#we are playing mind games with each other and my poor father is in the middle lmao

[lovelyisadora]

the hunger strike is working 😭😭😭 my internet is back on

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 7: The Realization

A/N: Thank you to everyone who’s enjoyed this series! When I had the idea for this, I had NO idea it was going to be as well loved as it’s become. I love and appreciate every like, follow, reblog, and ask!

As Bruce walks down the staircase and steps foot on the foyer’s marble floor, he realizes that something’s wrong. Well, he’s known that something’s been wrong for four years now, but he’s attributed it to his pile of never-ending cases, particularly the murder of the Joker and Harley Quinn, which has been eating away at him ever since that night and has occupied every corner of his mind. It’s been four years since he discovered their remains and he’s still in the dark, the only piece of evidence he has is some strange substance reminiscent of mold found within Joker’s remains.

What he’s currently feeling, however? It’s not the need to solve a case that threatens his city. It’s as if something is wrong with the manor itself, like there’s something missing. Something that he’s never paid much attention before but has always known is there, and now that something’s wrong, he can’t help but rack his brain for what it could be.

As he tries to thinks, he walks to the kitchen to find a snack (something pre-made, Alfred’s permanently banned him from ever cooking in his kitchen ever again) when he hears voices. Three voices, to be precise, and they’re definitely amused by something. As he gets closer, he can make out what they’re saying.

“I can’t believe he of all people would have this,” Tim says, an obvious smile intertwined in his tone.

“Hey, we’re all free to do what we want in our spare time,” Dick responds. “And if anyone in this house has earned spare time, it’s Alfred.”

“I’m not saying he shouldn’t do stuff he likes on his time off,” Tim quickly counters. “I’m just saying that I never would’ve expected him to be into stuff like this.”

“For once, I agree with Drake,” Damian, the third voice, interjects. “Pennyworth is a man of refined taste. For him to indulge in this childish entertainment is entirely unexpected. Only mindless buffoons would subject themselves to this drivel.”

“Hey,” Time exclaims, offended. “I happen to enjoy this ‘childish entertainment.’”

“My point stands. Once again, you prove your inferiority and poor breeding, Drake.”

That’s when Bruce decides to step in before a fight can break out in the kitchen (again) and enters, all three of his sons, who are crowding around something on the kitchen island, turning to him.

“Hey, B,” Dick says with his usual smile adorning his face.

“Hey,” Tim adds, glaring at Damian.

“Hello, Father,” Damian says, not sparing a glance at Tim and a ghost of a smirk on his face.

“Hello, boys. Is something wrong? I heard something about Alfred.”

“No, we just learned something amazing,” Dick answers, practically buzzing with joy. “You’ll never guess what Alfred’s into!”

This certainly catches his attention. He’s known his faithful butler his entire life and likes to think he knows everything about the man who raised him after his parents were killed. To find something out about the man he didn’t know before is something that’s definitely worth his attention.

“What,” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

The three of them part, revealing a laptop on the granite top. More specifically, it’s Alfred’s laptop. It’s strange enough that the man who takes the care of his kitchen as gospel would leave something like his laptop out in the open (especially since he’s always on their case about snooping on each other’s personal lives), but what really blows his mind is what’s on the screen: the menu for what appears to be a video game. It features what appears to be a derelict ship floating in space with soft music playing in the background and several options on the lower part and what he’s assuming is the title on the upper part: Salvage Rights.

“Alfred plays video games,” he asks, completely bewildered at the discovery.

“That’s what I said,” Tim exclaims. “I mean, I think it’s great if he wants to do that. I just didn’t expect him to be a gamer.”

“Don’t group Pennyworth in with your group of pathetic mouth breathers who don’t know what is fiction and what is reality.”

“So, what’s it about,” he asks, trying to stop a fight from breaking out in the kitchen that will net all of them in trouble.

“I’ve been trying to avoid spoilers, but from what I can tell you, it take place in the future after the sun imploded, forcing several fleets of ships to flee to a nearby star cluster, but only a few planets in the cluster can support human life naturally and several of them hold valuable resources, causing a war between three different factions to break out for control over the cluster,” his explains excitedly, making Bruce smile at the sight of his third son acting like a young man his age should. “You play the captain of a prospecting vessel that salvages derelict ships and during a salvage of a ship that dates back to before the sun imploding, you find something valuable that could determine who wins the war.”

“How absurd,” Damian mutters. “That story is utterly ridiculous. Whoever wrote it should be ashamed.”

“Who should be ashamed, Master Damian,” Alfred asks as he enters the kitchen.

“Whoever wrote the story for this absurd game you are apparently fond of,” his youngest son retorts.

“None of us thought you were into video games, Alfred,” Tim adds.

“I wouldn’t say that, Master Timothy, but I know its creator and I know he worked very hard to make the game you see before you. It makes me so happy that he finally achieved his goals and I want to do my part to support him. I hope he gets all the acclaim and recognition he rightfully deserves deserves.”

“Whoa, you know who he created Salvage Rights,” Tim asks, mesmerized. “Who?”

“It’s someone you all know: Master Y/N.”

Y/N? All of a sudden, he realizes a mistake he made earlier: Tim isn’t his third child, Y/N is. Wait, when was the last time he talked to his firstborn? Hell, when was the last time he talked to you? Wait, what do you even look like? How old are you?

This starts a cascade of realizations: he’s never celebrated your birthday. Or Christmas. Or even had a gala for you like all his children got to welcome them in his family.

“Y/N’s a video game developer,” Tim asks, breaking Bruce out of his thoughts. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, that’s because none of you have ever had a conversation with the poor lad,” Alfred retorts, his look of disapproval returning. “I never knew it was possible to not say a single word to someone you’ve lived with for years, but you showed me such a thing was possible.”

Bruce looks to his sons and upon seeing their expressions, he knows that none of them have talked to you, either. This definitely doesn’t bode well for them. Or you.

“Well, we should go talk to him,” Dick pipes up, trying to stay upbeat, but he’s obviously upset at this realization. He moves to leave the kitchen. “Is he in his room?”

“His room isn’t in the family wing,” Alfred responds, stopping Dick’s stride.

That’s when Bruce realizes that he’s never seen you coming or going from any of the bedrooms in their part of the manor. If your room isn’t with theirs, where do you sleep?

“His room is on the other side of the manor,” Alfred says, as if he read Bruce’s mind.

And with that, he leaves the kitchen and all four of them follow the butler, their steps heavy and slow from guilt. Bruce’s guilt only grows as they walk through corridor after corridor, eventually replace clean and pristine for dirty and decrepit. With a manor as large as Wayne Manor, cleaning is a battle, requiring an army to maintain it, but with Alfred being the only one, Bruce told the man to leave the uninhabited wings alone and only clean them when they have guests, which Bruce tries to keep to a minimum as someone in his position in Gotham’s high society can get away with.

Have you been staying in this forgotten part for the manor ever since you came to live here? With only dust and pests for company?

After he talks to you, he intends on moving you to the bedroom next to his; it’s been empty for years and has been going to waste. When you move into that room, he’ll check on you everyday, waking you up himself and walking you down to the dining room for breakfast every morning.

“Why is his room so far from ours, Pennyworth,” Damian asks.

“Well, when he first moved in, none of the rooms in the family wing weren’t fit to be slept in,” Alfred explains. “By the time I prepared a room for him, Master Timothy came to live with us and Master Y/N said he could have that room. Every time I finally got a room prepared for him, Master Bruce had a new addition to the family. By the time you joined the family, he insisted he remained where he was.”

That stopped all further questions, leaving them to process the new information in silence.

“Here we are,” Alfred announces when they reach a door on the far side of the manor.

Bruce decides that he needs to be the one to talk to you first, so he knocks on the door.

“Y/N,” he says after knocking once. “Can I come in?”

That’s when Alfred opens the door and before Bruce can say anything, he looks inside to see not only you not in there, but your room’s the size of a broom closet compared to the rooms all of them enjoy. One thing he notices is that the room’s surprisingly clean compared to the rest of the wing it resides in; based off the lingering smell of cleaning products, Alfred must’ve cleaned it recently.

“What a hovel,” Damian remarks as they enter, looking around.

“Indeed,” Alfred responds. “This is a guest room we specifically use for guests who are unwanted.”

Those words hit Bruce harder than Bane ever could. When Damian first moved in, he complained that the size was “insufficient” and he needed more room; so, he had a perfectly good bedroom be added on to his room, doubling its size to accommodate his pets, weapons, art supplies, and whatever else he keeps in there, instead of going to you and leaving you to rot in a guest room they use for people that aren’t wanted here.

He looks over at the bed to see the painfully small mattress is definitely past its prime, worn out from years of use. The bed frame isn’t a better, either based on the fact it looks like it’ll break at any moment. He presses a hand on the mattress and winces when he feels the large indention and hears the loud squeaking.

Good god, how did you even sleep on this thing for a day let alone for years? Not only does it look uncomfortable, but it’s barely big enough to hold a child, let alone… whatever you are.

“It’s pretty empty in here,” Tim remarks as he examines the dresser. “Guess there’s not a lot of room for decorations.”

“While there were very little decorations in here while he was living here, he took almost everything with him when he left, Master Dick. Very little was left behind. He told me I could destroy everything he left behind, but I couldn’t bring myself to throw away anything of his.”

Every second in here makes Bruce feel more horrible at how he’s treated his son. He needs to find you. Immediately.

“Where is he, Alfred,” Bruce asks, eager to find you and find some way to make amends.

“I’m afraid he doesn’t live in the manor anymore, Master Bruce. Master Y/N left us some time ago.”

Once again, Bruce feels like he’s been sucker punched in the gut, leaving him breathless. You moved out?

“When,” Dick asks, clearly upset.

“Four years ago. The night he graduated from Gotham Academy.”

“That’s when I graduated,” Tim realizes.

Bruce remembers that: four years ago on the night Tim was set to graduate, he and all of his children (well, all except you) were busy combing Gotham for Joker and Harley’s killer, listening in on countless criminals celebrating the Clown Prince of Crime’s demise.

Christ, he can remember that, but not his own son? He knew he wasn’t the best father in the world (despite the mug that says otherwise courtesy of Dick), but he had no idea he had failed one person so much. How much he failed his firstborn son.

“Wait,” Bruce spits out. “If he graduated and none of us were there, who was with him?”

Oh god, if Alfred says no one was with him, he actually cry in front of all of them. To know that his son had no one to celebrate his big night would drive him off the edge.

“I was, Master Bruce.” Hearing that makes him feel a bit better, but not enough to really do anything about the pit of guilt building in his stomach. The butler pulls out his phone and types on it before holding it up for them to see. “This is him walking with his classmates.”

He watches the video of you (fuck, you’re so much older than he remembers) wearing the traditional black and gold gown for all Gotham Academy graduates (he sees the usual black and gold cap has been decorated, but he can’t see from this angle), walking in line with your fellow classmates, all of them wearing caps and gowns.

That’s when he realizes that there’s no pictures of you anywhere in the manor. He instantly thinks of the last family portrait he had commissioned (around the time Damian moved in) hanging above the mantle in the living room, which has him sitting in an elegant white and gold trimmed cushioned chair in the center with a ten-year-old Damian on his right, Barbara in her wheelchair on his left, and behind him from left to right is Cass, Steph, Tim, Jason, Dick, and Alfred.

A family portrait that he treasures not including you. Right now, it feels like he can cry and throw up at the same time.

“Here’s him receiving his diploma,” Alfred says as he swipes right, displaying another video.

Sure enough, the video playing shows the headmaster calling your name (Gould, not Wayne), you walking to the man and receiving your diploma with your left hand and shaking the headmaster’s hand with your right, and walking back to your chair. Each new revelation about you makes the cavern of guilt he’s standing in even deeper; finding out that your last name isn’t his and must be your mother’s, telling the world that there’s no connection between you and him, even though half your DNA came from him.

“A staff member was taking pictures of the graduates as they shook hands with the headmaster and she was kind enough to send it to me,” Alfred says as he swipes again, revealing a picture of you and the headmaster.

He only needs a split second to commit your details to memory. H/c sticking out from your cap that he can tell you’ve decorated and e/c that must come from your mother. And that’s when he realizes that while the color is different, their shape matches his mother’s perfectly. And isn’t that just twisting the knife in his gut.

“And this picture was taken after the ceremony.”

That’s when he sees you as perfectly as he can, standing next to Alfred, who is at an event that he should’ve been at, not looking to arrest someone who killed the man who’s terrorized Gotham for two decades. Nothing happened that night, he should’ve taken the night off to see both of his sons graduate, cheering them on and hugging them after receiving their diplomas.

“Is he still in Gotham,” Damian asks, his voice even, but Bruce can tell his youngest son feels guilty, something he’s only expressed a handful of times during his stay here.

“No, Master Damian, I’m afraid Master Y/N went back home.”

“‘Home,’” Dick exclaims. “This is his home!”

