#yeah these aren't the best but i don't care

[merps]

Note: some changes were made for screen readers to properly parse words. The original style generally is all lowercase and uses shorthand like "abt" instead of "about", "w" for "with", and "ik" instead of "I know"

[ID 1: A reddit post titled, "AlTAH for 'training' a guy 'like a dog'?" that reads:

I (23F) have recently started seeing this guy (26M). he's super pretty, but he's kind of emotionally unavailable and he's alluded to an unstable/unhealthy childhood.

for context, i also work with socializing abused and neglected dogs at a local shelter and i think how much time i spend with the dogs is impacting the way i interact with ppl.

when we were on a date i started subconsciously making mental notes about him like the notes id make abt a dog. for example, i noticed when we went out to dinner i noticed he ate really quickly and was very anti-sharing (resource guarding) but when i offered to pay and suggested dessert it seemed to make him really happy and a little calmer (food-motivated); he's really particular about his car (territorial/crate aggression); he likes when i pick where we go/ what we do (eager to please), etc. so, ive started using the tactics id use on a dog with similar problems.

recently a friend (22F) pointed out that it's weird that i keep peanut M&Ms on me w the specific purpose of offering the guy one when i see him, and offering them again whenever i can tell he feels vulnerable. she said that im being an asshole bc he's a person, not a dog so i shouldn't be "training him like one."

i don't think that's fair, im not trying to control him or anything, i just want him to feel comfortable w me the same way i need the animals im helping to be comfortable with me. humans and animals aren't THAT diff after all, we all just want to feel safe and cared for. the guy hasn't noticed yet as far as i can tell. the problem is, my "technique" is yielding really positive results.

AITAH? should i stop?

/End ID 1]

[ID 2: Screenshot of an edit to the previous post that reads:

[start all caps] Updates / Clarifications [end caps]

for everyone asking me if i've seen the big bang theory episode with this plotline: i have not

for everyone saying they think i am autistic: probably, yeah. i haven't been tested but maybe i should

i do not have loose m&ms in my pocket bc then they'd get all melty and gross - i keep them in a bag in my purse

I know the title was clickbait-y so i want to make some things clear. i didn't think of it as "training" til my friend said it was like i was training him, and that made me feel weird (and it's why i made the post)

i am not and never have been trying to "modify" behavior. what i noticed in him and what i notice in animals were stress responses. we only get aggressive over our food if we believe someone's gonna take it away. we get defensive over our spaces if we reasonably feel like they'll be violated. applies to both animals and ppl. i was trying to establish trust the way i best know how to lol

if he never shared fries and never wanted to park next to a car with wide doors again, that'd be fine w me tbh. i know he's not a dog, so he's not at risk of being euthanized or something

/End ID 2]

[ID 3: Continuation of the above edit:

[start all caps] On to the update proper yay! [end all caps]

so, to all the ppl who told me i should tell him what im doing - you were right and that's what i did. turns out i was [start all caps] very wrong [end all caps] about him not noticing what i was doing - he apparently put two and two together pretty quickly after i started doing it. he didn't tell me he was on to me tho, because he liked it and was worried id get embarrassed and stop if i knew that he knew. so we talked it out and it ended up not being a very big deal at all and im probably gonna keep having m&ms because they're good. that's all i got for yall lol

/End ID 3]

sickens me to my stomach. how dare this guy get to live my dream.

[dotthings]

mid-late S10 Destiel things:

Robbie Thompson in S9 introducing Cain's story and Colette followed by Robert Berens in S10 "you're living my life in reverse" is chef's kiss baton pass for the destiel long game. CINEMA!!!! Pay attention this was not accidental!!!

Dean entrusting the blade to Cas instead of handing it back to Crowley is so weighted. Crowley was the fling. His wild summer. Cas is someone he has feelings for that he trusts, in it for the long haul.

The Executioner's Song deleted scene. With Cas and Crowley taunting each other about how in love with Dean they are. "All in a desperate effort to save your boyfriend." "Maybe he's your boyfriend."

Dean's confession, which yes that is also about Dean himself and him thinking beyond just hunting and being a killer and what else he wants and bi Dean coding not just about Cas but it is also about Castiel. Now, um… recent events, uh… make me think I might be closer to that than I really thought. And…I don’t know. I mean, you know, there’s – there’s things, there’s…people, feelings that I-I-I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time. The priest says "Go a little deeper, perhaps", and Dean answers "Yeah. Yeah, I’m just starting to think that… maybe there’s more to it all than I thought." Dean is looking for a deeper (romantic) connection, he's bi coded, Cas is queer coded, and Cas is right there and S10 has some things going on with them. So without it taking away from Dean's individual arc and themes whatsoever. It's about Cas.

Cas getting to punch Metatron who killed Dean was very satisfying, and how interesting Metatron is still so fixated on Cas. Wants to connect with Cas. Back in S9, he dressed up in a trenchcoat, wanting to emulate him. Envies Cas. Metatron who in S9 called Cas out on how he drapes himself in the flag of Heaven but it's really all about saving Dean, asks Cas in S10, "what are you...what is your mission now" and we know the answer, and so does Metatron, we know he knows because he already said it in S9 and now he's just...taunting Cas with it. Anyway, ongoing theme of angelic resentment, and perhaps in this case even some envy, of the connection Dean and Cas have.

Dean being so happy to see Cas return to the bunker and his grace has been restored and Dean calls it a win. While Cas is practically blushing and doesn't seem to know where or how to stand or what to do with himself he's so pleased. Ugh they're so adorable!!!! And ridiculous!!!!!

Dean's subconscious--manifested as the Benny hallucination--saying it would "ruin" Cas, as well as Sam, to have to kill Dean. So some part of Dean's brain realizes how much Cas loves him (They are both close to Dean, Sam is Dean's sibling, Cas is Dean's best friend and...whatever else he is. The relationships aren't the same, they're both close).

Dean and Cas "take your daughter to work day" with Claire, Dean trying to comfort Claire by explaining that because of her father's sacrifice, Cas was able to save the world. Dean calls Jimmy Novak a "hero" but gives Cas credit for saving the world. Dean reassuring Cas "it's good. It's a good thing" that he wants to continue his atonement with the Novak family but reassuring Cas that he's not a dick (while Cas is so much harder on himself than Dean ever is). Dean and Cas bickering, Cas acting like a worried spouse about Dean, and persuading Dean to stay behind with Claire, with orders "no fighting. Both of you." Sound more married why don't you!!!!! Claire telling Dean to look after Cas...like...this girl noticed some things. That they're close. & sensed Dean cares about Cas too.

Dean being terrified that Cas will be the next one chewed up and spit out by the quest to get the mark off his arm.

Cas calling the bunker "home" for the first time

The Dean and Cas fight scene. "everyone you know, everyone you love, they could be long dead. Everyone except me. I'm the one who will have to watch you murder the world"

Given that Rowena couldn't harm Dean and how powerful the mark it, it seems unlikely Cas can actually kill MoC Dean. And instead of turning away, Cas indicates he'll be watching over Dean for all eternity, both of them immortal, and Cas having to witness Dean become that, and Cas unable to abandon Dean.

"Dean, stop" ("She loved me unconditionally. She forgave me. She only asked for one thing." "To stop.")

Cas's hand wrapped around Dean's wrist and the way Dean's hand shakes on the blade. He can't kill Cas even if he's strong enough to.

Rudy the random hunter thrown in there, just so it doesn't get too obvious that it's Cas's beaten up face that's haunting Dean the most. Dean seeing Cas's face in the mirror.

And the deleted scene from Brother's Keeper where Dean dreams about Cas. "You have an admirer."

One might ask also why invent out of the blue a backstory for Rowena involving the child she cared for more than her own son, when the grace of an angel in love with a human would have made a lot more sense to use for the mark removal spell.

[unhealthyobsessiveworm]

twitter is currently full of people shaming fics and it's actually frustrating me so much because. imagine you're walking through an area and you come across an interesting building. you decide to walk in completely of your own volition. and inside there is someone else. they work There but they don't work For You and actually. actually. it can't be called work at all because they're not getting paid. now imagine you don't ask for any food but that person is already making something for themselves and they decide to make some for you too. they give you the food. and then they leave.

that's it. that's the entire interaction.

you take a bite of the food. whether or not you like it is outside of anyone's control. but here's the thing: the person who made the food isn't standing over you and demanding that you finish the scraps. if you don't like the food then all you have to do is leave. maybe it's the tomatoes, the sauce, the lettuce; it doesn't matter because if you don't want it then you Don't Have To Have It. and the person who made it will never know because you are not the first person to come inside this building and you will not be the last. there is going to be someone who will come inside and take their own taste and love it so much they eat their own share and then eat the food you left behind because they want more.

and it's. it's that easy.

yeah, fanfics aren't always going to compete for the world's best prose or what-the-hell-ever. but someone still made this for themselves with so much love and they decided to SHARE IT because they think other people might want that love too. my mother never worked as a professional chef but i love the dinner she makes all the same. it doesn't have to be some intricate masterpiece. if you don't like it then you can walk out. you can hit the back button.

to call fanfic "fast-food" or boil it down to "kpop omegaverse" is to make the choice to stand up, find the person who made you a bowl of soup full of love and care and tenderness and time, and yell that it tastes awful and they need to try harder.

so yeah, it IS pretentious to try and put "real books" above fanfiction when you're doing it insultingly. sure, there are good things to be gathered from classic literature. but there are things that can be collected from fanfiction, too. the two mediums can coexist as separate forms of writing. they don't need to be compared. a fancy steak dinner might impress my taste buds but a bowl of chicken noodle soup will warm me inside and out.

people who enjoy fanfiction are finding love in the nooks and crannies they enjoy being curled up in. conversely, people who enjoy published literature are finding love in new and exciting places. neither version of finding happiness is intellectually or morally higher than the other

[candescentkpop]

You turn the darkness into light

Oneus: Valkyrie

Oneus Part 85 / ∞

[jull-reblogs]

Well I'm glad!! Don't expect anything like the first chapter though haha, I'm not there yet. It would be more like a sneak peek and something to let people know that this project exists. Also giving myself deadlines like this helps and makes it more "real".

