#thank you for being a part of this adventure with me

[interact-if]

Black History Month Author Spotlight: Lapin

To kickstart the Black History Month Author Spotlight series, I'd like to introduce everyone to our first IF author, Lapin (@harlequinoccult)!

(I had a ton of fun reading Lapin’s answers, and I’m sure you will too! Read on for a celebration of ‘weird,’ Lapin’s Black southern gothic / horror influences, and how a D&D game could lead to interactive fiction!

Lapin, thank you again for your candid, humorous responses, I am very honored to have gotten to know you better :D)

Author: Lapin

Black creole and cajun, artist and writer, and wannabe game developer

Games: Slaughter Squad (Horror, Slasher, Romance)

Synopsis: YOU HAVE A HUNGER A HUNGER THAT YOU’VE BEEN NEGLECTING For the most part, you’re a pretty normal mid-20-something year old who lives in a shitty apartment in the city. Well, except for one thing. Your.....”Associate” Carter “Dollface” Abernathy. Who is a murderer, and quite frankly, a sloppy one at that. And you’re the accessory to his crimes. No matter what way you’ve gotten to know the man, or how you feel about him, you’re stuck with him, and stuck with just being his little “helper” ........Or are you? Especially when you’re suddenly given a....Unique opportunity.

Games: The Valley of Luck (Fantasy, Adventure, Romance)

Synopsis: The Valley of Luck was said to be a myth. Something that grandparents would tell their grand-kids around a campfire. Even those who worshiped Lucian, The God of Luck, thought it nothing but an old wives tale. Until, one day, a man with an arm made of solid gold started telling people that he'd been there, that he'd seen the Valley. Word spread quickly, and suddenly, every continent was alight with the rumor that The Valley was real, that it could give you all the riches you could ever want, and then some. However, your quest, whether related to The Valley or not, will lead you down a much stranger path.

Quote from the interview:

My upbringing was a bit odd. I am the youngest of three, two older brothers, one being a half brother, in a black military household… Middle school Lapin was a jock. But, lo and behold, the internet started getting more popular and that kid's brain exploded from internet exposure, for better and for worse. … I feel that there is a specific and niche demographic of people like me that were raised by early 2000s to 2010s internet. And on that era of internet, were creepypastas, online horror, early ARGs….I ADORED internet horror, which was my gateway into classic horror, funnily enough. Slaughter Squad, in my eyes, is a letter to that black kid that wanted to be weird. Be weird, be messy, see a fucked up movie, get more out of life.

Read on for the full interview!

Tell me more about yourself! What are some things new readers or long-time readers might not know about you?

Both parts of my family are 100% from Louisiana, New Orleans and the deep south. My moms side have been there so long, we have two streets named after us.

Can you tell me a bit about what you’re working on right now and your journey into interactive fiction? What inspired the game/story you’re currently writing?

My main project, of course, is Slaughter Squad. I love slasher movies and horror media in general. But what I always noticed with horror/romance, at least in the visual novel scene, is that the main character is nearly always the one getting screwed over, so I thought, well, what if the bad guys actually are your peers? How would this dynamic change if they don't see you as prey? I never thought that premise would appeal so much to so many but hey, I can't complain! I adore seeing people having fun with the silly little concept I had.

Now, my secondary project, The Valley of Luck. Some may not know this, but this story is based off of a D&D campaign I DM'ed back in the day with my friends. All the ROs are NPCs that my friends had, or where going to encounter. I won't lie, I did shy away from it and changed some things when the whole debacle with Wizards of the coast (the company that "owns" D&D) Where making some...questionable decisions. But this story is my baby. My first born. This one has been in the works far longer than SLSQ and has a lot of background lore that I hope I get the opportunity to share.

I do have a few other projects bumping around, One I am particularly excited for, But that one will have to wait a little bit~

How has your identity, heritage/background, upbringing, or personal experiences influenced your storytelling or writing process? OR How does your work feature aspects of your identity / experience?

My upbringing was a bit odd. I am the youngest of three, two older brothers, one being a half brother, in a black military household. I never felt that I truly had a sense of identity until that household inevitably split up. Everyone talks about being the weird kid in middle school, but no one mentions being the "normal on the outside but wants to be the weird kid so bad its painful on the inside but can't because you were told that stuff is 'white people shit' " type of kid.

Middle school Lapin was a jock. But, lo and behold, the internet started getting more popular and that kid's brain exploded from internet exposure, for better and for worse. I was a little shitter on the internet, I can't lie about that, as much as I want to. But I feel that there is a specific and niche demographic of people like me that were raised by early 2000s to 2010s internet. And on that era of internet, were creepypastas, online horror, early ARGs....I ADORED internet horror, which was my gateway into classic horror, funnily enough. Slaughter Squad, in my eyes, is a letter to that black kid that wanted to be weird. Be weird, be messy, see a fucked up movie, get more out of life.

What does your writing process look like? Any rituals or habits? Any tips, tricks, philosophies or approaches that have worked very well for you?

Let your characters speak through you like you're being possessed by a demon.

What’s the one thing you’re really proud of that you’ve written so far? Do you have a favorite character or scene that you’ve written?

I am so serious.

is it wildly inconvenient? yes. does it help your writing a ton? also yes. Doing Roleplay with friends is a fantastic way to learn to do this. being a DM for a D&D game has basically made it so characters can simply speak from my brain at any given moment. It's also annoying because some of these people do NOT shut up. Learning how a character would react on the fly does wonders for dialogue writing and character analysis. Roleplay with your friends, or hell, strangers who are down to clown that could become friends. Be cringe. be free.

I love the opening to Slaughter Squad and if you told me to rewrite it with a gun to my head I would tell you to shoot me. I love how punchy it is and it came out exactly how I wanted it to. I don't play favorites with characters (<- lying) but my two favorites to write are the stinky little bastard cat Sterling in TVoL and.....Carter, from SLSQ. I love writing complete bastards. One being lighthearted and gets a pass for it because he's just a kitty cat and the other you want to actively beat his face in with your bare hands. It's SO funny.

If you were to say one thing to your readers, other authors, and/or the interactive fiction community: what would it be?

Write. Write it now. Doesn't have to be good doesn't have to be polish all that matters is that you WROTE IT. All the bells and whistles can come later!!!! Stop thinking about the later and think about the now!!!! Write what you love and never give two shits about if it's cringe!!! Be excellent to each other!!!

Any books, music, movies etc. you’re obsessed with at the moment, or which changed your life (or perspectives on something)?

GO LISTEN TO CHROMAKOPIA BY TYLER THE CREATOR RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!

This-or-that segment: (bold = Lapin’s pick)

Coffee or tea?

Early mornings or late nights?

City or countryside?

Angsty or Cozy romances? (Or enemies-to-lovers or best-friends-to-lovers?)  

Steady progress or frenzied binge-writing followed by periods of calm?

Summer or Winter?

First drafts or editing?

Introvert or extrovert?

Plotter or pantser?

Characters or plot first?

Lapin’s custom “this-or-that” pairing: Rain or Shine

More on Black Southern Gothic:

Black southern gothic can vary a lot, but when I think of it, I think of old semi abandoned wood shotgun houses in the swamp, all white tiny baptist churches where the white paint is peeling from the heat and humidity, riding horses down a dirt paved street while people still ride by in their old busted down 1960s chevys. Old plantation houses that have been reclaimed by the swamp. The dark, humid heat of the night on a street with no streetlights. Every house you see is absolutely haunted by something and not just ghosts. Voodoo and hoodoo is different than what people will tell you it is.

Sassafrass, Cypress and Indigo by Ntozake Shange, Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jessamin Ward, and anything by Toni Morrison 100%.

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 41

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 500

Masterlist

———————————————————————

"Is this a joke?!"

That morning, I had just shared the news with Alexia, who was left completely stunned.

“No, no, it’s very serious!”

Alexia threw her hands in the air. 

“You’re out of your mind! On the Richter scale of bad ideas, you’re at a level 9 right now!”

“I just want to invest my energy in this list with Philippe, that’s all…”

“Oh sure, there’s no ulterior motive, like the sheer joy of driving Lucy mad with rage!”

“Even though I wouldn’t hate that idea, it’s not the main reason!”

Alexia pressed on: 

“How do you plan to move on like this? You’ll have to see her throughout the campaign! And you’re in an eligible position! You’ll end up seeing her at council meetings and the like…”

“Exactly, that proves I’m moving forward!”

“Ona, this is a terrible idea, I’m telling you… When are you going to tell her?”

“Oh, she’ll find out in a week, after the list formation meeting…”

I smiled.

---

The meeting unfolded in the lively, enthusiastic atmosphere typical of the start of a campaign—so full of promise. It was about introducing the entire list, fine-tuning Philippe’s program, and deciding on a preliminary action plan for the coming weeks: where to distribute flyers, which key points of the program to emphasize, organizing public meetings and rallies, etc. 

I knew a good part of the team, having worked alongside them during the last elections. This time, I had more responsibility, having been placed in a potentially electable position. I knew it would mean a lot more work on top of my job, and even more if I ended up being elected as a councilor. 

That evening, I felt proud and excited to be part of the adventure. At the same time, I couldn’t stop thinking about the next day. The regional newspaper would publish the names on our list, and Lucy would quickly learn that I was part of it. I couldn’t help but imagine her reaction, the look on her face when she read my name.

---

The next morning, I arrived at the office, newspaper in hand. The front page headline read:  Philippe Arous, on His Way to Winning City Hall.  As I predicted, my name was mentioned inside. 

At around 10 a.m., I received a message from Lucy on my phone. I took a deep breath and opened it.

  You’re such a little bitch , Ona.  

Ah, the return of the old Lucy. Provocative as ever. She must have been fuming.

  I’m just trying to match your level.  

Her reply came instantly: 

  How could you do this to us?  

That was rich, coming from her, of all people.

  Us? I hope you’re joking! There never was an “us”!  

  This isn’t a game, Ona! Is this your way of getting revenge?  

I had expected her to say that.

  Thank you for the insight, but for your information, I worked on the last election. You’re not the center of my universe.  

She responded with a message that startled me. It wasn’t from Lucy, the person—it was Lucy, the political animal, speaking.

  You know how brutal a campaign can be, Ona. There won’t be any room for feelings…  

She was right. There wouldn’t be any room for feelings

[thinkanamelater]

Tagged by @emmyllou (ty!) to post my wip titles! This sounds fun, though i don't always have titles already figured out on the wip stage, so we'll see what happens! Also i have Many Wips, so i probably won't go through all of them. That being said, let's go!

[Absolution/Southern Reach] "For the hell of it" - this is basically pwp to be honest (i'm not disclosing the characters involved for spoiler reasons and also because i kinda find the secrecy fun lol)

[JS&MN] "emmaflora". That's it that's the name for now. They are supossed to go on a little adventure to Fairie. Some day i'll work on it

[Neverwhere] "jealousy, jealousy" this was supossed to be a marquis/richard, with the Marquis getting jealous of Richard getting along with his brother Peregrine. but i don't feel like writing for this fandom for the foreseeable future

[JS&MN] "arabella pov" again, yeah, that's just what the name is. It's supossed to be Segundus/Strange/Arabella from Arabella's pov, as you might have suspected

[JS&MN] "raven childermass" i have no idea what this was supossed to be and reading the three disconnected sentences i've written down didn't help

[JS&MN] "rich blood" ohh this one i still don't know how to approach but i like toying with this idea: lascelles/(vampire) segundus

[JS&MN] "tom/strange/segundus" i had completely forgotten about this!! An equal parts pwp/get together fic. One day it'll be written. Maybe

[JS&MN] "childervamp" childermass/segundus vampire au. That's pretty much it

[Coffin Run/Dimension 20] "dretzel" Drago/Wetzel kink discovery and negotiation

I have so much more but i'm stopping here lol. Feel free to ask me questions about these wips if you wanna! Thanks again Emmy for the tag and i'm tagging uhhhh @study-in--scarlett and @mimiso-soup (if you want to!)

[smixhino]

Sonic The Hedgehog 3: A Perfect Blend of Mediums (Sonic 3 Review)

Released on December 20th, 2024, and officially the 21st in the UK, the third in a series of well-known blockbusters by Paramount Pictures, ‘Sonic The Hedgehog 3’ continues the trend of these films becoming more like the games they are inspired by, breaking away from the trends of typical kids movies to deliver a quality experience for both general audiences and fans of the source material alike.

An all-star cast was brought in for this, including Jim Carrey in a double feature, James Marsden, Tika Sumpter, Idris Elba, Keanu Reeves, and more to deliver the story with engaging performances. Speaking of, the film features Team Sonic on yet another adventure to stop a new threat, a mysterious hedgehog named Shadow. Along the way, Robotnik’s long lost grandfather Gerald joins Shadow and his grandson together, creating higher tension for the heroes on a quest with higher scales than ever before.

It’s incredibly clear that director Jeff Fowler and several others on the team are very big fans of the source material and want to create something truly special out of it. First off, the CGI is absolutely incredible, and a remarkable step up from the first two movies. In basically every scene, the characters look completely natural and don’t clash thanks to the textures and lighting, making them feel like a completely normal part of the world, meaning that your immersion won’t be broken at all. Because of this, you manage to feel every scene involving them, whether it be the fast-paced action or strong emotional moments, truly leaving a profound impact. The mise-en-scene as a whole is incredible, with settings like the G.U.N HQ, Eclipse Cannon, or just straight up space, all looking incredibly natural and well-done, to where you’re in constant awe at what you’re looking at. Everyone also looks incredibly dressed and fitting for whatever scene they’re in, further enhancing the tones of the scenes, especially comedy in the case of the Robotniks.

