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#naturally... spoilers are implied! so i tag

sangre · 1 year

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DEFECTIVE & DIVINE — a two part playlist for alear of fire emblem engage. titles link to spotify.

you must fix your heart. tracklists:

not human, elegant slims / twisted, missio / dark in my imagination, of verona / hollow, cloudeater / feel my heart beat, house of harm / some boys (rac maury mix), death cab for cutie + rac / twist the knife, chromatics / what have you become?, mnqn / all you leave behind, ross tones + hannah cartwright / bad dreams, joywave / lightning field, sneaker pimps / surrender, iamx / depraved, mammals / autumn, no kind of rider / forests, duologue

II.

human, daughter / all in my stride, palace / black creme, hrvrd / the reeling, compact disk dummies / original sin, geographer / salt, bad suns / avalanche, walk the moon / still feel, half-alive / the other side of paradise, glass animals / be, hozier / painted dreams, unlike pluto / scars, iamx / begin again (health remix), purity ring / hero, wildcat! wildcat! / shake it out, florence + the machine

#alear #fe alear #fire emblem engage #naturally... spoilers are implied! so i tag #fe: engage #fe: engage spoilers #fire emblem engage spoilers #fe spoilers #spoilers #GOT POSTCARDS FROM MY FORMER SELVES SAYING HOW YOU BEEN!!!!!!#fire emblem #genre wise these jump quite a bit but it's a personality study so it's based more on the vibes leading into one another #they are pretty chronological with story if u listen to i then ii - i hope u enjoy! i like him sm (●´^｀●)

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quin-ns · 1 year

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Sleeping Bag (Joel Miller x Reader)

Word count: 1.7K

Summary: you can’t get comfortable in your sleeping bag, so joel invites you into his

Tags: age gap (mostly implied), anxiety, fluff, protective/caring!joel, comfort, cuddling, sharing a sleeping bag (instead of the one bed trope lol), kissing (forehead and lips), it’s just cute short and fun

A/N: simple and quick, inspired by ep 4 when joel and ellie were in sleeping bags in the woods, but no explicit spoilers. I’ve been wanting to write for joel since episode one and finally got an idea. pretty sure more will be coming soon…

Cross-posted to ao3 • tlou masterlist • writing masterlist

After sleeping in a bed in the QZ’s for years, suddenly trying to get comfortable in a sleeping bag on the ground was proving difficult for you.

What a spoiled thought to have, right? Well, it wasn’t just that. You were out in the open woods. There could be infected anywhere. They could come for you any second. How could you close your eyes and rest peacefully knowing you were no longer behind the barrier walls?

Ellie was already asleep, you could hear her light snores. Your back was facing him, but you assumed Joel was asleep as well given his stillness. You rolled from your side to your back and sighed.

You had to sleep. You should’ve been tired. You and Joel had taken turns driving, although since you didn’t have much driving experience Joel became concerned when you began to struggle with the gear shift and mixed up the pedals (it only happened once but he couldn’t let it go). Joel had grown exhausted and didn’t want to stress you out by making you drive without him as backup/support, so you all stopped for the night. He was thoughtful like that; even if he was a bit grouchy sometimes.

You turned from your back to your other side, eyes landing on Joel. He was facing you, eyes closed, breathing steadily. The older man actually seemed to be at peace. He only looked like that when he was asleep. The moment he woke up, you knew he’d have that slight pout and furrow of his brows that you’d become accustomed to.

If Joel caught you staring, you wondered what he’d say. You could never pinpoint the way he viewed you. Friend? Daughter? Burden? You’d be way more okay with the previous two as long as it wasn’t the third. Although if you were being honest with yourself, you hoped it was none of the above.

Despite his age and his tough nature, you had a thing for Joel. Like, a thing. Feelings, attraction, affection—whatever you wanted to call it. Definitely a crush. Love? Maybe. It was a little bit confusing, but nothing in this life was simple.

Joel had taken you under his wing a while back and looked after you. He was incredibly protective and even if he wasn’t the best with expressing himself, Joel cared for you. He made you feel safe. He was there for you when you had no one else.

You rolled to your other side. Then back. Simply put, tossing and turning. The thought that you were being loud don’t even cross your mind until—

“What are you doing?” Joel’s voice caught your attention.

You let out a sigh, feeling bad that you’d woken the man up. You turned back to face him. “I can’t sleep,” you confessed.

“I can tell,” he murmured. “Do you plan on rolling around all night?”

You frowned to yourself. “I'm sorry.”

Joel exhaled softly and even in the dark, you could see the sympathy in those deep brown eyes of his. You hadn’t realized that subconsciously, you’d moved closer to him.

“It’s okay.” He had a soft spot for you, even though he’d probably deny it.

“I’ll try and be… still, I guess.” You knew you weren’t going to be able to sleep. “Just go back to sleep, I’ll be fine.” That was a lie.

“No,” he decided after a moment. You furrowed your brows. “You need sleep too.”

“I can’t get comfortable,” you replied. You let a few seconds pass before adding, “…and I’m too anxious.”

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you,” Joel promised like if there was one thing he was sure about, it was that.

It meant a lot, it really did. But you huffed out a humorless laugh and went to a worse case scenario. “You’re all the way over there. If an infected wanted to get me, it could. Before you could stop it.”

Joel was quiet for a few beats. You hadn’t meant to insult him, but it was true. It didn’t matter how safe you felt with him there. They were faster than him. Faster than anyone.

“So then come over here,” Joel offered, voice still thick with sleep. It sounded incredibly enticing.

The image of you crawling into his sleeping bag crossed your mind faster than you could stop it. You had to do a double take. “Like… scoot over there?” you tried to clarify inconspicuously.

“If you’re against sharing with me.”

So, he had meant what you’d hoped for. Your heart skipped a little beat and you swallowed.

“I’m not.”

All Joel did was hum. You unzipped your sleeping bag and left the warmth. Joel was ready and waiting when you moved over to him, enveloping you into the safety of his sleeping bag and heavy arms. You wiggled around a little bit until you got comfortable. For the first time since you’d left the QZ, it didn’t take long.

“Thank you,” you mumbled softly, trying to keep your breathing calm. Being so close to Joel was causing you to become less focused on sleep and more focused on the way his breath sounded so close to your ear.

“Mmhhmm,” he hummed from deep in his throat with closed lips. You thought it was going to be left at that, but then you heard his gruff voice. “I know it’s been hard on you.” You opened your mouth to deny it, but he continued. “Even if you’re too stubborn to admit it beyond makin’ snarky comments.”

You took in a breath. He got you on that one, and you both knew it. “Since when do you know me this well?”

“Since always,” Joel pointed out. “You’re easy to read.”

“For you maybe.”

“Yeah, for me,” he agreed, sounding pleased with himself. Joel was silent for a long moment, listening to the soft rustle of your body as you gazed around your surroundings. The grass, the trees, the darkness… “I’m sorry for being so selfish.”

The sudden apology confused you. “What?”

“You’ve never been outside of the QZ before, and for good reason,” Joel started. “It’s a scary world out here and I shouldn’t have subjected you to it. I shouldn’t have brought you along.”

His voice was full of guilt that seemed to come out of nowhere, but given all he had to say you suspected he’d been carrying it since you left.

“I wanted to come with you,” you assured him. You never second guessed that decision despite everything that had happened so far. “Where is this coming from?”

“You’re scared and it’s my fault.” You could hear the deep frown in his voice.

“You’re the reason I feel safe right now,” you said without a second thought. It was true. You wanted him to know that. There was something you wanted to know too, now, and you couldn’t help but ask. “Do you not want me here?”

“I do,” Joel confessed. “That’s why I’m selfish.” There was a pause but you didn’t dare speak. “I didn’t want to be away from you.”

A wave of realization crashed over you.

You wiggled around, turning until you were facing him. You offered him a soft, delicate smile that you hoped he could see despite the dark.

“It almost sounds like you care about me. A lot,” you couldn’t help but tease.

“You know I care about you,” Joel stated, like it was the most obvious thing. Maybe he’d tried to cover it up in the past, but someone would have to be blind to not see that you meant something to Joel.

“I care about you too,” you admitted with much more ease. He knew, though.

Joel, in an uncharacteristically soft gesture, pressed a kiss to your forehead. You could hardly believe it. But it felt nice. You liked the affection. And coming from someone like Joel who never let their guard down, it was significant enough to leave you speechless.

“It’s gonna be daylight soon,” he muttered. “You should try and get some sleep.”

“Yeah, okay,” you agreed with a slight nod. “Just… one more thing.” It took everything you had to be brave enough to say that, and to do what you were going to do next.

There was basically no space between the two of you, but you managed to bring your hand up to Joel’s face and cup his jaw. You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

Joel didn’t hesitate to kiss you back. He took charge, but it wasn’t surprising. He had a dominating presence and was rough around the edges, you didn’t think he’d be delicate with you.

Not that you minded.

His lips moved against yours, almost in a frenzy. Like he was scared you’d slip away from him. It was so needy, so passionate. You wished you would’ve done this much, much sooner

Joel found the willpower to break away from the kiss before you. You would’ve happily lost consciousness in order to kiss him for just a few more moments. But then you’d worry him, and you hated to see Joel worry.

But you didn’t see worry when you looked into his eyes. You saw a hint of wonder. You were both staring into a new beginning as you gazed upon one another. He was panting a little, both of your soft breaths intertwining.

“You need sleep,” he reminded you.

Of course he still couldn’t drop the protector role. He wasn’t wrong about that, either. You smiled to yourself, the feel of his lips still ghosting yours despite the distance. You twisted in the sleeping bag without a word, knowing that you’d never be able to sleep facing Joel. You’d probably be too busy staring at him…

So yeah, you laid with your back to his chest and closed your eyes. His arms held you tight against his firm body. Not only providing warmth, but security as well.

“Goodnight,” Joel mumbled to you, already dozing back off. You could hear the soft smile in his voice despite the tiredness. It seemed easier for him to sleep wherever, although you liked to think you were bringing him some kind of comfort as well. With the way he held you against him it wouldn’t be an unrealistic thought.

“Goodnight, Joel,” you replied softly, finally able to relax your breathing. The feel of Joel’s body pressed against you, his strong arms around you—it felt like a dream. Safe and sound, away from the dangers that lie not far off. And soon enough, you were finally able to close your eyes and fall into a peaceful sleep.

#quin-ns writing #joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us #pedro pascal #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel x reader #the last of us spoilers #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #ellie williams

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https-furina · 10 months

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okay okay so, since im already on the angst train and i want to hurt myself today, hear me out:

you and your lover are out doing wtv and you're ambushed and then, naturally, you guys fight the enemies right?

okay so you get hurt and youre losing a lot of blood and your lover realizes this and is completely heartbroken bc you dont have much time, the wound is deep

so um yeah the reader dies in their lover's arms basically, with albedo, heizou, kazuha, wanderer, xiao and kaeya

theres so many characters im curious abt so please take your time mwah

(ps: i will not pay anyone's therapy okay i need it myself, my condolaences for hurting you)

✎ i wasn't ready to say goodbye [various men - part one]

ft. albedo, aether, heizou, kazuha, wanderer, xiao & kaeya x fem!reader

content: do i need to say angst? i'm so sorry. major death + blood warnings. implied that reader can handle a weapon in most of them - unspecified if reader is a vision holder. hurt with absolutely no comfort. semi-spoilers for scaramouche/wanderer's story (end of the sumeru archon quests.)

notes: we added aether last second in the discord bc we summoned aki ( @kazumist - aly wanted you tagged ) some of them are awful and ooc i'm so sorry - officially managed this in just over 24 hours!

albedo treasures you more than he cares to admit verbally. it shows in all of his acts of love through physical means, lingering touches and making sure you're warm whenever you visit him on dragonspine. he hates you visiting him as much as he loves you - it's merely because it puts you in extreme danger every time. there's the temperatures, the wildlife, the lack of oxygen and of course, there's the monsters lurking around every corner of the inhabited mountain.

as the chief alchemist for the knights of favonius, there's always a warrant for albedo's life one way or another. the fatui are eager to stop his research - or steal it, maybe both.

there's a silence except for the howling winds that circle the snowy mountain. you're struggling to breathe, to get the sharp air into your lungs as you lowered your sword slowly. not far away, your boyfriend is finishing off the final fatui soldier, blood splattering onto his sleeve before he turns to face you. is it just you or does albedo look even more beautiful right now? you furrow your brows in confusion. albedo looks like he's seen a ghost, colour flushing from his face when he rushes forward. your knees give way under you and he barely manages to catch you in his arms, kneeling as he lets you lay against him. "bedo, love?" you mumble, unsure as to what's happening. you can hear the roar of your blood in your ears, your heart is beating whilst the adrenaline still pumps through your body. albedo hushes you softly, pupils dilated when he looks at your wound. "h-how do you feel?" his voice cracks when he asks the question, a gloved hand applying pressure to your side. you wince, the adrenaline is starting to fade and you feel faint. there's a cold sweat glistening on your forehead when you look down at where albedo's hand is, seeing the blood seep through your clothing. it's albedo's turn to watch your expression drop, your world starting to spin and mix together when the adrenaline is gone and you're aware of what happened. it feels as if there's a lump in your throat but when you try to cough it up, only blood spills in a small trickle out of your mouth. "love-" there's another cough, the blood is running down your jaw as albedo's hands start to shake. he has no means of saving you out here, you're nowhere near camp and he can't leave you here while he gets help, "i want to go home..." your voice is weak, trailing off and albedo isn't sure if he should let the tears brinking his ocean coloured eyes fall as your breaths become raspy. chapped lips open and close, trying to find the words to reply to you but all he can muster is a weak "we're going home, dear" when your chest ceases to rise again. his breathing is jagged, clutching you close to him as if you’ll disappear for good when he lets go.

aether clings to you like ivy to a brick building. you give him hope in this search for his twin sister - one he's beginning to think is failing, day by day. you reassure him, that bright smile and sparkling eyes setting him on the right path. he's certain he would have gave up ages ago if it wasn't for you. but aether realises that he is constantly in danger. you love to adventure with, crossing the rolling hills of mondstadt and gawking at the grand mountain peaks of liyue that pierce through clouds.

it was only so long before he faced the repercussions for so willingly letting you travel with him, tearing his hope away in the blink of an eye.

"a-aether?" your voice is wavering, aether is confused. you've been travelling with him for so long now, what could possibly have scared you about some hilichurls? but he turns to face you, blade at the ready - ready to protect you. his eyes fall on the arrow lodged in your chest, your eyes wide in fear as you stare at him in panic. it was already too late to protect you, he'd failed himself. aether drops the sword in his hand, paying no mind to how it clutters on the gravel below you both when he's rushing forward to ease you to the ground. you're stable - awake but for how long? you're in shock, it's going to fade and you'll succumb to the blood reddening your attire. aether swears lightly under his breath, unable to look you in the eyes out of pure guilt; this was his fault, he hadn't protected you. now not only had he lost his sister, he'd lost his partner too. "it hurts to breathe," you mumble, your eyelashes are fluttering gently. the sun behind aether is starting to burn at your eyes, "aether why are you crying?" the blond isn't even aware of the salty tears that glisten in the sunlight when they roll down his cheeks, dripping off his jaw and onto your shoulder where aether has laid your head onto his lap. it's comfortable, just as it always is. on days where you needed a break from walking, aether would often let you lay like this under a nearby tree. the thought makes aether choke out a sob. you smile sadly. "you can't leave me too," your hand cups his cheek, thumb weakly stroking at the tearstained skin when he hiccups, "no, this isn't fair." there isn't civilisation for days and he can't keep the arrow lodged in your chest nor does he have the means of stopping the blood if he pulls it out. aether is at a loss, unable to do anything while he watches the damage done to you internally take you from him beneath his own hands. "hey, you'll find her." you sound so certain, just as you always do and aether watches that positive spark die from your eyes when your breaths turn to rasps and he finds himself yelling at your body - at the sky, at anybody! he yells and yells, hoping someone listens to his cries for you to wake up. wake up, please.

heizou believes that of all the cases he's cracked, you're his favourite. he's read every line written into your skin as you age, the blemishes that litter your body and tell tales untold. you were his favourite mystery but now he had you like a stained glass window, beautiful and on display. although as a detective, heizou has destroyed many more lives than he is keen to admit. his suspects have families - lives, presumably before he has them in jail or worse, life sentence.

their families are hurt, angrily in denial that their own blood could commit such vile atrocities. heizou took something precious from them, what was stopping them from doing the same to him in an act of revenge?

heizou is more than used to his routine of coming home to you, being able to drown in the comfort of your arms after a long day of work. he's disturbed by the front door being open but albeit it's the peak of summer in inazuma, the humidity is drowning you, especially if you're not native to the islands. you're not quick to greet them when he steps in however, in fact he can't even see you. the house is untouched but the silence is deafening. "i'm home," heizou calls out, brows knitting together when he doesn't hear you chime his name back excitedly, "love?" the silence is killing heizou, it's unlike you at all but then he hears it, the meek sound of you calling his name out back. it sounds like you're in the bedroom and with a relieved smile, heizou finds himself heading to find you. but verdant eyes fall on the red smeared on the walls, staining the bedsheets and pooling around you. the relief is gone and his body is tense with dread as he drops the case files he'd been holding, quick to kneel with you and hug you close when you reach for him. "what happened?" his voice is panicked, he's barely breathing when he feels your blood soak through his clothes. he's searching you for your wound, shaking, "love, answer me." your chapped lips open but nothing seems to come out, you feel cold to the touch and all you can do is stare up at heizou. you knew the moment you was attacked that this was it for you but your biggest fear wasn't death, it was heizou. it was your witty detective, keen and full of intuition that he prides himself in; it was whether you'd see him one last time before your heart put in its final beat. heizou doesn't take your inability to speak lightly, letting out a flurry of curses that makes your brows furrow in distaste. you wasn't fond of him swearing when he got stressed but as you watch a tear fall down his cheek, you know you can't argue about his tongue anymore. he has every right to be mad when your bloody hand reaches up for him, the warm palm of his hand quick to grab your hand and coat his fingers. "i love you," you mumble, raspy and heizou is quick to shake his head - conserve your energy, "don't cry please." "you're not allowed to leave me," he chokes out, his lower lip tugged between his lips as his spare hand presses on your wound to try stop the bleeding. you wince but heizou doesn't lighten the pressure in fear, "i'll find who did this." your lips curl up at his words and heizou leans to press a kiss to your forehead, which is clammy and covered in a light sheen. by the time he pulls away, he's the only one left breathing in the room. heizou's shaking hands cup your cheeks, eyes darting around the room when he doesn't quite know what to do. he's used to this - the blood, the smell, the touch of a lifeless body but not when it's you. not when it's the love of his life. he wails in anguish, the taste in his mouth bitter when he swears revenge on whoever took you from him.

kazuha took his time warming up to you when you first met. you didn't blame him, you'd heard the tale of his late friend from captain beidou when you first came onboard the alcor. but your patience with him warmed his heart quicker than expected, leaving you inseparable as you travelled with the crew. even on land, kazuha was joined to your hip. he claimed he was there to protect you and that excuse expanded tenfold when you started dating.

he should have never taken his eyes off you, simply searching for firewood shouldn't have consequences like this.

when the last treasure hoarder falls limp to the dusty ground, kazuha finds himself enveloping you in his arms, eyes frantically scanning your face for signs of pain. you're unresponsive, eyelashes shut but your breathing is shallow while your body fights the unexpected blood loss. "fuck," he whispers, much out of his comfort zone when he's trying to find exactly where your wound is. your blood is staining his skin, getting under his nails where it'll haunt and remind him of what happened for weeks, "y/n? love?" your brows knit as if you can hear him but he's unsure if you're just reacting to the pain. your body is most likely in shock and kazuha is running out of time before the shock fades and you're left in excruciating pain until your last breath. the thought makes kazuha feel sick. he was gone for at least ten minutes, how did he lose you so quickly? he shouldn't have told you to stay at camp by yourself. you'd offered to go with him but kazuha trusted you'd be safe without him, even just for a few minutes. his face turns sour at his own thoughts. how foolish had he been to think you'd have been safe without him? "i-i love you," he stutters out, voice cracking as he presses a kiss to your head, burying his nose in your hair when he tries to blanket himself in your scent - begging to the archons that he'll wake up in bed, "come on, let's go back to the alcor, beidou will get help." he's speaking to you in the softest of tones, his voice hushed as to not disturb the silence of the countryside - or attract more unwanted attention. carefully, kazuha raises himself to his feet with you in his arms. he sees tomo in you for a moment, forcing himself to swallow when there's a suffocating lump in his throat. by the time kazuha has stumbled back to the alcor, beidou rushing over with her face void of colour, your heart is no longer thudding against your ribcage. kazuha will never again hear your heartbeat when he lays his head on your chest or feel your pulse in your wrist when he grabs hold of you.

wanderer figured it was foolish to fall in love after all he'd gone through. what was love when you've been betrayed so many times before? when the archons have so harshly ripped the ones you love away from you? he likes to scowl and shun the premise of love until he met you, an adventurer from the guild assisting in vahumana darshan commissions. you would stubbornly strike conversations up with him, following him as he walked away until he finally caved and would reply.

was it foolish to fall in love or rather was it foolish to place his fragile trust back in the hands of the archons?

his ears are ringing, was mawtiyima forest always this loud? no, it's not even loud - it's silent. the silence is buzzing in his ears, driving him insane as he watches you cough blood onto the dirt. you'd been tasked with clearing out the treasure hoarder camp within the glowing forest - but wanderer isn't stupid. to let you do that alone? he'd be a mad man. but now he isn't too sure if he should have tagged along. would it have hurt him less to find out you'd passed away out on a commission through the guild? or is it hurting less to watch as you splatter that precious red that you humans rely on all over the ground? wanderer finds himself barely able to utter a word. that's rare, he usually has something to say in that stark, rude tone he never explicitly dropped. it made him cold, it stopped people approaching and getting close. why didn't it work against you? "w-why are you looking at me like that?" you croak out, pupils dilated and staring at him in concern. he's as pale as the snow on dragonspine but the tip of his nose is a pink hue as tears well up and sting at his widened eyes. he's not crying, he refuses to cry - he puts it down to not having blinked for a while. so he blinks but you're still hunched over, impaled by a polearm before him. he finally moves forward, kneeling carefully to the side of you as you let out a choked sob, your hands gripping his cold ones tight in yours. he's confused, what did he do to deserve it this time? he didn't ask for this existence in the first place. cursing under his breath, his eyes land on your sword on the floor. it's worn, getting dull and wanderer questions if you was unable to protect yourself properly. no. he didn't protect you properly and the archons saw an opportunity, another jab at his curse of an existence. his eyes dart between you and the blade, then the polearm that isn't welcome where it is. you wince, hiccuping as you wail into the silence of mawtiyima forest. your vision is falling hazy in between the blur of your tears and you're struggling to keep your eyes on your boyfriend's familiar face. "no, no, no - don't go," wanderer panics. it's the first thing he's said since he offered to join you on this commission, "don't leave me, not you too." you let out a sad laugh, coughing blood once more as your breaths get shorter with every one you take. wanderer feels sick, the tears are falling down his cheeks and he can't deny them anymore. there's a last breath, raspy and suffocating before your body falls forward into his arms, limp like a doll. wanderer screams out into the night, hands clutching at the guild's uniform you would proudly wear. how many more times was he going to witness someone getting hastily robbed from him?

xiao keeps his distance, even as your beloved boyfriend that you struggle to be away from for extended periods. you were stubborn, believing he didn't have to succumb to his karma as an adeptus. no matter how much he would shuffle away, he could guarantee you would shuffle after him until he no longer moved away. you still gave him his space - you knew you could find him at wangshu inn.

or if you really needed him, in the midst of the night for a multitude of reasons, you could say his name.

there's a lump in xiao's throat, what the fuck happened? one moment he knows he hears your hurried screams of his name, there's a shrill panic in your tone and he's alert in seconds. he thought you was perhaps in danger but when golden eyes see how you're leaning back on a tree, blood soaking your shirt - and your blade, he realises the danger is gone. and in all of your stubbornness, you had defeated the danger alone but put your life on the line as a result. you smile at him weakly, his footsteps silent as he rushes over to your side. "i got it, don't worry, love." you sigh, tilting your head back on the bark. xiao scowls, you're losing consciousness from the blood now, it's starting to pool beneath you and run down the cracks of the bark behind you. this isn't a minor injury and yet you hadn't called for him sooner? "we need to get you out of here - morax- zhongli- he can help," he barely breathes in between his words, swallowing at the tight feeling in his throat when your eyes are closing, "keep your eyes open, please." his beg falls short of no one's ears other than his own and the stars above. xiao stops breathing himself, holding his breath when he hurries to press the pads of his fingers to your neck, your wrist, anywhere he can try find a pulse. but there's nothing, your body is still warm and xiao pulls you flush to his chest when tears begin to fall down his cheeks. "keep.. them open. please." he repeats in a whisper, nudging his nose against your head as he buries his face into your hair. he's begging in hushed whispers, words disappearing into the strands of your hair in silent prayers.

kaeya was the one who chased you first, lisa's darling library assistant. he'd never spent so much time in the library in his life, other than crepus' own library at the winery but he wasn't much fond of that collection. he isn't much fond of the knights' collection either, reading the same book every day. jean occasionally entrusts you to handle matters in the valleys of mondstadt, to which kaeya is quick to always interfere and say that he'll go with you.

history will always repeat itself until the lesson is learned and an innocent soul has to face the reality.

thunder booms over head, followed by a distant crack of lightning that illuminates the dark sky above mondstadt. kaeya is stood, motionless as he looks at you. his eyes are distant, there's a vacant look about him when the blood is running down your bare legs and mixing with the rain. you're both soaked but your clothes are staining red where a mitachurl's axe caught you in the side. the blood is coming quick and heavy, there isn't time for kaeya to get you back to the city. this scene is familiar when you fall to your knees in the mud, hands holding at your side for pressure. suddenly, your hair is a bright shade of red. is kaeya about to stand and do nothing for a second time, when history is repeating himself right in front of his very own eyes? he swallows but it's difficult, rushing to your side. you're losing consciousness but your eyes are scanning his face. the sun kissed skin, the worn leather eyepatch and his messy blue ponytail that now looks like waterfalls cascading around his face. you smile at the thought. you should visit the waterfalls of mondstadt when the weather picks up so you can gawk at them. "baby?" it comes out of his mouth, barely audible above the rain, "say something - are you okay?" you almost throw back a playful retort but your vision is darkening around the edges and you're grasping to what sight you have left to look at kaeya. your vision blurs when tears threaten to spill - are you scared? you open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. kaeya's gloved hands cup your face, pressing his forehead against yours. "stay with me, love, i can't lose you," kaeya's frantic and his words are jumbling when he panics, "we'll stop the bleeding and take you to sister barbara-" kaeya pauses when he notices you haven't blinked despite the rain falling onto your face when he pulls his forehead away. there's a distant look in your eyes, the light has faded and he can't feel the hot, struggled breaths you was taking against his skin anymore. a flurry of angered swears leave his lips and he's careful when he carries you bridal style to the dawn winery. it's the first place he thinks to take you, back to his brother who can't bear to see kaeya stood in the rain again with blood drenching his clothes from the long walk to the winery's front door.

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heliiacus · 3 months

Text

dopamine rush

tags: armin x reader, fingering, semi-public sex, (technically empty) library sex, reader has implied ADHD, studying together, reader uses she/her pronouns

warnings: sexual content, MDNI

words: 3.2k

★Oh, but you know this one. A bad habit of studying late into the night with your study partner is never truly a bad one, right? What could ever go wrong, sans the little lack of sleep? Surely, your good grades speak for it.

★ Until one night when you are crunching, until one night when you can't focus; until the moment your impassive study partner offers to get you off in order to help you study more.

★ Spoiler alert: Armin Arlert is not impassive, neither is he cool, and neither is he as indifferent about this predicament as he first pretends to be.

