#the latter is straight up a lie actually

[jojotichakorn]

i think the first ever bl every person watched should be publicly available information about everyone in the fandom. cause that will tell me more about you than any personal information or eventual tier rankings ever could.

[typingbunny]

I‘m obsessed with this

Him pressing her to the ground

His body covering her entire body bc he's so tall and broad, the feeling of his weight on her

The handholding that functions as pinning her down

His red ears (might be from the cold though)

The hand on her cheeks + kinda holding her chin just bc he can since his hands are so big

This is only a guess but convince me that he's not parting her legs with his resting one leg dangerously close to the warmth he "needs"

On that note: the ice melting during the kiss

His outfit is not only pretty but I bet fun to take off as well-

Warning: this is just smut, pure filth.

If you’re not 18+ this is your cue to leave 🚪

Zayne is the type of boyfriend that makes you ride him while looking into his eyes until you can’t hold yourself up anymore because it’s so intense and he’s reaching so deep.

He loves this view. He may be under you but don’t let it fool you to think you’re in charge. If he wanted to he could just fuck into you from this angle by slightly working his hips towards you and make you see stars. However at this point, how hazy you are already that would be just cruel … wouldn’t it?

This angle allows him a prime view to just watch you as you chase your high by using him as not more than a means to get that release you’re craving.

He’s obsessed with you. He tries to hide how much he really adores you because he doesn’t want to scare you away with how much he actually wants you, needs you, but he is sure you can feel his heart pounding beneath your hands as you straddle him regardless of his attempts to mask it. The heart cannot lie.

He reaches up and cups your perky breasts in his big, surprisingly warm, hands. They are so warm they feel like fire on your skin so much it feels like they are trying to burn themselves onto Zayne’s favourite part of your body. After idly caressing your breasts, Zayne changes up the soothing manner and opts for increasing the roughness of his touch as he alternates between massaging them gently to squeezing them harshly from time to time, a feeling that goes straight to your core.

The look on your face, that cock-drunk expression: mouth slightly agape, eyes struggling to stay focused threatening to roll back and you tearing up because of how good he is making you feel. Zayne has jerked off to your face more times than he wants to admit.

He gently cups your face causing you to ground yourself a little and make eye contact with him. His thumb strokes over your cheek in an adoring manner until it travels down to your lips. They are pink and swollen and for a second he thinks about sinking his cock between them, but not now. Now he wants you to cum for him while he is buried deep inside of you. Deeper than any other man ever was nor would for that matter because that is out of question. No matter the circumstances or consequences, Zayne would hunt down whoever tried to replace him. He could easily make it look like an accident. Sometimes his love for you scares him but that’s a price he is willing to pay.

“Open.“

He doesn’t have to elaborate, you know exactly what he wants as you start sucking on his fingers like a shameless whore. His whore. Only his. Forever. The little velvet box bearing an engagement ring, that has been resting in his part of the closet for a while being a token for that.

“Good girl.“

He takes his wet fingers out of your mouth and swirls them around your nipple and a tiny moan erupts from you. Zayne chuckles and you send him a playful glare. That glare doesn’t hold up long though because drinking in how sinful your boyfriend looks under you, you’re quickly occupied with trying not to cum but rather ingrain that image into your memory so you’ll remember it for the rest of your life.

Black hair pushed back, slightly tousled; most likely a result of your doings earlier when his face was buried between your thighs. His cheeks and ears are red, a telltale sign that he is either embarrassed or aroused. Right now it’s the latter. His forehead is covered in beats of sweat and his eyes are filled with something that can be only described as pure lust.

You’re brought back to planet earth by a cold pinch of your sensitive nipples and another moan escapes you. That crazy motherfucker used his EVOL and it felt good. Make lemonade out of lemons or whatever they say.

This was the last straw to your somewhat composure. Now you are clutching onto his shoulders to hold yourself up as Zayne continues his assault on your nipples.

“Zayne-”

Hearing you moan his name always does it for him. He can feel something in him snap, most likely his self control and his blood practically starts to boil.

“Come here.”

And then, with a swift motion he just scoops you up into his arms pressing your chest against his as he rocks you up and down the whole length of cock like his personal fleshlight. If you weren’t moaning and screaming you’d be in awe of how strong he is as he rocks you up and down hitting deeper than you thought was ever possible, muscles flexing beneath his perfect skin. In an attempt to get even closer to him you bury your face into his neck and let yourself be consumed by Zayne’s smell, that certain smell you call home. God the things you’d do for this man.

Clutching your thighs, his fingertips leave little marks that knowing Zayne, he will profusely apologize for tomorrow. Meanwhile you’re holding onto his shoulders for dear life carelessly leaving little crescent moons on his back.

He once pointed out, how much he actually enjoys you “leaving a mark on him”. First you thought it was a typical Zayne move trying to comfort you so you don’t feel bad about hurting him. But one day when you where looking for pictures on his phone for a little gift you were preparing, a photoalbum for your anniversary, you found an interesting picture.

It was Zayne in front of your bedroom mirror trying to photograph said marks on his back. You contemplated to tease him with the evidence but the mental imagine of big mean Zayne (that’s at least what others who didn’t know him thought of him to be) standing in front of your bedroom mirror trying to get the perfect picture was too adorable. What you don’t know is that once he got it, he just stood there in the middle of the room looking at the picture, 6’1 of lovey-dovey mush with a loopy grin on his face.

So right now you are basically clawing at his back amping up the scratches the more he moans and curses under his breath.

Once he can’t take it anymore and the only thing on his mind is breeding you as he cums over and over again deep inside of you filling you up until you beg him to stop, he embraces you tightly and flips both of you so he is on top. Your legs are wrapped around his waist and he feels your wetness all over him. Immediately his hands find yours, interlacing your fingers. What looks like romantically holding hands is his gateway to restrain you, holding them tightly pinned over your head so your tits are completely exposed.

His lips find one sensitive nub and he starts devouring you while looking up at you through his lashes, and you swear if he keeps that up you’re going to reach your high from this alone.

“Zayne please-

M-Move!”

He detaches from his favourite toy, his personal little make her dumb button so to speak, to look at you, a twinkle in his eye. For a second he imagines what it would be like to make you suffer a little bit and make you beg for it. Because he knows you would beg for him. Just like you have many times.

You’re so fucked out and desperate for him it turns him on so much it almost hurts and though he swears couldn’t possibly be any harder he feels another wave of desire wash over him, threatening to drown him. Not only does he accept his fate, the thought weirdly enough makes him beyond happy and he struggles to hide the smirk creeping up on the corner of his by now swollen lips as he goes in for a kiss and you can’t help but surrender yourself to.

“ Whatever you want my love.”

He leans down whispering in your ear, voice laced with desire, and something slightly … sadistic?

“Just remember, you asked for it.”

From that point on, only the gods above can help you and the bed frame …

I don’t know why but I picture Zayne to be less of a butt guy and rather a boobie guy maybe because of cardio lmao … 💭

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

mob student appreciation time ⏰

In Crewel’s Rich Fur Coat vignettes, Grim blames Yuu for something that he did to avoid incurring the teacher’s wrath.

TO MY UTTER SHOCK, two mob students actually speak up to defend Yuu. This is huge because mobs are typically portrayed as instigators or bullies, especially early on in the main story.

One tells Grim to not blame Yuu and that it’s bad to lie. The other one straight up declares that it was Grim who is responsible for the mess. Now, while the latter goes on to say that Grim blaming others will get the rest of them into trouble too (implying that the mobs are only defending Yuu for selfish reasons/to avoid being punished themselves), I still appreciate this little moment 😭

[chasingpj]

𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞

"Hi, my name's Nico!"

pairing: platonic!nico di angelo x older sister reader

summary: you found your pugsley addams

warnings: brief mention of injury, grieving a family member

category: one-shot but not really

a/n: this is probably awful but do i need to fulfil my big sister urge to protect our beloved nico? yes. yes i do. i got this idea listening to Here With Me by d4vd, if you want something to listen while reading <3

“Hi, my name is Nico!”

Tousled dark brown hair, big brown eyes, a toothless grin, and a squeaky voice. Strangely, he doesn’t cower at your eyes, sizing him up. Either he doesn’t care or he’s clueless to your judgment. You're sure it’s the latter. 

How could this tiny boy, with too much life in his eyes, and too much excitement in his voice be a child of Hades? Considering your father’s exciting track record with children, this wasn’t what you were expecting when Chiron mentioned you had a brother moving in soon.

He’s just so… lively. 

The blinding daylight outside poured through your agape curtains and it surrounded his small frame like a giant halo. 

The sight was violent.

It gave you a headache. 

“What’s your name?” He waits antsy for your answer and you debate on even giving him one. 

Father told you he didn’t have any living children besides you. Considering the boy in front of you, it was a lie, or he had forgotten about him. Either way, you plan on arguing about it later. 

How dare he give you a roommate. Let alone a roommate barely in the double digits. This boy could have a tantrum today, and you didn’t sign up for babysitting.

“My side.” Your fingers point to the left of the cabin which is furnished with a bed, shelves, a desk, and a nightstand you got shipped to camp. “Your side.” 

Lazily, you point to the right. The lone bunk bed that initially occupied the space is tucked there, ready for the roommate you never thought would arrive. 

After three years, you had debated on getting rid of it, maybe donating it to the Hermes cabin. Gods know they need it but you guess keeping it was the right choice. 

“Inside voice only. No laughing, no whining, no groaning, no screaming, and especially, no crying.” 

The boy’s face falters into a slight frown. Your unblinking, emotionless face had settled into his awareness. For the first time since he’s arrived, he looks down at his feet. “Okay.” 

Your vision follows his movements as the boy retreats to his side of the room. His suitcase drags across the floor, making a wretched sound and it shoots irritation straight into your chest. 

Harsh words threaten to spill from your lips but they get caught at the back of your throat.

At least he’s compliant, you consider. Better bubbly and compliant than bubbly and stubborn. 

★・・・・・・★

“Psst.”

Did you imagine it? The sound was so faint and quick, you weren’t sure if it even happened. 

Voices in passing weren’t foreign to you. The occasional energy likes to linger around. 

If it was that, you refused to spare a single movement to signal you heard anything at all. A bothersome ghost wasn’t really in your plans tonight. 

There wasn’t a twitch in your face or a pause in your breathing that gave you away. And as you do every night, you remain laid on your back, hands lightly folded and rested in the middle of your stomach. 

“PSST.” 

Great. 

The second time was filled with so much urgency you couldn’t conclude it as a trick of the ear. Suddenly, you’re filled with dread. And it wasn’t from the possibility that when opening your eyes, you may find an entity looming over you. Honestly, you wished that’s what you were expecting. At least then, you’d be more interested. 

But no, you knew the sound came from no one other than the pest who sleeps across the room. Even now, you are fully aware of his small presence beside your bed. 

You had to give him credit. At no point did you hear him approach.

A silent stride just like yours? Maybe you actually are related. 

“What?”

Nico tenses up, his hand flings back to his side. He was just questioning if you were even alive, judging from your barely rising chest. Not sure what to do after your lack of response, he thought giving you a little poke would get a reaction but from your tone just now, he was glad he didn’t get to test that out. “T-the statue…” Nico didn’t dare look over, gaze set on your blank face. “What about it?” “It blinked.” 

Nico rubs his sweaty palms on his pajama pants, feeling the looming presence of Hades's statue. 

The past few nights, while lying in his bed, he kept returning to the same conclusion. He couldn’t be the only one who thought sleeping in a room with a giant statue was kinda creepy. 

Sure, it was just stone, but at times, it felt like it was looking at him. He thought he was just imagining it at first. Bianca did say he had a habit of spooking himself out but it didn’t stop him from sleeping with the sheets over his head. 

Tonight, however, amongst the deliriousness of waking up, he made the mistake of looking over. His vision was hazy, but he was sure of what he saw. The statue had blinked. Clean and quick as if it was supposed to do that. It was more than he’s ever seen you blink, and he’s been with you for almost a week. 

“It does that sometimes.”  

“What?” Nico’s voice was laced with so much emotion you could imagine what face he was making. Behind your eyelids, you envisioned the scared face Mr. D made you identify recently in therapy. It was so comedic to you, you almost smiled. 

“Go back to sleep.” A whine immediately leaves Nico’s lips, and your hand moves up, arm bent at the elbow, your pointer finger in the air. “No whining.” “But—” “Still whining,” you point out, and Nico remains quiet for a moment. Taking consideration of his silent movements earlier, you assumed he retreated to bed, but as he cleared his throat, you wished you could roll your eyes with them closed. 

“I’m scared.”  

“And what do you want me to do about that?” 

“I don’t know. When I’m scared, my sister—” 

“I’m not your sister.” 

Nico frowns but remains in his spot unmoving. As the seconds passed, your awareness of his presence started to irk you.

“Ugh.” 

The tired glare on your face makes Nico cower, and you sling your legs to the side. Another sigh leaves you and you march over to his side of the room. He waits as you rip the fitted sheet from the top bunk and throw it over the statue. 

“There. Happy? He can’t stare at you if he can’t see you.” 

“Now it just looks like a ghost,” Nico shifts, fear still on his face.

There’s a smack as your palm meets your forehead. A child of Hades scared of a ghost? You were about to tell him to get used to it but before you can nag him an idea graces your mind. 

Quickly, you walk over to your desk, hands searching for a black marker. Once in your grasp, you drag a chair to the stone and stand on it. 

Two circles for the eyes and one smiling open mouth. 

Moving away to see your drawings, you decide it was a refreshing sight compared to the usually stoic face of the god. 

“Better?” you ask, tone still bored as you cap the marker.

Nico’s eyes light up, a smile growing wide on his face. Who would be scared of a happy ghost? He nods brightly, and you make your way down, eyes rolling at the entire situation. “Go to sleep,” you command, and Nico nods, more willing than he was a few minutes ago. As you both return to the covers, the boy glances across the room one more time. “Good night,” he calls, and you stare at him for a moment. 

He always says it despite you never saying it back. Under your gaze, he waits expectantly, but it never returns. Just as every night, you lie down without a word. 

★・・・・・・★

Capture the flag isn’t your cup of tea. 

In the summers, you never participated. The bright sun, the humidity, it all made you want to claw your skin off. 

Usually, you get out of it but Mr. D pointed out there was no reason not to participate since most of what you hate about it isn’t a problem this time of year. One comment from him and Chiron takes it upon himself to ensure you attend. 

You hated it. 

Forced to strategize with Thalia and Percy, you are reminded the weather wasn’t the only thing you despised. It was dealing with everyone else too.

"I'll take the offense," Thalia volunteered. "You take defense."

"Oh." Percy hesitated. "Don't you think with your shield and all, you'd be better defense?"

"Well, I was thinking it would make better offense," Thalia said. "Besides, you've had more

practice at defense. What do you think, Y/n?” 

Your gaze flickers between the two waiting expectantly for your opinion. 

The tension between them has been something else since they’ve come back from retrieving Nico and losing Annabeth in the process. It’s not like there wasn’t any tension before but right now, you can smell the power struggle and it stinks. 

“I don’t care. Argue amongst yourselves.” 

With that, you turn on your heels, looking for the boy who surprisingly isn’t standing behind you like a shadow. Your eyes search the crowd for a few seconds until you spot what looks like a pile of floating armor next to the Stoll’s. 

A small sigh leaves your lips. Whoever gave him that definitely is setting him up and judging by the poorly contained laughs of the Stoll’s, you can guess who’s rooting for Nico’s downfall. 

The boy, painfully unaware of this, just beams at you, too excited for the game ahead. Lazily, you make your way towards him and immediately, he’s bouncing happily, his mouth ready to bombard you with questions. 

Your palm rises before he could and he freezes, obeying your silent command. “You need to tighten that.” 

He looks down at himself, his helmet swinging down into his eyes and he struggles to pull it away. “Which part?” 

“All of it,” you snap. The sadness that flashes in his eyes shouldn’t have affected you but you straightened up, closing your eyes to recollect yourself. “We’ll get you better armor afterward.” 

