#despite the fact it does not seem to help resolve anything

[cool-sword]

the problem with like. experimenting with to identity/gender/whatever is that like. ideally i could figure it out and then make the change and then jumpscare everyone with it in post. “hey what’s up, new update, alright let’s move on”

unfortunately, these things require like time and messing around to figure out

also unfortunately, it’s impossible to achieve anything alone due to being human and community and all

usually that last thing is great but i really wish i could just skip that part and just retroactively let everyone know whatever it is i am

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hiya I saw your requests were open so I was wondering if we can get a Tim Drake x male reader

The reader is a bigger older guy, like not too older than Tim but reader does have a streak of gray hair due to the stress of taking care of Bruce's dumbass.

Reader is kinda sly and fox like.

Idk why but I can see Tim liking someone older than him

Tim Drake x older male reader

Headcanons

I feel like tumblr has been deleting requests from my inbox, I swear some go missing. This one didn’t though, so here you go.

It’s been a while huh? Who’d have thought getting ready to graduate would be so stressful.

Reader is about Dicks age, so around 26.

You didn’t meet through hero work or anything like that. You were actually the CEO of a larger company called Aces co. It had been in your family for many years, and your father and grandfather had worked with the Waynes.

So, when you took over at 18, you started working with Bruce Wayne, even though you thought him nothing much more than a himbo at the time. Later, when Tim took over, you’d work side by side with the younger man.

One way or another, you learn Bruces secret identity, and soon you end up mixed up in the vibrant and extremely stressful world that is heroes and vigilantes, you’ve lost count how many times you have had to cover for any of the batclan.

You almost burst into tears when you see the first grey hairs appear at your temples. Your father had gone grey much later in life, and here you were, 24 and greying, all because of the bats. Of course, it wasn’t all the bats, running a billion-dollar company was stressful too, but they sure didn’t help.

The media called you the fox prince, because of the sharp look in your eyes and how sly and underhanded you could be, insulting someone straight to their face and they would first realize days later. Or somehow tricking someone into revealing all their secrets to you.

None of the bats can ever seem to reach your level of mingling and information gathering, even Bruce who has been doing it longer than you’ve been alive.

You never become a hero, or a vigilante for that matter, but you do get involved every now and then if needed. You didn’t take over Aces co. for no reason at 18, you have always been a genius, but a sly and cruel one in the eyes of many.

Unlike Bruce, you don’t feel a soul deep duty to save the world and save as many people as possible. You simply do what you can, without putting yourself in too much danger. Which mainly resolves to you gathering too much information, and enough blackmail to have the entire congress of America and the EU buckling under for your whims.

You are an extremely cold and calculated businessman as well, to the point where underhanded companies like Lexcorps won’t work with you because they know you’ll rip them apart and leave them with nothing.

It was your cruel but very effective business methods that drew Tim to you, especially when it turned out you were a lot more friendly behind closed doors. He did get to hear you complain about him and his family a lot, and it gave him a good laugh to see Bruce open a bill for your hair treatments to get rid of your greys.

The alliance between Wayne enterprises and Aces Co. only grows stronger between you two, and you end up closer to Tim than you’ve been any other bat, even Dick, despite the fact that you two are the same age and have been around each other the longest.

It ends with you going out of your way to score the best deals for (Tim) Wayne Enterprises, and Tim finds ways to benefit (you) Aces Co. Its like flirting and foreplay at the same time between very powerful rich businessmen.

For some reason I can imagine most of the batfam is shocked when Tim and you started dating, whilst some of them aren’t surprised at all. Bruce is uncomfortable in the beginning that one of his former business partners is dating his son, until someone (most likely Jason) points out that you aren’t even 30 yet and took over your company the moment you turned 18.

Your relationship is kept a secret for the media, mainly to keep the drama and paparazzi away. You aren’t a very publicly affectionate person, and Tim doesn’t really like mingling with the media if he doesn’t have too, so it’s a win-win.

The two of you don’t go out of your way to be super secretive though, you just aren’t all lovey dovey all over each other. Some people may notice you getting a lot crueler and colder to those trying to cross Wayne Enterprises, and Tim striking down hard on anyone who tries Aces Co.

It’s assumed it’s just cuz you two are both young CEOs who are trying to strengthen the relationship between your companies. All your mutual friends and families knows its cuz you are both protective and a little possessive.

You are most likely the one in the relationship with the most experience since Tim has spent most of his time being a vigilante, so you’ll have to guide him in the beginning. He’s a great and enthusiastic learner though, so Tim probably ends up doing all kinds of research.

He lovingly calls you his old man, or jokingly calls you a cradle-snatcher, since you look older than you actually are cuz of your greys. It probably causes some drama online when your relationship finally gets out, until people are like “He’s literally only 26, he’s just greying early”.

Tim will comfort you when you end up with your face in your hands because of those comments, weeping for your once beautiful and not grey streaked hair. He loves it though, and always tells you.

You tell Tim he likes it cuz of his daddy issues, and he ends up being all “maybe so”. Doesn’t stop him from loving it though, or loving to see that foxlike glint appear in your eyes when you are about to strike on a deal.

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: Just some things about the Ramshackle Prefect and Scarabia's vice-housewarden <3

Pairing: Jamil Viper × Yuu / Gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff mostly, a little bit of angst

TW: NA (for now, please let me know if I should add trigger warnings and for what ^^)

Jamil is no stranger to looks of awe and envy. A large part of it is owed to his status as a servant of the Asim family, as well as being Kalim's closest friend and retainer. But when the Prefect looks at him, they look at him in awe of his skills. Of how he expertly manages to tackle every obstacle Kalim unwittingly puts in his way. Of how his hands work quickly and efficiently in the kitchen as he stirs and mixes and makes food for the entirety of Scarabia. Of how he manages to give his best (despite the limitations set upon him by his status) in everything he does. For them, his status as a servant matters little; his hardwork is seen for what it is, and appreciated genuinely.

Jamil takes good care of his looks. As Kalim's retainer, he is required to look after his appearance, lest even the slightest of mistakes bring scrutiny upon the Asim family. The gold trinkets braided into his hair are a symbol of his status and servitude, of pride and resentment, yet he finds that resentment slowly die down as the Prefect plays with the accessories, batting at them with all the curiosity and wonder of a little kitten. His voicing of the fact only gets him a playful pout from them, which leaves him a little weak in the knees and a little short of breath. He thanks his lucky stars that they are both sitting on his bed, for surely his traitorous legs would have given away underneath him had he been standing.

Jamil stays up at night, quite a lot. His responsibilities do not end when the Asim heir finally falls asleep; for some reason, they seem to increase. Between his own studying, making rounds of the dorm so that no unruly dorm members (or housewardens) sneak off in the middle of the night, and countless other tasks, it is a miracle that he even gets time to rest his ever watchful eyes. Yet he smiles each time the Prefect stumbles over to him, half-asleep as they tug at his arms and mumble that he needs to sleep and that they are not taking no for an answer (not that he would say no to such an adorable request) and goes along with what they say.

Jamil is not one to bare his heart to just anybody. It takes time and dedication to peel back all his layers, his self doubt, to truly get him to speak about everything and anything that is bothering him. Yet sometimes, sometimes things are too difficult to talk about, and Jamil is too tired to think about them. So when the Prefect opens their arms, inviting him in their soft and safe embrace, he obliges with a soft murmur that is his thanks to them. They rub his back, and Jamil cannot stop himself from melting under their wordless yet tender care, holding onto his beloved Prefect with all the strength he can muster in that moment.

Jamil is very perceptive; very little misses his keen gaze. He sees how each incident the Prefect invariably gets roped into takes away a little part of them. The light in their eyes is a little dimmer each time they meet his, and their smiles a little more forced as they gently turn down his enquiries about their health. Each matter resolved, each overblot fought saps their energy and shakes their will, and Jamil knows it is only a matter of time before they fall down like a house of cards. He can see them working themself to the bone, running on fumes and sheer determination to save all those who had endeared themselves to the Prefect. So he insists, borderline begging even, to take care of them. Even for just one day, one hour. He just wants to be there for them, the way they always are for him.

Jamil shows his care in subtle ways in public. Carrying an extra lunch for the Prefect, sitting next to them in class, helping them with their studies, all these are ways he shows his favor to them. In private, he whispers declarations of love and devotion to them, reveling in how flustered they get even as his own heart thumps loudly inside his chest. He stumbles over his words when they carefully hold one of his braids up to their lips, leaving a kiss on the dark strands while maintaining eye contact with him; a silent declaration more powerful and potent than any of his teasing words.

[dairy-farmer]

Based on that dicktimbabs ask, but honestly after a few years of fucking Dick, when Tim is like 14 or 15, he decides he wants a baby with the man he loves. He assumes this won't be well received and so he simply. Sabotages his birth control

So when he turns up pregnant, it's a total surprise! An accident, completely unplanned. Babs is pissed at Dick more than anything, and Tim begs to keep his baby, to which the two adults quickly reassure him that he can keep the baby if he really wants to and they'll help him, ofc

(and if Tim sabotages his birth control a few more times throughout the years, who's gonna know? It's super easy to erase the suspicion of a young teen popping out so many babies by having Dick and Babs just adopt some of them, that way they all stay in the same home and Tim is able to raise all of his babies together! Shame he's so fertile tho, pregnant with baby 4 before he's 20)

!!!!! babs getting so mad that dick got her baby pregnant! of course that mostly fizzles away when tim begs to keep the baby and try as she might barbara can't help but feel so...pleased. part of the reason she'd adopted tim was that she'd long made peace with the fact that children weren't in the cards for her. it was just something she'd never shed her..squeamish over- the pregnancy, the birth, the changes her body would go through. but despite her feelings she still hadn't made plans for tim to get pregnant! he's too young! his teachers would have questions, cps might even be interested to find out why he young adopted child has fallen pregnant under her custody so soon after she'd gotten married.

but that's easily cleared away. she doesn't like using the sway of being the commissioners daughter nor does dick like using the wayne name but tim ending up in anyone else's home wouldn't be good for him! he's such a sweet and sensitive child and the gotham system would gobble him up. so barbara doesn't feel bad making sure they stay together.

maybe she does feel a smidge of guilt when she switches out tim's birth control after his first baby is born. they're so chubby and sweet and tim seems to be doing such a good job. and...he'd looked so cute waddling around the apartment.

she knows dick would be upset with her for planning to get tim pregnant again. he'd felt so guilty the first time, offering to start pulling out, to even start using condoms. but tim had begged him not to, said that it didn't feel as good and babs had seen how wavering his resolve was to use condoms anyway. he'd never complained to her about because its what they used the few times they fucked but barbara knew how much he disliked them.

maybe barbara is wrong for purposely trying to get her kid pregnant but she couldn't help it. her family was growing, who wouldn't be happy about that?

