#And I trust Oliver with this with my entire soul

[chaosandwolves]

I'm literally crying

Look I'm still convinced that Buck did have sex with guys cause it was just sex and he was young but

He never understood/considered that he's actually bi

This!?

This is so much the

"you realize later in life"

queer experience

And then we have this

Especially the first one got me screaming...

It's what we've talked and written about for ages and finally the confrontation with this question will come!

And this:

A sense of responsibility???

If it was about Buck's abandonment issues etc why would he feel the sense of responsibility specifically with this storyline?

You say stuff like this when you know

What an impact the storyline will have

What it will mean to people

and

When you know you have to take care telling this story

It really all sounds like we're entering the Buck bi realization arc

And if they're really doing this

If they really go there

IT MEANS THE FUCKING WORLD

Article here

[dmwrites]

“Pearllllll, I’m bored.”

Gem all but draped herself over a nearby chair in Pearl’s living room, dislodging Olive the cat as she did so.

Pearl looked up at her from her notebook. “So I see. Tragic.” She looked back down at the pahe in front of her, underlined something.

“Pearrrrllll! I’m so bored!”

“You could go play a few rounds of decked out.” Pearl suggested, flipping a page.

“I already used all my shards for the week. And two of yours.” Gem complained, face-down in the seat, legs flailing out over the arm of the chair.

“You what?” Pearl looked up at her friend again, eyes wide.

“Nothing!” Gem coughed. “I just wanna annoy someone, cause some havoc.”

“Well you’re already succeeding at that.” Pearl muttered, putting her notebook to the side and looking at the mess of limbs that was Gem.

“Ugh. Impulse isn’t even around for me to bother, he’s too busy ‘hunting ghosts’ with Skizz and Scar and Grian. Why didn’t they invite me? I wish I could, like, haunt them or something. Possess one of their bodies and scare them.”

“Possession is easy.” Pearl said offhandedly.

“What?”

“What?”

“Pearlescentmoon! Do you know how to possess people?” Gem gasped, scrambling to a normal sitting position.

“Maybe…” Pearl giggled. “Who do you wanna possess?”

“Oh my god, Scar would be so funny to possess!” Gem said.

“I think we could manage that…” Pearl grinned, holding up a vial with a few bits of dark brown hair inside.

“How did you- actually, I don’t wanna know, I don’t want to have to go to court as a witness one day.” Gem said. “So, okay, how do we do this, then?”

Pearl pulled out a small, stained book from her bookshelf. “Leave it to me. Come back tonight.”

——

Gem and Pearl were sitting on Pearl’s floor in the dark, surrounded by candles. Gem was spooked already.

Pearl checked the time. “Alright, they should be there by now. You ready, Gem?”

“You still haven’t told me what we’re gonna do to put me inside of Scar.” Gem said.

“Simple. Drink this.” Pearl held out a bottle with a dull-looking potion sloshing around inside.

“What is this?” Gem took it and swirled it, frowning.

“Well, if you asked Scar when he downed the bottle I gave him earlier, it’s an energy drink. But it’s actually an awkward potion with a lock of your hair in it.”

“What? Ew!” Gem exclaimed.

“And you have the other, the one with Scar’s hair in it. If you want to possess Scar, that’s how you do it.” Pearl pointed at the bottle. “I’ll guard your body, as I’m sure Scar will be quite frightened to be so short.”

“Wait, he’s taking over my body? I don’t want him in me!”

Pearl snorted. “Ignoring that, what do you think happens to the other soul? It just hangs out? No, silly, it’s got to have a place to go. Scar’ll be fine, trust me. So, are we doing this or not?”

Gem took a deep breath. “This is insane. I should have just gone and killed Etho again. Whatever. Cheers, you weirdo.” She raised the bottle towards Pearl, and drank the entire potion down. For a moment, she and Pearl stared at each other. Then, darkness.

——

“Scar? You okay buddy?” Gem felt a cool hand on her face, gently slapping her awake.

Gem opened her eyes to find a dark haired man standing entirely too close to her face. His own face split into a grin.

“Scar’s alive, guys!”

“I knew he’d faint out of fear.” Grian’s voice came from a corner, not entirely hiding mild distain.

“Come on, man, let’s get you up.” Another voice, Impulse’s voice, came warmly from her other side, and Gem felt herself being picked up. She was set into a chair, and looked up at Impulse, Grian, and Skizzleman.

“Hi guys!” Gem said in her cheeriest voice.

Skizz screamed. Grian screamed louder and higher, clutching to Impulse’s arm. Impulse jumped backwards, falling on Grian, and they both hit the floor. Gem found the wheels of her chair and began moving around.

“Gem?” Impulse finally managed to stutter out, with Skizz and Grian hiding behind him. “Where’s Scar? And how are you… him?”

“Scar’s safe, don’t worry. Let’s go hunt some ghosts, boys!” Gem chirped, leading the way into the haunted house.

——

“Wha- Grian? Impulse? Rizzleman? Did I die? Hello?” Scar sat up, looking around the candle-strewn room in confusion. There was a movement in front of him, and a shadowy figure moved into the candlelight.

“Hello Scar. This is your own personal hell, where you have to pay for the sins of your shulker monsters.” Pearl said in a creepy voice.

“Nooooo!” Scar screamed. “I always knew it would end like this!”

[messiahzzz]

You’re one of the most annoying people on this site. And that really says A LOT because WOW! Shut the Fuck up about Gale wanting to be a father or not. He never says that he doesn’t want to be one. You projecting things onto him doesn’t make it Canon.

on a serious note: i’m certainly not the one that continuously brings up this topic unprompted. i personally really don’t understand the entire controversy around the topic or why fandom feels the need to rehash this conversation almost weekly. i truly believe that there’s nothing more of value to learn from it, to address, or add to it… yet fandom won’t let it rest.

to once again clarify: what i mean by “gale wanting to be a father isn’t canon” is that there is no evidence/neither hints anywhere in any of the dialogue that support the contrary. characters like h*lsin, w*ll and la*’zel have entire adoption subplots. all of them mention their children explicitly during the epilogue:

narrator: *your soul warms thinking of lily aurora ravengard, your adopted daughter. a treasure of a girl, found at the entrance of the open hand temple - one grey eye, one brown.* w*ll: ah, the girl could melt the staunchest heart. she might even have brought a smile to old withers' face! w*ll: but tonight is for us - and lily's only four months of age, besides. i promise, the temple will keep her in good care.

player: and our little hatchling? is he safe? la*'zel: of course. i have complete trust in our newest allies. xan is in fine hands tonight. la*'zel: what a wonder he is. he will be a fine warrior, if he chooses. or a poet, or an explorer, or a scholar.

h*lsin: being away from it... i cannot help but worry how they will fare in our absence. player: we'll be back before they know it. h*lsin: i hope so. the children shall miss their bedtime tale tonight - though perhaps i can glean a few new stories from our friends here, to make up for it.

even shad*wh*art has a line where she briefly mentions that children might be a possibility for her in the future.

shad*wh*art: and i get to see my parents almost every day - i need to make every moment with them count, after so much was stolen from us. but they're doing well, [...] shad*wh*art: who knows? perhaps they'll have grandchildren before long.

gale in comparison? he has none of that. he remains childfree during the entirety of the game + epilogue. in fact, his line in the epilogue that addresses the topic of grandkids is this one:

tara: this is why mrs. dekarios and i will be waiting an eternity more for grandchildren. nodecontext: self-pitying gale: psst! shoo, tara. nodecontext: shooing away tara like one would a naughty cat.

i already wrote a post about this entire discourse here [x] but to repeat myself once more: all of the dialogue that vaguely addresses the topic of children in any way in regards to gale are these snippets

player: gale… how would you feel about having another person in our relationship? gale: what, like a child? i’m not quite sure i’d consider myself father material, plus our current lifestyle isn’t exactly what i’d call settled…

gale, upon spotting oliver during their game of hide and seek: ah, i have you! just a shame i don’t want you.

gale treating the children the group comes across with respect isn’t an indicator either. this is a courtesy gale extends to everyone he meets. he’s a character that approves of a protagonist who systematically commits good deeds. whether it’s sparing animals, helping without compensation in mind, or aiding children. wanting children to be cared for… and you know… for them not to die is common etiquette that every adult should extend to a child in need. those are not “dad goals!!!” it’s quite literally just basic human decency. gale is genuinely kind and caring to everyone he meets, there is no reason why this also wouldn’t apply to children.

i often see fandom mention his encounter with mol at last light and how excited he is to talk to her. which i think greatly misinterprets the context of the scenario since he didn’t have much of a reaction to mol before either — gale is ecstatic about lanceboard. again evident by his reaction to the party finding the life-sized board during the wyrmway trials, and how he immediately offers to give tav pointers. explaining different approaches to them in enthusiastic detail if they allow him to. the man just really likes lanceboard… as well as being the smartest person in the room.

gale: ah, lanceboard! why, this might just be the highlight of our misadventures to date.

gale: lanceboard happens to be a game with which i have more than a passing familiarity. might i offer a suggestion? nodecontext: gale's a badass lanceboard player, anticipating showing off

if you want to headcanon your tav and gale raising a big family together that is more than fine and no one is stopping you. whatever you want to happen to these two after the storyline of the game is up to your respective fantasies. no one is policing you on what you should do with your own character. go wild and create whatever fan content you wish, no justification required.

yet once again, as there is no mention in canon anywhere — neither in the main game nor the epilogue — that this is something gale would ever want (whether that may mean immediately or somewhere down the line) gale wanting to be a father remains a headcanon. while gale being childfree is explicitly shown in the game, in strict comparison to other companions that either have children by the end of the game or voice the desire to (eventually) have them.

my personal preferences are of no relevance here whatsoever. i care about accurate and correct characterization and will point out inconsistencies/false information no matter the topic. i, for one, want to appreciate these characters in the way they're written, not how i ideally want them to be.

