#to cast someone we saw for one scene

[oepionie]

— "HE'S THE OTHER MAN!" . the corpse groom

SYNOPSIS: A ghost groom has claimed MC as his unwilling bride. Unfortunately for him, she's already got a lover

⊹ [ c.w ] — violence, possessive behavior, malleus blows a fucking green laser down ramshackle, mentions of blood, yuu is poor but we alrdy knew that, papa crewel crumbs

⊹ [ w.c ] — 1.6k opening post with malleus! if this gets enough attention, I might do more :P

"You what?" Crewel seethed, eyes wide as an unsettling smile stretched across the red of his cheeks.

"Repeat that."

"I…I accidentally released that ghost from the spellbook," Grim sobbed, his glossy eyes reflecting both fear and guilt as he looked up at the imposing figure of the professor. "And he's taken my henchhuman as his bride!"

Oh, Great Sevens. Not again.

Crewel groaned, his hands reaching up to frantically rub at his burning eyes. The flickering candlelight cast erratic shadows across his face.

"Please, do tell. How in Wonderland did someone with your lackluster skills manage to—" The professor was abruptly cut off by a loud, almost obnoxious cry that echoed from the doorway. Turning sharply, Crewel saw Crowley hunched against the entrance frame, hysterically sobbing into his palms. Fat tears dripped beneath his ornate mask, glistening in the low light. "They grow up so fast! My dear child is already getting married!"

Crewel's eye twitched as he took in the scene: Grim shaking like a leaf, and Crowley, dramatically weeping, pathetically looking to him for a solution.

"Fools," Crewel snarled, striding out of the room as he fished his phone from his coat pocket. "If you two won't be of use, then I'll have to enlist the help of those mutts instead."

The day had started like any other in Ramshackle, but you certainly didn't expect it to end with a wedding. Surrounded by the ghostly residents of the dorm, you stood dressed in all white, a bouquet clutched in your hand. Curling in yourself, you sighed and rested your head in your hands, avoiding everyone's gazes which felt like icy needles on your skin.

Ramshackle's old lounge, with its worn-out floorboards and faded wallpaper, was the chosen venue for your ceremony. Whispers rustled through the gathering, carried on a faint breeze that stirred the dust motes in the dim light. Somewhere in the background, the somber notes of an organ piano echoed. You didn't even know you had a piano…

"Dear?"

Jumping with a shriek, you whipped your head around. A ghostly visage, bathed in a deathly pale blue glow, hovered inches from your face, an unnaturally wide grin stretched across their blue lips. Bony fingers gently traced up your cheeks, sending tingles down your spine.

With sunken eyes and high, sharp cheekbones, Elizan—a "visiting" friend of one of Ramshackle's ghosts—was truly a sight to behold. His complexion had a pallor that matched the moonlight filtering through the decrepit windows of the form. Wisps of long, flowing indigo hair framed his face, swept back as if caught in a breeze that only he could feel.

"You look wonderful," he cooed, pressing a featherlight kiss to your forehead, leaving your cheeks burning.

"Ah. Thank you," you stammered, averting your gaze and gently pulling away. You could hardly focus on the words being spoken to you, your mind spinning with the surrealness of it all.

"You look... Good as well," you forced out with a cough, tugging at your hair nervously. "But... Listen... I—"

Before you could finish, the door to the entrance slammed open, nearly breaking off the hinges with a sound that could wake the dead, sending cracks spider-webbing through the already dilapidated walls.

On the inside, you screamed louder than the hinges.

You had painstakingly patched up the door after Grim's recent screw-up—a feat that had tested your patience and carpentry skills to their limit. Unless you wanted to survive on a diet of stale canned food and cafeteria leftovers for another year, you couldn't afford any more repairs.

While you were busy mourning the loss of having decent meals, heaving and leaning against the door for support, your friends called out your name in a panic, their bleary and furious gazes zeroing in on your figure. Clad in white, you stood there, the perfect picture of a pretty blushing bride.

The uninvited guests didn't go unnoticed by your "groom," and in seconds, you were pulled into a suffocating grip. Elizan's usually serene demeanor shattered like fragile glass. His deathly pale features contorted into a snarl, veins pulsing ominously beneath translucent skin. His typically gentle eyes blazed with an unsettling fire, icy whites now narrowed and piercing.

"Mutt!" Crewel seethed, his foot slamming into the floor and shattering the newly installed tiles. Your soul nearly left your body as you screamed inside again. There go a thousand thaumarks…

"What in the Sevens is this!?" Crewel shrieked, running a gloved hand through his tousled hair. With sharp movements, he pointed a finger at Elizan. "I'll have you know I can have you arrested for trespassing, unlawful detention, and violating the sanctity of this academy!"

"How... How dare you? Barging into this sacred ceremony—Who even are you?!" Elizan snapped back, his arms coiling tightly around your torso. The crowd erupted in a haze of shouts and muddled answers. Unable to understand anything, Elizan's intense gaze shifted and bore into yours, demanding answers. You gulped nervously, suddenly feeling small and vulnerable in his grasp.

"Who is he?! Who are they?!" he barked like a dog, flashing his sharp fangs at you.

"Uh… That's my professor—uh, Crewel," you stammered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "And those are… They're my… friends?" Your gaze flickered to the group of men who had entered, their expressions ranging from confusion to anger.

Elizan's wide eyes now filled with shock, white orbs glossed over with luminescent blue tears. He pushed you away as if you had burnt him, recoiling from your touch as though it pained him physically.

"You know other men?!" the ghost cried out, his hands clenching into fists, his midnight blue hair cascading wildly around his face like a tempestuous sea. The tortured cries of the groom echoed through the room, sending a shiver down your spine as you awkwardly shifted on your feet, feeling like a character caught in an soap drama.

"…Yes?" you replied, unsure.

"How could you do this to me?!" He sobbed, a dark shadow covering his face. "Running off on an affair the DAY of our marriage?!"

"Well, that's a rather dramatic accusation—" you started, but Elizan shook his head in anguish.

"Answer me! Do you have another man?!" His voice shook the room, and you took a few cautious steps back.

"Elizan, please," you uttered gently, your eyes darting nervously toward one of the men in the room.

Your lover didn't meet your gaze; instead, his eyes were locked onto the ghost, a storm of emotions brewing beneath his features. As you jumped down from the makeshift podium, you shot an apologetic frown at the ghost, hoping to diffuse the escalating situation. "Don't you understand? You're the other man."

"No! You're married to me!" Elizan shrieked, lunging forward in a frenzy, his nails clawing at the air as if trying to grasp something intangible. "Whoever he is—He's the other man!"

MALLEUS DRACONIA

"Whoever he is—He's the other man!"

Lilia raised an eyebrow with a chuckle, his form reclined against a fogged-up window of the room. The weather was gloomy and stormy, the skies tinted green outside, casting an eerie glow over the scene. The window pane, streaked with raindrops and mist, blurred the view of the turbulent skies beyond. Lilia hummed a tune under his breath, a calm figure amidst the brewing storm.

With a sidelong glance, his eyes locked onto Malleus, whose entire figure shook with a barely contained wrath that threatened to engulf the very air around him. The young prince's chest heaved in violent, choked breaths as smoke wisped from his mouth and nose—tendrils of flames flickering amidst the swirling dust and ash.

A deafening crack tore through the air as a vivid surge of green emerald lightning erupted from the heavens, descending upon the roof of the venue with explosive force. The blast of energy painted the sky with a blinding flash of green as it crashed into the building, sending broken glass and wood raining down upon the venue.

Cursing, Elizan moved you both aside, a large chunk of debris hurtling past, narrowly missing your startled form. As more debris crashed down, he shielded you with an outstretched arm, a shimmering barrier briefly forming to deflect a particularly large piece of wood.

"Spectral pest," Malleus seethed, his eyes aglow with an eerie green hue as his nails elongated into sharp claws. With a click of his tongue, he raised his hands, summoning thorns that spiraled towards Elizan, ensnaring the ghost in their sharp embrace. Simultaneously, from the floorboards below, vines emerged like serpents, their tendrils gently but firmly pulling you away from Elizan's protective embrace and guiding you into the safety of Malleus's arms.

"How—?! Ngh!" Elizan writhed against the thorny vines. The prickly tendrils twisted around him like serpents, their sharp points digging into his ghostly flesh.

Malleus paid no mind to the struggling spirit, keeping his gaze fixed on you as he checked for any signs of harm. His expression softened with relief upon finding you unscathed, albeit a bit dusty.

"Beloved," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm amidst the lingering chaos. His gloved hand moved delicately, sweeping away the clinging dust from your shoulders and arms. Pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingered there briefly, conveying a warmth that contrasted starkly with the raw power he had displayed moments ago.

"Are you alright?"

Blinking up at him with wide eyes and frazzled hair shooting up in every direction, you nodded dumbly. Turning away from him, you nearly gasped aloud to see the room in shambles, debris scattered everywhere, and the eerie green glow of energy still lingering in the air. The ghostly residents were in a state of panic, their translucent forms flickering as they moved frantically.

"My dorm," you whimpered, your mind racing as you calculated the cost of the damage.

With a chuckle, Malleus adjusted his grip on you, his muscles flexing as he gently set you down. Your legs felt shaky as you tried to steady yourself.

"I will handle the cost of repair, my dearest," Malleus assured you, bending down to your height, his voice dropping to a whisper. Green eyes bore into yours, strands of his midnight hair falling over his face. "You will not need to worry about such things once we are formally betrothed."

You froze, your face suddenly warming and burning.

"What?!"

Malleus reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your cheek, claws dragging across your supple cheeks. "Yes, my dear," he murmured, chest rumbling as his lips curved into a sharp smile. "You heard me correctly."

"I… I don't know what to say," you whispered, feeling dizzy with emotion.

"Will you consider it?" he asked softly, a faint hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Please?"

Caught in the depth of his gaze, you felt your resolve melting away. "I-I guess?" you breathed, your voice trembling. "I'll… consider it."

A smug smile spread across his face, and he tenderly pressed his lips against yours. "That's all I ask, my dearest."

After ensuring you were alright one last time, Malleus redirected his focus to Elizan. With a flick of his wrist, the thorns under his control tightened around the ghost. Elizan shrieked and thrashed about, his translucent form writhing in pain as the thorns dug deeper.

"Do try to exercise some restraint, my boy," Lilia drawled, tapping his sharp fingers idly against his crossed arms. "We do not want Ramshackle to be bathed in blood. It would be very unsanitary."

not too sure if i am continuing but feel free to suggest some peepl bookies

[an-au-blog]

I'm about to nerd-out about the Fan Letter project:

The one piece fan letter project is so genuinely beautiful. I'm not even talking about the jaw dropping animation and the comeback of the art style. The very idea of this - the perspective of civilians, non-power/haki users and just random people in a world that's already so wide is so cool. And the way we got to experience the main characters of the main series - their impact on the world and the collateral. I particularly loved how they were still there but in the way their faves were obscured, never fully shown (other than the last scene) you could tell they weren't the focus even if the whole episode was a tribute to them and their fans.

(This is what I mean by the faces thing)

This entire scene is just the girl and Usopp (I can talk about the symbolism in colors and shading/the parallels of the marine literally casting a shadow on her while one of the strawhats gives her a helping hand, but I digress) - the focus is still on her, regradless of the speaker and the camera is only following her movements and facial expressions. We only get a clear view of Usopp's face a second before the scene changes.

This too, Luffy is the only one on the screen but we don't get to see him, not fully(even in the closer shots), because it's not about him.

I also loved how funny they made the power scalers in the bar (and he way we saw Zoro and Sanji interact with them. As they are probably one of the usual ones to be compared by dude-bros, it was like an inside joke for the fandom and I love it to bits!)

Truly amazing.

Or the little fanboying moments, so cute!

And I can't believe I'm just now hearing of the theory that Chopper's bounty is always this low because the mariens love him so much they don't want the high bounty to put him in danger!

There's so much to be implied/confirmed! For example, we get to see how many people love Brook because for some reason we keep forgetting he's a world-famous rockstar. He has his own merch, he started a trend with afros and those glasses he has on the poster, his fans picked up his puns,

It was also touching how Luffy touched lives without even trying (not that he usually does), as the marine brothers. Even though the older one claims he doesn't like his brother, he loves him enough to appreciate him being alive when he witnessed an entire war for someone else's. Even if he doesn't want to admit it, it's clear he cares about his brother deeply. It's just so amazing seeing it :''))

(Bonus to this is the little monologue Nami's fangirl has that adds so much about their relationship :))

I'm so looking forward to more ;;--;;

[servicpop]

NSFW ; BLACK , WHITE & GRAY criminal bottom m!reader x detective oc

warnings; age gap , degradation , hate sex , exhibitionism/infront of people (mentioned slightly) , hand cuffs , dubcon/noncon(?) , no after care

notes __ this idea has been sitting in my inbox for awhile but I've finally gotten around to it !

JUNE 19 1999 / 11:48PM

Red and blue lights colored the night skies; not even a slither of the moonlight slipped past the cover of the clouds. The bright yellow caution tape strapped around the fences of the home squealed when Callahan Marshall pulled them up to duck underneath them.

Officers on the scene scrambled to question him but were quickly shot down with the flash of his badge. They slowly retreated, allowing for the man to walk into the crime scene.

The rain had been unforgiving tonight, covering all traces of footprints that might have been left by the culprit in an attempt to escape. A scowl plastered Callahan's face as the stench of alcohol and smoke insulted his nose. The floorboards creaked underneath each step he took, whining with the burden of his weight.

"Careful, Marshall, we aren't too sure if the culprit even left. There's been no signs of escape." Callahan's eyes slowly met the ones that belonged to one of his co-workers — another detective. The other man visibly shuddered when Callahan's pitch-black eyes met his, deep circles tainted the bags of his eyes. A gruff noise was all he got in response before Callahan made his way through the home.

It wasn't a house belonging to someone particularly made up of money so why would anyone make such a mess out of it?

The rooms were left clean, untouched almost. Only a few drawers or cabinets were opened and a few appliances were out of place but no alarming indicator a robbery had happened. Callahan traced a finger along the countertops of the kitchen, looking at the dust that had been sweeped up. This house had been left like this for awhile, even before the culprit set foot in there.

A sudden clattering caught Callahan's attention and he turned his body to the other detective and police officers searching the house, "Did you knock something over?" "No sir, what did you hear?"

Callahan slowly approached the laundry room, twisting the doorknob with caution. He pushed the knob forward and the door swung open. It was hard to make out with the lack of light but Callahan saw a figure dart out the window. "Here!" He called out, alerting the officers before he walked up to the window, watching as the figure scrambled away. He wasn't worried though, the whole place had been surrounded by police patrolling the area.

You couldn't get far even if you tried.

JUNE 22 / 2:24PM

You got caught. It was about time you did.

You had spent the past few years doing various, sketchy jobs in the desperation for money. You lost your job not even three months into it and it had become harder and harder to find suitable jobs to spend the rest of your life slaving away at. You had no choice, it was either that or living off the streets with the local sewer rats as your only form of entertainment and friendship.

Now, you were stuck in an enclosed, dusty white room, sat cuffed to a metal table right in the middle of it with an annoyingly bright light dangling from the ceiling. It was the interrogation room. And the man you sat infront of you was none other than the 'greatest detective of our time' Callahan Marshall.

He was an older guy, probably pushing his 40s by now. You could tell from the way his brows were locked into a furrowing position and the stubble that graced his chin seemed lazily maintained. He also had quite the bit of hair on his arms, his sleeves loosely rolled above his elbows. You couldn't really tell what color his eyes were from how low he held his head and the light above you casted a deep shadow over his eyes, but through the darkness you concluded that they were a yellow-ish orange. Interesting.

"June 19." You flinched. It was expected that he had a deep voice but actually hearing it was different. His voice was coarse, gravelly like wheels crunching against a rocky trail and you could practically hear the amount of cigarettes he's smoked throughout his years of stress. "You were caught about and hour or two after police had arrived," Callahan sounded bored, mumbling his words.

Growing up, Callahan had always hated criminals. From watching bad guys on TV to coming home and seeing his parents dead on the floor and his house a mess from a robbery, Callahan devoted the past years to serving justice. His world was devoid of color, a black and white film on an old, vintage television.

"Did you steal from Mr Broadwood's home?" He pressed, leaning his forearms along the table. They were meaty, not extremely muscular but definitely built from casual hours at the gym. Could you even lie at this point? He was so sure with his words that even the fact that people were watching you from the two-way mirror comforted you from this man.

"No." And the cheap lie rolled off your tongue like it was sweet candy. He raised his eyebrows, unamused. Yeah he was definitely onto you. "So... these photos aren't you?" A confused look flashed across his face as he slid the printed images of your face in full view; it was painfully obvious that it was you. But your head seemed to shake side to side saying 'that's not me' like it was instinct. Callahan leaned back in his chair, scrubbing a hand over his face as his head tilted back in annoyance. You could hear the prickly sound of his stubble scraping against the palm of his hand.

"I'll force it out of you if you don't fess up," His hand slammed down onto the metal table, causing it to rattle from the contact. "Fine, is force the only thing you cops know how to do?" It was only natural you acted this way. For all your life you've relied on cops to protect you and your loved ones, but each time you needed them the most, they turned a blind eye to you.

