#like the way he looks at her is just so full of adoration

[love-is-a-pearl]

Final Alola post! Starting with EP125 and controling myself to not go on a tangent over how much I ADORE ASH WITH YOUNGER KIDS AND HOW CUTE HE IS WHEN HE TRIES ACTING ALL MATURE 😭😭😭 to focus on his talk about pokemon gyms and leagues!

SMOOTH sdoiahsidosao

No seriously the way he changes subject here always gets me. Despite everything, talking about that stuff is still hurtful and something he rather avoid.

Now, onto the league.

I know everybody hates Ash vs Hau, but man, that battle has some really good moments. Like the face he makes when he thought he had lost at the best 8. AGAIN!

look, that battle is far from the best, but what it shows us about Ash?? PERFECTION!

How he apologizes to Hau afterwards when the battle continues. How he knows the feel of having the win taken on the last second.

And Hau's reaction after it's all said and done and how he breaks down after Hala compliments him anyway.

How despite Ash doing this for SO LONG no one really told him that. And how that's what hurts the most. When you keep going and going and going but is hard to see the progress. How sometimes you just want someone to aknowledge your hard work.

And those feelings are paralleled in plenty of the battles in this league!

How Mallow vs Lana was all about Mallow doing her best till the very end despite being robbed losing to Lana and how a loss does hurt! Despite it being fun and with a close friend and doing your all, it still hurts. Gladion vs Lillie and Kiawe vs Sophocles too having the same vibes. Even Jessie and James battle fits the theme, with Jessie expecting a win and losing when James battled with full connection with his pokemon.

And then we have Guzma. Oh Guzma

Guzma who tried again and again, all to fail in the end. Just like Ash.

Guzma who thought he was unbeatable until it came crashing down on him. Guzma who lost hope and hid his fears behind a strong façade. Like Ash did in Kalos.

Guzma who took too long to learn to have fun and lost because of that. While Ash got the chance to re-learn that in Alola.

Their parallels... It means everything to me. To use Guzma to tell the story Ash has been living for 20 years and have the catharsis for both be Ash's win in Alola. I love it. I really do.

and we end all with this. His disbelief after beating Gladion will always be my favorite moment of the Alola league.

people love to bitch on BW, but gosh, does it set up Ash's need to get strong in Kalos (to a fault) nicely. Like, there's plenty of moments we can see that the Cameron loss did affect him.

Is interesting how you can even see the essence of "Kalos Ash" in those key moments.

I really wish people tried to understand what BW symbolizes for Ash's growth cause man, I really enjoy the arc he goes throught post DP

[natalievoncatte]

“She’s dying.”

Cait looked up from the spread of paperwork on her desk -no one told her that seizing sold command of the city as a military dictator would involve so much paperwork- and found Loris standing in her doorway.

“I was under the impression that you’d handed in your badge and left the force.”

“She’s dying.”

Cait said nothing, scratching at one of the papers with a pen, signing off on something that most certainly did not require her attention.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

She looked away, but still he dared throw a broad shadow across the room, across her.

“Yes, you do.”

Cait let out a low, rasping sigh, a deep gurgle of frustration in the back of her throat. Her fingers dug into her desk and she itched to hold a gunstock in her hands. She was tired of these problems, she was tired of challenges she couldn’t just shoot, like Ambessa ramping up the pressure to lead a full-strength incursion into the Undercity to clear the Lanes. Rooting out the chem barons hadn’t been ending, it turned out, as they were almost a stabilizing influence and… and she had seen artwork of Jinx, the people of the Lanes seeing her as some kind of folk hero.

“She disobeyed my orders and abandoned our mission. Because of her, Jinx escaped. Trusting her was a mistake.”

“Not how she told it.”

Exasperated, Cait spun, ready to order him to leave lest he end up in Stillwater himself, but then she froze. Is that how she handled her problems now, by locking then up in dungeons without a trial?

How had it come to this? She finally had the authority she craved in her hands and yet it seemed every move she made worsened the very problems she’d dedicated her life to solving. She had almost died to show the city what the Enforcers could be, had pleaded with the Council to show the Undercity grace, to recognize what their people and their government had done to their neighbors… and now she was the Council, and how would she now receive those same pleas she’d once made?

Loris regards her coolly. The big man held his cards close to the vest, didn’t show emotion, but during their strike raids he’d taken on a protective role over all of them, the oldest member of the team. She wouldn’t go so far as to say he was a mentor, or even a friend, he was her subordinate, but she did respect him.

“She’s been making her way fighting in the pits. She fights all day and drinks all night, barely eats, barely sleeps. By the time I left I don’t think she’d eaten I three days and she lost two straight bouts to jobbers. It’ll kill her soon enough, the bottle or an opponent with something to prove or just some random thug with a knife. Is that what you want?”

Cait kept her face schooled, her posture prim. How dare he speak to her so frankly?

The trembling in her legs, she couldn’t fight, nor the impulse to worry her lip with her teeth. She suddenly felt five years old again, confessing some petty transgression to her mother. What would her mother think of what she’d done?

“What are you suggesting.”

“We bring her home. Go in, get her, get out through the vents. Quick and quiet, no uniforms. Just us.”

Cait hesitated. This could be a trap- some wannabe ruler of the Lanes might have put him up to this to lure her into the Undercity to be dealt with directly. No, she wasn’t that much of a fool.

Her jaw twisted. Good gods she’d have someone tasting her food next. What was she turning into?

“We need someone else to watch our backs. Maddie.”

Loris nodded. “Sooner we go, the better.”

“I’ll ready myself now.”

“You’ll need a disguise.”

“I have one.”

Cait hadn’t worn these clothes since the night she lay on her bed, sharing secrets with Vi, trading gentle touches. If she had to pinpoint a moment that she’d fallen in love with Violet it was the gentle way she took Cait’s hand and pressed it to her cheek, such adoration in her eyes.

What had she done?

The three of them stole into the Undercity the same way they had as a team- the ventilation shafts. Loris knew the way.

As they worked their way through the always and twisting warrens of Zaun, Cait could only think of the first time she’d come here- scared and trying to put on a brave face as she rushed after the brash, confident brick wall of a woman she’d followed here, desperately hoping that her sudden conviction that it was a terrible idea was wrong.

It actually turned out worse than a terrible idea. She’d almost been blown up, had been kidnapped, almost murdered by Silco’s men if not for Vi punching out an entire tower structure.

It had been the best idea she’d ever had.

“We’re here,” said Loris.

“It looks like they dump bodies here,” said Maddie, looking up at the tenement.

“Shut up,” Cait snapped, remembering something similar she’d said once, not knowing the reverent meaning the place held for Vi.

Loris looked up at one of the windows.

“We’d best hope she’s here. If she’s not we’re going to have trouble.”

“Lead the way.”

Cait kept her head down and her hood up -they’d all be killed if she were recognized- as the trio made their way up. Vi was living in a flop house. All around were Shimmer addicts. Cait felt her gut seize as she saw them trembling, pale and sweaty and rubbing at sores.

She had taken away the chemical that kept the worst of it at bay for them, but then what had she done? Just smashing the chem barons didn’t reverse the harm they’d caused. The addicted were still here.

When they reached Vi’s room, Loris knocked and the door swung open, unbarred.

At first, Cait thought this a mistake, or that Vi had moved on, but then she realized the broken form lying on the narrow, sweat-stained bed was Vi.

She’d lost weight, and was pale as a sheet except for the profusion of bruises and scrapes that covered her back and arms. There were bottles and broken glass strewn about everywhere and the wall mirror was shattered, as if from a punch.

Cait, forgetting herself, rushed to Vi’s side and knelt by the bed.

