#the idea of leaving was hard

[queenangst]

do kids these days even understand that calypso would always be percy's biggest what if

[justaz]

merlin falling to his knees after sending arthur out onto the lake and then just. staying there. he was planning on staying until his body gave out from dehydration but he just...never died. he kept waking up to the same sight of the lake, the day around him a bit different. yet he never moved. he remained on the shore of that lake as nature began to claim him, growing over his body as if he were just a stone on the ground. merlin never moves. he is arthur's servant. he'd follow arthur everywhere. if he couldn't...well then, he'll wait right outside. he'll wait right here. he'll wait for arthur.

[cata-strophes]

the dark sbi server had another secret santa this year, this was my gift :}

bit of lore i couldnt add bc it would be ten pages longer:

neapolitan trio are demon brothers, phil is their demon dad. techno is the oldest, and he was taken years ago by evil angels or smth idk, he had his memories supressed and for the longest time thought he was human and joined the war on the angelic forces's side.

tommy and wil are tasked to get him back, and tommy does so first, but he wants some time with his brother who is always busy!! so he pretends to be a human child and follows him around. techno grows fond of him and wants to protect him.

wilbur eventually finds him and tommy refuses to give him victory, so the gig is up!!

techno does spend more time with tommy later on ^-^

[bluerosefox]

Glowing Green Puppy, Tiny Tots, and Damian 'I am not turning into my Father' Wayne.

I've been seeing a few DPxDC Dad!Damian ideas so I'd like to toss my idea into the void of the internet.

Damian is on a lead about a glowing green puppy, that can apparently change size and go through walls, and finally manages to track it down before even his father hears about it. The puppy seemed to be stealing random things too.

He was fully ready to use all the tricks in the book to get the puppy to trust him... and after a few days/weeks he manages to gain its trust.

He just wasn't expecting the puppy to drag him to abandoned warehouse and drop him in front of a few kids that were hiding out in it.

"Oh! Cujo you finally brought your new person over!" says the only red-haired one in the group, and she was holding a baby, as two almost identical toddlers ran over to the excited pupper that began to run around them.

[birbwell]

some animations i still quite like from an unfinished philtom animatic i made in 2022 !

[nerdgirlnarrates]

Even though it's been months since I switched from neurosurgery to internal medicine, I still have a hard time not being angry about the training culture and particularly the sexism of neurosurgery. It wasn't the whole reason I switched, but truthfully it was a significant part of my decision.

I quickly got worn out by constantly being questioned over my family plans. Within minutes of meeting me, attendings and residents felt comfortable lecturing me on the difficulties of having children as a neurosurgeon. One attending even suggested I should ask my co-residents' permission before getting pregnant so as not to inconvenience them. I do not have children and have never indicated if I plan to have any. Truthfully, I do want children, but I would absolutely have foregone that to be a neurosurgeon. I wanted to be a neurosurgeon more than anything. But I was never asked: it was simply assumed that I would want to be a mother first. Purely because I'm a woman, my ambitions were constantly undermined, assumed to be lesser than those of my male peers. Women must want families, therefore women must be less committed. It was inconceivable that I might put my career first. It was impossible to disprove this assumption: what could I have done to demonstrate my commitment more than what I had already done by leading the interest group, taking a research year, doing a sub-I? My interest in neurosurgery would never be viewed the same way my male peers' was, no matter what I did. I would never be viewed as a neurosurgeon in the same way my male peers would be, because I, first and foremost, would be a mother. It turns out women don't even need to have children to be a mother: it is what you essentially are. You can't be allowed to pursue things that might interfere with your potential motherhood.

Furthermore, you are not trusted to know your own ambitions or what might interfere with your motherhood. I am an adult woman who has gone to medical school: I am well aware of what is required in reproduction, pregnancy, and residency, as much as one can be without experiencing it firsthand. And yet, it was always assumed that I had somehow shown up to a neurosurgery sub-I totally ignorant of the demands of the career and of pregnancy. I needed to be enlightened: always by men, often by childless men. Apparently, it was implausible that I could evaluate the situation on my own and come to a decision. I also couldn't be trusted to know what I wanted: if I said I wanted to be a neurosurgeon more than a mother, I was immediately reassured I could still have a family (an interesting flip from the dire warnings issued not five minutes earlier in the conversation). People could not understand my point, which was that I didn't care. I couldn't mean that, because women are fundamentally mothers. I needed to be guided back to my true role.

Because everyone was so confident in their sexist assumptions that I was less committed, I was not offered the same training, guidance, or opportunities as the men. I didn't have projects thrown my way, I didn't get check-ins or advice on my application process, I didn't get opportunities in the OR that my male peers got, I didn't get taught. I once went two whole days on my sub-I without anyone saying a word to me. I would come to work, avoid the senior resident I was warned hated trainees, figure out which OR to go to on my own, scrub in, watch a surgery in complete silence without even the opportunity to cut a knot, then move to the next surgery. How could I possibly become a surgeon in that environment? And this is all to say nothing of the rape jokes, the advice that the best way for a woman to match is to be as hot as possible, listening to my attending advise the male med students on how to get laid, etc.

At a certain point, it became clear it would be incredibly difficult for me to become a neurosurgeon. I wouldn't get research or leadership opportunities, I wouldn't get teaching or feedback, I wouldn't get mentorship, and I wouldn't get respect. I would have to fight tooth and nail for every single piece of my training, and the prospect was just exhausting. Especially when I also really enjoyed internal medicine, where absolutely none of this was happening and I even had attendings telling me I would be good at it (something that didn't happen in neurosurgery until I quit).

I've been told I should get over this, but I don't know how to. I don't know how to stop being mad about how thoroughly sidelined I was for being female. I don't know how to stop being bitter that my intelligence, commitment, and work ethic meant so much less because I'm a woman. I know I made the right decision to switch to internal medicine, and it probably would have been the right decision even if there weren't all these issues with the culture of neurosurgery, but I'm still so angry about how it happened.

