#no more than either could take away any other creation's identity

[readwithnox]

10 Indie Fantasy Books with A-spec Main Characters

Enjoy some magical a-spec spec-fic.

From asexual to aromantic and every variation inbetween, these fantasy books have a wonderful selection of a-spec LGBTQIA+ main characters for your next read!

While some of these books don’t outright announce some of the characters’ identities in the story, there are cues that a-spec readers are likely to pick up on either in the first book or later in the series. For the ones that aren’t completely obvious, I’ve received confirmation from the authors.

Structural Integrity

by Tabitha O’Connell Fantasy Romance featuring an a-spec trans mc

Messenger boy Kel never expected to strike up a romance with a government official. But Yaan lacks the self-important snobbery of the others, seeing Kel as more than just a pretty face. Living with him in the city’s plush government complex is everything Kel could want: no more expenses, kitchen workers and resident animals to befriend, and of course seeing Yaan every day. Even if Yaan does spend most of his time working or worrying about work, and seems to have forgotten that they used to have actual conversations…

When the city decides to tear down the iconic theater building in Kel’s old neighborhood, Yaan’s indifference toward his pleas to help save it forces Kel to confront his growing unhappiness. In the aftermath, both will have to decide whether their relationship is salvageable.

Song of Phoenix and Ink

by Margherita Scialla New Adult Portal Fantasy featuring an a-spec mc and a-spec li

All Nadzia Kaminski wanted was to finish writing her novel.

When she finally finished the manuscript for Crimson Mayhem, she did what any writer would: gave it to her best friend to read. Her friend’s reaction, however, wasn’t what she had expected and, upset by her criticism, Nadzia left her at the café where they had met.

Waking up the next morning, Nadzia was no longer in her bedroom, finding herself in a world of her creation, surrounded by dangerous magic and vaguely familiar settings.

With a country at war and no clear way home, time is running out and Nadzia has to find a way to gain the trust of the very people she created and figure out her confusing feelings for two of her own characters.

She soon realizes stories aren’t perfect when there is no one left to write them.

Dirt-Stained Hands, Thorn-Pierced Skin

by Tabitha O’Connell Fantasy Romance featuring an a-spec nonbinary mc and a-spec li

A queer, Beauty-and-the-Beast-inspired novella

Heron thought ey wanted to be with handsome, charming Tiel — but the relationship hasn’t quite lived up to eir expectations. With Tiel’s confidence comes a tendency to be overbearing, and now he wants Heron to leave eir farm life behind and move to town with him. And Heron can’t figure out how to explain to him that ey doesn’t want that.

When an accident strands Heron’s mother at a castle rumored to belong to a family of mages, Heron rushes off to make sure she’s all right — only to find the castle occupied by a single man who isn’t a mage at all. Prone to hiding behind his long mess of hair, the mysterious Theomer possesses a long-neglected, semi-magical garden. A job tending it is Heron’s perfect opportunity for some time away from Tiel while ey decides what to tell him.

Heron did not plan to be drawn in by Theomer’s attentive gaze and understated sense of humor. But as an undeniable bond forms between them, ey’s soon going to have a much bigger choice to make…

A Searing Faith

by Audrey Martin Epic Dark Fantasy featuring an aroace fmc

When sixteen-year-old Rena finds herself the sole survivor of the fire that destroyed her home town, the only thing keeping her going is the suspicion that the tragedy wasn’t an accident. She is determined to find those responsible, no matter how far her quest might take her. But no one in charge of the kingdom of Kal-Hemma seems to care that this isn’t the first town destroyed by a mysterious fire. And according to Rena’s travelling companions, there’s a lot the members of the Royal Council aren’t telling their subjects.

If Rena is truly the only survivor of the tragedy, why did she find her sister’s ring outside of their destroyed home?

Who planted the strange bird figurines around the town’s church before the fire?

And what do the old, forgotten Gods have to do with any of this?

A Searing Faith is the first book in an epic fantasy series and based on the award-winning, interactive audio drama The Heart Pyre.

A Kind Voice in Hell

by Ames Mullery Urban Fantasy featuring an a-spec trans mc

What’s a few years of bloody gladiator matches and witchcraft-for-hire when your best friend’s life is on the line?

To cover the soaring costs of his best friend’s life-saving healthcare Lark signs away everything he’s got — his body, his freedom, even his witchcraft — to a billionaire who plays at philanthropy for entertainment. Although Lark may have the heart of a saint, he doesn’t have the patience of one. It isn’t long before he begins to rock the boat and ends up threatening the very people he wants to save in his reckless heroics.

A KIND VOICE IN HELL is a story about an occult-obsessed billionaire looking for away to bring gladiators into the twenty-first century, a trans man with a hero complex who has never known illness a day in his life, and the disabled people caught in the middle. It contains queer love, found family, and a hero who needs to sit down and shut up before he tries to help anyone.

Follow Lark as he forges an unlikely alliance on the inside and weaves masterful spellwork in hopes of changing the world for the better.

Havesskadi

by Ava Kelly Fantasy featuring an a-spec mc

The red dragon is hunting her own. Up in the icy peaks of the northern mountains, Orsie Havesskadi spends his days hiding from her, but eventually he is found and his dragon magic stolen. Cursed to wander the lands as a mortal unless he recovers his magic before twenty-four rising crescents have passed, Orsie embarks on an arduous journey. Spurred by the whispers in his mind, his quest takes him to a castle hidden deep in a forest.

Arkeva Flitz, a skilled garrison archer, discovers an abandoned castle in the woods. Trapped there, he spends his days with his two companions, one cruel, the other soothing. One day, a young man arrives at his gates, and soon they are confined by heavy snowfalls and in danger from what slumbers in the shadows of the castle.

The Thirteenth Key

by Cara Nox New Adult Science Fantasy featuring an ace mmc

The chaotic crew of heisting misfits in Leigh Bardugo’s Six of Crows meets the familiar yet fantastical, modern landscape found in Robert Jackson Bennett’s City of Stairs.

“The thirteen emblems given to the original rulers weren’t just symbols. They’re keys to the Vault — one that no one’s ever opened.”

Noa has lived her life as an unsuspecting, ID-burning, face in the crowd that disposes of “problems” for her miscellaneous, secretive employers. So, when Noa’s surrogate father — a Seer — hands her a long-lost emblem, telling her with his dying breath that it’s her responsibility to reignite magic, she laughs at the idea that the fate of their world rests on the shoulders of a killer. Instead, she uses his words and the key he gave her as an excuse to go on one final suicide mission to seek out the power supposedly waiting for her to annihilate his murderer.

Prince Glacier Caelius has lived his life trapped inside a gilded cage, pushed down by the ever-present threat of death as the bastard son of Amarais’s late king. But when the rebels attack during a nationalist party, Glacier’s rescued by none other than Noa and her merry band of thieves, who are scrambling to salvage a failed attempt at stealing his country’s emblem: the Soul of Amarais. When the dust settles, he’s the only person left alive to unlock the palace vault and give the Soul to Noa in exchange for saving his life.

Well, once they’re able to formulate a plan to take the palace back.

Struggling with their tentative, newfound freedom, Noa and Glacier must learn to work together to survive the urban landscape of Avaria’s greatest cities fortified by technology in the wake of dwindling magic. The goal: steal as many keys as they can before their pasts catch up. But the further they go, the more they realize that something worse may be lurking on the horizon, and they may very well be the only ones able to stop it.

Bloody Spade

by Brittany M. Willows Young Adult Urban Fantasy featuring an ace fmc, aro mmc, and demi fmc

Bloody Spade is the first installment in an upper YA urban fantasy duology that follows a cat-eared thief and a softhearted girl as they navigate his wild magic, her hotheaded brother, a sinister plot, and the feelings they’re developing for each other. Suitable for fans of A Darker Shade of Magic and This Savage Song, or anime/manga such as RWBY and D.Gray-Man.

A girl full of heart A thief touched by darkness A hot-tempered golden boy An unwitting servant of evil

The era of magic was once thought to be a myth, but after the Reemergence ushered forces both dark and light into the mundane world, it has since become a harsh reality. Now those affected by this strange power — a specialized group of Empowered called Jokers, known collectively as Cardplay — must protect their world from the darkness that threatens to consume it, all the while fighting for equality in a society clinging to normalcy.

But the Reemergence was only the beginning.

When another influx occurs on the seventh anniversary of that fateful event, an unfortunate encounter at ground zero lands Iori Ryone, a teenage boy in possession of a corrupt and legendary magic, in the care of recent Joker graduate Ellen Amelia Jane. From him, she learns the Reemergence may not have been the inevitable natural disaster it first seemed.

Someone is trying to tear down the barrier that separates the magical realms from the mundane. The question is why, and can Cardplay stop them before it’s too late?

Tell Me How It Ends

by Quinton Li Young Adult Fantasy featuring an aroace nonbinary mc

A coming-of-age cozy fantasy with a queer cast, witches, and tarot. Perfect for fans of Legends & Lattes and Our Flag Means Death.

Iris Galacia’s tarot cards do more than entertain gamblers.

With the flip of her fingers she can predict the future and uncover a person’s secrets. But under the watchful eye of her mother, she is on thin ice for pursuing a passion in the family business, and then cracks start to form until she eventually she falls through.

She is given an ultimatum — a test to prove her worth: earn a thousand coins or leave the business, and the family.

Enter Marin Boudreau, a charming young person who can scale buildings and break off door knobs, who comes for her help to rescue a witch who’s been falsely imprisoned in Excava Kingdom.

And Marin is willing to pay a high sum for her talents.

But saving a prisoner from royal hands isn’t easy, nor is leaving home for the first time in eighteen years.

Now Iris must learn to trust in herself, Marin, and this new magical world, while racing the clock before the royals decide the fate of the witch, and before any secrets catch up to her.

Trick

By Cara Nox New Adult Urban Fantasy featuring a demi fmc and aroace mmc

Cassandra Clare’s The Mortal Instruments series meets V.E. Schwab’s The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue with a dash of Disney+’s Loki in this new adult urban fantasy.

WELCOME TO NEW ATLAS: A CITY WITHIN A REALITY JUST BEYOND OUR OWN.

Evie is a nobody. Spending her days in college classes and her nights studying, having a social life has never really been a priority. With her sights firmly set on the future to keep away her thoughts of the past, she loses her grip on the present when her world is ripped out from under her. And it’s all thanks to two mysterious strangers showing up on her doorstep, claiming that she can turn back time.

Cade is a notorious troublemaker. He’s never been afraid to throw around his name to get what he wants as someone who’s clawed his way to the top. But power is quick to change hands in this city, and when he chooses to blatantly disregard an order from his leader, his older brother, he’s tossed back down to the bottom again. He’ll be more than lucky to regain any sort of trust when everyone knows he’s one of the best spies there is, sliding in and out of shadows in the blink of an eye.

Ren is a bored teenager. Always labeled as the “golden child” or “gifted student,” he finds himself writing down cryptic messages and following strange leads, rather than putting on the same old song and dance for his family. Especially once he discovers his little stolen fragments of the future are starting to take a darker turn. Perhaps chasing the life everyone wants him to have isn’t necessarily in the cards for him, but there’s only one way to find out.

So when someone within the secret society known as the Custodians targets Evie for her power, the clock starts in the final sprint to hunt down the culprit. In order to uncover whatever hidden clues are lurking in the past, the three of them have no choice but to peel back the layers of obscurity built up between their factions to figure out why she’s being hunted and how they might be able to fix their bleak futures before it’s too late.

Just remember: time is nothing but a trick.

Follow the divine archivists on twitter for more queer indie lists, reviews, and recommendations.

Where to find Cara Nox: instagram • twitter • writing tumblr • reading tumblr

Disclaimer: anything purchased through the links provided in this article helps me continue writing with compensation through Amazon’s affiliate program.

[the-east-art]

Ode to the Tree Lightning Struck - Wip part 3

Joey drives, Ness takes shotgun, and Sylvin sits in the backseat. It’s somehow more uncomfortable than the last time Sylvin recalls sitting here - sometime during the mad dash to resummon Arakiel to Sylvin before a demon could find her as an open vessel. Probably a year and a half ago now, give or take. The seats are made up of cheap faux-leather - which is to say plastic - that’s cracking and peeling in places. The car is an old Nissan that’s still kicking probably due to prayers - in fact, now that Sylvin is thinking about it, maybe due to prayers specifically to Arakiel. Joey and Ness don’t have a lot of money, and Sylvin is unsure if they have the knowledge required to keep the junker alive as long as it has been. It feels a little ironic that the hunters of supernatural phenomena drive around in a car that is basically a zombie, only living off of parts taken from different, newer models. 

Sylvin considers sharing the idea to the others, but the air of the car is still thick with tension and unwelcoming to Sylvin and any conversation she might bring. This discomfort is of her own creation. Some part of her wanted this outcome, but sitting in the silence of the car trying not to make the plastic squeak too loudly when she moves to adjust her position, that desire feels very far away. 

She alternates picking at the plastic of the seat and the loose threads from the holes in her jeans. They were a little big on her, and the bra a little small, and none of it was really her style, but clothes were clothes. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, and Sylvin certainly felt like a beggar right now. No phone on her - she had the vague impression that it hadn’t ‘traveled’ well with Arakiel over the last four years, or that Arakiel just hadn’t seen a reason to keep track of it. No wallet either - she hadn’t had her purse on her when Arakiel had taken her as her vessel, so it was who knows where by now. Just her luck she’d look into her bank when she got a chance and find out her identity had been stolen EVEN MORE than it had by Arakiel and now she was in debt or something. 

In the front seat, Joey adjusts the music on her phone and her places it back in the ‘speaker’ - a glass cup that sits in the cup holder as a makeshift way to amplify the sound. It makes each of the songs adopt a tinny quality to them. 

The progress east was a combination of both reasons Sylvin had hypothesized: a mixture short days driving and a meandering direction. It felt like they were on some kind of a victory lap after saving the world - checking up on different people the pair had crossed paths with over the last four years. It made a kind of sense - see who was still kicking, pay respect to those who had died, and make sure that everyone that had been involved in the shitstorm knew that it was over.

Didn’t make Sylvin like it though. 

It made her feel like a child, being toted around by her parents and forced to sit off awkwardly on the sidelines while she was introduced to strangers. The entire affair was a lot like family reunions or church - back when Sylvin and her siblings would all stand slightly behind her mom, waiting for her to be done chatting about keylime pie recipes or whatever it was the moms discussed in church parking lots while their kids baked in the sun, reflecting off the dark asphalt. Those were the only instances where Sylvin actually envied the crazy Sunday hats the grandma’s wore. Sylvin and her three siblings would usually end up standing like dominos or some bizarre version of matryoshka dolls - line up so they were standing in eachothers shadows for at least a small reprieve from the heat. Atlas the unfortunate tallest of the bunch, bore the sunlight on his own. Or alternatively ran around the parking lot as a moving target, preventing the rest of them from using his shade. 

Just today they’d met up with 3 different people and 3 gravesites. Only one of the cemeteries had been planned - someone, a civilian, who had died on a job three years ago. The other two had been new deaths. A fellow hunter, vampire got the best of them. The other someone they had saved from the jaws of death already, took care of a poltergeist that had been hounding them. Didn’t matter - dead now - car crash. Bad luck. 

[crimsonlyinglilly]

From the first moment of freedom to the return to earth.

New fic, or old one I never thought I'd share, not The Originals, surprised. a return to The 100, with a new fic

What is it to be Human?

Bellamy was long ago a fragment of death and Raven was the trickster, a hundred years of hiding in metal parted from the earth that birthed them, they find themselves fading.

But this is the start, a tale of how a shard of the void became more until it became a little boy.

---

What is death without life, everything must balance. 

So they exist, the cold end of it all, they could step past the veil to watch the world, the souls that would eventually come to them but other than that first moment they could never return to the pain of creation and the memory of that too hot flash, that hadn’t matter to them at first.

It was at the beginning a shard of the end. 

*

He ran, long ago when there seemed to be nothing but death as the humans were fading, entire jungles, tribes and cities, starving and falling to diseases. 

(it’s a child that breaks him, a little girl who never got to see the world taking her last breath before she could adventure forth, instead of taking her soul he shifts it to the tiny mouse deer form, granting her last wish allowing her freedom to roam the forests.)

They fled leaving his sibling, Otherparts, for they are many parts of one whole, to fulfil their job of collecting and leading the lost souls. He runs from the rich forest islands to the large dry outback, to the larger plains.

He wandered, shifting to fit into the mortals as they recovered and spread further. As the human fraught, attacked and killed each other pointless in his view, as the humans grew old or faded from illness. 

He gives in one day on a different set of islands, finds two new beings more than human but less than what he was,  and gave himself to them, he feels them tear him apart and his awareness vanishes into nothing for a blissful while they are nothing, until he is born again. 

Gaia and Nyx unite, retrieving the shattered parts of him and putting them together again. 

Dolos at first is free from the weight of they had fled from at first, a trick on himself as much as the humans claim he tricks them. Gaia cares in a way he had only seen in humans, his siblings are different this time no longer a part of him.

Time passes humans grow, fall, he takes another name, Hermes and for a time switches between identities, for the first time interacting with the living mortals, even goes as far as having children with them and the other of his new kind.

Charon watches him and Dolos avoids his judgement, he may not have been the only one of his otherparts to flee into a new life but he is the only one to avoid their task and reason for creation.

Eventually the pantheon strength starts to wanes, those who gained their power from the human’s worship weaken along with it and Hermes walks away.

He learns from the creatures that are forced to hide from the growing humans, Harpies, Sirens and other beings not quite them but not human either, he watches over the Roman Empire afterwards under the name of Mercury.

Emperor followed by Emperor, backstabbing, poison and pointless conflict ending them.

*

He finds himself drifting until feels a pulls on Hermes’ blood.

(it’s a child with a grand plan and the drive to make his wish a reality on his own.)

Alexander is not the first Tamer he sees or meets, so long wandering he had been bound to find them but he’s the first with any connection to themselves, grandchild of one of his grandchildren, descendant of Hercules, and Zeus, and as such the first able to control him.

It’s a new feeling for him, one he both hates but wants more of, until it was also the first time Dolos truly tasted mortality.

(Those that carry their blood can hurt them, those that carry some from many can control them.)

It was a simple mistake, he had slipped into the young future Great’s life at a young age and the boy’s, intelligent or natural gift had been left able to see past his ageing glamour, during a spar he had seen further to Dolos’ true face, whatever he had seen had made him go for the kill.

They had died, truly for the first time and for the first time since he fled he found himself on the side of the veil, the one they were created for, the calls of the lost souls, the comforting coldness of his siblings Otherparts, then he woke, Alexander horrified face above him. 

Pulling the sword from his chest is unpleasant but not unfamiliar, feeling his false heart start to beat again, struggling to stand with the stiffness in his limbs are new.

(He wonders if the deep ache unrelated to his body after he wakes is homesickness, which he had heard of.)

Alexander demanded answers and by the end of the discussion had effectively banished him.

For once he doesn’t leave he steps back, hides in the shadow and watches, Alexander rises and falls, just over three decades alive with the empire he built falling apart after him.

He stays afterward and sees the fall of Rome before wandering north.

There he watches as the Nordic gods appear, Loki finds him as he hides within the humans, he supposes if one could it would be a fellow trickster. As the Valkies grow with them, he leaves with the Nordic explorers, as he notices the Shadows of his Otherparts in their wings.

He walks south in this new land, watching the humans, slipping his shape to blend in and listen to their stories. 

It’s not until he’s in the southern continent when he meets them, the trickster from the human’s stories of this land, they come to him in the form of a small wolf, so he shift to the form of a tiny mouse deer, a form he has had longer than the name Dolos, although he doesn’t remember why he holds it so important.

