#and they all have name cards except for the seven

[shuutingstar]

what if someone made a sitcom with Camp Half Blood and the whole premise is literally just showing the backgrounds characters while the main characters go save the world or smth.

Like.

[camera pans on Drew’s face]

Drew: [looking at her nails indifferently] yeah someone let all the pagasai out of their stables and it’s a chore to fix.

[explosions in the background]

Drew: [unfazed] I’m not saying that I’m helping, by the way. I’ve broken a nail and I’m still in pain.

[Percy is seen battling a cyclops while Annabeth slashes at its feet with her dagger before running off frame]

Drew: I know you must be wondering why I don’t just go to the infirmary, but they’ve been full ever since the stampede — and Connor promised he’d steal me some cute bandaids with pictures on them so I decided to wait it out.

[screams and more explosions and property damage]

Drew: [rolls her eyes] but now Connor’s busy doing something else so I have to wait even longer. maybe I should just go to the infirmary… [walks away from camera]

[camera zooms in on the carnage near the stables where the seven can be seen herding the frightened winged horses back to their stables, while a beat-up cyclops lay unconscious with only its feet in frame]

EDIT : made smth kinda similar here if anyone wants to check it out :P

[thewritetofreespeech]

Flourish

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: Aemond had not been joking when he said they would work on another child after their first was born. Aemond never joked. [ part ii of this work ]

tags: heterosexual sex (m/f), fingering, breeding kink, mentions of past pregnancy, use of High Valyrian, Aemond so in love with his wife that he might fall over.

words: 2K Ao3

-------------------------------⚔️-------------------------------

The fire was warm as it crackled in the hearth. Staying off the coming chill of the cooler months settling in upon them.

Aemond stared into the hypnotic flames. His wine from dinner at his left while his wife sat in her twin seat at his right, wrestling with the babe in her arms. “Stop fighting little one.” She whispered under her breath at their child. To which Aemond had to scoff quietly as his cheeks raised in a smirk. You might as well tell a bird not to fly, if it was one of his children.

His beloved wife had given him the child he had asked for. A beautiful, strong, silver-haired paragon. With her mother’s eyes instead of his own, but no less the perfect Targaryen jewel. They named her Amena, after much debate of naming her Alyssa or Alysanne after his grandmothers. Truly they had considered it but, in the end, Aemond wanted his children to be their own person for as much as they could. So much of their lives would not be their own; their duties, their battles, their matches. Let them at least have their names.

The princess eventually settled and suckled at her mother’s breast for a time before a nurse came in to take her to the nursery. Though the Keep kept some of the finest wet nurses in all Seven Kingdoms, his wife insisted on giving their child her first & last feedings every day. No exceptions. He knew she would make an excellent mother, even before their child had been born.

The nurse gathered the babe from his wife’s arms, kneeling down to let her kiss Amena’s soft crown, before she came over to Aemond and did the same. “Sleep well, riñītsos.” He whispered to her, before she was carried away and the two of them were left alone.

His wife sighed heavily once the door closed. Slouching and sliding down into her chair in a very relaxed, but undignified, manner. “So, what shall we do for the rest of our night husband?”

“I want another child.”

Understandably, his wife was surprised. It was not the response one would often expect to hear when asking how they should spend the evening before bed. Cards. Reading. Surely not perpetuating a dynasty. “Did I not just give you that one?”

Aemond chuckled as she pointed towards the door where the nurse had disappeared through. “Yes. You did. But I would like us to have another.”

“Really? And what brought on this sudden change in perspective?”

He doesn’t know if he should tell her that it was not a ‘sudden’ change in perspective. Since that night they conceived Amena, Aemond’s goal had been to fill his wife and their wing of the castle with children. He just didn’t realize how persistent the urge would be once they had one.

“I thought you wanted Amena to have siblings.”

“I do,” she agreed, which was a good start, “but I did not think you meant now. Perhaps when they are older. I just got my body back.”

His eye roamed over his wife’s figure. Back nearly to where it had been before and still beautiful, but he would be lying if he said he had not been thoroughly attracted to her those nine months she had been pregnant. Seeing her swell heavy with his child. Watching her body change. Her breasts grow heavy. It almost set Aemond to drool.

“I thought you said you liked being pregnant.” He reminded her, as he stood up and knelt in front of her chair. The heat from the fire on his back almost as hot as his gaze fixed on her.

He knew that pregnancy wasn’t easy. Seeing his mother, his sister, and now his own wife go through it, he was aware it was not the tranquil beauty & reverence people made it out to be. But he did not think his wife despised it. She commented often on how she loved carrying their child, even amidst the complaints.

“Well, it…was an experience…I did not hate it.” He could see her waver as he took her hand in his. Good. Aemond did not think of himself as the clever charmer, full of charisma, like his brother was, but he was not without his own Targaryen silver tongue.

“Do you not want to give Amena a brother?”

“Is that what this is about?” Aemond stopped kissing her fingers at the sharp shift in her tone and looked up at her. “You don’t want another child. You want a son?” His silver tongue might not be as polished as he thought.

When she had been pregnant, she had asked him what he was hoping for and Aemond said he did not care. Which had been true. Sons carry a man’s name, but when you have the name ‘Targaryen’ the point was moot. And, as an avid learner of history, he knew that there were some Targaryen women that carried the name higher & finer than some of the men. If Amena had been male, he would have rejoiced all the same. But clearly now his wife was thinking that maybe he had hoped for a son and been disappointed. That they could try again and ‘get it right’. That was not what he meant.

“No. I have no more of a wish for a son than daughter. We could have 15 princesses, it would not bother me.”

“15??” His wife repeated with a laugh. Her concern and ire waning quickly. “I am not giving you 15 children, of any variety.”

“But you’ll give me another one, eh?”

Aemond lifted up on his knees. Back to seducing his wife as he leaned in close to her. His lips brushed against hers softly, before they traveled down her jaw to her neck. His wife sighed in his ear. Sinking further into her chair as she tilted her head back. Relaxed and pliable under his touch.

He continued to kiss her while his hands moved to undo the lacings in the front of her evening gown. A sharp gasp came to his ear, followed by a moan, as his cool hands slithered in to touch her breast. They were sensitive and tender. She had told him as much. The newfound weight of them in his hands from what they had been before made him moan as well and a shiver raced down her spine when he pulled the gown down to expose them fully.

“Aemond….” She sighed out as he kissed along the edge of her breast. Imagining another babe of silver at her left since Amena seemed to favor her right.

“Let us to bed, issa jorrāelagon.”

His wife nodded eagerly and Aemond rolled up to his feet with all the grace his training allowed him, before he offered her his hand. She of course took it, and he pulled her to her feet and against him. Holding her there for a moment to look down at her before he gave her another kiss on the lips and led them to bed.

As they were already in their evening clothes, the matter of getting undressed was easy. Aemond laid his wife on the bed and was quick to catch her arm before it moved to cover herself. She had become shy about her body and being naked in front of him since giving birth. A trend he hoped would pass. He certainly had not given her any indication that he did not still find her desirable. His hard cock stroked against the interior of her thigh, just in case she needed further encouragement.

She moaned quietly as his member brushed against her soft skin, then leaned up to kiss him. Aemond is happy to meet her. Her lips are soft as well. He always thought that. Everything about her was soft in comparison to his hard lines and, well, everything. It was why they were perfect together. Why the world needed more of their two halves in one whole, to make it better & perfect as well.

“Open for me.” He told his wife as his fingers brushed against her thigh as well to spread them that little bit further to give him entry.

She does, and his fingers slid in to toy with her already damp sex. “See. You may lie, issa jorrāelagon, but this part of you cannot. You want me to put another babe in you, don’t you?”

“Aemond…” Her voice sighed out his name as her head tipped back whilst his fingers pressed in.

“You want another Targaryen fire in your belly, yes?”

“I just want you inside me, Aemond.” She insisted and he smirked.

“I will be. And I will be every night until we make a new scion, if you’ll have me.” His thumb brushed over her clit. Swollen and beaded out as his fingers continue to thrust inside her. His pretty wife bowed her back. Called his name and begged him to enter her. “Tell me true, wife.” He whispered in her ear as she was nearly close to crying with want. “Do you want me to fill you up with my seed and plant a new babe in your womb?”

“Yes!” She finally admitted. “Yes Aemond, I do! I want another babe. To give that to you. I want you to fuck another child into me like you did before! Please, please, give it to me Aemond!”

The prince gripped his wife’s hair and pulled her in for a hard kiss. A reward for her honesty. As he was doing that, he pulled his fingers from her cunt and lined his cock up to refill it. Sheathing all of him in her warmth in just a single thrust. “Hells Aemond!”

He gave her but a moment to adjust before he started thrusting into her. Those beautiful, full breasts of hers bouncing obscenely in front of him. His eye roaming down to her again flat stomach and imagining it full again, before traveling lower to where there sexes meet and watched his cock thrust hard to put a child into her.

“A-A-Aemond!” His wife cried out. Voice stammered by his thrusts. Hands clinging to the bedding as her legs wrapped around him.

“Not going to let me go, are you issa jorrāelagon.”

“Never.” She told him. With this look in her eyes that shot Aemond right to his soul.

He grabbed hold of her arm and flipped them up while they kissed. Her legs still wrapped around him as she was now seated neatly in his lap as he thrust up. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” The sweet words somehow tainted a little with all the wanton, animal panting between them, but no less meaningful. “Now give me our son.”

Aemond groaned. His back teeth grinding while his wife’s hips were grinding into his lap. He held her still and flush against him as his cock burst forth deep inside. She moaned sweetly against his ear as he filled her. Not letting go until he was sure every drop was inside his wife, then laid her down on the mattress. “Just the once, husband?”

“Do not tempt me, wife.” Aemond warned her. Both remembering the mad frenzy that had been their first bout to conceive. “Did you really mean it?” He asked when they were settled in bed for just sleep now. “Would you really want a son?”

The conversation earlier had led him to believe that she was not interested in one, but then her remark a moment ago made him question. Although Aemond was not fool enough to believe what a person said in the throws of passion anymore than what a person said when they had imbibed.

“Hmm…I have no opinion really.” She confessed. Settling into her spot on the bed between her pillow and his chest. “I know that is what everyone hopes for us. More Targaryen sons.” Aemond hummed once. He wouldn’t patronize his wife by telling her that that wasn’t true. “But, having one of each wouldn’t be so bad.” Aemond looked down at his wife just as she looked up at him. A shared moment between them. “I am not giving you 15 children though.”

Aemond smirked at her quip. “We shall see, now won’t we.”

*****

riñītsos: little one, little child

issa jorrāelagon: my love

Amena (origin, Arabic): meaning trustworthy, loyal, protected. [Not a Targaryen name but sounded pretty close, in my opinion]

[todays-xkcd]

Hint: If you ever encounter this puzzle in a crossword app, just [term for someone with a competitive and high-achieving personality].

A Crossword Puzzle [Explained]

Transcript

[A square 15x15 crossword puzzle is shown. Only 21 of the 225 squares are black. The black squares are in a pattern that are 180 degree rotationally symmetrical. Three black squares down from the 11th column and similarly three black squares up from the 5th column. Three black squares out from the right in row 7 and then two more black squares diagonally up from the end. Similarly three black squares out from the left in row 9 with two more black squares diagonally down from the end. A single black square is three above the first black square on the diagonal going down to the right and similarly there is a black square three under the first of the diagonal squares going down to the left. (Row 6 column 12 and Row 10 column 4). Finally there are three black squares on a diagonal crossing over the central point by going up from the left through the central point (Row 8 column 8). There are numbers at the top of every column (except the one that is a black square) and similarly at the left edge of all rows (except the one that is a black square). There are also numbers at the bottom of every black segment (except the one that reaches the bottom) and all rows after black segments except the one that reaches the right edge. In total all numbers from 1 to 51 is written. They are written in reading order from 1 to 51.]

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51

[Below the square there are two rows of clues for each number that belongs to across (rows) and to the right there are one row of clues for each number that belongs to down (columns). Both segments have an underlined and bold title above the clues. ]

'''Across'''

1. Famous Pvt. Wilhelm quote

11. IPv6 address record

15. "CIPHERTEXT" decrypted with Vigenère key "CIPHERTEXT"

16. 8mm diameter battery

17. "Warthog" attack aircraft

18. Every third letter in the word for "inability to visualize"

19. An acrostic hidden on the first page of the dictionary

21. Default paper size in Europe

22. First four unary strings

23. Lysine codon

24. 40 CFR Part 63 subpart concerning asphalt pollution

25. Top bond credit rating

26. Audi coupe

27. A pair of small remote batteries, when inserted

29. Unofficial Howard Dean slogan

32. A 4.0 report card

33. The "Harlem Globetrotters of baseball" (vowels only)

34. 2018 Kiefer song

35. Top Minor League tier

36. Reply elicited by a dentist

38. ANAA's airport

41. Macaulay Culkin's review of aftershave

43. Marketing agency trade grp.

44. Soaring climax of Linda Eder's ''Man of La Mancha''

46. Military flight community org.

47. Iconic line from ''Tarzan''

48. Every other letter of Jimmy Wales's birth state

49. Warthog's postscript after "They call me ''mister'' pig!"

50. Message to Elsa in ''Frozen 2''

51. Lola, when betting it all on Black 20 in ''Run Lola Run''

“Down

1. Game featuring "a reckless disregard for gravity"

2. 101010101010101010101010 [sub]2→16

3. Google phone released July '22

4. It's five times better than that ''other'' steak sauce

5. ToHex(43690)

6. Freddie Mercury lyric from ''Under Pressure''

7. Full-size Audi luxury sedan

8. Fast path through a multiple choice marketing survey

9. 12356631 in base 26

10. Viral Jimmy Barnes chorus

11. Ruby Rhod catchphrase

12. badbeef + 9efcebbb

13. In Wet Let's ''Ur Mum'', what the singer has been practicing

14. Refrain from Nora Reed bot

20. Mario button presses to ascend Minas Tirith's walls

24. Vermont historic route north from Bennington

26. High-budget video game

28. Unorthodox Tic-Tac-Toe win

29. String whose SHA-256 hash ends "...689510285e212385"

30. Arnold's remark to the Predator

31. The vowels in the fire salamander's binomial name

32. Janet Leigh ''Psycho'' line

34. Seven 440Hz pulses

37. Audi luxury sports sedan

38. A half-dozen eggs with reasonably firm yolks

39. 2-2-2-2-2-2 on a multitap phone keypad

40. .- .- .- .- .- .-

42. Rating for China's best tourist attractions

43. Standard drumstick size

45. "The rain/in Spain/falls main-/ly on the plain" rhyme scheme

[alchemistc]

won't make my mama proud

read on ao3

Buck's just gonna say it. He's not gonna be cagey about it. He's not gonna make it weird. Everyone important doesn't need an announcement, they'll - they'll see him, and they'll understand, and Buck will get to enjoy himself.

His parents are the wildcard.

"E- Buck," his mom starts, brow furrowed as she looks at the seating chart. She's getting better at catching herself, and it's small fries but it's not nothing. "Why did George get moved to table seven?"

He'd been a little giddy, sitting at Maddie's kitchen table with the seating chart out, the tips of his ears bright red and the smile refusing to leave his face, basking in the little hip-shake arm-wave dance Maddie'd done when he asked if she could fit a plus one in.

Buck honestly couldn't remember who they'd moved to make it work, but it'd made the most sense - Tommy knew Bobby and Athena, he knew Karen and Eddie and Marisol, he wouldn't have to sit with a table of strangers who didn't even know a "George" anyway.

His mom's eyes flit to the extended family table, where Tommy has been tucked in between Eddie and Denny. He'd made the place card himself, intent to match the script from the printers, tongue sticking out as he swooped the 'Y' out in gold Sharpie on a piece of leftover cardstock cut to match.

"Uh - I'm bringing a date, after all," Buck says, and he watches his mom slide through names, a mental list of people she vaguely knows of. The Marisol thing had been a point of contention - extended family meant family to Margaret and Phillip Buckley, and they'd already made an exception to let Chim include Eddie and his son at that particular table. They'd acted like the relationship to the bride and the groom was going to be hovering over the top of each table. So. She knows the name Marisol. She knows Athena and Bobby. Knows Karen.

The list of potential dates is growing smaller by the minute and clearly it's not computing.

He's just gonna rip the bandaid off. "His name is Tommy. My date."

Once upon a time, he'd have taken an opportunity like this to make sure he was the center of fucking attention for as long as he possibly could be. Maybe drive home the point that his parents didn't know him as well as they claimed they did. Definitely press their buttons, see if he could invite a reaction out of them.

Now he waves off his mother's confused silence. "I already ran it by Maddie and Chim, they know him." Sort of. It's too complicated to explain to his parents, right now. Maybe if the dancing goes well, at the reception. Maybe once he's snuck about fifty more kisses in.

"Buck, you can't bring a friend as a plus one to your sister's wedding."

He doesn't see why not, really, but that's - very much not the point. Oh. Oh yeah, that's a little painful. He gets why Tommy'd slammed the brakes, now, when he'd stuck his foot in it.

"Good thing he's my date, then, mom."

Even after all this time, he always feels like he's one bad interaction away from laying into his parents, but he tempers it. This isn't really about him, or them. This is about Maddie's wedding, which is two days away and doesn't need the distraction of the brides family having it out. Again.

"What do you mean?" she asks, and - her defensive voice always sounds like she's expecting a direct attack, teeth at her jugular and she's too frail to stop it. He's always hated the way she does that, because it always makes her sound like the victim of a heinous crime when half the time she's just trying to deny something she's been accused of.

Buck takes a deep breath through his nose. "Tommy. He's my date to the wedding. Once we've all eaten and toasted at the reception he'll be the one I'm getting drinks for, he'll be the one I'm introducing to Maddie's work friends, he'll be the one I'm dancing with." He'll be the one I'm going home with, Buck doesn't say, even if he really fucking wants to. He'd gotten a dick pic for the first time last night that had rocked his entire fucking world and he's very ready to explore the realities of finally understanding he's attracted to the male form in a sexual way.

She goes through what seems like all the stages of grief at once. Not unexpected, but still kinda shitty to witness. But she's - they're both better. His parents are trying. He'll give them that. She shores up a PTA mom smile.

"Oh. I didn't know you... Well I just didn't know."

"It's new," he says, because now doesn't feel like the time to tell her he's been analyzing old friendships for weeks now, that his penchant for trying to create deep bonds with men he admires has taken on a new meaning to him. He doesn't want to get into the conversation he'd had with Tommy two nights ago, Tommy laughing but understanding as Buck regaled him with the tale of how he'd followed the varsity kicker around like a lost puppy for most of his junior year and he'd only just figured out why. "Tommy used to work at the 118, though, so he's not exactly a stranger."

He doesn't really feel like giving her more than that. It's new to him, too, it's new and fragile and it's settling warm in his gut, this feeling like he finally knows the way to make a proper chili is to add some unsweetened cocoa powder. The recipe works without it but it was never quite right, until the secret ingredient got thrown in.

"You'll have to introduce us," his mom says, and Buck thinks about it - about the way Tommy will internalize the confused looks his parents try to hide, and the way Buck will want to curl tighter around him because of it, the way he'll want to shrink under the force of his parents never quite getting him and how he knows, he knows Tommy won't let him shrink.

"Yeah," he says, and his mind goes back to thinking of Tommy in a suit.

Tommy with a button undone that turns into three by the third song, Tommy fiddling with cufflinks, Tommy with suspenders, Tommy's ass in a pair of crisp tapered trousers. Buck wonders if he's an ankle sock with dress shoes guy.

His mom turns back to her trove of little gift bags, plastic crinkling as she ties another finished one off. He's - it feels a bit like he's waiting for a shoe to drop, sitting there next to her as her hands continue to pull jute twine from its roll in even six inch lengths, cutting them, twisting bags and tying them off.

Their hands meet the next time he slides a pile of filled bags over to her -- a bubble jar, three Jordan almonds, four Kisses, a quarter inch of crinkle paper on the bottom. Buck goes to move his hand back and her soft, wrinkled hand reaches out to pat his knuckles before she returns to her twine.

-----

He picks up Tommy's call when he's halfway home. "Hey," he says, and he knows Tommy can hear the smile in his voice. He can't bring himself to care.

"Hey. Did you already eat at your sisters?"

"No, my parents took Jee out to dinner so Maddie and Chim could have the night before Maddie imposes her weird twenty-four hour no contact rule."

"You Buckley's," Tommy says, and there's something fond in his voice that makes Buck's heart squeeze, just a bit. "I know I'll see you tomorrow night, but I thought, if you're not busy --."

"I'm not busy," Buck interrupts, and Tommy's little chuff of a laugh echoes back at him.

"Maybe I'm about to ask you to detail my truck for me."

Buck's still trying to find the right way to word his thoughts about armor-all and gear shafts when Tommy cuts across them.

"Low hanging fruit, Evan," he warns, even though he can't have possibly known what Buck was thinking.

