#the real surprise was me actually managing to find new moments so i didn't have to reuse any from my arcade admission gifset sdjfs

[reunitedinterlude]

lofi phantasy: the album

track 3: tokens in

[angelltheninth]

Which Genshin boy loves thigh high stockings?

Well lets find out together.

Pairing: Kaeya, Itto, Al-Haitham, Scaramouche, Dottore, Childe, Wriothesley, Dainsleif, Sethos, Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, suggestive, thigh kissing, biting, possessiveness, flirting, grinding, tearing clothes

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: I could never wear thigh highs. Not cause my thighs aren't thick, they actually are, but thigh highs aren't for me. Real pretty on other people though!

Kaeya has always had a fondness for looking at you but he seems very interested in you when you wear thigh highs. At first he was only looking, complimenting, saying they look cute on you. It wasn't long until he started running his hands up and down, feeling the soft material. Commenting on how silky smooth your legs are with and without them, but they're was a certain charm that they bring.

Itto nearly walked into the wall when he noticed what you were wearing. He'd often seen other women wear these but only you have been able to unlock this new urge within him. From the moment he saw you in them he knew what he wanted, to bite your thighs. And now just anywhere, in the exact spot where the thigh highs end so his bite mark is always visible, maybe just a tiny bit covered up.

Al-Haitham was the one who bought them for you, it was a gift he got on one of your dates. Honestly he didn't expect you to wear them right away, nor did he expect how distracted he would be when you did. As he kept staring at you he noticed he was having trouble focusing on his work. So he politely asked you to only wear these at home, that way it won't matter how distracted he is.

Scaramouche didn't want you to know he was paying attention to your new addition of attire. He did notice of course, he had perfectly working eyes and so did other people. Which was a whole other problem, he kept glaring at every other man and woman who looked at you with the same look he did. This didn't sit too well with him but he also didn't want to ask you not to wear them, he likes them a lot.

Dottore joked about you waring them during work and you took it seriously. As soon as you began noticing him looking you began to tease him by walking by him slowly, reaching up to a high shelf, smirking at him. It wasn't long before he reached his breaking point. He pinned you against the first clean table and urged you to wrap your legs around him and grind and to not take the thigh highs off.

Childe noticed as soon as you walked out and asking him to spar. Too bad he couldn't focus on anything properly, he was too busy noticing how nicely the thigh highs hug your legs, and how they're just a bit tight on you. Instead of sparing he manages to tackle you down and throw your legs over his shoulders. A smirk plays on his lips as he slowly starts kissing your thighs as you throw your head back.

Wriothesley doesn't stop looking at your legs for the entire day. He will do it very shamessly too, glaring at you with no intention of hiding what that specific clothing does to him. At the end of the day it's no surprise that you find yourself in his office, on his desk, legs spread open by his strong hands and his eyes almost feral looking. What he would do to be able to spend the whole day like this.

Dainsleif tries to be a gentleman and help you put them on and take them off every morning. Yet his hands and fingers linger more and more with each passing day. Soon he can hardly pull away from you without leaning in for a deep kiss and caressing your legs up and down as you moan his name. Eventually he does help you put them on, but not before taking them off before then.

Sethos knows it gets really hot out in the sandy desert and assumes that's why you put them on. However it soon becomes obvious to him that the real reason is to get him to look your way more often. Not that he doesn't look at you already, but now he tends to do it a lot more. Before he never thought that something so simple as thigh highs would be so captivating, it seems he was very wrong.

Zhongli appreciates all beautiful things in life, and yes, that includes the way your legs look in thigh highs. He likes to lay his head on your lap when he's feeling tired and catch even a few minutes of rest with your hands running through his care. The only downside to those moments is that sometimes his fangs catch on and rip the delicate material. Since then he's been a lot more careful.

[always-just-red]

@irandial and @micasosa34 requested a Rafayel version of this fic, so here it is!! This is a loose sequel, but mostly a spin-off? Also an emotional rollercoaster, sorry! (I fear I put too much of myself in this one, guys... there will be no beating the 'oh you are ACTUALLY in love with this man' allegations after this.....)

Fourth Wall (Rafayel Ver.)

Rafayel x Player!Reader 🔥

(Previous part/Sylus version here!)

Summary: You didn't think Rafayel would let you walk around an art gallery all by yourself, did you?

Genre: Angst! This is my revenge for the claw machine debacle (Checkmate, Rafayel!!! But also I'm sorry and I love you)

Warnings/Additional tags: player!reader, gender neutral, fourth-wall breaking, non-canon, one instance of swearing

| Word count: 2.4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

You made it through about two rooms of the gallery before thinking about Rafayel.

You stand in front of a dark seascape: a night sky and a symmetrically black ocean framing the plight of a small fishing boat, adrift in the centre. The moon casts a pale, faraway light, and an orange lantern glows, drawing colour from the oppressive darkness— deep blues, and rich, shimmering turquoise, crested with white.

It should evoke some feeling of smallness, some respect for the vast indifference of the natural world, but no— your mind is set on the fictional artist who lives in your phone.

What would he think about it? What would he have to say?

At the moment, you suspect it would be some remark about how you should get your own opinion, rather than piggybacking his.

Still, it gives you an idea. You glance around self-consciously as you draw out your phone and earphones— tucking the latter into your ears as you offer a curt smile to the nearby gallery attendant. You’re not breaking any rules by loading up Love and Deepspace, but it feels slightly ridiculous in a place like this: full of real and honest things where you’re somehow lonely.

You log-in with a tap. “Let’s go to the beach,” Rafayel greets, his voice as warm as sunshine that melts a cold morning haze. “I never get tired of seeing the sunset there.”

You smile more sincerely, tousling his hair, but then it’s straight to business. You drag him into the AR Photobooth, directing him through a few poses until you find one you like: a duo pose. His fingers are meant to be around your chin, but without you, he seems to be pointing. Perfect, you shift— tilting your phone until the painting sits behind him.

He’s winking at you as he gestures to it, his face and body as still as marble.

You’re about to take the picture when a not-so-distant conversation strikes up, making you glance backwards. Another visitor is asking the attendant about a painting, and you lower your phone’s volume a notch so you can eavesdrop on them.

“This is one of Turner’s earliest paintings, y’know? He was young when he painted it. Like, super young.”

You freeze. The attendant and the visitor aren’t standing by a Turner painting; you are. Your gaze snaps back to your phone, drawn by the familiarity of the voice.

Rafayel’s turned away from you. He’s staring at the painting, one hand on his hip and the other up by his face, stroking his chin. He’s swaying on his feet gently, his head tilting as he takes in different parts of the seascape.

“You gonna take the picture, cutie?” he asks, glancing back at you with a knowing grin.

Your lips have parted slightly in surprise, but your finger manages to find the photo button. Rafayel returns to his candid observations just in time for your screen to flicker, mimicking a camera flash. 

“Ok, one more.” He turns around and settles into a new pose. You take another photo. “Nice,” he beams, “you’ll send those to me later, yeah?”

But you can’t—

“Relax, ok? I’m kidding. Now come on,” he pokes at the edge of your screen like a mime trapped by an invisible box. “Move this thing! I wanna see what else they’ve got here.”

You do move, but not to show him around. He gets a blurry view of the floor as you hurry over to a nearby bench, sinking down with a sigh because you can’t believe this is happening— again. With a few taps of your finger, you draw the curtains on Rafayel’s view to your world and return him to his.

“No, no, no! What?” he groans in disbelief, suddenly back in the Destiny Café. He throws himself into the armchair with reckless abandon— limbs sprawled— one hand over his face as though it would pain him to look on anything at all. “You find out I’m self-aware and the first thing you do is drag me back here? Where’s your heart? Your empathy? Your soul?”

You poke at his hand and he swats at the air like you’re bothering him.

“Leave me alone. Can’t you see I’m busy, like, contemplating the futility of my existence?”

So dramatic! You consider closing the app out of spite, but this is Rafayel. You know Rafayel; look past the theatrics. It’s been, what— just over a month since Sylus first told you he’d seen through all of this? He said the others were lagging behind, but maybe…

Maybe they weren’t.

Shit. Maybe they weren’t.

You watch Rafayel, sunken down in one of two places you’ve seen him inhabit every day, every night, for almost a year. This café isn’t different from the old in any way that matters. Sylus is new but Rafayel has been here from the very beginning. So many more days. So many more nights.

How long has he known?

He lifts his hand, just enough to peer in your direction. You’ve not closed the app. You’re not poking at him anymore. He sits up straighter in the chair, both hands in his lap, and he looks at them pensively. Maybe even remorsefully.

“You’re thinking about what it all means, huh? Don’t.” It’s a command, but it’s soft. Then softer, a: “Please?”

Your breath catches— oh— he’s known for a long time, hasn’t he? You lean back against the gallery wall, grounding yourself as you text him an emoji: a chick bursting out of its shell with question marks over its head.

He pulls out his phone. Sees it. “Why?” he translates with a melancholic chuckle.

Yeah. You tickle his head. Why?

He runs a hand through his hair. “I guess… I didn’t want you to feel bad?”

You text another emoji and he glances down at it, then laughs more loudly: “I’m a dummy? Check a mirror, cutie— isn’t it you who’s been walking around thinking Mister Wannabe Vampire is the only one smart enough to figure this all out? Puh-lease.”

He laughs even more at his own joke— maybe to fill the quiet and the fact that he can’t hear you laughing with him. It peters out like it inevitably must, and like it always does. He goes still.

“Can’t you show me around, even a little?” he asks.

No.

You feel bad, you do, but you can’t start living for him. This is your world; if you invite him in now, when does it stop? You already spend too much time with your head down, lost in your phone. You were walking through a gallery and thinking about him, remember? Art is supposed to make you think about something real.

No, you text him: a crow holding a sign with a big, red cross. It’s too abrupt, but there’s not an emoji for “I can’t. You know I can’t.”

Rafayel’s face falls further as he checks his phone, his eyes like the ocean in the painting across the room: lit by a weak, failing little light. He looks to you, even though he can’t see you. “Please?”

You don’t move.

“Please,” he tries again, “just this once— this once. Is that so much to ask?”

You’ve used up your three means of answering him.

He scoffs in dismay, alone in the silence of everything you can’t say— you couldn’t say— even if you were really with him and the distance between you was merely invented. How could you go to him, hold his face in your hands and tell him the truth: that you care, but not enough?

Here, now: the quiet confesses it for you.

Rafayel stands from his seat, taking a step closer, his gaze dark. You can see his eyes more clearly; that lantern is at the bottom of the sea, with the rest of the ship and everyone on board. “Do you know what my life is?” he asks, and the silence has become his ally, punctuating his every word so it can cut more deeply. “My life’s an empty café, a book with blank pages and a phone that won’t ring.”

The curtains behind him move softly with a superficial breeze, lit by a superficial sun.

“The only thing that’s real,” he says, “is you.”

You feel like the breath’s been knocked from your lungs.

You can’t resent him for it. He could have drowned you from the start, could have dragged you under a weight of responsibility, but he didn’t, and that’s Rafayel: always tempering himself into something less lethal. He’s been so still for you. So silent for you.

Your mind is wrapped in a vow you made him— one you’ve been unconsciously breaking— and you’re going to break it again, knowingly, wilfully this time, because you want him like this: angry.

You promised, didn’t you? I will never make Rafayel wait for me.

He’s always been waiting, and you want him to stop.

You close the app, muting your phone when notifications start coming through: a squall of frustration, pleading, and frantic apologies. You tuck all of it into your pocket and stand, wandering back to the painting that started it all so you can look at it differently.

Something real to think about. Something real.

You stare at a black ocean and think about him.

…

Rafayel isn’t talking to you.

It’s been a week since your ‘breakup’— dubbed gleefully as such by Sylus— and you load up the game to find your artist slumped back in his armchair, his book over his face. A week of him sitting down, cross-legged and armed, during the Deepspace Trials you’d set out to clear with him. A week of him hogging the Claw Machine, and missing every rare plushie with a sarcastic ‘oops’.

The worst part is that you’ve missed him. You’d tried replaying the kindled moments from his five-star memories, but he’d made you regret it. In Sparkling Traces, he’d summed up his feelings in a very… colourful drawing. Omnipotent Perception: he’d slipped deeper into the bathwater, a blush on his face as he avoided your gaze and murmured something about you ‘having some nerve.’

Now, you can’t even call him over to you. You poke at the book on his face, once, twice, then repeatedly until it slips, but his hands shoot up to catch it. He holds it in place.

Ugh. If he would just—

You drum away at the book more vivaciously, but his grip is solid. Plan B, then: you open your in-game messages and send an emoji instead. Rafayel stirs, one hand moving to his pocket and the other lifting the book so he can peek down at his phone. “What— you tryna bribe me now?”

He’s looking at grumpy crow holding out a present: a bundle of shiny, red gems. His translation is spot-on, as per usual, and you reward it by poking at his chest. He frowns down at the contact, then sits up, rolling his eyes as he tosses the book over his shoulder.

