#she's much more jaded and brooding

[bixels]

(Sunset!) Sunset!

Have you always been alone?

(Sunset!) Sunset!

Have you never loved again?

Some design sketches for Sunset, the Witch of Fire, the Flame of the West. A leaf in the wind, she travels from town to town with her trusty steed Shimmer, bringing trouble wherever they go.

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: How to Ruin a Plot || Jade Leech

When you end up as the villainess in a story that's hellbent on making her suffer for no reason, you decide to make the main characters suffer just for catharsis. Good thing that your fiancé, Jade Leech seems to like chaos as much as you.

Series Masterlist

Dinner wasn’t much to write home about—a plate of lukewarm spaghetti that could generously be described as "functional," paired with a salad so sad it could star in its own soap opera. But you had something better: entertainment.

And by entertainment, you meant the literary dumpster fire currently sitting in your hands.

This book. This book.

The plot was so catastrophically terrible that it looped around to being hilarious. You chewed your subpar spaghetti and flipped a page, trying not to laugh too hard at the sheer absurdity of what you were reading.

The villainess, a talented duchess and renowned potion maker, was saddled with some of the worst clients in existence. The saintess—of course, she was a saintess, because originality was clearly out of the question—was engaged to the Duke of the North. Why? Who knows. It wasn’t like they seemed to like each other. In fact, she was also having a very public affair with the prince.

And not just any prince. A balding prince.

Because nothing screams “romantic rival” like the slow and tragic retreat of one’s hairline.

They were both the worst. The kind of people who would demand a 12-step skincare routine from their servants but would balk at paying them a living wage. When the villainess refused to make them more potions for ridiculous requests like “immunity to insults” (seriously?), they decided to frame her for crimes and have her executed.

The sheer audacity.

But it didn’t stop there. Oh no. The villainess had a fiancé—Jade Leech, poor guy—who tried his best to help her escape. And what did she do? Sacrificed herself so he wouldn’t get dragged into her mess. Noble, sure, but also infuriating because she died for them.

And then Jade, now heartbroken and understandably bitter, became the main antagonist. Only to be defeated by the same cartoonishly bland protagonists who caused the entire mess.

It was like someone handed a six-year-old a book contract and said, “Go wild, kid. Just make sure it has betrayal and love triangles, and throw in some magic potions or something.”

You forked another sad tangle of spaghetti into your mouth and tried not to choke from laughing at the sheer absurdity of it all. The characters had all the depth of a kiddie pool, the plot holes were big enough to drive a carriage through, and the pacing? What pacing? This story had clearly decided pacing was for cowards.

You flipped to another page, nearly snorting when the saintess justified her affair by saying, “It’s what the goddess would want."

Sure, Jan.

And just as you were about to take another bite of dinner, it happened.

A mushroom. A mushroom.

You didn’t even realize it had slipped into your spaghetti until it was already lodged in your throat. Panic set in as you clawed at your neck, gasping for air while your brain helpfully supplied one last thought:

Can’t believe a mushroom took me out. Goddammit.

And then everything went dark.

The first thing you notice is the carpet: thick, plush, and entirely too luxurious for someone who had been laughing themselves to death over garbage-tier literature just moments ago. The second thing you notice is that you’re alive, which is great. Except you’re no longer in your cozy little living room.

No, you’re in a gothic mansion straight out of an interior decorator's fever dream. Dark wood, brooding paintings, and vials of suspicious liquids lined up neatly on shelves. For a second, you think you’ve wandered into a Dracula fan convention, but then it hits you.

The novel. The Poisoned Duchess and the Frozen Heart of the North.

You scramble to your feet, heart pounding. “No. No, no, no, no,” you mutter, sprinting to the nearest mirror. A familiar (and obnoxiously beautiful) face stares back at you. Elegant curls, piercing eyes, and an expression that could curdle milk. Yep. You’re the Duchess—the villainess who gets executed for daring to have standards.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you groan, gripping the edge of the vanity. “I was just making fun of this! How did I end up here? Is this karma? Did the mushroom do this?!”

You spend a good ten minutes pacing the room, muttering to yourself like a squirrel with a caffeine problem. “Okay, okay, think. The Saintess and the Prince are nuts, and they’re gonna come here demanding potions for their ridiculous nonsense like ‘immunity to sarcasm’ or whatever. Solution? Close the shop. Sell it. Let some other poor soul deal with their unhinged requests. Genius! But what next? What about the fiancé—oh god, Jade!”

Jade Leech. The fiancé you had casually dismissed in your tirade against the novel. The one who was supposed to be self-sacrificing, and eventually doomed. But now he’s your fiancé, and you’re not about to let him become collateral damage in this flaming dumpster fire of a plot.

“We’ll run away!” you declare, pointing dramatically at an imaginary horizon. “We’ll elope, move to some peaceful countryside, grow tomatoes, and live a happy, Saintess-free life. Screw the plot. Screw the Duke. Screw the Saintess and her balding fiancé—”

You’re mid-sentence when the sound of a door opening interrupts your theatrical monologue. You spin around and freeze.

Standing in the doorway is Jade Leech himself. And oh boy, the novel did not do him justice. His sharp features, soft teal hair, and piercing eyes make your brain short-circuit. The man looks like he walked out of an ethereal fairy tale and promptly decided to make everyone else look like peasants.

He leans casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, and raises a brow. “Well, this is quite the scene to walk into.”

You blink. And then you blink again, because your brain is still stuck on handsome fiancé alert. “Uh…”

Jade smirks, clearly amused. “Is this a private performance, or can anyone join? Because I’m not sure who you’re planning to screw, but it sounds… ambitious.”

You want to die all over again. “I—uh, would you… like to join my plans?”

His eyes gleam with mischief. “Plans, you say? That depends. Do these plans involve anything more exciting than managing a potion shop?”

“Yes! So much more exciting!” you blurt out. “We close the shop, sell it, cause some chaos, run away, and live happily ever after far away from this stupid place! No Saintess. No Duke. Just… us. Tomatoes. Maybe a goat.”

Jade chuckles, the sound warm and entirely too pleasant for your frazzled state of mind. “You’ve certainly caught my interest. All right, I’m in. A little chaos sounds much better than… whatever normalcy is supposed to look like.”

He steps closer, and you swear your brain bluescreens again because wow, personal space doesn’t exist here, huh? Jade offers his hand, his smile sharp but oddly sincere. “So, where do we start, my prodigal Duchess?”

You take his hand, still half-dazed. “Step one: Screw the Saintess.”

He laughs again. “Now that’s the kind of plan I can get behind.”

Meeting Jade's brother was like getting hit by a rogue wave of chaos. You'd thought Jade was the wild card of the family, but then Floyd Leech burst into the room like a hurricane wearing a grin.

He looked at you with an intensity that made you feel like you were being appraised for your entertainment value, then immediately announced, "You wanna screw with the Saintess and the Duke? Oh, I’m in.”

You stared at him for a long moment, then at Jade, who gave you an apologetic shrug, clearly used to Floyd’s… energy. You decided, then and there, that you were extremely lucky to have been paired with the Leech brother who at least pretended to respect social norms.

Floyd, however, was a force of nature and, admittedly, a useful one. He seemed far too enthusiastic about the chaos you were planning, but hey, when life gives you a human typhoon, you use it to wreak havoc.

Then there was Azul Ashengrotto. Meeting him felt less like talking to a person and more like negotiating with an overly polite shark. “I can provide you protection,” he said smoothly, pushing a contract toward you with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You glanced at the contract, then back at him. “And what does this… "protection" demand in return?”

“Oh, nothing too demanding,” Azul said, waving his hand as if it was all very casual. “Just a few favors in return. Small things, really.”

You stared at the fine print and felt your soul start to sweat. This wasn’t just protection—it was a fast track to selling your soul to the fish mafia.

“Tell you what,” you said, shoving the contract back toward him. “I’ll sell the potion shop to you for cheap if you help me with whatever plans I come up with.”

Azul tilted his head, intrigued. “And what’s in it for me?”

“You get to own the best potion shop in the kingdom without dealing with the Saintess and her entourage of entitlement.”

His eyes gleamed. “Done. But if you get arrested, you won’t mention my name.”

“Deal,” you said, shaking his hand. Internally, you made a note to burn the shop down if things went south. Better a pile of ash than Azul owning it and your dignity.

The next day, you decided to drop by a boutique to prepare for the Saintess’s tea party. Not because you cared about the event, but because you cared very deeply about ruining her day.

You knew exactly what she was planning to wear—some pastel monstrosity—and you were determined to outshine her. You’d wear an upgraded version of her outfit, but classier, sharper, and absolutely dripping with pettiness.

The boutique owner was taking your measurements when you told them to send the bill to your butler. That was when Jade, who had been quietly browsing nearby, strolled over. He casually slid his arm around your waist, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and said, “Send the bill to me.”

You whipped around, scandalized. “Excuse me?!”

He leaned in, his mismatched eyes sparkling with mischief. “I just want everyone to know you’re my fiancée,” he murmured, his voice low and entirely too close to your ear.

Your brain promptly blue-screened. He was too close, his scent too distracting, and his hand on your waist was doing things to your equilibrium. The boutique owner pretended not to notice your obvious malfunction, but Jade? Jade looked like he was having the time of his life.

“Fine,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible as you tried to collect the scattered pieces of your dignity.

“Good,” Jade said, his smirk widening.

He didn’t let go of you after that. Oh no, he kept his hand firmly on the small of your back as you left the boutique. Every step was an exercise in not collapsing from the sheer audacity of his touch.

Meanwhile, Jade looked perfectly at ease, as if his sole purpose in life was to see how long it would take you to spontaneously combust.

By the time you got back to the mansion, you were sure of one thing: Jade Leech was going to be the death of you, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

The tea party was shaping up to be the highlight of your career as a petty agent of chaos. You arrived late, naturally—nothing screams “I’m better than you” quite like waltzing in when everyone’s already seated.

The moment you stepped into the pavilion, a collective gasp swept through the crowd. Your dress—custom-tailored, one-of-a-kind, and effortlessly overshadowing every other outfit there—practically glowed in the sunlight.

The Saintess, perched at the head of the table, turned to greet you, her expression instantly souring when she caught sight of your gown. Oh, you could practically hear the cogs in her head screeching to a halt as she realized you’d completely outdone her.

“Oh my,” you said, offering a demure smile as you made your way to your seat. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” she replied, her voice as sweet as arsenic. “What a… bold choice of dress.”

“Oh, this?” You gestured casually, as though you weren’t wearing something that could stop traffic. “My fiancé picked it out for me. He has such excellent taste, don’t you think?”

You didn’t need to look directly at her to see the way her jaw clenched. You could feel her rage simmering from across the table. After all, her own fiancé, or even the Balding Prince, hadn’t bothered to buy her a dress, let alone one that could compete with yours. You almost felt bad for her. Almost.

From there, the afternoon devolved into a series of increasingly petty power plays.

When the Saintess poured herself a cup of tea, you made a point to remark on how “rustic” her teapot was.

When she complimented the garden’s flowers, you chimed in with, “Oh, are these the same ones you tried to grow last year? I remember hearing how they all died!”

Every little comment was a carefully aimed dart, and she was too polite—or perhaps too afraid of snapping in public—to retaliate. The guests, of course, were eating it up.

The pièce de résistance came when the Balding Prince himself approached you during the party.

“I need a potion,” he said, puffing himself up like a rooster trying to assert dominance. “For my, uh, hair.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned. Of all the scenarios you’d envisioned, this was not one of them.

“Your hair?” you echoed, doing your best to keep a straight face. “What kind of potion are we talking about here? Growth? Volume? Shine?”

The Prince’s eye twitched. “That’s… none of your business,” he snapped.

Before you could respond, Jade—bless him—“accidentally” bumped into the Prince from behind, sending his ridiculous feathered hat tumbling to the ground.

The gasp that followed was deafening.

There it was, in all its glory: the shiny, blinding expanse of the Prince’s balding crown, gleaming like a beacon of despair in the afternoon sun.

For a moment, the pavilion was silent. Then someone coughed. Then someone else giggled. And before long, the entire tea party was a symphony of poorly stifled laughter.

“It’s, uh, a royal tradition!” the Prince stammered, clutching his hat and jamming it back onto his head. “A sign of wisdom and… and…”

He trailed off, clearly out of excuses, and fled the scene faster than you’d ever seen anyone run in formalwear.

The Saintess looked like she was about to implode. Unfortunately for her, the Third Male Lead (Yes, there were 3 of them) chose that exact moment to swoop in, all charm and wit as he began lavishing her with attention. You leaned back in your chair, sipping your tea and basking in the chaos like a cat who’d just knocked over an entire shelf of priceless antiques.

“Nice work,” you murmured to Jade, holding up your hand for a discreet high five.

Instead of obliging, he grabbed your hand and laced his fingers through yours, the smirk on his face practically criminal.

“You’re far more fun than I expected,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You stared at him, your brain immediately short-circuiting. Your default response to most situations was sarcasm or snark, but this? This was uncharted territory.

“Uh… thanks?” you managed, your voice coming out embarrassingly squeaky.

Jade chuckled, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand as if to emphasize just how flustered you were.

“Come on,” he said, his tone far too casual for someone who’d just ruined you in front of an audience. “Let’s go cause more trouble.”

He kept his hand on the small of your back as you walked away from the pavilion, and you were pretty sure your soul left your body every time he leaned in to whisper some biting comment about the Saintess or her rapidly expanding collection of admirers.

One thing was certain: you were having the time of your life, and this was only the beginning.

The day begins innocently enough, which should have been your first warning.

You’re peacefully reading in the library, enjoying the silence, when Floyd barrels in like a hurricane. “Oi, c’mon, you gotta help me!” he hisses, grabbing your wrist before you can protest.

“Help you with what?” you manage to ask as you’re dragged down the corridor, nearly tripping over your own feet.

“It’s Jade,” Floyd says ominously. “He’s made mushrooms again.”