“Vi? Vi? Vi, wake up.”

Glassy eyed, Vi didn’t seem to see her.

Swallowing hard, Cait probed, quickly checking her over for injuries.

She had a broken rib at the very least. Fuck!

“Vi?”

“Cupcake?” Vi murmured. “Are you real?”

“Cupcake?” Maddie broke in. “Is she hungry?”

“Shut up,” Cait hissed. “We have to go, we’ve been here too long already.”

“Let’s get her to the vents and back topside,” said Loris.

“Help me carry her,” said Cait.

“I’ve got her,” the big man said.

Something in Cait crumbled when she saw how easily he lifted Vi from the bed. Cait pulled her hood low and they swaddled Vi in what they could find, scrambling to avoid notice. Cait’s heart pounded with every step and she was sure they’d be spotted and mobbed and Zaun would be parading the body of the Commander of Piltover around the streets by morning.

Somehow, they made it. As the approached the bridge crossing, Cait her the sounds of rifles racking and threw back her hood.

“Get out of my way,” she snarled.

Her Enforcers obliged.

“Where are we taking her?” said Loris.

“Home.”

As soon as she was able, she arranged for transport and Loris lowered Vi onto a stretcher. It might have been better to conduct her to a hospital, but Cait would have none of that.

She took Vi home, had her men lay Vi in her bed, then harshly ordered them out.

“Thank you,” she said to Loris and Maddie.

The former nodded curtly and left. Maddie lingered for a moment, her eyes searching the room before she slipped out as Cait asked her to find her father.

Tobias appeared. Maddie did not join him, for which she was grateful.

Cait said nothing and her father kept his own council just as readily. They hadn’t been speaking much, the heartfelt talks and reminisces drying up as Cait threw herself into her work. She could sense her father’s distaste but above all else, he was a doctor. Cait waited as he made his examination.

Finally he said, “her torso will need binding for the broken rib, and those cuts will be needing treatment. She’s been drinking.”

Cait nodded.

“The withdrawal will be terrible for her.”

Cait nodded vigorously, biting her lip as she looked down at Vi.

“I’ll see to bringing in some nurses to help me. Stay back, and let us work.”

Her father called upon his own staff from the hospital and soon Vi was surrounded.

With all her authority, Cait could do nothing but watch as Vi’s ribs were bandaged for support. She didn’t wake through any of it, even as her body jerked while her wounds were cleaned and Cait herself unwound her wraps.

Her father ran a line into Vi’s arm and hung a bottle of fluids.

“I’ve started her on normal saline and a nutritional supplement, antibiotics to be administered every twelve hours on the hour.”

“Thank you.”

“I did it for you.”

Cait was not prepared to be alone with Vi but it happened anyway. She sat by the bedside and watched Vi breathe, her chest rising and falling steadily. She would call names in her sleep: Mom. Vander. Powder.

Cait.

Cait. Cait. Cait.

Vi called her name like a prayer, voice that of a lonely searcher calling out in the dark.

“I’m here,” Cait whispered, “I’m here, Vi. Just open your eyes.”

Hours stretched into a day, two. Cait was slumped in her chair when it happened, using her cape as a blanket.

“Cait?”

Her voice sounded different, somehow more coherent. It took Cait a stunned moment to realize that Vi was looking at her.

“Where am I?”

“I brought you home.”

Vi grunted as she started to sit up. Cait jolted to her feet and pressed her back down, gently.

“You’ve a broken rib, and the withdrawal.”

Vi fell back into the pillows.

“You should have left me where you found me, Cupcake.”

“I never should have left you at all.”

[thetomorrowshow]

love is such a drag

Chapter one: Scar's first encounter with the angel (and Grian gets to eat ice cream)

welcome to my scariana griande drag college au. this will be quite the ride from start to finish.

~

Scar spots her from across the bar.

It would be hard not to notice her, honestly. Despite the dim, almost cloudy lighting of the room, she glows, as if a heavenly spotlight is set right on her to make it clear that she just descended from heaven.

Scar sneaks glances at her over the fun green umbrella in his drink. She's sitting by herself—an absolute crime, if you ask Scar—, swishing around the little black straw in her drink. Her dark blond hair falls in gorgeous ringlets down around her shoulders, outlining her face the way a pure golden frame would surround only the most beautiful of paintings.

Her nose is small, turned up just a little bit in a peak, the bridge delicate and sparkling with a small amount of angel dust that must be left over from the aforementioned descent. Her eyes are almost comically doe-like, large and accentuated with soft pink eye shadow and long eyelashes. Scar can't quite tell what color her eyes are from this distance (brown, maybe? Black?), but he knows that whatever color they are, they are absolutely perfect.

Her lips are pink to match her eye shadow, glittery, small and pursed, as if her drink isn't near good enough to pass those delicately soft lips.

Scar hasn't even met the woman, but he wants to kiss those lips. He wants some of that angel dust to find its way onto his own lips.

Her cheeks are rosy and full, and her round chin rests on her palm as she casts a bored look around the bar.

Scar downs the last bit of his drink for courage.

He sticks the umbrella in his shirt pocket for good luck.

Then he picks up his cane and saunters over, frantically sorting through every pick-up line in his repertoire—though none of them seem to match the beauty of God's creation before him.

She looks up at him as he approaches, peering at him from under those long lashes, and now he can tell—

Her eyes are grey, but not grey like clouds, or the sea, or the bartop that her arm rests on. Her eyes are grey like the comforter on his mom's bed, like the bricks around the fireplace back in his grandpa's old house, like the silver colored pencil he'd taken all his notes in for a semester to try and prove to Cub that it worked just as well as a normal pencil (it hadn't).

Her eyes are grey like the backdrop of Scar's dreams, the firmament that rests between consciousness and all else.

And then, of course, he's right there.

And she's waiting.

There isn't a single smooth pick-up line in his brain, which is offensive if Scar does say so himself, because he always has words. He could wax poetic about a frying pan for an hour just to annoy someone, but now that his skills are put to the test he can't hold on to his wits long enough to use them.

Goodness gracious, but she's beautiful.

She's wearing something pink and small, a cut-off that reveals a slender torso and adorable bellybutton, the sleeves long and flowy but off the shoulders. Her skirt is a lighter shade of pink, cutting off just above her knees, and it looks like just the kind of skirt that she could spin in and it would twirl along perfectly with her, the kind that sort of looks like a cupcake wrapper.

Scar's always wanted to wear that kind of skirt.

How long has he been staring at her?

"Hi," he manages, readjusting his sweaty grip on his cane. "Um. Come here often?"

She rolls her eyes.

It's breathtaking.

"Sorry, worst line in the book and all that," Scar excuses himself. "Can I order you another drink, then?"

She glances at the half-full drink she's been slowly working her way through. "I'm good, thanks," she says, and Scar nearly swoons.

The angel talked to him!

And her voice! Fluttery, but something deeper underneath! Textured like a symphonic piece of music, as soft as the faux fur carpets in the back of department stores!

She's perfect.

"I'll just cut straight to the point," Scar says, trying valiantly to not feel light-headed. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. May I take you out on a date?"

She blinks.

"You don't even know me," she says, leaning back down to take a dainty little sip out of the straw.

"No, but I want to," Scar reasons. "Can I get you anything? Some chips? A little umbrella?"

"The umbrellas come with the cocktails," she scoffs. She flicks her hair over her shoulder and Scar definitely doesn't almost fall over. "I'm not in the mood for a cocktail."

Scar leans forward. "You can ask for an umbrella with any drink," he whispers, winking conspiratorially. "I always do."

"What is it you really want?" she says, sounding almost tired, and Scar puts his hand to his heart.

