#look this was going to be such a different thing and then. my brain went HEY BUDDY GUESS THE FUCK WHAT kyoto is a city in Japan.

[lowkeyren]

—reject me not!

in which : when your sudden confession catches blade off guard, his response comes across as a rejection. though he realises his mistake, and tries his best to make things right. (...it gives the whole hq a headache)

slight humor, idiots in love, mutual pining, misunderstanding, you tease him w/o realizing (n he gets back at u hehe), reader is a stellaron hunter, stellaron hunters wingwomen!!!, art by @/kkuekkue on x. reblogs are appreciated! please enjoy <3

wc: 4.2k // hm secret santa? HOHOHO @mikashisus, rayray!! u might pull ur hair out at some parts idk :joy: happy reading n merry christmas my little elf xx

"i think i like you."

the words leave your mouth quicker than your brain can second-guess them. 

blade freezes mid-step, his back visibly stiffening. when he turns to face you, his sharp, cold eyes betray a fleeting glimmer of surprise, perhaps, or confusion —but it disappears as quickly as it came.

he stares at you, his eyes widening just slightly, the faintest crack in his carefully maintained composure.

but then, his lips part, and all he gives you is a single, flat response.

"i see."

two short, dismissive words. not a smile, not a frown —just two clipped words. you tilt your head, expecting some form of elaboration, but instead he just turns on his heel, his coat swishing behind him as he starts to walk away.

(what you don’t see is the way his hands curl into fists as he walks off, how his steps falter just around the corner, or the way he presses a hand against his chest to steady the sudden, overwhelming ache blooming there.)

…must this guy really be so blunt?!?!!

you sigh, a little laugh escaping despite your current situation. of all the possible responses you could’ve imagined, ‘i see’ definitely wasn’t one of them. you shake your head, a part of you wonders if elio is watching, silently laughing at your predicament right now.

it’s fine. really. you should’ve known better than to think he’d say anything different.

though the big problem now is, blade knows about your silly crush on him, so facing him in the future is going to be a total nightmare that you’re not ready to accept. you can already feel the embarrassment creeping up like it’s going to suffocate you.

“where's [name]?” 

blade steps into the base. silver wolf, tucked in the corner, engrossed in her console, raises a hand in greeting without looking up. blade nods in acknowledgment, before replying to kafka, "i went ahead of them," his voice sounds a little more strained than usual, before quickly turning to make a beeline for his room.

but kafka, ever perceptive, senses something’s off. she tilts her head with a smirk, "bladie, did something happen?"

he denies it with a quick shake of his head before slipping past her. having no other option, she resorts to… unconventional methods. 

with a flick of her wrist and a soft, almost melodic whisper, she purrs, "listen to me.”

the moment those familiar words hit his ears, a wave of calm washes over him, and against his will, he halts mid-step. "now tell me what happened, will you?"

he sighs and he rubs the back of his neck. “take your time, bladie.” after a long pause he speaks again, "[name] said they... they liked me."

kafka watches him closely, a grin slowly spreading across her face. "and then what happened, hmm?" she teases.

out of the corner of his eyes, he sees silver wolf perk up at his words, but he pays her no mind as his thoughts are too tangled in what he’s about to say next, the words barely scraping past his throat.

...

the next hour consists of him being ‘lectured’ by his fellow coworkers.

he tries to tune out the barrage of teasing, but something about  “bladie, that's not how you reciprocate,” to “ain’t no way bro fumbled that badly,” managed to stick with him, unfortunately. (he looks over to firefly standing to the side, but she only giggles and shakes her head at him.)

but really, how was he supposed to tell them that he panicked? that he was so stunned by your confession, so overwhelmed, that he could barely form a coherent sentence? that his awkward, dismissive reply wasn’t rejection, but a pathetic attempt to mask his own vulnerability?

the thought of you avoiding him, of thinking he doesn’t care, makes his chest ache with a pain he hadn't experienced for the past few centuries. 

blade makes a mental note to find you as soon as possible. he doesn’t know how to explain himself, not entirely; words have never been his strong suit, but somehow, some way, he’ll make it up to you.

later, you return to the base, your steps hesitant as you walk in. the moment you enter, the group falls silent, all eyes snapping to you. there’s an awkward stillness in the air, like they were caught in the middle of something. your gaze sweeps over the room, and it lands on blade. when you lock eyes with him, a flush creeps up your neck, and you quickly avert your gaze.

"excuse me!" you blurt out and almost sprint to your room.

...do they all know?! this has to be the most embarrassing day of your life.

you agreed to meet kafka at a bar near your current mission to discuss your next task. the magenta haired woman had mentioned it casually when you’d asked, cryptic as usual, only revealing that the task was important but leaving out certain key details —such as conveniently leaving out the part about blade being there too, of course.

(“bladie,” kafka’s voice took on a singsong lilt, her playful smile unmistakable as she glanced at him. “you’re going to use this chance to make it up to them, ‘kay?” 

blade only kept his eyes trained on the entrance, silently waiting for you to arrive.)

running late, your prior mission having dragged on longer than expected, you found yourself hurrying to the bar, weaving through the sparse but lingering foot traffic of the evening.

after what feels like hours, you finally make it to the bar. stepping in, your eyes scan the room for kafka, when suddenly, a man steps right into your path.

the man smiles warmly, though you could tell he’s had a few to drink tonight. his tone is friendly, with just a hint of flirtation as he strikes up a conversation, casually asking if you’d be interested in grabbing a drink sometime.

he’s polite, respectful even, and there’s nothing about him that feels overly forward or aggressive —just a man who’s trying his luck, that’s all. still, you can't help but feel a slight annoyance at the timing.

as you try to figure out a way to decline his invitation, you remain oblivious to blade’s gaze —specifically, how it's fixed on you, or rather, more pointedly on the back of the man’s neck.

“you’re going to snap his neck if you keep looking at him like that.” kafka’s voice cuts through the tension, her tone teasing as she watches the exchange from the side.

“i don’t like what he’s doing,” blade mutters, his voice low and filled with an edge that suggests far more than just mild annoyance.

kafka chuckles softly to herself, already knowing where this is headed. it’s not an outright confession of jealousy, of course —he would never admit to something as petty as that, and she knows better than to push him on this one. 

nevertheless, she still catches it, her lips curling into a knowing smile. even if blade would never call it jealousy, it’s enough to push him into doing something completely out of character —something he’ll never, ever do (until now).

kafka notices immediately. her eyes widen just a fraction before she sets down her wine glass with a graceful motion, amusement dancing in her eyes. and perhaps to make sure he doesn’t look too foolish, she decides to play along and help him act the part.

a sharp clang of glass hitting the table catches your attention. your brows knit in confusion; you glance over instinctively, your eyes meeting kafka's for a brief moment. her expression is unreadable, but the faint curve of her lips makes you wonder what’s really going on.

curiosity pulls your gaze lower, to the drunk figure slumped over at her table, seemingly drunk, his head resting heavily on his arm. the spilled drink pools on the floor beside him, glinting under the dim light. 

at first, you only catch a glimpse of dark, tousled hair, streaked faintly with deep crimson at the ends —so strikingly familiar it makes you pause. then, as your eyes trace over the sharp line of his jaw and the stiff set of his shoulders, realisation dawns on you. 

wait a second.

your jaw nearly drops as you piece it together. the man lying there, seemingly drunk out of his mind, is none other than the last person you would want to see right now.

blade.

your gaze darts between him and the polite man still standing awkwardly in front of you. blade, on the other hand, never lets his guard down, so this... state of his? unprecedented. 

apologetically, you offer a small smile to the man before rushing to blade’s side, urgency in every step as you push past the tables, heart hammering in your chest.

blade’s eyes subtly flicker over to you as you approach, and you can almost sense the slightest shift in his demeanor, the thought of you giving your time to someone else, especially someone so... ineffectual —grates at him.

he swallows the ugly feeling down his throat. perhaps he’s let this irked him more than it should. but it’s too late to back out now that you’re standing right beside him, the weight of your presence making the tension in his chest only more pronounced.

as if on cue, kafka’s voice breaks the silence, “as you can see, [name], our dear bladie here has gotten himself a bit... roughed up,” she says, casually catching the wine glass that had been teetering on the edge of the table.

her lips curl into a playful smile as she glances at blade, whose jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “drinking doesn’t seem to suit him, wouldn’t you agree?” kafka continues, her tone light but unmistakably amused. her eyes flicker between the two of you, as if she’s thoroughly enjoying the situation unraveling before her far more than she should.

you blink, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected scene. your worry only deepens as you shift your attention back to blade, who remains uncharacteristically silent, his head now resting on his arm as though he really had overindulged. 

“blade,” you say softly, your voice carrying just the slightest edge of concern. “what happened?” 

before he can answer —or before he’s forced to lie —kafka chuckles, waving a hand as if to dismiss your worry. 

“oh, nothing serious. he just got a little too carried away with his drink.” she leans back in her chair, a sly glint in her eye that you’re too preoccupied to notice. your gaze falls back to blade, his hair slightly tousled.

without thinking, you reach out, gently brushing a strand strand from his forehead. his eyes flutter open at the contact —those striking, sharp eyes you’ve always found yourself drawn to, dark yet you can’t bring yourself to look away from. 

you notice the faint redness creeping across his cheeks and the line of his jaw, down to his neck. his skin hot to the touch under your fingers. “you’re warm,” you murmur softly, assuming the alcohol is to blame.

if only you knew the warmth searing through him has nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with you. 

“ah,” kafka hums, pulling you out of your thoughts. “it seems something urgent has come up that needs my attention.” there’s an unmistakable glint of mischief in her eyes. “i’ll leave you two to it.”

you glance at her, startled. “wait, what about��?”

“don’t worry about it,” she interjects, already getting up from her seat. “the bill is already on my tab.” 

well, that wasn’t what you were about to ask anyway! 

a sly smile curls her lips, and she tilts her head ever so slightly. “hmm, it’s rare to see him like this. [name], you’ll take good care of him, won’t you?” her tone is light, but the underlying implication is clear, leaving you flustered as she turns on her heel, striding off, leaving the two of you alone.

blade leans heavily against you, his tall frame making it an awkward challenge to keep him upright as you guide him out of the bar. one arm is slung over your shoulder, while his other hangs haphazardly against his side.

his head is tilted forward, strands of his dark, crimson-tipped hair brushing against your cheek, and you can feel the warmth radiating from him —whether from his predicament or his proximity, you’re not sure.

you shift your grip, looping an arm around his waist for better support, and his body tenses slightly under your touch. for someone playing the part of drunk so convincingly, he’s strangely aware of your every movement, his hand tightening just faintly on your shoulder when you stumble over a crack in the pavement.

“blade,” you murmur under your breath, trying to shift his weight more evenly as you inch forward. “you’re not making this very easy, you know.”

casting a glance his way, you’re met with a low, almost lazy hum in response. his expression is nothing short of a hazy indifference, though you swear you catch a flicker of clarity in his eyes —a brief, focused intensity that seems out of place, before he looks away.

you can feel the heat of his breath against your temple as he wavers with every step. the night air is cool, but the warmth radiating from his body is undeniable, pressing against your side in a way that sends an unexpected shiver down your spine. the closeness between you feels almost intimate in a way that will surely have you screaming into your pillow later that night. 

as you continue down the empty street, blade’s mind races; this is his chance. he knows it. he should say something now, anything, to make it clear —to tell you how he feels. (and how it’s been eating at him for longer than he cares to admit.)

this is it, the moment he’s been waiting for, but all he can do is breathe in the scent of your skin and the warmth of your touch. the sensation is all too familiar, like the pounding in his chest —but this time, it’s not from the heat of battle.

just how much longer he has to deal with this utterly insufferable feeling?

it’s worse now, because as you navigate through the halls of the base, he’s beginning to wonder if this is what it means to care for someone —to be vulnerable. 

“here,” you say softly as you stop in front of the door to his room.

he doesn’t want this moment to end. 

you glance at him then, finally meeting his eyes, and the look in them knocks the breath from your lungs. they’re hazy, yes, but there's a sharpness beneath the mask of drunkenness, a quiet intensity that makes your heart beat a little faster.

you clear your throat, breaking the silence. "do you need anything else?"

"no," he answers, almost reluctantly. "i’ll be alright."

a twinge of disappointment surges through you. right… it was foolish to expect anything different. he’s already rejected you, and you can’t help but feel a bit ridiculous for thinking it would be any other way.

you stand there for a moment, the silence between you growing thicker with each passing second, before you force yourself to nod, your voice soft as you try to mask the heaviness in your chest.

“goodnight then."

just as you turn to leave, you feel a sudden pull on your hand, your wrist tugged back with surprising gentleness.

"wait," blade suddenly says, and this time, there's no mistaking the sincerity in it. "thank you.”

his bandaged hand rests over yours, and a soft breath escapes you; flustered, you open your mouth to respond, ready to brush it off.

"oh! It's no pro—"

but you’re cut off before you can finish. he raises your hand, pressing his lips to the back of your palm in a soft, lingering kiss.

"—blem..."

your voice falters slightly as a rush of warmth spreads through you. every nerve in your body seems to spark awake all at once, making you hyper-aware of the spot from where his lips brushed against your skin. you freeze, your breath caught in your throat, unable to do anything but stand there, your hand still resting in his.

then, as if nothing happened, he steps back into his room and shuts the door behind him, leaving you standing there, still processing the unexpected moment.

safe to say you got little to no sleep that night. you roll over, staring at the ceiling, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. it feels ridiculous, embarrassing even, how many times you've replayed that scene in your head every time you close your eyes.

you couldn’t help but smile to yourself like a fool. 

(“so bladie, how’d it go?” / “...”) 

you hadn’t even planned on leaving the base today, let alone stepping foot into the brightly lit chaos of an arcade, but silver wolf had insisted —no, nagged, until you caved. and somehow she’d managed to drag blade (of all people) along, her smug grin all too telling as she pushed the two of you together and skipped off to “go play some gachas”

now, you stand awkwardly by blade’s side, the flashing lights casting a colorful glow over his impassive face. it’s hard to ignore how out of place he looks, his dark coat, sunglasses, and the mask covering his lower face a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere. 

yet, somehow, he doesn’t seem to mind the sharp sounds of arcade machines beeping nor the kids screaming in excitement. he just stands there, hands in his pockets, watching you fumble with a stack of game tokens.

“you look thrilled,” you mutter, a sarcastic tone in your voice as you glance at him.  it’s strange, though —there’s something oddly endearing about the way he’s standing there, the dark lenses of his sunglasses reflecting a faint outline of your own face. you catch yourself staring for just a moment too long, wishing you could see beyond the lens, wishing you could read his eyes—

you shake the thought off, it’s all just wishful thinking.

behind the shield of his sunglasses, blade’s eyes tracked your every subtle movement, almost unconsciously. he caught the way your expression softened as you turned toward the claw machine, how your lips curved ever so slightly when your gaze settled on that… thing.

it was maddening, how effortlessly you held his focus, how even a trivial moment like this could stir something deep in him. he told himself it was nothing, but the tightening in his chest said otherwise. 

he wasn’t one to indulge in sentiment, yet something about the way you stared at that silly plush made him restless, made him want to do something about it, if only to keep that smile on your face a little longer.

would your smile grow brighter if that plush were in your hands? 

