#so its pretty easy to dislike at first glance

[syluses]

HEART WANTS WHAT IT WANTS

𓍯𓂃 PART TWO (2) of the stepdad! sylus x reader series

(2) THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND

𓍯𓂃 CONTENT: stepdad! sylus therefore step/pseudocest, eventual smut, nsfw, dubcon, slowburn, yandere undertones, all characters are 18+ (mc is presently 23; sylus is in early forties), possessive & yandere behaviors, age difference, daddy kink, unreliable narrator, drinking, non-evol au, modern au, lowkey enemies to lovers, lots of (sexual) tension, loss of virginity, emotional breakdowns, some angst, some fluff, a lil bit of everything; tags will be added as story progresses— but know the story is relatively triggering

𓍯𓂃 SIDENOTE: ayyy finally got chapter 2 out ✨ apologies for the wait!! but i hope u enjoy this one my friends :] 💕 also sorry for any typos PLEASE overlook them i beg :,) i hate the edit/revise process it took SO long but i hope my sleep-addled brain did me decent as i went thru to correct stuff. oh also i made a teeny mistake in part one, but i fixed it and its very inconsequential (used wrong number: 6 changed to 7). but anyway just letting u know if ur very observant & noticed a difference lol!! [art credit: @/chimmyming on twitter/X]

It’s hard to be secretive, tiptoeing down the hallway toward the stairs, when halfway through it opens up into the living room’s overhang.

If someone were sitting on the couch, and they heard so much as a creak from above, all it’d take is a glance thrown over their shoulder to spot you with a hand hesitantly placed on the banister, leery of stepping down to the first floor.

Nervewracking.

Perhaps it’s a bit dramatic to compare it to walking into the lion’s den- but you’re not the most talkative of persons, especially not with him, and it does seem daunting in your head to be cornered into conversation. Like prey meeting predator. Small meeting big. One delicate discussion could do you in, but you won’t bet on your demise being brought along so… easily.

To your immense relief, when you you peek around the stone column and survey the area below (mainly the L-shaped sofa, facing the massive wall-mounted TV above the fireplace), you find it empty.

At that, you let out a quiet breath. Some of your courage returns.

If you had spotted the twins, it would’ve been manageable, more so than if it was their dad, anyway.

It was only an hour ago (well, an hour and ten minutes, but you hope they won’t hold that against you— and considering all their tardy slips in highschool, they wouldn’t have the right) that you’d held conversation with them, and it went alright.

It’s a bit harder for you to admit that it was actually pretty nice to see them again.

Cathartic, even.

There’s a part of you that’s vulnerable and girlish- carefully stowed beneath the tough skin you lay on in front of most of everyone else- locked somewhere safe- and yes, it did miss them.

But you’re meant to dislike the three of them. Your meddling stepfamily who slipped into the cracks of your home, your mother’s heart, no different than an invasive species would. Stuck a foot into the door of your life and pressed until the hinge gave.

Once, it was easy. As effortless as breathing.

You didn’t have to think about it, or deliberate on it, or make all the justifications in your head- no, you hated them and that was it.

That feeling was meant to be final. Set in stone.

You thought it was.

For a time you even likened Sylus to Cinderella’s evil stepmother and his two conniving sons to the insufferable stepsisters. Oh, it’s childish, you know; looking back on those moments, you don’t know whether you want to hug the teenage girl you’d been or laugh in the face of her.

As it stands, though, Anastasia and Drizella aren’t half the monsters you’d once liked to believe. Awfully enough, you’ve warmed up to them, maybe even came to love them.

You’re stubborn, not stupid: Luke and Kieran have a special place in your heart and you recognize that.

You’re sure that they do, too. It’s what makes them bolder during every confrontation; brings out the smiles where they once paled. Scared you’d yell or shriek for your mom to just—

Get these two idiots out of my room!

That was then, though.

Things are different now. Changed.

…The ‘Lady Tremaine’ in this picture is still a work in progress. If you’re being honest, you wouldn’t be too terribly upset if it stayed that way—

No. But no, because…

Your mother would’ve been happy if you got along with him. Made amends. It’s a truth as sour as it is undebatable.

“Baby, please- he’s a good man, really. Can you just try, for me? I know you miss your dad, I know you do, I do, too-“

‘Does she?’ To save your hide, you bite that remark down, but listen on just as grumpily.

“-but I think that this can be a good thing if you just-“

Her words echo in the walls of your head. Plangent, bouncing. Like a gunshot ringing out through a canyon, it’s still loud in your conscience, even more so now that she won’t be around to nag you on the matter any further.

—“Smiled.”

If you don’t like Sylus, you’re the bad guy, right? And damn it all if that doesn’t dredge up an ounce of bitterness in you, but—

…For the sake of this trip, for the sake of her no longer being here (and oh, what you wouldn’t give so she could be here), you’ll do your best to swallow down your misgivings about your stepfather.

And you’ll be good.

Two weeks.

Reminding yourself of that for what must be the millionth time, you push off the truffle-wrap pillar to continue into the lofty hall. Starting down the wide, marble staircase in silence.

You’re not so sure where their father is. You definitely have your guesses— A fancy-shmancy meeting or outing that’s called him outside of the estate, or perhaps he’s simply in his study working, running an errand— All of which you hope are correct for the sake of avoiding him.

This late lunch of yours and the twins’ should be just that.

Yours and the twins’.

✦

The further you press into the first floor, the more you smell whatever the private chef is cooking.

Delicious, whatever it is. And no surprise there- the man who hired him demands only the best of the best. He’ll brook nothing less.

As you get closer, the aromas (some too faint to label, others almost dominating your senses: garlic, a pinch of ginger, the mouthwatering scent of meat) blend into a savory potpourri. A cohesive, expertly-made dish, you’re sure.

It’s true that in the past five years since your moving out that your visits have become more sporadic, far and few in between, but meals gathered around a tabletop brimming with tasty sides and entrées will always be a distinct memory you hold of this place.

I mean, you were all but forced by your mother to endure them. Thus, dinner became a special time for you and your stepfamily to bond.

Even Sylus, the endlessly busy CEO of some lucrative company you pretend not to know the name of, made room within his schedule where he could.

However, bonding is not what generally happened.

Teenage you always thought those dinners were stupid. Awkward at the best of times. Smiles too tight to be polite, hands passing around bowls you’d stick your nose up to. Not out of disgust, no, the platters never failed to make you drool- but because you’d take your dad’s homemade roast chicken over your stepfather’s insincere, gourmet trays any day of the week.

To be honest? you’d been mean to them, you’ll admit that much. Cruel even. A big brat with an even bigger bone to pick. You and your family didn’t come from rags, but your origins were infinitely more humble than the twin’s, than what Sylus had— yet you were prissy and rude in a way that they somehow weren’t... Presumptuous.

So upset with the new arrangement you couldn’t think straight.

“Y/n, pick up the fork for God’s sake- can’t you see your father went through all this just to have a meal with us tonight?”

Placatingly, “Honey. It’s alright.”

It’s not quite a snarl that you throw her way, but it’s close. With no one here to spank you, you’re allowed to mouth off a little, be unruly. No one’s here to stop you— your mother’s never had the arm for the paddle and regardless of that, she clearly shouldn’t be responsible over you if she can’t even make good decisions for herself.

To date, her worst decision yet is bringing that asshole around…

Pointedly ignoring the attention that’s gravitated to you, you scowl.

Maybe you are pushing the part of brat a touch too far- a shock, taking your past obedience into play- but how else will you get her to see you? Your hurt? I mean, the twins misbehave endlessly at school and at best, they get a slap on the wrist, no doubt because of their mogul of a father, but you don’t miss the laughs or rueful glances tossed their way.

The positive feedback.

“…Father?” You snip, eyes laser-focused on the woman at the far end of the table. The twins juggle between watching you and their dad with bated breath, half grinning in mischievous delight.

For several moments, the latter doesn’t move.

Sure enough, though, that cardinal gaze finds its roost on you. Not that you’re paying it any mind.

The air shifts when you open your mouth again, rising from the table with a start. The finely-placed cutlery jumps as you do.

“I don’t care if you’ve married him, made him your ‘quote on quote’ husband, that’s not my father and never will be. And these stupid boys that trail me all damn day long aren’t my family, either!”

“Whoa-ho! We caught a stray, bro!”

A beat of stunned silence.

Galileo crosses your mind; mainly what he did when the spotlight fell to him. The point is that there’s still time to recant, the rational part of your brain whispers. To backtrack.

Your cheeks warm. Heart pounding in your chest at the embarrassment of voicing your emotions, making a literal stand. But you can’t stop now. It’s too late to.

“A-And…” A tremble. You’re- You’re trembling, comes the small revelation. Ignoring it, you barely repress a wince, standing there uncertainly.

Finally, your mother- finding her bearings- angrily sputters out your government name.

You almost cow to it.

But you can’t be weak, not now, not in front of them, and-

In a frantic moment, your eyes dart over opposite the table to collide with his, your voice shaking wildly as the twins, at either side of you, snicker.

You swallow down the dregs of your self-consciousness to uncivilly pick up your fork and wave it at him.

“And you! Don’t even get me started on how awful you are! What you’ve done to me!”

All along you’ve done your damnedest to ignore him, only adding in your two cents where it was absolutely necessary. The last month or two you’ve spent under the same roof as him has been nothing less than an excellent demonstration of the cold shoulder on your part. You want the credit for that.

So when you point a literal finger, staring him down like you would prey through a muzzle and furrow your brow as unbidden tears wet your lash-line, his eyes actually double in size. Your stepfather, having forgotten to breathe by the looks of it (albeit, you have too), straightens by a fraction.

Good. That’s...

That’s good, you think.

Something in the back of your mind says ‘heel,’ says ‘don’t poke the bear,’ warns in every possible language you can think of that this is NOT a good idea. He’s rich enough to fill whole swimming pools with cash and powerful enough to move people like chess pieces— probably nudge them out of the game and off the board, too.

But he’ll never be the man of your house. You won’t allow it. So call it sheer stupidity on your end or just a death wish but—

“Y-You’ve stolen everything from me!”

On your right, Luke blinks with hesitant awe, his amusement petering out. Kieran’s jaw shuts. The foot he’d been kicking you with under the table draws away from yours. He exchanges a brief, suddenly sobered look with his brother as everything you’ve been holding back on these past several weeks looses to the surface.

“Y/n-!”

“You took it all! My mother, my dad’s honor, even my fucking house-!”

For the second time, your government name flies across the panel of demurred faces, but you’ve reached your melting point. The watershed where fear and politeness, all the conventional little things you’re supposed to respect and operate by, warps into hot unbridled anger.

This is a cut that originated from your father’s death, one exacerbated awfully by Sylus and his two sly, obnoxious sons- so you think it’s due time to let it bleed.

Bleed, it does.

But then- “You ruined my life, you-“

A breath. Stuttering and shallow and tender. It’s horrifying to realize it came from you.

“Y-You….”

Through the blur is a low, gentle murmur.

Rich and thick. You think even if your ears ceased to work, something in your chest could still recognize it; the bass moves through your ribs and rattles them.

In your periphery, for as fogged as it’s become what with the tears that suddenly speckle the room- the ones you vaguely acknowledge but do all you can to hold, even if just for a few more moments- the silver-haired man sets down his utensil. Nonchalant per usual. With unrivaled class.

It pisses you off.

Without looking at your frazzled mother, he raises a hand to calm her. “Shh, it’s alright, it’s alright. Let her speak.”

Speak…?

Oh- Is that what he fucking thinks this is? That you’ve stood, clinking the side of your glass with a spoon to humbly direct the diners’ attention from the plates spread tastefully before them to you as you prepare a fancy speech of sorts-?

This isn’t an announcement you’re making. This is not even a conversation. It’s just-

It’s just-

The epiphany that every set of eyes is on you including the chef’s (still tucked in the kitchen, as poor as any man could be as he hurriedly cleans up)— and that you are being treated no different than a dangerous animal that needs patience and slow movement to be handled, corralled back into a fucking cage—

It’s so infuriating you go quiet.

Your brain reaches a lapse and you shut up. Lips flattening into a pursed line immediately, you ball your fists and scamper back off to where it’s safest.

Your room.

“Sis, wait, Kieran said he’s sorry for kicking you under the table-“

You’d ignored it all and then you’d cried.

“Kieran,” an unexpected growl. “A word.”

…You suppose time has a funny way of soothing, though, because right now when you recollect the moment, you find the humor in it and scoff quietly.

“Dad, wait, I-I was just kidding around with her!”

Yeah okay, it was a bit embarrassing- you were a bit embarrassing- but you won’t hold that against sixteen year old you. She knew fuck all else how to navigate.

The big house is familiar and airy as you walk through the lower floor, as quiet as you left it.

Even if you’d forgotten the layout, whatever fragrance wafting from the kitchen would be enough to guide you there.

You wonder if it’s some kind of stirfry. A far cry from the humble PB&J’s you’ve been making yourself at home with chips sometimes as a side, but your tummy growls for it all the same.

You haven’t ate since sometime yesterday. As your tongue wets itself in anticipation, you’re made very aware of that now.

You spot the rice cooker on the side counter when you finally walk in and the blurred figures of the twins as they turn to look at you.

Luke, perched on a bar stool to eagerly watch the chef work his magic, hops off just to pull out another one at its right. The look in his eye, glittering, full of anticipation, tells you verbatim to ‘sit right here’. You don’t bother protesting- you’re already some minutes late after all- and climb up onto the seat between them.

Kieran, at your left, scoots closer to sling his arm over your shoulder. You let it happen with a small wince. The chair supporting the other twin gives a short screech when he, too, inches closer to fold his arms on the counter, lean his head on them, and angle his cheek to look at you.

“So, sis, how do you like Linkon so far?”

Not paying them much attention, you quirk an eyebrow.

Between watching the chef as he deftly tosses the pan back and forth (broccoli, you see now, with meat cubes he folds in) and glancing at the archways connecting the rest of the house into the kitchen- eyes peeled for someone- the twins are not your priority right now.

At the top, that list looks something like this: Eat a nice midday meal without any incident involving their dad.

“I’ve lived in Linkon almost all my life, don’t act like this is my first time here,” you poke back, albeit in a somewhat hushed tone. The walls might as well have ears.

Kieran reaches out to run an idle finger down the jut of your shoulder, his chin lazily propped up by his hand.

He looks at you.

“Sis, do you even realize for how long you were gone?”

His voice is light. Conversational. You’re not so deluded, though, by their indifferent, laidback act. You’ve known them not for a decade but not far off from that either, and you’ve learned to catch the whiff of trouble in the air before it blows its wind your way.

When you finally throw them each a gander, hesitantly prying your gaze from the open entries, the delight masked behind each placid set of eyes is absolutely there— just hiding well.

They’re getting much more amusement out of this than they’re letting on.

You’ll give them credit here: they’ve gotten better at pretending they’re not up to no good,… but there’s no bamboozling you.

You think about it for a few seconds before quipping back. “Almost seven months,… right?”

“Right,” Luke chirps beside you, “Seven whole months!” You turn your head to focus on him now.

(Ah, that’s right- you inwardly alert yourself upon notice- no matter who you’re facing, the other will inevitably be in your blindspot… Have to keep on your toes these upcoming weeks if you don’t want them pulling a trick on you.)

He pouts his lips, ever dramatic, to play up the kicked expression and make it all the more impactful as they guilt trip you. “Seven whole months where Kieran and I were left alllllll on our lonesome. Left to fend for ourselves.”

“Oh, you big babies.” With a huff, half-smiling, you lean out to flick his forehead. His hood slips off when he tries to nod away from your attack, laughing softly as wild, red tufts come loose.

“You’re plenty old enough now to care for yourselves. You can’t always rely on me for everything. Besides,” you start, thoughtful, and this is when your already quiet voice slinks into a whisper, one the boys draw in to hear.

Luke’s attention drifting past your shoulder, “you already have the big boss man covering your asses in every sense of the word.”

From the archway, a sonorous voice rings out.

“She’s right, you know.”

You and Kieran snap your heads over to look. The chef (and you don’t why you’re suddenly staring at him, or the ground, for that matter, nervous) gives a little glance his way, dipping his chin respectfully, but doesn’t note him beyond that. A big grin blooms across the lower half of Luke’s face. You’d smack it off if you could.

Beside you, Kieran suddenly lets out a chuckle, both of the twins once more very interested in you- particularly the reaction you’re trying to hide- as you swallow and look away.

Under the broad arch, their stepfather adjusts his sleeves before casually propping himself against the wall, arms folded.

You risk a glance over and instantly regret it when you catch his eyes on yours, a brow quirked teasingly.

…Directed at the boys, you realize when he speaks again. Of course. “You two lean on your sister far too much, don’t you think? I’d say you’re lucky she’s been so patient with you both.”

A huff from one of them. But they’re so similar it might as well come from the other. “Hah, I have the patience of a saint, especially when it comes to her! Don’t forget, dad, how long it took for me to get her to even talk to me-“

Frowning, you open your mouth to argue against that, to defend your past-self’s choices (because she had every reason to ignore the obnoxious pair), but to your suprise Luke beats you to the punch.

“Bro, you have to admit,” he starts with a sheepish laugh, “we were kind of annoying kids… I mean, we were pretty much always trying to find a new way to bother her…”

Curtly, you close your mouth. That deep, rumbling voice sounds out again- light in tone- and your heart skips a beat.

“Honesty’s not a bad start... Kieran, you might benefit from taking notes from your brother.”

“Eh…”

From behind the island, tucked in front of the stove- you swear you hear the cuisiner chuckle.

The pan sizzles. Your mouth waters and you’re reminded of how hungry you are, but the longer the silver-haired man lingers in the entryway the more you’re afraid he’s there to stay.

It was supposed to be just the three of you eating together. Not- Not him. And yeah, sure, this is his house at the end of the day— you wouldn’t be you if you weren’t already painfully aware of that- a fact that’s more obvious than ever now that your only real tether to this place, your mother, is gone— but why did he have to show up now of all times?

As every gripe starts to form in your head-

Two weeks. And then, and then it’ll be over for the last time.

-you silence them.

A moment passes and Luke, still studying you with the ghost of a grin, asks what you all really want to know.

“So, dad, are you staying for lunch?”

A beat. You furtively glance up in time to watch him check his expensive wristwatch, his brow furrowed.

