#makes sense that one always seemed like/// a little MORE than the others if that makes sense

[lexirosewrites]

Day One: Courting Rituals

for @stmarchmm

Before Eddie officially starts courting Steve, they’re together nearly every day.

Steve tends to hang at the trailer and watch movies with the alpha. Sometimes they go to the arcade with the kids or they host a DnD night at Steve’s place.

Everyone can see that they’re inseparable.

Robin even lightheartedly complains about how Robin and Steve time became Robin and Steve and Eddie time.

Steve wants to be around his new friend constantly and Eddie seems to want the same thing.

So they’re always together.

The funny thing is that Steve doesn’t even recall it becoming more than a friendship.

One day, they’re goofing off, cracking jokes, and getting high on Eddie’s rooftop.

The next, they’re holding hands at the movies and sharing milkshakes at the diner.

It’s an easy transition.

When people start asking about labels (Joyce keeps prodding Steve, reminding him that dating an alpha without clear intentions is a dangerous affair), Eddie beats him to the punch with a traditional bouquet of flowers.

Wildflowers. Hand-picked, colorful, and unique just like Eddie.

He’s received many attempted courting presents before, but these are Steve’s favorites.

Of course he agrees immediately to the unspoken request and that makes things between them official.

They can spend all the time in the world together now without speculation or judgement!

Only… now Eddie is barely around.

It makes no sense to Steve (or the other half of his brain, Robin). They’d been attached at the hip when it was casual and now that it’s serious, Eddie just up and disappears?

Steve is more than a little hurt, but he tries to be reasonable.

Maybe Eddie saw their official courting as a victory and he no longer has to work so hard to get Steve’s attention. Now he can put some space between them.

Or…

Maybe Eddie changed his mind.

Maybe Steve isn’t what he wants anymore and he’s delaying the pain of breaking it off by avoiding him entirely.

The uncertainty eats away at Steve. It’s one too many cancelled plans, dropped calls, and flimsy excuses.

Steve storms into the Munson trailer at 9PM, beyond panicking when Eddie didn’t answer his phone call they’d agreed to have at 8:30.

Eddie’s van is in the driveway.

In his rush to check for Eddie’s vehicle, he’d apparently missed Wayne’s truck.

“Evenin’, Steve. Eddie expectin’ ya?”

Steve’s anger deflates slightly in the face of the man he assumed would be as good as family soon.

Wayne has always been kind to him.

“No, I guess not. He was supposed to call me half an hour ago. I even tried ringing, but nobody picked up. I got—”

Paranoid. Angry. Hurt. Devastated.

“Worried. I was worried about him,” Steve explains truthfully.

Wayne pats the free spot on the couch next to him.

He hesitates.

If Eddie’s in his bedroom and willfully ignoring his calls, Steve would rather get this break-up over with.

The quicker his hearts breaks, the quicker he can start repairing it.

He sits anyway.

“I’m sure he lost track of the day again. Been happenin’ more and more lately.”

Wayne’s never lied to Steve before. It’s hard to imagine he’d start now.

“I just thought Eddie would want to be with me more since we started courting. It feels like he’s too busy to even see me anymore,” Steve confesses, a little shocked at his own honesty.

Wayne has that effect on people.

The old man hums thoughtfully, not outright agreeing or disagreeing.

“If there’s one thing I know about my boy, it’s that he’d give anything to spend every moment of every day with you, kid. He may not always do it perfectly, but Eddie loves you, Steve. Trust that much.”

He snorts.

“Well, he has a funny way of showing it these days. He used to at least make time for me, Wayne. Now, he’s practically avoiding me entirely. How else am I supposed to interpret that?”

The wrinkles of Wayne’s brow furrow deeper.

“Have you… really talked to him recently?”

Steve shakes his head briefly, trying not to let the tears fall.

“That would require him to pick up the phone for anything other than cancelling our plans.”

“Ah. I see.”

Wayne lets out a hearty laugh and Steve has to wonder whether Eddie’s uncle has lost his mind entirely.

“You should go see your alpha,” Wayne advises him with a smile. “Ease your troubled mind, omega.”

“What?”

“Go on, Steve. Just try not to startle him. That silly boy hardly sleeps as it is… I’ve got the night shift, but I trust you two won’t start on grandpups if I leave ya alone here?”

Steve nods frantically. His face is more than flushed at the idea of starting a family right now.

He’s not sure Eddie likes him anymore, let alone loves him enough to do that with him.

“Yes, sir.”

Wayne stands with a reassuring pat on Steve’s back, heading for the door after a pitstop for his keys.

“Goodnight, Steve.”

“Night, Wayne.”

He stays on the couch by himself a little longer, working up the nerve to go confront whatever is waiting for him in Eddie’s silent bedroom.

Steve would rather face another demogorgon than deal with Eddie’s incoming rejection.

Still, he promised Wayne.

He treads lightly on the creaky floors until he reaches Eddie’s bedroom.

It used to be a place Steve loved being. Full of Eddie’s personality and warmth. Smelling strongly of his loving alpha. Music always playing on the radio or turntable.

He turns the handle slowly, heeding Wayne’s advice to not startle Eddie.

It ends up not being an issue since his boyfriend is completely dead to the world, deep in sleep.

Weirdly enough, he’s still dressed. On top of the covers and wrapped around a box that Steve’s never seen.

Steve doesn’t flip the lights on, but he leaves the door open enough to light his way so he can come further into the room.

His hands move of their own accord, reaching for Eddie despite his brain saying it’s a bad idea.

Instead of a t-shirt, he touches a collared button down.

Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen Eddie in anything so formal.

It’s a short sleeve shirt, but looks like nothing the alpha would ever choose to wear.

His fingers continue to wander until he finds a patch on Eddie’s chest. It’s ironed haphazardly.

He gets close enough to read.

‘Eddie.’ A name tag?

Steve continues to search Eddie’s shirt silently. He finds more words. Embroidering on the pocket states ‘Dan’s Auto.’

Dan’s Auto Shop is a garage in the next town over. Steve’s taken his own car there before. It’s decent, if a little rundown.

Does Eddie… work there?

Eddie has never held an honest to god job. Selling drugs to locals? Sure. But never a 9-5 blue collar hourly rate.

Why would he get a job and hide it from Steve?

Steve’s heart can’t take the suspense. He reaches for the strange box without care.

What’s inside makes him freeze.

A handcrafted brown leather collar with Steve’s name burned into it. And a ring. Simple, beautiful, elegant.

It matches Steve’s tastes exactly.

It has to be for him.

Steve lets out a shriek of surprise when an arm appears around his waist.

He’s pulled down onto the bed, Eddie’s strong hold tucking Steve right back against the alpha and keeping him in place there.

“Hi there, sweetheart.”

“Hi alpha.”

Steve doesn’t mention the missed phone call. Or the cancelled dates.

He’s missed his alpha too much to hold a grudge over such silly things.

In the morning, they’ll have a long and important conversation about proper communication and how Eddie doesn’t need to buy Steve any more fancy courting presents in order to impress him because he’s already in love.

Tonight, they just sleep peacefully in each other’s arms as (almost) mates.

[holyguardian]

Aerith almost cast a wide-eyed look to Somnus as he was egged on to join her. This was all new to her — she understood he had a less than shining reputation among Lucian circles. Something that made no sense to her whatsoever. Though it wasn't a sentiment that his troops shared, right...?

The cheers and clapping all seemed to be in good fun. And Somnus himself didn't seem bothered being made into a spectacle, so she relaxed more into the moment.

There was a smile playing on her lips as she regarded her husband across from her. His head was bowed, his voice quietened. Though the light-hearted expression on his face was all the reassurance she needed. "At least you know better than to ask for mercy where you will not find it." she playfully commented, earning loud crows of support from the Lucian men and women gathered. Meek smiles had turned to grins.

She was gracious, she answered each of his questions fairly, even offered hints of advice without prompting. And yet she did not hold back. Their decks were equally matched. Neither one of them had a chance at holding cards that the other would not have, this wasn't an official competition, it was a playful game with mere starter decks.

Somehow she made it feel like she had the upper-hand at every turn. There were no draws. She baited him into a lane with an easy to turn card, and devastated him at his flank, stealing it all from him. The final tally was brutal. All three coins were placed with her. In the aftermath, she even caught that mention of Somnus being treated like a dirty dog and had the good grace to cover her mouth laughing. There was a pink tinge in her cheeks. She was only a little embarrassed being called out herself.

"I'm nice, I swear." Aerith insisted with her hands raised in defence. Though she was met with an encouraging pat on her back from none other than Leander, who grinned at her so warmly.

"You're also an inspiration to the troops!" Leander encouraged, making a gesture to their dear Prince. "For too long we have been demolished on a chess board. This is a new beginning, where we have equal footing to challenge Prince Somnus to a game of Queen's Blood."

Leander offered a wink to Somnus. It was all in good fun, and the Princess seemed to be at ease among them.

That was until she stood so suddenly the chair clattered and would have tipped had it not been for Leander's quick reflex. His head whipped to her and she looked... well, like she had seen a ghost. Something that half made sense when his gaze shifted to the face that pulled that reaction from her.

Loukas stood there. Dark circles stained under his eyes and he looked a little thinner in his face — he was already scrawny enough, yet in his teenage years. Whatever words he had meant to say to the Princess were swallowed into the moment of quiet that fell around them.

Though Aerith didn't need rescuing. After all, it had been her own sudden reaction that made a normal moment feel awkward. Softening, she stepped closer to the familiar soldier, and pulled him into a sudden embrace.

He immediately bowed his head, and a moment later his arms lifted to return the hug. She remembered him. And he would always remember what she had done for his family... when he pulled back, he managed a half-smile. "You are nice." that his quietened voice could be heard was a testament to how still the Lucian side of the barracks had fallen. Though small murmurs began to stir again. Then his eyes fell to Prince Somnus. "May I have the next turn?" At that, the murmurs picked up to encouraging words, egging the Prince of Lucis yet again to agree. As if he could have denied Nikolaos' little brother.

Leander was still Leander. It sounded strange, but having spent so many days apart, part of Somnus had bene nervous that his best friend would be upset at him. For not even seeking him out once. If any of this had given him even a moment of pause, he would have ran to Leander first, though.

To rant, to get input, advice – and drink some wine while mulling about the future.

Now they would have to catch up on all this right now.

Standing beside Leander as Aerith started to explain all the rules of her favourite game, Somnus felt as if the tensions and weights of the past days simply slipped off of his shoulders. Like they were nothing more than the woolen coat Aerith was already discarding. Standing here, they could simply pretend they… belonged. And he hoped Aerith would feel the same kind of relaxation among all the soldiers.

Shooting Leander another amused glance, Somnus nodded: “I am good, Ser.”

Really. It were the same undertones. They knew each other for years now, Leander would know that Somnus was answering honestly. It might come as a surprise. From the outside he was forced into an arranged marriage and shipped far off from home, about to be thrown into a war. But to Somnus… it felt like a new chapter that he could finally write himself, not have others write it for him.

He could not wait until he could tell Leander all of this and about how lucky he was to be arranged to marry someone, who… understood.

Well, part of him hoped this evening would already be enough for Leander to realize how special Aerith was to him. And vice versa.

Though of course Leander had to throw him beneath the Chocobocart. Somnus shook his head with a laugh, but there was no way he could escape this now. Everyone had heard Leander and they cheered him to sit down opposite of the Princess. If this were any other setting, he would have bristled at it all. But… this was easy. Being shoved by his best friend’s hand and sitting down across his wife, who looked at him expectantly. And… was that mischief in her green eyes?

He remembered her threat and promise of destroying him in this game one day. He could win in chess, but this here was her battleground now.

“Look at how much they want you to destroy me… I hope you give them a show.”, he looked at Aerith from beneath his dark strands, with his head bowed a little.

She had explained the rules of this game and yet Somnus had to ask some more questions as they started to play. In the beginning it was complicated. But… it added up. It was tactical. And there was part of luck at play, too. With every draw, Somnus could hear the soldiers behind himself squabbling closer and whispering tipps and what to do next. The same happened to Aerith on her side. Though they definitely were quieter there, because Aerith obviously knew what she was doing – and absolutely dominating this game. Somnus could not but grin at his ‘bad luck’ and how he lost coin after coin to Aerith. There was laughter coming from the soldiers. Some hollered comments. That it was quite clear, who would rule this marriage. The mention of a certain scene in a tent with an almost-naked prince being hosed down like a dirty dog was enough to cause a whole barrage of laughs and some clanking cups of wine.

It was teasing at Somnus’ expense, and yet he did not mind it at all. Not here, not with them, not for her.

“Ah, you all have no idea how happy I am, that my beloved wife only set a honey cake for her victory – seems she could have won my last tunic from me.”

[sosa2imagines]

Finding you again... Part 1

Warning- Hydra, torture, slap, mentions of kidnapping, getting stabbed, angst.

You don’t remember how long you’ve been here. Days, months, years, it all blends into a blur of sterile hallways and cold, fluorescent lighting. You were taken by Hydra, forced into their web of control and obedience.

You were nothing but a tool to them, a pawn in their game Alexander Pierce made it clear from the start, you were to obey, to serve their cause, and above all, to ensure his weapon was maintained.

The Winter Soldier.

They called him that, never by a name, never as a person. To them, he was a machine, a tool to be used and discarded.

But to you?

To you, he was more than that. Beneath the blank stares, the mechanical precision, and the programmed responses, you saw fragments of something else. Someone else.

The first time they let you care for him, you had whispered, “You’re not a machine. You're human.” He didn’t react, but you saw it, a flicker of something deep within those stormy blue eyes. A spark. It was enough to make you believe he was still in there, buried under layers of pain and conditioning.

Days passed, and despite the cold treatment from others, you treated him with kindness, offering soft words, gentle touches, and, when no one was watching, a bit of warmth that had long since been stripped from him. You tended to his wounds, cleaned the blood from his hands, and tried to remind him, in the smallest ways, that he wasn't alone.