“let’s go.”

“to where…?” you asked, glancing back at him, the curiosity evident in your voice.

he didn’t answer immediately, but you felt the familiar tug at your hand once again, gentle and insistent, as his gaze slips toward the claw machine where you had been staring earlier.

it’s not hard to imagine the scene as a sweet little moment, with him focused on the claw machine, trying to win you a plush like a doting partner would. 

with a soft click, the claw tightens around the plush, and before you can react, it’s being lifted out of the pile, swinging toward the prize chute. you can't help but stare as he pulls the soft toy from the machine with a sense of quiet satisfaction.

(you pocket the rest of the tokens. guess he won’t be needing those…  for a first-timer, he sure got lucky —must be beginners' luck, huh?)

you blink, slightly impressed. “wow, you’re good at this,” you remark, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. 

without a word, he hands the plushie to you. 

you tilt your head slightly, a bit unsure. “for me...?”

“it's yours. take it." he looks to the side; suddenly thankful for the mask —if it weren't for that, you'd surely see the crimson tint creeping up his cheeks right now.

you hesitate for a second longer before reaching out to take it, your fingers brushing against his, a tingle of heat pulses through you, leaving your hand feeling strangely warm.

“th-thank you," you manage to spit out, and your eyes dart away, suddenly very aware of how close he is. surely, this isn’t good for your heart!

the twilight sky stretches wide, the clouds are heavy, and you’re looking oh so earnestly at him. his heart beats a little faster, louder now, as if his body knows exactly what he wants but refuses to let him act on it.

but then, he blinks —once, twice; snapping himself back to reality. he can feel the space between you growing smaller, your presence growing closer.

his eyelids flutter shut instinctively.

and then, the soft press of your lips against his cheek.

a soft sigh escapes him, and his eyes crack open. if you could see his expression right now, you'd catch the vulnerability that flashes in his gaze. he swears he can feel the warmth of your kiss in his very bones.

though not quite the kiss he imagined… it was something. (re: you got his hopes up)

the shock of your own actions hits you like a wave. you swallow thickly, “sorry —i'll go find silver wolf.” avoiding his gaze as you fumble with the tokens in your hand. "i… i’ll pass the extra tokens to her."

without waiting for a response, you turn and hurry off, your pulse pounding in your ears, praying that the ground would swallow you whole.

that night, you lay in bed, the plushie clutched tightly in your arms. the softness of it contrasts sharply with the rush of confusion filling your chest. 

why was he being so kind to you? after everything, after the way he rejected you just a few days ago, it made no sense. his actions felt contradictory.

you try to push the memory of the kiss out of your mind; impulsive decisions… often lead to mortifying outcomes. though when you glanced at him afterward, you could’ve sworn his ears were tinged with red, just peeking out from beneath his hair. nevermind, it’s probably your mind playing tricks on you.

blade, who’s as cold as the frost-kissed dusk, walks beside you through the lively festival, his dark coat a striking contrast to the vibrant reds and greens around you.

the faint scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider fills the air, mingling with the sound of distant carolers. he doesn’t say much, but there’s something about the way his gloved hand brushes yours, intentionally or not —that makes the chill in the air feel less biting.

you swallow, focusing on the festive stalls ahead, the decorations glittering in the night. “you don't have to stick around, you know. i can manage by myself.”

his steps slow just slightly, and he turns his head toward you, finally speaking. “you think i’d just leave you here?”

the words catch you off guard, and you fumble for a response. “i-i just meant—”

“relax.” he interrupts, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips; his hand grazing yours again. this time, his fingers linger for a moment longer, almost as if testing the waters, before retreating back into the safety of his pocket.

your cheeks flush, and you pretend to be deeply interested in a nearby stall selling hand-knit scarves. just then, his voice cuts through the festive hum. “last week… when you said you liked me,” he starts, and your breath catches.

you whirl back to face him, your heart pounding. “don’t worry about it! really, i—”

“i wasn’t rejecting you,” he says, with an unexpected gentleness in his gaze. “i like you too, [name].”

blade removes his coat, the fabric warm against the cold air as he drapes it around your shoulders, pulling you closer. you stumble, your hand instinctively pressing against his chest to catch your balance.

you look up at him, your breath quickening, as his face draws closer, his eyes locked on yours with that familiar intensity. you let your eyelids flutter shut, lips trembling, heart pounding in your chest as the space between you narrows.

but instead of the kiss you were anticipating, you feel the gentle warmth of his lips brush against your forehead.

your eyes snap open in confusion, only to meet his smirking face. oh... this asshole!

“what?" he teases, his tone deceptively casual. “you seem pretty eager,” his voice drops an octave, hand gently tilting your chin as he leans in just close enough for you to feel his breath against your skin.

you glare up at him, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. the way your lips quiver, unable to hold his gaze for long; the fact that he actually adores that flustered expression on your face... well, that’s when he realises. he’s too far gone.

what a dumbass lmfao

MASTERLIST.

[g4rvez-r3id]

The Holiday: Part One

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: You and a random woman online do a home-exchange for the holidays after a hasty breakup with your boyfriend. You’re enjoying the quaint little cottage you’re currently staying at in D.C. when all of a sudden, a strange man is knocking at your door. The man claims he’s the brother of the woman’s place you’re currently staying at and needs a place to stay for the night since he’s had far too much to drink. One thing leads to another and well… things get complicated from there.

Category: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: meet cute, reader just went through a breakup, mentions of alcohol cosumption, a lil ooc!spencer? post-prison spencer reid, spencer has a sister named caroline for the sake of the plot, spencer is a cheeky little shit, kissing, smut warnings: soft!dom spencer, titty sucking, fingering, cunnilingus, whimpering (spencer reid core), a lil dirty talk, riding, uses of ‘darling’ and ‘angel’, creampie— that should cover it!

Author’s Note: hey lovelies! so i was watching “The Holiday” the other night and it had me thinking: i could see this happening with Spencer Reid hehehe so here’s what my brain conjured up! it’s going to be following the plot of the movie but ofc things are gonna be a bit different! also, happy holidays and merry christmas! i hope y’all do like this hehe <3

It was snowing in D.C.. You’d never actually experienced snow before, considering you actually lived in L.A., where the sun was shining 24/7. It was a big leap from the weather in California, that was for sure.

But you didn’t mind. Mid-December, you expected the weather to be the way it was now, snowing and icy. And you pretty much liked it. You felt more at home out here than you did back in L.A.. And the more you thought about it, what did you really have back at home anyway?

You’d just broken up with your long-time boyfriend, who cheated on you with his assistant. And after verbally admitting to it and fighting with him about it, you’d kicked him out. (As you rightfully should). But after the interaction with him, you’d realized he was right about one thing. That one thing being that you always buried yourself in your work. And it’s not like it was easy not to get out of it, you were a writer, for God’s sake. You loved writing more than anything in the world, more than him. And he had an issue with that.

So, in spite of that, you’d decided that you needed a Christmas vacation. And you’d tried one of those home swap websites to find a place you could temporarily stay in for the holidays. And you’d found one belonging to a Caroline Reid.

You’d talked with her a little bit before deciding to agree to the home swap. You’d discovered she’d had a brother who also lived in D.C. and that he’d possibly pop in every now and again to see how things were going. Something about how he worked for the government and that he’d wanted to be sure that you were who you said you were and not some weird 40 year-old guy who stole underwear. You’d found out he was older and he was very protective of his sister and of course, you understood that. You almost wished you had a brother that was like that, but your apartment was in a gated community and it was pretty open. You’d also had an alarm system, knowing who was coming in and out of your community at all times.

So, you’d agree to the home swap for two weeks. Starting from the 16th of December to the 30th of December. The flight from L.A. to D.C. wasn’t long and you’d found the place alright.

A tiny cottage home that smelt of lavender and sea salt. The fireplace, looking as if it’s been used thoroughly, it’d felt oddly like home. Or at least a home you’d wanted growing up. You’d always been in L.A., never opting to go anywhere but home and this change was seemingly nice compared to your studio apartment in L.A., you suddenly felt bad for Caroline, having to leave such a beautiful home to gather at a studio apartment in L.A..

You’d taken a few days to get used to your surroundings, only leaving the cottage to go to the store and buy your snacks and sparkling cider for the night (since you hated wine). You only planned for night-in, watching whatever TV show was playing for the night. Eventually, you’d fallen asleep watching a re-run of The Nanny, cuddling up in a fetal position with the blanket you’d bought from home.

You were woken with a startle as you heard a banging on the door and you stood up quickly, looking around for anything in the room you could use as a weapon and opted for the giant book on the floor that could easily smack someone in the face and knock them unconscious if need be.

You walked down the stairs of the cottage and heard a voice outside followed by the banging. “Caroline? Caroline! Are you home?” The voice asked and you furrowed your brows and stupidly asked — “Who is it?” You dumbass! You’re not supposed to reveal that you’re home to the intruder! Unless that’s what the intruder wanted, you really need to stop listening to true crime podcasts.

“It’s me! Open the door!” The voice responded and you were beyond confused. “Hurry up! It's freezing.”

You hadn’t recognized the stranger’s voice and yet you continued to shoot yourself in the foot as you had asked again — “Who are you?”

“Caroline, open the door or I swear I'm gonna end up urinating all over your front porch—" You gasp, tossing the book on the couch and without even thinking, you open the door and in front of you is stood a tall man.

His chocolate brown hair pushed out from his neck, his stubble perfectly framed his face and his sharp jawline that looked like it could cut through glass. His perfectly plump, pink lips apart as he looks right at you, his hazel eyes gazing right at you in surprise. And all you can do is stare right back. He was dressed in a long black coat, black slacks and black loafers and a purple scarf around his neck to top it all off. He was kinda dressed as a professor now that you really looked at him, kinda looked like one too, the way he presented himself five seconds standing in the doorway.

And here you were, in patterned pajama bottoms, a white top and a grey cardigan, completely underdressed.

“Oh,” The man spoke. “You're not Caroline.” He turns towards you and crooks a small smile. “Or if you are, I'm much drunker than I realized. I'm so sorry. I-I wasn't expecting you.” His gaze never leaves your eyes as he backs away from the door for a moment.

“Well, I wasn't expecting you, either…” You trail off, not knowing what to call him. She’d probably settle for that attractive guy who used “urinating” instead of “taking a leak” on the front porch.

His eyes widen as he holds his hand out, “Oh, sorry! Uh, I’m… I’m Spencer Reid,” You take his hands going to shake his back. You can’t help but glance down at his hand, the veins on the back of it, making you gulp for a second. “Caroline’s brother.” He stated.

“Oh! Right!” You exclaim, totally forgetting that Caroline had informed you of her brother probably popping in every once in a while. She just didn’t happen to mention that he was hot! “I’m Y/n L/n, your sister informed me you’d be popping in sometimes.”

The man you now know as Spencer snaps his fingers and nods, “Yeah, forgive me, I’ve had a… bit too much to drink so it slipped my mind that she wouldn’t be here. My apologies. But do you mind if I… use the restroom?”

You flinch and back up so he can walk in the house, “Oh, of course! Come on in.” You probably shouldn’t have let him in. He could be a killer for all you know. It was something about him that just seemed… welcoming in a way.

He’d quickly gone into the bathroom downstairs and you’d spent a good minute fixing your hair to your liking so you could present yourself in a way. It wasn’t everyday a cute guy walked into your home (for the week at least), you wanted to at least look a little good.

“So, from what my sister has told me so far, she’s staying in L.A.?” He asks after he exits the bathroom and into the living room, where you find yourself doing anything but looking at him. “Yes, she’s staying at my studio apartment there. She, uh, listed this cottage on a home exchange website and I found it. We switched houses for two weeks for the holiday. So, I’m here and she’s… there.”

Spencer hums, “People actually do that?” You shrug in response, “Apparently.” Spencer looks at you and thinks to himself, “I just… I’m sorry, I told my sister that it could possibly be dangerous for her to do that and yet she’s just too stubborn. She’s like our mother in that way, it seems.” You nod at him, not knowing what to say to that.

There’s a brief silence before Spencer motions towards the couch. “I’m sorry, would you mind if I sat down? I, uh, was out tonight with my colleagues and I… I guess I’m feeling just a bit dizzy.” He tells.

“Oh, of course, go right ahead.” You tell and he plops on the couch and sits up, looking at you. “Also, again, I'm sorry about the intrusion. Although right now, I may not appear it, I am, in fact, Caroline’s respectable older brother. But on the rare — or I guess, lately not so rare — occasion that I frequent the O’Keefe’s and get inordinately drunk, my little sister puts up with me so I don't get behind the wheel.” He explains and you nod in understanding. “It’s a pathetic explanation, but, unfortunately, it's become a bit of a routine, really. I swear, I’m not usually like this but… yeah. Like I said, it slipped my mind that you’d be here instead of you, so… I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

You shake your head, crossing your arms. “Oh, no, you’re all good. I was just, uh, having my own little… girl’s night. I'm, um, not quite myself right now. I-I came here on a stupid whim, really.” Spencer nods at you as the silence fills the air once more.

“Oh, sorry, I’m a terrible host. Would you like something to drink? Glass of water? Tea? Sparkling cider, maybe?” You ask. “Uh, sure.” He nods and you nod back at him, going to the pantry to grab two glasses and fill the cups up with sparkling cider.

You walk back into the living room and hand him his cup, your pointer finger connecting to his for a split moment. “So, Y/n, is it?” He asks and you nod, “Yes, that’s me.”

He mumbled your name under his breath, seemingly like the way he said it. And you did, too. “So, Y/n, I assume you’re not married?” He asks and you furrow your brows — “Why? Do I look not married?” You chuckle awkwardly, wondering where this was going.

“No, it’s just…” He sits up more as he takes a sip of the sparkling cider. “I don’t know if my sister told you but I’m a profiler for the FBI and that means that I study human behavior and one thing I noticed about yours is that you seem to carry yourself pretty well so far. Your body language tensed and you got defensive when I assumed you weren’t married so I assume that’s a factor into your relationships and you don’t trust people often. But you let me in when I could’ve been a total stranger that’s lying to you, so I may be off my A-game here. It may also be the fact that your pupils dilated when you looked at me and you’re curling in on yourself, meaning you may find me attractive.” Your cheeks heat up and your eyes widen at that. Damn, he was good. “And that’s totally okay, I don’t know what you may see in me, but I’m flattered. And you’re also not wearing a wedding ring, but… by the fact that you said you’re not quite yourself at the moment and that you cowered and looked away for a second when you said that, I’m also assuming that you just got out of a relationship. Am I correct?”

