#there's actually no time loop in this one

[bats-and-the-birds]

The Batkids on being mistaken as Bruce's biological children.

Look, the Batkids have all been forced into various social gatherings, and enough of them share vague features with Bruce that some of the older members among Gotham's old money, or the younger ones that are out of the loop, sometimes mix up the facts.

Dick gets it from the very beginning. Old women pinch his cheeks, still tan from a life outside of Gotham's gloom, and tell him, Such a sweet little boy, and just like your father at your age. His hair used to stick up just like yours. Dick didn't like it at all. He bit the first person that told him he had Bruce's eyes, and stomped on the foot of an old politician that told him, With your father's height, I thought you'd be taller by now.

He laughs it off as an adult, but sometimes, it still eats at him. People still tell him that they thought he'd eventually be as tall as Bruce, or that he should be thankful for his inherited jaw line. It's not the comparison to Bruce that bothers him anymore, or even being mistaken as his son, but rather, the fact that he sometimes struggles to remember exactly where his features actually came from; parental faces turning fuzzy in his distant memory.

Jason thinks it's funny, the first time it happens. Mostly because it's his nose of all things. Your nose is bent, grumbled the old man sitting across from him at the gala, Just like your father's. Tough luck on the genetics. The man didn't realize the bent noses were because they'd both been broken in the past. Jason spent days after studying Bruce's face, trying to figure out if their noses really bent in the same way, and eventually came to the conclusion that, yeah, they really did. From that point on, each time either of them broke their nose, Jason would distantly think, Ah, damn, there goes the family resemblance.

As an adult, Jason takes care to make sure people don't often seen his face. The hood does a pretty good job of that. Besides, he doesn't move in circles where the mistake could be made anymore. Still, sometimes he looks in the mirror at the bump in his nose and thinks, Family resemblance. Yeah, right.

It happens less with Tim. Anyone that made the mistake with Jason and Dick also remembered Jack and Janet Drake. It's not until he's almost an adult that a new hire at Wayne Industries, some kid from out of town, sees him and Bruce in the office together and remarks, Oh, you two furrow your eyebrows in the same way when you think. My mom says that my dad and I do that too. We inherited it from my grandpa. Tim feels unsettled all day and makes a conscious effort to not to furrow his eyebrows anymore.

There's no mistake to make with Damian. At least, not the same one that can be made with the others. He's the blood son, and he's a perfect mix between Bruce and Talia. Of course, there's the well-meaning, if confused, adults that assume he's adopted like the others. He corrects them, swiftly, and sometimes aggressively.

There is one incident. It happens while Bruce is gone, after he's been staying with Grayson for a few months. He knew, of course, that people thought that Grayson looked like Bruce. He could even see the similarities. Superficially, of course. However, he never considered that Grayson looking like his father also meant that Grayson looked like him. Not until an old woman leaned over to him at a gala and said, You look just like your father when Mister Wayne first brought him out to these things. The hair, that disgruntled little frown. He hated these parties too. Couldn't ever sit still. Gosh, I really can't believe it's been long enough that he has a child of his own. It took Damian a while to realize what happened, and even then, he couldn't bring himself to tell her that he wasn't actually Grayson's son, or that he and Grayson weren't actually that far apart in age. He felt strangely guilty the rest of the night, and he never dared to tell Grayson about it.

It happened to Steph exactly once. Really, she doesn't look like Bruce at all. It was a man with exceptionally thick glasses, who actually told her that she reminded him of Martha Wayne. She's pretty sure he was just trying to be nice. She tries to forget about it. She never tells Bruce.

You have his eyes, is what Duke gets. Which confuses him, because, uh, no, he doesn't. Not even close like Dick's. He says as much to the woman that said it to him, and she squints her eyes at him and responds, No, you definitely do. Not in the shape or the color, but you look at things the same way he does. Duke thinks about that sometimes, and he swings back and forth between being annoyed and weirdly proud that he apparently looked at the world like Batman did.

People tell Cass that she has his smile. She beams with pride at that. After all, she learned it from him. She studied, closely, the way his mouth ticked up at the corners, both while he stretched the dazzling, fake smile across his face for the public, and the genuine, gentle smiles that he gave her while he helped tie her hair back or slip on her mask, and now she could replicate them both perfectly. She didn't like the fake one, but she knew it was necessary.

[yeoldemonster]

I'm in the process of getting an actual pc and it is. not in small part bc I saw monochromatic time loop and went 'huh. so I need to become absolutely insane about this one too?'

like bro you'll know when I play it bc my blog will be nothing BUT isat when it happens

New ask game:

Reblog if you want your followers to tell you what your trademark ™️ is. Like, what’s that thing that really identifies you.

[eternal-love-song]

Has anyone else thought of how messed up Siffrin would be if he had actually escaped the loops when he did everyone's friendship quest? Like, yeah, he would have felt happy and loved and validated, and that would have been great for a while. But it also would have reinforced the idea that he needed to be useful to the party to be loved and that he was doing the right thing by bottling up his feelings and keeping all of his problems inside. How often would he have second guessed telling them something was wrong because he thought that wasn't what they wanted from him? How many more times would he have hurt himself to see them smile? How long would it be until the blow up still happened? And how much more out of nowhere would it have felt to the party? At least in Dormont they had the stress of fighting the king to make it make sense, at least a little, but weeks later? Months later? With them not having noticed the signs? How much worse would that have been? Am I the only one thinking of this?

[quantumfeat72]

i think chara and siffrin would get along!

[kuroo-hitsuji]

I somehow only Just noticed how Lucifer's wings move when he laughs in Surprise Guest interactions and I'm. Kind of obsessed? Like that's inexplicably adorable what

I've been due for some wings brainrot for a while now, hoping this one sticks around for a while afhsfjsf the tails got more than their fair share of my attention i Need to be spinning the concept of wings around in my brain at all times for the next three months At Least--

(Bonus hc infodump in the tags bc I have minimal self restraint)

[stardustandash]

How many fics have you worked on since January?

Worked on about 55? I think? Its hard to calculate as I posted whumptober and febuwhump as individual stories but they exist in one doc each on my computer. I've worked on 6 fics that are either as of yet unposted, unprinted in a zine, or just lost unfinished limbo (I need to work on my merrin-focused post nur fic omg)

2. What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

I guess I've tried to play more with present vs past tense, and finishing multichapter fics before posting. Did try out a time loop for the first time during whumptober and had fun with that!

3. What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)

I feel like Star Wars is the pretty obvious answer, though right at the end of the year here comes Dragon Age with a steel chair after 4 years of not really being involved in the fandom

4. How many fandoms did you write for this year?

Seven, I think! Jedi Fallen Order & Survivor, The Bad Batch, Dragon Age Inquisition & Veilguard, FFXV, FFXVI, Horizon Zero Dawn & Forbidden West, and Twisted Wonderland

5. What ships captured your heart?

As a gen writer its rare for ships to catch me, but thank you Veilguard for giving me Rook x Harding, and M!Rook x Emmrich. (Not a fan of F!Rook x Emmrich sorry yall)

7. What characters captured your heart?

As always Cal remains number 1 in my heart. I love him so much, along with the whole Mantis crew <3 For new this year, I am bewitched body and soul by the Veilguard crew. The writers were cooking with all of them, they're all amazing!!

8. Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

...Does Veilguard count lol? For new fandoms I wrote one FFXVI fic early in the year.

I've got two fics for Rook x Harding and one wip for Rook x Emmrich as new ships!

9. What fic meant the most to you to write?

That's a hard question!! I think I poured a lot of my own personal emotional anguish into a lot of the fics I wrote this year. It's been a rough year for many reasons, and writing out all that angsty hurt/comfort helped a lot

10. What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

I think finishing 'what makes a family' was honestly one of the best feelings ever! And the fact that I still get comments on it from time to time about people binge-reading it.

11. What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

I guess I could go with the above, but actually completing whumptober was pretty satisfying.

12. What fic was the most difficult to write?

'i do not love the bright sword for its sharpness' is at the top of this pile. i think about it constantly but actually writing it is proving super difficult, and it remains unfinished...

13. What fic was the easiest to write?

The one for the Pabu Days zine!! I wrote the first draft in just over an hour, and it was about 1k too many words lol

14. What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

of the ones written entirely in this year, 'take a breath before the plunge' wins with its 11k words. If we count just completed this year, 'what makes a family' wins at just shy of 70k

The shortest was one of the whumptober fics, 'where flesh and metal meet'

15. What were your go-to writing songs?

The Horizon games' soundtracks! Less of a song list, but there's too many to put in here.

What was the hardest fic to title?

...all of them. Titling things is the hardest part of writing fics

16. What's your favorite title of the year?

Love and Blood Both Run Red, or maybe Cold But For Your Company

17. Share your favorite opening line

In some way, Tech thinks, it is poetic to die for his family.

From here, at the bottom

18. Share your favorite ending line

He turned, and came face to face with a skull staring back at him. There were holes through the skull, and though everything had been decayed by time, Cal could still see that the skeleton wore Jedi robes.

From then there was nothing

19. Share your favorite piece of dialogue

ooh i don't know! If its humorous then assume its one of my favourites

20. Share your funniest line

see above

21. What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

I think being able to slip back into old fandoms and characters for whumptober was a surprise. it didn't change the story but it was surprisingly quick to get back into things i hadn't touched in years

22. What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

I use microsoft word for all my fics. which isn't great for longform fic and probably why i don't write too much of it

23. If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

Again, actually managing to complete whumptober felt really good!! I've never managed to finish a writing challenge like that so it was a really proud moment

24. Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

I don't think I've ever done anything?? Though I am thinking about starting a lil scrapbook of comments or smth like that

25. How did you recharge between fics?

what is this recharge you speak of? I am either possessed by ideas that demand attention or left in a drought of creativity

26. Did you create fanworks other than fic?

I do playlists for myself sometimes. I have ones for Cal, Crosshair, and Omega right now. I constantly wish i had the patience to improve my art skills to do fanart

27. How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

4 if you count febuwhump and whumptober. I'm in a Bad Batch zine that's in preorders right now - Pabu Days, and participating in a fic/art exchange for new years for Twisted Wonderland

28. If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

firstly I'd like to thank my cat for being the one to hear me talk out plot points and details. I'd also like to thank @pennflinn and @breakfastteatime for being both supportive of all my j:fo fics as well as being inspirations themselves in that fandom! And the whole j:fo fandom at large for being awesome and supportive of each other's works. And I need to mention @fanfoolishness for joining me in not one, not two, but THREE! fandoms here!! As well, shoutout to @shadowcrow for yelling on my rook x harding fics! it's a small corner of the fandom but at least it's got you there!