Nico nods, gaze softening as you adjust the straps of his armor. You tug on them as much as you can, jerking the boy left to right with the movement. 

Once every strap couldn’t be tightened anymore, you step back to take a look. It didn’t do much but at least his plate is snug against his chest.

“Okay kid, stay out of the way and be careful with that thing.” Nico looks down at his sword, which is probably too heavy for him. “We need to get you another weapon too. Gods, who did your orientation?” 

Nico points over at the Stoll’s who are occupied with other campers. Sending a glare in their direction you huff, “Of course.” 

"Heroes!" Chiron calls, swiftly getting everyone’s attention. "You know the rules! The creek is the boundary line. Blue team—Camp Half-Blood—shall take the west woods. Hunters of Artemis—red team—shall take the east woods. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. No intentional maiming, please! All magic items are allowed. To your positions!"

“Do I get magic items!?” Nico screeches causing you to cringe. Whipping your gaze in his direction, he cowers sheepishly, his eyes filled with hesitant apology.  “No. Remember what I said. Stay—” “Stay out of the way and be careful with my sword.” Nico finishes your sentence and he smiles at the evident distaste in your expression. 

Your eyes flicker along his frame. “And don’t get hurt.” 

★・・・・・・★

Nico, to no one’s surprise, got hurt. 

Honestly, you couldn’t be upset at him, it’s not his fault he got caught in a spell cast. 

A certain Circe camper did a fine job at missing her every target, leaving Nico standing in the outfield like a giant bullseye. The force alone sent him back a few feet and he slid across the field like a rag doll for a few more feet afterward.

As he lay there limp in shock, you genuinely thought he died. Before you could wield the ground to swallow up his attacker, he groaned and stumbled back on his feet. 

Lucky for her, disappointing for you. You haven’t gotten around to doing that trick in a while. 

“Well, you definitely have blunt force trauma injuries, everywhere,” Fletcher says, removing his hands from Nico’s abdomen. The boy reclined in the cot flinches at the bruises already forming along his ribs. 

It looked pretty bad. So much so that you decided it would be cruel to tell him to stop crying.

“But you don’t have internal bleeding in your lungs so at least you won’t drown in your own life source.” 

Despite the smile Fletcher flashes at Nico, it doesn’t affect the look of horror on his face. 

“Nothing Ambrosia and Nectar can’t fix. You’ll be fine in a couple of days.” Fletcher helps the small boy sit up in the cot. He passes him a small cup of Nectar and orders him to drink up while he gets what he needs for the sling Nico’s arm will be in for a little bit. 

A sniffle leaves the boy as he observes the drink he’s left with. “What does it taste like?” “It depends on the person,” you sit back in your chair. “Usually tastes like something nostalgic, a favorite food or drink. You won’t know until you try it.” 

Nico nods, hesitantly taking a sip. As the flavors settle on his tongue, his eyes progressively widen. Next thing you know, he’s swallowing it like he hasn’t had a meal in days. 

“It tastes like the almond cookies they had at the Lotus Casino!” 

You nod in response, having some memory of Nico telling you about the Casino he and his sister lived at for a while. He’s told you plenty about it, you just weren’t listening most of the time. 

“I liked those the most because it reminded me of the cookies my mom would buy us.” 

Nico looks down at the cup, his smile faltering by the second. There’s a shadow clouding over his orbs and you quirk an eyebrow. The sadness overtaking his features looked strange. Sure you’ve seen him upset but you knew enough to recognize this expression as anguish. 

“What is it?” Your words came out more monotone than you intended. Shifting in your seat, you wondered why you even asked. Vulnerability wasn’t really something you sought after. It puts a bad taste in your mouth. 

“I was just wondering if Bianca would taste the same thing… but she never ate the cookies with me.” 

A hum leaves your lips. You don’t know much about that sister of his but you knew two things: first, you were here while he was hurt and she wasn’t. Second, her absence made Nico upset. 

“I understand.” Your vision is set on the small window beside you. Set on the fields of campers ahead, you ignore Nico’s burning stare. “I don’t like the taste of my nectar or ambrosia.” “Why?” “The flavors remind me too much of things I want to forget. Your sister probably didn’t eat those cookies for the same reason. It’s too much. Too many things tied to the things you like the most.” 

Nico’s silent, staring at the paper cup in his hands as if he was searching for something. 

“Nico, there’s one thing you need to know.” He averts his gaze over to you. “You’ll make friends, you’ll have lovers, you’ll have family but at the end of the day, the only person you truly have is yourself.” 

The boy shifts in his place, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t let people steal parts of yourself from you. They’re going to disappoint you, expect it, and don’t be sad about it.” 

Silence followed somber and stuffy silence. For once, you were glad Fletcher returned in all of his child of Apollo gleam. He was better at cheering Nico up than you were, that’s for sure. 

★・・・・・・★

“What do you mean ‘He’s gone?’” Percy slowly retreats from your advances. Twice already, he’s stared at the glowing eyes of a child of Hades and the second time was even more intimidating. 

“He just disappeared,” Percy stutters out. “It looked like shadows took him, and then he was gone.” 

Schist. You didn’t even know the little rat could shadow travel. By now, he could be anywhere. You’ve been on him about training, but he still had that childish clumsiness to him. His chances of survival would be out of pure luck. 

A groan leaves your lips, knowing you’d have to go find him. If it were anyone else, you would have let them be, but this unfamiliar urgency in your chest wouldn’t allow it. You had to find and drag him back by his ear if you had to. 

Your eyes roll at the son of Poseidon, and you turn on your heels without a word. So much drama because of that sister of his. 

Rushing down the stairs of the pavilion, you conjure the shadows to form a portal that’ll lead you straight into the forest. 

Di Angelo, you better be alive when I find you. 

★・・・・・・★

How does a 10-year-old with short legs get so much distance? 

After hours of searching and instigating some fights with monsters, he was nowhere to be found. Concluding that, maybe, hopefully, he found his way out of the forest, you have to settle with waiting for him to return. If he returns.

Tired legs take you up the porch steps and you shrug off your coat the moment you step through the door. As the warmth graces your chilled skin, a floorboard creaks.

“Nico?” 

“Y/n?” Your name comes out of his mouth like a desperate plea as he reveals himself out of the shadows. With rosy, tear-stained cheeks, and watery eyes, Nico bolts in your direction, and for a moment, you think he’s going to attack you. 

It would be a bold move. Though, with his speed, he could get a good hit but he ended up doing something much worse. 

He hugged you. 

His small frame flings into you, short arms grasping your waist as if his life depended on it. 

“Percy broke his promise,” he cries, hot tears running down his cheeks and dampening your shirt. “Bianca,” he shutters. “He told me she died.” His frame shivers harder, the action almost too violent for his frame. You weren’t sure how but his grip tightened, “What am I going to do?” Get over it. 

The hostile thought was a knee-jerk reaction. Your mouth was about to relay the message but you stopped yourself, the words getting caught in your throat. 

The logical answer didn’t feel right. Why didn’t it feel right? 

Suddenly you’re aware of the sunken feeling in your chest. Its foreign nature made it hard to distinguish whether it hurt or if it was discomfort. 

This is odd.

Nico cries and cries, and by now, the clothing of your shirt is sticking damp to your skin. The longer you stood there, stuck on what to say next, you felt an urgency as if your response was timed. 

Rarely were you lost for words. Actually, you can’t recall a time when you have but right now you stood with your mouth open like a fish out of water. “You stay here,” you say abruptly. Nico pulls away, eyes glistening in the ray of moonlight seeping into the room. He’s so small. 

Not that he’s not small on any other day. His narrow shoulders droop and turn into themselves from the weight of the news. He looked fragile, searching for something other than his grief and he’s searching for it in you. 

It wasn’t often someone came to confide in you. Your advice was always too abrasive, and cold, and never did you have the urge to give something different. 

That’s what made this moment so strange. As Nico waits expectantly, you can’t find it in yourself to disregard him. 

“You stay here,” you repeat, the words delivered before your brain could process them.“And you train, and make friends, and find your own way around life.” Nico frowns, sleeve wiping his nose. Amongst his sadness, something flickers in his eyes. “Stay here with you?” With you. 

You couldn’t begin to decipher what that question made you feel. Forget the question, its delivery was hopeful and that surprised you the most. 

The feelings were almost overwhelming and before it completely flooded your senses, you shoved it to the side.

“Who else?” You clear your throat in an effort to get yourself together. “Is there anyone else who lives here besides me? Does the statue count too?” The question was genuine but something about it made Nico crack a smile.

“Anyways, you’ll see her again.” You shrug, stepping out of his loose embrace. 

“I will?” “We’re the children of the dead. We can just find her.” Find her so I can kill her again.

Nico sniffles, the sound snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“Stop crying,” you blurt out, and the boy blinks, face pink. “Crying doesn’t fix anything,” is all you say before returning to your side of the room. 

Nico swallows, trying to suppress the tears. 

You were right. Crying doesn’t fix anything but even though it was true, his emotions were all too much for him. Sniffling softly and wiping his face with his sleeve, he retreats to bed. “Good night,” he says, voice quivering. 

Nico crawls into the covers, the fatigue hitting him the moment he rests against the spring mattress. Unexpecting, he wraps himself up, eyes shut tight in hopes he’ll be asleep soon. “Good night.” 

Nico’s eyebrows furrow. He finds some strength to lift his head just enough for you to be in his line of vision. Blinking in surprise, he swears he saw a smile on your face. It wasn’t teasing, or happy. It was comforting, as slight as it was. It wasn’t much but to Nico, it made him feel like he’d be okay. 

Without another word, you slid into your covers and went to sleep. 

★・・・・・・★

“Where’s the brat?” With crossed arms and a look of determination, you stood authoritatively at the double doors of your father’s dining room. 

The god sits at the very end of the grand table, skeleton butlers wait on either end of the room to serve him. On the polished mahogany wood, the bulbs of the many crystal chandeliers lined up across the ceiling reflect like ornaments. As Hades wipes the sides of his lips with a cloth napkin, the side of his mouth quirks as he catches Nico peeking behind your back like a child behind a mother’s skirt.

Since when have you been maternal? 

“I’m sorry, who?” Your father asks with fake confusion. The smile on his face already gave you a headache. You weren’t here to play games, you meant business. 

“You know who.”

Hades clears his throat and his eyes flicker over to Nico. Quickly, the small boy retreats nervously, eyes set on your back. “I don’t know where your sister is, boy.” 

“I don’t believe you,” you cut in. Nico wasn’t going to speak, the boy practically shivering in his father’s presence. Even as he refrains from confrontation, he’s in awe at your comfort towards the god. 

“There’s dead people in and out of this place. You think I would know?” Hades asks and a hum leaves your lips.

“I would think you’d at least keep track of your kids but if you’re going to be this useless to me, I’ll find her myself.” 

“Wait.” 

You halt turning on your heels and raise an eyebrow. There was a moment of disbelief, your father helping and not making everything so difficult for you, for once? You wonder who could have possibly granted this miracle. 

“She’s somewhere down here,” Hades says and you wish your expression could get straighter. “Wow, I would have never figured that out. Thanks.” Grabbing Nico’s sleeve, you begin dragging him out of the room. 

“She’s not in the meadows, I checked. I don’t think her life has been judged either but Charon said he rowed her in. I can feel she’s close.” 

You sigh. Finding her is proving to be more of a challenge than you thought. By now, you would think she’d be judged and categorized wherever the judges saw fit. However, from the dead ends, you’ve stumbled upon so far, you consider that she doesn’t want to be found. As annoying as it is, the chance to prove you can find her was enough to get you to keep going, “Noted,” you mumble, already deciding where you will look next. “Close the door on your way out!” “No.”

★・・・・・・★

“Okay, listen here…” You move a little closer, eyeing the name tag on the frightened guard. “Atrius. Have you seen Bianca? She looks like this kid.” Pointing at Nico, the ghost peers over your shoulder. 

“No, I haven’t seen her.” As definitive as that statement was, he didn’t sound so definitive. His bones clinked together as he shivered in your presence. 

“I don’t like when people lie to me.” You stare into his empty eye sockets. One moment passes and then two and then three and still he hasn’t budged. Irritation buzzed at the back of your skull. You had the time but none of the patience to play hide and seek. 

Nico stands a short way behind you, partially concerned for your victim. He wasn’t sure what you were going to do if you didn’t get what you wanted. The skeleton flashed him a look and even with no skin on his face, he could tell it was pleading. 

“Help me!” He was saying without a word. 

The boy doesn’t move from his spot though, instead looking away sheepishly. Pleading or not, he looked scary. That and Nico really wants to find his sister. “I’m not lying!” He insists and it annoys you even more. Quickly, in one movement, you grab his leg and tug so hard it comes straight out the socket. Tossing it to the side, your eyes don’t leave him as he yelps, falling straight to the ground. “Tell me where she is, or I’m tossing both of your legs into Tarturus. Last chance.” 

Atrius wails at your threat, the sound was so hysteric you almost missed his confession. “She’s hiding in Lady Persephone’s garden, amongst the pomegranate trees!” 

Nico flinches when you whip around. Already he was unsettled by your interrogation methods but nothing prepared him for your face.

You were smiling. Your eyes looked lit up. 

Not gracing him a look, you walked right past him. From his surprise, his brain never gave his body the signal to move. Instead, he averts his attention to a distraught Atrius whose more than relieved he finally got you out of his bones. 

Right as he’s about to look away, Nico jumps in his skin as the skeleton looks right at him once again. It was only then did he find the courage to move. Walking backward, he smiles sheepishly. “Um… thank you,” Nico’s tone is apologetic. Across the courtyard laid Atrius’s leg and the boy takes a step in that direction but is halted by the sound of his name. “You’re coming or not?” You ask him, foot tapping with impatience. 

Not wanting to keep you waiting, Nico forgets about retrieving the guard's limb. “Sorry about your leg!” He shouts behind him, hoping the apology was soothing enough as he joins your side. 

The young boy stares at the back of your sneakers as you make your way through the underworld. Already he’s seen some things that spooked him out too much. This was like walking through a horror maze for him. 

For you though, he notices you’re more comfortable around here than you did at camp. Your usually confident stride had purpose and authority. He wonders if he’ll ever walk through here the same way you do one day. A part of him hopes he does.

“Alright.” Nico halts, almost bumping right into you as you stop in your tracks. “We walk through here silently. Watch where you’re stepping, if you crush one of Persephone’s plants, I can’t help you.” 

The boy’s face contorted with fear. “What do you mean you can’t help me?” He couldn’t decipher the look you flashed in his direction but it sent your message well enough. Don’t step on one of her flowers and you won’t find out. 

Nico’s small nod is enough to get you moving. With silent and slow steps, you walk along the paved pathway toward the cluster of trees in the back. 

It hadn’t settled into Nico’s awareness that his sister was hiding. You could tell. He was still hopeful and excited to see her and you can imagine if he knew, he wouldn’t be happy about it. 

You’re not happy about it, that’s for sure. What even was her problem? If there was anything Nico deserved, it was to see her before she gets sent to the meadows or decides to reincarnate. 

Once you approach the trees, you shuffle through them. You’re thankful Nico’s naturally taken the role of your shadow because he mimics your sneaking, staying out of sight with you. 

He probably thinks your caution is due to Persephone arriving at any minute. You feel this strange tightness in your chest, he really has no idea you’re trying to sneak up on his sister so she doesn’t have the chance to run.

Right as the thought passes, you catch sight of something moving in the trees. Locks of brown hair wisp through them and the pulse in your neck picks up. It seems you’re not going to avoid a chase. 

Nico barely had time to catch up as you bolt through a straight diagonal through the trees. You admire her audacity to try and get away. The smile that stretches across your face is from amusement alone. 

As Bianca makes a sharp right, you gather the shadows at the tree's stumps and will them to consume your body. Nico blinks and suddenly you’re gone. His quick steps come to a stop as he looks around, trying to catch any sight of you. Then he hears a cry of pain and he moves fast in that direction. 

The only thing on his mind was the possibility you got hurt. Even if you were in your father’s territory, were there still monsters that could attack you? Even worse, what if you stepped on Lady Persephone’s plants? If you can’t help him in the scenario he did, what was he gonna do? 