If you think Mediterranean keto would be the right choice for you then go for it!! Not everyone needs to stick to 25g of carbs a day :D

I think I could find some equivalent to this STAR roll here! And agreed, meat is always the best part for me 😁 I guess I could just try to make tonkotsu soup myself ^^

Well one of my coworkers once brought us homemade matcha tiramisu and it was so good!! And there's this Japanese bakery next to where I work that makes matcha brioches filled with cream or matcha cookies. I can't eat this stuff anymore but it's amazing, I recommand trying it if you can find something similar!

Haha yes Mangalitsa pigs are adorable and black-footed cats are the cutest serial killers! I had never seen Jacob sheep before and wow, they're impressive.

Oh now fishing in magma sounds like a great concept!! I admit I'd love to see that in a future game!!

Haha it's fine, don't worry! It's interesting to me that you think in such detail about culinary traditions and all since I tend to not put much thought into these aspects of worldbuilding. Gives me a different perspective.

Oh I see, this is interesting. I remember that you thought Malon might have Gerudo origins and now I see how this could be possible!

Yes I didn't mean that Vilia should be allowed into Gerudo Town, definitely not. I just think punishing him would be harsh when he made it possible for Link to save the city (and the kingdom). The guards should definitely be more careful about voe dressed as vai haha.

TotK should have made gloom sickness a true epidemic, things would have looked a lot more threatening then. I'm still thinking about the details but I want a lot more characters to be affected in my rewrite (though of course saving all of them one by one would be redundant) and the remedy would also be harder to find. I'm also planning to add different kinds of illnesses depending on what's happening locally, for example Castle Town will suffer from something unique due to its proximity to the Castle und what's underneath it.

I tend to see magic as something really rare especially in BotW's Hyrule so I don't share that headcanon about Wild's mother being a magess, but she could definitely be the reason he's skilled at cooking and knows which ingredients to use!

Yeah I thought just getting rid of the mud by washing it away was a bit easy. It should have made the Zora or anyone who touched it really sick.

Yes I'm sure the Gerudo would still need external help from time to time for things they aren't used to doing and in that case they would use the shelter as you suggested. At least we know in OoT that they needed the carpenters from Kakariko to repair the bridge in Gerudo Valley, so that can definitely happen.

Haha yes I think we won't agree on Time! Except about the troubles that come with waking up in the body of a young man after seven years of magical coma, of course.

Yes they have to extend the cast in ancient Hyrule and to give the ancient Sages more character. I guess we might finally get to see them without their masks and learn their names (though I think we shouldn't need a new game for that).

In French the game will be called "Les Chroniques du Sceau" which I think is better than if they'd gone with "L'Ère du Sceau" again. Not sure how that would translate, does Chronicles of the Seal sound weird? Chronicles of the Imprisoning War maybe?

Well I'm not planning to buy the Switch 2 at the moment anyway! And TotK was such a disaster for me that don't want to spend more money on a spin-off without making sure it's any good before.

Isn't it funny that they didn't even mention the audio memories in the Switch 2 direct and it was advertised in a different video? I was completely uninterested in the GPS or the ability to share builds in TotK but THAT would give me a reason to replay the games. Also now it seems we'll also be able to repair weapons and I'm like ??? So we're adding such a major feature through an app and we're not even mentioning it?? Weird communication choices haha.

@aikoiya The post was getting long again so here's a new one!

I knew you were going to answer that saying "this is unfair" isn't real life logic haha (and I agree that life hasn't been fair to Sky and Sun anyway). It's just that such an ending would probably leave me feeling unsatisfied and even a bit robbed, and I think it would require a lot of other changes to be made to the story in order for it to work properly. But anyway you're right, as things are now this would just be happening behind the scenes so what I'm saying doesn't really make sense. But just thinking about it changes my perception of SS in a way I don't really enjoy, so it's not a theory I favor.

Yes in that setting I'm pretty sure that the other Sun would not make herself known to Link and Zelda and would let them have their happy ending. But I think Zelda would likely suspect her existence and know that something is wrong. I guess even Link could notice that the Temple's doors are suddenly open and would ask Impa a few questions.

I had no idea Tingle called Farore the Goddess of Wind in WW, so I went on a little quest to see if I could find the same quote in the French version of the game. Apparently it's in Tingle's description of Outset Island and I never had the chance to play with the Tingle Tuner mode. I can't find the same quote in French anywhere and I don't even know if this was included in the HD remake (I guess I'll have to wait for a Switch version to find out… if they ever release one). This has me wondering if this quote isn't something exclusive to the English version, but I can't be sure and I'd like to know what the original Japanese text says. The French wikis mention that Farore is the Goddess of Wind in WW but don't provide any quote, it just looks like the pages were translated from English but that they couldn't find the same quote in French. It's really frustrating!!

Anyway that's a bit weird because WW already establishes Zephos as the God of Wind, and he seems to be a minor deity compared to Farore. The way I see it, wind is just the element that Farore tends to be associated with, and since a lot of myths might have been lost with Hyrule in WW this could just be a mistake on Tingle's part. I mean this is the game that gave us the Golden Triumph Forks haha.

I'm not limiting Nayru/the Golden Goddesses to a singular domain, quite the opposite ^^ To me Nayru being the Goddess of Wisdom includes different concepts such as order, law, science, magic, etc., and even time (since she's introduced as the creator of the world's fondamental laws), while calling her the Goddess of Time doesn't include all of that. That's why I wrote that I found it a bit restrictive. But sure she could have both titles, the same way Farore could be known most commonly as the Goddess of Courage and also called the Goddess of Wind in some situations.

Oh I didn't think of the blocks from OoT! I would say though that they don't really use any time powers, they're just random blocks that appear or disappear for some reason when Link plays the Song of Time (it's just as absurd as playing the Song of Storms to open holes in the ground haha). But yes they were blue and associated with time, and of course Nayru is too. The difference with Hylia in my theory is that Nayru created the rules of time (if that makes sense) among other fundamental laws, while Hylia's power specifically allows her to manipulate time and foresee the future. In a way I see Hylia as Nayru's spiritual daughter who inherited some of her powers over time (and that's why the color purple she's represented with is very close to blue).

The Master Sword has also been depicted as either blue or purple though, so that asks the question of the true color of all of these things! Nayru is definitely linked to time so it makes sense that the timeshift stones are in Lanayru (and Hylia also doesn't have a province named after her).

"From the edge of time" could definitely just be a poetic way to say that Hylia kind of recorded a message for Link before dying haha. But I find it interesting that she would phrase it like that, I like to see it as a clue.

Well if Zelda simply sent Link to a point further back in time, wouldn't there be two Links existing at the same time in the Child Timeline? But sure Zelda creating a brand new timeline also raises a few questions that kind of... make my head hurt. I'm not sure what happens exactly, I've always wondered! All we know is that Link finds himself in the Master Sword's chamber with the Door of Time already open, which hints at things happening in a different way this time (because he definitely doesn't have the three spiritual stones and the Ocarina of Time yet since this is before Ganon's coup, and the ending seems to imply that this timeline's Zelda doesn't know him yet). That's why I believe Zelda might have done something a bit more complex than sending him to a point further back in time, but there's no way to be sure. The Triforce of Courage is also visible on Link's hand during the ending, and we also know thanks to TP that the Triforce is still separated in the Child Timeline despite Link and Zelda preventing Ganon from entering the Sacred Realm this time. So maybe Zelda isn't able to change everything? It's complicated haha.

Anyway, whether OoT Zelda creates a new timeline or just sends Link further back in time, that's still huge time powers and that's not something Link is able to do by playing Zelda's Lullaby.

I also believe it is more likely that Talon inherited the ranch. True, Talon might not always have been so lazy, but maybe if that was the case the game could have hinted at hit. All we know is that he leaves his daughter alone with Ingo and only comes back after Link deals with the situation, which does not make him look so great. And he only promises to work harder after that.

I'm kind of bad with names so I'm impressed you're going through all of that trouble to rename the settlements!!

I haven't gotten to developping the technology that much yet, but I'm really interested in seeing what the different races could do with it! I love the idea of using the Sheikah to infiltrate the Yiga bases. I wish TotK had done something like that and shown the Sheikah helping Link that way.

Same, I was so excited when I heard about these pirates… and then so disappointed to find nothing more than a bunch of bokos with no backstory.

Vignoble is not related to noble (though I kind of make the association in my mind, especially since vignobles are sometimes called châteaux).

Yes I thought you could maybe use clos! Aquaticlos is funny, it can work! Though maybe you could use the same logic as for the raisins (I love this Raisins de Terre idea by the way, it makes sense!) and say that what the Zoras call a clos already refers to something that's underwater, since that's probably the case for most of what they cultivate.

I don't mind helping you with French, I'm glad to do so! You put so much effort and thought into this, it's really interesting.

[lyxchen]

Okay so I've heard this said a bunch of times and I'm gonna admit I thought like that too for a while but no, Gi-hun did not win the games because he was lucky. A lot of people think that's how he won because he never killed anybody but that's really not the point. Gi-hun won the games because a) he's smart and is able to look at things from a different angle, b) because he is a good and kind person who also believes in others and c) because of the goodness and care get got back from other people.

In the first game he survived because Ali saved him and that wasn't luck, that was Ali being a good person and helping somebody not get killed. Ali could've not caught him, let him die, he didn't even know Gi-hun at all at that point and he put himself in more danger too by having to hold on to a person while standing completely still but he still saved Gi-hun because Ali is a good person.

In the Dalgona game he quite literally Was Not Lucky. He decided to go with the umbrella which is the worst shape to pick and he probably would have died if he hadn't looked at the game in a different way and decided to change his strategy. Gi-hun is smart. He is also optimistic and so he tried something new and found a different way to beat that game.

In the third game he survived because he was smart and kind enough to listen to Il-nam. The other people in their group dismissed him as just an old man speaking but Gi-hun didn't and that way they had a good strategy to beat the other team. The same goes for him listening to Sang-woo's idea of running three steps and then stopping, which ultimately was what saved them. His group also chose him as their leader (who, as Il-nam said, needs to not seem weak or loose hope because then the whole team is doomed). His team trusted in him and his optimism and they were right to do so.

