#bc i already have portions written and i know where it's all going!!!

[blindmagdalena]

Eat Your Ego, Honey ( Ch 8 )

homelander x oc 18+  escort services, sex work, voyeurism, stalking, Homelander in general. see ao3 link for detailed tags. chapter index. check out the playlist!

chapter summary: After the disastrous spectacle that was Homelander's birthday celebration, America's "disgraced" hero is forced to reconcile with the demons in his head, and what that means for Layla, the woman standing precariously in their path.

additional tags: unhealthy/codependent dynamics, threats of violence, themes of abuse, canon deviation. 🖤

Sleep is a scarcity. Homelander fades in and out of consciousness, but he never truly rests. It’s strange to sleep somewhere he can't see the comfort of his own gaze endlessly mirrored back at him. Those mirrors make the world so much bigger, but for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t mind how small it is. What would normally be a dark, claustrophobic thing is now a great deal safer than the open expanse of a stage.

Layla’s warmth and the faint weight of her arm around him is the only thing that keeps him somewhat tethered. Her heartbeat is a steady metronome against his back, her breaths warmly ghosting over his neck and shoulder. It’s been hours, but it feels too soon when the covers move on his skin as she readjusts in her sleep, pulling her arm from him. He lifts the blanket and rolls to face her. 

She’s turned away from him, her dark hair fanned out in a wild splay on the pillow beneath her. Light from the unsleeping city spills in through the window, illuminating her figure. It’s strange to see her sleeping in day clothes and not the sleepwear he’s used to seeing her in. She didn’t have the time to change tonight. She was too busy taking him back into her arms, into her bed, into her life. He brushes his knuckles down between her shoulder blades, the disheveled silk of her blouse soft beneath his fingers.

He’ll find out why Starlight’s scent is lingering on her when she wakes.

Sliding closer to her, he flattens his palm over her hip and noses at the line of her throat, inhaling deeply, chasing the scent beneath shampoo and lotion until he finds what’s simply her. Her wine flush has followed her into sleep, her skin warmer than usual. She responds to his touch with a sleepy sigh of pleasure. Even now, the sound of her voice does so much to quiet the storm in his heart. He screws his eyes shut and buries his face into the soft tresses of her hair, gritting his teeth against the urge to squeeze too tight. 

The urge to keep. 

The urge to break it all apart and let the storm rage. Instead, he keeps himself perfectly still, trying to swallow the thrumming energy coiling in his tense muscles. End this, the darkness in him hisses, tempting him. How many days has he resisted the urge to reach out, not with his hands but with this thing inside him, and ruin everything? Everyone? A flash of crimson is all it would take to cleave this world in half.

But he can’t afford to. Not then, not now.

The only way he made it out of the cold isolation of the lab, far away from the bad room, was by convincing the staff, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was good. He was their perfect man-made hero. Logically, he knows they can’t ever put him back in the bad room. He’d never let them. It doesn’t stop the nightmares.

He folds in on himself, doing his best to forget that he even has power to wield against others—a whim as sharp as glass. Now, just as then, he orders his body and mind to still, to calm.

If Layla had stayed yesterday morning, things would have been different. His tightly controlled grip on her hip flexes minutely. How can she sleep so deeply knowing that she’s ruined him?

What was she doing with Starlight?

The inkling of a deeper betrayal slithers into his mind. He slides his hand up the length of her torso, traversing the familiar scape of her body, and into her hair, coiling his fingers into a gentle fist of it. One twist is all it would take to quiet her soothing voice forever. Would hair ever feel the same to him again, or would it start to smell like burning tears and cornea? The stench of grief hits him so suddenly that his eyes sting with it, and he recoils from Layla like he himself has been burned.

Has she been scheming against him all along, too?

Fucked. He’s so completely and entirely fucked.

He exhales harshly, curling his hand into a tight fist and biting into the meaty curve just below his thumb, muffling a tearful keen. He can’t think back to that morning without reliving how horribly it went wrong, and how the dominos just continued to fall until he was losing his senses in front of the entire world.

Those moments on stage play over and over in his mind, but each instance of them grows more warped than the last. He’s starting to forget what he really said, conflating memories with nightmares. How much of himself did he really let slip? How ugly does the world think him to be now? 

He can see the headlines now.

Homelander: America’s Fallen Hero

Homelander: Vought’s Poster Boy Throws a Tantrum

Homelander: Deranged Freak Snaps On Stage

He’s spiraling worse than he did during Stormfront’s smear campaign against him. It isn’t just dissenting opinions and slander—he’s finally given them real ammunition to use against him. The question is: how much, and how will he refute it? He needs to be able to recover from this.

His voice of reason is treacherously quiet. Nothing but the dreadful echo of I warned you.

With his thoughts twisting in on themselves like a pit of angry, writhing snakes, he finds it impossible to stay still any longer. His whole body is plagued with a restlessness that turns into agony. Carefully, he extracts himself from Layla’s side and slips out of her bed. He needs to see it for himself. He needs to understand the degree of damage that’s been done to him.

Stepping out into her living room, Homelander picks up the remote for her television and flips it on, dropping the volume to such a miniscule level that he’ll be the only one to hear it. He lowers himself down onto the couch and stares, watching his body move and speak, seemingly puppeteered by someone other than himself, operating in ways he’s never seen himself behave in front of a camera before.

“I’m done being persecuted for my strength–”

Erratic.

“Persecuted for my strength–”

Unhinged.

“Persecuted–”

Alive.

If they want to take us down, we’re going to take every last one of them down with us.

The sky is just barely beginning to turn with dawn’s light when Layla wakes to a chill that rolls up her spine. Her bed feels colder than it has any right to, and as the fractured events of last night spill back into her mind, it doesn’t take her long to figure out why. 

Homelander—who knows if he’ll accept that name yet—is nowhere to be seen.

Her temples throb with the aftermath of emptying a hefty bottle of wine as she lifts herself from bed, running her hands through her hair, breaking apart the tangles with her fingers.

The breadcrumb trail of Homelander’s suit leading from her balcony to her bed tells her that he hasn’t left. The image of him streaking through the sky in the nude does occur to her, though. Straightening her borrowed blouse and tucking it back into the waist of her skirt, she steps lightly through the dark of her apartment, head on a swivel, until she spots her quarry.

Reclined on her couch, Homelander paints an image somewhere between a renaissance painting and a billboard for depression, his body illuminated by the flashing light of the television. His expression is morose, his hand sitting on the couch next to him at an angle, the remote tilted in his loose grasp. As she approaches, he begins tapping on the volume until his own recorded voice fills the empty space between them.

It’s his tirade from last night.

“Hey, babe,” he drawls from the couch, voice pitched low and despondent. The way he pops each consonant makes the pet name sound downright derogatory. “So, what’s the verdict?” He asks, lazily gesturing to the television with the remote. “Is it everything you thought it would be?” His gaze slides from the screen to her, his head lolling to the side with it.

Any concern or lingering sleepiness in her face is swiftly replaced with bewilderment. “Excuse me?”

“‘Excuse me?’” He mocks, pitching his voice up condescendingly. Her expression hardens as he stands, the remote bouncing along the couch cushions where he tosses it. “Don’t play dumb with me.”

“I’m not playing anything with you,” she responds tersely. She’s never been a morning person. Compound that with the ache in her skull and the naked pain in the neck standing in front of her, she’s not feeling her usual bounty of patience. Last night, he was a weepy, sopping mess. Now she doesn’t know what to expect from the tight line of his shoulders, or the agitated curl of his upper lip. “I have no idea what it is you think you’re picking at.”

“Since when are you and Starlight pals, then?” He hisses through his teeth.

Shit. Annie. She never sent that text.

“Since yesterday,” she answers, her calm stretched thin. “She saw me at the elevator. She offered a shower and a change of clothes. That’s all.” She doesn’t find it necessary to explain why Starlight might have offered such a thing. He knows exactly how she looked when she left his penthouse, bruised and disheveled.

The memory looks to serve as a crisp slap, some level of clarity filtering into the incensed glaze of his eyes. His grip flexes, and he bares his teeth in an animalistic flash of frustration. He isn’t willing to accept fault for that yet.

“Stop fucking lying to me!” He snaps, the sudden jump in volume startling her. He advances on her sharply, halting her step backwards with an iron grip, his palm against her throat, his thumb and index finger notching perfectly behind the curve of her jaw below her ears. The contact is minimal, and yet the strength in those two fingers alone is more than enough to hold her firmly in place. 

“You’re all the fucking same! Agendas, lies, all of you trying to control me, use me, and you—you’re exactly the fucking same. You’ve taken everything from me,” he snarls. Despite his fervor, his grip remains remarkably controlled. Sometimes it’s as if his mind and his body are two independent entities: one an unstable, emotionally malnourished psyche, and the other a finely tuned weapon.

The human mind wants dangerous things to be ugly, but even now, Homelander’s twisted, angry expression is not an ugly thing. Though adrenaline surges the thrum of her heart, it isn’t laden with the fear any reasonable person would have. The thrill coursing through her isn’t rooted in some comfort that he won’t hurt her. It’s the knowledge that he—more devastating than any man she’s ever known—absolutely will if not handled correctly.

It’s like holding a thundering storm in her bare hands.

Layla stares wide-eyed and astonished, so thoroughly unaware of what he’s accusing her of that she struggles to speak around the hard lump in her throat. He leans closer yet, clutching her with all the same strength, tenderness and menace of the ocean cradling a ship.

“I killed her,” he whispers, the words passing between them like a confession to God himself. He’s so near, she could rest her forehead against his if she wanted. “I killed her for lying to me. I’ll kill you, too.”

Madelyn Stillwell. The name returns to her like a ghost, the hairs at the back of her neck prickling. Or was it Stormfront? The unnamed mother of his child? One was the victim of a domestic terrorist, one committed suicide, and the third is yet undetermined. All of them are apparent casualties of Homelander’s turbulent presence in their lives. Is she to be the fourth in a string of tragedies? Rage swells so suddenly in her heart that she almost chokes on the fire of it. What right does he have to interrogate her and  threaten her?

“Are you glad?” She asks, her voice steady despite the tremble in her hand holding his wrist in turn. “Are you glad to have killed her?”

His expression flips as if he’s been struck, crinkled brows shooting up. “What?”

“Will you be glad to have killed me?” She asks tightly, her nails biting ineffectual crescents into his titanium flesh. Her tone is sharp and no longer meant to soothe. She speaks to cut. “Or will you just be even more alone?”

Like hers, his eyes turn glassy. “No,” he says softly. She doesn’t know if that’s an answer or a plea.

“Let me go,” she tells him firmly, fighting to hold onto the fires of her own indignant anger. His abrupt flashes of softness and vulnerability compromise her resolve.

“Go where, Layla?” He snaps, suddenly loud again. His broken desperation and seething anger make his voice reedy. “Where the fuck could you go that I wouldn’t still feel you? Kill you, fuck you, love you; you’re in my fucking head!”

You’re all the fucking same!

She isn’t dead, but he’s treating her like a ghost nonetheless. As if she’s already one of the many specters haunting him.

“You love me?” She asks him, snatching that precarious lifeline out of the messy slurry of his words. She’s not sure that he knows the meaning of it. 

Does she?

The tension in Homelander’s face goes slack, stricken to hear those words fall from her lips. His mouth opens and closes as he tries and fails to form the right words. It’s too vulnerable to say yes, and too complicated to say no. Ultimately, he can’t bear to answer first.

“Do you love me?” He asks, defensive, as if she were the one who brought the terrifying gravity of love into the equation in the first place. The weight of it turns her tongue to lead.

There’s an adolescent sense of fumbling in this moment that would be endearing if he were not clutching her jaw with inhuman strength, the whispered promise of her death hanging over them like a creaky guillotine. In another life, this could have been a very sweet confession.

“Do you?” He prompts her again, desperate. He cups the back of her head with his other hand, taking a step closer. His chest bumps her forearms where she has them tightly braced, hands clamped tightly over his wrist. It’s a meager barrier to uphold, but she does so steadfastly. His hold on her is suffocating, his agonized ocean eyes filling up her vision. He’s larger than life, leaving space for little else in her life ever since he crashed into it.

Even when he’s gone, she is consumed by him like a fever that refuses to be sweated out. When her career first began, she knew well enough not to entertain superhumans. It wasn’t a bias she held against them per se, but the opposite: she knew from the start that she would become intoxicated on the danger of them. Homelander is the epitome of everything she’s ever been too afraid to let herself love. He’s the first person to ever be enough of a risk to scare her, and enough of a reward to satiate her. She can feel her destruction lurking in him just as plainly as her parents found their own in their shared thrill seeking.

“I want to,” she whispers, a secret she’s denied even to herself until now. “But you’re making it so fucking hard.”

He exhales roughly, something like hope softening the tension in his expression before he screws his eyes shut, another wave of agony contorting his features. His forehead thumps gently against hers. “I don’t know—I don’t know how else to be. I don’t know how. I don’t know how to make it easy.”

Finally, he releases her jaw from the snare of his grip, only to take either side of her face between his hands, pulling away to look at her. He’s always been younger than her in a multitude of ways, but in this moment, the agonized youth in his eyes takes her breath away. “I was—I was made to be loved. I was supposed to be everyone’s hero. They poked and prodded me, manufactured me in a-a fucking lab to be perfect, but no one—”

Layla’s eyes widen, her heart seized. What?

Homelander bares his teeth like a wounded animal, breath hissing in and out of his clenched teeth as tears roll down his cheeks. “But no one does, no one fucking does, no one loves me,” he says through his teeth, nearly choking on the words. “I don’t understand how to make it easy, Layla,” he sobs, hands shaking on either side of her face. She can’t tell if it’s from sheer emotion, or the restraint it takes not to crush her between them.

“So just—tell me what I need to do, please,” he begs her, devastatingly beautiful in the same way the sprawling webbing of a shattered mirror is. “Tell me how to be easy to love.”

Breathless, Layla stands there with her heart bleeding so freely, so painfully, that she swears there’s warm blood soaking onto the pristine white blouse she wears.

There is a monster in Homelander. At times, she can feel the claws of it in his grip on her. Hear it growling in her ear. When it comes to handling monsters, banishment is always the remedy. Slay the beast, free the man. Homelander’s monster is not so easily felled, nor is she certain it should be. He was not born with sharp teeth and claws. From what she’s gathered, they were filed into fine points long before he was a man.

People like to think of the monster within them as an outside force. Corruption, propaganda, the devil. Layla has spent enough time in bed with people’s deviance to know better. The proverbial devil is not outside of humanity, but embedded deep within It cannot be safely extracted any more than a beating heart can.

But corruption isn’t a heart—it’s a stomach. 

It craves and yearns, it twists and aches and growls when hungry. Just as Eve ate of the apple, humans take bites of sin to satiate their monster. Like people, monsters come in a wide variety of shapes, temperaments, and cravings. Some beasts can be satisfied with a nibble here and there. Others require more. Some never learned how to know when they’re full.

After all he has been deprived of, Homelander may never be truly satisfied, but does that mean he doesn’t deserve to be fed at all?

No, Layla thinks. It doesn’t.

Both of their faces are streaked wet with tears as they hold one another’s gazes. Gingerly, she brings her own hands up to cup his face, wiping his tears with her thumbs. “Okay,” she whispers, afraid her own voice of reason will hear her. “Okay, my darling.”

Relief helps smooth the crease between his brows, but it doesn’t dissipate entirely. “Say it,” he urges her, the hands still upon her face giving the faintest nudge. “Say you love me.”

“I love you,” she says, teary and quiet, but with conviction. She leans in, and he allows her to, no longer holding her firmly in place for fear that she might suddenly vanish. “I love you,” she says again, a promise that ghosts his lips. He shudders. “I love you. You’re in my head,” she says, echoing his own words back at him. Her lips brush against his in a not-quite kiss. “You were from the start.”

He exhales a pained, keening sound, pushing his fingers into her hair and pulling her deep into a feverish kiss. His hunger for her is voracious, and his desire is a force she might not withstand—not by virtue of its violence, but because of its sheer magnitude. He kisses her fiercely, one arm slipping around her middle to keep her body from bowing under the weight of his love.

“I love you, too,” he breathes, the relief in his voice palpable. She takes the air of it into her lungs like it might save her. “I love you so fucking much.”

It’s dangerous, she knows, to trick herself into believing she can satiate his mountainous hunger. Danger is like an ice bath, though. You grow accustomed to the bite of it.

Morning light creeps slowly into Layla’s condo. Homelander trails her as closely as her own shadow, breathing in against the crook of her neck while she cooks breakfast. He’s partially dressed in his undershirt and underwear, his suit folded neatly upon her vanity for the time being. It’s nice to feel his arms around her without the obstructive padding of his suit. Without the bulk of it, she fits more closely against him, his superhuman warmth like a particularly cuddly space heater pressed against her back.

“One egg or two?” She asks him, plucking one from the container on the counter.

“Mmm… Two,” he says, the deliberation making it sound more like a trivia answer than a preference.

She cracks four eggs into the pan, one at a time. “Over easy, medium, hard…?”

He grins against her neck, and she gives his hand at her hip a playful little swat with the back of her silicone spatula. “I dunno,” he says, nuzzling her. “However you like it.”

“Have you never had eggs before?” She asks, looking back at him. 

He’s got his chin propped up on her shoulder. His gaze flickers up from the sizzling pan to meet hers. “Just scrambled.”

…I was made… manufactured in a fucking lab…

She swallows a small lump in her throat, turning back to the eggs. She flips them all over easy and plates them with the toast. When she takes the toast off of the plates and begins slicing them into strips, Homelander makes an inquisitive noise.

“You’ll see,” she says cryptically, shooing him to the table as she plates their breakfasts and carries them to the table.

Homelander sits, and she sets his plate down in front of him. She sits on the adjoining corner to his, but within seconds he has a grip on her seat. The chair legs groan as he slides her closer to him, smiling at her look of surprise. “That’s better,” he says, his knee bumping hers.

He’d likely prefer she be in his lap. There’s always a lingering sense that she’s never quite close enough, even when they’re pressed tightly against one another. He might not be satisfied until he finds a way to open her up and crawl inside.

Huffing a small laugh, she gestures to his plate. “Use the toast sticks to break the yolk,” she tells him, and then demonstrates on her own meal, jabbing a piece of toast into the soft yellow yolk, coating it properly before taking a bite.

Blinking, Homelander does the same. He hums appreciatively, nodding with a mouthful of food.

“My gramma insisted that all food tastes better when it’s dipped. She always made my breakfasts this way,” she explains, her smile tinged with bittersweet nostalgia. “I can’t remember the last time I did it for myself.” 

Silence follows. She glances up to find Homelander staring intently at his plate, a cut of toast pinched between his fingers, dripping yolk back down onto the egg. Layla takes a breath to speak, but that inhale is all it takes to snap him from his thoughts, his sharp blue eyes meeting hers.

“Ryan would like this, I think,” he says. She can tell he’s working to keep his voice conversational.

“Ryan?” She echoes, though it clicks a second after she says it.

“My son,” he confirms, clearing his throat gently. She shares his trepidation as he enters this particular topic of conversation, considering the fallout the last time it was broached. He dips the toast again and takes another bite, seemingly buying time with deliberate chews.

Layla bites her tongue, choking back her own knee-jerk response. She likes children just fine, in theory. She’s had very little practical experience. Still, words of unbidden advice bubble up on her tongue as if she’s an expert. She wants to tell Homelander to go to the boy, talk to him. He told her that she had taken everything from him, presumably referring to his very public meltdown, but that isn’t true in a number of ways. He has a son out there somewhere, confused and without either of his parents.