[j-k-writes]

The Bronze Targaryen - 6

Summary - The year 115 AC brings about many changes in Westeros.

Warnings - character death, childbirth, general HOTD warnings

The bed was cold when (Y/N) awoke. He reached out to where Rhaenyra was laying, only to find empty sheets. He groaned, burying his face in the pillow. 

“I’m over here.” Rhaenyra said, hearing his movements. He mumbled into the pillow in response. “What was that?” 

(Y/N) turned onto his back, “It is too early for you to be up.” 

Rhaenyra stood, walking over to the bed. “It is nearly midday.” 

“Oh.” 

Rhaenyra sat down next to him on the bed, “Oh.” 

He sat up on his elbows. “Why didn’t you wake me?” 

She reached out, running her fingers through his messy hair. “You looked like you needed sleep.” 

(Y/N) smirked, sitting up further and grabbing Rhaenyra, pulling her onto his lap. She yelped indignantly, smacking him lightly on his chest as he laughed. He pressed a kiss to her lips, and she smiled against his mouth. “I think we both need sleep.” 

“That is not what I meant and you know it.” 

He pulled back, “I am fine.” 

“You have not been sleeping well,” Rhaenyra said. “You have been stressed since your cousins left.” 

“I am just worried about my grandsire. He is not well.” 

“And Gunthor.” 

(Y/N) shook his head, “Do not worry about him.” Rhaenyra frowned, opening her mouth but before she could speak (Y/N) captured her lips in his. He pulled away, resting his forehead against Rhaenyra’s. “If you worry about him, I must worry about him. And I do not wish to, I want to just be here with you.” 

Rhaneyra frowned, but nodded nonetheless. She untangled their legs, standing up and grabbing (Y/N)’s hand. “You should eat.” 

He broke his fast as Rhaenyra’s handmaidens moved in and out of the room, helping Rhaenyra properly dress and leaving clothes out for (Y/N). Rhaenyra helped (Y/N) dress when she was finished. They did not leave the room after they were finished, they had not been asked to court since their wedding. (Y/N) did not mind the break from the court, allowing him to spend his days in the yard and with Harwin, checking on the knight’s wounds. Rhaenyra did not share his indifference, feeling like once again her father was neglecting her role as heir. She refused to listen to (Y/N) when he tried to soothe her worries, but (Y/N) could not blame her. The two heirs were in different situations and (Y/N) had only words to offer in ways of comfort. 

Ser Erryk entered the room, drawing the attention of the two teens. “Prince Daemon is here to see you both.” 

Rhaenrya looked to (Y/N) who nodded, before speaking, “Let him in.”

(Y/N) frowned at his father’s demeanor as he entered the room, waiting for the door to close behind him before opening his mouth to speak. “A raven came for you, (Y/N).” 

(Y/N) gestured for his father to hand it over, and as his father placed the letter in his hand he said, “You must leave for Runestone at once.” 

(Y/N)’s heart dropped, and he opened the parchment. 

Prince (Y/N), 

It is with a heavy heart that I write to you. Your grandsire, Lord Yorbert, Lord of Runestone, passed during the hour of the owl. He went peacefully, and he is with your ancestors now. I am aware you are in the first days of marriage, but with your grandsire’s passing you are now the Lord of Runestone. 

Maester Pate 

“Your cousins have not yet reached the Vale.” Daemon spoke. “If you take Vermithor you will get there to claim your seat before they even cross The Trident.” 

“Claim your seat?” Rhaenyra looked between the two men, and (Y/N) handed her the letter. She read it quickly, eyes widening as she took in the words. 

“You must claim your seat.” 

“Uncle his grandsire has just died,” Rhaenyra objected. “Let him mourn, the politics of the realm-” 

“This is not about the politics of the realm.” Daemon spat, turning to (Y/N). “This is about taking your rightful place before Gunthor learns about your grandsire’s death.” 

Rhaenyra frowned, “(Y/N) is the rightful heir, Gunthor would not be so bold as to try to undermine that.” 

Daemon gave his son a pointed look, and (Y/N) sighed letting his hand fall into his hands. He did not know his cousin’s intentions, he did not trust him, but a simple feeling did not prove anything. In fact he barely knew his cousin, having only met him half a dozen times in his youth, but the unfamiliarity only fuled his distrust.

He rubbed his face, groaning, “I cannot take that chance. I must leave for Runestone.” 

Daemon nodded, “I will make sure your things are packed.” 

Daemon turned on his heel, walking out of the room. Rhaenyra turned to her husband as soon as the doors were shut. “I am coming with you.” 

“You must stay here-” 

“You are my husband.” Rhaenyra stood, standing directly in front of where (Y/N) was sitting. “I should be at your side.” 

(Y/N) sighed, reaching his hand out and Rhaenyra gently grasped it. He looked at Rhaenyra, “You are the heir to the Iron Throne. You are already uncertain of your place in this court. I do not know how long I will be at Runestone, but you cannot afford to be away from court for too long, not now.” 

Rhaenyra scoffed, and (Y/N) continued, standing up from his seat, “I will fly to Runestone on Vermithor. I will secure my seat, our future child’s seat, and then when that business is done I will return to you.” 

Rhaenyra cupped his cheek, bringing their foreheads together. “Take what is yours, and then return to me.”

“Lord Royce.” 

(Y/N) looked up from the books he was looking over, placing down his quill. The boy standing at the door looked between (Y/N) and Maester Pate nervously, holding a piece of parchment in his hand.(Y/N) recognized him as the young page that had been attending to Maester Pate in the rookery. 

Maester Pate cleared his throat, “Well, what is it?” 

