#somethings are cool some seem vaguely annoying

[vigilskeep]

Did you read the ign article about which choices will matter in Veilguard? What are your thoughts?

i’ve come to the realisation i simply don’t care very much. personally

i’m not really a person who cares a lot about having endings tied up by the official writers. a few months ago the characters and plot points i already love might have been what i was hoping for, but right now what i’m excited to play is veilguard, itself, and i’d rather they spent their time and focus on the game they want to make and that i’ll get to play, rather than on throwing in details about cool stories that they promise are happening offscreen, and finding increasingly desperate excuses for why an alive HOF is somewhere else. and in a way i find the fact that they are outright deciding to treat the games as their own complete stories encouraging for the writing of veilguard itself, implying the consequences of your choices will be felt within the game and planned for, rather than vaguely promised for some future episode that is never coming, like they often have been

i understand why other people are upset and i think it’s completely reasonable that they are, i have zero interest in trying to convince anyone they should feel one way or the other, but i’m also not going to pretend i feel strongly any particular way about this when i don’t. i admit to being a little baffled about how they’re going to handle it, especially with the inquisitor being in the game. but i’m not attached enough to inquisition or any of my inquisitors for that to be something i feel strongly about. if anything on a personal level it wipes out a lot of my weird stress about inputting the “right” worldstate that often stops me actually enjoying the games

to be clear: would i have loved to think zevran would appear or at least be referenced? is it deeply fucking annoying that only a handful of (white) characters seem to get that VIP, always-returning status? sure of course! but i think i consider not being able to input my own specific worldstate details a separate issue and one that is not going to change whether veilguard is good or bad, for me

[adozentothedawn]

Thoughts about Rogue Trader so far:

Well that sure was the fastest promotion I've ever gotten. xD I'm kinda sad about it, I was hoping for a mean space mom, but I'll take it.

I like the characters so far! Although Abelard does not appear as space dad either for now, but that's alright he's still cool. As are Indira and Argentum.

I am a bit confused by the gameplay and am uncertain how much of that is just Warhammer things I don't get or strange choices. I'm sure the "wounds" label probably comes from ttp so whatever, but the fact the whole characteristics and skills thing seems a bit unbalanced to me for now considering that Int controlls nearly half of all skills alone. But maybe I'll know better once I've gotten a better handle of it. It just seems unintuitive as a whole right now. I like the combat though! Might turn the difficulty a bit higher even, I'd like to get a bit more of a challenge I think. (That said, story mode does do what it's supposed to. It should be extremely easy, I just changed my mind on what I want) Still somewhat confusing like the hologram thing I think might not entirely work as intended but I'll get a handle on it.

Main criticism for now: This game is badly optimizied. Apparently that is a notorious Unity sin so I won't blame them too much, but I do hope they'll patch it soon, this game should not make my cooler run louder than BG3. Turning off v-synch and putting a lower fps cap has helped for now, but come on.

[inbarfink]

One common Undertale misconception that really frustrates me is when Sans is portrayed with a strong innate sense for RESETs and alternative timelines. Like, that he remembers the RESET timelines better than the other characters who only have occasional feelings of deja vu or even that he can sense when a timeline is RESET.

And that’s, like, almost the opposite of the actual text of the game. While pretty much every main character can have slightly-different dialogue in a Not-True-RESET, especially if the Player had previously befriended them, based on the idea that they have lingering memories/feelings from before the RESET - 

Sans has no real dialogue changes based on this conceit. All of his changes are based around noticing Frisk has different reactions based on their memories of the precious timelines. 

Other characters do also make observations like that about Frisk, like Mettaton and Toriel. But Sans is distinctive because this is the only way his comments change between RESETs and there are a lot of them from him.

Because that is what really frustrates me about this misconception. People mention it as one more thing that makes Sans cool - but the actual truth is far more badass. Sans is one of the people in the Underground who remembers RESETs the least. I think memory-resistance to RESETs is probably tied to Determination. Flowey, the second-most Determined person in the Underground after Frisk, can remember everything perfectly.

Everyone else has some vague feelings and deja vus. And Sans, he’s the least motivated person in the Underground - both in the sense he’s lazy and in the sense he’s fucking depressed.

That probably means he has very little Determination. Thus, he doesn’t remember anything that happens between RESETs.

And yet, he is still the character most aware of them. Because he has the technological know-how to read and analyze timelines.

And because he has the observation and analytical skill to notice a RESET from other people’s reactions and behavior. Whatever it’s Papyrus thinking he recognizes someone or Frisk’s behavior implying that they know something they shouldn’t have. Sans main RESET-related skill is just being able to identify these moments and come to the correct conclusion about them. And with that he manages to be the most aware character in the entire Underground.

Like, the one point where it might seem like Sans remembers something from a previous Timeline is the Fake Spare scene during his boss battle. 

But it’s all pretend. Unlike the previous lines from other characters that I mentioned, this dialogue plays even if the Murder Route is the first time the player touched the game. Sans isn’t remembering anything in this scene. But he makes an educated guess that the Immoral Time God probably tried using their powers for good at first, so they were likely ‘friends’ in a previous timeline. And in most cases, his guess is right on the money - tricking many players into thinking this is another case of the game actually reacting to their past actions.

And as always, Sans can only tell if his lil’ trick worked or not based on the expression of the Player Character.

Arguably, Sans even uses his lack of Determination and cross-RESET memory to his advantage in his boss battle. After all, the whole point of this fight isn’t to kill the Player - Sans understands this is impossible. This is a war of attrition, trying to get the Player so frustrated and annoyed with the unfair fight that they just ragequit or RESET the Timeline. And this war of the Player’s patience versus Sans’ stamina and will is infinitely easier for him when he doesn’t actually perceive all the Player’s previous attempts against him.

Like, for the Player this might be the billion time they go up against him, they’re aware of some of his patterns and tricks now but they’re probably also frustrated and angry and exhausted. Meanwhile, from Sans’ POV, this is still the first time this is happening. He knows it’s not from the Player’s behavior and Frisk’s expression - but he doesn’t feel it like the Player does. 

He doesn’t feel the frustration and repetition of the endless stalemate. So he’s always as fresh as a daisy no matter how rugged the Player is getting.

And that’s part of why Sans is so cool in the first place, like, in general. He’s technically the weakest person in the Underground, lacking in every standard evaluation of power in the setting - no ATK, no DEF, no HP, no DETERMINATION. But he’s darn clever enough to overcome these weaknesses and even use them in ways that make them into strengths, enough to be one of the most dangerous and most aware guys in this whole setting.

Sans can’t remember anything, and that makes him awesome.

[indierpgnewsletter]

There's Other Kinds Of GM Advice: Theatricality versus Transparency

(This first appeared on the Indie RPG Newsletter)

I find that broadly there are at least two kinds of GM advice – and they have a very different philosophy underpinning them.

The first kind of advice aims at all costs to maintain verisimilitude. It’s a solution that you can implement without breaking the players’ immersion in their characters. This can just be stuff like Matt Colville explaining that if your players are taking too long discussing plans, guess what, orcs attack! We’ve all probably played a game where people were going in circles and not able to decide what to do. If it looks like we’re not able to decide, we’re probably going to be relieved if the GM makes something happen to break the deadlock and prompt us back into the action.

(Historically, this kind of thing was taken to egregious lengths like Gary Gygax saying if players start acting uppity, have a rock fall on their head. It’s mostly gone now but reddit tells me that Cyberpunk Red which came out relatively recently still says something similar.)

The second flavor of advice involves breaking character and talking to your players directly. I know “talk to your players” is a mantra repeated so often that autocorrect suggests it as soon as you type the letter t. At its worst, this advice is vague and unhelpful. We’ve all considered talking frankly to people in our lives, we just find it awkward and hard and annoying. But, but, but – at its best, just describing the problem as you see it and escalating it from a character discussion to a player discussion will make it go away instantly. Like magic. (If you’re not sure what that means: In a previous issue, I discussed Jason Tocci’s excellent advice on escalating conversation in this way.)

And since the theatrical flavour of advice has the weight of history on its side and transparent advice keeps getting boiled down to mantra form, I thought I’d write down some examples of situations and some alternative ways to handle them:

Situation 1: The players are marines discussing whether to dive into the alien lair and recover their stolen engine (their main goal) or go and see if another missing team of marines is okay. There is only 45 minutes left and this is a one shot.

Theatrical: The other marines suddenly come on the radio and say, “hey we’re okay, please complete the mission.”

Transparent: “Hey, folks. There’s 45 minutes left. If we don’t do the alien lair now, we won’t be able to do it at all. Is that fine?”

Situation 2: The players are low-level fantasy nobodies who have a famous wizard friend. They’re about to tangle with some medium-level bad guy and decide to call in their wizard friend.

Theatrical: When the players try to contact her via a telepathic phone call / spell, she sounds breathless and says she’s busy doing something way more important like fighting a dragon.

Transparent: “Hey, folks. If we get the wizard in, she’ll absolutely make this fight a cakewalk. We won’t even need to roll initiative really. Is that what you want? Or would we rather have a fun fight?”

Situation 3: The players were having fun exploring when they meet a cool NPC (an android! an elf! an android elf!) who has this interesting backstory with an urgent, earth-shattering hook. They go along with the android elf because it seems more important but immediately look like they’re having less fun.

Theatrical: Narrate how the android elf meets a group of other android elves and have the elf say, “Hey, now that I have these folks helping me, you can leave it you want!”

Transparent: “Hey, folks. Talking to you as players here, do we want to stick with this whole android elf plot here? It does mean that we won’t do any open-ended exploration. Which would you prefer?” If they want to ditch the elf plot, you could just retcon it entirely or do the theatrical solution.

All of these situations have happened at my table. They’re all relatively low stakes and I think whichever way you handle it, it’ll probably be fine. But that said, some situations absolutely work better when done transparently so if you’ve never tried the transparent way, give it a shot. If immersion matters a lot to you, try it at the end of the session.

/End

PS. The theatrical options often still require the players to willingly suspend their disbelief and go with it. If a player didn’t play along, they might just say “I thought their radios weren’t working, otherwise we could’ve just contacted them before. Why can they suddenly contact us now?” or “Oh, the wizard is fighting a dragon right now. We can totally wait. There’s no reason we need to fight the bad guy right now.” And sometimes I can’t shut off that part of my brain either so I won’t judge. But if there’s a way to sidestep that situation even coming up, I’m going to take it every time.

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

What hcs do you have for Tokyo revenger characters slipping and falling infront of someone they like ?

Here's how I think each of the guys would react to them falling in front of someone they like!