In the marbles game he won because he was once again kind and decided to team up with Il-nam and also because in the end Il-nam decided to "sacrifice himself" for Gi-hun because he showed him kindness before. Yes Il-nam didn't actually die but he also knew that Gi-hun had cheated and still let him continue on to the next game, probably because Gi-hun had been good and kind and caring towards him before, even though he really didn't have to be. Gi-hun also didn't know this but by teaming up with Il-nam he inadvertently ensured that Il-nam had a lot more fun in the games than he would have had, had everybody just ignored to "old, fragile man". Gi-hun was good to Il-nam throughout all the games and it ended up saving him in the marbles game.

In the fifth game it's only some small moments as Gi-hun isn't really involved in the game because he's the last number but still it wasn't just luck. First of all he was kind enough to give the number 1 to the player that asked him for it. Yes, that number was bad but he didn't know that and had he been selfish enough to say no to that other player he wouldn't have survived. Being the last to play in any game can end up being bad for you, still he decided to give up the number he picked because the other player asked him to. Secondly he also survived that game because Sae-byeok was kind enough to remind him of which glass tile to step on after he had forgotten which one it was. It's only small but she didn't have to tell him and still she did. Sae-byeok btw is also good to him because before that he was good to her and protected her (even though he was angry at her at first) and that way he was able to gain her trust.

Lastly he won the Squid Game because Gi-hun was kind to Sang-woo and because Sang-woo deep down was still a good person. There were probably many reasons as to why Sang-woo decided to kill himself in the end but part of it, I'm sure, was also because Gi-hun was a good friend to him. I mean Gi-hun was even willing to give up all the money and go back home with nothing gained if it meant that Sang-woo didn't have to die and would be able to come home with him. Gi-hun deserved that win and that money and in the end Sang-woo knew that. He also knew that Gi-hun would make sure to take care of Sang-woo's mother and that he wouldn't just take all the money for himself because Sang-woo knew that Gi-hun is a good person. (Gi-hun technically also won the Squid Game because he was good at it which is also him being smart)

So in conclusion and I hope y'all haven't stopped reading yet: Gi-hun didn't win the games because he was lucky. He didn't just sit around doing nothing and won anyways. He won because he was smart but even more importantly he won because of the kindness and goodness that exists in humans and that is especially present in him. He won because he had empathy, because people trusted him, because he got back from them what he gave to them first. He never killed anyone and we can clearly see that he Could Never kill anyone in those games but that's not his weakness. Just because he didn't let himself get corrupted and turned into what the games wanted him to turn into doesn't mean he won because of luck. Him not playing by those subtle, hidden rules that are made to force him to be bad, to not care about others and to give up his kindness actually means he was better than the games. He won because he didn't let them turn him into a monster. They tried really hard and they failed and that's how he won!! But also on top of that he also won because he isn't the only good person in this show. He also won because other people helped him, were kind to him and gave a shit about him. Each and every person that helped Gi-hun didn't have to do that. They all could have not helped him, Ali could have not caught him, Sae-byeok could have not told him which one was the correct glass tile, hell, she could have Lied to him about it and the only difference it would have made for the other players would have been them being one more dead person closer to winning all that money. But that's really not how humans are and act which is why all these people helped Gi-hun, helped each other in small or big ways and in the end his own kindness and the kindness that exists in other people is what lead to Gi-hun winning. That's not luck. That humans being good

[brionysea]

when max is depressed we know something's wrong because lucas says with his words that he knows something's wrong but when mike is depressed we don't think anything of it because will's right next to him rolling his eyes about how stupid straight people are

[the-nwah-embassy]

Alright, long ass thing under the cut, because who cares. But yeah, there are a lot of reasons I personally think that remaking Morrowind is a terrible fucking idea.

For starters, because not everything needs a cash-grabby new release/remake, especially when the studio has proven it has utterly lost the magic that made the initial games great. Look at the blandness that is Starfield. The cookie-cutter 'rpg' that is so soulless that even Sithis doesn't want it. It's just the latest fad in gaming to remake an old successful title whenever you need a little extra cash, and it's getting old. Fast.

Imo, Morrowind is just fine how it is. Hell, I'd argue that Oblivion is just fine how it is. I can see why people want a remaster, sure. The games are aged and sure as hell show that age, sure, but part of its aging is it has a complexity and nuance to it from way back when that most game studios can't/won't touch these days because everything has to be totally user friendly for the casual gamer to enjoy. And there's nothing wrong with user friendly! It's totally fine!--for some games. But others, like Morrowind, it literally sucks clean the soul of the game and leaves a husk.

In the same vein of your logic, you could also just not play Morrowind if you don't like it as is. Just because some people don't like it or the way it was made doesn't mean it needs to be remade to try and snag them into playing it again. It's like making Dark Souls/Elden Ring with an easy mode, or redoing Portal for people who don't like puzzle games. Not all games are for all people, and they don't need to be.

That's part of why games are so milquetoast and watered down these days-- because every game is trying to cater to every single person in the market to make the most amount of money possible. They aren't made with passion or love like so many of them were back in the day. The shitty capitalistic studios want everyone as a demographic, so in the end, the result is that no one truly is. Wide as an ocean, deep as a puddle. And don't confuse that with them caring about you and your opinions on games-- it's literally nothing but an attempt to get your money.

Look, I understand what you're saying. But remaking Morrowind is playing with fire (no Dunmer pun intended.) There's a litany of problems that comes with remaking older games like that, beyond even inviting new discourse.

For example, the lore of Skyrim and the reality of the game are vastly different because they wanted it to appeal to a regular 'fantasy' audience without having all of the strange, alien nature of Morrowind that might alienate potential players. As such, Morrowind, as it is, is 'unfriendly' and would need to have the edges shaved down and softened to achieve their sales goal and to even make back the money it took to remake it. Every remake is a risk, and companies minimize that risk by any means necessary. The integrity of their IPs mean nothing to them. Just look at the Fable reboot (RIP Lionhead.)

Morrowind is hostile at the best of times, and that's part of why it's so beloved. It's unique! It's alien! It's strange! And it's so damn hostile! You are an outlander in a hostile land that doesn't want you there! You aren't treated like a stud from the second mission like you are in Skyrim! You aren't the Hero of Kvatch, and it isn't an honour to meet you! These people do not like you, and you still have to save them. Even then, a lot of them still won't fucking like you! You are their reincarnated Lord, and they still show you no damn respect! You are hardened and disrespected and assaulted and insulted at every turn! The people want you dead! The creatures want you dead! The fucking landscape wants you dead! You contract a deadly disease and people won't even speak to you! You dare to become a vampire, and you're literally locked out of 90 percent of the game! People from different houses will threaten to kill you for so much as joining another house! Divayth Fyr! Crassius Curio! The Corprus refugees! The blight storms! Everything wants you dead! And when you kill back? The thread of prophecy has been unraveled and you've doomed the world! Reload, idiot!

Studios just don't make games like it anymore because they don't appeal to a broader audience. If they remake it, they would need to make that money back, and to do that, they'd need to gut a lot of it to make it more friendly and less 'archaic' to the modern player.

The lore, the land, the people, all of it would need to be completely redone and 'revamped'-- Skyrim-ized. I love Skyrim, and I think it's a great game for what it is, but there is no arguing that it's dumbed down from Morrowind exponentially. Shit like Morrowind hasn't been made in a while because it's complicated and frustrating to play (the combat system, the lack of 'convenient' fast travel, the journal entries rather than quest markers, some of the ridiculous shit like that Bosmer in Mournhold who will ask you for gold until you refuse and then utterly obliterate you next time you run into him, etc.) Remaking it in the same style would appeal to only a small demographic of people (the original players who still play enough to want to purchase it), which equals no money. They would need to broaden that range by 'modernizing' the game.

There's also the gigantic matter of contentious content in the modern age. The 'culture war' bullshit would cause Bethesda such a headache that they'd likely just remove any polarizing content all together-- which literally includes the main quest. Now, removing hideously awful things from older games can be a very good thing (when said things are unabashedly racist, outdated, offensive, etc.) But with Morrowind, many of these topics are literally the life's blood of the game itself. Your character develops a morality system based on what they see and experience, and can actively act against these things. It shows you how wrong these things are, rather than the game shouting it at you. There's nuance and precision to it. You are shown suffering and hatred and the worst parts of humanity (mer-anity? Merdom?), and then you are free to act on it. There are slaves you can free, bastards you can kill, and customs you can rail against. However, you can also choose to act for these things. It's an open game. You play how you choose.

The quest with the poor Khajiiti woman who was forced to swallow drugs and her slavers/captors ask you to deliver her somewhere for transport, for example. Sure, you can do just that and deliver her to her gruesome death, or you can abscond with her and deliver her to freedom instead. You get to pick. How do you think Beth would handle this quest in 2025? Without getting called 'woke'? Without someone calling it preaching?

The big bad guy you spend the entire game fighting against is literally a Dunmer supremacist who wants to forcefully kill/remove all foreigners from 'his' land and 'restore greatness to Resdayn.' You don't see how that might be a little bit of an issue in the modern day? Why that might upset the pissbabies who 'want to make things great again? a-hem a-hem' It would be considered 'woke' nowadays, which is a powderkeg of poor publicity for a studio (when the studio is fuckin' dumb enough to give a singular shit what anyone who unironically uses the word 'woke' as an insult might think) and that means poor reception, which means poor sales, which means no money. At the end of the day, all the studio cares about anymore is money, so they'll give up their moral backbone and make it blasé and less polarizing so as not to upset the 'make things great again' bitch-baby crowd in the hopes that they'll buy it.

(Honestly, Morrowind gave rise to some of the most annoying people on the planet. People who only play it because 'haha funney Dunmer slavery simulator game where farmtools are hahahah so funney racism™' and I do not want to see this shit again. I do not have the fucking strength.)