But, oil doesn't mix with water. Your two starkingly different perspectives caused conflict. With balled fists, Callahan stood up, the chair scraping against the floors with how abruptly he stood up. Before you knew it, a hand made its way to your hair. Callahan's thick fingers tangled in the strands and pulled your head back, eliciting a small yelp from you. He leaned in closer, looming over you with hate seeping from his pores.

"Tell me this isn't you," He growled, picking up the photos and shoving it in your face. In all honesty, you were focused on how damn close he was. His breath was fanning against the shell of your ear and if you concentrated enough, you could hear the short breaths he took. Callahan straightened his posture but never loosened his grip on your hair. He pulled your head back even further and peered down at you. "Dirty criminal," he muttered under his breath.

You swore it was just the adrenaline making you hard. There was no way you'd fall for a detective like him. So why did he have your face squished onto the table and your boxers pulled down just under the curve of your ass.

"This is what you wanted isn't it?" Callahan had one hand holding your head down and another on your waist, digging into your flesh. He found out that the more he dug into your waist, the more you'd whine and squirm against him. You couldn't deny his words though, something in you was so intrigued by Callahan. He got straight to the point, and he didn't try and fool you with kindness. But maybe you wished he'd be a little more gentle with you.

Your eyes shot wide open when you felt his tip circle your rim. You didn't even have to see it to know the size of it. Could it even fit? "Wait—" Your words were cut off as he thrust forward with no warning, letting his cock sink into your hole. The burning sensation of the stretch made tears bubble at your eyes, threatening to spill. A groan slipped from his lips as he buried himself to the hilt, "God you're too tight."

Callahan moved his hand from your head to firmly grip at your waist, leaning forward so his body weight would pin you down. His hips grinded against you, digging his cock deeper inside your warm body. "Spit it out, did you do it or not?" He grunted, beads of sweat trickled down his temples as he pounded into you repeatedly, watching your flesh ripple with each thrust. "You're leaking everywhere," He chided, snaking his hand to reach for your neglected dick, holding the tip in his palm.

Your wrists strained against the cuffs binding you to the table, the metal cutting into your flesh as you struggled. "I didn't— do it!" You managed to gasp between moans, your hair spilling out onto the table. "Oh really? You didn't do it huh?" He scoffed and his hand tightened around your weeping tip, stroking you off in time with his relentless thrusts.

"People are watching you through that mirror and through the cameras, your pathetic face is on view for everyone to see," Callahan leaned down to whisper in your ear, grabbing a fistful of hair to yank your head up, allowing your teary face to be on full display for the cameras. Fuck, that turned you on more then you would've wanted it to.

His head slung against your shoulder, an oddly affection gesture for how hard he was fucking you. "I know you're not innocent, but your fuckin' doe eyes pisses me off," Callahan's voice had gotten even rougher, and the anger was clear in his tone. He was just using you for stress relief.

Your thighs trembled and your body started to give out, the stimulation was too much for you. His cock kept abusing your prostate, grinding and rubbing against it so much that black stars seemed to cloud your vision. Your fingertips clawed at the metal table, trying to ground yourself as shameless moans came out of your throat. "You're so loud," He scowled, leaning back so he could admire your back in its full glory.

It got him off with the way you sucked him back in even if you seemed so stubborn to liking him. Watching his fat cock disappear into your hole was enough to make him groan. "You wanna cum? Admit it." It was like his dick was a truth serum, you found yourself blabbering, tears rolling down your pink cheeks as you spewed out the truth, "Fine, I did it, I did it, please— just—" A smirk plastered Callahan's face as he whistled, "Go ahead."

In a split second you found yourself spurting out white all over his hand, your back arched and your body convulsed in his grip. Callahan meant to pull out but you were sucking him in so much that he couldn't. He cursed as his orgasm crashed down on him like a wave, filling you up with his sperm before he could pull out. "Shit," he huffed, pulling up his pants before he stared at his cum dripping from your hole. It was still clenching around nothing, and Callahan couldn't help but feel a pang of responsibility for you, but he shook off those thoughts. His one duty was to protect the civilians, not empathise with criminals.

"I'm done here," He grumbled, picking up his things and leaving you slumped on the floor, still bound by the handcuffs on the metal table. He turned his head over his shoulder to glance at you one more time, feeling a strange uncomfortable sensation in his heart before he scoffed and walked out the doors.

He's never lost control like that with any other criminal.

BONUS ; IN THE OTHER SIDE OF THE INTERROGATION ROOM

"Kid looks like he's about to die," Alastair, a co-worker of Callahan, was assigned to supervise the interrogation, "Marshall sure is brutal," He sighed, standing up once he heard that Callahan was finished.

"At least his tactics work though, props to him," Alastair turned around to face the intern who was meant to learn from this experience. The poor boy had his hands covering his eyes.

"It's fine now, you stay here, I'll clean the guy up."

a/n ; i changed my layout !! Its alot easier now ^^; my previous one had so many symbols I had to copy and paste ,, anyways ! I finally wrote about him ♡♡ the original request(?) was a bit different so this is ooc of him but I will expand more on his story if you guys like him ! Also I introduced Alastair ,, maybe I can write a threesome with them sometime !! I've never done it before so who knows

[1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt]

Sexism in TOS: Worst Offender, or Progressive in Retrospect in Comparison?

I see a lot of folks claim that TOS was the most sexist of the Star Trek shows by a landslide -- and while I agree that it definitely suffered from the sexism of the times, I also have other perspectives to share to give some food for thought.

I am of course not insinuating that TOS isn't sexist -- it is, but I have to ask folks to consider the breadth and depth of Berman's sexism in his run and ask yourself: Was Gene Roddenberry genuinely more sexist in his storytelling and delivery than Rick Berman?

I'm not telling you to feel one way or the other, but all I ask is that you hear me out and consider some perspectives and make your own balanced assessments. Nobody is obligated to share my opinion, but it means a lot just to have folks hear it and see their thoughts on the subject. So here is what I was originally responding to:

Someone's response to this photo:

"Devil's advocate. This was a part of the popular form of cardio during the production time of TNG. Yes, it was heavily sexualised by men, but so is literally every other way women work out. Men have been caught taking pictures of women while trying to do dead lifts, running on tracks and working on sled machines. They post them online to share too. The fact is, there is no way a woman can be shown working out without it going there. And yeah,t hat includes the combat forms of workout they do in Star Trek. Just look at how Dax dresses when she spars with Worf. Yes, they're dating, but still, same goes when 7 does and any other female.

Aerobics routines like this were made dirty and cringy. This was what women wore then by and large. This is how the workout was done. We make it cringy."

My response to them:

"I respect your take, but I disagree on a few fronts.

The miniskirt was chosen by the TOS female cast, not the male cast, specifically requested by Grace LW and affirmed by Nichelle and Majel who would go on to vehemently defend the miniskirt over the years as comfortable and embraced by them.

Grace said it was comfortable and seen as a symbol of female sexual empowerment during the 60s and thought it would be a progressive garment (and turns out that it was, as it was later adapted and worn by male crew as a skant on TNG) -- FYI those were designed by a gay man and Gene approved them.

This was also supposed to be Spock's TMP outfit:

Literally lingerie.

We saw both Uhura (who saves Kirk in from Marlena Mirror Mirror) and Yeoman Landon (the first to initiate combat with a classic Kirk-esque kick to help the Captain being attacked in The Apple) carry out their combat training in their Starfleet uniforms without ever being made to change into any ridiculous workout gear.

In fact, I'd argue Jim Kirk was sexualized even more than the ladies of the week on the show and I saw his naked body more than anyone else's on a fairly regular basis. He wore red yoga tights while topless in Charlie X while the women wore full length gymnastic suits that covered their entire body. If anything, it went out of its way to avoid sexualizing women practicing fitness in those scenes and instead focused on Kirk.

Gene confessed that he asked to have Shatner filmed in suggestive/provocative ways to "give something to the ladies", so he -- as he said -- liked to "film him walking away" or have him conveniently busting out of his shirts in just about every episode as it were, because Shatner apparently had great assets. LOL

Gene made an effort to at least sexualize both if he was going to sexualize one, and he carried that attitude forward in wanting the m/m and f/f scenes in the background on Risa for TNG. He also insisted that the men and women wear skimpy outfits on THAT TNG planet. You know the one. LOL I mean the dudes even had on less than the women:

Gene also gave permission to K/S shippers to have their conventions back in the 70s when he was asked for permission. Gene and Nimoy felt with all the skimpy outfits they had the ladies wear, why not let the ladies and gay men have their fun, too? It's how we ended up with moments like this:

Yes, those are two people dressed up as Kirk and Spock's penises doing interpretive dance. Gene didn't give two damns. LOL

In my eyes, that was a very progressive take on Gene's part for the 60s. It was actually PARAMOUNT STUDIOS who had the big problem with K/S stories and vehemently tried to shut them down. Gene literally hired slash authors on his payroll and even had several slash stories/writers published in his official Star Trek books (The New Voyages & The New Voyages II).

I feel I saw Uhura and women in TOS engaged in more physical combat/altercations defending themselves that Troi or Bev were shown holding their own.

In fact, Kirk used to get furious when someone would "dress up" his female crew members without their consent (Trelane episode, Shore Leave episode) because like his male crew members, he wanted them to be treated professionally and to also have his male crew act professionally.

Berman brought some of his own personal biases into Star Trek that in some ways regressed it. While TOS had blatant sexism and was called on it time and again, that show was made in the 60s -- a solid 21 years before TNG. We as a modern audience understood why some of it was cringe/sexist due to the time period -- look at any other media coming out in the 60s and Star Trek was miles ahead of what other shows were doing.

Compare that to Berman who was churning sexist stuff out when women like Starbuck and Scully were simultaneously on screen on other programs airing, and we had already had Sigourney Weaver and other strong women in Holywood playing respectful roles.

In my eyes, there was no need of the sexism seen in TNG but especially VOY and ENT. There was no excuse for it when other shows were writing women far better and a number of those weren't even set in the future like Trek was, making it age even faster due to having those dated perspectives frequently highlighted.

In the Center Seat documentary as well as "The Fifty Year Mission" book you will find cast members, writers and other studio alumni who attest to this. Some discussions from "The Fifty Year Mission":

"First, Berman was supposed to have been a real sleaze ball . . . According to Terry Farrel, he would go on constantly about how her breasts weren't big enough, how she should do something about it, and how his secretary was a good example to follow as she had huge breasts. She even had to have fittings to get larger bras, and that was all done at his behest.

Later Berman and Braga developed a name for Jeri Ryan's character prior Seven of Nine. They originally called the character "perineum" which if you look it up it is the area between the anus and the scrotum. Later they floated the name "6 of 9". I mean, what does it tell you about where these two were coming from in the development of this character if they had names like that put forward in all seriousness for her?"

Gene Roddenberry also had some of his own more progressive ideas for TNG cut or watered down by Berman. Roddenberry agreed TNG should have homosexual relationships and representation at a con in the 80s and insisted on it in a meeting with his writers -- something Berman later would not honor. Gene wanted the AIDS episode, showing m/m and f/f in the Riza scenes -- these were some of Roddenberry's requests to include in TNG that Berman later stonewalled.

Berman's era was sadly dated by his own misogynist bias, IMO, to the point that it can somewhat hurt the shows he worked on through his cringe egoism and blatant disrespect toward his female cast.

There is a reason why Gene could keep female actresses working with him and Berman had a revolving door of women that he couldn't seem to keep working for him -- he was abhorrent to women, on and off set. Gene wasn't perfect at all, he had a lot of issues himself -- but Berman was a whole other level. Just look at what he did to poor Jolene Blalock, Marina Sirtis and his toxic commenting on her body weight which exacerbated her struggles with eating disorders, or how he treated and talked to Terry Farrell.

Anyway, just some food for thought. I'm not saying anyone is wrong regarding a take like that, but there are a variety of ways to look at this. Gene Roddenberry isn't a saint by any means, but it definitely bothers me how folks will tote the Berman era as if it were the lesser of two evils or the more progressive depiction of women when I felt there were far more concerning portrayals of women in his era with far less justification.

(P.S: I don't event want to go near the sheer amount of "creepy old dude/villain preys on innocent/naïve/scared young woman or little girl" stories there were in Berman's era, either. But that's a whole other can of worms I can write about in a part 2.)

[disturbedbeautywrites]

Photos from Facebook from a guy who teaches a storm class here in Oklahoma.

Wrapping up Twisters opening weekend with one more behind the scenes memory.

In April, 2023, we were approached by the Twisters production office about doing a storm spotter class for the cast and crew. As we talked about the class, I asked them if they wanted 1) a storm spotter class; 2) a weather class with info to help actors with their roles in the movie; or 3) a tornado safety class to help everyone new to Oklahoma in springtime. The answer was yes - we want all three.

On May 3rd, 2023, we hosted nine of the cast and nine crew members for the training. It didn't really have a name, but I've heard someone refer to it as Tornado Bootcamp or Tornadoes 101. We started around 8am and it lasted two hours.

I covered Oklahoma tornado culture to illustrate how big of a deal tornadoes are to the people who live here, covering everything from Saturday siren tests to IPAs named after weather terms to TV meteorologist drinking games and bingo cards to storm anxiety and PTSD. I talked about the Twister effect, which saw meteorology school enrollments double or triple in some cases after Twister came out. I did some basic storm spotter training and a little severe weather meteorology, and wrapped up with tornado safety (including a slide illustrating how it was not safe to shelter under a wooden bridge or by strapping yourself to a pipe using screen grabs from Twister.)

The class was very interactive. Daisy Edgar Jones and Glen Powell sat front row center and Daisy had her notebook and took notes the entire time. I got really good questions from the class and I could tell they were genuinely interested.

We followed up the class with an extended tour/visit to SPC and the WFO, with a lot more great questions and discussion. We ended the visit talking vehicles and technology with Sean Waugh. I think some of them would have stayed all day if they had been able to.

[raekensluver]

moonlit confessions

description: connecting with theodore nott after escaping the chaos of a slytherin rager.

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

contains: partying, late night confessions, drinking, mentions of alcohol, smoking.

song rec: i'm yours by isabel larosa- "nervous, trip over my words, you're so pretty it hurts."

w.c: 1.4k

an: in my slump era....

the room was a blur of motion and color, the air thick with the scent of spilled alcohol and the haze of cigarette smoke. the pulse of the music thrummed through the floorboards, setting a rhythm that seemed to dictate the movements of the slytherin students as they danced and cheered. you leaned against the cool stone wall, watching the game of beer pong unfold with a detached amusement. mattheo and blaise were a formidable team, their laughter echoing off the walls as they scored point after point, while pansy and draco's competitive banter added a sharp edge to the atmosphere. it was the kind of party that you used to love, but tonight, it all felt a bit too much.

you decided to take a break from the chaos, making your way through the crowded room, looking for a familiar face. your eyes scanned over the faces, some flushed with excitement, others with the beginnings of a hangover. lorenzo berkshire caught your gaze from across the room, his dark eyes twinkling as he leaned in to whisper something to the girl he was flirting with. you rolled your eyes and continued your search for theo, wondering if he had retreated to one of the quieter corners to escape the cacophony.

as you moved through the party, the twins, fred and george, intercepted you with mischievous grins. "looking for someone?" fred asked, his hand offering you a beer. you took it, smiling politely. "theo nott," you replied. "ah, the mysterious one," george said with a wink. "last we saw, he was playing hide and seek with a group of his adoring fans." they both chuckled, their playful teasing a welcome distraction.

you thanked them and continued your search, the music's bassline vibrating in your chest. the party was in full swing, but theo's usual charm and presence were nowhere to be found. the crowd grew denser, a mix of laughter and shouts as the game grew more intense. you felt a gentle tug on your sleeve and turned to see luna lovegood, her eyes wide with curiosity. "have you seen theo?" you asked, raising your voice over the din. she tilted her head, considering for a moment before pointing towards the balcony doors. "i think he went outside," she said, her voice delicate as ever.

you pushed through the crowd and stepped into the cool night air, the stark contrast from the stuffy room making you gasp for breath. the moon was high and full, casting a soft glow over the grounds. you spotted theo immediately, leaning against the castle wall, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. he looked lost in thought, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon.

his posture was relaxed, but there was a tension in his shoulders that spoke of his discomfort with the raucous festivities inside. you approached him slowly, the gravel crunching under your feet. "mind if i join?" you called out, your voice low and gentle. he glanced over, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "thought you'd be in there, cheering for the champs," he said, nodding towards the party.

you took a seat beside him, the cold stone wall biting into your back. "not really my scene tonight," you confessed, taking a sip of the beer that had grown warm in your hand. "yeah, me neither," theo said, taking a long drag of his cigarette. the silence between you grew comfortable, filled only by the distant sound of the party and the occasional hoot of an owl.

theo's eyes flickered to you, the embers of his cigarette casting a warm glow on his face. "you okay?" he asked, his voice genuinely concerned. you shrugged, feeling the weight of the night's expectations lifting. "just needed some fresh air," you replied, watching as he exhaled a plume of smoke. the air around you felt charged, as if the very molecules were holding their breath.