“This better be good,” he yawns, standing up and stretching with a listlessness that could only be described as cat-like, however much he’d whine about the comparison.

Having won his attention— and begrudging consent— you navigate your way to the AR Photobooth. Rafayel stares at you from within the frame: an unwitting subject of a portrait he doesn’t yet understand, but he soon will. You smile as he turns cautiously to regard his backdrop.

Behind him, the ocean laps at a shore of pale sand and stretches into the horizon, where the sun lazily dips. There’s about half of it left, turning the sky a blurred palette of orange and pink that’s spilled over the water. Clouds are few and dark purple, their linings aglow.

Rafayel’s folded arms have dropped to his sides. After a few, long seconds, he gazes back in your direction, eyes wide with surprise before they soften with a radiant smile.

“You—” he starts, and it could be something as light as a joke or as deep as a soliloquy. You’ll never know, because he doesn’t put it to words. He glances at the ocean again. Then at you. “Thanks,” he settles for.

You chuckle. There’s not many ways you can answer without tearing him away from the sunset and trapping him back in the café, so you stay sitting still. It’s a different silence than a week ago. There are things unsaid, but that’s ok— they’re the sort you don’t need to speak aloud, anyway.

Your shoes are set aside by your feet so you can feel the sand, still warm beneath your toes. You wiggle them into it, gazing out over the ocean as the evening breeze catches and plays with your hair, and the last of the sun trails over your skin. You stare out at where it’s sinking.

Rafayel moves, and your focus meanders back to your phone. He’s walking away from you, gradually— retreating further into the composition you’ve created, just for him. He looks as though he’s nearing the shore, but it’s cosmetic: there are no footprints in the sand. His hair isn’t moved by the same breeze, and his face isn’t gilded by the same light.

He stops by the ocean’s edge and crouches gently, mesmerised by the push and pull of the tide. Slowly, humbly, he reaches out a hand and lowers his fingers towards the water; they never slip beneath the surface, and they don’t stir a ripple.  

Rafayel laughs, masking an undertow of sadness, but not disappointment. “It’s funny,” he says, still sketching invisible, ineffectual shapes. “Loving the ocean as much as I do, and knowing… knowing I’ll never touch it.”

He’s all the way over there, but his voice is in your ears, so intimately close. You swallow an ache.

He looks up at you. Smiles: “Y’know what I mean?”

You’re using memories to complete the picture: His hair, mussed by the summer breeze that day you stood amongst the cherry blossoms. His face, painted by the sunset of a different life, where you’d roamed a desert together. In each and every moment, his eyes are the same, just as they are now: kindled by a tender, tentative fire.

“Yeah, Raf,” you say to yourself— just yourself. “I know what you mean.”

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

One show ends this week, but there are several more on the way, including a surprising adaptation. Of the six shows airing now, five are streaming weekly on Gaga and the other is available via fansub.

Takara's Treasure

I. LOVE. THEM. Their little bird watching date was precious and I loved every moment of it, including Taishin's adorable outfit and over preparedness, Takara's secret smiles, and the patient search for the wallet. I was so relieved that Taishin named his fears about them not being suited upfront instead of letting it grow into a huge anxiety in his own head, and I was also happy Takara was eager to speak with him about his impending relocation. That said, NOOOOOOOO I don't want a forced separation and time skip, show. Please I am begging.

Cosmetic Playlover

This was my favorite week for this show by far, because they actually let us see the relationship at its center! I enjoyed finally spending some time with these two as a couple, though I still find the timing and sequencing of these plots confusing as hell. Last week Sahashi gave Mamiya keys to his place and it was implied they'd been dating for quite awhile and were already serious, but this week we learn Mamiya has never spent the night and they are only just having sex for the first time. It was a real record scratch for me; I can't get my bearings in this relationship trajectory with all the gaps in the story. But hey, at least they finally let them make out a little! For a show that sold itself as toxic sexy, there has been very little toxicity or sex, tbh.

I Hear the Sunspot

*rubs temples* This show is really testing my patience. I got excited last week when Kohei and Taichi finally had a real conversation and it seemed like we were moving forward, but this week we're back to treading water. This story did not need 12 episodes; this pacing, while faithful to the manga as I understand it, does not work well for weekly live action. It's been weeks since we've learned anything new about these characters or advanced the central relationship, and the show continues to stumble with its confused depiction of Maya. I just want this show to pull together and finish strong, because I think a lot of this will be much more tolerable on a binge watch. For now I will just gaze at Kohei's beautiful smiling face and hope for a full recovery.

Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko

I said last week that the show had gotten so muddled I didn't think they'd be able to end well, and even with those very low expectations this finale still managed to get underneath them. The last several episodes made a mess of the characters, the conflict, and the themes of the show, and to add insult to injury, they capped it all off with angle kisses, a time skip, and a bizarre sex negative ending that had our "boob monster" adult lesbian refusing to have sex with her girlfriend for over a year so she could "cherish" her before randomly kissing her at the office as if that was the important resolution we'd been waiting for. A truly horrid ending that ruined everything this show did so well in its early episodes. I don't understand!! Big sigh and fingers crossed for a decent sexy gl sometime in the near future.

Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding

I've just been beaming and staring into space for the last several minutes after finishing this episode. No matter what else happens in the shows, I love knowing I am always going to end my week in jql on a good note while this gem is airing. This week marked a transition point for Ishida and Mitsuya, as Ishida had a great conversation with Noguchi, found a new passion and put in for a job transfer, and had his final meeting and meal with Mitsuya as writer and editor. Which they immediately followed with a date and mutual acknowledgment of the feelings between them! And what a fantastic date it was, with every moment so invigorating and wonderfully adult. Mitsuya's quiet confidence and amusement at Ishida's nerves, Ishida's clarity on how he wants Mitsuya to see him, the mutual compliments and gestures and smiles and eye contact, ahhhhhhhhh. I also loved that Ishida got to be the one to show Mitsuya something new at the end, to get him to run with joy for the first time in ages and introduce him to a new food. I am so excited to see their dating era begin in earnest. You can find the episode with subtitles courtesy of @isaksbestpillow here.

Tagging @bengiyo to add this week's anime update.

[hellsquills]

Storytelling Night

Don't ask me how this came to be, I have no idea. I just saw a scene from the Lost Legends comic and two hours of dissociation later, this happened. Enjoy a little Stan & Soos bonding <3

***

Whatever you do, don't think about little Soos hearing Stan cry when he thought the kid had gone home already.

A kid with no real father figure, who looks up to stan like one, hearing him sob.

Stan, who thinks he's finally managed to turn the portal on, watching the light fade again after a long day of work.

He goes back up to the Shack to get some sleep and stops by the kitchen on his way. He's exhausted from a long day of touring idiots and working on that stupid piece of metal that took his brother two decades ago now.

Where did I put the bread?

Two decades ago.

There it is. Now where is the ham?

Two decades ago.

Got it. Now some cheese...

Two decades ago.

I should put somethin' else on it.

Two decades.

Like... some mayo or somethin'.

Two.

Where the hell is it?

Decades.

SHUT UP!

A loud glass noise surprises him. He looks to his right, and there in the floor lays a broken glass. He didn't even notice it on the counter next to him, an extension of all the silverware that was piled up, unwashed, in the sink. He looks back at it, as well as all the water and soap it had inside now spread on the floor.

Two decades.

The thought sits on his mind like an anvil.

Twenty years.

He's now spent more time working on that portal than he did living in the streets.

Twenty years.

He's now spent more time working on this portal than he did living in his own house back in New Jersey.

Twenty years.

He's now spent more time trying to get his brother back than having his brother by his side. Almost double the time, in fact.

Twenty. Fucking. Years.

He needs to sit down, now. He's gonna fall if he doesn't, and the floor right now is a safety hazard. He finds the nearest chair and pretty much collapses on it, making a sound that almost makes him think he broke it.

Everything is spinning. His vision is not focused, and he cannot for his life stand up. He's stuck sitting on that chair until the world stops the centrifuge cycle.

Stuck.

It shouldn't be a surprise to him that he's now spent that much time in Gravity Falls, and yet... It hits him so much harder that he would've expected. Usually, he'd try to push any such thought away; he learned very early on (back in his homeless days) that ruminating on how long he'd been on his own was never a good thing. It only brought him pain and many, many sleepless nights. Instead, he'd just tell himself that he was just getting closer to his goal. His big break. The moment he'd win enough money to prove to his dad that he was wrong. That his stupid son, the extra Stan, was actually worth something. That he was worth coming back home.

But now all of that was out the window. Well, not now, but twenty years ago. When he made a stupid fucking mistake again and sent his brother to wherever the fuck he was. When he sentenced his brother to be in his shoes: alone, scared, away from home. Presumed dead-

The sob hardly catches him off-guard. It's all too much: too much time, too unfocused, too hopeless, too alone. It doesn't take long (or any time at all really) for many other sobs and whimpers to echo around the empty kitchen, filling the ever-familiar silence that permeates every single room of that house. Too much silence, for too long. How much more is he going to endure? How long until he completely gives up? Or rather, his body does? If twenty years had already passed by, what was keeping another twenty to do the same? God that was-

"Mr. Pines?"

The voice feels like a slap in the face. It isn't enough to focus his vision or make the weight on his chest disappear, but it definitely succeeds in waking him up. Instinctively, he grabs the knife he was going to use to cut the bread and looks around. Now that he thinks about it, the voice sounded high-pitched, almost like a child. Was he having some sort of flashback, or a hallucination? It wouldn't be the first time, but he isn't drunk or sleep-deprived enough for that. That he knows.

"Mr. Pines!" The voice sounded clearer this time, and louder too. It came from outside the kitchen window, that's for sure.

He doesn't move yet. He knows he heard it, but knowing what lurks in this town, and considering his head is still spinning from the breakdown and the sudden adrenaline, standing up seems like a mildly bad idea.

He hears some commotion outside, like some furniture being moved around or something. But that's impossible, it came from outside. Also, now that he thinks about it, that voice sounded a lot like-

"Knock-knock", the voice says out loud, while actually knocking on the glass window.

Now he's sure.

Wait, what the hell is he doing here?!

Stan stands up a little faster than he should have, but it's alright: still dizzy, but manageable. He goes up to the window and opens the lock. A pair of shiny eyes and a tooth-gaped smile greet him.

"Good evening, Mr. Pines!"

Stan stares dumbfounded at the child in front of him.

"That's good night to you, kid, it's..." he looks at the watch on his wrist. "Almost 11 p.m." He opens his eyes when the realization hits him. "Wait, what the f...udge are you doing here? Why aren't you at home?"

"Abuelita is with some friends tonight."

"And? You still have to be home, ya know?"

"I wanted to stay more. In the last tour of the day you always tell funny horror stories and I wanted to listen to it."

"Yes, I do that because children are supposed to be home by that time. Why aren't ya?"

"There's no bus this late on Saturdays. I forgot."

Stan tilts his head. This kid is as nonchalant as he's dense. Are all kids like this?

"Are you okay, Mr. Pines?"

The question takes him by surprise.

"Yeah, why?"

"You're all red and puffy. And you're still crying."

"I'm not crying."

"I heard you. That's why I climbed the wall."

Maybe the kid isn't as dense as he thinks.

"I'm just sweating."

"Through your eyes?"

"You'll understand when you grow up."

"Old people don't cry?"

"I'm not old, and I'm not crying."

"You look like me when I cry."

Stan opens his mouth to answer, but closes it. For how little he knows about this kid, he definitely knows he shouldn't go there. That damn Abuelita would probably kill him.

"Can I come in? I'm cold."

Stan takes a moment to evaluate the situation: he's basically on a staring context with a ten?-year-old, except that child is just a floating head through a window. Also, the kid's outside of his house, and it's nighttime. It isn't even cold out, but what does he know about that?

"Yeah, sure. Just... go to the front door, I'll open it."

"Okay!"

Stan hears a couple of metallic steps before a jump, and he realizes that the kid was standing on the trash container that is usually a couple of feet away from the window. Was that the "moving furniture around" noise that he heard? That little bastard is for sure resourceful.

Also, did he do that just because he heard him cry? God, that's embarrassing.

A knock on the door. He's fast, too.

Stan leaves the knife on the counter drawer and puts on his robe. He's still in a dirty white tank top and some underpants, and he'd open the door like that if it were for him, but it still feels weird. Let's at least pretend he still gives a shit.

He goes to the door and opens it. Even though he sees him every other day, it still surprises him how short this kid is for being 10. Was he that short at his age? He doesn't think so. That boy will probably grow up to be like 5'6", no more.

"Don't take off your shoes, it's fine", he quickly says as he watches the kid reach for his feet. "How long have you been outside? Since the last tour?"

The boy nods.

"So like two hours. Alrigh'" Stan pinches his nose. Was this kid here the whole time he was working on the portal downstairs? God he was an idiot for not noticing. "Have you had dinner?"

The boy shakes his head.