Coyote allows them to stay and he does, he’s half the world away when Byzatian falls and his blood lines fade and fail in the plague and pestilence that run wild for centuries, until two remain and he doesn’t notice.

(a lie, he feels them like threads tangled around his wrists)

New powers rise and fall, eating one another as the humans search for more.

It’s not until invaders appear on the shores that he leaves, following them he sees the shadows of his Otherparts he knows how it will end.

The Coyote snarls as he flees, he mourns their youth to still feel such rage and hopes never to see their Friend lose themself in despair.

(it’s a hope that is dashed centuries later after they return to a home they thought they'd lost.)

He runs searching for the least populated areas barely touched by humans or living within it.

It’s there in his attempts to hide from the humans when he’s mistaken for one and falls for another's trick. 

He can’t remember afterwards which face they had chosen, who they had fallen for but they had, allowing the Tikbalang to lead him off the path. 

As they had revealed their true form, he had lashed out in anger, tiredness he doesn’t remember, only waking to find themselves one.

They remember it another way as well-

They change back after leading the human deep into their forest when the human’s appearance had shifted as well, before it had lunged at them, they don’t remember much after that only waking to find themselves one.

After that he hides in the forests, shifting from the mouse deer that seemed to belong in this place, to ground bird to snake to eagle, anything to avoid his new-old form and need to interact with the wandering humans, a third being or is it fourth? with wants and instincts, throwing off the carefully balanced state he had maintained.

They are not sure they ever manage to get it back, the being from before they had run is louder than ever, the exhaustion of watching the humans repeat their mistakes is conflicted with the relit dark joy of pulling humans astay.

*

Tracey Blake calls him when they are still a child and it manages to pull him out of the chaotic mess their mind had become.

(it’s always a child with dreams of adventure centuries- millennia even and they hadn’t changed.) 

It takes him years to find them and get used to a human form again. Tracey is in university when he meets them, working towards a dream of exploring the stars and space above them, he’s surprised at how far humans had come, in the time he had been hidden. It’s their smile that convinces him to follow, one bright enough to seemingly banish his darkness, so he follows them into the darkness of space, loses contact with his mother-Gaia, with the echoes of the lost souls, his otherparts on the other side of the veil. 

They notice of course brilliant, smart, and able to see though him, they comfort him ‘It shouldn’t be long’ they say just enjoy the firsts.

They're wrong, it was the first false statement he failed to notice as it was spoken to him, in all his life.

But even he couldn’t foresee the humans destroying the planet as well as themselves.

He hears the announcement, like the humans he goes to look out of the windows and watches as the nukes fly but as they land he’s pulled away, the other side is too hot and too loud with the screaming of the confused souls.  

He feels it there, his Otherparts tearing themselves apart to fulfil the need for more of them and then vanishing with the souls with no more need of them, it’s a odd feeling wrong, painful, sharp, far too hot. For a brief moment he returns to his reason for creation, gilding the lost souls and as they fade he returns to the other side of the veil, pulled by Tracey.

Tracey had had family on earth most connected to him through the blood of Dolos, by the time he pulls himself back from his Otherparts those threads are gone, as are the others of his blood, Hermes line, he can’t feel the faint echoes of his siblings through Gaia, bonds in the Pantheons, Greek or Rome.

In the days after he’s  in as much shock as the humans.

It’s not until Tracey returns the night the stations had become one to find him curled in his Mouse deer form, that they really thought what it would be like for a being as old as him, he refuses to change back for years.

(last of the human race and still they couldn’t resist killing one another, no one to whisper in their ears and yet they can’t help it.) 

Tracey notes that the size of that form is useful to hide and the weakly offered smile may have been one of the few things that prevented him from joining the many that threw themselves back to earth in the early days. 

He’s not the only one non-human on the Ark as they call it, he can feel them scattered, he doesn’t look for them staying hidden for the same reason he thinks they avoid him, would meeting them make it settle that they could be all that's left.

It doesn’t last, they are halfway through their second decade when a presence appears behind him, the small wolf seems large when standing behind his sitting tiny mouse deer in the reflection, for a moment he tries to ignore them focusing on the view of home. The clouds had cleared and while there were different areas he could imagine living in, his forest and islands should have escaped the worst.

The Coyote is angry and he are almost jealous of his rage, they shift their form for the discussion and they choose to take the one that had started them off the path.

The little girl he once freed to wander the forest that had now burned.

She returns to Tracey in the human form and spends the rest of her life like that, she switches her form when out of the Blake quarters but within them she stays, it’s the form her children know and the one her granddaughter Aurora grows up with.

It not until Aurora’s in her teens that they notices the weakening, the way the changes take longer the physical tiredness, it’s not until they pass out that he looks for another, Fenris was already ahead of them when they ask him of the fading strength, it the last time they talk however and before they can think of a solution Fenris uses his own and get himself floated. 

It’s Aurora’s plan in the end, to prevent them from using their powers and the need to use them, they make themselves human, locking all their memories and powers away. They had told her stories of others doing it but had never done it himself.

After all it had taken to balance who they are and lock it away to create another was asking for a headache later but the growing weakness, waking up to stiff limbs, he never used to need to sleep, had push him into agreeing, he trusts Aurora to protect the child that takes his place, he knows her better than he did Gaia.

(Perhaps they shouldn’t have trusted the child with Aurora) 

And so Bellamy Blake is born. A little boy with a thirst for stories, a fear of something he could never understand and a coldness he couldn’t explain.

(And years later The Coyote becomes Raven Reyes.)

He doesn’t remember anything until he’s twelve, reading-remembering stories to a little girl locked away from the adventures she wanted because of him and he looks up to see Aurora’s worn weak smile.

He gets her killed, and Octavia locked up truly and facing death.

Alone in the Blake’s quarters, silence without the memories of his ghost he laughs, last thread wrapped around his palm and a pair of sharpen scissors in the other, all he had left after such a long existence he’s almost tempted to follow Fenris’ example, but as long as there's something he could to for Octavia he’ll try. After her though he will, he’s given up on them, on humans if he loses his last thread they can all burn as he returns to the cold.

Its not until he’s pointing the gun at the Chancellor that he realises he had never killed before, he's a piece of the void of death itself he's never meant to deliver it.

A piece of him has, many times but that piece has slept since they had forgotten the touch of trees and roots.

Was really about to start because of some pointless political game.

Humans, maybe he had become to close to them.

On the earth he almost wants to leave them, as he reconnected he can image-feel the wings he learnt from the Harpies wanting to form and almost see the view of gliding over the barely inhabited land but-

(It's always a child.)

Octavia’s smile looks too much like Tracey’s and he can feel other humans around, older more experienced humans surrounding these young naïve children, so he tampers down those feelings, swallows the urge to change and grow his wings back down and smiles at her joy.

[justjessame]

Babysitting Butcher: Chapter 65

The Boys LOVED their new freedom to do what they’d set out to do from the beginning - without actually killing anyone. OK, there were a few hiccups, but honestly it wasn’t their fault that Termite sneezed and burst apart that guy’s entire lower half from the dick out. Who could have foreseen that?

I ended up being office bound, looking through files - files that I felt certain Victoria Neuman might blow a gasket if she knew I had dug up.

I realized that I had no idea where Neuman had come from. No clue as to her background other than as a rebel rousing new Congresswoman who seemingly knew all of the hottest buttons to push to get herself in the public spotlight in only the best light.

Where did she begin? I knew that all politicians had to undergo a background check, and if she was eyeing the Vice Presidency, then I also knew that the check she’d gone through to get to first base was going to look like a merry-go-round compared to what was coming. So I decided to get that shit started.

Parents were the first one, which were named on the form that she had to have before being put on any ballot. I looked up the names and found - nothing. And not nothing in a way that meant these were law abiding and simple people like she probably waxed on about in townhalls and during her campaign. I mean nothing as it absolutely fuck all. These people didn’t exist past the creation of their fucking names.

That meant that she wasn’t born in the city and state she put down either, which meant more digging.

Help came in the unlikeliest of places. Hughie Campbell came into the office looking like he’d seen a ghost fucking a unicorn in the middle of Willy Wonka’s factory and I pushed him into a chair and locked the door while I waited for him to unleash whatever terror he’d clearly witnessed.

When he let it go, when he told me what he saw as he crouched behind a fucking dumpster, it all started to make sense.

Why she hadn’t given two shits that we’d made no progress on finding the identity of the most terrifying supe ever acknowledged. Why nothing in her bio was factual or able to be independently confirmed. Why she wanted Billy and the others focused on supe nuance calls rather than on finding the one supe that might actually be physically worse than Homelander.

“It was Neuman,” it came out hushed, not because I felt she was watching or listening, but rather because I hadn’t fucking seen it. Fucking shit. “And you saw her in action?” The way poor Hughie swallowed and looked like he’d rather burn out his own fucking retina rather than see it again told me all I really needed to know. “Shit.” “What are we going to do?” He sounded so freaked out that I slid an unopened bottle of water across the desk and shook my head. I might have ideas, but I wasn’t touching this one without Billy and the others present.

“I can’t go back,” Hughie was arguing against a return to the Congresswoman’s office and I honestly couldn’t disagree with his logic. “If she has even an inkling that I saw her -”

“Poof,” Frenchie gestured toward his own head exploding and nodded to acknowledge that Hughie wasn’t wrong in the slightest.

The issue wasn’t that we wanted him in more danger than he was already by being a part of Billy’s group, it was that we weren’t sure how to disengage him from service without arousing suspicion from the supe that was clearly fucking dangerous.

“Break my arm,” he said with the same casualness that I might ask Billy to hand me a spoon, but the tone belied the fear in his eyes as the words left his mouth. “If I’m incapacitated, then she won’t be able to -”

“Permanently incapacitate you.” I nodded, but then my eyes widened when I realized he wanted Kimiko to do the honors.

I didn’t look away as she took his arm in her hands. I didn’t flinch as I heard the crack that told me she’d managed it. I did have to walk to the corner as they discussed how to take care of the result from aiding Hughie in leaving Neuman’s office. He was taken to the hospital, then off to the apartment he shared with Starlight.

“You alright?” We were on our way home, Terror between us looking as happy as he always did after spending the day with the grandparents. Billy and I had hardly had a chance to breathe, much less speak since dropping him off.

I considered his question. Was I alright? Let me take stock. Victoria Neuman, a crusader for supe accountability was a supe who hadn’t faced any consequences for the actions she’d taken in the use of her powers - aka murdering a shit ton of people, one of whom was my former superior and friend. I was sterile, with god knew what other changes to my very genetic code ready to surprise me at the most inopportune moments. I had a stepson, sort of, who was still stuck in a situation that needed to be ended immediately, but kept getting pushed to the back burner by every other bullshit emergency that came up. And I had a secret, one that I hadn’t told Billy and one that seemed to start lurking lately - especially after the email that I glanced at before Hughie came straggling into the office, pale and traumatized.

“Ronnie?” Shit, I’d taken too long. Our house was alight with the timed outdoor lights, along with the few inside that were also scheduled to turn on before we came home. “Are you ok?”

He parked the car and waited. Terror was panting between us, the call of the rabbits and whatever else he chased as soon as he was set loose in our yard almost making him vibrate with need.

“Let Terror out before he makes a break for it and jumps through the unopened window?” His soft chuckle told me he completely understood the worry, Terror wasn’t known for his patience. “I’ll let you know how I am when we get inside.”

Dinner wasn’t fancy or complicated. I gave in and nuked some Hot Pockets - comfort food, and I poured us both drinks, stronger than beer for him, since I had a feeling he was going to need it.

We ate without the television, and I told him that I thought we should get Ryan out. He nodded, listening and for once agreeing with me on the plight that was Becca’s son.

“That’s not all that has you looking as taut as a tightrope.” He pulled me close and leaned back into the sofa cushions. “Tell me.”

So I did, or at least the easier parts. I told him how I felt idiotic for not figuring out Neuman’s real role in the mess that created our office and my post. Which he assured me wasn’t something I should take guilt on for, after all no one knew, not even the assholes who helped her get elected. I told him that I wasn’t as upset about being unable to have kids as I thought he might think I was, which seemed to make him relax a little more.

“But what else is lurking inside me, Billy?” He kissed me and promised we’d figure it out, and he’d be right beside me when we did.

Cuddling close, I braced myself for the final shoe to drop, so to speak. “I got an email today,” he snorted, knowing that I got dozens if not more emails daily. “It was one that had a name that I didn’t think I’d see -” I couldn’t say again, but definitely not this soon.

“Who?” He was listening while his hands took a tour, Billy could multitask better than most men, I’d give him that.

“Joe Kessler,” his fingers stilled and I felt curious. Did he know Joe? If he did, this was going to be a total shit show. “Do you know him?”

“Kessler?” I nodded and he sighed. “Yeah, I know him. I think the real question is how do you know him?”

Fuck. “Is it really so strange that I know another agent?” I didn’t dare look up at him, if anyone could call my bluff it was the man holding me. I contemplated leaving it at that, but of course he asked me why I hadn’t thought I’d see his name so soon. “I told you I was married before right?”

“Kessler?” His voice didn’t really change, but his hands were still and his body stiff. “You were married to Kessler?” Shit, fuck, shit.

“Yes,” why not BandAid it? Just rip it off, and hope the hell it doesn’t sting as bad as it could have.

The silence grew and I was worried. I mean, he knew I’d been married before. And he knew it ended. Sure I left out the part where I’d married a colleague, a man who was older and more experienced than me - at least in the CIA. OK, let’s be honest, Joe Kessler was more experienced everywhere - he also managed to get on my parents’ bad side almost from moment one, and they convinced me that when he looked at me he only saw dollar signs. Which I believed, and a part of me knew it could be true. I mean, it wasn’t as if my parents were modest with displays of their wealth. And he’d challenged me about my need to rebel, yet please them. So leaving, ending things, had seemed reasonable. Logical even.

“Why did he email you?” Oh, he assumed - well damn it.

“He didn’t.” I felt safe to look up at him now that I knew why he’d grown so tense and quiet. “I just received an email letting me know that he’s being assigned to the local agency.” He waited, eyes locked on me. “There are a few people in the office that know about our past, they like to give me a head’s up if he’s coming close.”

“That bad?” I shook my head. It wasn’t bad, just fucking awkward. I mean, how do you face a man who you married in haste and then divorced without warning? “Felt like you had to let me know though?”

“I don’t want us to have secrets,” something crossed his face, but it was gone before I could decipher it. “I didn’t leave out his name on purpose, it’s just -” I sighed and rubbed my face against his shirt, breathing him in like he did to my neck or hair when he needed reassurance. “I feel so stupid for being as impulsive as I was in marrying him.”

“You were impulsive and stupid?” His tone was heavy in disbelief and it caused me to look up and find him shaking his head as he drank me in. “Impossible.”

And now that my shoulders were unburdened, Billy decided he’d release me from every scrap of unnecessary material that might add unneeded weight to me, and then he reminded me of how slow and steady the two of us were, before he showed me how fast and furious we could be as well.

[scoobwrites]

❆ — [sender] and [receiver] get trapped indoors during a snow storm

killing yourself for perfection is a muse family trait, apparently.

finally finding her biological father brought on a sequence of events that changed melpomene’s life forever. some were for the good. others…well, she sometimes wishes she stayed oblivious of her father’s identity. meeting her sisters? for the good, certainly. having her creative needs and whims nurtured by someone who understood them? definitely good. coming face to face with the very real, very stifling expectations her father had for his children? well, that part could have been kept.

melpomene was a muse through and through in some ways. she loves the arts, always has. and she’s a natural born performer, all woody and buzz’s grainy family videos of her growing up featuring a tiny little girl with wild curly hair just hamming it up for the intended audience. but she’s not the muse zeno wants, not entirely at least. her voice, her stage presence, her attention to detail are what he wants; things he needs to make his fleeting idea of a girl group fit, just another cog in the machine. but she was flashy and strange, curious and willing to take a risk and fail in the pursuit of art. and well, he didn’t like that.

the muses had been recording demos since she was thirteen years old. an entire catalog of songs that hadn’t been good enough to make it to an exec before they were eventually signed. and being signed came with new struggles, commercial success more important than the pursuit of creation. and the next thing she knows they’re two forgettable albums into a career she’s resentful of. she’d once read a review that claimed they make old navy music — and in response someone had edited one of their music videos over an old navy commercial and she wanted to fucking scream. and when the sisters sit down to discuss their third album she informs them it may be their last because if it’s subpar in the end she just might kill herself.

but her father would hear nothing of it; he sent demos, and fledgling ideas, sound bites of lyrics and off shot productions. and she might be working a little too hard trying to make one of them work.

it shouldn’t be this hard. she writes for other artists all the time, her work as a songwriter and producer for others one of the main things keeping her bills paid because their bubbling under chart entries just wasn’t fully cutting it. but an hour at her laptop had turned into two and that turned into four, and before she knows it luis is closing her laptop and lifting her out of the chair and into his arms. she protests, feebly, before he says exactly what she needs to hear: it’s not getting any better, take a break, get your mind off it. and she can’t help but grin at his honesty because ok, she wasn’t going insane — it was still pretty rough despite her best efforts.

she hadn’t even realized it’d begun snowing, and the excuse to remain holed up in her room is the last thing either of them need. “God,” she smiles against his lips, content here in his lap with his arms around her waist. “you’re like unreal, you know that?” something about the way luis carries himself tells her he definitely knows. mel runs her hands up and down his bare chest as he throws his shirt across the room. ring clad fingers tracing the planes and contours of his muscles, like she does every time he’s shirtless because he’s got the body of a greek fucking god and it deserves to be worshipped every single time. “like God was up there taking his sweet ass fucking time.” and won’t He do it. with a laugh she leans in to press a soft kiss to his lips again, a million tiny little ones that turn into one long feverish kiss that has him tightening his grip around her.

God took a little bit more time though. No, too many words.

his lips travel down to her jaw, making his way down to her neck slowly. And she arches her back slightly, leaning away from him to give him more access.

God took a little extra time though. that’s…eh, at best.

he sucks a particularly bruising mark into her neck. and while she often has a no hickies rule with everyone she sleeps with, she’s always made an exception for him. she doesn’t necessarily mind being marked by him. and he likes to make sure people know she’s spoken for, he’s territorial in some ways. And she doesn’t hate that for once.

God was working, took some extra time. almost. almost.

and then it comes to her. “oh!” her eyes snap open, alight with a new idea. luis looks up at her through his lashes, not bothering to fully stop as his hands reach under her shirt — his shirt that she stole. “God was working, probably took some extra time though.” she recites the words quickly, and that makes him stop what he’s doing now. “God was working, probably took some extra time though.” she repeats again, slower, trying to get a feel for how the string of words feel with the cadence. “That’s not…it’s a good start for a quick little 8.” she mumbles to herself, getting up and running back over to her laptop. “I gotta record the sound bite before I forget it.” she plops down in his computer chair, opening her laptop and quickly typing in her password and opening the appropriate apps. “What if it’s like ‘baby, you’re one of a kind uh, God was working probably took some extra time though?”

@slowpokewrites

[soulofgenocide]

Within His Tale - Creation (LONG)

For Genocide's canon, reality begins when three unknown beings simply come into existence, they contain all knowledge of the future and know their own identities, but not how they came to be. They lack what came before they appeared, and in their future knowledge cannot see anything relating to any of the either beings.

These three were named Life, Death, and Soul. Life began creating as it knew it was why it existed, while Death began to form the natural cycle in which things would always meet their end. If Life created a universe, a planet with life, then Death would add it to the cycle of when it would perish. Soul watched the two do their work and was confused, he felt no internal desire to create nor destroy, it was only when he observed one of Life's planets closely did he realize his purpose.

