#sometimes i see people who write like A LOT on here

[ugh-yoongi]

hi. i would like to request seungcheol (obviously). all i request is enemies-to-lovers. you may do with this what you wish. i leave it up to you to decide exactly how you will ruin my life 😌

tysm for the request my beloved !! he is so enemies to lovers coded i had TEWWW many thoughts (and started three separate wips oops), but here we are. i hope u enjoy this !! can't wait to get the collab fics out of the way so i can torture u further with baseball dk. i picked dodgers hat!cheol just for u. ♡

— we need to talk

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader summary: sometimes the only way to win the game is to not play, but sometimes it's not a game at all—sometimes it's four years of emotional build-up with nowhere left to hide. genre: enemies (kinda) w benefits to lovers; frat/university au; smut, angst?, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact with this or any of my work. warnings: frat boys. gendered language and insults. swearing. mentions of drugs & drug use (vernon is literally a drug dealer 🤷🏻‍♀️) as well as alcohol. possessive, jealous seungcheol who is extremely down bad and kind of an asshole and would be toxic af irl but is fine in fanfiction probably. this is maybe more "people who used to fuck and started disliking each other along the way bc they can't figure out their feelings" to lovers than enemies. there are very slight, very meaningless mingyu x reader undertones here. jeonghan is a bastard. feelings you think are unrequited but alas! this got softer than i intended oops. smut warnings: seungcheol truly is a man driven to the brink of madness bc of pussy idk what to say. kissing. hair pulling. mentions of masturbation. the dynamics shift in this one a lot, but to be overly cautious i will say dom!cheol and slightly dom!reader undertones that are not implicitly stated or defined. seungcheol uses the term "whore" once, sorry. oral sex (f. receiving). pussy slapping. unprotected sex. if i missed any pls lmk. wordcount: 8k. no i do not know what a drabble is, leave me alone. author's note: title from the song of the same name by waterparks but this was actually brought to you by "i'll never stop" by nsync bc it's their best song and fit the vibes perfectly. anyway, i still do not love writing smut but i am insane over this man so whatever, we persevere. everyone go shower mj in lots of love bc she's the best and deserves it. also everyone say thank u @the-boy-meets-evil for looking over this for me. i did not look at this again after she beta'd it so any mistakes are of my own stupidity. <3

Seungcheol is incensed.

What in the fuck are you thinking, showing up here? Ignoring him, walking by him with nothing more than a brush to the elbow and that sultry, electric gaze? A pair of painted-on jeans and a sheer top?

Who the fuck had invited you?

He looks around the room, gaze heavy under his furrowed brow. Bass thumps in his ears, the music so loud he can feel it in his chest. Still, his feet stay planted on the floor, already sticky with spilled alcohol and god knows what else. He needs to find Vernon—just needs something to get through this very unexpected (and very unpleasant) surprise, take the edge off.

But he can’t see through the sea of people. They’re everywhere, occupying every inch of available space in the house, but he just needs a glimpse of that mop of cornflower blue hair. If he could just—

Instead, he sees a streak of white-blond in his peripheral vision. “Soonyoung!” he calls, grabbing the man by the arm. “Hey, have you seen Vernon?”

Soonyoung stares up at him with glassy, bloodshot eyes, his breath already stinking of alcohol as he shrugs and says, “Dunno, hyung. Think he’s upstairs.”

Fingers still wrapped around his bicep, Seungcheol heaves a sigh. “Go find Jeonghan. He’s on babysitting duty and you’re already fucked.”

“I’m fine,” Soonyoung argues, slurred words giving him away immediately.

Seungcheol scoffs. “Bro, you can barely stand and you reek of shitty vodka. Go drink some water.”

As he sends Soonyoung away, he can feel eyes boring into him, tension wound tight in the center of his back that refuses to dissipate no matter how many times he rolls his shoulders. He turns slowly, already knowing exactly what he’ll find, but knowing does little to stop the hitch of breath as he takes you in.

And he hates it. Fuck, he hates the effect you have on him more than anything.

Hates that he’s still pining after you. Hates that all you have to do is look at him and he’s putty in your hands. Hates that you’re the first person he looks for in a room, the last person on his mind before he falls asleep. Hates you, hates that all of this is unreciprocated, because if Choi Seungcheol is anything, it’s proud. He’s rich, he’s good-looking, he’s pre-law, and the president of this fraternity, for fuck’s sake—he should not be hung up on a girl.

But he’d been doomed from the beginning. Ever since you’d been assigned to him as a challenge to overcome, an impossible task to conquer, he’d been helplessly, pathetically smitten with you.

And fuck if you didn’t know it, too.

So, it’s a game now. A lifetime’s worth of pining for Seungcheol all because his frat was misogynistic and refused to keep up with the times. They’d nodded in your direction and laughed at the confusion on his face, the knot between his brows. Seungcheol couldn’t figure out why his initiation was to fuck a girl, one his brothers wouldn’t even address by name, but when he’d approached you at a party and you’d immediately told him to go fuck himself, he’d figured it out pretty quick.

Call it determination, call it a stubborn streak that refused to quit, but the two of you soon came to a reluctant agreement: you would let Seungcheol lie to his frat, figuring he was attractive enough that people thinking you’d slept together wouldn’t be complete social suicide, and he’d owe you a favor you’d keep in your back pocket for as long as it took to cash in.

Which hadn’t taken long. The stress of finals that first year had gotten to all of you, and it wasn’t long before you were at his door looking for his drug-dealing roommate and a quick fuck.

That was the second time Seungcheol had been doomed to hopeless pining, because once he had you, he knew it’d be impossible to let you go.

Short of outright saying the words, he’d all but told you as much during some alcohol-induced brain shortage junior year. And, in turn, you’d all but laughed in his face.

Right.

Of course.

That was to be expected.

So, you’d continued your… well, whatever this is: quick fucks when both of you were bored or lonely or horny, usually under the influence of something illegal; a mutually tense but beneficial relationship for each of you, because you had been Seungcheol’s initiation and the initiation itself awarded him connections and opportunities. You got a back-up plan. A safe body and warm bed to retreat to when the need arose—one who clearly wanted it to be something more, but was, all things considered, fine with the current arrangement. Didn’t pressure you.

But, as was also to be expected, it was never going to be that simple when feelings got involved. When he started feeling slighted. When he wanted you so bad he ached with it sometimes and it was beneath you to care. Which is why he really, really needs to find Vernon. If he’s going to endure an entire party with you, he’s not going to do it sober.

He takes the steps two at a time, feet stumbling onto the landing as soon as he reaches it. Vernon’s door is the third on the left, and he can hear a separate, distinct bass line from the one booming downstairs that hums louder the closer he gets.

And Vernon knows. Of course he does, because he’s yanking his door open before Seungcheol has even raised a hand to knock, the stench of weed seeping out into the hallway, and all he needs is a quick look at Seungcheol before he pulls the door open wider and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States of America,” as if he’s speaking into a microphone. When Seungcheol doesn’t react, he awkwardly tacks on, “Hi, hyung. I’m assuming she’s here.”

Seungcheol nods, dumbly, and stands as awkwardly in the center of the room as someone who’s about to ask their roommate for drugs tends to be. “Yeah.” Shoves his hands in the pockets of his overpriced jeans so Vernon can’t see the sheen of sweat.

“You looking for somethin’ specific?” he asks, rifling through the top drawer of a tall dresser. “Like, is this an I’m about to fuck her the rest of the night visit or an I need something to help me forget she doesn’t actually like me visit?”

The words come like a reflex. “Fuck you,” he seethes. Vernon’s not wrong, per se, but he didn’t have to go and just… say it like that.

Vernon just shrugs, one side of his worn-out collar slipping down his shoulder as he does so, and Seungcheol can’t tell if he’s actually dressed for the party or not. “Gonna guess it’s the second one, then.”

Seungcheol scoffs. “Well, it’s not,” he insists, knowing damn well he should let it go, that he’s just digging himself a bigger hole, but the truth sits in the pit of his stomach like lead.

And, really, he knows he just needs to accept it. That little strand of hope hasn’t brought him anything but more pain—allowed him to delude himself into thinking it could be something more, something tangible—and it’s time to let it go.

You don’t want more.

You don’t want the label and the relationship.

You don’t want him.

He knows this, but it still tastes sour in his mouth. Still tastes like the chill of autumn when you’d first showed up at his door all that time ago. Tastes like all the blunts you’ve shared and the liquor from all the parties you’d snuck away in the middle of. Tastes like the sharp notes of your perfume, the ones that’d coat his tongue when he’d kiss down your neck—the same notes that stain his bedsheets.

Mostly, it’s the pitying look Vernon’s giving him that hurts the most. He’s above pity. Doesn’t need it, especially not from Vernon Chwe, but it hurts all the same to be on the receiving end of it.

“Give me whatever you’ve got.”

Vernon’s face quickly morphs into surprised concern. “Uh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I mean, I’ve got some pretty heavy shit here.”

Heat flares in his belly. The pity was bad enough—now he wants to be patronizing? “Then give me whatever the fuck you think I need,” he snaps. “I don’t care. I don’t have time for this shit.”

“Well, you definitely need to chill,” Vernon mumbles. “You want some dabs?”

“No. Something…” The word feels thick in his mouth. Stronger implies that Seungcheol does heavy drugs, and that’s not true. “Else,” he finally finishes.

Vernon sighs as he continues rifling through the drawer. “Your dad would fucking kill me if I gave you my real heavy shit, so…” He pauses, eyebrows raising in triumph as he finds what he was looking for: a small baggie filled halfway with some nondescript powder. “You want a bump?”

Maybe he should be ashamed at how quickly he agrees, at the urgency and greed with which he grabs the baggie from Vernon’s fingers, but he just needs something. Needs the distraction, the brain fog. He shoves it in his back pocket next to his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

Vernon wrinkles his nose. “Nah. Consider that one a freebie. No offense, but you’re a real piece of shit when you’re like this.”

The implication only pisses him off more. Seungcheol is loaded—he can afford to pay his drug dealer, thank you very much—but he’s not like anything. “I’m sorry?”

True to his nature, Vernon barely shrugs. “I’ll put it on your tab, hyung,” he says in a way that implies he’s not at all going to do that and is only saying so to get the fraternity president off his back.

Jeonghan (23:12) Better come get your girl. Kim Mingyu’s dick looks like it’s halfway up her ass by now. Jeonghan (23:12) Uh oh! I think I just saw a testicle

Seungcheol stares down at his phone, hands trembling in anger. Of course it’s Mingyu. That pathetic loser has been taking up residence on the subs bench ever since you’d made out with him months ago in an admittedly successful attempt at payback. Seungcheol had hooked up with some downgrade at a party one time and you’d gone and made out with his friend. It was hardly a fair trade.

Seungcheol (23:14) Good for Mingyu, he can deal with her then Seungcheol (23:14) I’m busy Jeonghan (23:14) Doing what? Jerking off in the upstairs bathroom again? Jeonghan (23:15) Do you know what size condom he wears btw? Looks like I might need to fetch him one if you don’t want to take care of another man’s baby Jeonghan (23:16) Although, to be fair, you might want to sit this one out. He has way better bone structure than you. Might be a blessing in disguise Seungcheol (23:16) Fuck you Jeonghan (23:16) Better be nice to me, Choi Seungcheolie~ that might be the only fuck you get tonight

Seungcheol needs better friends. He needs a lot of things, really, but number one on his to-do list is to never let Jeonghan be on babysitting duty ever again. Somehow he’d forgotten how obnoxious Yoon Jeonghan is when he isn’t stoned and half-asleep on a couch somewhere.

For now, he just stomps down the hallway; locks himself in his room and doesn’t bother to turn on the light. He’s not going to be here long. Just enough time to do this line, change his t-shirt, and come up with a game plan, because he’s not going to let Mingyu even entertain the thought of being able to have you but he also can’t appear desperate. Not just to you, but to everyone else. Choi Seungcheol is not clingy, especially not over a girl.

Especially especially over a girl who doesn’t even want him like that.

But the longer he sits in the dark, the more trouble he has finding his resolve. Can’t bring himself to dig that baggie out of his pocket. Can’t drag his t-shirt over his head. Can’t bring himself to think about anything other than Mingyu’s hands all over you, and fuck, does that image drive him insane.

Does he touch you like Seungcheol does?

Does he coax those same jagged whimpers from your mouth like Seungcheol does?

Does his semi-hard cock feel as good pressed against you?

God, he’s so fucked. Utterly and completely fucked. And he wonders if this would be as bad if he’d just kept his mouth shut, took that secret to his grave instead of fooling himself into thinking it could be more. If it wouldn’t have devolved into… this. You’d always told him not to get attached, that sex was just sex and there was no need to ruin a good thing. But Seungcheol is a selfish man, always has been, and what if? is a dangerous question.

Jeonghan (23:36) Wow, you’re a fucking pussy. Stop hiding in your room like a little bitch. Seungcheol (23:36) Fuck off

He can’t go down there. Not because he’s a coward, but because he’s barely tethered to his sanity as it is. Something about you brings him out of his mind, makes him toss whatever good judgment he has left to the wind. Seungcheol is far too impulsive when it comes to you, reckless in ways that have all twenty years of his social training weeping in a corner; have alarm bells ringing in his brain. So, no, he can’t go downstairs right now because he knows he’ll do something stupid. Stick not only his foot but his entire lower body in it. He should’ve listened, yet here he is, dick pulled halfway out of his jeans because the thought of you alone gets him hard but his pride won’t let him jerk off to the image of anyone touching you that’s not him.

Forget whatever Jeonghan had called him. He’s a fucking fool. A moonstruck, delusional fool who’d tricked himself into thinking he could swim when he can barely tread water.

You (23:41) Something wrong?

Oh, here we fucking go, he thinks. Because this is Seungcheol’s game—one he’d perfected years ago, the one where he’s coy and chilly, never too eager, never committed. Just a little bit of a tease. Barely enough to keep them on the hook, a little needy; still enough to keep them coming back. But you’d taken one look at him all those years ago and had him pegged immediately. Figured out his game and learned the rules, used them against him. Now you watch him flounder with a smile on your face.

Seungcheol (23:42) Never knew you were so needy baby. First you show up uninvited and now youre missing me?

But just because there’s now a player two doesn’t mean he’s doomed to lose. He knows how you look when you’re on your knees for him. Knows how you sound when you’re begging to cum and stuttering out his name like you’re singing hymns. Knows how you look with your eyes rolled back after he’s fucked you dumb. Kim Mingyu doesn’t know shit.

Seungcheol knows he’s the only one fortunate enough to experience you like this.

And god does it kill him.

You (23:44) Don’t act stupid

A pleased exhale of laughter, an equally-smug smirk. Yeah, this is still Seungcheol’s game, the crown still sitting atop his head. You can let Mingyu grind his dick against you all you want, but Seungcheol is still the one you’re seeking out, pouting at the fact he hasn’t come to find you yet.

You (23:44) Mingyu invited me

Oh, you’re good—know just which buttons to press and how much pressure to use. Whatever smug expression Seungcheol had been wearing slides off his face immediately, tongue pressing into his cheek.

Seungcheol (23:46) And yet youre looking for me? You (23:47) Don’t have to look for you to know you’re upstairs sulking in your room because Jeonghan tattled on me like a fucking five year old Seungcheol (23:49) Maybe you should come up here then Seungcheol (23:49) Away from prying eyes

You don’t reply immediately. It’s just long enough for Seungcheol’s brain to conjure up something indecent—the way you’ll straddle him, the way his cock will feel pressed against the apex of your thighs; the goosebumps that’ll raise on his arms when you work your tongue along his neck, that spot near his collarbone you know he likes. His cock throbs against the confines of his jeans when he thinks about the devastated look on Mingyu’s face when you make up some excuse to get away from him, to traipse up the stairs and fall into Seungcheol’s bed, when he realizes he’s not going to have you.

You (23:56) It’d be pretty rude to leave my date, don’t you think? You (23:57) If you want me so bad, come down here and get me yourself

Seungcheol doesn’t play games; doesn’t compete because he has no competition. He’s always been given whatever he wants on a silver platter, no questions asked, so he’s wholly unprepared for this turn of events. What he knows he should do (respond to your text and tell you to fuck off, that you know where he is should you stop being a brat and change your mind) is not what he does (tucks his dick back in his jeans, finally throws on a clean t-shirt, and takes his time descending the stairs so he doesn’t look too eager), because logical thought gets tossed out the window entirely wherever you’re concerned.

“Ah, if it isn’t our resident pissbaby making his grand re-entrance.”

Seungcheol clenches his jaw for the nth time and glares. “Fuck off, Jeonghan.”

