#it is the fucking truth. its not a bluff. i do not fucking bluff and i never fucking have. dont destroy any of my clothes dont hurt anyone

[heartofjasmina]

Inspired by this post and for @bakubunny <3

Tokoyami with a corruption kink and inexperienced!reader. Yeah sure you know a lot of stuff thanks to your tumblr blog and all the porn you read, you've had lackluster sex that never touched any of your real fantasies, you even talk a big game at all the college parties you both attend. But when he's got you back in his dorm and you're red in the face as soon as he starts getting undressed- it clicks. And it makes his dick hard.

"How much experience do you actually have puppy?"

"Not much, looks like. Can we ruin her?"

"I have t-tons of experience--" Your bluff is pathetic and you both know it. He walks over to you slowly, cornering you like prey until your back is against the wall. Dark Shadow curled around his surprisingly buff bicep as he rests his hand next to your head.

"Nuh uh, be a good puppy and tell the fucking truth. Or I'll have to assume you've been woefully under appreciated." His voice is so deep it sends shivers down your spine, and Dark Shadow's husky laughter doesn't help.

"I've had sex plenty of times, just.. never with anyone like you." You admit with your voice barely above a whisper, and it makes his balls ache.

Because he knew.

The rumors around campus about him having a thing for turning good girls into sluts. And since the rumors were true its not like he could deny them.

"We can fix that." He breathed out agaisnt your ear, his hips pressed into yours until you can feel the imprint of his dick against your stomach.

~

You should've been horrified by his collection of toys and costumes and slutty clothes for you to wear. But your pussy throbbed along with your heartbeat with every piece he dressed you in. From the frilly socks and buckle shoes to the tiny mini skirt and crop top, he had you transformed into a good girl bimbo in less than 15 minutes.

"Fumikage. She's so turned on I can fucking smell her."

"Is that right?" His massive hands were on you then, manhandling you onto his bed so he could fully enjoy the view of your thick thighs spread for him. The damp spot in your panties was painfully evident and you tried to hide your face. But Tokoyami was quicker, grabbing your wrists and holding them above your head.

"Ah ah, no hiding. Good sluts let their daddy's see how nasty they are."

"But-" Your face was flushed and your lips were drawn into a pout. Tokoyami thought you were adorable. And begging to get fucked.

"Its a good thing. Don't you want to be good for me, little one?" He cooed at you as he rolled his hips over yours, his cock pressed into your clothed clit. Your brain was growing hazy, and he was so convincing you found yourself nodding along without hesitation.

"That's my girl."

[moldy-flowers]

Naruto au where Jiriya comes back to Konoha to adopt Naruto like he promised to do but somewhere along the way they get Tsunade back in the village and Tsunade becomes Sasukes caretaker (She adopts him but neither are comfortable calling eachother mother and son yet so they stick with "The Lady in my house who cooks bad" and "the brat who doesn't appreciate good meals when he sees them")

Then at some point when Naruto and Sasuke are genins Jiriya and Tsunade get married and now Naruto and Sasuke have to live together. There's a really emotional scene of Sasuke having to say goodbye to his old home and its like "oh god its really all over they're not coming back I'm not coming back I can't just leave them behind I need to let go but I just can't do it" and Tsunade calls Sasuke her son for the first time and he totally doesn't cry!!!

Forest of death but Sasuke Sakura and Naruto already know who Orochimaru is, Sasuke knows absolutely not to trust him so the curse mark doesn't really affect him too horribly but it does lead for a lot of tension in the group. Also after being the girlboss she was born to be Sakura decides she can't be protected anymore and bc Tsunade is like, right there she asks her if she can be trained and Tsunade says yes obv. Hiruzen dies purely because i hate that guy but Orochimaru also dies to Jiriya and Tsunade also because I really really hate him too.

Theres the time when Kisame and Itachi visit Konoha and Itachi hears Naruto refer to Tsunade as his mom and Sasuke as his brother and hes GOT to know what's going on so he spies on them and learns that Sasukes been adopted but he sees this moment of Tsunade announcing she's pregnant (what a shocker she was 🤏 that close to never having to worry about pregnancy ever again but Jiriya just couldn't keep it in his pants for another 2 years, the manwhore.) And itachi sees Sasuke realising he's gonna be an older brother and being super happy about it saying he's gonna be the best big brother ever (Hades hangs his laundry on the bar its so low all he's gotta do is not kill everyone and he's already better than Itachi) and Itachi is like "ah man but how's he gonna get stronger there's no hatred in there i need him to do my suicide for me!!!" But Jiriya noticed he was there and confronts him a little later but see Jiriyas a little smarty pants and has been living in Konoha for years and always knew there was something fishy with the massacre and danzo so Jiriya just bluffs his way to the truth (Phoenix is that you?) And he's like "look Sasukes ur brother but he's my son now, he has enough nightmares and enough trauma and enough trust issues to last him a lifetime feck off and if you wanna die so bad then kill yourself and don't use your brother as a tool for ur suicide" <- I may be projecting a bit but ANYWAYS Itachi and Kisame have to leave Konoha bc Naruto is under watch by Kakashi, Tsunade and Jiriya and they are NAWT winning that fight.

Skip to shippuden era Sasuke v/ Itachi fight but Itachis been skipping out on his meds!! (He did it because he's a nerd loser guy who thinks "oh man sasuke isn't angry or filled with hatred and overall living a really terrible and unfufilling life he's probably so weak i need to stoop down to his level") Oh no so hes really super sick and Sasuke has picked up a lot from Tsunade so he knows Itachis time is near and although Sasuke really wants Itachi dead he's like "fuck it, dude you absolutely ruined my life and gave me trauma I'm never ever going to recover from sometimes I still wonder if my friends or family are going to turn around and kill me do you know how fucked that is why the hell did you even do that I don't want some bullshit excuse tell me" like he absolutely chews that loser (derogatory) out and Itachi is like, "kk ill tell u everything" and Sasuke is RUINED and he takes like a long 30 minutes of silence between the two just sitting there for Sasuke to go like "Itachi, I don't... think I forgive you. But I understand why you did it. I would have done it too" And its very emotional!! That moment is all Itachi needs bc he was sort of barely clinging onto life as it is and now that he's got peace he can finally die and they share a really sweet moment before he goes :(

And when Sasuke gets home and cries, (this time he can admit it cause he's a big boy now and understands it's okay to feel) to Tsunade he calls her his mother for the first time and its so ahaishahabnabsjsjnd

Anyways they all lived happily ever after the end no wars no nothing all over bye bye

[shadowphoenixrider]

Sins of the Past

(No matter how far you run and hide from your past, it has its ways of catching up to you. Set an undetermined time after Skin Deep and Summer Dreams)

"Has anyone seen Shadow recently?" Scott asked as he entered the rec room, frowning. "I can't seem to find her."

"No, not since the incident in the Danger Room with Wolverine." Storm spoke, glancing to the other woman standing nearby. "Is she not in her room?" Rogue shook her head.

"Ah checked sugah, she's not there."

"Library?" Scott glanced between the two women and the thoughtful Cajun leaning against the wall.

"No. Hank hasn't seen her either." Rogue said.

"It's unfortunate that Jean and the Professor are otherwise engaged elsewhere." Storm frowned. "Their help would be invaluable. However, there is only a limited number of places she could be. We must keep searching."

"Hey Gambit, you seem to know her best, you have any idea-" Scott turned around to see he was just speaking to empty space. "Oh for the love of-!"

---

Gambit drew his trenchcoat closer around him as the wind threw sheets of rain through the sky, whipping up the surface of the lake into peaked waves and waving the branches of trees back and forth, leaves rippling.

He made a lonely figure, pushing through the rainstorm across the open grounds of the mansion, heading steadfastly in one direction; the barrier of trees at the perimeter of the school. Usually the attempted hiding place of students wanting to get away with numerous illicit teenage activities, it was a place Gambit wanted to check for an altogether different reason.

Stepping through the sodden grass and mud towards the tree line, he saw the other small, lonely figure of young woman, curled up against the thick trunk of an oak tree that stood slightly apart from its peers. A smile tugged at his lips as he slowly approached.

"Gambit figured he'd find you out here," he spoke, just loud enough over the wind. Shadow tensed, shoulders lifting like she was bracing herself.

"Go away. Leave me alone."

"Wish dat I could, petite." Gambit replied. A gust of wind flared past them, spraying rain around the tree and over the young woman - her blue hoodie and jeans were already soaked through, and her trainers didn't look much better. The Cajun shifted his position and squared his shoulders. When the next wave of water came, his coat took the brunt, whipping around its tails and collar.

That absence made Shadow's head turn slightly from under her crossed arms, and Gambit thought he could see her glance at him.

"Dey lookin' for ya right now," he said, softly. "Worryin'."

"Shit." Her hand moved, taking a fistful of curly brown hair. "Fuck."

Gambit said nothing. He found that people emerged in their own time if you gave them the space to do so. Even in the middle of this storm, he wouldn't rush her.

Looking at her, huddled up between the tree's roots, he was suddenly struck by how small she seemed. That wasn't inherently a surprise; she was only taller than Jubilee by a couple of inches, yet right now, she appeared even smaller than that. Like a lost, lonely child. The comparison struck a part of Remy LeBeau that he hadn't acknowledged in a very long time; not even since that ugly business with Bella Donna and his brother - a past he took great pains not to acknowledge.

Shadow had always veneered her past under 'supportive yet confused parents', and a life where she and her powers had managed to fly under the radar - aside from trouble with her job and the failure of a long romance. That it was nothing to write home about, that she was indeed one of the lucky ones without an overly tragic backstory.

Gambit knew a bluff when he saw one. Shadow's was good, but not good enough; the best lies were the ones couched in truth, in the cards you let your opponent see. Give them a blank facade, with just a hint of strife to match, and no-one would think to look deeper. After all, you told them the worst parts of the story already, didn't you? What other things would you have to hide?

"Gambit..." Shadow's soft voice almost got smothered in the hiss of rain against his back. "Did you feel like you were different...even before your powers came in?"

"Ah, kinda hard to feel normal when ya eyes look like mine, petite." He chuckled half-heartedly. "'Side from that...I don't think so. Although," he shifted his weight on his feet, "thinkin' about it, I always had to be movin'. Sittin' still, it hurts after a while. Tried to do it once an' it nearly drove me mad. Still does now." He hummed thoughtfully. "Guess dat were my powers, even back den."

There was a brief pause, before Shadow moved, shifting her own position so her forehead was pressed against the crossed arms on top her knees. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face red and puffy from sorrow - Gambit's hand twitched with the need to reach out and comfort, but he held himself back. For now.

"I was never normal either. I could hear things no-one else could. Everything just felt...more. The doctors couldn't fnd anything wrong, so my parents thought I was an 'overly sensitive' child, or prone to an 'overactive imagination'." She sighed, shoulders slumping. "The kids knew, though. They knew there was something different about me, something 'wrong'. I was a weird kid by default, not mention I could hear things they couldn't? It sealed my fate."

