#it's the subtle change of lines that changes everything (for expressions anyways)

[gomzdrawfr]

did some ask last night in my Ig with a follower asking me some of my doodle things

[moonlight-prose]

For the touched starved scenarios maybe Logan with "hesitantly tugging the other's fabric of their shirt or sleeve, testing the waters ^^ the other notices so they pull them into a hug, smiling as they just watch them melt"?? I think it would be so cute with logan finally breaking his own barriers, reaching out to the one he adores (or*cough* is very much in love with *cough*) bc HE doesnt realize how touch starved he is and becomes slightly nervous at initiating contact at first😫

how it lingers

a/n: have i shoved this into the small world i made with the previous ask from this list? probably. but they're just so cute and i'm in love. plus just the fact that reader is also probably really timid to initiate contact with him physically. but logan finally reaching out for touch (cause he's so starved for it), and getting a response such. just let this man be happy and in love.

summary: when affection is coupled with pain logan learns it's not worth asking for. what does he need with it? but a difficult mission has him seeking the warmth of a lover in the arms of a friend.

word count: 0.7k

pairing: logan howlett x reader

warnings: fluff, blooming romances, the start of a relationship, soft logan.

It happens after a mission gone wrong. Tension hung thick in the air when the X-Men entered the front entrance, their suits charred and ripped, faces lined in pinched frowns that said far more than they wished. Logan hung back on the porch, smoking the cigar to appease the growing anxiety building in his chest. He'd never been a fan of the crowd this group accumulated—especially not when kids were involved.

But somewhere in the throng of people stood you, waiting with hope in your chest and a light in your eyes that beckoned him closer. Charles held your attention for a moment, Jean meandering over to explain in grave detail what exactly happened. You did your best to cling to every word. Even as your mind wandered to the man still stuck outside—his hands curled into fists and eyes shut to the rest of the world.

"We aren't sure what happened," Jean mumbled, a dazed expression glossing over her eyes. "If it wasn't for Logan well…Scott and I wouldn't be standing here."

The echo of his name shot through your heart—his pain bleeding into your veins the longer you stood there listening to Jean explain what happened. He saved them. He was the hero. So why was did he remain outside? Entirely separated by the people who would happily welcome him in—the ones he silently considered family.

"Is he hurt?" you asked hesitantly, entirely aware of his healing capabilities.

Nothing could hurt the Wolverine.

Not physically anyways.

Jean shrugged, fatigue settling over her face in a darkened cloud that might take days to pass. "He's…Logan."

Which meant he was taking this time to shove away emotions he didn't want to feel—things that would wreak havoc on his mind. He pushed down things he didn't want to feel; the parts of himself that left him with the bitter taste of fear on the back of his tongue. So he smoked to distract himself and left everything else up to the rest of the team.

He found it was easier to mull over his actions alone. Safer.

You tuned out the remainder of the conversation, eyes catching on the subtle shift of the crowd as Logan finally made his way inside. He clung to the wall in the hopes of going unnoticed. A familiar act of self preservation he often grew fond of at times like this. He never liked being the center of attention—why would that change solely because of one mission?

“I’ll meet you guys later.” Their responses went directly over your head, your body drawn to the man who attempted to vanish into the corner beside a plant desperate for more water.

“Bub,” he greeted, arms crossed at his chest—face turned away from your welcoming smile, from the warmth you tried offering to keep the darkness at bay.

“They said you saved them.”

He grunted, eyes flicking back to see your shoulder slump forward an inch. Barely noticeable to others in the area, but Logan clung to every slight shift of your body. Each look and half hearted smile. He tucked them into his chest in the hopes of one day wiping them away. All the stress of being a professor, of choosing to get to know a man who barely spoke more than a few words at a time.

His hand tugged at the sleeve of your cardigan softly. Barely a brush against your arm, but the grin you gave in return lit a fuse he didn’t know resided at the back of his heart. Over the years he understood what connection meant. How to form them, why he should. But staying in solitude favored him best; he couldn’t hurt anyone if he avoided them.

Until you offered him a smile bleeding enough warmth to soothe his aching heart.

A silent agreement passed between your eyes, loud enough to echo in the back of his mind as your arms curled around his neck. And with a blissful sigh filled with contentment, he melted into your touch, hands clasping around your back—arms tight and strong across your waist. Logan hugged you with his whole body, a swathing blanket of heat that poured out of him and enveloped you in love.

“Thanks bub,” he mumbled into your shoulder, head ducked as he shifted back to the corner—still tightly wound around your body.

You smiled, burrowing your face in the soft leather of his jacket. “Anytime Logan.”

[sorrespit]

Late nights ˚୨୧⋆｡˚

"You make the voices go quiet."

Rumi x Jinu

—

"This sucks," Rumi mutters to herself, scribbling out the new line for the tenth time. Her paper is a mess, dents and stains littering every inch of space.

It's gross.

The lyrics are usually Zoey's job. Actually, they're always Zoey's job. She's a natural.

But Rumi wants to try. Wants to contribute more than just her voice. All she does is show up, look all pretty, and sing. She could do more. She should do more.

Especially now.

She glances down at her arm, guilt twisting in her chest as she sees the patterns that decorate her skin. Mocking her. Taunting her. Reminding her of exactly what she is.

Rumi chews her lip, her eyes narrowing like her stare alone might will them away and fix everything.

"Careful. Might hurt yourself thinking so hard."

Rumi gasps, her eyes darting up toward her balcony door. Jinu. Of course.

She doesn't remember leaving the door open, but she can hardly care to recall whether or not she did when he's here right now. "It's rude not to knock, you' know?"

Jinu grins—that dizzying, cooked grin that she pretends to hate so much—and taps at the sliding door. "Happy?"

"It's a little too late now," Rumi scoffs, shifting in her bed as he saunters over to her like he owns the place. Like he owns her space. Maybe he does.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Rumi watches, brows quirked, as Jinu wordlessly sits at the foot of her bed.

He's quiet. Too quiet, but maybe he's just tired, so she adds, "You know you shouldn't be sneaking around like this."

She waits a beat, expecting something witty or playful, but Jinu only softens. His smile falters and is replaced with something more serious.

He reaches out. "Can I?"

Rumi blinks before nodding and slowly handing over her sheet. It's a little unnerving, just letting him see her work, but she hands it over anyway.

He skims them, a proud little smile pulling at his face. "These are good," he murmurs, the paper crinkling as he hands it back.

"Really?" Rumi can't help but preen.

Jinu shrugs. "Sure. Of what I can make of them, anyway. You erased a bunch. Why?"

"Noo. Don't change the subject. You haven't answered me." She leans back and gently nudges his leg with her foot. "You didn't sneak in just to tell me my lyrics were good."

Jinu glances up at her, his heart squeezing at the smile adorning her lips. It was both terrifying and comforting, how easily she could put him at ease. How... okay he felt when he was around her.

"Can I not just sneak in for the sake of it?"

"Nope."

Jinu sighs, but there's a subtle smile pulling at his lips. Of course Rumi won't let it go. Of course she prods. And of course, he tells her.

"You make the voices go quiet."

Her chest squeezes. And for a second, neither of them says anything. Don't move. Don't blink. Barely even breathe, like any sort of movement might break the moment.

But eventually, Jinu speaks up again. "I never liked my patterns."

Rumi nods. "You've mentioned."

His gaze drifts down to her arm, to the patterns that run along her skin. On him, they're everything he hates. A sick reminder of what he did.

But on her? On her, they're different. Special. Beautiful, even.

"Your patterns, though..." Jinu reaches out, carefully wrapping his hand around her arm and rubbing his thumb over the twisting lines. "They make me mind mine less."

"Really? That's funny."

Jinu's eyes shoot up. "Funny?"

He's almost offended, then Rumi continues, "I think the same about yours."

Jinu stares at her, lips parted. Then he laughs and shakes his head, his gaze drifting back to her arm. "Lead with that next time."

Rumi grins at the relieved little expression on his face as she sits up and shifts closer. She shouldn't. She knows she shouldn't. But she can't help it. Not after he was vulnerable with her.

"Especially the ones on your neck." Rumi reaches her hand out, fingers hovering inches away from his neck. She hesitates, her eyes flicking over to Jinu.

When he nods, and she gently reaches out and touches her fingers to the column of his throat.

"When the light catches them just right... They look really nice." She swallows hard, grudgingly easing her hand away. "Pretty."

"You think so?"

Rumi nods, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. "I do."

Jinu hums low in his throat, his skin burning where she touched. Why did she stop? Should he stop?

He drew his hand back, his fingers twitching like they already missed the warmth of her arm.

"Can I stay a while?"

The question is so quiet and hesitant, Rumi almost doesn't hear it. But she does, and she can't help the way she moves closer. Her knees brush against his thigh, her paper long forgotten in her lap.

"You can stay," she says softly. "As long as you're quiet."

Jinu nods.

"Thank you."

"Don’t make me regret it.”

Jinu scoffs. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

—

@cafekitsune for divider!!

[luckyarchivist]

Hi there!! Hope you don't mind the ask, but I saw you reblog my post about what I think of the updated demo. Thank you for adding ur thoughts to it <3 and sorry it spoiled a few things. I didn't go too in depth because I didn't want to reveal EVERYTHING that happens, but there were some things I needed to spoil for clarity's sake. To me, the whole thing just felt like we were frogs being tossed into boiling water straight away, unlike the prev version of the demo, where we entered cool water first. Anyway, I'd love to hear your thoughts about it all. I'm a big fan of all your touchstarved analyses, and I immediately thought of your "honesty and Ais" post when they took out that ONE line and replaced it with a flirty comment (trying to avoid spoilers here too haha, but you made a post on it!). Take care!! And I hope you enjoy the rest of the demo!!

Hello, allswell! I'm back, and I've played Leander's route. Don't worry about your post's spoilers; I went in knowing I'd be spoiling myself, you gave plenty of warning.

I wanted to tell you about my general thoughts on his route (since...that's the ask) and also answer your question in tags of "whether Leander's manipulation is more subtle in 1.0 or 2.0".

I also want you to know that my original, full answer to this ask was so long that I'm just going to post it separately 😭 I realized I had waaaay too much to say about Leander's post-tavern route. So, for now, I'll try and generally sum up my thoughts and answer your questions.

First: What were my thoughts on Leander's route?

I loved it. I loved it. Not necessarily all the minutiae—

Are you fucking kidding me with this line? What the hell?

—but overall I really enjoyed it.

Anyone visiting from afar can read my initial notes about Leander's route in my longpost, but going into this, I definitely had some things I was looking for. Mainly, I wanted blushy Leander back.

Of course, I also read your post, allswell (and please read their thoughts if you're interested, other readers!) where you expressed feeling like Leander was now too easy to see through and too suspicious because of the loss of his cute, friendly personality.

I would say, for both of us, that we're at a disadvantage in the sense that we already know Leander is Not Good. We know all about the marketing; we've been reading people's analyses and headcanons. And we connected all of those to The Baby, 1.0 Leander. 2.0 Leander is not the inoffensive pookie bear of the previous demo version, so it's much easier to be on guard around him because he's not as pathetic as before, even when he's not really being suspicious.

So, when going through his solo route, I told myself that I would be happy as long as Leander's new scenes felt like a satisfying accompaniment to his new archetype as the not-so-holy savior of the city. And I really, really felt like they did.

What absolutely enchanted me was the ways in which Leander and MC's interactions already embody "the cult of one": a level of emotional manipulation and abuse like you'd see between a cult leader and their followers, on the smallest possible scale. I'll go into these cult elements more in my to-be-written analysis(? Series of observations?), but I happen to have been watching a lot of cult content on YouTube recently and could not tell you how excited I was to recognize the signs so lovingly recreated in Leander's solo route.