But as you tended to his wounds and cared for his needs, you couldn't help but see glimpses of the man he used to be. The Winter Soldier was a blank slate, a weapon without a past, but you could sense that somewhere deep inside him, a spark of humanity remained. Every stolen glance, every subtle movement, and every whispered word you shared felt like a small victory over the darkness that had consumed him.

As the days turned into weeks, your bond grew stronger. You found yourself talking to him, telling him stories, and sharing bits and pieces of your own life. He rarely responded, but you could see that he was listening, that he was taking in every word you said. The blankness in his eyes seemed a little less empty, and his touch, while still mechanical, felt a bit gentler, as if he was carefully testing the waters of human connection.

One night, as you were checking his injuries, you noticed his hand was trembling slightly. A rare show of vulnerability. You gently took his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers with his. For the first time, he didn't pull away. Instead, he held on, his grip firm, as if he was afraid you would disappear if he let go.

In those silent moments, the world outside faded away. You could almost forget that you were trapped in this labyrinth of pain and control. You could almost see a future where he wasn't a weapon, and you weren't a prisoner. But deep down, you knew that this fragile connection could easily be shattered by a single order from Alexander Pierce.

And you were right, because Hydra was relentless.

One day, after a failed mission, the air in the control room was tense. Pierce was furious. The Winter Soldier sat stoically in the center, still bloodied, from the bridge fight with Captain America and his friends. His chest heaved slightly, his face an unreadable mask, but you knew he was processing, trying to make sense of what he saw, of who he saw.

“Who was the man on the bridge?” Pierce's voice was sharp, grating.

The Soldier said nothing, eyes downcast.

Pierce stepped forward, the sound of his polished shoes echoing in the room. Without hesitation, his hand flew, striking the Soldier hard across the face. The crack of impact made your stomach churn, but the Soldier didn’t flinch, just sat there, accepting it like he always did.

That was the moment something inside you snapped.

“Stop it!” you blurted out before you could think. The entire room fell silent. Pierce turned slowly, his cold, calculating eyes narrowing in on you.

“What did you say?” His voice was deadly quiet, but you stood your ground.

“I said stop it…” you repeated, stepping between them. “He’s done enough. He’s been through enough. He’s not a machine, sir, and you know it!”

Pierce’s lips curled into a cruel smile, his amusement short-lived. “Ah,” he mused, circling you like a predator, “I see the little pet has grown some claws.” Without warning, he struck. A flash of silver, the sting of cold steel against your skin.

You gasped, your scream getting stuck in your throat, staggering backward as pain blossomed across your stomach. A deep, searing cut traced from just below your belly to the very edge of your panties, the fabric dampening with blood almost instantly. You clutched your abdomen, vision blurring as you sank to your knees.

The Soldier didn’t move, didn’t react, not yet. Not until Pierce barked, “Wipe him!”

The technicians stepped in, forcing him into the chair, metal restraints clamping down around his limbs. He didn’t fight, but his eyes met yours just before the device powered up. A flash of recognition, a sliver of something almost… concerned. Then the light enveloped him, and just like that, whatever was left of him was gone.

You tried to focus through the haze of pain, tried to stay conscious as Pierce loomed over you with a smirk. “Let’s see how well he takes orders, shall we?” he said before turning to the now-blank Soldier.

“Stitch her up.”

The Soldier stood, moving with mechanical precision, collecting the medical kit from the table. You wanted to protest, to push him away, but you couldn't. Instead, you watched through half-lidded eyes as he knelt beside you, his metal hand pressing you down, keeping you still. His flesh hand hovered over your wound, steady and unfeeling.

As he threaded the needle and began stitching your torn skin with clinical efficiency, you couldn't help but whisper, voice trembling, “You’re still in there... I know it...”

He didn’t respond. His hands moved without hesitation, each pull of the thread sealing the wound but leaving your heart aching. The man you’d come to believe in, the one you saw glimmers of hope within, was gone, wiped clean like a slate.

But even as the pain pulled you into darkness, you held onto one thought.

You wouldn’t give up on him. Not now. Not ever.

Your Winter.

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[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

"WHY WON'T YOU ANSWER ME!"

Vodou or Voodoo!reader x platonic Yandere batfam

You haven't gotten out of bed in days, lying there rotting away like a bone. Your amulet, once vibrant purple, is now dusty and dark. Your bedroom is cold, and your altar is neglected; the candles are out. You haven’t put food there, fixed the tablecloth, or done anything. You haven’t prayed or performed a ceremonial dance. You've never been this depressed, this sad, or this angry; you're in despair. Ever since arriving at the mansion, you've felt your life and soul being sucked out, which is strange—you were so lively before. You feel dead, yet you can hear the chatter and laughter downstairs seeping through your thick walls. Usually, you drown it out, but today you listen. You can feel their smiles, their joy, their anger—everything, yet you're not present.

“Why don’t you go down there?” a spirit says, its ghostly hand caressing your shoulder.

“They don’t want me there; you know that already,” you say, your voice cracks. Of course it did; you were crying for hours, maybe even longer, but better not count. “Don’t be like that; they’re your family.”

You scoff at what the spirit says. You want to slap its hand away, but you obviously can't touch it; you can't even feel it, just the cold air that caresses your dark skin.

“I’ll only ruin it,” you say, hovering overhead, letting your despair consume you. If you continue like this, how will you become a great Priestess? Your altar has no gifts, no offerings. You haven’t fixed your hair in days; you haven’t sent us anything, and we love your voice. “Please, my child,” the spirit pleads, “you do not want to go down there. At least do something.”

You don’t answer again. You curl up into a ball. The spirit sighs. “As you wish, young Priestess,” and they disappear into purple smoke. But all you can think about, deep in your head, is that it just isn’t fair. You’re a nice kid; you’re sweet, you’re kind, you’re honest, you’re polite—the nicest of them all. Even if there was a niceness contest, you’d come out on top, leaving everybody in your wake. But your father seems to favor the ones who are cruel, mean, and rude. Your younger brother, Damian—a little devil, held you at swordpoint, threatened to kill you, called you a bastard, and you’re supposed to forgive him with open arms? What kind of idiot does Bruce take you for?

And your older brother, who prides himself on family, barely even knows you—the sucker might have to look up your middle name, maybe even your birthday, on some celebrity website. He’s always spending time with the little devil; you have no clue why. You’re way more fun to hang out with than him. But who cares? And your second eldest brother is rude, scary, and he smells like pure death, as if he crawled out of his grave, clutching dirt from the ground beneath him. It makes sense—his eyes are naturally green, just like Damian's, but he’s alive. It just doesn’t make sense. Maybe Papa Legba, but him cross without knowing.

And the brother who is the same age as you, Timothy, makes you snore when you hear his name. He’s intellectual, so smart, and yet so stupid, so dumb, and so hypocritical. He’ll find everything and anything to correct you on, even if you’re right, just to ensure that you’re slightly off the mark. The brother you thought you would have an unbreakable bond with is so tight he cut off blood circulation; yet, this bond is flimsier than a piece of string. He’s always talking with Cass, and you're never invited. You have more in common than they think, but to them, you’re just another bastard of Bruce Wayne—Cass, Steph, and Babs are your sisters. You’re supposed to gossip, talk about boys, play hand games, and hold each other, but they are only close with each other and not you.

I mean, trios were never meant to be broken; who even wants a quartet? You pray to Bondye every night. You expel all the darkness within your amulet, and your wishes are always the same each night: “Please, Supreme Lord, let them greet me with open arms; let them see me as their kin; let them love me; let them notice me.” But each night, you are met with nothing but silence. Bondye is quiet, and so are the loa. They always talked to you, but whenever you beg for this family to see you, they can never answer; they can never give advice. At first, you thought it was a test—a series of trials you had to go through to prove that you were worthy of their love. So whenever you were met with hostility, it was like the sharp end of a blade. Mom and Dad did see you before you opened your arms to them; the trials got harder, and it started to become impossible.

Maybe I have to go in a different direction; maybe meet force with force. But then you get scolded. Maybe you just don’t fight back, but if you don’t, then you will be forgotten. So what next? How do you pass this test, these everlasting trials? You have no clue, no idea, and in fact, you feel lost, and you start to lose faith. Maybe you were just not meant to be loved; you weren’t meant for affection, you weren’t meant to be held, dear. So you let that bitterness and anger swallow you whole as you wallow in your own sorrow and self-pity. This young High Priestess is filled with hurt.

[meanbossart]

ASK COMPILATION: SHADOWCUTE, EGALITATION DU DROW, THE MAN WHO HAS NEVER HAD A COLD AND PROMISES OF FROTTING.

ALL I CAN DO FOR TONIGHT FOLKS, but I might end up doing another compilation very soon since the inbox situation is dire 💀

Thank you so much for showing so much interest in my character and my art! And an extra especial Thank You as always to anyone who has taken the time to leave a nice compliment or words of encouragement in my mail!

Now, onto the debauchery.

Surprisingly, no! While they may have been stuck at the hip since the early game, DU drow most definitely wasn't interested in becoming intimately involved with anyone at that stage - having lost all of his memories and seemingly kidnapped by mindflayers and all, he was a little on edge. Besides, Shadowheart struck him as rather juvenile in the earlier game, which kind of erased any possibility of his interest in her growing. By the time she """matures""" in DU drow's eyes he was already locked in with Astarion, and their friendship was also firmly established.

He did not. I think if he had been more observant as a Bhaalist he could have put two-and-two together - but he was far too self absorbed for that. He is under the impression that Helena (Orin's mother) had a divine pregnancy.

Besides women more often falling into a category that he is sexually attracted to (which doesn't affect his treatment of them by much either as long as he and Astarion are together, he may just steal a glance down their shirt or something) not really!

He has specific prejudices about women from the drow race for the same reasons everyone else has, but otherwise sex or gender doesn't impact his views. The one exception I can think of that may apply here is that he has a slight soft spot for mothers.

And don't worry, your english is perfectly fine!

Hello! I have gotten an ask about this before where I went much more in-depth, but I can't find it right now. The TLDR is that he doesn't care as long as you can still "pull your weight" outside of whatever the disability is. How reasonable his expectations are vary on how much he likes the person in question, but generally speaking he doesn't care and this would be something that bears much less weight than race or attitude - if they don't make it into a problem, he just won't bring it up.

He does have a vile sense of humor though; that might come up if he's trying to hurt someone's pride or, ironically, has built enough of a rapport with that he's comfortable joking around about such things with them.

Have a great day yourself!

I don't think there is anything wrong with relating to fictional characters, even if they are profoundly flawed or even straight up evil. Hopefully that's a vehicle for self-examination and introspection - after all, we are all flawed ourselves.

Honestly it is very hard for me to picture him old, at least in the conventional sense.

Truthfully, I am preeeeetty settled on DU drow being an immortal being at this point. I think it makes sense that Bhaal would have just stopped his aging at some point so he can be at peak performance while following through with his bidding, and that just seems to make sense to me based on prior BG lore. He changes over-time in other ways that I most certainly plan on drawing, but it might take a while for me to get there!

LOL, I think he retained knowledge of illness and disease just fine, so if he were to come down with something he wouldn't panic - probably quite the opposite. He strikes me as the kind of guy who wouldn't walk into a hospital unless a limb was dangling off by an artery - and even then, his friends probably had to insist he went.

Luckily he must has the immune system of vulture after so many years of eating half-cooked wild animals and rolling around in the cold dirt, so he very rarely contracts disease. When he does, he likely just tries his best to hide it or dismiss the concerns of anyone around him about it.

I'm glad to hear that! I remember being concerned that DU drow's scars may get read as rather exploitative or disrespectful when my art first started getting traction - I'm relieved that not only that seems to never have happened, but that people like yourself can actually gain some self-confidence from it!

Listen now that I know that there is an audience for it -

I'm not sure how I feel about simply making a book with art that already exists online and charging people money for it - especially when I have prints for sale that are most definitely of better quality than a zine and can actually serve to decorate your home! But I suppose if an opportunity like that popped up and it made sense, I don't see why not!

Oh he hates her guts, LOL. He would respect The Hag Grind for the pure comedy of it if she weren't so disgusting to look at or so unpleasant to talk to. He's particularly irate at her during act 3 when she tries to trick him into killing that little girl's mother, since he almost follows through with it (one of my few moments of lore save-scumming because I felt like SUCH an idiot).

He definitely didn't take up on her offer in act 1 for the failed tadpole treatment!

And as a bonus, here are some Viscious Mockery inspired taunts Ethel definitely bombarded him with during every fight.

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

AEGON RAILING HIS LITTLE SISTER OUT OF RAGE 😩💅

uh...y-yeah...*cough*

Summary: Aegon's wife decides to play a little game, knowing fully well what the consequences will be.

Warnings: Targcest (brother-sister incest), jealousy, toxic relationships, SMUT (MINORS DNI), slapping, choking, rough oral (m!receiving), lots of dirty talk, use of "my king," degradation, breath play, dacryphilia, and breeding kink

word count || 3.2k🤙🏻

Aegon scowled as he watched his bastard nephew, Jace, offer his hand to you, his dear sister-wife. He almost widened his eyes in shock when you actually took it.

It had been a relatively nice night, considering the whole family was packed together in one room. When the late Vaemond Velaryon called into question prince Lucerys’ claim to the Driftwood throne, his elder sister and supposed heir to the Iron Throne, Rhaenyra, and the rest of her brood swiftly sailed back to King’s Landing from Dragonstone to plead to let the bastard remain heir, to claim what was never his in the first place. Even a blind man could see he wasn’t the spawn of Ser Laenor, same with Jacaerys; the Strong bastards they were called, even if it was a quite ironic insult considering how much weaker they were than Aemond and himself. 

And now, that mockery of a bastard heir was asking to dance with Aegon’s wife.

