#the evil polycule ever

[birdb1tch]

thinking about how in freshman year coach daybreak quite literally tried to kill kristen to bring the apocalypse (AMONG MANY OTHER THINGS) and upon being told this her own parents turned their back on kristen and said (paraphrasing), “thats not true and you cant prove that.”

thinking about junior year where kristen’s parents SAY shes always welcome to come back anytime and in an effort to keep the peace she says “thank you, thats very kind” HER OWN PARENTS!! ITS NOT KIND, ITS THE BARE MINIMUM! but mac and donna will never see it that way, because to them they didnt fail kristen, she failed them.

ALSO thinking about adaine’s parents who so obviously had no real love for adaine until she had use as elven oracle. and even then it wasnt love, it was a power grab. parents who start a war and leave without you. parents who only cared about power to the extent that they would be angered by adaine revoking aelwyns diplomatic immunity.

arianwen who truly could not understand that adaine was talking about when she called her mother cruel, and angwyn who thought he could “fix” adaine BY CASTING LIGHTNING AT HER

anyway, big long post about the parallels between these specific Bad Parents (and literal bad parents)

[zephhhhh]

listen. sometimes you gotta draw the blorbos cosplaying the bad and highly questionable shoujo of your youth.

[ethanhuntfemmefatale]

oh do you guys even understand how i feel about this shot

[jabberwockprince]

dont let venimenot distract you from the fact that i still think forget me not had the worst fucking situationship with druvis (t4t gone wrong bc they realized theyre gay). stupid fucking snake keeps pulling bitches who are way out of his league and fumbling them horribly, as god intended

[fissions-chips]

is that the hand of judgement or the hand of mercy?

(evil polycule au- tw for blood, violence, and gun violence, as well as suicide-ish themes (vaguely implied in dialogue, not by POV character))

   Get off.

   Get away.

   Valentine’s voice was a sickening smear of noise in Jon’s ears, hard to be heard over the rising static- above him, the man could just barely make out the bright gleam of too-white teeth bared in a snarl, a smile. Was he being taunted? Mocked? It was too hard to tell. 

   The fingers around his throat twisted tighter, lifting him up and slamming him down. Jon’s head knocked back into the wall and his vision filled with a bright burst of red light. A choked shout tore its way from his throat and Valentine sneered, one hand moving to fumble for his face and stifle the sound at the root. 

   “-ou said you’d make this easy!”

   The other man’s snarl met him just as he did, fingers sliding over mouth and nose, and Jon balked away- pinned between the wall and Valentine himself, there was nowhere to go, and he found himself crushed to the floor again, back bent sharply by the space where it joined the wall. He couldn’t breathe. Weight settled heavy across his chest and Valentine leaned down, until Jon felt his own ribs creak- he tried to heave himself away, arms shaking, only to have his head slammed into the wall once more. I did, he thought. I did. 

   And yet, despite his words and despite Valentine’s fury, Jon scrambled blindly for something, anything that would get the other man off of him. His hands found nothing and fingers curled beneath his jaw once more, squeezing. 

   “Stupid son of a bitch-“ Valentine cursed as Jon clawed at his wrists, eyes stretched wide in terror- there was a darkness etched beneath them, carved by illness and misery. Jon’s breath rattled beneath his palms, ribcage sharp and stark below the white of his suit. He could feel the edge of Jon’s hipbone against his knee, the man somehow thinned further than even the last time he had seen him- Valentine knew that, truly, it was his own fault, and a savage little spark of victory crowed in the back of his mind.

   One hand rose from Jon’s throat to dig into his scalp, fingers dragging the man forward by the hair as he let out a strangled shout- other hand fumbling at the pistol tucked into his waistband, Valentine wrenched his head back. “Shut up.” He sneered, forcing Jon to meet his gaze. The man flinched at the venom he saw there, at the sight of his own wide, frightened eyes staring back at him in the pink-tinged mirror of tinted lenses. 

   Pathetic, he found himself thinking, and he shrank down further. He hardly recognized himself- thinned, trembling, all of the gold and gilt long gone from him. It had drawn too much attention, after everything- his hands shook too badly to put in his piercings now, too unsteady to fasten the narrow chains of gold around his neck. Look at you. A fucking joke.

   “Who…” Valentine panted, a quiet click echoing in the air as he pulled the gun from his belt. Jon froze. “Who are you even trying to call? No one’s here, Jon- it’s just you and me.” 

   Jon felt the press of cold metal against his stomach, the other man’s eyes narrowing slightly as he drank in the way Jon was shaking beneath him. “Everyone’s gone home… and who would come if they heard you now, anyways?” His sneer shifted, melted into an award-winning facade of smiling kindness- Jon knew that look, the malice behind it clear in the way the bruising barrel of the gun lifted, shoving itself against his sternum. 

   “Go on- tell me.”

   Jon’s mouth opened- he tried to force out some answer, tried to pull a name or face to his mind. There were none. Face falling from fright into one of dismay, he glanced left and right, thinking. 

   Valentine snickered. “Your poor secretary- your poor staff, to put up with the madman Jon Spiro and all his… delusion.” He shook his head. “I really do pity your board, having to clean up the mess you left at my headquarters that night- do you even attend their meetings anymore?” 

   No. Not anymore.

   “They finally gave you the boot, eh? At every party, you’re all alone, poor thing-“ The words were hissed, venomous. “I never see your face on television anymore, unless it’s news of you being a fucking asshole… or pitiful. Good riddance. You know, Carla called you a fucking alcoholic the other day, spat it out like something rotten- if only she knew!” 

   Stop it.

   “Broken, beaten, a fucking shell-“ Valentine punctuated each word with a sudden jab against Jon’s ribcage, the edge of the gun’s barrel sharp enough to bruise. “Where’d your supposed friends go, Jonny? That pretty blue-eyed fellow you whispered all your little secrets too, and that hulking pet of his… said they’d help you take me down, did they? Scare me away and make me leave you alone?” 

   Jon paled. Tim. The sharp-eyed, sinister man with the scar-marked face and a voice that didn’t match, too soft and creaking- the man who’d asked him for a smoke. A smoke, then a secret, some man in the North and what he knew of him- a man murdered and dumped in the Kola Bay, snow blowing around their feet as the boat dipped and rocked beneath them. Jon had told him because he was desperate, yes, for relief, and the way Tim had held his shaking hands between his own to warm them had been so gentle. He had just wanted… his attention. Anyone’s attention, without intent to mock or harm. Before Tim, Jon couldn’t recall a hand that had been reached out to him without beating him bloody, unless it had been across an office table. No one talked to him anymore, and he couldn’t find it in him to blame them.

   And Tim… Tim, despite his kindness, had proven to be one of the most fearsome men Jon had ever met. In his mind, he still saw the face of that Mafiya man as Tim had carved the flesh from his fingers, warmed metal until it had crackled and glowed only to douse it on any skin he could reach. Messy work. Grudge work. 

   Tim had set his sights on Chicago’s criminal underbelly, after that- and Jon had helped him. God, he was stupid. Something nauseous bubbled up in his stomach, beneath his fear and the pounding of his heart and skull. I’m such an idiot, he thought, because he knew it was a foolish thing to do- and because he knew if Tim asked him again, for names or numbers or where this man could be found, he’d tell him. He’d tell him anything at all. 

   Anything to be held in those hands again. 

   “Well,” Valentine continued, lifting his hand from Jon’s hair to sweep it back across his own, tidying the strands that were beginning to come loose- it didn’t disguise the near-manic glint in his eyes, the way his teeth bared as he spoke. “I’m almost tempted, to let you rot up here in your pretty penthouse all by yourself- but you just can’t take a hint, can you?” 

   Jon shrank back against the wall, the gun cold against his heaving chest- his heart was pounding so hard in his ears that he could barely hear the other. The width of his vision had narrowed, Valentine’s face a blurred smear of glinting teeth and glasses above his own. “Wh…what?” He choked out, wincing as Valentine leaned close and sneered. 

   “I told you, once, that I wasn’t going to kill you until you begged me for it.” 

   Despite the hatred glittering in his odd eyes, Valentine’s voice was airy, conversational- as if he was recalling a memory of poor weather, or a previous performance. Jon stilled. He remembered, too, hazy as it was. He hadn’t been clear-headed for a long time now.

   Shaking hands curled around the balcony railing, frost stinging beneath his fingers as Valentine had held him there, hand on the back of his head and forcing him to look down, down, down at the dizzying lights of the city far below. Threatening to throw him off. His feet lifted off the ground ever-so-slightly, vertigo snatching his breath away as the other had hissed into his ear. 

   “They wouldn’t think you fell.” 

   Valentine had tossed him away then, leaving him slumped against the glass door of the balcony as he’d strutted back inside, cool as could be.  Jon hadn’t moved for hours after that, sitting there shaking with his head in his hands, fighting a feeling he didn’t know how to name. Despair, yes, and terror. Blind, mind-numbing terror- and a little bit of something else too, something that had left him reeling in a haze. He had only moved to go inside when he realized that night had fallen.

   He felt that same feeling now, coiling like a snake in the pit of his stomach. Something hollow, sickening- his mind blanked, hands curling into fists until they ached. Something that pulled at him.

   “And I have tried,” Valentine continued, dragging Jon’s attention back to him with a hand slammed into the wall beside his head. “-to be patient, and just… nudge you in the right direction.” That same hand slid down in the edge of Jon’s vision, the man kept from further retreat by the touch of cold metal to his throat. There was a quiet tap against the plastic box clipped to his belt, pills rattling. 

   Suddenly, with a furious snarl, Valentine ripped it free and tossed it across the floor, Jon’s medicine scattering across the pale tile and carpeting with a clatter. Jon stared after them, shocked. A shiver ran down him at the sight of the little white tablets- the image blurred and Jon realized there were tears welling in his eyes.

   Oh.

   Lip curling, Valentine grabbed his jaw and wrenched in forward, Jon’s yelp of pain drowned by the other man’s voice, trembling with rage and much, much louder. “But… there is some stupid little part of you, Jon, that’s fucking- fucking stubborn! You stupid fuck! Don’t you get it?” He shook him like a rag doll. “We’d all be happier if you’d have just taken the fucking hint years ago and died already!”

   Jon’s eyes screwed shut as the other man’s teeth snapped, only inches from his face. The fury emanating from Valentine was overwhelming, and a strangled sob slipped from his mouth as Jon frantically clawed at the fingers digging into his jawbone. Pain splintered beneath his teeth, following the fault lines of decades-old injury, and even the gun rammed beneath his throat couldn’t stop his tears from falling. 

   “Do you like living like this?” The other man snarled. “Reduced to being some old-money upstart’s lackey, high and hooked on pills in a company building you don’t own anymore? The laughingstock of your peers and board, so utterly alone that you couldn’t name one person who will give a shit when I pull this trigger?”