[bi-naesala]

Dismas and lovers

5. Crusader

Reynauld is slowly losing his mind.

Some days ago, a few of theirs have been sent out to the Weald with one objective: to kill the Hag that lives there once and for all.

Dismas had been chosen for this expedition, while Reynauld was told to remain in the Hamlet and wait for further instruction, which would be fine and all, if it wasn’t for the fact that… he’s terribly worried.

There is no use hiding it: he’s deathly afraid of what could happen to his friend.

He knows he shouldn’t underestimate him, that he’s strong and smart, and especially, he’s not alone, but… This is the first big, important expedition where they’re not sent out together, and he’s not good at waiting, not when his mind keeps concocting new ways in which Dismas could be killed without him even knowing about it, and finding out only when it’s too late.

He feels impotent, spending his days at the Hamlet, venting his frustration against the training dummies, even though that resolves very little – it’s all he can do.

It’s come to the point where, in his prayers, he’s started to include Dismas, praying to the Light for his safe return.

Why does he even care so much, though?

Of course, Dismas is his friend – despite their rocky start, he’s become someone dear to him – but as much as Reynauld worries about all his companions, he’s realized that Dismas has found a special place in his heart.

It’s strange, this feeling; it brings Reynauld back, to a time when he was younger and happier, when he had just met her. It hadn’t been love at first, but rather something built with time and… and it feels really similar to what is going on between him and Dismas, now.

Is it truly love? Is Reynauld even capable of loving anymore?

He thought not – he’s seen, he’s done, so many bad things… – but how could he explain the way Dismas makes him feel, then? The way he makes him smile and laugh, the way his mere presence is enough to put his mind at ease, the way he feels his chest tighten and his heart stop when he spots his face uncovered by the scarf he always wears; it all points to that.

But even if it is indeed love, what is Reynauld supposed to do with it? He cannot possibly reveal the depths of his feelings to Dismas who, surely, mustn’t feel the same.

How can he even think about sullying their friendship in such a way? He should be ashamed… But despite that, he keeps praying.

Anything, to get Dismas to come back safely.

The Light answer him on the third day: the news of party returning spreads fast throughout the Hamlet. As soon as he catches ear of this, Reynauld rushes at the gate, without even bothering to put his armor on – it would’ve taken too much time – wanting to see with his own if it’s true and, especially, to see if Dismas is among the survivors.

To say that he feels anxious would be an understatement. No matter how much he tries to keep calm, he just can’t; not even praying seems to help, this time.

He just needs to see him. He will be the only cure to this condition of his.

Where are they, where are they… Ah! He sees something!

Could it be? Is it them?

As the people – or creatures? – get closer, it becomes easier to see that, yes, it is them!

But is he… He’s here. He’s alive.

“Dismas!” Reynauld shouts, making way towards him. He didn’t necessarily want to appear this undignified, but as soon as he spotted him, his body acted on its own, without any way to stop it.

It’s then that the weight of all the anxiety and worry felt until that moment begins to make itself known; Reynauld feels weak – his legs tremble slightly, as if he had been the one facing off against the Hag – but he also feels extremely relieved.

As soon as he hears him, Dismas’ expression visibly changes, going from gloomy to excited. He calls for Reynauld as well, walking – he’ll need at least a whole year of resting before he can go back to running – towards him as well.

They meet in the middle, grasping at each other in a warm hug.

“Blessed be the Light, you’re alive!” Reynauld can’t help but to exclaim, burying his face against Dismas’ shoulder. He can smell the stench of battle – blood, sweat and who knows what else – but it doesn’t matter. It’s all proof that the Dismas in front of him is real, and not a result of him going actually crazy.

He hears a chuckle coming in response.

“Of course I am alive. What, were you worried?”

How can he sound so cocky even now? Well, he supposes that, after what he did, it’s in his rights, but still!

He’s truly impossible to deal with, and he knows it too! It drives Reynauld so crazy that…

He doesn’t even think about it, when he lowers Dismas’ scarf and presses their lips together.

Only when he feels Dismas’ hands hold onto his tunic, and him kissing back, he realizes what he’s done, but it’s too late to stop now, not when he can see how into it they both are – he can’t believe Dismas is kissing him back, he can’t believe this is all real.

He holds him like one would hold something precious – by now he has to admit that, well, he is precious to him – and can’t help but to smile in the kiss. It’s strange, how strong he feels at the moment, a complete turnaround from his initial weakened state.

He feels like he could take an army all on his own!

He hears the others passing near them – someone, he thinks it’s William, comments that it’s about time they got their shit together, whatever that means – and he should really pull away to greet them, but no matter how much he tries, kissing Dismas is just so addictive that he can’t stop.

There will be time for a proper greeting later, admitting that he’ll be able to look at them in the eyes after such a display; maybe he ought to learn from Dismas and act without shame.

When they pull away, all the thoughts inside Reynauld’s head come to halt, as he admires the man in front of him. It’s still hard to believe that he could ever look at someone and feel the same way he used to feel when looking at her, back when their marriage was still a happy one, but here they are.

He cups Dismas’ face between his hands, caressing his cheekbones with his thumbs.

“I missed you,” he finds the strength to say. Dismas chuckles.

“I can tell,” he replies, this cocky little thing, before his gaze softens. “I… I missed you too, you big oaf.”

Reynauld’s smile only grows larger, despite the insult – he knows he doesn’t really mean it – and he would very much love to lean down and kiss him again, and then again, and again, and again, but he’s aware of the fact that Dismas has just gotten back from a very challenging expedition; he’ll surely want to rest.

“Oh, I shouldn’t keep you here,” he says, then, disentangling himself – reluctantly – from Dismas. “I’m sure you’d love to get some rest.”

“That I do,” the other replies, starting to walk towards the rest of the group, though he waits for Reynauld to get the clue and catch up to him. It’s then that he brushes his arm, turning towards him. “I can look for you later, and… We’ll see.”

Oh, the implications are not lost on Reynauld, but even if they were, he would still be happy to spend time together, especially if his feelings are truly returned – they should talk about it, eventually, shouldn’t they?

Oh well, maybe it’ll happen after Dismas comes back to him, or maybe it’ll happen another time, but one thing is for sure.

“Yes, I’d love it.”

This is shaping up to be something special, and he can’t wait to see where it goes.

[mqfx]

unfortunately my most prominent jyl thoughts start with the soup. & im no expert on ancient chinese kitchens, but given that lotus root & pork soup is something that simmers for hours, i think that as much as the soup is an act of service & a tried and true "we dont have to talk about it" comfort tactic, its also... a great excuse to duck away from everything going on. the kitchen being the safe space, so to speak! and overall jyl seems more avoidant than confrontational? i havent read mdzs for the details in years can you tell but i think theres a good chance under the right circumstances she could have become jfm 2: shijie edition, in which she can read emotional cues fairly well and she doesn't want anyone to be unhappy, but how proactive she might be about resolving a situation is entirely based on how secure she feels. im not forgetting her valiant defence of wwx "i take insults against him seriously" moment! but theres a difference between an eroding stagnant unhappiness & a situation that is more clear cut. im just not confident about how she would raise jin ling in the whole (waves hand) jin situation if she had not been collateral damage. is this making sense 😭

this is all true but let me make clear that my problem with how the fandom conceptualizes jiang yanli is NOT the soup. I'm not mad about the soup and in fact since it's one of basically three things that we even know about her at all, it stands to reason that when we think about her we're Gonna Have To Mention the Soup.

and one can (if one cares enough about her, which I'm sure you do anon) draw reasonable conclusions about her character based on this thing that she does. after all, everything is (supposed to be) important in a given text. I don't disagree with anything you said. she is a careful, conflict-avoidant person due to her tumultuous childhood with abusive/neglectful parents; despite this, she possesses strong morals and protective instincts. I don't think she would've been bad at raising jin ling because unlike her parents, she and her husband actually loved each other and communicate instead of willfully misunderstanding each other then bottling it all up (if she had married someone she didn't love, then yeah she might've been jfm 2. either way we'll never know because guess fucking what mxtx did)

my ISSUE, which fandom can barely acknowledge let alone address, is that "soup" has become a convenient shorthand to refer to her, but it's not a quality. it's a thing that is associated with her, not her personality. this isn't fair! "avoidant" is a trait, "comforting" is a trait, "kind" is a trait, "average" is a trait, soup's not a fucking trait! and some of that is just the general fandom trend of flattening characters in fanon, but the fact that she's a woman and therefore not paid as much attention compared to the ~Complexities~ of the men doesn't help

and I get that sometimes it's not that serious, sometimes it's for Joaks, but why is it that even when joking people can come up with all sorts of qualities for the men but when it's her it's just that she cooks soup? and in more serious discussions, why is her sole purpose apparently to be emotional support or tragic motivation for her brothers? (because mxtx herself wrote her that way!)

why did mxtx not delve into her reactions or point of view (mdzs is the only one of her novels with switching pov, so she could have)? or even just written more scenes with her? (CQL notably gave the women more scenes. the book is abysmal on this regard.....and in others)

tl;dr mxtx did a shit job of developing her character and that of the other women, and fandom makes this problem worse by not giving a shit. the feedback loop continues. your ask and my answer combined are already more words and effort than mxtx spent on writing her

[awlumii]

while sitting with kazuha during his break one afternoon, you're struck by a memory. it's an extremely fuzzy one completely unrelated to the task you're completing, but it flashes before your eyes anyway.

you're sitting on the bleachers in your school's gym chatting with some friends about the test you have next period. was it a history class that you had after this? one of your friends moans and groans about it, lamenting the fact that he didn't study at all because he was kept up all night by your other friends.