“Lunch, you say?” He chuckles, ruby-red eyes practically sparkling when he lifts his chin, one corner of his mouth curved- though you can tell he’s trying to mask it. “And I guess this is the early bird special?”

“Sleepyhead Y/n here rolled out of bed late.”

You huff, crossing your arms, distracting yourself with the busy chef. “And these two all but barged in while I was still busy unpacking.”

Like clockwork, much of the mirth in his expression wanes. He frowns expectantly, voice neither stern nor flat but something in between. “Boys. What did I tell you about not pestering our guest while she’s still here?”

Luke and Kieran snicker. You bite down on a grin.

“Yeah, boys,” you murmur to be annoying, just loud enough for them to hear. That’s the hope, at least.

Sylus’s little smirk returns with a vengeance. He refolds his arms, adjusting.

“…Anyway, though. I can’t stay. I have a meeting I need to sit in at the main office, unfortunately. I would’ve…” A raking of his eyes between the three of you, interested, and a brief pause, “Enjoyed that, though.”

He hums, saying more to himself now than to any of you, “another time.”

For a number of moments, the air seems oddly tense. A miasma of something unsaid hangs between the four of you, thickening the air between, and in the split second before someone breaks the silence, you’re struggling to pinpoint the root cause.

It’s just the ice from last night, you decide quietly, the bits of it that didn’t break. The friction left over.

You’re still settling in, after all.

…And yet when his gaze finds yours again, something not to be uttered in it as cherry hues zero in on you, his lashes fluttering ever so slightly—

The pulse in your chest trips and picks itself back up again.

You blink, looking down to his chest. When your stare sweeps up again to his face, almost hesitant to find what may be waiting there, he’s addressing the twins and it’s already gone.

“Well. I’m out, then. Boys: don’t drive your sister crazy. And… Kitten…”

Your brow pinches unwittingly. There, again, is that strange yet patient twinkle in his eye and it steals all the breath from your lungs in one fell swoop.

Either side of you, Luke and Kieran trade off between appearing uncertain and then appearing just as eager. Behind the steaming stove, even the chef, cottoning onto the shift in atmosphere, tosses the briefest of looks over his shoulder to assess the situation.

You nervously wet your lip. “Y-Yeah?”

Promptly, your stepfather’s countenance smooths out into an easy, pellucid smile. A whit challenging; a whit encouraging— but not at all reluctant, no, the mite of intimidation in his gaze is a simple result of your clouded thinking these past few days. Nothing more.

“Don’t pull your punches if they do.”

A swallow. “Alright.”

The twins, no different than conspiring, bothersome little rats, slap a hand over their mouths to hide a laugh, and then their dad is skimming between all three of you in your row at the counter. Albeit, his tone is too gentle for them—

“Call if you need something,” he suggests.

And then he’s gone.

A tumbleweed blows through. Kieran turns to you afterward, Luke’s hand idly dangling off your shoulder, the pair far too comfortable with taking up your space- but for now, obedient enough.

“Well, chef, how’s it looking?”

Lunch is served on a silver platter.

Swallowing down your reservations, your typical discomfort with their casual, sumptuous lifestyle, you fold to your hunger and dig in.

Kieran, ever the pest, laughs when you finish before them, shoveling a share of his saucy broccoli onto your plate. His grin is shit-eating, but you can appreciate the generosity laced under his teasing remark for what it is.

“Wow, someone’s hungry, huh? Bet you’re wishing you ate during your flight!”

✦

In the hours after, you trampoline between idling through the massive home, revisiting various memories you hold of each room and long corridor, and sitting down with a hand over your full belly. Thinking.

Maybe all the reflection isn’t for the better, though, as much as you try to keep optimistic by playing dumb to your circumstances.

You don’t blame the boys for being so energetic, even amidst the doom and gloom that’s reared its head in just the past few days— it’s a lot to handle, everything with your mother, sure it is, but they’re known for their mischief, for being nothing but happy-go-lucky. Besides… sometimes grief manifests itself in strange ways. Whether it be through inconvenient fits of laughter or a stone-faced apathy, it’s all of the same brood: an interesting yet no less instinctual coping mechanism.

Considering you’ve been forcefully naive surrounding your reasons for being flown out, you know plenty about those mechanisms yourself.

It’s not impossible that they’re mourning her in their own way, the twins. Behind all the admittedly strange, insouciant remarks and the carelessness around such a delicate situation- tasteless at the best of times- you think you see it, the cracks.

The fleeting blips of unease in Luke’s eyes. The moments where the room goes quiet after a good joke makes its round through and he has to blink something away from his conscience. Or the gelidity of his brother, for that matter. The wide-eyed stare into nothingness before he, too, shakes it away like whatever it is is no more than an intrusive thought to be tossed aside and disregarded.

Not to mention they’re gentler with you. More… chivalrous, almost.

Exhibit A:

The boys approach you closer to sunset in your bedroom, their polite, small smiles and knocks before coming in pleasant surprises each.

Perched on your bedroom’s dormer window, you boredly flip through a book you’ve read at least thrice as they ask if you’ve found a dress yet for the funeral, as respectful as they ever could be.

On cue, your world weathers at the edges. Like paper thinning through after its corner is put to a lighter.

Right, right. A dress. The- The funeral….

You’ve not even been in the Qin estate for 24 hours but you’re already letting these things- these very paramount things- slip from your mind. They should be in the forefront of it, but the more you dwell on them (your priorities: using these two weeks to prepare for the ceremony, finding suitable attire, hopefully going through her belongings once you’re ready enough), the more it hurts, so you just shut it out.

See, all of this— the dreadful knowing that your veritable mother is gone and in terms of blood and bone family, you’re now left utterly alone (that maybe if you’d just- fucking hung around a bit more you somehow could’ve reversed her fate)— has obviously affected you as much as it has your stepfamily if not more- considering they were the ones who found her and all. But the twins, and even their father, are demonstrating a master class in composure, and you don’t know whether to find gratitude in their lack of flying off the handle (in this hell, someone needs to remain coolheaded) or be offended by it.

It almost feels like she was never here.

Like nothing went wrong... But you can’t really blame them for their cool and collected behaviors, because you’re putting up a strong front yourself.

Maybe your mother wasn’t the twins’ given at birth, sure... But they operated as a true family. Even when you were bitter and stuck-up and rude, the four of them were tight-knit, so much so that eventually you felt like the fucking interloper in it all, the outlying number in the equation.

So you quietly understand that there’s hurt involved on their side around her death- whether they’re being loud about it or not- and choose not to tally it against them.

…Perhaps, you think, it’s high time for you to retire your childhood grudges, anyway.

You close the book, smoothing over the cover.

If the five-second rule applies— you use four and a half to pick up your pieces off the floor and formulate a reply, not hiding how crestfallen you are.

“No. I… I haven’t even went shopping yet. I mean, I figured-“

A thick swallow on your end- and an exhale that sounds more like the stirrings of a panic attack and the boys are at your side in a moment. Their softer facets coming through as they join you on the loft window.

Luke takes the worn stuffed animal he almost crushes, dutifully ignoring its matted fur, and places it in your lap to distract you as you struggle to articulate your emotions. Kieran does his best to not scrutinize you too much, knowing you typically don’t like the attention, while you fidget with the plushie and give them an odd show of vulnerability.

I mean, fuck it. They see you as their sister, and you’re tired of pretending to be too tough to rely on them as your brothers, so—

“I- I figured we had two whole weeks, you know? And… And that’s plenty of time to just get a dress later. Have- Have you two gotten everything ready for it?”

“Yeah,” Luke murmurs back, taking your hand in his to swallow it up in warmth. It surprises you but you don’t make a comment. As if wanting to be included as well, or maybe he’s just mad his brother beat him to the punch, Kieran quietly nudges the plushie from your other hand and intwines his fingers with yours.

Your cheeks warm.

Your heart, ricocheting in your chest, whispers something you don’t quite catch as one of them sluggishly props his chin on your shoulder, mumbling a hey, it’s alright as you furiously blink, and you’re inundated with a foreign sense of- of—

Security? …Is that it?

“We went with dad yesterday to buy the suits.”

“Before he picked you up at the airport,” Luke clarifies in a light tone.

At your back, the sun glares over a chilly courtyard, lighting the fountain and iron-wrought gates with liquid, reflective gold. It only makes the near identical visages either side of you look all the more daring and impish— boyishly handsome— as dusk washes its hues over the three of you.

It’s just a little jarring.

A set of knuckles, almost experimentally, caresses your toasty cheek.

…For perhaps the first documented time in history, you don’t bite.

“We can take you, if you want? There’s a place in town that can tailor something perfectly for you. We can go tonight to get your measurements, sis, what do you think? Just get it done?”

It’s… not a bad idea. Far from it, actually.

You’d be able to quiet the restless part of your mind. Accomplish this seemingly easy task that’s become gargantuan in your head all within the span of just one night. To top it all off, it’d be with the added bonus of the twins’ brotherly support.

“A-Actually,” you start, lifting your chin to look at Luke, and then Kieran, voice thin, “I was, um, wondering if you two could take me somewhere else.”

They wait, owlish.

You meekly continue, “I’ve already read all the books I have here. I was thinking if you could drive me to that store downtown, just so I can pick up a few. Something to, um, fill in the time while I’m here, you know?“

Kieran blinks at you, dark eyes examining your face carefully, like he’s taking it in in a new light. You’re sure they don’t know what to make of you right now: for most if not all of your teen years, you played the part of distant stepsister very well, never wore your emotions on your sleeve and hesitated to be open with any of the members of your stepfamily.

Perhaps they think you’re taking a page from their book— setting them up for some grandiose joke so you can cackle in their faces.

Luke, smiling faintly, nudges your shoulder with his and leans in. “Sure, sis. Me and Kieran will take you. I guess you haven’t changed too much while you’ve been gone, huh? You’re still a big bookworm.”

“A big nerd.”

“Alright, you two,” you chuckle lightly, jabbing them both playfully- to which they both offer up a fake, dramatic grunt of pain to- before wiping the tear that almost beads at your eye. You hope they don’t notice. But if they do, they don’t make any sly remark about it. For that you’re thankful.

It seems you’ve all matured quite a bit since pre-adulthood, but it’s somehow more obvious this time around.

This visit is different from the last in more ways than one.

Looking between them both, hardly able to hold their respective gazes as your pulse swings in your throat— “Thank you”— you murmur, gentle.

For as embarrassing as it is to be vulnerable, you let yourself be just a little sweet with them... Considering your mother is gone, and the unsteady grounds you stand on with Sylus especially- the veritable owner of this home- you think you’re less of an inhabitant here and more of a… guest.

Once these two weeks are up and the funeral concludes, you’ll be going away again. Probably for the last time. Nothing will call you back.

(You’d been such a brat. What would want to?)

The twins, unable to hide the little, genuine smirks rippling across their faces, regard you inquisitively when something like sadness flashes across your gaze.

You clear your throat. That thought of finally escaping your stepfamily- your stepfather and all he represented- for good shouldn’t make something in your heart tremble. But oh, it does.

Politely, you brush off their hands and rise to your feet. You’re not sure what’s gotten into you, but you plaster on an awkward yet no less friendly smile and cross your arms.

“So, boys? You ready to go now? Or…?”

Kieran, the utter moron he is, comments something about how he was born ready, jumping up, and then they’re ushering you out the door and into the hall, towards the stairs, in a two-person stampede.

✦

You buy a book.

Three, for good measure, each thicker than the one before. Just something to occupy your mind in the windows of silence you’ll no doubt spend idling around the mansion before the ceremony.

On the way back, the sky is black underneath a cladding of clouds. Ash as far as the eye can see. The stars are hiding, but you lean your cheek against the car window and look up as if trying to spot them, anyway.

Lost in your mind, your own musings holding you close as the bag sits atop your lap, you don’t pay much attention to the boys when they ask if you wanna stop somewhere to eat because they’re getting munchy.

Without looking, though, you do tell them ‘no thanks, you’re getting kind of sleepy’ and Kieran makes the turn home— albeit not without a dramatic sigh.

It’s… pleasant though, surprisingly. Being with them.

It’s like luck is finally shuffling over to your side. Like things are finally looking up- no matter how trife or trivial they seem. For as shitty of a week it’s turned out to be, you need all the silver linings you can get. So (although with some reluctance, some… confusion) you’ll count this time with them as a small blessing.

Maybe, just maybe, this impromptu trip to Linkon is finally taking a turn for the better. Maybe each and every one of your efforts to remain patient and open-minded and mature with your stepfamily have actually begun to pay off. Maybe you won’t be tearfully pulling hair from your scalp after all, driven mad.

The twins’ harmless griping is a backdrop you smile at as the gates of the estate come into view through the woody road.

In the warmer seasons, it’s a monolithic modern thing erected atop rolling lawns striped green. As it stands now, though, the courtyard is a dull, frosted sage, quiet and cold. The fountain will need to be turned off soon before everything freezes, before the snow comes. You vaguely wonder if one of the workers or bush trimmers that come along every week or two will remember before Sylus even gives them the order. It’s likely.

A thud. “Are you sure, sis?” Your door closes behind you.

Hand still on the wheel, Kieran waggles his eyebrows as his sibling hollers from the passenger seat, thinking you’ll take his lilts as an invitation to get back into the vehicle.

“I’m sure,” you murmur fondly, actually stopping at the driver’s window for a moment to hear them out. You adjust the plastic bag in your grasp and throw a look down the rest of the driveway, towards the house.

“You want us to bring something back, at least? We found this cool new place that opened up that has the best—“

A chuckle. “I’m alright, really. We had lunch and dinner together, ‘member?” Then, you give your throat a soft, innocuous clear, scuffing your shoes over the pavement. “By the way, uh… Do you think your dad’s home yet?”

With the garage closed, the path empty and only the lights you left on in the house warmly shining through, it’s hard to tell if anybody else has come by.

Kieran actually snickers at your hesitance, the little bastard.

You reach forward to flick his forehead and he reels away with an excited shout. “Calm down, sis, I didn’t even say anything!”

“Yeah, but I see you laughing you dummy-“

“It’s just cute, is all. You’re always so worried about our old man and what he’s up to.”

You huff at that, maybe even visibly fluster. But before you can say anything, hop to your own defense, a puckish voice overlaps yours. “If you were in a cartoon, you’d have steam coming out of your ears right now.”

“Ugh! You two are unbearable-!”

“Hey, Kieran said it, not me-“

“But you thought it, didn’t you? You two share the same handful of braincells after all!!”

They both laugh, more endeared by your insults than offended- much to your dismay- and you put your tongue in your cheek. Your narrowed eyes drift back to the titanic of a home. Maybe it’s your imagination, but you almost swear you see a shadow flutter by one of the floor-to-ceiling windows on the bottom level and—

“Did you see that?” You untuck your arms from their weave at your chest and squint. The boys, still sniggering, follow your gaze. “I think he is home.”

A beat of silence passes.

You turn over. Luke faces ahead in his seat, wetting his lip wordlessly, but Kieran dangles his arm out the side of the fancy, sleek car (that his father surely bought for him as a toy) with his eyes set on you.

Holding your gaze with a shake of his head, his smirk is a tenuous thing, but it’s there. “Nah, I’m pretty sure he’s gone, sis.”

If you ever write a guide on surviving the Qin family, the first page would say: step one, do not believe the twins if they utter anything even a stone’s throw from the two words—

“Don’t worry.”

You frown, uncertain.

He laughs at your pouting. “Kieran- just tell me the truth-“

“I’m serious! He’ll be back later tonight, probably midnight. You know how it is. His schedule is spotty.”

A wind sweeps through and you shiver ever so slightly, clasping either of your arms as you hug them close to your body. Your lips are getting that uncomfortable dry feeling but you know it’ll only worsen if you run your tongue over them. So you don’t.

You eye the lavish, yet unassuming front of the home, ruminating. “Kieran-“

“Now go back in before you catch a cold. Dad will really kill me and Luke if he finds out you were standing out in the dark just to bicker with us.”

“I’m innocent in this,” his brother murmurs before exaggerating a yawn.

You analyze the crafty duo one more time before sensing no dupe on their end and sighing, marching up towards the house.

“Fine,” you call over your shoulder, just a little testy. You don’t want to be fooled, but there isn’t a big reason for them to lie about whether their dad’s returned or not- and even if he did make it back already, it’s no major thorn in your side. There’s a fat chance you’ll just casually, quietly, pass him by as you head to your room- and that’s even if you bump into him in the first place. The place isn’t exactly small or conducive to chance meetings.

“But if you’re lying,” you start, before blushing because you can’t quite think of a good threat. “You’ll- you’ll regret it.”

The engine purrs and the car pulls off- thank God- carrying the harmless yet bothersome mocking words of your stepbrothers with it. “Ohhhh so scary! See you later!”

You cluck your tongue, shaking your head at no annoyance of theirs in particular as you hop up the steps and fish for the key in your pocket.

Giggling under your breath. Idiots.

✦

You’re not giggling when you enter the open foyer, locking the door behind you, and spot a figure in the living room, splayed out on the large L-shaped sofa.

No, you’re not even thinking about the boys anymore, just the dilemma laid out before you as you press your lips together in a thin line and turn your feet into feathers to begin making your way through.

God’s hand must be over your life though, because upon closer, very furtive inspection, tiptoeing towards the archway, he’s…

Asleep.

You let out a soundless sigh of relief at that, shoulders slumping.

…And you should take the opportunity- glad it’s even come to you- and go, you know. It’s as good a moment as any to slip off, undetected, and retreat into the privacy of your bedroom.

It’s all but waiting for you.

What you told the twins was as much of a truth as it was a good excuse— you’re tired and it’s encroaching on that time where you want to plop into bed and curl up under the covers.

Not because it’s past your curfew or anything, no- honestly, you usually have a penchant to stay up late- but because you’re still a little jet-lagged from the flight and you’d prefer to sleep instead of loaf the evening through with the unwanted company of whatever thoughts that might creep in.

You’re not… incredibly close with Sylus. Unbidden feelings of safety and peace in his presence nudged aside, you’re not chummy with the guy and you really have no reason to stick around especially when you’re growing tired but—

Approaching the archway, you slowly reach a hand to rest on it, and you watch.

A half-touched mug of coffee sits on the table before the couch. Strewn beside it is his laptop, mousepad and mouse, and one of those yellow, lined notebooks that you quirk a brow at only because it’s deceptively cheap for a man so expensive.