His pace quickens as he hears another cry and finally, he bursts through a wall of vines. 

Still clouded by his concern, his brain barely processes what he stumbled upon. There you were, fingers grasping tight at his sister’s ear. Bianca groans and struggles in your pinching grasp and you look up at Nico with a gleam, like a fisherman who just got his catch of the day. “Got her.” 

“Nico?”

Bianca freezes at the sight of her brother. There’s a silence that follows and you’re surprised Nico didn’t immediately bombard her with questions. 

The girl straightens up once you let go of her and as your arm returns to your side, you catch the tears brimming Nico’s waterline.

Yeah, this is when you clock out. Your work here is done. 

“I’ll… wait for you over there,” you point through the trees and at the meadow of flowers that wasn’t too far. It’s enough distance to be an earshot away. 

Nico nods, his eyes unmoving from his sister. 

Once you’ve shadow traveled to your spot, you didn’t dare look in their direction. With your eyes planted on the flowers, you wait for Nico to return. 

The boy didn’t take too long which left you lost for words. He didn’t look happy when he met you in the garden. His eyes held a feeling a part of you understood. 

“I want to go home.” He frowns. 

Home. You didn’t even consider camp a home and you’ve been there for three years. 

“Okay.” Your voice was right above a whisper. 

Whatever happened back there was the end for him, the last time he would see her. Knowing how that felt, you waited. Just a moment, maybe two. If Nico had any reservations or second thoughts, you gave him time. When nothing came, you hoped whatever happened, he’ll find peace in it. 

The shadow gathered slowly, first at your feet then at your legs and soon the two of you were traveling through blurred shadows and harsh winds.

★・・・・・・★

“Who did this?” You weren’t sure if the streaks of water on Nico’s face were from his eyes or the toilet water soaked in his hair. 

The boy sniffles, cheeks and nose flushed from his embarrassment. After the incident, he rushed back to the Hades Cabin to wallow in self-pity but his assumption you wouldn’t be there was wrong. He didn’t want to admit what happened, scared he would disappoint you for clearly losing this battle.

His mouth opens to answer but nothing comes out. He considers lying but as you raise an eyebrow, he grows too anxious to come up with one. 

“Nico,” you say his name firmly and the frown on his face deepens. “It was Clarisse and her siblings, they-” he gurgles out through his watery whines and you sigh. “They…, I-” 

“Breathe.” You kneel to his height and take a deep breath, waiting for him to follow. He does, his chest filling with air and he releases it shakily. 

“They surrounded me in the bathroom and Clarisse shoved my face in the toilet.” 

His lip quivers as he recalls the memory. Nico’s eyes flicker across your hardening features and you rise from your spot. “Go clean up,” you demand, already heading to the door. 

“What are you gonna do?” “I’m going to fix it.” 

★・・・・・・★

Gravel crunches under your shoes, without a single weapon you persist into the camp’s arena. Clangs of swords and grunts could be heard from outside of the entrance and as you made your way through the doors, there were the Ares’s campers sweating and panting from their already hard day of training. 

Clarisse stands there authoritatively, the swing of the grand door grabbing her attention and the snug look on her face had set off a slight rage in your chest. 

You were ready to wipe it off. If only she knew what she had coming. “Did Nico tell on us?” One of her brothers asks mockingly, your presence already known to the entire group. They stood, waiting for a fight as they make no effort to sheath their swords. 

A smile almost graces your lips before you could even execute your plan.

“His big sister is fighting his battles for him.” They laugh and joke at your brother’s expense and something snaps in your mind. 

The ground suddenly sinks into itself, and Clarisse and her siblings stumble to the side in confusion. Before they realized what was happening, there was no chance to run. 

A sinkhole, perfectly round and deep enough to trap them forms right under their feet. They roll and drop to the bottom, coughing at the gravel waterfall surrounding them. 

You hear their shouts and complaints and you make your way to the edge. Looking down at them, you ignore their demands to be let out.

“No one messes with my little brother.” 

As if on cue, there’s a screech in the distance and it immediately fills their expressions with dread. A lopsided smirk appears on your lips and soon the shadows of massive wings appear overhead. 

You whisper a demand to attack in ancient greek and the harpies swoop down with a call like a battle cry. There’s a collective panic of your victims and a laugh leaves you, watching as they spear their swords in the air at every charge towards them. 

Calmly leaving the chaos you’ve caused behind, you find an audience. Unaware of their bewildered expressions, not because of the scene but at the joyful smile on your face, you hoped you’ve sent a message.

Be nice my brother or else.

masterlists

[ratboyvince]

The Magnus Protocol - Glitch theory

In light of the current theory/assumption that in The Magnus Protocol, the audio glitches when the characters lie, I’ve been re listening!! And I’m going to be using this post and others to explore what this means for our beloved characters

The glitches aren’t on the transcript, sometimes there will be a direction like (uncertain) or (unconvincing), but thats the best i can do you for, otherwise you will have to take my word

First though, quick clarifications: what exactly is a lie in this context? - this is fairly obvious but i am including it for the avoidance of any doubt what i have gathered is that, in this theory we are assuming a lie is a character saying something they KNOW is not true in attempt to wilfully deceive someone

It is NOT:

A joke, or sarcasm

Believing something but being wrong

Finally, a lot of the lies i have so far are ones that are known to known to be untrue, what i will do is have a list of the blatant lies SO FAR to make my point, to work as support for the theory on this post then leave out any following ones to avoid making it excessively long.

The rest of them will be under the cut and more on a thread, sorted by episode. If i miss any, feel free to say!!

BLATANT LIES (theory support)

1.

Teddy: Colin was just saying how much of a BLAST he’s having (GLITCH) isn’t that right?

Lena: oh really.

Colin: Aye, sure (GLITCH)

Teddy: And how he’d love to take the after party to the Pub (GLITCH)

2.

Gwen: Sam? You okay?

Sam: um. Yeah. (GLITCH)

3.

Sam: cinnamon swirl. Please. (GLITCH)

4.

Gwen: Wait. Did you get me a coffee?

Sam: yeah. (GLITCH)

5.

Celia: Sorry, sorry, there was an emergency at home (GLITCH)

EPISODES 1-11 (where applicable) UNDER THE CUT

Episode 1

Teddy: Nahh, we’ll stay in touch, right?

Alice: Course…(GLITCH)

Alice either did not intend to keep in touch with Teddy, or genuinely just does not believe they will.

* saying she’ll miss him was NOT a lie, so it’s probably the latter

Episode 3

Sam: right, right i get it. Consider me *scared straight* (GLITCH)

He wasn’t taking Alice seriously, underestimating how serious it actually was (maybe even as light payback for her not taking him seriously)

Episode 5

Lena: I am certain that if he finds his current assignment unmanageable he can request assistance (GLITCH) or resign, of course…

She knows what the deal is with Central IT (whatever “the deal” may be), and just refuses to help. Maybe even sets up a little hostility between Lena and Colin?

Episode 7

Alice: listen, if you need to step out for some air-

Celia: no, I’m fine, really (GLITCH)

Celia was infact, not fine, probably because she recognised Chester’s voice as Jon “The Archivist” Sims himself and she’s freaked out

Episode 8

Gertrude: well I’m…sorry, but I don’t think gerry can help you. (GLITCH)

—

Gerry: -And then i left

Sam: and that’s all?

Gerry: Yeah I’m afraid so! (GLITCH)

Gertrude and Gerry know more than they’re letting on, and intentionally not sharing.

*Gerry not remembering most of it being true, means that while he’s probably leaving something out, there’s more he genuinely is lost on

Sam: I…may have given you a quick google

Celia: then…yeah. I’m doing a favour for Georgie. (GLITCH)

She Is Not Doing A Favour For Georgie - the research (teleportation, time travel, different universes) is more personal!

Episode 11

Sam: you keep glancing at the door

Alice: ah. It’s nothing (GLITCH)

—

Alice: it’ll be nothing! I’m just jumpy (GLITCH)

Alice is dismissing her anxiety following the trip to the institute.

Alice: “What have I told you about thinking?“

Sam: “Don’t.”

Alice: “That’s right.” (GLITCH)

Probably meaning that Alice is starting to doubt her own ideas, but is just pushing that uncertainty away because that’s what she does and she’s still more comfortable in ignorance, even if she doesn’t think it’s exactly RIGHT to ignore.

[mooncalfed]

whimper (i)

insomniac Simon Riley learns to exist in the dark

[ fem!reader - inexperienced!reader - slow burn]

He rings in the second night of leave the same way he has for eight years now - a sharp inhale, eyes flying open, heart racing, a moment of weightlessness before crushing anxiety.

On the pillow to his right are a pair of folded sweatpants and hoodie. They lay largely undisturbed because they belong to a man that has learned to lie still.

He sits up, puts on the hoodie and slips on the sweatpants before sliding his phone and keys from his bedside table into the pocket of his sweats. He vaguely notes that there is a hole in his pocket but also remembers that he has noticed this eleven times and has yet to do anything about it.

A roll of the shoulders, a quick, snatched yawn, and he is walking quietly to his front door.

He grabs his mask, a simple black surgical one for the witching hour, and slides a beanie over his head.

He slips out of his apartment without so much as a shuffle and takes quick stock of the corridor. Empty, cool, silent. Same every night, but vigilance pays dividends for someone like him. The locks on his apartment click into place and he shoves his hand in his pockets before melting into the night.

It takes four hundred and twenty-seven steps for him to arrive at his destination.

It’s a small coffee shop slash bar that opened a while back. Between his deployment to Bosnia and Peru, if he remembers correctly. It’s tiny and open at all hours for some inane reason, but he is thankful for the routine respite it offers.

There is no one on the street as he nears the shop. As he walks in he notes that there is no one in the shop, either. It isn’t out of the ordinary, but he briefly wonders about the financial viability of a place like this before he realises he doesn’t give a fuck.

He marches straight to the corner booth that gives him a perfect view of the entire store. Back to the wall, entrance at eleven o’clock with the kitchen doors at two o’clock. The owner hasn’t come out from the kitchen yet but that’s okay, because there’s a routine that needs to be followed and he is a few minutes early.

The clock above the drip coffee machine reads 3:07 and with each minute that passes he finds himself winding tighter, stomach clenched and fingers curled into fists in his pockets. He runs his thumb along the length of his apartment key, feeling the cool metallic teeth warm up as his flesh presses harder and harder against its grooves.

He counts his breaths, two beats in and five beats out. In through the nose and out through the mouth.

He’s at breath twenty-five when you walk in.

Huffing from the cold, you stumble in far less gracefully than you usually do. He notes your gloved hands and thick coat and it occurs to him that it is rather cold outside. He has a difficult time noticing these things anymore, rarely cares.

He sees your bag on your shoulder and a clump of your hair trapped under its strap and wonders whether you will bother pulling it out before you set down your bag, or whether you will slump into a chair and just wince when your hair is caught by the material. He’s seen you do the latter far more often.

You rustle for something in your pocket and he watches with a pulse of amusement as you pull out a rubber, your phone, and a hair tie all in the same gesture. Those items are placed on the table you always choose - the left side of the shop, directly opposite the coffee machine, back to the window, two tables away from the entrance and two tables diagonally away from him.

It bothers him that your back is to the window. It disturbs him deeply that it doesn’t seem to phase you, that you put yourself in such a vulnerable position and seem to actually like that.

You pull out the chair and your bag slumps to the ground. He flicks his eyes up just in time to see you grimace when your hair is snagged by your bag. He smirks.

The next bit, he knows by heart.

First comes your drawing pad. Then, your two notebooks, one blue and soft-bound, the other black and hard-covered. Then comes your wooden case of oil pastels, which is placed underneath and followed by a smaller green box of pencils. You rearrange your phone so that it is on your right, and then flip it so the screen faces down. The rubber is set on top of that, and then your hair is tied up into a loose but high ponytail.

You take a deep breath, and he finds himself mirroring you. 

Fists clenched, stomach tense, jaw trembling.

You look up and smile.

“Hello Simon.”

He breathes out.

[the-last-f2p]

Yandere promts day 16

16. “Don’t lie, angel. you know what happens”

Featuring: Jing Yuan

Note: Dr ratio will be tagged here probs :>

TW: Implied kidnapping, this kind of written in a different confusing-ish pov.

"Y/N, look at this one!" Yanqing smiles brightly, brazenly holding up what has to be the twentieth sword today "It's half-price."

"So how much is it now?" You ask, trying not to feel bored and enjoy this moment.

"100 000 shield." Yanqing manages to murmur awkwardly.

"Next one." You say in a deadpan way.

This idea of a shopping trip had been pitched by Yanqing after seeing you cry as soon as Jing Yuan walked out of earshot. It took a while like a while while and a lot of begging but you two managed to get it on the rules that:

You're only allowed in the artisanship commission

You and Yanqing are to stay together

Yanqing thought it was great because you gotta get out. You thought it was great because you got a chance to run. It's a win win.

"Okay this one is just 10 000 shield."

"Eh-Y/N? Wh-fuuuccckkk!"

You had 'joked' about running away a couple of times today but he didn't think you were being serious!! Oh my Aeons, the general's gonna be so mad at me.. Yanqing mentally cries.

Just find them before the general does.

Easier said than done.

It must have been ten minutes. At the most. And you crashed straight into something someone. They were tall and fluffy? (probably from the amount of hair). And they were very familiar...

To re-quote Yanqing "fuuuuuccckkk!". It's Jing Yuan.

"Y/N? Aren't you supposed to be with Yanqing? Don't tell me you-... And to think I trusted you."

something about you figuring it out, JUST LIE. "No we got separated, it was really my fault though I thought-"

"No."

"Pardon?"

And then Jing Yuan laughs. It's very breathy and quite unsettling since he was trying to be seirious two seconds ago, "Don't lie, Y/N. You know what happens." He smiles at you, but there's an unertone of something. Anything.

There's only actually a couple of things he could do, incessant physiological and physical torture OR nothing. Hopefully it's the latter.

[iloveapplejacks]

WET DREAMZ P4

Inspired by Wet Dreamz by J.Cole

I wrote back and said "of course I had sex before"

Knowing I was frontin'

I said I was like a pro baby

Knowing I was stuntin'

But if I told the truth I knew I'd get played out son

Hadn't been in pussy since the day I came out one

But, she don't know what

So she done roll back and told me

"Oh you a pro homie? Well I want you to show me

My mama gone for the weekend

So Saturday baby we can get to freakin'"

Warnings: heated make out

"You ever had sex before?"

This question caught Chris off guard causing him to sit looking down wide eyed

He looked at her and saw that she was looking at him waiting for an answer

2 thoughts went through his head, one was, should I just tell her I'm a virgin and I hadn't been in pussy since the day I came out one

Or should I just lie and say I have?

Deciding on the latter, Chris Coughs before writing

"Of course I've had sex before, I'm like a pro baby"

Y/N looked at Chris , seemingly shocked by what he said just as she was going to respond the bell rang.

Chris waited by the door and they both walk together to their next classes

"Well this is me" Chris chuckled as he begins to leave but Y/N grabs his arm to stop him

"I know this is going to sound so straight forward but I literally have not been able to stop thinking about what you told me" she mumbles before taking in a deep breath and looks at Chris

"What are you doing this saturday?"She asks

"I have no plans so nothing much probably, why?" Chris Asks confused

"My parents are gone for the weekend, So you can come over" she says

"Yeah sure we can like watch a movie, relax and shit" he shrugs

"No, you said you were a pro homie, And well I want you to show me" she said before walking away

The week that followed was quite quiet, well as quiet as it could be after Y/N confessed her desire to Chris .

Which, of course freaked him out. I mean it isn't everyday that A drop dead gorgeous girl wants to make a dick appointment with him.

Who wouldn't freak out?

If you had asked Chris how many videos he watched pornos online to help him educate himself on something he clearly wasn't Educated about.

He taught himself how to put on condoms and practised how to stroke right

Fucking hell, why did I have to lie? He thought to himself

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday sped past and before he knew it, it was Saturday night.