The man in question laughs—the annoying raspy one that grates on Seungcheol’s nerves—and hands over a cup of something brown and pungent. “Well, judging from your attitude, and the fact you’re barely hiding that boner you’ve got, you clearly didn’t spend your time away jerking off. What finally got you down here, the promise of cheap whiskey I nicked off some freshman or the fact that your girlfriend’s about two seconds from getting a public indecency charge courtesy of Kim Mingyu?”

Well. Jeonghan may be an asshole but he’s not wrong. Even through the crowd of people and the haze of whatever’s in his cup and a contact high, Seungcheol spots you immediately. Your back is pressed against Mingyu’s chest, his fingers gripping tight at your waist as you roll your hips in time with his. Whatever manufactured filth he’s whispering to you draws a smile, causes you to reach up and tug sharply at his hair. Fuck, Seungcheol can almost hear Mingyu’s moan from across the room, and his blood quickly heats to a rapid boil.

Another chuckle from the demon beside him. “Stop fucking laughing,” Seungcheol snaps, still unable to take his eyes off of you. “Fuck this. I’m going back upstairs. Make sure everyone’s out of here by three. I’m not paying for another noise citation.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “I’m absolutely not going to do that.” He shoves a bottle of something in Seungcheol’s hand. “Take this and think of me when you’re crying yourself to sleep because Mingyu stole guaranteed pussy right out of your hands.”

“Why do you do this?” Seungcheol asks, shoving at Jeonghan’s shoulder roughly. “You never know when to fucking quit.”

Another streak of white-blond. “Hey, no fighting!” Soonyoung slurs, trying his best to push Seungcheol to the other side of the kitchen with his useless, limp arms.

This attracts the attention of Joshua, who struts into the room looking straight out of Fashion Week, much like he always does. He hasn’t even broken a sweat. “Aw, are Mom and Dad fighting again?” he asks, his lips tugged into a smirk. He ignores Seungcheol’s scowl as he fixes himself a drink. “You know Mingyu only does it to get a reaction out of you,” Joshua adds, quieter this time, as if he’s telling Seungcheol a secret only meant for the two of them to share.

“What’s her excuse, then?” Seungcheol fires back, because even if he doesn’t like it, Joshua’s right. This is exactly the kind of behavior he’d expect from resident campus whore Kim Mingyu, but he never expected you to go along with it.

Joshua cocks an eyebrow. “She doesn’t need an excuse, Cheol. She’s not your girl.”

Even though it’s a truth he already knows, it somehow hurts worse being spoken in plaintext, a hushed conversation in a crowded kitchen. Being let down gently. Seungcheol knows he needs to make a decision. He needs to let you go and start moving on with his life; can’t be having these quasi-meltdowns during frat parties anymore. Can’t be possessive and spiteful. You don’t want him. Everyone knows you don’t want him, so that’s all there is to it. Maybe you’ll want Mingyu and he can finally wash his hands of this forever, scrape the jealousy off his tongue.

He steels himself. Rolls his shoulders back, cracks his neck. Navigates the crowd in the living room until he reaches you and your so-called date. Grabs you by the elbow—gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt but firm enough to send a message—and says the two of you need to talk. Upstairs. Now. Mingyu just smiles like he knew this was coming and presses a pointless, wasted kiss just below your ear. Seungcheol tells him to fuck off, too, and Mingyu grins wider, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

As he guides you to his room, he doesn’t think about the way your hand fits in his. Doesn’t think about how this is going to be the last time he has you. Doesn’t think about who’ll have you after. Doesn’t bother to wonder if you’ve finally changed your mind like he had all those other times he’d walked this same familiar path with you in tow. Because it’s the last time. Whatever happens once it’s over is out of his control.

Perhaps that’s what it’d always been about. Seungcheol has always been spoiled and selfish and so terribly, terribly desperate to prove he’s more than his family name and family money. So, yeah, he’d wanted the control; wanted what was never his for the taking. You’d always been the opposite—his perfect little counterpart. Always so pliant and careless and free: everything Seungcheol tried so hard to be but couldn’t, and that’s where the switch flipped.

Someone like you isn’t meant to be controlled.

What he used to want so badly now tastes rancid in his mouth.

The door locks behind you. Seungcheol doesn’t meet your eye as he says, “You got what you wanted. Are you done being a fucking brat?” It’s not a tone he usually takes. Usually he’s dirty, a little possessive, willing to let you set the pace. He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches. “I asked you a question.”

“Seungcheol—”

He clicks his tongue, stalks closer until you’re nearly in his grasp. Your eyes close instinctively as if you’re expecting his mouth on yours. Instead, he threads his long fingers in your hair and pulls. “What’s so hard about answering a simple yes or no question? Did you really want Mingyu’s dick so bad you’ve gone dumb all of a sudden?”

You gasp. “No.”

“No what?” Seungcheol chides. “No, you’re not done being a brat? Or no, you weren’t just downstairs acting desperate and pathetic for mediocre cock?” He runs his thumb across the seam of your lips, follows their movements as you speak.

“I wasn’t—”

A low, mocking chuckle. “You were, baby.” Sounds condescending; speaks to you like you’re a stupid child. He’s so close to you now. Can smell the tang of your skin, the sticky notes of your perfume. Feels your breath fan against his own sweat-slick skin. Still avoids your gaze, because as domineering as he appears, he knows he can unravel just as quickly. “Take your clothes off. This is the last time I’m gonna fuck you and I’m not going to ask twice.”

Now you truly look caught off-guard. “What?” Still he ignores you, expensive silver rings clinking into a dish on his dresser one by one, expensive watch following. “What do you mean the last time?”

Deft fingers play at the buttons on his shirt. Not silk, but just as expensive. “Shit. You’re really testing my patience, you know.” You’re still standing at the edge of his bed, staring dumbly as if he’s just going to start spilling all his secrets, give you some kind of explanation. “I believe I told you to strip.”

Unlike Seungcheol, your fingers tremble as they work at buttons and zippers and hemlines, push down denim and remove heels. It’s clear you’re trying to work out what he’s playing at—if this is some punishment for fucking around with Mingyu or if he really means it—but you’re not going to risk asking. Things between the two of you are already tense as it is. Seungcheol has never been wound this tight, never been so ready to snap.

“That’s it,” he praises once you’re left in nothing but a skimpy underwear set you know he likes. “Look at you. Fucking gorgeous. I bet that’s why you think you can get away with embarrassing me, huh?” He grabs your chin, forces you to meet his gaze for the first time since he’d dragged you up here. “Get on your knees. I’m getting tired of repeating myself.”

It’s not an unfamiliar sight—as it is, you usually leave Seungcheol’s room with bruised knees on a good night—but it settles differently in his gut this time. Because he’d dared a glance at you once and knows he can’t do it again, so he watches the top of your head as you fumble with his belt buckle and looks away whenever he thinks you might risk a glance upwards. Finds some point on the wall to focus on. Hisses through his teeth when you pull his cock from his briefs, your hands cold against his flushed skin.

All he wants to do is kiss you. Draw this out. Give you a memorable last time, maybe mark you up a little. He really wants to savor the feeling of your tongue on his cock, but all he can focus on is the fact that he’ll never be enveloped in that wet heat again. He’s never going to feel your mouth working him over, feel you humming around his length because he knows you love the weight of it, you love wrenching away that little bit of control, turning him into a mess.

But he’s not going to dwell. He’s going to thumb at the hinge of your jaw, force it open just wide enough for his cock to fit inside. Then he’s going to fist your hair into a makeshift ponytail, grip it tight, use it to guide your mouth until there’s only an inch of space between you. He’s going to stare down at you, silently revel in how fucked out you look already even though he hasn’t touched you. He’s going to watch the way your fingers dig into your thighs because they can’t touch him. Then he’s going to say—

“Beg me. Beg me to let you suck my cock.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation. Seungcheol doesn’t talk to you like this. This is not the kind of dynamic the two of you have, and Seungcheol finds himself wondering if things would be different if it was. If he’d never started going so easy on you. Would you want him then? Or would you have left a long time ago?

He’s half-expecting you to do that now. You look ready to bolt, to pull your clothes back on and tell him to go fuck himself on the way out. Probably go straight back to Mingyu, let him fuck you hard but routine, the way Seungcheol usually does, the way he knows you like. He expects you to leave, and this is the last time, anyway, so he figures he has nothing left to lose.

“I’m going soft,” he snaps, the admonishment harsh on his tongue. When you look up at him, his jaw is clenched, eyes narrow. “You have one fucking job and you can’t even do that properly? Who’s going to want a dumb little whore that can’t follow simple instructions?”

He watches your eyes squeeze shut involuntarily. Wonders if he’s gone too far before deciding he doesn’t care if he has. It’s the last time, anyway, so it’s not like it matters. Watches the indents in your thighs grow deeper. Watches you inhale and try to steady your breathing.

Watches your eyes snap open, any trace of hesitation long gone. “Did you make that other girl beg for you?”

Seungcheol snorts, amusement showing all over his face. “Is that what this is about? You’re still mad I hooked up with some other girl so you act like this?” He clicks his tongue at you, fists his cock, slicking it up. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you answer simply, “I’m just trying to figure out why you think you can speak to me however the fuck you want.”

Seungcheol’s hand stutters along his length before it stills, your words sharp and immediate against his skin. He should’ve known. Shouldn’t have thought something like this would work on you, that you’d like it, and he’s halfway to soft and throwing his hands up and tucking his dick back into his briefs when you say, “Answer the question.”

“What?”

You tsk. Move your hands from your thighs to his, nails pressing just deep enough to leave crescent moons behind that match your own. Something for someone else to see. “Did you make her beg for you?”

Seungcheol’s brain power decreases the higher your palms go, when your thumbs press into the dimples of his hips. Can barely choke out a hissed yes, yeah, fu-fuck when your hand covers his, fingers wrapping tightly around his own as you guide it back and forth, up and down the length of his cock. “What did you make her beg for, Cheol?”

“To—to to-touch me.”

You hum. Tighten your grip on Seungcheol’s hand and laugh as his hips roll involuntarily, seeking the friction. “Touch you how? Like this?”

“Yeah—fuck, yes, like this.”

“Did she? Did she listen to you like a good girl?” Your hand leaves Seungcheol’s only to collect the precum at his tip. “Don’t get all shy now, Cheolie.” You suck your thumb into your mouth and he whines. “Was she a good girl for you?”

You sit back on your haunches. Watch him jerk himself off. “Yeah,” he finally says, word cracking in the middle. “Boring, though. Not like—not like you.”

“No one is like me,” you admonish. “I could’ve told you that for free, before you went off and fucked someone else.”

“Not an idiot,” Seungcheol replies, the pace of his hand quickening. He’s playing a dangerous game; approaching the cliff edge at a dangerous pace. “No-nothing comes for free with you.”

All you do is smile, lopsided and smug. “Mm, that’s true. Guess your little dom moment earlier can just be chalked up to momentary stupidity, hm?” Seungcheol wants to nod, wants apologies to tumble from his lips until you shut him up, but his palm is so slick against his dick, fist tight enough to white out his vision. “Did you make her beg to suck your cock?”

Truth be told, Seungcheol can’t remember much of anything right now. He’s perilously close to coming, right at that precipice, and each filthy word that slips from your mouth just pushes him further to the edge. He remembers Chan inviting him to a party. He remembers a few drinks, a few hits from a blunt, compliments of Vernon; he remembers a girl making eyes at him from across the room—eyes that had looked a lot like yours in the haze of his crossfade. He remembers a locked bathroom and the sound of his voice as he told that girl how to touch him so it felt like you. He remembers her doing whatever he told her to, remembers how eager and submissive she was, how she didn’t mouth off to him the way you always do—

Remembers how unsatisfying it’d been when he came.

You’ve ruined him.

Not a revelation. Not even close to one. Seungcheol has known this for a long time, but that doesn’t mean annoyance doesn’t flare in his belly at the reminder. You don’t want him. Being so hung up on you isn’t doing him any favors, just means he’ll have a longer drop when this is all over. God, what the fuck is he doing?

He wants you so badly he’s aflame with it. He wants you so badly he can barely look at you anymore. He wants you so badly it consumes him, drives him insane, has him all fucked up and seething. He wants you, he wants you, he—

Loves.

Reality washes over him like a cold wave. Knocks him backwards, drowning, desperately trying to remember how to breathe. In, out; in, out—and none of it changes a goddamn thing.

Four years of this. Four years of touches exchanged in the dark, behind locked doors. Four years of yearning and trying and failing. Four years of everything getting lost in translation, because it’s hitting him now, but shouldn’t he have felt it before? Shouldn’t all those ‘drive me fuckin’ crazy, can’t fucking stand you’s he spoke into the crook of your neck rang hollow?

“Cheol—” you say, because you asked him something, tried to play along with this whole stupid charade, and he knows he’s frozen, just standing there, hand still wrapped around his cock, and he needs to say something, he needs to fix this—

“I’m a liar,” is what he comes up with. You’re still staring up at him, brows furrowed, pinched in the middle. Move, he wills himself, but nothing happens. “I’m a liar,” he says again, because if he says it enough you’ll believe it. “I’m sorry. I’m—”

“What are you talking about?”

He swallows. I’m in love with you, he wants to say. Feels the weight of the words on his tongue, heavy and pressing, and he thinks you should know. Even if you don’t feel the same, he thinks you deserve to know, but the way you’re looking at him—

He can’t bring himself to say it.

But he can—“Can I show you instead?”

Slowly, you nod. Seungcheol nods, too, still feeling off-kilter as he cradles your face in his hands, thumbs in the contours of your cheeks. Moves them down your neck, your shoulders, down the length of your arms. You meet him halfway, twining your fingers together, and he helps you stand, careful and considerate. At full height, he places a hand in the small of your back to tug you closer, kisses you like it’s the end of the world. Whines into your mouth at your familiar taste, and if he lets himself be delusional enough, he can pretend there’s form and substance to those sounds, that their edges are squared-off to form the words he wants to say.

Because it really might be the end of the world. Seungcheol has never known how to play the cards he’s been dealt when it comes to you. Always gets it wrong. Feints one way when he’s meant to go the other, takes the field with two left feet, always playing catch-up. Maybe the mistake was treating it like a game. Maybe the mistake was strategizing, only playing to win, because he lays you gently on his bed, fits his body in the space you create for him between your legs, and realizes he already won a long time ago.

He won the first time your eyes met. He won the first time he’d kissed you, more nerves and teeth than anything else. He won the first time you tucked yourself against his side and stared at his bedroom ceiling, half-smoked joint between your fingers, and made fun of the stupid flag he’d hung up. He won every time you took all the bullshit he threw at you and dished it right back. He won every time he had the privilege of tracing mindless shapes into your soft skin.

Every second of your time you chose to give him—all victories.

He presses in further. Groans when your hands move to his shoulders and grip tight; when your nails dig into the skin of his back. “I’ve been so stupid,” he says, punctuating his words with a nip at your ear. Smirks out of the corner of his mouth at your shuddering breath. “Haven’t I?”

“Yeah,” you answer, rolling your hips upward. He grabs at you desperately, tries to keep you still; hisses when you swat his hands away and redouble your efforts. “You’ve been a fucking asshole for a—for a while.”

You can’t see the way he pouts. Wonders, too, if that would work on you, if it’d earn him one of those rare moments of tenderness. “Well I’m trying to—shit, baby—trying to make it up to you, but you seem pretty determined to make me bust right now.”

He can see the way you roll your eyes. See the way the corners crinkle after as you laugh softly, breathlessly, still trying to chase a high Seungcheol refuses to provide. “You deserve it. You tried to dom me, you dickhead.”

Embarrassment sits obvious on his ruddy cheeks. He hides his face in the crook of your neck so you don’t see it, don’t have something to poke at him with later, but you’re having none of it. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug gently, forceful enough to have him pliable, and there it is: there are stars in your eyes as you stare up at him, tender and soft just like he hoped you’d look, and he misses the feeling of your nails on your scalp until you’re tugging at the delicate chain around his neck and pulling him closer. “Just kiss me and we’ll call it even.”

This is how it feels to get struck by lightning, he thinks. Every part of him is on fire, and he’s content to burn as his lips find yours. He sighs happily into your mouth, hikes your thigh higher around his middle, presses in to lay claim to what little space is left between you. Seungcheol is so close he can feel the rapid pace of your heartbeat, because this is not the way you usually kiss. What used to be dirty and quick, a means to an end, now has intent, purpose. He’s kissing you like he wants to steal the air from your lungs to replace it with something better.

Trails those same kisses down the length of your body. Open-mouthed at your neck, your collarbones, the space between your breasts. Teasing and slow in the space between each rib, just to watch the way your skin pebbles. Hungry and insistent at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, because if he’s feeling this unhinged, he wants you right there with him. Can’t bear the thought of still being in this alone. Not anymore.