To his credit, Armin only seems to lose his composure with her on her third indignant launch of the pen across the table.

It was an accident. Really, it was.

"Are you having trouble focusing?" He asks, even and calm, but when she turns to him, she sees the tell-tale spark in his eyes, staring her down with an equal indignation that her pen must now be feeling. Fiery in its nature, it is short-lived, and soon Armin sighs, the tension leaving his shoulders just as quick as it had settled into them.

"I'm sorry," she offers, smiling sheepishly when he stands to take her pen. "I'm so stressed about this exam that I can't even focus on it anymore," she admits, and then reaches her hand out to take her pen.

His eyes meet hers when he hands it over. His hand curls around her fingers, pressing them into a fist around the pen.

"I know," he says, sitting down, and then she watches as he exhales heavily, closing his laptop without another word. "I didn't mean to snap," he tells her quietly, turning to look at her again. "Let's take a break?"

"I don't know if it will help, but let's," she says, and her eyes linger on the document in front of her before her laptop flickers into a blackness. "Studying past midnight was a mistake."

"It was your idea," Armin says as he leans his chin on his hand, and she can't help but return the coyness in his smile.

"Look here, Mr. Smugness," she points her pen at him. "It usually is a good idea."

"Mhmm," he hums, the note dragging, and his eyes squint as he grins at her. "And it's not tonight, because?"

She sighs then, letting the pen roll onto the table. "Fuck knows," she admits, then leans backwards, letting her head rest on the back of the chair. "My focus has a mind of its own. Usually, adrenaline helps, what with the dopamine, you know?" Armin nods at her, following her and leaning his head on his chair, too. "But I think I'm too in my head to focus now."

Armin takes a moment before he replies, watching her wordlessly. It is unnerving, in a way; sitting across him at night, alone in a large building. Not another soul can be seen in the library with them, and though she has been alone with Armin before, this time feels... Different.

Perhaps she is tired, she thinks.

Perhaps it is the way he watches her, now: observing her in a way she has not noticed before, his large, warm eyes following the shifting of her body, as if she were inscrutable to him. Or perhaps the opposite.

"But you'll do fine. You do know that, right?" He finally asks, snapping her back to him, and though the anxiety sticks to her, she feels pleased at how assured he sounds when he says so.

"Sure," she quips, not trying to start a disagreement, and he laughs at her, sharp and quick.

"You will. You always do." She feels his foot nudge her ankle, and she smiles in response. "We could stop tonight. Get some sleep, start again tomorrow."

"Do you think we can afford that? We're a bit short on time here."

Armin hums in response, looking up. She watches as he straightens his back, then rubs the back of his neck, and she wonders if he, too, feels stressed by the exam, or if his aloofness is natural; if his confidence is keeping him in check.

He picks up her pen once again, his thumb gliding against its edge. "..We should continue," he finally states, eyeing the pen. "At least a few more hours."

His eyes rise to meet hers, and she finds a streak of regret there. Worry, even.

"I agree," she says, nodding, and now it is her who bumps her shoe against his, trying to ease the worry out of him.

"Can I help you in any way?" He offers earnestly, straightening his back. "Sugar helps with focus, no? I could run get you something."

She clears her throat, waving her hand haphazardly in the direction of the opened snacks on the corner of her desk. "Magic trick didn't help this time."

"Exercising?"

"Why do you think I've been walking back and forth so much?" She asks, laughing, and he sighs in response, falling deep in thought.

It is then that something passes through him; an idea, she is sure, but clear as day she can see it stick to him, something akin to hot wax, and then he looks at her, eyes steeled and shoulders tense in an aloof sort of discomfort. She thinks he will say something then, but he only leans backwards, eyeing her with a look she can't quite discern, and though she thinks she should feel uncomfortable, she finds, instead, her palms burning beneath his pinning gaze.

He hums then, short and decisive, and she knows he has made his decision by the way his shoulders ease. He inches closer to her then, just enough to seem a tinge conspiratorial, before he tells her: "Didn't you say before that orgasms help with focus? Massive dopamine boost, and all that."

She sucks in a breath. Is she surprised? No, she finds that she is not. She thinks a part of hers was ready for that question, watching as mischief swirls in Armin's eyes, and despite this territory being new and unbreached with him, her shoulders ease with it. She can't help the laugh that bubbles out of her.

"You want me to sneak off to the bathroom, Armin?" She teases, watching as his head tilts ever so slightly at her words, and it is only for a moment that she feels pinned, once again, under his watchful gaze.

It’s so short, this moment. It thins and thins as it passes, stretching between them in an odd spiral of indiscernible emotions that strings itself through her. Then, just like that, it snaps open, and then, just as simply, he tells her: "I could help."

And there is a short, undulating second where he looks shocked and taken aback, as if the words have left his mouth without his permission, but it is gone so swiftly, so effortlessly, that she thinks she may have imagined it. Then, pen twirling in his fingers, his gaze sharpens and calms before her. When she doesn't reply, he asks her, with an indifference that almost soothes her: "Would you like me to?"

She isn't quite sure where her voice has gone; to the back of her head, or to her chest, or to the burning skin at her throat, but she is sure of the electricity that wreaks through her, and her eyes flit between him and the circling pen in his hand. She watches, breathlessly, as his other hand settles firmly on the table between them, and curse him as she might, she thinks of that hand.

"Maybe," she finally lets out, the word breathy with the air she's kept locked in her lungs, and though he stays stoic, face impassive as he watches her, she can see his hand flex involuntarily, a shock passing through it.

Responsive to her weak invite, Armin inches towards her. Breath baited, almost painfully so. Her pen is settled on the table with a soft click, and his hand slides down the table soundlessly. Effortlessly. He utters her name, the word sailing through her quietly, and as she watches and watches him come closer with an excruciating, almost unsure slowness, she says: "I would."

She wondered before, of course, how he would do it. Touch her. If he'd be slow or rushed, experienced or sloppy. If he'd look her in the eye or screw his eyes shut. If he'd talk to her.

She wondered if he knew of it, and now she thinks perhaps he did. Perhaps he does.

And then, all at once, she finds her thoughts melting as she feels his touch; a slow, soft drag of his knuckle down her arm. Getting her attention back to him, she realises. Grounding her. Into it – into this.

"Are you sure?" Armin asks her, words soft and careful to her ears, his eyes boring into hers with an expression that is almost new to her. Beyond attention, she thinks; focus.

She finds, then, that her lungs hurt. She finds that his knuckle, so questing and brave before, now sits stock-still on her arm, waiting for her response.

"I am," she says firmly, voice low from lack of breath, and his knuckle finishes the journey, finger curling around her forearm. A shudder follows in its wake, and Armin pulls his chair closer to her.

Their arms touch, now.

She wonders if he has always been this warm.

"Try not to make too much sound," he whispers, and it almost startles her when she hears the words right in her ear, his breath fanning at her skin.

"I won't," she promises, and finds herself biting down a whimper when she feels his hand settle on her thigh, his grasp warm and firm.

She thinks, distantly, that she should look around. See if there is truly no one there. But his hand, his bastardly fingers circle around the button of her pants, and his gaze burns into her as he undoes it, delicately, slowly; she finds, in turn, her eyes peeled hungrily to his attention.

Her breath stutters. Then, all is quiet save for a soft, uninvasive sound of her zipper.

His thumb brushes against the edge of her panties. She dare not look down, so she stares up at him, watching as his eyes run back and forth, from her crotch to her eyes, and she watches, with a peculiar awe filling her, as he bites the inside of his cheek, holding back – what? A sigh? A groan?

He tugs at the material of her panties, bringing back her attention to him once more.

"Is this okay?" He asks quietly, a gentleness in his tone that almost makes her thighs grow farther for him.

"Yes," she says firmly, softly, and then: "Please," she adds, her hand reaching for him, settling on the edge of his chair, and she thinks he would have gone slower, he would have teased her, perhaps, but there is a moment between her plea and his acquiescence where his hand crawls beneath the cloth, slithering determinedly inside, lower. She gasps, and he pauses, something unreadable passing through him as he feels it; how wet she is, his fingers slipping through her folds with an ease that is almost embarrassing.

Armin opens his mouth, but nothing leaves it, and though she waits for it, a comment, a question, anything, he instead clasps his jaw shut tight, and instead his finger pushes, carefully, gently, against her clit. She bites her lip, so hard she thinks she might break skin, and she soon feels that her hold of his chair has now turned into his shirt, but he does not say anything, instead watching her hungrily, instead gliding, once again, around her center. He does it again, then, and then again, less uncertain with each stroke.

She keens into his hand, finding it harder and harder to control her bucking hips, and it is then that she finds his lips at her ear again, the sound of his murmur almost, almost pushing her to the edge by itself. "Can I go inside?" He asks her, not coyly, not bashfully, but wanton, breathless, and when she nods at him she expects to find him coming undone, but even now he seems hard-set in his determination only; determined, she thinks, not to enjoy this, but to only get her off.

She thinks he will slide inside her immediately; she hopes for it, at least, but he takes his time with her. His other hand slides across the back of her chair, curling, slowly, around her shoulder, and his fingers press themselves against her clit in an unyielding, delicate pace. He leans closer to her, almost towering her – no, shielding her – and then, only then, this close to her, her safely tucked into his frame, his fingers quest lower, entering inside her and pressing into her soft spots, and she wonders if he can feel her thighs spreading for him, accommodating him.

And this, this he does with a precision she is so accustomed from him in everything else, and she breathes his name, the sound rattled and whiny to her ears, and at this she sees his eyes flutter closed, for just a moment, just enough for her to notice him exhaling, quick and harsh; enough for her to notice his pace quickening. She calls his name again, quieter, needier, letting her hand twist into his shirt, at his chest, and when his lips part, words unspoken left behind, she does it again, and again, until it finally, mercifully cracks past the last bits of self-control he's been lording over.

"That's it," he breathes against her skin, the heat of it spreading over her, something intangibly suffocating swirling in his eyes. "Just like that. You're doing so good, aren't you?" His gaze breaks from hers with an uncertainty, running back and forth between her eyes and his hand between her legs, inside her, and he watches her then: her hips twitching, bucking at the things he is doing to her. He closes his eyes, just for a mere moment, and then he whispers her name, and then her skin grows both hot and cold, all at once, at the terrible desperation in his tone. "Look at you," he says, choked and strained, his words dripping into her heat like wax. "Fuck."

"Armin," she whines out, the name leaving her throat in a desperate surge, and then he looks back at her once more, something in his gaze cracking further, beyond his own control. "More," she pleads, feeling another finger inside her before she can finish the word, pushing into her harder, quicker, and this she regrets with a swiftness, the pleasure pushing her beyond what she can take quietly.

"Shhhh," he coos gently, pulling closer to her, and closer, and now he towers over her, their noses touching. "Try to be quieter, sweetheart," he begs, diverting a fraction of her attention, and she finds herself wishing he would call her that again. She thinks he, perhaps, would ease his pace in fear of her growing whines, but he does no such thing. Instead, he looks at her, sharing her air as both her hands shake in his shirt, and there is something desperate, something mournful in his gaze as he fucks her with his finger. It is only later that she realises: he is looking at her lips.

Slowly, as she writhes beneath him, his composure, his indifference is cracking, and not much stands between his control and his loss of it as he speaks to her, as he whispers how pretty she sounds, as he asks her, almost pleadingly, if she feels good, if she feels good from him.

There is not much she can do here, not much but careen and whine and tell him exactly how good he makes her feel; but watch as his gaze loses focus at her words, as his wrist twitches, as he leans his forehead at her temple, breathing hard and ragged into her ear. She feels him kiss her jaw, the gesture short, fleeting, bashful; almost as if he were ashamed for it, as if he had stolen it, selfishly. He evades her gaze for a moment, pulling back until she tugs at his shirt, pulling him back in. "Kiss me," she pleads with him, and she watches as a shiver rocks itself through him at her words.

He kisses her then, and it is hard, almost sloppy; not from inexperience, but from fervor, robbing breath from her lungs and teeth clashing together, their minds too feverish to coordinate a kiss more delicate than this. Then his hand is at her jaw, and her lips are parted to him, and now he kisses her slowly, carefully, a far cry from the first contact between their lips.

And he whispers to her, here, like this: soft words, private words, some of them passing by her in a fleeting run as the pleasure builds in her core, and it isn't until he confesses just how ‘fucking long’ he's wanted her, that her body considers submitting to the avalanche which his fingers have wrought upon her. At this, she comes with a reckoning, and his lips are hard against hers in moments, muffling and swallowing the desperate cries that leave her. Her muscles tense, pushing hard into the hand in her cunt, and her grasp on him is so strong, she fears she will bruise him.

He eases her down, his pace slowing gradually, steadily, not letting a drop of her orgasm go beyond his reach, and then he holds her against him, lips at her temple as she catches her breath.

She thinks he will be aloof again, reticent in his retreat from between her legs, but she holds back a gasp when she feels him burrow into her hair, the caress both gentle and desperate in its nature. She can feel him exhale, a harsh sigh that feathers at her throat, and then she can feel him inhale: long, drawn-out, as if he were swallowing a small essence of her for himself.

"Impassive, Arlert," she breathes out thinly, voice trembling as she sits in his grasp, feeling, still, his hands burn on her.

"I know." He replies weakly, his voice laced with an odd, strained sort pitifulness, and then he nuzzles into her skin again, whispering: "Was that good?"

She doesn't answer, not immediately. Chest rattling from her heartbeat, throat weak, she feels watery, diluted in his hands, and it isn't until he rises, until his eyes pierce hers that she gasps any sort of reply to him.

He waits for her still, his expression inscrutable to her, save for the desperation, the deep, harrowing yearning she only now sees on him, and it is then that she feels his hand slide out, with a horrifying slowness, from in-between her legs. She whines, soft and weak, and it is almost embarrassing, the way her hips follow in the wake of his hand, seeking him again.

"Can't you tell?" She offers him weakly, timidly, almost, feeling the stark blush that spreads through her skin, and this seems to satisfy him. A wave of emotions wreaks itself through him, and though she tries to read it, discern it for all that it is, he looks away swiftly, busying himself with fixing her pants, then her shirt, then her hair. She lets him, leaning helplessly against the back of the chair, and it only now dawns on her that she is speechless, shocked beyond belief about what just transpired.

She thinks, then, she should say something; apologise, perhaps, or thank him, or anything, but he is quicker than her, far quicker, and before she can even form a word in her head, she feels her chair move, screeching quietly against the floor. He's moved her, straightened her, and now she sits right at the desk, in front of her laptop.

The same document sits in front of her, bright and flush; as if nothing happened at all.

"Focus now," Armin tells her, his lean finger pressing delicately into the edge of her screen, angling it towards her. "We'll revise in half an hour."

She blinks at the screen, and Armin quietly goes back to his studying.

Well, fuck.

dividers by cafekitsune

#armin arlert #armin fanfiction #armin x reader #armin x you #armin aot #aot headcanons #armin fluff #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot x reader #snk x reader #armin smut #aot fluff #armin x y/n #aot fanfiction #armin headcanons #aot smut #my writing

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moremousewrites · 18 days

Text

Through your Eyes

Pairing: Astarion/Tav (gn)

Request link

Summary: Your companions had a difficult time understanding what exactly you saw in Astarion. It seemed as though you were polar opposites. When you meet a young girl named Yenna, the camp starts to consider that maybe there's more to Astarion than they realized

Tags: Fluff, comfort

A/N: thank you for the request! They don't explicitly make a comment about letting Yenna stay with them but it's implied at the end. There's also some spoilers about the game but nothing too revealing.

Astarion had a reputation in camp for being a bit rough around the edges. Well, moreso that he was a manipulative jerk with no regards to other's feelings. You didn't share that opinion at all and your party was not sure why.

It isn't as though they hated him, just that he was sort of impossible. And what seemed more impossible was your love for him. You had sacrificed time and time again for total strangers- ones Astarion encouraged you to abandon and yet you couldn't stand to be apart for even a moment.

It made everyone a bit uneasy. Except Lae'zel who just thought you had a death wish and it was irritating to watch you put yourself in danger. But you trusted Astarion, he'd shown you that you could, even after he confessed his ulterior motives to you, you knew he was trying to survive just like you.

In Rivington, a child named Yenna asked for your help. The companions you traveled with knew Astarion was not a fan of children, he'd made that clear. They expected him to shoo the child away, until you helped her and he… approved? No snarky comments, no chastising. He thought you were doing something right.

It came as a bigger shock when she asked to stay with you at camp and Astarion said nothing of it. She wasn't the first stray you'd let in your camp. He'd made a fuss about Arabella. But it seemed your generosity was rubbing off on him.

Still, the camp wasn't convinced.

“I don't mean to doubt their wisdom, but it seems like an odd choice to trust him” Gale whispered to Shadowheart.

Shadowheart shrugged. “They're an adult. Besides, if we say anything we'll probably drive them closer together” she said, watching you help Yenna set up her things. Astarion offered a pet to Yenna's cat but it evaded him, looking very skittish.

“You're not wrong, I just don't understand what they have in common. Tav is so selfless and he's… Astarion” Gale mused. Rainclouds formed in the sky, blocking the sun. Your companions built their tents in preparation.

But Yenna looked very pale. Night came and the storms became violent. Wind blew the rain sideways and thunder exploded over the camp. You stayed with her in the barn, holding her as she shook like a leaf. Astarion brought extra blankets from your tent, giving you some warmth while you waited out the storm.

He could tell the young girl was terrified. It was a novel thing for him to see someone so scared and want to help. It wasn't something he'd go out of his way to do, but you were so caring and seemed important that he tried; for you.

“Yenna, would you like to hear a story about when Tav was scared?” He asked, a sincerity in his voice he rarely showed. Yenna nodded and bundled up more. Astarion began regaling her in stories of your adventures, painting a dramatic picture of you trembling in horror but gaining the courage to strike down your foes.

Gale had to leave his tent, nature was calling and the sound of the rain was not helping. As he made his way to the edge of the woods, he heard a sound through the heavy rainfall. It sounded like a child's laughter. There you were, holding Yenna in your lap, and watching intently as Astarion made animated gestures and scary monster noises. Gale was in shock. This couldn't be the same vampire that nagged at you for helping the children at the grove. Surely he was some doppelganger sent by Orin.

But it had to be him. Orin wouldn't have acted so out of character. This perplexed Gale. He left to the woods, doing what he initially set out to. And when he returned, Yenna was asleep in your arms. Astarion looked into your eyes, sharing some thought only the two of you would know. Gale waited, wondering if perhaps you knew this side of Astarion that he did not. Perhaps he had changed for the better. For you.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 11 months

Note

Hello it’s me again! It’s been a while, I hope you’ve been doing okay. I recently have been reading through a lot of angst to comfort and I have an idea for a request!

May I request an Ike fic where reader is a liver in NIJISANJI and has a crush on Ike but knows they have no chance with him. Then one day reader accidentally spills their feelings to Ike and Ike comforts them after hearing about readers feelings?

I hope you’re not tired of me requesting Ike fics (ily him to much) and I hope you have a good day/night! <3

-🖋️

stars above your skin

oh 🖋 we're really in it now

how long have i had this request in my inbox? early march? and now exactly one day after blue light dropped, i give you a ~19.5k word ike fic. much love and effort has gone into this one, only seconded by the massive amounts of brainrot.

so yeah, i'm not tired of ike requests. i'm literally a quilldren that writes fanfic. this is the opposite of a problem

in fact this might be one of my favorite things i've written... the second half is such a good bedtime story for me...!

this is going to get NASTY to read on tumblr—as in my site is lagging so hard just typing these a/n notes. so i'm going to remind you all that not only is liking/reblogging recommended to keep track of this fic, but also that i have an ao3 account (same name as url but without dashsince it's much more accessible than tumblr for long fic. i recommend reading on tumblr if you can because of some formatting but to each their own!

here’s a funny story about this fic. i was working on it while a bunch of people sat behind me, you see, and one of my greatest irrational fears is that people sitting behind me will be able to see my laptop screen and laugh at what i’m writing…! and with these requests i usually title them the fandom name and my name, and a short phrase about the request, and this one was “workplace romance”, and i just got so afraid right then and there i changed it to the first thing i could think of, based off a clip i saw of pomu, selen, aia and doppio…!! and that’s why the wip doc is titled “nijisanji 4402 - pliskin”, and why i will always refer to this fic as "pliskin" much more than the actual title

by the way here’s a cover of iris that was pretty fitting for this fic. you’ll know when to play it. enjoy

tags: hurt/comfort, reader is a niji vtuber, gender neutral reader, off-collab, mutual pining, misunderstandings, fluff, angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers, cuddling, everyone in niji is your wingman, implied uki/ren if you squint but it’s mostly because uki will flirt with 80% of the men in this company

cameos: aia amare, alban knox, mika melatika, nina kosaka, ren zotto, uki violeta, vox akuma, fulgur ovid (mentioned)

⚠️ drinking/alcohol (unspecified if reader drinks alcohol)

⚠️ horror/gore mentions (non-detailed), out of context outlast spoilers i guess?

author's commentary here (spoilers) ↣

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There are dozens of these videos on YouTube, and never have you come across the same one twice. You would know. You have a bad habit of clicking on them.

After all, they’re labeled with your name on them, and right next to it, Ike Eveland. You are smart enough to recognize it’s not worth your time and just another compilation of the same moments and fans trying to make a mountain out of a molehill, but your heart says otherwise. To be fair, the compilations were a much more recent development than the one you hid under lock and key.

When you first joined Nijisanji, some of your senpais sent you messages full of greetings and offers to help you get on your feet as a streamer. Ike was one of those senpais, and whenever you popped into voice calls just to hang out, he was easy to talk to, like an old friend. Naturally, a fast friendship formed, and when you debuted, he was one of the first people you collabed with- and the one with the best reception. Your new fans (‘Bookworms,’ they called themselves, after your name Reader) loved how well your humor bounced off each other, and when weeks passed and you announced another collab on your schedule with Ike, your Bookworms rejoiced.

Even when you weren’t working, you would still talk to him. He told you about his homeland in the past and his novels, both released and unpublished. He was a storyteller even when he was talking about something as minute as making a sandwich, and whenever you brought up your past and interests, he was an excellent listener. You had your differences, but he always knew what questions to ask so he could understand you better, and you loved the opportunity to ramble.

It had been nearly three months since you debuted, and four if you count the day you were officially hired and began to build yourself as a streamer. Whenever you look at the endlessly long text history between you and Ike, you have to wonder: is it normal to feel so connected to someone you’ve only known for three-maybe-four months?

You’re not an idiot. You aren’t about to say Ike is the most important thing in the world to you, but he gets pretty damn close. That terrifies you. You shouldn’t be so attached to someone you barely know.

But then again, you trust Ike. He’s opened up to you about things he would never say to others, and he keeps your secrets buried in the grave. You’ve lost count of how much advice he’s given you, but you’ve never forgotten a single one, and whenever you feel lost about something you know you can count on him to help you out.

You grimace, sip out of your drinking glass, and press ‘play’ on the next compilation.

A cute intro plays with the clipper’s name. Above it are the words Pen and Paper, surrounded by puffy pink hearts.

That was the duo name between you and Ike, but "ship name" was more accurate among fanwork.

You weren’t exactly unaware about it. Weeks ago, you were surfing Twitter and the site’s algorithm granted you your introduction into Pen and Paper. This was shortly after your first collab with Ike, and after you established your shipping rules with your audience (“I’m fine with anything, as long as the other liver is okay with it!”, you proclaimed, totally oblivious to how soon that would blow up in your face). The fanartist posted a messy black-and-white sketch, but you could make out the pattern of Ike’s scarf wrapped around you and him at the same time, forcing your bodies into close proximity with averted eyes and dusty blushes.

You appreciated the fanartist’s passion and skill, but the thought of you and Ike as an item sunk in your chest like you swallowed a rock. You swiped past. You went back to your scrolling, found some good thumbnails, and retweeted some cute solo fanart, but before the week ended, you made a private account with a fake name and staked out the tags for Pen and Paper to follow that fanartist.

Damn fanartist. You tried to deny it, and told yourself that you followed their art because you liked the style. But their account was full of ship art, and when Twitter gave you similar users that all worked under the hashtag, you had to face facts. If you wanted to look at it optimistically, at least you figured it out early on before anything had the chance to sour while you were still blissfully ignorant of yourself; even then, that doesn’t make it any harder than it already is.

Besides all the texts, the meetings, the schedules and events, and then including the streams and collabs and the art and the fandom…

“Why?” You ask out loud in the silence of your room. “Why did I have to fall for my coworker?”

And with audiences of over hundreds of people watching you fall for him, nonetheless!

It’s irritating. You have a job that keeps you motivated to work hard. It’s given you a dedicated fanbase, rare opportunities, and coworkers you all recognize as your friends. Really, finding someone to care for because of it should be a blessing, but it’s such a headache. What if your fanbases get jealous, or even worse, outright hate it? Would you be able to keep up a relationship when you and Ike are dedicated to your careers and streams? Why are you even thinking like this? You scold yourself. There’s no way this would ever work out. It’s all fantasy and smoke and mirrors, because fandoms love love. Shipping is never a reflection of the streamers, just the characters you play. You’re delusional if you think your stupid crush could actually go anywhere.

But fandoms love love. The only comfort you have is being able to pretend something could happen. The ship art is a lie, and so are the fanfics, and the clippers that tag their videos as Pen and Paper are just here for a possibility that never could happen.

The compilation is full of little hints and teases, and if you were being honest with yourself, most of it was more like two friends getting along than actual flirting. But you didn’t trust yourself to see your clumsiness for what it is when Ike’s little laughs are like music to your ears.

Damage control, you tell yourself. It’s like studying how you play your favorite games. You can pinpoint where you stumble and leave yourself open for attack in Apex, Smash, even Crab Game, and then amend those mistakes the next time you pick up the game. Real life should be no different. Just stop acting so dorky all the time by finding moments of dork in your VODs and avoid them next time you talk to Ike.

This clip was from your second collab with Ike. Captions floated along the bottom of the screen. Ike's captions were in his signature blue.

IKE: You know, there’s a lot of content about us two as a duo.

READER: They call us Pen and Paper, right?

IKE: Yeah, my art tag is flooded with art of the both of us.

READER: Oh my God, look at the chat. Mine’s full of people saying they love us together.

IKE: Aww, thanks, Quilldren! I’m happy I can play with Reader too.

READER: Thank you, Bookworms; thank you, Quilldren. Hey, there’s a lot more overlap than I expected.

IKE: They’re like Bookdren.

READER: Or Quillworms.

IKE: Quillworms, that sounds way better. They’re like our children.

READER: www

IKE: www

Never fucking mind about acting so dorky all the time. You kick yourself for bringing up Pen and Paper, and your giggly laugh. You hate it. A neon sign above your head that says “SIMP” would be less obvious than that stupid schoolkid laugh.

But Ike’s laughter is music, back in the moment and now as you revisit it, and his model’s eyes squint with a wide smile.

He really is an amazing man. If you didn’t know him as well as you do, you’d think he’s perfect. But you’ve seen him in moments of vulnerability, the parts of himself that never shows through on stream and even rarer among his friends. Through it all he manages to keep going, and you admire him so much for sticking to his guns even when he’s expressed all his doubts about himself. The fact that he trusts you enough to let his guard down only adds to how honored you are to know him, and at the same time, the fact that there’s so much trust between you two just makes you feel worse for having a crush on him. You hate keeping secrets like this when you let Ike read you like an open book for everything else, and even just wishing you were something more to him feels like a betrayal of all that trust. You wish you could just be satisfied to know him.

The compilation continues. The next clip is a totsu Fall Guys collab hosted by Fulgur Ovid that you and Ike joined in on. Fuuchan got eliminated early in the match, and spectated on you while the other livers ran around Roll On with players tugging them this way and that.

You moved around the rotating levels at the perfect sweet spot between two rings, and balanced at the top of the roll as the slime level slowly rose.