It’s closer to something your own father- your real, now deceased one- would use to mark out measurements for his woodworking projects, or keep on the fridge under a magnet as a note to himself.

…Huh.

A mite amused by the sight of your generally very awake, proactive stepfather, you fight off a grudging smile- all too entertained by the languid display- and rest your shoulder against the wall.

Dim, golden lights fall over him in a gentle haze, but the shadow cut by his bumped nose is sharp.

You know they’re not related, Sylus and his unruly sons. The twins are splitting images of each other, but they mirror nothing of Sylus’s face— so when you heard the casual murmurs between him and your mother behind closed doors one evening about their ‘adoption’ long ago, you shouldn’t have been surprised. Yet you were.

For as much as you disliked him, it was never because he was a bad father.

The opposite, if you’re completely honest.

He’s always been good to the boys. Nothing short of nurturing (in his own indirect way, of course), paternal, and teacherly. Offering a hand of guidance where it was needed but never ironlike or suffocating with how he used it. If anything, he was even a smidgen lax with them- which you’d quietly admire but only in absolute secret.

Every parent has their faults, that’s a given.

Sylus had very little.

A head full of silver (and some grey, albeit it’s hard to notice his age just because he handles it so gracefully, so boldly) tipped against the back of the couch with an arm resting on the side of it- the shaggy throw blanket on his lap with the wintry chill kept in mind— he’s more than just peaceful. He’s…

Domestic. Relaxed.

This is his territory, you’re reminded again.

You’re just passing through it.

A five o’clock shadow dots the slant of his jaw. His lashes don’t even flutter in his sleep; you reckon he’s deep into it. A pen hangs between his fingers, limp.

Interest dashes through you as you quietly observe him.

You’re not… spying, per se, it’s just- You’re just curious, alright? And to be fair, he wouldn’t have any right to call you out on your observation even if he wanted to, because the number of times you’ve felt and ignored his patient, hopeful, or outright (for whatever reason) amazed stare is too high to be logged.

A pair of glasses rests on the tip of his nose, sloping off. There’s no way to tell just when he got home, but it’s obvious he had been hard at work with something on his computer.

Humming thoughtfully, you pull your gaze away before sluggishly pushing off the threshold.

You shake your head at yourself, readjusting your bag as you find the trace of humor in your desultory actions. Why you let your curiosity get the better of you, you don’t know. It’s very possible at this point that something’s possessed you. Either that, or your cold, guarded heart is thawing out at rates National Geographic needs to get an angle on ASAP.

In any case- you really ought to head up for bed now.

Quiet as a mouse, careful lest you wake and alert him to your presence, you pad behind the couch and across the width of the massive living room to the just as opulent stairs.

You look up to them—

Looming. Dark.

In your mind’s eye, so unrealistically steep- so dangerous—

Breath suddenly hitching, you glance down to your feet, planted firmly beneath you- unmoving- and remind yourself of good things. Other, things.

Puppies. Kittens. Rainbows with pots of gold waiting at the other end with leprechauns to greedily guard them- varying flights of fancy.

Awfully enough, in all your attempts to distract and soothe yourself, four portraits pop up into your brain and three of them belong to none other than your stepfamily.

You want to be callous. But it’s not working this time around.

This wound of yours that your mother’s death left behind is too open, too fleshy, for you to pretend that your skin is so hardened.

Reopening your eyes, you swallow down the bad gut feeling that twists like a knife- the inexplicable unease disappearing as quickly as it came- and reach a hand for the railing.

Bed. Bed. Clearly, you need the rest—

“Kitten?”

A groggy voice. That, and a shuffle.

You flip around.

You’re too shocked to even remember you’re meant to dislike him, hand flying over your heart in a trice. “Y-Yeah?”

Your stepfather, looking sideward over the couch at you, blinks away sleep casually.

Oh, God. It’s just him…

“Oh,” he mumbles, “Sorry, Sweetie. I didn’t mean to scare you…” lazily tossing a glance to the unoccupied space around him, even the banister overhead; checking for something, you realize as your heart slowly takes its foot out from your throat.

You sigh out, visibly deflating.

You think you see his gaze drop to the bag in your hand, giving you a once-over, but his ruby eyes are catching the light in a way that makes it near impossible to discern. You can only tell he’s looking at you because he’s facing you.

“Where’s the boys? You left with them, didn’t you?”

Your lashes bounce against your cheekbone, rapid as you collect your bearings. “Oh, they…”

His tone gets a little stern, then, his eyes a little clearer now as he dips his chin and quirks a searching brow. Incredulous, very. “Is… everything alright? They behaved themselves, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, no- the boys were fine,” you shake your head, rubbing nothing from your eye. Fatigue, maybe, as it drapes itself over you. It takes a second for you to remember the events that led you here before opening your mouth to speak on them. “Um, they just wanted to get a snack and I wanted to be dropped off, so…”

He takes a moment to ponder that.

Unconvinced, “But everything went well?” His attention skims over you hastily. You see that, now. The intense glitter in his eye, wholly transfixed, as the dregs of his slumber wear off- however, the gravel in his voice is more stubborn to go.

He sighs, long-suffering. “You can tell me. I won’t let them know it was you.”

You struggle to imagine how that would go, but shake your head in the next moment anyway.

“Really, it was fine. Everything went well.”

“Good.” He hums, then, seemingly satisfied.

He pores over you, curious all over again as a tiny bunch forms between his brow, wrinkling it slightly. “You’re… heading up for the night now, I guess?”

Oh, yes actually, you think to yourself in time with his reminding you of it- but you go to reply and hold off on it when he glances down at what you correctly assume to be his wristwatch, pausing thoughtfully.

“Oh, my. It’s gotten pretty late out now,” he drawls. “Hm. I must’ve drifted off while I was waiting for-”

You quirk a brow. “Ah. Waiting for this spreadsheet to get interesting,” he smoothly chuckles, looking at the screen of his computer and the low battery sign that pops up as a window on it.

Before you can think to respond- “Goodnight then, Kitten,” he lilts as high as his sleep-addled voice will allow, “I’ll see you in the morning. Should I,” a pause again, “wake you for breakfast?”

You swallow, momentarily glancing at the top landing of the stairs. “No thanks.”

“Are you sure?” He breathes.

Persistence is needed in business, you know that; it’s why you don’t hold it against him when his first instinct is to push rather than pull away. His realm is different than yours. And anyway, he’s just being polite— playing the part of the concerned, doting, yet nonetheless hesitant stepfather who is terribly uncertain with how to best handle his grouchy stepdaughter. He does it well.

“You’re not afraid of missing out?”

You offer a mildly amused huff, choosing to indulge him just this once- just for these two weeks. “On my sleep, maybe.”

He chuckles. It’s a full and rich sound. There’ll come a day where Luke and Kieran will coax more of the same out of him, and you’ll give them genuine, congratulatory claps on the back each for the achievement.

For now, though, that feat is yours and yours alone. Not that you’re… exactly proud of it.

“Alright, alright, I get the hint, little miss night owl… I won’t disturb you tomorrow. You have my word.” He smirks just barely. Just safe enough.

“Sleep tight, Sweetie.”

The ice is melting between you both, yes- a phenomenon you both curiously, warily observe— but he will watch his step.

You set your foot on the first stair, “T-Thanks. You too.”

…As will you.

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read part 3 here

[ponderingmoonlight]

Geto being forced to kiss you during a mission but shamelessly making out with you instead

Pairing: Geto x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,8k

Synopsis: It was an easy mission like many others before. Get in, find the suspect, free the innocent. Well, if it wasn't for none other than Geto Suguru who has to play your boyfriend. If it wasn't for that fateful situation that forces you into a heated kiss.

Warnings: I swear this is a dream I had tonight and I HAD to write it down with Geto being the main character lol, no smut but it's getting a little heated y'all, enjoy

You’ve been assigned to many missions before, but this one is different. It’s not the mission itself - that’s pretty standard. Blend in, gather the information needed, free their hostages and get out. No, what makes this different is who you’re paired with.

Geto Suguru.

It’s not that you dislike Suguru. Quite the opposite, really. He’s intelligent, powerful, and intimidatingly good-looking. To be honest, you didn’t really get the chance to talk a lot with him. You’ve met him a few months ago at a party, innocently meeting his gaze for the first time. Since then, you wrote a few messages back on forth without him really kicking off a conversation with you himself.

Working so closely with him? That’s a whole different challenge.

You glance over at him as the two of you walk down a crowded street, playing the part of casual tourists. He’s dressed casually, his black hair tied up in its usual bun, dark sunglasses resting on his face. His tall frame and handsome face draw some attention, but not enough to arouse suspicion. Still, you’re hyper-aware of his presence, every step synchronized with his, every breath you take feels too loud beside him.

“You alright?” Suguru questions, his voice smooth as ever, but there’s a hint of amusement hidden behind it.

You realize you’ve been staring a little too long. Again.

“Yeah, fine,” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Just focused.”

“Good,” he comments, his lips curving into a faint smile.

“We can’t afford any distractions today.”

It’s funny he should say that, given that he’s been the biggest distraction for you all day.

The two of you are currently undercover in the heart of Tokyo, tasked with infiltrating a high-profile gathering where some curses are believed to be in league with a dangerous rogue sorcerer. You’re supposed to act like a couple - just a pair of normal people attending a party, gathering information without raising any alarms. Simple enough.

Except pretending to be a couple with Geto Suguru isn’t as easy as it sounds.

The party venue is just up ahead, a high-end rooftop lounge that glows with expensive lights and laughter spilling out into the cool evening air. You take a deep breath, adjusting the strap of your dress as you try to mentally prepare yourself for what’s coming. You’ve done plenty of undercover work before, but never one so… intimate.

As if sensing your tension, Suguru places a hand lightly on the small of your back, guiding you toward the entrance. The touch sends a jolt through you, far too electrifying for something so casual. You hope he doesn’t notice the silly reaction of your body, how his touch alone sends shivers down your spine.

“We’ll get in, blend, and be out of here before anyone knows we’re even involved,” he murmurs, his voice so close to your ear it sends another shiver down your spine.

“Just stay close to me.”

You nod, your pulse quickening despite yourself.

“Got it.”

The two of you approach the entrance, and after a quick flash of the fake invitations, you’re in. The lounge is just as extravagant as you expected: soft golden lights, chandeliers glinting like diamonds, and elegantly dressed people sipping on expensive drinks.

The air is thick with the scent of alcohol and perfume, a faint buzz of conversation filling the room. You can feel the tension already, a subtle undercurrent that tells you something’s off. The rogue sorcerer could be anywhere in the crowd, and the curses could be anyone. You can’t afford to relax for even a second.

Suguru’s hand doesn’t leave your back as he leads you through the room, guiding you with the ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times before. You find a spot near the back, close to the open bar, where you can observe without being too obvious.

“They’re here somewhere,” Suguru mumbles, his eyes scanning the crowd behind his sunglasses.

You nod in agreement, your gaze sweeping over the guests. You can feel eyes on you too, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Just regular party-goers glancing at the attractive couple standing together, unaware of what you and Suguru are really here for.

Just as you start to relax, a small group of men enters from a side door, catching your attention. One of them, in particular, stands out. He’s dressed sharply, his dark hair slicked back, a predatory gleam in his eyes. You don’t need to double-check him, your palms already starting to sweat.

That’s him. The rogue sorcerer. The man you’ve been searching for.

Suguru notices him too, his posture tensing slightly.

“That’s our target,” he mutters under his breath.

You nod subtly, trying to remain casual, but the moment the sorcerer’s eyes land on you and Suguru, they narrow. He recognizes something. Or maybe it’s just paranoia. Either way, the tension in the air spikes.

“He’s watching us,” you whisper, your pulse quickening.

“Act natural,” Suguru says, his voice low, steady.

He slides his arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Just follow my lead.”

Your heart pounds at the sudden closeness. His hand is warm on your waist, his body pressed against yours in a way that’s far too intimate for what should be a simple undercover mission. But you force yourself to relax, slipping into the role.

The sorcerer is still watching, his eyes flicking between the two of you with suspicion.

Suguru leans down, his lips brushing against your ear.

“We need to do something to throw him off. He’s getting suspicious.”

You swallow hard, nodding slightly. The last thing you want to do is causing a scene and risking the lives of countless innocent people.

“What do you suggest?”

There’s a pause, just long enough for you to notice the way his gaze switching back and forth between your lips and eyes. No, he can’t really mean this, right? You, kissing Suguru Geto?

But his eyes aren’t joking around. Not the slightest bit.

“We’re going to have to make this look real,” he continues, voice low and serious.

Before you can ask one more time what he means, his hand slides up to cup your cheek, turning your face toward his.

Your breath catches in your throat as he tilts your chin up, his dark eyes locking onto yours. There’s no time to question it, no time to think. His lips are on yours before you can even process what’s happening.

It’s soft at first, just a brush of his mouth against yours, gentle and controlled. It’s meant to be quick, just enough to make it seem real. But then something shifts. The pressure deepens, his hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

You can’t help the soft gasp that escapes you as his other hand tightens on your waist, his body pressing more firmly against yours. What started as a brief kiss to maintain your cover quickly spirals into something else entirely. The kiss grows heated, his lips moving against yours with a hunger you hadn’t expected.

Your hands move on instinct, holding onto the back of his neck as you lean into him, literally fall against him.

You should pull away. The mission. The rogue sorcerer. You can’t afford to be distracted. This is nothing but a cover-up, after all. But the kiss… it’s overwhelming. Suguru’s lips are firm, his breath hot against your skin as he deepens the kiss, coaxing a response from you that you can’t hold back.

The world around you fades. There’s no party, no rogue sorcerer, no mission. There’s just the heat between the two of you, the press of his body against yours, the way his lips seem to know exactly how to pull you under.

Your pulse races, your mind going hazy as the kiss stretches on longer than it should. There’s an urgency now, a desperation in the way his mouth moves against yours. It’s not about the mission anymore. This is something else entirely. Something raw, electric. Something you only allow yourself to dream of.

His tongue brushes against your lower lip, and without thinking, you part your lips, letting him in. The kiss becomes even more intense, your bodies pressed so close you can feel the rapid beat of his heart against yours. His hand moves from your neck, tangling in your hair as he pulls you impossibly closer, his breath mixing with yours as the kiss turns downright needy.

A soft sound escapes you, half gasp, half moan, and you feel Suguru’s grip tighten in response. He’s losing control too. The realization sends a thrill through you, the idea that Geto Suguru, the calm, composed and always in control force of a man, could be folding because of you.

But then, just as suddenly as it started, he pulls away. The kiss breaks, leaving you both breathless, your lips swollen, your heart racing.

Suguru’s chest rises and falls rapidly, his dark eyes staring into yours, wide with something unspoken. His hand lingers on your waist for a moment longer before he finally lets go, stepping back, his expression unreadable.

You blink, trying to clear the haze from your mind, trying to remember where you are, what you’re supposed to be doing, your mind desperately fighting for control while your body still griefs the cold he left behind.

The rogue sorcerer. The mission.

You quickly glance around, realizing the sorcerer is no longer watching. He must have lost interest, convinced by the display. You breathe a sigh of relief, but the tension between you and Suguru remains thick, heavy.

“That… worked,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Suguru nods, but his eyes are still on you, dark and intense.

“Yeah. It worked.”

For a moment, neither of you move, the air between you crackling with something unsaid, something neither of you is quite ready to acknowledge.

But the mission isn’t over yet. You have a job to do, and now, more than ever, you need to stay focused.

Suguru clears his throat, straightening his posture, slipping effortlessly back into his composed persona.

“We should keep moving. We still have to find out what their plan is.”

You nod, trying to steady your racing heart as you follow him through the crowd. But even as you focus on the task at hand, you can still feel the lingering heat of his kiss, the way his lips felt against yours, the way your body reacted to his touch.

Tags:

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[tallysgreatestfan]

Specials in the book vs the movie

Now, from the way they are described in the book, I am not sure if you could even possibly translate that into a movie, especially not with this budget, but: It is really frustrating what the movie did with the Specials.

In the movie they come across as your garden variety super soldier, but in the book they are honestly one of the coolest cyborg designs I ever saw in scifi (and scifi is my main reading and watching genre).

For starters, yes, they are much stronger and faster than the humans in the setting, but most of all, they are surged to look intimidating. They use plastic surgery to make the Pretties look beautiful, but for them the Cities huge medical advancement is used to design their faces and body type in a way that is not even necessarily visibly non-human on first glance, but the type of facial features one instinctively is afraid of. Which is such a interesting concept.

They also, and I can totally understand that this would have been incredibly hard to get right, maybe impossible, move in a way that is just slightly off. Too fast and too angular. The book describes it as elegant but almost insect-like, like cockroaches slithering across a plate. You see them for longer than a second and instinctively know that that aren't humans anymore. It's taking the uncanny valley and using it for warfare.

It is a bit visible in the way Laverne Cox plays Dr. Cable, even she plays her much more human than in the book. She does emote and she does have body language - but much lesser than most people do, and she uses the majority of it to manipulate people. She also doesn't do all these small, unconscious movements like cleaning your fingernails, bobbing your foot or scratching your face.

Third: They are disturbingly fast. The scene where they invade the Smoke is described in the book as the Specials just casually walking into the complete chaos, and it doesn't looks as if they are doing anything - except that they herd Smokies in front of them and everybody they walk past is tied up on the floor. Which is such a cool visual, but again, not sure if its possible to film that.

Its also, and this is yet another reason why I dislike the changed Peris plotline, much more complicated and disturbing than them just being mindless killing machines. To be fair, it only is explained in the later books, but it is more like an artificially induced personality disorder, carefully tweaked so that they have a sense of superiority towards Uglies and Pretties, but also notice the beauty of the natural world much more intensely than them and are ready to protect them, anger and impulse control issues, and loyalty to the City.

What makes that even more disturbing, and this is not directly canon, but it would make sense from certain events in the later books, they seem to specifically pick already neurodivergent people to mold them into that. Yes, the series has light, but there, neurodivergence themes later on. This aspect is handled surprisingly well and empowering (unlike the eating disorder and self-harm rep, but that is another topic).