This moves me quite neatly into your other question.

And that is: Do I think Leander's manipulation was more subtle in 1.0 or 2.0?

Before I answer this, I want to talk about my differing views of Leander 1.0 vs. 2.0, assuming (as the devs have said) that Leander hasn't changed, just that more of his later character has been revealed earlier.

In 1.0, Leander is playing a part. He is acting as someone who is very silly and very promiscuous and endlessly kind, despite his abilities as a mage and a leader, because that is what draws people in. That facade is his main weapon; it makes people lower their guards and trust him, even when anyone with some sense would be wary of a super-powerful magic user with an entire militia they can order around. It's an appeal to emotion. And I fell for it!

But that's not him, or rather, that's not the truest version of him. As a player, you get the shock of seeing his "true face" later in his route, and perhaps that is where his "monstrousness" comes from.

In 2.0, Leander is himself. And we see in his route that the cute, blushing Leander, who speaks highly of friends and foes alike, is not absent — he's still there, because that is him, too. It's just not played up to such a comical degree. That is because 2.0 Leander uses his authority to get people to trust him, rather than appealing to their emotions with cuteness.

Not only that, but this Leander is free to rely on his clout as a mage and a local political figure publicly because he has other weapons of manipulation that fit his image: he's an skilled wordsmith, and in that, an emotional puppeteer; he's the head of a tightly knit group that is clearly protective of him. If one thing doesn't work, he moves to the next. And it's much less jarring for a person (the MC) to learn that their righteous and gifted hero has a soft, obedient side than to learn that their subby little boyfriend is running his gang like a military cult. So, if needed, 2.0 Leander could bring that 1.0 facade out later in the story without causing MC mental dissonance; it's just another tool.

In this scenario, the player already knows Leander's nature, even if MC does not; their horror creeps in as they watch their MC struggle to leave the web Leander is weaving for them. It's possible that, if you choose certain choices while playing his route, you may not even realize the depth of his manipulation until it's too late.

So, was Leander's manipulation more subtle in 1.0 or 2.0? I think that depends on what the player is more susceptible to. I'm the type of person who's a sucker for a boyfailure, so 1.0 Leander would sneak up on me. But for those who need a knight in shining armor, one who they know will protect them no matter what, 2.0 Leander is the perfect predator.

[sinsxo]

02. some people get roses.

navigation. profile. masterlist. 01.

synopsis. waiting to confront him, you take a trip down memory lane — to find when the seeds were planted before the roses first bloomed — searching for where it all began.

cw. heavy emotional themes, emotional distress, family neglect & favouritism between siblings, implied depression & isolation, self-worth & validation struggles. this chapter is focused on the reader’s struggles.

note. thank you everyone for waiting! here’s part 2 of the thorns & roses series, it's a little long oops. check out part 1 if you haven’t already! <3

wc. 2.4k words, not proofread.

“is someone banging at my door? ‘cause i just wanna be alone.” —heavy, the marias.

your shoulders felt heavy as you walked out of the stadium, like you were carrying the weight of everything you’d been trying to leave behind.

why did he do that? why does he still have the necklace?

questions spiralled through your mind, and everything remained unanswered. to top it all off, you didn’t know what to make of it.

“hey,” your best friend said beside you, offering you a guilty smile. “sorry for forcing you to come here. i didn’t think it’d shake you up this much, i just wanted to—”

“it’s okay,” you said, giving her a small, reassuring smile. but of course, there was more to it. “i think… it was about time anyway.”

“to make up for it, let’s go for a late-night meal? my treat,” she said, trying to lift the mood.

you paused for a second before answering. “i think… i’ll stay here a little longer. you go on ahead.”

she blinked, surprised, then nodded with a soft smile. “got it. call me if you need anything. i’ll head off first.”

you nodded and gave her a small wave as she walked away, then turned around and sat on a nearby bench outside. your plan now was simple: if the opportunity presented itself tonight, you’d confront rin.

how long you’d have to wait — you didn’t know. which entrance he’d come out from — you didn’t know either.

but what you did know was that something was still watering the roses. the thorns. and you saw it, clear as day, earlier on the field.

when was the seed even planted, anyway?

you stared at your feet as your thoughts drifted backwards, pulled into memory. back to many, many years ago. when you both were still young, still immature, and still stupid — too stupid.

back to the end of your first year of high school, during the end-of-year award ceremony.

you sat near the back of the gym with the rest of your class, half-listening as names were called and students lined up on stage to receive their little plaques and certificates. the applause was polite and hollow. you tapped your nails against your thigh just to keep yourself from fidgeting.

it was all so tedious.

“this year’s recipient of the extracurricular distinction award — itoshi rin.”

of course.

you felt the subtle shift in the air immediately. a few girls whispered, some of them clapping faster than necessary. the teachers even looked vaguely pleased for once. he hadn’t even moved yet, and the room was already tilting in his favour.

you glanced up.

he walked with that same detached calm, composed gait like this was routine with that cool, distant look on his face as if the world couldn’t touch him — and maybe it couldn’t.

he bowed to the principal and accepted his award without a word, as expected. no speech. no change in expression. and still, people watched him like he was something rare. precious.

you looked away.

not out of annoyance. maybe jealousy. just — tired of the way the world worked, maybe.

you were prickly, too. maybe worse — you acknowledged it. but no one called him difficult. no one whispered when he passed by in the halls. the same attitude that earned you glares seemed to earn him grace.

it was unfair. but what could you do? that was just how the world worked.

“and finally, the award for overall distinction... [full name].”

a few heads turned. some of the clapping faltered, just for a moment. that pause again — like people didn’t know whether to cheer or hold their breath.

you stood, adjusting nothing, face unreadable. you walked to the stage with steps that were measured and steady. the lights were warm and tingling on your skin. you didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, especially not his.

you accepted the award with both hands and bowed.

“[last name] will now give a speech as this year’s representative.”

they handed you a folded sheet of paper. pre-written. generic.

you didn’t bother reading it. you just headed straight for the lectern.

“i’ll keep it short,” you said into the microphone. your voice didn’t waver. “thank you for the recognition. congratulations to the others. good luck next year.”

and that was it. scattered applause. polite. a few furrowed brows. the usual.

you stepped down, and as you passed him, his eyes met yours. it was a glance that lasted half a second, maybe less. but he didn’t blink, and neither did you. just like that, the air felt a little heavier.

you didn’t look back.

spring break came and went like everything else. no grand trips, no lazy mornings. just you, your desk, and the smell of old textbooks. the break hadn’t even reached its halfway point, and you were already mapping out the next year.

your textbooks for the new term sat neatly stacked on your desk, some still wrapped in plastic. most students wouldn’t bother opening them until classes started — maybe not even then — but you’d already gone through the table of contents of each one. the outlines for your next school year that your teachers handed out before break were already annotated, highlighted, and cross-referenced. not because you had to. just because you refused to fall behind.

a printed study schedule hung above your desk, marked with colour-coded goals and sticky notes. you’d even bought extra prep books from the bookstore downtown — the kind that made your classmates groan just looking at the covers.

everyone else was still calling it a break.

but for you, it was just a normal day, perfect for studying.

you weren't the type to let a school break go to waste. while others posted photos at karaoke joints and cafes, you were annotating margins and redoing problems you already got right. it was easier to deal with equations than people anyway.

still, your mind drifted sometimes — briefly, involuntarily.

itoshi rin.

his name had echoed too loudly that day during the award ceremony, followed by cheers that shook the auditorium. he got the extracurricular excellence award — the only student with national recognition to his name. and the crowd adored him. teachers, classmates, and even students from other classes. it was hard not to notice him, especially when everyone else acted like he was a walking miracle.

you didn’t get it. or maybe you did. you were both blunt, cold, and driven. yet those traits made him brilliant and made you... dislikable? maybe it was the way he looked. maybe it was the sport. maybe it was just easier to like him.

not that any of it mattered.

you didn't envy him, not in the way people might expect. you had your own spotlight, your own stage. top marks in every class. a reputation built not from smiles, but from results. people didn’t like you, but they didn’t ignore you either. and that was enough.

the award you received — for overall academic and extracurricular excellence — still sat on your shelf, untouched. your name engraved beneath the school crest. no one cheered for you the way they did for him, but that was fine. applause never mattered to you anyway.

you didn’t think about rin much. as long as you were satisfied with yourself, that’s all that matters.

“dinner’s ready,” your mother called from downstairs — sharp and businesslike.

you didn’t bother to answer. you already knew it was an order, not an invitation. you kept your books slowly and made your way to the dining room. the air was thick with the scent of unusual spices — rich, unfamiliar, and unlike your usual dinners.

your father was there, flipping through a newspaper, barely looking up. your mother was setting plates silently, eyes flicking to the doorway.

and then there he was — your older brother. standing by the window, hands stuffed into the pockets of his expensive jacket, fresh from a university abroad. you hadn’t even known that he was coming back.

their faces lit up when they looked at him, the kind of warmth they never gave you.

“we thought it’d be a surprise,” your mother said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

you swallowed the bitterness rising in your throat and sat down without a word.

he was just like you — sharp-tongued, prickly, impossible to please. but somehow, they forgave his rough edges because of his accomplishments, because he brought prestige. or maybe it was simply because he was their son, their firstborn. he might as well have been an only child.

you glanced at the dishes, a quiet reminder that you weren’t the favourite.

the silence between you and your brother was heavy — not the comfortable kind, but the kind that made you restless.

they talked about his time abroad, the internships, the opportunities. and your parents beamed. you stayed quiet, pretending you weren’t there.

but the truth was, you felt more invisible than ever.

“you…” you said, your voice tight with something like anger and hurt, “you guys didn’t do this when i got my distinction award.”

the room fell silent.

your mother’s smile faltered, your father’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. and your brother looked right at you, a flicker of discomfort in his eyes.

“your brother came back home after a long time,” your mother said softly, as if that explained everything.

but you knew it didn’t.

it was never about the awards, it was about who they cared about.

and it wasn’t you.

you clenched your fists under the table, trying to keep your voice steady.

he frowned, a little annoyed. “why’re you killing the mood now? i just got back.”

the words stung more than you expected.

you looked away, the walls closing in. “you wouldn’t understand.”

you left the table early, retreating to your room. you needed air, needed space — needed to remind yourself that you weren’t invisible, even if they kept acting like you were. the distant sounds of laughter from downstairs only made the silence in your chest louder.

with a quiet sigh, you changed into your outside clothes, heading back downstairs without meeting anyone’s eyes.

“where are you going?” your father asked, his tone casual, like everything was fine.

“just taking a walk,” you said, slipping on your shoes. “i’ll be back before it gets too late. not that it matters.” the last part slipped out just as you stepped out and gently closed the door behind you.

the evening air was cool against your skin, but it didn’t lift the weight that was pressing down on you. each step carried something unspoken — something heavy. you didn’t have a destination. just wanted to get away, to be anywhere but ‘home’.

eventually, you ended up at the nearest convenience store, the kind with humming fluorescent lights and shelves stacked with comfort.

you browsed slowly, letting the soft hum of the freezers and quiet music fill the silence in your head. after everything, you figured you deserved something small. a small reward for not breaking. for trying so hard, even when it felt like no one noticed.

your fingers hovered over the snack aisle before grabbing your usual yoghurt gummies — the one you always got when you felt like this — like shit. it wasn’t much, but it was enough.

you paid, offered a polite bow to the cashier, and stepped back outside. the sky was already dark, painted in deep blues and quiet purples, the kind of evening that made the world feel dark and distant. almost depressing.

you sat down at the tables provided at the side of the store, unwrapping your snack slowly. the first bite made your eyes sting a little. not because of the taste, but because it was the first nice thing you’d given yourself all day.

you chewed slowly, gaze unfocused, watching the occasional car pass by with its headlights cutting through the dark. everything felt a little quiet now — the weight on your chest, the ache in your throat, the sting behind your eyes.

you told yourself it was just a bad day, that you’d had worse, that you'd always managed to get through it.

but the truth was, you were tired of doing everything right and still feeling like an afterthought. tired of speaking and never being heard. tired of having to earn even the smallest ounce of warmth.

you leaned your head back against the wall, snack half-eaten in your lap, and let the tears fall quietly. no one was around. no one was watching.

you didn’t cry loudly. it wasn’t a sob. it was just a quiet, tired kind of sadness — the kind that built up over weeks and months and maybe even years.

so you sat there, in the dim light of a convenience store, the night pressing in gently around you.

and then… footsteps.

you wiped your face quickly, turning your head away instinctively.