On one hand, Bruce wants to agree with Dick, that the manor is the only place you should call “home,” but on the other hand, he knows that with the way they treated you, he would understand why you’d want to leave him. Leave all of them.

“I’m afraid he felt differently. He told me that he’d been looking forward to going back to the home he lived with his mother. Apparently, the lack of affection and attention from his so-called family made him plan to move back when he turned eighteen, but I was able to convince him to stay so he could graduate.”

It made sense. After being ignored for years, why would you stay when you could leave? Bruce knows this, but now, all he wants is for you to move back in so he can give you all the love you can handle. He wants to have inside jokes with you, to give you a shoulder to cry on when the world overwhelms you, to take you out on quality time with just you and him.

He wants to do all the things for you that he does for his other kids. Things that he should’ve been doing for you from day one. He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his contacts only to find that you’re not only in his house, but you’re not even in his phone. He hasn’t had a single conversation with you in person, why would he think he’s had a conversation with you over text?

“Where is he now,” Bruce asks, his voice hollow and empty even to him.

Right now, all he wants is to learn where you are and try to find some way to make his transgressions up to you.

“I was led to believe Batman is the ‘world’s greatest detective,’” Alfred retorts, an eyebrow raised. “Are you unable to find your son on your own?” Bruce looks at him, making the butler sigh. “He moved back to his home in Goodsprings, Nevada.”

He didn’t even know where you came from before coming to live here. If there was an Olympic event for shitty fathers, Bruce would take home the gold in a landslide right now.

“Of course, you may have a golden opportunity to see him tomorrow night.” Alfred pulls his phone towards him, types something on it, and shows it to them again.

On the screen is a website for something called the Gamer’s Gala, a massive event held yearly where gamers go to see what new video games are planned to be released in the future and where game developers have an opportunity to win the “Golden Joystick,” a trophy given based off their game’s success during the year.

He scrolls through the website to find all the games up for awards and sees Salvage Rights by Gould Games in top contention for Indie Game of the year! He’s so excited to see you’ve found success in your passion and wants to see you walk on stage and accept the award, cementing your place as one of the greatest developers in the world.

According to the website, it’s being held in Metropolis this year due it being hosted completely by Lex Corp and that gets his blood boiling. No doubt this is some attempt to win public favor after yet another failed attempt to kill Superman and he thinks by doing this, people will forget all about whatever illegal activities he was up to his neck in. Had he known this sooner, he would’ve pulled the right to host the event out from under Lex’s feet, sparing no expense to ensure it was the biggest ceremony in the event’s history.

And of course, he’d invite you to stay at the manor the entire time, a room prepared just for you. Right next to his.

“The event is tomorrow night. I believe Batman can take one night off so Bruce Wayne can attend.” Alfred pulls something out from his pocket and holds it up to Bruce. “Master Y/N was kind enough to send me a ticket so I could be there for the biggest night of his life.”

Bruce takes the ticket and looks at it closer. According to the glossy golden ticket, it’s awarding the recipient special seating at a section of the hall reserved only for the friends, families, and special guests of candidates and offering them access to the Developer Lounge, a section of the convention center that only game developers and their guests can enter, where they can eat and drink all they want for free, all of it paid for by Lex Luthor.

When he gets back to the office, he plans on making that man’s life hell. It was bad enough that he somehow came in four years ago and undercut WE with products that he knows for certain were based off his company’s but he has no idea how Luthor was able to get his hands on classified technical specs, costing him and his company several contracts and millions in revenue for that fiscal year, but now, he’s gone and made the biggest night of his son’s life even better, something that he should’ve done.

This ticket is not way of witnessing the greatest moment in your life, but to try to repair his relationship with you.

“Why don’t we all go,” Dick pipes up, looking very uncomfortable. “We should all be there with for him. You know, as a family!”

“I agree with Greyson,” Damian adds. “We should all be there.”

“I’ll get us tickets,” Tim says as he pulls out his phone and begins to type on it.

“I think Master Bruce should go alone,” Alfred says, making all of them look at the butler. “This is a very delicate situation and if the entire family goes, it could make things worse. For now, allow your father to speak to your brother by himself.

The pained looks on his boys’ faces makes him feel even worse than he already does. He knows that they want to make up for how they treated you just like him, but right now, he’s not even sure how you’ll react seeing him, let alone the entire family.

He’ll do whatever it takes to bring you home so they can show you the love you deserved back then. And then, they’ll all be one happy family.

“Thanks, Alfred,” he says as he carefully tucks the ticket into his coat, treating it like a precious artifact and not a flimsy piece of paper. “I have to get ready.”

As he leaves, he makes a note to give the butler a pay rise. Not just for giving him the ticket meant for him, but for helping him realize his mistake and for being there for his son.

As he heads to his room to pack a bag, he makes arrangements to stay at a penthouse as the hotel connected to the convention center so he can get there quickly and hopefully get to talk to you before the award ceremony. He also purchases your game in order to have something to talk to you about, hoping you’ll be touched by him supporting your career as a developer (he’ll also carefully analyze the game to high heaven in hopes of learning more about you) and starts drafting plans for Alfred to prepare your new room, allowing the butler to buy anything and everything he thinks you’d like, from furniture to decorations.

He briefly thinks about calling Clark and asking him to monitor the convention hall for any trouble from Lex, but quickly decides against it. Y/N is his son and he’ll protect him with his own hands, not relying on the Kryptonian. If Lex tries any shit during the ceremony, he’ll pull every underhanded trick in the book to buy out Lex Corp only to raze it to the ground and salt the earth where it once stood.

Whatever it takes, he’ll see you accept the trophy you so rightly deserve and after that, he’ll talk to you fact to face and beg you to forgive him, take you into his arms and apologize for not being the father you needed him to be. And after that, he’ll bring you back to the manor, where you’ll stay in a room next to his, where him and your siblings will keep you company from day in to day out. And when he brings you home, he’ll commission another family portrait that’s large enough to take up an entire wall and has you in the center with all of them surrounding you.

At last, they’ll be the family you deserve. The family you should’ve had when you became a part of their family.

Tag List: @space1crow @bat1212 @minkyungseokie @nosyrobin @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @paolexsstuff @c0l1fl0r @starryperson @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @greatwhisperspaper @tatsuri-zomushiki @starsdotalk @luna57765 @jsprien213 @lizz-lrm @chericia @lunaluz432 @orbitingtraveler @roseytheteacup @bellethesleepypotato @exactlynumberonekryptonite @fantasyhopperhea @bronanitf @ellaprime7 @justwannabecat @ratchetprime211 @bunbunbread

[thehelltingvilleclub]

Josh Levy - Teddy Bear with a Lightsaber

He's not fat.. okay he's fat AND he's big boned.

Joshua “Josh” Aaron Levy [05/04/80] Secretary of Science Fiction AOL / Online Users: [JediJunkies_80] Theme Songs: Science Fiction Double Feature - Me First and Gimmie Gimmies | Ghost - Mystery Skulls | Aliens Exist - blink-182

Favorite Shit: Star Trek, Star Wars, Dr. Who, Twilight Zone, Kaiju, Stargate SG-1 Battlestar Galactica, Klingon, Alternate Earths, Firefly, Planet of the Apes, 12” Action Figures, Torrent Sites, The X-Files, Babylon 5, Akira, Farscape, Boba Fett

Despite his (well earned) grievances, he still hangs around these fuckers cause he can't really seem to find solace anywhere else, even online spaces. He didn't expect to find any enjoyment out of going to tournaments with Jerry, but an excuse to get good city food and walk around the comic shops they were held in were enough in his book to keep him coming back. He even managed to find a space themed tabletop he likes to play, and... y'know.. maybe other reasons..

But we don't talk about him shit uh IT UH--

Never tell me the odds.

Oh Joshybear my beloved you poor antagonistic shitsmear.

His mom is in the hospital a lot more often or just straight up bed bound, which makes him kind of never want to leave his room out of guilt.

Yes, this dingus still blames himself for it, though it's not like his father helps with that.

Whenever he isn't holed up in his room, he's trying to drag somebody anybody out of the house to do something. Anything to get his mind off of stupid emotional shit--

He often goes with Jerry into the inner city when he has tournaments, especially when nobody else really wants to go. Sometimes he even covers Jerry bus fair or just borrows his mom's car.

However, this fucker HATES driving. It makes him the most anxious he's ever been his entire life. It is nothing like video games and it is nothing like the Millennium Falcon, that's for damn certain.

He also hates trying to park because he is deathly afraid of hitting the side of someone's car with the door.

Josh actually doesn't meet Matt at the same time as Jerry, surprisingly enough. Jerry introduces them when they bump into each other at the shop for a non-tournament related reason.

Josh nearly had a panic attack on the spot but it's fine

The moment he heard Matt had never seen the Star Wars films he nearly lost his mind.

This became the entire basis of Josh's attachment to the dude: "I have to show him the cinematic masterpiece that is this damn franchise."

And that's all it is. Mhmm. Totally. Don't ask why his hands are clammy and he's even more show-offy than normal whenever he's around. Don't.

please?

He works with his dad at their Synagogue as essentially a secretary and sound technician, but hey, it lets him write his fanfictions Reimaginings and scroll through blogs in peace, right?

And it keeps him out of his dad's hair and the house, so it's kind of a win-win-win.. win?

I love him

I want to eat him.

A DOUBLE POST???? HJGDSAJKHDKSJALHDLK You're welcome

Also don't worry guys, you'll get a WHOLE lot more info on Matt soon. He's not an affiliated member of the club and I didn't have many drawings of him (despite my.. excessive notes...) so I'm cranking them out as I post this.

NOW LOVE THE BIG MAN ON CAMPUS DAMNIT.

also hi I know his pants look weird shut up nothing else looked better.

[candybowbeansies]

Butterflies

warnings/notes: in which Tamaki is the biological father of one scheming littol daughter 🥺 she's on the quiet side like her dad, but she is a genius little mastermind, and he never knows what she's planning behind that sweet smile of hers lmfao told mostly in reader's POV! sfw, gets somewhat suggestive at the end.

All purple like this contains some added tidbits the reader is rather oblivious to/cuteness for the giggles! 

Otherwise, it's for flavor.

P/N means parent name aka Mom, Dad, Parent, etc. to keep it gn and i've decided to write this in a different pattern than usual! I'm taking inspiration from a game from a certain childcare webtoon I am in love with.

ages ago i talked bout DILFs and their daughters trying to hook their dads up with babysitter reader w one of my lovely moots n this came to be 🙏 may or may not write this premise for other guys(definitely Dadzawa n Toshi 🥺👉👈)

Chouka Amajiki.

She was a sweet little angel. A lover of butterflies, just like her father, and avid collector of floral patterns, most of her wardrobe containing flowers she knew the meanings and scientific names of, courtesy of her father.

The flowery butterfly princess, as she so called herself, much similar to her namesake, was on the quiet side like her father. You know the saying, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree? This applies to Mr. Amajiki, being the tree, and Chouka, his daughter, being the apple.

They were very similar in a lot of ways, yet while Chouka was on the introverted side, she was highly adventurous and quite charismatic for her age.

And you? You had the honor of being her full-time babysitter, because the moment her full attention landed on you...suffice to say, she clung and would not let go. Poor Mr. Amajiki had a time of it until a happy medium for all three parties was reached, followed by profuse apologies from him.

The reason why she latched onto you at the hip? You didn't know this, but she saw you interacting with her father, who reacted rather suspiciously like the princes do in fairytales around you. So her little mind connected the dots, and after some sneaky probing, she found out her dad has a crush on you, and the feeling was mutual from what she saw of you. From that moment on, she made it her goal to get you two together, no matter the cost! Daddy did like to spoil his little girl, after all. And she'd be so happy to have a P/N.

You were more than happy to take care of her while he was out on his job, having already been unofficially put in charge of gaggles of kids that belonged to his sidekicks and staff members at his main building.

You were happy to play games with her and let her apply makeup to your face-which she was quite good at, much to your surprise. This went on for a good few months, and she had quite the inventive little imagination.

One day, she wanted to play a new game she had made up, with rules and all, just before bedtime. 

"Dad's the octopus," she says, handing him the container full of cards depicting a cartoony mollusc. "Y/N's the butterfly, and I'm the flower!" she hands you your container, proudly holding up hers. 

"Daaad, I said, no peeking." she complains to her father, who's curiosity won over. He chuckles sheepishly, reclosing the container. "Won't peek again, I promise." he smiles to her. In turn, she puffs out her cheeks cutely, squinting at him suspiciously. "The rules are..." she draws out, before turning to you, opening her canister. All of them were facing down, to add an element of surprise.

"We each gotta take turns, being the chooser! Like this, Y/N, pick a card from mine! Only one, only one!" she holds out her canister with childlike glee. You take your pick, pulling out the top card which shows a glittery heart sticker on the cartoony flower's forehead. "Lemme see!" she makes grabby hands, 'oooo'ing when she sees it.