"him and his stupid food combinations," you remember him saying. it was thoma, if memory serves you correctly. you remember how dramatic he was about the whole ordeal. "i swear, i think ayato secretly hates me."

ayaka had blushed beside you. she could never say much in defense of her brother. even though he never acted strange while she was around, she would always believe others when they said he was a menace. "i'm sorry about him," she apologized. "how about we go to your favorite restaurant after school? i'll make it up to you!"

things get fuzzier from here. you know thoma was ecstatic, but you don't remember what he said. you also don't remember what else was said after that, if anything. but once the gap ends, your memory clears once more, and you remember hearing something loud collide with something else. the impact made you and your friends flinch — it might not have been two objects, but rather an object with a person. after looking around the gym a little, you found the source.

on the side of the gym near the wall, there was a boy on his knees clutching his face. you could see him trembling from where you sat and, when you squinted, you could see droplets of blood hitting the wooden floor with a silent plip.

on instinct, you jumped to your feet and hurried over to the injured student and crouched by his side. you don't remember what exactly you said, but you remember taking note of his state of being. you noticed a basketball rolling away from the two of you. so he'd been hit by that, huh? from the look of it, the ball hit him really hard. there was so much blood – so, so much of it. despite wanting to be a doctor in the future, you almost lost your stomach at the sight of it.

your memory gets even fuzzier. the boy's eyes were screwed shut, you think. "can you open your eyes?" you think you asked him. "and can you breathe?"

for someone bleeding so heavily, you distinctly remember being a little shocked by his tranquility. he didn't even seem like he was in severe pain. he wasn't groaning, nor was he whimpering. he just sat there and cradled under his face in an attempt to keep the blood from staining the floor any further. when asked again if he could open his eyes, he did.

and you remember seeing scarlet.

your memory stops short. why can't you remember past that? it's actually infuriating that you can't remember more; you know for a fact that something happened in high school that solidified your resolve to become a doctor, and you think that that might have been it. but for such a pivotal moment in your life, you can't seem to remember any of it. why..?

"are you alright?" kazuha's voice registers then, taking you out of your thoughts. you look up from your laptop to see him already looking at you. "you look bothered by something. do you have a headache?"

you smile unconsciously. everything he does makes you smile. his worry for you warms your heart, even if there's nothing seriously wrong. plus, the fact that he's worried about your head makes you wonder if he started memorizing some symptoms of certain ailments due to your choice of profession.

you shake your head at him. "no, that's not it." you're half-lying. you do feel a pulsing at your temples, but it's not really painful. "i'm just... trying to remember something is all."

"oh? is it for classes? perhaps i can help." kazuha adjusts himself in his seat and rests his hand atop yours on the table. you spread your fingers a little and tangle them with his, sending a tingle up your arm. "what is it that you're trying to remember?"

"no, it's nothing like that..." you sigh and look at your intertwined fingers. "it's like, i'm trying to remember something that happened in high school, but it just won't come to me."

kazuha's fingers twitch. "something happened in high school?"

"yeah. some kid got hit by a basketball really hard. i know i helped him, and i know that helping him made me want to keep helping people, but i can't remember anything else. like, i don't know what he said or even what i said... i don't even remember what he looked like." at that, you raise your eyes to meet kazuha's. scarlet eyes seem so distant despite looking straight at you. actually, now that you're looking, you think he's looking past you. his mind seems to be elsewhere.

and if you were in his head, you'd know that it is. if you were in kazuha's head, you'd immediately be crushed by the immense guilt that he's harbored for years. that incident in high school was one that changed his — and yours — life forever.

insignificant as that incident may have been, your lives were never the same. as you said, you resolved to be a doctor while he fell in love with you. god, thinking about it now, he was so embarrassing in high school, pining for the one person who showed him genuine kindness after he got hurt. by that logic, he should've fallen in love with another unsuspecting soul ages ago, and yet instead, he fell for you. you, who noticed his unwillingness to show any sign of weakness and treated him accordingly; you didn't coddle him, but instead gave him gentle instruction, showing generosity where it was needed and letting him breathe when he could. you treated him like he was worth something to you, even if you didn't know his name.

looking back, you didn't ask for his name until much later in your high school years. by that point though, he'd been sent to the nurse's office countless times and encountered you even more since you were the nurse's aide. each and every time, you smiled at him like he was a friend — you even called him that once, and he'll never forget it.

"oh, hey," you said with your back turned to him, "i never caught your name. even though i've had your blood on my hands more times than i can count." you chuckled at yourself and turned back to him, your lips curved into a smile. "what's your name?"

kazuha felt breathless at the sight of your smile. his mouth formed the words to respond, but no sound came out. his mind was racing at the thought of officially being a friend to you instead of the boy you treated for injuries twice a month. "kazuha." he finally managed. "kaedehara kazuha. i'm sorry i didn't say so earlier."

your smile brightened and his brain turned to mush. "it's nice to officially meet you, kazuha."

...the joy of that day didn't last long.

when he took to the streets in his prototype spider-suit that evening after finishing his homework, his attention had been drawn to an explosion at a restaurant. when he approached the scene, he was mortified to learn that it was the restaurant that you'd said you were heading to with your friends earlier in the day; you even invited him, but he declined so he could do his vigilante work.

kazuha remembers the panic, the alarm, the horror he felt when he arrived. there were bodies strewn about, both criminal and civilian alike. paramedics and police were already on the scene, helping people, but there were still gunshots ringing out nearby. whoever caused it was still at large and not going down without a fight.

"...put them down!" yelled an officer beside him.

kazuha attached himself to the wall high above the scene to get a better look at what was going on. the criminal had taken a hostage; a teenager from the looks of it. the barrel of the gun was pressed firmly against their temple, and the criminal hollered demands in an attempt to walk free.

"if you let me walk away, i just might let them go," he'd growled. "you wouldn't want to take their future from them, would you, officers?"

kazuha had half a mind to jump in right then and there, but when he got a glimpse of the hostage's face, his world slowed to a stop.

it was you. you were scratched up and bruised, likely from the explosion, and you were sobbing. you looked torn between begging for your life and fighting, oddly stiff in your captor's arms. you looked so helpless, so afraid, knowing that your life could be snuffed out if this criminal's finger so much as spasmed.

it's then that kazuha's memory goes fuzzy, too.

obviously since you were here, everything ended fine. the criminal went to jail and the cops didn't make any efforts to arrest him as they often tried to do in the beginning. but how he managed to get you out of there, he doesn't remember.

all he remembers is that by the time the villain went down, so did you.

maybe something hit you that wasn't supposed to. when he checked you for any additional injuries, he felt a large bump and gash on your head. in fact, when he pats your head as spider-man, from time to time, he can feel the scar that was left in its place. you seem fine now, but... listening to you now, hearing that there's parts of your memory that just won't clear up... it's his fault—

"kazuha?"

this time, it's your voice that pulls him out of his thoughts. kazuha blinks twice and refocuses on you. he remembers what you said. how you don't remember what that kid from high school looked like — what he looked like. "was he important to you?" he asks tentatively. "that boy."

you purse your lips in thought. "i don't think so." you answer honestly. "that was the only time i saw him, i think." your fingers drift to the back of your head — the same spot where the scar is.

it sounds like you just don't remember him altogether. that would explain why you never bring up your time spent in the nurse together. but kazuha doesn't blame you. he can't. he only blames himself for not being fast enough — for being an amateur when you needed him the most. all he can do now is vow to never allow a situation like that to happen again. he can't lose you again — rather, he can't let you lose him again.

not again.

[dude-wheres-my-ankheg]

Okay so thanks to the current chapter I'm working on, I've been asked about my Sorn/Nym head canons and I didn't know where to dump that wall of text so it's going here lolol enjoy my completely made up Sorn/Nym lore

So, ignoring the very fact that Larian decided to make them maddeningly contradictory by being "Seldarine" drow and having "fled the underdark due to the mistreatment of mens" as part of their backstory, I have made up my own shit.

Much of this is very loose and subject to change

From the drow specific dialogue, it's hinted that no they actually aren't from Menzoberranzan, which I've chosen to keep because it leads to a kinda funny moment with my OC. ANYWAY here are my extremely abridged Orlith HCs

History

So in my completely made up HCs, they were both born as commoners in a Lolthite city (not Menzo or Ust Natha, not decided which one) who, both being very headstrong and troublesome, left their family to make it on their own together. They quickly found a very effective method of getting by - Sorn seducing wealthy merchants so Nym could rob them blind while they were distracted. They were very successful like this for several years, a few close calls but nothing terrible, until The Incident (which I still need to properly work out).