“...you okay?”

you froze. you recognised that voice.

you turned your head slowly — and there he was, standing a few feet away with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his usual blank expression softened by the low light.

itoshi rin. of all people.

he looked at you — not in passing, not like you were a stranger, not like someone to ignore — but like someone who existed.

you hated that it almost made you cry again.

you straightened. “do i look not okay?”

his expression didn’t change. “a little.”

you clicked your tongue and looked away. “then don’t look. it’s not good to be nosy, don’t you know that?”

he didn’t move.

you hated how that made you more conscious of yourself. hated that he’d seen you like this — a mess, with puffy eyes and a crumpled bag of yoghurt gummies in hand. pathetic.

“are you just going to stand there?”

“wasn’t planning to.”

you glanced at him. he wasn’t smirking or judging — just watching you quietly, hands in his jacket pockets like always.

“you always come here this late?” he asked.

“only when i need a reward,” you answered, voice quieter. “for surviving the day. not that it’s any of your business.”

he nodded, like he understood. maybe he did.

you didn’t know what else to say. or if you were supposed to say anything at all.

“i’ll head back,” you said, brushing past him. “you didn’t see anything, alright?”

“sure.”

you paused, just for a second.

“…thanks.”

he didn’t respond, but he was still standing there when you glanced back, watching you go. you quickly snapped your eyes forward and picked up your pace. seeing him around would be awkward now, especially at school. all you could do was hope he'd keep his mouth shut.

taglist. @yuukiririix @rohfulike @bestboileeknow @mihyas-dieehefrau @lilahlil @bruisedchickensoup @vvs-mew @kuronarnze @mixolya @lovingmayday @saekisserfr @appl3-orchard @fiestvr @n0tbelle @scoosh4you @tartardisalmone @luvynii

back to. masterlist. proceed to. part 3.

© all written works are created and owned by @sinsxo. do not plagiarise, modify, repost or translate any of my content on other platforms under any circumstances.

all images, aside from the dividers, do not belong to me. credit belongs to their original creators on pinterest & xhs.

[valley-of-headcanons]

Can you write a fic or hcs about Haley with a female farmer who is autistic?? Thank you! 💗💐⚖️

haley with an autistic! farmer || headcanons

haley finds your differences alluring, not off-putting.

warnings: nothing really? talking of fidgeting might trigger tics but nothing that i can see. read with caution if needed

requested by: anon! hiyaa, thank you so much for the request! sorry if everything is not 100% totally accurate, i know a good bit about the topic but there's always room for human error! feel free to kindly educate me if i need it :) anyway! hope you enjoy! :)

• When Haley found out that you were autistic, she didn't mind. She may have seen the signs or she may not have, depending on how much you masked it. She wasn't really familiar with it, or anything neurodivergent really. She knew her sister was diagnosed with something somewhere down the line, but she didn't think too much of it. But, she’d learn. For you, she'd do a lot of things that weren't usually her style.

• During your relationship, you slowly begin to unmask around her. Finding yourself more comfortable with her, you open this side of yourself up to her. She can't help but find some beauty in it. Seeing you, the true you, find solace in her? It puts a smile on her face. Whether your autism is high or low functioning, she finds your soul just as beautiful. So much different from her’s.

• If you have a tendency to fidget or tic, Haley wouldn't really know how to react at first. She'd ask what's going on, probably with an odd tone, but once after it's explained to her she understands. If you two are out in public and you need to fidget with something, she'd offer you her hand. Her fingers are always adorned with many rings, so it's no surprise that there's something to fidget with. If you two are alone, she’d also let you fidget with her hair while she lays in your lap.

• If your autism causes your emotions to be on the extremely subtle side, Haley would try her best to communicate with you. She's not perfect at the whole communication thing and would get a bit frustrated, but she’s trying. She's never tried this hard with anyone before. However, if your autism causes your emotions to be extremely heightened, things would be a little bit different. Haley could read your expressions like a book, and knew exactly what you meant without even having to ask. Of course, this leads to a little bit of miscommunication, but things happen. She’s trying her hardest.

• Haley would listen to you ramble on about your hyperfixations while doing menial tasks. Painting her nails? She’s listening to you ramble on about a certain aspect of your interest. Doing her makeup? Asking you questions about your interest, happy to hear you talk so much about it. Picking out an outfit for the day? Listening to you talk in-between outfit options. She always has an ear open for you, but she's not the best at reciprocating conversation. Haley has learned that she likes being more of a listener, not a talker. She loves hearing your voice instead of her own, these days.

• Despite your differences, you two were set on making this work. Haley cares more about you than anyone she’s ever met, and she wouldn't dare mess things up. The things that are different about you complete her, and she wouldn't change a single aspect about you. You’re her sun, moon, and all of the stars in the sky.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Hi! Can I request a mommy Wanda x fem reader where they’re at an amusement park and after awhile R gets overstimulated because the sun is sunning and there’s no clouds so she’s really hot and she’s also hungry and thirsty and her legs hurt but she doesn’t tell Wanda any of this because she gets really quiet/almost non-verbal when she’s overstimulated but Wanda is able to figure it out anyway? Much comfort and love 🤭💕

Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x autistic!fem!reader

Summary: It's time for a trip to the amusement park, but everything is overstimulating you.

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: Age gap relationship (W=34 R=23), Dom/sub dynamics(vague), comfort fic

Authors notes: I'm actually not a huge amusement park person (I don't like rides) so I hope this is good!

The sun blazed overhead as the bustling sounds of the amusement park surrounded you. The Avengers had planned this day off, a rare chance to relax and enjoy some fun together. It had started off great, with everyone in high spirits. Wanda had been especially excited, dragging you from ride to ride with a contagious enthusiasm.

But now, hours into the day, you felt the oppressive heat bearing down on you. Sweat trickled down your back, your mouth dry and throat parched. Your legs ached from the constant walking, and the cacophony of sounds—the shrieks of joy, the clanking of rides, the chatter of the crowd—felt like they were closing in on you.

You tried to keep a brave face, not wanting to ruin anyone's day. The others, including Wanda, seemed to be having such a great time. You didn't want to be the one to bring that to a halt. So, you stayed quiet, your usual chatter reduced to nearly nothing. You could feel yourself retreating into your shell, the overstimulation pushing you to the edge of being non-verbal.

Wanda, however, was incredibly perceptive. She had been keeping an eye on you throughout the day, and it didn’t take long for her to notice the subtle changes in your behavior. The way you trailed behind a bit more, the lack of response to her excited chatter, the small frown lines that had appeared on your forehead.

"Hey," she said gently, pulling you aside as the group decided on their next ride. She cupped your face with her hands, her touch cool against your flushed skin. "Are you okay?"

You forced a smile and nodded, but you could see the concern in her eyes. She wasn't buying it.

"Sweetheart," she said softly, "you don't have to hide how you're feeling. I can see you're struggling."

Your resolve crumbled a bit at her words, your eyes filling with tears. "I didn't want to ruin everyone's day," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda's expression softened even more, and she pulled you into a hug. "You could never ruin our day. If you're not okay, then we're not okay. Let's take care of you."

She led you to a shaded area, where you could sit down and take a break. The rest of the Avengers noticed and quickly joined, their concern evident.

"Hey, what's going on?" Natasha asked, crouching down beside you.

"Wanda thinks I need a break," you said quietly.

"Smart move," Tony agreed, handing you a cold bottle of water. "It's brutally hot out here."

As you sipped the water, feeling it cool your parched throat, Wanda sat next to you, her arm around your shoulders. "We're going to find some food and take it easy for a bit, okay?" she said.

You nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. The team's understanding and support made the heavy weight of overstimulation a little easier to bear. Wanda kissed your forehead, her touch grounding you in a way that nothing else could.

"Thank you," you murmured, leaning into her.

"Always," Wanda replied. "Your well-being is what's most important. We're here for you, no matter what."

With that, the Avengers rallied to make sure you were comfortable, taking the rest of the day at a slower pace, making sure you were hydrated, fed, and rested. The love and care they showed you made you realize that you were never a burden, and that taking care of yourself was just as important as having fun.

The day continued at a much more relaxed pace. Wanda stayed by your side, her arm wrapped around your waist as you both wandered through the amusement park. You had insisted that the rest of the team continue enjoying their day, reassuring them that you were in good hands with Wanda. They reluctantly agreed, but not without checking in on you periodically.

Wanda, being your girlfriend, never minded taking care of you. To her, you were her precious little girl, and she took great joy in making sure you were happy and comfortable. She suggested you both try the carnival games, and you eagerly agreed. You played game after game, laughing and cheering each other on.

You managed to win a few adorable squishmallows, each representing your favorite Avengers. You secured one of Wanda, Natasha, Cap, and Peter. Each time you won, Wanda's eyes would light up with pride, and she'd kiss your cheek, making your heart flutter with warmth.

As the sun began to set, the amusement park transformed. The rides and stalls were lit up with twinkling lights, casting a magical glow over everything. You and Wanda decided to take a leisurely stroll, enjoying the cool evening air. The day's heat was finally dissipating, and the breeze felt refreshing against your skin.

You started to feel the exhaustion creeping in, your steps becoming slower and more unsteady. Wanda noticed immediately and didn't hesitate to scoop you up into her arms. You wrapped your arms around her neck, your head resting on her shoulder.

"Looks like someone is ready to call it a night," she teased gently, her voice soothing.

"Mhm," you mumbled, already feeling your eyelids drooping.

Wanda carried you toward the parking lot, her gentle rocking motion lulling you further into a sleepy haze. The day had taken all your energy, but it was worth it. Spending time with Wanda, winning those silly squishmallows, and seeing the amusement park lit up at night—it had all been worth it.

As she walked, Wanda spoke softly to you, her voice a comforting melody. "You did great today, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you for pushing through. I hope you had fun."

"I did," you whispered, nuzzling closer to her. "Thank you for taking care of me."

"Always," she replied, kissing your forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too," you managed to say before drifting off completely.

By the time you reached the car, you were fast asleep in Wanda's arms. She gently placed you in the passenger seat, buckling you in securely. The rest of the team soon joined, and everyone exchanged quiet, tired smiles as they settled in for the drive home.

As Wanda drove, she kept one hand on the wheel and the other holding yours, your fingers intertwined. The squishmallows you had won sat in the backseat, a reminder of the fun and love that had filled the day. You might have used all your spoons, but with Wanda by your side, it had been more than worth it.

[demaparbat-hp]

⭐

For better or worse, I'm rather obsessive over wording. I love to include little details and clues that tend to go over everyone's heads. Most of them are only there for my own devilish enjoyment!

Now, I'd like to talk about three specific moments from my Zuko-centric fic For the Spirits (read here!). Two of them are from chapter V, while the last one is a bit more recent, from chapter VIII.

Both lines include ridiculously subtle and obscure subtext that I'm not sure I'll get the chance to explore fully in the fic. So I'm using this excuse to talk about them!