[the-leyline-directory]

I'm coming out of hiding about this cause I'm so fucking anxious about sharing this info about Silvaire Canon, but uh!! Sil's canon ship is with Krile!!

I'm anxious cause of the types of reactions that come with ships with lalafells and any race that isn't also a lalafell :( But! For a longstory short of my brainrot with them, Silvaire through most of the MSQ is still 'a voidsent' or technically a 'villain' type character, working behind the scenes to play multiple parties (reasons usually literally just to cause problems for the WoL to force them to grow as a person so they they'll be a 'better meal' down the line.) Though the longer he stays with the warrior of light the less atherical imbalance he has from his voidsent/darkness affliction and the original person he was (the warrior of crystal from ff11) comes through more as he is a good person deep down! Krile, is the first person to clock him on his behavior and see through the way he acts around people due to her Echo! She can read his intent and tell if he's lying, as well as see the unnatural traits (slitted eyes, sharp teeth etc etc) that are hidden from those unblessed. She's the main person who starts correcting his behaviour by giving him consequences for his attempts to distance himself from others by seeming 'untrustworthy' - as she can tell that he's never doing anything maliciously or to be cruel to the WoL or Scions. It's a very nice slowburn relationship! As Silvaire recovers his soul through the process of healing from his traumas (Shadowbringers is the main point he starts becoming a person again cause of his direct confrontation with Emet, and then post Endwalker dealing with the Thirteenth and the potential of fixing his original home) and Krile is a good support to that, as unlike the scions, she's not as quick to mistrust him (or in Thancred's case to fight him on most things) as said before she can sense his intent for what he does, and as he gets more of his 'soul' back, she's the first to offer that olive branch cause she believes him.

There's so much more!!! Honestly!! It's a long goddamn narrative for him, hence him having an entire Google Doc Lore (Covering his original ff11 Lore + The Hound of Garlemald + post > Actual game lore) but someday I'll have it all written, and by that point it'll be a novel in itself. But uh! Yes! I've always seen @starrysnowdrop's content and it eases my heart of worries for the affection I have for the relationship and the development I've done behind the scenes \o/ Inspiration to overcome my phobia's to talk about it in general as it were! The Gposes and Writing that they do is always beautiful!!! And heartwarming!! \o/ Give them a looksie! Their work is wonderful! I wouldn't be confident to post this without seeing them on my feed. But ya! I'll be doing more content of them now that I'm not being fearful of it! Cause they're important!! And I'm a sap!

Thanks for reading and while it's none of most people's business I will say that the relationship itself is emotional attraction top of all, and sexual aspects are not the focus of this narrative >:( Lalafell are adults who can have fully established relationships and 'sex' isn't an end-all-be-all when exploring character dynamics. The deep emotional connection and trust of secrets and feelings, as well as providing comfort from so many trials!!! Sorry rambling again. I care them very much!

[rhaegang]

i know it's an overdone trope but... persephone felix and hades oliver, what are your thoughts?

My thoughts are YES. There’s just a massive stack of different myths to play with where these saltboys can easily be involved, but this one is such a core myth, you know?? And it’s pretty obvious that a lot of the appeal of cattonquick is the duality and the contrasts — light and dark, big and small, extrovert and introvert etc. That’s obviously true of this myth, too.

I think it would be extremely interesting to see someone approach it from the reverse, also. Hades certainly has more power in their dynamic, and draws Persephone into an entire realm that’s foreign to her, that would come with its own customs etc. I can definitely see Saltburn as the underworld and Oliver as a fairly innocent but sharp-tongued Persephone whose darkness is only awakened by proximity to the beautiful, congenial, yet callously cruel and selfish Felix / Hades…???

I love how it could work either way for them, and that makes my brain buzz with how they are! The same! Somehow! I don’t know how Emerald, Barry & Jacob did it but they fully managed to convince me that Oliver and Felix are the same person split into two bodies with two wildly different upbringings. Not even twins separated at birth kind of thing, but one soul cleaved in two. They seem!!! So different!!! But I don’t believe it. I believe they are Enmeshed. They are made of the same stuff, somehow.

(though wouldn’t it be fun to do like, a historic fantasy where Queen Elspeth birthed two boys and they disposed of the smaller quieter babe to avoid any disputes over who would be the heir…but instead of killing the boy, a guard or the wet nurse sold it to a modest merchant whose wife had given him four lovely daughters but who was still in need of a son…and one day that merchant’s son happens to save the prince from a runaway carriage or something and is summoned to the castle keep…)

Anyway. Back to Hades & Persephone.

Oliver doesn’t mind his work. It’s consistent, it’s predictable, it’s necessary. He has plenty of time to himself, and he has all the knowledge of the ages available to him — any scholar who has ever lived has also died or will one day, and their great minds are available for his perusal.

But it is cold, and sometimes much too quiet, and he’s so very tired of being merely tolerated by the other gods. He works hard, much harder than many of them, and he deserves recognition and respect. He deserves more than their disdain and rejection.

He knows saying this would matter little. If he wants something, he’ll have to make it happen for himself. After all — he works hard. Why shouldn’t he benefit from his own efforts now and then?

Felix is naive and trusting, and much too loose-tongued when he’s drunk. He says more than he ought to, considering that Oliver is a stranger to him, but he’s sun warm and charming and no one would ever, ever think to hurt him — he’s a child of Demeter and Zeus!

So he says more than he ought to, including that he is so very, very bored by making things grow. He doesn’t want to do Demeter’s work all the damn time. He’s tired of being forever gilded by the sun, of being enrobed in the cloying scent of fresh flowers, of the adoration of every living thing.

“…and what if you were adored by a dead thing?”

It’s such a strange question, and Felix is so drunk, cheeks and mouth flushed with wine, that he laughs.

He laughs, but when Oliver beside him does not laugh, Felix turns to look at him properly.

And he sees, very briefly, the shadow of a great scythe. He sees, for a mere moment, those sharp blue eyes embedded in a death mask, suspended in dark and empty sockets of bleached bone.

What falls from Felix’s mouth is not a laugh, then, but a gasp.

Terror grips him, and it makes him tremble, and everyone knows he’s easily scared. Everyone knows that, so later, everyone believes that he must have been too scared to run. He must have been too frightened to fight back.

Everyone understands that it isn’t Felix’s fault that he disappears, that in his absence the growing things stop growing, that the warm sun turns its face away, that winter comes for the very first time. It’s much easier to blame Oliver, the strange one, the Other, for all that. It’s easier to believe that Oliver must have taken Felix away than it is to believe he simply left of his own accord.

It’s easier for everyone to believe that, but only because they’ve never been to where Oliver comes from. They’ve never felt the calm, the cold, the peace of the place. And they’ve never felt how it feels to have Oliver’s complete, rapturous attention, to be preferred over all others by He who knows every soul that’s ever lived. They’ve never felt how it feels to be held in the arms that will one day reap the entire world.

They have never kissed him and tasted their own oblivion.

They know nothing, and that’s why they believe they must bring Felix back to where they think he belongs.

But Felix eats, willingly, fed from Oliver’s hand, and he will wait. He will lie naked in the summer fields and let himself grow sun warm again, let the scent of flowers cling to his skin, let the vibrating, screaming chaos of all this busy life sink in and swell inside himself. He’ll soak up the love of the living, and then some day soon, he’ll spill all of it into Oliver, empty himself out like an upturned bottle of wine, a ready vessel waiting to be filled up again with something new.

Something quiet, and cold. Something that terrifies him. Something he chose.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Pt. 1: Alexander's Warning

Masterlist

TW: Mind control

Oliver looked up from his book as the streetlights outside his shop window flickered on one by one, the uncharacteristically warm fall day turning into a balmy evening. The day had seemed to disappear in an instant, and he had little to show for it. Few customers wanted to spend time in a dusty, cramped bookshop on such a beautiful day, and he'd completely neglected to fix the shelving in the history section as he'd intended. He'd been far too engrossed in his book, a collection of ghost tales translated from the original Finnish that he'd had specially imported. 

It was nice enough out that he could keep the shop open a few hours longer in the hope of catching some late night customers. His bookshop, stocking rare, antique, and arcane books, was a business he ran out of passion and not for the money, but he did still need to put food on the table. 

He was just about to put down his book and get to tidying up when the tiny brass bell above the door jingled. The man who entered was deathly pale and thin, with an unruly mop of brown hair and piercing blue eyes. His clothing was rumpled and his shirt only partway tucked in, and between that and the deep bags under his eyes, he gave the impression of someone who hadn't slept in a week.

"Ah, Mr. Alexander! Good evening!" said Oliver, his mood improving. Alexander was eccentric, but loaded with cash, and one of his most reliable buyers of rare and expensive books -- especially those with purported supernatural origins. In his more fanciful moments, Oliver liked to imagine that Alexander was perhaps involved in the supernatural himself. He certainly looked the part. 

"Good evening." Alexander approached the counter, leaning on it as though he were about to fall over. "You mentioned last week that you might be getting in a copy of The Will of the Constellations. Has it...?"

"Oh, yes." Oliver reached for the book on a shelf behind him. He'd forgotten he'd set this one aside specifically for Alexander. "Here it is, sir. As you can see, it's in excellent condition."

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" Oliver asked, keen to make an additional sale. "I've also received in a book dating from the 16th century about sorcery practices in France, and --"

"Is it really safe to be open this late tonight?" said Alexander sharply, his entire demeanor changing in a snap. "And let people... like me... into your shop?"