29. What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

Finish this fic for the new years exchange, and get another chapter of Blood and Love Both Run Red up! Though it may only be one of those that happens...

30. What would you like to write next year?

I wanna finish bright sword and get that post nur Merrin fic postable! And since I'm currently consumed by Veilguard I wanna write more of that next year too!

A slightly revised version of last year's questions! Two ways to play: Reblog and have your followers send you numbers, or answer the whole list!

How many fics have you worked on since January?

What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)

How many fandoms did you write for this year?

What ships captured your heart?

What characters captured your heart?

Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

What fic meant the most to you to write?

What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

What fic was the most difficult to write?

What fic was the easiest to write?

What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

What were your go-to writing songs?

What was the hardest fic to title?

What's your favorite title of the year?

Share your favorite opening line

Share your favorite ending line

Share your favorite piece of dialogue

Share your funniest line

What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

How did you recharge between fics?

Did you create fanworks other than fic?

How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

What would you like to write next year?

[jeonscatalyst]

Whenever I see people scrambling to dismiss the possibility that Jimin and Jungkook might be more than friends by resorting to arguments like “They’re brothers” or “Jimin said Jungkook is like his brother,” I can’t help but feel perplexed.

It’s genuinely baffling to me because, what did you expect Jimin to say? “Jungkook is my lover”? The lack of awareness in such arguments is striking, and honestly a little disheartening especially when it’s clear that many of these people haven’t taken the time to understand even the basics of queer history, the reality of being closeted, or the necessity of concealing relationships to protect oneself and loved ones in the face of societal prejudice.

When people bring up these points, I find myself asking the question “When did Jimin and Jungkook officially come out as a couple?” The answer, of course, is they haven’t. So why would anyone expect them to act in ways that are only possible for people who are openly out? If our (Jikookers) speculations about them are correct, it’s likely they are still closeted and may even be hiding their relationship from close friends and family.

This opinion might be unpopular, especially among jikookers who believe that if Jimin and Jungkook are together, their families would undoubtedly know. But I don’t think it’s that simple. In my experience, coming out isn’t an easy or universal process. It’s deeply personal and often influenced by cultural, familial, and societal factors, particularly in environments where homophobia is pervasive. I’m not going to go into the nitty gritty of why I think their parents and families might not be looped in because for many, unless you’ve lived it, known someone who has, or experienced such societal pressures firsthand, it’s difficult to fully grasp the complexities involved……..So I truly don’t see them letting their parents and families in on things as easy as many people believe it would be.

I think Jimin and Jungkook present themselves to the world as they believe the world sees them: bandmates, friends, and “brothers” from the same town. This aligns with public expectations and offers them a layer of protection. So how else would people expect them to describe their relationship?

Some might argue that they could avoid using terms like “brother,” altogether but let’s be realistic here……it likely doesn’t bother them. They know they’re not actually brothers and probably don’t view each other in that way. What’s more, I doubt they have any desire to let the public into the deeply personal aspects of their lives. While there may be a part of them that wishes to be accepted and loved for who they truly are, they likely understand that this isn’t a viable option right now.

The fear of opening a Pandora’s box of judgment and backlash likely keeps them from revealing anything beyond the surface. If calling each other “brothers” or even something as absurd as “father and son” ensures the safety of their bond, they’ll do whatever it takes to protect themselves and their relationship. That, unfortunately is what closeting sometimes entails so before you rush into my inbox thinking you’ve got a gotcha moment, remember this.

I hope people come to realize that this situation is far more complex than it seems. It’s easy to oversimplify or underestimate the challenges Jimin and Jungkook and other closeted people in homophobic societies might face but it’s crucial to remember that not everyone shares the same privileges or cultural realities. Not every society or culture is as accepting as yours might be. Not everyone has the opportunity to live their truth openly and without fear. You may not understand their choices, and you might not even relate to their struggles, but that doesn’t give you the right to dismiss or minimize them simply because their experiences don’t mirror your own.

Empathy and understanding are essential. Respect the fact that their journey, whatever it may be, is shaped by circumstances most of us can’t begin to imagine.

[ilovecatfr]

Getting Comfortable in the State of Preparation

Why Shifters Often Get Stuck Here

Have you ever caught yourself spending hours making scripts, mood boards, and playlists for your Desired Reality (DR) but rarely (or never) actually attempting to shift? You’re not alone—this is super common in the shifting community or so I noticed after one of my posts. Many shifters fall into a pattern of preparation, where the process of getting ready feels more comfortable than the act of shifting itself.

Why Shifters Get Stuck in Preparation

1. Preparation Feels Safe

Making scripts and mood boards gives you a sense of control and progress. It’s exciting and comforting because it connects you to your DR without the frustration or fear of a failed attempt.

2. Perfectionism

Feeling like you need the perfect script, playlist, or method before you shift. This turns into an endless cycle of preparation because you never feel “ready enough.”

3. Dopamine Rush

Planning triggers a dopamine release—the thrill of imagining your DR can be addictive! It gives you a taste of your DR without actually shifting, so it’s easy to keep doing it.

4. Community Validation

Sharing your playlists, scripts, or mood boards in the shifting community can feel nice. It’s a way to bond with others, but it can also make the focus shift (pun intended!) from actual shifting to just the idea of shifting.

5. Procrastination as a Defense Mechanics

Procrastination is often rooted in fear. For some shifters, it’s easier to stay in the “preparation” phase.

6. Overwhelm

With so much information out there about shifting methods and scripting, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed. Instead of figuring out where to start, many shifters default to preparing because it feels more manageable.

How to Break Out of the Preparation Loop

If you find yourself stuck in this cycle, here are some tips that may help you refocus on actual shifting:

1. Shift the Focus to Actual Attempts

Remember that prep work is meant to support your shifting journey, not replace it. Set clear intentions for when you'll shift and stick to them.

2. Limit Prep Time

Give yourself a specific time frame for scripting or making mood boards (e.g., one day to make your script/ 1 hour a day for week). Then spend the rest of your time focusing on shifting.

(make sure to not be overwhelmed if you set a specific time that you are not comfortable with)

3. Visualize Instead of Overplanning

Focus on feeling like you’re in your DR. You don’t need every detail scripted; your subconscious can fill in the blanks.

(for people who feel like they can't trust their subconscious: your subconscious is YOU, it knows what you want. Your subconscious is never going against you; it always working with your desires you only need to allow to give it to you)

4. Try a “Prep Detox”

Take a break from all the prep work and focus solely on shifting for a few days. You might find it easier to connect with your DR this way. You'll see how easier shifting will become when you focus your energy on actually doing it rather then on finishing your script or making a new Pinterest board (no shade)

5. Reframe the Habit

See scripting and playlists as stepping stones, not the destination. Keep reminding yourself: the real reward is your DR, not the finished script.

6. Consistency Over Perfection

You don’t need to feel perfectly prepared to shift. Trust that you yourself is enough.

Getting stuck in the preparation stage doesn’t mean you’re not capable of shifting. It’s just a habit, and like any habit, it can be shifted (pun intended again)! Remember, your DR is waiting for you—it’s time to take that leap! :)

[nopaintjustpain]

It just… takes longer to bring him home, when Jon doesn’t catch it early.

He comes back from a walk through the hills to find the safehouse’s kitchenette glimmering with rime, a veil of mist curling around his ankles. He drops his coat in a pile by the door and rushes through to the little sitting area between the kitchenette and the parlor, finding Martin’s indistinct outline at the breakfast table with a stone-cold mug of tea in front of him.

Fuck. Poor Martin. How long had he been sitting there, slipping? He’s nearly all gone.

[Ficlet posted with permission and collaboration from OP. 🫶 Thanks bestie]

This is the worse it’s been since Jon pulled him out of the Lonely. A sickening frisson of fear rips down his spine at the thought that it wasn’t enough. That Jon’s effort, his love, his desperation to save the only good person he has left, will never be enough on its own to just keep him once and for all.

“Oh, Martin… my love,” he sighs. He approaches and, despite the radiating chill and the heavy, metallic scent of rain-soaked sea air, perches on his lover’s lap. The man’s thighs are cold and rigid. Like sitting on the icy headstone of a grave in winter, where the chill has seeped in deep through the pores and cracks of the rock.

Jon loops his arms around where he approximates Martin’s shoulders are amongst the indistinct, shifting mass of blur that is Martin. He makes a similar approximation in order to touch their foreheads together. He stares into his lover’s eyes and Knows him: the faint, hot buzz of his patron’s power coiling hatefully in the back of his skull and the nape of his neck. He’s been trying so hard not to use it. But this… this warrants an exception.

Martin’s outline solidifies just that little bit more, the longer Jon turns the Eye’s gaze upon him.

“Come on back to me, Martin,” he coaxes. There isn’t much there for him to kiss yet. So instead, Jon narrates the most minute details of his walk just now. The pale butterflies he saw. Couple of rabbits. Almost taking a wrong turn. Hiding behind a rock to avoid a pair of villagers on a walk of their own. The inane thoughts he had over breakfast. (Should he cut his hair? He trimmed it a bit since the wild tangle it’d been left in after he awoke from his coma, but there’s still a lot of length left. Too much? He’s not sure. He knows Martin likes to run his hands through it, though.)

And on that note, he spends a little longer than necessary lauding the skill and strength and gentle goodness of those hands, most importantly when they are playing with his hair and rubbing away the building throb of a stress headache. As Jon so often asks of them. He whispers gently,

“I could actually use a little of that tonight, now that I think about it. Haven’t been sleeping as well. You’ll oblige, won’t you?”

