#thinking about his canon in-game romance sorry (no i’m not)

[greyswarden]

thinking about zev/ariel today. what if we both know what it’s like to live in a cage. what if we were mirrors. what if i was a mage and been told my whole life that i’m dangerous but you told me that being dangerous and even exciting is attractive. what if we both are trying to be independent and have agency. what if we found love and freedom in each other. what if we got married. just something to think about

[thisfeelslike-iykyk]

romance tropes ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

hp boys x reader (ft. harry potter, ron weasley, fred weasley, draco malfoy, cedric diggory, remus lupin, sirius black, james potter, tom riddle) backtrack: “daydreamin’”, ariana grande inspiration: tropes are just fun

harry potter

secret relationship

harry hugged a friend and ended up on the front page of the newspaper for it. now, granted, that was because that absolute piece of sh rita skeeter was stalking him. but it doesn’t change the fact that harry is like an actual celebrity. and it’s not like he’s an attention seeker or likes having eyes on him at all times, and he hates it when other people get dragged because of him. so he’d place a lot of importance on hiding your relationship to protect you.

first love

harry in the books just gives naive, first love energy. he’s not used to actually being liked by people, and the concept of dating was foreign to him until like third or fourth year anyway. he’d most likely be nervous and awkward around you at the start of the relationship, and you’d go through many little arguments and larger trials. but if you can work it out and stay with each other, you will find that your love is like the view at the top of a mountain--well worth the climb.

ron weasley

friends to lovers

maybe this is subtly influenced by his canon romance with hermione, but I feel like ron is so defined by his loyalty and his “being a good friend” that being friends with him is a crucial predecessor to becoming his partner for life. he notices good looks just as much as any teenage boy would, but for him to really develop a connection with his soulmate, he needs to get to know them too. ron’s best friend is his soulmate, and his soulmate is nothing short of his best friend.

fake relationship

ron pretends to get into a relationship because his mother is always on him about when he’s going to finally get a partner. pretty self-explanatory. he gets teased relentlessly about it by his siblings--even they don’t know it’s fake--and he’s constantly apologizing about you having to always go over to his house and talk to his family. but you love his family, so you don’t mind. and after a few months of awkward hand holding and family dinners, you start to love ron too.

fred weasley

best friend's brother / brother's best friend

honestly, these tropes are similar. you spend a lot of time around each other when you’re young. at first you just think he’s cute and funny, but as you start seeing each other more, you find yourself constantly thinking about him. and he’s thinking about you too, but he knows you’re supposed to be off limits. when you start hanging out together, alone, you’re initially both opposed to the idea of being in a relationship. but after gathering up the courage to ask your best friend / brother and receiving some grudging approval, you get together.

unrequited love

I debated between ron and fred for this trope (maybe it’s just the weasley family, I’m sorry but they’re so awkward and nervous around their crushes, absolutely no game). fred has had his eyes on you forever. when you were younger he’d constantly ask you out; and you’d reject him every time, thinking he was always joking or pranking you. but when you’re in your fifth year he tries again, one more time; and when you meet him in the courtyard like he requested he has a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. his face is bright red as he gives them to you, and you can’t resist teasing him a little before finally agreeing to date him.

draco malfoy

arranged marriage

this is the trope that started this post. draco’s parents find him a suitable partner to marry, and at first you start off kind of awkward and distant around each other. but then something in the wall cracks, and you start to open up more and more. soon polite touches and awkward glances become genuine laughter and instinctive hand-holding. and next thing you know, an unbreakable bond is formed.

forbidden love

draco’s got a reputation to uphold. the malfoy family has a reputation to uphold. and maybe this is wishful thinking and idealizing his character, but I like to think that he wouldn’t care about his soulmate’s blood status if you have a true connection. initially, you sneak glances at each other during classes. these glances turn into short notes handed subtly to each other while in the hallways or in the dining hall. these notes turn into brief meetings in the library or the courtyard where nobody can see you. there’s no need to showcase your relationship. and draco wouldn’t mind keeping your meetings secret for a little while longer. besides, there’s something about meeting secretly and knowing you’re not supposed to be together that gives him an adrenaline rush like nothing else. I don’t know. I mean, in canon he married astoria greengrass, who wasn’t a part of the “true” pure blood line, so I’m hoping he’d be willing to go a step further. I don’t know. maybe this trope would be a better fit for sirius.

cedric diggory

childhood marriage pact

this is so cute. imagine baby cedric and baby you rolling around in grassy hills, looking up at the stars sprinkled across the night sky. on one of these nights, cedric asks you if you think you’ll get married. you say you don’t know, and cedric offers to marry you. you hold an impromptu wedding, with cedric grabbing a dandelion and dramatically getting down on one knee in front of you. you dramatically gasp and say yes, and proclaim your love for him. little did the two of you know that many years later, you’d be reliving your childhood memories as you walk down the aisle. (because cedric definitely doesn’t die and you graduate hogwarts together and get married and live happily ever after.)

grumpy x sunshine

cedric is the sunshine. that's it. that's it.

remus lupin

love at first sight

remus had never been interested in dating until you. you were the first person who could capture his attention better than his books could. the marauders are walking through the courtyard one day while you’re sitting on a bench with your favorite book in hand. you look up as they pass and lock eyes with remus. immediately his face lights up a little as he gives you a shy smile, an instant connection and spark forming between you. (is this a trope I desperately wanted to give to cedric because cedric is my absolute favorite? yes. do I regret giving it to remus? no.)

secret admirer / love letters

remus was so shy as a kid, he could never gather up the courage to chase his crush like sirius or james would. so he could only admire you from afar, a dreamy smile on his face as he props his head up on his fist. he wants to find some way to confess to you, but he could never do it in person. suddenly he’s struck with a stroke of genius, and the next day when you come down to breakfast your owl delivers to you an unassuming letter with a dried, pressed flower on it. the letter is written in perfect cursive, the black ink standing out on the yellowed paper. it’s from a secret admirer, and reading the depth of his feelings makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. you want to know who it is so badly, but they leave no hints as the days pass. your owl brings you new letters every day and sometimes little presents. soon you start writing back, begging him to tell you who he is. after a few months of this back and forth, remus finally gathers up the courage to meet you in the owlery. when you realize it’s him, you’re giddy, immediately giving him a hug that makes his eyes widen and his face flush red. needless to say, you’re happy with who your secret admirer is.

sirius black

second chance romance

you and sirius had a thing when you were in school, but it never went anywhere. it could have, as after you graduated you were spending a lot of time together. but everything went wrong when sirius was framed for the potters’ murders. he was suddenly whisked away to azkaban, and you had never felt so confused. you know sirius couldn’t have done something so cruel, but you have no idea who could have actually done it, and you’re not allowed any contact with him now that he’s in prison. when he escaped, you had no idea that the first person he’d come looking for was you. it took time, patience, and respect to rebuild your relationship, but soon you grew close and rekindled that flame that maybe once was there. it wasn’t easy getting together, but throughout all the trials and tribulations, your love for each other remained constant.

bad boy x good girl

sirius is sirius, and you’re more like remus. he loves how studious you are; he hates studying, despite being extremely naturally skilled at magic. when he first approaches you, you turn him down; you know exactly the type of guy sirius is, and it’s two words: bad news. but he keeps persisting, and he knows exactly how to turn on the charm and get you out of your shell. the first time he sneaks you out to the shrieking shack, you’re terrified, but sirius warns you to keep it a secret. you always just thought he was a classic playboy, but sirius proves you wrong. he protects you and takes care of you before anyone else, even himself; he genuinely cares about you, and you are so, so glad you decided to give him a chance.

james potter

enemies to lovers

the classic. it’s not my favorite trope, but come on. it’s so james potter coded. this might also be unconsciously influenced by his canon romance with lily, but young james was such a shitty guy that it’d be hard to like him. you’re not even enemies, per se, but you don’t respect him. that is, until something happens that draws you two together; maybe you’re on the quidditch team together, maybe you’re on opposing quidditch teams and you catch the snitch before him, maybe you’re paired up together for a project. but you start to feel grudging respect toward each other, and before long it turns your rivalry into a friendly competition. and not long after that, your friendly competition turns into flirting and fleeting shared laughs and touches. and the whole world watches as you fall in love. (side note: girlfriend effect is real with james.)

forced proximity

all the “seven minutes in heaven with a harry potter boy” quizzes come to life with this one. you’re at a marauders party when someone suggests a game of seven minutes in heaven. you draw a snitch out of the bag, and next thing you know you and james are shoved in the closet together. it’s uncomfortably small, and you’re pretty much pressed up against each other. nobody knows exactly what went on between the two of you in that closet, but when you walk out together, james’s tie is a little crooked. and the next day, you’re a couple.

tom riddle

star-crossed lovers

poor you and tom. you could’ve been a love for the ages, meeting at hogwarts and quickly becoming attracted to each other. tom’s so charming, handsome and intelligent that he quickly sweeps you off his feet. but there’s something in his eyes that makes you a little uneasy. sometimes tom gets a look of terrifying fury on his face; his eyes go cold and unemotional, and it makes you nervous. you know tom can be possessive, a little overboard with his anger sometimes (a bit of a red flag, if you will). you can only hope nothing happens to him. you love him, you think he loves you too, and you don’t want anything to tear you apart. unfortunately, tom’s anger outweighs his love for you, and you’re forced to watch your lover turn into a cruel, twisted monster.

time travel love

every time I think of this I have to remind myself that harry potter isn’t a k drama, it’s a fantasy. but who says I can’t combine the two? I feel like I’ve read this in a fanfiction, but I really can’t remember where it’s from: in order to save tom riddle from becoming voldemort, you go back in time (whether accidentally or on purpose) and encounter the dark lord when he was still a teenager. and despite you knowing what he becomes, and knowing what you’re supposed to do, you can’t help but start to fall for his wit and charm. if you play your cards right, you might just be able to help tom wake up and walk away from his evil desires. and let’s hope you can play your cards right, because if anything happens to you or you walk away from him, voldemort will unleash hell.

divider by @saradika-graphics

taglist: @raysmayhem-72

[joicecubes]

HEY!!!!! HEY YOU!! (sits you down to listen to me yap about my queer headcanons for gravity falls characters)

mabel - okay lets get her out of the way. this girl is queer as fuck. she may not realize it yet, but in her teenage years i know she’s experimented with every single label and microlabel in existence. she’d try out hundreds of neopronouns. she realizes her obsession with boys as a kid was a result of comphet. i don’t have a specific label for her because i think in the end she’d discover she can’t make herself identify with any one label. because she’s just mabel! unlabeled and proud.

dipper - do i even have to say it… he’s trans. i think every queer person in this fandom headcanons him to be trans. moving on

stanley - he’s kinda unlabeled too, but for a reason opposite to mabel’s. ladies, gentlemen, doesn’t matter to him! i think its fair to assume he grew up believing that being gay was wrong, it was the 60s and 70s and his dad’s a piece of shit, but as he traveled the country and met so many different people and then witnessed the times changing around him… he’d just. grow into his attraction for men. like, yeah i like men? so what? he doesn’t care for labels. “bisexual, mabel? pansexual? quit making up words!”

(more starting with stanford under the cut this is gonna be sorta long)

stanford - hehehheee okay this is my favorite. i’ve thought about his sexuality a lot. he’s definitely gay to me, and i don’t have much reasoning for that other than like… my heart is telling me that’s the right answer. but he’s also definitely on the aroace spectrum. i personally think he’s demi or grayromantic, he feels romantic attraction VERY rarely and its part of the reason why he felt so helpless in the dating department as a teenager, and also why as an adult later on he tells fiddleford he doesn’t understand romance. he’s hardly ever experienced it! and he wouldn’t really KNOW he identifies with those labels until he’s back in his dimension and mabel is in her obsessed-with-queer-microlabels phase. he hears mabel say “demiromantic” and, being the nerd he is, immediately wants to know what this new word means and why he’s never heard of it before. so mabel rolls a big-ass whiteboard in and starts Mabel’s Guide to the Aromantic Spectrum! ford learns something about himself that day.

fiddleford - HE’S GAY. he’s gay. he’s so gay. i know he canonically has a wife but he literally leaves emma may to work on this mysterious project with his best and only MALE friend from college like… BE so fr. he made ford TWO christmas gifts and forgot to get anything for his wife!! i imagine his marriage to emma may was more of a way for him to deny his sexuality and live what he believes to be a “normal” life. and that obviously doesnt excuse the neglect to his family (because what the fuck fiddleford) but its how i personally make sense of his behavior.

bill cipher - bill transcends human comprehension of gender and sexuality. bill is just bill. but in human terms he’s a lover of all genders. as long as he can manipulate them, they’re fair game! (sorry ford)

wendy - okayyy yesss i know i used the comphet excuse once with mabel but i’m using it again god dammit. with the way wendy talks about her past boyfriends and how we see her be so vaguely invested in her relationship with robbie, it makes me think she’s either a lesbian or somewhere on the aromantic spectrum. she’s just not super interested! but she gives guys chances because why the hell not and is never super into any of it, eventually they break up, and she moves on with her life. i imagine sometime after high school is when she reflects on that and thinks… huh. was i ever attracted to men at all?

soos - saving the most anticlimactic for last… soos is straight to me. but he’s an ENTHUSIASTIC ally :)

thanks for reading i really like overthinking the theoretical queer identities of my favorite characters have a nice day (and let me know if you’re headcanons differ i would love to hear what people think!!)

[zooterscooter]

the people have spoken :) 7am ramble under cut tee hee

thoughts came to me while making this piece !! made coherent by a day of writing and rewriting my ideas

not entirely sure how to start this and i really hope it’s cohesive LMAO i’m really sorry if this is borderline unreadable i can’t tell

but anyway. i’ve been seeing a lot of art and thoughts about click clack and what he has under his literal and metaphorical mask and i want to throw my hat in the ring as well

firstly i think it’s a pretty clear take on masking who you are, right. as an editor you’re always cutting things out and making things better and more consumable for others to enjoy. but it makes me wonder where the story editing ends and where the self editing starts and continues ? in canon, he’s cutting out the romance from “oh partner mine!” because he can’t stand to face his own feelings for thespius, but that makes me question how much more “editing” he does on himself and his life ? even beyond his love life, his relationship with thespius ?

i think that he’s scared, obviously. along with being scared of love, i think there’s a real high possibility that he’s scared of the responsibility of being a god, even years after being one. see- he might think he has to be perfect for his followers and always have this perfect persona for them to follow, putting himself on a pedestal. being the best at what he does, making himself out to be something great- always talking about how amazing and handsome he is- but beneath that i think there’s a bunch of insecurity. it’s like.. man cmon there’s no way you’re actually like this..

i think he might choose to not deal with it- “i have issues but i also have people to watch over so idrgaf about that rn” style. even before the whole canon thing with the letters happened i think there was a high possibility that he still carried a lot of his insecurities and kept emotions from being mortal, not finding any time (or maybe any reason) to pick apart these things and grow from it.

he might think that he, as a god, cannot POSSIBLY be struggling with anything. gods aren’t supposed to feel things like that. gods don’t have to deal with things like identity issues and human emotions. something must me wrong with him and he can’t tell anyone or else they’ll think he’s unfit to be in his position. maybe thinking that if he shows even the slightest hint of not being what he pretends to be, he’ll be outed and shunned, or the . ggg equivalent of that. yknow.

but yknow going back to the original point- how much more can he do this, put on a front, repress everything that doesn’t fit this image of himself he’s created for others (that he’s now starting to believe he has to be), change who he is- how long can he continue on with this all before it gets to be too much to handle ? too much to keep track of ? what would his breaking point have been, if it weren’t for the canon events ?

who is he really, and does he even know himself ? sure, he can control what others see with both the literal and metaphorical mask, but what’s he like with all that taken away ? there’s of course a little bit of either in the other, but i feel like the lines blur so much that it’s hard for him to pick apart what is what.

i do think after the events in game, he would probably work through his. problems. with the help of thespius, the other gods etc etc. he was vulnerable enough to finally accept his feelings for thespius, so i think he might eventually get comfortable enough with it all to go through the more sinister things, especially after the whole “communication with loved ones is good and healthy actually” message of the game. recovery is sweeter with the company of those who care,,

another, less heavy idea i had about the mask was that maybe he wears it as a way to hide himself away from the spotlight partially. being an editor always meant being behind the scenes, right. so maybe he uses it as a way to have some familiarity, some anonymity. or perhaps- as a friend offered while reading this over- as a thing to hide behind looks wise. maybe be was just self conscious of his god form but then the mask is what made his brand or something and he just kept it on for those reasons.

however i had that thought a month ago and now have some other ideas. maybe that started OUT as his plan, just to use it as a way to keep his public and private life separate, or as a crutch for his self consciousness- but then he realized that with the mask he could be whatever he wanted to be, whenever he wanted. and then it went downhill from there, turning into a long and emotional wreck that would haunt him for years and years and years and years-

as a closing note !! i also think this could be taken as a transgender thing, as well as an autism thing, perhaps even both, and quite possibly all three. idk stay tuned if people like this insight i might work with it more.

but yeah anyways !! i had a lot of fun thinking about this and its has been sitting in my head for a week or so… i finally got around to making that art, which kickstarted people’s interest in this, which was nice. i’ll definitely be making more art for this all and PLEASE let me know your insight on this if you have any,,, im all ears

also obligatory “this is just what i think it’s most definitely not anywhere near canon pls be nice 💔” bc im an anxious man about to go to bed

[ticktockmyclockworkhart]

Tired of people being so dismissive of/slandering Wyll. Like I’m 1000% on the Astarion train but I recognize Astarion is genuinely a shitty person at times and his trauma doesn’t mean he can be excused from being things like yknow. Canonically racist. Like I adore Astarion but honey. no matter how much I love you you are a spiteful menace who needs to work on himself for real

But Wyll is just so nice and sweet and is such a genuinely good guy!! It disappoints me so much people don’t like him… and also on me liking Astarion, something I’ve seen a lot of in this fandom is a lot of people acting like you can’t like one kind of character without dragging the other constantly. Just because I like Wyll doesn’t mean I hate Astarion. just because I love Astarion doesn’t mean I hate Wyll. Literally all of the companions are deeply nuanced characters and yall need to give Wyll a break for real. When Tav has the option to say “he’s a good man. Maybe the best of us.” to Karlach they are RIGHT.