Oliver's heart thumped. "Like you...?"

"You are aware that the Auction is in this city this year, correct?" said Alexander, leaning in closer and speaking in low tones. "Surely you don't need me to tell you how much of a target you are?"

"Auction? Target?" Oliver swallowed hard, taking an instinctive step backwards. "I don't know what you mean, sir."

"Are you a civilian?" Alexander asked with a tone of disbelief. "Running a shop like this, I assumed... but then again, you don't have any wards on it...?"

Oliver was rapidly getting the impression that he was in far over his head. "A civilian, sir?"

"Never mind," he said, waving his hand as if to dismiss everything he just said. "Just close up early tonight. Trust me."

"With all due respect, Mr. Alexander, I'm perfectly capable of running my shop as I see fit."

Alexander rubbed at his eyes. "That's not the point I'm trying to make." He looked up, his gaze intimidatingly piercing. "Listen," he said, his deep voice echoing somewhere in Oliver's soul. "You're tired."

"I'm... tired..." Oliver repeated in a daze, feeling a sudden wave of drowsiness washing over him.

"You need to close your shop early this week, as soon as dark falls."

"...close my shop early..." he muttered. He felt so strange, yet so calm, unable to comprehend what was happening to him. 

"Close your shop as soon as I leave."

Oliver blinked his heavy eyes. It was so nice to listen to Alexander's voice. How had he not noticed that before? "Yes... yes sir..." 

"Good." Alexander snapped his fingers, and the oppressive atmosphere in the shop shifted back to normal. "Here's the money I owe you for the book. Stay safe this week. You're a smart man, and you've done well by me, and I'd hate to see something happen to you."

Oliver still felt out of it from whatever had just happened. "...Is that a threat, sir?"

"It's a warning. Remember it well. Good-bye."

And with that, Alexander was out the door, a brisk wind ruffling the books as he left.

With a shaking hand, Oliver reached for his water glass, taking a large swig to try and clear his head. Something had happened just now with Alexander, and he was certain it wasn't a flight of fancy this time. He could still feel the hold Alexander's words had on his mind, was fighting the urge to yawn, so tired. Had he really...?

And if so, exactly who was Alexander? More importantly, what was Alexander?

He was so pale, so youthful, and his hands were so cold when he handed money to Oliver. And his teeth...

It couldn't be. Vampires weren't real.

And yet...

When Oliver thought that perhaps he really should close up shop, he wasn't sure if the thought was his or the one Alexander planted there. Either way, he knew it would make him feel better.

He had just stood up from his chair, jingling his keys in his pocket, when the brass bell above the door rang once again.

The woman who entered was petite, with severe-looking pulled-back hair, impeccably dressed in a men's suit that had been perfectly tailored to her figure. She walked with the air of someone who expected her every whim to be obeyed.

"Good evening, shopkeep," she said with a wicked grin.

Masterlist >> Part Two

[apparently-i-am-an-adult]

Finding Equal Footing.

Episode 8 babyyyyy here we go!

I love everything about this opening scene, and just now rewatching it it finally clicked as to why. White and Sean start off on different levels and end the scene on unequal footing.

This entire time, White and Sean have been going back and forth with each other, often misunderstanding what each other has to say. They had their biggest problem during their last mission, with White not understanding Sean’s anger and Sean incapable of understanding White’s compassion and consideration. It was only later, at the protests, and under the pride flag, that they both understood what they could actually achieve.

Of course, Sean had a couple kicks to the head on the way (thanks to Yok and his mom, mainly) but once he sees what White’s actions have led to he understands his anger and vengeance will just hurt people, and won’t actually bring about the change in society he says he wants. So he decides to apologize to White.

Sean starts by barging his way into the room. White is understandably unwilling to let him into his space, but Sean will not be denied. He overpowers white, with both his height and his strength.

Once he’s in, he goes to sit on the bed. White, upset, says, “don’t sit on the bed, sit on the floor.” Sean immediately gets up and sits on the floor with no comment and only mild reluctance. The Sean of two episodes ago would have made more of an argument. Even with the excuse White gives, “your pants are dirty,” Sean only asks if he should take his pants off. No dirty pants, problem solved.

White still refuses, and tells him to sit on the floor again. And he does. He makes the crack about White sitting in the bed, but White responds “well it’s my room,” and Sean doesn’t say anything. I think it’s a quiet acknowledgment of their fight earlier in Sean’s room about White’s space there.

Notice White sits straight, above Sean, now dominant, with the higher ground. It isn’t until Sean offers him the drink does he lean in.

White asks if Sean is there to apologize.

Sean is, but he still has his pride, so he won’t admit White’s right. White still has a feeling, though. He lays down on the bed, bringing himself closer to Sean’s level, but still looking down on him. White is a petty bitch, so he steals the alcohol from him mod-swig.

(Also notice how White grimaces when drinking alcohol except when drinking Vodka with Eugene. He made this same face when Todd gave him a drink too. HC white is a vodka only man.)

White accepts the olive branch of alcohol, and asks Sean what he’s there to talk about.

Sean apologizes, and White calls him on it.

Sean acknowledges White’s success, and how they’ve never had this much public support of their actions before. White, smiling, Sean’s facing him and leaning in. They’re getting closer to understanding each other, but they’re not on the same level yet.

White makes the first move.

He gets off the bed. He sits on the floor, across from Sean, looking directly into his eyes. He knows what he’s asking. Why do you hate him so much? What did he do that would make you attack innocent parties? Why would you throw yourself on the pyre for the hope that he would burn?

Tell me, White says. Trust me.

White sits there, reaching out, meeting Sean where he is, refusing to to let him be alone. He ducks his head down, and White follows him, refusing to look away.

Sean spills his soul, telling White everything about how dark his life got. White brings him back by touching his face.

“You’re still here. Thank you for telling me,” White says. He knows how important this is to Sean, knows that it wasn’t easy for Sean to tell him. “Now I understand you better. I want you to trust me like I trust you.”

Even with how Black has changed, Sean can’t imagine he would event want to actually understand him. To him Black couldn’t care that much. And trusting him, when Black would question everything he does?

White proves it.

(Side note: this isn’t just White, this is Gun. He’s just Like That. He will trust fall with zero prompting. Look it up on YouTube, there’s a compilation. It’s hilarious.)

Anyway. White returns Sean’s trust with a show of his own. Sean doesn’t fail. They’re here, together, on (almost) equal footing now.

Sean offers white a chance to punch him to make it even. White bonks him in the head instead, and Sean calls it even. And there, laughing, having cleared the air between them, having offered real evidence of trust between them, White and Sean are finally on the same page and can move forward together.

[tabswrites]

Writing Share Tag

Tagged by @talesofsorrowandofruin here!

Tagging: @theprissythumbelina @writingamongther0ses @the-golden-comet @revenantlore @space-writes

This is taken from a Very Spoiler-Heavy Scene but I enjoy the dialogue and I get emotional thinking about how loyal Adrin is to Mara, who he has only known for two weeks.

Mara pushed Adrin aside gently, but firmly, and let out a frightening growl. “I can’t believe this. I threw my entire life away because I believed in you!”

“Oh, no, Miss Wilkes,” [Secret Antagonist] purred with a raised brow. “You threw your life away because you believed in power, just like me–the power that was taken from us. Is it not enough that they deny the world of magic? Must we beg for our lives, too? I’m giving you the chance to restore the world that they stole,” he jabbed a finger in Oliver’s direction, “-and rule it as you see fit.”

She wiped a fresh dribble of blood from her nostril and let out a heavy sigh. “Why are you grieving a world that was never yours?” She held out a pale, spindly hand and gestured to him with a snort. “ Look around, [Secret Antagonist]. There’s nothing left. You’ve kept the Light alive long enough to satisfy your own desires, but you’ve gone too far. No possible future could be worth three souls.”

“I know you’ve seen it,” he said with a slow grin. “Just glimpses, but enough to know the truth.”

She jerked away as if he had struck her. Adrin glanced down at Irk, who blinked up at him in response. Her shadows made her more difficult to read, but he would have known if Mara was keeping something from him. He wasn’t wrong to trust her.

“Mara?” he prompted.

She raised her head, but seemed unable to meet his eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t let it be true.” Her bottom lip trembled as she looked back at [Secret Antagonist]. “The Light will go out this time–that I promise you.”

[maineshewrote]

I-just-started-s4e7-thoughts-part-1:

If the killer is always shooting doubles, who is going to take the bullet for Mabel? Cinda? Alice? Not Jan. Who else is there? I don't think they're gonna touch the actors.

Why, hello, Lester! Let me hear what you have to say.

The trio is going into hiding from their home, where they have all their clothes, and they still go out in the most eye-catching and memorable outfits they own. Great.

I feel like Loretta would see Oliver's text and shrug, thinking this is normal over-dramatic Oliver behaviour, that a box of his favourite dips probably went bad or something.

Also, they could've just gone to Mabel's mom's house.

Oh, so Howard is going to tell Loretta where to find the trio. I was wondering how she gets there to patch things up if they're in hiding.

Just when I said aloud, "Are we gonna see some dolls in the titles? (because there's lots of dolls in the trailer and it's time) Not in the trio's place (who never change in the titles) obviously but-"—that very next moment, I tell you—all of the trio have fake Loretta braids. This is eerie. And I can't wait.

Pretty accurate portrayal of a sibling relationship so far, what with the bickering and guilt-tripping.

Mabel is so real for just outright saying what everybody's thinking. This broad is trouble.