A soft, affirmative hum. Martin’s head turns just a fraction up and to the side as if to face Jon more fully, though that pale gaze is still fixed on some point in the middle distance. His shape is clear now. Just still so cold. Jon counts it a victory. Martin is, and always has been, a caretaker at heart. Jon’s noticed — much as he hates the implications — that Jon’s needing something is the most straightforward way to summon Martin back. Not for Martin. Not for himself. But because Jon needs him.

“Thank you, my love. You’re good to me,” he sighs sadly, and leans down to kiss the dew from those cold, cold lips, shivering as he does so. He’s never retained body heat well. Martin is the one who keeps their bed warm. He curses Peter Lukas’s dead name a million times more for daring to rob the world of that warmth, even temporarily. Without it, Jon’s fingertips grow numb. Still he doesn’t let go.

Lacking further topics to babble about, Jon lets himself go there. He might as well. Martin doesn’t hear him when he’s this far gone. Not the words, anyway. Just the tone of voice, the haze of distant ‘Jon-ness’, as Martin affectionately calls it, serving as a lighthouse on the shore. Martin will hardly notice if the light turns a little red from righteous bloodthirst.

“I hate what Lukas has done to us. What he’s still doing. Even dead, he’s found a way to screw with us. To hurt you. Makes me wish I had some link to the End so I could bring him back and kill him again.”

A long pause.

“…Sometimes I wish it had been bloodier. Uglier,” he admits aloud for the first time. “He died in the worst way possible, for him. Known. Seen. But I… even though I Know he died in agony, there’s just this… I keep remembering the mess Elias made of Leitner. The blood everywhere… He didn’t deserve that, least of all from Elias, but I hated that pathetic old man. Beating him to death must’ve been so satisfying. The way Peter Lukas died? It satisfied the Eye. But it didn’t satisfy me. I’d have liked to have had a knife in my hand. Would’ve liked the blood. Just for him, you understand. I wouldn’t ever want to feed the Hunt, or the Slaughter. But with him, it’s personal. I’ll never forgive what he did to you. And a year from now I’ll find his grave on the anniversary of his death so I can piss on it, just for good measure.”

A chuckle, faint and distant as wind over rocks on the moorland. But Martin’s eyes focus on Jon’s face, the hint of an amused smile toying with his lips, and hands slide up Jon’s back to rest across his shoulders. Cold as blocks of ice, but Martin’s not so rigid anymore and the chill doesn’t permeate so deep. His lap is more comfortable now.

“I like when you get a little… vicious. Is that wrong of me?”

“Probably,” Jon huffs as he shifts to get more comfortable on his perch, with the tone of voice that says he’s not particularly bothered by it, and perhaps even pleased to hear it.

He can’t help a shudder as Martin draws him closer for a frigid hug. Martin notices and draws back with a concerned flinch. His face is still oddly blank, eyes without light, but at least he’s present enough to take notice of things now.

“I’m sorry, are you cold?”

“When you’re not around? Always,” Jon whispers, and leans in to hug him anyway.

The warmth will come back.

It always does.

Sometimes Martin goes away for a while

He always comes back, but its easier when Jon speaks to him

[t1ts-4-donaldson]

Cam Boy!Art Donaldson x Shy Reader part 2

“Come on it’s alright” Art scoots your body down to his pelvis his hard shaft bumping against your pussy making a shiver run up your spine smirking as you quiver beneath him, “this is just practice for when we start filming later.” He caresses your hip attempting to comfort you.

“Alright relax” he mumbles and squeezes your bent legs together by your knees kissing one before pushing his dick between your squished thighs, his head falls back as he glides it back and forth a loud ‘fuck’ and low grunt leaving his throat.

He looks down at you gaze lingering on your flushed cheeks and fucked out eyes before drifting down between the both of you the way you’re milking his cock, pre-cum glazing your stomach. His eyes jolt back up to your as you hold back a moan, one of your hands clasped over your mouth from embarrassment. He slaps your hand away and grips your cheeks tightly. “Don’t hold back I wanna hear how good I’m making you feel.” He grumbles.

You nod pathetically barely registering what he’s saying so focused on trying to make his dick slide inside you, hips jolting up trying to meet his hard member. You pout when his pace slackens and he smiles realizing what you want.

“Want me to fuck your your pussy?” His eyes darken as you huff and nod his smirk widens “you’re serious? I only ever touched you once and you wanna fuck already” he mocks.

You wince and cover your face with your hands humiliation over-riding your thoughts ‘fucking idiot’ loops in your brain, wondering if your desire comes off as pathetic desperation, you want to run away you slowly shift up onto your elbows when he shoves you back down against the bed by your neck.

“Say it” he mutters completely stilling his movements. you frown looking down at his cock, how good it’s making you feel and he can see it on your face you’re too scared to admit how much you want him. How you want to tell him to fuck off and get on with ruining you. Especially when you roll your eyes and try tugging the hand clasped around your neck.

“Say it or I’m walking out that door.” His eyes leave yours looking up briefly across the room. You scoff watching as he sits back on his ass letting go of your legs. He’s bluffing but you don’t buy it, feeling hurt that he’d leave you high and dry so you give in shoving down any shame you feel. “Fuck my pussy please.” You stammer voice cracking pitifully.

“Aw..” He mock pouts. “That’s all I wanted my good girl to say..”

Your heart hammers at the words ‘his good girl’ the idea of being his, him wanting you around more than just something to fuck or corrupt warming you up inside. He catches the look on your face the admiration and longing in your glassy eyes.

He feels guilty not feeling the same way yet

So he relents opening your thighs again and leaning forward pressing a soft kiss against your lips, lingering a bit before his hand shifts to the back of your neck pulling you up to sit.

“Spit,” he cups his hand out and you oblige his mouth slackens as a bit of drool drips down your chin, he gulps trying to keep his composure bringing his hand to his dick pumping it until it’s slick.

He takes a hold of it running it up and down your cunt, wet and ready for him. He opens your folds teasing your clit with the head of his cock slowly moving down pressing up right against your entrance.

He grunts as it flutters around the him but he hesitates and stops feeling you’re not ready even if you’re begging for it. He wants it to be good, perfect even he won’t take advantage of you

Instead he whispers an ‘I got you’ and adjusts your body molding your legs together again and shifting your ass so it’s laid on his thighs.

You stop him hand gripping onto his arm “aren’t you going to um..” you flush red trying to spit out the words “fuck me?” You whisper

He grins softly and shakes his head “next time.. I want it to be special.” You blush at the scene playing out in your head confused that he actually cares but reluctantly nod a sliver of a smile on your face.

he sighs satisfied and glides his shaft between your wet folds pushing his cock down so it manages to stay snug.

He notices how much you like it, entranced by the way your body clenches up, the way you cup your tits and tug at your skin craving some sort of stability. He cries out surprised when you take initiative moving on your own accord gyrating up and down meeting his quick thrusts.

A small moan leaves your lips you both move faster desperate for release his fingers clasping the flesh of your thighs indents surly to show tomorrow.

You gather up the courage to slither your hand down your stomach onto his dick, hand softly pressing his cock head down making sure it hits your clit every time he lunges forward in tandem helping Art fuck into your closed palm.

“Shit you’re perfect” he whimpers at the new sensation his motions becoming sloppy.

“Thanks.” You squeak and he laughs “so innocent” he whispers but his patience is wearing thin.

His pace quickens and you gasp at the friction the onslaught aggression making the squelching between your legs louder.

your eyes shut closed from how good is feels but Art refuses “let me see, open your eyes now” he pleads urgently needing to see you fall apart.

He falls forward unable to hold back anymore his hands gripping your torso pummeling you loud ah’s echo throughout the room as Art tries to hold back his impending orgasm his fingers meeting your clit rubbing circles around the sensitive nub, “come please.. can’t hold it-“ he swears face and chest red from exertion.

Then your orgasm hits you like lightning, body jolting up from the mattress, your hands reach up trying to grab hold of him but you writhe on his bed instead.

That was it for him 3 hard thrusts later and he comes undone a load moan ripping through his chest with each hard pump. Watching you cum making him unravel.

His ears ring from his release when your whimpers snap him out of his lust filled stupor as his name repeatedly slip through your lips.

he sees your hands reaching out for him through his blurred vision looking for some ease it tugs at his heartstrings

he releases his hold and your legs drop completely limp as he holds your hands running his thumb over your knuckles. “You did so good” he mumbles hovering over you encasing your body under his nuzzling his face into your neck. You smile softly heat radiating from your body feeling like your skin is on fire, beads of sweat littering your forehead, “sorry I’m sticky.” You whine uncomfortably.

Art rolls his eyes and smashes his mouth on yours, “it’s fine” he slurs sucking your bottom lip and pulling back with a pop. He takes a moment to catch his breath before sitting back and looking at his masterpiece.

Your beautiful face completely fucked out, breathing ragged chest rising and falling quickly.

That’s when he notices his spunk coating your belly “So filthy” he snorts gathering his load and smearing the remenants on your face wanting to see you dirty, covered in him.

he laughs as you cringe

[vampirewuwu]

Is episode 7 really fan service?

I’ve seen people who don’t really like Timebomb claiming that episode 7 is fanservice because of the ship itself but is it actually? Now we know that Timebomb is a popular ship in the Arcane fandom along with CaitVi and JayVik, the ship got pretty big and, like CaitVi, got attention from the people involved with the show. Reed Shannon ( Ekko’s VA ) is shown to be very supportive of the pairing along with Amanda Overton ( Arcane’s writers ). So let’s go talk about the episode along with debunking.

So Ekko has not appeared in act 2 at all and we wonder as to why he didn’t show up, it turns out that he was in an alternate universe which being that what would’ve happened if everything was okay.

We see him countering Adult Powder, he got cautious around her until he sees Benzo being alive but it’s not only him being alive but the others as well. Ekko ends up running into Heimerdinger and has a conversation with him about going back to their own universe until Powder accidentally interrupts their conversation by telling Ekko that she’s going to visit Vi and invites him over.