You simply blink, completely dumbfounded at his whole “profiler” thing. You can’t help but stare and clear your throat and he can tell you’re uncomfortable with it. He shakes his head and shuts his eyes as if he’s in pain. But mostly he’s cringing because of what he said. “I’m sorry, I… I do this a lot. I just… ramble and ramble and ramble. I’m trying to be better at it, honest.”

You shake your head and shrug, “No, it’s okay.” You look at him. “You’re actually very spot on. Uh, I just broke up with someone. Before I left.” He nods at this. “He… cheated and well, my guard is back up. I came here to maybe… I don’t know, get a change of scenery for once? But now I’m realizing that I actually have no idea what I’m doing and well, I guess I just… feel alone in a way.” You realize you’ve just rambled about yourself and shake your head as he gawks at you and you chuckle it off, “Bet you're glad you knocked on this door.”

Spencer looks up at you, not laughing along with you but instead speaking softly, “I am, actually.” The way he said it made it seem like he actually meant it. You stare at him before looking down at your hands, playing with the loose thread on the ends of your cardigan.

“So,” Spencer spoke again. “Would it be alright if I stay? I'll be gone before you even wake up. I promise you will never lay eyes on me again. It might suck for you now that I think about it, considering you find me attractive.” He told and the heat rushes to your cheeks again.

“Okay, one: I do not find you attractive—” He interrupts you. “Funny how I brought it up before you didn’t deny this.”

“And two,” You continue. “It’s okay if you stay. I actually prefer it now that I know you’re not someone who wants to murder me.” Spencer nods at you, “Technically, you’re more likely to be murdered by someone you know so considering you’re not home at the moment, you’re safe.” He tightens his lips as he looks up at you.

You narrow your eyes at the man and study him, “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a strange man?” Spencer thinks about it for a moment, “A lot, actually, yeah.” You purse your lips in a smile and catch yourself gazing at his hands again as he places the glass cup back on the table.

“Uh, let me get you a blanket.” You offer and suddenly you feel like an idiot because you don’t even know where the extra blankets are. And judging by your face, Reid can tell you don’t know where they are either. “Oh, uh, in the cupboard on the left.” He tells and you nod at him, going towards the cupboard you see surely enough on the left and of course, there are blankets inside. He’s probably been there often to know where the blankets are. Of course, he does, he’s Caroline’s hot older brother.

You walk back in the living room and see that he’s standing and he’s holding his hand out to grab the blanket from you. Somehow, you must’ve lost your footing because you ended up tripping over the carpet and into Spencer’s arms. “Here you go— whoa!”

You were lucky that he acted quick, otherwise you would’ve landed on your face but instead you landed on the plush of his chest. “Whoa! You okay?” He asks softly and you look up at him, considering he’s way taller than you. He gazed into your eyes and you his and you could see up closer that his eyes had a little green in them.

The way he held you in his arms for a moment, like you would break if he gripped your arms harder. You weren’t sure if you ever wanted to escape from his grasp. And without even thinking, he leaned closer and pecked your lips. The kiss was soft, simple, like he almost didn’t mean to do it.

Spencer closed his eyes as he winced, realizing that he shouldn’t have done that — but God, you wanted him to do that again. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Uh, good night.”

He begins to slug back to the couch but you grab him by his bicep. He may look a little lanky but his bicep is strong and firm. What you would do to get him to hold you in his arms and just— whoa. Don’t get there, brain.

You suddenly find yourself speaking and chuckling awkwardly as you loosen your grip on his arm a bit. “Do you think you could...” You close your eyes and correct yourself. “Would you mind, um, trying that again?”

Without another word, Spencer tries again and this time, he lingers and the kiss spurs off fireworks in your head. He pulls away and all you want to do is dig your fingers in his messy mane and never let your lips leaves his until it becomes a chore to breathe.

But you frown for a moment and find yourself pondering. What the hell are you doing? Spencer seems to notice this and tilts his head to meet your eyes.

“Bad?” He asks. “Weird.” You correct and chuckle to yourself once more, “Kissing a total stranger.”

“Really?” Spencer asks. “I do it all the time.” You look at him. Of course he’s experienced in this. I mean, look at him!

“Here, let me try.” You take a deep breath and kiss his lips and halfway through the kiss, you realize your eyes are open the entire time. It’s probably because of the fact that you didn’t want to miss a second of it. And honestly, who could blame you?

Spencer backs away after the kiss and you scrunch your eyebrows together as you realize that was kind of an awkward kiss. “Maybe if I closed my eyes.” You say and Spencer nods, “That’d probably be best.”

You do so, close your eyes that is and Spencer looks over your features and decides to try something himself. Carefully, he places his oddly cold hands around your cheeks and leans in, ghosting his lips over yours as he breathes into your face and you feel his lips kiss your cheek and the area near your nose and suddenly, you feel warmth way below as he finally kisses you on the lips.

His cold hands contrasted with your warm cheeks and you feel shaken with pleasure and you look deep into his eyes once you open yours and he already watching you.

“You know, given that I'm in a bit of a personal crisis and I find myself in a total stranger's home and also considering that you showed up and you're, like, insanely good-looking and you probably remember me anyway, I'm thinking… we should have sex.” You offer and his eyes widen at your forwardness.

You’re not usually like this. You’re never this forward and you’d never suggest this to a total stranger but there was something he inhabited that you just found sexy. And you wouldn’t care of the consequences and you didn’t really know him so you didn’t need to date him to secure your needs, you just needed a release from the stress you’d been under the past few days. Dealing with publishers for your newest book, scheduling interviews among interviews, the whole thing that happened with your now ex-boyfriend. This could be good and it’s not like you’re entirely desperate. All you really need is something.

“If-If you want,” You clarify, hoping to God you didn’t just freak this man out into not staying at his sister’s place for the night. “Just say the word, I can go lock myself back up in my room for the night and we can pretend this never happened.”

Spencer chuckles to himself and he looks at you as he quirks an eyebrow upwards, “Is that a trick question?” He asks. But you look at him, dead in the face and he can already tell you’re being serious about this.

“No, I'm being honest. And not that this matters, but I've never said anything like that in my entire life before.” You tell. “It's just that this whole knowing that I'll never see you again thing is kind of exciting. I mean, this is what a vacation's supposed to be, right? You're supposed to vacate your life, do the unexpected, and you are definitely unexpected.”

Spencer smiles a bit as he shakes his head, “You’re making me feel cheap here.” He said and you laugh along with him once you realize he found it funny. You pull a strand of hair behind your ear as you add on, “You're funny, which is also like a bonus. In my book.”

Spencer leans forward, wanting to kiss you once more but you push on his chest a bit as you add, “Are you sure you’re going to be stable enough for this? I know you said you’d had a couple of drinks tonight.” Spencer smiles a bit, admiring your chivalry and not wanting to take advantage of him when all he wants to do is take advantage of you. He also finds it sweet, not wanting to do it when he’s vulnerable but he’d only had two drinks tonight and well, he can be a lightweight sometimes.

“Trust me, angel, I sobered up as soon as I saw you.” He spoke and your heart skipped a beat when you heard him say ‘angel’. Your cheeks are probably heating up again.

You smile and he leans in, kissing you once more. But you push him away once more and start talking once more. “Oh, also, I should warn you.” He looks at you in wonderment. “I’m… I'm not very good at this.”

He furrows his brows as he asks, “This being?” You look at him and blurt out — “Sex.”

Spencer scoffs as he looks at you up and down. “Okay, now that cannot be true. Who told you that?” He asks.

“The guy that I was dating, uh, mentioned it once or twice and a girl does not forget a comment like that.” Spencer leans forward to kiss you again, possibly just to shut you up but it really doesn’t work because you back away and continue, “I mean, how bad could I be? I mean, sex is pretty basic, right?” You look his way and scrunch your nose together, “Have I talked you out of this yet?”

He shakes his head endearingly and gazes at you. He must think you’re a mess, that he couldn’t possibly sleep with you because you were just “too much”. You’d been told that your whole life. But internally, he finds it oddly assuring that he’s not the only rambler here. He actually kind of like it. It’s not something he’s used to from someone else, mostly because he’s always the rambler.

“Strangely, not at all,” Spencer answers and then looks down for a moment. “Let me ask you this,” He licks his lips. “How do you feel about foreplay?”

Your heart stops and suddenly you’re looking anywhere but him now and you shake your head, “Uh…” You don’t really know how to respond to that.

His eyes widen, “Have you… not—?” You shrug, “I have, it’s just…” You pause. “It wasn’t great. The guy I was with… he didn’t like doing it and well, I’ve spared myself from dealing with that because most guys don’t know what the hell they’re doing down there half the time so… I guess I just… haven’t done it.”

Spencer’s lips part and he’s shocked at the discovery. He’s in complete shock of the fact that you’ve never really done it with a guy that knew what he was doing. It was completely baffling to him. Who wouldn’t want to? You were gorgeous and from what he gathered in the short time, you were also amazing. And by the way you made yourself feel small, somebody else did that to you. And his heart broke for you.

“That guy that you were with?” Spencer began. “I think he’s a real loser because a real man would like that.” You find your cheeks heating up again. “Y/n, you are quickly becoming one of the most interesting girls I've ever met.”

You smirk as you finalize your decision and stand up, sultry walking towards the stairs and looking back at him and find that his gaze has gone towards your ass. “Look at you,” He smirks, a mischievous glint in his eye as he narrows his orbs at you. “You're already better than you think.”

With that, he stands, following you to your room and as soon as you close the door, he’s on you. His lips capture yours and you moan as his hand makes its’ way down your stomach and then in between your thighs.

You whimper in his mouth as he sticks his hand in your pajama bottoms and through the waistband of your underwear as he rubs the point where you need him the most. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you staring at my hands earlier.” He says into your neck and your eyes roll to back of your head.

“Spencer…” You moan into the air and his lips are all over your neck as he then picks you up and lays you down gently on the bed, like you were fragile and needed to be handled with care.

His lips travel from your neck to your chest as he opens up your cardigan and reveals your breasts covered by your top. His eyes nearly pop out of his head when he realizes that you’re not wearing a bra. He pulls your top down and exposes your boobs — to which he fondles one of them and begins to suck on your nipple. His hand travels farther as he sticks a finger inside your hole as you gasp out — “Oh, my God!”

The stimulation, plus the fact that he’s sucking on your boob right now makes you want to cum. “I want you to cum like this for me, please.” You’d do anything for him so you will your body to give in and to release.

You feel your core throb as you came hard around his fingers and whine as he pulls his fingers out. He sucks on your juice off his slender fingers and you stare at him, like he’s an angel of sorts. He is an angel. And how you wish he could be your angel.

“You okay, sweet girl?” He asks softly and all you can do is nod at him. “We can stop here if you want to.” You shake your head, pulling him by his crooked tie and say — “Oh, darling, we are just getting started.”

With a smile, he kisses you once more and you both begin to take off each other’s clothes. You help him take off his dress shirt and slacks as he helps you out of your cardigan, top and pajama bottoms. Suddenly, you’re both naked in the bed and he turns his gaze down to your dripping pussy.

He looks at you with lust-filled eyes and asks, “May I?” You just nod but that’s not enough for him. “I need words.” You nod again but this time you add a meek — “Yes.”

He smiles as he gazes down. “I’m gonna take good care of you, sweet girl.” You watch as he slowly goes down and his hot breath fans over your pussy lips before he dives in for a kitten lick. You shudder and he quickly notices this with a sly chuckle, “You’re shaking. And I’ve hardly touched you.”

You moan, not wanting him to draw this out any longer than you want him to and he smiles, he could tell you want this. He could tell you need this. And goddamn it, he’s gonna prove to you that you’ve gone too far without this and you’re not going to keep going long without it so long as he could help it.

His mouth wraps around your clit, drawing figure-8s with your tongue and suck as he does so. You find yourself gripping the sheets hard as he continues to go down on you. “Fuck,” You deliciously mutters into your pussy. “You’re so sweet,” He drawls. “Your ex is a fucking loser if he thinks that this is a waste of time because darling, you are exquisite.”

You feel every moan into your pussy he’s making as you look down at the sight and your eyes connect to his and all of a sudden, you’re cumming once more. You shake in his hold as you close your eyes in pleasure as he stays in your sweet nectar until you’re done.

He looks up at you, as if he’s mesmerized by the sight itself of you releasing. You look back down at him and see his eyes, still blown with lust and reach down to run your fingers through his hair. By the doozy look in your eyes, he can tell you really enjoyed that. “Did I do okay?” He asks with a small smile and you chuckle as you look towards the ceiling. “That was…” You take a sharp breath. “Wow.”

Spencer laughs a bit as he climbs up your body and leans over you. “There’s plenty more where that came from.” And that’s when you turn your body around so that you’re over him now. “Oh, trust me. There is.”

You maintain eye contact with Spencer pump a few strokes on his cock before settling his head towards your entrance. “And you’re still okay with this?” You ask, a whiny tone sheltering your voice and Spencer swears he might cum on the spot just with you doing that. “Oh, I’m very okay with it.”

“Yeah?” You look down but only for a moment to guide himself into you and you rest your hands on his shoulders as you sink down into him. He throws his head back in pleasure as you finally feel all of him and you feel so full.

His cock throbs in your wet pussy and he gasps out — “Oh, you feel so fucking… perfect, angel.” You bite your lip to hold back your moans as you begin to move yourself up and down on him, rocking your hips to you liking and his hands rest on your thighs, gripping them tightly, holding you up against him.

“How do you feel, angel?”

“So f-full.”

“That ex-boyfriend wouldn’t know what to do with a perfect pussy like yours.”

His forwardness made your eyes roll to the back of your head as he began to thrust hard into you with his cock.

“Where do you want it, angel?” He grunts and you know that it’d be too intimate, to have him mark you, claim your body, paint your insides with his cum but you’d been so far gone, you basically begged him to cum — “In-Inside.”

“Oh, you want it inside?” Spencer asks and you nod, biting your lip hard. “You want me to breed you? To claim you? Because I will.” His words send you over the edge as you work yourself on his cock even harder. “Cum for me, darling. Please.” A whine escapes his lips and you finally feel a coil snap inside of you as you cum for the third time tonight on his cock.

You feel a warmth inside as he paints your insides and you collapse again his body as you both pant. He feels your hot breath on his neck as he holds you close to him, his hand sprawled out on your back as he rubs your flesh, as if he’s somehow calming you down from your high.

Your eyes are closed but you feel as Spencer carefully pulls out of you (and he watches as his cum drips from your pussy and he’s mesmerized by the sight of it) and sets you down next to him, holding you to his chest and keeping you there. You feel his heart rate beginning to slow as you rest your head on his chest.

“Wow,” You start. “That was…” You take a deep breath. “Exciting.”

Spencer looks down at you and he furrows his brows, “I gave you three orgasms and that was just… exciting?” You can hear the smirk in his voice and you look up at him, “Okay, it was…” You ponder on a word. “Spectacular… hot… sexy.”