"August Suffolk Country"? I sense another pun on Meryl's movies. (Adaptation (the episode name) was another connection to her.)

Now that is eerie. That Loretta doll. I can just see it now. They're going to put Loretta in a room with that doll because this season is all about doubles. Seriously, there's so many doubles it's getting hard to count them all.

Oliver is such a chaotic caricature of his family in that scene, huddling next to Doll-Loretta and cradling Baby-Doll-Will.

Howard, you absolute dunce! This is a hideout! You don't tell the whole world where your friends are taking cover from an armed tech maniac.

Okay, there's dolls everywhere but I noticed that they also get moved from place to place. The cheerleader in the bedroom is in the dining room in the morning.

Doreen, get off Oliver, you're scaring him. I can already see the chaos brewing. Nevertheless, you've seriously got to applaud her confidence.

"Something's maybe bothering you." Yeah, maybe you standing between him and freedom.

Howaaard!

I am constantly impressed by Mabel's strong leader characteristics and her patience to put up with all of these nutcases.

Seems to me Oliver is describing Loretta either way—after all, she is both a creative counterpart and someone to hold and adore. Just not while she's working on the other side of the country.

No, you don't agree when a lady of questionable moral sanity describes your girlfriend ideal as, "Like a doll." It feels like Oliver just unknowingly signed some soul-consuming contract with a witch, who would give him a cursed porcelain Loretta instead.

Favourite line from this episode so far has been that entirely pleased scandalized, "Mista Putman!"

I called it, saw that awkward entrance coming for miles. At least Oliver was smart enough to explain the situation on the spot and not drop the old, "It's not what it looks like."

On the other hand, every time she's on screen, my inner Oliver emerges, twinkling eyes and all, sighing, "Doesn't Loretta look pretty?"

I didn't take enough time to think about the disaster of a proposal from the episode before because it just felt so tasteless compared to the tender story Oliver and Loretta have shared so far. My first thought was that she was too wrapped up to speak, but of course it makes perfect sense that it was her double instead. I know we're in a season of doubles, but I did not reckon with Loretta's doubles, too. Yes, plural, because the doll is there.

It's always so heart-warming to see these signs of a true, close, meaningful and (relatively) healthy relationship between these two. Now, of course there have been some trust issues, but the way they can always laugh together, at anything and everything, is just such a green flag for the both of them. Also, the way Oliver reacted when Loretta burst into laughter was so sweet—yes, he was a little grumpy but he expressed it in an amused manner. No matter how hurt he might have been, he was happy to see Loretta laughing, even if he did think she was laughing at him.

It unnerves me that Oliver's peak hilarious, "Everyone should be worried about Doreen," cut to the Loretta doll. Now I'm getting worried for her.

Every time Doreen opens her mouth I am impressed with her voice.

That momentary look on Charles's face when Doreen talks about Oliver—I'm interpreting it as "keep your hands off, that merchandise is off the market". Which reminds me I need to see a Charles & Loretta scene. You know, the Charles who was super protective of Loretta from the start and who would walk through fire to ensure his friends' happiness.

I think it's so sweet that Loretta is so far the only partner (aside from Joy, I guess) who learned right away that the trio doesn't like being interrupted in their work on the case, so she's the only actor coming into the kitchen with an apology and explaining right away that she doesn't intend to meddle.

Sort of surreal to see Meryl playing the excited newbie of the acting world next to the other actors. And all the while it's such a relief to see Loretta's sweet character retain that positive zeal of hers even when all of the Hollywood gang don't really show much appreciation for her.

Galifragilistic's line, "I have a hole inside of me," being part of the song "Valley of the Dolls" is on point.

Plot holes? Say that to my face, you canned fruit—because I would agree. But that's just because the current story probably stretches back to season 1, so how could it be perfect if they're still figuring out the stalker was there since Tim's case.

I'll be honest, it was about time they made someone pull on one of Loretta's braids. She's such a soft pushover and those braids are just there, waiting for the next bully to come along.

And cue the benevolent Loretta immediately feeling sorry for said bully.

Love that they're bringing back the "Here we are at the piano" theme.

Loretta's wearing the same fabric as the doll. I'm pretty sure it was just a neat touch by the creative team and will have no meaning in the story-line. Mostly because it makes absolutely no sense in the canon universe—and I don't even want them to explain. Just let me enjoy this meaningless visual clue.

We all knew how that one was going to end. While it was gut-wrenching to watch, I believe it was best that Oliver confessed his Instagram scam—long-term it's going to be better to not have this secret between them.

And here we are again, another after-sitting-at-the-piano row featuring Oliver saying all the wrong things, realizing his incompetence in handling his feelings and cursing.

Doreen actually had a very valid point, before all hell broke loose. Oliver really is an open book, and we all love him for it.

I wonder if the creators saw in some statistics that people were watching the Fight Call repeatedly and then decided to include a cat-fight for Loretta this time around.

I'm sort of disappointed that the guys only saw the latter part of the fight, and therefore, even if Mabel fills them in on the whole picture (or, you know, the part that she saw), they'll still only have the mental image of that deranged tasteless Loretta-rodeo.

Speaking of deranged, I wonder if Jan is ever going to be caught again. Or do we just let her run free?

I wonder if third time’s a charm and next season we'll finally see Oliver save Loretta from a fight.

Beautiful reconciliation scene for the siblings. I would love it if that meant we get to see Doreen as an episodic side character from now on.

I had too many comments for one post, so this will continue in part 2.

[infinitethree]

When the next lesson with Daz and Lee comes, Lucid pretty quickly clocks a weird vibe in the air.

But, well, it’s Daz and Lee. What could they possibly get up to that could be considered malicious?

Eventually, Lee turns to Daz and tells him, like a warning, “You’re stalling. Get it over with, Daz.”

And Daz…

Changes.

There’s no other way to describe it. Like a lightswitch, he flips from the guy that Lucid has known for years– whose soul he repaired from the bastardized loyalty enchantment shoved into it, who has become a pillar of the server, who has been so painfully kind and generous and good to��

To someone else.

“I knew I was an admin all along. I don’t trust you, because you remind me of Dream. The man who I considered a brother, my mentor, who ruined me. The loyalty enchantment you fixed…? I wrote most of it.”

None of that even begins to start to register before San’s extreme confusion bowls him over.

That makes two of them! Daz shouldn’t be able to lie to San, that’s not–

A chill goes down his spine as Daz gives him a humorless smile. It looks wrong on his face.

“Lying and acting are easy. It’s not hard to just–”

Oh, fuck, it is so disturbing to watch Daz’s expression and body language flip to something entirely different. It’s like he’s putting on a pair of clothes.

…Like he’s switching masks.

It’s exactly how Lucid saw him when he first arrived. Timid, head bowed, shoulders hunched, expression anxious and fearful. “I– it’s, uhm–! Being able to, to just– it’s not…it’s not impressive. I don’t– I’m not bragging. It’s not th– that big of, uhm, of a deal. I, I just…I’m sure anyone else could do it. If they wanted to.”

The mask gets swapped to the one Lucid knows better. Bright, bubbly, cheerful, expression warm and voice perky. “So, sure, I can like– lie good enough that the perpetual surveillance system never caught on but like…it’s not hard? You just gotta stare at yourself in the mirror for like, ever, and have a perfect mastery of your face and voice and body! Totally not that impressive.”

As if to drive the point home, the absolute worst is the way Daz erases everything.

No emotion to his voice, his face, his body language. He looks like a mannequin and it’s disturbing enough that Lucid will definitely have nightmares about that.

“I still do not trust you will not snap one day. Your existence as an admin Dream grates against me like blackstone does to your soul. The same eyes; the same voice; the same face; the same stupid fixation on fairness at the cost of all else. I resent your existence.”

Lee, wings poofed out in distress, snaps at him, “What the fuck?! Why did you have to break it like that?!”

Daz blinks, and emotions return. He tells Lee, a literal child, “I’m being blackmailed into revealing anything. Be grateful I didn’t make it worse.”

Granted, it’s kind of hard to focus on anything around San’s freakout, but Lucid croaks, “Who–?”

“DayDream,” Daz seethes, and, oh, okay!

This is a person who can effortlessly lie and is very much not an outlier vis-a-vis the Tommy capacity for spite.

Cool. Awesome. Lucid is going to have words with Day about how little he wants to bear the brunt of Daz’s resentment about being forced to out himself.

He swallows. “I…am going to guess you, uh– are so good with code because you already know all of this.”

“I can out-code you in a lot of ways,” Daz scoffs.

When Lucid squints at him, Lee shrugs helplessly. “He’s been teaching me for a few weeks in secret. He explains it better.”

Daz’s hands move, and suddenly Lucid’s console is forcibly redirected to a page of code.

…Oh, he does not like what he’s seeing.

Teeth bared in a mockery of a smile, Daz tells him, “That’s what I used to make sure the idiots of my original server were ignorant that I killed Dream. He made dinner in a pathetic, worthless attempt at an olive branch. I ate it, composed that code, and jammed the knife in his throat. Then I mocked him while I watched him bleed out on our blackstone tile floor.”

That sure does explain how Daz realized the effects of long-term blackstone and obsidian exposure to a fully ascended admin.

Staring him down as if daring him to say something, Daz continues, “As he respawned, I threw both halves of our claims in the fire. Our server was silent, so he could just…go back and watch.”

It should horrify him, but all Lucid can say and think is, “Good. Regardless of what he was like before he hit that point…? That code was– there was no way he wasn’t aware it was killing you.”

A bitter scoff escapes Daz. “Not like I could stop from screaming with every order. But I was counting on it killing me. The T3 gave me a better option for revenge, though– because walking away would mean he stayed there, waiting, for the rest of his life.”