(Tldr under read more and then the rest)

TLDR: Life became God, Death became Grim and Soul became the Soul of Many. God hated Many, killed him by fooling Grim to create a path for that, and before dying Many split his primordial power with the six humans who became the Six Souls. (Love, Corruption, Humanity, Genocide, Fate, Innocence.). When Many died the concept of magical energy faded away for humans as the Soul of Love now had that core, this is why magic fades from history as it became known as blasphemy and witchcraft. God retired to Heaven and Grim is the only creator-tier being that continues their duty of the cycle.

Soul was the heart of magical energy, any planet or realm he touched would be blessed with an influx of his own energy and allow it to mutate and evolve in wonderful and confusing ways. Life wasn't pleased by his own creation being twisted, but Death was open to it completely and allowed Soul to bless the realm Death created, which allowed the species known as Reapers to come into existence. They would regulate the cycle that Death had created, and so Soul realized his job was to bless the worlds that would be capable of using magical energy.

Life was not happy about Soul's place in their duties, to create something you deem as perfect in your own eye just to have it re-written was quite bothering. Life failed to recognize that Soul was what allowed planets, realms, universes to change on their own without one of them watching, he only saw the other creator as a nuisance. He could not stop Soul though, it was the duties they had, so as he injected his energy into several worlds the creator began to think until an idea came to mind.

Death had created a cycle in which all ends, could the same be done for the three of them? Life approached him and upon asking was met with question for why they would want such a thing, Life simply stated that they too exist in this world and the cycle should point to all not just a few. Death thought for a moment before agreeing, in his eyes it was only right that some day the three of them cease to be as well, leaving their creations behind to care for themselves or perhaps new beings to come and take over. A new cycle was created, and in that moment all three beings now felt as if time was moving for them, they were no longer endless beings but now timed existences. Soul knew none of this, and was beyond lost when returning to the other two and discovering he had been given a timer without wanting it, but what was done could not be undone.

Soul was unhappy, but he grew brighter when Life suddenly asked him to bless one of his worlds personally, something he had never done before as he typically looked at it with disgust. He had one condition, a piece of Life's energy had to be used when spreading rather than Soul's, which while disappointing was still fine with the creator. Soul took a bit of energy from him, weaved it into the world he had created, and allowed beings called Angels to begin forming. He was so happy that Life had made this request of him, and believed now it may even become a regular occurrence, Soul simply sat back and watched as Life & Death did their duties, occasionally blessing a world here and there that seemed worthy of it.

Time moved forward, life was blooming on planets either from the natural order or from the magical energy Soul had given it, and the three of them had taken on new names. Life was now God, Death was now Grim, and Soul was the Soul of Many, as he was simply one being split across worlds. It was not long after this change that God requested Many's help once again, asking that he go to a world he created in person and see if it was worth a blessing on par with the first he had done, now called Heaven. Many was always happy to help and did as he asked, he walked along a desolate land that showed no signs at all of life being capable of forming, he was rather confused, until the being felt something pierce him.

Pain. It was a new feeling, one Many greatly didn't like, and he collapsed clutching a blade made of Life's divine energy that stuck through him completely. He looked to find Angels surrounding him, all wielding the same weapon which was within his body and he realized, God wanted to erase him. He had the cycle created for them not out of fairness, but out of a desire to kill, but a creator was no easy target and so he waited. He had Many create the weapon he would be killed with, raised them, and then lured him to a world where he would be physical and could be harmed, and the world without his blessing could not protect him as only Life was the dominant being on it.

He would die. He felt fear for the first time, fear of dying, a knowledge and emotion that should exist in others and not him but yet there it was, because God had made it so. He did not know if Death knew what his plans were, and would not blame him without knowing, but Many accepted as he lay there that Grim would one day come for him and he could simply ask him then. Many had blessed countless planets though, and was still a creator just as they were, so he spoke his final words before simply vanishing from the world Life had created.

"I will see you at the end."

The words were cold, and then the creator was gone, not dead but simply removed from existence in that exact moment. God began to panic, Angels were sent to every world that Many had blessed in order to try and find them, but as they were incapable of seeing each other in their future knowledge he did not know exactly where that was. Grim discovered Many's demise, and refused to speak to God again as he had used him to kill their own fellow being, he told him the cycle would continue but no longer would he add it to new worlds. Time passed once again, and God assumed Many was dead and Grim had said nothing, as he had neither found him nor was any action taken by him, and so he retired to his Heavenly throne, done creating worlds as he would not imbalance them if Grim would not add the cycle.

Grim was aware though, the Soul of Many was still living as he'd yet to meet his friend again, and it was on a rather interesting world named Earth that was fixated between Heaven and the faulty formed Hell that Many actually laid in hiding. He was dying, but not at a normal rate, he did not know exactly when it would occur but he did his best with his remaining time to lay out a plan to make God pay for his betrayal. Many saw God's Angels fall and Hell be formed, and with it came the idea, if Hell could fight against Heaven then so could something he created.

He could not create life like that though, he simply gave worlds the chance to possibly do so, and so he made a decision that would kill him much quicker than the injury likely would. Earth was dominated by Humans, living creatures created from his blessing and the natural order together, and it was them who first used his blessing in wonderous ways. Magic, creating something from nothing, it was a delight to see as Many roamed Earth watching how each section had taken his blessing. The time then came, Many would soon die, and he'd made his choice on how to get God to face the consequences of his actions, he simply sat in an old room in a castle that had been long abandoned. Unaware of what time it was for humans, all he knew was they rode horses and wore shiny pieces of metal while swinging the same, but his memory was now foggy and that almighty knowledge he had was gone. A whisper was spoken by Many before he fell into slumber, trying to save his energy for the required day, a whisper that simply said "Find me" that was spread across Earth. It found its way to those who would be most compatible with his power, and they gathered in that old abandoned room after conquering the castle itself, Many awoke and greeted them all with a smile.

What was said in that room is known only by the Souls, but what Many had done was take grasp of his own existence and split it into six pieces. Raw, primordial energy, and he handed it over to six humans who stood the highest chance of surviving the transfer, with his core gone the creator simply faded away. The original Souls never spoke of Many again, but one day on a statue of a simple man staring up at the sky a single sentence was carved into the stone and a Soul's energy lingered on it. It stated:

"Tell God I will await him in the beyond."

Nobody knew who made the statue, who carved those words, and as time passed it was even demolished when the world began to change in much bigger ways. The magical energy that Many spread across worlds began to recede with Earth at the center, and when the Soul of Love who held that magical energy source hid away, magic faded from humanity completely. She was the last magic user, and though it did begin to spread again upon her reappearance there would be no hope of the world ever returning to its previous state for Humans.

Many had faded, his blessings had been removed, and God had gotten what they had wanted since the very beginning. Yet they could create no more worlds because of their own actions, and did wonder if they made a mistake. Grim remained the only creator-tier being active in the worlds, he did his duty and completed the cycle countless times, God never found out if he met Many to take him away, and Grim would never reveal that. He wanted the person who had played him like a fool to wonder for the rest of their time, was Many still out there trying to get me?

[butmakeitgayblog]

“Craved her fury, and her darkness, every bit as much as she craved her light.”

So how is Lexa gonna feel now that all Clarke’s light is gone (is it?) and all that’s left is fury? I thought that part of what Lexa loved about Clarke was her humanity - and Clarke sacrificed her humanity and her light- the best parts of herself to be with Lexa. As a demon. I’m sure Lexa will have a lot of feelings about that. On Clarke’s behalf, I get it. Her Dad was her light and grace. Once he was gone, all Christianity ever did in her life was belittle her and cause her pain, and cast out the person she loved from Heaven, but made her keep her grace and become a demon. God was horribly cruel to Lexa who was trying to save everyone. So yeah, I get why Clarke would choose Lucifer, but the cost! (Oh, Clarke.)

I love your fic. Especially COA, Demon Lexa, and CI. Absolutely love them. It makes my day whenever I see that you’ve posted a new chapter. Thanks for sharing your stories with us!

I'm gonna try and tread lightly here because so much of this is spoilers 😅

But what I want to kind of redirect you to is like, for instance, look at Luna. A demon in exactly the same sense as Clarke is now, and how was she really? While Lexa wrote her off as just a nasty demon hybrid (oh the irony Lexa), Clarke said she was always prefectly pleasant with her. That she was always friendly and easy to get along with. And when she helped Clarke, she still took the time to (admittedly bluntly) tell Clarke her concerns about her decision. Yeah she was snarky, but also, Lexa has always only ever been a grade A bitch to her so it's hard to blame her being like "you're doing this for her? Really? Her. Alexandria "Hey Mutt" D'Angelo or WhateverFakeNameShesUsingThisCentury? You're sure?... Her?"

But she still helped.

For me that conveyed caring about Clarke on a certain level. And more over, she did give her advice on what to do and watch out for. Was honest in her intimating that while she regrets pieces of her trade, she would do it again in heartbeat. After all, Luna made her decision based on love too, so she does understand.

And those things don't come from a demon who is devoid of all humanity, or caring, or light. Hell, even for non-demons, those things are ultimately a choice 👀

[autisticcassandracain]

Batkids ranked from best to worst candidate to take over the Batman mantle according to my very objective (/sarcasm) opinions:

Cass: Cass is loyal to the bat symbol before all else; the bat pulled her out of an aimless, guilt-ridden existance and gave her purpose, a chance to help others, and she takes this very very seriously. She's canonically the most similar to Bruce out of everyone, and values the no killing rule more than him. She wants the job so bad, because to her, Batman is everything she could ever hope to be. Continuing the bat symbol into a new generation, to help and inspire others like her, would be the greatest honor for her. Becoming Batman would be the natural conclusion of her arc.

Dick: Has canonically been Batman and did very well at it, better even than Bruce, canonically. But Nightwing fits him better. He adapted to the Batman mantle, and eventually stopped being miserable in it, but it was a choice made out of necessity, not personal drive. Nightwing was his own creation and fits him like a second skin. He can do Batman, he can do it well, but it won't be natural for him like it would be for Cass.

Steph: There's a fucking curveball for you. Honestly Steph is here bc other than Cass and Dick I don't think there's a good choice for Batman, if Bruce kicks it and neither of them are around I think Batman should just die, but for the sake of this list we will look at how much I'd enjoy seeing the other kids take up the mantle in canon. Steph becoming Batman would be so funny. It'd be a great storytelling opportunity because there's no way she should even be in line so what happened? How does she deal with it? But most importantly, once again, it'd be SO FUNNY if Steph got the mantle of Batman after Bruce treated her as shittily as he did. That's what you get old man.

Tim: idk he'd handle the job badly and would be miserable but this is my list and I don't really care about him so he's here as a placeholder. If Tim became Batman I'd be annoyed but not enraged. So there.

Duke: Perhaps an unpopular opinion among Duke fans but I fucking hate the idea of Batman!Duke. It can work in very specific Elseworld circumstances like Dark Knights Metal but in the mainline continuity? Absolutely tf not. Duke's whole Thing is a radical departure from the batfam's status quo. He's thematically and literally attached to daylight, he has superpowers. Both of those are already wildly antithetical to Batman. In addition: his current hero identity is an homage to his mother. Why would he throw that away? Batman!Duke could be interesting for an arc or two, because all this WOULD make for interesting narrative conflict, but permanently? It'd be a wild misuse of Duke's character to take a character designed to defy the status quo and stick him in a mantle that exists to uphold it. If Bruce dies and Duke's the only one that could take over, Batman should die and Signal should take his place.

Damian: FUCK Batman!Damian all my homies HATE Batman!Damian. All those arcs and character development about how blood doesn't define him only for him to let blood define him, just on the other side of his family? You're all so fucking boring and you should feel bad. And while we're here, no he shouldn't be Nightwing either, that's only slightly less bad, why would stepping from one Dick Grayson legacy mantle to another denote character growth? I have OPINIONS on this. Damian should create his own identity to show that he's grown into his own and found his own path outside of his families. Also 90% of the arguments for Batman!Damian hinge on blood relations which is weird and creepy and also very very very boring.

Jason: I don't think I need to explain this.

Any variant of sharing the mantle: Every time the 'who should be the next batman' debate comes up there's always SOME motherfucker insisting that x and y can just share and two things to that: 1) coward, are you gonna hand out participation trophies next? 2) Batman should not be a status symbol. The batfam should not be a hierarchy with Batman at the top. That's the most boring way possible to approach the Batman mantle. I get that's what DC does in canon, but in canon, they won't ever let Bruce die permanently anyway, so what canon does is kinda a moot point. And frankly? Pretty much all 'x and y should share' arguments seem to be based in the idea that Batman is automatically a better, more prestigious mantle than all others, and that being deprived of it means you're worse than whoever took it. They want everyone to hold the mantle simulaneously because they don't want their fave(s) to 'lose'. It's not a competition of skill, it's a matter of narrative satisfaction. And the only character whose arc would be actively strengthened by becoming Batman is Cass. She shouldn't get it because she's the best fighter, or lose/share it because she's not the best detective; she should get it because it would be a perfect bookend to her arc of self hatred and self determination via the bat. Everyone else is better off with a solo identity or a different legacy mantle. So no, sharing is not a magic solution; it's a cop out.

[bestiesenpai]

Youtuber Nanami

We’ve never seen Hanse and Nanami in the same room before...I’m just saying, the chances of them being the same person are higher than 0...gender neutral reader and no content warnings for this :) 11.8k words

(s/n) = nanami’s screen name

Nanami Kento wasn’t what usually came to mind when one thought of Youtubers. He was a salaryman, wearing pristine suits and going to work at ungodly hours. He had a stern face and rarely spoke about himself unless asked, preferring to keep most conversations short and to the point.

But Nanami didn’t think of himself as a Youtuber. He liked to refer to himself as a home cook who just happened to make videos and post them to Youtube. He had amassed a good two million followers and he didn’t show his face or hands, not even speaking as he cooked.

All Nanami dreamed about when he was at work was coming home and filming his next project. As an avid foodie, he was constantly thinking up new recipes to make. At first, filming himself had been a way of documenting his skills and keeping track of recipes without having to write them down, but as time went on people seemed to become enthralled with him.

“It finally came.” Collecting the mail on an early Saturday, Nanami’s smile was hard to contain as he grabbed the box that was waiting for him. He’d put in an order almost a month ago for this item and as he speed walked back to his apartment, his heart thumped with joy at getting to use it.

“It’s beautiful.” Holding up the cat bread mold, Nanami was itching to get to his kitchen and put it to use. Grabbing his camera, he began to prep his filming space. He was lucky to have such a large east facing window that his dining table could sit in front of and get the perfect light for his videos.

Making sure everything was perfectly positioned, Nanami pressed record and started to add ingredients into his mixing bowl. It was perfectly silent in his apartment, the most ideal environment to film in. Nanami didn’t add any background music to his videos, preferring to let the natural acoustics of his actions shine through.

Waiting for the dough to proof, Nanami flicked through some comments on his Youtube videos. He didn’t really care about what people had to say about his content, he only did this for himself, but sometimes it was nice to see what other like-minded individuals had to say. And he’d be lying if he said the comments about how aesthetic his videos were didn’t make his ego swell a bit.

When the bread was done and popped out of the mold in a perfect cat head shape, Nanami had to bite his lip to stifle a pleased sigh as he turned the camera off. He’d made it a point not to reveal his identity, refusing to let even his whole hand be in a shot and he wasn’t about to let it slip now with a hint of his voice.

“Kento you’ve really outdone yourself.” Biting into a slice of toasted bread with strawberry jam, Nanami smiled fondly at his creation. There wasn’t anything that could ruin this moment for him, not even the sudden knock on his front door.

It was a good thing Nanami was so good at setting up and taking down his cameras and lights, he didn’t want to explain to whoever was on the other side what exactly he did in his free time.

“(Y/N), hello.” As soon as Nanami opened the door and saw you, his next door neighbor, a light blush painted his cheeks. You’d moved in about six months ago into the corner unit next to his and Nanami had been smitten ever since.

“Hi Nanami.” You seemed equally as bashful, waving with a few fingers before tucking your hands behind your back. Meeting his eye for a moment, you let out a nervous giggle. “I was wondering if you’d gotten any mail addressed to me? I was supposed to get a letter from my grandma but I think the mailman might have given it to you instead.”

“Let me check.” Nanami had been so preoccupied with his bread mold that he didn’t bother to check the other mail he’d gotten. Taking a step away from the door, he was about to go further into his apartment but stuttered to a stop. “Would you like to come in?”

“Sure.” Slowly stepping in and shutting the door, you rocked back and forth on your heels. Nanami was glad you couldn’t look him in the eye otherwise you would have seen the blooming blush going across his cheeks.

He’d wanted to invite you in for a cup of tea and a slice of cake when you first moved in but he wasn’t able to gather the courage and by the time he finally felt ready nearly four months had passed.

“I actually do have it, (Y/N).” Coming back into the lounge room with the letter in hand, he quickly spotted you standing by the dining table looking at the bread he made in awe.

“Oops, sorry Nanami, I didn’t mean to be nosy!” Shuffling back, you took one last look at the bread before turning away. “I just saw the cat shape and got curious!” Taking the letter from him, you looked like you wanted to say something more, but held your tongue. “Well, I’ll be go-”

“Would you like to have a piece?” Nanami blurted out, holding out a hand to stop you from walking away.

“Really, you’d let me have some?”

“Sit down, I’ll pour you some tea.” Pulling out a chair for you, Nanami disappeared into his kitchen and gripped the countertops tightly. A sense of accomplishment washed over him that nearly beat out the bread; he was finally getting to have tea with you.

“Nanami, this is amazing!” Taking a bite out of the jam covered bread, your brows rose high on your face. “You really made this?”

“Mhmm. I got the mold this morning.” Taking a sip of his own tea, Nanami had to fight the smile on his face from becoming too big at seeing you enjoy his creation. He never usually shared with other people, either eating it all himself or giving it to the elderly ladies down the hall that didn’t know how to use the internet.

“Do you bake all the time?” Scooting to the edge of your seat, you almost looked like a child with a hopeful gleam in your eyes.

“I do, I quite enjoy it.”

The conversation began to revolve around food that Nanami had made, his favorites and yours, and then to just general cooking. It felt good to talk about this side of his life with someone, especially you, and the both of you quickly lost track of time.

“I should get going, Nanami, I feel like I’ve taken up enough of your time.” An hour later, you were standing up from your seat. The bread had quickly dwindled as the conversation wore on and there were only a few slices left.

“I enjoyed our talk.” Letting a full smile grace his face now, Nanami walked you to the door. Bidding you a final farewell, as soon as the door closed Nanami leaned against it, pressing his forehead into the wood and letting out a deep sigh. “You did it, Kento.”

Patting himself on the back for several days, Nanami looked forward to the next time he could see you. You’d let slip that you really liked cookies, so the only thing on Nanami’s mind was getting the perfect cookie recipe and making a batch for you.

Over the course of the next week, Nanami made a new cookie every single day. He knew what flavors you liked but he also wanted to try and give you something new, impress you with his skills and see that pleased look come over your face once again.

He also filmed himself making the cookies as well, making sure the videos were the most aesthetic they could be. He didn’t know if you watched his videos and even if you did he wouldn’t want to know, but on the off chance you saw them, Nanami wanted you to love it.

Finding the perfect recipe after a lot of back and forth with himself, Nanami was ready to share a plate of cookies with you. Sliding out into the hall with the plate tightly clutched to his chest, he turned to your apartment.

Nanami was happy you lived in the corner unit, it felt like he got you all to himself despite only having one proper conversation with you. There weren’t other neighbors trying to steal your attention away; it was perfect.

Right as Nanami knocked on the door, a sharp scream came from inside your apartment and he nearly dropped the plate in shock.