   Please stop- just stop talking. It was too much, all of it was too much- Valentine’s fury and the gun pressed to his jaw and the horrible, horrible knowledge of what, exactly, had finally driven the other man over the edge. Jon’s pill box bumped the side of his hip and the rattle of it forced another sob from him. 

   When did you start to hate me this much? The other man had never loved him, Jon knew that much- even if he had chased after it regardless. He had never quite known how to stop. But certainly, at one point, they had passed for friends, passed for lovers- had all of this come from the break-in? Before? 

   “-‘m done waiting.” Valentine’s voice cut through his racing thoughts, the pistol lifting from his throat to suddenly, jarringly, press to his teeth. Jon’s heart froze in his chest, his balk of alarm halted by Valentine’s nails sinking into the flesh of his jaw. The other man’s eyes were cruel, near-manic with fury- and yet, his hands remained steady as he leaned forward and hissed. 

   “Now- open your fucking mouth, so I can do us both a favor.”

   Jon didn’t move. Jon couldn’t move. He couldn’t see the other man in front of him, could barely make out the words he spoke. Sight and sense and sound dissolved completely, and all Jon could make out was the cold steel pressed against his mouth, hard enough to hurt. It clicked, Valentine continuing to hiss something venomous and cruel into his ear- Jon stared down at the gleam of the metal. 

   His vision blurred, eyes stinging. 

   Please be quick. It was all he could think to beg for, in the moment. Please, please be painless. 

   Clk-

   “Enough.”

   Without warning, Jon found himself dragged forward as Valentine shrieked, wrenched away from the other man by an unseen force. The gun clattered to the floor, skittering out of reach as Jon froze against the ground, blinking down at the white tile between his fingers. Muffled curses and a heavy thump could be heard, followed by a sharp hiss of pain- the sound trickled into silence, drowned out by quiet, uneven footsteps, drawing nearer for a moment before they paused.

   A shadow was across him. A dark figure loomed in the corner of his blurring vision, one hand reaching out. Jon kept his eyes down to the floor, trembling. 

   There was a small nudge against his shoulder- the tip of an Oxford shoe, smudging the white fabric of his suit.

   “-on.” 

   He knew that voice, too-soft and creaking- Jon swallowed, trying to will himself to sink back on his knees and look up, rise to his feet, something. Something other than staring down at his own shaking hands with tears in his eyes. He couldn’t find the effort, however- the panicked, rabbit-fast racing of his heart was building in his chest, his breath beginning to catch in his throat as blind terror (and hurt, a hurt he couldn’t quite name and didn’t care to) threatened to overwhelm him completely. 

   “Jon?” 

   Tim’s voice was in his ear now, the man crouched at his side- head tilting slightly, his eyes narrowed further as Jon shuddered violently, sinking forward to huddle against the ground with a thin, hiccuping sound. For a moment, the newcomer said nothing, only watching as Jon began to sob again, frantic hands curling over his head to tangle into his hair, nails digging into his scalp as he lost the battle to pull himself back together. 

   Then, he turned his head. Ice-white eyes took in the scattered pills and upturned furniture, the mark against the wall where Jon’s head had been smacked into it. For the briefest of moments, something flickered in the edges of his otherwise-impassive face, a glimpse of some sinister emotion- then, the man stood, hands settling into his pockets as he turned on his heel, away from the other. 

   “You know,” he rasped, voice taking on a conversational note. His footsteps echoed eerily around the near-silent room. “I must applaud your deceptive nature- you really are a natural, aren’t you?” 

   “Oh, fuck you!” 

   Valentine’s voice cracked sharply as he spit the words out, struggling against the massive man currently pinning him to the ivory floor- blood was spurting from his nose, the tile smudged with red from where Butler, Tim’s bodyguard, had slammed him into it. It looked out-of-sorts, smearing down his handsome face to stain his teeth red. 

    Tim pondered this as he slowed to a stop in front of the two. “I like to believe I’m a perceptive man- very perceptive. And though I knew in an instant upon meeting you that you, like me, or like Jon, was nothing less than a wicked, wicked man… I must say, I never took you for such a…” He paused, head tilting slightly as he seemed to search for the word. 

   “A… bully. Yes, that’s it.” 

   Ghost-pale eyes narrowed as Tim quietly pulled a cigarette case from his pocket, taking one and lighting it. “Isn’t it beneath you?“ He muttered, taking a deep drag of smoke before blowing it in a fine jet towards the ceiling. His voice took on the slightest note of tension, a wire pulled taut. 

   “I told you, quite kindly, to leave Jon alone- that your games with him were over… and yet, here we are.” 

   “Oh, shut it, you pompous-ass bi-“ 

   There was the slightest twitch in the way Tim held his cigarette, a minute nod of his head, and Valentine’s voice cut off with a shriek as the air shook with a wet snap. The man thrashed, head knocking against the ground and teeth gritted in pain as Butler twisted his wrist further still, the crunch of bone evident as his fingers tightened. 

   Tim took another puff of smoke, letting it linger on his tongue for a moment as he dusted his cigarette over the other man’s head. Valentine hissed, muttering pained and muffled curses against the floor. His glasses had cracked, the lenses splintering further as Tim crouched down, plucking them from the other’s nose without a moment’s hesitation. Blood had flecked the pale-pink glass, and Tim idly began to clean them. 

   “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” 

  For a moment, Valentine only breathed against the floor, swallowing thickly as his lip twisted in a sneer. “Go… go fuck yourself, Timmy.” He spat, glaring up at the other with eyes full of hate. He blinked, eyes flickering to a point past Tim- the man watched as Valentine’s snarl faltered, before it sharpened into a bitter, mocking smile. 

   “Have fun fixing that fucking mess-“ 

   Another wordless gesture, another muffled screech as Tim’s shoe slammed into the other man’s skull, grinding it beneath his heel as a flicker of frightening, violent rage ghosted over his face. Then, just like that, it was gone, and his features fell back into the same impassive expression as before, the man jamming his cigarette between his teeth as he stepped away, turning his head. Behind him, the glasses clattered to the ground, lenses shattering completely as they met the tile.

   Jon was pressed against the wall, shivering violently. His hands were still fisted in his hair, head hidden behind his knees as his shoulders shook with hiccuping sobs. As Tim’s shadow fell across him, he flinched, huddling further upon himself as he shrank away from the hand offered to him. 

   “Jon?” Tim tried again- his tone was still sharpened, and Jon shuddered as his fingers brushed the white fabric of his suit. They drifted upwards, curling beneath the man’s jaw even as he forced his voice to soften, low and soothing. 

   “Oh, Jon…” Forcing Jon to meet his eye, Tim was relieved to see a flicker of recognition there, the man stilling under his hand as he pulled him closer. Gently, Tim ran his thumb along the edge of his cheek, wiping the tears away. “No, no, none of that now. There’s no need for such an unsightly thing, my dear. You’re safe.” 

    Trembling, the man blinked up at him with wide, bloodshot eyes, hands fumbling to find purchase, clinging to him with shaking fingers. It had been weeks since they had last been able to meet properly, Tim too busy with preparations to arrange it- fury bubbled up in the pit of his stomach at the sight of Jon so ragged, and he forced himself to swallow it down for fear of frightening Jon further. He had always been a skittish man, worn thin and stressed- now, he seemed to be sick with it. 

   “He… I-“ Jon’s voice broke off into a choked sound as the edge of Tim’s thumb brushed a soon-to-be-bruise along his cheekbone. He didn’t flinch away, under the touch, but Tim saw a flicker of fright in his eyes, there and then gone. Swallowing, the man’s mouth opened, closed- Jon’s eyes drifted past Tim’s shoulder, only to widen at the sight of Valentine, wrist twisted at a sickening angle and with the man struggling violently beneath Butler’s hands. 

   He paled. 

   “Tim… Tim, wait-“ Jon’s breath hitched, his fingers tightening against the fabric of Tim’s jacket as he clung to him, heedless to the way the other’s eyes widened in shock at the sudden panic in his voice. “Val, he…” 

   After everything he’s done to you, you still call him by a nickname? It was saddening, really, to see a former criminal behave in such a manner. Tim’s brow furrowed. 

   Enough of this. 

   The hand around his jaw shook him slightly, Jon’s mouth snapping shut as he found himself forced to meet Tim’s eyes once again. They were stony, cold- nonetheless, his voice was still soft and his touch still gentle as he murmured. 

   “It’s out of your hands now, Jon.”  

   The fingers curled into his jacket slipped, and Tim caught Jon’s hand with his own, the other keeping his gaze fixed on the man in front of him, not the one struggling far behind. “But-“ Jon cut himself off just as Tim spoke again- this time, there was a note of command somewhere in his voice, soft as it was. He was a man used to being obeyed. 

   “Jon, my dear,” he repeated. “It’s not up to you anymore.”

   The man blinked. He was still trembling under Tim’s hands- idly, the man gave the fingers intertwined with his own a small squeeze, in as comforting a gesture as he could manage. Slowly, Jon’s mouth closed- he looked back at Valentine. Back to Tim. 

   Then, without a word, he turned his eyes to the floor. 

   For a moment, neither moved- then, with a sigh, Tim forced himself upright, unsteady on his bad leg after crouching for so long. Automatically, Jon’s hands moved to steady him as he went- a small gesture, but one Tim appreciated nonetheless. He pulled the other up after him, Jon staggering as his feet met the floor. Pills clattered away from them across the tile, and Tim’s lip curled slightly. What a mess, all of this. 

   Before Jon could look up again, and see what was about to befall his enemy, Tim grabbed his hand tightly and began, slowly, to walk, leading the other out of the room. Jon, to his credit, followed without complaint, his head bowed and eyes wide and empty, staring down at the floor. 

   As they walked through the doorway, Tim paused, lifting a hand. Knowing Butler’s eyes were on him, he gestured again, a snapping sort of motion- then, hurriedly, he pushed Jon through the door and closed it behind him. It wasn’t quite fast enough, however, to miss the undeniable snap of bone, and he felt Jon shudder beneath his hand. 

   Under most circumstances, Tim would not have settled for something so quick, but Jon had been through enough for one evening- Tim would not stain the floors of his home further with blood. 

   Our home, now, he mused.

   “Come.” Pulling Jon past the bedroom and into the bathroom, Tim flicked on the lights and steered Jon to the edge of the tub, waiting until he sat down to pull his hands away. Jon didn’t lift his head- that same shivering persisted, fingertips trembling as they dug into the white fabric of his trousers, the man struggling not to shake himself apart entirely. 

   “Jon?” 

   There was no answer. The other seemed hardly to have heard him, wide eyes fixed to the floor- he flinched violently when Tim’s hand brushed his shoulder, breath hitching in his chest. 

   Tim blinked. “You’ve got blood in your hair.” He spoke, simply- without waiting for permission or comment, he pulled a rag from the nearby counter and dampened it in the sink. “I don’t see any grievous wound, however. You’ll live.” 