"And then, the chooser turns into the smoocher." she points to her forehead, pointedly ignoring her dad's soft noise of apprehension.

You, ignorant to her scheme, thought her game was cute. Even more so when she pouted, offering to 'give smooches' in his and yours stead when her father expressed his hesitation to go along. Eventually, though, she managed to talk you into going along with it, because it's just an innocent game, after all, right? Except it wasn't, and her father immediately pieced together her shenanigans when he pulled the last card from your container, having already long since promised and swore up and down that he'd at least give the final smooch, all on his honor.

"Princess, I--" he all but chokes, feeling lightheaded as his whole face lights up like a Christmas light, down his shoulders and up his pointed ears. 

"No!" she immediately puts her foot down, "You promised!" tears starting to well up in her eyes signaling an incoming tantrum only a child her age could have.

And your first response was to pacify her-if she got too worked up tonight, she'd never go to bed. There'd be hours of crying and screaming, and poor Mr. Amajiki didn't need to suffer that if it was avoidable.

"What is it?" you began, reaching out for the card. It couldn't be that bad, right?

He hesitantly hands you the card, and you flip it over. A kiss on the corner of the lips.

It wasn't too far-fetched, considering she'd been easing you and her dad into goodbye and good night kisses-mostly with her. She had to get you comfortable with it, unbeknownst to you, but her father proved to be a tough cookie, much to her chagrin.

"Oh..." you sound, cheeks heating up. Your heart patters, and you try not to get your hopes up, instead trying to focus on averting the incoming crisis of Chouka's meltdown.

"It's not...too bad. If...it's not too uncomfortable," you struggle to find words, "Maybe...think of it as a good-night kiss...?" you offer, unable to keep disappointment from seeping into your tone slightly, feeling utterly lame, trying to keep your eyes focused anywhere except for on him.

It's so his daughter doesn't have a conniption fit, you tell yourself a few times.

"Yeah!" Chouka cheers.

Definitely not because you'd like to be kissed by him, you tell yourself. To make his daughter happy, so she doesn't throw--

Your thoughts turn into a trainwreck, when you see him lean in from your peripheral, and they come to a screeching halt when you turn your head just enough in surprise that his lips full-on meet yours.

You hear Chouka clapping and giggling as you hurry to once more avert your gaze from him, barely managing to even register what she says as she bolts off; "Yay! Okay, goodnight Daddy, goodnight Y/N! I'll tuck myself in tonight!"

The few moments that pass seem like an eternity. You had to apologize, you turned your head on accident, you reason. You gape like a freaking goldfish, "S-sorry, Mr. Amajiki, I--" you lose any courage as quickly as you got it when you look up at him.

"Tamaki."

When did he get so close?

"Tamaki..." his name softly escapes you. He smiles, tilting his head, and he leans in, placing a soft kiss on your lips before pulling away. His slightly flushed features, his mesmerizing deep indigos, his closeness, his scent. It was all quickly becoming too much.

"T'ma..." you hum softly. His handsome deep chuckle is music to your ears, the pointed tips of his own twitching receptively. "Yes, butterfly?" he asks.

It’s in that moment you knew he knew about your little crush on him.Before you could even ask, utterly mortified, he's your boss for fuck's sake, you hear him chuckle again. "Well..." he huffs softly, "Couldn't exactly be anymore obvious." he points out.

Now it's your turn to light up like a Christmas light. Next thing, you’re trying to cover your face with your hands, wondering just how long he knew. But his hands loosely curl around yours, coaxingly. “C’mon, lemme see…?” he asks gently, and you let him. “Oh, butterfly…” he sighs, his deep voice husky, sexy, and undeniably lovestruck. “You’re making it harder to look away, tonight…” he whispers, leaning in to gently press his forehead against yours.

“Do you wanna…?” he trails off suggestively. “Yeah…” a soft affirmation escapes you. His features contort into a handsome smile as he tilts his head to place another kiss of your lips. “Good.” you hear him say.

You won’t get any sleep tonight.

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 14 - Sex on Fire

📓 We have fluff! We have some smut!

This song specifically was one of the big three that inspired this fic! When I saw TGM and the scene at the end when Mav takes Penny up in his plane, this song matched the vibe, and I knew I wanted this for Jake and Liz.

Though I would love for you guys to try and guess which one is the song that inspired the whole story! Cause there is one! 👀

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, Mentions of an original child character, sexual themes (I mean Smut, so get outta here if you ain't +18,), FLUFF, aerophobia, and second dates.

#7k

Part 13 | Masterlist | Part 15

(Bradley's Spin-Off one shot here)

Jake and Sadie were conniving little lunatics. 

Scratch that. Sadie was an annoying insect who knew how to push buttons to get what she wanted. Jake was a gullible poor sod who had the habit of being played by said insect more than once. Because you knew without a doubt, sitting in the front seat of Jake's truck, blindfolded without any idea where you were going, this had her name written all over it.

"Is the blindfold really necessary, Jake?"

"If you knew where I was taking you, you'd jump out of my truck in an instant."

"That's not very reassuring."

Jake chuckled, bringing your hand up to press a kiss to your knuckles. "Sadie would kill me if I didn't follow through on this. After all our hard work."

"So you're doing this more for her than me," you tease. You could hear the smile in his voice when Jake replied, "The ladybug incident didn't scare you enough. Sadie's scary when she wants to be."

You chuckled softly, Jake joining in as you felt his thumb stroke across your knuckles.

Going on a date had been the last thing on your mind.

Tyler was still a major concern. Even with Cyclone keeping a watchful eye on the group of police assigned to Sadie and your case, they still needed actual leads. You hadn't paid much attention to his phone call the other day, explaining the pressure on Tyler's father to drop out of his political race or how Tyler's stupid white car was spotted on the interstate, leaving California altogether.

It should have brought you some comfort, but it didn't. The longer time stretched on, the more anxious you felt, wondering when he would make his next move.

Then there was also the matter of Bradley. Stupid, over-emotional, Bradley.

It had been days since Sadie found you in the bathtub - days since the fight. You hadn't heard from him, nor did you expect to. Maybe a tiny part of you didn't want him to reach out. But any nasty thoughts you harboured for him in the days following only managed to turn themselves into pity.

You knew his story. Mav told it enough times for you to recite it by heart. Bradley had only been two when his father tragically passed away. And Carole, his mom, had been devastated. You couldn't begin to understand the circumstances he had to go through as a kid. Each time Mav told the story, he always stressed that no love could have matched Carole and Goose's.

It's no wonder Bradley felt their loss in the way that he did. And you did feel partially guilty, wondering if talking to him about everything before it had gotten this bad would have made a difference. But it was clear he was internalizing something bigger than just hurt feelings. 

You weren't going to make the first move. That would have to be up to him.

It better be a damn good apology.

The idea of a possible date started when Sadie had called you a panicking-inducing hermit, much to Jake's amusement, scared to do anything remotely fun outside the confines of the house. Honesty? It was more to do with the fact there had been no sign of Tyler, no white car following you or sitting outside your house to encourage your paranoia.

You had gone to bed early after that, Jake and Sadie staying up playing a game of cards. You had no idea what time it was when Jake climbed into your bed, waking you up in the process when he pulled you into his chest. But it was definitely later than it should have been for a game of cards.

Jake had stayed with the two of you. Every morning you got to wake up either next to him or in his arms. The Daggers were still grounded; whether it was repairs or upper politics of the Navy, you weren't sure. But you were utterly grateful for his presence. 

It became evident that it was clearly more than a game of cards the following morning. Because in the hours after breakfast, Sadie made herself scarce. And Jake purposely kept you away from the garage, where he had parked his truck, in case Tyler decided to visit.

Sadie's maniacal laughter was another indication, so loud you could hear it through the garage walls. You were slightly concerned about what Jake was letting her do in there. 

But it all came to a head when Nat and Bob showed up at your door, telling you they were watching Sadie for the night, the Bug in question grinning ear to ear as she joined you at the door. You tried to refuse. You didn't want to leave her alone. In a surprise move, Sadie pouted at you. 

She had never once pouted over anything. No, she pushed, sassed, humoured, and produced receipts when she wanted to get her way.

 It freaked you out, so much so you couldn't bring yourself to say no. Which is how you found yourself in the passenger seat of Jake's truck, Nat and Bob standing with her on your front porch as she shouted for both of you to have a good time as he backed out of your driveway.

This was the worst possible timing. And yet, after everything they did, you felt like you owed it to them to try.

"You deserve this, darlin'." Jake's voice breaks through your thoughts, knowing you feel guilty. You squeeze his hand, dropping your chin to your chest. You have to remind yourself that Sadie is safe at home with Nat and Bob, probably arguing over music or what board game to play. And most importantly, you were allowed to take time to do things like this.

It's a few more minutes before Jake finally parks his truck, letting go of your hand and gently taking hold of your face. "Do you promise to give this a chance?"

"I don't even know what you've gotten me into. What Sadie and you got me into."

You can't see his face, so you can't tell what he's thinking. But you can imagine what he looks like right now as you feel him tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. You bet he's staring at you apprehensively, gritting his jaw, and letting out a tiny huff of breath.

"You trust me, right?"

You turn your head to place a kiss on the palm of his hand. "You know I do, Jake."

"Then trust me when I say you won't regret this." You sucked in a breath before you nodded.

Jake lets go of your face to get out of his truck, walking around to open your door and help you out of your seat. You were instantly met with the smell of gasoline and pavement, the hot waves travelling up the bare skin of your legs, and your dress slightly flowing in the wind. There's a second where you think you heard the rumble of an engine or a zoom of a plane, but Jake doesn't give you much time to think about it as he helps you step down and shuts the door behind him.

Looping your arm through his, he leads you away, walking for a bit until he stops and turns to face you, squeezing your hand.

"Stay here," he says, letting you go. You cross your arms over your chest as you wait for him, hearing the sound of keys rattling together, sliding metal and a chain dragging along the ground. And then that's it. Besides the sound of wind in your ears and a few birds chirping, you don't hear any sign of him, and it makes you wonder if he's left you alone, standing in the middle of nowhere.

Until you feel his hand gently touching your arm, and you jolt slightly. "It's just me, Liz."

He guides you forward, making you stand in one spot, hands steadying you by your elbows. You feel him against your back for a few seconds before he's working at the knot of the blindfold.

"Just remember you promised," he said before taking it off.

You opened your eyes - to Mav's plane staring back at you.

You understood why the blindfold was necessary. You would have jumped out of his truck in an instant.

"Jake..."

"I said I would get you into a plane for our second date," he said, proud of himself. You knew where this was leading, what he wanted to do. You subconsciously stepped backwards, the words "absolutely not" escaping your lips.

You didn't get very far. Your back met Jake's chest, and he instantly had his arms around you, trapping your body against his. You turn, burying your face in his chest. "I'm terrified of flying, Jake."

"I'm going to be with you the whole time. I promise Liz, nothing bad is going to happen to you." He has the entire nape of your neck in his hand while this other hand is rubbing down the length of your spine in a comforting manner.

You don't know where your fear of flying came from. You've never been up in a plane before, a fact you certainly wouldn't admit to Jake. You were okay with heights, hikes on mountainside cliffs and long car drives.

Maybe it was the idea of not being in control of your body or being grounded.

"Jake, I don't know about this," you admit into his shirt. He presses his lips into your hair before explaining, "I won't let anything happen to you. We're just going up for a simple flight. The wind is perfect right now. There will be no turbulence. Trust me; I'm not called the best aviator at Top Gun for nothing."

He takes his hand off your neck to lift your chin. "Please," he urged, pressing a kiss to your lips. "Let me share something about my life that I love."

It was then, at that moment, you realized Jake and Sadie had something very much in common.

You could never say no to either of them.

___

If anyone had told you a week ago you would be sitting in the backseat of a plane, currently taxing down to a runway, you probably would have dropped dead on the spot. Even with your nerves on fire and a strong case of nausea, you let Jake help you up and into the back seat once he pulled the plane out of the hangar with little protest.

He was so excited to share this with you. Whether it was in how he helped buckle you into the seat or when he placed the headset on your head, there was a side to him you hadn't seen before. Almost giddiness, you thought, despite every internal voice you ever had screaming at you to run for the freaking hills. Even then, you were grateful you got to see this side of him.

As Jake speaks with the control tower expertly, you dart your eyes around the cabin. While there wasn't anything in terms of controls in the backseat with you, everything still looked old. The seat felt old. The buckles of the straps tying you down looked old. Even the walls looked old.

You also felt higher than you should, staring down at the plane's wings, eyes scoring the features, the colours, and the bumps. You knew you wouldn't find anything wrong. Jake was extremely thorough in his flight check, and you knew Mav cared for this thing like it was his child. But you were still scared, even believing if Sadie could do this multiple times with Maverick, who without a doubt took her for joyrides, you could handle a simple flight with Jake.

You should have fought harder to say no. You should have fought harder to say no.

Jake turns back slightly, looking at you from the corner of his eye. "I know it might seem scary, Liz. But trust me. I got you. We'll go slow."