“Legs over my shoulders.” You listen immediately, and Seungcheol mutters a quiet fuck at the sight before him. “God, you’re so wet.”

“No shit—”

He swats at your clit, delighting in the way your body jolts. “Hush. The only thing I wanna hear out of your smart mouth from now on is my fucking name.” And then he’s diving in.

He eats you out like a man starved; like he could do this every day for the rest of his life and he still wouldn’t be satisfied. Can’t help but rut against the mattress at the way you taste, the way your thighs tighten around his head, the sting as you pull at his hair. Places both hands beneath your ass to lift and drag you closer to his waiting mouth—licks at you wet and feverish, all of this seemingly more for him than it is for you, and you’ll get tired of it soon, just like you always do. You’ll tell him—

“Do it right, Cheol, please—”

And he’ll pull away and tsk, swat at you again. His responding laugh will be cocky and derisive when your body trembles again, frantic with the need for more. “What did I say, baby? Do you not trust me to make you come?” You cock an eyebrow, torn between throwing some sarcastic remark at him and following the rules long enough to get what you want. His voice grows serious as he presses a soft kiss to your core. “I will always take care of you.”

The rest is muscle memory.

The rest has a chorus of Cheol, Cheol, Seungcheol spilling from your lips as he suctions his own around your clit. The rest has you grinding your pussy against his face. The rest has him groaning at the way he’s so wholly consumed by you: the taste of you on his tongue, face soaked, two fingers pressed deep into your cunt. The rest has him saying that’s it, baby, come on my face, I know you can and feeling delirious when he finally pushes you over the edge; when your walls clench around his fingers, breathing fractured, when you grab at him until you’re eye-level and you’re licking into his mouth to taste yourself.

Tastes a lot like I love you.

“Want you to ride me,” he says, gaze half-lidded and pleading. You whine as he moves his thumb back to your clit, tracing slow, slow, slow circles, oversensitive. “Will you do that for me?”

The party seems so far away. Grows even further away when you nod and straddle his lap. Seungcheol sits up, tells you to wrap your legs around him. Can’t stand not touching you; needs every inch of his skin to be covered by you like a bruise—something deep that’ll last for days, weeks, months. The mottled colors will change, but it’ll still be there.

“Need you, Cheol,” you whisper, kissing his eyelids. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes.

“You have me,” he answers, but it sounds foreign to his ears—sounds wretched, like the words have been punched out of him. It sounds like forfeit. “Always have.”

You pull back. Study his face. Run over his plush bottom lip with your thumb. It feels like an eternity of silence before you speak. “No, I haven’t,” you insist, tone insistent but delicate, like you’re trying to convince him of it, too. “Not like this.”

I love you.

You lift your hips just enough to sink down on his cock. Seungcheol’s moan is loud and unabashed, not afraid to let anyone hear the way you make him feel. All he can think is familiar: he knows your blinding white heat; has made countless homes in your tight grip he still holds the keys to; has done this so many goddamn times it’s second nature.

He was an absolute fool to think he could ever walk away.

You roll your hips, taking him deeper like you’ve got something to prove, body moving on its own sinuous accord. Seungcheol loves you like this, when you know exactly what you want and aren’t afraid to take it. When you press sloppy kisses to his neck, the column of his throat. When he grabs at your hips, tries to move you faster along the length of his cock, and you swat his hands away. When your rhythmic up-and-down turns into a slow grind that has you gasping and breathless, pussy spasming around him.

“Goddamn, I love this pussy,” he chokes out, fingers gripping tightly at the sheets since he can’t touch you. He’s mindless with pleasure, feels himself start babbling nonsense he can’t make sense of, and it’s overwhelming, having you like this. Isn’t sure how he’s survived this long, but maybe you were right.

Maybe it was never like this before.

Usually he’d take you from behind, quick and dirty, hands digging into the meat of your ass, palm cracking down on it every now and then, imparting white heat of his own. Usually he’d have you beneath him, knees pressed to your chest, all condescension as you told him, eyes rolled back, that he was too deep, that you couldn’t take it, and he’d rub at your clit and tell you you could as he dragged another orgasm out of you. Usually he’d be so frenzied and worked up he’d take you against the door, sweats pushed to mid-thigh, forearms straining as they held you up.

So, yeah—this is different. This is a patient, sensual dance to the finish line. This is Seungcheol in his rawest form: a live wire, vulnerable, anxious. This is the unknown, because something has to come after but he doesn’t know what it is.

This is Seungcheol throwing caution to the wind, leaning in close enough to taste the salt on your skin, and saying, “I love you.”

This is Seungcheol planting his feet and fucking up into you, unwilling to hear your response. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, but sometimes bliss is just bliss, and he’ll willingly take either.

This is you coming undone on his cock, breathing rapid and ragged, pupils blown wide as you stare at him in awe.

“Say it again.”

Someone slams into the wall just outside Seungcheol’s door, and all at once the real world creeps back in: the thrumming bass line of the music downstairs; laughter, shouting, and yelling; fists banging on shut doors—but he hears you loud and clear. Presses each word into your mouth this time and groans when you swallow them. Barely makes a sound as he spills inside of you, feeling like every nerve in his body is aflame.

The two of you are quiet for a time as you try to catch your breath. Seungcheol only moves to grab his duvet and wrap it around your shoulders, smiling fondly at the small thank you you mumble, seemingly still bogged down, well-fucked.

He presses a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Okay?”

You nod, push at him until he lays back and pulls you with him, lets you use his firm chest as a pillow. That flag you’d made fun of before isn’t up there anymore, but Seungcheol feels warm at the memory anyway, almost laughs at the comment he imagines you’d make.

Clears his throat. Tries to find his courage. “I really am sorry,” he tells you again, because it doesn’t matter if he loves you if he doesn’t know how to be good at it.

“I know, Cheol,” comes your easy reply. You’re tracing shapes on his stomach that have his muscles contracting. “I know you love me, too.” You sigh, press your lips to his rib cage. “Who knew it’d only take making out with Mingyu to get you to admit it.”

A wild laugh tumbles out of him. “Fuck off.” He can feel your grin.

“You got a fucked up way of showing it, though.”

He hums, holds onto you a little tighter. “Go easy on me, I only figured it out about an hour ago.”

“An hour?” you faux-gasp, make like you’re about to leave. “I’m outta here. I know my worth. If I’m going to say it back to someone, they need to be in love with me for at least two.”

He chokes at the implication, heart threatening to beat right out of his chest and into yours. He knows he looks exactly like the moonstruck, loved-up loser he is, and he coughs to cover it. “That’s what I said,” he lies. “Two hours. You must’ve heard it wrong.”

No, it was never like this.

[7ouls]

im REAAAAALLY sorry for the likje longest wait ever but in the meanwhile i've wiorked on my oc too so i'll prob post abt it soon. sorry if this is short or bad but it took me a long time to get motivation to write this 😓

(this isnt proofread so if u see any mistakes dont mind them i’ll correct them tomorrow cause im too tired)

fem! reader btw

Daisuke never liked to rely too much on other people, he was always told how annoying he can be so that would make him even more of a weight than he already is.

Although he can’t complain when his girlfriend is the one who gets to take care of him. After what happened at the Tulpar you could see big changes in his attitude, he tried to smile at you but you can see that it’s not the same genuine lovely smile he used to give you in the past, when he was still on earth with you.

You were his girlfriend before he got the news from his parents about the internship and no matter how much you tried to convince him to not leave he still did, promising you that he’d come back for you. He wasn’t wrong, but this isn’t what you were expecting.

He had many scars around his body, barely able to move. He was put in a wheelchair for a few months, just until the scars have healed and he could get back in feet.

Daisuke’s parents found him a therapist, ignoring the boy’s wishes not to. Because after all he had you, you were the only one who he opened up with about what happened to all of them, about how guilty he felt for them. You were the one holding him in your arms after he cried on your shoulder for hours, you were the one changing his dirty bandages but most of all you were the one that loved him.

At nights like this you liked to wait until Daisuke was sleeping to leave him on your shared bed and go out your balcony to watch the sky filled with the city’s light, and when days were harder you took the hidden pack of cigarettes and light one up.

As you were watching the sky above your head you felt moving inside the house but didn’t think much of it, as it could be your pet just wandering around.

Your presumption turned out to be wrong as you heard your name be yelled from your bedroom, you quickly get inside to check on the voice and found your boyfriend on the floor. You run to him and slowly get him back on your bed. He pouts seeing your worried face checking for any damage.

“Are you okay? How did you get down there, most importantly why were you th-“ He stops you before you can bombard him with even more questions.

“I’m sorry Y/n, i just needed to drink something and when i saw that you weren’t here i tried to take it myself but i couldn’t...” You could see the disappointment in his eyes, you thought he might be feeling like a weight on your shoulders so you tried your best to comfort him.

“Daisuke look at me. You don’t have to apologise, it’s my fault. I should’ve been there for you but i wasn’t and i’m sorry about that. You shouldn’t force yourself to move too much, the doctors said that your body is still too fragile to sudden movements.” The boy looked at you, the mention of doctors saddened him.

“I’m so tired of these doctors, i sometimes wish you could be the one treating me instead. And the therapist girl always keeps trying to make me spill stuff, is it wrong that i don’t want to talk about it? She keeps asking about you a lot too, she might be thinking that you know more than her.”

“She wouldn’t be wrong, if it makes you feel any better i could try speaking with her.” He tiredly nodded at you and you both get back in bed, drifting off into sleep while holding him.

“Goodnight Y/n, i love you.”

IDK HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS. i weote it in 2 hours so maybe that why its so bad and yea im so tired idek what im saying

[eatanorange]

marauders do the candy trauma salad trend since I JUST saw a fantastic one for pjo (highly encourage y'all to add your versions/to this pls I don't have solid hcs of everyone) (evan's is fully me projecting btw)(a lot of them are me projecting <3).

Upon completion I want to add up here n not just the tags that these do reference various traumas/bigotry so be careful and mind what headspace ur in n all that pls take care of urselves k thanks love u.

Sirius: Hi I'm sirius and every time my mother considered something I did 'impure', like experience joy or get sorted in to gryffindor, she took my mouth away! *momentary zone out from the horrors* I brought milk duds!

Barty: bazooka bubblegum. *vid cuts* I'm barty and I hate my dad for all of the reasons you can imagine and I think it would be fun if he blew up. good?

Lily: Hi I'm Lily and after I got sent to magic school, all emotional ties with my muggle sister, who regards me as a freak, and my mother, who was more sensitive to her side, were severed. They didn't tell me when my dad died. I brought 3 musketeers.

Remus: Hi I'm remus and I got bit by a werewolf when I was 5, then my dad offed himself because of it. I brought moon pies.

James: Hi I'm James and I fell into limerence with someone and incessantly pursued them for over a year in ways that were detrimental to both of our mental states. I was so public about it I don't even need to say who it was. My mother sat me down one day and said "was it something your father and I did, something we said, that convinced you you need to beg someone to love you? to let you show them love?" and that broke something in me. We're chill now though, and I have coping techniques that work for me while still allowing me to be my expressive self, so I brought mr. goodbars.

Peter: Hi I'm peter and my animagus is literally a rat. I brought sour patch kids.

Dorcas: Hi I'm dorcas and my pureblood parents will never say it to my face but they wanted me to be a boy. To compensate I was sure to always get top marks, be well liked, and experience gender dysphoria. I burnt out before our 5th year, and learning radical acceptance in the place of trying to guess unspoken rules saved my life. I brought smarties.

Regulus: Hi I'm regulus and in order to be sure my mother didn't assassinate my brother for running away, I stayed behind in the abusive household and eventually became a deatheater to keep my cover, hunting down one bald headed bitch's horcruxes until it literally almost killed me. I think it did kill me in some lives. and I brought the starburst.

Mary: Hi I'm Mary and due to blood supremacist bigots, I have to go to school with people who want me to die just for having the audacity to exist. The muggle world is also like this. The school I go to does not matter in this scenario. I brought mentos for the salad and a bottle of soda for the show.

Evan: Hi I'm evan and my ex went on holiday to another country for 3 months, told me we could write to stay connected, they didn't, broke up with me via owl while still on said vacation, and then came to talk to me in person about that, denied that it was an active choice to disconnect from me, then tried to put the onus of any friendship to follow on just me. We haven't spoken since. Also I'm a sex positive, but also trauma affected ace, it was an open relationship, and they somehow still managed to be shady/inconsiderate about hooking up with someone on the vacation. I brought blow pops.

Pandora: Hi I'm pandora and sometimes I get prophetic dreams so vivid I can't tell when I wake up. Sometimes, though the future is not stagnant, I see my friends die :) I brought airheads.

Marlene: Hi I'm marlene and I have 5 brothers. 3 of them accept my nonbinary identity. The rest, and my parents, blatantly ignore that I use they/them pronouns. Then they told me if I don't have children as an adult I won't be worth visiting because it's my job as a pureblood to produce an heir. So I went to St. Mungos and got sterilized. I brought baby ruth candy.

Hope you enjoy! and thanks if you read them all! This was fun for me.

[ashkabbom]

Would it have worked? - Mouthwashing

A/n: I think it's important to let you know that I haven't written frequently for a long time, but following something new has made me excited and with a peak of creativity, I apologize if I wrote something wrong or said something wrong 😭 feel free to correct me 🫶🏽

Versão em português no wattpad: ashkabbom (Nome: Teria dado certo?)

I didn't write this in a romantic way, but please give my writing a chance 🙏🏽

Mini warnings: Mention of bullets and death of the main character, I think that's all?

When you arrived here, expectations and nervousness went hand in hand, but regardless of how strange and weird everything around you was, hope was something you insisted on having at all times. Tulpar will be a good or at least interesting experience.

You really made friends, don't think you didn't!

Having someone like Anya to talk to in the middle of the night when neither of you could sleep properly was comforting.

The dialogues you and Daisuke had were definitely something interesting, you got along well together, sometimes even Swansea was there too, claiming that two interns together wouldn't be a good idea.

Now, about the captain and him. The captain was actually quite calm, a very understanding man, sometimes he would join you and Anya at night... But he was something else. He could just be someone who was a little stressed and had a weird mood. There are a lot of people like that, right?

You remember talking to him and the captain a few times, but rarely, only when it was really necessary or just to relax.

A year transporting a load among so many stars, a load that you didn't even know what it was initially, it would be good to have a good relationship with the others on the ship, your companions after all.

You start to think as you stare at the sky projected on the huge screen, remembering the little conversation you had with your friend.

"Where do you think you would be if you hadn't come to work here?" Daisuke asks looking at you.

"Hmmm.. probably working in a supermarket I think. That was my option if this one didn't work out, so I would keep sending resumes to see if I could get a better job I think.." You say as you remember your old options, there weren't many, but there were still possibilities. "But what about you?"

"Honestly I don't know, I try to be positive about it.." Daisuke looked insecure and uncertain about where he could be now. "Would we still talk when we get back home? I don't know if I'm going to stay here after all this, their cake isn't the best." He tries to relax.

Out of all the people on this ship, Daisuke was the easiest to talk to and actually build some kind of relationship with, maybe because you two were the most positive in that situation.

Even with that foam everywhere on that ship, lost in a loud silence between the darkness and the stars, you were all going to make it back to Earth.

Maybe because you two were more naive than the others on that ship, the two sanest on that crew.

"Hey, you're a cool guy, I'm sure you'd be working in a good place!" A confident smile appears on your face, trying to dismiss your friend's worries. "Of course we would still talk to each other when we get back, we are friends after all, together here for months"

He smiles positively and you say not to go crazy before you, you laugh but are soon interrupted by Swansea asking what the hell you two were doing up in the middle of the night

It was kind of stupid. Maybe you two should have been a little more realistic about the situation. More than 4 or 5 months, shit, you didn't even have any sense of time anymore. No one had come looking for you yet. Had anyone noticed that you were missing and never contacted Pony Express again?

Sitting with your friends at that table, as if it were the day of that news, with everyone sitting together and the cake for the captain on the table.

Now, with a bullet hole in your forehead, along with your friends and that man, your head tilted to the side, you stare at the sky projected on the broken screen, wondering if this would have worked.

A/n: English is definitely not my first language, so I had a lot of translator help! Sorry for any nonsense words with other words.

I just wanted to write a little bit and I liked Mouthwashing, how the game approaches the theme of work and worker, each character's situation in relation to themselves and the general situation ^^. Feel free to tell me what you think of my writing and if you want me to write something, I wouldn't mind. 🎀

[featherandferns]

my thoughts on the rudy/madison discourse and obx 4 generally (spoilers):

I watch obx 4 for the characters. I appreciate the actors, find their behind the scenes moments entertaining at times, and indulge in the occasional interview or Instagram post, but I do not 'follow' the actors. My fanfics are about JJ Maybank as a character, not Rudy Pankow. I appreciate Rudy Pankow's attraction, especially when playing JJ's character, but writing fanfic about Rudy himself (or any other actor) is, for me, uncomfortable. That isn't to shame anybody who does write or read such content, it just makes me personally feel uncomfortable.