Aegon’s eyes flitted to his brother’s, both looking to each other in slight shock and offence. What are you going to do about it, Aemond’s gaze seemed to ask silently. It’s not as though Aegon could separate the bastard’s head from his shoulders, not with the whole family there watching. Oh, Aegon wanted to though. He wanted to cut his nephew down for even daring to set a single glance on his precious sister. 

What was worse, though, you seemed to enjoy it.

A marriage to your brother, Aegon, wasn’t the worst arrangement in the world, and that was a shock to yourself as well. You were the youngest of Alicent's children, and you were sure that your mother would have your elder brother marry Helaena. In hindsight, you were relieved it wasn’t her, she was too soft, too gentle, and much too innocent for the likes of Aegon. You might’ve been the youngest, but you could hold your own, especially against Aegon.

At first, Aegon wasn’t the kindest to you, he never was. You were the baby, and your mother treated you the best and him the worst. There was always a sort of resentment he held for you, whether he liked to admit it or not, and he often took out his frustrations on you, even as a child. You often heard stories from your other brothers how Aegon would try to harm you as an infant, either accidentally or on purpose, from leaving you unattended when it was his job to look after you at that moment to trying to feed you to his dragon, Sunfyre. It amused you how petty this man could be. He did not want to marry you, he wanted to continue whoring about on the Streets of Silk, not consummate his wedding to you in front of a group of people to make sure his cock was inside you.

You and Aegon often fought, you both often found even the smallest things to fight about just to yell at each other. It was therapeutic, in a way. You would scream at each other, so loud it often woke the whole royal apartments; then you and Aegon would fuck. It was never loving, never romantic; it was purely feral, primal, each of you battered and bruised by the end of the night. When he first deflowered you, you didn’t think you’d like it that much, especially not with him. You were shocked to see how much Aegon actually knew what he was doing, you supposed spending his whole life on the Streets of Silk allowed him to learn some things. 

There came a point in time when Aegon started to feel a bit more protective of you. As a child, he did hate you for a time, but he grew up and matured…well, in some ways. The reasons he hated you started to not make sense to him, so he simply stopped. You were his sister, his wife, and the future mother of his children and possible heirs to the Iron Throne. He grew to love you, but that didn’t mean he would be kind to you all the time, Aegon was still Aegon. But gods, you had him by his balls, and in turn, he often made love to you rather than just fuck you.

So now, you often found ways to make him so mad he fucked you the way you wanted, how things were before. Aegon often went too far in his protectiveness, to the point of obsession. He needed you all to himself, and you knew that. With the little family reunion, you knew the perfect way to get under Aegon’s skin.

You didn’t necessarily hate your nephews, but you didn’t mind throwing them under the bus for your own enjoyment. Jacaerys was a sweet boy, always on your heels as a girl, trying to woo you in hopes your mothers would betroth you to lessen the gap that was between your family, always giving you flowers he found in the gardens and stealing sweets from the kitchens to surprise you with a makeshift picnic. It was nice, but you were never interested, you were more interested in the sweets he brought you to be honest, and the flowers you’d always give to your maids instead. Now, he was a man grown, and quite handsome and you figured you wouldn’t be disgusted if you had in fact married him; and from the looks he kept giving you, it seemed his little crush didn’t lessen a bit, even though he was now betrothed himself.

You hid your smirk by sipping on your wine, the alcohol making you bolder than you normally would be in public. You smiled sweetly at Jace, and he took that as a sign to ask you for a dance.

You discreetly eyed Aegon, satisfied to see his sour expression as you took Jace’s palm in yours, allowing him to help you up from your seat and bringing you to the open floor, promptly taking your first steps into a comfortable dance. You held Jace by his shoulder, your other hand in his, spinning each other around as the music flowed. He was actually a decent dance partner, a content smile decorating your face, but only widened when you saw Aegon scowling from the corner of your eye.

“Still only using me for your own schemes, eh?” Jacaerys broke the silence between you, catching you by surprise. “It seems not much has changed since we were little.”

You laughed through your nose. “And it seems you’ve only gotten more clever, nephew.”

“Unlike some, I know when my feelings aren’t reciprocated. It was hard as a boy, but I know better now.”

“Is that so? So, why are you dancing with me and not your new betrothed?”

“It’s simple, really.” Jace smirked as he leaned in close to whisper in your ear, “To anger my uncle.”

You giggled. “And why in the Seven Hells would you do such a thing? You only did so as a child.”

Jace shrugged. “I guess some things will never change.”

Some things do never change, including past resentments from others. One little giggle from Lucerys directed at Aemond, and all hells broke loose. Over a pig…a bloody pig. You didn’t really understand it, but to be fair, what happened to Aemond didn’t happen to you. You weren’t even there that night little Luke took his eye, but what was certain is that he still hated him and he wasn’t afraid to show it. A fight broke out, and Jacaerys quickly discarded your dance in favor of punching your brother in the face, which only managed to make Aemond angrier…and your husband.

After the fight was broken up, everyone was sent to their quarters. But Aegon grabbed you by your upper arm and practically dragged you to your apartments. “How dare you!” He shouted as soon as he closed the door behind him.

“I don’t know what you mean, my love.” You feigned innocence, batting your eyelashes bashfully.

Aegon scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t play the fool with me, you knew exactly what you were doing. Jacaerys? Really? You willingly dance with the enemy?”

Now it was your turn to scoff. “Enemy? He’s our nephew.”

“Fine. You willingly dance with someone who is not your husband!” He seethed, he grabbed you by your neck, pulling you close, your breasts uncomfortably pressing against his chest. “You dare embarrass me like that, in front of all those people.”

“You embarrass yourself in front of the whole Keep every day, what’s one more to add to the list?” You choked out, making Aegon’s eyes darken, and a chill shot down your spine. You hadn’t seen him this mad since the days after taking your vows…it made your cunt incredibly wet.

Aegon raised his hand to you, slapping you across your cheek and immediately marking it a bright red, making you yelp and your head spin. “Ah, so you wanna be a little slut for your bastard nephew, is that it?” He slapped you again until your knees gave out and you crumpled to the floor, his firm hand making you look up at him. “Is my cock not good enough for you anymore? You think he can fuck you better than I can?” He pinned you to the stone floor, the thin carpet the only thing cushioned your back. He straddled you, his cock already stiff and pressing against his trousers. “He’s just a boy, a pathetic, worthless bastard, and a whore like you can’t be satisfied with just a boy. You need me, who knows exactly what you need.”

“Aegon-”

“Shut the fuck up, whore!” Aegon yelled in your face, tearing the bodice of your gown right down the middle, exposing your heavy breasts to the cool air, your nipples hardening instantly. He palmed one harshly while unlacing his breeches and freeing his cock, pumping the shaft with his other hand. You winced at the roughness, but your mouth watered at the sight, and you knew Aegon knew you wanted this, from the way your chest heaved with anticipation and the way your pupils dilated to wide you could barely see your irises. “If you don’t choke on this cock, maybe I’ll fuck you. How’s that sound, slut?”

You squealed as Aegon forced his thick cock in your mouth, immediately reaching the back of your throat, bringing tears to your eyes, but you tried not to gag. You had done this enough times to train yourself to take him all, each time you’ve been able to do it for longer, but you were so eager for him to fuck you stupid. “Well, that certainly shut you up, didn’t it?” Aegon chuckled, biting his lip as he gently fucked your mouth, watching your lips stretch around his girth and threatening to crack the skin. “Gods, you always take me so well, don’t you, darling? You want me to fuck you that bad, hmm?”

You moaned around his cock enthusiastically, nodding your head slightly.

“Mm, if only little lord Strong could see you now, taking your husband’s cock so deep in your mouth you can’t even breathe, can you? What do you think he’d say? He’d probably be disgusted by you, a little whore who can’t survive without a cock stuffed into one of her holes. Isn’t that right?”

“Aegon-!” You tried to speak, but he grabbed your throat squeezing hard, and pinched your nose closed so you couldn’t breathe at all, his pace quickening and becoming relentless as he roughly fucked your mouth. You choked and gagged, grunting as your body started to run on instinct, jerking and writhing, trying to grasp for air but finding none. And as you started to become lightheaded and dizzy, your vision fading in and out, Aegon let both of his hands go and removed his cock from your mouth, a loud, shaky gasp echoing from your lips, coughing so hard you were scared you’d bring up your dinner. You sobbed a little, tears streaming from your eyes one after the other.

“Shh, shh, shh.” Aegon wiped away your tears with little finesse, shoving his fingers in your mouth and collecting your spit, circling your nipples before bringing his head down to nip and suckle on them like a babe starved. “On the bed, now.” With little strength, you shakily crawled onto your bed, but now before Aegon discarded the rest of your gown and smallclothes until you were completely bare to his eyes. “Mm, you always were the prettiest of us, weren’t you? You think you can handle more, slut?”

You nodded your head, “Please.”

“Using your manners, now? What a surprise. I didn’t think my cock would tame you that easily. You want me, darling? Not Jacaerys? I can go fetch him and I can find myself another whore that could take my cock in her mouth easier than you can.”

You scowled. “I’ll have your balls if you do such a thing.”

And in an instant, Aegon was straddling you again, slapping your face once more. “I guess I was wrong, you’re still acting like a little hellcat in heat. Maybe putting a babe in you will tame you, for a time at least. You know how the court whispers, how I haven’t sired an heir from you yet. I know you wanted to wait, but maybe tonight I finally will…then you can have my balls.” He giggled darkly. You moaned loudly when Aegon pressed two of his thick fingers inside you without warning, but with how wet you were, he had little to no resistance, besides you squeezing around his digits. “Fuck, you’re so wet. This all for me…or was it for Jace?” You shook your head no, but that only made him slap your pussy hard. “Use your words, slut.”

“All for you, Aegon! Only for you.” Aegon removed his fingers, quickly replacing them with his cock, hitting the ends of you with a single thrust. “Aegon!” You moaned, already feeling so full. You tried to move, but he held you in place, leaning down to take one of the stiffened peaks of your breasts into his mouth, sucking hard and then repeating the action with the other breast. “Please, more, please.” You begged, trying to cant your hips up but only meeting resistance from his hands pinning you to the bed.

“Only good girls get what they want. Are you a good girl?”

“...yes.” Slap. “No!”

“You’ve been a brat all night, and only bad girls act like you did tonight. And bad girls have to work for their pleasure. So, you will listen to me. You will obey my commands, understand?”

“Yes, my king.”

Aegon smiled, “Now there’s a glimpse of my good girl.” You whined as he slowly pulled out until just the tip barely remained, and then thrust back in hard, making you gasp. “That's what you wanted, little slut?” He thrusted into you again even harder, the loud slap of skin resounding through the entire room, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as his cockhead hit that special spot inside you that made your clit throb wildly.

“Yes, yes…!” You moaned, trying to keep your hips still as Aegon pounded into you hard and slowly, taking his time with you, keeping you frustrated but reeling at the same time. You started to cry, causing Aegon to giggle.

“Aw, is this not enough for my little slut? Do you not appreciate what your future king is giving you?”

“I need more, my king, please, I’m sorry, I can’t-” You babbled, your legs starting to shake.

“Hush, my darling, I’ll give you what you want. But you need to do something for me first.”

“I’ll do anything, please!”

“Tell me that Jace is nothing but the bastard of a whore who will never be king.”

You frowned, “B-But…”

“Ah, ah, ah, you said you’d do anything, did you not? Are you going back on your word to your king? Tell me how he’d never pleasure you like me.” Aegon’s thrusts slowed to a stop, his hand reaching down to circle your neglected clit with the tips of his fingers, causing you to arch your back in overstimulated pleasure.

“Aegon, please-!”

“Say it, bitch!”

“Jace is just a bastard who’ll never be king! He’ll never pleasure me like you can!” You screamed as Aegon finally started to rut into you with a brutality you’ve never experienced, he sat on his haunches, gripping your love handles with both hands so hard you knew it would leave your skin dark with bruises. The tip of his cock hit the ends of you over and over again, so hard you felt an ache form in the pit of your stomach. “Gods, fuck, Aegon!”

“Yes, slut, scream my name. Let the whole Keep know who’s fucking you like this. Scream so loud it’ll carry to that bastard’s chambers.” Aegon reached down to continue rubbing your clit, eliciting another scream of his name from your swollen lips. It almost sounded like you were being killed with how loud you were, but you were going to experience a little death soon if Aegon kept hitting both your pleasure spots at once.

“Are you going to cum on your king’s cock, hm?���

“Yes, my king, please, can I?” You sobbed, your moans getting louder and higher pitched as you edged towards that peak of pleasure.

Aegon smiled, groaning as his cock twitched inside you. “You’ve made up for all your bad behavior, so I guess you’ve earned it.” You groaned loudly as you came, clenching on Aegon’s cock so hard he whimpered, pounding into you until he neared his own climax. “You want your king’s cum inside you, darling? You want me to pour my seed inside you so you can give me an heir?”

“Cum inside me, Aegon, please, I want your babe inside me!”

“I’m gonna give it to you, darling, I’m gonna give you my cum, fuck-!” Aegon groaned loudly, burying his face in your neck as he shot his hot seed into your cunt, his cock twitching wildly inside you, making you whimper from the sensation. “Gods, fuck, darling…” He breathed out in exhaustion, rolling off of you to lay on his back beside you.

You lay there with a tired, but content smile on your face, simply enjoying the sound of Aegon catching his breath next to you, a sore ache between your legs.

“Did you enjoy that, you little vixen?” Aegon teased, huffing in annoyance.

You smiled as you turned to lay at his side, placing his arm around your shoulders and resting your head on his chest. “You know I’d never want Jacaerys, I just missed how we used to have our coupling in the beginning of our marriage…I only want you.”

