#the way i approach fandom is that it's supposed to be fun

[ladygrey7]

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[miraculouslbcnreactions]

The fandom can't make up its mind on what's supposed to be a joke and what's supposed to be serious because the show can't either half the time. It's a tonally disjointed mess that wants to have absurd over-the-top humor as well as a plot and moments of drama, romance, and angst that demand you see the characters as people and feel for what they're going through. Except you can't do that without also treating the dumb bullshit in a somewhat grounded way. Like, you're still dealing with the same characters. You can't just go "Oh, that? Let's ignore that!" the moment it's no longer convenient to you. You've opened this can of worms and now you have to sleep in it. So, every character flip-flops between two different versions of themselves depending on what the writers need in any particular scene.

This is not to say surreal humor can't be used right alongside characters you're supposed to empathize with, Teen Titans (not Go) did that and it worked. It's just that the absurdity can only come from the setting (Mad Mod, Mother Mae-Eye, pretty much anything Control Freak is in) or from designated joke characters (Date With Destiny). Teen Titans never had the main characters acting in clearly absurd ways as the butt of a joke unless those characters were brainwashed somehow, because the writers knew that would ruin any of the more grounded moments they wanted to write. The writers of Miraculous missed the memo on that one.

I don't disagree. A perfect example is Derision where the show takes all of the bad jokes about Marinette's crush and decides to take them seriously as if you can possible take them seriously without making Marinette come across as unhinged and dangerous. You can't, which brings us to the topic at hand: how do you even begin to understand these characters when the show is constantly making character-breaking choices?

My approach - and the approach I recommend others take if they're going to keep watching the show - is to focus on the characters' cores and reject anything canon does to violate those cores. I don't argue for this stance because I love the characters so much that I only want the good things to count. I take this stance because, if you don't, then the characters fall apart. There is no way to make them work as fully realized characters while embracing every choice canon has made. Miraculous has massive characterization issues that go well beyond the humor.

For example, Adrien has multiple moments of terrible behavior that are played in a serious manner such as the moment in the episode Frozer where he tries to start a fight with Ladybug in the middle of an akuma attack because she wouldn't accept a rose from him earlier:

Setup

Ladybug: I can't accept this rose from you. I told you already. I'm in love with someone else. Cat Noir: I know, M'lady. But if he weren't here, would things be different between us? Ladybug: Well, you know, I can't even begin to imagine him not being here. I'm sorry, Cat Noir. I really gotta get going, and you better do the same. (Swings her yo-yo to head back home; Cat Noir is sad, looking downwards, with one petal of the rose falling.)

Payoff

Ladyice: Cat Noir. We need to set up a trap for whoever turned the city into a giant ice rink. (throws yo-yo) Icecat: (bitterly) My feline instincts prefer to track and observe before I attack. You go your way, I'll go mine. Ladyice: Please don't tell me you're mad at me about the rose. Icecat: There may be a certain chill now between us. Ladyice: I get it, but we should really focus on saving Paris right now. Icecat: We don't always have to do everything together, after all. It's not like we're a couple. (skates away)

There's no way to argue this off as a bad joke. While Adrien has every right to feel hurt, those feelings don't excuse him acting like a pouting child in the middle of an akuma fight. It doesn't excuse him acting like this at any point! Ladybug is not a villain for telling him no. She wasn't even mean about it!

I clearly fully agree that Adrien looks awful and selfish here, but I'd still argue that it's not something that should be used to define Adrien's character if your goal is to tell the "ideal" version of Miraculous. "Ideal" being the version that canon seems to be going for based on the overall picture we can sort of make out if we back way, way, way up and look at the extremely abstract picture canon is clumsily painting.

Unless canon is going to do something monumentally stupid, Adrien is Marinette's endgame romantic interest. It's also clear that there is no plan to cut him from the team. He's going to be Chat Noir for the rest of his life or at least well into his adulthood. This means that he is supposed to be a good hero who deserves his miraculous just like he's supposed to be a charming and cute romantic lead. These are the two things I keep in mind when trying to shift through canon to figure out what writing choices I should fully embrace and what writing choices I have to either ignore or treat as true flaws that get an actual character arc. In my book, either approach is fine because most of the characters are deeply flawed at this point and you can't give them all arcs without bloating the story to nonsense levels.

My goal with this approach is never to say, "oh, that moment shouldn't count in terms of how people feel about the character." It's more, "that moment goes so hard against who this character is very clearly supposed to be that I can't take it into account if I want to tell the kind of story that Miraculous is trying (and clearly failing) to tell."

As an example, let's list off Adrien's worst behaviors. The things that make him look terrible:

He sucks at communicating his needs and feelings, leading to multiple moments where he gets mad at Ladybug for things she's totally unaware of

He has quit or considered quitting without warning multiple times and only one of those was because of something he did "wrong" (NYC Special)

He puts his feelings before the safety of Paris on multiple occasions, even going so far to purposely miss akuma fights to see what happens

He is incredibly pushy about his crush, often ignoring Ladybug's feelings on the topic by continuing to bring it up even after she asked him to stop

There have been multiple instances where he almost cataclysmed multiple people in a fit of anger

His love for Ladynette isn't strong enough to let him break free of things like akumas and nightmare dust even when he's looking her in the eyes making him a pretty crappy romantic lead

People will argue that some of this behavior makes sense for his character because of the abuse that canon has technically introduced, but that the writers seem blissfully unaware of. I don't disagree with that argument, but that doesn't change the fact that none of this is acceptable behavior for a hero and Adrien is a hero who keeps doing these things. A sad backstory doesn't give you the right to behave poorly without consequences.

At the same time, if I fully embrace these elements of canon, what I get is an Adrien salt fic where he loses his miraculous for good while Marinette finds her real true love or even just a non-salty fic where Adrien leaves for his own meatal health and gets replaced by someone who can handle being a hero right now. Canon's not writing either of those, so the only way to engage with these flaws while enjoying canon or aiming for the same end goals as canon is to say, "I guess this doesn't count" or "I guess I need to tone this way down and work through it via a character arc" or even "I guess that was just a bad joke maybe?"

That is the essence of what I mean when I call myself a writing salt, character sugar blog. It comes from looking at canon and seeing that there's simply no way to embrace the worst moments and the best at the same time. We're not dealing with a coherent plot and/or complex characters. We're dealing with a nonsense plot that will warp the characters to bizarre shapes to make random ideas work even if those idea go wildly against canon's end goals.

As an example, Glaciator and Frozer should not exist in the same universe or, at the very least, something should explain why Chat Noir randomly changed his stance on Ladybug's crush from acceptance to pushiness. As is, the pieces don't fit together. The behavior is too contradictory. Remember, this is how Glaciator ends:

Perhaps Ladybug will love me someday. I mean, like, I love her. I have to believe. In the meantime, her friendship is the best gift of all.

Where did this version of Adrien go? Why did he regress in Frozer? There's no in-universe reason. It happened because the writers weren't ready to let the love square date or grow close, but they also wanted the love square to cause drama, so Adrien ends up looking terrible just like Marinette ends up looking terrible when it's her turn to cause love square drama. Her terribleness takes a different flavor so it can be hard to realize that this is a systemic issue, but that's what it is. It's deeply frustrating, but it also clearly stems from cheap writing and not quality characterization.

This is also why my stance is that canon as a whole only supports my Doyalistic core-character analysis style of approach. The writing is too poor quality to do Watsonian analysis where you embrace the full picture and try to put it all together. The closest I'll get to Watsonian analysis is pointing out how much the writing botches a Watsonian take by showing you all the way the writing contradicts itself, twisting into a nonsense pretzel of frustration where the payoffs never satisfy! (See the season four rant for an example or anything where I talked about Chloe's supposed damnation arc.)

There are even characters where canon is such a total mess that you can Doyalistically argue for two separate takes! Gabriel is a perfect example. He is all over the place and his ending was so poorly handled that you can make strong arguments for writing him as a cold-hearted villain or a sympathetic villain without the end result feeling like it spits in the face of canon because both takes maintain his one core element: villain.

That's the big thing I keep in mind when I look at the characters and the lore and the plots and try to come up with versions that the average fan would like. I don't think that there's one true version of any of these things, but I do feel comfortable saying that there are versions that will very clearly only appeal to people who are salty about a specific thing that canon did poorly. That's not who I want to appeal to in my adaptions, so while I'm not going to argue that those takes have no backing in canon, I will argue that those takes are not supported by canon as a whole. Embracing them requires you to take the worst parts of canon at face value while ignoring what canon is clearly trying to do with the overall story.

I get the appeal of that, but it's not fun for me because that approach feels like rolling around in the mud with the pigs. I don't want to sink to canon's level! I want to have fun! That's why I talk about how to make canon into its best self, not its worst self. If you want its worst self, just go watch the actual show. I will be shocked it if disappoints you.

[inthelittlewood]

Questions about Eyes And Ears AU

I had somebody ask for a brief interview regarding my storytelling for their university project and thought I'd lend a hand.

I thought those of you that follow the story might like the insight too, so here ya go:

When you first introduced the Listeners in Evo SMP, did you have a broader narrative or concept in mind, or were they more of an atmospheric element at that point?

The honest answer is that I didn't want to write too much about somebody else's character(s), that being Grian's Watchers. If I could write the conflict from the side of the Listeners then we could continue the narrative with a pre-designed opposing force but have them be relatively mute for the most part. Partly to build anticipation of when they might act or retaliate but it also worked for behind the scenes purposes too. If the series hadn't slowed/stopped as suddenly as it did, I definitely would have poked Grian to pick his brain about what story elements fit his original imagining of the Watchers. So it was mostly narrative reasoning but they also served a mechanical behind the scenes purpose of transporting us to a new area which was necessary due to bugs we'd encountered with world gen etc.

What inspired you to flesh out the Eyes and Ears AU more in recent years? Was that mostly a personal creative decision, or was it influenced by fan interest?

Honestly I hadn't premeditated too much their reintroduction into anything that I was working on. Sure I'd seen a little chattering here and there about the Watchers but I honestly just wanted to write an individual story beat (albeit a tropey one) of c!Martyn snapping and turning on Ren but that never came to fruition due to Scar taking us out. The plan was always to backstab Ren then say a cool line like "Red Winter is over, Red Spring has begun" or something else punny. Seeing the fevered reaction of the audience though gave me some confidence that I could try my hand at some layered or entirely post-production storytelling, so heading into Last Life I was all guns blazing.

The Eyes and Ears AU is quite open-ended — do you intentionally approach it with the idea of leaving narrative space for fan interpretation?

It really is right? Yes, it's a very mindful decision to leave it open-ended but not so much for the audience's benefit or interpretations, but to give myself creative freedom to take the story wherever I'd like to. Committing to too many power scale, multiverse or narrative shackles early can really strangle stories I've noticed (from reading comics and manga) meaning back pedalling or aggressive retcons are required to explore certain paths, which is rarely a good experience for the reader. I do enjoy their versatility and capability to be applied to any Minecraft or adjacent story too. Some might call it too broad, I call it malleable.

How do you feel about fans expanding the lore through headcanons and theories? Have any fan interpretations stood out or surprised you?

I think it's brilliant! People inundate my inbox on Tumblr seeking permission to write stories or create characters / AUs but I've literally no authority on that. I suppose it might be a different conversation if they were profiting off of those works, but 99% of people simply want to write for fun which I highly encourage!! I'll be honest that I haven't read a great deal of AUs or headcanons, my exposure to them is mostly via chat messages during lore talk streams or questions that come through regarding the Eyes And Ears AU. As a general rule I try to avoid reading too much of other people's works on the topic because I worry I'll accidentally regurgitate it in some way then stumble into plagiarism, you know? It's why I focus more on digesting stories outside the fandom whether it's manga, Sanderson books, reading old Japanese folk tales and the like. I can source inspiration from those on how to weave narrative and execute plot twists without having to glance in my front yard.

Has fan content (art, theories, animatics, etc.) ever influenced how you think about or approach the AU?

Oh for sure they have. It's literally why after every season we'll do a sit down stream and talk about the lore in detail. Figure out the puzzle and potential trip wires of plot points from the episodes and how we can neatly pack them into the pre-existing story. A lot of people wouldn't do that as they'd be precious about their work and believe their opinion is th only correct one, but I looooove soundboarding with the audience on it. I also take that mindset in game and sometimes think about the scenery of an impactful moment whenever I'm able to control / design it. I'll have little quips or quotes cooked in my mind for how I'd ideally deliver a blow or plot twist, buuuuut given the nature of the Life series you very rarely get to execute things how you'd like haha! I definitely wouldn't have done as many of the poems had their not been such a positive reaction to those. I often see individual lines or entire passages make their way into art pieces as typography or highlighted in animatics which is really gratifying. It's why I also put such an emphasis and priority on audio production in my editing. If I can craft something that feels atmospheric, driving and punctuating with music, staggering vocals or sound effects then the auditory portion is already done, they can focus solely on the visual aspect of things. I try and be as cinematic / TV like as my skillset allows for that reason.

You’ve mentioned trying not to fully canonise the AU, but still referencing it consistently — how do you balance telling your own story effectively, while trying not to involve other creators, particularly on the Life Series, when a lot of your time is spent in a group?

The easiest way to do this, is to not do it. For the most part the only storytelling done with the AU is done in post-production. I never name drop the Watchers or Listeners in world (believe me, I was as surprised as all of you when I saw that Secret Keeper statue in Secret Life!!) and in recent seasons they haven't even reared their head as an influence whatsoever. They're on holiday, they deserve it. But when they do whisper in my ear, they're motivated decisions that I would likely make as a player/character anyway because the win objective is always the thing I'm striving towards. I can just pepper angst around it to make things seem more manipulated rather than selfish ha. I think that's why the open ended nature of the Watchers has served me well because as much as they have a singular motive which is to feed on negative emotions, that can be achieved in so many ways ranging from bloodlust to deception, heartbreak to panic. It's versatile for storytelling. It can be in your face, or a slow burn.

What do the Watchers and Listeners represent to you, symbolically or narratively? Do they serve a specific function in the stories you tell?

The Watchers used to represent the audience when Grian first introduced them, but after departing EVO I've definitely breathed more of an egotistical and sinister air into them. They're very much a unique entity / faction now, they in some ways represent gluttony, selfishness and neglect in achieving their goals. The Listeners on the other hand, are a lot of the opposite traits, but I'm still wanting to explore how being the hard end of most conflicts can be dangerous. I want to explore that at some point, whether it be with infighting or failures. They shouldn't be seen as simply bad/good, they're just, different. It shouldn't be too hard navigating that nuance but I want it to reflect elements and motives that we find in our own lives.

[celtrist]

This was the piece that I had started before my extensive vacation (of coughing). Once again, Alastor is consistently the bane of my existence with his... well everything.

No matter! Anyway, this is something I like to call the Obsession AU. To sum it up real fast: Everyone is yandere for Alastor. I think it would just be apart of his punishment in Hell, being consistently forced into or desired in romantic/sex which he's never had much interest in. I would describe it as a dark comedy thing, but it can be as comedic or as dark as you want here. With that said, please be on guard with any mentions of darker content that treds towards a certain dead bird territory when I get a bit into how I imagine some of the characters. Again, it doesn't have to go that far if you're interested in this premise of an au and wanna focus on the more light hearted stuff, feel free.

This au is just poking a bit of fun at how everyone in the fandom wants to put Alastor in romantic situations constantly (whether it be with themselves or the other characters) despite Alastor probably being the least interested in the subject in the whole show. This is by no means a hate train or making fun of people who do enjoy shipping Alastor, it just more of a funny thing I think comes off as pretty ironic for his character and hopefully, others can enjoy that too. In this au he leans pretty much on the clear-cut side of aromantic and asexual with no interest in romantic affections at all. With that said, if you want to explore Alastor genuinely being interested in one of the other characters romantically or something similar, feel free to explore that! I can see some interesting dichotomies there. It's just within the actual "canon" of this au, he's not at all interested with that sort of thing. And just with a last final reminder to get into some character things I have in mind, some of the content mentioned does get pretty dark, particularly with Valentino but I don't think anyone's surprised there. But there might be some triggering content of the following mentioned here with characters but no crazy details really: Manipulation/Gaslighting, forced feminization, Non-con, Munchausen syndrome, Poisoning, Possessive, Drugging, Love bombing And I will be sure to give a quick warning to each character it might apply to, please feel free to let me know if I missed anything!

Rosie (Munchausen syndrome, Poisoning): Rosie has 100% poisoned Alastor before to make sure he relies on her. They started off as good friends but at some point Alastor began getting ill and Rosie offered to take care of him. This leads to Alastor staying in bed for full days, only really seeing Rosie who took care of his every need from food, clothing, washing, and so on. At some point, Alastor caught on that Rosie was putting something in his food to make him sick and he managed to escape with their friendship tarnished much to his dismay. He's often uneasy around Rosie but is upfront about his knowledge of Rosie's deeds. Rosie, in turn, acts like it is a lighthearted situation and often offers Alastor over for lunch, which he often denies. Any food he gets at his doorstep from a secret admirer or a lunchbox he finds at his seat in an overlord meeting goes straight into the trash. Alastor will still use Rosie's assets to his benefit of course, but is always careful as to what she might try to get in exchange. He has had more awkward lunches with her with his homemade meal versus the buffet she catered for the occasion, with the two gossiping like old times. Alastor is still uneasy during these times, but he also revels in the false pleasantries due to not having many others he's able to associate himself with due to the curse.