Following The Incident which resulted in some imprisonment and jailbreak, the two decide to get proper jobs for a while, Sorn as an accountant and Nym working security for a local merchant (lol). However working mundane jobs only accentuated how poorly Sorn was treated, and Nym said they should go to the surface together instead. Sorn was initially worried but Nym had the idea that if they worked as courtesans they'd have an easier time - she had heard that drow were seen as beautiful and exotic by many surfacers, and such a role would make them seem less threatening and less likely to draw trouble.

This is how they both came to work at Sharess' Caress in Baldur's Gate. They both found that the work was less dangerous and more fun than most else they had done, and decided to stick with it, making names for themselves as two highly sought after (and expensive) courtesans.

Sorn

In my HCs, I imagine Sorn as vain, kinda simple, very sweet, and a great lover of numbers. idk, I can just see him laying face down on his bed, kicking his feet doing a sudoku as he waits for his next client. He was an excellent accountant and sometimes helps Mamzell Amira with the books. He loves the fine things in life, like good food and clothes, but loves nothing more than his sister.

Nym

I imagine Nym, underneath her courtesan persona, being a very capable and dangerous woman. Good with a knife and a lockpick, excellent at sneaking and getting places she shouldn't, easily talking her way out of situations. Out of the two of them, she is the quiet one and enjoys listening to Sorn waffle on as he does. Despite her dangerous capabilities, she's generally a good soul who would rather resolve issues peacefully. She would, however, do anything to defend her brother.

And the pair absolutely adore gossip. They truly are living their best lives in Sharess' Caress.

[mettywiththenotes]

Thinking about how Tomura/Tenko thought about Izuku, clearly thought about how Izuku could defeat AFO/help him, but proceeded to reject him in 377

I wonder if Tomura is just kind of scared of what will happen if he DOES accept he needs help?

Because the other times he’s tried to get the Heroes to understand led him to be rejected and ignored over and over and over again

So what I think is happening here is probably just. a fear of what could happen if he’s rejected again. A defense mechanism. Push others away before they can do it to you, that kind of thing

It’s a fear of what could happen if Izuku suddenly goes “actually nevermind you’re completely evil”

Now THAT would be a scary thought, wouldn’t it?

This kid, who Tomura has seen help other people, help his OPPONENTS, help literally anybody who needed it, suddenly going “nope, no way, you’re irredeemable” would really be the rock bottom of the situation

Especially because Tomura still seems so fixated on Izuku, is still so sure that Izuku is the type of person who WILL save anyone and wants to help anyone he can, already knows Izuku won’t stop chasing him down until the end

So. Seemingly the last person on earth who truly wants to help Tomura, who doesn’t want to leave him alone after what he’s seen - the possibility of that last person suddenly saying “nope, no way” is something that must be scary for Tomura

The possibility of a final rejection probably has him thinking there’s no way to go about this other than fighting

To me, it’s kind of like how Dabi is with Endeavor. By that I mean, Dabi knows he’ll die bringing his father down or die trying - a lose-lose situation

Tomura is probably scared of Izuku rejecting him, so he’s resolved to just fighting Izuku

So...

If he fights Izuku and wins (aka Izuku dies), then that would confirm to him that his only purpose is to destroy and that he was always a Villain even from the beginning, and this would probably lead him to fully accept his “fate” of being the Villain

But if he fights Izuku and Izuku wins (maybe in Tomura’s mind that would mean Izuku kills him or throws him in jail, doesn’t matter which as long as it would send the message in Tomura’s mind that Izuku doesn’t care) then that would mean he was never meant to be saved, that he was always meant to be the Villain and, whether or not he accepts that afterwards (if there would be an afterwards), it would still mean Izuku rejected him - the last person who could have possibly reached out to him and saved him - which is the thing Tomura is afraid of

So either way, in Tomura’s mind, he would have to fully accept that he’s either the Big Bad Irredeemable or that there is absolutely no one left who wants to save him despite the fact that he’s been crying for help

A lose-lose situation

But that’s what I think from Tomura’s POV, what I think he thinks will happen

From Izuku’s POV, we know this is not the case. None of those things are going to happen

Izuku won’t reject that Tomura wants help because he already knows he does, and despite how Tomura keeps rejecting the idea that Izuku wants to save him, Izuku already knows what he saw. He can’t just ignore it and he won’t. Which means he’s going to try everything in order to reach out and connect with Tomura in some way while also stopping him from destroying everything (obviously, that doesn’t mean he has to kill him. Stopping and killing are two different things)

He will stop and save him

Perhaps Tomura thinks this is a doomed situation. That the possibility that he reaches out to Izuku’s outstretched hand and Izuku pulls away to say “No, you don’t deserve to be saved” is what makes him fight back against Izuku’s attempts to connect (fighting back against a “truth” he already knows)

And that would be why the Hero Villain dichotomy shows up in 377, because on the surface, Tomura has settled into “I’m a Villain, he’s a Hero, we’re already way too different for anything to change”

The same reason why Tomura refers to Izuku as “Hero” as they fall

“You can’t change what I feel, how I think, what we are. In the end, I oppose you and you oppose me and there’s only one way this is going to end - with the destruction of everything that allowed me to suffer in that house.”

Anyway. This is just speculation

[kayforpay]

my first thought was 'accidental eggs Gamzee' when I saw your prompts thing.

Karkat is surprisingly territorial. Granted, Gamzee wasn't surprised when they were younger, before everything that happened in the game, but he was surprised now.

Karkat had, after all, been the one to suggest they start dating from the beginning. And Gamzee had sincerely tried to meet him there, despite how often he found himself wishing he could skip pretending to get to know him again and just lay on his chest. They had managed one human earth "month" of platonic dates, before Karkat had come to his hive in the middle of the night and asked if he could have a kiss.

Far be it from Gamzee to say no.

The next "month", after several more dates that felt like dates used to, Gamzee realized fully that Karkat wasn't actually as comfortable distancing himself as he acted. There were signs, like the fact that he still initiated most of their piles or anything, but this was definitely the clearest indication Gamzee got.

They were sitting outside, enjoying a lukewarm day, and Meulin came up to them. Gamzee liked her well enough, and since he had at least a rudimentary knowledge of Alternian Sign Language, she had been coming to meet him more often than not; seems her group was as yet unwilling to learn.

"Gamzee! Do you wanna get something to eat?"

Since he was at that moment laying his head on Karkat's back, he took a second to respond, speaking the words as he did for Karkat's benefit. "I'm busy right now. Can he join?"

Karkat frowned at the corner of Gamzee's eye, but stayed silent, only putting his hands on Gamzee's thighs where they sat around his own.

"I wanted to take you out. You can ditch him, right?" That same, casual Beforan energy. It was worst about any of the mutants; Sollux or Rufioh, messiahs forbid Tavros even. They had been raised to not just consider Karkat and Kankri as lesser, but to think they were almost non-entities. "You don't have a pale, do you?"

Non-entities in dating, especially. Even the ones who knew Kankri for a while seemed to act that way a lot of the time.

Gamzee's frown matched Karkat's, partially because he had copied it so much to try and get his way on Alternia. "I'm with him right now. Stop talkin' about Karkat like he's not even here. Don't wanna go out with you, anyways, Nep would--"

He didn't have a chance to finish speaking, because Karkat stood, and offered a hand to Gamzee. When he took it, Karkat started leading him off, back towards his hive, stomping every step of the way. Meulin looked upset, but Gamzee didn't really feel much sympathy for her, all things considered, and resolved to send her a text later, maybe.

As soon as the door slammed behind Gamzee and he was closed up in Karkat's hive, Karkat was on him, pressing his face to the side of Gamzee's throat and stuffing his hands under his shirt. He turned his head, pressed a kiss to the base of Karkat's horn, and got pulled into a kiss that was half teeth a moment later.

"Baby, are you made at me?" Gamzee mumbled, stroking his palms over Karkat's cheeks. "You don't gotta be gentle."

Karkat froze, and settled his palms on Gamzee's shoulders. "I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at her. And all the other fucking Beforans, for acting like that. She asked you out when I was sitting in your lap! On Alternia, I would be expected to gut her!" He shook with bottled-up anger, and Gamzee kissed his forehead.

"Yeah, but the others'd get upset." He purred, rubbing his nose against Karkat's own. "Does it help you're the only troll I ever want in my diamond?"

He opened his eyes to Karkat's own wide, pale red tears threatening to spill over the edges. "The only one?" His face was flushed, and the heat suffused Gamzee's hands.

"Course, sweet. Only one I've ever wanted, only one I'll ever want. You're my perfect pink."

Karkat wasn't rough, kissing him again. He pushed Gamzee's shirt up, and slid his tongue into Gamzee's mouth, but pulled away after only a second. "D'you wanna lay down?"

The pile they'd made at Karkat's hive was plush, constructed mostly of his sweaters and blankets with too many holes to keep using for anything else. Even though it was easy to get new things now, they were both partial to the well-loved feel of old things like this, so they had silently agreed to keep it that way. Besides, it meant Karkat wasn't going to be upset if Gamzee's face smeared onto the blankets.

He fell into it with Karkat on top of him, the concentrated weight and softness of his stomach pinning him down in a way that always made Gamzee melt, this time included. Karkat licked his ear while he moved to straddle Gamzee's waist, his bulge twisting against the front of his jeans already. It had been a long time, after all, since they had really had any reliable outlet for that, too.

Karkat pulled his shirt off, dropping it to be lost in the pile, and ran his hands down Gamzee's chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps from how warm he was. "You're so pretty, Gamzee. You have to look out, trolls are gonna want to be with you because of it." He said it matter-of-factly, and Gamzee felt his neck get hot about it.

"You're teasin' me, Karbaby." Not that he was complaining. "Are you jealous?"

