#like don is a good player and all but have you considered

[redcherrykook]

── .˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ TENSION DEGREE 06

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College roomate!Jungkook x college roomate!reader- fwb 2 Lovers

You find yourself having to share your room with a very sexually active medical science major who so happens to fancy you. Good thing he´s as charming and spontaneous as you, leading to many crazy parties and places you probably should not be hooking up at. When Jungkook started ignoring all his booty calls after accidentally calling someone by your name, unable to fuck away the thought of you, he knew he was cooked. Would he really leave his playboy antics for that sweet company of yours?

series- six!

content: mild slow burn- fwb2l, roomates, mutual pining, player jungkook that falls devoted to reader, cocky!JK, Confident!reader, psychology major reader, banter, parties, lots of smut (duh), only one bed trope, skinny dipping, roadtrip vibes

episode- warnings: panty kink, male masturbation, Jk is absolutely whipped

Taglist: @khadeeeeej @ot7stansthings @whoa-jo @smoljjks @stvrlighytt @nono13bnd @jungshaking @junniesoleilkth @deepikhaprakash @rockstryoon @tatamicc @jjeonjjk7 @kookieandjoonberries @jcrl99 @httpjeonlicious @wnteraezz @aphrodyteeth @miniesjams32 @emojkoo @katie-tibo @user-190811 @massivebearharmony @hoseokteardrop @hoseoksluv89 @hoseoksluv90 @jeonsworld @jeonsbabygirlsworld

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Jungkook is going crazy right now.

His eyes scan over your closet door, falling on the little drawer at the bottom.

Chewing on his lip, he stays standing in the doorway, asking himself is he´s seriously that desperate.

the answer is yes, yes he is.

He can´t help himself, reaching inside the drawer filled with little lacy undergarments, reeking of your vanilla essence and fabric softener,

with a pounding heart, his delicate hands rummage until they land on his favorite pair of your panties,

purely lace, baby pink and more coverage at the butt, barely covering anything in the front.

You had worn them when he first saw you like that at the beach

His breath heaves, memories of your skin wrapped in it flooding back to him, reminding him how he pulled them to the side and shoved his entire length into you,

Sitting back on his own bed, his boxers pulled down and his throbbing, pink and leaking cock staring back at him, he knew there was no backing out now.

You haven´t kissed him since that incident eight days ago, haven´t let him shower with you, haven´t let his hands explore your skin

eight days, a huge deal for a retired fuckboy and to be honest, an even bigger deal considering you guys fuck like bunnies, whenever, where ever

Puling your skirt up in a dressing room, locking you both in a bathroom of a random party dorm, it didn´t matter,

if you wanted him, he needed you

He might be crazy for this, and maybe you would hate him if you saw it, but jungkook is loosing his mind with each rejected attempt

His hands itch to roam under your shirt, his lips impatient for the next taste of you,

Something is wrong, something you don´t want to tell him,

None of that matteres right now, now when he wraps his cock in with your lace undies, his hand covering the middle of him, slowly pumping himself with the help of the cute fabric,

´´oh fuck´´ , he mutters, throwing his head back, droplets of sweat forming on his temple,

his hand speeds up, imagining it to be yours, the friction on his tip making it even more sensitive,

jungkook whimpers almost pathetically, getting himself off with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth and his doe eyes shut tightly from pleasure, focused on the mental image of you, you everywhere, sitting on his cock, touching him, kissing him

He can´t stand it, but he needs you, he wants you

With a gasp like moan, the familiar throbbing of his tip unleashes, coating the pretty material in his cum,

with a heavy breath, his eyes open again, view spotting from the intensity

quietly, he watches the cum run down your panties,

´´I can´t believe i did that´´ he whispers to himself, gazing at his phone for the time

25 minutes until he´s gonna meet you on campus, having skipped his morning lesson to masturbate like a teenager,

He told you this morning, ´´leave without me, I don´t wanna go to first period, gotta get something done´´

Now that he remembers, why was your smile fading when he said that?

Why did you look drained of color when his phone buzzed right after?

It finally clicks for Jungkook.

´´Bunny, hey, sorry I´m late, i had to shower" he says, wrapping an arm around your waist as he approaches from behind

Your head turns to look at him, softly, a slight look of disappointment on your face,

quickly hiding it with a raised eybrow,

"It´s okay, just like maybe try to schedule your sessions later in the day, busy man" you chuckle, grabbing his cheeks before walking to the study hall,

Jungkook groans and jogs up behind you, "it wasn´t like that" he mutters, wrapping an arm around your shoulder

Although you tried your best to stay away from him physically until you´ve figured all this out, the way he´s so clingy recently is getting to you,

You miss him, you really do

In response to him, a hum escapes your lips,

"Chae asked me to come to this bar today, do you wanna go? Or are you busy?"

Jungkook wants to scream, thinking he´d rather be busy with you than you assuming all he does is sleep around,

"I´d go anywhere with you" he winks, sitting down on the chair and watching you sit down across from him,

sheepishly, a smile creeps up your face

"you´re cute, do you need something?" you chuckle, tilting your head as his fingers play with yours,

"Why?"

"You´re just being really sweet today, wondering if you either broke something or need anything"

he rolls his eyes, leaning forward a little bit,

the way your lips look right now has him captivated, desperate to kiss you,

"kinda do" he breaths out, "I want to kiss you again, but that´s not why I´m being nice"

"uh..god kook shut up" you bite your lip, turning away from his gaze,

"come on, why so shy? where´s your attitude bunny?" he teases and you swear you can hear the grin in his tone,

"If you come to the bar with me maybe i´ll kiss you, are you that desperate?" you try your best to return the energy, heart fluttering with his meaningless words,

if only you saw how desperate he was this morning, pumping his cock to the thought of you,

He snarks, retracting his hands,

"So desperate"

It´s your turn to roll your eyes now,

"Yeah, i guess so, am i scaring the girls off jeon? poor thing"

"There´s my girl and her nasty attitude"

You smile at him and he just smiles back, crossing his arms over his chest while he lets the sounds around just drown out, your eyes are enough to get lost in, enough to make him forget to answer your question

A part of you wanted to indulge yourself in his allure, let him sweet talk you into his submission, let yourself believe his siren like personality,

the other, much stronger part only wished he wouldn´t keep playing you like that, convinced that it´s all an illusion.

Quickly, that illusion shattered

"Once, please one time" you beg, giggling with a alcohol induced flush over your cheeks,

he shakes his head, smiling at your rosy face, "Hell no. I´d let you do anything bunny but come on? fruit roll up? that´s gross" laughing, both your hands tug on his exposed bicep, making a pouty face at him

"pleeease? I´ll eat it and give you head kook" his eyes widen, bursting out into a little fit of laughter,

"You´re crazy. If you let me eat whip cream of off you, we´ll do it" he says, pinching your cheek,

Before you can exclaim that this is definitely a deal, someone interrupts

"Hey Jungkook" a sweet, airy voice beams in your ears, a stark contrast to the louder music,

You turn to her first, swinging your dizzy figure to the side in the bar stool, eyes scanning over her with a smile,

she´s stunning, a tight dress hugging her body in all the right places, long blond hair framing the glow of her face,

Instinctively, you let go of his bicep, placing your hands to tug your own dress down

Jungkook turns too, a look of surprise in his eyes,

"Oh, hi Eri. what´s up?" he says, calmly

You look at the two of them, watching closely where he keeps his eyes but, they just flick back to you before landing on her face

"I should ask you that. You haven´t read my text since you gave me your number like, about two weeks ago" the flirty smile on her face looks good on her, even better when she takes a strand of her hair to play with,

Jungkook nods, "yeah, not really into it" he says and she visibly cringes, scoffing with a small smirk

"Oh? how´s that? Heard you also rejected yeji"

Jungkook´s eyes look back to yours, finding them glued on him,

you don´t miss the way he smiles at you before looking back to her,

the confusion in your system mixed with the vulnerability of the alcohol is creating too much space to interpret this,

he doesn´t make it any easier,

"Well, i just don´t wanna sleep around anymore. Got some´ else goin´ on. Good luck tho Eri"

For the first time this whole conversation, she looks over to you, nodding with a small grin on her pretty face,

"got it. Good luck to you too"

Silence fills your head as much as it does between you and kook,

"So? deal?" he nudges your side, but the silly convo from earlier doesn´t occupy you anymore,

The flower of hope he had watered has grown into a flourishing garden now, blooming inside your chest, clouding your senses with it´s beauty, with his scent, with being his all.

"Why didn´t you tell me?" you ask, sounding meek and fragile, your hands gliding over his skin, tracing his art

"Didn´t think it mattered, are you okay with that? with being.. exclusive like that?"

You look up to his face, finding it close to yours, feeling his breath on your cheek and his eyes glistening,

"Can i confess something?" you mumble, looking into your own reflection inside his large irises, reflecting the dim purple lights around you, painting him in a glow you´ve never seen him in before,

although it wasn´t the light that made him look so entirely yours,

"Anything pretty"

He scans over your strands falling off to the side effortlessly, to the rosy blush on your cheeks and the way your lipstick is a little smudged, before settling back on your enlarged eyes

"it makes me happy, having you to myself" slowly, a smile forms on his lips, his soft fingers find their way to caress your jaw, pulling you almost directly on to his lips,

desperate to meet you again, desperate to utter the words that have been running through his mind,

"I´ve been yours bunny, you just haven´t noticed"

and when you crash your lips down on his with the same grin you always give him,

he knew what had bothered you,

and he also knew that he just fixed it.

SORRY FOR THE SHORT CHAPTER ILYYY

[maybe-moonchild]

CH4 𓆣 James Potter x Slytherin Reader summary: the first match of the season arrives and you receive the last name 'POTTER'. wc: 6.3k ⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ

The first Saturday in November arrived and you were so nervous that you couldn’t eat breakfast. 

You’d barely been able to sleep either, having arrived at the dining hall earlier than necessary. Every nervous drum of your fingers against the table did nothing to calm your nerves. Absentmindedly pushing your eggs around your plate did nothing for your appetite to return.

Lance was in the same boat like usual, always a bundle of anxieties before each game. He was the picture of overthinking. His leg bounced before you finally nudged it with your knee. When you quit, Keith quit without a second thought. He’d been the Slytherin seeker, having spent the past five years going head to head with Lance to go after the snitch. 

“This is weird, huh?” Keith sighed as he slipped into the seat across from you. The two of you shared a grimace while Lance barely hummed in response. “I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t playing on game day.”

“First game. Fifth year,” Lance droned. “You had detention.”

Pausing from reaching over our friend, Keith considered that before shrugging. That checked out, you hadn’t won that game which had been a massive disappointment for your house. 

“Sounds like you’ll be catching a lot more snitches this year,” he teased and dropped eggs on his plate.

Lance mumbled something in Spanish. The only thing you could make out was something like ‘bite me’.

You nudged Lance's plate in his direction to get his attention. “Stop freaking out. They have a new Slytherin seeker. How good can they be?”

The Gryffindor shot you a flat look, “You’re  literally freaking out too.”

“So?” You scowled. “Different reasons.”

Keith tossed a breakfast potato at both of your heads to divert the tension. It was a weird morning and the last thing anyone needed was more weight hanging over the results of the match. 

“You,” he pointed at Lance, “Stop spiraling. I helped with tryouts last year, unless our house has been harboring a secret quidditch star, you're fine. They were all awful.”

Your smug look vanished when it was your turn to be pointed at. “You, also stop spiraling. If Gryffindor loses, Kaston never even needs to know you were involved. There. Now pass me the bacon.”

It didn’t take long for Remus and Peter to join you, soon followed by the other star players, Sirius and James. You were holding it together but every second that ticked closer to the start of the game just made the dam of panic harder to contain. 

“I’ll make sure to send a bludger directly into Kastons face,” Sirius winked as he slipped between Remus and Lance.

“Focus on the plays Black.”

James chuckled as he squeezed to sit beside you, nearly spilling Peter’s orange juice to make room. "Now, now, Padfoot," he said with a grin. "We want to win this match fair and square. No need to stoop to Kaston's level."

The atmosphere at the Gryffindor table was buzzing with excitement and anticipation. The first game of the season was always a big deal, and this one especially so, with the tension between Gryffindor and Slytherin running high this year.

Somehow, the act of Remus elbowing Sirius in the side looked incidental. “Don’t get disqualified in the first game of the season. You already know how thin of ice you're on already with McGonagall.”

“Watch it you tosser,” he muttered around a mouthful of breakfast. 

“Oh my god, please don’t get disqualified,” you groaned, covering your face in your hands. Someone clapped you on the shoulder but you didn’t bother to look up. “Why am I so nervous? I never got this nervous the past six years and I’m not even playing.”

“Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to catch the snitch in the first five seconds since I’m no longer up against Keith,” Lance joked, grinning at the bored looking Slytherin at his side, donned in his jersey. Keith always got Lance’s good sweaters considering he hoarded most of them the entire year. 

You were content enough to watch the game in the red and gold scarf, paired with the matching mittens. 

James tried to give you a reassuring smile, hoping to ease your worries. When you still hadn’t looked up, he sighed and lifted your head with one hand. "We'll do fine," he said, his tone comforting, yet determined. "We have practiced our asses off, and we know all of Kaston's tricks."

He knew this game was important to you. To him it was maybe even more personal than just... house pride.

“Now shush and eat something so you don’t make yourself sick. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

You held his gaze, glowering under his cheerful watch. James just leaned over you, his arm grazing yours as he dropped your favorite muffin on your plate. Letting him win, you picked up your muffin in defeat in the hopes that his good luck would continue and translate to the score.

“If I wasn’t so desperate for you to win,  I’d hope your karma comes in the form of a quaffle to the head,” you grumbled back,voice lacking any real bite.

“Here, I’ll hand feed you. Hand me your fork.”

“Taking it back. I hope you win and get a quaffle to the head.”

Eventually the players needed to head down to the locker rooms to get ready to warm up. The groups said their goodbyes, exchanging words of encouragement before splitting up. 

You joined the players, no one batting much of an eye that you were hanging around after you’d been doing it the past two months. 

“Kastons aim is better when he has the chance to be still. Odds are, if he’s not stopped, he’ll hit the bludger at the closest player, specifically to his left,” I rambled, going over what I could for the hundredth time in the past few days. “Simmons is faster when going up and to the right. When going to goal, aim down and left. Oh! And-”

James listened to you intently, his expression focused as he tied his shoes and pulled on his jersey. He knew how important this information was for the upcoming game, but at some point, what was done was done. There was no more drilling and studying that could be done besides applying everything he knew. 

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he glanced over at you, "I got it, I got it," he assured you, a hint of playful teasing in his tone. "I've got it down, don't worry."

He stood up and stretched, turning to face you fully. At some point over the past two months, his physical touch no longer felt foreign, his hands coming to grasp your shoulders until you relaxed. 

James smiled at you, eyebrow cocked as he waited for you to crack. It only took a few seconds before you folded, finding it impossible to do anything but bite down on your lip in semblance of remaining stoic. But James knew he had you when he grinned proudly. 

It was hard not to believe in him when he looked so damn sure of himself. 

Despite how obnoxious you’d always found him, you actually enjoyed spending the past few weeks scheming and strategizing. 

And as much as you hated Elias Kaston- which you did vehemently with a white hot passion- if he hadn’t ran you off the Slytherin quidditch team… well, you wouldn’t be standing there, face inches from James’s very pretty one. 

You liked being there. 

Seemingly satisfied that you were no longer about to fly off the handle, he stepped back to continue getting ready for the match. The match you had to believe he was going to successfully lead his team to win.

“I know. I know that. You’re… you’re great.” When you realized what you’d said, your eyes widened and you stuttered to correct yourself. “At quidditch. You’re great at quidditch and you’ll be fine.”

Damn it, the damage was already done. James couldn't help but grin as you corrected yourself, a mischievous glint flickering in his eyes. 

"What was that? You think I'm great? Sorry, did I hear that right? You did use the word great, yeah?" 

At the realization you’d just made his ego swell before your eyes, you hang your head in defeat. 

“Oh, I'm never going to hear the end of this,” you groaned under your breath, arms folding over your chest as you leaned back against the locker. 

Sirius grinned as he passed, “Oh you are certainly not.” You scowled when he clapped you on the shoulder. The two boys exchanged nods, Sirius first as if giving his friend the okay to do something. You were a bit too distracted taking a breath to calm your nerves that were threatening to bubble up again. 

Most of the team had either already slipped oJames reached for his bag, rummaging around for a moment before pulling out the extra jersey. He held it up, presenting it to you as he stood up from the bench.

"Here," he offered, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. "You better wear this and cheer extra loud for me. A good luck charm for us." 

out of the locker room and onto the pitch, the space growing quieter but the sound rising as students filled the stands. That was your cue to find the rest of the group and take your seat. 

James took a breath and reached for his bag, rummaging around for a moment. "Here," he offered, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. You barely managed to catch it as you held it up, inspecting it with furrowed brows.

It was his spare jersey. The shirt was the exact same as yours had once been, aside from the red and gold material and the name POTTER stitched on the back. You’d barely registered what it was before looking up to see James already back towards the door.

"You better wear this and cheer extra loud for me. A good luck charm for us." 

“Why?” you blurted out. All you received in response was a shrug, cheeky grin and a wink before he was gone, the curtains of the tent flapping closed behind him. That was it; he was gone and it was just you and his jersey remaining in the locker room. 

That was totally on purpose. 

You scoffed, mouth falling open in disbelief. “That asshole.”

For a while, you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but stare at. The material was familiar in your hands, making you frown as you studied it like it would make everything make sense. 

If you put it on, you were accepting something. You just didn’t know what that was. That was what scared you. Putting on this jersey wasn’t the same as throwing on one of Lance’s generic sweaters in support of the Gryffindors.

You wouldn’t just be supporting their house; you would be supporting James Potter specifically. You would be broadcasting that support right on your back. 

Not wearing it… well, it would be rude not  to wear it…

You were quick to strip off Lance’s scarf and toss it into his locker, slipping James’s jersey over your head. Maybe if you somehow did it fast enough, it wouldn’t have happened by your own doing. Like magic. 

Finding Peter, Remus and Keith in the sea of red took longer than you anticipated. It was a struggle to track their faces through the giddy students nearly bouncing in their seats. You pushed through to join them, ignoring their shared and knowing looks as you took your seat.

You had maybe three, whole seconds of peace. 

Keith grinned, his smirk widening as he studied the jersey you were wearing. "What's this? Trying to show some Gryffindor pride?" He teased playfully, bumping your shoulder with his own.

“Shut it.” You didn’t even turn in his direction, focusing up at the players warming up around the pitch. 

“Just saying.”

“You also ‘just said’ that there was something particularly softer about Lance’s sweaters-” your mumble was cut off by a playful swat of your head but you didn’t miss the pink flooding Keith's cheeks. 

“He doesn’t use magic to wash his clothes, they are softer.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved a dismissive hand in his direction, your eyes narrowing in Kastons direction when you saw him flying around. “I get it. I’m a real cheerleader.”

Remus, who was sitting on your other side, raised an eyebrow. While he said nothing, you knew he had something to say. Whatever it was, he kept it to himself and pretended to be very interested in the players above your heads. 

“Well, we are happy to have you in the stands with us today,” Peter said warmly as he leaned forward, flashing you a smile that you returned wholeheartedly. 

Watching the place you had once been spent all of your free time hurt, but not as badly as you’d anticipated it to. There was a flash of a moment that your eyes stung, throat constricting around the fact that your time playing quidditch had come to an end. As quickly as it came, it was gone; because it was okay. 

You’d get over it, you really would. That was clear now. 

You also had more fun with quidditch the past two months than you had the past six years. No one had undermined your abilities or ideas, your efforts were appreciated, taken into play. It just felt right. While you were a good player, maybe you were a better coach when you had a receptive team. 

James hovered in the center, running over your notes and information in his head as he accounted for all of the Slytherin players. His teammates worked on practice drills, warming up and exuding tenacity. 

The sight of you wearing his jersey caused a wide grin to spread across his face, and he fought hard to keep his focus on warming up and not swooning. The knowledge that you were proudly donning his jersey to watch him play had his heart racing with adrenaline.

Sirius' laughter rang out from where he was circling, slowing to a stop beside James. "You know, you’re  probably going to be insufferable after the game," he teased, his eyes glinting with amusement.

James couldn't help himself. He smirked up at Sirius, his eyes gleaming with a fire that couldn't be contained. "Oh, absolutely, Pads. I'll be riding this high for weeks. No, months. I'll ride this high for months."

A wry smile tugged at Sirius’s lips. "Months, eh?" He asked, arching an eyebrow playfully. "Are you sure it'll be months and not years?"

"Probably," James agreed with a nod, his cocky grin widening. He glanced down, his gaze resting on your form once again. Your eyes darted around the players, making it clear you were running plays through your own head like James was doing himself. Occasionally, you’d lean over and murmur something to Keith, directing him towards a Slytherin player with a nod of your head. 

James could get used to his name stretched across your back and he wasn’t even scared of that thought anymore. 

Gryffindor played with a ferocity and focus they had never played with before. Their plays were clean, flight patterns direct and intentional as the Slytherins struggled to catch up. They didn’t even know what hit them. Every move they made was calculated, as if they knew exactly what would happen next. Which they kinda did, thanks to you. 

James was unstoppable, relentless as he flew around the pitch, scoring goal after goal

Kaston's frustration was evident on his face and in his flying, his anger growing and making his bludger hits erratic. He lost control on where he was sending them and they rarely met their mark. 

You cheered. You cheered with every goal, cupping your hands around your mouth to yell with the crowd. The energy was electric and you were not disappointed at the experience. 

You couldn’t place the exact Kaston figured it out. At some point he had, likely when he saw you repping ‘Potter’ on your back and realized that all of Slytherin’s tactics had spread to their rival team. Which was why Sirius had to block three bludgers that Kaston had tried to hit into the stands, another attempt to take your head off and you weren’t even playing. 

No one seemed to notice that it was intentional aside from you and your friends around you. The game had become ruthless and fierce, with every score against Kaston sending a wave of pride and excitement through the crowd. The tension was palpable, the atmosphere charged with the intensity that was building between the players.

You were on the edge of your metaphorical seat when Lance and the new Slytherin seeker caught sight of the snitch. Given the score, 130 to 40, you expected the fight to catch the snitch would be more intense given it normally was between Keith and Lance. 

But no, Lance left him in the dust; easily weaving through the game in pursuit. 

And then, the moment you had all been waiting for – Lance finally caught it. The crowd went wild, cheering and screaming as the Gryffindor team surged forward, celebrating their victory. Your section erupted in celebration, the energy infectious as they all stood to cheer and yell in celebration.

You nearly lost your footing when Remus, Keith and Peter slung their arms over your shoulders, their whoops and hollers making you laugh. 

He had done it- well the entire team worked for the win- but James was the one that delivered his promise. He led his team to victory, kept his end of the deal to humiliate Kaston and his team after what they had done. They swarmed their captain, clapping for themselves and their performance. 

James, grinning brightly on his broom, shoving his dark hair off of his forehead and clapping his team on the back, had never looked more like the sun. 

There was a collective wince from the crowd when Kaston slammed right into James on their descent. You gasped as the force of the impact sent both boys tumbling to the ground. It didn’t stop there as Kaston and James grappled in the grass, their limbs twisting in a dangerous dance as both fought to regain control.

Your eyes were wide, completely taken aback at the blatant violence from your old teammate. Remus didn’t miss a beat, shoving at your shoulder to get you to move. 

“Go. Go. Go,” Remus urged and you moved, pushing Keith forward who complied. The four of you shoved through the crowd and down down the stands, all of the students starting to cheer or boo depending on their hoped outcome of the fight. 

By the time you got down there, fists were flying. 

Everyone was yelling as you jogged over, both teams adding fuel to the fire as they circled the altercation. Sirius was not attempting to hold James back, instead chest to chest with Alder as they shoved at each other. Lance was shouting to calm the two of them down but no one seemed to be listening. 

You slowed to a stop, hands flying to cover your mouth at the sight of James; his usual happy go lucky demeanor something else entirely. He was nearly unrecognizable, grappling on his back before managing to get the upper hand. 

Keith intervened first, like always, to run and step between Lance and Alder. Remus was moving forward in an instant, focusing on yanking Sirius back to keep the violence from spreading. You just stood there, unable to move. It wasn’t like you could really help at this moment.

Kaston's eyes were filled with fury as threw James off of him and onto the grass. "You think you've won," he spat, his voice laced with anger. "You think she's won this game for you. But you've got another thing coming."

"You think you can get away with that?" James shouted, his voice echoing across the field. "You'll pay for last year you Git!”

He moved fast, launching himself at the Slytherin captain with a violent intensity. A sickening crack echoed through the silence as his fist connected with Kastons’ jaw, sending him stumbling backwards with a pained cry. Your hands flew to cover your mouth in shock, unable to move from your spot beside a wide eyed Peter. 

Kaston roared in pain and anger, launching himself into the fight with a feral growl. He pounced forward, landing a hard punch of his own into James’s nose with a satisfying crack.