There seem to be two ways to end up in Special Circumstances, and its way to easy for Peris to have this happen:

Be with the wardens (they are actually different to Special Circumstances), the firefighters or the doctors, aka the only professions in the City which don't have the lesions, and stand out in some useful way. Likely how Dr. Cable ended up with Special Circumstances.

Be self-destructive and mentally ill in a way that seems useful to be manipulated. Happens with [redacted] and [redacted]

And they actively screen the Uglies for who might a good candidate for Special Circumstances in five to ten years. The Uglies dorms are so easy to trick not by oversight, but to watch who is able to tweak the rules and who not.

They also have fangs in the books. Which would have looked so cool, but also acting with fake fangs is a pain in the ass (ask the Star Trek Discovery season 1 Klingon cast), so I can understand that they left that out.

Another thing the movie sadly dumbs down is just how invasive not just the Pretty surgery is, but the Special surgery even more. Tw for surgical gore for the rest of this.

They skin the person and replace the skin with new, more flawless skin for both operations. They also take out all teeth and replace them with ceramic teeth in both operations. What is unique to the Special operation is that they replace most muscles with cybernetic muscles, and that they replace the entire skeleton with the same much more sturdy ceramic they did the teeth with. No, I do not want to know how this logistically happens.

Also just so many other cybernetic implants. A chip in the fingertips that makes them able to put their fingers on glass and translate the vibrations into the sound happening in the room behind. Various tweaks to the eyes, or maybe they completely replace the eyes, it is unclear, but Specials can see infrared radiation. Software to calculate the time and direction just from seeing the stars.

I do like how Laverne Cox interpreted Dr. Cable, but for the other Specials I would have really liked to see more

[lord-of-the-nemaverses]

How Magic is Burning Out Its Community

Once upon a time, there was a pretty little thing called three set blocks. Unfortunately, after the Mending, three set blocks had a lot of weaknesses during a time when Magic focused less on main characters and big, sweeping conflicts. The WAR block is a decent (if maybe not the best?) example of why a three set block works; they used the first two sets to transition from Bolas's plan threatening just the main characters, into the plan threatening the multiverse. Then, they used the third set to actually cover the climax and resolution.

This structure doesn't work well for introducing new worlds, or revisiting old ones (with some exceptions, like the WAR block).

As much as three set blocks worked a lot better in general, general is not what Wizards made money off of. Unfortunately, companies listen to the money, so it doesn't matter what the community actually says for the most part; if the community says they don't like a set, but it broke record sales, the community spoke with their wallets to say they loved the set. Unfortunately, this isn't exclusive to the community, however; if a bunch of new players join around the time a radical decision is made, they may misconstrue that change as a successful one even if it isn't. There's so much nuance that spreadsheets can't convey, that shareholders don't see, but Wizards saw the writing on the wall. Even if three block sets worked for major conflicts, the fact that they didn't work for sets like OG Theros meant that Wizards took the easy way and converted to two set blocks. Additionally, despite foundational sets being mandatory for the health of a game with a rotating format, Wizards axed Core Sets to make this two set block rotation work.

But even that wasn't enough.

People still complained, both vocally and with their wallets. Whenever there was a plane with nothing exciting going on, people tuned out after the first set and the second set didn't do as well. Two set blocks still weren't working to roll in the steady stream of satisfied players spending hundreds. So, they cut the cord and went for the extreme of one-set blocks, only making Midnight Hunt/Crimson Vow two sets because they absolutely couldn't make it work with on.

They didn't learn their lesson because we didn't speak with our wallets.

Midnight Hunt/Crimson Vow wasn't that successful in their eyes. The set being split-up meant it didn't feel coherent, so people didn't buy it. Double Feature's black and white gimmick and this lack of cohesion killed interest in what should have been the best way to play the set. This block being a design failure, and players not buying it, caused Wizards to read this as two set blocks being wildly disliked by the community.

In the background, a different problem was emerging; between quite a few planes being revisited and new planes getting only one set, players are going to be less likely to give a set a try. With two set blocks, a new plane or revisit may hurt its second set with a poor first set, but on the flip side, players have more time to warm up to the block, to the plane. Players are going to be more likely to take a risk, and may end up liking the plane more than they thought they would. If planes only get one set, you have to cram everything in that single set, which can cause rich details to be overlooked. Players will then have to make their judgment on if they want to invest in that plane or not based on a single set and a cursory glance at the major details of the plane. And, when faced with risk and less of a reason to take it, less people will take it. After all, they can just wait for their favorite plane/character to show up later; their plan to get more engagement wasn't working, so they started throwing everything at the wall. Event sets were wildly popular! Let's make more of them! Certain characters sell well! Let's feature them more and create Omenpaths so any major character can appear in any major set!

But our overexposure to legendary creatures and major events, happening in rapid fire, was causing us to get burnt out. Conflicts stopped feeling meaningful. Major character appearances stopped feeling meaningful. And that leads us to today, where now, half of the future sets will be Universes Beyond; that made them money, but that's because it felt new, and people bought it. That's because new players, who weren't with Magic for the journey, are coming in droves. The reason you don't like Magic anymore is because you're still playing Magic, but you aren't part of the same storytelling experience anymore. The newest Phyrexian invasion could have been exciting, with high stakes. Many Compleated characters came back and the multiversal invasion was summarized in ONE SET. Outlaws of Thunder Junction could have been exciting, with characters from across the multiverse trying to find and uncover the secrets of the Fomori Vault. Big story beat potential, but it was summarized in ONE SET. Aetherdrift featured a massive race, representing three planes and inhabitants from across the entire multiverse. Huge chance to represent two fan-favorite planes and a brand new one, but it was summarized in ONE SET. And now, with Tarkir: Dragonstorm coming up, we have a massive plot spanning the same sort of conflict the original Tarkir block covered, with Khans versus Dragons and two major events.

That are being glossed over.

Because it's being summarized

in ONE SET.

How are we supposed to get attached to these characters and their struggles when they all fly by so fast? Magic may be a card game but it's also a storytelling game, and what made Magic itself was that it felt like a storybook playing out on the cards. You saw a story slowly evolve, plots could be better structured, but now it's story after story after story summarized in bullet points, the details and struggles only getting brief mentions. And, with that gone, what makes Magic Magic is gone, so you only get to see it as the card game it is. And, if I want to come to a table to see a story told out in bullet points, Yu-Gi-Oh's been catching up on their storytelling; it's been there, but now they're bringing it to the forefront, because they realize Magic has stopped doing what it's done best, leaving an opening for someone else to do it instead.

[courtofmatchups]

Hii english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes. Can i get a matchup for Tokyo Debunker and Twisted Wonderland? Im not sure if you do two fandoms in a matchup if you dont please do only Tokyo Debunker.

Appearance: Im 5'4 INFJ 4w6 with short wavy bkack hair, brown eyes, and have glasses. Outfit wise i tend to wear something comfortabke and casual most of the time but im branching out to streetwear and both dark and light academia.

Personality: I tend to be quiet most of the time so i may come across shy or even intimidating. But once you start to talk to me im rather easy going and as friendship progresses i get more loud and witty with the ppl i like and show my affection through tough love. Although i am easy going but i dont take nonsense. But i dont like confrontations and arguments so if the time calls for it i will remain calm and wont let things escalate, for the most part.

Likes and hobbies: I like playing mobile games, watching anime, drawing, writing and reading. I am pursuing literature in academics so im always curious about history, philosphies and stories even though exams make me regret it. I also like cheese dishes, cute stuff and animals especially cats, and sleeping (its just nice feeling comfy).

Dislikes: I dont like loud noises, sudden happenings, and forced formalities between people which is the reason why i have a small group of friends but we are all very close. I also dont like reptiles and amphibians they make my skin itch.

Some other facts: Im a bit meticulous as in i keep my home organized and clean. Its to the point where i have specific clothes for wearing outside and inside and specific furniture i would sit on with outside clothes on. So im probably a lil ocd. Im also dealing with depression so im currently really trying to get back to all my hobbies and stop doing nothing productive as it makes me feel bad.

What i look for in a partner: I have severe trust issues so the first thing is if i can somewhat trust my partner to be comfortable around him to show my true nature. I would also prefer someone who is not overly loud. Because of my trust issues im a bit insecure so i would be constantly quietly analyzing my partner for any slip ups or lies so it would be nice to have someone transparent or someone who is similar to me. I also enjoy talking about deep topics so it would be nice to have someone who can also share their own thoughts and insights. I definately would like me and my partner to before starting a relationship lay down in front of each other what we want in our relationship so communication is very crucial to me. I dont show publicly much physical affection, i only do that privately so i would like a guy who respects that.

I think that's all and its hopefully enough information. Thank you so much for your work <3

It seems to me, you've captured the heart of...

Jin Kamurai!

Let's be real, this relationship will be a hella slow burn, but I assure you, it will be worth it. You did not appreciate being used as a servant, and that kind of surprised him. He may have been slightly annoyed at first, but still intrigued. Jin will have to set aside his pride to get to know you better, and you would need to let your guard down a bit. And when you do, he will so down bad for you. He wouldn't know when it happened, but it happened. And who could blame him?

Your quiet nature is definitely a step up from the yappers he would overhear in Frostheim when he'd deign to exit his chambers. He also appreciates how well read you are, so he'd love to have deep conversations with you. He's also pretty well-read on a lot of art as someone who comes from money, so he'd be more than happy to share insights on whatever you like.

Though it may not seem like it at first glance, he's quite emotionally vulnerable, so your empathy and tough love would really benefit him. Of course, that's not to say you'd be a therapist (he can pay for one), more so a part of his much-needed support system. A friend in need is a friend indeed. He would also be there for you if you're struggling with your mental health. He'd help you find a therapist while being your rock as well.

Jin would respect your boundaries, seeing as you like a clean space, so he'd ask Tohma to clean up after him. He also understands you like to give and receive affection in private. He does as well, so any cuddles, kisses, whatever will happen in the confines of his chambers.

So if you give this relationship time to marinate, this can bloom into something beautiful

........................................................

You have also captured the heart of...

Azul Ashengrotto!

Hear me out: even if he is cunning, he does have a level of integrity he must uphold as a business owner. That aside, he greatly values trust and loyalty in close relationships, so once he's seen you're trustworthy and he can be vulnerable around you, he would be a devoted partner.

Azul is highly intelligent and well-read, which makes him a great conversationalist for discussing history, philosophy, or stories. He’d love to share ideas with you.

While he can be a bit dramatic in business scenarios, Azul is not overly loud in personal settings and respects boundaries, making him compatible with your preference for calmness and respect for physical affection. And he'd appreciate how meticulous you are and your eye for detail, as he likes structure and order also.

Azul knows all too well about mental struggles, so when you feel comfortable enough in your relationship, he'd do anything to help ease that. He can set aside some money for a therapist but he'll still be your rock. And since you're so empathetic, he'll appreciate you being there for him.

This relationship is gonna take some patience for it to bloom into something beautiful, and when it does, it will be totally worth it.

[doubleddenden]

time for gen 4 on the starter review

the Sinnoh Starters are, to me, are probably the last truly amazing trio of starters where all three are purposely fantastic design wise- at least, by their final evolutions. At first glance, they don't really have much going for them in terms of cohesion other than a shared yellow in their color palette, and I'd say a slightly less saturated color palette if we compare to previous gens, and they may not appeal to everyone right away- but by the time they finish evolving? Good god, some of the best designs in the entire franchise. As for their base forms, each have their own level of being iconic for a variety of reasons that I'd say is only outmatched by the gen 1 starters themselves- at least, looking at how the fans perceives them. Each of the base forms has different types of obsessed fans, to the say the least.

easily a 9/10 if we look at their final evos alone.

now BREAK IT DOWN *starts sobbing uncontrollably*

First up, Turtwig, the second turtle starter. First off, lets get this boy a certified *friend* sticker, because that is a genuine little guy right there. Second, let's admire the little dude. His head is big and his jaw is chompin size, and look at those little feets of his. God. What a good little boy. Onto actual critiquing, the color palette used is an excellent mix of I'd call "earth tones," fitting for how its line is basically meant to embody the earth itself. I got nothing else for this guy except that I love him. 9/10, something is a little off but I can't touch on what.

Okay, despite what some poketubers might say, Grotle is not a bad design whatsoever imo. I think it's not as good as Turtwig or Torterra, but there's a unique charm to it at as well- so long as you're looking at it from the right angle, which as we've discussed before in previous posts, can make or break a Pokemon. Still, I dig that Grotle kind of dips into some dinosaur to help supplement it, I think I'm particularly seeing a little bit of an ankylosaurus in the face and body. The shrubs on the back are a nice touch and are connected to branches- sort of like with Ivysaur to Bulbasaur, so too does Grotle's back seem to blossom forth some type of plant life. I think it's a fine design, although I do think that perhaps the yellow would be better replaced by a darker brown. 7/10.

Followers from my other posts may remember a post I made regarding Torterra- how it has got to be one of the most HORRIFYING pokemon to be turned into if you're a PMD protagonist (basically imagine being a regular human and turned into a slow, heavy tortoise that is immortal, cannot die unless it is cold, and you can drown super easily and not be able to move very far while other Pokemon just... grow up on your back). That's not what this post is about- in fact, some misconstrued and thought I was hating on the guy. Absolutely not, in fact, Torterra is one of the COOLEST grass starters ever, and grass pokemon in general. Torterra is basically a better Venusaur imo, it just gets way less love and was done ABSOLUTELY DIRTY in the anime.

The colors are fantastic, with each color helping the other to stand out and pop in some way or another. The design is also just immaculate, it's dangerous looking in a very fun way, and doesn't sacrifice any of the edge or cool factor for something stupid like certain later gen pokemon do. Torterra's concept of representing the world- essentially being a "world turtle"- is executed excellently in the fact that its back has grown from bare soil, to sprouted saplings, and now a full on biome. Again, it pulls from more dinosaur elements into its design as well, which is always a welcome plus. An easy 9/10.

The Turtwig line in general is pretty easy to love and find cool, and you'd be very hard pressed to find a single schmuck brave enough to say they dislike Torterra. Gen 4 in general has really amazing Pokemon design and adds just the right amount of edge and coolness to most of its pokedex, and this line is certainly no exception. Sure, ice types absolutely cripple this line, it's a little slow, and there might be better choices for a grass or ground type from Sinnoh- but I don't really care about that. If you love Turtwig, Grotle, or Torterra, you can easily make it work with the rest of your team. Honestly, I just want a grass starter to look this cool again so badly. 9/10 overall.

MMMMM.... Monke....

Okay, so let's get it out of the way- This Pokemon line has had one of the BEST character arcs in the entire Pokemon anime. From trash to treasure, I tell you, even coming back to hog some spotlight in Journeys. The absolute GOAT of Ash's fire starters, for sure, with a story that pretty surpasses Charizard in terms of execution, although not in feats.

... *that being said*, on a design critique perspective... Not really my favorite. I really dislike how disproportionately big the head is for its tiny body, and the colors aren't really enough for me- maybe if they were to have brought in the blue eye-shadow and some gold or white a little sooner, I'd be more impressed. I think as a kid, I simply picked it purely because it was a fire type, and thankfully I was rewarded for my choice down the road. I guess it's not terrible, but I certainly prefer other monkeys. Maybe if they gave it a tail like its evolutions. 5/10. Ash's Chimchar gets bumped to an 8, though. We respect the little guy.

And respect we continue. Monferno fixes a lot of gripes I have with Chimchar, and thankfully he's a quick evolution away at level 14. I did think it was... lazy? I guess? That they made it a second fire/fighting type, but I reckon if Combusken and Blaziken leaned more towards the fire, Monferno and Infernape leaned more towards the fighting. Regardless, it's a fun design that really fixes up a lot of Chimchar's failings, like sizing up the body to its head size, adding in more colors and a tail, this is truly where the monke begins to start shining. The feet are... weird, sure, but overall a vast improvement, and probably my favorite middle evolution of the fire fighting trio and the sinnoh starters. 8/10.

MMMMMM MONKE!!!!! THAT'S WHY HE'S THE GOAT!!!!!

I'm gonna go ahead and spoil the fact that he's an easy 9/10 design, and arguably the last good fire starter (design wise) until Hisuian Typhlosion and Skeledirge. Just LOOK AT HIM! What an amazing blend of dark oranges, reds, golds, whites, blues, the flaming head also invokes serious protagonist energy- and definitely channels that Sun Wukong energy, really only missing a cloud to ride on. He's a bit on the short side- I was initially surprised by just how... short he is. Still, he is a short KING. This is arguably the best of the Sinnoh trio, the best of the fire/fighting trio, and the best fire type in Sinnoh (being fair, he only has Magmortar, Rotom, Heatran, and Arceus as competition). Close Combat, Flare Blitz- this bro is not here for a long time, he is here for a GOOD TIME.

And I think we all know that I'd be an idiot to not bring up Ash's. THE BLUE FLARE BLITZ! THE BLAZE! THE REVENGE AGAINST A SHIT TRAINER! THE FINAL FIGHT AGAINST ELECTIVIRE! That is how you glow up! He didn't need a special form for that, that was hard work and sheer, raw, badassery! That definitely contributes to why I love this pokemon lol. Like I said, 9/10.

Someone will probably see that I did not give Chimchar the friend status- that's because we give it to Infernape instead, and not just a friend, but a BRO status. That is someone we respect on a whole other level and love to see him get stronger.

The Chimchar line is a choice that will reward the trainer if you put the time in as far as the designs go. In terms of power, you really cannot go wrong with this guy either. This singular Pokemon line is beloved by fans for many reasons, but the anime certainly aids to it. 8/10 collectively.

Onto Piplup- I feel like most of the vocal internet side will say this is their favorite of the Sinnoh starters, but I do think a large portion of that comes from people who either only watched the anime or simply weren't looking at what it evolves into. I certainly didn't give it the time of day myself until a few years back, and I've come to appreciate it a bit more. The anime certainly helps sell it as a loveable little asshole, not even having mercy on a baby Cyndaquil. It's definitely a friend, but more specifically a nephew or niece you entertain a bit or a little brother you like to tease a little.

Design wise, I like it enough, not really my favorite but it's not bad either, the big head definitely detracts a little for me. The colors are a nice blend of blues and whites, although that... whatever that back thing is is kinda weird. I'd much rather it be a back flipper or tail feather or something. Still, it's got this undeniable cute factor that you can't really ignore. 7/10

Prinplup... I'm not gonna lie, it's a little worse and definitely my least favorite of the middle Sinnoh starters. It is definitely a better water bird than Quaxwell, in my opinion, but only slightly. The colors are certainly a nice palette, and I do like that the head is smaller- but its a little *too* small now in comparison to the rest of the body. I do appreciate it being more penguin shaped than Piplup, though. 6/10.