And it’s not like he’s boring or anything, I don’t know where that comes from… the son of a duke exiled from his home with a deep rift driven between him and the father he loves because a devil got her claws into him and convinced him to sign away his soul for the promise he could protect the people he loved? My guy what isn’t interesting about that?? And I love Wyll even more for the fact that, like Karlach, literally all the shit that gets tossed his way never stops him from being a good person. I always feel so bad breaking his poor heart when the game gives me his act 2 romance scene. Sorry buddy…

Wyll is my guy though and just because this is an Astarion loving zone doesn’t mean this is a Wyll hating zone. Door’s over there if you don’t like Wyll. When my Tav and Astarion get married he’s gonna be the best man. My dragonborn Tav thinks his horns are magnificent. Of fucking course I’ll do a little boogie with the guy.

I’m tired of people acting like genuinely good-aligned characters are boring.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

Okay I think I’ve finally come up with a plot for that jervis story I was telling you about. This is pretty long- I’m sorry 😭

Basically could follow the same plots as the ‘come on Eileen’ story with an age gap but obv themed for Jervis’s character. For the sake of everything, since this could be already dark-ish, instead of Alice being his sister, she’s his coworker. Very similar story tied with the btas version. Anyways continuing that, let’s say reader is Jim and Barbara’s kid all the way from episode 1 when they were still in there couple era (I miss it 😔). Jim had custody over reader when Barbara was sent to Arkham but once she’s out and running the sirens club, her and Jim come to an agreement for the sake of the reader to co-parent. Reader is about 10-13 during that time and then jumping to like season 3 with jervis being introduced, reader is around 17-19 (I’m not sure if this is the realistic time jump but whatever). During the first episode with how Barbara introduces tabby to jervis, imagine that same scenario but with reader also present. Jervis realizes how much reader reminds him of the book version of Alice with their curiosity, ambition, etc. I’d like to imagine Barbara finds it cute in a way similar with that one fix you did when jervis was leaving stuff for the reader while tabby is like “Stay away from the baby 😡”.

Now when Alice gets killed, we know jervis makes him go through all these games of killing and stuff and then he has to choose the one he loves. Instead of Val, it’s reader. As much as Jervis doesn’t want to hurt his current crush, he tries to be nicer about it and shoots them where the bullet won’t damage them as bad?? Idk where else I’m goin with this lol. I’ll let you come up with whatever else you wanna do. Be creative if you’d like.

I’d say basically it follows the plot of season 3 but without Alice and reader is present.

Thank you Cupid 🙏🖤

'DON'T BLAME ME, [PART ONE]

-GOTHAM!JERVIS TETCH X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; Everything's always the same in Gotham. Hard to imagine things changing.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!jervis x female reader. SLOW BURN!!! Not sure how many chapters this will be yet! LOTS OF PLOT SET-UP!! AGE GAP ROMANCE! (reader is Jim and Barbara's daughter) Readers got trauma. Reader's also a cynic and dissociating. She fell first, he fell harder. Writing this kind of artistically and as character studies for everyone. Jervis being an obsessive freak, per usual. Jervis and reader are soulmates, not just in his head but in real life! More about reader is revealed as the story goes on. I'm taking canon out back and beating it with a stick until it stops twitching.

⋆ tag list (tell me if you want to be removed!) @adalwolfgang @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @honestmrdual @moonlightnyx

⋆ 'PART ONE, - 'PART TWO, - ‘PART THREE, - ‘PART FOUR, - ‘PART FIVE, - ‘PART SIX, - 'PART SEVEN, - 'PART EIGHT, - 'PART NINE, -'PART TEN, - 'PART ELEVEN, - 'PART TWELVE, - 'PART THIRTEEN, - 'PART FOURTEEN,

Special thanks to @adalwolfgang for giving me the idea for this fic <3 really really excited to make this multichapter !!

♫ “Echoes of your name inside my mind / Halo, hiding my obsession.” Don't Blame Me by Taylor Swift

You feel like your ten again, staring into space, watching the passerby's from inside a Gala. You're mother used to take you there, when you're dad wasn't available.

You sometimes miss it, even though you used to complain. You hated just sitting there, hours on end, seeing rich people dance; like there weren't people being murdered on the street two blocks down. Maybe you took after your father in that aspect. It was a curse.

Your mom used to do your hair. You remember the way she finger-twirled your curls, gasping as she looked in the mirror. Eyes wide, she always said the same thing.

"Look at you, you're gorgeous!" You'd laugh and hit her on the shoulder, young and innocent. Sometimes, you'd make a mess of her lipsticks and bronzer. You'd try on her dresses which were far too tall for your young stature.

The sound of yelling rips you away from your thoughts.

This place isn't a gala. It's a club. And you didn't get ready with your mom, you got ready in the morning, waking up alone in your dads house.

You watch the two men argue from across the bar. You're cradling a drink; unsure what to do with it. Selina had stole it for you, somehow. You didn't ask questions anymore. You'd known her since you were eleven and she was eight. You didn't really like to drink. She knew that. You don't know where she ran off too.

Mindlessly stirring your glass in your palm, you can't help but squint under the bright blue lights. This place...it's not your first choice of where you'd like to be right now. Never is.

You hear a feminine voice calling you to the front of the club, and you can already guess who it is. You haven't seen her in a little over a week, not that it matters.

You decide to down your drink anyway. Who cares.

Pushing your way through the crowds of Gothamites, you notice the stage light up. Your mother and Tabitha stand in grand dresses. Tabitha's resting, one arm on the bar, looking effectively bored out of her mind. Your mother, on the contrary, looks utterly pleased. You fight the urge to snort.

There's a man on the stage. Long hair, cat-like smile. Your eyes follow the contours of his cheek bones. He's spouting something about waking up from an animal-identity. You're frankly lost, staring into his dark eyes. They look pitch black.

Sounds of clapping arise from the back. You simply suck your teeth. Someone new comes into the club everyday with a different act. This guy certainly wasn't any different.

"A magician? Really?" Tabitha asks, interrupting your thoughts. She sounds displeased and confounded, unsure what to make of Barbara's smile.

"Hypnotist." Your mom answers, correcting her. Ah, so thats what he is. You think. Couldn't hypnotize himself to have a better act? You almost make yourself laugh. Barbara mistakes it for agreeance.

"See! I like him! Y/N likes him!" Barbara chimes, smile lighting up to be a bit more genuine at your laugh. "Like mother like daughter. Plus, the place is packed. Be happy." She waves her drink around. Tabitha still looks peeved.

You want to correct her, but the words 'like mother like daughter' make bile rise in your throat. You don't speak.

"Just a taste, ladies and gentlemen." The man purrs, pulling your attention to him. That dark stare of his never once leaves the crowd. "But now...let us venture into something more arcane."

His eyes drift to you in the crowd, and it feels like a jolt of electricity. You wonder if he feels it too. He must have, since he cocks his head, pausing in his words for a little too long. His brows furrow, until the crowd begins to murmur. It's awfully intense.

You tear your gaze away to look at your mom, wondering if she was who he was looking at instead. It would certainly make more sense, given they must've been around the same age. But as soon as your gaze leaves his, the man clears his throat, and goes right back to speaking.

"The hell was that?" Tabitha whispers to me, and my mind goes blank.

"...No clue."

We watch the rest of the act, intrigued. He makes a man stand on the back of a chair, which definitely does not obey the laws of physics whatsoever. I can see why some people might find this amusing.

Your mom does bring up a good question though.

"So you could get him to do anything you wanted?" She asks, abet too excitedly. You want to roll your eyes. When you were younger, she would've made fun of this guy with you.

The man looks between the two of us, and you squint your eyes.

"Did you have something in mind, Ms. Kean?" He asks, and her gaze darkens. You feel a little sick.

As the act finishes, the man takes one too many bows, but the crowd eats it up. That blinding blue light still bounces off his face. Something about it is...unsettling. You notice it more as he stalks towards the three of you.

"Very impressive, Mr. Tetch." Your mom compliments. Mr. Tetch, huh. Well, you finally have a name for the man. "You have quite the gift. But you didn't answer my question. Can you make people do anything you tell them to do?" She speaks, slowly. Mr. Tetch looks flattered at the praise.

He clicks his tongue. "Only things they secretly wish to do," he remarks, eyes falling on me once more. "It's surprising what people will wish for," His eye contact remains on you, voice getting quieter. "Secretly. Deep down." He repeats.

Your mother makes a sound akin to a pleased hum. Tabitha looks between the man and you, and she looks less than amused.

"True," Tabitha speaks, pushing you to the side a bit. You watch as his gaze leaves yours, and snaps up to her. There's a ghost of a scowl on both of their faces that suddenly makes you confused. "You must be a very popular man."

She takes a swig out of her drink as she says the words, a bit sarcastically. Mr. Tetch, or whatever his name is, doesn't falter in his resolve. He instead offers a polite chuckle.

"Oh, I wish. Parties like this help pave my way, so, thank you."

"And you're new to Gotham?" Your mom asks.

"Yes...just arrived from up north."

"You have a place to stay?" Tabitha asks, head cocked. You begin to feel a bit embarrassed, heat rising in your clothes. They're asking the guy way too many questions. And he's a new comer. Poor man probably doesn't know a thing.

Before the man can answer, you butt in.

"Let the man breathe." You huff, and all three of them look at you in unison. Eyes-narrowed on you, the man blinks. Barbara looks at you, surprised, and Tabitha glares daggers.

Silence surrounds the four of you, and you shiver uncomfortably.

"Just saying." You mumble. Barbara raises an eyebrow.

"You'll have to excuse her. This is my daughter, Y/N."

Jervis's face lights up in realization.

"Ah, I see." He remarks, taking your hand. Tabitha instinctively steps close, watching the way he takes it. He presses a soft kiss to your knuckles. "Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Y/N."

"Thank you," You say, softly, looking into his eyes. It really does feel like time stops. You can understand why people are hypnotized by him.

Tabitha finally steps in between you two, as Barbara watches the interaction with vague intrigue. He drops your hand with some reluctance. You don't blame him.

"I think you should get going." Tabitha says, firm. The man simply nods.

"Very well. Enjoy your night." He speaks. "Ms. Kean, Ms. Y/N." He bids one last nod of goodbye, before turning on his heel.

[spookyspecterino]

Grunt Work

Sam Coe x GN! Reader

GN! Reader. No pronouns, no use of Y/N, or reader descriptions used. Reader is referred to as Captain sometimes, like in the game.

Canon typical violence: blood, injury, mentions of death, guns, language, romance, kissing. All PG-13.

Spoilers for the “Grunt Work” Quest

It’s the very first UC Vanguard quest. If you haven’t played it yet, I highly recommend it. Out of my 20-ish hours playing it’s my favorite so far.

No spoilers for the end of game (I haven’t even gotten close to it yet) or anything to do with Sam Coe’s romance questline (I haven’t finished that either).

Non-spoiler summary for this fic/quest:

Reader and Sam Coe go to Tau Ceti II to check up on the settlers in the Tau Gormet Production Center.

More descriptions of the fic with a more specific summary below the cut. I’m being very specific about spoilers because for most people, myself included, we’ve only had the game for a week.

More specific summary of this fic/quest:

The UC Vanguard sends you on a routine mission to check in on a settler colony on Tau Ceti II—it turns out to be anything but routine. With Sam Coe at your side, your first Vanguard mission is a baptism by fire.

Characters: Hadrian, Sam Coe, Vasco (mentions of other characters: Cora Coe and Barret)

“Vasco, do a quick comms check for me. I want to make sure it’s working after it glitched out on the last planet.”

The tall robot makes some beeping and whirring noises. The way it stares into nothing bothered you at first, but after some time you’d gotten used to it—even appreciating how it followed commands without hesitation. Over by the ships on and off-boarding ramp, Sam says goodbye to Cora. A smile spreads across your face as you watch them.

The Frontier’s external lighting illuminates the surrounding landing site. An otherworldly moon hangs in the night sky. You take one more moment to do a last check of your pack’s contents. This was going to be a routine check-in mission, but it never hurt to be safe than sorry.

“Comms are operational, Captain.”

“Thank you.” You wave goodbye to Cora who smiles and waves back before returning to the Frontier. “Comms are good Sam, ready to go?”

Your companion saunters over with that signature ranger’s confidence. “Always.”

“Great. I think I’ve got everything. Vasco, have I got everything?”

“Scanning now.”

Sam shifts from foot to foot. “Storm’s rolling in.” He comments, looking into the distance. “I’d like to get there before it starts raining.”

Sure enough, muted thunder rolls on the horizon and the wind picks up a touch.

“Yeah, yeah. Hold your horses, cowboy.”

“I don’t even know what a horse looks like.” He mumbles.

Vasco beeps affirmatively. “The necessary items are present, Captain. However, you are carrying more than the recommended amount.”

You sling your pack over your shoulder with a grin, ignoring the second part. “Thanks Vasco. You know, for a second there Sam, I thought you were going to say something about your joints hurting.”

“Ha ha. I’m not that old.”

You make a teasing face at him as you start heading toward the compound’s lights in the distance. The trek isn’t bad, mostly flat terrain with a few rocks here and there. The wind continues to pick up, carrying the scent of rain.

Sam hops over a rock, taking his place by your side. “Not to sound too over-eager to get this Vanguard busy work out of the way, but, where’s our next stop after this?”

“I was thinking we could explore the rest of this system. How’s that sound?”

“You know me, no complaints here.”

A radio tower comes into view, red lights along the sides flashing periodically. Beyond it is the main compound.

“Oh, Cora asked to keep an eye out on books specifically about ship reactors. She thinks she can fix ours.”

You hike your pack higher on your shoulder, already feeling the soreness. Blast your incessant need to carry every type of weapon part with you at all times. “I’ll be on the look-out. If she can save me a few credits and fix it herself, she’s welcome to try.”

“She’s a brilliant kid, but let’s do it on a planet with an actual mechanic who can make sure it works after. I have faith in her, but she’s 11 and you can’t learn everything from books—”

“Hold up. Sam. Stop.”

He freezes, noticing your stock-still posture, eyes fixed on the wide-open doors of the radio tower. Bright light filters out into the night.

“Does that look like a body to you?” you ask him, pointing toward a slumped over shape laying against a supply crate.

“Sure does.”

Unholstering your pistol, you both crouch and move closer. The grass underfoot sways in the wind.

It’s a grisly scene. Multiple bodies litter the area. All settlers—dressed in civilian working clothes. Blood splatters dot the concrete, some trail back to a body. Sam whistles, short and low, to get your attention. He’s looking inside. On the table is a settler, face up, arms splayed out and gutted. Clothes stained a vibrant red. Deep claw marks gouge out sections of the floor.

“No bullets, no casings in sight.” He murmurs close to your ear. “And it’s all fresh.”

You don’t need to look at him to know he shares your particular anxiety. “Let’s check out the main compound.”

Moving out of the small building and down toward the tar mac, you’re about to say something about the wrecked ship when an alien scream interrupts you. It sets every hair on end. Never have you heard a sound like that, even on the many planets you’ve explored.

In little to no time after the scream, a sharp static crackles over your comms, making you jump. Sam shuffles closer, crouched low next to you. If the situation wasn’t so tense, he may have chuckled, but he stays frozen and somber faced.

“I am so glad to see you.” The voice, a woman’s, sounds heavy with relief. “I think it knows you’re here. Hurry up to the second-floor office, I’ll unlock the door.”

As you make your way into the compound, it feels like walking straight into the lion’s den. Every sense is on high alert. Lightning flashes, making you see things in the shadows that aren’t really there. Only Sam’s presence behind you keeps you level-headed.

The brightly lit, glass windowed office only makes you feel worse, like a sitting duck on display.

“I’m Hadrian.” The woman introduces herself curtly while holding her side. “Are you my saving grace?”

“Not exactly. I’m UC Vanguard—sent to check in on the settlers.”

“Well shit.” She leans against the table, eyes closed in pain.

“Please don’t tell me we’re dealing with a Terrormorph here.” Sam asks, beating you to the punch.

She sighs. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Shit. That’s bad news, Captain. Real bad.”

“Listen,” Hadrian starts, moving away from the table, “I know you’re just two people, but you have to help me kill this thing.”

“And why’s that? Why don’t we all just leave now?” You ask.

“It’s unique. It showed up way too early. Tau Ceti’s only been colonized for 20 years. If this is a new kind of Terrormorph that matures faster and shows up earlier, we need to know.”

“Damnit.” You hiss. “Terrormorphs that show up after only 20 years of colonization could wipe humanity off the map.”

“Exactly.”

Rain begins to fall on the large windows with a clatter. The rolls of thunder were becoming booming clashes now. Visibility was already reduced at night, but now the storm made things worse.

You relent, giving up any notions of leaving. “Alright. I’ll help. Got any ideas on how to kill it?”