"You think you're above me, Potter," he growled, hatred seeping into every word. "But you're just a lucky prat with a pretty face. And she-“

James stumbled back from the intensity of the hit, his teeth gritted as the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. Anger flared through him like wildfire, his vision tinted red as he launched himself at Kaston once more. 

"Shut. Up," James growled, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps of air. His nostrils flared as he wiped his bloody nose on his forearm, his expression filled with rage. "Don't you dare mention her," he snarled. "Do you know what I'm going to do to you, you filthy rat?"

Sirius and Remus were trying to separate the two, but they weren't having much luck. Sirius pulled at James, trying his best to pry him off of Kaston. "James, snap out of it!" As Dumbledore and McGonagall, followed by Slughorn, crossed the field in a concerned hurry, you were at least thankful that no one was swinging anymore. 

Lance helped keep James at bay with the others. You were hardly surprised that Keith was trying to keep Kaston back, only because he didn’t have to be gentle with the asshole. 

Tension seemed to be dying down, the fire in their eyes starting to diminish as their flared nostrils turned to panted breaths. You were stunned and maybe you shouldn't have been considering Kaston tended to speak with violence. 

Kaston managed to make note of you, his eyes finding your place in the crowd. 

“Enjoy the mudblood, blood-traitor.” His sneer revealed his red tinged teeth before he spit near your feet. 

You sucked in a breath, stiffening at the word like it had delivered a blow to your own face. It set James off again, the boys stopping him mid lunge from landing another blow. 

"You don't get to speak to her like that," James seethed, his voice low and dangerous. He felt a fire surging through him, his teeth gritted, his fists clenched so hard that his knuckles were turning white.

But Remus held him back firmly, his eyes dark with anger. "Prongs, enough," he said, his voice low but stern. "You need to calm down."

“What on Earth- Potter! Mr. Kaston,” McGonagall shrieked, her voice cutting through the chaos. All of the spectators in the crowd barely quieted themselves but the players on the field were happy to fall still. “Enough! Both of you, to your locker rooms now!”

James’s shoulders heaved up and down but, without tearing his eyes away from Kaston, he let his friends tug at him until his feet moved. 

From the pursed lips and set stance of your professor, she clearly was livid, containing her emotions until she unleashed them later. Most likely that rage would be directed at Kaston because he had thrown the first punch and called you something no one should ever be called. 

“Both of you will report to my office immediately after you are presentable.”

It seemed Slughorn was in agreement as he curtly nodded, looking flabbergasted at the behavior of the new quidditch captain he’d picked for the Slytherin house. As if on cue, he caught your eye. Slughorn frowned and you looked towards the ground. It wasn’t like things couldn’t be pieced together now; why you’d turned down his offer to resume your position as captain for a second year after being so successful. 

If you could lift your head up, then you would've seen the matching frowns on Dumbledore’s and McGonagall’s faces, the two of them likely putting together the same events. 

The two groups retreated as they were told. Despite spending the past hour standing out in the November chill, you were hot all over. You watched James’s back, watched his head turn and he caught your eye. Instantly, the fire in his eyes seemed to dim immediately at the sight of your distress. 

James’s blood still boiled with anger and anger consumed him, but he forced himself to look away. He didn't want to see the look on your face – he didn't want to see the disappointment or disgust. He couldn't bear it.

And then he was gone, successfully shoved through the curtains of the Gryffindor locker room by Remus. 

“What the hell just happened?” you breathed out, eyes trained on the spot he had just disappeared. Only Peter remained at your side, the other boys having followed James to follow McGonagall orders. 

"Bloody hell," Peter muttered under his breath. "James went mad. I’ve never seen him so angry before."

Now that the show was over, the students' excitement began to settle, their interest no longer obtained as they trickled out of the stands. You glanced at the professors speaking in hushed tones as they huddled together. As soon as you made eye contact with McGonagall, it was clear that you were a part of their conversation. 

So you nudged Peter and nodded towards the exit. “Come on. Let’s head back and wait for them.”

It was almost an hour before Lance and Keith spilled into the Gryffindor dorm room, sans one James Potter. You and Peter had opted to sit on the beds in quiet- well you were quiet- quiet and appreciative of Peter filling the silence in an attempt to brighten the mood. 

They informed you that after James’s cool down, he’d gone off to have a stern talking to with McGonagall before being sent to the infirmary. It was clear by your fidgeting that you were dying to go there to see him.

You weren’t sure whether you wanted to hit him yourself or-

Oh. 

Oh.

Clearly you must’ve been more shaken up than you had thought if… kissing him… had been… instinctual…

That was weird.

Waiting around became too much after two minutes but no one seemed surprised when you shoved off the bed and out of the room. You had to remind yourself not to run through the halls, especially when the occasional student passing by glanced in your direction. The need to see him, see that he was okay and why he didn’t stop fighting him and ask him why you felt so overwhelmingly concerned for his stupid well being- you just needed to see him. 

You might've over compensated with your enthusiasm, shoving open the infirmary door a bit harder than you intended. You almost stumbled into the room, catching yourself before actually tripping. When you looked up, there were three pairs of eyes already on you. 

James sat up straighter immediately, his eyes wide in anticipation of your presence. His jersey had been exchanged for a dark colored sweater and jeans. That served as a reminder that you were still clad in his own jersey, the sleeves rolled up so you didn’t drown in its size. All traces of blood had been wiped from his face, his perfectly messy hair indicative that he’d showered before Madam Pomfrey cared for his injuries. 

There was little evidence of the fight at all. Aside from the faint bruises on his cheek, jaw, and nose that were already healing. You still were impressed with the magic of healing in the wizarding world.  

“Hi,” you said lamely.

Sirius had to look down in an effort to not laugh, receiving a subtle kick from Remus to shut up. 

James couldn't help but feel a tinge of anxiety as you took in his injuries, feeling self-conscious as your eyes studied his face. He still was unable to look away as he tried to guess what was running through your mind.

Perhaps you were disappointed or even disgusted at his behavior. 

“Hi,” James returned just as breathlessly. 

The boys exchanged a look before getting to their feet. If your presence wasn’t enough of a sign to leave you alone, then the long stare the two of you shared only solidified that their presence was unnecessary. Their movement in your peripheral finally made you look away and clear your throat. 

“Hey.” You greeted them again as you approached the bed just to break the quiet. 

“Hey, hey, hey! Look who it is!” Sirius called out, a beaming grin crossing his face at the sight of you. "The mastermind behind our win!”

From across the room, Remus raised an eyebrow and glanced at James, giving him a knowing look. He missed it entirely since he was too busy staring at you. Sirius' eyes twinkled with mirth as he greeted you with a mock salute to break the ice.

You shook your head, “No. That was all you guys. Congratulations. You played really well, cleanest game in a while.”

“Cleanest game I’d seen. Well, up until Kaston got his blood all over the field-”

“Padfoot, out. Now.” Remus just groaned silently, ensuring you and James that they would see you later as he pulled a pouting Sirius out of the infirmary. 

For the past hour, you hadn’t been able to get your brain to shut off. Memories had been playing on a loop, plaguing your mind with images of James’s head snapping back or the glob of blood tinged spit landing in the grass at your feet. 

But now, standing there in front of him, you couldn’t think of a single thing to say. 

You expelled all of the air from your cheeks just so there was sound before dropping down on the edge of the bed. A sudden urge to reach out and touch him shot through your nerves, insisting that you brush the hair from his forehead, to trace his split lip with your fingertip. Purple ebbed along his knuckles, matching the purple on the bridge of his nose under the frames of his glasses. 

“I think this was proof enough that you truly are the most dramatic person I’ve ever met.”

His shoulders sagged in relief, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, despite the pain that still coursed through him. He let out a soft chuckle, his eyes shining with warmth. You did the same, peeking up at him from your lashes to confirm some of the tension had broken. 

Your quiet voices carried along the stone, the empty infirmary lacking any audience. Kaston must’ve been recovering separately to prevent any more altercation. 

"What can I say," he shrugged, an easy grin spreading across his face, "if I'm going to get myself into trouble, I at least want to make it memorable."

“Oh, I’m aware.” You leaned over him to pick the half melted ice pack up from the table, tossing it between your hands absentmindedly. “How much detention did you get?”

"Oh, you know me, just a week's worth. Got an earful of it from Minnie.” He reached over and snatched the ice pack from your hands and placed it back on his shoulder, wincing at the cold. “Just her usual ‘hitting is wrong even if deserved’ and ‘leaning more on your back leg will land a harder hit’.”

There was more damage hidden under his sweater, the sling on the end table was evidence of that. You grimaced at the sight, guilt tugging the smile on your face into a frown. He’d really gotten hurt at the end of the match, hitting and getting hit in front of the entire school. 

You looked down and sighed, “Sorry. This shouldn’t have happened. That was… oh god… that was bad and you shouldn’t be sitting here like this.”

James shook his head instantly, looking somber as he scooted down the bed to sit next to you. 

“Hey, don’t apologize. I wanted to hit him, and he deserves it, honestly. He’s a prick. I should’ve done it before."

His hip brushed your lower back as he settled closer. your breath would’ve caught in your throat but you were too distracted by him reaching out to touch your chin. You let him nudge your head in his direction, reluctantly meeting his eye, unable to look away. 

“Can’t say I’m not jealous,” you snorted softly. “I’ve been itching to hit him since first year.”

Not trusting yourself, you kept your hands clasped together in your lap, attempting to suppress the urge to touch him back.

"Jealous? No need to be. I'd be happy to lend you my services any time. Just say the word, and I'll hold him down so you can land a hit or two.”

And then he smiled. 

Your stomach did that thing, a flipping sensation that you always associated with nose diving on your broom. Pulling up at the last second kept you from smashing every bone in your body. The risk only made the thrill more intense the longer you could go before giving in. 

Right then, you were well aware that you were horribly and irrevocably fucked.

James' hand didn’t fall away when you looked down at the comforter. He only secured the home of his touch on your face, cupping your jaw with the faintest of touches. 

“Congratulations, by the way,” you said after a long second, voice softening unsurely under his stare. 

"For what? The fight or the win?" he asked, ducking his head to try and meet your eye. James got quieter as he found it harder to bite down his smile. "For being so great?" 

You rolled your eyes but the flat look you tried to give him was far too fond to do any damage. All it did was make you aware of how close the two of you were. 

“All three. It was great,” I breathed out, leaning into his hand as we sat side by side on the edge of the infirmary bed. “It was really great.”

"Not as great as seeing you in my jersey." His hand on your cheek grew firmer as he allowed himself to feel the warmth of your skin against his fingertips.

Your head was beginning to spin, thoughts tangled in a dizzying mess of questions and desires. But amid the chaos, one thing remained clear: you enjoyed being with him, more than you ever had thought possible.

James Potter had an ego the size of a lake, but a heart to match.

James’s leg dangled off the edge of the infirm bed, the toe on his hightop grazing your own. The other was tucked under him, adding more contact between his shin and your thigh. The two of you had spent the past two months bumping elbows, his chest brushing against your back when he’d lean from behind you to read something over your shoulder. 

At the beginning of the year, his touch made you tense, you’d hold your breath until the moment passed. Along the way, it stopped feeling like your heart was thrown off the top of the astronomy tower as you formed a routine together. 

This was different. This was intentional. 

You wondered if he could feel how hot your face was under his palm. It was almost embarrassing, how you felt like one of the first year girls that would giggle with their friends as he ran past. It would’ve been embarrassing if it didn’t feel so good. So you leaned your head into his hand.

“You make no sense. It’s like, anytime I think I have you figured out, I realize I have you all wrong, again.”

With a cocky grin, he leaned in towards you, his face mere inches from yours. "Ah, but that's what makes me interesting, isn’t it?" he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Keeps you on your toes, keeps you guessing. I'm a complete mystery. I don't even understand myself sometimes." 

You scoffed and he leaned a bit closer, the warmth of his breath now brushing against your cheek. "But isn't that what makes me so fascinating?”

“I still think the most fascinating thing about you is how you manage to get your massive head in the air with your broom,” you murmured.

“Oh, you thought my head was big before? Just wait until you see how big it is after I do this.”

James closed the distance, his mouth finding yours with ease. His thumb slid under your chin to tilt your head back, allowing him to lean further over you. 

You’d had your fair share of kisses over the past few years, but none had ever felt like this. This was like drinking liquid luck until you got sick. You gripped his collar, pulling yourself closer and he was happy to wrap an arm around your waist to tug you closer. 

Every sense was heightened, the touch of his mouth sending your mind spiraling. Everything faded away, the world narrowing down to the feeling of his tongue swiping your bottom lip, the slight weight of his hand resting against the side of your neck, the sound of your own uneven breaths.