It sets a sympathetic churn in her gut. Grieving her own parents as a child made an adult of her far too soon. She may not have raised any children herself, but she can speak as a child who was left behind.

“He’s nine. He’s strong,” Homelander continues tentatively. “I mean, really strong. Strong like me,” he says, pride underlining each word, driving out the hesitance. “He’s so much like me. I never thought I’d see it, but he’s real. He’s—” he breaks into a small, incredulous laugh. “—He’s a miracle. A real, born miracle.”

Unlike you, she surmises from his tone. He said that Vought had made him. The world has been rocked by the revelation that supes are the result of Vought’s pharmaceutical ventures, but the way Homelander talks of his son makes him sound different. An exception to that fact, somehow.

“You should go to him,” she encourages, still holding onto a level of cautiousness on the matter. “I was left behind by my parents. I don’t wish it on anyone.”

“I didn’t leave him behind,” Homelander corrects sharply. She was right to tread lightly. “He left me,” he says, though he doesn’t speak with anger so much as he does woundedness. He’s never expressed anything but love—bordering on reverence—for his son, and yet he has completely roadblocked himself from reaching out.

It’s complicated, he told her before.

“He’s nine. It’s not his job to uncomplicate things or bridge the gap,” she says as gently as she can muster, though even she can hear the weariness in her own voice. “It’s yours. He needs you to be the adult, to help the world make sense. It’s one thing to give him space, but you can’t abandon him.”

At first, there is a flash of petulant defiance in Homelander’s eyes, obvious in the tight set of his jaw. To Layla’s relief, however, it fades into quiet consideration. He looks back down to his half-finished plate.

“You can’t take personally what anyone, much less a child, does out of grief,” she says softly, reaching out to put her hand atop his where it rests on the table. “Ryan needs wisdom. Support. People who love him. He needs his father.”

He looks up at her with a level of vulnerability in those ocean blue eyes that never fails to pull her into the depths. “You think so?”

“I know so,” she says firmly. To this day, she can’t imagine what she wouldn’t do for just one more day with her own father. 

Slowly, the wateriness of his gaze becomes a sparkle. Homelander smiles. He has as many smiles as an ice cream shop has flavors, and this one says he’s just had an idea.

“What?” Layla asks after a beat, an edge of suspicion to her tone.

“Nothing,” he says placatingly. His smile shifts. She knows that flavor of smile. That one means he’s lying. “Just relieved is all. Could I use your phone?”

It’s a wonder the ease with which Homelander glides from mood to mood, as if he puts each one neatly in a box before he takes out the next one. Layla only hesitates for a second before she nods, sliding out of her chair to go and fetch her cellphone. She still needs to text Annie.

“Jesus,” she says softly, staring at her screen with a deep crease in her brow.

“What?” Homelander asks, leaning in his seat.

She has thirty missed calls, and about as many text messages.

THIS IS ASHLEY BARRET. HAVE YOU SEEN HOMELANDER? IF YOU KNOW WHERE HOMELANDER IS, PLEASE CONTACT ME. PLEASE CONTACT ME IF YOU KNOW WHERE HOMELANDER IS. MISS ALDEN PLEASE CONTACT ME AND ONLY ME IF YOU HAVE SEEN HOMELANDER. IF YOU CAN PLEASE INFORM HOMELANDER HE IS UP.

Ashley Barret. Layla recalls the name from Homelander’s initial booking. She had been the one to handle the details and arrange payment.

“Ashley Barret is very desperate to find you,” she says, reading the texts as she walks back towards him. “She says that you’re… up.” She stops at the table, looking at him. “What does that mean?”

The chair legs scrape audibly against the floor when Homelander stands up. “Give me that,” he says, taking the phone from her outstretched hand. His expression pinches tightly as he scrolls through the messages, lips parted. “I’m… up,” he says slowly, processing the words that mean nothing to Layla. With a tap, she hears a dial tone. Homelander holds the phone to his ear.

“Miss Alden–” answers a feminine voice immediately.

“What do you mean I’m up?” Homelander interrupts, a harshness to his voice that Layla doesn’t expect to hear outside of an argument.

“21 points with your base,” Ashley says breathlessly.

Homelander’s expression softens, becoming wonder-like. “What did you say?”

“21 points. They loved your speech!”

He looks at Layla, familiar glassiness returning to his eyes. He lifts his loose hand, which curls slowly into a fist, as if he’s taking hold of something precious, some nebulous concept of grace he had thought lost. 

“A massive 44% uptick with white males in the Rust Belt.”

“Yes,” Homelander hisses through his teeth, pumping his fist triumphantly. “Fuck yes! Yes!” With that same hand, he suddenly takes hold of the back of Layla’s neck, pulling her into a deep kiss. Her noise of surprise is muffled against his lips, his tongue a slick demand on hers.

“They’re saying you’re confident and unapologetic!” Ashley’s voice continues to prattle from the phone, though Layla’s finding it hard to pay attention with the way Homelander’s taking a fistful of her hair, bowing her back, kissing her hungrily. “That you’re not afraid to be yourself!”

He outright moans against her lips. She breaks away from him with a gasp, hand pressed against her chest. “Should I give you a moment alone with Ashley?” She asks breathlessly, only half-joking. The man is absolutely alight against her, heat radiating in his touches. The news trips an alarm bell somewhere in the back of Layla’s mind, but she’s struggling to process it in the wake of his voraciousness.

“Christ, no,” he says. The phone hits the ground with a clatter, Ashley’s confused voice continuing distantly on the line. He cups both sides of Layla’s face and pulls her back in, exhaling a pleased little growl against her lips. “Did you hear? They love me. They fucking love me,” he says between kisses, breathless and downright giddy.

Drawing back, he strokes her cheeks tenderly with his thumbs, his smile broad, eyes shining with relief, joy, and something Layla can’t quite place, though it causes a small knot to form in her gut.

“They want me to be myself.”

#this chapter took everything out of me but it's here and i hope to god it doesn't take this long for the next chap #bc i already have portions written and i know where it's all going!!! #blood sweat and tears in this fic fr lmao #homelander x oc #homelander x original character #homelander fanfiction #eat your ego #my writing

[deputy-buck]

Need a Catholic school Hawk/Tim AU set in 1948.

Keep it where Hawk still served in '44 but Tim is younger (Sophmore-Junior year maybe). Since when Tim was 14, Hawk would have been 24-25 in Velletri, Hawk would have to get the teaching gig a year after that at 26. Which doesn't really make sense at all so maybe Tim is just aged down to where he's 2-3 years younger, and it gives Hawk time to get out at 27 and then establish himself as a teacher at 29 by the time Tim reaches his Sophomore year. I'll never write this, why am I doing all the work to make a workaround for age. Going off the suspected age-range given the tennis trophy Hawk got is dated 1936, him being born 1919 or 1920, I prefer 1919 so that's the year I use. And per Tim's enlistment paper, he was born 06/06/30, making him 13-14 in 44' in canon, but in the AU he'd be born 1933 or 1932.

I would love to write it but I don't know how Catholic schools work-

Anyway, history teacher Hawk x student Tim. Tim is a great student already but he goes the extra mile in Hawk's class, he's usually always the first to finish assignments and does extra research on time periods and events that Hawk shows more interest in (maybe he gifts a book to Hawk that way.) Hawk acknowledges it but never makes a show of favoritism like giving extra attention or praise to Tim, no after-class meetings alone in Hawk's classroom or office, NOTHING. But ofc Tim knows the feelings are at least somewhat mutual bc Hawk does look at him throughout the class period. He never makes a big show of that either, no winks or lip-licks or once-overs, he'll take a deep breath though, and blink real slow, maybe the slightest little smile but never enough to notice unless you look as closely as Tim does.

Maybe there's a time that he and Tim are outside, standing side by side in some sort of secluded portion of the courtyard, when Hawk touches him for the first time. Nothing that couldn't be written off as innocent if someone were to see the action. They'd been talking about the project Hawk had assigned that morning. Tim, always eager for more direction from Hawk so that his submitted work will be the best of the bunch, keeps inching closer and closer by """accident"". Hawk places his hand on the boy's shoulder and gently holds him still, and when Tim stops and his breath catches, Hawk slides his hand up Tim's trap to the nape of his neck, squeezing just a little to make Tim shudder and let out a whine. At the involuntary noise, Hawk smirks and runs his nails down Tim's spine, scratching the pristinely ironed white button-up of Tim's uniform, sending goosebumps all along Tim's skin, his legs a little shaky from the smallest touch and Hawk grabs his waist/hip to stablize the boy. Hawk leans down the slightest bit to speak lowly in his star student's ear.

"It's a rather large assignment, but I have no doubt in your ability to blow it out of the water," Hawk digs his fingers into the slight give of Tim's waist, indulging and giving himself something to fantasize about later. "I'll spend the weekend picturing you kneeling on the floor as you work on my project." His project, like this assinment isn't for a grade but for Hawk personally.

Tim thinks about it that night and can't help but touch himself. He'll never look at the Battles of Ypres the same after that day.

That's all I've got-

#is this?? fucked up?? yes but I get to treat fiction as fiction and adapt it in fictional ways : ) #tim laughlin #hawkins fuller #hawk x tim #fellow travelers #buck builds #buck brawls

[mkmoka]

#HIIII and happy opening day to magickai! i’m lenny bringing you umeda moka (she/her, b. 2003) – she’s a new muse catered specifically to this verse, so i’m excited to start writing and developing her ☺️ check out her links here: about / biography (plz this is coming soon) and under the cut will be a rundown of her information. LIKE this post if interested in plotting, and i will be sliding into ur ims!!!!!!! ok. without further ado. let’s go.

INFO

moka is born on june 3, 2003 to magical lineage – her parents are both magi and so are many of her ancestors before her. she has an older sister, sora, so she’s the youngest in the family

growing up her parents were way more lenient with her than they were with sora bc sora was expected to be the heir and everything

girl sure did act like it too btwKWNDKEJDK she was way more loud and outspoken about her beliefs, thoughts, and feelings while moka was someone who would just. shut up and accept how things would go... not her best trait tbh but what can u do….

moka seemed a lot less motivated in life compared to other people growing up which is kinda sad bc ur like 13 girl why are u already so nonchalant about how ur future goes but i digress

sora always got more attention from people too. relatives, people who were interested in her, moka’s own classmates. moka never really minded however… bc she knew that she thrived in other areas

so we fast forward to when moka is 15 and sora is 17. sora wasn’t showing any signs of having any magical abilities at all so this was when she got more stressed as well as when their parents started putting their stress ON her… sora got meaner with her words and seemed more withdrawn during this time so this kind of strained the sisterly relationship they previously had where it was moka getting doted on

moka starts branching out during this year…. finds her passions and starts taking her hobby of volleyball more seriously, makes some good friends (some 4lifers prob)

in april, she comes into her powers of air manipulation and gets visited by an elder.

her companion is a hamster that looks like hamtaro strangely WNFMEJKEBSKD her name is yua and dont let her cuteness deceive u… shes always up to some shit..

an elder visiting moka made sora even MORE withdrawn from her like. and in blind rage she tried to kill moka like, she literally tried to kill her and this is the root of why moka seems so distant from everybody. this is when they come to terms that the magi gene probably skipped sora

in may, a month later, moka moves to korea to escape it all. her parents make her promise to keep what happened in april a secret, scared to seem like a broken family. they introduce her to their friends in jeju that allow her to stay with them

ofc she’s heard about lumera.. the people she stayed with encourage her to actually enroll in there and she studies her ass off for the written exam portion and since most of her parents circle are magi….. they help her out a lot regarding her powers. help her improve, help her find out what her limits and strengths are, help her with the evaluation section of the exam

she gets her acceptance letter in late june!!!! a few weeks after her birthday in a country she’s new to!!! yay!!! #Moka1stWin

now moka’s a sophomore and she majors in magical metaphysics and struggling with her own stress and trauma + controlling air manipulation bc it can be overwhelming sometimes… shes just a girl…

as for PERSONALITY….. she’s someone u have to get to know to love because her first impression isn’t that strong like. u’d just be like. “okay”. she’s distant and ends up hurting herself as well as other ppl in her process of retreat. moka is more shy and tbh i feel like she’d be a fun person to tease bc she wouldn’t be upset or do anything back just sit there. Probably embarrassed as hell probably would be like “uhhh” JWNFKSKDKNDJD

WANTED CONNECTIONS

moka… needs… a friend… who she can open up to about everything. she’s dismissive at first so a muse that’s extroverted and encouraging to what she wants to do would be all she ever needs like. seriously. or an unlikely friends situation would be very cute too!!!! either way, this muse would have to sign an nda contract so that her parents don’t come for both her and them…

i feel like she needs somebody to see as a sibling here especially because she’s been lonely these days… someone she’s met since her first days at lumera and made her feel right at home somehow. moka is always looking after them to make sure that they’re not pushing themselves harder than they need to, too

people she gets off on the wrong foot with… like yeah her usual state might be idgaf-ism but she also needs some spice in her life…. this muse might’ve gotten frustrated at moka’s lack of ambition, and i feel like moka wouldn’t work well with those with too much of it, as well as cocky personalities

japanese childhood friends that drifted apart from each other and they recently get to reconnect.. how their friendship would look like now would be up to us :3

someone who’s been tutoring her korean. she’s advanced level at the language now because of highschool year determination and has been living in sk for like. a year but she would still appreciate help! maybe they met at korean literature club or smth

MOKA WORKS AT BUBBLING BOBA…. her regulars that she doesnt remember by name but by their boba order WLMDMSNDK if they end up meeting on campus she’s just gonna be like. “omg it’s you milk tea boba with 50% sweetness and light ice”

she’s still bitter abt being kicked out of volleyball club. so. friends she made at volleyball club that she now is “mad” at for stealing her position… friends she still plays volleyball with outside of the club.. etc etc

unrequited crushes that moka makes so obvious that she feels something for them yet she thinks it’s the opposite and is still “hiding” it like. and maybe this time she’s getting distanced from.. let’s see how she reacts to that.. LFMDJDJJS

in that same vein, old exes bc i feel like she wouldn’t be the best in a relationship 😭😭😭 i wanna explore her being guilty regarding it plus… i’m sure it’ll make fun threads!!!!

people to help her get on track, get her motivated with “saving the world” and everything else that has to do with it. moka will be like “uhhhhh” at first but at the end of the day she’ll be the most grateful

i also do prefer figuring things out 1 on 1 and bouncing off on each others ideas so.. let’s brainstorm!!! 🥹 i will appreciate all of the plots u hit me with 💓

#mk:intro #i just got the yass meal

[wickedlittlewordsmith]

I’m gonna be honest and just ramble about mental health shit beneath the cut bc I can’t find my journal I usually write shit down in, and I just need to get it out of my head

My mental health has fucking tanked so hard since moving here. And it’s only getting worse with the holidays. I’ve never been a huge fan of things like Thanksgiving or Christmas, but for some reason knowing that I’m going to spend Christmas completely alone is just. It fucking sucks. I feel so fucking alone

And, like, I can’t even fucking bring myself to do things no matter how much I want to and how much I love what I want to do. Like, shit, I have a good portion of the first installment of punk steve au already written or sketched out roughly, and I can’t bring myself to post it bc my brain just goes “No”

Idk. Things are bad in the headspace. Not, like, scary bad. There’s no danger. Just. Fucking hollow and numb most of the time, wanting to cry and breakdown the rest of the time.

Shit. Idk where I’m going with all of this. I just want to cry rn

#☩│redd speaks #mental health #mental health cw

[troglobite]

adsjlkfjsd

oh. hm. it's after 6. and i still need to work on my game planning. bc it's on sunday. and like a fucking jackass i scheduled a game literally during my period. and also it's Deeply Homophobic that i'm on my period during father's day like Fuck Right Off.

anyway i uhhhhhhh i uhhhhhadslfksjdhlkjd yeah i should go finish game planning.

i uhhhhhhhh think i don't have THAT much left?????? idfk man lol

i gotta write a whole Thing. a whole Story. i gotta make some decisions bc my players are about to be around 15 NPCs for a Stretch of Time. i already made the maps i needed. but i do need to populate them w icons for all of those like 15+ extra people. i've gotta make stat blocks for them so i'm not using actual character sheets during combat....oh fuck me this is hell. lol

it's just a lot and i got distracted by other things (animal crossing) this week. :/

EVERYONE WISH ME LUCK. I HAVE A LOT TO DO.

i also theoretically (not theoretically, literally) have to send some info [that i haven't written/made up yet] to a player bc she asked for it.

like here's the problem.

this campaign is based in/around the world's BIGGEST collection of specialized schools, that themselves have the world's BIGGEST collection of archives, that are run and watched by the world's BIGGEST collection of scholars, researchers, and experts in their fields.

so for EVERY SINGLE THING that my players ask to know--

i have to Know Everything About It unless they roll like dogshit or fail to ask an archivist/librarian for help and guidance.

i set this campaign up in a school so i could be like "listen, it's controlled, it's within parameters, it's railroaded without being railroaded, and i remain in complete control over where y'all go, so it's not as overwhelming as an open-world campaign would be for me."

but it's AT A FUCKING SCHOOL. THE BIGGEST ONE ON THE PLANET. WITH ALL THE INFORMATION IN THE KNOWN WORLD AVAILABLE.

LIKE !!!!! FUCK!!!!!

okay anyway time to go write more of that shit.

(this time i put them in contact w an archaeologist/historian in the field and they're going on an exploration and excavation mission, but their job is just the first part, where they get a lay of the land and clear out the area so it's safe for the scholars to come on in--also it's underwater. and one of my players made it so her character's parents were ALSO archaeologists/historians and so her character is like OH FUCK YEAH SHOW ME EVERYTHING YOU'VE GOT ABOUT THIS PLACE I HAVEN'T BEEN HERE BEFORE I WANNA LEARN!!!!! and i'm like FUCK ME. THIS IS A NIGHTMARE. I HAVE TO WRITE THE ENTIRE KNOWN GEOGRAPHICAL AND HISTORICAL RECORD FOR THIS ONE FUCKING PLACE. FUCK!!!!!!!! and that's just a small part of what i have left. listen i complain a lot, but a good portion of this shit is a prison of my own making. ANYWAY.)

[pascalpanic]

Ok so i read a little snippet of the new interview w pedro and something stuck with me. He said something about loving to read aloud so IMAGINE FRANKIE. Like I have an idea maybe you’re like a college student who’s cramming for finals and assignments and all overwhelmed. One night before an exam Frankie reads your notes to you as you lie against him in bed. Like this mans voice lulls you to sleep. One page in you’re asleep but u can’t tell me the man doesn’t keep reading since he thinks maybe even in your sleep him reading your notes will help you remember the material for the next day I’m soft 🥺😭

Study Buddy (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)

W/C: 2.4K

Warnings: crying, stress, mentions of food, alcohol, non sexual nudity, reader is studying psychology

A/N: this is.... the dream. like the actual dream. And I included ravioli the cat bc I love that little man :)

God, you can’t remember any of this shit on the page in front of you. It makes your brain hurt, and the fact that you’re studying psychology makes it all even worse. You’re studying what makes you tick, the reasons why you can’t remember it, and it’s endlessly annoying. Your eyes burn from how long you’ve stared at your laptop, hand cramping from the amount of definitions you’ve written several times in a desperate attempt to commit them to memory.

You’ve spent this Sunday at your desk, only getting up to use the bathroom. Your doting boyfriend, Frankie, brings you food, refills your water, rubs your shoulders for you. The final exam is Wednesday, but you’re still filled with anxiety over what you do and don’t know. It feels like everything you learned this semester went in one ear and out the other after the initial tests on the individual units.