She turned slightly to look at him.

"Do you remember when yours came in?" She asked. "Your powers."

"Foolin' around one night." Gambit replied, gazing into the tree line as he briefly stepped back into his memories. "Comin' off de high of a chase, celebratin' gettin' away..." He smiled ruefully. "Suddenly feel dis surge of excitement - next thing I know, de bottle explodes in my hands. Lucky it happened in my room an' not with de others, though lot more things broke 'fore I got a handle on it."

A faint smile also pulled at the edges of Shadow's mouth.

"Very lucky." She sighed again. "Wish that'd been me."

"Broken glass not often somethin' to consider 'lucky', petite..." Gambit commented, arching an eyebrow. Shadow did not reply.

He let the silence settle briefly between them, running his fingers over the pocket his card deck was nestled in, debating whether to risk the rain. It was already dripping off the ends of his coat and hair, and he was starting to wish that he had a hood - his ears were freezing. He wasn't going to complain - not when only he and this tree were Shadow's protection from the elements. How long has she been out here?

"Mine came in at school." She murmured. "Little kids are mean, but at high school? They got cruel." She looked back to stare at the gap between her knees. "I'd learnt to hide that I could hear their injuries, but I was still targeted for being the weird kid with no friends."

"I'll admit, I didn't do myself any favours. I had the social skills of a small potato and whatever bullshit I'd seen on TV, and my responses did nothing but fuel the fire." A half-chuckle. "Stupid, edgy bullshit I cringe just thinking about."

"That don't make what they did right." Gambit said, frowning.

"No. No...but I see how my responses could have removed any guilt from tormenting me further. I was an asshole, and with a short temper?" She lifted a shoulder. "Recipe for disaster."

The Cajun's lips thinned into a line, holding back his comment. No, Shadow. It still wasn't right, regardless.

"I tried so badly to ignore it, let it bounce off my skin, but it didn't work. More often than not, I ended up lashing out. It would stop the abuse for a time...but soon they'd start again, this time trying to bait the reaction."

I think I see where this is going.

"I don't remember what started it. I only remember a group of them had cornered me. It was one of the few times I didn't have my then-boyfriend with me - he'd usually help defend me, since he also got targeted for being a weird kid too." Shadow pressed her forehead hard into her arms, clearly reliving the moment. "I don't even remember what they were saying, but they were the same taunts I'd heard day in, day out. My own words thrown back at me from when I'd tried being edgy to scare them away. That I was some kind of freak because they couldn't immediately clock I was a girl."

She closed her eyes. "Somehow they managed to get the reaction they wanted - I swung for them. I missed, and they persisted, daring me to me to hit them again. I tried to resist, knowing that I'd get into trouble if I actually made contact. The ringleader got closer, reiterating all those things I'd said before as a cudgel. Next thing I know, one of the group steals my bag. I tried to stop them, but of course I'm blocked from doing so by the guy. They were laughing. They wanted to see me break." Her hands curled into claws, sinking into her sleeves. "So I did."

"I lunged for the guy in front of me, and I wrapped my hands around his neck, digging my nails in. I was so angry - I felt this surge through me, like adrenaline but more." Her fingers curled more, a pantomime of past events. Gambit shifted forward slightly, unsure whether he should stop her.

"I wanted to hurt him, I wanted to tear him apart. I felt this screaming, and I just dug my fingers in deep, deeper than I had before, things just yielding to me like I was tearing a piece of paper in two."

She released her grip, slowly flexing her fingers out and blowing a calming breath out of her nose.

"I don't know how they got me off him, but lucky they did." She lifted her head, tilting it back to expose the full length of her throat. "When I grabbed him, my fingers were here," she tapped both sides of the swell of her larynx, "I had intended to choke him, but I'd also managed to tear several wounds into both sides of his neck, deep enough to draw blood."

"Guess that were your powers kickin' in?" Gambit asked, quietly.

"Yup." She looked down at her feet. "In my anger I'd managed to partially connect with his cells, and I basically told them to split apart. My connection was weak, and the wounds were only deep enough to assume my nails had torn them open. Though all the more reason it was good that they stopped me when they did." A pause. She shook her head. "I could have killed him, Gambit."

"Yes. But you didn't."

Shadow whipped her head around to glare at him, eyes flashing with sudden anger.

"This is that meant to make me feel better?!"

"Non." Gambit replied calmly. She blinked, recoiling in confusion. "Gambit only statin' de facts. You got lucky, petite. Whether it be 'cos ya were stopped, or ya stopped yaself, you didn't kill him. Dat be good enough."

Shadow's expression softened slightly.

"That doesn't excuse the fact I did it..."

"Gambit not excusin' anythin'," he said, matter-of-factly. "But what's done be done, Shadow. Ya not gonna get a do-over like Bishop. An' even den, how else would ya have dealt wit dat back den?"

"I don't know, but some way that didn't risk the guy's life!"

"So de better option be to just lie down an' take de abuse?" Gambit retorted, scowling.

"No, but there must have been a way that-"

"Maybe dere were no other way, petite!" He snapped, stepping forward. He regretted it immediately when he saw her shoulders flinch. Yet he pressed on, albeit more gently. "Sometimes hurtin' someone be de only way out. No-one like those decisions. It be better if we never have to be makin' dem at all."

Another step closer to stand right next to her.

"I understand that if your life is in danger." Shadow replied, fidgeting with her hands, lacing and unlacing her fingers. "But mine wasn't. It was just-"

"It don't matter that it weren't life or death, Shadow." Gambit interrupted. "Sometimes you gotta make de best of a bad situation." He crouched down, keeping his broad shoulders against the storm. "It don't make what ya did right, but it still be de best option ya had. And wit how it coulda turned out, ya got de best outcome." He held her gaze steadily. "Gambit didn't always get dat lucky."

She stared at him for a long while, a controlled, neutral expression on her face.

"You mean you've..." She trailed off. Gambit tipped his head.

"Gambit done a lot of things he ain't proud of, petite," he said softly. "Lotta things he had to do dat he wish he coulda undone."

"I'm sorry." Was her equally soft reply. He lifted a shoulder.

"C'est la vie, petite. It's in de past now. Gambit just gotta try to be better den he was before." They held each other's gazes for a minute, before Shadow looked away.

"Shit, now I feel like I'm complaining about nothing."

"No." Gambit reached over, gently placing a hand on her upper arm - her hoodie was sopping wet to the touch. He dimly wondered how cold she was; her face was very pale. "It matters to you, petite. We don't be comparin' Cyclops' problems to Rogue's - dey both be sufferin' the same, just in different ways." He lifted an eyebrow. "Gambit don't think you'd be out here in dis if it not botherin' you."

Shadow sighed, running a hand through her wet hair.

"No. I just...I got scared, Gambit. I know it's stupid, I know that's exactly what the training was for; to test the offensive capabilities of my powers, but as soon as I started seeing those wounds open up..." She shook her head. The Cajun squeezed her arm reassuringly. "I was frightened I was going to lose control again. That I would, I would..."

"Ya not de same girl ya were back den, Shadow." Gambit said. "Ya stronger. Ya know yourself better now - last time your powers were fuelled by fear an' anger. Dis time ya powers be used for a reason, with clear eyes an' clear head." He offered her a wry smile. "An' Wolverine knew what he were in for. Even if he were gettin' a little more den he expected." Serves him right for pushing her, Gambit thought to himself. He can't expect what worked for Jubilee will work for Shadow.

"Is, is he ok?" Gambit almost chuckled, but managed to stop himself to just uttering an amused 'hah!'

"Oh he fine, petite! It be takin' much more than a few of your gashes to take him down." He rubbed his thumb against her arm. "He probably be jus' as worried as de others 'bout where you are. Even if he don't show it."

"Shit." Shadow ran a hand through her hair again, grasping a large handful of it "Fuck, I'm gonna have to explain all this, aren't I?"

"Non. You don't need to tell them anything you don't want dem to know." He replied. "Gambit won't let them."

Her smile was small and wobbly, but it was genuine, and Gambit hadn't realized how much he'd missed it until then. It brought the light back into her blue eyes.

"T-Thank you. I appreciate it. I...I know I'll have to tell them eventually, but fuck, not right now."

"Gambit be honoured dat you trust him wit your story," he said, smiling warmly.

"You're easy to talk to." Shadow replied, leaning her head against the tree, towards him. "Not that I can't talk to the others about stuff, but with you...It's just easier." Her smile broadened, reflecting in her eyes. "I trust you."

Gambit felt his heart thump a little harder than usual in his chest.

"Thank you, petite. Means a lot."

It was at that moment that Gambit felt a tremor begin under his hand, quickly quaking through the rest of Shadow's small frame. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself.

"Hurrr, w-when'd it get s-so c-c-cold?" She asked, even her voice trembling.

"You been out here too long." Gambit said, checking her over. When he touched her hand, his eyes widened at the cold, almost clammy skin. "Dieu! Ya freezin', mon amie! We gotta get ya back to de mansion an' outta dese clothes."

"Isn't that a little f-forward C-Cajun?" Shadow chuckled, despite her shivers starting to get stronger, rattling her entire body. "A-At least buy me dinner f-first!"

Gambit rolled his eyes.

"As much as Gambit would love to see what ya look like under dese clothes, he much prefer ya don't freeze first," he said. "C'mere."

He scooted closer to the smaller woman, opening his trenchcoat and gathering her up close to his body. He grimaced immediately at the feeling of drenched clothing against his mostly dry armour, and the fact his cuirass wasn't exactly the most comfortable or warm thing to tuck someone next to. That said, it was better than nothing.

"Merde, woulda thought they'd've thought to look outside by now." Gambit grumbled, fiddling with his commlink. Time to face the music. "Gambit here-"

"Where the hell have you been?!" Came Cyclops' immediate fury.

"Gambit been lookin' for Shadow, and he found her." He ignored the rage, sticking to business. "We be outside, towards de northern perimeter, by the trees."

"Wait, Shadow's out there?!" Cyclops' anger became tinged with alarm.

"Yeah, musta slipped out 'fore the storm hit," he said, glancing down at Shadow, who looked guiltily up at him. He gave her a reassuring smile. "Speakin' of, can ya please ask Stormy to give us a passage through? Shadow be shiverin' pretty fierce, an' dis coat not big enough for the two of us."

"I can do that Gambit, that infernal nickname not-withstanding." Came Storm's breezy tones, Gambit smirking. "Give me a moment and I will clear you a way."

"I will get the others to gather as many warm towels as we can find." Cyclops spoke through ground teeth. "We're going to talk about this when you get back here, Gambit."

"Sure, see ya den!" The Cajun replied cheerily before disconnecting.

"H-How'd you get S-Scott so w-worked up?" Shadow asked, her shivers vibrating through his armour.

"Mighta turned my comm off so we could have time to talk." Gambit explained. "Thought they'd find us eventually; didn't think I'd have to call."