NOW we're getting to the best of the line, Empoleon. I didn't initially like it as a kid, but as I've gotten older, I really dig it for a lot of reasons, including its mostly black color scheme with blue as the accentuating color rather than the main one. Water/Steel is an interesting type combo that... I don't think has been repeated since, which is insane considering we're close to 20 years past its initial introduction. I used to wonder why it wasn't part ice- it's a penguin after all- but now I understand that it's steel type BECAUSE it lives in icy areas- or, as icy as Sinnoh and Hisui can be, I guess (it can be snowy, but polar?). Piplup was cute, Prinplup was dorky, and now we're at the regality and badassery of Empoleon, which rounds up the evolution chain nicely. I even appreciate how it's a little taller than expected- I'm still taller, as it's at 5'7, but as a kid that would definitely fit my mental image of an "emperor" penguin, which i thought were 6 feet tall lol. The inspirations for Infernape and Torterra are little more clear and mythical in nature, but Empoleon clearly has an emperor's vibe about it, while the head decoration could be a nod to Neptune's trident. Overall a fun design, and evidently the anime thinks so too since it keeps coming back so often, even to Kukui's team. 8/10.

The Piplup line is one of those lines that has its very rabid fans- but mostly by people that consume cute things and probably don't care for what comes next. That's not bad, mind you, but I do think Empoleon is the stronger design of the bunch, just speaking from my own perspective. I do feel that other water types are designed better, but it is also not the worst it could possibly be either and has a pretty banging move set as well, and recently got some love in a new hidden ability. The imagery of a spoiled prince becoming a regal ruler is also appreciated, all things said and done. A solid 8 for the potential alone.

Gen 5 next

[velvet-dusk]

echo - outtake

(This little scene is an outtake from a fic I'm working on polishing. It didn't fit, because the flow of the conversation meandered pretty far from the way I needed the scene to go, and eventually I cut this section entirely and replaced it with one that worked better. But I liked it enough to want to share it, even though it's short enough that I'm probably not going to post it on AO3. Shadowbringers spoilers.)

Once it had become clear that G’raha had fumbled and was continuing to fumble his summoning spell, he had told himself sternly that the Scions were not his friends. Not because he had any reason to dislike them—far from it!—but because he knew them far better than they knew him, and moreover he had stolen them from their rightful lives. No matter how useful their skills, no matter how generously they offer their help, the fact remains that he had done each and every one of them a painful disservice by bringing them to the First.

After their return from the ruins of Amaurot, though—after the second return of the night—G’raha is startled to realize that the Scions of the Seventh Dawn seem to regard him as… a friend?

“Of course we do,” says Thancred matter-of-factly, as the two of them examine one of the Crystarium’s shield generator nodes. Thancred may be no mage, but the generators are also partially mechanical, and with the Facet of Forging staff busy working on some project they refuse to tell G’raha about, he’s the next best choice for repairing fiddly machinery in the entire city. “Our inauspicious arrivals aside—” G’raha winces. “—you were doing what you needed to in order to defend the people under your care. We all understand that. Indeed, we all respect that.”

“I’m surprised to hear you dismiss your arrival so quickly,” says G’raha.

“Me, of all people?” asks Thancred with a shrewd sidelong glance, and G’raha’s ears go flat with embarrassment. “I won’t pretend it was an easy thing to get over. But, well, I like to think that all of us, I’m on the more pragmatic side of things. It was the right choice, and that’s what matters in the end. Wrench, please.”

G’raha hands over the wrench. “Knowing that someone is in the right and thinking fondly of them for it are two different things.”

“They are,” Thancred agrees, and smacks something in the generator’s guts with the head of the wrench. G’raha yelps in protest, but then the generator buzzes to life, and Thancred grins and tosses the wrench back. G’raha fumbles the catch and has to duck down to pick it up. “But the first can lead to the second. And luckily for you, it has. Though, if I may offer a word of advice?”

“Of course,” says G’raha, slotting the wrench back into its rightful place in the toolkit. 

“Y’shtola in particular dislikes feeling like a piece on the chessboard rather than a player. If, in the future, you ever come up with a scheme that you think might involve her, ask her for assistance in the planning stage and not a moment later, even if you think she won’t be interested, or won’t be able to help. She may have forgiven you for this one, but she’s better at holding grudges than I am.” Said with a playful wink, it would be easy to dismiss as a joke. But G’raha can tell that it’s a real warning—and, also, a real invitation, to be a part of the group and its various social dynamics, rather than an outsider looking in.

“I shall,” says G’raha, with sincere gratitude.

[thecandywrites]

Monster March 2025- Day 9- Giant

Yes I know I'm a couple days behind, but I'll catch up, I promise. I'm actually quite proud of myself for getting this far with so many handicaps, (I had a stroke, a brain aneurysm, and Seritonin Toxicity, all within three weeks of each other, all before March, all three could have killed me and I'm...still...by a miracle...alive. I'm pretty sure my desire to do this was what kept me living.)

Huge thanks to @borealwrites for their Monster March 2025 Masterlist. This is also the third year I WILL. DO. EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. SO HELP ME GOD. I have a plan. I may be a little behind, but thankfully I wrote a lot of this before all that...bullshittery went down.

Monster March 2025 Day 8- Minotaur

Laundry Day 

River was sleeping on the couch while Rane was happy and content to move her laundry from the washer to the dryer in their apartment before he started another load, using her favorite laundry products to do so. And then once that was going, began to fold the fresh laundry that had just come out of the dryer before it could wrinkle. 

But as he was folding her laundry, he couldn’t help but go online and buy her new articles of clothing that would fit her, or perhaps that didn’t have holes or stains and especially, new scrubs. Really nice ones that would feel just as good as they would look on her, now that he could see the sizes for himself, the numbers of the sizes, didn’t mean anything to him, just how they would fit her, if they fit her right, and she felt comfortable and confident wearing them, that’s all that mattered to him. Plus, he knew from his own mother and sisters that women’s conventional fast fashion clothing was measured by voodoo practically. 

And River needed some socks that would match, because he had 7 socks of hers that didn’t have a match to them yet and he was just hoping and praying they would be in the other loads of laundry as he eyed the overflowing IKEA bags that were  being used as temporary laundry baskets that lined his hallway outside the small but functional laundry room in the apartment they now shared and called their own. 

He went ahead and put her things away into the dresser she had picked out but that he had gotten just for her. In fact, putting it together had been fun too, that whole trip to IKEA had been so fun, only because he had gone with her, getting a sense of her style and her likes and dislikes along the way. 

Rane found himself smiling when he was able to put her things away neatly into her dresser for her. He finally felt like once she moved in here with him, that this place finally felt like home. It had always been ‘his place’ before, but now with her in it, it was ‘their home’. It had gotten its own make-over thanks to her and it had never felt more welcoming or warm or cozy before, now that she was in it with him and that it was a place for them both. And the thought made him broadly grin. A picture he had taken of them together was freshly printed, and freshly framed, sitting on the dresser too and glancing at it, that grin became a happy, contented smile. 

He was so happy, he wasn’t used to being this genuinely happy, all the time, he was so happy that after that first meeting with her, when fate, practically brought them together. He had taken a chance, taken his shot of a lifetime, never been so happy he did and that, pun intended, hit the bullseye. 

He had no idea love could grow that quickly, or that it would take a hold of him so strongly. Or stay so loyally ever since and he had no idea how easy a relationship could be. It was somehow effortless, despite his great efforts to make this as successful as possible, and a joy and the most rewarding thing in his life. Only because River made it so. She was as no nonsense in just about every aspect of her life as she was about her professional life, granted, her relationships with her family, that’s where things could get complicated because she came from a big family, and it could get complicated, trying to keep track of everything and everyone in it, but that was normal, he supposed. But otherwise, they just clicked, perfectly, instantly and had off the charts chemistry that was so quickly morphing from lust to love, it wasn’t even funny. He was already trying to figure out what her ring size was and what kind of engagement ring she wanted. He was that head over horns, over hooves in love with her. 

And once he had proven himself worthy and trustworthy and a rock she could lean on and depend on- then the floodgates really opened and he never wanted them to close. He wanted to worship every inch of her, and had tried, on several occasions and would continue to do so as often as he could, as often as she wanted. She had taken him by the horns, both literally and figuratively, which was honestly, what he had always wanted and craved. She was honest and direct and communicated worth a damn, she had no problems speaking her mind and being open, honest and transparent, she was not into mind games, love games or anything like that. She had no time or patience or tolerance for that bullshit, and honestly, neither did he. She both demanded and earned every ounce of respect and he’d gore anyone who didn’t respect her in turn. 

She didn’t breadcrumb her love and affection like all his exes did, she expressed her love with everything she had, she gave it with her whole heart, soul and mind and gave all she had to give and didn’t hold anything back, and he found himself returning it in kind, and that’s how their relationship was as great as it was for being as ‘new’ as it was. 

He both felt like he was still in the honeymoon phase, but had somehow moved into ‘old married couple’ phase seamlessly. She was a real woman who knew who and what she was, she knew her worth, and didn't put up with shit from anyone, which he really respected and admired. And there was a sweet vulnerable side to her, that he treasured and did everything in his power to protect and never, ever betray. 

And, when she wasn’t working her ass off, the woman could cook! He had never thought, either his French, or Italian Grandmother’s cooking could be topped. But hers? Because she was Latina, the spiciness wasn’t just in her cooking or personality, it was in everything about her and he loved every bit of it and was trying to learn the dialects of Mexican and Cuban Spanish she spoke. Because one of her grandma’s was from Mexico City that ended up coming up to L.A. California, and the other was Cuban, from Miami that ended up moving up to New York. And her parents had met in med school. Her mom was a nurse too. And her dad was a Physical Therapist, which totally explained her medical background and one of her brothers was trying to become a pediatrician. 

After that first appointment, he had taken half the day off to get his place ready to cohabit with her, because he had known, just that instantly, that he had found the one. He knew instantly that they were going to be together, he knew instantly that he loved her and would continue to love her no matter what and do whatever it took to make her happy. He hadn’t taken but a few hours to move most of his wardrobe into the second bedroom’s closet that he had made an office. He had a cleaning service come in and give the place a very thorough deep clean. Removing any and every trace of any ex before River because while the apartment building itself was newly renovated, he needed to start fresh and on a clean slate with River. He put the best set of sheets he had on his bed, the real- thousand thread count pure Egyptian Cotton in a sateen weave. He had tossed them into the dryer to freshen up from being in his linen closet. He even set out the best towels, the best, everything he had, just for the off chance that she would come there and use it. And he had never been so grateful that he had, because she had come and did use it and appreciated it. It was time, effort and money well spent, because that cleaning service found several articles and items that past exes had left. And he disposed of all of it, because again, he needed a fresh and as clean of a slate he could get with River. 

Because he only had to go to bring her home that night, after picking her up with a whole tray a 13x9 aluminum tray, stuffed full of several tacos of every flavor that his favorite taco truck had with several little cups of salsa and queso and extra cheese, extra lime wedges and she had devoured three quarters of that tray and drank a whole six pack of coronas with lime and tequila with it. And she had praised that it was the best date ever. When he finished off the tray after she was full. 

He then took her his apartment and quite literally fucked her to sleep in his bed, she had cum twice, and didn’t even bother to clean herself up before she had practically passed out, in a state of bliss in his bed, but that didn’t mean he didn’t clean up the mess he had made and made sure she was comfortable and could rest easy. And in his bed which quickly became their bed, was where she slept until her next shift at the Velvet Spa the following morning, after he had at least made her breakfast and while she was at work, he went ahead and stocked his fridge and cabinets with her favorite foods, or at least the ingredients to make her favorite foods and others to try to see if he could find new favorites, and of course, practically a case of condoms. He did always aim to please, but once it was clear that she was clean, as was he, sexually and that she was on birth control, the case of condoms, never needed to be opened, extra bottles of lube? Those needed to be purchased though. And then she returned and stayed every night since, bringing more and more of her things with each trip, which was fine and welcome by him.

Rane had never had such strong, practically primal urges to not only provide but care for a partner before. Every other relationship was always so… casual or so..passively informal, or at the very least impersonal. No strong feelings, no strong attachments, nothing beyond ‘she’s cute’ and ‘he’s scary but well off and my ticket to the soft, easy life with minimal effort.’ Which he really had not liked, at all. It made him feel used and unappreciated and cheapened and it made him feel like, they were more in love with his apartment and his paycheck than they ever even liked him as a person. And never did love him. 

But with River? It was the opposite, she could care less about the apartment, or the paycheck or anything like that, all she cared about was him, the fact that he was a self sufficient adult who could and would do dishes and laundry and help cook and clean up and sweep and mop and vacuum. And that’s what mattered the most to her. The fact that she didn’t have to mother him, he was an equal partner, in this relationship. They both took but they also, both gave too. And they gave as good as they took, if not better. 

And River proved her love for him, with every word, touch and gesture towards him in their relationship and how they viewed and treated each other. The second biggest thing she wanted to know about him, was his family, his siblings, his parents, his grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins and his relationships with them and the family dynamics. Because she too felt that a person was more than just them on their own, that their family and the dynamics in those families played huge roles in a person’s personality and mental makeup and how that family communicated and what communication styles they used. And he was grateful that he could answer her questions honestly. And that was something that his exes never cared enough to ask about or to know. But were actually key in understanding themselves and each other better. 

And they both showed their own genuine attraction and affection for each other. And she had said ‘I love you’ first, to him, not in the throws of passion, but when she woke up in his bed, in his arms, a sleepy, dreamy smile on her face and sweet good morning kiss, that honestly, started a chain reaction of the best morning sex they had ever had. And saying it back didn’t feel forced or a lie, it was true and honest and real. 

He loved her. 

She loved him. 

That’s all that mattered to them. The rest was just details. 

With River, everything was practically electric, immediate, practically spontaneous, strong, hard, fast, intense. It was a flood that he happily drowned in every moment of his existence since she came into his life. But, for as quickly as their relationship had progressed, it was just as solid and just as stable as Rane felt like his parent's relationship was. They didn’t even make it to that Friday before she was moving out of her dorm and moving in with him and now, was the nitty gritty, actually washing all of her laundry over that weekend. 

And of course, giving her any and every opportunity to catch up on much needed sleep. He had picked her up from work, after she got a 2 hour, full body massage and she had fallen asleep in the SUV before they were out of the parking garage and he had carried her all the way to the apartment before she woke up and tried to sit on the couch to fold the laundry he had done before he left for work that day and she had picked up a freshly laundered throw blanket, and had tried to fold it before sleep beckoned her once more. 

Poor thing was overworked and sleep deprived. And he had half a mind to tell Bianca to go ahead and hire anyone who could hack the job so that River wouldn’t have to overexert herself. But at the same time, she wasn’t the only one working extra hard. So was he, he had been working, at least mentally, ever since he met her to be everything he could be for her, everything she wanted and needed. And because she was so fiercely independent, it made everything he could do for her, that much more precious of an honor. Including folding every article of her clothing that he could. 

Who knew, that such a mundane, task could be so intimate. 

River was, of course, determined to finally pry her favorite mugs and other dishes from her roommates but her dishes only took up one small box, everything else was clothes and toiletries and other personal items. Honestly, she didn’t need much else because Rane had already furnished his apartment with everything he could think of that she would want or need otherwise, including a vanity for her jewelry, makeup and hair tools to do her hair, that he had put in his office, on the other wall from his desk. Which, she thought was a sweet gesture but besides moving her things into it, didn’t really need to use that much. But the thought and effort behind it, made all the difference in the world to River.  

But, otherwise, all of her clothes came dirty, which normally she would be so embarrassed for, but since Rane knew why, he was not about to judge and only wished to help. He had been on his own for a while and knew how to do house chores and today, he wanted to see how many loads of laundry he could get done while she took a nap, because every single thing he could do for her was one less thing she would have to do for herself later. So, when they weren’t working, he was just trying to wash all the clothes she had before they would be put away or hung up on the new set of hangers he had gotten for her on her side of the master closet in the master bedroom.  The dishes she brought were easy enough to load into the dishwasher and honestly, the mugs, were so funny and hilarious and were now put away in the cabinet. But all of her clothes, some of them, had not seen a washer in months. And smelled of dank dorm room, crammed in a closet, that Rane hoped and prayed that Lysol Laundry Sanitizer would get out, and that scent booster beads would replace. 

But the more laundry of hers that he did, the more he could start to decipher more of what her personal sense of style was. Plus, now he knew what sizes she would need because he had managed to, very subtly, get her body’s measurements so that he could order her anything from anywhere as long as he had those blessed, amazing measurements to work from and he had half a mind to commission a couture gown for her, something she could slip on and transform into the goddess he knew she was for social events at his work, if he wasn’t sure his co-workers would try to steal a gem like her away themselves. 

Plus, his parents were tailors and owned a suit shop. So he grew up appreciating and learning how to properly care for good clothes that fit well from an early age. It was how he was able to feel comfortable in board rooms with millionaires and billionaires and look practically indistinguishable from them- because he had carefully crafted his look to blend in seamlessly in his career. And he simply used other people's assumptions to his benefit to either do what needed to get done or get what he needed or wanted from them. He had mastered the art of a stern face, imposing yet still firm, and staring his opponents down, was all the “intimidation” he had ever needed to do to work. Because he was usually dressed similarly to them. And he knew that while money talked, real wealth whispered. And it was why he was usually understated, simple, clean lines, both in personal grooming and in his apartment. And why most assumed he came from a wealthy family, even though he didn’t. And it was actually a huge relief to River to find out, because the last thing she wanted was for anyone to assume that money had anything to do with their relationship. He had and paid his bills and so did she, for now at least. She had asked what she could offer to help pay for rent and he had refused to give her an answer. It was one less thing he wanted her to worry about. So she tried to pitch in and pay for groceries here and there. To try to again, establish and keep an equal partnership in their relationship. 