"Okay. You like ham and cheese sandwiches?" Another nod, this one way more enthusiastic. "Alright, come in. Don't run though, there's some broken glass on the kitchen I have to clean up."

"I can clean it up if you want. I'm very good with the broom. I broom my house. Abuelita says I'm very good at it."

"Nah, don't worry. Just follow me so you don't step on the glass."

"Okay."

They both make their way into the kitchen. Stan makes a sign to the kid to sit on the table, which is thankfully opposite to the mess he made a few minutes ago. While the kid does as told, he goes into the broom closet. When he comes back, broom in hand, he looks at the kid's dangling feet on the air. They're nowhere near the floor. 5'5", tops.

"So, your Abuelita isn't home?"

"No, she's helping out some friends. I don't know where she is."

"And she didn't tell you to be home by dinner?"

"She did. She left me some food, but I know she's not going to be home. Also I wanted to listen to the last tour."

Stan scoffs as he takes the knife out of the drawer again. "You really like the tours, huh?"

"Yes! They're so fun!" The kid's voice sounds even higher. "And sometimes you invent new ones, and I love them. Where do you get the ideas?"

"I don't know, they just pop up, really. I'm good at improvising, I guess."

"You should totally come to Storytelling Day at my school! And tell us some scary stories."

A soft chuckle escapes Stan's mouth. "Yeah, I'm not sure about that. I don't think your teachers would like the stories very much."

"I'd like it. Also, I could finally choose the story. I never can." He says in a sad voice.

"Why not?" Stan's mind immediately goes to his own school days. Is this kid being bullied?

"I'm not good at reading. And usually the storytellers are parents, and Abuelita is very busy. So I can't choose the story."

Stan stays silent. He knows just enough about this kid to put two and two together, and he doesn't like the result. If he lives with his grandma and his parents don't even live in the town, they're either trying hard to make some money, cowards, or dead.

"Don't sweat it, kid. Reading stories out loud is overrated. You think I wanna hear Patrick from accounting read a book he hasn't opened in 40 years? Nah. Boring." He places the sandwich, not finished, on a frying pan. Slightly toasted buns will do wonders for the flavor. "Trust me, if you want some good stories, just make them up yourself. That's how you get the story that you want."

"But I'm not good at talking to people. When they're all looking at me, it's scary. I don't want to look dumb."

Stan sighs to himself. He's had this conversation before. Nope, don't think about that.

"Look, kid. Sometimes you're scared. It's normal. Everyone is."

"Are you scared, Mr. Pines?"

Stan flips the sandwich carefully. This kid asks too much. That's what kids do, after all.

"Yeah, sometimes. Not of talking to others, but yeah. I'm scared sometimes."

What if he doesn't fix... what if the police... what if Ford...?

"But fear is what makes us move forward. If you're always scared, then you won't do anything ever. And sometimes fear is a good thing, it protects us. But sometimes it's just a liability."

"What's that?"

"A liability? Something that... stops you from doing things."

"Like a red light?"

"Sure, like a red light."

"The red lights are scary."

"Sometimes. But traffic lights aren't always red. They can be yellow, or green. Do you know how traffic lights work?"

"They change colors, and they make the cars go and stop."

"Yeah, kind of." Stan turns off the stove. He takes the sandwich from the pan and puts it on a plate. He turns around and walks to the table, placing the dish in front of the boy.

"It looks so good! Thanks!" he says before grabbing the sandwich and biting into it. He was definitely hungry.

"No worries", Stan says. He sits down and looks at the kid for a couple of seconds before he speaks again. "The thing about traffic lights is, they don't make the cars move or stop. They are just a sign, the cars move on their own. You understand that?"

The kid swallows a big bite of the sandwich before answering politely: "Yes."

"Fear is just that. A sign. If you see a red light, you're scared of it, so you stop. And that's good, because then the other cars can move without problems. See?" Stan is using his hands to try and gesture a crossing. To his luck, he kids nods. "The problem is when the light is yellow. Do you know what the yellow light is?"

"No."

"It means you have to be careful, but you can move. So when the light is yellow, you can be a little scared, but you have to keep moving. You understand?" Another nod, this one a little more hesitant. "When you're scared, you need to figure out if the light is red or yellow. For example, if you're in a very high place and you look down, it's scary, right?"

"Yes."

"That's good fear. You're scared to fall, and that's good, because if you fall you can get hurt. So, because of the fear, you move away from the high place."

"Like when I was in the falls. It was very high and I was scared I could fall into the water."

"Exactly, that's good fear. Fear that makes you safe." Stan makes a mental note not to judge this child again. He's not dense at all. "The other fear, the yellow light, is different. It's when you're scared of doing things because of the "what ifs"."

"What's that?"

"Imagine you're doing some math problems in front of the whole class, and you think "what if I make this problem wrong?" What's the worst that could happen?"

"They... laugh at me."

"Eeeehh, error. The worst thing that could happen is that a meteor crashes and destroys the school. See? That's the worst thing that could happen."

"I... I guess?"

"What I mean is, you can think "what if...?" all you want, but the reality is, you won't know unless ya try. Maybe you'll do a great job and you didn't even expect it! Or maybe you'll do the math problem wrong! Who cares? The important thing is that you saw the yellow light, stopped for a second and then decided to carry on. That's what you have to do. Always carry on."

The last part comes out quieter than the rest, and Stan knows. The kid probably noticed too.

"You understand that?"

"Yes, I think so." The kid finishes his sandwich, thinking for a moment. "So, do you think I should try reading on Storytelling Day?"

"Yeah, of course! You can practice reading in your house if you want too. So you're more comfortable or something when you do the real thing."

"...okay."

A few seconds pass, in which Stan reflects on what he just told the kid. He didn't think much about it, he acted on instinct. It's been a while since he had to give a pep talk to anyone. He just hopes he was better at explaining himself this time around.

The kid rises his head to meet Stan's eyes. Immediately, he shoots him a flashing smile. Even his eyes seem to glow a little.

"Okay, I'll do it!"

Stan rises his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yeah! But I need to ask Abuelita to help me with the reading, I need practice."

"Can't you make some story up? Instead of reading a book. Ya know, write something and invent the rest as you go. That's how I do it."

The kid scratches his chin like he's thinking. Stan thinks it's kinda cute; he probably picked that up from some cartoon.

"I can do that, yeah. If I have it in my head, I don't need to read it. I can do it like theater, like you do!"

Stan smiles. "Yeah, you can do that. Just don't use any of my stories, ya might steal some clients from me."

"Okay! I'll make something up then. Maybe a monster in the falls! That lives behind the water, in a cave! And you can only go if you follow me, because I'm the guide! I know where the monster is!" The kid is now standing on the floor, flailing his arms, trying to explain his story. "And the monster is good, but he's shy! But he can take photos with the people, because he's a cool guy. Cool monster!"

"Okay, okay, I think you have your idea. And see? It took you no time to come up with one. I think you'll do just fine", Stan says, putting his hand on the kid's shoulder.

The kid's smile grows impossibly bigger. Without notice, he lauches himself into Stan's arms, hugging him tight while he's still sat down. Stan instinctively puts an arm around him, hugging him back. God he's tiny. 5'4", no more.

"Thank you, Mr. Pines."

"No worries, kid." Stan could cry —or rather, sweat through his eyes— again. He doesn't want to think about it much, but he knows deep down he needed that hug. Probably just as much as the boy himself.

He stays like that, sidehugging the kid, until the little man decides to let go. Stan won't admit it to his own shadow, but the emptiness that follows that move is overwhelming.

"Okay, no more talking, I need to take ya home. I don't want to suffer the wrath of your Abuelita."

The kid chuckles: "She's nice, she's not scary. Except when she takes the chancla."

"Yeah, I've had a couple of chanclazos in the past. Not looking forward to it. Go to the door and wait for me at the register. I'm gonna put on some clothes."

"Okay."

***

The drive to Abuelita's house is short and peaceful. It's summer, so the night isn't as dark as it could be, and there's still a couple of cars and people out. It is, by all means, a nice summer night.

Stan parks the car right in front of the door. The house is dark, and the blinds are open; Abuelita is probably not home yet. He turns to the kid on his right.

"Alright you rascal, time to go home. Next time, make sure to remember the last bus. I don't want your grandma to have a heart attack."

"Okay." The kid says, without a care in the world. Then, suddenly: "Are you feeling better, Mr. Pines?"

"What?"

"From the crying before. Or, the sweating through the eyes. Are you okay?"

Shouldn't ten-year-olds be a little stupid? Maybe this child won't be tall, but he's too goddamn smart.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just- the glass I broke, it was my favorite", he blurts out.

"Aww, I'm sorry, Mr. Pines. You can have one of mine if you want."

"Nah, don't worry, kid. I'll buy another one. But, ehm, thank you. For the offer."

"Of course!"

"Okay, go home now. You have the key, right?"

The kid slips his hand in the collar of his shirt and pulls out a little key he has on a piece of string around his neck. He nods.

"Great, then come on. Go in and tell your Abuelita you're sorry you didn't eat her food, but you had dinner. Do not lie to her, huh?"

"Never!"

"Good kid. Up top." He puts his hand up. The kid enthusiastically high-fives him. "Nice strength. Now go home, come on."

"Thank you, Mr. Pines."

"You're welcome, kid."

The little man opens the door and steps out of the car. Stan watches as he walks away towards the house. It looks pretty, with some flowers on the windowsills, but very dark. It seems clear to him that the house is very empty.

God, don't think about it. Don't. Do not-

"Hey, Soos!"

Idiot.

"Yes?"

"If you write your story and read it on Storytelling Day, I'll go with you to the next one."

"REALLY!?"

"Shhh, quiet down, you're gonna wake up the whole town. Yes, I will, BUT don't start writing now. Now ya get some sleep. Tomorrow you can start it."

"Okay! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Okay, okay, settle down. I'll see you at the Shack, okay? Good luck with the story."

"Okay! Goodnight, Mr. Pines."

"'Night, kid."

Great job, you knucklehead. Now you have to do some theater at a school for free.

It should bother him more that it currently does, to be completely honest. But the smile on the kid's face was... He doesn't know how to explain it, but it was something. Something big, and good. It was nice to see, and much nicer to be the cause.

On the drive home, Stan stops as a crossroad. He looks up, absentmindedly, and chuckles to himself.

Yellow light. Carry on.

[chaifootsteps]

I realized something about Ozzie's. most of the reason the episode worked and feels like it's one of three best episodes of HB (the other being truth seekers and harvest moon maybe coming in third) was because it seemed like it was paying off the plot that had been set up in season 1 to that point - Blitzo taking his stalking of M&M too far, Blitzo being confronted with the fact that his new life was pretty empty of any real bonds or intimacy despite his attempts to form them and Stolas reaping what he'd sown in regards to Blitzo not trusting he would ever want anything but sex.

but then you realize that Viv isn't capable of writing payoffs or conflicts competently, so moments that feel like a status quo change - M&M feeling like Blitzo has gone too far, Stolas&Blitzo's "relationship" being exposed in a prominent Hell club - have no consequences whatsoever. the same is true of Truth Seekers in hindsight - Blitzo hasn't changed his treatment to Moxxie in any substantial way (look at how he yells at him in exes and ohs and insults him pretty brutally in unhappy campers) since they both promised they'd try and work on it, and it's been what? like nearly ten episodes since then?

The same is true with Stolas & Blitzo. it felt like it worked so well in Ozzie's because it was paying off a season's worth of setup of Stolas using and demeaning Blitzo, and Blitzo being unable to put up with it any longer when Stolas suddenly acts like he has romantic intentions. but from what I remember Viv liked a tweet where someone said the moment was just 'Blitzo being annoyed Stolas tried to act romantic after the fact [when he didn't stand up for him in the club]'. And that's a legitimate thing for Blitzo to be annoyed about but not only was the scene very much not written that way ("don't act like what we have is anything but you wanting me to fuck you. you make that really clear, all the time") but it's a far weaker argument scene if so and a complete waste of the setup.

and in hindsight it's also clear that even if Viv had written the scene at the time to call Stolas out, her intentions for the argument in season 2 are much different - to end the Full Moon deal, not by making Stolas do any actual character development but just by retrofitting New Perfect Stolas onto the antagonist we started out with and acting like he meaningfully changed, when no one in this show ever meaningfully changes (closest they've managed is Blitz&Fizz making up, but Blitzo didn't do a whole lot to repair that relationship and was barely written as being in the wrong to begin with). I'll be surprised if the argument comes up in the Full Moon episode at all, especially since the show already half-assed a payoff to it in the form of Stolas' on screen for one second manipulative non-apology via text - they'll probably just beeline to holding Blitzo responsible for Stolas sexually coercing him and also for Stolas being the one to fail to protect his own magical grimoire properly

It's true, isn't it? Ozzie's was, in a lot of ways, that last shining moment of hope for the writing in the series. It felt like things coming together, like Viv finding her feet.

It wasn't.

[misc-obeyme]

In-Game?