“Spec-hot-exy,” You form a word. “Is that good enough for you?” He shakes his head at you as he chuckles. “Are you okay?” He asks and you nod, “Yeah, I’m perfect.”

“Okay,” He says, sitting up. “Don’t get too comfortable because you do need to pee and we do need to clean you up. I just had sex in my sister’s bed and I know she’s gonna kill me for it.” He helps you up, steadying you as he walks you towards the bathroom and cleans you up.

And as he does so, you stare. And you just keep staring because even though this was a one-night thing, you can’t help but wonder what it may be like to actually be with him. Would he still be this gentle? Would he still be this caring? Because this would be enough to make a girl fall in love. And if Cupid heard your thoughts, he’d shoot another arrow just to make you even more head over heels than you are now. But you shouldn’t be thinking what you’re thinking, not at all. You just broke up with someone for Christ’s sake. But it didn’t mean you couldn’t have a little fun while you were still in D.C..

After the holidays, you could go about your life, forgetting who this man was and just remembering him as the guy that just appeared at your doorstep and wowed you into sleeping with him. You were never gonna see him again, why not have a little fun while you were here?

You weren’t sure if this would end with anyone getting hurt, but all you knew is that you’d take advantage of the time you’d have, here and now.

[violenteconomics]

for trey clover, it starts like this:

deuce spade loves egg tarts.

he’s never outright said so, but when you’ve been baking for the better part of 18 years, you learn to pick up on things like that. it’s no different from figuring out that cater doesn’t like sweets, or the exact kind of chocolate his little brother prefers, or even what kind of tart he should make for the next unbirthday party — because, well, they can’t have strawberry tarts all the time.

and considering how much deuce loves anything egg-related, it stands to reason he’d appreciate a well-made egg tart. and, well, deuce had seemed a little blue lately (no pun intended), so trey figured he’d do a little something nice for him.

he’s already in the kitchen, plastic gloves already covered in custard, when deuce comes stumbling in.

“hi, trey,” deuce greets simply as he went to open the fridge, “do we have any strawberries?”

trey shrugged apologetically. “used up my last batch last week. i’m growing some more right now, but you’ll have to wait a bit on that.”

“i guess i’ll go buy some blueberries from sam, then.” deuce sighs. “i was really hoping to save my money for that new spelldrive magazine subscription, too…”

“why do you even need strawberries?” trey raises an eyebrow. “you don’t even like strawberries that much.”

“i read somewhere that they were good for the brain.” he explains morosely. “and, y’know, there’s this big test coming up in potionology…”

trey chuckles as he goes back to chopping off slices of butter. “no, no, i get it. one of my roommates used to stock up on ‘lucky underwear’ for every big test back when i was a freshmen.” he pauses, then says, “but y’know what else is good brain food?”

deuce turns to look at him curiously. “what?”

trey gentle picks up one of the eggs from the carton and wobbles it around playfully. “eggs! i’m making egg tarts right now. i should be done by dinnertime if you want one later.”

deuce’s eyes light up, shoulders hiking, a smile threatening to form on his face with that familiar joy and whimsy…

…but it dies almost immediately.

he shakes his head, putting a hand to his temple. “sorry, trey,” he mumbles, “maybe tomorrow. i’ve got too much on my mind right now.”

and that is not what trey was expecting at all.

“i…” he blinks. “are you sure?”

“i’m sure.” deuce says, not sounding sure at all. he casts a forlorn glance over to trey, before he walks right back out the entryway he came in. “see you at dinner, then.”

(riddle rosehearts loves strawberry tarts.

in all the years trey has known him, even after all they’ve been together, riddle’s only ever rejected a strawberry tart once.

it was riddle’s seventeenth birthday, and his mother had decided to give him a call.)

suddenly, trey feels a feeling of dreaded foreboding crawling up his spine.

I am in dire need of more of that AU that The First years get The upperclassmen toxic traits,i realy want more of It,like;

A way to include octavinelle and scarabia,maybe like,3 First years(Ace,deuce,Jack) get some of azul's toxic traits,other Three(epel,ortho and sebek) get Jamil toxic traits and yuu get both

Second thing

More reactings please,i NEED The staff,ALL The dorms and even the relatives seeing The First years developing those toxic traits,the overblots+Trey and cater for deuce getting their toxic traits right back at their face i beg you🙏🙏

anything 4 u, baby.

(but for real, though, this is an AMAZING idea, love you so much for tilling the ground for my brainwormies, mwah mwah 😘)

(also, this might get REALLY long, so hang tight!)

it was just a seed at first — a tiny idea that stuck around despite the first-years not even realizing it was there. but as the poison from their actual housewardens starts to develop into something truly deadly, so does that seed. it shows up later... but it makes itself known nevertheless.

ace, deuce, and jack have all worked for azul at the mostro lounge at one point, and though it was a very brief moment in time, it was just long enough to worm its way into their heads.

it starts with ace trappola, who's already pretty slippery with his words. but working at the mostro lounge, taking subconscious note of all the underhanded deals azul is making, he starts to pick up new... skills, let's say.

it starts small, with ace starting to give out certain favors to his fellow freshmen to earn some money. if you give him ten thaumarks, he'll do one of your everyday chores for you — dusting your room, cleaning your bathroom, making dinner, what have you. if you give him fifteen thaumarks, he'll do your homework if you don't feel like doing it, or take class notes for you if you don't feel like showing up. if you give him forty, he'll help you with something less-than-moral and definitely against the rules (he did it once back at the atlantica memorial museum — he can do it again).

there's an obvious power imbalance in all of these scenarios, but ace effortlessly words in a way that makes it seem like it's a win-win situation, when in reality, it's more like a zero-sum game.

it gets to the point where ace builds a black-market sort of reputation, and all of the freshmen know that if you need something done, ace is the person to go to.

...but then, something shifts.

at some point, ace starts a black-mailing campaign for the people who paid for the forty-thaumark favor. if you don't want your secret — one that might get you expelled, suspended, or worse — getting out, then you can pay for ace's silence with a favor or more money.

the worst part is: there's no way out. if you try attacking ace, it'll seem like you assaulted him for no reason, since if you try to explain he was blackmailing you, you'll have to tell them what he was blackmailing you with, which you obviously can't do — or else what was even the point? the same rule applies if you try tattling on him to one of the teachers or the housewardens or anybody else. and ace is a better liar than most people will ever be in their lifetime, so it's a losing battle even if you do manage to get someone to take your side.

so if you want to cross the bridge, my sweet, you've got to pay the toll.

(it's not even about the money anymore, really. riddle's thirst for control and azul's desire for recognition have clashed inside of ace in the most violent way, and now, it's all about the power it gives him over other people. and after how powerless he's felt this entire school year, being thrown left and right by overblot after overblot with no say at all, this is a power trip he never wants to come back down from.)

but ace realizes he's making quite a few enemies with his little money-making strategy, and he needs someone to help him just in case someone does come up with a plan to wipe him out. i mean, just look at azul — even with all of the loopholes and leverages in the world, even he was taken down eventually without outside help. if he wants this to last as long as possible, he needs... incentive for people to listen to him.

his own jade and floyd.

his own red-and-black collar.

using his riddle rosehearts-born dominance, and taking advantage of deuce's trey-and-cater-born passiveness, ace convinces deuce spade — one of the strongest people he knows — to help him in his economic ventures.

and deuce, seeing this as a way for ace to vent some frustration and unwilling to be on the other end of ace's ire, hesitantly agrees.

he doesn't piece together that ace is acting suspiciously like azul, but he still recognizes his own role in this whole scheme. ace is running a business, right? and deuce has only ever worked in one business before. he remembers what jade and floyd were like back when he worked under them, and so he uses that experience to inform his new position.

deuce becomes known as ace's right-hand man. he'll hunt you down if you don't pay, and he's not afraid to use force to "compel" you to. there have been stories about cat beastmen getting thrown up into trees and being left there for hours. about students getting forks "accidentally" thrown at them in the cafeteria with such precision, it doesn't really feel like an accident. about a student with a spade on his face who can throw back any attack sent his way with just as much force.

and there's nothing you can do about it, because he's in service to someone who has made himself pretty powerful. ace's silver-tongue gets deuce out of any and all trouble he inevitably finds himself in — and is ace is so brutally honest, why wouldn't people believe him? so even if you try to do something to deuce, ace has his back no matter what — and he'll win almost every time.

you mess with deuce, you mess with ace, which is already bad enough. but if you fuck around with ace, you better be prepared to find out with deuce.

they're a pair — that's always been true. but never before has that fact been so threatening.

jack howl comes next. we all know how much jack despises octavinelle's business model. but, begrudgingly, he will admit there are a lot of things he can learn from octavinelle. and more knowledge is never bad. as long as he doesn't actually use it, it should be fine.

(jack is more dangerous than ace and deuce, in a way — his toxicity is insidious in a way it just couldn't ever be with them.)

with excellent hearing, eyesight, and memory, he silently keeps note of every bribe he hears being taken. every lie he knows is being told. every mistake that gets swept under the rug. it's not long before he starts actively looking for it. it's not long before jack's uncovered dirt on almost every freshmen in school. it reminds him a bit of his time working at the mostro lounge. but instead of memorizing orders from customers, he's memorizing all their dirty secrets.

it's to protect himself, jack reasons. after all, it was only his input that put a stop to leona and ruggie's plans back during the spelldrive exhibition. he's just... preparing for another disastrous event, that's all. it's just precaution. insurance.

if it's not, then he'll have to accept that leona's overblot bothered him more than he thought. that he was weak enough to let it.

(and jack can't face that yet.)

and if, once in a while, ace comes to him looking for a little bit of information, then well, that's just lending a friend some advice. nothing wrong with that.

epel, ortho, and sebek don't have any direct ties to jamil, but they are certainly... impressionable, aren't they?

sebek zigvolt is a bit dense, certainly, but even he can see how well jamil takes care of his master. and with a master that's as ditzy and forgetful and all-over-the-place as kalim, that can't be easy. even if they are merely humans, and their experiences can't even begin to compare when it comes to serving a fae prince, sebek reckons that he can learn a thing or two by observing them. so that's exactly what he does.

one day, when kalim spills food on the floor in a hilariously ridiculous move, sebek notices something few others ever would. jamil gives the tiniest twitch of annoyance — the same way silver, in all his stoicism, often does when sebek gets too loud — but then he's back to being perfectly dutiful and polite and says "i'll go get a napkin."

it's... admirable, honestly. sebek doesn't put it into practice right away, but it stays in his mind long after he first sees it.

and then, after malleus's overblot, sebek's emotions feel like they're on fire. after being stuck in a world where it took just the tiniest crack to shatter a perfect illusion, he's wary of nearly everything that disrupts his day. now every single slight against him, no matter how unintentional it may be, feels like a personal attack on his very life. but sebek can't show these ugly emotions so outwardly — that would be dishonorable behavior that could damage malleus's reputation. instead, he resorts to subtle methods that can't be easily traced back to him like putting in frogs in schoolbags and setting brooms on fire or replacing shampoo bottles with tar.

but his repressed feelings of anger start to build to the point where he's now feeling unprecedented resentment towards... well, almost everybody.

when sebek has very first negative thought about malleus in history class — "reckless bastard" — he instantly hates himself for it and throws up then and there because how dare he.

he tries to shut them out, but the more he does, the more these intrusive thoughts start to bombard him with their uncharacteristic cynicism.

he looks at lilia from across the breakfast table, and his first thought is: heartless liar.

he spots leona lying in the botanical garden and he thinks: brainless cretin.

he even sees jamil, walking through the halls, and his mind screams: manipulative bitch.

but sebek shoves it all down because he's in no position to say that. it gets to the point where he's walking around as a silent, unfeeling husk, because to be anything else would be like inviting his inner demons to visit him on the outside. he pushes his emotions down as far as they'll go, and that's just going to have to be enough to get him through the day.

ortho shroud begins to follow a similar principle. his idia-inspired pessimism has led ortho to see others as less like people and more like characters. it's easier to think of every school day as a dungeon in an rpg. it's easier to convince himself that the other students are taunting him because they're programmed to be that way than face the reality that they just don't like him.

but the problem with seeing life as a video game is that you start seeing others as just ways to complete your objectives. like npcs or maps.

and when it comes to using people, jamil viper is king. or, for ortho's purposes, the ultimate survival guide.

ortho shapes himself into a model night raven college student — kind, charming, and sweet for the teachers, but just mischievous and rude enough to still fit in with the students.

he goes to housewarden meetings with idia to "gain leadership experience", taking notes and hearing out of every single little idea he can get his hands on (these are the people who have not just survived, but thrived. they must be doing something right). one time, riddle even pats his head and praises him for his proactiveness.

his classmates adore him for always been willing to help and being so calm about even the worst outcomes.

ortho makes himself as available as possible to the rest of ignihyde, brushing off homework or studying to help them with whatever they need — fixing game consoles, wiring in controllers, checking the internet connection, et cetera.

eventually, everyone believes in him almost as fiercely as scarabia believed in jamil, once upon a time.

ortho doesn't like telling all of these lies, but it's necessary to protect himself. it's like grinding to earn coins until you have enough money to buy that special armor in the shopkeeper's store.

...or maybe it's more like those cheesy dress-up flash games ortho used to play all the time — fleshing out the perfect outfit and hairstyle and makeup that'll earn you the most points.

if people feel like they need him, he'll be able to breeze through school without any more problems. he's put the whole system on easy mode! it feels a bit like cheating, almost.

it is like a game, isn't it? it's fun.

(at some point, ortho forgets how to stop.)

as for epel... well, he knows that his sudden snappish behavior towards the other pomefiore students won't go unnoticed for too long. but this is one of his only ways of venting, so he needs it to go under the radar long enough for him to... to squeeze out all of this sudden venom that's built up in him.

epel's not oblivious. he knows how sebek and ortho have changed over the weeks, and he knows why. but epel can't pull off "repressed" like sebek, and neither can he suddenly turn into the best person ever like ortho. but they do have the right idea about taking inspiration from jamil, so epel can fall back on what there is left: gaslighting.

every time kalim blacked out, jamil blamed it on him being sick. every time someone thought kalim was being awfully uncharacteristic, jamil called it a "mood swing". every time someone asked jamil about why kalim was acting so weird, jamil claimed ignorance.

at least, that's what yuu tells epel.

and it's perfect.

so now, every time someone confronts epel about his overly critical behavior, he lies and says he's doing it for their own good. you need pressure to make a diamond, after all. and besides — vil won't settle for anything less than absolutely perfect.

("i'm just trying to catch your mistakes before he does. and i think you and i can both agree that i'm a lot nicer than he is about it.")

every time vil confronts epel about all of the complaints he's been hearing from the other students about how epel's been tearing down their ideas for outfits and hairstyles with no mercy, and disregarding all of their achievements as "not good enough" to be proud over, epel dons a confused face.