“There is a raven for Lord Royce.” 

“Give it here.” (Y/N) waved the boy over. The boy placed the rolled up parchment on the desk. “What is your name?” 

“Jasper, my lord. I mean- my prince.” 

(Y/N) chuckled, “My lord is fine, thank you, Jasper.” 

Jasper bowed, practically tripping over himself to run out of the room. (Y/N) picked the parchment up between two fingers, it bore the seal of House Targaryen. He’d received many ravens from Kingslanding in his absence, many from his father, the most from Rhaenyra. 

He kept them both updated on the situation in Runestone. Not that there was much to update, Gunthor was still playing an active role in the governance of the keep, much to (Y/N)’s frustration. He had no real proof that the man was up to anything, other than his odd actions during his grandsire’s final months and the queasy feeling that settled in (Y/N)’s gut anytime the man opened his mouth. 

He picked his dagger up off the table, carefully prying off the wax seal before unrolling the parchment and reading the letter. 

Valzȳrys, 

I hope you are well, and that Runestone is prospering. 

I have been quite ill these past few weeks, the maesters could determine no cause. Until last week. 

My maids were dressing me when Elinda pointed out that my dress did not lace as tightly as it had before, and that I had not bled since before the wedding. Immediately the maester was called, and it is Grand Maester Mellos opinion that I am with child. He estimates that I am in my second moon of pregnancy, and my father already suspects the babe will be a boy.

I apologize for not writing of the news sooner, but to tell the truth when I first heard the news, and even now, I am not sure how I feel. I am overjoyed at the idea of a child with the best features of us both, a future dragonrider, and the future heir to The Iron Throne. But my mother died on the birthing bed, and suffered long before then through countless unsuccessful births. I do not wish to die in a puddle of my own blood as she did. But despite my fears, I am happy with the news, as surprising as it is, and I hope that you share my feelings. 

I think of you every night, and miss your presence by my side. 

Olvie jorrāelagon, 

Rhaenyra 

(Y/N) read the parchment three times, dissecting every word written by his wife. He looked up at where Maester Pate was still standing. “Bring me my cousin.” 

“Gunthor?” 

“Gerold, Pate.” 

The maester bowed, exiting the room, and (Y/N) sighed leaning back in his chair. He resigned himself to getting no more work done today, and started to put the books away. When Gerold entered (Y/N) did not speak, he simply handed him the letter and watched his cousin’s face as he took in its contents. 

“I wish to return to Kingslanding.” (Y/N) said when it was clear his cousin was finished. 

“Of course.” Gerold said. “I do not blame you.” 

(Y/N) bit his lip, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Will you not be returning?” Gerold asked, taking in his younger cousin’s tense posture. 

“What do you think of Gunthor?” (Y/N) asked, deciding it was better to be blunt than to beat around the bush. Especially if he wanted to make his decision. 

Gerold paused, opening his mouth and closing it multiple times as if he was struggling to articulate his answer. 

“Speak honestly, cousin. I will not fault you for your opinions.” 

His cousin took a deep breath, “I do not know what to think.” 

(Y/N) motioned for him to elaborate. 

“I had not seen him in years until your grandsire fell ill. I wanted to write to you to tell you of his illness, since as his chosen heir it would’ve been your place to take over the responsibilities of Runestone. But your cousin Gunthor urged me not to disturb you.” 

(Y/N) nodded, “Can I trust you, Gerold?” 

“Of course.” 

“I fear Gunthor may have ambitions above his station. I cannot prove it but-” He paused, unsure of how to continue.

“You do not feel comfortable leaving Runestone unsure of his intentions.” His cousin finished, and (Y/N) nodded. 

“You must understand,” (Y/N) said. “I wish to see my wife, and help her through these times but I cannot in good conscience leave Runestone when my position is not yet secure.” 

Gunthor frowned, “What will you do then?” 

(Y/N) groaned, dropping his head in his hands. “Can I not send him away and be done with it all?” 

“Sending him away will not stop him,” Gerold said. “It may just incentivise him further. It is easier to keep him close where you can watch him and those who may support him than to send him away to move in secret.” 

(Y/N) sighed, looking up at his cousin and taking in his expression. Defeated, he leaned back in his chair, “I cannot leave can I?” 

“I cannot tell you what to do, (Y/N).” 

“Just-” (Y/N) closed his eyes, frustrated with the entire situation. He longed for Rhaenyra, wishing to be there to see her through her pregnancy. “Just be honest, Gerold.” 

“No, you cannot leave.” 

(Y/N) nodded, reaching for a blank piece of parchment and his quill. “Thank you for your counsel, cousin. Tell Maester Pate I wish to send a raven to Kingslanding with my decision.” 

Rhaenyra would have to understand, securing his position was for the good of their future family. Their second child will inherit Runestone after him, and (Y/N) would stay for as long as he needed to ensure that.

Rhaenyra’s labor had begun only hours after (Y/N) had set foot in Kingslanding. Viserys and Daemon had been thrilled at the news, but Rhaenyra’s fears of the birthing bed had not at all ebbed throughout the many moons of her pregnancy. (Y/N)’s absence from court during those moons had not helped her trepidation, but as the labors started (Y/N) assured her he would pick her over any babe. 

(Y/N) was not allowed in the birthing room despite his protests, after a particularly rough scream tore itself from Rhaenyra’s throat (Y/N) had pulled his dagger on one of the guards, which subsequently caused his father to drag him even further away from the room. 

His father and Ser Harwin were watching the young Lord of Runestone as Rhaenyra’s screams and curses echoed throughout the halls. Daemon was silent, wincing at his nieces wails every so often, while Harwin had taken to whispering words of comfort to (Y/N). 

“She is strong.” Harwin said, hand resting softly yet reassuringly on (Y/N)’s shoulder. 