Ah, that explains it. You’ve heard rumors about Jade’s culinary experiments, but you’d yet to experience them firsthand.

“And what does that have to do with me?”

Floyd grins, the kind of grin that promises nothing good. “Well, I told him you love mushrooms.”

You stop dead in your tracks. “You what?”

Before you can bolt, Floyd shoves you through the greenhouse door and slams it shut behind you.

Inside, the room is warm and humid, filled with the earthy scent of soil and plants. At the far end, Jade is bent over a terrarium, meticulously arranging its contents with tweezers.

He looks up when he hears you enter, his expression brightening. “Ah, you’re here!”

Your heart sinks.

Floyd’s words echo in your mind—you love mushrooms. If only he knew. Mushrooms were the reason you got isekai’d in the first place, and the trauma of choking on one is still fresh in your memory. But now, faced with Jade’s expectant gaze and a plate of what looks like sautéed mushrooms on the table, you realize you’re trapped.

“Floyd said you were eager to try these,” Jade says, his tone polite but unmistakably pleased.

You glance at the mushrooms, then back at Jade. He looks so hopeful, like someone who’s spent hours perfecting a recipe and is finally sharing it with someone who’ll appreciate it. You swallow hard.

“Of course!” you say, forcing a smile that feels more like a grimace. “I love mushrooms.”

You sit down at the table, and Jade places the plate in front of you. The mushrooms actually smell... good. Earthy and buttery, with a hint of garlic and herbs.

“Bon appétit,” he says, watching you intently.

You pick up a fork, your hands trembling slightly, and stab a piece. You can do this, you tell yourself. It’s not the mushroom’s fault you died. It’s just food.

With one final breath, you pop the piece into your mouth.

...It’s delicious.

The flavor is rich and savory, perfectly balanced, and the texture is tender without being mushy. You blink in surprise, then take another bite.

“Good?” Jade asks, and there’s a slight smugness in his tone.

“It’s amazing,” you admit, unable to stop yourself from eating more.

Jade’s smile widens, and something in his expression softens.

After finishing the plate, you linger in the greenhouse as Jade continues tending to his terrariums. You watch him work, his hands deft and precise as he rearranges moss, misting the plants with care.

“Need help with anything?” you ask, feeling unexpectedly at ease.

He glances at you, then gestures to a nearby shelf. “If you don’t mind organizing the vials, that would be helpful.”

You nod and get to work, sorting the various bottles of nutrients and spores while Jade hums softly under his breath. The atmosphere is peaceful, the kind of quiet that feels alive rather than stifling.

Once the terrariums are in perfect order, Jade brews a pot of tea, and you both sit at a small table nestled among the plants. The tea is fragrant, its warmth soothing as you take a sip.

Jade sits across from you, one hand resting lightly on the table. Absentmindedly, you reach out and place your hand over his.

He freezes for a moment, his eyes flicking to your joined hands. His usual calm demeanor falters, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “You’re quite bold,” he murmurs, though there’s a hint of nervousness in his voice.

You suppress a grin, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before turning your attention back to your tea. “And you’re holding my hand,” you point out casually.

“I suppose I am,” he says, his voice steady again, though his ears are noticeably red.

The two of you sit there for a while longer, sipping tea and enjoying the greenhouse’s serenity. Jade, ever the polite menace, pretends to be unfazed, but you catch him glancing at your joined hands more than once.

You smile into your cup, the taste of mushrooms and tea lingering on your tongue.

You wake up to the sound of maniacal laughter, the kind that belongs to either an evil overlord or someone who just discovered how to unlock infinite in-game currency. For one groggy moment, you wonder if the devil himself has come to collect you for your sins. But as your eyes flutter open, reality (and dread) sets in.

It’s not the devil. It’s Floyd.

“Why?” you croak, sitting up in your chair and rubbing your eyes. “Why are you like this?”

Jade, ever the epitome of composed chaos, is sitting calmly across from you, sipping tea and looking highly amused. “Ah, you’re awake,” he says with a smile that suggests nothing good is about to happen.

“I had the best idea!” Floyd exclaims, still cackling. “It’s gonna be hilarious!”

Jade gives you a knowing look, the kind that says, This is going to be a disaster, but I want to watch it unfold.

You should probably shut this down. You should. But instead, you wave a hand and mumble, “Sure, go wild.”

It turns out “wild” was underselling it.

Floyd’s “brilliant” idea? Convince the Saintess to organize a grand sword-fighting competition under the premise that the Balding Prince would absolutely win. To no one’s surprise (except maybe the Saintess), she fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

“She’s been gushing about how he’s ‘a natural-born warrior,’” Floyd reports gleefully during the planning phase. “She’s even betting on him!”

You glance at Jade, who is practically glowing with smug anticipation. That should have been your first clue to intervene. Instead, you shrug and think, Eh, it’ll be fine.

It was, in fact, not fine.

When the announcement of the tournament goes public, the Balding Prince—bless his fragile ego—realizes he has a slight problem. Namely, the fact that he’s never held a sword in his life, let alone used one. Naturally, he comes crawling to you.

“I need a potion,” he demands, his tone somewhere between entitled and desperate. “To, uh, enhance my… swordsmanship.”

You lean back in your chair, trying to look unimpressed. “Oh, I don’t sell potions anymore,” you say airily.

The Prince glares at you, his bald spot gleaming under the room’s chandelier. “I’ll pay you.”

“You can’t afford me.”

“How about enough gold to fund your entire territory for the next twenty years?”

You sit up straight. “You drive a hard bargain, Your Highness.”

The potion you make for him is top-notch—for two hours. After that, well, let’s just say it’s going to be a long day for the Balding Prince.

The tournament goes about as chaotically as you expect. Jade, a genuinely skilled swordsman, carves his way through every round with ease. The Prince, meanwhile, is barely holding on, relying entirely on the potion to scrape by. Somehow, by sheer luck and Floyd’s endless meddling, the Prince manages to make it to the final round.

By this point, the Saintess is practically glowing with excitement, convinced her fiancé is about to cement his status as a legendary warrior. “He’s going to win for sure!” she squeals, clapping her hands.

You sip your tea, barely suppressing your smirk. Oh, sweet summer child.

The final round begins with Jade and the Prince stepping into the arena. The crowd roars with anticipation. The Saintess is preening in the stands, while the Empress looks vaguely mortified, as though she knows what’s about to happen but can’t stop it.

And then, right on cue, the potion wears off.

The Prince’s stance falters immediately, his grip on the sword going from “warrior” to “child holding a bat for the first time.” Jade doesn’t even have to try. One expertly placed strike sends the Prince’s weapon flying across the arena, and the match ends with the Prince sprawled on the ground, dazed and defeated.

The crowd erupts into laughter, and you’re pretty sure you see the Emperor facepalm.

To add insult to injury, the Emperor himself has to present the winner’s diadem to Jade. But instead of wearing it himself, Jade turns to you with a wicked grin.

“For you, my dear,” he says, placing the diadem on your head with a flourish.

The crowd loses it.

The Empress looks like she’s contemplating disowning her son on the spot. The Saintess bursts into tears and flees the arena, with the Prince stumbling after her, trying to explain his humiliating defeat.

You, meanwhile, stand in the center of the chaos, smiling peacefully.

“This,” you murmur, “is the best day of my life.”

The market was lively, the kind of lively that felt one loose cart wheel away from utter chaos. You’d gone there to buy something mundane—perhaps herbs, maybe a decorative pot, who even remembered anymore? What you did remember was spotting Azul, impeccably dressed as usual, standing at a stall that sold ornamental quills.

“Azul!” you called out, dragging Jade with you as you made your way over.

Azul turned, one brow arching as he spotted the two of you. “Ah, the duchess and her ever-present shadow. What brings you here?”

“Just window shopping,” you said vaguely, though Jade’s sudden fascination with terrarium accessories suggested otherwise.

One thing led to another, and before you knew it, the three of you were headed to a charming little café. It had the kind of ambiance that said, I’m wildly overpriced, but look at our aesthetic! Jade held the door open for you, and you stepped inside, marveling at the array of desserts in the display case.

You barely had time to settle into your seat when the atmosphere shifted.

There she was.

The Saintess.

You tried to ignore her, truly, but her obnoxious aura was as subtle as a bull in a porcelain shop. She was seated nearby, flanked by her entourage of lackeys. They whispered, they giggled, and they kept looking at you. You rolled your eyes and leaned closer to Jade and Azul, focusing on your conversation.

But peace, as usual, was not in the cards.

One of the lackeys—a girl who had the smug look of someone who thought her two brain cells were revolutionary—approached your table. In her hands was a steaming cup of tea, and the moment you saw it, a sense of foreboding settled over you.

And then, with all the subtlety of a villain in a children’s cartoon, she “tripped.”

The tea flew through the air in slow motion, a graceful arc of impending disaster. You braced for impact, but Jade moved faster. He stepped in front of you, shielding you from the scalding liquid. Most of it missed him, but a splash landed on his hand.

“Jade!” you exclaimed, grabbing his arm to inspect the burn.

Meanwhile, the lackey straightened herself up, not even bothering to fake remorse. “Oops,” she said, her tone so insincere it could’ve curdled milk. “It was an accident.”

“An accident?” you repeated, your voice rising. “You carried a boiling cup of tea across the room, aimed it at our table, and ‘accidentally’ threw it at us?”

She shrugged, her smirk widening. “My dad will pay for any damages. And you’re overreacting. It’s just tea.”

Overreacting? Oh, you were about to react, all right.

Azul, meanwhile, was unusually quiet. His tie had been stained in the splash zone, and his tight-lipped smile was beginning to look like it could crack glass.

The lackey continued, oblivious to the metaphorical storm clouds gathering over Azul. “Anyway, if you keep making a scene, it’ll just look bad for you. My dad’s pretty important, you know.”

“Oh?” Azul said suddenly, his voice as smooth as silk but with an edge sharp enough to cut steel. “And who might your father be?”

The lackey puffed up with pride. “He’s the finance manager for the duchess’s estate!”

There was a beat of silence. You exchanged a glance with Azul, and then your lips curled into a predatory smile.

“Azul,” you said sweetly, “guess whose daddy is about to lose his job?”

The ride back to your estate was tense—for you, at least. Jade sat calmly beside you, his hand resting on his knee, but you couldn’t stop fussing over his burn.

“Stop squirming,” you said, dabbing at his hand with a damp cloth.

“I’m fine,” Jade insisted, though his amused tone suggested he was enjoying your concern far too much.

“You’re not fine,” you retorted. “What if it scars? What if it gets infected?”

“Then I’ll have a mark to remember your attention by,” he said, his lips twitching into a half-smile.

You glared at him, but your fussing didn’t stop. By the time you reached the estate, you were practically vibrating with righteous fury.

The finance manager stood in your office, visibly confused.

“You’re fired,” you said bluntly.

His jaw dropped. “What? Why?”

You crossed your arms, your smile as sharp as a blade. “Ask your daughter.”

“What does she have to do with this?” he demanded, his face turning red.

“Everything,” you replied. “Guards, escort him out.”

He sputtered and protested, but you didn’t care. Justice had been served.

Later, after the physician had checked Jade’s hand and declared him fine, you collapsed onto the nearest couch, your exhaustion finally catching up to you. Without thinking, you ended up sprawled across Jade’s lap.

He stiffened, his hands hovering awkwardly before he cautiously placed one on your back to keep you from sliding off.

“Comfortable?” he asked dryly, though the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed him.

You hummed in response, already half-asleep. Within moments, your breathing evened out, and you nodded off.

Jade, for his part, was thoroughly smitten. His usual composure cracked as he replayed the day’s events—your fiery anger on his behalf, the way you’d fretted over his injury, and now, the way you looked so peaceful resting against him.

His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, and he allowed himself a rare, genuine smile.

“Quite the enigma,” he murmured to himself, already planning how to keep you close.

The ballroom was a spectacle of opulence. Chandeliers glittered overhead, casting soft golden light on the polished floors and the parade of nobles in their finest silks and velvets.

This was supposed to be a night of grand announcements, of declarations of love, and of the start of some “epic romance” that would undoubtedly be inscribed into the annals of history—or, at least, that's what the original novel promised.

But as you stood to the side with Jade and Floyd, it was evident that this version of events was hurtling off the rails.

Enter: the Duke of the North.

The poor man barely stepped into the ballroom before his eyes landed on the prince and the saintess. You could physically see the will to live drain out of him as his shoulders slumped, his gaze unfocused like he was calculating the fastest way to fake his own death and disappear into the wilderness.

It was almost pitiful. Almost.

The prince, meanwhile, had puffed up his chest and was grinning like he hadn’t recently been humiliated in front of half the kingdom. And the saintess—oh, she was trying, bless her delusional heart.

Smiling demurely, batting her lashes, and putting on a performance that might have worked if her reputation hadn’t already been stomped into the dirt by your carefully orchestrated chaos.

You leaned toward Jade and whispered, “I think the Duke’s trying to plot his own escape.”

Jade’s lips twitched in amusement, but he kept his usual calm demeanor. Floyd, however, cackled loudly enough to draw a few stares.

Then, the moment arrived: the prince stepped forward, his cape swishing dramatically as he raised his goblet. “Tonight, I announce my bride-to-be, the one chosen by the heavens themselves—the saintess!”

There was a smattering of applause, mostly out of obligation, but you were too busy watching the Duke. The man visibly sagged with relief, his shoulders dropping like he’d just been unshackled from a lifetime of servitude. You could practically hear the mental thank the gods echoing in his head.

And then, as if shedding the weight of the world, he turned on his heel and made a beeline—toward you.

You blinked, momentarily stunned as the Duke of the North, the supposed male lead, bowed deeply and extended a hand toward you. “Would you honor me with the first dance, my lady?”

You opened your mouth to decline, because this wasn’t in any script you remembered, but before you could utter a word, Jade smoothly stepped in.

“Apologies, Duke,” he said with his signature polite menace, “but she already promised this dance to me.”