Aegon raised a brow, looking down at you in amusement. “And here I thought I was the perverted one. You’re just as bad, aren’t you.” He turned to face you, smiling fondly at you, reaching a hand up to caress the side of your flushed face. “If you wanted me to fuck your brains out, my love, you could’ve just asked. I would’ve happily indulged you.” You gasped as he suddenly pinned you to the bed, keeping your wrist together above your head with one hand. “That being said, have you learned to behave yourself now, little one?”

You smirked, shrugging your shoulders. “I’m not sure, my king. I’m still feeling a bit rebellious.”

Aegon groaned as he wrapped his other hand around your throat tightly, his cock springing to life once more. “Then I guess it’s up to your king to teach you another lesson. Perhaps you’ll learn something this time.”

hope you enjoyed, Anon!

[elene78-blog]

TGR SPOILERS and THEORY ABOUT KEVIN AND JEAN

Am I the only one who found the contrast between TSC's "nice" Kevin and TGR's "rude" and slightly douchebag Kevin weird?

 Yes, Kevin had his moments of kindness, but he went from asking Jean to breathe, with his head in his hands, to roughly slamming him against the wall to calm him down before the interview in a threatening tone. He went from holding Jean's hand gently while he was in bed to "I know you hate me sometimes. I don't care."

 Okay, yeah, Kevin sends Jean a new postcard and all, and they have a very revealing conversation, but the contrast kept me pretty mad at him overall. Furthermore, in the interview Kevin was also quite rude compared to how he usually appears. Honestly, I saw Kevin as a real asshole compared to TSC. I found this change very strange. And I just thought about something about that, something that has already been exemplified in the original trilogy, and my theory is that...

 Kevin has always been this jerk (I call him that affectionately, you know what I mean) even on TSC, but Jean was describing him with the eyes of a person who idealizes another. This makes a ton of sense because Kevin was all the kindness Jean knew. Just Kevin and his tough love. The only person he's ever been "in love" with... until now.

That's why in TSC Kevin is so soft, because we see him through the eyes of a Jean who only knew that "kindness", of a Jean who continued to idealize him even though he also hated Kevin. A Jean who says "he has earned the right to be arrogant" without hesitation because Kevin continued to be his reference in terms of conflicting feelings.

 But this is no longer the case, is it?

 Now Jean knows what kindness is outside of The Nest. Now Jean has started to develop feelings for someone else, and no one has treated him like Kevin has, with that harshness at USC. Jeremy, his partner, has never treated him like that either. That's why TGR's Kevin is tougher in contrast to TSC and much less kind, because Jean is starting to stop idealizing Kevin now that he knows the genuine kindness of people who haven't been to The Nest. He sees the difference between Kevin and his current friends, and starts to go crazy because... Has Kevin always been like this, or did Jean see him that way because he didn't know anything else? 

In other words... Jean is "falling out of love."

Let's look at this a little more closely from when Kevin arrives to when he leaves: 

1. - Kevin arrives and helps Jean get dressed. Jeremy sees how Jean lets herself go and his eyes even shine a little. Some people say this shows that Jean is still in love with Kevin. I think it shows Jean's idealization of him, and a reflection of his own history (I think Jean stopped being in love with Kevin a long time ago, but Kevin was one of the few good things Jean had in The Nest, so he holds onto those few good memories tightly). 

2. - Kevin starts drinking and Jean loses his temper. Try to attack him. Kevin shakes him roughly and Jean relents. Why does Jean attack? Because the Kevin he knows, his idealized image, doesn't drink or have problems. He outgrew The Nest. He's better than that. Here Jean's image of Kevin begins to fall and that makes Jean not understand anything and gets angry. Kevin has to be perfect because KEVIN CAME OUT OF THERE. But Kevin doesn't seem like it and Jean starts to get more and more nervous about it. 

3. - Jean's nervousness increases during the interview. We see Kevin being quite blunt with the interviewer and, although Kevin is protective of Jean, Jean's descriptions of Kevin's actions are quite distant. Maybe because of nervousness, who knows? But when Jean comes up to breathe, Jean says something revealing.

Jean doesn't care who accompanies him outside. He doesn't care if it's Kevin or anyone else. Jean is clear that Kevin can't do anything at this point. Kevin has failed in this interview and in his task, which was to make everything go well. 

4.- They return home with the taste of failure. Jean and Kevin talk. Kevin reveals that he needs the help of alcohol because therapy isn't always a help. He reveals that he still hears Riko in his head continuously. To put it another way, Kevin shows weakness to Jean and Jean is shocked.

 "You should be better."

 The idealization of Kevin practically disappears with this phrase, and what happens next demonstrates it.

 5.- Cat hugs Jean, almost crying for the loss of Elodie. Jean sees here Cat's kindness versus the kindness that Kevin has barely been able to give him because Kevin doesn't know what kindness is either. This scene is very powerful because this is where Jean's change begins. This is where I think Jean begins to recognize his people. Kevin can't do more because Kevin is Jean's equal, not someone superior like Jean has always believed. If Kevin is just like Jean... That means Kevin is also "weak."

The idealization ends. Now everything depends on Jean. And from here on, the protective Jean appears because Jean understands that, if the immovable point that was Kevin is not such a thing and everything has been a lie that has been created in his own mind, only he himself can protect and help his people. 

The Nest's psyche begins to crumble because number two, second only to Riko, is just like Jean. This psyche begins to crumble because true kindness is that of "his people", not that of The Nest. If Kevin is not immovable, anything can happen. 

6.- And then Jean hits Bryson to protect Jeremy and his own home. 

Does it make sense?

[daydreamabout]

The Line That Was Crossed [Tim Bradford Imagine]

Summary: Y/N and Tim end up in Sergeant Grey's office.

The afternoon was unusually quiet at the LAPD precinct, and Tim Bradford couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. It was one of those rare shifts where things seemed a little too calm, which only ever meant one thing: trouble was about to strike. As he sat at his desk, reviewing case files and making notes, he couldn’t help but glance over at Y/N, who was across the room, casually leaning back in her chair and chatting with Smitty. She looked relaxed, but Tim knew that beneath her easy-going exterior, she was just as alert as he was. They’d been working together for over a year now, and in that time, they’d become more than just partners. They’d become something deeper, more personal. Officially, their relationship was still lowkey at work. They’d agreed that it was easier to keep things professional in front of their colleagues, but the unspoken tension and affection between them was always there, simmering just below the surface.

But today, something was different. There was a fire in Y/N’s eyes—something Tim hadn’t noticed until it was too late. He was halfway through a phone call when it happened. A call came in on the radio for a suspected drug deal going down in a nearby alley. Tim immediately grabbed his gear, but before he could turn to Y/N, she was already up and moving, her eyes locked on the door like she was already ten steps ahead.

“Come on, we’ve got work to do,” Y/N said, her voice sharp with determination.

Tim nodded, grabbing his own vest and weapon. “Let’s do this.”

As they arrived at the alley, the tension in the air was thick. The usual suspects were there—two men standing near a car, speaking in low tones, exchanging what looked like a bag of cash. Tim’s instincts were on high alert, but it was Y/N’s energy that was throwing him off. She was moving faster than he expected, eyes narrowed, every muscle tense, but not with caution—no, it was more like she was ready to explode.

“Y/N, slow down!” Tim called out, reaching for her arm, but she was already halfway across the alley.

“Let’s end this,” she snapped, her voice cold as she approached the men.

Tim’s eyes widened. He could already see how this was going to go down. They weren’t dealing with some simple street thugs—they were connected, and any wrong move could escalate things in a heartbeat. Tim started after her, trying to get her to stop before the situation spiraled.

“Y/N!” Tim’s voice was sharper now, his hand on her shoulder, pulling her back gently. “This is a setup—wait for backup!”

But she wasn’t listening. “I don’t need backup,” Y/N said, her voice tight, almost angry. She wasn’t backing down. “These guys aren’t walking away this time. You said it yourself: enough is enough.”

Before he could respond, one of the suspects turned and saw them, and that’s when everything went sideways. The man jerked his hand out of his pocket, and without thinking, Y/N pulled her weapon, pointing it at the man’s chest.

“Drop it!” Y/N shouted, her voice filled with authority, but there was an edge to it—one that made Tim’s stomach drop. He knew her—knew she wasn’t a loose cannon—but this was different. Her finger was on the trigger, and her breath was coming a little too fast.

“Y/N, no!” Tim shouted, rushing forward to intercept her, but it was too late.

The situation had already escalated. The suspect made a move—quick, jerking to the side—and Y/N flinched, her weapon trembling slightly in her hands. Tim grabbed her wrist just as the shot fired, but it wasn’t aimed at the suspect. The bullet slammed into the wall next to them, creating a cloud of dust and debris.

“Drop the gun, now!” the other suspect shouted, pulling his own weapon, aiming it at them.

The situation was out of control, and Tim could see it in Y/N’s eyes—she had reacted in a way that wasn’t like her. It was raw, impulsive, and now they were both in danger because of it.

“Put the gun down!” Tim barked at the suspect, trying to regain control of the scene. “You don’t want to do this.”

Thankfully, backup arrived just in time, and the standoff ended with the suspects being arrested without any further shots fired. Tim and Y/N both were shaken, but as they watched the officers cuff the men and lead them away, Y/N’s hands were still shaking slightly.

Tim’s anger was building now, though not directed at the suspects. He turned to Y/N, his voice low but firm. “What the hell was that, Y/N?”

She glared back at him, her face tight with frustration. “I was doing my job, Tim. I don’t need you babying me.”

Tim’s jaw clenched. “I wasn’t babying you. You were about to make a mistake. I know you’re pissed about the case, but you can’t let it cloud your judgment. You almost got us both killed out there.”

Y/N’s eyes flashed, but she didn’t argue. She knew he was right—part of her had been itching for something like this, something that would let her take all the frustration out on someone. But she knew she had crossed a line, and it felt worse than it should.

Tim softened his tone, trying to reach her. “Look, I get it. You’ve been under a lot of stress lately, but this isn’t the way to handle it.”

But before Y/N could respond, a voice interrupted them.

“Bradford, Y/N—get in my office. Now,” Sergeant Grey’s voice rang out, cold and commanding.

Tim and Y/N exchanged a look. They both knew what this meant.

Ten minutes later, they stood in Sergeant Grey’s office, the door shut behind them. Grey’s stern expression was enough to make anyone nervous, but Tim and Y/N had been in enough trouble before to know this was different. Sergeant Grey stood with his arms crossed, his gaze flicking between the two of them. “Care to explain what the hell happened out there?” he asked, his voice even but heavy with disapproval. Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but Tim cut her off, his voice steady. “It was my fault, Sarge. I should’ve stopped her before it escalated.”

Sergeant Grey narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t about you protecting her, Bradford. This is about judgment. Both of you crossed a line out there, and it’s not something I take lightly.”

Y/N’s face tightened with frustration, but she didn’t interrupt. She knew she’d messed up, and this wasn’t the time for excuses.

“You’ve been partners long enough to know how to keep it together, but today, you didn’t. Y/N, you were reckless. And Bradford, you let her be reckless. The next time, someone won’t be as lucky.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her stomach turning with the weight of his words. “I... I didn’t mean for it to go down like that,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I just—I got caught up in the moment.”

“I know,” Sergeant Grey replied, his tone softening slightly. “But when you're out there, you don't have the luxury of acting on instinct alone. You need to think, not react. You're both better than that. So, this is your warning. Don’t let it happen again.”

There was a heavy silence as both Tim and Y/N nodded in acknowledgment.

Sergeant Grey gave them one last, long look before finally speaking. “Alright. You’re both dismissed. But remember—out there, we don’t just watch each other’s backs. We trust each other to keep it cool. Now, get back to work.”

As they left his office, Tim couldn’t help but feel the weight of the situation. He’d been right to be protective of Y/N, but in doing so, he’d let the situation spiral out of control. Y/N was usually the one to stay level-headed, but today, she’d let her emotions take over.

“You okay?” Tim asked as they walked down the hall, his voice low.

Y/N took a deep breath, nodding. “Yeah. Just... got carried away. I’ll do better.”

He gave her a small smile, offering his silent support. "We both will."

[tgmsunmontue]

You look like a bad idea... 1/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - based on this idea here. Bradley is not a naval aviator. Canon deaths (it starts at Ice's funeral). Addiction and alcoholism (and recovery) mentions.

PART ONE

                Jake watches the proceedings with a sense of polite disinterest. He didn’t know Admiral Kazansky personally, is here because it’s expected of him. He’d rather be flying, training, suspects he’s not the only one. They’re on a time crunch. However, he also knows that without Maverick there to push them that extra little bit then there likely not much point. So here they all are.

                The only thing that’s breaking up the boredom is watching the… son? of Admiral Kazansky. He’s an attractive man, looks at ease in his finely tailored suit and Jake wonders what his story is. He’s listed under children of Admiral Kazansky, but doesn’t have the same last name; then again neither did either of the daughters. Blended family is what Jake would put money on. A first marriage or child out of wedlock wasn’t mentioned in the eulogy at all, but he supposes that probably would have been bad taste.

                So Jake is enjoying watching him. He’s interesting to watch, accepting condolences from the brass and other funeral attendees. He seems to know most people here and again Jake wonders what his story is. Then the guy’s eyes fall on Phoenix and they light-up, a brief moment of sunshine in his otherwise sombre expression and Jake supposes it is his dad’s funeral.

                However, making a play for someone seems a little… crass. And if Trace is his type, then Jake definitely isn’t going to make a play. But holy shit. Trace is smiling back. Putting her plate down and just… He always knew Trace had balls, but watching her now, sauntering over to the guy like she… oh. Going in for a hug. Which he’s returning.

                Right.

                Okay then.

                So they clearly know each other, heads bent toward each other and talking quietly, now equally sad expressions on their faces. Then Trace is hugging Admiral Kazansky’s wife even harder. Rather than answering any of his questions it throws up a dozen more. The guy, Bradley, catches him watching and Jake simply nods his head in acknowledgement, not sure what else he can do. He lets his eyes slip away, makes small talk with some of the other squadron members, passes his condolences on to Maverick who grips him in a tight hug.