“(Y/N)?! Are you okay?” Knocking loudly, Nanami’s body spiked with adrenaline. There was silence on the other end, making him consider picking the lock or calling the building manager.

“N-nanami?” Your voice and body trembled as you opened the door. Quickly giving you a once over, Nanami was relieved to see no physical injuries on you.

“What’s wrong? Why’d you scream?” Eager to get the answer from you, Nanami leaned closer. Squirming a bit, you took a step back and opened the door for him to enter.

“Promise not to laugh, okay?” There was a slight pout in your lips as you spoke and Nanami almost cooed at you.

“I promise.”

“A spider came down from the ceiling and scared me.” Panning over to your lounge room, Nanami couldn’t see any spider. The only things he saw were your furniture and a PC setup off to one side.

“Where is it?” Following you to the desk, Nanami quirked a brow at how impressive the equipment looked. There were two monitors, an expensive looking microphone and a ring light that looked like one he owned.

“Right there!” Grabbing his arm, you flung yourself behind him and pointed at your desk. Right in the middle was a large spider, scurrying back and forth. Balancing the plate in one hand, he fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and quickly squished the bug.

“I got it for you.” Folding the cloth back up, Nanami let himself exhale. Having you cling to him had almost stopped him from being able to do anything and he needed all the focus he could get if he wanted to help you.

“You didn’t have to use that, I would have grabbed you a paper towel!”

“It’s alright, it probably would have gotten away if we had waited.”

“Wait!” Grabbing onto the handkerchief before Nanami could tuck it back into his pocket, you gave it a gentle tug. “Let me clean it for you at least.” Nodding, Nanami let it go with no resistance.

Trying not to be nosy, he didn’t dwell too long at your computer, opting instead to follow you to your kitchen. He was pretty sure he saw the title to one of his videos on an open tab and it filled his chest with a flutter.

“What’s on the plate, Nanami?” Your question broke him from his short daydream of talking about his videos with you.

“Huh?” Nanami completely forgot about the plate in his hands, having gotten wrapped up in his own thoughts. Feeling the weight of the plate come back into his consciousness, Nanami cleared his throat. “Oh I uh, I made some cookies for you.”

“You did?” Dropping his handkerchief into the sink, you fully turned to him. Leaning close to the plate, you let out a small hum. “What kind are they?”

“I tried a new recipe out, they’re choux au craquelin with salted caramel cream.” Watching you process the name in your head made Nanami grin. You probably had no idea what he had just said, evident as the dumb nod you gave him.

“Do they go well with tea?”

As Nanami sat at your kitchen table waiting for you to return with some tea, he couldn’t help but look over your whole apartment. It was a simple one bedroom like he had and your furniture suited what Nanami assumed was your taste nicely.

“I almost don’t want to eat one, they look too nice!” Back with some tea, you turned one of the cookies over in your hand.

“If you don’t eat them they’ll go bad.” Nanami teased lightly, taking a bite of one for himself. You let out a little peep and nodded quickly, taking a generous bite of the dessert.

“Nanami.” Gripping the edge of the table, your eyes were blown wide. “This is amazing, I love it!” Whenever Nanami got a compliment, usually from Gojo, he brushed it off and thought nothing of it. But to hear you say that you loved what he made and to see the smile on your face as you take another bite - it made Nanami’s brain overflow with dopamine, a fuzzy feeling tingling the tips of his fingers and warming his chest.

“You really do?” He unintentionally whispers, having to close his eyes lest he stare hearts right through you.

“Mhmm!” Taking a sip of your tea, you giggle a little to yourself. “I feel pretty special too, you made this whole plate just for me.”

You’re special to me, that’s why, Nanami thought in his head, biting the tip of his tongue hard to keep from blurting it out. Looking over at your computer setup once more, Nanami decided to comment on that instead of feeding the blush going up the back of his neck.

“You have a pretty nice setup there, (Y/N). Do you make Youtube videos or something?” Leaning back in his chair, Nanami forced his body to relax and his stomach to loosen up. Now it was your turn to be embarrassed, a sudden shy demeanor washing over you.

“I’m just trying it out, I wanted to see what streaming and stuff was like.”

“Really?” Nanami had to choose his next words wisely, not wanting to seem too excited. “What’s the name of your channel, I’ll follow you.”

“You will?” There was a hopeful lilt to your voice, yet your body language was still hesitant. “I don’t know, I might get too embarrassed knowing you’ll be watching me.” It was Nanami’s turn to join you in being shy. He made a noise in the back of his throat, quickly taking a sip of his tea to cover it up.

“D-don’t be. I want to support you, that’s what neighbors do.” Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Nanami slid it over to you. “Go ahead and pull up your channel, I’ll subscribe right now.”

As Nanami left your apartment, fifteen minutes later and with an empty plate tucked under his arm, he was thoroughly surprised to know you wanted to start a Youtube channel. He wanted to help you, give you some tips and ways to make the algorithm like you, but he wasn’t ready to give away his secret just yet.

Sitting at his desk that night with his laptop in front of him, Nanami pulled up your channel. Seeing your first video, aptly titled ‘introduction’, he clicked.

“Hi everyone watching.” You sounded and looked so timid sitting at your desk, wringing your hands in front of you and smoothing them out on the wood as soon as you realized what you were doing. “My name is (Y/N) and this is my channel.”

“Hi (Y/N).” Nanami answered back, snorting at his own silliness.

“I’m going to be posting videos of my life, like vlogs and stuff, but also fun cooking videos! I really admire so many people on Youtube that can cook, I want to try and recreate their recipes! I especially like this one, it’s my favorite channel.” A few different Youtube channels popped up on screen and right in the middle and the one you gestured to was Nanamis.

He didn’t hear the rest of the video where you talked about potential upload schedules and other facts about yourself. He didn’t even hear you say goodbye or notice that the screen had faded to black. All Nanami could think about was the fact that his channel was your favorite.

Watching the other few videos you’d posted, a couple short ones of you running errands or showing off some clothes, Nanami vowed to watch every single one of your videos. Despite being pretty active on Youtube, Nanami didn’t watch a lot of videos himself, but your channel was at the top of his list.

For the next month Nanami waited for you to post a cooking video and while he waited he put out a few videos with easier steps, things you could follow along with even if you had little to no cooking skills.

A ping on his phone on a Saturday night had him walking briskly to his computer. You finally posted a video of yourself cooking one of his recipes, a dish he had made for Itadori’s birthday: a strawberry crepe cake.

“Hi, welcome to my kitchen!” Nanami was immediately smitten within the first few seconds of the video. The apron you had on was cute and tied around your waist with a bow and there was a large container of strawberries just waiting to be used.

As the video went on, Nanami openly chuckled at the mistakes you made from being so nervous in front of the camera, like dropping the egg shells into the bowl and dumping too much flour in right after.

“I’m so nervous to flip the crepe over!” The camera was over your stove now where a crepe was slowly beginning to burn in the pan the longer you waited.

“Don’t be scared, you can do it.” Nanami whispered to the screen, biting his lip as you attempted to flip it over. Managing to do it right on the first try, you let out a loud yelp of victory.

“Oops, I better be quiet! It’s like 2am right now and my neighbor is sleeping!” Upon your admittance, Nanami suddenly remembers hearing a small shout late at night a few days ago that had woken him up for just a moment. “He actually said he’d watch all my videos, so sorry if I woke you up!” Crossing your fingers in front of the camera, you went back to talking about the cooking.

Nanami felt special that you mentioned him in a video and now he wished he was awake to try your cake. You put way more strawberries than he did on it, and your whipped cream application was a lot messier and spilled down the sides but that only made him want to try it more.

“Okay, I’m all done! Let’s put a picture side by side and see how I did.” Holding up a photo of Nanami’s cake, you whined a little at seeing such stark differences. “Well mine isn’t perfectly aesthetic, but I bet it’ll still taste good!”

Was it rational to be annoyed with himself for not being awake at 2am on a Wednesday night to eat a strawberry crepe cake with you? No it wasn’t, but Nanami still felt it. He would have to tell you to cook at a more reasonable time the next opportunity he got to talk to you so he could try your food.

Deciding to do just that, Nanami grabbed his phone and called you. He managed to give you his number after subscribing to your Youtube channel, stating that if you ever needed help cooking you could ask him.

“Hello?” He could almost hear you on the other side of the wall.

“(Y/N), it’s Nanami Kento. From next door.” How many other Nanami Kento’s could you possibly know? Not a lot, he was hoping. You laughed on the other end and he could definitely hear it through the wall.

“Hi neighbor. What’s up?”

“I watched your Youtube video.”

“Y-you saw it?!” You made a noise in the back of your throat and a soft whine followed. “God I feel so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be, I told you I’d watch your videos and support you.”

“I know, I just- you didn’t have to call me and say it.”

“I don’t like texting.” Nanami smirked, he could just imagine your face right now hidden under your palm.

“Well, what did you think of it?”

“I liked it, you did really well on the cake. But I do have one complaint.”

“What is it?” You gasped loudly, nearly dropping the phone as you wondered what he could possibly have to say.

“I just wish you’d made it when I was awake, I would have loved to try it.” There was a long pause between you and Nanami could hear you flop onto your couch.

“Really? You would try it?” Nanami let out a short hum of approval. “Let me get some more strawberries then.” He could hear the smile in your voice and it made his own lips tug upward.

Ending the call shortly after, Nanami thought about your conversation while he was filming his own video. Gojo had given him a box of fresh peaches as a gift from his recent vacation and Nanami had his heart set on making a peach tart.

Replaying the conversation with you over and over in his head, Nanami wasn’t as careful as he usually was about concealing his identity. He couldn’t find it in him to put on gloves to cover his hands when all he was really thinking about was having cake with you from a recipe he had made himself.

When he was editing, he almost threw out the whole video. There were many segments where his hands were on full display and one where part of his arm poked into the frame as well. But the rest of the video was too perfect to completely toss out and unable to cut out the scenes of his hands, Nanami posted it anyway with a dying hope that his viewers wouldn’t make a big deal out of it.

Waking up the day after posting the video however, Nanami was sorely mistaken. He was used to videos going viral and trending for several days, some even getting articles written about them. But going viral for his hands wasn’t something Nanami thought was possible.

The video alone had gotten upwards of 5 million views in just a day and was still steadily climbing. Despite going on all his social media accounts and muting every single word that could possibly have anything to do with him, Nanami still ended up seeing videos and pictures of his own hands on Twitter, with an article about him breaking the internet as well.

And one of the videos he saw had your face in it. Captioned ‘tiktokers reacting to hand reveal’, he felt the need to click on it. What did you think of him?

“So I’ve seen the headlines but I saved my reaction so I could get it on camera.” You spoke hurriedly, wrapped up in a hoodie and blanket as you sat down on the couch, the camera on a tripod across from you. “Time to see the video.”

Nanami waited with bated breath as he watched you watch his video. There were some obvious cuts in the video from where you skipped forward, and right as his hands came on screen your jaw dropped.

“I- I uh-” You were clearly very flustered, slapping a hand over your face and turning away from the screen. “Why is my face burning over some hands?” Laughing in disbelief, you watched the rest of the video and let out a girlish squeal before cutting it off.

Nanami wasn’t proud to admit that he watched your reaction more than a few times, finding an odd sense of pride take shape inside him. You didn’t even know it was him behind the camera yet he was able to leave such a profound impression on you.

With a new and growing fanbase eating up every single thing he posted now, Nanami found it hard to live in anonymity like he used to. Gone were the days of quietly replying or liking comments on his Youtube channel, he now had thousands of comments on all platforms asking to see more of his hands or for him to possibly speak in his next video.

He was eager to know what your opinion on him was now, what you thought of his online persona. You were still making videos of his cooking, your channel having gotten a boost in subscribers from your reaction video, and you sometimes mentioned his channel name.

On a quiet Saturday at half past noon, Nanami found himself lounging lazily on his sofa with his hair still undone and coffee stains on his sweats. It was uncharacteristic for him to be so lax so late into the day but it was also uncharacteristic of him to stay up past 1am watching the silly little livestream you were doing in your kitchen with muffled giggles he could hear coming through the wall.

Staring at the ceiling and drifting in and out of sleep as the TV filled the silence in the room, Nanami almost missed the subtle vibration of his phone against the coffee table if there hadn’t been a lull in the TV.

(Y/N): hey neighbor are you busy?

The message from you had him suddenly alert and focused, sitting straight up and planting both feet on the floor.

(Nanami): no, I’m not

(Y/N): then…

(Y/N): do you think you’d wanna come over and help me bake something? I’m doing my first Youtube collab and I’m so nervous

(Nanami): I’ll be over in five.

He didn’t even wait for your response before leaping from the couch and bolting to his bedroom. Nanami got dressed and ready in record time, splashing plenty of cold water on his face to wake him up even further before slicking his hair back and doing one last check in the mirror before rushing to the front door.

“(Y/N).” He was knocking on your door exactly five minutes after texting you.

“Nanami!” You opened the door with a smile, a light colored tied around your waist that was stained from previous use. “Come on in!” Ushering him across the threshold, you made a beeline straight for the kitchen.

“So, you’re doing your first collab, huh?” Following slowly behind you, Nanami thought of all the emails sitting in his inbox from brands and other content creators alike asking him to promote their product or work on a video together. He ignored them all in favor of anonymity, but if you were to message him about it, he would answer in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, I joined a discord server full of other cooking Youtubers and some of them asked me to collab with them!” The smile on your face was beaming and the excitement in your voice made Nanami’s heart swell with pride.

“Well then, let’s get started.” Grabbing the spare apron you handed him, Nanami panned over the scene before him. Your kitchen wasn’t a total mess yet, the counters were still relatively clear with just a few bowls out and measuring spoons just waiting to be used. “What’re we making?”

“Ha, well…” Scratching your cheek bashfully, you shrugged your shoulders and looked around your kitchen. “That’s where you come in, I have no idea what to make.​​” Letting out a soft chuckle under his breath, Nanami nodded to himself and took a step toward the cabinets.

“What are the others making?” He asked while idly sifting through the ingredients you had.

“Take a look.” Showing him your phone, you swiped through the messages between all of you. There were multiple different desserts being made, recipe ideas being thrown around, all with a specific theme.

“So, you chose the colors of the rainbow?” Nanami skimmed over the messages where you decided colors and it seems you’d been chosen to do blue. He’d just seen someone else who got red go with a strawberry cheesecake with swirls of deep red mixed in with lighter pink.

“Do you know any desserts that are blue, cause I don’t.” Throwing your head back with a whine, you stared at the ceiling and let Nanami get back to digging through your cabinets.

“What about a blue surf cake?”

“A what?” You parroted, and your owlish blink made Nanami’s lips curl up in a soft smile.

“It’s a blue cheesecake that looks like ocean waves, I’ve made it a few times before and you don’t need to bake it.” He’d actually filmed a video on it about a year ago and it was one of his most proud creations. Quickly typing it into your phone, you pulled up his video within seconds.

“Oh thank god he made one.” Sighing in relief, you watched Nanami’s video with rapt interest. “This is perfect! But I don’t have this stuff, this butterfly tea powder.”

“I do.” He’d overbought for that video and had been stuck with the stuff for ages. Turning on his heel, he mumbled something unintelligible before leaving your apartment and reappearing in less than two minutes.

“You’re just giving this to me?” Raising your brows high in shock, you took the relatively full package from Nanami’s hands and opened it, a small cloud of blue powder puffing out upon its release.

“Yes, I want you to do well on this collab.” Turning away from you, Nanami began to grab the necessary ingredients from your shelves.

“Nanami.” Your voice was a bit low and when he turned around your bottom lip was jutted out into a pout.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re the best neighbor ever!” Clutching the powder tightly against your chest with one arm, you raise the other one and rest your hand on his shoulder. “Whenever you need help or want some tea and cookies, just ask me and I’ll do it!” You were eternally grateful and Nanami could feel the sincerity in your words and the warmth of your hand melting into his skin.

“I’ll make sure to take you up on that offer, so don’t take it back.”

“Never!” You shook your head, clutching his shoulder tightly. “Now let’s make the best damn blue cake ever!”

Standing off to the side, Nanami watched you film your introduction. He felt almost awkward seeing you talk to the camera and talk animatedly about what you were going to make when his own introductions were quiet and calm, slowly panning across his work space and showing what he would be making with captions dotting the screen.

“I also have a friend helping me make this cake, would you like to wave hello?” You glanced at Nanami, fully expecting him to reject your offer but he surprised you by lifting a hand into frame and giving a very brief wave. A little giggle left your lips and you gave him a thumbs up, turning back to the camera. “He’s really good at baking, so with his help hopefully this cake won’t turn out to be a huge disaster.” Laughing to yourself, you waited a few seconds before turning the camera off.

“Give yourself more credit, (Y/N), you’re good at baking too. I bet you won’t even need me.” Going over the ingredients list one last time, Nanami recounted your videos and couldn’t fight a small smirk on his lips. You’d certainly improved but to call you good was a bit of an exaggeration.

“You’re right!” But you were bolstered by his words nonetheless and your chest puffed up with confidence. “I can do this no problem!”

Maybe it was because he was there, or maybe it was because the words he’d said to you before starting had jinxed it, but Nanami was sure any skills you’d learned had regressed severely.

From the first step to the last, there was a fumble on your part. Adding too many ingredients that didn’t need to be there, adding too little of what the recipe actually called for, snacking on the pieces for the crust of the cake and choking on camera from accidentally inhaling a piece - it was almost as if you were trying to appear inept at even the most basic of kitchen duties.

“It took us so long to get here but we can finally add the filling in!” What took Nanami barely 25 minutes had taken you almost an hour to complete. Your apron and fingers were smudged with blue powder and the kitchen was in noticeably more disarray than when you started, clear proof of the trials and tribulations you went through. Silently cheering you on from behind the camera, Nanami held his breath and watched you pour the mixture into its final pan. “Now time to pop it into the freezer and wait for it to set!”

“Time to start cleaning up.” Nanami mumbled to himself as you turned the camera off. Your cooking style was much different than his, pots and pans carelessly thrown into the sink and dirty utensils left on the counter were not things he was used to seeing.

“Do we have to?” You whined as you set the cake in the freezer.

“Will you clean up after I leave?” He quirked a brow at you, a slow smile coming to his face as you groaned and shook your head.

“Alright fine, we can clean up now.” Nanami was already rolling up his sleeves before you could start to speak and your sulky tone made a chuckle come out of him. Flicking on the sink and filling it with water, he could see you gather dishes out of the corner of his eye. It was quiet in the kitchen now without you narrating your actions for the video and Nanami welcomed the silence, it gave him a chance to think about what to say to you next.

“Really, thank you for helping me.” Coming to stand shoulder to shoulder with him at the sink, you let your arm rest snugly next to his as you started to help wash the dishes.

“You’re welcome.” Shifting just the tiniest bit closer, Nanami scrubbed away in silence. Without the constant action and ever present camera turned off, the scene between the two of you could almost be described as domestic, as if the two of you had just gotten done cooking for yourselves and not a Youtube video and now were in comfortable quiet as you cleaned up the aftermath.

“I should think about what to make for dinner, all that filming made me hungry.” The adrenaline from the collab was still high inside you, making your fingers tremble slightly as you washed off a sudsy dish.

“What are you in the mood for?” Nanami was either stupidly brave or just plain stupid for leaning into this domestic feeling by asking you that question. He could be crossing a line by trying to imply he wanted to eat with you, essentially overstaying his welcome now that he was no longer needed.

“I kind of want pasta, what about you?” Glancing up at him, you were glad he wanted to stay longer and the proof was felt on the tingling warmth prickling your entire body.

“Pasta sounds good. Red or white sauce?”

“Red. I have a great wine to pair it with.”