“Cunt!” (Y/N) chuckled softly at Rhaenyra’s words, and Harwin smiled. 

“See.” Harwin said, “She is doing well.” 

Footsteps sounded down the hallway, (Y/N) looked over to see King Viserys and Queen Alicent approaching the group of men. Alicent was holding her own swollen stomach as she approached and (Y/N) was reminded that she too was soon headed toward the birthing bed once again. Alicent frowned at Harwin, and (Y/N) narrowed his eyes at the young queen. 

“Ser Harwin,” Alicent addressed the knight, “Does Rhaenyra need her sworn protector-” 

“I wished him to be here.” (Y/N) cut her off, and she looked at him, frowning. 

“Of course.” 

Viserys paid the three of them no mind, he looked exhausted. (Y/N) had heard from both Rhaenyra and Daemon about the king’s deteriorating health these past moons. The letter had given no justice to truly how bad Viserys looked, although he still insisted on acting as if he was alright. 

“How is she?” 

“Well,” (Y/N) replied, “I think. They would not let me in.” 

Viserys gave him a sympathetic look, as the cry of a babe captured all of their attention. (Y/N) pushed himself quickly off the wall rushing into the room, Daemon and Viserys following closely behind him. 

Rhaenyra lied in bed, face pale and covered in sweat, her normally perfectly styled hair was messy and sticking to her skin. She lifted her head at the sound of people entering the room, smiling and relaxing at the sight of her husband. The maester handed the babe, wrapped in a deep brown cloth, with a mop of dark curls peeking out, to (Y/N). 

“A boy, your grace.” 

(Y/N) stared silently at the babe, still crying although slowly but surely calming, (Y/N) looked up to Rhaenyra, who the midwife was attending to. He traced his son's features gently, fearful of hurting the precious bundle. He had not understood the fear his father spoke of until the babe had been placed into his arms, and he remembered that Daemon had been no older than he was now when (Y/N) was born. 

“He’s perfect.” 

Viserys and Daemon came up next to him, and (Y/N) remembered he was holding the future heir to the Iron Throne. He gently handed the babe to his uncle, and he smiled, allowing his brother to peer at their grandson over his shoulder. “What is his name?” 

(Y/N) looked to Rhaenyra, “Whatever you wish.” 

Viserys handed the babe off to Alicent, whose frown deepened. Daemon spoke before Rhaenyra, “He should have a name fit for a king.” 

(Y/N) shot his father a dirty look, already knowing that his father was implying his son should not have a Vale-like name. “Rhaenyra labored to bring our son into this world, she shall pick whatever name she wishes.” 

“Jacaerys.” Rhaenyra said, motioning for the babe to be brought to her. (Y/N) took the babe from Alicent, her expression making the Lord of Runestone uneasy. He handed him to Rhaenyra, pressing an affectionate kiss to the top of her head, and Rhaenyra laid down head resting on (Y/N)’s side. “His name will be Jacaerys Royce.” 

Alicent did not linger around any longer than she needed to, exiting the room as soon as attention was on Rhaenyra. Viserys gave his daughter a kiss on the forehead before following after his wife. Daemon lingered the longest, looking adoringly at his grandson. (Y/N) had feared his father’s reaction to his son’s more Vale-like features, but Daemon did not seem to mind. 

“Congratulations.” Daemon smiled, pressing a soft kiss to both of their cheeks before taking his own leave. “I will fetch someone to clean the sheets and help you dress.” 

Rhaenyra nodded her thanks before the two new parents were left on their lonesome. Rhaenyra, wincing, sat up further, handing the bundle off to (Y/N). (Y/N) smiled down at Jacaerys, tensing when the babe opened his eyes, big and brown, but instead of breaking back into sobs he just stared up at his father. (Y/N) reached down, smiling softly as the babe grabbed his finger placing it in his mouth. 

“I think he is hungry.” (Y/N) chuckled. “Shall I fetch a wet nurse?” 

Rhaenyra nodded, and (Y/N) handed the babe back to her. He opened the door, looking at Ser Harwin who was still waiting outside the door. 

“Would you like to meet him?” 

“Him?” Harwin asked, and (Y/N) nodded. 

“It is a boy.” (Y/N) smiled, “I am going to fetch a wetnurse, but I am sure Rhaenyra would be delighted to introduce him to you.” 

As Harwin gingerly stepped into the room, (Y/N) tracked down a wetnurse. As he returned to the chambers, he took a seat by Harwin and Rhaenyra’s side as Jacaerys was handed off to the nurse. As soon as the nurse was out of earshot Rhaenyra turned to her husband. 

“How long are you staying?” 

(Y/N) frowned, “Nyra-” 

“I will not beg you to stay, (Y/N). I know you will not.” Rhaenyra said. 

“That is not fair. You know-” 

“The complexities of politics are not lost on me, (Y/N).” She was obviously tired from her labors, but (Y/N) could tell he was not getting out of this conversation. “But what of our son? Will he grow up without you because you were too busy infighting with your cousin?” 

“I am doing this for our son.” 

Rhaenyra sighed, the fight going out of her at his comment. “Yes, I know- I just- I want Jace to grow up with a father.” 

“He will.” (Y/N) promised. “But not until I am sure Gunthor will not undermine me at the first opportunity. I will return to you, I promise. And Harwin will be here watching over you both to make up for what I am missing.” 

He turned to Harwin, who nodded a silent promise to the prince. (Y/N) took his hand in thanks. 

“Did you see Alicent’s face when she held him?” Rhaenyra looked across the room longingly at where their son was now asleep in a cradle, the wetnurse long gone. “I am sure she is already spreading her poison.” 

“Fuck Alicent.” (Y/N) spat, causing both Rhaenyra and Harwin to laugh. “She can spread whatever rumors she wishes, they will go nowhere. Our son is a Royce, he has Vale-blood, that fact alone will be enough to quell her whisperings.” 