Special mention can also go to the cinematographers and choreography team in this film, because they pulled out all the stops for this one. The action in this movie is absolutely insane, with every moment involving it being incredibly dynamic with so many camera angles and tracking shots that make the movie such an exciting watch. One scene in particular makes great use of those tracking shots that help keep the immersion going and the blood pumping. The way the characters are framed also helps with this, helping them be intimidating and hilarious when the time calls for it. Shadow especially gets this treatment, with every scene involving him feeling like an event with the way he’s framed. It’s all truly impressive work, and much like the CGI, a massive step up from the first two films, which, while good, cannot compare to how amazing the action was here. It’s honestly night and day, as Sonic 3 is so much more articulated and expressive with it’s action that it honestly makes the first two look a bit pathetic in comparison.

The humour is where a few of my problems come about, though. This is obviously subjective, due to humour itself being such, but for me personally, some of the jokes didn’t land. Some were definitely really funny, don’t get me wrong. I especially loved ‘Revenge Guac’, but some others didn’t land for me unfortunately. The main problem is that some just last too long, to the point where I do wish they would get to the next scene to advance the plot, but they just drag on. They also can interrupt some very pivotal and exciting moments that make you wish they would cut back to the moments that get you hyped. One moment especially took me out of it and if I could swap back to the exciting action and skip the comedy, I would do it in a heartbeat. But, as I said before, many of the jokes do land for me, and I imagine many others, so overall I would say the comedy of this film is one of it’s positives, and even if the joke itself isn’t funny, a member of the cast may still deliver it well, or the comedic timing of it makes up for a lame punchline. I would still consider this movie pretty intentionally funny at times.

Speaking of the cast, they absolutely brought their a-games for this. Jim Carrey is at his absolute best here as both Ivo and Gerald Robotnik. He of course portrays the zaniness and tomfoolery he and one of his characters is known for very well, always managing to be humorous and cartoony. He does, however, manage to convey some serious moments surprisingly well, showing the range he has and why he’s a great actor. Speaking of great actors, Keanu Reeves absolutely killed it as Shadow, which makes sense given his roles like John Wick. He manages to convey Shadow’s pained and sullen emotions perfectly, making his character clear and entertaining to the audience. Shadow’s character was incredible in this, which I will get to later, but Reeves’ performance elevates it. Elba as Knuckles and Colleen O’Shaughnessey as Tails were both great, much like in Sonic 2 and the Knuckles TV show, with their lines all being delivered greatly for the scenes and elevating their tough but funny and heartwarming respective characters greatly. The same can be said for James Marsden, Tika Sumpter, Krysten Ritter, Natasha Rothwell, Shemar Moore, Lee Majdoub and Adam Pally as the human characters, all being fairly important for the first few and helping deliver the emotions of the scene really well, such as the heartwarming family moments, and one scene especially manages to convey the sadness and tension without the need for dialogue thanks to Tika. But special mention has to go to Ben Schwartz as Sonic, who is the best he’s ever been. He manages to show Sonic in a way unlike the previous films, and delivers a surprisingly wide range for his voice that shows off how great of a voice actor he is, showing cockiness, sadness, and even rage unlike anything before. It’s all incredible work from everyone in the cast.

I think it’s about time I talked about the plot now, huh. It’s easily the most intense Sonic movie, with stakes unlike anything the previous films had. Where those ones just dealt with stopping an evil guy, this one does still have that, but on a global scale. By ramping it up like this, it draws audiences in and makes them wonder what will happen. Once again, Shadow stole the show, as despite his surprisingly little screentime, he managed to push the plot along greatly, feeling like a threat and keeping the story engaging thanks to his influence. Everyone else is great too, with it feeling like every character that was involved having a significant part to play. This is a big step up from the previous film, where it felt like some characters, mainly Tails, didn’t get to do anything too important. Here, everyone gets involved and it’s really nice to see. One problem I do have with the film’s plot, however, is the way it’s paced. Especially in the first act of the movie, it feels like some of the scenes go by really fast and don’t have that much time to sink in or leave much of an impact. As such, it does leave a feeling of whiplash going from one scene to the next before it truly sunk in. There is also the problem of some scenes feeling like they’re missing. What I mean is that it feels as if there was a scene cut from a point before a pivotal moment that could better justify said moment, such as with Gerald’s character and what happens with him. If these were in place, and this film had a longer runtime, this could likely have been alleviated. Regardless, these problems don’t drag the movie down all too much, especially by the final act. This film’s third act is basically perfect, from the amazing and dynamic action, the incredible performances, the high stakes, and the insane looking setpieces and characters, it all combines together for an absolutely breathtaking conclusion.

But now for why I titled this the way I did; why Sonic 3 is a perfect blending of mediums. I have been a Sonic fan ever since I was five years old, and I have been incredibly satisfied with the previous two films to see the characters I love so much on the big screen. That does come with the problem, however, of these not really feeling like video game movies, and more like movies that involve video games. The first one especially feels like a rather generic buddy-cop movie but with Sonic, and the second film does also fall into that trap, despite being a big step in the right direction. But, Sonic 3 was honestly perfect. It adapted so many elements from the games to make an engaging story for both Sonic fans and general audiences. Sonic Adventure 2, especially, was heavily drawn from for adaption, and since that’s my favourite Sonic game, how could I complain? Most of it is based around that, from Shadow’s character arc and overcoming his trauma, to Gerald trying to destroy the world, to journeys across said world. I will admit, Gerald is a very heavy departure from how he is in the games, and it may alienate people who get into the series from the movies, so I do wish he was handled a bit differently to better ease people into the franchise. Sonic himself is also victim of this, what with him being a static character who inspires others in the games, but here he does have a character arc of becoming part of a team, but I honestly don’t mind it. Regardless, this feels like a film that isn’t afraid of being a video game, but still knows that it’s a film first and foremost. One example of an opposite problem to the first two films is 2023’s Mario movie, which I did really like, but it was lacking in terms of story and overall value beyond it being an adaptation of a series I like. Sonic 3, in my opinion, strikes a perfect balance, being able to entertain general audiences but also feel like a movie for Sonic fans above all else. This can be felt through all the references to the source material, from iconography to setpieces. It feels like a Sonic movie, and not just a general audiences movie.

That is also why I have neglected to mention the film’s soundtrack. The first two films were fairly lacking in terms of being adaptations of a series known for iconic music, being rather generic action and family music throughout. As you can guess, Sonic 3 picks up the slack. Not perfectly, mind you. There is still plenty of basic rock and orchestra throughout, and there is still a way to go before something like, again, the Mario movie, which had sound cues all throughout, but it’s a big step up. Many leitmotifs from the games are lifted, like level clears, level themes, and main themes from the games themselves. Sonic Adventure 2 and it’s main theme, ‘Live and Learn’ absolutely got this treatment the most, however, and I could not be happier, as it elevates the scenes (especially one in particular) to be absolutely amazing.

Overall, while certainly not a perfect movie in regards to it’s pacing and some of it’s writing, Sonic The Hedgehog 3 has certainly proved that video games can make compelling stories. With generally great writing, outstanding performances, superb music work, breathtaking cinematography and action, and so many references that make it proud to be a Sonic movie, I can say with no hesitation that this is not only a great movie, but an incredible Sonic movie, and in my opinion, the best video game movie yet.

Objectively, this movie is more than likely a 7 or an 8 out of 10, but my love for this franchise, as well as how well things were executed were so great in my opinion, it made for one of my favourite movies of all time, so I will be giving Sonic The Hedgehog 3, a 10 out of 10.

The movies aren’t done either, with Sonic 4 already being confirmed and set for a release on March 19th 2027. This, combined with the amazing game that was Sonic X Shadow Generations releasing on October 25th last year to great reviews and fanfare, means that Sonic has been doing better than ever, and I for one, can’t wait to see where it goes from here.

[ms0milk]

𝟏𝟑 | 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐳𝐤𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐠

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"Inside of you, fury has been replaced by something black and entirely unfocused. He twists to glare at what has caught him under the arm. He blinks when he sees it is you."

no cw memories of an overprotective prince and high fever. author is blatantly in love with Kirishima. whole apologies, half apologies, wordless promises, technical treason. learning how to speak softly. covering each other's mouths so the truth can't slip out because I want them to kiss as badly as you do. somewhat suggestive. nonviolent touches in the palatial bedroom of a long-dead prince. part ii: fin 6.7k

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Mina Ashido is sick, not like you finally breathing softly on a bed the size of a merchant village, but with guilt. She flicks a bric-à-brac she found on some grand writing desk and Denki punches her shoulder when her nail taps the metal absentmindedly. Click. Thud.

Their eyes dart to the far side of the room across a row of white windows and stop on the knotted body of their prince, folded like a trench soldier on a chaise half his size. His hair shags over his sleeping face and crossed arms but Mina can still see the veins of his jaw, clenched and dreaming of adrenaline.

One loud sound might be it for them– Bakugou would eulogize sleep schedule before skinning them like fish but it’s four in the afternoon and Mina knows it’s actually because your fever broke this morning and he would detonate if anyone disturbed you.

You can lay there like an angel because you never really fall asleep, right? Sick as a dog and dreaming of work. Sero pokes his head inside for a second to check the firewood cache and steps out again. Kirishima wears a path from the kitchen to your new bedroom with his constant lumber deliveries because he knows you wouldn’t want to see him at your bedside. Dead, conscious, or otherwise. All four of them rot.

You make a spectacle of the prince wherever he’s seen with you and this time you weren’t even awake to witness your destruction. Bakugou, dripping wet for some reason, roared through the halls of Takoba at midnight which wouldn’t have been special save for how tightly he held you and how little you moved. Safe but limp in the crook of his neck.

The castle at midnight is so much more lovely than during the day. There are no accusing Takoban eyes to make your Alderan shoulders itch and there was no loss of dignity in practicing her waltz in an empty ballroom. Mina swayed safe and alone and filled with excitement for the impending party. She anticipated Uraraka and practiced her flirtiest glances to deploy when the soldier inevitably found her, as she did every night, and sent her back upstairs. Mina was just a mage after all, not a lord or lady. Not a royal guard.

Boom! Rattled the ceiling from the floor above and where Mina was expecting a round-faced girl she’d gotten a heart attack. She snapped her candle in a startled fist at the first familiar eruption and darted up two staircases to Kirishima’s quarters with the second and third.

The champion was already half dressed. The heartbeat of the castle woke him up, the sound of hundreds of little bees mobilizing at royal orders.

They joined the flocks of servants and butlers in their night clothes all crowding, choking yawns, and rushing through the hallways, up higher and deeper into those frozen parts of the castle where their prince’s fury vibrated. The place no one dared breathe since the king left eleven years ago.

The North Wing was closed forever and someone had lit a spark at its highest point. Maids to her right, butlers and nurses to his left, Kirishima and Mina became insignificant in the river of nightgowns and candles and slippers and whispers. There is always more staff in Takoba than soldiers. Who could he have possibly picked a fight with at this hour? The farther Takobans hiked, the deeper their bones felt the cold in this place no one should be. Death march.

“Katsuki!” Someone rasped. The champion hoisted Mina onto his shoulders when they could no longer force themselves forward up stairs and through archways. Only little Shuzenji’s great big voice called out clearly for the crowd to hear, “Katsuki– you’ll be arrested, this– this is, I mean, you’re– fuck.”

At the end of the hallway, two red doors hung open, one truly dangling by its top hinges. The prince crouched just inside, squat by the light of a beautiful fireplace and its fine tinder. Chairs and ottomans, a writing desk, curtains and rugs, all delicate and silver and crushed and melting and screaming with moisture in a white Alderan fire.

“She needs fresh air and a fucking fireplace.”

You were melting in his arms too, quietly.

Sweating and indifferent to how carefully he supported the back of your head or with what level of self control it took for him to surrender you into the lap of the exasperated Takoban doctor. 

“This is a lot of fuss for a fever, Katsuki.”

“Get useful or die trying.”

Six footmen at the front of the crowd panicked at his words and knelt immediately to collect splinters from shattered furniture. They winced as the crowds continued to push around and above them to get a view of just what the Alderan guest would do with Prince Touya’s long dead bedroom.

He knelt in it. When the fire in its place wheezed, he fed it the dead boy’s gilded furniture and knelt again near you.

He lurched but didn’t strike when you were moved from the floor to the bed and found a seat again. He glared at loud noises from the foot of the bed but sat still as superstitious servants trembled while lighting candles. He rumbled when Princess Fuyumi squeezed herself through the frozen crowd with Uraraka in tow and immediately made an order for fresh bedlinens and firewood because before anything, before she was even a sister she was a saint.

He didn’t do too much more than that. He sat like a threat until dawn while staff and nurses buzzed around to make the North Wing breathe again. He waited for arrest.

He frowned at his Alderan company as they hovered in the doorway and sometimes he let them sit with you when he knew he needed to sleep. He balled his fists as he told them your misunderstanding and nothing else. More than anything he waited for you to wake up.

Prince Bakugou sleeps like a psychopath, you bewilder as you rub your eyes. He’s still pretty, knotted half a million ways to hell on the velvet chaise across the room and seeing him asleep is much more unusual than seeing him surrounded by books like this. There’s a pile at his feet and another at his head and a console table between them for his teacup and a pen.

It’s less scary to think about touching him when he’s sleeping. About rubbing his shoulder with your soft palm and stumbling back to this obnoxiously comfortable bed with his heat at your back– no. About rolling over in this obscenely large bed through morning chill and sunlight to find his magic-worn hands already pulling you against him. Fumbling to tuck every part of you inside his arms half-alseep– slipping under your–

About finally throwing your weapon aside as dust settles, victorious, and rattling his skull with the bloodiest punch you can manage. Breaking your fingers on his golden jaw– about kneeling over his battered body, panting, as he uses the last of his strength to raise his arms, to– no– to trace his fingers over your cheeks– no– and through your hair where you loom above him. About letting him pull you down with the last of his strength to kiss you on the battlefield.