Spoilers ahead!

Chapter V: There Was Sun

Read here.

He was left in silence, the thousands of eyes that lived in his bedroom standing watch over him. He laid down right there, ear pressed to the floor, his back to the door, and clutched his mother's anklet to his chest until the morning came.

Zuko was awoken by the ghost of a caress on his left cheek and the echo of a voice that told stories of dragons and spirits and love.

No matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are.

Ursa dies and becomes a ghost in this scene—it's not really ambiguous, is it? I always knew Ursa was going to die to protect Zuko in this AU. That scene of Zuko staying behind to spy on Azulon’s edict—instead of running away as he did in canon—was actually what got this whole AU started!

It's a matter of seemingly insignificant divergences that just pile up until the consequences are so massive they impact the rest of the story.

In For the Spirits, Zuko directly hears Azulon’s order to kill him, so he stays awake all night in fear. When Ursa comes to say goodbye, she's confronted with a fully awake child she tries to calm down. It slows her down. It gets her caught. It gets her killed. And Zuko listens as it happens.

The scene I quoted is Ursa's final goodbye, after her death... But there's something else. One tiny, absolutely inconsequential detail that doesn't impact the story itself but I can't help but obsess over anyway.

Did you notice?

Zuko was awoken by the ghost of a caress on his left cheek...

(Some spirits don't know.)

(Others know too much.)

.

Agni was a beautiful being forever in repentance of some forgotten sin. Forever submitted to the Fire.

Zuko insisted on being alone the first time his bandages were removed.

The mirror was old and cracked, but did its job well, much like everything else on the Wani. Zuko sighed, hands bracing the sink before him in something akin to despair. He breathed in once, twice, before opening his eyes and facing the monster in the mirror.

The first time Zuko saw his scar, he laughed.

It was fitting, he thought, to bear the mark of the flames burning the flesh of a God.

It's Lore Time!

It shouldn't come as a surprise that I'm a sucker for narrative foils. Having a character be Touched (blessed, cursed, all the same) by a godlike spirit is just about the best excuse possible to chuck in as many parallels as one can think of.

That being said, I'm curious. Did you catch it at first read?

The fact that, while Zuko bears a scar from fire, Agni's face is forever burning.

(The first pic isn't supposed to be Agni, but rather Nightmare Zuko from my Perfect Prince comic. You get the idea, though.)

There's something about the imagery of it all, as well as the metaphor expressed masterfully in Zuko himself. Fire is all about the dichotomy. It's about savagery and control. Energy and burn. Gentleness and all-consuming rage. Fire is life. Fire is destruction.

A beautiful face forever burning, forever scarred.

Two halves of the same whole. All things the same.

.

Chapter VIII: Make You Stay

Read here.

In chapter II, Ming confessed that she had been one of the Royal Guards assigned to the Agni Kai arena when Zuko was burned. She helped General Iroh get him out of that place and heal him, given that medical attention was prohibited by the Fire Lord. Ming has stayed by Zuko's side ever since, but the Agni Kai still haunts her.

“I was nineteen!” she yelled, slapping the table. “I was nineteen and all I could smell was burnt flesh! That fucking scent still comes back every time I see him. It broke me and it wasn't even me! I wasn't the one who—I wasn't—I was nineteen and I wasn't ready!

When Yoi tells her in chapter VIII that Zuko is planning to go on a suicide mission, she panics and the Agni Kai comes rushing back to her mind.

Something quite interesting happens, though. Not only here, but also later on, during her conversation with Zuko.

See if you can catch it.

Ming felt the cold like never before. It was pumping in her ears, freezing the sweat on her nape, masking the thunder of her chest, tearing at her flesh—at her soul.

Rise and fight, Prince Zuko.

She snapped back into focus and sprinted away from an oblivious Yoi.

(...)

She refused to cry in front of Zuko. Not for this. Not after…after…

You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher.

Then so be it.

Zuko stared through her. She looked away.

Then so be it.

Haven't you noticed something a little...odd, about this AU? I mean, besides the spirit shenanigans, obviously. I'm talking about something that's missing. Something pivotal about Zuko's journey that just isn't there. The only word not yet written.

Avatar.

A larger threat, Zuko couldn't be allowed any chance to return to the Fire Nation. Not even a disgraceful mockery of an impossible mission. There's no chasing after the Avatar here. There's no looking for the last airbender (Zuko's previous visits to the Air Temples had a different motivation).

Zuko's banishment was a one-way ticket. And Ming just told us the reason why.

You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher.

(With open eyes and the misdirection of Agni's burning touch over his shoulder, Zuko had no reason to cower. So he stood up. He faced his destiny with honor and resignation. This was a test, wasn't it? Agni's challenge for his child...)

Then so be it.

(That line wasn't Ozai's to deliver.)

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

Hiding away

characters: Oh young il/Hwang in ho X fem!reader

Summary:[ ] Young il and Y/N driving in heavy rain. It’s getting hard to see anything, so they pull over and find a covered picnic area to wait out the storm.

Warnings: None🦑🦑

The windshield wipers fought against the rain, but it was a losing battle. Sheets of water pounded the glass, blurring the world outside into a mess of dark shapes and streaking headlights. Young-Il gripped the steering wheel tightly, his jaw clenched as he squinted at the road ahead.

“This is getting bad,” you murmured, glancing at him. Even through the dim light, you could see the tension in his face. Young-Il nodded, exhaling sharply.

“Yeah… I can barely see the lines.” He slowed the car and carefully steered it toward the side of the road. A small picnic area appeared through the haze—nothing fancy, just a wooden shelter with a few tables. It would have to do.

As soon as he parked, the sound of the rain became deafening, hammering the roof of the car. You exchanged a look. “Should we wait it out in here?” Young-Il hesitated, then shook his head. “Nah, let’s stretch our legs.” You both made a run for it, laughing as you darted through the rain.

The second you reached the shelter, Young-Il ruffled his wet hair, shaking off the water like a dog. “Great. Now I look even worse.” You grinned, brushing raindrops off your arms. “I think the drowned-rat look suits you.”

Young-Il rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. He leaned against the wooden table, watching the rain pour down around you. “Guess we’re stuck here for a while.” You sat across from him, pulling your jacket tighter. “Could be worse.” “For sure,” he agreed. “At least I’m not stuck with someone boring.” You nudged his knee with yours. “I could say the same.” Silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

The storm raged on, wind howling through the trees, but here, under the shelter, it felt like you were in your own little world. After a moment, Young-Il exhaled, resting his chin on his hand. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but I used to love the rain when I was a kid.”

You tilted your head. “Used to?” “Yeah.” He gave a small, sheepish laugh. “I’d run outside every time it rained, pretending I was in some dramatic movie scene or something. But then, one time, I got caught in a storm like this, and my parents freaked out. They made me swear I wouldn’t do it again.”

You chuckled. “I can totally picture you as a little kid doing that.” Young-Il smirked. “Yeah? What about you? Any weird childhood habits?” You thought for a moment.

“I used to talk to myself a lot. Full conversations, arguments, everything. My parents thought I had an imaginary friend, but I was just… thinking out loud.”

Young-Il’s lips curled into an amused smile. “That explains so much.” “Hey!” You swatted his arm, but he just laughed. More time passed, and the conversation drifted from childhood memories to dreams, embarrassing stories, and things neither of you had ever really shared before.

The storm raged on, but you barely noticed it anymore. Eventually, the rain began to lighten, the harsh drumming turning into a soft patter. Young-Il checked the sky and stretched. “Looks like we can head out soon.” You stood up beside him, reluctant to leave the little bubble of quiet you had shared.

“This was nice.” “Yeah.” Young-Il glanced at you, something warm in his expression. “We should get caught in storms more often.” You laughed. “Next time, maybe somewhere with hot chocolate.” He grinned, grabbing his car keys. “Deal.” As you ran back to the car, the rain had already started to slow, but something between you and Young-Il had changed—subtle, unspoken, but real. And somehow, you knew this wouldn’t be the last time you’d find yourselves waiting out a storm together.

🦑🦑🦑

[jokeb0i-art]

Oml I’ve been following your blog for YEARS (new blog now, but I’ve been here since 2020 I believe at this point haha), and just got to say I adore your artwork and everything you do - very inspiring art- wise haha. You’re basically what got me into DC lol.

Anyway, do you have any speed paints you could post on tumblr or even just any tips you have on how to draw people/faces? I always try to improve my art and am getting pretty, good, but struggle SO hard with the first sketch when it comes to stylized people and expressions. Any help/tips/pics you can give would be so cool, as I admire your artwork and style so much

nice! can't believe it's been five years since then lol

and here's an old one from my Youtube, though it uses a symmetry tool which I wouldn't use these days

Honestly, faces are one of the hardest things to draw because subtle changes can make a really big difference, it will take you VERY long time to get a good grasp of them, almost as long as it takes to get good at backgrounds, or rendering or anatomy, but it's mostly a balance between rotating a 3D shape (the head), proportions and studying ppl's expressions

my most important notes i'd say are:

1. expressions are never almost never symmetrical, there's usually an eyebrow raised a little more, a slightly lopsided smile, ect. ect. 2. noses are difficult but thankfully not too necessary and will get easier to draw the better you get at art 3. take 3D space into consideration, the tilt of someones head can drastically change how an expression is read 4. dimples, nose wrinkles, crows feet and forehead lines make all the difference when it comes to subtle expressions, don't be afraid to use them even if it seems to age your characters 5. PRACTICE, look at people's faces, examine their emotions, feel how your own face stretches and squishes when it moves, a good example is how Disney and Warner Brothers animators used mirrors to draw expressions, even for characters that looked nothing like themselves:

[sephirthoughts]

Vincent's New Kid Just Dropped CH 17:

Back at the Valentine Household Where Things are a Little Too Quiet

prev. chap here

RATING: teen and up for some swears, PG-rated physical affection, and references to mature topics, such as household management

WARNINGS: a baby's wet diaper is changed onscreen. proceed with appropriate caution/approved safety equipment

Summary:

not the longest chapter but there was not a less awkward place to cut it and i didn't want it to be like 3 usual-chapters long

LOOK AT HIM. LOOK HOW SAD AND BEAUTIFUL HE IS. FORGIVE HIM FOR EVERYTHING YOU GUYS DON'T BE MEAN

“Seph.”

“Mm?”

Ollie was napping, Cid and Vincent were out in the workshop with Reeve, and Nero was upstairs, probably starting an emo band or something. Sephiroth and Cloud were lying on the living room sofa, taking advantage of a rare lull in family activity, to enjoy some (admittedly PG-rated) physical affection.

Cloud lifted his head from his beloved’s broad chest to look into his face. “I was thinking. Since you’re here all the time, anyway, wouldn’t it be nice if, say, you had a space of your own? With like, four walls and, I don’t know…a door. Oh, maybe even a bed.” He frowned and tapped his bottom lip thoughtfully. “I feel like there’s a word for that…what was it?”

Sephiroth sighed. “Bedroom.”

“Bedroom! That was it! You need a bedroom. And, as it so happens, there are three empty bedrooms, in this house. Which means…”

“It isn’t my house.”

“It’s your dad’s house, though. Do you really think Vincent would have a problem with you borrowing a spare room? I think you should ask him about it.”

“I know what you think. You’ve been dropping not-so-subtle hints, all week.”

“Then why haven’t you done anything about it?”

Sephiroth looked away, shifting uneasily. “There’s not been a good opportunity to bring it up. Besides, if he wanted me to have a bedroom here, he would have offered.”

“Sephiroth. He’s your father,” Cloud said sternly. “He’s likely just as dense and socially maladjusted as you. He probably assumes you have your own place, since you’ve never mentioned anything about wanting to stay here. If you don’t bring it up, how is he supposed to know?”