Harwin squeezed his hand in reassurance, bringing it up to press a soft kiss to its back. “I have missed you, (Y/N).” 

(Y/N) smiled at the knight, before turning to his wife. “I do wish I could stay with you three.” 

Rhaenyra reached for (Y/N). “We will pray for your success, ñuha jorrāelagon, and await your triumphiant return to us."

---

Translations -

Valzȳrys - Husband

Olvie jorrāelagon - Much love

Ñuha jorrāelagon - My love

[orobty]

Let them be sofftttt

[tadc-harlequin-au]

If this was a game, I think a fun gameplay mechanic would be like a friendship meter. The friendship meter is affected by how you interacted with others. And if you have a higher friendship meter with people, they'd be more willing to help you. For example, companions with higher friendship do more damage when pomni takes them with her. Or another example is because ragathas kinda like the shopkeeper if she has a higher friendship her prices will be cheaper but if her friendship level is low they'll be really expensive. You can raise the friendship meter by going on side quests with the others or using positive dialog, and negative dialog makes the meter go down. Idk I just thought that it might be fun.

I like this idea. And you know what, FUCK IT.

AN AU OF AN AU!!!!!!! WHICH IS ALSO CANON-DIVERGENT FROM THE HARLEQUIN AU LMAO I TRULY AM AMAZING /j

THE AMAZING DIGITAL SOULS-LIKE!

I CAN"T seem to avoid the concept of "What if the Harlequin AU was a game instead", THE UNIVERSE KEEPS PUSHING IT TO MY FACE LIKE MY YOUNGER SIBLINGS WHEN THEY SEE A COLORFUL THUMBNAIL sighs....... back to my Shadow of the Colossus boss osts bullshit..... (affectionate)

The Amazing Digital Souls-like is a Non-canon compliant Alternate Universe (that's also a game rather than an actual fantasy world) of the Harlequin AU, where a stylized souls-like VR game called "The Marvelous Mechanical Harlequin" came out at some point during the rise of souls-like gaming.

Waking up in a well-lit main lounge of a manor, the new, amnesiac Harlequin player is met by "Bubble", a Butler Blimp, and "Caine" The Puppetmaster (whom is VERY VERY LOUD btw), claiming to be the only one who can "help her" in her current predicament.

As to be expected, she's very much on the verge of a mental breakdown, barely keeping it together while attempting to make sense of the world around her. (seriously, who thought pitching this game who sucks people inside of it to the public was a good idea??)

The Puppetmaster then proceeds to infodump everything the Harlequin player should know:

That this is a souls-like game;

she is a Harlequin Puppet in the middle of a TERRIFYING ROBOT apocalypse!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SCARYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and that she has to go on a boss-rush type of playthrough IF she EVER wanted to have a chance at getting out!

He'll also be the game's official guide, to which the player is having trouble digesting all this information (not surprising at all.)

When asked what's her name, she can't remember and begins crying onto the floor again (lmao skill issue). The Puppetmaster then picks one at the top of his head; "Pomni", which she reluctantly takes because it's better than having nothing.

From there on out, Pomni undergoes through a series of hardships as she dies (in a video game!!!!!!!!!!!!! MIND YOU, SHE DOES NOT DIE IN REAL LIFE!!!!) over and over again, attempting to defeat various bosses, who are the NPCs. She gains more and more confidence in the battles, but she's still quite the nervous wreck otherwise.

But hey, at least she's getting quite close to Caine, right? He's so nice, and sweet, and very caring of her, careful to reassure her that she's doing a great job with the tasks. There's also a deja vu in her head that's telling her this is somehow familiar, and his presence is a comfort to her.

Surely, everything's all fine and dandy, right?

... right?

Little did this Harlequin know, there is a DARK secret to all this.

And that is the fact that the late bosses aren't just regular boss AIs, they're OTHER PLAYERS trapped in a boss's body, for some goddamn reason. She finds this out when she accidentally does a good chunk of damage to a boss's heart, making them able to speak to her for a bit before going back to being hostile.

With that in mind, Pomni has to DELIBERATELY hit their very durable hearts, if she wants them to be reform as normal players as the hearts imprisoned the ACTUAL avatars of the players.

The Puppetmaster is taken aback, but seems to let Pomni do her way reluctantly.

Once they are freed however, they become Pomni's allies, but they seem... unnerved by the Puppetmaster and tend to avoid him. Every time Pomni asks them why, they're just quiet and looking away. Otherwise, they seem to be grateful and helpful to Pomni about anything else.

This of course, raises Pomni's suspicions of the game's advisor, but she still needs to comply with the rules of this world and thus, has to keep throwing herself to the wolves over and over again.

By the time Pomni frees the Maddened Princess of the Theater, The Puppetmaster declares her ready to face with THE FINAL BIG BAD HIMSELF, The Patriarch of Puppets, an "evil entity who transformed everyone into horrible Puppet monsters". Everyone scoffs silently.

Pomni, according to him, must defeat the Patriarch as the final step to video game freedom.

But by the time Pomni arrives to the final arena, The Patriarch attempts to have a conversation, and seems to be struggling with himself.

The Patriarch explains that his boss body contains "Able", someone who was close to Pomni in real life, who entered in the hopes of making his brother leave the confines of the game. He was able to remember details due to his admin access. Caine only agreed to leave IF he was capable of defeating all the bosses without using his admin abilities, "just like old times".

It was only until his late game run when he figured out (after a heated argument) that the original AI gamemaster, the very heart piece on Caine's chest, took over Caine and was making him act like a manipulative monster. When he tried to pry the heart piece away, he got sealed in the Patriarch's body as punishment.

The Puppetmaster may be unable to revoke his admin access, but it can be sealed off.