Without waiting for a response, Jade’s hand found the small of your back, and he gently yet firmly guided you to the dance floor. The Duke was left standing there, his hand still outstretched, looking mildly bewildered.

“Don’t worry!” Floyd piped up, appearing out of nowhere. “I’ll dance with you!”

Before the Duke could protest, Floyd latched onto his arm and practically dragged him into a lively—and utterly chaotic—dance that looked like a mix of a waltz and a sparring match. The Duke’s expression alternated between horror and resignation, while Floyd grinned like he was having the time of his life.

You couldn’t help it—you laughed, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably as you watched the scene.

Jade glanced down at you, his expression softening as he took in your laughter. His usual cool demeanor melted for just a moment, replaced by something so tender it made your heart stutter.

The realization hit you like a lightning bolt.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

You were in love with him.

And not the “oh, he’s handsome and I tolerate his presence” kind of love. This was the “I want to spend my life laughing and dancing and plotting petty revenge schemes with you” kind of love.

The thought was overwhelming, and before you could stop yourself, you buried your face in Jade’s chest.

He stilled for a moment, surprised, but then his arms encircled you, holding you close as he continued to sway to the rhythm of the music.

He didn’t question it, didn’t tease you, didn’t even comment. Instead, he rested his chin lightly on top of your head, his voice low as he murmured, “Are you all right?”

You nodded into his chest, your cheeks burning as you clung to him like a lifeline.

As the music swelled around you, you felt his hand tighten slightly on your waist. When you finally peeked up at him, his gaze met yours, and there it was again—that look of unguarded adoration that made your knees weak.

It was, without a doubt, the best dance of your life.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the ballroom, the Duke of the North was being spun around like a rag doll by Floyd, who was cackling loud enough to echo off the walls.

You caught sight of the saintess in the corner, her smile strained and her fingers clutching her goblet so tightly it looked like it might shatter.

All was well in the world.

The ballroom was buzzing with conversation, the glittering chandeliers casting light on a gathering of nobles too caught up in their own intrigues to notice the storm brewing in one corner. That is, until a sharp, shrill voice cut through the air.

“You think you can just ruin my family and get away with it?” It was the girl whose arrogance had gotten her father fired. Her finger pointed straight at you, her expression a mix of fury and desperation.

The ballroom stilled as the girl pointed her trembling finger at you, her voice shrill enough to shatter glass. "You think you can destroy my family and just walk away? You're nothing but a tyrant with too much power and zero empathy!"

Her father, standing nearby, was frantically gesturing for her to stop. “D-Dear, perhaps we should—”

“Shut it, Father! I’m handling this!” she snapped, tossing her poorly styled curls over her shoulder. She turned back to you, eyes blazing. “Everyone should know what kind of monster you are. Workplace harassment! That’s right—I said it!”

Before you could even process the absolute absurdity of the accusation, the Duke of the North stepped forward like some knight in an overwrought romance novel.

“You will not speak of her in such a way,” he declared, his voice booming with righteous indignation. “The duchess is a paragon of nobility and grace!”

The crowd collectively oohed, but before you could roll your eyes hard enough to dislocate something, the Saintess shot to her feet, looking utterly scandalized.

“This man,” she hissed, gesturing wildly at the Duke, “didn’t even fight for me, his divinely chosen match, but now he defends her? A woman who flaunts her defiance of heaven’s will? Blasphemy!”

“Blasphemy?” you muttered under your breath. “Blasphe-you, lady…”

Unfortunately, the Balding Prince chose this moment to stumble into the fray. “Uh… Are we…arguing?” He puffed up his chest, desperately trying to seem relevant. “As prince, I demand order!”

You took one look at him, with his shiny scalp gleaming under the chandeliers, and decided he wasn’t even worth the effort.

Meanwhile, Jade, ever the picture of composed menace, sidled up to your side. His eyes locked onto the Duke’s hand, which was still resting on yours. With a polite but firm gesture, Jade brushed the Duke’s hand away as though it carried the plague.

The Duke looked affronted. Jade just smiled. But it wasn’t a nice smile. It was the kind of smile that promised future inconvenience.

You, however, had officially hit your limit. You stepped forward, raising your voice over the din. “Enough!”

The room froze. All eyes turned to you as you launched into your tirade, starting with the Saintess.

“You!” You pointed directly at her, ignoring the way her cheeks flushed with outrage. “Do you honestly think the universe revolves around you just because you’ve got a shiny necklace and a tragic backstory? Newsflash: It doesn’t. The only divine will I’ve seen is everyone’s will to avoid your self-righteous sermons. Go back to your prayer circle and spare us your dramatics.”

Her mouth opened in shock, but you were already turning to the Balding Prince.

“And you! Stop sending letters to my estate asking for potions to grow hair or stretch your bones. I’m a duchess, not a miracle worker, and no amount of magic can make you interesting. Get a personality—or at least a hat.”

The prince turned beet red, his hands twitching as though debating whether to flee or argue. You didn’t care.

You swung your gaze to the girl whose father you’d fired. “And as for you, congratulations. You’ve just confirmed that stupidity really is hereditary. Your dad didn’t lose his job because of me. He lost it because he was stealing more money than the royal treasury had left after your little shopping sprees. You’re lucky I didn’t throw both of you in jail.”

Her father, now sweating through his cravat, looked like he might faint on the spot.

Finally, you turned to the Duke. “And you. I appreciate the effort, really. It’s sweet that you think I need defending. But I’m not a damsel in distress. I don’t need saving. And, oh—” You reached out, grabbing Jade by the arm. “I happen to have a fiancé whom I adore. So maybe put your chivalry elsewhere.”

Jade, for his part, looked smug as he allowed himself to be pulled along, his composure completely unshaken.

The ballroom fell into stunned silence as you swept toward the exit. Then—

Floyd’s laughter broke through like a cannon blast. He doubled over, clutching his stomach as tears streamed down his face. “Oh my god—that was amazing—! Balding prince—hat—”

Azul smirked, hiding his amusement behind a gloved hand. “Well, that was certainly… enlightening.”

You didn’t even look back as you pushed open the grand doors. “Idiots, the lot of them,” you muttered.

As you exited the ballroom, you couldn’t help but glance up at Jade. He looked unusually pleased, his lips curling into a faint, satisfied smile.

“What?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Nothing,” he said smoothly, though the twinkle in his eye said otherwise. “I simply find your methods... inspiring.”

The two of you made it past the grand doors before the realization hit you like a carriage with no brakes.

You had just declared, in front of everyone, that you loved Jade.

And he knew it. Oh, did he know it.

He walked beside you, his usual calm and collected demeanor now infused with an insufferable smugness. His smile was the kind that could sell snake oil to a herpetologist.

“Darling,” he said, his voice laced with honeyed amusement, “you’re unusually quiet. Cat got your tongue? Or perhaps you’re shy after your… heartfelt proclamation?”

You refused to meet his gaze. “Shut up,” you muttered, staring resolutely at the carpeted hallway like it held the secrets to the universe.

“Now, now,” he crooned, leaning closer. “Why won’t you look at me? Surely you wouldn’t deny me the honor of basking in the gaze of my beloved?”

Your face burned hotter than the ballroom chandeliers. You covered it with your hands. “Leave me here,” you said dramatically. “Leave me here to rot in peace.”

Jade chuckled, and it was the kind of sound that sent shivers down your spine—warm, teasing, and entirely too pleased. “Why on earth would I do that?” he asked, his tone deceptively innocent. “Especially when my beloved looks so… endearing in their embarrassment.”

You peeked through your fingers, ready to deliver some biting retort, but the words died in your throat.

Jade’s expression had shifted. He wasn’t just amused anymore—he was smitten. The way his mismatched eyes softened as they looked at you, the faint smile that carried more affection than smugness, the subtle tilt of his head like you were the most fascinating thing in the world—it was all too much.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you grumbled, your voice weak.

“Like what?” he asked, feigning ignorance as he gently reached for your hands.

You tried to resist, but he was insistent, pulling them away from your face with a tenderness that made your heart ache. Before you could think to stop him, he leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t just a teasing peck to rile you up—it was slow, deliberate, and completely disarming. You melted against him, any thoughts of resistance dissolving as you instinctively pulled him closer.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and slightly dazed, you couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—this book wasn’t the irredeemable mess you’d always thought it was.

After all, it had given you him.

The decision to expedite the wedding wasn’t exactly born of romance. It was born of the Duke’s increasingly deranged letters, the last of which included a poem so long and melodramatic it might as well have been a novel in verse.

Jade, to his credit, only raised a single brow at your muttered curses as you ripped the latest letter into confetti. “Darling,” he said mildly, “perhaps this is a sign to finalize our own arrangements before our dear Duke decides to recite his poetry at your doorstep.”

You had agreed, of course, which led to your current predicament: drowning in swatches, floral arrangements, and pamphlets for curtains—curtains, of all things.

“This one feels too garish,” you muttered, holding up a deep crimson drape. “But this one’s too boring,” you added, pointing at a pale beige option. You groaned and flopped back in your chair, glaring at the wedding planner. “Why is there no middle ground? What am I paying you for?”

The poor planner looked like he wanted to crawl under the table and never come out. Before you could unleash more frustration, Jade plucked the pamphlets from your hands with infuriating ease.

“Enough,” he said, his tone firm but fond. “You’ll give yourself gray hairs fretting over curtains. We can always elope, you know.”

You gaped at him. “Elope?”

His smile turned mischievous. “Yes. A quiet ceremony in the woods, perhaps, with only the birds as witnesses. Far from meddling Dukes and curtain debates.”

For a moment, you almost entertained the idea. But then you shook your head, laughing softly. “I suppose I’m being a bit dramatic.”

“A bit,” Jade echoed, though his teasing lilt softened as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. “You don’t have to do this alone, my love. Delegate.”

The wedding planner, who had been cowering behind a stack of color charts, practically lit up. “Oh, yes! Delegate! Please, delegate!”

You sighed, leaning into Jade’s touch. “Fine. You’re in charge now.”

The planner looked as though he might fall to his knees and kiss Jade’s shoes in gratitude. Jade, ever the picture of elegance, merely chuckled.

“Excellent choice,” he said smoothly, guiding you away from the table of chaos. “Now, let’s find something far more enjoyable to argue about—like the wedding cake flavors.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but marvel at how easily Jade managed to turn your stress into something almost enjoyable. Perhaps rushing the wedding wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

The room was an over-the-top vision of wealth: chandeliers the size of small planets, flowers flown in from who-knows-where, and a cake so tall you were half-convinced Floyd could climb it and look smug doing it. Every noble in the kingdom was here, decked out in silks and sequins, pretending they weren’t secretly gossiping about you and your eel fiancé.

You barely noticed. Jade was standing in front of you, looking so unfairly ethereal you wondered if the universe had been playing favorites. His mismatched eyes were locked on yours, and his smile was small but so genuine you almost forgot your carefully planned vows.

Then, of course, chaos. Because how could anything in your life go smoothly?

From the back of the ballroom came a loud, wet, obnoxious wail.

“Oh, for the love of God,” you muttered under your breath, and Jade’s lips quirked in amusement.

“I LOVED HER FIRST!” the Duke sobbed dramatically, his voice shaking with the intensity of his grief.

“Shut your mouth before I shut it permanently,” Floyd snapped, his voice cutting through the crowd like a knife.

And if that wasn’t enough, you could faintly hear Azul’s oily, persuasive tone somewhere off to the side. “Yes, Lord Evermore, just a tiny signature on this insignificant little contract. You’re not using your soul for much, anyway, are you?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, biting back a laugh. This wasn’t just a wedding—it was your wedding. Of course it was going to be chaotic.

But when you looked up, there was Jade, his gaze steady and full of a quiet devotion that made the rest of the madness blur into the background. His vows were perfect, as expected, and when it came your turn, you stumbled over the words a little, because how were you supposed to focus when he was looking at you like that?

Then came the kiss.

Jade dipped you in one smooth motion, his lips brushing yours with a tenderness that sent the room spinning. Applause erupted, and you swore you heard someone sniffling behind you.

“Is the Duke crying again?” you murmured against Jade’s lips.

“I believe Floyd threatened him,” Jade replied, far too amused.

“And Azul’s... oh no, is he signing contracts?”

Jade only smirked, kissing you again. “Should I be worried that you’re more interested in their antics than your new husband?”

“I’m not—wait, husband?” You blinked at him, the word sinking in, and for the first time in ages, you felt completely, blissfully happy.

As you stood there with your chaotic, ridiculous found family around you, you couldn’t help but smile. Sure, your life had taken a turn for the absurd, but if it brought you to this moment, maybe that cursed mushroom wasn’t so bad after all.

“Remind me to thank that mushroom,” you said with a grin.

Jade’s laughter was soft, warm, and entirely yours. “If it brought us together, I might build it a shrine.”

You laughed, pulling him closer. You’d faced chaos and conspiracies, chaos and hilarity, but in this moment, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

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[itsabouttimex2]

I was re-reading some of the Primal Moon stuff and I just kept thinking... If this is how badly everyone else gets affected, imagine how Chang'e gets during the Primal Moon!!!

Poor girl is probably losing her marbles up there, all by herself!!

Primal Moon Tier List

Actually… Chang’e is doing just about the same as canon! She’s a little lonely to be on her own, and a little worried for the world down below… but she’s managing!

For reference, here’s what I’ve workshopped for Primal Moon so far!

Humans and Celestials, if they have no animalistic features or demonic heritage, are unaffected by the creeping Viridescence, and are therefore free of any harmful effects of the lunar cycle. Which gives us a total of eleven characters (temporarily twelve with Seasons 1-3 MK) who are left the same in Primal Moon.