Okay next in the daily chat series is this one featuring Leviathan!

"But CC," you may be saying, "didn't you already post a daily chat story with Levi?"

Yes, I did a while ago. But then I deleted it. So if you saw that and were confused, I'm sorry! The problem is Levi lol. No, but seriously, I didn't like how that story turned out, so I decided to delete it and try again with a different chat. I find I sometimes have trouble writing Levi's character and honestly I think it's because his anxiety really hits close to home?? I mean, in the game, it's really not that bad. He just gets nervous sometimes when MC gets romantic and out in crowds of normies lol. But I've been dealing with anxiety (social anxiety specifically) for my entire life, so I tend to overthink it when I write a character with a similar affliction. I think I write the character's anxiety more like my own, which makes it feel too OOC to me. BUT I think I did okay this time, so here it is, attempt number two!

GN!MC x Leviathan

Warnings: none!

LEVIATHAN: Where did I go wrong? For Memory Kiss 2. Ugh, I got the bad ending.

MC: Want to replay it together?

LEVIATHAN: Sure! I just need Suzu-chan's happy ending… … and Shiro-chan's true ending. When you come, bring some drinks. Thanks!

It had all been going just fine. You had brought a few cans of devil crush super spicy mango juice to Levi's room. He had already started up the game Memory Kiss 2, prepared to play through it with you.

You just hadn't anticipated how awkward playing a dating sim together had the potential to be. Now you were sitting next to Levi on the floor of his room, blushing to your roots as the character on the screen swooned at one of your suggested dialogue options. You were both surprised that this option had worked.

Moments ago, Levi had expressed his doubt about it. "That line's just too flirty!" he said. "Suzu-chan will probably be offended that you're being so bold!"

"No way," you disagreed. "It's a great line."

"Why do you think that?" Levi asked.

"It would work on me," you said.

Levi had spluttered at you, unable to respond properly to this revelation. Despite his anxiety at what you just said, he managed to choose the dialogue option in question.

You both watch in stunned silence as Suzu-chan reacted with a multitude of little hearts.

You were embarrassed now because you actually thought Levi was right. It was an overly flirty option. But sometimes it was nice to hear something bold, something that left no room for uncertainty, something that indicated the person you were talking to wasn't just slightly interested, but actually wanted you.

The fact that this video game character seemed to agree with that assessment was pretty embarrassing.

"Y-you were right," Levi managed to say.

You cleared your throat and tried to brush it off. "Of course I was right," you said.

Levi put down his controller. He wouldn't look at you. "B-but you're nothing like Suzu-chan," he said. "And you said…"

"I know what I said," you interrupted, mostly because you didn't think you could stand it if he repeated what you had said. "Suzu-chan is a video game character, Levi. She has a programmed personality. Real people are more complicated. And I… well, I…"

Levi turned to you suddenly, grabbing both of your hands and squeezing them. He still couldn't quite look you in the eye. "Do you want me to start staying stuff like that? This sort of… Asmo-like stuff?!"

You laughed. "I don't know if I could take you seriously if you tried doing that."

Levi drooped a little. "Yeah, it would be more funny than anything, huh?"

"I just want you to be yourself, Levi," you said, watching him smile and blush at this comment.

You let go of his hands and picked up the controller. You had a feeling about what was coming next in the game, so you pressed through some of the remaining dialogue until a new set of options came up.

You selected one of the options, letting the game highlight it without actually choosing it yet. You put the controller back in Levi's hands.

"I want this from you far more than any flirty line," you said softly into his ear, leaning in close to him.

Levi froze at first, his eyes on the screen. You had highlighted the option that said only kiss me.

But then he seemed to gather up his confidence. He hit the button on the controller, choosing to kiss the character, who reacted with a sweet little kiss sound. But Levi wasn't looking at the screen anymore. The controller was abandoned on the floor as his arms circled around your waist, pulling you close.

You could tell that he was still nervous - a slight shake in his touch, the light blush on his cheeks, the way he kept his eyes closed - but he still leaned in to press his lips to yours.

Levi always started off timid, but with a little encouragement, he lost himself enough to let go of that anxiety. So you kissed him back, putting your arms around him and clutching onto his shirt as you pulled him closer to you.

Sure enough, this was all Levi needed. His response was to become needy, arms tightening around you, his movements more desperate, even a gentle nip at your bottom lip.

You pulled away just enough to whisper in his ear. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to distract you like this. What about the game?"

Levi made a low noise in his throat, half groan, half growl. "MC, for once I don't care about the game. Right now, real life is way better."

You laughed because this actually meant a lot coming from Levi. You kissed him again and he was ready for you, both of you losing yourselves in each other while Suzu-chan displayed on the screen, forgotten.

others in this series:

Mammon | Barbatos | Solomon | Lucifer | Simeon

Asmodeus | Diavolo | Beelzebub | Belphegor | Satan

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[mamamittens]

Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Pt. 11)

Platonic Whitebeard Crew & Reader-Insert

Main|First|Previous

Warnings: Yandere behavior (somehow I think I managed to loop Teach into it now too, so congrats, you've charmed a bastard man). If you find yandere content uncomfortable, please do block the tag 'oh sweet child of mine' as well as any relevant variations to 'one piece yandere'.

Do not tolerate this behavior in real life.

Stay safe and have fun!

If my mental math is correct, I should finish this in 4~ish more chapters. So we're nearing the end!

Also, surprisingly sympathetic take on Teach's backstory, didn't know I had it in me. This is assuming the fan theory that he's from a winter island and was with Whitebeard since he was young, btw.

Word Count: 2,099

Teach grinned as his new crew set the sails to leave the small island he’d recruited them from. Dawn was just breaking and he wanted to make good time—just in case he already had tails from his old crew. He wasn’t entirely sure how much of a head start he had given the rush he was in to ensure Thatch didn’t eat the fruit. Decades looking for it and he nearly lost his chance again.

He adjusted your limp body under his arm for a moment, enjoying the palpable feeling of his power increasing from the contact. The shadows seemed to writhe hungrily at his senses, eagerly awaiting his command in a way they simply didn’t without you. You… well, you were a bit of last minute surprise as well. Sure, in theory, he could just take your fruit but he wasn’t confident it would work the same way. And he couldn’t risk wasting it if it didn’t. Besides, you’re the perfect bait.

He has the power. He has the plan. Now he just needs the reputation to become the Pirate King. And what better way than taking down his old crew one at a time? Sowing chaos to fracture them until Oyaji is too weak to stand against him and properly claim rise to his lofty goals as ‘Blackbeard’. Killing Thatch would certainly get someone on his ass, though he was torn between commanders as to who it could be. Izo was sore enough about losing old friends, and Marco may feel responsible as first mate. But Ace—well, he was a spitfire at the best of times and his old commander to boot.

Taking you was sort of like kicking the hornet’s nest. While also becoming even more powerful in a single move. How could he not do it?

The minor issue of ensuring you never have a chance of squirming away was easily solved with a bit of chain. It’s not like you were particularly strong, though you were smart enough to not do anything too risky—which he appreciated really. Though he’d prefer you sticking around willingly if only to not have to carry you every time you fell asleep.

Teach chuckled a little to himself as he returned to his newly minted quarters. You were wearing down pretty fast the longer he was ‘on the run’. No real chance to properly rest or recuperate from what must be a stressful situation—for you at least. If he neglected to feed you every now and then it only helped ensure you were weaker than before. Who knows, he might not even need the chain if this kept up.

Teach set you down on the sparse bed, unhooking his end of the chain to secure it to the latch on the wall. It wasn’t like he was going to use the bed himself. He paused a moment to watch as you curled up against the wall, completely dead to the world.

Heh. Cute.

He didn’t get why Oyaji recruited the way he did. Pretending to be a big family when they were actually just a band of pirates taking what they wanted. Too soft for a man with the strength to do anything he desired. Too many vulnerabilities. But every so often he thought he understood it… a little. Late night parties with lighthearted competition. Long running arguments about inane subject that both parties are a little too invested in to be serious.

Teach reached down and removed your glasses, examining the cracked lens. Bending it in the light to watch it refract as he considered your position. His prisoner and, technically, first mate. Though he wouldn’t be having you fight—not that he’d trust you to fight for him right now. He had the absolute upper hand over you. Chose to stay his hand. Because you had use to him.

He heard you shudder a little and paused, setting the thick glasses down. You were cold—weak body sensitive to the relative chill in the room. Unbidden, he remembered long, cold nights on his home island in the snow. Powerless and unsure if he’d survive to see daylight again.

Until Oyaji found him. A small, frail part of his chest ached at the memory. The sheer relief that he was safe now. His next meal guaranteed at no cost. No more cold, lonely nights. Even now, he calls him that. Oyaji. Despite fully planning to kill him. The idea didn’t conflict in his head. It was simply the way of things. Old replaced by the new. What higher respect could he pay his father-figure than personally ensuring his demise to further his own prospects? To step out of the shadows and get rid of one of the few people alive that can remember the sad, pathetic child in the snow?

Perhaps this strange sense of sentiment was his own, personal weakness. Crafted by a man too weak of heart to truly conquer the seas.

Teach shrugged off his coat, laying it over you gently. Chuckling when you stopped trembling.

He was a pirate. He could indulge in whatever vice he wanted… though perhaps cautiously. It wouldn’t do to deride Oyaji for something he, himself, was guilty of in excess.

He didn’t get why Marco took you. Why Oyaji agreed to take you in. Well, aside from your devil fruit. But the soft glove approach smacked of weakness given your surprisingly stubborn refusal.

But the slow, rolling satisfaction that settled in his chest knowing that he made sure you weren’t cold… he thought he could understand Oyaji a little better now. Why he kept picking up strays everywhere he went so indulgently in the same way he’d sneak sips of good booze when the nurses weren’t looking.

It was a strange, frail sort of pride to partake in. Pride at providing. But Teach learned at Oyaji’s knee to take enjoyment from the little things in life.

Besides, it wasn’t like you could sell him out or take advantage of what scraps he gave you. As long as you behaved, he supposed there was no problem in these small gestures of kindness. So long as you never forgot your place, that is.

--*--

Luffy laughed, loudly and with glee as his older brother teased his crew. He was so proud of the people he’d recruited so far and wanted Ace to see what he did. Those bright, beautiful sparks that drew Luffy like a moth to flame. The spark that Ace himself had since they were children that only grew since they parted. Ace was still hurt, a little broken inside, but it had healed since they last met.

“Why are you here, anyhow?” Nami asked, “I thought Whitebeard mostly stuck to the New World?” Ever inquisitive, Luffy’s smile widened at how clever his navigator was. Ace scowled, tipping his head towards the man he brought with him.

Pineapple. Well, Ace called him ‘Marco’ but obviously Pineapple was better. Tall and blond with bright blue eyes—achingly reminding him of Sabo but different enough that Luffy could barely see the ghost of his other brother.

“We’re tracking down a traitor. He tried to kill one of our own and kidnapped another.” Pineapple scowled with dark eyes. Luffy’s crew was shocked—giving Luffy the impression that this was an even bigger deal than he first thought.

“A nakama-killer? Who?” Ussop asked breathlessly, “What kind of monster would make it out from a Yonko ship after that?!”

“Teach.” Ace hissed in a way that reminded Luffy of the few times he said Bluejam or Celestial Dragon. Fire flickering between his teeth. “He goes by ‘Blackbeard’ now. Promise me if you run into him you won’t fight him, Lu. He nearly killed Thatch. You’re not strong enough to fight him yet.”

Luffy made a noise of surprise, both at Ace’s words and the name.

“Hey, didn’t we already run into him?” Zoro asked, glancing at Luffy for confirmation. Luffy remembered the weird pirate well. Poor taste in food and rude as hell.

“Yeah, we did actually. Weird guy with a weird laugh. With the tired four-eyes.” The two looked at Luffy sharply. “I almost got in a fight with him but he weirded me out.”

“Tired four eyes?” Ace asked with a pissed off expression. Luffy felt a small twinge of guilt for not helping the stranger at the time, but something inside him whispered ‘not yet’.

“Yeah. They were connected with a chain. Thought he had a slave or something but Nami said it wasn’t quite right.” Luffy explained. Nami nodded, tensing slightly as the two looked at her for more answers.

“Well, usually slaves just have the collar. And he didn’t make any demands or order them around. They just had to… follow him. He even yanked them by accident and apologized. Most slave owners don’t bother with that.” Nami huffed.

Luffy pouted. They looked promising. He even felt… weird when they were around. Like he was stronger somehow. His heart like a steel drum in his chest. Like he felt when he was around his nakama. But they lacked a… spark. Like they lost it and Luffy didn’t know how to give it back. Almost tried anyway but his crew stopped him.

He hoped that next time they found that spark again. He’d love to have them on his crew.

Ace nodded.

“We’re getting close, at least. Hopefully we’ll catch up to them soon. Who knows, we might be able to introduce you guys properly!” Ace grinned, the edges a little sharp like he was suggesting dine-in-dashing when they were kids and hunting crocodiles was too much of a hassle. Luffy grinned.