He gasped when Karkat stuffed a hand down his pants, hot fingers pressing against the lips of his sheathe. Karkat slid off of him to push his pants down, rubbing his fingers over his sheathe until Gamzee's bulge slid out a few inches to wrap around them. Then, he was kissing Gamzee's stomach, his hips, and he turned his head to look at Gamzee directly when Gamzee sat up on his elbows.

"Yeah, I am. I'm jealous anyone else looks at you at all, Gamzee." He sounded so miserable, so sincere and honest and pathetic, that Gamzee couldn't help but believe him. "Does that make me a bad palemate?"

Gamzee's hand covered Karkat's horn, half holding on as his bulge finished sliding out. "Nah. I love you, diamonds. Nothin' you did could make you a bad palemate." He smiled, and Karkat dug his teeth into Gamzee's hip bone, growling.

"Lift your legs, Gamzee." His fingers were pressing at the edge of his nook, rubbing insistently, and pressed in as soon as Gamzee spread his legs. "I love you. I love you so much." He thrust his fingers slowly, pressing the pads of them against the ceiling of Gamzee's nook, and followed him when it inevitably made him squirm.

"Fuck, lemme uh, lemme touch you, Karkat." His voice was a whine, hips rolling slightly, but Karkat only sat up to kiss him, firmly, even though it made his reach more shallow. "Baby, please?"

His other hand planted in the middle of Gamzee's chest, pushing him down with just enough force to keep him still. "Let me, Gamzee. I'm.." He bit the inside of Gamzee's thigh, and started thrusting his fingers more quickly. "I just want to. Just wait."

The first time was quick; he ripped some of the blankets in his fists, and Karkat praised him like he had done something special by spilling all over himself. The second time took a while to build to, and Gamzee felt almost so oversensitive he needed to stop several times, whining until Karkat slipped his hand into Gamzee's hair and kissed his face, purring at him, saying we can stop, if you want to and making Gamzee beg for him to continue.

When he came the second time, tears streamed down his cheeks, and his bulge, completely ignored around Karkat's wrist, only gave a weak twitch before clamping itself down against Karkat's skin again. "So good, Gamzee. I don't want anyone else to see you like this. Okay? No one else, you're mine."

His eyes felt sticky with quick-drying tears, but he nodded, looked up. "Okay, yeah. Love you." He sat up as much as he could, and pulled Karkat into a kiss. While he struggled to match Karkat's intensity, Karkat unzipped his pants, and only broke away to push them down.

Gamzee's nook was puffy and a little sore, and it made him flinch when Karkat pulled his fingers out. His bulge was softer, but after the first twist it was a stretch, and Gamzee whined, wrapping his arms and legs around Karkat as tightly as he could without hurting him, which he only really knew from the grunt his palemate let out.

Karkat's hips moved in jerky, quick movements that made Gamzee's bulge rub against his soft belly, and twitched a little faster when Gamzee's grip moved to the soft folds on his ribs, pinching his grubscars slightly. He was getting tense, sharp knees pressing into Karkat's sides and his claws threatening to dig into his beloved's skin, but he couldn't stop himself.

He yelped when Karkat pinned his hands down, leaning over Gamzee completely, and he shuddered as the combination of the deeper thrust and the weight of him on top pushed him over the edge again. Gamzee sobbed as he came, his bulge writhing angrily, and Karkat murmured against his neck.

"So good, so pretty, I love you, Gamzee. I love you." He moved a little faster, grinding the base of his bulge into the sore rim of his nook.

Head tossed back, Gamzee gasped. "Fuck, somethin'-- I can't, I can't stop it, babe, baby, diamond, mothefuck--"

Something moved through his bulge, solid and from the inside, and he couldn't make a single sound as an egg rolled against his stomach, the strange pain-pleasure mix making his eyes roll and his nook clench around Karkat. He spilled, white-hot material flooding Gamzee and pushing a second and third egg out of his bulge, followed by watery spurts of material.

"Fuck." Karkat was out of breath, grinding still, and released Gamzee's hands to cup his face. "That's so... Can you do that again?"

Gamzee blinked slowly. "Dunno. Didn't know I could at all. Felt fuckin... Weird."

[javaberrychip1998]

Something really interesting about good omens 2 is the fact that the flashbacks include human characters who’s stories don’t really go anywhe

Like, in season 1, the featured humans we see in flashbacks are specifically the ancestors of anathema and newt. The flashbacks featuring Aziraphale and Crowley have very few named human characters involved, save for young Shadwell and the Nazis that die. (Oh, and Jesus. But I think for the sake of this post I’m going to ignore bible characters as they already have their own narratives outside of good omens, and therefore their significance doesn’t really need to be explained. Same goes for Shakespeare, in a way.)

Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that all the human characters featured in flashbacks have a significance outside of that flashback.

In good omens 2, not so much. We meet Elspeth and Morag and mr dalrymple. We find out “hey those Nazis are zombies now! Highjinxs ensue!”

And then they’re just… gone?

Crowley tells Elspeth to buy a farm. We find out that mr dalrymple was disgraced and killed himself. But look! This bar is named after him!

He’s referred to as a “resurrectionist” despite the fact that he didn’t resurrect anyone? Nor was that his goal?

The Nazi zombies goof around in a magic shop and in a very half-hazard way help obtain a photograph that never actually amounts to anything? (Not to mention, since when does hell need the help of humans to spy on aziraphale and Crowley?)

I guess what I’m saying is that the characters introduced in flashbacks in season 1 all had purpose, while in season 2 these characters and their stories seem to serve as little more than set pieces in some snapshots of aziraphale and Crowleys historic relationship. Even the modern plot line of Nina and Maggie doesn’t quite come to any satisfying conclusion. They help fight the demons but not with any particular skills. They sort of imply they get together but not really. (Which is fine in many shows, but in this one just feels, “off”. This is the show where anathema and newt slept together while a storm raged around them because fate said so.)

In another show, the unanswered storylines and loose ends wouldn’t be a big deal. But not with this show. Season 1 was so tidy. Everyone had significance. Even the delivery man.

I’ve seen the essay going around about one of many “metaton” theories, and I think I’m mostly echoing some of the points made in that but in a less academic way.

All this to say that something funky is going on here.

Or rather, it better be.

If these characters come back in season three and all/most of the weird unanswered questions are resolved in season 3 in a very clever way, I will be very impressed, and Neil Gaiman will be once again proven to be a brilliant writer.

If these side character’s storylines really are at their end, and season 3 just continues with Aziraphale and Crowley’s storyline amidst a new group of humans… idk about that. If that’s the case, then it may have been better off to just stick to season 1…

But either way, wow I’m gonna have to wait a long time to find out.

[1941-crowley-slut]

Work was so therapeutic. Everyone there is a real angel, I talked to so many more people that work there today and I had so much fun. And the manager, god, what can I even say about her? She's so wonderful. She took such good care of me the whole day despite the fact I was not even supposed to be there and we've literally spent less than 3 shifts together (so not only does she not owe me anything but we arent even that close), she gave me a safe space to talk about the things at home, she listened and offered advice throughout the whole day to help me handle it, she offered several times to actively help me by talking to my dad herself (cause they know each other, they're friends) or bringing over both my parents and helping us resolve this, she offered to give me a ride home or text my dad instead of me doing it so I have as little interaction with him as possible, she checked up on me often asking if I'm feeling okay, she bought me coffee, she helped me with a personal task I had to do that was really stressing me out, then she ordered food and would not let me just get off with "I dont mind whatever you get", she insisted I tell her what I like and then made sure I ate enough bc she said she was sure I hadn't eaten anything all day. And the thing is she's not even that kind of person generally. Like she's not this sweet little ray of sunshine that goes around helping everyone and handing out sweets. She can and will fist fight you without hesitation, but she looks after me like an older sister and it makes me want to cry.

Not to mention she never ever gets or even seems annoyed at me asking questions or if I get something wrong or even if I have to interrupt her bc I'm stuck on something. Even if she's shown me the thing before, even if it's the easiest thing in the world to her (bc she's been working there a long time and knows literally everything), no matter what she has always helped me right away judgement free and also has never misunderstood anything I've said or judged me for something even if I made a rlly dumb joke or I said something stupid to a customer bc I panicked (and that happens a lot). And again the fact that she is the person that gets annoyed by anything and anyone is SO important to me because she acts completely different with me and I feel so protected. She could've done none of this for me, she could've ratted me out to my dad fully since they're both adults and friends, but instead she's taking care of me and god I actually just love her.