"I just want to take you out on a date, I swear, nothing else," he says. "Scout's honor."

"Scout's honor?"

"Troupe 2906," Scar says, lying through his teeth. He was never a scout. Well, he did Cub Scouts, but he never made it to Boy Scouts. And he definitely didn't have a troupe. "Once a scout, always a scout."

Almost reluctantly, she giggles (a sound like windchimes softly jangling), then pulls her phone out of the tiny white purse at her side. "All right, fine. What's your name?"

"Scar," he tells her, pulling out his own phone. He unlocks it with a quick swipe, then pulls up a new contact card and trades his phone for the angel's.

"Your phone looks like it got ran over," she observes, picking at the tape on the side.

"If you pull that tape off, it goes dead."

She stops picking at it.

Scar types in his number slowly with one finger, leaning against the bar as casually as he can manage. He's been standing for a minute too long, but he doesn't want to make her uncomfortable by sitting down.

When he's finished, he passes the phone back to her, receiving his own in return.

"I'll text you," he promises.

She laughs again, nods. "Okay."

The way she dismisses him—

The conversation is clearly over, based on the way she turns back to her drink, her lips once again pursed but this time turned up at the corners.

Scar hurries out as fast as his body will allow him, which isn't very fast even on the best days.

Once he's outside, out of view of her, he checks his phone.

The contact is there, ten exquisite digits.

And her name.

Ariana.

-

"Cub, do you mind if I have someone over? I need to opine."

Cub looks up from his laptop, then flinches away when Scar turns on the lights.

"Scar, do you know what time it is?" he gripes, putting a pillow over his face.

"It's not even midnight, mister, so don't pretend like this is late. You're always up at all hours of the morning, anyway."

"Why can't you opine to me?" Cub sighs.

"You don't opine back! I need someone who will wallow on the floor with me."

Scar can practically hear Cub raise an eyebrow. "Ren?"

Scar grins. "Ren. He basically isn't even a guest, since he lives right above us. And it would only be for an hour at most!"

"Fine, fine," grumbles Cub, sitting up and setting his pillow to the side. "Call him. But I have a quiz tomorrow, so this better be quick."

Ren's over within five minutes, a two-liter of diet pepsi in one hand and a bag of candy in the other.

"Leftover Christmas candy, my dude," Ren says, tossing it on the floor. "You said you need to opine?"

Scar carefully lowers himself to sit on the floor, then flops down onto his back, his arms splayed out dramatically.

"Why are we doing this in my room?" groans Cub.

"I've seen an angel," Scar declares, and his heart flutters just the slightest bit.

"Ugh."

"Ooh!" Ren says, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "Tell me more."

"I was at the bar in Aquetown, right?" Scar starts, adjusting his arms to look more dramatic, one thrown over his forehead. "The good one. The quiet one."

"Right," nods Ren. "I know it well."

"And there she was," Scar says reverently. "The angel."

"What was her name? What happened? What did she—"

"Her name is Ariana," Scar breathes, the name as sweet on his lips as he knows her kiss would be. "She's perfect."

"Did you get her number?" Cub asks boredly.

Scar scoffs. "Of course I got her number! We're going on a date."

"Oooo!" Ren teases, slapping his shoulder. "My man has a date with a pretty girl!"

"She isn't just a girl," Scar says dreamily. "She's an angel. You should've seen her, Ren! If God himself turned up and told me that there had been a mistake, that she was supposed to be in heaven, I wouldn't have even blinked! She—"

"Yeah, she's a beautiful angel, we get it," interrupts Cub. "Can you do this in the living room?"

"What color are her eyes?" Ren asks.

"Grey . . . I've never met anyone with grey eyes. Not like those."

"What did she say? Is she into you?" Ren shakes his head. "What am I saying? Of course she's into you! Who wouldn't be?"

Scar. . . .

Scar hadn't even thought about that.

He'd just been so preoccupied with getting a date with such a perfect woman, he hadn't even thought about whether or not she might want one with him.

What if she secretly hates him?

What if she just told him yes to get him to go away?

"No, it's okay," Ren says quickly, patting his arm. "Don't cry! She's totally into you, dude! Don't even worry about it!"

"What if she isn't?" Scar asks, the hand thrown over his head moving to tug at his hair. "What if I was bothering her? What if she gave me a fake number?"

"No, dude, it's not—"

"Scar," Cub says, kneeling down on the floor beside him, "look at me."

There are already tears welling up in Scar's eyes when he looks up, straight into Cub's dark, unyielding eyes.

"Any woman would be lucky to have you," he says seriously. "If she was lying, that's her loss. Got it?"

Reluctantly, Scar nods, wiping away a tear with the heel of his palm.

Cub claps him on the shoulder. "Now get out of my room."

-

"Mumbo! Mumbo, you're never gonna guess—"

"In here!" Mumbo calls from their shared bedroom.

Grian shuts the front door and locks the deadbolt, then dashes down the short hall—past Pearl's empty bedroom—until he arrives at his own room. He shuts and locks that door behind himself as well, then leans against it, hands splayed on the old poorly-painted wood.

"Mumbo," he breathes. "Mumbo, it happened."

Mumbo is lying on his stomach on the floor, sleep shirt riding just a bit up his back from clear readjustments of position. He pushes his laptop a bit away, shuts whatever textbook he'd been studying, and rubs his eyes.

"You look cute," Mumbo says when he's done rubbing his eyes, blinking blearily at Grian. "Is that a new skirt?"

Grian stands up straight for a moment, twirls it back and forth. "Yeah, it's one of my new favorites, I think. Do you like it?"

"Looks great," says Mumbo. "Good show tonight?"

"It was fine, but that doesn't matter!" Grian falls back against the door again, letting himself slide all the way to the floor. "Mumbo, it finally happened. A man asked me out."

"No way!" Mumbo cheers, sitting up. "Like, legitimately? He thought—"

"He thought I was a girl and he asked me out!" Grian says. "This is the best day of my life. Nothing can top this."

"After—wait, after the performance? Or before? Because you think he'd know, after the performance, that it was drag, but maybe—"

"Oh, no, no, no," Grian waves him off. "This was at a different bar. I stopped by that one in Aquetown—you know, the dead one?—just on my way back, to try and get a decent drink before heading home. And he just came over to me—Mumbo, he called me the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen."

"Dude!" Mumbo waves his arms around like Kermit the Frog. "I think—I think we need to celebrate! Break out the ice cream, dude, because it's time to throw a party!"

Grian just breathes slowly, chest lifting and falling dramatically. He feels just like a girl in the movies after kissing her date goodbye, only better. More giddy, if that’s possible.

It's getting late, though. He should probably slip out of his heels, take out his hair extensions, wipe off his make-up, take off his boobs, change into pajamas. . . .

Or he could go eat ice cream in their tiny kitchen with Mumbo and animatedly recount every moment of the night.

Which is how Grian finds himself eating ice cream in their tiny kitchen with Mumbo, animatedly recounting every moment of the night.

"He has a cane," Grian remembers suddenly, halfway through telling Mumbo exactly what he'd said for the third time. "It was one of those old-fashioned ones. With the golden handle?"

"Okay, so he's, like, the rich heir of a mansion," Mumbo nods. "You could do a lot worse. Unless he was old—was he old?"

Grian shrugs. "I don't think so. He looked pretty young—he had a scar across his cheek, actually, kind of like—like this—"

He traces along his own cheek, starting from his jawbone, curving up a bit almost to his nose.

Mumbo frowns. "A scar? I think—"

The front door of the apartment opens, and in trudges Pearl, kicking off her muddy boots.