Having made sure he wasn't smelling musty and was prepared, Chris began to make his way to Y/Ns house but not without saying a prayer

"I'm praying God please don't let me buss quick"

Arriving at her door, Chris knocked twice before he steps back, after a minute or so, the door opens

"chris hey" she smiled as he looked at her up down, Short shorts and a tank top

- damn

"Come in" she smiles, opening the door wider and grabbing his hand and leading him upstairs

A smirk plays on his face as he closes the front door with his leg and stares at her ass as he followed her blindly

She opens the door to a room and let's go of chris’ hand and sits herself on her king sized bed. He follows suit and sits himself next to her

She crosses her legs and looks at him with a smile

"What is it?" he says looking at her funny which causes her to laugh and shake her head

"Nothing, I just can't believe the guy l've been crushing on for ages, is actually here" she chuckles shyly looking away from his face

"Damn? You're hiding another dude in here?" he says jokingly Which causes the two to start laughing

"Nah I'm playing, you like me?" he asks with a massive smile on his face edging nearer to her

She bites her lip as she looks into his eyes before looking at his lips and then back up to his eyes

Chris cups her face with his hand and leans in and begins to kiss her

She reciprocated and he deepened the kiss, pushing her back slightly so that she was now underneath him

Her hands roam across his torso and she tugs at his shirt to remove it, when she does, she discards it

He removes her tank top and begins to leave kisses and hickeys down her body

Soft moans were heard as She grinded her hips against Him An action that caused him to get hard.

The feelings of worry and stress about whether he was doing things correctly all left his brain as the feelings of euphoria and Bliss overtook him

"You ready baby?" He asks, she nods her head vigorously which makes him laugh

the items of clothing they were wearing were removed wearing was removed

Chris trying to conceal his nerves opens a condom and rolls it on

He positioned himself between her legs and praying to God that he didn't bust quick

Just as he was about to insert himself inside of her

She flinched and grabbed it

An action that caused his heart to beat rapidly, and assuming the worst

Did she change her mind? Was his shit too small to fuck with?

she looks chris in the eye before she says with the sweetest voice

"I wanna get something off my mental, I can tell you're a pro but baby be gentle" she looks down shamelessly

“cause i’ve never did this before”

AHHHHHH OKAY SO IM DECIDING IF I SHOULD END HERE LIKE THE SONG OR HAVE ONE MORE PARTTTT😅 HAPPY NEW YEARS!!

[aihoshiino]

Chp 160 was so??????? that I am straight up unable to form an opinion on it.

Like I can see the story going one of two ways. 'Kamiki is the evil mastermind actually he faked his reaction to the dvd' or 'Kamiki is playing the villian but is actually not the culprit'

And like both directions have massive problems.

The former would mean that the movie (which we spent nearly 40 chapters on) amounted to fucking nothing. Other characters ominous talking about Aqua trying to kill his father with it? Ruby's so called revenge arc? Nah, that meant nothing, the movie didn't do a damn thing.

And while I prefer the latter interpretation as it's the tonally and thematically consistent way, it would also mean that Akasaka has been circle-jerking us with the 'Kamiki is an evil serial killer.' -> 'No wait actually he isn't.' -> 'SIKE, HE IS EVIL.' -> 'Nvm he isn't.' for some inconceivable reason.

It's a mess no matter how you slice it, honestly I am so tired of oshi no ko and I just want it to be over already.

YEAH. THAT'S BASICALLY WHERE I'M AT.

In general, I just don't know why we're having a second confrontation with Kamiki. Narratively and emotionally, it's redundant - having him come back into the story and get his final resolution would be fine but playing out Yet Another Big Dramatic Showdown between him and Aqua just falls so flat for a number of reasons. We've already had the huge release of tension that was Aqua and Kamiki facing off like nearly an entire volume ago and everything that was emotionally riding on that confrontation was emotionally resolved. I know some people are still mad that Aqua didn't hit Kamiki with an orbital laser or something, but the absolute fucking gutpunch that was 153-154 was so incredibly effective and also just more interesting than this much more generic standoff. Not only is it kind of mid on its own merits but I feel like it retroactively makes that first confrontation weaker because like... it ends up not really mattering and we get a take 2 where Kamiki is acting like an entirely different character.

@yuseirra made an excellent point in their discussion of ch159 which is that (thematically speaking) the movie has to be the method by which Aqua achieves his revenge because Ai's tragedy was the result of the public's perception of her. If it isn't able to do that then not only was that arc just kind of a waste of everyone's time, reader and character alike, but it means the movie itself as an object in the narrative loses what little shaky thematic ground it has.

An issue the Movie Arc always had that it never really engaged with to my satisfaction is the underlying discomfort of watching Ai's life being turned into a movie. I said this over and over as the arc was ongoing, but there's something almost repulsive about taking this character whose life was warped and eventually ended up the exploitation of the entertainment industry and the voyeristic gaze of the public and indulging in that voyerism by creating fiction out of her life, chopping it up and outright making shit up to invent a version of her that the public can devour. It claims to be a movie about 'Ai Hoshino' but literally and explicitly fictionalizes the most pivotal events and relationships in her life - the 'Ai' of 15 Year Lie is just as fake as 'Ai of B-Komachi', just sold with an even more insidious lie to make her go down a little sweeter.

If the manga actually engaged with this idea or was even the slightest bit aware of this underlying discomfort, the Movie Arc as a whole would've been much better off for it and so would all the resolutions in the arcs following that rely on it as foundation. But as it stands, the movie is thematically dead on arrival and the fantastic emotional resolutions we got out of it, in spite of everything, have been seemingly retconned into irrelevance.

[instarsandcrime]

A Divine Comedy of Errors

Hey @zensations35, guess who? Your Ra//dio//App//le request is all done! We've got Sick!Seraphim!Lu/ci/fer and Worried!A/la/stor. I did my best to balance the silly, the hurt, the comfort, the snz, and the feels! And I chose the macro and monsterfucker parts because it is my personal responsibility to experiment with my writing and, in the process, make myself suffer at all times. 👍

This is a sequel to my previous fic Overworked and Under-Managed, but honestly it can also be a standalone thing too! Though I did sprinkle in a few romantic gestures this time for good luck! And like before, I'm working off another Sick//tember//2024 prompt. This time it's "taking a sick day".

Quick cw! There's also a little bit of mess and, although it's not much, I still wanted to give a heads up just in case!

Alright, that's all from me. Enjoy!

---

“This is stupid.”

“Now now, there’s no need to be so touchy, Your Majesty.” Alastor cautioned, peering over a shoulder at his pathetic patient. Pouting, fluffy nightrobe wrapped snugly around his shivering frame. One arm bunching up the warm collar around his neck, a tissue box tucked under another.

“Hey! You dragged me out of bed at three in the morning without explaining anything and now I’m- ugh!” Disgust twisted the demon king’s face as he kicked swamp sludge from a poor, unsuspecting duck slipper, “—wading through whatever this shit is in the middle of a bayou! I can be as– uff! touchy as I want to be!”

“Hah! If you actually chose to sleep rather than push yourself to the breaking point, maybe then you wouldn't be here spouting your grand excuses.”

”Well maybe it's because I suck at bed rest, okay?! Sure I've got the bed part down. That's simple! Easy! One quick hop and you're done! But the rest part? Nope. Nuh-uh. The second I close my eyes I feel a tickle. And when I feel a tickle I just know I'll cause some kind of chaos around the hotel. So it's my responsibility to keep myself under control in case I– ...in ca-case I...hih!" A pause. His nose twitched, breaths turning shallow. He couldn't help but groan in frustration as he ripped a cluster of tissues from his box to stifle painfully for the billionth time.

"Ht’chnx! Hn’chxt! H-hehhh–” Sneeze. In case he sneezed. Saints above was he sick of doing that. “Heh’TCHNX’hewww…ow."

“And what well-timed proof of your incompetence. I should be grateful, really.” Alastor grumbled, dusting the newly created pink glitter from his suit. 

“Oh shut…up…hhh–!” Before Lucifer could even lift a finger to suppress another possible fit, the other slid to his back. Squeaking in alarm when his arms were restrained by the crook of an elbow, spraying a fine mist straight into a gloved palm.

“Het’CHMPH! Guhhh…” Lucifer glared up at the looming demon, “Hey, what’s the big idea?!”

Alastor released his hold with a grimace, quickly disposing the near-soaked fabric into his shadow– followed by a spoonful of hand sanitizer. “Admittedly not very big, but certainly necessary.” 

“What do you mean by–”

“Ah, here we are.”

The Radio Demon surged forward, hooking a large fan of willow leaves with his cane to reveal a sudden clearing. Moss spread thickly across the plush, overgrown field, ripples peacefully lapping at the water’s edge. Fireflies hovered just above, hemming the murky surface with a soft, warm light. It was a breathtaking sight, and it made Lucifer pale entirely. Because now he knew what was happening.

And he hated it.

“Look, Alastor, I’m not going to lie. You're the worst. Your breath stinks like a rotting carcass. Every time you open your mouth all I hear is claws on a chalkboard. And Father forbid you get a few centuries of beauty sleep because wow you need a serious makeover.”

“Is there a point to all this, or are you asking me to push you into the swamp water? At this rate I’m inclined to choose the latter.”

“The point is! The point. Is. I can't ruin something like this. This bayou is precious to you. Louisiana is precious to you.”

“Oh, please. Have you forgotten who I am? I made this place, I could easily undo whatever meager scratches you cause.“

“But that’s—”

"Regardless, your creative powers leak through whether you like it or not. You might as well release it in a space that won't harm the hotel."

“I don’t– hehhh!”

“And no, you will not get stuck in your condition by 'letting yourself go.'” Alastor stressed, pinching the space between his eyes. “If I may speak freely Sire– this is ridiculous. You’re exhausted and ill beyond belief, and if you suppress one more magic-infested sneeze I will tie your hands to the ground myself. For God’s sake, the cure to your condition eluded me until you accidentally let the damn thing slip at dinner! So what, pray tell, is so beneath the King of Hell?"

”H-heh-aht’chhhh! I'm—ht’chnx!“

“Is the transformation painful?”

“N-nuhh– no– Aht’CHSHH!”

”Does it drive you mad beyond all belief?”

“No!” Lucifer wheezed out, “Focus! I’m trying to tell you thahhh…that…sonofahhhHATSCHH-‘TCH–’TSCHH’hhiew!”

But Alastor was not focused on his disjointed, half-assed reasoning. Nor the painful failures to bury his fit through the whistle of little fireworks that followed. No, Alastor was focused on the sight that briefly flickered behind his patient. It was for only a second-- a blink and anyone would miss it-- but it was there. There, and massive. And judging by the way Lucifer suddenly froze, he'd known the same. His stare fell to his feet, pulling back his collar to reveal a fracture in his porcelain skin. Holy light pierced through the growing cracks, and Alastor found himself squinting curiously at the sight– as if the true puppeteer of such a tiny doll didn’t satisfy the hunger enough.

“Ugh, forget it! You wihh…win…‘Etchhh!”

“Good.”

“Grea– snff!-- great!”

“A pleasure doing business with you.”

A pause.

“Well?”

“I, uh. I can't do it if you're watching.”

“Oh for God’s sake.”

“Look, do you want me to take this shit off or not?!” Lucifer spat, flames spouting from his lips.

"Phrasing, Your Majesty." Alastor sighed, begrudgingly turning his back. “Better?”

乃𝒆ţt𝐄𝓇.

The sinner nearly jumped in place. It was certainly a voice that rang out— or something along those lines. More of a chorus of pitches and concepts of tone. And yet they harmonized as one.

Ť𝑒𝔰丅ιℕ𝔾, Ｔεsting!  Well. At least the idiot’s mind remains intact. It would cause quite a scene if he had to drag the drama king kicking and screaming from another plane of existence. Whew! Okay, you can look now. But take it slow because hoo boy it is a  l o t. 

The Radio Demon decided to go as slowly as he pleased– with all the caution of a bull in a china shop. And all too quickly he chastised himself, holding a hand to his temple. Maybe, just maybe, the seraphim’s warning was not unfounded.

Though the pocket of home was designed to be near endless, his mind couldn't conceive the number of wings that crossed the metaphysical. They were still somehow boxed into such a wide universe, glancing around with eyes that decorated each feather like adorned jewels. Or so the sinner presumed before the memory continued to fade for another. In fact, the only tangible features he could possibly grasp at the moment were flowing robes and two small wings that wrapped around a near-featureless head like a blindfold. 

And yet the being could see perfectly, thin lips pulled into a frown, staring with-- ah. Alastor was just adjusting, but he could certainly recognize the overwhelming anxiety. The least surprising part that he did expect, of course, was his size. He didn't just crane over Alastor. He towered over him-- a far cry from the false shell he wore. Somehow, Alastor stuffed down a pang of petty anger that threatened to overtake him.

He'll lecture the idiot on giving him a proper fight later. 

Alastor? Are you alright? The ground trembled ever-so-slightly as the Saint slowly, carefully lowered himself. 

"I'm offended that you’d even ask." The caretaker took a small step back before hopping up on a folded knee, giving it a sympathetic pat-- earning an embarrassed flush that overtook fever.

Oh, thank goodness. I almost-- I... The wings around them flared, puffing at each desperate buildup. Quickly Lucifer drew a wavering finger in a circle to create a portal, grabbing a familiar crimson fabric before pitching into it. "ATSHHHHEWW! AHDT’SCHHHHEEWW! HATSCHHHHHIIEEEWW!"

Each shiver of ivory skin sent shockwaves through the flora below– and from above sent Alastor hurtling towards the reeds.

Shit, I-I can’t see you! Did you fall? Are you okay? Lucifer squeaked, infinite irises darting.

"Okay is certainly an overstatement, Sire. You nearly ruined my coat!" An offended huff brushed the seraphim’s ever-shaping ear and, once again, The Radio Demon was meticulously scanned. Paying no mind to the sudden attention in the shadowy nook of his patient’s shoulder, playing with a tuft of shimmering plumage.

Sorry! Don't know m'own strength. Lucifer’s large body hunched in on itself in shame, quickly pressing the makeshift tissue to the space where his nose should be– now golden-tipped with irritation– desperate not to sniffle too strongly.

"Is that my blanket." Alastor's smile sharpened.

I panicked okay?!

All too suddenly the complaints stopped. Time for the saint came to a standstill, and Alastor was barely able to wonder if that was a very literal metaphor before the cotton-knit carpet beneath him hiked up again. He quickly pinned himself to Lucifer’s neck, bracing for–

“ETCHH’CHHHHHF!” He doubled over again. S-sorry, sorry! I can’t help it! I’m trying to hold back but I cahh– can’t–huh-hgf! “ATSHH’HHHHHF! HUH’ATTKSHHHEWWWW!” Rrrgh, forget it! You should go be-before– hhhHHH!

Panicking, a multitude of palms weaved into being. Desperate to stifle again, quick to suffocate–

“Oh, please.” 

Black tentacles wrapped around countless wrists and yanked, pinning them and the seraphim to the ground. He cracked open a watery eye, strikingly bright with anger as he watched Alastor hop up on his cheek. When I break– “Snff!” –break free I swear I’ll–!

“Do what, might I ask? You’ve threatened my life a million times, what’s one more?” The Radio Demon teased, focusing on keeping his patient's poor, abused nose in his reality. He pointed his cane, lightly scratching along the rims of the nostrils as he spoke. “Poor, poor Lucifer Morningstar. Despite your constant objections, you’ve served Hell for so long. Haven’t you ever wondered what it’s like to bow to someone else’s power? Especially to such a lowly sinner like me?”

Ahhh— Alasto–or!

“So tell me, oh great and benevolent fallen saint, why should I stop now? It seems quite like a fair trade to me! I get to boss around one of the most powerful beings in existence, creator of light and the illumination of free will. And you, my dear, get to take a sick day.” And with that, he poked the very end of the tip. “Effective immediately.”