Takemichi- Poor guy is so embarrassed, nearly cries from the shame and goes bright red. Scrambles to get up and away from the situation.

Mikey- He's a bit embarrassed but is honestly more concerned about the taiyaki he just dropped. Quickly brushes off the embarrassment of falling and demands Draken get him another one while pouting.

Draken- Mentally curses, that wasn't very cool of him and he was trying to impress you. Gives you a slight nod before walking off, vaguely thinking of ways to make you forget that.

Baji- Gives the floor a quick whack as punishment, then gets up and walks away, pretending he didn't even see you. (Maybe if he never brings it up then you won't either????)

Chifuyu- Blushes a lot while letting out a quiet curse. This isn't how it's supposed to go!? Smiles as he gets up though, goes to crack a joke but his mind goes blank and instead leaves without saying a word.

Mitsuya- Grumbles a bit at first but eventually ends up laughing it off. Figures that seeming chill about it is the best approach.

Hakkai- He just stays on the floor, doesn't even try to get up.

Pah- Goes red and turns away from you, he expects you to laugh at him but is pleasantly suprised when you don't.

Peh- "what are you looking at!???" He didn't mean to come off as aggressive but ends up questioning you. He's just very nervous around you.

Smiley- Hopes and prays you somehow didn't just see that. Peeks up at you before putting on a confident act, that everything is fine.

Angry- Frowns even more, he's a bit upset at falling in front of you but at least the fall wasn't a serious one. Gives you a thumbs up to show he's ok. 

Mucho- Says nothing, just gets up and leaves.

Sanzu- Blinks in surprise, he really wasn't expecting to fall in front of you. Blushes a bit at you seeing him like that but quickly moves on, just trying to get out of the situation.

Kisaki- Curses but tries to play it cool with you by shrugging it off and saying he's fine.

Hanma- Rubs his head and frowns before getting an idea. He puts his hand out, acting like he wants you to help him up. Only when you grab it he pulls you down onto him instead. There now you've seen each other fall.

Kazutora- Tries to hide behind his hair a bit, he's very embarrassed about this. Get's up quickly and tries to leave, probably avoids you for a bit after that.

Inui- Just gets up and walks up, he seems very calm about it on the outside but on the inside he's cursing his luck. Wonders if he can do something else to impress you later.

Koko- Wishes the floor would just swallow him up. His face goes bright red and he avoids making eye contact with you. He tries to talk to you after getting up, thinking of something interesting to say to get your mind off of what he just did.

Taiju- Get's annoyed for a sec but then acts like it didn't even happen. Very much a "you didn't see anything" attitude.

Izana- Frowns and asks you to help him up (he doesn't actually need help but figures he might as well take advantage of the situation by getting to hold your hand quickly). 

Kakucho- Panics! He starts doing press ups or sit ups because his brain just kinda short circuits when you're near. Then spends the rest of the night regretting it because he must've looked so weird. (He did but it was kinda cute too???)

Ran- Plays it so smoothly, immediately says he just "fell for you"

Rindou- Ends up getting into one of his weird poses (probably the splits) to show off to you. Basically tries to pretend he meant to do that all along.

Shion- Gets up and points at a completely different guy, making a comment about how funny it is that guy just fell over. Even though you literally just saw it was him and not some random guy????

Mochi- Brushes off then grumbles a quick greeting in your direction before walking off. He's very embarrassed, makes plans to get into a fight in front of you to show off later.

South- Turns to ask you if you just saw that, takes the direct approach with you. If you say yes then he tells you to forget about it.

Wakasa- Gets back up so quickly that for a moment you're not even sure it happened. Gives you a quick nod before walking off. He honestly doesn't care that much, everyone trips sometimes.

Benkei- Groans but then tells you that he's had much worse before. Asks if you wanna hear some of his old gang stories. 

Shinichiro- Looks you nervously "I meant to do that". Probably ends up using a pick up line on you but get's it wrong. "Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" "But you're the one who just fell?????"

[krenenbaker]

Trick or Treat~!

Pairing: Che'nya x Floyd (could be read platonically or romantically)

Summary: It's finally Halloween night, but Floyd is in a bit of a slump. However, the arrival of a curious companion may just make the Halloween party a bit more interesting for him.

Notes: This is my first attempt at something following a prompt - specifically, "Trick or Treat" for the 2023 TWST Rarepair Halloween event. I'm trying to get more comfortable/practiced with writing prose (which is why this wasn't posted on the 30th... oops), and only vaguely ended up following the prompt. I'm fairly happy with how this little piece turned out, though!

Tags: @dove-da-birb, @azulashengrottospiano, @inkybloom-luv, @eynnwwyjth, @officialdaydreamer00 (please let me know if you'd like to be included or excluded from future writing of mine, or only want to be included in specific types of creations)

Floyd wanted to take a break. 

It was Halloween, and all he had done the entire week was work, work, work. Getting costumes ready, decorating, helping with their dorm's presentation, plus cooking and serving at the Lounge, all on top of normal classes? 

Sure, it was fun, especially getting to show off Octavinelle's cool setup, and 'taking care of' those misbehaving visitors. But now? Everything felt draining and boring, and Floyd simply wanted to leave, which sucked because the actual Halloween party had just started!  

Maybe he should just ditch and go back to his dorm; being in a funk when everyone else is having fun around you is not enjoyable.  He slumped down on a bench and unwrapped a sweet he had picked up earlier, before wrapping it up again. Ugh, not even in the mood for that candy he wanted only a few minutes ago. 

As he shoved the sweet back into his pocket and was about to get up from the bench to leave, Floyd heard a rustle behind him. Someone was quietly humming, and… laughing? The sound gradually moved to his side, towards the empty side of the bench.  

“Trick or treat~”

Floyd turned to face the voice. "Listen, man, I'm not in the mood to—” he froze, staring at the figure beside him. “Hang on a second, where's your body!?"

A toothy smile came to the face of the head that currently floated beside Floyd. "Oh, it's here.... or maybe it's there." A pair of hands materialized on either side of this boy's head, followed by the rest of his body. 

“I'm just kidding. Mind if I take a seat? I’d like to rest up before I keep purrowling around and startling people.”

Floyd blinked, then raised an eyebrow. “Uh, go for it.” 

This guy was... weird, and it was hard to tell if he'd be annoying, or interesting. "You don't go here, do ya? At least, I’ve never seen you before. And you’re no ghost, either.”

The cat-like boy shook his head, his jewellery jingling softly. "I'm just passing through for the festivities and collecting treats. Scaring some people, too. That’s loads of fun. And it's always nice to see my friends let loose." 

Floyd had a vague memory surface. "Ohh... you must be that RSA boy who's friends with Sea Turtle and Goldfishie." 

"'Sea Turtle' and 'Goldfishie', hey? Those are good names for my green and red friends. Cats are known for liking fish." He leaned forward, his grin growing. “Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Floyd nodded, “Floyd Leech. It's nice to meet you, too.” He looked curiously at the boy beside him, taking in his shaggy hair, piercings, and impish smile.

"You're not what I expected.” Floyd smiled, "But you seem fun, Catfish. I didn't think Goldfishie would get along with someone so... interesting."

Che'nya's eyes lit up slightly. "Catfish? Heh heh heh, most people call me Che'nya, but I guess that works. And I’ve heard some… interesting stories about you, too."

He stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back with his arms behind his head as he sighed. "But yeah, I don't think Riddle could shake me if he tried." 

"I'm almost jealous." Floyd tipped his head slightly. "Most of the time, Goldfishie likes to swim away before I can play with him."

Che'nya laughed, "Well, if you're wondering, he 'swam off' that way." He pointed off to the side. “Just don’t be rough with him. I don’t like people mistreating my friends.”

Floyd looked off into the crowd where he had pointed, and let out a small laugh. “Alright, good to know. Maybe I’ll find him later, if I feel like it”, he smiled and sat back. “And Goldfishie’s stronger than he looks, but I guess you’d know that.”

Che’nya nodded, then leaned closer with a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know, I bet we could do something that would really surprise him.” 

Floyd turned slightly towards Che’nya, and flashed a smile. “Yeah, we probably could. I think we should talk more in the future, Catfish. You seem pretty fun.” 

Che’nya grinned, “You seem pretty fun, too.”

"Well,” he stretched his arms above his head. “I think I’m going to go and find some more treats… and play some more tricks tonight. I'll catch you around, Floyd." 

With a haunting giggle echoing in his ears, Floyd watched as the boy beside him faded into nothingness, just the same way he had arrived. 

What a weird guy.

Floyd unwrapped the candy he had pocketed earlier, then popped it into his mouth. Maybe this party was worth staying at after all.

[mauesartetc]

If y'all are hungry for a character design challenge, might I recommend the "ideas grid" section in "Fundamentals of Character Design"? (Seriously, read this book. It's GOOD.)

The book encourages the reader to choose some themes from the categories provided, but that seems a bit easy for my taste. I figure I'll just gravitate toward the design elements I'm already fond of, and where's the fun in that? Where's the challenge in doing something I've done a hundred times before?

Thus, I'm adding a component of randomization. I'll number the items in each list from 1 to 20 and use a random number generator to pick one from each (using the first selected number for the first category, the second number for the second category, and so on). Then I'll design a character based on the results, and so can you!

Category 1: Anatomy

Tall

Tiny

Muscular

Short

Angular

Soft

Broad

Adolescent

Square

Strong

Slim

Elderly

Athletic

Curvy

Infant

Petite

Elongated

Average

Round

Middle-aged

Category 2: Style

Colorful

Plain

Practical

Severe

Fashionable (the book had "stylish" here but I felt a stylish style would be too vague lol)

Minimalist

Eccentric

Vintage

Neat

Sporty

Mismatched

Alternative

Cozy

Outdated

Smart

Messy

Boring

Comfortable

Expensive

Simple

Category 3: Emotion

Cheerful

Afraid

Eager

Sad

Shy

Annoyed

Curious

Worried

Overjoyed

Awkward

Relaxed

Disgusted

Tired

Surprised

Wistful

Bored

Pitying (the book had "kind" here, but that's more a personality trait than it is an emotion. So I went with an emotion that would lead someone to acts of kindness.)