This exam is important. The course is a heavily impactful one, naturally an essential knowledge base for the field of mental health work, and passing it with a good grade would be a real standout later when you’re applying for medical school. It’s safe to say the pressure’s on, and you’re feeling it squeeze down on you like a vise.

Frankie walks in again, about an hour after the last time, when he brought you graham crackers and hot tea. You lift your head to look at him, wincing as your neck crunches with the movement. Frankie winces for you. “Wow.” “I know,” you whine, rolling your neck side to side and working out the rest of the air bubbles that formed from staring down at the full notebook. Looking up at him, your eyes water from the constant light of your laptop, even with your blue-light glasses. “What time is it?” You ask.

Frankie sits on the edge of the bed, hands on his thighs. “Uh, it’s about 8 P.M. now.” Ravioli, his cat, lifts his head from where he’s curled on the bed. Frankie murmurs something and rubs the cat’s fluffy little head. Ravioli prances over to Frankie’s lap and curls up in it.

You groan and scoot your rolling chair over to him, his hand finding the tender spot where your neck and shoulder meet and rubbing the sore muscles. “Oh, honey,” he sighs, removing your glasses and wiping the small gathering of tears from your lower eyelids. “Can I run you a bath?”

“I don’t have time, baby,” you whimper, real heavy and hot tears forming as you look back at your desk. “A whole portion of the exam is gonna be on classical conditioning, and I can’t even tell the difference in the unconditioned and conditioned stimuli, and-”

As your words rise in pitch and the cry chokes your throat, Frankie pulls you out of the chair and into his lap. Ravioli nervously removes himself from Frankie’s lap, not wanting to be crushed as you two embrace. “You have all of tomorrow and Tuesday.”

“But I need to use tomorrow for parts of the brain and Tuesday for all-around final review!” You wail, burying your face in his chest and sobbing.

Your tears dampen his shirt but Frankie doesn’t care, he just wraps his arms around you tighter as you cry. He lets the tears fall for a bit, allowing you to get the tension you clearly need out… well, out. He rocks you gently in his arms, holding you in his strong arms and kissing your head. When the tears slow and your wheezes turn to small hiccups, Frankie gives a slow deep breath, knowing you’ll feel it and hoping you’ll mimic it. “You’ve been at your desk for nine hours, baby. It’s time to be done for the night. I’ll let you study a little longer, but I’m going to run us a bath. Okay?” He asks.

Nodding, you sniffle and wipe the tears from your eyes. “I got snot all over your favorite shirt,” you whimper.

Frankie shakes his head. “It’s nothing, querida. Go finish up and I’ll get the bath started.” He slides you back into your desk chair and rolls you back to your desk.

You wipe the snot onto the sleeve of your hoodie and look up at him with big eyes. “You’re too good to me, baby,” you coo, voice still watery.

“Just doing what you deserve.” Frankie stands behind you and removes the tight bun from your hair, letting it fall down and massaging your scalp gently. “Oh, honey,” he sighs as he sees you visibly relax. “That was tight.”

“Didn’t even notice,” you murmur as your eyes slip shut, falling back into Frankie’s strong fingers as they trace your sore scalp. He kisses your forehead and walks off to the bathroom, making you sigh and put your blue light glasses back on for the final few minutes of studying.

With these moments, you review things you already know, deciding to use part of tomorrow to focus on the classical conditioning components again. It’s incredibly basic, you know, and the fact that you don’t get it makes you even more frustrated. You break your own rules and stare at the blank diagram, trying to properly label them, only to feel angry tears welling up.

“Pavlov was an asshole, doing all that tempting to his dogs,” Frankie chuckles as he walks in to see you at the segment again. His small smile falls when he sees your eyes are watering. Helping you from the chair, he shuts your laptop and notebook and wraps his arms around you. “Hey. You’ll get it, baby. Taking a break and coming back helps, right? Didn’t you call that…”

“Spaced practice,” you nod. “Or dispersed. Either term works,” you sniffle.

“See? I’m learning from you. You’ll have your M.D. in no time.”

You give a weak chuckle and walk with Frankie to the bathroom, sighing as you smell your favorite candle and notice that he turned the bathroom light to a soft orange glow. He’d insisted on putting in the color-changing lights recently, and you have to admit you enjoy them. The tub steams with clear water and you turn to Frankie to frown only to see him holding two bath bombs. “Your choice. I know you like picking.”

This makes you finally break from your scowl into a small smile. You pick your favorite, one with pink and purple swirls and a rose on top. Frankie nods and lets you take it. “You do the honors. I’ll go get the bubbles.”

Before he can turn, you stop him and take his face in your hands, kissing him lovingly. “You’re the best,” you tell him with a weak smile.

“How about some wine too?” He offers, rubbing your side.

“God, let’s run away and get married,” you laugh and rest your head against his chest. “Yes, wine please, baby.”

“Be right back,” he smiles and kisses your forehead.

You squat and drop the bath bomb in the water, sighing as the steam becomes scented of jasmine and sage. The water swirls purple and Frankie returns in a few moments with a bottle of red wine and lavender bubble bath. Sighing, you stand to full height and stretch, your back aching from the strained position. Frankie helps you remove your hoodie, slipping it off and tossing it aside before removing his own clothes.

Frankie pours some of the opened red wine into two glasses, then drizzles some bubble bath into the tub. He turns on the jets for a moment, letting the bubbles foam to the top. He slides in once he’s fully naked, grabbing his wine from the side and sighing. “Come on in.”

Smiling over at him, you tie your hair back and slide in, sitting on his lap in the water and grabbing your glass of wine too. You rest your head against Frankie’s broad chest and he turns on the jets, swirling the warm water around the both of you.

It’s just as relaxing as he’d hoped it would be. You sip your wine as he snakes an arm around your middle, kissing the top of your head. You’re both fully naked, but the moment isn’t anything sexy or hot. It’s just loving, snuggling in the warm water.

Handing Frankie your glass, you slip beneath the surface of the bubbles, fully submerging yourself in the deep tub. God, you’re glad Frankie chose the deepest tub they had. Popping back up, you push back your hair and sigh, nuzzling back into his chest.

“Is this all okay?” Frankie asks you after a bit, having set his wine aside and wrapped both arms around you.

Turning off the jets to talk, you smile contentedly as his warm body envelopes you. “So good. God, you’re amazing.”

Frankie smiles at that and squeezes you a little tighter. “You deserve it. You work so hard all the damn time, and you’re so beyond smart. I’m so proud of you, and you need to be treated like this.”

The mention of your work alone makes your body less fluid and relaxed as you start going over your studying plan to make sure you have everything ready for the next few days. Frankie can feel it. “Hey. Relax. Do you want me to help you study?”

You open your mouth to say no, but the offer intrigues you, making you pause. “How?”

Frankie shrugs. “I could quiz you. Read your notes to you.”

His voice always makes things stick better. You remember things much better in Frankie’s voice, holding every little thing the man says in extra high regard. “That would be lovely, baby. Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” he mumbles and kisses behind your ear.

Frankie pours you another half of a glass and by the time you finish it, the water has become lukewarm. The two of you drain the tub and dry off. Frankie brings you warm and clean clothes, a pair of cotton shorts and one of his hoodies. “You know me so well,” you beam at him and kiss him slowly. “When this is over, I’m gonna give you the best fuck of your life for being so good to me.”

Frankie has to laugh. “I mean, I’ll never say no to that, but you don’t have to. This is what partners do. This is my job as your man.”

“‘Mmm, and what a good man you are,” you purr as you nuzzle into his body once your clothes are on. “Gonna go take my meds and meet you in bed, okay?” You ask.

“Sure thing.” He kisses your head and pulls on his pajamas, blue plaid boxers and an old t-shirt, a grungy old thing with a terrible graphic relating to the Delta Force.

“You wanna put some pants on?” You tease, admiring his bare legs beneath the soft fabric.

Frankie yawns, stretching his arms above his head, before shaking it and smiling at you. “Mind your own business.” He retreats to the bedroom, and you can hear him cooing to the cat.

Taking your pills in the kitchen, you return to the bedroom and smile to see Frankie snuggled under the covers, Ravioli’s whiskers sniffing at Frankie’s face. The cat stands on Frankie’s chest, investigating his face. When he sees you, Frankie lifts Ravioli off his chest and pulls back the blankets. “Get on in here.”

Grabbing your thick notebook, you snuggle into the bed, resting your damp head on Frankie’s chest. Frankie kisses your wet hair, wrapping his arm around beneath you and taking the notes from your hands. He cracks it open and sighs. “Alright, brace yourself. I don’t know how to say any of this shit.”

You laugh, resting a hand on his chest. “Do your best.”

“We’ll see,” he chuckles and reads over the page. “Do you want me to quiz you or just read to you?”

“Just read, please,” you say softly as you let your eyes fall shut, absorbing Frankie’s warmth and Ravioli’s weight as he lies down on your feet.

His voice is so soothing. It always is, everything about Frankie is. His voice is low and soft, only loud enough for you to hear it. He begins explaining the difference in the Broca’s and Wernicke’s areas, and even though he clearly doesn’t understand the meaning behind the words, his lovely voice makes them stick.

He reads to you as you get sleepier, the weight and exhaustion of your burning eyes bringing you closer to drifting off. Before you do, you catch yourself and open them, smiling at the cat snuggled at your feet and the rise and fall of Frankie’s chest.

“Will you read me the bit about the different components of classical conditioning?” You ask quietly, hoping his voice will make the concept clearer or at least more memorable.

He nods and his scruff brushes over your forehead as he readjusts his head. Your hand rests on his soft belly, the warm skin and tufts of hair leading lower. He’s like a human comfort blanket, and you can’t help but nuzzle closer into his body.

Trying to go slowly and understand the concept himself, Frankie reads aloud the differences in the conditioned and unconditioned responses and stimuli. As much as you try to focus, your mind slips away into a warm fog, only emphasized by the lilt of his deep voice.

It doesn’t take long after one last yawn. You succumb to the sleep, and your whole body melts into the mattress and into Frankie. One slow sigh tells Frankie that he has succeeded in relaxing you.

Careful not to shift you too much, Frankie leans upwards to toss the notebook on the desk. It lands with a slap, making you jump and startle awake. “Shh, it’s all good, baby, it’s just me,” Frankie murmurs to you, stroking your back through the hoodie.

That’s all you needed, a reassurance that Frankie’s got whatever it is covered. You give half of a nod and rest your head on his chest once more, returning to the slightly deeper sleep.

As your breath slows, so does Frankie’s. He just barely holds back a yawn, clenching his teeth so that he doesn’t make enough noise to wake you again. Once his eyes slip shut, he’s done for, and your little family is all asleep on the bed: you and Frankie intertwined, and the cat at your feet.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @deltadebelleza @tacticalsparkles @queridopascal @wintermuteway @maievdenoir @dobbyjen @beskarboobs @sharkbait77 @day-off-inkyoto @darnitdraco @iamskyereads

#frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales headcanons #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales headcanons #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #catfish morales x reader #catfish morales #francisco catfish morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales #frankie baby

[makeupinthedrawer]

how did we end up here?

what happens when you and niall have broken up but you’re injured and he’s still your emergency contact

authors note: okay sooo this is a strange one for me bc i was kinda inspired by clara mcgregor’s recent red carpet… look?😭 u can see it here but yeah idk it just hasn’t left my mind and i didn’t want to write something that was just tooth rotting fluff again lol so i hope u like this! also this was written on my phone so sorry i didn’t edit the capitalization! pls do not repost my work anywhere! if you see it on any other site pls report and let me know

read my other work here!!!

word count: 1.8k

warnings: some angst (fluff at the end), mentions of a dog bite, mentions of blood, being in a hospital

you didn’t know how this could have happened.

staring at the blank white wall, the fluorescent lights much too blinding for 2 a.m., but every move you made caused your face to ache, even the simple task of closing your eyes.

the blood had dried up now and left gangly, crimson remnants splattered across your nose, cheek, and the corner of your left eye. at least, that’s where you felt it, too nervous to look yourself in the mirror and confirm that the dog bite had seriously wrecked your face, the small progress of building your self worth back up after your break up would surely disappear instantly.

you and niall had agreed to go on a break almost four weeks ago now. a huge blowout over your schedules which shouldn’t have been all that complicated at all. in hindsight, all you wanted was to see him more so when he told you he was scheduling an almost year long tour, you brought up some concerns. concerns that he took as an attack- a natural instinct as a large portion of his relationships fizzled away before his eyes when he realized he hadn’t seen them for weeks on end- so words were said that couldn’t be taken back, bags were packed and doors were slammed.

and four weeks later, you’re here. blood drying on your face and the loneliness in your heart consuming you from the inside out. staring into space for a moment, you let the existential crisis and irrational thoughts run through your mind once again, oblivious to the soft knocks against the door.

“hello?”

you shot up at the sound, the hesitant and all too familiar lilt had reverberated off the walls and blared in your ears. why the hell was he here? how did he know? was it really him? you didn’t know anyone else who was irish who wasn’t a Horan or part of the the Horan family and you seriously doubted Deo was here to see you.

“h-hello?”

and with that his scuffed up new balances carried him over to the front of your bed, his mouth open in shock and you couldn’t dare to look at him, for he must be scanning your face, any chance of you two getting back together leaving his mind.

he really was just drinking you in, taking in how small you looked even though the hospital cot could barely fit another half a person, and how scared you seemed, at his presence or from the injury. but you still looked fascinating. everything about you was intoxicating to him and seeing you after not being able to for a couple of weeks hit him harder than ever before and he was already drunk on the sight of you.

“a-are you okay?” — “why are you here?”

“no i-” — “sorry”

you both huffed and you had to bite back a laugh, wincing at the contractions of your cheeks.

“i- i’m still your emergency contact, love.” niall spoke, so slowly almost as if he’d spook you if he raised his tone any louder.

“oh.”

“yeah.”

the hospital lighting cast an unsightly glow on everything in the room, making it so visible you couldn’t not focus on everything in the room at once, but niall suddenly clouded your every thought. you hadn’t even thought of removing him as your emergency contact. granted you didn’t expect to end up here anytime soon, but still; what else did you have to change now that he wasn’t your boyfriend anymore? now that he wasn’t the first one to call whenever you were in pain?

“i nearly dropped to the floor when i answered the call, they said you were being driven to the hospital and it was all i could do to not run here on foot, had to get Tara to drive me.

“and she nearly made me walk halfway here because I was doing that annoying foot tapping thing all through the drive.” he added on, after seeing your face drop, a minuscule movement, but he noticed everything you did, he knew how much you hated people going out their way for you.

“what happened, darlin?”

and his eyes were so full of concern that you spilt out everything that happened throughout the course of the night: going to the party, how your friend, Ana, made you both leave with two random guys to go and hang out back at their apartment, how their dog actually wasn’t very friendly and does very much bite, and then you ended up here.

he listened intently all the way through, eyes never leaving yours even when you saw his lips taut at the mention of other guys, and cooed in comfort when your voice cracked with emotion as the whole night had been way more overwhelming than you ever thought it would be.

“so yeah all in all it was just a horrible night.”

“sounds like it, pet. are you okay? do you want me to get you anything?”

your heart burst in your chest at the comforting tone of his voice that wrapped around you like a quilt and how he was already bouncing on his toes, ready to run out the door and dote on you. that quilt quickly became barbed wire as you realized the sun would soon come up and the small corner of the universe you two created in the little white room would dissipate and his truth he spewed in the past would remain true.

“no i’m alright ni. niall.” and the silence grew for a mortifying second before you spoke up again, “w-well thank you for coming. i can ask them to change it when they discharge me.”

he looked up at you, confusing crossing his features “change what, dear?”

“the name. your name,” your stare focused on a safe-sex poster residing on the wall behind him, just beside his head, you couldn’t bare to look at him, knowing relief would flood through his eyes that he doesn’t have to mind you anymore. “you don’t have to be my emergency contact anymore. i can change it to Ana.”

“love, i know you’re in the hospital right now and probably in an immense amount of pain, but are you stupid?”

your head snapped up at him and you winced at the speed, the action causing his face to soften as he scooted closer to you. his large hand found itself at the back of your neck, slowly brushing through the hair that resided there.

“i- i want to be your emergency contact. i want to be the first one you call whenever you need help, or you need to tell someone good news, or you want to rant about the annoying characters in your book.”

“i want us to be best friends again. who kiss and hug at the start and end of each day. who’re in love with each other and it’ll be so easy to go back into it because i’m still madly in love with you… and i hope you’re still in love with me and realize that this… this break or whatever we’re on is fucking stupid. and it fucking kills me that i have to tell you this at all, that you doubted my love for you for weeks, and that i’m doing this in a hospital for christs sake but the fact that i wasn’t there to protect you, the fact that this happened because you were at some other guys place… just kills me.”

you could only look at him in silence, the weight of his lengthy confession crushing you. your eyes searched his blue ones for any trace of a lie, as if you would be able to find any dishonesty tangled within the gold flecks dusted in his irises, for being burned by him a second time would pain you much more than any animal attack.

but it wasn’t there. all that was carried in his turquoise sea’s was vulnerability and faith. niall was hanging on a prayer that you would give your relationship a second chance because the adoration he carried for you didn’t deserve to be left to dwindle away because of a stupid argument. but you hadn’t said anything in a while now, so he feared that you really had slipped through his fingers and him and his unrequited devotion would have to regret the harsh words he spat at you weeks ago forever.

“if you don’t feel the same” he let out a large breath and started to make his way to the door, “that’s okay. but at least promise me you’ll leave me as your emergency contact until you find someone better than Ana because she got you in this situation in the first place.”

“niall wait, please stay.” you croaked and he looked up at you once again, the ocean that’s his eyes flooding with tears threatening to spill.

“really?”

“yes. please. i- it’s only been a month and look how i’m doing w-without you! please. all i want is for you to not leave me.”

niall felt his heart splinter in his chest at your croaky words as they took them back to when he lashed out at you. all you wanted was to be near him and it pained him to walk away from you once, to deny you both of your relationship would surely send him to his grave.

he lunged and wrapped his arms around you, large hands gripping tufts of your sweater, clinging on to you in order to ground you both in what had to be a dream. “of course i’m staying, princess. never gonna leave ya angel girl. i’m so sorry.”

the two of you stayed like that until the nurse came back with some medicine and your release papers, his gaze never leaving yours as you filled out the needed information, the rosy blush of your cheeks evident against the harsh red scratches.

——

“If you want… I can go beat up those guys for you. Defend my lady’s honor and all that, hmm?” He asked, smattering kisses down the side of your neck, your giggles causing him to blow a raspberry in order to make more of them come out of you and he was successful.

“i never want to see them again. and i’m going to have to stay away from big dogs for a long while. i’ll probably have to stay away from everyone for a while.” you let out, fingers tracing the marks tainting your skin, a frown etched on your face.

the elevator doors opened as he spun you around to face him in the parking lot “hey none of that! you look fucking badass, baby!”

“really?” you asked with so much insecurity and want in your tone that his heart practically shattered.

“of course you do! look like a sexy spy or something! just fought off a mess of bad guys!”

niall wrapped his arms around your front, your back pressed to his chest as the two of you made your way to his car.

“maybe i can say i was protecting you from some bad guys.” you teased, his gasp making you laugh already.

“oi! we must have been apart longer than i thought petal because you seemed to have forgotten i’m a tank, thank you very much!”