“GEHH’AHTSHHHH’HUUE! ATSHHHH! HAT’KSHHHHUUE! H-HAH-AHHH–! ETCH’TCHHHH’FFF!” The bayou rocked with thrashing waves and unearthed roots. For a moment the sky flashed to dawn, then dusk, before resuming its starry night. Wind whipped through Alastor’s hair followed by a gust of debris and dirt. A few raspy, heavy breaths and the chaos slowed to a stop. He peeked open one eye, then another. Finding himself safe in the eye of the storm, cradled in a soft flurry of wings pressed to the seraphim’s chest. 

Mnnn…bless m’be. Lucifer bit back a heavy sigh before he could cause anymore damage, shaking aside his chains before scooping Alastor up. Small scarlet eyes met large, weepy ones– blindfolds making way for a sea of silver and gold. And yet Alastor swore he could see constellations underneath their elegant surface.

“Well, that wasn’t so hard now was it?”

Thadd was cruel. The other whined. He flicked a wrist between congested sniffles, lacing a cotton cloth into existence. Obdnogxiously true. But still. Fugk you.

“Have you ever known me to be kind?” The sinner tilted his head curiously, ignoring a noseblow that bent the few trunks that remained, branches laying bare at their feet. “Honestly, it’s like you’re afraid of hurting–”

Every fibre in Lucifer’s existence tensed. In that moment, The Radio Demon was suddenly very aware of what the problem was from the beginning. And it was hilarious.

“Y-you! You–” He wheezed between a laughing fit, leaning on the base of a pointer for support, “You? You’re scared I’ll get hurt by you?! Hah! I’ve always taken you for a king, but a jester? Bravo, Sire! I haven't seen such a marvelous performance since the Iroquois Theatre Fire of 1903!” 

A gleam of moonlight brushed his vision. His giggling died down to find a crystal clear orb floating in the air. Another dancing around them. And another. All mingling with the night sky to reflect an aurora of colors. The eyes that had once remained hidden came into view, leaking droplets that never quite touched the earth.

And oh, Alastor realized. He’s crying. His ears wilted against his will, and adjusted himself accordingly to remedy the error. “I must admit, I never suspected an ancient being such as yourself was capable of fear.”

Of course I’m afraid! Lucifer curled into a tight ball, clouds slicing into ribbons as he brought all wings in on himself. Leaving Alastor stunned and alone, perched outside on a slightly shaky arm. Do you know how hard it was to show you this disgusting side of myself?

“Lucifer.” Alastor scolded back at the self-loathing a little too kindly for his liking.

Oh, don’t you Lucifer me! Sinners don't exactly like being reminded of Heaven. Especially the design of God's right hand. I must be a nightmare to you!

“And?”

A wing cracked open, thousands of surprised gazes peering back. Pardon?

“How does that apply to us?” Alastor arched an eyebrow. The fallen angel blinked, pearly tears unsticking from his crystalline lashes. A flustered heat rose to the wavering spots on his cheeks.

Alastor, I am literally Hell’s version of an atomic bomb.

“Mhm.”

I could kill you if I looked too hard. You could turn to ashes.

“Sounds exciting.”

Alastor!

“What was it you said just a second ago? ‘Don’t you Alastor me’? Honestly! I find it insulting that you would even question my strength, nor allow me the benefit of the doubt. Everything I’ve done up to this point, and further still, is by my design. If you ever hurt me, rest assured that I already knew the risks a thousand times over. Besides, recovering alone is incredibly unproductive. Take it from…my own personal experience.” Sharp claws tapped against the middle of his cane, “And besides, what would dear Charlie say if she saw you in such a state? Alone and helpless, losing control of his body? Poor thing would be worried out of her mind.”

…And you? Lucifer asked hopefully, the barrier between them cracking open a little more. Just a little more.

Alastor rocked on the back of his heels, bracing himself. “I suppose so.”

Finally the curtain parted, and Lucifer raised his hand to greet the other, leaning close with a soft, ethereal smile. Thank you I really–...r-really…

The telltale sign of a twitching nose. A hand rose to his face like clockwork. His caretaker opened his mouth to protest. But before he could, it moved instead to cup Alastor in a tight-knit shelter.

“HEH’ISHHHHUHHH! ISHHH’HUUUE! HH-HGHH-HUT’TTCHUUUE! ”

His wings snapped open at the force of every outburst, tree roots ripped from their homes and marigolds snapped at the stems. A billowing fog that spilled out turned from fire to dust and back, reshaping itself again and again until it settled on a light rain, creating puddles on the ground. And when twilight finally crept back into Alastor’s vision, Lucifer was sniffling thickly– unrestrained. Relaxed. Devoid of any concern or self-pity.

Briefly, Alastor wondered if this is how it felt to fly.

I cadd’t use your bladket, right? Do– “Snrfff!” Ugh, do we have more? He smiled sheepishly, holding up the sad pile of ash that once resembled a tissue.

“Pauvre ti bête! That sounded awful. I’ll see what I can do for your fever and nose.” Alastor hummed, signaling a small lift to press a kiss to his cheek. “And thank you for trusting me.”

[wooahaeruby]

Chapter 22: Stupid Prizes

Chapter Word Count: 4,886

TW (Not really)

1) Jeonghan is an idiot 2) Seungcheol is awkward 3) I'm still losing my sanity like last week

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“ Sit down, we need to talk.” 

You’ve never had a chill run down your spine that felt so paralyzing. Your feet were rooted in place and you could feel your heart beating out of your chest. Seokmin and Jeonghan’s stern expressions didn’t falter, unreadable. It left you feeling uneasy.

Joshua was the first to move, keeping a firm, neutral expression as he sat on one side of the adjacent couch. You hesitated, clasping your hands together, feeling just how clammy your palms were. There was a shake to your hands that you couldn’t ease but this unavoidable conversation was going to get done sooner or later. Each step towards the couch was heavy, but you managed, slowly sitting down on the other end of the couch. 

You didn’t drop your head, only avoided the piercing gaze your boyfriend and best friend sent towards you. From the corner of your eye, Joshua looked much more relaxed, but the mental wall he put up to preserve himself was seen in his eyes. If he was nervous, he did well not to show it.

“Is there anything the two of you want to tell me?” Jeonghan asked, no humor or teasing lilt in his tone. 

Pushing down on your legs with your clasped hands, you were trying to stop your legs from bouncing. 

“Nothing? From either of you?” He continued, going to sit up and lean his elbows and forearms on his thighs. “What is it that Soonyoung says? ‘Silence is an admission of guilt ’?” 

Seokmin hummed, low and steady, crossing his arms over his chest. Jeonghan let his eyes run over you before flicking his eyes to Joshua, the latter’s hand tapping almost silently on the armrest. His jaw was tense and his shoulders were rolled back in some attempt to look wider if that was possible.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Jeonghan.” Joshua spoke up next, tone even but cautious. 

“Oh you don’t?” That playful spark lit behind Jeonghan’s eyes, a slight widening of his eyes and a smirk tilted the corners of his lips up. He looked at Seokmin and they shared a look, another unreadable moment. “Seokmin, I believe they think we are stupid.” 

“Wouldn’t be new from Mouse, but Shua? That’s just rude.” Seokmin’s lips twitched, trying to hold back a smile then turned his head to look at the aforementioned man. “One of our own…that’s cold, Shua. So so cold.” 

“Can both of you stop playing games and say what you want before you give Mouse a panic attack?” His other hand motioned towards you.

You let out the breath that you didn’t realize you were holding, tipping your head back and swallowing the lump that rested in your throat. When you set your head and gaze straight, you opened your mouth and it all came tumbling out.

“I have feelings for Joshua but I still have strong feelings for Jeonghan.” Word vomit. You never experienced worse word vomit than this moment. “I was going to tell you in private, definitely not in the presence of these two idiots, but then you sat us down and I’m panicking that I lied. Now I feel like I’m going to throw up because I feel guilty and ashamed because I didn’t know what was going on and it was eating me alive. And Joshua kept telling me that you were the one that kept pushing him to spend time with me so I only thought it was to actually keep me entertained then the flirting started and- God- Hell, I’m not even sure if it was because I was lonely or because I have actual feelings and-” 

“Mouse-” Jeonghan was up in a moment, making his way over but you waved your hands to keep him away. 

“And I don’t want this to mess anything up because I don’t want to break up with you and I don’t want to lie and say that I don’t have feelings-” 

“Mouse, stop-” 

Your breathing was ragged and the second your eyes met Jeonghan’s you could see the guilt and regret in his own eyes. 

“I’m sorry- I only wanted to mess with you a little.” He took your hands, kneeling before you. “Mouse, I set it all up. All of it. Seokmin was in on the whole plan.” 

Another breath was held tight in your chest, squeezing his hands tightly. Your shoulders were tense, you still felt sick to your stomach. 

“I want to punch you in the face right now.” It was all you mustered to say but Jeonghan only smiled, using his thumbs to message your palms. “I really want to punch you and Seokmin in the face.” 

“Yeah, no, can we backtrack for a moment?” Joshua’s voice was laced heavily with confusion. “Let me get this straight, Jeonghan, you asked me to hang out with Mouse for two weeks, when in reality you set this all up so we could what? Figure out we liked each other? And you got Seokmin to help you?” 

Jeonghan rolled his eyes and moved to sit on the coffee table, never letting your hands go. “Alright well, the full thing didn’t go as planned but more or less, yes. I knew you had feelings for Mouse, it wasn’t that obvious but it's hard to hide stuff from me of all people. So…one thing led to another and I just wanted Mouse to have company but also have you open your blind ass eyes and see what was right in front of you.” 

“It was funny to watch honestly.” Seokmin chimed in happily. “You both were trying so hard to act like you weren’t catching feelings but it was so obvious.” 

You made eye contact with Joshua for a moment before both of you were whipping your heads away, focusing on anything but each other. Seokmin and Jeonghan laughed but you weakly kicked your boyfriend in the shin, watching as he dramatically whined and held the offended limb. 

Joshua huffed and went from tapping his hand on the armrest to standing up behind the couch. He paced for a moment before throwing his arms up. “And what? Now that the metaphoric air is cleared, what do you want to do with this information? You know I like your girlfriend and she, vaguely, kinda, returns the feelings, do you want to rub it in my face that you have her? Gloat a little?” 

“Huh? Oh no, none of that.” Jeonghan dropped his dramatics, smiling wide – mischievously wide – and snickered. “I want you to date my girlfriend too.” 

You locked yourself into Seungcheol’s office of all places. 

Placing yourself down on one of the couches, you curled your legs up to your chest, refusing to listen to the nonsense from outside. 

“ Mouseeeeee! ” Jeonghan whined , knocking on the door to the office a few times. “ Mouse come out, come on! ” 

“No! Leave me alone.” You huffed. “I need to think.” 

“ I said I’m sorry! ” 

“And you can’t just spring all that onto someone, Jeonghan!” 

“ Dude, give her some space.” You could hear Seokmin whisper through the door before another whine left the older man. 

Now you were sitting by yourself, thinking of who the best option to talk to was. Seokmin, the person you’d normally go to, was currently a traitor and you were also mad at him. Seungcheol was never an option, neither was Junhui, Soonyoung, or Mingyu, they couldn’t keep a secret to save their lives. Seungkwan would ask too many questions and would more than likely judge you, Vernon isn't the…best at advice. While Chan and you had got close, you weren’t so close that you’d reach out for a conversation like this. Minghao and Wonwoo would be your best bet, maybe Jihoon but… 

Letting out a groan, you pouted at the wall. This was a mess. 

“Okay,” You huffed out, picking at the skin around your nails, “Run through the facts. Jeonghan goes out of the country for two weeks, he teams up with Seokmin to get me and Joshua close to one another. But both of them knew Joshua had romantic feelings. They forced- Heavily suggested he take me out for the last two weeks to what? Get me to have feelings for him?” 

It was completely bizarre, migraine inducing even. 

“And now Jeonghan just ‘ I want you to date my girlfriend too’ ? Who the fuck does he think he is? Not just springing that on Joshua but me? Trying to set me up with his friend?” 

The questions were never ending, pain pulsed behind your eyes. The sickness in your stomach thankfully eased but it only turned into annoyance. 

“How would this even all work? What the fu-” 

“ Hey Cheol- Wait don’t-” There was panic in Jeonghan’s tone, hearing him rapidly approach the office.

The doors to the office jiggled but didn’t budge thanks to you actually locking them earlier. 

“ Why is my office locked?” Seungcheol’s voice was right outside and the door shook again. 

“ Okay, well, it’s a long story but Mouse locked herself in there.” 

“Locked herself- What did you do this time?” 

Hearing Jeonghan gasp, you rolled your eyes. “Me?! Why blame me?!” 

Only a knock came now and a sigh from Seungcheol. “Mouse, open the door.” 

“Tell Jeonghan to go away, I’m not talking to him currently.” 

“Seriously dude, what did you do?” If Jeonghan went to say anything, silence was only followed by footsteps. “ He is gone. Can I get into my office now?” 

Standing from your spot on the couch, you trudged your way over to the door and unlocked them, cracking the door open to see for yourself if Jeonghan was actually gone. Your eyes were met with Seungcheol staring down at you with a raised brow and a tired gaze. Stepping aside, you pulled the door open and let him in, peaking out once more when he entered before closing the door. 

“Are you going to hide in here all night?” He didn’t turn around, lumbering over towards his desk and taking a seat. “If so, use your magic girlfriend powers and have Jeonghan order us food, I’m starving.” 

Oh…that was a good idea. 

“Pizza?” You asked. 

He tilted his head side to side in thought. “Twenty-four hour McDonald's is just down the street?” 

“Ohhh,” You nodded, taking your phone from your pocket. “Chicken nuggets.” 

A list of ‘demands’ was sent over text to Jeonghan, really only consisting of both yours and Seungcheol’s food orders, along with a pint of your favorite ice cream in the freezer and to simply give you space. To both your surprise, it wasn’t long before Seokmin was slipping in, an apology written all over his face, before handing off the bag of fast food and a blanket for you. 

“So…” Seungcheol leaned back in his desk chair, chowing down on some fries when he peered over to you, wrapped up in a blanket with your nuggets. “Do you…wanna talk about it?” 

“It’s complicated, and you won’t like it.” Ducking your head down, you nibbled on a piece of chicken. “Plus, I don’t want to hear or see you judge me or them based on the situation right now.” 

“That bad?” He frowned and you shrugged. 

“Jeonghan and Seokmin…did something manipulative, which wouldn’t have been the worst situation, but they took it too far, mainly Jeonghan did, and it’s fucking up my head.” You sighed, dropping your shoulders. “That was the worst description.” 

“I’m guessing it involves Joshua?” 

“Yeah. And I don’t want to talk to them right now until I can wrap my head around the whole situation.” 

He nodded, quietly eating his food, rocking some side to side in his chair. “Is it…like breaking up with Jeonghan worthy?” 

That’s been a question floating around in your head. 

It wasn’t that you wanted to break up with Jeonghan. What he did was wrong and hurtful, he placed you and Joshua in an uncomfortable position, exploited emotions you didn’t expect, and made it some sort of prank, joke? You didn’t know. It made you feel like you didn’t have any choice in the matter… You were disappointed in his actions, definitely needed space from him, including Joshua and Seokmin in that. More than that, once you cooled down enough, you’d be needing a proper conversation between you, Jeonghan, and Joshua.

“I don’t think this is worthy of that, but definitely a strongly worded conversation. I’m disappointed in Jeonghan’s actions, it was unexpected and unappreciated.” 

“Sometimes…Jeonghan doesn’t think before he acts. Or he doesn’t realize how fucked up his head is when he does something. I’ve seen him do some pretty questionable things when he sets his mind to it.” Seungcheol cleared his throat. “And I’m not saying that you should go easy on him if it was really messed up, but he’s never had a normal relationship with people in general. Kick his ass for all I care, just make sure he can still do his job.” 

“I know…” Finishing off your food, you hugged your legs close to your chest. “Would it be too much to ask for a ride home from you or someone else?” 

“Can I finish my food?” 

Deadpanning, you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Yeah, you idiot. You can finish your food.” 

When Monday came around, Seokmin was standing at the door to your office with one of your favorite pastries and a steaming coffee. He had a weak smile on his face, eyes shining with remorse, following you into the office to place the items on your desk. 