Jake flies in an F-18, a machine capable of much more than whatever Mav's hobby plane could do. So his definition of slow is highly relative. It makes you feel nervous, wondering what he had planned for you.

It isn't until Jake pushes the plane forward onto the runway that you realize you have to accept that this is happening. Then he's accelerating forward, and you cannot help but hold your breath.

Adrenaline floods your veins as the plane takes off, gravity attempting to pull you back down in heavy anger. You slam your eyes shut, trying to force air into your lungs. The angle seems wrong, and you have this feeling both of you will crash into something, making you turn your face into your shoulder to hide.

Even when the plane levels out and things seem okay enough, you can't open them. Your heart is in your ears, and you're trying not to hyperventilate or make a noise. You don't want to ruin this for him. Because deep down, you knew, even with all the teasing and assurances, Jake would turn the plane around for you the second he got the slightest indication you were seriously freaked out.

So, for the longest time, you keep them shut, nothing but your heartbeat in your ears and the rumble of the old engine to keep you company. Even with Jake making this ride as smooth as possible, you couldn't help but alternate between gripping the edges of the seat or hugging yourself tight.

Don't open your eyes. Don't look down. Don't open your eyes. Don't look down.

"You alright?" Jake's voice crackled through the headset. First, you nodded with a hard sallow. But then you realize Jake couldn't see you. Your voice trembled as you managed to reply with, "Yes."

He chuckled to himself, the noise warm and full of amusement. He knew. He always did when it came to you.

"Open your eyes, Liz," Jake urged gently, his voice a mix of reassurance and excitement. "I'm not going to murder you if that's what your thinking."

Despite your anxiety, a smile manages to break through at his words. Actually, they are your words from the day of the hike when you took him down that hazardous unpaved road to the thrift shop. That had been so long ago, way before anything to do with Tyler, Bradley, or even before whatever this was with him.

He had given you the benefit of the doubt then. You owed it to do the same for him now. Shuttering a deep breath, you gathered the courage to open your eyes slowly.

At first, you half expected to fixate on the view of the ground underneath the plane's wings or catch a glimpse of the shoreline or ocean. That you'd hyperventilate, witnessing perhaps an engine on fire or a piece of Mav's plane missing, flapping in the wind.

You saw none of those things.

Jake had taken the two of you further North of the airport, towards a group of mountains. You were right in the middle of them, green caps and tall peaks making you forget you were even bound to the seat of the plane.

This wasn't flying.

This felt like soaring.

Jake banked the plane around one particular mountain, a tall one at the very end of the group. It wasn't until he purposely straightened out after circling around it, did the sun fully come into view. It was already beginning its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky with various hues and shades of fiery oranges, soft pinks and yellows.

The view from the Ferris wheel at the Fair had nothing on this.

Humans weren't supposed to witness views like this. They weren't supposed to be up this high, feeling like they could touch the clouds or be this close to the sun. Or see the shine, this bright, off the peaks of mountains or even be this parallel with them.

This was only something anyone could ever dream about seeing

As the plane glided through the sky, you could feel the sun's warmth casting a gentle light on your face. You closed your eyes, not out of fear this time, but contentment, placing your hands on either side of the window and taking a deep breath.

But when you opened your eyes, your eyes began to water, and you found yourself biting your lip as you looked back toward the sun. The words spilled out of you before you knew you had said them, your voice almost sounding broken as a single tear escaped down your cheek.

"Hi, Ridely."

Because there was something about being up here, in the clouds and the surrounding mountains and feeling the sun on your face, that brought you that much closer to her. Some part of you felt guilty for refusing Mav, Nat and even Rooster, to some degree, to take you up and experience this.

She was here with you. And you had never felt more free.

"You ready?" Jake asked you. Unknown to you, he was smiling, having heard your remark. You looked at the back of his head, a grin adding to the happy tears gracing your face. "For what?"

Jake didn't give you a reply. Instead, the plane tilted, and suddenly, the world was turning on its axis. A squeal caught in your throat as you found yourself spinning upside down.

"JAKE, YOU MOTHERFU.."

But your voice caught in your throat before you could finish your sentence, Jake laughing at your reaction.

Honestly, it wasn’t as bad as you originally thought. You didn't really know what to think about it, whether gravity would be pulling you out of your seat or seeing the world below would make you pass out.

The small part of you, still holding on to your fear, wanted to be mad at him. But the part of you, the one secretly enjoying the entire experience, won out.

The truth was, you couldn't help the laughter suddenly escaping your mouth. You couldn't help the smile as Jake accelerated the plane. Or when he let the nose dip ever so slightly to let it fall, you couldn't help the shout of exhilaration.

The rules of aviation or flight were beyond you as he controlled the plane through the air, nerves dying out and instead being replaced with pure joy.

You really could have cared less about being mad at him now.

The world below, and every problem in it, disappeared. And you were alright with that.

___

You didn't want to admit to yourself as Jake finally landed the plane that you never wanted that to end. Even if you should be feeling relief at being on solid ground or when he parked the plane in front of the hanger, you were high on adrenaline and sheer joy. 

You peered up at Jake's hesitant face after he helped you climb out of the plane, standing on wobbly legs. You couldn't do anything but pull him down by the back of his head and kiss him hard. He laughed into the kiss, rubbing his hands up and down your side as he spoke against your lips. "I take it your not afraid of flying anymore?"

You pull away, pressing your forehead to his chin. "Only if you are flying the plane."

It's feeding his ego, you are sure. His chest puffs out under your hands, and that cocky smirk he's known for returns, present in the kisses he's placing on your head.

"So I still have a girlfriend, then?"

You stiffen. Jake would want to put a title on this, even if it was only your 'official' second date. The both of you have done so much of this backwards, way outside the box of how 'normal' relationships were supposed to go. But in a few weeks, Jake and you went from a first date to sleeping in the same bed to him staying over for a week.

When was your and Jake's relationship ever straightforward? And as you told yourself in that bathroom at the fair, there was nothing wrong with being in love with Jake Seresin.

"I didn't know you had one," you say nonchalantly. Jake plays along, hands gripping your hips. 

"Oh, you didn't hear? Big Bad Hangman is suddenly enamoured with this assertive, savvy bartender at the Hard Deck. Turned him down flat on his ass the first time they met. Didn't stop him from wanting to be around her, though." 

"The shameless, cocky flirt who says the wrong thing at the wrong time, humbled by her and her sassy niece." He leans down to whisper in your ear. "Not to mention she's fucking hot."

You hummed, nodding your head and purposely avoiding looking at his face when he pulled back, your cheeks flaring up hard. 

"Will you look at me, Liz?"

"I can't."

Jake laughs at your reply. "You can't? Now why's that?"

"Because you're all ego right now and boastful, and you get that cocky smirk when you do," you mummer, still purposely avoiding his eyes. That cocky smirk grows even wider as Jake tugs your hips into his.

"You mean this cocky smirk?" he teases, pressing his nose to yours, maintaining his smile. You're fighting with yourself not to smile, but it's a battle you've already lost. Jake nuzzles his nose against yours before pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, still grinning. And then another to your cheek, just below your eye, before he's littering your face with them, and you laugh as you try to escape him.

"But if you really want to know," he says after you give in, smiling at him as he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. "I think you were mine the second you gave me that clean slate in your kitchen."

 "I was yours?" you press playfully, quirking an eyebrow. Jake pauses for a second, making a show of having to think about his answer. Till his face lights up in recognition, and he says," Oh wait."

He makes a show of standing straighter, dropping his voice lower and making his southern accent purposely thicker. "You've bewitched me body and soul since that night in your kitchen."

"Oh," you laugh wholeheartedly, knowing precisely what he's doing. "You're not trying to, Mr. Darcy, this!?"

He frowns. "I thought you liked Pride and Prejudice."

You grin at him, your hands working through his hair before you kiss his lips, pulling back slightly to mummer against his mouth. "That was before I had a decorated hotshot Navy fighter pilot sleeping in my bed."

Jake growls, and you giggle as he bends you backwards, kissing you again.

Stowing away Mav's plane didn't take very long. The two of you were on the road with daylight still out and Jake telling you the night was far from over. He took you to your favourite takeout place before driving to an Outlook, telling you he'd like to come here to think things through.

You know he intends for the both of you to sit on the flatbed of his truck when he backs it into the parking spot, purposely making it face out towards the water. He presses a button before the two of you get out, making the back cover come off. 

But Sadie's involvement in conspiring to get you into the backseat of Mav's plane clearly didn't end with the blindfold. Because the second two of you walk around and Jake drops the tailgate, Sadie's handiwork glares back at you.

You don't know where to look first. Your air mattress sits in the flatbed with a spare mattress cover. A few pairs of blankets are covering it, and you know she would have needed help to get the two spare pillows sitting at the back, the ones you kept on the top shelf of your linen closet.

Of course, Jake could have managed this all on his own. But the dead giveaway was the lights. It only could have been Sadie who had taken the battery-operated string lights you had on the bookcase in your family room and strung them to the sides of his truck, the electrical tape you knew had been Jake's idea.

When you get over your shock, you turn to Jake, absolutely speechless that he let her do all this. He shrugged like it was no big deal. "What? I have to give her credit. Bug's creative."

He set the bag of food down before placing his hands on your waist, lifting you up to sit on the edge of the tailgate. "Get yourself comfy, darlin'."

You didn't move. For the sole fact you were wearing a knee-high dress, and if you turned to climb on top of the mattress, he'd get a pretty nice view of your ass. He shot you a look once he hopped up, and you shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "You can go first."

He chuckled knowingly. "Nothing I ain't going to see eventually."

It was nice to know Jake's ability to make you bush hadn't waned after recent events.

The two of you settled up against the pillows, takeout containers in both of your laps as you ate, talking about Sadie and what it might look like for her when he had to return to school next week. Then his phone rang. You spied the face-time ID as Jake reached for it on the blanket in front of him.

Janet.

He looked guilty as he asked, "Do you mind if?"

You shook your head, smiling around the fork in your mouth before managing, "Of course not."

Jake handed you his takeout container, bringing his phone up to answer the call. But instead of his sister's face, he was greeted by the sight of a baby in a blue cap.

"Surprise!" Janet's tired voice rang out through the speaker. "Meet your nephew!"

Jake's eyes glazed over the second he stared down at his phone. His hand holding his phone slightly shook, and he reached out to grip the edge of his truck with a thump. You couldn't help yourself when you dropped the takeout containers onto the blanket in front of you and peered up over his shoulder.

"Oh my god, he's adorable."

Suddenly, the camera flipped on his phone, and Jake's sister was staring back at both of you.

Even in a hospital gown, her exhaustion evident, it was clear Janet was Jake's sister. Her hair was the same colour, her eyes the same shade of green. Her mouth was the same shape, and you were sure if she smiled, you would undoubtedly see Jake's same smile beaming back at you.

"Shit, he wasn't kidding when he said you were gorgeous."

You ducked, hiding your face behind Jake's shoulder, heat rising in your cheeks. Whether it was the quickness of your escape or Janet's revealing words, Jake seemed to snap out of his daze.

"Janet!"

"Hey, I gotta embarrass you where I can. Call it payback for all the times you shared my dirty little secrets with Ian."

"Those weren't secrets, Jan. He needed to know what he was getting himself into."

"Bless his heart for it too."

You shook your head, chuckling into the back of Jake's shirt at their banter. Jake looks over his shoulder at you, slightly amused.

"Come out, Liz," Janet called out from the phone. "I don't bite."

"Much," Jake grumbled.

This wasn't exactly how you imagined meeting his sister, one of the few people he actually considered his family. Slowly lifting your head from behind Jake's frame, you managed a hesitant smile, gripping him for dear life. "Congratulations, Janet."

She smiled at you, replying, "Twelve hours of labour, but it was so worth it."

"What did you name him?" you asked, unable to contain the joy in your voice.

"E.J.," she said, looking down at the bundle in her arms before returning to look at the screen, clarifying, "Elijah-Jacob."

Jake drew in a sharp breath, and Janet didn't hesitate when she cried out, "As if I would name him anything else, you idiot."

Resting your chin on Jake's shoulder, you peered up at the side of his face with an affectionate smile. "Your full name's Jacob?"

But he didn't answer you, instead asking his sister, "Now, why on earth would you do something as stupid as that?"

Janet shot him a disappointed look before her eyes tracked over to you. "Liz, will you help me out here?" she said, tilting her head toward Jake.

"Glady," you replied, tapping the back of his head. Jolting under your chin, Jake faced you, slightly shocked. But you only shot him a disapproving glare.

"You're my baby brother. You risk your f-ing life day in and day out every single time you go up in that jet of yours or go out on deployments to make sure everyone else can sleep safely at night. And when you are home? I won't even start on all the shit you stand up against, not with Liz here."

Janet lets out a huge sigh before exclaiming, "So don't question my judgment or my choice. There was no way I was going to name him anything else. Suck it up."