This was what it must have been like to taste the sun. It was like laying under an open window and basking in the early morning light on the first day of summer. Tangling your hands in his hair was like growing roots into the earth as it orbited around the sun.

You were burning alive and nothing had ever felt better. 

The two of you pulled back after what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, your breathing ragged and eyes wide. You searched his face for any sign of dislike and were ecstatic when you couldn’t even imagine what that would like on his face. 

Not when the two of you were breaking into smiles. 

If you had thought James Potter glowed before, now he was blinding.

“Yeah,” he drew out and brushed your hair behind your ear. “I’m about to be insufferable now that I’ve finally done that.”

quid pro quo master list here

[riririnnnn]

As I mentioned in my post earlier:

His cuff (that thing around his neck) is near transparent which gives us a lot of room to ponder since we don't exactly know what this chain even represent.

Taking Hiori as an example, let's suppose the chain represents the burden that holds back someone's true ego.

His cuff being transparent gives us two things:

1. It might be plastic which doesn't really make any sense if I were to be honest.

2. It is glass which makes a lot of sense because how's glass? Hell yeah, my geniuses, glass is really fragile which completely fits into what he said:

Further, in that volume cover, he has pulled down his collar which puts a lot of spotlight into his blue rose tattoo, and we all know what that tattoo symbolises for Kaiser.

In case you don't remember: Kaiser got this tattoo as a reminder to himself to never fall back into his weak mentality because Blue Rose symbolises the achievement of impossible, and he saw it as an example to turn impossible to reality since Blue Rose, itself, is artificial and defies the natural order.

What is said above can be found with a quick Google search:

But what grabbed my most attention is this panel:

WHY?

If he only wanted to push the soccer industry to despair, then why he is adamant about winning the Champions league and the World Cup?????

Also, contrary to popular beliefs, I don't actually think Kaiser has a superiority complex because, look:

What Chris said could be considered as an exaggerated way to rile someone, but isn't this, indirectly, exactly what Kaiser says after the Manshine City match ended?

Kaiser said something along the lines of, "BM's main character is Noa and it's impossible for me to be the current number one, that's why I came to NEL to use Isagi as a way to increase my value." He even went as far as to say that he is a secondary character in BM because BM is Noa's team.

I don't think so that anyone with superior complex will admit such real facts.

Further, why did he got so angry when Chris said those things? Isn't someone bound to be angrier if the other one was to point out their obvious weak point? So, does this mean, Kaiser actually got an inferior complex?

I'm not a psychologist, so I'm not dwelling too much into it.

However, there is another thing I want to point out:

So, because of that spreadsheet/official art of a very damaged soccer ball beside Kaiser's foot, the Fandom widely believes that Kaiser was poor while growing up .

BUT!

Being poor as a backstory has already been used three times: Naruhaya Asahi, Noel Noa, and Lorenzo Don.

I understand that in any sector with a lot of money and/or fame, there are many people who come from a poor economic background, but this is fiction, baby. No author wants anything be repeated to the point it feels overused.

That's why, I highly believe that Kaiser was either bullied or mistreated by his seniors when he started playing soccer which explains that he practiced fucking hard that the soccer ball was damaged, and also his supposed hatred towards the soccer industry. It also explains his long, unkempt hair because he was too indulged in practice.

OR!

It goes a bit darker, so proceed with caution:

Soccer somehow destroyed his family's peace just like the brotherhood of Itoshi brothers.

I may write about others in another post, but in this post, I would like to think that the person who destroyed his family's peace was his own father. It could be that his father was a soccer player himself and due to some circumstances, he fell off the soccer industry which took a toll on his mental health, and he started physically abusing either Kaiser, his mom or both.

Why physical abuse? Because Kaiser is shown having an affinity to choking.

If we get our minds out of the gutter, then there have been instances when he choked himself because he was frustrated. Also, didn't he say that he stroked his rose tattoo as a good luck before matches and compared it to, "as if tightening a noose," or something.

That's why, I kinda think that, AT LEAST, someone has choked Kaiser as abuse/bullying.

I'll rant about the above thing in another post tomorrow or some time later because I don't want this post to be too long, and also because I'm hungry af.

.

.

.

I remember a vivid dream when Kaiser threatened me to join BM.

[friedrice15]

Marco Reus.

Where do I begin?

Loyal? Captain? Faithful? Teacher?

To many of us Dortmund fans, Marco Reus is the man who made us fans of the club. He spent 22 years with us, from youth ranks to the first team, and almost every moment in between. Not all of us have seen the whole journey, but that is okay.

We saw what we could, and each time, we were mesmerized. Mesmerized by his goal scoring ability, his vision, his off the ball movement, and all other fancy football terms. He is undoubtedly the best to ever wear the black and yellow, to don the schwarz-gelb, to play in the Westfalenstadion. He is the kind of player that as a child, we would stay up late to watch YouTube highlight compilations of, just to rewatch his magic.

His aesthetics aren’t typically what he is known for, though. What has always defined his career to non Dortmund supporters has been his loyalty to the club, his ever lasting trust in us. From when he renewed his contract when we were in the relegation zone, to when he stuck by us after each and every lost game, ruined DFB Pokal competitions, titles that slipped through our fingers by just a hair, and most recently, our second place finish in the UCL final, he always dusted himself off and told us that he would always stand with us through our struggles.

Never considering a move to Real Madrid, Barcelona, Juventus, or any other club while in his prime and their peak, he solidified himself as the best player to grace a “second rate team in the farmers league,” as so many doubters liked to put it. He had raised the Dortmund level so much, showed his abilities, his resilience, and faithfulness to the badge. Each time an elite club came asking for his services, the answer was always the same: “No, I want to stay at Dortmund,” or, “No amount of money will make me leave.” He has become synonymous with Borussia Dortmund. When people ask what’s so special about this club, the answer is will always be, “Marco Reus. He is Dortmund.”

Now he is leaving. He isn’t leaving in the way any of us wanted, no UCL, no title, but he leaves as our biggest ever legend. He wasn’t even the one to make the choice, which saddens us all, but like all good things, his time at Dortmund must come to an end.

He may not have as many trophies as Robert Lewandowski, or the pure skill of Messi, or the presence of Ronaldo, but he’s still just as memorable as them. When looking at lists of the best players of our generation his name will always be on the list.

Thank you for everything, Marco. I hope I’ll see you at the club again one day.

[canarydarity]

(mooooooooooore DL rancher angst. because what else am I good for </3 /j)

No matter how you looked at it, the knock was startlingly out of place; it was late, late enough that a truce-like state should have fallen over the players, late enough that no one would want to risk running into more mobs than they could handle; it was peaceful, they hadn’t accrued more than a single pair of red names so far, and he didn’t think they’d given Ren and Bigb a reason to come after them—at least, not more than anyone else had; it was also them, all season people had been coming and going from the ranch as they pleased, not an ounce of courtesy in sight. If someone really wanted to come in, they woulda just done it. 

So, all in all…a knock?

Tango was already up and halfway across the room by the time his brain had synthesized these as the reasons why. 

Behind him, Jimmy called a wobbly and worried “Tangooo?” 

“Just,” Tango threw a hand backward towards the bed in hopes of staving off Jimmy’s shadow until he figured out what was going on. “Stay there, for a second.” 

Like some cut-off had been reached, the second he was close enough to wrap his hand around the handle all haste had vanished—the feeling of urgency holding a negative association with his proximity to the door. He’d had the nerve to get up, to get himself there, but getting his hand to turn and push was an entirely different thing. 

The door not yet having been opened, the possibility of what was waiting for him on the other side yawned and stretched towards endless. In a way, not knowing but speculating was worse than just opening the damn thing and facing the one singular scenario that was, but that was why he struggled to do it. Schrodinger’s danger—this was stupid; Tango opened the door. 

No one was there. 

He blinked in the face of its emptiness for a moment. Of all the situations he had considered, absolutely zero of them included opening the door to nothing. The one definite thing a knock spoke to was the presence of someone—something. So, what, they risked the middle of the night in peace times to come to the ranch they all loved barging into anyway to ding-dong ditch? That seemed, like, a gazillion times more unlikely.  

Tango moved to shut the door, trying to shake off the adrenaline, the too-familiar feeling of someone else being a step ahead of him and bemused by it. He ducked to turn back to Jimmy, play the brave one, laugh it off in hopes Jimmy would follow, and then, he saw: just a glint in the corner of his eye, something small and shiny on the doorstep. 

A golden apple. 

Tango stared at it the way you’d stare at a car crash you hadn’t the chance to get out of the way of in time, the look a doctor had in their eye when they announced your prognosis was bad, abysmal, terminal. It was the brightest thing for yards—a glowing, unignorable fixed point; the kind of bright that in tree frogs usually indicated poisonous, the kind of glowy cartoonists made chemicals when they wanted you to know falling in would reduce you to bones. And it just sat there. 

“Tango,” behind him, the bed creaked. “What is it?” 

Urgency returned, and, with renewed purpose, Tango moved once more. Fear flooded his senses again—it hadn’t really gotten very far to begin with—but this time it was of a different breed, born from someplace else. He tried to both square himself in the doorway, block the view out, and regain nonchalance, affecting some sort of behavior that would convince Jimmy to just leave things be. “Nothing, don—”

But Jimmy was already behind him, and Tango wasn’t tall enough to obstruct his line of sight. 

“Oh.”

And it sort of felt like Tango had failed. Failed what he didn’t know but by the stone in his stomach he knew that he had. He tracked the feeling all the way down his throat and through his middle, getting hooked and snagging on his organs as it went, pulling them with it until he was completely out of alignment, rearranged all wrong; the moment where you opened a test booklet and realized you didn’t know a single answer. 

He shook his head, an aborted no becoming no more than a breath that passed his lips at just the right angle to whistle or whine. He bent down and picked up the apple, and, no sooner than he stood again, lobbed it down the hill towards the ravine in some effort to rectify even a modicum of his uselessness. The apple thunked hard into the dewy late-night grass, probably rolled somewhere out of the way; he didn’t know, he couldn't see it anymore—he’d have to grab it and dispose of it at some point, but he could do that in the morning. He had other things to attend to. 

Tango shut the door and turned to assess the damage. 

Jimmy’s arms were goosebumped where they were exposed—just his white undershirt left on to sleep in—and his head was tilted down, the top of it visible to Tango more than anything else, his hair not mused enough yet to be called bedhead though it was certainly a start. Tango took a step towards him, crowded him just a little, placed one of his hands on Jimmy’s waist, skin warmth bleeding through the thin cotton, and the other on the junction where his shoulder met his neck. Jimmy stayed looking down. 

Tango couldn’t think of a single fucking thing to say. 

After a few seconds, Jimmy sniffled, pulled up one of his hands and ran it across his nose, mushed it into his cheek. 

“Hey,” he ventured softly, in the absence of any other thought. Jimmy only glanced up slightly. “Let's…go back to bed, yeah?”

If it hadn’t already been clear that all chances of sleep had been banished by the panic of a late-night knock, it was by the way they both responded to that statement by sitting on the side of the bed rather than lying back down. A haze had fallen over the room, a trance-like state prompting them to move in the way they thought they should, in the way it seemed they were being directed; their actions pre-determined, someone else's hand on the joystick. Robotically, they maneuvered onto the bed side-by-side, silence still reigning, eye contact (from one party) still vehemently denied.  

And it just…wasn’t fair. The way there was no period of wondering between the discovery and the understanding, the way Tango didn’t see the apple and question why it was there, but rather knew, innately, what was being poked, prodded at. He hadn’t stopped to doubt, he hadn’t been confused, and maybe that’s what was the most upsetting—not the presence of the apple alone, but the way the person who left it was confident its message would be interpreted without fail. The way Tango was complicit by letting it.

It was the fact that he hadn’t opened the door to a trap or an ambush, but to a taunt; the apple not left behind as some sort of distraction, someone waiting to break in the back while they looked out the front, but as something else entirely, something completely unrelated to the game and its progression. There were no hidden motives, no ulterior plans—only the sadistic amusement that came with throwing a rock into a pond just to see the fish scatter. It didn’t put whoever did it ahead, it didn’t force them to fall any more behind. It just was, and it was cruel. 

Jimmy was still silently staring at the opposing wall, the both of them not even bothering to pretend they weren’t dwelling, and the more Tango sat in the discomfort that had fallen over the ranch, the more he thought, the angrier he got. He couldn’t just be here anymore and not do a single fucking thing about it. He leaned nearly entirely off the bed in his reach for his shoes, shoved his feet into them without precision or care about their security, and was up, diverting on his way towards the door to scrunch the fabric of his vest and pull it off the back of the chair it rested on, before turning on his heel and then he was off—

He was stopped with a hand gripping his forearm in its passing by, came to with Jimmy shouting “Tango!” for what he knew likely wasn’t the first time. 