Lucid shudders. He does not want to piss this guy off now or ever.

If he hadn’t seen the enchantment, he’d feel some pity for Dream.

Instead, he’s just glad Daz was able to exercise some sort of power in that situation.

Lee suddenly pipes up. “He’s the one who told me about Piglins. And, uh, is teaching me about Endfolk.”

He squints. “Endfolk? So they’re smart, too?” “Sapient is the word you’re looking for,” Daz sniffs. Lucid can hear the unspoken idiot, and it’s surreal as fuck to hear from Daz.

“Sapient, then. So, uh– are we…going to introduce them to the server, too, or–”

“Absolutely the fuck not,” Daz snaps. “Endfolk customs and culture revolve around using words to fuck over other hauntings. You play by their rules or they attack you. On a server like this, that’ll lead to full-blown wars. Wars that will leave hundreds of living, sentient beings very much dead forever.”

Ah.

Daz rants, “You’d be lucky to be allowed to shadow a meeting with them– Lee isn’t allowed to do it until he can pass a test to my satisfaction. He’s too easy to traumatize with that shit.”

…Lucid gets the impression that Daz wouldn’t mind him getting traumatized, though.

“I– will trust your judgment on that, I guess?” “You guess,” Daz sneers.

He makes a face and says, “So sue me for not keeping up with– with all of this! It’s kind of a lot to drop on me all at once, you know!”

Daz gives him a withering look. “Blame DayDream, then.” “Oh, I very much do.”

Lee points out, “But Dad was right, you know. Lucid– it’s not fair to keep you in the dark. Not when you’ll both be working together…”

Another scoff comes from Daz. “I only agreed to do any of this because I wasn’t going to let you be trained alone.”

The implications of what he was afraid of speak volumes about how deeply traumatic his past actually was. Not the parts he’s lied about– the actual past.

It makes him wonder…”You haven’t been doing therapy right, have you?”

There’s a roll of his eyes. “I’m being forcibly switched to Iatros, so stay out of it. I don’t need you on my case about that, too.”

…Wonderful, they’re going to share a therapist. That’s…at least ‘Tros is familiar with admin shit?

…Probably why he’s being switched, actually.

After taking a long, deep breath, and with a moment to gather his thoughts, he finally asks the big question;

“So, what now?”

Daz narrows his eyes like he doesn’t understand. Lucid clarifies, “If you don’t like or trust me, it’s not fair to make you study under me–” “I’m not leaving you alone with Lee.”

Hmm, okay then.

He tries another angle, “Alright. Then…maybe you can teach me?”

When Daz doesn’t immediately tell him to fuck off, he continues, “If you’re so much better than me, I could probably learn a lot from you. And if we’re not talking through you trying to pretend to be someone you’re not–”

“An act that fooled you, I’ll point out.” “Yeah, obviously. But it also meant that you had to channel things you clearly knew already through Lee or, uh, acting like you’re just now figuring them out. Now, you can just– I dunno, use this to rub in how superior you actually are? I don’t really, uh, know what the real you is like.”

Daz drums his fingers on his arm. The silence stretches until he sighs and mutters, “...I guess I can show you a few things.”

And…so sue him, Lucid is actually kind of excited to learn what Daz’s actual skills are in regards to this.

He must have been holding back, but was already very impressive.

As weird as this whole situation is, as disturbing as it is to know that Daz was actually far more competent than he ever let on…

Well. He can’t really say there’s no upsides to him showing his hand. Willingly or not, Daz opening up means that they can actually help him…and that Daz can help them, too.

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

Does this look like the face of someone who betrayed their best friend and enslaved a planet for a few millennia?

No? Good, then I'm doing his character redesign correctly.

I'm working on redesigning the main villain of The SOS Chronicles, Algol, based on the lyrics of the Petra song "Angel of Light".

"Angel of Light, I see you glow in the night, But you only bring darkness to my soul. Angel of Light You're telling me wrong is right But I won't let your evil take control."

Instead of leaning into demonic elements like I was before, I'm now trying to make him look alluring, like someone you assume is a good guy because how could he not be??? just look at him! It makes more sense then that the characters didn't realize right away that he was the big bad, especially since he's also using Almitak's power to mind control (almost) the entire populace of the planet (Aguitha) he lives on. But Almitak's power weakens over time, so as the mind control loosens, Algol falls back on using his beauty, along with lies and trickery, to keep people trusting him. Much like a skilled politician, he makes the ordinary people think he cares about them by knowing just what to say every time. His military following is completely loyal and trusting of him because of the web of lies he's trapped them in, and it takes a long time for Oliver and co. to unravel those lies and find the truth of who Algol is and what he's doing.

(no, but seriously, on a scale of 1-10, how trustworthy do you think he looks? This is just a concept-art esque sketch, I am open to changing his design at this point, feedback is appreciated)

[the-baschet]

#10 - Bonus Day! (Wandering Soul)

Continued from #3 - Bonus Day! (Straying Home)

Now, it is only a matter of time. Once I turn in the last of my leve plates, I need only speak with a few people before my leave... When did I even have people in my life again? I never wanted to have companionship or people to care for again. I was supposed to be alone, feared. A small heartache for those around me to deal with and yet they have filled in the empty spaces of my heart without my knowing. Should I do so much as stub my toe, I have them screaming in my face to take care of myself. Should they receive a mild bruise, I am quick to scold them with everything I have...

Though, I suppose that was only a matter of time as well. My conviction, after breaking ground from Dragonhead to Alder Springs, it faltered enough to clench my chest with severe doubt.

Reagan, gods bless that bizarre girl. I spoke with her first since it was mostly her idea. She was right, and on most accounts frustratingly. She took it so exceptionally well, bouncing up and down as was her wont, perhaps hoping I would settle upon the idea since she brought it up some moons ago. And, as much as I would like her to be there during my trial, she will not watch. She, too, is all but condemned should the wrong person find her out. Her sins are great though to no true fault of her own... The entire situation is far too damned complicated. Instead, she offered to keep my mother company during the ordeal. A gesture that swells my heart and has me more grateful than anything I could ever imagine.

Then there is that frostbitten girl. I suppose I ought to let her know as well. Bexy, the girl with a heart of pure gold, bleeding in the lifeblood of her friends, her enemies, and her own blood as well. It is truly a wonder she does not drown in it all. She has even graced me with her affection, caring for me, killing for me. I would do no less for her though I still cannot fathom why. Why me. And even still, after I have hurt her in a way I never thought I was capable of. That she still trusts me after my lack of self-control... I will be proving myself to her for the rest of my life. Perhaps to myself as well.

I am not terribly sure if I should, and yet I find myself leaning toward the idea regardless. Do I trust that Oliver? Do I tell him the deeds I have committed that has me tried? How much should I say? A noble and former soldier, he says. Mauled by a dragon with scars on his face as proof, should that be believed. I feel there is so much more worth knowing, a camaraderie in my grasp.

Once this charade is over, I can finally move on with my life.

(Shoutouts to Reagan (who doesn't have a tumblr), @umbralsound-xiv for your girl, and @blueberryaesthetics for your man)

[contrastparadoxx]

Fledgling Beginnings

Summary: Callie meets someone new Word count: 1460 Characters: Callie, Stygia ( @whispertrolls ), mentions of Poppie (whisper)

The attack went terribly.

They were expecting her. Had someone tipped them off, or had this been a set up from the start she had to wonder, as she limped through the woods, drops of lime feeling almost neon in the moonlight. Why, why, why! Why hadn’t she listened and brought one of the others? She could hear the sound of a drone getting ever closer. Only the one, but it had been unexpectedly strong, enough to throw her off balance, and a single glancing blow had left her leg badly injured. She had to keep moving keep pushing forward, there was a stream somewhat up ahead, that would hopefully provide enough time for her to at least get an sos out.

But it wasn’t to be, the sounds got louder, and she only just was able to throw herself to the ground in a roll and avoid the snapping shut of jaws that would have severely injured her, if not outright killed. As she came out of the roll she drew back, taking aim directly at the creature. She couldn’t risk not landing this shot or she would be dead, so her grip tightened slight, white wood painted green. She had to just beg and pray that someone would answer, though her hopes were not high after the heated argument she had the last time an ancestor was summoned. 

Vision already getting fuzzy black from blood loss, this wasn’t good. One shot, she had just one shot. She took a breath, adrenaline making everything slow around her. Stars above let someone answer her.

Anyone.

She felt a hand resting on hers lightly, guiding her shot. She trusted it, did she have a choice, her arrow gleaming dangerously before shooting forward, perfectly striking its target. The noise from the drone let her know it was, for the moment, disabled. Her chest heaved, no time no time just get up and go. She could barely move, but getting away from here was the most important task. “Please, thank you, I’m sorry, I don’t know” she said softly, not yet looking towards whoever was summoned, just limping away towards the stream. If she could get there, she could get to her hiding spot until Soul returned with someone. 

Turns out swimming and holding your breath is hard when bleeding heavily, but at least the shock of the cold jolted her more awake, and once she was able to slump down the wall to the ground did she look around, hoping whoever had answered her summons had followed.

And they had.

She paused, surprised. Not ever met this one before… “…You’re new”

“So are you, but worry about the introductions when you aren’t bleeding out.”

Fair enough, honestly. It didn’t take too much urging for Callie to actually show the injury on her leg. It likely wouldn’t kill her, unless left entirely untreated, but she needed to stop the bleeding in any way she could for now. Her hands were shaking as she tried, making what should be a simple task so much harder. Luckily, one major advantage to being her is it was relatively easy to let ghosts, or at least her relatives, touch her, so the current visitor was able to guide and even somewhat steady her hands once again. Only once both were sure the bleeding was stopped did the talking start again, likely to keep herself awake, she mused internally.