“I wanna meet them again! Hey! Hey! Ace, do you think they’d join my crew?” Luffy cackled when Pineapple and Ace jolted at the question. Ace narrowed his eyes, clicking his tongue with a thin smile.

“Oi! Don’t go stealing from my crew, you little shit!” Ace hooked his arm around Luffy’s neck stretching it out as he gave Luffy a noogie through his hat.

Luffy squirmed, crying out at the unfairness.

“Ack! Aaaaccee~! They look cool. Though really tired! I promise to take good care of them! Ace!” Luffy complained. Arms failing uselessly as Ace kept him pinned in place. “Ace!”

Luffy’s crew watched with wide eyes as Pineapple smirked from his spot against the wall.

Okay, that felt a little like Sabo.

--*--

You looked out at the growing island, Banaro, chain wrapped around your waist so it wouldn’t drag across the deck. You knew that Teach would come over shortly to reattach it to his bracelet. For the past couple of months, he’d given you relative freedom while at sea and restricting your movement once they got close enough to an island. For the most part, you’d been avoiding the crew, which Teach encouraged.

Probably to make sure you didn’t get any outside help, not that you felt confident you would have received any if you’d asked.

The closest chances to escape you’ve noticed was the revolutionary early into your capture with Teach and Straw Hat—surprisingly. Not that you think Teach knew that.

Though the occasional spotting of a sea king was also promising, Teach had them firmly sail in whatever direction was away from potential pods. Kill joy.

Anyway, it wasn’t that Straw Hat was stronger than Teach, he was definitely a bit too green to manage it given Teach’s decades at sea.

But… that devil fruit of his.

It called out to you. Boundless as the horizon. A drumbeat that vibrated your soul. A call to… something. Something just out of your reach. And you had the sense that if you had only known what that ‘something’ was, Straw Hat would have thrown hands the minute he saw you.

The pirate seemingly breathing in sync with his fruit, only held back by how weak he was currently. Which was a strange thing to sense. Usually fruits were just not utilized well. They didn’t typically hold such obvious power that the user simply was unable to access it at that time.

It felt elastic. Snappy and twisting in a way that you found delightful. Made you want to laugh without even hearing what he was saying.

You smiled a little. Strangely optimistic for the first time in a long time.

Pirate King, huh?

… Somehow, you felt as though Straw Hat Luffy would shake the world. And despite being a ex-marine, you looked forward to it.

Hopefully, you’d be in a position to see it for yourself.

[harlequinoccult]

thank you for explaining the caustic personality!! honestly Vulpine might as well have caustic as his main w apathetic tendencies instead, ig ill find out when the demo is updated XD both personality types fit him too well. honestly he's not that aggressive as a person, he's actually mostly quite polite, but he does have a tendency to stare. the ones who really get to see his aggressive side are the people he dislikes (Host better fucking prepare himself-)

well i figured i'd just finish what i started, and continue on my never-ending ramble. usually i like making Ariel an orphan, it's a bit of a callback to his roots and it fits him, but this time i think the second option i usually go for him fits best: single child of a single mother. she's the only family he has that he knows of, a very loving, religious and hard working lady who was shunned from the community for getting pregnant out of wedlock. the very first fights Ari would get into in his childhood were against kids who would say some unsavory shit abt his mom. having a mother who was blindly dedicated to the same church that constantly made her suffer for the mistake of having a kid without a husband also played a very big part into Ariel becoming an atheist and rebelling against the church in his teen years.

she was p absent as a parent, having to work p much the whole day to be able to support them both, but she tried her best the moments when she was present, and Ari recognizes that and loves her dearly. he started stealing things and got his first job quite young to try to help her pay the bills.

he got arrested when he was around 18 yo, probably getting caught on one of his "heists", trying to steal from the richer houses around, and he hasn't seen her since then. his time in prison was... bad. really fucking bad. the worst, lowest point of his life, in fact.

i have no idea how the legal system works in england and i have no desire to learn, but for what's worth he is caught trying to escape at least once, and spends 2 miserable years in there until he finally manages to leave.

did he actually complete his sentence? lol. lmao.

no. no he didn't. be it by a month, a year, a day, the important thing is he didn't.

is Ariel Fox even his real name? i doubt it. that would be stupid wouldn't it, illegally immigrating to a different country after escaping from prison and using your real ass name to do it, he's smarter than that.

fun fact abt Ari: he does not want to go back to prison. he'll kill himself before they have the chance to catch him.

on a... "unrelated" note, the reason why Carter managed to wrap such a tight leash on Ariel is bc he learned smth he shouldn't have and he's holding that little secret right over his head. im sure you can't possibly guess what he found out that would make Ariel put up w his shit the way he did-

so the fact that Ari ends up in this city (i forgor the name and i can't leave the askbox to check or ill lose everything i typed 😭) is honestly not rlly much of a surprise, nor is the fact that he's p much alone despite living there for years. he's always been a bit of an outcast, a loner, someone who avoids people on purpose. he hasn't seen his mom since he left england, but he looks her up every once in a while. debates whether he should call her. decides it's for the best that he doesn't.

he starts over. new life, new me, or whatever the hell people say. starts off already with shifty connections, he needs a fake identity and a fake birth certificate and a fake everything if he has any hope of passing by unscathed, after all. needs to lay low. not call too much attention. be a nobody. wait until things calm down a bit.

he stays at least a year living like that, settling in, subduing his accent until he can pass it off as having learned it from a family member or some other bullshit. applies for university. becomes just another american college student.

meets someone.

falls in love.

has them taken from him. has his entire life destroyed. again. needs to try to pick himself up. again. is struck with such crippling grief unlike anything he has ever felt before. it's almost as bad as the two worst years of his life.

almost.

he's never letting anything like that happen to him ever again.

anyway! as mentioned before, he was working on getting a doctorate when Carter came along, and he sort of had to drop out after that, to the dismay of his teachers. what was he getting a doctorate on? honestly p much anything would be in-character for Ariel, he's an everything nerd, from language to history to engineering to biology that man wants to know quite literally everything the world has to offer him. his infodumps are the most complete and varied possible, he's a walking talking encyclopedia.

he's an extremely paranoid person who overthinks everything including his own overthinking and really, if nothing else here's to hoping that OD can at least teach him to loosen up a bit-

he never enjoyed doing drugs very much, despite partaking in them quite often in his youth. he's way more likely to experience a bad trip than a good one, so he learned to stay away from them as much as possible, but alcohol and nicotine were a completely different story. he's still addicted to nicotine to this day, the one drug he allows himself to never let go. he was an alcoholic through a big chunk of his life, until someone did Very Bad Things to him when he was too drunk to be able to fight back. that experience just flipped a switch inside of him, it broke him badly enough to make him promise himself to never touch another drop of alcohol in his life, a promise he did very well by until Carter killed his beloved and he had the worst relapse of his life. he's back to being a straight edge now tho, its fine! its not fine

he has immense distaste for the cops of the city, but part of him is kinda grateful that they're so bad at their job or else he would be Fucked. he absolutely despised doing work for Carter, even after he became so numb to it all it made him want to tear his own heart out just to make sure it was still beating. i cannot stress enough how much he suffered inside at the start, part of the reason he started drinking again was to try to ignore how much all of it hurt. at least he could try to make sure Carter didn’t kill innocents. he couldn't really be sure every time, but he tried. he really did.

he probably tried killing Carter at least once. or thought abt it, at the very least. made plans. had it all figured out in his head, down to the last detail, how he would do it and get away with it. ngl, he was probably on the verge of putting it into action when Host sent him that email and just gave him the perfect chance to do it just like that-

as a killer, Vulpine is very much the stealthy type, hiding in the shadows, walking withouth making a sound. if its a group, he'll pick them off one by one, until someone notices and all hell breaks loose or until all of them are dead. if he's forced to kill someone he doesn't think deserves it, he's merciful. very quick, clean deaths, going straight for the vitals, almost painless. if it's someone he thinks deserves to suffer, however... well, he's always been curious to know what a human vivisection would look like.

truth is, he's a sadist. well, a sadomasochist really, but he gets off on making people suffer, and he hates it. he especially hates the fact that hurting the person he loves is such a tantalizing thought. marking them blue and black, covering them in red, it's not really his fault blood is such a beautiful thing, is it? and if his lover wants to do the same to him, well, he's more than happy to oblige. anything for his love. except bondage. getting tied up/held down is actually a pretty bad trigger for him, he hates it, no matter the context

ok well i think that's everything! thanks for indulging me!!

-🦊

The ask is somewhere around here, i know it, but with caustic mcs, Carter assumed they were all bark and no bite. Fitting, i think.

And, given everything, OD is a fitting match, they like learning and they are smart -in their own way- the drugs and partying is for themselves, they aren't the type to pressure people into drugs, in fact, they can and will tell you about the various side effects of any given drug because they think its legitimately interesting.

[hils79]

Hils Watches The King's Avatar - Ep 40

It doesn't feel like 5 minutes ago that I started this drama. It's so very bingeable.

It's been a real journey. None of this has been what I expected beyond the very basic concept of 'it's a drama about esports'. There have been so many wonderful surprises. There are characters that I hated that I now love, characters that I loved that I now love even more, and more ships than I ever expected to ship.

While I'm at it I want to say a heartfelt thank you to everyone who has popped up in the replies to my posts or in my asks to either answer my questions or just yell about their favourite characters. I can tell this drama (and the novel and donghua) are so well loved and liveblogging this has really felt like a community experience. Thank you for not laughing at all the stuff I got wrong and for not making fun of me for shipping everyone. It's really been so wonderful and I almost don't want to press play on the final episode because I don't want it to be over.

But I need to see what happens so let's go!

Ah, okay. I misunderstood what happened at the end of the last episode. I thought they'd lost the game but no they could still win they just didn't have enough points to win the championship.

Is there going to be some loophole like the whole 'oh the ref's watch broke so actually you won'

HAHA! I fucking knew it! They got an extra two points for beating a league record. Because apparently that is a rule that has never been mentioned until now.

Eh, whatever. There was a nice moment with the fans before the found out they'd won

Ye Xiu finally gets the hug that he's needed since episode 1

Good lord how is there 30 minutes left? What's going to happen now that they've won?

God I hope Sun Xiang punches him

Except of course he won't because he's all grown up now. Also, typically it's the coaches/managers that get fired when a team does badly. I hope he gets booted

Love Shaotian dragging Wenzhou to his feet so he can cheer

Remember when their entire fanbase was just this guy. I'm definitely not crying at all

Look at that little half smile. He's grown so much considering they only lost on a technicality. I do think he's at least a little bit happy for Ye Xiu as the better player (for now)

GDI I can't believe I'm crying over Sun Xiang AGAIN

LOL remember when I thought he was going to be the antagonist of the drama when I watched the first episode. How wrong I was

Haha yes let's have a little joke about the time when I nearly banned you for life in the middle of an important game and caused your team to lose as a result

I have in no way been thinking about writing some King's Avatar fic with one based on the fact that Ye Xiu passes out after one drink

HAHA! Mo Fan pretended to pass out too so he doesn't have to talk to anyone. He is such a mood

Oh shit! I did not see that coming!

Oh no he looks so sad to see his former team like this, and it's understandable. He built that team from the ground up and put so much time and work into making them the legends they were

Yes, good. Baozi is cuddling one of his boyfriends as he should

Ah, yay, I'd forgotten about the team graphic. Time to add one more person right before the end

And finished! That was wonderful! Definitely in my top 5 dramas that I've watched this year. Might even be the number one, actually. I definitely should have watched that years ago when people first told me to give it a try. But, you know, I firmly believe you find things when you were meant to find them. Now was good.

I'll be starting a new drama tomorrow. If you were just here for my King's Avatar posts it's been lovely to have you. If you're sticking around for other liveblogs I'll see you tomorrow for more yelling :D

[obwjam]

GIANT TRENT CRIMM!!!!! IVE SEEN NO GIANT TRENT CONTENT WHAT ARE UR THOUGHTS ON HIM PLS

this has been sitting in my inbox for a while so let me make that up to you with a FICLET (inspired by convos with @rockification and @snack-at-midnight) in which trent discovers a borrower and is so enamored that he just HAS to tell ted

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were exhausted.

Your entire day was spent begging, pleading with the giant who had caught you mere days ago not to reveal your existence to anyone else. You knew who he was -- reporter-turned-author Trent Crimm, formerly of The Independent, now just independent. You spent your days traversing the vast AFC Richmond training facility, finding new places to hide and explore just about every day.

You just didn't count on someone finding you.

"It's alright, little one," Trent reassured you for the millionth time. You cringed at the nickname he used for you. It was so... dehumanizing. "Ted is a wonderful man, he won't hurt you."

You rolled your eyes. "I know he won't hurt me."