("vil, between studying for tests and the crazy physical regiment you have me do, i barely have time for myself. you honestly think i have the energy to criticize other people?")

epel even starts turning people against each other so they won't focus on him. epel subtly threatens to take away the upperclassmen's position in the hierarchy, which sets up the other underclassmen as a threat, and epel grouses to the underclassmen that the upperclassmen look down on them for not living up to pomefiore standards, under the guise of regular teenage bitching.

but all of this, combined with their self-entitlement, leads to a mini-war in pomefiore. but since this is, well, pomefiore, where being perfect and poised is the standard, the others make sure never make it obvious in front of vil or rook.

epel plays everybody like a fiddle, and ensures that none of it can be traced back to him. it's a good way to get out his frustration. and hey — it seems like everybody's upped their game along the way. vil seems pretty happy that everybody's improving in their efforts so greatly, practically overnight!

epel wakes up with a feeling of accomplishment everyday. for once, it seems he did something right.

now if only rook could stop looking so somber...

then we come to yuu, whose inner darkness has been left to fester all year. if people think they can treat them like a ragdoll, it's only fair they do the same.

there's a lot yuu doesn't have, but one thing they're really lacking is a bit of respect. that's what it means to be magicless in an arcane academy. you're at the bottom of the food chain.

and look at what a bit of self-interest can do for you! yuu studies in the library until late into the night, burning the metaphorical candle at both ends, learning everything they can about magic until they're more well-versed in it than most students in the school. yuu starts making potions that aren't nearly as good as azul's, but they're cheap and work well enough. they start making study guides for others with their new-found knowledge, even if they do bristle with the fact that a damned study guide is what caught them in azul's tentacles in the first place. they start learning anything and everything, clinging to whatever scraps of knowledge they can write down.

with this, they successfully make their case for why they should join ace and deuce's business. eventually, they're just as feared as they are among the other first-years.

but that's not enough for yuu. the power of fear is nice, but the power of controlling other people would be much more cathartic.

so that's what they do. while ace is more focused on monetary gain, yuu uses their mountains of blackmail to convince others to do whatever they want.

if crowley throws another ridiculous task at them, yuu simply hoists it off to somebody else to do. if ramshackle dorm needs a few repairs, it's only a matter of contacting a few people before a whole construction crew paid off by somebody else comes knocking at their door. and they'll do it, if they don't want to get kicked out of the school or have their reputation ruined.

but somehow, even with all of this, yuu sets themself up as the nicest out of their little trio. they're willing to let payments slide from time to time. they listen to their clients' problems. they take constructive criticism and always seem to improve in their potions and study guides based on feedback. and if you do do yuu a favor, they'll give you certain favors right back.

so even when yuu is a covetous, greedy, all-consuming shark, the students still think they're so very, very nice. because compared to ace and deuce, what else is there to think?

but this can only go on for so long. and yuu knows that.

one day, they get called to the headmage's office. yuu is already going through their contact list — a list that's quadrupled ever since they joined forces with ace and deuce — to see who'd be willing to do them a teensy little favor for them, but when they step through the door, they pause.

inside the office are all the housewardens, their vices, the teachers, and everybody else yuu has grown to know over the past year.

yuu narrows their eyes as riddle steps forward.

"yuu," riddle starts sternly, "from one housewarden to another, i believe we need to talk."

^

(i will address everyone's reactions in a reblog, because this is honestly getting really, really long, lol. but don't worry, the reactions are coming! 🥺)

(but i should mention that there is already a good reblog of the original post by @thenumberhuntress which addresses the upperclassmen's reactions that you can find here. go read it. it's peak.)

(once again, thank you for the great ask! this was fun to make!)

[joudama]

And that’s that for Veilguard. Got all the achievements and got the four main possible endings (didn’t bother with the bad ending where you do none of the side quests, everyone dies, and you end up trapped in the Fade forever with Solas).

My four Rooks:

Female Shadow Dragon elf mage - saved Minrathous - romanced Harding - punched Solas in the face

Female Antivan Crow human rogue - saved Treviso - romanced Lucanis - tricked Solas into using the fake dagger

Male Grey Warden dwarf warrior (this was originally going be a Qunari, but I couldn’t get over the yassified look of all the qunari I tried to make and I gave up) - saved Treviso - romanced Davrin (meant to romance Bellara and lol welp, that didn’t happen) - big softie who sent Solas into the Fade with the Inquisitor

Male Mourn Watch elf mage - saved Minrathous - romanced Emmrich (meant to romance Bellara or Neve and lol welp, that didn’t happen) - told the Inquisitor she could do better and made Solas go off into the Fade alone.

My Mourn Watch one is probably going to be my “canon” run, since I liked it the best (that’s not saying much) of my runs. I went with a life leeching run for him, including using the unique items that made health potions/companion heals not work, and beefed up leeching. Literally the only time I died was when my controller ran out of juice in the middle of a dragon fight. The Elgar’nan fight was over so fast I was like, “Wait, is that it?” It was like the curb stomp fight in Inquisition with Corypheus before they let you have enemies scale up with you.

And now for my thoughts. And oh boy, do I have a lot of them. Hoo.

I have…so many issues with this game. It is a very good…whatever the gaming equivalent of a popcorn flick is. It’s great if you go in with your brain turned off and enjoy all the shiny. But that’s not what I want in a Dragon Age game. I’ve been replaying DA2 - the game that DATV is basically trying to channel - while playing these, and the difference in writing quality and intricacy of plot and world building could not be more sharp. The first time I played DATV, I thought it was fine. Almost aggressively fine. I had fun with streaming the game and seeing where it went. I loved the reveals with the wolf statues. I had some major issues with the writing being as subtle as a brick to the face at times (more on my thoughts about the dialogue LATER, because oh boy), but it was serviceable. And I genuinely thought Veilguard had been robbed by not being nominated for Art Direction at the Game Awards, because say what you will, the areas are fucking gorgeous. But, even then, I was like, “Yeah, this would not have deserved a GOTY nomination had it gotten one,” and placed it at a 7 or 8 out of 10. A good enough, enjoyable game that ran well, but was not by any means GOTY material.

Then I made the mistake of playing it again, and the cracks began to show. By the time I hit the middle of Act 2 of my third run, I was just so done. I hated every time certain companions had anything to say at all. I hated that you couldn’t call people out for being a jerk but had to be the supportive nursery school teacher at all times to them. And for the first time playing any BioWare game at all, I found myself wishing I could either not recruit certain people or kick them out of camp. The cracks were beyond showing at that point, and I no longer thought the writing was even “serviceable.” Things that hadn’t seemed so bad on that first popcorn flick run suddenly became a problem - not being able to actually talk to your companions to get to know them went from “it feels more natural to have them saying this stuff while out in the field” to “what is even the point of going around the Lighthouse if all it gets me is a line spoken at me or overhearing bits of them having ACTUAL conversations?” It legitimately hurt replayability. I missed being able to actually talk to my companions, and I realized I cared more about Manfred and Assan than most of my companions because Manfred and Assan actually seemed to like interacting with me. I will take Manfred’s rock-paper-scissors game over a “hey Rook” and dead-eyed stare.

By the time I hit late act 2, I couldn’t wait for it to be over so I could delete the damn game off my hard drive…only for the last achievement I had yet to get to NOT pop when I finished the game. I looked it up and discovered it wasn’t set by triggering a certain end state, but was tied to picking some flowers in Act 2, and wanted to cry. I don’t usually 100% games, especially if I feel like some of the achievements are bullshit I don’t want to do (‘sup, MELE needing you to do some Armax Arena Spectre-level fight - I would sooner chew off my own arm than do that, as anyone who watched me stream Veilguard would have guessed watching me kvetching the whole time I was doing that Hall of Valor shit), but that was just frustrating. I decided to try to get it on a fresh run as a Mourn Watcher, since I’d heard that was one of the surprisingly good faction backgrounds, and that was a good choice. Mourn Watch became my favorite faction, when it had been Shadow Dragons until then. It added so much to a lot more conversations than I would have thought, and made it so I actually enjoyed the sadly few times you get to actually have conversations instead of eavesdropping/being talked at. I’m glad I decided to slog through one more time for that achievement, because if I’d ended it on that third run, I know I would have never played it again. It turned back into a popcorn movie again, aided by me knowing when to put on a YouTube video and watch or scroll through Bluesky instead of listening to a certain character be the fucking worst. If I ever play again, it’ll be a Mourn Watcher (I already know the Veil Jumpers and Lords of Fortune are considered, shall we say, lackluster background factions.)

Which brings me to some of the big, fundamental problems this game had.

This is not a CRPG. It’s just not. It’s an action RPG now, with the focus on “action” not “RPG.” It’s part of the whole Mass Effect-ification of Dragon Age. And I say this as a huge Mass Effect fan:

Dragon Age should not be like Mass Effect. And vice versa.

When Andromeda came out, they decided to ditch the Paragon/Renegade system, and instead went for DAI-style emotion-based options. Which seems great! More speech choices to make a more nuanced Ryder instead of picking up or down! Great! Only no! A lot of people hated it because it didn’t feel like Mass Effect. They had taken away something that had seemed like a major part of how you roll played in the series, and replaced it something very different. It was the first time they took a mechanic from one game and ported it into another, and it didn’t really go over well with a lot of ME fans because it didn’t feel like a Mass Effect mechanic.

And now with Veilguard, they basically made a Mass Effect game with a Dragon Age skin on it. And it just doesn’t work.

Combat: They copied the combat wheel from Mass Effect, but did it kind of badly. I honestly hated it because I tried to play like I do in Mass Effect - pull it up, use it to look around and get a handle on my environment, then pick an enemy or a safe space to bolt to - and the camera snapping the enemies meant I couldn’t. It drove me crazy because it was like the Mass Effect wheel but fundamentally not, and the camera drove me mad because I’d pull it up trying to find where the nearest blight boil was, and it would snap on enemies instead of just letting me look. It’s like they wanted to get rid of every little bit of tactical game play and replace with smashy smashy bang bang instead. Don’t think, don’t plan, just attack…which fits in with the popcorn flick-ness of DATV. Don’t think, just do. Turn your brain off and look at the particle effects.

Another Mass Effect-ification with regards to combat is dropping from taking 3 companions to 2. Which you need to do to have that Mass Effect style combat wheel, and the Mass Effect 3/Andromeda style primer/detonation style interaction of companion powers. It was very satisfying, but not very Dragon Age-y, and requires throwing out some of that DA lore to make it work, because now everyone uses magic-based abilities even if they aren’t mages. Assan attacks deal fire damage. You can spec a warrior who calls up a giant lightning hammer to twirl around, and…how? That’s not enchantment, that’s plain ol’ magic, and how?! Warriors didn’t deal magic-based attacks uncles their weapons where enchanted before, but now, everyone is just tossing magic attacks at everything. That’s not how the world of Thedas has worked until now, but you can’t have those flashy explosions or particle effects otherwise, so shhh, turn off your brain and don’t think, shhh. Look at the screen light up and the pretty lights. It worked in Mass Effect because they had already set up tech and biotic attacks, but there’s no way to make hitting something hard with a sword cause it to blow up and damage all the other baddies around them, so now everyone has magic. OK.

As an aside, it was also a really bad idea of get rid of how aggro worked. Dragon Age had always worked by warriors drawing aggro because they had the heavier armor (or could use taunt on enemies targeting squishy mages or rogues). Rogues had lower aggro because they had lighter armor, and could sneak. Mages had even lower aggro because they had the lightest armor and were distance fighters. DATV threw that out the window, and Rook draws all aggro because they are the only ones with a health bar. Your squad is immortal in fights, which means there’s no reason for enemies to ever target them. Which means god help you early game when mages and rogues have no real skills yet. Enjoy dodging while your companions hit the enemies with what seems like attacks as powerful as spitballs. It also means that there are times what the game tells you and the fight you just seem are completely at odds. Remember that fight with the Wrath of the Stone in Harding’s companion quest? That thing is on your ass the entire time, but then at the end of it, Rook says something along the lines of “It really hates Harding,” and…are you gaslighting me, game? That thing ignored Harding the whole damn time in favor of trying to stomp me like a cockroach. Harding did not exist to it during my fight. It had a hate boner for Rook and Rook alone, no matter what the game tried to insist on after.

Now, imagine how that would have felt if Harding actually could have been killed/knocked out during the fight, and it was only going after her? What if you couldn’t damage it if it took her down, so you had to make sure she stayed alive? Imagine how different that fight would have hit then? But no, that would mean the devs have to think about how to rez characters and how healing would work, and would mean players have to be tactical, and shh, no, no more of that, no thinking, just dodge and hit things and look at the particle effects. Shh. Have some more popcorn.

Story: DATV wants so badly to be ME2. It wants to recall the big suicide mission where you have to have everyone ready or you’ll all die. But you can’t copy what you did before and get the same flowers and results. You just can’t. You can try, and all you’ll get is diminishing returns. They tried to do the big cosmic horror of ME1, complete with a Virmire choice, then have the big final stakes of ME2, and no. You can’t follow a template and get the same greatness. That’s not how it works.

And speaking of following templates…

Romances: The romances in Veilguard are just dismal. And I think it’s because they decided to follow the Mass Effect pacing formula instead of the Dragon Age one.

Dragon Age: You start flirting in Act 1. You usually flirt with everyone because hey, why not? Some time in Act 2, things start getting serious, and you have to settle on who you want to go for. Things start to get serious, you get together, and then you get happy fun adult time with your new LI. You get the option to break it off or commit to them fully. By Act 3, you’re in a committed relationship. People comment about it. You can go to them and spend time with them - nothing major, maybe just a kiss. There might also be a special scene that’s just with them and unique to the romance. And by the end, after the lengthy amount of time that’s passed, you are Together.

Mass Effect: You start flirting in Act 1. You usually flirt with everyone because hey, why not? In Act 2, you keep on flirting with everyone. By the end, you might have to make a choice if you’re flirting too hard with everyone and the two LI options tell you to pick someone already, but you’re just picking who you’re interested in. Early in Act 3, there might be an almost kiss, but it’s mostly just the occasional anticipation of eventually boning and nothing really happens until right before the final big fight, when your LI shows up to your cabin for “oh shit, we might die in a few hours, so let’s go out with a high note” happy fun adult time. The only time you get that “committed relationship” vibes is in ME3 if you’re romanced the same character for at least one other game, and you choose to continue the relationship.

The Mass Effect pacing works in the Mass Effect trilogy because each game is only 20-40 hours long. Veilguard is a good 80 hours long. That means using that same amount of romance you use in ME is going to mean you’ve got too little butter to spread over too much bread. It’s why you have a good start for the romances in Act 1, then act 2 is a such a desert of nothing after you commit that I genuinely wondered if I’d hit the wrong option at said no at several points during the very long third act. There’s not just enough content for that long of an Act 2. Near the end everyone starts commenting on you being with them, but it’s not actually happening in the game. There’s no flirting, there are no extra scenes, and even the scene when you commit to them is based on a scene that happens with everyone, just with a romance option tacked on. The only person (of the ones I romanced, so I can’t speak to the others) who really get unique scenes was Emmerich. He actually takes you out on a unique date. It helped a lot to make Emmerich’s romance feel more fleshed out than the others. And Davrin had so many little jaunts out in the woods that those turned into romantic trips out, which added a lot to his. But Lucanis’ and Hardings? With both of them, like I said before, I genuinely wondered if I had accidentally opted out. Their romances most used the Mass Effect format, and it just doesn’t work for a game this long. BioWare knew that once, long ago, because Andromeda did not use the ME trilogy format for romances and was closer to one they used in DA. But DATV is trying to be ME2, so they used ME2’s very thin romances as a guide.