Awed

Excited

Furious

Category 4: Color

Warm

Dark

Vibrant

Pale

Cool

Autumnal

Contrasting

Nocturnal

Neutral

Deep

Faded

Tropical

Clashing

Pastel

Analogous

Bright

Natural

Monochrome

Neon

Light

Category 5: Role

Hero

Explorer

Learner

Entertainer

Guardian

Worker

Villain

Helper

Troublemaker

Fighter

Parent

Royalty

Henchman

Thinker

Wanderer

Rebel

Companion

Teacher

Trickster

Civilian

Category 6: Item

Book

Hat

Phone

Scarf

Weapon

Necklace

Cloak

Spectacles

Briefcase

Artifact

Torch

Coat

Spade

Rucksack

Cane

Key

Map

Belt

Glove

Earring

Category 7: Setting

Magical

Modern

Aquatic

Castle

Garden

Vehicle

Urban

Historical (might pull out the random date generator for this one)

Library

Spooky

Futuristic

Beach

School

Forest

Zoo

Shop

Dystopian

Street

Office

Mountain

Obviously these are just starting points and you don't have to include something from every category, though doing so in a natural, cohesive way would be an impressive flex of your design skills. Let me know which words y'all got, and if you design a character based on them, drop a link!

[laundrybiscuits]

“It’s happening,” crows Dustin. “Eddie, it’s happening, it’s happening, she said yes!”

Eddie blinks up at him from the blankets. “Is…this about your little girlfriend, Henderson?” Is there a school dance coming up or something? Wait, it’s the summer, school’s not happening.

In a just world, Eddie Munson would never have to think about high school again; in a just world, Dustin Henderson would not have woken him up by breaking into his trailer at ass o’clock in the morning.

“No, man, Erica! Erica Sinclair! She’s gonna run a My Little Pony game for us!”

“Okay.” Eddie turns over to bury his face in his pillow. “Lock up when you leave,” he says, muffled.

———

He honest-to-god thinks it’s just a weird dream for the next few days. He’s almost completely forgotten about it when Mike corners him at work.

“You have to make her stop,” Mike says.

“Okay, Wheeler, two things. First: who am I making stop what? Second: I’m not making anyone stop anything. Really not my style, and also, I don’t wanna get involved in whatever this is.”

“You’re already involved! We’re all involved! We’re all, like, liable.”

“Right.” Eddie wipes his hands on a rag and ambles over. “Kid, you have got to start giving me some context here. What are we talking about?”

Mike gives him just the absolute bitchiest eyeroll any human being has ever mustered in the history of the world, and sighs noisily. “Erica wants to run a stupid game, and Dustin keeps encouraging her. Tell Erica and Dustin that we play Dungeons and Dragons with like, cool monsters and shit. Not some stupid game about ponies. It’s not even D&D, it’s a whole new stupid system that she’s making us learn.”

“Oh, shit.” There’s—a few things to unpack in that little speech, but Eddie can’t help the delighted grin spreading over his face. “That’s for real? The pony game? Shit, this is going to be the best thing ever. What system is she planning to run the campaign in?”

“Oh my god,” says Mike, and storms out of the garage.

———

“GURPS: Generic Universal Role-Playing System,” announces Erica, slamming the books down on Steve’s kitchen table. “A flexible, multi-purpose, setting-agnostic system that can accommodate any conceivable type of story or play style. This is the future of role-playing games, not your broke-ass fantasy bullcrap.”

Eddie wonders how complicated it is to file paperwork for adoption.

“Some of us like D&D,” says Will.

“Yeah, we don’t want your stupid generic whatever. We’re not playing,” Mike snaps.

“That’s not what I said.” Will looks annoyed with Mike, which has been happening a lot lately. Eddie’s glad the kid seems to be growing more of a spine; you can’t just let your tragic heterosexual crushes walk all over you, but that’s the kind of lesson every young gay needs to learn the hard way. “I’m fine with trying something new. I’m just saying, the next campaign after this should be D&D.”

“Sure, what-ever, nerds,” drawls Erica. “We’ll see how you feel after you experience the magic of Ponyland.”

Lucas puts his face in his hands when she says the magic of Ponyland and lets out a pitiful groan.

“Whoo!” cheers Dustin. “Let’s get started!”

———

It takes them a solid two hours to make their characters. Even Eddie, who’s been vaguely aware of GURPS since it was released a couple years ago, is struggling a little to adapt. It’s just been a while since he played anything but D&D, but he’s enjoying the change of pace. He likes this kind of challenge; it’s like figuring out how to play a familiar song in an unfamiliar genre.

Erica is not especially patient with them, but she’s clearly done her prep work, so Eddie thinks they all manage to get through the character creation process more or less the way it’s supposed to be done.

Steve gets back from work right when they’re putting the finishing touches on their characters. The way he blinks all sweetly confused makes Eddie think that Dustin was definitely lying about having permission to play here, and also that Dustin probably has a very troubling stash of keys to all their homes squirreled away somewhere.

“If I may, Lady Sinclair, I’d like to humbly suggest a ten-minute break?” Eddie says, before Steve can decide whether or not to be mad about this whole thing.

“Sure, go ahead and rest up while you still can,” says Erica. “Steve, I hope you got good snacks around here.” She makes a beeline for the kitchen, and the boys trip over themselves to follow her.

“I would die for that child,” says Eddie.

Steve laughs, low and a little tired. “Yeah. Um, me too.”

“So, I’m gonna go ahead and guess that Henderson didn’t actually clear this with you?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure.” Steve runs a hand through his hair. “He might’ve said something last week? Sometimes when he’s on a tear, I just kinda let him talk.”

“Y’know, we’re at a pretty good stopping point for today, if you want us to clear out so you can get some rest.” Eddie can see the smudgy shadows under Steve’s eyes from halfway across the room.

“No, it’s fine.” Steve peels off his vest. He’s wearing an entire perfectly normal shirt underneath, so there’s no reason for Eddie to hastily avert his eyes like Steve’s doing a damn striptease. “I might go take a nap, though. Gonna trust you not to let them burn down the place, got it?”

Eddie does a silly little salute. “Aye aye, cap’n. No hint of flame shall breach these walls.”

Steve laughs again, a gravelly chuckle, and musses Eddie’s hair on his way to the stairs.

“Why do you have that dumb look on your face,” says Erica suspiciously, standing in the kitchen doorway and clutching the biggest bowl of ice cream Eddie’s seen in his life.

“What look, there’s no look,” says Eddie. “Let’s play some GURPS.”

Edit: now a complete fic on AO3!

[aoioozora]

Flight to Dreamland.

Part 1

Part 2

Character: Johnny Cage Content: fluff, sleep deprived fem!reader, cuddling, banter, slight sexual suggestion, sleeptalking. Photo credit: CVclaire Note: I'm new to the MK fandom and this is my first MK fanfic! I hope you enjoy <3

“What do you do when you can't fall asleep?”

Johnny blinked his sleepy eyes at you as he leaned against his open door. He let out a yawn and then a low grumble escaped his lips as he hung his head down lazily to process and ponder your question.

“Can't sleep?” he asked in a raspy voice, now forcing his eyes open to look at you.

You looked at him, waiting for an answer.

“Come in,” he opened the door further and moved out of the way as he violently yawned again.

You walked in, dragging your long blanket behind you and pulling it against yourself, almost feeling like a princess wearing a heavy cape. Johnny closed the door and immediately fell stomach down on his bed. You sat down on the edge and saw that his arm was stretched out parallel to your thigh, with his hand hanging limp over the edge. Even in the dark, you could see his muscles and you had to fight the urge to touch them.

“How to fall asleep… How to fall asleep…” he murmured, as if chanting. In the dim moonlight, you could vaguely see that his brows were furrowed.

“They say…” he started, “You gotta sit in another room and do stuff until you're tired.”

You hummed thoughtfully, “Well, for starters, I am in another room.”

“Since you're in my room, I deduce you want to do something with me,” he, now clearly wide awake, said in a teasing, suggestive tone.

You blushed at the suggestion. You felt movement on the bed, and heard the sheets rustle. Glancing behind you at his shadow, you saw that he was laying on his side, supporting his head up with his hand and arm.

“Not what you're thinking,” you said through grit teeth, trying to make yourself sound like you weren't affected by that suggestion.

You heard a scoff. The bed dipped slightly behind you and you heard him ask, his voice now slightly louder, coming from behind you, right next to your ear,

“How did you know what I was thinking?”

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sudden proximity. His breath tickled your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His voice, low, quiet, and intentionally seductive did not fail to send your heart on overdrive.

It came to your realization that you were alone in a room with a man- not just any man, no, no, but one who was charismatic and oozing with pure testosterone, no less, in the middle of the night.

You cursed yourself for choosing such a time to be so vulnerable around him.

There was a pause. While the quiet whisper of his words lingered in the cool night air, he waited for an answer, and you could almost hear him smirking. You sucked in a deep, sharp, annoyed breath.

Taking that for an answer, he said with a guffaw, “You have one hell of a dirty mind, sugar,” and made no conscious effort to move away from your ear.

“I do not!” You protested, unable to hear yourself over how loudly your blood was throbbing in your ears.

He laughed again, clearly amused by your annoyance. His laughter normally was loud and obnoxious (some haters would even go as far as to say that it sounded like nails on a chalkboard, which was not true), but was still oddly endearing. With you, all the time, it was just a quiet chuckle, sonorous and sweet. Every time he laughed in your presence, you felt like he became a little boy, which perfectly encapsulated his occasional childlikeness and childishness.

“Hey, are you mad at me?” he asked, trying poorly to stifle his laughter.

When he got a huff for a response, he put his arms around your waist and nuzzled his cheek against your neck. Although you were mildly upset by his teasing, you didn't oppose this action. The proximity now decided that making you tingly seemed fit.

“Come, lay down with me,” he invited, sounding apologetic, “With my superior singing skills, I'll have you packed and ready for dreamland in no time!”

This earned a giggle from you, and Johnny was relieved to hear it. He may have been an actor, but he could never act contrary to his own feelings. Besides that, he casually dabbled in singing, and you knew he sang extremely well.

As he pulled his arm away slightly to allow you to move, his fingers traced lightly against your shirt over your stomach, over your waist. This sent a strong flurry of butterflies and sparks flying and flitting all over the place in your body. You felt the air hitch in your throat, but you tried to play it cool.

You soon lay next to him on his bed which was meant to hold only one person. The space constraint had to push you closer to him, and he was more than happy to accommodate you by wrapping you in his large, muscular arms, closing further the already measly gap between you and him.

Your blanket was forlorn on the floor, but you completely forgot about it. With one of his arms still around your shoulders, Johnny kicked up his own blanket with his legs and brought it over both of your bodies.

The warmth of his body, and of the lingering warmth on his bed and on his blanket, made you feel like you were a lightly toasted marshmallow on an open fire. It was mighty cold outside, and the chilling breeze that blew in through the netted open windows seemed to go unnoticed.

After he had adjusted the blanket, he turned to look at you. “How do you feel, princess?” he asked with a little smile.

“Warm.” You shyly sunk your face under the blanket.