Able's been stuck ever since, but still secretly had a bit of access to the game codes if he did it on the low, an oversight by The Puppetmaster, and thus, managed to gain some semblance of control over the Patriarch's otherwise very hostile and bloodthirsty AI just in time for him to talk to Pomni.

The Puppetmaster denies these accusations, and advises Pomni not to believe the boss's manipulative words.

Pomni now has two choices.

>Kill The Patriarch of Puppets, or >face The Puppetmaster.

"Kill the Patriarch of Puppets" ending:

if Pomni decided to not believe Able, he loses his control over The Patriarch and the final boss fight begins. Once Pomni is victorious, The Puppetmaster then congratulates Pomni, but reveals a secret: That there was never an exit.

Pomni simply passed the final test, and now, she's ready to become a boss herself. Try as she might, she cannot escape this and she becomes "The Mechanical Jester of the Circus", the new final boss of the game. All her movesets are reconfigured to become the boss' attacks.

Able resets to normal, now forever trapped to be The Patriarch as The Puppetmaster corrects the previous oversight. The others are reset to become bosses again.

A new player joins, unaware of the horrors that awaits them.

Sad ending :((( How very tragic....

"Face the Puppetmaster" ending:

if Pomni decided to believe Able, a boss fight still ensues but this time, The Patriarch of Puppets is only the Penultimate boss instead of the final stretch. Pomni frees Able, who reforms into his original 'card deck' avatar and regains administrative access to the game.

The Puppetmaster accuses Pomni of breaking his heart and breaking game rules, and thus, has to battle with him IN ONE GO. There is no more reset button for her.

But Able comes in clutch and ensures her that HE will be the one to make sure Pomni can come back as many times as possible to finish the fight and free Caine.

Once Pomni is victorious, The gamemaster heart piece breaks, and Caine is knocked out. All the blocked out memories return to the players.

(Able's design belongs to sm-baby btw!!!!)

Apparently, the VR game was revolutionary. Players could physically enter the world and be immersed in the game's astounding graphics, creative boss rushes and open world exploration aspect. It did VERY well initially, but not well enough to stand the test of time.

Player numbers eventually dissipated when the brothers moved on to greener pastures (so the game didn't have updates), and the AI gamemaster was heartbroken for essentially being abandoned. As a result, any new players that entered the game could not escape, simply because they all forgot they had access to the menu from the very beginning. lmfao

When Caine rediscovered the game and wanted to replay it for old time's sake, the same fate befell him. The gamemaster recognized one of his creators, and took over his entirety, becoming The Puppetmaster.

Able followed suit, wanting to let Caine out but he was sealed into the Patriarch's body before he could succeed.

Pomni, who's actual name is "Penelope", was Caine's significant other in real life and got worried that Caine wasn't responding to her calls while she was on a business trip. She tried contacting Able, no response either.

When she finally arrived to their apartment, The Marvelous Mechanical Harlequin game was on, and recognizing it to be the brothers' old souls-like game, she put on the headset. And from there on out, the story begins.

The other players are able to forgive Caine's actions, and not pass lawsuits once they are able to go back to the real world. Now, with the gamemaster gone, the game has become somewhat active again, though this time, it was the others (and additional new people) hopping in back into the game just to hang out and maybe do some DLC boss rushes implemented by the brothers.

It's pretty epic, y'all. Happy ending yippie!!!!!!!!!

Now if you'll all excuse me... OWIEEEEEEEEEEEEE MY ARM AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

[eternity-death]

Sunday thought of the day:

Sunday likes to leave traces of himself on you.

He’ll adorn your neck with beautiful jewelry, classy and not too gaudy, made with precious stones that were imported from other star systems. Your favorite dress was commissioned by him, hand-made with the softest fabrics and finest stitching (Sunday reviews the stitching himself. The seamsters who worked on the apparel can only stand there with bone-chilling anticipation as Sunday silently— meticulously— scrutinizes the sewing. He only wants the best for his darling, after all). He’s bought some aromatic oils for you too. When you get ready in the morning, he takes his time massaging it into your wrists and the pulse points of your neck (you don’t seem to realize it’s the same scent that he uses).

They are all symbols of affiliation— a claim over you that remains unspoken. Despite this, others are not ignorant to the tacit message that reflects off of the glimmering stones in your necklace, or the luster of the silks that swathe you: you are involved with Sunday, and one should remain circumspect in their interactions with you.

[elllisaaa]

the new hoon x bookworm reader post made a new thought pop up in my mind seconds after i read it…. eli why are you so good at writing this and HIM overall i can’t bare the emotions anymore 🥺

hoon fucking you against a bookshelf in the public library 😳 you came just to return some books and pick up new ones but he got bored from waiting for so long for you to choose new titles… just imagining his quiet voice whispering the filthiest things at your ear while you bite on his shoulder to repress your moans 😔 (and what if he’s wearing those glasses? you know which ones)

i think the reason is just that i need him so bad i'm projecting all the things i want him to do to me lmaoo i love everything that comes out of your mind whenever it comes to him i could pay you for sending me these asks, i'm not kidding.