Sam’s eyeing you particularly hard from where he stands.

“Yeah, turrets. But we need to bring them back online and get them powered up. The terminal’s on ground level at the far end of the warehouse.”

Sam grunts. “So, closer to the Terrormorph?”

“I’m not sure where it is right now. My best guess is it’s still around the outer edge of the facility. But there’s a tracking system you can use on one of the terminals.”

You run a hand over your face. “Ok. Tracker and turrets. That’s better than nothing. I can make do”

“Radio me when you’ve reset the system and I’ll calibrate it from here. Thank you for helping and good luck.”

You and Sam sneak out one of the office doors into the warehouse. Fat raindrops fall on the metal roof, amplifying the sound into a loud drumming. It doesn’t come close to the volume of your heartbeat in your ears.

“Vasco, come in.”

“Reporting, Captain.”

“Initiate full lockdown on the ship. Tell Cora we ran into some trouble and are taking necessary precautions. If she seems worried, give her a book from my locker.”

“Yes Captain.”

You shut off comms and sling your pack from around your shoulders, attempting a commanding tone that you’ve always needed to fake. “Sam Coe.”

His usual raspy, low voice is layered with apprehension. “Captain?”

You’re pulling out weapon pieces from your pack for your rifle. They’re big—heavy duty—and add a decent amount of weight to the gun. “Go back to the ship.”

“I had a hunch you were gonna pull something like this. No. No way.”

“That’s an order—”

“Don’t try that with me. You know it ain’t gonna work.”

You pause, just as you’re changing out the rifle’s .50 Cal magazine with a 9x39mm eight round clip. “Sam.”

“I’m staying.”

His eyebrows are furrowed. Mouth slanted in a stubborn, almost angry frown. You’d have to dig deep. “Cora can’t lose you.”

“You always pull that card. It’s lost its affect.”

“…I can’t lose you either.”

You’ve never used that before and quite frankly are surprised to hear it come out of your mouth. Maybe it’s too soon. Up until now, you and Sam have only been flirting—no real feelings or moves have been made. It’s a bit of a jump, but you’re sincere.

His eyes hold yours unflinchingly. The crease on his forehead lessens a little. “Then you know how I feel and why I’m staying right here.”

He’s one-upped you and you weren’t prepared for it. You murmur a “Damit Sam” and go back to modifying your rifle. Fighting is pointless, and his admission has your nerves shaken more than you’d like. “Stay glued to my side unless I say otherwise. If things turn sideways and I order you back to the ship, you’d better listen. Got it?”

“Understood, Captain.”

“I mean it.”

A hint of his familiar smile returns. “I heard ya.”

“And Sam…”

“Hm?”

“No heroics.”

He doesn’t respond, his brows pinch together again. It’ll have to do.

Moving through the warehouse went excruciatingly slow. At all times you wished you could just get up and run instead, but it would signal the monster almost immediately. The whole situation made you feel like you were prey, scared and small. The addition of Sam’s presence put a heavy responsibility on your shoulders and that made you even more careful.

Hadrian was on your comms as soon as the system was reset. She directed you to the tracker frequency tuner in the same room. While finding the frequency, the system went into high alert—detecting the major threat. Your watch begins beeping steadily, and then rapidly speeds up. The Terrormorph was getting closer to your position.

Your eyes met Sam’s just as the alien appeared on the roof of the building outside. Right in sight from the room’s windows you were in. A rough hand yanks you down to the ground. Sam is crouched damn near on top of you, shotgun aimed up at it. However, it doesn’t notice you two in the dark room. You slowly cover the watch face to try and muffle the beeping sound. Maybe it was the rain, or the creature was just playing games, but it moved on past to a different part of the facility. Loud footsteps fading as it leaves. The radar lessens to a low, steady beat.

“Hadrian, come in.”

“I read you. The turrets are going to need their power sources reset with the security system in lockdown.”

“Great.” Sam sighs, lowering his gun. His shoulder leans into yours as he gets closer.

“We’ll find them. Out here.”

Reaching for your rifle, your hands visibly shook. You can feel Sam’s watchful gaze.

“Last chance to leave.” You whisper, aimlessly checking over your gun. You feel his hand squeeze your shoulder reaffirming.

“Not happening.”

The first power source wasn’t hard to find. You took the slow route, keeping an ear out for any changes in the radar frequency. The power switch was like a beacon, a big red switch on a yellow panel—it stuck out like a sore thumb. When you flipped it lights came on, loudspeakers announced to stand back…and the radar went nuts.

“Out, out, out!” You hiss, pushing Sam toward the far end door. He doesn’t need to be told twice as he beelines it.

With Sam leading, you follow him, scrambling up onto the roof of the building near the turrets. Two of the six are online now. Two more switches and you’ll have a fighting chance. Maybe.

Behind you, further in the facility, things crash. For now, it seems you’re safe.

You huff, lightening the death grip you have on your rifle. “Ok, here’s the plan. We’re going to split up.”

“I’m not gonna like this am I?”

“Take the watch. Find the power sources. I’ll create a distraction.”

“No.”

“Sam…” you exhale, closing your eyes. Despite the sheer terror you feel, you manage a chuckle. “We’re not going to get anything done if you keep arguing with me.”

“Let me create the distraction.”

“No.”

“Now who’s arguing?”

“Your shotgun has no range—it’s effectively useless, you’d be dead in two seconds.”

“Fair point. Then give me your rifle, I’m a good shot.”

You’re already unclasping your watch’s band from around your wrist. “I’m not taking the risk.”

“What if I wanna take the risk?”

Shuffling over while still crouched, you bring his arm closer. The watch slides on and you make sure to fasten it tightly. “You already know I won’t let you. At least now you can radio Vasco if…”

It didn’t need to be said.  

He looks at the device and back to you. “Why is this startin’ to feel like you’re on a suicide mission?”

You can’t look at him or you’d lose the last of your nerve. “I’ll be on that walkway over there. It’ll have to run through the turrets to get to me and they’ll still have a shot when it tries to climb up.”

The way Sam chews his cheek really underlines how unhappy he is with this plan of yours. “Remind me to have a word with you about your savior complex when this is all over.”

“Hm. I’m looking forward to it.”

A gentle hand wraps around your arm. His eyes are soft, pleading. His other hand cups your face, it’s rough and calloused, but warm. “If you need to run, then run. You don’t have to die for some Vanguard that sends you on a ‘routine’ mission they were too lazy to check first—or for a colony full of dead settlers. Ok? I want you back, with me, alive, and in one piece.”

You don’t trust yourself enough to speak, something sappy or cheesy may decide to come out, so you simply nod.

It isn’t enough for him. “Please, say you’ll come back to me. I need to hear you say it.”

If he wasn’t so close, he may not have heard you through the pounding rain. “I’ll come back to you.” You pretended that you meant it, that you believed it.

“Thank you.” His hand falls away to hold his shotgun. “Now let’s kill this thing.”

“Be safe.” You manage before turning and heading toward your position. The chill of the rain creeps through your spine, but the warmth from Sam’s hand lingers on your cheek. You try to hold onto that feeling.

The steel walkway is sturdy and grated, giving you a good vantage point of the surrounding area. Once in position, you set up your rifle and lay flat, adjusting the scope. Lightning flashes, the crash of thunder isn’t far behind it. Water runs down your face and you wipe it hastily to keep it from your eyes.

The bright fire of the flare casts everything in red. With a good toss, it lands directly in the middle of the kill lanes. Bringing out your pistol you shoot once, twice, up into the air. The alien screams and the sound of wrenching, tearing metal draws near.

The hulking creature appears at the far end of the kill lanes, focused on the flare. It’s huge, big enough to fill your scope’s sights. You breathe deep and exhale slowly as you take your first shot.

The round hits the Terrormorph square in the back leg, crippling it for a moment. Blood leaks out onto the ground below. It lurches before regaining balance on its five other legs, letting out an enraged roar.

More lights come on in the facility. Sam’s already found one power breaker. Two more turrets begin to flash and come online.

The monster’s head swings in a different direction. Toward Sam, no doubt. The realization fuels you with a cold fury. You crank the rifle’s bolt-lever, a long bullet casing flies out of the chamber with a cling. Sliding the lever back with a heavy clunk you even your breath and prepare to take another shot.

You take it, aiming for its other back leg, but miss—the shot glances off the ground. Six shots left.

The thing’s giant head swings back to stare at you directly. Through your scope it’s as if you’re staring it directly in the eyes. Its front legs stomp the ground, and it roars. It ambles forward right into the kill lanes. Four turrets open fire, knocking it off balance and sending it sprawling momentarily. You take another shot, this time severing its thinner front limb.

The thing howls, ear splittingly loud and shrill, but claws its way back onto its feet. The turrets are doing damage, but it isn’t enough. It lurches toward you with surprising speed. The turret fire follows. You take a shot and miss. You exhale and your breath comes out shaking.

It's at the base of the building your walkway is on as Sam flips the final switch and the last of the turrets power up. The Terrormorph slows down a little, struggling to climb the building with two of its limbs missing. You have another 130 seconds, maybe, before it reaches you.

Your fifth shot hits it in the back, effectively doing nothing. The thing is bloody and losing steam from the constant onslaught of all six turrets. You start to feel hopeful. There’s movement to your left. It’s Sam on one of the rooftops. You’re about to give him a thumbs up when lightning flashes—some of the facility machines spark, an alarm sounds, and all lights except for auxiliary backups flatline. An unlucky power surge from the storm.

The Terrormorph has reached the base of the walkway below and is trying to make its way up, now free from turret fire. This would be your chance to run, but something holds you there. A false hope maybe.

You hold your breath, take a shot, and hit it square in the face. It doesn’t stop, clawing at the thin metal for purchase. Pulling the bolt lever and sliding it home, you fire again, chipping its other back leg and causing it to stumble. Metal rails groan and collapse under the monster’s weight. It falls to the ground with a metallic crash. You don’t fire, yet.

Sam is still on the other roof. You wave him off, pointing to the ship. Trying to make it clear that this was the order to run. A clashing sound below snags your attention back to the monster. It’s testing out the strength of the rail supports.

You’re aiming again as it springs up and begins throwing its weight at the steel rods. The vibration of the metal groaning and shifting with each impact reverberates through you. This is your last shot.

You fire and miss entirely as a section of rails to your right collapse and bend, tugging your section down. You’re forced to let go of your rifle to hang on. It clatters to the ground below.

More support beams collapse and you can feel the structure groan before you even hear it, vibrating hard enough to numb your hands. Trying to climb up the tilting walkway was a mistake as the shift in weight caused the whole thing, with you attached, to fall entirely. The feeling of falling was short-lived, something sharp sliced at your leg as you fell into the railing and walkway debris below.

For a moment, you lay dazed and in pain. The sound of rain patters around you on metallic surfaces. The whole walkway and railing fell over, the area was littered with jutted angles and metal parts. Something shifted under the debris. Something big enough to toss heavy metal away with ease. Any hope of the Terrormorph getting crushed by the impact was gone as it reared back and screamed. Its eyes, all six or seven of them, landed on you.

There was no way of escaping, debris had fallen over you. A particularly large beam held you in place on your back. Your pistol, the last line of defense, dug into your hip uncomfortably.

Sensing it had you trapped, the creature took its time closing the distance. Your leg was devoid of all feeling except a vague sensation of warmth spreading around it. The rails on top of you pinned you down, but you managed to free your measly pistol.

Only three or four of your shots made contact, others glanced off the Terrormorph’s armored shoulders or missed entirely. Either way, the low caliber did nothing to it. With an empty mag, and nothing else to defend yourself with, your arm fell to your side. You just hoped Sam was smart enough to listen and go back to the ship.

A loud blast caught the monster on the side of its head, snapping it away from you, and causing it to stumble.

Apparently, he wasn’t.

Sam emptied three more shells into the creature before reloading with cool, practiced ease. One blast dislocated the Terrormorph’s other back leg. Chunks went flying.

It howled and thrashed as he kept unloading shells into it. When he was completely out, he dropped the shotgun and picked up a long rod of metal with a jagged, broken end. The sharp tip sliced clean into its ribcage. When the alien still tried to pull itself up on its remaining two feet, Sam pulled it out with a yank and drove it home into the thing’s head, right above the mandibles. It gave one final spasm and finally fell dead.

At last, the only sound around you was the rain.

Sam dropped the crude spear with a clatter, eyeing the body a few times as he rushed over through the debris.

“You ok?” he panted, kneeling down. His hands cupped your face, bringing the familiar warmth with them.

“Holy shit.” Was all you were able to say.

It made him laugh with relief as he moved to check you over. “And you said a shotgun wouldn’t do anything.”

His hands moved debris from your legs, and he hovered as you yelped in pain. “You’ve got a nasty gash here. We need to get you back to the ship for medical attention. Let me see if I can get this off you.”

With a grunt of effort, he pushed the beam up enough for you to pull yourself out. Your leg was bleeding badly, but nothing you couldn’t fix with some TLC and bed rest. The pain hadn’t set in yet, thankfully.

Near you was a chunk of the Terrormorph’s leg. Feeling oddly disconnected from yourself, you grabbed it, staring at the gross thing, and put it in your pocket for Hadrian.

Sam started taking out bandages and doing what he could to wrap your leg. You could see his hands were shaking now.

Against all odds you both were alive; you started to laugh.

Sam gave you an odd look. “Don’t go loopy on me.”

A giant smile broke across your face. “Wasn’t expecting to live. There goes my chance at a cool memorial or bragging rights.”

“Going face to face with a Terrormorph and only losing a chunk of your leg gets bragging rights. Believe me.”

“Nah. All the credit goes to you on this one. That was just badass.”

He grunted, throwing more debris out of the way, and trying to clear a path. “Wasn’t thinking about how cool it looked when I did it. I was just trying to save you.”

“You know I’ll be telling this story forever, right?”

He chuckles, helping you up, slinging your arm over his shoulder and wrapping his around your waist. “I can see Barret’s expression now.”

“‘Sam Coe, my hero’ is how I’ll start it.”

He groans playfully. “Please don’t.”

“It’s true.” You looked at him as your feet touched even ground. Your faces were close. You could see the rain drops clinging to his hair and beard. “You saved my life.”

When he looked over, his nose nudged yours from close proximity. He didn’t shy away from the contact. Your paces slowed to a stop. “I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again, either.”

Your grin was slow to spread as you glanced at his lips more than once. “Would you prefer a quippy one line as thanks?”

“Mm—no. Maybe something else though.”

You feigned ignorance as his eyes trailed down your face. “Oh? And what would that be?”

“I’ll let you think of it.”

“A hero’s song?” you joked, voice softening.

“Nope.”

“How about a poem?”

He faces toward the room Hadrian’s in with a low laugh and begins to walk again. “You know, if you were as much of a smartass to that Terrormorph as you are to me, it would have keeled over on the spot.”

You put your good foot down and hold it, halting any forward progress. “Ok, ok. I think I’ve come up with something.”

He’s still smiling as he looks at you. Your noses nudge again. “If you suggest a book or a short story—”

His surprised breath as your mouth presses to his is an award in itself. He stays motionless for a moment, as if his brain had short-circuited, before his lips move and mold to yours. Slow and tentative at first, exploratory. Soft and gentle as if he’s afraid of hurting you. His hand on your waist moves to your lower back, gripping your clothes. He leans into you, beard scratching the skin of your face. Your fingers slide through and tangle in his wet hair. It makes him pant into your mouth before kissing you again, more eager this time.

Breaking apart, you both linger close, hot breath mixing together. His forehead leans to yours, eyes still closed.

That raspy voice of his you love so much is the first to break the silence. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting you to do that.”

“You could have made the first move. I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Was never sure if you were just being quippy and flirtatious for fun or not.”

“It is fun, but it’s also because I care for you.”

He hums, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Good to know, we’re going to have to find time for this more often.”

You close the distance enough to ghost your lips over his. “We have time now.”

He hesitates, so tempted with the offer, but exhales instead. “You’re hurt and bleeding all over the place, I need to get you some medical help. Plus, Hadrian needs her damn samples.”

“Pshh. I’ve got plenty of blood left—and she can be patient.”

He starts walking again, bringing you with him, and pressing the gentlest kiss you’ve ever felt against the corner of your mouth. “Just wait until you’re healed. You won’t be able to keep me away.”

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

The fact I have to use multiple headcanons for some characters to make them palatable is bullshit.

Sorry this is a 3am rant as I am doing nights and am the half awake type.

But this specifically is about Cullen Rutherford and how in canon he’s a bitch ass. And Oghren to actually. Also a bitch ass.

But these characters have so much damn potential I wanna SCREAM.

Cullen is a character who is set up to be a creep in the first game. He has a crush on one of his prisoners and when the tower is taken by magic and he is tormented we see him break. In DA2, he’s a magic hating asshole who stands up in the final second against his boss. In DAI he’s the commander who gives lip service to changing but hasn’t.

This entire saga has me going; BUT WHAT IF?!

I think I ranted about this before but Cullen in DA2 could have been so much cooler if we saw him slowly have a come to Andraste sort of story. In the beginning he’s running on his trauma. Hates magic. Can’t see mages as people because it means then people hurt him and he can’t do it.

But then he begins looking around. Maybe Meredith says something or he sees how his men flinch when he’s around. He begins actually seeing things in the Circle that kind of go: wait. The Ferelden Circle tower wasn’t as bad as Kirkwall. Not good no, but Kirkwall is hell.