A longer wall approached, so you shuffled from one level to another, but another player grabbed your bean avatar and dragged you along to the wall even as you yelled out in panic on Discord. You smashed your keys to struggle, but they had an advantage, and it was clear the wall would push you down to the slime for an impending elimination.

That is, until a familiar Miku bean grabbed the other side of your avatar, and pulled the other way towards the ring that would save your life. Resigned, your attacker backed off and barely dodged out of the way while Ike’s Miku bean brought you back to safety.

The other two livers in the game were too noisy to notice you. Fuuchan was commentating every move you made, and when Ike saved you, he said, “Ike coming in clutch, let’s fucking go.”

Your recorded self didn’t hear him at all, though. You swooned, “Ike, my hero!”

Meanwhile in the present, you wanted to puke. You meant for that to sound like an over-the-top joke, but you crush is getting so serious that it sounds less like a bit and more like how you gush about him in private.

At least Fuuchan’s audio was louder than everyone else, since he was the host, and the other two livers were preoccupied with their own game to notice your lovey-dovey tone and how Ike laughed music at you. It was bad enough clippers transcribed your words in captions, but you weren’t sure how you would handle it if those three picked up on you and your dumb crush. The less that know about your workplace romance, the better.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

“Reader,” Aia coos. Even with audio only, you could tell her eyes were sparkling. “You didn’t tell me you had a workplace romance!”

Well, so much for that plan. You froze over. “Who told you that?”

Mika answers way too quickly. “It’s Alban’s fault.”

“Fuck off, Mika, you brought it up first!”

“You said it though!”

Man, you were already starting to regret joining VC today. You finished your offline work a lot faster than expected, so when you realized that three of your close friends in the company were all online in VC together while Alban privately streamed a rhythm game, you figured you would join the call while you prepared dinner.

But if that was your greeting, you needed to mentally prepare for the wild interrogation you were about to experience. At least Aia, despite her love for drama, knew how to navigate these sorts of things delicately. And you don’t mean to call Mika and Alban bad friends—they were the exact opposite, in fact—but they were much nosier than Aia ever came across.

“Okay, but Reader just asked who leaked it, and didn’t deny it,” Aia says. “So that means it must be true!”

Scratch that. Aia is the worst out of all of them.

“I hate you guys. No hello or anything, just gossip about my love life,” you lament.

She gasps, and if her eyes were sparkling before, then roses bloomed around her as she spoke. “It’s love?”

Mika shrieks like a banshee. “Oh hell no, you’re in love and you didn’t tell us?!”

“It’s not love. It’s nothing!”

“Nah-uh, Reader, no running away from it, we know,” Alban says. “Better to just get it all out in the open than pretend like nothing’s up.”

“You’re just saying that because you want to snoop.”

“I’m being serious. Keeping stuff bottled up deteriorates you, especially when love’s involved.” He missed a note. “Shit. And yeah, okay, I want some gossip, but I have a point and you know it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, I blew a full combo just to say that!”

“Can I add? In case you forgot, Reader, we’re all in the same company,” Mika says. “Sure, I might be in a different branch, but who knows? Maybe we can help.”

“And fuck you too.” You sigh in defeat. As vitriolic as your shared humor was, these three were still some of your best friends, and you know they don’t mean any harm. “Ugh, I hate this. This is confidential information. Like, CIA levels of confidential. If I tell you guys, you can’t tell a single soul about it. Understand?”

The three all chime in agreement. And unfortunately, you trust them. You take advantage of your coworkers swearing themselves to secrecy to hype yourself up and just rip off the band-aid. “It’s Ike.”

“We know.”

“What the hell do you mean, you know?!”

“It’s obvious,” Aia says. Your heart hammers in your chest. Then she sputters for a moment, like she realized she might’ve hit a soft spot. “Well, you have to focus on it to see it, but once you see it, it’s hard to ignore. You two go well together.”

Alban pitches in. “Agreed. I’m not even gonna be subtle about it, you and Ike have great chemistry. I’m happy for you two.”

“Okay, I guess.” Your eyes drift away from your prepared ingredients to the corner of your kitchen. “But I don’t know. Are you sure? Because I feel like I always act like an idiot whenever I’m around him. And I doubt he’d ever feel the same way.”

“Wait.” Aia pauses. “You’re… not dating?”

“No. Just a crush. Not love, not dating, nothing. And it’s never going to be anything more than that because it’s just a big stupid crush on my coworker, who doesn’t even live close enough to visit, and this is all a recipe for disaster.”

She doesn’t say anything about that. Actually, none of them do. Even Alban pressed pause on his game, and the Discord stream went motionless as your words sunk in.

Mika is the one to break the silence. “You’re shitting me.”

“That’s the truth. Happy?”

“No, like, you’re shitting me, there’s no way.”

“Mikaaa.” Alban drags out her name as he scolds her.

“Hey, I’m just saying, that’s crazy, especially since—“

“Don’t tell Reader that!”

“Tell me what?”

“We thought you were already a thing. You know, dating, in a relationship, whatever,” Mika clarifies. It hits you like a punch to the gut. “Or at least that you had something going on, and kept it secret so it wouldn’t be awkward for everyone else to work with you two. Which, by the way, we’re all chill with, so if, hypothetically, you decided to hypothetically go for it, we would hypothetically cheer you on and set off hypothetical fireworks. I’d rent a food truck.”

Alban resumes his game. “Yeah, what she said. Go get that hypothetical novelist bussy.”

“Don’t hypothetically talk about my brother like that.”

“You’re sure this is okay?” You ask. “Mika, I know you and Ike are close. This isn’t going to make anything weird, is it?”

“You’re fine, Reader. If I had problems, I would’ve cornered you and threatened you over text ages ago when I figured it out.”

“That’s another thing. How did you guys know?”

Aia pipes up first. “I know I said it was obvious, but I think that’s just because we know each other since we’re good friends. You two just go together, you know? It’s hard to explain, but whenever Reader and Ike-senpai are in the same room you think, ‘those two would be cute,’ and then you realize they are cute, right there in the moment. And you talk a lot faster on stream whenever you’re both on the same page. Almost as fast as me.”

“Plus, it’s really common to see both of you on VC at the same time, and you’re always happy whenever he shows up,” Mika affirms. “Alban says whenever one of you enters the call the other is soon to follow.”

“It’s true. You talk fast whenever you talk to him on VC too, not just stream. And your laugh kind of changes?”

“Dammit, I knew my laugh was my tell. This sucks. This seriously sucks.”

“It might not be all that bad,” Mika says. “Who knows, maybe things might end up better than you expect. You should tell him.”

“No way,” you fire back. “There no way he’d actually reciprocate. And I know you guys are fine with me asking, but Ike himself is just going to reject me, and it’s going to be awkward, and literally everyone in the company who has ever talked to us will be able to tell something’s up.”

“They won’t be weird,” Aia insists. “We won’t, either, and Ike-senpai is a good guy. Even if it doesn’t work out, he wouldn’t leave you out to dry like that.”

“You don’t know. None of you have ever been in this situation.”

“That’s true, but there’s always a chance.”

“If you ask me, it sounds more like you’re afraid of what you think would happen instead of what rationally would,” Alban says. He’s still laser-focused on his game. “I dunno. If you’re really set on getting over it, then go ahead and ignore it, but that’s just going to eat at you for who knows how long before your crush starts to fade.”

“Well, I didn’t ask.”

“Fine. Forget I said anything.”

You regret the acidic tone in your voice the second you said it, but Alban was off in his own world of music. He’d tell you if he had a problem with how you spoke to him, but you still feel gross about your knee-jerk reaction.

You’re just… defensive. Yep, that’s the word. Whenever you’re this interested in someone, you put your walls up and protect yourself from letting anyone worm through and hit a weak point.

Aia hums like an analyst. “Just keep it in mind, Reader. Not everything is out to get you.”

You know your friends just wanted the best for you, but things just aren’t as simple as they’d like to imagine it. It’s none of their business, anyways. It was pure coincidence that they figured out your thoughts on Ike, and that means none of them have any real authority to advise you on your love life.

“I think we’re done talking about this,” you assert.

“Well, you heard ‘em. Pack it up, show’s over.” Mika changed the subject. “Hey, did you guys know if you try to break open a freshly boiled egg, it explodes?”

Alban slams his hands on his keyboard so loudly that you hear the switches over his noise suppression. The stream goes from a string of Awesome! notes to nothing but misses as he abandons the game. “YES. Yes, actually, I DO know.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

“MEAT! WANTS MEAT! WANTS MEAT! MEAT!”

“AAAAAAAAHHHH!”

The stream is to the birds. Fuck that noise. Godspeed to the Bookworms, they’ll need it, but not nearly as much as you.

When you were settling on a schedule, the last undecided spot for the week was Friday’s stream. That simply wouldn’t do. Friday nights kick off the weekend, and the break from school and work is prime time for a wide audience, so pretty much everyone in Nijisanji reserves their juiciest streams for the weekend. You’re no exception.

…Except for the fact that you didn’t have a clue about what to do for Friday’s stream. One Twitter poll and conveniently timed Steam sale later, you published your schedule with a game your fans voted on: Outlast.

You walked in knowing it would be a horror game, and you figured it would be fine. After all, you’ve played games from Chilla’s Art before, and a few quirky indie psychological releases here and there. You wouldn’t call yourself a stone-faced horror lover that can keep a straight face at anything, but aside from a few creepy moments in those game, you’ve kept your cool relatively well.

Outlast threw all that out the window. You realized almost immediately that you had no idea how to handle the primal fear of the chase.

Footsteps pound against a metal floor. You plead for help in the emptiness of your home as you smash the controls, as if that would make your character move the cabinet over the door any faster. Screams resonate in tune between you and the chained man in the room with you, and all the while, the howling of your pursuer grows louder and louder as he gets closer.

You finally uncover the door and dash through. Tremors run though all your thoughts while your heart beats overtime.

You still haven’t gotten used to all the jumpscares, even though you’re at the edge of your seat and ready to start running yourself. A fork in the road approaches, and when you start off one direction, you’re greeted by a bloodied man in the distance. “AAAHH!”

Faster than light, you slam the key to the other hall and book it. You spot a new storage container to shove in front of the door just in time for text to appear on the screen: Look for pushable objects to block doors.

“No shit, why wouldn’t you tell me that before, oh my God, aaaaah!” The screams—from both the voice actors and your own cries—grate against your eardrums while chase music thunders in-between the gasps for air.

As you grab the container and start to push, you mash the pause button. When the menu appears, you lean back in your chair and run your hands over your face. Your model pouts cutely while the real you whimpers. The mic barely picks it up.

You take a breath before groaning in fear and pain. “Guys. I don’t think I can do this…” Another groan as you trail off. “This game is so much. Give me a second.”

As you raise yourself back from your chair, it’s with a slump forward. Your chat is full of headpat emotes and hearts in your color, along with some quick words of courage. A few are recommending you take a break. “Thanks, Bookworms. I’m so afraid, but I’m committed and I don’t want to just leave it here.”

Your eyes flutter closed as you take a sip of water to clear your head. The cold drink startles you out of the dingy asylum atmosphere, but the screaming still lingers between your ears. “You know what? Who else is online right now? Maybe I need someone in VC to hold me to this.”

The emojis in chat slowly patter out as your viewers go back to text. Looks like most of your Bookworms like the idea of calling someone else while you stream the game. Some of their messages catch your eye.

gatamiizuus: you can call ike :ReaderHeadpat:

messXed-up!: ike!!

lunasmortas: what about ike?

A few more chats mention Ike, and while usually you’d be irritated they mentioned another liver out of the blue, your shoulders still relax at the sight of his name. “Wait, Ike? Is Ike here?”

You scroll back in the chat history, and search for any mod messages. Sure enough, barely a minute ago while you were still being chased:

Ike Eveland 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : GANBARE!

You cling onto that message like a lifeline. Ike is familiar. Ike is comforting. And most importantly, Ike would never call you a pussy.

Chat floods over with his name while you check the official Nijisanji Discord server. Almost everyone in Nijisanji sets their status to offline by default, and Ike is one of them, but you still scan through the member list anyways, praying a little green indicator will light up by his icon.

His status doesn’t change, but before you can even click on his profile, your Direct Messages tab gains a notification. He just messaged you.

Ike Eveland: Watching your stream right now

Ike Eveland: Are you okay?

You exhale. Ike is the most dependable guy you know, even when it’s pure coincidence he was watching your stream while you freaked out.

With your heart still in your throat, you respond.

Me: uuuuuuugh i guess

Me: the game is really scary

Me: i don’t want to cancel the stream but i don’t think i can play it by myself 😭

Ike Eveland: 🫂 | 🫂 1 |

Ike Eveland: Would you feel better if I called you?

Me: i was just about to ask | 👌 1 |

Me: you don’t have to if you don’t want to tho!! i don’t want to be a nuisance lol

Ike Eveland: Don’t worry I offered to!

Ike Eveland started a voice call.

“Ikeee!” The second the call starts, all your restraint goes forgotten. “Ike, I was so scared!”

You babble on about everything you’ve endured up to this point: the gore, the grime, and the patients in the asylum that hunt you like animals.

“I’m here, it’s alright now,” he assures you. “I’m here, okay? Take your time, you’re safe.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m relieved. But it was so scary.” You sink and bury yourself in the collar of your shirt. “You’ve streamed this before, and kept a cool head the entire time, right? How do you do it?”

“Well, it wasn’t my first time playing, for starters. Everyone gets freaked out at first. It’s a horror game, Reader, it’s okay to react to it. I remember the first time I played it, it scared me so bad I had to quit after half an hour.” He giggles a bit at himself. The sound is comforting. “That was a few years ago. I think I had nightmares about it, until I realized I needed to know the rest of the story. ”

Your voice is small. “That was really brave of you.”

“I avoided it for days. I doubt that’s brave.”

“It’s braver than calling someone just to get the guts to play the game.”

“Hey, don’t put my friend Reader down just to bring me up.” He keeps his tone light to let you know you’re allowed to smile. “Being able to face your fears is plenty on its own, and you shouldn’t be devaluing that. How long have you been at it?”

“A little over two hours?” You glance at the stream monitor, and ignore the chat as much as you can. You still register the hearts in your color and his signature blue. “I don’t know. I did a lot of pausing, too, so it’s probably less than that…”

“But you were still able to stream for that long. Remember, I could only play for thirty minutes during my first time! You’re stronger than you think you are.”

You avert your eyes from your stream setup. You feel painfully seen, but the chat is nothing to you. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“Then I’ll be here to remind you. Is that okay?”

“I’d like that.” You return to the screen, and in the darkness of the blurred labyrinth, you see your reflection stare back. Your hair is disheveled from how you kept thrashing around in reaction to the game and your shoulders are high with tension, but only now did you realize how the corners of your lips rose after the call started. Ike really got to you. “Thank you, Ike, you’re so considerate. I appreciate you a lot. You’re a really good guy.”

He chuckles slowly, soft like a blanket. Your shoulders ease. Ike’s words are just as soft, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s nervous too. “Haha, um. Yeah. Thank you?” He doesn’t take compliments well, but they’re true, and you hope he knows it as well as you do. He clears his throat. “Ahem. Um, how are you feeling?”

“Not great, but better. I want to try again.”

“You’ve got this, Reader, you can do it.” Ike is still quiet, but enthusiastic. “You can do it!”

You go shaky. “Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay.”

But you still press Return To Game.

And when you scream barely five seconds later, Ike is still calm, and you hone in on his voice as you persevere.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Just as you go to bed, you realize that you basically just made a fool of yourself in front of your crush by getting scared at a game he’s already conquered.

You slam a pillow over your face and groan.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Ike lands an all-out attack just in time to check the chat and the swarm of viewers that just joined. “Oh, Reader! Thank you for the raid, it’s good to see you! Welcome, everybody.”

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : take care of my bookworms for me? i’m getting milk

“Of course. They’re our Quillworms, after all.” You go fuzzy. He remembered the fan name! “Have a good break, Reader! Rest well.”

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : 👍

It was the end of the week, and the stream you just finished was the last on your schedule. You announced a few days ago that you would take a break for a little more than two weeks so you could catch up on offline work as well as rest, and the Bookworms sent you off with a lot of love. It’ll be hard for some of your diehard fans, but you’re sure they’ll manage. You have a feeling it’ll be easier than they expect.

“Speaking of breaks, I haven’t finished my schedule yet. I think I’ll wait a day or two to post it.” The stream cracks in red and black as Ike’s party in Persona 5 Royal clobbers the enemy Shadows. Monsters bleed out behind the protagonist’s cocky smirk. “I’ll be offline for the next two days, so I’ll have some time to think about it.”

Ike mashes through the battle results, and sets back off into exploring the palace. His stream fades into background noise as you get back to the task at hand.

You sent a few messages to some of your other coworkers regarding your break. Next was finishing some paperwork for management, and reaching out to others that needed access to the files. Sure, your time off was for offline work, but the work you had to get done would only take an afternoon at most. You wanted to meet even the far-off deadlines as soon as possible so you could be properly free for the rest of your vacation.

By the time you finished your paperwork, your coworkers were able to respond to you. A group chat full of other livers had a new response every minute about the next two weeks, and Aia sent you a QR code that would let you save some time and money on your flight.

Ike ended yet another super-long P5R stream just a few minutes after you grabbed all your luggage, got to the airport, and made it to your terminal. You had some time to kill, but you were sick of the headphones over your ears.

Not to mention, you were waiting for the fans to catch up on the real reason why you were on break.

Curiously, you log into your private Twitter—you don’t plan to interact with anything but you’re always paranoid about your online presence—and start searching for the code words fans think Vtubers have no idea about. Symbols replace letters and names morph into sounds while emojis speak volumes.

The Stargazers don’t mention it at all. That’s to be expected, after all. Their oshi goes on break often, so nothing seems too out of the ordinary. Besides, you wouldn’t put it past them to have even more intricate subtweets than what you’re looking for.

Only a few of Nina’s Honeybunnies put the pieces together at first, but then you check Quilldren subtweets. As it turns out, when Ike mentioned he’d be taking a few days off, a few of his fans noticed how Nina was going to be offline at the same time, and a smaller fraction of those compared how Mika had yet to release a schedule.

Underneath your face mask, you smile. With the career being dependent on both anonymity and your voice, you wore a nondescript black mask through the entire airport in case someone recognized you, just as well as to hide the tiny giggle that always bubbles up whenever you watch your fans scramble around theorizing. They don’t have all the pieces, after all. None of the Aiadmirers nor the Renvaders even considered it.

They’ll figure it out in time nonetheless. Uki and Nina are close to landing, and Aia was the first to disembark her plane. The rest of your friends are set to arrive after you, and besides, Vox should be ending his last stream of the week right now. You’re sure the Kindred will start plotting in the next hour, provided their oshi didn’t give them too big of a hint about his plans for the next week as he’s known to do.

You board your plane and settle into your seat, ready to nap the flight away. You’ll need the rest, after all. It’s about time you join an off-collab.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Nina doesn’t even get the chance to look away from her phone before she gets a rush of replies on her first voice tweet.

She doesn’t bother to read them anyways. She’s too busy howling out the lyrics to “Wannabe.”

It’ll be hard to discern all the voices. Ike’s high range is always easy to pick out, but Vox blends in as a bass, and you can always hear Mika’s grin through her singing. Ren and Aia are the furthest from the phone, and as loud as they sing, they’re still drowned out along with you, Uki, and Nina herself.

Mika chooses the wrong time to look around the karaoke booth. While Aia sings passionately about what she wants (what she really, really wants), her body language crumples and rises like an electrocuted high school theater kid. The ghost has a hiccuping, sweeping laugh that overpowers half of the singers, and then Aia snorts at herself when Mika covers her mouth, which gets Vox to snort even louder, and before you know it, it’s just Uki and Nina doing their damndest not to break. Even then, Nina’s voice wavers along to the Spice Girls as she resists a laugh, and Uki’s eyes are squeezed shut smiling.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The bar stool slides out from the counter so quietly that you wonder if the Airbnb owner knew just how handy it would be for a house full of streamers on vacation. You lean forward while Mika tells a story about how she, Aia, Ren and you went out for a coffee run, and crossed paths with some teenagers with matching Iluna keychains on their backpacks.

Speaking of Iluna, their represents sat together on the couch. Aia set her plate and fork on the coffee table, not a single pool of sauce left over from the pasta dinner Vox and Uki prepared together. Somehow Ren made enough room in his luggage to bring along a teal ukulele, and idly strums along. Uki sits between Ren and the armrest, swirling the last of his pasta between his fork.

Across from them, Vox and Nina took ownership of two plush chairs that could only fit one person each. Each chair was next to a corner table, and they stacked their plates on top of one another to make room for a jug of orange juice and two cocktail glasses. Ike took a bottle of rum and poured it into his soda, then slid it back to the corner table before pulling up the bar stool next to you.

“It was like, one of them had a clear phone case and held it out to show the others a video,” Mika says. She perched on top of the counter itself, next to her travel microphone and the second-nastiest kitchen stream setup you’ve ever seen. She was no Scarle, but so many wires stretched across the island and along the way that it was just easier for her to climb onto the polished granite to keep an eye on the chat. “Smack-dab in the center was a PNG of Vox. And then a bunch of tinier Voxes around it. And here’s how you know it’s bad, you could see the color of the phone itself through the case because it’s clear, right? It was red. Red! That’s commitment!”

“I’m telling you, Mika, there’s no way they got a red phone just because of Vox,” Aia says. “That’s got to be a coincidence.”

Vox hums into his glass. “No, they absolutely did. You mean to tell me your fans don’t spoil you rotten and buy new phones just because they’re your color?”

“My color is white, Vox, like every phone ever is my color!”

“Still, I’ve never seen Aia go so quiet so fast.” Ren’s ukulele twangs as he grins. His fangs were just as prominent in real life. “It was awesome.”

“It was scary, but funny,” you say. “We saw the Vox case and the Iluna keychains, and all of us just went silent. And we all had masks, too, so it was like, one moment you could hear Ren’s fuckboy laugh, and the second we saw the case, we all put up our masks and went quieter than the grave.”

Ren palms the neck of the ukulele and mutes the chord in mock offense. “Hey! I’m not a fuckboy!”

“Didn’t say you were, but if you want to out yourself like that, be my guest. They’d chop off your horns and sell them like Kyo.”

“One of them had an Aster keychain.” Ren bitterly resumes playing. Uki sets his plate on the table and drapes himself over the alien’s shoulder as he opened up his phone to check the off-collab’s live tag. The stream was supposed to be a live Q&A, but was so easy to talk to everyone that the questions often turned into conversation before someone remembered the stream. “If Aia or I said anything, we’d be fucked.”

“Imagine how fucked we would’ve been if Vox woke up in time to go with us,” you say.

Ike snickers. “Is it bad that I would’ve paid money to see that?”

The two Luxiem members get into a playful argument over who would win in a fight: all the effort Nijisanji and its employees put into protecting their privacy, or one silly phone case. Ren’s riffing turns into a simple rendition of “Iris” and Nina hums along from across the living room. The ukulele is slow and unique enough to not be mistaken for the original, but you wonder if those two would be able to avoid copyright entirely.

Nonetheless, the vibe is comfortable. You’re miles away from home, but in a room with some of your closest friends in the world, it’s like you never left. Truthfully, it’s more like you’ve finally found your place. The music just feels right, like it was written for this moment, and Aia leans back into the couch while Nina sways in her seat to the jaunty little ukulele. Ren looks as cheery as his instrument sounds, especially with a peaceful Uki nuzzled up to him.

While Ike and Vox go at it, Mika props her chin up with both hands and watches them like a reality TV show. There’s a glint in Vox’s eyes as Ike drums up a snide response, the only sane man to the demon’s goofiness. He brings his rum and coke to his lips like punctuation, a silent so, what? hidden in the boozy soda.

Vox knows how to run his mouth, and he launches into one of his patented anecdotes. While all eyes are on the demon and the chat hones in on his voice, you focus on how Ike tilts his head up to drink. His neck stretches out from the collar of his black band tee, and with each sip, his Adam’s apple bobs.

You’ve always thought he was good-looking on stream, but he’s gorgeous in person, all long lines and graceful features, and cameras can’t capture the tiny little freckles drizzled down the back of his neck. You didn’t even know he had freckles. It was only after you saw him for the first time that you noticed pale, reddish dots all over his nose and cheeks, fading out by his temples and the arch of his lips. Spending the day walking around in the sun from place to place revealed more whenever the wind flicked his jacket collar out right. They scatter at his nape, right below the blue tips of his hair, and meet one another further down his back, or so you’d presume. Without the jacket, you can catch marks spread out along his arms with distance between one another, and his shirt sleeve starts right where the freckles cluster together. You can only imagine how far down they go.

You avert your eyes. You can’t think about what’s under the shirt when you’re sitting right next to him, and certainly not while on stream, even if chat can’t see you check him out!

Unfortunately, the side opposite of Ike is the one with Ren and Uki. Those two are idyllic. Without a care in the world, it seems. You envy how easily Uki can act on what he wants, even if you know he doesn’t see Ren like how you see Ike. Ren doesn’t mind it at all, either. He literally lives by the rhythm of his own ukulele.

Ike lowers his drink with his eyes closed, as if it would make the refreshing feeling last longer. His eyelashes are the same ashen color as his hair. Gold gleams between his ears and on the chain of his glasses.

Possessed by the music, and distracted by the rambling, you become one with the background and lean along Ike’s arm.

It’s an indulgent dip into the waters, but shallow compared to all you feel for him. Ever since you met Ike in person it’s been easier to control yourself around him, and if anything, you’re reminded that this is the man you’ve gotten the closest to in both career and friendship. The only barrier between your cheek and his body is his shirt sleeve, but your arm rests against his forearm, right where the freckles taper off. There’s no resistance at all as you make yourself comfortable in the crook of his arm.

But you hold yourself back. Even though the off-collab made you feel gutsier than before, you think that you’d pass out if you tried anything else. Besides, you feel so at peace against his arm, but too afraid to look up and see his reaction.

The blend of peace and fear churns in your heart as it dawns on you: you were wrong to call this a crush. It runs far deeper than you could’ve imagined.

Vox says something with finality. His voice snaps you out of your thoughts, but the words go unregistered. As he spoke, his eyes drifted around with his body language, but he snaps to look at Ike expectantly. You swear his smirk gets a little more mischievous as he does.

The air stills, even though you know eyes aren’t on you, just the man you lean on. It stays frozen as Ike waits to respond. You still don’t have the heart to look up at him and break your selfish, unrequited fantasy.

You just want to stay here, unresisted.

Ike deadpans. “Anyways.”

Just like that, the moment is over, and Mika laughing at Vox striking out clears the air around you. But Vox’s eyes fall to you for just a split second as he moves in his seat. Frost settles down your back at the thought that he knows, but there’s a solid chance he hasn’t connected the dots. You pray he hasn’t.

Then you see Fox Mom herself right behind him, and she shoots you a shit-eating grin with a hand over her heart and a glass in the other.

No doubt about it. You’re screwed.

The frost turns to glaciers and burns into hot shame all at once. You love Nina, you really do, and you’d always consider her a good friend before coworker. However, she’s known for fishing around for any crumb of fanservice, and she gets straight to the point whenever she eggs it on, not to mention how she loves to tease her kids on just about anything. You are never going to hear the end of this if she can help it.

You really don’t know what you expected. It feels like everyone’s staring at you, even the chat. You can’t help but feel bitter. How come Uki can flirt with as many guys as he wants, you wonder, but I can’t even touch Ike without getting eyed up?

You know the answer, but it doesn’t do anything to help the bitterness and the embarrassment, and how much you want to hide. On instinct, you take advantage of the warmth and nestle yourself deeper into Ike to hide your face, just in time as he curls his head above yours.

Nina makes a sound kind of like a fork stuck in the garbage disposal for the briefest of moments before smashing her lips together and bringing her glass to her mouth like a mute button. As if you didn’t feel seen enough.