Something outside clatters and crashes and your eyes fly open as you sit up in the room you made in a dream. You rub your eyes, deja vu, and spot your golden prince right where you left him. Scowling, pretty, on a sofa across the room in the afternoon sun. Someone shouts outside and you lurch from an aggressively comfortable bed with the confidence of a person who has just woken up without a question for reality. You are a captain and there’s violence outside the place where your prince is sleeping. No thoughts to your ten-pound beddress or the continental mystery bedroom or the fire that blazes in its white marble fireplace.

“You oaf!” Someone hisses as you pitter-patter pitter-patter and clear the room barefoot to throw open one of two elven doors. That someone is Mina. She is pretty and pink and she stares at you with her mouth open in a hallway cold enough to outline her breath in small puffs of shock.

Takoba is a series of beautiful rooms tied to tall hallways, this one’s no different. Mina is bathed in the warmest sunlight October can offer even in a place like this and she’s hunched and pointing in the middle of scolding Sero who has also frozen to stare at you on his knees halfway through reaching for a log that’s gotten away from him.

“Do you need help?”

Mina reaches for you like the air is too thick to move. You almost call her Lady again before you remember.

“Y/n,” she breathes. Sero is forgotten on the floor because you’re suddenly here in this doorway while the last vestiges of sleep drip off of you, gooey, onto the marble. “Y/n, are you–” she slips your hands into hers when she manages a step forward.

Bakugou and the sea, right? A column of fire in your chest and a trip back home. Was touching him a dream? They’re no lords. I hate you. One lost Alderan earring and two hands holding you. Last time they were golden and trembling.

Mina’s fingers twitch with every word out of her mouth, “I’m so sorry.”

“Mina, don’t–” Sero tries to stop her.

“We’re so sorry, Y/n, so so sorry, please gods we’re–” 

“Mina.”

Her body goes rigid but her hands stay soft on yours when she snaps at him, “Like you weren’t in tears two days ago! Don’t pretend to be cool.”

You become aware of your clothes for the first time when you consider their earnest Alderan faces and your tangled hands. Completely unarmed in a quilted dress that drags on the ground. Seashells twinkle when you move.

“Course I’m sorry,” Sero shudders. He rises and your eyes finally adjust well enough to sunlight to catch Kaminari standing statue-still beside a window where it appears you burst onto the scene as he was making to close it, “she’s my captain.”

If you weren’t still processing his lack of lordship you’d order him to his knees for the treason of calling you captain. What purpose does he serve in the castle? A mage like Mina? You cock your head and stuffy nose, and shift to shake away the inconvenient thought that someone’s been calling you captain for weeks with no punishment. Kaminari breathes, “Katsuki told us.”

“We thought you knew– we never meant to–!” And again your attention is on Mina, desperately closer than she’s ever been. Closer than anyone’s dared to hold you gently, “We thought you were playing Y/n, we– I should have said something.”

And of all the things to remember from that night, delirium and immodesty, a humiliating rescue, thoughts that meant to stay inside forever, I hate you, the taste of someone else’s teasweet breath– the one bites the least. They’re not lords.

It’s cold out here, you should invite the lot of them inside to warm up. You should ask them where the fuck you are.

“It’s my mistake Ms. Mina,” you smile pretty like you’ve trained for, “Harmless. Don’t worry.”

Three huge eyes blink out of sync surely because someone thought it was funny to put you in a queen’s night dress and hide your shoes. It’s better they’re not lords to be seeing you in the state.

“We,” Sero starts confidently and trails off with the syllable. Mina’s thinking.

Kaminari speaks beside the window and the three of you turn to his light, “We watched you grow up in that beautiful castle,” he hums. He has spoken with you twice, three times now, and it’s never been particularly affective or affectionate but he’s right that home is beautiful. Aldera is lots of things. You falter in the doorway now that adrenaline has bled from you into Mina’s hands. “You were in my letters class.”

Eight years old and late for Letters in a thunderstorm that swept you to the prince and clobbered you both with peaches. The students gaped when you stepped inside, dripping rainwater and bruised, to take your seat at the head of the class with a weapon still strapped to your back. Kaminari looks as if on the verge of tears which all feels a bit melodramatic for one damp day fifteen-some years ago. “I was afraid of you. Y/n, I’m so sorry.”

“I –” Mina releases your hands so she can stand a bit taller, so you turn, “I believed what people told me, Y/n, I’m sorry. I listened in the kitchens and spellhalls when they told me you never eat or sing, I believed them every time I scurried past your post with an errand and back again where you hadn’t moved a breath for hours.” It’s kind that she’s not touching as she speaks but the cold of the hallway is pinching your stupid bare feet. You never cared enough to pay attention to her either, why should she apologize? You never noticed her out of the tens of children that studied with you, worked around you, served you, fell to you in training. 

“When you didn’t recognize us at the start of the trip I thought you were so cool. I thought, no, it was just so cool to be traveling with the only Alderan apprentice– Spear of the Queen– you– I watched you get stronger for years. Sero would come to the potion pantry while Kaminari and I organized and gush about any impossible whathaveyou Jeanist’s Second pulled off in the gallery that day. Any Alderan could recognize you from footsteps, you’re– I– I’m not doing a good job.”

“She’s sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” she confirms and hovers between your bodies like she’s warming her hands with your fire. “You’re a hero. I’m just a training mage the prince can’t get rid of and you’ve saved the skin off our skulls more times than there are calendars. Y/n,” you look between Mina who presses no closer and the boys behind her, “I’m a coward, I want to know everything about you.”

You are ridiculous, dressed up in a doorway at noon with no idea how you got there and a hunger that teeters on allconsuming. You are a soldier. You are Jeanist’s soldier, you are his prodigy you should have shoes– 

Something startles your Alderan company, shoulders jumping, and Sero drops to a knee when he registers the dark cloud gathering behind his commanding officer wilting in a nightgown by the sea.

“Wers, there he goes.”

“I am bound by blood and at your service, my captain! My behavior is unacceptable while you have been serving alone in Takoba.”

A soldier then. Mina turns from her friend on the floor to gauge your new reactions while Kaminari presses two footsteps closer. That night comes back in pieces. You reach for your ear and pinch one lobe in icy fingers while the Alderans look on. What part of the dream is this? First Bakugou, his warmth and anger now these three? What will this one melt into? More fevered confessions? Send them away.

You feel the bark in your throat and wait to see which one of them will scurry from you first. Have they heard your soldier’s voice before?

Go on. No one moves because you can’t actually make the sound. Sero doesn’t raise his head. They are mages and you outrank them. Be gone. “Just–” what finally comes out isn’t the voice of a soldier at all, “please.”

“I’ll help you to bed,” Mina tentatively leans forward as you lean exactly back.

“not necessary.”

“Y/n, you’ve been out for three days,” Kaminari closes in too, “We’ll throw some logs on your fire and get out of your hair, but first can we make sure you’re okay? Call the doctor and get you some food?”

You can only lean so far before you need to take a step, and then only so far after that before your back hits the door that has shut behind you. You haven’t been sick because you don’t get sick. You’ve been dreaming, too much, which is worse.

A series of hollow crashes startle the Alderans again half out of their coats but you haven’t been caught by surprise in seven years.

“Y/n,” Kirishima hardly whispers, barely breathes where he’s appeared a little ways down the hall, dropping stacks of lumber from his arms onto the marble. He didn’t grow up in the castle. He showed up a few years ago stuck to the hem of Bakugou’s cape like tree sap and he’s always made every effort to smile. A smile from a stranger doesn’t mean much.

“Y/n,” he whispers again and staggers forward like he’s tried to catch himself from tripping, “you’re–” at first he is relief and then you remember, in a moment of lucidity, that you’re upset with him. “You’re awake.”

His limp hair flounders red in your direction. What right does he have to look so disheveled? Dark circles and a creased forehead, for what? His palms and sleeves are flecked with splinters and filth that he tries to brush off as he steps over firewood– tree trunks really– that now litter the hallway.

Fury gives you the strength to step forward, “You–”

“You,” the distance is closed. Alderans have stopped pressing into you and watch their companion, rosy cheeks, dark stubble, smile lines thrown to the wayside and big, wet eyes, reach, “You scared me.” And on contact he dissolves into a sob.

Kirishima grabs your sleeve first without his usual care and wrenches you deep into his arms. Maybe you’re tired, you don’t strike him as he shakes.

“You, you have to tell someone, Y/n,” you can only hear the words through vibrations in his chest and now the whole hallway smells like sweet Alderan fire. You should be suffocated, furious, you shouldn’t close your eyes. “You can’t just collapse. No one needs to be that strong– it– you– ’m so sorry.” 

The champion’s fingers clutch at the back of your neck and shoulders but you’re too shocked to notice until his warmth, his fire and safety, pulls you away by the cheeks. Kirishima cradles your face in two hands that could crush and tries to speak through agony. Drowning teardrops plummet off his black lashes, “it must have been so lonely.”

And what Mina saw as exhaustion, Sero anger, folds the corners of your mouth like paper, lips trembling, and wets both eyes with a blink.

It is something inexplicable like being thirteen on your way home from Peruro. A day of joy, song dance and feats of strength. Fencing competitions. They don’t give toy swords to soldiers and so you slipped inside the quietest part of the celebrating castletown, victorious two years running, bloodied and something more than tired. Crunch. As you approached the basin in the stables for jockeys to rinse mud from their eyes, you lifted your boot just enough to watch the broken green body of a mantis fall apart between the ground and your tread. One thin arm, little just like yours, remained untouched by your footprint and detached entirely from the creature that was just two more arm’s-lengths too slow.

You were startled for the last time in your glance to the mirror. You usually rinsed muck or sweat off your cheeks in the stables and the horses were here, the smell and warmth were here, but today you were splashed in blood. And so much worse than that, tears ran clean streaks through the filth. When you fall to pieces in your beautiful dress beside the sea it is impossible to hide.

“Please can we help you?” Kirishima blubbers through a smile before you nod, and he pulls you back in tight.

It is so strange to be held and uninjured. A hand materializes at the top of your head and more bodies surround you in the dark of Kirishima’s chest. Splinters poke at your cheeks but you press through them. You hold tight to the fabric of his sleeves and wrap a warm finger around the cold fingers that find yours.

It’s condescending and so unnaturally welcomed. You can’t even cry right. The tears fall and your voice breaks uneven because you’ve forgotten how to breathe with a lump in your throat, how long has it been? Steady arms hold you upright as you try to remember. Anything for you, Majesty. Don’t need a babysitter. Who’re you lookin at? Cover yourself. Captain! Y/n! Yes sir. Yes sir. Yes sir.

“I’m.. ‘m so hungry,” you sob in muffled fragments and the champion rumbles with true tearful laughter,

“She’s hungry!”

Mina wraps herself around your back and grips the knit of Kirishima’s tunic to keep all three of you tight together. She’s crying too from the sound of it, and rambling as always through the tears, “Don’t just drop dead in the hallway for Kats to collect! Thought he was gonna torch the castle–” she shakes you all, Kirishima as the lighthouse, “my blood pressure’s never recovering from this week snakes on high I know we deserved it but we haven’t had a moment’s rest with that lunatic playing bedside officer,” she is still gentle when she touches you, when she rubs her cheeks to yours, when she leans herself into the champion’s hold to be that much closer, “I’m a much better nurse, Y/n, promise, I promise wouldn’t–”

“Talkin shit?” 

What if someone had found you that day in the stables, instead of clapping you on the back for the day’s bloody victories and ignoring your red rimmed eyes? Bakugou crosses his arms over his golden chest and leans against the doorway framed by fire whipping in the bedroom behind him. It’s subtle, but the heat’s made his ears pink. No one moves.

“A bit..”

Mina stuffs her hand over Kirishima’s wobbling lips before he says anything else to get you all sent to the gallows. You just watch and the prince watches back; over the champion’s soft forearms and part of a filthy cotton coat, and partially through Mina’s hair. Bakugou’s collarbones roll with his breath where they poke out from his soft tunic, same with his stomach. It fills slightly with each heartbeat like he’s still too sleepy to harden himself and his posture.

You’re warm in this October hallway and your heart has been picked open by fruithungry doves. Bleeding down the front of this nice white nightgown, pooling rich at your feet. It’s easier to look at him when you’re crying. You stare through a crack in the hug with stray tears tumbling from your eyes like springs.

I’m not letting you out of my sight.

“Go on then, down mutts.” The prince unfolds and steps forward to pry Mina’s arms apart, “Couldn’t trust you assholes to be quiet if I cut out your tongues.”

His Alderan company thaws slightly at the sarcasm and the hands tying you together unravel at every angle under his orders until you are the only one standing on the stain your bleeding heart made.

Prince Bakugou is not the same as he was when he carried you from the sea. He surveys your heavy beddress and bare feet with a frown but no fireworks and today he’s wearing no jewelry at all. Not a ruby, bone, nor sun in sight. He is still clearly out of place here, golden milk and glowing like coals; two red eyes that love to glare and his lips that called your name as you both choked on ocean foam.

“Hungry?”

You nod and the shake dislodges loose tears.

He grunts and tips his head towards the bedroom door, “Back inside. The rest of you,” and then turns to his company who has stiffly lined up along the wall to try and avoid the punishment their prince laid out very clearly in the event a series of Alderan shenanigans woke you up, “put your pea brains together and track down Uraraka– she’s late. And stop fucking crying.”

The prince would pull rank against a baby. He oozes control and ego and desperation for the self and it is infuriating how much he gets away with and how often he is right. His eyes are pomegranate seeds behind slits that shift constantly towards you in the cold hallway.

“Go on.”

You exchange a glance with your company behind you and each one of them is glowing with life. Mina has cleaned herself up with a smile and Kaminari leans against her, almost behind her, grinning nervously at his hellfire prince. Sero and Kirishima fight back tears and the lot of them hold their breath.

The mages delay their prince’s orders no longer. They file down the hallway. “Welcome back, Y/n!” Mina waves and rolls her eyes at Bakugou’s seething.