"I was thinking about the twig, not the berries," Buck shoots back, and Tommy groans.

"You have sufficient evidence not to call it a twig."

"Which is why I was trying to compare it to the gear shift, before you derailed that train of thought."

"Do you wanna come over for dinner or not, Evan Buckley?"

Buck taps his thumbs on the steering wheel, does a little jig in his seat, tries not to smile so wide that he scares the driver next to him as he coasts to a stop at a red light.

"Are the berries on the menu?"

"The stick shift too, if you're lucky."

"This metaphor is getting a little murky."

"If you wanted to stop for shitty burgers I wouldn't mind," Tommy admits, voice softening, and Buck is already trying to plot out the best route to In-N-Out from here to Tommy's. "If you think of a way to make an Animal Style innuendo you are not getting into my pants tonight."

"I'll stick with the hot meat puns, then."

Tommy laughs, bright and loud, goofy like he can't quite control it, and Buck settles into his seat, flipping his blinker to get into the turn lane so he can double back a few blocks.

"You far enough away I can hop in the shower without telling you where I keep my hide-a-key?"

"Yeah, but maybe you should tell me anyway."

Tommy hums, and something settles under Buck's skin when Tommy gives him a frankly ridiculous set of instructions that no first responder is ever gonna follow in an emergency when they could just kick the door in, dispatch instructions be damned.

It's far too early in this, but Buck's pretty sure he's deep enough in this that it wouldn't weird him out if Tommy told him to keep the spare. He doesn't, and Buck doesn't mind, but it's there, in the back of his mind, that feeling like they're both in this for the long haul.

"Hey, I told my mom you're coming as my plus one," Buck says into the comfortable silence that drifts over the line. Tommy knows the bare minimum about his family, really, but he knows that's significant all the same.

"How did that...go?" And Buck keeps forgetting that Tommy wasn't always confidently out, that he's experienced the coming out conversation with a lot worse results than Buck's experienced, so far.

"She was mostly weirded out that you made George move to table seven," Buck jokes, because he's not sure he's fully unpacked how he feels about it yet, and Tommy - Tommy gets that.

"If I'm stepping on toes, I don't mind sitting with all the weird singles and estranged aunts, Evan," Tommy assures, for the twentieth time.

"You're sitting with the people I want you to be sitting with," Buck reminds him, and hopes he understands the part of that that Buck doesn't know how to say out loud yet.

"Noted," he says, that same tone as when he met Buck for coffee, a few weeks ago now, the weight of understanding the things between the lines.

"Go shower," Buck tells him, and tries not to let his imagination run too wild at the thought. "I'll see you in a bit."

Tommy doesn't immediately respond, and Buck can imagine him on the other side of the call, debating whether or not to make the dumb joke about detailing his gear stick himself. He clearly has better impulse control than Buck. "See you soon," he says after a beat, and hangs up before Buck can draw him back in.

[saturdaynightfrightclub]

DC’s penchant for creating characters with black hair and blue eyes presents a really funny opportunity. Especially when so many of said characters being of similar ages to Bruce’s children.

I think a lot of them have been mistaken as actually being Bruce’s kids by tabloids.

I like to think it started with Donna Troy. Who would hang out around a young Dick Grayson-Wayne. Would hang out with young Dickie Wayne a lot. To the point that the paparazzi took notice, and started to speculate on the nature of their relationship.

Which abruptly ended when an overzealous reporter confronted the pair as they left a movie demanding info on the nature of their relationship and when they had started dating.

To which Donna had laughed and waved them off saying: “Dick is my brother!”

English was not Donna Troy’s first language. She didn’t realize that by omitting the word like (as in: Dick is like my brother) she had caused a media uproar. Because everyone knew that Dick Grayson was Brucie Wayne’s son, his little boy. But the insinuation that he had two children?

They take one look at this tall, gorgeous young woman with black hair and blue eyes. And then look at the young boy beside her, also with black hair and blue eyes. It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to believe that Bruce had adopted two children who bore passing resemblance to him, if not fathered the pair himself.

It was Outrageous. It was Insane. It was Deliciously juicy gossip.

(Dick could have corrected them. But he actually thought Bruce trying to explain away another kid to be really, really funny.)

The papers go crazy for the idea of Bruce Wayne: Family man and suddenly all anyone wants to interview him about is his two kids! Donna and Dick!

Bruce had expected this, having been aware of Donna’s slip-up. But he didn’t refute it, because it really was a bit funny. Instead he spouts off proudly about his two kids, relaying stories of Donna growing up (which he had originally heard from Diana). It’s harmless, something to feed the papers and expand upon his Brucie Wayne persona.

After all, it’s not like he actually intends to adopt any children besides Dick.

But. . . Then there’s Jason. With his dark curls and big blue eyes who talk at length about how cool his “big sister” is. And never mentions his “big brother” except to pout at the mention of Dick Grayson’s name.

And for a while Bruce is believed to have three children.

Except after Jason, there’s Tim Drake.

Tim, who (having sustained a serious concussion) one day panicked and proclaimed a confused Conner Kent as his brother. Upping Bruce’s supposed children count to five.

Later he offhandedly mentions a Billy and Freddie. The media goes nuts with the notion that Bruce has two more sons hidden away somewhere. Seven children, six boys and one girl.

The papers sympathize with Donna’s apparent status as eldest and only daughter of Bruce Wayne.

This doesn’t last long, as soon afterwards Bruce is introducing his daughter Cassandra to the public. Shes often seen with a blonde young woman who goes by Stephanie, and the pair have tabloids speculating that Bruce has branched away from his obsession with adopting blue eyed, black haired children.

Years after that, there’s yet another young boy. With browned skin and green eyes, he looks exactly like a young Bruce Wayne with different colors. Another child to Bruce’s family. And after that, there’s Duke Thomas joining the fray.

And then one day a reporter stops a pair of boys outside of school one day and asks Damian Wayne about his friend, one Jon Kent. Wanting a story about how the children of the elite differ in terms of making friends from “normal” children. Damian scoffs at the question and asks the reporter if he’s so incompetent he can’t recognize both of Bruce Wayne’s sons.

The media goes nuts for this.

Bruce Wayne; single father to twelve kids.

Lois laughs so hard she cries that Christmas, when she opens a card from the Waynes that prominently features Bruce surrounded by not just his own children, but her brother-in-law, Connor, and her son Jon. Clark complains that Bruce is stealing his kids.

Diana frames the card. It really is a good picture, and Donna looks amazing.

[sunboki]

— BRIGHTER PLACES. a Lee Felix fiction

Chef! Lee Felix x gn. reader

TROPE. cooking class au, childhood friends to lovers, reader is burnt out and slightly depressed, coincidences, fluff, angst

WARNINGS. mentions of depression/depressive episodes, mentions of unrequited love, burn out, reader is used by her boss, felix is the biggest sweetheart to exist

AUG'S NOTES. was intended to be posted much earlier than this but i’m still glad that, with life being so busy, i managed to finish it! this piece is only the start of many emotional pieces over the summer so stay tuned please! hopefully you enjoy 🫶🏼

SYNOPSIS. Thrown asunder beneath crushing assignments, work, and the fleeting hope your “young and free” twenties experience may someday happen, you had yet to realize said experience was right around the corner. Whisked into a mixture of unearthed feelings and past occurrences, presented with a cherry on top by renowned Chef Lee Felix.

or alternatively :

Eventually, the sun will shine again.

Out of any gift you’ve received, you thought the treehouse in your backyard was the most memorable. It seemed like, in this vast universe, everything was right.

Then it wasn’t, then it was. Again and again. A repetitive cycle.

However, your overcast days did have an expiration date, and sunshine would eventually show itself again.

You just weren’t aware yet.

.

.

.

At seven years old, you would spend hours daydreaming, inviting friends, taking naps, and reading in your treehouse. Oftentimes, during the long days of summer, you’d eat lunch up there; lost in this secluded world only you knew about.

When you’re younger, every little thing appears peach-tinted.

The warm fire of a candle on a nightstand, setting dull objects ablaze with its brightness. Shadow puppets, dance parties. So ordinary yet exceptional all the same. Easy to configure from a developing mind as something excellent, fantastical.

Your twenties don’t envelop a hazy glow. Mind now hardened, treehouse still lingering (more like rotting) in the backyard of your parents house, things are more serious, less inviting.

Who knew adulthood would be this lonesome.

Walking from a bar, you fail to appreciate the hum of music from a buzzed radio, the wafting smell of Italian food hidden somewhere in the midst of neon signs and outdoor eateries.

Instead, priorities had lodged themselves indefinitely far into your soul, drowning out the voice telling you you’re you, not the expectations you’re held to.

Further and further did you drift into that intoxicating headspace, until someone—or, in your case, something—had to pull you out.

That something being a cooking—well, baking class. This weekend, an hour and a half. Menu: The Ideal Donuts.

“Think of it as a release,” Sana had told you, this wide, excited smile etching the skin of her face.

Immediately, you wanted to hand it back to her, tell the eccentric best friend of yours to spend such an occasion on herself instead.

Yet, you knew better than to try negotiating with Sana, the girl who has been present through your ugliest moments, who you’ve cried to more times than able to count.

Your intention wasn’t an attempt to make your life as miserable as possible. In fact, each day you strived for a resource, an indication things would grow better, as better as it seemed to be for everyone else.

Though you can only stretch a rubber band so far, and once it reaches its farthest extent, it snaps.

And the recoil stings.

“Okay, thank you.” You respond after a beat of silence, lips pulled into a tight line, investigating the information written on the card.

She pats your shoulder, a sweet smile worn upon pink lipstick.

Lee’s Baking Class.

Lee. The name sounds familiar.

Awkward. Everybody has their awkward moments, but you’re certain this one takes the cake. 

The entirety of the class had fallen still, engulfed in a silence you can feel gathering in your chest, sending nausea building like bile in your throat.

His brown eyes merely blink, ignorant to your inner turmoil.

Lee Felix’s brown eyes, shining like muddy globes, seem to encapsulate every ounce of affection. Affection you once had for him, affection you refuse to unearth if it costs your life. 

Perhaps that's the stem of the awkwardness—harbored feelings.

How awful. 

Just your luck.

“Y/N?”

It even sounds worse falling from his lips. Sweet, just like he is, Felix is. 

Felix has always been sweet, always inviting. Seems you accepted without realizing you were never invited to the party.

Staring like a deer caught in headlights, it takes the man clearing his throat for you to acknowledge your position. 

“You can uh, find a seat if you’d like?”

‘You can shoot me if you’d like’ you think, very much grateful mind readers don’t exist.

Nodding profusely and scurrying to the nearest table out of the four aligned throughout the room, you find yourself paired with three elderly ladies who quarrel in rabid conversation about baking powder—though it doesn’t bother you, the frenzied chatter leaves leeway to think.

As memorable as the treehouse was, it was also memorable for.. Other reasons as well. One reason in particular being that it wasn’t always just you reading and daydreaming up there, but Lee Felix too.

Since primary school the two of you had been conjoined at the hip. Between friendly rivalries and the fact he was your neighbor, there wasn’t a two day period you weren’t together. 

And with that, came a crush. 

But it was different with Felix, different because just as you’d been conjoined to the hip as friends, this time, you were still conjoined, but he was your crush.

And it’s a whole lot easier playing off a crush when you aren’t with them 24/7.

Before you knew it, you had fallen head over heels in love. To a degree you realized you can’t, can’t do what you’ve always done, can’t pretend your feelings are nonexistent any longer.

So you fled. 

The moment high school began, you located the furthest place available and begged your parents to let you attend. It wasn’t that you hated Felix, more than anything you hated yourself for falling in love–not that it could be helped. 

No matter how illogical you deemed it, your heart would prove stronger. Maybe that was your epitome.

Your number one priority had been avoiding him thus far, and you thought you were doing a pretty decent job at it, using the excuse that high school offered better opportunities to mask your internal guilt, and staying on that side of the city when you graduated.

Nonetheless, it seems the effort was in vain, especially now that you’re facing him again.

No. You refuse to dwell on the past, not when you’ve made it this far.

In front of you sits all the necessary utensils. Measuring cups and spoons, coordinating bowls, and the ingredients included as well. 

Thank goodness for that, you were scared you’d mess up and Felix would have to step in. Plus, the rules of this game came easy. Participate without contact and leave with a sweet treat in hand.

Except, you’re quick to understand those rules of the game may only apply in your case by the gaze boring into your back.

Great.

“I didn’t anticipate a young lady being so aggressive,” A voice to your right piques, surveying the furious manner in which you’re cracking an egg into the bowl.

Delivering a small smile and claiming you’re simply absorbed in your work, collective laughter sounds from the older women in response.

Taking a thirty minute break while the dough chills, you welcome conversation with anybody and everybody, attempting to evade the blond’s attempt at reaching out.

Way to be a jerk, Y/N. 

But, in the end, avoidance is the right course of action.

You can’t afford love, you’re too broke already as a student.

During the times he isn’t circulating, you spare periodic glances, marveling at those charming features of his, still the same as when you were younger but slightly more mature, sharper. Effortlessly kissable raspberry-tinged lips purse when he explains things, helping the participants knead dough with ring-clad fingers. That one’s new: rings.

The third time, you were caught, panickedly looking away as if an accident.

“Y/N I–” 

Speeding past while pretending to be occupied with checking the refrigerator holding your table’s donuts, his words become choked watching as you flee in the other direction, hand returning to his side where it extended to you.

You manage to survive the last few minutes unscathed, awaiting the sugary goodness lying just below your fingertips after hastily nodding to Felix in thanks and following the remainder of the class outside.

Success.

Or, whilst fetching your keys and finding where you had parked your car, so you thought.

Steam billows from your car's hood, refusing to even turn on while individuals alike grant you pitying simpers and continue on their exit.

Spoke too soon.

Even worse, your instructor, the man you thought you could run from after all, happens to walk out at that moment, witnessing your real-time destruction.

Not a success.

This was utter failure at the highest degree.

“So.. How’ve you been?”

“Fine.”

“How’s college?”

“Fine. ..And you?’

How you ended up in Lee Felix’s passenger seat is beyond you.

Well, not really. You just hate admitting you took the ride home he offered after your car broke down in the parking lot. In your defense, according to him, he already had to drop by the grocery store nearby.

It’s like an interrogation, your replies quick and unenthusiastic, his unwavering in enthusiasm, unyielding to the coldness you’re giving him.

Like you said, it wasn’t your intention hurting his feelings, nor being spiteful or brash. It was your coping mechanism.

This is how you got over him, or, how you’d like to say you got over him.

“Pretty busy, but I’m managing. How about you? I couldn’t get in contact, but I’m sure you got tons of offers, yeah?”

Seeing his face again didn’t help with the “getting over” part.

..Or the guilt at the “no contact” part either.

“Easy for you to say, you’re the successful one who got scouted by a culinary arts school.” The remark coming out spiteful, you scorn yourself. 

That’s another thing. Lee Felix is totally out of your league. 

He’ll always be number one, and you’ll always be second place. And not in an inferiority complex way, but in an honest way.

Felix chased his dreams to the end of the earth and got what he deserved out of it, and you thought you were doing the same, only to realize you were chasing him instead and leaving your own aspirations behind.

But that’s on you, not him, and you’ll likely spend the rest of your life wondering how you became so enamored in the first place.

Of course he wears that tear-worthy frown, periodically directing his attention to you while driving, face filled with overflowing concern.

How could anybody not fall in love with him?

“Y/N, you know that’s not true. I may have been scouted, but that doesn’t make me any better than anyone else. We’ve all worked hard to get where we are now, you included.”

Curse how weak you are for him. Why should he reassure you? You’re the prick that left him after countless years together, why is he consoling you?

Easy. He’s Felix. 

Before anything else, he’s loving. Felix is the embodiment of love in an individual. He’s self-sacrificing (a trait you swear Chan gave to him), caring, and the most unbearably adorable mother-hen.

And you’re not even close to getting over him.

Street names pass in a blur, leaving a lengthy silence to consume the drive. You distract yourself with a flickering traffic light in need of fixing, watching the man’s finger tap against the wheel to a song on the radio in your peripheral before he speaks again.

“..Do you still talk to Chris?”

His voice, a pleasing baritone now that he speaks slowly, surprises you for a moment.

“Yep.”

Even then you refuse to turn toward him, coming to a halt at a stop sign and simultaneously dreading the manner in which he dips his head lower.

“Hey.. Are you okay?”

You feel like throwing up.

“During the class you–”

“My stop is here.”

The words come out before you can comprehend them, too worried about distancing yourself to care that this is in fact not your stop and a random street instead.

Though hesitantly, he pulls the vehicle to the side.

“But there’s no houses nearby–”

“No, this is perfect,” You pitch, quickly unbuckling and opening up the door. “Thank you, Felix.”

Oh how you wish you never said that, wish you never made eye contact.

He makes you want to scream and cry and dig up all those stupid feeling’s you’d buried in the ground.

Pulling your clothing closer to your body as the evening cools, you grace him a ghost of a smile, shutting the car door and hurrying down the sidewalk while feebly attempting to locate how far your place would be from here.

Yet, he doesn’t drive past you.

Evidently unconvinced but failing to say it aloud, you fight off the warmth heating your face as his car rolls right beside you, following your hasty footsteps while walking.

“Are you sure this is your stop? It’s getting cold!” He shouts, leaning over from his seat to regard you.

This is it. When you had sworn your embarrassment couldn't get any more pathetic.

“I.. I’m fine! Just go!” You shout back, arms waving haphazardly like an embarrassed middle schooler until he finally (and begrudgingly) steers ahead of you, car disappearing in the distance.

At least that’s over. 

And yet, it feels like it’s just the beginning. You simply can’t explain why.

However, your main focus remains upon getting to safety. Safety being home.

The word has never sounded this pleasing before now.

So after thirty minutes running in circles to find your complex, you’re granted that much wanted safety, snuggled up in your cushions and turning on a show with evident delight in the mismatched pair of pajama pants and a hole-scattered top hanging off your shoulder. 

No more Felix thinking, it’s time to relax. 

What a joy.

Well, before your bottomless Pringle’s can abruptly spawns a bottom, hand frantically scurrying in search for more to no avail.

This is the peak of your show! How could someone possibly imagine viewing the climax without coordinating snacks? 

And just when you thought you had ultimately settled, you’re thrown into a torrential debate, one that, after much contemplation (and pacing) across the cold tile of your kitchen, sends you huffing and puffing to the nearest convenience store.  

Slipping past the sliding doors toward the designated aisle, you had yet to realize who else was roaming around the store.

A peculiar blond being that someone else.

It’s when you turn the corner to check out that you practically ram into each other, fear striking every fiber of your being, his eyes equally wide, but more puzzled than terrified—unlike you. 

“Besides, I need to run to the grocery store afterward.”

Crap.

Granted, the probability he lived nearby was likely. 

He's not required to stay a 300 meter radius from you anyway, so getting anxious about this shouldn’t be an issue. You’ll simply (hopefully not) say hi and be on your way.

Except, like most endeavors in your life so far, it is an issue. 

Because one, you’ve positively blasted your chances of avoidance after the entire car experience (which, frankly, you genuinely debate death because of) and two, he’s.. apparently following you.

Wait, he’s following you?

He, as in: Lee Felix, who ultimately fails at being nonchalant. Walking a few paces behind you, eyes quite obviously trained on your figure.

After your frantic rush past him while darting through self-checkout, the footsteps behind you do little to quell your heart’s rapid pace, only worsening with each passing second. 

You aimlessly ignore the sweat oiling your palms, pretending to be occupied with reading a label on your drink, hoping he’ll eventually look away.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he stays right on your tail, enough that while you break into a run through your door, he follows, jarring a foot in the door just as you begin slamming it shut.

Stalker, much?

Wielding the nearest weapon available in a panic, you’re frantic, whacking the unfortunate Pringle’s container with all your might toward the man.

“How.. How are you that fast– Ow! Ow ow- Wait- Y/N-”

Cowering down and covering his head with his arms while you furiously batter the man, it isn’t till a few specific words catch your attention that you stop.

“Your—“ Whack. “Car—“ Whack. “Was finished in the shop!”

Your what?

Hesitantly lowering his arms, Felix wears a sheepish smile, regarding your evidently frazzled, very much frantic appearance.

“For twenty minutes I’ve been trying to tell you.. your car is ready.. in the shop,” He breathes, doubling over with exhaustion. 

Meanwhile, you’re still recovering from your own exhaustion. An exhaustion that urged the realization you just beat up your lifelong love interest with a box of Pringles.. who is now in your house.

Lee Felix. In your house.

What a joy.

“....I’m sorry about your head.”

“No, I shouldn’t have intruded like that.”

You cover your face with your hands, wishing nothing more than to melt into a puddle.

“Are you-” He tips his head down, that kindly confused expression of his no help to your pounding heart. “Are you alright?”

Through your wallowing, your ears burn, voice muffled whilst practically drowning in misery.

“Give me a minute, I’m so embarrassed right now.”