“Find any other questions, Uki-senpai?” Aia’s nose is buried in her phone, and God, you could kiss her for changing the subject. As much as she poked fun about you about Ike, she was still a total angel and a ride-or-die all at once.

“Oh, I have questions,” Uki says. Luckily, he’s graceful enough to leave it at that. “Twitter wants to know first impressions for everyone that hasn’t off-collabed before.”

Ren speaks. “I think the only person I’ve done an off-collab with before is Nina, so is it cool if I go first?”

Aia gestures for him to go on. She’s still stuck on her phone as he continues.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, but you ignore it. Then again and again and again, and when you finally check it, you understand why. When Aia, Mika and Alban first heard you spill your feelings for Ike, they made a group chat dedicated to wingmanning—or at least, that’s what they pitched it as. They tease you more than anything else, and as irritating as it gets… you have to admit, it’s nice to confide in them, and nice to know they wouldn’t hold it against you.

Anyways, Alban’s going apeshit.

Group Chat: 💙 PENANDPAPER REAL 2K4EVER 💕 (4 Members)

Aia Amare: image.png | 📌 2 |

Alban Knox: AKDHSLSJDKSHSA

Alban Knox: AASDFSDF

Alban Knox: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Alban Knox: AAAAAAAAAA

Alban Knox: HAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAA AAAAAAA KYAAAAAAAA

Alban Knox: 💕💕💕💙💕💙💕💙💙💙💕💙💕💕💙

Alban Knox: 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

Alban Knox: HOW ARE YOU GUYSS NOT LOSING YUOR MINDSA BOUT THIS

Aia Amare: I AM

Me: omfg did you seriously get a picture of us

Alban Knox: WHAT ARE YOU DOINGGGGGGG DONT CHDCK THIS GC | 👆 1 |

Me: wtf did you expect you’re spamming

Alban Knox: YOU AR ELITERALLY CUDDLNG GO FOCUS ON THAY JOT US

Me: we are not cuddling

Alban Knox: YOU ARE

Aia Amare: YOU ARE

Mika Melatika pinned a message. | 🖕 1 |

Me: mika wth you too? 😭

Mika Melatika: image.png

Me: did you srsly take a selfie with us in the background

Mika Melatika: YES this needs to be immortalized

Me: you people suck | 🥰 3 |

Alban Knox: GET THAT NOVELIST BUSSY!!!!

Aia Amare: As if you aren’t about to save that picture yourself~

Alban Knox: NOVELUSSY!!!!!!!!!

Fuck, she got you there. You cast a pointed look at the angelic maiden herself, or at least as pointed as you can be with a man you’re scared to love wrapped around you. She looks as satisfied as a cat pushing a glass off a counter.

You set your phone on ‘do not disturb’ and placed it behind you on the counter with a huff.

“Reader, honey, how about you?” Nina leans forward, half-lidded and as sultry as ever. She swirled her drink around in its glass. “It’s your first off-collab ever, right? I’d love to hear what you have to say.”

“Oh, well, um.” Your brain struggles to catch up. “First impressions, right…”

Aia slips you a thumbs up. You’re going to rip her a new one after this. Her, and Mika, and definitely Nina; this is the most subtle Nina’s ever been but you can tell she’s fishing for an answer here. You can take your friends figuring it out, embarrassing as it is, but you are not about to expose yourself to thousands of live viewers.

“It’s kind of crazy actually meeting up with everyone,” you start. “I’ve known them for so long, but all online, and being able to match the voice to the face in real life, I don’t think I can actually describe it. It’s kind of surreal, but it feels so nice to just talk to them in person. Aia, Nina and Uki were the first people I met up with, and man, those three are a sight. I know everyone says it, but Uki is absolutely the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Nina and Aia are really pretty, too. Hey, Aiadmirers, did you know when your oshi laughs, she looks just as cute as she sounds?”

Aia yells. “Reader, shut up!”

“Then stop being so cute all the time, you dork!”

“I’m not a dork! I’m cool!”

You resume, satisfied with your revenge. “Mika and Vox are both really chill. They’re kind of quiet, so if you’re just walking by, you’d think they’re two normal people just going about their days. But whenever we talk it’s always something insane. Vox sounds like a dignified gentleman and Mika is kind of like that cool girl that you want to be friends with, but if you actually pay attention, Mika’s showing Vox a picture of her insides during surgery while he’s reciting something about the Bite of ‘87. And Ren is probably one of the most straightforward people you’ll ever see. He’s so optimistic, and really expressive, too, even though most of the expressions are all different types of smiles.”

“What’s your impression of Ike?” Nina asks.

What does she expect you to say to that one, that screens can’t capture how the sun glitters through his glassy green eyes? Hearing him say your name in-person sends shockwaves through your body? How you want to kiss every little freckle he’s never mentioned before and keeps hidden under long sleeves, even though it’s the beautiful skin he lives in daily?

“Same old Ike. He’s exactly like how I expected,” you say. A total fib.

She cocks her head. “Really? Even after all the time you’ve spent together?”

“I’m trying to hang out with everyone.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

Cornered. Nina takes a long, slow drink from her glass as you scramble for a quick answer that won’t immediately out you. “Whenever I talk to Ike, he’s really emotive. You can tell what he’s thinking before he says anything. He also has a good sense of style, so he’s fun to go shopping with, and honestly, fun to do anything with. He’s someone you can always have a good time with, and always makes you feel so comfortable around him. Ike’s magnetic.”

Mika muffles a coo behind you. You’re going to kill her if you survive this stream.

“That’s very sweet, Reader,” Nina replies. “Hear that, Ike?”

“Yes, I did.” He sounds strained.

“Got any feelings about it?”

“Yes? I mean—er, thanks?” You feel Ike’s head rustle. “I, umm. What am I supposed to say about that?”

“I don’t know. I just think that about you, that’s all…”

“Aww, cute. I love that you love each other,” Nina muses.

Ike spits out, “It’s not like that!” Just as you admit, “Yeah, I guess so.”

You process his words too late, though, and even as you sputter the ukulele music cuts out just in time with Nina and Mika’s unfiltered fangirl squeals. Ren’s palms mute the chord as his eyes go wide. Aia is already on her phone with her jaw to the floor and Uki throws a look at Nina while he mouths, did that just happen?

“I-I mean!” Your throat goes dry and Ike lurches away from you when Vox gleefully shakes Nina like a rag doll. “I—wh—Ike, I mean, of course I love you—“ Mika screams again— “As a friend!”

When you turn to face Ike, he’s curled up into a ball on the barstool with his shirt collar over his face. Even as you feel the blood rush to your face, you keep shouting. That’s all you have left. You’re live. “Like, we’re best friends on and off stream and I love you!”

He mutters something, but you can’t tell what. Only his neck and the tips of his ears poke out from his shirt. Were they always that red?

You repeat yourself. “I said, we’re best friends and I love you, so much!”

“And I said, I know, thank you, I love you too, Reader!” Ike jerks out to face you as he cries. He looks like a tomato.

Then he buries his face into his hands and squeaks like how he always does when something’s too cute to handle, or he’s got too many emotions he needs to let out. “You can’t see me, I’m too embarrassed. I’m hiding forever and I’m never coming out.”

You hope the ground swallows you up and you never have to confront this moment again.

Uki hisses under his breath and muffles Ren's ukulele. You don't know what he said, but you realize all too late that the alien prince himself was laying down the first few notes of “Fly Me To The Moon.”

While you slump and fold your arms over your face on the counter in pure embarrassment, Aia stands up and commandeers the mic. She slaps a hand over Mika’s mouth to muffle the scream. “Man, bummer that Ike-senpai is gone from us forever, but you know what else might be gone forever if you don’t get it now? The sponsor for this stream, our current limited-edition Nijisanji voice packs!”

And as much as you could kiss her yet again for changing the subject, you can’t get over how everything blew up in the last five minutes, and groan into your arms instead.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The stream passed, luckily, without a hitch after that. No one asked any questions, but it was pretty damn clear everyone in the room had an idea of what just happened, and the impending shitstorm. In fact, it was so clear that when you stalked off to your room to sulk, no one made a fuss, and when you realized ten minutes into your sulking session that you left your phone on the counter, you figured it wasn’t worth it to show your face again until after you finished your pity party.

The entire time, you laid in your bed with a pillow over your face so you could pretend like you were being absorbed into the sweet embrace of death. Overdramatic, sure, but you figured you were justified.

Without your phone, you had no way to check exactly how bad the fallout was on Twitter. The poor Pen and Paper tags were sure to be flooded with fans imagining a happy ending to that stint you’d never be able to experience yourself, like salt in the wound. Not to mention, it was a huge seven-person off-collab! It didn’t just end with the Pen and Paper fans. No, it would extend past the Bookworms and the Quilldren, and certainly to the rest of the fandoms with an oshi in this Airbnb. Maybe even the offshoot viewers who don’t regularly watch your content, but made an exception for the off-collab, or, you know, the ones who have no idea who you or Ike are but can’t get enough of the whole accidental-confession-live-on-stream thing. Forget Nina; the entire Vtuber community is never, ever, ever going to live this down.

Ike sounded so distraught, too. You wanted to kick yourself for it. Not only did you make a fool of yourself, but he got caught in the crossfire just because you didn’t catch yourself slipping. Not like he’d reciprocate anyways. He’s always been bad at taking compliments, but you keep thinking about how embarrassed he was about you loving him.

All your frustration and humiliation coursed through the darkness under your pillow, and you stew so bitterly that you don’t even dream when you fall asleep.

You just wake up groggy and exhausted, but too restless to go back to sleep. You look out the window, and the stars have barely come out to play in the early night sky.

As much as you’d hate to admit it, that impromptu nap made you tired of brooding. Besides, you can’t hide from your friends forever. Hopelessly in love or not, they’re still your friends, and even if you decided to stream during the trip, this off-collab was always about spending time with them instead of worrying over your online presence.

It takes you half an hour to hype yourself up, but eventually, you open your door and step out into the hall.

You can already hear voices further away in the Airbnb. You place one of them as Nina, and after her, a baritone that could only belong to Vox.

“…Fuck Twitter, they’re going to forget about it in two weeks or less anyways.” You overhear as you walk down the hall of rooms and closer to the living room. You’ve heard Vox passionate before, but never this serious as well. “Besides, what exactly did they say?”

A mumble. You can’t place the words, but you bristle when you recognize the voice. That’s unmistakably Ike.

“See? Again, I’m so sorry. I was out of line, and I forgot my place. I shouldn’t have interrogated them like that,” Nina says. “But you’re overthinking what they said.”

Another mumble. By now, you’re in the kitchen. You lift your phone from where you left it, and hold your fingers over the half of the screen where your notifications appear as you check the time. It’s barely 11 PM.

The kitchen and living room are connected, with plenty of seating space all around. That was why Mika’s travel laptop was still on the counter and plugged into the wall from the stream earlier, but on the other side of the wall from the kitchen, you noticed an open window and silhouettes from it. Four people sat on the shallow roof overlooking the uneven ground plenty of feet under the building. A pair of fox ears twitch at the night wind as they watched the stars grow brighter in the sky.

You look through the fridge. You’re peckish, but if you were to be honest with yourself, you’re trying to stay quiet for a reason.

There’s a huff. “Oh my god, dude. Just tell Reader already.”

You stand up a little straighter. Mika was with them? Were they talking about you?

“There’s nothing to be said, Mika!” Ike huffs back. “I’m screwed anyways. Just drop it, okay? I don’t need this getting in the way of what was supposed to be just a normal trip.”

“You can’t keep running away forever. Just act like an adult and tell them. It’s going to be fine, I swear.”

“And how exactly do you know that?”

“Well…” Mika trails off. “I can’t say. I just know, okay?”

“Uh-huh. And I know I’m screwed.” The wind rustles outside. You stay motionless. “Just two weeks. Can I please just have two weeks where I don’t have to worry about this until the trip is over.”

It’s a question, but he says it with such exasperation that no one can consider any other answers.

“Fine.” Nina relinquishes. “Have it your way. I’m just worried for you two.”

“It’s going to work out, Ike. But I’m tired.” Vox stifles a yawn. “Tomorrow is going to be better. Let it go for the night and come back to it once you’re in better shape, and just remember. It’s going to work out.”

“Thanks, Vox.”

“Now get in here.”

You hear shuffling fabric before the two men start yelling. Vox cackles while Ike cries through gritted teeth. “Dang it, Vox, I’m going to shove you off this roof!”

“Get ruffled, idiot! That’s your fault for trusting me!”

“I just wanted a hug!”

You snicker under your breath. Vox loves to ruffle Ike’s hair despite the latter’s protests, though he tends to accept it instead of shove him off like anyone else that would dare. Besides, as dreary as Ike sounded during that conversation, he nearly sounded like his old self as Vox and the others laughed.

“I think I’ll go too. Mommy needs her beauty sleep.”

“Mm, I’m still pretty awake. Wanna keep looking at the sky with me, Ike?”

“Sure. Here, Nina, let me move out of the way…”

Shuffling turns to footsteps, and brings you back to reality. You busy yourself looking through the paltry groceries.

The sound of footsteps gets louder and louder, until they become a hollow click on the hardwood floor. Nina crawls through the window, but stops in her tracks with a startled noise.

You turn around and nod as casually as possible. “Oh, hey, Nina.”

Vox is also halfway through the window, and his eyes go comically wide as he forgets how to move. “Oh. Hey. Reader. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Yeah! Um!” Nina coughs long enough to make you uncomfortable. “What are you doing here?”

“Took a nap. Got hungry.” It’s not a lie. You grope around in the fridge and breathe a sigh of relief when you see a stick of string cheese in your hands. “You guys just hanging out?”

Nina nods. “Yeah, we were on the roof. It’s getting late, though. You should get some rest for tomorrow—“

Vox elbows her. “But not after looking at the sky for a little bit. It’s beautiful. Very clear. Romantic, even. The architects did a wonderful job placing this house right at the perfect angle to watch the stars rise. Did I mention it was romantic?”

You act natural and take a big bite out of the string cheese. “Once or twice. Is it the seniors’ bedtime?”

“You got me,” Vox says.

“I love going to sleep early and giving my kids private time before bed to reflect and hold deep conversations with one another about their feelings,” Nina says. “And also nighttime face masks.”

“Woo, skincare, what she said.”

“Hey, by the way, Reader, honey, did you hear anything we talked about?”

“No,” you lie.

“Cool,” Vox says. You eat the rest of the string cheese in one bite. “Good for you. And goodnight, Reader.” He dusts himself off before casting his golden gaze down at you. “Be nice, will you?”

Shivers go down your back. You have a feeling he’s referring to something unspoken. “I will.”

“That’s my sweet thing,” he purrs. “Anyways, I’m going the fuck to beddy bye. Honk shoo, Reader, don’t stay up too late.”

Vox struts off with dark hair flowing behind him and the scent of his aftershave in the air. He leaves you to stand awkwardly next to Nina.

Suddenly, she takes you by your shoulders and forces you in front of her. You blurt out an unflattering startled noise before she gets right up in your face and stares dead into your eyes.

“Please be good,” she says darkly. Was that a threat? “Please be so, so good to my baby.”

“I will,” you say, more out of fear than anything else.

She blinks once, then she’s back to the doting mother you know and love. She squeezes your shoulders. “Thank you, honey! Sweet dreams!”

And just like the Voice Demon before her, Nina bounds off to her room.

Huh. That was weird. Nonetheless, you’re alone in the living room, and you can see the outline of Ike and Mika sitting on the roof in silence.

You lightly knock on the side of the window. They both perk up at the sound. “Cool if I join you?”

Mika responds quickly. “Sure! Watch your step, Reader. The roof isn’t that steep but it would be awkward if you ate shit.”

“Agreed.” You step onto the tiling, and shift your body to match the angle. You feel like a newborn deer learning to walk. Luckily, Nina and Vox leaving meant that there was more than enough space for you right next to the window.

Ike sits between you and Mika. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…”

‘Pretty’ is putting it mildly. The stars are so clear tonight, and scatter across the sky like sequins. The Airbnb was located further away from the heart of the city, so the darkness only amplified how bright the stars shone against the stark night. A breeze drags through the air and fallen leaves rustle between the grass.

“This is so nice.” Comfort settles into you like the breeze in your hair. “I love it.”

Ike sighs. “Right? It’s so peaceful.”

“And there’s so many more stars out here than there are in the city.”

“It makes you want to just zone out and cool down.”

“Yeah, totally.” Mika coughs. “Huh! Cool! Well, I’m tired now. Just keep staying out here and enjoy the sky, I’m going to bed. Enjoy yourselves.”

Mika inelegantly shuffles around your bodies and slips back inside before either of you can properly tell her goodnight.

Ike cocks his head as he watches her stumble through the window. “She just said she would stay out…”

“Hm?”

“Ah, nothing. Just thinking to myself.”

With the extra space, Ike leans back and lays along the roof. The stars cast a dreamy glow over his soft smile as he continues. “It really is something that just makes you want to have a deep conversation, or just think, you know?”

You hum in agreement. You get what he means, but there’s only one topic you can imagine having a deep conversation about right now, and it’s the very one you brooded over earlier that day.

But Ike is Ike. He’s rational and calm and kind, and laughs at your stupid jokes, and texts you first before any of your other mutual friends. The night turns the tips of his hair bluer than usual, and the stars remind you of the freckles hidden along his creamy skin. His glasses reflect the galaxy above.

Even though today’s stream was embarrassing, you know Ike trusts you enough to tell you if you’ve ever crossed a boundary. After all, it’s commonplace to discuss limits on and off stream as soon as possible, and your friendship was so strong that you’ve both opened up to one another. He’d let you know if the whole cuddling thing was too much. Besides, he didn’t resist. He even rested his head on yours. That has to account for something, right?

You snap out of your thoughts when you feel a gentle tug on the sleeve of your hoodie. It’s Ike. He asks, “Lay down with me?”

A wave of fondness washes over you like the tide. He’s cute when he’s earnest like this. You get as comfortable as you can on the tiling, and when you still, you hear something shift before your hand grows warm. Ike scooted closer to you, and placed his pinky finger over yours.

This is bliss. A beautiful sight with a beautiful boy next to you. Your best friend.

“I do love you,” you say.

It just feels right to say.

Ike is silent. He doesn’t make a single sound as you stare up at the stars and the blackened sky. The breeze rocks a tree, and as the leaves part, you see the moon for the first time: one thin, waning crescent that blends into the darkness.

Ike’s head is turned away from you. You can’t tell what he’s thinking at all.

“…I don’t know what you mean,” he admits. “You do? As a friend?”

“We’ve always been friends.”

“Just that?”

“I don’t know what you’re asking me, Ike.”

“N-never mind. I’m sorry, am I making it weird?”

“No, you could never make it weird.” The colors of the view gloss together. You feel like a balloon slowly deflating. “Feels like that’s all I’m doing lately, though.”

Neither of you say anything.

This was a bad idea.

You swear the rustling leaves mock you.

“Wait.” Ike practically snatches your hand up. “Wait, Reader, are you saying you like me?”

“Yeah. I’m saying that I love you.”

Ike stares at you, and if you had to choose just one word to describe his expression, it’s stricken. His mouth is slightly parted, and his shocked eyes drive holes through your skin, leaving you exposed. The brief stutter that escapes him sounds like it was dredged out from frozen, murky waters. “I—”

He drops your hand and turns away.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, barely audible. “This is… this is a lot.”

“I’m sorry too, this was a stupid idea. What was I thinking?” You get on your feet, but the slope makes what could’ve been a fluid motion into a stumbling, slow rise, as if your legs weren’t jelly enough already. You inch to the window mortified. “I think I should go. Sorry to bother you.”

You don’t dare to glance at him before you step back inside, not even when he calls your name halfway through the window.

Once you’re back in the living room, you cover your face, then drag your hands through your hair. You can’t even begin to describe how exhausted you feel. This is heartbreak, isn’t it?

You blink furiously, and the outline of a figure by the fridge comes into view.

“Reader?” Mika asks. She has a stick of string cheese in her hand, but walks to you. “Reader, what happened—”

You take her empty hand and pace to your room. You open the door. “Are you okay?”

The second it shuts, your breath hitches. Mika doesn’t hesitate to take you in her arms. She holds you as the first tear falls, and you begin to cry.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You wake up the next day sprawled in your bed, even though the blankets are tucked comfortably around you. On the floor is a pillow and another pile of blankets, and when you recognize the dark hair tied into a loose ponytail, the memories of last night come rushing back.

What an awful night. Awful decisions all day, really, and all of them ones you made. You really don’t know what you were thinking. You groan at the memory.

“Reader?” Mika perks up. Her phone is in her hands, but she sits up level to your face on the floor. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

Another groan.

“Yeah, I figured,” she says. “Nina, Vox and Ike went out to do their own thing, and I think Ren and Uki are cafe-hopping. It’s just you, me and Aia in the house right now.”

You rub the sleepy out of your eyes. “That’s cool, I guess.” You cast a downward glance to Mika’s makeshift bed on the floor. “Sorry for being a nuisance.”

“You’re not a nuisance, Reader, don’t say that.” She nudges you. “We’re friends. It’s what friends do. Speaking of, do you want Aia to come by? And Alban’s online, so I can call him, too. If you want.”

“It’d be nice…”

Less than ten minutes pass before Aia shows up at your door with breakfast sandwiches and orange juice. All three of you sit on the blanketed floor while Mika voice calls Alban on her phone. A pot of coffee brews over speakerphone as you recount last night.

“...And to make things worse, we just streamed yesterday,” you explain. “God, I should check Twitter. There’s got to be a million people with eyes on our ship tag, and ugh, I hate thinking about how many weirdos are going to push a ship that can’t work out IRL.”

“I can check it for you,” Aia offers. You hand her your phone. “You remember your Twitter password?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. Sorry in advance.” She deletes the app off your home screen.

You begin to protest, but she turns off the phone and sets it aside, out of your reach. “You’re off the clock, Reader! Work troubles can wait until you’re back online, and that includes doomscrolling. You can redownload it when you’re in a better headspace.”

“I really hate admitting you’re right.”

“Shit, Reader,” Alban finally says. “He seriously dropped the ball. I’m sorry.”

“I know. I really thought he would get it, but it took him so long to piece it together, like he never thought about us like that before. I should’ve known it was just me. I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, you’re hurt,” Mika says. “It’s understandable, but that still doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“Is it wrong that I feel like I deserve it? I mean, I knew day one that this wouldn’t work out. We work together online, and we have fans that ship us with each other and the rest of this company, for fuck’s sake. Getting heartbroken was inevitable and I still went for it. Either I’m a glutton for pain or I’m just plain clueless.”

Alban’s voice is distant from the phone as he messes with his coffee maker. You can’t properly hear him under his breath and over the pot, but if you could, you could’ve heard him mumble, Trust me, you’re not the only clueless one here.

But he returns back at the phone, and you’re totally oblivious. “You can’t choose who you fall for,” he says. “It was really that bad?”

“It took him like a minute to realize I was confessing. And then when he realized it, he apologized to me.”

Aia straightens. “Did he say no?”

“Not really, but why would he apologize if he reciprocated?”

Aia exchanges a look with Mika. Alban grumbles. “No fucking way.”

“Tell me exactly how he reacted,” Aia instructs. She plowed through her sandwich during the conversation, but she left the remaining half on her plate forgotten as she laced her fingers together and leaned forward like a calculated boss.

“It was like he couldn’t comprehend what I was saying at first. He asked if I meant it as friends, until he asked me if I liked him. And when I told him I loved him in response, he was so shocked that he let go of my hand, so I left.”

“No fucking way,” Alban repeats, and groans as he drawls out his words. You can practically hear him drag his hands over his face. “No fucking way. Ikeeeee. He seriously dropped the ball.”

“I know. I can’t believe it.”

Aia takes both of your hands in her own. “Reader, I’m not even saying this to hurt you, but this is the clumsiest confession I’ve ever heard of.”

You squint. “Right, that makes me feel so much better.”

“I’m really not! You know what this sounds like? Miscommunication,” she declares. “You didn’t get a solid yes or no. So now it’s going to be awkward between you two until you get an actual answer to the confession, or at least some kind of resolution. You wanna know what I think? It sounds like he didn’t even believe what he was hearing before you left. Which, by the way, is a common response to not just confessions but other major news, so chances are you didn’t blow up your friendship as hard as you thought.”

“She has a point,” Alban says. “I believe you, Reader, but Ike isn’t the type of person to just crush other people’s feelings like that. You just woke up, right?”

“I haven’t even left my room yet. Mika says everyone else is out of the house. He’s with Vox and Nina, I think.”

“So then he hasn’t had a chance to talk to you since the confession,” he continues. “And those three are really close. I’m willing to bet they’re helping him manage it, ‘cause it sounds like he’s going through it just as confused as you are.”

You stare at the floor. Hope feels foreign, yet you can’t help but wonder. You struggle to remember the exact way Ike reacted last night, but you really can’t tell what facts were clouded over by the rejection. A rejection that possibly didn’t even happen, mind you. The confusion and regret blurs over everything like water on wet ink.

“You really think so?” You quietly ask.

Aia nods, and Alban agrees over the phone.

Mika pipes up, a glass of juice in her hands. “Here’s my take. We can theorize as much as we want, but none of us really know what Ike’s thinking about, least of all you. Especially since you didn’t actually resolve anything, and that tension is going to eat at you until you get an answer or it actually damages your friendship. You ask me, the next best thing you can do is bring it up.”

She takes a sip of her juice and leaves you to absorb her advice.

You mull it over along with the memory of last night. “He called my name as I left.”

Alban chokes on his coffee. “He called your name?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t respond.”

“Oh my God. READER!” He shouts so loud that Mika turns the volume down. “I’m going to lose it. I’m actually freaking it right now. Reader!”

“What?”

“Fuck what Mika said earlier, you are stupid!”

“Hey!”

“I’m saying this in the nicest way possible, you are so stupid. He was trying to talk to you!”

Your face goes through a handful of emotions as you sputter. “Are you serious, Alban?”

“Yes! Mika, Aia, back me up.”

Aia crinkles her nose. “I did just say it sounded like a total miscommunication.”

Meanwhile, Mika twirls a lock of red-and-black hair between her finger, distracting herself. She hesitates, trying to figure out exactly how she wants to say her piece, before she simply shakes her head and stills. “Just talk to him.”

“Which is easier said than done.” Your shoulders roll back as you stare up at the ceiling, your hands supporting you as you lean. Even with your friends’ encouragement, the memory of how hard you blew it last night still haunts you. It’s even worse than starting at ground zero; you’ve already tasted failure once, and you’re hesitant to embarrass yourself again.

That stricken look Ike gave you flashes across your sight every time you blink. What was he thinking when he stared at you like that? You can’t tell if the disgust is true or if your anxieties are getting the best of you.

The best solution to anxieties, however, is looking at the facts—or at least, what isn’t tainted by your bias. Your friends mentioned there was nothing wrong with a workplace romance, and as much as the stream made you want to cringe, no one seemed put off by it. Alban and Aia are set on getting you and Ike to talk, and so is Mika. In fact, Mika spoke with Ike as well as Vox and Nina last night before you entered, and even if you had no idea what those four were talking about, you still picked up your name and that apparently Ike had something to tell you.

Pieces start to fall into place when you consider the three around you, staging an intervention over a late breakfast. Aia always gets you in situations where you can be close to Ike and bails you out when it gets awkward, and as much as he won’t get off your back about it, Alban gave you great advice between all his teasing. Mika was nosy at first when she learned about your feelings, but now that you think about it, she’s been incredibly tactful ever since the off-collab began.

You can’t help but snicker as you connect the dots. “Is this the first time you guys actually started wingmanning for me?”

Aia purses her lips. “Hey, not the first. Remember when we made that group chat? We’ve always been your wingmen.”

“I know. But you guys are seriously helping,” you say. “Thanks. Though I do wonder, Mika…”

She perks up as you say her name. “Be real with me. Do you know more than you’re letting on?”