He lifted his head, hearing the faint snatches of Storm's booming voice as she called the winds to heel. The rain suddenly arched away from them, the wind bending to create a long channel of clear air all the way back to the mansion.

"Dat's our cue, petite." Gambit looped his arm under Shadow's knees, lifting her up near effortlessly, pulling the edge of his coat around her as best he could with his other hand. "Hold tight, Gambit don't wanna drop ya."

He waited until she looped her arms around his neck before setting off at a jog down the tunnel Storm had created for them. He caught sight of her flying overhead, and gave her an appreciative nod.

"Ya know," he said, loud enough to be heard over the wind. "Gambit can see if he can rustle up some of his gumbo for you. You need something warm after all this." And it'd count as dinner too.

"I th-think I'd like that." Came Shadow's reply, and Gambit grinned.

(Next: Over a Bowl of Gumbo)

[xenodile]

Honestly, Crow has to arguably be the worst written villain in NIKKE. Like... no matter her justifications for her actions, at the end of the day, she's little more than a dollar store knockoff of Heath Ledger's Joker in the worst way. Diesel absolutely deserved to kill her, or at least maim her horribly. Ditto for the Commander, cuz like... Why even make a note of how she's literally the only Nikke that they've actively considered killing, if they're not going to follow through, ESPECIALLY after everything she's done? It's baffling.

It doesn't help that she's also one of, if not THE worst SSR Nikke in her supposed niche from a gameplay standpoint too, to the point that you'd genuinely be better off using basically any SR rarity Nikke in your squad instead of her.

My issue is less Crow herself, and more how the narrative of chapter 23 bends over backwards to act like she's smarter than she actually is, and like doing something to stop a person like that makes you a bad person in turn.

Like Crow's rhetoric of a charismatic and eloquent speaker that uses societal inequality to justify extreme measures, but in truth doesn't believe any of it because she's an antisocial sadist is compelling in its own right. A killer that understands people well enough to talk them into being complicit or make them second guess themselves just long enough for her to act makes for a very strong villain, but the point is she's full of shit, and once that's revealed, she should lose power.

Like the whole bit with Diesel was disappointing because it treats Diesel wanting revenge against the woman that murdered her and her little brother as being wrong, in a situation where stopping Crow would've been helpful and prevented things from escalating further. It doesn't make sense internally either, because Nikkes are created with the capacity to be soldiers. Like even Nikkes that aren't made with the intention of sending them to the surface, like the maids, the bunnies, the ACPU, and so on, all have NIMPH and the training to fight, and in Diesel's case specifically, protecting the passengers of the train is part of her job!

Like the way things went of "if you shoot Crow you'll lose part of yourself" "you'll forever associate the train with what you did" "you weren't built for revenge" all of it is just moralizing about how killing us wrong with no regard to the context of the story it's being told in. Diesel is a fucking COMBAT CYBORG that has gone onto the surface and fought in a warzone!! She took the train up and helped Counters fight through a horde of Raptures with Soline and Brid!!! Violence IS what she was built for, and the trauma of being a victim of Crow's previous train bombing has defined her. Like she says herself, she had been waiting her entire life for Crow to try bombing the train again so she could catch her.

I was so excited when Crow's bomb fizzled and then Diesel and Soline have guns on her in a second. It was Crow directly facing the consequences of her previous mass killing and Diesel getting closure against the person that harmed her, but then all of that is thrown out to act like this isn't a story where everyone is a living weapon that's trained to kill. Then, because the narrative decided all of a sudden that protecting yourself and others from someone who has made it clear they want to hurt or kill you is morally unacceptable, Crow is allowed to just walk away AND COMMIT FURTHER VIOLENCE. It's nonsense.

There's also the bit with the flamethrowers in the sewers that was just. Straight up bullshit. Viper threatens Rapi and Commander with a bunch of hidden flamethrowers, then Rapi calls her bluff and breaks a wall to reveal there aren't any, but when Crow needs a contrived excuse to escape suddenly there are a bunch of hidden flamethrowers. Like the story straight up contradicts itself to let Crow get away with things, to the point of not being coherent.

[illarian-rambling]

Sending hugs always!

Fire: share a snippet with some dialogue you’d like to show off.

Ice: share a snippet where a character is taking a risk.

Poison: share a snippet that’s all about relationships (good or bad).

Breath: share a snippet that makes you laugh.

Storm: share a snippet where a character is angry.

Please and thank you!

Thanks for the ask <3

Oh lordy, here we go! This turned out to be a lot, so keep reading for Izjik arguing with a timeless being on how blinking works, Astra joining a terrorist organization, Djek’s absolutely fucked vibes with his former mentor, Elsind and Avymere having an average interaction, and the walking ass worm that is Ivander’s father ;)

Fire:

Why didn’t I know about this before? the woman asked openly. If there’s an End cult, why couldn’t they have busted me out of religious jail? Hell, why didn’t they bust me out of the Trench in the first place and use me to spread the good word of misery and silence and crying orphans?

“Like we said, they are a small group and none of them have a connection to us as you do. And what makes you think we did not want you taken by the Chosen?”

Izjik gave a mental sigh, though it didn’t have the same satisfaction as it did when she could feel her lungs. I guess that’s cunning or whatever. But then what the hell are these people good for anyways?

“Numbers. Within our empire, we are many and the many can do much. Here on this stolen planet, though, we expeditionary few are forced to share one skin. The Heralds provide more skin. Skin we will need in the days to come.”

Will you please stop saying skin…

“It is the truth.”

Izjik could hear splashing as End waded through a shallow spring, though she couldn’t feel the water on her feet. Probably for the best, given the presumably chilly weather. At the sound of water, the woman had a thought.

End, the Heralds are just regular people, right? Not, like, mini-End-Made-Flesh?

The fiend cocked her head quick enough to cause her neck to pop. “Yes, they are but mortals. We require nothing more than that from them.”

Well, then…. Spirits, you’ve never been around mortals before, have you?

“We have been around you,” End protested. “Previous to your ascension, you were mortal.”

Izjik ignored that last bit and soldiered on. Well, mortals have these things called standards. They expect you to be presentable or else they’ll lose respect for you, maybe even scoot out on you if they’re disgusted enough. But you’ve never been mortal before, so how would you know?

“Find your point, oh flesh of mine,” End snapped.

You are fucking filthy. Though the fiend did not stop, its stride did slow just a bit. Izjik had its interest—she just had to keep it. You’re wearing pajamas, you haven’t eaten for nearly a day—hell, I’m not sure if you’ve blinked in all that time! Tell me, End, do you feel a pain in your gut? You feel lightheaded at all?

“What is pain?”

Izjik sighed at the genuine confusion in the question. It only made sense that End couldn’t feel pain. Or, more likely, its weird, demon brain just didn’t know enough to understand that pain was bad.

A squirmy feeling in your gut. One that wasn’t there before.

“Ah, that. We know of what you speak. What of it?”

You’ve got about three days until that feeling kills the both of us.

Now, End stopped. Through her stolen eyes, Izjik could see that they’d made it most of the way up the bluff. Surrounding her like an ocean of green and gold were unbroken miles of trees. They tossed like waves in the hissing wind, threatening to sweep over her little island of high stone.

“This… this pain—it can kill us?”

Pain can kill us, walking through streams without shoes can kill us. Not blinking might not kill us, but it can’t be healthy, that’s for damn sure.

End was silent for a while. Izjik tried to take in the view as it pondered her words, but she was too jittery to appreciate much of anything. Fucking hell, was she really briefing a timeless being on the fact that if it didn’t eat, it’d die?

“How do we remove this pain?” it finally said. “The starmind said we would be invulnerable to all wounds but those made with divine power. It said nothing of pain.”

Well, you’re going to have to drink water and eat food. Probably these Heralds’ll have some, but you should let me run things for that, because, believe it or not, if you mess that up, you’ll die as well. You’re still working on blinking and breathing, so I’m not sure if I trust you with chewing and swallowing.

“You wish for control.”

Izjik winced at End’s statement. The halawemavar had never been the subtle sort. Even if she had been, there was a decent chance End could hear all of her thoughts anyways. It was a flimsy play she was making. However, she gained an important advantage by making it. None of what Izjik said was a lie. And if she didn’t have to lie, then she might just have a chance.

Yes, End, I wish for control. You’ve never spoken to mortals except for those under your direct power. I obviously have. Let me get us cleaned up, let me speak to these Heralds as another mortal would, and let me get us some food for fuck’s sake! Again, I would like to remind you of the fact that, if you screw up eating, we die.

End made a strange sound, like something between a hawk’s keen and a choking dog. It took Izjik a second to realize that it was trying to laugh.

“You know this venture is foolish, yes? It will take us barely a scruple of power to overcome your will, avatar of ours. The moment you try to run, you will be our flesh once more.”

I know, Izjik said. I won’t run. I just want to feel something again. I want to feel the breath in my lungs and water over my skin. And I want to, you know, not die! We can agree on that, right? Neither of us wants to die?

“Neither of us wants to die, that is correct.”

Then are we cool?

Ice:

Astra’s mind ticked through the possibilities. Damn if these people weren’t swaying her. It was a decent plan, with more motive than anyone deserved. The serfs up here were a sort of sister people to the debtors of the Republic. If such a drastic example was set, once word reached the south, who knew what could happen?

And if the Archduke died, she would have free reign in his library. No more sneaking around for scraps in the night. She could spread the knowledge hoarded there to everyone—she might be the only one outside the noble book mages who properly could. The witch remembered those heating runes inscribed on the inner city fountains, then she imagined one in every outer city hovel. She imagined gravitation runes in the fields of Nakaow to relieve the heaviest of burdens and contracts renegotiated by fearful lords looking to their deposed peers to the north.

Aw hell, I’m about to make a stupid decision, aren’t I? Somehow, those always end up bein’ the best ones.

Only one question remained; was it right to kill a man for being a poor leader? It didn’t take Astra long to find an answer. She recalled the frozen bodies she’d seen on the side of the outer city roads, recalled the children reduced to hunting rats for survival. Once a person stripped the dignity from another, they lost all right to that dignity themselves. Those deaths were on the Archduke’s hands—and this wouldn’t be the first time Astra had supported the murder of a person who’d killed many others, even if they’d never met.

“I’m in.” Astra gave each of the leaders a dutiful nod, though she kept her grip on Loic, who’d been doing his best to be invisible for this entire conversation.

“You’re what?” Indre squawked.

“I wanna help y’all,” the witch said. “I was raised a debtors’ daughter down in the south and if some folks like you had been there, I’da joined ya in a heartbeat. However, I do have some demands. My help ain’t for free, after all.”

Poison:

Squinting, Djek could just make out the hazy form of a small child. He wasn’t any good with kids’ ages, but this one was on the young side. Her cotton nightgown stood out fiercely against her coppery skin. In the dark, it was hard to make out the details, but Djek didn’t need good vision to tell the girl’s cheeks were wet with tears.