All this to say: I don't care about the drama. I don't care about why Rudy left the show, whether this was his decision or the writer's. I think Rudy's girlfriend seems lovely, but I am highly aware neither myself nor anybody else knows her. Rudy is a grown man. He's in his twenties. He can decide who he does and does not want to date, and who he does and does not want to spend his time with, both on and off set. An Instagram post Rudy made on his story on Canadian Thanksgiving I think summed it up perfectly: he loves his girlfriend, and if people can't get behind that, then get out.

Furthermore, Madison and Rudy do not owe anybody anything. I don't find interest or want to engage in the toxic debate of the 'he said, she said'. They're all adults, they all have their own lives, this is all between them. The speculation and pressure from fans is cruel and uncalled for. They don't owe anybody insight into their private lives. Maybe they aren't friends anymore - that's okay! People drift apart, people fall out. Yes, it's sad to see the change from season 1 in terms of dynamics, but a lot can happen behind the scenes. That's life! Also, I don't like the comparison between Rudy and Madison, and Madison and Chase. People saying 'but the actual ex-couple can work together fine' are forgetting that every situation is different! I had an ex-boyfriend at an old job; I was pissed at him for a few months but civil at work, and then I got over it and he apologised and we became actual friends about a year after the break-up. However, I have other ex-friends and ex-lovers who I could not ever tolerate or be near, and I can't imagine what it would have been like having to work with them after a falling out. If this is the case for Rudy and Madison, that's a really tough thing to navigate! Give them grace - yes they're actors, but they're humans too! The bottom line is: it's their life, leave them alone.

Following on from that, stop placing blame! We don't know why Rudy left the show. There's all different opinions and sources about who said what, who did what, who is the 'bad guy'. Nobody knows the truth but the three involved and, as I said before, they owe this to nobody to disclose.

I think Rudy leaving the show, whilst sad, is a fair decision. OBX began filming in 2019. You do a lot of growing from there and, especially with changes in writing, you can want a change. I think actors can sometimes be too tethered to their characters and it limits their future work abilities, because nobody can picture them as anything other than that character. You can still have successful careers because of this (think Camila Mendes and Riverdale; Matt Le Blanc and Friends; Ellen Pompeo and Meredith Grey), but Rudy clearly wants to explore other areas and other characters, like theatre and Indie movies. Good for him! We should support him! I don't love this 'I'm sorry we couldn't save you from your actor, JJ' stuff, because Rudy gave his heart and soul to that character and that performance. He doesn't deserve to be punished because he craves a change. It's the same as any other job/career; we all want a change sometimes.

The writers and show creators have been getting a lot of backlash too. Here's my thoughts on season 4: was it their best season? No. Did it do some of the other seasons and previous plotlines/character development justice? No. Did JJ have to die? Not necessarily. However, it is easy to lose sight of the small picture when you have increased demand and increased budgets. Netflix like 'bigger and better'. When people are given more creative freedom, sometimes things can veer off course. We can forget the original character motivations, dreams and desires by getting caught up in the spectacle. The only show I've ever seen that really keeps the characters true and consistent, whilst developing, and never forgetting a plot point, is Bojack Horseman. To me, that is the only show. It's a shame, yes, that it veered so far from season 1's aesthetic, but that's how it is.

As a fellow creator, I feel it's cruel sending so much blatant hate to the writers and creators for making the show. If Rudy did want to leave, they had to find a way to make this work for JJ. Yes, I've seen some say 'he didn't have to die' but I sort of disagree. JJ is too loyal and attached to his friends to just 'go off' on his own to somewhere else. That would also be out of character. I think the way he died, and the build-up and plot points that didn't get resolved prior to his death, is a little annoying. I don't like how it wasn't in Kildare, in his home, and in a different country. But hey - that's just me.

I know, that if I took so much time and energy and money, working and building something that I am proud of just, just to receive so much black-and-white hate, I'd be crushed. Constructive criticisms and opinions are good - we can be upset about a character dying - but saying 'fuck you' and 'we hate you' is a bit mean, in my opinion. The time and energy and work gone into this season is astounding. The travelling and set design is incredible! I mean, the shop is the most awesome thing I've ever seen!

I also respect that they killed JJ. I'm not saying I wanted him to die. I'm saying, it pisses me off when shows give plot-armour to the main characters. It lowers the stakes. You know they're going to be fine because they're always fine (think the majority of Stranger Things - there's a really good video essay about that here btw that articulates this point a bit better). JJ's death was shocking and upsetting, that's how a death (in a show, at least) should be, but it means hey, there are real stakes here. It's not fair he died! He didn't deserve to die! But he did, oh my God. It takes guts to kill of a beloved, main character. I agree, JJ was my favourite part of the show, but I respect the choice, personally.

I liked season 4. It wasn't as good as season 1, I wish they stayed more grounded and didn't start so many plot points without resolving any/all of them, but I liked it. It was entertaining. The acting was pretty decent, though the chemistry and acting when Rudy and Madison had scenes together was a little disappointing (again, I don't want to point blame at a certain individual; it's hard to have good on-screen chemistry, especially when you don't feel like it matches your character's true motivations).

Was it unrealistic at times? Yes, but OBX usually is haha. It's a show about finding EL DORADO at this point, like I can accept that they let Sarah and JJ get swept into the sea during a storm and come out fine, without a single earring out of place. Sure, whatever, I'll take it (so unrealistic, 90% would drown and you'd at least shed your clothes to help you swim and stay afloat but WHATEVER. Also put your life jackets on guys wtf it's a STORM).

I wish there was more development on the plots, done by having less plots at once, and more conclusions for JJ before his death. I felt as though we were building up to a big blow-out/resolution with Pogues which never really came. Also, don't love how they handled JJ and his biological dad. I don't think he'd be that willing to trust a random man who abandoned him so easy. Yes, he's reluctant, but COME ON. JJ has the biggest trust issues. I just don't buy it. Also, explain, please, how Luke went from being so wonderful and gentle with JJ to full on abusive? Just a bit of explanation would be nice, please. Not a huge fan of the pregnancy plotline but hey, sure, whatever.

So, yes, that's my thoughts on everything: leave the actors alone; the writers have balls for killing JJ but that isn't necessarily a bad thing; give people grace; treat people with kindness; I'm going to keep writing for JJ; and season 4 altogether gets a 6/10 from me.

I'm open to different opinions, further thoughts, or just general musings/ideas. I hope this doesn't upset or offend anyone, I'm not trying to spark drama or shame a certain person or people: these are just my thoughts and views! So, I won't be participating in any 'who's the bad guy' discourse surrounding the actors. I'm just here for JJ and the Pogues. Take care of yourselves and spread positivity in this crazy, difficult time <3 and, of course, rest in peace, JJ Maybank <3

P.S. These are my season-by-season ratings: season 1 - 10/10; season 2 - 8/10; season 3 - 6/10; season 4 - 6/10.

[persisting]

oh, absolutely. and i think we have a ton of agency as fans to create the exact version of these characters that we want based on the huge amount of writing that’s been done about them! i’m all for people picking and choosing what they want for their own personal versions of things. i think mainly for me, where the issue of “is this the puppet or the puppet master talking/acting” can come up negatively is in the posts people make wherein the poster wants to convey that they feel their chosen ideas about the characters are the “real ones.”

a lot of people really enjoy explaining dick or jason or whoever’s “real” characterization (myself included!) to an audience. the problem is that these explanations are always going to be personal to the writer of the post based on what parts of canon they personally want to vibe with and which parts they don’t. is jason secretly a natural redhead with an acrobat background? that’s been canon. does dick have a living aunt who stays at the manor with everyone? that’s also been canon. would dick angrily deny that bruce is his “father?” he’s done that on the page. would he instead directly call him “dad?” he’s done that too. does tim still have a spleen in some universe? who knows!

so mostly i think a lot of fans need reminding that sometimes your fav did the thing because the writer wanted them to, and it’s valid for other fans to see that behavior as “out of character” (because often, based on the character’s previous behavior, it kind of is.) it’s also valid to like what the writer had them say and to feel like it IS in character (hey, sometimes the writer is course correcting back to a previous characterization, or something similar.) but we all have to live with the fact that, for example, while fan 1 thinks it’s very in character for dick to angrily want to “get out from under bruce’s shadow,” fan 2 can think it’s OUT of character because of the fact that it was an editorial mandate for him to go and lead his own team and be in other books aside from batman. it’s frustrating for all of us, i think, to talk about some aspect we love or hate in a character here, and to then have someone else come along with a bunch of comic frames from various continuities to explain how you’re wrong.

i just think it’s good for the fandom overall to try to keep in mind that this is a tremendously fragmented space, and that there’s a difference between “he would/would not say that” and “he did/didn’t say it, but it seems like he did/didn’t say it for reasons outside of his usual feelings or perspectives.” this isn’t to say that i totally frown on, like, gentle fanon correction where it’s doable, or that i think talking about all the wild canons that have existed is bad or anything. i just think people get VERY assertive about things that are personal preferences in these characters, and i’ve had people insist that i “must” accept character takes that are still just personal interpretations, and it gets old. it’s definitely a fine line between fanon and “canon” sometimes, but i think people focus down too hard on what’s the “correct” canon sometimes. there are absolutely core qualities of these characters i think most of us agree on as “real,” but a lot of the window dressing is more complicated than that, and it doesn’t always exist because it was a natural path for the character at the time.

something i keep wanting to articulate about comics fandom, and characterization of comics characters, but i never quite feel like i have the right wording: sometimes a comic book character does something because the author wanted them to.

like, it’s things like two male characters being physically violent with each other when they’re emotional, or a character leaving their previous status quo for a new one, and similar stuff. batman and nightwing get physically violent with each other several times because frankly cis male writers often consider violence to be the ultimate form of male emotional outlet, whether it really would or would not be those particular characters’ actual reactions. nightwing wanted to “get out from under batman’s shadow” because editorial wanted him to so they could run him as a main hero instead of a sidekick. it’s things like that.

i think a lot of the endless essays and arguments about “correct characterizations” that circle back to “here on the page you can see the character saying/doing that very thing” are often hollow and kind of inept with this awareness that some character actions are directly invented by writer and editorial desire. of course nightwing “canonically” said this kind of dopey and contradictory thing about himself - his current writer specifically has an agenda to write him that way. of course suddenly batman will talk about how jason todd was “always violent” (he wasn’t) and “angry” (also factually untrue) because editorial wants the character to have a specific foundation for his current all over the place behavior.

like, sometimes these essays come off like you forget there are big white cis male hands up these guys asses at almost all times. sometimes they do things because it’s what they’d do. but sometimes they do things because a nerdy comic guy with intense daddy issues is making them say and do it. you’ve got to learn to separate that a bit before you publish your big screed about how dick/jason/bruce/tim is stupid/evil/abusive/annoying on their own terms, because so often the behaviors you’re mad at them for aren’t really natural character arcs and movements, they’re clumsy behind the scenes puppet fumbling. you have to learn the difference on your own.

[blackenedsnow]

Hello! I love your writing and I hope you're having a good day/night! Could you do Sonic dating someone with social anxiety and is also an introvert? I struggle with social anxiety myself and have a hard time speaking up sometimes, especially with new people. Sonic is a comfort character of mine that I'd think would do his best to help their anxious partner in situations where they're overwhelmed. Take your time write this! No pressure at all!❤️

sonic dating a reader with anxiety ; headcanons

WARNING: Anxiety

PAIRING: Sonic the Hedgehog x Reader

NOTE: Thank you so much for trusting me with this request! I poured a lot into Sonic’s support here. Remember, there’s no pressure to be anything other than yourself here. Take care, and know you’re never alone in this! ❤️

Sonic had always been able to talk to anyone without a second thought, so it took him a little while to fully grasp the extent of your social anxiety.

At first, he’d notice that you’d freeze up or look uncomfortable when around new people, or that you’d stay in the background at gatherings.

But once he understood, it clicked for him in a big way.

The idea of his favorite person being scared or overwhelmed really tugged at his heart, and he made a silent promise to help in every way he could.

Whether it’s a small gathering with his friends or a larger event, Sonic keeps you close, always aware of your comfort level.

If he sees you start to withdraw or tense up, he’ll step in smoothly.

Sometimes it’s with a joke to defuse the situation, sometimes with a quick distraction, or just a comforting hand on your shoulder as if to say, “I’ve got you. You’re not alone.”

Sonic is very perceptive of when things start to become too much for you.

If you’re at a crowded place and he notices you’re feeling uneasy, he’ll lean in with a gentle,

“Wanna go somewhere quieter?”

If you nod, he’ll flash you a reassuring smile, and in an instant, he’ll whisk you away to a quieter corner or outside where you can catch your breath.

He’s never pushy, always giving you the option to leave if that’s what you need.

Sonic has a knack for knowing when to use his lighthearted, playful approach to help lift the weight off your shoulders.

Sonic quickly picked up on the times when speaking up felt impossible for you.

If you’re at a restaurant and struggling to order or around others who are dominating the conversation, he’ll step in for you without missing a beat.

“Hey, can we get a little more space here?” or “Mind if we let my amazing partner share their thoughts?”

His casual way of giving you room to express yourself makes things a bit easier, knowing he’s on your side.

Sonic’s always hyper-aware in crowded spaces.

He’s like a human (or, well, hedgehog) shield, positioning himself so you’re buffered from the hustle and bustle.

He’ll keep you close, sometimes holding your hand tightly, or if you’re really nervous, he’ll even wrap his arm around you protectively.

Sonic’s not usually one for PDA, but he’ll make an exception to help you feel safe and grounded.

Sonic celebrates your small victories, knowing how much courage it takes.

Whether it’s speaking up in a group, meeting a new friend, or even just making it through a social outing, he’ll always be there with a proud smile, a high-five, or a quick

“You did awesome, I’m so proud of you!”

It’s never over-the-top or embarrassing—just Sonic’s way of reminding you that every step counts.

Sonic knows that sometimes, you just need to be alone to recharge.

He doesn’t take it personally; in fact, he admires how self-aware you are about your own needs.

If you let him know you need a day to yourself, he’ll give you space without hesitation.

But of course, he’ll check in with a quick text like,

“Hope you’re doing okay! Take all the time you need. Catch you soon, alright?” so you know he’s thinking of you.

When Sonic senses your anxiety building up, he’ll subtly try to get you laughing, often with something silly just to lighten the mood.

He’s not afraid to make a fool of himself if it means you’ll feel a little less tense.

Sonic doesn’t shy away from asking if you’re okay when he notices you’ve been unusually quiet or down.

His usual upbeat tone softens a bit as he gently checks in,

“You seem a little off—wanna talk about it?”

He’s a great listener, and even if you find it hard to talk about your feelings, he’ll give you all the time you need, never rushing or judging.

Even though Sonic will step in when you need it, he also encourages you to find ways to work through your social anxiety at your own pace.

He’ll suggest small steps, always patient and gentle, understanding that it takes time.

“Wanna try saying hi to Knuckles on your own today?” he’ll ask with an encouraging grin.

He’s proud of every little step you take.

Above all, Sonic’s love for you is constant, patient, and kind.

He never makes you feel ashamed or like you’re a burden.

He sees your social anxiety as a part of you, not something that defines you.

To him, you’re amazing just as you are, and he’s always there, ready to support you no matter what.

[yellowocaballero]

i see you reblogging aa, is this a sign an ace attorney fic is on the horizon 👀

I resign myself to the fact that any reblogging spree of one work inevitably results in people in my inbox asking if I'm currently writing fanfic about it. I can't complain, because the answer is usually yes absolutely of course I am.

I will say that the Great Phoenix Wright Trilogy Playthrough Of 2024 was this summer! It was very much a tether to sanity and I'm very grateful towards @lazuliquetzal for letting me watch her play and for making the experience so much fun. A very intricate bedrock of lore/in-jokes developed. Edgeworth thinks he discovered homosexuality and younger sister figures are mandatory in a court of law. We found it extremely well-written, very funny, and really interesting in character dynamics. I also got her to play Ghost Trick, which was awesome as usual. We're currently both obsessing about different things - and my fanfic to-do list is already VERY long - so no fanfic is actually in the works right now.

Of course I've already written some, who do you take me for. I wrote this just for us, so it's unfinished and rife with our in-jokes, but somewhat shockingly it probably has the densest joke-to-word ratio that I've ever written. Sometimes I want to continue writing something, but I look at it and I'm like, 'This is too good. I can't keep up this level of good. I can't reach this high again'. The short fanfic - sourced from our recurring jokes/efforts to figure out [SPOILERS FOR ACEATT3] how blind Godot is exactly, and what I would have found the most interesting - is, believe it or not, too good to keep writing.