This turns out that despite everything in the AU being okay, it ended up taking Vi’s life instead, Ekko being confused as to how she died ends up asking Powder questions that weren’t really the best to ask her, she finds it very insensitive that she refuses to talk to him. The scene cuts to Ekko walking but the setting that he was walking on was actually the bridge where him and Jinx fight on, he started having a flashback of him looking over her unconscious body before it ended. Now we see him and Heimerdinger having a conversation about finding a way back to the universe and notice how Ekko was scooting over for Powder to see him? Powder did see him, Ekko gave a smile but she looks away thus leaving him feeling bad about what he asked her. He ends up painting a memorial of Vi as not only a way to ask for her help but to apologize. Now during the heartfelt conversation of them speaking about Vi, we can see that he’s still thinking about Jinx when he was speaking to her but then we get this quote “Sometimes taking a leap forward means leaving a few things behind.”

Now during the scene where Ekko, Powder and Heimerdinger were building the time loop, I’ve seen people pointing out which I didn’t know but it started making sense that Powder knows that this was definitely not her Ekko because of her looking at the notebook and the look that she was giving him like she knows that something’s off but just chooses not to force it out of him.

Now going to the party scene where Powder and Ekko have this romantic moment of them dancing together, during this scene, we see them siting together while watching the sky. We had a heartfelt moment of Ekko admitting that he dreamed of the undercity to be like the alternate universe and Powder comforting him. Ekko did ask if she ever wish she could just stay in one moment to which Powder responded the same thing that Ekko had said to her, “Sometimes taking a leap forward means leaving a few things behind.” Powder was about to lean in for a kiss but due to this being Ekko’s first kiss, he hesitated and ask her if they can pretend that it’s their first kiss to which they did.

Now I’m not sure if Ekko gave her that necklace but it does have his and Powder’s silhouette but if he did, it was definitely something for her to remember him by.

When Ekko was ready to go back to his own universe, Powder comes in to check up on him to find an unconscious body of her Ekko. This is the moment where Powder first sees Ekko and what I love about this moment is when Ekko at first gave her a sad look but then gave a heartwarming smile, it looked like he was about to wave a goodbye when he leaves.

I’ve seen people claiming that Ekko doesn’t love Jinx but loves Powder, I will say that this is false and ridiculous to say because they are both the same person. If we are talking about AU Powder then I will still say that this statement is false because if he only loved her and not Jinx then he would’ve just stayed in the AU.

I’ve seen people say that Jinx hates Ekko or doesn’t care about him. This is later debunked by the official artbook of Arcane where we see Jinx’s doodles, when we see Ekko on the page, she draws hearts around him and there is this walkthrough event where along with her doodles, we see the “Ekko + Jinx” on the wall and if she were to hate him then she wouldn’t bother helping him.

So this all comes down to the question, is episode 7 pure fan service? I would honestly say no as Ekko wasn’t out of character in this episode. I know that people will say “But Jinx killed a friend of his” or “But he ended up hitting her on the bridge” and I feel like people forget that this pairing is a enemies to lovers troupe ( also Ekko was defending himself when she was about to shoot him ). Enemies to lovers troupe is extremely popular when it comes to pairings such as Batman and Catwoman as an example. I have also seen people say “Ekko all of a sudden falls in love with her” and I want to point this out that Ekko didn’t randomly fall in love with her, the two were childhood friends and it’s been hinted that Ekko has a crush on her when they were kids.

The one thing that I will agree with is that Ekko and Jinx need more interactions as we have been told that there was more interactions in Act 3 but it was unfortunately cut. It does make me disappointed since we could’ve had more interactions to show but from what Christian Linke ( Arcane’s co-creator ) said, he has stated that their story is worth continuing so maybe we might get more of their interactions in the future if they ever appear in the spinoffs.

[ohithankyou]

very very rough idea but bucktommy time loop where buck keeps reliving the period of time from their anniversary dinner-date to their breakup over and over again—the day resetting once tommy leaves. essentially, once buck realizes he’s in a time loop, he tries to keep the breakup from happening by changing some event, moment, or decision he believes led to it.

ex; he doesn’t fluster around the girl/tells him he’s with his boyfriend celebrating their anniversary, becomes familiar with the kinsey scale, tells tommy about abby earlier and earlier in the timeline on every loop, skips the conversation with maddie and josh or talks to someone else, has the conversation with them but addresses different aspects of his relationship with tommy (maybe asks josh about the kinsey scale in one loop and uses it in the next), doesn’t ask tommy to move in, says i love you instead of asking him to move in, decides against having the conversation and goes to the movie as planned, changes the speech he gives tommy before asking him to move in, when tommy says “what’s up?”, he accepts his advance, tells tommy not to leave when he tells him bye, tries chasing him down, has the conversation about where tommy sees their relationship going when they spend the night together after their anniversary dinner, etc etc etc.

and all of that happens but in the end, it always ends with them breaking up and tommy leaving and i don’t exactly know how it would get there, but eventually buck realizes the breakup happens because it’s meant to in order to help them grow and come back together stronger in the near future and that if they wouldn’t have broken up then, they would eventually later down the line because of the same reasons and issues except then it would be permanent because of the ways they would’ve hurt each other by then

i also imagine all canon events are included in this scenario, as well as missing moments that they likely spent together (the night post-anniversary dinner and the morning after) + other original scenes sprinkled in between the anniversary dinner to the breakup (if they’d actually went to the movie). of course, while canon events are included, they’re bent, twisted, etc as the time loop continues

[violenteconomics]

for cater diamond, it starts like this:

cater diamond is made up of lies.

his hair and outfit are designed to give off an air of carefreeness, even when his heart is tearing his chest into ribbons, perfectly planned down to the tiniest wrinkle. he runs all of his words through his head over and over before he says them, navigating every interaction like he's trying to get the perfect run in a video game (and idia would probably appreciate that metaphor if he heard it, maybe cater should bring it up to him, see how it makes him tick—). even his smile has been meticulously manufactured, every little twitch and idiosyncrasy based on the influencers he sees on magicam.

not that anybody really knows about any of this, of course. he's a professional, after all.

all of that to say that cater is a good liar. a great one, even.

one day, ace walks into the kitchen with serious bed-head, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

cater is leaning against the kitchen counter (looking just ruffled enough to appear as if he's just woken up, but still put-together enough to keep up the chill senior persona he's spent the better part of two years cultivating — a look he's mastered after watching the first ten seconds of neige's "morning routine!" video on loop) when he sees the red-head shambling in.

he smirks (corner of his lips tilted 42 degrees up, eyebrows slanted approximately 12 degrees down) and leans his head against his hand. "what's up, sleeping beauty?"

"good mornin', senior," ace grumbles, sounding way too pissed off to actually mean it.

that's what cater likes the most about ace and deuce. they don't feel the need to mask as much as everybody else does in this school. if they have feelings, they'll let you know it almost immediately — ruthlessly in acey's case, and involuntarily in deucey's case. either way, it's kind of cute.

and refreshing. even cater, social butterfly extraordinare, gets tired of analyzing every little bit of somebody's mood and personality and conversational style, in attempt to weaponize them as he tries to achieve the perfect outcome everytime he talks to someone. after two whole years of trying not to trip over any of riddle's landmines (which were actually just his hundreds upon hundreds of trauma responses, as it turns out), cater would've sworn off talking to anybody for the rest of ever if he weren't more of an expert at deceit than that.

it's easy to talk to ace and deuce, comparatively. if they have an opinion, they make it known, even if it's not night raven college-approved. they don't care about what anybody else thinks. for someone who cares about what everyone thinks at all times with no limits on when, where, or who, it's certainly a novelty.

they're different — but cater likes that. they're emotional. they're understanding. they're great underclassmen, even if they don't realize that (and probably never will, because cater's definitely not gonna say anything about it).

cater scrolls through the "#diybreakfast" tag on magicam to hunt for a cute breakfast place he could snap pics of for some more views. "so how'd'ya sleep? deuce didn't try to wrap you up in his 24/7 study sesh, did he?"

ace puts a hand on the back of his neck and groans. "i slept fine. kept waking up because of deuce's loud-ass chewing, though. seriously, who is that noisy when they're eating blueberries?"

cater laughs and pretends the conversation is over.

pretends he didn't notice the way ace hesitated for the briefest of moments before answering cater's simple question.

pretends he didn't notice the way ace rubbed his neck a little too hard to be casual, as if cater didn't use to have that exact same habit whenever riddle took his collar off of him.

pretends he didn't notice the tiny stutter in ace's "i slept fine".

(pretends he didn't say the exact same words, practically verbatim, every time trey asked him if he slept well during their second year at night raven college.)

(because he's supposed to be the unbothered one. he might actually crumble into a pile of misery if he has to let go of that idea.)

(maybe it's the same for ace, too.)

(it might be fake strength, but it's something to hold onto, nevertheless.)

because nobody else would've noticed that. nobody else craves validation so much to even bother. so if he's pretending to be cool and self-assured and confident and everything else that he's not, why would cater?

"damn it, we're out of cereal." ace groans, slamming the pantry door shut with a bit too much force.

the worst thing about being a great liar?

it's incredibly sobering when you meet someone who is almost as good as you.

I am in dire need of more of that AU that The First years get The upperclassmen toxic traits,i realy want more of It,like;

A way to include octavinelle and scarabia,maybe like,3 First years(Ace,deuce,Jack) get some of azul's toxic traits,other Three(epel,ortho and sebek) get Jamil toxic traits and yuu get both

Second thing

More reactings please,i NEED The staff,ALL The dorms and even the relatives seeing The First years developing those toxic traits,the overblots+Trey and cater for deuce getting their toxic traits right back at their face i beg you🙏🙏

anything 4 u, baby.