Lucifer (Controlling, Possessive, Manipulation): So I'm not 100% clear how I wanted to approach Lucifer. He and Charlie are probably the most similar I suppose? He wants Alastor as his queen (either alongside him and Lilith or only with him, he doesn't mind either way). He doesn't force him into dresses or anything, but Lucifer does consistently make doting moves and talks about how Alastor would make a good father to their children. Marriage is one of the mind and Lucifer probably gets a bit possessive with him. He also tries to guilt trip Alastor a lot, or manipulate situations in one of their arguments to get Alastor to say something he doesn't mean.

Charlie (Controlling, Possessive): Probably the most tame of everyone quite honestly. Charlie can be a bit controlling but does step off when Alastor expresses his dislike of her doing so, even if it takes a couple times. She likes doing things for him, is super affectionate, and daydreams about her, Vaggie, and Alastor all getting married. She can get pretty possessive with him, not being pleased when anybody does anything against Alastor's will or hurt him. The only exception to this rule is Vaggie, to which Charlie sees it like two cats getting along and finds it very endearing.

Vaggie (Forced Feminization, Controlling, Murder): Depending on how you look at it, Vaggie's one of the more fucked up obsessions or one of the more funnier ones. Because she's automatically inclined to like Alastor quite a bit with the curse thing but her personality doesn't jive with his for her own taste (in terms of their first meeting), she both hates and loves the guy. She's obsessed with trying to murder Alastor with traps around the hotel or outright standing over him with her spear. The hatred comes primarily from not wanting to feel the way she does about him, I guess like a fucked up tsundere if you wanna go that route. At the same token, however, she does want Alastor to be involved with both her and Charlie romantically. There's just one little problem: Vaggie has about the same amount of interest in men as she does in canon. So to sort of "fix" Alastor, she consistently tries to force him to be more feminine in clothing, offering different feminine names, and even trying to force him to get a sex change. Alastor is pretty slippery though, so it never quite works out in Vaggie's favor aside from the occasional dress or skirt being worn, which solidifies her attraction to him. Then he takes it off and looks more like a man again, and it solidifies her frustration/hatred for him.

Angel Dust (Drugging): To start, while I think Angel would love to have sex with Alastor, he 100% would not force it. Wouldn't even do touches or anything. Potentially he could just like as a coping (to be in a situation where HE'S the one in control), but that is a darker route that I don't think will be exactly true for this AU. However, he very much enjoys drugging Alastor similar to Rosie. Not only just as a bonding thing since Angel would also do the drugs WITH him, but just to get the not-quite-lucid compliments from Alastor and maybe a snuggle then and there. He wants to dote on Alastor with him drugged out in his bed saying nice things to Angel. Admittedly this one's a bit of a workshop as I just knew I didn't want Angel to be focused on sex like somebody, but wasn't sure what to do here.

Valentino(Non-con, LoveBombing): I mean... it is Valentino, what did you THINK he'd be trying to do with Alastor? There's really not much to say here, Valentino essentially tries pulling all the stops trying to get Alastor in bed while also love-bombing the hell out of him. Which really doesn't work. Valentino is pretty open with sharing Alastor, but again, does this surprise anyone? As long as he's participating in some way, he really doesn't mind.

Vox (ALL warnings): Pretty much the worst version of himself that people make him be sometimes for those darker stories in the fandom. While more interested in having an enthusiastic partner, I don't think Vox would be opposed to forcing himself onto Alastor. He consistently tries to manipulate and gaslight, while enjoying both the suffering and pleasure of Alastor. Much like Vaggie, Vox is obsessed both being in love with Alastor while also downright hating him to the core. He's possessive and likes the idea of being both sweet and heinous with Alastor. He pretty much is every other character wrapped up in one fucked up TV man. Vox acts the most well-adjusted of the characters here, but he's probably got the obsession the worst.

And of course, pretty much every other conceivable ship is up for grabs here. I did think about maybe unfallen angels are able to resist the obsession curse, which would possibly make a funny team-up of Alastor, Adam, Lute, and Emily. Alternatively, I thought maybe the other canonically asexual characters in the show wouldn't be affected instead, meaning another oddball team-up of Alastor, Octavia, and Mammon. Then there is of course the "nope, there's no escape for deer man". Not sure yet, maybe I'll workshop it. I have more normal things in the works rather than this messed up little au, but darker content is a guilty pleasure of mine.

[lxkeee]

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

-PART FOUR

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: Angst (for now)

Warnings: Daddy issues.

Notes: this is a long one, 3k ish words lol.

PART THREE | PART FIVE | NAVIGATION

A month before the extermination happens, Charlie Morningstar, the princess of hell was sighing by the railings of the second floor balcony and overlooking the lobby of the hotel. So many things inside her mind, so many problems that she's not sure what to act on first. Her girlfriend is a former exorcist but she and Vaggie already talked it out so I guess that's one problem out of the way, Adam is bringing an entire legion of exorcists and they will be coming for her hotel first, and she has a half angel brother who seems to not like her!

Charlie sighed, running her hands through her scalp, feeling the strands of her blonde locks with her fingertips.

She stared at the balcony by the hallway of the second floor of the hotel, seeing the others renovate the hotel so that it'll be fit for battle. Charlie leans on the railings, looking down as they work. Unaware that Vaggie was approaching her from behind.

“So, when are you going to tell your dad?” Vaggie asked, making the blonde haired girl jump in surprise, “Ah fuck! You scared me...” Charlie says, placing a hand over her fast beating heart—from the surprise.

Vaggie muttered a quick apology and stood next to her, Charlie sighs.

“I don't know Vaggie, I still can't wrap my head around the knowledge that... I have a half angel brother in heaven.” Charlie says softly, eyes downcast and her shoulders hunched. Vaggie's eyes softened, placing a hand on her girlfriend's shoulder.

“Dad didn't even tell me about it. Does this mean he had another wife aside from mom?” Charlie says sadly, starting to wonder if her dad cheated. The question is on who? Who's the first wife? She shakes her head, guilty for thinking that way about her own father.

Charlie can still recall how the older boy that was supposed to be her brother looked at her with such hostility in his [e/c] eyes despite the smile on his face, the tinge of sarcasm hidden by the gentleness of his voice as he spoke to her and Emily. It was unnerving to see such facial expressions on someone who is carrying the face of their father and it was directed at her.

“I am sure your dad had a reason why he didn't tell you, he probably didn't know.” Vaggie muttered softly beside her. Charlie sighs and nodded. Perhaps Vaggie is right, she needed to speak to her father to know the truth.

Charlie's eyes landed on Husk and Angel Dust who are busy hammering extra wood to the walls, the two men seem to be getting closer these days. It puts a smile on the girl's face.

“He probably does.” Charlie says with a forced smile, finally looking at Vaggie. “I'll go and speak to him about this, I want to tell him or hear him speak the truth.” she says softly, rubbing her hands together nervously at the thought of confronting her father.

Vaggie smiled at her, proud that her girlfriend is determined despite being so nervous about it. Vaggie patted the girl's shoulder comfortingly, “I am sure that it'll go well babe.” she says and Charlie nodded, “I hope so.”

Lucifer expected to have a fun father-daughter hangout when Charlie called him that morning telling him that she'll be visiting as she wanted to talk to him. What he didn't expect to see such a worried look on his daughter's face, slight bags underneath her eyes when he opened the door to the palace for her.

His father's instinct immediately kicked in as he sensed that something was bothering or worrying her.

The grin on his face lowered as he gently placed a hand over the girl's shoulder, ushering her inside the palace. They walked the hallways of their home, towards the living room where the father and daughter sat down on the couch. “Charlie, sweetheart. It seems like there's a lot on your mind right now. Do you want to talk about it...?” Lucifer asked softly before clearing his throat, laughing awkwardly. Of course she wants to talk about it, she really called you that she'll be visiting as she wanted to tell him something!

“I mean, hahaha of course you want to talk about it that's why you visited.” he says awkwardly in-between chuckles and Charlie just smiled, a small chuckle escaping her lips before letting out a tired sigh.

Lucifer's chuckles die down as his eyes soften as he looks at his daughter, he wonders how her meeting with heaven went. Did she meet the seven virtues? Or did she meet with Sera?

To this day, Lucifer still doesn't know who the seventh virtue is as the last time he had a meeting with them, they were absent—had some important matters to deal with on earth at that time, he does know the angel goes by the name Raphael. He hopes that it was Sera, despite knowing the said woman is... Eh... Still a bad choice but might as well choose the lesser evil or strict.

“Dad..?” Charlie softly calls out to him, avoiding his gaze. Lucifer's thoughts were cut off as he heard his daughter's voice call out to him, “Yes...?” he spoke softly.

Charlie took a deep breath, mentally preparing for this conversation. It's now or never.

“Dad, do I have a brother?” Charlie asked softly, voice shaking slightly.

That single question made his ears ring, countless thoughts running on his mind. A brother? What did she mean by that? He thought, nervous.

He looked at Charlie in confusion, clearly not knowing what she was talking about, “I'm sorry, what? What do you mean Charlie?” he asked softly and worriedly, his first thought is that his twin brother might've gotten married and had a son without him knowing and since he and Michael share the same face, he assumes Charlie met Michael's son or something.

Charlie looked at him, genuinely surprised that her father doesn't seem to know what she was talking about. Her dad doesn't know.

“I met someone up there dad, he told me he was my half sibling and told me we shared the same father. If only you could see the coldness in his eyes dad, how his eyes got colder when he talked about you.” Charlie says softly, squeezing her hands tightly. Her body trembling slightly in frustration.

Lucifer's eyes widened in revelation, his heart thumping against his ribcage like a drum. It can't be... He thought to himself, his hand moving towards his lips in disbelief.

Don't tell me I left [y/n] while she was pregnant. I didn't even know she was pregnant!

He thought in horror, his skin turning paler at the thought. [Y/n], his first wife, his first love. He abandoned her for Lilith. He wonders if she was planning on telling him but didn't as he barely went home to her as he spent most of his time at the Garden of Eden.

Guilt. So much guilt.

After his fall he didn't stop thinking about her, regretting the choices he had made. Ending up burying his affections for his first wife as he knows he will be no longer seeing her again. Despite marrying Lilith, having Charlie, somewhere deep in his heart lies the love he still has for [y/n] that he chose to extinguish but very stubborn for him to kill the passionate fire for her.

Remembering her name is enough for tears to trickle down his cheeks, the teardrop passing by the red circles of his cheek.

Charlie looked at her father worriedly, he was silent for a few minutes and suddenly tears were streaming down his face.

“Dad...? Are you okay...?” she asked softly and worriedly, taking out her handkerchief from her breast pocket and wiped her father's tears away. This single act made Lucifer remember something, a distant memory when he was still in heaven.

“Do not cry my beloved, you know the elders are just like that. They are too closed minded to listen to new ideas, too scared to listen to your wonderful and beautiful ideas for creation.” [y/n]'s cooed softly at him, hand holding a handkerchief as she wiped his tears away after getting scolded by the elders. He was sobbing on her shoulders, upset about what happened but his wife is there, his wonderful wife always ready to comfort him.

“Promise that you won't leave me okay?” he asked in-between sniffles and [y/n] smiles and placed a kiss on his forehead, “I promise. You better promise to not abandon me too.” she says with a giggle and he nodded, locking their pinkies together in a promise, the wedding ring on their ring fingers shimmering against the radiant rays of the sun.

He broke that promise. He left her, he left her alone with their son.

That made more tears stream down on his cheeks, Charlie trying to calm him down and Lucifer sniffled and muttered a small thanks to her, opting to take the handkerchief and wipe his own tears away.

“No, but I will be.” he said, his voice raspy. He avoided his daughter's eyes, too embarrassed and guilty to look at her. “Did he tell you his name...?” he asked weakly and Charlie nodded, “Xavier Caeles.” she answered softly and his heart broke even more. Why wouldn't it? The last name is something he recognized, it's his first wife's last name. Caeles, which means heaven.

A single teardrop runs down his cheek. A smile filled with guilt was plastered on his beautiful face.

The realization that he was never there for his son, their son all throughout his life. Filled him with unimaginable guilt. He was never there for [y/n] nor there for his son, Xavier. What does he look like? Does he have the same features as him or is he a perfect combination between him and [y/n]?

Forget it, he hopes his son has [y/n]'s face, just imagining the pain the boy goes through every time he looks at a mirror and sees his face. Somewhere in Lucifer's heart knows that the boy, probably hates himself. He hopes he is wrong.

With a shaky breath, he gave Charlie a weak smile, “Xavier huh?” he says with a pained chuckle. His red orbs are downcast, filled with guilt. He doesn't even know the boy as he's absent from his life, [y/n] had to raise him alone and it's her first time being a mother too. He should've been there, he should've listened and stopped being so selfish and stubborn.

Charlie looks at him worriedly, placing a hand over his shoulder for comfort. “I hope you won't get offended by this dad but did you... Cheat on mom...?” she asked softly, he shook his head no.

“No... I didn't, not on your mother but... Your mother isn't my first wife...” he says softly, ashamed in admitting it. He didn't cheat on Lilith, he cheated on [y/n] with Lilith. He was such a fool. “I cheated on my first wife with your mother...” he says, voice cracking, “My actions cannot be excused but it is something I deeply regret and still do.” he added, wiping his tears away.

The gears on Charlie's head started moving, processing his words. Her dad married someone before her mom.

“... Why...?” she asks softly, squeezing his hands, Lucifer avoiding his daughter's eyes, “Your mother is such an amazing woman and I couldn't help but be mesmerized by her and in return, my feelings for my first wife were overshadowed by it.” he explained softly, guilt evident on his voice. His voice cracking, almost a whisper.

Charlie's eyes softened, her thumbs rubbing circles on her father's hand, “Do... Do you still love her...?” she asked softly.

Yes, he still does. He misses her every single day, a ghost of his past that is constantly haunting him, haunting him of his wrong choices in life.

With choked sobs, Lucifer nodded, “Yes, I still do...” he admits softly and Charlie smiles, even though it hurts to see her family split, she can move on. Her mother has already left and Charlie believes that her father deserves a second chance and she wishes that Xavier would get a second chance at happiness.

“I hope you'll get a chance to make things right, dad. You owe it to him, to them.” Charlie says softly, hugging the crying man.

“I hope I'll get that chance, Charlie... I owe it to them.” Lucifer whispers softly. Clenching his fists that he placed on his lap.

Xavier waited patiently for his mother to wake up, his mom just returned from work yesterday and is currently resting. He would've shared the tea with her if he didn't know any better but since he knows how tiring work in the human world is, he decided to let his mother rest. He doesn't want to add more to her plate.

Xavier took it upon himself to prepare breakfast, cooking some waffles and bacon for him and his mother.

Brewing her some coffee, he knows she loves it when he makes her coffee. Grabbing two white mugs to prepare the espresso shots, steaming some milk while he's at it too.

Finally done, he prepares the table, grabbing the white ceramic plates with gold accents and the spoon and fork made of gold. Arranging them on the table.

Now he waits.

[Y/n] soon emerged from the door to the dining room, already dressed up for the day. A flowy pastel purple dress that reaches her knees, her hair nearly brushed and styled.

Xavier got up from his seat on the table and approached his mother, giving the older woman a kiss on the cheek. “Good morning mother, I hope you were able to rest well last night.” he says softly and [y/n] giggles and places a gentle kiss on her son's forehead.

“I did my sweet sunshine,” she says with a smile, her eyes sparkling in happiness as she finally notices the breakfast that was already displayed on the dining table.

“Oh my! You already made breakfast? How sweet, thank you my sunshine.” she says with a small smile, her voice soft as she gently ruffles the boy's hair.

The mother and son duo sat across each other on the dining table, enjoying the dinner that Xavier had prepared.

Xavier was nervous, unsure how to talk about what happened a few days ago.

[Y/n] being a mother she is, sensed that something is bothering her son. Gently placing down the golden utensils onto the plate, the golden utensils making small clinking sounds as she did so. Lifting her head up away from the plate, she looked at Xavier worriedly.

“Is there something worrying you, my dear?” she asked softly and worriedly and Xavier sighed and nodded.

With a deep breath, he calms down his fast racing heart. “A few days ago... I met... Lucifer's... Daughter...” he says with a small whisper.

[Y/n] freezes up, it's been awhile since she last heard that name, the very man that kept haunting her, the man she kept looking for at every person she meets. Even after all these years, she never forgot him nor stopped loving him, despite the pain he has given her.

With a forced smile, she looked at Xavier, “Really? As expected.” she says softly with a smile but Xavier can see the pain in her eyes, it breaks his heart every time.

“You still love him, don't you...?” he asked her softly, already knowing the answer as she told him the answer before. Though, he doesn't know the reason why his mother never moved on.

“You already know but yes, yes I still do.” she says softly, her voice cracking. Xavier's eyes softened, placing down his own golden utensils onto his plate, the utensils clinking against the ceramic, the sound echoing off the white walls of the mansion that they call home.