Zany fanfic and spoilers for Ace Attorney 3 under the cut.

           As it turned out, there was a prosecutor’s lounge.

           Like a lot of Phoenix’s least favorite facts, it was both obvious in retrospect and deeply disturbing. The defendant’s lounge had an obvious purpose: confer with your client, beg them to tell you simple facts that would determine if they were sentenced to death via electric chair, let your coworkers blow off steam by making fun of you. Gumshoe is useful at the least useful second. None of these banal and extraordinarily stressful events had anything to do with a prosecutor.

           That was why Edgeworth had always wandered into the defendant’s lounge and made vague yet affectionate threats at Phoenix. If he had his own sterile room to stand around awkwardly, he surely would have done so. This felt so obvious it ought to have gone without saying. There couldn’t, like, actually be a real lounge. That would imply a lot of things about Edgeworth’s choices. 

As a result, when Gumshoe tossed Phoenix the updated coroner’s report and asked him to run it to the prosecutor’s lounge, Phoenix’s first instinct was to contemplate suicide. His only remaining link to sanity was the knowledge that running Gumshoe’s errands to an imaginary room was better than the alternative of staying here.

           Much better. Gumshoe was looking at Maggey, Maggey was refusing to look at Gumshoe, Phoenix wanted to be nowhere near any of this, and he was taking the out. Gumshoe might as well have asked him to go check if his refrigerator was running. Call him a mechanic, because he grabbed both Maya and Pearl and high-tailed it out of there.

           He had to ask for directions three different times before he even found the place. It was a place that could be found. In real life. Phoenix better go catch his fucking refrigerator!

It was also right next door to the defendant’s lounge. Had this really been here the entire time? Could Phoenix have been wandering into Edgeworth’s lobby and making vague yet affectionate threats at him? He could have even stood in front of the door and blocked Edgeworth’s ritualistic escape from his feelings. His was a life of missed opportunities.

           “I bet they have free coffee,” Maya said grimly. “I bet they have tacos.”

           “With free avocados,” Phoenix intoned. “As much as they want. Maybe caviar.”

           Pearl blasted her large and doleful eyes up at Nick. “Why don’t you put avocados on the tacos you make for us? I love them…”

           Poverty, but he couldn’t tell her that. Nick settled for patting her on the head. “Avocados are as immoral as the prosecutors themselves, Pearly. It’s a matter of ethics.”

           “Ethics are so overrated,” Maya said mournfully, kicking the doors open. “Let’s go evil, Nick. For the sake of the children.”

           The cops inside did not appreciate Maya’s dynamic entry, but nobody ever did. Disappointingly, the prosecutor’s lounge was identical to the defendant’s one – down to the cops, cheap sofa, and ugly-ass art. The only difference was – son of a bitch, they did have coffee!

           Entirely possible that Godot refused to step foot inside the courthouse unless they installed a coffee machine. But it was the principle of the thing, goddamn it! Nobody ever cared about Phoenix’s hunger strikes!

           Potentially entirely due to coffee, Godot was sitting on the scratchy sofa with his head tilted back and one earbud in his ear. Its cord snaked onto the cushions of the couch, attacked to some small black media player. Was he awake? Was he asleep? Was he dead? If they were really quiet, would he sleep through the trial and leave Phoenix to win by default –

           “They have a chartreuse board!” Maya screeched. “Those rat bastards!”

           Pearl gasped, hands flying to her mouth. “Is that sushi? Free sushi!? I love sushi!”

           “Get my purse, Pearl-chan! Grab much as you can!”

           “So it’s hereditary,” Godot growled. Phoenix winced, instinctively checking for coffee cups in his vicinity. The familiar cheap coffee table seemingly only had one, but on closer look Nick could tell that they were carefully stacked into each other. How tidy! “How did you even know this place existed, Trite?”

           One of these days Phoenix was going to start pronouncing his name “guh-dot”. That would show him. He hadn’t mustered the courage yet, but one of these days! “How could I not know it existed?” Poker face, Phoenix. Look condescending. Evoke Edgeworth. Show him what’s what. Literally nobody else you know is scared of him, therefore you are not scared of him, we are manifesting absolute zen in the face of the tallest man Phoenix had ever met in his life. He was sitting down. This shouldn’t be hard. “It’s right next to the defendant’s lounge, how could we miss it?”

           “Is that so?” Godot slowly leaned forward, like a great beast awakening from a mighty slumber. His movements were stiff and disjointed, like a fat bear waking from hibernation. “The spotlight of truth must be like a floodlight to the most enlightened defense lawyers. Illuminating all. Hiding nothing. But shadows cling to the undersides of society, and true darkness lurking underneath the charcuterie board –“

           “I have the updated coroner’s report,” Phoenix said, flapping the envelope loosely. “Gumshoe wanted you to have the other copy.”

           “Yeah, give it here.”

           “If the charcuterie board is evil don’t tell me.” Maya was plowing through a hunk of goat cheese like a rabid coyote. “I don’t wanna know. None of my business. Put the wasabi in my coin purse, Pearl-chan.”

           There was something inherently evil about having a cheeseboard at the workplace, but the legal system couldn’t get much worse. Godot didn’t stand up from the couch – he just thrust out a hand, making shockingly childish little grabby hands, forcing Phoenix to cross the entire room and put it in his hands. Pearl ran up to Phoenix and helpfully smeared wasabi on his hand.

           Godot took the coroner’s report and dropped it on the table. He leaned back, reaffixing his earbud in his ear. “Charmed. Clean us out of the nori, girls, it’s Payne’s favorite and I want him to experience suffering.”

           Pearl helpfully tugged at Phoenix’s sleeve, dying it a light green. If he lost this case because the judge thought he smelled bad… “Can you pour me the last of the coffee, Mr. Nick? I wanna be a big girl and do it for me but the big jug is too heavy.”

           “Are you kidding? You’re way too young for coffee.” The last thing they needed was a nine year old bouncing off the walls. In a courtroom. During a murder case. Phoenix turned to Godot, who was biting his tongue and barely restraining himself from cursing out a nine year old. Was that blood? “You’ll want to take a look at that, Mr. Godot. There’s a new piece of evidence that could change everything.”

           “Save the dramatics for the courtroom.” Godot leaned back again, waving his hand absently. Yeah, that was definitely blood on his yellowed teeth. Phoenix had to admire the restraint. “What’s this new tidbit that’s so important, then?”

           Was he everyone’s errand boy? “The report’s right there, read it yourself.”

           “Seems like I was correct in pegging you as the lazy type, Trite. Look at you refusing to do a simple task.”

           Pearl made an ‘ooo’ing noise behind her hands. Maya broke a cracker in half, giving her the smaller piece. “Don’t say that world, Pearl-chan.”

           “What wo –“

           “You can’t insult me into doing the most basic aspect of your job. You read it.”

           “I’m a busy man. I’m hard at work actually making justice.” But he was sleeping?! “Defense attorneys clearly have nothing better to do than eat our precious cheeses. Show me that you can do the most basic element of the job.”

           Talk about a turnabout! This man had cranked the hostility meter up towards eleven and broke the knob off. Francizka had spent most of a year almost gnawing his face off, but she had never made Phoenix feel so specially hated. “Sorry, Godot, I’m not falling for it. But you’ll definitely want to read the report yourself. It has essential information for the trial in literally five minutes.”

           “If it’s so important than why did we give it to him at all?” Maya garbled, spewing pita chips everywhere. “We could have hid it and won this case!”

           “Because that’s unethical –“

           “You never let anything go! You and your silly ethics –“

           “Silly?!”

           Godot leaned forward and swept his hand over the table with incredibly unnecessary drama. He swept the folder into his hands, yanking the crumpled police report out. He ostentatiously snapped the paper and held it up to his visor, reading it closely. He nodded several times. He even hummed once.

           Finally, Godot straightened and tossed the report on the table. “Boring! So much for crucial evidence. You’re looking at the shadows in the cave and calling them innocent of heinous crimes, Mr. Trite. Turn away from illusions and overcome your cowardice by entering the deepest depths of Plato’s cave, facing your inner demons and reckoning with the truth of –“

           “Boring?” Phoenix cried. “The window for the potential time of the murder is completely different than we thought? And I’m the one living in a fantasy land?”

           Godot stared at him. “Really?” Phoenix made a garbled noise of outrage. Godot ignored him. “What’s the new window, then?”

           “Read it yourself!”

           “Hm.” Godot angled his head to the side, facing away from Phoenix. “Hey, little girl. I bet you can’t read.”

           Going for the throat?! Pearl clearly didn’t know whether or not to puff herself up in indignation or start crying. “I am such a good reader!!!!”

           “Really? Prove it.” Godot picked up the crumpled page and wave it at her. “Or are you a liar?”

           “Being a liar is for bad girls! I am a very good girl!” Pearl reached up on her tip-toes and nabbed the paper out of Godot’s hands. She scanned the page seriously, eyebrows furrowed. “Here! Right here! The new time of death is –“

           “Are you making a nine year old read a coroner’s report?!”

           Maya slurped slivers of ginger with pitying eyes. “She channels the dead, Nick.”

           “And that’s the time,” Pearl finished smugly. Phoenix hadn’t even heard her say it. She held out the papers to Godot again, who ignored her. “Now you know the time, because I am such a good reader.”

           “You’re a diamond in the rough, kid,” Godot told her seriously. “Never let these dullards dull your shine.”

           “My name’s not Diamond,” Pearl informed him, equally seriously. “It is Pearl Fey. Don’t feel bad. It’s a very common mistake.”

           “I don’t make mistakes, kid. I’m just one step ahead of reality. Count on it.”

           “You don’t have to be prideful, Mr. Godot.” Pearl smiled brightly and encouragingly at him, as if she was trying to connive a pit bull into a doing a trick. “It’s okay if you aren’t a good reader. Or if you aren’t a good speller. I’m a bad speller but that doesn’t make me a bad reader. Being a bad speller has nothing to do with being a good reader. I am a piece of decisive evidence about that.”

           Maya looked grimly at Phoenix, who was contemplating suicide again. “We’re ruined her vocabulary.”

           “We let her sit in during murder cases, Maya.”

           “And it’s ruined her vocabulary.”

           “What’s ruined your brain?”

           “Do you need me to read more things for you?” Pearl asked sweetly. “I like practicing my reading. I’m always practicing with Mr. Nick’s court records. They’re lots of fun and very educational. I can read ‘five counts of manslaughter’ very well. Do you want to see me spell it?”

           Godot looked at Maya. He looked at the coffee table, where the papers were not. He looked contemplative, maybe. Finally, he said, “How are you at serving coffee?”

           “If the jug is medium sized I can be very good at it!”

           “You’re hired.”

           Alright, that was enough. Phoenix had a lot of responsibilities, but his responsibility to Maya and Pearl came before every single one. That conviction had been put to test during that awful Engarde case. Phoenix almost sacrificed his integrity as a lawyer for Maya’s sake - he was not going to lose it now!

           “Absolutely not,” Phoenix said. It didn’t matter how insanely tall this guy was. Phoenix was taking a stand - right here, right now. Granted, the stand would go to his shoulder, but it was the conviction that counted! “Child labor is against the law, and her legal guardian does not give consent for this.” Phoenix made dangerous eyes at a cowed Maya, just to reaffirm that her legal guardian was not giving consent. “Don’t you have your own co-counsel? Make them do your chores, and stop stealing mine!”

           “I wasn’t planning on paying her,” Godot said affably. “That’s a violation of child labor laws, you know.”

           Maya appeared to be seriously considering his proposal. Which shouldn’t have been a big deal, but please refer back to the legal guardian wrinkle in this case. “I don’t know, Nick. Don’t you think it’s time Pearl flew out from underneath your shadow? It’s not exactly as if you pay me either.”

           “You’ll get paid when you do something helpful that gets me paid,” Phoenix said instantly. Maya glumly accepted this reality. “There’s no paycheck in moral support, Maya. Godot can use his own co-counsel –“

           “I don’t have a co-counsel,” Godot said. “Do I look like I’ve received an ounce of moral support in the last four years? Of kindness? Hell has no comradeship.”

           Phoenix flapped a hand. “Yeah, whatever. Your plucky imouto, co-counsel, whatever. Just get her to do it.”

           For the first time, Godot actually gave him a baffled look. Maybe. It was insanely hard to tell. “What would I do with a – younger sister, is it?”

           Everybody froze. You could have heard a penny drop. Maya and Pearl’s eyes practically goggled out of their heads.

           Godot just stood there, ignoring Pearl and Maya but clearly unsettled by the silence. “Cream and sugar undercuts the delectable bitterness of the black coffee. A life without siblings is a satisfyingly dark roast.”

           Slowly, Phoenix said, “I’m sorry. You’re a lawyer with no plucky female sidekick?”

           “I’ve had kouhai,” Godot said defensively. “I have a certain talent for mentorship –“

           “Mentorship? What makes you think you’re qualified to give any sort of mentorship? You’re a rookie!” Phoenix said the word ‘rookie’ like how Edgeworth said ‘polyester’, which was deeply satisfying. “And haven’t you lost every case you’ve ever taken?”

           Maya looked close to tears. “No wonder he’s such an awful lawyer…he doesn’t have a single imouto.”

           “Is that the ‘hell’ Mr. Godot talks about?” Pearl asked, voice wavering. “A world with no women?”

           “You’re projecting,” Godot snapped. “Just because you’re surrounded by teenage girls all day doesn’t mean any other lawyer is obligated to do the same.”

           “Any good lawyer. Why do you think Edgeworth has an imouto.” The thought of Edgeworth with no Franciska to hone his…edge…how sad. “And Franciska has Edgeworth as an imouto. This is law one-oh-one, Godot.” Phoenix propped his hands on his hips, grinning. “Hah! No wonder you can’t beat me! You don’t know the first thing about law, do you?”

           “And he can’t read,” Maya said sadly. “Maybe Mr. Godot isn’t exaggerating when he tells us how sad and pathetic he is…”

           “You thought he was exaggerating?”

           The tragic sight of the thoroughly baffled man clearly tugged at Pearl’s heartstrings, but she quickly found her resolve too. She rolled up her sleeves, as if they were at the office and she was ready to attack Phoenix’s toilet with a scrub brush. Once she had almost fallen in. “That does it! If Mr. Godot doesn’t have an imouto, then I’ll - ”

           “Nope. His problem, not ours.” Frankly, Phoenix was just trash talking a little. If you pretended Edgeworth and Franciska didn’t exist – impossible for Phoenix, but he could stretch his imagination – then Godot was a pretty good lawyer. To be a pretty good lawyer without the massive handicap of no young girl…Phoenix better stop giving the competition a hand like this. “Come on, the security guard’s started glaring at us again. It’s definitely time to start the trial.”

           “Your face will freeze like that, you know,” Pearl seriously told the security guard. He didn’t visibly react to her words at all. Maybe Pearl was onto something… “Mr. Nick, I have a duty to my fellow man -”

           “You can practice your reading with picture books, like a normal kid.” Pearl indignantly opened her mouth, doubtlessly about to launch into a meandering and breathless rant about her favorite Newberry Award winning children’s book author. “In English, not Japanese. Reading in English is your problem. At this rate you’re going to know how to read legalese and nothing else.” Phoenix yanked open the door, shepherding both girls out. Maya quickly stuffed more California rolls in her sleeve. “Bad enough Maya’s neglecting – Jesus Christ!”

           “You can’t give me a hard time about that,” Maya said reproachfully. “I’m Shinto.”

           Obviously, goddamn Gumshoe was at the door, one fist raised and clearly about to knock. His fist fell at the exact moment that Phoenix opened the door, and Phoenix only barely avoided a royal smack on the head by via Gumshoe’s meaty fist. He really couldn’t afford another concussion at this rate! CTE was a very serious brain disorder!

           “Mr. Wright! Hey, I thought I’d find you here! Right underneath my fist too! How’s that for some detective work, huh!” Gumshoe laughed uproariously, as if his crush wasn’t about to board her kayak and start doing the death row. And as if he hadn’t told Phoenix to go here. “Well, enough playing around! It’s time to get back to it! There’s no excuse for slacking off when Maggey’s life is on the line, you know!”

           “You’re the one who sent me on an errand!” Phoenix snapped. He shut the door tightly behind him. The last thing he needed was Godot adding his two cents. Or, knowing his wordiness, his two dollars. And change. “Did you forget telling me to give Godot the coroner’s report? It was five minutes ago!”

           “What? Why would I do that?” Gumshoe paused a second, creaky and rusty gears churning in his brain. Maya made demonstrative kissy noises. “Oh, yeah! Did you read it out to him?”