his gaze searched yours for a moment before he spoke again. "it's not easy, is it?" theo said, breaking the silence. "keeping up with all of this." you knew he wasn't just talking about the party. the unspoken understanding between you grew stronger with every shared glance. "sometimes i feel like i'm drowning," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

he nodded, taking another drag of his cigarette. "i know what you mean," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. the warmth of his hand found yours, and for a moment, you felt like you weren't alone in the sea of noise and expectations. "theo," you began, but he leaned in, cutting off your words with a kiss.

his lips were warm and firm, the taste of tobacco faint on his breath. his ring clad hand slid up to grip the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if he was afraid you would slip away. you felt your heart stutter in your chest, the suddenness of the kiss taking you by surprise. but you didn't pull away. instead, you melted into him, the warmth of his embrace a comfort you hadn't realized you needed.

his thumb traced gentle circles on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. theo's other hand rested on your hip, grounding you as the world around you faded away. the music and the laughter were just a distant echo, the only sounds that of your mingled breaths and the crackle of the cigarette between you. it was a moment of pure, unadulterated intimacy, a stark contrast to the chaos of the party just a few feet away.

you pulled back, your cheeks flushed and your eyes wide with surprise. "theo," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. he looked at you, his own eyes dark with something unreadable. "yeah?" he responded, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk that was all too familiar.

you opened your mouth to speak, but the words got tangled in your throat. his beauty had always been a silent punch to the gut, leaving you struggling to breathe, let alone form coherent sentences. "you're just… so pretty," you stumbled out, your eyes flicking down to his chest, where his shirt lay open, revealing a hint of his collarbones. it was a clumsy compliment, but it was all you could manage.

theo chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. "thanks," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. he took another drag of his cigarette, the orange ember burning brightly in the dark. "you're not so bad yourself," he added with a wink. the confidence in his voice made your cheeks burn even hotter.

you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, suddenly aware of how close you were sitting to him. the warmth of his body was intoxicating, and you found yourself leaning into it, craving more of his touch. his hand on your neck had left a trail of fire, and you couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like if he kissed you again.

the silence stretched out, filled with unspoken thoughts and racing hearts. you felt your cheeks heat up as you stumbled over your words, trying to find the right ones to express the tumult of emotions churning inside you. "theo, i… i just…" your voice trailed off, and you bit your lower lip, feeling your heart thud in your chest.

his smirk softened into a gentle smile, and he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. the touch sent an electric jolt through you, and you leaned into it, your eyes searching his for any sign of what he was thinking. "i know," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in your very soul. "i feel the same."

you took a deep breath, the scent of his cologne and the night air swirling around you. it was a heady combination, making you feel both lightheaded and grounded at the same time. the party inside beckoned, the music and laughter a siren's call that you couldn't ignore. "we should get back," you murmured, not really wanting to leave the sanctuary of his arms but knowing that you couldn't hide away forever.

theo nodded, stubbing out his cigarette against the wall before standing up. his hand found yours, the warmth of his skin sending a jolt through you as he pulled you to your feet. "yeah, we don't want to miss the grand finale," he said, his voice teasing. you couldn't help but laugh, the tension between you easing slightly as you allowed him to lead you back into the mayhem of the party.

[inkspiredwriting]

The Diner of Destiny - Part 2

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: Okay, some of you wanted a second part. So I thought why not? I've never written a second part to any of my stories, so I'm not so sure if the second part is any good.

Warnings: spoilers for season 4 episode 5-6, angst

Five wandered through the fractured remains of countless timelines, driven by a singular purpose: to find y/n, the woman he had unwittingly erased from existence. He had become a phantom, slipping between realities like a shadow, his resolve hardening with each failed attempt. Every timeline, every world was a dead end, a cruel reminder of the life he had obliterated with one careless choice. But giving up was never an option. He had to find her.

Weeks blurred into months as he tirelessly pursued the faintest hints of her existence. Fragmented memories, distorted whispers, and fleeting visions of a woman whose face he had never truly known. Each clue led him deeper into the labyrinth of time, and each step weighed heavier on his conscience. He was close—he could feel it.

Finally, one day, in a timeline that felt strangely still, as though it had been waiting for his arrival, Five found her.

She was sitting in a small, secluded garden, surrounded by overgrown ivy and vibrant flowers. The sun cast a warm, golden light over the scene, but there was an air of melancholy that clung to the place, as if it remembered the things that had been lost. Y/n was there, her back to him, her head bowed as she absentmindedly traced patterns in the dirt with a stick. She looked almost like a statue—beautiful, but untouchable, frozen in a moment that he had shattered.

Five approached her cautiously, his heart pounding in his chest. His footsteps crunched softly on the gravel path, and y/n looked up, startled. Her eyes met his, and for a brief, agonizing moment, it was as though she recognized him. But then the flicker of familiarity vanished, replaced by confusion.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice tinged with wariness but not fear. There was a gentleness in her tone that cut Five deeper than any anger could have.

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, and for the first time in a long time, he hesitated. How could he explain the unimaginable? How could he make her understand what he had done?

“My name is Five,” he began, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m not sure how to say this, but… you were supposed to be someone important to me. To all of us, actually. But I made a mistake, a terrible mistake, and I… I lost you.”

Y/n’s brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of his words. “Lost me? I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. We’ve never met before. How could you have lost me?”

Five’s chest tightened with the weight of his guilt. “You’re right. We’ve never met. But we should have. I was supposed to find you, fall in love with you. You were supposed to be my anchor, the person who kept me—and all the other versions of me—grounded across the timelines. But instead, I got involved with someone else, someone named Lila.”

At the mention of Lila’s name, Y/n’s expression softened, but only slightly. “Lila?” she echoed, the name unfamiliar and distant.

Five nodded, his voice trembling. “Yes. I thought I was making the right choice at the time, but it was the wrong one. Choosing Lila… it erased you from our lives. You were supposed to be there, and because of me, you weren’t. I took away your life, your future, and I didn’t even know it until it was too late.”

Y/n stared at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of deception or malice. But all she saw was a man haunted by his mistakes, a man who had come to her not for forgiveness, but for something even more elusive.

“What do you want from me?” she asked quietly, her voice laced with a sorrow she didn’t fully understand.

Five closed his eyes for a moment, gathering the strength to continue. “I don’t know if I can make things right, but I had to find you. I had to tell you what happened, even if it doesn’t change anything. I’m sorry, y/n. I’m sorry for what I took from you, for what I took from all of us. I just… I wanted you to know that you mattered. That you were supposed to matter.”

Y/n looked down at the ground, her hand still clutching the stick. She was silent for a long time, and Five feared that his words had only hurt her more, that there was nothing left to say. But then, she spoke, her voice soft and distant.

“Do you really believe we could have been happy?” she asked, almost to herself.

Five’s heart ached at the question, at the lost possibility of what could have been. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “But I would have liked to find out.”

Y/n nodded, her expression unreadable. “I can’t remember you,” she said softly. “But something in me feels… something. Maybe it’s just the idea of what could have been. Or maybe… maybe there’s something more.”

Five watched her, his breath catching in his throat. This was it—the moment that could change everything. But even as hope flickered within him, he knew the truth. He had come too late. The damage was done, and there was no going back.

“I wish I could change what happened,” he whispered. “But all I can do is tell you the truth. You deserved so much more than what I left you with.”

Y/n looked at him, her eyes filled with a sadness that went beyond words. “Maybe we were never meant to be,” she said quietly. “Maybe… maybe this was always how it was supposed to end.”

Five shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. “No. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. But it’s what I’ve made it. And for that, I’m sorry.”

Y/n stood slowly, the stick falling from her hand as she faced him fully. “I don’t know if I can forgive you,” she said, her voice trembling. “But I appreciate that you tried to make things right. Even if it’s too late.”

Five nodded, the tears finally spilling over as he met her gaze. “I’ll never stop trying to make it right,” he vowed. “Even if I never see you again, I’ll keep looking for a way to fix this.”

Y/n gave him a small, sad smile, the kind of smile that spoke of acceptance and resignation. “Goodbye, Five,” she said softly. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, her figure growing smaller and smaller until she disappeared into the distance. Five stood there, alone in the garden, the weight of his actions pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He had found her, but he had also lost her—again.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the garden in a blanket of twilight, Five knew that this was his burden to bear. He had made a choice, and now he would live with the consequences for the rest of his existence. The woman who was supposed to be his anchor, his salvation, was gone, and he was the one who had pushed her away.

And so, with a heavy heart and a mind full of regrets, Five turned and walked back into the shadows, disappearing from the world that could have been his. The timelines would go on, fractured and unstable, and he would continue his endless search for redemption. But deep down, he knew the truth—some things could never be undone. And some losses were meant to be permanent.

The garden, now empty and silent, bore witness to a moment that had passed, a possibility that had slipped through time’s fingers. And as the stars began to twinkle in the darkening sky, Five’s silhouette faded into the night, carrying with him the memory of what could have been, and the sorrow of what never was.

[florwons]

‧₊˚ ⋅ hurt — nishimura riki ‧ ˚₊‧ (PART 2)

synopsis you swore you hated him. he swore he hated you. yet, something changed when your injury brought you together in unexpected ways. as your arm healed, you couldn't ignore how Niki became increasingly attentive and drawn to you. it was a twist you both never saw coming – was it possible that he was developing feelings for the very person he considered his rival?

pairing rival!niki x fem!reader genre fluff, e2ls, hs au !

warnings implies overthinking, jealous niki

featuring danielle newjeans jungwon enhypen gunwook zerobaseone word count 3.6k+ ( 3692 words ) !

note i am so sorry to keep you guys waiting for so long, i’ve just been quite busy 😵‍💫 ! but, i finally finished part 2 !! tysm for all the love on part one, i really do thank you all !! it was my first written work posted on here, so i’m glad people did enjoy reading it <3 hope you enjoy the second part as well !!

— maybe, read part 1 first ?

“It's painfully obvious that they're into each other!" Danielle whisper-shouts to Jungwon beside her, sneaking a glance in your direction. Jungwon nods in agreement, both of them observing as Niki playfully doodles on your cast while you giggle.

This was far from a usual scene for Danielle and Jungwon, and they couldn't have predicted such a turn of events.

Unbeknownst to both you and Niki, your conversations continued to flow as if you were the only two people in each other's world. "You know, Ki, I have to get this cast off next week," you sigh, observing him pause one of his doodles on your cast. A faint frown appeared on his face, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"I was kind of getting used to you being a one-armed wonder," he remarked, earning himself a playful smack on the shoulder that left him rubbing it. "Geez, did all your arm strength go into that smack?"

"Seems like it. But seriously, my doctor says it should be healed by next week."

"I'm going to miss using your cast as my personal canvas."

"You've practically turned my cast into your own art gallery – every doodle is from you, no one else."

"That's why I do it, kind of like practicing, you know? It's become part of my daily routine," he admitted, his words partially true. Yet, there was undoubtedly more to his attachment. It was almost as if these interactions were the only way for both of you to be close. Secretly, he cherished the sight of his drawings everywhere you went.

Sometimes, he couldn't help but wonder if you thought about him when you looked at your cast. But surely, he couldn't be developing feelings for you, right? It’s just a different feeling this time–a feeling he experienced when he was finally on good terms with someone who had once been his enemy.

"I'll miss it too," you respond, your gaze fixed on the cast, appreciating all the doodles adorning it. Your feelings for him have evidently grown deep, and there's no denying that fact anymore. "But, having both arms back will definitely be good. I still need to get back at you for that one time we coincidentally ended up in the nurse's office together."

"Hey!" His chuckle is contagious, causing you to laugh as well. Unbeknownst to both of you, Danielle and Jungwon are eavesdropping, recognizing that something is brewing between you two.

"Yep, they're definitely into each other," Jungwon declares, though he sighs afterward. "But they seem like the type to stubbornly deny it afterward."

“So, how do we make them realize their feelings?”

“We both need to individually talk to them about their feelings.”

“I like the way you think, Jungwon.”

The two had never stared at a clock so intently before. Lunchtime was drawing near, yet time seemed to be crawling by. "Just a little longer," both Danielle and Jungwon thought, their anticipation growing as the hour hand inched closer to 12. When the bell finally rang, they exchanged a quick smile before rejoining their respective friends.

"Now, if you don't mind, Niki, I'll be stealing my best friend away," Danielle announced to Niki, who looked a bit puzzled but eventually nodded. Equally bewildered, you allowed Danielle to take you away, offering a small wave to Niki as you went.

Seizing the moment, Jungwon remarked with a grin, "Looks like you and YN are getting pretty close!" Niki's nod was met with an unusually wide smile from his best friend, a grin that seemed just a tad wider than usual.

"What's with that grin on your face?"

"What do you mean, Niki?"

"Your smile looks a bit strange."

"Oh, it's nothing. I just find it cute how quickly you and YN are hitting it off. Maybe a bit quicker than expected."

"Is that a problem?"

"No, it wouldn't be a problem if you'd just admit your feelings," Jungwon states matter-of-factly.

Niki comes to an abrupt stop, staring at Jungwon as if trying to process whether he actually heard what was just said. "What?"

"Your feelings for YN," Jungwon repeats.

"Come on, Jungwon, this is ridiculous. I don't have any feelings."

"Are you really sure about that?"

"Yes, I'm absolutely sure. I don't understand why you're even suggesting it."

"Fine, fine. Let's just focus on getting some food. Man, I'm starving," Jungwon sighs, sensing that pressing further won't lead anywhere good. Niki nods, his emotions a jumble, but mainly feeling confused. Why was Jungwon bringing this up all of a sudden? But, he quickly shook off these thoughts, thinking it was just another one of those weird questions he’d ask.

Despite Niki's adamant denial, you found yourself quite honest when Danielle swiftly pulled you out of the classroom. Sensing that something was wrong, you confided in her – the one who had always stood by your side. I mean, what good would it do you if you were to hide it from her?

"Yeah, Dani, I think I might actually like him. And it's kind of freaking me out." You leaned your head on her shoulder once you found a table, seeking some comfort. Danielle offered a reassuring pat on your thigh.

"Why would it be freaking you out? There's nothing wrong with it. You're just feeling uneasy because you two used to hate each other," Danielle pointed out.

"True, but it's just... I don't know, it feels strange."

"Just take your time, okay? You can figure out your feelings for him at your own pace. And who knows, maybe he's feeling the same way."

"I doubt that."

"Hey, don't be so quick to dismiss the idea if you're not sure," Danielle reassured you, her words like a comforting embrace. You hummed in response, genuinely grateful for her unwavering support. Exhaustion seemed to be creeping in, and you found yourself drifting into a light doze, the weight of the situation taking its toll. She allowed you to rest your head on her shoulder, her gaze catching Jungwon and Niki entering the room in perfect timing.

Locking eyes with Jungwon, Danielle shared a smile, a silent acknowledgment that things seemed to be progressing positively between you and your feelings. However, her smile faded slightly as she observed Jungwon's expression, suspecting that Niki might have brushed off any discussions about his feelings. While it might take some time, both Danielle and Jungwon were determined to help bring you and Niki closer.

But five days had since passed, and in the classroom, Jungwon and Danielle were discreetly passing notes, sharing their frustrations and plans regarding your future connection with Niki.

"What should we do, Danielle? Our plans haven't been successful," Jungwon scribbles on a piece of paper, passing it to Danielle beside him. He observes her thoughtful expression as she contemplates a response, then watches as she swiftly writes something down and passes the note back to him. Unfolding the paper, he lets out a small sigh as he reads her words.

"I'm not sure..." Jungwon begins to write a reply, but the teacher's voice cuts through their note exchange, startling them slightly. Were they caught? Were they going to be asked to walk to the front? Anxious glances are exchanged, and the two of them look around, only to spot a new student entering the room.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet our new student, Park Gunwook," the teacher announces. As the shy smile of the newcomer meets the class's greeting, a lightbulb seems to go off in both Danielle and Jungwon's minds. They exchange a knowing glance.

"Let's make Niki jealous."

The universe seemed to be on their side, as the teacher asked Danielle to remind you that you had to tour Gunwook around the school. Not surprised, Danielle sees you with Niki again, distracted in your own conversation with him.

“YN!” Her voice catches your attention, which makes you look her way. Giving her an eyebrow raise, you see her pointing at Gunwook, who had a shy smile on his face. You soon exclaimed, soon realizing what you had to do.

“Oh right! Sorry Niki–I have to help give a tour to the new student.”

“Who?” Niki looked at Danielle’s direction, seeing her and Gunwook together. “Gunwook?”

“Yeah–you weren’t paying attention to what the teacher said to me, did you?”

“Not really,” He pretended to shrug it off. “Why can’t Danielle do it?”

“Well, too late. I already took up the offer. So, see you later?”

“Yeah. See you,” He said as you walked off, watching Gunwook’s smile become wider when you walked by his side. Yeah, Niki did not like that new guy. Not even one bit. Scoffing, Niki reaches for his phone, hoping to distract himself.

“Someone looks mad,” Danielle soon took a seat by his side, soon realizing the change in his behavior.

“Mad about what?”

“Mad about YN leaving with this new guy.”

“It’s just a tour after all.”

“Just a tour,” Danielle couldn’t help but chuckle, but soon stopped by Niki’s sudden glare. “Could be a tour where they get to become friends.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Niki brushes it off, although he wasn’t quite pleased with what Danielle said. “She can do whatever she wants.”