                Weird.

                Maverick gives each of the other Dagger Squadron members the same treatment and he’s not sure if that makes it more or less weird. Regardless, Trace is rejoining them, and Maverick has a few more words to say to her and they’re too quiet for Jake to hear, but she’s nodding and he’s even more intrigued now, and she accepts the hug from Maverick with more grace than the rest of them.

                “Phoenix…”

                “Hangman…”

                “You know the family?”

                The way her lips twist tells him she definitely does and is trying to figure out what to share with him. Jake waits, knows people love to fill silences and spill their secrets.

                “Sarah is my aunt. My mother’s sister.”

                “So… Admiral Kazansky was your uncle.”

                “Yes.”

                “I’m sorry for your loss…”

                She looks surprised at his words and Jake keeps his expression carefully blank, because do people really think he’s that much of an asshole he’d make light of someone dying? Or not care? Maybe he needs to dial down his attitude just a little. At least with the people he likes. Or can tolerate. He’s never been one to suffer fools, but hell, this is getting dire.

                “Thanks… he was…”

                “Sick. Yeah. Doesn’t make it any easier. All it does is give you time to say goodbye…” Jake says, and his jaw tenses, hopes like hell she doesn’t start asking if he’s got experience. Doesn’t want to ever answer those types of questions. “What’s his story? Your cousin, right? Bradley?”

                She glances to where he’s looking, where Bradley is standing talking to yet another Admiral, looking perfectly at ease. Jake supposes he probably grew up around them.

                “Don’t even think about it. He’s… I love him. But he’s a fucking mess in everything but his professional life. Just… stay away if you know what’s good for you.”

                Hmm.

                Hell.

                It’s like she doesn’t know him at all.

[psychemochanight]

Okay!

First of all, this is going to be different from the Robins, because I didn't analyze them in general as characters, but only in their role as Robin.

This is mainly due to the habit of labeling them in very close roles, something that even DC did, and I will never forgive. These comparisons of "he's the smart one, he's the cool one, etc... but who am I?"... This was stupid af.

Whatever... Let's start with this.

Obviously these characters don't need a "label" to separate them, but I'll give a little description anyway about how I see each one... More or less.

Alfred: the character that the fandom never forgets, but never fully remembers.

Alfred is a key character in Bruce's story, and consequently, he also has a great impact on the lives of the other members of the family.

However, the fandom, and often the writers, forget that Alfred was never and never will be a purely good character.

People forget that Alfred was also cold, distant, and even capable of abandoning his family.

However, this doesn't make him a bad character, I don't even think it makes him a bad person. It just makes him... a human.

Alfred helped Bruce, but he could never guide him to healing. He helped him survive, even live, but always bleeding.

It was with the children that he himself became softer and learned to heal himself in order to heal others.

A great character, with many shades of gray in his existence, some darker than everyone remembers, but still, one of the most iconic to all the times.

You can't just think about Batman without think about Alfred.

Barbara: one of DC's biggest fails, all because of a romance.

Before anyone jumps on me, I'm not saying Babs' existence is a flaw at all.

Barbara, Batgirl, and then Oracle, was probably one of the best introduced characters in the Batman fray. Barbara didn't exactly feel like an out-of-place character, even though she seemed to simply come in as a character who was meant to be a counterpart to the dynamic duo.

To begin with, Barbara wasn't even close to Dick's age at the time, she was more in between Bruce and Dick's age, which gave him an air of maturity that Dick had not yet fully developed, but a youthful air that Bruce had already lost.

As Oracle, this seemed like the role the character was always meant to be created for. She was just in the right place (in my opinion). And if she had been even more independent like Oracle, she would probably be one of the most dangerous characters out there. In our digital age, anyone would notice the true power behind Oracle.

What happened? She was increasingly reduced to simply being Dick's partner.

And before anyone tells me about her solo moments, I know, I know, don't worry.

I don't mean that she only appears as a character in Dick's life, but how the fandom tends to reduce her. If you learn about Barbara through fandom (as many people are introduced to this universe), you wouldn't think of her as a character in her own right. Most of this people don't even know, for example, about her relationship with Cass.

And I still think that if they hadn't changed her age, if they hadn't forced her to be a partner for Dick, the character herself would be much more defined in her own role. If she was just Oracle, and she wasn't returned to her role within the Bat-Family and she expanded her abilities further, it would be much better and complete.

Cassandra: the only heir to the mantle of Batman.

One of the most forgotten characters by the fandom, but who deserves as much recognition as any other member of the family... Although some of her fans need to stop deifying her.

Cass is one of the most interesting characters. Not only is she one of the most skilled in DC, but she is also one of the characters who, in terms of sense of justice and morality, she is probably one of the most consistent. She probably surpasses Batman in her sense of justice, or she will if they continue to develop her in a good way. The fact that she voluntarily rejected her "destiny" is a clear sign of that.

She is not moved by revenge, but by justice. And honestly, I think she's the only one who should truly take the place that Bruce will leave at some point. Dick doesn't want it, and while some may think about Tim, I feel like he should go his own way, just like Damian. And even if Dick were willing, the place has to be Cass's, I have no doubts about that.

I can't say too much about Cass because she's not one of the characters I know the most, but from what I've seen of her, I feel like she's both underrated and overrated, depending on which side of the fandom you look at. If you really want to know her well, you don't have to look at the fandom, not even at her fans, because most of them distort the character.

Duke: the fresh air of the batfamily.

I'm just getting to know Duke, but I swear this is how he feels: a breath of fresh air.

Not only because he's different as the first daytime hero, or one of the few meta-humans who get involved with the batfamily... But in itself the fact that he, although he "took Robin's place"... He never wanted to be Robin.

The fandom also mischaracterizes him at times, making him out to be the "normal" one in the family... (No one in this business can be normal), but still, so far, he is one of the characters that I like the most because of the way his personality is developing. It has a good balance in my opinion, neither all tragedy, nor all pink colored.

If I knew him better I would like to say more about him, but I don't want to come here and make things up and end up giving a false opinion about him... So that's it.

I'm going to be honest, I don't know if you're talking about Selina or Helena-

If you're talking about Selina, I don't have much to say other than DC seriously needs to improve their consistency when it comes to character writing... Seriously.

If you're talking about Helena, I honestly don't remember practically anything about her, I knew her when I was a child, but I haven't seen anything about her since and anything I would be saying is an awful lie.

Harley: one of the few times DC did something nice for a female character.

I'm not going to go into too much detail about her, honestly.

But, one of the best decisions DC could have made was to keep her away from the Joker. Like, they just do the right thing.

I love the moments where she collaborates with any of the bats, although her writing isn't always the best... (I will forever ignore the scene between her and Nightwing in that animation.)

I like seeing her behave more like an antihero than a villain much more than seeing her sticking to the Joker.

And I love her relationship with Ivy.

Talia: victim of circumstances and writers.

I never really tried to get into Talia's story, I know it, but not well enough.

Still, even just knowing things here and there, one can realize that there are writers who genuinely seem to hate her.

I'm not going to give opinions on whether I think she's a good person or not, nor am I going to say whether I like her or not. I prefer to keep that to myself because I feel that my opinion remains incomplete.

Sorry, I know I didn't really respond, like, about all the characters, but I really didn't want to say something that could be wrong just because I don't know the character... Even now I think I could have done that-

But, that's all, I think-

I know you hate labels on them, but if you HAD to label the Robins, how would you do it?

The first one, the second one, the third one...

Ok, out of jokes-

Dick: The first one.

With all that this implies: Dick being the one who founded the bases to follow, the one who made the mistakes that he later taught to correct, the one who saw the empty spaces that others later filled. The first one who had to be everything and learn on his own.

Jason: the DC experiment.

DC DIDN'T know how to deal with Dick's exit as Robin, it's like they never really planned on letting him out, but it happened. Jason became a character of trial and error.

At first he was an exact copy of Grayson, since the first one was successful... But obviously the fans didn't want a Dick Grayson with another name. So what did they do? They gave it a twist and did the opposite... It doesn't work well either.

And instead of continuing to try (even though Jason already had a fan base by that point), they chose to "get rid of" the character and then revive him as a "blank canvas."

A character who had a lot of potential, but they didn't know how to handle him and now the most relevant thing about him is his death because DC doesn't know how to give him continuity.

Tim: the robin of the fans for the fans.

Tim is often referred to as a fandom self-insert, and honestly, it's understandable why.

It's the Robin that gave off vibes similar to the original that was the most loved at the time, but at the same time, had real characteristics that fans could identify with.

Tim is the one with the most "normal" story, he is the one who could be any civilian, the one who seems like he wasn't meant to be, but he was.

In my opinion, the one who best balanced his personality as Robin and as a civilian.

(And that the fandom decides to totally ignore haha </3)

Although DC needs to learn to let go of Tim and let him grow. At this point I think half of the fandom doesn't even know how old he is or what hero he is.

Steph: the Robin who deserves better.

I don't just mean story-wise, obviously none of the characters deserved the shit they suffered and deserve a better life... I mean in general.

The real forgotten Robin is Steph, not Tim, and I'm not going to discuss it with anyone.

They (DC) keep writing the same story over and over again, rewriting the other Robins' history (especially Dick), but never giving us more about Steph.

Give my girl her story. Just like Jason, she has so much potential, give her her moment to shine!

(although, here I have to open parentheses for this: Steph has a much more consistent story than Jason, her role is more defined, but it feels outdated at this point. And, in any case, I feel like Steph shouldn't even really be a "bat", but rather someone independent... Or similar to Nightwing at least, who doesn't wear a bat on his suit).

Damian: the one who deserves not to be Robin.

Let me clarify: "the one who deserves not to be Robin", not "the one who does not deserve to be Robin".

Damian needed to be Robin, it was the key point in his development and I think Dick did the right thing by giving him the role of Robin...

But I feel that he deserves to stop being Robin too.

I think he's going to stop being Robin? No, not with DC writing him. DC has a history of resetting their characters to a certain point, they always bring them back. I don't think they're going to release Damian soon.

But while every character deserves to have a life outside of being heroes, I feel like Damian deserves it the most out of all of them.

The others are adults who have already chosen this, but Damian is a child, a teenager by now... And letting him be something more than the one who was created to be in the underworld, I feel that is the best for him.

I think he should stop being a vigilante? I'm not that sure, but that his life should definitely NOT revolve around that.

"The mission" should not be HIS mission.

So... Yeah, that.

I'm not sure if this makes sense to you tho-

[asaka-lucy-hl]

Report on the 3rd Online Meeting of the Last Defense Academy School Council (Held on February 28)

The archived video is now available for the School Council members, so I’ve listed the key points and comments from Kodaka and Inou (THL’s producer) that I found particularly important or amusing. Part of the report is written in the form of a conversation, and the person named Miyokawa who appears in it is the editor-in-chief of a Japanese gaming media outlet called Famitsu.

Q: There are now 55 days until release. How are things going? Kodaka: We’re working on some patches, but development itself is basically finished. Until recently, I was making final adjustments to the parts I was responsible for, as well as checking the balance of the SRPG sections. But now that’s all settled, so I’ve been playing through the parts written by other writers—the ones I wasn’t involved in during development—as a player.

Q: So you're playing THL from a player’s perspective? Kodaka: Yes, exactly. There are parts I didn’t oversee at all, so I’m experiencing them for the first time myself.

Q: The demo’s reviews have the status of “Overwhelmingly Positive”… Kodaka: They’re all fake reviews. (Everyone laughs) Kodaka: We paid people 100 yen each to write them. Miyokawa: That’s cheap. (laughs) Inou: I personally wrote about 30 of them. (Everyone laughs) Miyokawa: Let’s not make jokes like that—it could spread in a weird way. It’s not true! (laughs) Right now, there are around 806 reviews. Kodaka: It’s really nice to see so many reviews for just the demo.

Q: Do you feel the impact of the feedback? Kodaka: Yes, I do. With Rain Code, we didn’t release a demo, and while DRV3 had a demo, there wasn’t really a place for people to leave reviews like this. So being able to see this kind of reaction is really valuable. We’ve even used some of the feedback to make adjustments in patches, so in that sense, I’m glad we released a demo. Also, as I mentioned in my Famitsu interview today, seeing the reactions to the demo has been a relief. My worries have eased a bit. Before the demo was released, I was thinking, “What if we only sell 600 copies...?” But now I know we’ll at least sell 800, so I feel a little better. (Everyone laughs) Miyokawa: I don’t think 800 copies is a number you should feel reassured about. (laughs)

Q: The SRPG sections were more challenging than I expected. Kodaka: That’s true. I think that’s one of the aspects that received particularly good feedback. When it comes to the story, a lot of people commented that it felt “Danganronpa-like” and nostalgic, but for the SRPG sections, it seemed like many players only truly understood what they were like after playing them.

The SRPG has a system where, if you get a game over, various relief measures kick in, making it progressively easier. Personally, when I play action games and keep getting game overs, I always think, “Why doesn’t this game have some kind of relief system?!” Since I’m more of a casual gamer, after dying three times, I just want the game to let me clear it already.

Miyokawa: So THL has that kind of relief system? Kodaka: Yes. Since I’m the type of person who wants that kind of feature, I made sure to include it.

Q: Since we have Kodaka here, I’d love for the School Council members to share their thoughts directly with you. But at the same time, many fans are hesitant to say too much because they’re worried about spoilers.

Kodaka: Yeah, but honestly, what’s playable in the demo is really just the tip of the iceberg—actually, more like the tip of the tip of the iceberg. I’ve seen a lot of reviews commenting on how surprisingly large the demo is, saying things like, “I can’t believe they released this much content.” But in reality, it’s just a small fraction of the full game. So many more things are going to happen from here on.

On the other hand, since the development team talks openly about all this stuff among ourselves, I sometimes worry that I might accidentally slip up and drop a keyword or something.