As for the others, with potential targets outside of Y/N listed in parentheses…

Sun Wukong is a monkey, c’mon. He; by the very nature of his species, needs company and affection. So what if he snatches up a darling cub (or two) from the streets and bundles them home as they kick and scream for help anticipate a week long stay with the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. He’ll dote and smother until you’re all worn out from begging for your freedom receiving his affection to tuck the both of you into bed, ready to spend a quarter of the month in a frenzy of familial love. (MK, Macaque, Ne Zha, Tang Sanzang, Ao Lie, Zhu Baije, Sha Wujing)

The Azure Lion has been burdened by primal want for family since his earliest days in the Celestial Realm, quite often being “given” a still-young Ne Zha to coddle, sitting for hours with the little deity in his lap, grooming his hair to perfection with a massive tongue. But that was centuries ago, and now he needs someone new to “parent”… most likely being Y/N. (Sun Wukong, Macaque, Peng, Yellowtusk, DBK, young Ne Zha, MK, Mei, Red Son)

Bereft of his lover, Kui Mulang devolves into a more merciful and someone brooding individual, sometimes refusing to devour souls even when the ones presented to him are choice selections. He mostly manages to compose himself, however- until a pup or kit is presented to him, at which point he slowly begins to mold them into the “perfect child” for him and his lovely Jade Maiden- and he’s sure that she’ll love Y/N as much as he does. (MK, Mei)

Arrogant as they may be, the Golden-Winged Peng is indeed still an avian, with powerful brooding instincts. They have some vested interest in little stragglers and chicks, souls who haven’t found their footing yet. If you have wings of some kind, expect lots of flying lessons and feather cleaning. For younger or smaller individuals, Peng will frequently perform brooding, though in a very gentle way- they’ll have you sit on their lap and then squish themselves all around you with feathery neck fluff and muscular arms and then their golden wings over all that to firmly ensnare you. (Macaque if he’s much younger than they are, Mei)

———————————————————————-

The Spider Queen isn’t usually interested in making heirs- she wants the throne all to herself for as long as she can have it… but if a charming and powerful individual were to wander into her sewers, maybe the lady wouldn’t red be able to deny herself an attempt at courting them? After all, a child of your blood and hers would be a magnificent creation (and weapon) indeed- although the means of birth would be by magic. She doesn’t have any interest in nine months of pain or suffering, after all. (Sun Wukong, Macaque, Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan, Scorpion Queen)

As always, our lonely Scorpion Queen longs for companionship in any form, be it partner or paramour. Expect her to try and hook up with the friendliest face she can find, often in the form of the sweet little mortals who go hiking past her lair in an attempt to separate from the wildness of the city. After all, maybe a little darling child would help ease her loneliness! (Tang, Pigsy)

Huntsman is out on the streets looking for a suitable partner, not necessarily for want of a lover so much as he wants his pick of the “superior” stock showing off their strength to lure in mates- the thought of having a child to pass on all his knowledge to doesn’t exactly deter the arachnid. However, he’d be content with “just” getting a lifelong sparring partner out of it.

———————————————————————-

After the death of his beloved son, Ao Guang goes from “almost unaffected” by the rising moon to borderline delusional. He usually stays locked up tight inside his chambers, away from anyone who he might “confuse” with his departed Ao Bing. If one seems to be young in either appearance or behavior, he’s not unlikely to snatch them up and spirit them away to his chambers for a week of grief-fueled doting. If one outright looks similar to the dragon prince, expect him to treat them as a reincarnation or descendant. (Mei, Ao Lie)

Ao Lie tries to step up and take care of those around him, but tends to stumble and fail along the way as his mind deteriorates. There’s some bass understanding of the world (eg: fire burns, raw meat sickens, clothes keep you warmth) but a lot of the finer details are lost on him. Still, he just wants to help! If his target/targets outright reject this behavior/try to run, Lie will assume draconic form and wrap them all up in his massive green coils. (Mei, Sun Wukong, Tang Sanzang, Zhu Bajie, Sha Wujing)

If anyone is “losing it” mentally, Xiangliu probably shows it the clearest. There are moments of blatant hysteria as he screams about “monsters” and “chaos” and “caves”, pounding cracks into the tiles beneath his feet and etching his feelings across the walls of any residence- and then he’s horribly silent and withdrawn, each little snake on his head leering and limp. It’s hard to tell what he actually wants, given that he’ll never communicate outside of hysterical shrieking and wanton destruction. (Sun Wukong)

———————————————————————-

Macaque’s most blatant changes are internal, the Viridescence stripping his inner inhibitions away- unlike Red Son below, this doesn’t manifest in tears or desperate pleas for love, but a wide spur of self-injurious behavior that displays itself in many forms- often trending towards stereotypies such as overeating, scratching away skin, and picking out clumps of hair. For “his own good”, Macaque tends to be the victim of other demons during the moon’s rising.

Twice a year Red Son makes himself a promise- “This time I won’t break,” he says to himself, working through a dozen new techniques and tactics to try and prevent himself from cracking and falling apart in a messy puddle of tears… all of which fail in a tidy little row, leaving poor Red Boy to weep into the lap of whoever his mother has kidnapped to tend to him… he’s actually mostly in his right mind, just incapable of biting back his tongue or tears, allowing potential romance to bloom as the verdant moon rises. (MK, Mei)

As for Mei, she’s… well, an entirely different person in Primal Moon. She’s spent so very long being taught to constantly repress herself in order to keep others from harm and agony, which the poor girl always has on her mind, no matter the day or circumstance. She’s quieter, clumsier, lonelier. She speeds on busy roads, plays with lighters, trauma-dumps to her followers… deep down, Mei believes that her inevitable fate is to be a monster. At some point this belief leads her true nature to unlock under the power of the Viridescence, causing Mei to transform into a dragon and start hoarding “treasure”… often in the form of her dearest friends/romantic interests. (MK, Red Son)

———————————————————————-

Like I’ve gone over before, MK grows extremely unstable after spending years perfectly suppressing his demonic heritage- like a spring wound too tight, he just snaps. He’s one of the few that grows legitimately violent with any “darling” he might have, forcing them to become troop-mates. He willingly falls under the command of Sun Wukong, who has become equally delusional. It’s not impossible for them to build a “troop” made entirely out of kidnapped friends and family. (Mei, Red Son, Macaque)

Though the Demon Bull King’s behavior towards his wife alone would put him halfway in the “looking for a mate” category, his behavior towards everyone else (minus Red Son) is extremely violent to the point of essentially returning to his former warlord days- and unlike many others on this list, doesn’t even bother to fight his desires. He’s just... letting go. And everyone else is left to suffer for it. The only way he ends up with a new “family member” is if he either talks Iron Fan into a new child, or she kidnaps a mortal herself to take care of Red Son.

Sha Wujing just... regresses. Back to his bone pit, to constant fighting, to streams of blood flooding his lonely river. Back to before the monk and his dear brothers. Everything just... smears to a splash of bright red and he settles for grinding anything he finds “upsetting”. Most of this is born of blind fear and repressed sorrow, so Wukong (if he’s holding himself together) is usually sent to bear Wujing’s mighty swings one after the the other as he moves in for a hug. Once the big blue giant has cooled off and come to his senses, he’s utterly overwhelmed with guilt at the sight of all Wukong’s bruises and cuts, and spends the next week taking care of him like a little brother.

———————————————————————-

As a goddess from time immemorial, Nüwa is… a little “out of touch“ when it comes to interacting with mortals. You can’t spend a handful of forevers hiding away and come out of it with stunning social skills, after all. She’s not exactly skillfully soft, but doesn’t see the need to be horribly cruel or vicious with. When the lunar haze from above softens her inhibitions, Nüwa turns to undermining the agency of her ward, subtly working to convince them that she- and she alone- can tend to their needs. (MK)

In his current state, Sandy really is the most “harmless” a yandere can be, settling for only the very occasional drugging to keep you complacent and docile while the musclebound monster man pampers you through the settling haze. The only thing changed by the Primal Moon’s impact is that Sandy becomes much more willing to verbally strike down the notion of independence by guilt-tripping you into staying “to keep him calm” as he wraps your smaller form in thick fleece blankets and pours another cup of tea with a strange layer of film on the top. (Pigsy)

Goliath doesn’t mind the viridescence too much, all things considered- more than ever during the event so people want to fight, so he’s never too busy “thinking” or “planning”- he’ll just pummel down any threat to his Queen and drag the body off to be converted into a fellow spider demon. The only real difference is that he’s not afraid to drag you out to bear witness to the growing violence and danger bred under the verdant lunar light, and then force you to patch his wounds as a show of the “affection” he expects you to have.

Already something of a troublemaker, Zhu Bajie mostly remains his old self during the semi-annual event, knowing which cards to play to get the Great Monk to do as he pleases, often to either his own or Sun Wukong’s detriment. Now he’ll direct that worsening (and at times downright malicious) manipulative behavior to you, trying to second-handedly browbeat you into submission. It’s not even that Bajie understands why- the moon just fucks his brain up so bad that he doesn’t bother pushing back against the notion that you should suffer for his own amusement.

———————————————————————-

Throughout many centuries, Yellowtusk has trained long and hard to repress the worst of his instincts, to utterly astounding success. When not working with his sworn brothers, the pachyderm demon is traveling about to aid little mortals in need, though his brain is just fogged enough to disregard basic autonomy and personal boundaries. The big guy ends up pretty “hands-on” as a result, often holding and moving about mortals like dolls.

Given that he was an actual human to start with, Syntax works the opposite of MK- he’s not just “not repressing” the moon, it simply has no impact on him. Then upon his baleful transformation, Syntax just… isn’t all that different. You can change a body, but not the soul beneath it. He’s still a person, deep down.

Mr. and Mrs. Dragon have put themselves under the same rigorous training that they ensured Mei underwent, leaving them mostly untouched by any form of enthralling bestial behavior, both rather rational and composed. Still, they aren’t exactly above snatching up maybe a new worker -cook or maid or cleaner- from a lower class to “dote on” through the week- and if that individual is young enough they may well pursue adoption when the haze lifts.

[kimquatz]

Hi Kimbo! Atacus and Hafora are my fave of ur OCs, they live rent free in my mind >=] Can you tell us about Hafora Anfeng? 10 and 19 on the Ask Meme please

Send me an OC name and a number to ask!

Thank you for enjoying them as much as i do! 🥺🫶 And ty for asking for Hafora, they're one of the more underrated of my OCs LOL

10. What is their main character arc in the story? Where do they start and how do they develop? Do they get a happy ending or is their story a tragic one?

Since Hafora is one of the more minor characters present in the jadebloods' story, her arc is a bit more subtle and still a WIP! She, like the other jades (Lanque and Bronya), is also trying to cope with the grief and loss of someone they deeply cared for. Where the main story begins, she's very closed off. After Atacus' death being 'punished' by the Empire, it scared her into never opening up and unable to embrace herself as an individual. She was already quite reserved, and Atacus was one of the few people she could confide in, to feel comfortable with herself, and have a hope for the future. But, with them gone, it was like a grim reminder of Alternia's cruelty towards kindness and individuality in this world.

Hafora is only relevant in their way past though, and is already off-planet by the time the story technically "starts." I like to imagine either Lanque or Bronya would run into her again off-planet! They were only kids since they last saw her, and it would be nice to see them reconvene when they're older to talk about their feelings on the past. 🤔 Whether she gets a "happy" or "tragic" ending is yet to be determined, but i'm inclined to think it will be a very slow progression of learning to overcome her fears.

19. What is your general favourite thing about the character? What is your least favourite?

One of the many things I'm fond about about Hafora's character is that she's very reminiscent of what it feels like to be a closeted dfab individual growing up in a severely strict asian household (the brooding caverns lol). There's expectations on you; who you have to be, who you're growing up to be, how to act, etc. Even when you know deep down you don't want to, you put it all aside because of the fear of disappointing and/or failure. Of course, It's not a complete 1-to-1, but it definitely draws from a lot from those feelings and experiences that i feel sentimental towards them. My least favorite thing about them is how stubborn they are LOL. Though, not that i hate that about them, it's just a result of the life they've lived. More like I just want them to learn to be happy and free, and it makes me sad that they keep holding themselves back for so long v_v

[thefirstknife]

I can’t help but feel like savathuns about to go down a familiar road as we did, but won’t get the same ending. Shes emotional, angry, had the sibling she had a chance to save ripped from her hands. She’s going to want revenge, and I think it might be the last thing she seeks.

she’s already made it clear she wants that, she’s already scheming again. But her brood is her own, cunning, wise, smart enough to know when to jump ship. Luzaku already dipped, she knew staying by sav’s side wasn’t worth it. And when the rest wise up? See their leader is sending them to die for some “revenge” for a dead family member they don’t know? Seeing her let her emotions take reign and send them into a battle they otherwise wouldn’t want? I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a call for new leadership.

would she die from this? I doubt it. She no doubt has plans for betrayal, I wouldn’t put it past her. However, shed no doubly be left without an alley at her side. I think it’d be ironic, wouldn’t it? Savathun, the hive god who wanted to break away from the “game” as she called it, got what she wanted, to not be involved in the grand scheme of things. What did it cost her? Everything… the hive god who wanted to be just “left alone” gets exactly what she craves… not a single person at her side, and not a soul to care for her.

I personally don't think she wanted to save Oryx, especially not that version of him, which was pretty much set in his ways and not entirely true to the Oryx she knew. Especially after she tried to reason with him and offered him the Light and it angered him greatly. I think that really got to her and it was probably the most honest and real she ever was, but Oryx's rejection of it made her more jaded. It was a chance, but he refused it and it's not even the Oryx she knew: the Echo was just a twisted memory of him. But I think that what she's mostly angry with us about is that we destroyed a powerful artifact that she could've used for herself in whatever way she wanted to.

Savathun's feelings about her family are complicated and she definitely feels something for them, but it's always on some condition and the level of usefulness they have for her. Savathun loves her siblings and her family, but she loves herself the most. She did not care when we killed the actual Oryx, or any of his children, or any of her children, nor does she care about a daughter she left in a time loop to infinitely die over and over.

I also think that she will be left alone with nobody at her side and nobody to care for her. And I can't find it in me to feel sorry for her. She rejected every single option to be reached and to change and to do better. Her whole angry speech was entirely hollow to me. Her telling us that we crossed a line? Her calling us "the Traveler's pet"?