“Sure, Niki. Whatever she wants.”

Walking back from the vending machine with his strawberry milk in hand, Niki's steps faltered as he caught sight of you engaged in a seemingly cheerful conversation with Gunwook. His gaze lingered on the scene for a moment, a mix of emotions swirling within him. A tinge of jealousy gnawed at his chest, but he quickly pushed it aside, reminding himself that he had no right to feel that way.

He took a deep breath and continued walking, forcing himself to focus on his drink and avoid any unnecessary overthinking. Who was he to overthink the situation anyways?

"What's the big deal about him?" Niki's gaze hardened as he observed the two of you, his grip on his strawberry milk tightening. “Surely he can’t be that fun to talk to.” Jungwon couldn't help but let out a chuckle, but his amusement quickly faded when Niki's glare landed on him.

"Feeling a bit jealous, are we?" Jungwon teased.

"Jealous? Don't be ridiculous."

"Then why does it bother you so much? Come on, don't tell me you're clueless about this," Jungwon shot back, taking a casual sip from his drink. "They do seem to have some chemistry, if you ask me."

Niki's frustration was evident as his jaw clenched. He was grappling with emotions he couldn't quite define. The idea of you being with someone else didn't sit well with him, but he wasn't about to admit that openly.

"Whose side are you on, anyway?"

Jungwon flashed a knowing smile. "I'm on the side of the truth. And it's pretty obvious you're feeling something for her."

“Feelings?”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow at Niki's sudden change in tone. “Yeah, yours, you idiot. Why did you become so attached to YN? Weren’t you two rivals before? What changed?” Jungwon asked, soon shushing Niki with his finger. “Don’t answer that—you have feelings for her. That’s why. Isn’t it obvious?”

Niki huffed, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking. He took a deep sip of his strawberry milk, as if trying to drown out his own thoughts. "You're reading too much into it.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Jungwon's fingers latched onto Niki's ear, causing him to wince in discomfort. Amid his struggle to free himself from Jungwon's grip, Niki abandoned the grip he had on his strawberry milk.

"Jungwon, cut it out! Seriously, I'm not sure if I even... ow! Ow! Fine, fine! I do... ow! Will you let go already?" Niki's voice swung between irritation and a hint of resignation as he massaged his ear once Jungwon finally released it, his scowl directed at his persistent friend.

Jungwon smirked, a triumphant glint in his eyes. "See? Admitting it isn't that bad, is it?"

Niki huffed, his cheeks slightly flushed from a mix of frustration and embarrassment. "Don't get too smug about it. And you better not tell anyone else, got it?"

"You have my word, my secretive friend." Jungwon's grin only grew wider, relishing in the small victory of nudging Niki to confront his feelings, even if it had involved a bit of ear-tugging persuasion.

Now, Jungwon just needed to find a way to convince him to confess his feelings. Texting Danielle immediately, it was time to put part two to the plan in action.

“Why is he here?” Niki whispered softly into Jungwon’s ear, raising his eyebrow at you and Gunwook sitting down together, laughing at each other.

“Cause he is our friend now!” Jungwon said with a big smile, pleased with the frown placed on Niki’s face. Danielle seemed to notice the two before you did, giving a way. Jungwon waved enthusiastically, while Niki gave a small one. Did you not notice him walking into the mall too?

“Hey!” Danielle called out, which finally drew your attention to Jungwon and Niki approaching. You acknowledged them, waving and giving Niki a smile, which brought a hint of color to his cheeks. He guessed that if you were here, then it was okay for Gunwook to join too.

Soon, you and the rest of the group decided to explore random stores in the mall, browsing through clothes, snacks, and everything in between. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, chatting and laughing as they moved from one store to another. At least, that’s what you thought, while Niki felt differently.

Niki could sense that you and Gunwook were growing closer, which bothered him more than he'd like to admit. He couldn't understand why Danielle seemed so unconcerned about the two of you spending more time together, and it baffled him even more that Jungwon wasn't worried. After all, Jungwon had been the one who forced Niki to confess his feelings for you to him, yet he wasn't doing anything or even encouraging him to take action.

However, Niki tried to ignore his thoughts, but he couldn’t shake the twinge of jealousy that tugged at him every time you and Gunwook shared a laugh or whispered to each other. He trailed slightly behind, trying to focus on Jungwon and Danielle's conversation, but his attention kept drifting back to you.

Eventually, you all found a table at the food court, settling down before deciding on what to eat. “Should we just get popcorn chicken? I’m not that hungry,” Danielle suggested, and everyone agreed.

“That sounds good. I can go buy them—just watch over my stuff,” you offered, standing up to make the purchase. Niki noticed Gunwook about to rise from his seat to join you, something he definitely didn't want to happen. Acting on impulse, Niki quickly stood up. “I’ll go with you, Y/N.”

“Huh? Oh—sure!” you replied, a bit surprised. Gunwook also seemed taken aback by Niki’s sudden eagerness, and he slowly sat back down.

As you and Niki walked together toward the food stall, he tried to relax and focus on enjoying your company. “You two seem to have gotten close, huh?” Niki ventured, hoping to find answers to his own thoughts.

“Oh, with Gunwook?” you replied thoughtfully. “He’s been texting me more lately, so I’m more comfortable with him now, even though I don’t hang out with him much during school hours and such.”

“So, you want to hang out with him more during school hours too?” Niki asked, sounding slightly defeated as he jumped to conclusions.

You looked at him, confused, which snapped him out of his thoughts. “I wouldn’t mind it, but I’d prefer spending time with you, Danielle, and Jungwon. After all, we are closer, don’t you think?”

Niki nodded in response, feeling both relieved and uneasy. He would have been more content if you hadn’t mentioned the first part, but he’d take what he could get for now.

It wasn’t long before the two of you returned to the rest of the group, finished up your food, and decided to head to the arcade. Even with your reassuring words, the comfort they gave Niki was fleeting. As soon as you arrived at the arcade, Gunwook seemed to cling to you more than ever, almost as if he was doing it on purpose.

Niki hated being apart from you and found it hard to shake the feeling of jealousy that gnawed at him. It had been a long time since Niki had disliked someone this much.

Much to his dislike, Danielle and Jungwon seemed to catch onto Niki and Gunwook’s behavior. They whispered among themselves and managed to distract Gunwook, leaving you and Niki alone for a moment.

You and Niki were at the claw machines, and you cheered him on as he focused on getting a duck plush. “Come on, Niki, I know you’re good at these!”

“Yeah, I should be better than Gunwook,” he blurted out before panicking internally and trying to concentrate on the prize in front of him.

If he didn’t say anything about it, you’d— “Huh? What about Gunwook?”

Niki laughed it off nervously, saying, “You seem to be having a great time with Gunwook today, so I figured he’d be trying his hand at the claw machines too and showing off his skills, you know.”

“Are you trying to say you’ll be better than Gunwook at this?”

“I am better at this than him—just watch, I’ll impress you,” Niki said, pressing his lips together in concentration. He let out a muffled sound of despair as the plush dropped again.

You watched Niki with growing amusement, starting to connect the pieces. His comments about Gunwook, his sudden eagerness to join you at the food stall, and the way he seemed on edge whenever Gunwook was around—everything pointed to one conclusion. Instead of feeling confused, you felt flustered, realizing that Niki might be jealous of Gunwook.

“Niki,” you said softly, trying to hide your smile, “you don’t have to impress me. I already think you’re amazing.”

Niki paused, glancing at you with a hint of surprise in his eyes. “Really?” he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

“Yeah,” you nodded, feeling your cheeks getting warm. “So instead of trying to impress me with a claw machine, why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”

Niki hesitated, looking down at his shoes for a moment before meeting your eyes again. There was a vulnerability in his expression that you hadn’t seen before, a mix of uncertainty and hope.

“I…” He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I guess I’ve been a little jealous today. I didn’t like seeing Gunwook so close to you, and it made me realize how much I care about you.”

You smiled softly, appreciating his honesty. “I kind of thought so,” you admitted. “And for what it’s worth, I really like spending time with you, too.”

A small smile crept onto Niki’s face, relief washing over him. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You both stood there for a moment, the noise of the arcade fading into the background.

With the silence hanging between you, Niki cleared his throat, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He turned his attention back to the claw machine, his determination renewed as he focused on winning the duck plush.

“I’m going to get this for you,” he declared, a hint of playful defiance in his voice. “Not because I’m trying to impress you, but because I want to.”

You chuckled softly, watching him maneuver the claw with renewed focus. “No pressure, but I have faith in you,” you teased, leaning closer to the machine.

He finally managed to win the duck plush, pulling it from the machine with a triumphant grin. “Well, then,” he said, offering it to you with a shy smile, “this is for you.”

"Thank you, Niki," you smiled, hugging the plush to your chest. Continuing to tease him, you added, "So, I'm taking this as your way of saying 'I like you' indirectly, hm?"

Niki's eyes widened slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red. “Don’t get ahead of yourself…”

“Oh? So, you’re fine with me going back to Gunwook?” you teased, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“Hey, don’t say that,” Niki glared. “Fine, I like you a lot. More than I could’ve imagined.” he admitted with a shy smile. “So, there’s no way I’m letting Gunwook win you over.”

You smiled, “I was just kidding, anyway. I only ever had eyes on you.”

“Really?” he said, sounding both confused and relieved that you felt the same way all along.

“Why do you think I asked you to get me that duck plush, huh?”

“Why?”

“Because it reminds me of you. That’s why I wanted you to get it, so it could mean even more.”

“Really? I look like that duck?” He pointed at the plush in your hand, showing a mock disgusted expression, which made you laugh.

“Of course!” you replied with a playful grin.

“I think we could’ve gotten a better…representation. Maybe something cooler?” Niki pestered.

“Whatever you say, you’ll still forever look like a duck to me,” you shrugged. “The duck is cute, and you’re cute too.

Niki chuckled, shaking his head. “You have a weird way of saying you like me too.”

“Well, if that didn’t come off too clear—I like you more, Niki.”

“Now, if you really liked me, you would totally associate me with a cooler animal, wouldn’t you?” Niki jokes.

“Hmm, I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” you chuckled. “But for now, you definitely suit this adorable duck. Now, come on, let’s go meet up with the rest.” With a playful grin, you grabbed his hand and tugged him along, holding onto the duck plush that now symbolized him in your eyes.

Niki playfully rolled his eyes, but soon a sheepish grin spread across his face. He was willing to go along with whatever you said or wanted; being with you felt perfect, and he hoped moments like these would last forever.

( thank you for joining >< ) @cha3w0n-hearts @k1ttylvr @feitem @honey-bunnysweet

[myheadphonesareneverloudenough]

Thinking about how Matt Lang mentioned rerunning TGWDLM.

Obviously, there'd have to be changes. Not just in the casting, but in every aspect of the show just due to the nature of how Hatchetfield has expanded and how TGWDLM has aged.

Now that we know for sure that the events in TGWDLM happened because of Pokey, I think they'd design the show even more around the colour blue instead of green like in the original promotional material. This also gives Matt Dahan so much more to work with when it comes to underscoring, think of all the motifs he has to sneak into the scenes now.

Hidgens would have to be recasted, and while there's plenty of options, I think after Workin' Boys he has to be played by Jeff Blim. I don't know if anyone can ever top what Jeff did in WB. Of course, that would mean that Jeff's original TGWDLM characters would need to be recasted as well. Mr. Davidson has not been seen in HF since TGWDLM (save for the small BF cameo), so it wouldn't be hard to find someone new for that role. Sam Sweetly is more difficult because of his appearances in Nightmare Time and the pre-recorded NPMD cameo, but it's impossible to have Jeff play both Hidgens and Sam in the same scene so he would still most likely be recasted.

The only Jeff character that would need to stay the same is General John Macnamara, that's another permanently Jeff character, in my opinion. The show would require some rearranging so that the Macnamara and Hidgens scenes weren't back to back this way. Between TGWDLM and BF, Macnamara went through a lot of character development and Jeff really discovered who he was by the second show, so it would be super interesting to see him interacting with Paul again now that we've learned so much more about the guy.

Now that Hatchetfield has expanded so much, I think it would be really fun to bring in new characters that we've met since TGWDLM happened. They should include Curt Mega as Officer Bailey in Show Me Your Hands, since we know he canonically works alongside Sweetly. Bring in James Tolbert during the PEIP scene as Xander Lee. Even just the people on the streets in La Dee Dah Dah Day, imagine the amount of cameos that could come into play there. Kim Whalen dances in as Becky Barnes, Angela Giarratana is Grace Chasity, all these well-known characters that we never saw during TGWDLM before making small appearances as they were already infected by the hive mind.

Speaking of the La Dee Dah Dah Day number, it would be fucking awesome to get Joey Richter back in the Pete Spankoffski costume for the coffee shop scene to do the hot chocolate boy bit.

I also just think a new perspective on the show will change so much of the context. Like Emma discussing Jane, we now know Jane's family with Tom and Tim. We're now very familiar with Ted's little brother, a character we had no idea existed during TGWDLM (think about Ted's little freak out over Alice being dead at Hatchetfield High...). We had no idea that this apocalypse was brought on by one of the Lords in Black.

Anyways. I agree with Matt, they should definitely bring The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals back for another run of the show.

[yesihaveaobsession]

Alastor Fears?

Alastor x female reader (others mentioned)

Summary: Alastor fears you, Charlie, and the others are just as surprised when you show up at the hotel and see's Alastor's demeanor changed

A/N- I'm back! Sorry I went away on Memorial Day weekend, and I had writers block but I'm alive!! (This isn't proofread so sorry if it sucks)

Alastor stood his ever-present grin firmly in place. He adjusted his red pinstripe suit, eyes scanning the room with an unsettling blend of amusement and mischief. It was just another day in Hell, or so it seemed.

That's when the front doors to the hotel opened and a hush fell over the lobby of the hotel. Every eye turned to you, but none more sharply than Alastor’s. His grin wavered, eyes widening slightly before narrowing in what could only be described as… fear? The air grew tense as you made your way further in the room.

Charlie, the Princess and proud owner stepped forward and the first to speak, "Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! How can we help you today? "You glanced around, your gaze lingering on Alastor. He stood rooted to the spot, fingers twitching at his sides as if resisting the urge to flee. The sight of the notorious Radio Demon unsettled was enough to draw curious stares from everyone present. You LOVED teasing him.

You thought you would be the one shivering in your boots when he was around but nope. You had the infamous Radio Demon pratically kissing your feet, Oh did it feel good. "I'm here for a room," you replied calmly, though the intensity of your gaze never wavered from Alastor. "I hear this place offers redemption."

Charlie nodded enthusiastically, though her eyes flicked nervously between you and Alastor. "Absolutely! We'd be happy to have you."

Vaggie stepped forward, her expression wary. "Do you have any luggage? "You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "Just me."Alastor finally found his voice, though it came out in a strained, static-laced whisper. "And what brings you to our humble establishment, dear guest?" You smirked at the deer demon, and he shifted, Charlie and Vaggie definitely noticed it and a wave of shock plastered over their faces.

Your smile widened, "Let's just say I'm here to keep an eye on things. Make sure no one gets out of line. "The tension was palpable, and even Angel Dust had ceased his antics, watching the scene with keen interest. Husk’s usual grumbling was replaced by a tense silence, his eyes narrowed as he observed Alastor's uncharacteristic unease. Despite Alastor's smile, you and Husk were the only ones who knew how Alastor was feeling in that very moment.

You twitched your body towards him, and he practically jumped right out of his pin stripped suit, the grip on his microphone tightened and you could've sworn you saw little speckles of sweat. You smirked again and stifled a laugh,

Charlie cleared her throat, attempting to regain some semblance of normalcy. "Great! Let me show you to your room." She gestured for you to follow, casting a worried glance at Alastor as she led the way.

"Who is she?" Vaggie asked. Alastor, regaining some of his composure, straightened his tie and forced a brittle smile. "Someone best left undisturbed," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

[moonselune]

How would Astarion, Gale, Lae'zel and Karlach (separately) react if they witnessed someone random insulting Tav and her only ignoring the offender? As if, no comeback, no fight, just 100% pretending not to hear anything.

Hehehe we love some protectiveness from our dearies don't we?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

The marketplace was alive with activity, the sounds of vendors shouting their wares and children laughing as they ran through the stalls. You and Karlach strolled through the bustling crowd, her large frame a comforting presence by your side as she slung an arm around your shoulders. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the scene.

As you admired a display of colorful fabrics, a gruff voice cut through the pleasant atmosphere. "Look at her, thinking she belongs here. Pathetic."

You felt a flush of embarrassment but chose to ignore the insult, keeping your attention on the fabrics. Karlach, however, immediately bristled, her temper flaring up.

"Oi!" she barked, her voice commanding and loud enough to make several heads turn. "You got a problem with her?"

The offender, a scruffy-looking man with a sneer on his face, shrugged nonchalantly. "Just calling it like I see it."

Karlach stepped forward, her eyes blazing with anger. "And what you should see is a beautiful woman who has more strength in her little finger than you do in your entire body," she said, her voice dripping with contempt. "Buddy, you don't know who you're dealing with."

The man took a step back, intimidated by Karlach's fierce demeanor and the flames flickering from her skin.