“Alright, I’m not bleeding out anymore, so who are you and why haven’t I seen you before? Normally the new ones are so much harder to pull here but you took… nothing. At least, nothing noticeable.”

“Well, I suppose it isn’t surprising that I was easy to call,” the ghost nodded towards the bow that Callie carried. “You’re using my bow… well… essentially. I wasn’t the first to use it.” Pointedly, they avoided the question of their name. “I’ve been elsewhere for a while, and I wasn’t listening for its echo… but regardless, where did you find it?”

“You didn’t actually answer the question of WHO you are.”

They paused for a moment, then softly sighed as their fingers began to play with their olive shawl. “…Stygia, or ‘The Catalyst’, but that title only means something to me when it’s used to spit in the face of the empire.”

Ah. Understanding clicks in Callie’s eyes “you’re my ancestor. Like��� my direct ancestor.”

“Apparently so.” They glanced around, wary of any threats that may have fallen, not upon them, but upon their newfound descendant. “The fact that you know of me of me is likely a mess all on its own— One I would prefer to sort out once you’ve reached safety.”

“Well,” Callie said with a small sigh “I’m stuck here til… probably Poppie shows up. I hope it’s NOT Poppie but it will probably be Poppie and then BOY OH BOY!” Fake chipperness dripped from her tone “I sure will be getting an earful.”

“Poppie.” Stygia twitched an ear as they processed the name. They listened in silence for another moment, then nodded to the bow at Callie’s side. “Keep our bow ready by your hand, and I’ll guide your arrows. You need to stay alert for just a while longer.”

“I swear I don’t usually get this badly hurt on missions,” Callie was fully aware this was a horrible first impression to make, and gritted her teeth. “They were expecting me this time. That never happens, and frankly I’m curious about how it did.” Her grip on the bow tightened slightly, not quite enough to turn her knuckles white.

“Your usual isn’t relevant here.” Another ear twitch, this time with the energy of subtle annoyance. “Focus on right now, and holding your own until your companion arrives.”

“I’m just trying to make conversation because it’s frankly either that, pass out, or start swearing so loud I WILL attract attention” comes the snippy, annoyed reply.

“…Hm.” They emit a soft sound from the back of their throat, one that seemed almost akin to amusement. “You might feel at least marginally better talking about yourself, rather than dwelling on what went wrong.”

The living Astera let out a groan, leaning her head back against the rock behind her, eyes closed. “Aw man, that’s like, me least favorite topic to talk about. You sure you don’t want to hear about the history of reoccurring motifs in tea cup designs?” There’s a note of hopefulness in her tone, but she does not even wait for an answer before sighing. “There’s not really anything I can say you don’t already know. Being a lime fucking sucks, being an Astera doubly sucks, this whole planet is like- ass incarnate.” She pulls her hood leg up so she can hold it, pointedly avoiding looking at the ghost.

“Something we can agree on, I’ll admit.” They shifted in place, then pointed at the sky, where a winged shape could be seen against the night sky. Its wings beat in a steady, but haunting, rhythm of the night. “But, least favorite topic or not, you demanded my name without providing your own. It’s only courteous to reciprocate you know.”

“…Callie. I’m… Callie.” She looked up again, then, following the pointing. Her shoulders visibly relaxed at the familiar outline of Soul. That meant someone was close behind, help would be here soon. “Guess you won’t need to keep me awake much longer” she joked, still not making eye contact.

“I still wouldn’t recommend letting go until your condition is stable.” Stygia watched the owl fly, then glanced back at their descendant out of the corner of their eye. “Callie… hm.” They focused their gaze straight ahead once more. “I would say that it is nice to meet you, but the circumstances are less than desirable— not that it matters much. Regardless of tonight’s outcome, we’ll have time to speak.” They took a step back and slowly kneeled to grasp the bow alongside Callie’s hand. The bow began to glow softly, which enveloped Stygia’s form. Their eyes became more vibrant— more than they had been in sweeps. “And by our hands, we’re intertwined. You have me here, now, at your beck and call.”

Callie was stunned to silence, tears starting to fill her eyes. Before she could find the words to reply, the noise of someone approaching could be heard, and soon Poppie was visible. The bow had stopped glowing by then, and Callie could only stare silently at her companion, then glance at her ancestor as those words sank in. Help was here, the moment needed her, but her feeling head made that difficult.

“Get help, heal, I’ll be here when you’re ready,” the last words she heard before everything crashed in, and the world went black.

[lostandfoundbook]

Chapter 36

Read it on AO3

Read it on Wattpad

Oliver's words rang heavily in her ears. He loved her, and he wanted to be with her, and he was sacrificing so much to say this to her. She felt that ball of anxiety radiate all the way up to her chest as she failed to sooth herself with deep breaths. She was sitting alone in her room, and there was nothing there to distract her. Nothing there to do but think. Her tears had dried and stained her face with whatever make up was left after she depleted herself of tears. 

She was going crazy. She was going crazy, and it was all Oliver's fault. He was the reason she was in the position she was now, for better or worse, and he was the reason she was going absolutely insane. She couldn't handle her own emotions, and the only reason she wasn't crying anymore was because of how dehydrated she was. She felt like an idiot. 

She was interrupted from her spiral by a ringing sound. It was her phone. She wasn't kidding when she said she didn't get calls often, so the sound really shook her out of the trance she had brought herself into. She dug around her table a bit to find the phone stuck in her purse. She fished it out and looked at the caller ID. It was her sister. What was she doing calling this late at night?

"Hello?" she warbled out as she answered the phone. "Alex! Sorry for calling you so late. I just got engaged." Her sister spoke out, sounding cheerier than ever. It only put Alex in a worse mood. "That's great, Ev, I'm so proud of you" she lied out into the phone. She couldn't care less about how her sister was doing. She was doing better than Alex, and she always would be. That was her issue with her. 

"I really just wanted to catch up with you. You used to always be awake at these hours when we were kids. I've been so busy incubator a little bun and growing my own family, there has got to be something happening with you. What's up?" Alex let a sigh out from her throat that latched onto the edges of it. It was rough and gravely itself. "Oh, no. Is everything alright?"

Alex bit her sisters head off. "You know what, Everly? I don't understand why you're pretending to be so happy go lucky when you had the same exact shitty life as I did. You have the same shitty parents, and yet you turned out just fine. I'm not great, Ev, and I'll never be great. I don't get how you do it. It's bullshit. It's all bullshit." She could feel her teeth gritting together as she finished off her rant. 

Her entire life felt unfair. She was dealt one hand after another of bad news and despair, and she was expected to keep pushing on through life without a second thought. She was done with that, and she was done in general. She didn't want to continue the ruminating, and she didn't want to continue the fighting, but it was the only thing she knew at this point. She was lost in her life, and in her soul. 

The other line was silent for a few moments before Evelyn replied. "I'm not, Alex. I'm not doing good. I'm managing, but I'm really fucked up because of what happened to us. It's not like that goes away overnight, and it's not going to just fix itself. I'm doing okay right now, but it's a day by day process. I have PTSD, Alex, and I see a doctor for it. You probably should too. What's going on? Are you okay?"

Her sister's tone didn't sound judging like Alex had expected it to be, and it didn't sound rude in any manner. She sounded concerned, and like she wanted to be there for her. The experience was foreign to Alex, and she didn't understand the quick change. Maybe it was the doctor her sister mentioned? Everything was muddled in her head. She released another sigh.

"I don't know, Ev, okay? I feel like my entire life is a fucking mess right now and nothing makes sense. I don't know who I can trust, and I don't even know if I should be talking to you right now. It's a lot." She replied back into the phone. She sat down on the bench on the side of her bed and wiped her face clean of whatever residual dampness was left over.

"Well, you don't have to trust me, but I'm here for you, Alex. I want to fix our relationship. My therapist said it would be good to try to amend the people I've hurt in my past, and that includes you. You were just an innocent bystander in all of this, Al, and I never should've compared you to her. Addiction is.... hard. I'm sorry I didn't understand back then. I wish I could say all of this to your face."

Alex could feel her heart breaking into even more pieces at that. It hurt her to know that her sister wanted a relationship with her too, because she didn't know if she could follow through with that. There were so many hurt feelings, and she didn't know if she could ever address them properly in a way that was useful. She couldn't put herself aside for longer than five minutes to see the bigger picture, or maybe, that was the issue.

Her life was expanding. She was becoming an aunt, and her sister wanted a relationship in her life. She was testing things out with Oliver, and he too wanted more. She couldn't take any more of him than he was physically giving her. It would be too much to ask. Could she really take even more? Could she take even more of him when he's already given so much? Food, security, a place to stay, clothes on her back, and now his love? All of it was too much.

"Listen, Everly, I'm really glad you're apologizing, but there's so much going on in my life right now. I don't know when, or if, I'll ever be ready to meet up with you again. It's been so long, and so much has happened. I'm so busy now, and I've just got so much scattering through my brain right now. I don't know if it would really be a good idea to meet in the first place." Alex said her piece and felt the load on her back lighten a bit. 

Talking to her sister was nice. She quite enjoyed it, and found herself being able to unwind a bit. She understood where she was coming from, and she was starting to sympathize with her. She could imagine her sitting on the other line, her hair pulled up into a bun like she used to when she was younger, excepted now she was more mature, and she was pregnant. Her swollen belly probably stuck out from her shirt, which had probably been replaced with maternity tops.