#niall #niall horan #niall horan blurb #niall blurb #niall horan fluff #niall fluff #niall horan fic #niall fic #niall angst #niall horan angst #niall fanfic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan drabble #niall drabble #nhff #niall james horan #niall horan heartbreak weather #niall heartbreak weather #niall horan flicker #niall flicker #niall horan hbw #niall hbw #amie writes

[barnes-dameron]

i just read your mando x reader with hypothermia and i absolutely loved it!! it is one of my favorite tropes 😩 can i request a steve x reader with hypothermia? bc after reading that one and absolutely loving it, all i want is your take on how steve would react! i love you and your writing so much!! thank you 🥰🥰

Warming Up

*not my gif

Steve Rogers x reader

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: So sorry this took so long. I wrote a good portion of it, and then 75% of it got deleted! I haven’t written anything in the Marvel universe in awhile, so this was a nice surprise. Pre-endgame, pre-infinity war, pre-Civil War. Gender neutral reader

***

Steve trod towards the Quinjet through the deep snow. The cold biting at his cheeks turning them to a rose pink, and his pants from the knees down were soaked. It was a simple mission in Northern Canada, during the time of the year where the snow was heavy and the wind was harsh. He told you to stay in the jet so at least you could stay warm. As he approached the quinjet, Steve’s heart began to pick up despite the cold when he saw that the light in the quinjet was off.

Steve began to sprint across the wintery landscape, kicking up snow as he ran towards the quinjet. Why was it not running? Why is there no sound? Why is the light in the cockpit off? He hurriedly opened up the hatch, the interior of the jet setting a chill down his spine; not from the cold but the thought of you silently suffering in this freezing temperature. It was enough to cause Steve to panic.

He opened the hatch to the Quinjet, and ran up the ramp, surprised to feel how cold it was; almost as cold as it was outside. The interior was dark, the only source of light coming from the windshield in the cockpit. Steve looked around and could not see the shape of your body in the haul. Treading carefully, he made his way to the cockpit. 

Steve hated the cold. He couldn’t remember much from his years being preserved in frozen ice, but the mere memory of his plane going down was enough for him to loathe it. He did remember shivering, the frigid air enveloping him, and his body systems shutting down causing him to sleep and wake up decades later. It was torture for him to be trapped. He thought that was how he would die, and he wouldn’t wish that on anyone...especially not you. 

Steve entered the cockpit, and finding you in the pilot’s seat, his heart dropping at the sight. You were curled up, huddled in the chair. Your skin was a paler color than usual, your body was shivering, goosebumps covered your skin, and your teeth clattered softly behind your frozen lips. Steve reached out a hand, pressing it to your cheek, and immediately retracting it after the brief contact. You were ice cold. Biting the inside of his cheek, Steve touched you again, placing two fingers on your inner wrist. He concentrated on finding your pulse, but it was weak barely even there. 

Quickly, Steve dragged you off of the chair and settled you on the floor. The window must’ve been the source; the cold air was seeping in. He noted that in his mind, making sure to let Tony know. Steve positioned your side to rest on his chest as he settled down on the floor next to you. He positioned your knees to press against your chest, while encircling your own arms around him. He then wrapped his arms around your figure, pressing you into his warmth. He placed your head to rest in the crook of his neck so the warmth of his breath could began to warm your face. 

As Steve held you in his arms on the Quinjet floor, his thoughts began to bombard him one by one. Why did he take so long on this mission? It was hardly a mission, mostly reconnaissance. He was supposed to scope out the area to see if the target of a potential threat were to show, but he didn’t. Steve could’ve left his post early, and it wouldn’t have made a difference. You wouldn’t be cold, and the both of you would be far away from here. Why didn’t he learn how to manage the Quinjet? Or just learn the basics for that matter? Whenever the Avengers went out on a mission, it was usually Tony or Sam piloting or handling the general maintenance and mechanics of the aircraft. His only experience was back in the 40′s, and he crashed that one. If he knew these things, he could’ve gotten the system working by now, filling the haul with heat and flying you back home. However, the only person who knew anything about the Quinjet was in his arms. 

It was all those reasons that Steve felt so helpless at this moment. Being a hero or even portrayed as a hero means that people automatically assume that he has no fear, and in truth, he didn’t have much to fear, except right now. The mere thought of losing you caused Steve’s head to pound with anxiety. And seeing you like this, frozen and fragile on the brink of death, it was enough to make his blood run cold even though the temperature outside failed to do so already. 

He didn’t know how long he stayed on that floor, praying for you to be okay and wake up from your slumber, willing all the heat from his body to leave him and go to you. Steve himself was beginning to doze off until he felt a shift in movement from between his arms. 

“S-S-t-t-eve?” you whispered, your teeth still chattering as you did so. 

Steve looked down to your face. Your eyes were barely open, but he could the pools of color beneath the eyelids. Hope surged within him as well as a burst of energy. 

“Hey,” he cooed, rubbing his hands over your arms. “Hey, it’s me. What happened here?” 

“I-I-I d-d-don’t-t-t k-know,” you stuttered out, snuggling closer to his warmth. “I-I-I f-fell asleep-p w-w-waiting-g f-for y-you.”

Steve nodded, then rested his head on top of yours. 

“Can you move at all?” he asked. 

“I-I c-can m-move m-my f-f-fingers,” you answered, holding up a weak hand and wiggling them before his eyes. “B-but n-not-t m-my arm-s or l-legs.” 

Steve nodded again, looking around the cockpit, his eyes settling on a black trunk in the corner. He unwrapped his arms from around you and began to shuffle away, towards the trunk. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said, making sure you wouldn’t fall over. 

You stayed put as he made his way to the box, opening it to find contents of an emergency kit inside. He ruffled through the various objects, only picking up what he needed. Steve withdrew a flashlight, a thermal blanket, a tool kit, and a small portable heater that didn’t need to be plugged into anything. He returned to his spot beside you, wrapping you in the blanket and turning on the heater, directing it so the heat hits you. Steve resumed to his previous position, giving you all the warmth you need to feel normal. 

Steve didn’t measure the time passing by using a clock, but more so with your little achievements. After some time, you were able to move your limbs so that they were spread out instead of close to your body. After more time, you were able to move them around with full range of motion. Then after a while, you were able to speak without your teeth chattering. Every little thing brought joy to Steve as he saw light returning to your eyes, and color to your face. 

When you were ready, you got up, grabbed the tool kit, and went to fix what was broken on the jet. Steve trailed behind you, and stayed close to you the whole time. Feeding you tools when you asked for them, watching over your shoulder both to learn from you and admire how smart you are. It didn’t take long for the jet to come back to life; the lights flickering on, the engine beginning to hum, and the heat once again warming the interior. Smiling at your accomplishment, Steve helped you get to the cockpit, your limbs still a little weak and stiff, and settled you in the pilot’s seat. He watched you attentively as you brought the jet into the air and set the coordinates to the Avengers compound. 

“Let’s get away from this Godforsaken place,” you sighed heavily. 

“Please,” Steve responded, settling in the passenger’s seat somewhat besides yours. It was quiet in the Quinjet as you flew the craft back home. The events that occurred began to settle and weigh on Steve. He could’ve lost you. He remembered the slow pulse of your heart rate. If he would’ve placed his fingers on your wrist and felt nothing, he didn’t know what he would do... with you or himself. Steve looked up to see your profile outlined from the gradual returning light, your eyes shining with life, and he smiled. “I’m sorry.” 

He watched as you turned your head back to look at him, confusion traced in your eyes as you furrowed your brows at him. 

“For what?” you asked. 

“It’s my fault that you nearly froze to death,” he began, reverting his eyes a bit towards his lap. “It’s my fault that-”

“Was it your fault that the Quinjet powered down?” you questioned, your tone shifting to a more serious one, causing Steve to look up and meet your gaze. 

“No,” he answered softly. 

You gave him a lopsided smile, causing his heart to skip a beat. 

“Then it wasn’t your fault, Steve,” you replied. “Just because you’re Captain America doesn’t mean you have to carry all the world’s burdens.” 

“I was just so scared,” Steve revealed. “You were so cold, I thought I might’ve lost you. If I did, I don’t know what I would’ve done with myself.” 

“But I’m okay,” you reassured, giving him another smile. “Your love warmed me up.” 

Steve let out a little chuckle before turning his gaze to the window. It was not often that he got shy or bashful, but you always knew how to make him feel that way. Steve felt heat rise to his cheeks, knowing that his face was probably pink by know, but he didn’t care. The rest of the ride was ridden in a comfortable silence, leaving the events that transpired in the cold. The only thing that matter was love’s warmth that was present within the jet. 

***

Taglist:  @tangledlove27 @absurdthirst @caswinchester2000 @16boyfriends-and-me @notabotiswear

#steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #captain america #captain america imagine #Steve Rogers #marvel #MCU #marvel cinematic universe #Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #fluff #writing #fanfic #marvel fanfic

[musclesandhammering]

I'm not fond of the pairing but from what I've seen General public actually loves Sylki very much. Even the trade reviews called the relationship "genius" which,,,ok. Someone did a poll on various platforms, yt, reddit, fb, twitter etc comparing which ship is better (Lokius or Sylki) and it was Sylki who won by large margin in the end. I suppose mostly they just don't care because it's sci fi and a pairing in a totally unrealistic show, and after Wandavision I guess weird ships are 'in' but yeah it makes you think. But the writers already said they won't give in to the fan pressure bc they have their own story to tell (which ok, valid, you do you) but idk. I guess we will get even more Sylki in second season. Tom already said Loki won't stop searching for her

Sometimes I think casual fans are the most irritating thing about being in a fandom :/

Just as a disclaimer (bc I don’t want people coming for me): I think lokius is really cute, and I love fics/art/headcanons about them, but I never thought they were canonically romantically interested in each other. I never thought lokius was gonna be canon, and I never wanted it to (because I didn’t want ANY romance in the series), so I don’t even include it in my argument against s*lki.

Ok so….. listen. This is gonna be a long ass post, so I’m putting it under a cut. Sorry, anon, but you’re the one that opened the Worm Can.

The viewing public, in general, tends to heavily skew towards heterosexual-presenting ships. Partially because a portion of the general audiences are homophobic, and partially because a lot of non-tumblr fans are so sick of hearing tumblr stans go on and on and on about how they were queerbaited by certain gay ships not becoming canon, when in reality, said ships are trash.

Listen. I sympathise with that. I get that. I know I’m beating a hornet’s nest with this, but…. D*stiel? J*hnlock? St*cky? None of those were written in any way to invoke queer undertones, they were always supposed to be platonic, and tbfh even as platonic relationships the first two are literally toxic and abusive as hell, anyway.

So I definitely understand how a casual straight fan on Twitter or Instagram would see some of those same crazy “we were queerbaited” tumblr stans ranting about lokius not becoming canon and how much s*lki sucks and……. it makes sense that they’d be like “These people are just pissed that their gay ship isn’t canon, that’s why they hate s*lki.”

But here’s the thing. I don’t think those people realise how callous it is to say something like that when the only reason queer kids are so quick to ship any two male characters who express a modicum of affection for one another, is that they’re so fucking starved for representation in the first place, they’re willing to see queer romance in any same-sex interaction. They’re just that desperate. That’s where the whole crazy gay stan thing comes from. And yeah, it’s annoying that these people put their whole chest into defending gay ships that are total trash, but you have to realise why they do it.

So, what I’m saying is, for s*lki shippers- who are already winning, because their straight ship had the privilege of easily becoming canon despite all its flaws- to look at queer people who are frustrated to the point of tears that they were once again conned out of any form of queer rep (for the mcu’s first canon queer character, for gods sake) after actually genuinely being queerbaited this time (with his bisexuality/genderfluidity)….. and to essentially gloat that their straight ship became canon and taunt queer people by saying “oh you’re just desperate for two men to kiss”………… idk, man. It just seems real cold to me. Reeks of straight privilege and heteronormativity.

Ok, so with that being said.. let me respond to your actual ask lol.

I’m not surprised at all that s*lki won the popularity polls. I think a large reason for that is the fact that it was pitted against lokius, which sorta rubs a lot of casual viewers the wrong way for reasons listed above. I’m also not surprised that casual viewers liked it outside of its opposition to lokius- because, um, casual viewers aren’t very smart.

They tend to analyse exactly nothing, they don’t look any deeper than the surface, and if the writers of a show stick a hot man and woman together under a blanket, they eat it up. Because the narrative tells them it’s sweet. Just like the narrative tells them Loki is a greasy asshole who had no character development up until this point, and they eat that up too. Just like the narrative tells them that sylvie’s the best thing since sliced bread, and they eat that up too. Just like the narrative tells them it’s completely in character for Loki to try to subjugate a group of 3 random Mongolians in the middle of the dessert for absolutely no reason other than his “narcissism”, and they eat that up too. Just like the narrative tells them that one throwaway line about liking “a bit of both” is somehow this groundbreaking example of lgbt representation, and they eat that up too……… See the pattern here?

And as far as being concerned about the pseudo-incest angle, I don’t even think casual fans even dug that deep. They literally just saw two main characters- a pretty white woman and a hot white man- doing cool fight scenes together and giving each other goo goo eyes, and they were automatically sold.

And the writers saying “we won’t give in to fan pressure, we have our own story to tell” is honestly complete bullshit. What the hell is the POINT of working for a corporate film company and telling a story on screen if not to please the fans??? They do what they do to get people to watch their shows to get lots of money. That’s literally what they’re there for. Mike Waldron must have a pretty damn inflated sense of self importance if he thinks his own “artistic vision” or what the hell ever is the priority here lmao.

And I wanna be mad about Season 2, I really do. But at this point Season 1 ruined the character so much for me that I legitimately don’t even care what direction they take him in.

#this is probably all over the place and semi-incomprehensible but oh well #sometimes ya just gotta rant #topic: queerbaiting in cinema #loki deserved better #antisylki #anti mike waldron #anti sylvie #@marvel I hate you #anti casual fans #frosty bby #queerbaiting #anti loki series #loki series critical #loki series negativity #ask #anon #language tw

[teamfreewill2pointo]

Transcript of End of the Road Special

Transcript of End of the Road Special. 

Please let me know if I made any errors in transcription. Twitter version Family Don’t End with Blood Transcription Winchester Mythology Transcription

Dabb: Ultimately, we came up with something that we're all very proud of Singer: You never know what the audience is going to like so we really tried to say "what would make us happy? Would we be satisfied with where we've taken them?"

The Carry On song was a guideline.

Singer: The myth of what these brothers were throughout 15 years... We didn't shy away from fatalism, but we wanted to be able to have it be kinda uplifting as well.

Dabb: If you're going to do something that feels like a complete arc, you have to kinda go back to the beginning of it (clips of them hunting vamps from s1 & 15.20) When it comes to Sam & Dean- it's all about getting back to, in some ways, these two guys on the road in this car.

Dabb: They've been doing this job for 15 years now. They've fought everyone from demons to vampires to God himself, but at the end of the day, they're still working guys, out there on the road & taking cases. We've tried to never lose sight of that.

Dabb: There are times when we've been wrapped up in our own mythology a little bit. We've always tried to get back to the basics, which are: these two guys, saving people, hunting things. 

Eugenie: I think we sort of knew generally what the ending would involve.

Eugenie: We might not have known the mechanics, but we sort of knew there would be a victorious, glorious sacrificial ending bc I think sacrifice is a big theme in the series.

For every great thing you do, a cost must be paid.

Singer: Andrew & I talked about it. We were in agreement pretty quickly... talked to the rest of the writing staff & let them know what we wanted to do and we were open to suggestions. And then we pretty much pitched it to Jared and Jensen.

Jensen talks about flying to LA. Jensen: So before we ever even started 15, we knew how the last portion of the story was going to go. We didn't know how we were going to get there, but we kinda knew the final- the finish line- we knew what... what that was going to look like.

Jared: I don't think there's ever been a season of SPN in 15 years where the way the writers thought the show would play out for that season- ended up being the way it played out And so we were aware of that. They told us here's what we're thinking, here's what happens to Castiel

Jared: In the finale, Dean dies & Sam lives on. And then we think they're going to meet up in heaven. 

I remember Jensen... just because I know him so well- he seemed to bristle a little bit.

Jensen: It was hard to hear then & it was hard to read now. Not because I didn't like it, not because I wished it had gone differently... I'm not adverse to it. I think it's a great ending. I'm proud to film it.

Singer: And we just aimed for that, you know, throughout the season. We knew where we were going.

Jensen: Reading it & knowing that... there's just a weight that is so much larger reading these scripts than I've ever experienced before. 

There's an emotional weight that these scripts are going to carry & these episodes are going to have that I don't think we've ever seen before.

Brad: [J2] were so young when all of this started. They brought to it such conviction & such commitment to the effort. 

That's one of the things that kept the show going for so many years... a show that was designed for very young guys, footloose & fancy free, & on the road…

Brad: To see these guys grow up b4 your eyes into- men, not boys any longer- was amazing. 

BABY Jared: Though the story does involve Sam & Dean chasing supernatural things, it really is a story about two brothers that love each other & ultimately will do anything for each other.

Jensen: There's really one person that gets it on the level that I get it, and that's Jared. Jared: I've never spent as much time with another human being as I have with Jensen Ackles. He will be my friend and brother forever. And I know that.

BABY Jensen: There's a lot of dynamics between the two brothers, there's a lot of history between them, there's a lot of banter between them... it's good stuff S15 Jensen: We had a partner in crime & we leaned on each other for, you know, for times when it was tough.

Jensen: But we also won together. We got to share the experience of success & the experience of getting picked up for another season. Watching these two characters go through what they're going through, when we're working 14 hours & it's 2-3 o’clock on a Sat morning and we're just now finishing filming out in the rain and mud and we gotta race to the airport to get on a plane because we've got a photoshoot in LA & we've gotta do on camera interviews and we gotta promote the show that we love so much that we were just in the mud & the rain filming hours before we're exhausted and it's like there's only one person that gets that right now. That gets how I feel and that's this guy standing next to me. That's pretty cool. That's pretty cool to have somebody like that.

Brad: We knew it was going to be impossible to tie up every aspect of all of the cans of worms that we opened up. 

We did want to bring a proper ending to the guys, the guy's relationship.

Brad: Then of course we had this huge corner we painted ourselves into with the most powerful thing in the universe being the big bad of the season. We try and find a proper send off for Jack & for Cas. What to do w/ the boys & is that a together farewell or an individual?

It was just... lots of moving parts. 

Dabb: I give a lot of credit to Bobo who really was the one who started banging the drum early & often to ending the mythology in 19 and end the characters in 20.

Brad: You're battling God & battling God & you have this epic situation going on through the first 3/4 of the show & then what? You send off Dean in act 4? That just felt wrong. Eugenie: We had this obligation, it was really mandatory, that we tie up the mythic narrative and leave the final episode for the emotional resolution. I [was] more on the side of not wanting to best God. To have God change to be more like his creations. So there were philosophical arguments, but we always knew God's resolution was going to be a big ticket item.

Jensen: We'd started day 1 of the 2nd to last episode, 19. We were 1 day down on that episode & we were just about to start our 2nd day & we got the call that morning that we were not going to be coming in that day.

Jensen: So we figured ok, we'll figure out protocol, figure out what we need to do, & we'll just regroup, come back on Monday. As that day progressed, it was like- this looks like more of an apocalypse that is ascending upon us than just a bad cold.

They pulled the plug & they said everybody go home. 

Singer: Fortunately, we got assurance from both the studio & the network that one way or another we were gonna finish the series. That was comforting to us, but we didn't know when we were going to go back.