   He received no answer for that, either.

   When Jon finally spoke again, it had been almost an hour- Tim had cleaned the blood from his hair with careful hands, had combed and dried it. He, too, had said nothing, content to simply focus on the task at hand- shrugging Jon out of his coat, checking him over for further injury. Save for some nasty bruising, there wasn’t much to find, but he clicked his tongue all the same at the state of the other’s health. 

   “…Are you going to kill me?” 

   Jon’s voice was hoarse, cracking sharply- Tim startled, brow furrowing as he took in what the other had said.

   “Hm? Oh- no, Jon, I don’t plan to kill you.” Initially sharp with shock, his voice softened again, quiet. One hand continuing to run itself through Jon’s hair, he looked in the mirror opposite them- Jon did the same. His face had a hollow cast to it, utterly exhausted- still, he was no longer trembling, and his gaze didn’t waver when it met Tim’s reflection, eyes narrowing slightly. “What makes you think otherwise?” 

   “If you’re here…” Jon muttered. He paused, visibly turning something over in his head. “Then that means you’ve finished whatever it was you were doing- and what you were doing was making arrangements with Fission Chips, or at least attempting to. Putting yourself on top.” When Tim’s eyes widened further in surprise, Jon sniffed. 

   “I’m… tired. I’m tired, and I’m not involved with much anymore, but I’m not blind, Tim.” After pausing again, eyes closing for a moment, Jon continued- his head fell into his hands as he spoke. 

   “Which means you don’t need me anymore, because you know now that I’ve got no say in any of it. I can’t help you.” 

   He didn’t sound particularly upset- he sounded like it was expected, though Tim didn’t miss the note of disappointment there. “I…” He began, before taking a moment to sort out his words himself. 

   “I have no intention of killing you, Jon. Like you said, you have no say in things overall- so what would be the point?” Shaking his head slightly, he resumed working his fingers through Jon’s hair- despite his doubts, the man hadn’t moved to lean away from him. Instead, Tim felt himself press back into the touch. “I’m many things- many, awful things, Jon, but I’m not a liar. I told you I’d help you, and I fully intend to see to it that you’re kept comfortable and content, whatever that may look like. I don’t need your help, it’s true… but I do like your company. You’re a clever man, no matter what that stupid fuck out there was telling you.” 

   Jon stiffened slightly beneath his hands, and Tim sensed that he’d struck a nerve. Sighing, he nodded to their reflections in the mirror- Jon’s head lifted, fixing him once more with that same hollow stare. “Fission Chips needs someone running it,” he continued. “And your board is a incompetent pain in the ass. That will all be dealt with- but don’t assume that your lack of say now means you won’t have any in the future. This isn’t an overthrow- there’s no one to supersede. I’m merely filling an empty seat… that doesn’t mean I’ll ignore your input on matters, if you’re willing to give it- I’ve never run a company such as this before.”

   If he had been expecting some sort of reaction, a flicker of interest or excitement in Jon’s features as he watched himself in the mirror, watched as the other lifted his hands from his hair to settle against his shoulders, thumbs pressing gentle circles between the blades, then Tim would have been disappointed. Tim, however, was unsurprised when Jon merely closed his eyes, exhaustion emanating from him in waves, seeping out from the day he’d had- and at the prospect Tim was offering. 

   He doesn’t believe me, Tim mused. Or he doesn’t much care at the moment. He could hardly blame him- he and Butler had only arrived moments before interrupting the attempted shooting, but he had heard enough to shock him, and spark his fury. A decent night’s rest will do more for him right now than I ever could. 

   Tim wasn’t lying. He did feel some affection for Jon, somewhere deep down inside of himself, where the soft, gentle creature he had almost become still lived. As much as he cared for Butler, Tim had grown too used to having someone at his arm, someone he could look after. Jon was desperate for good attention, and in his moments of rare energy or impulse, his chatterbox nature and the sly, scheming criminal he was once known for came out. Tim wanted to see more of it. 

   Besides- he was useful. He was clever. He had managed to track down a very secretive man in the far north, and helped Tim get his vengeance on that same man, even as he’d stood on the deck of the ship outside, hands over his ears as Britva screamed and screamed. To return to Tim’s side again after witnessing such violence was no small thing.

   Tilting his head, Tim continued. “Regardless of all feelings on the matter, you’re in no state to return to your former position right now, Jon. And I think you know that. In fact, I think it’s not really what you want at all- so perhaps, in the meantime, you could direct your attention to anything else you happen to desire, and I’ll see what I can do.” 

   There was a rap against Jon’s shoulder, the man looking up to find Tim pulling away from him, gesturing towards the door. “Though…” He paused, eyes sharpening slightly as the other man slowly forced himself upright to follow. “I know such words mean little to you right now. It’s late- you should get some rest, if you can. We can discuss further matters in the morning. I won’t be far.” 

   As his hand lingered on the bedroom door, however, he froze. Jon blinked back at him tiredly, one hand reaching up to scrub at his cheek where the tear tracks had dried. Tim saw his lip curl slightly in disgust- disgust with himself or the inconvenience, Tim did not know, and he felt that same fury at the Phonetix CEO spark up again. 

   “And… don’t go into the sitting room. Thank you.”

[essektheylyss]

The real problem with doing rewrites and edits is that every time the pressure to Not Fuck It Up increases, and oh boy is it HARD.

[naivety]

the way clarke brought out the heart in lexa and the head in bellamy

[insult-the-glory]

"It's just... those first two years, we were chasing the idea of being together, rather than actually being together. I got to know Filip better than I ever got to know you: staying up past curfew, stealing lamb chops from the Supper Hall, or even just sitting on a rooftop and talking—you know, about our families or what we're afraid of or what kind of pie we like. Doesn't matter how it all turned out, really... He was my first real friend."

—Soman Chainani, The Last Ever After, p 18-19

...

"I think about her too."

[Agatha] turned and saw Tedros at the window, watching her, his mouth trembling. "About how we just left her," he rasped, eyes welling. "I know she's a bad friend, I know she's Evil, I know Filip was a lie... but we just left her... with that monster. We left all of them. The whole school... just to save ourselves. What kind of prince is that, Agatha? What would my father think of me?"

—Soman Chainani, The Last Ever After, p 33

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Accidentally Falling For a Fae Prince - Malleus Draconia x reader

When you get dragged into a novel which ends with the heroine in a polycule with the most annoying men in literature, you decide that you're gonna skip town. ...Only to trip over the fae prince, Malleus Draconia.

Series Masterlist

Work’s been a disaster from the moment you stepped in. Your boss, who makes dollar bills while you’re lucky to scrape together a few dimes, is in one of those moods. So, instead of pretending to be productive, you do what any rational person would do: you pull up a random webnovel website and let the ridiculousness wash over you.

And oh boy, is it ridiculous.

You start reading "The Villainess's Revenge: My Heart is Colder Than Lukewarm Tea!" and, within the first chapter, you realize it’s like watching cement dry—but with less plot development. The villainess is cartoonishly evil, stomping around in ballgowns with a sneer so exaggerated it’s a wonder her face hasn’t permanently locked in place. Her tragic backstory? She once got served lukewarm tea. And, oh no, she stepped in mud at a ball. The horror. Riveting stuff, truly.

Meanwhile, the heroine? She’s clearly phoning it in. Every scene she’s in, her eyes are dead inside like she’s as exhausted as you are by the sheer nonsense of the plot. If this girl could quit her own story, she would’ve done it yesterday. You can't help but mentally send her your condolences.

Then, there’s the male leads. If you can even call them that.

First, the Crown Prince, whose idea of a crisis is a fashion faux pas. This guy once canceled a whole wedding because his socks didn’t match. His spirals into existential crises every time a thread is out of place would be entertaining if it weren’t so tragic. The way he’s written, you swear he could kill a man with a critical stare over improper cufflinks.

Next up, the Duke. Brooding, romantic, and absolutely incapable of writing good poetry. Every time he spots the heroine, he launches into the worst rhymes you’ve ever heard. It’s so bad that you’re embarrassed for both of them. He follows her everywhere, reading his masterpieces at the most inappropriate times—like during a funeral. Who does that?

And finally, the Hero Knight. Ah, the knight. The epitome of overzealous stupidity. He turned grocery shopping into a three-day quest for the “Golden Lettuce of Destiny,” and vowed to defend the heroine’s honor from…nobody. You’d swear he’s larping 24/7. It’s exhausting just reading about him.

As if that weren’t bad enough, the heroine ends up in a polycule with all of them because the author was so sick of comments asking, “Who will she date?” that they just threw their hands up and went, “Fine, she dates everyone!” The heroine looks exhausted, and you feel for her. You feel for yourself, too, because reading this is actively lowering your IQ.

You sit there, flabbergasted, staring at the screen. This is what you’ve chosen to waste your time on? What’s worse, your boss will probably come around the corner any minute to scold you—oh wait, nope, the corner of the ceiling just gave out and bonk—there goes a chunk of plaster, right on your head.

You cannot believe this is how you get taken out.

You wake up and, somehow, it’s worse. You’re in a four-poster bed, covered in satin sheets, and your first thought is goddammit—you’ve been isekai’d. And not just into any world. That world. The webnovel.

You drag yourself out of bed, feeling a sudden wave of dread. You were the heroine in this mess. The heroine. Goddammit, why does everything bad only happen to you? For a moment, you're relieved you’re not the villainess. But then you remember: you’re stuck in a polycule with three absolute clowns.

Nope. Not happening. You will not end up with any of these pushy idiots. Goal one? Avoid the polycule at all costs.

Suddenly, the door flies open with a bang, and in burst all three male leads, dramatically weeping and crying out how you’ve been in a coma for so long. Their over-the-top emotions would be heartwarming if they weren’t so ridiculous.

“You’ve returned to us, my dearest flower of the kingdom!” the Crown Prince sobs, still perfectly dressed despite the tears streaming down his face. He sniffs and dabs his eyes with a handkerchief embroidered with his own face. Of course.

The Duke starts reciting the worst love poem you've ever heard, right there, in the middle of your room, as if you didn’t just wake up from a coma.

“I wandered, lost, like a daisy in a field of… uh… misery, because you, my sun, were hidden in the sky of my heart…” The rest is a blur because your brain has officially short-circuited.

And the Hero Knight? He’s already on his knees, swearing to protect you from whatever invisible threat he’s made up this time. “Fear not, fair lady! I shall defend thee against all who oppose your grace!”

You manage to kick all of them out of your room with a lot of effort and a lot of heavy glares. The moment you’re alone, you find a suicide note on the dresser, written by the actual heroine. Apparently, she drank poison just to get away from these weirdos.

What an icon.

But not you. You’re not dying again for these guys. No way.

You’re moving through the bustling market in full disguise, keeping an eye out for any knights or familiar faces. Your plan is simple: escape the polycule before any of those nutjobs track you down. With every step, you remind yourself that freedom is just one boat ride away—preferably to a distant land that has no idea who the Hero Knight, the Duke, or the crown prince are.