She was living her own life, and it was nothing like the life her parents had lived. She had broken the cycle of karma, and Alex was the only one left in the past. She needed to move on, and she didn't know how. She clung heavily to the words her sister said next. "You're trying to do better, too, Alex. I can tell. You haven't swore me out like you used to, and you picked up my phone calls both times. You're accepting my words to a certain extent, and I'm sorry that your life is so messed up right now."

Her sister let out a breath of air before she continued on the other line. "I wish you would feel able to talk to me more, because I want to be there for you. I want to be able to make it up to you one day, even if it's a really slow process. I know you don't like change" She finished off with a small laugh. This elicited a smile from Alex herself. 

"I don't know. I just feel like I can't accept anyone into my life anymore. Not after what mom and dad did, and not after all the other shit that happened. After I lost my baby, nothing was ever the same. Nobody ever stayed. Everyone left, and I didn't know how to cope with that anymore."

Everly finished her sentence for her, and repeated her sentiments from earlier. "You turned to drugs, I know. It wasn't your fault, I understand that now." Alex could feel herself having to bite her tongue. She got that Everly understood now, but it didn't change the way she felt about the situation. She was shamed and ridiculed for years, and it wasn't until recently that she felt accepted and safe enough to get clear. A reason to get clean. 

It made her heart hurt even greater. Nothing about this conversation was helping her. It was like a ton of bumps in the road leading all the way up to a big downhill drop. She wanted to escape from this. From everything. She didn't know what else to do. She closed her eyes tightly and bit her lower lip until she tasted iron. "What do you think your therapist would think about me running all the time?" Alex asked out as she released her lip and stood up.

She had made a decision. Unless she was given some kind of sign, she was going to leave. She couldn't stay here. Everything reminded her of Oliver, and everything about Oliver reminded her of Everette, and her parents, and all the other things she would have to talk to him about. She wasn't ready for it, and she couldn't be the person to break his heart. She couldn't say it to his face.

She was going to have to leave the hotel. "Well, she would probably say that you need to slowly confront your fears. Take it a day at a time, and just accept what's coming your way. If you have all the tools to cope with what's going to happen, then you don't need to worry about the future. It's going to be okay. There's no need to run." She paused for a minute. "Did that help at all?"

Alex sighed in discontentment. It didn't help her. She could hear the advice a million times, but it didn't help her. She could see her future laid out before her like a path on a road, and there was a big wall leading to a dead end up ahead. There was no future here. There was nothing to prepare for, besides the slamming screeching halt of the car smashing to pieces. His heart, that is. 

"Yeah, thanks, Ev. Can I call you later?" Alex lied into the receiver end of the phone. "Of course! You have my number." Everly replied back before the line went dead. Alex slid her phone into the pockets of her shorts and shook her head. She needed to pack. If she was going to leave, she needed a set of clothes she could wear. They were her clothes at this point, right? Oliver wouldn't mind if a few tank tops and shorts were missing? 

She walked into her closet and rummaged around for a duffel bag. There were all kinds of things in here that she never expected. It was a massive walk in closet that bordered on it's own room with a giant dark brown island sitting in the middle. The entire room was made out of a dark wood, and it smelled like perfume from all the times she had gotten ready. She soaked in the scent of the room one last time before she located the bag.

She unzipped it and started shoving clothes in by the handfuls. Just enough for a couple of weeks, until she could get herself a job. She had a lot of skill. She could apply around the theatres, and maybe they would pick her up with the hotel on her resume. She zipped the bag closed and hauled it out of the room, where she was met face to face with Avery. It was a silent little closet, so people could easily slip into the room without her knowing, much as they did.

Avery was no one special, but she did put Alex on edge, startling her. "I didn't hear you come in!" Alex spoke out as she tossed her bag onto the bed. "Oh! Yes... I was just checking up on you. You've both been....quiet since yesterday." She had a look of worry on her face. She was wearing a white blouse with a frilly collar, with another pencil skirt. the epitome of fashion and business professional.

"I'm fine." Alex lied out. "You're going somewhere?" Avery responded, pointing towards the bag. It was as if the girl could read her thoughts. She wasn't fine. She could barely keep herself together long enough to stop crying. "Yeah." She replied out, turning towards the bag she just lobbed towards the bed. "I'm going to visit a friend. You don't mind?"

Avery shook her head and walked over towards Alex's bench and sat down. "I don't mind, but I think you're running from something. From someone. Why don't you talk about it with me?" Alex sat down beside Avery and pursed her lips. "What is there to say? He said he loved me." Avery didn't seem shocked. It was likely that Oliver told Avery long before he told Alex. She knew this, as well, and didn't let it weigh down on her. 

Avery was Oliver's friend. Oliver trusted Avery. Alex wasn't going to be there for Oliver when she left, so it was probably for the best that they had each other. They always had, and Alex couldn't get in the way of that. Avery tilted her head to the side and seemed to be analyzing the girl. "And that's a bad thing?" She asked out, staring at the make up stains across her face. "Yes!" Alex responded, shaking her hands in front of her as she did so.

"How come?" Avery replied back, leaning across the edge of the end of the bed. She seemed to be taking in the information of the situation the same way a viewer watches a TV show or the way a reader analyzes a book. It was logical for her, not emotional. Alex stood up with an exasperated sigh and pointed around the room. She could feel her emotions welling up in her chest again in the location where she thought they had run dry. 

"What do you mean, 'because'?! Look at everything he's given me! I can't keep taking and taking and taking without giving. I feel like I'm carving pieces of myself away just to be with him. It's like I have to die and rebirth myself just to breath. I don't understand what's happening to me, Avery!" Alex had said it a little louder than she had meant it, and she could feel the tears beginning to form in her eyes again. She tossed her hands out to the side in a shrug.

"That's love, Alex. It hurts, sometimes, but that's how you know it's happening. That it's real. Have you ever considered the fact that you deserve to feel loved and accepted, as well? You don't allow yourself to rely on others, ever, and it might be to your own detriment."

The tears began to spill over her cheeks, and she could feel the heat of the liquid on her face as it poured down. She let out a small sob before replying. "I don't know, Avery, that's the problem. I don't know him, and he doesn't know me. We think we do, but we never actually talk. He barely knows who I am. How am I supposed to love somebody I can't even be myself around?"

Avery nodded her own head in a solemn motion. "Of course you feel that way. Look at how you grew up, Alex. You were raised to hide yourself away, and to constantly run from things. How can you expect yourself to be so open and accepting of new experiences when you can't even confront yourself? I don't mean this as a dig, but you have to look introspectively to think about what you want. You can run from Oliver, but you can't run from yourself. Not forever, at least.

She continued. "Listen. Why don't we just go back to my room for a bit and talk? We can talk through this. He doesn't have to know if you don't want." Alex found herself looking at the girl sitting at the foot of her bed, and instinctively, she just nodded her head. She felt exhausted. 

* * *

Entering Avery's room was like entering a completely different building entirely. It was entirely white with black accents, and everything seemed to match her. The entrance had a nice walk way with a table where she set her bag down as they walked in. Past that was open area space with a lower lofted ceiling. Back in the corner was a dining table and a kitchenette, with a big open window space out behind it. 

Off to the left, the complex opened up more and the ceilings raised up high. This was where the living room was, and was where Avery directed Alex towards. Across the walls were self made art pieces, and Alex could tell that Avery had painted them herself. "Your place is so beautiful." She remarked as she passed through, and wiped a hand across her eyes. They were damp again.

She hated crying. If she were being honest, she hated showing any emotions. It was a moment of weakness she didn't like to revel in, and it made her feel like an idiot. It could've been from all the times her parents belittled her and yelled at her, but maybe it was the fact that she didn't like the reason she was crying. Over a boy. She felt like a cliché. "Thank you" Avery replied back as she sat on the couch and motioned for Alex to join her.

She sat down, and noticed the lushness of the couch. It was softer than it looked, and she sank right into it. She wanted one of these couches for herself... or... maybe she didn't, because she wouldn't be able to afford it soon. If she went through with her plans, then she would only be left behind with 50 thousand dollars. It sounded like a lot, but to live off of it, it wasn't. 

Nobody in her fanbase would understand. She couldn't talk to her PR, and she likely couldn't fix her career after this. Not after it had been entangled so heavily with Oliver. How does she move on after him? After being tied up so woefully with this man? She closed her eyes and let the emotion of the situation hit her. She was really considering running, again. For the millionth time.

"I think I have to leave the hotel, Avery. I don't know if I can stay here." Alex finally said, breaking the silence. "Alright. And what exactly would you do after you left." The ginger haired girl asked back. This stumped Alex. "What? What do you mean? Most people ask where you would do, or ask why you're leaving. You're asking me what I'm going to do?" It seemed like an obvious question. She was going to live her life the way she intended to. She was going to get back to theatre, and she was going to start directing more. She would get a job. She might even be happy, if she let herself.

"Yeah. I'm asking you what you're going to do. Are you going to turn to drugs again? Because you could always do that here." Avery seemed quizzical in the way she spoke, as if there were some secondary reason for Alex wanting to leave. Some bigger picture she didn't yet understand. "It's not like that, Avery. I feel like I'm suffocating here." Alex's voice hitched as she spoke, and she could feel the tears rearing their heads back in. 

She wiped at the corners of her eyes as she continued to talk, smearing more make up. She could feel her pulse begin to race as she talked. "I can't open myself up to Oliver. He doesn't understand me. He thinks he does, but there is so much to me that he doesn't understand. He can't know what it's like to sit up every morning waiting to see if your parents are going to be cognizant enough to say goodbye to you before you go off to school. He doesn't know what it's like to have everybody looking at you like you're a failure, and like you're just a repeat mistake of your parents."