She flinches. Alban’s fingers snap over the phone. “Busted.”

Mika holds her hands up like a criminal caught in the act, but there’s a loose, sly smile hanging on her face. “I don’t think it’s my place to say.”

“What do you mean, it’s not your place to say?”

“I’m sorry, Reader, but I made a promise not to spill, and I’ve been doing way too much behind the scenes to break the promise like that. Just do me a favor and talk to the guy, will you? That’s the best I can tell you.” Mika rests her head in a hand, and the smirk looks even more knowing. “And if you can’t figure it out after that, then you’re definitely stupid.”

You bluster. “I’m not stupid!”

“Still remains to be seen.” Aia gently flicks your forehead. “But you do look a lot better. How are you feeling now?”

Aside from the fading pain on your forehead? You’re surprised at how much lighter you feel now that you unloaded all your worries with your friends. The rejection still stings, and you’re not exactly confident, but, well, you’re smiling. The clean, tangy taste of orange juice lingers between your tongue. Aia and Mika sitting on the pile of blankets reminds you that regardless of your love life, they’d stay by your side until the bitter end, and Alban’s voice keeps you connected with your friends no matter where in the world you are.

You snatch Aia’s half-eaten sandwich off her plate and sink your teeth into the bread. She cries out in protest. “Hey!”

“Better now.” You set the sandwich back where you found it. Even though your future with Ike looks cloudy, the smile doesn’t leave. “Don’t flick me.”

“Speaking of.” Mika picks up the phone and scrolls through her messages. “Nina just texted that she, Vox and Ike will come back in an hour or less. Reader, are you up for this?”

“What do you mean, ‘up for this?’”

“Just seeing Ike again. It was a weird night,” she says. “I stand by what I said, but if it’s going to be too much too soon, then Aia and I can cover for you until you feel better.”

“I don’t know.” That’s what gets your expression to sink from light to thoughtful. “I think I want to take your advice. I just don’t know if I’m ready to talk it out yet.”

“Still wanna hang out with us or take a moment to yourself?”

“I think I’d just go back to moping if I was alone,” you joke.

“Cool. Let me go grab some nail polish Nina gave me yesterday.” Mika rises and strides to the door. “You have a steadier hand than me. And Nina said the color suits me more than her.”

Aia’s face lights up. She happily cries ”Girls’ night!” even though it’s barely noon and Alban is decidedly not a girl, but then he croons something in a valley girl accent so strong you can’t even tell what he’s saying. Scratch that; he’s a girl by association.

When he drawls out one long “Yaaaaaas, bestie!” you can’t help but laugh. Your love life is in shambles, but at least your friendships are solid as hell. You’d give the world for these three.

Mika returns a moment later, travel-sized nail supplies in her arms and a totally unrelated topic on the mind. The sharp scent of the lacquer startles you out of your thoughts as you uncap the bottle and Mika splays her hands out, and Alban and Aia air their opinions on something entertainingly dumb.

Nina was right: this color is stunning on Mika. You paint Aia’s nails too, and halfway through her second hand, you hear the front door open, the end of an intelligible conversation, and telltale footsteps, each diverting across the house. The girls’ eyes flicker to you. You know they’re trying to read your expression, but you concentrate on how the brushstrokes pool together into one smooth coat. Your thoughts are a storm and you can’t even pick out the emotion commanding it.

So you keep joking along instead and focus on the nail polish, refusing to give the storm an opportunity to strike. Alban quips off of you, and the moment passes as Mika and Aia return to the conversation.

That is, until half an hour later when you hear a knock on the door. Mika cocks her head, a silent question, and when you nod she stands. Her nails dried when you finished Aia’s, and dot the doorknob as she cracks it open. A tiny margin of light from the hallway shines into your room, and you realize she positioned herself square in front of the threshold, shielding you from the person on the other side.

She talks evenly. “Hey, welcome back.”

“Thanks. Is Reader here?”

Your mind thunders as you register the voice. You can only see the leg of his jeans behind Mika, but you recognize Ike’s voice on the other side.

Aia shuffles by as a second shield. “Need them for something?”

“Kind of,” Ike says. “Do you mind if I talk to them?”

“I don’t know, what’s it about—“

“Aia, you can lay off him.” You call from your corner of the room. “You too, Mika.”

“Whatever you say. Just let me just grab my stuff…”

Mika grabs the nail supplies and deafens on Discord, but doesn’t even think to pick up the blankets along the ground. Instead, she glides to you and whispers under her breath. “We’re rooting for you. Send us a text if you need anything, okay?”

You nod. Aia slips past the threshold, but not without shooting you a thumbs up and mouthing ‘good luck.’ Not even a second later, your phone buzzes, and you catch Alban’s contact sending you an encouraging message in all-caps.

“See you later!” Aia chirps. “Play nice, you two.”

The scent of the lacquer follows them as they leave, and the sound of their footsteps fade in time.

Still in the doorway, Ike raises a hand to fidget with the chain along his glasses. “Do you mind if I…?”

“Oh! Come in. Sit anywhere, I don’t mind.”

You stay planted on the floor like how you were with your friends, and Ike sits next to you. You face the wall in front while he gets comfortable.

No words are exchanged as Ike maneuvers around the blankets, and eventually settles down with his back on the floor and head resting on a pillow, staring up at the ceiling. The light is off, but the blinds filter in thin beams of sunlight that cross over the room and the edge of his collar like a grid.

“Lay with me?” He asks. Then it strikes you like ringing metal; you sit next to each other in the same positions as that night on the roof.

Suddenly Ike raises his hands like static. “Not that you have to! I just figured it would be good to get comfortable and all, you know?” Ike hastily explains, then clears his throat. “I wanted to talk. About last night, I mean.”

Your chest flutters at the mention of it, but you remember all your friends’ encouragement. Here he is, the novelist of your (heartbroken) dreams, already bringing up the topic you dread to mention. You need to take this chance to face it head-on, now or never.

You glide down like the ceiling is full of stars. “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

“A lot, honestly. I don’t know how to go about it, but first of all, I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”

You cross your arms. “You said that enough last night.”

“Not like that! I mean I’m sorry I acted the way I did. I think I made every wrong choice once you said that you… that.” He shovels a hand through his hair. “I’m making it weird again. I should apologize for that, too, it’s just kind of embarrassing saying out loud that you, um, you loved me. Not that you should be embarrassed. I mean, I get it if you are, but that took a lot of guts. You should be proud of that. I admire you for that.”

“Slow down. What are you even saying?”

“What I wish I said last night. More than anything else, I’m sorry I got caught off-guard. I must’ve been so standoffish, because my idiot brain just didn’t believe what I was hearing until it was too late and the damage was already done.” Hair the color of ash and ocean falls over his face. “Honestly, I can’t believe it now.”

“I get it. Bad idea from me. Can we move on from that yet?”

“I don’t think it was a bad idea at all. I just had no idea that you liked me.”

“Give me some time and I’ll get over it, eventually. I’m not going to let it get in the way of working with you, if that’s what you’re trying to get at.”

“No, that’s not it either! I—“

Ike’s eyes squeeze shut. His voice is so quiet, you can’t discern what he’s saying. “…Actually, I’m…”

“Repeat that?”

“I’m happy. Really happy,” Ike says. His pitch rises like a balloon floating up into space, struggling to stay composed. “I’m not good at saying it, but I meant it when I said… when I said it during the stream.”

You wave a hand in the air. “It was weird timing, and I know you mean it like a friend,” you reply. “I didn’t mean to pressure you into saying it, and just being friends is fine. Even though I’m a loser that messed up just about everything.”

The hand catches in midair. Doll-like fingers weave through your grasp, and turn your touch warm as Ike turns to look at you. “Not with me. Don’t say that about yourself, okay?”

You stare at how easily he held your hand, and how his fingers cradle your heart between the palms. The corners of Ike’s eyes are narrowed, two beads of peridot stone that can see through every little line of text between your pages, but there’s gentleness under his glasses. Something uncertain and fluffy. Softened like a lamb even though he leaves you defenseless.

You don’t know what to say. Ike is beautiful and kind and handsome and thoughtful when he’s earnest like this. He’s got you stupid in the head and wrapped around his pinky finger, and doesn’t have a single clue.

Peridot sparkles. “You’re so much more than that. You don’t mess things up, Reader. I’m in love with you.”

Your mouth goes dry and your tongue is still tied. Forget speechlessness; the man took your own damn thoughts away. Your hand remains frozen in air with Ike’s. If it weren’t for the light drag of one of his fingernails along your skin, then you would have figured he took your senses as well.

But the drag ends, and the fingers unlace themselves, and chilled air fills in the gaps Ike once held close. The tips of his fingers rest at the curve of your palm for just one second more before they drift away.

The glint in his eyes dulls. His hand falls to his chest, over his heart, just as slow as he parted. The uncertainty took over, and now it’s like staring at a cloud that doesn’t know if it should rain. Ike’s gaze lowers to his heart. There’s a stretch of silence and motionlessness as he stares at where your touch once was, and you’re paralyzed where you lay.

Ike's hand curls in on itself, too loose to make a fist, and his lashes sink over his eyes. His mouth is set into a flat line, but the cheeks are dusted in pinks and reds and peppered freckles in-between, demure and shy all the while.

He turns his face away soon after that. Another break of silence, and he shuffles again, with your vision on his back as if it were a hiding place.

It startles you out of your stupor. The gridded sunlight lets you analyze what you missed. After months of thinking your feelings would never be reciprocated, Ike thought of you just the same. He’s always been in your corner, and you would go to the ends of the earth for him, and everything is in its perfect position. But his back is still turned, and the memory of last night—your confession, and his inaction—it rushes to your head.

So you reach out instead.

Maybe it’s a little selfish. You’re tired of bumbling around and concealing your true feelings, and now that everything's out in the open, you aren’t about to let go without resolution.

But Ike is your best friend, and the man you fell in love with. There was no way you’d ever let go in the first place.

You wrap your arms around his back and hug Ike.

“I think I get why you were so taken aback last night,” you whisper. Even though you’re alone with Ike, you still say it like a secret. “I can barely believe it myself.”

Your warmth is inviting, and every second that passes is another defense downed. Your head perches right above his neck and along his shoulder. It’s not your first hug with Ike at all, but there’s only been so many since you first met him in person that it still feels special, and with your bodies flush to the floor, it’s intimate. His eyes are averted and one cheek lays down on the blankets, but the tips of his ears glow scarlet under his jewelry.

“I’m glad you were patient with me. I really didn’t think I had a chance with you. You know, the long distance and the company, and you know, the standard pining fare. I’m really lucky.” A smile slips through your words. “I’ll stay with you, okay? So take all the time you need.”

Ike chuckles. Even his laughter is blushy-bashful. “I’m just so happy you feel the same, too. I don’t even know what to do with myself.”

His body curls as he lays, and your legs brush along his as you cuddle. Holding him makes it feel like he was made to fit in your arms. You sigh. “I love when you can’t contain it. It’s so cute.”

Ike squeaks at that, and unwittingly proves your point. “It feels so good to say that out loud. I mean, you’re okay with it, right?” A nod. “And you’re okay with… I don’t know. Are we still friends?”

“Of course we are, no matter what. You said you loved me first, so let me say this one?”

You have a feeling you know what’s coming next. You hug him even tighter.

“Reader, let’s go out. I don’t want this feeling to end,” he confesses, and your world turns into rose and blush. “Can we?”

Though you expected it, he still takes your breath away—until he taps you on the hand. “Come on, say something before my heart explodes!”

“Mine already did! I can’t even think straight, and—I’d love that. I really want this.”

Another squeal breaks out as Ike buries his head into a blanket, and your heart soars as he melts. He resembles a swaddled-up kitten, and the rays of sunlight line his silhouette. The fluffy blanket reminds you of an angel’s downy wings along his kitten features. You can’t even see his face between the blanket and his hair, but his squeal continues, muted through the blanket as he swoons.

Somehow that only makes you feel even more flustered. “No, don’t hide! I want to see you!”

Maybe it would’ve been better for your heart if he stayed put, because when Ike rises—with disheveled hair and glitter in his eyes the color of seaglass, and jewelry that frames his red face, and that galaxy of freckles you hold so dear and shine like stars between his blush—you feel your heart stop. Again.

“When did you start having this effect on me?” You ask, mesmerized, and before you know it you thumb over one of his rosy cheeks. “Your freckles are so beautiful.”

He sheepishly grins. “They don’t really show up online. They’re pale.”

“Never noticed them until I met you in person. I love them. I love you.”

The grin gets a little wider. One of his fingers grazes along the corner of your ear. Has his hand always been along your jawline?

Ike’s eyes are shining under the grid of sunlight. The lashes flit just a bit lower from your gaze. “Reader, can we…?”

You close your eyes.

And when Ike’s lips graze your own, you smile on instinct before you remember to kiss back.

Ike brings you near, searching for the taste of you as he continues. His touch lodges past your jawline and into your hair, and when one of the fingers grazes along your ear you’re reminded just how much you love Ike. All the yearning you hid for so long bleeds through as you sink down to his level with his head in your hand, gentle yet impassioned.

Then your face bumps against Ike’s glasses. The kiss breaks as you back away.

There’s a brief pause in the aftermath. Ike wordlessly adjusts his glasses, now knocked off-center. Despite finally getting on the same page on your relationship with Ike, you’re still as clumsy about your feelings as ever.

But the corners of your lips curve up as he inspects the lens you squished, then a barely-stifled giggle, and next thing you know, Ike’s laughing along with you, still underneath your body and with one hand in your hair while the other holds his glasses in place. He sounds as charming as he looks, and the fact that he joined you even when you chuckled out of the blue means that his mind is just as charming as well.

Not that it was breaking news. You know your best friend well, and now that you don’t need to deny your feelings any longer, you know you’ve got good taste if Ike’s under you with crinkled eyes and hearty laughter.

When you speak next, the giggles patter out between your words but the quiet delight hangs in your teeth. “Can we try that again?”

Then his lips are on yours again, and the laughter twists between the second kiss, and the third, and the fourth, all the way until you collapse on the blankets with arms around each other, staring up at the stars on the bland popcorn ceiling as adoration fills the space between you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

bonus.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Starting soon…

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The chat flickers alive as a four-pointed flower, a diamond, and a thorned heart give way to the stream and the novelist behind the stinger.

Kaidororero: welcome back ike!

Min (Ikey’s Book): 💙 IKEY IS BACK 💙

A normal broom: HI IKE

lunasmortas: 💙💙💙

viperip: ike! :_heart: :_heart: :_heart:

Sun shines through a clear day in Ike’s room onscreen, but in reality, blackout curtains block out the day outside. A sweet smile graces both Ike’s face and his model as the Quilldren welcome him home.

He greets them, and cracks open a can of soda as he quickly scans through the chat. Obviously, the off-collab is on everyone’s minds.

juuuuuuuuuus: did you have fun?

Kaidororero: offcollab POOOG

lunasmortas: SO CUTE :_heart: :heart:

Johnclone: Hope you had a good time!

zZirasthingZz: PEN AND PAPER REAL

Hm. A mod will eventually bonk that message. But then again, it’s inevitable that the ship would come up in chat.

Ike takes it in stride and ignores it like any other shipper, but his heart still skips a beat. Nonetheless, he doesn’t call any attention to it. “How about that off-collab, right? I met up with my friends! Where do I even begin?”

Ike recounts his trip from the beginning, and the Quilldren react to his stories with interest. He was one of the last to arrive, so Nina, Uki and Reader picked him up from the airport, and met up with Aia, Ren, and Mika at the Airbnb. Vox was the only one to arrive after him, hot off the heels of a flight delay, but the demon was a welcome party all his own despite his exhaustion.

“We went to karaoke once Vox got situated,” Ike explains. “Nina put that song in first so we could all let loose, and so she would have a fun voice tweet for everyone. Might as well confirm everyone that showed up, right?

“But after that, we didn’t want to stress ourselves out to perform for voice tweets instead of just having fun, so that was the only song we recorded. I wish you could’ve heard Uki and Vox’s duet, though. And while we were singing, turns out Ren packed a ukulele with him! Sometimes he would learn how to play along by ear, like a jam session. Mika knows how to play ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow’ too, so everyone joined in singing that while she played it. It was so much fun.”

Johnclone: Everyone sounded great!

sunblast99: uki’s voice >>>>>> everything else 💜💙

haabinae: :_tskr:

Festersk: WHAT I REALLY REALLY WANT 🗣🗣

A normal broom: what did you sing?

Ike leans back in his chair. He blows a lock of hair out of his sight as he tries to think. “I remember Vox sang something by George Strait, so then we all egged him on to sing ‘Country Roads.’ He only did it once I promised to queue up ‘Toxicity’ by System of a Down afterwards.”

lunasmortas: OMG 💙💙💙

gatamiizuus: ayo?

Y A M: YESSSSSSS :_tskr: :_tskr:

haabinae: I LOVE SOAD :_fanboy:

Thornmy: SO COOL 💙

“Thank you.” He says it out of obligation. If he thinks too hard about the compliments, he’ll get embarrassed. “What else was there? I think there was some Motionless in White, and Spiritbox. Oh, and My First Story. Can’t forget My First Story.”

K. K. Soda: ooooo

Alban Knox 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : what about mcr

asper ch.: METAL SCREAM?

deeboorgur: HI ALBAN

Y A M: MCR YEAAAAA :_glowstick_1: :_glowstick_2:

“I’m getting there, Alban!”

Ike takes a sip while the Quilldren greet Alban. He’s not too surprised Alban seems to know more than the other viewers. He’s close with almost everyone that went on the trip, and was super active on Discord during the off-collab. The novelist lowers his soda as the chat floods in orange hearts. He wonders how Alban learned so much as an observer. He should ask.

But that’s a question for after stream. Ike continues. “Thank Nina for that. She queued up ‘I’m Not Okay’ by My Chemical Romance, and then shoved two mics in my hands and Reader’s.”

And the chat explodes.

Kaidororero: OMGGGGGG 💙💕

Y A M: PEN AND PAPER SO CUTE :_tskr:

zZirasthingZz: PEN AND PAPER DUET

asper ch.: AYOOOO MCR

gatamiizuus: I LOVE READER

ystariya: PEN AND PAPER MY BELOVED

“It’s a really fun song! It’s almost all clean vocals, but there’s this scream in the middle. Up until then, we sang together, but then I screamed, and Reader picked up the slack and sang the parts of the verse I couldn’t. They’re amazing.”

gatamiizuus: READER SIMPS COME GET Y’ALL’S JUICE

Thornmy: THAT SOUNDS SO GOOD

lunasmortas: 💙💕💙💕

ystariya: READER KARAOKE STREAM WHEN

Kaidororero: AWWWWWWW

The model on the screen doesn’t have the same glint in Ike’s eye when he talks about you. That first day of the trip was all about getting comfortable after long travel hours, and the stories went on as the days went by. Sightseeing with Aia and shopping with Uki by day, and spending the night shooting the shit with Ren until it turns into the littlest hours of the morning.

“Vox wanted to try a bunch of different restaurants with me, but you know me, ya boi is not good with most foods. So Nina usually came along in case I couldn’t finish something. She and Vox would share my leftovers.”

Something fond crosses over Ike’s face. His eyes cloud over in fog descending over a clear-sky day. “We would always talk over food about anything. I appreciate it a lot. They really get me.” The fog stills. “And over breakfast one morning, they gave me some excellent advice over something I’ve been meaning to do.”

ver*batim: ❤️💙❤️

K. K. Soda: MILORDDDDD

nroneo: :_heart:

A normal broom: upcoming project? 👀

Johnclone: I love Nina Kosaka!

“Not a project, no. It was something I was really worried about, even when I was supposed to be taking a break with my friends,” he says. “But those two seriously helped me clear my head about it. Mika, too. Vox and Nina had a lot of nuanced advice, but Mika told it to me straight, and helped handle what I couldn’t. I’m really thankful to have them.”

His set jaw loosens. “Maybe I’ll talk about it one day.”

The model cocks to the side. Motion blurs the foggy sobriety away. With a lightness to his voice and a knowing gaze, Ike looks straight into the camera and smiles, sentimentality forgotten. The air clears. “But for now, it’s a secret~!

“Ah, now where was I? Spending time with my friends, right? Reader and I hung out often. Sometimes with others, but it ended up being the two of us more than not.”

Birds chirp outside Ike’s window in time with the hum of his PC. The backlit keyboard in front of the monitors glows the same color as the computer, a healthy blue light that tints the tips of his fingers. He usually sets it to a rainbow spectrum in his own time, but static blue is reserved for going live. It gets him in the right mindset for streaming, and makes his little apartment feel fantastical like the noble background that accompanies his model, even if it only reaches his fingertips.

He’s sure the Ike on the screen has fingertips tinged with blue just like him, an extension of the man outside the screen but without the grittier details. Smooth, pristine hands under gloves where his are callused from guitar playing. Nothing under the model’s eyes but lashes and a line of red that brings out the pink in his eyes, very much unlike the heavy bags and sunken face from an awful delay on his flight back home. No freckles, either, but even cameras rarely pick them up on video call. Nina cooed over them the first time they met, as motherly as ever, but behind closed doors Reader was utterly fascinated with them. They mentioned something about watching blush travel around his face with the smattering of freckles in-between once or twice… maybe more? Doesn’t matter when he’s never heard that before and it repeats in his head when he catches himself daydreaming. It’s one of the best things he’s ever heard.

Vtuber Model Ike’s face doesn’t heat up like how Real Ike’s certainly is now. He clears his throat. “The weather was really nice during the entire trip, so we would always get into good conversations while walking back to where we were staying. And sometimes we didn’t want to end the conversation, so we’d just keep walking past our Airbnb until our feet hurt or it got dark, whichever came first.

“Oh, here’s something funny. Uki really loves cafes, right? Usually he woke up early with Ren to go check out some cafes in the morning, way before the rest of us would even think of waking up. By the time everyone else woke up, they already finished their breakfast, and Uki would tell Reader about the ones to visit or skip. Whenever Uki recommended one, Reader always wanted to go themselves, so I went along to keep them company.”

Even as his skin returns to its original shade, the sweetness sticks to his throat like the soda he’s barely touched at all. He’s wistful. He didn’t expect to miss Reader this much; after all, his relationship with them has bloomed so much ever since you first started working together, but two weeks together (including mutual close friends) changes things. It’s only been two days since he returned home, but he feels out of rhythm with them.

He’s gotten too accustomed to them. Over the last few months, he thought he did a good job putting aside his feelings for Reader, even when Nina would tease him after every Pen and Paper collab and Vox and Mika would be right behind her, hyping him up to make a move. The fear of rejection was what motivated him to keep his close friendship with Reader without ever confessing to them.

“Reader…”

The world around him is nothing. Paused to buffer as he thinks. He can’t remember the last time he felt so happy. Just being in the same room as them makes him feel stupid, and surely he’s been acting like it. Everything he says sounds clumsy when he’s with them. After all, on that day when he owned up to the feelings he repressed for so long that he couldn’t properly react to Reader’s confession, he couldn’t say much more than how happy he was. Words fail to describe what Reader means to him, yet he’s a novelist, for crying out loud! How ironic!

“...Reader is so patient with me,” Ike says. “And they’re so considerate and dedicated. I wish I told them that earlier. It’s hard to say things out loud like this, but you only meet people like Reader once in a lifetime if you’re lucky, and even then, there’s no one quite like Reader.”

ystariya: i love reader

Kaidororero: pen and paper awwww

Y A M: PEN AND PAPER

acklmystafoot: ike is so sweet!!!

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : 💙

“Aaah!”

Ike recoils like his keyboard is flaming lava. The model on the screen leans back and freezes in place while he nearly throws himself out of his chair. “R-Reader! What are you doing here?!”

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : FKJLJJSLKFJDKS LMAOOOOOOOO

Johnclone: Hello Reader!

Y A M: OMG

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : just wanted to say hi

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : hi!

Festersk: LMAO

Ike sputters out nothing but empty air and nervous laughter. “Haha. Um. Hi! Welcome!”

Stupid! He wants to kick himself. He’s made improvement on verbalizing affection, and he’s comfortable with Reader, especially now that there aren’t any secrets left, but he’s still so unfamiliar with affection being returned that his heart is still doing kickflips in his chest.

haabinae: :_blush: :_blush: :_blush:

juuuuuuuuuus: most normal pen and paper moment

Thornmy: AWWW

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : check discord

A normal broom: Oh?

“Ah, okay! Give me a second.” Ike keeps his Discord on mute, and usually disables desktop notifications when he’s live, so he’s not surprised to open the window to unread messages and some non-urgent pings. Sure enough, Reader sent him something.

Reader: because you were talking about cafes

Reader: image.png (3) | 💙 1 |

Me: Oh I recognize these from our first date!

It’s been over a week now, but just saying he went on a date with Reader has him squeezing his legs together so his feet wouldn’t start kicking in the air.

Reader: ahh you remembered!

Me: I should’ve figured you took more pictures than the ones you showed me

Reader: dw i have more i wanted to show you

Reader: image.png (8) | 💙 1 |

Me: Seriously how are you so good at photography I don’t get it-

Me: You’re really pretty in this one!

Me: UGHHHH WHY DO I LOOK SO WEIRD | ❌ 1 | 💕 1 |

Me: I DIDN’T EVEN NOTICE YOU TAKE THIS ONE

Reader: WTH YOU’RE NOT WEIRD

Reader: YOU’RE LITERALLY SO HANDSOME WHY DO YOU T H I N K I TOOK THAT PIC

Well, great, now he’s actually kicking in his seat. Ike is inclined to disagree, but when Reader says it, it’s a super-effective attack on his poor little novelist heart.

Me: Akaslwdnja

Me: Thank you 😭

Reader: anyways i gotta go i stream in 20 min and i’ve barely eaten my food

Me: Go eat! Do you have enough water?

Reader: just refilled my bottle

Me: Good then don’t let me keep you! Have a good stream!

And before he can overthink it, in the moment—

Me: I love you!

His sights are set on his second monitor.

Reader is typing…

Reader doesn’t have to respond. Sometimes just saying it is enough.

Reader: fdsjdfkl.

Ike’s been trying to relearn that lesson ever since he realized everything he repressed was reciprocated.

Reader: i love you too, ike

Words heard across the world, one of the people he holds most dear.

His heart beats loud in his ears, but he can feel it slow, somehow. Reader is exhilarating, but there’s security in them, too. The nerves kick in until he remembers they’re just as exposed as the other, and the vulnerability generate a sense of comfort. Reader makes him feel understood like no one else in the world does, and he trusts them more than anything.

He does. He does, he does, he does, even if he only has the strength to say it one at a time. Ike is in love.

Reader: i’ll let you know when i’m done streaming, we can watch a movie together after

Me: It’s a date! | 💕 1 |

It takes him a moment to tear his gaze away from your messages.

His streaming monitor reflects his movements. The chat moves along. Blue light spreads through his fingertips, just like how he imagines Vtuber Model Ike’s hands resting on his own keyboard, an extension of the man outside the screen, proof of the fantastical.

“They sent me something.” Ike’s laughter is gentle. “I really do love them.”

The chat zooms past, as expected. Surely that would get clipped alongside the off-collab Q&A, but he can’t seem to care. He doubts the fandom would really understand how deep the connection goes, and if they do? Some things are just meant to be private.

Besides, on the day Ike and Reader get comfortable enough in their relationship to go public, he knows the Quilldren have his back, just like Reader and their Bookworms.

“Reader, if you’re still there, we need to meet up again,” Ike says. “I don’t know when, but one day.”

A flurry of messages, but only one truly matters.