“Tell him to stop texting me.” You didn’t look at him, taking a few things from your bag and placing them on the desk surface. “I’ll reach out to him when I’m ready.” 

“I will.” His voice was quiet as he loitered near the doorway. “I wanted to extend my apology to you. I’m really sorry.” 

Turning on your computer and monitor, you sat at your desk, taking the moment to look at him properly. His hands weren’t shoved in his pockets like usual, now clasped in front of him, even nervous if you had to place a word to it. His shoulders were slumped but his eyes held your gaze and he was biting at his lower lip anxiously. 

“I know. I don’t fully forgive you, and I’d like to keep the space I’m asking for. I’m mad and disappointed with both of you and I don’t want to take my anger out on any of you.” 

“I understand.” He nodded, stepping back, out the door. 

“And I’ll be finding my own way home.” 

Seokmin hesitated, “Can I at least have Sona get you after work?” 

You knew it was for his peace of mind so you gave in, nodding at the suggestion. “As long as there isn't too much on her plate for her to do it, Seokmin.” 

He was hurrying down the hall not long after your conversation. For a Monday, your work was light, working through assignment after assignment with a bored and unexciting demeanor. If you were honest with yourself, you weren’t really paying attention. Once an assignment was done, you’d sit, scrolling through everything with unfocused eyes before sending it in and starting the next.

By lunch, you were ready to clock out. You had checked your email, cleared it out, and reorganized a bunch of files on your computer. With nothing else to do currently, you actually did consider clocking out early and going home. 

Pulling your phone from your bag, you stared at the notifications that piled up over the last day. Once you had gone home from the night at the penthouse, Jeonghan had been texting you nonstop. He had apologized, begged and pleaded, and tried to explain himself over and over no matter how much you left him on read or didn’t open the messages. To your partial joy, he did stop, but his last text was a jumble of multiple apologies in one long text. 

Your computer screen lit up and you dropped your head disgruntledly on your desk beside the keyboard. 

‘ Jeonghan told me what happened. - WW’ 

“Great…” 

Standing up, you went over and closed your office door and shut the blinds, a worldwide signal to not enter without knocking. You sat back down and grabbed your phone, calling Wonwoo. 

“ Shouldn’t you not be calling me at work?” 

“You and I both know I have nothing to do.” 

He hummed through the phone, you could hear the clicking of his mechanical keyboard. “ Personally, I think Jeonghan is stupid for what he did.” 

“I think he is stupid, and Seokmin too.” Slumping back once more, you stared up at the ceiling. “I’m so lost on what to do. What did he tell you?” 

“ He said that he and Seokmin planned it for a while. That the last two weeks were going to be Joshua’s wake up call, which apparent succeeded, then they wanted to fuck with both more but it ended up with you being mad and he just rambled after that.” 

“Did he tell you that he told Shua that he should date me too? Like I was some sort of object and not a person?” 

“ Oh,” There was a pause, even the keyboard clicking stopped. “ He didn’t say anything about that.” 

“Yeah, expected that one.” That didn’t make you feel any better. “Now do you see why I’m not talking to him? It just felt…gross. And don’t get me wrong, I know he is fucked up in the head, but come on? Really, dude?” 

“Yah, don’t let him use that as an excuse.” The shift in tone from Wonwoo was unexpected. He sounded annoyed for you, not at you, maybe even angry. “ Jeonghan is a grown man that can make smart, informed decisions for himself. He messed up bad and he deserves whatever anger or emotions you are feeling.” 

“I know, I know. I am mad, but I’m getting confused with my feelings for Shua and it’s clouding my head.” 

“Better question, how do you feel about a relationship with more than one partner? If that’s what Jeonghan is suggesting, then that is also a question you need to ask yourself.” 

Opening your mouth to reply, you stopped yourself, thinking over the question now that it was out in the open. Really, you didn’t have an opinion on the topic because you’ve never thought about the idea of having more than a singular partner. You knew some people in college had polyamorous relationships that turned out well, but also knew it relied heavily on communications from all parties. You weren’t opposed to the idea, honestly the idea was nerve wracking since it was unknown territory. 

“I don’t want to mess up one relationship to figure out another.” 

“ Now you are making excuses for yourself. How do you feel about Joshua?” 

“In comparison to what? Hannie?” 

“ Yes. In comparison to Jeonghan, what could Joshua provide that he can’t?” 

“ Who made you the love expert?” 

“ Shut up and answer the question or I'm hanging up.” 

“ Fine- Fine! He just-” You groaned, sinking down in your seat. “He is so much more calm, we don’t have to do anything, we could just sit and watch movies or cook together. He doesn’t need to go over the top like Jeonghan but I like that as well. They both…make me feel all gross and warm and fuzzy-” You probably sounded like a love sick teenager. “But what if something happens between all of us and things don’t work out? Imagine the mess it could be-” 

“ You are thinking of worst case scenarios, Mouse. Those two might be mentally… questionable, but they know how to talk when it comes down to it. Both of them are good listeners, the best out of everyone here, and can admit with some push that they are wrong.” 

“ Hey, whose side are you on?” 

“ Neither, I’m telling you the truth that you already know but don't want to say out loud.” 

“I hate that you’re right.” 

“ Best part of my day, Mouse.” You could hear his faint, airy chuckle. “ Sona will be picking you up after work, but don’t put off talking to them too long, we have to deal with them if you do.” 

“Yeah yeah, let me get back to work.” 

“ Have fun doing nothing for hours on end.” 

It took you until Friday morning to muster up the mental capacity to text Jeonghan. 

The message was simple, telling him you were going to have Sona drop you off at the house, you were going to make dinner for everyone, then you both would sit and have a very long conversation about what was going on before talking to Joshua if it came to that. 

The reply back was near instant, Jeonghan once again apologized, said a majority would be home after nine, and that you could talk and he would listen as long as you needed. 

You had already planned on leaving work early, having discussed it with Sona to bring you to the house. Wonwoo would be home and you weren’t going to pass up an opportunity to sit in Pandora, play video games, and maybe talk about what was going through your head. You were mainly going into the conversation blind aside from a baseline of explaining how you felt but you were unsure of how to bring up the relationship and the changes that can happen. 

By noon, you were gathering your things and your overnight bag and clocking out. On your way towards the elevator, you stopped at Seokmin’s office, knocking on his open door. He perked up and raised an eyebrow at you all packed up. 

“I finished, clocking out early. I’ll see you later.” 

He gave you a small goodbye before you were leaving the office, seeing Sona pull up to the curb the moment you stepped outside. 

You dropped everything into the backseat and got yourself situated in the passenger seat, kicking off your heels. Sona didn’t say anything, only pulling off and wasting no time in getting the trip going. Over the last week, you had filled Sona in on the situation, needing an ear outside of the thirteen of them to vent to, and she was disappointed. While they were her bosses, the joke of ‘what is said in the car, stays in the car’ was put in place and she called Jeonghan and Seokmin idiots for their plan. She called Jeonghan an even bigger dickhead for objectifying you in regards to the Joshua situation. 

It was halfway through the trip, staring out the window, when Sona spoke, relaxed in the driver’s seat. “I’m guessing you finally texted him?” 

Sighing, you curled your legs up to your chest, “Yeah, we are gonna talk tonight or tomorrow, I dunno.”

“Are you going to be stress-cooking?” 

Mocking her tone, you huffed. “I need to make meatballs for thirteen guys that actively work out and don’t eat enough to sustain their physique. Apollo is the only exception because he will eat everything in sight if we let him. Of course I’m going to stress-cook over the situation and them!” 

Peering at you slumping down in the passenger seat, Sona only laughed, tapping her hand against the wheel. “We love the SVT new mother hen, Mighty Mouse.” 

“Not you too!” Now you were really sinking further into the seat, seeing the gates to the property come into view. “You said you wouldn’t call me that.” 

“Never made me promise though.” The mocking tone had you rolling your eyes. 

When the car finally came to a stop, Sona reached into the back and grabbed your things, placing them in the front seat once you got out, easy for you to grab. You went to close the door when she called out. “If you need any help kicking their asses, I can always quit.” 

She gave you a wink and you rolled your eyes once more, closing the door and waving her off. 

The house was quiet when you entered, kicking your heels off at the door and dropping your things on the dining room table. You wasted no time in pulling your hair up and out of your face, pulling your earbuds from your purse and slipping them into your ears. The moment the music started playing, you were moving, pulling out the ingredients you had Mingyu add to the delivery list. 

You were undisturbed though the chopping process, getting all the vegetables ready before you were forming the meatballs on a baking tray. A large stock pot was already simmering with homemade marinara sauce, the open kitchen smelling divine from it. The idea was to make enough for them to eat tomorrow since it probably wouldn’t last the next few days.

In the moment it took you to get the tray in the oven to semi-cook the meatballs and turn back around, Wonwoo was standing on the other side of the island, staring blankly at you with a can of soda in his hand. A beat of silence followed, simply staring at each other, before you took an earbud out and turned back, stirring the pot of sauce. 

“Need something?” 

“I was asking you if you ate lunch but you didn’t hear me.” Wonwoo shuffled over to your side, peering into the pot just before you placed the lid on. “So I texted Jihoon to pick up burgers in town since he should be home in half an hour.” 

“I have to stay up here for when the-” 

“Oh, I already moved the console up here.” He motioned over his shoulder towards the living room, the TV on and controllers set on the coffee table. 

You scoffed, laughing as you set a time on your phone and taking your other earbud out. “Unbelievable.” 

Wonwoo only shrugged, grabbing two more sodas and a bag of chips from the cupboard, making his way over to the couch. You weren’t far behind, flopping down beside him, not even caring that you were still in your work clothes despite cooking in them earlier. He was already setting up the game, It Takes Two, seeing as you never finished it last time. 

“Are we having a heart to heart while playing?” The teasing lilt to his tone had you tucking your legs up to your chest and pouting. 

“Would you be mad if I said yes?” 

Wonwoo snorted, a grin spreading on his lips. “Not mad, but I can’t promise I won’t patronize you.” 

Once the game started back where the two of you originally left off, you were talking. Wonwoo was helpful even if he was making fun of you throughout the entire conversation. Even when you got up to get the tray from the oven and put the meatballs in the sauce to continue cooking on low, you didn’t stop, but neither did Wonwoo when he asked questions. 

With how engrossed the two of you were in the game and talking, both of you nearly missed Jihoon coming in before the bags of food were tossed on the counter and he landed himself on your other side. Then Jihoon had to ask what the conversation was and that ended up with him being dragged in, all of you moving to the floor to eat on the coffee table. Jeonghan apparently had come clean about everything when Wonwoo supposedly called him out on it. 

Jihoon’s opinion surprised you, he was of the mindset that you try out the situationship between Jeonghan, Joshua, and yourself. He went on a tangent about how he agrees that Jeonghan was – and you quote – a fucking moron , and that you should most definitely give him a piece of your mind for his audacity. Wonwoo made a joke about Jihoon being the true woman protector , saying Mingyu and Seokmin were nothing compared to the rage that Jihoon can show sometimes. 

“All I’m saying, Mouse, if I were you, I’d use whatever skills you have in fighting and just,” Jihoon swung a right hook in the air, a pout to his lips as he spoke, “And hit him for showing disrespect the way he did.” 

“Both of you and Seungcheol are bad influences, he also told me to kick his ass.” Laughing, you covered your mouth with a hand, swallowing the food in your mouth. “Minnie has been bringing me coffee and pastries every morning because I was mad at him too.” 

“Wait-” Jihoon raised a brow, leveling you with a confused glance. “You told Seungcheol about this?” 

“Okay well- Not everything , but the night it all happened he came back to the penthouse and I locked myself in the office to think.” 

“No wonder he has been in a mood all week. He has been giving Jeonghan hell all week but won’t say why and Jeonghan said he didn’t tell him. None of us did.” 

Frowning, you gave a shrug of your shoulders. “Eh, I wouldn’t place it on the situation. Cheol couldn’t care less about my relationship issues with dumb and dumber.”

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[i4bellingham]

THE PERFECT CUDDLE BUDDY : jamal musiala x reader

in which something as mundane and as simple as waking up entangled in each other's arms can either boost to start one’s day or be a reason to laze around, your boyfriend uses it for the latter.

posting short pieces for now because of writer’s block, i don't like this situation at all 🤧 anyways i’m finishing a request for jude so it will probably be up by tmrw or the next day idk i’m not really sure but it will be posted for sure!

Jamal knows he should be getting up.

It's already past 6 am and the day is not going to wait for him to leave the bed, pause the time itself so he can prepare his stuff for another day of grueling training (which in his defense he actually enjoys).

But really? How could he even leave the comfort of his soft bed when he's got the most perfect cuddle buddy wrapped around his arms like a missing puzzle to solve the enigma that is his life?

You're there, all secured and warmed up in his arms as he nudges his cold feet in between yours underneath the duvet. He knows you'll probably notice the coolness of his skin soon enough and will most likely chide him for bugging you out of your sleep because of that but really, he wants you awake just as much as he is even though he doesn't straight up wake you up.

“Your feet’s cold J.” You mumble sleepily before kicking his feet away, making Jamal chuckle from your attempt of keeping him from your warmth when he plops an entire leg over your waist.

He rubs the back of your head to make up for his early shenanigans, trailing soft kisses on the crown of your head before you're burying your face against his chest.

“Don’t you have training today?” You ask him, patting his thigh that was over your hip. “You’ll be late if you don’t move now.”

“Nah... think I’ll be fine being late just for today.” He replies, reaching over the bedside table to his right to take his phone. “Or should I just skip training today? Tell the team I got cold or somethin’?”

“And for what reason would you pull this lie?”

He taps on his phone for a few moments before he's chucking the device back on the bedside table, shooting you a mischievous smile before tackling you in a hug that had you squealing.

“No- Jamal! I swear to God I’ll kick your ass if you don’t get off me right now!”

Jamal pushes his luck by completely letting his arms and legs go for support, letting his weight fall down on you as he snuggles against your chest comfortably.

“But you're soft, and warm and I’m tired baby... just let me recharge real quick yeah?” You boop his nose, rolling your eyes but saying nothing else except letting him lay on top of you like a sack of potatoesㅡ a fine sack of potatoes.

“But seriously though, are you heading over to training?”

Jamal nods his head. “Yes but I texted the team, told them I’ll be late because someone caught a cold...” He ends his sentence with a cheeky smile, grinning wider when he notice that you're contemplating who on Earth caught a cold.

He thinks it's cute the way your eyes visibly widens as the realization dawns on you about what he did, slapping his back playfully for a good measure before you're lovingly chiding the life out of him.

“No way you lied to your team! I did not caught the cold did I? Why would you lie love seriously?” You huff.

“But I want to spend some time with you... such a good day outside, bright and beautiful don’t you think?” He points at the windows, watching the sun rise above the horizon in all it's sunny glory.

You gently flick on his forehead, rubbing on his skin when he whines about your flick being too painful (even though you both know it's really not and he's just whining for some extra affection), you cuddle him close to you still.

“Or you could have just asked the team for a day off like a normal person would?”

“And have Phonzy blowing up my phone?” He asks with a shake of his head. “No thank you, I’d rather do this instead.”

“But you'll attend training later on the day, won’t you love?”

A soft smile blossoms in Jamal’s lips, most likely done by the familiar pet name you normally call him on a daily basis as he nods his head in affirmation.

“Yes Ma'am.” He nuzzles his face back on your chest as you wrap an arm on his back, rubbing your palm over his shirt up and down. “I’ll leave when the clock hits 9:30 yeah? Just let me lay down here with you... You're so warm and soft how is this possible...”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I’M HERE FOR THE TEA please can we see Mama Rosehearts seeing Trey again?? You know the boy she probably blames for leading her son astray with SUGAR 😆 maybe throw in the Clover siblings or Clover parents too? Only if you want to though!