Shit!

Djek glanced back into the bedroom. The floor was a smear of red. Like a splattered fruit, petals of gore spread from the shuddering body of the debtor. In one corner, Eztli Izel sobbed, one hand covering her face while the other reached for her love.

Between them stood Tyche. His friend was focused on methodically wiping clean her brass knuckles. Swiftly, Djek shifted his focus back towards the child.

He almost screamed when he noticed how close the girl had crept. Why the fuck are kids so damn creepy! Do I kill her—

No! The thought, then the brutal realization that he’d had it, hit Djek like a knife to the gut. No, no, no, no!

Glancing side to side, Djek shuffled closer to the girl. This close, her face resolved itself into one of soft features and a cleft lip. Her mouth quivered, eyes locked on Djek’s. She seemed to be almost about to ask him something.

In a panic, Djek summoned his shadows. Immediately, the girl’s face shifted from mute shock to fight-or-flight terror. She ran. Who wouldn’t after such a display? Djek gave a prayer of thanks for the home’s sumptuous carpet. Her escape was all but silent.

A hand clapped over his shoulder. This time, Djek screamed for all he was worth.

“Hey, cool it!” Tyche spat. “We’re done here.”

“Sorry! Sorry. I— I guess I’m just a little jumpy.” Djek’s heart pounded so loud he could barely hear his own excuses.

Tyche sighed. “You done good out here. Now let’s get the fuck out. I need a good bar crawl.”

“Isn’t the retrieval early tomorrow?”

“Sure is,” Tyche shrugged. “But… Well, we have to take the fun times when we can. Who knows what tomorrow holds?”

Djek gave a weak smile, but a sincere one. “You know me, always up for a good bar crawl.”

Tyche smiled back. Something glistened in her eyes, though after a moment Djek realized it was just moonlight. Roughly, the woman put a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, time to go.”

Behind them, a guttural wheeze echoed through the room. A whimper followed on its heels, a pathetic whine of pain and betrayal.

“Please, Gabi,” Eztli wheezed. A ragged sob was the woman’s answer.

And this is why you shouldn’t borrow what you can’t repay.

Gods, I’m a fucking hypocrite.

Djek squared his shoulders and tore his focus away from the bedroom-turned-abattoir, following in the wake of Tyche’s path. The night was warm. He was getting drinks with his best friend. He’d managed to not fuck up a job for once! The present was bright and new and shiny as could be. So why did the debtor’s screams keep echoing through his mind?

Breath:

"You said you needed paper?” Elsind asked, hoping to change the subject.

The Duchon nodded. “We have chalk for the message slate I can write with, but I need paper specifically. Or leather or anything else one can write on. I just have no idea where we’d get that in this blasted desert.”

Paper…. A ripple went through Elsind’s body as they recalled an unwise decision they’d made while purchasing supplies. Well, not unwise. But definitely not practical. And they’d used group money to buy it.

Cringing, Elsind drew a slim paperback from their supply satchel. Immediately, Avymere’s eyes went wide.

“Is that a book?” the elf exclaimed.

Elsind nodded, blushing profusely. “I, uh, when we split up to buy supplies, there was this stand selling them, and I— I thought riding with the caravan was going to be really boring, so… so…. Yeah. I’m really sorry. It didn’t cost that much, I swear! Only three tuec. I just… just wanted something to distract myself from all”—They gestured sheepishly at the desert expanse—“this.”

Avymere squinted as they read the title. “...The Leviathan’s Bride: A Monsterous Romance?”

“You don’t need to worry about that!” Elsind squeaked. “There are some blank pages at the back, we can use those.”

They held the book to their chest; partly because they didn’t want sand to get into the pages and partly because they didn’t want to give Avymere’s myopic eyes time to focus on the rather bawdy cover art. A person had to have their guilty pleasures, sure, but that didn’t mean everyone had to know about them.

The Duchon shook their head in mild shock. “That’ll work. And… and don’t feel bad spending a little group money.”

From their own pack, the elf pulled out a small wooden box and opened it to reveal a half-burnt stick of incense.

“What’s that for?” Elsind asked thoughtlessly. Two seconds later, their brain caught up and connected the dots. Immediately, their headfins flushed purple. “N-never mind, actually! I’m sorry.”

Avymere continued, not seeming to mind their witless remark, though Elsind did notice a slight tremor to the Duchon’s hands as they held the incense. “We can use the ash from this; it’ll be more convincing. Now, if you could lend me that book, I shall begin.”

(For context with the incense, that'd be like if Avymere had pulled out a funeral urn and Elsind had gone "What's that?")

Storm:

Antonin gestured out to the flooded expanse of the basement. Really, it was more of a massive crypt, if Astra was being honest. A crypt with no bodies. Or so she hoped.

“In the undercroft, there lurks a beast. It has been here for years and knows the territory well. Kill it, bring me proof, and your first job is done,” Antonin said.

Astra couldn’t help herself. “A fuckin’ what? A beast? Who keeps a godsdamned beast under their house? That can’t be up to code.”

“You are here to do what I tell you, not to ask questions.” Antonin tapped his cane on the floor, then nodded towards the dark, waterlogged halls. “If you do not return in two days, I will assume you have failed. Don’t fret though—I’ll send someone to retrieve your bodies should that come to pass.” His eyes latched onto Mashal’s chest, where the man’s heart rune resided. “I know some people who’d pay handsomely for such a unique dissection subject.”

Instinctively, Astra reached for one of her fire patches, while Mashal took a step back, clearly startled. Gods a’mighty, this was why she hated bastards in suits. They always felt entitled to anything they could buy, but never realized that some things weren’t for sale.

“We’ve already got a deal, so I don’t gotta play polite ’round you no more.” Astra stormed up to the Montane patriarch and jabbed a finger into his chest, not caring that she only just came up to the man’s chin. “If you ever say some creepy as shit like that again, I’m gonna set your desk on fire. I can’t get outta this contract and neither can you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make your life real fuckin’ difficult. Don’t ever talk to Mashal or me like that again unless you’re ready to piss on your favorite important papers when they go up in flames, ya feel me? We are your business partners. Treat us like it.”

Antonin looked down at Astra, his lip curled ever so slightly in an expression that conveyed it was beneath him to even feel disgust towards her. Distantly, something more than mortal seemed to shift within his amber eyes. It peered out at the little animal yapping at its vessel. It did not hide its disgust in the slightest.

“You seem to have an over-inflated opinion on how I treat my business partners,” Antonin replied curtly. “Go into the undercroft. Hunt the beast. Return with proof.”

“Smarmy shitsmear…,” Astra muttered. However, she stepped back. The sooner she got this over with, the sooner they could get on with stopping Vermir.

[raspbeyes]

Alright imma say it

It totally makes sense why everyone would be more upset over Kaito's death than Kokichi

Idk why theres this sentiment that Kokichi's desth was unfairly overshadowed by Kaito BUT YEAH NO HARD DISAGREE literally none of those remaining classmates would have any reason to show compassion for kokichi over kaito

Shuichi: as he is mc/player character his perspective matters most, so ill say the most on him. Sorry to saiouma fans (dw i do think the ship is cute but honestly works better under different circumstances for the two) but Shuichi has spent more time with kaito. After Kaede's death, it is Kaito (in Kaito's questionable way) who helped get Shuichi's willpower back. Kokichi says as much in ch 4. With shuichi being a very sensitive detective, he needed that pillar of support from kaito, one kokichi, while providing help in trials, doesnt give emotionally. Sure u can argue bias on Shuichi's part, but it is Kokichi's plot in ch 4 that caused him and Kaito to have a falling out, injured and captured Kaito in a bunker, and is the reason Kaito becomes the blackened Shuichi is forced to exposed and now watch be executed

Maki: Self explanatory af, but kokichi exposed her talent to everyone to have her be isolated due to kokichi's own distaste for murderers, regardless of maki's intent. Kokichi is the one who fucked around in ch 5 with her feelings, making her harbor guilt over supposedly killing kaito. It's his plot that gets Kaito killed off as blackened so yeah dont expect sympathy from her

Tsumugi: while idk if confirmed whether Kokichi had gone off Tsumugi's script, if that is the case, Tsumugi would 100% frustrated for kokichi messing up her plotline. Shes devoted her life to dr and has been a writer in numerous prior seasons. To have some kid try to attack the mastermind directly by messing with the game would to her feel like infringing on the game's intended entertainment. Besides, if everyone else hates kokichi, it's best for her to go along with it to blend in

Himiko: there def is a weird dynamic between the two, with himiko falling for exisal kokichi twice which is weird ... but yeah no overall himiko has a negative opinion of kokichi. While he did indirectly help her releasing her bottled up emotions in the end of ch 3, it's Kokichi’s way of doing things, meaning it usually comes off as rude. Pretty sure what Kokichi (and Gonta to an extent) caused in ch 4 is unforgivable for himiko, since literally everyone liked Gonta. Himiko out of everyone believed kokichi was the mastermind, feeling great despair once he revealed the truth of the outside world. While not specific, himiko is more of a case of kokichi's general creation of distrust in others. In contrast, kaito is uplifitng to himiko, being the one to defend her in ch 3 when tenko's death was ignored and moving the group along during ch 5.

Keebo: keebo admittedly has the most sympathetic view of kokichi after the trial, alluding to his "hopeful" nature and such, as well as his logical understanding of kokichi's motive. But generally, kokichi is just robophobic to keebo for the sake of pestering keebo, as well as asking invasive questions (do robots have di-?)

Kaito: without getting into kaito and kokichi's relationship/rivalry, kaito id argue does have the second most sympathetic reflection on kokichi, providing the group with Kokichi’s last words. Tho he does doubt them, mentioning he believed kokichi's plan wouldnt work (i personally hc that as just bluff to make shuichi feel better tho). And since its kokichi who blackmailed him into the plan, kokichi is in a sense responsible for Kaito's death so he'd probably wanna focus on making Shuichi and Maki feel better

Kokichi is my fav dr character but ngl he's a little shit to the remaining survivors. While i as an audience memebr feel terrible for him, im not upset or shocked by the characters' disinterest in his death

[thecameronchronicles]

Delivery

TW: semi-Dark!Rafe. Language. Smut. 

SUMMARY: A delivery to The Country Club puts you in Rafe’s sights…

WORD COUNT: 1500

*Requested*

Delivery

You hated doing deliveries to The Cut, but with college tuition looming in the near distance, you would grin and bear it while making your way across the green. Keeping to the path and out of the way of current golfers, you became lost in your thoughts by the time you’d hear his voice. The most entitled Kook throughout the entirety of the Outer Banks had devoted his attention to you for what you could offer him. 

“Why don’t you uh, give us one?”

“These are already paid for…” You reminded them as Rafe moved closer, running his gloved clad hand to his face, feigning a scratch, before refocusing onto you. 