It doesn’t help that he laughs afterward. A low, vocal laugh that rumbles in his throat and does little for your mental health.

Placing the discarded can back on a nearby countertop, you jolt when his fingers wrap around your wrists, gently ushering your hands from your face.

“But I was serious about what I said. Y/N, are you okay?”

Oh how tender he refers to you. Careful, quiet. As if too high of a pitch and his voice will shatter the air. You don’t mind.

Because in all honesty, you haven’t been okay. Nothing has been okay. It feels like you’re working, but what for? You’ve lost the sense of purpose from when you graduated, slowly but surely watched your motivation diminish right before your eyes. 

And you couldn’t do anything about it.

Chasing your tail in circles, round and around and around again has led you right to what you tried to run from in the first place. 

Him; the truth.

And yet, unlike earlier today, you can’t bring yourself to push him away, to ask him to leave. You savor his touch, even if it only lingers on your wrists.

Save me, your skin cries against his grip.

Luckily, Felix joins you in your wavelength, giving you permission to indulge in the abyss of his eyes, fall into the warmth and comfort the past brought in the safety of his arms. 

“Felix?” You verbalize, fragmented bits and pieces of life hidden within the words, muffled against the skin of his neck.

You missed Felix, but you’re starting to think you missed his hugs more.

“Yes?”

“I missed you.”

“Really? How much?”

You want to punch his gut, but you can’t will yourself to move.

“Too much.”

He chuckles, carefully pulling away.

“I have to head out, ‘got work early tomorrow. I can drop you off at the dealership when you’re free?”

Yes. This time, you can say yes. 

Your feelings will never change from how they always were, especially when it comes to Felix. That’s something you have to accept. 

Perhaps tomorrow you’ll get to see him again. 

Or perhaps you’ll wake up in your bed in a few seconds and all of this will be a dream. 

When he turns his back, you pinch yourself to make sure.

All real. 

“Thanks, that’d be great.”

Right before he closes your door, you call out to him again.

“And Felix?”

“Mhm?”

“..Call me when you’re done with work. I’ll pick up this time so… tell me all about those seven years apart.”

At this, he nods—and it’s sort of bittersweet seeing him leave, because this time you know you’ll see him again.

And, though you try, your attempt at sleeping proves useless—caught up in your head after quickly settling in bed, deciding to save everything else for another day.

The ceiling serves as your main muse, eyes unblinking whilst staring upward.

What is Felix doing right now? Your attention flits, scowling to yourself at how much you sound like a clingy girlfriend. 

Could you blame yourself though? You’re like a child waiting for Christmas presents. Except, this Christmas you’re unwrapping years upon years of time apart. 

Fortunately, after a multitude of hours awake, sleep beckons. And as if a split second later, with the morning sun lighting up your room and stirring you awake do you receive a call.

You planned to ignore and roll over, but it’s a specific someone on your mind that urges you to fetch the device.

“Hello?”

“Hey, what’re you up to?”

“Getting away from you,” You groan, pretending not to hear Chris’s chiding that it isn’t healthy to sleep till noon.

And although you were gonna use last night’s experience as an excuse, you decided against it, hoping sooner or later he’d hang up without any more questions.

“Wait.”

Your silence serves as a sign to continue.

“If he’s sleeping next to you right now—”

“No! No Chris what- where did you hear— what?”

Unable to process how he knew about Felix or if he was talking about Felix in the first place, you leave it to the audibly disheveled man to explain himself. 

“Look, I can explain. Sana told me she saw Felix go into your house last night, what was that about?”

Curse how Sana lives so close by. 

“Well, for the record, Dad, he didn’t sleep over. We just uh, talked, like adults do.”

Chris exhales a baffled guffaw.

“Like adults do? Never thought I’d hear that from you.”

“I’m full of surprises, what can I say.”

An additional silence ensues, awkwardly tapping your finger on the mattress.

“We um.. we were catching up.”

The man on the other side of the line grins. You can practically see it through the phone.

“..When you said that, you sounded really happy just now.”

“Huh?”

“When you talked about Felix, you sounded really happy. That’s good.”

You study the ceiling a second time, feeling a small smile and tug at your lips.

“He’s good to keep around y’know.”

Rolling your eyes and adjusting your position to face the window, you stretch your arms over your head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

You hear the ignition of his car in the distance.

“Whatever you want it to mean,” He chuckles. “I’m glad you got to see him though, I better contact him again now that you mention it, ‘need the Aussies to get together. Call you later?”

“Sure, bye Chris.”

Hanging up and collapsing onto your pillow, you yawn dramatically, gradually rising to your feet to open the blinds.

Then does it register to you this is the most enthusiastic you’ve ever been in a while—especially talking to a Chris—and not intentionally either. 

All of which comes down a single name, the one you were reminded to keep around.

Lee Felix. 

Picking up your phone, you make another call.

You

I’m on the way

Felix

(Felix liked your message)

I’ll be there as fast as I can!! Sorry, ran out of flour last night 😔

You

It’s all good, what’re you baking?

Felix 

Banana cake, want a slice?

You

Yes please!

Redirecting your attention back to the road, you’re careful not to miss the exit this time (as you’ve done endless times in the past). 

Almost to the café you planned to eat at with Felix, your phone lights up once more.

Yet, you forgot to check the number—your good mood diminishing instantly.

“Hey Fel—“

“Y/N, I need you in the office.”

Considering this is your boss you’re talking to, you pull into the parking lot, able to see Felix through the window—dressed to an unbearably handsome degree. 

“But today is my day off, I don’t clock in on Saturday’s,” Relaying the statement, your eyes narrow at the screen.  

“Well you’re going to have to. The office knows how capable you are. we need somebody like you here—we can count on you Y/N.”

You’ve been counting on me, for everything. 

That familiar weight settles into your chest, more and more pressure building at a nefarious level. You feel sick to your stomach, wanting nothing more than to drop the call and walk inside into work-free air.

However, you can’t. This job holds you down (in multiple ways), it’s stable, and provides good income—you can’t afford to drop it. 

But what are you supposed to say to Felix?

Everything feels too overwhelming at the moment, your lungs feel like exploding, using all your willpower to say something.

“..Okay. I’ll be there soon.”

And you hang up, gripping the steering wheel like a vice. 

It’s always like this. The moment you have a good thing, not even a day later everything falls apart. 

Never lasts.

You

Sorry, I can’t make it, work called.

Felix 

But haven’t you worked a lot this week? Why not take today off?

You 

Can’t, see you another time

How selfish, you tell yourself, throwing your phone as far from you as possible.

The moment you get the chance to see him again, he slips out of your fingertips. Or in this case, you let him slip away.

Watching him glance around, delicious slice of banana cake kept in a cute tin in front of him feels heart-wrenching. And you quite literally are the worst person in the world at this very moment. 

Each key your fingers press adds to the exhaustion in your bones, growing greater each inhale and exhale your take, eyes scouring the computer screen.

Being in the office is stifling. You’re trapped in a box, a box that shrinks closer and closer every second, caging you in without hopes of escaping. 

This is your prison, the jail cell you didn’t realize you’d been stuck in till it was too late.

An entire library of documents pile at the foot of your desk, your head aching incessantly. So once the hour hand strikes 10pm, you trudge out the door, more than happy to be in the safety of your car. 

Then you slip, and it all comes crashing down.

As if he read your mind, the one person you’ve been longing for takes over your screen, and your index shakes pressing the green button.

“..Felix.”

The words tumble out, tiny candies filling an already full jar. Too much that the lid can’t even fit on.

“Stay where you are, I’m driving to you right now.”

His response earns a stifled sob, your fist bunching the fabric of your clothing, feebly attempting to calm the incessant beating—seeming to render your lungs with meager air.

No other sentence is spoken even with him on the other line, not until headlights pour over the expanse of your dash—until Felix nearly rips your car door off its hinges to reach you in the driver’s seat.

One hand on your head, the other on your back, he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug, your second one in three days. 

It’s all you need. All you’ve ever needed, actually. 

Another heartbeat with yours, your calm before the storm that kept the calm, to know you aren’t alone in your suffering, that you can suffer together.

Ah, you can breathe.

“All these years and you’re still an awful liar.”

You simply squeeze him tighter, the blond’s laughter shaking either of you. 

Guess a single taste can lead to addiction. 

“I hate crying in front of people,” You sniffle, cringing back after seeing his shirt’s tear-stained fabric.

“Lucky for you,” Felix tuts, gathering your face in his hands, smiling. “I’m not people, just Felix.”

You roll your eyes, swollen condition of your eyes and cheeks not helping the irritable portrayal.

“I’m sorry, Lix, I’m so sorry. I wanted to see you so bad but work called and they keep piling—“

“Shush.” 

He presses a finger against your lips.

“For one second, don’t think about work,” He exhales, face pursed in focus, fingers smoothing the crease lines of your brows. 

“I know you’ve been overworking yourself. I’m not your best friend for no reason,” Felix sheepishly smiles, hand slipping from by your forehead down to your cheek, stroking the skin there softly. 

Again and again, he watches you break. 

Then, he picks you up all over again.

“Can you.. can you understand my frustration? It feels like everyone loves their jobs, but in the end, no matter what I do, I’m stuck in this constant cycle of hell. I can’t escape Felix, I can’t escape.”

Your voice dons into that of panic, into an hysterical fit of tears and rapid breathes, only able to focus back on the man before you after he shouts your name for the fourth time.

“Nuh-uh, no crying. The world isn’t ending, so no tears, hm?” Thumbs smoothing the flush of your under-eyes, he pulls you to his chest, hand gently rubbing your back while another cards through your hair.

“..Are you my mom or something?” You croak irritably.

Felix shakes with another bout of laughter.

“No.”

He slightly pushes you back where you can see his face, brows creasing in a focused, serious manner.

“I’m Felix, your best friend, remember? And I don’t want my friend to cry, she has too pretty of a face for that.”

“But what if her world’s ending?”

“I won’t let that happen.”

And the building blocks are stacked once more, barely able to hear his voice amidst your heart, forging itself free of its cage, your ribs.

“Y/N, look at me angel.”

Of course you follow, you know you always will.

“You aren’t required to cater to everybody, you can’t cater to everybody, no matter how hard you try. You’re human, and humans need to do human things, they need to live, experience exciting experiences. That’s how you make the little time we have here worthwhile.”

He tips your chin up, placing a kiss to your forehead.

“So don’t cage yourself up, please. And,” His voice gets cut off, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. 

Debating, thinking.

“Let me help you fall in love with life again.”

As if I’m not already in love with you. 

If only you knew the same thing occurred in his head as well.

Felix drove you home, and for a second, over the span of a week, it seemed as if everything was finally back to normal.

Then you received a call from such a man, on your beloved Sunday afternoon, asking a rather whimsical sort of question you never anticipated. 

No, you exaggerated.

“Are you free tonight?” 

Oh. Oh.

Staring at the assortment of DVD’s scattered around on your comforter, you act as if you’re oh so busy instead of planning to rot watching Dead Poet’s Society for the thousandth time.

“Uhhh think so, why?”

Felix clears his throat.

“Well, my baking place wants you— no, I want you, no, wait—“

Your heart speeds up at the sudden confession, bursting into laughter as he sputters over his words like a child. 

“Will you.. meet me at the bake shop? If you can’t it’s fine I mean I’m sure you’re preoccupied-“

“No!” You shout, not intending to be so loud, shrinking in on yourself. “I mean, no, I’ll be there. Give me ten minutes.”

Well, ten minutes might’ve been a stretch considering how animalistically you lunge at your hamper, sorting through clothing despite being aware Felix has likely seen every single one of your outfits a million times before

Doesn’t help this is pretty much an unofficial date. Or, hopefully those were his intentions.

Regardless, you don’t plan on wasting a chance like this again.

Standing on the sidewalk, hands situated in the pockets of a midnight black jean jacket paired with coordinating slacks is Felix, his face breaking into a smile upon seeing you.

Catching up with the man, you walk by his side, listening to him talk about meeting up with Chris days prior, about business. 

It’s comforting, this small talk. And for a second, you swear you never left at all.

“And then I told him Vegemite was obviously the better choice but he…”

Words halting, you look to where his attention had been stolen, finding an old woman lingering outside the shop the two of you planned to enter. She wasn’t one of the ladies you’d seen before in your group.

Cautiously approaching the woman, it takes multiple clears of his throat for Felix to grasp her attention.

“Excuse me Miss?” He offers, allowing the woman to grab his hands with her wrinkled ones, eyes squinted to assess his face. “Would you like some help? I’m the owner of this shop.”

Slowly, a small smile stretches her face upward, wrinkles forming around her mouth like the petals of a flower.

“Why.. Why yes, young man. I’m in need of more brown sugar.”

Felix perks up at the request, and you follow them inside with your own smile, cherishing his warmth, his gentleness.

Leaning against the unmanned reception, you find the longer you stare at him describing each ingredient to the old woman, the greater that feeling in your stomach grows, eyes becoming watery. 

Felix, in his loving, patient glory, is the sun. 

He casts his rays over your garden, blooming once wilted flowers.

Forever ago, you believed the two of you sat on entirely opposite hemispheres. He received the day, and you, in your unchanging seasons, eternally remained shrouded in night.

Yet, you forgot the earth tilted on an axis for a reason. And, with time, the sun would rise again.

Lamps briefly illuminating the woman’s exit while Felix helps her outside, you wait till he comes back in to speak, staring at the worried way he ensures she safely heads off through the window.

For a moment, it feels like you’re back in the treehouse, gazing at him as if he painted the stars in the sky. 

You refuse to let your anxiety get the best of you, not when the one person whose presence you’ve been longing for comes back in your life. 

“Felix,” You voice from across the table. He looks back to where you are.

“If I don’t say it now, I doubt I ever will but..I like you. I have liked you, for a really long time actually. More than friends I mean, I like you… more than just a friend.”

He sort of studied you for a moment, and your heart flies up to your throat, rethinking every instance leading to now.

“Took you that long to tell me?” He murmurs, and when you meet his gaze, you note the small grin on his lips, the way honey seems to swirl in the pools of his eyes.

“I’ve been waiting, y’know. For a really long time,” He finishes, donning that sheepish smile whilst walking toward you, an action that causes you to fall stock still. 

Leaning forward slightly, his hands clutch your face, planting the lightest of kisses on your forehead, each of your cheeks, and then your nose, fondly admiring the flush of your skin in the dimly lit room.

“You’re missing something,” You whisper, peeking an eye open. 

Felix cocks a bemused brow.

And what is that?”

Without words, you hesitantly tap your lips, and Felix wastes no time, ensuring you’re as comfortable as possible prior to savoring your taste on his tongue, remnants of sugar clinging to his bottom lip, transferring onto yours each time he tips his head.

You hop upon the countertop, beginning to apologize in case you messed up his workspace before being shushed again by his lips, hands frantically searching to hold his face, expression pinched, eyes squeezed shut.

It feels as if your heart may just burst, beating at a deafening rate in your ears.

There must’ve been something in the sugar.

“Lix?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to come back over to my place?”

Instantly, his once smugly pleased face dissipates, a hot flush rising up his neck in its place.

“Y..Your place? I mean isn’t it a bit too early to—“

Without elaborating, you drag him off, silencing any of his nervous babbling along the way back to your car.

Nonetheless, it doesn’t take long for either of you to get comfortable.

“..Oh Lix.”

“I can’t- I can’t take it anymore Y/N..”

Sitting beside each other on your mattress, the both of you hold huge containers of popcorn, the newest rendition of “Alien” playing on screen. Felix is coddled in blankets, wincing as the creature gets closer to the girl’s face while you’re already gagging watching the miniature monster crawl out of the bigger one’s mouth.

“This is disgusting!!” He shrieks, hiding his face while you giggle, trying your hardest to watch the grotesque scene. 

This is your third movie of the night, and even after years apart, you can still use even slightly thrilling movies to freak him out. 

Still entertaining, too.

The longer you stare at him, the greater a fondness seeps into your face, into the lines of your smile, the irises of your eyes.

Months upon months you had been searching for your antidote, ignorant to the fact the antidote in question could be a person.

You hadn’t realized how low you’d gone until you had to be dragged back out again.

A hand reaching out, pulling you up when your legs were too weak to move. Kissing you when the words couldn’t come out of your mouth, holding your hand when you needed support.

Lee Felix, wrapped in your comforter now fast asleep, was your brighter place.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[heckyeahponyscans]

Lauren Faust originally imagined all her G1 childhood faves in a My Little Pony reboot. So why was Applejack the only one who made it in? We don't know for sure, but here is my theory.

IMO Hasbro went into the MLP reboot wanting each main character to be a different color of the rainbow, similar to TMNT or Power Rangers. (Which is a big improvement over Core 7 G3 when THREE out of seven characters were pink.)

So let's look at the initial G1 crew:

Sparkler - blue Twilight - pink Surprise - white Firefly - pink Applejack - orange Posey - yellow

Already we can see some pink is doubled up. But just wait.

Pinkie Pie was THE face of G3 My Little Pony and Rainbow Dash was nearly as popular. Hasbro made big versions of these ponies, they made small versions of them, they made plush baby versions, and they were immortalized on birthday cards, balloons, ornaments, and other merch. I was so disappointed when I heard Pinkie Pie would be in G4 because I was tired of seeing her, ha ha.

But Hasbro was not tired of selling merchandise of their most popular ponies, so I'm sure one of their first notes was "We absolutely need Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash in the new lineup."

Their personality changes wouldn't matter to Hasbro. What mattered was their marketability as toys / designs.

So Firefly, Twilight, and Sparkler were now out of the lineup, due to also being pink and blue.

Now we have:

Rainbow Dash - blue Pinkie Pie - pink Surprise - white ??? Applejack - orange Posey - yellow

But, uh oh! Pinkie Pie and Surprise both have balloon symbols. So Surprise also must die leave.

IMO the names being trademarked / easily defendable was important to Hasbro, and they already had hundreds of G3 names / designs at their disposal. And also they needed a purple pony for this lineup.

So Twilight Twinkle (later renamed Twilight Sparkle) joined the crew and became a unicorn.

Rainbow Dash - blue Pinkie Pie - pink ??? Twilight Twinkle / Sparkle - purple Applejack - orange Posey - yellow

G1 Glory's colors (white with purple hair) then replaced blue Sparkler. But wait!! Both Glory and Twilight Sparkle-Twinkle have stars on their rumps! So Rarity retained Sparkler's symbol of diamonds.

I don't know why they didn't use one of the G1 names, except perhaps that "Rarity the Unicorn" was already a Hasbro trademark, having been a G3 character.

Rainbow Dash - blue Pinkie Pie - pink Rarity - white Twilight Sparkle - purple Applejack - orange Posey - yellow

So why was Posey changed to Fluttershy? In my opinion she was switched up quite late because the original plot of Dragonshy had her as an earth pony, which is why she was struggling to get up the mountain. (That's why they had to add the bit about Fluttershy's wings locking up from fear.)

In addition to wanting a variety of colors, I think Hasbro wanted two of each main pony species. Originally Pinkie Pie was slated to be a pegasus, but then she was switched to an earth pony. So Yellow Pony was shunted into a pegasus slot instead.

Basically, I think Posey got replaced with Fluttershy because it was thought that butterfly symbols were more befitting for a pegasus. Plus girls love animals and if they needed plots revolving around growing plants, they already had Applejack on deck.

So in the end Applejack was the only G1 pony who remained in G4, not because Hasbro had any special hold on her, but because she had a pretty unique name and she wasn't a repeated color.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk

[freddie-77-ao3]

pjo characters as quotes

Thalia:

“I *Audible sigh* I really can’t believe I have to say this, but *another sigh* when someone tells you not to run down the stairs, you do not jump out the window. Thank you.”

"Legally all of us are dead except Percy, so sir, the cops are going to have a lot of trouble finding records of us.”

“For the love of Zeus? What love? He doesn’t have any, except for himself and power.”

Nico:

 “As the only person here who did not, at one point or another, have a crush on Luke Castellan, I’m choosing where we’re eating today. And it's Mcdonalds.”

Travis:

“I have to wonder how many ping pong tables Clarisse has destroyed in her time at camp, oh wait no i don’t. The number is thirty-seven”

“I am a very good person, I just choose not to act on it.”

“Good fucking gods- wait no, the gods aren’t good. Uh, fucking gods. Yeah, that seems more accurate.”

Connor:

‘I have enough money to last for the rest of my life, but I have to die by tuesday.’

“I will pay a nickel for the first person to kill me. Please and thank you.”

“I’ve made a lot of bad decisions today. Most of them involve the soda machine at noodles and co.”

Clarisse:

“Oh, me? I’m the tooth fairy, here to steal your bones.”

“zeus may have fucked his way through the family tree but Percy's gonna fight his way through it.”

Clovis:

“Obviously he has harvesting god trauma, I mean: Titan of time, Goddess of Springtime/Queen of the Underworld, Kronide 2.0, Trip-oh something.. “ about nico (Kronos/Persephone/Demeter/Triptolemos)

Miranda:

“All of our most emotional, important, or depressing conversations happen over a ping pong or card game, and I’m not entirely sure that’s healthy.”