But, thanks to his corporate job and his easily learned and replicated money management skills he had acquired, he had bought the building his parent’s shop was in, and gave it to them as an anniversary present, so that they could keep the business running smoothly. And his sisters ran it otherwise and his best suits, his best looks, came from them. And they would have a field day with River when they would get to meet her in person, next weekend. When they would be going to family dinner at his grandmother’s house. 

But River, she was all color and chaos and vibrancy and with her, Rane felt like he was finally breathing and living and actually enjoying life again, only because that life was now shared with River. And River, despite her schedule, brought her bright and fun energy and helped him to reclaim some of his own. 

Plus, she was latina and so he was happy when his apartment now had a lot more color to it. It had personality, just like her. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

He came back and saw her sleeping in a rather uncomfortable position on the couch before he just picked her up and carried her to bed and tucked her into bed. But once he returned to the living room to get her phone, it rang in his hand. 

And from the picture of River with an older woman, and seeing “Abuela” calling. It was obviously her grandmother. 

“Hi, Abuela, it’s River’s boyfriend Rane, River is taking a nap.” He answered before the older woman seemed to pause before speaking in a string of Spanish that he couldn’t make out a word of.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t catch any of that, I’m sorry, I don’t speak any Spanish.” Rane apologized with a wince before she was yelling in the background before the phone was handed to a small child. 

“Hello?” He asked. 

“Hola, so, you’re Riviera’s Matador?” The small boy asked as Rane couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Yeah, I guess I am.” Rane confirmed. 

“Riviera needs to bring you on Sunday for family dinner and bring queso blanco.” He offered. 

“We will do that. What time?” Rane asked. 

“Normal time.” He answered before he hung up. 

“Great.” Rane huffed as he came and plugged her phone into the charger and smiled softly at her in the bed. Hell, even if they turned it into a proper bull fight, he had a feeling, she’d be able to get him out before they took the kill strike. Plus, he did want to meet her family, as much as he wanted her to meet his. 

His huff, through his nose was enough to wake her up before she opened her eyes and looked at him, kneeling next to the bed, smiling broadly and sleepily at the sight, the dimples in her cheeks still the cutest things ever. 

“Hey, I thought I was in the couch?” She asked even though she pulled the covers up and snuggle deeper into bed. 

“You were, you were just at an odd angle and you would hurt your neck, and you just got a massage and I didn’t want it to be undone by you sleeping uncomfortably on the couch.” He answered softly. 

“You spoil me.” She smiled sleepily but looked at him adoringly all the same. 

“No, not even close. There’s a difference between protecting you from unnecessary pain, and what you would call “spoiling” which, for me, means- granting every fleeting desire, no matter how superfluous.” Rane gently shook his head as he leaned one elbow on the knee that was up and laid his arm around her in bed to stroke down her back. 

But her hum in response and her grin growing broader, told him that she wasn’t going to argue further. 

“However, you did just miss a call from your Abuela.” He noted. 

“Oh shit.” She grabbed her phone and frowned as she didn’t see a voicemail. 

“Yeah, sorry, I just answered the phone when she called, apparently you’re supposed to bring queso blanco tomorrow at the usual time…?” He informed her as she gave him a puzzled look before she pressed a button and called her grandmother back and put up a finger to keep him from talking before the phone call was picked up and River was speaking in Spanish, so fast, he couldn’t really understand much more than “Matador”, so she was talking about him to her family but he couldn’t quite read her expression as she tried to get a word in but just laid there and listened to her grandmother talk on the other side before she seemed resigned. 

“Ci. Queso blanco, Matador, muy bien Abuela.” River offered before she said her goodbyes. 

“I’m sorry.” River offered. 

“For what? You haven’t done anything?” Rane returned with a look of confusion. 

“For what is going to happen. My whole family wants to meet you. And instead of being one bull against one Matador, you will be one bull against an arena full of them.” She sighed tiredly and put her phone down and rubbed at her eyes. 

“So…I should wear armor and chainmail or…?” He tried to joke and tease, which worked because she started to laugh and dropped her hands from her face and reached out and pulled him over her to hug him. 

“No. You’ll be fine, you’ll just get asked the same questions over and over again, like what is your full name, where did you come from, where does your family come from, what are their names, what do they do for a living, what do you do for a living, and word of advice, don’t tell them everything, because they don’t need to know every detail of you or your life, but they will want to know enough about you to feel like they know you.” She warned. 

“I look forward to it.” He nodded. 

“Just…don’t go in there looking like a million bucks because then they’ll assume you have a million bucks, just, like jeans and a t- shirt, should be fine.” She encouraged. 

“I have jeans, and t-shirts.” He reassured her. 

“That fit you like a second skin like all your suits do?” She raised her eyebrows in surprise. 

“Better.” He winked and clicked his teeth which got her to giggle. 

“Just…don’t go running for the hills, not until you try the guacamole and the tamales and the al pastor, and the suardo.” She encouraged. 

“Suardo is slow cooked beef isn’t?” He asked. 

“It is, my abuela Maria, makes the best suardo, along with a chili con carne that is muy magnifico deliciouso.” River explained as she did a chef’s kiss and pretended to lick her fingertips. 

“I won’t leave without you.” He promised. 

“Perfect.” River beamed happily.

[maniacwatchestheworld]

So I've been working on a thing lately! I kinda sort of want to run a ttrpg campaign that would kinda sorta capture the spirit of Pokemon: Legends Arceus, but that takes place in Meiji Hoenn instead of Sinnoh! I've accomplished quite a bit on the setting, and now I need to design some regional and era-specific variants of some of these Pokemon! So here are some designs that I thought would be pretty easy to pump out!

On the left I designed some regional water-typed variants of Ekans and Arbok because like... Why aren't there any water snakes in Pokemon...????? They are water/poison types and are much much friendlier than Kantonian Ekans and Arbok! They both have rattles to ward off any critters that they don't want to bite, have bright belly colorations, and the belly pattern on Arbok's belly is inspired by butterflies that have eye-shaped patterns on their wings that look like eyes to ward off predators! All of this is to scare other critters away so that they don't have to hurt them when they're feeling threatened! Because when you really think of it, it's actually kinda nice and generous of rattlesnakes to make a sound before biting you as a warning. So this is a much friendlier regional variant that doesn't actually want to hurt anything that it doesn't need to for survival! Also this version of Arbok is indeed skinnier on the top half of its body than Arbok. You know. For fun. :p

On the right I decided to design an organic version of Iron Valiant. I've been thinking of using the name "Glaivant" for it, but I don't know if it rolls off the tongue quite as well as Gardevoir and Gallade as Pokemon species names. >.< In any case, these evolutions are exclusively non-binary/gender unknown! In this setting I wanted to create this evolution variant to kind of make a statement about gender and sexuality before colonization. One of the main conflicts that I want to explore in this setting is that of modernization vs tradition and what is lost when you pursue solely one or the other. In real life Japan, they didn't have the same perceptions of gender roles, and gender and sex in general as western traditions do. The idea of people existing in ways that didn't match stereotypical gender norms of the time, and people and/or creatures existing outside of ordinary gender confines was not unheard of or even necessarily particularly unusual before Japan decided to modernize and westernize itself! Gender existentialism was just not nearly as relevant in Japan before it largely decided to colonize itself! These facts reflect quite obviously in art that was created at the time and in art that comes out of Japan today as well, and Pokemon is no exception! And so I wanted to reflect that with this Pokemon design in this pre-modern Pokemon setting!

Lots and LOTS of impassioned gender ramblings below the cut. >.< (Sorry, it got long FAST because I have A LOT of feelings on Gardevoir and gender. >.< )

In fact that was one of the reasons that I genuinely quite loved Gardevoir when it was created and came out all the way back in gen 3! And it's why I've always had quite a strong dislike of Gallade. Because to me, when I realized that Gardevoir could be female OR male with an even 50/50 gender distribution as a kid, it really made me open my eyes to just how bullshit western ideas of gender were! Because the things about Gardevoir's design that made it look feminine upon first glance to a western audience could be interpreted as masculine from a different perspective! Its "dress" could also read as a kimono. Its "hair" could be seen as a helmet. Where "pretty lady in a dress" was seen by many "young noble Japanese warrior" was an equally valid way to look at the Pokemon depending on its gender and your cultural perspective! It was masculine in a way that is very subversive to western gender stereotypes, and also Japanese in a very interesting way that said something interesting about the culture Pokemon was created in! And while I couldn't express that in words as a kid, I LOVED Gardevoir for it!

And then Gallade came out! And I hated it! Because literally the only thing that I could think of for why Gallade was created was because too many people complained about how girly Gardevoir was while also being an incredibly cool Pokemon and so the boys wanted a Gardevoir too. You know. When the boys already had a Gardevoir for boys. Aka Gardevoir as it was. And so I have always disliked Gallade for this. Also its design looks tacky in some ways, and the fact that people kinda just see Gardevoir as "female Gallade" to the point where some people will only refer to any Gardevoir and the species as a whole by she/her pronouns instead of gender neutral pronouns, even though you can still very VERY much evolve male Kirlia into Gardevoir, has always infuriated me. I thought that Gardevoir's gender ambiguity was SO COOL as a kid! But then that was taken away from me when Gallade was created and could ONLY be male, and to me everything that anyone ever does with Gardevoir and Gallade since then has just reinforced stereotypical western gender norms...

... At least until they created Iron Valiant. Because just... I LOVE Iron Valiant so so SO much! It's SO cool, and SO gender, and the best part about it to me is that it's getting back to what made me absolutely LOVE Gardevoir in the first place by being a species that is entirely genderless/non-binary while presenting as both male AND female at the same time! And so I wanted to make a version of it that was organic and actual flesh and blood like the ones that came before! Because I genuinely think that it would make a LOT of sense and be excellent if it turns out that there WAS a genderless evolution of the Ralts line, historically speaking, but that it went extinct after Poke-Japan modernized, westernized, and started practicing gender in a similar way to the west. This genderless evolution of Kirlia, while rare, was just something that happened sometimes and no one really thought it was weird or commented on it because gender wasn't really thought of in that way before western conceptions of gender came along. And it was perfectly natural for some Ralts to grow up and evolve into this variation and was in fact a sign of great strength. They were admired for their strength and abilities over everything else, and the fact that it didn't fit into male or female in terms of gender/physical sex was maybe a little strange to think about, but perfectly natural! But then western conceptions of gender came along, tried to force this species into a box, and for that, it went extinct. By embracing the western world and abandoning their old thinking of gender and sex, sadly that left no room for this unique and powerful Pokemon to exist, so it went extinct. It's one of the ways that embracing modernization and abandoning the past and the cultural identity that made the area unique causes irreparable harm. In a way, this Pokemon's cultural background and lack of gender was what made it strong in the first place! It's not a Pokemon that can exist as long as a western and essentialist view of gender reigns supreme over the world. And it's a genuine tragedy that it just doesn't exist in the modern world... But it COULD exist again if the traditions that don't view gender as this essential, black and white thing, returns at large! Let's just hope that we aren't all robots before that point happens! And in this setting of Meiji Hoenn? It's here. This species is surviving and thriving. And no one really thinks that its unusual for it to be here and for it to no longer have any gendered sex characteristics because that's just how it naturally has been and doesn't really warrant much comment.

[roppongi-division]

Zakari's Thoughts on Suginami Division

Ryuko Umemoto

"So this is the Yakuza guy that turned into an animator? Huh. ...Is it weird to say that he reminds me a bit of Samatoki? I mean, they kinda look the same if you glance at them from a different angle. But... I guess I shouldn't say that around him. I hear he and Samatoki don't get along all that well. ...Plus, I heard from Lucille he's also got some kind of grudge against the Kito-gumi as well. Sheesh, no offense to the guy, but I don't think it's wise to have so many enemies."

Maki Umemoto

"Ugh, I am so glad I only have Maki-sensei once a week, cause I really do not like his class. It's not that he's a bad teacher! But... well, for one thing, he almost always cancels class cause he can never work up the nerve to teach, much like Rosho-sensei. If that were all, it wouldn't be so bad. But every time he does teach, he always veers off topic and goes off on a tirade about the government. In every lesson! I think he made a mistake signing on to be a professor. Because the way he talks, he'd probably be better suited to be a politician or an activist."

"We get it, teach! You're not a fan of Chuohku, most people aren't either. But try to save your speeches and such for after class, okay? We come to your class to learn about the history of the world, not how much Chuohku is..." Zakari reaches off screen and grabs a notebook, opening it up to reveal his notes. "...'tearing down the globes of society by placating us and making us into slaves for them.'"

Shuu Edogawa

"...Man, I have to wonder if this guy accidentally committed some unforgiveable crime against my mom in a past life or something, because she absolutely despises him. Me, though, I actually find Shuu-chan kind of funny, really! I first met him after I was coming from a date with Lucille in Shizuoka. He was following me and her all throughout our date. I don't know if she noticed, but if she did, she didn't say anything."

"After I dropped her off, I led him on a merry chase throughout the city. I gotta say, for a short, scrawny guy in a suit, he could really move! Later, after I had thoroughly tired him out, I confronted him and asked him why he was following me. I wasn't mad; more curious than anything, really. Turns out someone had paid him to tail me, but he wouldn't say who. 'I'm a professional', he said. 'I can't give away client information.'"

"Most people would be upset after hearing something like that. Me, though, I was a bit flattered. I told him, I don't begrudge him for doing his job. But whoever paid him, I told him he should go back and request double, no, triple the rate, cause I wasn't going to make it easy for him. He understood, and with that, we both went our separate ways."

"We still meet each other now and then, and I even stop and have a talk with the guy. I don't know why my mom dislikes him, but he seems alright. ...Still, he should probably sign up for some karate or gym classes or something..."

Sazanka Zombeez

"I actually like this team name. 'Sazanka.' I don't know why, but I like that word. It sounds pretty, which is a given since its a kind of flower. 'Flower Zombies'... sounds like something you'd hear in a video game. As far as the team, itself, goes, I don't think they're bad. I don't know if we'll ever face them or not. But if we do, I'm going to have fun going up against Maki-sensei. We'll see if all of his speeches on the government have prepared his rapping!"

[lorillee]

I like to imagine Edgeworth thinks mine is a kindred spirit if a bit snooty while mine has to physically stop himself from snapping Edgeworth’s neck on sight

WAIT YOU WERE ACTUALLY TALKING ABOUT EDGEWORTH MINE BEEF..... Well its ok dont worry ive had time to sit down and type something out and now i have opinions. lets share. now the key information to keep in the back of our minds is that theyre obviously both orphans but edgeworth got adopted into old money while mine built himself into a nouveau rich. edgeworth for his part has never seemed particularly concerned with money - not to say that he doesnt buy nice things (see: his fancy sports car) but he doesnt really obsess over it, and especially after the whole Von Karma Soap Opera isnt really flaunting his adopted family's name around. mine however is someone whose entire life is anchored to his obsession with accumulating wealth and almost every decision he makes can be traced back to that desire in one form or another.

now of course how badly they would get along is definitely dependent on really at what point in edgeworth's life they meet. in terms of mine frankly we dont really know all that much about him before he swore up but honestly i feel like its not much of a stretch to say he's been spinning his wheels in the mud for years so at basically any point in which they wouldve met and been adults it wouldve played out the same for him - edgeworth, however, is a different story. if you're a holdover from my ace attorney days youve probably at least seen me reblog my ace attorney investigations 2 retrospective in which you can see. my extended thoughts on that game. but the most important thing to get out of it in terms of edgeworths development is that it really helps edgeworth reframe his mental image of his job as a prosecutor from a punitive one to a protective one. what edgeworth fundamentally wants to do is help people like how he desperately wanted someone to help him as a child and demonstrably will do this to great personal cost (see: Well the entirety of ace attorney investigations 2, LOL).

mine on the other hand is a deeply selfish person and when faced with people who were in a similar situation to him wants frankly to see them fail (see: bulldozing an orphanage). kiryu frustrates mine on a very fundamental level because his existence challenges mine's mindset that everyone is out for themselves and exclusively for themselves and orphans better than anyone else should understand this, and i think he would find similar fault in edgeworth who was an orphan and suffered a horrible injustice but instead came out of it wanting to help others instead of viewing them as competition and tearing them down.

with all this in mind i think mine would instantly clock edgeworth as coming from old money which obviously isnt untrue because he was raised in an old money household and because of his generally aloof and mildly arrogant nature, mine would instantly decide he hates the man. of course i think its more of a generally directed hatred than a personal one because edgeworth at first glance is a very easy person to dislike ill be honest with you Hes kind of annoying. that all being said if he learned more about edgeworth's history as an orphan + the insane lengths he has gone and will go to in order to help other people mine would hate him with a kind of vitriol rarely seen by man.

edgeworth however i think would meet mine and probably pretty quickly determine the kind of person mine is (extremely money driven, selfish, guy whod run you over back up twice and not really feel all that bad about it) because you KNOW he's met plenty of this brand of person having lived in the von karma household for a significant portion of his adolescent life and has gotten quite good at sniffing them out and instantly decide he does NOT care for this man. but neither of them are the sort of person to just go for the throat for a guy they just met so i think they would be extremely politely rich person passive aggressive with the most insane backhanded compliments you could think of and it would be so ugly and so insanely funny and id want to see it soooo bad

[goldenxglyphs]

BE MY VALENTINE | ACCEPTING

@edrick-rolling asked:

Name: Edrick Blight Age: 16 Do you like to cuddle?: Always ♡ Can we make-out?: if you want to? Hell yeah~ A night in or dinner out?: either but a night in with a movie is always fun Ice cream or chocolate covered strawberries?: Ok but how about some snow cones~? What makes you a good Valentine?: We've been besties for years!  Would you cook for me?: Just like I have been pretty much every week? You know it!! Would you let me cook for you?: Absolutely, I love your cooking~

"Now now you didn't think it would this easy did you? We have to check if your answers pass first."

Hunter couldn't help but chuckle at the request. He always thought the other witch was silly at times but it was also endearing. For just a moment he acted like he was sincerely considering his acceptance of this application. Hmming and Ahhing with each line.

"Okay...expected."

Cudding? Okay well he already knew Eddie's feelings on that. He took any chance to get the guard to toss the armor and rest and that was his favorite and most effective method.

"Interesting. I'll keep that in mind. "

Making out? Oh that's a confident answer. All while also tossing the ball into the Golden Guard's court. He didn't really see himself doing something like that but who knew? Things could change. He'll allow it for now.