“You’ve just-you’ve got so many…” To this, you would only try to move past him as he would use his golf club to force the bag to burst, his desired drinks now resting in the sand beneath you. Meanwhile, Topper gave a look to his friend for having apparently crossed a line, but refrained from reminding him. 

“You owe me for that-”

“I don’t owe you shit, pogue-” And to this, as you moved to retrieve the drinks, you were suddenly taken against him, the golf club pressed in such a way that you were sandwiched between him and its cold metal. 

“Nobody ever teach you to share?” To his words, you continued to shuffle against him, wishing to be anywhere else but in his confines. Even if his muscles tensed almost arousingly so around you, you were too annoyed to focus on anything but how you would explain this to Mister Heyward or the manager of the club, who would take the side of his client in opposition to you. 

“Fine you can have ‘em, just let me go-” You relented as he would only pull you tighter. 

“I don’t know…seems like maybe we could have a little fun-”

“Come on, Rafe…” Topper motioned as a member of security now made their way in your direction. Aware that any attempt you made to explain the truth would fall in favor of the instigators, you bowed your head as you were released. 

“See you ‘round, doll..” He teased forcing you to fall to your knees as you now derived a story to go tell your boss’s client. 

After an embarrassing hour spent within a humid office where you were berated and reprimanded, you made your way back to the boat stationed on the docks just outside of the club, before hearing his voice at your back once again. Hoping that ignoring him would be enough to deter him, you quickened your steps before feeling him take a hold of your arm. 

“We have some unfinished business-”

“Unless it’s to pay for what you stole-”

“Stole? No…you gave those…You were SO forthcoming, too…just begging us to…” You narrowed your eyes. “Makes me wonder what else you’re able to give…” You pulled your grip back into yourself and tried to leave, as he appeared before you. 

“Don’t-” 

“Not like you can exactly say no…Not like anyone would believe you…”

“Just let me go…you got your beer, you had your fun-”

“Normally I would. I wouldn’t waste my time with a pogue…But I Just can’t forget how you fell against me…squirming like that…makin’ me so fucking hard…So don’t you think you should deal with what you caused?” Your eyes widened as you knew him well enough to know he was brazen enough to act on this so to call his bluff would be futile and even fatal. Instead, you walked backwards slowly and towards the direction of the club, hoping he wouldn’t act on it if you could just make it inside. But he sourced your gaze, learning of your ambitions without anything more than your lowering eyes. 

“Don’t even think about it-” And you would, acting on your soles, before he would take you beside the clubhouse, just out of view of anyone who could help you. In one last ditch effort, you parted your lips to scream, before feeling him silence you with his hand. The thick palm and long fingers also working as a means to station you against the wall as he set his knee between your legs. 

“I bet you like it rough, don’t you? You like being pounded from behind, taken deep and hard like a whore?” You could only widen your eyes against him as he lifted his leg even higher beneath the skirt of your dress. 

“Shit…” You closed your eyes tightly as he learned how this had aroused you, a betrayal to the usual hatred you had for him, but you shared the excitement he had for you in this moment. Even if he was an asshole in every sense, he was handsome and a vision behind your fantasies for his chiseled features colored beneath the sun into that caramel hue. 

“Does it turn you on to be treated like a slut or to know anybody could see that you are one? Hmmm?” But you remained silent, still, fearful of the lengths he would go to any response you’d offer. 

“Unless you answer me, I’ll be forced to guess what you want…So you can either tell me and enjoy what I’ll do to you or endure what I want…Consider yourself lucky I’m even giving you the choice. 

You slowly nodded, placing your hands softly on his shoulders, before lowering to your knees, your fingers on his belt as you swallowed hard. A sudden grip to your hair forced you to look up at him. 

“You try anything-” You shook your head, ending his warning before he had to finish it, while he would slowly nod. 

“Then do it.” He set his head back for a moment as he felt you take him between your lips. Even if you knew nobody would understand why you’d done this, you didn’t care for anything but feeling him quiver for you. 

Perhaps it was a power trip, a need to stroke your own ego to know that of all the cross words spoken against you that you could bring him to his own pleas. No matter the reason, you were on your knees for the Kook Prince himself, his fingers wrapped in your hair, as tears streamed down your cheeks. 

“I knew you’d be good on your knees, but fuck…” He belted, shameless if he would be overheard. In fact, a part of him wished you would be all in order to show how well you took him. 

“Bet you’re tight aren’t you? Dripping right now?” You nodded, moaning against him as he nodded. 

“Then turn around-turn the fuck around-” But you continued, leading him to draw you there by force, skirt lifted, an dcock shoved to your revealed folds. 

“Fuck yeah…Take it like that, yeah…” He grunted into you, his dominant hand on your hair, pulling you back at an uncomfortable angle as his second kept your skirt high enough so he was able to watch himself sheath and unsheath in and out of you. 

“You like that?”

“Yes…” You groaned. 

“Then tell me…Tell me how good I feel-”

“So good…” You groaned. 

“Any pogue dick like mine, huh?”

“No!” You spoke honestly. 

“No?”

“NO!” You validated. 

“Bet none of them could even make you come…bet they wouldn’t even know where to touch you…” You moaned as he pulled you to lean against his chest. 

“You wanna come? Huh? You wanna come on my cock?”

“YES, Rafe!” He groaned. 

“Say my name again-fucking scream it…”

“RAFE!” You obeyed as his fingers rounded to your clit, rubbing in precise but quick motions as you began to shake against him. 

“God, you’re desperate…You want this so bad you’re willing to let anyone see you like this? Hmm? My cock so deep inside you that it’ll leave a goddamn imprint?” You nodded. 

“Then beg for it…Beg for what you don’t deserve-” His lips came hard against your ear, “pogue!” For this he would hear a string of your pleas dying in volume as you came closer to that edge, bringing his along with you as he continued those painful thrusts, hard and quick, contrasting the pleasure it allowed in total. 

“SHIT!” He belted in finality, withdrawing before you would feel his release, turning you back to your knees. 

“Finish me. You don’t get my cum inside of you, trap me like that….nice try-” Although it wasn’t a thought, you obeyed as you moved back to your knees, taking him into your mouth once again and allowing him to finish. But the time you were done being used as his vessel, you were sore and throbbing in every place he’d touched you, before being discarded against the wall. 

A small collection of cash would be withdrawn from his pocket. 

“For the beer…” He moved back towards you, taking his finger between your slick and taking it to his lips. 

“For me…” And with this, he abandoned you with the guilt and satisfaction only possible from Rafe Cameron…

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @my-baexht-ls @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae

[doctorwhoisadhd]

god i fucking hate that post thats like "moffats era sucks bc the characters dont ever just hang out like they do in rtd era"

first of all thats literally untrue. like literally it's not even close to the truth, there's SO many scenes where the characters just hang out, 11 has a picnic with amy and rory TWICE, 11 amy and rory sit on the couch and eat fish fingers and custard, 11 plays blind mans bluff with the kids (or THINKS he does, anyway), 11 and clara go to the market in rings of akhaten, theres the scene at the end of time heist where the heist team is eating takeout and laughing and talking, bill and 12 do christmas crackers in his office, and so on and so on! like its literally just not even true!

and secondly, the notes are full of a bunch of ppl being like "well actually there WAS that one episode where 11 just COULD NOT hang out and hated it" (and MOST if not all of these people arent even fucking sure of the episode) and its like... that's literally not... what happened. like, that was power of three, and what was happening was that they were sitting there doing NOTHING. bc they were watching the cubes, which were, again, doing NOTHING. and being that moffat confirmed both in and outside of the show that the doctor has ADHD, the fact that so many people are misreading it that way is like... really pretty fucking gross.

[widoglock]

Caleb with amnesia tho

Fic idea currently gnawing on the wires of my brain:

After Kingsley sails off on his own, the Nein don’t hear from him for months. It’s not long before the gang starts to worry. Caleb gets word of Kingsley’s last known location—luckily somewhere Caleb has seen, which permits a teleport checkup.

Caleb finds Kingsley in a pissy mood. He’s unkempt and cagey as an alley cat, dodging Caleb’s questions and rejecting his concern. Kingsley doesn’t tell Caleb, but the truth is: Over the past few months, he’s regained the last of his memories. The context of his old life has only worsened his sense of alienation from the Nein. Kingsley has witnessed all the little ways his friends have moved on without him—how his absence has shaped them into stronger, happier people. In the face of their growth, Kingsley feels like a shard that doesn’t fit.

So yeah, he sailed the fuck out of Dodge. Better that the Nein never find out how much he remembers; he’s sure now more than ever he’ll never live up to the rosy shrine of their collective memory. He’ll always be a ghost first and his own person second—a forgery, only as good as its approximation to the real thing.

Anyway. Caleb hates to push, but he knows something’s deeply wrong with Kingsley and he’s not about to let him sail off the face of the planet. So he’s like, “I am not leaving this ship until you tell me what is going on.” And Kingsley tries to call his bluff like, lol okay magic man!! :)) there’s a rat problem and the navigator has the flu and my cabin’s only got one bed!! :))) have fun and try not to get eaten by the crew!! :))))))

But of course Caleb is stubborn as a rock and he just...hunkers down, fully prepared to starve Kingsley out. The two orbit each other for days, Kingsley refusing to explain his predicament and Caleb refusing to fly away home.

Problem: a pirate fight or some-such. A wizard nukes Caleb with a powerful memory wipe spell. When Kingsley finds Caleb in the aftermath, he’s curled up and panicking in a corner of the ship, his latest memory being the stone floor of his sanatorium cell. He, Kingsley, and the rest of the crew are days from land (and therefore a healer), and Caleb has forgotten all but his most basic spells.

Kingsley does his best to catch Caleb up to speed. It’s not clear whether Caleb buys his story or not. When Caleb asks Kingsley how they met—

K: “It’s—I’m gonna do my best to simplify, all right? It’s a lot. So first: Lucian. Not the nicest guy, by all accounts. Lucian croaks, and when he gets resurrected...he wakes up sans memories, right? A blank slate. That blank slate names themself Mollymauk. With me so far?

C: “Sure.”

K: “That’s the guy you met, after you escaped with Nott. Adventures ensued; a fellowship was born, yada yada. Then Mollymauk got stabbed to death. Now—when Molly was resurrected, he came back as the first guy, Lucian. Still with me?”

C: “Ja, I...suppose.”

K: “Then Lucian died—”

C: “Again?”

K: “Took some practice to get right, I guess. Anyhow—with Lucian out of the way, you tried to resurrect Mollymauk—”

C: “Stop, stop. I am—Kingsley, I am sorry, but how many times are these two going to die and be brought back to life?”

K: “As many times as it takes for the joke to get stale, I guess. The point is, you didn’t bring...I mean, you brought back somebody. Just not...You brought back a sort of—an amnesiac hodgepodge of Mollymauk and Lucian. That’s me.”

C: “The ‘amnesiac hodgepodge.’”

K: “Just like grandma used to make.”