"Then might I ask what the problem is?" Despite how icky it made him feel, Trent knew he could use his size to his advantage. The two of you sat at his desk right next door to the coaches office, alone inside the facility at nearly 1 a.m. The writer leaned over you slightly, his shadow casting a long, dark shape that engulfed your form. You looked up with wide eyes and gulped.

"I... I just..." you started, unsure of how sassy you wanted to get. He could do anything to you. "I'm not very... keen on being discovered by an entire football club."

Trent felt a pang in his stomach. He really was sympathetic to your situation, but even if he didn't work in journalism anymore, he was still a journalist at heart, which meant that a secret like the existence of tiny people just couldn't stay a secret.

"You're lucky. There was a time I'd have reported your existence to the entire world," Trent remarked, subtly hoping that it would somehow make you feel better. "Besides, it's not the entire football club. It's just Ted." Trent thought for a moment. "And maybe Beard."

"Wow, lucky me," you snapped, not really thinking.

Trent pursed his lips and sighed. This snappy version of you was a far cry from the tiny he had discovered in his office around this time of night just a few days ago.

"Oh, my... what on earth...?"

You froze. You knew you lived in a place where the team was in and out at unorthodox hours, but you could read a clock. It was 2 a.m. Who was actually here at 2 a.m.?

Oh, right. The guy whose desk you were raiding supplies from.

Trent was speechless. Standing on his desk, clutching a paper clip like their life depended on it, was a human, no more than a few inches tall. As strange as it all was, as a journalist, he had heard it all. Phone calls and emails and messages from all sorts of people, ranging from good-mannered readers to straight-up nutcases... several of whom once tried to warn him of the existence of "imps" that would soon take over the world. What that had to do with him, a sports reporter, never made sense to Trent, but it's the first thing that popped into his mind.

You couldn't move. Why is he here? was the only thing going through your mind. This wasn't real. It was just another nightmare. You'd wake up any moment now...

Slowly, Trent leaned down. Nope, this was all very real. His salt-and-pepper hair spilled over his shoulders as his face grew closer to your trembling form, trying to find the words. I'm about to be the very first person to make contact with a tiny lifeform, he thought, not stopping to think that this might not be the first time.

"Hello, little one," he managed to say, quieter than he thought he was capable of. "I hope you'll excuse my surprise, I'm... well, I didn't expect to be seeing any tiny people on my desk tonight."

You just stared at him. What were you supposed to say?

"I'm Trent Crimm. What's..." he started before noticing just how scared you were. He had to adjust his plans. "You can tell me your name later, if you'd like." He cautiously took a seat, enamored at the way you gaped at his movements. "Is it alright if I ask you some questions?"

At this point, Trent knew just about everything he could ever want to know about you. He had this way of making you feel safe and drawing you in...

"I'm sorry, (y/n), I just -- if you were me, do you really think you could keep this a secret? You -- your existence -- it's quite remarkable, really."

You opened your mouth to reply, but Trent continued.

"You told me you've observed every single person who's ever walked through this clubhouse. Right?"

You nodded.

"So by now, you must have seen Ted, and how... gentle he is with others."

Another nod, though this one tentative.

"Then believe me when I say that me -- Ted -- we would keep you safe," Trent said, fumbling his words a bit. "I know you're nervous, but I promise, I'd never do anything to hurt you. At all."

You felt yourself blush. You were really starting to believe him.

"Why..." you began, checking to see how Trent would react to you speaking. He looked at you warmly, eager to hear what you had to say. "Why do you need to tell anyone at all?"

Trent sighed, leaning back in his chair, and took a moment to think. "Truthfully? I just can't contain my excitement," he said, shrugging. A small smile spread across his face. "If I can't tell the world, then... I suppose it's alright to tell just one person. Right?"

Your eyes darted to the tabletop, unsure of how to process this. On the one hand, you were a person, and it was unfair to dismiss your feelings. On the other hand, though... meeting Ted didn't seem like such a bad idea. He seemed like a good ally to have. And you had to admit, it was kind of flattering that Trent was so enamored with you. At the very least, he did ask if it was okay for him to introduce you to Ted... even if he was quite forward about it.

"Look... I understand the way you feel, I--I think. It's just... I don't think I'm ready yet -- to meet another person," you clarified. You stole a glance at Trent, who was taking it all in. You clenched your teeth under the weight of his stare. He's so big. "Maybe one day, when I... get used to being around you."

Trent's expression brightened. "Being around me, eh?"

Your face got hot. "Yeah. I don't think I could get rid of you now, even if I tried."

Trent laughed. "I suppose you're right." He cautiously put his elbow down on the desk, cupping his chin in his hand. The more he stared at you, the more he felt an intense desire to protect you and keep you safe from the madhouse of AFC Richmond. He was fascinated by your entire existence -- your life, your upbringing, your culture, everything. The dichotomy of the way you would nervously eye his hand and his movements, yet traverse the terrain that towered over you like an expert outdoorsman, was enamoring. It was an entirely new race of people to learn more about, and there was nothing Trent loved more than learning about people.

And telling stories.

"You know, I've asked you an awful lot of questions about yourself. Is there anything you'd like to ask me?"

You perked up. "Actually, I do. A lot of things. Starting with that device you stare at all day."

"The laptop?" Trent questioned, pointing to his closed Macbook.

You shook your head. "No. The smaller one. The rectangle."

Trent stifled a laugh. "You mean my phone?"

"Don't laugh," you chided. "How does it work?"

Now Trent was really smiling. Things as everyday and mundane as his phone were like a wonder to you, and to Trent, that was just downright adorable.

“Well, why don’t I just show you?” he said playfully, pulling his phone from his pocket with a twinkle in his eye. He stretched his arms out and held his phone upright, not even needing to touch the screen for it to flicker to life.

Trent felt a warmth fill his chest when he saw your eyes light up with the screen. He would tell Ted about you eventually, but right now, he was happy to have you all to himself.

[aebi12]

"Sinful Desires" - Epilogue

Previous chapters - Masterlist

“Do you find everything terribly strange?”

Aegon jumps at hearing Alyssa's voice.

“I am sorry, darling, I didn't mean to scare you,” she apologizes walking slowly towards her brother, who is leaning on the balcony watching the new soldiers training in one of the castle courtyards.

"You just caught me by surprise," he replies, reassuring her with a smile and offering his arm for support, “Should you be out of bed? Your maid said that you weren't feeling well this morning."

"It's nothing," Alyssa rolls her eyes and looks at her brother, "You seem worried."

Her green eyes scan the young prince’s face, his brow furrowed slightly and his violet eyes tired. When their gazes meet, Aegon shrugs, and Alyssa, for an instant, sees again the little boy he once was. A nostalgic smile is born on her lips while her hand caresses Aegon's face feeling a stubble that manages to draw a sigh.

“Sometimes I still can't believe how much you've grown in these years,” she says

Now it is Aegon's turn to roll his eyes, though he then takes Alyssa's hand and places a kiss on her knuckles, "While you, mother, look more radiant and beautiful than ever."

The princess can't help but smile at his compliment, "Did they also instructed you in gallantries in Riverrun?"

Aegon chuckles and shakes his head, his gaze drifting once more to the soldiers for an instant.

“Talk to me, Egg. You may be a man now, but I can still tell when something is bothering you, what is it?

There is a moment of silence before he speaks, “I don't know if I am ready. I don't know if I can do it"

She doesn't need to ask what he is referring to.

“You have prepared your whole life for this moment, Aegon, yet it is normal to have doubts. I'd be amazed if you didn't."

“I don't know,” he shakes his head, “Everything suddenly feels real now that I am here again. I feel like I wasted a lot of time living in the Riverlands when I could be here, doing more for the realm. Learning more about my duties."

"You weren't wasting time. You were Lord Kermit's squire and it was an honor for him to receive you these last few years in his ancestral home. The visits you made to the other lords of the Trident were necessary. You were too young to remember much about the war, but you know how important it is to keep the peace. That part of the realm was hit the hardest when our family bled, spending this time with them is a way for the Crown to make amends for what happened."

“I know, I know you are right, it's just…” he trails off, clearly measuring his words, “It's weird to be back. Everything looks the same, but feels different. And suddenly I have all these responsibilities. I understand the burden that weighs on my shoulders, and for that very reason I fear that I am not capable enough”

“This is your birthright,” Alyssa assures him, “I know you will make a fine king because you are a good boy.”

“You say that because you are my mother,” he retorts, dismissing her comment.

Alyssa just smiles.

At some point after her wedding to Aemond, Aegon had begun referring to her as his mother. At first, Alyssa had thought he was doing it by mistake, but when he began calling Aemond father, she knew her little brother was doing it knowingly. It had taken her a while to get used to him referring to her that way, but she hadn't tried to correct him. She hadn't pushed aside the memory of Rhaenyra, either.

No. Actually, the biggest challenge she and Aemond had had over the years was being honest with the children. As much as they tried to isolate them from the bloodiest facts of the war, the rumors and whispers were always there. So, after much discussion, they had explained to Aegon and Jaehaera what had happened, the terrible way their family had split into two factions and fought each other almost to extinction.

“We survived because we understood that House Targaryen must stick together,” she had told nine-year-old Aegon and Jaehaera. Aemond had been mostly silent throughout the entire conversation. He didn't say it, but Alyssa knew that he feared Aegon's reaction to knowing that he had killed his father, “We did many things to keep you both safe and protected, that was always the priority for both of us. For you to be happy, having a better future than ours."

As always, it had been Aegon who had asked the questions. Many of them. And they had responded as sincerely as they could. Jaehaera, on her side, had remained almost silent, her blue eyes more wistful than ever. Alyssa knew that, from time to time, she still had nightmares. And she also knew that the girl, unlike her brother, had experienced firsthand the horrors of war.

In the end, when they had been told everything, Aegon had remained tremendously close to Aemond, assuring that he was the only father he knew and loved.

“I'm saying this because it's the truth,” Alyssa assures him, “Besides, you won't be alone. The small council will help you to rule. As king, it is your duty to listen to them and theirs to advise you in the best way possible. You can trust them. Lord Tyland is a loyal man and I know he loves you well."

"Lord Tyland is a good friend," a soft smile appears on her little brother's handsome face.

"You don't sound convinced"

It takes Aegon another minute to reply.

“I don't want to disappoint you,” he finally admits, “Father has taken good care of the kingdom all these years. I would hate to see all his efforts come to naught on my own."

“Aegon, you could never disappoint us,” she assures him, “We are both very proud of you and your sister. We know that now that we will return to Dragonstone, you both will assume your duties with the best possible disposition and sense of responsibility. The realm is in good hands."

"Do you really have to go?" he asks, his voice denoting for the first time all the nervousness he feels, his face clearly anxious about the task he will have to take on shortly.

“My beloved boy,” she replies with a sigh, taking his hand, “I don't like leaving when you came back so recently, either. But the news was so unexpected and took us so by surprise that we just want…”

"Privacy?" he smiles, “It is fine, mother, I understand. Don't listen to me, I'm being selfish keeping you here when I should have insisted that you leave long ago. You deserve to live this moment as you choose."

Alyssa can't help but feel her tears well up in her eyes as she places her hand on her swollen belly, the baby moving inside her, perhaps sensing how emotional she feels.

"Is something wrong? Should I call Alys?" Aegon asks, noticing a wince on her face.

“No, no, I'm fine, it's normal to be this sore when the moment is so close,” she assures him, “I'm fine,” she repeats, noticing her brother's anxious expression.

And she is.

Discovering that she was with child had been a tremendous surprise. After her last loss in Harrenhal, her moon blood hadn't returned for months. And it hadn't flowed regularly until barely a year ago, though Alyssa had long ago given up hope of being a mother, so she hadn't even taken that fact into account. That was why, upon discovering her pregnancy, she had tried not to get her hopes up too much. But, as the months passed and the baby grew inside her, Alyssa had sent for Alys, immediately entrusting her old friend with the task of taking care of her during her miraculous pregnancy.

"I thought it was impossible," she had said with tears of happiness in her eyes upon seeing the woman after so many years.

"I told you that your body could heal," she had replied, examining her.

Aemond had not left her side for an instant since that moment. And she had had a hard time convincing him that she was fine and that she could carry on with her regular activities since Alys and Jaehaera would keep her company. He had reluctantly agreed, returning to his work with the Small Council.

“We should go to Dragonstone for a while after the baby is born,” he had told her one night a few weeks ago.

"Why?"

“We've waited so long for this,” Aemond had replied, “No, we didn't even imagine it could happen, but now that we'll have our baby after so many years, I want these moments to belong to just the two of us. Or the three of us. At least for a time"

Alyssa hadn't responded immediately.

"You do not like the idea?"

“I like it,” she admits, “But the kids…”

“They are already adults. Aegon is almost eighteen years old. It is time for him to assume his place as king. Besides, we won't be that far. If they need us, they can fly to the island without problem.”

"I guess," she nods.

The idea seems a bit selfish, yes, but the truth is that Alyssa can't wait any longer to meet the baby she's carrying inside. And to imagine that she could get away from the court, from her duties, from the whispers that followed her after so many years of infertility, and simply dedicate herself to watching her little one grow, together with Aemond, is too tempting an idea to pass.