"Oooh, negative 1 point on that one though. Guess you'll lose the perfect run achievement."

He'd much rather drag Eddie out with him to visit Palm Stings or maybe some place in Patellasburg. Most of his weeks were spent stuck in the castle so every moment outside of it was treasured. Still, its not like this would completely disqualify the green haired witch.

A soft snort may have betrayed his amusement in Eddie deciding to free style his answers. It was more surprising that it had taken him so long for that. Chocolate was okay and so was ice scream but after that one time the other had dragged him off to try snow cones for the first time, it quickly rose to being one of his favorite treats and Hunter didn't exactly make it a secret.

And then there was their history. It was only a couple of years but it was a good point. Someone he didn't know would've had the application tossed out without even a glance, maybe even burned. He was picky about those he allowed close to them and these questions weren't nearly enough information for him to even spare a glance in their direction.

"I guess I could give you a bonus point for that--"

Last but not least the cooking questions. Well he didn't really have to finish reading that. The lunches he brought for his long patrols on the weekends were greatly appreciated. No, that wasn't a good enough word. It didn't convey exactly how he felt about it. Cherish sounded much closer to the sentiment in mind.

And Hunter had a belief of returning the gesture. Violence was met with Violence, same with betrayal but that meant the same extended to kindness and generosity. So he had no issue at all cooking for Eddie, in fact nothing could stop him from doing that anyway. Jokes aside maybe it was just because they had been friends for so long but he doubted anyone could understand him the way the bard did.

It was touching to think that someone had put so much effort and thought into getting to know him, to learn his likes and dislikes, to make him feel safe. The smug smile softened, thoughts of all the times they had hung out in his down time or when patrol nights were slow. Yea, his choice was obvious from the very beginning, there was no other option.

""I wouldn't have anyone else as my Valentine, Bard Blight."

[lilacthebooklover]

Why People Don't Like Ozzy (and why they do like other characters)

Every fandom has its favourites, and that of KG2 isn't exempt– just look at all the content of Penny, Ted, Nugget and Felix lol. But if there's one character that Kindergarten fans don't often think or care about, it's Ozzy.

At first glance, it seems obvious why. He's pretty whiny and a big downer, instantly dislikes the protag, and doesn't really have any shown positive qualities. He talks constantly about his allergies and asthma, obsesses over his routine, is willing to strangle Protag without a second thought, and the player is actively encouraged to kill him in Ted's mission.

But really, Ozzy's just, well. A five-year-old. Out of the KG cast, he's the one who acts most his age: he's rude at times, very focused on himself, and sulks about his favourite toy being broken– and those are all traits you'd expect from a kindergartener. He's surrounded by more emotionally compelling and mature characters, making him seem babyish in comparison.

His fears about his asthma and allergies are honestly valid, considering that the world in which he lives contains people constantly trying to off each other. He knows he's not well-liked, that his science teacher would (and does) use his corpse as a cadaver, that he could literally die from either of these things being set off.

Leading on from that, is his apathy regarding killing the protag really that surprising? He, like all the other students, knows what happens when people are sent to the principal's office or Danner gets out his laser gun. It wouldn't be surprising if he's just accepted death as part of his routine by then, unbothered by and desensitised to it just like the other kids.

He has problems with change, as little kids often do, and it's entirely reasonable that he's so upset about his friends getting "transferred". He just lost everyone he cared about seemingly because of the new kids, so his immediate response is to dislike them. He has a right to be worried and angry about Madison & co disappearing, most likely having seen plenty of people die in his school, but there's nothing he can do but take it out on Protag. Heck, if the player gives him the battery, he's even willing to give him a chance at friendship, saying that maybe the new kids aren't all bad and asking if Kid wants to play with him.

So why do people not like Ozzy, but find favourites in other characters? Take Felix, for example (on whom this fandom is typically divided into 2 extremes: loving and despising). He kills his brother remorselessly, is willing to further disable a paralysed child, cares only for himself and constantly belittles everyone around him.

But Felix is also a really fun character. His motives are great to explore, his relationship with Ted equally so, his manner of speaking is wonderful and he has some really good lines (e.g. "the real treasure is the friends we buried alive along the way"). He's so pompous that it's funny, he's always a blast to watch, and there's a lot of potential for angst for him.

Ozzy only murders one person, but that's the player. He's an obstacle, not meant to be liked. Felix murders his twin, but there's a whole lot to read into with that. He's a likeable character with an enjoyable story, and he typically comes with ball-of-sunshine Ted.

Ted is easy to like. People are sympathetic towards him because of Cain's Not Able and his seemingly horrible father. He's nice to Felix and feels had about killing Ozzy. His only motives are pleasing his brother, showing his loyalty and desperation to prove himself and be loved.

But he does kill Ozzy, or at least get Protag to do so for him, and plans the whole thing out independantly despite Felix saying that he would take care of it. He's not as dumb as Felix makes him out to be, can be cold-blooded and strategic when necessary, sticks to his plan no matter who it hurts (e.g. Carla with the gum, Ozzy himself) all in the name of showing he's capable. Ted isn't as innocent as people like to pretend, but he is more considerate than plenty the other characters.

Characters like Cindy and Buggs make Penny & Ted look like angels, and the big personalities everyone else possesses make Ozzy seem pretty boring. He's not particularly compelling, we're not supposed to like him, his only major plot point is that Ted wants the player to kill him, and he only ever shows concern for himself and characters whose only personalities are being experiments.

Even then, he refuses to hug Madison after she comes out of the lab, telling her to take a bath and calling her gross. We know what Madison has been through as the Protag so we feel bad for her, but looking at the situation through Ozzy's eyes is entirely different.

She's covered in something that looks disgusting and he's trying to get on him, and Ozzy hates getting dirty. All he's been told is that it's from the principal's secret lab, which only makes it seem more unhygienic. He's fully aware of the rules in science and labs at school, reminding Danner multiple times, and his mom has clearly enforced these before.

Again, he's five, so his lack of a filter isn't entirely his fault. He doesn't possess the emotional maturity to see that might upset her, he's just glad that she's back and scared of her touching him with her goo. He doesn't know she was kidnapped, he doesn't know what the goo is, he doesn't know why she didn't reach out if she was at school the whole time. He suggests something he sees as perfectly reasonable, and moves on with his life.

One of Ozzy's main characteristics is that he's a germophobe. Getting mad at him for that would be like getting mad at Ted for his arachnaphobia–even if Ozzy's ruder and more blunt about his fear.

Overall, people don't like Ozzy mostly because they don't find him interesting. He's not endearing or sweet, isn't shown as a nice character, and doesn't really have any spotlight moments like Felix or Penny. Nugget, too, is liked because of how new and unpredictable he is as a character, as well as some of his more emotional moments– all of which Ozzy lacks.

This has been on my mind for a little while, and it's been fun to put it into words! Thanks for getting this far into my little ramble, and I'd love it if you shared your thoughts!! Discussing things like this with people is always nice :D

[snappleapple]

their favorite types of kisses

people in this - dream, georgenotfound, sapnap, wilbur, punz, jschlatt, awesamdude, quackity

headcanon!

the most disgusting fluff i’ve ever written

warning - cursing, i think that’s all but if there is more please do not hesitate to tell me :)

word count - 2k

a/n: okay okay, i might’ve lied earlier about that being my last post but this was short and easy to make which is why i would like to feed my readers this early haha. anyways, enjoy and please disregard the errors in this post, i hate proof reading anything lol. also, i’ve been very indecisive on the title and i might change it later and ooh, my masterlist will be made soon. i’ve just been feeling very unproductive these days. also, please put in requests, i am so bored and dumb therefore there are no ideas in this brain. and if you’d like a part 2, i might add more people for the part 2!anyways, peace!

dream -

i get the feeling that dream’s favorite type of kisses would be cheek kisses

he just likes to watch as you struggle to reach his height

“aw look at those little legs do their thing.”

ends up with you not giving him his kiss

and mans becomes SO pouty

“y/n…come on. don’t be this way.” :(

if you don’t kiss him on the cheek, will also become SO clingy and whiny

“why won’t you KISS ME!”

clenches his fists and stomps away like a teenage girl during puberty

slamming the door to your room

so then you have to go and give him all the kisses he wants

his face is slammed into your pillow

you sit on the side of the bed and pet his hair

leading him to stare up at you with puppy dog eyes

“i will give you all the kisses you want. so stop being so pouty, you big baby.”

will literally leave zero feet of space between you and him

taps his cheek to tell you he wants kisses

when you go on dates, will literally make you stand on your tippy toes to get his kisses

does not bend down at all and actually lifts his head higher to tease you

in other words, clingy but rude hoe

george -

george is a classic romantic

he loves just lip kisses

pecks or lingering ones

he doesn’t care

mans don’t need too many kisses

nor does he need to be too clingy

total opposite of dream and sapnap *ahem clingy ahem*

if he wants a kiss,

he will come over to you and get it

doesn’t get pouty if you’re busy

just waits patiently

doesn’t enjoy it when you interrupt him when he’s streaming so you do your own thing

when you’re watching a movie with him,

he will literally only stare at you with his cute smile

and listen to your every criticism of the movie

he likes to just peck your lips whenever he feels like it

and you’re just not surprised anymore

just likes to stare at your lips whenever you talk

overall, is very sweet but not to an extent with showing affection

sapnap -

omg

sapnap just vibes with neck kisses

it tickles his neck and he loves them

giggles when you pepper kisses along his neck and flushes a deep red

“y/n. stop.” giggles between each word

but when you do, becomes the saddest person in the whole world

“i was joking.” :(

when he’s streaming and he begins to miss you

would leave his room and find you just to get a kiss

just like dream, would get angry if you give him no kisses

“GIVE ME KISSIES!”

very amusing for you

and you love to tease him

“i don’t want to give you kissies.”

continues to stare at you with a large frown until you give in and give him kissies

lsg supremacy but i’ll get into this later hehe

you better give him kisses or you’ll be dealing with a very sad sapnap

sadnap :(

wilbur -

wilbur, wilbur, wilbur

what can i even say

total nose kiss guy

i bet he’ll boop your nose twenty four seven

asks stupid questions just to get your attention

“y/n?”

“yes wilbur?”

“is a hotdog a sandwich?”

“why-“

“boop.”

“did you just say boop while you booped my nose?”

if he’s streaming and you bring him a snack

he will hold your face still and leave kisses on your nose

not too clingy but not too distant

likes to be just right with you

if its snowy outside and your noses get red

makes dumb jokes about he is rudolph and you’re mrs. rudolph

just a lot of smooches from wilby

takes you to a lot of hidden cafes in the city

and while you read, he balances his head on his palm, staring at you in admiration

if you’re insecure about your nose, you legit can’t be around wilbur because he will go on a tangent about how beautiful it is

substantially, soft boy hours all day bro, besides when he gets mad then you leave the hormonal man tf alone

punz -

i don’t see a lot of punz on tumblr so here we go

punz loves hand kisses

not to an extent where he has a hand fetish

god no but just like

when your holding hands, he’ll occasionally pull your hand up to his lips and leave a kiss

lots of hand holding

and i mean lots

constantly gets mad fun of for being a simp but ignores those comments because he genuinely loves you so much

likes it when you play with his hair and messing it up

also likes to compare hand sizes with you

always has a hand on your thigh or your hand in his whenever he is driving somewhere with you

even when you go on dates, always holding hands

no matter how sweaty your hand gets, he will hold on

sometimes if he holds on for too long, you have to tell him to let go

“punz, my hand is super sweaty. lets take a break from the hand holding.”

would flat out decline so you would have to pry your hand out of his

he would also love it when you would kiss his hand

makes him feel all polite and precious LOL

would also wrap his pinky along yours when you walk together

he once came with you to a family gathering for christmas and was so SHY

shy boy held your hand for security while your younger siblings made fun of you

afterwards, when you were under a mistletoe, he kisses you on the lips before kissing you on his favorite part of your body,

your hand

c!jschlatt -

jschlatt is a whole mess

the first time you met, he confessed that he would hate you for as long as you lived because you made fun of his boots

now he says he still strongly dislikes you but you’re more tolerable

doesn’t like it when you make him soft and HATES it when he blushes

“why must you do this to me, mother nature?”

also “hates” it when you even touch him because he “hates” you

when he actually confessed to you that he liked you with his grumpy usual grandpa voice,

you kissed him on his forehead, after he bent down of course

he is an actual giant and threatens to squash you like an ant if he feels the need to

is an absolute monster to you but loves it when you kiss his forehead because it makes him feel secure and loved

likes to watch the wind blow through your hair and mess it up but gives you his hat because he like you being “all pretty and shit”

gets SUPER jealous when you hug children

like for example, when you went over to a family gathering at his house, his cousins came up to hug you

and when you let go of the child, the man child comes and lugs you over his shoulder

gets yelled at by his mom and gives her a sheepish smile before rolling his eyes and throwing you down on the sofa set next to him

his mom doesn’t approve of the way he treats you but you tell her its fine because he’s cute

when you are far from any type of civilization or in the safety and solitude of your own home, he wants kisses on the forehead

pointing up to it and bending down so you could reach it

“y/n, i only love you because of your forehead kisses.”

“you only love me for my kisses?” :(

“mhm.”

actually feels slightly bad

“and because of your personality.”

“thank you-“

“shut up. we don’t talk about this.”

in conclusion, give him his forehead kisses or perish

awesamdude -

sam just adores it when you give him jawline kisses

not because it’s basically the only place you could reach but because it’s a sweet gesture

sam is all about sweetness

i mean have you even seen this man on his stream

he likes to watch you while you have conversations with your friends

not in a creepy way but more like an adoring way

cause man does he love you

i mean not only does he love you but his whole family does

and when you’re alone with sam, you love to bury him underneath all of your love

“i love you sam!”

“no i love you more y/n!”

“NO i LOVE you more!”

“NO i LOVE you MORE!”

“SAM NO. I LOVE YOU MORE!”

“okay thank you sweet pea.”

leaving you a bit confused but happy that he accepts your love

when you cuddle, omg

he never stops peppering kisses all over your face and vice versa because your relationship is disgustingly fluffy

when he lends you one of his sweatshirts, you sure as hell better wear that shit out or else (i am leaving a blank threat here)

sam loves technology but you guys sort of have a system

a system that involves mailing each other love letters rather than texting them

you guys also go on a ton of walks just about anywhere

hand holding is mandatory even though you probably look like a child compared to him

just give sam lots of love and in return, you’ll receive lots of love

quackity -

mans cannot leave you tf alone

likes to do ANYTHING freaky around you

“i will follow you to the ends of the earth, mi amor.” or

“ayy, back off.” if anyone gets too close to you

messes with you twenty four seven and makes it his job to drive you insane

plays horror games at two in the morning for fun

and when he gets scared, hides in the safety of your arms

“mi amor. i’m scared.”

“shut the fuck up and sleep, alex.”

“okay.” shuts up quickly and snuggles deeper into the crook of your neck

loves you so deeply but HATES your cat

“look at that little dumb thing stare at me. you got a problem bro?”

your cat also HATES alex

scratches him all the time and hisses at him

if you think sapnap is babie, wait till you meet alex

“y/n he bit me!”

when you glance down, you don’t even see a scratch

“kiss my boo boo.”

wtf

“what boo boo? there’s nothing there.”

gasps as if you offended him

“this boo boo that your el demonio did to me.”

this man will do anything to get boo boo kisses

istg, you once found him provoking your cat to get some scratches

in alex’s mind, ouchies = kisses from y/n

always has ouchies from god knows where and shows it to you

even though you find it annoying at first, you grow used to it and it sorta becomes your thing with alex

alex is babie and you need to take good care of him :)

[cinnaminyoons]

( DAFT PRETTY BOYS – PT I. )

ミ☆ taehyung claims to despise you with every single atom of his being, but love and hate are just two sides of the same coin.

⤷ PAIRING kth x m!reader

⤷ WORD COUNT 3.6k 

⤷ TAGS swearing, enemies-to-lovers, reader calls taehyung ‘puppy’, suggestive scene at the end

⤷ SERIES part two

⤷ REQUESTED

helloo !!

can you write a taehyung one shot where it's basically set in college and reader is a pretty popular guy while taehyung is also a popular guy but the both of them are sort of like rivals ?

like moths to an irresistible flame, girls and boys crowd taehyung any time he is on campus. it’s irritating for the kids who come to this elite university for the education and only the education and none of taehyung’s easygoing, party-animal lifestyle. trying to squeeze by a gaggle of ten, fifteen adoring fans in corridors is never an easy task.

because of taehyung’s nature, smiling and laughing carelessly at anything regardless of its consequences, most people think him impossible of anger or annoyance. that simply isn’t true. he may not dislike very much, but he certainly has the capacity to.

except for you. he hates you with every fibre of his body, from the shiny leather tips of his chunky black boots to his blood-red bandana.

now, taehyung thinks himself a reasonable and just person. he doesn’t hate everyone he doesn’t like. but you? something about you, even seeing you, makes his blood boil in his veins, burning their way to his heart and out to the tips of his fingers until his fists clench and his nails carve half-moons into his palms.

maybe it’s the way you’re so nice to everybody you meet. it’s as if you’re friends with every single student who has the fortune of attending the same campus at the same time as you. 

taehyung knows half of the academy and has had more in his bed – that’s the official name for it, snobby little men at the top calling their school a snobby little academy – but he doesn’t make friends with them. he doesn’t want a friends-with-benefits situation turning awkward because the other person messes it all up and falls for him.

or maybe he doesn’t like the way you present yourself. your family is rich, like his; they are giants in luxury fashion and expensive cars. he learnt this from loud whispers floating about, begrudgingly listened to even from his own little fanclub.

where taehyung can be described as wild and rebellious, you are branded sophisticated and classy. he can guess that it comes from the fact that you’re never seen wearing the same suit twice, and that your car can’t be described by model or even colour since it changes every month.