Chris:

“What am I? Well, personally I think of myself as human, but I suppose technically I’m only half human, so maybe just a being of pure chaos. As for why I’m on your lawn, I have no clue, sir.”

Cecil:

“Hold on, if I’m jewish, and you’re an atheist, then who’s going to acknowledge the god in the kitchen?”

Drew:

“What? Ignoring a situation? There is no situation and therefore I have nothing to ignore.”

“My fuck, do you remember that time when Miranda bought a parenting book, and then highlighted it and added names according to the issues everyone had? Say what you will about her, but that was the ultimate power move.”

Malcolm:

"I would say get a room but yours is the same as mine, please try to remember that."

"Morning? Sorry, that wasn't meant to be a question. I mean, I know it's morning. But I meant 'good morning'—"

Katie:

“You look delicious… i mean beautiful- wait, pretty? Handsome? Hot? Yeah. You look hot today.”

Percy:

“Who needs health? I have chicken nuggets.”

[linkspooky]

DUEL VS. DUEL: Yubel and Judai vs Ai and Playmaker

If you haven't noticed YGO! often recycles different characters and plot ideas throughout its various spinoffs. There's usually a rival whose ace monster is a dragon, a best friend character to support the main character, there's almost always a guy like Bakura who has several things wrong with him. This isn't a criticism, I actually love the way that each spinoff builds off of all the other series while also remaining its own thing. There's a lot of meaning you can decipher from analyzing the intentional callbacks the authors put in to previous series so that's what we're going to do today.

Both GX and Vrains feature a third season where the protagonist's partner character becomes the main antagonist for the entire season, and manages to pick off the protagonist's friends one by one until they're all alone with the protag for the final duel. Both of these characters, Yubel and Ai aren't motivated by hate but rather a twisted form of love and the parallels between these two duels don't stop there.

Yubel and Yusaku: Love vs. Ai

The partner character appears in almost every YGO! series with the exception of 5DS and Sevens. It began with Yami Yugi, a second personality created inside Yugi who played took over and played games in Yugi's place and cursed everyone who offended him only to eventually build a partnership with Yugi that lasted for most of the series until Atem reclaimed his name and memories and became his own person again.

These partner characters usually assist in duels, and are either another personality existing inside the protagonist, or if they're external like Astral or Ai they still share a special link with the protagonist.

Yubel and Ai are unique because they are both partner characters who turn into major antagonists. They don't just share the role of antagonists there's also several similarities between the two of them, from motivation, their connection to the protagonist, and both characters being built around the concept of love. This is probably intentional because the scenario writer for all of Vrains also worked on large parts of GX and was the main scenario writer for Season 4.

To introduce both characters, Yubel is a Duel Spirit. They were originally a human child named Yubel who was the closest friend of the boy who would eventually grow up to be the Supreme King and reincarnate in the modern day as Judai Yuki. Yubel gave up their humanity and in a painful surgery became a hideous dragon with an impenetrable body in order to protect Judai.

Afterwards the boy who would eventually become the Supreme King swore eternal love to Yubel. Yubel's devotion followed Judai into the next life, where because Yubel gave up their humanity they reincarnated as a card spirit instead that only Judai could see. They used their considerable power to protect Judai from anyone they considered a threat, including other neighborhood kids who beat him in card games. Judai as a result became completely isolated. Which Yubel didn't mind because Judai was their entire world and they believed they should have been enough for Judai.

Judai decided to send Yubel's card away into space in the hopes that the space rays would calm Yubel's troubled soul, but instead Yubel became corrupted by a cosmic force known as THE LIGHT OF DESTRUCTION. Yubel endured ten years of torture and agony all along. At first they called out to Judai in his dreams, but his parents eventually forced Judai to go through a procedure that made him forget all memories of Yubel.

Alone and forgotten Yubel crashes down to earth and is torn to pieces. As an arm they parasitize several people until they gain enough power to reconstitute their body, and then dragon Judai and all his friends into another dimmension all as a part of their grand scheme to finally reunite with Judai and awaken his memories of the Supreme King.

Even though they were hurt by Judai, Yubel isn't motivated by revenge, but by love and a desire to be together with Judai and secure all of Judai's love for themselves. Yubel's twisted definition of love was formed when after crying for help one final time, they snapped and told themselves a lie in order to keep going. That ignoring Yubel, making them suffer, leaving them all alone it was just the way that Judai expressed his love. Yubel then becomes dedicated to showing that love in return and effectively dragging Judai down to their level.

Yubel: I was suffering as you came to forget about me… Yubel: It burns… It hurts…It’s killing me. But why? I love him so much. Why is Judai treating me like this? Yubel: And then it hit me. This is just a form of Judai’s love. Judai is hurting me and making me suffer because of his love for me. But you see, I couldn’t possibly forget about you in the time i’ve suffered. Yubel: So when I solved the riddle that you posed to me, I was delighted. And that fueled my decision. I would try to fill the entire twelve dimmensions with my love for you. Yubel: And once I did you would have to recognize my love for you, wouldn’t you?

Ai is also a character that's connected to Yusaku's childhood. Ai is an ignis, and artificial intelligence that was created by basically torturing six children by forcing them to duel over and over again and then scanning their brains and modeling six different AI off of the data.

The shadow ignis or AI quite literally came from Yusaku's brain, even though they don't meet until much later on in life. From the onset there's a lot of differences between Ai and Yubel's role as partners. Ai is Yusaku's partner for most of the series, and is effectively introduced as a stranger and has to build a bond fo trust with Yusaku over the first two seasons.

Whereas Yubel was Judai's best friend and favorite monster in childhood, but Judai has forgotten about Yubel in the first two seasons and when Yubel finally does appear again it's as an enemy. The bond between Yusaku and Ai forms and then falls apart, whereas both Yubel and Judai start out with their bond completely broken and over the course of season three they reunite and come back together.

Ai is motivated by first his own survival, and second the survival of all the other ignis who are currently being hunted by several human corporations, a group of hackers known as the knights of Hanoi, and one Ignis themselves known as Lightning who turned traitor to the other Ignis. Yusaki and Ai's shared goal is to find a way for the Ignis and Humans to co-exist without one of them trying to pre-emptively wipe out the other because of the danger both of them pose to each other.

Over the course of the story though, as one by one Ai loses his friends in the fellow Ignis who either die or are absorbed, he comes to obsess over Yusaku as his one remaining friend. Yubel and Judai's feelings for one another are a holdover from a previous lifetime they become estranged and reunite again, whereas Ai comes to love and obsess over Yusaku similiarly to Yubel does and it's precisely because of those obsessive and overprotective feelings he decides to terminate their relationship permanently.

Ai enacts a plan similiar to Yubel's to destroy Yusaku's friends one by one all while threatening the entire world. Yubel sought to fuse the dimmensions together, while AI wants to start the inevitable fight between the Ignis and Humanity on his terms.

While their role in the story and characters are similar, they're also contrasting opposites in many ways. Yubel started out as a human and gave up their humanity to become a duel spirit. Ai started out as an artificial intelligence, he thinks as an artificial intelligence who has trouble understanding humans, and while he becomes more humanlike all the time he's eventually hampered by his inability to think like a human. Yubel is also much older than Ai having lived two lifetimes with memories of both, whereas Ai is essentially a child, a fledgling sentient being who still doesn't understand many things about the world.

Their different levels of maturity really show in their understanding of the world around them, or rather Ai's naivete and lack of understanding. Both characters are built around the concept of love, with love for the protagonist as their main motivation but Yubel while twisted demonstrates a deep understanding of love.

Yubel is able to see inside the hearts of people and uses their intimate knowledge of their inner darkness in order to twist people according to their own desires. Yubel's actually a deeply empathic character able to understand people's feelings sometimes better than they understand themselves, they just use that empathic understanding for evil.

While their understanding of love sounds insane at times they're also able to make deep observations about not only people's relationships to each other but the darker nature of love. As much as we shy away from the idea of hurting the ones we love on purpose, there's a seed of truth in the fact that whether intentionally or unintentionally being close to someone means you will hurt them. That pain is a natural part of love. She's also able to suss out the unhealthy love and devotion shared between Amon and Echo quickly.

Yubel: I get it now… You weren’t in love with Echo. Yubel: No. You may have loved her just enough to clear the conditions in place for you to control Exodia. Yubel: But then, you didn’t truly love each other. Yubel: You were only unfairly hurting her, while you would stay unharmed. Yubel: You wouldn’t suffer. You wouldn’t be in pain.

Yubel also ultimately seeks a love between equals. As much as they frame themselves as Judai's protector, what they want is for Judai to be dragged down to their level so Judai will finally understand them.

Their entire plan revolved around isolating Judai until Judai understood the pain of suffering ten years alone in space that Yubel went through. When Judai snaps and becomes the Supreme King taking a similiar dark turn to Yubel, Yubel turns out to be right in the end. By the time they've reunited both Judai and Yubel have done terrible things and hurt the people they loved.

Yubel: So when I solved the riddle that you posed to me, I was delighted. And that fueled my decision. I would try to fill the entire twelve dimmensions with my love for you. Yubel: And once I did you would have to recognize my love for you, wouldn’t you? Yubel: That is why I sought to fill all those linked to you - your world - with both sadness and anguish. Yubel: ANd my line of thinking wasn’t wrong. Yubel: I mean you are right before my eyes, Judai.

Yubel operates on a principle of empathy and understanding through shared suffering. Whereas, I would argue while Ai cares about Yusaku they are not particularly empathic nor do they understand Yusaku. This is because Ai is practically a newborn existence naive to the world, and also as a computer with a computer brain fundamentally thinks differently.

However, I'd also argue that Ai also doesn't really want to try to change their thinking to bridge the gap between humans an AI. In despair they've completely given up on trying to understand humans. They also on some level don't want to change, because they arrogantly assume they know what's best for both them and Yusaku.

Ai has given into despair from losing their loved ones and suffering isolation just like Yubel, but I think a key difference is that everything Yubel does no matter how twisted is a desperate attempt to reunite with Judai, to understand Judai and be understood by them. Whereas, Ai doesn't want to try anymore.

Ai: Back then I would have done anything to save my friends. Yusaku: There's nothing you could have done there was no other way. AI: I know that. [...] Yusaku: Ai, you have the power to change this. Yusaku: As a special ignis you have the power to live with humans. Find a way to backtrack from this. AI: You trying to pull me back? AI: Thank you Playmaker, but you don't understand. I learned when everyone was gone that when you lose friends your heart breaks. AI: My heart was broken back then and I lost all self control. Yusaku: If losing a friend makes your heart break then are you trying to break my heart?

Not only does Ai not want to understand, but they also deliberately ignore Yusaku's feelings and personal autonomy. Yusaku is a kidnapped child who had a lot of their life robbed from them and manipulated they hate anyone who disrespects their free will but Ai walks all over it and disregards all of Yusaku's opinions. They do the one thing Yusaku asks them not to do, because Ai incorrectly assumes they know best.

They also don't really understand Yusaku on a fundamental level and as I said, they don't want to make the effort to bridge the gap either.

It seems kind of silly saying which one is worse, because both Yubel and Ai violate Judai and Yusaku's personal autonomy multiple times. They both act selfish and entitled towards the person they love. They both also intentionally hurt that person and then turn back around and claim it's protecting them. They both act incredibly possessive and try to manipulate their partner into doing what they want.

They both have the gall afterwards to claim they're doing so out of selfless devotion, downplaying any feelings of selfishness on their end. Both consider Yusaku and Judai's other friends to be targets in order to get at their partners. Both will inflict pain on the person they love and are so devoted to in service of getting what they want.

The only real difference is motivation because as I said, as controlling as Yubel is it's out of a desire to reunite and be equals. They're both in too much pain to express their love in any kind of healthy way, but Yubel at least wants things to be better whereas Ai has just given up. The fact that Yubel's themed around sharing pain too also makes them and Judai equals, whereas Ai is trying to have power over Yusaku and take Yusaku's decisions away in order to force Yusaku to do what he assumes is best.

That might be the most important difference between them. Whereas Yubel wanted to live together with Judai, Ai wanted to force Yusaku to kill him in order to avert a potential future where Yusaku dies trying to protect Ai. It's a motivation that turns one story into a love story, and the other into a tragedy.

Judai and Yusaku: Hero vs Anti-Hero

Judai and Yusaku are two characters who could not look to be any more different at first glance. Though they're both themed around heroism Judai starts as the fun loving kid who admires heroes and is always dueling to save others when his friends are in a fix. Yusaku is the loner anti-hero who is on a revenge quest all alone against the Knights of Hanoi.

Yusaku starts out unwilling to make friends and refusing help from others. Judai on the other hand is constantly surrounded by people. Though both of them are forced into the role of always dueling to protect others and carrying the responsibilies of other people on their shoulder. Often times it's forced upon them unwillingly and they have to take on too much responsibility.

Judai forms unhealthy relationships with people that are based on him always needing to clean up their messes and those same friendships eventually unravel. Whereas Yusaku spends three seasons learning to form healthier relationships with people, and the climax of the first season is even Yusaku developing from dueling for revenge to dueling to save his very first friend in Kogami.

Judai loves dueling and even duels exclusively for the fun of it, often in the first two seasons protecting others and facing the villains as an afterthought. Yusaku on the other hand hates dueling because of the trauma he was forced to undergo as a child and despite being the strongest duelist simply views dueling as a means to an end.

Perhaps the most interesting way to compare them is their opposite journeys. They're both commentaries on heroism. They both eventually gain alter egos that are really just emphasizing different traits of their personalities. The Supreme King is the embodiment of Judai's selfishness and his fixation on always winning and dueling for power. Yusaku is a socially withdrawn kid, and Playmaker his internet identity is the way he fights back against his abusers. He's also a strong willed, determined and active where Yusaku is almost entierly passive. They're both ultimately the same guy though, Supreme King is a part of Judai, Playmaker is Yusaku with more freedom to be himself online.

However, Judai starts out as a straightforward hero and goes on to be a dark deconstruction of the pure hearted hero. All of Judai's flaws that go unaddressed because people constantly put him on a pedestal eventually lead to his ruin. The pressure Judai is always under to win turns into an obsession with power.

Judai: Why? What did I do that was so wrong? I… I did the right thing! And yet… everyone keeps leaving me! What… What is wrong with me? Supreme King: Yuki Judai. To be willing to be evil to defeat evil. This world exemplfiies survival of the fittest. It must be ruled with power. Judai: Power? I don’t have that much power… Supreme King: You hold the Super Polymerization card in your hand. Defeat the spirits that stand against you. Breathe their lives into it and complete that card.

Judai also exists in a narrative that won't allow him to be a hero. GX deconstructs all kinds of heroism and self-sacrifice. Edo Phoenix's quest for revenge is called out as him being childish, and unwilling to grow up from the trauma he suffered as a child. Johan is the most straightforward hero, but his decision to sacrifice himself to protect Judai and everyone else is what starts Judai's breakdown. When Jim duels against the supreme king he declares he's not sacrificing him to save the world but rather trying to help a friend.

Judai's eventual character growth in choosing to fuse with Yubel isn't a sacrifice, but rather Judai finally growing up and taking responsibility for the way he hurt Yubel.

Yusaku on the other hand is on the journey from going from an anti-hero who fights for himself and his own personal revenge to becoming a more straightforward hero. I wouldn't say Yusaku's arc is more shallow in comparison just because it's not a dark deconstruction, rather it's exploring a different topic the responsibilities of being a hero.

His greatest moment of character growth in the first season is going from caring only about revenge, to dueling the pesron who saved him as a child because he wants to save his very first friend.

You could say Yusaku because he's not allowed to crumble is actually under more pressure than Judai is. He's almost forced into the role of a hero and not allowed to be selfish, while Judai from start to finish is a selfish character even if he grows up quite a bit over the course of the story.

Yusaku is also someone who from start to finish follows his own sense of unbending justice. Where, Judai doesn't have any consistent moral code. He's defined in the first two seasons of only dueling for the fun of it, and by Season 3 he's deeply troubled that he doesn't have a reason to duel like Johan does.

Following his own justice is actually deeply important to Yusaku, probably what he values the most actually. Since his life was thrown off by the Lost Incident he starts out deeply untrusting of others and even when he grows past that he hates people who try to influence him and insist they know what's best for him. It's what led him to not only be deeply offended by Zaizen telling Yusaku to back down and let him handle it, but also him refusing Zaizen's help.

This quality of Yusaku's also dovetails into my next point where we finally get to comparing the two duels.

A LOVE STORY vs. A TRAGEDY

The setup for the duel is identical in both cases. Yubel and Ai have eliminated almost all of Judai and Yusaku's friends and now they are on the endgame of their plans. Yusaku and Judai are both dueling against their former partners to stop them, and both partners refuse any attempts to work things out any other way and force a fight.

However, the motivations of each member going into these duels are so opposite that it makes a neat little foiling square.

Starting with Yubel their motivation for getting into the duel is simultaneously a desire to reunite and express their love for Judai, and a thinly veiled cry for help.

Judai: If you hated how I treated you, then you should have gotten revenge on me. Yubel: Hate? Revenge? What are you talking about? Didn't I tell you? I went to this trouble hoping it would make you happy, Judai. Judai: Make me happy? After my friends suffered by getting hurt and killed. Yubel: But that's love isn't it? Yubel: I wanted to torment you to share the depths of my love.

Yubel's plan is to both awaken Judai's memories of the supreme king by engineering his downfall, and also after taking his friends away one by one to fuse the dimmensions together so Judai and Yubel can be together forever with Yubel by his side protecting him. As Yubel defines their entire existence and worth by being Judai's protector and doesn't understand why Judai would ever reject their protection or need friends other than them.

Yubel: My every waking moment was for you. Yubel: I even got rid of everyone around you who tried to make you cry. Judai: Yubel. By doing that you hurt the friends I had around me. Judai: None of my close firends even wanted to duel with me. Yubel: You had me as a close friend, didn't you? All you had to do was focus only on me.

Yubel frames their actions as selfless while also acting out an entitlement that they're owed Judai's love for all of their devotion to him. They're also willing to hurt his closest friends, isolate him, and basically throw tantrums in order to get it.

When they come to the slow realization that Judai won't return their feelings, it leads to them breaking down slowly over the course of the duel. All of the lies they told themselves about the love between them and Judai slowly starts to unravel along with their mind.

The duel beings with Yubel actively enjoying all the pain Judai is inflicting upon them. When Judai activates the supreme king though, and starts dueling seriously to eliminate Yubel, it chips through Yubel's delusions and Yubel is no longer able to keep pretending that pain is love.

I couldn’t have lived with the heartache unless I felt that I was being loved…

Moving on to Ai, the primary difference between Yubel and Ai's motivation is that Yubel's plans are a thinly veiled cry for help while Ai refuses to accept any help.

Yusaku: Find a way to backtrack, Ai! Ai: I can't. Ai: Sorry, but there's no backtracking. Ai: Let's go, Playmaker!

Their desires are opposite too. Yubel's plan is to continue living with Judai, and Ai's plan amounts to forcing Yusaku to kill them.

Ai: If this attack gets through I lose. AI: Well, make up your mind already. AI: You came to get them back, right? AI: You're everyone's hope so you have to do it, even if I'm the opponent.

Yubel and Ai are both incredibly manipulative characters, and Ai in particular is holding all of Yusaku's friends hostage in order to make him do something he does not want to do and will hurt him beyond repair. He's also inflicting the same trauma the loss of all of his friends and the loss of an important friend the same way that Yubel wishes to make Judai suffer the same way they did by isolating them from all of their friends and pushing them off the edge to bring out their darkest emotions.

However, once again Yubel's manipulations are done with the intent of getting Judai to understand them whereas Ai no longer wants to try understanding Yusaku and presumes he knows best.

Ai: Back then I had to do whatever it takes to save my friends. Yusaku: There's nothing you could have done to save them. Ai: I know there wasn't. Yusaku: Ai, that simulation was lightning's trap. He knew if you saw it while in despair your heart would fall into darkness. So don't worry about it. Ai: I considered that possibility. Because he left it after he fought us. AI: So I redid my own simulation and ran it over and over. But the result wouldn't change.

Ai also chooses to trust simulations and the words of his enemy Lightning over the words of his own partner and the urging of Yusaku that they can try to take a third way out together. His basic inability to trust is what damns him, relying on controlling manipulation instead to coerce and eventually force Yusaku to do what he wants and what he has decided is best.

It shows in his plan to, Ai's conditions for the duel is that he'll either copy himself and spread the copies into all of the mass manufactured robots or Yusaku will have to stop him with his own hands at which point Ai's programming is terminated. Either way Ai dies. The only real way for Yusaku to save Ai is to convince him to stop the duel which Ai won't do.

Ai: Oh I didn't tell you. When my copies are created, as the final trigger my free will will be divided and given to them. Yusaku: What will happen to you? AI: My free will will be broken apart. AI: I'll be no more. If you win you'll retrieve everything I took and I'll be no more. Either way, I'll be no more. Yusaku: Ai, you're making me choose how you die?