"I didn't mean anything by it," he muttered, suddenly looking very small.

"Apologize," Karlach demanded, crossing her arms over her chest, her muscles bulging. You couldn't help but smile at her.

The man mumbled a quick apology before scurrying away, his tail between his legs. Karlach turned back to you, her expression softening as she saw the tension in your shoulders.

"You okay, love?" she asked, her voice gentle now.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Thank you, Karlach. You didn't have to do that."

She grinned, wrapping an arm back around your shoulders and pulling you close. "Of course I did. No one gets to talk to my girl like that."

You leaned into her, feeling a rush of warmth and gratitude. "I'm lucky to have you."

"Damn right you are," she replied with a wink. "Now, let's get you something nice. I think you deserve a treat after that nonsense."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

The training grounds were buzzing with the sounds of warriors honing their skills, metal clashing against metal, and the grunts of exertion filling the air. You and Lae'zel were making your way through the camp, her presence a beacon of strength and determination. You walked beside her, your head held high despite the stern glares of the githyanki warriors around you.

As you passed a particularly burly githyanki soldier, he spat out a venomous insult, his voice dripping with disdain. "Look at her, pretending to be a warrior. She's nothing but a weakling."

You felt the sting of his words but chose to ignore him, your gaze fixed straight ahead. Lae'zel, however, stopped in her tracks, her eyes narrowing as she turned to face the offender.

"Repeat that," she demanded, her voice a low, dangerous growl.

The soldier sneered, clearly not intimidated. "You heard me. She's nothing."

Lae'zel's hand moved to the hilt of her sword, her posture radiating lethal intent. "You dare insult one under my protection? You question my judgment?" Her voice was like ice, each word cutting through the air.

The soldier faltered, realizing too late the gravity of his mistake. "I-I didn't mean—"

"You will apologize," Lae'zel interrupted, her eyes blazing with fury. "Or I will make an example of you."

The soldier, now visibly shaken, muttered a hasty apology, his bravado evaporating under Lae'zel's fierce glare. Satisfied, she turned back to you, her expression softening slightly. You offered her a shy smile in response.

"You should not have to endure such disrespect," she said, her voice still tinged with anger. "Do not think that ignoring them means you are weak. You have more strength than they could ever understand."

You nodded, appreciating her fierce protection. "Thank you, Lae'zel."

She placed a hand on your shoulder, a rare gesture of affection. "Come. We have training to do."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The evening sun bathed the city streets in a warm, golden light as you and Gale made your way through the bustling crowds. The smell of fresh bread and spices filled the air, and the chatter of people enjoying the end of the day created a lively atmosphere. Gale walked beside you, his hand occasionally brushing against yours, his eyes bright with the simple joy of your company.

As you passed a group of townsfolk, one of them, a burly man with a sneer permanently etched on his face, called out, "Look at her, all dressed up like she thinks she's something special. Pathetic."

You felt the brunt of the words hitting your insecurities but you chose to ignore them, focusing instead on a nearby stall displaying the most beautiful tapestries. Gale, however, immediately noticed the insult and the way you pretended not to hear it. His expression darkened, and he turned to face the offender, his posture tense but controlled.

"Excuse me," Gale began, his voice calm but laced with an edge. "I believe an apology is in order."

The man looked taken aback, his sneer faltering as he met Gale's intense gaze. "What? I didn't say anything to you."

"No, but you insulted her," Gale replied, his tone unyielding. "And that is unacceptable."

The man glanced at you, then back at Gale, clearly considering his options. Gale took a step closer, his presence commanding and his eyes blazing with quiet fury. His hands crackling with untamed magic. "Apologize. Now."

The man muttered something under his breath, barely audible, before turning away and disappearing into the crowd. Gale watched him go, his jaw clenched, before turning back to you.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly, his hand finding yours and raising it to his lips, giving it a small peck

"I'm fine, Gale. Thank you." You chuckle, you quite liked this side of Gale, but you couldn't give that away so easily, not if you wanted to experience the fullness of this side of your lover.

He sighed, his expression softening. "I can't stand by and let anyone treat you that way," he said, his voice filled with genuine concern. "You deserve better than their petty insults."

You leaned into him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I know. And I appreciate you standing up for me."

Gale smiled, wrapping his arm around your waist as the two of you continued your walk.

"Always," he promised, his tone warm and loving. You couldn't help but notice the way the tips of his fingers pressed to you so forcefully and it made you smile. Oh yes, this would have to happen more often.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The bustling market was alive with the sounds of merchants hawking their wares and customers haggling over prices. You and Astarion strolled through the crowd, his arm casually draped over your shoulder, a smirk playing on his lips as he whispered witty remarks about the various stalls and their goods.

You stopped to admire a table of finely crafted jewelry, a stranger's voice cut through the din, sharp and disdainful.

"Look at her, the harlot," the woman sneered, her words dripping with contempt. "As if she doesn't get enough gifts from her gentleman callers."

You stiffened slightly but chose to ignore the insult, your gaze remaining fixed on the jewelry, it was rather beautiful. Astarion's arm tightened around you, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the offender. He could feel the tension in your body and the effort it took to ignore the woman's words.Astarion stepped forward, placing himself between you and the stranger.

"Excuse me?" he said, his voice dangerously calm. "Care to repeat that?"

The woman faltered, taken aback by Astarion's sudden challenge. "Oh, I-I just said—"

"I heard what you said, hag" Astarion interrupted, his tone icy. "But I think you should reconsider your choice of words."

The woman's bravado crumbled under Astarion's piercing gaze. He took a step back, muttering something unintelligible before scurrying away. Astarion watched him go, his expression one of cold satisfaction.

Turning back to you, Astarion's demeanor softened. "Are you all right, my darling?" he cooed, gently cupping your face.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Thank you, dearest But you know you didn't have to."

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "Of course I did," he murmured. "Now I believe in fairytales such valiance is rewarded with a kiss."

You sighed and rolled your eyes, pulling him in for a kiss by the lapels of his jacket, knowing that the woman was watching you. Perhaps that's why you chose to deepen the kiss, putting on a show for her. She clearly needed something in her life.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope y'all enjoyed it - Seluney xox

[yaniluvs]

𝒾𝒾 ┆ ⋆.˚ ⚾️ 승민 : AS WE ARE “ 𝑏𝘰𝘰𝑘𝑠, 𝑝𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑠𝑒𝘵𝑠 𝑏𝑢𝘵 𝘵ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝘰𝑝𝑙𝑒. ” ── baseball guy bumps into you twice in the same day, first the library and then the pathway outside a convenience store, but maybe you get to know him better?

prev. | index | next ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

𓍯 baseballcapt!seungmin ʚଓ fem!reader ：（ 𝒾 ）4.1k ── ༯ SERIES (?) uni au, slow paced & slow burn, curiosity, fluff, strangers to friends to ???, small town, slight angst, language, skz ensemble, very long, y/n is a foreigner/has mixed ethnicity. ⸝⸝𓂃 LiBRARY . /ᐠ.ꞈ.ᐟ\ྀིྀི

yani's note ˖˙ ᰋ as we are mv, i love you. i want it tattooed in my head. my heart too. had fun writing this chapter, sorry for the delay!! here you go <3 also, i just crossed 300 followers? really? if you know, i did just pass 200 like two days ago. thank you so much. this really motivates me TT. comments, likes, req/asks and reblogs are always appreciated ! send in a reply or an ask if you want to be in my mastertag, or my individual series' taglists. happy reading <3

the library was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt like it was carved out of the world itself. sunlight streamed in through the large windows, casting soft patterns on the wooden floors. it wasn’t a large library—small, cozy, and tucked away at the edge of the town, mostly frequented by students and a few older residents who enjoyed its peaceful atmosphere.

seungmin pushed open the door, a soft chime ringing as he stepped inside. he didn’t particularly enjoy coming here—it wasn’t exactly his scene—but he had a book to return, one his friend had borrowed under his name. as usual, he wore his baseball cap low, the brim shading his face, as he approached the front desk.

a blonde was sitting behind the counter, his deep voice calm as he hummed a tune to himself while stamping books. seungmin placed the book on the counter, nodding slightly.

“returning this,”

felix looked up briefly, gave a small nod, and reached for the book without much thought. “got it.”

the guy turned away without another word, heading toward the shelves by the windows. it had been a while since he’d been here, and he didn’t remember much about the layout, but he found a stool near an aisle and sank down onto it. pulling a small notebook from his jacket pocket, he uncapped his pen and began writing.

he always wrote when things felt too noisy inside his head. the notebook held snippets of his thoughts, observations, and, lately, small moments he hadn’t been able to forget—like her.

behind the counter, felix finished sorting the returned books before glancing at the time. it was quiet enough that he decided to assign someone the task of checking on the lone customer.

“y/n,” he called, his voice low so as not to disturb the silence.

she turned from the bookshelf she was organizing, brushing her hands on her skirt. “yeah?”

“there’s someone by the windows. go check if they need anything,” felix said, gesturing lazily toward the back of the library. “seems like he’s settled in, but we’re supposed to, you know, do our job.”

the girl rolled her eyes with a small smile. “fine. anything else, your majesty?”

felix smirked. “just be your usual charming self.”

she shook her head, adjusting the loose cardigan over her blouse as she walked toward the windows. the aisle was bathed in golden light, and at first, she only saw the figure sitting on the stool, hunched slightly over something in his hands. it wasn’t until she got closer that she froze.

seungmin?

he didn’t notice her at first, too focused on whatever he was writing. his profile was sharper in the soft light, the cap hiding most of his messy brown hair. she hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to speak, but curiosity got the better of her.

“so you come to libraries now too?”

her voice was soft but laced with a playful edge, and seungmin startled slightly, his head snapping up. his dark eyes widened for a fraction of a second before narrowing in faint recognition.

“you,” he said flatly, closing his notebook as if on instinct. “what are you doing here?”

y/n tilted her head, her grin widening. “i work here.”

he blinked, clearly caught off guard. “work here?”

“yup,” she said, crossing her arms. “not that you’d know, considering you don’t seem to come here much.”

“i don’t,” he admitted, leaning back slightly on the stool. “this isn’t really my thing.”

“i can see.. then what brings you here today?”

“returning a book,” he said simply, tapping the closed notebook against his knee.

she raised an eyebrow, taking a step closer. “you don’t strike me as the type to rent books, either.”

“well, it wasn’t mine,” he clarified. “a friend borrowed it under my name.”

“ah,” she said, nodding. “makes sense. still, didn’t think i’d see you here.”

“same,” he replied, his tone neutral but his gaze steady on her. “i didn’t know you worked here.”

“well, it is a new job,” she said, shrugging lightly. “started about a week ago. felix and i both work part time, after uni.”

“felix?”

“the guy at the front desk,” she explained. “my best friend. he’s nice—well, mostly,” she added with a small laugh.

seungmin didn’t comment on that, his eyes flickering toward the front desk briefly before settling back on her.

“alright, mr. mysterious,” she said, tilting her head playfully, “if you’re not here to rent books or socialize, what’s the notebook for? don’t think i didn’t notice you scribbling something down.”

seungmin’s fingers tightened slightly around the notebook resting on his knee, and for a moment, it seemed like he wasn’t going to answer. finally, he shrugged, his voice low. “just… thoughts. random things.”

“random, huh?” she echoed, leaning forward just enough to tease without invading his space. “like what? are you secretly writing the next great novel?”

he huffed, the faintest hint of a smirk ghosting across his lips. “no.”

“then poetry?” she guessed, her eyes sparkling. “or are you jotting down world domination plans? oh, wait! is it—”

“it’s none of those,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind.

“you’re no fun.”

“you talk too much,”

“i’ve been told that before,” she replied, unfazed. “but come on, i’m curious! what could possibly be so secretive that you can’t share with your friendly neighborhood library worker?”

he gave her a long, measured look, as if debating whether or not to humor her. “it’s just a journal,” he admitted finally, his voice barely above a murmur. “nothing special.”

her expression softened at that, and she straightened slightly. “a journal?”

“yeah,” he said, his eyes dropping to the notebook. “helps me think.”

“that’s actually… really cool,” she said, her voice sincere. “i’ve tried keeping journals before, but i always end up doodling in the margins or writing nonsense.”

seungmin glanced at her, his brow raising slightly. “why?”

“i guess i’m too impatient,” she said with a small laugh. “my thoughts move faster than my pen can keep up.”

he didn’t respond, but there was something in his gaze that made her feel like he understood.

they fell into a comfortable silence again, the soft rustling of pages and distant hum of felix’s humming at the front desk filling the space. y/n leaned back against the shelf, her arms crossed loosely, and studied him for a moment.

“you’re a quiet one, huh?” she said finally, her tone light.

“we're in a library.”

“oh my bad. no! but still, in the field-”

“is that a problem?”

“not at all,” she said quickly, smiling. “it’s just… different. most people i know are always trying to fill the silence, you know? but you’re just okay with it.”

seungmin shrugged, his gaze shifting to the window. “silence is easier.”

“easier than what?”

“than talking.”

she blinked at the honesty in his reply, her teasing smile softening into something more thoughtful. “i guess i can see that,” she said quietly. “but talking isn’t so bad, you know. especially when the person you’re talking to isn’t half bad.”

he looked at her then, his dark eyes steady and unreadable. “you think so?”

“obviously,” she said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. “i mean, you’re tolerating me, and that’s saying something.”

seungmin’s lips twitched, the closest thing to a smile she’d seen from him. “you’re persistent, i’ll give you that.”

“thank you,” she said, pretending to curtsy dramatically. “i’ll take that as a compliment.”

they stayed like that for a while, the silence between them growing less like a void and more like a bridge. y/n found herself wondering what he was thinking, what stories were tucked away in that notebook of his.

“so,” she said eventually, her voice soft, “if you don’t come here often, where do you usually go?”

he hesitated, his fingers idly tapping the edge of the notebook. “the field. or home.”

“not much of an explorer, huh?”

“not really.”

“well,” she said, her tone brightening, “i'm no dora but if you ever feel like venturing out, i know a all the good spots. i mean, i do live here since i was three, and i do work here now, so you’ll know where to find me.”

seungmin looked at her, his gaze lingering for a moment before he nodded slightly. “okay, but don't take my word for it.”

“already ahead of 'ya!” she beamed.

“y/n!” she heard her friend's voice calling her, it immediately widening her eyes.

“well,” she said, pushing off the shelf and clasping her hands behind her back, quickly “excuse um.. felix.” she clears her throat awkwardly. “i should probably get back to work before felix yells at me, again.”

“you should.”

“i should..”

seungmin huffed softly, shaking his head.

“see you around, car girl,” he corrected quietly, almost to himself.

she froze, turning back to face him. “what did you just call me?”

he looked up, his expression unreadable but his tone steady. “car girl. suits you.”

y/n blinked, her cheeks warming slightly. “i—well—okay. i guess i’ll take it.”

“see you around, mysterious baseball guy,” she said, flashing him a playful grin as she started to walk away. “what? you get what you give.”

he raised an eyebrow. “mysterious baseball guy, really?”

she grinned. “well, you called me ‘car girl,’ didn’t you? it’s only fair.”

he shook his head, but there was the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips as he replied, “sure. see you, car girl.”

and for the first time, as she walked back to the front desk, she felt like something between them had shifted—softly, subtly, but undeniably.

she turned again, her heart fluttering inexplicably as she walked back to the front desk. felix raised an eyebrow as she returned, but she waved him off, not ready to explain the strange, quiet boy sitting by the window.

seungmin stayed where he was, his pen hovering over the open page of his notebook. slowly, deliberately, he wrote,

car girl.

the air outside the convenience store carried a faint chill, the kind that hinted at winter’s slow approach. y/n stepped out, balancing the plastic bag of groceries on her hip while holding her phone in her other hand. the sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky a gradient of pale blue and deep indigo, and the streetlights had just started flickering on.

she didn’t notice it at first, not until she heard a faint whimper. a stray puppy. it was small, shivering by the edge of the pavement, its thin brown fur offering little protection against the cool evening air.

“oh, you poor baby,” she murmured, immediately setting down her bags and crouching to its level. the pup looked up at her with wary eyes, its ears pinned back, but it didn’t run.

“hey, it’s okay,” she said softly, reaching out a hand. “i won’t hurt you.”

the puppy sniffed cautiously before stepping closer, its small tail wagging hesitantly. she smiled, her heart melting as she stroked its head gently.

“you must be starving,” she said, trying to converse with the dog, glancing at the convenience store behind her. you can call her idiotic, but hey, she's a sunshine! “wait here, okay? i’ll get you something.”

she straightened, leaving the groceries by the curb as she darted back inside. when she returned a few minutes later, she had a packet of wet dog food and a disposable bowl. she opened the packet, her fingers fumbling slightly in her hurry, and poured the food into the bowl.

“there you go,” she said, setting it down.

the puppy sniffed the bowl before diving in, eating with the kind of desperation that made her chest ache.

“slow down, buddy,” she said gently, laughing softly. “it’s not going anywhere.”

as she watched the puppy eat, she pulled out one of the ice creams that she'd got from the cvs, peeling the lid off and taking a small bite. the cold sweetness melted on her tongue, and for a moment, she let herself enjoy the simple pleasure of the moment.