And we can all see how well that turned out.

The Executors: Fuck me, they feel like Cerberus reskinned, and I absolutely hated when Mass Effect shifted from sci-fi/Lovecraftian horror to space opera with Cerberus as the main bad guys you have to fight with the Reapers functionally falling to the background. The Executors are a secret, shadowy organization pulling strings from behind the scenes like the Shadow Broker codexes in ME2 retconned Cerberus into having been doing in ME. Ugh.

The Andromeda-ification of dialogue: Remember Peebee? Remember how she talked? Give her long hair and pointy ears, and she’s Bellara. Down even to the techno-babble. It’s like they’re trying to change magic to just “sufficiently advanced technology.” Everyone speaks in that modern, quippy style that was annoying in a game set hundreds of years in the future because it felt dated by the time the game came out (Ryder makes a Frozen joke, y’all). And it feels completely out of place in a game set in an early modern setting (I don’t think DA is medieval, honestly - it’s more a pre-industrialization/early scientific revoltution setting, so more 1500-1700s, and I’m gonna stop now). It was jarring. You can only let one quirky character break the rules about how people talk (Alistair in DAO, Varric in DA2, Cole in DAI) but when everyone does, it’s jarring. You can be anachronistic, but you have to know what you’re doing and how to do it when you do, and I’m sorry, but the current crop of BioWare writers don’t. They wrote the dialogue like it was a modern day YA novel, not a Dragon Age game. It would have been fine for a modern day urban fantasy game. It was not fine for a DA game set in the same time period as people using the four humours for “modern” medicine (remember the surgeon in DAI? Talked about the four humours? Yeah.)

OK, I did not intend to go on for this long, and I haven’t even gotten to what the game did to how religion is handled or the sociopolitical aspects of Thedas, and how they threw out so much that made Dragon Age unique in their urge to do a soft reboot, so I’m just going to end it here. I wanted to love this game, and I can only do that if I turn my brain off, and that’s not what Dragon Age should be.

[ashyjingles]

jason grace headcanons

as requested by @sacrifical-lamb-core

ive been known to enjoy some more feral leaning jason grace but this is more of an authoritative take on his personality if you will. feel free to add to or dispute anything i have here!! this is all kind of a jumbled mess of first-come-first-serve deal in my head and i have yet to go through and weed any out

he has problems with authority. not outwardly; in fact, to everyone else, he’s the picture perfect kid who follows all of the rules. but that’s because he’s terrified of what would happen if he stepped out of line. he grew up with lupa, who was incredibly harsh to ensure survival in her pups. and then when he got to the legion, all of the officers were required to uphold the law. jason saw what happened to people who stepped the line, and the results were never pretty. (in son of neptune they mentione tying someone in a bag with weasels and throwing them in the little tiber for fuck’s sake) he grew scared to even TOE the line. 

because of the previous hc, he’s scared of kids. he knows how rambunctious they get, and he knows that if it came down to it, he would have to punish them and follow through on it by necessity. its what all his predecessors did after all. but he doesn't want to harm them. hes always had that soft spot for the new and/or younger kids. so he’s not scared of kids themselves, he’s scared of being the one to give them consequences to their potential actions. he leaves that to someone else with more guts

the previous two leave him with a lot of cognitive dissonance that he never really gets over. he’s an incredibly empathetic person and no matter how much he tries he can never really stop that feeling of regret when he has to punish someone who clearly regrets their actions. but give them an inch and they'll take a mile. he has major problems with dissociation where he removes his sense of self from the scenario and lets his logical processing take over without any emotion. reyna has had to pull him back from it a few too many times.

between the dissociation, magical amnesia, adhd, and constant brain damage, that boy has one of the worst memories youve ever seen

he really likes steak. specifically rare steak. (wolf!jason truther…)

he can see electrical currents! and can. see? wind currents. its more of a knowing the wind currents are there without thinking about them rather than a visual thing though. its how despite his poor eyesight he was an excellent fighter before he got the glasses

jason has really sharp canines! so does thalia! they get it from their mom, who filed her own canines down for a softer appearance and would have done the same to her kids once they were old enough for that type of dental work. 

jason is left handed, but because of military-style training early on it was forcibly trained out of him either because nobody realized he was left-handed or because they looked down on left-handedness for the sake of unanimity in the formations on the field. he just thinks hes naturally ambidextrous

gay. mlm. boy kisser for certain that man does NOT like girls. he treated reyna and piper the exact same despite one of them being his girlfriend (and treated reyna in a way where she thought he might have liked her back) because he treats them both in accordance to his emotions toward them: ie, he likes both platonically, which is why theres no difference. he just cant tell.

he fucking LOVES mint. says brushing his teeth and chugging a cold glass of water makes his mouth feel like being up in the air and 15 thousand feet with the wind in face.

he’s half asian! beryl grace is asian (i usually go with either thai or vietnamese) and usually i just went with wasian but then the show came out and now i go with blasian. or maybe beryl grace is wasian? whatever the case, i always pictured him and thalia as having some sort of asian descent.

hes really good at archery. dont tell anyone its just him controlling the winds though

hes such a dog person oh my god

his eyes light up like circuits/lightning when he uses his powers. specifically his lightning powers. 

jason doesnt have dyslexia but he does have dyscalculia. like, really bad dyscalculia. but he still greatly prefers reading in latin!

jason hated reading for the longest time because they didnt have any books purely for enjoyment on base. in new rome itself they had bookstores with plenty of books. (they were mostly classics because they didnt have too much contact with the rest of the world, but they were more than just military reports or old historic scrolls you needed express permission to even breath on) but when he discovers newer books he finds himself really liking them! though his favourite genre is definitely classics, and when someone breaks the news to him that he couldve had these books the entire time hes devastated

when he was younger he was better at latin than english because most kids who arrive at camp jupiter know english already and theyre well equipped at teaching people latin, but not english. they had to send him to a school off base/in new rome for younger kids to learn some more rudimentary skills

it was under juno’s orders that he lived on base. she wanted him to be as prepared as possible for his future, which meant starting his training bright and early. otherwise he probably would have spent some time in camp jupiter as a normal kid until he could at least, oh i dunno, read and write. tie his shoes. eat with cutlery. take a bath by himself.

if jason had been there long enough without the swap ever happening, when he stepped down from praetor (not for another longggg few years) he would have done law in new rome. 

if post swap jason grace had the opportunity to do law in new rome, he would have pushed for rules regarding kids safety. of course, if another jason case were to happen nobody would have been able to deny a god(dess) but jason was never a normal case, was he?

can you tell i like lawyer!jason

less of a headcanon more of commentary on his character but as strong of a character as he was, camp half blood taught him how to have a back bone. in rome he was incredibly disciplined and had no trouble ordering other people around, but it was always in accordance with new rome’s laws. camp half blood taught him how to abide by his own moral principles rather than ones that someone else gave to him. (after all, new rome was about unity while chb was about individuality.) 

he honestly really likes his work as pontifex maximus. it fulfills his inner desire to be doing the ‘right’ thing by rome’s standards (especially because the title is highly revered) while giving him the room to express his creative desires, which is something that he had never been able to do. its also not at the cost of someone else, which usually ended up happening when he was upholding the law as praetor

this one works in contrast or in tandem with my previous bullet on his sexuality (specifically the comment on how he treated piper and reyna): he knew that reyna had a crush on him. he didnt know why he couldnt feel the same. queer culture wasnt really a thing in the modern world for the time it took place, and i dont imagine new rome was any more progressive. he didnt understand lots of things about his sexuality at the time. he didnt know that not liking girls might have been an option, and that he didnt have to like reyna back. so he tried his best to convince himself into having feelings for her, which led to reyna thinking they were reciprocated. once he met piper, that confusion happened all over again and even without his memories he found himself repeating the process

his favourite is blue like the sky, and ironically his and thalia’s eyes

thalias eyes are slightly darker than jason’s. more grey as well. jason’s are the brightest fucking blue youve ever seen. think the clearest, sunniest day youve ever seen, and it still doesnt hold a candle to his eyes. thalias are more like the sky before a storm.

jason can feel (along with see as given by previous bullet) electrical currents. he could feel someone switching a light switch from half a mile away if he thought about it

hes constantly brimming with static electricity and WILL shock everything he touches. a handshake? you get shocked. he tries to open a car door? literal sparks. as a kid he had to wear electricity resistant gloves because he didnt have a hold on it and it became dangerous because when his emotions are heightened, so are his powers. if he gets angry or excited or sad the air around him smells like ozone, and sometimes you can even see the sparks

cows really like him. straight up adore him. theyre his favourite animal!

he smells like ink, ozone, and something metallic. some people say blood, but hazel says its something like copper or nickel

[darkkitty1208]

So this post may be a little all over the place cos the brain is scrambled but i'm rereading the spinoff and got to this bit:

I love this scene because it's obvious that Reigen despite his often questionable decisions KNOWS when to draw the line and proves yet again he actually has a good moral compass. He may not always be honest but he has good intentions most of the time and always knows the right thing to do. He tricks people not to scare them but to "expel those fears".

Another thing I love is the little detail of Serizawa's reaction in the background. It can literally be interpreted as either "Serizawa doesn't think this is a good idea but doesn't know how to express his opinion" or "Serizawa isn't opposed to the idea of keeping Tome around and doesn't want to scare her away" which. Ough *clutches chest* seripapa & tomedaughter my beloved.

Also it's interesting that it also implies that, for a moment, Serizawa genuinely thought Reigen was about to consider tricking another teen, but then immediately Reigen confirms that he wants to "have a proper talk with her", and this to me I think shows that Reigen has really learnt his lesson from Mob after that whole psychic tornado and destroying half the city lmao. Which is likely the reason why this happens later on:

AND!!!! HNGHH!!! IT'S JUST!!! He doesn't. Want to lie anymore. He's seen the way keeping the truth from Mob for so long affected him, and he doesn't want to make the same mistake with Tome. Sure, that makes her disappointed and hurt and all (isn't that familiar?), and he probably expected that it'd successfully drive tome away from s&s, but isn't that a good thing? Isn't that what they planned to do? Keep Tome away from the dangers his job comes with? (Isn't that familiar?) But then Tome returns anyway. Because Tome admires and looks up to him for more than just his "psychic powers", and because she genuinely likes Reigen as a person. (ISN'T. THAT. FAMILIAR?)

That's also not mentioning the development Tome went through from the "everybody's a dull and boring goody goody and I'm too different to hang out with them" mentality to the "everybody has their quirks and differences and shouldn't be ashamed to share them" mentality.

The thing is that it's also the same development her friends go through, and isn't it brilliant that despite how easily they can just go with the usual "quirky different girl can't fit in" trope, they decided to go against that and show that Tome CAN make friends even with her unconventional interest, because everybody has an unconventional interest and that's okay to have. It goes with how MP100 as a series is a commentary against stereotypical manga tropes by extending it to the spinoff. There's just a level of awareness in the way it's written that isn't deluded by those stereotypes.

Anyway if you haven't read the spinoff already READ IT. IT'S SO GOOD.

[swimmingenthusiasty]

Woah. That phrase is nostalgic of school. Fucking stationary. Pencil case.

Every surface is fucking smooth. and flat. The tables the floors the board the field the court the path the brains.

The girls like steaming compost heaps inside uniform. Sterile, kept from dirt and dust, yet somehow gross. Warm and fixed in place behind a desk like the zits and pustules on their face. Insecure eyes darting side to side and only finding each other, other girls to judge. Like some type of layer in hell.

Loosing their shit over 'guys' who are all mummy's boys at that age. Yelling over their egos, mum flavoured cries for approval. Repeating mum's script. The asian one talking about a 'gud future' it was just what mum said. The stickler worried about safety was just mum's script. Literal fucking babies. With egos. Because those are the two things that mums make. Babies and egos. It's like full circle for the girls looking because nothing less conceited would have sufficed.

There's no patriarchy. Guys stop moving without egos. Without someone to hype them up. If guys want to function without girls, they will invent women amongst themselves to hype them up. If you want dad to keep going to work and mum does a shit job of hyping him up, you better find a way fast. Either you become like a girl and hype or you get used to making your own home. If she insists that you just can't do that and you can't say no because you're still a mommy's boy and her script overrides yours. Then I hope you like lacey stuff. There was one more thing. Oh, this is when I knew it was him. Women created guys like this because of the way they are with eachother. The way they compete and stuff but always indirectly, through a middle thing. That's why they made men.

This is brother's air. Before he leaves for work is when he has the most to give and he only gives when he sees something in my messages. Doesn't make it less true. I mean i don't know if it is fully correct. I'm like a windchime at this point. Anyone you put me near, I'll make a noise to their presence, to their movements, to the air they displace. Guys usually make writing happen though. Girls will make something actually happen.

If I really wanted I can take with me this feeling about -not being a guy's hype prop by releasing my concern for finances and a place to sleep, for stability. Not stability itself but my concern over it.

She wanted me to replace him in her life, to earn for her in his place and she'd go gut whatever he'd had left without holding back. Mistakes me for him often like it already happened in her mind. Like there was no need to ask. She put me between them when I was little and said I should defend when they fought. I think she also liked cucking when they were good. I think she's a bit gay the way she talks about little girls and women's thighs. I don't know if that means I got it from her, like passed down or if I reacted to how gross she was being. Anyway. All that to say that the next time I'll say 'okay burn the house down if you like' when she tries to make herself your problem (her moods and emotions are hers) or her lifestyle your fault (her lack of lasting friendships does not make you a mandatory friend forever, you're no different to all the other people who wouldn't want to stay) or insists her decisons are your decisons (all those times you say something and get ignored, it wasn't hard to hear what you said, she didn't forget that quick. It's up to you to decide how much respect you want) but then that's no way to practice having a house and any fight or playing up will get a crowd. It's hard to affirm without resorting to disrespect when someone is actually dismisive and disrespectful. I can see how their conversations always went the same. She got what she gave. Then that carries over into other conversations. Or you just feel a bit sad and resentful at real kindess, and i've seen it on my father's face. Like he's thinking oh I have to get used to this now? Where were you this whole time. You're only temporary, it's her shit that I'm used to, we'll be back in the shit and you'll be gone, so just be gone early as a favor. It's not just her. He attracted her from a lifetime of the same shits. It made him more than rough around the edges as a consequence and I've gone through all that's like and I wouldn't want to repeat what he felt or how he became. Input output. Change his input, don't have the same shit he had.