Anyways, If you're going to play Morrowind, I think you should play it the way the original creators intended. It's perfect as it is, flaws and all. I don't think it needs to be dumbed down and stylized in a modern way, because at best, it wouldn't add anything and at worst, it would literally gut it. The game is beloved for a reason. I totally understand why someone would think that a remake is a good idea (and honestly, if I thought for a single second that they would stay true to the game, I might even be for it) but I know they won't. All it takes is a single look at modern Bethesda to know they won't.

I totally get what you're saying. I do. I think that in an ideal world, a remake would be so cool. But we don't live in an ideal world. We live in this shitty one where remaking Morrowind is the worst thing I can think of happening to the poor game. I think leaving well enough alone is the best way. I totally respect your opinion. Please respect mine.

On a side note, you can look to game franchises like Grand Theft Auto, that when they remade them, they completely removed the ability to buy the old ones. I would sure as shit hope Bethesda is smarter than that, but it's always a possibility.

In wake of the Oblivion remake, I keep seeing people ask for Morrowind to be remastered next, and I am so sorry y'all, but that would literally be the worst thing that could physically happen to the game, and to me personally.

[fingertipsmp3]

Ughhhhhhh I hate writing and I hate not writing and I hate myself

[dan-crimes]

Mfs can't understand a blunt mf they always gotta try and read between the lines or straight up deny the words you're saying and deny how you feel

[sassyfever]

Okay but why is Meet the Robinsons so amazing, like I'm used to finding good movies long after their release but to find a movie of THIS level without even hearing anyone talk about it even a little bit. I was just trying to pass time and stumbled upon a masterpiece.

[canceriancryptid]

.

wow so apparently 30 tags is the limit, that's cool, not rereading any of that shit, the void can have it and my run on sentences

[kkusuka]

john price is a good man.

you can see it in the way he smiles as he orders his tea- everyday at 6:12am, herbal with two sugars- and as he stifles a laugh at the pun you leave on the side of his steaming cup- something about goldfish in a tank because you know he was military at some point- and he always, always, pours his change into the tip jar after you refuse to pocket the $50 he tries to hand you- he doesn't push because your manager is right there and he can't get his favorite barista in trouble.

and he is usually the only person in the shop that early- he knows that it picks up around seven so he makes sure he's there before that- and he's always up to talk about whatever you want to babble about as his drink steeps.

the new minecraft update and how you cried over it like you aren't a grown adult. ( 'it's embarrassing, crying over a mob in a video game that i've been plating since middle school. i am a grown adult, i should be crying over rent or taxes or something. 'i'd rather you not cry about anything, sweetheart').

how your roommate keeps leaving dishes in the sink and how it annoys you so much but you refuse to say anything about it. ('and i feel bad because we really get along and it's just this one thing that gets me but-' 'but nothin' sweetheart.' the you deserve to be taken care of, no chores, no worries goes unsaid)

how your manager makes you open and close the shop all alone even when he makes more than you. (that dick, john can make sure that you don't have to worry about mornings at least, he'll be there. you don’t have to worry about nights either, he'll get simon and johnny on it)

how your hourly wage just isn't cutting it anymore and you might have to find a second job to stay afloat. ('it's just a lot you know? i feel like i'm always fighting to keep my head above water.' 'you ever need help with anything you come to me, yeah sweetheart?' and you have no idea how much he means it.)

and eventually you have to seek him out. you got fired, your dick of a manager citing unprofessionalism and the company moving in another direction (it has nothing to do with the visit he got from that motherfucker in the cap with the union jack plastered on the front and some scot. but it really is his fault, john wouldn't have to do any of this if that snake would just treat you right). he doesn't even let you work your last day, just tells you to pack your locker and your check will be deposited next week.

john price is a good man and you know that because he gets you that second job. "bein' a barista is just like bein' a bartender. you'll be great sweetheart."

it's his bar you learn, just something small he and his colleagues bought after retiring from the SAS. you start working about four years, on the dot, after opening day- the man, kyle, says as he showed you around the building. he was your co-bartender, and johnny was some kind of chef for the minimal amount of food they served, and simon was security- whenever he was there anyway.

john mostly stayed in his office, save for the slower afternoon hours when he would join the four of you in your everlasting game of cards. (you've lost and you know it but they feel bad setting it into stone, so the game continues. kyle'll find a way to make johnny lose so you don't feel bad)

working at the bar was probably the best thing that happened to you in a long time. (best thing to happen to john too, but fucking your employee weeks after hiring them is bad business)

and to their credit, they keep you away from whatever side gig they have going on but you never feel out of place. (you don't question them when they randomly disappear in the middle of the week then come back at closing, brushing right past you into the back offices. you look past the blood, if there was an issue they would let you know).

that is until you get followed home by one of the regulars- it really was a one time thing, your car was in the shop and the walk isn't all that far in the daylight- and the only person you could think to call was your boss. john didn't leave the bar until the sun came out so you knew he wouldn't be asleep, and he told you to call him if you were ever in trouble and this was the closest you could get.

it took him less than five minutes to get to you and even less time to convince you that living so far was dangerous and that you could come stay with him until you found a nicer place. (you never question how he already had clothes in your size, or the exact hygiene products you had back in your old apartment.) but you let him guide you into his room, into his bed as he promises he'll make up the guest room another day. and you just let him hold you.

you don’t question how you never see the man again. you don't look twice as his name flashes across the tv screen and you don't think too far into his disappearance.

john price is not a good man, but you don't need to know that.

[chosolar]

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈ when I'm with you

street racer sukuna x fem!reader

streetracer!sukuna is arrogant and cocky for a reason. he knows he's the best and no one can compare to him when it comes to being the fastest.

streetracer!sukuna has had a few run ins with the police here and there for speeding ofc and reckless driving, but he has enough money to pay off the tickets. the police have gotten so many complaints about him that they are on a first-name basis with him, but sukuna has always managed to get out of trouble with them

streetracer!sukuna may seem like the biggest fuckboy but finds hooking up and relationships to be a waste of time. he doesn't know why he has a reputation of being a fuckboy when he hasn't been with a lot of girls. why would he spend his money on flowers and date nights when he can use it to buy parts for his car?

streetracer!sukuna drives 2 different cars - the car he often uses for racing is his custom-wrapped burgundy red supra mk5, modded to the gods. the other one is his daily car, a black gt4 that is his baby. both of his cars are unique and anyone knows that the dark red supra is his.

streetracer!sukuna is wealthy enough as it is, but with all he races he's won, he's able to provide himself without his family's money. his parents wanted him to take over as he's the oldest but refused to do so, feeling that his calling in life was not being in suits and meetings all day. his parents aren't happy with the career he chose but they support him by giving him a huge monthly allowance.

streetracer!sukuna met you for the first time at a gala he was forced to go to in place of his father. he was getting annoyed of the other guests asking when he'll be working with his father over and over again so he took off to an empty part of the building, hoping to relax before he goes back in again. sukuna loosens tie and opens the door that leads to the balcony, not expecting to see a lady already there. "oh sorry I didn't know someone was here already."

"oh no don't worry, I was just about to leave," you reassure him and smiled. sukuna sighs and walks over to the spot beside you, resting his arms on the top of the balcony railing. "you don't have to leave. did you come out for a breather too?"

you nodded, "yeah a little. it's my first time going to a gala and I wasn't expecting it to be so..."

"snobby? pretentious? all of the above?" he butts in, his interruption earning a laugh from you. "yeah just a little."

both of you kept quiet for a bit when sukuna speaks up to introduce himself and you reciprocate the action. he's silently glad that you don't know him, either through his family or as the reckless street racer. he ended up staying with you longer than expected but he wanted to continue getting to know so he asks for your number before heading back to the gala.

streetracer!sukuna usually spends his friday and saturday nights driving around when he's not racing. usually he cruises with gojo and geto, but sometimes sukuna prefers the silence of being by himself. he's used to it now though, often choosing to race with no passengers compared to the other racers.

streetracer!sukuna finds himself wanting your company after meeting you at the gala. with races taking place at night, sukuna likes that he has the daytime to meet with you. whether that was picking you up from work or taking you out to a breakfast date, sukuna is always wanting to spend time with you somehow.

streetracer!sukuna is uncharacteristically bashful when you ask him about racing and his cars. he usually loves talking about it and always brags about his cars whenever he gets the chance but when it came to you, he has a hard time. (it's because he's worried you'll think he's living a dangerous and irresponsible life and if it was anyone else he wouldn't care but you're the first person whose opinion he cares about). he makes sure to only tells you half-truths when you question him about racing - yes he goes fast (and has crashed into road barriers), yes the police have stopped him a couple times (he's been arrested a couple of times but is released the day after). he cares about how you perceive him so he tries to not inform you of the dangers he experiences with the career he's in.

streetracer!sukuna usually drives fast but when you're in the passenger seat, he is not going any more than 10 above the speed limit. he's a professional racer so he's used to driving at high speeds but he doesn't want to risk anything with you in the car. sometimes you'll ask him to do a pull which he reluctantly agrees to, but he doesn't even try to reach the red line. he knows his cars well but he thinks about the off-chance that something could go wrong.

streetracer!sukuna is elated that you don't judge him for what he does for a living. he knows that it's a non-traditional job and it can be unstable but for sukuna, it's a lucrative occupation. he asks you often to come with him during races with a large prize because he says you're his lucky charm, he actually just wants to show off. ever since you got together, he's earned more than enough for the both of you to live very comfortably.

streetracer!sukuna only lets you drive his car. word spread around that someone that's not sukuna was in the driver's seat of his supra AND his gt4, and even some of the guys texted sukuna to see if it was true. he asked you first if he can tell them that you guys are together, and immediately said yes when you let him. to confirm everyone's suspicions, sukuna posts on his instagram a photo of his cars side by side with you sitting down on the hood of the gt4 posing cutely with the caption "everything I love". it's the only picture that he has pinned on his profile (yess we love a king who shows off his girl)

streetracer!sukuna is the epitome of gentle giant to you. everyone knows him as the intimidating tall racer who has a resting bitch face and does not like talking to anyone, but he's such a giant softie when he's with you. when you're beside him, all of a sudden he's smiling and doesn't look like he wants to murder someone. other racers only come up to sukuna when you're with him because you force sukuna to be nice and actually talk to them (they're thankful for you).