“Hey, I'm not going to send you to dreamland unless I see your face,” he said in a tone of mock sternness, “For security reasons, I need to know it's you, the real deal.”

You giggled. “What are you? Airport security?”

“Of course! I even had a small acting gig as a flight attendant once in my early days so I know what I'm doing.” he exclaimed softly, “I won't send you unless I see your lovely face.” His voice turned softer and he tugged the blanket down a little, simultaneously brushing the tips of his fingers against your cheek.

You looked at him, shy as can be and mustered a smile. Johnny let out a chuckle of approval and put his arm around you again, allowing his hand to make its way to your hair, tangling his fingers in them. You felt his hand gently pushing your head towards his chest, and you welcomed it. The tip of your nose touched his chest, right above his heart, and you could feel it faintly beating. You could smell the flowery lavender, possibly of detergent emanating from his night clothes, mixed with the earthy pine.

The smell, the warmth, and the man cuddling you, had lulled you to half-sleep already.

Noticing this, he whispered, “We shall now begin takeoff. Fasten your seat belts.”

In your half-sleep, you moved closer to him, obeying the instruction. Johnny would have combusted at your cuteness, but he held himself back. He was on an important mission.

He was glad that it was dark, because his own cheeks were starting to turn pink. Taking in a deep breath to compose himself, he started rubbing you back and singing softly,

“Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do. I'm half crazy, all for the love of you.”

There was no denying he felt exactly what the song said.

“It won't be a stylish marriage, I can't afford a carriage,”

To your half-conscious self, though his voice sounded slightly muddled, it was melodious as the voice of a nightingale; gentle and soothing like a loving touch, like gentle rain pattering against glass windows.

“But you'll look sweet upon the seat of a bicycle built for two.”

The short chorus of this ancient song was enough to lull you into complete sleep, and he soon found you softly snoring, your breath fanning against his chest. He sang the chorus a second time and gradually quieted as he reached the end, but continued rubbing your back.

He felt your body twitch slightly, and thought you were still awake, but upon closer inspection, you were indeed fast asleep.

“I must've put her on a rocket to dreamland. She reached there so fast.” he thought to himself with a smile.

“Johnny… Johnny…” he heard you murmur.

“Sleep talking?” he wondered.

“Yes papa?” he answered, biting his lip to keep himself from laughing.

You mumbled something under your breath. Not being able to hear you, he leaned closer, asking you to speak up.

You were quiet for a long time, but Johnny wasn't the one to give up. Hoping that you would repeat yourself, he stared at you, waiting.

“I love you…” came your faint whisper.

The womanizing Johnny was used to such words, be it from past lovers or from adoring fans, but the quiet voice, the quiet confession of the lady in his arms was enough to make a man of his caliber melt helplessly.

He wondered if you were dreaming about him, and was flattered to know that you liked- no, loved him enough to show up in your dreams.

“I love you too,” he answered, pressing his lips gently on your forehead.

He saw a faint smile on your face, and wondered if Dream Johnny did the same thing. If her interpretation of him was right, he could expect it.

“Sweet dreams, princess.” he finally said, now closing his own eyes.

End.

Part 2

[zmediaoutlet]

"So how was it?" Dean says.

Sam squints at him. Crazy-bright day, light reflecting off every car, bouncing back from the license plate frame on the Buick in front of them. "How was what?"

He gets a significant look but then there's a honk and Dean waves irritably at the guy behind them, moves forward a half car-length like that means something. Sam said they should've just taken 87 instead of the state highway, but apparently that wouldn't have been as good a drive, so here they are, bumper to bumper. Some accident they can't see up ahead.

"Dean," Sam says, when they're essentially parked again. "How was what?"

Dean stretches back, knees spread wide around the steering wheel. "Uh, let's see," he says, and sucks his lower lip like he's really thinking. "The tonsil hockey? The tongue tango? The vertical v-grab—"

"You're the worst," Sam says, loudly, and Dean grins whitely out at the traffic. Relaxed. Probably more relaxed now that Sam feels blood rising in his cheeks, like he really did something. The dick. They roll forward another few feet and Sam braces his elbow on the open window, looking out at the growing green, the budding trees. Springtime in upstate New York, not the worst it could be.

"Sarah seemed like she'd be good at it," Dean says. Sam rolls his eyes, smacks vaguely to his left, catches leather jacket. Dean swats his hand away. "Hey, that ain't a dig. I admire a chick who'll really go for it. And, buddy, the way she was looking at you."

Sometimes it's like he thinks Sam's blind. Like, the only reason is that he doesn't notice. He sucks the inside of his cheek, squints out at the random field out past the highway. Cows, in the distance. "She was good at it," he says, finally. Soft where it counted, confident in the way that a lot of gorgeous girls are. Curving into his body but not limp or just opening her mouth for it and waiting for him to be done. Her tongue tasted like earl grey tea. He can taste it now, and rubs his fingers over his mouth.

Dean's been quiet, letting off the brake and rolling forward a carlength at a time. "You want to…" he starts, but what goes there? They weren't going to stay. They never were. Even an extra day didn't make sense, because what was going to happen—Sam taking the open invite, letting himself try, knowing that in the motel across town Dean was cooling his heels with motel porn and a takeout pizza, waiting for Sam to shoot his load so they'd be ready to pack up and leave the state? No, that wasn't going to happen. Not fair to Sarah, no matter if Sam explained the score, and it wasn't fair to Sam, and it wasn't fair, either, to…

More honking, somewhere behind them. They check the rearview at the same time, annoyed, and Dean mutters, "Like that helps?"

Sam turns on his side of the bench, putting his back to the window. Dean glances at him and then looks back out at the cars, frowning. "What do you think I'm missing?" Sam says. "With this stuff. Perfume? Long hair?"

"Perfume I can do, but I draw the line at wearing a wig for you," Dean says. Sam huffs and Dean glances over at him again, smiling. Kind of smiling anyway. "Not trying to—to be weird about it, or pick a fight or anything, Sammy. I just know you wanted…" He shakes his head, slouches back on the bench with two fingers hooked low on the steering wheel. "I don't want you to be—missing anything. I know, we got a job, and it's important. I'm not, like, trying to get you to move into a two-bedroom in New Paltz. I just don't want you to hate this any more than you do already."

Traffic judders to a halt again. Sam nods, looks out at the blinding chrome. His eyes smart. He sniffs, and drags his hand over his face, and then leans over the bench seat and gets his hand on Dean's jaw and turns his face and kisses him. Dean's lips startle open and Sam closes his eyes and licks in, pressing deep, Dean's hand gripping his jacket and Dean's breath filling his mouth. Coffee, salt. Sam tips so his forehead's against Dean's, their noses brushing. "Don't worry about what I'm missing," Sam says.

Dean's knuckles against his chest. He breathes in, shaky.

Honking. Dean takes a quick deep breath and pulls back, doesn't look at Sam. Traffic opening maybe, a little, ahead. They slide forward a car-length and then another. "Might make it to Allentown before dark after all," he says. His ear's pink. Sam sits back into the corner of the bench and smiles at the side of his head. "Shut up," Dean says, and Sam smiles out the window instead, the grown-grass verge starting to blur as they pick up speed. He wasn't going to say a thing.

[midnight-rain-fics]

Delicate

{Mirrorball Part 2}

{Fandom: Grishaverse}

{Pairing: Kaz Brekker x fem! reader x Jesper Fahey}

Summary: After accidentally confessing her feelings for her best friend and her boss, Y/N chooses to get drunk rather than facing the consequences of her actions.

A/N: I wrote this instead of going to sleep, curtesy of ❣️anon because positive feedback is really the best motivation of all. Also “schat” is a nickname used in the story, it means darling or treasure in Dutch.

“Is it cool that I said all that?

Is it too soon to do this yet?

'Cause I know that it's delicate”

Jesper was never good at waiting. He never had the patience of sitting idly as the hands of the clock struck by absentmindedly.

Even now, as he sat on the sofa with Kaz and Matthias at the Slat, he couldn't help the constant tapping of his boot against the wooden floor.

Kaz released a long sigh, no doubt annoyed by Jesper, and craned his neck to look at the entrance of the Slat. His jaw ticked as there was still no sign of anyone entering.

"When did they say they will be back again?" Jesper asked Matthias, who was sitting on the lone chair opposite Kaz, a book in his hands.

"They didn't," Matthias said, without looking up from his book.

Jesper vaguely remembered Y/N gifting it to Matthias for his birthday. None of the crows had known Matthias's birthday, except Y/N.

She had organized a surprise dinner for him, baked him a cake and gotten him a gift. Matthias had been nearly brought to tears as he hugged her and thanked her profusely.

And all Y/N did was smile. That damned smile. Jesper thinks his heart might have stopped the day she first gave him that smile.

Y/N was his best friend, just as Kaz was, even if he refused to admit it. And Jesper, curse his bad luck, had fallen in love with them both.

And now there might be a chance they might love him back, considering Y/N's confession last night but he couldn't know for sure because after stealing his heart and his breath, Y/N had proceeded to run up to her room as if hounds were chasing her.

And then she had avoided both Kaz and him the next day, going as far as to go drinking with Nina, just to avoid facing the aftermath of her confession.

And now Jesper was waiting, something that he absolutely loathed, just so he could see her again. Just so he could tell her everything that he had been keeping to himself.

Jesper risked a glance at Kaz, and to his surprise, Kaz was already looking at him. Jesper’s heart thrummed erratically in his chest, matching the pace of his foot tapping on the floor.

Kaz’s cane rested against his calf, stopping his movements, the weight was a surprise but not unwelcome. It was Kaz’s way of grounding Jesper in the present.

“Calm down, she will be back soon” Kaz mumbled low enough so only Jesper could hear him.

Loud, obnoxious laughter filled the Slat as Nina and Y/N drunkenly stumbled in. Jesper, Kaz and Matthias stood up immediately as the two girls nearly knocked into a table as they made their way towards them.

Y/N’s feet were barefoot and Nina seemed to be carrying the boots that she had been previously wearing.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she caught sight of Jesper and Kaz and she rushed towards them, stopping in front of Jesper, “There’s my boys!”

Jeaper could only watch in amusement as Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, “I missed you, Jesper”

“I missed you too, love” Jesper chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled back a little and looked down at her, brushing some hair out of her face, “Let’s get you to bed, yeah? I think you’ve had too much fun without me”

But Y/N wasn’t listening to him anymore, her eyes had connected with Kaz’s over Jesper’s shoulder and she was too busy staring at him.

“I missed you too, Kaz” Y/N said, lips pulled into a pout as she carelessly reached a hand out before abruptly pulling it back. The pout was ever present as Y/N put her head on Jesper’s shoulder, eyes still on Kaz.