This is, btw, incredible for me narratively, Savathun is SUCH a good character, genuinely one of the best characters in the whole story. Her hypocrisy and manipulation and the ways she affected the universe are peak. But I think that at the end of the day, she can't keep getting away with it, so to speak. After all that in the finale, I am really hoping that one day she will be dealt with like everybody else who thrived on destruction, atrocities and suffering of others. Unless, of course, she decides she's had enough of that and finally embraces the second chance she got.

And all of this is what makes her probably the most compelling character in the whole franchise. I really do want to see unhinged Savathun from now on, and also how she'll deal with Xivu and how Xivu will deal with her.

[legallypunkin]

Here’s my rendition of the Homestuck kids as trolls. I used preexisting canon (or postcanon) trollsona sprites as a jumping off point, though for some I couldn’t.

(Here’s the trolls as kids!!)

Design explanations will be under the cut.

Jake English: I chose to make Jake burgundy due to the Hiveswap description. I personally am not too much of a fan of these descriptions, as they really only apply to the main twelve trolls, if even that, but I was otherwise lost on Jake. His socks are indigo to reference the Alternian idea of wearing the blood color of someone you share a quadrant with, especially as a lowblood, to signify that you shouldn't be messed with. His horns are taken from Calliope's trollsona, as Jake is the closest relative to Lord English, and there's probably some symbolism there. As for the name "Jaking Enlish", I simply scrambled his original name a bit to make it fit the 6x6 naming conventions.

Dave Strider: I chose to make Dave gold due to his early shown proficiencies with tech. The horns are taken from his canon trollsona, and them having two starting points before merging into a single horn at the tip is similar to that of a few background Hiveswap trolls. His name is a reference to Davesprite, being a crow.

Roxy Lalonde: She is very connected to cats, even down to her human symbol, so who am I to get rid of that connection? Her horns are meant to look both like cat ears as well as hearts, and her hair was reshaped a bit for a spikier appearance. Her dress is her party dress, and, as seen in Jake's trollsona, Roxy too wears the blood color of someone she is in quadrants with. Her name isn't too much of a change.

Jade Harley: I made Jade jade because I thought it was funny, that is literally it. Her original trollsona was pretty good, and I replaced her god tier fit with a sort of horrid amalgamation of some other fits. Now that we've seen Fiamet with a tail, I figured I could give Jade one as well as ears, and I figure her working in the brooding caverns gives her a much lower likelihood of early culling. She also does breed the frogs, so that's got to be worth something. Her shoes are red because red seems to be one color which numerous trolls of all castes accessorize with, and her name is a combination of - you guessed it - the words "Jade" and "pup", with her last name remaining the same.

John Egbert: John gets to be a tealblood almost entirely due to his father. He's an unassuming guy from the suburbs who does menial officework. This also seems to be the fate of many tealbloods, so boom. Teal John. His horns are similar to those of Xefros, as, again, unassuming protagonist guy. I did give him sharper teeth, though, as burgundy bloods are the only caste with dull teeth, and I also fixed up his hair a bit. His name comes from a combination of "John" and "June" because I am a fan of both, and again, his last name remains the same.

Dirk Strider: The ties between Dirk and Equius are unavoidable, of course Dirk is going to be indigo. His horn is taken from his trollsona. His name is just "Dirk" but fancier and longer.

Rose Lalonde: Violet because of the horrorterrors. Took her original trollsona and gave it piercings because she's simply too goth not to. I also changed up her original dress a bit, made it more vibrant and closer to violet. Her name follows Roxy's pattern, but now with a closed consonant to end it off.

Jane Crocker: If you didn't think I was going to make her fuschia, you don't understand the depths of my autism. Her entire family line is fuschia, what other color COULD I make her?? Her trollsona is so baked into her appearance here, alongside her crockertier form. Still, Jane is butch in my heart of hearts, so she got to wear a suit instead of a dress (taken from Dave's sprites) and her pair of shorts and slippers(?). Her name is taken from her friend's nickname for her, "Janey".

[thewertsearch]

One can make either true statements or false statements about reality. All of the statements I make are true.

One can make true or false statements about reality, but those aren’t the only options. ‘This sentence is false’ and 'lies are not funny' are examples of statements which are neither.

You proceeded to question me believing you understood the purpose of the Scratch. You received your information about it from trolls. I assure you that in most ways, the trolls are as confused about everything as you are.

Confused she may have been, but Aradia got her Scratch lore from Sburb's own NPCs. Doc's plans run deep, but he can't have been manipulating every Consort on LOQAM.

Maybe the Sburb NPCs she was talking to are simply mistaken in their understanding of the Scratch. It might be a phenomenon which looks like a spacetime rift, but functions completely differently.

TT: What exactly does the Scratch do, then? It resets the game.

It resets the game.

...like, completely? Are we going to Groundhog Day right back to John's original entry, with all our memories intact? I have no idea what that'd mean for the trolls, interwoven as they are into the kids' session - but either way, the possibility of a full reset for John & co. is amazing news.

It would be fascinating to see the kids taking another shot at Sburb, armed with all their accumulated knowledge. They'd be starting from a much better position, and we could sidestep mistakes like Jack's ascension before they happen. We'd be seeing new prototypings, new alchemy, and potentially more God Tier ascensions. Terezi did say that Dave was only locked out of God Tier before the Scratch, and I think I'm beginning to understand what she means. A lot of possibilities we've long since given up on have just been placed back on the table.

The elephant in the room, of course, is the Alpha Timeline. Changing the past should doom us all, so what's our loophole? I guess we could just transport the Players to a freshly generated session, without any time travel - but I personally don't think that's what's happening here. The Scratch is Time-themed for a reason.

TT: We all start from the beginning again? When John entered? No.

...oh.

Welp, that's another theory that didn't survive the brooding caverns.

The release of temporal energy will be quite massive. This is a hard reset. It will reboot the conditions in your universe well before you began playing the game. You will have lived different lives after the reset. The different initial conditions will ideally lead to a more favourable scenario in the new session.

I guess Scratch has a point. The kids' prior lives were heavily influenced by events in their session. Hell, Jade killed her Grandpa with a gun that wouldn't even exist if John's Veil trip had gone differently. Even the Frog Tem-

...oh, no.

Even Bec could be Scratched.

Now. If I'm an omniscient, malevolent First Guardian, and I'm making some edits to a universe, what's the most effective change I could make? What's the best way to ensure that it serves my purposes?

Well, it would be pretty useful if I were in the universe, shaping it as I did Alternia - but my impending death might put a damper on that plan.

Alright, then. If I can't the the one to shape this universe, the next best thing would be an entity of comparable power - one who is as loyal to my master as I am.

And I know exactly how to make that happen.

Even Bec could be Scratched.

Literally.

[hs-transfusion]

> FEFERI PEIXES

HEMO: Jade (#078446) TROLLTAG: compassiveCullture [CC] SIGN: Virpis, Sign of the Nurturing STRIFE: ribbonkind MODUS: Rhyme LUNAR SWAY: Prospit MYTH. ROLE: Maid of Hope LAND: Land of Bells and Ribbons

CC: * You’re gonna be a total *STAR*, I just know it!!!

Of all the jadebloods in the BROODING CAVERNS, Feferi is by far one of the highest achievers when it comes to CARING FOR THE YOUNG. While she'd love basking in the HARSH ALTERNIAN SUN, she instead devotes herself to DOTING ON THE YOUNG, and otherwise holding what little position of AUTHORITY she can over the other jades in her cluster. Her RADIANT SMILE makes it very hard for other people to admit that she perhaps ENJOYS BOSSING PEOPLE AROUND a little too much.

Unbeknownst to others, when looking after grubs, she attempts to SECRETLY IMPLANT THE IDEA of a more COMPASSIONATE SOCIETY where culling doesn't refer to thinning the herd. In her downtime (of which she has very little), she also enjoys both DANCING AND SINGING, dreaming of either becoming an HONORARY EMPRESS, or, more reasonably, an INTERNET INFLUENCER.

Feferi's RHYME Fetch Modus requires her to produce a VALID RHYME for an item she wants to retrieve. The catch is, rhymes CANNOT BE RE-USED. They can, however, simply be made longer by appending UNRELATED WORDS to the start of them (i.e. to retrieve a PLACEMAT, she could rhyme RACERAT, and then BIGGER RACERAT, then GREEN RACERAT, th).

Feferi's lusus is classified as the MATER NATURAE; a virgin mother grub -- highly unusual for its species, it has ABDICATED FROM BROODING and has instead taken Feferi as its charge. This unspoken-of and almost SCANDALOUS happenstance has inspired Feferi's REBELLIOUS ASPIRATIONS.

The LAND OF BELLS AND RIBBONS is a bright, cheery planet, perfect for Feferi. Its crowning monument is a GIANT, RUSTED BELL that has been worn down from EONS OF MISUSE, just begging to be given a good clean and a LOUD RING. Perhaps that would awaken the sour ABRAXAS...

Feferi's ancestor is known as DIRECTOR IRONHEEL. She was essentially the JADEBLOOD PRINCIPAL, maintaining order over her CLUSTERMATES and ensuring a STRICT CURRICULUM for all future hatched trolls.

[highhhfiveee]

mikey and his sunshine gf. need i say more

wc: 2.3k tags: sweetgf!reader +dickheadbf!mike, fluff, one moment of suggestiveness, mike curves his fuck buddy for the love of his life ♡ errors bc even though i proofread, i’ve been so fucking tired blegh a/n: i haven't written much fluff about sweetgf!reader and dickheadbf!mike, but once again, i feel like this is them!

sweetgf is super sweet to mike, and i know it may seem like you just love breaking him down and making him whiny and desperate for you, but you would literally grab earth in both hands and give it to him if that's what he wanted. 

you'd been in lots of relationships where you'd gotten fully invested, pouring herself in (foolishly and) wholeheartedly. they all ended with you in tears, disheartened and jaded with humanity. after your last relationship burst into flames over you asking for just one bouquet of flowers for your birthday, you'd never wanted to be with someone ever again.

that is, until mike.

you'd first seen him with a tiny, well-endowed blonde girl, standing in line for a comically expensive beer at a nearly saturday concert. they were one of your favorite bands, and something about seeing him there, sexy and brooding and taking up so much space in the crowded drinks line, fascinated you. he looked bored beyond comprehension, eyes shadowy under the dim overhead lights and arms crossed over his chest as his friend dashed up to the booth when it was their turn, her body wracked with the movement of conversation. 

he'd stayed back from her, a feet or so of space between them as she ordered, holding up a peace sign to signal two beers and flashing her ID. the vendor had to have said something off-putting, because mike rolled his eyes, a deep scowl set into his face as his friend was handed the beers, looking off into the distance. 

he'd caught your stare. you swore at yourself because how embarrassing was it for him to catch you like that? redness blossomed over your features, but you still couldn’t look away. you two maintained eye contact for a bit, just staringuntil a smirk creeped onto mike’s face. it was so small from where you were, but it still shined on you like a million suns. you returned his action with your own grin, all teeth and embarrassment, sheepishly looking down to the ground before your friend pulled on your forearm. you’d forgotten you were standing in the merch line with her, frozen where you’d stood.

“c’mon y/n! we gotta get our merch so we can get to our seats before they start!” 

you two were up in the mezzanine, front row seats protected by metal railings. you were almost at the end of the row, two seats left beside you, and you wondered if anyone would sit there. the concert hall had started to fill up more post opener, and you felt the jitters of seeing your idols living and breathing in front of you creeping around under your skin. 

you’d decided to put your merch on, sliding your arms and head through the respective holes. you met mike's smirk again when you'd finished, all of the moisture leaving your mouth. he was sitting in the seat beside you, his friend in the one at the very end. they both had their large beer mugs in hand, and you couldn't stop thinking about how mike could hold the monstrosity with just one, noticing that his friend needed both of her dainty ones. condensation trickled over his fingers.

the friend looked over at you with wide, friendly eyes, pointing at your shirt with a gasp.

"oh em jee, that shirt is so cute! i didn't even get a chance to look at the merch, the line was so long and i didn't want to miss the beginning of the show. how much was it?" she talked so quickly, not a single mistake made.

"$40," you mumbled, choking on your answer as you tried to shift your eyes away from mike. he'd begun sliding down in the seat, manspreading his legs. his knee grazed yours ever so slightly, and you worked hard to maintain your poker face. "uh, $40," you tried again after clearing your throat. 

"sick! hopefully there are some after the show. thanks," the girl smiled at you, sugary and beaming with pink lipgloss, before leaning towards mike's ear and whispering something to him. 

she'd giggled after, placing a hand on his thigh and a kiss on his cheek, and you'd concluded that she had to be his girlfriend, or at least someone he was seeing. it was disrespectful of you to keep staring at him, wondering how his hands would feel traversing every inch of your body. you finally wrenched your eyes away from him, focused on the stage. 

once the show had started, everyone was on their feet except for mike, and maybe a few other people that felt the same way he did. he was watching with indifferent eyes, leisurely downing his beer. there was a better show right next to him; you, or rather your ass, in his face, shimmying around to the up-tempo pop punk. claudia, his date-fuckbuddy-whatever the hell, had tried so many times to get him to stand up, but he didn't budge. 

he hated this kind of music honestly, but watching you having the time of your life, singing along to every lyric and note change, made him want to enjoy it with you. for you. you looked so happy, so lively, shouting words at your friend's face and bouncing along to amplified rhythms. your aura was so bright, and something about it made mike's chilly heart defrost.

after the band had done their "last" song, he'd whispered into claudia's ear for another beer. she'd bought his first one even though he'd offered to pay, and he decided that he would let her be as generous as she wanted to be. mike saw it as compensation, considering that fact that he'd had only come because she needed a ride. 

she'd nodded enthusiastically, taking off after giving mike another kiss on the cheek.

he turned to you then, reaching up to poke at your shoulder. you glanced back at him, grinning shyly. "you caught me staring at you before the show. quite the coincidence that you and your girlfriend had seats next to us." 

he shook his head, saying, "claud's not my girl, and yeah, i did catch you. no coincidence though. these were the seats on her tickets." he'd left off the part of the story where he'd seen you as he walked down the stairs of the mezzanine, asking claudia to switch seats because he "hated" sitting on the end. 

his smile beamed through the darkness of the hall, adding to the brightness around you once the lights onstage came up once more. they don't make you turn away from him, and you were staring at each other again. he stood to his feet finally, pulling his phone from his pocket and shoving it your way. "here. give me your number and we can talk more about it later."

you took his phone into your hands dumbfoundedly, typing out your number as the first chords of the encore song vibrated around you. you'd filled out your contact, adding two eye emojis to your name, before giving mike his phone back with another shy smile. "yeah. i'd like that." 

he danced with you for the final two songs. he didn’t think he'd ever had this much fun with someone other than abby.

claudia had run down the stairs after the house lights came back on, holding the new beer mugs to her chest. the moisture made her shirt cling to her boobs, and you could see all the eyes around that trained on her. 