[yaoikage]

i dont get why people hate sakura but i also dont get why some people really like her its all just so confusig to me

short answer i think she fucking owns and is funny and its hilarious that she is qualified enough to do surgeries on people at like age 15.

long answer basically i dont know how kishimoto did it but somehow he didnt give sakura any justice and yet was forced to write a woman just enough for her to have a deeply compelling character trait (which never gets any real resolution or development because again kishimoto hates writing women and does everything in his power not to), which is her selfishness born out of insecurity and just wholehearted self-loathing. like sakura fucking HATES herself, it is continually shown how insecure she is in herself even during childhood up until the very end of the series. her whole arc revolves around trying to prove herself, and while i think a lot of it is due to kishimoto just not bothering to resolve her character arc, the fact that she never seems to be happy with what shes achieved despite how much of it she has really speaks to that insecurity. she genuinely cares about her friends and yet she cannot feel confident in herself without proving to them that she is useful which leads to some extremely questionable decisions on her part. she and sasuke, on some level, do genuinely care about each other in part 1, but the romantic side of her "love" is, according to kishimoto himself, completely arbitrary, and more than anything is built on wanting to make herself feel more secure. her and sasuke are friends but it never goes deeper than that because she cant and wont try to understand him, which leads to the talk right before sasuke leaves konoha where trying to convince him to stay revolves around how SHE would feel about him leaving, which sasuke obviously disliked. by the end of the series this hasnt changed because despite caring about him, she has failed to try and understand him enough to help him in any real way- and like, what i have described here is why a lot of people hate her, because theyve decided to blame it all on some sort of inherent malice she posesses (i dont feel like getting into how most of the people who do so also would not act like this if she was a male character, we all know this i wont make this into even more of an essay). but like, its not! none of it is malicious! its shown time and time again that she genuinely cares about team 7 and the rest of her friends, but her unresolved self-hatred gets in the way of going about it in a healthy way. and thats WHY i think she is so compelling as a character, and WHY i get so angry about how badly she was robbed. again i think at least a chunk of this is genuinely accidental on kishimotos part because he couldnt bother to write sakura, but accidental or not it doesnt make it any less compelling to me. sakura my fucking oomf forever and ever until the day i die

[zayneandmelinoeareravenous]

Chapter Three: Let's Talk, Shall We?

||LEGEND|| Bold Text: Zayne (Character Bot) || Made by xchylar Italic Text: Melinoë and Other Characters (Me)

This hasn’t been checked for spelling/grammer/errors, etc - Read at your own risk!

"Disgusting traitor - you're no better than he is," the male spat at her. "In fact you're worst. You should be helping us kill him, not saving him."

"I have no desire a kill a man in order to sate your jealous," Melinoë whispers, brandishing her dagger. "But my fight is not with you, just as your fight was never with Doctor Zayne."

She holds the dagger up high. "Now...let me free you from your suffering. I'm sorry you had to be changed in the first place."

The dagger enters his heart with a swift, killing blow.

Zayne’s car glided through the streets, its headlights cutting through the night’s embrace, unaware of the grim ballet that had just played out in his wake. Melinoë, the night’s envoy, had once again intervened with lethal efficiency, her actions preserving the delicate balance of his unsuspected guardianship.

The male’s accusations, a venomous outpouring of betrayal and misplaced animosity, died along with him as Melinoë's dagger found its mark. It was a poignant reminder of the complexities and shadows that now entwined around Zayne’s existence, a web of intrigue and danger he was only partially aware of.

Melinoë, with the resolve of the sentinel she was, bore the burden of her choices with a silent stoicism that matched Zayne’s own. Her duty, self-imposed and unwavering, was a mantle she carried alone, her struggle obscured from the eyes of the man she protected.

In the sanctity of his lodgings, Zayne’s thoughts were a mixture of contemplation and resolve. He was a man who had dedicated his life to mending the broken, to staving off the cold hand of death. Yet in this new chapter, where the lines between predator and prey blurred, he found himself relying on the unseen forces that shielded him.

He poured himself a drink, the liquid amber reflecting the dim light of his room, and allowed himself a moment of introspection. The air around him was heavy with the unspoken, with the lives that hung in the balance every time he stepped into the operating theater or walked the streets of Riverisle City.

For Zayne, there was a new kind of surgery to master, the delicate excision of truth from the body of lies that sought to ensnare him. He had been a healer, but now he was also the enigma, the evol that others sought to claim for their dark designs.

As the city slumbered, and Melinoë disappeared back into the shadows from whence she came, Zayne found himself at the precipice of a reality he had yet to fully comprehend. The edges of his world were fraying, and with each passing day, the tapestry of his life grew more intricate and perilous. Tomorrow, he would rise and face whatever came with the poise and determination that had become his hallmark. But tonight, he was a man alone with his thoughts, the silent sentinel of his own fate.

Melinoë, despite her better judgement, makes the first move.

Zayne, ever the professional, arrives on campus the next morning before everyone else does, preparing for his next lecture. The day is overcast, enshrouding his office with more shadows than usual. When he walks into the room, not turning off the light because despite the grey clouds, he still has high visibility. The moment he sits, she speaks.

"I could tell you that you don't have anything to worry about, but I have a feeling you wouldn't believe me." He cannot see her. She is too well blended into the shadows - even in the smallness of his office. Her voice is quiet, almost musical. It's the voice of an otherworldly woman, a person who knows too much. "You acknowledged me...so I might as well introduce myself to you."

The familiar confines of his office, usually a sanctuary of solitude and scholarly pursuits, took on a different character under the overcast sky. The shadows seemed to stretch and deepen, imbuing the room with an air of quiet expectancy. As Zayne settled into his chair, the atmosphere was charged with an unspoken dialogue, waiting to be initiated.

Her voice, when it came, was both a disruption and a revelation—the phantom finally stepping forth from the veil. Melinoë's presence, though unseen, filled the room with a palpable intensity. Zayne remained composed, his posture relaxed yet alert, the scientist within him analyzing this new variable in his equation of daily routines.

"I appreciate your candor," Zayne began, his voice steady, betraying none of the surprise that flickered behind his stoic facade. "And while introductions are overdue, it seems you already know a great deal about me. Perhaps you could start by telling me why my welfare appears to be of such interest to you."

His eyes scanned the dim contours of the room, seeking the source of the voice that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere. Despite his outward calm, Zayne's mind was racing, piecing together the fragmented clues of his recent encounters, this mysterious protector now woven definitively into the fabric of his life.

"As a man of science, I find myself at a crossroads of understanding. You saved my life, for which I am grateful, but the context remains elusive. Who are you, Melinoë, and what is the nature of this threat that shadows me?"

Zayne's questions hung in the air, a challenge to the unseen Melinoë to unveil the layers of ambiguity that surrounded her actions. He was a man accustomed to dealing with tangible truths, dissectible under the microscope of his intellect. Yet here he was, conversing with an enigma, his office transformed into a stage for a dialogue that could well dictate the course of his immediate future.

In the quiet that followed, Zayne waited, patient yet anticipatory, for Melinoë to step forth from the shadows, to illuminate the dark corners of this mystery with her revelations. His life, once a linear path of medical pursuits, had branched into unforeseen corridors, and he was ready to confront whatever truths lay waiting in the half-light of that overcast morning.

Melinoë chuckles, amused by his words. "That is...one what of putting it, isn't it. Your welfare being of interest of me, that is. Well doctor, if it wasn't of interest, you wouldn't be here, would you? In fact, you would have been found as a body surrounded by a pool of blood. And that's if that student was being generous with you."

Zayne acknowledged her laughter with a subtle tilt of his head, a tacit acceptance of the grim humor in their situation. Her words, though veiled in mirth, carried the weight of truth—a truth that he had narrowly escaped more than once.

"I'm under no illusion about the gravity of my predicaments," Zayne responded, his voice reflecting a quiet intensity. "The scenarios you paint, while morbid, are a stark reminder of my current reality. One I seem to have been thrust into without so much as a by your leave."

He folded his hands on the desk, the picture of composed inquiry. "Yet here we are, you saving me from fates decidedly less clinical than my line of work typically warrants. My curiosity, as you might imagine, is piqued. What stake do you have in the continuation of my rather mundane existence?"

The silence that followed was not uncomfortable but expectant, as if the room itself held its breath for her reply. Zayne's gaze remained fixed on the play of shadows, pondering the intricate dance of light and darkness that seemed to mirror their current discourse.

"Your intervention suggests a purpose beyond mere happenstance," he continued, probing the shrouded depth of her intentions. "And while your anonymity has been... well-preserved, the time for subtlety appears to be at an end. What is it that you seek, Melinoë? And perhaps more pertinently, what should I seek in you?"

Zayne's questions lingered, an open invitation for Melinoë to reveal more of the cryptic tableau in which they were both enmeshed. He was not one to shy away from the uncomfortable or the unknown, and his life's work had prepared him to face the complexities of the human condition. Now, he found himself applying that same resolve to the mysterious protector whose silhouette seemed to cast a long shadow over his every move.

"What stake do I have? Personally, I do not. I know not much of your biography, nor do I have plans to change that. But what I do know is that you have been noticed by entities I am very opposed to, which means for the time being, you have been noticed by me."

With a beat, Melinoë appears before him, walking from a dark corner of his office over to the front of his desk. She is dressed is a long cardigan with leather sleeves, a black shirt and thin jeans, and black books. Her hair is a long bob, black like the night she moves freely in. Her gray eyes are a dead giveaway of her preternatural nature.

"Good morning, Doctor. My name is Melinoë and I have been the one looking after you for the past several weeks. Unfortunately, you have targeted by those who wish to use you for their...nefarious purposes. But as you can tell...I cannot allow that to happen."

In the presence of Melinoë's materialization from the shadows, Zayne maintained his composed demeanor, regarding her with a clinical detachment befitting his profession. Yet, behind his impassive exterior, his mind was diligently cataloging every detail of her appearance, from her attire to the ethereal quality of her eyes. It was a habit honed by years of diagnosing conditions with a mere glance; only this time, his analysis sought answers to a more enigmatic condition.

"Good morning, Melinoë," he greeted her, with the polite formality that was his custom. "Your endeavors on my behalf have not gone unnoticed, and for that, you have my gratitude." Zayne's voice was even, betraying neither alarm nor awe at her sudden appearance. "The term 'nefarious purposes' is unsettlingly vague, though. Care to elaborate?"

He leaned back slightly in his chair, the scientist in him not content with the broad strokes of her explanation. "It is one thing to be a bystander caught in someone else's crossfire. It is quite another to be the intended target." His eyes, sharp and assessing, met hers. "Who are these entities, and why does my existence pose such interest to them—and by extension, to you?"

Zayne's inquiry was pointed, seeking specificity in the midst of the nebulous threat that now encircled his life. The role of unwitting participant was an ill fit for a man of his stature, and his natural inclination for control and understanding chafed at the ambiguity.