Jesper didn’t have to turn around to see that Kaz had grown tense, the air had started to thicken with something that always fizzled between them when they were all together.

Jesper didn’t even notice Matthias lead a drunk Nina out of the room as he picked up Y/N and made a beeline for the stairs, stopping only to hear the clacking of Kaz’s cane behind him as he stopped outside Y/N’s door.

He waited for Kaz to open the door and gently put Y/N on the bed. He took a seat beside her, taking off her jacket and fixing her shirt before tucking a blanket around her.

Jesper could feel Kaz’s heated gaze on them as he ran a hand through Y/N’s hair, calming her down slightly. Y/N groaned, rubbing a hand down her face.

"Why did you drink so much, Y/N?" Jesper whispered, Y/N’s head leaning on his shoulder as she snuggled into his side.

Kaz stood at Y/N’s desk, pretending to overlook something to avoid looking at Jesper and Y/N. It made his skin itch to see them together, to not….to not be with them.

Kaz knew what they both wanted, who they wanted. But could he really be that person? What could he give them that they couldn’t give each other? He would just be an unwelcome addition to what they were. Never fully there.

Even if he wanted to be.

"Because you both hate me now" Y/N mumbled, her voice heartbreakingly small, she fiddled with the buttons on Jesper’s waistcoat, "And so I had to get over you"

"And did you?" Kaz didn’t mean for his voice to come out as cold as it did but the warning glare from Jesper was enough to let him know his frustrations towards his own shortcomings had seeped into his tone.

"No" Y/N mumbled, gone was the joyous phase of her drunkness, replaced by melancholy shining in her eyes. She hiccuped, meeting Kaz’s eyes, "I like you both too much, it's a problem"

"Oh, Y/N,” Jesper’s heart broke at the words, he stroked her hair and pressed a kiss to her temple.

"It's not fair, I love you but you don't love me,” Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes but she refused to let them fall. She was a crow, damnit! She wasn’t going to let her feelings ruin her friendships.

She had fought too hard to get where she was, and even if her feelings were unrequited, she would not lose her family, the crows, over it.

But was it truly so terrible? To love someone and to be loved in return?

"And who told you that, Y/N?"

Y/N tilted her head, eyebrows furrowed in thought. Kaz took a step forward and sat on the edge of her bed, one hand gripping his cane and the other stretched on the bed, centimetres from Y/N's.

"Who told you that I don't hold any affection for you" Kaz’s rasp filled the silence of the room, his words heavy with unsaid words and unspoken confessions. His gaze flittered to Jeaper who was watching them with bated breath, "Either of you"

"Do you?" Jesper asked, he was terrified to hope that Kaz would reciprocate his feeling. Their feelings. Because hope was dangerous but hope was all he had.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't" 

And truly, what more could Kaz say? Here he was, despite knowing better, despite his instincts telling him to turn around and walk away, even if it hurts, here he stood.

Exposed for them to pick at as they liked, just because he could not bare to see the hurt in Jesper’s eyes or the disappointment on Y/N’s face.

"Oh" Y/N mumbled, eyes switching between Jeaper and Kaz before a small smile graced her lips and she settled back in her pillows, still snuggled in Jesper’s side.

"Yes, oh,” Kaz rolled his eyes but the fondness was clear as day as he tapped her blanket, just above her knee, with his gloved hand, "Now go to sleep"

"Will you both stay? Just until I fall asleep"

"Of course, love"

“If I must”

“I want you to, Kaz”

“Then I will stay. Now go to sleep, Y/N”

Despite going to bed at Saints knows what time, Y/N woke up early as she usually did. She begrudgingly got out of bed, and even as her head hurt and nausea crawled up her throat, she made her way to the kitchen, a blue shawl wrapped around her shoulders for warmth.

"Good morning, love" Jesper greeted cheerfully as Y/N slumped down on the chair beside him, "How are you feeling?"

Y/N let out a yawn and mumbled something that sounded unintelligible even to her own ears. Her sleep-lidded eyes closed as Y/N placed her head on the kitchen counter, the cool stone caressing her cheek pleasantly.

"What was that?"

"Only goats can understand that, Y/N" Kaz’s voice was softer than usual in the mornings and Y/N’s own heart hummed with joy at hearing it.

Mornings with Kaz and Jesper were sacred to Y/N, even before last night. They were the only ones awake at this hour, and she had a suspicion they had all adjusted their sleep patterns to wake up early just to have these first rays of the morning sun to themselves.

This moment in time existed for them alone; when Kaz’s cold exterior was chipped away to reveal a slightly less concrete armour and Jesper’s face relaxed in an easy smile, his presence filling the room with warmth.

This moment was hers. They were hers.

"I will get back to you with an answer within 5-7 business days, Jes" Y/N lifted her head, placing it on her palm and answered the boy sitting beside her.

She turned her gaze to meet bitter coffee-brown eyes staring at her, "Oh and screw you, Kaz"

"We aren't there yet, schat" Kaz’s lips pulled up in a slight smirk as he took a sip of his black coffee, which Y/N was sure contained more than 3 spoonfuls of sugar.

Who was he trying to fool with that black coffee? She had no idea.

Jesper choked on his food and Y/N patted his back, stealing a piece of toast off his plate with her other hand. Her head throbbed with the hangover that she was currently nursing.

Y/N turned her gaze away from a wide-eyed Jesper to a smug Kaz, her eyes narrowed in mock irritation, "I hate you"

"That's not what you said last night"

"Saints Kaz!" Y/N exclaimed, her eyes wide with incredulity as she hid her blushing face in her hands, "Why are you doing this today?"

"Because you have a hangover, Y/N" Jesper chuckled, pushing a plate of toast towards her and passing her the cup of coffee that Kaz had poured, just as she liked it.

“He is being mean today”

"He’s mean every day"

"What was that, Jes?”

"Nothing"

“That’s what I thought”

[akutasoda]

Can you do Chuuya and Dazai with a reader with a personality like Yae Miko?🥺

aren't you a tease?

synopsis - sometimes they truly did underestimate just how cunning you were

includes - dazai, chuuya

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, teasing, wc - 369

a/n: i hope you don't mind but i added some things to include her abilities as the ability if that makes sense

osamu dazai ★↷

↪dazai being dazai had firstly only taken you for looks. however he could vaguely pick up on your true nature beyond that but first impressions were wholly of your looks. but that didn't affect his overall impressions later on.

↪but getting to lnow you better he was first met with your cunning, seemingly mischievous side. he noticed your delight in teasing him and sometimes it did truly embarrass him. he would love how cunning you truly were unless it was something against him.

↪your intelligence was something he additionally loved. it seemed almost unmatched and overworldy, but in conclusion he saw it as something that could rival ranpo's and his or maybe even surpass. although he guessed that it was used as part of your cunning plans that you would always get away with.

↪as for your ability, he found it slightly terrifying. kitsune were often known for not only smarts but power and so he found it amazing yet would rather not be on the receiving end.

chuuya nakahara ★↷

↪if chuuya had to be honest, he did find you quite terrifying at first. but would quickly see you as annoying. he noticed how playful you tended to be, but it seemed almost sinister and that's what worried him for some reason.

↪but after spending more time with you, he saw you as less annoying and in a way did admire you in a few ways. your sense of cunning still scared him a few times considering how you always got away with it. and you often liked to trick him and successfully do so each time.

↪another way he admired you was through your seemingly unrivalled intelligence. that paired with how sinister you sometimes seemed almost to scary. but then again always felt a weird sense of pride when he saw you in action, almost never feeling bad for the person on the recieving end of your tatics and habits.

↪your ability fascinated him. he had only heard of kitsune in legends and your ability was pretty cool in honesty. it seemed to really tie your personality and whole being together. like it was all meticulously planned out.

[pursuitseternal]

“Mine for Eternity” ⚜️Chapter 5 of “A Night with the Ascendant”⚜️

Ascended Astarion x OC (Lumina) | E | 3.9K

🎨 by @nyx-knox

Summary: Lumina’s true nature won’t keep her enemy from picking a fight. Fortunately Brides aren’t without their Sires for long…

CW: Jealous female antagonist, Possessive Astarion, flashbacks to the Rite, mentions of Astarion’s past abuse, mentions of OC’s past abuse [there’s smut I swear], body worship, cunnilingus, possessive romantic missionary

Previous Ch | Ao3 link | Masterlist

“What… did you say?”

Lumina’s head spun, her world narrowing down to a single word as she was still in her restraints.

That word… Bride… it sliced into her, cutting through vague notions and guesses to pierce into her heart and soul.

Setting down the cup on the bedside, Morana glared and her tail twitched, irascible and annoyed. “Don’t play games with me. You won’t win. There is no one who has served Lord Astarion longer, no one who knows him better. I was there in the aftermath two centuries ago when the Netherbrain fell. I was his first spawn, at his side through… everything,” she hissed the final word.

Her dark eyes glinted with hatred; what once lingered beneath the surface of her cool exterior seethed over.

And it made Lumina nervous. Bride or not, she didn’t know any of her strengths, aside from also being able to daywalk. But her quick mind rattled down a list of things she should be strong enough to do…. Could she beat Morana in a fight? Perhaps if she were well fed. Maybe she could compel Morana? Unlikely. If only Astarion was here…

She thought of him, the feeling of his skin, the smell of his musk, the glint in his eyes and on his fangs…

A tremor raced down her spine. Something hard and magical.

Whatever it was. It wasn’t enough to save her. Lumina tugged at her bindings, feeling more like prey in this Tiefling’s presence than she ever did with their Master. Even the way her tail twitched was predatory, stalking closer and closer.

“It’s good he’s seeing fit to keep you chained in his bed. I would hate to think what might befall you if you crossed paths with any of the Spawn now… You would probably have a dozen sets of fangs in your flesh, just to catch a taste of the Master from your skin.”

“Don’t be disgusting,” Lumina barked, finally finding purchase to sit up on her heels. “You know that the Master does as he wills.”

The Master… the mere thought of Astarion seemed to tug some tether inside her. Like ripples in the water, it pulsed out from her mind.

And something… someone… pulsed in reply.

“And it seems all he’s doing is you,” Morana sneered, her pointed teeth glinting in the firelight. “It’s not fair to the rest of us.”

Lumina’s stomach churned. “No it’s not, but it’s not my fault, nor is it anything I have the power to fix…”

“A convenient excuse from the one who has gained… everything,” she snapped. Closing in, her tail wagged back and forth, predacious, assessing. “If I could kill you…”

“Mor…” that rich, honeyed voice purred, instantly sending shivers down Lumina’s spine. Astarion entered on silent feet, his brows canted, quizzical and amused as he assessed his oldest Spawn. “Tut, tut, you should know better by now not to be so insolent.” One long, elegant finger wagged in the air between them, and instantly the Tiefling cowed, horned head bowing, tail tucked between her legs.