But as you round a corner, your thoughts scatter when you bump—quite literally—into something solid. You stagger back, blinking up at a tall figure dressed in all black. At first, panic flashes through you—please don’t be one of them—but when your eyes meet his, it’s not the Crown Prince, the Duke, or the Hero Knight.

It’s someone new. And he seems… perfectly pleasant. His strikingly elegant features, crowned by horns, should make him imposing, but his eyes soften as he looks at you. There’s an almost serene curiosity in them.

"Ah, forgive me," he says smoothly, his deep voice lilting with a formality that surprises you. "I didn’t see you there."

"No, no, it’s my fault," you reply, awkwardly waving your hands, trying to figure out why he’s so different from everyone else in this place. He’s polite. Polite. Already, you feel better about this encounter than you have about every conversation with the three other disasters that have been stalking you.

He steps aside, but instead of walking away, he looks around the marketplace with a faint, thoughtful frown. “I seem to have… lost my way,” he admits, glancing back at you. “This place is unfamiliar to me.”

Something in his tone, in the way his eyes briefly widen as he takes in the simplest market stalls—like he’s genuinely fascinated—makes you soften toward him. Ugh, bleeding heart strikes again. Before you know it, you find yourself asking, “Do you need help? I can… show you around.”

He turns his gaze back to you, and his lips quirk into the smallest, softest smile. “That would be most appreciated.”

As you walk together, he marvels at the simplest things—the fresh bread from a stall, the colorful fabrics, the scent of flowers sold at a cart. He’s curious about everything, eyes lingering on each sight like it’s the first time he’s ever seen such mundane wonders. His fascination is oddly endearing. It’s clear he’s not used to mingling in places like this, and his awe at the most normal things is… well, cute.

"Have you ever seen so many people in one place?" you ask, trying to fill the silence, though you’re surprised to find that you’re not uncomfortable around him.

He chuckles lightly. “Not in such a casual setting, no. It’s quite… charming. Everything feels so alive.”

You almost snort at the idea that this guy finds a basic market so thrilling, but you keep it in check. At least he’s not another drama king like the Crown Prince or a bad poet like the Duke.

It’s been a surprisingly pleasant afternoon until your luck inevitably runs out. You spot the familiar, impeccably dressed figure of the Crown Prince moving through the crowd with his knights. He’s scanning the area, and panic rises in your throat.

“Crap,” you mutter under your breath. Instinctively, you grab the man’s sleeve, tugging him down the nearest alley. “We need to go. Now.”

He blinks, looking puzzled but not resisting. “Is something wrong?”

Yes! you think, your mind flashing to the emotional wreck that is the prince. "No time to explain. Just trust me."

But you’re too late. The Crown Prince, in all his resplendent, overly perfect glory, catches sight of you just as you’re about to disappear into the shadows.

“Well, well,” the prince calls out with an overly bright smile. “If it isn’t my darling—oh!” His eyes widen as he finally notices the tall figure standing next to you. “Prince Malleus Draconia of Briar Valley!”

You blue screen.

Your grip loosens on Malleus’s sleeve as your brain sputters. Prince. Fae Prince. You’d just been casually chatting with the Prince of Briar Valley like he was some random lost guy? Did you seriously just… You internally spiral as the realization sinks in. Of course, he's a prince! The horns! The aura!

Malleus, for his part, remains calm and collected, inclining his head toward the Crown Prince. “Ah, it seems I’ve been found,” he says smoothly, completely unaware of the crisis currently happening inside your head.

The Crown Prince gives Malleus a florid bow, then immediately turns his attention back to you. “My dear, you shouldn’t be wandering the streets alone. Allow me to escort you to the palace.” His hand reaches out toward you, his smile practiced and princely, but your gut clenches with discomfort. No, nope, no thanks.

You step back instinctively, your unease written all over your face. Before you can even figure out how to politely decline without causing a scene, Malleus moves.

Malleus, who up until now was watching the exchange with mild curiosity, steps forward. His eyes narrow slightly as he looks the Crown Prince up and down. The prince stumbles over his words and backs away under the weight of Malleus’ stare.

The Crown Prince’s smile falters. He hesitates, glancing between you and Malleus, clearly unsure how to proceed. “I—um—of course, Prince Malleus, I didn’t mean to overstep,” he stammers, eyes darting nervously between the two of you.

You stand there, stunned, watching as Malleus’ mere presence makes the most annoyingly confident man in the kingdom back off. Is this real life?

The prince clears his throat awkwardly, then shoots you one last uneasy smile before making a swift retreat with his knights, leaving you standing there with Malleus.

You let out a long, relieved breath and glance up at him, feeling a little less like you’re about to lose your mind. “Thanks… for that.”

Malleus’ lips quirk into a tiny, knowing smile. “It was my pleasure.” He tilts his head, eyes still twinkling with that same curiosity from earlier. “Although, I must admit, I’m rather curious why you were so eager to avoid him.”

You laugh nervously, running a hand through your hair. “Let’s just say… he’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

You don't know how you’ve ended up in this mess. One minute, you’re lost in the market, trying to figure out how to escape this ridiculous polycule situation, and the next, you’ve been dragged into a carriage on your way to the palace—with the Crown Prince, your overly dramatic Knight, and the Fae Prince himself.

Malleus, the Fae Prince, had politely asked if you would accompany him to the palace, and in a panic, you said yes. Because, really, how could you admit to both him and the Crown Prince that you’d actually been planning to skip town? So now, here you are, sitting through the most awkward carriage ride of your life.

Your knight, perched beside you, clears his throat dramatically. “Fear not, my lady,” he says in a voice filled with too much gravitas for the situation. “I shall protect you from all perils! Should the wind itself dare to brush against your delicate frame, I shall strike it down with my blade! No harm shall come to you so long as I draw breath!”

You facepalm internally. Please. Stop talking.

The Crown Prince, sitting across from you, adjusts his cufflinks for the tenth time. “I must say,” he purrs, fishing for compliments, “this outfit is particularly resplendent today, don’t you think? The shade of royal blue brings out the depth in my eyes. It was hand-tailored, of course. What do you think, my dear?”

You blink at him, trying to process whether he’s serious. He is. He’s absolutely serious.

Malleus watches the exchange in silent confusion, his eyes flicking between the three of you as if trying to figure out if this is normal human behavior. After all, you’ve got one guy swearing to kill the breeze, another obsessed with his reflection, and you, trying to melt into the upholstery.

“Is this… how humans typically behave?” Malleus asks, his voice soft and genuinely curious.

You shake your head vigorously. “No. This is how clowns behave.” Malleus raises an eyebrow but seems satisfied with your answer, settling back into his seat.

When the carriage finally—finally—arrives at the palace, you’re barely holding onto your sanity. But things are about to get worse.

As you’re ushered into the meeting hall, a trio approaches you. It’s Lilia, Silver, and… Sebek.

Sebek, who looks one step away from a full-blown aneurysm.

"Lord Malleus!" Sebek practically screeches, running toward Malleus like the world was ending. “How could you wander off on your own?! Do you know how much chaos you caused?! I almost fainted from sheer terror!”

Malleus doesn’t even flinch. “I had a guide.” He gestures toward you.

Sebek’s eyes land on you, and you quickly glance around for an escape route. “YOU?! YOU DARED TOUCH—”

Before Sebek can finish, you spot the Duke—one of your many suitors and part of the delegation—striding toward you with his usual brooding expression. You instinctively grab onto Malleus’ sleeve for some comfort (or maybe protection from what’s about to come next).

The Duke’s eyes light up as he sees you, and then… he begins to recite. “Oh, my dearest, like the moon that doth gleam upon a cheese plate—no, wait—upon a field of… toes? Your hair, like the petals of wilted roses in the rain... um… and your eyes… they are like two potatoes, cooked to perfection…”

Even Sebek is speechless. You think you see a vein pop on his forehead, but for once, he’s too stunned to yell.

Lilia, standing beside Sebek, chuckles, amused. “Well, I have to say, that’s… quite something.”

Malleus tilts his head, blinking at the Duke’s strange poetry. “Are potatoes considered a form of flattery in human culture?”

“No,” you mutter. “No, they’re not.”

Just when you think things can’t possibly get more absurd, the meeting begins. Because you’re technically the daughter of a Duke, you’re forced to sit through the whole ordeal. They start discussing the logistics of showing the fae delegation around the city.

“We need someone trustworthy to act as a guide,” one of the officials says, glancing toward the Crown Prince.

Malleus, who had been quietly observing the room, suddenly speaks up. “I believe I’ve already found the perfect guide.”

You freeze. No. No, no, no.

“The young lady who helped me in the market,” Malleus continues, looking directly at you.

The room falls silent. You, of all people, are the last person who wants to be anywhere near the fae delegation or, worse, your insane suitors. But before you can even open your mouth to refuse, the Crown Prince starts.

“My dear,” he says, leaning forward with a princely grin, “while I understand you’ve already formed an acquaintance with Prince Malleus, perhaps it would be better for someone more… experienced to take on this role.” He flashes his most charming smile, which, after everything today, only makes you cringe.

But Malleus just stares at him, completely unbothered. “No. I want her as my guide.”

Silver shifts slightly, glancing at you with an expression you can’t quite place, while Lilia’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “How interesting,” Lilia murmurs, clearly entertained by the situation.

Sebek, however, explodes. “IF LORD MALLEUS WANTS HER AS HIS GUIDE, THEN SO BE IT!” He turns toward the Crown Prince, practically vibrating with anger. “YOU WILL NOT QUESTION HIS DECISION!”

The Crown Prince, for once, looks genuinely taken aback. “I—I meant no offense! Of course, whatever Lord Malleus desires…”

You sink into your chair, feeling like your last chance at a peaceful life just flew out the window. Malleus turns to you with an expectant, polite smile. “I look forward to our time together.”

You groan inwardly. How is this my life?

You had to admit, Malleus was really nice. When you compared him to the absolute circus of clowns you had to deal with, he was practically a gift sent from above. So, you made a decision—if you were going to be his guide, you were going to be the best guide ever. And once they wrapped up this whole diplomatic visit, you'd beg him to take you with him to Briar Valley, where hopefully, your ridiculous suitors would be very far away.

Apparently, being a guide also meant dragging him along to everything you did, including navigating high society. This was where things got tricky. The original heroine had endured these events like a pro, but you? You were just a lowly office worker who'd read bad webnovels to avoid work. Now you were living in one.

First stop: a tea party.

As you sit down with Malleus beside you—who’s awkwardly perched in a chair much too small for him—you scan the room. Of course, all three of your ridiculous suitors are here. The Crown Prince, obsessing over the intricate lace of his cravat. The Hero Knight, sharpening his sword for no reason in the middle of a garden party. And the Duke, scribbling poetry on a napkin with all the grace of a sleep-deprived teenager finishing their homework five minutes before class.