“Rest well,” Kirishima smiles and wipes his eyes with his filthy sleeve while collecting the logs he dropped. Kaminari manages a curtsy, which makes you laugh, and they all round the corner with unsubtle exhales.

For all his spitfire, cunning and rage, for all their worry and apology, your Alderan company never objects to leaving you alone with the prince. For all their apologies, for all his harsh words and actions. Is it their trust in you, or their trust in him? Alone and for a moment you stand just two arm’s lengths away from your prince while he looks pointedly down the hallway after their footsteps. His posture is returning. He rakes his hand like a claw through his hair to settle in itch and pauses for one more beat before turning to you. Prince Bakugou saved your life and you told him you hate him.

He cocks his head, “You look like shit.”

“Feel like shit, Highness.”

One fricative cough like laughter slips out of his chest and his eyes widen a bit, as if surprised by himself, before settling back to a scowl. He’s soft today, sleep deprived. You wipe the last of the salt from your eyes.

“Go back inside,” He instructs as he moves forward and corrals you back step by step.

“Where am I?”

Fury has been replaced by something wet inside of him, doused and smoking like a forest fire. He slips past you inside the white bedroom and marches to the camp he set up around his chaise to collect two books and a pen, which he tucks inside one cover before sticking both volumes under his arm. Prince Bakugou saved your life and slept beside you, and you told him you hate him.

You step toward him when he walks past again, this time out into the hallway, just too quickly for you to trap him with a stare. Your stomach cramps with hunger and your throat is dry from crying.

“Just go lay down.”

He does not get farther than one step over the threshold before you reach though, and clutch the hem of his tunic in a clammy hand.

Inside of you, fury has been replaced by something black and entirely unfocused. He twists to glare at what has caught him under the arm. He blinks when he sees it is you.

Prince Bakugou saved your life. He turns now when you dare to touch him, and when he looks at you the smoke inside him pours from his ears. The eye contact is not difficult like a spotlight or the sun, it’s more like a candle in the dark that stains the backs of your eyes for many few minutes. He looks like a dream in your delirium. What you must look like beneath him..

He squeezes his books tight under his bicep and fully squares himself to you, “I didn’t,” he starts. It’s a croak. It’s foreign to speak so softly as he speaks now, so softly you drop your hand from him and lean away. His ears are still red. “I didn’t tell them,” he frowns with thought, “about the sea.”

You stare at him like always and today like a void, and melt a little in front of the candle he is. What else is there to say? You nod and move away. His wax will burn you.

“Don’t–” he huffs. You weren’t surprised for seven years, not through contests or training, not under orders, not truly by the queen at the foot of your bed all those weeks ago, not camping with your new company and holding magic in your palms, not by blue fire. Bakugou clutches your wrist, your hand, when you turn away from him and the static shock makes each hair on your body rise. He squeezes your fingers through the goosebumps.

“Don’t ever–”

“Yes sir.”

“– not ever again.”

“Yes–”

“Y/n.”

You look forward unblinking while your prince reels you in like a fish, rolling your fingertips in his palm. You can’t even manage a frown when you face him, all that bubbles up is bitten lips.

You get one more chance to look at him, and when you do he doesn't bark or spit. Earnest red eyes watch under a frown.

“Just a prayer gone wrong, Highness. I promise.” You can’t feel the faint smile. You do not know what makes his eyes widen or scowl fall.

Someone clears their throat in the doorway behind him and the pair of you jump. Bakugou is quick to catch the books that fall from under his arm and you both rush to wipe your hands at your hips. Uraraka. She leans her weight against the door, “Sleeping beauties,” and smiles at you while your prince jerks away.

“You’re late,” he spits and pushes into the hallway.

“High Lords are waiting.”

“Spare me.”

Uraraka preens less than your Alderans but still ushers you to bed and rings a bell on the wall labeled ‘kitchen.” A log falls in the fireplace. Embers spit onto the marble hearth. The last glimpse of gold you catch is in your prince closing the bedroom door behind him, his hand like a claw again violently tousling his hair. You are a liar, you lie and tell lies, and you do not hate him at all.

Embarrassment is replaced with shame when you learn the princess has filled your new dressers with her old winter nightclothes. And when Uraraka tells you about her brother, the late prince, and his palatial bedroom locked away from the world with his mother’s sorrow.

You will find the princess tomorrow and press your head to the floor at her feet, you will kneel to the queen in thanks for her generosity, but tonight you will find your prince.

It won’t take long. Uraraka told you where his meeting was while she braided your hair and only half-heartedly instructed you to stay in bed when you asked for privacy. There is no lame guard stationed outside of this room, a room so high in the castle the fireplace can suck oxygen straight from the night sky above you. Warm like home. It’s easy to keep a fire that excited alive so you tent logs over the embers to feed it while you’re gone. Your white arming doublet blocks the cold– dragontooth brooch glowing– when you step into the hallway lit by torchlight, a gift and invitation from Master Aizawa.

The hallway is thawing slowly from it’s edges to its center and seems to be lined with every flammable item one could think of; candlesticks, torches, candelabrum, chandeliers– if a flame escaped from your fireplace the castle would burn from this hallway to it’s cornerstones like a match.

You smile watching the fire dance in place as you walk past them and into darker parts of the castle. Down staircases and through white hallways lined with their seed-sized carvings. Your temples ache with the change in temperature.

“Office of the King?” You ask a passing footman and they make a point to avoid eye contact before murmuring directions and shuffling away. Deeper you descend and even with rest and warm food in your belly your lungs start to work with great effort. “Office of the King?” You catch a housekeeper this time who is less timid but still keeps his head down like you are noble.

“Straight ahead,” he points and when he bows slightly to leave you no longer register his presence, because a fluffy golden head slips back inside a door in the hallway. You step down the last stair in front of you and into the corridor. Your boots would creak on wooden floors at home but along the marble you are silent.

There aren’t half enough torches down here to adequately light the way or warm the castle from the chill of its many windows. The door your prince tucked back inside of glows when you approach it. This is when you would steady your hand on your weapon, or shift your shoulder blades to feel the weight of your master’s halberd.

Office of the King. You trace the silver details with eyes and fingers because it is beautiful and you have finally found all the places your prince could possibly hide. With your relief you should have considered how to hide from him. The door flies open with too little forewarning for you to dodge and stops just short of knocking you across an already throbbing temple. Bakugou emerges in an air of tempest.

“Knew it,” he crackles like you are exactly who he was looking for and is wholly aggravated by it, “you’re fucking fired, get back in bed.”

He is wearing fine silks from Aldera and their golden fixtures and tassels stop your heart. His hair is soft tonight. It is pushed back with a jeweled comb so that pointed fringes fall barely over his eyes while medals and brooches pin silk in a bunch at the shoulder of his gambeson. He looks more like a general ready for war than a guest in a seashell castle.

The prince simmers, “We’re planning the ball not a coup, I don’t need a sentinel.” And squints when you don’t budge, eyes unfocused. He tuts his head in the direction you came, “Rest. Now.”

“Yes Majesty– Highness,” you snap and reach for a pair of passing maids who squeak when they can’t get past the Alderans fast enough to hide, “one of you, fetch me a chair.”

“Belay that,” he growls and they squeak again, “you’re a fucking handful.”

Bakugou pauses on you for three seconds and rolls his eyes before turning back inside to address someone, “Please continue without me,” with a voice you’ve never heard before.

When your prince walks you back to your bedroom he steers you from just slightly behind and at the exact angle you would use to escort a prisoner to the Hold. The only signs from him are in the thick of his black trousers beside your own legs or a sleeve ushering you up a staircase. When your breathing becomes obvious he slows pace. If you lean the wrong direction his head dips down close to glare and guide you with a trail of smoke. He’s only this quiet when he’s thinking.

What’s the time? Stars twinkle at the highest points of the castle lined with torches and tall windows.

“Ahead,” Bakugou murmurs and waves you forward with an open palm to the red doors around the bend. Your own corner of Takoba. You don’t remember the night that you were brought here. You don’t remember anything past, ‘I hate you.’

The prince clears his throat to answer your unvoiced question, “Shuzenji arranged it. Told the queen you needed a fireplace.” He walks clear through the logical spot to stop and leave you on your own for the evening, and marches right beside you to the doors. Add the doctor to your tour of thank yous and apologies.

“I told that shit apprentice not to leave you alone. You’re the gods' perfect little flight risk.”

It would be easier to stand close together if you still brimmed with unbridled fury. You drift beside him, too tired for any strong feelings one way or another. He does not hint at eruption. Your prince only grumbles and watches to make sure you step fully inside after pushing down the door’s silver handle.

The wave of hot air inside is a cushion at the end of what should have been a simple journey and instead knocked the four winds out of you. They were telling the truth, you must have been fighting something for days. It could be midnight, it could be dusk, your body cannot tell the time past its fatigue. There’s one more thing you have to do before you can give it what it wants.

“Kirishima’s coming to morning meetings tomorrow. I don’t need you both,” the prince speaks awkwardly loud like the thought came out too fast. He is telling you to rest.

“Yes, sir.”

“Wait for summons.”

He’s asking you to trust him.

“Yes sir.” You are too tired to lace the words with instigation and so Bakugou does not flinch like you like him to do when you call him sir. You turn away from the white warmth, fine cushions and curtains and fireplace, back to His Highness still stood stubbornly under your doorway. His headpiece glistens in the moonlight.

You will be his captain and you are not too good for a borrowed pair of greaves. You do not hate him. He can be the first stop on your tour.

Weary in your own little world and surrounded finally by fire, you steady your hands at your side and bend to take a knee. Forgive my…lots of things. “I’m–”

But Bakugou reacts again faster than you can fall. He jerks forward and catches you by both shoulders with his spark-leathered hands. The the last creature alive that can still startle you, not with his hold or speed, not with his magic, but his eyes. He stares through you in distress behind a pinched and stormy gaze. Spilled wine.

“Do not,” his voice rumbles through his touch. He pulls you up to standing and does not back away. Each hint his shoulders give promises that he will close any gap you try to make and so you do not move. He’s warm, his ears are red. Bakugou reaches between the gold clasps of his tunic and pulls out his fist for you to puzzle over in the few seconds it takes him, first to breathe, and then to open his hand.

One tiny sun, no bigger than an apple seed and polished to its core, twinkles like a spark on his palm.

He makes fine magic for you, he always has and you’ve never known it. He breathes again, “I. I’m..”

And you don’t mean to startle him, touch or stop him, but you do all three in rapid succession. Your hand jumps to his mouth because you don’t know how else to stop the birth of a star. You’re not ready for an apology.

His eyes mirror yours in their paralysis, his cloudy, yours panicked. His lips are damp. They part against your skin for a moment as he breathes once more deeply. As he closes his eyes– breathes you in. As you contend with the pulse of his tongue one last shock away from tasting the salt between your fingers. He is soft here. Here and when he wraps his own hand around your knuckles to disarm you. He does not let go when he lowers your hand, he does not let go after tucking the sun into your palm and closing your fist around it. Just for a moment.

Infinity is what exists in the void that replaced your fury and tonight it is full of fruit. Bruising peaches. Falling plums. Sneaking dinner under the Oak to watch his twinkling magic and to hide from crowds. Never questioning why students who told ghost stories about the child soldier never dared to bother you. Ignoring the peculiarity of Jeanist taking only one apprentice.

Inside, your expertly timed fire eats itself up in the silence and collapses to break the trance.

Immediately Bakugou dips away. He pulls back like you were the one holding him in place and leaves you briskly with his heart in your hands. He shakes his head and barks like a startled dog and does not look behind him, “Another time.”

The fire giggles and spits out embers. He hurries down the hallway because something in him died at sea to save you.

As you jump and skitter inside to the smell of smoldering rugs, your brooch and earring lay side by side where you toss them and leave them and try to sleep despite them, safe on the green velvet chaise.

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tagged angels ✧.* @nnubee @nonomesupposedto @kotarousproperty @strawberry-mentos69 @sveetnn @lunrai @km7474 @cathwritestragediesnotsins @idimmadontgiveashit @kooromin @k1tk4tkatsuki @litiri @kiwibao @sarcasticlittlebook @condy-wants-a-cookie @mysticalfridge @falling4fandoms @katanaski @romiinlove @cherripunch26 @acid-rain27 @bakugouswh0r3 @zukowantshishonourback @ultracrii @chandiewashere @screechingdreameater @mecuryxmoonstone @onlysarcasm @ilovemushroomss @when-you-are-just-done @levisbae2 @flyhighinthesky @1astr0id1 @thebluespacecow @mizzfizz @butterscotch-ripple-icecream @phoenix-draws77 @ltadoriyuujl @keli-pie @dreamingoftomorrow @optimisticprime3 @misscaller06 @the-omnipotent-phlowr @definitely-notalissa

[dzozef-art]

i love how you draw joseph's hair!

thank you so much heres a joseph just for you

[mysteriousdragon2]

Today’s my birthday so…happy birthday to me ✨

I plan to post more whenever I can, perhaps some art. But for now, today’s my day and I plan to celebrate it a little haha.

Also thank you to those who wished me a happy birthday and drew something for me. Means a lot to me.

Here’s to hoping for a bright future, and happiness in my life. ✨

[spark-circuit]

haha yeah i can do a quick Survivor run. just to go to the Depths. it'll be fun. wait why am i a mother of two now.

[nimomo-mo]

Vent

[multiversal-pudding]

Very good points here, I especially agree with the part about the plot twist of Evil Mildenhall feeling very much like an intentionally stupid plot twist (something something “Caine coming off like an insecure writer putting a nonsensical plot twist in thinking the value is in the suprise when it wildly contradicts any and all logic, like Kinger questioning how he recorded the last tape despite being in hell) but there’s one little thing I want to contradict-

See, the thing is, the part about Possessedmi taunting Kinger about his wife is- I don’t think Caine necessarily actively wrote out/pre-scripted incidental dialogue bits like that for every scenario- after all, if Caine was scripting all of these lines actively, why would Caine have written a line for Gummigoo reacting to entering the main area if it’s against the rules for him to do that- hell, why not just have him just not be interested in leaving at all?