Eugenie: We didn't know what we were going back to... if this was the last time we would ever see the set. There was no plan. It was just get out of dodge. Dabb: When it first happened, we thought it would be a couple of weeks, maybe a month.

I had conversations w/WB where they expected everyone to be back shooting in June & then things got worse & pushed & pushed.

Eugenie: Slowly as we settled into that 4 or 5 month period, discussions were going on w/the studio, & the networks, & the actors. We knew there would be restrictions on what we were allowed to shoot, but finally, the mechanics were figured out. 

Singer: So they were ready to go pretty quickly, shooting in Van, where covid wasn't quite as virulent as it was [in LA].

Dabb: We were one of the first shows, one of the first WB shows to start back up. So in a way, we were kinda a guinea pig. But, in being that, I think everyone took it really seriously. We had 0 positive tests. Crew members weren't going out on the weekends.

They were like look, if I get sick, it hurts the whole show. That speaks to the family culture up there, where we've had so much of our crew for so long. Where J2 & Singer provide such great leadership.

Singer: When I was in prep for 20, I was basically in the office but couldn't go to the set. It was very odd for me not to be able to go to the set while I was in prep. 

Everybody just hung in there & did what they were supposed to do.

Brad: Then we were faced with the dilemma of having to rewrite a lot of the stuff bc of the pandemic bc of the limitations that we knew were going to come on the production.

Jensen: We were gearing up for, not only the end of that season, but the end of the series. There was a lot of big, big things written-packed- into those last two scripts.

Jared: At first, it was supposed to be a lot of our old cast from prior seasons in a Roadhouse with Kansas.

Everybody had already agreed. Kansas was going to be in Van. We were going to have dad there & mom there. Just probably 20 or 30 different actors & actresses who had been a part of the SPN's canon over the last 15 & a half years.

Jensen: It was scheduled to be the last day that we were going to film, so it was almost like rolling right into a nice wrap party on camera. 

Brad: The idea of flying a boatload of ppl up there to quarantine for 2 weeks so they could shoot for a day was making less & less sense.

Eugenie: How do we make this work? And while you're doing that, you also don't want to sacrifice the heart and soul of the project. 

So we came up with a reduced, much more intimate ending. It has been replaced by something equally magical & rewarding.

Singer: I felt an enormous responsibility in directing the finale of a show that's been on for 15 years. Andrew, when he saw the cut, he said some really nice things to me as to, you know, the way I handled the material.

Jensen: The scenes that were filmed on our last day on the sound stages were filled with the most emotion of the final episode. 

Singer: One of the really hard things was we're on another stage that wasn't the MoL stage & they started wrecking the MoL sets

They'd been working on this set and been apart of this- this family for just as long if not longer than the set's been around. I was like "it's really sad seeing this get taken down" and the other guy said, "I'm trying to hold back tears while I'm swinging this hammer."

Jared: As we start saying goodbye to characters, to locations, like it just seems like every day you would wake up and there would be some reason to cry. 

Misha: This is a show ultimately about love, & empathy, & caring, & I think that Castiel embodies that.

Misha: Half the crew was crying. It was really such a sweet, supporting environment to be in for the demise of a character that, of course, for me is really important. 

But it was so lovely to see that, you know, the folks that I'm- I'm working with were also there for Cas at that moment. 

Alex: To get to work with these caliber people & see your friends every day is really special & is not something that often happens in this business for this long. It's been definitely a topsy turvy last couple weeks here with us and the crew. 

Jared: Friday of the final full week was the big scene in the barn with the vampires where Dean suffers his fate. They did the first two days with the entire stunt team & the young boy actors. 

And then they cut it for Thursday night and they're like, okay, Friday, tomorrow, we’re starting the dialogue. Dean, you're on the post. Sam, you just cut off the last vampire's head.

That was the scene- that was where Supernatural was really encapsulated. 

Jensen: And then the next week we kind of had this- on the road encore get together filmmaking scenario that felt more like we made it & it was more pats on the back as opposed to tearful goodbyes. 

Dabb: In a weird way you can look at the 15 seasons is like Sam & Dean's emotional evolution. You know instead of therapy, they kill vampires, but other than that it's kind of the same & brings them both to a very good place. And a place where they can, as the song says, you know, lay their weary head to rest. 

This felt like the most honest & emotionally fulfilling episode for these characters to us. Jared: I got thinking about how Supernatural started & how the majority of times how I thought it should end. It started with Sam & Dean Winchester. I think it's proper that it ended with Sam & Dean Winchester together again. 

Jensen: When the cameras stop rolling & Bob yelled, “Cut!” and Bob yelled, “That’s a series wrap on Supernatural.” There was- a there was a loud cheer that echoed through that canyon we were filming in. I will- I will happily say that there were hugs that happened and that needed to happen. Those are people that I spent not just years with, but so much time with- it's like brothers in arms and so to put it to bed the way that we did felt really good and then felt good to hug some people, I'll tell you that much. Singer: I thanked everyone, but I wanted to really thank people who had been with us from the beginning and as I looked around, there were so many people who had been there from the beginning.

We really were a family. I always say about this show is one of the reasons that it was a success and is that it was not only about the Winchester family, but it was about the Supernatural family. 

Jared: So now that's all said and done, I guess I can look back at it and just be proud that I helped this show carry on and I'm really proud of the blood, sweat, and tears that I put in, and I feel like- I feel like that sacrifice was also maybe one of the things I learned from Sam, you know? Sam had to sacrifice a lot. So, I'm honored and flattered and grateful that I got to be a part of that journey.

Dabb: You're never going to have another show like this. You're never gonna have another experience like this. For a lot of different reasons, from how long it ran, from the family that the show became, from the amazing fans that we have. [Footage of us] From the emotional investment people can put in over 15 years of their lives. 

Some started watching this when they were in high school, when they were 15, they're 30 now, they might have kids. That's their- that's like half their life. They've been with this show. You're not gonna have that again. Shows just aren’t gonna run this long, especially genre shows, but I don't know that I'm ever gonna do anything else in my career that I'm gonna be more proud of than having been involved in this show. 

Jared: The things that stick out are just how important it is to keep putting one foot in front of the other. And keep on working and wake up every day and treat it like it could be your last and- and if you make it out the other side, you'll be happy and proud of what you did. 

Jensen: The crew had packed up, they had cleared the bridge, and they were all starting to, you know, load their trucks and get moving. And Jared and I just kind of hung back, and we just took a moment. I looked at him and I said, “I’m proud of us, man. I'm proud of what we've done.”

We know that that's the collective we, that is everyone that is involved, that is- you know from the top down. You know, for our portion, for what we contributed to this monster of the show, he and I reflected on that, and still able to see and smell the roses.

#supernatural #spn #spnfamily #spn family #spn 15.20 #spn s15 #spn s15 spoilers #carry on #spn finale #spn spoilers #sam winchester #dean winchester #jared padalecki #jensen ackles #brotherlylove #sam&dean #brothers man #bts #actor opinions

[star--anon]

Stuck

"The fuck?" Wilbur muttered, watching his computer screen lag and crash. If it wasn't so abrupt, he would have gotten mad at all the lost work. As it was, he simply sat there, confused. Had the power tripped?

A quick - and unnecessary - glance at his lamp told Wilbur that the power was still on, which only puzzled him more. After a moment, it registered that his ceiling lights were also on. Feeling somewhat stupid, Wilbur tried to think of other explanations for the abrupt shortage of power in his computer.

And he found it.

A quick peek behind his desk told him all he needed to know. His computer had unplugged itself. And really, it wasn't all the hard to see why.

"It's a fucking jumble of wires back there," Wilbur muttered, getting up from his seat to get a better look. Wires, black, red, blue, green, ran around the hidden area, coiling around one another and tangling into big knots. One small tug could easily unplug several devices.

It was going to take a while to sort out.

Being lazy, Wilbur simply wrote a small sticky note remind to clean up the wires. As of right now, he decided that all he needed to do was to replug the cord to his computer. He would deal with everything else later.

What? He had editing to do! (The realization that he had lost at least three hours of editing was also staring to sink in.)

And it would have worked out just fine! Wilbur would have been able to redo all of his lost work and have his video out by tomorrow!

...Except, it seemed like fate had other ideas.

The electrical socket his computer's cord was supposed to be plugged into was a little further in and lower than Wil had initially expected. As a result, Wilbur had to get on his stomach and scoot his way over. After a few failed attempts and a lot of curses, Wilbur managed to replug his computers. Almost immediately, the fans in his computer began turning and the Microsoft power-on noise sounded above.

As Wilbur tried to scoot his way back out, a sharp tug on his left hand quickly make him stop. He froze, not wanting to knock anything over. These wires were taut. One pull would send whatever those wires were connected to falling down on top of him. With great care, Wilbur tried to untie his hand from the wires.

All he succeeded in doing was tangling his right hand too.

Yeah, there was problem. Phil was most likely out of the house with Tubbo. Wilbur vaguely remembered him telling Tubbo he had found a new beehive. Techno was probably off beating up the dummies behind their house again. That left Tommy, who he knew for a fact was upstairs.

Fuck it, Wilbur eventually decided. His reputation wasn't worth the risk of dying of electrocution.

"Tommy? Tommy, you there? Tommy! Tommy, come quick, I need your help!" Wilbur yelled. He waited. When no response came, he yelled again. And again. And again. And again.

A minute passed. Then two. Then three. Then five.

Still, nobody came.

Just as Wilbur was beginning to fear the nobody was home, he heard small pattering footsteps from outside. His bedroom door creaked open and the gentle footsteps came inside. He let out a sigh of relief. Stuck between the wall the wall and his desk, with nothing but the wires arounds his hands to keep him entertained, Wilbur had began to panic a little. Thankfully, help had finally-

"Pffffttttt," snorted Tommy, slapping a hand over his mouth. "Whahat the shit? Wilbur? What the fuck happened?"

Wilbur flushed, embarrassed. He swung a leg behind him, trying to kick Tommy.

"I come in," Tommy managed to say through his laughter, "annoyed as fuck because I was trying to set up my camera, and all I see is-"

Tommy broke off in loud cackles.

"Shut up, Tommy," Wilbur snapped, glad that the boy couldn't see his red face. "Just help me get out of here!"

Still giggling, Tommy made his way over to Wilbur. Since Wil took up all the space between the desk and the wall, Tommy was forced to scooch under the desk and work through an opening in a portion of the table. Gradually, Tommy helped Wilbur untangle himself from the wires. After making sure that nothing would fall on him, Tommy gave him the go-ahead for Wilbur to make his way out from underneath the desk.

Yet again, it seemed like fate had different ideas.

Because Tommy had to work with Wilbur through the desk, that also meant Wilbur had to work with Tommy through the desk. Although Tommy managed to help get Wilbur's hands free from wires, they were now effectively stuck underneath the desk.

"Are you kidding me right now?" snapped Tommy, irritated. What had began as a hilarious situation turned out to be a frustrating distraction from his camera-fixing.

"No, I am not kidding you right now!" Wilbur snapped back. "Now come here and help."

Working together was not Wilbur and Tommy's strong suit, and it isn't all that hard to see why. Tommy liked to be respected, but the other didn't think he deserved as much respect as he demanded (and he's right). The issue that often occurred was Tommy feeling mistreated by Wilbur.

So, as if Wilbur didn't already have enough complications to deal with, that problem had now officially entered the chat.

"You know, I had to stop fixing my camera, come down here, and help you get out from a few wires, and I don't even get a 'thank you'?"

"I'll thank you when I'm out of here. Now help me, for fuck's sake!"

Tommy glared at Wilbur, and Wilbur glared right back. Tommy sat there, angry.

"I don't need this," Tommy muttered. He sharply poked Wilbur's side. "Help yourself then."

He expected Wilbur to shut up. He expected Wilbur to be very grumpy. He expected Wilbur to apologize and call him back.

What he did not expect was for Wilbur to squeak.

-

And then Tommy, under the pretense of teaching Wilbur how to be nice, wrecks him. Yeah, I ain't writing that. I mainly do unfinished fics/prompts bc I'm too easily embarrassed to write stuff like that...

>///<

Right, anyway. Once you've written the tkling part that I'm too chicken to write, you can pick it up below.

-

"T-Tehehechno!" yelped Wilbur, pulling at his wrists. "Phihihil! Sohohohomebohody! H-Hehehelp!"

Wilbur let out an embarrassing, high-pitched squeal as Tommy hit a more sensitive part of his stomach. He tried kicking, but Tommy sat on his legs, effectively pinning them down.

"Aw, Wilbur is asking others for help~" Tommy teased, speeding up his fingers. "Is wittle Wilbur upset? Is wittle Wilbur getting despwerate? Is wittle Wilbur-"

"Shuhuhuhut the fuhuhuck up!" Wilbur demanded through his giggles. Tommy rolled his eyes.

"Some people never learn," he muttered, leaning down. He drew sharp breaths and blew quick, small raspberries all over Wilbur's exposed stomach. Wilbur could do nothing but arch his back and cackle loudly.

"WAHAHAHAIT! I-IHIHIHI'M SOHOHORRY!" Wilbur tried to apologize. "TEHEHECHNO, HEHEHELP!"

"Techno's not home, Wilbur," Tommy said, digging his fingers between Wilbur's ribs. Slowly, making sure to lightly scratch at each rib, Tommy made his way up Wilbur's ribcage, silently counting each rib. As his fingers got higher, so did the volume of Wilbur's laughs.

And his panic. He knew where Tommy was going.

"D-Dohohon't you dahare," Wilbur said, trying to be scary. Tommy placed his hands on Wilbur's underarms, innocently looking up at Wilbur. The older glared at him and Tommy had to struggle to not grin. With Wilbur's bright red face, messy hair, wide smile, and nervous giggles, he didn't look nearly as intimidating as he thought he did.

"I'm gonna do it~" Tommy sang. Wilbur tensed.

"Y-You wouldn't."

"I would."

"I-I'll get you back," Wilbur tried to threaten. Tommy wasn't fazed. All he needed to do was take one look at Wilbur's cherry-red face for any threats to lose their scariness.

"It'd still be worth it."

"D-Dohont you dahahare," Wilbur demanded. "I'm serious Tohommy."

"You know, you really could have avoided this if you were nicer to me."

Wilbur opened his mouth to respond when a new voice came from behind him.

"Who could have what when if which how why where?"

Tommy froze. He quickly retracted his hands and darted away. He scrambled into the corner of the room, warily eyeing the new member.

"T-Technoblade, my friend!" he nervously stuttered. "H-How are you doing? What brings you here today?"

Techno tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I live here, Tommy. And I couldn't help but get curious at Wilbur's laughing and screaming."

"Not my fault!" Wilbur called from his awkward position. Tommy gulped.

"What's going on?" Techno asked Tommy, glancing at Wilbur. "Why is Wilbur like that? Is he stuck? What were you doing? Tickling him?"

Wilbur squeaked at the word, which caught the attention of Techno. Meanwhile, Tommy sheepishly grinned.

"Aha..." Tommy rubbed the back of his neck and quietly explained the entire situation.

Techno stayed quiet the entire time, processing what he had heard. Then, without a word, he walked over to Wilbur. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Tommy trying to slip away.

"Tommy, stay there," he ordered. Tommy immediately stopped moving. Techno squatted down in front of Wilbur. To him, he asked, "You good? Lookin' a little red there."

"I'm fine, yeah," Wilbur muttered. "Can you let me up? I have some revenge I wanna be doing."

"Yeah, yeah, you can do that."

Tommy tensed. Oh, he was gonna get it.

"Just, in a moment."

Wilbur blinked.

"In a moment?" he echoed. "What do you mean?"

Instead of responding, Techno simply prodded his hips.

-🌟

#tag me if you use this! #tickle prompt #Starburst! #🌟 #lee!Wilbur #lee!Wilbur Soot #ler!Tommy #ler!Tommyinnit #ler!Techno #ler!Technoblade #Tommy #Tommyinnit #Wilbur #Wilbur Soot #Technoblade #SFW

[himboarcher]

reasons i've seen folks say that grad critics hate grad:

they hate travis (in fairness, i’ve def seen some comments of people shitting on trav for the sake of shitting on trav, but it’s not super common and typically gets downvoted into oblivion on reddit.)

it's not balance / travis isn't griffin (???????)

they hate neurodivergent people (again, in fairness, i have seen a handful of comments that could come across this way! but most of the time when travis being ADHD or his NPD is brought up, it's by defenders saying that criticizing travis is ableist because he's neurodivergent or, in one particular comment, infantilizing him bc of it and literally comparing grad to putting a kid's artwork on the fridge. there were some comments early on that pointed to him being a narcissist as the reason for things people disliked about grad, but everyone seems to have realized that that's a shitty train of thought and left it behind.)

they're just toxic haters (again, there are a small handful of people like this because this is the internet, but the genuine criticism greatly outweighs their bullshit. i 100% think that the people, which is mostly just one dude who is also insufferable on reddit, who have been responding rudely to positive tweets under the episode announcements lately are out of line and need to stop. there's been an influx of that lately, presumably because people are frustrated that after over a year of grad going on, there's been no improvement to most of the major issues. that's still no excuse to be a dick to folks, though.)

vs some of the actual reasons i don't like grad:

the racism / racist tropes, and the way that they’ve straight up ignored this criticism and will likely never acknowledge it. pretty wild considering a core tenet of their brand is their willingness to acknowledge when they’ve messed up and do their best to course correct.

clumsy attempts at inclusion that are shallow and often end up being fairly offensive ("...ask me about my wheelchair," anyone?)

on a related note: i don't think that travis had bad intentions, but as an nonbinary person, it feels othering to me that travis only has enby characters give others their pronouns unprompted. i'm thinking specifically of kai here. having listened to their introduction, i don't think it's as bad or awkward as some people have said, but i can't remember travis ever having another NPC tell the PCs their pronouns, especially not a cis character. it's not a huge deal, but it's something that rubbed me the wrong way. admittedly, i don't think it would bother me so much if travis hadn't dropped the ball so much with performative inclusion in the past.

okay i'm putting the rest under a read more because even without getting into all of the problems i have with it, this got Long.

little to no player agency. player choices are ultimately meaningless and have little to no effect on the world. even when he seems to go along with a plan they come up with, it always ends with them having to go back to travis' pre-written script (see: subpoenaing the xorn, but not really because they had to go with travis' original plan of "send the xorn home through the rift".) the players repeatedly get told things about what they think or feel or what they've been doing to an unnecessary degree. fitzroy is the only one who really gets space to play and decide things for himself, and that's only because travis has decided he's the main character.

the NPCs are all too nice and willing to give the PCs anything they ask for and more, unless the PCs are trying to follow their own plan and then the NPCs are completely useless. but honestly, aside from gray, all of the NPCs are just.... nice. travis refuses to even let his antagonists be mean or cruel or even more than just slightly rude, because that'd be a bummer and we don't want that! the "twist" of gordy the lich king actually being polite and chill is not a twist at all because everyone is like that in this world. the NPCs are also wildly overpowered, but then suddenly absolutely useless when the PCs actually want their help.

too many cliffhangers that are dropped immediately at the beginning of the next episode. i feel bad for travis because so many of these cliffhangers actually set up good momentum and seemed like things were gonna get interesting, but almost every single time he just dropped them at the beginning of the next episode. like when althea showed up to interview the boys and the next episode started with travis being like "actually you went to sleep, she said she'll be back tomorrow!"

that time travis specifically said in his exposition dump that the thundermen left their horses behind because they thought the centaurs might be offended by them riding horses, only to later on rag on them for being surprised that the centaurs had horses they could ride.....