Cullen seeing the trauma of a young girl being made tranquil. Seeing a Templar abuse her. Stepping in and then… Meredith does nothing. Denotes the man but doesn’t care. Cullen, who was at mercy of demons for days, who was taunted with an image of a woman he fancied himself in love with… he watches and can’t understand it.

He hears of the Tranquil solution. Hears someone whisper of Alrik after and he… he can’t. He can’t do that. Talks to Meredith who dismisses it. Whose insanity sparks in her eyes. Who talks of mages are vermin.

Cullen wonders if he was like that.

I want an actual damn redemption arch for Cullen, and I would love to explore more of ‘the Chantry abuses the Templars to’ with their purposeful forced addiction and how awful it is to come off it. Having Cullen see how Samson is, seeing him so sick… it should be a moment where we see this man truly question things.

Then DAI. I want Cullen to have earned his position. I want him to talk about how he knows he has biases due to the tower and the demons. I want him to tell the Herald ‘I sometimes relapse. Just tell me’

I still want a voice to argue for the Templars but I want Cullen to argue about Tevinter and that dealing with slavers is never wise. I want us to see Cullen terrified of magic and him having to combat the feelings.

I want Cullen to have a slow horrific retaliation of the Chantry as he comes off lyrium but still can use his Templar powers. I want him to choke it out, shaking, that he has been lied to.

I want an actual redemption and him truly trying to redeem himself. I headcanon it all the time when playing because it is the only way I can put up with him. Even then I only have romances him with a non-mage human, because I can’t see him able to do anything else.

Then OGHREN. I don’t know if I talked about this but his entire relationship with Felssi never interested me because it feels like he’s repeating Branka. They insult each other and she talks to him like dirt. Exploring the idea he left not because he didn’t want to be a dad/is a bad dad but because he recognized he was in the same damn cycle would have been so cool. Plus having him actually change.

In origins, have him stop drinking as much. Have him talking not about sex or being gross but have him holding intelligent conversations with Sten on battle tactics. Have him argue with Shale about dwarves. Have him discuss withdrawal with Wynne.

Then Awakenings. Like I said, I think the discussion that his relationship with Felssi is toxic on both sides would be fun. Have him confess he realized he was right back where he’d started, have him drinking again… I’m not saying blame everything on the woman. I am saying that toxic relationships are hard to break and the idea of Oghren honestly being at a loss when he realizes where he is would be so much fun.

This is a headcanon I built to be able to stand the man.

And the fact I have to do so makes me want to beg on bended knee to BioWare: please don’t do this to me in DA:D.

[welldonebeca]

Happier Than Ever: Year 0 (2/2)

I'm starting to think I'm stuck in a dream, cause we're young and we don't know better.

Summary: Cato comes home from winning the 74th Hunger Games, and Luna has to adapt to how such a thing changes not only their once-peaceful life, but Cato himself. WC: 7.5k words. Warnings: Canon divengence - Cato wins the 74th Hunger Games. Tension. Pregnancy. Luna is autistic, and we deal with quite a bit of autistic overstimulation here. A little bit of angst because of that. Fluff. Smut. Emotional Hurt/Comfort. Smut. D/s undertones. Husband/Wife kink. Pregnancy. Pregnant sex. Praising kink. Dirty talking. A little bit of degrading kink. Orgasm control/denial. Smut.

Luna stayed there, unmoving, on the floor. She turned onto her side, curling up into a tighter ball, the plushness of the carpet keeping her comfortable.

She stayed in there for a long time before getting up and turning on the light inside, and just then realise the closet wasn’t exactly empty.

This one was enormous, easily the size of her bedroom back at her parents’ house. She stared for a moment, taking in the high ceilings, the built-in shelves, and rows upon rows of empty hangers, and it wasn’t filled all around, but there were enough clothes in there to surprise her.

At least ten dresses hung on display, delicate and impossibly feminine, all of them airy and light, as if they were meant to lift off the ground at the slightest breeze, all in pastel, soft tones.

She stepped closer, brushing her fingers along the soft fabric of one. It felt expensive, like they were for someone else much more important.

Not for her at all.

Luna peeked into the room before opening the door fully, and held her dress to her chest as she made sure it was empty, and peeked out through the curtain at the sound of people in the garden.

It was a nice garden. There were flowers in there and lights. Cato was out there, looking every bit the part of the charming victor as he spoke animatedly to the camera, his smile wide and seemingly genuine – though, if she knew him, that could be an act.

Lyme had told her about the Capitol, what it really could be like. If she was to marry Cato, she had to understand that they were the ones who dictated the terms. They wanted to craft a story, a fairytale of romance and triumph, and they had certainly been getting their wish.

And since her interview with Caesar – when Cato was one of the last tributes in the arena – they were getting it.

It had to be partially her fault, how easily she folded and gave them fuel. They wanted to make Cato interesting then, when it became clearer how he was going to win. He was not only a hero whose victory was not just a personal achievement, but part of a grand narrative. He won the games, and then he came home to collect his prize: his blushing bride.

Luna.

She watched him from behind the curtain quietly, not sure of what to even do as they kept rolling and laughing and entertaining. It felt like a lifetime until the crew finally left, and she was able to take a deep breath before slipping back into her dress.

She smoothed out the fabric nervously, and was about to leave when the door opened and Cato walked inside, completely stiff as he stepped inside.

Luna squeezed her fingers nervously, embarrassed and he huffed for a moment before clearly forcing himself to calm down.

“The closet?” he asked, his frustration barely masked. “Really?”

Luna he twisted her engagement ring.

“She was on my face,” she mumbled. “And touching me.”

“We talked about this,” Cato reminded her, his eyes strong as he stepped up to her. “You promised me you would behave well, that you could do it, and then I come home and you hide in the closet!”

She looked down at her feet, her skin burning in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” she twisted the ring more.

“Do you know how lucky we are they even let you be here?” Cato hissed, snappy. “That they let you welcome me, and all you do is cry and hide!.”

She glanced up at him.

Didn’t he understand all that she had gone through?

The horror of watching him fight with two dozen people for his life in the Hunger Games? Waking up to see him covered with blood in the TV, not knowing if it was his or someone else’s, escaping death time and time again?

“We haven’t seen each other in weeks,” she shot back. “Of course I was crying. I spent half that time scared you might not come back.”

He stopped, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of everything was pressing down on him.

“Everyone always knew I was gonna win,” Cato declared.

But he didn’t even sound like he believed in it.

And how could he? He had barely escaped the giant wolves – dogs? Beasts! - before his fight with Thresh.

She’d seen him almost fall down not once, but six times. It almost killed her!

If something had happened to him… Luna couldn’t even think off what would be of her.

“Well, I didn’t,” Luna mumbled, not looking at him as she crossed her arms tightly.

She couldn’t say it looking at his face – she knew she shouldn’t doubt him. As his wife, Luna should be his first fan and louder cheerer.

“You were expecting me to die?” he asked, a mix of hurt and disbelief in his tone.

She looked right back at him.

“I was afraid you were going to die!” she corrected him.

Cato exhaled heavily, and she turned away again just as he walked over, gently pulling her arm to uncross it.

“Well, I didn’t,” he said softly, parroting her words right back to her.

Luna looked away, but he moved his hand to her face, holding her by the chin and making her look at him.

“I’m here,” he said softly. “I didn’t die.”

She bit her lip, tears welling up in her eyes again as she struggled to hold them back.

He moved his fingers up to her face, and ran his thumbs over her cheeks, careful.

“I’m sorry you felt like that.” he told her. “It must have been terrifying.”

Luna swallowed down, her throat tightening.

It was. Very much so.

He leaned in and kissed her forehead, and that was all it took. Luna broke down into his chest, crying and whimpering like a child. Cato cradled her gently, holding her so tightly it was like he was afraid she would slip away.

They didn’t stay in that room.

Actually, after that day, the third floor just remained empty and untouched even by the staff.

The wedding preparations were… inexistent. Between the day Cato came back and the day of the wedding, a month later, Luna visited her home twice, spending a week there each just to get everything moving.

Mum was desolated that she had to leave, and Juno even cried at saying goodbye to her the day she officially left her bedroom – even after saying so many times she would love to be able to tear down her wall and make a mega room for herself now.

The studio was given back, and she gifted her old stone-cutting machine to some other aspiring sculptor, and tried on her dress for the first time two weeks before the actual wedding.

It was… terrible.

No, not terrible.

But it was strange.

Everything of the wedding was strange, like it was made for someone else – and it was; it was made for the Capitol, from start to end.

They skipped the bread ceremony, took their traditional vows away, and made it so different it was barely a wedding for Luna and probably anyone watching it in the district.

Yes, watching it. They made a wedding special about it and filmed every little thing – from the moment she had her dress on to the moment they closed the door of the top floor bedroom for their ‘wedding night’.

Luna didn’t remember a moment of it. The whole day was a blur of following instructions. And then, the two days after were a blur of trying to recover because she was so exhausted she could barely speak and couldn’t take a single brush of a hand against her arm, much less do anything a married couple was meant to do.

“Layers and layers of translucent chiffon and organza, gracefully cascading over the other on the skirt and sleeves,” Caesar Flickerman read on his card as the camera paned on an image of Luna herself smiling shyly to the screen on the TV show. “The bodice was embroidered with silver and pearls in the motif of flowers and took eight days of nonstop work to complete, that is fantastic, look at her.”

Luna was looking. And it wasn’t her – herself. The woman on the Wedding Special rerun was a stranger, decorated with so many shining things it almost hid the dull of exhaustion in her eyes.

“You looked like doll,” Cato rubbed his hand down her thigh, his touch very gentle. "They even made you blonde."

Luna was sat on his lap, her face hidden on his neck, her nose right where he used to have a beautiful mole.

“I was,” she sighed. “Ellyn just made me into a walking mannequin.”

Her hair was still growing out that colour change.

She glanced up at the screen, and the Bride was smiling at her Groom, slipping a ring into his finger with a shy smile.

“She looked straight out of a dream,” the commentator affirmed. “What was that nickname you gave her when we were talking?”

“The Capitol’s Delight,” Caesar declared openly.

Luna recoiled in discomfort, and Cato turned to look at her.

“You want me to turn it off?” he asked softly.

Luna sighed.

They hadn’t watched the special when it first aired, and she had no intention of watching it again now.

“We’ll be seeing them together soon on the Victory Tour!” Caesar’s voice boomed before she could respond. “Do you think she’ll have that marriage glow? She’s just so adorable, the way she looks at him.”

The commentator chuckled alongside him.

“Well, she’ll certainly have something new to show off,” he added, motioning toward his stomach in a crude gesture.

Her tongue soured.

“Please,” she mumbled.

Cato didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the remote, switched the TV off, and then turned back to her, his hand gently cradling the small curve of her belly where their baby grew.

They were having a boy — a very healthy, big boy. The doctors had told her that repeatedly, though one could barely tell by looking at her. She was ten weeks away from giving birth, and her belly barely showed it. Something wasn’t translating between the size of the baby and her own body - she was tall and strong, the doctors said. It was normal, apparently.

Cato was going to leave for his Victory Tour the day after tomorrow, and when Ellyn came to show her the dress she would be wearing to accompany him when stopped at their District to his way to the Capitol, the moment she put it on, she looked no more pregnant than she had on her wedding day.

“I don’t even look like I’m carrying him,” she mumbled, frustrated.

Cato’s fingers gently drifted to the spot where their boy usually kicked, tracing light circles over her belly.

“Well, he’s right there,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “We’ve been seeing him every two weeks for months now, little Loony."

Luna chuckled, the silly nickname lifting some of the weight from her chest.

“Our little Prince,” she corrected with a teasing smile. “Cato II.”

His cheeks flushed pink, the name still embarrassing him. It had been her choice, something she’d been quietly thinking about ever since he returned;

“I still can’t believe you picked that name,” he muttered.

“You deserved it,” she whispered, reaching up to caress his jaw. “Our son deserves it too.”

Cato’s face softened at her words, but there was still that boyish nervousness, a side of him she adored to see. It meant he was still himself.

Slowly, he looked down and away from her, focusing on the baby before sighing.

“Speaking of him,” he spoke slowly. “And the tour.”

Luna focused on him again, frowning.

He would leave for the tour the day after tomorrow, and spend a day on each district.

Cato promised a lot of things. Little trinkets from every place – a lump of coal from 12, some fruit that was only ever available on 11, fish and pearls from 4… things like that. It was silly and adorable.

“I was talking to Ellyn,” he looked at her face, very serious. “And we talked about what you will be wearing when I stop at two.”

Luna exhaled.

Yes, she would be there with him at his stop at District 2. She would give him his flowers and his hero welcome.

“Yeah?”

He moved his hand a bit more, caressing her belly under the big shirt she wore for sleep.

“She told me to… tell you... to wear something for the day,” Cato spoke slowly.

Luna hardened herself, clenching her jaw. That didn’t sound good at all.

“Which would be?”

Cato swallowed down, exhaling.

“A belly,” he told her, his voice barely loud enough. “So you’ll look… bigger.”

Bigger.

More pregnant, they had probably said.

She could almost hear the Capitol’s stylist team talking — round and glowing, a perfect picture of maternal beauty. Not… this. Not her little bump that barely showed at all and looked like a bloat after lunch and not an actual baby.

She got up from his lap, not meeting his eyes as she put on her shoes again. It wasn’t like they could say anything, was it? It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a command.

“Sure,” she mumbled, putting on her shoes. “Just tell her to bring it with the dress.”

Cato sighed, not moving from his spot on the couch.

"Luna," he called softly, his voice gentle, almost pleading. "Please."

But she didn’t listen to him, feeling her eyes already stinging with tears, and the lump in her throat tightened as she stepped away from him.

He hated to see her cry, they both knew that. What did falling into tears do? It didn’t help anything.

She stepped outside into the garden, the cold biting at her skin almost immediately, and she wrapped her arms around herself as she looked over the little strawberry bush the gardener had been nice enough to plan for them, boxed up in order to not infiltrate the soil.

Why couldn’t they just let her be?

She hadn’t won anything. She wasn’t a victor, she was just a random sculptor who happened to be married to one.

No other Victor’s family was expected to perform, and yet, they put all that on her.

The door to the house opened behind her, and she felt the big covers being put over her shoulders before Cato even spoke up, standing by her side.

“You know it’s not something I approve,” he murmured. “If it was for me, you’d have all the privacy you want. You wouldn’t have to show up, you wouldn’t have to wear those stupid clothes and that fucking…” he let out a long, angry breath, as if words alone couldn't express the size of his frustration.

Yeah, she knew that.

She didn’t doubt, even for a second, that if Cato had his way, she would never be subjected to the Capitol’s whims. But knowing that didn’t ease her own frustration.

If she didn’t have a choice in all this, then Cato — even with all his strength and status as a victor — had even less.

Luna’s hands tightened on the edge of the blanket, her knuckles turning white.

“They would ignore me if I was normal,” she breathed out, staring at the big fruit tree they hadn’t seen giving fruit yet.

“Normal,” Cato echoed quietly, his voice barely louder than a breath.

“Normal,” she looked at him, unable to hide the bitterness in her voice.

He had to know that.

She had heard it her whole life, how she wasn’t normal. How she was defective and would never be good enough.

"If I could perform, smile on cue, play the part like they want me to. If I didn’t hide the second someone wanted to talk to me, didn't flinch when they touched me... they would ignore me. I'd just be another wife, someone who would be blended into the background."

Cato’s jaw tensed as he looked down at her, the frustration evident in his eyes. He knew she was right. If she played along, if she gave them what they wanted—acted like the Capitol’s perfect little puppet… they wanted her because they knew she didn’t like the attention, because she wanted to blend in. They called her adorable because they knew she couldn’t help herself and it wasn’t an act!

Because she was odd.

“You wouldn’t be yourself, then,” Cato spoke suddenly, breaking the silence.

Luna turned her head slightly, confused as she met his eyes. Before she could ask, Cato leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her temple, his warm breath against her cold skin.

“If you weren’t… yourself,” he repeated, his voice more resolute this time. “The way you are now? That’s what makes you you.”

Luna blinked, trying to process his words.

“It's what’s right about you, your oddness,” he affirmed. “Normal girls are boring.”

She chuckled, feeling her heart warming up.

“I wouldn’t love you more if you were any different,” he told her. “If it helps.”

Luna smiled, breathing.

It did, a little bit.

“Let’s get inside,” he patted her shoulder. “It’s cold here, you don’t want to catch a chill.”

He led her inside, his hand warm against her back as he ushered her back to the couch where they’d been before. Cato didn’t hesitate — he pulled her back onto his lap, just like before, wrapping his strong arms around her as if shielding her from the world. Luna didn’t resist; she tucked her head into the curve of his neck, inhaling his scent that hadn’t changed since the first time she’d been close to him.

They could have touched his face, but he was still himself.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed out, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles on her thigh. He paused, as if savouring the words before speaking again. “My wife.”

The word set warmly in his chest – Cato loved repeating it into her ear, and now they didn’t need to hide that.

She shivered, feeling moving right up her skin, making her breath hitch. Cato knew exactly how sensitive she’d become lately, and he seemed to fucking adore this.

“My very beautiful wife,” his touch climbed higher, and his fingers ran over the back of her thighs, tickling her.

“Cato,” she squirmed, her voice coming out in a half-whine.

But he only hummed, feigning innocence as he leaned closer, his face hovering near hers.

“Yeah?”

His breath was warm against her cheek, as his eyes sparkled with that mischievous glint she knew all too well.

Her face burned and she cast her eyes down, but Cato simply grinned, nuzzling his nose against hers, and his hands moved higher up, grazing the sensitive spot on her inner thigh, and she parted her legs just a little, instinctively.