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : i wouldn’t miss it for the world

The model onscreen grins. It pales in comparison to Ike himself.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊commentary ↣

✧. ┊ ⁭masterpost ✧. ┊ ⁭kofi

#ike eveland x reader #ike eveland #ike eveland fluff #ike eveland angst #luxiem #luxiem x reader #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji #4402 writes #🖋 anon #fanfic is unrealistic and i know this because clippers would NEVER use semicolons in their captions #eating string cheese wrong is symbolic. it represents eavesdropping and shitty lies that go unnoticed #i hope i never see a typo in this thing this fic is literally impossible to edit on mobile #update: there were typos. and i had to wait 3 minutes for the editor to load on my laptop before i could fix them. rip #pliskinverse

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relicsongmel · 1 month

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The dubious nature of Iris' name (and what it means)

Sister Iris Fey Hawthorne of Hazakura Temple finds herself in a rather peculiar situation for the Ace Attorney franchise in the fact that she is one of very few characters without a canonical last name. Of course, this hasn't stopped fans from assigning her one—for the purposes of tagging and categorization (or simply to distinguish her from Iris Wilson from The Great Ace Attorney series, because "Iris Ace Attorney" is no longer specific enough), every Ace Attorney fan seems to have a different answer as to what they call her, whether it be Iris Hawthorne, Iris Fey, Iris of Hazakura Temple, or simply Sister Iris. This confusion is understandable given the lack of a clear answer in canon as to what her legal last name is as well as her unusual upbringing; what with being raised in Kurain Village as a Fey, taken away by her father as a Hawthorne, and then sent to Hazakura Temple to become a nun. However, before we delve further into Iris herself, there's something a bit unusual (that I don't often see acknowledged within the fandom) that I'd like to bring up—that being, that this name drama not only affects Iris, but her twin sister Dahlia as well.

Simply put, Dahlia Hawthorne being named Dahlia Hawthorne doesn't make much sense when you think about it. Dahlia was born to Morgan Fey, the then-leader of the matriarchal line of spirit mediums of the Kurain Channeling Tradition. As such, it's safe to assume that she and her twin sister were also given this name upon their birth—so why, then, does she have her father's (or possibly her stepmother's—it's unclear) last name when we meet her in-game? Children generally do not have their last names changed when their parent remarries, so what's the deal? This strange situation makes slightly more sense when you remember that much of Trials and Tribulations builds up to the reveal that Dahlia and Iris are Morgan Fey's daughters; as such, Dahlia appearing in Chapter 1 and introducing herself as "Dahlia Fey" would be a MASSIVE spoiler for the events to come.

As for an in-universe explanation, we obviously aren't given one, but we are given a bit of insight from Dahlia (while disguised as Iris) regarding their father's perspective on leaving Kurain Village:

"He hated the place. He said it was a hick dive, and that he had no reason to stay there."

I think it's not an unreasonable stretch to say that their father wanted nothing more to do with the Fey clan after its reputation had been destroyed post-DL-6, and likely went to great efforts to separate himself (and his daughters) from anything that reminded him of it. With this in mind, who's to say he didn't have the twins' name changed? Now, obviously whether this affected Iris herself is still up for debate—it's possible she had already been sent away to Hazakura before this had all happened. But given that Dahlia implies Iris had only been sent away after their father's second marriage, I find it more likely that her name was changed beforehand. That said, it's still just a headcanon based on my personal preferences—I like the idea of Iris having the last name "Hawthorne" because I think the association with the Hawthorne effect (in which one modifies their behavior in response to being watched) fits her really well, but I don't disagree with those who choose to use other names for her because there are good arguments to be made there as well.

However. However. The intrigue behind Iris' name doesn't even end there. We hear from Sister Bikini very early in Bridge to the Turnabout that it's Hazakura Temple tradition for nuns to choose a "temple" name—meaning that even Iris' given name might not be her real one. I hesitate a bit on this idea considering her name already pairs up nicely with Dahlia’s due to the shared flower theming (and Iris having a lack of respect for acolyte tradition in that regard would give her an interesting resemblance to her mother which I REALLY like), but if it is true it creates another fascinating bit of symbolism—Iris’ first name is a lie. A facade. Which fits in with her lying about her identity to Phoenix for 8 months and her general tendency to put up a front of whoever the person she's talking to wants her to be—whether that be Dahlia's obedient co-conspirator, Bikini's sweet and good-natured daughter figure, or Godot's accomplice and the scapegoat he can use to protect Maya. And neither of the common last names given to her by fandom accurately reflect/show the full picture of who she is either. Fey is what she was born as—but that name comes with a whole host of burdens and generational trauma that she likely does her best to distance herself from considering her tendency to run away from conflict like she did with the fake kidnapping and the aftermath of Doug Swallow's murder (she’s a lot like her aunt in that regard). Hawthorne ties her to the sister she so dearly loves—but also weighs her down due to her sister’s crimes, her role in said crimes, and the family she was sent away from against her will (even if it ended up being better for her) before it tragically fell apart. Neither one truly fits—the Iris name debacle is a perfect representation of the identity crisis of her character and that is nothing short of beautiful to me.

#ace attorney #aa #pwaa #ace attorney trials and tribulations #aa3 spoilers #iris hawthorne #iris fey #iris of hazakura temple #dahlia hawthorne #morgan fey #sister bikini #phoenix wright #godot #meta #my meta #finally posting some of my iris meta here woohoo!!!!#if anyone has additional thoughts feel free to add #iris lovers PLEASE interact she is everything to me #local woman going feral over sister iris ace attorney for the 261478th time. more at 11

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phantomyre · 2 months

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Rebirth-Vincent Analysis/Breakdown 1 Vincent's connection to Sephiroth and why his penance is now justified (SPOILERS)

Bear in mind this is mostly an analysis and some of it may be obvious to some. But the purpose of this is to shed light on some of the more nuanced aspects pertaining to Vincent's character and what we might expect from him moving into part 3. I will be breaking these into parts so as to not create such lengthy posts. NOTE: It has been over 2 weeks so I will no longer be censoring content, but I will maintain the spoiler tags. --------------

For starters, Vincent’s personality has been well implemented in that some of his more nuanced traits are highlighted in Rebirth. Compared to OG’s depiction of him, he is more hostile and skeptical than before. In OG, he divulges everything from Sephiroth’s past to his own involvement with Shinra. Not so in Rebirth, however. As a matter of fact, he avoids talking about Sephiroth altogether (up until a certain side-quest), and only calls himself ‘security’ instead of telling the group he once worked for Shinra. Regarding the source of his guilt, it heavily revolves around Sephiroth without so much as a mention of Hojo. As a result, instead of Hojo being his target, Vincent’s driving motivation for joining Cloud’s company is Sephiroth, siting he has unfinished business with Sephiroth. Previously in OG, Vincent’s regret stemmed from his inability to prevent Lucrecia and Hojo from experimenting on their child, Sephiroth. Little else was given, and fans have long held the notion that Vincent had needlessly punished himself for something that was completely not his fault, criticizing his self-hatred as pure edginess and being overdramatic. However, Rebirth has shown there is yet another layer of tragedy regarding the reason for Vincent’s self-imposed punishment. And this leads to the topic of Vincent’s relationship to Sephiroth.

When the party first meet Vincent, though he initially plays the part of a security guard and interrogates them for a breach of ID security, his aggression quickly deflates when he learns that the party is after Sephiroth. It isn’t until Cloud steps into the chamber that used to contain Sephiroth’s samples that Vincent becomes extremely hostile towards the party, oddly protective of the room and whatever info on Sephiroth it may have had. Once Vincent is finally convinced to join the party for the sole purpose of meeting Sephiroth, Vincent states he has some ‘unfinished business’ with Sephiroth. The weight of this motivation becomes very heavy when Vincent finally tells the group the nature of Vincent and Sephiroth’s ‘unique bond’.

According to Vincent, he feels partially to blame for Sephiroth’s cruelty. While that isn’t completely new, Vincent goes on to say that he ‘had many opportunities to purge him from this world’, also sighting the countless people suffering as experiments in the basement. In OG, Vincent was unaware of the evils Sephiroth had committed until Cloud told him. Vincent even says ‘all this while I was sleeping’ when he joins Cloud in seeing the vision of Nibelheim burning—proving Vincent was naïve of the events. In later compilations, it’s implied that Vincent is indeed able to sense turmoil around him since he so happens to turn up whenever someone is about to die. This led fans to question how Vincent was so oblivious to one of the most devastating events in FF7’s story. In Rebirth, however, we learn Vincent was far from oblivious. This implies that Vincent was aware of Sephiroth massacring Nibelheim, the survivors becoming human-experiments, and likely Zack and Cloud’s experimentation as well. Vincent not only neglected to save Lucrecia and Sephiroth during the experimentations, but he also turned a blind eye to the plight of others, allowing Sephiroth to continue his rampage. And not just once or twice. But many times. This is a significant change to Vincent’s story and will likely play a large part in part 3 in his journey to redemption. The red cloak he wears now makes more symbolic sense as he carries the blood of innocents on his shoulders. Now… Vincent’s penance is justified.

#vincent valentine #final fantasy 7 #ff7 #final fantasy #ffvii #ff7 rebirth #ff7 rebirth spoilers #ffvii rebirth

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antianakin · 2 months

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Antianakin's Second Anti-Anakin/Pro-Jedi Fic Rec List

Same general idea as the first one, this rec list is dedicated to fics that are critical of Anakin Skywalker. That can mean anything from just emphasizing that the Jedi's philosophies are right even if it means Anakin is wrong, to killing Anakin off in the most gruesome (and probably cathartic) way possible as a consequence for his choices. Since I know there are differing levels of feelings towards Anakin in the people that follow me, I'm going to add in some new helpful terms and redefine the categories slightly. Please note that these are MY personal interpretations of the fics, not the authors' stated intentions.

Helpful terms:

Unfinished - Any fic that is marked as incomplete, or a series where the fic(s) in it are still incomplete and cannot stand alone.

Ongoing - Any series marked as incomplete, but the fics in it are marked as complete or can stand alone as they are.

Critical - The fic critiques Anakin's philosophies and choices, but allows for more sympathy towards his character and situation should the reader desire it.

Anti - The fic specifically presents Anakin in a very negative way without any sympathy for him or his choices.

Anakin/Consequences: Anakin experiences consequences for his actions, but does not die. These fics can be anywhere between "critical" to fully "anti" depending on the author's take.

Spoiler Alert, He Doesn't Make It: Anakin experiences the specific consequence of dying. These fics will likely all fall under the definition of "anti" as opposed to just "critical."

The Galaxy Deserved Better: Focus of the story is more on characters' reactions to Anakin's choices or using other characters and their relationships to critique Anakin's choices in canon. None of these fics will be "anti" Anakin probably, since the critique of Anakin is at best a catalyst for the rest of the story.

I've had people ask me how to FIND more anti-Anakin fics, so here's my tips:

Look at your favorite authors' bookmarks. If you like something someone wrote, chances are they like reading the same stuff you do.

There's always the option of looking into tags, but I've found that very few people actually use "anti" tags on fanfiction, so your best bet is to look into pro Jedi/Jedi appreciation tags as much as possible, and the ones that are truly pro Jedi are often also critical of Anakin simply by design (if he shows up at all).

A lot of these fics take things like the Tusken massacre, Order 66, and Anakin's treatment of Padme, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, and the clones very seriously. Please take that as a warning if any of those things might be triggering, and keep an eye on the tags for all of the fics included here just in case.

There is no specific order to this. I tried to group fics from one specific author together, but other than that, I didn't place anything in any specific position for a reason.

This is not an exhaustive list of good anti-Anakin fics that exist, obviously. If your fic or your favorite fic isn't on this list, please feel free to rec it yourself in the notes, leave a reply or reblog with a link. I'm happy to read more anti-Anakin fic, especially if it's very Pro-Jedi!

One final reminder: NOTHING IN THIS LIST IS ANAKIN FRIENDLY! That means it's likely not going to be friendly to Anakin specific ships either, particularly Obikin and Anidala. If that's going to bother you to read, please just skip this entire list, it's not for you.

Anakin/Consequences

Blood-born Memories by Siderea (anti, 725):

Quinlan touches Obi-Wan's robe after his "assassination" by Rako Hardeen and ends up picking up some memories and emotions from Anakin that give him some heart-breaking revelations about Anakin's true nature.

Technically this one ends just before any real consequences and so the consequences are more implied, but I love the way Quinlan reacts to the revelations he has in this fic. Quinlan is so obviously horrified by it and heartbroken on Obi-Wan's behalf, but also strong enough as a Jedi to know what he needs to do now. He's already grieving his friend, but he has to set all of that aside to deal with this now more important issue. This fic is supremely unlikely to ever get any follow-up, but thinking about how Obi-Wan would deal with this development upon coming back from his stint undercover is delightfully angsty.

Malfunctions & Mutiny by BitterChocolateStars (anti, 6k):

Obi-Wan loses on Mustafar, but Anakin takes him prisoner and proceeds to kill Palpatine and make Padme Empress. He puts Cody in charge of guarding Obi-Wan, and one day Cody's chip breaks when Anakin tortures Obi-Wan. Cody starts working on an escape plan for everyone, Jedi and clone alike.

The nice thing about fics post Order 66 from clone perspectives is that Anakin tends to be represented as an unforgivable monster and little else. Cody's priority is saving everybody he can and getting them as far away as possible, so he's not interested in trying to understand or sympathize with Anakin when it doesn't serve his purposes. One of the things I really like in this fic is the way we see Rex and Ahsoka react to the revelation of Anakin's betrayal. Ahsoka takes it a lot better than she does in canon, but we get a nice sort-of outsider perspective of Rex struggling with believing it until he doesn't have any other choice and the way this impacts his relationship with Cody.

The Temple vs Order 66 by LauraBWrites (anti, 4k):

The Temple has become semi-sentient over the years and starts preparing to protect the Jedi in the eventuality that Anakin Skywalker fails.

The Temple itself being a character is really fun, and I quite loved the way it was almost arguing with the Force about Anakin and how to handle the growing darkness in him and the galaxy. I also really appreciated that, while Padme ultimately leaves Anakin behind, her selfish choices during the war aren't swept under the rug, either. I liked that it insists that Anakin is taken care of and not just left to rot, but that whether he gets better or not remains up to him. It doesn't matter how much therapy he's given by the Jedi, he has to choose to accept the help or it won't work.

For want of a horse, the rider was lost by LacieFuyu (critical, 19k):

Anakin doesn't get left in the dark about the Rako Hardeen mission and it goes disastrously as a result. Everyone has to live with the consequences of that choice.

This one takes place within the Rako Hardeen arc, but it does deal with the revelation of the Tusken Massacre and the Anidala marriage as well. There are a lot of truths being thrown at Anakin in this particular fic by the people around him who start to discover more of what he's done and who he truly is, most of whom choose not to sugarcoat anything for him. Several of the characters choose not to forgive Anakin for what he's done, even as some of them continue to work to help him figure out how to heal and get better. There is hope left for him at the end, but the consequences for him in this feel very real and substantial, it goes far beyond Anakin just having to live with what he's done. He loses a lot of the people he cared about, he loses certain privileges and ranks, and they leave open the possibility that he might have to face a pretty serious consequence for the Tusken Massacre from the Tuskens themselves. So while it's sympathetic, it takes Anakin's choices seriously, which I appreciate. I also liked seeing some of the ways other characters were dealing with their own pain and betrayal, the ways they were taking comfort from Jedi teachings and loved ones to heal in a more healthy way.

Spoiler Alert, He Doesn't Make It

here on the edge of silence, half afraid by Siderea (anti, 4k):

Pirate/Mer AU where Fox and the Guard work on Palpatine and Anakin's ship and Fox manages to kill Palpatine, causing Anakin to throw him overboard only for Mer!Obi-Wan to save him.

I like the development of Fox and Obi-Wan's relationship in this one, from some very understandable mistrust to attraction and the beginnings of a friendship. The glimpses we get into a wider world and a rebellion of sorts and how Obi-Wan being a merman fits into the Jedi still existing and fighting alongside the clones under Palpatine are SO tantalizing. Fox's opinion of Anakin is immensely low and Obi-Wan himself is far enough along from whatever betrayal Anakin committed in this AU that he is able to criticize Anakin's behavior and obsessions with people. Anakin never actually appears in this fic, he remains a far-away obstacle to be removed, and I love that for him.

The Galaxy Deserved Better:

Ahsoka is Mace's Padawan series by SkyeBean (ongoing, anti, 442k):

The title of the series speaks for itself for the most part, but this is an AU where Mace chooses Ahsoka to be his Padawan around a year prior to AOTC and it follows the various consequences of that change both to Ahsoka herself and to the galaxy at large. The first fic goes all the way through the end of the Clone Wars, but other fics in the series continue beyond that to at least the end of ROTJ and explore the impact of the Empire on the Jedi as they struggle to survive.

I made an entire separate post strictly about this series because it basically changed my brain chemistry for the week it took me to get through everything, and I know several other people have recc'd it in various lists, but I'm putting it here again for anyone who hasn't yet seen it because it's just that good and that worth it. This fic understands how to make Ahsoka develop and mature without making her some angel or goddess of light without flaws. It is BREATHTAKINGLY pro Jedi and especially pro Mace Windu. There's some really great exploration of Ahsoka's relationship to the clones both before and after Order 66 as well a lot of delightful diversity in her relationships to other Jedi. This fic does not pull punches with regards to Anakin, Padme, and Anidala, or the consequences of their choices. If you were disappointed in how the Ahsoka show treated her reaction to Anakin and his atrocities, this fic is the OPPOSITE of that.

After the War (Part the First) by KChan88 (critical, 7k):

Instead of Obi-Wan, Mace and Yoda choose Quinlan to be the one who goes undercover during the Rako Hardeen arc. Obi-Wan, who has been in an off and on relationship with Quinlan since they were teenagers, reacts to the loss.

This is actually incredibly positive towards Anakin, but I'm leaving it in here as "critical" because pretty much any fic that has someone else reacting to the Rako Hardeen act is sort-of critical of Anakin's canon behavior by design, and the underlying issues that ultimately lead him to darkness. Obi-Wan reacts like a Jedi should, letting go when he believes Quinlan to be dead, and understanding when he has to face Quinlan after he knows it was a lie even as he is still angry at the circumstances putting Quinlan in that position in the first place (not the JEDI, just the war and the way it's forcing the Jedi to run themselves ragged and put themselves through the wringer). That anger gets acknowledged and accepted and Obi-Wan and Quinlan are shown to have an incredibly healthy relationship with each other that's incredibly sweet.

After the War (Part the Second) by KChan88 (critical, 6k):

Quinlan manages to catch up to Obi-Wan during his confrontation with Anakin during the Obi-Wan Kenobi show and the two have a reunion after things settle down on Tatooine.

Part of the same series as the above, this one lands more sympathetic towards Anakin than positive, since it's set post Order 66 and, for obvious reasons, it's pretty hard to be positive about what Anakin's done and what he's chosen to be at this point. But it's not unsympathetic, both Obi-Wan and Quinlan remember good times with Anakin, Obi-Wan has a line about having felt some kind of light in him during that last conversation they have in the show, and Quinlan makes comparisons to Anakin sounding like a scared and lonely little boy. So the critical aspect of it is relatively soft and minimal aside from the obvious references to his betrayal. Much like the fic above, I really love the way Obi-Wan and Quinlan's relationship is represented and the dynamic they have with each other.

Meet in the Middle by BilbosMom (critical, 9k):

Baby Luke and Leia are working on some Force shenanigans to try to find a way to speak to each other through a middle ground within the Force, but have trouble getting to each other on their own and end up recruiting Rex and Obi-Wan to help them.

This one is also pretty positive about Anakin in that it talks a lot about how Luke and Leia are going to save him by reminding him of how to love and things like that. I'm leaving it in here because it is also set post Order 66 and does reckon with the impact of that, especially on Rex who is finding out this betrayal for the first time, so it's hard not to end up at least a little critical just naturally. Anakin has done some particularly heinous shit and is still DOING some heinous shit. That remains true whether he can be saved in the future or not, whether he used to know how to love selflessly or not. I particularly like the structure in this one, the way it bounces back and forth between Obi-Wan's perspective with Leia and Rex's perspective with Luke. I like the way that Luke and Leia land sort-of wiser than their years due to their stronger connection to the Force but also still very much children who get impatient and annoyed with the adults around them.

scraps series by grumpyhedgehogs (critical, 9.5k):

Cody's chip fails when Obi-Wan dies on the Death Star and he goes searching for Rex and the Rebellion. He deals with his grief and guilt along the way.

Cody isn't Anakin's biggest fan, obviously, but both he and Rex acknowledge that Anakin USED to be a better person. The focus of the story is on Cody's relationship with Obi-Wan and how, even after he's died, that relationship still helps Cody move forward from his grief and find some measure of peace. I like the way Cody, Rex, and Ahsoka all connect over the different ways Obi-Wan had meant something to them and the ways he impacted their lives.

may you inherit his light by notbecauseofvictories (critical, 2.5k):

Leia reflects on her relationship to Bail Organa and the impact of his loss in the years after ROTJ.

Leia is also not Anakin Skywalker's biggest fan and dislikes that she inherited anything from him. I appreciated that Leia never forgave him in this. Even in the moment where she claims to wish he showed up, it's so she can rage at him for being the reason she ISN'T Bail Organa's daughter instead. It's a heart-wrenching story and dive into Leia's character, the ways her life at constant war have defined her as well as her experience as an adopted child who wanted nothing more than to have something physical to connect her to the family she loved and to make them proud. Mon Mothma saying Leia reminded her of Bail about made me cry.

Thank the Gods, I'm Not Alone by BitterChocolateStars (critical, 16k):

Obi-Wan and Rex from ten years post Order 66 both get sent back in time to the Clone Wars and work together to make sure it doesn't happen a second time.

Since Obi-Wan and Rex are primarily dealing with an Anakin who HASN'T betrayed the Jedi and the clones yet (depending on whether you count his marriage to Padme and his murder of the Tuskens a betrayal of the Jedi or not), they both have to figure out how to forgive this version of him that hasn't committed the crime they're angry about yet. He's the same person who DID go down that path before, but circumstances change enough to make different choices this time around. I appreciated the acknowledgment that it's okay to choose not to forgive the version of Anakin that DID make those choices, even as they recognize that it's not fair to hold this version of Anakin accountable for things he didn't do.

Gentle Welcome by Miandraden1 (critical, 1k):

Short and soft post-Rako Hardeen one shot where Obi-Wan reflects on Anakin's reaction to his stint undercover but gains comfort from the people who understand.

I love Obi-Wan discussing his worries about Anakin with Mace, it's such a nice call back to AOTC where he was more explicitly pushing back against the Council's decisions and had less faith in Anakin, whereas here he's so clearly trying to continue to have faith in Anakin's ability to grow and learn, even as he can tell Anakin's struggling. There's no lack of acknowledgment of Anakin's continued struggles, but there is a choice to continue to believe in him. I love how sweet the clones are in how they react to the Rako Hardeen deception, in some ways this is just another Tuesday for them, but Waxer explicitly leaving Obi-Wan a little gift he knows he'll like says something slightly different and it's adorable.

The Temple of Hope series by Zarz (ongoing, critical, 93k):

Obi-Wan, Anakin, and their battalions stumble across a very old Jedi Temple that reveals certain truths about both the Jedi and the clones and changes everything.

This one is also mostly about just forcing Anakin to face his own truths and fears while everybody else gets to make their way to a happy fix-it AU as a result. One of the tags on the first fic is "anakin skywalker faces consequences" but the primary consequence is just Anakin feeling bad about what he's done more than anything else. It's overall a sweet, soft, Force-sensitive Clones!AU with a lot of pro Jedi vibes to it.

"... if you remain his student" by Peppermint_Shamrock (critical, 4k):

The Wrong Jedi arc doesn't happen which leaves Ahsoka at the Temple during Order 66 and she was never going to be enough to save or stop Anakin.

To be perfectly honest at this point, this is the ending I'd have wanted for Ahsoka. It wouldn't have been able to happen in canon given she's not in ROTS, but like... this is probably one of the most impactful ways for her story to have ended (and one of the kindest, given how shitty her character has become). I love the way this fic insists that Ahsoka isn't enough, any more than Padme or Obi-Wan were, he'd have cut her down the same he did the others, no matter what he might have felt for her once or what she believed he felt for her.

Reversi by LacieFuyu (critical, 2.5k):

Anakin and Obi-Wan's roles are reversed in the Rako Hardeen arc and Anakin is startled by everyone's reactions to his deception.

This is yet another one that is critical by comparison to canon. Even Anakin himself acknowledges by the end of the fic that he's pretty sure he wouldn't be reacting this compassionately and calmly and reasonably if their positions were reversed, something we know to be true. There's also a small moment where Anakin begins to doubt his choices regarding the Tusken Massacre, but instead of actually reflecting on it, he buries the feeling all over again and chooses to learn nothing. It's very in character for Anakin.

#star wars #anti anakin #anti anakin skywalker #anakin critical #anakin skywalker critical #jedi #pro jedi #jedi culture respected #jedi appreciation #jedi culture appreciated #pro jedi council #jedi council respected #jedi council appreciated #fic #fic rec #anti anakin fic rec series

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citizensun · 7 months

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Queerness and the House of Usher (spoilers!)

See I just added these Thoughts to the tags in @quecksilvereyes 's post but now I have Feelings too

TFotHoU (or HoU, as I will refer to it here), as expected from a Mike Flannagan show, has a bunch of Queer Rep™ to talk about. HoU is, also, about remarkably evil people - amoral capitalists who'll step over anyone if it means they'll get something from it. And look! Some of them are queer! Kinky too!

That's bad queer representation... right?

The show isn't that clear when stablishing sexualities, but we see that at least three of the Usher kids - Napoleon, Camille and Victorine - have same sex SOs/assistants with curious job descriptions. Prospero's taste for orgies probably implies queerness too, but honestly I don't remember if he gets it going with any guys in the story. I honestly have no idea about Tamerlane's voyerism thingie and Frederick is the only one with a "traditional family" going on.

Unrelated, but: Leo is definitely cheating on his bf Julius. Completely dismissing about his worries for him too. And for his cat. That's objectively evil, clearly. Vic literally killed her fiancée Alessandra, though she didn't stuff her under the floorboard, which is an L when compared to Poe's original. Cam doesn't believe in true love. Perry blackmailed his sister in law. Mean. He's also got a surprisingly high kill count for the family's disappointment, but since unlike Roderick he only killed rich people, we stan. I don't belong in Kinky spaces so I haven't got a big take on Tammie, only that - well, she's completely dismissing of her husband and sees him as a prop, just like the sex worker she hires.

Huh.

See, the nature of a story called "the fall of X family" is that X family is going to be the main character. The title kinda implies that they're falling for a reason, ergo, they're despicable fucking people. And they're queer! They're very queer. Many flavors of gay. They're the main characters, and they're monsters, and they're gay.

No, that's not bad rep.

Queerness as a movement, a community and a theory is very focused on scaping a cisheteronormative society's binaries (ie man/woman, husband/wife, public/private) and creating living conditions to those who fall outside of these categories - mlms and wlws, the trans, the nbs, the aros and aces... we are all queer, strange and estranged from this weird and limited worldview. And so we create a community for ourselves. It's very focused on care and anti-stablishment. Since a cisheteronormative society tends to be very white, rich and western, it's also focuses on anti-racism, anti-capitalism, anti-imperialism. Y'all know that, this is Tumblr and we love leftist Discourse.

I also know many, many gay people irl who are not like that at all. Libertarians, anarcho-capitalists, terfs, completely apolitical people and the like. Sexuality at it's core is personal, not political, so there are gay people out there who are perfectly comfortable with their sexuality on an individual level but do not see the point of getting involved in the broader context. They're queer, but are they...?

Well—

Not to mention there's lots of asshole gays out there! Don't you have a shitty ex? Have you never been almost run over by a drunken butch who blew cigar smoke into your face? I have! Life experiences are just like that. Maybe you should touch more grass. You'll probably find a lucky gift from your neighbour's dog, who is an astrology-obsessed bisexual and also really hot but stopped making out with you at a party once she found out you're a pisces (the neighbour, not the dog).

(Granted, none of this is as bad as implanting an experimental heart contraption into the fiancée you just killed because she dared to have ethical principles and then being so consumed with grief you stab yourself in front you'd your dad but you know how it goes. We're not the 1%.)