also the centaur arc in general, but i already listed racism above, so.

the way that the toxic positivity and parasocial tendencies in the mcelroy fandoms have made a large portion of the fandom take ANY criticism as a personal attack on travis and/or on themselves for enjoying something others consider bad, either morally or just quality-wise. it’s okay to admit that something you like has problematic elements or just isn’t as good as it once was. you can and should engage critically with the media you consume.

related to above: the way travis has handled genuine criticism, which is to throw public tantrums on his twitter or make weird passive aggressive tweets & ultimately ignore all the genuine criticism and advice he's been offered by claiming it's all subjective, even after he specifically asked for it and set up an email for folks to send in genuine, objective advice for him (after he threw a tantrum on twitter and replied to someone's criticism publicly, which resulted in his followers dogpiling on that person bc how dare they insult their internet best friend). while i was writing this last night, he actually announced that he’s taking a break from Twitter and acknowledged that he’s been using it as an echo chamber where he can easily get validation from folks, and honestly i’m happy for him that he’s recognized this problem and is stepping away for a while! i hope he’ll genuinely use this time to reflect on how he’s been behaving and find a more healthy way to use social media. i’m leaving this point in because i think his Twitter being such a positive echo chamber was encouraging him to do stuff like this, and him somewhat acknowledging his behavior doesn’t mean it can no longer be discussed.

rainer. extremely cool concept in theory and i was very into it until that awkward "does anyone want to ask about my wheelchair?" moment. also when travis had her use her mobility aid to RAM INTO A DOOR instead of just fucking knocking???? also all the times travis has tried to force a romantic relationship between her and fitzroy, despite fitzroy displaying no interest in her in that way. also, just to clarify: as an ace person, i don’t think this is aphobic! (and it’s kind of a stretch to call it that imo, especially since griffin never explicitly said that fitzroy's aromantic!) i just think it’s weird and awkward and a little uncomfortable for me personally, mostly because it reminds me of the times i’ve been in similar situations.

less of a problem than a lot of the other stuff and more just bad writing, but the forced emotional moments. in general, nothing in grad feels earned (why are the boys heading a war? when they have multiple actual heroes with combat experience on their side and a supposedly powerful secret organization? and the thundermen are like 21 years old max and have only had like ~10 fights in the entire campaign?) but there've been a couple times where travis has tried to force unearned emotional moments, presumably because he knows people enjoyed those with the last campaigns. but the difference is that in balance, the big emotional moments happened because they were earned. in grad, it's just travis throwing a baby pegasus at us for a few minutes and then the next time she shows up, it's supposed to be a tearful goodbye.

there are absolutely no stakes. remember when the thundermen got told that if they left, gray would kill 10 students? and then they left and came back and it turns out that what gray actually meant was, "i'll tie ten students who are mostly nameless NPCs to a tree and throw some dogs at them that you can easily stop in time, then throw a tantrum because how dare you but i'll leave before you can really do anything to hurt me lol" travis did have fitzroy's magic get taken away, but like. it didn't really do anything? also all he had to get it back was be coerced into using drugs by an authority figure and trip in the woods?

we're told that the school is weird and the hero system is corrupt, but the world of nua is still presented as more of a liberal utopia than anything? althea getting fired because of a corrupt villain is the only time we've somewhat seen corruption, but even then, she was still allowed to get (what seems to me, anyway, but admittedly i don't know for sure bc nothing about the HOG makes much sense) a fairly important job from the very people who stripped her of her hero license or whatever the fuck heroes need?

travis doesn't actually seem to understand how capitalism or bureaucracy works and just chalks up everything to "red tape." also more on the rest of the boys than him specifically, but the "let's destroy capitalism!" thing turning into just pushing some filing cabinets over................... okay.

and one last piece of extremely subjective criticism: it's just kind of.... boring. i think a lot of people, myself included, would be willing to overlook 90% of the problems with graduation if it didn't feel like such a slog to get through.

also people saying that we can't or shouldn't criticize graduation because it's "free" is absolutely absurd for several reasons. first, something being free does not make it above criticism. second, there ARE people who directly financially support the show with monthly donations. three, there's a difference between something being free and something being not for profit. podcasting is their full time job. they make their living off of money made from TAZ and MBMBAM (and probably their other shows to a lesser extent). this not a fun home game that they are graciously recording and sharing with us. it is a product they are producing that they make money off of, both from ads in the episodes and merch & books based off of these podcasts. they have marketed themselves as professionals, and both griffin and travis have been on panels where they are marketed as professional DMs and appear alongside other professional DMs (which makes it incredibly frustrating when people say that travis is just a newbie DM and we can't criticize him because of that. if he's a newbie, then he should not be taking part of panels as a professional DM where he speaks as an expert). TAZ is free in the same way that an episode of NCIS is free. i may not pay for it directly, but the creators are paid to create it and profit off of me consuming this product. so saying we should be grateful for any mcelnoise that the benevolent good boys share with us and that we're not allowed to criticize it "because it's free" is absolutely wild.

#negativity cw #i guess #anyway this is not meant to say that you cannot enjoy grad. #but i'm tired of folks on this website acting like there aren't genuine problems with it #and saying that people just dislike it bc they hate travis etc etc #taz graduation #i genuinely don't expect anyone to read this bc it's so long #but here ya go. #long post

[mypimpademia]

Worth It.

Shinso x reader

TW: Swearing, reader steals a man, pure bad bitchery

Note: this concept has been in my head for literal MONTHS and now I'm finally writing it bc i had no idea how to before (i still dont know how to write it as I'm writing this, I'm bouta wing it like a mf)

I made Intelli the mean girl for this fic bc she a bitch fr

A college AU but its hardly relevant + a lil smau

Towards the end of writing this, I started hating it. I'm so sorry😭

I recommend this song too bc this is where the idea for this fic came from:

This was getting annoying to watch.

How long was Hitoshi planning to stay miserable with that girl?

Intelli and Hitoshi have been dating for awhile now. You had honestly never liked her, but you just barely tolerated her for Hitoshi. But only a few weeks into their relationship, things went to shit.

Intelli became overly controlling over him, and even tried to force him to stop being friends with you, and some other people. You, being his best friend, told him to break up with her.

Of course, Hitoshi agreed that it'd be best to do that. But not even a few hours after talking to him about it, he came back to say it didn't go as planned.

Intelli was holding blackmail over Hitoshi's head, and posed a huge threat to his dreams of becoming a hero. Most of what she said she'd expose was no where near true, but with her intellect she could easily make people believe it.

But frankly, as their relationship went on, the sight of even a strand of her hair made you want to either puke or fight her.

"Toshi~" Intelli cooed, coming up behind Hitoshi and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Hitoshi visibly cringed, but tried to hide it as best as he could.

"Hey, babe." He boredly muttered, doing a terrible job at faking any enthusiasm.

Unlike your best friend, you made no effort to hide the disgust you held for her sheer presence.

"Y/n..." Intelli muttered, her tone dripping with distaste for you, making you scoff. "Mind if I steal Toshi for a bit? No? Thanks-" She attempted to drag Hitoshi away by the arm, but you placed a firm hand on her shoulder to stop her.

"I do mind actually, we were in the middle of a conversation before you interrupted." You told her. She chuckled, before tugging on Hitoshi's arm more.

"Yes, but he's my boyfriend-" She attempted to give reason for her to take him away, before even Hitoshi stopped her.

"I've got a project I need Y/n to help me on, I can stop by your dorm later though?" Hitoshi suggested, lying through his teeth.

Intelli's eyebrow twitched, but she gave in, letting go of his arm. "Bye, Toshi." She said, kissing Hitoshi's cheek and looking you up and down, before walking off.

"Sometimes, I can't tell if she's just plain a bitch or if she's secretly a dumbass." You sighed. "Maybe she's a little bit of both..." Hitoshi chuckled, making you laugh with him.

"You really need to find someone new." You told him, shaking your head. "I know, but I'd rather not chance losing my dream career." He groaned.

"True... Whats your type anyways? I know its not Intell anymore, she's probably traumatized you." You giggled.

"She did, but I think my type is someone who can really understands me, and someone I can have fun with." Hitoshi said.

"Like a best friend?" You questioned him. "Yeah, exactly like a best friend. That'd be my perfect version of a s/o." He replied, expression growing soft.

Since Intelli and Hitoshi's relationship had gone down hill, you've been there for him more than ever. It eventually lead to this unspoken romance that constantly roamed between the two of you.

But because of Intelli, neither of you pursued it, for the wellbeing of Hitoshi.

"Well, if I were you, I'd find someone and just make sure the bitch doesn't find out." You told him. But if you were being honest, it was more like a suggestion, because he really did need, and deserve someone other than Intelli.

"Like cheating?" He gawked. You were both thinking the same thing— Intelli would likely find out. But it was better than simply being stuck with her, so you nodded.

"Well, I'd at least make sure the other person knows. But it'd be worth it."

'I'm worth it.' You thought.

You sighed, looking down at your phone, the time on your phone displayed.

"Shit, I've gotta get to class, we've got a guest lecturing us and my professor will tear me a new one if I miss it." You told him, stuffing your phone into your pocket.

"See you later?" Hitoshi asked you.

You were about to say something about how he told Intelli they'd hang out later, but decided against it.

"Yeah."

◇◇◇◇◇◇

You sighed, feeling your tired feet throb as you walked down the hall to Hitoshi's dorm. Taking one of your backpack straps off your shoulder, you began rummaging around the pocket where you usually kept the spare key to Hitoshi's dorm.

You blinked, as you weren't able to find the key in the small pocket. You began searching your entire bag in the middle of the hallway, taking nearly everything out.

"Shit." You mumbled, thinking you had lost it.

Then you remembered, 'Thats right, I was in a rush this morning. Its on my desk.' You thought to yourself.

Like hell you were going all the way back there though.

You placed your items back into their bags, then pulled out your phone to text Hitoshi.

You hummed, rocking back and forth on your heels as you waited for the door to be opened.

A moment later, you heard the lock click, and the door swung open.

Hitoshi looked you up and down before smiling. Then looked both ways of the hall, before tugging you into the room and shutting the door.

"Why are you treating me like a side piece or something?" You questioned him.

He hummed in confusion as he locked the door.

"Does it feel like that? Sorry." He apologized. "What did she do this time?" You asked, referring to Intelli, as she wash the only person the put Hitoshi this on edge.

"She said if we were doing anything other than a project we'd break up, and you know what that means." He told you, shaking his head.

You hummed, and pulled out your phone.

"What are you doing?" He asked, peering over your shoulder.

"You'll see." You blunty told him.

You sent your message, and tossed your phone onto his bed.

You grabbed onto Hitoshi's collar, tugging him towards you so he was looking you in the eyes, making his breath hitch as his face tinted red.

"You're crazy if you think I'd get you snitched on." You playfully consoled.

"What did you do?" He questioned again, watching you flop down on his bed as you kicked off your shoes.

"I texted Monoma and Momo to post about a project on private snap that only has Intelli on it so that it'll be more believable." You told him.

Hitoshis eyes went wide, as he mentally questioned how you came up with that so fast.

You patted the space next to you, beckoning him to sit with you.

He sat down, shaking his head and laughing.

You and Hitoshi talked for hours and hours, but it each flew by. When you finally checked the time, you barely had enough time left before dorm visiting hours were over.

"What? Already?" Hitoshi gaped, as he watched you sling your backpack over your shoulder.

"Mhm." You hummed.

He groaned, clearly not wanting you to leave, but sat up anyways so he could come see you out.

Hitoshi unlocked the door for you, but upon opening the door, you were both met with an unwanted sight.

"Hey Toshi!" Intelli greeted, completely passing over you even though she saw you.

"H-hey, Intelli." Hitoshi spurred, trying to keep composure.

"I came to help on the project. Even Momo was complaining, so I thought you could use some help." She offered, clearly not convinced that there was actually a project.

But like you said, you weren't going to let him get caught.

"No, we finished it." You told her bluntly, folding your arms across your chest.

But clearly, Intelli didn't plan on letting up either.

"Well then, I could proof read the written portion." She insisted, taking a step towards you.

"We already did that already."

"Well I'm sure there are some mistakes."

"We triple checked."

Hitoshi looked back and forth between the two of you, silently preparing himself to break up a fight.

"You must not get what I mean—" Intelli straightened her posture more than it already was, and leaned towards you. "There's probably mistakes because it was you helping him." She mocked.

Hitoshi already had a hand reaching for your waist, ready to pull you back in a situation where you lunge at Intelli.

"You wanna talk about mistakes? How about we start with you, bit-" Before you could take a single step towards her, you were being pulled back by your waist.

"Watch your dog, Hitoshi." Intelli retorted.

Damn, was she lucky Hitoshi could hold you back.

"At least I bite, unlike some people." You shot back. She narrowed her eyes, leaning towards you again.

"Y'know Y/n, you're not as good as everyone thinks you are. Everyone thinks you're so great, and nice, but I know how you really are." She said.

"You only think that because everyone's not you. Its no goddamn wonder your blackmail folder is thicker than you." You hissed.

Intelli, clearly flustered that you even knew about her blackmail folder, stood straight again. She crossed her arms and cleared her throat slightly.

"You think youre so much better than me. A better person, a better best friend, you probably think you'd make a better girlfriend too, right?" She asked you.

"Of course I do, who the hell wouldn't?" You chuckled.

You felt Hitoshi's grip on your waist loosen. Either he was getting just as angry and was going to let you fight her, or he thought it the tension was thawing.

"Alright, since you're so much better than me, show me." Intelli insisted.

You smirked. "Alright, you asked for it."

Slipping out of Hitoshi's grip, you turned to face him.

His brows raised in surprise and confusion. And next thing he knew, you had him by the collar for the second time today.

But this time, your lips were pressed against his.

It took him a moment to process, but soon, he melted into it. Moving in sync with you, he placed his hands back on your waist.

As much as you wanted to continue, you still had to tell that bitch off.

Pulling away from Hitoshi, wiping away the string of saliva that connected your mouths, you turned back to Intelli.

You walked straight up to her, and placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Toshi doesn't react like that when you kiss him, does he?" You hummed, hearing Intelli audibly gulp.

"Like you said, I'm a better person, a better best friend, and a better girlfriend." You repeated her words from earlier.

"I wouldn't lie to him, expose him, whether what he did was true or false, and i wouldn't hold him back from doing what he wants." You taunted.

"And the thing is—" You leaned in, next to her ear.

"I dont think it, I know it."

"I'm perfect for him." You whispered to her.

Intelli nearly toppled over in defeat, leaning against the nearest wall to support her body.

"Anyways, see you tomorrow, Toshi." You mused, before walking away.

◇◇◇◇◇◇

The next day, you met up with Hitoshi in your free time like usual.

You were aimlessly walking around campus, talking about random topics, laughing as you watched random people do stupid things, and just having fun.

Except now, you were hand in hand, and the air around the two of you seemed lighter. And the look of adoration you and Hitoshi shared was more evident.

But in the middle of it, of course, something had to happen.

Intelli had stopped you both in your tracks, her brainless groupies behind her.

"Did you know everyone is talking about you, Hitoshi? And with all the things they're saying... you might not be able to recover from it." She said snarkily.

"Not too worried about it actually." Hitoshi admitted, a slightly bored tone to his voice.

"Tch, well you should be. So tell me, was she worth it, Hitoshi?" She inclined.

Hitoshi looked over at you, a grin spreading across his face.

"Hell yeah."

#hitoshi x reader #bnha shinso hitoshi #hitoshi shinso imagine #shinsou hitoshi #hitoshi shinso x reader #bnha shinso x reader #my hero academia shinsou #shinsou headcanons #shinsō hitoshi #bnha shinsou #shinsou imagine #shinsou x y/n #bnha #bnha hcs #bnha headcanons #mha #mha hcs #mha headcanons

[capricxs]

so you’ve been roleplaying for years... things change, the way the community does things shift, and sometimes there’s new skills you need to pick up and adjust to in order to make your time rping as creatively rich and fulfilling as it can be. one of those things that’s become extremely important is plotting & hcing. either in groups, in indie, or doing 1x1s, these two are the foundation to your interaction (unless you’re the type to wing it). sometimes when i interact with people, it seems they don’t really click with this process, so in the guide below, i’ll help to explain why these are so important, and how to do it in a way that not only gives you a rich plot, but helps inspire and keep your writing partner engaged with you.

disclaimer --- this is just my personal experience and opinions being shared. i am not the end-all-be-all on how to interact with writing partners. this is just here to get people to begin thinking about things they otherwise wouldn’t have thought about.

questions regarding this help post can be found here. let’s jump in!

WHY IS PLOTTING & HCING SO IMPORTANT?

firstly, rp has changed a lot since the days of launching into an rp or writing a random starter for a new follower. things are a lot more established and regardless of if you’re in a bio/skeleton rp with pre-written connections, or you’re in a new plotless group or indie and you’re coming up with them on your own, it’s a major foundation to your writing experience, so don’t treat it lightly!

secondly, regardless of format, and with the shifts in rp culture, behind the scenes plotting & hcing is crucial to the development of your plot & characters. as writers, we take more time with our replies so development on dash happens a lot slower. personally i don’t mind that, but i don’t want that to hinder my writing experience so i like taking things behind the scenes to help build up dynamics and situations so the whole relationship isn’t based off one or two threads/instances.

lastly, it helps to keep things inspiring. sound dumb? you bet, but that’s the way the cookie crumbles baby. so many times i have plotted ships, sibling relationships, best friends, or other core relationships, and wanted to sink my teeth in relationship lore and background and dynamics, only to be returned with “hahah yes! i love that!” now i understand this is never ill-intentioned, but it does suck the muse right out the situation. if you do not validate & expand on your partner’s ideas, it’s not going to make that writer’s ideas feel appreciated or loved. the way to tell them you love their ideas? sink your teeth right back and send an equally meaty response right back!

PART ONE: SO YOU WANT TO PLOT

you don’t need this post to tell you how to come up with plot ideas, that’s a whole different guide, but let’s say you’re in the brainstorming process. you’re throwing ideas back and forth based on your muse’s two backgrounds and seeing what sticks. what is SUCH a downer, is when a writing partner is just ... not contributing. yes, we are all guilty of the line “i’m open to anything!” but try and limit yourself to using that line once in a conversation. hell, i prefer it when a person doesn’t even say it at all and they’re HONEST. if i come in guns-a-blazing and i ask ‘what plots do you need filled?’ if a person responds with ‘i need someone who hurt my muse’ there’s two option, i fill that plot, or i don’t. it’s that simple. don’t be afraid to say what you want, the worst that can happen is the person says ‘eh, i don’t really think that fits my character’ and you come up with something else! but when you’re already passionate about the idea, you’re setting yourself up for such great success!

so what do you do when your one (1) braincell isn’t working and you can’t come up with any connection ideas? two options, you can either go to one of the dozens of guides for basic connection ideas and give your partner something, or you can look at the other person’s bio, and your muse, and try and find connections between them. both of these are painfully easy! i’m a personal fan of the latter as it seems a bit more grounded and juicy than the former, but those can be twisted into something great too! **if you’re in a group setting, even asking what that person’s other connections are, and piggybacking off of that. these create super spicy connections. example: you find out muse a is muse b’s ex, and your muse, muse c, is best friends w muse b, so it’s safe to assume your muse c will probably not get along with muse a.

this important thing is not to make your partner feel like they’re doing all the work. because that’s never fun, and truthfully, it doesn’t make that person want to write with you if you’re not also putting in the elbow grease. plotting is fun, not a chore! make it a party!