"beer for you," she mused, trying to hand it over, but mike raised his hand, declining. "it's okay. didn't want it after all." 

claudia frowned, looking around at the masses of people moving out of the venue. "but mikeyyyyyyyyy, i missed the encore for it!" you shouldn't have liked that he sent her away so that he could enjoy the rest of the concert with you, but it ignited this feeling in you that you couldn't get rid of, warm and fuzzy in your heart and in your core,

"i'll pay you back," mike spat, unaware of your friend tugging at your arm again so that you two could leave and beat the traffic outside. you gave him a wave and a smile as you were hastily whisked up the stairs, and he'd winked back, a tiny, almost undetectable action.

mike was never one to text back on the same day he'd gotten a number. "later" was an ambiguous time to him, but this time, he felt compelled to send you a message once he'd dropped claudia off and let her down gently, a simple, "i just don't think we're compatible." he'd expected claudia to shrug it off, but instead, she screamed, cried, begged for mike not to reject her. it was sad to him, but confusing as well. they'd never ever been together, meeting on an app strictly for hookups. 

"mike, please. i really like you. i want to be with you." how the two of you had gone from casual fucking to her thinking she was in love, mike didn't know, but he just blurted out a fake remorseful, "sorry" before pulling away from her house. 

he didn't want to sit around wasting time. he had someone to text. 

the rest was history, really.

you'd expected mike to be an asshole through and through. he was aloof in this way that you didn't think you liked, and he'd reminded you of so many people you'd been with before, acting like caring about someone with your whole being (or at least some of it) was a waste of energy and time, but he'd proved you wrong.

you'd told him about your relationship past, and he decided that he needed to change everything for you. he took you on consistent dates, rotating between your choices and his, listened to you talk about everything and nothing, carried you on his back whenever you wanted, genuinely comforted you when you cried; he even woke you up on your birthday with breakfast and a bouquet of flowers, adding an extra flower for every year.

he was a dickhead sometimes, ignoring you or giving you his pitiful, patronizing eyes when you said something flighty or annoying you with his childish gripes when he was irritated, but you always softened him up, smiling or laughing or eyelash fluttering your way into making him relax, making him sigh and nuzzle into you. he loved hugging you tight, feeling your energy through your skin, rocking you and your pastel dresses back and forth.

you were so brilliant, shining so brightly on him that he couldn't help but cave in. mike loved giving himself to you, servicing you in any and every way; you never went unsatisfied with him. 

it doesn't take much for him to do anything for you, wanting to show you he cares, that he loves you. you were a delicate thing in his eyes, so perfect and celestial, a literal angel sent from heaven to be his. you and your gentle, loving eyes and soft, soothing caresses. you felt the same way, so deeply enamored with him in every way. he'd taught you so many things, so many things about yourself and your body, so many things you would only give to him. submission was shared between you, making you both soft for each other. 

you couldn't believe that you two had made it this far, a few years in and still going strong, though mike had never really gotten better at fully communicating when he's upset. he tries his best, you know, but you can tell he's having trouble when he comes into the house from picking abby up. she runs past you, yelling hi on her way to draw in her room. mike just huffs as he takes off his jacket and moves around the living room, mildly sulking around. 

you're painting your toes, and look up at his back with gentle eyes. "mikeyyyyyy," you chorus, watching how his shoulders slightly drop at your voice. "what's wrong?" he hated when anyone else called him mikey, but somehow, you always prodded at his soft spot, disarming him.

he faces you now, all pouty and irked and you make grabby hands for him, cracking a warm smile as he sits on the couch and scoots so you're in his arms and halfway in his lap. your perfume distracts him momentarily, and he inhales deeply, laughing as you swat him, trying to talk between your own giggles. "mikeee, stop. tell me what's wrong." 

"my sandwich," his tone is exasperated, nearly a wail. he closes his eyes. "no sourdough." 

"again?" you say, toning it with as much compassion as you could. you loved mike, but he was always disappointed by this sandwich. this place he went to never had sourdough apparently, and you believed it. you'd only seen him get it a couple times a month, joyous and cheery and the most excited that he'd finally gotten his favorite lunch treat. "why don't you do different bread again? which one did you do that last time?" 

"rye, and it's not the same. not bad, but not sourdough." 

"well, you don't have to let it get you down, baby." you stroke his arm, rubbing the hair at the nape of his neck and pressing your lips to his temple for a few long kisses. he sighs under you, his breathing even. "you'll get your sandwich. you always do." 

little did he know that you meant you'd make it for him personally every day, using his card to get the ingredients every time you needed to restock.

you'd have it prepared in a ziploc bag for him, and it didn't matter if you were at his house, or your own; there wasn't one day since then that he hadn't gotten his sandwich on sourdough, and a cute little note with doodles and wishes and fantasies from you, signed with "i love you the most" in neat, swirling cursive, your name, and three hearts. he thought your sandwich was better by a mile. 

you were one of his bright spots, his sun. his star. 

hehe cutie origin story (i am so tired, so eepy). hope you all enjoy this one <3 i love this dynamic and i think they're so fun to write about.

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites

[chronotopes]

This is maybe a weird question but. What is a kin onion and how do you use it

omg not weird at all! it's something a friend from homestuck twitter came up with circa 2020-2021, and it's basically a fun format for introducing your ocs to people/tracking your influences. here's helen's og thread explaining it, and (though you didn't exactly ask), here is the UPDATED QUARTZ KIN ONION with a brief explanation of what each character is meant to inform about her. the character identification strength is supposed to go outside in, with the inner layer being 'extreme aesthetic/thematic similarity' and the outer layer being 'has several key traits in common'.

innnermost circle: marcille from dungeon meshi: adorable blonde wizard who's kind of squeamish and 'girly' in a way that masks her great affinity for violence and her academic interest in implicitly or explicitly forbidden magic.

middle circle (going clockwise from the top): adam parrish from the raven cycle (teenager from a poor rural background explicitly invested in upward mobility through learning/university; constantly fucking with magic more powerful than her in a way that sometimes intersects with her mental/bodily autonomy; down bad for two to three of her closest friends; has a profound self-isolating instinct that sometimes makes her a dick to these friends, which is exacerbated by her relationship with Big Scary Magic). dana scully from the x files (professional smartgirl trying to keep it together at all costs, using the scientific method to investigate phenomena beyond her comprehension, has crazy heteroerotic tension with a close friend investigating the same phenomena with her). jo march ("woman" (yeah right) in a world with strict restrictions on women's spaces ; gay and invested in her own autonomy in a way that manifests in a 'childish' distrust and dislike of marriage and romantic love). rose lalonde (girl who thinks she is too smart for the horrors; interfacing with a sinister cosmic force who expresses an explicit interest in manipulating young women; close relationship with a twin brother who starts the story more visibly damaged to her but adapts to the poststory better)

aaaand the outermost circle, going faster now: (eowyn: depressed blonde girl who helps save the world in the most suicidal way possible, another character with a close sibling relationship; jade harley: 'haha i'm just so nice! :)' at first glance girl who ends the story lonely as shit and transformed by cosmic forces she only had limited agency in; carol marcus from star trek: terminally divorced scientist fucking with powers beyond her comprehension; obi-wan kenobi: lonely wizard brooding in isolation, likes rules and the approval of institutions a little bit too much; harriet vane from the lord peter wimsey books, specifically gaudy night: extremely smart young woman trying to balance her emotional and intellectual autonomy with her profound loneliness; charley kringas from merrily we roll along: extremely nichely-successful in her field but hasn't gotten over her epic divorce with her more public personality-oriented and arguably more dead-inside best friend; antigone: girl whose story is begun by her desire to defend her brother from unjust institutions and whose grief is 'unwomanly' in a way that earns social sanctions, killing yourself enjoyer; and joan of arc, GIRL WHO HEARS VOICES BABYYYY (and helps save her country i guess).

with that way-too-long explanation given, i hope that was at least a little helpful in illustrating the various character traits you can cherry pick from All The Media Youve Ever Seen to make one of these. it takes way too long and is also a lot of fun. heres a blank png!

[bl00dlight]

A Song of Shadow & Flame

CANON Dark! Aemond Targaryen x OC niece Targaryen. | SERIES

All NSFW warnings apply in future chapters.

Author's note • Not proofread, may be typos.

Word Count ~ 2.9k+

Index

i ● ii ● iii ● iv● v ● vi● vii ●viii ●ix ● x ● xi ● xii ● xiii ● xiv ● xv

iv ~ 'Driftmark'

123 AC

After the birth of Prince Joffrey Velaryon, Princess Rhaenyra had swiftly decided to take herself, her husband and their children to live upon Dragonstone amidst the dark rumours which followed the parentage of her son’s. Similar rumours followed her daughter, the Princess Visenya; however, it was claims of her father being not that or Ser Harwin Strong, but of Daemon Targaryen. Much like her brothers, Visenya bared little resemblance to her proclaimed father Laenor Velaryon and upon the birth of Prince Joffrey, another son born to Rhaneyra, of pale skin and dark hair; the difference in appearance grew beyond stark.

Despite this, Visenya had adored her new life on Dragonstone, she felt it suited her much greater than the piss smelling streets of King’s Landing. Whether it be from the raging storms or thick smell of volcanic ash wish drifted upon the wind; the shores of Dragonstone were utterly ideal for Visenya. She had seldom thought of her Uncle Aemond, since last seeing him all those moons ago – however, she found herself reluctant still to be rid of his copy of ‘Age’s of Heros’ that she had stolen from him.

Much like everything else in the Princesses quarters, she kept the copy stacked carelessly upon her unkept bookshelf. She felt dissatisfied with the current furnishings of her quarters, currently they seemed quite plain, besides the detailed patterned carvings in the stone arches over her bed, of course. Today, was like many other days upon Dragonstone, drizzling with rain with the low rumbles of thunder over the horizon, yet Visenya had spent most of her day brooding. No, even the electrifying atmosphere could lift Visenya’s spirits – as her name day had finally arrived she was of ten and three now. Soon to be a woman as her mother had greeted her that morning, presenting her with an array of gorgeous silken, jewelled toned gowns and shoes. Her father, Ser Leanor had gifted her two sapphire and jade coloured gowns as he wished to see her adorn the House Velaryon shades more often. Blue was a colour she seldom wore, though Ser Leanor had insisted she wear one of his gifted gowns today. Among the sea of treasures Lord’s from across the realm had sent, along with propositions for betrothals to their young and sometimes old sons. Indeed, Visenya had been spoiled with many arriving Ravens, however there was only one she truly longed to receive.

The Princess sat, gloomily looking out upon the swirling tides of The Narrow Sea. Her deep blue gown gleaming as the last light of the day passed beyond the horizon. Despite the planned festivities and newly given treasures she had been on the verge of tears since the afternoon – since no mention of a raven from her true father Daemon had been accounted for. He always sent a raven on her name day, always.

 She had supposed he must truly be happily busy in Pentos, so happy with his tempered lifestyle that he had all but forgotten of her. I mean, he did have her half-sisters to indulge wit his affections, surely watching them grow every day with such pride that poor Visenya was simply out of sight, out of mind. Her mind stewed with all the possibilities regarding his silence, jealously and sorrow filled her as every passing hour came with it a new level of disappointment.

Yet still, she waited, hoping to see another raven glide through the sky; hoping to see the likes of something that would never come.

●

The servants tended to Visenya, braiding her hair lavishly for her name day supper. Her low mood did not escape the notice of her handmaid Olenna, who gently squeezed her hand; somehow Visenya could sense the woman knew of her troubles.

The hour passed swiftly, and the Princess had waited impatiently to be sent for supper. Olenna had readied her chambers, so many times in fact did she adjust any crease or crinkle upon the Princesses bed that Visenya had to all but command Olenna to sit and entertain herself with a book.

Echoing footsteps dawned upon the opening of her chambers, Visenya stood apprehensively her brow raised at the frantic whispering she heard. She looked to Olenna, who suddenly readjusted herself and stood quickly, a familiar soft voice beckoned her head to turn.

“My girl…come.” Princess Rhaenyra stood, extending her hand as she awaited her daughter to follow. Visenya moved apprehensively, once her hand met the warmth of her mother’s Visenya furrowed her brows in concern as Rhaenyra led her quietly out into the halls of Dragonstone.

The two had not uttered a word, Visenya knew something was amiss, something was terribly wrong. What if it is her father? What if Daemon has been struck down in Pentos or found dead in a ditch? What if that is why he never sent for a letter. Oh Gods, she was going to be sick, no she was to faint. The feeling built and built within her, brewing within her as she found herself riddled with tormenting thoughts of all the possibilities. The Princess stopped her face white with dread as tears filled her eyes.

“Is it my father?” The words escaped her mouth before she could stop herself, but she had to know. She needed to know.

Rhaenyra turned and stepped forward to reach her daughters hands, she shook her head, “Gods no… no father is with your brothers. Come, we must speak to you.”