“But why mother? Forgive me for being too forward but why do you keep holding on to him knowing how much pain he gives you unknowingly?” he asked softly, his voice cracking in emotions, desperate to know the reason why his mother loved the man so much.

[Y/n] took a deep breath, looking at his son's eyes, she has one reason why and she thinks it's time for him to know.

“Because my love for him is unconditional. Even though he broke my heart, I'll still love him because my heart is only his to break which is pathetic. My love for your father is never conditional, he could be off being happy to an another woman and I'll still love him, even if it hurts.” she explained softly and sadly and Xavier's heart breaks listening to her explanation, to her reason.

Despite him hating his father, hating his appearance. He yearns for fatherly love, he yearns for a complete family and he envies Charlie for having something that he wants to experience.

“Is that really your reason, mother?” he asked softly and she nodded, “I still love him, Xavier... I still really do.” she whispers softly.

“I understand, mother... Thank you for telling me.” he says in a whisper and [y/n] smiled weakly at him, “I am sorry for not being enough, I know that you yearn for a complete family and I wish I could provide you that but my commitment to your father is unchanging.” she says, ashamed.

She really wished that her stupid heart would stop loving the man who abandoned her and their son but it is too stubborn to let go. She tried therapy, she tried look for someone new and it all failed.

Lucifer held such a tight grip on her heart and just like she said, he can continue to break her heart and she won't stop loving him. But even so, she doesn't know how she'll react if she ever sees him again. Will she be scared? Will she have another panic attack in seeing him again? Will she freeze on the spot? Or will she run into his arms like nothing happened?

She didn't need to say it, anyone can tell that she developed major abandonment issues after her ex-husband left her. Constantly worried if she's doing okay, afraid that people will leave her if she's incompetent.

She even wonders if that was the reason he left, was she not doing enough as his wife? Was she that easily replaceable?

Xavier shakes his head, seeing his mother's distress face, standing up from his seat and takes a seat next to her mother, cupping his mother's face with his hands, his thumbs wiping away her tears.

“No, mother... You're more than enough... I love you more than anything.” he says softly and kisses his mother's forehead.

“I love you too, my sweet child... Thank you for being such an amazing son of mine.” she says softly to him, giving Xavier a small smile, telling her about the extermination can wait, he doesn't want to add more to her problems.

TAGLIST:

@valerie-36 @blackbleedingrose @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @sxgacxbe @kooidoom @ok-boke @random-3455 @izzieg3987 @snoozewritezz @dreamzaremyrealityy @hcneyiced @witchbunny1210 @ghostdoodlen @aikobakugou @just-here-reading @dzhanett-blog @des-deswain5621 @cocomollo @haleypearce @onyxstarhigh06 @nirvana5874 @shaebutter-baby

[cringe--is--dead]

Nekoma Manager Headcanons

To start: talk about chaos.

I imagine the manager!reader as a 2nd year, as stated in my first one shot.

You look up to the third years, though the way you and Kuroo act you'd never admit it to his face.

Once you grow comfortable with the team, and vice versa, the two of you bicker like siblings.

Kai is who you gravitate to the most, he's so calm and quiet, you two grew closer faster because of this.

Yaku and Kuroo were both lowkey jealous; they both work on being doting upperclassmen in their own ways and now their manager is anxious around them? Heartbroken.

The first years think you hung the stars.

Lev is always trying to impress you with his moves, which more than often results in him missing a spike or getting hit in the face with what was supposed to be a receive.

Most of his failed attempts end with Yaku scolding him and you are torn between allowing him to shape his team and stepping in to play peacemaker.

Shibayama is the first team member to confide in you regarding any anxiety they had while playing; he compares himself to Yaku so much that it broke your heart, you two talked and you made him see he had made the team for a reason, and he left feeling much better.

Teshiro is more awkward or shy when approaching you, he may have been a first-year when you met him, but he knew the team hadn't had a manager in a long time. He was worried they might scare you off, specifically one of the... second years... But you stuck around! He liked to be around you, even if neither of you talked all the time, your presence was enjoyable. He also tended to be one of the only members (he and Kai) that didn't get scolded or yelled at.

Inuoka reminds you of a puppy, regardless of being on the team of "cats". He was actually the first member of the team to fully approach you, more than a simple introduction. He was so excited that you were their manager, it definitely helped you feel a lot more comfortable. Did you process everything he said to you? No. Was it endearing as hell? Yes.

If Kenma isn't sitting with Kuroo on bus rides he's sitting with you, you enjoy watching him playing his games, that or he enjoys the peace whenever you nap on the bus. Once he even let you play a game on his switch. Once.

Yamamoto is really excited to show you off at any and all practice matches they have. You're so supportive of them all that it makes him really emotional, and you've learned to just pat his head and walk away. You once showed up to an away game with your nails painted in your team colors and you watched that man genuinely weep.

Fukanaga loves to make you laugh whenever the team's quiet or having a more serious meeting. He learned your humor so fast it's dangerous. You can never be upset around him, he reads you like an open book, and whatever worry follows you around is quickly destroyed by him and his shining personality.

Like I said; you and Kuroo have a sibling like relationship once you're comfortable with the team. He leans his arm against your head like a headrest, you make fun of his attempts of sounding cool. The team finds it hilarious, and other than Yaku and Kenma, you're one of the few people he's terrified to piss off.

Kai is the upperclassman you look up to the most, he's calm and collected, smart and nice. He's everything you strive to be as a student and an upperclassman. He helps you study, he helped you learn about volleyball and all the info that comes with that when you first joined, he made sure to include you in any and all group hangouts when you were new.

Kai supremacy.

Yaku and you have, not to sound like I'm stuck in the 2020 fandom, but "parenting" personalities together. Yaku yells at Lev, you follow behind by telling Lev you two care about him and just want to see him get better! Yaku may worry when a teammate gets minorly injured, but you fret, despite knowing minor injuries occur in this sport. The time where you're on the same page exactly is whenever you take the opportunity to bully Kuroo.

He hates it.

I have to say: years ago when I first got into Haikyuu I made an OC for it, and she was Nekoma's manager. This entire thing is self-indulgent. If I was any good at art I'd have so many comic series with her. Sad.

Also I just saw the movie so I am hyperfocused on my boys.

[abyssalpeach]

in the case of the people vs. bell's hells...

and also the campaign 3 finale overall. disclaimer: this is gonna get long bc of my propensity to yap so i'm gonna simultaneously try to keep it short but also put it under a "read more." spoilers will be referenced throughout.

i wouldn't call these rent-lowering gunshots, but i desperately need some of the folks in this fandom to get a grip. so instead i'm asking: walk with me. hold my hand. i am looking you in the eyes and want this fandom to be a nice place. please forgive me for any attitude but i am tired of being talked down to.

"they never faced any consequences" consequences are the result bad dice rolls. of which they had plenty. if you think their narrative choices should have resulted in more punishment, say that. but i think you missed the part where they have targets on their back from several factions and now-mortal deities and you need to kill the cop in your head.

"it was too confusing and the pacing was bad" i don't even disagree with this takeaway. i will say this was actually the easiest campaign for me to follow. m9 is so fun, but was very narratively scattered at times. however, i think this is just the nature of ttrpg/actual play. it's not scripted. it's messy and sometimes you'll zone out about it. sometimes what the players want isn't what grabs you personally. it doesn't mean they're wrong or bad to play it that way.

"i fell off c3 and everything i've heard about the finale is stupid" fall off, then. totally fine, i'm not here to stop you, sincerely. and not to hurl cliches, but with tabletop it really is more about the journey than the destination. without context, you are missing too many pieces to pass judgement. that's all i'm gonna say on that.

"the other PCs were just so much better" i gotta say this one seems like a skill issue lol. there's not a single party i haven't loved with my whole heart, but they satisfy different purposes or dynamics! vm was destined for greatness. m9 was destined to pull important strings. bh was destined to shake up the order of things. they were supposed to be controversial in-world. they're salt of the earth, rising far beyond their stations ever expected. they became important at work and it very nearly ruined their lives.

"it was like sitting in a philosophy 101 class" praytell what philosophy classes that you've sat in discussed the ethics of magic, direct divine involvement in human* lives, and potential outcomes that would come along with killing all the gods or releasing something called the god-eater. look. i grew weary with the rehashing of these conversations too, really i did. that said, i think it needed to play out this way in order for the finale to go the way it did.

allow me to explain. one of the defining qualities of bell's hells was how different they all were. whether it's their perspectives, life experiences, backgrounds, desires, aspirations... you get it. this was the point. they were bound together by compassion and love for each other. and this extended to those they stood for personally, and those their friends cared about. it was how they approached ruidus, the gods, the people of vasselheim. and they walked the walk and trusted the process, prepared to face anything. including death.

*obviously including all exandrian/ruidian races beyond just human

"the finale cheapened the ending of vox machina" it didn't. i'm sorry but it very fundamentally did not and if that's your takeaway from a change of circumstance ~30 years down the line, i am worried that you are too lost in the sauce due to favoritism. if your takeaway from vax being allowed to return to the material plane is that now his conclusion from 30 years ago was just him going on a work trip, that is a you problem.

the narrative doesn't treat it like that. the characters don't treat it like that. the cast doesn't treat it like that. let me repeat myself: if you think vax's c1 ending is now nothing more than a glorified work trip, that is a you problem.

life goes on. the state of the world is changing constantly, especially in a world with gods and magic and different planes of existence. matt allowed these players to have direct involvement in the ways it changes. if vax was allowed to return in some capacity as a result of those changes, the cast made that happen. it wasn't even on bell's hells priority list! this was a natural change of circumstance. if that's the kind of thing you find upsetting, maybe unpack that elsewhere.

i'm gonna wrap it up here but i hope you keep this in mind: if you don't like a thing anymore, you can absolutely drop it. you don't need anyone's permission. but what i ask is that if you want to engage in thoughtful conversation and criticism about it, you keep these things in mind.

i don't believe this show or cast to be above criticism. i have plenty of critiques of my own. but the campaign three finale was the opposite of bad. it was the most satisfying conclusion we could have possibly gotten. it was the culmination of the last 3 years with almost everyone who encountered bell's hells and honored the last 10 years of their hard work. i am so so proud of matt and the cast and i think you should be too.

[pitviperofdoom]

I've said before that TAZ Balance is a great fandom for crossover AUs because you can have the Starblaster land in pretty much any fandom world at some point during the Stolen Century and it works out

And proof of this is that buried in my google docs is an outline of a crossover fic where the Starblaster touches down in Moominvalley.

Obviously I wasn't going to let the Hunger devour this particular world, so they do wind up finding the Light of Creation in time, but unfortunately they find it in the hands of the Groke, who doesn't want to give it up because it turns out their powers cancel each other out, allowing her to approach people without freezing them to death. (Obviously Magnus is the first to befriend her, and they eventually solve this by crafting her some stones of farspeech so she can at least talk to people even if she can't get close to them anymore)

Also the longer they stayed in Moominvalley the more it gets "infected" by D&D mechanics, to the point where Snufkin starts granting Bardic Inspiration and Moomintroll finds out he can Action Surge. (Sniff gets really good at the Disengage and Dodge actions.)

No clue if I'll ever go back to it but just for fun here's what I wrote for it:

Barely a week after the start of spring, a ship descended into the valley and landed far too close for comfort by Moominmamma’s flower beds.

Moominpappa was smoking on the porch when it happened, having woken up with the sun before anyone else in the house. It was a gray, overcast morning, with the sky still shaking off the winter weather, but all at once it seemed as though the clouds had parted. As he watched, pipe tumbling from his lips, the dense cloud cover split around the silvery hull of a sailing vessel.

And oh, how impressive it was! It rivalled even Hodgkins’ Amphibian in pure impressiveness. From one end to the other the ship shone like polished metal--perhaps that was what it was--and there seemed to be a faint shimmering bubble around it. At the stern, a large, glowing white ring rotated slowly, flashing in the sunlight that peeked through the now scattered clouds.

The air hummed as the ship touched down not far from where Pappa sat watching its arrival in speechless awe. It didn’t seem very loud to his ears, but a moment later Moominmamma opened the door and stepped outside, perplexed.

“Now what’s all this?” she asked. “You weren’t expecting visitors this morning, were you, Pappa?”

“I wasn’t,” Moominpappa admitted, getting up to retrieve his dropped pipe. “How strange. Has Hodgkins built something new?”

“Only one way to find out, I suppose,” Moominmamma said. “I’ll set a few more places at the table, just in case.”

Moominpappa squinted. HIs eyesight wasn’t what it used to be, but he could make out a number of figures standing on the deck. He counted five at first, but as he approached the silver ship and its spinning ring, he spotted two more.

“Hello!” he called up. “Hodgkins, I don’t suppose that’s you, is it?”

At first there was no answer, aside from the shimmery bubble flickering out. Moominpappa squinted. The ship’s crew appeared to be conferring with one another. After a moment, one of their number broke away from the rest. A small staircase lowered itself from the hull, and the individual descended the steps cautiously.

Moominpappa blinked, then tipped his head back a little. The person before him, who was quite tall and broad enough to resemble a bear, offered a friendly smile that was only slightly offset by his noticeable black eye. After a moment, he extended a thickly muscled arm for a handshake.

“Hail and well met!” the newcomer greeted.

---

As bizarre dimensions went, a world populated by talking white hippo creatures ranked pretty low compared to what they’d already seen. Still, there had been a terrifying moment in which Magnus wondered whether or not the creature he was greeting was even sentient.

But the moment passed, and the hippo(?) accepted his handshake with a cheerful, “Welcome to Moominvalley! That’s quite a ship you have there,” in a deep baritone voice that definitely sounded out of place coming from a vaguely marshmallow-shaped creature with a top hat and a pipe.

A response like that meant a lot of things. One, they were probably friendly. And two, a giant flying ship landing near their backyard apparently wasn’t that weird. It was good to set parameters like that. 

“Uh, thanks!” Turning, Magnus waved up to the others. “So anyway, we’re super sorry for landing right next to your house, if you want us to move we totally can, just give us a minute…” 

“You’re fine, as long as you don’t flatten the rosebushes by accident,” the creature chuckled, pausing to puff on his pipe. “If you’d like, you can tell us all about it over breakfast.”

“You know what, that sounds awesome,” Magnus said, sincerely. It was always nice to find a world that appreciated good old-fashioned Rustic Hospitality. “Quick question, though, just to get it out of the way… have you seen any bright lights, recently?”

“Bright lights…” The hippo’s round dark eyes squinted thoughtfully. “What sort of bright lights?”

“Oh, you couldn’t miss it,” Magnus replied. “White, sparkly, falling out of the sky, fills you with the overwhelming need to go out and get it… have you seen anything like that?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t,” the creature said, sounding genuinely regretful. 

It was Magnus’s turn to squint. In past worlds, the Light of Creation had been craveable enough for people to lie to keep them away from it, but after ninety-odd years Magnus was reasonably certain that he could tell one way or the other. Hippo Man seemed truthful. “Well, that’s all right. Thanks anyway.”

“I’ll be sure to keep an eye out, just in case,” the creature offered. “In any case, the offer of breakfast still stands. Feel free to invite your friends; we don’t mind guests around here.”

“Oh, sweet. Uh, there’s like seven of us, if that’s okay.”

“The more the merrier! I’ll go and let Moominmamma know. It’s a lovely morning; we might as well set up the breakfast table outside today.” With that, the hippo tipped his top hat to Magnus and turned to walk back to the tall house.

Magnus watched him go. “Huh.”

It had been less than a week since they first slipped into this dimension with the Hunger snapping at their heels, and they had spent most of that time orbiting the planet to take stock of it from afar. First contact with the locals was always a gamble, so a friendly first impression was always a good sign.

“Magnus?” Davenport called down. “How does it look down there? Was that creature friendly?”

“Yeah, I’ll say!” Magnus answered. “We’re invited to breakfast!”

Davenport opened his mouth to reply, only to be shoved unceremoniously out of the way as Taako bypassed the stairs and vaulted over the railing. “Hell yeah, I’m starving!” Lup was close behind, taking the steps three at a time.

“Hey, wait a minute, we don’t know if what they’re serving is even safe!” Davenport shouted after them.

“We have spells for that, dingus!” Lup yelled back without looking over her shoulder.

Davenport sighed and let them go before turning to Magnus. “Any sign of the Light of Creation?”

“He said he hasn’t seen it,” Magnus answered. “I don’t think he was lying, but…”

Merle’s head poked over the railing. “Ooh, that’s my time to shine! Be right down!” 

Davenport sighed in resignation, threw his hands upward, and followed. From what Magnus could tell, Lucretia and Barry were close behind him.

By the time everyone had disembarked, and Magnus had gone up to the ship to check on Fisher, breakfast was just about ready. There was a long table set up out on the grass, covered in a clean white tablecloth and set with eleven places and plates piled high with pancakes and fresh fruit. There were three hippo-creatures now; aside from the original in the top hat, there was one in an apron and a smaller one with no adornments at all. Two parents and a kid, maybe? On the table--literally on the table--was a little girl nimbly dodging the dishes to put down silverware. She was tiny: small enough to fit in the palm of Magnus’s hand. Even the smallest gnomes and halflings would tower over her; Davenport certainly did.