But this wasn’t just about them. This was also your first time meeting the so-called villainess.

The villainess arrived like a whirlwind of petticoats and extravagant headpieces, smiling in that "I'm about to ruin your whole existence" kind of way. You smiled back, trying not to look dead inside when she launched into a diatribe about ruffles.

"And you see," she said, flickering her wrist with an air of superiority, "it was positively scandalous! The seamstress gave me a gown with only forty ruffles. Can you imagine? What am I, a commoner?"

You tried to smile politely. Truly. But Malleus, seated beside you, was staring at her with this fascinated look, as if watching a rare bird display its feathers. You could tell he was having a hard time grasping what the point of her story was. So were you.

But then, of course, the conversation turned personal.

“And the Duke,” the villainess said with a sly smirk, “such a poetic soul. He deserves better than to pine over someone who clearly has no appreciation for his art. Don’t you think?”

You blinked. Was this woman for real? You glanced at the Duke, who had suddenly gone from scribbling to gazing at you with that awful puppy-dog look. The one that meant another horrible poem was probably brewing.

You couldn’t help it. The words came out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. “Please take him.”

The villainess's eyes widened. “What?”

Malleus looked at you in amusement, while the Duke gasped dramatically, as if you’d just run him through with a sword.

You clasped your hands together and leaned forward earnestly. “Please, please take him. I don’t want him. At all. He’s all yours. You can have him—along with his potato-themed poems.”

The Duke visibly wilted. “But—! My lady! You—you wound me!”

“No, Duke, you wound me—with your terrible metaphors,” you deadpan. “And I’m begging you. Take him. Please. For the love of everything holy, I’m begging you.”

The villainess, probably for the first time in her life, looked completely flustered. “Are you… serious?”

“Absolutely,” you said, nodding. “I will sign papers. I’ll throw a party. I’ll—whatever it takes. Just… he’s yours.”

Malleus and Lilia were practically shaking with barely-contained laughter at this point, while the Duke had dropped to one knee, a napkin-clutched in his hand like some sad bouquet. “My poems… they were written with you in mind. Each line! Each stanza! Crafted from the depths of my heart!”

“Exactly,” you said, unblinking. “That’s why I need you to take him. Before he writes more.”

The villainess stared at you, completely dumbfounded. Then, after a pause, she broke into a smile. “Well, I’ve never had a man gifted to me before. I suppose I can make an exception.”

You felt like you could cry with relief. “Thank you.”

And just like that, your beef with the villainess was squashed. You traded your tragic suitor for peace of mind, and the villainess, now on the receiving end of the Duke’s “affections,” seemed pleased with her new prize.

Malleus leaned in, his voice low but filled with amusement. “I must say, you handled that quite well.”

You sighed, finally able to relax. “I handled that with desperation.”

And just like that, you’d rid yourself of two your problems. Now… to figure out how to survive the other two without losing your sanity.

You barely had time to process your victory over one villainess before a second one spawned out of nowhere like this was some kind of twisted video game. The Isekai Overlords clearly weren’t done with you yet. And this one? Oh, she was worse. The Crown Prince’s younger sister—spoiled princess extraordinaire—who genuinely believed her father was the reason the sun rose in the morning.

But, to your surprise, she didn’t even care about you. Like, at all. She acted like you didn’t even exist. Honestly? You were grateful. At least you could blend into the background this time and—oh no. Oh no.

She was making a beeline straight for Malleus.

You watched, horrified, as the princess latched onto him, throwing herself at him like he was a rare limited-edition collectible and not, you know, the Prince of Briar Valley and one of the most powerful beings in the world. Malleus shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure how to handle the situation, while Sebek was being barely restrained by Lilia and Silver. Lilia, of course, had that mischievous glint in his eye, like he was enjoying the whole ordeal.

You, on the other hand, were not enjoying it. You could practically see your retirement plans shriveling up in front of you—this had diplomatic nightmare written all over it. If Malleus so much as sneezed, you were pretty sure this princess would declare war on Briar Valley.

So, you did the only thing you could think of: you stepped in.

“Um, excuse me, Your Highness,” you said, stepping between the princess and Malleus. “Could you maybe… not cling to him like he’s a handbag?”

She turned to you with a look of utter disdain, like you were a fly she was too annoyed to swat away. “And who are you, exactly?”

Before you could answer, she pointed an accusatory finger at you. “I challenge you to a duel! For his hand!”

You blinked. “Bro, what?”

The princess huffed. “For the hand of Prince Malleus, of course! You think I didn’t see you fawning over him?”

“Fawning? I’m literally just his guide!” You gestured to Malleus, who, for some reason, looked almost giddy. “I’m not dating him, we’re not engaged, and if you push it, we’re maybe friends.”

Malleus practically beamed at the word “friends.” Was he… happy about this? About being defended like some damsel in distress? You were defending the most powerful fae in existence, and here he was, looking like you just made his entire year.

Sebek and Silver immediately stepped forward, but before they could say anything, Malleus raised a hand. “No. I would like to see how my guide—and friend—defends my honor.”

Your brain short-circuited. What?!

The princess smirked, clearly thinking she had you cornered. “Prepare yourself for the duel then! My personal knight will face you.”

You glanced at the knight, a towering figure who looked like he’d been training for war since birth, and then back at the sword that had been thrust into your hands. This was not how you imagined your day going. You hadn’t even touched a sword before. Meanwhile, your opponent was stretching like this was a warm-up exercise.

Still, you had no choice. With a deep breath and the knowledge that you were about to make a complete fool of yourself, you stepped forward, sword held awkwardly in front of you.

The duel began.

The knight lunged at you with a practiced, fluid motion. You, on the other hand, tripped over a rock, accidentally ducking his strike, and in your flailing attempt to stay upright, the hilt of your sword smacked him right in the face.

There was a collective gasp from the audience.

“Oh no,” you muttered under your breath.

The knight staggered, his face scrunched in confusion. He tried again, this time swinging from the side. You managed to parry—purely out of luck—and in the process, tripped forward, sending your sword clattering out of your hands and somehow knocking the knight’s legs out from under him. He fell to the ground with a thud.

Dead silence followed.

You stood there, frozen, your sword lying a few feet away. The knight was on his back, staring up at the sky, clearly bewildered by what had just happened. You hadn't even swung properly!

Lilia burst out laughing. “My, my! That was quite the duel! You’ll have to take responsibility now.”

“Responsibility?” you echoed, flustered beyond belief. “For what? I just—he tripped! I tripped! That wasn’t even—”

“Exactly,” Lilia teased. “You won the duel. Now you must take responsibility for defending Prince Malleus’ honor so valiantly.”

Malleus, looking thoroughly impressed, gave you a small, pleased smile. “Indeed. You have my gratitude.”

The princess, meanwhile, was gaping at you like she couldn’t believe what just happened. “This… this is an outrage!”

You sighed, feeling utterly exhausted. “Look, I didn’t even want to duel in the first place. Can’t we just—call it a day? I’ve had enough of knights and duels and—” You gestured vaguely to Malleus. “I’m not even dating him.”

Malleus’ smile widened. “But we are friends.”

Lilia chuckled. “Ah, young love is so complicated.”

You shot him a glare. This was not what you signed up for. But hey, at least you won the duel—somehow.

You were lounging in your mansion’s parlor, the day blissfully uneventful for once. The warm sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a cozy glow over the room. Malleus was mid-conversation—no, scratch that—mid-rant about gargoyles. To your surprise, you were actually kind of into it.

“And that’s the primary difference between gargoyles and grotesques,” Malleus continued passionately. “You see, gargoyles are not merely decorative but also functional, designed to channel water away from the structure, whereas grotesques, while similar in appearance, serve no such purpose. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

You nodded, intrigued, and cut in with a genuine question. “Wait, so is the functionality the only difference? Like, are they made from the same material?”

Malleus blinked, slightly taken aback that you were not only listening but actively participating. “Yes, precisely. They are often carved from the same stone, but it’s their purpose that sets them apart. For example, in the southern—” He paused, seeming to catch himself, suddenly looking sheepish. “Ah, forgive me. I fear I’ve been talking too much.”

Sebek nearly jumped out of his seat, eyes wide with horror. “Lord Malleus! Everything you say is perfect! Don’t apologize for sharing your magnificent knowledge!”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “No, really, I enjoy it,” you said, waving off Malleus’ concerns. “I mean, how often do you get to talk about something so niche with someone who knows this much about it? I actually have a question—do any of the gargoyles in the Briar Valley have, like, historical significance? Like ones that are still functioning after all this time?”

Malleus lit up, and he launched right back into it, going on about ancient gargoyles in the Briar Valley that had withstood the test of time. He even started comparing the craftsmanship of various eras, and to your own surprise, you threw in a few comments about architecture and water systems, things you barely remembered from some random articles you’d read ages ago.

Halfway through a comparison of Gothic versus Renaissance gargoyle styles, a soft knock interrupted. Your maid entered, bowing slightly. “My lady, pardon the interruption, but we need your guidance with something in the kitchens.”

You sighed but smiled, pushing yourself off the couch. “I’ll be right back. Don’t let them bully you into leaving the gargoyle talk,” you teased as you walked out, completely unaware of the effect your comment had left behind.

As soon as the door closed, Malleus stood there, momentarily speechless. His pale cheeks took on the faintest hint of color, and his eyes were wide, as if someone had just smacked him with a metaphorical brick of emotions. The prince of Briar Valley, the most powerful creature in existence, was blushing like a schoolgirl with her first crush.

Lilia, ever the mischievous one, was already grinning from ear to ear, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, well, well… isn’t this interesting?” he purred, barely suppressing a chuckle.

Silver raised an amused brow, casting a side glance at Malleus. “It’s not every day we see him blush.”

Sebek, on the other hand, was utterly baffled but still overjoyed at seeing his lord smiling so widely. “Of course Lord Malleus is happy!” Sebek exclaimed proudly, though there was a trace of confusion in his voice. “He’s been honored with your presence and your rapt attention, as is only right! I just—” Sebek glanced around, as if trying to understand the subtle undercurrent in the room, “—I don’t understand why he’s so… red?”

Lilia patted Sebek on the back, barely holding in his laughter. “Oh, Sebek, my boy. This is what happens when someone gets the attention they’ve long desired.”

Malleus cleared his throat, trying—and failing—to compose himself. “I’m merely… pleased,” he said, though his blush betrayed him. “It’s rare to find someone who listens so attentively.”

Lilia chuckled softly. “Yes, and who knows the difference between gargoyles and grotesques, I imagine. Quite the match for you, wouldn’t you say?”

Malleus, flustered beyond belief, gave Lilia a sidelong look but said nothing, clearly more preoccupied with the strange warmth blooming in his chest.