           Phoenix was going to have a fucking aneurysm. “Is there some reason why Prosecutor Godot is incapable of doing his own work? I’m already doing half the prosecutor’s job in the courtroom anyway!”

           “Some reason? Uh, yeah.” Gumshoe scratched the back of his neck, quirking an eyebrow. “It’s not exactly as if he can read the thing, you know.”

           “Oh my god,” Maya whispered, “he really can’t read.”

           Pearl’s eyes were brimming with tears. “A lawyer who can’t read…he’s so brave!”

           “Brave is one word for it,” Phoenix said flatly. How could he have ever been scared of this guy? No imouto, no literacy…the only thing impressive about him was how he’d even gotten this far. “It’s not my problem if Godot dropped out of fourth grade. He’s giving me enough problems, tell him to solve his own.”

           For some reason, Gumshoe outright glared at Phoenix. Phoenix was getting used to his misplaced ire over Xirneohp, but what did Maggey have to do with this? If anything, he should be thanking Phoenix for refusing to help the competition. “That’s out of line, pal! Haven’t you heard of basic human decency?”

           “In a courtroom? No.”

           “He’s got you there,” Maya said wisely. “When Nick’s putting the ‘Nick’ in ‘panicked’, then he can do some pretty sketchy stuff –“

           “And you call me the narc?!”

           “The courtroom doesn’t matter.” Gumshoe was still scowling at Phoenix. Of course it’s only Phoenix who gets treated like this. Edgeworth insults Gumshoe all day and he’s still his biggest fan. “I told you specifically to read out the autopsy report so Prosecutor Godot could record it into his PDA. Then he always labels it with that funny little label maker of his. You gotta get your ears cleaned out, pal.”

           Phoenix turned to Maya and Pearl, silently pleading for backup. Gumshoe was making Phoenix doubt his own sanity. Normally he just made Phoenix think he was losing it.

           But Maya just looked tragically disappointed in him. “Nick…you didn’t even let Godot label it with his funny little label maker?”

           Desperately, Phoenix rounded on Pearl. He was ready to fake tears. But Pearl just looked ready to whale on him with her little fists. “How could you, Mr. Nick? I didn’t get to see Mr. Godot’s cassette recorder! I’ve always wanted to touch one!”

           “Ah, Prosecutor Godot’s things are always super fun to touch!” At least Gumshoe looked sufficiently cheered up. “His bumpy labels make no sense to me, but I think they’re super cool. Like a secret code or something. But Prosecutor Godot always dumps coffee on my head when I mess around with them…makes me put ‘em back in order, then he says I’m doing it wrong, and…I won’t say I miss the whip, but prosecutors can be so rough sometimes.”

           Wait. Hold on a minute. Several different small pieces clicked into place, and Phoenix’s familiar trusty intuition began to churn its gears. Phoenix raised one finger, and Gumshoe instinctively ducked. “Detective…that label maker wouldn’t happen to be a Braille label maker, would it?”

           Gumshoe brightened, nodding voraciously. Then he apparently remembered he was angry at Phoenix, and started scowling instead. “Yeah, that’s what he called it! And I’ve just caught ya in a contradiction, pal! You said I didn’t tell you about the bumpy label maker. But you obviously knew what it was, didn’t you? You really were lacking human decency on purpose, weren’t you!”

           Cool. Phoenix wished he was dead.

  Both girls looked at Phoenix immediately, correctly deducing the return of his consistent suicidality but uncertain of the cause. Phoenix pinched the bridge of his nose, hard. “Braille is an alphabet for the blind. You read it by feeling little bumps with your fingers. Apparently Prosecutor Godot is some level of blind. And apparently nobody saw fit to tell us this.”

“Did we gotta?” Gumshoe asked blankly. “Mr. Godot doesn’t like talking about it.”

“Yes, you gotta! Now I look like some kind of - you know!”

Sure enough, Maya was giving him the most judgmental look he’d ever seen. Her face when full-ass adult Maximillian admitted that he had asked a sixteen year old to marry him was nothing in comparison. “You were bullying the blind, Nick? I can’t believe you!”

What was it, bully Phoenix for something that was not his fault week? “It’s his fault for not saying anything -”

“Victim blaming?!”

“I thought he was just being an as - jerk again! It’s not exactly out of character!”

“Ableism,” Maya denounced. Phoenix drooped. “I can’t believe it. I expected better from you, Nick.”

“I’m literally ADHD, don’t give me this -”

“Who isn’t autistic?” Maya said frankly. “That doesn’t count.”

“Plenty of people in this world are neurotypical, Maya.” 

He’d had to explain this multiple times. Sometimes she even made him doubt himself. It wasn’t as if he knew neurotypical people. The people in Phoenix’s life either knew they were neurodivergent or thought that normal people were the freak. Most fell into the later category. Unfortunately. Lana wasn’t winning sister of the year, but Ema’s diagnosis and Ritalin prescription was probably his sole link to sanity during that case. Phoenix had a conspiracy theory that Gumshoe plus Ritalin would produce a shockingly competent person. Like everybody else on the prosecutor’s side, he had no idea.

There was no way Edgeworth knew he was autistic, but Phoenix was softening him up for the revelation. He had to take it slow. Couldn’t afford for him to run off to the Philippines to find himself and then come home acting as if he invented autism. Again. Like he did with homosexuality. Shut up about the German discotheques, Edgeworth!

“Mr. Godot is blind?” Pearl gasped. Horrifically, Phoenix was relieved that she knew what blind people were. “Is that why he couldn’t read? And you made fun of him! That’s bullying, Mr. Nick!”

This was a thousand times worse coming from Pearl. “I wouldn’t say I made fun of him,” Phoenix said evasively. “If anything, I really think he’s been bullying me.” This did not impress Maya and Pearl, who somehow only looked more disappointed in him. Phoenix began to sweat. “I got nothing against the disabled, guys. They’re - like, they’re fine! Some of my best friends are -”

“Autism doesn’t count,” Maya said frostily. “You’ll never get your Disability Awareness and Inclusion Girl Scout badge at this rate, Nick.”

“I - am I a nine year old girl now? Seriously?”

Pearl straightened, eyes widening. “I’m a nine year old girl!” Phoenix gestured towards her, emphasizing the handful of differences between them. Gumshoe nodded vigorously. “Can I get a disability aware badge? I’m aware of disabled people!” Left unsaid: unlike Phoenix, apparently. Yet another difference between him and nine year old girls.

“You aren’t a Girl Scout,” Phoenix said, exhausted. “If that’s something you’re interested in, we can sign you up -”

“Girl Scouts! That’s a great idea. I was a Girl Scout way back when. It was awfully rewarding.” Gumshoe gave Pearl a big thumbs up, as if he hadn’t casually dropped the most insane bomb of all time and promptly moved on. “You’re probably overqualified for the Legal Expert and Fortune Teller badges. You could really make it!”

That was it. They had lost her. Pearl rolled her sleeves up, puffing out her chest with pride, and before Phoenix could react she had already turned around and pushed the lobby doors open. They swung open with a theatrical flair, revealing -

Godot, just on the other side of the doors. Judging by his somewhat harried look and unbalanced stance, he had also just barely managed to avoid door-to-face impact. Or, more likely, door-to-visor impact. 

Pearl either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She jabbed a finger at Godot, who still seemed dazed from the unintentional assault. “I’m taking your case, Mr. Godot! I’ll be your co-counsel! I’ll find you innocent of all charges - um, not that!”

“I lost all innocence a long time ago,” Godot said darkly. He pushed past them, flagrantly brushing off everybody. “If you wish to scout for something, scout for that. It ought to distract you from standing around and wasting time with meaningless gossip.”

Phoenix winced. He didn’t seem very happy. But he never really did - cheerful and amused, frequently, but almost never actually happy. “Uh, hey, man. I’m really sorry about - in my defense, you were actively hiding it -”

“Classic defense attorney,” Maya announced. “Always defending himself!”

“Mr. Edgeworth says that the attorney who represents himself has a fool for a client,” Pearl said helpfully, blissfully unaware of that one time Phoenix had to defend himself against a murder charge. Edgeworth had known. Obviously. 

“Save your pity, Trite. Save it for the courtroom. So you can pity yourself.” Godot held up one hand, not even bothering to aim it in Phoenix’s direction. “Out of all of your victims, of course you would pity yourself the most.”

“Dude,” Phoenix said, “did I, like, ghost you the morning after or something? I’m sorry about it, but becoming a lawyer because I didn’t text you back is a little weird.”

“A little weird?” Gumshoe said, baffled. “That’s a crazy accusation, Wright. Who would become a whole lawyer because of a guy?” Phoenix looked at the ceiling. Godot coughed. “I don’t like the sound of that cough, pal.”

“For whom does the bell toll, Detective?” Godot said. Maya looked actively distressed as she attempted and failed to decipher what the fuck he meant by that. “I’ll see you all in court. Prepare yourselves. I don’t intend on losing to the likes of you.”

He turned on his heel, striding down the hallway and escaping them all as quickly as possible. Pearl gasped, and she immediately let go of Maya’s hand so she could set off barrelling down the hallway. “Hold on! Wait for me, Mr. Godot!”

Godot didn’t look back. But he did slow until Pearl caught up, and when she shoved her little hand in his large one he didn’t pull away. 

Gumshoe scratched his chin. Maya squinted at the departing duo, obviously wondering how Godot knew where to take a left turn at the hallway. Phoenix made a mental note of it too. For a blind guy, he was really familiar with the courthouse…which meant that Phoenix’s mistake was perfectly reasonable! Anybody would make it! “Just double checkin’. You two are actually cool with sending off a little girl with the sketchiest grown man ever? Completely unsupervised and stuff?”

What, seriously? Phoenix and Maya glanced at each other before shrugging. “If you can’t trust your coworkers,” Maya intoned seriously, “you can’t trust anybody. Nobody’s more trustworthy than a real lawyer.”

“And Edgeworth recommended him,” Phoenix pointed out. “Good enough for me. The state of California would never have certified him as a defense attorney if he wasn’t trustworthy.”

“That doesn’t sound right, but I don’t know enough about the law to dispute it,” Gumshoe said cheerfully, displaying a chain of logic that had proven extremely convenient for Phoenix over the years. Maya had once tricked Gumshoe into letting them into a crime scene by pretending that there was a legal holiday once a year where every law and police procedure was inverted. “Don’t we got a trial to hit, anyway?”

“Shit!”

Pearl’s inaugural performance as the prosecution’s co-counsel/imouto went off without a hitch. Phoenix couldn’t be prouder of her efforts. She played her part perfectly: from the well-timed timed motivational encouragements to tension-relieving funny quips, she was a natural. Her only experience co-counseling with Phoenix had been very stressful for her, so Phoenix was happy to see her shine with confidence. Pearl Fey was truly suited for villainy.

She even went above and beyond into the role of personal assistant imouto. She carefully managed the presented evidence, holding up the right photograph or blood-stained object for the purview of the court. Pearl read out any written reports, described the evidence that Phoenix presented, and reported on any notable body language. Phoenix wasn’t sure if Godot knowing that ‘the Defense looks like you ate the last onigiri he was saving for lunch…’ was remotely helpful, but it was cute. Godot better realize how lucky he was to have such a top-quality imouto at his side today. It confused the judge, but what didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” the judge said, as Pearl carefully withdrew a generic white coffee mug from a large box underneath the table. Seemingly…filled with more mugs.  “Doesn’t that little girl belong to the Defense?”

“The Defense is loaning her out today,” Phoenix said seriously. Pearl began wrangling a coffee pot the size of her head. “Don’t worry, it’s not a conflict of interest.”

“I see!” Pearl carefully tipped the large pot into the white mug. It spilled everywhere, but coffee was poured. “And what is a ‘conflict of interest’?”

“Obscure old legal term. Don’t worry about it.” Pearl reached over the table and attempted to slide the mug towards Godot, as the unlucky draftee from the audience always did. He just pointed at a random pot in the crowd and told somebody that they were in charge of his coffee today. Terribly unorganized way to do things. 

“Watch it, you senile old man. The Defense is distracting you with outdated legal concepts. Focus on the most important aspect of this case!” Why was only the prosecution allowed to insult the judge! Why were they the only ones allowed to get away with that! Seriously unfair! As if Phoenix didn’t want to strangle the judge with his own two hands too?!

The mug scooted forward a little, but barely moved. Pearl scowled and tried again, sliding the mug forward a few inches and sloshing coffee over the side again. Pearl huffed in frustration before carefully cupping her hand around the mug and pushing it forward as she walked down the table. 

Godot cupped his hand on the table and let Pearl push the cup into his hand. Then he slammed the table, throwing his head back and chugging the entire mug of steaming hot coffee in one go. He slammed the mug back on the table. Pearl carefully retrieved it. 

“The fact that the old man and this fake Frenchman saw the accused put poison in the cup!” Godot announced. “That’s one fact that can’t be denied! Not by a reliable witness!”

Pearl clapped. Godot patted her on the head. Phoenix groaned.

Phoenix got his way - as usual - by the skin of his teeth - as usual. He was going to have a heart attack before he was thirty at this rate. Phoenix and Maya waited in the courtroom lobby for almost fifteen minutes before Pearl finally came running up to them. She was beaming, cheeks flushed red with pride. 

“Great job out there today, Pearl!” Maya cheered, clapping her hands. Yeah - a little too good. Godot’s performance in court was way smoother than last time. Maybe he was just getting his sea legs, but Phoenix never underestimated the power of young girls pursuing merit badges. “Are you ready to go home?”

“Nuh-uh! Mr. Godot said he’s gonna take me out for ice cream!” Pearl thrust her hand out, shining the biggest, wettest gaze directly into his eyes. “Can I have money for ice cream, Nick? Please?”

“Typically speaking, when you take people out for food, you’re the one paying,” Phoenix said flatly. “Mr. Godot’s on a prosecutor’s salary and I’m representing a waitress. He can pay.” 

“Mr. Godot doesn’t get paid,” Pearl said frankly. “He said he does it for the love of the game.”

This was somehow the most surprising thing he’d heard all day and completely predictable. 

Maya frowned, tilting her head. It was a gesture he’d seen in Mia a thousand times. Even after all this time, Maya still hurt him in those little ways. “Prosecutors get paid by the government. How do you legally work for the government and not get paid?”

“Maybe he’s a volunteer?” Phoenix suggested. “People volunteer at places, right? Like…in zoos?”

“That makes sense!” Maya said brightly, clapping her hands together. “Zoos, a court of law…what’s the difference, right?”

“After we’re done with it, not much.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t meet the parrot,” Pearl said, crushed by the immovable weight of the world’s injustices. “I wanted to make friends. We have so much in common.”

Maya sympathetically patted Pearl’s back. “You do! You’re both so good at imitating voices! Maybe one day Phoenix can cross-examine you too, huh?”

Nope. No. No way! “Not happening. I’ve accused every imouto I’ve ever had of murder on the stand. Pearl’s merciless enough, we can’t take that chance. She wouldn’t make it a day in prison.” 

“Sounds like a you problem,” Maya said, unimpressed. “Godot would never accuse an imouto of murder. He’s a bro like that.”

“He’s a prosecutor, it’s not his job -”

“Apparently being a prosecutor isn’t his job either.”

“You’d make an unemployed man pay for my ice cream?” Pearl demanded. “For shame, Mr. Phoenix Wright!”

Phoenix sighed and pulled out his wallet. He didn’t know why he wasted time pretending this wasn’t going to happen. Pity he wasn’t in the habit of accepting the inevitable. His life would be a lot easier.

[myown-worstenemy-2003]

Play It Again, Play It Again, Play It Again

A/N: Part two of the mini-series! As always I hope you enjoy it as much I did writing it! I love seeing feedback! And feel free to request something! Let me know any feedback that you have! If you feel up to it send me a request and I will do my best to give it justice!

Summary: You're invited to a party by one of your new friends. Let's see how the night ends.

Word Count: 1963

It had been a couple of months since you had broke things off with Billy. Since that you've kind of tried to keep to yourself but everyone needs someone to talk to, especially to make it around here.

What made it better was that you met a couple of mothers when you would pick up Rhiannon from daycare, and started your own friend group. All of them were around your age and their kids were already playing with Rhiannon during daycare anyway. Nancy had a brown-eyed shaggy-haired boy named Theodore. Piper had a little curly-head girl named Rosemary. And then there is Robin, she doesn't have any children but she comes and picks up Theo or Rosie every now and then, even both sometimes.

It was nice that you and Rhiannon had some friends in town finally. Especially Rhiannon, you didn't want her to be lonely.

But at this particular moment you weren't sure if you were happy that you had friends anymore.

"Come on (Y/N)! You never leave the house unless it's work or taking Rhiannon somewhere! You need to have fun sometimes!" Robin tried to convince you.