Visenya trembled, her voice like gossamer, she hesitated for a moment, hesitated in revealing the truth, that she knew of her mother’s lies, knew she was indeed of Daemon’s blood. “No! No, not Ser Leanor.” Her voice meek.

Rhaneyra’s eyes widened, her face dropping further as the silence filled the space between them. Her mind raced, her emotions swelling with anger and fear, yet also with acquiescence – she sighed and shook her head. After all, it was not the fault of her daughter’s that she had been sold a falsehood, Rhan    eyra had supposed had she never wished for Visenya to discover the truth she would have put a stop to Daemon contacting the young Princess. Yet, she didn’t.

Rhaenyra gripped her daughter’s wrist, pulling her softly towards her, she looked around making sure they were indeed without any other company who might hear such an admittance. “As I said, your father is fine.” Princess Rhaenyra gave her daughter a sympathetic look, allowing the two to come to an understanding as she stroked her daughter’s cheek. “Come.”

With that, Visenya was soon taken to the hearth of the throne room, she looked with wide unsure eyes, still dressed in her fine sapphire blue gown. Ser Leanor sitting upon a grand, leather arm chair as he clutched the hand of Lucerys trembled, shaking his head as his eyes met Visenya’s, she saw the gleam of tears down his face.

As she came to his side, his hands shifted to take her into his arms – both Rhaenyra and Ser Leanor exchanged solemn looks before they gazed at the three children before them.

Ser Leanor spoke lowly, standing as he joined Rhaenyra’s side. “Earlier this afternoon, we had received a letter from Pent- “

Visenya stepped forward, her eyes beaming, “Pentos? Daemon?”

Suddenly a soft sob came from Ser Leanor, Jace and Luke gazing worryingly as they watched their ‘father’ turn, his hand upon his forehead as he attempted to compose himself. Rhaenyra sighed, gently placing her hand on his forearm as she spoke.  

“Yes, Visenya, it was from Daemon… he has informed us of recent events which, we thought it best to let you know of. Of course, Visenya, I know this is not the most opportune moment and I do promise once we return we shall find the time to properly celebrate your name day.” Rhaneyra spoke softly, she furrowed her brow in sympathy as she gazed at her daughter.

Jace shook his head, stepping forward in curiosity, “Return? From where?”

“Driftmark… your, Aunt Lady Laena she…” The shaking voice of Ser Leanor once again found little ability to continue speaking before his tears overcame him.

Princess Rhaneyra gave Ser Leanor a grimace gesturing for him to sit down once more, after he did so, she turned to Visenya and her brother’s, her voice that same delicate tone. “She unexpectedly went into labour with her child, to which she… she did not survive. We must travel to Driftmark on the morrow for her funeral is to be within the next few days, I believe.”

The young Princess stepped back, the words of her mother almost echoing in the stoney halls of Dragonstone. Is that why Daemon never sent a raven? What of her half-sisters… shall they come to live upon Dragonstone now? Her thoughts raced right as she looked to her brother’s both whose eyes weakened in sorrow. Visenya clasped the hand of her younger brother Lucerys, and the distress of Ser Leanor almost didn’t register in Visenya’s mind as his shattering sobs filled the space around them.

●

Lady Laena’s funeral was met with the news of the suspicious death of Ser Harwin Strong a few hours prior, it took everything in her to not take Jace in her arms, to follow up upon the grief in his eyes as he tried to stifle it down.

Visenya sat upon her assigned chamber in Castle Driftmark, wiping the rogue tears that rolled down her cheek. It was a solemn day, everything seemed glazed in a strange gloom that seemed particularly hard to shake, for it was the suspicious death of Ser Strong which marked the day even more grim. Some had said mayhap it was the curse of Harrenhal, even the sound of that name sent fine chills down Visenya’s spine, she had heard of horrid stories of its curse, the gruesome deaths, wailing wind and twisted visions that send men to madness.

As the Princess looked up, her eyes caught the wide window that overlooked Blackwater Bay, the way the dark water curled and wiped against the rocks seemed to echo the coiling of the grey clouds that wept above. The inner walls of castle Driftmark were a particularly dreary place on days such as this, the dark salt stained walls seemed to weep as the air filled with a particular damp smell which was impossible to shake. It was completely unlike the warmth of Dragonstone, and Visenya longed for the warm air of home that left her skin smelling of dragonfire. Instead, she felt… itchy and cold.

She looked to the skies, noticing the rumbling behind the clouds – one which seemed like that of a Dragon’s and a mournful roar sent a deep vibration through her chest as the dark, looming mass of what could only be Laena’s dragon, Vhagar soared the sky. Visenya’s eyes watered once more at Vhagar’s lament, her heart aching at the thought of how the dragon must ache for her rider. The Princess had always had a soft spot for the large beast, she was terribly old; and Visenya couldn’t help but to think just how strange it must be to live to see eras come and go. How awful it must feel to see the deaths of her many riders over the centuries and feel the loss of a time which shall never return. She had known of the bond between her great ancestor, to whom she was named after; Queen Visenya Targaryen and Vhagar – marvelling at the thought it was indeed Queen Visenya herself, who was the very first to ride upon the back of mighty beast.

It was not just Vhagar’s sorrow which made the Princess weep softly, but also the thought of Lady Laena – her once beautiful face now nothing more than a charred corpse, alongside the babe that she carried within. Visenya looked up to the curdling grey clouds, noticing how they reminded her of Laena’s coiled silvery locks – how, whether it be a brother or sister, Visenya thought of the silvery curls which would amass upon the babe’s head if it had been born. The sentiment rattled the young Princess, to die such a death, screaming and grieving all at once. To know feel the crossover, the toll of death birthing new life oft takes upon a woman. It made her heart thump, the very thought of Laena’s cries and screams, how surreal it would have been… how scared she likely was.

The gentle waft of dark mead and ash filled Visenya’s senses as a warm hand gripped her shoulder, “Tala…” Daughter

The Princess eyes widened, she wiped around and the sight before her did little to prevent more tears from falling, the grim face of her father, Prince Daemon looked down upon her and before Visenya said another word she threw her arms around him, letting the warmth of his embrace engulf her as she wept softly, “Kepa..” Father

He cupped her face, bringing her eyes to meet his as the Princess babbled, “I was so worried, you never sent a Raven…I…” Visenya shook her head, wiping her tears.

A noticeable silence filled the space, Daemon’s eyes narrowed down before he pulled away, his hand on his head before he paused to speak again.  “You know why I couldn’t.”

The princess’s eyes pleaded; she stepped forward wishing he would take her in her arms once more, “I know… but I… I just wished you’d have sent one?”

The Rogue Prince scoffed, shaking his head incredulously as his daughter’s words only managed to strike him in a selfish manner, “You are not a little girl, Visenya! The time has long since passed for such childish needs of a fucking gift for your name day.”

“You think I am upset because you bare no gift? No- “Visenya protested.

Daemon found himself beyond angry, though he was not sure if it was truly his daughter whom he felt it towards – mayhap it was everything. Everything he desired taken so brutally from him or destroyed. He couldn’t help but feel a flicker of blame for Laena, how he had refused her wished to return to Driftmark before the birth, how he had hardly even been a husband to her at all. What right did he have to grief when he had all but been the man to occasionally warm her bed, rather than the father to her children. The guilt crushed him, he had spent his many years longing for Rhaenyra, longing to see Visenya – when his true wife, his legitimate daughters stood before him, awaiting for the day when he could finally show affection.

Daemons voice was hoarse, tormented as he snapped, “The matter of what happened to your sister’s mother, had to take priority. I had little mind of celebration and apologise if such a thing discomforted you, but it is well time you learn that there shall be times when I cannot send for you, times when I must attend to greater fucking matters!”

Her heart all but dropped upon hearing her father’s words, was that all she was? A mere afterthought to more important matters? The daughter he made and then abandoned, while he lived lavishly in Pentos. While he spoiled Baela and Rhaena with attention for all these years and Visenya wait with bated breath for a fucking raven only on her name day? Visenya stepped forward, furious now as she hollered, “Greater matters than your own daug-“

The Princess was once again cut off by his warm hand over her mouth, he gripped her harshly, lowering his head to whisper. “Walls have ears.” Daemon paused, his tone softening as he released her from his grasp, “Baela and Rhaena are also my daughters.” His eyes softened as he looked upon Visenya, how she had grown so much, how every time his eyes caught a glimpse of her, it was like meeting a new person.

Prince Daemon looked down, unwilling to shed any tears despite them nagging at his eyes. The pain of seeing his daughter grow, the years of her childhood spent without him – without her own father guiding her, basking in her first moments. He hadn’t been there when she first claimed Silverwing, he had hardly been there for any of her life at all.

A solemn silence filled the space, Visenya stood with her hands clutching each other, more tears falling as she looked up at him, her eyes still pleading for him to look up at her, to hold her as he did once or twice in the Dragonpits, all those years ago. She hated seeing how he truly had started to look older, his face slightly more wrinkled with age now. Visenya couldn’t help but to fear, one day she’d look at her father and see an old man – and then, that would be it.

The princess stepped forward once more, her voice desperately gentle, weak almost as she spoke, “You’ve not sent word in so long… and I… Nyke ēdan missed ao, kepa.” I had missed you, father. The final words sounding as though they came from the small girl she once was, rather than the bourgeoning young woman her mother said she would soon become.

Daemon let her words hang for a moment before he looked up, his own eyes pleading with her now as he gazed upon his daughter with a guilty affection that even as the Rogue Prince, he still felt frightened by. Her words made his belly coil in sorrow, coil with a love that warmed every bone in his body, his hand extended out, reaching to capture her small one in his as he spoke, his voice nothing more than a whisper, “I know, zaldrītsos.” little dragon.

○ v ○

[admhawthorne]

Ramblings on Maura Isles

Maura Isles started as a unique, dynamic, colorful character filled with vibrant depth and endearing idiosyncrasies that, overtime, all devolved into 'how can the Maura character help Jane look less macho?,' and I really hate the writers and powers-that-be for doing that to what had been a charming character.

The Maura of the show was a very different character from the books. Where book Maura was a dark, brooding character, TV Maura was effervescent and quippy without coming across as obnoxious.

During the time in which the show acted as a two-lead show with a strong ensemble, Maura's character continued to grow, but, around the middle of the series, it lost the ensemble feel and fell into a more centrally focused show, and that is when we lost the spirited and powerful Maura Isles from the first few seasons.

Once a character with staunch idiosyncrasies to rival an Agatha Christie character like Perot or Marple, she suddenly was able to do whatever was convenient for the script and/or whatever would push the primary character's narrative forward. Suddenly, she could lie without the threat of fainting. She didn't ramble her long list of statistics. She easily handed off her beloved pet. She was no longer as much of a stickler for cleanliness as before. Practically overnight, she lost the little details that made her, well, her.

The TV character of Maura Isles deserved better than that. The show was never going to be as serious or dramatic as the books, and TV Maura was never going to do something like, say, sleep with a priest (something book Maura did a NUMBER of times), but she could've been so much more if her character hadn't been taken out to make more room in what should've been a two-lead show.

At least, that's how I saw things anyway, but, of course, I'm a touch jaded about the show, so maybe these are just my own thoughts alone.

[vikkirosko]

Saw your requests were open, so I thought I might shoot my shot.

I’ve recently gotten really into Homestuck, in massive part because of the HiveSwap FriendSim and PesterQuest games (god I love them), which lead me down the slippery slope; and I’m in LOVE with the Jade Bloods.

So, kindly, may I request for some HC’s with a human reader who convinces their chosen Jade Blood to try this human invention called, “Cuddling”.

Asking for Bronya, Lynera, Daraya and Lanque.

Headcanons Cuddling

💚 Bronya Ursama x human!Reader 🍼

Your appearance in Bronya's life was unexpected for her. You were an outsider, an alien who ended up in her house. But you weren't going to hurt anyone. You were a friendly and open person who was eager to learn more about a planet you didn't know and about those you met. Especially about Bronya, which you were particularly interested in

Over time, you began to spend a lot of time with her. You hid when it was necessary, because you were much weaker than most trolls and you could easily have been killed. You were happy to help her with grubs and just chat with her. Bronya liked how open you were in communication and you didn't hide any secret motives. You just liked her

On one of the quiet days, I told her that you wanted to teach her one thing that is being done on your home planet. You assured her that it wasn't dangerous. Only after that Bronya calmed down and allowed you to do what you wanted. She was surprised when you hugged her. You claimed that this was how humans expressed their support, their feelings and closeness

The hug was a bit unexpected for her, but Bronya wouldn't say it was anything unpleasant. She liked feeling the warmth of your hands. She felt like she could relax for a little while, knowing that she was safe

💚 Daraya Jonjet x human!Reader 🖤

You and Daraya met in an abandoned shopping mall. She came there periodically when she wanted to be alone, and you came there after seeing an interesting place. She watched you curiously looking at the abandoned shops. She didn't think you were dangerous, so she talked to you. You were a strange but friendly alien

You started seeing each other in an abandoned shopping mall. She told you about brooding caverns, and you told her about Earth, your home planet. Your planet was very different from Alternia, but Daraya loved listening to your stories. You knew that you were unlikely to return home, so you were glad that you weren't alone. Daraya told you about how cruel Alternia was. Listening to her, you realized more and more that she needed support, because there was little you could do to help her change the planet

When you saw that she was sad, you suggested that she try one of the ways that humans use to feel better. Daraya looked at you thoughtfully, but agreed. You hugged her, causing surprise on Daraya's face. It was the first time she had felt something so warm and soothing

She wasn't sure exactly what you were doing, but she liked the warmth she felt. It was not only physical warmth, but also mental. Your hugs couldn't get her out of all her problems, but you could at least help her feel better a little bit

💚 Lanque Bombyx x human!Reader 🌷

When Lanque first saw you, he immediately noticed that you were different from the trolls. You were an alien, and because of that, you aroused his interest. He wasn't shy about flirting with you, but you talked to him like you were just friends. Lanque was wondering how long you would be able to maintain this attitude, so he continued to communicate with you