“My father has had enough on his plate, since Nero arrived,” Sephiroth hedged. “I don’t want to overload him by making such a presumptuous request.”

“Overload him? You’ve taken a huge burden off him, by doing half the cooking and taking care of your sister, all the time. This household wouldn’t function without you. You at least deserve temporary accommodation.”

“I don’t do those things hoping to be rewarded.”

“Ok babe, listen. I didn’t want to do this, but I’m putting my foot down,” Cloud said, as he pushed himself up from the sofa. “Either you talk to your father about using one of the spare bedrooms, before I get back, or I’ll talk to him myself.”

“Back? Where are you going?” Sephiroth asked, getting up as well.

“Midgar. Gonna check in on Tifa and the kids.”

Sephiroth’s expression darkened. “Why?”

“They’re family, Seph,” Cloud answered wearily.

“They are not.”

“They are to me. People don’t stop being family when you have a falling out.”

“A falling out? Is that what you call it?”

Sephiroth’s normally gentle voice dripped with disdain. Whenever this topic came up, he was the most like he’d been, before. Sharp and acerbic, pupils contracted to slits in the blue-green irises, with an expression of icy hauteur on his beautiful face.

Fortunately, Cloud knew him too well, now, to fault him for it. Arrogance and sarcasm were Sephiroth’s last line of defense, when he felt particularly insecure and helpless. There was nothing that made him feel more insecure and helpless than Cloud’s foundling family, back in Midgar.

“I don’t expect you to forgive them, but I can’t just ignore our entire past and act like Tifa doesn’t exist,” he said, as he pulled on his boots. “Even if I could, I have a responsibility to those kids.”

“You are referring to the children that are not your biological offspring, and which she is currently raising with another man.”

“Yeah, well, at least Barrett’s there for them. That’s more than I ever was.”

A sneer curled Sephiroth’s pale lip. “Indeed, how selfless of him, to take time from his busy schedule, to care for the woman and children he voluntarily acquired. Acquired while you were away from home, as I recall.”

“I was away from home for almost a year. You can hardly blame him for using that time to win over the woman he’d always loved, who I was never romantic with, in the first place.”

“I can, however, blame them both, for treating you as deranged and dangerous, and organizing others to ambush and attempt to abduct you, rather than hearing you out.”

“They learned their lesson, didn’t they? And they heard me out, afterward.”

“Because they had no choice.”

“Yeah. Well. The important thing is that they know where I stand, and what happens if they try to corner me. No point dwelling on it.”

Sephiroth crossed his arms defensively. “I do not understand why, after they behaved the way they did, toward you, you would continue to associate with them. You are only putting yourself in a position to be mistreated again.”

“It’s not about that, Seph. Regardless of what happened between the adults, the kids still think of me as a parental figure. Denzel’s counting on me to be there for his first bike race. I’m not gonna let him down.”

Sephiroth was still stewing as he walked Cloud to the front door, and gave a disconsolate ‘hmph’, when Cloud kissed him goodbye, which made Cloud laugh and kiss him again.

“You’re adorable when you’re acting like a wet cat. I’ll be back in a few days. Promise me you’ll talk to your father about the spare bedroom, before then.”

“I promise,” Sephiroth said gloomily.

Cloud turned back and waved, after he started up the big, black Fenrir bike, and then roared away down the private drive, leaving a trail of dust clouds behind. Sephiroth lingered in the doorway, gazing the way he’d gone, well after he was out of sight.

“You really should lock that down,” Nero’s serpentine voice said, behind him, drawing him out of his ruminations.

Sephiroth turned an unfriendly eye on him. “What?”

“Your little lover, running off to see his friends, without you. Tsk tsk.”

“So, you were eavesdropping.”

“Who knows what they’ll say to him,” Nero went on, as if he hadn’t heard the remark. “Who they’ll introduce him to, hoping he’ll be enticed to greener pastures. If I were you, I would lock him down, before it’s too late.”

“What do you mean ‘lock him down’? Is he a military facility?”

Nero rolled his eyes. “I mean marry him. Make him truly and legally yours, before someone else tries to get their hooks into him.”

“Cloud and I do not need a certificate from some paltry human authorities, to declare our bond. We are not separable, by any power in this world, or otherwise.”

“Then why are you so jealous of his ex-lover and their children?” Nero asked pointedly, raising his black brows.

“They are not his children! And she was never his—why are you even talking to me? Do you enjoy provoking me, that much?”

“I am simply attempting to be a good brother,” Nero replied righteously. “Since it’s clear to me that you are staggeringly inept in matters of the heart, I thought you might benefit from some advice.”

“Ridiculous,” Sephiroth snorted. “I’m a grown man. You are a child. What could you possibly have to teach me, about such things?”

“Correction: you are a ghost. And child or no, I’d wager I’ve got more relationship experience than you. Tell me, were you a virgin, when you bedded that pretty blonde?”

“Was I—that’s one of your business!” Sephiroth fired back.

“So, yes,” Nero replied glibly. “I thought so. You do seem like the mates-for-life type.”

“I am not ashamed of that, and I won’t deny it. What is it to you?”

“Then we have that in common. So, it stands to reason we also share the desire to keep our chosen mate firmly in our hands.”

“Are you coming to a point, Nero?”

“Only this: you need to stop getting your hackles up, when he talks about his ex-whatever-she-is. When he goes to visit her and the brats, you have to stop making him feel like it’s at the cost of wounding you. Your jealousy isn’t going to keep you safe. You’re only going to make yourself miserable, and hurt him in the process.”

Sephiroth clenched his fists at his sides. “I am not jealous.”

“Well, yes you are. It takes one to know one, dear brother.”

“You’re admitting that you’re jealous, with Weiss?”

“Oh, very much so,” Nero laughed. “Extremely, monstrously, violently jealous. But Weiss likes that. Your little blonde does not. Your jealousy only makes him feel that you don’t trust him, and that you want him to choose between you and his friends. You don’t see that he has already chosen you. He’s not going to leave you for them, so stop acting like he might.”

Sephiroth wavered. “He has…already chosen me?”

“You really are an idiot,” Nero sighed. “I will only say this once, and I will deny it, if you ever repeat it to anyone. There is more of you in that boy’s heart than there is of himself. Weiss is literally my other half, and even I can’t make such a claim. Cloud Strife might love you more than any person in this world has ever loved another, and yet you’re still so cripplingly insecure, that you can’t let yourself accept it.”

“I was never loved, before.” Sephiroth lowered his eyes, passing a hand over his brow. “I don’t know how to go about it. I don’t know how to say the right words or make the right gestures. All I know how to do is hold on to him, with everything I have.”

“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn, is just to love and be loved, in return,” Nero said, in an odd, sing-song cadence.

Sephiroth blinked. “Are you…are you quoting Moulin Rouge, at me?”

“Mm-hm,” Nero nodded jauntily. “Cid and I watched it, last night, while father pretended not to be sleeping through it.”

“I love that movie,” Sephiroth pouted. “Why didn’t you tell me, so I could watch it too?”

“You and Cloud were asleep in the living room, with Ollie. Cid didn’t want to wake you. Also, you’re huge and the sofa in the den is too small. It would’ve been cramped, with all of us.”

Just then, both young men suddenly looked up at the ceiling.

“Ollie’s awake,” Sephiroth announced. “Time for her bottle.”

“Why don’t you take a break and let me do it,” Nero offered.

Sephiroth paused and eyed him suspiciously. “Do you know how to warm the formula to the correct temperature?”

“The warmer chooses the right temperature automatically,” Nero riposted.

“Do you know how to feed her?”

“How complicated can it be to hand a baby a bottle?”

Sephiroth crossed his arms. “And what if she needs to be changed?”

Nero staggered under that master stroke, and went a little green in the face. “On second thought, m—maybe you should do it, after all. I’m clueless about children, who knows what havoc I may cause.”

“Nonsense,” Sephiroth said, grabbing his wrist as he was about to flee. “You’re her brother and you should know how to take care of her, too. I’m happy to teach you. Let’s go.”

With that, Nero was herded into the kitchen, made to warm the bottle, under Sephiroth’s appraising eye, and then dragged upstairs toward the little goblin’s room, looking like he was going to his own execution.

Ollie’s soft, ultrafine baby hair already exhibited some of the same gravity-defying tendencies as Vincent’s and Nero’s. Thusly, it was sticking up all over her head, making her look like a scarlet-eyed hedgehog, as she stood in the crib on wobbly legs, hanging onto the rail for support.

“GUH-GUH-GUH!” she wailed, suddenly piteous and aggrieved, the moment she saw her brothers coming down the hall. “BABABABAAA!”

“Don’t fuss, mei-mei, I’m right here,” Sephiroth said softly, but much in the tone with which one would address an adult. “Your er-ge wants to learn to care for you, so he’ll be assisting, today.”

“Ah-ah-ah bababa,” Ollie burbled woefully, reaching for Nero, as Sephiroth lifted her from the crib.

Sephiroth spared her no mercy. “Patience, miss. You’ll have your bottle in a moment. You have to be changed, first.”

In protest of this unjust treatment, Ollie thrashed and kicked uncooperatively, as her brother laid her on the changing table and unsnapped her onesie—a candy-apple red number that had the words, ‘Daddy’s Little Devil’ embroidered in black, on the front.

There was an attached hood, too, that when it was pulled up, displayed a pair of mini devil horns. The overall effect was decidedly adorable, but Cid was no longer allowed to purchase baby clothing, unsupervised.

“The wipes are in the warmer, and the ointment, powder, and fresh diapers are in this drawer,” Sephiroth explained to Nero. “After you remove the soiled diaper, it goes in that device over there, which I’ll show you how to operate, momentarily.”

All the while, Ollie was squirming and whining with increasing energy, striving to get at the bottle in Nero’s hands. When the wet diaper came off, Nero averted his eyes reflexively, and Sephiroth was reaching for a baby wipe. Thus, both of them missed the thin, black tentacle that appeared out of nowhere, and flew toward Nero.

Nero gave a yelp of surprise, as the bottle was yanked out of his hand, making Sephiroth turn to look, just in time to see the darkness tendril that was coiled around it placing the bottle in Ollie’s eager hands.

“I thought you had control of those things,” Sephiroth scolded Nero. “Why did you let it do that?”

“I didn’t,” Nero said. “It’s one of mine, but it…it didn’t come from me.”

“If it didn’t come from you, then where in the ten hells—” Sephiroth stopped short.  

For a moment, both men stood there, staring at the baby, who was reveling in her ill-gotten bottle, and gleefully kicking her chubby legs.

“But she can’t control darkness…can she?” Sephiroth asked. “She’s only a baby.”

Nero only shook his head dazedly. Sephiroth decided he’d better test it out, first, before they decided how to proceed.

“Sorry, meimei,” he muttered, and abruptly snatched the bottle from her hands.

The infant’s entire, round head turned bright pink, as she revved up for a piercing yowl of indignation, directing all her ire at her cruel eldest brother, who had taken away her prize. As quick as a whip, the darkness tentacle shot out from somewhere on her person and jerked the bottle right back out of Sephiroth’s hand, promptly returning it to the wronged party.

Sephiroth and Nero looked at one another, then back at their little sister. There was no mistaking it, this time. The darkness tendril had originated from Ollie, and appeared to be at least partially under her control.

Sephiroth’s brow furrowed. “I can overpower and grasp your darkness strands, temporarily, but I can’t take them from you. How could this happen?”

“I have no idea.” Nero swallowed hard. “Maybe…maybe one got loose and attached to her, somehow.”

“Well un-attach it,” Sephiroth said peevishly. “Have you any idea how dangerous a baby with darkness abilities could be? To herself, as well as others?”