By the time you returned, unaware of the scene you’d left behind, Malleus was still trying to gather himself. Lilia shot you a knowing smile, and Silver just gave you a look like you have no idea what’s happening, do you? Sebek, as always, continued to beam with unshakable loyalty to his blushing lord.

But hey, at least Malleus was happy—really happy.

It all started innocently enough—you were having dinner with Malleus, Sebek, Lilia, and Silver. Sebek was, as usual, going on one of his rants about how absolutely divine Malleus was, Lilia was being cryptic and vaguely mischievous, and Silver was dozing off between courses.

You, being the delightful disaster that you were, cracked a joke between bites. “Honestly, if Sebek praises Malleus any more, we might as well commission a statue of him—complete with an audio loop of Sebek’s praises.”

Malleus laughed. Actually laughed. It was such a rare sound, deep and rich, and when you heard it, your heart stuttered in your chest like someone had just jabbed you with a lightning bolt.

Oh no.

You knew, from that very moment, you were in deep, deep shit.

From that point on, everything Malleus did made it impossible for you to act normal around him. His laugh, the way his eyes crinkled when he found something amusing, the warmth in his voice when he spoke to you—how had you not noticed before? And now, every time Lilia even looked at you, it was with this knowing, mischievous grin, like the universe had finally granted him the entertainment he’d been waiting for all these centuries.

“This,” Lilia said one day, leaning in conspiratorially with a grin that could light up a room, “this is what I’ve lived so long for.”

And to make matters worse, it wasn’t just your mind tormenting you. Oh no. It was like the entire world was in on the joke. You could practically see sparkles in the air every time Malleus so much as glanced your way. Sparkles, for crying out loud. Your heart was in critical danger.

Your solution? Avoid him.

But it wasn’t that simple. You tried hiding behind furniture, ducking into bushes, and even feigning an incredibly inconvenient bout of food poisoning just to avoid being near him. One time, you spotted Malleus coming down the hall and, in a blind panic, dove behind a potted plant. The plant was tiny. You were not. Somehow, you thought it would work.

It didn’t. Malleus casually walked over, spotted you crouching awkwardly behind the plant, and said, “Is there something wrong with that shrubbery? Should I summon someone to tend to it?”

Another time, you attempted to “sneak” out of the palace by pretending you were a passing merchant. You wore a very large hat and wrapped yourself in an oversized cloak. Malleus found you immediately.

“Aren’t you feeling a bit warm in that?” he asked, blinking at your ridiculous ensemble.

He had fae hearing. He could always find you.

Even guiding him around town became a disaster. How were you supposed to be a competent host when all you could think about was how unfairly hot he was? Every word he said carried this charming, ancient elegance, and here you were, a flustered mess with zero composure.

Lilia? Still having the time of his life. He was practically choking on his laughter at this point. Silver, somehow, slept through most of your crises, and Sebek was just thrilled Malleus was spending so much time with him (though he was clearly confused about why you were acting so weird).

Finally, you had enough. One night, under the cover of the moon, you snuck into the garden with the determination of someone completely done with their own suffering. You found a flower—granted, you didn’t know what it was, but it looked nice—and you marched up to Malleus, who was out enjoying the evening air, blissfully unaware of the emotional train wreck headed his way.

“I need to say something!” you blurted, shoving the flower toward him.

Malleus took the flower carefully, glancing down at it. His expression shifted from curious to… mildly concerned? “This flower,” he said slowly, “is traditionally used in Briar Valley to signify deep betrayal…”

You blinked. Oh god.

“No, wait! I didn’t mean—!” you stammered, but before you could backtrack, your brain decided it had had enough. You blurted out the truth, no holds barred: “I like you, okay?! I’ve been a mess for weeks because of how ridiculously perfect you are, and I’m tired of avoiding you and hiding behind plants! So there!”

There was a moment of stunned silence. Malleus stared at you, his eyes wide with shock, and then, much to your surprise (and relief), he broke into the widest smile you’d ever seen on him. It was like the moon had just gotten brighter.

“You’re confessing… to me?” he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine joy.

“Yes,” you groaned, face burning with embarrassment. “Now please reject me so I can go lie in a ditch somewhere.”

But instead of rejection, you got happy dragon noises. Malleus gently pulled you into his arms and, with a voice full of affection, declared, “You are mine, then. From this day forward, you are my beloved.”

Cue your soul leaving your body.

When you broke the news to your father the next day, the poor Duke nearly fainted at the sight of the Prince of Briar Valley standing there, flanked by Silver, Sebek, and Lilia, the former general grinning like the Cheshire cat.

The Duke was intimidated—terrified, really—and quickly agreed to let the courtship proceed. But there was a catch.

“You’ll have to tell the Crown Prince and the Hero Knight yourself,” your father said, his face pale. “I’m not getting involved in that.”

Your retirement plans had officially died.

Despite all the chaos that had entered your life since becoming Malleus's beloved, you had to admit—there were perks. One of those was what you’d come to call "fae luck." It became especially apparent during a particularly tense diplomatic meeting involving the fae, the beastmen, and your kingdom.

The room was filled with strained conversations, the kind of diplomacy that could either result in peace or war, depending on how fragile the egos in the room were. You were sitting between Malleus and the second prince, doing your best to avoid looking at the first prince, who had already been giving you way too much attention for comfort.

Then it happened.

The first prince, ever the picture of grace, rose to speak. As he took his first step forward… THUD. He tripped spectacularly, arms flailing, and landed directly in the lap of the Beastmen Queen. There was a collective gasp, and for a heartbeat, you thought maybe this could be saved—until he opened his mouth.

“Well, I guess I’ve… fallen for you!”

Silence.

The Beastmen Queen's expression froze. The fae delegation collectively facepalmed, and you could practically feel the tension suffocating the room.

And then the Beastmen were on their feet, growling and demanding the immediate removal of the first prince from the line of succession. One of their diplomats, fur bristling with indignation, roared, “This is an insult to our Queen! Remove this fool from the throne!”

Instead of apologizing, as a normal, sane person might have, the first prince, face red with embarrassment, dug himself even deeper. “It was a joke! Can’t you beastmen take a joke? Honestly, I don’t see why everyone’s so sensitive.”

The Beastmen's amger intensified, and you saw the Emperor and Empress—who had been trying desperately to maintain order—sink deeper into their seats, their expressions a mix of horror and resignation. The entire room was teetering on the brink of an international incident.

And then… you spotted it.

A little green wisp, barely visible, flitting through the air right around where the prince had been standing before his magnificent face-plant.

You glanced toward Malleus, who was sitting beside you, looking perfectly composed, save for the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Beside him, Lilia gave you a knowing wink, his mischievous grin unmistakable.

They caused this.

Within moments, the decision was made: the first prince was officially removed as heir to the throne. His younger brother, the second prince—who had always been calm, composed, and infinitely more capable—was declared the new Crown Prince.

It was glorious.

But before you could celebrate, the first prince turned toward you, his expression sour and filled with desperation. "You—" he began, as if about to drag you into his misery.

Not today, prince.

Finally given the chance to reject him properly, you rose from your seat, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh as you faced him.

“I’ve been waiting so long to say this,” you began, crossing your arms and locking eyes with him. “I reject you. Completely. Wholly. Utterly. There is not a single fiber in my being that has ever been remotely interested in you. In fact, the only thing that’s ever kept me in proximity to you was the sheer necessity of survival.”

The first prince’s mouth opened, but you weren’t done.

“Remember all those times you made those comments about my ‘station’ and how ‘lucky’ I was to be considered by you?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t say anything back then because I was too polite, but now? No thanks. Absolutely not. I would rather spend a century in the swamps than a minute more listening to you.”

Sebek, of all people, burst into laughter. “She’s got a point!” he managed between snickers. Lilia was grinning from ear to ear, his eyes twinkling in amusement, and Silver, barely awake, gave a lazy thumbs-up in support.

Malleus, meanwhile, looked positively enchanted. His eyes sparkled as he watched you lay into the former prince, pride and affection written all over his face. When you were done, he leaned toward you, murmuring with a soft smile, “I do love seeing you stand up for yourself.”

The first prince, his face red with humiliation, stammered, “You can’t speak to me like that!”

“Oh, but I just did,” you replied with a sweet smile. “And you know what? It felt amazing.”

With that, the first prince slunk away, his tail metaphorically between his legs, while the room buzzed with whispered laughter. Even the Beastmen, who had been ready to rip the prince to shreds, seemed satisfied.

You had never felt more victorious. Malleus looked at you with such adoration, and Lilia… well, Lilia looked like he was already planning his next round of mischief.

It was a good day.

The festival was going about as smoothly as a cat in a bathtub. You were trying to act like you weren’t hopelessly entangled with the most dangerously attractive fae prince in existence, while also managing to survive the company of your absurd entourage.

Sebek was marching around, loudly reminding anyone within earshot of his unwavering devotion to Lord Malleus. His eyes would dart to you occasionally, like he was calculating whether you were worthy of being in the same airspace as his revered master. Silver, half-asleep, was keeping one lazy yet disturbingly sharp eye on you, while Lilia was in his element—practically vibrating with amusement, like he was waiting for you to trip and fall into a cauldron of chaos.

And then there was the Hero Knight. This guy had shown up uninvited, all shiny armor and noble delusions, insisting he protect you from… something? Yourself? Malleus? Winning too many festival games?

“Are you sure you’re safe?” the Hero Knight asked, sidling up far too close, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve heard stories about these fae festivals. One wrong step, and you’ll be cursed to dance for a hundred years, or worse—turned into a tree.”

You squinted at him. “Right. I’ll make sure to avoid the face-painting booth. Wouldn’t want to end up as a shrub for eternity.”

Malleus, ever patient, simply raised an eyebrow, as if contemplating whether this so-called Hero Knight was worth the oxygen he was breathing. Lilia, meanwhile, was biting his lip to stop from laughing.

But then, amid your rising frustration, you spotted it: the holy grail of festival prizes. The gargoyle plushie.

It wasn’t just any gargoyle plushie. It was perfect. Chunky, with tiny wings and a slightly disgruntled expression, it radiated the exact energy you associated with Malleus—regal, intimidating, yet somehow huggable.

You pointed at it like you’d just discovered a hidden treasure. “I need that.”

Malleus, ever-attentive, followed your gaze and smiled softly. “Do you desire the gargoyle?”

“Obviously! It’s basically you in plushie form,” you said, already walking toward the game stall. “But, you know, it’s rigged. All festival games are.”

Malleus watched you with his trademark elegant amusement. “Perhaps I can—”

“No, no,” you interrupted, raising a hand. “I’m winning this fair and square. No fae magic, no dragon lord intervention. Just pure skill.”

You grabbed the darts, took a deep breath, and began your assault on the rigged game. It wasn’t easy. The darts bounced, the targets mocked you, and you could feel the Hero Knight hovering over your shoulder like a bad itch.