(but for real, though, this is an AMAZING idea, love you so much for tilling the ground for my brainwormies, mwah mwah 😘)

(also, this might get REALLY long, so hang tight!)

it was just a seed at first — a tiny idea that stuck around despite the first-years not even realizing it was there. but as the poison from their actual housewardens starts to develop into something truly deadly, so does that seed. it shows up later... but it makes itself known nevertheless.

ace, deuce, and jack have all worked for azul at the mostro lounge at one point, and though it was a very brief moment in time, it was just long enough to worm its way into their heads.

it starts with ace trappola, who's already pretty slippery with his words. but working at the mostro lounge, taking subconscious note of all the underhanded deals azul is making, he starts to pick up new... skills, let's say.

it starts small, with ace starting to give out certain favors to his fellow freshmen to earn some money. if you give him ten thaumarks, he'll do one of your everyday chores for you — dusting your room, cleaning your bathroom, making dinner, what have you. if you give him fifteen thaumarks, he'll do your homework if you don't feel like doing it, or take class notes for you if you don't feel like showing up. if you give him forty, he'll help you with something less-than-moral and definitely against the rules (he did it once back at the atlantica memorial museum — he can do it again).

there's an obvious power imbalance in all of these scenarios, but ace effortlessly words in a way that makes it seem like it's a win-win situation, when in reality, it's more like a zero-sum game.

it gets to the point where ace builds a black-market sort of reputation, and all of the freshmen know that if you need something done, ace is the person to go to.

...but then, something shifts.

at some point, ace starts a black-mailing campaign for the people who paid for the forty-thaumark favor. if you don't want your secret — one that might get you expelled, suspended, or worse — getting out, then you can pay for ace's silence with a favor or more money.

the worst part is: there's no way out. if you try attacking ace, it'll seem like you assaulted him for no reason, since if you try to explain he was blackmailing you, you'll have to tell them what he was blackmailing you with, which you obviously can't do — or else what was even the point? the same rule applies if you try tattling on him to one of the teachers or the housewardens or anybody else. and ace is a better liar than most people will ever be in their lifetime, so it's a losing battle even if you do manage to get someone to take your side.

so if you want to cross the bridge, my sweet, you've got to pay the toll.

(it's not even about the money anymore, really. riddle's thirst for control and azul's desire for recognition have clashed inside of ace in the most violent way, and now, it's all about the power it gives him over other people. and after how powerless he's felt this entire school year, being thrown left and right by overblot after overblot with no say at all, this is a power trip he never wants to come back down from.)

but ace realizes he's making quite a few enemies with his little money-making strategy, and he needs someone to help him just in case someone does come up with a plan to wipe him out. i mean, just look at azul — even with all of the loopholes and leverages in the world, even he was taken down eventually without outside help. if he wants this to last as long as possible, he needs... incentive for people to listen to him.

his own jade and floyd.

his own red-and-black collar.

using his riddle rosehearts-born dominance, and taking advantage of deuce's trey-and-cater-born passiveness, ace convinces deuce spade — one of the strongest people he knows — to help him in his economic ventures.

and deuce, seeing this as a way for ace to vent some frustration and unwilling to be on the other end of ace's ire, hesitantly agrees.

he doesn't piece together that ace is acting suspiciously like azul, but he still recognizes his own role in this whole scheme. ace is running a business, right? and deuce has only ever worked in one business before. he remembers what jade and floyd were like back when he worked under them, and so he uses that experience to inform his new position.

deuce becomes known as ace's right-hand man. he'll hunt you down if you don't pay, and he's not afraid to use force to "compel" you to. there have been stories about cat beastmen getting thrown up into trees and being left there for hours. about students getting forks "accidentally" thrown at them in the cafeteria with such precision, it doesn't really feel like an accident. about a student with a spade on his face who can throw back any attack sent his way with just as much force.

and there's nothing you can do about it, because he's in service to someone who has made himself pretty powerful. ace's silver-tongue gets deuce out of any and all trouble he inevitably finds himself in — and is ace is so brutally honest, why wouldn't people believe him? so even if you try to do something to deuce, ace has his back no matter what — and he'll win almost every time.

you mess with deuce, you mess with ace, which is already bad enough. but if you fuck around with ace, you better be prepared to find out with deuce.

they're a pair — that's always been true. but never before has that fact been so threatening.

jack howl comes next. we all know how much jack despises octavinelle's business model. but, begrudgingly, he will admit there are a lot of things he can learn from octavinelle. and more knowledge is never bad. as long as he doesn't actually use it, it should be fine.

(jack is more dangerous than ace and deuce, in a way — his toxicity is insidious in a way it just couldn't ever be with them.)

with excellent hearing, eyesight, and memory, he silently keeps note of every bribe he hears being taken. every lie he knows is being told. every mistake that gets swept under the rug. it's not long before he starts actively looking for it. it's not long before jack's uncovered dirt on almost every freshmen in school. it reminds him a bit of his time working at the mostro lounge. but instead of memorizing orders from customers, he's memorizing all their dirty secrets.

it's to protect himself, jack reasons. after all, it was only his input that put a stop to leona and ruggie's plans back during the spelldrive exhibition. he's just... preparing for another disastrous event, that's all. it's just precaution. insurance.

if it's not, then he'll have to accept that leona's overblot bothered him more than he thought. that he was weak enough to let it.

(and jack can't face that yet.)

and if, once in a while, ace comes to him looking for a little bit of information, then well, that's just lending a friend some advice. nothing wrong with that.

epel, ortho, and sebek don't have any direct ties to jamil, but they are certainly... impressionable, aren't they?

sebek zigvolt is a bit dense, certainly, but even he can see how well jamil takes care of his master. and with a master that's as ditzy and forgetful and all-over-the-place as kalim, that can't be easy. even if they are merely humans, and their experiences can't even begin to compare when it comes to serving a fae prince, sebek reckons that he can learn a thing or two by observing them. so that's exactly what he does.

one day, when kalim spills food on the floor in a hilariously ridiculous move, sebek notices something few others ever would. jamil gives the tiniest twitch of annoyance — the same way silver, in all his stoicism, often does when sebek gets too loud — but then he's back to being perfectly dutiful and polite and says "i'll go get a napkin."

it's... admirable, honestly. sebek doesn't put it into practice right away, but it stays in his mind long after he first sees it.

and then, after malleus's overblot, sebek's emotions feel like they're on fire. after being stuck in a world where it took just the tiniest crack to shatter a perfect illusion, he's wary of nearly everything that disrupts his day. now every single slight against him, no matter how unintentional it may be, feels like a personal attack on his very life. but sebek can't show these ugly emotions so outwardly — that would be dishonorable behavior that could damage malleus's reputation. instead, he resorts to subtle methods that can't be easily traced back to him like putting in frogs in schoolbags and setting brooms on fire or replacing shampoo bottles with tar.

but his repressed feelings of anger start to build to the point where he's now feeling unprecedented resentment towards... well, almost everybody.

when sebek has very first negative thought about malleus in history class — "reckless bastard" — he instantly hates himself for it and throws up then and there because how dare he.

he tries to shut them out, but the more he does, the more these intrusive thoughts start to bombard him with their uncharacteristic cynicism.

he looks at lilia from across the breakfast table, and his first thought is: heartless liar.

he spots leona lying in the botanical garden and he thinks: brainless cretin.

he even sees jamil, walking through the halls, and his mind screams: manipulative bitch.

but sebek shoves it all down because he's in no position to say that. it gets to the point where he's walking around as a silent, unfeeling husk, because to be anything else would be like inviting his inner demons to visit him on the outside. he pushes his emotions down as far as they'll go, and that's just going to have to be enough to get him through the day.

ortho shroud begins to follow a similar principle. his idia-inspired pessimism has led ortho to see others as less like people and more like characters. it's easier to think of every school day as a dungeon in an rpg. it's easier to convince himself that the other students are taunting him because they're programmed to be that way than face the reality that they just don't like him.

but the problem with seeing life as a video game is that you start seeing others as just ways to complete your objectives. like npcs or maps.

and when it comes to using people, jamil viper is king. or, for ortho's purposes, the ultimate survival guide.

ortho shapes himself into a model night raven college student — kind, charming, and sweet for the teachers, but just mischievous and rude enough to still fit in with the students.

he goes to housewarden meetings with idia to "gain leadership experience", taking notes and hearing out of every single little idea he can get his hands on (these are the people who have not just survived, but thrived. they must be doing something right). one time, riddle even pats his head and praises him for his proactiveness.

his classmates adore him for always been willing to help and being so calm about even the worst outcomes.

ortho makes himself as available as possible to the rest of ignihyde, brushing off homework or studying to help them with whatever they need — fixing game consoles, wiring in controllers, checking the internet connection, et cetera.

eventually, everyone believes in him almost as fiercely as scarabia believed in jamil, once upon a time.

ortho doesn't like telling all of these lies, but it's necessary to protect himself. it's like grinding to earn coins until you have enough money to buy that special armor in the shopkeeper's store.

...or maybe it's more like those cheesy dress-up flash games ortho used to play all the time — fleshing out the perfect outfit and hairstyle and makeup that'll earn you the most points.

if people feel like they need him, he'll be able to breeze through school without any more problems. he's put the whole system on easy mode! it feels a bit like cheating, almost.

it is like a game, isn't it? it's fun.

(at some point, ortho forgets how to stop.)

as for epel... well, he knows that his sudden snappish behavior towards the other pomefiore students won't go unnoticed for too long. but this is one of his only ways of venting, so he needs it to go under the radar long enough for him to... to squeeze out all of this sudden venom that's built up in him.

epel's not oblivious. he knows how sebek and ortho have changed over the weeks, and he knows why. but epel can't pull off "repressed" like sebek, and neither can he suddenly turn into the best person ever like ortho. but they do have the right idea about taking inspiration from jamil, so epel can fall back on what there is left: gaslighting.

every time kalim blacked out, jamil blamed it on him being sick. every time someone thought kalim was being awfully uncharacteristic, jamil called it a "mood swing". every time someone asked jamil about why kalim was acting so weird, jamil claimed ignorance.

at least, that's what yuu tells epel.

and it's perfect.

so now, every time someone confronts epel about his overly critical behavior, he lies and says he's doing it for their own good. you need pressure to make a diamond, after all. and besides — vil won't settle for anything less than absolutely perfect.