My point is, queer people are people. We are complex. We fuck up, and sometimes there's still times to fix things and sometimes... there isn't. We're consumed by jealousy and regret and sometimes we're so locked into our own head we stop believing the rest of the world is real too. Just like any other people, because unfortunately, queerness isn't a sign of morality.

And even if queerness does mean community, kindness and acceptance, tell me... Where the hell would the Usher kids get those from? The people around them are not really peers – they're ass-istants, blowjob-giving apartments, orgy mates, heart surgery providers, hired fitness moneybags, perfect housewives. Even if the partners are all shown to care for the Ushers, there's still a distance, a power gap, that makes the relationships fundamentally wrong.

And the partners? Arguably they're the good queer rep in the show, but look – even when Julius and Alessandra are shown to be good people (or at least people with an ethical boundary), they're not the good gays, they're simply the good SO's to a family of psychos. Exactly like Bill and Morrie, who afawk are straight people.

Which leads us to HoU's parameter of morality - Auguste Dupin. He refuses to drink the Amontillado, symbol of all the Usher opulence over the years. He got screwed over by the Usher twins and by the Raven herself, but he refused to cave in (except for the informant part, admittedly). He's not a good gay guy; he is gay and he is a good man.

The fundamental difference between our show's main tragic yaoi couple isn't that Auggie is a happily out gay man (and therefore is good) while Roderick is a sad divorced hetero (and therefore is bad). Auggie is the richer man because he is a good man; he has a spouse and children and grandchildren he loves with all his heart. He has a family and a community and he has found a sort of happiness no money can buy. Roderick owns the world – but what does he really have? What do his children even have? How could they ever build communities for themselves if they were never in one? Their father made them compete for his love. He never nurtured their bonds, he just showered them with money and excess until it was too much for them to handle. Juno herself pointed out - they were never a family. The House of Usher was only that. A house. It is empty and soulless.

What is queerness without a community? How could the people who represent the relentless corporate normativity and cutthroat capitalism ever be good queer rep? How can they even be queer?

Hear me out: on the most individual, simple level, being queer is still about not fitting in. These kids are bastards. They are are PoC and women in a predominantly male and white dominated space. They're on top of the world, but they're still outsiders to their own House. How could they not be queer?

And yes, I know this discussion takes a different turn when it comes to representation in media, but it's not like Flannagan fell into a Hays Code-era flamboyant villain trope. Queerness is just there. Just like Victorine and August are both black people in (arguably) the opposite ends of the morality spectrum, there are queer characters of many kinds here. The story just happens to be about the fucked up ones.

HoU is a poignant critique of capitalism and a surprisingly funny adaptation of Poe. We'll judge it by that. It happens to be queer – more things should be.

#the fall of the house of usher #TFotHoU #victorine lafoucarde #camille l'espanaye #napoleon usher #prospero usher #tamerlane usher #roderick usher #queer theory #queerness #lgbtqia #edgar allan poe #mike Flannagan #sun o' mine

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midnightsunnyday · 4 months

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With Good Intentions (Chapter Two) ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

(Chapter One) Masterlist A03

➥pairings: MC & Everyone, MC/Everyone ➥content warnings: Not Beta Read. We Cook Our Stories Like Solomon. Fighting. Family Drama. Implied/Referenced Character Death. Alcohol. Curse Language. Reader-Insert. Gender-Neutral Pronouns. Lesson 016 Spoilers. Post-Lesson 016. ➥summary: after the events of Chapter 16, the brothers and Diavolo are forced to deal with the inevitable fallback of their actions towards MC, all while attempting to help them through their growing existential breakdown. Or... what would happen if the MC didn't "serve as a bridge" for the brothers after lesson 16? How would their relationships change? And how would the brothers navigate their emotions without the MC's help? ➥a/n: chapter two took...an exceptionally long time. 2023 was not a good year and it got me feeling down about my writing, but either way, I hope you all enjoy it. Also, this chapter is a long one (4,351 words) and from Lucifer's POV. As always, take care.

I remember some of you stating you'd like to be added to a tag list: @darkflowerav @zarakem @shabootldoo. Let me know if you'd like to removed or added.

The day of Diavolo's birth was an occasion that, when first learned, filled Lucifer with dreary contempt, the hours leading up to it hazed in an overwhelming show of Dionysian blunder that would make the Greek god himself blush from embarrassment.

Every year, Lucifer worked himself past exhaustion, ensuring that every drape, every hors-d'œuvre, hell, every tile of the grand ballroom floor sparkled the way it should. And his brothers, who labored from wall to wall, hated him for it, relegating Lucifer as nothing more than Diavolo’s “perfect little lap dog.” But none of it mattered. Their wavering respect was one thing, hopefully mended with time, yet his reputation as the prince’s right hand was another; such bonds he couldn’t risk testing.

Over time, Lucifer learned to find pleasure in routine, satisfied with how everything formed together through the sway of his hands, entirely in his element. And Diavolo, in trusting him to do so, spared no effort in praising him and his brothers after, drowning them in food, Demonus, and parting with many of his gifts.

Naturally, Lucifer questioned him. Nothing is given freely, the past carved into his very bones. But Diavolo had a way of breaching past suspicions, humbling Lucifer with a boastful laugh.

“In all my years of knowing you, not once have I ever seen you as just my right hand.” Diavolo’s gaze was thoughtful, bearing down from the parapet walk of the castle. Below them was the bailey, a frenzied glow of lights and fevered guests, their voices leveling into the night. His face brightened. “This party is more than just the celebration of my birth, but all the things that came together and made it worth celebrating.”

“Meaning?” Lucifer's voice was as layered as the notes of his Demonus; dry, probing, and hesitant. He’d not known the prince to be cruel, yet kindness is often obfuscated through the guise of good deeds.

Diavolo turned to him and laughed. “It means you’re like family to me, Lucifer. Why wouldn't I want you all to share in this moment?"

Lucifer scoffed. Diavolo hadn’t much in the way of family, doubted if he even knew what the word meant, though he had a knack for flattery, he’d give him that.

“Moreover, I see you and your brothers being here as an opportunity for greater things.” Diavolo fell silent, his eyes shut in contemplation. Lucifer stood, wondering if there was a point to all this. It was cold, his drink was nearing empty, and his brothers were doing hell knows what with the other guests.

Finally: “Now, bear with me here,” Diavolo spoke, “for it’s a bit of a work in progress, but I’ve had some ideas regarding an exchange program, one where both humans and angels could attend.”

“An exchange program?” Lucifer could've snorted at the statement. It’s not as if he's here to enjoy the scenery.

“Correct,” Diavolo continued. "My dream is to create a world where all beings can coexist. I see no reason why we all must be separate and fearful of one another. And with the foundations of RAD in place along with the newly formed student council, I find such goals achievable, wouldn’t you agree?”

“My agreement isn’t necessary,” Lucifer said flatly. “Whatever you decide, I’ll procure it with all my ability.”

“I see.” Diavolo frowned. “I believe I may've "ruined the vibe," as they say. Another time, then.”

The silence between them dragged on. It was no longer awkward; just downright uncomfortable. Diavolo shifted his legs, while Lucifer readied to excuse himself. He shouldn’t leave his brothers alone for too long, and by brothers, he meant Mammon.

“Understandably, you continue to question your place here,” Diavolo’s voice was small, barely audible above the chaos, “but one day I hope you come to see my realm as more than a punishment, but as your home.”

Lucifer sharpened his eyes. If Diavolo were lying, he could use nothing—no delaying tactics, no sweat on the brow, no hesitancies—against him. The prince armed himself with child-like honesty, and Lucifer wasn’t sure if he should be annoyed or relieved.

“Family, you say?” Lucifer stared into his drink, wishing all his problems could be willed away amongst the vivid red. The guests hadn’t called him and his brothers demons but fallen, their demonic nature yet to be proved. It would be a while before he felt comfortable here, let alone taken seriously enough to be called a lord, but…

His face settled and a wry smile lined his lips. “Are you sure you’d rather not adopt a pack of rabid circus animals?”

He supposed a little effort wouldn’t harm anything.

Diavolo’s eyes widened and suddenly Lucifer regretted everything.

“Technically, the animals would be a tamer choice,” Diavolo said with a grin. “Less fighting during my meetings, no unauthorized tours of the castle, my possessions’ would remain untouched, and hardly any challenges toward my decisions.” His eyes glimmered at what Lucifer assumed was his growing embarrassment. “Though I find the antics of your brothers quite enthralling, your company included, of course.”

Lucifer looked out and the city shined back. “Enthralling would be an understatement.”

And while he hated to admit it, the Demonus was growing on him.

And so came the restless nights, the unyielding stacks of potential applicants both regular and eldritch. Ideologies swept over chess games, the clamor for a better world, with RAD as the foundation to create it. It gave Lucifer something akin to hope, like the nights when his brothers could stand to be in one room without fighting. Diavolo began to question more within him than pledged devotion. Trust and friendship were hardly given freely, and rarely was one allowed both. Be it above Lucifer to question him on either. However…

“Did you plan for Belphegor to kill me?”

Recent revelations were…worrisome.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

[Lucifer]: Good morning. Did you rest well? Are you awake?

[Lucifer]: I’ll take the read receipt as a “yes.”

The grandfather clock that struck away from the corner of his view only confirmed what his body voiced with the ache of his joints. It was morning and Lucifer—having realized the number of tasks that needed to be done for today—felt the weight of ten thousand restless nights bearing down upon him.

As much as he lectured his brothers about proper sleeping habits, Lucifer rarely, if ever, did the same, spending the past 24 hours mending back the thousand-year pieces of cultivated nerve the only way he knew how: with work.

Over time he learned that the voices inside one’s head tend to scurry when faced with 895 pages of Devildom zoning laws and temporary land use regulation. By then he missed breakfast, lunch, and dinner, stuck on the same page for what felt like hours, his eyes dry and stinging. Twice he caught himself from falling headfirst into his desk. It was all a horribly planned distraction, yet still, he refused sleep, finding his dreams too unkind.

In them, he stood outside himself, the sole audience of a scene gone wrong. It was not unlike the underground tomb, though this time he cornered you in the library, his brothers and Diavolo nowhere in sight. A bad sign.

“I met Belphegor,” you sputtered. “And I think…I think you both should speak with one another.”

“…What did you say?” His counterpart choked on his words, face shattered with confusion. “Wait, don’t tell me…that you actually met with him? That you went to that room…and you MET Belphegor…?!

It was then Lucifer understood; he meant to kill you in that room.

“Please,” your steps were slow and retracted as if placating a beast to avoid its bite. “Lucifer, I just wanted—“

"Do you REALLY find it so amusing to poke your nose into our business at every opportunity?" His aura quaked around him, surging with a power threatening to tear its target limb from limb. "Do you really enjoy stirring up trouble that much? YOU…a mere HUMAN? YOU DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT."

Lucifer ruffled his hair with his hand, smoothing it back with quickened frustration. Barbatos erased the prior timeline, that much was certain, yet why did everything feel so much worse? It was clear he hadn’t harmed you then, so what happened afterward? More than anything, he wanted to ask--

The light of his D.D.D. blinked, and a jolt of energy hit Lucifer as he swiped at the screen to view the notification.

[Barbatos]: Good morning. The Young Master's birthday will soon be upon us.

Lucifer stared at the screen as if the words written were foreign. Not exactly who he expected. Furthermore, he was aware of Diavolo's approaching birthday just as he'd been inclined to know it for the past 5,000 or so years.

[Lucifer]: Yes, good morning. Are there any more qualms concerning the plots for the commoner's booths?

[Barbatos]: None at all. All reservations were resolved. Not likely due to your persuasive speech.

[Lucifer]: Apparently, fear is an excellent motivator for progress.

[Barbatos]: I’ll try to keep that in mind.

To learn that a being with as much power as Barbatos was content with being a mere servant unnerved Lucifer. How Diavolo managed to entice him to his side was even more perplexing. He thought back to the fall. Maybe Barbatos had been just as desperate.

[Barbatos]: Also, please excuse me for the sudden shift in tone, but I must inform you of a more serious matter.

[Barbatos]: The Young Master shows concern for the well-being of all his exchange students. While the past night's events were unfortunate, they should hold no bearing on previously established expectations.

[Barbatos]: Which is why I'm sure you understand that all parties occupying the House of Lamentation are expected to attend. I assume you've made your brothers and guest aware of that factoid.

Shit. So that's what he was leading into. Truth was he hadn't. Or rather, he couldn't. His brothers he could speak with, threaten, yet the latter not so much. Not since you bound yourself to your room. Lucifer lost count of the number of times he reached for his D.D.D. only to see his messages read, yet unanswered.

[Lucifer]: I'll have it handled.

[Barbatos]: While that doesn't sound like positive confirmation, I have faith in your capabilities.

[Barbatos]: Very well. I must go attend to my duties. Signing off, as they say.

[Lucifer]: As do I. Speak to you soon.

Lucifer rose from his chair, reaching an emotional plateau where the only options were either “get coffee” or “start fire, blame Mammon.” He chose the former, saving the latter for another day. He supposed even he had limits. Not many, but few.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

They say it’s best to tackle the hardest task first. Though maybe he should’ve had his coffee beforehand.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

No response.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“I know you’re capable of hearing me.”

“Go away.”

Lucifer inhaled. Sharply. Then released. A part of him wanted nothing more than to view the past night’s outburst as misplaced hysterics, side effects of a post-traumatic mind brought back from the brink. But a larger part of him knew that Diavolo’s goals were absolute, unmovable as his will. If the Devildom ended tomorrow, then he simply rebuild another atop the wreckage. And if a single human life was the key to seeing his goals become reality, then the prince would press forward, by any means necessary.

“I understand that you’re in pain, you have every right to be, yet please, this is important.”

Still, the answer was silence.

Demon King help me. Lucifer had ways of dealing with his brothers, a swift kick, a few threatening words, and the tug of a collar, mostly. But to stare at a door that once opened at merely his voice left him with a feeling he didn’t quite like, one that seemed more fitting of someone in a position less than him.

“You may remain trapped in your space, yet understand that at some point I will need to enter.” His voice grew softer, “Please, do not give me that choice.”

He hadn't meant for it to sound like a threat, yet intentions never mattered, only the consequences of them. It took a moment before Lucifer heard movement beyond the door, along with the hand that hesitantly, turned the knob.

You appeared draped in gloom, face sunken in a permanent frown. No part of you, from your hair to your clothes, looked ready to face the day ahead. It was clear you had no plans of leaving your room today. He was sure you were trying to kill him with your eyes.

“Let’s get this over with.” You turned, trekking back into the darkness. Bitter expression aside, for the moment, Lucifer would receive it as the confirmation it was and entered, shutting the door behind him.

“Please excuse my brashness,” Lucifer said as he looked around. If he had any discrepancies over the state of your room (and he had) he dared not state them, nor did his face show it, gracefully stepping over the minefield of personal items and trash that scattered the floor. “But you wouldn’t respond to any of my texts.”

You plopped down onto your bed, tossing a hand in the direction of the space nearest you, another bitter confirmation. He accepted.

“I thought you’d take the hint and leave me be,” you said.

“I see that you still have your characteristic boldness left in you.” Lucifer smiled. “I’m glad.”

Your lips quivered, clenching them together once you noticed him staring. He waited to hear your voice. It didn’t matter the tone. Anything was better, he thought, than this horrible stillness you both struggled through.

Granted, he’ll admit to there being one or two… minor miscalculations on his part with you, ones in which he simply overestimated the severity of a situation. Situations in which he may or may not have attempted, according to present parties, “various acts of treason, fratricide, homicide, (and if yappy angel Chihuahuas count) animal abuse.” He hadn’t cared to fully digest his actions then, waving them away as minor setbacks. Maybe the next exchange students would be less intrusive, and his brother, while healing from his wounds, less naïve.

Yet while demons simply shrugged at death, humans were not inclined to take acts of attempted murder lightly. So he apologized—more or less—wiping his hands of it. From then on, a tiny part of him hoped you understood, that this would be the last of your meddling in his family’s affairs. And perhaps, with time, he could learn to see in you what his brothers had, and maybe you, with him. It wasn’t the most unpleasant of outcomes.

“What is it you want?” You finally snapped.

Though that time was not now.

Lucifer folded his arms. “I was concerned, is all.”

“You’re lying.”

“Has your time alone given you the ability to read minds?”

“No, just the ability to read you.” You gesture toward his arms. He tightens them further.

“Then I suppose you can guess what I came here to say, seeing as you’ve read my messages.”

You sunk your head, snorting. “It’s about that fucking birthday party, isn’t it?” He could see it in your face, the part of you that hoped there was at least some form of rebuttal left against Diavolo’s word. “Lucifer?” You pleaded.

“Barbatos and I spoke this morning." He felt himself falter in your gaze. "All are required to attend.”

Disgust, the last to look at him in such a way being his very brother. In those moments, he was sure that neither of you saw a man nor a demon, but the scum rotting at the bottom of the Earth.

“You know, my Lucifer was brave enough to actually confront Diavolo,” you said smirking, though there was no humor in it. “And it was in that moment I thought maybe I finally did something right, but…”

You fell away from him, flopping heavily into the mess of sheets and pillows. “But it doesn’t matter now. You aren’t him. I don’t think you can be.”

Something painful gripped Lucifer’s throat. Confronted? Had the events of your timeline become that dire? “You continue to implicate Diavolo in your plight, yet refuse to speak further as to why.”

“Because it doesn’t matter anymore,” you cried. “Everything I did, what I went through is gone. And even if I told you everything, what would you do? Would you protect me? Demand I be sent home? Deem the program a failure?” You laughed, choking back a sob. “Like you’d ever admit to being wrong.”

“I can’t help you unless you speak to me.” He thought back to his rage-filled dreams. Your shaken form. He placed a hand upon your leg. “In the timeline before, tell me, what did I do?”

You yanked back your leg, shrugging. “The same thing you always do. What you all do. What else is new?” You then buried yourself further into your sheets. “So, can you go now, please?”

He stopped himself from saying more. He'd no right to his indignation. For once he would listen and rose to leave, resting his eyes over you one last time before heading toward your bedroom door, closing it behind him.

He was right about having his coffee first.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

“They still haven’t come out of their room yet, huh?” Leviathan asked, entering from the hall.

Be it against Lucifer to reprimand anyone for pointing out the obvious. “No, Leviathan, they haven’t come out of their room.”

Like most mornings, Lucifer and his brothers gathered in the dining room. Despite the seemingly never-ending dysfunction of their lives, it was the only thing that remained consistent about them.

Leviathan took his seat, only sparing Lucifer a half-glance from his phone. “No offense, but you kinda look...worse than usual.”

Asmodeus frowned. “And just look at those eye bags. Honestly, Lucifer, as much as you hound us for our sleeping habits you rarely follow your own.”

“Consequences of a late schedule. Now eat.” Lucifer sipped his coffee, the only thing at the table that was made by him. Satan had cooked today, so the chances of everyone developing food poisoning decreased. However, Satan had cooked today, so the chances of Lucifer specifically developing food poisoning increased.

“Belphie hasn’t woken up, either,” Beelzebub noted, meekly gazing up from his plate. When no one answered, he ripped into his pancakes with painful dejection.

“So are ya letting them stay home from RAD?” Mammon picked at his food, uninterested.

“Belphegor has missed enough days as it is, so no,” Lucifer said.

“Yeah, but who’s fault was that?” Surprisingly, such biting commentary hadn’t come from the usual twin.

Lucifer raised his brow. “Pardon?”

“Forget it,” Beelzebub mumbled.

“As for the other, well," Lucifer rubbed his temples, "I’ve allotted a sick day.”

“A sick day, huh? You know, it’s your fault for lettin’ em mouth off like that,” said Mammon, who had an obnoxious habit of eating while he talked. “That could’ve ended bad, real bad.”

“Though I hate to admit it, I agree with Mammon.” Satan turned a page of his book. The Human Psyche and You, it read. “We all failed to assist them that night. Moreover, there’s clearly some bias in your disciplinary measures. Had any one of us spoken to Lord Diavolo that way, surely we’d be hanging from more than just our waists.”

“Or locked in an attic,” Beelzebub spoke barely above a whisper, but Lucifer heard it all the same.

Lucifer glowered, his eyes gilded with magic. “Passive-aggressive remarks will get you more than just my attention, Beel. Speak fully on what it is you need to say.”

Beelzebub slumped into his chair and turned away from the table. Belphegor’s burdens were not his own, yet he carried them all the same. “I…don’t want to argue with you, Lucifer.”

“Then finish your food, in silence.”

“I still say we should bust em’ out,” said Mammon, failing to grasp the point of silence. “What’s the point of them being trapped in their room ignoring everyone? Isn’t it better to, you know, talk about it?”

“Ok, sure. Let’s go with your plan,” said Leviathan, exasperated. “Let’s go kick down their door and force them out! That’ll really make them feel better.”

“Furthermore, humans don’t just get over being killed, especially by those they trusted once,” said Satan. “Such matters are,” he rolled his shoulders, “a bit more complicated than most.”

“Even so,” Lucifer stepped in, “Diavolo’s birthday is fast approaching. Regardless of anyone's feelings, it’s mandatory that we all attend.”

Quiet. Thick enough to hear a feather drop.

“Are you…really going to make them go to that?” Mammon asked.

“I am. Is that a problem?” It wasn't a question.

Mammon spat. “You seriously askin’ that after what happened?”

“What happened lies in Belphegor’s hands and no one else. May I remind you all that Diavolo’s goal is to unite the three realms. He would do nothing to jeopardize such.”

“Glad to see you so trusting of your partner,” Satan said, twirling his fork. “I’m sure Lord Diavolo is nothing but upfront and would never hide anything from you.”

“Enough. Finish your breakfast.” Lucifer wasn’t sure how many times he’d have to repeat himself this morning.

Satan’s smile was tight. “You first.”

“He’s kind of right, though,” Leviathan trugged into the conversation. “Belphie…ruined everything.”

“Don’t say that,” Beelzebub’s voice leapt up. “I know he did something bad but…he’s still our brother.”

“Yeah, and look how well that turned out.”

“Levi!”

“Let me pose a question then.” Satan closed his book, smiling at Lucifer with cheeky defiance. “Why would Lord Diavolo, despite having a servant that can see multiple timelines and their events, send a mere human to solve a problem that could be easily distinguished with some simple deductive reasoning skills?”

“Satan,” Lucifer growled. “Enough.”

“What? I’m only stating what’s obvious. This entire situation makes no sense.”

“So you do think it’s true!” Asmodeus spoke in a jolt of validation. “That Diavolo sent them back knowing they’d be harmed.”

“Possibly.”

“I don’t think they should go to the party,” Beelzebub said, panic rising in his voice. “What if Diavolo tries something? What if they get hurt again?”

“What if Belphie hurts them again?” Leviathan challenged.

“Belphie wouldn’t do that!”

“Diavolo wouldn’t allow it,” Lucifer reminded.

“How can you be sure?” Beelzebub dug his nails into the table.

“He isn’t.” Satan had an annoying habit of reading Lucifer's thoughts. “Though that seems to be the nature of their relationship.”

“Tell him no, Lucifer,” Beelzebub yelled. “They shouldn’t have to go. It’s just not right—“

“You all will NOT continue these discussions.” Lucifer jolted from his chair, the force toppling it over with a loud thud. “Do you not realize the severity of your diatribe? What you speak of is treason!”

Lucifer bore his sight on all of them. Not again, he thought. I will not let this happen again.

“I understand that you’ve grown fond of them,” Lucifer tried to soften his voice, yet it scrapped against his throat. “You worry of their safety here, yet they are a human whose stay in this realm is limited, while you are its lords. Your duties, regardless of feelings, remain bound to it. Do NOT forget yourselves.”

No one moved, yet the room still trickled with the heat of defiance. Lucifer bent over, his face reflecting against the murky black of his coffee. He really did look terrible.

“Let’s all just calm down.” Asmodeus slowly raised his hands. “Beel, look at your plate. You haven’t even finished your 5th stack of pancakes. And Mammon, you love runny eggs. Levi…well, you haven’t eaten anything but still! And Satan worked so hard to make breakfast.” He gave Lucifer a wary smile. “Let’s just eat and prepare for the day, hm?”

Lucifer heaved forth his breaths. Control. He needed to have control. "Eat...your god damn...breakfast." For fucks sake, let that be the end of it. To spend the last five minutes of breakfast in peace was all he asked.

“Well, so much for a start to a peaceful morning,” Belphegor’s voice crept in. “Looks like I missed one of Lucifer’s famous lectures. Thankfully.”

No rest for the wicked, indeed. Lucifer gritted his teeth. “You’re late.”

“Nothing too unusual about that.” Belphegor yawned. “Man, I’m tired.” And looked around. “Why is everyone….so quiet?”

Leviathan shoved away his food and rose from his chair. “I think…I’m going to head to class.”

Asmodeus pointed at his plate. “Aren’t you going to have some breakfast?”

“Nah. I’ll grab something at the cafeteria at school.”

“Since I doubt you'll do so,” Asmodeus stood as well, “I’ll just mosey right along with you.”

“I’ll go with you.” Satan grabbed his book and tossed it in his bag.

“Me too,” Beelzebub said, spearing no glance at Belphegor.

Mammon frowned, and with a defeated tone, said, “Oh. In that case, uh…maybe I’ll head off too.”

Belphegor was a stone and his brothers rushed past like ripples of water, barely fazed. Then, as if remembering Lucifer's presence, scowled at him before stomping from the room, his hurried steps pelting the wooden floor, the brief pounding of cobblestone from the entryway, then nothing.

They were alike, him and Belphegor, and that’s what scared Lucifer most. When the youngest stood alone to confront Diavolo, beyond the burning embarrassment, Lucifer saw himself, standing before his Father. It’d been the same when he stood above the stairway, hands stained with blood, the human dead at his feet. He couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Not because he'd failed, but because of one singular thought: if not Belphegor, then him.

If not Belphegor, then it very well would’ve been him.

A laugh, small and bitter, broke the silence of the dining room. With a mournful smile, Lucifer began to gather the soiled dining wear, having come to a very late but much-needed epiphany:

He fucked up.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me fanfic #midnightsunnyday writes

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ep-the-penguin · 1 year

Text

[Child of the Endless]

└─── Headcanons──➤

[Published: Wednesday, November 23, 2022]

Pairings: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F. Reader

Word count: 3k+

Warnings: Light spoilers for the comic, a bit of a slow burn, implied child abuse/neglect (not with Morpheus), slight yandere themes/tendencies, also soft Morpheus (is that even a warning?), maybe a tiny bit of OOC Morpheus (who knows, you decide)

Notes: This is longer than I intend this to be, but I hope you like it nonetheless. Also, who else loves the idea of a darker version of Morpheus loving you platonically?

Eh? ...anyone...? Don't leave me hanging here... (༎ຶ‿༎ຶ)

Any comments, theories, and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated and very much welcomed! Especially since this was my first time writing headcanons...

I also would appreciate it if you REBLOGGED my work instead of liking them. It helps not only me but others' works to be put more in the top spots of the tags algorithm, so our works can get seen by as many people as possible. Thank you for understanding!

╔═ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ════════════╗

What it's like being Morpheus's, Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams, adopted human daughter (unwillingly, mind you)... [Part I]

╚════════════ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ═╝

⋅✦⋅ Dream isn't a being known to be friendly or open by nature, appearing cold, abrasive, and oftentimes self-obsessed. To most people and even his own subjects, he's a distant and somewhat intimidating guy, and they are right in a way. Even with his past relationships and the passion he had felt for each of them, it's so very rare for him to get attached to someone or simply show any kindness to anyone in general. Especially if we're talking about Dream before his one-hundred-year capture.