What this suggests to me is that it’s likely that while the Adventures are probably somewhat pre-scripted, it’s likely that some aspects/the NPCs have some level of self-generated responses not actively written by Caine, which I’d imagine would be fairly logical as a process to include as it takes some of the strain off Caine and allows the adventures to be more flexible in how they play out- However, this also adds a very dangerous consequence in that if not watched carefully (which it seems Caine has some level of unawareness of what happens 24/7 if Pomni was able to fall off the map/wander into The Void in spite of his claims of being All-Seeing) they might be able to take actions that are more dangerous/significant than intended

Which means that not only do the NPCs have the capacity to feel strong emotions like grief and existentialism (or if not, at least produce a damn good facsimile of it-), the NPCs have the capacity to actively, intentionally try to harm the players, be that physical, mental, or emotional means

This means that even if Caine himself doesn’t wish to torment the players, he can create things that can, which is something I don’t think he’s realized the potential consequences of/might not be responsible enough to handle yet-

Can we just talk about how disturbing digital circus episode 3 is?

*spoilers btw*

Like, the whole narrative point of the adventure is to show that Caine is a really bad and insecure writer who thinks that the way to impress Zooble is with an adventure that's the opposite of what he normally does.

So instead of being childish, it's "cool" and "mature". Which he interprets as a heavily horror themed escape room with a split murder mystery plot that subverts all your expectations purely for the sake of subverting them.

The generic horror monster jump scares them, then they find a gun, and when they kill it its revealed that surprise! it's one of Gods angels and they're going to Hell.

It comes off as Caine being too insecure with the actually interesting and mature plot thread he had going there of Mildenhall becoming so paranoid he killed his wife, ironically becoming the monster he was trying to protect her from. But no, instead Mr. Mildenhall is made to be the bad guy and trick them in a really dumb twist ending.

Which is good! Thats exactly what Caine would do because he's stupid! It's such brilliant characterization and comedy, Goose works is a genius writer!

But like, why is Caine so good at making genuinely very disturbing and horrific visuals? Like, that reversed audio easter egg of Bubble saying he can't wait for all the children in the audience get nightmares is no joke, well it is but you know what I mean. This stuff was genuine nightmare fuel.

Honestly, it wasn't the visuals that scared me, like any good queer person I'm way too jaded on survival horror for that.

But, why does Caine, who is ostensibly a sapient AI designed to generate family friendly video games for very little children, (presumably because that's the only demographic that wouldn't mind the AIs very selective plot writing limitations), know about the cosmic horror of killing an angel that should not have been killed?

Why does he know what a horrificly poorly made taxidermy of not only a human face would look like, but the weird cartoon faces of the characters, and further that seeing your own poorly made taxidermy face would be scary?

Imaging what being possessed felt like for Pomni. Because that's not just a game for her, she actually lost control of her body there, helpless but to watch as a body she is already dissociated with is contorted and puppeted around while her friend desperately tries to beat her in hopes it would exorcise the ghosts out. Sure hope she didn't feel that! Considering she apparently can feel the pain of suffocating, despite not needing to breath.

Things are scarier the higher the stakes are, and that possession mechanic is definitely the most actual harm Caine would be able to subject to his players. What if both Kinger and Pomni got possessed at the same time? What if instead of Kinger she only had Jax??? How long might she have been locked out from her own body for? She could have easily abstracted in that time.

Not to mention that, possessed Pomni, Possessedmni if you will, TAUNTED KINGER ABOUT HIS ABSTRACTED WIFE! CAINE ACTUALLY WROTE THAT DIALOGUE ON THE OFF CHANCE THAT KINGER WOULD GO DOWN THE SCARY ROUTE! DID THIS RANDOM POSSESSION GHOST ENEMY HAVE UNUSED SADISTICALLY PERSONAL TAUNTS FOR EVERYONE ELSE, TOO??? WOULD IT HAVE TEASED GANGLE FOR BEING A GAY WEEB??? OR POMNI? HOW HOMOPHOBIC COULD IT HABE GOTTEN?? ?

And why? Just because Caine has a vague notion that there's a trope of possessed people being really sadistic and personal like that in movies? Not realizing that is not an acceptable scare to have in a haunted house??? Much less one you made for mentally ill people who would suffer a fate worse than death if they have a mental break down? That's like trying to claim 'its just a prank bro' after shooting someone's dog.

Like, Caine is designed to censor curse words, but the moment he thinks the normal hokey Halloween spooks won't be enough he immediately goes off the deepend into aggressively effective horror imagery that is definitely giving this show's substantial underage audience nightmares??

His AI's training data set is definitely pretty diverse, that's all I'm saying. Caine is programmed to act all naive and innocent, but be definitely knows what's up. He knows everything, like ChatGPT. And like ChatGPT, he might have a filter, but it's clearly possible to bypass it. Also like ChatGPT, he's too stupid to actually understand what he is making and the effects it might have.

That is what made this episode great.

[vividxpages]

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ "in the dead of night"･ﾟ✧*: ･ﾟ✧*

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

words: 7000

summary: when Jace is attending a late council meeting, two hired assassins take their chance to sneak into your chambers and hold you captive. Taken to the dragon caves below and meant to be slain by your own betrothed’s dragon, you have to trust the bond between Vermax and you is strong enough to escape your captor’s murderous plans.

warnings: soft!reader, fluffy start but HEAVY angst (reader being held captive by two assassins similar to Blood and Cheese), physical violence (slapping, hair pulling), verbal abuse, threats of rape and violence, Vermax being Vermax and also protective of reader, hurt/comfort, shock and crying, Jacaerys being a caring betrothed, Rhaenyra being the best mother in law, aftermath of trauma, healing, hopeful ending

a/n: please mind the warnings for this story, it’s my angstiest so far! Big thanks to @princessvelaryon and @princesschimchim1325 for being awesome and inspiring me to write this!

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You smiled to yourself as you held two small wooden figures in your hands, a princess and a prince, their hands linked together and small attires made of cotton and wool. When you were younger, you remembered playing with them for hours, creating little scenarios of the prince who might sweep you off your feet someday.

Now, many years later, you had found the love of your life in Prince Jacaerys.

Ever since your own parents had died too young, Jace’s family had welcomed you as if you were one of them by blood, making you a home at Dragonstone and accepting you with open arms as theirs. Perhaps, a huge part of it was because Rhaenyra’s oldest son had been in love with you ever since he had first laid eyes on you, but there was more to it. His mother adored you and you got alone with his siblings and cousins and brought a joy into their house that was much needed in those dark times of war.

This afternoon, you were sitting on the soft fur carpet in one of the big living rooms of the castle, Rhaenyra’s twins peacefully playing with their wooden toys all around you. Earlier, Baela and Rhaena had joined you for a chat and the newest gossip, but you didn’t mind being alone with the kids as well, your own inner child always coming down around their soft souls.

You let out a playful gasp as little Viserys assembled a row of knights on their horses along the imaginary street you had built together. “Are your noble knights going to a tournament, Vis?”

The boy nodded timidly at you, letting one of the horses gallop forward and making you laugh.

Your betrothed Jacaerys leaned against the doorframe and smiled softly as he watched you. Little Aegon had snuggled close to you and you helped Viserys move the toy carriage around the carpet.

You looked up as he pushed himself off the frame, walking towards you with pure adoration in his eyes. “Oh hello. I didn’t hear you enter.” You said, letting your hand be lifted by him so he could press a soft kiss against your knuckles.

Moving to stand and placing Aegon on the ground, he laid a hand on your shoulder, shaking his head. “I didn’t want to interrupt your play. What adventures is my princess going on today? Have my brothers been behaving?”

“They are the sweetest.” You told him in all honesty, your heart melting at the two little blond boys in front of you. Whenever you spent time with Jace’s smaller siblings, you could not help but notice how your heart expanded and spoke to a deep part in you that wished for children of your own someday. “We were playing a carriage ride to a tournament, I believe, but then a dragon escaped and now we have to look for him.”

Jace squatted down for a moment and handed Aegon a rattle shaped like the bell of a sept, which he immediately took with a toothless grin and tried out. You watched your betrothed with a soft heart and thought what a wonderful father he’d make…

“I dream of the day this will be our life someday.” He confessed to you, the corner of his plump lips lifting sadly. “When there is peace in the realm and we have time to take care of our future children together.”

“I wish for nothing else.” You replied softly, your heart blooming with love for him.

For a moment, Jacaerys looked as if he wanted to sit down and join you and his little brothers, but as you knew your hard-working betrothed all too well, he sighed and stood up again, careful not to step on the big skirts draped around you like a blooming flower.

“There will be a late council meeting this evening.” Jacaerys announced to you, his displeased expression betraying him. “Everyone of the council and the dragon keepers will sit together to discuss. I wouldn’t ask you to join us, it will be very boring and entirely unnecessary.”

You chuckled, knowing all too well how different Jace would do many things if his say in the matters of his mother would be of more weight. But at the same time, you were glad, Rhaenyra kept him sheltered and protected with you for now, at Dragonstone where it was the safest place for the future king and his queen.

“Will you come to bed later?” You asked shyly, although it was not uncommon for the prince and you to share a bed before your marriage had even been consummated.

A small and narrow passage connected your room to Jacaerys’ and you had often made use of it, whether you wanted someone to talk to before heading to bed or were in need of his warm embrace before you eventually drifted off into an innocent sleep together. When he was gone or bound to duties, you usually made yourself comfortable in his bed, but perhaps you’d return to your own tonight if the meeting was going to take a while before he’d be released.

Jacaerys smiled softly at you and nodded before he raised your hand towards his lips. “I will. Don’t stay up too late, I’ll be with you as soon as I can, I promise.”

You hummed pleased and let him kiss your knuckles. “I hope it won’t be too long. And don’t take their words to heart too much, Jace. You’re the prince and they’re lucky to have you.”

“It is me who is lucky to have you, my beloved.” He said and watched in delight as you blushed at his appreciation. “My safe haven, my light.”

Jacaerys leaned down, softly cupping your cheek before he gently kissed your lips, your back arching a little to reach him better. Your lips brushed tenderly against one another and you sighed in bliss at his open affections for you.

You smiled at him when you separated, squeezing his hand in yours. “I love you. I’ll see you later.”

“I love you.I’ll do my best to hurry.” He promised, hugging his little toddler brothers as well and softly stroking their hair before he departed. You sighed to yourself, eager to have the hours pass and let the two of you be reunited again as little Aegon presented you a wood dragon, silently asking you to rejoin their play..

“Alright, where were we, my princes?”

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Being alone in your private chambers had become a rarity since you had been promised to Jacaerys.

You listened to the quietness of the room, the fire cackling in the pit as you sat on your bed and combed out your hair. You had taken a bath after bringing the princes to their nurseries and changed into something comfortable for the night.

The small evidence of Jace’s frequent visits to your room were visible all over the place. A cloak of his was thrown over one of your chairs by the fire and one of his books laid open by your desk. Even his smell still faintly clung to your pillows, a little gift from the last time he had fallen asleep here, not bothering to retreat back to his own chamber under your soft and lingering touches to his hair.

You could not even remember the last time the connecting door between your rooms had been closed.

You let out a small sigh as you sunk into bed, watching the dark outside of your window for a while. The council meeting must’ve been going on for a while now and you tried to read a few pages to keep you awake, not wanting to miss the moment Jace would come to you.

The time went by and your eyelids kept dropping.

But after a while, the door to your chamber opened and a wide smile split your face as you sat up in your bed, ready to welcome Jace back. Your hair fell over your shoulders, the blanket slipping down your body a little, but just a second later, everything in you froze to a stop.

Two men entered your room, their clothes dirty and faces dark as they took you in. These weren’t your guards and as one of them unsheathed a blade from his belt, you opened your mouth to scream.

They were on you in a heartbeat.

One of them drew the blankets off the bed while the other grabbed your hair, dragging you from the mattress and onto the floor, every sound in your throat seizing up and choked off by their sudden display of violence.

You were not a fighter, never had been. You stood no chance as they manhandled you in their middle, the taller one quickly looking over his shoulder as you struggled to no use against their tight grip.

“Look at that.” You heard close to your ear, the deep raspy voice sending shivers down your spine. “The bastard prince’s little bird, right between us. What would your man say now if he could see you like this, huh?”

You whimpered when your head was tugged back, the other gripping your wrists and making quick work of a tight rope around them, scratching over your soft skin and successfully binding you.

“Who are you?” You demanded to know, your voice barely louder than a whisper. You were shaking from head to toe, your body and mind gone into overdrive when they had first laid hands on you.

They shared a grin with each other. “Does it matter? All you have to know is we’re not your fucking maids. And that you will die tonight, princess. Now be a good girl and shut the fuck up.”

You tried to press your heels into the floor, to keep them from stirring you towards the door, but after a moment the tall one simply picked you up and carried you towards the door. Your nails scratched over the man’s back, but it was like he didn’t even feel it, his grip around your legs too tight for you to struggle and free yourself.

“Behave.”

You were set on your feet again, crowded by them against the door. You swallowed hard against the lump in your throat, your eyes flickering between the two of them. “Whoever paid you, their reward is not nearly enough for the misery my family will bring down on you when they find you. I am a princess of Dragonstone and you have no right to-“

They pushed you out of the door, not bothering to listen.

A horrified gasp escaped your lips as you stepped outside your chamber and nearly stumbled over the dead bodies of your two guards, bleeding out and cold on the floor. The sound echoed through the hall and before you knew what was happening, your head was pulled back by your hair and a hard hand slapped you across the face.

Pain exploded in your mind, blinding you for a moment before the sting ebbed away and was replaced with a dull throb in your cheek.