Tango looked. Jimmy hadn’t gotten off the bed, but he’d leaned forward to latch onto Tango and stop his campaign, his eyebrows raised in misery, his lips downturned in upset. He wasn’t looking away, just around; his eyes landing on the wall behind where Tango was standing, on the door that had remained quiet since they’d shut it again, on Tango’s chest, or his hand around Tango’s arm. It was the closest Tango had gotten to eye contact in minutes. 

“What are you gonna walk around in the dark ‘til you find who put that there?”

Yes, if he had to—if that’s what it took. But before he could even begin to open his mouth, Jimmy pled, “Tango…” like he hadn’t really been asking, like he’d been hoping saying it would confirm Tango knew that idea was nonsense, not that Tango had been meaning to try regardless. It begged for common sense, it betrayed its wish to concede. 

Tango let out all the air he’d reserved for his returning argument as a heavy breath, almost a sigh, a huff. Its frustration was clear. He knew he wasn’t going to find them, he knew there was no conclusion to be had, he knew the joke had already hit and the moment had already ended. He knew that. But he also knew that complacency wasn’t the answer, and that Jimmy deserved to be fought for. 

He could’ve gone out anyway, walked around until the sun started coming up and all the mobs turned to ash—hell, he could’ve knocked on goddamn doors, inspired the same kind of fear in everyone else that a late night interruption in a game like this did them, and then demanded answers, no more Mr. nice guy. At least that way, he wouldn’t have had to lay back down, to have the conversation he hadn’t stopped thinking about since. 

But Jimmy said, “Can we just go back to bed? Please?” And knew it was a request that couldn’t be denied, knew the power in this interaction that being the victim afforded him, and knew how to play his cards to get Tango to fold. 

Tango took his shoes off, again, kicked them out of the way of the bed, gestured behind Jimmy with the hand that wasn’t being detained. Jimmy scooted backward on the bed, Tango’s forearm still in hand like the moment he let go Tango would dash immediately out the door, or dematerialize entirely, maybe; or even…run down the hill in search of something shimmering gold, and find himself unable to resist just one sweet bite. Tango followed him, nudged his shoulder until he complied and laid back down, allowing Tango to pull him closer as he did too. 

Jimmy still didn’t look at him. They were nearly eye to eye, only one pillow to share between them both, face to face in the dark; their foreheads leaning against one another, shifting away only to find each other again after any and all movement. 

Tango watched the sentence form on Jimmy's lips, watched his face rearrange throughout the composing of the question, the stringing of the words in a line, packaging them to be delivered. He swallowed as he awaited its transmission. 

“If it weren’t against the rules, would you…?”

And Tango said, “It is against the rules,” before that could get any further. The wrong answer. He knew immediately after he said it that it was, and he’d kick himself for it if he could any feasibly at all without getting Jimmy in the crossfire. He knew better than to give a non-answer, but he hadn’t been responding to the actual question, his first thought only stop—a futile hope he could head off Jimmy’s negative feedback loop by undermining it at its core. Another failure on his part. 

Jimmy closed his eyes, shook his head, “But if it weren’t—”

“No.” 

Tango placed one of his hands on Jimmy’s cheek, tilted his head back up towards his, but Jimmy’s eyes remained trained down. “No,” he repeated—he insisted. He didn’t need the eye contact to know Jimmy didn’t believe him. 

He leaned up and kissed Jimmy on the forehead, slid his hand from his cheek to the back of his neck and held him closer, but neither of them fell asleep for a while.

[three-headed-monster]

brandt/luke: a primer

i'm gonna be super honest, there's nothing that's prompting this. it's quite literally self-indulgent for me to archive their interactions before i forget them all!

so hello ! welcome ! if you're here, i presume you're clicking because you're like 'what the fuck is this, luke hughes and who now?' and yeah that would be me too if i didn't know the background information

but it exists!!! and it has spiralled far beyond my wildest dreams and become an actual Thing that i would consider one of the ships i ride the HARDEST for!!!!!! that i have somehow convinced my closest friends to also ride for, which is the biggest accomplishment for a ship, as we all know

here's who the ship consists of:

luke hughes!

(sorry he looks cursed but this is not a post about how attractive he is)

he was the 4th overall pick in the 2021 draft or smth, no big deal, just comes from an extremely talented hockey family and plays with his brother in new jersey now. used to play at the university of michigan, which unfortunately is an important setting for many, many rarepair ships. don't know if there are really any fun facts about him but he used to model for american eagle and got made fun of for that

anyways here's the second person in the ship, brandt clarke !

(did i choose a significantly better looking photo of him for this than with luke? yes, absolutely, because it's important that you think he's attractive)

8th overall pick to the la kings, former don mills flyer with shane wright and brennan othmann, former barrie colts captain, friends with jack quinn, etc etc. you may actually know him from that time he tried to jump the glass and fight a fan in the stands, i think that video went p viral on hockey twitter. the most important thing you know though is that he has more attitude and swagger in his pinky finger than the majority of people have in their whole BODY

so let's venture back to 2022, and how this all started, with a conversation between me and @fifthovertime about the greater toronto area and its hockey connections

toronto, as many might know, is considered a hockey hotbed, due to its abundance of minor hockey teams. it's where a lot of nhl players come from, and where a lot of players call home and return to in the summers.

luke, prior to moving to michigan with his parents and brothers so quinn could play with the ntdp, used to live in toronto while his dad worked for the leafs. at this time, there were a lot of other young budding stars in the area, brandt clarke included. he'd moved down from ottawa to play on a minor midget team in toronto, the don mills flyers, which was rival minor hockey team to luke's. however, since the toronto hockey scene was so tight (and because brandt's older brother was playing with luke's on the same team), they would periodically see each other and play pond hockey together. as kids do.

don't believe me? hear it from brandt himself. timestamp from about 2:55 of the video to about 3:55.

this is what i like to call interaction #1. of course, it's really just brandt retelling a story, but it's the first time i heard about any sort of friendship between the hughes brothers and the clarkes. very wholesome, you can tell brandt really has a hero complex for luke and jack, it's frankly adorable.

and if you go back, you can even see that brandt was a really supportive friend! he commented on luke’s commitment post to umich and luke liked the comment, at the time

but they’re not friends. no, i’d call them far from that. because slowly....you can start to see that hatred is building........because brandt starts to know he's good enough to go fourth overall. and he would love to go to a team with his brother on it.....but there's another brother standing in the way of that.

he doesn't speak about luke in particular in this interview, but he definitely talks about njd as if he doesn't think it's a realistic option for him

at this point then, the narrative is pretty clear. it was once a friendship, that slipped away from both of them because of distance, and although brandt once had reverence for it, he’s soured on the idea. he wishes he could be good enough to play with his brother too. he hates that luke hughes is good enough at hockey to do it. luke to him is less so an extension of his brothers, but an obstacle for brandt to overcome, an obstacle that stands in the way of everything he wants.

but so far it’s been pretty one sided…right? it’s all kind of just been brandt’s feelings toward luke, right?

behold, the glorious moment that lives entirely rent free in my mind, every. single. day.

i soooo wish i had the video for this (screw tsn for wiping their archives so often) BUT TRUST WHEN I WATCHED IT FOR THE FIRST TIME I AUDIBLY GASPED.

he said it with so much fucking snark, and an EYE ROLL. the inflappable luke hughes, who has seemingly never let an opponent get in the way of him and his friends having fun and kicking ass at the same time, is bothered by a dig from brandt clarke. that didn't even mention him directly! that was more about techniques of the game than it was about the usa players! "he can say what he wants", but he didn't even say anything about YOU

genuinely, i will thank mark masters for bringing this up with luke forever, he's so valid for that, he knew we needed this narrative.

what's even better is that THE NEXT DAY during the semi-final? guess who scores the game-winning goal. and guess who just happens to be flopping like a fish on the ice during it, trying to prevent it from going in.

and thus brandt/luke is born! as taylor describes it as, it is bitch ass cunt (luke) for cunt ass bitch (brandt). they are each other's equals and opposites. they're both cocky and sure of themselves and can give it as good as it gets, and what they like about each other is what happens when that is stripped away. they are undoubtedly MY favourite luke hughes narrative, and the only one i feel truly captures his narrative essence, away from his brothers. sure, others are cute and i can see where people are coming from, but nothing gets luke as much as this gets luke.

this is luke, unfiltered, and it's only brandt that can bring it out of him.

[triglycercule]

I need to ask the mtt expert, do you think any of the murder trio would be religious?

ooooof this is a hard question to answer because personally i dont practice any religions specifically so i cant exactly offer the best answer to this DXXXX but i'll TRY. take everything i say with the fattest grain of salt. imagine the grain of salt is a salt lamp because i genuinely dont know that much about religion and belief

so i guess the first thing to consider is sans undertale since he's the one that all the mtt originate from. i dont think sans canonically is religious like at all. so if i wanted to take the easy route i COULD just says sans doesn't worship anything so its unlikely that any of the mtt would. but i wont because i have honor. i doubt that any of our surfaceworld religions wouldve made it into the underground since theyve been seperated from humanity for a long ass time. and i think undertale has its own belief based on the delta rune anyways so im gonna stick to that since it seems more plausible than just saying that dust is a hardcore buddist or something

for horror my answer like hell no. he mightve prayed for the angel described in the delta rune to save horrortale or something but i think those are just like desperate times call for shitty tries for ANYTHING to work. he literally describes horrortale as "living in a place like this is like living through an eternal hell" and i think that being in a place like horrortale would kill anyone's hope for some sort of angel to save them. plus i think he's too aware of the issues going on in horrortale to try and put his faith into something that doesn't exist AND also he wouldn't use religion as a moral guide. considering that he literally said in the horrortale flash game that he's "given up on figuring out what's right and what's wrong" (my king with an absolutely terrible moral compass LET'S GOOOOOO) (i love the horrortale flash game. i even have the quote saved because its such a good and important line for horror)

as for dust i think there's more of a possibility of him being religious (undertale delta rune based religion not any of the real world ones). the delta rune says that an angel who has seen the surface will descend from above and bring us freedom OR a harbinger of destruction as the angel of death, waiting to free monsterkind from this mortal realm. mostly gerson's words i stole this from the wiki because i cant be bothered to play undertale more than once. when translating dust's canon fics SPECIFICALLY the one called "a true hero appears" the topic of dust "liberating" the monsters of the underground and "granting their wish" to be free (even though he himself doesn't believe in the underground ever being free especially while hes in the middle of his "mad time") comes up. i dont think dust views himself as an angel at ALL like described in the prophecy but he could view himself as a "savior" type of person. it could be a really coincidental coincidence or it could be dust deciding to take up the role of the angel except a really really shitty one out of a desperate try for something to help like i mentioned with horror earlier. if we're going this route then him taking up the role of the angel could provide a sense of comfort that religion does and also shape his moral compass (i keep bringing these 2 things up because idrk why people worship. so i researched why so i can better support my arguments!!) with all the salvation liberation bullshit. personally i dont think that dust would exactly believe in himself as THE delta rune angel but more of just some sort of rouge savior but the possibility of going in a more delta rune religious way IS there

killer is in a completely different situation than dust and horror here (i'm not like the rest of yall ahh. get back in the original fishbowl you goldfish fuck) because he's AWARE of what arguably could be considered god in an utmv context. and obviously that's US the creators (players in his eyes. smh dont you know i havent played undertale in forever. i needa go back and do a true pacifist run. i did neutral because im shit at dodging attacks. but call me a CREATOR you second dimensional FUCK. you are a lower concept than me call me by a name i DESERVE) because for some reason and i completely forgot why he's aware of the creators. i think this could go in maybe two different ways where since killer is very much so aware that there are millions of gods(/creators. every one of us that creates something for utmv is a god in their multiverse LMAOOO) out there that he could completely just avoid religion itself since the usual reasons of comfort and moral alignment are completely debunked and pointless once you know that the gods that you could believe in just view you as code or characters to play around with. no comfort or morals to align with there. OR it could go in another direction where since killer is aware of the creators that he actually does end up worshiping SOME sort of us-based religion??? (what would that be called. do you think that theres a religion for all the self aware utmv characters who believe in creators. creatism. creationism. idk but would ink be the leader of that??? prophet type ass guy for creatism. this would be a cool concept someone else steal this from me and make a cooler story with it.) anyways i got side tracked. doesn't killer already believe that he has to do things that the creators want or something??? which COULD provide the moral compass part of religion. its definitely not a good moral compass but whatever killer believes his god wants of him he'll do. and also it might provide some sort of nihilistic depressive comfort knowing that everything is out of his hands and predetermined by a higher being. he already has that whole "lowly servant who'll do whats ordered of him" type shit going on. not unlikely that that could apply to the creators (or chara possibly. that relationship would be interesting if killer viewed them as a god and worshipped them as such. HM.)

anyways those are my thoughts on if i think the murder time trio would be religious. this was actually way longer than i expected but maybe thats just because i ramble a lot and have a lot of side thoughts. PERSONALLY i dont think any of them would worship a god just because i dont practice any religion and it makes it easier for me to characterize them without the religious barrier there. but also i do think there are possiblities of the trio all believing in a god (with horror maybe hopelessly believing the in the delta rune, dust becoming a delta rune esque figure, and killer's entire schtick with knowing about creators) but everyone has their own fanon interpretations on these characters!!! so if you wanna make them believe in religion or something then go then ahead and do that. maybe those possible points i brought up where they could worship a god will inspire someone or something idk. triglycercule OUT (off to reread horrortale for the 20th time today)

[3416]

I really love equally 16-34-88.