Sufficiently pleased with her submission, he crossed to the bed, the chain on Lumina’s hands unlocking and falling useless with a mere brush of his touch. Astarion reached behind him, fetching the chalice of blood and offering it to Lumina. His Bride struggled to sit, trying to tuck her legs under her without exposing her naked lower half to both of their gazes.

“If there a reason you strayed up here, Morana?” Astarion’s question sliced through the heavy silence. “Need something… or did you just miss me?” He leveled a wicked glare at his Spawn, her dark blue skin turning to gooseflesh under his gaze.

Lumina’s stomach curled at the malice… even if it was protective. Protective of her. She busied herself from the awkward tension by burying her face in her cup. The second she smelled the liquid inside, her heart skipped an undead beat.

His. Again.

A flicker passed between them before she drank. That same rich rush of power, of his very essence and presence invaded her. From her stomach to her veins, he was inside her, and with that brief flash of fang-toothed smile, she suspected he felt it too.

“My lord,” Morana began to speak, “you should know your other devoted servants are…”

He leveled his gaze at her, waving his hand in dismissal. I have much more pressing matters. The rest of my children know that what I do for this city and my own needs come before any of theirs.”

Her tail twitched dangerously fast. “So you leave us locked away to wander your halls once the sun has set like prisoners?” Her nostrils flared, fists clenching at her side. “Like slaves…”

“Careful,” Astarion bit, instantly rigid at the single word. “You are far from being slaves. Even now, your so-called torment is a far cry from what I endured for centuries,” he snared, spit flying as he spoke forcefully and deep. His hands fisted at his side, long nails digging into his own flesh.

Morana just shook her head. “You’ve changed from those first days when I was your only Spawn. You were magnificent and ruthless and hungry. Your companions cowered at your Ascension. They wouldn’t recognize you now, this limp excuse for the Ascendant with his Bride in his bed and a dungeon of Spawn. Thank the gods they are all dead so they can’t see you become just like Caz—”

Astarion leapt to his feet, hand reaching for the Tiefling’s dark blue horn. “Silence!” he bellowed, yanking her roughly. “You dare speak of him? After all that you know and have seen?”

He was monstrous and feral, every muscle in his neck strained, the sinews of his hands popping against his pale skin and whitening his knuckles as he gripped his Spawn by the horn. Fangs glinted, eyes glowed scarlet, and down their bond, Lumina felt every bit of rage and bloodlust that coursed in his veins. Closing her eyes, Lumina pushed deeper, images flashing from his memory to hers.

She could see it all from two-hundred years ago…

Glowing scars on his back as fear gripped his heart, frozen by infernal magic by his old Master…. Faces in the distances of beloved friends fighting to free him until… She watched it all unfold. Some decrepit man lay at his feet, glowing red eyes glazed with fear and disbelief, black hair scraggled as his blood pooled over Astarion’s hands, a strange dagger clutched tightly. A matching set of ruins in his old Master’s back, and suddenly all she felt was the memory of her love’s victory, the thrill and relief and freedom that came as scarlet light bathed his world and infernal power burst through his body.

In a blink, the memory passed, but it was enough to push her own emotions back in reply.

She countered that blinding bloodlust with something she wondered if he would even recognize…

Pity.

Compassion.

Love.

His hand instantly eased, sending Morana flailing backwards, almost landing on her tail. “My lord,” she growled, her pointed teeth snapping as she collected herself.

“Leave me,” he hissed, turning his back on her abruptly. Head hanging, he even avoided Lumina’s look of concern.

But Morana only glared harder, tilting her head and aiming her dark glinting gaze right at where Lumina still perched on the bed.

“I said… leave!” he snarled, rounding once more, drawn to his full height and eyes blazing. Invisible tendrils of his influence crept up her spine. Her back stiffened visibly as he compelled her. “Leave, Morana. And tell the others they may venture into the city tonight, a special treat so long as they behave themselves.” I raised his finger, wagging it as he stared her down. “But not you. For your insolence, for dredging up memories that you have no right to, you will remain here in the palace.”

The Tiefling bowed her head slightly, her dark blue skin shining with sweat as she suppressed her anger. One last deadly glare at Lumina and she disappeared.

The moment the door shut, Astarion’s shoulders bowed under some great, invisible weight. His hands ran through those long, unruly curls, tugging them back from his gaunt face in desperation. Hands clasped together, he sat on the edge of the bed and leaned forward. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. Not yet. Not when he knew so much of who he once was had flooded from his mind into hers.

It was a strange mix of embarrassment, of vulnerability… and, if he was honest, relief. It helped not having to tell that tale again, not again after so much time, after all of his companions now mouldered in the ground. Gone to their gods.

He could feel her sharp gaze on his back, could sense her concern and curiosity wafting in waves from her heart down their bond. A bond she was now aware about, he realized. “So you know what you are?” His voice was heavy, amused and burdened in equal measure.

“Your Bride,” she whispered. “Morana told me,” Lumina dared to reply, creeping closer beside him. Her black tunic now pulled down over the little pert curve of her ass.

“Morana opens her mouth far too much, thinking that information and ambition carry greater value than… than feelings, than intimacy.” Astarion turned, wrinkles lining the corners of his eyes as he winced. It was a look that bespoke guilt, that signified he felt responsible for her ambitious desires.

Lumina scoffs, “Clearly she knows much about you from before…. You and your companions…”

He bristled, muscles straining in his neck as he craned forward. “What did you see?” His question was pointed, his tone tense.

Lumina closed her eyes, summoning the images and emotions from that fateful day. The day of his Ascension. “You felt so… free. So vindicated and avenged… I could taste blood in the air…”

“What did you see?” he repeated.

“Everything. Your companions, I saw them all as they fought to free you from your Master’s power. I know them from the pages of history, the Blade of Frontiers, the Wizard of Waterdeep, the Daughter of Darkness. They all cared… so much.”

A wave of grief down their bond stole her breath as he cradled her cheek and brought her closer. The contact made her eyes flash open. “What else?” he whispered more in her mind than outloud.

A shaky breath, she leaned into his palm. “I heard it all, the words of the Rite, the screams of the Spawn, the scent of your old Master’s blood…”

Images of that haunting face— of glowing eyes and cruel smiles and long black hair shook her to her core. The barest flicker of hatred filled her mind, and she could almost feel the blade of a knife carving the intricate lines and whorls in her own back as the memory barreled through her.

“Stop,” she sobbed, not even realizing the depth of suffering she had shouldered. Her red eyes looked into his, brimming with tears. “I… I can’t believe you suffered so much. No wonder you wanted to hear him scream and send his soul to eternal torment. He was… horrible to you. Wicked.”

Astarion smirked, trying to hide all that unsettled him behind that desirous mask. “Am I not a little bit of a wicked master to you, my Bride?”

Lumina shook her head. “Morana couldn’t be more wrong… you weren’t evil and blind for ambition. You were… afraid. You were denied blood and power for so long. You stared down total annihilation under the Absolute. One sacrifice, and you called down revenge on your Master, received power to destroy the army of your enemy and satisfy your hunger forever.” She met his intense gaze. “I would have done the same. I wish I still could…”

Eyes flickered down to her lips, then lower to the v cut of his shirt still on her body, resting finally where its hem stopped just at the top of her thighs. “That is why I made you mine, my Bride. You and I are not so different after all. Being with you makes… makes me feel that same belonging I once shared before all… this.” He gestured to the walls around him. “After my Ascension, no one understood. I was a monster in everyone’s eyes, power hungry and wicked. So a monster I became. That was the man Morana thought I was. Only a few of my old… companions still looked at me with the understanding of who I was and what I had endured.”

His thoughts wandered to places he had long thought buried, the rush of memories stopping his now beating heart.

The cool touch of a hand pulled him back to reality, her fingers stroked his cheek. And for the first time, she breathed his first name. No titles, no fawning. Just her light voice whispering, “Astarion.”

Not for centuries had he felt so vulnerable. But then again, not for centuries had he been this close to someone… someone he could call special.

Someone he could call his Bride.

As if hearing his thoughts, Lumina shifted closer. “What does that mean for me, now that I am a Bride?”

“Not just any Bride, my sweet,” he turns, the full intensity of his gaze boring into her. “My Bride, the Bride of the Vampire Ascendant.” He inhales her scent, a little hint of rosewater yet on her skin beneath the lingering musk of sex. “There is none like you, and there never will be again.”

Lumina grinned shyly to herself, glancing out the window into the night sky. “So, the strength, the heightened senses, the day walking… how else have you corrupted me?” she taunts him, a glowing light in her eyes.

“Corrupt? Tch, hardly darling.” His fingers press under her chin, drawing her closer and closer until she was lost in the crimson of his gaze and the warm wash of his breath. “You are beautiful, and you will be beautiful forever. You will be swifter, stronger, even more of force to be reckoned with,” his voice dripped with pride, tantalizingly sweet like spun sugar. “My heart beats in your breast, my blood flows in your very veins. I have remade you in my image and likeness.” That tender touch drew her lips to his, her skin warmed with the flush of his power and life from the blood she had drunk. “You were made to kneel in worship at my feet. Make no mistake,” he rasped, voice thickened with lust and something darker, “you are made to be my servant, and I…” He trailed off, angling back to lock her in his gaze, “I am now made to be yours.”

The mattress rose as he slid from it, his lean, corded body nestling between her thighs. He knelt for her, the Vampire Ascendant groveling at his Bride’s feet. Warm and reverent, his touch guided her to the edge of the bed, one hand pulling the black silk of his own stolen shirt from her lithe, pale torso. Hungry, possessive, his eyes locked on her pert breasts, the perfect height for him. A lick on his lips, and he leaned in, a thumb teasing one nipple to pebble-like hardness while his mouth sucked and swirled the other. “Mine,” he growled, the pink flesh of her nipple gently pinched between his teeth. “Mine for eternity,” another rumbling claim tickled her flesh before he sank his fangs deep into that sensitive mound.

A cry tore through her throat, lanced with pain at first, a sharpness that quickly melted as he suckled from her. His tongue worked the blood from the bite marks, his mouth devouring her nipple until it couldn’t harden more. Mewling, she clutched into the shoulder-length tendrils of his hair. Gathering them in her hands, she dared to do something, an impudent grin on her face…

…she yanked him off her by the hair. Blood trickled from the corner of his lips, a wild light in his eyes as he knelt between her thighs. “What do you wish for me to do, my lady?” he purred, supplication coloring each syllable.