("i'm just trying to catch your mistakes before he does. and i think you and i can both agree that i'm a lot nicer than he is about it.")

every time vil confronts epel about all of the complaints he's been hearing from the other students about how epel's been tearing down their ideas for outfits and hairstyles with no mercy, and disregarding all of their achievements as "not good enough" to be proud over, epel dons a confused face.

("vil, between studying for tests and the crazy physical regiment you have me do, i barely have time for myself. you honestly think i have the energy to criticize other people?")

epel even starts turning people against each other so they won't focus on him. epel subtly threatens to take away the upperclassmen's position in the hierarchy, which sets up the other underclassmen as a threat, and epel grouses to the underclassmen that the upperclassmen look down on them for not living up to pomefiore standards, under the guise of regular teenage bitching.

but all of this, combined with their self-entitlement, leads to a mini-war in pomefiore. but since this is, well, pomefiore, where being perfect and poised is the standard, the others make sure never make it obvious in front of vil or rook.

epel plays everybody like a fiddle, and ensures that none of it can be traced back to him. it's a good way to get out his frustration. and hey — it seems like everybody's upped their game along the way. vil seems pretty happy that everybody's improving in their efforts so greatly, practically overnight!

epel wakes up with a feeling of accomplishment everyday. for once, it seems he did something right.

now if only rook could stop looking so somber...

then we come to yuu, whose inner darkness has been left to fester all year. if people think they can treat them like a ragdoll, it's only fair they do the same.

there's a lot yuu doesn't have, but one thing they're really lacking is a bit of respect. that's what it means to be magicless in an arcane academy. you're at the bottom of the food chain.

and look at what a bit of self-interest can do for you! yuu studies in the library until late into the night, burning the metaphorical candle at both ends, learning everything they can about magic until they're more well-versed in it than most students in the school. yuu starts making potions that aren't nearly as good as azul's, but they're cheap and work well enough. they start making study guides for others with their new-found knowledge, even if they do bristle with the fact that a damned study guide is what caught them in azul's tentacles in the first place. they start learning anything and everything, clinging to whatever scraps of knowledge they can write down.

with this, they successfully make their case for why they should join ace and deuce's business. eventually, they're just as feared as they are among the other first-years.

but that's not enough for yuu. the power of fear is nice, but the power of controlling other people would be much more cathartic.

so that's what they do. while ace is more focused on monetary gain, yuu uses their mountains of blackmail to convince others to do whatever they want.

if crowley throws another ridiculous task at them, yuu simply hoists it off to somebody else to do. if ramshackle dorm needs a few repairs, it's only a matter of contacting a few people before a whole construction crew paid off by somebody else comes knocking at their door. and they'll do it, if they don't want to get kicked out of the school or have their reputation ruined.

but somehow, even with all of this, yuu sets themself up as the nicest out of their little trio. they're willing to let payments slide from time to time. they listen to their clients' problems. they take constructive criticism and always seem to improve in their potions and study guides based on feedback. and if you do do yuu a favor, they'll give you certain favors right back.

so even when yuu is a covetous, greedy, all-consuming shark, the students still think they're so very, very nice. because compared to ace and deuce, what else is there to think?

but this can only go on for so long. and yuu knows that.

one day, they get called to the headmage's office. yuu is already going through their contact list — a list that's quadrupled ever since they joined forces with ace and deuce — to see who'd be willing to do them a teensy little favor for them, but when they step through the door, they pause.

inside the office are all the housewardens, their vices, the teachers, and everybody else yuu has grown to know over the past year.

yuu narrows their eyes as riddle steps forward.

"yuu," riddle starts sternly, "from one housewarden to another, i believe we need to talk."

^

(i will address everyone's reactions in a reblog, because this is honestly getting really, really long, lol. but don't worry, the reactions are coming! 🥺)

(but i should mention that there is already a good reblog of the original post by @thenumberhuntress which addresses the upperclassmen's reactions that you can find here. go read it. it's peak.)

(once again, thank you for the great ask! this was fun to make!)

[thereoncewasagirlnamedjane]

deck the halls.

‣ pairing — ransom drysdale x f!reader

‣ contents — oneshot, coarse language, fluff, xmas/holidays, mutual disdain but it’s actually just mutual not-so-secret shameful pining

‣ synopsis — for the first time, you think that working for linda drysdale the night before christmas might not be such a bad thing after all.

‣ word count — 3.4k

‣ notes — tbh i’m not very happy with how this turned out but whatever, i’ve been stressing about this for way too long because it’s my first ransom fic, and i’m just done lol. shout out to @intrepidacious though for chatting with me about this fic all winter while i struggled, doing her best to motivate me and letting me vent my writing frustrations through the entire process. ilysm nika 💕

✩ read on ao3 ✩ janie’s masterlist ✩ library blog

Christmastime is here Happiness and cheer Fun for all that children call Their favourite time of yea—

You angrily jam the pad of your finger against the speaker’s power button, cutting off the quaint holiday music and plummeting Linda Drysdale’s normally busy real estate office into silence.

For someone who consistently prides themselves on being so sensible and logical, you sure can be stupid sometimes.

Because you drag a free office chair towards you, anchoring it against the wall as best as you can before climbing on top of it. You teeter precariously, cursing under your breath as you strain to loop a gaudy red and green garland over the push pins above the office doorway.

Linda, however, is even stupider, asking you to put up these god awful decorations before going home, not even providing you with so much as a step stool to do so—even though you obviously aren’t tall enough to reach on your own, even though she said you didn’t have to work overtime today (why, thank you Linda, considering it’s Christmas Eve and all), even though it was already 4:45 when she asked.

One phone call would be all it took to have OSHA crawling up her ass, but because you were only ever a badass in your own head, long after the conversation was over and there was no longer anything you could do about it, you just nodded meekly at your boss instead of telling her exactly where you thought she could shove her precious decorations.

Besides, she’d probably walk away with nothing more than a slap on her wrist anyway—if that.

“A bit to the left, Cindy Lou Who,” comes a voice, the low dulcet baritones that are the bane of your existence, like a persistent under-the-skin itch you can’t ever seem to scratch. You take a deep stabilizing breath upon hearing the nickname, a heat flaring in your cheeks that has nothing to do with the whiskey-spiked hot chocolates you’ve been secretly sipping all day.

You shoot him a withered glare over your shoulder. Ransom, the devil-spawn of your she-devil boss, is lounging lazily in your chair, leaning back with his arms casually linked over his abdomen as he observes your efforts to stay balanced and graceful.

Trust the smug little brat to show up tonight of all nights, when your patience is already wearing thin. No doubt he’s just here to piss you off before swanning over to the posh holiday party happening at his mother’s place tonight—one you’ve never been invited to despite all your years working for Linda, by the way—while you trudge home to a dark and empty studio apartment, with not even so much as a goldfish to welcome you back.

Ransom just smirks back at you through a mouthful of white chocolate chips and macadamia nuts, his hand already rummaging for another cookie from the package he’s stolen right out of the bottom drawer of your desk.

You release a huff of frustration.

There he sits, without a care in the world in his perfectly tailored wool coat and immaculately styled hair that somehow remains untouched by the howling winter wind outside, looking like he’s just stepped out of an issue of GQ.

He doesn’t deserve it, you lament, his coat already starting to pill at the undersides of the sleeves and his sweater probably just a tug at one loose strand away from unravelling completely.

Whoops. You almost fall off the chair for the fifth time since you started this ridiculous endeavour, trying to shake off the mental image of a very shirtless Ransom, tangled in a web of soft white yarn.

What? You can hate someone down to their grimy little bones and still think they’re hot.

Besides, the devil wouldn’t be the devil if he weren’t tempting, would he?

“A real piece of work… the both of you…” you mutter to yourself now, your colourful vocabulary back in full working order now that Linda is holed away in her office and well out of earshot. “She could cut me some slack, you know… Christmas, for crying out loud… and I haven’t eaten all day!”

The asshole nepo-baby just peers up at you past the phone he’s been holding up in front of his face, blinking lazily and not offering any kind of response or assistance—not that you’d expected him to.

“Right, I forgot who I was talking to,” you speak slowly and deliberately, like you’re explaining something rather complicated to a small child. “You see, us humans need to eat food regularly for sustenance.”

“Wow,” Ransom deadpans, his voice muffled through cookie crumbs.

“Yeah, it is terribly inconvenient,” you shrug exaggeratedly, “but not all of us can subsist on the shards of broken souls and children’s nightmares, can we?”

“Calling me the devil again?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re so original; how about you get a new thing?”

“Don’t you have some place to be?” You sneer, your grip tightening on the garland, the plastic biting into your palms as you twist a string of fairy lights around the rest of it. “Why the fuck are you even here?”

It’s a perfectly valid question. Linda is always threatening to cut her son off, but that hasn’t prevented him from skipping out on work as much as possible and galavanting around the city, maxing out her credit cards every chance he gets.

But you know she’ll never actually follow through; He shows himself here just often enough to keep her from seriously considering it, doing his small part to show off a carefully crafted picture for the masses—showing the scions of Boston’s wealthiest family in a united front.

And if there’s one thing Ransom likes more than he hates his family or earning an honest wage, it’s the weight of green lining the deep but frayed pockets of his expensive designer pants.

That shiny Drysdale veneer is all that matters, after all, and you know very well that Ransom’s only real job is to keep it nice and polished. But you’ve been working long enough at this soul-sucking place to notice the telltale signs, to see the cracks beneath the varnish.

The way you swear you see a flicker of something that looks a lot like dread whenever Linda calls his name.

The way his signature smirk twitches with just a hint of irritation whenever some angry coworker, once again passed over for a long overdue promotion in favour of giving Ransom a hefty allowance bonus, calls him a talentless, hopeless, literal son of a bitch.

The way he cracks those self-deprecating jokes about how the only real ambition he has in life is finding new ways to disappoint his relatives, and squander as much of the family fortune as he possibly can.

It’s no surprise, really, that Ransom’s turned out the way he has. You’ve heard the way they all talk about him sometimes, his family seemingly oblivious to your working-class existence.