“Are you sure this is wise?” the Hero Knight asked again, his voice dripping with concern. “This feels like a trap. What if they’ve enchanted the darts? What if—”

You whirled on him, fed up. “Listen, Sir Gallant-with-too-much-hair-gel, it’s a dart game. Not an assassination plot. If I can survive dealing with you, I think I can handle a few rigged targets.”

Lilia absolutely lost it. He doubled over, wheezing in laughter, while Silver let out an amused snort. Even Sebek looked like he was struggling not to smirk, though he quickly composed himself.

Malleus, ever regal, simply smiled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I have faith in your abilities, my dear.”

Fueled by that comment—and the knowledge that the Hero Knight was slowly losing what remained of his dignity—you managed to hit the final target. The plushie was yours.

Triumphantly, you grabbed the gargoyle and turned to Malleus. “For you.”

Malleus, to your utter delight, looked genuinely touched. His eyes softened, and that rare, warm smile appeared. “You won this for me?”

“Obviously,” you said, trying not to melt under his gaze. “A prince should have his own gargoyle.”

Silver, who had been observing the entire scene with increasing clarity despite his usual drowsiness, raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”

Sebek, who was still processing the fact that you’d just casually given his lord a gargoyle plushie, grunted. “You… you truly care for Lord Malleus.”

Before you could say anything, the Hero Knight, still floundering, piped up. “Well, I could’ve won that gargoyle too, you know. If you wanted to—”

“Oh, please,” you cut him off, turning to the Knight. “You probably would’ve asked the stall vendor to throw in a manual on ‘How to Not Be a Total Wet Blanket at Festivals.’”

Lilia nearly collapsed. “Oh, please stop—I can’t—” he gasped, clearly having the time of his life.

You waved him off and turned back to Malleus, who was still holding the plushie with the same reverence one might reserve for an ancient relic. “Shall we continue?”

Next up was a couple’s game. You had no intention of participating—until you noticed the Hero Knight gearing up to suggest that he join in to protect you. Oh no. Not today. You grabbed Malleus’ arm and dragged him into the game, completely ignoring the Knight’s sputtering objections.

“It’s… it’s traditionally for couples…” Silver noted, giving you a look that clearly said, I see what’s happening here.

You ignored him too.

The game was simple enough: throw rings onto bottles, but for some reason, the tension was palpable. Probably because you were standing next to one of the most powerful beings in existence, and you’d dragged him into a ridiculous couples’ game in front of his overly protective retinue.

But you won. And to rub salt in the Hero Knight’s ego, you fed Malleus one of the sweets you’d won.

“Y-You!” Sebek spluttered, looking as though you’d just committed the highest treason against decorum. “Feeding Lord Malleus… this… this is too much!”

The Hero Knight, on the other hand, looked utterly baffled. “Are you… are you sure that’s safe? What if the sweets are—”

“I swear, if you don’t stop, I’m going to feed you to the fairies,” you hissed, snapping the sweet in half and popping it into Malleus’ mouth. He smiled as he ate it, clearly enjoying himself.

By the time the fireworks started, you had somehow survived the night without murdering the Hero Knight. The sky exploded in a kaleidoscope of colors, and for a brief moment, it was peaceful.

And then, without thinking, you kissed Malleus.

There was a split second of stunned silence. And then all hell broke loose.

Sebek let out a screech that could rival a banshee. “My Lord! My Lord!” His voice cracked in disbelief, but then—surprisingly—he softened. “If… If Lord Malleus must fall for a human, I am glad it is someone… as devoted as you. My lady.”

You looked at him, touched. “Thank you, Sebek.”

Silver gave a rare smile, looking both amused and resigned. “Congratulations. You’ve managed to pull this off somehow.”

Lilia, predictably, was still dying of laughter, barely able to breathe between fits of wheezing.

And the Hero Knight? He looked like someone had just told him vampires were real and lived next door. “This… I… What…?”

You turned to him with a smile that could cut steel. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. I’ve been trying to tell you for months that I wasn’t interested. I’d rather kiss a gargoyle than you—actually, no. The gargoyle’s got more charm. Better conversation skills too.”

Lilia was full-on cackling now, leaning against a festival stall for support as the Hero Knight’s dignity shriveled up into nothingness.

Malleus, looking absolutely radiant, wrapped an arm around your waist. “Shall we depart? I believe we have a kingdom to return to.”

The next day, you stood with Malleus and his merry band of chaos, bidding farewell to your parents and butler. The Duke was still recovering from the heart attack Malleus had given him when he asked for your hand in courtship.

As you waved to your family, Malleus gently took your hand, leading you toward the carriage that would take you to Briar Valley.

“Well,” you muttered as you glanced back one last time, “this story of mine took a weird turn.”

Lilia, still grinning like a fiend, chimed in. “Oh, just wait until the sequel.”

The last thing you heard as the carriage rolled away was the Hero Knight muttering in the distance, “I could’ve won that gargoyle…”

You smiled. Maybe the webnovel wasn’t such a disaster after all.

Ahh I hope y'all like this one, malleus is one of my favs and I had so much fun writing him.

The Kalim one is being edited because it's a little too somber for me and I wanna make it a little more fun and Azul one is almost fully edited too!

So, here's a poll for the one after these. (They'll all get a turn)

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

[spicymancer]

What was the process like for designing the ActiRangers, their civilian and suited forms? Their suits look so cool, it’s definitely clear you have a lot of familiarity with the genre while also having great ideas on how to innovate and add your own unique elements! Did they go through lots of conceptual iterations, or did they come pretty naturally? Any particular teams that inspired you, like SPD or RPM with their numbered members?

So the Actirangers started out as characters designed for a private little Tokusatsu OC jam I did with some friends! The design I submitted was Pink, (hence why she's kinda the main character of the story)

(Real name and certain background elements redacted for spoiler reasons)

So Pink's suit was the first one designed, hence how she's kinda the most basic of the Rangers. I had just got done watching Birdie Wing and Love After World Domination and thought it would be kinda fun for a golf themed sentai hero.

She was originally going to be ActiRanger 5 before I thought of the "Four/Fore" golf pun.

The rest of the team was then designed from there with each of their sports in mind and some general vibes.

I don't think they went through all that much iteration, though I will say since I tend to draw them in Black and White I sometimes mix up which parts of their suits are their color and which parts are black.

I wanted to give them each some kind of Power Weapon so I stuck to stick sports and also Table Tennis. (I am still weirdly fond of the old Penny Arcade Paint the Line comics)

As far as Power Ranger teams that inspired them, Mighty Morphin' is obviously the biggest inspo. (The Dan Mora run on the Go Go Power Rangers comics is awesome.) Time Force, S.P.D. and RPM were all on my mind as well.

For the Gambit Gang I was struggling to come up with a fun villain theme and eventually figureod out that the enemy to the "Sports" team had to be the "Chess Club". (Insert joke about polycules and board games)

Gray in particular was conceived at this point when I and wanted an Evil Ranger on their side. Chess Knights having a vague horse theme, he obviously had to be Polo! His design draws pretty heavily from Mystic Force's Koragg which is still IMO one of the sickest designs Sentai has ever cooked.

Wow that got a little more long winded than I inteded but I hope y'all enjoyed this little peek behind the curtain of the ActiRanger's development!

Thank you all for enjoying my silly OC comics and doodles!

[masked-and-doomed]

YAAYYYY YAAYYY YAHOO YIPEPEE YAAYY YAYYY YAYYY YAHOO YEEE YAAYY YAHOO YAYY I LOVE IT THANKS YAAYYY YIPEEE YAYY !!

Libraria for that one Conclave fan. Yes there is exactly one, you know who you are, ily.

[bopero]

sunspots

summary - a collection of hamzah’s lack of self control when it comes to you. warnings - swearing, reader is a kpop stan lol note - hai :3 i have been so obsessed with hamzah lately i had to get it out of my system. this is a side blog as im too embarrassed to post on my main fic blog. enjoy and send ideas!

polycule reveal - out of character #100

The podcast starts like any other. Hamzah and Martin sit in the middle of the couch, with Mandy and you on either side of them. It’s the first episode that has you featured in it, and Hamzah is quick to settle any nerves you have with a soft smile and a squeeze of your shoulder. “So, yeah guys. There’s another member in our polycule now, this is Hamzah’s contribution.” Martin points towards you. Hamzah shakes his head, “Alright, bro…”. “Does that mean I get a share of the YouTube channel? Mandy, have they ever given you money?” Mandy clicks her tongue and continues in her deadpan voice, “Um, no. Basically they keep me in their dungeon until they need more views. I’d run away if I were you, honestly.” You pretend to look nervously between Hamzah and Martin, “Honestly I didn’t wanna say it but the basement Hamzah keeps me in is super gross.” “I don’t like this bit. Viewers, please be advised I do not keep my girlfriend in a basement for views. I don’t know about Martin, though.” “Dang it, first episode and they’re already making us look like idiots, Mandy. We need to try harder.”

becoming bts - out of character #104

The episode is you, Hamzah, and Martin. Hamzah is sat obviously much closer to you (which the comments are quick to mention, laughing at the lack of personal space he gives you.) “Yeah, a lot of the Slushies have been asking me if I’m a kpop stan. My ult bias-” Hamzah throws his hands into the air dramatically as he sees you pull a small photocard out of your wallet. A familiar face makes him groan loudly, “Oh, don’t even get me started on this fool! I am sick and tired of seeing him everywhere!” You proudly show off the photocard to the camera despite Hamzah’s childish complaints. Martin leans over to take a look at the photo in your hands, “Bro, what’s the big deal? Is this like challenging your alphaness?” You laugh loudly and Hamzah smiles, betraying the annoyed facade he’s putting on, “No! He just haunts me. She knows when his birthday is and shit and what he ate for breakfast that day, like bro,” he turns to you, pointing at you accusingly, “You don’t ask what I eat for breakfast.” Martin grabs his shoulder, as if to calm him down, “Bro. You know what this means. You have to defend your woman.” Hamzah turns to Martin and before you can question them, they begin singing together and waving their arms in the air, “Shoot dat boy in da head, shoot dat boy in da head!” The episode ends with you deadpanning at the camera as they chant beside you.

don’t play this game at 3 am (not clickbait!!!)