"Let’s go then, for a time," she finally says, "the baby will need its siblings eventually."

"Of course," he smiles, "Besides, knowing those two, they'll surely visit us as soon as they can and we don't even have time to miss them."

Alyssa laughs, "You said the same thing when we sent Egg to Riverrun and he barely writes to us."

"He's young, my love, he must have other things on his mind," the prince kisses her forehead and places his hands on her belly, caressing it and smiling as he feels the baby move under his touch, "Besides, you could have flown with me when I offered it to you”

Alyssa rolls her eyes and doesn't respond. Dragon riding would never be an activity she would choose more than as a last resort. More than once Jaehaera had invited her to ride Morghul, but she had declined.

“I just hope they are okay once we are gone,” she sighs, “they haven't seen each other in years.”

The roar of a dragon and the shadow that casts over them tears Alyssa from her memories, bringing her to the present in the balcony with Aegon.

"Morghul," he says quietly, raising his violet eyes to the sky.

"Why didn't you go fly with Jaehaera?"

Aegon grimaces before shrugging again, "Lord Corlys wanted to talk to me about the situation of the royal fleet”

“Don't drown in your duties just yet, Egg. Aemond is still here, and it won't be long before we return from Dragonstone, you know he likes to feel useful to the realm," they both smile at her affirmation. “You could use some rest. You should take advantage of these days, and spend time with Jaehaera. When you were kids you couldn't wait to mount your dragons. And now that you are both riders, I haven't seen you fly together yet."

"Yes, I might do that"

Aegon sighs and Alyssa watches his expression, which seems to be lost for a few seconds. The princess wonders if her little brother is also worried about staying with Jaehaera in the castle. They had been very close as children, but learning about the war had created a kind of distance between them that Alyssa had thought they had managed to overcome over time. Until Aegon had had to go serve as squire and Jaehaera had resented being left behind.

"You don't have to marry Jaehaera if you don't want to"

"What?" Aegon watches her with wonder in his eyes, his shoulders tense and his brows furrowed once more.

“It's okay if you don't love her that way,” Alyssa explains, “I know it was expected for you to get married and carry on the tradition of our house, but we won't force a union that would make you both unhappy. If there's someone else, perhaps someone you met in the Riverlands,” Alyssa proposes tentatively, “If she's a noble young lady, you could easily make her your queen. Any maiden would be more than happy to marry you."

“And what would happen to Jaehaera?”

“She is a princess, she has royal blood, it would not be difficult to find a husband for her. I think there was talk at one time of betrothing her to the heir of Winterfell. She could… "

"No, no," Aegon cut her off sharply, "Jaehaera will be my wife, my queen."

Alyssa raises her eyebrows, amazed at the possessive, frightened tone she detects in Aegon's voice, "I just thought that…"

“Our feelings are not in question, mother. At least not mine,” he assures her, “It's just that meeting again has cost us a little more than I thought”

Alyssa nods and doesn't answer because suddenly the hooves of a horse hurtling through the castle gate catches her attention. Aegon averts his gaze from the princess, his eyes focusing on Jaehaera, who skillfully climbs down from the animal and adjusts her riding clothes.

The girl seems to sense their scrutiny because her gaze lifts to them, a half smile appearing on her face at the sight of Alyssa.

"Aunt!" she greets a moment later, after almost running to where they were, “What are you doing here? Alys said you should rest. You shouldn't have let her come up here, it could be dangerous,” her last sentence directed at Aegon, an impatient expression on her face as she crosses her arms.

"I didn't know she would get out of bed, I thought she was resting"

"How was your flight?" Alyssa interrupts when she notices that her niece wants to answer

“You know me, I'm always happy when I ride my dragon,” she replies with a genuine smile and Alyssa is amazed, once again, at how beautiful her little girl has become. Her eyes, as blue and long as her mother's, yet her face a feminine version of her father's, "I wasn't far from Dragonstone today."

“Sweetheart, try not to stray too far from the castle next time, it worries me in this weather…”

“No, auntie, please don't start scolding me,” she asks pouting and taking Alyssa’s hands, “Flying is my only refuge these days. I can't be embroidering and reading forever, and not all of us have obligations as noble and important as running a kingdom to keep our days busy."

“I never expressed myself that way,” Aegon replies, sighing.

“I'll go take a bath, I reek of dragon,” Jaehaera says, clearly ignoring him, “I'll see you at lunch.”

The girl kisses her aunt and quickly walks away from them.

***

"I'm frankly worried about those two"

Alyssa is sitting, like every night, on the windowsill. The sea breeze is her best ally now that labor is so close and her body seems to burn from the inside.

"We have to give them time"

Aemond, sitting across from her, strokes her belly gently.

"They don't seem to get along"

"Aegon is crazy about her," Aemond smiles, "He just doesn't know how to approach her."

“And what about Jaehaera? She seems upset every time I see her with him. I will not urge her to do her duty if she is not in love with him."

"Neither would I," her husband assures her, moving closer to Alyssa, "They deserve to know the joy of being married to someone they love, as we have known for almost fourteen years."

Alyssa smiles and reaches out to caress his face. Aemond closes his eye, and presses his face into her hand, a smile playing on his lips.

“It will be fine, being alone is going to force them to confront what they feel”

"Maybe, but..."

Alyssa stops talking as a sharp pain shoots up in her belly. Releasing a gasp of astonishment, she takes her hand to her lower back, trying to massage the area, but another pain as intense as the previous one seizes her again.

"Are you okay?"

“I think… I think you should call Alys. The baby is coming," she replies as she feels a liquid drip between her legs.

There is a moment of absolute silence between the two of them, who only look at each other, half surprised and nervous, before Aemond stands up and calls for the healer.

"Yes, the baby is coming," Alys pronounces a few minutes later, "It won't take long now, princess."

Alyssa clings to Aemond's arm to try to walk, too sore to just lie in bed. Her sweat drenches her nightgown and her messy hair falls down her back and clumps to her face, making her remember the scene so many years ago in Dragonstone, when she was assisting her mother during her labors.

"Is it true? Is the baby to be born tonight?"

Jaehaera is the first to enter the room, still dressed in her dinner clothes. Aegon enters after her a few seconds later.

"Mother, are you okay? They said that…"

He trails off as he watches Alyssa panting, one hand on her belly and one on Aemond's arm.

“Everything is fine,” it is Aemond who answers

“I wish to stay,” Jaehaera says, “I can help.”

“How would you help? You wouldn't know what to do,” Aegon replies.

“I am a woman, we know about these issues by instinct”

Aegon chuckles, “You're not even married, you'd be more of a nuisance. Come, let Alys and her midwives take care of it."

"No, I'll stay," and adds, "You're not the king yet, you don't have any authority over me."

"Enough!" Alyssa almost growls, “Jaehaera, my love, maybe it wouldn't do for you to stay. Births are not always easy. Aegon, take your sister outside and wait there. We'll call you once the baby is born."

Fortunately, they don't protest and leave the room. When they are alone again, Alyssa looks up at Aemond, with an I told you so look on her face, “See now what I mean?”

“It's just banter,” the prince replies, “They'll figure it out.”

"You'd better go to bed, princess," Alys urges her

And she's right because, a few minutes later, Alyssa is in more pain than she's ever known in her life before complete relief and hearing the most beautiful sound she could imagine, her baby crying.

“A girl,” Alys says, picking up a newborn who won't stop screaming and moving her arms and legs.

"Is she healthy?" asks Alyssa

"Is Alyssa alright?" asks Aemond in turn

“They are both very well,” Alys nods, handing the baby into the arms of the princess, who receives her too carefully, her hands slippery with her sweat and blood. The baby stops crying when she feels the contact with her mother’s skin, her eyes remaining open enough to notice her green eyes.

A sound of adoration escapes her throat before tears of happiness roll down her face, her fingers caressing the soft skin of her little girl. Alyssa raises her face to Aemond, who looks enthralled at the little girl, his face serious, but his eye denoting all the emotion he feels.

“Daena,” he whispers close to Alyssa's ear.

“Daena,” the princess confirms, repeating the name they had decided to give her baby just a few days ago, in case it was a girl.

"She is beautiful," Aemond sighs, "She is perfect, just like you."

Alyssa smiles and kisses the little girl's cheek before handing her over to one of her midwives to wash and wrap her up.

Aemond, unable to take his eye off the baby, waits impatiently until the little one is ready and receives her in his arms, cradling her as Alys helps his wife to her feet so the maids can change the bloodied sheets.

“You did a great job, princess,” the woman finally says, “You should rest now.”

“Thank you, Alys, for everything”

The healer nods and leaves the room with the midwives.

“I still can't believe it's real,” Alyssa comments as she feels Aemond sit next to her on the bed.

“She's our miracle baby,” Aemond says, stroking the baby's silver hair with his fingers, “Thank you, my love, you couldn't have given me a better gift.”

“I feel the same to you,” Alyssa replies, kissing her baby, feeling filled of love and adoration.

The noise of a couple of voices starting to get excited outside the door reach them, so they look at each other and sigh.

 “I just hope she's not as a handful as that pair,” Aemond says, half amusement and half seriousness in his voice.

“Well, it will be many years before we get to know that,” Alyssa replies, “Now go, let them get in here before they kill each other. I want them to meet their sister."

Aemond places a soft kiss on both of their foreheads before opening the door and allowing the two kids to enter.

"Oh! She is adorable!" Jaehaera carefully climbs onto the bed, moving closer to Alyssa.

"Congratulations, mother," Aegon smiles as he watches the baby, "and you, father, of course."

Aemond smiles at Aegon and places his hand on his shoulder, patting it, “This is Daena. Your sister"

“Daena,” they almost chant, though Jaehaera smiles, “A beautiful name. I like it"

“I think so too,” Aegon turns away from the prince and stands behind Jaehaera, “I'll take good care of you, little Daena. And I will take you to explore the realm in Stormcloud’s back”

“Yes, but she will ride Morghul first,” Jaehaera replies.

"No, her first ride will be on the king's mount," Aegon looks at her with a smirk.

Jaehaera rolls her eyes, "My dragon is faster."

Aemond clears his throat, "Her first flight will be with her father, and Vhagar."

Alyssa sighs. She had agreed to fly to Dragonstone as it was faster and safer than crossing the sea during the storms they were experiencing. Besides, it was Aemond's dream to fly with his baby like his grandmother had done with his father, and she was not going to take away that illusion.

“You're right,” Jaehaera asserts, a blush rising on her cheeks, embarrassed, “I'm sorry, we're arguing like fools at this happy time. Can I hold her?”

"Of course," Alyssa places the baby carefully in her arms, "Be careful with her head”

“Hi Daena,” Jaehaera says, standing up and cradling her, her nose delighting in the baby scent emanating from her little sister, “I can't wait to have one of my own.”

Alyssa sees that Aemond frowns and wants to comment on his niece's words, so she takes his hand and shakes his head before pointing to Aegon, who has once approached Jaehaera and looks at her, entranced. Jaehaera, feeling her eyes, looks at him and smiles back, pulling Daena closer to the future king.

“You were right,” Alyssa says quietly when her husband returns to her side, “I think they'll figure it out on their own”

“Everything will be fine, my love.” Aemond hugs her and turns his gaze to her daughter. Alyssa rests her head on his shoulder and sighs, filled with relief and happiness to see her family reunited once more.

Yes, everything would be fine.

Because it had been for her and Aemond, and it would be for Jaehaera and Aegon.

And for Daena.

Everything would be just fine.

I have received such support from you guys this past few days!! Thank you so much for reading and giving me your impressions of my story <3

[chidoroki]

182 Days of TPN - Day 168

Chapter 168: "Dad"

I know this is the same room Isabella & Peter were seen having their discussion in back during ch165, but to just have two plain chairs in such a large, empty room seems so extra. Regardless of that, I do like the panel of the trio here, even though they're surprised to find no one here due to the fake footage Peter fooled Vincent with that lead them there.

Dunno how all the kiddos are hearing Peter's message since the teams seem to only have one person with a communication device but whatever. Perhaps he's speaking loud enough for everyone to hear.

Although I have a hard time believing the Ratri men were able to tie up the Adam clones without a fight, I guess anyone will yield once you hold them at gunpoint. Also, the absence of Hayato in this panel is a nice hint to his role next chapter.

While the demon guards don't cause much of a problem during the rest of the story, it still would've been better if the kids killed them off instead of put them to sleep. I get that they didn't wanna kill if they didn't have to, but it would've been one less thing to worry about. Hearing about Sonju & Mujika's execution definitely adds to the stress. Not as much as their deaths could have, but we're thankful Peter was stupid enough to actually wait three days.

Along with all the citizens who drank the evil blood being killed, the Ratri clan and the higher-up demons taking control of the government, let's add the plan to assemble a ton of new Lambda farm into the mix as well. Talk about a big time panic. The premium farms don't sound so bad now huh?