“You’re into wine?”

“Not really.” You giggled shyly. “I wanted to start a series where I pair different foods with wines but I got too drunk trying to film the first episode.”

“I would love to see that video, (Y/N).” Nanami snorted loudly, a smirk on his lips as he dried his hands.

“We’ll have to have a private screening then.” Playfully bumping your shoulders together, you followed suit and dried your hands.

“Yes, yes we will.”

Twenty minutes later and dinner was prepared and served, both you and Nanami sitting at your dining table with full glasses of beautiful red wine with the bottle sitting not too far off in case you needed more. Eating quietly and making lively conversation, the wine in your glasses never seemed to dip, always being topped up until the bottle was empty and you were shuffling to grab another bottle.

“(Y/N), how much wine do you have?” Nanami chuckled, a drunken blush coating his cheeks as he watched you open your fridge. He could just barely see the bottom of a few bottles from his position at the table.

“Y-you don’t wanna know!” You laughed far too loudly for the situation and slammed the door closed, handing Nanami the bottle as you collapsed in your seat.

“Well, cheers.” Opening the new bottle and topping off your glasses, Nanami held his up and clinked it with yours when you held it up. Letting the liquid drip down his throat, Nanami looked over at you from over the rim of his glass. You were already cute in his eyes, downright adorable even, but to see you giggly and drunk with him made his heart swell even more.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” Whining slightly, you held your glass up in front of your face while your own face burned horribly.

“Like what?” He chuckled in return, mimicking your gesture.

“Like- like- you know!” Waving a hand around, you turned away from him slightly and took a generous sip of wine. Silence hung between you briefly, words left unsaid on the tips of both your tongues yet the fear of possible rejection - or even worse, regret - permeated your drunken minds.

“I’m just having a good time, (Y/N), is that a crime?” Leaning back in his seat, Nanami laughed to himself. He was definitely embarrassed from being caught looking at you like a fool in love but there wasn’t anything he could do about it now.

“You like having dinner with me?” Quirking up a hopeful brow, you rest your elbows on the table and shimmy just a tad bit closer. Your knees brushed under the table and the feeling drew you closer with Nanami pulling his chair in just so he could stretch his legs out and feel your feet begin to tangle together.

“I do, a lot.” It surely beat eating dinner alone for the thousandth time this year. The conversation quickly died down with both of you just silently looking at each other with a half lidded gaze, drunken smiles pushing your cheeks up without you even noticing it.

Soon the food ran cold and the second bottle of wine was emptied and you had to separate to take care of the dishes. Pushing Nanami towards the living room, you made him promise to go sit on the couch while you set the plates in the sink and put away the leftovers.

“Nanami, I have some ice cream if you-” Slightly stumbling out into the living room with a pint of chocolate ice cream, you stopped short upon finding Nanami dozing away on the couch with his body fully stretched out and relaxed.

Going up to the back of the couch, you leaned over it and close to his face, taking in every miniscule detail and pore that you could. Nanami was always so poised around you that it was a rare treat for him to relax like this, especially enough to go to sleep on your couch.

“Nanami…Nanami…” You whispered, gently shaking his shoulder. The action earned you a tired grunt in response and Nanami pushing your hand away and turning further into the couch. Shaking his shoulder again, you giggled when he swatted you away.

Returning the ice cream to the freezer, you grabbed a spare blanket and pillow, nearly dropping them both as you stumbled through your apartment. Throwing the blanket over his body haphazardly, you gingerly grabbed his head and put the pillow underneath it.

“Good night, Kento.” Whispering above his sleeping body, you felt butterflies in your stomach looking at him. You tried to stamp down the crush you had on him, reasoning with yourself that a man this serious and composed would never go for someone like you, but it never worked. You found yourself daydreaming about him constantly when you should have been working, fantasizing about having him join you for a meal or perhaps an outing to the city.

Taking one last look at his sleeping form, you drug yourself away to your bedroom to get some sleep of your own. The knowledge that Nanami was just a few feet away in the living room while you lay in your bed kept you up, nervous fits of giggles erupting from you as your imagination wandered.

Waking up some time later with a pounding headache and early morning light coming through your open curtains, you listened for any sound of Nanami still in your apartment. Taking a brief glance at the time, you expected him to have crawled home by now and be nursing his hangover with a cup of coffee.

Heaving yourself out of bed, you walked as quickly as possible to the bathroom and fumbled in the drawers for some painkillers. Downing a couple with no hesitation, you splashed some cool water on your face before finishing up and leaving the room.

“Oh, you’re still here.” Your voice was terribly quiet as your eyes landed on Nanami who was still fast asleep on the couch, completely disheveled with his shirt hiked up to reveal the relaxed muscles of his abdomen. Even deep in sleep he still had prominent abs with the dusting of a light happy trail below his belly button.

Reaching out in a trance, you ran your fingers lightly through his hair, just barely grazing his scalp with your nails. Repeating the motion several times, you worked out any knots he may have gotten during the night and further mussed the tresses.

“Feels good.” Nanami grumbled with his eyes still tightly closed. His voice was impossibly low and groggy as he twisted and turned on the couch. Your fingers went to scratch at his scalp when Nanami’s twisting earned him a tumble right to the ground and a surprised shout sounded upon contact.

“You okay?” Leaning over the couch, you gripped the cushioned backing tightly.

“F-fine, I’m-” Clearing his throat and trying to grab his bearings, Nanami ripped the blanket off him and sat up in a huff. “I’m fine.” As he spoke, he winced, clutching at his head.

“Hungover?” You asked with a small grin. Holding up a finger as he nodded, you made your way to the bathroom to grab the painkiller. “Come grab some water.” Motioning to the dining table, your grin got wider watching him struggle to stand.

“Do you have any coffee?”

Ten minutes later, Nanami was sunk into a dining chair with his forehead plastered to the table. He couldn’t even feel any regret for overstaying his welcome and getting too drunk to go home, all he could feel was a sick churning in his stomach and a throbbing in his head. The coffee had done a good job of waking him up, prompting him to fix his clothes and hair as best he could given the circumstance.

“Here you go.” Setting a plate down in front of him, you tried not to groan as you sat down yourself. Peeling his face off the table, Nanami never thought he could be this happy to see a plate of food.

Barely grunting out a word of thanks, he grabbed his utensils and started eating. His pained stomach slowly subsided, the warm food doing a good job at chasing away any lingering sickness in the back of his throat. It was only when his plate was empty did he realize he hadn’t spoken a single word to you.

“Thank you for the food.” Taking a gulp of coffee, he looked over at your own plate and realized he was still hungry.

“There’s more in the kitchen.” Flicking your chin in that direction, you slowly sipped your own drink as Nanami left to grab more food.

“I’m sorry.” He said once his second plate was empty and he’d already gotten another cup of coffee.

“For what?”

“I’ve overstayed my welcome. By a lot.” Grimacing as he looked at the time, he could just imagine the way you were feeling. Had you been able to sleep comfortably last night knowing he was here? You probably locked the door to your bedroom just to be safe, telling all your friends that your neighbor was drunk and passed out on your couch.

“Don’t be sorry, I don’t mind. It’s just like a sleepover.” Finishing the food on your plate, you pushed it away and leaned your head against the back of the chair. It was quiet for a moment with Nanami idly watching you breathe, and then you spoke again. “Do you think the cake is ready?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot.” Letting out a snort, you peeked at Nanami from the corner of your eye and laughed a bit more at his bewildered expression. “The cake we made yesterday.”

“Oh, yeah.” Letting out a rough exhale, Nanami shook his head to clear his thoughts. How could he forget the entire reason he’d come over in the first place? Did the alcohol really have that much of an affect on him?

“It looks set, what do you think?” Gingerly placing the cake tin on the table, you worried your lip as you looked over the cake for any imperfections. It looked perfect in the pan but who knew what would happen when you tried to remove it.

“Well don’t keep me waiting.” Reaching over the table to take the cake out himself, Nanami yelped when you smacked him away.

“No, don’t! What if it all oozes out onto the table?”

“We won’t know until we find out.” He wanted to reach out again but hesitated as he saw the twitch of your hand. “It won’t ooze all out, (Y/N), the cake is perfect.”

“How can you be so sure?” Your fingers curled around the tin; you wanted to believe him but knowing your luck it would end in disaster. But the longer you looked between him and the cake, the more you felt the pressure.

“I know because you made it. You’re a good baker, (Y/N).” Finishing the last sip of his coffee, Nanami pointed a finger at you. “Now either you take the cake out or I will.”

“Fine!” With trembling fingers you pushed the cake up from the bottom, painstakingly watching for any possible defects as it emerged.

“See, I told you it was perfect.” Nanami couldn’t help but feel smug at being right. The cake was picture perfect, not a lump or bump or empty spot in sight. The sigh of relief you let out was loud and completely deflated your chest.

“Thank god.” Setting the cake back in the tin, you stared at it from above, disbelief washing over you. “I can’t believe I really did it.” Laughing breathlessly, you straightened yourself up and glanced at your camera. “Guess I should start filming the reveal.”

“I think I’ll be going now.” Pushing himself up from his chair, Nanami gathered the dishes on the table and set them in the sink, ignoring the urge to stay even longer. He had to shower and change clothes, gather his composure and prepare himself for the work week ahead.

“It was nice having you over.” You mumbled, pushing in the chairs and slowly leading him to the front door. Neither of you really wanted this time together to end but it had to be done eventually. Gripping the doorknob, there was a slight delay before you opened the door.

“(Y/N)...” Drawing out your name, Nanami’s feet were stuck in place. Looking into your eyes, the longer he stared the less he wanted to step out into the hallway and back into reality. Digging his fingers into the doorframe, Nanami let his eyes begin to close softly, his vision turning slightly hazy as he aimed for your lips.

Time was moving too fast and too slow. With the sudden approach of Nanami, it was something you’d dreamed about for a long while, wondering what his lips would feel like against yours. But the open setting of where you two were, the sudden slamming door down the hall and noises filtering in from the outside world withdrew you from the moment you’d wanted for so long.

“O-oh.” You hadn’t even realized you’d put your hand up to stop Nanami from coming closer until he made contact. Both of you looked down at your hand in confusion and you turned red for different reasons.

“I’m sor-”

“I’ll see you later.” Cutting you off, Nanami kept his head down to try and save face, save himself from you seeing how utterly mortified he was at getting rejected. Taking a generous step into the hall, he made a beeline back to his apartment.

Unable to say much beyond a dejected and nearly silent goodbye, you closed your door shortly after Nanami closed his. Both of you leaned against the respective frames, Nanami cursing himself for being so forward and making you uncomfortable, and you beating yourself up for stopping him in the first place.

It only took a day for you to finish the video and upload it, adding your traditional flair and special touches that made Nanami smile every time he saw them. Trying to ignore the way you two had parted, he focused intensely on the video and every time there was a cut or jump in he recounted exactly what had happened in that moment that made you cut the clip out, be it choking on some crust or dropping the entire mixing bowl on the floor.

“I’m just feeling burnt out from all this social media stuff, I might take a break from cooking for a little while.” That was the last thing Nanami wanted to hear towards the end of one of your monthly vlogs. He’d noticed a slight downtrend in your content output shortly after you posted the collab video and while he hadn’t spoken to you since that fateful night, he hadn’t gotten any hints that you were feeling this way.

“I’ll still be active here and there, I have some other things already filmed and ready to be uploaded and some sponsored stuff for my Instagram but I just…” The heavy sigh you let out as you tried to find the words to articulate your feelings made Nanami frown. Watching the rest of the video with a heavy heart, he took a glance at the time.

“Let me make something to cheer them up.” He mumbled to himself. Yes it was nearing his usual bedtime and he was typically very strict about adhering to the schedule, but you needed him; or at least Nanami hoped you needed him in some way to make you feel better.

Burrowing around in his cupboards, he grabbed random ingredients and placed them on the counter. When Nanami wanted to make something, especially a baked good, he always had a plan on what he wanted to make. But now he was going off the cuff, coming up with a recipe on the fly and hoping it worked. He also grabbed his filming equipment and set it up, hoping that even if the recipe didn’t turn out well you would still find enjoyment in his videos.

It took him nearly two hours to make a chocolate souffle and he didn’t regret a single second of it. His whole apartment was warm and smelled of chocolate, steam rising and blurring the lense of the camera as he presented them. Taking a deep breath that turned into a loud yawn, Nanani felt proud of himself for completing the recipe even if it was an ungodly hour.

He was nearly a zombie by the time he put everything away and uploaded the footage to his computer but he couldn’t find it in him to go to bed just yet. He wanted to edit and upload the video as soon as possible so that you could have something to watch to take your mind off the hard time you were having.

The rising sun was Nanami’s indicator that he’d been up all night without even ten minutes of sleep, but he could proudly say he pulled his first all nighter for Youtube and finished the video right as his alarm went off. Posting it immediately, Nanami rushed around to gather his things and head out the door before he missed his usual train.

Dragging his feet throughout the day, he collapsed on the couch the moment he stepped through the door. He tried to keep up with his work while also checking to see if you’d liked the video or maybe commented but there was nothing from you, not even a cheeky little post on Twitter or your Instagram stories.

Running a dejected hand through his hair, Nanami pulled himself up from the couch and to the kitchen. Thankfully he was meticulous about being clean so there was no mess from last night waiting for him, easing his mind at least a little bit. Making a quick dinner, he ate over the kitchen sink as he thought of what to do next.

It only took a few seconds for him to decide to make another video at that very moment. Shoving the rest of his food in his mouth, Nanami turned to his cupboards once again, quickly deciding to make cookies as his hand landed on a box of chocolate. Ignoring the souffle sitting patiently in the fridge, Nanami set to work making another dish for you with no plan in the foreseeable future of actually giving you any of them.

This habit repeated until the end of the work week when Nanami had quite literally passed out on his couch after the repeated all nighters. None of his videos seemed to have the impact he wanted them to. You didn’t like or comment, your social media posts were either retweets or sponsored content and you hadn’t posted a new video in a while. He could hear you in your apartment sometimes, talking to yourself or playing music and singing along, so he knew you hadn’t run away.

Waking up in a haze well after the sunset, Nanami felt at his wits end. He was doing everything he could to get you to cheer up without having to face you directly and it wasn’t working. He had a fridge full of desserts he was going to give you at some point and a horde of videos up on his channel you could watch but he needed to do something more.

(S/N): hey, I hope you feel better soon

As Nanami prepared for a shower, he wasn’t in his right mind to care about the fact that he’d just messaged you on Twitter instead of through text like he originally meant. Talking to you through his online persona wasn’t something he really wanted to do but he couldn’t turn back now.

Taking a long hot shower, Nanami forgot about the message he sent you, too wrapped up in finally getting to unwind. Doing his nighttime routine and burrowing into bed, he checked his phone one last time.

(Y/N): hearing my idol say this has made my day so much better, thank you so much T_T

“Your idol?” Nanami chuckled to himself, a light blush coming over his face as he sunk into his pillows.

(S/N): you’re welcome. If you ever want to chat about how you’re feeling or anything, I’m open to listen.

Pushing through sleep to send that final message, Nanami tossed his phone onto his bedside table and promptly went to sleep with a small smile on his face.

Generously oversleeping, Nanami woke up in an overheated, messy pile of blankets. Thankful for the weekend, he took his time coming to his senses and getting out of bed. His hand automatically drifted to his phone, tired mind eager to see if you had responded.

(Y/N): I would definitely love to chat!

(S/N): you called me your idol, I take it you’ve been watching my videos for a while?

Nanami had to ask, he needed to know just how much you liked his content. He didn’t have to wait long for a response, just as he poured his first cup of coffee his phone went off.

(Y/N): I’ve been watching your videos since you first started posting!! Your content is the number one reason I started my own channel

(S/N): I’m really touched, I’m glad I could be such a big inspiration for you

(Y/N): you really are! I admire you so much, you’re so serious about your craft

(Y/N): especially the fact that you put out a new video every day this week! I want to be as dedicated as you someday

While your statement bolstered his confidence greatly, it also put a heavy weight on Nanami’s shoulders. As you chatted more and more, Nanami felt the urge to go and make something else to keep the trend of uploading daily. There was a possibility that you were going to start posting again, you’d said so yourself, and Nanami wanted to make it a reality.

Ignoring the food in his fridge and on the counters that still needed to go to you or be eaten, Nanami pushed himself to film two videos that day. It was hard to make sure everything was perfect twice over but he managed and by the end of the day he was sitting at his computer eating flan and editing the videos.

Taking advantage of the weekend, Nanami pulled another all-nighter and filmed as many videos as he could. He ran himself completely ragged between filming, cooking and making sure to message you back consistently. Your conversation progressed naturally, flowing from one topic to another as if you were speaking face to face with each other. Nanami felt the urge to tell you it was him, that your idol was actually your neighbor, but the memory of your rejection still stung and he held off. You probably wouldn’t like him anymore if you learned the truth, so for now he was going to hold off.

By the time Monday rolled around and his alarm went off in the morning, Nanami had gotten a solid two hours of sleep and was nursing a growing headache. Somehow he managed to edit all the videos he filmed, putting them in a little queue to be uploaded everyday while he struggled through the work week.

Zoning in and out for the whole day, it was a miracle that he managed to come home in one piece. Nanami didn’t remember stepping into his office building let alone getting on the train home. Lacking the strength to even eat a proper meal, he stripped down to his underwear and slept on top of his blankets while running a high fever.

Waking up throughout the night in a cold sweat, Nanami knew when he woke up to the sound of his alarm that he couldn’t go to work. With a heavy head and runny nose, just looking in the mirror made him cringe.

“I look like shit.” His voice was gravelly and thick and he had to clear his throat several times after speaking. Leaving a quick message for his boss, Nanami splashed cold water on his face and went back to bed.

The next two days melted into each other and there were several instances where Nanami went into a coughing fit and was sure you could hear through the walls. With only enough strength to feed himself soup and cough medicine, Nanami was left to suffer alone. He heard notifications on his phone go off and every once in a while he would respond to something you sent but for the most part he was dead to the world.

A knock at the door roused him from a deep slumber in the middle of the day, sweating under a pile of blankets but too cold to take them off. He tried to ignore it at first, but the sound refused to stop and through his muddled brain Nanami was sure he could hear your voice.

“C-coming!” Grunting loudly, Nanami’s usually quiet footsteps thumped against the floor. Passing a mirror in the hall, he was glad he at least had an acceptable top and bottom on before he opened the door. Leaning heavily against the doorframe, Nanami sniffled loudly as he made eye contact with you and drifted downwards to the stack of mail in your hand.

“I uh, I have your mail.” Shuffling awkwardly on your feet, you didn’t know where to look. This was the first time you were seeing each other in two months and Nanami hated that he looked and felt absolutely awful. “Nanami? Are you okay?” The concern on your face was outweighing the awkwardness in the air.

“Not really.” He sighed, shrugging his shoulders mindlessly. “I feel like shit.” His brazen statement made you snort. Taking the mail from your outstretched hand, he was about to thank you when you suddenly spoke.

“Have you eaten today?” Your eyes scanned his face and the bad dark circles under his eyes.

“No.” Answering truthfully, Nanami didn’t protest when you made the move to enter his apartment, not that he would have stopped you in the first place.

“Let me make you something, you need to eat properly if you want to get better!” Slapping his mail on the dining table, you pointed to the couch. “Go sit down and relax.” Turning on your heel as soon as you finished speaking, you dug around in the kitchen for something to cook. Dragging his feet, Nanami grabbed a small blanket from his bedroom before returning to the living room and taking residence on the couch like you asked.

“I haven’t- haven’t gone grocery shopping in a while.” Coughing loudly, Nanami ran a hand through his hair. He could hear you rummaging through the fridge and making little noises in the back of your throat.