“What are you thinking?” he taunted her gently, brushing his fingers against the inside of her thigh from behind.

“Cato…” she took a hand up, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt

He just pouted teasingly.

Luna leaned in, closing the space between them, her lips barely an inch away from his before he pulled back.

“You have to ask,” he reminded her.

She glared at him.

He was such a tease.

“Kiss me,” she mumbled.

Her husband’s smile widened into a bit grin before he finally leaned in and closed the distance. His lips met hers, soft but insistent, and she melted into the kiss, moving her hand up and around his neck

There he was, firm and delicious – damn intoxicating. And maybe his lips felt a little bit different, but what he knew to do with them was still always perfect.

Cato moved his hand around her thigh, and she stretched one of her legs to give him space to touch her between them, but he just caressed her knee, dragging his teeth over her lower lip as he pulled back.

Well, at least he tried.

She pushed her fingers into his hair, tugging and pulling him closer again, and he met her right away again.

Cato devoured her as much as she devoured him, until her lips were aching and she was so hot that the feeling of his hand just caressing her knee was torture.

He pulled away from her lips, taking his kisses down to her jaw, and she was panting when he start giving her jaw little nibbles. And his hand hadn’t fucking moved.

“Cato,” she whined. “Your hand…”

His tongue licked up the skin of her neck, and she gasped when he dragged his teeth over her sensitive spot.

“My hand?” he cooed back.

Luna spread her legs more, giving up on being subtle.

She had barely anything on – a big old shirt of his and her panties, nothing much.

“Please,” she sighed, closing her eyes when he sucked a bruise on her skin.

He chuckled right against her neck, his hand travelling up, and she nearly cried in relief as his fingers caressed her skin, up her sensitive inner thigh and to her cotton underwear as he sucked onto her skin.

“Yes, please,” she panted.

“Right here?” he hummed, rubbing his knuckle over her seams.

She arched her hips, chasing the touch, but he took it away just as she tried to.

“Please,” Luna whined. “Husband.”

His knuckle ran over her pussy lips and pressed against her clit, and she couldn’t help her moan.

“Wife,” he whispered back.

And he pulled his hand away!

Luna reached for his wrist, completely impatient, and he laughed.

“So impatient!” he clicked his tongue.

She kicked the couch, and he pushed her hand away from his own, holding her in place.

“Behave, wife,” he taunted her.

She pouted, and his touch moved right up her torso, pushing her shirt up with it, and Luna knew too well the way he hoisted her up with an arm on her back, dragging the fabric over her belly and her chest right as his lips came to her tit.

Her breasts were so sensitive since he came back. Maybe even before, but she hadn’t paid attention.

“Cato,” she moaned.

His lips curled against her skin as his teeth dragged over her poor nipple as she squirmed, hot between her thighs.

He didn’t relent, sucking onto her, holding her in place as she writhed in his grip. By the time he changed to the other side, she was moaning wordlessly and her underwear was probably fucking soaked.

“Cato,” she reached for his arm, his grip too strong to escape.

Cato just hummed against her chest, licking up her skin and flicking her nipple before sucking her flesh into his mouth.

Luna tried to close her legs, but he was much faster, slapping her inner thigh and spreading her more as she cried at the sting, not even taking his lips away.

Fuck, he was so fucking mean. Her pussy clenched around nothing, empty as his fingers squeezed her.

“Cato,” she cried, arching her body. “Please. Please.”

His hand was free, couldn’t he just fucking touch her?

Cato let her breast go, his chin wet with saliva when he looked up at her, his eyes dangerous and predatory, and she gasped when he slapped her poor thigh again, holding her so tightly she could barely squirm.

“Ask nicely,” he commented.

She whined, spreading her legs as far as they would go, trying to thrust her hips and make his hand move higher.

“Please,” she begged. “Cato, please.”

Didn’t he know what she wanted?! What she needed?

He raised his hand, and instead of slapping her thigh, he smacked her right between her legs, practically over her clit, and she cried out and jumped in surprise.

It was maybe the third time he did that, and fuck it if it didn’t make her brain melt.

“With words,” Cato corrected her. “Not trying to shove that needy pussy on my hand.”

Her whole face burned in embarrassment as she panted, trying to hide her face in his neck, but he didn’t let her, resting his forehead on top of hers, looking into her eyes.

“Go on,” Cato nearly purred. “Be a good wife.”

She could feel herself getting wetter at that

“Please,” she closed her eyes, her voice as soft as it could be. “Touch me.”

He didn’t relent, rubbing his nose on hers.

“Where?” his fingers caressed her inner thighs. “Where do you want it?”

God.

“My pussy,” she whimpered. “Please, Cato.”

He moved his hand up slowly, his knuckle caressing her up and down.

“Like this?” Cato asked, all sweet.

Oh, she wanted to fucking cry.

“Please,” Luna whined. “You know it!”

He kissed just her chin sweetly.

“I do?” her husband asked, practically fucking cooing at her, like she was a puppy. “I know what you want?”

She felt her eyes all wet, filling up with tears.

“Yes,” she practically whispered.

“You want me to touch your pussy?” he pressed his knuckle on her clit.

Luna whimpered.

“Inside me,” she pleaded, panting whining.

He hummed along, not stopping his slow caresses.

“And what do you want inside you?” he circled her clit mindlessly.

She couldn’t even speak, thrusting her hips forward for more pressure, but he took his hand away.

“No, darling, use your words,” Cato insisted. “I can’t read your mind yet.”

Luna grabbed his wrist, clenching her hand around it.

“Take it off,” she whispered. “Please?”

He licked her lip and moved slowly, hooking his finger on the gusset of her panties and chuckling.

“Oh, my wife,” he purred. “Look at that.”

She wanted to hide even more as he pulled her panties down her thighs and legs, obediently letting him strip her.

Cato moved his head away from her, and she opened her eyes just in time to see him moving the fabric in his hand.

“Look at this,” he smirked, showing it to her. “I buy you all that pretty fancy underwear and what do you do with it? You soak it up.”

He clicked his tongue and Luna’s neck burned along with her face in her embarrassed flush. The gusset was shining completely, she couldn’t even look. But she did, and Cato didn’t even think before sticking out his tongue and licking up her wetness from the fabric, and she whimpered, even emptier now.

“Poor wife,” he looked at her face. “So wet you’ve ruined the pretty panties.”

Luna panted, trying not to pout more, and gasped when Cato moved his hand between her legs, caressing her wet lips with two fingers, and she felt her eyes moisten as small tears slipped down her face.

“My poor darling,” he mocked her, circling her entrance with the pad of his finger, and she moaned softly, unable to keep her sounds down. “I know better, don’t I?”

She panted, unable to tear her eyes from his.

“Please,” she whimpered. “Cato.”

His thumb gave her clit a wide circle.

“Don’t I?” he insisted.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Yes, Cato, yes.”

He pushed two fingers into her slowly, rubbing against the sensitive entrance of her cunt, and she practically sobbed in response as he curled them against her sweet spot.

Luna couldn’t help how loud her moan was, and he fucking mocked her by opening his mouth the way she did as she moaned.

“Like that?” he purred. “You like that, wife?”

She couldn’t even answer him, his fingers taking her whole mind, and he grinned when she only nodded.

“So pretty,” Cato licked his lips, his eyes moving right down her body.

The praise climbed up her spine and made her brain tingle.

“Why don’t you take that off, my pretty girl?” he told her. “So I see all of you while I give you what you need?”

She barely thought before tugging on her shirt, and though it was a bit of a struggle, she took it off and tossed it away, earning a very intense look from him.

It would never tire her, the way Cato looked at her like she was the hottest woman he had ever set his eyes on.

He moved his fingers slowly, keeping his eyes right on her as he moved his lips down to her chest again, kissing her raw nipple again before taking it in his mouth again, sucking and biting, making her brain go haywire with the double stimulation. Her eyes outrightly rolled back when he pressed his palm against her clit, and she couldn’t help the big moan that came out of her lips.

It was fucking heaven.

He played her like her body was an instrument, too well-versed in it to keep her wanting at all, and soon Luna was a squirming mess.

“You hear that?” he asked, his fingers moving fast, and it took her mind a minute to process what he was trying to make her listen to.

Squelching?

Wet-

“Oh, fuck,” she groaned.

Herself.

She squirmed, unable to keep her walls from clenching around him as she tried to hide her face into his neck. But he was faster, pushing his fingers into her hair and holding her right in place.

“What a good wife I have, don’t you think?” Cato praised as the knot in her belly tightened. “Taking my fingers so well in her needy cunt, like a good, good, good wife.”

Each time he repeated good she clenched more.

His eyes were right on hers, the beautiful blue almost gone in a pool of darkness, and she struggled to keep her own eyes open.

“No, no,” he pressed the heels of his hand against her clit when they fell closed. “Look at me.”

Her whole body roared in response.

“Cato,” she grabbed his shirt.

Please, she was so fucking close.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he commanded. “I wanna see.”

Luna squirmed more, her vision blurring with the tears.

“Please,” she stuttered. “Cato, please.”

She inhaled deeply, nearly dizzy as he kept moving, fucking her in and out, rubbing her everywhere.

“You want to cum on my fingers?” he asked, his voice too soft against her moans, too controlled when her mind was all his and not hers at all. “Is that why you’re squeezing me so sweetly?”

Luna nodded, panting, desperately clinging to him.

“Yes, Cato, please.”

He moved faster, keeping his eyes right on her, and Luna’s whole body just gave in to him, melting as she was pushed closer and closer and closer to the edge, and she could practically felt her foot sleeping over it before he fucking pulled away.

She cried out at the loss of his fingers, her whole body shaking with the unfulfilled pleasure, and he laughed cruelly at her reaction.

Cato moved like a blink of an eye, so fast that her melted mind couldn’t notice. All she knew was that he was holding her wrists together, her hips were pinned down and her back was against his chest.

“Cato!” she cried out, trying to free her own hands as hips thrusting against nothing. “Please!”

His cock twitched against her ass, already hard in his sleeping pants.

“Please, what, my darling?” he spoke against her ear. “You had asked me to touch you, I did. I gave your pretty pussy my fingers, I touched your pretty clit and sucked you pretty tits… what else could you want?”

Her voice was broken and raw when she found it.

“I want to cum,” she pleaded, her head falling on his shoulder. “Please.”

He laughed, completely amused by her suffering.

“Oh, my poor wife,” Cato lamented. “You want to cum? You do?”

Luna pressed her ass against him, trying to at least get him to break.

“Please, please,” she pleaded. “Cato.”

He raised her hands, moving them all the way to behind his neck.

“Keep them right there,” he commanded, kissing her cheek.

Luna squirmed. God, please, she couldn’t take more teasing.

“It is a craving, my little wife?” he caressed her torso, running his hand over her belly before going up to her tits, squeezing both. “Are you craving cock?”

He pinched her nipples, tugging on them.

“Am I keeping a poor,” he spoke slowly, twisting them. “Sweet, needy, pregnant woman from her biggest craving?”

She tried to move her hips more, but he just moved a hand down, holding her in place.

“My darling, poor you,” he mocked her.

His fingers came right between her legs again, caressing her faintly.

“I mean, you are making a big, big mess,” he noted. “Got my pants all messed up already, my darling.”

She pushed her fingers into his hair to stop herself from moving her own hands.

“What are you going to say to the cleaner?” Cato asked mockingly. “That my wife is ruining her underwear and my clothes because she can’t stop craving cock?”

Her whole face burned, and he exhaled longingly.

“Well, I can’t deny a craving,” Cato sighed, dramatic. “I did promise you that, right? Can you imagine if the baby came out looking like… well. Me.”

Well, Luna didn’t have time to laugh or think about if the old midwife joke was funny or not, he was already moving her.

The couch stretched under her body as he lied her down on it, expanding to at least a small bed – the size of the bed they first had in her little studio.

Cato slipped to her side, turning her to her side and slipping right behind her, moving his lips right to her neck.

“Say please again, darling?” he kissed her earlobe. “Please, husband, fuck me with your cock?”

She closed her eyes, melting as his hand came came around her side, squeezing her breast.

“Please, husband,” Luna moaned. “Fuck me with your cock?”

He let out an amused chuckle behind her, so soft she only knew it because she felt it.

“So obedient,” he praised her, squeezing her neck, pinching her nipple, tugging and twisting it for effect, making her moan in reaction.

“Cato,” she panted.

“Shh,” he kissed her cheek. “It’s okay, my darling, you were so good, weren’t you? Waited for me so well…”

He moved his free hand down, and Luna’s eyes fell closed as she felt his cock brushing against her wet lips, and Cato teased her with the tip, up to her clit and down to her entrance before going up again.

“Please,” she whined, reaching for his arm. “Please, no more teasing.”

She couldn’t take it. Please.

“My poor sweet wife,” Cato kissed her cheek. “It’s okay, it’s okay...”

The tip of his cock finally – finally, God, fuck – breached her.

He pushed inside so patiently it burned her up, and the sound that left her lips was a raw moan – desperate really, but she couldn’t control it.

Cato moaned into her neck right before taking his hand up again, pressing her whole body against his.

“Like, this, darling?” he moved his hips slowly, fucking her ever so gently.

Luna’s eyes practically rolled back.

“Cato,” she pleaded.

But he just adjusted her to make it easy to touch both her breasts, and Luna gasped out when he simply moved back to playing with her nipples, running his short nails over the tips and making her mad with pleasure and frustration.

“Love how sensitive these have become,” he bit her earlobe. “Could spend a whole da playing with them, making my sweet wife so needy.”

Luna clenched around him, moving her hips, trying to thrust them back to his.

“Please,” she cried, breathless, trying to grab his hand and push down between her legs. “Cato, please.”

His grip was soft enough she could drag his hand down her torso and to her pussy, and Cato chuckled into her neck, slapping her thigh.

“Please, please, please,” he mocked her. “Don’t I have my cock inside you, wife?”

She whined, trying to move his hand again, but he didn’t budge, pushing his cock all the way in slowly and pulling out just as gently.

“I was so excited, thinking all about the ways I can touch you and make you feel good,” Cato taunted her. “How I would spend my day worshipping your tits, making you cum just from them...”

Luna felt herself squeezing him just from the thought of it.

“But you are so impatient,” he slapped her other thigh. “So demanding…”

He moved the hand he had on her breast up, wrapping it around her neck, and she felt her whole body twitching.

It was how he did it, how he teased her when they were like that.

A hand on her neck and another on her clit. He never squeezed or hurt her – it was about power.

“What do you want?”

Well, he knew what she wanted. He always knew.

And he never gave in.

“I want to cum,” she pleaded again. “Cato, please.”

It wasn’t fair.

He turned her head to make her look at him, and Luna practically melted when their eyes met.

“Of course,” Cato gave her lips a little peck. “How can I ever deny you?”

And then he did it all at once.

His hips picked up pace as his finger came right to her clit, and she practically screamed in reaction to him, fighting to keep her eyes on his as he gave in to her pleas.

“Like this, wife?” he practically growled.

The muscles of her torso tightened in reaction.

“Yes, Cato, yes.”

She fucking ascended into the high of space.

Luna still remembered when they were starting, when he was a bit too big and she was a bit too nervous, but how eager he was for this – for what they had now.

“Always takes me so fucking well,” he rubbed her clit in tight circles. “Always so good for my cock, aren’t you? It’s why you’re giving me a baby.”

Her eyes nearly crossed, the pleasure pumping in her blood.

“My sweet darling, my sweet wife,” Cato moaned into her sin. “Drenched every single time I get inside her, so easy to arouse… just a couple of kisses and firm touches, right baby? Almost like you want me to put another baby inside you already.”

Luna moaned out, the thought making her drift even more.

Another baby, yes. He could give her as many babies as he wanted.

“Let’s make you cum first,” Cato rubbed his nose on hers. “Get that sweet cunt to milk me.”

Her toes curled against the soft fabric of the couch, and his finger didn’t stop, smart and trained on her body, and she shook under him.

“Cato,” she pleaded, feeling the knot in her belly so tight it was all she could feel.

“Go on, darling, cum on my cock.”

Maybe she said his name – maybe she just said something that didn’t make any sense in English. Luna just became a mess, her cries flowing out in pants as she rolled her hips, desperate, floating.

“There you go, there you fucking go,” Cato slammed his cock into her, hips hitting her ass so hard and fast the sound of flesh against flesh echoed through the room.

And Cato didn’t stop.

Not with his hips, not with his fingers, and he took his hand from her neck to play with her nipples again, teasing and twisting and taunting her beyond her mind’s power of processing.

He was everywhere and everything at once.

It overwhelmed her in the first few times – how big and good it felt when he focused on her, so eager.

And it overwhelmed her in a completely different way now.

Luna could barely do more than breathe and moan, limp, being thoroughly fucked and used by him.

“Please,” she panted. “Please, it’s too much.”

Cato’s fingers twisted her poor nipple, and she yelped in shock.

“I can’t-”

“Again,” he commanded, the circles on her clit tight and fast. “You’re gonna cum again.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she couldn’t help the way her whole body sobbed as he pused her further and further, completely out of control.

“Ca- ah,” she cried.

He slammed himself into her hard and tight.

“Cum on my cock again.”

Luna did so, her throat dry and her cheeks wet when she did, and Cato squeezed her breast so tightly it was bound to leave a bruise.

She was still riding her high when he pushed her and spread her legs wide open, slamming his cock into her as his hand held her hips in a bruising hold, hurting her deliciously.

His face came to her neck and he sunk his teeth tight into her skin, moaning right into it as he filled her to the god damn brim.