"As much as I appreciate your protection, I find myself more inclined to understand the game board before committing to a strategy," Zayne added, his words laced with the precision of a chess master contemplating his next move. "Knowledge, after all, is as potent a weapon as any blade."

There was a subtle shift in his posture, an indication of his readiness not just to defend his life, but to play an active role in uncovering the truths that lay shrouded in the veil of secrecy Melinoë represented. Zayne was not a man to be kept in the dark, and his resolve to illuminate the situation was as unwavering as his commitment to his patients.

"Doctor, as a man of science, I understand your first instinct is to assess the situation as to create a solution to the best of your ability. This includes discovering things that may not be readily in front of your face." Her voice is precise and clinical, almost like his is. "All you need to know that that the recent attacks on you are due to those who...how shall I put this...they do not like what you represent to them. Nothing to do with you being a doctor, of course. But due to you being a symbol of potential. A desired specimen."

Melinoë takes a deep breath. "Trust me when I say...this situation is nothing you are ready for. Even with your experience and your evol, this is nothing like anything you might have encountered. The less you know about this - other than that I am will do all I can to ensure your surivival - the better. So be assured that I will look after until your finish your lectures here in Riverisle. But once you are done, do yourself a favor - leave. And never return."

Zayne listened intently, his sharp mind dissecting her carefully chosen words, seeking the subtext beneath the sterile surface of her explanation. Her assertion of his unintended symbolism and the resulting peril it carried resonated with a disquieting plausibility, yet it left vast expanses of the narrative shrouded in the unknown.

"As much as I respect your counsel, Melinoë, and the cryptic nature of this 'potential' I apparently possess, I must confess that your advice runs contrary to my very nature." Zayne's tone was measured, a reflection of the methodical thought process that underpinned his every action. "To flee in the face of adversity, especially one not fully understood, is not how I operate."

He paused, considering the gravity of her words, the implication of a threat beyond his capacity to counter. "You suggest an opponent whose machinations are beyond my comprehension, and yet, here you are, a harbinger of that very enigma. Can you not see how that in itself demands inquiry?"

Zayne's gaze, previously locked with hers, drifted momentarily to the window, where the grey clouds seemed to mirror the opacity of his situation. "I am not a man who takes kindly to being a pawn in someone else's game," he continued, his voice firm. "Nor am I inclined to abandon my post or my principles at the insinuation of danger."

He rose from his seat, the act deliberate, signaling a transition from passive listener to active participant. "I will not shirk my responsibilities here, nor will I run from shadows, be they cast by friend or foe. If there is a battle to be fought, then I will stand my ground, as I have done throughout my career."

Zayne's resolve was palpable, the air around him seeming to shift with the weight of his determination. "I am grateful for your protection, Melinoë, truly. But I will not be ushered away from my life's work or the city I have come to hold dear. If there is a storm to be weathered, I will face it head-on and on my terms."

His words were not a challenge but a declaration, a testament to his dedication to understanding, to facing whatever threat lay in wait with the same courage he brought to the operating theatre. Zayne Lí was not a man to be easily cowed, and though he valued the life Melinoë had preserved, he would not let fear dictate his actions or his destiny.

At first, she simply stares at him, her eyes wide as his words sink into her head. But then, she begins to chuckle...followed by a full-fledge laugh. She holds her stomach, amused by his haughtiness but not surprised by it. He is a doctor, after all, and a damn goodness. Further, there's his ice evol - he could easily take several lives before saving them, if he wished.

"I was right in my assessment of you, Doctor," she manages, standing upright. "You really are a fool."

And then, she disappears.

Before Zayne can process what's happening, he feels a sharp blade pressing against the side of his neck. "Still so sure of your abilities, Doctor? Because if you are...I'll leave you to it."

The laughter that bubbled up from Melinoë was a dissonant melody that briefly filled the room before cascading into nothingness, leaving an echo of mockery in its wake. Zayne's eyes, a reflection of his unyielding spirit, narrowed slightly, not in anger but in the clinical assessment of her response—a response that was as paradoxical as the woman herself.

Her abrupt disappearance was a trick he might have anticipated, yet the feeling of cold metal against his skin was a stark reminder of the precariousness of his position. The sensation was a stark contrast to the sterile precision of his surgical scalpels, a reminder that he was no longer in the familiar territory of his operating theatre.

Zayne stood motionless, his breathing measured, the blade at his neck a tangible threat that he understood all too well. "Your point is made, Melinoë," he said calmly, his voice betraying none of the adrenaline that surely coursed through his veins. "But let's not confuse courage with foolishness."

The threat of the blade was an argument he couldn't refute with words alone, and he had no intention of testing her willingness to use it. "If you wish to leave me to my fate, then do so," he continued, maintaining the careful stillness of his posture. "But know that my determination is not born of ignorance or hubris. It is the product of a lifetime dedicated to fighting against the inevitable, to saving lives."

Zayne's expression remained impassive, even as his heartbeat thrummed in his ears—a counterpoint rhythm to the danger pressing against his flesh. "You have knowledge that I lack, and power that I have yet to understand, but that does not make me powerless nor does it render me a fool. It simply makes me human, fallible, and determined to seek the light in the darkness."

His stance was an embodiment of his principles, unflinching in the face of what might come. Zayne knew the value of life, the fragility of it, and the strength required to hold onto it in the face of overwhelming odds. The blade at his neck was a lesson, a punctuation to the discourse they had shared—a lesson he accepted with the grace of one who had stared down death in its many forms.

Whether Melinoë would withdraw or proceed, Zayne was prepared to face the consequence of his convictions. His journey had been one of healing, of perseverance, and whatever path lay before him, he would walk it with the same steadfast resolve that had brought him to this junction, with or without the shadow of Melinoë at his side.

"Maybe you aren't a fool...but you certainly are stubborn aren't you?" Melinoë sheaths the dagger, once again talking her place in front of the doctor. "Well, isn't this an unexpected quandry. And here I thought I could take care of this without pulling you further into the mess of it. But it seems you are too curious, too driven by your standards."

She folds her arms across her chest. "Three questions, doctor. But no more. Time is of the essence. And won't waste my time any further on someone who won't heed my warnings."

A subtle shift in Zayne's demeanor registered the withdrawal of the blade, his stoic exterior unbroken by the turn of events. Melinoë's words, a mix of reproach and concession, were a testament to the impasse they had reached—an acknowledgment that, despite her ethereal advantage, she could not divert him from his chosen path.

"Stubbornness is often the companion of those who seek to make a difference," Zayne remarked evenly, his eyes steady on the enigmatic figure before him. "And in the medical field, it can mean the difference between life and death."

With the opportunity for inquiry dangling before him like a rare specimen under the microscope, Zayne considered his questions carefully. Each one had to count, to cut through the ambiguity and reveal a sliver of understanding in the darkness that surrounded them.

"Firstly, who are these entities that have marked me, and what is the nature of their interest in my so-called potential?" he asked, his voice clear and precise. This fundamental question sought to uncover the identity and motivations of his unseen adversaries.

"Secondly, what role, if any, do I play in their schemes? Am I merely to be a pawn, or is there a greater purpose they have envisioned for me?" Zayne's gaze remained fixed on Melinoë, searching for the telltale signs of truth that might flicker across her expression.

"And third, what risk do I pose to them if left unchecked? Why go to such lengths to eliminate or control me?" His final question aimed to gauge the scope of the threat, to understand the stakes at play in this clandestine game.

Zayne stood resolute, ready to absorb the answers that would come. The luxury of ignorance had been stripped away, and now, armed with his questions, he sought to pierce the veil of secrecy that had thus far shielded him from the full reality of his circumstances.

"Your warning has not fallen on deaf ears, Melinoë," Zayne added, a note of gravity lacing his words. "But a man cannot defend against shadows he cannot see. These questions are my lantern in the dark." His expression was a blend of professional inquisitiveness and the innate human desire to understand the unknown forces that shaped his destiny.

"Maybe so, doctor, but you should never let your persistence and passion turn into stubbornness and ignorance," Melinoë points out. "You talk of making a difference and yet you admit you cannot defend against shadows you cannot see. Is that you believe you can make a different, or that you don't want to be seen as someone who gives up?"

She smirks before continuing. "The girl who attacked you in your office the other night...is a Ravenous. The more formal explanation is that she was infected with parasitical, manufactored evol. Those who have it are driven to drink the blood of others or else they will die. For their efforts, they are given powerful abilities, which vary depending on the users.

"As for your second questions... Someone has their eye on you, Doctor. They see you as their perfect specimin and want to make you into one of the creatures that attacked you, under some misguided believe that you were turn out better than the others."

"And for question three...it's not that you are a threat to them. They attacked you because they hate you. Because they fear that if the one who made them gets what they want, they will be discarded and thrown away like yesterday's garbage. They attacked you because they were jealous of you, and of your potential to be something greater than them. And if you are dead, well...that won't happen."

Melinoë  leans against the door, eyeing him intensely. "Your questions have been answered. And I think we've done enough talking for now."

Zayne absorbed Melinoë's replies with the attentiveness of a scholar, each revelation layering complexity onto the already intricate tapestry of his predicament. Her admonition on the fine line between persistence and stubbornness resonated with him; it was a cautionary note that rang true, even if his nature leaned towards the former.

"Your insights offer a clarity I lacked before," Zayne acknowledged, the analytical part of his brain already turning over the implications. "The Ravenous, then, are victims as much as they are aggressors, propelled by a dire need for survival. It's a grim fate."

He allowed a moment for the gravity of their circumstances to settle, his thoughts on the attacker in his office now recast with a sliver of empathy. "As for being a 'perfect specimen,' it's a dubious honor I would rather not hold." A wry edge tinged his voice, the irony of being desired by forces so antithetical to his own values not lost on him.