C: “Ha. So...You can’t remember your past. And I can’t remember my future. Have we always been so...”

K: “Unlucky?”

C: “Spiegelgleich.”

And now a pre-Nein Caleb and a post-memory-restoration Kingsley are stranded on a ship together for days with nothing to do but talk about their feelings...Oh, the horror!

[ferociouslycreativemystery]

Ahem. This is your regularly scheduled reminder to read/watch Kallocain by Karin Boye. The Book Ever, or also a... very 70s/80s dystopian sci-fi series available on SVT Play (then only within Sweden and in Swedish though).

For anyone who's ever been interested in stories about facades crumbling, this is one where a scientist, in his work for a totalitarian state that demands absolute loyaly and sacrifice of its subjects (á la 1984, though this book predates the publishing of that one by almost a decade), has developed a perfect truth serum (kallocain) which unwittingly comes to reveal the humanity trapped just beath the surface of this totally repressed society. Cue lots of conflicting interests, both within the main character's loyalties and among the powers that be. What makes a life worth living? What do you make of it in such circumstances? And how does a society respond to its bluff being called?

Might just fuck around and make a Captain/quotes from Kallocain thing at some point, cause I mean come on some of the stuff in there is just too on the nose to pass up.

[sins-of-the-sea]

Though for the captain and Prometheus, it likely felt like ages for their trip, but, back at the house, Rashid would only see ten minutes pass on the clock from the time the god and his captain had left the home.

Ten peaceful minutes of silent night that would soon come to an end as the symbol over the patio door began to glow a faint blue. If he listened closely, Rashid would hear the sound of feet shuffling outside. Of leaves and brush being pushed aside and iron dragging on stone.

The glow on the doors would fade as the symbol over the bay windows glowed instead. Whatever it was. It was moving, and Rashid could easily follow its path through the house.

Though if he were to follow it in the foyer, he would see that symbol over the front door was already glowing.

There's at least 2.

Rashid taps his fingers along the table as he sat by the incense, having completed a round of checking the house to make sure all the doors and windows are covered and nothing has fallen off. Good. The quiet is intense despite nothing going on. The man takes in a deep breath, hoping to distract himself from his nerves by focusing on the incense itself. Perhaps trying to identify it.

He smirks a bit, imagining an argument he and Ruixiong would probably have on what the incense would be. Gardenia? Pine? Myrrh? Sandalwood? Camphor? He chuckles to himself as the scenario would get out of hand in his head, as any discussions would Ruixiong tend to happen. As chaotic as the notion is, it's a strange sort of comfort. Knowing he has a friend to take his mind off of his anxiousness all while eager to help complete a nervewracking task.

…Though it seems the scenario breaks sooner than Rashid had anticipated. He looks at the clock… ten minutes. Only ten minutes. That's how long Prometheus has left the house. Luna did not take long at all.

"Khara!!" the man mutters beneath his breath as he gets up immediately upon hearing the footsteps. Please let it be just one set… no. Two. At least two. There could be more, but that would have to entail opening the covers to check outside. He will not deviate from that objective…. not with magic he doesn't fully understand. Especially gods' magic. He observes the glowing runes, following them… likely signalling their location should the house be ambushed.

He is not taking any chances. For all he knew, an entire army has arrived... or at the very least two beings far stronger a single human man can face alone.

"-=Rise, my army!=-" Rashid would command as he extends a hand. A wind would kick up saffron dust around him as the colors shape up across the foyer. Skeletons form from the saffron, some with tower shields taller than they are, and some with assorted firearms and swords. They are immediately tasked to cover the the windows and doors across the entire house, any with runes and symbols intended to keep spirits out. Hopefully this is enough to deter any intruders should they try….

…..and Rashid prays said intruders will call his bluff. As powerful as this spell is, the skeletons can only do basic, simple tasks: attack. Without Rashid directly controlling them, they're as useless as painted dummies with targrets on their skulls. He can only control so many at once. If engagement is to take place, then Rashid is fully fucked.

But he's not going down without a fight. He summons two more mirage warriors, this time fully armored up, and with shields as well as swords in addition to their guns. And to top that off, Rashid conjures his own sword--the Mamluk-era kilij Khaddim Alqamar--as well as his own shotgun and handguns should the fight reach him.

"I don't know why you've come…" Rashid says as though the intruders can hear him. "But I swear upon the Titan of Fire and the Goddess of Truth--I will not let any of you pass."

[automatismoateo]

Am I being racist or am I traumatized after losing my culture? via /r/atheism

Am I being racist or am I traumatized after losing my culture? I was born in a Muslim south Asian middle class family. My dad and his family destroyed my mom‘s career and this put a strain in my parents’ relationship. They quarrel/scream a lot at each other in the house. I may have developed anxiety /obsessive compulsive disorder. The anxiety due to the religious indoctrination and their relationship made me quit dance classes and make several other poor decisions in life. Unlike Christianity Islam replaces thousands of years of your ancestral culture and forces you to lead an Arabic lifestyle. Gone are the music, dance and art. After I lived in the west for 5 years, my mom and brother came to live with me. Let me tell you Muslims utter their God’s name after every little action from sneezing to blinking. They only mix with other muslims and live isolated lifestyles. Now everytime I see/hear/smell/touch a hijabi( damn the liberals for this) or anything remotely Arabic, my anxiety is triggered to the point I have panic attacks. The liberal counsellors here don’t understand my pain and some atheists here call me far right. I believe I am not far right for saying I wish I was born in Christian/Jew family because although those religions are misogynistic they don’t mentally drain followers and are not high maintenance. They both can be reformed but Islam can’t be reformed which makes it the worst one out there. My rational side tells me it’s all bluff but my anxiety ( religious indoctrination) tells me to ruin my sleep at 4am and pray, pray five times, fast an entire month, wear fucking packets and lose my hair. Day by day I am losing respect for Muslims due to my suffering while having to wait for securing a job. I might have it wrong and Christian/Jews might have equally worse. Islam can’t even produce a single happy/secular society and when Muslims immigrate they bring the same garbage values that made their country poor and continue their vicious cycle of misogyny/poverty. Tell me exchristians/Jews did you have it equally worse? Do you think liberals should filter out muslim immigration more(not ban it but be more cautious of it?) Edit-After the thousand upvotes in my previous post, for the first time in my life I felt like some people understood my pain. Muslims scream at me saying its the truth, my liberal hindu friend said its the people not the religion(LMAO the religion says she will go to hell), my liberal counsellor was telling me one day I might go back to it. Submitted August 12, 2024 at 01:22AM by Ready_Choice_5014 (From Reddit https://ift.tt/3aEVxbf)

[bellwitchfaggot]

Oh so everyone knew I was Ella enchanted the whole time except me I see

[star-anise]

Ok, I'll bite. What *is* the difference between Bridgerton and Jane Austen in relationship to their skirts?

Oh! Not in their costuming, just in their general *waves hands* everything. It's a comment I see a lot about Bridgerton: "Well, it's not much like Austen, is it?"

That's because there are 200 years of literary history between the two, and they have not been empty!

This ended up being 1.5k words, but when I put stuff under a readmore, people don't actually read it and then just yell at me because of a misread of the 1/10th of the post they did read. Press j to skip or get ready to do a lot of scrolling (It takes four generous flicks to get past on my iPhone).

First I'll say my perspective on this is hugely shaped by Sherwood Smith, who has done a lot of research on silver fork novels and the way the Regency has been remembered in the romance genre.

The Regency and Napoleonic eras stretch from basically the 1790s to 1820, and after that, it was hard to ignore the amount of social change happening in Britain and Europe. The real watershed moment is the 1819 Peterloo Massacre, where 60,000 working-class people protesting for political change were attacked by a militia. The issues of poverty, class, industrialization, and social change are inescapable, and we end up with things like the 1832 Reform Act and 1834 Poor Law.

This is why later novelists, like Charles Dickens and Elizabeth Gaskell, are so concerned with the experiences of the urban poor. Gaskell's North and South has been accurately described as "Pride and Prejudice for socialists."

So almost as soon as it ended, people started to look back and mythologize the Regency as a halcyon era, back when rich people could just live their rich lives and fret about "only" having three hundred pounds a year to live on. Back when London society was the domain of hereditary landowners, when you weren't constantly meeting with jumped-up industrialists and colonials.

Jane Austen is kind of perfect for this because she comes at the very end of the long eighteenth century, and her novels show hints of the tremors that are about to completely reshape England, but still comfortably sit in the old world. ("The Musgroves, like their houses, were in a state of alteration, perhaps of improvement. The father and mother were in the old English style, and the young people in the new. Mr and Mrs Musgrove were a very good sort of people; friendly and hospitable, not much educated, and not at all elegant. Their children had more modern minds and manners.")

Sherwood Smith covers the writers who birthed the Silver Fork genre in detail, but there's one name that stands out in its history more than any other: Georgette Heyer.

Georgette Heyer basically single-handedly established the Regency Romance as we know it today. Between 1935 and 1972, she published 26 novels set in a meticulously researched version of London of the late 18th and early 19th century. She took Silver Fork settings and characters and turned them into a highly recognizable set of tropes, conventions, and types. (As Sherwood points out, her fictional Regency England isn't actually very similar to the period as it really happened; it's like Arthurian Camelot, a mythical confection with a dash of truth for zest.)

Regency Romance is an escapist genre in which a happy, prosperous married life is an attainable prize that will solve everything for you. Georgette Heyer's novels are bright, sparkling, delightful romps through a beautiful and exotic world. Her female characters have spirit and vivacity, and are allowed to have flaws and make mistakes without being puritanically punished for them. Her romances have real unique sparks to them. She's able to write a formula over and over without it becoming dull.

And.... well. The essay that introduced me to Heyer still, in my opinion, says it best:

Here's the thing about Georgette Heyer: she hates you. Or, okay, she doesn't hate you, exactly. It's just that unless you are white, English, and upper class (and hale, and hearty, and straight, and and and), she thinks you are a lesser being. [...W]ith Heyer, I knew where I stood: somewhere way below the bottom rung of humanity. Along with everyone else in the world except Prince William and four of his friends from Eton, which really took away the sting. But my point is: if you are not that white British upper-class person of good stock and hearty bluffness and a large country estate, the only question for you is which book will contain a grimly bigoted caricature of you featuring every single stereotyped trait ever associated with your particular group. (You have to decide for yourself if really wonderful female characters and great writing are worth the rest of it.)

So Heyer created the genre, but she exacerbated the flaw that was always at the heart of fiction about the Regency, was that its appeal was not having to deal with the inherent rot of the British aristocracy. I think part of why it's such a popular genre in North America specifically is that we often don't know much British history, so we can focus more on the perfume and less on the dank odor it's hiding.

And like, escapism is not a bad thing. Romance writers as a community have sat down and said: We are an escapist genre. The Romance Writers of America, one of the biggest author associations out there, back when they were good, have foundationally said: "Two basic elements comprise every romance novel: a central love story and an emotionally satisfying and optimistic ending." A strong part of the community argue that publishing in the genre is a "contract" between author and reader: If it's marketed as a romance book, there's a Happily Ever After. If there's no Happily Ever After, it's not romance.