It’s interesting the interchanging of the attitude of the fans and media towards William and Mitch.

For years, William was criticized over and over again. His relaxed and laid back attitude. His game. And his contract year back in 2018, he was in those trenches. And anyone who said anything positive about him was called crazy. And also, Don Cherry and his low key like discriminatory remarks due to the fact that he was Swedish and not the tough goon kind of playing style. He was also kind of the « guinea pig » (always changing line mates, and lines—and last year we saw that too, he’s always moving and they always throw new stuff) and he was , out of the core, the punching bag.

Now, Mitchy has always been criticized because of the toxic hyper masculine mindset of many hockey fans: he’s boyish and not buff and tough and all that jazz. But, he never got the hate and disrespect that he is getting at the end of last season and right now. He was however still well liked and respected and was often associated to Auston and scene in a more favorable light. He was second to Auston in the « it » boy factor. If this NHL documentary was made 2-3 years ago, Mitch would have been considered.

If you would have told that the Toronto fans and media would be all over William two seasons ago, I would have laughed. Like never would I have thought that I would see the day where people would actually give him credit and actually respect him and see the great things he adds. I love seeing that , but at what cost? For Mitch to become the punching bag of the team?

Fans are now saying how amazing Willy is and now figuring out that he is a good player and cool. But those same fans, a couple years ago were dragging him through the mud saying how useless he was and how he needed to get traded. And they liked Mitch. And they respected him. But now, you’ve « always hated Mitch Marner », « He should be traded ».

And I fear that it will always be this: once Mitch will be in the public’s good graces, something with William will happen and back to Mitch. It’s always been like this and will always stay this way. I don’t know why, I guess that’s the dynamic the city chose.

Even when it came to the core’s contracts: Willy and Mitchy always get this EXTRA je ne sais quoi. Like this extra negative energy and they can never satisfy anyone. They are greedy weaklings or whatever.

Also, I was thinking about Auston captaincy and it reminded me about how he was heavily considered in 2019 but the whole allegations and the story about him harassing this woman when he was drunk ruined that chance. And, people did criticize him and he got scrutinized. But, it kind of, I think, it fizzled away pretty quickly within the Toronto scene considering how heavy that story was. It doesn’t haunt him.

Now, if it was Mitch or William, people would bring it up and it would tarnish them way more. They could not escape it.

Sorry for the long ass rant, it’s just so funny and frustrating: if one gains recognition, the other one has to go down.

gonna start out by saying i don't think mitch/auston/other ppl weren't asked about the doc. i think they're way more private esp in a time that was gearing up for the playoffs, lol. and i think anyone with a brain right now knows mitch is still the second best player on the leafs. everyone just gets high off point totals alone from the prior seasons.. like i seriously saw ppl claiming matthew tkachuk would be drafted higher than auston after the 22-23 season, lolll.

i agree there's a divide about them in the coverage and i have a lot of thoughts of my own about this too. i'm not a longterm leafs fan beyond the past couple of years so i can't speak to how willy or mitch were treated before 2022 beyond old headlines/stuff i've seen but not lived through, but i've definitely been here for the shift about mitch lately and well...

i think some of it is by virtue of them playing the same position. everyone 'has an issue' with the core 4 (ive never understood who the fuck the core 4 even refers to.. sometimes its about the forwards, sometimes its about the leadership group flkdjsklf... whatever fits the current narrative ig) being all forwards and taking up the cap bc that's not 'proven', but it's such a bullshit excuse. i think if you look at their contract situations of the past, willy did a lot of things mitch is getting shit for now, lol. he did hold out into the season for money while mitch gets lambasted for using that as a negotiation tactic (which again.. i wasnt around for those negotiations and i get it was ugly to ... leak or use public perception or whatever but) on those first contracts. willy's father was also involved in his holding out in the most recent negotiations but that's not smth i see thrown around at him despite every comment under every post about mitch including paul's name without him so much as uttering the word contract, lol. it's frustrating to me to see the double standards at this point. i understand longtime fans have lived through shit about willy, but i have a hard time imagining the vitriol levels of right now being topped. it's just every single day about every single thing compounded by the fact that leafs fans have even less hope than they used to bc of how many years in a row they've lost.

i admittedly don't love them equally at all, and if anything, the fanfare about willy the past year has made me like him less. it's not really his fault but i do think he's slightly overpaid now (and watching ppl now claim mitch has to take willys deal or less is hilarious) and overhyped for what he actually brings. his playoff stats are being overrated too. since it all comes at a cost to mitch in the media, it's been way worse to watch for me and unavoidable that i come away feeling negative about him, lol.

i'd be interested to see if the tides ever do turn back toward willy now that he's bulked up, grown facial hair, proven he can score with an up-to-this-point useless clutchness. i doubt they will, but i have a hard time envisioning what's gonna happen after mitch signs an extension and who will become the scapegoat w players locked up for more years. the constant hate has to get exhausting at some point, right? like jflkjdsklf... but not with leaf fans so who knows what will happen. i can't really say what would have happened if mitch or willy were ever involved in scandal like that, but i think if it happened right now, ppl would be ready to forgive willy for anything and sentence mitch to death over nothing so. some people were blaming him for his own carjacking when it happened like.. lol. i can't see into the future but all i know is i'm VERY fed up with the way coverage and reaction is right now. and i don't even think the media is an accurate depiction of how a lot of fans feel about any of it, but if it's hammered home enough... idk.

[quantomeno]

My ranking of the 'And that person is you!' scenes from Professor Layton

Ah, the iconic 'finger point' scene. They are Layton's trademark and it's so much fun when you know it's about to happen. You can feel the tension build.

But these moments are not all equal. Which scene will reign supreme?

Because these scenes involve big revelations and plot twists, this list will be rife with spoilers for both trilogies and the movie.

7. Azran Legacy

Firstly, the audience already knows who it is and no one else in the room could be it even if we didn't know. The other issue is that it's just got no build-up: Layton gives his spiel and then does the point. The room is cramped and there's not much drama or flair. By far the greatest problem though is that this felt like a side story. Bloom himself felt like wasted potential in some respects, but this whole mystery didn't seem all that important in the grand scheme of things. I honestly don't remember it that well and I am pretty sure he only stole a few artefacts that weren't plot relevant. It feels like they just wanted a pointing scene and this was the only logical place to put it.

6. Lost Future/Unwound Future

It is far too short, but the reveal has much more heft than Azran Legacy's. It is somewhat obvious that it's Future Luke once you realise what's happening, because only Don Paulo could be the other option, but the Clive revelation is still a massive twist. I give this scene bonus points because I like Clive's reaction to the accusation too.

5. Eternal Diva

I like this one, but it also feels a bit tacked on. The 'who has the key?' thing feels like it doesn't need deduction because they could just check everyone's pockets (and she's literally just holding it), but what saves it is that it ties into the bigger mystery and the revelation of Janice/Melina's identity. It feels impactful by the end, even if the initial tension feels overblown.

4. Miracle Mask

This one feels a fraction lacking in drama, but it makes up for it with its position/significance in the story. The wind blowing at the pivotal moment adds some nice flair. I would say it's also quite a shocking twist. It is what I would consider the baseline 'finger point' scene because it contains all the key features that make a good one, but I just don't think it has the same sensation of suspense that it needs to rank higher. Its execution is not as great as some.

3. Curious Village

This one lacks the trademark phrase, and it is also obvious who's the 'criminal element', but it makes up for it with the atmosphere of the room: it gives a classic murder mystery vibe, where all the key players have been gathered to learn the truth. It is scenes like this that makes me wish CV was a more traditional murder mystery because it has all the hallmarks of it. I am tempted to put this one below MM, but I feel this one is a touch more elegant and I value that.

2. Spectre's Call/Last Specter

This is one of the few times the game manages to surprise you with the revelation and has actively worked to make it seem like it was someone else. The foreshadowing of Doland, out of focus, standing behind Clarke, and Luke staring at his father, fully believing his own dad has been terrorising the town... and then how the camera pans from Clarke to Doland. It is a cleverly laid out scene and it has a great feeling of drama.

Pandora's Box/Diabolical Box

I could watch this scene on repeat forever. It is gorgeous. It also gives classic murder mystery vibes which I love. The suave coolness of Layton stirring his tea and calmly telling Chelmey he's go thee wrong man: perfect. Everyone's shocked reactions are fun and add to the tension. The pause after Layton's reasoning, and the shots of those involved leaves us with a delectable moment of suspense. Every shot is framed perfectly. And the revelation: it is not really surprising given we see Flora get kidnapped and she just made the comment that gave Layton the proof he needed, but it is still such an outrageous idea that Flora killed Dr Schrader and stole the box. The shots of everyone during the aforementioned pause at least try to create the illusion that it could be someone else. It also resolves one of the earliest mysteries of the game. The cherry on the cake is Luke's reaction (I love him so much). It is moments like this that make me want to put PB as my favourite game, but alas... I love LF too much.

[prettycottonmouthlamia]

It's kind of wild that FF7 Remake's Honeybee Inn gets this reputation as like a truly progressive piece of media, unique in the landscape of video games when its just. A flamboyant gay rhythm game. I get it, that's great, but it's missing the context of what that scene ended up replacing that bothers me a lot.

In all but stated terms, the Honeybee Inn in the OG FF7 is a brothel. It's a place where sex is sold. Arguments on whether it was overall handled tastefully or not aside, the fact it was presented is really fascinating. It is, at minimum, a very frank depiction of sex work. To a certain extent, it makes the resulting scenes with Don Corneo more narratively consistent as well. It's not really out of the question that Wall Market is the way it is, why it has a brothel very openly, when you consider how Don Corneo is.

In Remake, it's basically a nightclub with fancy outfits. It loses, frankly, a lot of its bite. The change in tone with the Honeybee Inn isn't followed up with a change in tone regarding Don Corneo, which is really fascinating, because that actually gets expanded upon. The owner of the Honeybee Inn is involved in what is essentially human trafficking to a legitimately awful man, and...that's fine. But having a brothel would cause "physical unease" to players? Really?

Ultimately, one of these is an important plot beat and the impetus for the Cloud crossdressing bit, so we have to keep it in. Honeybee Inn is non-essential. I get that. But I don't think the replacement we get is actually good, especially since because of Ms. Folia, it is clear to me on some level Remake wants to have its cake and eat it too. It still wants the Honeybee Inn to be scandalous, but it doesn't really want to commit.

This is made really all the more funny by Yakuza: Like a Dragon. When one major franchise was turning away, another one was stepping right into it. The main protagonist, Kasuga, was literally left in a brothel as a baby and raised by the sex workers there and by its proprietor. There's an entire scene where Kasuga confronts protestors, of honestly the well done group name of "Bleach Japan", and its really interesting how ultimately the game takes the side of a positive view on sex work. It's not pretty but sex workers are still people, they don't produce broken kids, and that they're often the target of gross, conservative organizations.

I was so legitimately surprised to see this in a video game. I had never seen ANYONE talk about these scenes, and I know several people who played Like a Dragon. It's really odd to me that this went untalked about. So you have one popular series who really began to turn its corner around this time embracing the dirty and the complicated and the uncomfortable, and the other...honestly making a token effort to avoid it. It's avoiding making a statement.

It's taken me a while to actually sit down and like, settle my thoughts enough to get to this point so I'm curious what other people think.

[littlepadika]

Joel is a Dom but he provides the best aftercare and is super into cuddling 💖💖

ahhh yesss he'd def be a cling-on after playtime hehe

Warnings: DDLG, piv mention

Joel doesn't pull out for a good minute after he finishes. He's kissing you softly all over your face, telling you what a good job you did. He's still catching his breath and his voice is quiet and raspy.