Scalding hot tea to go with those banned strawberry tarts... 👀 (Not gonna lie though, it's so funny to me that Mrs. Rosehearts may see Trey, one of THE most normal and mild-mannered dudes in the main TWST cast, as some kind of twisted degenerate that peddles an addictive white powder to her child 🤡)

While writing this, I kept thinking of the passive aggressive dinner scene in Shrek 2 (that eventually turned into a full-blown food fight) 😅 Trey can be Shrek since he's green and Mrs. Rosehearts can be Fiona's dad since they're both protective parents-- (I decided to keep it to Trey, Riddle, and Mrs. Rosehearts! The rest of the Clover family would be a lot of people to account for in one interactions.)

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

Trey was used to cutting cakes, not cutting tension. The vice dorm leader job description had said nothing about the latter—yet here he was, newly saddled with the responsibility.

To his right was Riddle, forcing himself to maintain impeccable posture for afternoon tea. Back straight, head up, eyes forward, as he wove a teaspoon through a cup of warm liquid. Normally, he would slightly sweeten his tea with honey—but he went without it today, only stirring on reflex.

A ha-RUMPH! sounded as Riddle set the teaspoon down on his saucer. Their guest was disapproving, as Trey had expected. He gathered his strength and muttered a silent prayer to the Great Seven.

"Tea?" Trey offered the woman to his right, teapot at the ready.

Mrs. Rosehearts tapped a dagger-like nail against her arm. She had painted them a deep crimson, the exact shade of the red velvet cakes Patisserie Clover whipped up—though with the scathing expression she wore, Trey figured the last thing she wanted to hear about was baked goods. The woman looked like she was out for his blood, rich and oh-so-red.

"Okaaay, no tea then." Trey carefully returned the teapot to its spot and reached for a plate of the least sweet item avaliable. "How about a finger sandwich? We've got all different kinds of fillings, so just pick the one you like."

Mrs. Rosehearts didn't so much as pass the poor sandwiches a glance out of pity.

"Alright, I guess that's also a negatory?"

Her icy eyes bore into Trey, silently judging him. The tension thickened, turning heftier than a filling pea soup (though he doubted she was in the mood for any food at this point).

A hand reached over and plucked a sandwich from the top of the pile, staving off some rigidity in the air.

"Thank you, Trey." Riddle offered a small smile.

"You're very welcome. Don't eat it all up in one bite now. Remember to save some for everyone else," Trey joked light-heartedly. "You've got a smoked salmon on whole wheat there. I tossed the fish in lemon juice, salt, and pepper, then mixed it with a little cream cheese, dill, and minced onion."

"Is that right? It sounds delicious and healthy," Riddle said carefully, emphasizing the final word. He delicately nibbled at the crusts--still left on--while eyeing the contents of his teacup.

The table settled back into a stiff silence. Riddle staring at his drink, his mother staring at Trey, and Trey staring at the wall behind her. If he made eye contact, would she explode?

Trey rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. His hand came away damp with perspiration. He dared to say what was on everyone's mind.

"Well, uh... This is awkward."

There was an audibly sharp intake of breath. Riddle, paralyzed. His thumb pressed down hard on his sandwich, puncturing a hole in the bread.

"You're the eldest son of the bakers," Mrs. Rosehearts declared, her first utterance as prickly as thorns. "The boy who led my Riddle astray with sugar."

She makes it sound like I was peddling something way worse than what it actually was! It was only a slice of strawberry tart...

Trey bit back his protests and tried at a smile. He and Riddle had spent hours reviewing and rehearsing their game plan for this dreaded moment. "Don't challenge her, don't instigate," his dorm leader had instructed him. "Be agreeable. Lie if you must. Whatever it takes for us to come out of this encounter unscathed."

His had confidence wavered, worry in his big eyes. A flash of fear, and Trey saw the sad little child from years before, the fat tears that had been dribbling down Riddle’s contorted face. Sobbing, apologizing, pleading.

He had tipped his head and nodded. A mere card soldier obeying his queen. The line he parroted so often was spoken once more: “Yes, dorm leader.”

Trey reached within himself for the best he could manage. "It's nice to see you again, ma'am."

"If only I could say the same!!" Mrs. Rosehearts huffed dismissively. She then snapped, quick as a whip, to Riddle, who flinched. "It’s no wonder why you came home in such a sorry state for the holidays! I suspected it for a while now, but this confirms it. You’ve been reintroduced to bad influences at school."

“That’s not exactly…” Riddle trailed off, his voice weak. His mother continued to rant, undaunted.

“NRC has its fair share of students that cause trouble,” Trey confessed, tactfully cutting in. “Still, that’s to be expected of teenage boys."

“My Riddle rarely ever behaves in such a disrespectful manner,” Mrs. Rosehearts retorted. Rarely stung like a slap to the face. “Were it not for poor choices in friendship, he would never act out.

“Why a prestigious learning institution like Night Raven College would allow such riffraff in, I’ll never understand! They only ruin it for the others. It only takes one bad seed to spoil the whole bunch.”

She didn't name names, but it was clear who she was talking about from where she directed her intense gaze.

“I don’t know about spoiled apples, but bruised ones can still be used,” Trey pointed out, eager to divert the heated topic. “They don’t look the best, but they still taste fine. Bruised apples work for lots of recipes. Salads, sauces, ciders, jams..."

The smoked salmon sandwich slipped, falling into Riddle’s untouched tea. His eyes widened. Then Trey’s slowly followed. Both of them caught the misstep, their times staggered.

The scowl on Mrs. Rosehearts deepened, her crimson lips forming an almost bloody line. “You would just love to stuff my son with more of that sugary poison, wouldn’t you? Just like you’ve filled his head with your poisonous thoughts!!”

“What? No, I wouldn’t… I haven’t—” He instinctively pivoted to providing a defense, something to placate her.

It was an ill-advised mistake.

"Young man!!" Face red, she rose from her seat, slamming both hands on the table. The fine china and silverware clattered violently. "First you feed him that horrible junk food, then you've graduated to feeding him all these untruths!! You've done quite enough damage to my son."

He had one foot in the rabbit hole now, the situation spiraling into chaos. Trey braced himself against the verbal barrage, wincing as her volume climbed higher and higher, her features distorting from rage.

A part of him wanted to cry out. To argue, to shout. But fear clawed at his throat, seizing his tongue.

"Look where hanging around you has gotten him! He comes home over the winter break spouting nonsense—nonsense he no doubt picked up from you. I thought I had done all I could to rid us of the pests buzzing around him, but clearly even those efforts haven't been enough!"

"M-Mother, please... I can explain!" Riddle insisted, jumping up. His teacup wobbled, threatening to topple over and stain the table and rug. "I implore you, don't blame Trey--"

"A mother knows what's best for her child! I'll be speaking to the headmaster about this, and there WILL be some changes around here!"

Riddle recoiled, defeated. He balled his hands into fists on his lap—to stop them from shaking.

It's happening, Trey realized. Again, it's happening...

The edges of his vision blurring, his throat closing up. A distant memory of his parents profusely apologizing to a screaming woman. Riddle huddled behind her, in tears, tugging, begging to be heard. Him, standing frozen, unable to act.

"Riddle..." Trey made to place a hand on his shoulder to reassure him, but a protective arm blocked his path. He met the livid face of Mrs. Rosehearts.

"Don't you touch a hair on my son's head.”

His hand jerked back but refused to fall limp to his side. He frowned slightly, brows furrowing in hesitation.

But he pushed himself forward and tumbled deeper down the rabbit hole.

"With all due respect, ma'am," Trey said very evenly, "I get wanting to support and protect him, I really do. That's part of my job as his vice dorm leader—but Riddle doesn’t need it all the time. He’s not the fragile flower you seem to think he is.”

He was the thorns that warded off enemies. He was the stalk, morally upright and willful. He was the roots that burrowed deep and anchored the group.

He was anything but a rose.

“Frankly, I think you sorely underestimate how strong Riddle really is,” Trey continued. He must be, if he has the courage to speak up for me when I couldn’t do the same for him. “I don’t mean just in magic either. He has the will of a queen too.”

Mrs. Rosehearts drew back, positively appalled. Her nostrils flared. "And just what are you insinuating?!"

Shock replaced the delicate discomfort on Riddle’s face. “Trey, you…”

“Ahahah… Sorry, Riddle.” He passed his friend a faint smile. “I guess I couldn’t help but meddle this time. I broke my promise to you. My bad.”

“No, don’t be.” His response was quiet, like the trace of a whisper on a breeze.

“I understand now. It’s not the school that needs changing, but you,” Mrs. Rosehearts snarled, jabbing an accusatory finger at Trey. “I’ll have you expelled from this school!! You won’t ever be put in a position where you can sink your venomous fangs into my…"

"Stop, mother...!!"

"Riddle?" Mrs. Rosehearts looked expectantly at her son. She had stiffened, the fire in her eyes now petrified to stone.

He hesitated under her gaze.

"... Hey. It's okay. You've got this," came a soft voice from beside him. From Riddle's right, his right-hand man. "No one else can speak for you but yourself."

Riddle swallowed. He tried to maintain his cool, but his words came out shaky.

"Mother, I..." He stopped and started again. "You may see Trey as a villain, someone who leads children astray from the good and morally righteous path with a house of sweets. But that's not what he is.”

Riddle remembered the scene well.

In a garden of rose hedges… Collars turned into fluttering playing cards. Then the pitch black had consumed him. A light he had reached for. The hand that had reached back. Someone calling out to him, panicked.

That person was…

"At my darkest moment, Trey was there to stop me from sinking lower than I already had. When I sought a hand in the void, it was he who reached back for me. His hand is what pulled me up when I was down.

“For that, I will always be grateful, no matter what you may think of him. He is worthy of standing by my side as Heartslabyul’s vice dorm leader. That is my decision—a decision acknowledged by all.”

His mother bristled. "You would side with this… this boy over me? Your mother? Your family?"

“I’m suggesting that raising a complaint to the headmaster wouldn’t change the circumstances. He, too, is aware of Trey’s merits as my second-in-command and would wish for him to stay.”

Riddle shared a small, knowing smile with his friend. Indeed, Crowley had been present for the debacle—and indeed, he would promote their support of one another. To save face and reputation. (“Wh-What nonsense is this!! Of course my students are well-mannered and cooperative! What would make you think anything less of them?!”)

“Clever,” Trey mouthed.

“Well, I never!!” Mrs. Rosehearts huffed, abruptly rising from her seat. “The depths of depravity know no bounds!! To think you’ve magically convinced the entire school that you’re good…!!l

“I’ll do my best to show you my good points too, ma’am,” Trey replied. He couldn’t stop a smirk from making its way onto his lips. “After all, everyone at NRC’s like a diamond in the rough. All they need’s their time to shine.“

At this, Riddle coughed into a fist to conceal choked laughter. “… Yes, one could say such a thing. Rest assured, mother; I’m in good hands. There is no learning institution more fit for me than here.”

At our Night Raven College.

[silent-words]

My favourite magic nerds (Gale Dekarios and Dorian Pavus)

Alright, I'll squeeze some DA obsession here by comparing two characters, one from BG3 and one from DA: Inquisition. Not only do I want to get back to Gale (my beloved), but also draw some attention to the least romanced character in Dragon Age: Inquisition (Dorian Pavus), who is, of course, unfairly neglected.

Appearance

First and foremost – stunning looks. They're both handsome in my very biased and totally subjective opinion. Just look at them and try to tell me they're not gorgeous.

Immaculate facial hair. I actually have screenshots of the underside of Gale's beard, it is as neat as Dorian's moustache.

They're both Mediterranean-coded tanned dark-haired men. Which is supported by Gale's Greek-sounding surname and Dorian's homeland being the analogy of the Roman Empire.

Profession

Both are wizards/mages, very skilled mages, who know what they are doing with their power.

Both are very talented mages, either by luck, or because of Tevinter mage breeding programme (how else would we call it?).

Both love magic, both are proud of their magic knowledge and fascinated by all things magical. If in both games you face some unknown magic, these companions will go 🤩

Dorian literally lives in a library in Acts 2 and 3 of DA:I. Gale makes a library out of his tent.

They both want to push the boundaries of magical knowledge (Gale does it in his confrontation with Mystra, Dorian in his timey-wimey magic).

To sum up, they're both magic nerds (and I love them for it).

Personality

Both are witty and make a lot of jokes. Dorian is more sarcastic, of course, while Gale is more subtle.

They do not lie to the main character and do not approve of lying.

They do not disapprove when you try to help NPCs.

Both are show-offs, especially when they can demonstrate their magical prowess.

They pay a lot of attention to their looks and want to look dashing. Dorian's make-up and Gale's earring make it even more pronounced.

Both are accustomed to the comforts of civilisation and feel uncomfortable in the wilderness.

They love their city/country of origin, although they know the downsides. With Dorian the very country of origin is a complicated issue, but the homesickness is the same as what we see with Gale (do you remember "I wish I could go home" from the House of Hope?).

Arrogance can be sexy, and those two are the embodiment of this phrase.

Trauma (but that's part of the definition of a companion in these games, so we go on to the next point)

Self-destructive tendencies. With Gale more than with Dorian, but the latter's addiction (referenced in the game) still counts.

Highly emotional and sometimes lashing out on the main character.

Romance

They like sex, but that's not what they actually want from the romance.

They fall in love not for the appearance (we just need to make adjustments for the DA:I weird romance system).

They do not betray the trust of the main character.

Both are not straight characters ;-)

Of course, there are many differences between the characters, but I just wanted to draw some parallels and to show you my pokemons wizards.

P. S. if you want to romance Dorian, you'll need to create a male main character (remember what I said about the weird romance system? it doesn't make sense not only after BG3, but also after DA2).

[demonicbaby666]

Ignorance is Bliss

One Shot | Once Upon a Time Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Pairing: Regina Mills x Gn!Reader

Genre: Angst no comfort

Words: 1.3k+

Summary: You remember the wee little lass from season 1 who gets his heart crushed? Yes, Graham. He doesn’t actually exist in this, but you do... After a brief kiss with Emma it seems the truth has come to light and now you have to make a decision as to whether you want to confront it, or run away from it.

A/n: Don't worry, I hate myself for this one too </3

In the crescent moon’s light, faces seem distorted, shrouded in sullen tones. Dark figures cast their jaded shadows upon concrete roads and littered sidewalks as they stalked toward their destinations. Houses, apartments, or perhaps even a small diner treasured amongst the townsfolk. For you, your destination remained hidden, a secret, feet carrying you through the dimly lit streets to a familiar patch of land.

The wind whispered the lost tales of those who had their names etched on stone. Some old, some young, and some unable to talk over the endless possibilities they’d never been acquainted with, taken straight from the world before they were able to see the light, and dark, held within it. 

Stood in the distance was the mausoleum. Ivy crept along its sidewalls, the red door just bright enough to stand out in the dark and guide you in the direction you needed to go. 

Going off your rough estimations you had around ten minutes to find what you needed before Regina would discover you. Thankfully, without the use of magic, she’d have to drive over to the vault, giving you enough time to try and locate either a memory potion or the ingredients needed for one, though the latter required the fine skills of your long-term memory, which you were still trying to grasp. 

The vault was fairly organised, it was Regina after all, making it somewhat easy to locate the collection of neatly labeled potions. There had to be at least ten boxes, which meant dilly-dallying wasn’t an option. Immediately you sorted through the boxes, willing your eyes to read faster than they’d ever done so before. 

Six boxes down and five minutes in, door hinges creaked and bounced off the walls until they traveled down to the vault. She was early. There was only one exit, and that was the one Regina was coming through, which made the possibility of escaping this upcoming encounter impossible. 

All that was left to do was watch as Regina slowly became visible from the stairs of the crypt. Feet, legs, torso, then there she was. Her sculpted eyebrows knit together, curiosity becoming clearer and clearer with each step toward you, “What are you doing here?”

Looking her dead in the eyes, you made sure not to cower away from the truth, or from the powerful aura she exuded in anything and everything she did, “I remember. I remember everything. Us.” 

“How?” Behind her stony eyes you caught the flicker of panic, whether it was because she feared the curse over the town had been broken or whether she’d have to face the ramifications of withholding the truth from you, you didn’t know. 

“Emma.” 

“That doesn’t explain how you remember.” She frustratingly pointed out. 