“They’re my abilities, you don’t have to tell me,” Nero retorted.

“What are you waiting for, then? Command it to return.”

“If I could do that, I would have! Shut up and let me think, for a second! And will you please put a diaper on that gremlin? She has no sense of modesty, whatsoever.”

Sephiroth turned to finish cleaning and diapering the little miscreant, pulling her onesie legs back on, while she smiled and cooed beatifically, as if she were one of heaven’s most innocent cherubim. Which was especially incongruous, at the moment, considering the black hair, the red eyes, and the devil costume.

Nero was in a quandary. He hadn’t intended to tell anyone about the incident, with the small spider, least of all the house’s overbearing guard-dog, Sephiroth, but there was nothing for it. They were in this together, now.

“There’s something else,” he said, with deep reluctance. The look Sephiroth gave him did not inspire a feeling of camaraderie, but he forged ahead. “A few nights ago, I think…I was with her, on the other side.”

Blue-green eyes flashed with deadly intent. “You what?”

“I didn’t bring her there! I didn’t even suspect it was her, until I came back out of it, and put the pieces together. But I have no idea how she’d be able to connect to my darkness, let alone trespass in my void, without my knowledge. I was planning to…ahem. To try to bring her back there. If she appeared in the same form, I’d be able to—”

Before he finished the sentence, Sephiroth’s big hand had already closed around Nero’s throat. “You were planning to take my little sister to the void? Give me one reason I shouldn’t twist your head off, now, and spare my father the trouble.”

Nero couldn’t answer, with Sephiroth choking him, but he didn’t have to. A shrill wail erupted from the changing table, and that little tendril flew out again, this time constricting around Sephiroth’s wrist, trying with all its might to tear him away from Nero.

“Guh-guh-guh! Ah-guh-guh!” Ollie bawled, big tears pouring down her apple cheeks.

Sephiroth let Nero go immediately. “I’m sorry, Ollie. I wasn’t really going to hurt your er-ge, I promise. I’m so sorry I scared you.”

Ollie kept sobbing and gurgling nonsense at him, till Nero got fed up and translated.

“She thinks we’re fighting. She wants us to…” He sighed heavily. “…to hug and make up.”

Sephiroth made a face. “Hug who, each other?”

“No, jackass, a behemoth. Of course each other.”

Sephiroth looked at Ollie, who was peering up at him with big, round, teary eyes. He had no power to refuse his baby sister anything, let alone when she looked so sad.

“Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

With the air of children about to take bitter medicine, the two erring brothers reached out and embraced one another stiffly.

“Look, mei-mei, everything is alright,” Sephiroth coaxed, patting Nero’s back. “No one is angry with anyone.”

“Yes, your big brothers love each other. See?” Nero added, also patting Sephiroth’s back.

Ollie stopped actively bawling, but kept watching the two warily, sniffling and gnawing on her fingers, and drooling copiously in the process. One of Nero’s purple-black tendrils emerged and snaked over, heroically submitting itself to be used as a teething toy, for the greater good. Ollie, who liked the tendrils, for their springy texture and soothing coldness, was successfully pacified.

Sephiroth turned to Nero, keeping his expression placid and his voice mild. “Please explain to me why, when you believed my sister to be at large in the metaphysical plane, you thought it was a good idea to not only conceal it from her family, but to try to take her back there.”

“In my position, would you have told anyone? Would you have said to our father and Cid ‘Hey dads, your precious infant daughter may be leaving the material plane by traversing my darkness realm, oopsie doopsie.’ How do you think Cid would handle that?”

“I suppose I see your point,” Sephiroth conceded. “But that does not explain why you would risk taking her there, again.”

“It’s not like I was going to endanger her,” Nero said defensively. “I can keep her safe, if she goes with me. If she’s running around in there, by herself, I don’t know what could happen to her. I can communicate with her through the darkness, and explain all that to her, but it’s much safer to do it on the other side. That way, even if the connection goes haywire, there’s no risk of damage to her physical body.”

“Just to her psyche and soul.”

“How do you think her psyche and soul would fare, if she were to become lost, and unable to find her way back?” Nero contended. “There is no concept of time or space, there. It is literally infinite. The only way to ensure her safety, is for me to connect with her. Once we’re connected, I might even be able to find out how she’s getting in, and stop her. If I can’t stop her, I can at least keep a tether on her.”

Sephiroth eyed him cagily. “Why are you suddenly so concerned for her well-being? This seems like a lot of trouble to go to, for a half-sister by a father you don’t even acknowledge.”

“Worry not, brother, I haven’t suddenly turned altruist,” Nero sneered. “I only care because I think she might be able to help me find Weiss. She can’t do that if her soul is lost in the void.”

Sephiroth smiled bitterly. “I should’ve guessed. It always comes back to Weiss, with you. He’s the only person that matters to you, after all.”

“What do you care? You never wanted me here. The sooner I find him, the sooner I’ll be gone, and the sooner you’ll have your father all to yourself. Who knows, with me out of the way, he may even start to love you.”

“I don’t want his love,” Sephiroth said tonelessly. “I don’t need it. I am not a child.”

“You are, however, a terrible liar.” Nero’s taunting expression froze on his face, as his slit pupils dilated in the crimson-magenta irises. “A tug…a tug!”

“What?”

“There’s a tug, in the darkness! It has to be Weiss! I’m going after him!”

Sephiroth watched, fascinated, as Nero’s eyes seemed to fill with ink, turning pitch black—iris, sclera, and all. It happened so quickly, it was almost startling. He waved a hand in front of the young man’s face, a few times, and got no reaction. He must be on the other side already.

“Alright, Ollie, let’s go see if—” Sephiroth’s blood ran cold. His little sister was lying on the changing table, staring blankly into space, with those very same eerie, ink-pit eyes. “Fuck.”

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY yes barrett and tifa are a couple in this. like they always should have been.

[tuliptiger]

The number of times I've rewatched Arcane is truly astounding. There is a new facet of each character I get through every time, it's such a show that rewards you when you take another look at it.

It's really weird to me people are taking such harsh stances on Vi, Jinx (specifically not Powder) and Caitlyn. People's opinions are their own full stop but I think all of these extreme views of these characters could be changed by just watching the show again?

Caitlyn -

At the end we get an entire scene dedicated to both Jinx and Caitlyn saying PLAINLY, where we rarely get obvious, that they do Not hate each other anymore. They've grown, they've empathized, they've moved on. Forgiven? Debatable but they have for sure moved past hating.

My interpretation of what Jinx said, about blowing the building up with Caitlyn's mom, wasn't ever intended to be an apology. I think it was to reply to what Caitlyn said, Jinx was saying I don't hate you either, I wouldn't have changed my actions but it wasn't personal to you and I don't hate you personally. She definitely still killed her mom, but it wasn't because of anything Caitlyn did and it wasn't personal.

Has anyone considered Caitlyn's feelings on that entire situation too if we follow that lens of the jail scene? She definitely blamed herself in some way for her moms death. Either for her hesitation in not killing Jinx, which she's stated, or she may have even felt that Jinx took her hatred of Caitlyn out on her mother directy. With Jinx's words in the jail scene, Caitlyn can walk away knowing that it wasn't anything she did to influence or cause her mom's death, Jinx was going to do it anyway and she literally could have had no way of knowing that.

Are they besties and love each other and want to be in each other's space more than they maybe have to be? That's up to peoples interpretation on that one because we don't really get any canon for that to go on. I'd say based on everything that is Caitlyn, she'd try to be cordial and make nice awkwardly.

Caitlyn's character as a whole is so subtle compared to what media normally gives for any and all characters in general. It's in the details, it's in the subtleness of facial expressions and eyes, and it's absolutely in all of the flown by one liners that have incredible story weight. The number of things I've personally missed in season 2 where they give us a huge explanation of what's going on, and it's in a montage and it's 3 words long. Caitlyn is IN those lines.

It's in her comparisons, it's in her parallels with JINX. And that's not even subtle or a stretch they're everywhere. What each scene and each parallel scene means... is harder to interpret for me honestly but I can see it and recognize it all the same. Caitlyn is such a sweetheart, she really is. She's also a hard worker, dedicated and strong willed. All of this is shown in the show and people don't...ever talk about this or say the complete opposite. Many people have said how people are harder on Caitlyn than Jinx for similar or same "crimes" and I have to agree.

Vi -

Vi haters I sincerely, I don't get you guys I'm going to say that straight up. Vi only ever chose with her heart, she's like the most normal person out of everyone in this show. Like if you picked any random stranger off the real world street from anywhere I personally feel like she'd act like any regular person.

Maybe not the giant fist gloves cuz that's scary and being up close fighting is also scary. But using fighting and alcohol to fight off your demons and go into a mad spiral when your life falls apart? That's real shit. Choosing your family over most things? That's real. Choosing your significant other over things is also real.

These are all things in real life that people do all the fucking time and it either pans out or it doesn't but the POINT is when it comes to making choices in relationships it's not ALWAYS about choosing what makes sense. Or what's "morally" correct, she was choosing with her big old stupid dumb truck of a heart and she loved and she believed and she wanted to do everything she possibly could to support the people she loved.

She spent like 7 years in a horrific hell prison and that, as an understatement, does stuff to you especially being put in there at what 16?

She was, I'm going to go out on a limb, in MY interpretation of her character, and say she was not selfish a single time the entire series. She did everything to get back to Powder, and then she learned Powder was Jinx, she tried to help Ekko and Caitlyn as an in-between. And she still chose Powder even if she didn't get to make it to her. Her everything was always helping others, what were her grand motivations and goals? Like nothing, there's nothing there other than loving and being around people she likes.

She had a moment of weakness where she lost everything and was in an incredible amount of pain emotionally and physically when she hit Powder. And she was going to go back for her after she had a MOMENT to try and clear her head after watching her FAMILY DIE AND hitting her sister out of anger. And hitting Powder HORRIFIED her after she realized what she did. Let us not forget Marcus wouldn't even be there if not for Silco working with him in the first place btw. Silco will come up again.

Jinx -

She's my baby. I love her. She's so tragic it kills me and we get a clear picture of who she could've been with love and support in the AU. With Vander and anyone other than fucking SILCO.

Silco side note - People Love to ignore how shitty he was for her. Yes he sincerely loved her, I think he was well written and a compelling character. He also lied, manipulated and directly put her in harm mentally and physically constantly. He encouraged and grew her into a monster, be it for her own defense or more likely for himself and his own hurts he never dealt with.

In the au, I guess when she doesn't accidentally kill her family, she turns out healthier too. And I can't stress enough she DOES accidentally kill her family at...12 years old.

Another more related side note, people also love to look past or not even mention the unbelievable and stupendous fact of bombs and explosives in this universe. Who in their right mind would expect to find a magical bomb during a robbery. Who would expect Jinx to pull out a magically charged fuck-you shark cannon and blow up the counsel building. She just recognized that the bombs were related to the apartment explosion, I doubt she was really thinking HOW explosive they would be packed together in one of her bombs that famously never work. Idk man I don't regularly expect things that shouldn't explode to explode or for them to come up in any scenario really.

Anyway! Not even getting into how fucked it is to be a preteen in general, not getting into how fucked it is to grow up poor and in a violent environment that is Zaun and have the meager and small body type Powder had like. Vi also had to deal with most of that but at her age she had her mom and dad and Vander and Silco. Powder had Vi, as a child herself, and Vander.

ANYWAY. Totally not counting any of that, a 12 year old unknowingly partakes in the Arcane's grand plans to completely fuck over her life and accidentally kills her family. Is, in her mind, disowned by the only person left in her life. Is then collected by Silco who subsequently fuels her insecurities and shatters her identity, sense of self and mind.