As Magnus watched, fascinated by the idyllic little scene, the smallest hippo began laying out a twelfth place setting. The tiny girl rounded on him, hands on her hips.

“What are you doing, Moomintroll?” she demanded. “There are four of us and seven of them, we don’t need any more plates.”

“It’s just in case!” the hippo creature answered, a little defensively. 

The girl rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why I’m bothering asking,” she said. “It’s not even a week into spring, you know.”

“Now, Little My,” the apron-wearer chided her gently. “It never hurts to be prepared, no matter who happens to show up.” She turned to the crew of the Starblaster with a warm smile. “Of course, you’re all very welcome. You look as if you’ve had a long journey.”

“You have nooo idea,” Lup muttered.

“I believe introductions are in order,” Top Hat said, clapping his hands together. “You may call me Moominpappa.”

“I am Moominmamma,” the apron-wearer said. “But please, feel free to call me Mamma if you like.”

“I’m Moomintroll,” the third creature piped up. “This is our friend LIttle My.”

“I can speak for myself,” Little My said pointedly.

“One of these things is not like the other,” Taako singsonged under his breath. Magnus dug his elbow into the elf’s ribs.

“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you,” Davenport said, puffing his chest out as he stepped up as the leader. “I am Captain Davenport of the Starblaster, and these are my crewmates and friends. Thank you very much for your hospitality.”

“Well, then, why don’t we all eat?” Moominmamma suggested, pressing her hands together. “We can all get to know each other over a good meal.”

---

Such interesting strangers, Moomintroll thought. They all wore such pretty red coats and came in all sizes, from Captain Davenport whose head barely reached the top of Moomintroll’s snout, to Mr. Magnus Burnsides who towered over everyone. Some of them were beautiful, like quiet Lucretia with her white hair, and Lup and Taako with their long pointed ears and matching faces. Others were more plain but still friendly-looking, like bespectacled Barry and stout Merle.

And the ship. Was this what the Oshun Oxtra of Pappa’s stories had looked like, after Hodgkins taught it to fly? Pappa never said anything about a spinning white ring.

In any case, there were a lot of names to learn, and Moomintroll did his best, though he wasn’t quite sure which one was Lup and which was Taako. At the moment one of them was chatting with Mamma, asking about her pancake recipe.

Somehow, Little My had ended up sitting right next to Magnus, whose name Moomintroll couldn’t possibly forget because of how incredibly big he was. He couldn’t help but think that if Little My were to fall from a great height and land on Magnus’s head, Magnus would hardly notice.

“So what sort of creature are you, to get so big?” Little My asked boldly.

“Oh, I’m just a human,” Magnus answered. “Er… do you guys have humans around here?”

“None in Moominvalley, that’s for sure,” Moomintroll answered.

“I’ve never heard of a human before,” Little My said.

“Yeah, that’s fine, wouldn’t be the first time,” Magnus said. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Little My asked suspiciously.

“It means we’re not from around here, darling,” the woman who was either Lup or Taako replied. Even their voices were similar, almost musical in the way they traveled through the octaves.

“I was wondering about that,” Mamma said. “If you don’t mind me asking, where are you from?”

“Yes, and what brings you here?” Pappa added eagerly. “I’m always eager to hear news from travelers.”

Their breakfast guests exchanged glances. They didn’t look suspicious about it; they looked to Moomintroll as if they simply didn’t know how to answer.

“How far did you travel to get here?” he tried. “It must have been far, if you have a ship that flies. Did you come from over the ocean?”

“We came from beyond the stars,” one of them, whose name Moomintroll had regrettably forgotten, said at last.

“Barold,” one of the twins warned.

“What?” Barold shrugged. “At this point, what do we really have to lose by telling the truth?”

“Yeah that’s a good idea, telling the truth,” Merle said with a grin.

“No, wait--!” Davenport protested. 

For a moment, Moomintroll felt lightheaded. Before he even had time to worry about it, the strange dizzy spell had already passed, leaving him none the worse for wear. He shook his head in confusion.

“So, any of you guys seen the Light of Creation in the past couple of weeks?” Merle asked.

“The Light of Creation?” Mamma echoed. “That sounds lovely. I haven’t the faintest idea what it is, I’m afraid.”

“It’s hard to explain exactly what it is or what it’s made of, in literal and scientific terms,” Barold replied. “Mostly because we still aren’t sure ourselves. But in appearance it manifests as a bright light, about so big.” He held his hands apart. “You would know it if you saw it. It would have been seen falling from the sky.”

Little My raised her hand in triumph. “I haven’t seen anything,” she said loftily. A look of confusion crossed her face. “I mean, I haven’t seen the light you’re talking about.” Her confusion turned to a frown, and then a scowl. “I haven’t seen it. I haven’t seen it.”

“What’s the matter?” Mamma asked. “It’s alright if you haven’t seen it. I don’t think any of us have.”

“I was trying to say I had so that I could play a trick on them!” Little My blurted out, then clapped her paws over her mouth. 

“Are you feeling alright, Little My?” Moomintroll asked.

“I keep saying things I don’t mean to—!” Little My stopped talking for a moment, still pressing her paws to her mouth. Her scowl deepened, more thoughtful than angry, before she finally lowered her paws and leveled a smirk at him. “Hey Moomintroll, who did you set the extra place at the table for?”

Moomintroll opened his mouth to say Sniff, or Too-Ticky, or Snorkmaiden, or even the Hemulen. What came out instead was, “It’s for Snufkin, if he comes back today.” He froze, wide-eyed, one paw flying to his mouth.

“Moominpappa, tell a lie!” Little My said.

Pappa looked confused for a moment before replying, “You’re behaving very oddly at the moment.” He blinked. “Oh, my. That’s not what I meant to say at all.”

Little My leapt up onto the table, sending Magnus’s glass of raspberry juice flying. “You!” she shouted, pointing across the table to Merle. “You said something about telling the truth, and now none of us can tell a lie!”

“Let me see,” Mamma said. “I find Ms. Fillyjonk to be excellent company. Sniff is fearless and selfless and a very good cook. It is currently raining. …No, I can still tell lies.”

Moomintroll looked to Merle, who had stuffed half a pancake into his mouth to keep from having to reply. Davenport and Lucretia had their heads in their paws.

One of the twins barely looked up from his food as he replied, “Merle cast a spell that makes you tell the truth.”

Merle almost choked on his mouthful. “Well don’t talk if you got caught up in it too!” 

“I didn’t. You’re just being an idiot.”

“Incredible,” Pappa murmured.

“Not really,” the other twin said, lazily lifting her paw. Before the eyes of everyone at the table, her slender paw burst into flame. Before Moomintroll could think of grabbing the juice pitcher, the fire went out without leaving a single scorch mark behind. “Most of us can do stuff like that. It’s whatever.”

Little My almost dove over the table. “Can you teach me to do that?”

“Maybe some other time, punkin.”

Barold cleared his throat. “Anyway,” he said, “Sorry about Merle, that’s the only spell he knows.”

“Is not! Who healed your ass five times in the last cycle?”

“As I was saying,” Barold went on. “You were asking us where we came from?”

“Yes, you mentioned stars,” Mamma replied.

Moomintroll sat up straighter. Stars were always worth discussing. “You said beyond the stars,” he added.

“Yes,” Davenport said reluctantly. “I don’t suppose you know about other worlds, do you?”

“Other planets, maybe,” Moomintroll said. “And the Hobgoblin was up on the moon for a while, but he doesn’t really live there.”

[vortexbloom]

Velvet Nights (Part 1)

Pairing: Phainon x Escort Girl Reader

Fandom: HSR (Honkai Star Rail)

Warnings: Spicy, Modern Au

─୨ৎ────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────୨ৎ─

Masterlist - Honkai Star Rail

Masterlist - Genshin Impact

Moodboards - Genshin Impact

Masterlist - Marvel

Boycott List

Velvet Nights (Part 2)

Velvet Nights (Part 3)

Velvet Nights (Bonus)

─୨ৎ────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────୨ৎ─

English isn‘t my first/native language, so there might be misspellings etc.

I do NOT own any Characters !

Have fun reading this :D

Art by: @junnoelle on X (Twitter)

The club was a world of its own, dimly lit, drenched in gold and crimson, filled with the scent of expensive perfume and whispered secrets. It was a place where people came to forget themselves, to indulge in fantasies they couldn’t have anywhere else.

And it was here that Phainon saw you for the first time.

He wasn’t supposed to be there. Someone like him, refined, composed, with an aura of effortless power, didn’t belong in a place like this. Yet, there he was, sitting at the private bar, his eyes glinting under the low lights as he watched you with an unreadable expression.

You were used to being watched. Men gazed at you every night, their stares hungry, some filled with reverence, others with lust. But Phainon’s gaze was different. He wasn’t looking at you like he wanted to own you, he was looking at you like he wanted to understand you.

And that was dangerous.

You approached him with the same confidence you always carried, your dress hugging every curve as you leaned on the bar beside him. "You don’t look like the kind of man who usually comes here," you mused, swirling the drink in your hand.

Phainon’s lips curled into the faintest smirk. "And you don’t look like the kind of woman who belongs here."

You let out a soft laugh. "And yet, here we both are."

There was a pause, heavy with tension.

"You don’t belong to anyone here, do you?" Phainon asked, his voice smooth but edged with something deeper, curiosity, possessiveness, maybe even something more dangerous.

You tilted your head. "No one belongs to anyone here, darling. That’s the rule of the game."

Phainon leaned closer, his voice a whisper against your skin. "Then what would it take to break the rules?"

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

Phainon wasn’t like your usual clients. He never asked for what the others did. He never demanded, never treated you like you were a fantasy to be bought and sold.

Instead, he talked to you.

He asked about your dreams, your fears, your past. He watched you with those eyes that seemed to see through every mask you had carefully built over the years.

And that scared you more than anything.

One night, he made an offer.

"Come with me," he said, sliding a thick envelope onto the table. "One night. Just you and me. No games."

You arched a brow, fingers grazing over the edge of the envelope. "And what exactly do you want from me?"

Phainon exhaled, his gaze softer than you’d ever seen it. "Everything you won’t give to anyone else."

Your heart pounded. This was different. This was real.

And you weren’t sure you were ready for real

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

That night, you went with him.

Not to a hotel. Not to a private room in the club.

But to his home—a sleek penthouse overlooking the city, so quiet compared to the chaos of your usual life.

"You can leave whenever you want," Phainon said, standing by the window, his silhouette bathed in moonlight.

You hesitated. You had been with countless men before. You knew how to play the game. But this wasn’t a game. This was something else entirely.

Slowly, you stepped closer, your fingers grazing over his suit. "And what if I don’t want to leave?"

Phainon turned, golden eyes dark with something unspoken. His hand came up to cup your face, thumb brushing over your lips.

"Then stay."

The kiss that followed wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It was slow, deep, like he was savoring every second. Like he was memorizing the way you felt under his hands.

And for the first time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t just another fantasy to him.

Maybe, to Phainon, you were real.

© 2024-2025 vortexbloom all rights reserved. Don’t repost, edit, translate or plagiarize my work!

Make sure to tell me if you want to be tagged in the next parts.

Have a good day/night/evening/morning/afternoon ☼꥟☽

[kakuvibez]

yandere one shot + quotes; Octavinelle Dorm

requested by ; anonymous/ @user / none,,

fandom(s) ; Ever after high, twisted wonderland,,

fandom master list(s): master | specific

character(s); Jade, Azul, Floyd, Ashlynn

outline; " ... "

warning(s) ; Yandere behavior, obsession, unhealthy relationships, delusional love, manipulation, dark themes, toxic affection,,

❛❛I was never thrilled about being swept away by some random "Prince Charming". True love should happen naturally.❜❜

Signature Spell: IF THE SHOE FITS!,, Ashlynn [N] can communicate with every single kind of magical creature, whether it be animals, pixies, dragons, or even plants.

❛❛I'm more of a morning princess.❜❜

❛❛A natural beauty❜❜

❛❛New school, new you they said. 'It'll be fun!' they said. Lies❜❜

❛❛Missing Hunter more than ever. This place feels so... cold.❜❜

❛❛Met some interesting people today. Three of them, actually. They're from the Octavinelle dorm. They're... peculiar I suppose,❜❜

❛❛Azul offered me a "deal." I'm not sure if I should do it, Yuu said I shouldn't..❜❜

❛❛Jade keeps watching me. It's unnerving."❜❜

❛❛Floyd... he's... unpredictable for sure. And somehow, terrifyingly exciting.❜❜

❛❛I don't like him hugging me... Hes a strong hugger❜❜

❛❛I think I'm in trouble. ❜❜

Ok, new school, new you, right? Wrong. I mean, who can blame you? Having to break up with your lovable Hunter just because your parents didn't approve of your relationship with him. Arriving at Night Raven College was weird... The scary horse and the coffin was the worst thing everrrr. The president or head leader said that you would be placed in the Octavinelle dorm, and in a blink, you appear in the mirror hall. You look at the mirror and enter it. As you stump into you are meant with your guide. As you enter your new room you sigh.

"New school, new me," you muttered to yourself as you unpacked your things, your mind wandering. She wasn’t even sure what kind of trouble she had walked into. Three boys from the Octavinelle dorm, in particular, had noticed her.

Azul Ashengrotto, with his sly, calculating smile, had been the first to approach. His charming offer of a "deal" lingered in your mind. He was always one to offer deals—most of them shady, but promising. “Think carefully,” he had said. "I'm offering you something that could be beneficial to both of us." Ashlynn [N] wasn’t stupid; she knew better than to get involved with that kind of deal. Yuu had warned her, and for once, she listened. Even though the offer was quite nice unlimited supplies for shoes in exchange for a location in every high city.

Azul is also very possessive in subtle ways—tracking her every move through his connections and ensuring that no one else gets too close. He’s calculated, always making sure to manipulate situations so that [N]’s loyalty tilts in his favor.

Azul sees [N] as a rare opportunity, not just for his business but as a potential prize. He’s fascinated by her natural charm and ability to communicate with creatures, thinking she could be an asset to him in ways no one else could.

He'll offer her deals that she knows are too good to be true. The catch? She would have to owe him. He loves the idea of her being indebted to him, knowing that she can't escape.

“You know, Ashlynn, deals are all about trust. Don’t you trust me?”

“You’re wasting your potential here. Let me help you... for a small price, of course.”

“You’re fascinating, truly. A princess who doesn’t want a Prince Charming? How delightfully ironic.”

Then there were the other two: Jade Leech, who seemed to study her from afar. His eyes always seemed to follow her every move, never too overt, but it was enough to send shivers down her spine. She couldn't help but feel like a specimen under his gaze, like he was analyzing her every expression, every little thing she did.

Jade’s gaze is like a predator watching its prey. He never speaks much, but when he does, his words are laced with double meanings. He’s extremely perceptive, and [N]'s every action doesn’t go unnoticed.

Jade admires [N]’s spell with creatures, considering it a rare form of power. He sees her as a potential plaything to mold, making sure that she remains "his" in some twisted way.

He often offers her little "gifts"—rare plants or flowers that are mysteriously beautiful yet unsettling. He’s always near her, but just enough to make her feel his presence without overstepping.

“It’s curious how you can speak to magical creatures. Tell me, what do they say about me?”

“You shouldn’t look so worried. It’s unbecoming of someone as radiant as you.”

“I enjoy observing things of beauty. And you, [N], are quite... exquisite.”

But Floyd? Floyd Leech was something entirely different. He was unpredictable, fun, and terrifyingly exciting all at once. Whenever he smiled, it was like he was playing a game—and she was the prize. His hugs were so tight it made her gasp for air, and no matter how many times she pushed him away, he would always find a way to get closer. She had every time to get to the nurse person because of the bruises that he will leave after every hug.

Floyd doesn’t hide his affection for [N]; in fact, he thrives on making her nervous. His hugs are his way of "claiming" her, even though she pushes him away. His love is chaotic, and he enjoys tormenting her with his unpredictable nature.

He’s the most vocal about his feelings, always teasing her and making her heart race. The more she resists, the more he enjoys the chase, finding her reactions incredibly amusing and enticing.

Whenever she’s feeling down, Floyd will appear suddenly, either to cheer her up or to keep her on edge, with a smile that’s both comforting and terrifying at the same time.

“[N]! Ashlynn! Come play with me! You can’t say no—it’ll be sooo boring without you!”

“Why do you always try to run away? It’s way more fun when you’re around!”

“Hahaha, you’re so tiny! I could just carry you everywhere, like a little doll!”

She had no idea how to escape them, or if she even wanted to.

Her signature magic makes her even more valuable in the eyes of Azul and Jade, both of whom see her as a potential asset to control and manipulate. Floyd, on the other hand, just loves the idea of having her magic around to "play" with.

[N]’s spell is deeply tied to her empathy, as she can hear the emotions of the creatures she connects with. It often leaves her feeling drained, but she also finds solace in talking to them. Sometimes trying to warn her but they know better than to do that.

More?,,

Comment if you think I could make it better for the character's personality or anything!