“y/n?”

the familiar voice startled her, and she turned quickly, her eyes widening as she spotted seungmin standing a few feet away. he had his hands in the pockets of his jacket, his baseball cap pulled low, and his expression was unreadable as always.

“seungmin?” she said, blinking. “what are you doing here?”

“could ask you the same thing,” he replied, stepping closer, crouching down beside her. his eyes flicked to the puppy, which was still happily eating. “who's this?”

“well, a stray,” she said, brushing her hands on her skirt as she still stood crouched. “i found it shivering out here. couldn’t just leave it.”

he crouched down, studying the puppy with quiet interest. “you have a thing for strays, don’t you?”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“first a stray guy, now a stray pup,” he said, glancing up at her with a faint smirk.

“are you calling yourself a stray? am i hearing you right? also- you're not.. stray, you’re just selectively social.” y/n blinked before laughing, her cheeks warming slightly.

“is that what you’re calling it?” he muttered, but his tone was light.

“well, maybe, i just have a thing for dog-like people.”

“are you calling me a dog?”

“yes. i mean- no, but yeah! i mean, look at you. your side profile looks like one of an adorable dog's.”

“so first you call me a dog, and second, you're calling me cute?”

“did i stutter?”

“bold.”

“no, just truthful.”

the puppy finished eating and looked up at seungmin, its tail wagging tentatively. he reached out a hand, letting it sniff him before scratching behind its ears.

“cute,” he said simply, glancing over to her then back at the puppy, his voice soft.

y/n smiled, watching the scene unfold. there was something about the way he moved, so careful and deliberate, that made her heart feel strange.

“do you a dog of your own at home?”

“what makes you say that?”

“you're petting it well, like a true owner.” she grinned, shrugging. “or is it just your dog-like instincts, after all you are interacting with your kind.”

“if you don't stop-”

then came a tiny bark, from the puppy, looking at the two as they turned their heads.

“what? don't tell me you want more?”

woof.

one cvs pet-cup later.

“i got ice cream,” she said after a moment, holding up the second ice cream cup. “want some?”

he glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “ice cream? in this weather?”

“it’s never the wrong time for ice cream,” she said firmly. “besides, i got chocolate. don’t tell me you don’t like chocolate.”

“i don’t dislike it,” he said, standing and taking the cup from her. “thanks.”

they stood side by side, leaning against the railing by the curb as they ate. the dog lay down at their feet, looking content for the first time that evening.

“so,” y/n said, breaking the comfortable silence. “what brings you out here?”

“groceries,” he said, nodding toward a small bag he’d set down earlier.

“for your family?”

“my dorm-mate and i,” he said simply, taking a small bite of the ice cream.

“oh, i see, you're a good friend and dorm-mate then, huh?” she teased, nudging him lightly with her elbow.

he shrugged, his expression unreadable. “i can't cook without burning the kitchen down and i owe the guy for cooking everytime.”

“you baseball types are all the same.”

“excuse me?”

“my grandpa used to be on a big player back in the day, and surprise surprise, he can't cook for a living either.”

“hey, it's called a skill. you can't balance two at once, can you?”

“i cook the best stews, well after my grandma. and i'm a commerce student.”

“it differs each person.”

“whatever you say, baseball guy.”

they fell into silence again, the kind that felt less like an absence of words and more like an understanding. y/n finished her ice cream and bent down to pick up the empty dog bowl, her cardigan slipping off one shoulder in the process.

seungmin’s gaze flickered to her then, lingering for a moment longer than it should have. the way her hair fell loosely around her face, the way her eyes softened as she looked at the pup—it was a kind of beauty that felt unassuming, effortless.

when she straightened and caught him staring, he looked away quickly, his ears turning slightly pink beneath his cap.

“you’re quiet again,” she said, tilting her head. “what’s on your mind?”

“nothing,” he said quickly, his voice a little too sharp.

she didn’t press, though she smiled knowingly. “you’re hard to figure out, you know that?”

“good,” he muttered, finishing the last of his ice cream.

she laughed, the sound light and musical. “well, i think i’m getting there. slowly but surely.”

the puppy yawned, curling up at their feet, and y/n crouched down again, running a hand over its back. “you think it has a home?” she asked softly.

“doesn’t look like it,” seungmin said, his tone quieter now.

“i wish i could take it in,” she said, her voice tinged with sadness. “but my grandparents… i know they’d be thrilled about a puppy in the house, but they're already busy to take care of it. and i have uni.”

he didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the dog. “it’s lucky you found it,” he said after a moment. “not everyone would stop.”

she looked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “i guess i just can’t help it,” she said with a small smile. “things like this make me… happy, you know? helping.”

he met her gaze then, his dark eyes steady. “yeah. i can see that.”

for a moment, neither of them spoke, the world around them fading into the background. it was just the two of them, the quiet, and the warmth of something unspoken but undeniable.

“well,” y/n said eventually, breaking the spell, “i should probably get this little guy to a shelter or something.”

“i’ll come with you,” seungmin said, his voice firm.

she blinked. “are you seriously offering to hang out with me?”

“i want to help the puppy. you're just a.. plus one deal.” he said, cutting her off.

“yeah, right.” her cheeks warmed again, but she nodded, her smile soft. “okay. let’s go.”

as they walked down the quiet street, the dog trotting happily between them, y/n found herself stealing glances at seungmin. for all his gruffness and quiet ways, there was something about him that made her want to know more.

and though he didn’t say much, the way his gaze softened when he looked at her made her think he felt the same.

the streetlights cast a warm glow as y/n and seungmin walked side by side, the stray dog happily trotting between them. the soft hum of the town at night—distant cars, the faint buzz of streetlights—filled the silence. it wasn’t uncomfortable, though; it felt like the kind of quiet you could sink into, where words weren’t necessary but still welcome.

she pulled her phone out of her pocket, glancing at the time. “i should call my grandparents. let them know i’ll be a bit late.”

seungmin looked at her briefly, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. “you don’t have to explain to me.”

she smirked at his dry tone. “well, i wasn’t asking for permission, mr. quiet.”

he huffed softly, his version of a laugh, and she pressed the call button.

the phone barely rang before a warm, slightly teasing voice came through. “y/n, where are you? you said you’d be back by now.”

“sorry, grandpa! i got caught up with something. i’ll explain when i get back.”

her grandfather’s voice softened. “caught up, huh? does this ‘something’ involve a certain baseball boy?”

her face burned instantly, and she shot seungmin a quick glance. thankfully, he seemed entirely focused on the dog. “gramps!” she hissed into the phone, her voice barely above a whisper.

“what?” her grandfather replied, feigning innocence. “i’m just asking.”

“you're impossible,” she muttered, her cheeks still warm. “and no, this has nothing to do with him. i just—uh—found a puppy. a stray. i’m taking it to a shelter.”

“a stray puppy? and you’re walking around this late?”

“i’m fine, grandpa,” she reassured him quickly. “i’m not alone.”

the pause on the other end of the line was telling. then, her grandmother's voice came instead, even more excited. “so, it is the baseball boy! isn’t it?”

“i'll see you later, gramma!” she said quickly, her voice rising slightly in embarrassment.

“hey! be safe. and bring the puppy if the shelter doesn’t take it.”

she hung up, letting out a deep sigh and pinching the bridge of her nose.

“trouble?” seungmin asked, his tone casual but curious.

“not really,” she said, slipping her phone back into her pocket. “my grandparents just… like to tease me.”

“about what?”

she hesitated, biting her lip. “nothing important.”

his gaze flicked to her, one brow raised, but he didn’t press further.

instead, she changed the subject. “so, are you always this grumpy, or is it just for me?”

he scoffed lightly, his lips twitching in what might’ve been the start of a smile. “i’m not grumpy.”

“you’re totally grumpy,” she said, grinning. “but it’s okay. i like grumpy.”

“i’m not grumpy,” he repeated, a little more defensively this time.

“sure you’re not,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

the puppy barked softly, as if in agreement, and she laughed. “see? even he thinks you’re grumpy.”

seungmin sighed, shaking his head. “you talk a lot, you know that?”

“yeah,” she said easily, glancing up at him. “but you don’t talk enough, so it balances out.”

he didn’t respond, but the corners of his mouth quirked up ever so slightly.

they walked a little further before she spoke again, her voice quieter now. “do you think anyone will adopt him?”

seungmin glanced down at the pup, whose tail wagged happily as it walked between them. “maybe. he’s small. cute. people like that.”

she nodded thoughtfully, a small smile playing on her lips. “i hope so. he deserves a good home.”

“why didn’t you just take him in?” he asked, his tone more curious than critical.

she shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “i told you, i have uni and my grandparents are already a bit busy and need rest, you know.”

“would you keep him if you had a sitter for the time you were unavailable?”

“in a heartbeat,” she said without hesitation. “but… i don’t know. maybe someday, when i have my own place.”

he nodded, falling silent again.

“what about you?” she asked after a moment. “would you ever get a puppy?”

“maybe,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “if i had time for one, but two of my friends already have dogs, so i guess it is enough for me.”

“you don't seem like a dog person, but i bet you are.” she teased.

“why not?”

she tilted her head, pretending to think. “i don’t know. you’re just… too serious. dogs are all about fun and chaos.”

“and you think i’m not fun?”

“i know you’re not fun,”

his smirk widened, just a fraction. “you don’t know me that well.”

“maybe not,” she admitted, her voice softening. “but i’d like to.”

he glanced at her then, his expression unreadable. the streetlights caught the gold in her eyes, and for a moment, he felt something strange in his chest—something warm and unsettling all at once.

before he could figure out what to say, the dog barked again, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“we’re almost there,” she said, pointing to the shelter just ahead.

seungmin nodded, his hands tightening slightly in his pockets.

as they reached the shelter’s entrance, she bent down to give the pup one last pat. “you’re gonna be okay, buddy,” she murmured. “they’ll take good care of you.”

seungmin watched her quietly, his gaze lingering on the way her fingers moved gently over the pup's fur, the way her smile softened even further.

and when she looked up at him, her eyes bright and full of hope, he couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, she was starting to figure him out after all.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily thank you luvie <3

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 1

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2])

wow this is another difficult one to go through. okay. okay.

it's been 57 years since we saw agatha kill her mother and the salemites - agatha should now be around 74, 75. how many of those years has she spent with rio? even if they met right away, that is a comparatively short time considering their long lives (rio's especially) and the almost 300 years they stayed separated afterwards.

the first thing we notice about the scene: just how damn green it is.

the forest and the river - rio, nature, is everywhere.

we're not told why agatha is running, but the obvious answer is that she is running from rio. she's in her shift, she was probably in their bed in the little cabin in the woods going through labor. and then rio told her that nicky was going to be stillborn and, in typical agatha fashion, she bolted, she tried to buy time, to bargain, to outrun the inevitable. but nature is all around, engulfing her. trying to escape is futile.

I so appreciate how bloody this scene is but I can't watch it, it's too much. she's run as far as she could, but the baby is coming now. she bites on a lemon and pushes. no family, no coven, no midwife. the one person in her corner, rio, has betrayed her.

that shot of rio so small between the trees, and yet the same exact color as the leaves? both one tiny person and the very essence of nature everywhere? I've got chills.

rio has brought her orchid so you know how serious the situation is. and I believe the costume department called this a shepherdess outfit? she chose this gentle look to guide nicky's little innocent soul to the other side.

you need to look at plaza's acting closely in this scene because while agatha's pain is on full display, raw and open, rio is keeping her pain close to her chest, she has no other choice. she swallows, she shakes her head ever so slightly. agatha is shaking her head too, completely and utterly devastated.

Rio walks closer, strong determined steps that don't match how difficult she's finding it to speak. her face contracts with pain before she smooths it back in a neutral expression. she shrugs a little, so small and apologetic. remember how formidable she was with alice, how clear she made it look that there was no escape? she can't quite bring herself to do that here.

you know by now what it means when agatha clutches her chest like that. you've seen her poor heart.

she licks her lips, she straighten up, vicious, ready to go into battle, ready to bite and hurt and beg and do everything, everything in her power to save nicky. we get this scene at the very end, when we know agatha and rio and their dynamic so intimately, and it's so easy to read what's happening. agatha will never go down with dignity, she'll fight till her last breath.

rio gives the tiniest of nods, she takes a deep breath. she knows agatha so well, she didn't expect anything less. while agatha is all over the place, rio is so still. her eyes are huge, and there's one stubborn tear that she's not allowing to fall. this has always been their dynamic - agatha's pain is too overwhelming, it engulfs all, there's no containing it. rio has to be strong and wise for the two of them.

this is rio losing her wife and child in one tragic swoop. this is rio being cast as the villain that took nicky's life.

this is futile. we can't fight Death.

oh, but she will try. she's been trying since we've known her. since she killed that poor dog to see if wanda could do something about it.

Death makes her decision.

not only does the grim reaper refuses to reap a soul. for the first time in all of history, she actively uses her magic to stop someone from dying. it goes against everything she stands for, and it's ultimately useless, because not even the power of the greatest Green Witch can heal nicky, she can only delay the inevitable. but she does it anyway, because she loves agatha too much. even if she knows perfectly well that she's just lost her forever.

rio is apparently impassible, but look closer: her nostrils are flaring, her jaw is trembling. if rio can't kill, by logic she can't generate life either. not that she's not able to - she's not allowed to, because she needs to be impartial. because if she lets herself fall in love with someone, it might just happen that their child will be stillborn in 18th century nowhere, massachusetts and Death might not be able to be selfless and impartial about it.

and then bye bye, sacred balance.

who the fuck came up with this story? and made it about lesbians, too? was it you, jac? I don't know if I want to kiss you or scream at you.

agatha doesn't recognize the world-shattering decision, the unprecedented sacrifice rio has just made for her. she can only think about nicky. how much time has she won? a day? a month? ten years? not knowing is torture.

and look, this is agatha, selfish to her very core. but can you blame her? can you feel anything but infinite pity and understanding for her at this moment? who is even to blame here? agatha, a mother begging for her child's life? rio going against every law and everything she believes in to give her beloveds one fleeting moment of reprieve?

there is no one to blame, not even nature - it has no concept of tragedy. (now that I think about it, agatha is the only person in history who could ever made nature feel.)

you did it, agatha, you made Death go away. you made your choice. it's you and nicky now.

oh god, kathryn, don't make that face. it's too much.

I spoke no spell, I said no incantation, you were made from scratch. the utter beauty that is agatha, the witch killer, the master of spells and craft, creating a baby (almost) the old fashioned way - the magic of life that no spell could ever improve.

this is agatha claiming nicky as hers. not rio's, only hers. she sought to have him for arguably selfish but deeply human reasons: because she needed to prove her mother wrong. because she wanted someone who would love her unquestioningly, unconditionally. because she was so, so lonely, and rio alone couldn't fill the chasm in her heart. she wanted her coven to grow from two to three, but looks like it's coven two again: her whole happiness is once again tied to only one person.

the little feetsies!

this shot, dear lord. green leaves and water taking over.

this entry was a lot. I need a hug.

go to episode 9 part 2

[supercrazyangel4]

The thing I've always loved most about aa4 is how much darker the tone is than the rest of the series in a way that isn't just edgy for the sake of it, but subverts your expectations from the original 3 games in a really interesting way. The trilogy was built upon the trust Phoenix had in others, and it was something we as players could almost always feel certain in. AA4 flips this on its head and makes it so Apollo effectively can't trust anyone but himself.

Your mentor, who the in the trilogy was a paragon of wisdom you could always turn to no matter what, gets revealed to be the culprit and sent to jail in the first trial and by the end of the game his list of crimes has stacked high but you still have so few answers on why he did any of it.

Your boss, the goofy protagonist of the trilogy, is now inexplicably a washed-up, disgraced, cheating poker player with an implied drinking problem who seemingly found a new hobby in evidence forgery and jury rigging.

He has a codependent relationship with his daughter, your assistant, who usually is a completely innocent and hapless victim of circumstance. She sees herself as the provider for the house and will help her father cheat at poker, or forge evidence, or guilt trip the poor attorney they knowingly screwed of out of a job into working for them for dirt cheap.

The detective, the only other returning main character, a previous assistant, is completely changed since we last saw her. In the trilogy she was chipper and bright despite the hardships she faced, and now she's unfriendly and burned out, turned bitter by the world. The scene we're first properly introduced to her in Apollo genuinely spends several minutes thinking his boss is making him bribe her with cocaine.

Every single defendant is a criminal guilty of something other than what they're charged for. Each case centers around an underground black-market poker ring, a mafia family and medical malpractice, a smuggling ring, and a family of forgers and an incredibly shady troupe of magicians. The one thing all of these people have in common is that none of them will tell you literally anything about what's happening, half of them clearly reveling in being as big of cryptic assholes as possible.

The only person who doesn't fit this description is, for once, the prosecutor. Usually your biggest obstacle and the most morally corrupt of the main cast, he's the only person who's both 100% on the side of truth and on the same page as you for the entire game. He's just as clueless as you, being used nothing more than a chess piece just like you are.

But the truly masterful thing about AA4 is how morally grey it is. These characters aren't just one note villains. They're not even villains at all. Most of them aren't even malicious.