"Pearl!" Grian says excitedly, holding out his scraped-up plastic bowl, a couple of bites of melting ice cream still left. "We're having ice cream to celebrate!"

Pearl drops her blue backpack on the floor of the living room (right beside the front door, the dead carpet there dividing it from the tiled entrance space that leads into the kitchen). She looks first to Grian, then Mumbo, then the carton of vanilla ice cream on the kitchen counter.

"Sounds like a party!" she says, sticking her hands in her hoodie pockets. "You both look nice!"

"Oh! Um, thanks!" Mumbo says, while Grian does a little spin, his skirt lifting in the air (not that Pearl can see, standing on the other side of the counter as she is).

"A man asked me out," Grian tells her. "While he thought I was a woman!"

"Well, of course he did! You make a very pretty girl, Grian."

"Yeah, but you have to say that. You're my sister. He called me the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen."

"Awww," Pearl coos. She comes around the counter, pulls a chipped bowl out of the dishwasher (used to dry dishes, not wash them) along with a spoon, which she uses to load some ice cream into the bowl before sticking a spoonful in her mouth.

"What was his name?" she asks around the ice cream, words muffled.

Grian frowns. "I don't remember. He didn't write it in the contact. That isn't important, though—he asked me out!"

"Are you going to go?"

Grian freezes.

Is he going to. . . ?

"Oh no," he says, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. "I—I didn't even think about that."

"Think about what?" Mumbo asks, scraping his spoon along the side of his bowl.

"I don't want to go on a date," Grian says. Oh, this is dreadful! "I just liked the attention! What do I do, Mumbo? I gave him my number and everything!"

Pearl scoffs. "You gave him your number? You're basically required to go on a date with him. If you give a man your real number, it means you're interested."

"Did you tell him you'd go on a date with him?"

Grian cringes. ". . . Maybe?"

"Grian!"

"I can't help it!" Grian defends. "I love flirting, you know that!"

Mumbo covers his face, bowl abandoned on the counter.

"Grian," Pearl bemoans.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. . . ."

"Well, we'd better hope he's a creep!" Mumbo says loudly, face still buried in his hands. "Because then you don't have to feel bad about ditching the date!"

"Was he nice?" asks Pearl.

Grian shrugs helplessly. "I guess? He tried to give me a drink umbrella."

"Oh. So, very drunk."

"No, I think he just wanted me to have one."

"Goodness, Grian. You've got yourself in a bit of a situation," Mumbo says, finally emerging from his hands. He looks into his bowl, frowns at the lack of ice cream.

"Maybe he'll forget about it?" Grian suggests, but his heart isn't really in it.

He doesn't have much hope. Not with the way the man had talked to him. No, he's probably just set himself up for a month of progressively creepier and more disgusting texts until he blocks the man and files a 'do not contact' directive with the school.

Assuming this man is a student.

What if he's, like, an old man? 

Like, thirty?

Okay. This is too much.

Hopefully, he just doesn't text. Then Grian won't have to worry about it. Which won't happen, but he can dream.

"We can talk more about it tomorrow, all right?" Mumbo says, tossing his bowl in the sink. "It's getting late. And G, you should probably put your, er, appendages away."

"My bosom?" Grian says, raising an eyebrow.

"His tittie-tatties?" Pearl suggests.

"My breastily breasting boobs?"

"His badonka donk—"

"Please just get them off the counter."

[koishua]

ㅤ      ㅤ   𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀yarenim evde (my darling is home).ㅤ ওㅤ

ㅤ        ㅤ       𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀hwang hyunjin fluff fem reader .ㅤ ও

ㅤ        ㅤ       𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀1.121k words no warnings enjoy .ㅤ ও

ㅤ        ㅤ       𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀he comes home after gda2025! .ㅤ ও

Stepping into the confines of the familiar apartment’s front doors, he waits for the elevator to arrive from the topmost floor. The quiet bell alerts him to its arrival, ready to whisk him away to the place he calls home. The characteristic music assigned to elevators is absent. Small blessings, since his entire day had been about blaring speakers and blinding lights. Some quiet time was much needed to ease his desperate ear drums and nothing can stand between him and the soft touches of his favourite person alive (there are quite a few people he would commit near war crimes to meet, but we do not verge there).

When you open the door just as he is about to reach for his spare keys, the warmth of a home lived-in and loved greets him like an embrace, your arms pulling him in gently through the door and taking his coat before he reaches to undo his shoes. The world seems to tilt at its axis without warning and he has to rush to put a hand on the floor for balance, struck by an unforgiving moment of exhaustion now that he’s finally reached his safest space. 

“Woah,” you reach for the slumped over man by the shoe racks, soft hands gripping his assuredly, bringing him over to the sofa– thank God– closeby, “don’t worry. You aren’t dying, loverboy.”

Hyunjin chuckles at the teasing remark, content at finally catching the faint scent of your perfume clinging onto your clothes from earlier that morning. Lying down, he’s finally able to come back to his senses, making out a buzzing sound of what he assumes to be the coffee you loved to literal death. He has to fulfill his boyfriend duties and worry about your health, so he peeks over the back of the couch to reprimand, “You shouldn’t be drinking that at this time of the night.”

“Right, because you always listen to me when I tell you to rest. I’ll drink this, thank you.” You have to roll your eyes at his offended expression, though none taken. Offering him a mug of his favourite calming tea, you sit on the carpet by his side, coffee and tea resting on the small table until they cool down just enough to drink without scalding your tongues.

Hyunjin traces over the valleys of your face, flicking the bridge of your nose with a laugh from where he’s lying on his side, facing your direction like the sunflower to your sun. Your elbow rests on the cushion, supporting your cheek. The makeup his stylists had applied on him for their award show performance tonight looked impeccable, still, despite how worn his body felt. You admired the eyeshadow framing his brown eyes– so warm, so full of adoration, practically dripping with overflowing honey. 

“You did good,” your thumb brushing over his cheekbone, cupping his jaw, “I was watching you and my friends kept gushing about you.” Your beloved’s face gleams with mirthful eyes, amused by the fact that none of your friends knew who your long-time boyfriend seemed to be, still. You were always the first one to tease them for being such big fans, devilishly keeping the tiny little secret that their favourite member has been in love with you for years now and you couldn’t imagine a life without him henceforth. 

The day he’d facetimed you sporting his brand new hair, you’d shrieked, dropping your phone in the process. He’d grown worried, wondering if you’d hated it, but you simply demanded he come home as soon as he possibly could. Why, he’d questioned, not that he’d ever refuse, and when you dropped the “We’re going to have so much fun.” bomb on him, he’d left his belongings on the spot, damn near hopping and skipping his way over.

Now, he is sliding down the cushion to huddle into your side. Warm tea in his hand, an arm slung comfortably around his sun’s shoulder to bring her closer without a single worry of being taken over by your scorching heat. Welcoming the destruction as much as the creation of everything beautiful in this world (his world, because so long as he has you, Hwang Hyunjin is a King and the whole world is his– you are).

Your fingers absentmindedly play with the hand over your shoulder he has graced you with, sipping on your caffeine concoction. “Congratulations on your Bonsang. You guys deserve it so much with how hard you work and deliver. Tell the boys that I’m so happy for them, too.” 

Light reaches his eyes when his lips pull apart into a wide smile, still exhilarated by the prospect of having won. “Thank you, my boss lady.” He presses a chaste kiss on your temple, getting a waft of your shampoo he’s used on more than a handful of occasions, later on finding one of his own in the shower. Now, everything here seemed to be for two, hints of love scattered all around in every insignificant corner of the house. 

“Shut up,” you giggle at the name he’d designated for you a long while ago, “I should be called Lady Overlord at this point.”