He kept fucking her, slowly down little by little, into they were just wrapped around one another quiet, panting, and she rested against his chest when Cato leaned in and kissed her tear stained cheeks, probably tasting them.

“I love you,” he whispered, nuzzling her skin. “I love you.”

She rested her headon his shoulder, panting and sniffing as Cato rubbed and kissed her skin, and she squeezed his shoulders when he wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up to go to bed.

They had taken the biggest bedroom on the second floor, right beside his office and across a nice bathroom.

It was better than the top floor room – much closer to everything in the house, less isolated and with way less empty space.

When the baby was born, they were going to keep his crib by their bed, and there was a room nearby when little Cato was old enough to stay in his own bed.

Luna was half-sure they'd spend years with their little Prince between them in the bed anyway, even after he was weaned out.

Caro held her for a long time before leaving her, and Luna exhaled as she rested on the cool mattress, feeling the sweat drying on her skin, and opened her eyes when he came back into the room.

Oh, he was a vision. Tall and strong, chiseled like he was sculpted by hand on every little inch of his body.

She tried to keep it off her mind that in some ways, he was.

"Open up," he spoke softly, coming to her.

Luna spread her legs, and winced in surprise when he cleaned her skin with a soft warm cloth - she was still sensitive!

"So sensitive..." he spoke softly, running it over her thighs. "My enduring mystery of a woman..."

She chuckled, but kept herself in place, and he kissed her ankle before stepping away.

Luna spread herself on the bed for a moment, relaxing on the cool, soft sheets.

They had good sheets.

He came back and slipped into bed by her side, settling a little lower, resting his head right by her belly before cradling it in his big hand.

Luna looked down at him, and his eyes distant as he ran his fingers over her side.

"Is he awake?"

She chuckled. Oh, God, she hoped not!

Their baby was a little bit of a night owl. He usually woke up around eleven at night and made sure she knew he was unsatisfied that the night was for sleeping.

“No,” she reached down, petting his hair. “But I’m sure he’ll be awake soon.”

Cato didn’t say anything, only brushing his lips against her skin.

“Do you think he’ll like me?” he asked suddenly, raising his eyes to meet hers.

Luna’s shoulders fell in surprise, and she felt herself softening as she petted his hair.

“Of course he will!” she affirmed.

But Cato shook his head, looking away from her.

“I hate my dad’s guts,” he reminded her. “It might be a family curse.”

She moved her hand down to his cheek, caressing his skin, but he refused to meet her gaze.

“Your father deserves to have his guts hated,” she reminded him.

Luna knew enough about Mr Hadley, and she was very glad that even when he returned from his tenure as a Peacekeeper, he would be far away from them.

He would never meet their baby, and he wouldn’t ever insert his bitterness into their little family.

Cato kissed her belly slowly, as if he was doing it to their baby.

Luna ran her fingers up to his hair again, breathing out slowly.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

She knew that face of his.

But Cato didn’t answer for a long time.

“The nightmare,” he mumbled.

Luna swallowed down, closing her eyes.

He had many nightmares since the games.

The Trackerjackers, the explosion of the mines, the death of Clove, the mutants, the fight with Thresh…

But that wasn’t what was he was speaking of. It was an old nightmare, not from the games.

“His hands,” he hissed, eyes completely unfocused as his face curled in anger and he too his own hands to his neck. “Squeezing her as she fought him, like she was some enemy. Not his wife!”

Cato almost spat the word, and Luna was quick to move down, pulling him up, holding his face in her hands.

She caressed his cheeks as he grimaced, never one to cry, but she just knew him. She knew it hurt.

Luna kissed his skin, all over his face – every bit she would reach.

“You’re not him,” she affirmed, emphatic. “You’ll never be him.”

[vigilskeep]

Out of curiosity, what direction would you have taken Cullen's character in Inquisition? Or would you have included him at all? :3

oh man well

first of all i’m not sure i’m the best person to answer the question because i am profoundly uninterested in cullen. even in dao, his most cohesive appearance by a mile, where he features in my favourite origin, he um... he sure is there! he serves his narrative purpose! i don’t know what else to say

more in the spirit of actually answering your question, i think dragon age inquisition is as fundamentally incapable of making good use of cullen as a game that would make cullen part of its main squad inherently must be. dragon age inquisition is not capable of breaking down what is wrong with the templars, which is why you get... i don’t know why people call it a redemption arc even in quotation marks. he just shows up. he still supports the templars, and would rather you go to them, who shouted you down in the street, than the mages, who by all appearances straight up invite you over. he has not had to face the consequences of his work in the templar order or his treatment of mages; for all intents and purposes, from his perspective, all he did wrong was not notice that his knight-commander was an anomaly who was crazy. he is fundamentally the exact same guy who told me to my face mages were not people, except he’s polite about it now, because this is dragon age inquisition and we all just need to shut up and come together to defeat the Real Problems. it is completely canonically possible for him to have taken part in two circle annulments, one of which he personally instigated. dragon age inquisition does not care!

so to take cullen in a decent direction for his character—if you insisted on bothering to include him in yet another game at all—you would have to be writing him in a different game than the one where the hero has no choice but to lead an organisation with cassandra and cullen at their side, where every challenge to that organisation’s divine purpose is laughed off. (meanwhile one seemingly humble elven apostate, who actually has entirely other concerns, is the only compulsory mage. no rebel aligned mages are even optional companions in the game.)

i am interested in what it would theoretically take to write a compelling ex templar character. my own inquisitor is an ex templar! dragon age is a series designed to challenge your ideas of what backgrounds allies can come from, and designed to throw in your face that, for better or worse, good or evil, everyone on every side is also a person who believes they have their own reasons to do what they do. but if you wanted the ex templar character to be cullen, you have to challenge the foundations of his beliefs as a templar. you have to make him... actually regret being a templar? criticise the templars for anything other than imperfect service to the chantry and impolite wording of their deadly prejudices? you might even want to consider centring his personal quest on, hey, the terrible things he’s done and believed, not on the harm to the poor little stoic self-sacrificing templars

sorry this is coming across a little aggressive. you see why i’m the wrong person for the job. i don’t like cullen and he was an antagonistic force in the previous two games who my characters felt personally threatened by. i don’t see why i have to swallow that he’s one of the good guys now without him facing a single consequence, much like cassandra, who was introduced interrogating my friend. (but hey, this religious army has good intentions!) and i certainly don’t see why you would not only do all that but make him the face of a ludicrously flat, wish fulfillment romance only available for women of the conventionally attractive races (available for circle mages! with a throwaway line about how she’s not like the other girls to address it!) to get straight married and settle down with a dog and a picket fence. (i’m not saying there is no place for wish fulfillment romances whose only stumbling block is cutesy awkwardness. but that’s not what dragon age is for! where’s the teeth! it’s representative of a wider tone change in dai that i deeply dislike and if i get onto it i’m going to make this post so long. and with this man?)

idk i think cullen should have been the rogue templar breaking rules to hunt wardens in awakening and sigrun should’ve got to cut his head off. the end. that’s my ideal. sorry again

[orionsangel86]

The Problem With Thessaly

I’m sure plenty of fans would agree with me that there are certain elements of the Sandman comics that are going to be very difficult to adapt for television. I don’t envy the mammoth task Neil and the creative team on the show have ahead of them. But one element in particular which has been on my mind frequently is how they are going to introduce Thessaly to our screens.

It’s not just that she’s a TERF. It’s that she’s a cold, cruel, selfish, and inconsiderate bitch who only ever thinks about herself. Oh yeah, and she’s a huge TERF. There isn’t a single likeable element to her.

And yet.

We are supposed to somehow believe that our main protagonist, idiotic as he may sometimes be, depressed and seriously down on his luck as he is, will fall head over heels in love with her.

Sorry. But it ain’t happening. Something has gotta change. So here are my thoughts on how they could fix the Thessaly Problem.

Under a cut for comic spoilers (and its a bit long)

I kinda get the reason it happens in the comics. Kinda. I can’t remember the exact quote, or where I read it, but Neil explained it as “two people who you know are absolutely not right for each other and no one who knows them can understand why they are together.” He purposely wrote it to be a really weird match that didn’t make sense.

From Dream’s perspective, at this point in the story he has just had some of his biggest romantic disasters slapped in his face (at one point literally) all within a very short space of time for an entity as long lived as him. First Calliope, then Nada, and then Alianora, and he is hurting from all of them. Having to face his romantic failures one after another within the space of a few years AFTER having to go through 70 odd years of relentless suffering trapped in a glass prison has GOT to mess with your head. So I think Thessaly is basically the worst rebound in history. They are only canonically together for a few weeks but he somehow falls head over heels for this plain, dull, horrible person. 100% this is a rebound. He’s messed up. So yeah, I kinda get it.

From Thessaly’s perspective it seems she just really liked the idea of being the object of someones attention and desire even though she never returned his feelings and left him the minute he stopped devoting all his attention to her (god she really is a bitch).

So why don’t I think this will work in the show?

Because the show is a kinder universe than the comic. Dream is different in the show. He is already more thoughtful, warm, compassionate, and has a better self awareness when it comes to his shortcomings. He’s also a far more romantic character in the show, which is probably thanks to Tom Sturridge’s excellent performance and likeability and absolutely maddening sexual chemistry with literally every character he interacts with (his pretty face doesn’t hurt either). You just have to look at his scenes with Calliope to know that they are playing up the romance and kindness there when in the comics Dream is extremely cold to Calliope throughout their very short interactions.

Given the news that the writing team on Game of You will include trans writers specifically to cover the sensitivities of honouring Wanda, I don’t know how they will adapt the transphobia she suffers at Thessaly’s hand, or whether they will include that at all - personally I think they should remove it. Not to make Thessaly more likeable, but because it reinforces a really wrong view of witchcraft and magick that modern witches and pagans are working extremely hard to reject. Not to get too deep into these topics, but transphobia is a fucking plague in those communities and the last thing we need is more people thinking everyone who practices witchcraft is a fucking TERF. The comic even goes so far as to imply the actual MOON is transphobic. Like WTF? The moon isn’t fucking transphobic and “womb magic” is stupid. If I ever have to read the words “divine feminine” in a witchcraft FB group again I’m gonna scream.

Anyway my point is that I don’t think those scenes in the comic are necessary and there are plenty of other ways to adapt that story without resorting to transphobia.

The other issue is that if they do keep it in, they somehow have to deal with the fact that their protagonist is seemingly totally cool with dating a transphobic murderous bitch. Um. Yeah, not cool Dream. I think the show is going to do everything it can to make Dream MORE likeable and based on what we have seen so far I definitely think that’s the route they are taking.

So yeah Dream won’t be falling in love with a TERF in the show, that I am sure of.

The thing is, the best way they can deal with the Thessaly problem is also the simplest - Don’t include her. Just don’t write her into the show. Simples.

Because we already have a character in the show universe who technically doesn’t exist in comic canon, who knows magic and the occult, and who is MUCH more likeable and kind whilst still being a bit messy and selfish and totally a terrible match for Dream... Oh, and who also happens to be played by possibly the most well known actor on the shows main cast list.

Johanna Constantine.

Jenna Coleman is a fairly big name and one of the primary stars for the show. At least Netflix seemed to think so since her face was all over the marketing and she was included in basically every cast interview, even though her character only turns up in 1 and a half episodes. She is also playing a new version of an already well known character in pop culture and I am convinced Netflix is already considering spin off options for her. So there is no way they aren’t going to include her in future episodes of the Sandman.

Except thats where Netflix has a problem if it wants to stick to comic canon. Lady Johanna Constantine only turns up in one more Sandman story, and John Constantine doesn’t show up again at all in the comics.

So my piece of speculation that I’m almost 90% certain will happen, is that they will bring back modern Johanna Constantine in an extended or adapted role based on another character.

My money is on Thessaly. Remove Thessaly, replace her with Johanna.

I’m not just saying this because I think Johanna and Morpheus hooking up will be hot (it will be, don’t deny it. My bisexual ass knows a hot couple when I see them). But because it makes sense.

Yeah okay we have that pesky little rule about the Endless not dating mortals - but that rule currently doesn’t exist in show canon either, so theres no reason why they can’t just also scrap that for the sake of some sexy, messy, and definitely disastrous bi4bi action.

All jokes aside, with only a few tweaks to the story in a Game of You, you could seemlessly fit Johanna into it. She can be in New York for a specific case, hell, maybe Barbie and the sudden appearance of Martin Tenbones on a busy New York street IS the case she’s investigating? She can still find a way to break Hazel and Foxglove into the Dreaming AND when Morpheus shows up they can have another tantalising showdown like they did in episode 3. It works better with Johanna tbh. She actually cares about people, the motivation is there for her to want to save Barbie and protect people from supernatural sources. We can just make the storm and the collapse of the apartment block be caused by George or the cuckoo or something (or not have it happen at all since I am also practically certain that Wanda is NOT going to die in the show).

This ALSO means that much later on, when Lyta is having her breakdown and destroying the Dreaming, having Johanna being the one to protect her from Morpheus rather than Thessaly also adds a more human element to it. Morpheus has never been a killer, but sometimes his duties demand it. He goes to kill Lyta to prevent the Kindly Ones destroying the Dreaming. If it is Johanna blocking him instead of Thessaly, their motives align. Johanna would protect Lyta for the simple fact that she won’t let a supernatural creature harm a human (as much as she can - sorry Kevin), and Morpheus, being hesitant about killing anyway, would be easily talked out of it by Johanna. “Find another way to save the Dreaming, I won’t let you harm her.”

It just adds an emotional weight that isn’t there with Thessaly, who only protects Lyta because she made a deal with the Kindly Ones in exchange for more centuries of life - an ironic request when Morpheus (and Death) are keeping Hob Gadling alive simply so he can be Dream’s BFF.

It just works for me. Scrap the “no mortals” rule and you can have them have the messy disastrous relationship that doesn’t work out. It is far more believable that Johanna Constantine could break Dream’s heart - she’s already a known heartbreaker in the show (sorry Rachel). It’s a doomed love story a modern audience can get behind, makes sense, the actors already have insane sexual chemistry, and it could definitely hit all those story beats needed to get the show to a version of the Kindly Ones whilst also actively improving it.

I may first and foremost be a Dreamling shipper, but talking in terms of canon I very much want Morpheus to have a passionate short-lived heart breaking affair with Johanna. Fuck Thessaly. Keep her relegated to comic canon. Morphanna all the way.

And THAT is how we fix the problem with Thessaly.

[xbraveheartx]

WARNING !! Contains spoilers for Lies of P! If you haven't beaten the game, be warned! This is just a first draft !! I might change it... I might not. I'm just testing the waters and seeing how far I'll get. I think I'll just post the prologue for now and then proceed solo in google docs after. But I wanted to see how people are feeling about the idea ♡ I'll upload the rest most likely on AO3 A "I don't care what canon gave us, I'm bringing Romeo back" fic that'll end up in a romance between our favorite real boy and his bestie ♡ It takes place post-canon!

Prologue

The sun had barely risen when they set off on their mission, a gentle shower coating the city of Krat in sleek rain that took little time to drench every stone and tile. Only once they had reached their destination did the skies suddenly open, a hint of blue smiling down on the otherwise desolate buildings. One couldn’t avoid puddles under such conditions, but there wasn’t any true concern to be had over them.

There were far greater things to worry over. He only hoped they were still there.

“Jeepers. It sure is creepy being back here again.” Gemini chirped, effectively breaking the silence that blanketed Krat Central Station. “Now that the monsters aren’t as much of a problem, everything just feels kinda…” He trailed off, causing the boy’s head to turn just slightly in an effort to toss back a glance in the lamp’s direction. “... Spooky? Haunted is the word, maybe? Almost like something is hiding just around the corner, ready to just– Jump out at you!”

“You’re being dramatic.” Slender digits rose to tuck a long, grey lock behind an ear, palm rubbing a stray droplet of water from a freckled cheek.

“And you’re being careless, pal!” Gemini countered, ignoring the eye roll given in retaliation. “I’m just saying, even if we can’t see the monsters all around like we used to, I’m sure there’s bound to be some still lurking around! Just be more careful, okay, Carlo?”

There was a pause in his steps, the echo of the last dying out shortly after as nothing but the dripping of water and creaking of pipes met their ears.

Carlo… it was still strange, hearing that name, and while he felt it was just right, it felt strange in the same breath. It was familiar yet foreign; He was still learning.

He felt his heart beat.

“Did I say something wrong?” Came Gemini’s chirps once more, the sound coming off as one of concern. Carlo shook his head, lashes fluttering rapidly as he came back to himself whilst lips tugged into a slight smile.

“No, no. Sorry, just… Thinking.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie. Gemini seemed to accept the excuse regardless, trilling gently in a way that Carlo could just picture a real cricket practically vibrating with eagerness.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go! Er– b-but! … Y’know!... Carefully.” The guide seemed to beam, and Carlo couldn’t help but beam right back, hopeful that their journey would be fruitful in the end.

There, in the dimly lit station, was their target. Track C, train number three– The Blue Fairy. It was funny, looking back on it now, but there was no stopping to admire any form of happenstance. The train itself had been subjected to all manner of bile and questionable fluids, but otherwise, remained intact. The boy hesitated just before entering, hand rising to touch the door frame as he stood at the entrance and listened. When nothing but silence rose to greet him, he pressed onward, stepping over forgotten luggages and shattered glass.

“You really think something like this’ll work?” Gemini spoke again, chirps blending with the crunching of a wineglass underfoot.