Most SRPGs tend to have a fantasy feel, but I think this demo really conveys just how much of a 'chuunibyou' (edgy, over-the-top) vibe the game has.

(Everyone laughs)

One thing that’s always bothered me about SRPGs is how, toward the end, the gameplay often turns into just surrounding the last enemies and bullying them. At a certain point, you realize, “Oh, I can’t lose anymore,” and the tension disappears. I wanted to reduce that as much as possible.

So, I designed the game around "comeback victories." The more allies you lose, the stronger you become.

I set it up so that, near the end, you might think, “Only two of us are left... but if we risk everything, we might just pull this off... We did it!!!” That kind of dramatic, high-stakes moment. I feel like that also adds to the game’s chuunibyou spirit.

---

<Kodaka's Comments During the Fan Q&A Session>

Darumi is the kind of character that seems like they could fit into Danganronpa but actually can't. If you have a character like that, they’d basically have to be killed off early on. So, while they might seem like a Danganronpa character, they actually wouldn’t work.

Maruko wouldn’t fit either. Someone that much of a coward would be hard to use in the story. Ginzaki as well—if he keeps sinking into self-loathing every time he speaks, the Class Trial wouldn’t progress at all. Surprisingly, there are a lot of characters that seem like they could appear in Danganronpa but actually wouldn’t.

For the first nine characters (except for Takumi), I wanted them to feel a little more relatable, a bit more grounded compared to the ones in Danganronpa or Rain Code. Maruko, Kawana, Shizuhara—they don’t have over-the-top appearances. Since this game has war as a theme, I wanted to include somewhat realistic reactions to that. So, at first, I aimed to depict real high school students with these nine characters. ...But I couldn't really do it. laughs In the end, I just kept adding more and more, and it turned out the same as always—intense characters all over again.

(Everyone laughs)

Kodaka: Still, I think the designs are slightly more relatable than those in Danganronpa, don’t you? Miyokawa: Darumi might be a bit extreme, though. Kodaka: Yeah, that’s true. But then all the characters that got added later ended up being way too intense, which made for a really unbalanced mix. laughs

Q: Are you participating in the 100-day login campaign? Kodaka: I haven’t logged in once. (Everyone laughs)

Q. The controls with the keyboard are difficult. Can they be improved before release? Kodaka: To be honest, I strongly recommend using a gamepad. Well... making adjustments for keyboard controls costs money, you know. Inou: Yeah, it’s not like we didn’t consider it, but given the budget, we decided it was better to just ask players to use a gamepad.

Q: Will there be any shocking announcements before the release? Kodaka: Honestly, we’re still debating how much to reveal. From a marketing perspective, it would be better to make an honest announcement that "This and that happen," people would go, "Whoa, this game is insane!" But at the same time, I want players to experience those surprises firsthand. So I’m thinking maybe it’s best to hold back and rely on post-release word-of-mouth instead. I don’t want to ruin those moments of shock for the players.

That said, I was looking at the demo reviews, and it seems like a lot of people were really reacting to Aotsuki’s event CG from Tokyo Game Show. Maybe that’s because, after playing the demo, they understood the characters better?

Inou: Yeah, that one definitely got people buzzing and stirred up a lot of "What!?!" reactions. Kodaka: At TGS, we had a bunch of event CGs on display at the booth. And we figured, "Hey, let’s throw in something fun at the edge of the lineup!" So we deliberately included one of the more intense event CGs. But I think it’s still hard to understand why things turned out that way.

There are over 600 event CGs in the game, so I doubt many people will see all of this.

---

On the development process

Kodaka: Today, various sections of the team were interviewed, and while reminiscing about the road to release, our staff kept saying things like: "I never thought we’d finish this game." "There’s no way this is possible."

Honestly, for the past two years, I’ve been hearing nothing but people saying, “It’s impossible! We can’t finish it!”

Miyokawa: Sounds like the whole Tookyo Games team was in despair. Kodaka: Yeah, Tookyo Games was in despair. Even Media.Vision (the company handling the SRPG sections) was in despair. Inou: Right. And since I was managing the project, I was in despair too. (Everyone laughs) Inou: So, at some point, I thought we had to force ourselves to finish it. Speaking of which, someone started saying scary things like, "If we had another year, we could have done even better..." Kodaka: It would never be finished at that rate. laughs Miyokawa: That just shows how ambitious the game was. Kodaka: Yeah, and I think the quality turned out really high. The character sprites and music are really abundant, too.

Plus, in the ADV sections, the scripting was all handled by the actual scenario writers. For the sections I wrote, I also did all the scripting myself. In fact, the entire ADV section of the demo—I handled all the scripting for it.

That’s probably why people kept saying in reviews that it feels like Danganronpa—because everything, from the way sound effects are used to the way music changes, was all done in my style.

While working on this, I realized that I’m actually really good at scripting. Maybe even better than writing scenarios. I genuinely feel like my directing makes things more engaging.

Miyokawa: Do different writers have their own distinct styles? Kodaka: Yeah, you can really tell, especially with Uchikoshi—his writing stands out a lot. There are some sections where you just know it’s him. But I think that’s part of the game’s charm—there are so many different routes, and multiple writers contributed to them.

---

[Closing Segment]

Miyokawa: Now then, does anyone know what day it is today, February 28th? Kodaka: Monster Hunter release day! Miyokawa: (laughs) Oh, the team members know what I mean. That’s right—it’s Ginzaki’s birthday! So, we have prepared a cake for him!

What do you think? Kodaka: That’s impressive. It does look a bit like his ears are melting though. Miyokawa: Well, is he really that beloved? Inou: I believe a lot of people will end up loving him. He’s already popular at ANIPLEX, and he’s one of my favorites too. Kodaka: He does have a great range of expressions. A lot of them are annoying, though. (Everyone laughs) Miyokawa: Even the expression on the cake is a little irritating, right? He doesn't seem to be aware that he is being celebrated. ---

Miyokawa: Lastly, do you have any message for the School Council members? Kodaka: Well, after the release, I’d love to have a meeting where we can share our thoughts without worrying about spoilers. I think a lot of different impressions will come up. Probably, about a month after the release, people who have played it will have completely different opinions, so I’d like to hear everyone’s thoughts at a good time. I think this is a work where sharing impressions will be a lot of fun, so please look forward to it and wait until the release.

---

That’s all for now. Please note that this post only highlights the parts of their statements that I found interesting, and some sections have been edited for flow, as they were not originally consecutive.

I hope you find some parts of it enjoyable to read. Thanks for reading! 🌟

[gallifreyan85]

If I Had A Box Just For Wishes

pairing: Agatha x reader

summary: being agatha's only student has its sacrifices. you navigate around her tough exterior, but she's not the easiest to talk to.

Warnings: cutting your had for a spell? slight mentions of blood. agatha trying not to be soft

A/n: read warnings. I wanted to finish this for days but I'm not sure how I feel about it now. anyway. this is part 2 of I Want No More Than This but can be read as standalone. enjoy!! <3

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆

You knew from the moment you agreed to listen to her, that having Agatha Harkness as something akin to a mentor would be no easy feat. It wasn’t that obvious at first, not much, just her being demanding as always and wanting you to be thorough in whatever magic you did. She was not soft, or reassuring, or a warm teacher. But still it all seemed normal enough. Well. As normal as learning magic could be for a witch. You found yourself enjoying it even. Rarely, yes, but as much as she was downright scary sometimes, Agatha was good with words. She’d tell you about things in the world of witchcraft that you’d never hear from other witches, and she made it all sound like some adventure-filled story, complete with a demonstration of said spell at the end, plus a few dramatic gestures, the constant addition of her snarky charm.

You listened. Went along with it. Of course you wished for more, more attention, not that you’d ever admit it, but she kept calling you sweet things- names like honey and darling and pet, allthewhile somehow making it all sound like an insult. And you took it anyway. You’d begged your way into this mess you called a mentorship, you would endure it no matter what. And you were safe. From what, you weren’t sure yet, but one of the perks of being in Agatha’s good circle, and it was a very small circle, was that no one would dare hurt you.

Well.

No one but her, of course.

And she always made a point of reiterating it, no onebut her. It worried you a little at first, swirling silently inside your head before you drifted off at night, trying to imagine the way her words would one day come true, you promised her your loyalty, begged her to take you in and teach you, so where was your fee? And then after a little while, slowly but surely that thought faded away into the backround with all your other worries about life, and you didn’t really give it much thought.

It wasn’t late exactly but you felt exhausted, just about making it down to the basement after she called your name, and you wished that whatever it was she wanted wouldn’t take long, because the four long hours you spent training and learning were starting to take their toll, starting with general exhaustion which had then slowly started to bleed into outright tiredness. You couldn’t wait to take a shower and go to bed. Her words were still echoing faintly in your head, progress is slow darling, you have to concentrate.

When you descended the stairs she was standing in the middle of the room, in a halo of pale light that always fell in odd circles in her basement, you weren’t even sure where from as there were no windows, but… When you approached her she gave you an odd smile, a sort of cold, almost self-satisfied smirk. As if she knew something you did not. That was of course true, she knew lots of things you didn’t, but as you came closer to her, your steps slow and a little unsure, you couldn’t help but feel a slight shiver wash over your back at the way her eyes were following you. When you stopped in front of her she met your eyes, her own blue ones willed with a sense of… what was that, amusement? Curiosity?

No, anticipation. She was waiting for something, but for what?

“You needed something?” you looked up at her, feeling oddly small in the chill of the room.

“Yes, dear.” she said, gaze falling back down onto the large book laid open in front of her, darkened pages filled with symbols you didn’t understand.

“I’m working on a spell of sorts. Very advanced, and certainly too much for your little head to turn over.”

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly. “So then why did you call me?”

“Oh, I need your help with something. Just a little, tiny thing really. And then you’ll be free to go.”

You tilted her head.

Something about her tone made you want to back away while you still could, but no. Whatever it was you could take it. You were going to prove to her that she made the right choice by letting you stay.

“What do you need me to do?”

She chuckled lowly.

Then, with one smooth and swift move, she slid something onto the table towards you. A small, pristine ceramic bowl, with a few scattered herbs and leaves inside. You looked at it for a moment, confused, then glanced back at her. She chuckled again.

“Come over here, darling.” she said, beckoning you closer.

You walked over to her side, feeling very much like a gazelle walking into a lion’s den.

When you stopped beside her, the table and bowl still in front of you, she reached for something else behind her back, saying casually,

“You see the spell I’m working on requires a few special items, some extra ingredients. And it seems you’re the perfect candidate for one of those.”

You frowned.

You were about to ask her to explain when she set something else on the table in front of you, and your mouth went a little dry.

It was a knife.

Small, silver, oriental and decorated with some sort of old-loooking swirly symbols, black handle pointing towards you.

“Bleed.” she said.

You blinked.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t say anything else.

“What?” you looked up at her.

She nudged the bowl towards you, a smile now curling her lips.

“I said bleed. I don’t need much but it’s important. For the spell.”

You didn’t move.

“You need-- blood?”

She sighed, an edge of frustration seeping into her tone.

“Do I need to make everything crystal clear for you hun? The spell requires blood, and who better to offer some but you? Come on.”

She pushed the knife towards you.

“W-why can’t you do it?” you made out, feeling slightly shaky.

She laughed. A genuine laugh.

“Oh, I’d be happy to, if you weren’t such a scaredy cat, but what I need here is blood of the innocent. And trust me dear I’m not innocent. In any of the ways. Seriously.” she shot you a sly smile and winked as if that explained you needed to know.

You hesitated.

“Ugh, come on,” she sighed, huffing with a hint of annoyance. “this was part of our deal, or did you forget? You listen to me, and I’m asking you to help out.”

She didn’t sound like she was asking.

You swallowed. Picked up the knife.

She nodded, the barest hint of a nod. It made you feel a little better.

You raised the knife to your hand.

“That’s it. Come on dear.” she murmured, eyes watching you like a hawk.

“How much do you need?” you asked, stalling for just a moment.

She thought it through for a bit, then shook her head. “Not much. Just enough for it to work. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

You looked at her, then back down. The knife felt slippery in your grasp. You didn’t move. But she was watching you with those eyes, that icy blue scrutinizing stare that made you feel jittery and filled you with a need to please her. Everyone else had left you. You couldn’t be alone again, you wouldn’t. Agatha had just started towards you, seemingly ready to do it for you, when you slid the tip along your hand, feeling that smooth, warm trickle that slid down your palm and into the ceramic bowl.

You didn’t see her expression, but she stopped a few feet away, watching you. Her head tilted slightly, as if in consideration.

“Hm.” she murmured. “So you do have some guts in you after all.”

You tried to smile. All you did was wince. You kept your hand above the bowl, stayed still for a moment, waiting for her to say it’s enough, but she was watching you with a new kind of intensity in her gaze. You didn’t know what to make of it. Your hand was starting to hurt, a tingly burning feeling, and you tried to pull away but she gripped your wrist and forced it straight.

“Just a moment longer.”

You gave her a look.

She didn’t say anything else.

When she was finally satisfied she pulled the bowl away, back towards her, and did some sort of swirling gesture with her palm. You watched as the contents glowed bright purple, such a beautiful color that you came to associate with her and this dark basement. It glowed for a while more until the light died down, leaving a small shimmery residue that reminded you of tea leaves. You waited. She didn’t say anything, just picked up the bowl and put it away in some dark corner, then rolled up her sleeves a little better and went back to the big book. You tried to push down the growing feeling of frustration inside you. Your eyes felt tired, drooping on their own accord, and while you knew you didn’t exactly lose a lot of blood your head still felt slightly woozy, maybe from the training-packed day, maybe not. You looked down, pressing the sleeve of your shirt into your palm. It hurt a little, but the pain that was really bothering you wasn’t in hand but in your heart. Was this what it was going to be like? Just you going along with her whims, never complaining, never getting anything in return? You got knowledge, yes, but…

It didn’t feel right.