Jake could only shake his head in disbelief, a humbling smile growing with each passing second.

"Now, hand me over to Liz. I wanna talk to her properly."

This is so backwards, you think, as Jake passes his phone over to you with a knowing smile. You are suddenly filled with nervousness you are not used to. This was the one person you knew Jake sought approval from. Everything was riding on this one interaction.

But your nerves settle instantly when she grins at you and casually mentions, "So, he managed to get you up in that death trap."

"It seems everyone knew about this little plan but me, even my niece, dead centre in the middle of it."

Janet grins at the mention of Sadie. "From what Jake has told me about her, she's a girl after my own heart."

"Sassy? Opinionated? Knows how to get her way?"

"Something more like being an insect, but I can see where the similarities lie."

You chuckle softly, feeling Jake rub your side, before you say, "You remind me of her."

"I'd love to meet her one day. And you in person. "

"I'd like that. I'm sure she'd love you."

Jake shook his head violently, and you couldn't help but laugh at him. "My nephew will get all sorts of horrible ideas if he meets Sadie. Don't start him that young!"

You gasp at him. "Are you saying my niece is a troublemaker, Jake Seresin?"

"You know she is."

You shake your head, bumping him with your shoulder.

"Please get my number from my little brother over here. I want somebody to send cute baby pics to," Janet pouts.

"Could you send me embarrassing stories?" you wiggle your eyebrows. Janet smirks, a playful look in her tired eyes. "Oh, you want them. I'll give them to you, no problem."

 Oh boy, did you like her.

"Nope." Jake tries to reach for his phone, but you are quicker, laughing at his attempts as you stretch your hand out of his reach. "You have a ten-year-old in the palm of your hand who has an honesty problem and years of embarrassing stories about me. Let me have my chance!"

"In comparison? Nope. Not even close. Give me my phone." Jake holds out the palm of his hand. And then you get an idea, shooting him a playful stare as you extend your hand farther.

"Come and get it, Cowboy."

Suddenly, Jake lurches forward, almost toppling you over. Jake's efforts to retrieve his phone only cause you to break out in a fit of giggles, your stomach cramping so much you fall over into the air mattress, Jake landing on top of you. Your grip on his phone is still tight.

"If my sister wasn't on the other end..." There is no threat in his words. Jake's smiling with you as you continue to laugh, trying to pry the device out of your hand. Janet's shout through her own laughter interrupts the two of you. "Keep it pg, you two! Literal newborn ears over here!"

Jake manages to swipe his phone back when you laugh even harder at her words. You sit up, wrapping your arms around his as you try to fit yourself into the view of his phone screen when the two of you settle.

Janet looks up at something in her room and frowns. "I gotta go. The nurse will come back any minute and yell at me, I swear."

The both of you say your goodbyes, Janet explaining more than once she was happy Jake found you. But just before he went to end the call, Janet called out his name. 

"Watch out for a package from Texas coming up there."

Jake's smile flees at Janet's words, slowly dissolving into a sombre expression. His body tenses under your touch, and you see the second his eyes darken with a deep-seated seriousness. It's a side to Jake you've only truly ever seen once before - when he found you handcuffed on the floor of the Hard Deck.

Growing up, you and Ridley had all sorts of codewords and phrases for different things. Those were the unfortunate circumstances you had to live with as a kid. So you knew right away Janet didn't mean an actual package. Whatever it was, Jake was clearly not happy about it. It was making you deeply concerned. 

Jake reaches for your thigh, grip tightening when he replies, "Yeah, okay."

He hangs up. And doesn't mention anything else about it.

__

After finishing your dinner in silence, you sat next to Jake, staring out at the horizon. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you tight to his side. At some point, you had placed both of your legs over his lap, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

It was still light out when Jake and you left the tiny airport, and the sky was now turning dark, leaving the small parking lot of Jake's outlook out secluded, the two of you alone and in utter peace. His fingers were absentmindedly stroking your skin as you both took in the last few minutes of the sunset.

"You okay?" you asked him, kissing his shoulder before looking back over the water, suddenly aware of Jake's hand slowly getting closer to the inside of your thigh. He kissed your cheek, replying, "Never better."

You don't buy it.

"You're an uncle now," you wondered aloud. Jake shrugged. "I already was one."

"But it's different. Sadie is..."

"Sadie counts." He quickly corrected you, kissing your forehead before looking back to the water. "She'll always count."

It warms you, his level of affection for her, but you cannot help but detect a sense of finality in his tone. Reaching up, you cradled the side of his jaw, turning his head back to you so you could lean up and kiss him.

Jake presses his lips to yours softly before pulling back to look at you. There's something in his eyes you cannot name.

Then his lips are back on yours, this time steady and encompassing, parting your lips with his tongue. Your grip on his face tightens as you suddenly find yourself being tilted backwards, sliding down the pillows until Jake is half on top of you. Your head is pillowed on his bicep as he kisses you, your hand still cradling his jaw. 

He then goes for your neck in a desperate breath, open-mouth kisses, sucking harder and harder. You're used to this. The two times Jake had you pinned up against him, he had marked up the side of your neck. But his hand, not trapped under your head, is wandering. Groping at your breast, sliding down your stomach to the outside of your thigh, testing his grip. 

He hikes your outside leg up, fingers brushing the sensitive part inside your thigh.

Your breath hitches.

"Is this okay?" he whispered into your ear. You hummed your reply, nodding once. But Jake grazed his nose along your jawbone lightly, fingers delicately sliding up and down the inside of your thigh.

"Words, Elizabeth."

Damn him and his accent, saying your full name.

"Yes," you gasped out, wanting him. "It's absolutely okay."

"My good girl," he says before diving back to your mouth. You know he's teasing you as he strokes your skin, making you quiver with anticipation of what is to come. But then he's reaching for the helm of your dress, lifting and folding it over your stomach, as he releases your lips in a harsh pant. 

The question is there in his eyes as he looks down at you, fingers resting just on the helm of your underwear. You swallow, opening your legs wide. Jake's eyes glaze over, and his arm flexes under your head. You're giving him this—this first experience of letting someone be with you. 

He doesn't hesitate when he starts dragging them down. You eagerly lift your hips to help him take them off. Once he gets them past your ankles, he shoves them into the back pocket of his jeans. 

Jake hisses when he takes you in, so spread out for him. "Can I touch, darlin'? Can I touch what is mine?" 

Fucking hell, Jake. Do you have a consent kink?!

"I'm yours," you gasp into the night air. "Please, Jake, Please."

Jake rests half on top of you, swallowing your whimper as he finally reaches and presses down on your clit, slow, gentle circles that have you closing your legs and sharp breaths racking your chest. Your hand shoots out and grips his wrist, feeling his muscles contract under your hand.  

"Keep them open, Liz," he warns, shifting down slightly so he can turn you and press you back against his chest. Jake slots his leg between yours, expertly thrusting his knee so your leg hooks up over his, never stopping in his efforts.

He rubs at you with ease, carefully watching how each movement makes you react before he switches to his thumb, and a single-finger probes at your entrance. You thrust your hips back into him, a strangled noise crawling out of your throat, and Jake uses it as an opportunity to push his finger inside. 

"That sound, " He breathes against your cheek. "You're driving me goddamn insane."

You used to worry back in university that you'd feel trapped if you ever found someone you trusted enough to do with this. But even with Jake poised at your back, working between your legs, you did not feel as if you weren't in control. Your body is open to the air, and Jake is only holding you down by his hand and the weight of his words. 

You feel safe. 

He adds another finger, curling them inside you, searching for something when you let out a sharp whine. It burns. The stretch. The sensations that were spreading across your groin. 

You felt full with Jake's finger's inside you, squelching sounds accompanying each time pumped them in and out of you.  "You're so tight," he moaned into your neck. "I won't have you here, but fuck Liz, the day I can have you gripping my cock." 

You bury your squeal into the flesh of his arm, your arm not currently gripping Jake's wrist, whipping out to find the side of his truck, making a string of lights fall. 

Not slow. This is not slow. 

"Knowing I'm your first." He bites the soft skin behind your ear. "That your mine." 

Your cry is muffled into this arm, and Jake glides his nose up the back of your neck to your ear. "Don't look away, Liz," he soothes. "Let me see your face."

It's the last thing you want him to see, ironically. The faces you make aren't pretty, and your eyes are slammed shut. And you were sure if you did open your eyes, you'd explode at the slight; you spread out so shamelessly open to the sky. Jake's hand between your legs, working you higher and higher off an unknown edge from the flatbed of his truck. 

But you do manage to turn your head back, Jake immediately catching your mouth with his in a desperate kiss. When he lets your mouth go, you whine out with a pant, "Fuck Jake, I can't." 

"Yes, yes, you can." Your words must have encouraged him because suddenly, his thumb is circling faster, and his fingers are pressing harder, working that spot inside you. Your eyes are screwed shut, tears seeping through as the ball in your abdomen grows tighter and tighter, nails biting into his wrist. 

"Are you going to let go for me, darlin'," he gasps into your open mouth, hovering above you. You wanted to, desperately. "Will you let me have it? 

You drop your head to his arm, the feeling too much to bear. You are on the edge of something, fire radiating from your core and making your thighs shake. Jake pants into your ear, once, twice before he moans, "Will you cum for me?"

His thumb swipes over your clit as he presses hard on that spot inside you. You keen, lights exploding behind your eyes as you arch your hips towards his hand, legs trembling as you clench around Jake's fingers. The cool breeze from the sea or the cool air from the night sky does nothing to the heat flooding your veins.

He's there. Turning your head back, catching your cries into his mouth, and taking the bruises you're pressing into his arm without flinching. In fact, he's smiling ever so slightly, watching you come apart underneath him.

You weakly turn in his hold, whimpering and trying to bury yourself into his chest as every emotion hits you at once. Jake pulls his fingers from you as you do, and you feel embarrassed at the wetness coating your thighs. Gripping the back of your leg, he rolls, taking you with him. Your body crashes limply onto his chest, and the one leg he's holding straddles his waist.

Your trembling, gripping his shirt to ground yourself and will strength back into your body.  There's a hyper-awareness you are not used to dancing across your skin - allowing you to feel the fabric of the blanket underneath you, the chill in the air, Jake's warmth, your release cooling on your thighs and covering his fingers, grasping your bare leg.

Any rational thought has gone out the window. Except for the fact you know Jake could not have gotten off from that.

He's hard against the inside of your thigh, through the denim of his jeans, the rough fabric creating friction against your clit as you rock lightly to the pulses aching in your core. He's groaning with each press, fighting with himself not to cant his hips up into you.

Even as you continue to whimper your aftershocks into his neck, you find yourself trailing your hand down his chest and to his stomach, fingers barely slipping under the waistband of his jeans, just reaching the first few strains of hair.

But Jake grunts, pulling your hand away and shaking his head. He brings it up to his mouth, kissing the palm before stating, "It's not about me right now."

"Jake..."

He doesn't give in to the soft pleading of this name. Instead, he grips the roots of your hair at the base of your skull, ensuring there isn't an inch of space between you as he pulls you close. His other hand is gripping the bare skin of your ass, keeping your dress up around your hips and lower half exposed to the cool air.

This time, you do feel trapped.

He's holding you like you'd be carried off by the breeze, ready to disappear at any second. As if faced with another deployment, off to fight a war with the fear of never making it back. The switch in him is so sudden that the aftershocks of your recent orgasm are reduced to cooling embers, and it only adds to your unease when Jake gasps through a sharp breath, "Just let me hold you and forget about everything else."

The concern you felt for him earlier returns with a vengeance.

Jake's anxious about something, and he's not telling you why. Suddenly, the chill in the air is too cold, the blanket is too rough, and Jake's fingers and the insides of your thighs are chalky, rubbing against your skin.

You focus on breathing instead, trying to calm your rapid heart. You weren't going to hold whatever this was against him.

Because despite not knowing what to think about having your real first sexual experience in the flatbed of Jake's truck, you today were the happiest you had felt in a while, even with literal hell overtaking your life. 

But listening to Jake's heartbeat pound under your ear, the paranoia you've ignored so many times before makes a home in your chest, and the allusion that was today dissipates, and everything comes rushing back. Tyler. Bradley. And now, whatever Janet warned Jake about that was making him act this way.

It was all a possibility again.

You couldn't help but feel this silver of happiness wouldn't last that much longer.

Tag List:

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233

@mayhemmanaged @ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

@bradleybeachbabe @bobby-r2d2-floyd @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars @dakotakazansky

@keyrani @craftytrashprincess @hisredheadedgoddess28 @abzidabzy

Part 15: Have you ever seen the rain? Coming soon

Wickett ;)

[squidgang]

SIX (EIGHT) SONG SOUNDTRACK

Thank you so very much for the tag, @mogruith!!! It’s times like these I am grateful to have a severe Spotify addiction and already had a wealth of songs from my specialized playlists on hand to dig through!! I DID cheat a little bit while making this and for some categories I have two songs instead of one- I couldn’t help it!! But without further ado, here they are, along with sometimes lengthy explanations!!