There was no immediate response, not until they had made it to the back of the train where a familiar chair sat in the middle of the aisle. He stepped around it, choosing instead, to make his way into the hidden workshop behind.

“I don’t know.” Carlo confessed, fingers trailing across abandoned notes and papers left atop a messy desk. Blueprints were among the litter, notes bookmarking heavily written pages of journals, their fine leather covers worn and frayed. He gathered it all, leaving nothing he deemed important behind. One of many discarded suitcases was chosen among the piles, and with its original contents discarded, was used to house the very legacy his father had left behind. “But I have to try.”

Venigni thumbed through the blueprints, eyes roaming through Geppetto's old notes that had been laid out before him. It was a daunting task, to say the least, and they both knew it. 

"This is... beyond my field of expertise."

The moment of silence to follow after felt far too long, seconds seemingly to stretch into hours that didn't exist. Finally, the boy's lips parted, voice heavy with newly gained emotion that unashamedly manifested as a beg.

"I believe you can do it." Came the quiet encouragement, brows drawing together to further accentuate his plea. "Please?" Yet another pause followed after whilst muted blues fell for but a moment, until finally, they resettled on Venigni. "For... a friend?"

The sigh of defeat to follow the request said enough.

"I shall do what I can, but I make no promises, compagno!" As if a switch was flipped, suddenly a black gloved hand rose with a snap. “Pulcinella! Some fresh parchment, if you would! I must get started immediately! And you!” Once more did the man’s head snap in Carlo’s direction, a finger dramatically being pointed all the while. “You still carry the most important component, do you not? All that’s left is the body– Go and bring it back here. I will give it my all, for I am the Incredible Lorenzini Venigni, and I will settle for no less than my one-hundred percent!... But again, no promises.” 

The emotion to grip at his heart was almost overwhelming, the heavy THUD THUD of the organ pounding against his chest in a mixture of anticipation, joy, and above all else, hope.

“I’ll be back.” He announced with a nod, though he made no move to leave just yet. Instead, he gave the man a smile, brighter than any he had expressed in the past. “Thank you, Venigni. I appreciate your help.” The words were met with a nod and something akin to that of a mutter and a hum. Already was the other absorbed by the notes before him, ink meeting paper in rapid scribbles from the very moment Pulcinella had provided the writing tools.

“Let’s go get your pal… pal!” Gemini chimed in, spurring the boy into motion with a nod. “Leave the technical stuff to the professionals! Rosa Isabella Street awaits!” A trip that would surely be a bit more eventful than their visit to the train station, knowing full well that the puppets would still be prowling around their fallen king’s domain.  Please let this work… The silent prayer was sent skyward.

[heyiwrotesomethings]

hiii i came across your page a few months ago, and i really love the way you write these characters!

i was thinking, maybe a part 2 of “scholarships, mary saotome x she/her reader” where it basically goes into the plot of kakegurui twin and the beginning of the canon-verse?

i could imagine the reader and mary becoming friends, though a slight slow burn romance that forms along the way.

Scholarships Prt II

Mary Saotome x She/Her Reader

A/N: PrtI It’s finally done! You’d think revisiting five chapters of manga wouldn’t be that draining, but it took quite a bit of back and forth to get the important bits. Sorry for the wait, hope you enjoy : ) Word Count: 3,371

“What the hell is this?” Mary deadpanned, looking around the heavily crowded room.

From day one of getting into this school it felt like she slipped out of the frying pan and right into the fire. It took everything she had just to stay out of owing someone an insane amount of money. From gambling Kokoro, to joining the Literary Club, and now being mixed up in Student Council and Full Bloom Society affairs. It felt like they could never catch a break, and if they did, it certainly never lasted. Which was what brought them to where they were now, a speed dating, coupling party gamble.

“Coupling…?” Tsuzura placed a hand over her mouth.

“You got to be kidding me!” Yukimi gawked, “How can you go out with a guy you don’t even know?!”

“Right? Is it too late to back out?” (Y/n) asked, even though she already knew the answer.

“Of course we can’t back out.” Mary groaned. “What the hell did Aoi get us into?”

“Hello.”

“Gah!”

Mary put a hand to her heart, (Y/n) put a hand on her back to help steady her.

“Mikura? What are you doing here?” Mary asked.

“Looking for a boyfriend?” (Y/n) guessed.

“Ugh, no. Gross.” Mikura shuddered, “I’m here on school business. This is Juraku-sama’s event.”

“Of course it is,” (Y/n) sighed, “Can’t escape the council for a minute.”

“Anyway,” Mikura looked down at her clipboard, “there are only four of you, correct? I’ll have to introduce you to a fifth. It looks like Chitose would be an easy addition.”

“Hi, that would be me!”

The Literary Club peered around Mikura to the new addition to their group, a girl with a pin-straight bob. She looked friendly enough at least.

“I’ll leave you to get acquainted. The game will begin shortly.” Mikura took her leave and Chitose took the floor.

“Is this all your first time at this event?”

“Yeah, how does this work exactly?” Yukimi asked.

Chitose explained the premise excitedly. Basically, if they matched with a boy, they would have to pay out. If they didn’t match, the boys would have to pay out. Seemed simple enough.

“So, are you guys playing for love, or money?” Chitose asked excitedly.

“The money.” All four girls replied in near perfect unison, causing Chitose’s shoulders to slump.

“Fine…” she sighed, “Let’s get this over with.”

Chitose lead them to the group of boys they had been paired with for the game and the MC for the event a announced the start of the chat period.

Kuonji, Sera, Kochi, Musubi and Kibashira introduced themselves, soon giving the floor to the girls to do the same. Chitose really hammed up her introduction, so much so it was hard to tell if she was acting or not.

Mary decided to talk about running the Literary Club’s gambling den, a safe option, she figured.

“That’s gotta be tough,” Kibashiba acknowledged with a low whistle, “You must like quick-witted guys then, huh?”

“No, not really…”

“Oh, then what kind of guy do you like?”

“Um…” Mary was going to bullshit the boy, say something shallow, but she happened to notice (Y/n) move in her periphery, sifting her position a little, probably in an attempt to be a bit more comfortable during this awkward game. As her thoughts were drawn to (Y/n), her answer morphed.

“Maybe someone honest?” Her face warmed. Why did I tell him the truth?! She fretted internally as Musubi jumped in to ask Tsuzura questions, swooning over the girl’s ability to cook and sew.

“And what about you, (Y/n)-san?” Kochi piped in, “What do you like in a guy?”

Mary’s ears perked and she glanced at (Y/n) through her periphery.

“Well,” (Y/n) rubbed the back of her neck, “I guess I’d like someone who doesn’t leave the people that care about them behind. Someone loyal.”

Mary wasn’t completely aware of it, but her heart skipped a beat. A small, almost victorious-looking smile appeared on her face.

The chat session wrapped up soon after Yukimi’s introduction and the two groups parted ways momentarily for the group discussion period.

“So, about the rules…” Mary began once they were in their own little corner of the room, “A wager wasn’t mentioned, so how does that work exactly?”

“It was on the entry form, didn’t you read it?” Chitose asked.

“We got a separate invite.” Mary explained.

“Ah, well, it’s a million yen per bet.”

The group stiffened. A million yen?! For speed dating?! Aoi was throwing them out to the deep end with this gamble.

“We’ll have to use the dine out discount.” Yukimi said after doing a bit of quick mental math. “It’ll be just enough to cover the cost.”

“What if we just went straight for the sleepover?” Tsuzura asked much too casually.

“Huh?!?!”

“Tsuzura?!”

“What?!”

“It’ll help us save money, right? And if we’re all in the same room, won’t that be super fun?” She gushed, “I haven’t had a sleepover since elementary school!”

“Are you for real right now?” Mary sighed, resting her face against her open palm.

“Oh my sweet summer child…” (Y/n) said sympathetically, not really wanting to burst Tsuzura’s bubble.

Yukimi couldn’t sit by and let the poor girl live in ignorance and whispered what the wager would really mean. (Y/n) and Mary watched in real time as Tsuzura’s face morph from cheerful to frazzled embarrassment in a matter of seconds.

“She really had no idea, huh?” Mary shook her head.

“Poor girl.” (Y/n) concurred.

“Anyway…” Mary cleared her throat, “I think it’ll be in our best interest to avoid making couples in order to make the most money we can. So that means we should all pick different guys to keep the matches down to a minimum. We can do a random draw to decide who “confesses” to who, but I think it’ll be best to make sure Tsuzura doesn’t get matched with Musubi.”

“Yeah, he definitely has a thing for her.” Yukimi chuckled awkwardly while (Y/n) was still trying to calm the girl down after the whole “sleepover” misunderstanding.

“Any other ideas?” Mary asked.

Chitose eagerly rose her hand, hoping to be paired with Kuonji and getting all blush and lovestruck just thinking about the prospect.

Mary shared a look with (Y/n) who shrugged her shoulders.

“Uh… yeah, sure.” Mary jolted the note down and then turned the paper around, showing how the “confessions” should work out. “Anyone got a problem with this set-up?”

“Nope.” The rest agreed.

As they began walking back to their table, Mary pinched the fabric of (Y/n)‘s jacket to keep her back.

“(Y/n),” she spoke in a low tone, “the two of us will switch confession targets.”

“Huh, why?”

“There is one flaw with this plan, that being spreading out like this could lead to trouble if there is a mole in our group.”

“A mole?” (Y/n) repeated in a harsh whisper. “You think someone could be working with the guys?”

“Exactly.”

“Then it would clearly be Chitose, wouldn’t it? Shouldn’t we let Tsuzura and Yuikimi-senpai in on the plan too?”

Mary shook her head, “I don’t trust Yuikimi-san yet and I don’t want to stress Tsuzura out.”

“I don’t think it’s necessary to exclude her. She can handle it.“ (Y/n) tried to dissuade.

“We can’t hesitate now. If we want to win, we have to consider every possibility.” Mary stuck to her guns, getting closer and resting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “We’re going to come out on top, we’re going to be the winners! We’re going to show these rich bastards what for, right?” She gave her a confident smile that made (Y/n)’s heart speed up.

“Right!” (Y/n) nodded resolutely, matching Mary’s competitive smile.

“Then let’s win this so we can rub it in Aoi’s face.”

The duo rejoined their group and all circled their agreed upon targets on the submission forms, except for Mary and (Y/n) of course who switched their targets, making Mary’s target Kibashira and (Y/n)’s Sera. After everything was squared away, they all sat across the table from the boys, each offering up a dinning out bonus to meet the betting requirements. They each confessed to their targets and there was a bit of an upset when Yuikimi and Tsuzura heard that Mary and (Y/n) switched targets, but that was nothing compared to the upset that occurred when it was the boys’ turn to reciprocate or reject… that’s when things started to get messy.

One after the other, instead of falling through, the couplings were perfect matches. Though unfortunate, it was exactly what Mary had anticipated. What she hadn’t anticipated however, was for her and (Y/n)’s targets to match them as well.

“No…” (Y/n) sunk in her chair, joining Yuikimi and Tsuzura’s anxious expressions. “It’s impossible. Everyone?”

“Congratulations.” Mikura drawled, “Five couples have been formed.”

“Bullshit!” Mary stood, slamming her palms against the table, “This is all a fraud! We couldn’t have all coupled by chance! Even if one of us was tipping the guys off, (Y/n) and I switched to avoid just this scenario!” She yelled at Miruka. “You rigged it! Wouldn’t be the first time—“

“Is there a problem, Mary?”

Juraku Sachiko sidled up to the table, compelling Mary to grind her teeth together, eyes blazing with fury.

“Of course there is! You rigged this game!”

“Such baseless accusations.” Sachiko smirked. “We aren’t rigging anything. I can guarantee you that.”

“Do you really think I’d believe that!” Mary sneered.

In a second, Sachiko was looking over her with a devilish smile.

“Oh Mary, there is a far more simpler possibility, don’t you think? Surely you aren’t that incompetent?”

Another… possibility… Mary’s mind whirred with possibilities. The student council, Aoi and the Full Bloom Society… but then her eye caught (Y/n) helping Tsuzura dry her tears and her chest tightened.

No… was (Y/n) the traitor? Couldn’t be… they were fellow scholarship students united in their second class status to the high society high rollers, more than that, they were friends. They had triumphed and lost together time after time they always had each other’s backs. They had made plans to be winners, to be respected… but had those boys offered (Y/n) something better? Something so good that she would send Mary and the others floating down the river without blinking?

Her heart physically hurt, she had pegged (Y/n) as a honest person, someone to confide in. She was the only person she had trusted with this plan so logically… it had to be her. Mary clenched her fists. (Y/n) was the mole!

Meanwhile, (Y/n) was having her own similar crisis, believing that Mary had cut her own deal. Mary had left her behind… she wasn’t loyal at all! She could feel angry and disappointed tears stung at her own eyes, but she kept them at bay and continued tending to Tsuzura.

“Round two is fast approaching ladies, what will you do?” Sachiko smirked, tapping her chin. “You already blew the money Aoi gave you. If you don’t think of something quick, you’ll all be house pets.”

Mary paled. “But 2 million yen…” They didn’t have that kind of money just laying around… suddenly they were approached by someone in the crowd who introduced herself as Kurumi.

“I don’t mind spotting you all 200,000 yen, but as for the rest… if you bet on the sleepover that should cover it.” She smirked.

“That should work just fine.” Sachiko purred.

“Mary?” Tsuzura sniffled. “What should we do?”

(Y/n) looked a Mary with an impassive expression that further irked and pained Mary. Likewise, the hot fury Mary aimed (Y/n)’s way made her feel even more numb. Though divided, they shared the exact same thought.

Who were they supposed to believe in?

“Mary?” Tsuzura pulled Mary from her thoughts with a cautious calling of her name, “We’re doing round two, right? Applications are closing soon, so we should hurry.”

“I need a minute to think.” Mary murmured distantly.

“But we’re out of money, so we’ll have to join, right? I’ll sign us both up—“

“I told you to wait!” Mary yelled, causing Tsuzura to flinch.

“Hey, you can’t talk to her like that!” (Y/n) yelled back.

“As if you care about any of our feelings!” Mary hissed, striding closer to (Y/n) with a sneer, “how about you do me a favor and stop pretending that you’re on my side!”

“Oh, that’s really rich coming from you! You’re really going to keep up this charade until you believe it too? I hope your guilty conscious eats you alive!”

“Guys… what’s going on?” Tsuzura whimpered, not sure who to go to.

“I’m not joining the second round.” Mary coldly informed. “Don’t try to rely on me anymore.” She started to walk away, but (Y/n) called after her.

“That’s it? Now that we’re all in danger of being house pets, you’re going to walk away?” (Y/n) felt even more convinced of Mary’s betrayal now.

“I thought we were all going to be winners together.” Tsuzura said softly, clutching her hands to her chest.

“What will happen to our gambling room?” Yukimi added.

“Figure it out yourselves.”

“I can’t believe you!” (Y/n) spoke through gritted teeth.

“The Mary I know wouldn’t give up just because she thought a friend betrayed her.” Tsuzura sniffled. “You’re strong and dedicated and never give up. You always win in the end, so please, don’t give up!”

“Don’t waste your breath, Tsuzura.” (Y/n) wrapped an arm around her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her whilst glaring at Mary. “We can figure it out on our own. It’ll be easier without her betraying us.”

Something about the dead serious delivery and the pure disgust in (Y/n)’s eyes caused Mary to have an epiphany. Another possibility… she wasn’t committed to trusting them again just yet. As far as she was concerned, the only person she could trust was herself. That didn’t mean she couldn’t manipulate them to play the roles she needed them to play.

“Fine, I’ll play.”

“Mary!” Tsuzura looked relieved until Mary stared them down.

“I won’t lose just because one of you stabbed me in the back. I’ll teach you all a lesson you’ll never forget.”

“Right back at you!” (Y/n) shot back.

Mary ended up taking the lead of the group and left (Y/n) on the outs, though it didn’t seem she was letting anyone else in on everything she was planning either. As mad as (Y/n) was at Mary however, it still hurt when she lead the group away from her to discuss turn order and confession targets.

(Y/n) motioned Yuikimi and Tsuzura to join Mary and Chitose, assuring them that she’d be fine on her own. She trusted them to find a way to tell her if something went awry. She took a deep breath, and brainstormed her own course of action.

Before long, they were all seated at the table again, each offering up the sleepover option to cover their lost wagers. (Y/n) and Mary studiously ignored each other as the set up occurred, but when the last person was seated, Mary spoke up, leaning over so she could look at (Y/n) who sat on the other side of Tsuzura and Yukimi.

“Hey,” she said gruffly, “I just want to say, I don’t care what you do. Just know that we are going to be the winners, got it?”

(Y/n) wanted to say something snarky in return, but something about the way Mary’s inflection changed slightly when she said ‘we’ gave (Y/n) pause.

“Only one way to find out.” She grumbled. “Let’s get this over with.”

Chitose confessed first, matching with Sera. Then it was (Y/n)’s turn. Really it was a one in five shot that she picked wrong. She assumed Mary still wanted everyone to stick to one target to minimize matches. So if there was a mole, she shouldn’t have to worry about multiple guys targeting her.

“Here goes nothing,” she audibly exhaled, “I’ll confess to Musubi-san.”

The boys looked disappointed, but didn’t seem too heartbroken, like they expected it wouldn’t be likely that they would have a match with her, but then it was Yukimi’s turn and when she said she would be confessing to Kibashira, it caused an uproar as if they expected a different answer. Then Tsuzura upset the boy’s expectations even further by also confessing to Musubi. Then finally, it was Mary’s turn.