It didn’t feel like enough.

Maybe you were selfish. You felt a burning in your eyes and tried to blink it away. When Agatha turned next she paused, as if forgetting you were still there, and tilted her head a little to one side.

“Why are you still here?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it again.

You were starting to feel more desperate, and for what you didn’t know.

Agatha raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”

You shook your head, feeling your voice quiver just slightly.

“Is this all you want from me?”

She frowned, genuinely confused. You would’ve laughed if you didn’t feel so close to crying.

“What are you talking about?” she asked flatly.

“This-- I mean-- is that why I’m here? To just-- bleed when you need it and- and do everything you say and never-”

She looked at you. Really looked at you.

“Never what?” she asked, and you were surprised to hear that she wasn’t angry, just slightly curious.

“Never do anything more?” you sniffled.

She gave you a deadpan look. “More? What more do you want, kid? I’m already teaching you magic. Are the endless everyday lessons not enough for you?”

“No-- no, I meant-”

“Yes?”

“Like-- outside of that.”

She paused. Looked at you like you just said something dreadfully nonsensical.

“You-- you could be- just- just a little… you could talk to me.”

“I do talk to you.”

“Not like that.” you murmured. “Just- normal things, y’know? Like, what you’re doing, or ask what I’m doing, or… or what we’re having for dinner.”

She straightened. For a moment you thought she was going to laugh in your face, but she just stared at you, scrutinizing your face as if she could read your thoughts from your expression or your teary eyes. Then she sighed.

“Fine. I’m not in the mood for this touchy nonsense, and I am not about to deal with you crying—”

“I’m not crying-”

“Ah, ah, ah. Zip it.” she shook her head, pointing a finger into your face, “I know you better than you think kid, and those teary eyes aren’t fooling anyone.”

You didn’t say anything.

She stared at you for a second more.

“Give me your hand.” she said.

You looked up, hesitant. “W-what?”

“You’re making a mess on my floor- if you get blood on the upholstery you’re cleaning it up yourself, this is eighteenth-century wood.”

She yanked your hand forward in an oddly gentle way that surprised you, and murmured something under her breath.

A wave of warmth shot through your hand, and your looked down hesitantly as seemingly nothing happened. You frowned.

“Was that-”

“Disinfectant spell.” she muttered. “I’m no potions witch but I’ve been in enough battles to know what to do when you’re—” she gestured vaguely as if you’d know what she meant. You watched quietly as she stepped away and then came back with a--

A bandaid?

Really?

She peeled the paper away and stuck one across your palm, right over the length of the cut, ignoring your slight wince.

“Don’t be such a crybaby.” she muttered, but her hands never faltered as she pressed everything over your palm, making sure it was secure.

You let her.

There wasn’t much you could read from her expression but there was a warmth in her blue eyes that you hadn’t noticed before. Never directed at you. Never until now. Maybe you were imagining it. Probably.

The feeling of her hands over your own felt welcomingly warm, and you let yourself relax for a moment. When was the last time someone had fussed over you? Helped you, like this? You just about closed your eyes and sighed softly, feeling the tension in your shoulders unwind when her hand left yours, and suddenly you felt cold at the loss.

You opened your eyes to see her studying you, eyes narrowed, an odd mix of emotions on her face.

“There.” she said, patting your hand once, “Now you won’t bleed to death.”

She waved a hand the rest of the mess on the table cleaned itself up in an instant.

Then she glanced towards the ceramic bowl she set aside and nodded to herself, seeing something you clearly could not.

“You did-- a decent job.” she said.

You were about to ask how it was possible to do an indecent job when all you had to do was bleed but her hands were back on your shoulders, and you relaxed again despite yourself, letting her steer you towards the stairs.

“Tomorrow after lessons if you stick around a bit longer I might show you what I’m working on.” she said, surprising you. You looked up but she kept walking, pushing you forwards until you were both out of the basement and back in the living room.

“You will?” you murmured quietly, hating the way your voice gave away more than your words.

She sighed, and nodded, albeit begrudgingly.

“You did help a little, I suppose it’s only fair you at least get to see what it is.”

You smiled faintly. She noticed, and paused a little, then shrugged it off like seeing you smile was something she was unprepared to deal with at the moment.

When you were both at the door of your room she stopped, letting her hands fall away from your back, and turned, meeting your eyes.

“There’s things I need to finish up downstairs.” she said, voice even and low. Then as you kept looking at her, waiting for more, she added, in a very questioningly sort of normal tone,

“And we’re having pizza for dinner.”

You nodded.

She looked you up and down, spared another quick glance at your hand, and turned.

She paused just slightly, and then, surprising even herself, set a hand on your arm, her touch barely there but unbating.

“Get some rest.” she said, a little awkwardly. “You… Well, I suppose you earned it.”

“You suppose?” You murmured, fighting a small smile. It only grew when she bristled, huffing and waving a hand around the air, seemingly embarrassed.

“Yes, I suppose,” she said quickly, already stepping away, “and that’s all you’re getting. Be thankful.”

She turned fully at that and left back down the hall, you watching her in silence and stifling a quiet chuckle when she almost tripped over Senor Scratchy, who was innocently hopping around the floor, not even pausing to look at her.

She grumbled about him some more, and you thought you caught her mumbling about him being ‘just as bad as she is’, which made you feel a little better. You watched her leave and then knelt down to pet the rabbit, its fluffy fur like a soft haven under your fingers.

You scratched behind his ears and over his back, then straightened up and went into your room, grateful to change into something more soft before dinner. Your hand still hurt a little, but you kept replaying the look on her face when she fixed up your hand, that gentle foreign something in her pale eyes that seemed to surprise even her. Maybe it was care. You knew she’d deny it until the end of time itself but the way her fingers hovered gently, careful not to hurt you, that quiet tender expression she held as she steered you away into your room…

It wasn’t exactly what you kept hoping for but it was something.

It was something. More than before. A step in the right direction.

Progress was slow.

You sat on your bed, trying to imagine what sort of thing she’d tell you about tomorrow. Maybe she would sit beside you and talk. Maybe she’d let you lean in close while her hands brought up violet strands of light from nothing, weaving it between her fingers like a delicate ribbon dancing in the wind.

Maybe.

You’d have to wait and see.

A/n: I have the next part of this planned out and it's a bit more sweet (we're finally getting to it) Also don't do this irl, don't bleed for Agatha, don't bleed for anyone. This is not proofread, sorry for any mistakes. Title is from Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce. Love y'all, thank you for reading <3

Taglist 💜 @milflovers4, @senhorita-girassol (you said before you'd like to read more of this series so i thought i'd tag you, if you don't want a tag just let me know <3)

[teamjacobthot]

tbh, i caught your tags on one of the reblogs of a post and i was curious enough to look into more of your takes. honestly? 💯💯

another thing to note on the racism in twilight (other than the obvious vampire bias through smeyer's oh sorry, Bella's pov.... 🙄) is how Bella in BD has the audacity to call the vampires' shitty treatment of Jacob (yknow, her supposed "best friend") as "easy acceptance"(!!!)

I was amazed at the easy acceptance the visiting vampires had for Jacob (..). Jacob seemed more or less invisible to them, not quite a person, but also not food, either. They treated him the way people who are not animal-lovers treat the pets of their friends.

☝️☝️ Taken directly from the book, this is from Bella's on viewpoint, so there is no misquoting here. that's exactly how she thinks of it and she's amazed by it!

what pisses me off the most is that i've seen people *cough* twilight tiktok and reddit *cough* defend the Cullens letting the vampires come over and feed on humans during their stay (yknow, something Bella the Biased™️ touts the Cullens as "good to the core"(!)) becus "ummm ☝️🤓 they need them to witness for renameme 👉👈🥺 the Cullens' lives are at stake!!!"

to which i say, have your meetup literally anywhere else?? the book, especially Breaking dawn, made the Cullens come off as rich and multimillionaires with private islands and only wearing clothes "once" and "enough money to keep a small country afloat for decades" and yet your telling me they can't find another house that's FAR AWAY from the tribe where they WON'T end up ruining the lives of some Quileute kids by making them phase into wolves against their will?? And ALL Bella says in the Volturi meetup where she sees all those young werewolves are "ah makes sense the werewolf population will explode with all these vampires~ 😮😮 uwuwuwu"

FUCK Bella and the Cullens for that. All this for their little Rigatoni halfpire child. They've gotta be the most selfish mfs on the planet.

first, I’m sorry for this late ass response!! second, you spilled.

I always think abt how cullens could’ve used their billionaire resources to gather all their witnesses in isle esme, or the arctic circle, or some giant empty ass area of a desert, or or or-

the books and their themes surrounding only bella and edward does such a disservice to the readers though. this is the paragraph right before the quote you provided:

ik this topic has been discussed to death in wolf pack-centric circles (hiii oomfies 💜) but this shit is kinda devastating, isn’t it? and knowing that jacob’s whole thing up until he imprinted was about the importance of having CHOICESSSSSS in life, this breaks my fawking heart. bella is a big part of his character journey ofc but she’s not everything and it’s easy for the reader to forget this when he’s treated like a damn house pet.

jake phased for the first time at 16 years old, assumed the position of a Local Supernatural Protector of Human Lives at 16 years old, and fell in line to sam’s orders until he couldn’t anymore, so he could try to protect bella. and THEN he made the hard decision to break off from the pack and embrace his family legacy of being an alpha at 16 years old. then boom, he loses his autonomy to imprinting and is bonded to bella and edward’s baby forever. AT 16 YEARS OLD.

before he imprinted, jake and the rest of the pack wouldn’t have stood for any of this witness shit in breaking dawn, but bella’s narrative just treats this as jake essentially turning the other cheek and saying “oh well!” bc of the imprint. imprinting was a blessing for jared, a bullet for leah, and a band-aid for jacob. and then there’s bella, who — despite caring for jacob (smeyer’s words not mine) — doesn’t give a shit abt middle schoolers on the rez phasing, bc her child’s safety is more important than theirs. the rez kids are just casualties. makes me sick fr

[onyourj-uls]

˚｡⋆୨୧ i wish ⋆ sungchan, anton.

pairing: anton x fem!reader x sungchan

genre: angst, slight fluff, past romance, emotional tension

warnings: slightly suggestive themes, unspoken feelings, heartbreak, smut (just a little bit).

wc: 2.8k~

note: it had been a long time since i listened to "i wish" by 1D and yesterday it played by itself and omg, suddenly an idea came to me hahaha, i suffered a bit writing this because i'm so in love with all rii7e members😭😭 also, i have an intense love for sungchan since nct 2020, so i decided he would be perfect for this.

the first time sungchan saw you, he thought you were grumpy or difficult to approach because of your expression. you always walked alone through the school hallways, headphones in your ears, eyes steady, giving no impression that you wanted company. it wasn’t that you were rude, you just seemed to live in your own world, as if you didn’t need anyone else.

but everything changed when you were put on the same team for a project with shotaro. that’s when sungchan realized how wrong his first impressions had been. not only were you not grumpy, but you were also funny, passionate about what interested you, and had a sense of humor that made him laugh more than once.

from then on, you, shotaro, and sungchan became inseparable. if anyone saw you together, they knew you were up to something whether it was a prank or just a spontaneous hangout after class.

over time, there were days when shotaro couldn't go out, leaving just the two of you. at first, your outings were normal, just two friends spending time together. but little by little, you both started to notice it:

the accidental brushes of your hands when walking side by side.

the lingering eye contact that lasted longer than usual.

the hugs that became longer and warmer.

until one afternoon, on an ordinary day, you were lying on the grass, and he absentmindedly ran his fingers through your hair while you slowly traced your fingers over his face, admiring his pretty features. no words were needed, the tension in the air spoke for you.

and then, it happened.

a kiss. one that shouldn't have happened, yet felt as natural as breathing. it wasn't planned, it wasn't premeditated, it just happened.

from that day on, things changed.

sometimes, you'd go out and hold hands in the darkness of the movie theater.

other times, you'd find yourselves alone, and your lips would seek each other out, like magnets drawn together.

but you never talked about what you were, because deep down, you both knew you couldn't be.

sungchan was older than you, and even though his heart wanted to try, he knew it wasn’t right, he was already an adult, and you weren’t. you understood, even though it hurt.

so, you made a pact: no one would know about this.

except Shotaro, who accidentally caught you kissing near the school lab one day and had to promise to keep it a secret.

Eecept for you and a trusted friend.

no one else.

until one night, after spending the whole day together as usual, sungchan was walking you home to make sure you arrived safely.

the difference that night was that you invited him in, and he agreed, something he never did. you sat on the couch, snuggled in his arms. you loved feeling his warmth, his scent, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat...

without thinking too much, you lifted your face, and he looked into your eyes. you knew what he wanted—you knew him well. he wanted to kiss you, so you leaned in, pressing your lips against his in a tender, innocent kiss that quickly grew in intensity.

you climbed onto his lap, as you often did.

sungchan’s hands moved up and down your waist, slowly pressing against your hips.

as he often did.

until you felt the urge to try something new, not because what you did before wasn't enough, but because your body was asking for more. for the first time, a sensation spread through you, making you want more and more. You needed more of sungchan at that moment.

you slid your hands under his shirt and kissed your way down his neck, making him release small sounds, sounds you had never heard before, but you loved them.

you kept going, and so did he. one of his hands slipped inside your shirt and under your bra, playing with your hardened nipple. a gasp of pure pleasure escaped your lips, it was the first time you had felt anything like this, and you couldn’t think about anything else.

not knowing what else to do, sungchan started moving you, guiding you to grind against his lap. he positioned you directly over his hardness. you were surprised to feel him like that, but without thinking too much, you did what he wanted.

without warning, sungchan’s hand slipped down to your heat, still covered by your pants, and he started rubbing your sensitive spot quickly. you were completely lost in the overwhelming and new sensations flooding your body.

until your hand moved down to his hard length, ready to pull it out from his boxers.

but before you could, he suddenly lifted you off his lap, covered his face with both hands, and whispered:

"i'm sorry, i got carried away… but i can't do this."

and he left, leaving you confused and drowning in a sea of emotions.

you thought that, in a few days, he’d come back to invite you for ice cream or a baseball game.

but he didn’t.

two weeks passed without hearing from him.

then, he reached out to talk. he said it was best to keep some distance for a while, and he was clear about it:

"if we’re meant to be, we’ll find our way back to each other someday."

you knew it was the right decision, but it still hurt.

that night, you called shotaro. he took you for a walk in the park, listening as you poured your heart out. he hugged you and comforted you, whispering:

"everything will be okay, just give it time."

months passed. time moved forward. and then, the others arrived.

shotaro and sungchan joined the music club, where they met riize. you weren’t in the club, but you visited them sometimes.

and it was on one of those days that anton saw you for the first time.

from that moment on, you were the only person he could think about.

the day anton first saw you in the music club, sungchan noticed his reaction immediately.

it was subtle, but sungchan knew him well enough, even after such a short time, to catch it:

the way anton looked at you a little longer than necessary.

the way he smiled just from hearing your voice.

the way he got nervous when you talked to him.

the way he found excuses to include you in the conversation, despite his shyness.

sungchan wasn’t the only one who noticed.