"Yeah, I'm sure I can tell you what you do everyday. Get up, get Rhi and you ready, take her to daycare, go to work, pick up Rhi, have dinner and then go to bed," Nancy said watching the kids play on the playground.

You sigh, because she was right. You don't do anything fun that doesn't surround Rhiannon.

"Who's gonna watch Rhi though? I can't really afford a babysitter right now. I can barely afford daycare as it is."

"Piper's mom is going to watch the kids, I'm sure she won't mind watching Rhiannon," Nancy suggested and Piper nodded.

"I don't know guys," you hesitated, parties have never been your thing. The last time you were at a party that's when Rhiannon was conceived and here you are.

"(Y/N), you are 24. We are never gonna be this young ever again. Just this once and if you don't like it, you can leave and we'll never ask again," Piper chimes in, sitting on the bench next to you with a book on her lap that she hasn't touch since she got here, "We all need to let loose every once and a while."

The girls nodded, you groaned, "Fine. I'll go but only for two hours. That's it."

"That'll work! You'll have fun, I promise!" Robin said excitedly.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You were on your way to the party. Riding with a friend from work. Dressed in something more warm and comfortable than it was cute since #1 it was October and it was cold during the nights; #2 you weren't really looking for anything right now since your thing since Billy. You were just there to hang out with friends and maybe meet some new people.

As you approached you noticed that there were a lot of trucks and some haybales, and everyone else was parked on the other side of the road. You didn't even think about bringing your own chair. You figured that there was going to be enough going on that you might not need it. But past you was too ambitions compared to present you so was full of nervous at the moment.

How the hell did you do this when you were in college?

Jessica put the car into park and got out and you followed suit.

"Hey I'll see you around? Around 1?" Jessica said with a smile. You nodded and smiled back.

You stood outside of the car for a second to catch your breath.

"It's all good. Everything will be okay. Just three hours. Yeah, only three hours and then you can go home," you hyped yourself up. You brushed yourself off (like you had dirt on you) and headed toward the crowd of people gathering around the bonfire.

"There she is! I wasn't sure you were going to show!" Robin said as she walked up to you and hugged you, "Here's the rest of the gang for you to meet!"

"Everyone this is (Y/N)! Be on your best behavior!" she said, jokingly, you heard some laughing and a, 'Booooo'.

"This here is Vickie, she's my girl," Robin introduced you to a ginger with freckles. You shook her hand, "Nice to meet ya."

"You know Nancy," Robin said and you hugged her as she came up. There was a nervous looking man behind her with brown hair, Robin said, "This is her husband, Jonathan. Theo looks like him."

"I can see it," you smiled and shook his hand too. Piper came up next, "I'm so glad that you made it! We want you to have fun too."

"Thanks, it's good so far," you smiled.

"Oh yeah!" she said, she turned to look behind her, "This is my husband, Eddie. It's where Rosie gets the curly hair from."

"Hey there, I'm Eddie, like she said, nice to meet you," Eddie said, he had long wild curly hair with a denim vest over his leather jacket.

"I like your pins. Iron Maiden is the best," you said as you looked at his pins.

Eddie literally beamed, "Thank you! I collect them from music stores. These are my favorites."

"Really cool!"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Dude, have you met (Y/N)? She's awesome!" Eddie said to Steve.

"Is this another fantasy person that I'm supposed to learn?" Steve asked. Eddie looked at him with a weird face, "No, she's real man. She's friends with Piper and the others. She over there."

Eddie pointed to where a girl was sitting by herself on the tailgate of Piper's truck. Her legs swinging as she watched the fire crackle.

"She's got to have a boyfriend here. No way that she doesn't," Steve said, looking around for someone that was looking for her, "Is she Joe's girlfriend?"

"No man, Piper said that she's single. Not really looking for anything at the moment, just new friends," Eddie explained, "Buuuuut...you should try and make more than friends."

"I can make friends with her," Steve nodded and walked toward you.

"Good job babe," Piper said as she came up next to Eddie and fist bumped him and watched what was about to happen.

Steve walked up, "Hey, this seat taken?"

You looked over to the new voice.

Not going to lie, he's pretty cute.

You smiled, "Not at all," you slid over to make sure that he has enough room to sit.

"My name's Steve," he said as he sat down, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Nice to meet you, I'm (Y/N)," you said smiling.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

God how am I already falling in love with this woman already?

"Honestly, I love new wave music! The Cure is probably my favorite from the bunch as of right now, but that changes from month to month," you said, talking to Steve.

You've been talking to Steve for what felt ten minutes but it's actually been hour. You could do this all night.

"You know, I think that-" Steve started but then a familiar song came on the speakers and you're eyes lit up, and you jumped off the tailgate, cutting him off.

"This is my song! I've been listenin' to the radio all night long, hopin' that it would come on and here it is!"

You hold out your hand, "C'mon, come dance with me."

Before Steve could say anything, you grabbed his hand and dragged him up. He tried keeping up with you but he was too distracted by you to keep up. You had a carefree smile on your face and your body was moving in ways that was very bad for his groin area in public.

As the song came to an end, you kissed him on the cheek, "Thank you for dancin' with me."

"Play it again!" Steve yelled to see if someone could rewind the tape and start it over again so he could gain the courage to ask you out.

You smiled and yelled, "Play it again! Play it again!"

You both laughed and then heard the next song play, looking at each other almost in a trance.

"I-" Steve started to say but you looked down at your watch, "I had a lot of fun tonight Steve but I'm afraid that I have to go."

"Are you sure?" Steve asked, not really wanting you to leave just yet but understanding.

"Yeah, I gotta check on my-" you hesitated, "my pet. She's not used to being alone this late."

"I understand. Let me walk you to your car?" Steve offered.

"I actually rode here with one of my coworkers. So I guess I need to find her."

"I'll help you, who is it?"

"Jessica Cooley," you answered starting to look around for her.

"Jessica? She left already. Left with Matt Hargrave about an hour ago."

"What? You're kiddin'. I guess I'll ask someone else for a ride," you said a little upset.

"I can take you home," Steve offered, really hoping that you would take him up on the offer.

"Are you sure? I don't want to burden you. I can just have Piper or someone take me home," you said hesitant because you didn't know him, but you had a feeling that you could trust him.

"I'm sure. Come on, let's get you home."

You smiled, "Okay thank you."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You were looking out the window, thinking about something to start a conversation but you couldn't think of anything that wouldn't be considered small talk or just bad in general.

That was when Steve turned on the radio and you started singing along to (I've Had) The Time Of My Life.

It didn't take too long to get to your house, maybe three songs if you remember correctly, but for some reason it felt like it was taking a little longer than usual. And you weren't upset by it at all. It had been five songs already and you sang along to every song that had came on the radio.

But it was only when you getting ready to pull on your street was when Steve started to scan the radio, almost frantically.

"This is me," you said and Steve pulled into the driveway and put the car in park.

"Thank you for the ride home, I really appreciate it. I don't have cash on me right now, but I can run in and get some for gas?"

"It's no trouble at all. I don't want money. But if you really want to pay me back, let me take you out on a date?" Steve asked wearing a charming but hopeful smile on his face.

You smiled, "I would like that."

He smiled, "Sounds great, how Friday? Dinner and a movie?"

You nodded your head, "I would love that."

"Cool, let me walk you to the do-," Steve said and just as he said that, your song came on the radio.

"No way! There is no way that this song would play twice in one night!" you exclaimed excitedly.

"Come dance with," you said as you got out of the car. He followed you and started dancing in the headlights.

It was like straight out of a movie. Everything was perfect, the lights, the song, the weather, and you.

As the song started to fade out, you got caught up in the passion of dancing and the feeling of it, you kissed Steve.

It was just like everything else, the kiss was perfect.

When you broke the kiss he looked at you and said, "I'm gonna call the DJ right now and get that song played again right now."

You threw your head back laughing, "Goodnight Steve, thank you for the perfect night."

He smiled, "You took the words right out of my mouth."

[hed-romancer]

Not proship not anti but a secret third thing. And I’ll tell you the secret. It’s that it’s been YEARS and i still don’t understand the argument.

Here’s what i know and can someone please help me figure out what’s even happening???

Antis argue that writing adult/minor or other problematic ships can romanticize them and influence people (especially minors) towards them in real life. Okay, yeah, life imitates art sometimes and it is strange to be an adult and see two characters, one an adult and one a child, and think they’d be cute romantically.

Proshippers argue that fiction isn’t reality and there’s tons of other problematic themes in fanfic that no one takes issue with, like murder for example. Yes that’s also true. I’ve read dark stuff about murder and didn’t feel more likely to kill someone.

And no one can agree on what’s actually problematic.

Like both sides are right? It’s common sense that people are influenced at least somewhat by the media they read. But a lot of people who write problematic ships are either minors themselves or they’re people who’re trying to process their own experiences through fanfic, which is what we’re all doing.

And we should be having conversations as a community about when something is okay and when it’s not, but also why harass someone in their comment section when you can make your own (non-harassment) post about a trend you’ve noticed and the situations in which it could be harmful and how to protect against that harm?

Like i don’t agree with the proship attitude of “anything fictional is automatically okay because it’s fictional” but i also don’t agree with the anti attitude of “problematic ships are automatically not-okay because they’re problematic” and i especially don’t agree with some of y’all’s definition of problematic, but then some of yall don’t agree with mine either and thats how life works.

Did i get something wrong? I’m genuinely uncertain what this debate is or what side i should be taking here. I was just staying out of it but i am still curious.

[rjschoicesstuff]

Choices fandom appreciation shoutouts

This event is so so so lovely and I really want to join in hehe. I'm not great at expressing my thoughts/feelings and stuff but I really wanna try because I'm really thankful for all of u guys!! :)

When I first posted on this account last summer I honestly expected I'd probably post a few things and dip again because I usually don't get much attention on social media platforms. And also wasn't sure if anyone would really vibe with my approach to characters and stories hahaha 🙈.

But instead people were so nice and I felt so welcomed and like 'oh wow people seem to actually enjoy what I do??' And I had so much fun reading the tags left on reblogs of my art and stuff. And alongside that it has been soooo fun to see everyone elses posts and characters and leaving my thoughts on those as well (and slowly getting less shy about it too 💪). And I even started reading fanfic for the first time in my life hahaha.

I feel like I'm rambling but I just really want to say all this haha, it's been so fun being on here! I love drawing everyone's characters and other requests and will keep doing that (like pleeaase dont be shy, I love drawing everyone's characters) because it's fun and it's also kinda how I say 'thank you' for all being so nice to me!! So yeah thank you all for making me feel so welcome the past months! :)

Especially as someone who usually has trouble making friends and putting myself out there due to shyness it means a lot!

Under the cut I'll also put some messages directed at separate people, I'm fighting the lil voice in my head that's shy about this but you guys all deserve to hear it hehe, even if I'm kinda ass at expressing myself like this

But even if not mentioned/tagged I appreciate everyone who supports me/my work so much and I love seeing you guys in my notes!!

@lovealexhunt In the short time I've been here I've noticed you do so much for people and this fandom! I've loved all the fics you wrote that I read so far and love how you write Mal and Daenarya together (and the vampire au OOOO). She's so fun and I loved drawing her interacting with Ripley and will definitely do it again sometime!! And I'm also still so obsessed with the geometric Ripley art and I thought it was so sweet of you to draw that for me aaaa

@lilyoffandoms I always love seeing your art on my tumblr feed and your designs for your mc's!! And I'm still sooo in love with the Ripley drawing you did and that really made my day back then because it was a total surprise too!! In general all the art you've done of my characters has just been awesome and made my day every time!!

@choicesmc I love what you do with all your mc's, when you make picrews for them, the artworks I've seen you do for them and all the info you share about them, you're so so creative!! I love all your writing a lotttt, especially the shorter ones you've been posting lately!! I rly enjoy talking to you in dm's a lot, if it ever seems like I don't it's just me being shy haha 😭. I also love the tags you leave when you reblog my art and when you point out stuff you notice :)

@sapphoschoices Thank you for so often sharing my posts!! And in general always supporting people and sharing their work! I love all the edits I've seen you do and hope you'll keep sharing more hehe. I also read a fic by you for the first time last week and really enjoyed it! Made me wanna replay Desire & Decorum..

@rosesnink Thank you for letting me borrow your mc's a few times when I wanted to draw interactions! I had so so much fun writing back and forth about Rex and Brienne after I posted the art of them together hehe, I always love to see other people with orc mc's in general. I also really like the gif edits you make and your fics I've read so far!

@aria-ashryver You were one of the first people in the fandom who started sharing and commenting on my art and thanks to that I ended up not just  posting a few things and dipping forever like I expected hahah. I always really enjoy reading through the tags you leave on the art I post!! I finally caught up to SICSIG a while ago and it was sooo fun seeing what you did with Immortal Desires and all the extra lore and stuff and I can so clearly tell so much love went into it. And your sprite edits are also always so amazing aaaa.

@cadybear420 Thank you for often sharing my posts I really appreciate it hehe. And thank you for letting me draw your mc's a few times, I had sm fun with it haha. And it was really fun talking about Ripley and Evie interactions. I really enjoy your edits, you're so skilled aaa!! I also enjoy reading about your mc's a lot + how you write gnc characters and gnc m×f romance.

@gaiuskamilah I loveeee your art a lot and love seeing it on my feed!! I also really enjoy reading your thoughts on books, characters, themes in books etc. You make me wanna replay BloodBound so bad (and I definitely will do that soon)

@hsslilly-blog I'm sooo obsessed with your art you have no idea. You're rly funny and I rly enjoy seeing your posts on my feed. I really really love how you write characters, like they just feel so real, it's super inspiring!

@mydemonsdrivealimo I really really enjoy your art and everything you share about Jensen and Bryce. You're like  The Bryce Mutual to me, anything you say about him is basically canon to me lol. Thank you for letting me draw Jensen a while ago it was SO fun aaaa

@peonyblossom

Thank you for the cover redraw ideas you sent when I asked for ideas, I had sooo much fun drawing the Alpha cover with Kalani and Channing!! I enjoy the bits you share about your mc's and oc's a lot too!

@choicesfandomappreciation

[stellar-solar-flare]

This popped up on my dash and since you said that the conversation is open, I thought I would share my two cents, even if it might be stuff you are already familiar with and do yourself. I don't think I'm in the same fandoms as you but things mentioned here are observations made from multiple fandoms. Although I have been writing in AO3 instead of tumblr for the most part, my experience here comes from writing almost exclusively Steve Rogers longfics (mostly 50k+ words, 10+ chapters) from 2021. I don't claim to be super popular - I'm just reflecting on the relative differencies I have noticed in my engagement.

First of all, please don't quit a series just because it has been over a month. That's not a long time for an update at all! If you're writing fic, it's something you do on your free time without getting paid, so there's absolutely no reason at all to apologize life getting in the way.

From my own experience, I have to agree with the consistency and speed of updates being pretty big factors on engagement. I have noticed most reader engagement when I have been able to push out one or more update a week for multiple weeks straight. It helps people stay engaged with the story and invested when the story is fresh in their minds. But then again, I have gotten a lot of comments when coming back from a hiatus too so I think it's not the only factor at all.

Writing a lot, even if it's not the same series, helps keep one's fics on people's minds, and helps establish you as someone who writes X character (with a certain kind of characterization). I share sneak peeks sometimes, but that's just because I am too impatient to wait, they're not from 'marketing' standpoint. Personally I try to focus on writing and let the writing itself do the rest, but I do make a point to reply to comments and thank people, even if that is sometimes very delayed, so that they know I appreciate them. I also don't talk badly about my own writing, because as a reader, seeing someone do that can very easily turn me off from reading their story. (To be clear, I don't mean venting about the human frustrations of writing but publically calling your own stories bad etc.)

One of the big things for me as a reader and a writer is having multiple storylines going and having 'hooks' in the story, so to speak, so that the readers know what they're looking forward to when the story continues. Cliffhangers are the ultimate form of this but things like a character uncovering a partial piece of information that raises questions work too. I spend a lot of time establishing chemistry, both romantic and platonic, so that the readers have something to root for.

Then again, engagement always depends on the story. Some things do better than others. Sometimes I think a fic is going to be well-liked and it doesn't get much attention, sometimes a thing I thought was just pure self-indulgence gains a lot of reader interaction. Which brings me to my next point - I think that the writer's enjoyment bleeds through the story to readers; things that I have enjoyed writing the most are my most popular fics. And sometimes when I think I'll write some easy 'trope soup' that'll get a lot of interest, it's crickets. I think there's a lesson there for me.