It's important for people to be able to take a break from the stresses of their lives and do things that are enjoyable. But the big question the romance genre in particular has to deal with is, who should be allowed to escape? Is it really "escapist" if only white, straight, upper class, able-bodied thin cis people get to escape into it? In historical romance, this is especially an issue for POC and LGBTQ+ people. It's taken a lot of work, in a genre dominated by the Georgette Heyers of the world, to try to hew out the space for optimistic romances for people of colour or LGBTQ+ people. These are minority groups that deal with a literally damaging amount of stress in real lives; they are in especial need of sources of comfort, refuge, community, and encouragement. For brief introductions to the issue, I can give you Talia Hibbert on race, and KJ Charles on LGBTQ+ issues.

Up until the 1990s, the romance genre evolved slowly. It did evolve; Sarah Wendell and Candy Tan's Beyond Heaving Bosoms charts the demise of the "bodice-ripper" genre as it became more acceptable for women to have and enjoy sex. The historical romance genre became more accommodating to non-aristocratic heroines, or ones that weren't thin or conventionally pretty. The first Bridgerton book, The Duke and I, was published in 2000, and has that kind of vibe: Its characters are all white but not all of them are aristocrats, its heroines are frequently not conventionally beautiful and occasionally plump, and its cultivation to modern sensibility is reflected in its titles, which reference popular media of today.

This is just my impression, but I think that while traditional mainstream publishing was beginning to diversify in the 1990s, the Internet was what really made diverse romance take off. Readers, reviewers, and authors could talk more freely on the internet, which allowed books to become unlikely successes even if their publishers didn't promote them very much. Then e-publishing meant that authors could market directly to their readers without the filter of a publishing house, and things exploded. Indie ebooks proved that there was a huge untapped market.

One of my favourite books, Zen Cho's Sorcerer to the Crown, is an example of what historical romance is like today; it's a direct callback and reclamation of Georgette Heyer, with a dash of "Fuck you and all your prejudices" on top of it. It fearlessly weaves magic into a classic Heyer plot, maintaining the essential structure while putting power into the hands of people of colour and non-Western cultures, enjoying the delights of London society while pointing out and dodging around the rot. It doesn't erase the ugliness, but imagines a Britain that is made better because its poor, its immigrants, its people of colour, and the foreign countries it interacts with have more power to make their voices heard and to enforce their wills. Another book I've loved that does the same thing is Courtney Milan's The Duke Who Didn't.

So then... Bridgerton the TV show is trying to take a book series with a very middle-of-the-road approach to diversity, differing from Heyer but not really critiquing her, and giving it a facelift to bring it up to date.

So to be honest, although it's set in the same time period as Austen, it's not in the least her literary successor. It's infinitely more "about" the past 30 years of conversation and art in the romance genre than it is about books written 200 years ago.

[harryschicagooutfit]

Stockholm Syndrome

Rafe Cameron x fem!Reader

a/n: first writing ever!!! Go easy on me. Season two has me in a chokehold rn, so I thought it was only right to write something for my favorite psychopath.

warnings: angst??? Choking, manipulation. Nothing else I don’t think.

Rafe’s POV:

I slowly made my way down the hall, keeping my ears keen to make sure I could hear where she was. Heavy, shaky breaths came from the guest bathroom, I let my feet follow them. I could see the silhouette of her body through the cracks of the bathroom door frame. She had her hands placed in the bathroom counter, letting her neck hang as she stared into the sink, thinking all the possible thoughts she could be. I mean, what are you supposed to do when you find out your boyfriend might be a murderer?

I wish my father was better about keeping things on the down low. Wheezie and Y/N both have ears like a bat. They found out while going for a late night whatever they were doing when Y/N was sleeping over last night. I loved that she did that kind of stuff. Go to know my family, slept over whenever I need it, constantly hung out with my little sister and she even got on my dads good side. I’m not ready to let any of that go, I’ve got to do everything in my power to convince her the opposite of what she heard last night.

“Y/N?” I question softly behind the door, putting my hand on the handle, pushing my way in.

I don’t get a reply. Just a sniff of her nose in response. I hope she’s not crying. I don’t do well when she cries. I take a few more steps toward her and place my hands in either side of her arms, careful not to startle her. I rub the goosebumps that are beginning to form and land my hands on her shoulder. I begin to rub her gently before I start speaking.

“Need to talk to you, darling.” I coo behind her.

“About what?” She questions. That’s the first time I’ve heard her voice all night. She’s spent most of the day avoiding me after hearing my dad.

“You know what.” I answer, trying to keep my voice cool rather than stern.

“It’s not true. Let’s start there. You’re tense baby, you need to calm down.” I switch subject rather fast, feeling how stuff her muscles were underneath my fingers.

“Of course, I’m tense, Rafe. It’s been a weird fucking day.” She curses at me, ignoring my request to talk about it.

I sigh, knowing it’s gonna take me awhile to get it out of her. I know Y/N well enough to know that all I need to get the truth out of her is to feel it out. Literally.

Y/N’s POV:

I couldn’t make up my mind. I heard it clear as day.

“I just wish Rafe could control himself. We’ve got so much heat on us because he let his temper go and now Peterkin is dead.” I heard Ward tell Rose from outside his office. My hand shot up to cover my mouth as I walked away as fast as I could.

“I know it’s been a weird day, but you have to hear me out. And trust me.” He pushes my shoulder blades again, starting to massage the tenseness out of my body. His hands are something I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of. The feeling of them simply makes me melt. I let a sigh fall from my lips quietly, not wanting him to know I’m giving in so easily.

“I know what I heard Rafe. That’s not something you just mishear. When we’re you gonna tell me?” I question him, finally lifting my head to make eye contact with him in the mirror.

He takes another step toward, closing the gap between us. I can feel the stiffness of his chest as it rises and falls. His eyebrows draw together in confusion. One of his hands makes its way to spread across my chest, then rises up to get a grip on my neck, turning it almost harshly so that I was forced to look him in the eye.

“You really think I would do something like that?” He scans my face for a clue of what’s going on in my brain. To be honest, being this close to Rafe kind of shuts down every other thought I have going in. Especially being held like this. I sigh as I lean my cheek further into his palm, trying to call his bluff or see if he was telling the truth.

“I have no idea what you’re capable of, Rafe.” I spoke my truth, my lips brushing his thumbs as I spoke.

“Look, Y/N. I know I’ve got issues, everyone in my family does. That whole Peterkin story is just an inch of the truth about what’s been going on these past few months.” He explains, eyes bouncing all over my face to sort out how I was reacting. His grip on me felt guilty.

“I wish you would just tell me what’s going on. I don’t feel like I can trust you anymore Rafe.” My eyes fell to the ground, watching his feet shift around mine

“I know, baby I know. I wish I could too.” He spoke with ease, loosening his grip on my neck, and turning me around. He took his pointer finger and thumb, grabbing my chin to lift my head until I had no choice but to look him in the eye.

“Hey, hey. Look at me. I would never let anything happen to you. I aim to protect you, that’s why I can’t get you involved” He told me, sounding genuine. No matter how sketchy things with Rafe got, it felt good to know he was there to protect me. I wish he would spend this much time protecting himself.

“I don’t want you getting hurt…” I whispered, letting my hands lay flat on his chest.

“I’ve got myself covered. You don’t have to worry about me, princess. Just let me worry about you. About us.” He spoke, backing me into the counter, lifting me so that I was now sat with him standing dangerously close in between my thighs.

“I really like you, Rafe. Just want us to work out without all that extra bullshit. I just wanna be yours.” He had me hypnotized. I don’t know what about him it is that made me word vomit like no tomorrow, but it needed to stop. Letting him know how badly I need him was only giving him more power.

“I really like you too, Y/N. Don’t worry about that other stuff. Come here.” He traced my sides all the way up to my face to grab ahold of both of my cheeks, smiling at my face when he took at a moment to study it.

“So pretty.” He spoke, quieter than normal.

Damn it.

I clutched the fabric of his shirt and yanked him towards me, meetting his lips in a harsh kiss. I could feel him try to hide the smirk forming on his lips. He got me. He knows it.

Rafe’s POV:

I got her. I know it.

Most people think its unlawful to lie to someone you care about so much, and normally I would agree. I really was doing this to protect her. And myself. If she knew what was really going on, shed leave me at the drop of hat, run back to her pouge friends and never speak to me again. I just can’t have that, not when she feels this good.

I tightened my grip on her hips, pulling her closer and earning a hushed sigh from her lips into my mouth as return. She kissed my lips with desperation, biting on my bottom lip when I pulled away.

“It’s been a long week baby. Barely been able to spend any time with my girl.” I began to explain, hopefully taking her mind from places other than my criminal acts.

I dipped my head into the crook of her neck, beginning to her from this angle. I could literally feel her pulse against my temple. I loved when she got like this for me. I kissed along her collarbone, nipping every few seconds to earn a squeal from her. My eyes fell upon the golden “R” charm that fell right in between the two bones. I got it for her birthday not too long ago, it was erotic to see my initial around her neck like that.

“I missed you.” She confessed quietly. Her small hands fell on either side of my torso, gripping the material of my shirt every so often when I would hit a soft spot on her neck.

“Yeah, missed you too. Let’s go have some fun, Dad and Rose won’t be home for like an hour and Wheezies gone.” I offered, backing up to look her in the face. Her blissed out eyes met mine in a sensual haze, a gloss running over them in her state of arousal.

“I’d like that.” She nodded, almost immediately.

“Good girl.” I say, tapping her butt twice signaling her to get off the counter and follow me. We passed a mirror on our was to my room and the sight of her holding onto my hand, walking ten toes behind me, so eager for me was all I needed to see to know that she was fooled.

[griffintail]

Bedroom Confessions

Summary: After waking up from a night of drinking (Y/N) and her helper confess a few things. (Part 2 to Drunken Care and Cuddles) 

Requested: Yes by @exorcisms-with-elmo​ 

Pairings: Wilbur, Technoblade, Awesamdude x F! Reader (Separately, In-Game)

Warnings: Hangover?, mentions of drinking, Swearing

A/N: Phil was not included because I already made them dating so I just did these three. Thank you for requesting! Hope you enjoy! ♥

        Wilbur

        It took a while but Wilbur was able to go to sleep. Everything just felt so right and it was a comfortable warmth but eventually, he managed an hour or two of sleep.

        The peaceful slumber was cut short though as Wilbur jumped at the sound of his son’s shout that woke up him.

        “Sorry! I was just looking for you! Come back later!” Fundy quickly said before closing the door.

        Wilbur rubbed his eyes as he tried to wake his groggy mind. Why would Fundy be looking for him…? Right, there had been a party last night and Wilbur was known to get drunk but he hadn’t last night. He had been glad to because…

        His eyes snapped down to see the woman groaning as she woke up after Fundy’s shouting.