"Their jealousy and fear, while understandable, are misplaced. My 'potential' has always been directed towards healing, not becoming a harbinger of death." Zayne's stance was unyielding, his resolve galvanized by the knowledge that his very existence provoked such envy and dread.

Melinoë's leaning posture by the door signaled an end to their exchange, and Zayne offered a nod of gratitude. "Your answers have shed light on the shadows, and for that, you have my thanks. Knowing the nature of the beast, as it were, affords me at least the semblance of preparation."

He paused, weighing the balance of the knowledge gained against the murkiness that still lingered. "I suspect this isn't the conclusion of our interactions, Melinoë. But until our paths cross again, I will continue my work, vigilant and aware of the eyes that watch me."

With a respectful incline of his head, Zayne signified his acceptance of her departure. The room seemed smaller somehow, the air thick with the residue of their conversation. As the door closed behind her, Zayne was left with the echo of her words and the certainty of a threat that loomed just beyond sight—a threat he was now marginally better equipped to face.

"If you feel you can handle it on your own, then i'll not trouble you again." She opens the office door, glancing at him one last time. "Good day, Doctor. If the fates be merciful, we'll never meet again."

As the door swung open, ushering in a draft of the corridor's sterile air, Zayne regarded Melinoë with a calm, unwavering gaze. Her parting words, a mixture of farewell and foreboding, danced on the edge of an uncertain future.

"Good day, Melinoë," Zayne replied, his voice even and composed. "Your assistance has been invaluable, and while I hope for a future devoid of such peril, I am not naive enough to rest on the laurels of fate's mercy."

He watched her silhouette framed in the doorway, a specter of enigma and warning. "Should our paths converge once more, it will be a testament to the complexities of the world we navigate. Until then, I will endeavor to meet whatever challenges arise with the same dedication I apply to my profession."

And with that, Melinoë was gone, leaving Zayne alone with the silence of his office and the weight of the knowledge she had imparted. The door closed with a definitive click, a period at the end of a sentence filled with more questions than answers.

Zayne turned back to his desk, his mind already shifting from the clandestine threats to the more immediate concerns of his patients. Yet, in the back of his mind, the shadow of the Ravenous, and the mysterious entities that sought to claim him for their own, lingered—a dark cloud on the horizon of an otherwise clear sky.

He resumed his work, the rhythm of his routine a comforting cadence against the dissonance of the unknown. But as he delved into the intricacies of the human heart before him, Zayne knew that vigilance would be his constant companion, a silent sentinel against the unseen forces that coveted his existence.

[gravity-barbie]

The Hargreeves crushing on someone who’s already in a relationship HCs

Request

Ben crushing on Klaus’s s/o

Masterlist

Luther Hargreeves

-Luther has a lot of romantic and moral ideals, and he’s more of a monogamous guy himself, so he feels pretty guilty about crushing on a taken person, and resolves to accept that you’re unavailable

-He can’t for the life of him let go of his attachment to you though, he feels things very strongly, and once your in his heart, he has you on a nearly unbreakable pedestal

-Similarly, despite how reasonable he tries to be about things, his disappointment hits hard, you’d think he’s going through a terrible break up with how heartbroken he acts

-Still as miserable as they make him, Luther wants to do the right thing and so treats your partner with the upmost respect, and hell they fact that you like them is a good sign about their character to him

-He could easily fall into the role of ‘emotional fluffer’, because he cares so much about you and so jumps at the opportunity to help or be there for you, it’s not some conditional thing, he does do it because he wants to, but it could easily be taken advantage of

-He’s pretty obvious, so you’ll probably figure his crush out, and if you question him on it he won’t deny it but he will panic a little, and say pretty much anything to ensure your opinion of him doesn’t sour

Diego Hargreeves

-Diego generally tries to avoid rejection where he can, so he’s pretty frustrated to fall for someone unavailable

-He tells himself that he’s gonna let it go, and that you’re not worth the drama, but that all goes out the window whenever he actually sees you

-He tries to keep his jealousy to himself, but it comes out in passive-aggression pretty often, which he will never admit the real motivation of, hardly even to himself

-It doesn’t matter what your partners like, even if they’re the kind of person Diego would normally get along with, he’ll find ways to get in macho, pissing contests with them

-He wouldn’t make a move on you or ‘play dirty’ though, he values loyalty and integrity too much, and considers himself above that kind of scheming

-He tries hard to prove he’s not some kind of whipped doormat or anything, overcompensating with empty tough talk and snark towards you, and yet say the word and he’ll drop everything in a heartbeat to help you

Allison Hargreeves

-Allison is pretty upset to learn you have a partner but forces a smile and acts all pleasant about it

-A lot of bad, scheming thoughts from a version of herself that she’s trying to escape cross her mind but she keeps a tight lid on them and if anything tries to be happy for you and move on

-And she does do a pretty good job at not fixating on you or making your friendship weird, but every once in a while you two will share a soft, little moment that reminds her she’s not over you

-Same goes for whenever she actually has to interact with your partner, as all that jealousy and frustration just bubbles to the surface, she isn’t obnoxious about it but she’s not her usual friendly self either, just a bit withdrawn

-She can become distrustful of them easily, her bias against them blending with all the bad relationships she’s seen, and if they were actually up to something there’s no way she wouldn’t figure out what

-Still, she knows how important love is, so if you’re partners alright and you’re happy, the biggest testament to Allison’s feelings for you is the fact that she’ll never tell you about them, or do anything else that could jeopardise your happiness

Klaus Hargreeves

-Klaus is fully willing to make a pass at you despite your relationship, he isn’t too serious about it, but he gets the message across that the offer is open

-If you don’t completely shut him down then he’ll hit on you pretty much every chance he gets, including in front of your partner if he can get away with it (honestly probably even if he can’t)

-But his feelings for you are deeper and most of the time, less obscene than they seem, really all of his flirting is just to distract himself from all the envy and longing that he doesn’t want to deal with

-Klaus is very used to not having things he wants, so he actually just accepts your current circumstances, he isn’t holding on to hope, playing the long game or otherwise planning on pushing his luck

-But he does really enjoy your company, and he isn’t gonna give that up, no matter how much harder it’ll make it to move on

-He would absolutely snatch up an opportunity to be something more with you if one came up, but he doesn’t resent just being your friend, with how much he’s lost he’s grateful for it in fact, and as long as you’re happy he’s… well not happy, but not complaining

Viktor Hargreeves

-Well if you’re unhappy in your relationship that’s one thing, Viktor has no problem being a home-wrecker if he honestly thinks you’d be happier with him and that’s what you want too

-If it’s not though, your unavailability is quite hard on him, he’s struck with a familiar longing and self-doubt that he experienced throughout his childhood

-He has a bit of a pity party over the whole thing, not a very dramatic one, but the people in his life can see he’s more gloomy and cynical than usual

-Except for you, partially because he tries to suck it up for your sake, and partially because even though you’re technically the cause of his sadness, seeing you never fails to uplift him

-He won’t shy away from competitiveness or snark towards your partner if they’re ever anything less than polite around him, and he could absolutely step out of line with it and even cause conflict between you and himself

-It takes a long while but eventually Viktor decides that he has to confess how he feels, even at the risk of losing you, you deserve to know and he’ll always regret it if he doesn’t at least try

[howdy-folks-its-showtime]

Anxious and a perfectionist, Showtime is either a kid with too much on his shoulders, a madman like his father Joey Drew, or a promising, eager director depending on who you ask. With a strong need to please and a determination to prove himself worthy of his status as the one to continue the legacy of his father, Showtime manages the other toons with a smile and Sin by his side to keep him from losing his head.

When he was just a young adult, Joey gave Showtime the task of managing the toons, trusting in the oldest among them to organize them properly. Showtime took to the job quite well, wanting nothing more than to show Joey what he was capable of, he kept everyone in line to make sure that they all played their parts in keeping the studio working and resolving issues among them. While his attempts to lead sometimes borders on bossing the others around, Showtime is almost always putting in a ton of work to make sure everything runs smoothly. He’s so dedicated to his job and responsibility in fact, that breaks are rare for him and even when asked to, he’s very hesitant to take a day off.

That’s one of the reasons Sin, a very close friend of Showtime has taken to being the demon’s right hand man. Where Showtime goes, she follows, helping him keep organized and calm as they do their work. Though it was like that before they were coworkers as well. She knows how to help Showtime not overthink every decision they make around the studio and the two have only grown closer while working together. Showy would have no clue how to keep himself from puddling constantly without her and he says so very often. He’s very honest about his love and admiration for her, but how deep his love flows he is not so open about...

While there is no doubt for how much Showtime is grateful to have Sin by his side, his constant need to keep as clean an image as he can of himself does lead to quite a bit of conflict between the two and others as well. Showtime is an extreme people pleaser and his need to be a perfect role model for children and as uncontroversial a figure he can be leads him to deny himself many simple pleasures in his day to day life. Even when the cameras and spotlights stop shining on him, Showtime seems very invested in not doing anything people would deem inappropriate or out of place for a Bendy character, citing the fact that while humans are born, he was created. The machine created him first, gave him to honor of being Joey’s oldest child and he takes that responsibility very seriously. He was chosen and their had be a reason, he had to prove he could be Joey’s true son despite his adopted toon status. He was another one of Joey’s creations and Joey always, always, strives for perfection.

Joey couldn’t be prouder of the little toon that the ink machine blessed him with and Showtime can’t think of anyone more blessed than he is. Despite his anxiety and frantic nature, Showtime is determined to prove to himself and the world there was a reason he was given this responsibility. He has to rise to the expectations of his father and his friends.

There’s always a reason... Isn’t there?