“There sure is a lot of moldy desserts in here.” Looking over his shoulder and into the kitchen, Nanami chuckled watching you pull out some of the desserts he’d filmed and throw them away. They were unrecognizable from when he first made them, all of them having gone bad and disintegrating in their containers. It was a shame he didn’t get a chance to eat most of them, but he was so caught up in filming as much as possible that the thought of having all the leftover food to deal with didn’t cross his mind.

“Hey, how about we order takeout?” Running hot water over a dish that used to have chocolate cake in it, your lip was curled up in disgust.

“Takeout sounds good.”

Twenty minutes later, Nanami had taken more medicine at your request and had a plate of steaming food in his hands, his first proper meal in a very long time. Putting on the TV for some light background noise, the two of you ate side by side.

“I’m glad I came to deliver your mail, I was worried about you, Nanami. I could hear you coughing at night.”

“Sorry.”

“Why’re you apologizing for being sick? It’s not your fault! Just promise me you’ll get better soon, okay?” Giving his shoulder a brief squeeze, your fingers lingered on his body for a few seconds before sliding off. There was a comfortable lull in the conversation for a moment, the two of you eating quietly and fiddling on your phone. Nanami tried not to snoop, but he could see you silently watching a Youtube video on your phone.

“Do you want to watch that on the TV?” He asked quietly, sliding the remote towards you. Giving him a sheepish smile, you quickly put the video up for him to watch as well. Nanami wasn’t surprised that it was one of his videos you were watching, he still had many queued up to be posted, but he was surprised that he didn’t remember a single moment of filming said video.

“Look at the flowers he made on the bread!” Pointing to the screen, you lightly stamped your feet on the floor. “I’m so jealous, whenever I try to make focaccia bread like that it always turns out so ugly!” Nanami nodded along silently; once he was finished with the video for the bread he ate it all in one sitting and had a massive stomach ache.

Grabbing your phone, you tapped away in the comment section of the video, leaving an abundant amount of emojis along with your praising words. Going to Twitter, you tweeted about his video as well and as soon as you hit send Nanami got a notification for the post. His eyes darted to see if you had noticed and luckily you hadn’t, but soon there was a flurry of little dings on his phone.

“Woah Nanami, someone sure is messaging you a lot.” You chuckled and Nanami nearly grabbed his phone off the coffee table and threw it across the room; there was no way that you couldn’t see all the messages were from you. You even leaned forward a little bit to take a peek at who it was.

“Y-yeah, they are.” Fumbling to grab his phone before you could put the pieces together, Nanami had forgotten about the plate of food in his lap and it slid to the ground, immediately beginning to soak into the rug and stain it. Letting out a string of curses, Nanami forgot about his phone and rushed to clean up the spilled food.

Hearing his phone clatter to the ground, Nanami was torn between abandoning his cleaning efforts and stopping you from seeing his phone. He tried to stutter something out, a feeble attempt to draw your attention away as you clearly saw your screen name on his phone.

“What’s this?” You asked quietly, too quietly for Nanami’s comfort. He was still stammering out some excuses, but as you picked up the phone and read your name out loud, he knew it was over.

“I can explain.” His adrenaline was pumping and it was making him begin to sweat profusely. He could clearly tell there was a blush on his face much deeper than the one already there from his fever. Picking up the ruined plate of food, he tried to buy himself more time to try and explain what was happening.

Looking you over, all the excuses Nanami had were coming apart. Every word he could say was falling flat, not just because of his illness but because he found it less and less appealing to try and lie. Forcing himself to take deep breaths, Nanami turned to face you.

“I...I’m (S/N).” Taking the phone from you, he showed you the Twitter messages between the two of you. As he went through the evidence, his social media pages and Youtube channel, he could see your face changing and he couldn’t read your expression. Worrying his lip, Nanami was afraid to ask what you thought of him now.

“This is insane.” You finally spoke after a few minutes, looking down at your own phone. “Who would have guessed my neighbor would turn out to be my biggest idol, too?” Slapping a hand over your face as you came to terms with the realization, you laughed a little. “Oh god, that means you saw my reaction video to your hands.”

“Yeah, I did.” Laughing along, Nanami let out a sigh of relief. You seemed to be okay with what he just told you and there was something else weighing on his mind. “You know, since I’m already confessing to secrets, there’s something else I need to tell you, (Y/N).”

“What is it?” Tilting your head to the side, your brows furrowed slightly in concern. Forcing himself to make eye contact despite the nerves he felt, Nanami let out one short breath before speaking.

“I like you, a lot.” He was surely running the highest fever he’d ever experienced now, there was no doubt about it. He was absolutely boiling, sweating buckets waiting for your reaction to this news.

“Really?” You whispered, mouth hanging open slightly.

“Really.” Based on your reaction, Nanami was steeling himself for a rejection. He should have known you wouldn’t feel the same way, he was a fool for getting his hopes up and reading into signals that weren’t there-

“I like you too.” Yet here you were, slowly weaving your fingers together and squeezing his hand. You refused to make eye contact anymore, too embarrassed from the onslaught of emotions going through you. Squeezing your hand back, Nanami ran his thumb over your skin.

“Well then, when I’m better I’d like to take you on a date.”

“As Nanami Kento or as (S/N)?” You teased, giggling to yourself as Nanami made a noise in the back of his throat.

“You already know the answer.” Finally able to relax in his seat again, Nanami let a big smile overtake his face when you cuddled into his side. “You shouldn’t be so close, you might get sick too.”

“I’ll take the risk.” Looping your arms together, you suddenly sat up. “Hey, Nanami.”

“Hm?” Turning to face you, Nanami’s eyes went wide as you kissed him. Your lips were soft, a pleasant feeling against his that he wanted to experience again and again. Kissing you back, it was a short interaction as he quickly parted to cough into the crook of his elbow.

“(Y/N), you shouldn’t kiss me, you’re going to get sick.” As much as he wanted to kiss you again, he didn’t want to be the reason you wound up in the same position as him.

“I’ll gladly take that risk.” Giving him a peck on the lips and one on the cheek, you resumed your position cuddled into him. “So all that rotting food in your fridge was from your videos?”

“Sadly, yes.”

“Next time you want to upload a video everyday, call me, okay? I would gladly like to eat your cooking again.”

“Well you don’t have to wait for that, I’ll cook for you anytime you want.”

“Will you cook with me on my channel?” You looked at him hopefully.

“I’ll think about it.” He would have to make sure you didn’t accidentally expose his identity or your new budding relationship.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Giving him a big hug, you fixed the blanket over the two of you. Nanami wanted to protest and reaffirm that he would think about it, but with the way you were pressed into his side, he couldn’t find it in him.

“Alright, it’s a yes.”

[anarkittyuwuuniverse]

I was thinking a lot about alienation today. About how many aspects of society are alienating, or alienated from us. How integral that alienation is for the preservation of capitalism/civilization/hierarchy/kyriarchy/"the system" or whatever else you wanna call it. I'm not only talking about the marxist concept of the alienation of labour; of how we get alienated by working for wages and the generation of capital rather than for the work itself, but of how we are generally kept from having personal intimate relationships to the objects, people and processes we interact with on a daily basis. Take food for example. Food is such a fundamental part of the daily life of any human, but the process of making it is completely absent from so many people's lives. I've met so many people who only barely knew how to cook, and could usually only rigidly follow a couple of simple recipes, having no knowledge about how to put together something new, how to combine different tastes, how to get all the different nutrients you need. A lot of that applies to myself as well. Much of the food we eat is made by other people, which in itself is reasonable enough. Cooking is such a time-consuming activity and even without the workload of capitalism it's a bit unreasonable to expect any one person to cook all their own meals. But the ready made meals we buy plastic wrapped in supermarkets is not made in the context of loved ones sharing with one another, the cook is completely absent, the act of eating impersonal. We don't harvest the ingredients that goes into making the meal, we have other, faceless people pluck them for us. Far away from us. We don't see our foods' beginnings, we don't touch the soil it is born in, we don't get familiar with the processes that make them thrive, we don't learn about their lives. We don't see their ends either, we "throw away" the scraps. We have other people take care of it. We missed their births and we don't partake in their funerals either, the decay that sustains new births. Concrete and bricks have barred us from the environments where these things happen, we live in the liminal space between birth and death that leads us to think that an "away" in which you can throw things even exist in the first place. A process that becomes even more sinister in the case of animals, whose bodies we bestow whole new names upon ("beef", "pork") in an effort to dim the reality of the living creature, to conceal the brutalities that are inflicted upon them for the sake of our consumption. All of this serves to create dependence on the powers that be. How would they keep us working and consuming if we made habits out of growing our own food, sewing our own clothes and building our own houses? They need to have us believe that not just anyone could do this, that farmer, manufacturer and builder are things that you are rather than things that you do. That you have to leave it to the professionals, to let creation happen according the terms of capital. Of course they do make sure that we have some knowledge. With the invention of compulsory education they benevolently open the doors of learning to everyone, as long as the learning happens according to their terms, to their standards. As long as they get to pick what needs to be learned, and by what method it should be learned. As long as learning remains alienating, coerced rather than actively chosen, motivated by the hunt for grades, marks and status, rather than the joy of learning itself.

Something so personal as the body is alienated as well, forced to assimilate to the standards set by hierarchy. Gender must be performed to please the sensibilities of cisnormativity, rather than for the inherent pleasure of expressing one's own authentic gender identity. POC, fat and physically disabled people are barely allowed to even enjoy their own bodies, constantly labeled as less than, or something to be worked on, or something tragic. When talking about this with my partner they pointed out that neurodivergent people may be the ones most resistant to this whole process. That we fight all this by becoming so completely "unalienated" from specific things, so invested, passionate and fixated on our interests that the rest of society alienates us for it. Pathologizing our joy for having no ulterior motives, for not being characterized by desire for power and status, for us having no interest in pleasing them, to play by their social rules. Because the only real way of fighting this system is by not playing by its rules. By creating, interacting and playing on our own terms. By relearning learning. Relearning passion, joy, sharing, relationships. By reconnecting with what they have disconnected us from.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 2

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village

Rating: T for language and mild medical drama

Warnings: Typical Vampire shenanigans

Genre: Hurt + comfort

Summary: Bela is somewhat unprepared to deal with a soulmate who has no clue about her condition, her family, or any of the village's secrets. Thankfully, her sister Cassandra is more than willing to be a bad example. Also there's some fluff.

Notes: For reference, each of my soulmate stories take place in their own contained timeline, since they each involve different types of soulmates. So in this one, Cass doesn't currently have a soulmate.

Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow

2: Tangled Strands

A gentle humming fills the space around you, as fingers slowly run through your hair. As far as you can tell you had fallen back asleep, for several hours, and you were just now waking back up. No longer holding you down, your soulmate is curled up next to you. There’s still a needle in your arm, much to your irritation, but now you can finally see what it’s connected to: An IV for a transfusion. Explains why I’m feeling so much better than before, you think. Then you’re turning your head to the other side, eager to finally get a good look at your soulmate. Instantly you’re blushing, tongue tying itself into a knot, because wow are you lucky.

“Feeling any better?” She asked, as soon as your gaze met hers. You try to stutter out a confirmation, but you’re too distracted by the soft curve of her smile to speak, and barely even manage a nod. That beautiful smile grows wider in response. “Good. I couldn’t stand the thought of you suffering more, after what you’ve already been through.” Now her smile fades, and she looks away for a few moments. Watching it makes your heart ache. So you swallow the lump in your throat, willing yourself to relax, before trying a little comforting of your own.

“I am safe now, am I not? Moreso, we have too much to talk about for us to dwell on the ill circumstances of our introduction. Let us cherish this time, in respite, with our hearts open wide to one another,” you said, donning your softest smile. Somehow your words fulfill their purpose, and your soulmate is once again grinning. Slowly she leans forward to rest her forehead against yours. Then she’s speaking, voice as smooth as the sheets you lay on.

“You are right, of course. I simply wish I could have saved you sooner,” she replied, tone betraying the sadness that her expression otherwise hid. Before you can protest, she continues talking, and you soon forget all about your qualms. “To think I don’t even know your name yet… nor you mine, I suppose. Let’s remedy that, yes? I am Bela Dimitrescu.” Something about her last name feels familiar to you, but not to the point of clear recognition. Instead of inquiring, you return her favor, giving her your own name. She repeats it back a few times, letting the syllables roll off her tongue, and you feel your heart skip a few beats. “A lovely name for a lovely soul, perfectly paired.”

A pause, followed by Bela reaching out to examine your IV. Following her gaze, you turn to the metal hook adjacent to the bed, where a blood bag hangs. Only a few drops remain inside. Just as when you first awoke, Bela gives a soft hum, then rises into a sitting position. Your first instinct is to copy the motion, and you’re relieved when (this time) she doesn’t push you back down. Both of you quietly inch your hands closer until they’re laid on top of each other.

“I wish I knew more about medicine, but unfortunately my family is more experienced in the creation of wounds than the treatment of them,” Bela said, scowling. Confused, you tilt your head at a slight angle, watching her with interest. Am I supposed to know who she’s referring to? My memories of the past couple days are still hazy, you think. “Do… do you remember how you ended up in the dungeon? I know you wanted to speak of happier things, and we can, soon. It’s just… Knowing how you arrived here may help me deal with the consequences of freeing you. Mother will be dreadfully upset that I’ve interrupted a draining, even if we are soulmates.”

“Wait, are you saying…? The intimidating giantess who strung me up and attempted to bleed me dry… is your mother?” You asked, jaw nearly dropping to the floor. This was an unexpected development, for sure.

“You didn’t know?” Bela replied, eyes going wide for a moment. Clearly she wouldn’t have said anything if she realized you weren’t already aware. Suddenly the tension in the room is palpable, with an uncomfortable silence overtaking the two of you. In the moment, you cannot even bring yourself to look at Bela, too stunned by this new knowledge. Eventually she breaks the silence, voice sounding unsure for once. “I realize that this is a lot to take in, if you need time to process it, I… I can go. But you need to understand that our situation is far more complicated than it might appear. We cannot survive without the blood of others- it is what sustains us when nothing else can.”

Now you’re staring at her like she’s crazy, and she’s standing up, moving to the other side of the room. She draws back a curtain, gazing out into the snow covered hills. Every muscle in your body is urging you to run while she’s distracted. Thread of fate be damned, this went far beyond anything you had ever imagined having to deal with. You come so close to ripping the IV right out of your arm. But a gentle tug on your soul string makes you pause, remembering all the times this bond gave you hope in dark times. Had she felt the same way, all these years? What had she gone through, in this absurd castle, on the very edges of civilization? You pull on the red thread, feeling a wave of composure wash over you.

“It appears there is much I need to learn. But is that not the very nature of our connection? We know, simply, that we are bound to each other, though we know not what shapes our souls take so that we might put them together, nor even what roles we must play. I cannot say that I understand your plight, my dear, but I will try, as is my obligation, and my honor,” you said, wishing you could hold her, and cursing your IV. As soon as the first word leaves your mouth, Bela is turning around, watching you with a bittersweet expression. Once you’re done she’s moving closer, as if reading your mind, extending a hand to cup your cheek. Then she leans forward to press a brief kiss to your forehead. “Oh, how I have longed for this- to be with you, to get to know you.”

“As did I,” she murmured. You can’t help but lean into her touch, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment. “Perhaps I should introduce you to my family? I imagine you’ll be needing breakfast anyway, and bringing human food back to my quarters would raise more suspicion than I’d like.” Well, the moment couldn’t last forever, could it?

“Only if you promise that your mother won’t suspend me by my wrists again. Or by any other part of me. Shall we simply put suspension off the table altogether?” You asked, half teasing. To be entirely honest, you were equally worried about Bela’s sisters. Well, the people you had heard other prisoners whispering about, who were the daughters of the giantess, and by connecting a few dots were also, presumably, Bela’s sisters. Apparently they preferred to play with their food. Unless, of course, Bela was one of the daughters you had heard about, and would have easily torn into you if not for your connection. Let’s not dwell on that concept, you think, glad to be distracted by your soulmate.

“I will not let anyone harm you anymore, my beloved. My mother would not stand so firmly in the way of my happiness,” Bela reassured, though you detected a hint of uncertainty in her tone. Still, there wasn’t much you could do other than trust her. “Now, let me take care of your bandages, then we’ll head downstairs…”

---------------------------------

“Who the fuck is this?” An unfamiliar voice asked, as you meandered down the corridor, arm around Bela for support. As soon as she hears the person speak, your soulmate is freezing in place, casting a worried glance over her shoulder. When you turn as well, you spot someone dressed almost identically to Bela. However, the woman wears a yellow pendant, as opposed to a red one, and her hair is a dark brown. It feels safe to assume that she’s one of the sisters you’ve heard about. Which understandably makes you nervous, to the point where you almost want to hide behind Bela. Instead, you stand tall, attempting to seem unfazed by either her presence or her vulgarity.

“Mind your manners, Cassandra,” Bela hissed, taking more of an aggressive stance than you had anticipated. “This, dear sister, is my soulmate. And if you even think about harming them, or getting in our way, I will tear you apart.” While you’re downright shocked at the intensity of Bela’s statement, her sister doesn’t look at all impressed, and eyes you with minimal interest. Better than looking at you with hatred, right? Apparently not, as Bela moves to stand between the two of you, eyes narrowed. There’s a clear stiffness in her posture that leaves you anxious. Cassandra seems to notice it as well, and laughs, before taking a few steps in your direction. Then your soulmate mimics the movement, forcing you to do so as well.

“They’re human,” Cassandra snapped, pausing to sniff the air and scowl. “Here I thought your soulmate would have to be special, if they’re to compare to your ego. You’re disappointed, aren’t you? Having to settle for this.” With that she shifts, flesh writhing, making your stomach churn as you watch her disintegrate into a cloud of… flies? What the hell is wrong with this family? Can Bela do that too? I hope not, you think. Soon you’re pulled from your thoughts, however, as the swarm circles around you, single insects occasionally surging forward to cut at your skin. But Bela is grabbing you by the sleeve and tugging you to her chest, moving against a wall so that her body shielded your own. Your eyes clamp shut as you shake in her arms. When the buzzing stops, it is quickly replaced with cruel laughter. “That fragile, hmm? I can’t wait to see what mother thinks. See you at breakfast, sister!”

Then the two of you are alone, still pressed against the wall, staying still until the sound of footsteps fade. You’re stunned, unsure of how to react. The fact that a few drops of blood roll down your cheek only makes things worse. Still, Bela managed to prevent you from getting too hurt, and the few wounds on your body are negligible. Ever filled with gratitude, you hold her close as you try to stutter out a few sentences.

“Is she always this hostile, or am I truly not what you had expected? No, pay me no mind, it hardly matters. Thank you for protecting me,” you whispered. In response, Bela gives you a little squeeze, then pulls back enough to wipe the blood from your face. There’s a hint of something odd in her expression, which you interpret to be related to her apparent ‘need for blood’. Thankfully, she is in perfect control, and does not frenzy the same way you had read about fictional vampires doing. But she does hesitate, words dying on her tongue, like there are a thousand things she wants to say, and no words to say them with. “It’s alright, my dear. Let’s just go to breakfast, like we planned, and hope your sister behaves better when supervised.”

Bela nods, quickly, before taking your hand in her own. Whatever awaited you in the dining room, the two of you would be ready. Hopefully.