        “Why the hell were you…?” She started to call as she kept her eyes shut tight to fight off the hangover but stopped, feeling something off.

        This didn’t feel like her bed…

        She reluctantly opened her eyes and looked up to meet the face of a bright red Wilbur, her own face heating up rapidly as she jumped back. Her head pounded at the fast movements but she couldn’t help it right now. Why the hell was she in a bed with her new president?! The same guy she had a crush on since she first met him!

        “I’m sorry.” He told her quickly. “You hadn’t gotten drunk last night and since you didn’t have a home right now, I brought you here. And I tried to sleep in the front but you didn’t want to be left alone.”

        “Oh god, what did drunk me say?” (Y/N) thought as she tried to form words.

        Wilbur stood up on the side of the bed, nervously running a hand through his hair.

        “I’m so sorry sir.” (Y/N) finally said, wincing at her headache. “I hope I wasn’t too much of a bother to you.”

        “It’s alright, I was more worried about making you uncomfortable in the morning.” He told her before clearing his throat. “I’ll be in the front of the van if you need anything. There should be a few potions in the chest to help the headache too.”

        With that, Wilbur let himself out of the room, no one else in the van now. Because no one was there, he put both his hands on either side of his head.

        “Alright, don’t freak out again.” He muttered to himself. “Just act normal. Not like you slept in the same bed as her and don’t even know if she likes you…Damn it, stop!”

        Meanwhile, (Y/N) tried to calm down the redness spread across her face as she stood up. She spotted her coat and hat on a chest and she put them on before digging through the chest. There was a spare health potion and she took a small drink of it to lessen the pain in her head, the potion unable to fix it completely as that wasn’t its purpose.

        As she stood there adjusting her hat, she desperately tried to remember what she might have said last night. She remembered starting to drink with the others as they all cheered and celebrated. Wilbur told everyone he just wanted to enjoy their new freedom. Everything else was fuzzy.

        Wilbur had taken her to a place to sleep like the true gentleman he was and even procced to put up her drunk self. It made (Y/N) smile softly, reminding her why she liked Wilbur before she frowned about what she might have said that she can’t remember.

        “God, I better not have something stupid.” She muttered before taking a deep breath and walking away.

        Wilbur had distracted himself, cleaning up the mess that had been created of the chaos from the final battle. When the door opened, he saw (Y/N) and gave her a smile.

        “You ok love?”

        “Yes, Mr. President.” She smiled back, putting her hands behind her back.

        If he was acting like normal, maybe she didn’t say something embarrassing.

        “Please, I’d like it if you still called me Wilbur.” He told her, a light blush back on his face.

        “Oh, alright Wilbur.” She nodded slightly.

        He put the things he had in his hands away properly, (Y/N) shifting on feet before helping to tidy a few things as well. After he put the things away, he adjusted his jacket nervously. Now was a better time than any, before they both had to work and Wilbur had to deal with the men outside.

        “I…I wanted to talk about you some things you said last night,” Wilbur said.

        (Y/N) froze and gave him an embarrassed smile. “Oh god, what did I say?”

        Wilbur once more ran a hand through his hair as his nerves shot up. “When—When you asked me to stay…you told me you loved me.”

        (Y/N) went bright red as she stood up straight, hiding behind her hands. “You’re joking right?”

        Wilbur melted, she looked so adorable like that and his mind lost all thought for a moment. “I—No, love. You said that.”

        “I’m so sorry Wilbur. I shouldn’t have ever drunk last night.” (Y/N) started to ramble as Wilbur came over to her.

        He took her hands and moved them from her face.

        “Calm down darling.” He muttered. “I told you that to simply ask you, did you mean it?”

        Wilbur stood nervously as (Y/N) ducked her head, before nodding.

        “I do like you, ever since we first met.”

        His heart swelled and he smiled widely before tilting her head up to kiss her forehead, causing the woman to freeze. His nervousness flooded away knowing that it was true.

        “Well then let me tell you that I fell in love with you since you told Dream to fuck off right to his face.”

        “Really?” She breathed.

        “Would I ever lie to you love?” He chuckled and she shook her head slowly. “Good, now that we have that sorted, would you give me the honor of being L’Manberg’s first lady?”

        “…I’d be honored President Wilbur Soot.” She smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        Technoblade

        “…what the hell are you doing in my bed?” Technoblade heard, groaning at being woken up.

        He opened an eye to see (Y/N) squinted at him to avoid the light and having just woken up herself.

        “You were being stupid last night.” He said simply before closing his eye again.

        Neither was embarrassed by the situation of being in such a position. They’d both deny it to their grave, but there had been times when they were scared or needed comfort and both were their own comfort friend as they had been best friends for years now. They had fallen asleep like this before, though not in a while as both had started to develop feelings for the other, neither noticing as they were as dense as bricks.

        “What does that mean you damn nerd?” She huffed.

        “That’s my line.” He pushing her away from him but she avoided his hand and sat back on her own, rubbing her eyes.

        “What happened last night?” She asked.

        “You got drunk.”

        “Yeah, I can kind of tell by my headache. But that could be because of you.”

        He opened his eyes slightly to give her a glare, which made her smirk.

        “But seriously, what happened?”

        “All of you had a party, I stayed out of that.” He told her. “I didn’t know you got drunk so easily but you did. You became sickly nice and Tommy tried to scam you while you were.”

        “That little prick.” She glared at the door.

        “We’ll deal with him later.” Techno waved his hand. “After, you wouldn’t leave me the hell alone and had me stay with you.”

        (Y/N) blushed lightly at that but turned away, not looking at Techno as he closed his eyes again. He didn’t want to bring up what she said yet, his thoughts still fried about it. She was drunk, she couldn’t have meant it. Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make fun of her for it without directly telling her.

        “Well, nothing too embarrassing.” She muttered.

        “I mean, you were pretty stupidly embarrassing.” He snorted quietly.

        “What does that mean?” She threw up her arms.

        “You told me to not tell Technoblade a secret.” He told her, not giving her the whole truth.

        “Oh my god.” She put her face in her hands. “What secret?”

        “I mean, if I talk about it, technically I’m telling Technoblade.” He shrugged.

        “What leap in logic is that?!” She exclaimed, wincing at the pain she caused her head.

        “Don’t hurt yourself.” He cracked an eye open again, watching her. “And technically, I’ll hear if I say the secret out loud.”

        “Well, I already said it to you, you jackass.” She rubbed her temple. “So, tell me.”

        He looked to think about it before shaking his head as he finally got up. “Nah.”

        “I fucking hate you.” She groaned, laying down on her bed.

        Techno paused at the door, thinking for a moment before deciding to just say it.

        “No, you love me. Oops, guess I heard.” He smirked at her trying to play it casually, making her sit up quickly, face bright red.

        “I did not say that.” She tried to call the bluff.

        “Sorry nerd, you did. You were drunk though so…”

        She played with her shirt and he stayed where he was.

        “…did you hate that I said it?”

        Techno stood there watching her. It was obvious that she did mean it. That her word had been true and matched his emotions. He debated his next words as the voices were telling them how soft it would make him, how she was already in the way because she was his friend and too nice to be with the blood god, how he should keep his mouth shut.

        “No, I didn’t. I love you too nerd.” He told her; his face deadly serious as (Y/N) looked up in surprise.

        “You mean it?”

        “Do I lie?”

        “You try, but you’re terrible at it.” She admitted.

        “Heh?!”

        She giggled, and his expression softened at the sound.

        “So, how about we leave Wilbur to mope with his hangover with Tommy and we go back to sleep?” Techno offered.

        “That sounds fantastic.” She agreed and Techno came back to the bed.

        He laid down and she nuzzled into his side. Running his hand through her hair much like he did last night. They were both content as Techno rolled his eyes at the voices changing their tune and calling him a simp.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        Awesamdude

        Sam was a pretty light sleeper, so he wasn’t surprised that he woke up to (Y/N)’s movements as she got up first.

        “Hey.” He greeted her before she freaked out.

        Didn’t work, she jumped and would have fallen off the bed if not for Sam’s faster reflexes. He caught her arm and pulled her to sit on the bed.

        “How…What are you doing in here?” She questioned in surprise, wincing as she held her head.

        “Hang on, I’ll get you a potion and I’ll explain it to you,” Sam told her before getting up.

        He went to his bag, taking out a spare health potion. Handing it over to the woman, she took a small drink of it to help relieve some of the pain. It wouldn’t take it all away but it would be enough to at least function in the morning light.

        “Usually, you just drop me off if I have too much to drink, what happened?” She inquired.

        “Well, what do you remember?” He asked her in turn as he sat back on the bed.

        “I don’t know, it’s kinda fuzzy.” She muttered as she handed the potion back and he put it down on the floor. “I remember sharing a few with Ant then I think we started a few games?”

        “Yeah, that’s how the party started. Ant convinced you to yell swears across the room to annoy Bad once you were both pretty drunk but I stopped you after that. After that, you were actually pretty clingy.” He teased.

        “Bull.” (Y/N) tried to call his bluff. “You always whine about how I won’t listen to you when I’ve had too many.”

        “Yeah, that’s the usual case, that wasn’t last night.”

        “I don’t believe you.”

        “Well, how do you explain me being here instead of my own house?”

        “Well—I—I was just crazy drunk and you wanted to keep an eye on me.” (Y/N) blushed slightly in embarrassment.

        She couldn’t believe in her drunk state that she clung to the best friend she had started to develop a crush on.

        “It wasn’t bad though,” Sam assured her with a grin. “You called me super smart and a great fighter after all.”

        (Y/N) groaned as she put her face in her hands. “Bet that boosted your ego.”

        He shrugged. “You also said how it would be nice to stay with me forever.”

        “What were we doing?!” (Y/N) threw up her arms.

        “We were just taking you home.” He laughed.

        “God, I’m never getting drunk again.” She muttered.

        “There was one more thing,” Sam told her and she fell back on her bed.

        “What did I say?” She huffed.

        “Well, I’d like if I could look at you when I told you.” He said, all his teasing gone.

        He felt a spike of nervousness as she sighed while sitting back up. Hopefully, she’d repeat what she said last night.

        “What?” She asked, meeting his eyes.

        “You…You said you loved me.”

        She went bright red as he could feel himself getting warmer.

        “I’m so not drinking ever again.” She ducked her head.

        “…did you mean it?”

        She fiddled with her hands before nodding. “I do love you. You’re just…so fantastic.”

        He smiled widely as he went over, crouching down, (Y/N) glancing at him.

        “Well good, because I love you too.”

        She hugged him and he laughed hugging her back.

        “You should probably rest up and I need to go take care of Fran,” Sam told her, smiling into the top of her head as he was so tall. “But I’ll come back later and we’ll go on a date?”

        She nodded, grinning into his chest.

        He was so happy she truly meant it.