There is a certain pitch he laughs at like a cute little chime and you’re lucky enough to hear it on the regular. “People think I’m talking about my CEO whenever I tell them that boss is calling. It’s pretty funny, to be honest.”

Finding moments of silence as comfortable as this is hard for someone constantly surrounded by loud friends and loud music so Hyunjin knows to cherish it until it eventually ends. For now, he succumbs to the ache in his bones and lays his head on your lap, spine finally decompressing all of the pressure it has withstood the whole award season preparation period, followed up by rigorous performances. Tingles run down until they reach his fingertips from the way you oh, so deliciously run your nails on his scalp, smoothing over his short hair, the texture so satisfying to play with that you can never seem to get enough of it.

You know the effect it has on him as he’s often fallen asleep to you playing with his hair, short and long. He still has to take off his stage makeup and shower off the sweat and debris, but you allow him this brief moment of rest. That can wait another fifteen minutes, showing some much needed love and affection cannot. You can see his lashes fluttering closed despite trying his damndest to keep them open (he needs to keep them open, damn it, you wouldn’t understand. Breathing is a sin unless it’s your scent, sight a sin unless it’s to look into your eyes. You don’t understand, his planet orbits around your sun. Without you pulling him in, he is but a rogue, lost in the dark and cold space, wandering without aim).

“Relax, I’ll wake you up soon.” You shush him, swiping your palm over his eyes like a gentle feather. Hyunjin takes your word for it, drifting into a saccharine sweet sleep, lulled to sleep by your silent hum, the dishwasher’s rumble falling even further into the distant scapes of his mind.

© KOISHUA 2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[deusfoundry]

Hii again, sorry if I'm asking for a lot of Cedric requests (you can ignore this if you'd like). But there's this idea that's been plaguing my mind, where Cedric has always been told he has a lovely, charming, or beautiful smile that brightens up people's day or anything of the sort. But to him he doesn't really know what people mean when they say that. Until he sees reader's smile that just instanyly brightens up his day. "7 billion smiles, but yours is my favorite"

Thank you for reading thiss

hi nonnie! im assuming you're also the one who sent the ced request i got prior to this one and if so, please dont apologize!! i truly adore this man and i love writing for him! i hope i was able to do your prompt justice w this one eheh MWAH <333

if cedric's got a sickle for every time someone has told him he had a pretty smile, he'd be bloody rich by age fourteen.

he's heard it from everyone. from strangers on the street, older men with a head full of gray hair seeing a reflection of themselves decades ago in his youthful eyes. from letters he'd find slipped into his bag, secret admirers waxing poetic about his smile, how it had been enough to make the hour and a half they spend in snape's class bearable, how seeing him from across the great hall at dinner was the one thing they look forward to the most.

he's heard it first, and perhaps most often, from his own mother, who'd take his cheeks into her hands and look at him as if she's holding the entire galaxy between her palms.

"you've got the loveliest smile, my dear boy. never lose it."

but he doesn't know what it means, to have a smile that brightens up the room. he can't wrap his mind around how one tiny smile can be enough to rid someone free of the burdens they accumulate as dawn turns to dusk.

cedric doesn't understand until he finds himself tucked in a corner of the library, buried under a mountain of books and parchment on what's supposed to be a weekend spent at hogsmeade.

he normally has a better hand at managing his responsibilities, but the combination of head boy duties, quidditch season starting in two weeks, and the workload that comes with n.e.w.t. level classes has made it impossible to do anything but thank merlin that he even manages to get through a single day.

cedric fights the urge to groan as he feels the seeds of an all familiar headache sprouting. an invisible force pounds against his head, a faint thud every few seconds that sends a twitch to his eye, but he knows it won't take long until he feels like an ogre is bashing his head against the thick books laying in front of him.

he wishes nothing more than for you to be here, with your own share of work, filling the stifling silence of his own little corner of the library with your frantic scribbling on parchment.

you'd let him take a break by now, body slumping against yours as he slots his head on the crook of your neck. he would breathe you in, greedily, and bite back a grin when you giggle at the ticklish feeling of his nose brushing against your skin. your fingers would find themselves tangled with his hair, tugging at the roots and digging at his scalp with enough pressure to release the tension on his shoulders.

he needs you, overwhelmingly so, but your friends had already whisked you off to hogsmeade before he could even ask if you'd want to join him.

at this point, he'd much rather take the ogre than spend another second alone.

"there you are."

cedric's head snaps towards the direction of your voice. he knows you're talking, watches the open and close of your mouth and the almost animated expressions your face dons as you approach him, but he's not hearing any of it.

he sees your smile, a reflection of the sun and the stars, and finally, he understands just how powerful it can be. he remains in a trance even as you clear a spot on the table for you to sit. his body moves entirely on auto-pilot, thighs spreading apart to make way for your legs as he drags himself and his chair closer to you. you've barely touched him, and yet he feels as if he's being pulled into a warm embrace by the clouds as you fish for his hand, locking your fingers together.

"love? are you alright?"

cedric swiftly slides his arms around your waist. he rests his head on your lap and hopes that the quiet hum he lets out is enough to quell your worries.

"better, bug. now that you're here."

vividly, he can imagine the face you make. a grimace in feigned disgust, your bottom lip between your teeth as you try to hold back a giggle.

"that's cheesy, ced." you give his head a light shove before running your fingers through his hair, to which cedric responds with a laugh and the tightening of his arms. he's given you no chance of escape, palms clutching onto the flesh.

"it's the truth."

and it is. if your smile had been enough to ease the ache in his body, brighten his day despite his workload that refuses to decrease, what more now that he's got you in his arms.

[bookloover35]

Beneath the Moonlit Waves, Sanji x fem reader.

The Thousand Sunny drifted peacefully on the still ocean, the moon casting a silvery glow over its deck. Most of the Straw Hat crew had retired for the night—except for Sanji, who had gone out of his way to set up a romantic little scene just for you. Candles flickered in lanterns, soft blankets were draped over the deck, and the faint hum of music seemed to rise from the waves.

You sat opposite him, feeling your cheeks flush as he poured a glass of wine for you with his usual finesse. But as charming as Sanji was tonight, you couldn't help but feel like you were being watched.

Luffy and Usopp were crouched behind a barrel not far from the setup, their faces split into mischievous grins.

"Do you think he's going to kiss her?" Luffy whispered loudly, his excitement barely contained.

"Shh!" Usopp hissed, smacking Luffy on the arm. "They'll hear us! Besides, Sanji's so awkward, there's no way he'll make a move on his own. We're going to have to help."

Sanji, completely oblivious to his crewmates, glanced up at you with those soft, adoring blue eyes of his. "I, uh, hope this isn't too much. I just thought...a beautiful evening deserves to be shared with someone even more beautiful."

You felt your face heat up. "Thank you, Sanji. It's perfect."

Meanwhile, Luffy was nearly bouncing in place. "Come on, just kiss her already!"

Usopp groaned and rubbed his temples. "Okay, that's it. He's hopeless. Time for Plan B."

From their hiding spot, Usopp pulled out a small, hand-crafted ukulele. He strummed a few discordant notes before finding a rhythm, singing softly at first.

"Sha-la-la-la-la, don't be shy, you better kiss the girl..."

Sanji's head whipped around, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the deck. "What the hell is that?!"

You stifled a laugh, your hand flying to your mouth. "It sounds like... Usopp?"

Usopp, trying not to break into laughter himself, kept going, his voice exaggeratedly smooth. "Yes, you want her... Look at her, you know you do..."