"feels good, daddy."

"yeah?" He smiles softly, feeling proud of himself. This wasn't a rough session, but he still felt the pleasure tingling in his toes. He loves it. "Hey... stay awake petal we have to get ready for bed." He kisses you again when your eyes flutter shut.

"No daddy stay like this." You wrap your legs around him which makes your princess parts hug him tightly.

"P-petal." He huffs, his hips flinching. As much as he wanted to stay in your warmth he knew it was important to clean up and go to the bathroom after sex. "We can cuddle as soon as you're in your jammies."

You consider this, blinking up at his kind eyes. You were even fuzzier around the edges because of the milkies. It was overwhelming yet the most peaceful feeling- all the love for him flowing through you. You nod and let him guide you to the bathroom.

You pee and Joel wipes up any mess between your legs. You notice that he does the same to himself. You made a mental note next time that you'd do clean up for daddy. He disappears for a moment to start the record player in the bedroom. Both of your favorite song...

this little light of mine. I'm gonna let it shine.

"You want bath or shower, petal?" He asks.

"Shower with you please." You smile.

It's a bit of a tight fit in the stall but you have no intention of letting go of him even when he's lathering soap down your back.

"I do you, daddy?" You peer up at him in the warm water.

"Sure, petal." He hands you the loofa and you rub the soap everywhere you can reach. Only missing his neck because of how tall he is.

"let it shine, let it shine, let it shine." He hums in contentment.

Once you are both clean and in sleep clothes he pulls you close to him again, cradling you against his chest.

"I have you petal." He whispers into your hair.

"Mmm don' let go daddy." You yawn.

"Never." He promises. He knows he should check the perimeter but for now he just enjoys holding you. Letting this comfort seep into his bones.

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

Daddies masterlist

[defaulttwig]

Donatello’s Monster

(rottmnt) Donatello x gn!reader

Summary: In true hubris comes Frankendonnie, meant to think and act like its creator. Donnie’s latest creation, in its short lifespan, fell for you. And so, the maker must destroy it before it destroys him.

Word Count: 1k

A/N: This is what happens when you write at the top of your head understanding little characterization of a character. Had rottmnt in mind but could probably be any Don. 

“Don, we’re going to be late to the party.”

You followed the eager turtle to his lab. The pom poms you held shimmied with every swing of your arms. Donnie claimed he had some last second touch-ups he wanted to do. Which then turned to him wanting to show you his work. Considering the time to the party was soon, you went ahead and texted April the two of you would be late. The others already left a long time ago. She returned your message with a winky face.

“Not by long.” He waved his hand dismissively.

The two of you entered his lab where you noticed a white sheet hung over something as tall as you two. It captured your attention for good reason. Donnie looked over his shoulder, smiling proudly at your curiosity. He stopped next to the object as you stood a few feet away.

He began to cackle, hunching slightly. “Are you ready?”

Well, now you are afraid. 

“Behold, science-ah!” He hissed dramatically while pulling away the sheet.

You guffawed at the likeness of Donnie in metal form. It looked just like him. Green with similar painted purple spots. It even donned a purple mask and battle shell. Glancing from it to Donnie, you could not see a difference. You waved your pom poms.

“Whoa, Donnie, you made a statue?” 

“No, no. Even better.” He cleared his throat and clapped his hands twice. “I present to you, Frankendonnie.”

The statue came to life and turned its head between the two of you. So, a robot. Even better. You clapped your hands in awe, smacking the pom poms together as you did. At your praise, Donnie dramatically bowed.

“What does it do?” You asked.

“Everything I do.” He patted the arm of robot Donnie. “I programmed him to think just like me. He’s my backup, my secret weapon, should my brothers and I end up outmatched.”

“I love it.” You smiled as Donnie slinked away from it. “Now, come on, we’re going to miss the party and you’re not in costume.”

“I will be gone for only a moment. Wait here with my greatest creation.” He walked off to his room and you turned around.

The robot was still on. 

You walked over to it, tapping a pom pom against your chin. You walked around it, looking at all the details. Donnie really put in the work to make it an exact copy of him. You wondered how far he went to make it work.

Standing in front of it, you gestured to your costume. “How do I look?”

The robot’s eyes took in your form. “You look amazing as usual.”

You snickered, a bit bashful at the compliment. “Thank you.” 

As a true test of Donnie’s genius, you stepped into the robot’s space. The robot backed away, rubbing the back of its neck. You laughed and backed away. Wondering how it would handle affection like real Donnie, you formed a heart with your hands. The robot stiffened.

“Wha-”

“I’m here!” Donnie strode into the room, donning his costume. 

Compared to the effort his brothers put in, his costume was more plain. An orange shirt and a green hat, supposedly a pumpkin. You crossed your arms, wondering if you should have stuck him in a football player’s uniform to match your cheerleader outfit. Ah well, he still looked cute. You said as much.

“I know,” Donnie said with ease. “Shall we head out?”

“Yeah.” You pointed over your shoulder. “But what about-”

Donnie’s eyes widened. A breeze shot past you and cast a shadow on the ground. Donnie ducked out of the way just as the robot’s bo staff slammed into the floor, cracking it. Your jaw fell, confused at the sudden rebellious nature. Donnie, too, was confused, whipping out his own techno bo and getting into a fighting stance.

“Frankendonnie,” his voice wavered a tinge of above impassiveness at the betrayal. “What-”

The robot raised its staff and swung at him. “There can only be one!”

You had an inkling that this was somehow your fault, having been alone with it for a minute and all. So, you felt the need to apologize mid-battle. “I’m sorry for breaking your robot.” Donie glanced from you to the bot. “Scoff, I should have known.” They clashed again before Donnie broke off, landing next to you. He pointed at the robot from the side. “You are TOO much like me.”

So, you weren’t to blame? Completely?

The two fought a few minutes longer. Where Donnie tried to minimize damage, the robot crashed his work table, slammed a ceiling light, and did everything in its power to destroy Donnie. The turtle finally had enough of it, coming to a stop several feet away.

“That is it! Frankendonnie, execute plan Z!”

The robot, in mid-air, stopped its lunge at Donnie. It slammed to the ground lifelessly. Donnie gave it a quisitive look before straightening from his fighting stance. He draped his staff across his shoulders, lazily wrapping his arms over it.

“And that is why I am the better one. I have fail-safes, even for my copy.” He sighed. “Sad. You were the most handsome thing I built.”

You snuck around the destruction to stand beside him. “Nothing compares to the original though.”

He rolled his head in your direction with a smirk and a shrug. “True. I am handsome.”

You jumped as the robot caught on fire. Before you could panic, Donnie called Shelldon in to extinguish the fire. The turtle drone produced a hose from its shell, spraying an extinguishing foam onto the robot. While the drone did that, Donnie took in the state of his lab with a frown.

You blinked, remembering the pom poms in your hand. “Uh, should we head to the party?”

He said nothing for a moment before shrugging, putting away the bo staff. “Yeah.”

This whole mess could be taken care of after.

[a-salmon-good-time]

not salmon run related but, how do you feel about all dogs go to heaven? i used to adore those movies and still do

(this is a pretty wordy response, so I'm throwin' in some GIFs to add some visuals haha!!)

RAAAAH I was OBSSEEEEESSSED with All Dogs Go to Heaven as a kid (and even now I still love the movies, I need to rewatch them) and were some of the first Don Bluth films I've seen before finding out about the other films !!!! A lot of A Salmon Good Time's inspiration comes from All Dogs Go to Heaven.

Obsessed isn't even an exaggeration— I'd watch All Dogs Go to Heaven 1 and 2 on my mini DVD player almost everyday like it was routine, I'd sing along with the musical bits (the happier ones ofc), draw fanart in my sketchbook... and then one night we had the TV on and I just so happened to walk in and see that they had a Christmas Carol movie too??? I was in pure bliss I got to consume more ADGTH content!

ADGTH really made childhood me believe that dogs could talk and do human things in private (I also had a dog obsession as a kid too— does this movie/show have a talking dog? Yahoo, it's a dog plushie! I made nothing but dog OCs lol).

The ADGTH movies really really really really stuck with me (even now) and I'd even go as to say that my life and creative journey would be very different without 'em ;v;

In 2007, I even made my own OCs based on those movies- one was Bluesy and the other Chris, and I'm thinking about bringing 'em back!! Though around 2022 or so, after hearing about the show Bluey not to long ago, I was considering changing Bluesy's name since the name's are a one-lettwe difference and Bluesy too is a blue dog haha

TL;DR - I'm obsessed with the All Dogs Go to Heaven movies!!! They will always hold a special place in my soul. 🥹💕

[noelclover]

Off the Cuff 25/04/2024

Had a lot of things I wanted to talk about but I figured I'd talk about games and tier lists instead, because I realized, while talking to some people, that a lot of people don't understand tier lists.

"tires don exits"

Is a load of crock. Tiers do exist and they are there to show players where things stand relative to each other, how well they're expected to do against each other with their kits, and most importantly if you're getting into a new hobby and you like everything just enough that you can't decide, to help you save money.

This does not mean that tiers are absolute and should be taken as scripture.

Tiers are ultimately guidelines and should only be treated as such. A deeper analysis is generally needed if you're interested in actually making your money's worth/ knowing what you're doing.

Take for example, Honkai Star Rail. For this example, I'll be using Fire TB, Gepard and then add in Aventurine.

Fire TB -> gets shields with every action, shields are very small Gepard -> biggest shields but only when he ults, has higher aggro Aventurine -> weaker shields than Gepard, but uses skill points instead of ult. Also grants Eff Res 50% and allows Aventurine to block CC. Stacks. Also builds up to a follow up attack that does some damage.

If we were to look at things like this, Aventurine becomes the top tier pick, with Gepard coming in second and Fire TB suffering the fate of every f2p gacha protagonist.

However, FireTB has one thing neither of the others have, which is a Taunt. Which in turn guarantees that single target attacks and blast attacks target her, thus saving 2-3 team members from damage.

Additionally, both FireTB and Gepard can gain their shields outside of their turn, so they both have an emergency button built into their kit that Aventurine doesn't.

The question then becomes... how do you even weight this against each other? One could argue that FireTB is still the weakest due to her shields being very small, but they're sufficient in blocking most of the small hits that'll hit your party, even in MoC12, assuming she's actually built and RNG didn't just give you a ton of HP on your gear instead of DEF.

((Key words: small hits. The gorilla slam is not a small hit.))

And more importantly, she has a Taunt. A skill that tells you in advance where the damage is going to be distributed, which, I'm sure for those who've played HSR and other games like it would know, is invaluable. She can also generate a lot of skill points, as even her attacks give shields.

On the flip side, Gepard can freeze your targets whenever you've got skill points to spare, thus allowing you to delay incoming damage by just a bit and maybe give another team mate a turn. A lot of the time that's enough to get in another DoT, a Break, or maybe even a Luocha heal charge.

Yet despite all that, Aventurine guarantees that you've got shields every turn as long as you can spare the skill points, and his shields are more effective than TB's, and Eff Res., despite ((likely)) being multiplicative, is still better than having nothing but base Eff. Res in a game that's going to have more status effects. But running him may limit the amount of skill points available at any given time, and anyone who's played games like HSR will tell you that resource starvation is one of the worst things that could happen to you.

A look at any tier list would tell you what's strongest, but when laid out it becomes terribly difficult to truly judge.

It becomes extra difficult, but most importantly interesting, when you realize what it is you're weighing. But equally as important is looking at things in the macro as well as the micro. Perhaps you've already got very good sustains. Then why consider Aventurine? You don't need another sustain. You could be lacking in carries, buffers or debuffers who could all be ranked lower on the tier lists, yet would significantly better your account position to clear hard content.

Note, it is important to always zoom in and out in all topics, especially those pertaining to real life, I'm just pointing out that you really need to do this if you want to know what you're doing.

I wanted to talk about some light cones as an example, but as this is long enough, I'll end it here.

[everdenss]

The lively tapestry of Alderheart's marketplace weaves through the exposed roots of the Great Tree with ease, the rich and colorful awnings of storefronts blending in naturally. Here, the Humblefolk appear to be doing business as usual. Among the gaggle of anthropomorphic animals: a gecko dons their spectacles and bends low to consider the price tag of a turquoise suit on display, a fox in a flower patterned dress attempts to haggle a pigeon shopkeep (and from the wrinkle of her snout, it doesn't appear to be going well), a cat on all fours leisurely stalks the street searching for the source of the smell of baked goods wafting through the air, and a frog and hedgehog child are racing each other to their favorite toyshop. One figure, however, seems to be far away from the boisterous and spice-fragranced streets. They stand with their eyes towards the sky, considering the light filtering through the leaves of the Great Tree. Somewhere in the upper boughs, King Cyrus and the Council are meeting, perhaps debriefing about the escalation of The Bandit Coalition. The figure's eyes snap towards some swift movement - the children racing each other, weaving in and out of the crowd with glee, laughter dancing on the wind. A paw drifts up towards the strap holding the cylindrical container on their back, and they detachedly wonder what it would sound like to see the streets of Alderheart ablaze. They shake themselves awake, and proceed down the street. Not yet, but soon.