PART TWO: NOW YOU HAVE TO BACK IT UP

you’ve got your plot now, congrats! and you’re so excited. but now you need that plot to be fleshed out a bit. there’s some history there so you’ve got to establish it. in comes the powerhouse--- my favorite part to this whole thing: HCING. it’s the most laid back, and in my opinion, creative part of the rping process. truthfully, i enjoy it more than threads because of the absolute insanity you can dig up. but i only love it if my partner can hand it back just as i can serve it.

maybe you’ve never quite thought that this part was that important, but i can assure you, if a person is giving you 3+ sentences about the dynamic of your characters, they’re trying to hc with you, and if you don’t enrich them, your dynamic is going to wither away.

i brought up an idea in the first part of this guide that’s extremely important to how you hc with your writing partner: VALIDATE & EXPAND. it’s the idea that no matter how much or how little your rp partner gives you in terms of an hc, you respond to it with a validation, which can range anywhere from ‘i LOVE that’ to as simple as a key smash and the pleading emotion, or even repeating a fraction of what they said to show you understand their vision. but then you have to back that up with expanding on that idea. hcs could be about a situation or about your writing partner’s character, so expand on how your character feels and reacts to things. it’s beyond discouraging when i write a whole idea out, explaining how my character feels in this emotionally intense setting, and my writing partner only gives me the validation portion, and now i have no idea how my opp’s character thinks, feels, or interacts.

see, a point i mentioned above is the fact that threads don’t work like they used to. and that’s fine! but hcing is an easy and fun way to make up for the fact that we take time with our threads now. if you’re rping to find rich, in-depth, satisfying dynamics, it’s going to take many many months to get your understanding of your opp’s muse, and the relationship they have, hcing fast tracks that process. i’m writing with you, i love your muse, give me the dirty details, i promise it’s not obnoxious. the more your give back, the more you will receive. so why wait around, sitting on our thumbs for me to fully get a grasp of your character’s voice, and your character’s thoughts, when we could do that on chat and have a grand time.

but now you’re thinking to yourself: okay, but how exactly do i validate and expand? and for that, we go to EXAMPLE-BOT 3000 !! not a real bot, unfortunately, but example bot has dug up a personal interaction i’ve had hcing. for context, this is a 1x1 writing partner i’ve had for years. we have an excellent dynamic and they are perfect. they have also given me permission to use our convos as example.

here is my message [ CONTEXT: this is a sandbox-star-wars-esque verse]

Okay but I had a thot in the shower,,, where the best thoughts are had. And what if,,, after this meeting and they part ways and such and it was just another weird occurrence in their lives, blastis gets a mission and it’s either to protecc salia or like guide salia across the galaxy to do something smth and save some lives or whatever. And ofc not because she couldn’t take care of herself but he has smth she doesn’t that gives an edge or just a close loved one of her’s didn’t want to see her get hurt. So you have these two traveling across the galaxy,,, sometimes arguing bc she can manage herself but he’s just fulfilling the mission. And them both kicking but. And all the steamy tension and cliches.

let’s break this message down before we get into the response. first, hcs don’t have to be formal. they are the most fun when they’re less together and don’t rely so much on “sounding good”. you’re just rolling off the top of your brain, chatting like you would with a friend, don’t worry too much on formalities because this isn’t the place for that.

i am also presenting my idea in a way that is confident, and with plenty of ideas to work on. i am involving my partner’s character but not godmodding. i am taking things i have learned from character introductions (like salia being independent and empowered, and wanting to do good/help others) and not disrespecting them, but having her take part in the plot. there are also small bits at the end of this idea that are little nuggets to build off of.

let’s look at my partner’s response.

AAAAH okay i love the idea!!! however shes a v. freelance kinda healer and doesnt really take official things. and she doesnt have loved ones that would know if there was danger - she can telepathically communicate with her own people but if she doesnt want them to know things they cant just. force their way in its a Closed Communication line not an open invitation into her thoughts asdfghjsh. But i could imagine that some guy or family hire her to find their children maybe who were lost on their adventure/mission with friends and the last message sounded like one was hurt,,, badly. and the other cant help for some reason. and they hire blastis to both protect her and later the people shes supposed to heal??

but anYWAY the Important part is ofc. the tension. and his big ass in her ship bc why would she?? take another if hers is right there. so hes gonna take that single bed and not complain. but ooof those two?? just kicking ass and being amazing. growing on each other more and more.

right off the bat is validation. and validation doesn’t have to be as direct as it is in this message. the validation is important here specifically, my partner showed they were interested and supportive of the idea i presented, but needed the plot to fit in their character’s story better. we see them making adjustments--- this is a collaborative experience so i alone shouldn’t be the one coming up with the plot, nor would i want my idea taken just as is. instead they mold it to fit what makes sense, getting more specific than my idea with a “mission purpose”. this is where the bouncing off of each other begins.

they then take the “bait” and start building on the tension our muses will experience (this is a ship afterall). while this is the beginning of our conversation, and there’s aren’t specific moments we’re working off of, this is setting the ground for future headcanons (see: the focus on sexual tension, living in a ship together, kicking butt), we are both mutually giving each other little tethers to take hold of. this is a very good start to begin working out the dynamic and situations these two characters are found in, with multiple different launch-off points.

CONCLUSION

there’s no right or wrong way to rp. even the tips listed here might not be applicable to your style, just having the idea in the back of your mind helps. the important thing is you and the person you’re writing with are having fun. you both are respecting each other’s time and ideas and creating a beautiful dynamic or world or relationship. this is a collaborative experience, and it’s important not to leave your partner feeling like they’re doing all the heavy lifting creatively.

hope this helped! as always, you can send me any questions you have in regards to this topic HERE. you can find a tag of answered questions in relation to this topic HERE.

#rpt #rpc #rph #writing guide #rp guide #hc guide

[lesserfandomappreciation]

Ariadne and why the Mycenaeans can fuck right off

Warning: Includes brief mentions of r*pe, cultural destruction, ancient patriarchy reminding us why no woman would ever time-travel more than 5 years into the past if that and a great deal of spite for male historians/public education history/mythology classes. 

Possible side effects may include a sudden intense rage for an ancient society equivalent to the innate rage one has for the Romans burning the library of Alexandria, a distinct hatred for ancient men not being able to let anyone have nice things, and a sudden fascination for Minoa. 

Usually, I stick to writing imagines and being happy with that. It’s fun! I love it! But every now and again, in an attempt to escape the crushing forces known as reality and responsibilities I’ll put on a few cutscenes from games I’m: A) Too lazy to play B) Too broke to play C) Too unskilled to play D) All of the above

because cutscenes are free and why torture yourself with impossible levels when its free on Youtube?* *In all seriousness please support video games and video game creators, but no shame to those of us who prefer cutscenes to gameplay.  A few weeks ago I added the game Hades made by Supergiant to the list because the cutscenes were bomb and the characters are so much fun! Intricate as all hell! Hella cute too but that’s unrelated! Now my pretty little simp patootie is especially a big fan of Dionysus and his gorgeous design so the cutscenes with him are my favorite.

I’m re-watching his cutscenes a few nights ago for fun as background when he has a certain line about Theseus. Don’t quote me on this since my memory is foggy at best but roughly it was: Dionysus: Good job with Theseus. Never cared much for him- what he did to that girl was just horrible.*

*I know that’s not his exact line but this is clearly a rant post fueled by spite and ADD-hyper-focused obsessions with ancient civilizations so let’s not worry too too much about the semantics here. 

Now, I like mythology! Personally, I prefer the Norse mythology due to the general lack of very very gross dynamics that several other ancient mythologies seem to include, but I’m decently familiar with Greek mythos. Enough to go - “Why does the God of Wine give a single fuck about the frat bro of Greek heroes being a dick to a woman? Grossness is embedded into the very DNA of all distant relatives of Zeus, a woman being harassed by Zeus or his bastard army is a typical Tuesday in ancient Greece.” 

Wikipedia confirms that Ariadne is the only woman in the story of Theseus and the Minotaur, which I kinda knew already so unless Theseus did some f’ed up shit to some other princess of Minos, Dionysus could only be referring to her. Disregarding what I know about Wikipedia and how it can suck you down the rabbit hole of rabbit holes through sheer fury I stupidly clicked the link to Ariadne’s article. 

By the time we get to the end of this shitstorm, I will have two separate plotlines for two separate stories based of Ariadne, 2k+ notes (and going) on an ancient civilization prior to a week ago I didn’t know existed and within me there will be a rage towards a different ancient civilization I vaguely recall learning about in high school. 

Here’s how this shit went down. 

First of all, apparently after Theseus abandoned Ariadne on an island to die (yep! He did that! To the one person who is the only reason he defeated the minotaur! Fuck this guy.) there are multiple storylines where Dionysus takes a single look at Ariadne and falls in love. 

“A god falls in love?” you say, aware of how most love stories in Greek mythos can be summed up with Unfortunately, Zeus got horny and Hera is a firm believer in victim blaming. “This poor woman is about to go through hell!” I thought so too! And in one variation of the story, Dionysus does his daddy proud by being an absolute tool to Ariadne. In the majority though? He woos the fuck out of her, and ultimately marries her by consent!

Her consent!

In ancient Greece!

The party dude of the Greek pantheon knows more about consent then his father and modern day frat brothers!

Okay! That’s interesting, so I keep reading. 

Ariadne getting hitched to Dionysus is a big deal in Olympus, to the point of getting a crown made of the Aurora Borealis from Aphrodite who is bro-fisting Dionysus, beyond glad she didn’t have to give him the talk about consent. The rest of the gods are pissy especially Hera who doesn’t like Dionysus much since he is the son of Zeus and Semele but they don’t do much. Ariadne ascends to godhood, becomes the goddess of Labyrinths with the snake and bull as her symbol and that’s that on that. 

Colorin, colorado, este cuento se acabado.  And they lived happily ever after. That’s the end of the post right?

NO! Because curiosity has made me their bitch and there’s more to this calling me. 

Also, I was pissed! Still am! Why the fuck-a-doodle-do did I have to learn about the time Poseidon r*ped a priestess instead of the arguably healthiest relationship in the entirety of the pantheon? Why is Persephone and Hades’ story (which has improved since it was first written and I like more modern versions of it, no hate) the only healthy-ish Greek love story I had to learn when Dionysus and Ariadne were right there? The rage of having endured several grade levels of “Zeus got horny and Hera found out” stories in the nightmare of public education led me to keep looking into this. 

There’s this wonderful Youtube channel called Overly Sarcastic Productions that I highly recommend that delves a lot into mythology, and I have seen their bombass video about Dionysus and how his godhood has changed since he was potentially first written in a language we comprehend. 

Did ya’ll know this man is the heir apparent to Zeus? ‘Cause I didn’t know that!

YEA! Dionysus, man of parties, king of hangovers and inducer of madness, is set to inherit the throne of Olympus! Ariadne didn’t husband up the God of Wine, she husbanded up the Prince of Olympus and heir apparent to the throne! Holy shit! No wonder some of the gods were against her marriage to Dionysus - can you imagine the drama of an ex-mortal woman sitting on the Queen’s throne of Olympus? Hera must have been pissed.

BUT WAIT.

There’s more.

The reason we know Dionysus is a very important god and is possibly even more important than we think is because of a handy-dandy language known as Linear B, otherwise known as the language of the Mycenaeans!

For those of you fortunate enough to have normal hobbies and interests, the Mycenaeans were the beta version of the Greeks. Their written language of Linear B is one of, if not the first recorded instance of a written Indo-European language. This language, having been translated, gives us an interesting look at what the Greek gods were like back in their beta-stages before they fixed the coding and released the pantheon. 

Interesting side facts of the Mycenaean Greek gods include:

Poseidon being the head god with an emphasis on his Earthquake aspect, and being much more of a cthonic god in general. 

Take that Zeus, for being so gross. 

The gods in general being more cthonic, as Mycenaeans were obsessed with cthonic gods (probably due to all the earthquakes and natural disasters in Greece and Crete at that time)

Several of the gods and goddesses that we know being listed, alongside some that we don’t consider as important (Dione)

The first mention of Kore, later Persephone, but no Hades because since a lot of gods were cthonic, there would be no need for one, specific cthonic god to represent the majority of death-related rituals.

That’s not what we’re focusing on though! What we’re focusing on is a specific translated portion of Linear B that we have. One of the translated portions of Linear B that for the life of me I can’t find (someone please help me find it and send the link so I can edit this post) says an interesting phrase. “Honey to the gods. Honey to the Mistress of Labyrinths.”

One more time. “Honey to the gods. Honey to the Mistress of Labyrinths.”

Mistress of Labyrinths. 

Now wait a gosh darn minute. Isn’t there a goddess of labyrinths in the Greek mythos? Why yes! Yes there is! Ariadne!

Here’s a question for you. If Ariadne is but a minor god in the pantheon, a wife to a more predominant god, why is it that while all the other gods and goddesses are bunched together in a sentence of praise, the so-called ex-mortal gets a whole-ass sentence to herself singing praises?

And thus, we have arrived to Minoa!

What is Minoa, you ask? Minoa is to Rome what Rome is to us. An old-ass civilization either older than or younger by a hundred years to ancient Egypt. Egypt, that started in 3200 B.C-ish depending on who you ask. That’s old. Old as balls. They were contemporaries to their trading partner, Egypt until 1450 BC-ish. A 2000 year old civilization.

Minoa was founded on the island of Crete, and was by what artifacts we have found a merchant civilization with its central economy centered on the cultivation of saffron and the development of bronze/iron statues of bulls. Most of what we know about them comes from artifacts and frescoes found on Crete that managed to survive everything else I will mention later, but what matters is that we know a few things about them. 

Obsessed with marine life for some time, given their pottery. 

Had the first palaces in all of Europe, some of them ridiculously big. 

Wrote in Linear A and Cretan Hieroglyphs, both still untranslated languages. 

Had a ritual involving jumping over a bull, for some reason. 

Firm believers in “Suns out, Tits out.”

You’d think I’m kidding on the last one but no! No no no! All the women apparently rocked the tits-out look in Minoa!

^^^^One of many, many Minoan works featuring women giving their titties fresh air. ^^^^

“Wait a second Pinks! What does this have to do with Ariadne being the Mistress of labyrinths?”

Well you see dear wonderful darling, while we know very little about Minoan religion because Mycenaeans (we will get to those bastards in a second), we do know this:

All the religious figures appear to be exclusively women.

The most important figures of their religion seem to be goddesses as there are few artifacts featuring male gods.

Because of the religion, the culture may have been an equal society or even a matriarchy! Historians who are male aren’t sure. 

A frankly ridiculous amount of their temples, including the ones in caves in the middle of fuck-all feature labyrinths. A lot of labyrinths!

Their head god is a goddess! Whose temples have labyrinths and whose main symbols are snakes and bulls. Who do we know is a) the mistress of labyrinths and b) is symbolized a lot by snakes and bulls?

ARI-fucking-ADNE THAT’S WHO!

Ariadne didn’t upgrade by marrying the prince of Olympus! Dionysus wifed up possibly the most important goddess in all of Crete and becoming her boy-toy! 

I’m not even kidding, most Minoan depictions of the goddess’ consort features a boy/man who cycles through the stages of death. Dionysus himself in several myths goes through the same cycle - life, being crushed, death, rebirth, repeat.  Cycles the consort goes through in Minoan legend depictions too!

Okay, that’s great, but what does that have to do with the Mycenaeans? Why do you want to single-handedly go back in time and strangle the beta-Greeks with the nearest belt?

Everything I just said about Ariadne being a Minoan goddess, the Mistress of Labyrinths being hella important on Minoa, is all theoretical. The Mycenaeans are partially to blame for making it theoretical. 

Minoa thrived for 2000 years but it had a lot of issues, mostly caused by natural disasters. Towards the end of their civilization (1500 BC-ish), the nearby island of Thera, today known as Santorini, decided to blow up. The island was a hella-active volcano that when erupted, destroyed a lot. 

How big was the eruption? Well when Pompeii was wasted by Mt. Vesuvius, the blast was heard from roughly 120 miles away, 200 km. 

The blast on Thera was heard from 3000 miles away. 4800 km away.

Fuck me, the environmental effects of the explosion were felt in imperialistic CHINA.

Holy shit that would waste anybody! And it did! Minoa went from being a powerhouse in the Mediterranean to scrambling to recover from losing 40,000 citizens and who knows how many cities. Tsunamis may have followed the blast, further destroying ports which for a navy-powerhouse of an island nation is a bad thing and the theorized temperature drops caused by a cloud of ash lingering for a while would have destroyed crops for the year.

Minoa was fucked. 

The Mycenaeans and all their bullshit made it worse.

Up until a few hundred years prior to Thera’s explosion, Minoan artifacts don’t depict much in terms of military power. Why would it? Crete is a natural defense post. Sheer cliffs, high mountains and a few semi-fortified areas would make it pointless to invade. It’s only when the Mycenaeans in all their bullshit decided to attack/compete that Minoa really needed any army to speak of.

Guess who decided to invade while Minoa was reeling from an incredibly shitty year? Mycenaea!

Guess who won?

Also Mycenaea!

Nobody knows how this shit went down though because wouldn’t you know it, the Mycenaeans in all their superiority-complex glory decided to destroy most written accounts about Minoa, a good junk of the temples and culturally eliminated most of Minoan beliefs. 

Minoa isn’t even the real name of the civilization! It’s just the name Arthur Evans, the guy who re-motivate interest in Minoan archaeology, gave to the civilization because the writings that would have included the name of the civilization were destroyed.

“That sucks!” Fuck yes that sucks! “What does that have to do with Ariadne though?”

Oh ho ho. Strap in because you’re about to be pissed. 

Those of us unfortunate enough to be aware of all the bullshit the Christians pulled on the European pagan belief system are familiar with the concept of cultural, religious destruction. There’s a special name for it I don’t know but if I did I would curse it to be absorbed by the horrendous will of fungi. 

An example: Christianity was not the most popular of religions amongst the Vikings. A monotheistic religion that is heavily controlled did not strongly appeal to anyone with a pantheon as rad as the Norse one. 

In order to appeal to the Vikings, what monks would do is they would write down traditionally Viking stories which up until that point were orally passed down. Beowulf, the story of the most Viking Viking to have every Vikinged, was one of these first stories. 

However! Did these monks write Beowulf as closely to the original oral transcript as possible? Of course not! They took liberties! While Norse features such as trolls and dragons and all sorts of Norse magic occur, there is a lot of Christian features added in. 

This happened across all Pagan religions that Christianity came into contact with in Europe. Stories would be altered when written down to be more Christian (this happened to the Greek Pantheon too btw), holidays that were Pagan magically lined up with ones the Vatican just happened to suddenly have. Even names of mythological figures were taken and added onto Christian figure names. Consequently, a lot of pagan religions they did this to got erased over time, with many of their traditions and details being lost forever, and the details we do know being tinted by Christianity.

The Mycenaeans were likely no different. 

Minoa and Mycenaea were as culturally opposite as can be. Minoa is theorized to be a matriarchal or equal society*. Mycenaea and most of early Greece absolutely was not. In fact, during early stages of their religion where they believed in reincarnation, the Mycenaeans believed the worst thing to come back as was a woman. 

Did you get that? With your options ranging from man to ever single animal on Earth, a woman was ranked as beneath literal animals in Mycenaean society.

Fuck the Mycenaeans.

* This is not to say Minoa was without fault, as a society that is matriarchal or equal can still have rampant issues such as privilege, classism, racism, sexism and more, but when history has a shortage of civilizations that didn’t treat women like shit, you find yourself rooting for them more. 