Your boss, for all the low levels he stoops to, is underneath it all the same guy he's always been, doing everything he can to bring a criminal to justice and protect his family. Your assistant is a sweet girl who truly cares about you, she's just prioritizing herself and her fathers safety before anything else. The detective is the same passionate and kind woman under everything else. The rest of the defendants are genuinely well-meaning young people who got involved in shady stuff they didn't fully understand.

The game is filled with good people trying to make the best of bad circumstances. The game has just as many fun moments as the original trilogy. For all it's rough appearance, the game has a similar heart. For every unanswered question or unrighted wrong, there's a smile or a hope for a better future. For every bad action, there's usually someone trying their best behind it. The game is melancholic and dark, but isn't afraid to let good shine through. It knows there's no shadows without the light.

[inconveniently-discorporated]

Today it's time for me to be heartbroken about Crowley and HIS version of events, because of course HIS version makes sense to him too.

The thing about Crowley is, he acts so nonchalant about everything.

Like, at first, he's simply just a demon. Sauntered vaguely downward and such, it's barely even really a thing, honestly -- it's just sort of his job title, y'know? Aziraphale's in one department, he's in another, that's just how it is. Like satanists, right?

But then the more the story progresses, the more we get the sense that there's something deeper than that. It becomes especially apparent with his plants, and how he puts the fear of God (then corrected by the narrator: the fear of Crowley) in them.

And these scenes, as many of you well know, have been theorized to be Crowley working through the circumstances of his fall. Projecting his emotions onto the plants, inflicting on them what was done to him. Processing what it was like to be on the other side of the curtain, maybe -- possibly try to figure out what could drive a creator to harm their own creations.

The details of the fall and what Crowley did, exactly, are unclear. The details of what Crowley knows about his own fall are unclear, because evidence could suggest that maybe he doesn't remember. But his perception seems to be that it didn't take much to be a demon.

What he does know, is that nothing lasts forever -- not even the grace of God.

But Aziraphale is different.

Aziraphale is an angel with very black-and-white ideas of what it means to be an angel, and what it means to be a demon.

But Crowley sees through it. From giving away the sword alone, he sees the cracks in Aziraphale's rigid thinking that allows the light to shine through. And he chips and he chips at that thinking -- he asks the kind of questions that probably made him fall in the first place -- until finally we get here.

God saw Crowley at his most innocent. God saw Crowley at his most joyful state of being. God saw him at his holiest.

God heard his questions, likely knowing that Crowley was expressing love in the way that he would want to receive it. Crowley says, "Well, if I was the one running it all, I would like it if someone asked questions. Fresh point of view."

God knew all of this, and then cast him out anyway. Unforgivable, that's what he is. Not to be forgiven, ever. Not to be loved -- not by God.

Then here comes along this angel (who he may or may not remember). This angel knows he's a demon, and talks to him anyway. This angel knows he's a demon, and listens to what he has to say. This angel knows he's a demon, and still looks him in the eye, sees the good in him, and forcefully tells him that HE still sees the good in him, even when God refuses to.

Aziraphale sees everything in Crowley that God could not, and that is something Crowley thought was lost forever.

So it only makes sense that when Aziraphale first burst in with his words all aflutter at the idea that they were going to go back to Heaven and change everything, Crowley felt this was something they couldn't do. Because he understands better than anyone, Heaven has the power to change the angel, the angel does not have the power to change Heaven.

It makes sense that Crowley gave him a chance. Crowley didn't exactly erupt with rage at Aziraphale. Yes, he was loudly against the idea and very disappointed, but then he goes, "Oh. Oh God. Right. Okay. I didn't get a chance to say what I was going to say, I better say it now."

He still thinks there's a chance. He's still giving Aziraphale a chance to back out.

He gives Aziraphale multiple chances. And every time Aziraphale will not back down. Every time, he thinks he hears the same message. The one he's always heard, the one he should know by now but somehow still hopes it isn't true.

Nothing lasts forever.

Not the universal star machine.

Not the grace of God.

Not the bookshop.

Not my acceptance of who you are.

Not us.

He doesn't hear the way Aziraphale remembers his joy and wants him to be happy. He doesn't hear how Aziraphale wants him and needs him and begs for him to be on his side. He doesn't hear the hope and the desire to be safe and together and in control -- forever.

He doesn't hear the way Aziraphale is lying to himself because we all know damn well he would live in a state of comfortable happiness if he could.

Instead, he hears this.

He hears that he is in need of forgiveness. He hears that he has done something to warrant it.

Only, he is unforgivable. Nothing lasts forever, but maybe that part does. Out of everything that never lasted, the one that did is that he is unforgivable the way that he is.

"Don't bother," he says.

Don't bother, because he doesn't hear Aziraphale, he hears God.

Don't bother, because maybe God was right.

[msriri030]

Saving By Hare Pt2: The Love Doctor

Mafia!König x Doctor! Reader

Cw: mention torture and drugs. afab!reader but try most to be gn.

Horangi was walking down the hall when his attention was caught by Hutch and Roze standing in front of a one-way mirror. Curiosity piqued, he asked, "What are you up to?"

"Watching the boss torture an enemy underling," Roze replied, her eyes glinting with amusement as Hutch chuckled happily at the scene unfolding before them. 

Raising an eyebrow, Horangi stepped closer to the window. He saw König pacing back and forth, visibly anxious, as he spoke to the enemy, who looked increasingly unsettled. Suddenly, König slammed his hand down on the table, causing the enemy to flinch.

"What’s the torture?" Horangi asked, confusion etched on his face. Hutch smirked, adjusting his shades. "The boss is asking for romantic advice from Deadman."

Horangi sighed, watching König slowly lower himself into the chair across from the captive, his hulking frame almost too large for the delicate wooden seat. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the table, a nervous habit uncharacteristic of the usually imposing man.

The captive, a wiry man with a bloodied nose, looked utterly bewildered. Sweat dripped from his brow as he stammered, “W-why are you asking me? I don’t—I don’t know anything about dating!”

König leaned forward, his icy blue eyes narrowing as he demanded, “Then what do you know about wooing someone? Surely you’ve liked someone before. Speak.”

The man fumbled, glancing toward the one-way mirror in silent desperation, as if pleading for a rescue that would never come.

Roze stifled a laugh, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. “I never thought I’d see the day. Our Big bad Boss, König,…asking a guy who can’t even keep his own teeth in his mouth for advice on romance. This is priceless.”

Hutch let out a low chuckle, pushing his sunglasses up. “The boss is down bad. I mean, look at him—he’s got the guy more scared of giving the wrong pickup line than getting shot.”

Inside the room, König pinched the bridge of his nose, visibly frustrated with the captive's nonsensical answers. The poor man was a stuttering mess, rattling off clichés like, ‘Buy them flowers,’ and ‘Compliment their eyes.’

König growled softly, not out of anger, but sheer exasperation. “This is useless.” He stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, causing the captive to flinch again. König loomed over him, arms crossed, his massive frame casting a shadow over the trembling man.

“I don’t need basic advice!” König barked, his voice deep and commanding. “I need something… meaningful. Specific. If you were trying to win someone over—someone kind, strong, and… special—what would you do?”

The captive blinked up at him, wide-eyed and utterly lost. “I—I don’t know! Cook for them? Write them a letter? Please, man, I don’t even have a girlfriend!”

Horangi, watching from the other side of the glass, finally sighed and turned to Hutch and Roze. “This is pathetic. Should we step in before he kills the guy with his awkwardness?”

“Nah,” Hutch replied with a grin. “This is better than TV. Besides, it’s not like the guy’s bleeding out or anything.”

Roze tilted her head, feigning innocence. “You think König will actually take advice from someone who’s tied to a chair?”

Before Horangi could respond, König’s voice boomed again, shaking the room with its intensity.

"Write what, exactly?" He leaned in closer to the captive, who was now shaking like a leaf. "Give me something better than 'flowers' or 'letters,' or I will personally—" He caught himself, exhaling sharply and stepping back, muttering under his breath in frustration.

The captive, desperate to avoid whatever fate his imagination was conjuring, blurted out, "S-surprise them! Do something unexpected! Something only you would do! Something that shows y-you’re thinking about them!"

König paused, straightening to his full height. His imposing shadow loomed even larger over the man as he stared down at him with piercing eyes. Slowly, a glimmer of realization crossed König’s face. He said nothing for a long moment, then gave a curt nod, muttering, “Hmm. Yes. That’s… something.”

The captive sagged in his chair, relief washing over him as König turned abruptly and made for the door.

From behind the glass, Roze covered her mouth to keep from laughing. “I swear to God, he’s going to come back tomorrow with a dozen roses and a poem, isn’t he?”

Hutch snorted, shaking his head. “If he writes a poem, I’m retiring. I’ve seen enough for one lifetime.”

Horangi groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is ridiculous. I’m going to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid… like kidnapping them instead of asking them on a date.”

The door to the interrogation room slammed open as König stepped out, his gaze distant, as if he were already lost in thought. He brushed past the group without a word, his broad shoulders rigid and his stride purposeful.

“Yup,” Roze said with a smirk, watching him disappear down the hall. “He’s definitely writing a poem.”

Hutch clapped Horangi on the back. “Good luck keeping him out of trouble. You’re going to need it.”

Horangi sighed again, glancing toward the interrogation room before reluctantly following after König. “This better not end with me having to talk him out of some overly dramatic romantic gesture…”

As the door clicked shut behind him, Roze and Hutch exchanged a look before bursting into laughter, their amusement echoing through the observation room.

It had been a couple of weeks since you last saw König. The memory of that night lingered in your mind, resurfacing at the most unexpected moments. You found yourself wondering—was his wound healing properly? Had he taken care of himself?

The thought gnawed at you as you went about your day, your hands busy with patients, but your mind elsewhere. You had done everything you could to stabilize him that night, yet the worry persisted. Men like him, with their dangerous lives and stoic fronts, weren’t the type to follow medical advice.

You sighed softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face as you closed your clinic for the evening to grab some lunch. The streets were quiet, the crisp winter air biting against your cheeks as you locked the door behind you. You paused for a moment, glancing down the empty street, the faint glow of streetlights casting long shadows.

Was he okay? The question echoed in your mind again, and you shook your head with a small, self-deprecating smile. Why do I even care so much?

But deep down, you knew the answer. There had been something in König’s eyes that night—something that stuck with you. A vulnerability beneath the ice, a fleeting glimpse of someone who, for all his sharp edges and danger, carried a burden far heavier than any physical wound.

And now, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was just okay in general. You groan in frustration kicking a discarded can. Why?! You just met the man. You sighed. You look at the sky a little bit to ground yourself before continuing along your way.  You entered your favorite dinner, Dash out.

The warm, familiar hum of Dash Out greeted you as you stepped inside. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, a sharp contrast to the biting chill outside. You waved to the staff behind the counter, giving them a tired but genuine smile.

Sliding into a booth near the window, you let out a long sigh and leaned back against the worn vinyl. This was your safe haven—a place where the stress of the day melted away with every sip of coffee or bite of a greasy burger.

A waitress approached, her name tag reading Lisa, her smile as warm as ever. “The usual?”

You nodded. “Please.”

Lisa scribbled on her notepad, her gaze flickering to your face with a touch of curiosity. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind. Long day?”

“Yeah,” you admitted with a small laugh. “Something like that.”

Lisa gave you a knowing nod before walking off, leaving you to your thoughts. You stared out the window, watching the soft, lazy flakes of snow drift down, the streetlights casting a warm, amber glow over the quiet street. Your reflection stared back at you, and for a moment, you barely recognized the furrowed brow and distant eyes.

Your food arrived swiftly, the plate settling in front of you with a soft clink. A classic burger, fries, and a steaming cup of hot cocoa—comfort food at its finest. Lisa let you know the pie was on the house. You took a bite, hoping the familiar taste would provide some distraction, but your thoughts kept drifting back to him.

The sound of the diner door opening pulled you from your reverie. You glanced up absently, expecting nothing more than another weary worker grabbing a late meal or perhaps a family seeking warmth from the biting cold outside.

But before you could focus on it, a pair of warm, calloused hands gently covered your eyes, halting your sip mid-air. A playful, familiar Scottish lilt followed. “Guess who it is, lass?”

You couldn’t suppress a smile, a soft laugh escaping as you tilted your head slightly. “Soap,” you said, the word slipping out with amused certainty.

The hands pulled away with a chuckle, and there he was—grinning like a kid who’d just pulled off the world’s greatest prank. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned casually against the booth.

Next to him, Ghost stood silently, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the cheerful exchange. He rolled his eyes and scoffed under his breath before turning toward the counter, his gait purposeful as he went to collect the protection money for their boss.

You giggled, glancing back at Soap. “I see you brought Ghost with you on your rounds.”

“Yup, Doc,” Soap said, scratching the back of his neck with mock exasperation. “Didn’t want to, but you know—gangster life’s no walk in the park.” His grin widened, as if the admission didn’t carry the weight it should have.

Before you could respond, Lisa returned, balancing a tray with your pie. She set the plate in front of you with a warm smile. “Enjoy, honey,” she said before bustling off to tend to another table.

“Thanks, Lisa.” You glanced at Soap and tilted the plate slightly in his direction, your voice teasing. “Want some, Soap? Or is gangster life too glamorous for diner fries?”

“Never! That’s like forgetting the roots you came from!” Soap declared dramatically, as if you’d just suggested the unthinkable. “Plus, I love sharing fries with the person who’s saved our arses more times than I can count!”

Without waiting for an invitation, he plopped himself down in the seat across from you, stealing a fry with a triumphant grin.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his antics. As Soap munched happily, Ghost returned from the counter, his dark gaze flicking between the two of you before settling on Soap with a mix of amusement and quiet disapproval.

You looked up at Ghost with a smile, gesturing toward the plate of fries you were now sharing. “Want some?” you offered lightly.

He shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips under his mask as he slid into the booth beside you. “No thanks, Doll,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. “I’ll leave the fry-stealing to him.”

Soap, mid-bite, pointed a fry at Ghost. “That’s because you’re no fun, mate.”

Ghost gave him a sidelong glance, muttering, “I’m plenty fun. Just not when it comes to your greasy fingers all over the food.”

The banter made you smile as you picked up another fry, savoring the rare moment of levity amid the chaos their lives seemed to attract. It was hard not to think back to when you first met them. Soap had stormed into your clinic, practically kicking the door down, with Ghost slung over his back and bleeding profusely.

You’d barely had time to process their arrival before Soap started barking orders—half panicked, half determined. Ghost, even in his weakened state, had muttered something about "not scaring the doc." It had been a whirlwind of blood, adrenaline, and sharp commands, but you’d patched Ghost up, and from that moment on, the two had made you an unspoken part of their world.

Since then, they’d drop by every so often—not just for patch-ups, though those were frequent—but also to walk you home after late nights at the clinic or during their rounds collecting protection money for their boss. You knew the line of work they were in was dangerous, but you couldn’t deny the strange sense of security you felt whenever they were around.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Soap said, snapping you out of your thoughts as he stole another fry. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just remembering how we met,” you said with a small smile, glancing between him and Ghost. “And how you two basically barged into my life like a hurricane.”

Soap grinned, unrepentant. “Aye, but a good hurricane, right?”

Ghost shook his head, muttering, “More like a bloody disaster.”

You laughed softly, their easy camaraderie a welcome reprieve from the weight of your own thoughts. Likewise, your presence seemed to brighten their otherwise cold and chaotic world, though they’d never outright admit it. Yet the way they smiled at you in that unspoken, rare softness said enough.

After finishing your meal, the three of you stepped outside into the biting cold. They insisted on walking you back to the clinic—something they’d done countless times before. As the chill seeped into your bones, you tugged your jacket tighter around yourself, but it wasn’t enough to keep the cold at bay.

Ghost noticed, his sharp eyes catching the subtle shiver you tried to hide. Without a word, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. The material was heavy, smelling faintly of leather and a hint of something clean and woodsy.

“Here, Doll,” he murmured, his voice low but kind in its gruffness.

“No, I—It’s okay,” you stammered, feeling a bit flustered by the gesture. “We’re not far from the clinic. You’ll be cold.”

You tried to hand the jacket back, but Soap looped an arm around your shoulders with a grin, stopping you in your tracks.

“And let our favorite doc get sick?” he teased, his tone playful but firm. “Never! Ghost and I have seen enough blood for one lifetime, thank you very much. Now let’s get to the clinic, warm up with some tea, and then we’ll handle the rest of our business.”

You rolled your eyes with a fond smile but didn’t argue. Wrapped in Ghost’s jacket and flanked by the two men, you felt a sense of safety you didn’t often experience. As you walked, the quiet of the night was punctuated by the soft crunch of boots on snow and Soap’s endless chatter about everything and nothing.

For a moment, as the warm glow of the clinic’s lights came into view, you let yourself forget about the dangers that lurked in their world—and your own. The three of you entered the clinic, the familiar scent of antiseptic and faint lavender welcoming you like an old friend. Without hesitation, you all made your way to the break room, a cozy little space you had managed to make feel homier despite the sterile surroundings.

Soap, ever the ball of energy, immediately busied himself grabbing three mugs from the cupboard. “Tea’s on me!” he declared, his enthusiasm almost infectious as he examined the mismatched cups with mock seriousness.