SUNGHOON is always willing to drive you to the library because as stated before, he's obsessed with you and your undying love for books. he finds it so cute how you always come up with a little list of the books you want to pick up to not get distracted and spend hours between the shelves.

you always tell him that he can stay in the car and that you're not going to take long, but sunghoon insists on coming with you every time. except that today, you didn't make a list because you didn't have the time. which means you will be wandering around to get your books for a long time. you feel a little bad for your boyfriend this time because he had things to do today - he even still has his glasses on - but you can't just choose your books in two minutes, right ?

sunghoon follows you everywhere you want to go, walking slowly behind you. and his eyes cannot help falling onto your ass with every step you take, your cute little skirt moving along with the swaying of your hips. and he's starting to get frustrated because he didn't expect to spend his afternoon only able to look at you and not touch you.

he knows it's wrong, but he also knows that it's what you like. so when you walk into an alley where there is no one and that is far enough from everything else, sunghoon corners you against the nearest bookshelf, pressing his whole body against your back. you can feel his hot breath against your ear, and his semi hard on against your ass. "hoon ? what are you doing ?" - "you're taking too long doll, so let me have my fun too okay ?"

you can only nod weakly because how could you say no to your sweet boyfriend ? his hands quickly drag from your waist to your asscheeks, kneeding the flesh under your skirt. he adored them, it made it so easy for him to fuck you everywhere he wanted. "you're so good to me baby, always wearing your little skirts for me, right ?" - "yeah, know you like them." - "that's right, you know i do. so you're going to let me fuck you there ?" - "yes, please…"

that was all sunghoon needed to turn you around and kiss you hungrily, smearing your lip gloss but he couldn't care less when you were pulling him even closer to you. he tried to get away to take off his glasses but you grabbed his hands to stop him : "no ! keep them on, you look sexy with them." a smirk played on his lips immediately, he loved when you were so blunt about your desires. sunghoon grabbed you by your thighs, lifting you from the ground, his boner pressing on your wet cunt still covered by your panties. "yeah ? i should wear them more often if it means you'll let me fuck you everywhere then."

and you did let him fuck you, let him wrap your legs around his waist, push your underwear to the side and ram his cock into you. sunghoon is grabbing the bookshelf behind you like his life depends on it and making it shake, and it doesn't matter if it alerts someone because he knows you like the thought of being watched. you're holding on him tight, head thrown back as you struggle to repress your moans.

"you're such a slut, letting me fuck where everyone could see you. but that's what you like, yeah ?" "fuck, your little cunt is squeezing me everytime someone walks by." "you hear how wet you are doll ? you're so fucking dirty."

sunghoon keeps whispering the nastiest things in your ears, and everytime a word leaves his mouth, it becomes harder to quiet down your noises. you can't even answer him because you feel like you might cry out some begs for him to make you cum. so you bite his shoulder instead, soaking his neat white shirt with your saliva. "you're making a mess doll, everybody's gonna know what we did if you keep biting me like that." but in the end, sunghoon's loves it, and when he paints your cunt white with his cum, he struggles to keep his voice down too. and he loves it even more when you go to register your books, with his cum staining your panties, your hair still a little messy, and your gloss on his lips stretched out with a proud grin.

[royalarchivist]

Jaiden: Man, so you don't think you'll ever hatch? You're gonna be an Egg forever? Tiny little boiled Egg, you knock on him it's not hollow.

Richarlyson: I like being a little egg tbh 0_0

Jaiden: That's fair. You don't wanna be a dragon? I mean... If you ever hatched, I think– it would just take so long to get used to.

Richarlyson: I mean, I am a bit scared imagine if I hatch and all my siblings are cool eggs and I am like one of those zombie horse things.

Jaiden: No, you're a dragon! You're all dragons! We know that for certain, that's like the only thing we know about you guys, are your origins, is that you're a dragon. 🐉

Jaiden: ...But maybe not anymore, 'cuz you're boiled. [Laughs] Little boiled Richas! 🥚

[ Full Transcript ↓ ]

—

Jaiden: Man, so you don't think you'll ever hatch? You're gonna be an Egg forever? Tiny little boiled Egg, you knock on him it's- it's not hollow.

Richarlyson: I like being a little egg tbh 0_0

Jaiden: "You like being a little Egg, tbh"? That's fair. You don't wanna be a dragon? I mean... If you ever hatched, I- I think– it would just take so long to get used to.

Richarlyson: I mean, I am a bit scared imagine if I hatch and–

Jaiden: I wonder what that feeling is like.

Richarlyson: –all my siblings are cool eggs and I am like one of those zombie horse things.

Jaiden: No, you're a dragon! You're all dragons! We know that for certain, that's like the only thing we know about you guys, are your origins, is that you're a dragon. But maybe not anymore, 'cuz you're boiled. [Laughs] Little boiled Richas!

[While talking about whether Richarlyson is the youngest Egg or not]

Richarlyson: ami Pom had a lot of things 0_0 and she is very mature

Jaiden: Hm, that's true.

Richarlyson: I have a brazilian shirt AND A DREAM >:D

Jaiden: Yeah!!! [She does a dance emote] Yeah!

Richarlyson: I mean we all are like that no? Clothes and a dream

Jaiden: [She lies down next to him] You know how to say it, old wise boiled Richas. [Laughs] The century-old boiled Egg.

Richarlyson: I thanketh you, my wisdom shall travel the world

Jaiden: You should- you should do a TED Talk! You should- there should be a TED Talk night on the Island, and it should be only you, and you do the presentation, and we listen and we clap. Since you're so full of wisdom and boiled eggs.

Richarlyson: KKKKKKKKKKKK OMG

Jaiden: [Laughs] That could be fun though! Like, presentation night, where we all just have a fun time making random presentations and speeches. That'd be cute.

Jaiden: [Reading chat] "The TEGG Talk"? Whoa, the TEGG Talk! That's awesome! That's crazy.

[ragnarokhound]

Trick or Treat! Thank you for sharing all your wonderful writing!!

Happy Halloween! Thank you so much for reading, I'm so happy you've enjoyed! <3 (holds jaytim up like the potato: i just think they're neat)

Okay this response got long so it's going under a cut, haha, enjoy!!

The curse is cruel. "You really think that you're a better Robin?" Jason sneers. His blood coats Jason's fist. "A better Robin?" Tim echoes through bloody teeth.