 What do you do then, when you take over a society that is very much the opposite of a nightmare of a patriarchy? You fold their beliefs into your own to bait them into yours. Going back to the Linear B line about “Mistress of Labyrinths” that line would/could have been an early tactic of incorporating Minoan belief into Mycenaean belief. Other goddesses and gods were made into aspects of Mycenaean gods. Bristomartis, the Minoan goddess of the hunt, would become Artmeis. Velchanos, a god of the sky, would become Zeus. 

With more time, the religion shifted more into Mycenaean and eventually into ancient Greece as we know it. Through trade other gods and goddesses would continue to shift and change, some being straight up imported (Aphrodite for example). Dionysus himself changed a lot too, going from a God representing freedom and attracting slaves, women and those with limited power into his cult, to a God of parties for the wealthy. 

Theseus and the Minotaur was a myth likely based on a Mycenaean myth based on a Minoan myth that changes Ariadne from an important, possibly the important goddess of an ancient religion and relegates her to a side character in a pantheon so vast that she would be lost within it. 

All of this brings us to today. Today, where as soon as work ended I spent most of the day, as well as the past two days, looking up everything I can on Minoan civilization and added it to my notes. Spite is fueling me to write two possible different stories for two different fandoms where Minoa dunks of Mycenaea and it is giving me life. Expect an update within the next two weeks folks as I lose control of my writing life once more. 

In summary: Ariadne deserves more respect, fuck the public education system for skipping over the good parts of Greek mythology instead of the r*pey as shit parts, the Mycenaeans can eat my shorts, and a world were Minoa became the predominant power instead of Greece would be an amazing world to live in.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk. Pink out. 

#minoa #minoan #crete #ancient history #ariadne #mycenaea #mycenaean #I hate #HATE #HATE HATE HATE the Greeks so much #homer is a dick #So much spite and curiosity went into this #if I ever get a time machine I will travel to the first years of Mycenaea for the express purpose of burning it to the ground before #they get a chance #the opportunity #to look at Minoa wrong

[yakocchi]

My Darling’s the Strongest (Scenario Event) // Leonardo

(graphic is separate from the event)

me: wow i wonder what cool and amazing new content there will be for white day week cybird: we heard from no one that u like reprints that only have new ranking avatars. so heres another reprint that only has new ranking avatars me:

…….cybird it’s ok to not make every event have ranking cards. yea i know they make gangbusters versus events without cards, but if it results in less new scenario events overall… that’s not great

anyway, it’s been like 4 months since a new Count scenario event has been released (which is a better track record than several charas) and i wanted to do a longer string of text to test out a keyboard i ordered. yea im very fickle with my output but ehehe what’s new i archive leo events sometimes, so i decided to dredge one up to translate. i actually wanted to do vlad’s first post-main-route event as a sort of celebration for when it would inevitably happen, but then said scenario event appeared and it ended up being an AU. why does this game like AUs so much? the canon universe already pretty farfetched… u literally have dracula and ure telling me u would rather put him in a situation where he would not be dracula. cowards

This event (first released ~July 2020) was made for the 3rd Anniversary of JP Ikevam later that month. The event was split into two parts, where iirc the first part contained the Count, Arthur, and Mozart. Leo was in the second part with Napo and Isaac.

Spoilers under the cut!! Please credit if you take any of it, thenk u (･ω･*) image-heavy!!

…

The master of the manse, from time to time, starts his conversations with the most unexpected topics. One of those “times”, was today.

...

[Count]: “—So, I’d like the two of you to go out for the Best Couples’ Contest.” [Leonardo & Kara]: “Huh…?” As soon as we had excused ourselves into his quarters, the Count had said something completely unexpected. Leonardo and I had responded with a confused noise spilling out of our lips. (The “Best Couples’ Contest” is that event where they pick the best couple in Paris, right?) (I wonder why he suddenly decided to say he wants us to go.) Even as the two of us stood bewildered in front of him, the Count’s smile remained, untarnished. Leonardo then heaved a massive sigh…

[Leonardo]: “Now, I’m used to you telling me crazy things—" [Leonardo]: “But at the very least, could you give us the entire story, O’ great Count?” The Count began to speak once more—

[Count]: “Well—” [Count]: “Last night, I had visited an acquaintance upon them telling me that they had gotten their hands on some good wine.” [Count]: “At one point, they informed me that they were going to hold a contest to determine the best couple.” [Count]: “Then, they asked me if I was acquainted with any prospective couples for it.” Leonardo then took over from Count as if he had read this story before.

[Leonardo]: “Then, in your drunken state you selfishly entered me and the little sweetheart to the contest, did you?” (And that means… the Count thinks me and Leonardo would have a chance?)

The Count responded to Leonardo’s summation of the events with apparent amusement. [Count]: “I do believe I wasn’t drunk at the time, I’ll have you know?” [Leonardo]: “That’s even worse, then.”

[Count]: “Oh my, Leonardo. Is it really all right for you to say that?” [Leonardo]: “Hah?” [Kara]: “gh-…” The Count had turned in my direction— and so Leonardo, as if in pursuit of the gentleman, then turned to face me as well. Their gazes seemed to urge me to confess my true feelings on the matter, and I earnestly comply.

[Kara]: “Ah-, I… I just thought it sounded fun.” [Kara]: “And on top of that, I’d be really happy if everyone acknowledged me and Leonardo as the best couple.” (Even though I’d be nervous to stand in front of so many people,) (I’d be able to boast that such a wonderful person is my lover…) (And I also think it’d be a good opportunity to see if I’m able to become a suitable woman for Leonardo.)

[Leonardo]: “…” A surprised expression appeared on Leonardo’s face for a moment, before it was replaced with a smile…

[Leonardo]: “Shall we partake?” [Kara]: “Huh? Is it okay?” I had blurted out my question, and Leonardo gently patted my head. [Leonardo]: “This situation’s turned into nothing but a good opportunity, so we might as well have some fun and aim to win this thing, yeah?” [Kara]: “gh- Okay…!” Glad that Leonardo was also interested, my voice naturally gained a bounce to it.

[Kara]: “But, I wonder how they’re going to determine the best couple?” Muttering this, the Count then handed me the invitation, which had a general outline of the event written inside. Promptly opening it, written was—

(The contest is to be a few days from now, and I can look forward to what we’ll be tested on… on the day itself?) The portion I wanted to know about most of all hadn’t been written, and I internally slumped my shoulders.   The invitation concluded with a single line— “The key to victory is to have a mind and soul of love towards one another,” (I guess the ‘mind and soul of love’ is supposed to be a hint, but…) [Kara]: “Hmm… With just this, I don’t know what the contest could be about, at all.” [Leonardo]: “Don’t sweat it, sweetheart.” (Huh?) Leonardo brought his face up close to the Count… And as if he had devised a scheme, a mischievous smile had turned the corners of his lips. [Leonardo]: “You’re close with the contest organizer, right? I’m led to believe that they have some sort of hint on ‘em.” [Count]: “Leonardo…?” [Leonardo]: “We may have willingly chose to participate in the contest— but it doesn’t change the reality that it was our lovely Count who dragged us into this in the first place.” [Leonardo]: “So, naturally, you’re gonna cooperate with us, no?”

As a result of forcing the Count (against his will) to spill the details, we were able to make a guess on what we’d be doing in the contest. But…

most everyone else in this event: (thinking hard on what to do bc they dont kno what the contest is going to cover) leo: fuc it CHEAT

…

[Leonardo]: “…” (…Leonardo has an awfully complicated look on his face right now.) In my mind, I think over our discussion from a moment ago:

The organizer of the couples’ contest appears to have hosted several dance contests as well. To put it plainly, the organizer is both a huge socialite and a huge fan of dances. (So, individuals are called from high society circles to be chosen as the “best couple”, and) (The probability of competing based on our dancing… is high.)

[Leonardo]: “Hagh…” [Kara]: “…Hehe.” Seeing Leonardo’s pouting face, I unwittingly laughed. Then— [Leonardo]: “What are you laughing for, sweetheart?”

[Kara]: “I just remembered something from back before we became lovers.” The conversation of that day, the day where a weakness of his had been exposed, replayed in my head—

…

[Leonardo]: “…I can’t dance.” (Huh…?) [Kara]: “You’ve got to be kidding, right…? You can build and play instruments, and yet…” [Kara]: “Is it because you don’t go to many socialite parties to begin with, so you haven’t had many opportunities to dance….?” [Leonardo]: “No, I’ve participated in ‘em the point where I’ve even had a hand in producing those sorts of dazzling venues.” [Kara]: “’Producing’…” (This person really can do anything and everything. No, no, that’s not true…) [Kara]: “Leonardo, the mystery that surrounds you is only getting deeper and deeper.”

[Leonardo]: “I avoided having to do it.” [Kara]: “…’Avoid’?” [Leonardo]: “…Try to imagine it. Me, dancing?” [Leonardo]: “It doesn’t suit me, I don’t have the look required for it…” (…What… is this?)

[Kara]: “…Hehe, ahaha!” [Leonardo]: “…Hey, sweetheart. What are you laughing for?

…

(He said the same thing back then.) Unable to hold it in, I continued to giggle… [Leonardo]: “Don’t laugh.” [Kara]: “I think you’re the one smiling here, though?” [Leonardo]: “…I’m just feeling terribly nostalgic right now.” Answering me, his eyes held a gentle light within them as if cherishing those days, [Kara]: “You still hate dancing, I assume?” [Leonardo]: “Even to this day, I find it embarrassing to do. Radiant, cheerful stuff doesn’t mesh with me. But—" (Huh?)

The second I wondered if Leonardo was going to start something, he suddenly pulled my waist towards him for an embrace… [Kara]: “Woah, woah-…!” Regaining my senses— Led by Leonardo himself, I properly danced. [Leonardo]: “I’m able to dance like the average person now— and it’s all because you came to keep me company.” While I was still surprised, Leonardo dropped a light kiss on my forehead. [Kara]: “Nn-…” Flustered, I looked up to find a completely composed smile on his face… [Kara]: “…ngh-“ An impulse overwhelming me, I lean my head against his chest.

[Kara]: “…Sly as usual.” [Leonardo]: “Hm?” [Kara]: “Even though I thought I had finally found a weakness of yours, you’ll get over that hurdle too pretty soon.” [Kara]: “When you do things like that, you become sly so smoothly, exquisitely.”

(When he shows this side of him… I get driven to work even harder than before so I can catch up to him.) While even feeling a frustration from it, I turned my gaze back to Leonardo.

[Kara]: “It seems like this world is going to become one where there’s absolutely nothing you can’t do.”

[Leonardo]: “…Maybe?” (…Hm?) For a second it felt as if he were pondering over something, a particular emotion washing over his face.

But before I could say anything, I was swiftly embraced, and that thought of mine scattered, and vanished. [Kara]: “l- Leonardo?” [Leonardo]: “Hey, look there, sweetheart.” (Huh?)

Following Leonardo’s gaze— I could see the dusk dying the sky from a distance away. (Pretty…) The view that he showed me, was beautiful.   But, at the same time… my chest was tightened by this sorrow. (Although the scene before our eyes is the same between us, time passes differently between us…) (During moments like this, I feel that difference.) (However— When we became lovers, I had decided that no matter how different we are, I’m going to embrace the present, make the most out of it.) (I’m going to savor even the passing seconds, cherish them… as we live together, as two.)

As if to confirm he was really there, I embraced his warmth in return… [Kara]: “Leonardo, I’m looking forward to the contest.” [Leonardo]: “Mhm.” In the vivid sunset, we smiled to each other.

…

—Time passed, and the night of the contest arrived at last.

…

(W-Wow…) When we had entered the venue in our formalwear, there were several couples eagerly waiting for the contest to start. (All of the people here have to be participants for the contest, huh. …Somehow, my heart’s pounding.) I took a deep breath to calm myself down, and when I did that— Leonardo, as if to soothe my heart, lightly stroked my hair. [Leonardo]: “Why is it necessary for you to feel all anxious?” [Kara]: “Leonardo?” [Leonardo]: “To the point where there’s just no way we can lose to any couple here— I love you, you know.”

[Leonardo]: “—Well, and you?” Inquiring me, his smile was brimming with self-confidence… And caught up in his mood, I smiled cheerfully.

[Kara]: “I love you too— to the point where it’s impossible for us lose to anyone…!”

[Leonardo]: “Heh… Very nice, then.” [Judge]: “—And so, the contest shall begin now. The means of competition is to be by dance.” (Ah-…!) We look to each other, and Leonardo, extending his hand towards me, says, [Leonardo]: “Kara… You’ll do me the honor of a dance, no…?”

PREMIUM END

[Kara]: “Yes, I’d be delighted!” (Even though I was so nervous about this until now… Now, I can’t help but just be excited about it.) (I want everyone to quickly feast their eyes on our dancing, and our bond!) Taking his hand, I nestled close to him as an elegant melody began to echo within the dance hall. To become a flower that offsets the man before me, I step forward—

…

—When the contest had ended without a hitch, the both of us walked along the moonlit Seine as we made our way home. The chilly breeze felt pleasant on my heated skin. [Kara]: “We really were able to win!” (I was able to prove my bond with Leonardo to all of Paris… I’m so happy that I can’t stop a smile from showing on my face.) [Leonardo]: “I did say we wouldn’t lose to anyone, didn’t I?” [Leonardo]: “But, well, to think… the winning prize was a year’s supply of wine of all things. ‘Guess sensuality and allure are as good as goddamn useless to them.”

he’s trying to say that he doesn’t like the prize cuz it isn’t very sensual/sexy (suppose he imagined a prize for a lovers’ contest would be more along those lines). even Arthur in the epilogue is like “…thought the prize for a best couples’ contest would be more special”….

[Kara]: Hehe, it’s a nice prize, isn’t it? Let’s drink it with everyone else in the manse.” [Leonardo]: “If you’re satisfied with it, that’s good, I suppose.” As he spoke, Leonardo looked to be the same as usual, but his eyes reflected some kind of joy from within. (I’m glad that this will become a lovely memory I’ll have about him.) (…But, even then) The very sight of Leonardo of when I had danced with him in the dance hall, wouldn’t leave my head. [Kara]: “Your dancing was really, really stunning.” [Kara]: “As I had always thought… you’re the strongest one around.” [Leonardo]: “What’s all this about, hmm?”

i probably should’ve bothered explaining it last year since i used the title “My Darling’s the Strongest” for the other translation but uh might as well do it now that it’s explicitly used in the story so by “strongest”, it doesn’t necessarily mean physical strength (though it can be). It’s “strongest” as in a form of “mightiest” or “most powerful”, kind of like when someone says “my baseball team is the strongest in the league”,

[Kara]: “I just think that you’re the mightiest lover as there’s nothing you can’t do.” Carried away by the thrill of victory, I professed my thoughts. In doing so Leonardo’s brows lowered, and a bit of a troubled smile graced his lips. [Leonardo]: “If I’m able to put some effort into it, then I guess there’s really nothing I can’t do. But…”

[Leonardo]: “There is something I simply cannot do, no matter how hard I try.” (Huh…?) [Kara]: “Something you can’t do… I can’t imagine such a thing existing.” He was undoubtedly an almighty genius, and was also the type of person willing to confront even his awkward dancing skills head-on.

At my murmurs, Leonardo continued as if the topic was no big deal.

[Leonardo]: “It exists.” [Leonardo]: “I cannot become an ordinary human.”

(gh-…) His words had vanished into the night breeze.

I inadvertently stopped in my tracks, and he stopped as well… and the both of us stood still in that one corner.

In my current view, the moonlight illuminated his figure as he stood before me. [Leonardo]: “As a pureblood vampire,” [Leonardo]: “I give you much loneliness— A loneliness that, if I were an ordinary human, you would never have to experience.” [Leonardo]: “However, if I went and lamented over every single little detail of that truth, I would be rendered unable to be with you. —Thus from the very beginning, I do not intend to lament either.” [Leonardo]: “I’m going to use as much of my power as I possibly can to grant your wishes, and that’s all.” (Using his power, my wishes…) I recalled the exchange we had a few days ago:

…

[Kara]: “Ah-, I… I just thought it sounded fun.” [Kara]: “And on top of that, I’d be really happy if everyone acknowledged me and Leonardo as the best couple.” [Leonardo]: “…”

…

[Kara]: “Did… you say that we should go and try to win the contest… merely because I…” With a smile, Leonardo proceeded to stare intently at me. [Leonardo]: “Well, there’s that, but additionally… I had the same motive as you had.” [Leonardo]: “I also had wanted the both of us to be acknowledged as the best couple.” [Leonardo]: “I wanted news to spread that I had been able to become the man of such a wonderful woman, you know.”   (gh- Leonardo…) Leonardo, whenever and wherever, envelops me in his great, unparalleled affection. Roused by the surging love within me, I went to grip his hand.

[Kara]: “…Leonardo, I want to be by your side tonight, and all night.” (I want to give him, in return for the love I received from him… those same feelings, that same love.) (I want him… to feel my love as well.)

[Leonardo]: “…” [Kara]: “gh- Ah-!” I was suddenly yanked towards him; and almost stumbling over my feet, it had closed the distance between us. Bringing his lips to my ear, he whispered:

[Leonardo]: “What a coincidence. I was just thinking the same thing.”

…

—As soon as we entered his room, we melded, deeply kissing each other. [Leonardo]: “…Hah-, Kara…” He called my name with a wet, heady timbre between kisses, the sensuality of it making me go lightheaded. Crowded atop the bed, he pried my lips open with his finger… [Leonardo]: “Thinking about it, I haven’t received a reward from you yet.” [Kara]: “’Reward’…?” [Leonardo]: “When I’m feeling, touching you like this… I know that you’re not so dumb to be oblivious to what I want?” [Kara]: “ngh-…” Taking a guess on what he desired from me, I slowly brought my face closer to his.

[Leonardo]: “Good girl. Come on— Try to turn me on with a kiss?”

FIN

yes the event really stops here before the epilogue teaser. cybird when a sexi scene is about to start:

since this was a glorified keyboard test, this is mostly a one-off… so don’t expect leo translations from me otherwise ahah

u know, it’s always weird to me that leo’s stuff is always very sorrowful bc of the vast diff in lifespan, humans vs. vampires thing. like, does he not plan to turn her into a vampire? the wedding stuff makes it sound like they’d like to be together forever but they still don’t really like to broach the topic itself……… kinda sus given that the Count’s stuff gets several mentions of biting in events and vlad clearly doesn’t mind biting whenever (and is just waiting for her to give him the go-ahead). ive seen some ppl talk about how maybe leo likes her because she’s human (both as in being a literal human and the figurative idea of being “human”) and honestly……… it is kinda messed up to think about, but i can see it LOL now im not saying the other pureblood x mc relationships are super healthy but that’s a convo for another time

well at least these guys don’t have to ask someone for vampire-turning assistance. im imagining one of the other charas having to ask the Count to bite mc akin to how teenagers have to ask their parents to drive them and their friends around to do stuff…….. who wants to relive that nightmare

also sorry if like leo’s voice doesn’t match up with w/e the official engl localization does. ive literally never played an engl cybird game in my life, so it’s a crime of ignorance i swear. tho imo if they’re not making him sound like a rascal… that’s very lame, im not gonna lie

the epilogue is obviously not available for purchase rn, but please buy it and/or support the game with purchases when you can!!

As always, thanks for reading!

(gif source)

#ikevam #ikemen vampire #wats this fools tag #ikevam leonardo #?? i guess #spoilers #leonardo da vinci #seems a bit improper to do the one connected with the real guy