[britishassistant]

So imagine that Reporter Yuu and Student Yuu have to meet up to drop off the heads to their respective worlds , V!riddle and s! Riddle are comparing which version of aduces is worse. V!leona is telling s!leona to drop out. V! Azul and s! Azul are comparing business models and leech twins. V!jamil is flexing his independence on s!jamil, whose planning to hex him to hell and back. V! Vi and S! Vil are being shady drama kings towards each other. V! Idia and S! Idia are swapping anime recommendations and ortho upgrades. And v! malleus and s! Malleus are having an argument over favorite gargoyle architect or something lmao

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

Riddle is a little confused by the fact this supervillain in a half red and white mask insists on talking to him about Ace, Deuce, Trey and Cater, while simultaneously insisting that he has no relation to him.

All the same, he advises the supervillain to tell Dr. Rosehearts to try talking to his mother— it was hard for Riddle to do over the holidays, but he at least managed to get her to look at him and see him as himself rather than as her “project”, even if it was only for a moment.

It’ll still be hard from here, but Riddle knows it’s better than just blindly following his mother’s rules and letting her have her way.

Royal Flush is taken aback by the words from his younger self. Personally, he’s unsure if that will really change anything, or just make his life harder than it has to be, but if there’s a chance...

Leona isn’t sure whether to be offended or not when King tells him to either graduate or drop out of Night Raven College already. He’s leaning towards it on principle, because this adult version of him is just presuming to tell him what to do with his life.

King asks him if he has any better ideas for flipping the bird to Farena—after all, sitting around on his ass is the same as admitting his goody-two-shoes brother has already won by doing nothing, isn’t it? King has an entire evil lair and an army of minions at his fingertips, and his version of Farena is forced to deal with him disrupting the peaceful little realm he inherited, unable to bring King to heel or make him toe the line.

An evil kingdom of his very own that can’t be taken away from him.

Leona points out that King still has to babysit Cheka. King changes the subject.

Octo Dealer places his hands on Azul’s shoulders and offers his sincere commiserations for having to deal with the younger Leeches.

He then tries to make a contract with him to ‘make poor unfortunate Azul’s life easier’.

Azul smiles thinly and offers a counter-contract to take the adult Leeches off of Octo Dealer’s hands if he believes dealing with them is so difficult. Azul can personally think of several things he could achieve off the top of his head if he had adult versions of his friends under his control, and the competition would be interesting enough that he could play them off each other masterfully...

Octo Dealer has never felt so proud.

Snake Charmer is pretending that he’s conversing with the younger version of a hostage he’s taken while talking to Jamil, not that he thinks for a moment that his younger self actually buys the lie. But both of them know the importance of keeping up appearances in front of others, so neither address what both know.

Of course, Snake Charmer can’t resist taking advantage of this to subtly boast about all he’s accomplished, partly to challenge his younger self to aspire to the same heights, partly because he can’t resist showing off to someone who knows his true identity but cannot expose him. He has freedom, the power to do whatever he wants whenever he wants, followers who are lousy with loyalty, admirers throughout the city and nemeses who cannot touch him no matter how they wish to bring him down. But a mere babysitter to a spoiled heir wouldn’t know what that feels like, now would they?

Jamil grits his teeth behind his calm smile, and rolls his magic pen between his fingers.

He retorts almost innocently whether all those things are really accomplishments if they can only be achieved while hiding behind a mask and fake facial hair.

The way Snake Charmer’s eyes narrow at him as he smiles back lets Jamil know he’s won this round.

Vil admires the high quality of Poison Queen’s costume and persona, even if he personally scorns the ugliness of stooping to supervillainy to try and surpass a rival who’s little more than a glorified flasher with good publicity. He’d hoped his older self would have the dignity and beauty to be able surpass someone who plays around in bows and frills.

Consider the costume itself—if Poison Queen could use their skills in designing to market a line of clothes aimed both at consumers and costume departments, whoever his civilian identity is would have his prestige boosted to new heights the likes of that crass ‘White Neige’ could never hope to reach.

Why waste all this talent and effort on supervillainy instead?

Poison Queen scoffs at Vil’s moralizing, making a snide comment about the rasp that’s audible when the little prefect from Vil’s school breathes and talks. It catches them off-guard a lot when they hear it, so it’s a new development, one that’s been induced artificially rather than developed naturally. What, exactly, would Twst!Yuu have needed to be exposed to in order to develop an affliction like this? Some kind of airborne toxin perhaps? A potent one, to be sure, requiring extensive and perfectionist experience with poisons to be able to brew something that left that kind of damage. But what circumstances would have necessitated the creation of such a thing, hm?

Vil goes quiet after that. Poison Queen takes it as a sign of victory. It may be ugliness, but Vil of all people shouldn’t pretend that he’s free of it. Hypocrisy is the ugliest thing of all.

Idia has some questions for Charon about the few robots he caught sight of in the lair before escaping to go to Yuu’s apartment. Charon, who has never been to Yuu’s apartment in person, starts muttering that it’s typical that even an alternate version of himself has better luck than him.

Idia struggles with this idea for several minutes.

Eventually Charon grows impatient enough with his blue-screening that he orders Idia just to ask what he was going to ask. He softens a lot once Idia begins asking about how to reproduce some of the taste sensors and digestive systems of the giant robotic three-headed dogs so that Ortho can eat candy with him while they play games together.

They quickly descend into a jargon-filled back and forth as they debate about how to best merge the technology of the supervillain world with the magitech of Twisted Wonderland so that Ortho not only can eat candy, but convert the sweets into fuel to supplement his current power source.

Twst!Yuu is very confused at how two people can hold a conversation entirely through tablets while standing right in front of each other and looking at each other.

Tsunotaro and Malleus appear to get along at first, chatting quietly about the different gargoyle architecture available in each of their universes, and if the loneliness ever gets more bearable.

And then R!Yuu claps their hands and says everyone needs to get a move on back to their home dimensions as they’re burning daylight, and Tsunotaro nods, picks up Twst!Yuu, and tries to walk back through the portal to the supervillain universe with them safely tucked under one arm.

When R!Yuu grabs him and asks what does he think he’s doing, Tsunotaro just blinks owlishly. “That dimension isn’t suitable for this child to grow up safely in. Wouldn’t it be better to taken them home so we can look after them together?”

R!Yuu is reduced to sputtering at the insinuation, the other supervillains feeling supremely irritated at the display.

Malleus seizes onto Twst!Yuu’s arm. He refuses to just stand by and just let his older self take away his first friend. Tsunotaro asks menacingly if his younger self really thinks he’ll stand a chance against an adult fae’s power, if he can’t even protect one human.

From there it devolves into a standoff between the two powerhouses, the other NRC students preparing to draw their magic wands if it turns into a fight for the prefect, Reporter Yuu trying desperately to get Tsunotaro to just let the other version of themself go before the colliding magic and superpowers do something catastrophic to both portals.

It only calms down once Twst!Yuu pipes up that while they appreciate the offer, they want to go back to Night Raven College with their friends, pointing out that they’d be even less safe as the child of a supervillain in a world they have no idea how to navigate than they currently are as just a magicless student. Besides, they say, a thumb brushing over the bandages on their throat. They have a friend they need to go talk to. If they just left without doing that, they’d probably hate themselves for it for the rest of their lives. They can’t turn their back on him and leave him alone.

Between the two Yuus, Tsunotaro is convinced to reluctantly put them down and let them return to the other students. He’s sulking a lot though.

[interact-if]

Day 2 of Pride Month interviews! You know them, you love them…. give it up for Ames!

Ames, author of Attollo and Metamorphosis

Pride Month Featured Authors

“…and it was a singular, terrible thought, which burrowed itself into your mind like an engorged maggot. This was not a man nor a monster. This was a concept, an ideology, a terrible myth, which had personified itself to stand before you now.You were, to put it simply, screwed.”

After several years of radio silence, you receive a message from your younger sibling that carries a strange sense of urgency to it. Either out of familial concern or boredom, you embark on a journey from your residence to your sibling’s apartment in New Hampshire to see what’s going on and, hopefully, be home before the weekend.

Too bad it’s never so simple.

Demo: Attollo, Metamorphosis (TBA)

Tags: cybernoir, thriller

(INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT!)

Q1: Tell us a little bit about your project(s)!

Attollo is a cyber-noir horror set in a walled city off the coast of the Atlantic that’s been a victim of a nuclear disaster. After several years of radio silence, you receive a message from your younger sibling that carries a strange sense of urgency to it. Either out of familial concern or boredom, you embark on a journey from your residence to your sibling’s apartment in New Hampshire to see what’s going on and, hopefully, be home before the weekend. Too bad it’s never so simple. Attollo is a 17+ game that deals with heavy topics and a lot of moral questioning; from cults to corrupt government, it has no shortage of monsters in the dark—both metaphorical and literal.

Metamorphosis is a crime/horror story based in the world of crime scene cleanup, where there are three simple steps: Get the call, clean the scene, and don’t ask too many questions. These are the rules that you live by under the employment of Noctua’s Crime Scene Services, and you credit them for keeping you alive.

However, after a routine house call brings forth nightmares of memories that are not your own, you find yourself pulled deeper into Noctua—a city of both monster and man—in a bid to find out the truth behind the murder of Deirdre Callow, and better yet, how her memories came to be yours. Your job mandates that you don’t dig too deep—but could this finally be the exception?

Metamorphosis is 18+ and will have explicit content; follow the last moments of a stranger to find out not only who took her life, but how this connects to the underbelly that Noctua works so hard to hide.

Q2: Why interactive fiction? What drew you to the medium?

Lmaoo, oh man. I think it really all began last summer when I first found examples of interactive fiction. I don’t even remember how I came across it, it might’ve been that I saw it mentioned in a post or I saw it as a tag on Itch.io, but at some point, last summer I began to investigate it more. I think what really drew me in was the ability for the player to control the narrative; it was like playing an old RPG, but modernized, and the fact that I could see a story unfold that was influenced by my decisions was so fascinating to me. Not to mention that IF allows so much more character depth than regular novels, in my opinion.

I’m 99% sure my first exposure to interactive fiction was through the game Crème de la Crème (a fantastic game, by the way) and I just enjoyed it so much that I went haywire for the genre. Then Temple of the Endless Night came out (another fantastic game that I’m looking forward to!), and that was really the turning point for inspiring me to give it a go. Now, almost a year later, here I am working on my own two games!

Q3: Are your characters influenced by your identity? How?

My bisexuality doesn’t have much of a major influence on the game, but I do think it contributed to the way that I view and write relationships. I figured out my sexuality around high school (I kissed a girl in high school and found out I liked it just as much as when I kissed a boy) and since then I’ve been very involved in the LGBTQ+ community of both my hometown and uni town.

I think this involvement, like being able to hear about other people’s experiences and share my own, has made me feel a lot more comfortable writing some of the characters in the game. Although Attollo and Metamorphosis both don’t focus heavily on relationships (both have murder in them, which I feel is a bit more pressing), I do keep the option for any RO’s to be romanced by anyone, regardless of gender or preference, because that’s simply what I’ve become so attuned to. In terms of side characters relationships as well, I think my involvement and my own experiences have allowed me to write far more diverse relationships than I might have, and I think that this has also allowed a more fulfilling experience for players when reading through.

I also have incorporated some struggles that I’ve faced before because of my identity into the games. For example, I and a few others have faced issues with religion due to who we are, and I incorporate this into both games. Dreamwalker, Pariah, and Sysba from Attollo all have shadows of this experience in their character origins, and Ilali and Ariston from Metamorphosis has a major point involving identity and beliefs. Both games also have undertows of ostracization and division between groups, which is also something I’ve experienced in the past. Being able to grapple these moments and control them via a narrative has been eye opening for both myself and others involved, and I’m hoping it can be a learning experience for the readers as well.

Q4: What would you like to see more of in LGBT+ fiction?

I think, now, the amount of progress in LGBTQ+ fiction is expanding at a wonderful rate. There are so many interactive fictions with options to select sexuality, select gender, select beliefs, etc. However, despite this expansion, there’s still a good deal of backlash against some aspects of LGBTQ+ fiction.

For example, as a bisexual woman who has dated men, I know there are some individuals who may not consider me a part of the LGBTQ+ because of this aspect. Not only is this incredibly disheartening, but it’s a viewpoint that I think should be educated against, and fiction is a fantastic pathway to do this. Another example I can think of is a friend of mine who identifies as asexual but is sex-neutral rather than sex-repulsed. Most people can’t believe her when she says this, and she often faces backlash for this declaration as well. This is another thing that I think that, with exposure through a medium such as fiction, can be worked on.

What I’m trying to say here is that I think LGBTQ+ fiction can be a brilliantly educational platform—if used right. Although it already teaches so much with what it has, I think having that representation of different subgroups of sexuality, of their experiences and beliefs, so people can become aware and knowledgeable of these options, is something I’d like to see more of.

Q5: What or who are some of your biggest inspirations?

Oh man, I struggled to list off inspirations because I know I have some, but as soon as someone asks me who they are my brain just goes ‘brrrrrr’ LMAO.

In terms of the games that I write and the worlds that I build, I think David Lynch and Robert Chambers are probably the two that I somehow incorporate. Attollo and Metamorphosis both have a lot of surrealist horror, which are what these two really specialized in. Shirley Jackson is also another person who inspired me a lot when it came to the writing and creation of Attollo, especially the intrapersonal relationships between the characters.

In terms of life, this is something else I really struggle to answer. I don’t really have celebrity inspirations or anything like that, but I do get inspired by my close friends and sister a lot. Seeing them go through the struggles that they face and absolutely thrive really drives me to push through my own struggles. They’re the strongest, most brilliant group of people that I know, and I consider myself incredibly fortunate that I can be a part of their lives. Not only that, but we also all collectively encourage each other to push further and to chase our dreams (as cheesy as that is LMAO) and that’s something that I think is another stroke of good fortune. I struck gold when I met them, and they’re some of the biggest inspirations in my life.

Q6: What’s a super vague spoiler for your current project?

For Attollo, I’d say ‘Home is where the heart is.’ For Metamorphosis, to quote John Berendt, ‘Always stick around for one more drink.’

Q7: Lastly, what advice would you give to your readers?

What advice would I give to you all? Oh my, I’m not exactly a wise woman here, but I’ll do my best to give you something lmaooo. I think what I really want you to walk away with, from both my stories and this interview, is that if you’re passionate about something, then share it with the world. Don’t let anyone deter your passion.

I remember listening to this painter once who commented to his friend how he ‘really liked painting’, and his friend’s first response was ‘but are you good at it?’. He then compared this to the scenario of walking; would you say, ‘but are you good at it?’ to someone who said, ‘I really like walking’? No, because it simply wouldn’t make sense, and it doesn’t make sense to say that to anyone who’s doing something out of passion.

To put it simply—if you love something, then don’t let anyone take that passion from you. I began writing these stories because I’m passionate about Attollo and Metamorphosis; I love each character, each bit of lore, and I share it with you because I want you all to enjoy it as well. Am I the best writer? God, no. Does everyone like what I write? Definitely not. But will I let this stop me from writing, from enjoying what I’m doing? Never, and I want you to do the same.

Explore your passions, embrace your passions, and let what makes you happy continue to do so

[liyuesbian]

✧ pygmalion!au [ningguang]

notes: btw idk how commissions from museums work i just made the process up LMAO and this one's kinda angsty? i mean, it is the pygmalion greek myth so iykyk. also, i describe this figurine of ningguang here but w/o the colour... i've linked it in case any1 needs the reference. (btw, this is not set in ancient greece specifically)

only yesterday had you been commissioned by an art gallery in the capital to create a piece for their up-and-coming collection titled desire, love and identity. yet here you are, slaving away to make the perfect image you had in your head come into fruition. your vision is exquisite once sketched on paper—you can't find any faults in it so you take the risk.

as soon as your chisel meets the marble, a feeling so invigorating dominates your body. no further references are necessary as you place your trust entirely on your hands, coarse from the labour. you find such mindless toil addicting and you work day and night, only stopping for a half-baked meal and the odd collapse into bed.

for months, love streams out of the tips of your fingers and through your sculpting tools to arrive at the stone figure. you sincerely hope the intimate emotion has been reached.

when you finish, you wipe the bead of sweat running down your forehead, rest the other palm on your hip and take slow steps backwards all while maintaining eye contact with the statue. a wave of sweet relief hits you and you fall to the floor, uncontrollably sobbing into tired hands that still grip the hammer and chisel.

it's beautiful.

you stagger, struggling to get up with your bruised knees while clumsily wiping the tears off your stained cheeks. setting the instruments aside, you lift your head to admire your handiwork up close. a woman made of stone sits elegantly atop an oriental chair, crossing her smooth, white legs over each other. her left elbow is propped on the arm of the chair while on the other side, a long smoking pipe is balanced between gloved fingers. around her lies an assortment of objects: a vase containing scrolls, a floor lamp, and a charmingly decorated folding screen.

you see, you had already thought it all out. you'd imagined ningguang's preferences for a life of luxury, her affinity for constructing and sprucing up interiors. she would be a master of the trades and a woman who likes to keep an air of mystery around her. and like how you increasingly project her to be more of a person than she ever will be, there is a creeping concern in the corner of your mind that you will lose your rationality just as quickly.

the sculpture's body is clad in a qipao with a slit that reveals alabaster skin below the waist. the dress—embellished with patterns and neat linings—hugs her figure and shows off a lean build. the extensive train and sleeves of the fabric are shaped curvaceously to mirror the flow of a waterfall. and her face. the section you strived so hard to refine. she stares at you with an imperious expression and a hint of a smirk. her gaze, so piercing, makes you avert your eyes in shyness but you find yourself gravitating back to her profile.

you muster up the courage to draw closer to your creation and unconsciously stroke her cheek with your thumb, captivated. if she were an empress, you'd be a common peasant—undeserving of setting your sights on such a goddess. you can feel your soul being sucked into eyes devoid of emotion—of anything, actually. after all, the woman sitting before you is not a person but an inanimate object.

the weeks following the completion of ningguang—which is the name you've picked up the habit of calling her—are spent in said lady's company. every minute of every day, you surround yourself with her presence as if she is your closest friend. you eat with her, tell her your troubles, even going so far as to decorate her with various types of jewellery and bringing her gifts you think she'd like.

"thank you," you whisper. "for always listening to me." in truth, you're always so immersed in your work that you forgot what conversations could feel like. though, you fear your art would never be on par with something so transcendent ever again.

you become curious, wondering what she would be like if the nymph in front of you were not just a figment of your imagination.

you perch yourself on top of ningguang's stone-cold lap and trace the contours of her visage. you inspect each crease on her lips and the minuscule crinkles in her eyes, applauding yourself for the well-crafted details. you don't know what possesses you but you close your eyes and press your lips against hers, hoping that once you open them, a living being would erupt from underneath the marble. but, of course, as soon as the light hits your retinas, ningguang is as unmoving as ever.

realising what you've just done, you drop off of her thighs and laugh anxiously. however, you could've sworn that you had felt warmth in the lips of your beloved muse.

"i've finally gone mad!" you cry aloud.

hell, you say to yourself, is it even possible to fall in love with such an... an artefact? you dismiss your glaringly obvious infatuation.