[sinsofbeauty]

Red Stained Sunflower Pt.2

Fandom: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Game

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Use of Pet Names, Suggestive Nsfw content, Mentions of Kidnapping, Obsessive/Clingy Johnny, Jealous Johnny, Small mention of murder

Requested?: Yee

Overview: Looks like you bailed on the little invitation Johnny had asked of you. It wasn’t because you didn’t want to, you actually got quite intimidated. Though that doesn’t stop him from seeking you out and making his intentions clear

A/n: So many of you wanted this to be a series, so here it is!! This is part 2 of 3!

Please comment if you would like to be tagged for part three!!! Enjoy!

Minors DNI!!!!

Part 1 - Red Stained Sunflower

“Hey Daddy?” You asked your father with the turn of your head. “How long are we gonna be in town for?”

He took a quick glance over to you before shrugging, “Oh maybe an hour or two. Just meeting with some old friends.”

You nodded your head and moved to look out the window. “I was talking to Maria on the telephone, she wanted to see if I could stop by the roller rink.” You replied to his comment. “Hope you don’t mind if I take a little detour.”

You were supposed to accompany Johnny out to the fields last night, but you decided to remain home instead. Now you were making arrangements with friends as though you weren't worried about the entire situation. You felt terrible, but you also couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the circumstances. Yes, Johnny was appealing, and his words would make you want to explode. But LORD! Johnny Slaughter was intimidating.

Your only concern on the trip into town with your father was the fact that you had essentially abandoned one of the Slaughter Brothers. How were you going to justify your absence because you were anxious? Private moments with him... Ugh!! You weren't sure how you would be able to face him after abandoning him in that way. Like, seriously. How were you going to explain to a man like him that the reason you didn't appear was because you're a virgin…?

Your heart was racing when you arrived to the roller rink. Even though you were still troubled by thoughts of Johnny, seeing the group at the rink's entrance helped you feel less concerned. Even if you weren't close to them, you had Maria there to keep you company, so it was well worth it to slip away from your father and his group of friends to spend time with your own. You immediately identified their faces. Connie, Julie, and Ana were all grinning and laughing as Leland and Sonny stood to the side. When Maria's eyes finally found you after searching, they completely lit up.

“Hey! Y/n over here!!” Her delighted voice echoed from across the street.

As you approach everyone, you wave and smile. They all appeared to be happy to see you, which gave you a strange feeling. Can't hold yourself to blame, though; you haven't been able to leave the house much because you've been so cooped up inside helping your father with his work.

“Hey guys!” You say, greeting them happily.

“Y/n! I’m so glad you could make it!” Maria gave you a nice warm hug in return. “You remember Ana don’t you? We brought a couple friends along if you don’t mind!”

“Oh no of course not! It’ll be fun!” You shrug your shoulders, waving your arm to brush off any doubt about more people. “Let’s go inside, yeah?”

Some of the group had their own skates, while others had to rent them when they entered the rink. Since you didn’t own any skates, you obtained a pair that fit you and sat down. Though you found yourself stuck tying and untying your shoelaces. Simply said, they weren't secure enough, and you didn't intend to break an ankle today. Before you notice someone roll over, you sigh and wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans.

“Need some help?”

In his sky blue shirt and navy blue jeans, which were fastened by a brown belt, Leland stood in front of you. The skates he had rented took the place of his shoes, and he was able to move around in them with ease. He was on the wrestling team in high school, and you somewhat recognized him from there. He also hung around with this little group of people. He was really kind to say the least, tall, strong, and fairly attractive for a young man his age.

Your eyes look up at the man who you nodded at with a smile. “Please, I’m having trouble tying them tight enough.”

The Texan smirks and bends down, taking one of your feet and pulling at the strings. “Let me know if it’s too tight, okay?” You nodded once more at his voice as he started tying your skates. Before moving on to the next, he questioned as to whether or not they felt snug enough for you. You felt good about it, and he was very considerate in making the gesture. “Alright, how do they feel?” He asked standing up.

As you rise up, you circle your feet before nodding your head in appreciation. “Perfect. Better than I could ever do. Thank you, Leland.”

His eyes squint when he gives a genuine smile, a gesture to your thankful remark. “Anytime. Say, I don’t see ya’ around here often. Do ya’… know how to skate?”

Oh dear God, you can't recall the last time you entered that rink. You probably haven't done it in months, and you weren't doing it frequently to begin with. You chuckle nervously while rubbing your hands together behind your back. “Uh… kinda? It’s been a while.” You admit to him. “I’m not the best skater but it’ll come back! I just get nervous when other people go fast past me.”

Just standing there made your legs feel like jello. You tried to move closer to Leland but all you did was sway back and forth. He chuckled at this, the male moving forward to grab your shoulders and prevent you from toppling. “I can teach ya’, practice makes perfect.”

“Says the one who was in the wrestling team.” You roll your eyes at him, making the man laugh in response. “I’d be on the ground more times than you’d like.”

“Hey! I’m a good teacher! We can go nice and slow at first, and you’ll still have a great time… in the rink, I mean. That sounded so weird…”

You giggled at his words, making his cheeks dust a soft pink. He was such a dork… cute.

“Come on guys! We’ve been waiting!” Exclaims Julie from the rink, making you and Leland look over.

“We’re coming,” You said, shifting past Leland with your wobbly legs as you made your way over. “I’m trying not to die. You guys are much more experienced at this.”

You almost went over with just one foot on that surface, but once you were stable, everything was good. Leland swiftly followed after you as you joined the others with a sigh of relief. Getting acclimated to the people and the surroundings took some time. You were still unable to go as quickly as Julie or Maria, who frequently sped by you.

“I’m gonna go around a couple times. Think you can handle it on ya’ own?” Leland asks, that genuine smile making you give one in return.

“For now. Go ahead, I’ll catch up eventually.”

After hearing your response, he quickly speeds away while teasing Maria and Julie about catching up. You chuckle, enjoying how this afternoon will play out. It was lovely to see everyone enjoying themselves. Being outside of the house felt wonderful. The gang laughed and joked as they skated around the rink. Leland was always there to catch you even if you were a little awkward and nearly fell a few times. He gave you a comforting smile as you both laughed despite how embarrassing it was. The group stopped to acquire some food after some time spent skating. Even though your heart was still beating from all the excitement, you were happy that you and your friends were having such a good time.

After a few hours, everyone departed the rink exhausted but content. You said your goodbyes and thanked them for an amazing time. You were relieved that you had chosen to go out with them as opposed to staying home or being barraged by your father’s older friends who wanted to talk to you.

“Hey Y/n,” Leland had said, catching you before you left. “I was wondering, I usually come around here at this time of day. Did you… wanna skate with me next week?”

You thought about it, and it didn’t hurt to meet some new people around. Even though he was closer with Maria, maybe a new group of people would be nice to hang around with. “Sure. Are you busy next Friday?”

“Great! Uhm… No, that should be fine. I’ll see ya’ then?”

You nodded your head, grinning as you left, feeling satisfied with the events of the day as you made your way back to meet with your father.

——

After a long, productive day, you were just finishing your shower at home. You check that your hair isn't excessively dripping before stepping out of the restroom while you're wrapped in a towel. No one was awake to bother you this late in the evening since your father was asleep. Your room was upstairs, turning left down the hall and another left past the bathroom across from it. Your father was immediately up the stairs to the right of the hall in his own room.

You entered your room and turned to lock the door behind you before turning on the lights. Despite the events earlier, your mind still wandered to Johnny. Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. Once more, you were unable to remove him from your head. Another day without communication meant that you would have to make an effort to avoid having to give an explanation. You sigh and close your eyes before turning to head for your dresser. In spite of this, as soon as you open them, you jump and cover your mouth to stifle the surprised sound that escapes from you.

“Johnny!” Looking at the man who was idly sitting on your bed fiddling with his hair, you blurted out. Your heart was pounding furiously. What the hell was he doing here? How did he get in here? What is he doing here??? He just sat in the dark, waiting for you to come in like… like a weirdo!! “The fuck are you doing? Why are you in my room?!”

His clothing caught your attention because it was a little different from what he typically wore. He appeared to have just taken a shower because his hair was moist and combed back. His navy blue jeans were fastened to his hips by a brown belt, and his dark gray long sleeve shirt was rolled to the dips of his arms just above his elbows. He wore his worn-out boots, without gloves to protect his calloused hands, and grinned endlessly.

“Should really keep that back window locked. So much easier than havin’ ta’ lock pick my way in at night.” He spoke quietly, as if he knew your father was in the room next to him. Low, as if he knew what trouble sneaking in here could get him into. “Ya’ don’t look happy ta’ see me sweetpea. Did I do something~?”

“Well for one, you’re in my room… uninvited.” You drew closer to the man who was lounging on your bed, your brows furrowed at him, your nose flared. “And I’m in a towel…naked! What if I started changing because I didn’t know you were here??”

Your face instantly turned red as his smile grew larger. He wasn't even required to respond to the question. You snort before turning around and returning to your door to lock it. The worst-case scenario would be your father interrupting you two. Yes, you were a grown woman, but technically speaking, sneaking someone into the house would not look so inviting. Especially if it was the Slaughter boy.

“Jesus… just— why are you here?” You ask, turning back to the man who you didn’t realize stood in those moments you were turned around. He appeared... distracted. It seemed as though he was thinking about or bothered by something.

“Oh me? I jus’ wanted ta’ see ya’!” He said with the slight wave of his hands. “I wanted ta’ know whatchu were doin’, cause… obviously, it wasn’t me.”

“Yeah about that…” You trailed off, looking at the floor for a moment. It was… a nice floor. Maybe staring at it would help you think about how to tell him without feeling like a total idiot. “I just got… a little nervous.”

You looked up at the man as he surprised you with a chuckle. His facial expressions were unpredictable. He appears disturbed one second, then happy the next. Even just looking at him made you feel conflicted. Your hands were holding onto the towel that was about to fall down your body as he started to approach you. “Nervous hm? About what?”

You sighed as you cast a glimpse his way and fiddled with the towel covering your body. “I don’t know how to explain…”

“Come on now, ya’ don’t have ta’ be scared ‘round me,” Johnny gave reassurance while smiling oddly relaxed. Observing the shit-eating grin that emerged on his face, you gave him a little glare. “Okay maybe a lil’ bit~. But come on, it can’t be that bad!”

He makes you huff and shrug your shoulders in response. Why did talking about this seem so embarrassing? It was Johnny… In any case, he didn't have much to say about it. Right? You grumble, your mouth twitching slightly as your nose flares once more. “I didn’t come because… I was nervous about being a virgin.”

The last few words were mumbled, but it appears like Johnny heard them right away. At that instant, Johnny's lips curled into a wicked grin, which his hand moved to conceal right away. You shivered, a chill running up your spine at the laugh that burst forth from his throat seconds later. “That’s the reason? Cause, nobody’s taken yer lil’ cherry yet~?”

“It’s not funny!” You exclaim slapping his bicep, only to obtain another silly laugh from him. “It’s a sensitive thing! I have a right to be anxious about it!! Especially if… those intentions were indicated.”

“Oh honeybee, ya’ think I’d feel any different?” Johnny said with the shrug of his shoulders. “I mean— I’m a lil’ surprised! A pretty girl like you? I would’ve expected it to be long gone by now.”

“Well it’s not so you can stop teasing me about it,” You pout, crossing your arms with the shake of your head.

At that very time, Johnny was getting closer to you and dipping his head slightly. His eyebrows dropped, his gaze became unreadable, and his hands, which fiddled with his belt, twitched in anticipation as his voice abruptly shifted to a low tone. “How cute, and ta’ think, I’ll be the one takin’ it from ya’~.”

“Eh- You-…” You turned in defeat as the sentence that attempted to form failed miserably. You scowl and head to your dresser to look for something to wear. “God I hate you sometimes. I can just imagine how much it would hurt.”

Johnny smirked as he approached from behind you and gently grabbed your shoulders. “Oh I won’t hurtcha, much.” He replied. “I’ll go nice and slow for ya’ darlin’.”

“I doubt that,” Smiling, you respond before shutting the dresser door and turning to face Johnny. His eagerness was evident from the little shudder of his shoulders as his hands were now in his pockets. “You’re thinking about it too much.”

“Maybe I am~.” He says, slyly smiling while momentarily averting his gaze. “Ya’ know I can’t help myself doll. Even now, just lookin’ at ya’ makes me excited.”

You rolled your eyes after moving around him to your bed, placing your clothes on it with a soft pat. “I’m in a towel with nothing under it, of course you’re excited.” You say sarcastically.

“Well, ya’ did look good earlier today,” Johnny stated, making you freeze in place. He had a menacing smirk on his face when you turned to face him.

“You were in town today?”

“Jus’ happened ta’ be,” Responded Johnny with a shrug. “Saw ya’ walkin’ ta’ that lil’ roller rink on the side of town with ya’ lil’ friends.”

“Yeah, I had planned to go out with them that morning.” You spoke to him, fiddling with the towel.

Johnny moved a few steps closer to you while humming and tilting his head. “Oh I know! Ya’ looked like ya’ had fun, especially with pretty boy touchin’ up all on ya’.”

As much as how he seemed, his vocal tone also appeared to shift. He appeared agitated, as far as you could tell. You didn’t even have to mention Leland, he had been watching you that whole time. The encounters you had with the other young adult in question. He absolutely despised it. Just having the idea of how furious he would have been as Leland assisted you in any way he could. Was he… no, he couldn’t be.

“So, you’re telling me that you followed me and watched me with my friends today?”

The man's mouth twisted in annoyance as he let out a little giggle. “Curiosity got the best o’ me, I will admit.” Johnny said, his half lidded eyes looking away. He clenched his jaw and pursed his lips before turning to face you.

“Well, we’re just friends if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Sure– I mean, I have no problem with it! I mean if ‘e touches ya’ again,” Johnny lets out a laugh. “He never will, let’s jus’ leave it at that.”

“Oh? Is that so?” You ask with a smirk. “And to think, Johnny Slaughter is jealous of another man.”

“Jealous?! AHA– I’m not jealous!” He makes an effort to justify his obsessive tendencies, but it simply serves to highlight it. His eyes widen, “I jus’ didn’t like how ‘e was feelin’ up on ya’, how’s that bein’ jealous?!”

“You’re getting all defensive.”

“When??”

“Right now?”

“I’m jus’ sayin’ I’m not!”

You couldn't help laughing, which made the man snarl. It was cute how obvious he made it. Observing his vulnerable side manifest itself in this way due to someone else? Johnny's jealousy wasn't anything you anticipated. He was a man who frequently showed little regard for the actions or words of others. However, it was a different story when it came to you. He seems a little uneasy when his family would speak to you. The man appeared to be extremely possessive of anything he so claimed as his.

“Come on now, you don’t have to be scared around me,” You spoke.

Johnny's cheeks had turned a delicate shade of pink. He rolled his eyes at your remark and scoffed while shaking his head. “I ain’t scared sunshine,” He replied with his smile coming back. “If I was, I wouldn’t have snuck into ya’ house.” Your eyes widened in shock as the man grabbed your arm and drew you up against him. “I wouldn’t tell ya’ righ’ now, that yer my girl.”

“You don’t have me just yet.”

“Oh, I don’t?” Johnny lifts your chin and lowers his face to meet yours only a few inches away. “But ya’ want me, no? Jus’ lookin’ at those eyes ya’ want me.” Your eyelids flutter closed as he rubs his nose against yours. He was well aware of the fact that he had you. “I’ll treat ya’ like a princess darlin’, I’ll spoil ya’ so rotten that ya’ can’t get enough of me. Cause I want ya’, I need ya’.”

If this was a way for Johnny to swoon you over, he sure was doing it. However, you were curious to see how much further he would swing. He draws back his head and lets go of your chin as you open your eyes in order to tuck a hair behind your ear.

“You should tell me more.”

“Really?” Johnny says as his brows begin to converge. When he senses your seriousness, he smirks and lets out a tiny chuckle. “I’d kill for ya’, I’d die for ya’, I’m sooo head over heels.”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’re so funny.”

“Amused?” He hums, making you giggle in response. In return, pleased by the remark, Johnny snorts. “Needy lil’ thing aren’t cha’? Makin’ me all soft.”

“I thought you were excited.”

“Cheeky lil’ brat ya’ are darlin’,” Johnny scoffs. “If I wasn’t I wouldn’t be so damn close! Y’know– I wouldn’t be talkin’ fa’ someone who’s so red in the face.”

“You’re just as flustered as me,” You roll your eyes. “You should’ve seen your face when you got all jelly~.”

“Eh– I wasn’t–... sh-shut up.”

“Make me~.”

Johnny's eyes appeared to be playing cat and mouse with you. As if it wasn’t the third or fourth time he licked his lips this evening. His teeth were exposed in a ferocious smile, giving him an almost feral appearance. “Oh I could– but actually, it probably wouldn’t shut ya’ up sweetheart.” He takes your hips, making you softly gasp. “You’d be loud– no you’d be screamin’ honey. I’d make sure of that– oh I’d make sure, the only thing on your mind is me~.”

Johnny made a sound of interest as you placed your hands on his chest. The excitement he felt then was much greater. The way his hands drew you in his direction and the way they tightly grabbed your hips caught you off guard. Once more lowering his head, Johnny first brushes his cheek against yours before moving his lips toward your ear. His hands shifted, reaching your waist.