At 18! 18! Her world is shattered once more many times over in rapid succession by learning Silco lied to her, Vi is alive and looking for her, Vi is alive and actually she replaced you (in her head) with another blue haired blue eyed sharpshooter who's cooler and better than you ever were and she's a cop. Great awesome and you accidentally snap during a mental breakdown and for the second time kill one of your dads. And you don't get to stay with your sister because you think she doesn't love you anymore.

Jinx and Vi were also not given one single god damned moment alone to talk and clear the damn air and it's a tragedy. I KNOW it's a tragedy but it's still frustrating as hell.

And I don't want to go into every single moment and every single wrong doing on her part, it'd be exhausted. Mental health isn't ever satisfying. Period. There's never a good reason or an acceptable reason why someone does a shitty thing and it isn't an excuse for the action. It's just a reason and if it makes that reason a little more understandable then that kind of sucks when you just wanted to hate that character. When you just wanted the moral high ground.

She bombed the council building. She kidnapped and traumatized Caitlyn on more than one occasion, with the traumatizing part. She killed innocent people. She gassed an entire population of people untargetted and unspecifically. She was planning on dying during that attack. She helped Silco with his drug empire, and his oppression of his own people.

She was 18. Piltover oppressed and took advantage of Zaun for decades if not centuries, any time is too long but the important part was that it was her entire life and her loved ones lives. She was struggling with her identity, not the normal "who am I" we all deal with growing up but a real identity crisis. Powder, the nothing, the Jinx, the can't do anything right, the weak one, and the family killer vs Jinx, a Jinx by choice and to others, a predator, strong, capable, inventive, independent and dangerous. She lost everything over and over and over again and sincerely believed it was her DIRECT fault everyone around her died. She was so in her own head she didn't have the capacity to look at the reality around her and make sane decisions.

She needed help and she needed a rock in the middle of a torrential river to take a break on. She needed a life vest and she did everything she could to keep her head above the water in the ways she was shown how.

It doesn't excuse her actions or take them back. To me, it's hard for me to look at every facet of what happened and only or fully blame Jinx though. That's what she did the entire show and it was objectively not true. In another life, in different circumstances she chose differently because she was in a place to do so. They made an entire episode dedicated to this fact. To me, she was like a caged tiger trained to eat people being released into the wild and then people are mad it ate people. And shes 18.

There's not a neat way to wrap up all of this. If you don't like a character then that's your prerogative. Everyone has different interpretations of what some scenes and symbolism can mean too, but there's some blatant truths about all of these characters in the show. The only way I see some people believe their takes is to ignore the characters entirely tbh and it makes me sad. Or they need to be reminded who the characters are and rewatch the show, which I recommend because you get to watch Arcane again.

[ruvastuon]

Army of the Damned

Thanks for the prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial

Warnings: Curses, blood, war

Summary: A group of soldiers on the front lines of a losing war are given an order that can not be ignored. For the sake of peace, they must sacrifice everything, but will they be so willing to blindly follow the cues of a power that has left them to rot in the wilderness for almost a decade?

...

Draped in pale linens, far to clean for the grime of their camp, a priest at the side of a heavily armored knight. An odd pair to see on the front lines, especially this deep into hell. Despite the gore around them, neither seemed to notice the pools of blood and damned that littered their path, clearly separating them from the soldiers who had long since joined with the filth.

“Brothers of the light, I have come to you in this darkness to beg your aid and sacrifice.” Unlike the last three envoys, the priest spoke the Camon tongue entirely too smoothly. Fergal’s shoulders tensed as he shifted one of the wounded behind him. Their kind couldn’t enter the order, and no one would have willingly instructed an outsider on that dialect, especially when the common tongue was so widely used. 

“What business does the delegation have in this cursed land?” It was Rima who finally stood to speak for them, still hunched from his wounds but no less fierce than when they had first been cast into this pit. Fergal watched the armored knight shift towards their side and braced himself for an attack only for the figure to drop a leather satchel onto one of the few remaining dry patches of earth. 

“Brothers, you have fought long to protect our kingdom, but the enemy we face far outmatches us still. We are running out of time, and soon the eclipse will be upon us.” Bubbling dread began brewing in his stomach. Another suicide mission? No, they would have just sent a bird for something so trivial. Everyone already knew that their company wasn’t supposed to make it, they’d all but said it last time. Something else was going on here. 

“You have all been selected by the grace of his majesty the king to save our people. Brothers of the light, you have but to head our master’s call.” Rima stepped forward, warily eyeing the knight as he picked up the satchel and slowly broke the velvet seal bearing their king’s personal crest. After rifling through it for a few moments, he turned to Fergal and signed for him to approach with a subtle jerk of his head. 

Despite his curiosity, Fergal hesitated. While he didn’t want to leave his patients like this, especially with such a strange pair, if the knight wanted to act there wasn’t much good he could do to protect them anyway. So he swallowed his instincts and stepped forward accepting a roll of paper from a stack of identically prepared parchments. 

Using his knife to break another seal, Fergal slowly exposed the contents and began scanning them for anything useful, but it was written in the king's tongue. Running his fingers over the heavy woven texture he tried to divine some hidden meaning from the blots of deep red ink staining its surface. Slowly catching onto the altered dialect of the script, he quickly began piecing together the contract, feeling his blood freeze over at the implications. They were really desperate then. 

“What is it Fergal?” 

He glanced at the Priest whose expression hadn’t changed. Did he know? Fergal didn’t fail to notice the knight’s posture becoming more rigid with every moment he hesitated. 

“What language even is this? What does it say?” The fear wasn’t hard to inject into his words, and the confusion was easy enough to translate for his cause, but the knight still didn’t relax even if the Priest seemed satisfied with his illiteracy. Even if it wasn’t illegal for someone unaffiliated with the order to have the ability to decipher the text, no one privy to the necessary education for such a feat should have been this deep into the front lines.  

“It is a contract of power Brother.” No. “It will break down one's body in exchange for power.” Not by a long shot it wouldn’t. “I know it is a great sacrifice to ask, but your valor wouldn’t be overlooked. You can save all those who you have so desperately kept safe from this fight.” Rima gave him a sidelong glance before setting down the satchel. 

“Give us the night to think priest. My men need that much.” The priest's smile faltered for a second before coming back in an even more blinding force. 

“Of course, we will return in the morning, and await your acceptance then. Thank you again for your sacrifices, brothers.” 

“What is it?” Rima spoke  in a hushed whisper as soon as the knight and priest were far enough away to mask their voices.

“A way to end the war.” Choking out the words, Fergal tried to calm his shaking fingers as he rolled up the paper and threw it back on the pile. If he told them, how many would try to run? Would the priests even let them? There were just enough scrolls for the living and there was no doubt in his mind that if it wasn’t one of them that became fuel for the war, it would be someone far less deserving. By all sense he should have just left the rest unsaid, but he couldn’t keep the guilt from his eyes as he watched the survivors looking to him for the guidance he was always so keen to lend. Rima nodded his head and handed him the bag. 

“We all gave up on life the moment we crossed the border, but why should we loose our deaths as well?” Fergal paused before accepting the bag.  

“I’ll need blood from everyone and a solid quill or two.” A rye smile crossed Rima’s face and the once quiet camp erupted into activity as everyone began collecting the necessary supplies. 

When the red sun broke over the fog covered fields, each of the soldiers had their contracts in hand awaiting the priest's arrival. Eventually the tense silence between them was broken by the sound of someone clapping slowly as dozens of knights stepped out of the fog surrounding them, only confirming what Fergal had already suspected. 

“Well brothers, have you made your choice?” A half chuckle escaped his lips as Rima stepped forward slicing open his finger. 

“Will this suffice for a signature?” Raising his bloodied thumb for inspection the Priest grew somewhat somber. “It will suffice” 

Fergal and the rest of the company followed their leader's cue, slicing into their dominant hand and pressing their blood into the paper without hesitation.

“Thank you for your sacrifice brother’s, you will be hailed as protectors for ages to come.” 

Tendrils of red energy emerged from the connection, wrapping up Fergal’s arm and quickly burrowing into his skin like thousands of tiny needles working their way up to his brain in quick lunging bursts. Piercing through his skull and out his eyes they wove into his being, pulling away at what reason they could latch onto. Then he was something else, more than human, but less than a man. Fergal looked down at the writhing mass of shadows that had once been his hands and with the others mourned the loss of his being. 

They would be tireless, nearly indestructible killing machines, with the sole purpose of destroying their foe, and bringing peace to their kingdom. Doubtless the king had intended to use them far beyond that given the intricate mechanisms that had been woven into the curse, but once the enemies were routed, they would have their deaths. Fergal wouldn’t let anyone take that from them.  

[hannahs-ownworld1]

Summary: Fox River wasn’t just a prison, it was a pressure cooker of desperation, secrets, and betrayal. You’d learned that quickly enough. Lincoln Burrows, the man everyone looked up to for his quiet strength, was someone who had been burned too many times to trust easily. You knew that about him from the start. He kept to himself, always watching, always waiting for the next betrayal.

Authors note: please keep in mind that this is my first fic so please be nice😭I hope you guys like this, even if you haven’t watched Prison Break, I recommend it, it’s a great show.

———————————————————————————

You’d tried to earn his trust for months. You weren’t like the others, you didn’t have a hidden agenda. But every time you offered help, every time you tried to break through that stone wall of his, you were met with suspicion. He didn’t say much, but the way he looked at you, the hard lines of his face, the mistrust in his eyes, made it clear. Lincoln didn’t trust anyone, not even you.

Then came the night everything changed. A deal had gone wrong, a group of inmates planning something behind Lincoln’s back. You caught wind of it, overheard enough to know they were setting him up. Without a second thought, you stepped in. When they cornered him in the yard that night, you didn’t hesitate. You stood by his side, fighting them off, and taking a few hits yourself.

When it was over, and the attackers were scattered, Lincoln turned to you, chest heaving from the exertion. His eyes searched your face, as if trying to figure out why you’d done it. You were bruised, but standing, and you met his gaze evenly.

“Why’d you do that?” he asked, voice low and rough, the first words he’d spoken directly to you in days.

You shrugged, wincing at the pain in your shoulder. “Didn’t seem right, letting you get jumped like that.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond, just stared at you. Then he nodded, the briefest hint of understanding passing between you. He didn’t say it, but you knew that something had shifted. You had proven yourself.

Over the next few days, the air between you two was different. Lincoln didn’t talk much, but the glances he shot your way weren’t full of suspicion anymore. It was subtle, an extra nod when you passed in the yard, the way he’d wait for you in line at chow. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Then, one night, you were sitting in your cell, the dim light casting long shadows on the concrete walls, when you heard footsteps stop outside your door. Lincoln appeared, leaning against the bars. His usual guarded expression was still there, but there was something else, something softer.

He looked around, making sure no one was listening, then spoke in a low voice. “You ever been in a situation where you had to trust someone, even when everything in you was screaming not to?”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden question. “Yeah. And it’s never easy.”

He nodded, his jaw working as if he was struggling to find the right words. “That’s how I’ve lived for a long time. Not trusting anyone. It’s… safer that way.”

You stayed quiet, sensing that this was something important. Something he hadn’t shared with anyone in a long time.

“I didn’t want to trust you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But when you stepped in back there… you didn’t have to. You did it anyway.”

“I’m not them,” you said softly. “I’m not here to screw you over.”

For a long moment, Lincoln didn’t speak. Then, finally, he met your eyes, and for the first time since you’d known him, his walls came down, just a little.

“I know,” he said, his voice gruff but sincere. “I know that now.”

And in that moment, you realized you had broken through. Lincoln Burrows, the man who trusted no one, had finally let you in.