Sanji's face turned red as he stood up, fists clenched. "Usopp! I swear, I'm going to—"

But before he could finish, Luffy popped up from behind the barrel, completely ignoring the tension. "Sanji, why don't you just kiss her? Everyone can see you like her! It's so obvious!"

You froze, your face burning as Sanji turned to you, panic in his eyes. "Luffy! Shut up! This isn't—"

"Go on, kiss her!" Luffy encouraged, pointing at you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Sanji let out a frustrated sigh, muttering something under his breath before turning back to you. "I...I'm so sorry about them. They're idiots."

You couldn't help but laugh, the ridiculousness of the situation easing your nerves. "It's okay. They're just trying to help...in their own way."

Sanji hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath, his expression softening. "Still...if they're going to sing about it, I might as well give them something to sing about."

Your heart skipped a beat as he stepped closer, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. His gaze locked with yours, searching for permission.

"Is this okay?" he asked softly.

You nodded, and before you could say another word, his lips met yours in a kiss that was warm, sweet, and full of the emotion he always tried to hide.

From behind the barrel, Luffy cheered loudly, clapping his hands. "Yeah! He did it!"

Usopp sighed, slinging the ukulele over his shoulder. "About time. I was running out of lyrics."

The two of them scampered off into the night, leaving you and Sanji alone once more beneath the moonlit waves.

[firequeenofficial]

I miss the Ranchers. That is all I have to say.

-

When they finally managed to put out the mansion, Jimmy slipped away from the others, finding a quiet spot to hide away. He just needed a moment to breathe. He'd been struggling ever since he'd first seen Tango with Etho, Skizz and Impulse.

He'd never felt anything like this before, like a part of him was missing, broken off, stolen. He saw Tango laughing with his friends, and his heart ached. He had once made Tango laugh like that. He had once been the person Tango relied on. Now, he watched his soulmate, his Rancher, with the others, and it was like he didn't even care, or didn't remember. He hadn't even reacted when Jimmy had called him, "Rancher".

He wondered whether Joel felt the same way watching Etho. He didn't think so - Joel had barely stopped laughing since he'd found him, except to rage about the mansion being set on fire, of course. Besides, Joel wouldn't even remember Double Life.

He sat at the top of a hill in the south-east corner of the world, watching the sun rise beyond the border. He was grateful everyone seemed to want to base close together this season; it left plenty of free space to hide away.

He hated this. He hated being one of only three people who ever remembered each season. He hated Grian for forcing this on him. He hated the Watchers for forcing it on Grian. More than anything, he hated himself for not being able to do anything but whine about it. Grian was his brother, he should have been able to help him, but there was nothing he could do.

He wondered if Pearl felt anything, watching Scott with Martyn. Was there any part of her that missed him, even though they'd done nothing but fight the whole time they were soulbound? She couldn't remember Last Life, he knew, but did some part of her long for it anyhow? He wished he could speak with her about it, but she would probably just call him silly. No one else pined after their alliances from previous seasons, after all. It was just him that was so pathetic that he longed for the first person to be genuinely gentle with him.

That didn't make it any easier, after all. It didn't make him long any less. It didn't make Tango suddenly mean nothing to him.

He missed him.

That was the plain and simple truth of it. He missed Tango. Void, he missed him so damn much it hurt.

He sighed and dropped his face into his hands, fighting back tears. He was completely alone, but he still couldn't bring himself to feel it all, not so strongly, not all the way.

He just had to move on. It was that easy. He just had to let the Bad Boys be his new people, and he had to let Team TIES be Tango's new people, and he had to leave it at that.

He could do that.

Jimmy took a deep breath and leaned back slightly, turning his attention back to the brightening horizon. A breeze ruffled his hair.

The pain lessened, just slightly.

"Jimmy?"

The pain came back full force, and he froze.

No. No, he couldn't be here. Not now, not when he'd committed to letting him go.

Jimmy didn't turn. He didn't say anything.

After a moment's hesitation, Tango sat down beside him. Jimmy didn't move. He didn't look at him.

"Wow, what a view." Tango's heart clearly wasn't in the observation, though.

Silence was Jimmy's only response.

Tango apparently decided that beating about the bush was overrated. "Are you upset with me?"

Jimmy closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at him. "No." That was true, at least. He was upset about Tango, not with him.

The blazeborn let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. I would hate for you to be mad at me. I don't know how I'd do this without my Rancher."

Jimmy was so surprised that he snapped his eyes open and his head around to face him. "What?"

He was met with a smirk that he'd learnt to adore. "What, you didn't think I'd forgotten, had you?"

He remembered. He remembered! Jimmy could have cried with joy! Tango remembered him!

But Jimmy didn't cry. Instead, he let out a loud, jubilant laugh and launched himself at his Rancher, throwing his arms around Tango's neck. The pair fell to the ground, both laughing, clinging to each other. Jimmy buried his face in Tango's neck, holding on like Tango might disappear the moment he let go.

"You really did think I forgot, didn't you," Tango realised, and held him closer.

"I thought I lost you." Jimmy's voice was muffled by Tango's shirt collar.

Tango huffed a small laugh, running his hands through Jimmy's hair. "We're in this together, buddy. Even if we're on different teams, you'll always be my Rancher."

This was what Jimmy had been missing. Two whole seasons, he'd searched for this. For something who cared for him no matter what, in thick or thin, even across lifetimes. Tango was... exactly what he needed. Exactly what he wanted.

Jimmy sighed, his breath shaky. He was going to be okay.

Whatever happened this season, he was going to be okay. He could face whatever with his Rancher by his side.

They were going to be okay.

[shokveyv]

Ok i wanna make it very clear this isn't being said out of anger or hate but an small explanation of to why some people might get the wrong impression about the Sari x Sentinel art.

Imagine a family friend having seen a child grow up and had been around them through their childhood. So they have seen them grow up.

But the moment they become 18, they decide "This child i have seen as a baby, a child, a teen, I now want to date them" it comes of very predatory. And creepy.

It is in turn, odd for someone who grew up with an adult in their life. To being attacted to them even when they get older. It makes it seem like there some implications on the child's (now adult) side, that don't make it seem very innocent.

Sentinel is millions of years old. He has seen Sari grow up from a kid, to a teen, and now adult.

While yes they are now both consenting adults, but the implications behind this attraction is what is very suspicious.

I an not saying this was what you beleive in or intended. But your audience, esspcially your western audience might get the impression you do.

I also know English isn't your first language, so I hope this doesn't get lost in translation or come across as aggressive. It's not. I very much adore your work, this is the only time I've been kinda taken off gaurd by your content.

At the very least, I think you should change the way Adults sari outfit looks to make it very clear this isn't her teen self. And people's styles and outfits change when they get older too, so you could have fun coming up with that.

Again, this isn't made out of hate or anger. Just an explanation as to why people might feel so strongly about the art.

Thank you for context explanation to the Western view. I think I understand? It struggles though . Sentinel has never been family friend. He is enemy to human, sees Sari as infestation canon.

Canonical, Sentinel Prime few interact with Sari. Doesn't know the name! He never see alt mode [unless I misremember]. In story, not see Sari in ten or more years. On Cybertron ten year later. Sees Sari of her alt mode [it is a robot!] and he wonder who she is. He was not interest in her as organic [not as child, not as teen], canonical. Canon, he hate organic! Why be interest in her? Story, he works to get acclimatize to this organic form when! he learns she is not a robot only. The text you say is implying he has seen her grown. Canon, he did not care about her and did not acknowledge her more than a contamination [he is bad as Megatron MTMTE, wanting death of organic]. He doesn't recognize her when she reveals organic at first [it is how little he has ever seen for the Sari].

Canonically, she still a stranger to him.

