can bum around and eat all your leftover donuts at the end of the day... and mayyybe sneak one fresh at the start of the day when you're still sleepy enough not to notice," Vash dares himself to do something that he's never allowed himself to do before: dream. His entire life has been stained with repentance and guilt—even once Knives was gone, it never made up for the thousands of lives lost because of his stupid actions 400 years ago. Ish.

The only dreams he's ever allowed himself are the ones he has for other people. Maybe that's what this is; it's not his dream, but it is Wolfwood's. This idea, this concept of an 'after' for him is worth protecting with his life—not that he plans on dying anytime soon. There's too much to do for Vash to die now, but if it's him or a future for Wolfwood, then...

Stop thinking like that, idiot.

Ah, so the Wolfwood in his head still exists, even as the real Wolfwood sits in front of him now. Perhaps, at some point, the little voice stopped being Wolfwood and became his own instead. It's probably not worth thinking about it right now.

"You are good at makin' stuff," Vash settles down now the other way, laying his head on Wolfwood's thighs. Comfy. "A lot more creative than you think you are. Always focused on improving, dedicated to perfection..."

Vash rubs his cheek against one, satisfied with Wolfwood's warmth and the slight give of the muscle as he lays on it. When he's done, the Plant settles the back of his head into the crease between his legs, eyes trained on the beautiful man above him. The dumbest man alive, falling in love with Vash the Stampede, and Vash can't be more grateful.

"That's my Nic. My Wolfwood. My partner, my honey, my beloved companion, my boyfriend, my everything, my..."

It's easy to fall back into the relationship they had before everything happened. Sweet, a little goofy, devoted, just... them. They have so much to talk about—so much that it could take days just to get through, maybe even weeks—but all Vash wants right now is to get home, take a shower, and hold Wolfwood as close as he possibly can.

"... My beau, my pookie... hmm, there are definitely more..."

Vash already knows the answer to that one, so he doesn’t need to dignify that with an answer. If anything, Vash ought to be more impressed that he hasn’t fought anyone else either. Petty is the most he can reach for when he can’t in good conscience retaliate to Vash’s protective incredulity. 

And then some.

Wolfwood sighs heavily, determined to take the hail of anxious questions in stride. In a way, it’s nice to be lectured instead of the other way around. It’s good. Good that Vash has something to focus on instead of his newfound doom and gloom, even if it means fixating on perceived self-neglect on Wolfwood’s part. He lets Vash fret all he wants.

Two hundred years, plenty worse for wear. He isn't a scientist. He doesn't know if he can fix Vash's erratic power surges. He just knows Vash doesn't have to figure it out or hide from it alone anymore.

“Oh, I was lookin’ to get started on self-care sometime this week or the next,” Wolfwood drawls lazily. He was in no particular rush to do anything but find Vash, and he’s accomplished that. The satisfaction of gazing back into Vash’s eyes, tinted a pretty shade of violet as they are like night blooms, is worth more than all the sleepless nights leading up to their reunion. There’s a certain thrill in their proximity and the frenzied ions in the air, like a two-step along the edge of a cliff in the middle of a burgeoning storm.

Zap!

Straight to his heart, that particular jolt of energy. Purple clings to the edges of his vision and he swears for a split second he can see the brilliant curving and angled Plant lines on Vash's skin, clear as day, and gone as quickly in the blink of an eye. Power: undeniably Plant, undeniably Vash. 

Something else, too.

He'd go so far as to call it love, except it's not his. Vash's love. Tender, sweet, like everything he's ever convinced himself he didn't deserve. The way Vash is looking at him, he isn't hallucinating. 

“Of course, ya damn idiot. And given a chance to do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a damn fuckin’ thing,” Wolfwood assures patiently. He leans his face fully into Vash’s hand, never once breaking eye contact from beneath his fringe of messy, dark bangs. 

Funny, when he thought of the future, he never really considered picturing himself in it. 

“I dunno,” Nicholas says slowly, taking a moment to really think about what he wants. Something that didn't involve the utter violence so much of his life was mired in. “Would be nice to just make stuff fer once.”

Woodwork was too personal. He had no desire to make his hobby into a profitable craft. 

“Somethin’ lame, I guess. Like openin’ a bakery.”

[trash-bin-ary]

I can go on that ramble about the future and housing and aromanticism though now. It’s like man, the future is already something that is so inconceivable to me. To then have the sexuality that does not allow me to slot in the cookie cutter you find a romantic partner that you end up moving in with is terrible. And like In this economy I sure can’t live alone, and I know at least when I’m sick I desperately want someone to be there. And then there’s I’m likely to move around a bunch how do you deal with that housing, other than the work having paid housing. like constantly having to find somewhere that’s looking for roommates and it isn’t terrible? And then long term, when I find a job I stay at for a while (that’s remote so I’d love to live in a remote place) is it like I find a place to stay and then I’m stuck there forever and I just have to hope that I make good friends at this new place. (Friends that don’t want to live exclusively with a romantic partner no less.) I want to live with close friends so bad and I’m not sure if that’s a feasible thing for my future. I’m a person that has so much hope so I have to assume that yes it will work out, I do believe that. But man just hearing someone mention it, sparks that hope.