streetracer!sukuna is 2 words - THE CLINGIEST! because he races at night and when he hasn't seen you for a long time (1 day), he'll come over to your place and sleep over. he doesn't care if he has to drive to the other side of the city to do so, he wants to see you now. he gets grumpy if he doesn't feel you in his arms when he wakes up. mans just wants to wake up being cuddled and who can blame him

streetracer!sukuna was insanely nervous when he met your parents. he wasn't worried when you met his because he knew that they would love you (spoiler alert they do), but his palms were sweating when you said your parents wanted to meet him. he knows that his appearance is not the most conventional with his pink hair and tattoos all over his body, especially his face. he wanted to make a good impression so he opted to went to his mom to get help for his outfit and how to impress your parents. his mom thanked you after he left because she never thought she'd see the day her son would willingly wear a shirt with a collar.

streetracer!sukuna contemplates if he should stop racing when he misjudged the distance of the car when he was trying to take over and got into a really bad crash. he recovered quickly and is fine now, but the image of you crying at his bedside wouldn't leave his head. he knows you want to be supportive but he notices how hesitant you get when he tells you he has a race. he would do anything for you, even if it that means giving up his dream so that you could have a peace of mind.

streetracer!sukuna loves you unapologetically. he's never met anyone so encouraging and so patient with him, and he would be the world's biggest idiot if he fumbles you. he doesn't care if anyone calls him a simp for prioritizing you first above all else, he loves you too much to care about being name called. he knows you deserve the world and does his best to give you so, treating and spoiling you with whatever you desire. he's never going to let you go, and he doesn't care what anyone thinks because he knows that you're his endgame.

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈

I wanna make a smau for this but like idk if I should, what do you guys think? again, not proofread hehe

[kenyummy]

✰ 02. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 02. a green fire—love is weird!

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

note: spideytorch... parksborn... I miss u... this is more introducing the ones who already like spidey but guys kon soon prolly bc i alr wrote a hella romantic drabble.. heh..

prev. ✰ masterlist ✰ next.

At least life—as you knew it—hadn't changed entirely. Sure you aren't going to Midtown anymore, but this Gotham Public didn't seem too much different. Instead of New Yorkians, it was all Jersans... yay...

Your supposed brothers and sisters went to the more prestigious school on the other side of Gotham—but all you wondered is why, really. It must've been a pain to go all the way across town to pick up one singular child.

(You realised why you had a bus pass slipped in your wallet soon enough).

You just can't believe your "dad" decided to send you to school the day after your recovery. That was really crazy. Even Alfred seemed a bit iffy with his words—but regardless, didn't attempt to fight back.

You don't blame him. Bruce seemed pretty unreasonable. Anyways—your main theory is that he didn't want people asking invasive questions... if any at all. Or that he couldn't be bothered to just leave you at home. Or he had some top secret Batman stuff to do that couldn't involve the likes of you.

Regardless—you don't care. You're still just as annoyed about either way.

The necklace resting atop your collarbones feels tighter than ever. This was scary. Real scary. You hadn't a clue what this school was like—the people, your friends (if you had any at all), your teachers, the school system or anything.

Even your Friendly Neighbourhood Spidey had their anxiety-inducing moments.

But you were met with a pleasant—very pleasant, meaning it wasn't teenager B.O—surprise when you walk into the building

"[name]!" A comfortingly familiar voice rings out in your ears and you gasp in shock.

That voice felt like laying on a bed of clouds—stretching out and feeling fuzziness after all that dark leather and depression.

A red head of hair comes barreling at you and wraps around your torso, tight. You return it with just as much glee. "MJ! You're... here! You're actually here...!!"

Mary "MJ" Jane—your best friend—is right here with you, her fiery red hair and pretty blue eyes staring like nothing changed. The only thing different is the bat symbol on her graphic shirt—and the abundance of books pressed against her side.

You squish your cheek against hers'—you feel her smile against you. "Um—of course I'm here. We go to this school, you know."

"Yeah, but [name] skips so much she's probably forgotten."

You whip your head around, smile widening. "Harry...!"

Harry Osborn—your other best friend—gives you a bright grin and holds his hand up in a wave. You wonder if your unofficial arch-nemesis Green Goblin—also his father—exists in this world. Judging from the glamour of the watch on his wrist—you guess he's still at least partially filthy rich.

Your eyes brighten and you could almost cry after the dumpster fire that was your family dinner.

MJ pouts beside you, sending your friend a glare, "Harry, you thief."

"Not my fault I'm the better looking one," he raises his arms in mock-defense—giving MJ just as hard as a look. A second later—the "tension" evaporates and they're both giggling uncontrollably. Harry elbows your arm. "What's up with your outfit? Who's that?"

Gesturing to the very inconspicuous spidey symbol on your top. You blink. You'd almost forgotten Spidey didn't exist in this world. Not yet, at least.

"Haven't you heard? The newest—and coolest—hero." You nudge him back and smirk. "I forget you nepo babies are never caught up."

"Um, hello? You're like—the ultimate nepo baby, [name]." MJ sends you a knowing brow-raise. "Bruce Wayne is literally your dad. That's the most nepo baby thing I've ever heard."

You'd almost forgotten this Bruce Wayne guy was now your (though neglectful) father. MJ and Harry probably didn't know this, so you laugh awkwardly and smile.

"... Oh, yeah. Right. Silly me."

The bell chimes (you must be the luckiest spider ever with this timing), ringing loudly in every student's ear as the freshmen start rushing to class. You've just realised you don't know where your first period class is.

...Or any of your classes, for that matter. You'd have to bring your schedule tomorrow—but for today, you'd rely on your best friends.

Holding your arm out toward Harry, you give him a cheeky smile, "Walk me to class?"

He takes your arm in his without a moment's hesitation, giving you a smile just as sneaky, "Anytime."

MJ looks between the two of you as you both walk to first period, chatting and laughing—the equations practically going off over her head as she grins.

First period couldn't have been any worse. Your English teacher was rambling on about anything and everything concerning Shakespeare's final play—confusing even the rest of the class, who weren't transported from another dimension.

It wasn't helping that Flash couldn't seem to stop throwing scrunched up paper balls at the back of your head. Giving him dirty looks didn't seem to halt him—he would only laugh harder with his friends.

It seemed he truly did hate your guts in every universe. The consistency was almost comforting.

"That guy...!" Harry's jaw is clenched hard, and he sends him the nastiest glare you've ever seen. "He still won't get over himself, it pisses me off...! So salty over you rejecting him and he's still insisting it was a joke."

Ah. So that's why. In your original universe, he just hated you because you beat his ass in third grade for making fun of your handwriting.

"Who cares—" You try to be the bigger person—but you have to clench your fists and bite your tongue when another paper ball flies to the target of the back of your head. "... I'm better than this, so I don't."

Harry pauses—but smiles after a moment. "... What changed?"

Huh? Has he figured you out already?

You furrow your brows, but you smile when you tilt your head. "What do you mean? I'm... the same as always, you know."

"No, you're acting different. But not in a bad way. Before, you'd take any chance you get to talk badly about Thompson." He chuckles. "Have you matured overnight, or something?"

This is the second time somebody's pointed this out.

Was this universes' you really that spiteful? Your diary entries were anything but kind, sure—but you could never have imagined you to be so... different.

Then again, your dearest uncle was nowhere to be seen either—and without him, perhaps you would've ended up just like this you. You might've never become the Spidey you are today.

... Though, you weren't Spidey in this universe, were you?

"I guess so. Nothing... nothing good comes out of being bitter. Sometimes it's best to learn from it and move on." You smile. Harry gives you an indescribable—yet fond—look.

The bell chimes once more after that dreary period—and you're out that door faster than Harry can catch you.

Two periods later, you're finally able to eat.

Lunch, a little less fortunately, is the same as always. You'd like to think it's because all the rich people (and consequently, all the funding) go to the school on the other side of Gotham, but it probably is just because all school lunches are equally awful.

After taking your tray of mashed greens (you're unable to decipher exactly what greens they're made of) and a dry, veggieless burger—you sit down at a lunch table with MJ. Harry's still waiting in line for an extra carton of milk.

She smiles at you, friendly, "Hey, you. How was English?"

"Hey to you, too. It was terrible." You sigh, slumping down on the table with your head in your hands. "Flash wouldn't leave me alone. I'm so sick of his shit."

"Nothing new, then," She snorts, clearly amused by your stress. "He'll leave you alone, eventually. The rejection's still fresh... even after three months, apparently. I'm just glad you're being the bigger person in all this."

"Yeah? Harry told me the opposite." You lift your head only to give her a tired look. "Actually... he seemed more pissed off about him than I was. ... Don't know why."

Harry, in your world, didn't seem to care too much about Flash outside of mild annoyance whenever he pushed you around. He seemed more amused by it than anything—the ass.

MJ lifts a brow at your confused tone, waiting for something—for you to continue, probably. Continue with what, you had no idea. After a few beats of silence, she almost chokes on her dry patty.

"Are you serious, [name]?"

You blink. "What?"

"Do you seriously not know why he gets so pissed about Flash?" She says, incredulous. You look to the side, then back at her with a shrug. She splutters, "Wh—what...? Are you kidding? You're that...."

She shakes her head, cutting herself off. "[name]... Harry's in love with you. He always has been."

MJ begins to talk about how it's always been obvious, and how everyone's known except you for years, but you barely hear it over your own thoughts.

You've gone as red as your suit, eyes wide and jaw dropped like you'd just heard your mother died (oops). Your heart nearly drops into your stomach. You don't feel sick, but your stomach is twisting and turning like a tidal wave.

Harry's... what?

You never even considered it. Not in your universe—nor this one, you presume. You've always seen him as just your really rich best friend slash possible sugar papa (satirically)—but now, you can't help but wonder.

"You okay? You're really red."

A hand places itself on your forehead. When your vision unblurs and you see those disgustingly bright, blue, beautiful—

You almost yelp, scrambling away from Harry's touch. "Harry!" You say it like you're surprised he's here—like you're surprised he's able to be around you like this.

(Though—if what MJ said was true—he must really be a great actor).