Thank you for explaining the hesitation. It seem, there are many people don't understand in Japan, it is common for 10+ year ago, one child and adult meet, but in when child is to become adult, they may cross red string of fate and meet again! It is exposing xenophobia I did not expect. It is okay to misunderstand. It is not okay to insult my culture because one finds it icky.

Distressing, people say I should change her cloth. I not change cloth wardrobe from high school. I feel, I am being shamed. It is humiliating. There is something wrong with me for not changing my clothes... It was going to have her wear different cloth in comic, Sari is fashionista! ^^\ I was so excited to see the wear different dress and makeup cool! The drawing is cover of the full comic

I write about: "In my story, he not know of her robot form. Years later, he sees her on Cybertron in robot form. Wonders, "Who is she?" stalks her for many year until he finally gets the chance to ask more. She doesn't like him because he organic fears [he doesn't know robot-Sari is organic]. She ride with Drift for long time but as she grow, she finds divisive [Drift is become unstable], so strays alone. This is on top of fighting against the Megatron release from Trypticon. Sentinel losing Magnus status humbles him, Predacons become a major threat, Optimus Magnus, Sari starts to understand Sentinel is not as big mean as before. He grows as character. She begrudgingly accepts it

Sari not written to fall for Sentinel. Only recent in writing this story did I see to involve Sentinel [he had recent fall away from Magnus status, Optimus picks it up]. Is ten years of plot before she meets Sentinel as robot version on Cybertron. It distresses to see people calling me pedophile. I work on total story for 9 month.

But, people are not okay to read,s not okay to write character grows, mature, having adventures on the way. I regret writing this story, knows now people don't want to read stories of character beyond canon. The context is too burden on the psyche. I have learned my lesson. I will not write outside of canon again. I am a disappointment.

Sincerely for the explanation, is thanking you. Maybe it is better to keep Japan only release, then. It will be understood there. ? [I pay to have last comic translation to English, I did not want the xenophobia me of the past. I want to be better! but it is not going to be happy for English. I truly this doesn't portray as me hating English speaks].

[stitchzin]

Letter from a Crow

As soon as Rook disappears, Lucanis is the one who decides to tell Viago, the word spreads as Rook's friends begin to read books on how to rescue her. Lucanis goes to Caterina, they meet at the Cassino, and says he stopped her from confessing because he didn't wanted bad luck. Now he feared he would never hear this again.

"She wanted to call me Vhenan... do you know what it means... It means, my heart."

"My poor boy..."

"Raise your head" Illario appears behind him. "You won't avange her while having it down." They were a weird family but they were there, healing some woulds.

But Viago's family was Rook and Teia. And both don't know what to do this time. One day the owner of one of the city's theaters enters the Cantori Diamond, and gives Teia a letter that looked like it had been read several times.

She said that regardless of whether Rook was found or not, Viago should read it.

Rook was unique in relation to many crows, she did not move from the main house after she started earning her money. In fact, she even has a rented room near the theater, but she only used it when she had her nights with friends. Her "real" room was positioned next to Viago's room. Every morning he opened her door and said "Those who earn money lying down are whores, get up", even if Astraea was already awake.

He drank coffee Rook drinked her chocolate, talked about various subjects, nobility and Crow gossip, new poisons and the weather. Teia adored that, It was rare that she and Rook shared the breakfast table, but it was pure entertainment to watch Rook and Viago have the same mannerisms.

Viago was training when Teia delivered the letter, the exhausted body of a man who tried to throw his emotions on anything but those around him. He had returned from a visit to Caterina, who had been through something similar. There was no way of knowing what the first Talon had advised him, but it had had an effect on him.

And reading that yellowed paper, with purple ink and a dried jasmine branch on the page made him freeze. Rook had had the courage to say what he had never said explicitly. And without her there for him to provoke, or correct.

He didn't know what to do.

The only person he wanted to talk to about his favorite's disappearance was herself. Teia and he sat on the balcony drinking wine. The balcony of Rook's room, surrounded by her things he asked the servants to keep it neat. The vases of jasmine that never died made everything smell like her. And he read it again out loud.

Nesryn,

I remember the day I arrived in Treviso, the way I followed Viago because I thought I could rob him he was covered in silver and good quality leather, only to witness a murder. I didn't even feel afraid it was so quick and ellegant. He dragged me by the ear to you, thought I was one of your children and apologized afterwards and turned his back. I think he thought my Vallaslin was a theater painting because of its unique lines.

Despite everything, the following week I followed him, he told me to mislead people and I did it, he told me to deliver messages and I went.

He would give me a candy, a bag of fruit or a silver coin. If he was having a good day, a full meal before correcting my acrobatics. Funny two weeks. But... If I hadn't stolen keys from that smuggler and entered that warehouse and freed him of that trap, he might never have taken me to Villa De Riva. If Viago had been impressed by my peculiar way of moving between the rooftops before, he didn't show it until that day, always so critical. In my 12-year-old mind he hated it, but today I know he corrects it, because he cares.

"Astraea is your name now, Sitara is dead in that desert." I didn't want to stop being Dalish, and when Viago said he would never ask for such a thing, I accepted. I think he just accepted that I would always be this slightly wild thing with blue hair.

I arrived at the Crows knowing much more about hunting and survival than murder and became my unique self, always thinking of a way out, a new trick. Even so, with all this transformation I still saw myself arriving at your house. With bruises, cuts and sore muscles. Learning to make medicines, cook with you or play one of your instruments. You asked me to leave thw Crows, and I asked where. Still you were there when I became a crow, and when I did so well at my job that I earned the family name.

I heald high for many years.

When Antaam arrived, when he caught you, I had to show my gratitude by saving you. Obviously, the Talons weren't happy, but I trusted Viago. Even though I was afraid of being abandoned again. After a lot of yelling, Viago sent me away. I knew he was risking his neck by doing this, so I obeyed. And I didn't regret saving the friends I made at the theater. Nor did I regret traveling together. We passed through villages while I hid half of my face. There I saw a different family, light conversations at the table, lessons on sewing clothes, who would wash the dishes, putting feelings into poems and songs.

It was a beautiful time. And thank you for showing me this family that was made up of our friends. It was beautiful to see worlds within the world, realities marked by a veil that separates them from the rest. Dancing gave me new ways to practice sword and dagger, so beautiful that you had me as a nighttime attraction, using a ribbon to disguise the murderous beauty of my hands.

The thing is, my world is different from yours. In my life, I learned to get up when I fall, to keep walking because no one will save you, to endure pain so that it becomes a surmountable difficulty, to feel the effects of poison before receiving the antidote and to build up resistance. It wasn't easy. But that's what my family taught me. And that's what saved me many times.

Nessie the issue is... staying with you, away from Treviso without being able to return reminded me that Viago is my family. He and I are within the same veil. And the difference between you two is brutal.

You told me that "It's possible to live even after discovering that the world has gone bad, as long as I don't allow the world's evil to seem normal."

Viago told me "We carry death in the shadows, and at the same time we look in the eyes and say: not today."

We have different lifes, different sayings to keep our heads held high in the world we live in.

Being in this family these days rekindled my light and I'm going to use it to deserve to return home. That's why I'm leaving with Varric and Harding. I promised I would only send a letter to Viago through a contact, but life is as untamed as I am.

I'll see you again in Treviso.

Love, Astraea De Riva.

[crow-crystal]

DC PROMPT TIME

Jason Todd x Reader

(Made this while I take a small break from my Batsis au. Leans more towards fem Reader)

☆★☆★☆★☆

Is it you? Have my prayers been answered?