“Is that what ya’ wanted ta’ hear? How I’ll make sure those legs of ya’s are shakin’ when I fuck ya’ good? Hm? How I’ll make ya’ cum, over, and over on my cock? I can only imagine.” Your body tenses up in response to his comments, and he grins as a result. “Feelin’ ya’ squirm under me. That cute lil’ pussy clenchin’ so tight you’ll make my head spin. Ohhh darlin’, I wanna feel ya’ nails diggin’ in my back as I take ya’. Inch. By. Inch~.”

A subtle sound came from you. Considering that it was subconscious, you weren't sure if it was a whimper or a moan. Your thighs drove together as you made an effort to hide the sudden jolts that surged up through your abdomen. He... really did have a way with words.

“Awwwe~. Are ya’ gettin’ excited now?” Johnny had moved his head away from yours, taking one good look at your reddened face. His tongue ran over the top row of his teeth as he took one good look at your body. The rise and fall of your chest, your gaze struggling to meet his, and the mere sight of your thighs clamping together. Heh. How could he not notice? “It looks like ya’ are.”

You were startled, or perhaps more accurately, flustered. In that instant, Johnny made you feel just how you'd imagined when you'd read about getting hot and bothered in books. You were completely in shock as you stared at the man with your mouth open and nothing coming out of it. How could you respond to that? Could you… even respond? Observing his every move while remaining motionless, nothing came out of your lips, not a single word.

“Gotta question for ya’ doll,” He said, glancing at the wall for a moment. “Don’t have ta’ be shy now, I know what ya’ want. How about ya’ come down ta’ the fields like we planned, yeah?”

You swallowed thickly, seeing as he removed himself from you entirely. What a damn tease. “Tomorrow?”

“Preferably,” Responded Johnny. “Or ya’ plans with pretty boy can go bye bye next Friday, and ya’ can spend it with me instead.”

“You're still on that?” You say with a raised brow. “How do you even know we made plans?”

He growled and clicked the roof of his mouth with his tongue, his eyes moving away from you. “I heard ya’.”

“Heard me? Or you were eavesdropping?”

You and Johnny exchanged looks, and that glare gave you all you needed to know. Let’s be real, it’s a little odd knowing that he had been spying on you, but seeing him jealous was like seeing a spoiled little boy now getting what he wanted.

Johnny’s eyes fluttered closed with a sigh, crossing his arms in defeat. “Y’know— you… I— yer really gettin’ on my nerves!”

“Good,” You say with a small smile. “And I’ll think about coming tomorrow.”

“Oh there’s no thinkin’ honeybee,” Johnny said with a mischievous smile. “I’ll make sure yer there, I’ll steal ya’ if I need ta’— hell! If it means I need ta’ kidnap ya’.”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“Maybe if ya’ wait long enough, you’ll find out~.”

Part 3 is up!! >>> RSSF PT.3

@optimsluv @chernayawidow @yixxes @marriedtoeddie

[yfere]

House MD's Stellar Wardrobe

I wrote this pretty much solely for @i-exist-solely-for-fandom, who has sucked me into watching the show again for the 10th, 12th, time! Shame on you!

Anyway! House MD in general excels with making characters feel real and distinct in all sorts of small, nuanced ways, but today let's talk about Clothes and what an amazing vehicle they are for characterization in this show -- how House MD as a show cares about clothing as a vehicle for personal expression more than most shows of its kind. Keep in mind that I am not by any means a fashion expert and a fashion expert would probably give you a much better and deeper analysis

The Big Three

1. House

I mean, this one is the most obvious one, but he is The Most Striking Example, intentionally so, of characterization communicated through wardrobe. The way he chooses to dress and the message it sends to others is the *first* subject of conversation he has in the show. He is literally introduced in the pilot as the doctor who refuses to wear a lab coat (like a doctor is supposed to) because he doesn't want to look like a doctor, the one with a cane that makes people mistake him for a patient, who is both combative towards authority and nonconforming in dress -- the perpetual scruff, the wild hair, the sneakers, either straight up t shirts or casual (un)buttoned shirts with the most tragically chewed-up collars and never-been-ironed wrinkles you have ever seen. He is disheveled, fairly irreverent in style, and what small nods he makes to business dress with slacks or an open suit jacket he is liable to withdraw at any time. It's not that he doesn't know how to clean up -- watch him on a date night or a charity event and he's as sharp as anyone could ask for -- but he prioritizes his own comfort and fun, and more importantly, is overtly contemptuous of authority markers in fashion. He wants to embody the janitor medical expert he met in Japan, he wants his being Right to supersede everything that would make him otherwise offputting or looked down upon. So he straddles the line between the sort of punk rock casual wear he favors and business casual, endures pleading from Wilson to please for the love of [Medicine] wear a tie to court, negotiates with Cuddy over fundraising dress, engages in epic power struggles with Vogler over the lab coat. And so on.

2. Wilson

Wilson, naturally, designed as he is to be House's odd couple counterpart, is fastidious, careful, and conventional in his appearance. He blow dries and styles his hair, uses a dry cleaner, wears his lab coat, tie, and a collection of basically decent but also fairly unimaginative shirts and slacks*. He's not actually very knowledgeable about fashion writ large (House can identify shoe brands, Wilson can only vaguely tell the difference between looking "nice" and not, and his version of dressing up is just wearing a different color shirt or tie) nor does he have a Style in the way that Foreman (the most couture character) does. In short, his wardrobe is very much lacking in personal investment and personality, as he tends to disinterestedly wear Standard Professional Attire. He's not stiff, though -- he is the only character whose natural state is with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, which besides his own personal comfort has the effect of making him seem warm, approachable, and down-to-earth. (and he is warm and approachable!) He keeps and can be more than once found wearing his McGill sweatshirt, which communicates his inclination to sentimentality as a character. He holds on to his university sweatshirt, he holds on to the toys and artifacts of all of his patients, he holds on to the little artifacts that Amber leaves behind. He self-flagellates by not wearing a coat. That's the kind of person he is, and it's indelibly also part of what he wears.

*a few of his ties are quite nice, but his failure to be nice consistently makes me doubt his ability to appreciate the bigger picture, frankly

3. Cuddy

The person who inspired me to start pontificating about wardrobe! Cuddy has her own brand of transgressive style, with a wardrobe that is an interesting meditation on her relationship with wielding power and authority. House makes fun of her for it excessively, but it is a fact that Cuddy does frequently delight in wearing the sexiest clothing possible, within the negotiable boundaries of professionalism. It's tasteful, confident, and very intentional -- this is a woman who through grit, tenacity and cleverness succeeded as the first and only female Dean of Medicine, the one holding the reputation of Princeton Plainsboro and House's leash in her hands. She's there to play fast and loose with the rules when she needs to, is confident and authoritative, and has nary a visible chink in her armor -- and all of this is bound up in and communicated through her dress. Her outfits say, "Don't worry, I'm not a stickler," at the same time they demand you take her seriously or fear for your life. Far be it from her to hide femininity -- rather, she revels in it, takes pride in her body, will happily wield attractiveness or discomfort like a cudgel, like any other tool. Who she is and what she looks like is everyone else's problem, to accept or reject (or, as they should, appreciate) -- she's just out having a ball with it. I imagine that this attitude towards fashion is one of the reasons she and House hit it off so well, though she is notably more flexible than House and will comfortably lean on both sides of the scale as the situation requires.

This is already quite long without me getting into any of the fellows, but I could!!! I definitely could

[a-drifting-mannequin]

Insolent: Chapter 4 (Finale)

Fandom: Sonic (MOVIE)

Pairings: Dr Eggman | Dr. Robotnik/Agent Stone; Stobotnik (reversed)

Warnings: Cuss words, bad description about what French kisses are supposed to look like

��Thank you, Agent.” Stone replied sweetly, like he always does, and turned his head just enough to smile at the agent. Robotnik still thinks that Stone was trying to get under his skin in the literal sense.

***

“Your coffee, Doctor.” Robotnik said as he gently placed down a cold Americano, placing just far enough from the doctor so if he wanted to spin around the way he sometimes does, the cup wouldn’t be knocked over.

Robotnik nodded once and backed away from where he was standing next to Stone, quickly returning to his desk to get some work done. Immediately, one of the doctor’s Pebbles – Robotnik named her Val – hovered over by his side and nudged him gently. The agent didn’t pay any attention to her at first, but eventually gave in and let her nuzzle him and lay in his lap.

It has been a month or two ever since their first day on the job together. Robotnik remained the way he did, face always set in neutral and scowling at the slightest inconvenience. But despite that, he did in his very best to assist Stone as it still remains an important part of his job. Organizing emails and paperwork, cleaning up after the doctor whenever he’s too absorbed in his experiments and doing routine maintenance on the drones.

Sometimes, during late nights working in the lab and none of them felt like retreating to their respective rooms for some rest, Robotnik would leave unprompted and return with bags full of snacks and food from the convenience store. Stone had scolded the agent for that on several occasions when it first happened, throwing out reasons that Robotnik could care less about. Eventually, Stone did accept a paper ramen bowl with melted cheese on top.

For the entirety of that night, the pair ate and watched a few movies that were largely recommended by the great doctor. Most were horror movies which made Robotnik run back to his room just to grab some pillows and two blankets: one for him and one for the doctor. Many things were spilled that day, and Stone was sure his Pebbles were frustrated with their shenanigans.

Stone could say he was warming up to the always cautious agent. It was already fun messing with him, but even that got boring quickly. He resorted to other tricks, however, such as asking his agent to fetch him something and then promptly abandoning it. Stone was pleased whenever he could draw out a frustrated sigh or a silent curse from him. Sometimes, Stone would give Robotnik the task of taking care of his plants, to which he failed at, and Stone had to take extra time out his day to teach him how to properly put dirt into a pot.

Today was little to no different. With an iced Americano in hand made by his trustworthy agent, Stone scrolled through government secrets and past projects that were left in the dark like it was a stroll in the park. Robotnik never bothered asking about them, seeming more interested in sharing more detail rather than keeping them. A quirk that Stone loved about this agent.

His silent research was interrupted when the sound of Robotnik’s heavy combat boots approached him in a controlled manner. Stone didn’t bother turning around as he continued to scroll through a sea of blacked out information that would be quickly revealed if he clicked on it.

“Doctor?” Robotnik called. From how loud Stone could hear his voice, he assumed that the agent was standing directly behind him.

The doctor didn’t make a move to respond.

Another minute of silence before Robotnik sighed heavily.

“I know you can hear me, Doctor.” The agent said, placing a hand on the back of Stone chair. “This is important, so I will beg and ask for your attention.”

Now that caught the doctor’s attention. Beg, he said? Stone wondered if he would actually do so.

With one easy movement to place his cup down, Stone spun around in his chair to face the annoyed agent. Hands tented, elbows placed on the arms of his chair, Stone spread his legs slightly to accommodate the agent who stood in between.

Robotnik reflectively flinched at the action, a dark blush coming to cover the tip of his ears. The hand that was previously placed on the back of his hand was still suspended in the air but was quickly placed behind his back after Robotnik realized how that looked like. Stone repressed a self-satisfied grin, eyes beckoning his agent to inform him about this important something.

“The commander has called for a meeting regarding where you’re putting all that tax money he gave you and something else the old man didn’t bother to specify.” Robotnik announced quickly, shoving the folder he was holding against Stone’s chest in an attempt to distract the doctor from eyeing the flush on his face.

Stone glanced down to where the folder was pressed. As always, it was yellow with a bright red stamp in the corner to indicate that it had been looked through and deemed suitable to be handed out. The tip of a paper being held inside by a gold-colored paper clip peeked out, making Stone raise an eyebrow.

Usually they wouldn’t bother sticking any additional notes into anything they gave him. Why now?

Taking the folder properly from his agent, Stone opened it like there was a miniature bomb inside waiting to be set off. Robotnik quickly removed himself from between the doctor’s legs, pulling out his shades where it was kept in his breast pocket and slipping it on his nose bridge.

“My blueprints are involved.” Stone said matter-of-factly, passing the clipped paper over to Robotnik to read.

Robotnik did as he was wordlessly instructed, brows furrowing at the information he was provided. Stone crossed his legs as he observed how a few different emotions flashed across Robotnik’s face, the light pink dusting his face now completely gone.

Confusion, surprise, another flash of confusion, a tad of frustration before settling on an expression that screamed ‘Why should I even care?’. How sweet of him.

Handing the paper back to Stone, Robotnik excused himself back to his desk to inform the commander about Stone’s attendance. The doctor watched him go and sighed, getting up from his own seat to change into something more appropriate for a presumably important budget meeting.

Throwing open his dresser, Stone skimmed over all the clothing he had available. From simple shirts and oversized hoodies to something that female celebrities often wore at Met Gala. Stone wondered when he’ll be able to wear such a thing.

Two drones entered his room with curiosity, clearly showing an eagerness in helping their father in picking a suitable attire for the day. Stone sighed affectionately, stepping out of the way for his two darlings to scan through the dresser they’ve seen more than a dozen times.

Outside, Stone could faintly hear the sound of something similar to waltz playing. He assumed Robotnik had turned it on to fill in the void of silence that he somehow couldn’t bear.

After another minute or two, his Pebbles – Iris and Siri (he wanted twin names for them) – returned to his side with a sunflower yellow turtleneck, matching French purple waist coat and dress pants and a white trench coat. Stone smiled at their attempt to pick out something bright for him in order to make him the center of attention. Stone gave both drones a kiss on their hull before retreating to his bathroom to change. Luckily, today’s weather had turned crisp last minute, which frustrated Robotnik because he hadn’t had the chance to buy a new coat.

Buttoning up his waist coat, Stone spun this and that way, admiring how his color choice could really trick people in think he wasn’t some prestigious asshole. He knew he would look like a sore thumb next to black and white formalities, but Stone could care less. At least he knew Robotnik wasn’t an exception from this due to his bright red dress shirt.

Hmmm… Maybe he could touch himself up a bit. Just for the fun of it.

With just a few steps, Stone sat down at the small vanity desk he was able to afford at a low enough price so it wouldn’t reach G.U.N.’s spending radar. Picking up an eyeshadow palate that he favored, Stone took exactly a minute to scan through all the colors before settling on a shimmery shade of heliotrope. At the very least, it’ll make his clothing less dull in a way.

Shrugging on the white trench coat after he was done touching up his makeup, the doctor took one last look of himself in the full length mirror he had, turning on his heel and checking if there were any visible wrinkle on his clothes. The ‘white’ trench coat complimented the turtleneck perfectly, making the coat looked more cosmic latte than white.

Stone sometimes wondered why he took psychology and then go out his way to learn about color theory (and memorize colors based on their shades).

Pulling on his chosen pair of footwear for the day – a pair of Oxfords with shiny golden laces – Stone exited his room with an air of confidence laced with the usually egotistic pride one might feel radiating off celebrities.

Robotnik was still sitting at his desk, blazer draped over the back of his chair while he checked on emails and organized the doctor’s schedule for the next upcoming days. Stone was almost concerned for the man’s lack of preparation for this assumingly important meeting.

“Let’s go, Agent. We wouldn’t want Walters waiting for much longer.” Stone sighed and pulled on gloves with a color that matched his coat, waiting for Robotnik to remove his ass from his chair. The sooner they arrive and leave, the better.

“I thought you never cared about these meetings, Doctor.” The agent didn’t even try to hide the grin on his lips, one hand coming up to smooth out his mustache. The damn shades are still on.

Stone wouldn’t try to defend his ego if he knew that Robotnik speaks the truth. Instead, the doctor rolled his eyes and stalked off to a desk pushed up against the wall, not too far off from his workbench.

Sat there, as always, was the display that held the assorted shades and optical lenses he had. The unmistakable sound of Robotnik shuffling out of his seat to stand behind Stone could be heard, but he would rather not dwell on why his agent would rather stand so close to him all the time.

After another moment of consideration, Stone plucked a pair of golden half rimmed glasses with lavender lenses, holding it up to the light before securing it on his nose bridge. Robotnik hummed from behind him, either out of judgement or approval, it didn’t really matter.

“Are we ready to go or not?” Stone asked sarcastically, watching his agent taking his sweet time putting on his blazer and smoothing out any creases. If he could, he would murder this man.

“Of course, Doctor.” Stone was almost familiar with the fact that Robotnik usually responded with short replies if he was feeling particularly antsy.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The halls were deafly silent. No lowly agents wandered the halls with either stacks of papers in their arms or a stale cup of coffee. White walls made the halls look like a maze, black tiles echoing each step back to the ones who caused it.

It felt almost claustrophobic.

Stone approached the dark double doors, hands shoved into his pockets and face set to neutral. Robotnik followed close behind him, one hand holding a journal with a tattered cover and a pen in the other. The elevator ride up to here was almost excruciating, silence enveloped the pair like a thick blanket making Stone almost want to scream. Luckily, he didn’t.

Robotnik quickly rushed ahead of Stone when they were close enough to the entrance, pushing open the doors for the doctor’s convenience. The room was already filled with people upon entering. Directors, generals and Commander Walters sat in chairs Stone assumed was assigned to them. Stone waved Robotnik off to stand behind him while he took his seat, rolling up the sleeves of his coat and leaning back more or less comfortably.