⋅✦⋅ After what became of his only son, Orpheus (and Calliope leaving their marriage because of this), he became colder and more reserved than he previously was. Of course, the pain he felt when each of his relationships had ended had hurt him, but practically losing a child (given his son was now just a head and disowned Dream as his father long ago), it's a pain that words can not even express. And because of this, Morpheus couldn't imagine seeing himself getting attached to someone ever again, let alone someone that, dare say, could bring about something he thought lost long ago…

⋅✦⋅ However, all of that drastically changes when he meets you. An ordinary human girl, of all beings.

⋅✦⋅ Your meeting with the Dream Lord could either go one of two ways. The first was that your father was working as a caretaker for Alex Burgess, and he didn't want to leave you alone with a sitter, so he decided to bring you with him to Fawney Rig in Wych Cross. There, you would hear rumors that Alex Burgess's Father captured the devil, and it resides in the basement. Sometimes you'd catch the guards carelessly talking about the supposed 'Dracula' they're being paid to watch over, intriguing you immensely. Not long after being in the mansion, you made a plan to sneak into the basement, where you were met with a pale naked man in a glass dome. His eyes were the first thing you noticed, they shined and burned like distant stars, slowly dissolving into a pale icy blue color the longer you stared at them.

⋅✦⋅ Or, after Morpheus had successfully retrieved all of his tools, he found himself sitting at Waterlow Park in North London, pondering on what his purpose was outside his function. The Lord of Dreams felt empty whilst he fed the pigeons and ducks with a loaf of fresh bread he brought with him. You were just a simple passerby, wanting to take a break from school work and the 'drama' that always occurs in your household between your parents, and that's when you randomly came across a man dressed in all-black moping. You raised a brow at the sight, curious about his sullen expression, but then saw him feeding the birds with the bread he had, which made you point out that he wasn't supposed to feed them bread, since it's bad for them. With that, you sat on the bench and began to talk to him, which earned you a weird look from him.

⋅✦⋅ You, for some reason, had immediately grabbed the Dream Lord's attention unlike any other being had before. There wasn't anything particularly special about you, just an average teenage girl. Because of this fact, it left Morpheus entirely confused, yet somewhat intrigued. Trapped inside his glass confinement, he watched with a careful gaze as you slowly approached him, looking around the place as you started to question him. Albeit you were a bit hesitant, more so confused if anything. At first, he had tried ignoring you and your questions just as he did with Roderick and his son. However, he couldn't ignore the genuine concern when you looked at him, someone who was but a stranger to you. It was the first time in his captivity that someone showed him any kind of concern for his well-being, someone who showed him kindness, even if it was small. In the park, Morpheus was less on guard now that he was free and more powerful than he was before, but instead of fully ignoring you and the questions you would ask him, he would answer vaguely, which ended up frustrating you, and to his surprise, he found your reactions quite amusing (he also found your little pouts adorable, not that he'll ever admit it, out loud anyway-).

⋅✦⋅ After your first visit to him, he found himself surprised by the gentle warm feeling slowly swelling in his chest. With imprisoned Morpheus, he was wary of you and your intentions, knowing that humans were all selfish creatures, and eventually you would ask him for something, just like his captors. But the more time you spent with him in the basement, talking to him even though he never answered, slowly softened his wariness of you. The more he thought about it, the more he understood that you being there with him was a great risk you were taking, not only for you but your father. You always set a timer on your wristwatch, and immediately leave once it went off, not before sending your goodbyes to him. With pigeon feeding Morpheus, he was curious about your random interaction with him and became more so at the thought of speaking to you again (even if you were the one doing most of the talking).

⋅✦⋅ Not before long, with each visit from you, the warmth within his chest seemed to grow bigger until he became extremely fond of you. At first, he tried to deny his care for you, then resenting you for unearthing a piece of him he had previously believed didn't exist as an Endless being (not that lasted very long. With one look at your face, that anger immediately demolishes into nothing but a distant memory). In truth, even with his previous relationships, he wasn't used to loving anything, and when he (not so) surprisingly found himself doing so, he firmly believed that he would eventually lose them in the end. Everyone that he had loved, that was supposed to love him back, had either one way or another abandoned or forsaken him, and it left him with a deep ache in his heart. However, with each visit from you, he realized this feeling, this fondness for you was the best for him. That you were the best of him, that caring for you was what made him painfully, yet so wonderfully human. Along with this, you had brought him hope, something he thought he had lost long ago. After everything he has been through, with his relationships and the tragedy that befell his son eons ago (and also his imprisonment), he never thought himself to be able to undoubtedly care for someone again, let alone a human child of all beings. You had quickly made your way into his Endless heart, without even knowing it.

⋅✦⋅ You became a constant figure in the Dream Lord's life, and he couldn't stop himself from seeing you. Not that he could in his imprisonment (nor did he ever want to). You were a very curious child, always showing how much you cared for him and his well-being, eyes shining brightly whenever you would talk to him as if his presence brought you happiness. And during this whole thing, Morpheus found himself unconsciously smiling more around you, staring at you with a soft look in his starry/icy blue gaze.

⋅✦⋅ With imprisoned Morpheus, he remained silent but would listen intently to you ramble about whatever topic you had in your mind, making subtle movements and being sure you knew he was listening to you. One particular memory was engraved in his mind where his stoic demeanor shifted and you had seen a smile gracing his lips. At first, you appeared slightly shocked, but then, your entire face lit up at the sight of his smile, however small it was. He remembered so vividly how excited you had gotten, how proud you were to achieve making him smile, and promising that you'll make him smile again, but even bigger. Morpheus wanted to see that expression on you again, the pure joy you had, and it was all because of him simply letting out a smile. When he was left alone in the basement once more, he was quite taken aback at the thought that he was the one to make you beam so brightly.

⋅✦⋅ With free Morpheus, he'd quietly listen to you talk, and would sometimes ask questions, and he couldn't help but feel pride swelling in his chest whenever your eyes would brighten up at his very simple questions. You'd become more lively, your smile widening with joy, and he noticed this particularly happened whenever the conversation was about your hobbies or the thing you found yourself enjoying recently. While you excitedly spoke, Morpheus quietly observed your expression, wondering when was the last time he had made someone this happy, had someone smile up at him with the brightest of smiles, eyes nearly glimmering with stars that were almost similar to his.

⋅✦⋅ As much as he cared for you, he was still careful to not get too attached to you. However, (surprise, surprise) that didn't end up happening. When Morpheus began to regard you as his child, seeing you as his daughter, he knew he had to quickly sever his connection with you, however great the ache in his chest hurt to just consider the idea. For he knew getting close to any human was a dangerous thing, not only for himself and his realm but for you. If he didn't, he'd have to watch you grow into the fine young woman he knew you would become, slowly growing older and older until his sister Death finally arrived and took you away to the Sunless lands. Or, the universe would see his affection for you as some sort of crime and end up punishing you, an innocent child, for his selfishness of not wanting to be alone once more. He didn't think he could live with the pain of losing another child again, having to be forced to watch you wither and die just like every other human that has ever existed before you.

⋅✦⋅ With free Morpheus, he could sever your relationship instantly, yet found himself hesitating when he was in your presence, waiting for the 'right time' to do it. Imprisoned Morpheus however didn't have that luxury. Instead, he forced himself to build up walls around his heart, for he knew the moment he was finally free, he had to immediately leave you and wanted to lessen that pain. He recognized that if he didn't do this, the pain would be too much for him to bear.

⋅✦⋅ However, all of that changed, depending on which path fate decided for you and the Dream Lord to have.

⋅✦⋅ With imprisoned Morpheus, he instantly knew there was something wrong when you entered the basement with the lack of your usual bright greeting. Not even a smile was being shown his way. You quietly took a seat in front of him like you usually did, and that's when he noticed an old book in your hands. When he glanced at you in question, he found that you were avoiding his gaze, which confused him but more so worried him, especially when you finally did meet his gaze, you looked completely lost, guilty even.

⋅✦⋅ You apologized that you didn't realize it sooner, apologized for the wrongdoings that Roderick and his son did to him, and most importantly, that you were sorry for being so blind. Morpheus sat there, completely stunned by your little speech, but more so when your tearful gaze turned into determination as you declared that you were going to get him out of there. Morpheus felt his starry eyes water, his hope of being free, of going back home to his kingdom that had once seemed so far from his reach was now so very close, and that was all because of you. And you, a child that possessed such a rare and beautiful heart didn't ask anything in return, just for him to set things right for everyone. He slowly placed his hand on the glass, watching with a tender look as you placed your smaller one on the glass, smiling up at him.

⋅✦⋅ With free Morpheus, you two were walking through the park, the Dream Lord silently cherishing his last visit with you. You then suddenly pushed him aside, causing him to stumble for a very brief second. He heard you let out a noise of pain and saw you on the ground, along with a male and his bicycle on the ground beside you. The sight of you hurt, blood seeping from your now scrap and dirty hands caused something dangerous to take hold of him. That feeling grew, even more, when he saw the man that had slammed into you with his bike reach out to help you up. If looks could kill, the mortal that dared hurt you would have been dead right where he stood. And if his glare wasn't bad enough, his voice was.

⋅✦⋅ It was so cold, so full of barely contained wrath as he commanded the man to not touch you. Not only did this leave the cyclist and the people around you frozen in place, but it also left you feeling afraid of Morpheus, being unable to recognize the man in front of you. Without another word, he quickly yet gently picked you up (bridal style) and carried you out of there. You were surprised by his actions but mostly embarrassed as you tried hiding your face in his chest, from the eyes of the people there. You asked him about it, but he didn't say anything, bringing you to a quiet area where he carefully tended to your wounds.

⋅✦⋅ Morpheus knew then and there that he couldn't leave you, your love for him was far too precious to abandon. He made a promise to himself that very day that he was going to love you for all eternity, that he would do better, for you deserved that and much, much more.

⋅✦⋅ Whenever you had to leave him, to avoid getting caught by the guards or to head back home and start on your homework (or how you would put it, to avoid your parents arguing about your whereabouts), it left him feeling immensely saddened by it. However, you would always playfully tease him, asking if he was sad, which would either have him send you a pointed look or quietly scoff, denying such a claim of being sad, even though you both knew it to be untrue. You'd reassured him that you would always come back, and you did

⋅✦⋅ Until one day after growing completely attached to you, you suddenly stopped appearing.

⋅✦⋅ At first, he thought you were late since it wasn't the first time it had happened, which you'd apologize for it. But as time continued to pass, with no sign of you coming, Morpheus began to grow worried.

⋅✦⋅ Even if you were late, you never missed a meeting with him. What could have possibly happened to cause you to miss it? But Morpheus, with the hope you gave to him, allowed himself to calm down, believing that you'll show up the next day. He knew you wouldn't just stop out of nowhere, especially if we're talking about imprisoned Morpheus. Yet that didn't stop the ache from building deep within his chest at the thought of something bad that could be happening to you.

⋅✦⋅ One day turned into two, then three, then four, and by the time he knew it, it had been a week since he last saw you. His concern grew to the point where he was nearly distracted from his duties, mind clouded by endless thoughts of you.

⋅✦⋅ With imprisoned Morpheus, he'd silently sit in his glass confinement, his thoughts always circling back to you, to your silly little rambles, your quiet and adorable laughs, your precious smiles. He was so used to being alone in the basement (alone in general, let's be honest here), sitting in the silence he had forced upon himself. However, the longer you were away, it started to become torture for him. And this can be said for free Morpheus. He'd quietly sit on the same bench you two always sat on, mindlessly watching the people there as his thoughts would go to you. Sometimes his raven Matthew popped in because Lucienne, his librarian, sent the male bird to check up on him.

⋅✦⋅ Perhaps you had simply grown bored of him, finally finding someone willing to spend time with you and listen to your conversations. Someone better, someone who wasn't him. It wouldn't be the first time. If we're talking about imprisoned Morpheus, he would feel even worse as those thoughts plagued his mind. Why would someone, let alone a human child, want to spend your time with him, someone who's trapped in a glass prison and doesn't say anything in response to you and your questions? Or maybe you have possibly changed your mind about freeing him. You didn't owe him anything, you only stumbled upon him through your own merits. That last thought alone sent him down a deep, almost dark spiral.

⋅✦⋅ Morpheus had tried finding you through your dreams (even if his powers in the basement were very weakened), yet he couldn't find you. By this point, the Dream Lord was beginning to become quite desperate to see you again, if only it was for a second. He never felt like this before in his entire existence, as if his Endless being needed you by his side for him to continue onward.

⋅✦⋅ When you were, one way or another, back in his life once more (and imprisoned Morpheus no longer in his glass confinement), there was a heavy weight lifted off his chest, as if he was allowed to finally breathe again. Upon seeing your face, nothing can ever compare to the enormous joy he felt, and at that very moment, Morpheus would make certain that you would never leave his sight again. Your unexpected absence from him for the first time since knowing each other made him understand that he simply couldn't live without you, his precious child. He couldn't bear the pain of you being far from him, where he couldn't find you or make sure that you were safe. You are far too important to the Endless.

⋅✦⋅ After that whole incident, the Dream Lord began to send his raven Matthew to watch over your waking life, sometimes even watching you through his companion's eyes (much to the raven's annoyance). When you went to sleep, Dream would personally watch over your dreams, making sure no nightmare dared to enter the beautiful dreams he carefully crafted especially for you.

⋅✦⋅ Too many times the Dream Lord found himself being affected by the thoughts of you one day leaving him as everyone he had ever loved did, disowning him as his own son had done eons ago. It all had hurt him at that time (though, he'd never admit it), but just the thought of losing you, of you hating and abandoning him, causes him a great deal of pain at just the mere thought. He couldn't possibly imagine going through that again, knowing that there would be nothing left of him…

───────────

Would anyone be down for a more detailed version of the two different meeting scenarios? Separately, of course. I think it's a pretty neat idea, considering I would have more freedom to further expand the relationship between Dream and the Reader in the different meetings, whichever fate has decided for them to have.

But what do you guys think? I would absolutely love to know!

Until next time my dear readers!

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triflesandparsnips · 1 year

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(eta 10/10/23: Having just realized that this is now a very easy to google explainer, please also see the full end-of-game roundup here: "when something is definitely not a game, but most definitely a gift" or my related #definitely not a game tag. We now return you to your regularly scheduled nonsense, currently in progress.)

So... so.

So this just dropped.

And listen. LISTEN. For people who haven't been following this Our Flag Means Death-related alternate-reality-shenanigan fest, the following will make no sense to you-- or, wait, fuck it--

A Brief History of the Javid Denkins Alternate-Reality Game

(I didn't intend "overly long essays about in-depth fandom-related shenanigans" to be my brand, but by god I'm here now and I will make us all suffer through it.)

Reality (As We Know It)

Established and verified gay pirate showrunner David Jenkins is a regular shenanigineer on twitter: retweets fanart, retweets cosplays, calls fans sluts (endearment), has ongoing fight with medieval cats.

Back in 2022, David Jenkins implied heavily that he had joined tumblr, but did not cough up his account name.

This is the sum total of real and actual events and identities.

Through the Looking Glass

Fans started looking for David Jenkins's tumblr. What fans found is the tumblr of one Javid Denkins, who appeared to be new, had a variant of Jenkins's twitter icon, and seemed to be cheekily maintaining an incognito by steadfastly asserting that he is definitely not David Jenkins.

Fans got weird about it, because that is the nature of fandom. I said something about it here, because I have Feelings about the Rules of Incognito and also about Not Being Weird About People Who Make the Content We Like. I put it as a reblog to the post, as per regular tumblring, no response requested/required because babes, if I'm going to be perceived, I want it to be organic. (ahem... FOOTNOTE 1)

I kept a cursory eye on things, because it can be Really Lonely to be a famous person who just wants to have a regular online experience, and if that's what whoever was on the other end wanted, then that's what they should get to have imo. Unlike a regular tumblr that I might reply to directly or engage with on a same-level kinda way, I let them set the rules of engagement because unless/until they came clean, they would always be Schrodinger's Showrunner to me, and therefore subject to my internal Don't Be Creepy ruleset.

My second Javid reblog was pretty much what I would do to any other newbie tumblr person (as they professed to be): adding on to a gag by referencing the "color of the sky" meme and also a seagull, for OFMD-related reasons (which fit within the ruleset, because Javid was actively connecting himself with OFMD type things). And Javid reblogged it, so hey, I was winning at tumblr interactions, a thing that is normal to want and possible to achieve.

Time passed. Javid dropped (what will be revealed to be the first of many) photo manipulations. (FOOTNOTE 2)

On the same day, Javid posted what looked like an accidental smashkey. I reblogged with a seagull, because again, established rules of engagement and me winning at tumblr interactions. He reblogged himself, though, with what looked like another smashkey, but was actually a goddamn Caesar cipher-- and started using the tag #definitely not a game.

From there, Javid started up a stream of fairly fun puzzles. I didn't keep up with it fully, but since it looked like Javid wanted people to interact, I interacted (while trying to ensure that other people could keep having fun too). He also started subtly changing his icon, his tumblr header, etc., expanding the bounds of the puzzle space, as it were. (And if you want a complete rundown of the puzzle history and the associated answers, this twitter thread is enormous and thorough, thank you @eefaevie.)

The seagull made an appearance every once in a while; I threw together various season 2 bingo cards in response to these potential spoilers; I spent my time largely keeping back so I could eat popcorn and Not Be Creepy. But... but.

The thing was, Javid's method of posting (in a "heeeere fishy fishy fishy" manner) seemed, to me, to be the actions of someone trying to play with the audience and/or provide enrichment for the enclosure. So after some thought and, again, remembering the loneliness of being a Creative Person but trying to be mindful that this person was still incognito and could be the actual dude, I started using the seagull to reblog extra content, links, whathaveyou, with the tag #enrichment can go in BOTH enclosures-- with the idea that, if Javid wanted to look, he had the option to do so-- and if he did, he'd be rewarded with, again, no demands on him or his attention, but just: some content. Some enrichment. Some fun. A "picking up what you're putting down" kind of vibe from one person to another, both of whom are, at the very least, interested in communicating with an audience.

To be clear: For me, at the end of the day, it had to be a choice. I needed to provide room for Javid to choose to enter the magic circle of my additional game play-- but I also wasn't going to hold my breath about it. This was Javid's space, with intentions and purposes I had no way of knowing (nor should I)-- I was just, metaphorically, bringing another set of dice and maybe some graph paper with an extra room drawn on it that he could easily enter if he wanted, to play in a space intended to complement his. He was putting in a shitton of labor for what was essentially just a gift; I wanted to show appreciation for that labor, while putting in some of my own to gift back.

So when the first round of puzzles ended, and a new one began, I linked the answers to one of his anagram puzzles inside some seagull gifs-- but I figured, why not add something extra? I used his pigpen cipher to dare him to use a book code next. To even see the dare he'd have to want to decode the gifs-- and if he ultimately didn't want to engage, no skin off my nose. (That's why there's a border around the magic circle with clear entrances and exits.) Either way, I was having a nice time.

The next puzzle type was a stereogram. (Neat.) The puzzle after that, though? I get tagged and informed that Javid has, in fact, posted a motherfucking book code. (FOOTNOTE 3)

Enter the Thunder Parasocial Dome

This is the point where I first have to be pulled down from the curtains by rational people who have only my best interests at heart.

(Having a whole Thesis Statement about why I was engaging with Schrodinger's Showrunner is one thing. Having possible evidence that my engagement was, like, actually engaged with is quite another.)

By sweet and loving friends and family I was reminded that:

Other people are, in fact, allowed to be clever about things too.

That all sorts of pre-planning may have gone into all this, and that therefore the timing was a coincidence.

That there are a limited number of easily accessible ciphers out there, so the code type could also be a coincidence.

And that either way I still have my important Don't Be Creepy code of ethics.

So. I took a deep breath. Cool. I was totally and absolutely cool about this.

...And in a totally normal manner I proceeded to lay an elaborate trap.

AHAHAHA JUST JOKING what I mean is: I replied to the tagged post, acknowledging that the sphere of potential puzzling had now expanded beyond tumblr. I used Javid's own fake-link trick to link to a seagull laugh. And in the tags I threw in a lot of potential internet-related alternate reality stuff.

But also, crucially... some more ideas for Javid to use. (FOOTNOTE 4) If he wanted them. If he was actually looking.

Since I was now playing In Earnest, I spent some time putting together a youtube channel, an alternate tumblr, a neocities account -- a whole new field of play, if Javid wanted to engage there. I pulled out the dusty memories of a Yuletide fic I wrote several years ago that used similar shenanigans to tell an interactive fiction story about Monty Python. (Hilariously enough, my first RPF.) I continued to play with all these new and fascinating toys.

A Strange Ship on the Horizon

What with one thing and another three years pass, a Javid puzzle eventually lead to an AO3 account-- which to me definitively opened Schrodinger's box: maybe this was a member of the production playing with fire, more likely it was a clever fan whose brain is fucking fascinating, but it most definitely was not David Jenkins.

But. Javid was still in incognito. And I still don't know if I had been perceived.

I read the fic the Javid account is writing (which is still a work in progress and pretty great ngl)-- it's a fandom AU, where Ed and Stede are fans of a gay pirate romcom called Blow the Man Down, featuring Sam Bellamy and Olivier Levasseur. The showrunner is named Javid, who doesn't have social media but gets cornered into agreeing to join twitter (rather than our universe's tumblr). And Ed decides, on a lark, to start a fake twitter account, tag it #definitelynotjaviddenkins... and then freak out because a large contingent of fandom shows up on his metaphorical doorstep saying HELLO, JAVID.

As if this weren't enough: beyond the fic itself, suddenly a whole multimedia alternate universe suddenly appeared, with multiple twitter and AO3 accounts beyond just Stede and Ed, forming an entire fucking fandom, Goncharov-style, around Blow the Man Down. It was and continues to be fucking wild. It's also amazing. And the porn is surprisingly approachable. (BUT SEE AGAIN FOOTNOTE 1)

Grappling Hooks Breaching the Parasocial Divide

The thing is, though. The thing. That is.

I have officially reached Level 2 Curtain Clawing.

As I read the fic and the accompanying universe, I started to. Notice things.

References to soap (but... but surely that's normal. Many people talk about soap, not just amateur history enthusiasts like myself).

References to obscure scents (LABDANUM. Someone referenced labda-motherfucking-num. But surely. Surely it is not an entirely unheard of thing; I am not the first person to discover it or the fact that it gets combed from goats jesus christ the goat thing I forgot about that--)

References to the drilled coin from the wreck of Sam Bellamy's ship, which appeared as a random bit of possible future lore for Javid in this bit of enrichment (but I put in lots of possible lore! I had a whole thing going about figureheads! Bad luck to kill a seabird! I had a whole thing for a while where I thought maybe the digraph code Javid was hinting at was actually a Playfair cipher! I have been wrong many times before and added lots of random possible narratives. SO SURELY THE COIN IS A COINCIDENCE).

References to... okay not really references, and I've never articulated it quite like this (though this is definitely my vibe), but references to the idea of these puzzles and enrichment being a conversation in and of themselves, held at a remove and existing entirely in call (Javid) and response (the audience).

Finally... I started to notice that Stede decodes/interprets Ed-as-Javid's puzzles in a long twitter thread (like... like the one linked above) but also... sends back puzzles. Like, well, me.

"But STILL," I screech from the top of the curtain rail. "This could ALL BE COINCIDENCE," I yowl as friends and family try to bat me down with a broom. Even, by god, today's drop... which uses a password-protected url shortener. The exact same one I used in an earlier enrichment. But! It's not like there are a lot of those! Maybe this was just the first one that cropped up for Javid, just as it was the first that cropped up for me! (BUT THEN AGAIN, MAY I REFER YOU BACK TO FOOTNOTE 4)

The fic is at chapter 14. There are, if AO3 is to be believed, 7 more chapters to go, plus who knows how much additional extra-universe material. There is so. much. here.

...And so many more opportunities to climb all the curtains.

“It's a great huge game of chess that's being played—all over the world—if this is the world at all, you know.”

So at this point... what, in fact, is happening?

I'm inside a Schrodinger's box whose sides are entirely composed of parasocial uncertainty.

Maybe Javid is here. (HELLO, JAVID.)

Maybe he isn't! (HELLO, THE MIRROR IN MY ENCLOSURE.)

Maybe I'm not actually being referenced at all, but the writer of that twitter thead, @eefaevie, is (HI EEFAEVIE WHAT'S UP HOW'S THE PARASOCIAL AIR IN YOUR ENCLOSURE DOIN')

I don't know. I can't know. Unless someone opens the box.

and my god, what if they never do?

tl;dr. This is the most enriching fun I've had in months, and if the magic circle is going to widen to include me, then friend, I intend to BRING MY A-GAME.

---

FOOTNOTES

1. During the course of that mini-essay, I say the following:

"If it's someone who is not the dude but just a tumblrite who managed to catch on really quick? Well goddamn, good for them, and also A+ Wink-Nudge acrobatics. Real dude can have a peaceful time reading critical analyses of Goncharov, Javid here can quietly start introducing strange lore and running gags and other fun-with-plausible-deniability shenanigans".

One day later Javid starts answering questions about characters with enigmatic season 2 spoilery things; a little less than ten days later, we get the first fake link (which, imo, is the real start of the game).

2. This is now only 24 days after my "strange lore and fun with plausible deniability" post.

3. My dare: January 26. Javid's book code: February 4.

4. My tags on the post wherein I acknowledge that the dare has, possibly, been taken up, read: #you know what's cool? besides how #enrichment can go in BOTH enclosures #is how much you can do with html #like sure sure we've all seen the embedded links #but I remember the days of hidden source code messages #websites with delayed redirects #passwords hidden on one site to open the locked contents of another #you know #~normal things~ #I'm certain none of this will become relevant #because this is #definitely not a game

#OH HEY also eta 10/10/23: changed 'augmented' to 'alternate' because that's a more accurate description #definitely not a game #our flag means death #enrichment can go in BOTH enclosures #the absolute wildness of narrative and alternate reality games #a brief history of #javid denkins #and probably someone needs to start spritzing me with a spray bottle or something because this is #this is a lot

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clownfire · 1 month

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I NEED SOMEONE TO TALK ABOUT THE QUEEN WITH

(I am referring to the vampire queen from just roll with it. Do Not want to lose context in the tags)

Spoilers upto episode 10 btw

1: Bathory. As in actual serial killer Elizabeth Bathory (and yes I did check the episode transcripts it IS spelt the same way).

2: Her unconditional compassion is was what got her seated at the right hand of FUCKING DRACULA. She then used that power to burn down an entire village.

We love a girlboss who contains multitudes <3

3: Everything about Luna's ritual could imply SO much about the Queen.

Firstly, she sought the tremere Luna to help her. Luna, of the Lunarchive? In all likelihood a very powerful, and influential vampire, if not the clan's primogen. That's a lot of trust to give, and makes me wonder if the two are particular close (maybe over being perceived as witches?). Second, the degree of intentionally opposes the theory/assumption that this was the result of some hook-up with a mortal that miraculously resulted in a pregnancy she decided to keep. And Shilo being born a vampire was something that went wrong with the spell. She wanted to raise mortal children. Shilo being a vampire was the thing that threw off her plans, not Emizel being born mortal. What was she planning to do before this happened? Was she going to do a Dracula and ditch the throne?

3: Why does she straight up have Lisa Tepes' backstory.

(And on that note, I don't follow the theory that Dracula is the twin's father. In fact, the magical nature could call into question if they even have a biological father)

4: Is Lazarus actually her brother, or is she doing that thing where you call your parents make you call their close friends aunt and uncle?

The former could mean a couple of interesting things. He looks a fair bit older than her, was he turned later in life? You could even see this an an early example of her consolidating power for her family.

If you've read this far, I'm assuming you're as insane about her as I am. And I'm serious, message me and I WILL send you brain-worms from my Hellish timezone.

#thank you for coming to my TedTalk #slash cry for help #im glad they went with bathory #instead of naming her after THE famous lady vamp #jrwi the suckening #jrwi ts #jrwi theory #PLEASE #she's got so much potential #can we pls get some more flash-backs im desperate #krow posts

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