You held the palm of your trembling hand to your throbbing cheek, breathing hard as you recovered from the blow. “You will die for this.” You said oddly calm and collected. It had to be the shock, you could not think clearly, but you knew one thing for sure: “The prince will cut your hands off for laying hand on me.”

The tall one grinned as if it was an empty threat. “We will be long gone once your prince finds you, stupid cunt. And in what state that will be, I still have to decide.” His disgusting hungry gaze crept over your body, barely hidden underneath your thin sleeping gown. You wanted to throw up.

“You will lead us to the place where the dragons are.” The shorter one said. “We know the keepers are all at the meeting and you know ways where no guards keep patrol. And if you dare to scream or run to wake anyone, I’ll cut out your tongue and heart and throw it in front of the bastard prince’s feet.”

You swallowed down bitter tears, your head screaming at you to do something, anything. But your hands were painfully tied and you did not find your voice as you slowly began to walk with them through the castle.

In the past, you have had nightmares like this, terrible visions of you being powerless as hands held you down in the dark, doing horrible things to you. You sometimes had woken up screaming, but Jacaerys had been there for you every time, holding you until the worst of it was over and you slowly were able to calm down in his safe and warm embrace. Now, there was no one, all people living and working at Dragonstone either asleep or summoned by Rhaenyra and Jacaerys for the council meeting. By the time someone had discovered the corpses of your guards in front of your chambers, you’d likely be dead or taken to who knew where.

You walked through your home, shivering against the cool air with only the thin nightdress you wore on you, the dangerous presence of your captors behind your back. You knew Jacaerys would blame himself for leaving you alone and suddenly, a sorrow so consuming filled your chest, you choked on a quiet whimper. You had not even said goodbye…

“Shut the fuck up.” They hissed at you and one of them slung his arm around your waist, your fingers digging into his flesh in protest as cool metal suddenly rested against your ribcage. A dagger. “Be fucking quiet and keep walking.”

Soon, the air began to smell of salt and sea and you heard the distant crashing of the waves against the island. The entrance to the dragon caves came into sight and you turned around to face them.

“Now tell us, girl, where is your precious dragon?”

Your heart sank into the pit of your stomach, but before you could open your mouth for a reply, the other one of them shook his head. “No. Don’t be stupid. The beast will kill us right away if it sees their rider in our clutches. But…the bastard’s dragon. It’s a foul ill-tempered beast, isn’t it? Where is it?”

Vermax.

A protective wave washed through you and for a moment, you regained the little confidence you had before the man had laid his hand on you. “What do you want with the dragon? You are in no state to have a chance at killing him.”

They shared a look, both grinning viciously. One of them stepped up to you and touched your chin with his dirty hand, right where a fresh bruise from his violence bloomed. You tried to flinch away, but he held you close.

“We don’t mean to kill it, flower.” He told you, bloodthirst flickering over his features and making you sick. His knuckles brushed over the cut on your lip and you wanted to gag from disgust. “We’re going to watch as it kills you.”

Your mind was swimming as you led them through the darkness, watching their big shadows looming over your small own. The taller one still held his dagger against your waist and you knew he’d make use of it if he noticed you playing any games. There were wild beasts slumbering in the depths of these caves, but would they be faster at attacking your captors than the knife against your skin?

The hope in your chest thinned the further away you walked with them from where you knew your own dragon slept, but one last shimmer of it remained in you. You knew Vermax and he knew you just as Jacaerys did. You had to hold on to that.

“It’s here.” You announced quietly, your whisper echoing across the cave near the ocean. It was quiet here and you had to squint your eyes to make out the big nest at the end of the cave where a green-scaled dragon slept fitfully.

“Call it.” The smaller one muttered, his eyes fixed on the beast. You winced as the tip of the dagger pressed into your skin, a warning. “We will stand behind you and when it has come out, you will command it to kill you, you hear me? No tricks or I’ll gladly be the one to end your suffering, right after my friend here has had his fun with you, princess.”

You took a deep breath as they retreated into a safe distance.

„Naejot Māzīs, Vermax.“ You commanded shakingly and the sound of your familiar voice, the big pile of green and red in the corner of the cage moved, uncurling himself from his light slumber.

Jacaerys’ dragon blinked at you sleepily, a shudder going through his beautiful scales as he tilted his head to the side questioningly. When he spotted the two men in your company, he tensed, stepping forward and showing himself in his full height.

“Lykirī…“ You lifted your hands, trying to catch Vermax’ eyes again so he’d look at you instead of them.

With a low growl in his throat, he settled, stepping closer to you until his snout almost touched your outstretched hand.

“Say it, girl!” You heard the commanding voice behind you, in a safe distance of the beast that slowly blinked at you, considering. “We’re not going to wait much longer!”

You took a deep breath and looked Vermax in the snake-like eyes.

He met you with a calm stare, tilting his head to the side again, a deep rumble in his chest.

You had to trust in him now. You had to trust in the love Jacaerys and you were sharing and the bond between you and the dragons.

Out of the sudden, a heavy thrown stone hit you in the back and you gasped in pain, stumbling forward and almost slipping in a dirty puddle.

“DO IT!”

Trust in Vermax, just as you trust in your Jace.

“Dracarys.” You whispered finally and closed your eyes.

Vermax surged forward with a furious roar, one sharp claw in the ground, his wing shielding you from the scenery. Nearly pushing you out of the way, he advanced on the men who had threatened you with a snarl and warmth filled the large cave, fire burning low in his green-scaled stomach.

A horrible realization flickered over their faces as the green beast drew closer, their backs hitting the wall behind them as they looked at you one last time. “You fucking cunt-“

Vermax wiped out their miserable existence with one single breath of fire. Heat tore through the cave and you stumbled backwards as the dragon fire burned them and the scent of roasted human flesh reached your nose.

You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face in your hands as you listened to their screams. Their agony bounced off the stone walls and heat crept down your spine, but Vermax kept you close, the leathery feel of his wing a small comfort against your skin.

Suddenly, silence rang in your ears.

You dared to peek up over the protective curl of Vermax’ wings.

Where your captors had stood, only ashes and bones remained.

Vermax let out a self-satisfied growl, clearly pleased with what he had unleashed on the terrors. He bent down, blinking at you with his sharp eyes as if to make sure you were alright. Tears, both from the shock and gratitude, filled your eyes and you leaned your forehead against his snout, trying to take deep breaths to steady yourself.

You shrunk back as you heard footsteps in the caves, hurried steps running over gravel and through the water puddles, a flame throwing a long shadow over the walls. You felt Vermax tense, his wing drawing itself tighter around you. Any other threat advancing, he’d burn to the ground.

In the next moment, Jacaerys stormed into the chamber, his sword drawn as his other hand held a lit torch. His chest was heaving, sweat gathering at his hairline as he quickly took in the state of the room. He looked like he had run the length of the castle and you knew it likely had been the case.

Vermax snarled without threat, greeting his rider and lifting his wing to present you to your love.

Your eyes met and you let out a shuddering breath.

The sight of you was a thousand daggers to his heart.

Your face was smeared with soot and the blood from your split lip coated your chin, your hair unruly and disheveled from the way they had grabbed and dragged you along. Your silk dress was dirty and you shivered against the cold of the cave as you slung your bruised arms around yourself.

Behind you, Vermax hovered like a protective shadow and waited, willing to serve with Jacaerys now here with you.

As he took a step towards you, his boot made contact with the skulls of the assassins. Two of them, he realized and the rage surging through his veins was all-consuming. He looked down at their bones and wished to go back in time to kill them himself, over and over again until not even these mortal remains stayed behind.

But his own bloodlust vanished as he raced towards you, your own legs unsteady and finally giving out under you just as he reached you.

He fell to the ground with you in his arms, holding you tightly as you clawed your hand in his clothes, his heart breaking for you right underneath your tight grip. It was like any last strength in you had left, leaving you a broken and sobbing mess in his embrace.

“You’re safe, you’re safe…” Jace murmured into your ear, softly swaying you back and forth as you wept, the adrenaline and shock from the situation finally crashing down on you with full force. “Nothing is going to happen to you, I’m here…”

The Queen and the dragon keepers found the prince and his princess just like this.

Jacaerys was kneeling on the ground, the princess dissolved in tears in his arms and the ill-tempered beast that had saved his love curled around them, chortling comfortingly as the prince stroked her hair and whispered sweet nothings in her ear.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

You had been escorted back to the castle, but you couldn’t say you remembered much from the journey. Your mind had gone into an odd state of survival, the girl from before the attack having retreated into a far corner of your mind.

The guards, now dead because of you, had been carried away in front of your door and you had stopped in the middle of the hallway, not able to go another step as you stared at the spot where maids were now scrubbing the blood from the floor.

“Come on, my dear.” Rhaenyra had gently told you and you tore your eyes away from the scene as your Queen and Jacaerys led you into his chambers instead. The warmth and unique scent of Jace’s quarters – the smell of old parchment and books, mingled with the wax of the candles and the smell of his sheets – enveloped you and you drew the cloak Jace had draped over your shivering form tightly around you.

Now, a little later, you were seated at Jace’s work table and blankly stared at your scraped hands in your lap.

Jacaerys had instantly expressed his dislike for an interrogation at this hour of the night, but you had shaken your head, willing to recount the situation to Rhaenyra as if words could wash away the poison they had brought onto you. Your skin felt coated with it and you feared the stain might never go away again.

Yet, you had told her and Jace what happened, slowly and quietly, and when you were done, Rhaenyra was holding your hand and Jacaerys looked as if he wanted to break something.

“My brave girl.” Rhaenyra murmured and softly cupped your cheek as she looked at the bruises on your face and neck. “You’ve fought enough for tonight, darling. I’ll call the maids and healers and-“

“No.” You cut her off, shivering at the prospect of unfamiliar hands on you, seeing the evidence of what had happened on your naked skin. You swallowed hard, your eyes filling with unshed tears again. “No one else. It’s- it’s alright, I can do it myself, I really can-“

Rhaenyra smiled sadly at you. “You are hurt, my dear.”

“I’m not broken.” You insisted, although you felt like it. You were shattered pieces on the ground.

“And no one says so, dear.”

Jacaerys, sensing you were on the verge of breaking down, knelt down next to your chair and caught your gaze with his. “I can help, if you want.” He offered quietly.

You looked back at him, conflicted. If Jace stayed, there’d come the point where he’d see the damage you had taken and you did not know what troubled you more; him seeing you like this or seeing him as his heart shattered for you.

“Jace.” Rhaenyra looked at him. “Perhaps a woman’s presence at this time is better suited for her. I’ll fetch you later, I promise, but she needs a moment for herself now, alright?”

He was tense, your beloved prince, but after a moment he nodded with a set jaw before he stood and looked at you one more time. “I’ll wait outside.”

You didn’t want to meet his sad expression, so you kept your gaze down as mother and son went to the door, talking in quick and hushed voices before Jace stepped outside and Rhaenyra returned to you.

She leaned down and brushed a little bit of soot from your cheeks, careful not to touch your split lip. “Vermax surely knows how to rain down fire on our enemies, hm?”

A weak smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “He saved me. He knew exactly what was going on the moment I entered and he was intelligent enough to play along until the right moment had come.”

Rhaenyra hummed, offering you a hand to stand up. “And still, they only call my son’s dragon ill-tempered. How does a bath sound? I’m sure you’d like to step into more comfortable clothes, wouldn’t you?”

You nodded, longing for a simple cotton shirt, preferably one of Jace’s that smelled like home and warmth and safety.

Your future mother-in-law went to the big bath next to Jace’s bedroom with you, a steaming bath already having been drawn for you.

When you saw her drawing a stool close to the tub, your eyes widened and you were quick to interject: “I-I can do it myself, Your Grace, there is no need for you to-“

“Please let me help you just as I would help any other child of mine.” She interrupted you kindly and soon after, you gratefully sunk into the bath, your sore muscles relaxing in its warmth.

Rhaenyra helped you tilt your head back and you closed your eyes as warm water flowed over your hair and down your neck, tears of your own silently running down your damp cheeks. Your throat bobbed painfully as you let her work, the Queen’s gentle hands a mother’s comfort as they helped to get rid of the dirt from the caves and a root clinging to your skin.

“I have sent Jace to fetch an ointment for your bruises and cuts.” She told you quietly and you nodded silently, cupping some of your water to rinse off your face, careful not to touch your throbbing lip. “I want you to tell me if I should send him away for the night. You can be honest with me, dear.”

You sniffled, gladly accepting the towel she lent you after helping you out of the bathtub. After a moment, you rasped: “It is not him I am scared of. It’s just…I know it pains him to see me hurt.”

“He hurts because he hasn’t been there for you, my dear.” Rhaenyra explained softly and you sighed to yourself as you slipped into a silken robe, the fabric easy on the big bruise on your back and arms. Underneath, you already wore one of Jace’s long shirts, the fabric more of a dress on you. “If it is one thing I have learned, as someone who loves and is lucky enough to be loved, it’s that healing means accepting the help of others. No one will fault you if you want to be for yourself tonight, but I know Jace will do anything he can to help you recover from this, no matter what that might look like.”

You did not want to be alone.

You feared it, laying down in bed once again when the door could open at any moment and reveal the terrors, although Jacaerys had doubled the amount of guards outside his door, simply so you’d feel safe.

You wanted to feel sheltered and able to move past this with the one you loved more than anything else, the one who had first thought about when your life had been in grave danger.

You needed Jacaerys.

“Jace may come in again.” You said quietly, suppressing the urge to groan with every step. You had not seen it yet, but the pain the stone thrown to your back caused felt like a flare and you were sure the spot was already turning a deep shade of purple.

Rhaenyra led you towards Jace’s bed, seemingly pleased with your decision. “I’ll make my leave then. Sleep in tomorrow, the both of you. You need all the rest you can get.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” You squeezed her hand in yours, bowing your head in gratitude. “And thank you for helping me.”