I try to engage with people and be a part of fandom beyond writing. I read and comment other people's fics, I reblog stuff, I talk about everyday things and try to stay active even when I have no capacity to write (happens to us all). It helps foster a sense of community, and while it's not self-serving and I read and comment out of genuine enjoyment, ultimately being active in fandom and engaging with writing helps us all. It does feel like current fandom population doesn't comment as much as they used to, which is a shame. But I try to be the change I want to see in the world.

It's also worth noting that sometimes there are these 'lulls' in fandom where everyone is sort of quiet and busy with life, I assume. Like major holidays. They just happen, and the season will change again. Also, scheduled reblogs and comment replies help reach different sets of people.

Finally, focusing too much on the stats is a thing that for me is a road to madness that sucks all enjoyment out of writing. It is human to want engagement and look at the pretty numbers but again, what matters is the enjoyment you get from a story. Personally I have written a 250k longfic in a tiny niché that was commented regularly by one single person and occasionally by about five people. And I still love that fic to death and am so proud of myself for writing it.

That's my two cents, from my personal experience. As always, they should be taken with a grain of salt, and they might not be universally applicable. I wish you the best with writing and hope that the muses are kind to you.

Writers of multi-chapter fics:

How do you keep your readers engaged as the story gets longer?

I've heard from many, and seen it myself, that interaction drops significantly as the chapters accumulate (which I honestly do not even understand...hence why I'm asking this) but I've also seen a lot of writers who have quite lengthy fics where the engagement and excitement seems to stay consistent throughout.

They're receiving asks with comments and questions about the latest chapters, the reblogs are abundant compared to likes, and I'm just curious if there's anything anyone does differently to help maintain this other than just being a great writer 🤣 (which I'm realizing is probably the key thing and that there's nothing to do other than just be able to write a really good story which I'm clearly not haaaaa)

I've tried sharing snippets of upcoming chapters in the past and they've always fallen on their face, I've released chapter playlists, etc so I feel like from a "marketing" standpoint I've done what I can? And also as writers we shouldn't even have to work that hard to "promote" our fics considering people ask to be on taglists and what have you. (This is the site for sharing and ACTIVELY participating in fandom...)

It's been a struggle to keep myself motivated to finish up my series and I'm starting to wonder if there's even a point now that it's been over a month since I've updated (which I realize consistent updates are likely a huge factor as well 🙃 but, you know, life.)

Anyway. Thinking out loud here. Any advice/conversation is welcome! 💗

[hoshiszora-archived]

[spotaus]

New Age AU (Obtaining Killer)

Hey guys! Through with a bot of stuff for the day and I have a sneaking suspicion that this stress headache will not leave me until I finish some projects for work, so I *may* be m.i.a. for a hot second until they stop.

In the meantime, I want to drop this! (Unedited, unrefined, raw off the slab style)

Andddd @ancha-aus and @papiliovolens ! Hello! (Mutzelputz if u see this, the tags weren't working for some reason, I apologize.)

Hope y'all enjoy!

Ccino had convinced him to leave the castle. After nearly a year had passed since his last true public appearance. Since he'd stolen the apple from his brother. Nine months had passed since he'd sent Dream away. He tried not to think about it.

Nightmare had been finding out a lot about his magic. How it made him jittery, and how he felt like he understood so much more. How it made him deeply paranoid, quick to react.

How it made people listen to him.

He figured it was because he was scary now. The negative magic condensed over every inch of his bone wasn't exactly appealing, and the extra limbs which had sprouted from his spine now acted like his own personal weapons. If someone didn't listen, didn't give him an answer he liked, the limbs moved without him even thinking.

It had taken time to learn to better control them. Even now, they writhed in his wake. His nerves expressed through their lashing and twitching as they hovered just above the ground.

The streets weren't exactly crowded.

Upon word of the King's arrival to this small providence, Nightmare had found that many people fled from his path. His travel party of several soldiers, and himself on horseback. He'd always wanted to ride horses. The traitor twin was someone that every citizen wished to avoid.

Ccino had coaxed him outside with promises of fresh air. Apparently there were promising young members of the city guard that Ccino swore would be wonderful future knights. Young warriors for him to bring up loyally under his name, no fear of betrayal.

It had made sense, at the time, but Nightmare hadn't chosen to recruit any of them.

It wasn't to say he didn't want to. Several of the humans and monsters were very talented, and he did his best to give them praise, but he could tell. None of them wanted to work under him. They didn't like him. Rejection and hatred that had pierced him immediately, he could practically taste it.

Ultimately, they would do better here in their hometown. A place they were passionate about protecting, and with people they cared for. Night would not try to mold promising soldiers into his perfect guard. No matter how smart of an idea it may have been.

And so he'd moved on.

Night had visited several smaller shops, onces which couldn't afford to refuse him, and he bought some fabrics, a trinket, some small thing from each place he stopped by. He payed exactly the price he needed for each thing. He wouldn't bribe his people, either. The best he could do would be to remain neutral.

He did discover, against all odds, that he was enjoying this day out. Ccino was, in fact, usually correct about this sort of thing.

The travel had been enriching. Almost exciting. He'd never gotten out of the castle much at all, this was all new and excitingly mundane.

Good things do not last forever.

It was almost sunset when he noticed it. Torches being set up, a platform prepared. A crowd gathering.

An execution, came the mutter from one of his soldiers. Though he recognized the set-up, Night had never been in attendance to an execution. He was morbidly curious. The crowd held such a contempt. A broiling hunger for blood.

He wished he'd wheeled his horse away when a few people were ushered out of a nearby building.

The prison, maybe?

There weren't many of them. Nightmare dismounted his steed, and much to the dismay of the soldiers at his side, he found himself sinking. Into the growing shadows cast by the dying sun.

He re-emerged beside the stage, where the few people were lined up. Ready for death by hanging.

That trick wasn't one that Nightmare quite understood yet, but he was always drawn to feelings of intense negativity. He knew that, now. Something about these prisoners were bothering him, even at a distance, and he found himself more curious as he stood before them.

His guards, at the back of the crowd, hadn't seemed to figure out where he had gone. He had the time, now, to loom over the small group of prisoners.

The city guards, the trained ones, had likely seen him earlier at their headquarters. They did not speak even a word against him as he stared.

Nightmare stared at these faces.

A dog monster, scrappy and scarred, black fur clashing against a few patches of white. One of her ears was missing.

A pair of humans, both men, one with long, curly red hair and another with short-cropped red hair and the beginnings of a beard. Maybe they were brothers?

A skeleton. His sockets dripped with black magic, and his soul was a piercing crimson, just infront of his chest.

A flame monster, small and stout. Their flames a flickering green and purple. One of their eyes had a patch over it.

Nightmare was not great at determining emotions yet. He was hardly versed in his own feelings, but there had been improvement recently. Understanding new emotions had been coming more naturally to him.

Sometimes it hurt, but he was learning.

Now, past the blossoms of a headache, he felt a bit baffled as he subconsciously picked through the negativity these monsters exuded. Their fear. Their pain. Their loss, and their anger.

Oh.

"Only one of you is guilty."

He'd said it without thinking, practically announcing it with a voice that still felt unnaturally deep. A voice which rattled his ribcage and seemed to force past the barrier of darkness around him.

The group before him seemed startled. Confused.

Well, all but the skeleton, who seemed to only raise his skull slightly. As though just noticing Nightmare was there.

"How could you have possibly been jailed in the first place?" He muttered a bit quieter to himself.

He knew, deep down, that there were many, many rules in place for situations like this. Laws which he could challenge. People he could speak to. He could appoint members of his court to each of these people and try to earn their innocence through the rites of the law.

Then again, he remembered the rage of the crowd. The frustration of the people waiting to see these killings take place.

He didn't know what to do.

Now the prisoners, especially the two humans, were staring at him hopefully. He'd managed to shatter the negativity a bit. He believed them. He knew this was wrong.

"I don't know..."

The mutter came again unprompted.

These people would not have the means to repay him for his help. He couldn't just waive fees, or risk his court turning against him. He couldn't afford enemies being made so close to his inner circle.

He couldn't just leave them, though. Not after he'd seen the injustice of it all.

Stuck in his own thoughts, he was drawn out of it by a snickering laugh.

"Just set them free." A voice followed, "You are our King, aren't you?"

Nightmare then found his eyes drawn to the skeleton.

The others had eased themselves away from him. He stood, now, almost alone. He seemed unbothered by speaking up, his sockets held in an almost lazy posture. Tension going completely un-held.

He grinned up as the King, and seemed to watch contentedly as the thought settled in Nightmare's skull.

He could do that. Simply waive their charges. Pardon them. He could do that, surely. Many royals had done it before him for less certain terms. His mother had plenty of times.

"And you are guilty. You'll still be hanged. You know this, don't you?" Nightmare asked.

That was when the Skeleton's lazy sockets seemed to tighten with a sort of glee. Some hidden joke Nightmare wasn't privy to.

"Hmm." This was a poor choice. This was a bad decision. "Tell me, quickly, how you came to be here. Before I proceed?"

Nightmare didn't know why he was asking. He was... curious. Just like he had always been.

Very few people would ever speak straight to his face. Ccino, that was the only one who'd done it since his change. Since the prophecy. This skeleton had done it. He'd spoken when no one else could muster even a plea.

The silence he seemed to bring to every room. Broken, just briefly.

The skeleton stared at him a moment.

"Name's Killer, your majesty." The tone was mocking. "A while back a buddy of mine got into hot water, and I decided to help them out. Now, plenty of bodies later, I'm the one stuck on death row."

Simple. An admission of guilt.

Nightmare stared at him some more.

Finally, it seemed his frantic guards had noticed him. Found him. They rushed to his side, though not as fast as he would've liked. He could feel the frustration seeping from each armored body around him.

"You don't have an aversion to it," Nightmare voiced, "Killing, I mean."

Killer nodded. Unashamed.

It felt strangely calm, still. Perhaps it was because the crowd was still chattering. They likely hadn't noticed Nightmare at all.

The king turned to the city guard, still stood on the steps. "Free these four people. My judgement decrees them as not-guilty."

And, before any time could pass in the slightest. "Killer, I would like you to accompany me, before you abscond."

He'd noticed it. Killer had undone his cuffs before their conversation. Completely freeing himself from his weak imprisonment.

Killer seemed amused at the concept of sticking around to chat.

"If you would, I would like to recruit your services at my castle. I need a man who is willing to kill. And kill swiftly." Ccino said to establish an image. It was obvious now that his reputation would remain in the gutter, no matter what choices he made. He was not Dream.

Killer's sockets narrowed.

"And what would I get for being your little hunting dog?" Again, it was bold. It was new.

Nightmare was sure his expression hadn't changed since he'd come before the group. That same angry glare that sat permanently along his skull. The magic had an image to project.

His tendrils flicked, slightly.

"Payment, room, Fresh meals, and any other amenities you may like, so long as it does not break our treasury." He replied, "All I ask is that you simply obey me. And Me alone."

Not true. He'd probably ask for him to listen to Ccino as well. Once he knew for certain he'd stay.

Killer seemed to be thinking. He eyed they king, up and down. He looked to each of the guard around the king. The ones who were back in position now, though Nightmare could feel their annoyance. Their confusion.

Then Killer turned.

Then he turned back.

"Mm. Can't be worse than the ol' noose." Killer replied. "Funny way to run a country, my king. Hiring the first murderer you spot?"

Nightmare didn't humor that with a response. He was honestly shocked the skeleton had even agreed.

Though, all of that negativity had been swapped out for a glee. Something deep in Killer had changed during their brief interaction. A hope. Night could barely grasp the edges of its existence with his subconscious. But it was there.

.

He ignored the crowds as they grew confused. He ignored the worry pouring from the criminals as he had them released and informed them of their pardon.

He did not ignore when his guards told someone to keep their distance. He glanced up. Killer was standing beyond the guards, looking bored.

Nightmare, trusting fool he was, didn't even ask a guard to watch him to ensure he stayed put.

"Stand down." He ordered the guard, who begrudgingly allowed the skeleton to smugly slip past.

His tendrils kept the monster at a distance Night preferred all on their own. He seemed to take the hint.

"They're all gonna be dead by morning, you know." Killer voiced easily.

Nightmare turned to him, confused. What did he mean by that? He'd pardoned them?

"Are you deaf? The crowd wanted us dead, especially me." He chuckled, "Leaving them here is definitely going to get them killed. If the crowd doesn't rip them apart the second you leave, then it'll happen at night. There will be no witnesses."

Oh... Night hadn't fathomed that these people could turn on the innocent once declared. It hadn't even crossed his mind. Did they have a home to return to? A family they put at risk?

The noose was a fast death, but being murdered? That would've been so much worse.

He could tell, by the way they evaded looking at Killer, that he was right. Nightmare would be sentencing them to a new sort of death if he did it like this.

But he didn't have time for a trial. Or several. The sun was going down, abd Ccino expected him back. The castle needed him present, or they might revolt.

Someone might hurt Ccino.

Oh, he was such a poor ruler. He did not know his people well enough. How he lamented the lessons Dream had taken about crowds and current issues abd how to be likeable.

Night didn't know how to handle this. He was still learning!

A trembled in his hand. He tucked the limb quickly away from where it had been lightly clutching his tunics thick fabric, now hiding it beneath his cloak.

"Killer is right. It won't be safe here, for any of you." He spoke. Thank the gods it didn't sound as shaken as he felt. "I extend an offer to you all. You may stay here, or you may come take up positions among my staff back at the castle. Unlike Killer, I do not expect any crime from you, but you will be paid and housed."

The offer was met with a roar of frustration from the crowd, Nightmare chose to allow his guards to handle it. He watched, carefully, as the four looked between eachother.

The brothers agreed first. (They introduced themselves as brothers as they knelt in thanks.) Then the Dog. She said she had no family left to watch over, starting a new life would be for the best.

The flame refused, saying they would leave town by morning, and try to stay safe.

And so, Nightmare left the town with four new party members. Each had been provided a horse, each tied to one of the guards. Aside from Killer, whose steed was held personally by Nightmare.

He figured Ccino would chew him out for this, for bringing criminals into the castle when he was sent to collect soldiers, but Nightmare had a good feeling about these ones.

They did not hate him. Or fear him. He was helping them. And it felt good.

[bleue-flora]

tbh i find Interesting how everyone on the dsmp calls each other names. Either to insult, dehumanize or dismiss someone.

People call crivals tyrants, or more on cdream's case monster. People call ctommy child or a hero. Cquackity thinks of himself as a leader. Csam gets called a súper villain. All the characthers call each others names or titles either to dismiss their actions or insult them or dehumanize or hype them up very often. It's interesting seeing how titles get Said so often on the server

I mean… name calling is basically the first stage of conflict, so in a world where wars often break out it makes sense that there would be name calling especially because they are young and immature and also in more so a comedian role and that often leads to silly labels like Techno calling Dream “homeless” or a “teletubby” or Tommy calling everyone “Big (letter).”

Still I don’t think Tommy calling Dream a tyrant and Dream calling Tommy a child should be put in the same category. Tommy calls himself a “minor” and so people extend that to “child.” So I’m not sure that counts as name calling nor does hero since I believe he also calls himself that at some points. You would have a stronger case with Theseus or Tomathy. Though one is an extension of a metaphor and the other is just more silly like using Gogy. Calling Sam a super villain is more so just… true, jk lol :D he kidnapped a baby after all and I didn’t get the impression they were using it to dehumanize, dismiss or insult Sam more just get it through his thick skull that what he did was screwed up…

But yea lots of characters have been called other names like Tubbo being called “bee boy,” however not everyone on the server does call people names nor does everyone use different names in the same fashion. Some being used more so as a light hearted joke than to dismiss or dehumanize, sure often to insult but not really insult. If that makes sense.

In my mind, not all name calling is equal especially with the importance of words. To me calling Tommy a child is on a different level than calling Techno a tyrant because of the word (you could perhaps make a decent argument saying that child is used derogatorily to dismiss Tommy as well, but this is just my opinion), in the same way that calling Techno “The Blade” and calling him “Big T” is different. It’s the accusation and/or dehumanization in some of the name calling that makes them significant as well as context. Calling Quackity “flatty paddy” is more sexual harassment and even calling Fundy a “furry” is pretty offensive when I’m pretty sure he is a canonical fox and don’t even get me started on all the names they’ve used to dehumanize Dream from “ghoul” to “snake lizard thing” I’ve already talked about [here]…

Anyways I’m not sure where I’m going with this but just to say I’m not sure your specific examples are very applicable to what I think you are more so referring to. Which if I’m right is more so about how it’s interesting that there are so many labels thrown around when in real life that’s not as much of a thing, which again I think can be attributed to comedian roles, certain people being high school age/just silly boys, and certain character’s intentional blatant dehumanization tactics. It is interesting though…

[kittykatninja321]

On both a watsonian and doylist level Dick Grayson is white passing