Lumina’s gut dropped to her knees, his ruinous body pressed against her thighs and her cunt, his skilled, dexterous fingers teased the skin of her back in ways that stopped her undead heart. He was… hers—her Sire, and she was his Bride. “M-Master…” she stuttered, only to have the word stifled on the tip of her tongue by his lips.

“Right now, you are my Mistress, my Bride, and I am here to please,” the words are grounded out, thick with lust. The depth of his need for her smacks into her chest, a wave of pure desire down their bond. With the next breath, those lips and tongue dive for her cunt as he spreads her out. Wet slurps, husky growls, she can almost hear the sounds of his pleasure inside her chest. It’s all she can do to hold on to the long strands of his silver curls lest they be caught in the onslaught of his pleasure.

Pitiful and indulgent whines poured out of her throat. Her nails dig into his scalp, woven through his long thick curls. Scoring their touch up her thighs, his fingers dragged their heat higher until he gripped into her ass firmly, pulling her flush against his face as he ate. The bed beneath was soaked, spit and arousal dampening it. Ruining it. But Lumina only laughed, reveling in the mess he was making of her. Sweat gathered on her brow, her mouth watering and eyes tearing as her orgasm coiled in her belly.

“M…M… Mas…”

He pulled away, cum stuck in strands on his face as he bared his teeth. “Say it,” he ground out. “Say my name, not my title, Little Light.”

Her breasts heaved as she looked down at him, heart pounding against her ribs. “Astarion,” she breathed, his name a beautiful incantation on her lips.

He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, crawling to cover her on the bed with predatory grace, each movement of his arms, his legs, calculated to push her down and spread her open. “Say it again,” his voice scoring like gravel in his throat. “Say my name once more…”

Lumina bit her bottom lip, entranced as she watched one hand free his beautiful cock from the band of his trousers. She could feel the dark delight twisting his lips as he gave his length a few teasing, lazy pumps. Gripping her leg, he lifted it up, resting it on his shoulder, his cock gliding in effortlessly. Soaked for him, she sighed his name as he lowered his body, his mouth brushing hers with teasing kisses, coaxing the sounds and words from her mouth he so desired.

His name peeled out from her lips over and over again, the syllables of his name each filled with longing and devotion… with love. He would devour every sound she made, lips and tongue and fangs dancing with every movement of her mouth. He swallowed every sigh, consumed each moan. Gods, did he feel… alive. Bound to another soul in ways he had not felt for centuries.

Every undulation of his hips drew her closer, every rock of her body in his arms united them heart and soul until there would be no delineation. No separation.

Only her absorbed into his very being, and him lost in the depths of her love.

“Come for me, my Bride,” he gave a husky, low growl against her lips, her breath ragged as she struggled for air. “Tell me, show me how satisfied I make you feel…” One more thrust to bottom out inside her, and she screamed, her spine curling into his chest, her fangs sinking into her own lips with the force of her climax.

He wanted to fight the pull of his own orgasm, wanted to keep himself on the edge until he made her unravel over and over again, but she was too warm. Too tight.

Too all consuming as her walls fluttered and squeezed his cock.

A groan tore from his throat as he slammed into her, haphazardly and forceful. A swallowed snarl, and he spilled into her, shuddering as his cock twitched pump after pump of his cum until he was spent. Hungry, aching, he captured her bleeding lips, licking and suckling her essence as it welled from her wounds. “Perfect,” he crooned as he sucked, “you deserve every good thing I can grant you, my love. We’ll have a party, a ball, a grand affair to show the realms the woman at my side.” He pulled back, pinning that adoring and intense stare on her flushing face. Cheeks flushed from his blood in her belly, skin glistened with sweat and blood drops, all the marks of his possession. “The world will stir to behold your beauty.”

Lumina bit her swollen lip, eyes lowered in coyness. “My lord, I’m just an urchin… a servant and slave, I don’t need…”

Warm fingers clutched around her chin, his strength pinching her flesh as the force of his emotions flooded into her heart.

“Nonsense,” he purred, outwardly controlled as inwardly he bristled in annoyance at her lack of self worth. “You know my past now, you should know origins do not define greatness.” His gaze roamed over the gentle curves of her face and her bright, attentive eyes. “You are my Consort, my Queen, my Bride. All will hail you as such.”

One little blonde brow arched wryly. “Even Morana?” A tone of twisted delight, of victory, echoed in her words.

“Of course,” Astarion preened, thumb tracing the blush on her cheek. “So long as she is my Spawn, she will obey me. She can do you no harm, no matter what pretentious, ambitious drivel she spouts.”

Lumina fell into an uneasy silence as he pulled out from her, resting his head on the pillow of her breast. His voice became a drone in the background of her thoughts, his need to share every idea that crossed his mind about the details of her ball would not abate. He just wouldn’t stop discussing every little thought of his; for a man who proclaimed himself as a poor planner, he certainly held many varied opinions on food and decor and music and dress.

It was just din as her mind spun, meaningless words she nodded along to as her own thoughts consumed her. Thoughts she kept deep in her heart, in the shadows of her own past. She guarded them from him, those past visions of her own suffering and torture as a slave. Despite the warm, comforting weight of his body nestled on hers, the ghosts of lashings and burns, of cruel hands and lascivious patrons seemed to crawl over her flesh.

As Astarion nodded off into a peaceful trance in her arms, Lumina kept vigil, mulling over his past and hers.

She turned it over in her mind again and again… until she knew one more thing would need to be done for her to finally feel worthy of his love and the incomparable value he put on her worthless existence.

Same as him, she would find freedom, she would have blood…

Revenge, she could do.

A/N: Who hates Morana? And who thinks alumina is about to get into heaps of trouble?

Also, what kind of wife/bride would she be if she didn’t pretend to listen to her husband as he went on and on about something 😅

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

I once saw this meme of a petty plastic surgeon doing rituals so that his client didn't go to the plastic surgeon he has beef with-

Imagine Bonten witnessing Bonten executive reader doing a ritual so that her favorite client won't work with another lmao. With the pentagram, candles, and picture of the client.

AND IT SURPRISINGLY WORKED

Oh cool, this is how I think they would all react to that!

Mikey- No one can tell what he's thinking the first time he sees you doing it. He just walks over to you with a very blank expression, asks what you're doing then just nods and observes after you tell him. He gives 0 indication as to what he thinks about this. The only thing he does do is slightly frown at you having a picture of the client. After he finds out it worked, he still has no reaction. Just nods and moves on (you can't find the picture you had of the guy later though).

Sanzu- Offers to just kill the rival for you instead, he will happily take out whoever is bothering you. He doesn't understand why you're going to all this effort when murder is easier and more fun???? Will probably track down the rival and kill them for you later anyways. Once he finds out it worked, he nods taking note of your excitement. He thinks it's cool but still thinks his plan was better.

Kakucho- Thinks this is ridiculous but wants to be supportive so he goes along with it. Asks if he can help you in anyway and ends up grabbing some stuff for you. Watches you with a curious expression all throughout too. After he finds out it worked, he congratulates you but mentally he's questioning everything. Rituals work!???

Ran- You can't tell if he's actually into it or if he's just teasing you. But he acts very interested in this, also acts like he understands everything that you're doing. Says you need a back up in case the demons come for you but you're pretty sure that was just an excuse for him to flick salt at Sanzu to annoy him. After he finds out he worked, he nods like he knew it was going to work all along.

Rindou- Has a bet with Ran that it won't work. He is so sure that this will never work and tells you so (though will back off if it seems like his comments are upsetting you in anyway). Stares in shock after he finds out it worked and tells you to do it again so all of you can be sure. He's lowkey impressed by it though.

Mochi- Sighs when he finds out what you're doing, he doesn't really get it but it's something different so he's interested. Watches along with the others and rolls his eyes at their antics. Figures it's just a fluke that it worked but pats you on the back and congratulates you anyway.

Takeomi- Walks into the room, sees what everyone is doing and then walks back out again. Says he's too old for whatever this is.

Koko- Is a actually pretty interested that you believe in this stuff and vaguely wonders if you believe in fortunes too. He actually supports this and is curious as to if it will work, sets up his laptop nearby so he can work and keep an eye on you. His eyes widen when you confirm it worked but he's very interested now. Might even try his own little ritual later...

[shiyorin]

#Primarchs x reader but it is modern au

#Well, actually here are some drabbles I wrote for challenge modern au with my friends. I almost forgot I wrote it

#Romcom but actually one is a rom and one is a com.

#Menu: Sanguinius and Roboute Guilliman

Sanguinius

You sighed, gazing idly at the latest abstract sculptures on display. How you had been convinced to come to this event, you did not know. Curiosity, perhaps. Or a desire for something different, however fleeting.

You wandered from piece to piece, managing polite smiles and vague comments when addressed. The other patrons were a study in extravagance, jewel-toned gowns, colognes that announced wealth and status with every spray. You felt woefully out of place in your modest attire, there to observe from the sidelines.

Making to leave, you turned, and found yourself face to face with Sanguinius himself.

He smiled gently, warmly, in a manner that made your ensuing frown seem all the harsher. "I thought that might be you," he said. "I'm glad you decided to come."

What could you say? That you had no interest in his efforts, his wealth, his world of aesthetics and social climbing? Somehow you doubted even your harshest words could dampen that gentle smile.

Instead, you said. "The artwork is…interesting."

Sanguinius chuckled. "You despise it."

You clenched your jaw. Were you that transparent? But before you could retort, Sanguinius continued.

"That's alright. Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder, as they say." He held your gaze steadily, openly. "If you'll allow me, I think I see a kind of beauty in you that transcends all this."

You blinked, taken aback. This was not the response you had anticipated. Before you could gather your thoughts, Sanguinius bowed his head. "Forgive me. I overstep." And with that, he was gone, lost amidst the crowd.

You stood still for a long moment, pondering this strange encounter. A part of your wished to dismiss it, leave this foreign world behind once more. And yet, something intrigued you about him.

With a sigh, you left the gallery. But your thoughts lingered still on Sanguinius.

*****

Sanguinius sighed, staring out the window of his studio with unseeing eyes. His mind replayed the brief encounter with you at the gallery over and over, cataloging every awkward beat and missed opportunity.

"You despise it." He had said, and he had chuckled, played it cool. As if his heart wasn't pounding at finally being face to face with this enigmatic who held his thoughts captive.

He should have said something clever, charming. Asked your favorite flowers, favorite wine. Instead he offered vague platitudes and retreated like a coward, leaving you in there.