Martin and Hamzah had listened to their viewers, your first feature on the channel being in a Resident Evil gameplay. The comments are filled with ‘i slushed everywhere when i saw yn in the thumbnail’ and ‘hamzah holding onto yn everytime there’s a jumpscare boyy aren’t u supposed to b da man?’ You sit between the two men who both inadvertently curl into you as the creepy aura permeates outside the game as well. Martin dramatically holds onto his head as you shoot bullets into the grossly looking zombies on the screen, “Oh, god they’re gonna eat us out! Quick, grab more ammo!” “Ok, I don’t think they’re gonna do all that-” They both jump as a loud, sharp groan comes from the speaker. Hamzah in particular lets out his signature high-pitched scream. Martin seems to break character and laughs aloud as Hamzah shakes his head in embarrassment, turning away from the camera so it won’t catch the bright blush on his cheeks when you coo at him. “Aww, did you pee yourself?” Martin tries to speak through laughter, “I think you did, dude there’s a wet spot-” Hamzah quickly denies it, “Ok, stop lying to all the slushies, bro, I did not pee myself. I’m sick of this, turn off this trash ass game-” “It’s ok, babe. I’ll protect you, I’m your Leon.” Martin waves a blushing Hamzah over, “Yeah, come on you big baby. It’s not even that scary-wait don’t go in there-“

vacation

Hamzah had convinced you to create your own channel, due to the growing comments begging him to convince you to do so. You hadn’t expected much, but it’d at least be a nice way to share sweet memories between the two of you. The vlog starts with you sat in front of your vanity, as you complete your routine. You talk animatedly about the vacation you’re on with your boyfriend, mentioning the beautiful sights you’ve seen and the delicious food you’ve had so far. You don’t notice but Hamzah walks into the room, quietly sneaking into view when he notices you’re filming. He’s too sweet to scare you on purpose, so he only places the bag of food in front of you and waves towards the camera, “Hiii, it’s me, Hamzah. Remember me?” You push him out of frame, “Ew, get your big head out of here!” The bottom half of his body remains in frame as you look up at him from the seat, “What?! This is how youtubers act behind the camera guys, leave hate comments below, please.” He leans down to be to your level, staring longingly as you get ready. He imagines this is how it feels to watch art being made. You don’t notice his blatant staring, “Tell them how nice it is here.” He’s pulled out of his thoughts with your voice, “Yeah, it’s pretty sweet. Think we’ll bring our kids here cause kids like beaches. Right?” You both seem to forget the camera is even there as you turn to him, “We should take them to Legoland.” He lets out a disbelieving laugh, “Really? That’s the best you got?” You give him a side eye that makes him laugh harder, “Ok, get out, this is my video.” Hamzah only waves at the camera before giving you a gentle kiss on top of your head and leaving. It’s barely in frame, but it’s enough to show the burning warmth he holds for you.

[yellowocaballero]

i very much enjoy the extremely scientific analysis of the naruto verse in which there are three genders, aka naruto, sasuke, and Woman.

AM I WRONG? AM I WRONG? pulls down projection screen and plays powerpoint

Obviously let's give room for nuance. A ton of Naruto characters don't fall into these gender norms. This does predominantly apply to the rampant proliferation of the three-person dynamics that were assigned by the government and dictate your entire life. And, like, society. It does not end. Gender isn't a biological factor in Naruto, it's a social dynamic constructed entirely by your homoerotic tension with other men. And there are so many.

Madara (S), Hashirama (N), Mito (W). Izuna (N) and Tobirama (S) - tragically, Izuna died before women could be invented. Sarutobi (N), Danzo (S, horrifically) - see above about women not being invented yet. Jiraiya (N), Orochimaru (S), Tsunade (W). Yahiko (N), Nagato (S), Konan (W). Obito (N), Kakashi (S), Rin (W). Shisui (N), Itachi (S), that little deeply unimportant girlfriend (W). Um, fucking, Naruto (N), Sasuke (S), Sakura (W). Even - even, fuckin, Rock Lee (N), Neiji (S), Tenten (W).

And what do they all have in common????

(OT3. They're all OT3s. Is what I'm saying).

There is some room for alternative gender expressions here, like being butch or femme. Naruto gender expressions: teacher, otouto, woman who you can't even tell is woman gendered because she has no backstory but you just have to kinda assume that she has a polycule-based backstory where she was Woman Gender. I feel almost as if 2/3rds of the Rookie 9 are liberated from this. InoShikaCho just doesn't fit (their chaotic cousin energy is just too strong and Ino's too much of a lesbian). Hinata's too busy being defined entirely by a different throuple's N to have codependent dynamics with her own N and S (and I'm hesitant to even say that, since I actually don't know if Kiba and Shino have a codependent rivalry - do they?).

I get, like, the reason for all of this. Curse of Hatred. Cycles. N and S Genders being sourced from demigods or something. Narrative parallelism. Sympathy points. It's not the bad guy's fault he's evil, his N and W gendered counterparts died :(. But an extremely strange side-effect of this is that all of the male characters are, like, Just Naruto or Just Sasuke. But the vast majority of the female characters are - like, completely defined by the men in their lives - but also they are more likely to be a unique person. Mito, Sakura, and Rin have actually nothing in common. Writing so sexist it creates more interesting characters?!?!

Unironically, this is why I'm always saying that Sasunaru is the ship of all time, nothing will ever top it, you will NEVER do it like Sasunaru, etc. Every important relationship in the series is meant to evoke Sasunaru. (Notably, none of the explicitly romantic ones. But we're beyond such paltry understandings of the most iconic pairing of all time as fundamentally based in romance. We're operating on a higher level than that). This unbroken chain of toxic yaoi has culminated at the end point of Sasunaru, and it exists to parallel Sasunaru and define their relationship by the dysfunction of generations of tragedy. That's why Naruto has to consciously break the cycle and free them from the generational hate - it was the only way to save Sasuke. This is also why I'm always saying that Sasunaru is the point of Naruto, and that the entirety of Naruto is about Sasunaru. Come back to me when your work has invented new genders in the all-encompassing pursuit of toxic yaoi.

This also means that the only truly gender non-conforming individuals in Naruto are its mightiest heterosexuals: Minato (W) and Kushina (N). Truly insane. The N/S/W configuration is the societal norm, it's bonkers to make a major good-aligned male character a wifeguy. By Naruto standards Minato and Kushina are the only queer couple.

[maitter-of-creepfell]

Ok, so let's list them, my babies which got cancelled cruelly and often without an explanation, with my random commentary:

The Bastard Son & the Devil Himself (Half Bad) (gif) - witchy, dark, gay, big potential for a natural polycule, excellent chemistry among the main three characters, I am so mad.

Castlevania - need I say anything?

Dead Boy Detectives (gif) - supernatural, horror, funny, gay ARE YOU FKING KIDDING ME YOU CAN'T JUST CANCEL IT WE ONLY JUST GOT IT

Dead End: Paranormal Park - a trans main character? Cute animation? Supernatural stuff? Hello???

Fate: The Winx Saga (gif) - so much fun, great acting, good soundtrack, good plot twists, childhood throwback, I want my Winx back.

First Kill - LESBIAN MAIN CHARACTERS in a classic trope of a monster (vampire) x monster (vampire) hunter forbidden love? The acting, at first, might not have been what I'd call great but I think it was more of the script's fault.

I Am Not Okay with This (gif) - dark, horror, teen, another lesbian main character, cute as hell, cancelled at the worst possible scene.

The Imperfects (gif) - a bit fucked up plot-wise, tbf, but all the more fun for it. Cool twists and abilities. And Rhys Nicholson as Dr. Alex Sarkov is hilarious. Also, a spin on an ace succubus. Lol.

Lockwood & Co. (gif) - the books were the slowest of slow burns and had the least reliable narrator of all time (Luce. I'm looking at you. Anthony Lockwood is also looking at you.) and the TV series chose the protagonists SO WELL 😭 I loved it. I want more. So much more.

Mindhunter - psychology of serial killers, this had SO MUCH potential for a tonne of more content.

Sense8 (gif) - different cultures, action, an evil old white man, explosions, martial arts, gayness, transness, LOVE CONQUERS ALL, BITCHES. Technically, it's finished, but it was rushed.

Shadow & Bone (gif) - wonderful fantasy! Try not to cry, cry a lot.

Spinning Out (gif) - actual believable representation of a mental/neurological illness (bipolar disorder) and stunning figure skating shots?! Cancelling it was a criminal offence

And just because I'm in the wailing part of my evening:

Stargate: Universe (gif) - why yes, cancel it at the biggest cliffhanger ever.

Our Flag Means Death - 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[feliformiaboy]

pathways ask answering masterpost

i've gotten approximately 9,000,000,000 asks the past few days, and due to my passion for yapping, i want to answer them all. BUT. i do not want to flood your dashes with yaoi. so here it is. if i leave out your ask it's probably because i don't really have a response for it.

this is so fucking cute i hope you know i spent a solid 30 minutes squealing & kicking my legs & giggling about it with my friends. 47 hyenas have been sent to your home carrying riches and wealth beyond imaginination

this is true and real and i am in agony so eternal about it that i am unable to describe it

also god yeah. zeal was trying to kill me personally with gossip.mp3. when i first heard it i squealed like a baby chihuahua getting punted across a football field

^ the clip they were talking about

thank you. also please please please send me a screenshot of the roblox outfit or i'll die

a robot's neural pathways + sebastian leading painter out of the blacksite (a pathway of sorts.) made it on the 23rd of july this year

pathways

its an aro4aro situation going on

painter loves to doodle it and sebastian frolicking about meadows or whatever whenever its not supervised. unfortunately it usually has to delete those pictures to save hardware space/power/processing times

sebastian only really shows affection towards painter as like. a bit. for a long time. its mostly ironic/ingenuine to him. but once he gets over the resentment and emo backstory angst he starts being a bit more earnest

in all honesty 9 times out of 10 sebastian would be forced to leave painter behind in the blacksite if he ever got a chance to escape. he probably cant work the submarines and would be forced to swim up to the surface (in the water, a thing computers notoriously don't like)

other characters

pandemonium eyefestation evil t4t girlyaoi

goodpeople and painter also would have a weird situationship going on if good people like. was a bit more "conscious" like painter is

i still wholeheartedly believe in eyefestation sebastian painter polycule. the ship name for them is either electrolysis or glaucoma (suggested by my friend. you know who you are.)

every node hunts purely for survival except for pandemonium who hunts for sport. she's a fucking asshole.

also all the nodes are women. just lyk

567 starving hagfishes with malaria just showed up on your doorstep

[lakesparkles]

Posting this already because I have nothing else 😭

It's been a long time without evil polycule art, but don't think these three aren't in my mind all the time. Here are some doodles and, well, headcanons and headcanons.

The only way I see them getting together is way after the end of the anime, after many conversations and physical fights - you can't tell me Gideon and Julie wouldn't spend their free time annoying Matthew just because.

And, even it being the first time they have a relationship like this, with more than two people, it's still a closed one. They don't get jealous when it's each other (eh, most times), but they would never accept the other flirting with anyone out of the three. They're all jealous people in different levels, with Gideon pretty much feeling that Matthew and Julie belong to him (it's not only because I love him that I'll pretend he's not possessive).

Which means that, if another person would ever be part of their relationship, it'll only work if it's with all of them at the same time. So yeah, they're pretty sure this will never happen.

(I have a fanfiction idea with this topic and Ramona, but this is another story)

And the last two slides are just silly things:

They're tired and sleepy <3

And a quick sketch because I realized I made Gideon OOC in the second slide. He doesn't care about Envy.