“oppa, oppa! look at me!”

taehyung looks. she practically faints into her friend’s arms.

it’s the end of his lectures – he skipped the first half, too busy rubbing the satisfying ache in his muscles from his nightly activities – and he stands in the campus’ car park, scattered here and there with the occasional shiny, fancy car. he’s done his best to shake off his followers, but a few still remain.

one of the girls – the one carrying her friend – gasps, staring somewhere to taehyung’s left. “oh my gosh,” she squeals to the boy next to her, “is that yn? he looks so amazing!”

taehyung glances left slowly, doing his best to refrain from snapping his gaze over and glaring.

and, lo and behold, there you are, strolling towards them. a large portfolio case made of black leather hangs from a strap over your shoulder, and in your other hand is an iced coffee. long legs are clad in black trousers, and a white shirt tucked into it makes your outline glow from the late morning sun, partially hidden by clouds. you’re chatting with someone, who looks smug and very pleased to be by your side.

the person turns, and taehyung’s jaw nearly drops to the floor. it’s jimin. his best friend, jimin.

jimin locks eyes with taehyung – he’s always had an uncanny ability to know when he’s being watched – and he beams brightly, waving with his whole arm. “tae! hey, haven’t seen you all day – where’d you go?”

he grabs your free hand and drags you over. evidently, he’s very close to you – taehyung never knew this, and it makes his expression sour.

“hi-i,” jimin sings, his blonde hair falling over his forehead in gentle waves. he wraps taehyung in a big hug, giggling, and lifts him off his feet slightly. taehyung pats his back and only relaxes when he’s got both feet on the ground again.

“hey, jimin,” he greets, purposely ignoring you. “i thought you didn’t have classes on fridays?”

“i don’t,” says jimin, and his smile gets even wider. it cuts up into his cheeks and makes his eyes sweet crescents. “i was helping yn-hyung take his finals up!”

“no, you weren’t,” you say good-naturedly, and jimin pouts at you. “my pieces are as tall as you.”

at the sound of your voice, taehyung feels the beginnings of anger coming on. it’s like ocean waves – as you tease jimin, and he pouts more aggressively, the waves turn from turquoise foam lapping at his ankles to big, frothing-white waves crashing down and swallowing him whole.

“fuck off, ln,” he growls. the once-relaxed angles of his body sharpening and the furrow of his dark brows make his anger all the more apparent. “you keep your filthy hands to yourself. i don’t want you dirtying him with whatever bullshit you’re spouting now.”

you raise an eyebrow. nothing physical about you changes – your grasp on your plastic cup is still loose, and your posture is still open and comfortable. yet, there’s something in your eyes – a dark glint, like a blade’s edge – that lets him know what you want him to know.

you’re vexing like that. you show only what you want other people to see in doses so small they feel like they’ve done something important, uncovered a secret feeling they think you’ve tried to hide. it makes them prideful, arrogant, and makes their downfall all the more dramatic.

“stand down, puppy. i’m no threat.” you catch the eye of one of the girls behind taehyung, who stares at you with reverence. her entire face goes pink when you smile at her, and shyly, she hides her cheeks with manicured hands.

all taehyung can do is glare. you smile – frustratingly calmly – and take a sip from your coffee. against his own will, his eyes flicker down to your mouth. his head fills up with images of your smirking lips.

what am i thinking? 

in one sudden motion, he smacks your hand hard enough to make it sound as if he’d slapped your face. taehyung’s little gang of adorers gasp in unison as the lid separates from the cup on contact with the grey concrete, splashing it everywhere in a strangely artistic shape like a river delta. the ice cubes spill out and clatter noisily.

“come on, jimin,” taehyung mutters, still glowering at you. when jimin doesn’t move, taehyung grunts and grabs him by the wrist. he drags him away – jimin trips over himself to keep pace with taehyung’s long strides – without a look back. people stare in acute interest. 

you glance at the ground. the lid, with its straw still in the hole, sadly rocks back and forth. taehyung’s fanclub is still with you, watching cautiously as if you’d explode at them. you suppose that’s what he would do.

instead, you pick up the cup and its lid, both covered in coffee. no littering on campus. you hold it carefully away from your clothes and look around. “does anyone have a tissue i can use?”

three pocket packs of tissues thrust forward.

—

“tae! taehyung! wait up!”

at the familiar voice, taehyung stops in his tracks and turns. “hey – hobi-hyung, jimin.”

hoseok throws an arm around his shoulder, grinning like he’s won the lottery. “we’ve heard rumours.”

“about?” taehyung asks, disinterested. there are always rumours floating around – nothing special.

“you, duh. haven’t you heard?” jimin cuts in. he pinches the sleeve of hoseok’s dark green shirt to not bump into anyone while he looks down into the mouth of his backpack, rummaging around. he retrieves some rose-pink lip gloss. “then again, half of every rumour concerns you.”

taehyung takes a seat at an empty window table and snaps open a sandwich container. the scent of warm bread floats in the air of the quaint cafe. “uh-huh. i stopped listening after the first few hundred.”

hoseok rolls his eyes affectionately and steals taehyung’s green bottle of sprite. taehyung opens his mouth to demand it back, but hoseok’s already cracked it open and taken a sip. 

hoseok waves a slender hand while he talks. “seokjin-hyung told me people are complaining about you and someone called ln yn. the name ring any bells?”

“alarm bells, yeah. guy’s a douchebag.”

jimin sighs, “he’s really not.”

“yes, he is. the bastard never lets me win – always first place in competitions, constantly correcting me, even girls. rubs it in my face, too, with that stupid handsome smirk.” taehyung shakes his head and returns his attention to hoseok. “so? what’s the big deal hyung spoke about?” 

hoseok glances left, right, and leans across the table. he drops his voice. “you’re getting a room change this week. after namjoon-hyung got this petition thing from students, he was forced to give it to the dean due to the sheer number of names. the dean approved it.”

“and where, exactly, am i moving? i like it where i am.” his family paid an ungodly amount of money to get him a dorm alone.

jimin placed a hand on taehyung’s shoulder sympathetically, and hoseok gives him a wicked, giddy grin. “you’re gonna be roomies with ln yn.”

“what?” taehyung’s palms slap the table and his chair screeches painfully. the entire cafe quietens at his shout, looking on awkwardly.

“sit down,” jimin says firmly, “and shut up.”

taehyung sits down. he shuts up.

hoseok apologises to the cafe with a bright, charming smile and a wave. there’s a bit of muttering from disgruntled students, but the chatter returns. 

he faces taehyung, eyes glimmering. “i bet you’re wondering why. well, everyone knows you in one way or another, and some people are really getting annoyed at the ‘another’ part.” he pulls a face that says yikes. “to put it simply, they want you to shut up at night. plus, taming that rivalry you’ve got with yn would be good for all of us, as entertaining as it is to see you bite each other’s heads off.”

taehyung takes a silent bite of his sandwich. it doesn’t taste as good after such awful news. 

“the academy’s full of kids who want to be doctors or lawyers or whatever,” jimin says, smacking his lips in a small handheld mirror. he puts the lip gloss back in his bag. “they don’t enjoy having to cram before an exam to the sound of you breaking the bed.”

“i’m two floors up,” hoseok remarks, “and sometimes i feel like i can still hear you.”

look, taehyung isn’t a whiner. if he had to move rooms, he’d be totally fine with it – if he had been told about it first, and if it isn’t with his arch-enemy.

“with ln,” he says finally, strained. “i have to room with ln.”

“it won’t be that bad,” jimin cajoles, “if you just be nice. i don’t understand why you hate him so much – what’s he done to get your knickers in a twist?”

exist, taehyung wants to say, but he holds his tongue. sullenly, he chews his sandwich.

hoseok checks his watch. it’s a cheap thing from a market store when he went overseas with his family, a plastic gameboy with a digital watch where the screen would be, but he adores it. he’s done everything he can to lengthen its life. 

“my class starts in ten.” he leans back in his seat and cracks his back with a stretch. he sighs in satisfaction and rises to his feet. “i’ve gotta run. jimin, teach him some manners while i’m gone.”

jimin gives him a nod. “aye-aye, captain.”

“wait, can i have my—” 

hoseok whisks himself out the door, along with taehyung’s sprite. he sighs.

jimin crosses his legs and gazes expectantly at taehyung. 

it unnerves him. “what?”

“i’m taking my job seriously.” he clears his throat. “scenario one: you drop something that doesn’t belong to you and it shatters into a million pieces onto the floor. what do you do?”

taehyung groans and slumps to the table.

—

fuck this. fuck this. fuck this.

every step he has to heave his boxes up, he curses you. of course the special little prince has to live on the very top floor of a six-storey building. of course the elevator has to be under maintenance on the day he moves out.

he’s already dragged up half of his room. being unwilling and a little more than lazy, he’d begun with the small stuff – kitchen utensils, hair products, accessories – since he believed the bigger things, like his bed, would be easily taken up through the elevator. 

boy, was he wrong.

in the middle of carrying two big boxes full of very heavy things – he hasn’t labelled anything –  he practically collapses on the staircase. it’s probably wide enough to fit a small car, if a car wanted to go up the stairs for whatever reason, and taehyung plops himself right in the middle of it.

he closes his eyes. his clothes smell like cardboard and dust.

the light coming through his eyelids dims considerably. “you look like you need a hand.”

taehyung scowls. “go away, ln.”

the shadows shift, and he hears the click of your shoes move around him towards his boxes. there’s a brief pause, and then your footsteps pass him from bottom to top.

“come on, pretty boy. you can rest in our dorm.”

taehyung finally opens his eyes and sighs. he gets up and follows you, lagging behind warily. he frowns. “are you wearing jeans?”

you turn, gazing down at him from the landing above him. “yes. stop gaping – close your mouth before you start drooling.”

you continue up the stairs, and it takes a few seconds for taehyung to remember how to walk. you’ve never, ever, worn jeans in front of him before – and is that a cap? 

it feels like he’s walked in on you naked. his face warms and he looks away quickly. he’s never been much of a puritan about anything – really, he’s quite bold and shameless. yet, watching the way your arms shift and strain against the dark material of your long-sleeve shirt, with the sleeves pushed up to your elbows, makes him feel... hot. he pulls at his collar.

have you just been to the gym? your hands are veinier than he remembers.

you nudge the door open with your foot. the room sits at the very end of the hallway, on the short side of the building, which means it gets two walls with windows rather than just one. inside, if taehyung ignores the many boxes sitting like boils in the pristine space, is rather homey.

the small kitchen – you get a kitchen, he thinks in something akin to jealousy, despite now living here too – has a row of potted plants lining the bench. no, not just any plants – herbs. basil, lemongrass, coriander, chillies, some others.

“they’re labelled now,” you call from the area opposite your bed and desk, which you have considerately shifted over to make room for him. a bunch of boxes you’d already helped move in sit around in neat pyramids, biggest at the bottom. “everything is. i didn’t know if you had any allergies and i heard you don’t like spicy things.”

it sets his teeth on edge. where did you learn that?

“why... are you being so nice?”

you look up from near your desk, where you have a box cutter in hand. “nice?” you scoff. “is not wanting to accidentally kill someone because of an allergy ‘nice’?”

taehyung rolls his eyes. “jesus. relax. i wasn’t trying to start anything.”

“yeah, right. your friends tell me you rant and rave about how shitty i am after every meeting.” you look him up and down and he crosses his arms over his chest. you smirk at the defensive posture. 

you continue, “every time we see each other, you speak as if you’ve been practising the words in your mirror. every time we see each other, you bare your teeth at me like a pup at the end of its leash.”

“i—”

“so, which is it, taehyung?” you step forward. you’re close enough that taehyung can smell your cologne – something earthy, woodsy, but sharp and sweet, like pine and jasmine. you raise his chin with a finger. “do you like me, or do you hate me?”

the scent of you fills his nose, his mouth. he swallows thickly. he’s never properly noticed it before, too busy frothing at the mouth with anger, but you’re taller than him – tall enough that he has to crane his neck significantly to look you in the eye. it makes it difficult to stare you down.

when he finally finds his tongue, he says, “what kind of freak mistakes hate for love?” 

he means to say it with a snap, a baring of the teeth. it doesn’t come out like that. the closest thing his voice is to is mild contempt.

you know it. you know what he is. a hint of a smile appears on your lips, and his eyes dart down to them.

your hand shifts from beneath his chin to his throat. gently, like he is a piece of art too precious to break. his throat rides against your thumb as he swallows.

“i don’t know,” you whisper, eyes glittering in the shadows of the late afternoon sun. you lean in, and he doesn’t back away. “what kind?”

your smile widens when his hands – shaky, hesitant, like a fawn learning to walk – unwind from across his chest. he hooks his fingers in the loops of your jeans, the leather of your belt smooth and cool against his clammy hands.

when has kim taehyung ever had clammy hands?

he turns his head slightly to catch your eyes. you’re still smiling that infuriating, obnoxious, and maddeningly attractive smile. you know exactly how he feels, and exactly what to do to rile him up. every single time, without fault, it works.

annoyance bubbles up in him at the very thought. you’ve been playing with him for – how many years now? three, four? you’ve toyed with him, leading him on with the metaphorical carrot on a stick. you may have led him to it but he was the one who took that first bite, and he was left wanting.

he leans in and presses his lips against yours – quickly and lightly, like a hand flitting out to steal a wallet out of a pocket. he goes in again, starving, all tongues and teeth. lips still connected, he pushes you back by the chest until you hit the edge of your bed with the backs of your knees. 

you grip his hips tightly as a warning as he tries to force you down. he growls impatiently into the kiss – pressed close as you are, you feel it rumble through his chest into yours. you part for air and you grin at his red, kiss-swollen lips and his half-lidded eyes, pupils blown wide open. 

“careful, puppy,” you murmur with a chuckle. “don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

“shut up.”

he pushes down on your shoulders again, and this time, you allow him. the brim of your cap bothers him. he bats it away and it falls to the bed, forgotten. 

he presses your lips together once more and straddles your lap, pushing you down into the sheets with a sharp grin. he moves his body in such a way that what it is he wants is made crystal clear: the slow, lazy rocking of his hips; his long, slender fingers slipping under your shirt and drawing circles over the warm lines of you.

not many people would be allowed the chance to see you like this, he thinks. him, yes; not you. princelike, you are untouchable.

your hands push at his clothes. they slip off his shoulders like oil on water, revealing a gorgeous golden expanse. he almost seems to glow, rimmed in warmth. his heart races under his ribs with every touch.

muscles shift beneath his skin as he moves, guiding your hands to the favourite parts of him. his shoulders, his stomach, his thighs. everyone likes those parts of him, so physical and devoid of the intimacy he craves. he guesses you’ll be the same, enraptured with them like a bee caught in honey – the cause of its own demise.

but you don’t. 

you stroke the soft inside of his wrist with a thumb, pressing down to feel his pulse quickening. you trace the shallow dip of his spine, fingers bumping gently over the vertebrae until you reach the nape of his neck, where the dyed curls of hair fade to their natural black. 

you brush the pad of your finger over the slight concavity between his collarbones, drawing a straight line down the middle of his chest until you reach his ribs. his heart beats beneath it rapidly – it hammers against your palm.

“are you nervous, taehyung?” you ask quietly, amusement seeping into your voice. “we can slow things down, if you like.”

oh, no. no, no. he has received a chance to love someone properly – and to put an end to this ridiculous rivalry. he forced it there, desperate to put a name to the thing that consumed him. any slower and he may just combust.

“fuck off, yn,” he mutters, and shuts you up with his lips on yours.

[rookie-critic]

Puss in Boots: The Last Wish (2022, dir. Joel Crawford) - review by Rookie-Critic

I can't believe I'm saying this, but Puss in Boots: The Last Wish is, legitimately, one of the best movies of the year. It is pure in its love for animation and easily one of the most enjoyable theater experiences I've had in 2022. I wasn't even going to see it. I haven't seen any other Puss in Boots movies or series and have only seen the first 3 Shrek films (maybe only the first 2), so I thought that would be a barrier for entry, but it absolutely isn't. You can jump headfirst into this movie knowing absolutely nothing and have a wonderful time. I've also never been the biggest fan of this particular franchise, and thought that this would be an easy skip because of that, but then reviews started pouring in and they were all overwhelmingly positive which, of course, piqued my interest. Even still, when I sat down in my seat at the theater I was skeptical; I thought I would have some fun, laugh at the jokes, and go an a quasi-entertaining adventure with a character that I didn't really care a whole lot about before now. What I ended up getting was not only an absolute laugh-riot, but an animated film that digs deep into death anxiety and has a larger narrative about found family, trust, and, as cliché as this is going to sound, the power of friendship.

The cast is great and surprisingly stacked (Salma Hayek, Florence Pugh, Olivia Colman, and John Mulaney all have major roles), but the obvious standouts are Antonio Banderas and Harvey Guillén. Banderas has been playing Puss in Boots fairly regularly since 2004, so it's no surprise he is effortlessly perfect as the character at this point, but Harvey Guillén (who you might know as the lovable Guillermo from FX's What We Do in the Shadows) really shines and holds his own as a hopeful therapy dog that Puss comes across early on in the story. They play off each other expertly and contribute to a lot of the film's funniest moments. The humor is second-to-none, with comedic timing and sequences that are some of the most cleverly written I've seen in a long time. I'm pretty sure I was either laughing or grinning ear-to-ear for most of the movie from the moment it started to the moment the credits rolled. When I wasn't laughing, I was slack-jawed and dumbfounded by either the amazing animation quality or the incredibly heartfelt story.

The animation is absolutely bonkers in this film, from CG animation that blows most other modern 3D-animated movies out of the water to stylized animation slightly akin to what we saw out of Into the Spider-Verse back in 2018. The CG, especially when it comes to the unbelievably expressive faces of the animal characters, is mind-blowing. There are times I was staring in disbelief at the screen, not because of any big major action sequence, but because Kitty Softpaws gave Puss in Boots a knowing glance that broke right through the Uncanny Valley to look almost real. Although the action sequences are nothing to scoff at, either, with changes in animation style so subtle and weaved in that you barely even notice it's different, just that it looks amazing. As far as the story goes, I really can't say anything plot-wise because I absolutely do not want to spoil this for anyone, but just know that Puss in Boots: The Last Wish got this 29-year-old to tear up. Multiple times. It's beyond beautiful and I can't heap enough praise onto the film makers and animators for creating a movie that had absolutely no right being this great.

When I got home from the theater and was talking to some friends on Discord about it, I was really trying to find anything, even one thing that I disliked. A single complaint. The only thing I could come up with was that the auto-tune on Antonio Banderas' singing in the opening musical number of the film is very noticeable. That's the worst complaint I can even think to lob at Puss in Boots: The Last Wish. This movie is incredible and everyone should see it. Full stop.

Score: 10/10

Currently only in theaters.