Reader stood in the middle of the room they'd grown so familiar with in the past few years. Breath hitching as she looked to the man in the doorway, he seemed just as frozen as she was. Reader had been there when Bruce figured out the infamous Red Hood's identity, yet they still hadn't been able to do much of anything with the knowledge. Perhaps it hadn't truly sunk in? The fact the boy she'd been in love with was alive, the fact his grave she'd visited so many times was now empty.

Is it really you standing there, or am I dreaming once more?

She couldn't help but whisper to herself if this was real. So many times, she'd woken disappointed, heartbroken, and empty. Stepping towards the man coated in blood if only a little. She remembered clearly when Bruce found out who Red Hood was. When they found out Jason was alive.

You look different, your eyes look tired

Your frame is lighter, your smile torn

Is it really you, my love?

Jason couldn't help but stare. It'd been so long after all. She was older now, aged like fine wine, as some would say. If he could, he might have cracked a joke at how she still wasn't taller than him. The apartment building, the same one the two had declared was going to be theirs one day back when they were kids, seemed so much different now. Reader had grown accustomed to the emptiness of their apartment and the noise that came with the men that had taken over most of the building. As disgusting as they were, they never committed a crime, at least not one that they couldn't bribe their way out of. Bruce had tried so many times in the past to convince her to move, but she'd promised Jason all those years ago that they would live together here. Silly as it may be, she wanted to be able to do something, anything to keep him in her life someway after he was gone.

I am not the man you fell in love with

I am not the man you once adored

I am not your kind and gentle husband

And I am not the love you knew before

Jason didn't know whether he wanted to run away or collapse into her arms. The both of them stared at the other with tears gathering in their eyes, and Jason just barely managed to choke out how he wasn't the Robin she knew anymore. He'd said it so many times to Bruce after all. So much time had passed, and he still held so much pain and anger towards the world that refused to change after his death. The magic Robin gave him, the magic he once loved would never return to his life, and he'd never be the child he once was. He was ready, ready for her to tell him to leave, to be scared, disgusted, and angry at him for changing.

Would you fall in love with me again

If you knew all I've done?

The things I cannot change

Would you love me all the same?

I know that you've been waiting, waiting for love

Bruce had spoken, in one of the rare moments Jason listened, of how Reader was doing. How she'd been the past few years. The apartment that was supposed to be their future home was full of the same type of men he'd grown up taking down with Bruce all those years ago. He'd researched and found out more, yet he hadn't had the guts to meet her. Even now, he knew it would hurt, her not accepting him. The very idea made him take a moment to stop himself from shedding his tears. Still, he was ready for the same sickening idea to come true.

What kinds of things did you do?

He was Red Hood, a Crime Lord, a killer, a monster. Bruce would agree. Batman was known for hating the way Red Hood did things after all.

Left a trail of red on every island

As I traded friends like objects I could use

Hurt more lives than I can count on my hands

But all of that was to bring me back to you

So tell me

He didn't regret it, even if she chose to hate him for it. Just as he didn't regret getting rid of the criminals that had decided to live in the apartment building she stayed at. It hadn't taken much to find out what crowds they were involved in, the crimes they committed daily. The fact she'd endured living near men who undoubtedly gave her no respect had flooded his mind with the familiar green rage of the Pit at the time.

Would you fall in love with me again

If you knew all I've done?

The things I can't undo

I am not the man you knew

I know that you've been waiting, waiting

Reader stood in front of him now, staring into the face of a man she wished she had been able to be with every step of the way. Jason, her Jason, the same boy that read books with her and made fun of the people below as they stayed up at night on the roof of whatever apartment building they'd chosen to perch on. The same boy she grew up with on the streets of Gotham, the same boy that brought her to Bruce's manor, refusing to forget her even after he was given a better life than a street-rat's.

If that's true, could you do me a favor?

Just a moment of labor that would bring me some peace

See that wedding bed? Could you carry it over?

Lift it high on your shoulders and take it far away from here

Reader couldn't help but move closer. Racing to acknowledge everything that was happening. Mind already decided as she took his hand with a gentleness that made him flinch. He froze once more, a necklace now in his grasp. The same necklace he'd given her just a week before he'd died, made of smooth sea glass and a few seashells he'd gathered on rare day at a beach that Bruce had taken him too.

How could you say this?

I had built that wedding bed with my blood and sweat

Carved it into the olive tree where we first met

A symbol of our love everlasting

Do you realize what you have asked me?

The only way to move it is to cut it from its roots

He asked, voice shaky with either anger or disbelief if he had the energy to figure it out, why she would give him this. Why, after everything, she would try and make him take it back. He remembered the day he gifted her It clearly. It had been when he confessed, when he promised so many things, when he told her how much he loved her. Even if he was readying for her to hate him, he couldn't bear the thought of her getting rid of the evidence that he loved her.

Only my husband knew that

So I guess that makes him you

Maybe she was being mean, but he was being stupid. A smile managing to take over her face for a moment as she hears him speak the exact reason she kept that necklace all this time. "You're Jason, I don't care about Robin, or Red Hood, just you Jason" She managed to say. "God's you're an idiot for thinking that'd ever change"

I don't care how, where, or when

I will fall in love with you over and over again

No matter how long it's been, you're mine

Don't tell me you're not the same person

You're always my husband, and I've been waiting, waiting

Waiting

He let tears fall, finally taking a step closer, closing the distance between the two of them as his arms wrap around her. Warmth flooding their two hearts as tears fall from each.

For you

I love you

He loved her, more than anything. Yet she, too, adored him. Jason, whether cheerful and speaking of magic gifted by bright colored suits or bloody and taking a stand for Justice in his own violent way. He was still Jason, her Jason.

☆★☆★☆★☆

Jason Todd x Reader inspired by "would you fall in love with me again" by Jorge anyone?

(Please someone write this, pls pls pls)

[xoparrish]

currently binge watching outlander and every time jamie calls claire his wife my heart MELTS 🥹

[lorax-devito]

just finished rewatching asoue and aside from everything I have to say all I keep seeing is ppl saying ‘how’d Olaf pull esmé’ and yes,how did he pull her but also how’d he pull kit????? like,those mfs were engaged😭😭

[emile-hides]

I’m so obsessed with the Mario family and while I’m a very hard Uncle Tony stan I’m also insanely obsessed with Auntie Marie and her daughter. I want to know all about them.

[bmpmp3]

the really beautiful landscape/skyscape animation in makoto shinkai's works tends to be the big thing i see focused on and that is understandable and deserved like the weather and lighting effects are unREAL but i do think we should also appreciate how absolute insane the plotlines of his original movies get. at least two movies with in universe catastrophes with major ecological implications. the guns and explosions. theres that one movie i havent seen yet with the guy who turns into a chair (?)

[moe-broey]

I'm too lazy to illustrate it (plus I think I'd get too caught up in the process LMFAO) but when drawing/adding personal touches to Lif's design I am channeling Lio Fotia Promare for his armor (ESP the Mad Burnish armor) Lewis Mystery Skulls (less aesthetic similarities reflected but like, kinda similar broad chested body type similar vibes and important heart motifs) (heart motif isn't pictured in this Lewis image but if you've seen the animated music vids you get it) and literally just any 2D animated Disney villain who is Shaped and Dramatic (and has a huge fucking cape or coat -- tbh the specific ones I think about are Maleficent and Cruella just from the dramatic/big cape standpoint, purely aesthetic)

(fuck it after a lot of thinking Hades is a good one too)

[sassy-assassin]

Buddy Daddies episode 12 WAS SO GOOD WTF IM SOBBING I CANT EVEN WITH THIS BEAUTIFUL FAMILY. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!

Spoilers (and my unhinged thoughts) in the tags just fyi