All this sympathy towards him. Told you it was the brother. He misunderstands that's why he thinks I need to think this stuff. I need these people to take back their issues. Him you can't tell him anything other than you're hurt, you need to work on yourself. You're allowed to tell someone enough and they should leave. You don't need a million and one ways to push people away. Some are really hurtful. She was at fault when you said enough and she just smirked that you reacted and looked a fool infront of your house. Now for her, you really can't tell her anything. That's why it's taken so long to peel her off. But being here is because he failed me. I went to him, to be my lifeline IF I needed the van sold. End of story. He betrayed himself so often that he just wanted someone else to take the shit. That's why he called her seconds after he hung up and promised me he wouldn't. That's not exactly why though. There's something severly damaged about him from that last disrespect. She went to his last respectable friendship source, the guy she couldn't dis, undisputed source of respectability amongst both of them and the guy called and shamed him. It's like how the guy at the end of 1984 broke. He will just do anything after that. To appease his opressor. My father had a right to a boundary that she could not cross. He is helping by staying away. He is preventing himself from further betrayal. He is of no use to either of us in this fight. Let me finish and if I betray myself it won't be his influence. Don't fuck bears next time pa pap.

Think of leaving and that's how I know brother's air is wrapping up. It always shows up at the end as what he wants. So stressed to see the car parked, room taken up. Doesn't make it the wrong decision necessarily. Im pretty sure i could sneak guys around in the morning. To help line her up. So they want the same thing. I couldn't get him to line up with her though. I can ask for more stuff, room back, more space in the garden, hang around the house a lot. Though I still think he'd stay and get more sabotagey. It's what he's practiced. More foreign for him to get a place. More familiar to ruin something that's around. I get nothing from a fight. I don't want to have the house, I don't like to be here all the time. I can visualise him moving out. Like he does. But again, for what? I would gladly exchange the feelings for them for something good towards myself. It's just that the best way to do that is not clear cut. Everyone did the best they could with what they had. You can't choose them. If however she chose you to be her backup financial plan that's something but not at all uncommon. If she fought hard to hold you back so she wouldn't be alone then that is also not unheard of in love.

It's about learning about these behaviours from others and knowing better and also, unfortunately, it's about undoing hangups they might have caused. If they weren't undoable, many unfortunate consequences are permanent. It becomes a question of acceptance and if you accept will it also define your direction? Will you do something with it, every. single. day.

Early bird gets the moon

Lake Elkhorn, Maryland.

📷: @zalman_waihaus

[fizzie-frog]

Blitzø: core self, trauma and healing

This will be a post going into Blitz’s character starting from his childhood to present. His teen self, his adult self and the present. As someone who relates so much to him, his arc was amazing to watch and went from a character I kinda disliked to a character I absolutely love today.

I apologize if this is all over the place - I don’t write long posts everyday and in the last years I’ve been so busy, tired and just unmotivated that it’s almost like my brain can’t cooperate, but I wanted to make this post.

Also, of course, this will be long… So if you want to read - under the cut. This will be split into parts (thanks to Tumblr's limitations).

PART TWO

In the latest episode we’ve seen Blitz being so much more supportive, patient - Stolas’s cheerleader. It feels like he’s returning to his roots. Let me explain…

“I think… I think if anyone’s gonna be the new clown face on everything… It’ll be you, Fizz!”

Clearly, this is a trait Blitz (back then going by Blitzo) always had at his core. He loved his dear ones and he showed it. He encouraged them, supported them in their dreams and also made sure they’re safe, as it shows with Fizzarolli in his teens. Growing up in Greed (arguably one of the most dangerous rings of Hell), Blitz had to toughen up. Fizz on the other hand had no clue how to fight and he was anxious.

So, Blitz was the protector.

When he sees Fizz made uncomfortable by a creepy fan, he’s quick to jump in.

He makes sure Fizz is safe, pushes the creep away and goes right back to his so-called “cheerleader self”. Fizz is made to feel insecure by the cruel words spat at him, so Blitz supports him, telling him he is in fact good enough and not to listen to the words of some idiot.

It’s all so natural for Blitz. This was him at his core. And while I’m sure growing up in Greed does a number on someone no matter what, he still had some innocence within him before everything went wrong.

Let’s see more of his childhood.

Blitz was a circus performer, much like Fizz. He was the ringleader’s son, but he was definitely not the star of the show. We’re not shown much of his circus performance, but as storytelling goes, this scene serves to tell us that he wasn’t quite the fan favorite…

Despite this, he pushed on. Even when he felt discouraged, he had drive (and that drive pushed him to achieve what he has today). Born in a discriminatory world where he’s the bottom of the barrel, drive and perseveration are his biggest qualities.

He clearly saw the discrepancy between him and Fizz. His best friend and crush, he was the fan favorite and Blitz’s own dad favoured him over his own son. And Fizz is incredibly talented, that’s why he made it so big (even with the help of deadly sins, he couldn’t have been liked if he just wasn’t good enough), but that didn’t make Cash’s treatment of them better.

I doubt Cash was all that good towards Fizz either, just that he abused him in different ways than Blitz, but that’s for another story.

Despite this, he was still in good spirits with Fizz. His dad’s treatment of them didn’t make Blitz wanna do bad things to Fizzarolli. He loved him as his best friend and I think it shows that Blitz could separate the two.

Even if he did end up hurting Fizz in an emotional moment… In a complete, tragic accident where everything that could go wrong, went wrong. It wasn’t Blitz’s fault, but he caused it.

Of course though, the situation is much more complicated than that. The tent was flammable, there were lit candles being brought inside and also fireworks stored inside. It was a recipe for disaster. But Blitz, in an emotional moment, didn’t stop to look around himself or think before pushing the first person in front of him.

Feelings of inadequacy, I assume, both to be more to Fizz and also to be his dad’s son. Someone like Fizz couldn’t love him. And also, his dad loved Fizz more than him (or rather his potential). He is useless, he’ll never amount to it. Not to Fizz’s love, not to his dad’s love.

Who really knows what happened in Blitz’s head in that moment, but it was a mix of very bad emotions and his insecurities slowly became a self-fulfilling prophecy.

But before we go into the fateful day that changed his life completely, let’s talk a bit more about him in the past.

Even though his dad has always been a neglectful, bad parent (as far as we’ve seen), Blitz was a bit of a rebel even from a young age. He held his ground as much as someone his age could, questioned his dad and despite his difference in treatment, Cash knew he could count on Blitz to do the heist mission he’s put him up to.

Blitz was scared. Of course, he was a child. But he wanted to help his dad, and especially his mom. Cash clearly knew it and used it to manipulate him into doing it.

We don’t know much about his mom, but she was shown as someone that Blitz clearly loved. And Blitz does anything for the people he loves.

So… He agreed to it - he would go to prince Stolas’s place and steal off him. Even from a young age, he’s been set up to dangerous missions, cause if Blitz was clumsier or more obvious or he was caught in any way, it could’ve been horrible for him. Cash probably knew that, but still decided it was worth risking his son. (When I catch you, Cash…)

As soon as he got to his place, we’ve seen even more of his core. He is smart and inventive (granted, Stolas was also pretty sheltered and didn’t know much). He came up with a way to steal right in front of the prince and get away with it.

And he’s always had big dreams. He will have his own business, a big office, horses with good name, he will be a good boss… Despite his circumstances, he had an image of what he wanted to be.

So how could we describe Blitz at his core? I would use the following:

Brave

Rebellious

Smart

Determined

Kind

Playful

Supportive

Protective

The “cheerleader” of his loved ones

But also impulsive, which was his downfall that day and continued to be after.

This is Blitz at his core, before everything went wrong and trauma started to plague his inner self.

The day everything went wrong.

(Btw; not all hellfire is green. The fire is green cause they’re in Greed.)

His impulsivity got the better of him - in his distress, he pushed someone over holding a cake with lit up candles. Fire hazards aside, it was definitely a domino effect and it happened right on Fizz’s birthday.

Blitz himself was injured in this accident and in that moment, he had to make a decision… He was gonna save Fizz that was crawling in agony right in front of him, or save his mother.

(Side note: So, did Blitz actually see Fizz crawling up to him? Cause there was a thought that he just managed not to see him, but in Ghostfuckers we can see Fizz from his perspective. So I’m going with that it was a split decision he had to make.)

That proved to be yet another unfortunate decision in the chain of tragedy, cause he made his choice, abandoning Fizz right in front of him to run over to help his mother… Who, ultimately, didn’t survive. Fizz did, and they ended up not speaking for 15 (!!) years.

After the tragedy, his pos of a dad struck his freshly burnt son (!!) and forbid him from seeing his best friend, telling him he didn’t wanna see him (what he’d find later that it was a complete lie).

That resulted in a pointless grudge that lasted for 15 years. There is the question of why Blitz didn’t try to contact him after his hospital say, but there could be so many reasons. Further external interference, the inability to (after all, he was abandoned with nothing and injured), Fizz being unreachable, etc. But that could’ve been prevented if Cash just allowed Blitz to see Fizz in the hospital.

So what were the consequences?

His dad hates him. (Trash took itself out imo)

His sister hates him.

His best friend hates him.

He has no home. No money. No family, no friends. He’s all on his own, and it was all his doing - accident or not. That would be hard on anyone.

What was he up to after that? Well…

We know he worked at Loo Loo Land for a while before he gave up performing altogether. He wasn’t happy, and being in the presence of a robotic replica of his now famous former best friend (that he burnt alive and disabled by accident) certainly couldn’t be a fun time.

And clearly he’s got a few issues with performing knowing his performance during those days and in the circus…

“I can’t do this, not again; I haven’t performed since…”

We know somewhere during his time he dated Verosika Mayday, whom she left and maxed out her credit card on shitty horse riding lessons, supposedly after she told Blitz she loves him.

He adopted Loona…

Seeing Loona in that shelter, Blitz saw himself. He saw himself and the love he never got and decided he was gonna give her that love. He was gonna be the dad he never had. A life changed without even realizing, too plagued by his trauma - he couldn’t see the good things he’s done.

“Oh, her? That’s just Loona… What a nightmare; serious attitude problems. She’ll be out of our hair next month when she ages out… Good riddance if you ask me, she’ll never amount to anything much.”

That might as well be said about Blitz, cause that’s how he feels about himself. Like a disaster, like he brings misfortune to everyone else. He chose to take on that tough job, the job to house and care for a daughter with “serious attitude problems” that show in their day to day. She lashes out, she is mean, she is avoidant, but he never holds it against her. Just like he needed someone to support him when he was all alone. He doesn’t even have his own bedroom, taking the couch while giving Loona the only bedroom available.

He sneaked into the place of the prince he once stole from and got his book, knowing it'd help his plan (thus starting the full moon deal)...

He made his own business, something imps don’t do. He made it. He hired Moxxie;

Changing another life.

He hired Millie;

Changing yet another life.

Yet he still couldn’t help think that everyone hated him and that he deserved it. Nobody really cares, it all amounts to his usefulness. Why would anyone love him? Why him?

Unhealthy beliefs hid his core self:

He’s unloveable

He brings tragedy to anyone he gets close to

You’re only as wanted as you are needed

Emotions complicate things and nobody cares anyway

He has never done a good thing in his life

He will die alone

He deserves it ^

PART TWO HERE (due to Tumblr limitations... Sorry)

[milkywaybesties]

i did. more writing. the gay people have captured my brain. no, im not sorry

Cleo’s Halloween parties were fun. Grian never said they weren’t. But when it came to their friend group, things were… a bit chaotic. Grian, of course, definitely contributed to the chaos, but even he would say that this year’s party was excessive.

Joel, Martyn, Skizz, and some others were all making a commotion in the center of the room. They were playing Uno, and apparently things were getting very heated.

There was music playing, not synced up, from maybe three different speakers. And with all the voices and shouting, it was loud.

And with the motion, and the lights, and the itchy fake feathers on Grian’s parrot costume…

He needed to leave.

But he and his siblings had gotten a ride with Impulse and Skizz, and the four of them were having so much fun… 

Tim was sitting on a couch, laughing with Tango (the two were bright red, and Grian was totally going to tease Timmy about it later). Pearl was sitting on the kitchen counter, eyes fixated on her best friend next to her, clearly not fully focusing on what Gem was saying. Grian knew that, if asked, his twin would say she was only staring at Gem for the joke of the costume, a moth staring at the lights in Gem’s hair, but everyone knew that was a lie.

And Impulse and Skizz, their ride home, were playing Uno. And they were all laughing and enjoying themselves. Grian couldn’t ruin the night for them.

So he had ended up hiding in a side room. He wasn’t entirely sure what room, or how he got there, but he was laying on something soft. Maybe a bed? And it was dark. And a little bit quieter. Not silent. But better.

Light spilled in through the opening door. Grian squinted and let out a small noise of distaste.

”G?” A voice said from the doorway, before closing the door and approaching, “You okay, birdie?”

Grian turned his head slightly towards the voice, but it was hard to see who it was in the dark, and everything was so loud that he couldn’t recognize the voice.

”Hey, it’s okay,” they comforted, “Why are you crying?”

Grian was confused. Was he? He didn’t think he was. But that would explain the wet cheeks and dry throat.

”Is the party too loud?” When they weren’t given a response, they continued, “Okay, I’m gonna be right back and get you some snacks and water, you stay here.”

Grian’s mystery friend went out the door. Grian stayed there, in the dark, and not long later, he heard someone climbing down from the top bunk of the bed. Top bunk? Was it Scar and Bdubs’s room? That must have been Bdubs.

”All this noise,” he complained, “Can a man sleep around here?”

As he approached the door, Grian heard it open, where Bdubs greeted someone on the other side, “Hey Scar.”

Ah. It was his partner. 

“Hey Bdubs,” Scar greeted back, “Where are you going?”

”To see if I can get mom to turn this stupid music down,” he grumbled, “Who plays three different songs at once anyway?”

”Good plan,” Scar said, with all his usual cheer, “I’ll be in here!”

With that, the door closed, and Grian could hear Scar limp closer to the bed before sitting down next to him.

”I brought water! And pita chips,” Scar said, “If you’re not hungry that’s okay.”

Grian rolled over, and looked up at his boyfriend. “I’d take some water,” he croaked.

Scar handed him the bottle, and he sat up to take several greedy gulps before setting it back down.

Without another word, his partner held his arms out to Grian, and he collapsed straight into the man. They sat there for a while like that, and the music outside quieted while they were.

The door opened, and Bdubs came back in. He was approaching the ladder to the top bunk when he paused and casually remarked, “Mom and Dad broke up.”

”What?!” Scar jolted upright, still holding onto Grian, “Cleo and Etho broke up?! When?!”

”They were breaking up basically right when I walked out there,” Bdubs explained, climbing up to the top bunk, “I didn’t ask why. I’m too tired for that. It’s past my bedtime, for goodness sake!”

Grian pulled away from Scar. He was good on cuddles for now, and Scar clearly was going to keep prying information from Bdubs, for very understandable reasons. Instead, Grian tuned out their conversation, letting it become background noise, while he turned to the untouched pita chips Scar had brought him.