Tagging anyone who sees this because it was SO MUCH FUN :))

but I will also directly tag my untagged moots: @lazybulette @kekeandherrpgs

Rules: If you're tagged, make a new post with links to music and/or lyrics describing the following... 

LONG POST INCOMING

Event that defines your character's past

Golden Antlers - Glass Animals

“Look at this poor boy All dressed up in white Now how can he smile With a face of all eyes? He wanders the night Through smears and words snide Spinning 'round and 'round His precious mind Like dizzy neon lights”

Namulith is young, about six years old, when he is brought to the Temple of Bhaal and presented to the congregation for their equivalent of a First Communion.  This event is the very first real memory he has of the Temple- dark, warm, and sinister.  He arrives wearing symbolic white robes, everyone is staring at him, he is given a psychedelic, and begins to dream/hallucinate. (Also I really like the song title because if Namulith was an animal he'd totally be a deer)

How your character sees themselves

Nervous Young Inhumans - Car Seat Headrest

“I am a good person. I am a powerful person.  I don't believe in evil.  I think that evil is an idea created by others to avoid dealing with their own nature. I understand my own nature. Good and evil have nothing to do with it. I understand myself. I control myself. I control everything within myself.  My domain is my domain. I can lie on my back and affect the lives of those I love without moving a finger. But I would only affect them in good ways. I don't waste time on evil. I'm a good person.”

I classify Namulith as true neutral alignment-wise, but he considers himself a “good” person.  Perhaps not an actual good person (in that he is not usually trying to look out for others and display compassion to all), but he genuinely believes that he is “good” at living the life he leads- that he is moreso “good at” being a human being and playing the game of life than the average person.

How others view them

Act Your Age - Snake River Conspiracy 

“Nobody loves you more than they ought to nobody cares what you think (what you think) I still hold those pictures of you and your sisters I'll always play the fool I'll always play with you”

This song is totally Orin’s POV, and is exactly how she sees him.  Especially once she is able to recognize the discrepancies between their upbringings (i.e. that he was allowed to enjoy a normal, happy life while she was restricted and suppressed by her father) and develops feelings of jealousy and hatred towards him and his family.  She belittles him and casts insults his way, but still takes the opportunity to spend time with him even though he doesn’t want her company.

AND

Just - Radiohead

“You do it to yourself, you do And that's what really hurts Is that you do it to yourself, just you You and no one else You do it to yourself You do it to yourself”

Ultimately, Namulith himself is the orchestrator of all of the major problems of his life.  He’s not so self-aware that he necessarily recognizes this, however.  He’s responsible for all of the destruction, pain, and chaos he’s caused- he can hide behind the Urge as much as he likes, but the only one who can truly answer for any of this is himself.  

Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic)

Riches and Wonders - The Mountain Goats

“We write letters to each other Invent secrets to confess to I learn foreign and exotic terms of endearment By which to address you” “You felt shelter somewhere in me I find great comfort in you And I keep you safe from harm You hold me in your arms”

Namulith and Minthara become rather codependent on each other post-game, relying on each other for comfort, protection, and pleasure.  There’s cultural exchange going on as well, from her Namulith learns about Drow language and culture, and from him Minthara learns surface customs.  

AND

Guardian Angel - Blood Girl

“I hope you know that you are special Hope you know how good you are Hope you know you’ve changed my life And let me have another start You are my friend and you’re my family And if I cannot be your kid I will still be there till forever The way I hope you’ll be for me”

Jhil (orphaned niece, deceased sister’s daughter) is quick to forgive Namulith for his absence in her life, and is glad she can once again have a stable home life with him in the Dorok Apothecary.  She’s an optimist- she sees the best in him and everyone else, and as a result kind of puts him on a pedestal as some kind of savior or great role model (of which he is neither). He's almost certain he's going to let her down.

A major fight scene

Flip - Glass Animals

“I'm gonna go back I'm gonna go back I'm gonna go back to a face, no more mask I was in full bloom until I met you I'm gonna shake my fetters I'm breaking lose”

This song encapsulates the fallout of Orin’s betrayal, once Namulith recalls enough that he can fully grasp the consequences which followed (how he was subjected to torture under Moonrise Towers, tadpoled, left for dead, mind-controlled), he develops a sizeable grudge.  The “face, no more mask” refers to him finally distinguishing between himself and the Urge- that he will face her and kill her as Namulith- not the Dark Urge.  Before her betrayal he was at his peak; a powerful, young, charismatic cult leader (who had at last fallen off of the deep end and embraced his status) who had set his sights on complete domination.  But now, all he desires is her death, as well as complete severance from Bhaal and the cult.

End credits song

Time It’s Time - Talk Talk

“Time it's time to live Time it's time to live through the pain Now that it's over, now that it's over, now that it's over As bad as bad becomes It's not a part of you”

Namulith is faced with two reactions to the clarity he achieves through the restoration of most of his memory by the end of BG3/the morning of the death of the Absolute; he can either spend the rest of his life repenting for the past or agonizing over how his actions will affect the future.  He chooses neither. He’s going to move on, he’s going to keep living, and though he might be haunted by the “bad” things he’s done- there’s nothing he can do about it, and it doesn’t define him either.  He’s starting fresh, and he’s going to do it his way.(*coughs* Minthara’s way)

[undeniablespice]

wip tag game

blowing a kiss to @thelaughingtree for tagging me

rules: the tagger gives a word, then for each letter of that word you share an excerpt from your wips that starts with that letter.

my word: HEIR

from the private and intimate life of the house, my (still a wip) aeron-centric character study:

His father’s solar is dark, the brazier dead and cold. Shadows stretch across the floor from the trophies mounted on the walls: a crown made of driftwood, a sword once owned by Lord Quellon, a shark’s jaws spread wide as if to bite, rows of teeth gleaming. From the window Aeron can see the rest of the castle spread across the shattered headland and limned silver in the flash of lightning. The storm rages above, a boiling black roof of piercing wind and spitting rains. The sea rages below, frothing and furious, wilder than Aeron has ever known it.

from chapter four of iron fears the rot, my fem theon longfic:

Everyone says he looks just like his mother. Robb’s heard japes before that were it not for the blood on his parents’ bedding night no one would believe he even has a father, so closely he takes after the Lady Catelyn. No one’s ever told him what blood has to do with it. Robb doesn’t want to ask. He likes looking like Mother, who is the most beautiful lady in the keep and possibly all the realm. He likes it until he overhears the other japes. Those are told over cups: the ones about river water thinning out the ice in his veins, the ones about how cruel the gods were to shape Lord Stark’s bastard in his image and his heir in the image of a trout.

from the worm king's lullaby, my thesis on viserys/otto:

If Rhaenys were here she would be leading the pack. In her absence the burden falls to Rhaenyra, who accepts the task with glee bordering on vindictiveness. She plucks the crown from your head and places it upon her own with a roguish smile. Each piece of jewelry taken from you finds its way to her. By the time she starts on the clasps of your mantle, your chains are clinking around her neck and your rings are slipping down her slender fingers. “Leave his shirt and breeches,” one woman calls, and another laughs, “We don’t frighten the poor girl off before the door is locked behind her,” and you respond, “She’s said her marriage vows, she couldn’t run if she wanted, my Hand would never let her,” and Rhaenyra tears away your doublet with such force that the golden fastenings chime against the flagstones.

from a bit farther in the future than chapter four in iftr:

Robb keeps the faith, as all Starks must, but as a child he always wondered if whatever wild god called this weirwood its home had long since fled. The direwolf pup squirms in his arms. A tiny paw works free of the makeshift sling Robb made of his cloak. He grabs for it, cursing as Ice slips in his lap, and that is how his mother finds him: juggling writhing pup and ancestral greatsword, swearing like a sailor as he tries to keep one from touching the other. “You’re smothering it, sweetling,” Catelyn says, and Robb startles so badly he nearly shaves his head off. “A dog is no babe in need of swaddling. Let it free – yes, gently, it’s a tiny thing yet. Be careful not to let it touch the blade.”

your word is MIND

tagging: @2maegor2cruel, @cowboygren, @branwendaughterofllyr, @hell-heron, and anyone else who wants to play

[bizarre-blorbo-bracket]

Round 3 Poll 4: Rev. Green from Cluedo vs Davis (Juror 8) from Twelve Angry Men

Propaganda:

Rev. Green:

1) Literally just a random board game character 😪 2) Ok so basically here’s the deal. One day, about a year and a half or two years ago, I saw some random thing related to Clue online. I (dual U.S. American and Russian citizen, because I was born in America to an immigrant parent, I PROMISE this is important) was confused because among the cast of characters was “Mr. Green”. Now, I hadn’t played Clue in a very long time. It wasn’t my favorite game as a kid, my only memories of it were wanting to play as Ms. Peacock and then my brother taking her and making me pick someone else, but I was pretty confident the character was Reverend Green. What happened? Was he excommunicated?? I kind of figured the name was just changed to reflect a more secular culture and that I had unknowingly played an old copy of the game as a kid.

But it fascinated me. So I spent months on and off researching the topic. (poorly, might I add, it wasn’t a complicated issue. But still.) I found out about many changes from version to version. Clue Junior, Clue VCR Mystery, Clue Master Detectives, all of it. And the whole time, Green was there to greet me in each new version. It was the first thing I always checked. Was he Mister or Reverend? I found out in one version he was a defrocked priest turned businessman, and in another a scam artist who pretended to be a member of the clergy to pull of a scheme. Closer. I ran polls, I went to irl Clue events, and eventually I found what I was looking for the whole time. Green was a Reverend in the 1944 patent of the game, and the subsequent 1949 U.K. release of Cluedo. But, because of fear that U.S. Citizens would take issue with a member of the church being suspected of murder, Parker Brothers changed the name to Mister Green for the U.S. release.

That all could have taken me five minutes of googling, but honestly the chase made the result so much more worth it. And yet, there was something more there in the back of my mind. This all was well and good, but why was I so sure of the U.K. version of the name? My father’s family is Irish so we have a pretty healthy hatred of all things British, there’s no way my dad would’ve had us play that version of the game. Right? But thanks to a response from a poll I ran, I found out that the German version also went with Reverend. Because Green is an Anglican, I kind of assumed that the U.S. change might have been carried over into other international releases. But no! That made me realize that Mister Green is an outlier and that almost all languages of the game use Reverend. So then last night the pieces finally clicked together. I asked my mom to confirm a hunch I had, not expecting her to at all remember something this trivial. Like I said, I didn’t play it much as a kid. Maybe we didn’t even own a copy, and I had just played it at a library or a hurricane shelter or a relative’s house or something. But she remembered. We did, in fact, own the game. Not just any version, but a RUSSIAN COPY. I unknowingly grew up with Cluedo! So I had every reason to believe it was Reverend Green and be confused when I heard otherwise.

Tl;dr, minor version difference between Russian and American copies of a board game gave me a hyperfixation and a blorbo.

Davis (Juror 8) (these are all from the single submitter)

a quick lil list babes, and I apologise for all of this in advance:

He's from the fucking film 12 angry men. like, aside from letterbox bootlickers and middle school hass students NO ONE has watched this film let alone care about it, it was made in 1957, is shot almost exclusively in one room and the entire film is just middle aged white men yelling at each other over whether some not white poor kid should be sent to the electric chair. what the fuck.

Henry Fonda, the actor, was 52 years old at the time of filming

Henry Fonda is the father of Jane Fonda, the woman who would revolutionise the 80's with her home workouts and her blindingly neon leg warmers.

His name wasn't revealed until the very end of the film and even then it's just "Davis."

I could honestly give him a lil smooch

He's absolutely not girlypop but he's the ally-iest ally who's ever allied

He's categorised as a "Benevolent Leader" on the Heroes Wiki

instead of the overwhelming urge for me to coddle him like most all other blorbos, i would appreciate it switched

I have a photo of him inside my saxophone case and sometimes i forget he's in there, then he creeps into my saxophone bell and when I play it he shoots out like a ballistic missile

Dude, on ao3 there's more fanfiction about the real life 80's British punk band The Clash than the entire film of 12 angry men, let alone Davis (80 fics come up under the clash, while 10 come up for 12 angry men)

I have a counter, and I've watched 12 Angry men a total of 145 times. The figure is up on my wall in tallies. whenever the number goes up, I like to watch it in 5's so then I can put another full group of tallies on my wall.

I have incredibly detailed stories about how Davis would boogie down to ringo starr's solo career, and they're written within the margins of a book called Tobruk written by Peter Fitzsimons. The only reason I reread that book is to wonder at my elaborate works of fiction

My HASS teacher was the one to introduce me to 12 Angry Men as he played it for the entire class. He gave us a set of questions to complete on the film and a few Law based questions as a little treat, and he expected it to be handed in the next day. What he didn't expect was an 11 page monster of a response that included social commentary, 4 paragraphs dissecting the character of Davis alone, deeply discussed comparisons between the landscapes of politics and law in the 50's to the present, and basically an entire point-for-point summarisation of the film, completed with obscure quotes from Truman, Eisenhower, Nixon and Presley (Elvis). He presented the printed masterpiece in front of the entire class to shame me.