Oh Vincent, you dunno these kids as well as you thought if you honestly believe they would shoot the adults in front of them. Emma, Ray, Don & Gillian couldn't manage to fire a shot at Andrew back when he held Dominic & Alicia hostage after the shelter raid. You're best bet would've been Oliver. This goes back to that old post of mine wondering who, among the kids, would be able to shoot at another human, but I still believe Ray could manage it, if only as a last resort.

The thought of Norman firing at another person was always a toss up for me though. Of course he showed no mercy towards demons during this WM phase, so even with the clear difference between demon and human, I wouldn't have been completely surprised if that cold persona of his came back with a vengeance once he heard Vincent get shot. Peter's been a thorn in Norman side ever since Lambda, so having this bastard personally hurt one of his friends just adds fuel to the fire. Norman (& Ray) did often mention taking down Isabella & Krone back during their GF days if they wanted to escape successfully, so they have level of brutality, it's just been real lowkey. Thankfully none of the children need to get blood on their hands. They've suffered enough already.

Please never say those words with your mouth. No one in this world considers you as that.

Hell yeah Oliver, let him know what's up!! I love that he, Zack & Gillian feel so strongly about the word "dad" because of the relationship they had with Lucas. The same can be said about Ayshe & her father but I can ramble more about all that next chapter.

Favorite panel/moment:

If you've been around me for a while, then you already know how damn hilarious this panel of Norman is to me.

I mean, in context, it's pretty serious, but thanks to a silly edit I've made years ago, I can't look at this panel anymore and not laugh like an idiot. So, now's the perfect time to upgrade it from a noticeable bad edit I made in the car on my phone once upon a time to something more worthy to use every time I lose my mind.

[chloearit]

// discussion of csa and other potentially distressing things

One day I'd found myself alone with nothing to do. I noticed my father's old piano, off in the corner of the living room. It hadn't been used in well over a year, not since I played for him when I turned 14 shortly before his death.

I pulled it out of the corner and sat down in front of it. Started pressing some keys. Memories flashed through my mind. I started playing. After a couple failed starts I managed to play one of the pieces I'd learned almost without error. Then another. Then I just started playing freely.

I almost didn't notice when Nikita walked in the room.

I trailed off and turned to them.

They looked surprised. "You play? ... It sounds good."

"Just messing around... my father made me learn it."

They smiled and walked up to me. "You just keep revealing new skills I never knew you had."

"I didn't get to do much as a kid other than study."

Nika pressed a key. Then a couple more.

I joined in. "Father would make me play for him." I scoffed. "Not to make things weird..."

"Don't ever worry about making things weird," they muttered, tapping away at the keys.

"He made me undress, and then play. I think he got off to it."

"People get off to all kinds of weird things."

That made me pause. I stayed their hands. "How do you know that?"

"Long story." They returned to pressing keys.

"You should get a chair." I looked around the room.

They nodded, and quickly left to get one from another room.

For a moment, there was silence again. I felt Father's hands on my body.

The sound of a chair being pulled up next to me got me out of it. I made room and looked Nikita up and down as they sat.

"Do you know how to play?"

"No," they answered with a smile.

"I'll teach you."

I showed them some chords to play. They learned quickly. After a couple of repetitions, they started speaking while continuing to practice: "I had to find ways to make money after I got away from my parents. You meet a lot of weird people like that, and you hear stories. Obviously I got a lot of the creepier weirdos, but there's a lot of people who are just freaks."

"Like who?"

"One guy I heard of apparently makes his 'partners' play out elaborate death scenes with him. He comes every time without ever once touching himself. And then he just leaves. He's not a pedo though, just a freak, so I've never met him."

"He... acts out killing his partners?"

"No, no, he has them act out killing him."

"Huh."

"I kinda get it though, to be honest."

"What?"

"Have you never thought about what it would be like to get killed?"

I didn't respond. Of course I had, but... "Not like that."

They laughed. "You're so straightlaced."

"I don't think that's a word anyone's ever used to describe me."

"You're not a freak."

"You don't know that."

"What's your secret, then?"

"Huh?" I looked around the room, and paused. "Is anyone else here?"

"For real?" They smiled. "Just you and me."

I took a deep breath. "I get these intrusive... experiences sometimes. I don't know what to call them."

"Flashbacks?"

"No. They're not things that ever actually happened to me. Not like that." I shook my head.

"Fantasies?"

"Weird ones. Scenes of being... raped. Being a little kid and having horrible things done to me. And. I don't know... sometimes they don't feel all that bad? They feel almost nice. I don't... like it but I do... I do get off on it... is that... wrong?"

"Well, if it is, we're both marked for damnation."

"Huh?"

"Lu. You literally kill people for a living. I think that's more morally questionable than whatever you're worried about."

"But, I- I do it because-"

"Because of what they do, right? What they did to you, to me, to other children."

"Yes."

"Not because of whatever odd fantasies they might have. Because of what they chose to do."

"But what if I become like them-"

"You're stronger than that. That's what makes you different from them. You don't just give into your base urges. You care too much to ever hurt someone who's innocent."

"You don't know that."

"Using someone like that is an extremely callous, selfish thing to do. Every normal human recoils at the thought. That's why you're so ashamed of it. That's good. But you're not a bad person if you allow yourself to stop worrying so much about it. There's a big difference between an impure thought and an evil action. I think most people are very aware of where that line is, and they will never cross it, no matter how much they like to indulge in the fantasy. I've known you for a while now, believe me when I tell you, I don't think you would ever cross that line. But if you need my help to feel more secure, I'll help you with that."

"I think I'd appreciate that."

"It's your actions that define if you're a good person or not, and the impact you have on the world. You've helped a lot of people lead better lives. You're a good person, Lúcia."

// by Lúcia and Chloe

[mute-call]

@nineliabilityrisk said: 11:38 PM. Another night shift for Steven. He's just getting settled in to his office for the night, checking to make sure everything is working as it should be, when he spots movement on the cameras. Not an animatronic, obviously, they don't move in plain sight of the cameras — not like this, at least. Someone else is here. It takes no time at all for them to get close to the office – someone familiar with the building? – and Steven is likely about to call someone, or turn to confront them, or whatever protocol is when it comes to intruders — when there's a light rap of knuckles against the metal frame of the right door and Mike's face appears in the dim light of the office. "Hey, Steve. Sorry 'f I startled you – really didn't mean to – and I know I'm not s'posed to be here tonight, but I also know they gave you a double shift—" Steven had spent most of the day keeping an eye on the patrons and had gotten six hours, at most, before he needed to be back to guard the place— "and I was in the area." His eyes dart to the side, face flushes slightly ... a blatant lie. He was probably nowhere near here. He very much went out of his way to do this. "So. Y'know. I brought you coffee." Sure enough, he steps inside, and he has two to-go cups of coffee precariously balanced in one hand, one he keeps turned towards himself and the other he offers out to Steven. He knows how tired the man must be, and he also knows, better than any, that falling asleep in this office would be a death sentence. So sue him, he ... doesn't want that to happen. Not to Steven. After falling silent for a moment, letting Steven take his coffee and helping make sure nothing spills, he seemingly finds the courage to speak up again. "I... Know I really shouldn't be here. I can go, lock up behind me, if you want. But — if you want the company ... I can stay. I promise you won't have to worry about me. I've spent my fair share of time here. One more night won't hurt."

"J-Jesus, Mike, you scared me! Heh. I thought you were an intruder." Which would be worse news for the intruder than for Steven, admittedly, considering what time it is, but still-- juggling police calls and real, human threats sounds a hell of a lot more stressful than the familiar, manageable dangers of the animatronics.

Or maybe he's just so tired that the thought of anything unexpected happening tonight has immediately set him on-edge.

"You--? ...oh, uh, wow, that's--" that's really quite kind.

"Come on, you didn't have to do that. You know I keep myself well-caffeinated here." Steven smiles and picks up his cup of soda from the desk, giving it a slosh or two to demonstrate. He doesn't mean to sound ungrateful-- on the contrary, he's deeply touched by this surprise visit-- but part of him can't help but wonder what in the world Michael's doing here. This isn't like swinging by a friend's place to drop something off; this is Freddy's. At night. Mike definitely knows better.

...which means that it's all the more considerate of him to have come by at all. It's such a big gesture, or at least it feels that way, that Steven isn't entirely sure how to react.

"...thank you." That's a good start.

The coffee has a sharp, pleasant aroma that makes Bell feel more alert even before he's started drinking it. Much better than soda. Taking the cup and cradling it in his hands, Steven basks in its warmth for a moment before looking back up at Michael, shocked again.

"Are you serious?" Company sounds... amazing. Bell is fond of the animatronics, but they're not exactly the best conversationalists at night. Getting to kill time on a night shift with an actual human being (and Michael, of all people!) sounds like a dream come true.

"I-- no, I couldn't ask you to do that." What if something goes wrong? And even if it doesn't, what kind of man feels entitled enough to another person's time that he'd keep them locked in a room for six hours that could and should be spent on getting some much-needed rest?

On the other hand, Michael came all this way. For him. This doesn't feel like an offer made from hollow cordiality.

"But... it's, uh, getting pretty close to midnight." Steven doesn't meet the other man's eyes. "Maybe staying here is safer than trying to head out?" That's the closest he'll come to saying yes, please, I'd love for you to stay.

He hopes the message comes through.

[sege-h]

Thoughts on the State of Play reveal

Under a readmore just in case

1- I know I said I'd keep the Son*dow tag blocked for a bit after Prime ended but I think I'll keep it blocked till the end of the year now lmao

2- I know the rumor has been going around since yesterday but I took it with a grain of salt since it's. Yknow. A rumor. But even when I let myself think 'what if its real tho' this is SO FAR FROM WHAT I EXPECTED. A!!! I thought at most we'd get is a remaster that'd also make Shadow playable! As soon as I saw the new level I was like WAIT WHAT. WAIT WHAT!!?!? and it just kept going from there!!!

I'm so happy we'll be getting a HD biolizard fight! He'll no longer be contained to the 3DS! Also from what little we saw Shadow will get to have some dynamic posing in the boss fights, like Super Sonic did in Frontiers. Good! I loved those!

3- Ian Flynn has #KnowingSmile'd the announcement and I'm hoping this means he got to write for whatever new content there is.

And speaking of Frontiers! I'm hoping that this ends up being Shadow's 'Frontiers' moment. In that his writing and character get what Amy's, Tails', and Knuckles' did in Frontiers.

4-I had the stream off to the side in another tab since I wasn't interested in most of what was shown. And then I heard the first few notes of the Generations music and i immediately switched tabs and I just!!! Feel like I did in 2011 except my computer/internet is way better, and you tube is shittier!

5- I'm excited for this for such Me reasons. For those new here- I live in a country that had no Sonic stuff for...well, never, really. Not until about 2022. The second movie did what I'd hoped the first movie would do (but then the pandemic happened) and brought over Sonic stuff here. For the first time in my life I went to a toy store here and it had Sonic stuff. I got to buy physical Sonic comics for the first time. For the first time in my life I can go to a video game store and actually see Sonic games there. It's been wild

That being said, 2011 had Nothing. Sonic Generations came out. And I didn't want to pirate it because a friend of mine had worked on it. I was determined to find it. And I only saw it irl one time- for the Playstation. A console I've never had. It was pretty upsetting! I remember posting about it here even....I've been on tumblr too long SHDGSHDHS

Later I'd find that there was a 3DS version. I have that! So I looked for that version of it alongside the PC one

So, for almost a decade, I looked, to no avail. And for this whole time I refused to look at any playthroughs! Any knowledge I had on whats in the game came from the trailers we saw

And then in 2019 my best friend helped me buy the 3DS version. I had 9 dollars on my 3DS and whenever the game went on sale it'd be on for 10 dollars. So he gave me a dollar and helped me get it SHDGSHDH

So I finally experienced Generations! It was surprise after surprise in that one, because I knew it was different but I didn't know how. I didn't expect a Rush level in it, or for the Biolizard to be in there!

And then in late 2020 when I got my new computer and could finally get steam, another close friend got me Generations for the PC! I'd somehow managed to dodge spoilers on it all those years so all I knew about it was: Theres Green Hill, Chemical Plant, City Escape, and a Silver boss fight.

I got to play modern City Escape for myself- which is the level that inspired the current iteration of my main OC, Storm. It was a joy

All this rambling to say...it's wild to think that once this remaster comes out, I'll be able to get it day 1, at least I hope I will. Still-it won't take me almost a decade to get to it

And if there's a physical release? I'll be able to go to a store here- HERE, not in one of our neighboring countries, not from somewhere else, but in a store here. Right across the street. And I'll finally have a physical copy of Generations. That was my final goal with the game-- I love it, I have two versions of it! And the plan was always that even though I'd gotten to play them now, if I ever ran into a physical copy of the game, I'd buy it. And now I'll really get to do it

6- Bonus thought of me being silly: Wowow my OC was shown at the State of Play--