Oh, did his boyfriend know him well.

[alexihollis]

Jealousy the Funny Disease (pt. 1)

*someone said something about a polycule and it grew in my brain*

There was a time where Rembrandt truly did believe that Ajax would figure it out. It being the obvious attraction Ajax had to Swan. Swan's attraction to Ajax. Rembrandt's attraction to Swan and Swan's attraction to Rembrandt that often involved Swan panicking if she so much as accidentally brushed the back of her hand against Rembrandt's. She thought that, once Ajax figured it out, maybe had a minor freak out about it, preferably chose to not fight Swan about said panic, maybe they could bring Swan into their relationship. Maybe it wouldn't be forever, but...Rembrandt thought it could be nice. At least for a little while.

They got close, in a way. There were many nights spent, just the three of them in the night, Swan and Ajax watching Rembrandt's back as she tagged. Swan might have flinched away from physical affection, but she always listened when Rembrandt went on her tangents and offered her quiet insights. She even went to the art museums with Rembrandt, which even Ajax found difficult, as much as she tried for Rembrandt. They went out to the queer bars and Swan hung around the walls, watching until it was time to go home. And despite the fact that Ajax was willing to wingman pretty much anyone, she never tried to find Swan a girl, not once. So. Rembrandt hoped. She hoped the little thing that existed between the three of them might grow.

Except Ajax never did figure it out. Swan became Cleon's number two and the closest her and Ajax came to talking about their mutual feelings was when they were pummeling each other. And Rembrandt never said anything, because she was painfully aware how badly this could go. How quickly Ajax would sacrifice herself if she thought it would make Rembrandt happy and that was simply not allowed.

Then came the night from Hell and, suddenly, Swan had a girlfriend for the first time. It hurt, a bit. To see Swan and Mercy so happy while Rembrandt stressed over Ajax getting out.

Ajax got out, though, sooner than anyone imagined and also too long - two months.

"Did she even go through initiation?" Ajax grumbled, brow lowered as she all but glared across Cleon's living room at where Mercy and Swan were curled up on the couch. Swan read a book and Mercy pretended to read the same book, but spent much more time slowly finger-combing Swan's hair.

"She did more than enough, be nice," Rembrandt chided, nudging Ajax's shoulder with her own where they leant against the wall.

Ajax's jaw flexed, but she didn't say anything. Well. She didn't say anything, then, and she didn't say anything specific.

"Her jokes aren't that funny," Ajax muttered under her breath later that night when Swan was laughing at something Mercy said.

It caught Rembrandt completely off-guard and all she could do was side-eye Ajax.

"Why the fuck doesn't she just wear her own colors?" Ajax grouched a couple of days later when Swan and Mercy were play fighting over Swan's colors, currently on Mercy's back.

Rembrandt looked down at her vest. Then at Ajax, "I stole your original vest."

Ajax gritted her teeth. "That's different."

"We were initiated at the same time."

"It's. Different." Rembrandt did not push it farther.

She thought it was cute, how Mercy stole Swan's colors. A traitorous thought occurred that it would be really cute if she stole Swan's and then Swan stole Ajax's. Then, Mercy and Rembrandt could watch Swan and Ajax fight over- Nope. Not going there, no, bad brain, baaaad brain, there is a snowball's chance in hell at this point.

"I can't believe Cleon sent them out alone," Ajax griped and, at this point, it had been two weeks of this nonsense and Rembrandt was losing her mind a little bit.

"Uh-huh," was Rembrandt's only response from her and Ajax's bed, sketching in her sketchbook while Ajax got ready for bed.

"She always sends Swan and me," Ajax continued. "Swan and I have each other's backs for gigs like that."

"They're still in Brooklyn."

"Swan's a good fighter, she can take me, but she isn't intimidating," Ajax said. "And neither is Mercy! Cleon's asking for them to get jumped!"

"Oh, my God, will you just admit you're jealous?!" Rembrandt exclaimed, looking up at Ajax exasperated.

"I'm not jealous!" Ajax retorted. Then, after a moment, more forcefully, "I'm not jealous! Why would I be jealous?"

Rembrandt groaned, rolled her eyes. "Never mind."

But Ajax was not finished. "Why would I be jealous? Just because Swan barely talks to me anymore. And now Cleon's sending Mercy out instead of me. I'm not jealous. I don't care that Swan thinks Mercy's funny. Or that Mercy's pretty in that soft, girly way. I don't want to be like that. You're pretty like that, though, so I do think it's kind of bullshit, because Swan should have noticed. And Swan needs other things, too. Swan's always taking care of everyone else and she never puts herself first, ever. Ever. She just met Mercy, there's no way that Mercy knows that Swan does that, so what if she lets Swan do that all the time. Not to mention, Swan never hangs out with us anymore! It's always, 'I'm going out with Mercy' or 'Mercy and I are doing-Oh."

Ajax turned to Rembrandt with wide-eyes. "Am I jealous of Mercy?!"

"Yes. Yes, you are, thank you for finally catching up, you have been driving me crazy for weeks," Rembrandt grumbled as she tried to return to her sketchbook.

"But- I-"

Rembrandt finally took pity on Ajax. "We both liked Swan. Swan liked us. Neither of you figured it out enough to talk about it and now we're here." Then, because Rembrandt knew where Ajax was going to go with this, "Ajax, she really likes Mercy."

"But," Ajax's nose crinkled, the way it did when she was faced with a difficult problem. "Were we dating?"

"No," Rembrandt sighed. "No. Dating implies actual understanding. We were...doing something. I don't know, but...No. It is what it is."

"I don't like that."

"I know. But do you really want to mess this up for her? She's the happiest I've seen her in a long time."

It should have been easy, to watch someone you cared deeply for be happy. Even if it was with someone else.

It would have been easy, if Mercy wasn't Mercy.

Mercy tried so hard and there was something about that effort that made Rembrandt's heart ache as she watched it. She wanted to wrap Mercy up and promise that they had her, it was okay, no one was going to send her away, she was a Warrior now. Instead, Rembrandt had to trust that Swan was doing that.

"Why is Mercy funny?" Ajax grouched at their ceiling one night.

"Because she's fucking perfect," Rembrandt grouched back.

"Why are they both- That isn't fair."

"It really isn't."

"We're funny!"

"I'm funny."

"Okay, well, I'm buffer than Swan."

"I'm at least as pretty as Mercy."

"...this isn't making me feel better."

"Yeah, no, I don't think trash-talking women we like is going to help us."

To be Cont'd

Also if y'all have any prompts, they would be greatly appreciated! writer's block is trying to catch me, but i am outrunning it swiftly!

[sleepymccoy]

I am so pleased with these suggestions!!! You guys are absolutely on it!

I'm keen to only do one of each character, so while Kirk and Spock especially have so so many options I wanna pick just one. And for me, Kirk is with the Gorn.

I'm still pretty split on Spock. Id really love the whole thing to really feature alien-looking aliens and the romulans commander is just quite humanoid. But it is a very Spock-heavy episode which I'd like to reflect (hence why I'm solid on the salt monster, it's such a McCoy centric episode). I shall think on it. The Horta and the face huggers that make Spock blind are a fun idea too, but may stretch my skill in drawing inter species sex scenes lol

I'd love more thoughts regarding the other characters tho!! It's very triumvirate focused rn.

Scotty options that come to mind:

If I can find a way to draw the Jack the Ripper ghost alien, that'd rule, but if not they're just humans

Could be fun to draw him hate fucking the Greek god guy who was flirting with the girl Scotty was sweet on

I think the guy he gets drunk on green with is too human

V'ger

Uhura

Did they ever focus on Uhura for an episode?

Genuinely I can't think of a time she had any connection with an alien

Help me

Like, the Harry Mudd androids look human, but maybe I could make that work!

What did the aliens who made her kiss Kirk look like? I think they were very human-y too

Sulu

I do not want to draw him fucking the unicorn dog

Abe Lincoln is a good pitch for this, but I don't remember the episode so I'll have to check

He's on a lot of away missions. Did he meet Trelane?

They're both human-looking tho. Please send Sulu ideas

Chekhov

He made out with that orange looking lady on the slave fighting planet, he's covered

But if you can think of a more interesting one then go for it

Chapel

Okay so we def need a different idea for Uhura's scene cos Chapel is gonna be fucking her dead robot fiance

And in terms of the three;

Kirk

Gorn and you're not gonna talk me out of it

McCoy

Salt monster, same as above lol

Spock

Horta

Pain inducing pancakes where he went blind

Romulan commander

Big brain aliens from the cage with Pike

Showing the naive lot from the Apple how to fuck

The hippies were humans from memory, so I'm not too interested in that. Although I suppose Spock is the alien in this shot so it could get more flexible... I dunno tho I wanna draw some messed up sex

The big ass monsters that throw rocks in Galileo Seven is great but they're off screen so no one will recognise what I draw!

Wanna do an art series that's nasty sex scenes between the star trek TOS crew and various aliens they met along the way

Kirk riding the Gorn

McCoy lovingly fucking the salt monster (phaser to her throat 😭)

Spock laying on the Horta? Or maybe getting it on w the romulan commander. Or those big brain guys he gave Captain Pike to

Who else had some alien time? Scotty had some funnn tension with the Greek god guy. I can't even remember the other aliens.

Obviously there's a lot you could put Kirk into. And I think there's something to the idea of Spock and McCoy tonguing while wrapped up inside the Companion

Maybe this is a chance to watch tos again and come up with sex scenes I can draw lol

I will take suggestions!

[tagarilaghost]

I SWEAR CELEBI'S THINGY IS COMING SOON BUT I REALLY WANTED TO POST THIS ALRIGHT

yeaah... future trio got me too...

and Darkrai is there too, because of course he is.

hey look i drew a cute Drifloon :D

...ignore the rest

whatever started at Darkrai doodles ended in brainrot of future trio + darkrai and I'm blaming @scribz-ag24 for this

[hawkstincan]

my rewatch got to season 8

[yayforocs]

👉👈 so @silverskye13 i saw this and..............

had to make an aron helsmet!!!!!! this was really hecking fun to think about actually like what she'd be like n design (which. is a poke at the rp server she was from actually) and also made me sit down and think more on my other minecraft ocs i have sittin around and why they ended up getting redesigns lkdsfh BUT YEAH i!!!!!!!! aron!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[pa-pa-plasma]

kind of frustrating that people took "fat does not equal unhealthy" to mean "fat is not unhealthy." sometimes being obese IS unhealthy & excess fat can cause a lot of problems. ignoring health issues isn't progressive. real "oranges kill people with depression" moment

[crossbackpoke-check]

56 and any Yamo pairing! 🫶

i just wheezed so hard when i saw what the song was i almost snorted coffee out of my nose i am so sorry for this one

#56 - kyoto phoebe bridgers + yamo

the story of how this song ended up on my wrapped is too long so it’s going in the tags but. let me set the scene for you.

2026 NHL GLOBAL SERIES™️ JAPAN - Presented by YPPI

November 13 & 14, 2026: Dallas Stars, Montreal Canadiens, Seattle Kraken, Vancouver Canucks

Saitama Super Arena, Saitama, Japan

It’s a pitiful excuse of a consolation prize for not being able to go to the Olympics, but Kailer’s not going to look a vacation horse in the mouth. The arena’s cool. It’s huge. The people are cool. There’s so many more of them than he thought there’d be with jerseys that have his name on the back, and a lot more that have the familiar orange and blue. He takes a picture of the fifth Oilers Yamamoto jersey he signs—this one’s the good Reverse Retro—and texts it to Connor, says,

no one here has even heard of mcjesus

and gets a moon face emoji in response. Leon’s influence. Kailer’s still never really deciphered what that one means, and he doesn’t think Connor knows either.

They don’t have a lot of time off between games, but Kailer’s trying to be a good tourist. His dad had been so happy when Kailer had told him about the series that Kailer’d had to stop him from trying to book a flight a year in advance, and his mom’s been just as bad, sending him every article she sees about Best New Spot in Tokyo! Cool Restaurant! Have You Seen This Japanese Cat Café? that she scrolls across on Facebook since June. Suzy’s in the same boat, so they’ve been crossing off their compiled travel-guide list together, looping in as many guys as they can. Everyone’s been pretty game. All the teams are crammed into close quarters at the same hotel, which means everyone wants to spend as much time as possible outside of it, and it helps that Kailer’s gotten pretty close with all the other guys that the NHL picked up as Global Series figureheads. Robo’s memes? Absolutely fire. The groupchat loves them.

For every item he crosses off the list, Kailer takes a picture and keeps it tucked in his phone notes. It’s like speed-running a scavenger hunt—they’re only here for four days—but he’s doing a pretty good job. His favorite so far has been all the gardens. They’re stunning, trees shining bright red and yellow, and every vendor has been selling maple candies, maple cakes, and even fried maple, though the official maple festival doesn’t start until next week. The second garden he visits, he does it on his own after practice, buying two cakes from a cart near the gate and walking until he loses the bustle outside. It’s easy to get lost in the winding pathways, heading deeper into the quiet, and there’s dozens of benches underneath the burnished leaves where young couples are tucked away on dates, or old friends are laughing and catching up. In some of the little clearings, there’s small shrines where people leave offerings, a prayer for good luck or good fortune.

Kailer stops at one without any people and sets the second maple cake on top of it, then sits and scrolls through all the texts that he’s missed. His mom gets replied to with a picture of him outside the garden gate, grinning and surrounded by other travelers. He sends his brother a picture of a trashy graphic I Love Japan t-shirt with the threat that he’ll buy one for him, and Kailer’s dad gets a picture of the meticulously arranged and cut bonsai that are across from the bench where he’s sitting. The Seattle groupchat gets a recycled meme from Robo, and he gets two thumbs up and an “LMAO” before he can even exit the thread. Finally, Kailer takes a picture of the half-eaten maple cake in his hand, holding it next to a fallen maple leaf on the bench, and gets halfway through typing another message before he thinks better of it.

(On the plane over, Drieds was reading them a story about how when they first introduced the high-speed railway, people were afraid to use it because they thought it would be too fast for their souls to keep up.

“Bro, if that were true, you just left your soul in the middle of the Pacific,” Ebs had laughed. “Planes are faster than trains.”

“Are they?” Matty asked. “Isn’t the train in Japan the fastest in the world?”

Drieds couldn’t make it through the rest of the story over the sound of everyone ripping Matty to shreds, so Kailer didn’t get to ask whether or not they found out anything about planes. Kailer’s not worried about his soul, but the logic makes a strange kind of sense; after all, he traveled 429 miles in five and a half hours once, and that was a little too fast for his heart to keep up.)

Fuck it. Kailer’s been trying to write a response for the past ten days, and he’s sick of swiping in and out of the message, staring at the keyboard so long he starts to see swirls in his vision.

Kailer drafts the text again and sends it, no context, no caption. A text travels faster than a high-speed train or a jet. Maybe it’ll pick his heart back up on the way.