Commander Walters nodded once, stood up and began the introduction and opening, explaining the reason for everyone’s presence.

Stone was unfortunately not interested it what the old commander had to say, eyes eventually drifting off to stare at the far wall. Robotnik dutifully noted down anything and everything the doctor wasn’t listening to, occasionally eyeing Stone in case if he needed anything. Stone wished he had a reason to leave.

“Moving forward, I would like to apologize to Dr. Stone in advance.” Commander Walters announced in a rather pitiful tone, making Stone snap out his trance.

Apologize for what? And when had they ever apologize to him about anything?

Was it about the note they placed in?

Stone felt the need to sit straighter and more professional, not out of obligation but out of anticipation. Robotnik shuffled a little behind him.

“Doctor, we understand that you’ve been working on the commissioned piece for a month now.” Walters said, now turning to face him. "But the tides had changed."

This felt like it was his fault that the project had to be brought up. He had avoided everything to keep that a secret according to the said requirements from the government official that commissioned it.

Stone felt like it was Walters’s fault that he was here.

The doctor could hear his agent’s journal being closed shut and neatly placed back into his inner breast pocket. He could see out the corner of his eye the way Robotnik was fiddling with his pen. Robotnik was nervous but not in the way everyone else was. He was expecting something to happen, he already knew what would happen.

And still…still he brought Stone here.

Stone could feel his own body tensing up, feet planted firmly on the ground and ready to move at any moment.

“The project had been called off and any evidence of the project including the model and the blueprint should be discarded of. The sergeant who had requested the project had deemed it to be too dangerous and may be stolen for purposes that it was never intended for” Walters explained to him in a voice Stone couldn’t quite read. He still held a pitiful expression on his face. “So, in short, it’s no longer necessary for you to continue forward with it.”

Some generals sitting in the table hummed in acknowledgement, directors looked towards each other but not a single word was passed between anyone.

Without another second to lose, Stone slammed both of his hands down on the dark wooden table, stood up and stormed out the room without another word. Eyes trailed after him, their voice whispering judgement and despise. Commander Walters had the nerve to call after him but didn’t dare to follow him.

Stone could care less now. He didn’t have to care anymore. Make him waste a whole moth, working his ass off day and night just to ask him politely to burn it all?

And he thought he was the crazy one.

The doctor quickly adjusted his glasses before he continued stalking down the fairly empty hall of G.U.N.

His steps echoed but never lasted long, his hand were in fists tightly by his side, nails digging half-moons into the meat of his hands. Even if Stone wanted to stop for just a moment to check if his makeup was smeared or if anyone had accidently stepped on the tail of his coat, he couldn’t find it in him to stop. 

“Those goddamned idiots.” Stone muttered to himself, his strides becoming longer and quicker. “’It’s not necessary’ they say. As if they’re the doctor.” He was sure he could hear his teeth being grind against each other in his skull.

“I’m going to kill someone.” Stone wished that was true, that he was speaking his own intentions out loud. But considering the many false report of ‘workplace harassment’ he had received, Stone was forced to play nice and by the rules.

Quickly turning the corner, the tension burning in his shoulders wore off disquietingly fast as he slumped against the wall, leaning back heavily against the surface behind him. Stone just knew there would be stains on his clothes that he would have to scrub off himself.

“Now I can take a quick break.” He muttered to himself, gloved hand rustling around in his pocket for his stress relief.

Stone almost forgot he would often shove full pack of cigarettes into all his coats just in case. However, the box he pulled out was already half empty, all the sticks leaning to one side of the box. Stone pulled out one and placed it between his lips before shoving the box back in his pocket, absentmindedly sucking on the shred of nicotine while looking for his lighter.

The lighter he pulled out was a fancy little thing, with a spider lily in the front while a series of butterflies covered the back. He couldn’t properly remember where and when he got it, but the feeling of pride upon seeing it never really lost its spark.

Unfortunately, looks doesn’t always account for ability. Stone thought the lighter could still be used, but after trying to ignite his cigarette it was clear that this one hasn’t been refilled yet.

“Fucking…Stupid lighter.” He tried a few more time, already understanding his efforts were futile but desperation said otherwise.

Just as he went to try again, a black gloved hand appeared in front of his and pulled his cigarette away. “Apologies, sir, but smoking is not permitted inside.” The person who pulled his cigarette away said, voice smooth and controlled.

Great. Just what he wanted to hear.

Suddenly his anger was hitting at full force again, making his skin feel clammy and hot inside his trench coat. He was heating up too fast, the turtleneck and the coat barely seemed necessary anymore.

“Hey! Do you know who I- Oh.” Stone immediately stopped mid-sentence, anger dissipating into a bubbling mess in his brain. “It’s you.” The recognition was deadpanned at best.

There stood beside him was Robotnik, his agent-slash-assistant-slash-personal bodyguard, someone he never asked for. Although both of their attire looked relatively professional, Stone could tell that the older man was more put together than him, showing an air of calmness that he absolutely despised whenever he was mad. The agent held the stick of nicotine between his fingers – his index and thumb – gently, clearly not having any intentions of crushing it or tossing it away. Stone adjusted his glasses to sit on top if his head, one hand subconsciously running through his hair in an attempt to tame it.

“Stand down, Agent. Give me back my cigarette and leave.” Stone sighed and looked away, holding out his hand with the expectation of his cigarette being immediately placed there.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir.” Robotnik stated, spinning the cigarette so it sat neatly in his fist instead of being held loosely by his fingers. Stone gritted his teeth at the empty apology, shoulders tensing up again. He really needs a big, fat break after all of this was over.

“I said…” Stone started, glaring daggers at the man beside him. “Give me it!” Stone wouldn’t say he failed at his only attempt at getting his cigarette back, he had just been a bit rusty.

The cigarette was moved away from him in one quick motion, almost making the doctor tripped over himself. A self-satisfied smirk laid comfortably on Robotnik’s lips as he stared down at his boss. The nerve of this agent.

Dignity be damned, he needed his cigarette. As soon as Robotnik decided to use his height advantage and raise the cigarette above his head, Stone quickly latched on and reached out on his tiptoes in hopes being able to take the cigarette back.

“Just give it to me! I am your superior!” Stone commanded though he knew it wouldn’t work. Shame might as well swallow him up and leave no trance behind after this.

“Nope, can’t.” Robotnik chuckled low in his throat, grinning down at his superior’s fruitless attempt at taking back what was his. “I am here to keep you safe and healthy, even from yourself.” Robotnik knew he wasn’t permitted to actually make sure the doctor didn’t burn himself out, but it felt nice to fool around a little.

Stone grunt with effort as he reached as high as he could, almost regretting not wearing platform shoes if he knew something like this would happen. He grabbed onto Robotnik’s lapel in attempt to pull him down. The agent didn’t budge. A weight Stone didn’t realize was there settled on the small of his back, holding him up against the agent with little to no force. No doubt Robotnik was trying to feel him up or mock him silently.

Stone diverted his attention back to the smug face of his agent, knowing the taller man probably felt full of himself at the moment. Robotnik smiled down at him, a false sense of calmness and a tinge of mischief lacing his stare.

After engaging in that short and momentary staring contest, Stone cheered to himself as he could finally reach up high enough and grab hold of his cigarette. Robotnik kept his expression neutral, as if too in denial about his defeat. At least that little game was over.

“Well, forgot those orders for now.” Now it was Stone’s turn to smile mockingly at his agent, relief spreading over him in small waves. “I don’t need a baby- “Stone smiled to himself, opening his palm to hold his cigarette in a way he would much prefer. “sitter…”

Laid in his hand was not, in fact, the cigarette he was hoping to see. Thick paper stick, round and wrapped in plastic at the top, a cartoonish grape image plastered to its sides: a lollipop. He grabbed a lollipop.

Stone frowned at the sight of the sweet in his hand, the previous wave of relief already doing its job at eliminating any remaining frustration in his body. He did not want to put up with anymore of this.

“Something wrong, Doctor?”

The doctor cautiously glanced over his employee, witnessing him placing his cigarette between his own lips but making no move to ignite it. His eyes were casted to the floor, pointedly avoiding the doctor’s own bewildered expression. Stone couldn’t bring himself to punch his agent across the face, purely because he could feel his social battery draining.

“I heard lollipops were healthier.” The mocking tone didn’t escape Stone. Rather, it gave him a little energy boost knowing he would have to take his cigarette back one way or another. The fact that Robotnik even had the nerve to state that lollipops were healthier than cigarettes almost made him scoff. They’re equally unhealthy, in Stone’s opinion.

Though, that comment did give him an idea.

With a barely suppressed grin spreading across his face, Stone quickly strided over to Robotnik with newfound motivation. Robotnik must’ve noticed his change in mood as a neutral expression settled over his smug one from before.

Without a second to react, Stone grabbed ahold of Robotnik’s lapels firmly, tugging the taller man down to eye level. A nearly pathetic noise of surprise escaped Robotnik, but Stone decided to dwell on that later. The manic doctor surged forward and was immediately met with soft lips.

Robotnik was reasonably shocked, several questions racing in his head from his boss’s sudden course of action.

Stone harshly bit the agent’s bottom lip in order for him to open his mouth. And open he did. He wasted no time plunging his tongue into the more or less welcoming invitation, forcing himself to explore Robotnik’s mouth if he really did want his plans to go the way it needed to be execute. Stone mentally tucked away a complain about his agent not being a good kisser.

Robotnik’s mustache tickled his upper lip. Stone nearly wanted to abandon his mission when the sudden realization that he was practically exchanging saliva with his agent, but determination could get you far. Stone hate to admit it, but Robotnik’s lips were softer than he expected. This old man must have a real complicated skin care routine.

Even without Robotnik vocally addressing the situation, Stone knew they were both running out of breath. He didn’t need to prolong this anymore; he got his cigarette secured in his mouth already. But, with how his agent was treating him a few minutes ago, Stone supposed he could indulge in a little teasing.

The unexpected kiss felt like it lasted for an eternity, though in reality, it only had been a minute or two at best. Stone forced them apart, pushing Robotnik back while he still had his iron grip on the agent’s lapels. A thin string of saliva was the only remaining evidence of their intimate exchange.

The look that beheld him was almost laughable if shame wasn’t gripping by his neck. Robotnik’s glasses were crooked, nearly falling off his face. Not a hair out of place, but Stone could see how his cheeks were tinted red and the wrinkled that he had left on his lapels. His lips looked kiss bruised, an evident swollenness on his bottom lip from when Stone bit him. Robotnik looked, to put it simply, disheveled.

“Never think you can outsmart me, Agent.” Stone said confidently, adjusting the cigarette in his mouth. “Got it? Dismissed.” He would’ve stayed for the reaction, but the taste of nicotine in his mouth reminded Stone of his much-needed stress relief.

****

Robotnik could admit he wasn’t thinking straight. Ever since he started working for the doctor, he had to come to terms with things he hated to admit to himself.

But this was different.

Did the doctor just kiss him? Was that an elaborate plan or was the doctor doing it for fun?

Even with his high IQ, Robotnik couldn’t fully wrap his head around the matter.

Dr. Stone kissed him. On the lips. With tongue.

Oh god, is he going insane now?

For a moment, Robotnik just stood there, replaying and analyzing the kiss in his head. He tried to not let his mind wander into dangerous waters, but it seemed like, even if it was his own brain, it still would.

All he intended to do was fool around. He doesn’t really care if his doctor did drugs much less smoke. Robotnik never intended for a little teasing to end up like that.

Heat spread across his cheek, bloomed in his chest and making his body felt like an overheating oven. His shoulders tensed up, legs suddenly feeling weaker than they were a few minutes ago.

Placing both hands on his face, Robotnik backed up against the wall and slumped down, accepting the fact that he had to sit on cold dirty tiles. He could feel his blazer riding up his back. Robotnik let out a sigh, his emotions unclear and scrambling in his mind.

Glancing down at the weight that was slowly making itself noticeable in his hand, the agent noticed the lollipop that the doctor had grabbed laid in his palm still wrapped.

Robotnik huffed and unwrapped the candy, eyes never quite focusing on the action he was carrying out. Who knew that he would receive a first kiss at this age, much less from his employer as well?

The artificial grape flavor did little to ease his shame and worry. The candy was sweet, sure, but the flavor of it almost made Robotnik threw it away if he wasn’t so in need of a distraction.

Tilting his head back against the wall, Robotnik propped on of his knees up and rested his arm on top. Not a single thought floated by his brain until the telltale sound of the conference room’s doors opening up could be heard.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Waaaaaaah, I'm finally finished with this! Oh god I'm so tired

Anyways, hope y'all liked the fic! Be sure to check out the original creator's work because this AU isn't mine but I decided to write a silly fic about it

Link to the original post that inspired chapter 4

[roboj0e]

Wade would bully Peter bc someone said he would and wrote it happening and bc y'all are so boring and annoying. Fanfiction isn't about what's canon or strictly in character thats why they're called transformative works. I think y'alls weird obsession with what's cannon while also trying to heavily police what and how ppl make fiction is honestly been the death of fandom and creativity.

There hasn't been a large scale cross over in fandom in years that either wasn't completely ironic or torn down by bullies that it fizzled out bc y'all don't know how to have fun. Even that recent debate over how sans would react to his brother death is further proof of y'all's lack of understanding of interpretation and fan works. Fanwork are supposed to exist in the reality of the fiction of the person who wrote it. NOT what IS the right interpretation bc there are NO right interpretation except for what is made canon which can be anything bc WE aren't the creators.

Who cares what happens in the comics. The comic themselves don't care what happens in other comic runs unless it's specifically meant to be a spin off/continuation.

Wade is SUPPOSED to be a morally ambiguous character. I know y'all have washed him of all the ambiguity bc ppl have told you that how ur supposed to approach fiction and y'all can not perceive a protag who might not be the best person who ur also NOT supposed to hate (god forbid a protag not have Jesus adjacent morality) but thats what he is. He'll do whatever anyone wrote him doing bc he's not real and also anything thats morally ambiguous or toxic bc that's one of his character traits and what was supposed to set him apparent from other heros he's not even a hero he's an antihero. I can not believe y'all are moralizing something as tame as bullying. Bullies making up with their victims happens in DISNEY movies now y'all tryna make that into some problematic take. OMG. And this is from someone who WAS bullied briefly until I learned how to fight and stand up for myself.

Thinking that someone who romanticizes something morally wrong couldn't have possibly been through that experience is the direct antithesis of fiction. It also makes no sense. Plenty of ppl write from experience but also sometimes turning it into a story in which they control how they interact with a bully does A LOT FOR REGAIN CONTROL OF THOSE NEGATIVE EXPERIENCES. STOP TRYING TO SUS OUT WHO HAS TRAUMA OR NOT. also STOP thinking that you are an authority of certain traumatic experiences you aren't every experiences are very VERY personal and the portrayal of those experiences should have NOTHING to do with yours bc there is NO way to encapsulate all lived experiences. And even if someone hasn't been bullied who cares again decenter yourself from a fictional scenario that should in now way be a representation of you bc u are not the center of the universe.

(THIS SECTION UNDERNEATH IS MY HEAD CANON U DONT HAVE TO TELL ME U DONT LIKE AGE GAPS IDC)

Secondly wade only wouldnt bully Peter TO ME bc I'm not a teenager in highschool like some of y'all and highschool fics don't interest me and wade to me shouldne even be in highschool and always be the much older one in the dynamic. They shouldnt even be near the same age for me. But whatever floats ur boat. You can do whatever you wan't but when y'all make these long posts telling OTHER ppl what they can and can't do OR how you think YOUR interpretation of the character is the most right your crossing a line frl.

Edit: I read both Deadpool and spiderman comics btw plus the very wonderful spiderman/Deadpool run. GASP I know someone who likes the source material but doesn't adhere strictly to it bc I actually have an imagination and like to have fun instead of kissing marvels feet and remaining in a narrow interpretation of a character. A rare breed I guess.

Edit edit: I also think alot of y'all have a very romcom take on spideypool. And thats definitely fine love my fair share of fluff. But I have a much more complicated take on them. Again I think an age gap compliments these complications. It adds to an imbalanced perspective of both of them towards each other. I'm also very uninterested in a spideypool that grow healthy together or peter "fixing" wade. I want them to overcomplicate their relationship but for it to also be a healthy balance of comedic and fun and hot monkey sex that keeps them interested in a less than perfect relationship. A sorta push and pull from both sides.

[alzilla09]

I Just Don't Get the Serena/AmourShipping Hate... (Please, Let's Stop)

Okay, I need to get this off my chest. I genuinely don't understand the intense hate directed towards Serena and AmourShipping. Plus it’s getting really really old!

Serena is one of my absolute favorite Pokémon characters. Her journey of self-discovery, her determination, and her unwavering support for Ash? It's all so inspiring! She's kind, talented, and her growth throughout XY/XYZ was phenomenal.

And AmourShipping? It's just...adorable.

The way they connected, the subtle hints, the clear affection they had for each other? It was so sweet and genuine! I loved watching their relationship develop.

So, why the hate? Why the constant negativity? I've seen:

* People saying she's "clingy" when she was supportive.