"he likes her," shotaro whispered to sungchan one afternoon, when anton was staring at you while you laughed with the others.

sungchan didn’t reply. he just watched anton, wondering if it was really true.

over time, his suspicions were confirmed.

anton always found an excuse to ask sungchan things about you.

he wanted to know what you liked, how you were when you weren’t around them.

he made sure you were invited to every plan.

until one day, it was sungchan who encouraged him to talk to you, since he was sure he no longer had any feelings for you and thought that by doing so, he could confirm that his chapter with you was completely closed.

"she's a good girl," he told him. "take your time to get to know her."

he was sincere. he truly believed anton was a good guy. and almost two years had passed since everything happened.

but now, seeing anton getting closer to you, there was something inside him that refused to accept that someone else would take his place.

the first few times you went out with anton, sungchan tried to convince himself that he didn’t care.

but he did. a lot.

especially when he saw you with him.

when he really saw how anton looked at you, how he cared for you, how you also started opening your heart to him… that was when he realized that what he felt for you had never fully died.

of course, he couldn’t say anything, it wouldn’t be fair to anyone. he had let his moment pass; he had made the decision to walk away, to do the right thing.

but he couldn’t say anything.

so, he masked it with jokes, sarcastic comments, playful shoves, light punches, a passive-aggressive kind of affection.

"where are you going all dressed up?" he teased when you ignored him to talk to anton.

"do you not have time for us mere mortals anymore?"

and you answered just the same:

"oh, don’t be so dramatic, Sungchan."

to everyone else, it seemed like you two were always bickering. but in reality, only the two of you knew that those "fights" were just a way to disguise something that shouldn’t still exist, but had never really gone away.

only shotaro knew.

he saw what others didn’t.

he saw how sometimes, when you thought no one was watching, sungchan would stare at you in silence.

he saw how, when anton held your hand, sungchan looked away, as if it hurt.

until that party came.

it was anton’s birthday. everyone was having a good time, he was busy tending to the guests, and you and sungchan were in a corner, your little nostalgia-filled nook, with a few too many drinks.

both of you had a little alcohol in your system, but not enough to lose control, but enough for the barrier of "what ifs" to crack a little. His eyes shone with something more than just the dim lights of the place. A conversation that starts like any other, a sarcastic joke, laughter, until nostalgia sneaks in between.

under the table, almost without you noticing, his hand searches for yours, like in those days when you couldn’t hold hands in public. but this time, it’s different. it’s no longer a secret, it’s a goodbye disguised as a touch.

"you know… i don’t think u ever said it properly, but i really liked you." a small silence, his thumb brushes lightly over the back of your hand.

"but not your age." he lets out a short, somewhat bitter laugh, as if mocking himself.

"so, i did the right thing, even though…" he looks you straight in the eyes, a hint of sadness masked as maturity. "even though sometimes i wonder what it would’ve been like if…"

his voice fades, as if he doesn’t want to finish the sentence, because it no longer matters.

and there you are, feeling a whirlwind of emotions inside you. It’s not that you want to go back. it’s not that you doubt what you have with anton. but those words awaken something within you, a memory, an echo, a possibility that will never be.

before you can say anything, sungchan slowly releases your hand and lets out a sigh with a small smile.

"but i’m happy that you’re happy."

and with that, he lifts his glass, toasts to you in silence. both of you knew there was no point in saying anything more.

so, you just gave him a sad smile and let go of his hand.

and when anton returned to your side, sungchan just stared at his glass, trying to ignore the emptiness in his chest.

now, with anton in your life, that past with sungchan is a secret you prefer not to mention. not because it’s something bad, but because there’s no point in bringing it up. anton doesn’t suspect a thing, because sungchan and you never let it seem like anything more.

because that’s how it is, some stories end before they even begin, but they always leave a mark.

well hahah, as you can see, i have a lot of ideas all of a sudden! i was going to start writing it last night but i fell asleep (sorry) but here it is:) i have to bring out my masochistic and dramatic side as a good pisces 😼 i'll do part 2? idk, i love you guys 🩵

[rottenherbs]

The March into Spring // H.P x hufflepuff! Reader

Summary: Springtime came with the rebirth of nature and the energy amongst the students. With most of your time shooed away to nature, a well known wizard seemed to have bonded to you from afar - 

Word count: 1.3k

Authors note: the weather where I live has warmed exponentially and I’m feeling the strangest fomo for the Hogwarts student and the castle during this time of year 

[masterlist]

Much love, Saige

———

You always felt like March was the true start of the year. The way the flowers bloomed and life regrew out of the softened dirt. The frost on the stone had melted, the birds woke you in the morning, and the windows around the castle became propped open. 

The soft breeze of spring was around every corner and you could sense the students awaken into a new form of themselves. 

You enjoyed the happiness that came with the change of seasons. The cold barred everyone inside yet the warmth almost shoved everyone outside. Looking at the castle felt as if it had its own rebirth. 

The beauty of the stone and vines whispered to you, Mother Nature lulling you to the greenery with every whip of wind. 

You weren’t one for the study of herbology, but your love for nature was undeniable. Your green thumb came with ease, spending your early mornings in the dew, finding new spots to spend your time alone. 

Yet someone always seemed to have their eye on you, even if you didn’t notice. 

Harry didn’t mean to be creepy, rather it was his anxieties holding him back. It was easier to stay afar; to admire you like you admired the trees. It was challenging sometimes finding you, the outskirts of the castle were bountiful, the endless possibilities of hidden areas you could’ve been. 

But somehow he found you. Every time. 

Whether it was just sheer dumb luck or the power of Mother Nature bringing you together. It felt cosmic. 

With the conclusion of each new rule Umbridge added, it became easier to slip through her wrath outside and away from prying eyes. 

It was after your last lecture on a friday, feeling especially free from the stress of classes making your way through the hallways. Most of the students rushed to their house common rooms undressing from the school robes into something more causal for the big quidditch game later that evening. 

You didnt hate quidditch, it just wasn’t exactly how you’d like to spend your free time. You made note to go to at least two games a year and luckily for you, you had already filled that quota. Unluckily for you, it seemed that hufflepuff lost each game you went to. 

Feeling like there was some ill-fated bone in your body, you steered clear from the match against Gryffindor tonight, wishing them best of luck from afar. 

Harry liked to unwind before matches - finding the energy of the game much more draining if he celebrated before rather than after. Most of the gryffindor team were preparing together down by the pitch , but Harry had other plans. 

“She has to be around here somewhere” Harry thought to himself. He fretted lightly, ignoring the prying eyes of students as he walked down the hallways. His head stayed on a swivel, hoping with every step he was getting closer to seeing you. 

 ———

You had a herbology class together last year. Though very little words were spoken to each other, you were paired up for a small project to better house relations. Professor Sprout deeply believed in pairing up students herself and breaking up the usual suspects. 

For better or for worse, you both kept silent, only speaking about the work and how to properly pot a venomous tentacula without breaking out into intense skin burning hives. Not exactly romantic, but both of your hearts were racing just beneath your robes. 

———-

Ever since that class, his eyes found you in a crowd. The golden robes fit so well with your complexion, lighting up the room as if your smile was the sun. 

With only a few hours to spare, Harry scoured the castle border, attempting to look as casual as possible. Something within him felt like he had to say something you. Anything. 

The unknowing of it all burned in his chest. Being rejected would certainly ease the pain of his thoughts, ease the pain of his yearning. 

Just out of the corner of his eye, he spotted you. Crouched lightly over a bed of sprouting dandelions. He watched you for a second, noticing how your hands grazed the top of the sprouts so delicately. Your fingers lingered over one that was ready to pick, yet your hesitation held you back. 

Harry took a step forward,

“It’s now or never.” 

“Oy! Mate we’re gonna miss-“ Ron’s booming voice echoed the courtyard, the thumping of his feet and bookbag following just behind. Harry watched your head snap up and meet his gaze before directing your attention elsewhere. 

Harry’s hand was mid air, ready to wave but brought short. Ron’s hand slapped Harry’s shoulder - his boisterous excitement falling once he noticed Harry’s eyes. 

“Ohhhhhhh” Ron smirked. “Still on that bird?” His eyes bounced between you and Harry.

 A rise of crimson covered Harry’s face, unbenounced to Ron whether it was out of anger or embarrassment. 

“She’s not a bird.” Harry whispered, turning away from Ron, stepping quite dramatically away. 

“Har- please,, I didn’t mean it like that.” Ron jogged to catch up to Harry. Both of them were unaware that you were sneaking glances, noticing the oddity of their actions. 

“You should go talk to her.” 

“Well I was planning on it-“

“Listen,” Ron coughed, fully sensing his interruption. “ I’ll …. I’ll go find Hermione and you do whatever.. it is you have to do.” Ron stifled, slightly unsure how to support his best friend. Harry shook his head and tightened his lips into a smile. 

“We’ll talk later.” Ron shouted once more, jogging back to the castle with ease. 

“Godrick save me.” Harry mumbled, taking a deep breath in and turning back to face you. 

He kept his head down, looking left and right periodically. You couldn’t have been more than thirty meters away but the walk was absolutely agonizing. 

You watched him walk towards you, waiting until he was close enough to speak. 

“Hey Harry.” You quipped looking up at the boy. His body language was tout, his hands stuffed in his pockets fidgeting slightly under the fabric. 

“Hey y/n.” Harry stammered. 

“What’s up?” You asked, adjusting your position and sitting flat on the ground. The sun hit his face abruptly as the wind blew, moving the large tree above you both. 

He squinted his eyes, adjusting his glasses, wracking his brain for literally anything to say to you.  

“I was wondering if you were going to the game tonight.” Harry asked. The words almost falling off his lips, each word coming in quick succession. 

“I wasn’t planning on it -“ you shrugged, your eyes dotting the grass next to you. Should you ask him to sit? 

“Oh.” Harry whispered. You could sense the disappointment in your answer, almost feeling an immediate want to backtrack your reply. 

“But I'm free,” you smiled quickly. “I could manage it. You’re playing tonight eh?” You asked plainly, more than aware he was playing. The light sparked in his eyes once you asked. 

“Uh yeah!” He chuffed, exhaling the small breath of air that was trapped in his lungs.  

“I’ll cheer you on.. if you’d like.” You babbled, unsure of his intentions of asking. 

“Oh please wouldn’t you like to cheer on your own team?” He laughed, a sense of relief washing over his mind. He broke the ice - it felt much more natural to talk now. 

“Suppose you’ll have to play so well that I’ll have no choice.” 

And like that, the nerves rose once again to his throat. 

“I suppose I’ll have to.” 

———

[marigoldsandbuttercups]

(I definitely did not accidentally fuck this one up somehow lol)

"Why are you familiar? How do you know my level 10 tragic backstory-"

Sans: It takes him a long ass time to do something about this. It's not that he doesn't notice it, he does. He just wants to make sure that he hasn't lost his shit from everything that's happened and that the way you look at him, the things you say imply that you know far more than you let on. It feels easy to him, way too easy that it scares him to trust that you really do remember him as he does with you. He's scared that there's something behind all this, a horrible, horrible trick being played upon him by the stars.

He kind of doesn't do anything at first, to be honest. He doesn't know how to feel about it, it's all so mixed. Happy that he's not the only one, and yet confused, why after so long.. You remember everything now? It's very overwhelming, surprisingly, but one thing that makes him feel (somewhat) at ease is that you remember him. That you never forgot him in a timeline that no longer exists. Though, he won't confront it.. not until he has to, at least. (Or if you confront him about it when he's desperately trying to be evasive cause what the fuck-)

Papyrus: He's more observant than he lets on, and he's certain that you're aware of this fact. How, though, is an interesting question. One that he can't quite come up with an answer, for it to make sense. Even his own brother isn't this aware of Papyrus' abilities, his insecurities, his troubles but you. You seem to know him like the back of your hand, and that honestly frightens him at first because when did he become so easy to read? His soul warms with glee at finally being seen, to be heard and understood but the fact that it's in such a deeply intimate way without him ever recalling mentioning such facts is what has got him stunned.

Does it have something to do with the fact that you're so familiar? That when he looks at you, he doesn't... He doesn't see a total stranger. And while that sentiment does extend to others as he wishes to make many friends, it just doesn't fit right with you. You always just stood out to him in a way that somewhat reminded him of Frisk. Of his little flower friend. It spins his head, but he's eager to learn about you just like how you have him all figured out. It's scary but.. When he's with you, he doesn't feel that fear as strongly, and that urges him to try and work this out with you. (Assuming you don't tell him everything yet lolol)