Never mind the fact that whenever you happen to glance over at him, Ransom’s eyes are almost always on you—watching and assessing with that same inscrutable expression on his face.

Not that you pay close attention or anything.

Not that you care, either.

And never will you admit that it unnerves the hell out of you, almost like he’s trying to see through you—right down to the restless person who hides beneath a false bravado, a sarcastic sense of humour, and mountains of paperwork piled up high on your desk.

The feeling of being seen, so terrible and stirring at the same time.

And yet, you shiver, there’s something about it that rivets you. Something electric, like a live wire running just beneath your skin. It’s the feeling you get when he looks at you with those icy blue eyes, his expression going from scathing to almost inquisitive within seconds, when the two of you are trading jabs and insults like his mother isn’t the one who signs your paycheques.

If you are carbon, then he’s the igniting flame.

But you know better, don’t you? Ransom is trouble, plain and simple—the kind with zero direction in life, the kind with a new girl on his arm every week, leaving them to wake up in the mornings to cold bed sheets and memories of promises he’d never intended to keep.

You will die a fiery death before you come another notch on his bedpost. Not that you even care whether he thinks of you that way at all, because even the idea of doing that with Ransom is—

Shit. You shiver again.

You’re playing with fire by even thinking about him at all, even though you feel the incredibly annoying pull of his presence like a magnet, even though you know you need to stay as far away from him as possible, and even though you are very keenly aware that there’s something here.

It looms large yet goes unacknowledged whenever your eyes lock, when he’s looking at you like he wants to bury you and devour you at the same time, when you’re itching with the knowledge that you’re only keeping him at as much of a distance as you can physically stand.

Why else haven’t you told him yet, in no uncertain terms, to fuck right off?

Because there’s a part of you that can’t help but wonder what it would be like to let yourself burn—to feel the heat of that passion you can see in his eyes that he never seems to give into, to feel whatever warmth he might muster from beneath the complicated layers of that thing beating in his chest, to feel him next to you as that terrible something you won’t ever name finally erupts and consumes everything in its path.

Ugh. You absolutely loathe yourself for it, and it makes you want to bash your forehead repeatedly against the wall.

“Someone’s going on the naughty list,” Ransom snickers, the sound infuriatingly close now. You do your best not to startle at the new proximity; he’s put his phone away, unfolded himself from your chair with that unexpectedly languid grace, crossing the room to toss your now empty package of cookies into the trash. “And is that any way to speak to a valued coworker?”

“You? Valued? Coworker?”

“Oh, don’t be jealous, Cindy Lou,” he chides, leaning against the edge of an empty desk barely a step away, crossing his arms over his broad chest, then lowering his voice to whisper conspiratorially, “I hear it’s a sin.”

“Jealous?” You laugh humourlessly, snorting in a way that is decidedly very unladylike. “Of what? The fact that you’ve never worked a day in your life and have the soft white hands of a geisha?”

“Oh yeah? Been thinking about my hands a lot, have you?” He smirks again, and you bite back an exasperated moan—er, groan.

“Namely,” you say sarcastically, turning away from him and reaching up for a particularly high spot. “Breaking all the feeble little bones in your tiny rat-like claws, preferably with a nice sturdy lump of coal.”

“I’m not the one who’s gone on a rampage,” Ransom gestures to the office, now adorned with shiny little baubles, bundles of sparkly tinsel, and rolls of satin ribbon, “and vandalized the office.”

“Vandal—it looks festive, you heartless ghoul!” You whip around to glare at him again, momentarily forgetting your unstable position. But instead of rolling away from the wall and taking you with it, the chair beneath you stays firmly in place. Confused, you glance down to see Ransom’s outstretched feet casually braced against the legs.

Your head snaps up so quickly you think you might get whiplash, eyes narrowing accusatorially only to see him looking away, feigning nonchalance despite the fact that his ears are turning red.

Blood rushes to your cheeks, a traitorous warmth spreading through them. You curse mentally for the umpteenth time, feeling the corners of your perfidious mouth threatening to curve up into a smile.

The bar really is in hell, isn’t it?

“You…” you squeak, clearing your throat a few times to get your voice back to normal. “It’s five. You should go get your mother now.”

“Why, am I distracting you?” Ransom replies, tucking his hands into his pockets and still not making eye contact. “And don’t rush me. I’d rather eat glass than sit through another one of Linda’s fuckin’ Christmas parties.”

“Right, because of your repellant personality?” You quip only half-sarcastically.

“So I’m told,” he drawls, but strangely he sounds more pleased than offended by your observation. “But then again, you’re no picnic either, are you Cindy?”

“Excuse me?” You finally climb off the chair, the last of the garland securely in place. You ignore those stupid feelings stirring inside you at the sight of him retracting his legs a second too slow, and only when both your feet are firmly on the floor.

“You can’t tell me you work so hard because you like your job,” he chortles, his smirk twisting into something just a tiny bit meaner this time. “Aw, sweetheart, do you not have any friends?”

You snort so loud it almost hurts, trying not to focus on just how much you and Ransom have in common—a fact he also seems content to leave unaddressed. “Oh, like you do?”

The mental image of Ransom sitting in his mother’s living room, laughing and sharing wine with a bunch of people in front of a roaring fire like he isn’t a raging sociopath makes you shudder.

“Although, I guess I am curious,” you relent with an inquisitive tilt of your head, ignoring the weight of his heavy gaze on your back as you rummage through the last of the decorations.

“Hm, do tell,” you hear him chuckle.

“About Christmas, you bumbling idiot,” you retort, rolling your eyes. “Can’t picture you and Linda decorating a tree or opening presents together.”

“Okay, that’s not even funny,” he grumbles, his expression twisting into something sour.

“Never? Not even when you were a kid?” You ask before you can stop yourself. Dangerous territory. You know too much about his personal life as it is, and this would only humanize him and that’s the very last thing you want.

“Sometimes,” he admits after a few seconds of agonizing silence, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, your eyes meeting, as always, when you look up at him. “Only ever at Harlan’s.”

You stare, unsure what to do with the underlying hint of something in his voice that doesn’t really belong. Harlan is the only person in his family you actually like, who exudes warmth and care even towards a spoiled and ungrateful grandson, and it takes you a moment to realize that the thing in Ransom’s voice might be affection.

It’s alien and unnerving, to say the least, but you still feel a traitorous tug at your heart strings.

“I can’t picture you as a kid,” you say, somehow managing to keep your voice from trembling as you quickly change the subject. Sweet Christmases with his adoring grandpa shouldn’t be something you associate with this overgrown man-child. And even if it is, it doesn’t change the fact that Ransom is a giant, gaping asshole. “I just see you, but… smaller.”

“And I bet you were just a naive little princess,” he smirks when you glare at him, “doting parents, thoughtful presents, cookies for Santa—spoiled in your own way.”

“Oh, don’t get it twisted,” you shake your head, putting up a defensive hand, “we aren’t sharing. That’s not what this is.”

“But you know what they say, Cindy,” he says as he leans in closer, stopping just inches away, so close you can smell the lingering scent of cinnamon and nutmeg on his breath, mingling with the saccharine aroma of peppermint and artificial pine clinging to his sweater. “Sharing is caring.”

His eyes blaze in an unspoken challenge, but before you can do anything else, like maybe start thinking that the bad idea that’s been plaguing you ever since you met this infernal man isn’t such a bad idea after all, the sound of Linda’s voice cuts through the air, as sharp as the diamonds she wears on her fingers.

“What are you two doing?”

The spell is broken, and Ransom looks away with that same infuriating smile that makes you both want to punch and ki—

“Hello, Mother,” Ransom all but sneers.

You step away with considerable effort, wringing your hands in front of you. Linda narrows her eyes in thinly-veiled suspicion, but doesn’t say anything as she begins walking towards you.

Ransom steps in front of you, shoving his hands into his pockets and jingling his keys, “We’d better get going. Your chariot awaits.”

“Have a nice evening, Mrs. Drysdale,” you pipe up, watching nervously as her eyes sweep across the office and your carefully placed decorations with cool indifference. She nods slightly and you breathe a sigh of relief; that’s as close to a thank you as you’ll ever get.

“Ransom, be a dear and go start the car,” Linda says, urging him towards the door with a sweep of her hand. Her son hesitates for only a millisecond, not even looking back as he turns on his heels and leaves.

Only you notice that his hands are clenched at his sides.

“Merry Christmas, dear,” she smiles tightly as she hands you an envelope likely containing your holiday bonus, and you snap back to attention. You take it from her with a quiet thank you, but then her smile quickly turns into a stern frown. “But don’t make a habit of having food delivered here.”

“Food?” You repeat, your brows coming together in confusion. Linda puts on her fur coat, pointing a single gloved finger at the doors. There is a delivery person standing on the other side of the glass, lifting and pointing at a plastic bag heavy with takeout containers.

“Air the place out before you leave,” Linda says as she breezes past him, not even turning back while she lifts a hand in dismissal.

Confused, you follow in her tracks, staring after her as she makes a dissatisfied face at Ransom’s car pulled right up next to the curb. You see him roll his eyes, leaning over to unlock and push the door open for her. Linda doesn’t look too thrilled, but steps in anyway. They drive away, a hint of a smile on Ransom’s face even though it looks like Linda’s already started in on him with her usual longwinded lectures.

You tell the delivery boy you didn’t order anything, but he looks just as puzzled. He checks the receipt and says your name, the office address, which you confirm are correct. He then recites the order: scallion pancakes, rice noodle rolls, steamed crystal dumplings, and a small black sesame latte—your standing order from your favourite restaurant in Chinatown, reserved for nights when you were working late.

“It’s already paid for,” he says, “you might as well take it.”

You do, locking the doors once he leaves and set the bag down onto a nearby desk. Before you’ve even untied it and opened the containers to check their contents, the grin that’s been brewing all night finally breaks free.

Because there’s only a handful of people in the world who know you’re here at the moment, but only one who knows you haven’t eaten yet today, and who knows that despite having permission to leave for the night, you’ll probably settle in for another few hours of tedious paperwork.

Still, you finish every last crumb of your dinner feeling lighter than you have all week.