There was undoubtedly some truth to her statement. The single name of her nemesis didn’t exactly provide a detailed outlook on the events that led up to you regaining your memories. Then again, you didn’t want her to know the truth. You also didn’t want to lie. Staying silent it was. 

Her nostrils flared, jaw clenched and eyes scorched. With one step forward and her targets set on you, she pushed for more information she deemed rightfully hers, “How?”

It was on command, with the tone she’d used you were right back in the enchanted Forest, heeding any and every one of her wishes, “Emma kissed me.” You blurted out.

“What?” Her eyes widened. 

“Don’t make me repeat it.” You sighed, dropping to sit on a closed trunk. 

“That means...” Regina whispered, “She’s your…”

“She’s the savior, that’s all it means.” You snapped. Regret set in the second you saw Regina flinch at your harsh tone, despite it being warranted. In truth, you already wanted out of this situation, but answers wouldn’t be found in running away, they’d only be located in the trenches of one woman’s mind. What was fairly annoying was the woman in question tended to keep such answers hidden behind a makeshift wall of lies and barbed wire, “I answered your question, now answer mine. Why did you take them, my memories?” 

“Judging by the fact you want them gone again, do I need to answer that?” 

Avoiding the question. Not a surprise. 

“I never had a choice in the first place. Do you know what it’s like realising your whole life is a fucking lie? Because I do and I can’t say shit to anyone without risking getting thrown into the psych ward. You took them from me, Regina. I should be given the option to keep them or get rid of them. So yes, I want to know what led you to believe you had any right to take what was rightfully mine.”

Quiet. The vault echoed the sounds of your heavy breathing as Regina began to search her mind for answers to questions she never thought she’d have to face. Her facade began to crumble before your very eyes, shoulders slumped, her face softened and her tear-filled eyes helplessly sought out comfort in yours. Humility was fighting to be seen once more, much like it had in the past, in moments where she felt everyone only saw the bad, the evil, in actions that were simply enacted to protect herself. 

“I was scared.” Her voice was small, barely a whisper. 

“Of what?” 

A single tear fell from her eye, working its way down her cheek and salting her plump lips, “That you wouldn’t pick me.” 

There, at that moment, she had shown vulnerability, something so raw and rare for a damaged soul prone to heartache and loss. Exposing herself to the tyranny of lies uncovered, to the pain that accompanies the idea that love may be unrequited, and to the reality that she had in fact stolen the essence of what could have been, meant opening herself up to the possibility she had truly lost you. 

And she had. 

“You took that option away from me when you decided to take my memories.”

If it was possible to hear a heart break, feel the sting of broken fragments shatter beneath your touch, you’d have heard and felt it. A rugged exterior did nothing to lessen the pain befalling every inch of your soul. You’d done it, looking into her tear-stained sullen eyes, you saw, you’d broken her dark heart.

Needing to look anywhere but at Regina, you let your eyes roam around the vault. Glinting in the candlelight was a small bottle, the words on it barely readable, but you saw them well enough to plan your next move. 

Standing up, you moved towards the vials you had previously been sifting through, “I have to forget you. I have to forget who I was, and what I did.” you muttered, back now facing Regina. 

“Feel everything you need to feel, regret, anger, sadness, everything. But not alone, feel it with me,” Regina reached out, wrapping her fingers around your wrist, “I just got you back. I can’t lose you again.” 

As you turned around, you clung tightly to the bottle in your hand. You didn’t stop yourself, nor Regina when her lips found yours. Instead, you let yourself remember, only for mere seconds, what it felt like to have her tongue trace along your bottom lip, how her body felt pressed against your own, what it was to give yourself over wholly and exclusively to one person. 

Yet, it still wasn’t enough. It never would be. Not when you’d known a guilt-free life, not when you’d gone days, months, and years living without the weight of your past mistakes heavy on your conscience. 

“I was never yours to lose,” you whispered against her lips, delivering the final punch.

The bottle cork dropped to the ground. With one step back you brought the vial to your lips, swallowing its contents whole and watching a familiar face - a person you believed to be the embodiment of home - fade once again into nothing more than an acquaintance.

Ignorance truly is bliss.

Tags: @babygirlscout @7thavenger @five-bi-five-mind @mentally-unstable-gay | click here to be added to my tag list

[katatonicimpression]

Has Exodus been Redeemed?

So, I saw someone posting about this the other day, and they made two really good points. Summarised here:

Bennet being redeemed because of Krakoa is weird and bad.

Any redemption Bennet gets should involve children because of that thing when he kinda maybe sorta tried to kill Luna

And yes these are both good points but also... are we supposed to think of current bennet as redeemed at all?

Some thoughts on all the above:

Is Bennet actually doing anything different now than he was in Messiah Complex?

I mean, no. Right?

When it comes down to it, Bennet's moral failings are quite straight forward. He doesn't care who he hurts, who he kills, so long as he conceptualises it as a step towards securing the salvation of mutantkind. He is myopic, narrowly focused on whatever he's decided his goal is, and his thought process is (sorry babe) irrational. He is not stable. He's not able to recognise that instability. Neither is he able to recognise his own hypocrisy when it arises. His worldview warps to make sense with whatever he's decided he needs to do. And, when all is said and done, he'll say it was God's plan.

So, he's like any old cult leader or anti vax podcaster, really. He pedals dangerous nonsense and has the just the right combination of personality flaws and mental illness to still be a true believer and a moral crusader.

Or he's like, you know, a crusader.

In Messiah Complex - an almost incoherent sprawling mess of a crossover event from 2007 - Bennet is distraught and struggling after M Day and ends up taking his Acolytes to meet Mr Sinister because he has come to believe that the only solutions lie in mad scientism or something. Bennet gets on his knees for him (literally) and then he and his Acolytes team up with the Marauders to fight the xmen because something something Destiny's diaries something something baby something something ice-stique something something. Bennet straight up vanishes from the story before it concludes. Idk maybe he went out for lunch.

Anyway, I bring it up as an example of a time where Bennet is looking for direction is his Holy War, joins forces with other mutants/mutates, and tolerates an uneasy alliance because he is 100% devoted to the mission.

Psychologically speaking, is bennet really behaving any differently in the krakoa era? Is he making different kinds of decisions? I don't think so.

In fact, Krakoa challenges his character less than Messiah complex. Which is weird, because in the latter he's straightforwardly a villain. Krakoa era Exodus is not a villain, not even an antagonist.

(I guess he's Sinister's casual antagonist in Hellions, but a) that's a comedic role and b) Nathaniel is the villain of hellions so that wouldn't even count)

He's not a heroic character either. He's just kind of an entity. Protagonist of one issue of Immortal X-Men and primarily featured as an interesting member of the supporting cast.

Krakoa offers Bennet a course of action where he is able to do what he always does (throw himself wholeheartedly at a mutant supremacist project while thinking of himself as the good guy in all of this). He is a defender of Krakoa and an ally to their cause.

So, this is not an arc. Categorically, it is not a character arc of any kind because he does not change. So, in that sense it's not a redemption arc either. But of course he is a character who has gone from villain to "guy who's on the side you're rooting for"

I think it's not wrong, then, to argue that what we're seeing from Fall of X era Exodus is the presentation of an unearned redemption. He's good/better now, but no actual story arc is there to back it up. He's not grown or changed or learnt anything. He's not been challenged. There is nothing in the text to suggest that he would now see non mutant lives as valuable, worth sparing.

So... is this bad writing?

He has not changed or learnt anything, are we supposed to believe otherwise?

The Krakoa era contains many in-story critiques of the nation it depicts, and to mixed results. Interestingly, Bennet is not heavily featured in this regard. Throwaway comments about him being scary or insane are tossed around, but he is not meaningfully involved in a story that questions the ideology of Krakoa - or of his ideology specifically.

It's hard to tell, then, what we're looking at. Let's roughly divide it into two possibilities:

Bennet is being portrayed as nicer, somewhat redeemed, and the mission of Krakoa is understood to be a virtuous endeavour.

Krakoa is understood to be a morally flawed endeavour, and Bennet is just being his same old self and not redeemed at all.

2 seems closer to what Gillen is doing in my opinion, but I think there's room for debate.

It's not like immortal xmen is really about the moral implications in the flaws of Krakoa. It's much more focused on the psychology of the characters on the Quiet Council and their interpersonal conflict and intrigue.

But, of course, explosions go boom.

Despite the intimate themes of immortal xmen (and its adjacent minis and oneshots), its overarching plot threads primarily involve krakoa being threatened with annihilation (inferno, judgement day, dominion crap, miscellaneous orchis crap, etc). Because of this, bennet is primarily featured as a defender of the people of Krakoa when they are under attack. This absolutely does lend itself to interpretation 1, wherein Exodus' zealotry is position's as a (complicated) good in the necessary and just cause of Krakoa.

To me, it feels like gillen is telling a story featuring characters who are predominantly morally grey or outright villainous, and using a setting and plot backdrop that forces them into the same or similar boat, allowing the writing to explore their intricacies. If the setting and plot were too normal - if it were one where the heroes would refuse to work with the villains or one where the villains were constantly being antagonists - many of those more interesting character beats would be cut off.

However, I don't think he has fully succeeded in this regard. The overarching thread of the innocents of krakoa being in mortal danger and needing protection is one that has moral implications. It does end up framing Bennet heroically, even when the on-page material does keep reminding you that he's, you know, a deranged zealot.

There's more that can be said about how the fact that Krakoa is constantly under threat of total extinction undermines any attempt at nuance in its portrayal, and how it contributes to the greatest failings of this era. But I do plan to write that retrospective soon so I'll save it for later.

For now, I'll say that to me it feels like the intent was not to tell a story of redemption arcs at all. Instead, morality was not the focus and the storytelling deliberately steers away from the pedagogical. However, despite this intent, the shape of a redemption story remains, simply due to the nature of Bennets role in Krakoa.

Won't somebody please think of the children?

The one way in which we arguably do see change in Bennet is with The Children.

Bennet is shown telling stories to the children of Krakoa, teaching them and, also, protecting them. His interactions with Kafka in X-Men Forever are a good example of this.

The thing with Luna (he takes her from Fabian who was, unsurprisingly, responsible for all this mess) is a pretty bleak moment in Bennet's history. It also I believe leads to him being stabbed by Dane which I can't imagine him enjoying.

Bennets canon history is actually kind of weird. He's one of those characters with a lot of "idek how he got out of that but he turned up later on so he must have" in his wiki. The krakoa era is probably the most prolonged, stable period of his existence where the audience has had a strong sense of where he's at and what he's doing for the last five years.

Similarly, in universe the krakoa era could well be the first time Bennet's life has been anything close to normal for a long time. He has a home that isn't a supervillain lair, and actual down time for the first time since Mags woke him up. He is walking around in public and kinda sorta socialising for possibly the first time in his entire life.

He has that line about how he's old and wise, and that other line about how he's not naive (a repeat - he says it in the 90s and in krakoa) and both of those things are lies. Because he's, you know, a delusional cult leader. He is not literally old. He was a young man (which in medieval terms could literally mean still in his teens) when he went into that coma. And it's been 30 years real time since he woke up. But no characters who were adults then have aged in that time (and some (emma) have got younger) so whatever it is in universe it's not more than a few years. He's still in his 20s in my interpretation. Moreover, his life experience is extreme social isolation and a series of fanatical violent cults. He is naive. He's not wise.

He's also not really had a chance to just be and coexist with other people. So, in that sense it's not weird to see him be kind to children in Krakoa. Nothing we've seen technically contradicts the idea that he would be. Willingness to threaten a child in one situation and the ability to genuinely care for children aren't actually contradictory. But emotionally, there is resonance to showing this softness to him in this regard.

So, this is the one area where you could say there has been a meaningful change to Bennet, but again it has no narrative arc to it. Beyond simply the implication that if you let this guy chill for a minute, he eventually does mellow a bit.

But it is nice. And it is fitting.

Static characters and hypocrisy

Bennet is a character who fundamentally is incapable of seeing himself as being in the wrong. This is baked right into the type of villain that he is.

Redemption arcs can come in a lot of different forms. Sometimes the fictional universe has concrete concepts of good and evil, and a redemption is about aligning yourself spiritually with the good side (e.g. star wars) or by fulfilling some abstract metaphysical requirement (e.g. Buffy). Sometimes the emphasis is on doing the work to improve yourself (e.g. zuko), and sometimes it's a grand gesture at the right moment. Sometimes it's because a bigger bad came along, sometimes the redeemed one suffers a lot, sometimes they don't.

There's also the fun cartooney type of redemption arc where the bad guy is forced to just kinda hang out with the heroes and becomes part of the team by osmosis. Tgis is a personal fave but I don't think it suits Bennet - he should have an actual arc if it happens at all.

So, if there's an actual arc, it could vary a lot but one thing it requires is introspection and for the character's flaws to actually be confronted in the text.

Now, is it possible to write something like that for Bennet? Yes.

There are limitations, as with any character. He wouldn't suit an arc than evokes a grandiose good/evil darkside/lightside dichotomy because part of his problem is that he already thinks like that. Similarly, you would have to be careful when introducing a character foil (someone to be azula to his zuko for example) because he is not self aware enough to recognise his own flaws in the other. In general, he's someone who can very easily externalise any moral lesson he learns. It's doable, but difficult.

The example I want to evoke is Isaac from Netflix Castlevania. Isaac's storyline in s3 is basically him just travelling from A to B, and on the way he encounters these little vignettes. Some affirm his world view in s2 (aka "humanity sucks might as well help Dracula kill everyone") and some gently challenge it (e.g. "you should consider having friends") and he talks about it. He does philosophy. He reasons through his positions. And, eventually he starts to change. By the time he confronts Hector in s4, he's no longer here for revenge. He's moved on. He's now acting according to what he thinks will make things better.

I love this. I love that it's completely internal as an arc and I love how much agency isaac has. And I love that the dialogue is genuinely clever. Most philosophy dialogue in pop culture is written to just sound deep, but in castlevania they really managed to maintain meaning and coherence throughout.

And obviously the shape of Bennets arc would be different to this, but the idea of a well crafted "man does philosophy, sees the abstract concepts illustrated in narrative vignettes as he does so, and then eventually changes for the better". And a good writer could do this for him.

But should they?

So, this is that lingering thing. You redeem a villain in a comic book and now you've lost that villain. You let Exodus meaningfully improve and then he's no longer available to churn out as a big or medium bad. Maybe you might want to keep Bennet's delightful combination of flaws because it allows you to explore them. Maybe a redeemed Bennet isn't really Bennet anymore, or doesn't have what you want from him as a character. You make the unselfaware villain introspect then what are you left with?

A happier character, sure. But maybe not a good ingredient for a story.

And with bennet, the kind of introspection and self confrontation needed for a redemption arc would change him a lot. It would change him at his very foundation.

Does that mean he's doomed to be a static character? Not necessarily. I think it would be possible to bring shape to his storylines without shaking those foundations, but it is limiting. And also, they don't focus on him enough to do it.

Conclusion

The title of this section is a such a joke because I have nothing conclusive to say. I feel like if you read this far, you've been tricked.

I think Exodus makes for an interesting villain, and (imho) is actually best suited to be posed as not the only/main villain in a story. A supporting antagonist, if you will.

But that doesn't mean seeing him in a protagonist role isn't welcome. I loved it the one time it happened. And as for uncomplicated heroics? No, he's not there yet. And if he got there, it would involve a pretty hefty change to his character.

But it's not like I would be mad if it happens. We don't need a crusader villain (especially as I personally don't think Bennet's zealotry is well suited to paralleling modern religious extremism - at least not the mainstream stuff) and hell, I want to see what a fully sympathetic write of him would look like. Maybe he'd get to talk to Dane again. That could be fun.

But it doesn't look like that's going to happen. He'll probably continue to hover in this "villainous ally" space for the foreseeable future. He's in heir of apocalypse. I doubt he'll get a lot to do.

Anyway. Thanks guys if you made it this far. Hope you have a nice day. I'm currently spending billable hours sitting in a stairwell writing essays about comics. What a time we live in.