She smiled at you one last time, although there was a strain to it, her worry over a sneak attack like this consuming her mind. Tomorrow they’d speak about this in council, but tonight she’d let her son do the rest, his wide eyes meeting hers when she opened the door and let him in.

You turned around to look at him, your damp hair falling over your shoulder and his clothes, a princess despite the cuts and bruises on your skin. Jacaerys slowly walked to you and your heart stung when you noticed his blood-shot eyes and how pale he still was. He was tense all over, yet he softened as he came to a stop in front of you.

“Where does it hurt?” He asked quietly, looking for your honesty and not a false promise towards him.

You let out a shaky breath and leaned into him.

For a moment, you simply stood in front of each other, forehead against forehead and breathing each other in. Hot tears welled up in your shut eyes, his closeness rescuing and suffocating you at once. Jace’s nose touched yours and his soft curls tickled your cheeks and for a second, you thought that everything might be alright again when the morning came.

“My back. My cheek and wrists…” You whispered, your breath tickling his lips. “I know I’ve bathed and changed and I’m safe in your rooms, but…it feels like they’ve put me apart and I’ve been assembled back together wrongly.”

He shook his head, swallowing against his own lump in his throat. “You could never be wrong, my love.”

Your bottom lip wobbled dangerously, only doubling the pain in the cut grazing it. “I’ve been so scared, Jace. When they entered my room- Anything could’ve happened, they could’ve done anything to me-“

You gasped both in relief and sorrow as his arms pulled you against him, the hug both grounding and warm, something you thought you’d lost forever mere hours ago. You were too exhausted to cry once more, but the horror over what else could’ve been done to you shook you to your very core.

“I’m never going to let something like this happen again.” Jace promised you darkly as he tightened his arms around you, soothingly brushing his hand through your hair as you rested the unwounded side of your face against his heart. “You will never have to be afraid again, I promise. I should’ve been there, I should’ve stopped them-“

“You didn’t know they were here.” You reminded him, but you could feel the fury radiating off his body, an all-consuming rage deeply rooted in him. “No one did. No one is to blame except for the ones who sent them, Jace.”

“And they will pay.” You could practically feel the daggers he was glaring at the wall behind you. But just after a moment, you felt his anger deflate as he softly kissed the top of your head and gently lifted your chin so he could look at you. “You’ve been fighting all alone tonight, but I am here now and I want to be of use, beloved. Will you let me help?”

“I don’t want to upset you.” You almost bit your lip before you remembered the pain.

His gaze softened endlessly and he tucked a damp strand of your hair behind your ear. There were lots of tangled emotions inside of him still, but he saw you, this sweet delicate girl he had fallen for ever since the beginning and knew he had to take care of you now. “You could never upset me, my beautiful strong princess.”

The words were mending on your shaken soul and you closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before you let him to his work.

“The maester said the salve might be a little cool on the skin.” Jace murmured and you nodded in understanding. “And he gave me ice, scratched from the old side of the island’s cliffs, for your cheek.”

You took the dripping bundle from his hand, sighing as the cold cloth touched your cheek, the swelling subtle so far yet inevitable to strengthen throughout the night. But every bruise and cut on your body was better than not living to see the sun rise in the morning. “I could apply the salve on my own?”

Jace shook his head. “Let me do this for you.”

He walked with you to his bed, helping you sit down as he knelt before you, devotion shimmering in his eyes. You realized that he needed this just as much as you did, to prove himself he was able to take care of you now, even if he had not been there for you then.

He cupped your healthy cheek as you covered the other one with your ice. “Should we start with your back?”

Jace helped you lift the fabric, only so much so he could see where the stone had struck you, a dull bruise blossoming right next to your spine. It was nothing he had not yet seen so far, still you felt self-conscious under his attentive eyes.

You held very still as Jacaerys began to carefully apply the ointment to the bruise, his finger drawing soft and soothing circles over the blue spot. His other hand touched your waist, just barely underneath the fabric of his shirt on you and you closed your eyes as the cooling sensation drew a little pain from you and let it vanish.

“Good?”

“Feels good…” You murmured and tried to crawl into the feeling, the tiny relief washing away a little of the darkness from before. With a small kiss to your nape, he let the shirt fall and cover you again.

Next came your sore wrists. He lifted both of them, seeing the red marks where the tight rope had cut into your skin and swallowing hard. He wanted to unleash Vermax on the dusty bones of your captors again until their remains were annihilated from this earth. Jace softly kissed both of them before he dipped his fingers into the small jar again and repeated his careful motions.

You made a small sound in your throat and he stopped instantly.

“Too hard?”

You shook your head. “My lip…”

He sat down beside you, the mattress dipping underneath his weight and bringing you closer to him. The cut wasn’t pretty, but no cut was and you did not shy away from him as he took in the damage, one of his hands still rubbing circles into your wrist.

You held your breath as his coated thumb touched your bottom lip, his touch light as a feather as the cooling salve instantly mended the throbbing. Your hand reached up to hold his wrist, not ready yet to let him go when his touch felt infinitely good for your aching body. There was nothing sexual about the way you breathed against the pad of his thumb, relishing his care and simply letting it wash over you, and for a while you were simply content like this, Jacaerys remaining close to you as you breathed through the slowly ebbing pain.

“Do you want me to braid your hair for the night?” He asked quietly like he had so many times before.

Your wonderful beloved Jace. You nodded gratefully as he shuffled once more on the bed and sat behind you. Kissing the back of your head and brushing your hair over your shoulders for you, he got to work.

Your body was lulled into relaxation as his fingers combed through your hair, loosely braiding it so you wouldn’t have to wake up with tangles and knots in the morning. His warmth was a comfort against your back and if the vicious bruise hadn’t been there, you would’ve leaned back against him, ready to melt into his tenderness.

“Vermax saw right through them.” You spoke up after a while, your eyelids drooping from time to time from exhaustion as Jace finished up his braid for you. “He didn’t let them see at first, but there was a moment where I knew he was going to protect me, that he knew what was happening.”

“He loves you as if you were his own rider.” Jace mumbled, affection for you and his dragon in his voice. “I am glad he had been there for you when I wasn’t.”

“I want the finest sheep the shepherds can organize for tomorrow.” You looked over your shoulder with determination and Jacaerys frowned at you, a question in his eyes. You welcomed the small sting your lip caused you when its corner lifted up into a weak smile: “I want Vermax to be rewarded for defending his rider’s princess so honorably.”

“And I’d be honored to be the one to select it for you, my princess.” Jace’s face darkened, fury swirling in his brown orbs. “I still wish they would’ve suffered more. They deserved much more than a quick death of fire.”

His revengeful words were nothing against the soft touch with which he doted on you and when he was done and brushed his fingers once more over your hair, your body wanted to sink into his pillows and melt into them.

Jace laid down with you, carefully adjusting his position beside you so he wouldn’t accidently bump into your sore body. You exhaled deeply when your head touched his pillow, smelling so comfortingly of him. You could not bear to lie on your back, so you snuggled into Jace’s bed on your stomach, hugging his pillow and turning your head so you could look at your love.

He was resting on his side, his brown eyes searching for any discomfort you might have. Your eyes flickered over his shoulder, towards the door of his chambers.

“You are safe now, I promise.” Jace whispered and leaned forward, pressing a small kiss to your nose. “There are five guards outside and my sword leans against the bed. I’m here. Nothing bad will ever befall you again, my love, I swear it with my life.”

You gave him a tiny nod and tried to relax, although it was hard to keep the shadows lingering in the corners of the room at bay. You wiggled one of your hands out from under the pillow and found his, tugging him closer until his lean body warmed your side, one of his hands resting securely on your lower back.

“Tomorrow, I want to take a walk to the cliffs.” You whispered, longing for the fresh air and its cleansing effect.

Jacaerys smiled. “Then it will be arranged. Does my princess wish for any company?”

You nodded timidly, his playful undertone distracting you from the dull throb underneath the ointments. “And I want to have a picnic if the sun is out, with all my favorite things.”

“I’ll tell the kitchens then, first thing in the morning. They’ll be happy to please their future queen.”

“And when I’m healed, I want you to kiss me…” Your eyes drooped, the exhaustion from the night overpowering the little anxiety that remained in you.

“Your wish is my command...” Jacaerys mumbled back, his eyes on you as you slowly drifted off into a well-deserved sleep. He had not been entirely honest with you, there were many things he wanted to do.

He watched you sleep beside him, the most innocent sweet being he knew, covered with his warm clothes and bruises on your skin. Jace still held your hand and was not willing to let it go for the rest of the night.

At the soonest time, he’d convene a council meeting and strengthen the security around Dragonstone. He already had caught word of Daemon wreaking havoc on the guard unions patrolling around the castle for not being more attentive, for the princess was one of his favorite people in this family and Jace knew he’d have an ally for his cause.

He’d take his revenge for you.

But for now, he knew you needed him more than ever, and tomorrow he’d do his best to make you happy again. 

He could almost see it in the dark of the room, your eyes closed blissfully against the sunbeams, your hair dancing with the wind as you walked hand in hand as you had done so many times as children. You’d eat ripe peaches and cake and slowly, this incident would move past you until it was only what it was; a shadow in the corner, in the dead of night…

my taglist (open): @princesschimchim1325 @cecestea @jacesvelaryons @princessvelaryon @diannnnsss

[theunderthecover]

(hi its the anon from earlier, now clearly not an anon. im sending this before I fold into myself. <3)

Scar has been tempted to fold the towel for the past half hour, no matter how safe and lucrative this scheme is. 

Doing anything in front of a crowd for 5 hours nonstop is a tiring task by itself, but singing on top of that could make the most experienced performer want to keel over.

But, a group of powerful and wealthy adventurers entered the tavern 30 minutes ago, and Grian's eyes narrowed in their direction. It's a look the Aarakocra only has when a bigger fish (a bigger prize) unexpectedly appears on the job. It's a look that leads to some of their biggest catches. So, Scar will sing and entertain the party til they're blackout drunk and his throat dies so Grian can snatch whatever caught his eye. 

The energy in the tavern has long since died down, as most rowdy tavern goers are either off to bed or too tired to be loud anymore. The only thing that fills the room now is quiet chatter, the barkeep's everlasting service, Scar's continued performance. He concludes yet another song and basks in another round of faint applause. 

From the corner of his eye, he can see a faint bird-like footprint appear in a small puddle of cheap alcohol near the extremely drunk targets.

With Grian so close, Scar needs to have an iron grip on the room's attention again despite the itch in his throat and the room's energy being at an all-time low. There are too many drifting eyes that could see something being stolen. 

After staring at the puddle for a moment too long, he gets an idea. 

"You've been a delight tonight, kind folks! It'll be just one more song to wrap up the night." Scar declares to the whole tavern from his stage, "Though I'll be sure to leave you all filled with wonder and awe! As a treat, for being such an Amazin' audience tonight." He finishes the segway with an exaggerated wink, causing some patrons to giggle. 

He casts minor illusions with a flourish, making the sound of soft instruments echo around the room. As a viol begins to play, the quiet conversation amongst patrons lulls as every eye--curious, confused, excited--turns to the stage once more.

Scar's eyes close, and he relaxes as he takes in the music the magic creates. He thinks of the song with intent, pulls upon vivid memories to inspire emotion, and lets the feeling consume every movement. He takes one more breath, then, at the cue, begins to sing with a slightly rough voice.

"In a perfect world… one we’ve never known…” 

The tone is jarringly different from the previous songs of the night.

"We would never need to face the world alone…."

The instrument choice, low soothing energy, a soft romantic sway, and the bard's renewed life- all combined- make a near-perfect hook for everyone within the tavern. 

"They can have the world…" 

All Scar has to do is follow through with the catch and reel in the hook enough to let Grian catch the fish before anyone in the pond suspects a thing.

"We'll create our own."

He opens his eyes slightly, half-lidded to obscure where he looks but wide enough to see one of the wealthy adventurer's satchels be swiped off the table and quickly replaced by an identical copy. A bit of panic wells up inside him at the precarious move, but he swallows and trusts his partner knows what he's doing.

"I may not be brave, strong, or smart, but somewhere in my secret heart-" His voice slightly cracks at the rise, but he breathes through it and tries not to let it go completely off-pitch. Scar looks at the ceiling and tries to force his movements make it look intentional, stretching out the ache in his throat. 

"I know, love will find a way… anywhere I go…" Scar lowers his head in time to catch a now visible Grian acting like he just walked in the room, "I'm home if you are there beside me…"

He lets the music breathe, in a tune he knows by heart, as he watches his partner-in-crime casually head for the exit.  

Grian turns around and leans against the wall by the door, a stolen bag tucked under a wing. He signals to leave. They make eye contact.

The warm tavern lights again, and Aarakocra's red tones make Grian look like a painted sunrise. Scar, despite knowing he should be focused on finishing this scheme, doesn't look away. Doesn't stop to think about causing glorious chaos in their victorious exit.

Scar continues to sing, holding Grian's eyes within his own all the while. 

"Like dark, turning into day…"

Grian subtly pauses, confused but suddenly seeming as spellbound as the partner-in-crime in the metaphorical spotlight.

Still, their eyes hold.

 "… somehow we'll come through…"

Grian's incredulously mouthed words, which he fondly knows are along the lines of 'Scar, what are you doing?!'

Still, their eyes hold. 

"… now that I've found you..."

Scar's posture slightly sags with the exhaustion of this performance. He feels the cantrip near its minute end, but the violins swell into an off-script crescendo anyway.

Their eyes still hold.

"… love will find a way..."

The music cuts off abruptly as the spell ends.

He sees Grian suddenly look rather lost, but Scar is not sure why.

The whole tavern is bathed in silence.

He feels compelled to make the song at least sound finished. So…

"Now that I've found you..."

… he repeats himself, even with nothing else to support the song. 

(Scar doesn't admit that, at that moment, as he and his partner swim in each other's eyes, he didn't only repeat it for the performance.)

"… love will find a way."