He's stripped away all of Yusaku's choices. Yubel is stripping away Judai's choices to but once again it's out of a desire to be together with Judai while Ai is doing the opposite forcing Yusaku to be an enemy and end him with his own two hands.

Moving onto the process of the duel itself, the duel begins with both Yusaku and Judai trying to talk their partners down from dueling and finding some other way to settle this.

They fail but for opposite reasons. Judai because his pleas with Yubel are half hearted and done more in the spirit of lip-service. Judai fails because Yubel sees through his half hearted attempts. In their previous duel Yubel calls out the fact that Judai went to the ends of the earth to save Johan, but after subjecting Yubel to years of torture barely lifted a finger to reach out to them.

While Yusaku genuinely shows a desire to solve things with Ai with anything other than dueling, but Ai is the reason they have to fight. Ai is the one who forces Yusaku's hand. While Judai does not understand Yubel and does not empathize, Ai is the one who fails to understand Yusaku and how much pain forcing this conflict on him causes Yusaku. He also doesn't want to understand, while Yubel is at least self-aware of the fact that they are intentionally hurting Judai.

Yusaku's sincerity can be seen in how much he refuses to victim blame Ai, starting right away and continuing through the duel. Repeatedly over and over again Yusaku tries to reassure Ai that the guilt he's experiencing isn't his fault. Whereas, Judai victim blames Yubel continually. Yusaku is a character who values responsibility above all else, while Judai is avoiding personal responsibiltiy even though they're the ones who put Yubel in a situation where they were tortured.

Ai: As you know I got rid of my friends and ended up alone. There were only six of us but we foolishly hated each other. Yusaku: AI that's not your fault. AI: I know but it doesn't matter who's fault it is. I'm earth's last surviving human. And that fact won't change. Playmaker I sort of understand how you felt. Being alone is very painful. Yusaku: [...] I understand your sadness but don't let this fate sweep you away.

Whereas, Judai quickly resorts to victim blaming Yubel pretty quickly.

I made a lot of friends… And they all taught me something… real love is wide enough, large enough and deep enough to fill the universe. Your so-called love is only a conceited delusion.

There's also a distinct difference in both Yusaku and Judai's behavior throughout the duel. Most of the time it's Yubel iniating conversation with Judai because as I said by the time their second duel has started Judai has given up on understanding Yubel and dismisses them as crazy and beyond comprehension. Whereas Yusaku is the one who initiates most of the conversation with Ai.

Moving onto the duel part of duel it's interesting to note how different Yubel and Ai's dueling styles are. Yubel dominates almost any duel they're in. They toy with the likes of Ryo and Amon. Even when Judai duels them to a draw, the duel went exactly as Yubel planned because their true objective was to snatch away super polymerization from Judai's graveyard.

Yubel's boss monster is also unbeatable. It never takes damage, in fact most of the cards in Yubel's various decks don't take damage. Their ace monster for the sacred beast deck is a card that inflicts 10,000 damage once a turn. Advanced Darkness crystal beasts allows them to negate all damage done by sending a card to the graveyard. Even when judai manages to get Yubel off the field it simply upgrades into a stronger form.

Ai on the other hand duels on the ropes and duels very defensively, Yusaku at several points is about to go for game and end the duel in one hit and Ai only manages to barely avoid ending the duel early with a trap card or the like.

Yubel's main strategy is to prolong the duel until Judai is forced to pick Super Polymerization with spell chronicle. They want Judai to choose them and choose staying together with them by spell chronicle. Whereas at multiple points Ai continues to encourage Yusaku to crush them with everything they have.

Once again, one wants empathy, the other disregards Yusaku's will.

Yubel: My suffering becomes your suffering. Yubel: Such empathy... Yubel: Nightmare pain. It has us wrapped in the same anguish, and the same love.

Ai is forcing Yusaku's hand because once again, no matter the result Yusaku kills Ai. On the other hand, Yubel grows increasingly disturbed by Judai's lack of mercy.

Yubel: Oh my, you shouldn't be so heartless my dear judai. Judai: We can't protect what matters to us just by being kind. I'm prepared to fight for the friends I love to the end even if it becomes becoming a demon or the devil.

Judai also quickly abandons heroism for the power of the supreme king, whereas Ai practically forces Yusaku to choose being a hero and saving his friends. Judai prioritizes Johan and then the rest of his friends over Yubel, Yusaku doesn't want to choose and a horrible choice is forced upon him.

Yubel for their part is aware of Judai's hypocrisy, once again they demonstrate a deep understanding of Judai. Whereas, Ai doesn't understand Yusaku one bit, while at the same time claiming to know better.

AI: When it comes to memory and calculations we're far superior to humans. We can figure out humans' faults and contradictions. AI: That's why it's easy to become arrogant. With Ai's with free will it's in their nature. AI: Something awakened within me. They're not evil thoughts. But I wonder, in order for me to live why do I have to adapt to humans. AI: I feel differently from humans.

Ai continually urges Yusaku to choose his friends over him. He forces the choice where there should be done. On the other hand Yubel wants to be chosen over Judai's friends. Out of a sense of entitlement but also a fear of being abandoned again.

Yubel: The camraderie of yours with the neo-spacians will be of no use to you. And my love alone is much stronger. Yet even so you're saying that you'll choose friendships with the neo-spacians over my love. [...] Yubel: Judai so you want to drive me away at any cost. Do you and the neo-spacians find my love to be such a hindrance.

Once again, Ai remarks frequently that the loss of their friends made them give up all hope on continuing. Yubel on the other hand is capable of enduring almost anything. They're defined by their endurance and determination to hold on. When they burn up on re-entry they slowly piece themselves back together. When they're disintegrated after Johan's sacrifice, they take Johan's body and then slowly restore themselves once more. Judai duels them to a draw, that's yubel's plan all along and they take super poly. Judai destroys their boss monster, they just summon another one.

Ai on the other hand fundamentally believes free will in Ai's will lead to conflict and that future is inescapable, so they force Yusaku's hand in ending their existence.

AI: You said humans don't want sudden changes. AI: But I can't help my own changes. I may become someone like Bohman or Lightning so I want to vanish before that happens.

Ai has already reached their breaking point, whereas Yubel is slowly driven to their breaking point by Judai's lack of empathy throughout the duel. Yubel similiarly becomes suicidal like AI, but only after Judai continually insists that they're only dueling to destroy Yubel. Once again, while Ai's plan is to self-terminate for Yusaku's "sake" choosing to die while Judai lives on without them is something Yubel would never do.

At least, they might take a bullet for Judai, but they don't want to be alone and abandoned while Judai goes back to live on happily with all his other friends. Yubel wants to be chosen, Ai wants Yusaku to choose his friends. In fact, it's the idea that Yusaku wouldn't abandon him even if the war against Ai and Humans did happen that drives Ai's decision to die rather than let that happen.

AI: When I lived in the simulation I saw it. What my existence will lead to. You get dragged into it and perish. I can't choose that future.

Once again though, it's a decision Ai makes out of an inability to trust Yusaku. Also, if Yusaku wants to stay by Ai's side in spite of the danger it poses to him, that's Yusaku's choice. Ai may perceive himself as protecting Yusaku, but he's also disrespecting his autonomy.

It's also driven by a lack of understanding of what love and trust are. That's not entirely Ai's fault, he is in fact a newborn who recently lost every single one of his friends due to the conflict between humans and AI. It makes sense he'd have trouble trusting humans even the one that's been by his side all this time.

Whereas, Yubel wants Judai's understanding and breaks down when Judai continually denies it to them.

Yubel: Do you hate me that much? Yubel: I thought of this twelve-dimmension universe as a space for us together... so I tried to fill the universe with my love. But if you're calling on your friends and going to such lengths to get rid of me I no longer need to fill this universe with love. No, I no longer need this world. Let me put an end to this universe, to the void as well, and to our time together. Yubel: It was fun Judai, even those who helped lure you to me had dark, dark hearts. I feasted upon their hearts and waited for the reunion with you, my beloved. Yubel: I even invited you to that first dimmension. Well, I enjoyed that duel as well. Until he interfered. But I suppose you just weren't ready to accept my love back then. Yubel: I mean, the darkness in your heart, the supreme king was lying dormant. Yubel: Though I did have your friends help me. Which pulled out the darkness in your heart and ushered you this far. Yubel: I didn't think you were so hardheaded. You're the one at fault. If you can't grasp my love I don't need you. Or this universe. You can all just vanish into dust.

Judai needs to accept responsibility for both what he did to Yubel, and his own actions for the supreme king and how both him and Yubel can be pushed to do terrible things when they're alone and in pain. Part of the motivation for Judai's demonization of Yubel is he wants to keep playing the hero because the guilt of everything he did as the supreme king is crushing him and making him borderline suicidal.

On the other hand Ai is the one who's given up on trying to understand others. Yusaku is doing the best he can to both balance his feelings for Ai and desire to save him against his responsibility to save his other friends but he can't really be held personally responsible for Ai's actions. Whereas Judai on some level is responsible for Yubel's actions since he created the situation in the first place and continually chooses to abandon Yubel instead of trying to reach out to them.

Yubel is right to an extent that this situation is his fault and he never made any attempts to save them. Whereas, Ai is being manipulative when he forces Yusaku to make the choice to kill him putting all the responsibility on Yusaku's shoulders.

Which is why when the duels end in completely opposite fashions. Judai's way of taking responsibility is to fuse together with Yubel, whereas Yusaku refuses to fuse with Ai.

In Yusaku's case the refusal to fuse isn't turning down Ai's proposed third option, or a peaceful solution to the duel. After all, if Ai called off the duel right there Yusaku would accept it and work to forgive Ai for what he did to his friends. Even if they continue on as individuals it's not like Yusaku would leave Ai's side. In fact his reason for refusing Ai's offer to fuse is that he wants them to remain together as two individuals.

Fusion means two entirely different things in this context. Judai acknowledges there's a risk he may no longer exist after fusing with Yubel but like, they keep going on as two seperate individuals and consciousnesses even when they share the same body. Whereas in Ai's case, fusing with Yusaku would destroy both of them and give birth to a completely new being. Ai is using fusion as yet another method of self destruction, because he doesn't want to change himself and doesn't believe in the capacity to change himself.

Yusaku: Even if we become one, that's not the solution you're seeking. We only have one life. One consciousness. Yusaku: If I fuse, I won't be me and you won't be you.

Ai makes his choice out of his inability to face the future. He wants to self terminate, either by distributing his free will among copies or fusing with Yusaku to become someone else because he doesn't trust in his ability to grow and change. In fact he's avoiding having to change and grow up.

Yusaku: So living is a series of bonds! That's what life is. AI: So I have to do that forever? Yusaku: Yes. AI: That's a lot of work. And you can't do that unless you're strong. Yusaku: That's why people become stronger. And that occasionally leads to conflicts. But even if that happens we have to keep fighting. Keep searching for bonds even if there's no solution. AI: I was thinking too logically like an AI. Yusaku: You can't rush living. AI: But I don't want to keep fighting if there's no solution. Since I've lost the desire to fight I'll just vanish.

You could say that Yusaku's unbending nature and his responsibity as a hero made it so he couldn't fuse with Ai or throw the duel but like, there's only so much Yusaku could have done. He didn't give up trying to convince Ai at any point and it's not fair to put Ai's refusal to give up on their suicide plan on Yusaku.

It's also Ai's decision to activate TA.I. that made them lose the duel, so in the end Ai did self terminate. Even in the Yuma vs. Shark duel where Yuma is a character who will never sacrifice anyone even if the whole world is at stake, and kept throwing the duel and prolonging it to try to convince Shark, Yuma was unable to reach him in time. In both cases it's also Shark's decision to go all out for a final attack, and Yuma's decision to negate his own attack and not attack in the hopes fo reaching Shark that loses Shark the duel.

On the other hand, Judai's decision to fuse is him finally taking responsibility. Ai gave up on trying to change the future and himself whereas Judai's decision to fuse is him growing up from a child to an adult.

I also want to state I don't want to victim blame Ai for being suicidal, and not having the strength to go on. Not everyone does in that kind of situation, it's perfectly human (even though he's a robot).

Ai's story is also meant to be a tragedy. In tragedies characters succumb to their flaws instead of overcoming them. GX and VRAINS' third season are two entirely different genres of story, one is a love story where two traumatized people finally reunite and heal and Vrains is a tragedy where Yusaku can't save Ai.

Even then Vrains doesn't state that Ai doesn't deserve salvation, even if he chose to refuse help and didn't want to be saved. Yusaku's very last actions in the series are diving into the net to search for some remnant of Ai and it's implied after months of searching he's not stopping anytime soon. Even if Ai gave up on himself, Yusaku hasn't given up on Ai.

That's another thing even if Yusaku refused fusion with Ai, he still would have stayed by Ai's side. Ai literally simulated a thousand futures and Yusaku in every one of them stayed by Ai's side even if it led to his death. Yusaku still wishes to be with Ai and searches the net for Ai in the end of Vrains. He calls Ai the best partner even when Ai's in the process of breaking his heart.

So while both of these duels have very different endings, I'd say they both still advocate for forgiveness and love. Both duels are true to the message of YGO! that bonds are the most important thing and what give our life meaning - which I think is beautiful. People cannot live on their own and make bad choices when they're alone, but in the end it's bonds that save us.

"If there's no absolutes then what's left?"

"Bonds. Bonds between individuals. Bonds between one another. That's all there is. That also changes with time. A huge trigger can cause a huge change. Bonds may be severed but new bonds can also be formed. So living is a series of bonds. That's what life is."

Also as a final note on this post I'd like to thank @talaofthevalley their takes on Yusaku are all great and talking about Vrains meta with them really helped writing a lot of this post.

[daytaker]

Only Human

Solomon thinks he deserves a little more credit.

Ship: Solomon x Reader (One-Sided) Word Count: 823 NightBringer Timeline Cross-Posted on AO3

Welcome home! What did you get up to today?

Ah… Uh-huh…

…What a headache.

Brothers, brothers, brothers. It’s always all about the brothers for you. It’s a little unfair, you know. Who’s there to protect you when things with “the brothers” go south? Hm? That’s right. But you just keep on charging after them as if they’re all that matters in the world. Never mind that I’m the one who literally followed you back in time. Never mind that I’m the only one who knows everything about your situation. Never mind that I’m the only one here who doesn’t have any agenda besides getting you home.

…Fair point. I suppose saying I don’t have any agenda isn’t completely honest. But who would I be if I didn’t sprinkle in some friendly, misleading comments with a big smile on my face?

I’ve become very attached to you. I’m not ashamed of that, and I’ve never tried to hide it. You’re a very charming person, and it’s only natural that if angels and demons are susceptible to that charm, I would be too. I’m only human, after all.

But please don’t forget this: you’re only a human too.

Allow me to reassure you that I’ll never become so resentful that I’d leave you behind. You’re far too precious for me to pull a stunt like that, and you’re far too unpredictable for me to even pretend I’d do it. For all I know, the minute I turn my back, you’ll somehow find yourself contractually obligated to serve as Vizier to the Acting Demon Lord for the next seven centuries, or be married to three or four of the brothers all at once. No, that isn’t how things work in the Devildom, but I still wouldn’t be surprised if you somehow pulled it off by sheer force of will.

Why don’t you just calm down and settle down with me instead?

Of course, I don’t suppose I plan on ever settling down. It would be awfully hypocritical of me to hold you to a different standard just because I felt a little jealous.

Yes, I feel jealous. You know I’m not ashamed of my feelings. That’s something I learned to get past after my first century or two of life. Being ashamed over your own feelings is a good way to make yourself miserable.

So I’ve come up with a great way to make myself less jealous and make you less attached to these past versions of the brothers. Are you ready to hear it? Why are you making that face? It’s a great idea, trust me!

We should become lovers.

What’s that look? You’re going to hurt my feelings. Anyway, there are plenty of practical reasons to follow this course of action; reasons that have no basis in emotion at all. For one thing, my reputation precedes me, so you would benefit from the respect and fear that attach themselves to my name. It’s also possible that strengthening our bond might make it easier for you to follow my trail of energy back into the future. And on a more immediate, practical note, it would cut down on heating expenses if we shared a bed.

Haha! I’m kidding, I’m kidding! You should have seen your face. And I thought Lucifer could be scary!

It seems like I haven’t convinced you yet. You’re awfully stubborn, you know? But I like that about you. I like almost everything about you.

Everything except that irritating fascination you have with those seven.

I guess I haven’t been too open about how I felt about that in the past (or in the future?). But I may as well lay my cards out on the table now. I would love to know how it feels to have you look at me the way you look at them. Maybe if you just had that sort of connection with just one of them, I could accept it, but it’s an entire family! It shouldn’t be that hard to squeeze an eighth person into the fold. But sometimes it feels like you barely spare me a second glance. Me! The greatest sorcerer to ever live; a human so enigmatic that angels and demons and reapers can barely understand me. 

Do you have a thing for demons in particular? Is it the tails? I suppose I’ll always come up short where tails are concerned. Dare I ask why you find tails so appealing? Surely it isn't...?

Hahaha! Oh, man, that face was even scarier than the last one!

It doesn’t really matter, I guess. Adore whoever you want to adore; I’ll always be the one who taught you magic. And no one can take that away from me. Not even you, my adorable apprentice.

Just so we’re on the same page, was that a ‘no’ to becoming lovers?

What about sharing a bed?

Sigh… You’re as cold as ice sometimes. I love that about you.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Nobody's Girl - Chapter Three.

Check your girl out over here like Oprah. YOU get another chapter, and YOU get another chapter, and so on! I am seriously so flattered by everyone loving the story so far, and watching you all so rabidly consuming it makes me so very happy :)

With the time off work I have had recently, it's meant the story has virtually written itself, I'm up to chapter eleven in the writing, so what I thought would originally be a shorter series has turned into a longer one, meaning I can update more regularly. Well, I can only hope you like this chapter just as much as the previous two, and if you do, remember to leave me a little comment, or a reblog. You would have my eternal gratitude for doing so!

Previous chapters - One Two

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 4,300

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

Conversation. With a woman he wasn’t involved with. Truly, Luca couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever enjoyed such, but there he was on an otherwise quiet Thursday night experiencing just that. A soft flurry of snow gently drifted down outside, his apartment the warm cocoon he and Emily sequestered themselves within, sitting on the couch, mostly her sharing stories of her life before she’d literally fallen into his.  

“I remember there was this one time, back when I first got caught up with them, I was taken for a game at this house in Queens. Joey had loaned me to his brother, Giacinto, but of course there was the issue of how he could get me in at the table. So, he made a bet on a bet, I guess you’d call it. Strode in there and announced that he bet each player two hundred bucks they couldn’t beat me in a game of seven card stud.  

“Of course, part of the point of poker is counting cards, but I can do it faster and better, and I did. I won Giacinto five grand in one night, and most of the guys were pissed as hell that I’d beaten them, except for one. He was an older guy, thick glasses, big birthmark on his cheek. He told me I was every man’s worst nightmare, a pretty blonde with a brain, and he respected that.”  

“That’s Jimmy Phelan, Irish mob from Philly,” Luca nodded, quite impressed that she’d grabbed his attention.  

She clicked her fingers in remembrance. “Yeah, Jimmy. That was his name. I’ve met so many wiseguys that it’s hard to keep up with all of the names. I remember the ones who have curious nicknames, like Carmine the Boots, and Duck Foot Silv. I never asked how they got them, though.” 

Luca knew, of course. “Carmine is the boots ‘cuz that’s what he does to those who earn it, fits ‘em with a nice set of concrete boots and sends ‘em off for a swim in the Hudson River. Silvio, they call him duck foot ‘cuz the guy was born with webbed toes.” 

Her eyes widened, leaning forward in her seat. “Have you seen the toes?” 

“I have,” he smirked, scratching his jaw,. “He does this trick, sticks a quarter on his big toe and flicks it about ten feet in the air.” 

She snorted with giggles, sipping her drink and catching an ice cube to chew upon. The sound of her cracking it between her teeth did something to his insides that he couldn’t explain, but was very, very pleasant. “I bet he’s a good swimmer too, huh?” 

“Guy don’t need no flippers, that’s for fuckin’ sure.” 

He looked at her for a long moment, enchanted as usual by her loveliness. It was so easy with her. She knew exactly who and what he was, and she just accepted it without fuss, acting unguarded with him, rather than either trying to work him out or shrink in intimidation. It made a nice change, to simply experience a slice of normality like that, and especially with a woman. Most only wanted him for his money or the association of who he was.  

Or his cock. He was famed for having one hell of a nice cock, after a woman he’d bedded had been very loud in her praise of it one time.  

“So yeah, back to Jimmy being nice to me. He gave me a hundred dollars, said I’d earned it, being such a good card player. I was amazed, and I thought the cash was mine to keep, but not according to Giacinto. Copped a huge beating for that assumption, ended up with this.”  