Meanwhile, you filled the kettle, setting it to boil. You handed Ghost his jacket back, and he took it with a quiet nod, draping it over the back of a chair before sitting down. His tall frame seemed oddly at ease in the tiny space, though his ever-watchful gaze remained sharp, flicking from you to Soap and back again.

“Thanks for lending this,” you said softly, glancing at Ghost as you adjusted your sweater.

He gave a slight shrug, his mask concealing any hint of a smile, though his tone held the barest trace of warmth. “Didn’t want you catching cold. You’d be no use to anyone if you’re laid up sick.”

Soap turned around with a playful grin, balancing the mugs in one hand while gesturing dramatically with the other. “See, Doc? That’s as close to a love letter as Ghost will ever get. Cherish it!”

“Don’t push your luck, Soap,” Ghost muttered, though his voice lacked any real bite.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you set the tea bags into the mugs Soap had placed on the counter. Once the water was ready, you poured it carefully, the steam rising and curling in the air. The quiet hum of the kettle, the clink of ceramic, and the shared companionship filled the small room with a sense of peace that felt rare in their chaotic world

 The phone's shrill ring sliced through the comfortable quiet like a blade, cutting Soap off mid-sentence and making Ghost’s gaze sharpen instantly. Pulling the phone from your pocket, you glanced at the screen. The number was vaguely familiar, but as a doctor, you were accustomed to unexpected calls from patients in need.

With a soft sigh, you answered, balancing the phone between your shoulder and ear as you continued preparing the tea. “Hello, this is Dr. [Last Name]. How can I help you?”

A beat of silence stretched on the other end, broken only by faint, shallow breathing. A chill prickled at the back of your neck. Something about it felt wrong.

“Hello?” you repeated, this time with more authority.

The voice that finally responded was shaky, almost desperate. “Hase? Is this... is this you?”

You froze, your heart skipping a beat as the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. “König? Yes, it’s me.”

You didn’t notice Soap’s eyes widened or Ghost’s gaze turned cold as they recognized the name. König—the mob boss who controlled half the city and the territory just down the street from your clinic. A heavy silence hung in the air before the voice whispered, almost painfully, “Yes, it’s König, my Hase.”

You felt a warmth flush your cheeks, but you quickly brushed it aside, forcing your expression to remain neutral. “What can I do for you?”

There was a brief silence, the sound of steady breathing on the other end before König’s voice returned—tentative, yet edged with a quiet urgency. “I was wondering… if I could take you to dinner tonight at the Diamond Petals. Or tomorrow, if you’re not working. As a thank you… for everything.”  

The request hung in the air, unexpected. Dinner at such a fancy restaurant? You smiled, a soft giggle escaping. “Yeah… I’d love to have dinner with you. Maybe tomorrow, though—I’ll need to shop for new clothes. I don’t have anything good to wear.”  

“Nien,” he replied smoothly, his tone firm yet gentle. “Anything you wear looks like gold.”  

The words, simple yet laced with affection, sent warmth flooding to your cheeks. Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could recover, he added, “What about I pick you up and take you shopping for clothes?”  

His suggestion caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were speechless, your mind racing to process the unexpected offer. Meanwhile, Ghost and Soap, lingering nearby, exchanged knowing glances. The palpable tension in the air was broken only by the sound of their deliberate throat-clearing, an unsubtle reminder of their presence.  

“Sure,” you finally managed, your voice slightly flustered. “I’ll send you the location of my clinic then… see you later.”  

You ended the call, the phone still warm in your hand as you set it down on the counter. Ghost calmly lifted his mask just over his nose, sipping his tea with deliberate slowness. The corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly, a subtle sign of amusement, while Soap, never one to miss an opportunity, grinned widely.  

“So~ you’ve got yourself a boyfriend now, eh?” Soap teased, leaning against the counter with a cheeky tilt of his head.  

You blushed furiously, waving your hands in protest. “It’s not like that!”  

Soap’s grin widened as Ghost let out a low chuckle. “Aye, Doc. Whatever you say.”  

Meanwhile, König stood in the dimly lit expanse of one of his warehouses, the sharp tang of metal and oil lingering in the air. His broad shoulders were tense, his posture rigid as he turned to the scene behind him. Vega and Roze hovered over their latest victim—a poor drug shipper whose trembling form bore the tattooed mark of the 141 on his neck.  

The man's muffled gasps and splashes filled the room as Vega pressed his head underwater, his grip merciless, while Roze crouched beside them, her dark eyes glinting with cruel amusement. She glanced over her shoulder at König, an arched brow accompanying her mocking tone.  

“So~ what did she say?” Roze asked, her voice dripping with feigned curiosity as she twirled a blade in her hand, its edge catching the faint light.  

König’s gaze flickered to the struggling man for a moment, then back to Roze, his expression unreadable beneath the shadow of his hood. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, though his voice, when he finally spoke, was calm, almost detached.  

“She said yes,” he murmured, the weight of the words carrying an edge that made even Vega glance up from her task.  

Roze grinned, sharp and predatory. “Look at you, big guy. Dinner at the Diamond Petals, huh? Gonna make it all romantic?”  

König’s towering frame shifted slightly as he took a step closer, his boots heavy against the concrete floor. “Focus,” he said, his voice cold enough to make the room feel even icier. “The questions are not for me.”  

Roze’s smirk faltered, and she shrugged, motioning to Vega, who yanked the man’s head back above water with a violent jerk. The shivering victim gasped for air, coughing and sputtering, as König loomed over him, his massive shadow swallowing the man whole.  

“Now,” König said softly, his tone deceptively calm but carrying an undercurrent of menace. “Let’s try this again. Who sent you?”  

After promising Soap and Ghost that you’d text them after your “date,” you closed up your clinic and waved them goodbye. Their knowing smirks lingered in your mind, but you brushed them off, focusing instead on the evening ahead.  

Standing outside in the cool night air, you waited patiently, smoothing down your outfit one more time to make sure everything was perfect.  

Moments later, a sleek, black BMW with tinted windows pulled up to the curb. Your breath caught when König stepped out. Even with his mask on, you could tell he had gone out of his way to prepare for this. His broad frame was wrapped in a perfectly tailored black button-up shirt and slacks, the subtle sheen of his polished shoes catching the light.  

The faint scent of musk and cedar drifted toward you, the unmistakable aroma of freshly applied cologne mingling with the lingering freshness of a recent shower. You couldn’t help but notice the effort he had put in—it was enough to make your heart skip a beat.  

You instinctively sniffed yourself, worried for a fleeting moment about how you smelled. A wave of relief washed over you when you realized you didn’t smell unpleasant—your perfume still lingered, light and floral.  

“Guten Abend,” König greeted, his voice deep and soft as he extended a hand toward you. “You look… breathtaking.”  

Your cheeks warmed at the compliment, and you smiled shyly, taking his hand. “Thank you. You look great too.”  

He held your hand for a moment longer than necessary, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles before he released it and gestured toward the car. “Shall we?”  

You nodded, letting him open the car door for you. As you slid into the plush leather seat, your nerves began to settle, replaced by a growing excitement. Whatever tonight had in store, it was already starting to feel like something special.  

As the car cruised smoothly toward the eastern side of the city, you stole a glance at König. His focus was trained on the road ahead, his large hands gripping the steering wheel with a surprising gentleness. The soft hum of the car’s engine filled the silence between you, and you found yourself nervously fiddling with the ends of your sleeves, wracking your brain for something—anything—to say.

Your gaze drifted out the window in quiet defeat, watching as the snow fell in lazy flakes, blanketing the streets in a serene glow.

Little did you know, König was locked in a similar mental battle. Small talk had never been his strength. Socializing, in general, was a struggle, a deep-seated insecurity born from years of bullying and isolation. Even now, he could still hear the mocking laughter of his classmates, and feel the sting of their taunts. The only reason he’d entered the mafia world was because a mobster had seen him, bloodied but unyielding, defending himself against a particularly cruel bully.

König let out a heavy sigh, the sound breaking the quiet tension in the car and catching your attention.

“Sorry, Liebling,” he muttered, his voice low and tinged with self-consciousness. “I am not... how do you say? Good at starting conversations. Sorry.”

His admission was so earnest, so vulnerable, that it made your chest tighten. You smiled softly, shaking your head.

“Don’t be,” you said, your voice kind. “I’m not that great at it either.”

You hesitated for a moment, then, desperate to keep the conversation going, asked, “What about your wound? Is it healed?”

Your cheeks flushed as soon as the words left your mouth, and you inwardly cringed. Of all things to ask…

König’s head tilted slightly toward you, and even with the mask, you could tell he was surprised—and perhaps a little touched—by your concern.

“It’s much better now,” he said, his tone warming. “Thanks to you.”

You glanced at him, catching the faintest hint of a smile beneath the fabric of his mask. His hand briefly left the steering wheel to tap lightly at his side. “Your stitches—they hold perfectly. You are... very skilled.”

His compliment made your blush deepen, and you ducked your head to hide your smile. “I just did what anyone would do.”

“No,” he replied firmly, his voice softening again. “Not anyone. You cared.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and the comfortable silence between you both felt surprisingly warm. You realized something else now—König had called you Liebling instead of his usual Hase. You couldn’t help but wonder about the change, and the question bubbled up before you could stop it.

“König,” you asked, your curiosity piqued, “What does Hase mean? And... why do you call me that?”

The sudden question seemed to catch König off guard. His face, though still obscured by the mask, darkened in a deep flush. He cleared his throat, a nervous, almost sheepish sound, before turning his attention back to the road as he guided the car into the parking lot of a luxury store.

You watched him closely, waiting for him to speak, the soft hum of the engine accompanying the brief pause.

After a moment, he exhaled, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly as he parked the car. He took a slow breath, as if preparing himself. When he finally spoke, his voice was more measured, quieter than usual.

“It means... rabbit or hare,” he replied, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “I called you that because... when we first met, your doctor’s coat made you look like a white rabbit in winter.”

The words were simple, but the warmth in his tone made your heart flutter. You blinked, surprised, but then a small smile tugged at your lips. The idea of him thinking of you that way—fragile, maybe, but also somehow strong—was endearing.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, your cheeks warming from his unexpected but sweet reasoning. “A white rabbit, huh? That’s... oddly fitting, I think.”

König shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a faint hint of embarrassment in his posture, but there was something soft in his eyes as he glanced over at you. "I think you were my... safe place. Like how a rabbit would always hide in the snow."

His words settled in the car with a quiet, tender weight that was almost too much to process. You didn’t quite know what to say in response, but the gesture—his quiet affection—spoke volumes.

You couldn’t help but rest your head on König’s arm, a soft giggle escaping your lips. “I’m grateful you see me that way,” you murmured, feeling the warmth of his presence. Then, with a playful smile, you added, “If I can say something... you remind me of a bear. You make me feel so safe, and yet, you’re so strong, but gentle too.”

König’s breath caught at your words, and a soft chuckle escaped him, a deep rumble that made your heart flutter. He gently tightened his arm around you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “A bear, huh?” he said, his voice warm and almost teasing. “I can live with that. As long as I’m your bear.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with affection, and smiled. The warmth between you felt unspoken, but it lingered in the air, like a silent promise. As the two of you shared a quiet moment, you stepped out of the car, his hand brushing against yours. Together, you walked towards the entrance of the store, the soft crunch of snow beneath your feet almost drowned out by the beating of your heart.  

You entered the store, the soft chime of the door marking your arrival. At first, the clerks seemed uninterested in you, going about their tasks as if you were just another customer. But when they noticed König holding your hand, their demeanor shifted instantly. Their attention focused on you, and suddenly, they began pulling out the most elegant, expensive dresses, each more beautiful than the last. Yet, despite their efforts, nothing felt quite right. You sighed, feeling a little discouraged.

"Why don’t you look around while I talk to the clerk?" König suggested, noticing the frustration in your expression. You nodded, giving him a small smile, and wandered off, leaving him to converse with the store manager.

As you walked through the store, you couldn’t shake the feeling of hopelessness. Nothing seemed to catch your eye. But then, in the corner of your vision, something shimmered—something that made your heart skip a beat. A black silk off-shoulder gown with a striking collar. The material looked luxurious, the color deep and alluring, and you felt drawn to it immediately.

Without thinking, you walked straight toward it, your fingers grazing the fabric.

A store clerk, noticing your interest, approached with a polite smile. "Would you like to try it on, Miss?"

"Yes, please," you replied, your voice filled with excitement and a touch of hope. You couldn’t wait to see how it would look on you.

When you slipped into the gown, it fit you like a glove. The silk hugged your curves in all the right places, the off-shoulder design showcasing your collarbones beautifully. You turned to face the mirror, admiring the way the gown shimmered under the lights. To complete the look, you added red heels, their bold color a perfect contrast to the black silk, and slipped on a pair of pearl earrings and a matching necklace that the clerk suggested.

As you turned to take in your reflection, you caught a glimpse of König in the mirror. His eyes were locked on you, a look of awe on his face. He stood there, frozen for a moment, his usual confident demeanor replaced with something softer. The intensity in his gaze made your heart race as you smiled shyly at him.

“You look... breathtaking, Hase,” König murmured, his voice low and full of admiration. His words seemed to hang in the air between you, and for a moment, the rest of the world disappeared, leaving only the two of you. 

You blushed, clasping your hands together. “Thank you, König. I think I’ll take it, but I can’t really let you pay for this. It’s… 2,500! Not to mention everything else–”

“It is a gift for saving my life, Meine Liebe,” König said softly, taking your hand and kissing it gently. His lips lingered for a moment before he pulled back to look at you, his eyes filled with sincerity.

You looked slightly puzzled. “But the dinner—”

“It was a way for me to try to confess my feelings. I’ve fallen in love with you, Meine Liebe. So now, I will properly say it. Will you go out with me, Hase?”

The words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you froze in shock. Your heart raced as the realization sank in. You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks, your mind spinning. He had fallen for you? The man you had admired from a distance, the one who had quietly made an impact on your life—he felt the same way?

You couldn’t help but smile, your voice soft but steady. “Yes,” you whispered, the word barely escaping your lips, but it was everything. It was the answer you both had been waiting for.

König’s face broke into a smile, his eyes shining with warmth and affection. He pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you in a gentle embrace. The world around you faded once again, and for the first time, you truly felt like you belonged with someone.

The car ride was quiet, the gentle hum of the engine filling the space as König drove you to your apartment. The soft glow of the streetlights passed by, casting fleeting shadows through the window. Neither of you spoke much, but there was a calm, unspoken understanding between you—comfort in each other's presence.

When the car finally came to a stop in front of your apartment building, König turned off the engine and met your gaze. The silence stretched for a moment, but there was no awkwardness, only a sense of warmth and connection.

"You sure you're okay?" König asked softly, his voice carrying that familiar concern.

You nodded with a smile. "Yeah, I'm good. Thank you for everything tonight. It was... perfect."

His eyes softened as he gave you a small smile. "I’m glad you think so."

You opened the door and stepped out, pausing as you turned back to face him. “König?”

“Yes–”

Before he could say anything else, you leaned in quickly, pressing a gentle kiss on top of his mask. The contact was brief, but the warmth of it lingered between you, and you felt your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected.

"Goodnight, König," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

"Goodnight, Liebling," he replied, his voice filled with something tender, as his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer. He smiled softly, his expression almost unreadable, but the warmth in his eyes was unmistakable.

As you watched him drive away, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your chest. Tonight had felt like something out of a dream, and as you walked toward the entrance of your building, your thoughts swirled with everything that had happened. You were already looking forward to whatever came next.

Back in the car, König blushed deeply, his fingers gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than usual. His heart was pounding, and he couldn’t believe what had just happened. He fumbled for his phone and quickly dialed Horangi, his voice nervous.

“Horangi... you won’t believe it... She kissed me...” König muttered, his words coming out in a rush.

Horangi's voice crackled on the other end, a knowing smirk evident in his tone. “Oh, really now? What did I tell you?”

König groaned, his face flushing even deeper. "Shut up... it was... it was on my mask, but still! She kissed me!"

The sound of Horangi laughing loudly was unmistakable, filling the quiet car. “Man, you’re blushing like crazy. Just wait till the others hear about this!”

König sighed, feeling embarrassed but also a little giddy, as his mind replayed the moment over and over.

Extra

Horangi hung up the phone with an amused look, his eyes scanning the group of mobsters who had been eagerly watching him. The tension in the room was palpable as they waited for his verdict. They had been betting on how König’s confession would go—whether it would scare the girl away, make things awkward, or perhaps be the perfect moment for romance.

Horangi glanced around at the eager faces, then with a dramatic pause, he delivered the news.

“She kissed him.”

The room erupted into chaos. Hutch and Roze both slammed their hands on the table, raging over their bet that it would make things awkward. “I knew it! I knew it was going to be awkward!” Roze grumbled, throwing his hands up in frustration.

Verge groaned from his corner, cursing under his breath. “Dammit! I bet it would scare her off. How did I get that so wrong?”

The only one who remained calm amidst the chaos was Oni, who was lounging comfortably on the couch, casually counting his winnings. A small smirk tugged at his lips as he observed the mayhem unfolding around him. He was the only one who had placed his bet on the doc not being scared away—and as the others argued, Oni leaned back, savoring his victory.

“Easy money,” he muttered to himself, not bothering to glance up at the group.

Part 1

Part 3