* People saying she's "boring" when she had a fantastic character arc.

* People saying AmourShipping is "forced" when it was built up naturally.

* And just general, mean-spirited comments that are just... unnecessary.

It honestly makes me so sad. Like, can't we just enjoy what we love? Why does it have to be a constant battle? I don't understand why people feel the need to tear down something that brings others joy.

I love Serena. I love AmourShipping. And seeing so much hate makes me feel like I can't even express that without being attacked.

It's undeniable that every fandom has its share of… passionate individuals. And yes, that includes the Pokémon community. While I acknowledge that some Serena and AmourShipping fans can be, shall we say, a bit intense, it's also crucial to recognize that this behavior isn't exclusive to them.

Here's the thing: Every other PokéGirl and every other Ash ship has its own vocal and sometimes toxic supporters. Yet, the spotlight of criticism seems to disproportionately shine on Serena and AmourShipping. This creates an unfair and frankly, exhausting dynamic.

Instead of focusing on the negativity, let's explore a more productive approach:

* Acknowledge the positive: Every PokéGirl and every ship has its merits. Let's celebrate what we love about each character and pairing, rather than fixating on their perceived flaws.

* Promote respectful dialogue: Instead of engaging in heated debates, let's strive for respectful conversations. We can express our preferences without tearing down others' favorites.

* Encourage creative expression: Let's channel our passion into positive outlets like fanart, fanfiction, and thoughtful discussions. Let's create content that celebrates the characters and ships we love.

* Recognize the diversity of opinions: Fandoms are diverse spaces with a wide range of perspectives. Let's respect those differences and avoid generalizations.

* Call out toxic behavior, regardless of the target: If we see toxic behavior, regardless of who it's directed at, let's call it out. Let's create a culture where everyone feels welcome and respected.

* Focus on what brings us joy: At the end of the day, fandoms are supposed to be fun. Let's prioritize the aspects that bring us joy and minimize our exposure to negativity.

* Understand that it’s fiction: It is a cartoon, and these are fictional characters. It’s okay to have opinions, but it is not okay to attack people over a cartoon.

Let’s try to remember that we are all fans of the same franchise, and we should be able to enjoy it without being attacked for our preferences.

Let's shift the narrative from negativity to positivity, from division to unity. Let's create a fandom where everyone feels welcome and respected, regardless of their favorite PokéGirl or ship.

[mercurygray]

Blind Dates 2025: Reputed

Well, this was half a Blind Date and half of a character study on Bill, but I had fun with it and that's what counts! Everyone go read the rest of the @blind-dates-fest characters! Fandom: SAS: Rogue Heroes (spoilers for s2) Word Count: 3,285

-

Wars, his father used to say, are fought by soldiers but won by plans.

Bill Stirling knew in his heart that his father was correct - Brigadier General Archibald Stirling was something of an expert on these things - but the reassurance still weighed very little against the actual doing of the thing, and if Bill had to sign another requisition in triplicate authorizing the removal or reorganization or re-upping of whatever to wherever he was quite sure he was going to throw something.

No one became a soldier to fill out paperwork - and yet here here he was, and paperwork seemed to be all he had.

Bill could remember far too many conversations along these lines in Cairo, David ranting over his whiskey while Peter only laughed. "Well it's all right for you, you're at the damn embassy," David accused. "What is the point of being in a fucking war if there's not going to be any fucking fighting?" And then Peter would say something else inflammatory and David would pull back his chair and Bill would move the bottles and the glasses and suggest they all go home if they were only intent on breaking things.

That was the way of it, with older siblings, despite whatever anyone might say to the contrary - always negotiating, always second. Older brothers were supposed to take the high road and let their younger brothers have their way - to let them be the first to chose the game and first to say when they were finished, first to chose sides and first to declare winners. They’re little, the nursemaid would say, as David took the biggest cookie and Peter the biggest sandwich and Hugh the better tennis racquet, even though he was only four and couldn’t yet play. They don’t know better, he was told, even when Hugh came crying back with the racquet, broken now, and wondering why he could not make the ball go as far as Bill had.

And Bill would have to let it go. Older brothers were supposed to pick up whatever got put down and make it work again - clockwork toys and regiments, both.

So here he was, in Bagnara, still fixing David's toys, and dealing with all the other nonsense that his brother had never bothered with because in his world wars were not for paperwork or plans. Never mind that he'd had his own ambitions, his own selected trajectory, the things that he might call his own and mean it. David and Hugh wanted glory, and Peter wanted power, and Bill wanted - Bill wanted purpose, what he'd had at Inverailort. The trainings he'd lead, the soldiers he'd selected and honed like their fighting knives, ready to go silently back into their sheath until the time was at hand to let them loose. The purpose of the organization to which you and I belong is subversion.

Bill took a deep breath and looked around him at the remains of the German guard post, noting the blood spatters, the ripped clothes and gouged eyes. There was nothing subversive about this, nothing subtle - these were the wild dogs of war that his brother had so boasted about. Blood and destruction shall be so in use, and dreadful objects so familiar that mothers shall but smile when they behold their infants quarter'd with the hands of war.

Paddy Mayne would have appreciated the Shakespeare, he thought - the man seemed to have a poetic tag for everything. Including women, perhaps? Bill glanced down the road at the approaching car, reviewing the approach to his next problem.

"Let's try and avoid relaying any idle gossip about mad men and savages to anyone," he said to the officer next to him, carefully watching the woman in the back seat, the sun glinting on her glasses and the bright silk of her scarf. "Especially not her. She's a journalist and a spy."

"No, sir. Of course not, sir." Greville-Bell took a deep breath of his own, and then asked, almost hesitating as he considered the jeep that was now approaching. "How do you know she's a spy, sir?"

The question almost made Bill laugh. Because no woman comes here openly who isn't looking for something. Because I've been told so, by men I can trust. Because it takes one to know one, and that's what I am, too. "Call it a hunch, Lieutenant," Stirling said, and offered no further information, letting the other officer return to the duties he'd just been assigned while he carefully combed his hair down with his fingers and adjusted his shirt - a little movement she was sure to see from the back seat of the jeep. Here was his role today - the less polished older brother, trying to impress the pretty girl who'd captured his brother's eye. "Ah, Miss Mansour. Lieutenant Colonel Bill Stirling. 2SAS. We missed each other in Sicily."

"You mean you avoided me and ignored my request for an interview." The Frenchwoman exited the jeep with a sense of urgency, hardly paying any attention to Bill as she glanced around the guard post, taking note herself of the bodies splayed here and there whose pockets were still being investigated by his intelligence officers.

Straightforward - he'd expected that. "I don't really do interviews. Rather busy fighting a war."

"I knew your brother in Cairo," she said, casually, like that was going to bait him into something.

"Yes," Bill said, squaring his shoulders as if with some annoyance, "and because he is my brother, he told me absolutely nothing about you."

One got territorial, in a house full of brothers - of dreams and possessions both. As they got older and learned the laws of property, the matter of my book and my dog and my gun became more distinct, and each distinction borne on the back of another slight and another fight and another bruised eye, until they all learned to be more sly in their counterattacks.

Bill could still remember the time David had ‘borrowed’ (his word) one of his golf clubs, the one that he knew he’d said once had a better drive, and chipped the finish, and he, in a fit of revenge, swept in before his brother could get a word in edgewise and asked the girl he knew David was sweet on for a dance at the club that evening. (There were some advantages to being older, when the cards were down, and being slightly taller and slightly more sophisticated and slightly more practiced in the ways of women were several.) David got a little more circumspect about sharing his feelings on women with his brothers after that, though there was nothing to be done to hide the many tells that Bill had learned from twenty years of careful observation.

That had been the start of his career in intelligence. The first way you must fight your enemy is by knowing him - his secrets, his vulnerabilities, his habits and his patterns. Careful intelligence is the first step in a successful campaign, and you must not begin your work without it.

He denied her requests in the most polite terms, watching as her expression turned more and more stormy seeing he would not let her go where she desired. "Your brother really didn't tell you anything about me," she said, finally, staring at him with a stony face.

Oh, no, Bill thought to himself, his smile invisible behind his annoyance and his rules and strictures, walking away and leaving her at the post. When he was completely unlike himself, he told me absolutely everything - and I will use that against you in whatever way I can.

What he did or said now, he knew, would matter very little - Eve Mansour would do whatever she was going to do, and there was nothing he could do to stop her. His opposition was a matter of formality only - a way to continue playing the role she'd assigned him. Other things required his time and attention and he would use those precious resources where they would do the most good. There were reports to review in his command post, maps to consult and plans to relay to Paddy Mayne, who was last seen hiking into the hills with his men to find, in his own words, a quieter place.

Bill collected his dispatches, checked in with his signals officer, and walked into the tent his men had erected as a command post ...only to find something there that he had completely failed to anticipate - a woman in her late twenties, wearing a faded black housedress, a handkerchief over her hair, and a man's jacket with thinning elbows, perfectly at her ease behind his desk.

"Good Christ!"

She looked up from her reading with a slight smile, pleased, it seemed, to be so discovered. "You know, if this is your idea of security, I shudder to think what the Germans are getting away with."

Her amusement annoyed him. "What are you doing here?"

Another smile. "I should have thought that was obvious. I'm reading your mail."

"Not that, what are you doing here?" The last time I saw you was in Scotland. "The security of the organisation," she said, smiling as she quoted one of his own lectures back to him, "as a whole depends on the security of individual agents. No member will be told more about the organisation than is necessary for him to do his job." He allowed her that small coup and remained silent. "I love the smell of sand and water," she said, rising from her seat and waiting for him to return the pass phrase - the one from their final assignment, the test to see if they were fit for the field. If he didn't know her, it would have mattered more - but she was doing as she'd been taught, and there was beauty in that. "But heather and stone is equally fine."

She nodded, niceties satisfied. "I've been up in the hills near Santa Christina making friends for the last year and a half. A little bird told me the British had finally landed."

"And you thought you'd just...come into an army camp alone for a little chat, hoping you knew someone?" The next line of the manual was near at hand: No member will attempt to find out more about the organisation than he is told.

"Italy is full of widows. No one notices a woman in black. And I had a good teacher."

"Grace," Bill warned.

The sound of her name - her real name - brought only the briefest flash of recognition, covered a moment later by practiced confusion with a touch of anger, and he realized that he had broken one of his own rules, drummed religiously into his students. The agent must not mention facts which he himself is not supposed to know. Sixteen months in the field - when, he wondered, had someone last called her that? Who here now would know that she had once belonged to the name? That was part of the training at Inverailort, to give up your name in place of a new one, a series of costumes and disguises that could be picked up and shed at the blink of an eye.

He could remember sitting behind a long table in the Great Hall, reading the dossier of the woman standing in front of them. Women's Royal Naval Service. Place of Residence, Margate. Parents occupation given as shopkeeper - place of birth, Campagna. Emigrated 1921. Fluent in Italian. Spadolo, Maria ...Grazia. The way his fellow lecturer read it aloud grated on the ear, and she quickly corrected him. "I've always gone by Grace, sir. No one can pronounce Grazia."

Already an alias, something to hide behind. A woman of no particular importance or charm, the sort you saw at shop counters and bus stops who only came to your attention if you were allowed a smile. Practically invisible - just the sort we need. Lynx, who was Benedetta, who was Livia Tormola, who was Ordinary Wren Grace Spadolo, from Margate.

A woman, he could see, who after more than a year in the field knew far too well how much all those names could protect her, the desperate necessity of the pass phrase. "Mi scusi, signore. Mi dispiace di averla offesa, ma il mio nome non è Grace." She pronounced the words quickly, as though she did not understand English, as she'd been taught to do in Scotland in case someone stopped her. "È Livia." He pursed his lips, a silent sign that he knew he'd been in the wrong. "The little bird also had orders for me to establish contact with you specifically - and with your man in the Etna circuit - Brutto. He's been out of radio contact and I have papers for him before he goes into Termoli - and updated intelligence."

"Intelligence?"

"A new brief. They have an leak. Someone's passing information to the authorities, and we need it stopped before you take the city. The man's clever, but only just. We have his name and he needs to be removed. Can you call him in?"

He had nearly opened up the flap of his tent to call for an orderly when he remembered security. "Someone could see you. You've no reason to be here. Your cover - "

She shrugged. "Italy is full of widows - and everyone knows soldiers will pay for anything." She chuckled at his shock that she'd even think to suggest that as a cover for her presence. "Surely Lieutenant Colonel Stirling is allowed a little vice." Her smile was soft and mischievous - the same smile he remembered from Scotland when she'd done particularly well on an assignment, outplayed the traps that other trainees had fallen into. Shopgirls from Margate knew more about how the world worked than debs who'd learned their Italian from nuns. "Perhaps it would help your reputation among your men."

"Livia." He remembered himself this time, using the name he was supposed to use.

"That is your cover now, isn't it? The ...unassailable commander?" Another one of her soft smiles. "Men talk an awful lot when their captains aren't listening. The man they were describing wasn't the one I knew in Scotland, who knew how to smile and take a joke."

He recalled the particulars of the lecture on covers - The story, being real, will be self-consistent. Records will confirm at least part of it. However, people acquainted with the person whom you are impersonating may give you away. "Inflexible martinets can't be seen with widows. Especially pretty ones."

"And pretty journalists?" Her amusement was almost infectious. "I saw some of your performance down at the harbor - the bit with the hair was quite good. Who is she, really?"

" Another spy - and my brother's lover." He sighed. "I didn't give her what she wanted, so I'm sure she'll be back later to try again."

"To seduce you?"

He considered Eve's bright scarf and stylish hat, a strong contrast to Grace's workaday dress and worn-down flats, gritty with dust from the road. No one had driven her to Bagnara - unless it had been on the back of a donkey cart. And the ways of her war were quite different to Eve's. But then, they'd had different teachers. "Most likely. She seduced David. Why should his older brother be any different?"

"He didn't tell her anything about you, then."

"No," he said, smiling as he did so. "He didn't tell anyone."

His mind was made up. He strode over to the tent flap, opened it wide, and didn't care at all when his batman turned around and saw a woman in the shadows of the tent. "Lofty, where is Sergeant Riley? I want to catch him before he goes."

Lofty's eyes were politely wide. "I think he's up at 1SAS, sir. Something about rum."

Paddy Mayne's 'quiet place' was some ten minutes out of town, amidst a tumbled-down farmhouse that had quickly been turned into a slapdash camp, supplies and packs tossed where their owners had found level ground.

Only McDiarmid stood up when he saw them approaching, snapping his heels together with a great goofy grin on his face and saluting with parade ground polish from underneath a very non- uniform issue fedora. "Lieutenant Colonel Bill, sir! Boots still in tip-top shape, I see." His gaze moved on to Grace beside him - the bedraggled but still winsome Italian farmwife, her kerchief tucked into her pocket after it had nearly blown away in the jeep, dark curls escaping their pins. "And you brought a friend. Well, hello, sweeting, and who are you?" He stroked a piece of hay off of her coat collar. "Bill showing you a nice time?"

It was like something out of a training script- in less time than it took to breathe, she had seized his hand, and wrenched his arm around behind his back, to the absolute awe of everyone who'd seen it, her English perfect and unmistakable - "Touch me again, trooper, and you'll lose more than your shirt."

The men were staring, and Bill had a hard time keeping his well-deserved smile to himself. "This is Livia Tormola, one of our operatives here in Italy." She let McDiarmid go, and the big man stepped quickly away, flexing his fingers. "She's here to speak to Riley."

"Where the fuck did you learn to do that, girl?" Jock was nursing a sore wrist and an even more sore ego.

Grace scoffed. "On my combatives course, the same as you." She glanced over at Bill, a slight smile creeping to her lips. "Colonel Stirling was an excellent teacher for hand-to-hand gutter fighting."

All eyes turned to tall, weedy Lieutenant Colonel Stirling, who was not his brother and had, as far as they were aware, stolen no glory, thrown no bombs and killed no men. What else has this man done that we are unaware of? What reputations have we not seen?

Paddy's sneered retort in the prison bathroom, the angry glint in his one unbattered eye as the two of them squared off, the dirty decorated brawler and the shiny lord's son - As far as I'm aware, you don't have a reputation.

How he'd wanted to smile then, staring down his brother's mad dog. No, Major Mayne, you are right. I am known for nothing. I am not my father, who was known for plans, and I am not my brother, who is known for daring, and I am not you, Paddy Mayne, who is feted for madness and swift rage. My reputation is only among those who trained with me and to them I was a good liar and a ghost and a knife in the dark, and I taught them all to be the same.

I am completely unknown to you - and that is just as I want it, because that means I will be whatever I allow you to see of me - the older brother, put upon for command, eclipsed and overlooked and angry about it, a man who has earned none of what he has, a wall to bash your fists against.

That is what my brother has told me you require to win, so that is exactly what I will be for you. For myself, I am someone else entirely.

And that's just as I've planned it.

---

Any errors in Grace's Italian are entirely mine and Duolingo's. The manual Grace and Bill are quoting is the SOE Operations Manual from the course at Beaulieu, which you can read online at archive.org.

A big thank you to the several friends who let me complain about this for the last two weeks and wrote me permission slips.