Hooking her finger into her mouth, she pulled her cheek back to reveal the empty gum space where her back teeth should have sat, Luca feeling caustic within. How hard must he have punched her to knock a both a double and fucking wisdom tooth out, he had to wonder, remembering how tough his own had been to have extracted by a dentist.  

“Bastardo,” he hissed, picking up his drink and knocking it back, refilling it. “Ain’t no big man’s game, sluggin’ a broad. You wanna prove you have cojones? Fuckin’ walk up to the biggest fella in the room and crack him in the mouth. S’what I used to do whenever I got thrown in Sing Sing as a kid, not long after I arrived here from England.”  

“Have you ever done serious time for your endeavours?” she asked, lifting the wool shawl where it had slipped from her shoulders, Luca wishing she’d left it. Any chance he got to view more of her beautiful, lily skin, and he shamelessly took it. It had been gnawing at him for the past fourteen days since she’d been there, chewing away at his resolve like a starving wolf.  

Usually, he’d have made his move by now on somebody he coveted. Hell, his record was ten seconds upon seeing a woman he desired, walking up to her and brashly asking a simple, three worded question. “Wanna fuck me?” No woman ever refused him. With Emily, though, because of her sheer loveliness, as tempting as it would be to corrupt, he held himself back.  

It was a fierce internal conflict he waged war with, his rampant libido dictating he simply take her to bed and bounce her on his cock until she screamed his name, the very little morality left within him castigating such, because of how innocent and sweet the girl was. He couldn’t tarnish something that lovely and pure with the infection of his darkness. Until he could come to some resolve, he supposed he’d have to simply deal with the juxtaposition of wanting to cherish her like a princess and fuck her like a whore.  

She was a billion miles away from the latter, though. Hence the conflict. 

Also, he got the distinct impression that she was still too scared of him. For the most part, she was settled around him, a little shy still, but definitely comfortable enough to open up to him and talk, just like she was doing on that particular evening. If he showed the weight of his desire for her, though, she’d surely bolt. The last thing he wanted was for her to flee.  

“I did a few years for theft, when I was eighteen,” he eventually replied, once he’d managed to finally pull himself back out of his thoughts. “Few times being locked up here and there in the time between, too.”  

“Don’t you mafia guys have the police on payroll, or something?” 

That was another reason why he held himself back. Would she truly want to remain in the world she’d been held prisoner in, should he instigate anything with her? Then again, at least this time she would have a choice. “We do now, yeah. Hence why I ain’t seen a cell in a while.”  

“I think I’d cry if I was ever arrested. Jail sounds scary,” she spoke, sipping her drink, her sweetness making his chest hurt. Why did she have to be the loveliest little thing he’d ever met? It was making him crazy, the want to protect her, the need to fuck her dirty, both colliding with the resolve that he’d solely keep here there until he knew all he wanted about the Calabrese family.  

It was a resolve that seemed to fracture away with every second that passed in her company.

She’d given him very useful information so far, too. Safe house locations his guys had duly gone in and looted, details of deals that she’d been made privy to that he’d been able to scupper before they’d had a chance to come to fruition. Because of Emily, he had the upper hand in the war against the family who – in his mind, at least – needed to show respect and fall back into line.  

What would happen when the well that was her information dried up, though? What, he was simply meant to let this beautiful little creature, this utter mythical princess of a woman unlike any others he’d encountered simply be on her way, and leave his life with a little less pure, iridescent sparkle in her wake? 

He was glad of the distraction when a heavy fist pounding the door below interrupted their evening, Emily nearly jumping out of her skin.  

“S’okay,” he assured her as he stood, resting a hand to her shoulder. “That’s Angelo, he has a habit of knocking like he’s the fuckin’ police.” He headed to the stairs, descending, opening the door but remaining out of her sight as he and Angelo exchanged hushed whispers. Luca appeared again after a few minutes, looking lamentable, but also angry as he pulled himself into his thick, black coat. 

“I have to go out, something I gotta attend to,” he spoke, Emily rising to her feet. 

“Oh, alright. When will you be back?” 

He shrugged, not looking pleased at all. “Hopefully not too long, but don’t wait on me, alright?” 

She nodded, and then completely on blind impulse, reached for his face, pulling him down to her tiny level and kissing his cheek. “Be careful.” 

His heart all but broke the ribs covering it with the force of its rapid thuds. He winked, thumb stroking the apple of her cheek. “I will, doll.”  

As he walked back down the stairs, he could still feel the soft press of her lips against his cheek, his pulse amped up from even the tiniest display of affection from his houseguest. He truly hadn’t expected it, and when he should have left the building with nothing but business on his mind, instead, it was only getting back to Emily again that occupied his thoughts.  

Meanwhile, the girl herself flopped back onto the couch, sighing as she covered her face with her hands. “Oh, god help me. I want that man so badly!” she grimaced, groaning with discomfort. Truly, she didn’t know how the hell to play it, either, feeling so conflicted.

Sometimes, he’d flirt with her, but she was too shy to reciprocate it, meaning he’d pull back and cool down with how he acted around her. Other times, she knew only too well he was trying to wheedle information regarding the Calabrese’s from her, information she found herself giving, getting herself furtherly wrapped up in a world she knew truly wasn’t any good for her.  

How much danger was she in, though, from her place beneath the albatross-like wings of Luca Changretta? Nobody would be fool enough to touch her. However, that was only if she became more to him than whatever she was, she supposed. Then again, he had told her several times already she was safe with him. 

Falling into a silly daydream, she imagined him taking her in his arms, kissing her, those big, tattooed hands laying worship upon her, that sultry voice of his speaking his wants and desires. She let her mind wander for so long that she was still partially in a daze when she heard a rapid knock at the door, followed by the creak of it opening, the music no longer playing.  

“Luca? It’s only me,” a female voice called, her heeled feet alighting the stairs. Before she could speak, a buxom looking redhead appeared, her face surprised as she took Emily in. “Oh, hi! I’m Maggie, and you are?”  

“Hi, Maggie. I’m Emily, and Luca is out,” she spoke, picking up her drink and finishing it. 

“Oh, oh alright. I must’a missed him leaving,” she muttered, holding two large jute bags in her hands. “I was just bringin’ up the takings to him, but I guess I can leave ‘em with you. You’re his new gal, right?” 

She shook her head. “No, just his, uh, his friend.”  

Maggie snorted, placing the takings down on the coffee table. “Luca don’t have gals who are just friends, sweetie pie.” She viewed her carefully, watching the way the young blonde blushed furiously, reaching for the vodka bottle. Only a tiny drizzle remained within.  

“Damn,” Emily pouted, “I drank it all.”  

“Hey, I gotta load of premixed cocktails I’d otherwise throw out. Fancy coming and helping me drink ‘em while I clean up for the night?” Maggie offered, suddenly feeling like she would be being rude to go and pour it all away, and leave the girl upstairs alone, waiting on a man who would likely be gone for hours. Especially too after she’d blatantly embarrassed the hell out of her by her assertion over her boss and his lack of female friends.  

Who was she to judge? Stranger things had happened, she guessed, although she had to admit, she was very curious. If Luca wasn’t giving her a good fucking on the regular, then just what was she doing there? She had noticed her boss not present down in the joint for the last two weeks, with none of his usual rotation of females making their way up to the apartment. Curiosity demanded an answer. 

Smiling, Emily rose to her feet, stuffing them into her shoes. “Sure, that’d be nice.”  Following Maggie back down, she was ushered over to the bar, taking a seat on one of the high stools, the clean up in full effect as people swept, tidied and mopped, the band disassembling their instruments and returning them to their respective cases.  

“Here, I hope you like Manhattan’s,” Maggie spoke, pouring a large measure into a copper mug and passing it over, topping off her own and holding it out. “Cheers, Emily.” 

“Cheers.” She took a swig, the alcohol hitting her throat so hard, she almost coughed, the redhead throwing her head back. 

“Sorry, sugar. I make ‘em potent!” she smirked, taking a soapy cloth and beginning to clean down the bar. “So, you and Luca. What’s the story, darl?”  

Emily didn’t really feel comfortable with revealing the whole truth to a perfect stranger, even though obviously she was a trusted person by the man himself. She wouldn’t have been working in his speakeasy if she wasn’t. “I’m staying with him for a little while.” 

“And you ain’t knockin’ boots with him?” she was then asked. 

“No, definitely not,” she replied, taking another sip of the rocket fuel in her grasp.  

Maggie raised an eyebrow, beginning to pick up liquor bottles from behind the bar and clean the runs and drips away with her cloth. “But you wanna, amirite? Everyone wants to fuck Luca, ‘cept me. I like ‘em a little prettier.”  

Watching her wink as a cute, almost angelic looking blonde saxophone player walked past and waved goodnight, Emily caught her drift immediately. Turning back to Maggie, she shrugged lightly. “I mean, I don’t know. I don’t think I’m his type.” By that point, she’d seen a picture of Filomena, his ex-wife when he’d shown her some photographs of his children. She was dark haired, buxom, Italian and glamorous. Everything she wasn’t.  

“True,” Maggie spoke, pausing to light a cigarette, her cleaning endeavours finished. “But men like somethin’ a lil’ different, they’ll find themselves urging for a taste of the unfamiliar when it’s presented to ‘em. You should give him a go, darl. I hear he’s good with his cock.”  

It was an unfortunate time to take a sip of the lethal Manhattan, Emily half spraying it back into the mug at her brazenness. Maggie couldn’t resist in teasing further. “One of the dancers here was fucking him a while back. Said he was hung like a bull and had the stamina of a guy half his age.”  

Emily felt herself shrinking with every word, Maggie throwing her head back and laughing hoarsely. “Oh, ain’t you a cutie! Gettin’ all shy. Sorry, I know I’m brash. I’ll behave.”  

Perhaps having a female perspective into her predicament might be helpful, she then pondered. Maggie seemed nice, friendly, too. It wasn’t like Emily had a whole lot in the way of friends, either, no gal pals to run her thoughts by. “Okay, so the truth is, I do want to,” she began, Maggie’s face lighting up as she leaned over the bar, huddling close. 

“Tell me more, sugar!” 

Pausing, she took another sip of her drink for courage. “I want to, but I never have before. With any man.”  

The barmaid’s eyes all but fell out of her skull. “Really?” 

She nodded.  

“But... why? Sex is amazing with the right guy!” 

Just then, a door flew open down at the other end of the room, one of the dancers striding out, mid-tirade. “It’s the fuckin’ same with all you fuckin’ Italian jerks!” she screamed, the guy following her looking nonchalant. “All of youse expect us to fuckin’ suck dick, but when it comes to returning it, nadda, nothin’, no sale! Would it fuckin’ kill you to eat me out just once, Luciano?” 

He shrugged, lighting a cigarette. “I ain’t about that.” 

“Yeah, me and my thirsty kitty cat know only too well, you two-bit fuck! We’re done!” She was out of the joint in a blur of sequins and fury, Emily and Maggie sharing a wide-eyed look at having front row seats to such a show. 

“Yeah, he ain’t the right guy,” the latter snorted, jerking her thumb in the direction where Luciano, one of Luca’s street guys had just walked in, softly cussing to himself in Italian.  

“To answer your question, I don’t know, really,” Emily confessed, thinning her lips momentarily. “I’ve never found anyone I like enough to do it with, I guess. It’s like I’m a beacon for shitty guys with bad intentions.”  

Her confidant didn’t truly know how to answer that, since Luca did seem to go through women like they were entering and exiting in a revolving door. However, there was a plus point. “Well, if you decided to, at least it wouldn’t be a lousy first experience for ya. He’s forty-three, the man has heaps of experience, so it wouldn’t be like my first. Two pumps and a squirt, baby. I was so disappointed,” 

The women both snorting laughing, Emily throwing her head back as she truly began to cackle loudly. Oh, she was funny, this brazen woman who had taken her under her wing and plied her with lethally potent cocktails. While she was beginning to relax and find herself making a new friend, the topic of their conversation was walking into a speakeasy in Bushwick, his crew around him.  

“Luca, glad you could join me,” Giacinto Calabrese spoke, leaning back in his seat. “Drink?”  

“No thanks,” he drawled through the chew on his toothpick, “won’t be stayin’ all that long. So, Angelo here tells me you gotta deal for me, huh?” 

His adversary gestured to a chair, Luca taking a seat, his eyes never leaving the man as he felt his mood darkening, looking at his hands. Those were the knuckles that had smashed the teeth out of her mouth. “I do, because you have somethin’ of ours we want returned to us, but I’m a fair man. I’m happy to exchange.” Lifting his chin, he pulled his cigarettes out, lighting one up. “Give me the girl, and I’ll walk away from the warehouses in Yonkers. You have my word.” 

He rolled his tongue against his cheek, chuckling a deadly hiss. “Your word is worth shit, and Emily ain’t for sale, pal.” 

“Oh!” The wise assed man laughed, entertained. “On first name terms with the little puttana now, huh? Wait, I can’t call her that, though. Bitch is more frigid than a fuckin’ nun!”  

Luca remained still, but his eyes moved with all the intent of a predator locking onto its target, slowly pulling the toothpick from between his lips. “The fuck you just call her, stronzo? A bitch?” 

“Yeah,” Giacinto laughed, “I called her a bitch, and...”  

That was as far as he got before the lion that was the head of the Changretta mob pounced, grabbing his collar and pounding his head down onto the table, their respective guys all drawing their weapons. 

“You’re outnumbered, fellas,” Angelo rumbled, tutting. “Put ‘em down.” The men fell back, all watching the scene unfold before them.  

Luca loomed like a shadow of death, his hand holding Giacinto fast against the smooth, dark wood. “Did you call her a bitch when you knocked her fuckin’ teeth out? Did ya? Tell me, how hard does a guy like you have to slug a tiny little thing like her to crack the goddamned teeth from her jaw? This hard?” His fist met his face in a sickeningly strong blow, the piece of shit beneath his grasp grunting in pain. “This hard?” He punched him again, this time loosening one of the teeth he was aiming for, Luca hauling him up and beginning to lay repetitive punches to his face, Giacinto flying back to the floor.  

With his rage pumping like water through a broken dam, Luca loomed over him, pulling a flick knife from his pocket and releasing the blade, holding it so hard against his cheek, his blood began to seep from beneath the press. “You ever speak her name again and I will cut your fuckin’ tongue from your head. The Yonkers warehouses are mine now, too, just for the fuckin’ gall of you. Give your fuckin’ father my goddamned regards, Giacinto.”  

“Fuck you, Luca!” he spat, shame and rage coiling through him.  

“Fuck me, huh?” he laughed, low and deadly. “Nah, kid. Tell me, you right-handed? You are, aren’t ya? It was your right hand you used to beat her, wasn’t it?” Wrenching his arm up, he grasped his wrist, bringing the knife down between his third and fourth fingers, beginning to slice through skin, sinew and tendons. Giacinto screamed, Luca holding the knife towards Angelo, needing both hands to grab the second and third, then fourth and fifth fingers, grasping hard before literally ripping his hand apart.  

“Can’t go punching little girls no longer now, can you?” Standing, he left him screaming on the floor, looking to his guys. “Step down from the warehouses as of tonight, or I do worse to all six of youse.” With that, Luca and his eight cohorts left the speakeasy, heading back to their cars, Brooklyn bound. Entering his apartment just under a half hour later, he made sure he was quiet, not wanting to wake the beauty in his bed.  

Hanging his coat and jacket, he unlaced his shoes, removing his tie as he walked over to the bed, just about able to see her outline there curled up, sleeping soundly. Reaching toward her face, he gently swept the platinum strands of hair that had fallen loose back behind her ear, tenderly stroking the apple of her cheek with the back of his fingers.  

He realised right there that she could never again utter anything about the Calabrese’s, and he wouldn’t care at all. He didn’t need her for information. He just needed her to be safe.  

The twisted irony wasn’t lost on him, though, that the very person she wasn’t safe from was the one whose bed she slept soundly in, but for very different reasons than what the Calabrese’s represented. He lingered there only a moment longer before going to the bathroom and undressing, pulling on his grey and white striped pyjama bottoms, heading for the couch.  

“Luca?”  

He actually jumped a little, hearing her soft voice suddenly sound through the dark. “Yeah, doll?” Turning, he watched her sit up, peeling the bed clothes back as she shuffled over, patting the mattress. “It’s freezing. You can’t keep sleeping on the couch. I don’t mind sharing.”  

He hesitated only a second before walking over, climbing in next to her, his heart beginning to race. Her warmth was the most alluring intoxication he’d ever felt near to him, wanting nothing but to wrap himself around her, meld his body to hers, tell her in no uncertain terms that Giacinto Calabrese would never dare touch her again.  

Lying there, Emily could feel the tension radiating from him, not knowing why he was in such a state, but sensing it all the same. Had something happened, while he was out, something to spark his temper, amp his ire? She felt him turn away from her, turning over herself and hesitating a moment before putting the advice she’d had from Maggie to good use. ‘Just move on him. You’re beautiful, sugar. He won’t turn you down.’  

It wasn’t necessarily a sexual advance, as Maggie had been specifically advocating, but it was a step in the right direction. Wrapping her arm around him, she pressed herself against his back, resting her hand to his chest. Her heart almost leapt into her throat when she felt him grasp her hand, thumb stroking, placing a kiss upon her fingers.  

He clutched her hand tight, feeling her breath flutter against his shoulder blades, his heart still hammering. If he turned to her, that would be it. He wouldn’t be able to hang onto the bull within him, goring against the very last of his soft flesh in a bid for freedom. Flesh that had softened for her. 

He remembered how he’d felt, punching Giacinto repeatedly in the face, until he had expelled blood with every groaned breath, all for her, because of her, because no man would ever make the sweet little darling curled against him feel less than all she was ever again.  

But still, he didn’t dare turn over. It’d be like Satan himself defiling the purest of angels. If only Luca knew, though, as he wrestled with the beast within, that the only thing the angel pressed against his back wanted was to feel the burn of his lust against her skin.  

[kandicon]

The more I think about how a human, modern au Toy Soldier wouldn't work the more obsessed I get with TRYING to make it work and frankly there's only a few more loops in this self dooming cycle before I make a college au for all of them.

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Okay I saved this post to my drafts and then immediately had more thoughts on this hypothetical college au. All the mechs should be as close to their canon events/back stories as possible to avoid having wildly different personalities (obviously there will still be very differing personalities due to not being immortal space pirates, but this would be easiest). It would be a extremely sketchy comedy of errors.

Obviously this takes place in community college because community colleges are just like that™

Put under the cut because it got a bit long.

Jonny:

Still killed his dad and the entirety of the casino.

Using the money he got from the casino and Jack to fund his way through a college hours away from his hometown.

Is constantly paranoid over someone coming after him for his murders or finding out that his highschool diploma is a forgery (he didn't finish his last two years because of said murders).

Ashes:

Being put through college by the Lucky Sevens, and still does tracking work for them despite only being able to physically visit their turf over break.

Smooth Mickey has only just started working with the Aces in Ashes' freshman year.

It is going to be a WILD senior year when Ashes breaks open Mickey's scheme.

Banned from the card games club.

Tim:

Transfer student from London that only entered college in the first place to dodge the draft. He never expected to enter college in the first place and is therefore woefully unprepared.

Wildly protective over Bertie, who transferred with him and is the reason he dodged the draft in the first place.

Not as murderous as the canon Tim, but certainly getting there over immigration and transfer laws in the US.

Still has the first name of Gunpowder.

It is gonna be a WILD senior year when he and Bertie get caught up in the Lucky Sevens debacle and Bertie dies.

Raphaella:

Nobody knows what major she's taking, because by all intents and purposes it appears to be all of them.

She's breaking into the chem lab and making lsd after hours to fund her way through college.

Has cute little wings on her backpack that she made herself, but in reality they're just hidden storage compartments that she's been using to steal lab equipment.

Ivy:

Nothing about her is different except for the fact her autism is diagnosed this time.

She works at the community library and the college library. She started her major in library sciences, only to discover that she already knew more about it than her professors, so now she's an English lit major.

Marius:

Also got in on forged documents, but his are significantly shittier than Jonny's or Ashes' because he didn't have the money to pay someone for it. Still nobody comments on the birth certificate with "Byron" covered over with off-color white-out and replaced with "Marius.

He also completely erased the gender category while he was at it. Again, nobody who actually looks at these documents is paid enough to care.

Still missing an arm and he has broken up AND started fights by hitting people with his prosthetic.

Getting his doctorate in computer science, but usually does not tell people exactly what he's majoring in when he tells people he's going to be a doctor.

Nastya:

Fleeing a Russian rebellion and very obviously comes from wealth.

Her backstory is the same, just without the robots. Her history of wealth and terrible attempts at hiding her accent are painfully obvious to everyone she interacts with.

Double majoring in engineering and computer science. Unintentionally breaks Marius' scheme open when she asks to copy his notes when she missed a day for a class they share (she would have broken it faster if she knew what he was doing).

Was assigned as Raphaella's roommate and she gets free estrogen in exchange for ignoring everything else that's going on.