"nonsense," you mutter under your breath, sensing your heart breaking slightly. how can something so painfully humanlike also not be human at the same time? you must've caused a tremendous atrocity in your past life to have made the gods harbour a grudge against you. of all things, you'd never have guessed that a lifeless piece of art would be the object of your desire.

you can't bear to look at the handcrafted lady any longer and with an anguished face, cover her with a large cotton cloth. the plan was to wait until you could hand the statue over to the curators and try to ignore its existence until then.

for a few days, you act according to the plan, going about your daily routine but eventually, your stoic demeanour crumbles. you lock yourself in your room refusing to eat or believe that your affection would never be returned.

during the hours of sunlight, you weep under your sheets, drowning in self-inflicted sorrow. and at night, you do the same, lamenting over the loss of what could've been your true love. she would've been so perfect in your eyes, your other half, and the only one who could calm this growing turmoil!

the reality pains you. hence, you do the only thing you can do: you pray. you pray to the gods for a miracle, that the light of your life would stride into your room and pull you from the depths of despair... but she never does.

your last day "cohabitating" with the sculpture has arrived and for the first time in—what felt like—an eternity, you open the doors to your workshop. taking a deep breath, you unveil the stationary maiden.

it's still as beautiful as you remember.

you give it a sad smile, wanting to get its departure over and done with. you manoeuvre about the room to prepare the things for the movers who're due to come in a couple of hours. while you go down your little list of errands to be done, you cough and bat away the smoke—wait, the smoke? frantic, you spin around, eyes darting everywhere in search of its origin until they land on the smoking pipe you so intricately moulded for the commissioned piece.

it's strange, you don't recall colouring the statue. and how on earth is smoke coming out of the pipe? suspicious, you approach the motionless entity and almost stumble when you spot its chest rising.

oh lord! — i really must be descending into madness! you clutch your head, clawing at your hair in hysteria.

"stop, please don't hurt yourself." the sound of a low, worried voice penetrates your ears. you shut your eyes tight.

"no, the gods have cursed me! i mustn't listen to your poisonous words!" you exclaim. your state of agitation is alleviated when the woman caresses your tensed arm.

"what has happened to you? i haven't seen you lately either." the tone is more soft and more tender than you had imagined. you release your grip.

"is it really you, ningguang?" your voice cracks at the end, and the woman you sought after witnesses your features twist into an expression of longing and hope.

"yes, my darling. i dare not go anywhere else."

helplessly, you rush to cup her face to check for heat, for the blood traversing under her skin—anything that would prove that your sweetheart is truly alive and breathing. and when you do get the confirmation, you beam, trying to withhold tears born from elation.

you bend down to kiss ningguang, who is still seated on the chair, once, twice, and three times to rid your scepticism. oh, deities! she's real.

"i love you," you declare.

"i know." you watch as the same creases you'd etched on the corners of her eyes spread into a loving half-moon shape and you kiss her again.

you reach a conclusion: you couldn't give away your lover—let alone a live person—to be displayed as part of a museum exhibition so when the workers arrive, you hide your muse away in another room. you apologise profusely and spin a lie, rambling on about how you had nothing to relinquish for the piece you had prepared had been oh-so-viciously stolen by a mob of trespassers!

the movers share with you their sympathies and ask what the work of art looks like and maybe they could sort something out with the authorities. nodding, you recount—so ardently—the details of your divine maiden. you feel heat rush to your face, chuckling when you realise that you'd run your mouth for too long.

in response to this, the two labourers exchange dubious looks as they peer at the static sculpture standing in the middle of the studio—its appearance unmistakably matching your elaborate description.

[saemi-the-writer]

Miraculous Team - Costumes and power change (part 1)

It was mentioned in some previous posts, but I’m going to expand a bit more here.  The 5 minutes limit only happens at the very beginning and the holder of any miraculous can unlock more powers as they keep on practicing and bonding with their kwami. You can think of it like any sport or activity: you need to warm up and learn the basics before you can go for harder and more complex moves/trials. When the holder use an especially powerful move or their most powerful one, the human is likely not ready yet to carry on, either physically, emotionally or anything; the magic might hurt them if they push themselves too hard so the kwamis alert them with a sound that they can’t keep the transformation any longer. It is to keep the user safe first and foremost. Later on, the alert happens but only if the holder is exhausting both themself and the kwami, or if they are really too badly hurt; while the kwami takes most of the damages, the kwamis still have their limits and weakpoints too and might need a break.

In Miraculous Team, the Miraculouses holders have more than one power (or attack/defense), the heroes unlock more as they improve, thanks to the grimmoire, other artifacts and using power combination with one - or several - of their partners.

Let’s start with the 2 more powerful Miraculouses and our main couple/duo:

Ladybug and Chat Noir

Ladybug

Going to disgress a bit, but here’s why Marinette picked the name “Ladybug” for her heroine persona: she wished for a simple name, something that wouldn’t give her away since keeping her identity secret is very important. So using Chinese was out of the question, she didn’t want to give any clue to the ennemy nor endanger any other Chinese-origin civilian. After some researches, she settled on “Ladybug” because it was short, simple, sounded nice and reminded her of a cute poem Ms Bustier read to her class in her first year in middle-school “Coccinelle, Demoiselle”. Tikki found Marinette so endearing and appreciated that the latter took her duty so seriously, she sore she’d do everything she could for her new holder. After 200 years of “sleep” and so many holders who had to become adults way too soon, Tikki was ready for it.

For the Ladybug powers, since it’s the Miraculous of creation & luck, her powers are more similar to her conceptual ones where she can create anything with the help of her compact/Yo-yo. As time passes and the more powerful Ladybug becomes, the more complex and powerful her creations become. Power that will be more than useful when Marinette will try her hand in crafting artifacts, then new Miraculouses.

The “Lucky Charm” can sometimes be some random object that Ladybug use to achieve victory thanks to her creativity and ingeniosity, a clue or - as the name itself says it - a real lucky charm she can give anyone she wants to that will help. Either “Lucky Charm” or “Stroke of Luck”, in which Ladybug can do anyting for a short time and luck will always be on her side; or she offers that luck to one of her ally, brings good fortune to the people she wants to help and protect around. Power that will also leak out even as her civilian self, something Marinette will realize in “Forain” (”Showman”). You can think of it as a bit similar to the potion “Felix Felicis” in Harry Potter for example.

Costume: inspired by this concept art;  instead of a whole onesie/suit, MT Ladybug wears a red, black-spotted gym leotard, 3/4 sleeves and a very small “cape” that looks like ladybug wings. Black leggings and long gloves with one single red spot and red shoes. Pigtails with the red ribbons like canon. However, only Ladybug have blue-eyes and blue highlights in her hair; MT Marinette’s eyes are greenish brown (like her Dad’s, but a darker shade) and her hair is jet black, it’s part of the glamour Tikki spreads on her when she transforms.

Chat Noir

About the name: Adrien was SO ready for this, he had a whole 3 feet long list of names (puns, name derived from his favourite comics/anime/shows, etc.). However, MT Plagg wasn’t as mischevious as his canon counterpart at first: he had been used and abused for longer than a century, so he was litterally acting like an abuse survivor cat. Even if Adrien was chosen by the Guardian, Plagg was bitter, he wished he had spent more time with Tikki or that he could have rested longer. Adrien, wishing to gain his trust, tried to ask his opinion but Plagg was still wary. Adrien ended up picking “Chat Noir” to prove his kwami that he would never impose him anything, that he was “back to his roots” so: Black Cat miraculous = Black Cat, as simple as that. Plagg kinda appreciated that and Adrien’s efforts to be nice to him.

Like Ladybug’s powers, I took a lot of inspiration from the concept art. Cataclysm is still his most powerful move, but it’s quite hard to control at first (either too powerful or if CN doesn’t touch what he aimed for, it’s still destroyed). Then, comes “Black Storm”, which is kinda like a Kamehameha (c’mon, Adrien is quite nerdy, OF COURSE he would use his power like that!!) Miss Tigri used a similar move that she called “Black Hail”, but unlike her, Chat Noir only use it when necessary or against a foe that won’t be harmed too much by it. He’ll be more creative and comes up with the “Black Hole” and “Chat crame” (pun with “Chakram” and “it burns”) later.

Eventually, “Jinx” and “get jinxed” ; which are the opposite of Ladybug’s “Lucky Charm” and “Stroke of Luck”. Like the superstition, Chat Noir’s presence will get his foe (or anyone who wants to harm him, his team mates or family/friends) unlucky. Similar to LB, Adrien will unwillingly become a jinx to some people around (don’t worry, these people will deserve the misfortune!) which sometimes will lead to strange and/or comical outcomes and situations.

Costume: MT Chat Noir’s costume is mostly unchanged, though his claws are longer and there are cat pads visible underneath his boots and in his palms. The most visible change are Adrien’s hair: wilder and full of black strands (a bit like this).

[caker-baker]

ahh I loved 'If there was a crown' If you have time would you please consider writing a continuation? because it was amazinggg

The hero hated princes. Princes were annoying, vain, arrogant, and so very cocky, according to the hero.

The prince, on the other hand, didn’t so much mind bakers. Bakers were fun, scare-able.

At first, the prince was everso delighted when learning of the hero’s identity, his plot being decided in all of two minutes.

Then the baker-hero was there, and they were so different than the prince imagined. He always thought they would be strong, with or without the costume, but this baker was barely quelling their nerves.

And to hear them call the prince by his title gave him relief to no end. But it felt oddly wrong.

To see the fear dawn on the baker’s face - fear the prince had never seen in their fights - it was all too perfect, and all too short lived.

Next was the taunting, something the hero had always been able to participate in, and with the repartee being one sided, the prince was filled with glee.

Until he wasn’t

He was frustrated, he thought he would be happy. As a prince, he could have anything except the hero, and now that he had them, it wasn’t enough. He wanted more, still.

The prince noticed the hero’s harsh concentration whenever he neared, their head working on ways to escape.

He was a diplomat, the prince. He was taking over the kingdom, he was raised to know what people were thinking.

“Pesky little hero, it’s no use.”

“What?” The hero snapped, still mid thought.

In response, the prince smiled, and tilted his head to the side. “Would it be fair to assume you have never been in such a situation?”

“Take your best guess, my prince.” The hero’s tone was anything but formal, but that didn’t stop the delighted feeling flowing throughout the prince.

“Such malice, baker.” His words were equally as venomous. “For someone in such a bind, I would think one to be kinder.”

“I would think I still have my dignity.”

“And shaking hands.”

The hero fell silent.

Sly eyes found their way to the crown in the corner of the cell. While it was hard to break, the hero certainly did try, the crown now dirtied and somehow slightly dented.

The prince didn’t know they had that sort of strength.

“I did mainly come to drop this off.” A tray of food rattled on the lone desk. “But it seems you are in dire need of company, what, with taking out your solitude on my most prized possession.”

“You shouldn’t give nice things to pesky heroes.” The hero bit back, the chains on their wrist becoming uncomfortably heavy.

“I told you, I would make an exception for you.”

Silence reigned for a brief moment.

“I could strangle you.” The hero said, voice soft and hands trembling. “If you just got close enough, these chains are more than enough, I could-”

“Then do it.” The prince stepped closer. “I won’t try to stop you. I will even assist you.” He turned around, back towards the hero. “I’m close enough, unsuspecting, a prime opportunity if any.”

Nothing happened. The hero didn’t move, the prince didn’t move, and the world came to a standstill.

“Or,” the prince spoke, still turned around. “Is this not how you would like me? Would you prefer I go to war for you? Some neighboring territories would be rather easy to take, if only in your name.”

The hero actually stepped back. “What is this?”

“Compliance. I’m being a kindly host.”

“A host?” The hero repeated. “This is a game to you?” Their face had twisted into a snarl, but no move was made against the villain. “Tormenting one while killing others?”

The prince whipped around. “What makes you think I’m practicing villainy again?”

“There was never a choice, was there?” A stark laugh came from the hero. “That’s why you’re the only one down here, isn’t it? Everyone else thinks I’m long gone. Besides, are your plans for the kingdom finished?”

Oh, this amused the prince greatly.

“Clever and pesky.” He muttered. “An awful combination.”

Despite their nerves, the hero managed to stare the prince in the eye.

“Won’t your guard be suspicious?” The hero asked. “The king?”

Pure anger flashed on the prince’s face. “That man is of no-” he remembered himself, the anger dissolving before a neutral expression took hold. “You should eat. I’ll know if you don’t.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I hope you don’t value that bakery all too much.”

When the prince had gone, the hero let themselves come undone, trembling in a pile of fear.

No other threats were made past that one fateful day, on either end.

It became a routine, of sorts. The hero would try to find a way out, and the prince would sit back, amused.

Once, the prince stormed in, wrinkled papers clutched in hand.

“I’m working in here.” He announced, making use of the desk oh so generously supplied to the hero.

The hero had to wonder if that was the purpose of it, more for the prince than them.

“I thought you had no power.” The hero mumbled folding something from ripped book pages.

“I still have responsibilities, something I suppose doesn’t affect you anymore.”

The hero nearly crushed their paper creation. “My responsibilities were ripped away from me if you deign to remember!”

The prince waved them off, scribbling something with their other hand.

There was no way of knowing how much time had passed for the hero, it was only when the prince sighed and leaned back did they realize time had passed at all.

“What are you making?”

“A child’s toy. Most every child in the kingdom can paper-fold.” The hero snorted. “Probably not royal ones.”

The prince stood tall over the hero, eyes landing on the expert foldings. “A paper crown. How ironic when a real one stays in the corner.”

“How ironic you keep coming here.” The hero set the paper crown aside, their hands clutched together.

They were refusing to look at the prince.

“Pesky little hero, your silence is suffocating.”

“What were you working on?” The hero said, still not looking at the prince, though they could see him in their side view.

“Are you truly interested?” The prince asked. “Or is this you trying to find information to use against me?”

“What does it matter to you? Any information I get will rot away with me. It’s ‘no use’, isn’t it?”

Clever and pesky indeed.

“If you must know, you pesky thing, I’ve been trying to worm my way out of a potential marriage.”

The hero’s head snapped up, only to find the prince already looking at them, smiling widely. “There you are. A possible wedding is what it takes for you to look at me?”

“So you won’t be getting married?” They made to look down again, but the prince snaked out a hand, grabbing the hero’s chin.

“You would make a pretty royal.” He said appreciatively, turning the hero’s head with his hand. “Especially done up for a royal portrait.”

“So you’ve said.” The hero tried to yank away, but the prince held fast.

“We,” he began, “are created to be perfect. I was created to be perfect. There’s something so fascinating with everyday people still being beautiful.”

The hero’s lip curled. “My appearances are not for you to marvel at!”

“My, my.” The prince dropped his hand. “Where do these little bursts of defiance come from? It feels as if I am truly talking to Hero, and not some baker. By the by, what do you call a baker without a bakery?”

“Go to hell.”

“At some point.”

The hero suddenly regretted their words, their bakery floating to the top of their mind.

“That’s not a concentrating face.”

They hated him, for being a prince, for figuring out their identity, for having power, even if he didn’t realize it. But most of all, they hated he could hold their bakery over their head.

“And that’s resolve. What, I wonder, is going through your head?”

The hero’s eyes dropped, their hands reaching to tear more book pages, and at this, the prince sighed.

“Fine then, I’ll leave you to your folding.”

“What do you care?” The hero asked, already making a crease in the words. “Are you just having your fun before you decide to kill me?”

“No.” The prince spoke quickly. “No. I am having fun, but you will not be dying. Not here. Not by my hand.”

“Then it is just simple then.”

“What is?”

The hero looked up. “You are a cruel bastard.”

There was no response, just a long and cold stare, then once again, the hero was alone. They were alone, and now had a plan.

The prince had mentioned it earlier, but the hero didn’t believe him, they thought he was still going to kill them. However, the quick desperation of his tone made the hero rethink otherwise.

The prince didn’t want them dead, did he? What were the chances of getting out if the prince thought they were close to death?

This was a flimsy plan, especially in that there was no telling when it would happen. The hero would have to make it look like something had happened, but the prince would have to be there to witness it.

So, the hero had to listen, and carefully.

Any sign of steps, and they would move. First, to the bed, where they would grab the blankets and pull them down, trying to make it look as if they had clutched onto something before falling.

Next was the positioning. The hero wasn’t sure about this, the chains being a bit inhibiting, but hopefully, if this all went as planned, the chains would be coming off.

Finally came the hard part, acting. They had never needed to pretend to be passed out, they had never had to force themself to be calm like this. It was already difficult for them to even their breathing while in a state of nerves, but to play at vulnerability while making their lungs steady was difficult to say the least.

So, it all came down to keeping their nerve, and timing. It would work fine, they were sure of it, despite how hard their heart was hammering in their chest. This had to work fine.

Listening was difficult, singling out one specific sound among dozens of others, especially to the untrained ear. Once or twice, the hero had prepared, positioning themselves with the blankets in hand, only to realize it was an echo of a sound.

Knowing what time it was would make it easier, the prince delivering meals himself at a specific time was otherwise useless information.

They couldn’t be sure how long they listened, only that they were suddenly on the floor, the sound of regal boots getting closer.

The creaking door opened, and the hero had to stop themselves from shaking. They had to do this right, it had to work.

The prince cursed, something dropping onto the ground.

Then there was the sudden closeness, the prince mere inches from the hero’s face, who could feel their muscles tensing.

Two fingers were on the hero’s neck, who almost cried having to keep still while the prince checked their pulse.

A rattling sound, then the weight on the hero’s wrists dropped. They had to stop themselves from flinching away, from running right then and there. They had to make themselves be dead weight when strong hands lifted them.

Breathe even.

Dead weight.

Don’t let your eyelids move.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

The steps the prince took were large, frantic. He was in a hurry to wherever he planned on taking the hero now.

And once the hero was sure, absolutely positive they were at least past the bars of the cell, at least far away from the manacles, and at least in an open space, they struck.

A fist flew to the prince’s jaw, his hold on the hero weakening. They hero leapt from his arms, rolling back onto their feet.

“And there’s that acrobatic hero I know and love.” The prince chuckled, rubbing his bruising face.

There was no time for the hero to play into what was surely his attempt at stalling. They could either incapacitate him now, or run and hope to find the quickest way out.

A prince knocked out in his own home might raise questions the hero couldn’t afford to answer.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid to fight?” The prince baited.

It almost worked. Almost.

The hero, fists clenched, turned and ran. Maybe this wasn’t the brightest of plans, but none of the options were the best.

“I happened to have grown up in this place.” The prince said, leaning against a corridor wall the hero had just turned onto.

They immediately turned around again.

“Pesky hero.” They heard the prince tut, footsteps once again fading away.

A door, it was all they needed, a window is what they got.

They didn’t hesitate, smashing their elbow against the glass, cracks beginning to form. This was done again and again, until the window had shattered completely.

The hero peered down, looking at the two story height.

Considering the prince had taken them from seemingly below ground to upper levels of the palace, the height made sense.

And the height worked. The hero had done much more from much higher places. This would be easy, it might still hurt, but it would work.

The hero stepped up, their back facing outside, a slowly setting sun bathing them in light.

“Hero.” A voice said, cold and commanding. It was a voice future kings should learn.

“Your highness.”

“You don’t know what you would happen if you made a reappearance as Hero. You don’t know what would happen if you left.” The prince took a step forward, fully aware of the hero watching him. “As it turns out, I’m not the only royal who dislikes heroes.”

“Is that all?”

The prince cautioned two more steps. “I don’t think you quite realize what I have afforded you.”

After prince’s taunts, his fun, it felt good to see his discomfort, even if vengefulness wasn’t the hero’s style.

“I’m sure I don’t.”

Three more steps. “And I don’t know what stunt you are trying to pull here, but-”

“Not a stunt.” The hero interrupted. “I’m just leaving.”

It had gone right, this plan, and it felt fantastic, they felt calm for the first time in a while. They felt a lot that they hadn’t felt in a while.

“I think we could discuss this civilly, don’t you?” One more step, and he was in arms length of the hero.

“I think you’re wrong.”

The prince lunged, but the hero was quick enough, pushing him back as momentum for the fall.

If he wasn’t aware of the hero’s skilled ability in any and all things acrobatic, he would’ve been worried for their safety, but instead, he had a million other things to worry about, namely, how to get them back without making a fuss.

The prince chanced a glance out the broken window, but the hero had already faded away, disappearing with the prince’s dignity.

The worst and most daunting of it all was that the hero had managed to snag the prince’s brooch on their way down.