Of course you're not unfamiliar with love—that Felix Hardy really knew how to get under your red webbed suit. And you don't even want to get started on Cindell Moon—

But this was different. This was really different. Felix didn't know you. He knew Spidey, and liked Spidey. The chase. The masks. Never you. Cindell was only attracted to your pheromones. He was never in love, and to be honest—it wasn't exactly a heartbreak.

You've known Harry longer than you hadn't. You've been friends with this nepo baby for a majority of your life. He's been there beside you even when you'd seen his dad end up in a psychiatric hospital on the news—crying in your arms.

For him to be in love with you—it's hitting you all at once, and you're so overwhelmed you can hardly breathe properly.

It means everything you know is different—everything changes.

Your cheeks burn brighter than Sentry's glowing fists. He seems shocked—almost hurt—that you look so scared of him. MJ, on the other hand, is very, very amused.

"[name]'s feeling pretty under the weather right now," She coos. You could only muster a weak glare toward her. Despite that—you choose to take her lie and run with it.

"Um... yeah... I think..." You gulp. Your eyes are lingering anywhere but on him. "I think I need to go home... I'm sorry."

Harry blinks. His eyes meet with MJ, who shrugs. Then he looks to you, again—almost sad. Like a puppy, more than anything. "I could get my assistant to drive you home, if you want—"

Your stomach twists at that look. You shake your head. "No... I'm fine. I—I'll get um..." You rack your brain trying to remember your butlers name—"Alfred to drive me... Thanks anyway."

You stand up as shakily as you feel—leaving your full tray of food on the table. You glance over your shoulder as you begin to walk away, bag clutched to your side. "I'll see you tomorrow, MJ." You pause. "Harry."

MJ waves, "Feel better soon. I'll be waiting for your response," and you groan.

"Take care of yourself, [name]." Harry says, with a sad smile. You swallow hard.

This was freeing. Really freeing. You'd almost forgotten how much you love being Spidey.

You swing from building to building, flipping and barrelling as you pleased. Flying through with the Gotham wind hitting your face and you slicing through the skies—you can pretend everything is fine and you're back home.

You can pretend Harry isn't in love with you. You can pretend you hadn't replaced a neglected child who's father and other siblings couldn't give less of a damn about for some reason—and you could pretend that they aren't super vigilantes themselves.

Sure, you're glad to see your friends existed in this universe—but learning your whole friendship with Harry was everything it could never have been—you're a little less than frazzled.

But, it also begged the question. Did that mean that other heroes—your other friends—also existed here? Were they also...?

You press your lips firmly together when you land on a building and stare down at the honking cars beneath you. No. You couldn't get your hopes up. Not this time.

You had to do your own research. And if that meant sneaking around on your family's computer—so be it.

Back home, it was like the flying world you had once known, grew into golden bars of a cage.

Walking through the halls of the manor gives you more strange looks than you'd like to admit. You really have to wonder how long this—well, you, has put up with this.

Tim is walking through the hall with his hands tucked into his cape and still dressed in his Red Robin costume. When you pass by him without so much as a look, he doubles back and speaks, "[name]? Wh—what are you doing here? Isn't it..."

He checks his phone. "It's still school hours?"

You glance back. "I felt sick, so I decided to come home. Still a bit frazzled from... you know. I'm just finishing up my homework."

Tim pauses. "Bruce is going to be mad. You know how he hates it when you and Damian skip."

You want to bring up how (considering he's your age) he must go to school, too, and likely skips more often than you do (again, thinking back to those diary entries), but you don't think it'll lead to anything pleasant. So you hold your tongue. "I think I'll live. Bye."

You leave with a small shrug and Tim standing behind you, brows furrowed deep.

Minutes later—you're stuck in your room, scrolling through as many articles as you can find. It's all about this Justice League, and occasionally, Batman and his Robin. Or Nightwing. Or Red Hood. Or Superboy. Or—

Okay. There's a lot of superheroes. Almost as many as the Avengers.

Maybe this wasn't the right approach—you think, after reading the 500th article about the two Superboys. You scroll more. Then—something catches your eye. A bright flame (on your screen, technically—but still just as bright) encapsulates your retina faster than you can react.

Your eyes widen.

BREAKING: New hero team? Four super-powered heroes saving civilians in fantastic ways.

No way.

You jump up from your bed and clutch your necklace. This was practically calling for you. You run out the door—blasting past Tim—with a newfound spark of hope.

Your heart practically lights up and you can't possibly get out of this house fast enough. Tim calls out your name as you zoom past—asking what the hell you're doing. He doesn't get a reply.

Tim doesn't think he's ever seen that kind of expression on your face, ever.

You're moving so fast, he's not sure if he can catch up.

Your suit forms over your pyjamas as soon as you duck into the dark of an alley, shooting a web and slinging up into the sky. If your predictions were right...

Then he should be here right now. They should be here. The last article you found was posted less than twenty hours ago.

You look around, perched on the roof. The sky is dotted with specks of red and orange—like the flames of a phoenix. Ever-burning heart. It's not as bright (yet, all the same, sears your lids) as it was when you ducked out of school—Harry and MJ surely would be home by now... wherever that home in Gotham was.

You're too locked in to try and do detective work on anything else right now.

"Come on... come on, hotshot... you're there, I know it."

You probably look crazy muttering to yourself like this. You feel like you're going crazy. You're sure he'd call you loony before grinning and hitting you with a bad pickup line. You're sure—

Suddenly, your eyes brighten and there's flickering in your refractive lenses.

Your entire body tenses with a pause—your spidey-sense going off a thousand beats a minute.

"Johnny!" Your eyes dart towards a bright speck rapidly moving. Far away. Flying, most likely. But it's him. You know it. You don't waste a second in starting to swing.

You call out his name as you rush toward his quickly departing figure. He's fast—but you're faster. You always have been, no matter how much he'd deny it.

Your heart races as fast as it can possibly go. Your heart—it's burning, alighting with hot, molten passion as you get closer, and closer, and closer—

"Johnny!"

You crash into the human matchstick and wrap your arms around him—squeezing. The warmth pools through your nanotech suit like you're hugging the sun itself (though, you aren't too sure whether the warmth tickling the inside of your ribcage is truly coming from him).

You sure are thankful you made your suit heat resistant (with Johnny in mind).

He yelps, high-pitched—losing his flight for a moment and tumbling downwards. You web and swing the two of you upwards onto a roof with ease, holding him princess style in your arms. When you let him down to stand on his own two feet, he stares at you with wide, shocked eyes.

His flames evaporate into thin air when he realises it's you, and you're laughing so joyously you could cry.

His hand reaches up, cautiously. Like you'll shatter if he isn't careful. "[name]...? Spidey, is it...?" Making sure it really, truly is you.

You nod, slowly, and the nanotech of your mask dissipates around your face. He lets out a breath he probably didn't know he was holding and engulfs you into a hug, holding you steady in his arms as low flames begin to tickle your face.

"[name]...!! [name]!!" He holds you so tightly you could be squeezed to death—but you're not complaining. Not like you usually would. Not like this. Not now. "You're... you're here? How...? How are you...?"

You pull away—though, his arms refuse to linger away from your upper arm, "What about you, idiot?! I was scared half to death when you, Sue, Ben and Reed just... disappeared one day! I was scared you...!"

You can't bring yourself to finish, so you just hit his chest, hard. He hisses and clutches the area, claiming it's going to bruise—yet, he does not stop smiling.

He slinks an arm around your shoulder (being sure your hair doesn't catch onto his flaming limb), smiling as charmingly as you remember, "Oh come on, Spidey—we both know you were just worried about me."

Your eyes squint up with your smile. He's just like you remember. Whether this was your Johnny or not... it didn't change the fact that you'd never felt closer to home.

"Try again in the next dimension, hot stuff."

And he simply grins.

Your legs dangle off the edge of the rooftop, a burger (courtesy of Johnny letting you know where are the good joints were) wrapped up nicely in your hand. Your mask only leaves your mouth exposed now as you take a bite.

You chew with starry eyes. "This tastes like...!"

"Like Stanley's, right?" His bright eyes squint upward into a boyish grin. "It's crazy how similar these worlds are."

You sigh contentedly at the familiarity, resting your head onto his shoulder. His suit is warm on your cheek. "So, Reed's tinkering really did transport you all to this world? And that's how Doc sent me tumbling here?"

He nods. "Yep. Sucks, huh? I just didn't expect you—the other you—to get caught up in this, too. What're you gonna do now? You know... with their treatment towards you."

He's clearly talking about how you overexplained their dismissal toward the you in this world. Since you practically replaced them—you're the one with the short end of the stick, while the other you is with your loving Aunt May.

"'Dunno. I'm not gonna tell them I've been transported universes—they'd probably just send me to a mental hospital. I just have to deal with it until Reed gets us out of here." You pull your knees to your chest and take another bite of your burger.

Johnny glances downwards toward where you chew—but you don't notice it.

"'Course. You're practically part of the family. You know, honorarily—till you decide to tie the knot." He winks and you can only laugh at his stupidity.

"Uhuh. Pretty comforting." You snicker. You throw the balled-up wrapper behind you, and sigh, content. "I just hope they don't find out I'm the new spider-hero. That's probably not gonna end well."

Johnny pauses, thinking. "You could always move in with us. Reed made us all fake ID's and everything—we have a pretty sweet apartment."

You shake your head, pulling your mask down over your lips. "No. It'd be even weirder if I disappeared without warning... Assuming they even noticed at all. Trust me, I'd love to—but I can't let them find out. No telling what they'd do."

"You got a point." He sighs, disappointed—as if admitting so was hard for him. "Well, regardless... You can come over whenever you like. My room's always free for you, babe."

You tilt your head to the side. "... I bet you say that to all the people you like, don't you?"

"Nah." He shakes his head, sounding oddly serious for this moment. "Not to anyone since I've had eyes on my special spider."

... Huh?

A beat of silence passes, and he seems to almost regret his words as he laughs, humourlessly. "Hah! Well—try not to piss off the big bad bat more than you already have, babe. I'll catch you later. You know my number."

Before you can even say goodbye—he flies away, leaving a streak of light in his wake.

Johnny...