Got dragged into the friend group by Jonny after he came over one day to hang out with Raphaella and they bonded over disabling circulatory issues.

Brian:

On the run from the religious cult he grew up in, which he was kicked out of because he got internet access and started learning about reality.

Still has a hard time believing most people he'll talk to will accept basic facts like "the Earth is a sphere"

Did not have to forge papers to get in, but he would later get recommended to a good forger by Jonny and get some restraining orders out of it.

Ambulatory wheelchair user (because it makes me happy) with an extreme case of moral ocd

The Toy Soldier:

Holy shit this bitch had a bad childhood

In a dissociative state a good 90% of the time and has huge sensory issues with the feeling of its own flesh

Goes by "TS" and adamantly refuses to tell anybody why.

Being put through college by their wealthy adoptive mother. Definitely lied about the college being prestigious and doesn't want to examine exactly why it did that or why it felt so soul-crushingly important to get out of the country.

Was adopted by the widow after her husband died at war. Was basically treated as one family member swapped for another and was expected to grow up in his image and to be proper.

Walking on eggshells 24/7. Orders might as well still be a physical necessity to it for how much of a compulsion they are. Will jump to do anything to appease the people around it if they show any indication of being upset.

Tim becomes its first friend because him and Bertie are the only other transfer students from London. It rather likes talking about guns with him and giving away all its care packages to him so it doesn't dwell on why they make it so uncomfortable.

Starts off majoring in military studies over the ages, but will switch to general music studies after meeting the Angel.

Spoiler alert: it will still kill the Angel after she gets into a relationship with someone else, but thankfully this just makes a wild junior year instead of adding to the already wild senior year.

Obviously they're all still in a band together. And they're the most dysfunctional friend group this poor college has ever seen.

[y-rhywbeth2]

Lore: Elven Culture #1

(An incomplete compilation.) Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess and it's borderline impossible to cover everything. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

Elves Physiology | Culture | Surface Elves | Religion | History | Homelands | Half-elves --- WIP

--- How to flip somebody off in elven culture. Random elven pan-cultural highlights ranging from marital traditions to poker.

Key elven philosophical concepts that inform their entire cultures. Farming, architecture, opinions on undeath, stages of life (Astarion's 200 years too old to be acting like an ardavanshee, but there we go)

Default elven society, including the family units (Clans and Houses), nobility, and the absolute monarchies with the divine right of kings that're tasked with herding cats.

Forewarning, this is a long post! And I still cut stuff... I was going to include the specifics of the seven individual surface elven cultures, but it was getting too damn long.

---

Random little things before we get into the wordy stuff:

The equivalent to giving somebody the finger amongst elves is to crook the middle finger inwards towards oneself and then bring it upwards in a diagonal movement across the body. For the greatest show of insolence, the elf in question may then hold eye contact and slowly lick the tip of that finger. I have no context for how this come to be, or why it's insulting, but I'm sure it's quite the story.

Elves rarely make their piercings out of metal, instead preferring to craft them from the bone of their ancestors and departed loved ones.

The elven term for their own people is Tel'Quessir ("of the people," or simply "the people). The name refers to the fact that all elves are inherently spiritually linked to each other, the Seldarine and the Weave. They are capable of a form of low-level telepathy where they can share emotions, surface level thoughts and reverie with each other. As a result, non-elves who are not part of this interconnected whole are N'Tel'Quessir or N'Quess - "not of the people."

The elven spirit, or soul, is referred to as ues. The ability for elves to link their minds and share feelings and thoughts is a state referred to as "communion."

The elven term for "stick-in-the-mud" is irrquarlan - which I'd imagine is often used by moon and copper elves to refer to sun elves.

When an issue is considered to be "black and white" - as in a choice lacking any moral ambiguity, where one is wrong and the other right - elves would say it is "sun and moon," as in anybody with working eyes can tell the difference between sunlight and moonlight.

The elven equivalent of "no shit sherlock" is “Trees grow, no?”

Elves have a gambling game called kholiast, involving a deck of over 1,000 cards. The hands are determined randomly by dice roll, and the point system would apparently "drive even the most dedicated Candlekeep scholar completely mad." Needless to say, moon elves love it and probably invented it.

Haven't found much on elven coinage, but the one familiar in human lands is the "blueshine" coins; silver coins with a blue-green lustre bearing the image of a crescent moon (the holy symbol of Corellon Larethian). Presumably equivalent to a silver coin in any currency.

While they can be made of the materials used in reality, elven bowstrings may be crafted from spider silk (especially if of dark elven make), elven hair, and sometimes magically-treated spun silver.

Elven fashion varies by specific culture, location and individual tastes. The trend is for loose and flowing garments with no footwear (except for the sun elves, who refuse to go out in public without some kind of shoes). An alternative to shoes is to use some kind of minor magical accessory that allows one to hover just above the ground, able to glide around without getting one's feet dirty or damaged. They tend to have few or no taboos about nudity, so garments may be quite revealing. Elves believe that their dress should be a reflection of their home nation, and the peace and prosperity that it cultivates.

-

The generic term of reference for ones committed romantic partners is one's "mate." Elves practice marriage, and the terms "husband" and "wife" have been seen, although it seems "consort" is just as - if not more - popular.

Elven marriages may be sealed through the use of one or two lower level High Magic rituals;

Quamaniith, "the vow made tangible," causes a vow made to be woven into physical form. In the case of a wedding, it's about the size of a fist. It usually takes the form of a stone, carved with inscriptions relating to the vow, though artistic mages may craft a figurine. When used for marriage vows, the created object is called an Aestar'Khol, a "marriage stone." Should the two divorce, or betray their vows, the stone will shatter. There is no other way to damage it, it will always remain perfectly unblemished.

U'Aestar'Kess, "One Heart, One Mind, One Breath" - this ritual creates a permanent passive mental bond between an elf and another living being (who may also be an elf), and it sees use most often as part of marriage rites. It allows the linked beings to know instinctively when their partner is in danger, detect and sometimes share their mood, and if they concentrate they can communicate telepathically.

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Due to the fact that elves don't sleep, instead spending four hours in reverie, an elven home will not include a bedroom. Personal rooms resemble something closer to studies and sitting rooms; furnished with comfortable chairs, lounges and divans, furnished with personal affects and whatever projects the owner might be working on.

The other side effect of the reverie is that since elves have a full 20 hours of activity, can see just fine at night, and don't necessarily have fixed sleeping hours, elven communities don't fluctuate in activity levels. Villages, towns and cities will be as busy in the dead of the night as they are at every hour, and elves have more free time than others.

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Elves have perfected birth control. While technically the magic rituals involved in this came about for practical reasons - including ensuring a child would not be conceived in harsh conditions like famines, plagues and wars, where its birth would cause suffering for both it and its family - elves now just use it as an everyday thing when they don't want to get pregnant. No elf will be having children if they don't want them, those who do want them will only be conceiving them when they intend to, and attempting to change their mind will be considered an infringement of their personal freedoms and bodily autonomy, and be met with hostility.

-

Linguistics: The elven language is called Lalur, "the Singing." All elven languages are written in the Espruar script, which has two forms. One features more loops and curls, and the other features a series of curved lines, dots and dashes, which has come into fashion more recently. Another elven language is Seldruin, which is almost extinct. It's the language used in the casting of elven High Magic, and is written in a unique script called Hamarfae.

Local dialects, informal and formal registers and drifts occur all over the place.

Elven accents are usually described as "musical" - they tend to pronounce "s" softly, drawing it out and their voices shift up and down the vocal register more than is usual. Elven vocal chords are odd, allowing them to reach over an octave-and-a-half, which they can sustain for longer than a human could. Elven vocal chords are capable of producing two completely different notes at the same time. The overall effect of the elven voice and accent is likened to chiming, or little bells.

Elven songs are usually either wordless vocalisation, or feature multiple overlapping voices singing different lyrics. The typical "mood" of the music varies by culture: for example, sun elves prefer solemn songs with gravitas; wood elves enjoy a good rhythm; moon elves prefer something fun, whimsical, and sometimes bawdy. Some elves have a rare genetic quirk that allows them to use their vocal chords to speak two different things at the same time; the "secondary" voice is much fainter, and limited, but in music is allows the singer to produce a layered, echoing quality.

Elven musical performances feature galadrae - three dimensional illusions depicting scenes to go along with the song, not dissimilar to what one might see at a modern concert.

Musical instruments most often seen are woodwinds and strings, especially harps (which are strongly associated with elves). Elves are the only people thus far who have worked out how to build their instruments to be capable of sustain. Elven music has been compared (out of universe) to Enya, Loreena McKennit, Genesis and ELO.

Music and song is an important part of romance in elven culture... alongside erotic dances, apparently. But anyway, courting is accomplished by writing each other love songs and singing them to each other, or by composing poems for similar effect.

Non-elven languages are rather charmingly referred to as Glahkery, which translates into something like "strifeful sounds."

-

Key Philosophies: An important part of elven cultures is the concept of laraelever - technically referring to undamaged forest, "as it should be." This does not mean nature should be "pristine" or untouched by humanoid life. It means that the way the world is found in its untouched state, unmodified by another's desire, is how it is meant to be. The lives of others should not impose on the world more than they need to. The natural world is to be without blight, unburnt and unharmed by careless logging, overhunting or depletion of resources.

It also applies to the elven approach to life and the passage of time: things will generally occur when they're ready and grow/proceed at the speed they're intended to. One should never rush. Non-elves and younger elves tend to find this attitude incredibly frustrating, while "adult" elves find them dangerously impatient.

This may also be a part of why elven cultures tend to value independence and individual freedom - that one must "accept life as it is", implies you can't force things to be anything else.

The "way life is supposed to be" does not include dark magics that tamper with natural cycles, and the elven word for undeath is mormhaor - "corrupted death." Undeath is a blasphemous attempt to impose one's will on the world and force it into a shape in the most horrific way possible, and is heavily tied to the loss and violation of free will, and its believed that undeath destroys the soul (whether this is correct or not in D&D varies by source). The state is generally considered worse than death - the elf is cut off from their people, their gods and their path, and denied their chance for spiritual enlightenment and the afterlife. The sole acceptable form of undeath exists in the baelnorn; a form of elven lich that was created willingly and is sustained by positive energy instead of negative, in the name of continuing some duty or other for the sake of their people. They are sponsored by the Seldarine, and tolerated by the elven deity of death. Elves respect their sacrifice, but are usually still uneasy around them.

This philosophy appears in the rest of their societies in the way that they build their homes and furniture; a chair may be "constructed" of wood that was carefully grown into shape and harvested with careful consideration to the timing, rather than by unnecessarily cutting down an entire living tree and taking more wood than is technically needed and whittling it down to shape.

Elven architecture is built to complement its natural surroundings, blending in with it. The design concept is that a building should seen as much a part of the landscape as the trees or mountains and enhance their beauty. To help these buildings blend in, elven doors are designed to disappear into their surroundings, and they can be incredibly annoying for outsiders to spot (elven children grow up learning to see them, and so elves don't have this problem).

Buildings are preferably constructed by growing trees into shape rather than by constructing from timber or stone. If they are made of stone, they're still usually "grown" by shaping them with magic, creating a seamless mineral structures.

From non-elven perspectives, an elven city resembles a garden or park more than a settlement. They favour building in the trees themselves more than anything else (for example, the city of Suldanessellar in Baldur's Gate 2 is built on platforms built around the trees, high in the canopy). The higher constructions are linked by bridges and swinging ropes.

Ground dwellings are typically built for children, the elderly, and the disabled, and others who might be unsafe with heights and getting up and down them. It's also where elven realms that have contact with outsiders build their inns, taverns, warehouses and businesses. Elves don't clear the area a great deal when building their ground dwellings, their roads and streets are built around pre-existing natural structures and can meander a lot.

The ground level and higher parts of the city may be linked by teleport magics and enchanted platforms that function as lifts/elevators.

This preference to leave things untouched doesn't mean that elves never alter the world for their own desires - especially since obsessive, eccentric artists are a staple of the elven population. Wealthy Houses are known to make roofing materials out of precious stones. Some cities, such as Leuthilspar, get artistic with their roads. The main road there is magically constructed from some kind of glassy, clear crystal and is nicknamed the Diamond Road.

Each building typically belongs to a single Clan or House (often the building is an entire living, ancient tree), and if they belong to a culture that builds tombs, they will also have a family tomb. The rest of the city, outside of residential buildings, is not considered owned by the elves but simply under their care and stewardship. It belongs to the other lives as much as them. Elven communities often have neighbours from other fey races; dryads, faerie dragons, treants, fauns, nymphs, pixies, etc. Elves and fey tend to be relatively close, and the elven and seelie fey pantheons are often worshipped by all of them.

Elves do not farm in pastures and fields - it's more that they cultivate the world around them without disturbing it too much (I don't remember the technical agricultural jargon here.) They'll try not to disturb the rest of the ecosystem too much, but elven farmers will nurture the plants they desire while removing harmful plants and pests. They don't introduce plants or disturb the soil, merely encourage what's already there for healthier and higher yields of whatever grows. A lot of outsiders can easily stroll through a farm without realising it. Farmers are the only elves who count the passing of years, due to the need to keep track of crop yields and the ages of plants and animals. The equivalent of a year to elves is a grouping of four years known as an aeloulaev, or more commonly as a pyesigen - "four snows" (plural pyesigeni).

While Houses might have their lorekeepers, who preserve and record history, the typical elven opinion on time tends to be that "history is the weave of things outside of life, not for those still within its loom." They see history in their reverie, they don't need to worry about it in their waking hours.

-

Yet another elven philosophy is of the Road of Life: a multi-staged, twisting spiritual path every elf walks, and one with many potential branching paths to explore.

It is, in part, a shared path because all elves are part of the greater whole that is the Tel'Quessir - but at the same time, no elf can walk the path for another. All should care for the community and support fellow elves in being able to walk their path, so that the community can support them as they walk theirs; “We are on this shared path together, but at the same time all of us are finding our own way.”

Elves under 100 years old are walking the first section of the road. Their life experience and perspective is the equivalent of a human of the same age. They don't yet perceive time and think in terms of the passage of decades and centuries as a "mature" elf does, and from their elder's perspective are incredibly (annoyingly) impatient. Due to this gap in understanding, young elves often find themselves more comfortable in the company of humans, who share their feelings and perceptions.

It's the elves in their first stage of the road who are usually found adventuring and living in human cities, they're "whimsical dabblers, ‘flighty’ and inclined to plunge into something new or [grow] tired of something and move on without feeling the need to shoulder responsibilities, or [care] overmuch about consequences," "...almost like the humans in their passions of youth, and they adapt to their more transient surroundings. They eat over-spiced animal flesh and other abominable foods; they wield simpler, cruder, combat-oriented human magics; and they even mate with non-elves."

These younger elves, in the throes of rebellious youth and lack of patience, may be prone to selfishness, ruthless ambition and disrespecting their elders as they turn their nose up at elven values. This particular phase is referred to as Ardavanshee - "the restless young ones."

Older elves mostly leave the youth alone to make their own mistakes, assuming they'll grow out of their crueller and selfish behaviours with time and experience.

An elf under 90 years old is not considered experienced enough to be allowed to hold leadership positions.

All elves will begin their journey on the road with a basic magical education during childhood: Magic is an everyday part of elven cultures at every level of society, and every elf grows up surrounded by it. Even the copper elves, who have little interest in arcane magic, surround themselves with druidry.

Basic martial training in traditional elven martial arts is also part of the standard for all elven cultures, involving the bow, sword and rapier - elven blades tend towards being long, very thin and flexible. Elves have a long and bloody history of conflict, and every one of them is be expected to be able to defend themselves and their home, should the need arise.

Whatever other education their family sets for them, elves have childhoods much like any other race's children. They learn their history through creative retellings form their elders and are let loose to run around and engage in physical activities - climbing trees and swimming. They're taken to play in the outdoors and encouraged to take interest in the natural world, learning of the animals and plants they share the world with.

Reaching the elven age of majority, and the second stage of the path, occurs some time in their second century of life (120 years old, on average). As they mature and outlive the human lifespan they tend to settle into the elven ways, and focus on their spiritual ties to their communities and faith.

Mature elves typically take things very slowly. They spend a lot of time in contemplation, consider all facets and nuances in a problem, and try to predict all potential consequences that could be born of a choice (even those domino effects that may occur decades after the fact). They prefer to implement these choices very slowly, watching what ripples are caused through the course of years and responding accordingly - they may continue, stop, or make revisions as they go.

Occasionally an "adult" finds themselves drawn back to adventuring and a faster paced life outside of the elven homelands. This is accepted as simply a natural part of that elf's particular path.

The other branch on the road is one where an elf finds a passion and devotes themselves to it; fine art, playwriting, magic, architecture, the martial arts, literature, faith, music, whatever. They become hyperfixated on whatever has caught their eye; they keep the company of others who share their interest and talk about it to the exclusion of almost everything else (others are warned to beware engaging an elf in conversation about a topic dear to them, because they will tell you every single detail there is to know and will not stop).

Elves will dedicate months and years preparing for their projects; spending time in reverie and contemplation as they meditate on ideas, praying to the gods for guidance, and traveling leagues to gather materials and discuss with experts or observe others' works for inspiration.

The last stages of the road are stages of seeking spiritual enlightenment; they reflect on their long lives and many, many experiences with the world and contemplate the bigger picture and the nature of the universe and the People. They will begin to feel the Seldarine calling to them in their reverie, summoning them to the afterlife in Arvandor (Sehanine Moonbow's call, in particular).

The mythical final stage, occurring past 700 years of age, is one where an elf's contemplation successfully leads them to enlightenment. They become at peace, and their understanding puts them in perfect unity with the universe. These elves are faced with the choice of returning to Arvandor to join the gods, or to remain in the mortal world and use their wisdom to guide their people. Thus far the only elf said to have achieved this state was the elven queen Amlaruil, who chose to stay behind.

---

All this philosophy aside, elves still run businesses, have class and wealth divides and squabble amongst each other for power and prestige like anybody else does. The common elf is a priest, a guard, a farmer, a hunter, a cook, a maid, a tavernmaster... In daily life, most of the daily function of the realm involves cultivating the plants that grow in it (farming, construction, maintenance) and security (scouting, guarding, patrolling).

Although, elven society is steeped in magic all over the place, so in regards to things like maids and household chores, elves are more likely to simply use magic to clean the house and lessen the amount of physical labour involved.

---

Society (Houses and Clans, and the Government):

The concept of the Merchant Clans and Noble Houses aren't unique to drow; these family dynasties are part of larger elven culture, be they categorised as high, wood or dark. All elves are part of a larger extended family, known either as a House or a Clan, from which they take their surname.

Elves will generally be loyal to their Clan and House before their nation, and they have their own laws that members must follow, generally set by the matriarch or patriarch (the later only existing in non-drow cultures). Some have multiple leaders, ranging from a duo (House Nightstar is governed by twin sisters) to a council of elders. Each clan/house has different methods for choosing their leader/s, some are hereditary and others are elected. For larger Houses that span multiple regions, there will be a hierarchy with local leaders who answer to a family head that oversees the entire bloodline.

Elven nobility belong to Houses, which are generally known for each having certain political ideologies, and they often specialise in training their members in specific skills.

The elven concept of "aristocracy" is granted by a ruler, who makes that elf and their clan a Noble House as a reward for some exceptional service to elvenkind (this is very hard to achieve). The status cannot be revoked by a ruler, nobles can only be exiled and stripped of their House name by their own family.

Some families restrict their membership, and will not acknowledge the spouses or children of their relatives who are of certain elven cultures, non-elven races or half-elves. As a rule of thumb, moon elven culture would frown upon excluding anybody of elven blood from the family. Everybody tends to make an exception for drow - you are not bringing a dark elf into this family tree. Houses may adopt others into their family, and it's also possible for a House to adopt N'Quess into their ranks, usually as servants (so one could find a human cook who happens to be a member of an elven House).

Houses are generally associated with a specific elven culture, although the family usually contains a mixture of backgrounds. House Le'Quella, for example, has prominent mixed moon elven and green elven ancestry. The copper elves have mostly abandoned the concept of Houses, though some prestigious and historically important ones remain. Green elven cultures have long forsaken the concept, along with most of the trappings of the elven society that caused them thousands of years of suffering. Sun elves pay greater attention to their elders and important ancestors, and consider their Houses more "legitimate" than moon elven or wood elven Houses, and take House politics and affiliation far more seriously. Due to this, their Houses usually hold greater status than those of other elves'. Within the vast majority of dark elven societies, House affiliation and prestige is a matter of life and death, and being without a House to protect you leaves you open to enslavement and death.

Each House has two colours associated with it (sometimes they have more, less strongly associated colours), as well as an insignia (for example House Aelorothi's colours are pale blue and green, with a red swan for a crest. House Starym's colours are silver and maroon, with two falling silver dragons on the crest.) It seems like Clans may also have colours and insignias, but that may only be for the most prestigious of them. Even within the larger Houses, there will be members of the House who are nobility, and those who are common servants and footmen.