Hi there! I'm Alice (she/they; 25), and I'm going to be running a new campaign spanning level 1-20 soon - a modified Humblewood inspired by Guardians of Ga'hoole, Redwall, Warriorcats, Watership Down, D20's Burrow's End, and Animorphs (kind of)! I have a handful of friends lined up as players, but I'm looking for 1-2 more to add in before we start.

🌳 Setting:

Everden isn't like your typical fantasy world; devoid of the presence of humans, elves, dwarves, or other typical fantasy races, Everden is entirely populated with anthropomorphic animal people called Humblefolk. Cats, bats, rabbits, birds, hedgehogs, frogs, foxes, coyotes, owls, snakes, eagles, ravens, otters, you name it! These creatures can speak, walk upright, wear clothes, use magic, and utilize medieval technology.

They also retain some of their animalistic charm and abilities. Birdfolk can fly, and therefore rely on their nimble feet in lieu of hands. Nonflying birdfolk, such as chickens, have evolved to have hands at the end of their wings. Additionally, being 3 feet tall in Everden is roughly the equivalent of 5 feet tall here - meaning there is a slightly realistic approach to animal sizes relative to each other. There are some exceptions, for the purpose of D&D rules and proportions; the mice in Everden might be particularly tall, and the herons might be particularly short, for instance. However, due to this, animals that are taller than a fox are not playable (i.e. no deer, wolves, goats, tigers, lions, etc.).

🌟 Campaign Premise:

It's been 20 years since the end of The War of Iron and Claw threatened to cause another Great Calamity; since then, Everden has returned to normalcy. However, as Humblefolk prepare to celebrate the anniversary of this peace, something restless stirs in the shadows. An evil power is soon to emerge, threatening the fate of Everden itself.

This game is a modified version of Humblewood from Hit Point Press - homebrewed and modified to fit a larger scale and campaign.

Ideally this will have the vibe of a YA novel that's surprisingly deeper than what you were anticipating. You know those books from elementary or middle school that you picked up because there was a cool animal on the cover and so you read it, only to find out it was about the horrors of war? That's what I'm trying to go for!

While we'll have moments of lighthearted fun, I'm hoping for an overall serious tone and good story to be told in this campaign.

⚔️ The Game:

I'm intending for a level 1 - 20 adventure lasting at least several years.

5e D&D, with homebrew races (based on animals); no druids (since I think wildshape will take away from the fun of being critters already), but will have alternative homebrewed subclasses.

We use Roll20 as the VTT and Discord for voice chat.

Time negotiable currently, but most of us live in PST.

Ideally, this game is a weekly commitment, with us picking a day and time to meet and playing then once a week. While we get things happen, if you are unable to reliably meet once a week this might not be the game for you.

The game is anticipated to start sometime late March or April.

🍃 About Your Tale-Weaver and Their Table:

Hiya! I've been playing D&D for 10 years now, and DMing for 8 of those. This campaign has been a bit of a pet project for me in the past few years, and as my current campaign wraps up, we're looking to move forward with this one (which I'm very excited about :3).

I'm pretty dedicated to the campaigns I'm in - making playlists, Pinterest boards, things like that. I'll read poetry and be like "that reminds me of one of my PCs" like that's a normal thing to do. My players and I also like to goof around about the campaign by sending and making memes and stuff outside of session.

I plan (a lot), but improv is the name of the game. I love working with players to incorporate things from their backstory / the story they want to tell through their character into the world I have already. I also love the party leaving their mark on the world. The setting is dynamic, and your actions as the players will have consequences - for better or for worse.

I'm a firm believer that the players are the main characters of the campaign - and that means all members of the party! While I have no qualms with (and love!) making character arcs or character-specific quests or story moments, I try to do so with everyone.

The table is also beginner friendly.

🐾 The Ideal Adventurer:

18+. We are all adults (specifically 21+), and would like to play with our age range!

Respectful & Kind. All of my players and I are some manner of LGBT, and any kind of bigotry or hated will not be tolerated at this table. Additionally, we'd ideally find someone chill to hang with even outside of sessions from time to time. We also are friendly to BIPOC, people with disabilities, and women. Yeehaw!

Lovers of Roleplay and Story. We're here to forge a great tale first and foremost (well, and have fun - but that's interchangeable for us!). We're looking for players who try to get in their character's mindset, love character development, and are also able to differentiate between in-character thoughts and feelings from out-of-character ones!

Active & Curious Explorers. We want people who get involved! Chase down plot threads! Be determined to solve that puzzle! Make those conspiracy theories! Take those detailed notes! Ask questions of the NPCs! So on and so forth.

Collaborative Team Players. You are not the only main character here - involve everyone else as well! Be mindful of the spotlight. Sometimes your PC will be the focus, sometimes they'll be supporting cast members as another PC gets time in the limelight.

Dedicated. We are looking to play this game once a week for at least the next few years. This campaign is intended to be a level 1 to 20 adventure, so that will take a while to tell! We want people who think this premise is cool, who are excited about playing this campaign, who want to have fun playing D&D with us, and are interested in their character and others'.

Know that D&D is a Dice Game. You roll dice in D&D. Sometimes your character will fail, as is the nature of probability. That's okay! If you're not a huge fan of the possibility that rolls will not always be in your favor, this is not the game for you.

🌱 Application:

Here is the link to apply!

My players and I will read over applications slowly over the course of the next few weeks. Then, if we decide to move forward with your application, I'll be contacting you on Discord to set up an interview. Please make sure you are accepting friend requests and that your Discord username is accurate! Additionally, if you'd like to apply as partners, apply separately please!

Thank you for reading! Have a great day! :>

[shriekinghavoc]

WAIT okay i am actually so invested in the god tier concepts. pls. pls explain (if you want, i mean. i am genuinely -eyes emoji-)

OH MY GOD THANK YOU

This also counts as a character analysis so if anyone wants to read that.... I guess this is also a Hank, Don, Dawn, and Holly character analysis!

For those of you who don't read Homestuck but are interested, here's a quick explanation on what God Tiers are. For those of you who have read Homestuck and are wondering what qualities I consider to be "behind" ones God Tier being what it is, let this serve as an answer.

Homestuck is basically like Sword Art Online in that it's about kids stuck in a video game. The difference is the video game manipulates the players' reality instead of being a virtual reality. God Tiers are the "final form" a player can achieve in that video game and grants them abilities they'll naturally unlock both before and after they achieve God Tier.

These abilities are determined by a class (ex: page, bard, rogue) and an aspect (ex: life, hope, blood.)

Aspects are vague categories of concepts and things. For instance: Light means both actual literal light as well as information, money, and resources. Breath can mean the literal wind and it can mean freedom. Even hobbies can be related to one's aspect: (space is about creation so hobbies such as gardening, sewing, painting, and writing are all known hobbies for space players)

Classes are how someone relates to their aspect and would use it to fight. This can change the whole meaning of the aspect, which I will explain for each Hawk and Dove. These relations determine/are determined by the character arc each character goes through in Homestuck.

Holly Granger

Class: Rogue of Time

For Holly's temper and offensive nature, I still chose the passive Rogue class. The Rogues are those that steal their aspect from others for the good of their allies. For a Rogue of Time, this means Holly is steals time from others for the greater good. For as little as we saw of her in canon, she mostly treats herself like a tank in fights, putting herself at the fore front of things while others worked on a solution. She literally buys time.

Holly also has some of the fastest speeds we've seen from any Hawk or Dove (not including Justice League Unlimited) out running Dawn on two occasions out of her few appearances (and Dawn was always faster than Hank, and Don wasn't much faster than him.) She also has a known interest in music (tempo and rhythm themed.)

Lastly time players tend to have strained relationships with others and tend to distance themselves in some way, putting up acts to drive others away, genuinely not caring what people think, or just generally being vocal about how they're fine are all canon traits.

Dawn Granger

Class: Mage of Breath

This may surprise some to hear, but Dawn is very much a lonely character.

Yes, she knows Ren and Donna before Hank meets them but she is barely seen hanging out with them on her own after. Hank, however, is always hanging out with them (as we'll get into later.) As Dawn, she sits squished against the diner wall so the "couples" can talk and tries to boost her own confidence by dating a guy as herself. For fucks sake- she dated Boston Brand. Even before she became the kind of girl who can't hold her beer, she and Holly were talking about bars not being her thing. She was the kind of person who upon finding out she wasn't the only Dove went an ocean over to find Hawk.

In the 80s, at the least, part of her arc was very obviously that she felt more confident as Dove. I'd like to think it's because, as Dove, she was still isolated and unwilling to let other heroes know their secret, but she was more open and freed by her solitude. She maintained her friendship with Hank, but she's also more confident because she has freed herself from their expectations.

So long as she's behind a mask, that is.

Onto powers: Flight is really Dawn's shtick and main, memorable trait. Since Don never got the chance, she's the only canon flier on their team. All god tiers can fly, but breath has domain over the wind. I made her a Mage because Mages gather knowledge about their aspect- which is what Dawn wanted to do with her Dove powers. She wanted to become a master of manipulating it.

Her seeking out new languages to learn, offensive but calculated for minimum damage approach to enemies, and her attitude towards bonds made this one pretty easy.

Don Hall

Class: Seer of Space

Space players get the most important job in every game in Homestuck: Getting the "Win" condition. This is done by breeding frogs. The person who has this job has to be incredibly kind, devoted, and judgemental and controlling and-

I love Don, but if he was not a space player, he would not be having a good time and neither would the space player. More than that, this is the most removed and creative task complete with a final boss that you actually need to speak to and talk to instead of attacking like some others.

Space, being a creative aspect, is great for a character that loves art so much he teaches it in one universe as an adult and knew more than one local artist as a kid.

A seer can see or divine through their aspect, which I think is perfect for Don's "Danger Sense" power. All Hawks and Doves are said by "word of god" to have this (in-comic bios, dc databases, most third party websites-) but Don uses it the most frequently in his time, Dawn uses it sparingly, and it's even suggested a few times the Hawks don't have it at all. Terataya (by name and context of their realm) is heavily implied to be a creation deity, their powers linked to that of pure life energy through the White Lantern rings. I did consider life for this reason, but ultimately Don was never a healer, he was a creator with a plan for the future of the world.

Hank Hall

Class: Prince of Blood

This may surprise some to hear, but Hank is very much a lonely character.

His entire character relates to his experiences with others and their impact on him. For as bold and loud as he is, he really does care about the other people in his life. He's always reaching out for people- grabbing Don to pull him over a fire escape, pulling Dawn away from Sal, hugging Ren over the shoulders and kissing her when she was scared, hugging his mom before breakfast- and when he loses those people- he's driven out of his mind wanting them back.

He did some really messed up stuff in canon when Don died, and I know it was retconned and I hate the plot point myself, but they sure did choose to have him turn into Monarch by loosing Dawn.

Hank would kill for everyone he loves, and he loves a lot of people very quickly and makes non-superhero friends very easily. Depending on the writer, he might still make superhero friends fast (Bette, Beast Boy, Barbara- love the Bs) and those relationships last a long time.

A prince destroys with their aspect, and Hank is definitely fueled as a protector (... even if he's usually the one getting protected in the end.)

Being a destroyer class also falls very in line with him being a Hawk, usually creating space for his Dove rather than just buying time (Though he did do that as well at one point- He's often seen making advances and driving foes back away from Dove and civilians, trying to control the fight or disorient.)

Other Notes Homestuck Fans Will Enjoy:

-Time and Space as well as Blood and Breath are opposites of each other and are actually a perfect cross on the aspect wheel, each of them being extremes of "concept" and "connection."

-Being a time and space player respectively actually works great for Don's "sky's the limit" and "it's worth a try" approach to enemies compared to Holly's more practical "let's get it over with" approach.

-I did customize the outfits (most notably Hank's and least notably Dawn's) this is because I think the God Tier outfits as-is look ridiculous on adults most of the time and especially adults without the Homestuck Body Type.

-It was an accident that the Hawks turned out red and the Doves both got knowledge gathering classes. I actually went through the whole aspect wheel deciding who would be what very carefully before I picked these four.

-It was NOT an accident that both Holly and Don are passive and Hank and Dawn are active classes.