After class he explained how his favourite Juror would either be 6 or 5, because 6 seems like a big dumb teddybear and he just liked 5. I explained how I liked Davis because he didn't want to send a kid to die, then he told me how Davis would make a good cowboy (at this point in time I was unaware of Henry Fonda's role in Once Upon A Time in The West) and I proceeded to go home and write a 3 part orchestral composition that I could pretend would play as the soundtrack to Juror 8: A Cowboy's Tale or something like that

I had started to make an animation meme starring Davis but only gave up when photoshop literally deleted itself from my laptop

I didn't even hear that Juror 8's name was Davis when I first watched it in class, somehow I only heard it on my 6th rewatch but when I did I literally got so excited I literally got winded and cried a little bit, I had to take a panadol because I got so lightheaded

I have learned the musical motif that plays throughout the film on saxophone, clarinet, recorder, guitar, bass, ukulele, piano and trumpet

I have visions of him

One of Davis' 3 children HAS to be gay and nothing can convince me otherwise

honest to god I'd be a home wrecker if it came to him

I quote not only Davis but the film a lot, and sometimes in the dead silence of all my friends I go on about how the old man couldn't have possibly made it to the door in such a short amount of time to see the kid running down the stairs (because the old man has a limp, and Davis proved it my limping around the room, which I have to say was incredibly attractive of him)

He's literally an architect

I once had a dream where Davis was in my bass guitar case when I opened it, and i literally just picked him up and started picking him like a bass guitar until I tried to play a full chord and he bit the hand that was meant to be on the fretboard. I dropped him and he fell on his ass, and when I said "what the hell dude what was that for" he said bass chords are lowkey ugly to listen to, and since then i don't like playing bass chords because now they're lowkey ugly to listen to. before this ordeal, i enjoyed them, but alas

i once got my romantic partner to write me a davis x reader fanfiction as a birthday present

my parents believe that Davis is my first celebrity crush, and while they're actually wrong it's still actually so embarrassing they believe that because OH MY GOD it's literally JUROR 8 FROM 12 ANGRY MEN

I've attempted slam poetry about him

I've eaten a paper printed full a4 size photo of his hand

I would also not mind him to be literally my father, but given the rest of the things I've just said about him that's really weird and I recognise that

[dishonored-pendletwin]

how'd she meet her party and why a wild magic barbarian?

Wow this got long lmao, anyway info dump be upon ye

Small bit of Campaign Context: So the setting we play in is homebrew, but borrows from 5E lore. And (while we're currently on the surface) 90% of this campaign is set in the Underdark. The general plot is a war is starting between the Drow and the Dwarves and our party has decided to side with the Dwarves. So! Ariana comes from a long line of Divine Sorcerers, her House has historically been blessed by Lolth with the gift of magic, until her that is. (Her and the party don't know know this yet, but she has been blessed by Eilistraee) Ariana is also the youngest of 10, however as the only daughter she is the heir to her House. Growing up Ariana was not very happy. Her mother, Matron Nassar, whomst I described to my DM as "someone with 0 redeeming qualities" was unsurprisingly awful, she didn't get along with half of her older brothers, and drow politics just suck ass. Worst of all for her, given her title/position and relation to her mother, many drow who were socially below her were terrified of her, leaving Ariana pretty much alone the first 80 years of her life (until she met her best friend and crush ((who we just saved last session from the feywild)) Jumping forward 20ish years from meeting him, Matron Nassar grew tired of Ariana failing her magic lessons (lessons made to teach someone blessed by Lolth were very ineffective at teaching someone not blessed by Lolth), tired of her sneaking out all the time, and tired of Ariana just being a general disappointment to their House, so she threatened Ariana to do better by telling her she'd kill some random House servant for each failure, and then proceeded to Blight some poor dude. Not wanting to be responsible for anyone else's death, and just generally being done with this life, Ariana ran away from home that night. She eventually found herself in the Dwarven owned territory of the Underdark where she was adopted by and older Dwarf, who after 8 years of living with him, considers her his daughter. Now with all this in mind I can better answer the actual questions you asked. (Technically speaking Ariana's first lv should have been Sorc, but we started at lv 5 and the DM didn't care sooo) So Ariana is a Wild Surge Barbarian because of her magical blessing (but lack of proper training) + her combat training from her Dwarf Dad Dimitriv. Basically, Ariana has the ability to do magic, but without the proper training it kinda just happens sometime [read: when using Rage] When she was taken in by Dimitriv he lent her his old Maul and trained her how to fight with it using dwarven techniques, something her old family would have considered barbaric. (Rage I do RP as Angry sometimes, but it also gets RP'd as an intense focus) [The final reason is I wanted to play Barb, but the other subclasses didn't really call to me, and her backstory came from picking this Sub Class] As for how she met the party, Ariana lived with Dimitriv in a small dwarven town. The rest of the party is from the surface. One member came by himself and met her a week before, being offered the guest room at her fathers home. The other two are long time friends and came together looking to do crime. Being this is my DM's first game, there's a few stereotypical things he thought were funny doing - one being starting in a tavern. As two groups we entered to get drinks, but we left as one group when a large Drow raid attacked the town. Anyways, thank you for asking an allowing me to go off about Ariana, I love her so so so much for a number of different in and out of game reasons, and I love you giving me the opportunity to go off.

[lindyloosims]

Thank you to all who voted in the heir poll!

Zachary is the generation two heir by a landslide (poor Dawson) so let's begin his story shall we?

I wish someone had told me that life is a rollercoaster. My parents always made it look so easy the way they ran the house and doted on each other. The story of my journey as heir to my father's legacy started out at the top of the rollercoaster, then it was just down and down and down...I never thought it would ever stop! It was just after Dawson's high school graduation that I came down with something funky and mum insisted on cleaning my room as I lay dying in my bed!

Okay maybe I was exaggerating, they took me to the doctors and it was bed rest for me with plenty of paracetamol and fluids. While I was moping around feeling sorry for myself as mum was suffering the consequences of consuming dairy for the umpteenth time in their life, Dawson was working hard towards his degree...

...or at least that was what he was telling us! In actual fact he was working hard towards losing his virginity with his old high school crush, Tala Robles!

I soon felt better and got back to my own school work reluctantly. Dawson was a pretty good student but I was even better and I did it without trying which I know got on his nerves. Basically I got on his nerves, when we would fight he always brought up the fact that the moment he laid eyes on my stupid baby face, his words, he knew he did not want me around. I know he changed his mind when I got older and smart enough to talk and play video games with him, he leaves that part out though!

I could rely on him to give me advice on being a teenager as he only just went through it himself. I would get days when I just wanted to hide away and not show my face, practically live under my bed covers! But these feelings were nothing compared to what was about to hit our family, nothing at all!

⏮️Previous/Next⏭️

[isabeauwolf]

I'm curious. What was everyone's first anime amv's that you watched and what ones stays in your mind rent free?

This Ryou Bakura/ Yami Bakura amv got me into RED back in high school. If ya'll have read the og Yu-Gi-Oh manga and Duelist, ya'll know. If not, let's just say its wayyy darker than the 4kids anime we grew up with and a lot of stuff was censored. All the crap Yami Bukura put poor Ryou through, Yami was super creepy and throwing out death punishments left and right, but the people deserved it. That was even before the card game was introduced!

I know, I know, Inuyasha is basic and over memed to death, but it's still very close to my heart. It was my first anime in middle school and is very close to my heart, say what you will, but I love the dub. I've re-watched the series 5 times before The Final Act aired, I watched it every week both in subbed and dubbed. I've read the manga online years ago after the original anime ended cuz I had to know what happened! I bought the VizBigs and have a couple of the anti-manga which I hope to finish collecting someday, have other merch and games too.

I'll even share that I used the instrumental version of "Dearest" while walking down the isle for my wedding. Why? The song fit my husband and me so well, we had been through so much together and our love only grew stronger. Even while we were apart, we never stopped thinking of each other.

Eternal Snow always hits me with heavy nostalgia. Do I always cry while singing it? Of course, I do. I always come back here in winter to listen to this beautiful song. I remember watching the whole series on YouYube in high school after reading the manga. The story really sticks with you and inspiring, no matter what your dream is.

This amv I think best summarizes Kai Chisaki, Overhaul perfectly as a character. He has such a twisted mind, but that's part of the reason he was such a great villain, and his style/quirk made him such a bad-ass villain.

The way Pops found Kai as a boy, alone, covered in filth and I imagine he was hungry, always made me feel as if we were missing something from his past before the latest chapters came out. He wanted more than anything to replay the man who saved him, rebuilding the Shie Hassaikai's former glory and reputation along with returning people quirkless. Might have saved so many lives who were eventually lost, but at the end of the day, he still choose the darkest route and solution.

"You have no place here", hearing those words from Pops, his father figure, that's probably what finally pushed him to do everything he did. Ignoring Pops wish and taking matters into his own hands, its brief, but it hurt him, he's shocked before recollecting himself and putting Pops into a coma.

Kai’s final scream makes me cry every time because you just know that’s when he realized he’s lost literally everything he ever had, his quirk, the ability to fix Pops, the Shie Hassaikai his only home, and the quirk erasing bullets and serum, his plan that's been pouring so much time and who knows how long working on.

I haven't said it often on here at least, haha. But MDZS is one of my favorite BL anime, danmei, and manhua I've been obsessed with since 2020.

If you haven't watched MDZS, or Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, I highly recommend it. The world building, music, the characters, the animation and raw feelings it pulls out of you.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian's love is only a part of the series, the depth of their feelings cannot be matched by anything after what they’ve gone through together. No boundaries to their relationship and not even death stops their love.

Lan Zhan let go of everything to protect Wei Ying and tried to feel the pain he felt. They went through life and death together. It was literally them against the world. Even though they had no one by their side, they were with each other.

I still have to catch-up with The Untamed... XD I always play their song, "WANGXIAN" before "Mourning for Love."

[oasisdawn]

Goneril Capp and her Family - Round 1

I don't know what possessed me to play these guys as the second family but I was setting them up and here we are.

Yeah, I can't profess enough how much you're not having another kid, man.

Aww, Desdemona is playing with Ariel.

At this point in this house it is who wants to do what and who is free to do it. They are worse than the Broke's.

A family picture, I like taking with this family when I play

Albany and Goneril is not in love. They are barely friends but they still dressed up in their birthday suit for a chat. Because Goneril has so much business career related skill and she probably worked a while and the family should have more than just 20k in their account. I think Albany spent their money on something. He is vein but a good dad and my mind just immediately goes to either buying expensive clothes or having a gambling problem.

What I HC for them is Albany somehow lost their savings, they lost their house and haven't had much to live off on and because it was his fault they have a sour relationship now, at the start. Anyways, they didn't woohoo just chatted and then left.

Albany has found a job in education and him being a family sim I usually put him to that job. Business career didn't come up so Goneril is at home with Ariel. Look how happy she is!

Kid, why are you trying to play with the puddles outside?? You have every toy inside the house. Really do not like toddlers in this game.

Meanwhile Miranda wanted to get a job in either music or be a slacker and I see her as a music girl and not a slacker and she finally found one. This is her just helping out the kids. Goneril is exhausted, Albany is working and they all have crappy beds so... no one's getting enough rest.

Didn't have a place to put a tub inside the house and she refused to use the potty.

Aww look at that little devil poop herself right after her bath (the aww was sarcastic btw)

Somehow Miranda is doing very well in school and hold a career but she still has no luck in love. Her first kiss wish has been locked for ages and I can't invite Mercutio over because %100 there will be a fight with someone in the house.

So I took her out to check out the Veronaville community lots. They are complete duds xD

Then I added my Narwhal Arms Nightclub, ignore the blue flashing door there. It was okay but no luck with other teenagers so she went back home.

They needed fun and red hands is my go to in these poor situations.

This wasn't me, they kissed on their own. I guess they still have some feelings for each other.

Finally someone in the house had enough for smart milk!

Just place the kid right into the stairs

Goneril is so happy to have this many kids xD

We waited for a few days and there were no openings for business so she called her father and asked for his help. (I used hacked computer to get her the job xd) And she's off!

Nah, have dinner.

She was born for this.

I hear the grow up sounds and spot Ariel sparkling and realize I forgot her birthday and there she is and I hear the sounds again!

Then I look outside and see that Hal has grown up and the first sounds I heard was his xd Sorry I missed it, man

I roll and he got the Fortune Aspiration. A Capp through and through

This is the kids room btw. I had a bunk bed but it conflicts with the sleep in your bed mod so had to be this

Ariel's all grown up!

[bonniehooper]

COMMUNITY REWATCH, 2x16: “Intermediate Documentary Filmmaking”

-Wait, is Abed filming?