Clans and Houses are not tied to specific realms, and members and family units may be encountered anywhere in the world. "It's a mistake to think of elven Houses as equivalent to human [noble] Houses [...] in some respects you can almost think of an elven House as a small, extremely long-lived organisation with blood-ties."

Some Houses have existed for over 10,000 years, and these houses usually boast the highest status.

Status is a fluctuating thing; it depends on many factors such as wealth and prestige, the actions and reputation of its members, its relationship with other houses (feuds and alliances), how many powerful and talented mages - especially High Mages - it hold in its ranks...

Elven Houses may have smaller, related Houses attached to them called Septs, much like human dynasties have cadet branches. Septs are formed when a noble marries a commoner and takes their clan name, rather than having their lover marry into their House. A Greater House has many Septs, and a Lesser House fewer or none.

Arranged marriages do - or did - exist. They're primarily practiced as part of House politics, mainly by sun elves, and this historically caused some irritation in the time of Myth Drannor, when the Houses started using arranged marriages to call dibs on promising mages to bolster their own family's retinues and reputations. When elves marry, the elf of the less prestigious Clan/House will be considered as marrying into their spouse's more prominent Clan/House.

Surface elven Houses are as prone to intrigue and politicking as their Underdark equivalents, but they are significantly less likely to murder over it.

-

Most surface elven realms are city states, ruled by a Coronal, who is "speaker among the trees with Corellon's voice and bidding."

While this means that Coronal has absolute authority, the assumed role of the ruler is to keep the peace and maintain harmony between the various elven peoples and Houses within their realm. On an individual level, elves won't necessarily respond well to attempts to meddle in their personal lives, and sometimes trying to organise the masses is like herding cats.

The Coronal's word is law, but the entire realm may discuss and debate it before that word becomes law, and the Coronal cannot pass a law before at least a month has passed since its proposal.

While elves must accept the law of the land once made, mass migrations of entire clans and houses are known to occur in response to an unpopular proclamation as the elves leave for somewhere they don't have to listen (assuming the response isn't something more along the lines of an assassination...). While they might move to another elven settlement entirely, these elves won't necessarily leave the geographic area, they may simply settle on a patch just outside of the Coronal's jurisdiction and govern themselves. Sometimes elves just build an entire demiplane (small alternate universe) and move there instead.

In larger realms, such as the former empire of Cormanthyr, the Coronal oversees the realm and the individual cities within are been governed by a local council made up of the heads of the most influential Houses, who govern the minutia of daily life in their own city and have no influence outside of it.

Coronal is not usually an inherited position (especially in the modern day). How one achieves the position varies by place. In Cormanthyr, this was determined by blade-rite. The applicant draws an enchanted, sentient blade from its sheath, and the sword judges their intentions for the power they seek. If it decides they don't have the Tel'Quessir's wellbeing at heart and will abuse their power, then it kills them on the spot.

Rulers are advised by a council of elders, who as always are usually the family heads of the local Houses.

Larger surface elven society saw a slight shift towards matriarchy in the reign of Queen Amlaruil Moonflower on Evermeet, and women usually wield the most influence in elven politics.

The entirety of elvendom was technically ruled by a (popular) royal family at one point, situated in Evermeet. However the queen has vanished in the last century, and it seems the monarchy no longer applies. Even when she was alive, some of the elves were merely humouring the notion and didn't pay it much mind. Loyalty came mostly because she was likable and her people felt she cared for them and served them well.

Nobility is defined as the Houses in "good standing." Those who possess more "wealth" - although elves don't value things like gold the way others do, so they don't put the same weight on it - and those who have a fancier family history, which gives the family more weight when councils convene to make realm-wide decisions about enterprises and social policies being made for the good of all.

Some particularly arrogant Houses feel they have "claim" to a particular patch of forest, in the same way a human noble might claim estates, but nobody else would agree with them, and collective elven society considers the world outside of their front doors to be public property that happens to be under the People's care.

While no house is beholden to the realm it resides in, and owes no duties, society expects the elven aristocracy to provide warriors, funds and resources to the wellbeing of the realm as a matter of honour. In peacetime this means providing the guard patrols and hunting parties, and providing for the sick and elderly of their communities who require aid.

---

While the dwarves and some human cultures can give them a run for their money, elves are quite possibly the proudest people on Toril. Theirs was the first and longest humanoid empire, theirs is the greatest grasp of magic, theirs is the longest lived of the common races of Toril, theirs is the blood that runs in the veins of a god... Suffice to say, the People tend towards being arrogant and stubborn. It never occurs to a number of elves that their ways might not be the way, and between that and their resistance to being governed when the rulers want to change things, the dwarves have invented a saying regarding attempting to change their minds on something: "If you want to tell an elf what to do, be sure to bring your axe."

Where the halflings and gnomes blend in, elves (and dwarves) are the most likely to stand out as distinct, separate cultures within human cities. On average they're proud of their history and their ways of life, and won't be trading them for others. How aloof they are exactly will depend on factors like personality, and how fairly treated they feel they are being by their neighbours.

[buckrecs]

Hi! Do you have any single dad Bucky recs?:)

Single Dad!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

show me the places where others gave you scars by @falcqns

Bucky's daughter Willow doesn't like you, and you're determined to change that. then, a late night call changes everything.

Bucky’s Little Artist by @marvelmusing

Single Dad!Boss!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Drabbles by @vanillanaps

Birthday Wishes by @lillywillow

Bucky wants to plan the best party ever for his young daughter.

Mother’s Day Brunch by @nikkixostan

bucky has a daughter, lyla. she doesn't have a mom but she does have an amazing aunt who is ready to step in and fill in for her and her dad.

SERIES

Parent-Teacher Conference by @coffeecatsandcandles

James Barnes, a widowed single dad, had forgotten what love felt like and let it crush him, taking his daughter, Rebecca, with him. He was cold, rude, and arrogant, being one of the few teachers at Westview High School the students seemed to absolutely despise. But when you show up, a hopeful math teacher who’d previously taught Rebecca’s kindergarten class, and are adored by your students and colleagues- James’s attitude starts to change.

Yours, Mine, Ours by @coffeecatsandcandles

Bucky Barnes has been raising his girls, Rebecca and Winnie, for the last two years. He’d lost all hope of falling in love again until he met you, a pediatrician with two children of your own- Elliot and Willow. He falls in love and he falls hard, but the challenges of being single parents still weigh on you both at times. Luckily, you’ll always have each other.

Seven-Thirty by @nacho-bucky

You were planning on a productive — if lonely — weekend, but the little girl across the hall has different ideas about how you and Bucky Barnes should be spending your time

Astrophile by @all1e23

Orion Rebecca Barnes's favorite thing in the whole world (besides her daddy of course) is spending hours after school in the bookstore by her house and the owner GIVES her any book she wants; she’s the coolest girl Orion has ever met. It doesn't take long for Bucky to notice his daughter’s sudden interest in constellations and the large stack of astrology related books piling up in her room. He’s spent her entire life trying to teach her about the stars and where her name came from with little interest from his little comet and all of sudden she’s in love. All thanks to the girl who owns the bookstore?

To Have & To Hold by @slyyywriting

Bucky is trying his best to provide and care for his daughter who just entered first grade. Everything was alright until she asks why everyone else seems to have a mom except for her. You’re just a plain mob boss who wants to turn a new leaf. Challenges arise when the world refuses to let you take a softer, non-violent route. A little girl helps you navigate a compromise.

Teacher’s Favorite by @suitk0via

You are first grade teacher and Bucky is a single dad who wants to be involved with everything his little girl - Elaine - does. He’s the dad all the parent’s and faculty drool over. You quickly become Elaine’s favorite teacher and Bucky’s just gotta meet you.

Love at First Grade by @buckysimp101

When father and first grade teacher Bucky Barnes ends up with Avery L/N in his class, the daughter of the “ruthless” CEO of L/N Enterprises, he’s in for a surprise that’s sure to change his life.

Choosing Us by @itsanerdlife

You were content with your life. The way your life was. Till you take on the Barnes Twins. Kindergarten’s worst nightmares. Epic love wasn’t in your cards. Fate didn’t deal you in, this lifetime. Till James, aka Bucky, Barnes sets his sights on you. It’s not right, you can’t. Right? Love doesn’t have a timeline. There is no set amount of time to tell you what you feel. For the way things progress when you fall in love. Can you get everything you ever wanted with Bucky and his boys, or is it just too fast?

[markrosewater]

Happy birthday! Can we get some birthday trivia about you on your birthday?

Sure. I turn 56 today, so here’s fifty-six things you may or may not know about me.

1) I never lost a baby tooth. Every one had to be extracted.

2) I was once a contestant on Trivial Pursuit: The Game Show with Wink Martindale. I answered the most questions correct, but didn’t win.

3) I once had scarlet fever (the thing the boy gets in the Velveteen Rabbit).

4) I’ve been told by doctors I have very weird blood.

5) I self taught myself to juggle.

6) I was a magician when I was a kid with the stage name The Wiz Kid. I mostly performed for kids parties.

7) I was once a freelance greeting card writer. My favorite (that didn’t get printed) showed a jug of maple syrup tipped on its side making a puddle of syrup. In the syrup was a top hat. A hand is pulling a can of green paint with a shamrock out of the hat. You open up the card and it says Sappy Paint Hat Tricks Day. It’s a triple Spoonerism.

8) Sara Gilbert (of “Roseanne” fame) and I once went out for lunch. (It wasn’t a date or anything.)

9) I broke my collarbone doing a prat fall off a stage.

10) I once pet a cheetah. In South Africa. My face from the picture of me doing that was used as my “Making Magic” photo for years.

11) I once made a root beer float for Keanu Reeves. It was at a play I was volunteering for.

12) I once get trapped inside Fred Astaire’s Estate. This factoid is oddly on my Wikipedia page.

13) Starting during the pandemic, my family began fostering animals. So far, we fostered four dogs, six cats, and two Guinea pigs.

14) In college, I wrote and directed two plays, started an improvisation troupe, and a writing workshop.

15) I still have all my wisdom teeth.

16) I have visited every continent except Antarctica for Magic.

17) I once asked Clint Eastwood for directions, not realizing who it was until he started talking. I was lost on the Warner Brothers lot.

18) My first job in Hollywood resulted from me taking part in someone else’s interview. I snuck on the lot, and ended walking into a room where they asked “Are you here for the production assistant interview?”, and I said, “Yes.”

19) I once had a disease the doctors couldn’t identify. They called it Mark’s Disease.

20) I was born in Mississippi. My dad was in the Air Force at the time.

21) I asked out seven woman to my senior prom who all turned me down. I ended up going with a friend who also couldn’t get a date.

22) I took six years of Spanish.

23) Most of my family’s vacations growing up were ski vacations, so I’m a decent skier.

24) I once delivered a pizza to Richard Gere. It was as a production assistant, not a pizza delivery person.

25) I once broke into an actor’s apartment building to deliver a script. It was so late, they were asleep and didn’t hear the buzzing of the door bell.

26) I once drove six hours (three in each direction) to pick up one five-stick package of Blackjack gum as a runner (production assistant).

27) Dennis Miller once thought I was a crazy man. I was sent to get him from the parking lot for a shoot and he thought I was stalking him.

28) I have over two hundred tee-shirts. They are organized by color.

29) I was supposed to pitch to “The Simpsons”, but it got cancelled when I got hired in the “Roseanne” staff.

30) I pitched multiple times to “Star Trek: The Next Generation”, but never sold a script. The closest I got was a pitch about Data malfunctioning.

31) I once ate crocodile. In Australia.

32) I played the Tinman in fifth grade in a production of “The Wizard of the Oz”. I was so hot, my silver make-up had to be reapplied halfway through as I sweated it off.

33) My mother turned down being on “Oprah” to come to my college graduation.

34) My parents are both retired. My dad was a dentist and my mom a psychologist. I used to joke I had a “paradox”.

35) Every birthday since I was 9, I’ve celebrated my birthday with crab legs.

36) Since I was in grade school, every Valentine’s Day, I hand out candy hearts, and every Halloween, I hand out mellowcreme pumpkins (basically pumpkin shaped candy corns).

37) My tee-shirts every week are themed. Some themes are pretty obvious, but they often get tricky. R&D likes figuring out the theme.

38) I got a BS in Communications (no, really) from Boston University’s College of Communications.

39) I collect superhero Minimates (they look Lego-ish). I have somewhere around two thousand. They are displayed in a number of cabinets built by my dad.

40) My podcast was inspired by a talk by Kevin Smith (at San Diego Comic-Con) where he said anyone could make a podcast.

41) I have attended over twenty-five San Diego Comic-Cons.

42) I am related to Lorne Green of “Bonanza” fame.

43) My dad’s family came from Germany and my mom’s from Russia. In Germany, my family’s name was Rosenvasser, but it was changed to Rosewater when they came to the U.S.

44) There are so few Rosewaters in the United States, that if you meet a Rosewater odds are I’m related to them.

45) I have lived in five states (Mississippi, Ohio, Massachusetts, California, and Washington, in that order).

46) I have visited over thirty states for Magic.

47) I once met Jim Henson when I worked on a clip show that Kermit was on. The question I asked him was if Ernie and Bert were named after the characters from “It’s a Wonderful Life”. He said not consciously. Jim Henson is one of my idols and I feel so blessed to have met him. He died a few months later.

48) I met Stan Lee at Hascon. He is another of my idols that I feel so lucky to have met.

49) On “Roseanne”, I worked with Amy Sherman-Palladino (just Amy Sherman back then) and Chuck Lorre. She made “Gilmore Girls” and “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel”. He made “Big Bang Theory” and “Two and a Half Men”. Amy was super sweet and we got along well. I don’t think Chuck liked me.

50) I am a super picky eater. For example, except for apples, I don’t eat fruit. I hate bananas with a passion.

51) I have been a game player since very young. My dad loves games and introduced them to me early in life.

52) I get the writing bug from my mom.

53) I used to collect lint in a giant jar. When I got married, Lora made me get rid of it. It was an impressive amount of lint.

54) I have a bad tendency to burn myself a lot. My family loves to make fun of it.

55) I own over fifty flannels. My favorites are from Japan because they are more colorful with their flannels. Normally I wear a large, but in Japanese sizes, I’m an extra large.

56) My favorite number is 254. I chose it when I was little.

[usedtobethelegendcreator]

If we take both the pilot and the show into account, we get a very complicated picture of who, exactly, knows who and/or what Alastor is.

The Pilot

When Charlie is talking to Vaggie after answering the door, she says “The Radio Demon is at the door,” and she mimes a smile. She doesn’t know his name, just his title, and the fact that he smiles a lot. And when she goes back to the door, Alastor introduces himself by name.

Vaggie clearly knows who he is, and knows his name as well. She also knows some of his backstory. She tells Angel Dust that he’s a “violent monster of chaos” and that they shouldn’t get involved with him unless they want to “be erased”. This implies that Alastor is perfectly capable of destroying other demons—but the involvement of angelic steel is not known. Now, we have to take into account that Vaggie probably doesn’t know all of this personally, and doesn’t have the full story. In fact, she says something that might contradict the backstory we get in “Dad Beat Dad”: Vaggie says “They started calling him the Radio Demon,” as if everyone already knew it was him. Meanwhile, Mimzy says “That’s when Alastor revealed himself as the Radio Demon.” So—did everyone know from the get-go, or was it a reveal? More on that and Mimzy later.

Angel Dust, who has been in Hell longer than Vaggie, doesn’t know anything, saying that he isn’t “big on politics”.

Husk and Niffty obviously know what he is, considering he owns their souls, but Husk is terrified to the point of shaking when Alastor goes into his true form. And he clearly knew what he was getting into when he made the deal in the first place, even if Alastor was still relatively tiny (compared to his true form) when it was made.

We also see random demons watching Charlie on the news with Alastor among them. Now, the average demon’s reaction to the Radio Demon is “Oh shit,” so what’s up with that? They might not have seen him. Or…maybe they didn’t recognize him in that form. More on that later.

The Show

Now, we get to Sir Pentious. Oh god. Sir Pentious. He knows Alastor’s name, and has battled him “like, twenty times”. He was so bad at it that Alastor doesn’t remember him, even though “I literally attacked you last week.” But when Sir Pentious apologizes to him in the same episode, he says “Mister Radio Demon Sir”. So, did he or did he not know what Alastor was? Well, he might not have known that Alastor was the Radio Demon until Alastor went apeshit on him for ripping his coat. All he seems to know is that, if he defeats Alastor, the “almighty Vees” will finally see him as their equal. Sir Pentious looked up at him and said “Oh shit,” like he hadn’t thought there would be consequences. This shows us that Sir Pentious:

1. Didn’t know Alastor was the Radio Demon, and

2. Only realized it when he saw Alastor’s true form.

So, it seems to be based on form. Alastor is usually in his day-to-day form (since it would be very bothersome going around in his true form), and he never introduces himself as the Radio Demon. He seems to have the general population of Hell fooled by his form. After all, in “Dad Beat Dad”, Mimzy says “At first, people wanted to dismiss him.” So when Alastor revealed himself to Sir Pentious, Sir Pentious got the ultimate “Oh shit” moment of his life.

The other Overlords keep confusing me. Zestial, who is ancient as fuck, says Alastor has been “an enigma” since he manifested, so even Zestial doesn’t know what’s up with him. No one, not even Zestial, knows how he got so powerful so quickly. “T’would be grander folly by far to assume the workings of your mind, Alastor,” indeed. So, in essence, no one knows what the fuck Alastor is up to or thinking at any given time, and it’s seen as a bad idea to try to outplay him. And, given his history with taking down Overlords, he’s the wild card of any battle. But Carmilla Carmine, at least, wasn’t wondering where he’d gone for seven years. Did that absence make the other Overlords (except for Zestial and Rosie, at least) forget how terrifying he can be? Forget how he has a reputation for taking down “heavy hitters” like themselves? Or have they been assured that they won’t be his victims?

Because Velvette says “They’re all a joke.” In front of Alastor. The demon known for taking down Overlords. Yeah. Not a good move there, girl, especially when that “joke” scared Vox shitless a week ago. So either Velvette is too “respectless” for her own safety, or she genuinely doesn’t think Alastor is a threat.

Well, we do know Alastor has some kind of moral code. Maybe the Overlords there know they don’t match his MO, to the point where they feel comfortable. I mean, Rosie is obviously excepted from any danger from him, which is an assurance no other Overlord has. But Velvette is in deep shit if she does that again, especially considering what Alastor tells Husk in “Dad Beat Dad”. “If you ever say that again, I will tear your soul apart and broadcast your screams for every other disrespectful wretch who dares to question me.” He doesn’t need their soul to do it, considering Alastor did the same thing to random Overlords.

Disrespectful. “Dares to question me.” Yeah. Velvette is fucked, and not in the fun way.

Mimzy, on the other hand, has a much closer view of things. She’s known Alastor since they were alive, so it’s safe to say she knows him pretty well. She knows a much more detailed version of Alastor’s…escapades, since she was there. Instead of the cut-out style Vaggie used in the pilot, it seems that Mimzy remembers it personally.

So. Mimzy. She knows Alastor is the Radio Demon. She’s likely seen his true form a million times. She repeatedly brings her problems to him so he can clean up her mess, and Alastor puts up with it because it’s a “chance to let off steam”. It’s gotten to the point where she genuinely isn’t scared of him. So if Mimzy brings her problems to Alastor, the Radio Demon, why haven’t her ‘problems’ learned not to fuck with her?

Her problems likely didn’t live to tell the tale.

And okay. I have no idea why Lucifer, the King of Hell, is clueless.

He doesn’t know who Alastor is, to the point of asking if he’s the bellhop. He doesn’t know what Alastor is, at least until Alastor says “A reminder to all: not to mess with the Radio Demon!” And he doesn’t know what the Radio Demon is or Alastor’s reputation because he missed Mimzy’s monologue…and also because he seems to have spent most of his time hanging out with his wife. There is no other way the King of Hell would not know it’s a bad idea to try to get a rise out of Alastor. And a worse idea to call him tacky.

Cherri Bomb hasn’t really interacted with Alastor yet, so we don’t know what she knows.

Adam obviously didn’t know who Alastor was (“Who the fuck are you?”) even after all those exterminations, so it’s safe to say none of Heaven knows. The only angel present when Alastor introduced himself was Adam, and Adam’s dead. And note that Alastor still didn’t introduce himself as the Radio Demon, so Heaven still doesn’t know that either. He seems to be setting himself up as a secret weapon.

Oh, but it doesn’t end there. Adam made a couple comments that seem to be personal, but then again, it’s Adam. He may have just made assumptions. “Jazz is for pussies”? “Radio is fucking dead”? Hmmm. Who knows what Adam really knew? Did Lillith, who was apparently in Heaven the whole time, ever tell him anything? And if Lillith told Adam, why wouldn’t she tell Lucifer?

Questions, questions.

Who knows?