———————————————————————————

I really hope you guys liked it! Especially you fellow prison break fans! There’s barely any prison break fanfics so I decided to start off with those! Anyways, let me know what y’all think. I’ll take requests as well🤍

[recklesslycaffeinated]

As someone who is also writing fanfics, I wanted to ask, how do you lay out your plot-? I love your writing, the emotions are so strong and so realistic, but even more so, I love your plot. You have great foreshadowing and even better plot twists. Plus, when you change the POV for chapters, it truly feels like a whole different person, which can be hard (for me) when writing. Do you have any tactics you use/would be willing to share?

Oof, good but complicated question. Particularly hard to answer when you believe plotting is your weak point! Maybe that's why I put a lot of effort into it. Okay, here we go... and spoilers for Skeleton Crew.

Most important rule - you can’t foreshadow if you don’t know where you’re going. And you can tell if a writer abandons their original idea, because the end doesn’t feel natural or satisfying.

There are so many ways to plot, but I use the 16 point plot plan. It covers all the key beats, so I can’t ever get really lost. Even when my characters do their own bloody thing without permission (Alastor, Sans, I’m looking at you two), I’m not losing any of the structure or foreshadowing work I’ve done.

https://writershq.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2018/06/magical-16-point-plot-planner.pdf

When foreshadowing a twist, the biggest fear I have is ‘this is too obvious, everyone’s going to know’. But from experience, few do. I thought for sure everyone would realize Tido was the mole when I laid out the early hints. But I only really remember maybe two or three comments, guessing it might be her.

There’s a belief twists are supposed to be completely out of the blue. Nah. You need to lay the groundwork. “And then the meteor hit” is not a twist if it comes out of nowhere. No one wants a deus ex meteor strike. The twist needs to be a logical extension of the story, not a random plot device.

Knowing who knows what, and what they choose to reveal, is a good way to foreshadow. The way a character speaks can hint at a twist. It can be subtle and written off - a character reminiscing about a dead man in the present tense can be written off as an expression of grief. Twist! He’s alive! It’s an oldie but a goodie.

When I’m writing something with a lot of characters, I keep a little list about who knows what and at what point in the story. It’s useful to keep your facts in order. I wrote a draft of a sci-fi novel (over 100k) before realising that one character couldn’t possibly know what they know and it messed the whole thing up.

*Pained author sounds and redrafting.*

Thematic foreshadowing! Tricky, but worth it, and also requires you to understand your story before putting it on paper. Or the internet. Another classic example - Romeo and Juliet isn’t shy in hitting you over the head with its themes of fate, destiny and tragedy. If it wasn’t clear from the opening lines, the constant messaging of being unable to escape your fate foreshadows where we’re ending up.

In Skeleton Crew, I wanted to explore the idea of picking a side and fighting for what you believe in. The nurse, bless her naïve socks, starts the novel hoped that though her actions are criminal, she was not herself a criminal. That the world is basically good, and she was just fixing a wrong. She starts the novel with a tranq gun and ends it with a shotgun.

Ending with the nurse shooting someone with a shotgun was one of the first things I realised when planning. Everything was leading to that pivot in her character. Because I knew that, I could shape everything around it. By the end, she’s accepted there’s something wrong with the world, and she has to stand up for what’s important to her. Not as a nurse, but as a soulmate and a fighter.

Anyway, forgive the rambly thoughts. If you want further reading, or just better advice from someone smarter than I am, I’d recommend https://jerichowriters.com/what-is-foreshadowing-in-literature/

[yoomiwrites]

Salty Rush⁶

Summary: Some time ago, Reader was a partner of Akainu, a comrade he could rely on. Reader betrayed the navy, became part of a pirate crew...And finally the two face each other again.

Note: God, this is only chapter 6. We have around 20 more to go! Anyways, I know it's SLOW and much stuff is repeatedly the theme (like new caverns, lol) but please keep in mind that it's Akainu. With a traitor. He needs all that time. And don't worry, they will get out sooner or later. xD But for now, a little bit more romance??? Next chapter after 20 reactions or at friday!

The cavern we found was large enough to offer some breathing room, the ceiling high and craggy, giving the illusion of space. A soft glow came from the walls, faint minerals casting just enough light for us to see without our lanterns. It wasn’t much, but after the suffocating tunnels we’d crawled through, it felt like a small reprieve.

I sank against the rough stone wall, my body too worn out to argue with the need for rest. The pain in my side had dulled to a constant throb, but I could feel the toll it was taking. Sakazuki stopped a short distance away, his sharp eyes surveying the cavern for any danger, always the vigilant one. His jaw was set, and his silence had become more oppressive with each step.

After a long moment, he finally sat down as well, though still keeping some distance between us. I couldn’t help but glance at him, the way his powerful frame slouched ever so slightly, betraying the exhaustion he was too proud to admit. He didn’t say a word, didn’t even look at me, but I could feel the weight of unspoken tension hanging in the air between us.

I leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes for a moment, trying to ease the ache in my muscles. The warmth from his Devil Fruit power still lingered, enough to take the edge off the cavern’s cold. Despite everything, it was oddly comforting to sit in the warmth he provided, like we were back in the old days, before things had gone so wrong.

After a long stretch of silence, I couldn’t help myself. “When did you get that tattoo?” I asked, nodding toward the dark ink that curled up his chest and neck like flames. I hadn’t seen it before, not back when we trained together.

Sakazuki’s eyes shifted toward me briefly, but his expression didn’t change. For a moment, I thought he might ignore the question altogether.

“A while ago,” he answered finally, his tone flat. He didn’t offer any more explanation.

“Must’ve hurt,” I said, almost to myself.

He huffed, a short, dismissive sound. “Pain is irrelevant.”

I sighed, leaning my head back against the wall, watching him out of the corner of my eye. "Yeah, you always said that."

More silence settled between us, thick with the weight of everything left unsaid. I couldn’t shake the memories, the way we used to spar together, pushing each other to our limits. How we had grown stronger side by side. Back then, everything had seemed clear. We were soldiers with a mission. But now...

“I know you’ll do it,” I said softly, my voice barely a whisper. “When we get out of here. You’ll follow through on your duty.”

Sakazuki stiffened but didn’t respond. I hadn’t expected him to. Duty was everything to him. It was what had driven him, what had shaped him. And it was the same duty that now drew a line between us, one that couldn’t be erased. Not easily, anyway.

I pressed on, my voice quiet but steady. “But we’re not out yet. Can’t we… I don’t know, just stop pretending for a minute? You don’t have to keep pushing me away.”

He glanced at me, his jaw clenched, but still said nothing. The air between us was thick with tension, the kind that came from years of things left unsaid. But this time, he didn’t pull back, didn’t distance himself. It was subtle, but it was there—a shift, something softer beneath the hardened exterior.

I closed my eyes again, leaning into the warmth that he continued to radiate through the cave, feeling the strange sense of peace that came with being near him, even if it was temporary. Even if it was fragile.

Eventually, the exhaustion pulled me under, and I didn’t know when I fell asleep.

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the cold.

I blinked groggily, my mind sluggish as I registered the figure beside me. Sakazuki had fallen asleep, his broad shoulders rising and falling gently with each breath. The soft glow of the cavern illuminated his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the faint lines of tension that seemed to relax as he slept.

For a moment, I just watched him, the way his usually fierce expression was softened in slumber. There was something vulnerable about him now, something that made my heart ache in a way I didn’t fully understand. He was still the imposing man I remembered, but there was a hint of weariness etched into his features, a sign of the burdens he carried.

I wanted to reach out, to touch him, but I hesitated. Memories flooded back—of us training, of the camaraderie we’d shared. Back then, he had been more than just an officer to me. He had been a friend, someone I looked up to. And then things had changed, the duty that drove him creating an insurmountable rift between us.

But as I sat there, the distance felt less daunting. The flickering warmth radiating from his body was inviting, and I inched a little closer, drawn in by an unexplainable urge. I watched the way his brow furrowed slightly in his sleep, as if he were caught in some internal battle. I felt a pang of empathy for him, knowing how hard he fought to maintain his facade.

I let out a soft sigh, feeling both comforted and burdened by the memories. “You’re not just a soldier, Sakazuki,” I whispered, unsure if he could hear me. “You could change things if you wanted to.”

I wanted to lean in closer, to feel the warmth of his body against mine, to bridge the gap that had grown between us. But as the thought crossed my mind, the reality of our situation crashed over me. Even here, in this moment of calm, the storm of our past loomed over us, a shadow that wouldn’t easily dissipate.

Suddenly, Sakazuki stirred, his eyes fluttering open. His gaze met mine, and for a heartbeat, the world around us fell away. In that moment, it felt like we were the only two people in existence.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep, but there was no bite to it—only confusion.

I pulled back slightly, my heart racing. “Just… watching you,” I admitted, surprised at my own honesty.

“Why?” he asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

“Why not?” I replied, a teasing smile creeping onto my lips. “I mean, it’s not every day I get to see the great Sakazuki at rest. You know, you might even be more handsome when you’re not scowling.”

He blinked, taken aback for a moment, his expression a mix of surprise and something else—something softer. “That’s… irrelevant.”

“Oh, come on!” I chuckled, nudging him playfully. “Tell me you haven’t found someone to keep you company. Are you still too cool for relationships?”

His eyes narrowed, and I could see the gears turning in his head as he processed my words. “Who should I have married with you not being there?”

The moment the words left his mouth, a heavy silence filled the cavern. Realization washed over him, and I watched as the warmth in his expression evaporated. He straightened, his posture shifting back into the cold, stoic Sakazuki I knew so well.

“Forget I said anything,” he muttered, standing abruptly. He turned away, pacing a few steps, clearly trying to distance himself again.

“Sakazuki, wait!” I called after him, refusing to let him slip away so easily. “You can’t just walk off after saying something like that. How do you mean it? Did you love me? Do you still?”

He turned sharply, his eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and something deeper, something almost vulnerable. “This isn’t a game, Y/N! You think you can just bring up the past and act like it doesn’t matter?”

“Why not? We were close once. I can’t help but wonder if you actually meant it!” I pressed, my tone lighter than the gravity of the conversation warranted, trying to tease him again. “It’s not like you’ve had anyone else to take your mind off things.”

That seemed to hit a nerve. His expression darkened, and in an instant, the air around us crackled with tension. “You want to know how I meant it?” he snapped, and suddenly, the heat emanating from his body intensified. “How about this: I might or might not have loved you, but it was childish! Do you understand? This is—”

Before he did finish, a surge of his power erupted, flames flickering dangerously close to me. I felt the heat wash over my skin, a reminder of just how volatile he could be. “You think it’s all a joke?” he growled, the fury barely contained within him.

I took a step back, the adrenaline making my heart race. “Sakazuki!” I exclaimed, the fear in my voice cutting through the tension.

But as quickly as it had ignited, his anger began to ebb. He let out a heavy breath, the fire around us cooling as he seemed to rein himself back in. His shoulders relaxed just a fraction as he turned to look at me, something softer creeping back into his gaze.

“Damn it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face. Then, almost as if drawn by an invisible force, he stepped closer to me. I held my breath, the air thick with uncertainty.

He raised his hand, still warm from his powers, and gently placed it against my cheek. The contact sent a jolt through me, an electric sensation that felt both familiar and foreign. Our eyes locked, and for a brief moment, the chaos around us faded away.

I could see the struggle in his gaze, a battle between the warmth we once shared and the cold reality of our current situation. But just as quickly, the realization of where we were hit us like a wave, and the moment shattered.

I turned my face away, my cheeks heating from the intimacy of the gesture. “Uh, maybe we should… um, focus on getting out of here,” I stammered, breaking the tension.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice low and steady as he withdrew his hand, his expression hardening again.