Sanguinius cringed. Had all those years playing the beloved artist prince addled his silver tongue beyond repair?

Pushing away from the window, he began to pace. He could have told you about the time he sprained his wrist painting your likeness from memory. Or how every sculpture he crafted seemed an effort to capture some fleeting trace of your grace. Or how -

"Ridiculous," he muttered to the empty room. You clearly wanted nothing to do with his affections. And well you should! What had he to offer beyond annoy you?

Still, the memory of your averted gaze and tightly crossed arms stung him.

"Next time," he vowed to the mirror, "Next time, I just need one more."

With a sigh, Sanguinius turned back to his workbench, and began to sketch. Ideas for new pieces taking shape, works that might one day, somehow, win the regard of your heart.

Roboute Guilliman

Guilliman jogged up the stairs to your loft, dread pooling in his gut. The half-coherent slurring over the phone signaled trouble, as usual. 

Upon entering, he sighed at the all-too-familiar sight awaiting - you sprawled gracelessly across the couch, bottle of vodka dangling precariously from limp fingers as you brow furrowed intensely at your laptop on the floor.

"What did we talk about this?" Guilliman sighed, bending to retrieve the laptop. He knew before even booting it up what he'd find. 

"I'm verrrrry fine and for sure not drunk!" You protested, flailing an arm wildly. "Why would I need to be drunk, nothing was wrrrong at all. The vodkaaaaa? Naw, that's just...that's just morrrrrral suppppppppport!" 

Guilliman pinched the bridge of his nose, opening the laptop. Yep, there was your popular anonymous venting forum, your anonymous profile clearly hammered as usual. 

"You need to stop getting on the internet when you're drunk, or stop getting drunk when you're on the internet," he lectured wearily. "Jeez, this is...ugh."

You barked a harsh laugh. "You're one to taaaaaaaalk! At leassssst I don't write angry tweets to Landlord Association Presidents about proper...proper ventilation codes when I'm trasheeeeeeed!" 

Guilliman flushed, fishing out his phone. Sure enough, several draft angry tweets awaited deletion in the morning. He coughed. "Regardless, you're dealing with the consequences of your actions this time." 

You groaned as he scrolled. "I say one little thing about Angron's anger issues suddenly meaning he can't handle a puppy and everyone loses their minds!" 

Guilliman read the fiery thread questioning Angron's prospective puppy adoption. Yikes. At least you hadn't doxxed anyone in your drunken ranting this time. Small miracles. 

"Lucky for you, I cleaned it up," he reassured, sparing your the drama. "Now, let's get you hydrated before round two of the vomiting begins."

You scowled but obediently sipped the electrolyte drink he handed your. "You're no fun, Roboute. How am I supposed to vent my frustrations creatively without liquid inspiration?" 

"You could try a journal, or healthy coping skills." he suggested blandly, though they both knew that was pointless. This was who you was - passionate, impulsive, and mysteriously charming even wasted. 

"Ugh, soooo boring. Maybe I'll just start an anonymous YouTube venting channel. What could go wrong?" You mused, raking a hand through tangled hair. 

Guilliman groaned. "Please don't give the internet any more of your drunken thoughts. For now, focus on keeping what's left of your dinner down and get some rest. I'll be here making sure you don't do anything too regrettable offline too."

You flipped him a rude gesture but burrowed underneath the blankets obediently. He chuckled, settling in for the long night watch as usual. Another crisis averted, for now at least. You sniffled miserably from beneath the blanket mound as Guilliman scrolled through the aftermath of your drunken posting. 

"Oh god, you thought about it, didn't you?" he sighed knowingly. Last year's intoxicated vent had sparked such a vicious flame war that his still shuddered at the memory. 

That seemed to be the tipping point as you burst into tears. "I'm trying to change, this shit, people from the outside don't get how much bullshit we gotta put up with, and if lucky hate it, and, and-" 

"Okay, alright, you need to sleep this off," Guilliman soothed, setting the laptop aside. "Come on, up you get."

But you only cried louder, curling in on yourself tighter. Guilliman sighed, recognizing the onset of a full-blown anxiety attack. 

"Look, you know why you're not supposed to use Twitter, yeah?" He asked gently. You nodded miserably into the couch. 

"Because I get like this."

Resigned to damage control, Guilliman retrieved the laptop once more. Glancing at your drunken thread, he frowned. "Ugh..."

You peeked out with red-rimmed eyes. "Is it that bad?"

Guilliman hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. The thread had devolved into the usual vitriol and trash talk, with more than a few personal insults directed at you yourself sprinkled in.

"Well...maybe we should ask Alpharius and Omegon to solve it." he suggested, only half joking. The twin did have an uncanny knack for scrubbing digital messes unseen. 

You hiccuped a watery giggle at the idea of unleashing the secret agents on your trolls. Your panic seemed to ease slightly.

Guilliman couldn't help a small smile in return before launching into maximum distraction mode. "Alright, you've had your fun crying for tonight. Now it's time to plot our revenge against the haters!"

You sniffled but nodded, anticipation gleaming through your swollen eyes. "What did you have in mind...?"

"Well first, we gather blackmail on the worst offenders..." Guilliman began deviously, launching into an absurdly convoluted revenge scheme. 

[nari-writes]

...........

The thing is, Tim doesn’t realise Kon doesn’t know his secret identity until Kon sighs, looks over at him longingly, and says, “Man. You’d be so good at this.”

“Good at what?” he asks, distracted by the plans he’s got spread out in front of him. Bruce wants an update on Lex’s new office, but Tim’s been trying to figure out why the old one has an extra hallway that seems to go nowhere. The last time Lex had a hallway that went ‘nowhere’, Tim and Bart had found a cloning lab.

“All the hero stuff, you know?” Kon says, and Tim blinks. He blinks again, trying to catch up while Kon keeps talking, “Like, you’re super smart, you’re super organised, and you’re totally obsessed with mysteries. You’d make a great Robin.”

“What?” Tim asks, feeling vaguely like he’s been shoved into a mirror dimension. But his undershirt is definitely half-hanging out of his laundry basket, and the R’s on the outside, so he can’t have been transported to an alternate dimension sometime within the last two minutes of conversation. Also, wait! he thinks to himself, he’s literally working on a plan to break into Lex’s building with Conner – why would he be doing that if he wasn’t-?

“Yeah!” Kon says, gaining enthusiasm at Tim’s bafflement, “Dude, you’re awesome. We could totally make a case. Where’s your computer? I bet I could get one of your powerpoints in front of Batman. Reasons why Tim Drake should be Robin, created by Superboy and validated by Young Justice.”

“Is it even my powerpoint if you’re going to take credit on making it?” Tim asks, and Kon waves off the question with one hand.

“Well, we can’t present a biased opinion,” Kon says, “and everyone in Gotham knows Robin’s the coolest, so if it was just from a civilian Batman may not take it seriously.”

Batman may not take it seriously, Tim’s brain repeats to itself, and then Tim has to stop himself from cracking up at the thought of Bruce sitting through a powerpoint on why his current Robin would make a ‘super cool’ Robin.

Presented by Superboy.

“Kon,” he says, unable to hide the laughter in his tone. Of course his friend is trying to joke - what other option is there? That Kon doesn't realise he's Robin? “What are you talking about? I can’t give Batman a presentation on why I should be Robin.”

Kon’s mouth twists in a mulish scowl. “Don’t,” he says, sounding more annoyed than Tim would’ve thought at such a joke, “You’re amazing, Tim. You would make an awesome Robin.”

“I know,” Tim says, and tries to ignore the flip in his stomach at how solemn Kon’s expression is, the way he’s serious about every word. It’s making his face feel hot, that Kon hasn’t immediately dropped the compliments, or paired them with an overly flirtatious wink. “Come on, dude, I get it. What bought this on?”

“It just- it’d be cool to hang out with you at the tower. Or do missions with you,” Kon mumbles and Tim stops entirely.

“Kon,” he says, because before it may have been a weird joke Kon was playing, some sort of ego-boost but he knows Kon well enough to read that expression, and- “Kon, I’m Robin. I can’t get Batman a presentation on why I deserve to have my own position.”

This time it’s Kon’s turn to look shell-shocked. “-what.”

“How did you not know?” Tim asks, feeling pained and also a little bit like a bad friend – had he inadvertently lied about something, made Kon think he and Robin were different people? Was he not clear enough when he’d introduced himself to Conner and Bart and Cassie, that weekend before Jason’s attack on the tower? Did Bart and Cassie also not know? Also, wait, back to his first thought of the day: “Why- why did you think I was helping you plan a break in to Lexcorp?”

“Lex sucks?” Kon says, the words an offering, and Tim squints at him.

“You think a normal civilian would help you commit crime?”

“What! How is this a crime?”

“This is literally breaking and entering! Technically, since I’m Bruce Wayne’s ward, it’d also be considered corporate sabotage.”

“It’s not a crime if the victim sucks,” Kon mutters bitterly, and Tim’s squint gets even more aggressive, brow furrowed.

“Kon. What was your explanation for how I knew you were Superboy?”

Kon shrugs, but his face has steadily been getting more and more closed off as his embarrassment deepens. “Dude, I said you were good at mysteries. I thought you just- figured it out. I wasn’t subtle the first time we met.”

“You didn’t have a name the first time we met!”

“What? Oh-” Kon says, “no, okay, the first time I met you as a civvy?”

"Huh?" Tim asks, and Kon cocks his head to the side.

"Yeah! Remember, it was the Mudders charity thing, and Superman and I volunteered in civvies but that girl got stuck in the mud pits so after I went to get her out you helped me hose off and said 'good job Superboy', and then I freaked out and you laughed at me."

"What," says Tim. He does remember that, but there's a key difference between his memory and Kon's- "you were in civvies?"

"Why did you think I kept showing up here as Superboy!" Kon says, this time his turn for exasperation.

"Because I told you my identity?!"

"You said your name was Alvin Draper! You wore contacts!"

"You have x-ray vision! I live with Batman!"

"Tim!" Kon yells, and it's not entirely angry but Kon's suddenly in his face, his hands wrapped around Tim's biceps. "Tim I didn't know! I just thought you were my cool civvy friend who figured out my identity while I was covered in mud and- and-"

Kon's suddenly beaming, and Tim has whiplash.

"Hi, Robin," Kon says, so soft that Tim's heart crawls up his throat with sticky fingers, his face burning. Is there a connection, between the blood rushing to his cheeks, and the migration of his pulse? He knows there's a connection between Kon's palms on his skin and the movement of his heart, at least, but this is-

"Yeah?" he says, and Kon's grin gets bigger.

"I am never ever letting you forget this."