“Musubi-san,” she smirked, “you’re getting rather popular, huh? That makes me a little jealous because,” she presented her paper for all to see, “I picked you too.”

“There is only one successful coupling.” Miruka observed. “Congratulations, Sera-san and Inui-san.”

(Y/n) took a breath of relief and after a moment, Mary started snickering.

“You guys are so dumb, you know that?” She asked pointedly to the boys and Chitose. “I knew you were the mole, Inui-san. Once I took the time to actually think about it, it was the only thing that made sense.”

Sh got up from her seat and walked over to (Y/n), placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I should have realized right away. (Y/n) wouldn’t betray me like that and I owe her a big apology. I was being a narrow-minded idiot.”

“Mary…” (Y/n)’s hand moved to rest atop Mary’s, “I’m sorry too. You’ve never turned your back on us before, so why start now? We were both being dumb.”

“We were… but we managed to course correct and it’s thanks to these idiots,” she sweeps her hand over to the boys and Chitose still looking angry and shocked, “that we just made a damn fortune! Thanks sooo much!” She teased.

“Enough jeering.” Miruka sighed, “The second round has concluded. All arrangements of wagers will be dealt with promptly.”

Once everything was squared away, the four friends left the event hall, exhausted but satisfied that they had won out in the end.

“Hey guys…” Mary stopped walking, making the other three turn around, “I just wanted to apologize for how I acted today. I suspected you all in one way or another even though you guys have never given me a reason to doubt you in the past.” She bowed at the waist, “I’m really sorry.”

“Hey, it’s alright. I probably would have though the same thing.” Yukimi said.

“Mary!” Tsuzura hugged her, “I was so afraid! I thought you had given up on us!”

“It was pretty rough, but I think we’re a much stronger team now.” (Y/n) simpered.

“I promise I’ll never doubt you guys again.”

“Alright, give me some room, Tsuzura. I want in on this too.” (Y/n) worked her way into the hug, making Mary blush.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

“You never give out hugs. Have to take advantage when I can!” (Y/n) teased, hugging Mary tighter and enjoying every second of it. “Right, Tsuzura?”

“Mhm! Yukimi, come join!”

“Alright!” Yukimi joined in on the hug, making Mary more exasperated.

“Hey! You guys! Come on!” Mary flustered, “You guys?!”

***

The only sound was the clatter and clink of silverware.

Though they had won when it mattered most, they still owed the boys a dinner date. No one was particularly excited, but free food was free food to Mary and (Y/n).

“Alright, well, I’m full.” Mary stood once she finished her plate.

“Me too, thanks for the meal.” (Y/n) stood as well, followed shortly by Yukimi and Tsuzura.

Tired from the intense gamble the day before, it was pretty much a given that they would all go to their respective homes to rest and enjoy the rest of their weekend without any other obligations. (Y/n) and Mary waved goodbye to the others as their bus pulled away from the curb.

“Hey,” Mary spoke once the bus started rolling down the street, “want to see a movie or something?”

(Y/n) felt her heart flutter a bit. “Sounds fun. We should have asked Yukimi-senpai and Tsuzura if they wanted to come.”

“They can tag along another time. We don’t have to do everything together all the time.” She rolled her eyes and looked out the window. “So, what movie do you want to see?” She mumbled.

(Y/n) leaned her shoulder against Mary’s. “I don’t know,” she smiled, “we’ll have to see what’s playing when we get there.”

[daitranscripts]

Hi! I really love the project and all the work you've been doing so far. <3 I wanted to ask if you knew what Leliana's HoF dialogue is if you defiled the ashes but she's still alive and if it changes at all if she's romanced with doing the same? I'm not sure if it's possible in-game but Keep allows that worldstate. I would assume it's the typical "trusted friend" and "my love", but I was curious.

Hello! This is actually my canon world-state, and it is possible in game. If Leliana is with you when you defile the Ashes, you can either kill her or intimidate her. Intimidation does not end the romance - it only lowers approval (that can be regained with gifts!). If she is not in the party at the Temple, when you return to camp she will either leave or be persuaded to stay (I think the Warden can lie to her? I'm hazy on the details).

The DA:I romance dialogue only requires the plot flag of "Leliana romanced" to be true, and "Leliana died" to be false. When you ask her about the Hero of Ferelden, she has 6 possible responses:

romanced, Warden died (and Leliana was not killed by the Warden) We were in love. Even in the midst of all the chaos, I was happy. Truly happy. And then [they]… I’m sorry, I’d rather not talk about this. ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

romanced, Warden alive (and Leliana was not killed by the Warden) [They are] always in my thoughts, even when we’re far apart. My love is on a quest of [their] own. When the Inquisition has no further need of me, I will join [them]. For good, this time. I have lost enough. I will not lose [them] as well. ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

killed by the Warden The “Hero of Ferelden.” (Laughs.) There are no heroes in real life, just people. And people can do terrible things. Like striking me down, for example. It’s hard not to bear a grudge. ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

left the party due to low approval/crisis The Hero of Ferelden was not what I expected. We traveled together in the early days of the Blight, but joining was a mistake. We never got along. I was young and had silly ideas. ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

any other approval level, Warden died I had the privilege of calling [them] “friend” before [they] died. The world seemed much duller after that. It still does. ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

any other approval level, Warden alive I count her among my closest friends. She’s probably the only person I trust completely. I haven’t heard from her in some time. She just… disappeared. I try not to think of what might have happened. or I count him among my closest friends. I still write to him for advice when I can. He hasn’t replied to my letters in some time. I try not to worry about it. He can take care of himself.

Interestingly, the plot flag ID for "Leliana died" is not the same as "Leliana was killed at the Urn." Using the plot flag editor, there are two different flags for her death:

Did the Warden kill Leliana after destroying the Sacred Ashes? - Did the Warden kill Leliana after a crisis unrelated to the Urn of Sacred Ashes?

Both of these plot flags are found in in the DA:I files, but her conversations with the Herald/Inquisitor about dying at the Temple of Sacred Ashes use the flag for "Did the Warden kill Leliana after a crisis unrelated to the Urn of Sacred Ashes?", and not the one that is... actually about the Ashes. I don't actually know if it's possible to kill her in any other way in DA:O, honestly.

Hope this helps :)

Edit: Sorry looking back at the question, I never really answered. If you defile the Ashes and do not kill Leliana, the game will go based off the romance/approval flag - DA:I doesn't read the "Warden defiled the ashes" flag, only Leliana's fate.

[renaultphile]

TC tag game

Thank you for the questions and for tagging me @spudodell.

Rules: Answer the questions and tag other TC fans!

1. "He would not fucking say that" only they did and it's canon. When/who?

Ralph to Laurie in the ‘break-up’ scene, as soon as Laurie starts asserting himself:

"Don't waste time, Spud. It's childish to start an argument about whether we love each other, the moment I go and sit on the other side of the room”

What a horrible thing to say!  Run like the wind, Laurie!

2. Did they kiss in the study? Yes/no + why you are 100% correct about this.

First let’s take a moment to appreciate Spudodell's recent spot of a stealth kiss (can you re-blog that one too, I couldn't find it!) at the beginning of the ‘break-up’ scene when Laurie comes through the door, which to me is absolutely definitive and ground-breaking (not in a good way for me, but still….brilliant detective work!)

On the kiss, I am in the ‘no kiss’ camp, but it is not possible to be definitive.  I feel that Mary plays a lot with echoes, parallels, and contrasts, and for me ultimately I feel the lack of a kiss is meant to be a contrast to other moments in the book, not an echo. 

But what has exercised me more recently is, kiss or no kiss (but especially if there was a kiss), this scene in chapter two really gives me the creeps.  I have been reading around the topic for some schoolboy Ralph fics and Alec/Ralph (watch this space on that one), and it has become ever more clear (Alec Waugh’s commentary ‘Public School Life’ being the best reference on this) that Prefects really were like Gods.  He points out that prefects had almost as much power as but even less accountability than teachers due to the ‘no-snitch rule’.  You can see it in the discussion of Hazell and his confessions, and how contemptuous the schoolboys are of him for 'confessing' (or in modern terms, reporting an inappropriate relationship).

In some ways, a kiss could explain quite a lot about Laurie’s behaviour and attitudes to Ralph in the book.  But to be brutally honest, I’ve had enough of creepy behaviour in men being disguised as ‘romantic’ in heterosexual romances (Mr Rochester, anyone?) and the thought of encountering it in a gay context in such a beloved book is just too much to bear.

So, no kiss for me!  He was still behaving pretty weirdly but that’s understandable in the circumstances.

3. Mandatory question about Ralph's alleged tattoos.

I’m sold on the fic that has him get a tattoo of his sunken ship.  Love the co-ordinates of Dunkirk idea though!  But I think Lux’s one is more realistic.  My reading of that being that he got drunk and wanted to fit in so he got a load of random not-very-good-ones.

4. 53 vs 59 edition: quote a line or paragraph that is better in the edition you like the least.

I favour the ’59 edition, as I broadly feel the cuts make it read better.  But there is one exception.  When Laurie is daydreaming about swimming with Charles, Mary cuts this line:

“Take off your things and jump in."

Apparently skinny-dipping was a step too far for the US audience!  Scandalous!

5. Which TC character would feel right at home here on tumblr dot com?

Bunny but not in a good way.

6. Tag yourself at Alec's birthday party.

I’m Laurie as in sitting in the corner checking out the books.  Not as in going on a rescue mission with some drunken guy.

7. Post a TC meme.

Sorry I couldn’t find the source of this – not exactly a meme but it made me laugh!

8. Easy to talk about who deserved better. Who deserved worse?

Not that I know what happened to them, but Andrew’s relatives who tried as hard as they could to ruin his life, as if his parents dying wasn't bad enough.

9. You can break the fourth wall (at any point in the novel) and say a single sentence to our protagonist, Laurie Odell. What do you say?

I would tell him not to let Dave bully him into leaving Andrew without seeing him.  Because he knows with every fibre of his being that Andrew would not want that.

10. What's a question you have about TC? One you haven't found an answer for yet.

Too many to say.  It’s the unknown unknowns that really get me.

Tagging @gayskogul @telltaleangelina @jeork @alovelywaytospendanevening @black-bentley and anyone else who wants to play and would like to raise their head above the parapet!!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi! I really love and appreciate your analyses work because I find it so rare to come across these days. Most content about TWST I found is either about in-game stuff or fics of various genres and AUs. It's refreshing in a way, and I just want to tell you that I absolutely adore your work.

I just read your analysis of Cater in canon and how romance comes into play, and I couldn't stop thinking about something when you mentioned how he lights up after taking pictures. Since Cater moves around a lot due to his father's work, I think the pictures immortalize whatever connections he had regardless of how long he got to stay in the area before he eventually moves away with his family.

Aside from Magicam and pictures being his coping mechanisms, it's what little Cater has to connections and relationships even if he distances himself due to his fear of rejection and of being forgotten. I only know bits and pieces of Cater in-game because I don't have many cards of him, but the little I do know of him made me think that he would take pictures to keep memories that would be forgotten once distance and time come to pass. He yearns for deep relationships similar to Riddle and Trey's friendship, but he's so afraid of what comes with such a sentiment that he would resort to pictures and a memorable, public image to keep everyone out of arms' reach.

Even if the people he was friends with (prior to moving away) forget him and move on with life, Cater would have his Magicam account and the pictures. He'd find solace in the memoirs he had taken himself, whether it was just a day inside the Heartslabyul dorm or something as grand as Beansfest. He also takes pictures of the latest trends such as the newest cafe or dessert in town, maybe even a once-in-a-lifetime traveling circus if that's a thing in TWST. Those trends are probably his gateways to finding people with similar interests (I'm using similar doubtfully because Cater does craft his personas so well that he might as well be a pseudo-INFJ) aside from meeting a Magicam influencer quota.

I believe Cater cherishes pictures this way aside from maintaining an image and switching personas in order to be liked and remembered—because those are the closest things that could resemble deep and close relationships to him without compromising his fear.

I may be wrong though, so feel free to correct me! I did say I don't have many cards of Cater so I'm not entirely sure if my speculation is justifiable or otherwise. I'm so sorry this ask became so long 😭 Cater is such an interesting character to analyze, and he's not even in my top 5 personal favorites. I hope you have a nice day!!

[Referencing this masterlist!]

Hello, I’m glad that you enjoy my works! ^^ I kind of do some of everything, but analyses are a big passion of mine. I’m happy that they’re being appreciated since they often take me a lot of time and effort to put together.

Ah, that must be in one of my older analyses, so it’s probably suuuuper outdated by now 😅 Mmmm, I do think it’s generally accepted that Cater desires deep and genuine connections like what Riddle and Trey have (but is too scared to open up to others). However, I don’t know if he actually places a ton of value in the pictures he takes. In my initial post, I meant to imply that Cater likes taking pictures because of the inherent clout that he can rake in from it, not that he necessarily attaches precious memories to those pictures.

Cater may use social media as a coping mechanism, but he also uses it to project what is knowingly a manufactured image of himself and his life out into the world. He takes so many pictures and posts so frequently (and not all of them are associated with doing things with friends; a lot of them appear to be selfies); it’s debatable whether it’s all just for show to feed the social media algorithm/his need for online validation or if he actually cherishes each and every photo (and thus the memories associated with them).

Social media is a means for him to find stability because the internet provides him with a way to keep in touch with everyone no matter where he physically is. However, social media also promotes an environment in which you’re encouraged to put your “best face” out there, to get the most attention and social approval (likes, shares, etc.). In heavily relying on social media for his socialization, it has probably fostered some of Cater’s currently observed insecurities (ie the fear of rejection or being seen as vulnerable if people learn about the not-so-perfect parts of him that he keeps off of Magicam—because what is social media if not a carefully curated photo album of all your “best” moments?).

How Cater engages with others online actually isn’t detailed often; whenever he mentions his socials, it’s almost always in the context of posting something or tagging someone. It sounds very “one way” and passive; Cater seems to be posting more than actually interacting with others or having extended dialogues. We see in his Robes vignettes that he likes comments, but the way he speaks about them makes it sound like he has to like back as an obligation to thank a particular user for the engagement. He confirms in his latest JP birthday interview that he’s always thinking of new places and things to post, but he doesn’t say his motivation is to make friends, he says it’s to get likes. Even when he’s by himself and doesn’t have to put on a show for anyone else (ie post-party in his Ceremonial Robes vignettes), Cater is concerned about getting likes. He presents his intentions as very shallow ones (whether you think he’s a reliable narrator or not is another question though 😂).

Cater also mentions using horoscopes as ice-breakers, which gives him a chance to show his social intelligence and skill at making people feel comfortable talking to him. I don’t think he’s really intending to find people with similar interests or actively going out of his way to try and make new friends; when Cater approaches someone, he usually wants something from them and he knows how to use his cheery and laidback demeanor to do it (ie he asks Malleus for a photo of him in Malleus’s PE Uniform vignettes, he gets cozy with Adeuce to get them to do his chores for him in the main story episode 1, he talks about using the freshmen for “good material” for his Magicam in his Robes vignettes, he consistently asks Vil to collab or take pics with him so he can get some of Vil’s clout, etc.). Cater uses his amicability to get others to lower their guards and play along with him. Then you have Trey, whom we know Cater likes and has said before that he wishes he had “someone like Trey” in his youth. It’s clear that Cater wants to be Trey’s friend, but this isn’t reflected in Cater’s behavior. He doesn’t go out of his way to try talking to Trey or inviting him to hang out; he seems to spend more time with his club friends Lilia and Kalim, but even then, they mostly get up to shallow activities like sitting around, eating snacks, and talking. Cater doesn’t push beyond that boundary, and the limitations of his own comfort. Likewise, we don’t really know of instances when he made efforts to befriend people online or via his socials.

Cater has a conversation specifically on the topic of memories, experiences, and departures in Silver’s Halloween vignettes. In it, Silver talks about how once he graduates, he won’t be able to visit his school friends like Kalim anymore and how that will make him feel lonely. Cater says that while he could worry that “I might not see you guys again someday”, he could also just as easily decide to have a good time with his friends while he still can. “That way, I’ll always have the memories”. Notice his use of “I” rather than “you”, referring to Silver. Cater may be speaking vaguely about his own experiences moving around and leaving friends behind. If we accept this interaction at face value, it does seem to imply that Cater puts value in making real connections and spending time with his loved ones, without necessarily having to immortalize the moment in a picture. It is the memories he cherishes—so while it can be said that he may place more value in pictures associated with certain happy moments, it’s also true that he's capable of just enjoying himself and appreciating what he has without commemorating the event with a photo.

dbksbskwwb Anyway, it’s hard to say for sure just how much Cater cares about those individual pictures just because 1) he’s an unreliable narrator, 2) you really wonder if he has more selfish reasons for acting as he does sometimes because he has demonstrated the capacity to manipulate others, and 3) his best memories don't always come with pictures. This doesn’t mean Cater is heartless or a bad person! I definitely think it’s possible he has some kind of attachment toward his pictures, since those are the closest approximation Cater has for the intimacy that he seeks without leaving him vulnerable to others. It’s just that I’m not sure if he places as much value in the pictures he takes as we may think he does. He has other motivations mixed in there, and it's possible to isolate Cater's feelings attached to happy memories from the pictures.

P.S. Just so you know, you don’t necessarily need Cater’s (or any character’s) cards to learn more about him; sometimes Cater lore is dropped in other peoples’ vignettes and event stories. Additionally, you can almost always find a source for his vignettes online by either Googling it or just accessing the unofficial Twisted Wonderland wiki.