You decide not to ponder what he meant by his special spider, for the sake of your own wellbeing more than anything. You swing back—into the night of Gotham and back home, where you can fade into the dark without an eye on you.

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[always-just-red]

A multi-headcanon request please. How the boys react when they discover their s/o has been hiding a wound from them because she had it under control and didn't want to give them something else to worry about

Hi! Thanks so much for the request and all the support! Have written a little fic for each of the guys, starring... - Xavier, Deepspace Hunter extraordinaire ✨ - Linkon's worst best baking partner, Zayne 🍪 - Drama queen Rafayel 👑 - King of self-care, Sylus 💅

Putting On A Brave Face

L&DS Boys x Reader

Summary: Sometimes, a certain hunter likes to say things are fine when they definitely aren't...

Genre: A lil bit of angst, mostly fluff + comfort!

Warnings/Additional tags: female reader, established relationship, swearing, canon pet names, some injury details/blood mentioned, teeeeency bit of suggestion (I'm looking at YOU, Sylus...)

| Word count: 4k (1k each!) | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

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

Xavier ⭐

This is bad. Not ‘end of everything as we know it’ bad, but definitely ‘an obscene amount of paperwork’ bad.

You clutch one of your pistols to your chest— deep breath— and you listen carefully, your head leant back against the rock you’re using as cover. Your mind latches on to every sound: each growl, each rumble of earth that marks the movements of the Wanderers that have trapped you here.

You’ve fought worse odds, but then again, you don’t usually have to do it with a broken leg.

Or maybe just sprained? You shift a little, trying to move, and the pain that sears through you settles the debate in an instant. Your teeth sink into the back of your hand to keep you from crying out.

You hope Xavier’s okay. You sent him your co-ordinates minutes ago, and the lack of response has worry gnawing away at the deepest parts of you. You check your hunter’s watch.

Still nothing.

Another deep breath, and you readjust your position as much as you can. Balancing on your good leg, you manage to peer over the top of the rock to get a visual of your surroundings.

There’s four, no— five Wanderers. Stupid no-hunt zone; you’re never not outnumbered.

You can see your second pistol, abandoned in the middle of the clearing where you’d dropped it. There’s flickers of movement, too: further in the woods. More Wanderers. Shit.

You duck behind the rock you’re starting to think might be your new home. Then your watch flickers, broadcasting a map of the area, and there’s the co-ordinates of another hunter, closing in fast.

Something flashes in the clearing, lighting the dark of the forest like a stutter of lightning. Then again. Then again. There’s a blood-curdling roar, and it ends— abrupt— with another flash.

Everything goes silent, save for a familiar voice calling your name.

“Xavier!” you call back.

You peek over the rock to see your partner jogging towards you, dead Wanderers littered behind him. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice soft as always, but his sword is still dripping blood.

“I’m okay.” You clamber up, using the rock as a seat when the small effort almost breaks you. “You?”

Xavier draws close— his gloved hands on your face, cupping your cheeks. His thumb grazes over a shallow scrape on your brow. “Yeah,” he answers.

“Did you find that weird Wanderer?”

He shakes his head: no. Steps back to check his watch. “It’s probably moved on to a different zone by now.”

“Then we should look for it,” you say, standing up. All of your weight is on one leg.

“Ah,” Xavier ponders, rubbing his neck, “really? I thought we should maybe head back.”

“No need.” And what’s the plan here, exactly? You can’t walk. You definitely can’t fight. Maybe you can wait here while he— no. He’s never going to leave you. “I told you I’m okay.”

“But you’re not.”

“I am,” you assert. You’re determined to convince him and your own, useless body. It’s just a sprain. It is just a sprain. You take a step forwards and stumble, your bad leg crumpling beneath you.

Xavier catches you, strong and solid, and he's holding you like you’re something delicate. He sets you down on the rock again. The pain is making your vision swim.

“You’re hurt,” he reasons gently, even though the truth of it is a knife that’s twisting in your heart. He seems to sense your reluctance: “There’s no shame in admitting that. It happens. Let’s go back.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m slowing you down, Xavier!” you gush. Your heart is split open and it has to bleed somewhere. “You have no idea what it’s like… being your partner.”

He’s looking at you with so much guilt and gods, you wish that somewhere was anywhere but his hands. “What do you mean?” he asks on a shaky breath.  

“I love working with you.” Soften the blow. “I love being with you, but you don’t need me. You’re this incredible hunter. This figure of legend, of everyone’s stories. You can do so much on your own and I just don’t know how to keep up. I mean, look at me— I can’t.”

You feel sick. Empty. “You shouldn’t have to hang back for me,” you finish limply. “You’re you, Xavier. You can fight like a hundred Wanderers and still come out unscathed.”

The blue of Xavier’s eyes has grown understandably more turbulent, though it settles a little. He seems to relax. “Yeah… about that,” he mumbles hesitantly.

He turns around and your mouth drops. A savage cut drapes like a crimson sash down his back, splitting the white of his uniform. It’s not deep enough to be fatal, but it’s not good, either.

“Wha— Xavier!” you exclaim, trying to surge forwards, but your pain keeps you rooted. “You said you were okay!”

“So did you,” he frowns, bewildered. “Can we get out of—?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You let him take your arm and help you to your feet.

He leads you through the clearing and into the forest, supporting your weight as you hop along beside him. There’s a murmur about how he should carry you, but you’re quick to reassure him he’s doing enough. You’re both hurting; you both just need to survive the short walk out of the no-hunt zone, where a med team can take over.

“You don’t slow me down, you know,” Xavier says quietly, after a minute of silence. “You’re the reason I can keep going.”

You squeeze his arm affectionately, mustering a smile even though you’re nauseous with pain and the idea he’s been dwelling on your speech this whole time. “Well,” you chuckle through gritted teeth, “you’re gonna have to learn how to get by without me.”

“Huh?” He gives you a curious look.

You glance down at your leg. “Zayne’s gonna kill me...”

Zayne ❄

“I’m a doctor.”

You stop what you’re doing to fix Zayne with a questioning stare. “Okay…?”

“I’ve published dozens of research papers. Pioneered new surgical techniques. My work on Evol-based regenerative properties still has lasting implications for my field, and I’ve the accolades to show for it. The Starcatcher Award. The Linde Award, too— I was the youngest ever recipient.”

None of this is news to you, and you can’t help chuckling at this change in your usually-humble physician. You humour him: “The youngest ever recipient, huh?” There’s a crack as you split an egg on the side of the bowl in front of you. “That’s very impressive.”

“Is it?”

Zayne stands from his seat at your kitchen table: you hear the chair draw back. You feel his presence arrive behind you as you continue to stir your soon-to-be cookie dough. “Yeah,” you lilt with a smile.

“Really?” he pushes again, and his arms wrap around you as he bends to speak into your ear. “Because someone seems to think I can’t even recognise a—” he nips at it— “sprained ankle.”

His breath is warm on your neck and you let out a giggle. “Keep speaking to me like that and these cookies are never making it into the oven. Or your stomach.”

The man relents. He releases you, not returning to his seat but opting to lean against the kitchen counter instead. You glance up at him; he stares back, waiting for an actual answer.

“My ankle is fine, Zayne.”

There’s a sigh as he crosses his arms.

“It is,” you insist, even though you did sprain your ankle at work today, it does hurt like hell, and you do just want to sit down. You reach for the flour you’d measured out previously, tipping it into the larger bowl. “If it wasn’t, would I really be here— making you cookies?”

“Yes,” he says plainly.

“You’re delusional.”

“Okay.”  

Well, that was a little too easy. Don’t overthink it, and definitely don’t read into the fact that he’s standing there smugly, like he knows something you don’t. You finish stirring the flour into the mixture, then add the last of the ingredients. Just a pinch of salt, and then…

Where did you put the chocolate chips? You glance about yourself but they’re nowhere in sight. “Hey, Zayne? Have you seen the—”

“This cupboard,” he indicates with an upwards nod of his head. His eyes are relentless. “Top shelf.”

Ah. That’s okay. You’ve totally got this. You move beneath the cupboard, opening it and gazing up into the contents. You can see the pack of chocolate chips. You can get up there somehow, right?

“Would you like me to—?” Zayne starts, but you cut him off:

“Nope.” You put your hands on your hips. “Please— if I can climb the back of an alive, awake, and very angry deluge wyrmlord to put a sword through its skull, I think I can make it onto the kitchen counter in one piece. Lemme just…”

Your knee lifts. You make it about a centimetre from the floor before Zayne’s hands are on your waist, grounding you. “Stop,” he instructs, and it's not a tone that allows for any rebuttal. Satisfied by your silence, he brings the chocolate chips down to you.

“Thanks,” you say quietly as they’re placed on the counter.

“You’re welcome."

Sheepishly, you spill a generous amount of chocolate chips into the cookie mixture. Your throat hurts in the way that keeps you from saying anything more. You already feel like an idiot, and your eyes are watering, threatening to make you look like even more of one.

Zayne’s hand appears in front of you, hovering over the bowl. You laugh in understanding: giving the half-empty bag another shake so chocolate chips fall into his palm.

“You… don’t have to explain yourself,” he says as he lifts them to his mouth. His next words are muffled: “But you can tell me anything, my love. I never want you to feel as though you can’t.”

You chuckle again; you can’t help yourself. Look at him: your oh-so-serious doctor, shovelling chocolate into his mouth. He raises an eyebrow at you, his lips still on his palm.

“I know I can tell you anything,” you smile, the ache in your throat receding, however much the rest of you hurts. “I did sprain my ankle. It’s not that I wanted to hide it from you, it’s just—” you stop stirring the mixture— “it’s just that your whole life is taking care of people at the hospital. You should get a break from it. You should get to be Zayne, here… at home. Just Zayne, not Doctor Zayne.”

Zayne’s hazel eyes have taken on a hue of regret. He pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, buying himself a few seconds as he contemplates. “Are you a doctor?” he asks after a moment.

“No?”

“And yet, here you are, taking care of me.” He reaches for the abandoned packet of chocolate chips. “Tell me, does it feel like work to you?”