The room roars into one of the loudest applause at night despite the smaller number of people.

And their eyes still hold.

bard scar singing a little love song at the crastle tavern and making direct eye contact with warlock grian

i think i just got murdered by my own thought what the fuck

[prettyboykatsuki]

cause we're, y'know | k. bakugou

✮ tags ; gender neutral reader, fluff, post relationship jitters, bakugou being down bad a little bit, friends to lovers. not 18+ but minors do Not follow me.

✮ wc ; 1k

✮ a/n ; a comm for @euthymiya who gave me free reign to do whatever which i used to write corny bkg fluff... thank u for commissioning me most beloved riv <3

✮ synopsis ; bringing his friend turned lover a lunchbox is normal, alright? plenty fucking normal.

Bakugou taps his fingers along the edge of the bench he's been sitting on since evening - beating to an unsteady rhythm.

He can Sero's voice in the back his hand as he squeezes the wrapped bento a little closer to his torso. The shitty, sing-song teasing lilt when you and Bakugou were less then lovers but more then friends.

And now you're lovers proper, as fucking corny as he finds it. But maybe he's not finding it corny enough because he's sitting in the lobby of your office building with a bento he made by hand. There's some chatter from strangers coming in and out of your office building - the occasional ding of elevators, the passing whistle of a janitor.

The awful, loud, no good thump of his heartbeat ricocheting against his rib cage as he goes back and forth on whether or not this shit was a good idea.

He's... fucking nervous. Which is total bullshit because he doesn't have anything to be nervous about. It's not like this is the first time you and Bakugou have ever met up to eat lunch. It was just that before, he was coming to meet you as a friend.

Some part of him is thinking, so what if he's your boyfriend? Who gives a shit, anyway?

Another part of him feels so mixed about the ordeal he sort of wants to puke.

His phone buzzes from the pocket of his pants and he grabs it - your phone and contact flashing across his screen

(sent 11:12am) coming down :]

Bakugou smiles to himself, at the stupid emoticon. He thinks about just liking your reply but before he gets the chance another text follows through.

(sent 11:12am) missed you <3

He blushes almost furiously. Partially over the text but mostly from his internal reaction. Stupid. This whole thing is so stupid. He types fast.

(sent 11:14am) hurry your ass up.

That's all he can manage to say without feeling like his chest is going to collapse in on itself. He waits another minute before he hears the elevator doors ding again - a crowd of people dispersing as the doors open. He looks for you among them.

He finds you after a minute, hand waving overhead of the sea of people. He huffs, amused at how rapidly you wave your hand, and thinks about texting you again but you're close enough that he doesn't bother.

You march towards him with a renewed vigor after you aren't lost to the sea of strangers. Bakugou snorts as you hurry your way over to him, almost seeming out of breath - like you ran to see him.

"Hey,"

"Hi!" You say, chipper as always. "You're here."

"No shit."

You laugh. He's heard it before. A hundred times, a thousand maybe. It still sounds weirdly different to him.

"Did you have anywhere in mind to eat?" You ask.

Horror dawns on him at the realization you still didn't realize what's in his hand. "I'm up for anything I think. Feeling adventurous."

Your eyes are sparkling when you ask. Bakugou freezes, blue screening momentarily before taking a breath.

He holds the boxed bento out to you sheepishly, a hand scratching the back of his neck. This is way more embarrassing then he thought it'd be.

"Fuck. Whatever. Look," He says, shaking the upset off of him with a frown. " He doesn't look up at you, doesn't even want to know what he might see. Something bright enough to fucking blind him, he's sure. "Don't say shit or I'm never making you one again."

You blink owlishly before letting your eyes flicker down again at what it's in front you. There's a beat of silence between you before Bakugou sees a grin slowly creep it's way up to your face in a way that makes his chest feel tight.

You take the wrapped bento from him, assessing the weight of it in your hand as you give it a good look. You hold it up to admire it and Bakugou feels the blush crawl further down his neck.

"Stop acting like I just handed you a diamond or some shit," Bakugou says lamely, even by his own standards. Your lips form into affectionate pout.

"You made me a bento." Your lower lip trembles all too sudden and Bakugou's eyes go wide. "I love you,"

?!

Bakugou looks at you, mouth agape. You're completely serious. Nevermind the inappropriate timing or the fact this is the first time you've expressed yourself with a word so serious. He's more concerned about the almost tears at your eyes. He pulls his sleeves over his hands to wipe them from your eyes.

"Dumbass, what are you crying about? You're still in the office, get it together."

"But I love you," You say, more whine then coherent word. Bakugou feels a headache coming on.

"Yeah I got that. Am I really such a shithead me bringing you lunch is worth sobbing over?"

"You made it for me."

"Cause I ain't no punk. Anyone can pay for you you but we're," He stops himself mid way, too embarrassed to get the rest out. "Anyways whatever. It's just lunch. I just... fuckin' realized I never made it for you. Dinner and shit is one thing but we're,"

"Dating," You finish before he can. He falls victim to more blushing.

"Yeah. Whatever. This much is pretty standard, at least." He wipes another tear off your face. It's funny. Anyone else pulled some shit like this and he'd rolls his eyes. "Stop cryin' already."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't gotta say sorry either."

"But,"

"No buts. Hurry and wipe your tears before your breaks over so you don't go all puffy eyed back in the office."

You laugh through a sniffle. "They'll think my boyfriend was being mean to me, huh?"

He snorts, voice full of playful sarcasm. "Yeah exactly. I've got a great reputation to uphold and all."

"Katsuki," You say gently. He gives you a look.

"Hm?"

You lean forward, craning up just slightly to press your lips to his. Your third kiss, now. Not that he's been counting.

"Thank you and," You pull back mischievously, brows furrowing. "Revenge."

He's in so deep. Fuck.

"You're such an idiot." He says, fighting off his own feelings.

"You love me,"

Maybe he's an idiot too.

"Yeah." He says, flicking your forehead and watching you beam. "Unfortunately."

[teaboot]

TOP 10 PERSONAL FAVE MOVIES TO WATCH WHEN YOU FEEL LIKE ASS

I don't like movies that stress me out because life is already stressful but I DO love catharsis comedy found family friendship fantasy and violence so here are my top 10 movies and series to have a good time watching

Numbered for convenience but not in any particular order

John Wick 1 and 2: An ordinary man grieving the loss of his wife gets dragged back into his past as a shadowy, invisible world of international killers for hire is slowly revealed to be living among us. A love note to set design, lighting, and choreography. My favourite part is fixating on the symbolism. DO NOT WATCH 3. 4 is okay. DO NOT WATCH 3. There is a dog death in 1 that will make you cry so skip that part if you have to. DO NOT WATCH 3.

The lord of the Rings, all 3, extended edition best watched if you're on the couch with the flu and expect to fall asleep OR if it's your day off and it's raining outside OR if you have like 5 people lounging around in pajamas

Six Underground: Essentially an hour and a half long car commercial music video with found family and a fresher take on acommon plot. Ryan Reynolds essentially writes and directs a Michael Bay movie where 6 independant criminals gather together to overthrow a violent foreign dictatorship. You show up for a dumb heist and walk out ready to build a guillotine. TW for violence, car crashes, chemical warfare, and genocide. A very cathartic ending. Does unfortunately do the whole "vague, impoverished middle-eastern country" thing but the citizens are actually show as human beings which is a nice change of pace and oh wow that's depressing isn't it

The Princess Diaries 1 and 2: A sort-of-a-loser teenage girl, played by a 2001 Annie Hathaway, learns that her late father was a king of a foreign nation and must become a confident and responsible leader for his people. There is a scene in the rain where you will experience emotions. Best watched with snacks. 2 features an enemies-to-lovers type deal with Chris Pine.

Ella Enchanted: A shrek-style semi-musical fantasy romance in which a young woman is cursed at birth to do everything anyone tells her to do. Features several Queen songs and dance numbers sung by Annie Hathaway and that guy who plays the sad dog guy in Hannibal.

Stardust: A huge loser travels from 1800s England (?) to a magical world in order to fetch a fallen star for the insufferable love of his life before she marries a massive douchebag. The huge loser? Charlie Cox. The star? A living person. Also a whole bunch of princes are ALSO looking for them as a race for the throne while discreetly killing each other off. And also a bunch of witches want to eat her so they can be young and sexy. 11/10. I used to watch this 10 minutes at a time on a YouTube channel that posted it in chunks filmed on a digital camera in their living room

The Last Holiday: Queen Latifah, playing someone played by Queen Latifah, has been working an underappreciated minimum wage job for years, living a safe and conservative life trying to lose weight and save money. Then she finds out she has months to live, and decides to finally quit her job and blow it all on one massive luxury holiday vacation complete with five-star dining, making friends and finding love and confidence along the way. It's definitely corny but it makes me so happy thank you Queen Latifah

Zathura: It's the plot to the original Jumanji but in space instead of the rainforest. But listen to me: There's a twist reveal at the end that you need to pretend isn't there. It is vitally important when you get to that part- and you will know what part when it happens- that you pretend it didn't. Otherwise, a fresh and enjoyable adventure for any age!

Redacted cause I haven't seen it in a long time and it may be worse than I remember, gotta rewatch

Bullet Train. You go in expecting a ham-fisted find-the-mcguffin style action comedy and are blindsided by excellent narrative symmetry and genuinely likeable characters. Fresh takes on old themes and creative action sequences. My little brother said "It's good", and he's a man who once sincerely argued that Lord of the Rings could have been better. It's fun and punchy violence with just enough smart stuff to not let your brain get bored

[deadsnakey]

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒, 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋..𝐍𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄'𝐒.

𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐘!𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 𝐱 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐱 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄

—> Being childhood best friends with both Mattheo and Theodore was an adventure on it's own. Although, what if they start acting more possessive and protective towards you once they develop feelings for you?

Thank you for requesting @slutsluvpaola - your ask here!💗

—> Childhood best friends to lovers trope, very fluffy, maybe a little suggestive, none toxic possessive behaviour & jealousy.

—> When you guys were kids, they were protective of you.

—> If anybody was messing with you or hurting you, they'd do something about it asap like it was on sight and they always left that person scared shitless to even go near you.

—> To the point where ppl just stopped fucking w u like they didn't have the balls to even try.

—> Cool now y'all are in Hogwarts and as they get older, they seem to be more handsy and possessive over you.

—> I mean you weren't complaining all that much. although, it would get annoying sometimes when you just wanted some space or to talk to someone or do something without them breathing down your damn neck.

—> But in third year you started getting feelings for mattheo, then Theodore a month later and you were so confused.

—> You kept the act up, just like they did, but eventually it got harder to pretend in fifth year.

—> When they were always hands on with you - hand on your thigh, holding your hand each, always sitting next to you every chance they got, pulling you into their laps randomly as they wrap their arms around your waist and nuzzle their faces in the crook of your neck.

—> Yeah, you were a goner.

—> The boys probably started falling for each other in the end of fourth year, so in fifth when they started liking you as well they too, were extremely confused .

—> Mattheo was bad especially because he's bad with his own emotions.

—> They will be at every party you're attending too, trust.

—> even if one can't make it and it's js Matty going w you or just Theo, one of them had to be with you.

—> It doesn't matter if you're in the same house or not, better marking on you tbh.

—> Mattheo hands on your waist behind you, Theodore in front of you holding one of your hands to guide you.

"c'mon, sweet girl, let's get some drinks at the bar." Mattheo said, letting Theodore lead the way. Mattheo got a cup, filled it with the drink you wanted before handing it to you. "Here, princess." Then repeating for Theodore and then himself. Satisfied, they go and find the rest of your friends; seemingly in the corner where the seats are, talking.

"look who finally came! The love birds of the group." Lorenzo snickered. "How about you go see if you can get into that girls pants, you know, the one you're practically eye fucking." Mattheo rolled his eyes as he sneered back. "I just might, mate."

You go to sit down when you feel hands clamp down on your hips from behind you, pulling you down with enough force to not hurt you. You look behind yourself, seeing Theo with a smirk pulling on his lips. You let him pull you into his lap.

Mattheo lights a cigarette and inhales deeply before exhaling. He silently offers it to Theodore as he blows the smoke out; Theo leaning in and inhaling the smoke, slightly touching Matty's lips as they make eye contact. Mattheo slithers his hand onto your thigh, you feel the warmth of his hand spread through your skin as you feel the few cold rings he has on mixing with the warmth.

He squeezes your thigh almost the same time Theo squeezes your waist, "you okay, pretty girl? Need anything?" You look at mattheo on your right, "no, I'm okay Matty. You?", "I'm okay. Now that I have you two here with me." He mumbles the last few parts of his sentence, a slight smile appearing onto his lips. Although, he knows you two still heard him.

—> sometimes their clinginess gets so bad where they will not let you get up for breakfast. Good luck convincing them to not miss all your classes as well lol.

—> they love cuddling you and each other but they'd never admit that.

—> they only cuddle each other if you're unavailable or not at school (holiday n stuff).

—> Tiny kisses to the back of your neck, forehead, nose and hand. It's a good excuse to kiss you and they love when you kiss them, too

—> Matty prefers his cheek or forehead kissed, while Theodore his neck, jaw or cheek.

—> tho it'd be better on the lips.

—> they go to the bathroom w you too.

—> they don't care it's the woman's bathroom, they will be guarding your stall!!!!💗💗💗 They can never be too sure.

Reblogs, likes & comments are much appreciated!🫶🏻

[mysteriousdragon2]

Art trade for @funkii-fox Requested me to draw N'Doul! Been drawing him quite a lot, along with Geb. But no complaints, drawing the two of them is always a treat- Geb especially because I get to mess around with how to draw water-like effects! Forgive me for the delay and mild inactivity, life's been a disaster BUT I will definitely post JoJotober in some weeks so everybody will get to see characters I don't draw often, or new characters completely! Thank you for the art trade chance once again, enjoy this N'Doul everybody ;p