-Well, at least they followed up on how they ended the last episode.

-Abed got Garrett to help him with the documentary? How'd he do that?

-Of course, Pierce is lying about dying to "prove a point" to the group.

-How did Pierce get the hospital to agree to any of this?

-Pierce: "Shirley, we both know we're the most hated in the group." Shirley: "We do?" Wait, you I get Pierce, but how do you figure Shirley is anywhere near the same realm as you?

-Wow, what an asshole. He's really going to give everyone stuff that will probably make them hate each other. Jesus Christ, Pierce.

-He did not call Britta "sour face".

-Britta: "Wow, Pierce, this is surprising. After what you gave Shirley, we thought you were playing mind games." Oh, he is Britta. You just don't see it yet.

-Pierce: "Of course, if you're so inclined, you could write your own name in there." And there's the mind games, Britta.

-Wow, that's so fucked up to tell Jeff you found his dad and that he's on his way.

-Holy shit, it's LeVar Burton.

-Troy's face as he just stares at LeVar.

-I love that Shirley thinks Pierce only screwed with her, when he is in fact screwing with everyone, hers is just a little more obvious.

-Troy: "I told Pierce a thousand times, I never wanted to meet LeVar in person! I just wanted a picture! You can't disappoint a picture! I hate you, Pierce! I hate you so much!"

-Annie, don't be rude to the nurse.

-That tiara looks cheap as hell.

-Shirley, you are literally doing exactly what Pierce wants you to do. You're stewing and getting mad about being given a disc that you haven't even listened to and let's be honest, probably doesn't even have the group saying anything negative about you.

-Jeff: "Get this thing out of my face and don't you dare intercut this with footage of me freaking out." *proceeds to do exactly that*

-LeVar trying to engage Troy in conversation is so funny.

-Not Troy singing the Reading Rainbow theme in the bathroom while crying.

-Annie: "What does it mean?" Pierce: "It means that you're my favorite." Annie: "What does that mean?!" Good question, Annie.

-See Shirley, you could of had a nice day if you hadn't played right into Pierces hand.

-Pierce, he did warn you if you were screwing with him about his dad, he would beat the shit out of you. So, how did you think this was going to end?

-Pierce: "You guys think I'm some kind of a joke!" Jeff: "This isn't disproving the theory!" Pierce: "Good point." Jeff: "What'd you say?" *proceeds to go after pierce again*

-I love that Annie convinced herself that Pierce was trying to teach her a lesson with the tiara, but no, Annie is just Pierce's favorite.

-Why did we film Annie coming out of the bathroom?

-Pierce: "Jeff and I kind of became like father and son today." Jeff: "No, we did not." I knew that was coming.

-What the fuck? Why were they continuing to torture poor Troy?

[redxpranger]

January 26, 2025

I went out with Rax again last night, and as always, our conversation was incredible.

The moment he got into the car, he introduced me to a game he recently played that left him crying for an entire day. The story behind it was so fascinating that I couldn’t help but get curious. I decided I’d play it today after breakfast. If it moves me to tears like it did him, I’ll definitely write about it. Haha!

Whenever we hang out, I’m the one who picks him up and drops him off at his house. We like going to this Bar and Grill near his place. What’s funny is that most of the people who go there are about the same age as our parents. Last night, we were surprised when we saw Rax’s mom hanging out with her friends. Seeing older people enjoy themselves like that always makes me happy.

As the night went on, we started teasing each other about dating, joking that it would give us a new best friend. We’ve actually made a pact: if either of us starts dating someone, we’ll stay close and even try to be friends with each other’s partners. But neither of us is ready for a relationship, so we ended up talking about meeting new people instead. Who knows? Maybe we’ll find a new friend—our own “Ted” or “Barney.”

At one point, the conversation turned serious. I opened up to him about something I’d been thinking about for a while—my relationship with solitude. I told him that I’ve grown so used to being alone that I sometimes feel like I don’t function well without my alone time. It’s been on my mind since last year, this effort to understand myself better—what I like, what I don’t, and how I’ve always found comfort in my own space.

Even as a child, I loved being by myself. My mom loves to tell this story about how I’d play with my toys in an empty room, and if someone walked in, I’d quietly gather my things and find another room to play in. Thinking about it now, I’ve had this “bubble” around me since I was a kid—a strong, safe bubble that’s become my sanctuary, my home.

I shared my fears about relationships with Rax, something I’d never told anyone before. I worry that being so solitary might be hard for a partner to understand. For instance, if I ever live with someone, I’d need us to have separate bedrooms—not an everyday thing, but for those days when I just want to be alone. Rax was surprised by this side of me, even though he considers himself a solitary person, too. Am I weird for thinking this way? I hope not.

Rax has traveled a lot over the past five years, especially to Japan, where he goes at least twice a year. His travel stories are fascinating—he’s made friends not just in Japan, but also in France and Scotland. His experiences are fascinating, though I’ve noticed he’s become a bit distant from Filipino people. He mentioned seeing things during his travels—especially at airports—that made him frustrated with Filipinos. He even said he doesn’t want to marry one. 🥴😂

We ended up talking about culture, which reminded me of a paper I recently wrote about how media affects child development. I shared with Rax how heartbreaking it is to see the unique cultures of different provinces and cities gradually fading away—especially in modernized places like Davao. As I spoke, I got so caught up in my emotions that I started using big hand gestures and raising my voice without even realizing it. It’s something I always do when I feel strongly about a topic.

That reminded me of something from college: my friends used to call me “conyo” because of the way I spoke. I explained to Rax that it wasn’t by choice—my parents didn’t let us speak fluent Bisaya when we were kids. We lived in a squatter area back then, and my father, who came from a poor family, worked hard to give us a better life. Even though we had a decent house, we were surrounded by wooden shacks and kids without formal education. My parents believed that speaking like the locals would hold us back in life, so they insisted we avoid it.

But I hated that rule! It made me feel out of place, especially when I had to speak Bisaya at work or in markets. So, I taught myself to speak it better, and now I even use it with my parents. However, there was one moment that stung—when I was getting water one day, my dad said, “You’ve been influenced too much by the people you hang out with. You’re too Bisaya now.” He sounded disappointed, and that hurt.

I told Rax how frustrating it is to feel like I can’t fully embrace my own language, especially since I’m from Mindanao. Avoiding it feels disrespectful to where I come from. Rax understood because his grandmother in Agusan often complains that her grandchildren don’t speak their native language anymore.

We talked a lot about globalization and how it’s slowly erasing parts of our culture. It breaks my heart to see how little some people appreciate their roots. I love this country and its diversity, but it’s sad to think we’re losing pieces of it bit by bit.

Our conversation went on late into the night, touching on all sorts of topics. But for now, this is where I’ll leave it. Nights like these remind me how much there is to reflect on—not just about myself, but about the things that matter to me.

// Around 2:00 a.m., we passed by a park and decided to stop and walk around. I was a bit drunk and still wasn’t done venting my frustrations. As always, Rax was patient, quietly listening as I let it all out.

[lcstxsculx]

Rolling his eyes he turned to meet the eyes of the other Reaper. “I doubt he sent you so what is this, a social call? My anger or potential anger is none of your concern, although I wouldn't mind having a little fun with a few annoyances before we return to our roles.” Shrugging his shoulders his head tilted to the side, letting out a slight hiss. “Who hurt you little reaper? We will likely be seeing each other again at some point whether we like it or not. Share, it may help you feel better.” His voice had turned smooth, in reality, he had no intention of using anything the other may tell him for anything other than his gain. “We could do a few reapings together if you desire, although Death may get a little jealous” he teased, this was already a fun game to play

"No, this is not a social call this is a call to threaten your life if you hurt my father call. I will find a way to reap you myself if you do and I will make it very painful for you. I don't think he knows what he's doing getting mixed up with a man like you but I will say this much you had better not be playing with him or I'm going to play with you." Issac then looks at Jim and laughs with a tilt to his head "Do you really think that I'm stupid enough to give you something that you can use against me later? If I want to take care of someone I will and if Death doesn't like it he can suck ass for all I care." He narrows his eyes and comes closer to him "I wouldn't get to comfortable with Death Jim, he goes through lovers like shit goes through a goose, very quickly and he will promise you anything to get you into bed. I should know I find most of the poor asses who end up under him and I've heard what he says to get them to stay." Issac cocks an eyebrow at Jim then shakes his head "There would be nothing for him to be jealous of because I have no interest in you whatsoever besides wanting to kill you if you hurt him. He knows that too, he always knows what his reapers are thinking."

@kingofthewebxxx

[m1ckeyb3rry]

LMFAO THE “what a weird ass dream” start has me REELING like oh honey you’re in for a rude awakening (literally)

Ok I paused to type that ^ and was gonna keep commenting in my notes as I went as if I were annotating but then I got too engrossed and forgot LMAOAO but anyways

STOPPPP KARASU??? SHDKSHSJS I will not swerve iwillnotswerve….but gardener Karasu AHHHDGHS it’s just giving more sweetheart humble Karasu I can’t

Ok pause SHSH the way you write Otoya is so?? >>>>>>> like ok I’m back on track now I want this Otoya LMAOAOA he’s like the perfect balance between go with the flow do what I want chill Otoya and deadly assassin ninja Otoya also that deal they made>>>>>> I’m seriously waiting for Y/n to succeed

Hiiragis also such an ass I love it because it also kinda reminds me of him in canon?? But I also never was really partial to him in the manga either so I love seeing him full villain here, also the constant distinction between Y/N being like her own (?) vs associated as. Hiiragi is something I really enjoy!! Idk I just kinda love the set up like we KNOW this mc is gonna be different and a lot more selfish and independent?? Like the constant distinction in identity is so satisfying to read for some reason like it’s refreshing to see y/n not try to reclaim the name

But yeah omg otoya <333 I mean I was already an otoya fan before hollyhock but this just opened my eyes to another Otoya Avenue and I LOVE IT can’t wait for the next installment…(also just out of curiosity how many installments do you think this’ll end up being? Very excited hehe)

Eita nation has been fed thank you for the feast

-Karasu anon

LMAOO i felt like it made sense that she wouldn’t believe what had happened considering she’s prone to nightmares and the entire situation is kinda crazy 😭 like yukimiya secretly betraying her family and otoya almost killing her…i wouldn’t want to believe it either 😔💔

HAHAHA omg well i’m glad you were engrossed in it at least 🤩🙏🏻

DO YOU SEE WHAT I’M SAYING ABT THEM LOWKEY HAVING A MEETCUTE like him waking her up while she’s sleeping on the bench swing in the garden surrounded by trees and flowers is so romance novel shoujo anime coded to me 😩 unfortunately y/n ruins it by being all “i can’t trust you 😐” and “you have a stupid name 😨” and “my half brother and father would kill you if they saw what you’re up to 🫣” LMAOOO poor karasu 😓 i’m excited to write more of their interactions though!!

AHHH YESSS i’ve been doing my best to incorporate his more chill go w the flow canon personality into his role as a ninja who kills whoever he’s told to!! it’s def a balance because if he’s too unserious then it’s almost disingenuous to the story itself but if he’s too proper and grave abt things he doesn’t feel like himself anymore?? idk but omg the deal…i’m so excited to write how it all plays out HAHAHA it’s going to be super fun i think!!

hiiragi is so horrible in this story but considering he was already kind of a douche in canon i don’t think it’s too terrible that i’m writing him like this!! i agree that he’s not one i cared much for in the manga either (he only even appears in epinagi for the most part and he’s antagonizing my man the whole time so we’re automatically enemies for that) so i don’t mind writing him in full villain mode here!! and yeah for y/n the name hiiragi has only ever been used to hurt her so even though she acknowledges that they’re her family and she’ll do her best to look out for them she’s also hyper aware that she’s different and her own person. her relationship to the hiiragi clan will evolve as the story goes on and her character develops and i think it’ll be interesting to watch how much things change from the beginning of the story to the end

HOLLYHOCK OTOYA MY BELOVED 💖💖💖 he and y/n are truly meant for each other…mr “your life is a game to me” and miss “i want you to belong to me” UM?? i almost considered going back and adding the toxic relationships tag but honestly the relationship itself isn’t even that toxic (if you can set aside all the murdering and death threats) it’s just between two very questionable individuals 😭 somehow it makes it much more fun to write than if they were perfect and normal though?? and honestly makes otoya more appealing to me LMAOAOA

hmm i’m not quite sure how many chapters it’s going to be but definitely a lot!! i’d be surprised if it was less than ten although ig it just depends on how long certain things take me to write 🤔 but i def anticipate it being on the longer side HAHA idk if it’ll quite get the opportunity to join the 100k+ club as many of my other fics have but for sure it’s going to be quite a lot…we’re still in the setup phase/prologue arc almost atm?? like these are relatively small-scale conflicts compared to what goes on later in the story so i don’t see it being less than 30-40k words (although again yk how accurate my predictions usually end up being — aka not very 😟)