“Yeah,” you tease, drawing the packet away from his stretching fingers in explanation; you’re both grinning.

“Well, it never feels like work to me. Just Zayne likes taking care of you. And right now? He wants to bundle you up on the sofa and finish these cookies for you.”

You purse your lips: that’s some dubious wording. “Zayne, hell will freeze over before I leave you and this cookie dough unsupervised.”

He shushes you, pulling on the cord of your apron until the bow at your back comes loose. Before you can protest, he’s wearing the apron himself.

“Zayne, I’m not kidding. I know what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna get rid of me, and then you’ll—”

“Shh,” he coos again, whisking you carefully off your feet, because it’s time for a taste of your own medicine. “You’re delusional.”

Rafayel 🔥

“Mmhmm. Mmhmm.”

“Raf, who are you—?”

He holds out a finger to shush you. “Mmhmm.”

You cross your arms impatiently. Who is he even talking to, anyway? His lilac eyes are locked on you as he continues humming away, apparently very invested in whatever the person on the phone is saying; you’ve never seen him go this long without talking.

He narrows his eyes at you. You narrow your eyes right back.

All around you, guests of the exhibition are milling about, all dressed to the nines and minding their business, however much they want the attention of the man in front of you. A few of them linger as they pass him, like they want to say something, like they’re going to say something…

But they don’t.

It’s a wonder that Rafayel stands out in the crowd as much as he does. You’d seamlessly located him, back from your third trip to the bathroom to check on the bandages you’ve managed to conceal beneath this dress. He’s still holding your purse for you, his phone in his other hand, except—

That’s your phone. That’s your phone! “Rafayel!”

He shushes you again. “I understand,” he says solemnly, notably not to you, “thanks for letting me know.” The call is ended. He takes a deep, collected breath, then looks at you. “I knew it!”

“Knew what? Who was that?”

“Zayne.”

“You called Zayne?”

“Like I had a choice!” Rafayel retaliates. It is true; he’s spent the entire evening trying to get you to admit something was wrong, and you had no intention of giving him that pleasure. “You’re supposed to be in the hospital! What kind of idiot breaks out of the hospital?”

The lack of irony in the question almost breaks you. “Umm… you?! Like every other week?!”

He shrugs. “That’s different.”

“Rafayel, I swear, I’m gonna— ah!” you gasp in pain. You’d stepped forwards too quickly— maybe to strangle him, but that’s neither here nor there— and the wound on your side is clearly on his side. It stings like hell: punishing you, and you know the pain is self-inflicted.

Rafayel frowns in concern, maybe even guilt, and that’s why you didn’t tell him. “C’mon, we should go,” he insists gravely.

“It’s fine, Raf. It doesn’t even—”

“Stop lying! You said you wouldn’t hide stuff like this from me. You promised, remember?”

You’re losing track of all the promises you’ve made to the Lemurian, but you do remember that one. Guilt has its teeth in you, too. “I know,” you grumble, “I’m sorry, okay? I just knew—”

“What?”

“That you’d act like this! You’ve been working on this exhibition for months, Raf. Tonight is supposed to be about you. Not me— you. And I want it to stay that way. Everyone’s here to celebrate you and your work, and that’s how it should be. That’s what I want. To support you. To be here for you.”

Your voice has gone timid. You finish meekly: “Can’t you let me do this for you? Please?”

Rafayel’s eyes are wide and still the prettiest things you’ve ever seen, even in a room full of masterpieces you could never afford. They shine with uncertainty, but soften as he smiles, full of fondness and affection. “That’s sweet. But also? Really dumb.”

“Raf—”

“The only— and I mean only— reason I’m here tonight is because you are. I don’t care about what anyone thinks about me or my paintings. Just you. And you can see this?” He gestures around the gallery. “Anytime. My life’s your private exhibition, cutie. Exclusive access, 24/7, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He steps closer to you: close enough that he can see the tear that’s made it halfway down your cheek. He wipes it away with a chuckle. “Plus,” he adds, “I know you know I’m amazing. You don’t need these old sourpusses to tell you that, do you?”

You laugh tentatively. “No, I don’t.”

Your injury protests as you use the lapels on Rafayel’s blazer to pull him closer; you have to stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He’s still grinning as he draws away, a light blush on his cheeks, but the sweetness of the moment vanishes as his gaze drifts lower.

“My eyes are up here, Rafayel.”

“Yeah…” he concedes mindlessly, but then he points: “you know you’re like, bleeding, right?”

You glance downwards to where the red of your dress is turning darker. There’s just a small splotch, but it’s growing. Shit. You must have reopened the wound.

“Thomas?” you hear Rafayel call, and then he’s stuffing a silk handkerchief into your hands— helping you apply pressure. “We have to get out of here,” he explains as a figure joins you.

His agent folds his arms; this is not dissimilar to stunts you and Rafayel have pulled before. “Fake blood, guys? Really?” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You can’t leave, Rafayel. I can just see the headlines tomorrow…”

“Dashing artist selflessly flees exhibition to save devoted bodyguard,” Rafayel concurs with a nod.

Thomas groans. “That’s not what they’re going to—”

“Help me out with this, cutie?”

“Yes, sir,” you mock salute.

A moment later, Rafayel has scooped you up into his arms. Your hero; he gives you a conspiratorial wink before glancing about frantically. “Quickly!” he cries out. “Everyone out of the way, please!”

“For the love of—” Thomas starts.

“Oh, gods!” you shout in agony. “It hurts. It hurts!”

Heads turn. Cameras flash.

Tomorrow morning, half of Linkon will be talking about one of their favourite celebrities and his long-envied bodyguard. A news article will pop-up on her doctor’s phone, and he’ll see the pictures and sigh.

Sylus 🩸

“It’s not too late to back down, sweetie,” Sylus sneers.

“Aw, but you got all dressed up for the occasion.”

Your eyes rake over the outline of the man’s abs, courtesy of the tank top he’s wearing, and it does take the sting out of the fact that he’ll be trying to hit you. He holds his wrapped hands before him, ready to defend, ready to attack. He’ll probably attack, right?

“Last chance,” he growls.

“Is it, though?” This is the third ‘last chance’ you’ve been given in the five minutes you’ve been teetering on combat. You beckon him with a curl of your fingers. “Come on, Sylus. This is getting old.”

He scoffs: “How do you think I feel?”

“Like you’re about to get your ass kicked?”

“Alright, enough.” His hands drop and it feels like you’re back at the academy, about to be scolded for not taking something seriously. Sylus turns his back on you. Moves to the edge of the boxing ring so he can retrieve a stool from outside of it and sit down in a huff. He starts peeling the wraps from his knuckles, and— wait, is he mad? Like, actually mad?

“What’s wrong, Sy?”

He laughs as though you’re missing something dreadfully obvious. Maybe irony.

“Sylus?”

“You really are heartless, sweetie. You know that?”

The words steal your breath away, if only for a moment. Yours is a relationship of pulled punches, but he won’t meet your gaze and that one was real, wasn’t it? He wanted it to sting. “Why—?”

“I could have hurt you,” he snaps, his dishevelled, snowy hair falling to cover his eyes. His discarded wraps slide from his hands, pooling by his feet like blood. “You were going to let me hurt you.”

He looks at you, finally, but it’s not in the way you want. His gaze is cast low, trailing over your body and making you feel every bruise, every closed cut that wants to reopen and every ache, rooted almost to bone. You’d done your best to hide it, even going so far as to press make-up hastily over your purpled skin.

That Wanderer really did a number on you yesterday.  

“You should have told me,” Sylus says, since you’ve made it onto the same page. “Honestly, kitten. Why would you—?”

“Because Luke and Kieran told me, okay?”

Oh, they’re going to kill you. It was supposed to be a secret, and here you are, spilling like a fresh wound because you can’t stand the thought of Sylus being upset with you. You step closer, scrambling to dissect what you’ve done right in front of his eyes— holding it out to him: this is why. This is why. “They said you had a rough week. Some deals of yours had fallen through or something. And I’ve been too busy. I haven’t called, I haven’t even texted, and…”

You need him to understand, but the truth is a mess in your hands and how do you even start to explain it to him?

“You wanted to do something for me,” he finishes for you, and you don’t have to explain a thing.

“Yeah…” you confirm, bittersweet and still sad. “You do so much for me, Sylus. I just wanted to do what you wanted, for a change.”

Maybe it’s a round of boxing. Maybe it’s a dozen illicit dealings where he needs you to play enforcer— it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s happy.

“Come here,” he orders gently.

You close the rest of the rift between you, letting him reach for you and pull you closer. His knees have spread so you can slot against him, and his arms circle around you— trapping you— as he nuzzles into the warmth of your stomach.

“I’m sorry I called you heartless,” he speaks into you, his voice muffled as he gives you a chaste kiss. He then cranes his head upwards, resting his chin against you so he can profess more clearly: “I do worry about you, kitten.”

“I know—” your hands move to his head— “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“Mmm,” he hums in accordance, maybe even forgiveness, and his eyes close as your fingers card through the soft of his hair. “I lied too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confesses on a contented sigh. “I didn’t want to spend today… boxing.”

“What do you want to do today, Sy?”

His eyes flicker open and his hands find your hips. “What I really want…” he contemplates, as his thumbs slip under the hem of your shirt to rub circles on your skin, “is to take care of you.”

There are lifetimes of need in his gaze.

“Won’t you let me take care of you, sweetie?”

…

“If he finds the terms so disagreeable, then he’s more than welcome to take his business elsewhere. Although—” Sylus’s voice is cold— “he might find his other options less… amenable than when he saw them last. Less communicative, too. You can tell him I said so.”

He ends the phone call. Smiles. “Sorry about that, sweetie.”

“Are the boys okay?”

The smile widens, even though you can’t see it. “They’re fine.”

Phone set aside, Sylus carries on with the important business Kieran’s call had distracted him from. You’re half asleep, your head in his lap as he brushes your hair: rose-scented and soft from the bath he’d drawn for you, hours ago. Every bandage is fresh and clean. Every ache has been dulled with a lazy massage and more chaste kisses, for good measure.

“Perfect day,” you mumble blissfully.

“Perfect day,” Sylus agrees.