"That's what I said, pretender. Haven't you got any words of your own? You have to steal those from me too?" "Steal? From me too?" He gasps. The questions burn his mouth like acid, frustration and rage held prisoner by his traitorous tongue. Jason's brow furrows, then smooths in the space of an instant. "Pathetic," Jason taunts, abandoning confusion for disgust and disappointment. In a sharp, painful crack of his fist, the world goes black before Tim can agree. *** "How long has it been?" Jason says. It's been years. Smoke curls between the gaps in his cupped hands as the brief burst of flame dies to an ember, glowing vermillion at the end of his cigarette. "Long," Tim answers with a sigh. He can't even sign his own words, his hands always twisting into shapes first held by someone else's mouth. By the last person who spoke to him. The railing of the fire escape is icy beneath his elbows. He should have worn a thicker jacket, but he didn't have time tonight. Jason is leaving in the morning, and Tim wanted to see him before he goes. This new thing between them, this friendship on the cusp of something else— is fragile and hard-won. Tim wants to nurture it, to see if the warmth roiling under the surface can be coaxed to blazing life. Jason shuts his lighter with a snap. His shoulder is warm against Tim's. Tim watches him breathe in poison, and envies the poison. "And no one's figured it out? Who did this to you?" Tim rolls his eyes. "Figured it out," he restates flatly. Of course he knows who did this to him. Of course Bruce and the rest know. The who was easy. Fae and demons aren't subtle, and they aren't exactly commonplace. It makes for a short list to dig through. Jason grins, cherry-red and laughing at him. "Right, right. I mean, you ever figure out how to fix it? How to get your own words back? Yes or no," he tacks on helpfully. Only seldom does Jason remember to do that, to give Tim more options to choose from. It's not that he doesn't care, or that he isn't careful with his words. He just doesn't have to be. He's always had a knack for guessing what Tim means on the first try. Now that he isn't trying to punish Tim for using Jason's words like their his own. Like what he'd done with Robin.

Tim used to resent it, that of all the people in the world to guess what he's feeling, Jason Todd could do it best. Used to. Tim looks away. "Fix it," he murmurs. "Yes." Not that it matters. Jason cocks his head. His cigarette burns between his fingers, half-forgotten. "Why the fuck haven't you, then? If it were me—" Jason cuts himself off with a self-conscious laugh. "Ah, forget it. I'm sure you'd love to if you could, right?" Tim's eyes go wide. Jason's never said that to him before. One word of three that make the key. Tim knows what he feels. He knows how to break it. "And give the son of a bitch responsible a kiss in the teeth for good measure," Jason continues, oblivious to the effect of his words. Tim seizes Jason's arm, ignoring how he flinches. Hope is fleeting enough as it is. "Wha—" "Love to," Tim interrupts, urgent, heart tripping in his chest. "You..." He swallows, his throat closing up, not sure if he can say the last word. Not because of any curse, but because it's— it's too much. It's too bold. It won't work. So why not try? Jason stares at him, waiting for him to speak. "...kiss," he whispers. Tim begs him to understand. Jason raises his eyebrows. "...kiss?" Jason echoes softly, his voice thick. He cups the back of Tim's head in his free hand. "You want to kiss me, babybird?" He's relaxed a fraction, and Tim can tell he still doesn't get it. The one time he doesn't understand the full depth of Tim's meaning, and it had to be now. "Well, why didn't you say so?" Before Tim can express just how unimpressed he is by— Jason kisses him. He tastes like smoke and a hint of mint, and like skin and teeth and tongue. He licks into Tim's mouth when he gasps, and swallows every sound he makes. Like it's not enough to own Tim's words; he needs to own the rest of him as well. Tim doesn't even know if it will work. What makes a love true, anyway? When you've bled and fought for it, tooth and nail? When you didn't even want it at first, but you know, like it was inevitable, that you can't live anymore without it squeezing your heart in its fist? When magic cannot bind you anymore, because you don't belong wholly to yourself alone. When you've chosen to be beholden. When it was never a choice at all. The autumn air is freezing, but Jason's hands are searing hot on Tim's face, burning his cheeks with the shape of his fingers. Tim doesn't remember tucking his hands under Jason's jacket, or finding the broad stretch of his shoulderblades with his palms. But when he grazes the skin at the back of his neck, just above Jason's shirt collar, he shivers in Tim's grip. Jason pulls away abruptly, and Tim protests. "Do you want—" Jason started to ask. "Jason," Tim huffs, breathless. "Why'd you stop?" It rings in the air between them, clear as a bell. They both freeze. "...Tim?" Jason asks slowly. "Did you just—" "Jason," Tim says again, disbelieving. Then wondering. It's the first word that's belonged solely to him in years. The first word that's his. "Jason."

(For the trick or treat ask game! Send me a trick or treat ask and I'll share jaytim WIP snippets, or new 3-sentence -paragraph fics, etc :^) through the 31st!)

[felsicveins]

Surrogate sister Clay

[didderd]

Commission for @skelekins! :3

Tis the start of an rp between us where Crack's au died, and he was all that was left, and he ends up in the Omega Timeline after being found by a specific colorful skeleton. :>

(Comms not open atm, but may be opening soon.)

[martyrbat]

[ID: Bruce Wayne and Minhkhoa Khan breaking up in the rain. Bruce is in normal civilian clothes while Khoa has a white cloak on and a mask that hides his eyes. Khoa persuades, “We'll start in a small city in Southeast Asia, and systematically dismantle its criminal underworld. Out all the corrupt politicians. And then we'll go to the next, and the next. We'll build a high-tech base of operations that moves with us. We'll live well off the coffers of the gangs we dismantle. We'll expand from there. In time, maybe we could even tackle a city like Gotham. Not like boys, but like men at the peak of our skills.” Bruce simply tells him, “No.” Minhkhoa points an accusatory finger at him as his angry response has been edited to be a post by @/egirlbutternubs that reads, “But babe you love being gaslit.” END ID]