You told him about your home planet with a smile, and he listened while continuing to flirt with you. He liked your sincerity. It was like a challenge to him. Bronya asked him several times not to cross the line with you, but he wasn't going to listen to her

One day when you were spending time together, you told him that you wanted to show him something that humans often do. Your words interested him, so he agreed to find out what you wanted to show him. You asked him to close his eyes, which interested him even more. When he felt your warmth, he opened his eyes. You hugged him, with a sincere smile on your lips

You called it a hug. He felt the warmth of your human's body. Usually, such intimacy entailed something more, but you just hugged him. You claimed that it showed care and affection. Lanque wasn't sure why you were doing this, but he even liked being in your arms. It seemed to make you closer

💚 Lynera Skalbi x human!Reader 🔪

When Lynera first saw you, she tensed up. You often talked to Bronya and it really bothered her, but when you met Lynera, all your attention turned to her. This caused her surprise and misunderstanding. For some reason, you liked spending time with her more than with the wonderful Bronya. However, at some point, she realized that she didn't mind it either

You were friendly and open. You were ready to listen to her when she needed it and showed a keen interest in her and her life. Lynera was pleased to know that she had someone she could trust. You were there for her when she was happy and when she was sad. She could trust you with her emotions and feelings

When you came to her, you saw that she was crying. It wasn't the first time, but this time she cried harder than usual. You didn't know exactly what happened, but you knew you couldn't stay away. You hugged her, wanting to give her some support. Lynera froze, not knowing what to expect, but your hugs distracted her from sadness and tears

You told her that these were hugs and humans used them when they wanted to show affection or provide support. You didn't know what her problems were, but you sincerely wanted to support her. It was really important to her. She calmed down a little and you could discuss what happened, but you were in no hurry to let her go, realizing that she might still need your support

[nickeverdeen]

When the Strong Crumble | Kit Tanthalos x fem!reader

Pairings: Kit x reader (romantic), Jade x reader (platonic), Sorsha x reader (platonic), Jade x Kit (platonic), Kit x Sorsha (family), Jade x Sorsha (platonic)

Type of fic: Hurt/comfort

Warnings: None

Summary: After Kit had an argument with her mum you go to comfort her and even if she won’t ever admit it Kit likes to be babied a bit from time to time

———————

You and Jade were strolling through the castle, chatting and catching up. It had been a while since you’d had the chance to talk properly—life had been busy for both of you, and you missed your friend. As you laughed at one of Jade’s stories, your conversation was interrupted by the sound of shouting coming from the gardens.

You and Jade exchanged a glance, and without a word, you both headed in the direction of the noise. When you reached the gardens, the sight before you was all too familiar—Kit and her mother in yet another argument. The queen turned, her eyes narrowing slightly when she saw you and Jade approaching. She ended the conversation abruptly, turning on her heel and walking away, leaving Kit standing there, her posture rigid and her expression unreadable.

“Kit?” Jade asked, concern in her voice as she stepped forward. “Everything okay?”

Kit just waved her off, her expression hardening. “I’m fine,” she said curtly before brushing past you both and heading back into the castle.

You stood there, conflicted. You wanted to follow Kit, to make sure she was really okay, but leaving Jade behind felt wrong—like you were abandoning her. At the same time, staying here while Kit was clearly upset made you feel like a terrible girlfriend. You glanced at Jade, your worry evident.

Jade gave you a small, understanding smile. “Go,” she said softly, nodding toward the castle. “I’ll be fine.”

You didn’t need any more encouragement. You quickly headed back inside, your heart pounding as you tried to figure out where Kit might have gone. She was unpredictable when she was upset—sometimes she’d lock herself away in her room, sometimes she’d find a quiet corner of the castle to brood, and sometimes she’d go out to the training grounds to let out her frustration. It took you a while, but eventually, you found her in her room, sitting on her bed, her back to the door.

You stepped inside quietly, closing the door behind you. Kit didn’t look up, her shoulders tense, and you approached her slowly, sitting down beside her. The silence stretched between you, heavy and uncomfortable, but you didn’t say anything—Kit wasn’t ready to talk yet. You just waited, your presence a silent offering of comfort.

After a few moments, you reached out, your hand resting gently on Kit’s shoulder. She tensed for a moment before letting out a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping. You gave her a small, sad smile, your voice soft as you said, “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t explain—for what, or why. You just wanted her to know that you were there, that you understood, even if you didn’t know the details.

Kit turned to you, her eyes searching your face for a moment before she finally let her guard down. She shifted, allowing you to pull her into your lap, her head resting against your shoulder. Normally, Kit would have protested—she was strong, independent, and she hated showing vulnerability. But right now, she just needed you.

You wrapped your arms around her, one hand coming up to gently play with her hair. Kit buried her face in your neck, her tough exterior crumbling as she let herself relax into your embrace. She clung to you, her breathing slow and steady, and you held her close, your fingers running through her hair as you whispered soft reassurances.

It struck you, then, just how much Kit needed this. She was always so strong, so fierce—but in moments like this, when it was just the two of you, she allowed herself to be vulnerable. She allowed herself to be held, to be comforted, and you realized that she liked it. She liked being babied a bit, being taken care of, even if she’d never admit it.

You pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, your heart aching with love for her. “I love you” you whispered.

Kit didn’t say anything, but the way she held onto you, the way her body relaxed against yours, told you everything you needed to know. And as you sat there, holding her close, you knew that you’d always be there for her—no matter what.

[peaches2217]

I literally waited your entire hiatus to put this in your inbox and then I forgot??? I’m so tired man

Anyway!!!

Was rereading Guided Brooding while listening to a song from my new fav band (Dance Class by Good Kid), and could NOT shake the image of what might have been Peach’s thought process on that same day?

She probably knows Mario wasn’t very experienced with the traditional dances, and that he’d be self conscious about it. Peach being Peach, maybe she would want to incorporate music he might be familiar with, but while Mario’s struggling to learn her dance steps, Peach is struggling to learn his.

(Maybe she’s thinking of a fast paced jig, with some room for error? I don’t know, I’ve been to a lot of Mexican parties so Pasayo De Rodeo is what I’ve been picturing, and one of the biggest blocks I’m having with this prompt is that I don’t know what the Italian equivalent would be)

And maybe the whole thing would come together to be about meeting each other halfway. Obviously I can’t figure out how to word this properly so I’m inflicting it onto you

Oh my GOD-

She fantasizes about it more than she cares to admit. She wants him to sweep her off her feet and twirl her around the ballroom... but to get to that point, he has to get comfortable with dancing first, right? All her goading to get him to dance with her isn't to push him out of his comfort zone. She's trying to tell him "I know it's unfamiliar territory to you, and I know you're worried about messing up, and I want you to know none of that matters to me." Mario thinks she's placing too much confidence in him and is trying to raise him to her level; rather, she's acknowledging that everyone has to start somewhere and lowering herself down to his level.

Given the length of time these two idiots spend pining over each other, it's safe to say communication isn't their strong suit pre-relationship, so that gets them absolutely nowhere.

Peach WANTS to learn some dances that he's familiar with. She wants that more than anything. But Mario comes from a completely different realm, possibly another universe altogether. She can't know the dances he knows unless he or Luigi teach her. And dammit all, when you're hopelessly smitten with your foreign bodyguard, asking him or his brother to teach you about their culture for your own selfish ends feels criminal!

(They would both happily teach her anything she wants to know if she would just ask. She does eventually get the courage to ask those questions, and they immediately welcome her into the fold of Italian language and food and culture, but it takes a while longer for her to find that courage.)

I think... holy shit, Jade, I think I've gotta make a sequel, because now you've got the motors running something fierce.

[jovialspecter]

Talk about your fantrolls NOWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!

ALRIGHTY BITCHES. So note that some have more iterations than others and im prolly gonna fix up the less refined ones AS I AM TALKING.

Ill add a cut because theres so fucking much of them.

Feel free to ask more questions i love my sillies!!!

Lets go in order of caste, therefore...

FIRST OF ALL! Nihila Umbrax, the Knight of Void, Derse sway, Burgundy Blood.

Nihila is a burgundy who was less fortunate at wriggling to say the least. They have multiple significant mutations, their eyes are solid red and their height is comparable to that of an older purpleblood, aswell as large mothlike wings. All of this and its seclusion in the woods has led to it being mystified as a local cryptid, the fact that its horns are shaped like antennae does not help the mothman allegations. Beneath all of this Nihila is overall just a big clumsy blind individual, they like to tinker with electronics and usually end up dumpster diving to salvage parts. They were most likely the troll who got SGrub up and working for the group, but its cryptid nature is not at all ceased during the game. Bowkind Strife.

Next we have Squash Tapeko, the Bard of Space, Prospit sway, Bronze Blood.

Squash is a bit of an anomaly in general, being that he operates outside of the typical laws of space and time. Paradox space and Squash get along like two peas in a pod, or more aptly two pumpkins in a patch, while normal space seems to avoid him like the plague. Hes always wearing those tacky shades that have the lines and stuff, and only has one horn which curls like a stem. Anyone accquainted with the laws of paradox space can tell in an instant this goofy goober is like a pumpkin given physical form. He likes to garden, usually growing squashes for later use as plot devices. Sodakind Strife.

Next! Aureum Crisia, the Maid of Light, Derse Sway, Gold Blood.

Aureum has little to no psiioniics despite being a goldblood, she's insecure for obvious reasons. She compensates with over the top optimism, though in truth she is a realist who never waits for things to fall into her hand. She has spent her whole life using charisma and wit to work her way into alternian business, despite the prejudice shown by higher classes. She can be a bit shady sometimes, but she refuses to take any disrespect. Coinkind Strife.

Beitah Bliuta, the Sylph of Breath, Prospit Sway, Olive Blood.

Beitah is close with Nihila, shes shared purr hive with them for as long as they can remember, practically siblings. Their hive is rudimentary regardless, mostly a well decorated cavern. Beitah is overall playful and childish, and the youngest of the group. She is also however a bit feral, for lack of a better word, most view purr as just overall weird for any of these things. Beitah is smaller than most of the others and wears baggy clothes constantly.

Raekie Venaer, the Rogue of Doom, Prospit Sway, Jade Blood.

Raekie likes to call themself a poet, followed by a murder of crow lusii constantly. They didn't favor life in the brooding caverns and instead live in a makeshift treehouse they ended up making after running away. They don't live in the same area as Beitah and Nihila but they do exchange tips through Trollian, and of course Raekie shares their cheesy poetry. Despite the gothic aesthetic Raekie is a terminal optimist, and knows good and well how cheesy their poetry is. Penkind Strife.

Terrun Biyiga, the Thief of Life, Prospit Sway, Teal Blood.

Terrun hates his own caste, plain and simple, mostly because of having lower class friends and realizing he was a part of the problem. He internalizes this hatred as of the start of the session, simply playing along. He has a certain level of internalized self hate, but covers all of this up with a hero complex and cowboy accent. Revolverkind Strife.

Now for a real interesting one, Celare Scurra, the Mage of Mind, Derse Sway, Cerulean Blood.

Celare Scurra is actually not 100% a troll. She always seems oddly well dressed, and never removes her gloves. On Derse, you may hear a whistling of a familiar tune, though back on Alternia it's less well known. Celare Scurra has joined The Midnight Crew on Derse. By some twist of fate, her body has a hint of Carapacian, which has shrouded half of her dreamself in black. She serves as a villain for this story, overall. Bit of a bitch, but unlike Vriska she doesn't flaunt it. Cardkind Strife.

Kirkor Stilis, the Heir of Heart, Prospit Sway, Indigo Blood.

Kirkor isn't the brightest, but he's sure lovable. Hes the only one even close to matching Nihila's height, and serves as Aureum's bodyguard at times as a result, warding off anyone who would threaten her due to his sheer scale. Theres some sort of moiraillegiac tension there, probably. Overall he serves as, well, the heart of the group. Hes also just very clumsy, someone give the 7 foot tall pair some dexterity. Hammerkind.

Manika Dexsue, the Witch of Hope, Derse Sway, Purple Blood.

Manika gets her kicks in a different way from most purplebloods, she usually only dresses up in the full clown getup for formal stuff. Normally shes wearing a dirty jumpsuit and rubber gloves with a purple gas mask, inviting Nihila over for their latest biomechanical experiment. Nibies' arm tends to end up the test subject. Manika is overall just a short mad scientist, and of course besties with Nihila. Sawkind / Needlekind Strife.

Sourim Paetel, the Seer of Blood, Derse Sway, Violet Blood.

Sourim is a socially inept hopeless romantic. He knows how to interact with high troll society... And thats about it. He's all prose and pretty words, with no real awareness of the state of things. He loves rainbow drinker literature, and this was why he first took an interest in Raekie, and then fell HARD. The fact that he has no social awareness makes flirting difficult, aswell as the fact that he takes Raekie's poetry seriously and Raekie doesn't take his seriously. Theyre both idiots with romance. Rapierkind Strife.

Ossico Blakke, Prince of Rage, Derse Sway, Fuchsia Blood.

Ossico is constantly tired, quick to anger if awoken from a good nap. Overall the whole group knows she has some anger issues to work through, but she cares deeply about her friends and is a sweetheart when shes calm. She is a force of raw destruction with a love for all things cutesy and brightly colored, and ducks. Furniturekind Strife.

Nibies Dulcis, Page of Time, Prospit Sway, Cotton Candy Blood.

Nibies was claimed by a purpleblood cult before she could be culled, and was worshipped as the avatar of their god, this was not a good thing for her. Eventually she did make it out and meet Manika, theyve got some sort of undisclosed redrom going on there, noones really sure. Nibies also hates Celare for an unknown reason, and its rather obvious theyve got some blackrom tension. Nibies is silly and over the top to make up for Manika's lack of clown behavior, with a very intense sweet tooth. She probably would have gone entirely mad if not for this group, and Manika and Nihila made her a prosthetic arm to replace the one she lost. Sweetskind Strife.