Maybe you’ll ask him next time, despite all the reasons you probably shouldn’t, whatever happened to sharing is caring?—even if it sounds like an invitation.

And maybe you feel cheeky enough to send him a quick email before logging off, cackling to yourself when he finally fires back a scathing reply a few hours later, likely still sitting in a room full of people just like his mother, trying not to be absolutely miserable.

From: “El Diablo” <rdrysdale@drysdaleproperties.com> To: Reception <reception@drysdaleproperties.com> Subject: RE: Merry Christmas Oh fuck off, I don’t know what you’re talking about. ——————— From: Reception <reception@drysdaleproperties.com> To: “El Diablo” <rdrysdale@drysdaleproperties.com> Subject: Merry Christmas …and thanks for dinner, Drysdale.

And if, when you’re finally home long after the midnight hour, you’re tucked into bed feeling full and warm with the temptation to raise your lips into a smile as you drift off to sleep?

Well.

That’s really nobody’s business but your own, is it? 

fin.

[seventeenlovesthree]

What it means to be "chosen" - burden, fate, acceptance

This is not going to be a full analysis on the whereabouts of why and how "The Chosen One" trope is being executed in the Digimon Adventure series, because frankly... The lines have pretty much been blurred throughout the different iterations. Even the question of why some children in particular were chosen has been answered differently depending on which source material and which person you'll ask - and thus, there are different interpretations out there. Whether it's because of their potential (in regards to certain attributes, the subject of friendship or in general) shall not be discussed in full, but let's say... The very first Chosen Ones were chosen out of necessity, even if chance may have been involved.

If you ask me personally, the main premise one can and should take away from all of it actually boils down to a cheesy quote from the dub version of the first Pokémon movie: "I see now that the circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant; it is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are."

Replace "birth" and "life" with "Chosen Child status" and it fits again - regardless of what characters you apply it to. The only difference here is - that they may not refer to it as a "gift". Because this is something they all handle differently, depending on what version you look at, once more. So I wanted to make a little, very inoffical ranking on how the status is being perceived by all of them. Keep in mind that, by the end of 02, you could say that ALL of them have accepted it as a part of their lives, some more willingly than others, but the general tone is the same:

"Being chosen is nothing special and yet we all understand that there is a necessity, that we have a duty to fulfill."

After characters like Sora or Yamato had already questioned being chosen in Adventure, Ken was the first character that challenged the idea of it being a "burden created by chance".

"It could have been anyone but me, so why was I chosen, why did I have to suffer and get punished?"

This theme is being explored in similar yet different ways through the protagonists of the later movies - Meiko (and Maki), Menoa and Rui all represent tragic figures in a somewhat twisted "game of chance", used by higher forces. We know that the number of Chosen Children doubled each year - whether due to Homeostasis meddling mingled with Rui's wish shall not be subject of this post, but overall, we can say: They all received the "gift" of partnerships. However, neither of them were meant to last, due to different circumstances. Which includes Ken as well - because once corrupted or unable to fulfill a certain "duty" any longer, all these partnerships were (sometimes temporarily, sometimes permanently) ripped apart.

Long story short, for the sake of the following ranking, I will include Tri onwards for completion sake - however, it's just a temporary state, because "Adventure Beyond" may fix some of these views.

Rejects it as a burden (temporarily): Sora

This one is, sadly, quite self-explanatory due to the current state of Sora being "out of the loop". She had been among those who initially (Adventure) fell into despair due to the burden of having to save the world - and while she temporarily accepted it (02), it all played into her trauma of not knowing who she was and how to define herself outside of "labels that were externally assigned to her". So yes, despite her clearly loving her partner... We shall wait and see how she will deal with this in the future.

Ambilvalent, had to get through several stages of contemplation, but overall knows it's part of who they are (still ongoing): Yamato & Taichi, Miyako & Iori

These two "groups" are here for different reasons. The entirety of the Adventure-verse spends a lot of time telling us how torn Taichi and Yamato are basically all the time - they're more than willing to save the world whenever it's required, but struggle with the "Chosen Child identity" and what it means for them as "normal people". Because as strongest fighters, they know they shoulder a lot of responsibility, for themselves, their friends and families, but also for the worlds out there. Fighting yet causing sacrifices when they themselves still have to deal with heavy childhood trauma not only causes them to clash, but also to (subconsciously) reject their duties, hence causing their partnerships to (temporarily) vanish. Which is very similar to the tragic figures talked above - which is also why they all suffer from depression, fear of abandonment and identity crises. They're perfectly aware of the duty and see it as a necessity they HAVE TOO choose for themselves in order to succeed. But the latter is a lesson they had to learn the hard way first - while also remembering how important their partners (and this kind of life) really are to them, because it's literally all there inside themselves. They just have to discover it again.

Miyako and Iori are a bit harder to decipher - they used to struggle strongly with the idea of having to make sacrifices due to their Chosen Child status and I would argue that this is still something that, if they think about it for too long, keeps them up at night. But I would still put them on the outer part of this scale - for the simple fact that they were able to integrate their partnerships into their daily lives. There may absolutely be times when they see it as a chore and annoying - but begrudgingly accept it due to the bond they share with their partners and friends.

Accepts it after coming to terms with it, transforms it positively: Hikari & Takeru, Jyou, Mimi & Ken

The viewer doesn't spend as much time with these two when it comes to how they define themselves. Hikari and Takeru, similarly to their brothers, can be assumed to be aware of their special status among the group. They're the enabling angels - and know that's why they could never quit. On the other hand, despite suffering from childhood and family-related trauma that causes them to fear darkness and separation, they seem to learn not to see it as a "burden" in itself. Unlike their siblings, they have an easier time integrating their partners into their daily lives - maybe because they hadn't been separated for as long, maybe it's because they perceive it differently due to their ages and being surrounded by people who also make it look easy. They are aware of the responsibility - and despite their strong opinions on injustice, they're still able to see the gift in it all.

Jyou, Mimi and Ken are purposefully separated from everyone, due to the fact that they were all at a point in their lives at least ONCE where they were about to quit it all for good - but eventually learned that it was something about themselves they couldn't change. Something they had to live with, if they wanted or not, even if they were ALL heavily affected by watching beloved people/mons die. Mimi loathed the idea of fighting and causing unnecessary death, Jyou repeatedly asked himself why he couldn't just live a normal life aside from outside expectations - but unlike Sora or Taichi, they actively embraced the idea that there were things only they were capable of that nobody else could. This seems to be in contrast to the idea that "being chosen is nothing special" - but these two were capable of making it work in a more casual, less spectacular way and, just like the likes of Miyako, Iori, Takeru and Hikari, were able to keep their partners as active parts of their private and/or career lives all around.

And so was Ken! Ken's journey is that of repentance, wanting to make up for what he did in the past, even if it meant sacrificing himself for that. He could easily have collapsed under that burden - if he hadn't had the right people to surround himself with, showing him that he was valuable despite his wrongdoings. And it feels like - Ken learned that lesson so thoroughly that, even though one can be sure that he still suffers from nightmares as an adult, he's also capable of helping others (just like Rui) to understand that message.

These three chose to embrace it eventually, even if there were temporary doubts.

Embraces it as part of their lives without question: Daisuke & Koushirou

I'm not saying that Daisuke WASN'T having temporary doubts of whether or not he was worthy enough to carry a digivice or even the goggles at first - but he also turned out to be the one who just "winged it" all eventually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. For him, having a partner, being chosen, meant just that - it didn't make him any more or less special than any other person on the planet with aspirations, goals or all the various life paths. Sure, he may have been flabbergasted and in awe at first, but in the end, meeting V-mon was nothing more than getting another brother AND having the ability to be badass and doing the best he could while saving the world. Despite his mask of self-importance, who knows him also knows that he's down to earth like that and just accepts it all how it is as a side gig to getting his Ramen business going.

Koushirou may be a little bit less casual about it, but for him, being chosen isn't a burden or fate or any magically connected miracle - it is a part of his identity. Yes, he may have been just as irritated by File Island and being surrounded by weird monsters as everyone else was - but he was basically the first one who just questioned it all because he simply wanted to figure it out, NOT because it was a chore. Yes, he may look exasperated at times after having helped to support saving the world(s) countless times, but for him, that is his life. He has committed himself to researching the whereabouts of the Digital World, his tech company is primarily aimed at creating gadgets to support his friends and that serve the initial cause - and his partner is basically with him 24/7 anyway.

[dude1818]

Wasu Majo addresses this a little bit. The time looping character also has a form of photographic memory that makes acquiring book knowledge trivial, but the accompanying ennui of having every day be a groundhog day means she never tries the "perfect something through repetition" trope. The closest she comes is getting back at a bully by spying on what she painted in art class in one loop, and then reproducing it and accusing the bully of copying her in the next loop. Hundreds of hours and a photographic memory should be more than enough to at least make a passable copy of a high schooler's art project

Actually relating to what OP said though, the idea of RNG is still pretty important. The MC makes a big deal that the loops differ from each other a lot because of it, mostly in how a lot of people's behaviors are spur of the moment rather than planned from the day before. That makes each loop unpredictable and hard to navigate, because it's more like navigating a bunch of parallel timelines and she doesn't know how the wavefunction will collapse each time

I keep wanting a time loop story that takes serious the idea that random chance exists and you can't become literally perfect at a thing merely through repetition.

Pete Weber is one of the greatest bowlers of all time. He rolled 85 300 games in PBA competition, over maybe 5400 PBA games. The math is a little unclear here, but it's good enough for me: about 1/60. That's a man who spent thousands of hours practicing, who had the mechanics and metal game down, etc.

So if you're in a time loop, and you have decades to practice bowling, I think you could get really fucking good at bowling. What you couldn't do is consistently bowl a 300 game.

And I would love to see a time loop story where someone says "alright, I can do this trick about half the time, and this trick that follows it about a tenth of the time, and I really need to get more consistent at both of them, or find a better strategy, because this is only a one in twenty chance to even be able to attempt the third trick in that sequence".

This is not what people come to time loops for, but that's why I like it.