No matter how much she wiped, she couldn't stop the tears from flowing. Once she had gotten it all out there, she couldn't stop the flow of emotions. It came tumbling out like word vomit looking for a place to land. None of it came out softly, and she couldn't help the struggled sobs that left her mouth. If she hated crying before, she hated whatever was happening here. Avery reached out and put a hang on Alex's shoulder.

It was that small act of comfort that caused Alex to fully break down crying. "I just can't do it, Avery." She wailed. It was a tormented cry, and she couldn't help but hug into the girl as she drew her closer into her chest. "It's going to be alright, Alex. If you have to leave, you have to leave, but you will always have a place here at the hotel. I don't want you to think that you're running away from us forever." She pulled away and looked Alex in the eyes before wiping her hands across her cheeks the way a mother would her child.

She wiped it on her skirt before drawing Alex into another hug before pulling apart completely. "Let me get you some water. You're probably dehydrated at this point." Avery stood up as she talked, and walked over to the kitchenette. Alex took a deep breath into her chest and blew it out, attempting to release the leftover emotions. 

She reached back into her pocket and pulled out her phone, looking for Benji's contact. If she was going to be staying with anyone, it was going to be Benji. She trusted him the most, and he was always there for her in the past. He had his own history with Oliver, so he has to understand where she was coming from. It was all going to be okay. She slid open his messages and typed one out. 'hey? can i stay with you for a bit? i dont want to talk about it' 

She slid the phone back into her pocket before Avery returned with the water, and a bag of make up wipes. "Here. These are both for you. It's getting really late. I really don't think you should go anywhere tonight. It's already 11pm, but you can stay here on the couch if you want, or we have a pull out bed upstairs in the other room, if you wanted to stay." Alex took the glass of water and took a sip before setting it down and grabbing the wipes.

"The couch is fine, thank you. I just can't go back in there tonight. I'm sorry." She replied before dragging the make up wipe over her face and removing the left over crumps of eyeliner and mascara hidden across her face. "Don't apologize to me, you have nothing to apologize for." Avery replied before beginning to walk away from the girl. She did have something to be sorry for, though. When Oliver realized she was gone, it was going to break his heart. He would easily be able to connect his declaration to her leaving. This was going to be the hardest on him.

[magiclwritings]

The weight of Apollo's arm around his waist was truly more than he could deal with at that moment. Though he made no gesture to stop him from touching, Isaac went completely rigid feeling Apollo getting closer. This was just like it had been back in college. All the secrets and strange happenings. Only this time the problem was sitting a room away, drooling all over himself. He supposed that was better than an entire fiance and wedding just waiting at the drop of a hat. But Isaac kept his gaze forward and merely smiled at Oliver because he didn't trust his own voice not to betray him at that moment.

Cass didn't dare reply to him when he'd caught the tone in Oliver's voice. But he couldn't deny that Apollo had a point. While the other two didn't know what they were up to, it was entirely possible that it was something they would do. But why a child? That was what he couldn't understand. Of all the crazy things to happen or even be possible, a child seemed far too much a risk. His mind was racing with possibilities and what ifs. "He only said it was crazy and he couldn't believe something like this was happening." He quickly interjected, taking Apollo's point to detour both Isaac and Oliver off this subject as smoothly and quickly as possible. "I think anyway."

He'd slid himself behind Oliver and brought his hand slowly up the center of his back. "I almost didn't recognize it." He told Apollo and the other two. Which was a complete lie. His grandfather would have been insulted to hear either of them say it was just a stupid language. A strong, noble language. Just as their dancers. "I guess that's my fault for not keeping up with it." He felt a little laugh accompany that but he was too busy tangling his fingers through Oliver's hair just then. But what if he's right? Cass glanced over at Apollo, being careful to avoid Isaac at all costs in that moment. "But maybe you're right. We might be able to get something he may not be willing to tell the both of you." He turned and leaned in to kiss Oliver's cheek and sighed. "If nothing else perhaps we can at least make some use of the toy store Uncle Ollie has seemed to acquired today." He teased and drug Oliver behind him and out of the kitchen before he could actually protest. He was damn glad for it too. The blond drew in a deep breath but it did little to slow the trains and trains of thoughts no littering his head and he and Apollo couldn't discuss in private. He doubted they would the rest of the night at this rate.

The door swung shut behind the two and it felt as though the walls and swallowed them. Isaac turned on Apollo with fury glaring in his eyes. There had always been an understanding since the beginning. Cass and Apollo were sort of a package deal. Where one went, the other followed. And for a while it had been fine but at some point, Isaac had hoped that need between them would have died down. Especially with both he and Oliver in the picture. Both relationships flourished but then there was just always what that was between Apollo and Cassio. Isaac wasn't sure if it was jealousy but there was always just something, some part of Apollo that he would never have. And Cass would. And it irritated him into his very soul. "Wha' the fuck was tha'?" He asked so abruptly he damn near startled himself.

Isaac sniffled slightly, settling into his own body without Apollo's warmth against him. It stung, and given the rest of their day, all he had wanted was just to take this slow and figure it out without involving everyone else and their nine aunts twice removed. Instead, there were at least three, possibly four if Apollo had found a moment to get a word out to his sister, that they now had a toddler in their possession that was calling the both of them dad. "You tell me wha' ya said to hi' righ' now Apollo o' I swear I ..." He trailed off, feeling the fury rushing through his veins and he drew in a deep breath, calming himself for just the briefest of moments. "I will no' allow secrets. I don' know wha's goin' on wi'h this kid bu' you will no' keep things from me." He felt how cold his gaze must have been before he continued. "Especially no' if this has somethin' to do wi'h her o' your family o' the blonde in the otha room." He paused, feeling his mouth go dry as he spoke again. "Wha' did ya say to him?"

“I can’t imagine they stayed in touch with her after…everything,” Apollo explained, crossing his arms over his chest after Cassio let his hand go. It was an assumption at best. Everything during that period was intense and generally destructive to the two families. Apollo hasn’t been in contact with his parents since. He imagined it was the same for her. “Her parents were just as strict about a pureblood marriage as mine were. Theodore hasn’t mentioned a dad other than referring to both Isaac and myself as his fathers, so I can’t imagine she’s married. If she and I didn't get married, having a child out of wedlock wouldn’t cause a lasting rift between her and her parents.” 

Apollo opened his mouth to answer Cassio, but Isaac beat him. He looked between the two most influential people in his life and felt the thick tension in the air. Of course, he knew the two were cordial with each other because they had to be, and he knew the tension between them mostly came from Isaac, as Cassio really couldn’t be bothered. It was something Apollo had always avoided discussing with Isaac, hoping it would just go away one day. Apollo would have had that conversation if he had known all of this would happen. He wished he had because Isaac was going to be fucking furious in a moment. 

Because Apollo had to talk to Cassio, it couldn’t wait, and he knew without a doubt that going off into another room with the blonde would send his boyfriend over the edge. So he did something slightly just as wrong. 

“Ya ne znayu, kto yeshche znayet.” Apollo did not look at Isaac as he spoke but felt his chin leave his shoulder. He did not look back at his boyfriend; there was too much of a crowd to see his face. Instead, he watched as Cassio’s gaze snapped at him. “Mozhet byt', oni poslali yego ko mne.” Every inch of Apollo felt guilty for using Russian to communicate with Cassio, to keep Isaac out of the conversation, but it was imperative. He couldn’t just talk about their actual employer out of in the open. Learning Russian was something stupid for them as teenagers. A way for them to speak in private while in a crowded room. They hadn’t used it in years. Until that desperate moment, Apollo had forgotten they had done it. “Ya khochu poiskat' yego vospomin-”

“Some would consider it rude to speak in another language when others who don’t speak it are present,” Oliver cut Apollo off, coming to stand next to Isaac. He looked between the two of them, hands on his hips. He nudged Isaac with his elbow. “Wouldn’t you agree, Isaac?” 

Apollo then turned to face Isaac and yearned to reach out, wanting physical contact to ensure he was okay. Isaac wouldn’t cause a scene in front of them. No, he wouldn’t display a weakness like that in front of Cassio. “I didn’t mean anything by it,” Apollo said softly, reaching to wrap his arm around Isaac’s waist, his attempt at testing the waters. “It’s just a thing we did growing up. I don’t speak it often, and I haven’t in years, actually, but when I’m overwhelmed, it helps me center myself sometimes, you know, thinking about the words and dictation. Quiets the brain.” Always the smooth talker, always the liar. “If you and Cassio sit with him for a bit, maybe you can see something we didn’t, but I wouldn’t waste any time. He ate his weight in pancakes, and I’m sure he’ll pass out from all the carbs soon.”

[sluttywonwoo]

pretend || j.ww x reader

Summary: reading thirst tweets with your co-star/boyfriend’s best friend makes things a little tense

Warnings: swearing, smut mentions (18+)

Word Count: 1.8k

a/n:  originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark )

Masterlist

The sound of Mingyu cracking his knuckles next to you sent a shiver down your spine, making you cringe instinctively. You turned to glare at him and leaned away from the noise.

“I hate when you do that!” you groaned.

He smirked. “I know, that’s why I like doing it.”

You looked over at Wonwoo, who was sitting across the room with the crew, and pointed to Gyu. 

“Can you tell your best friend to stop being annoying?”

“Can you tell your girlfriend to stop being dramatic?” Mingyu retaliated.

“I’m not picking sides!” Wonwoo shouted back and held up his hands in surrender.

You let your jaw drop. “I’ll remember that, Jeon.”

“Baby, I-” Wonwoo started to defend himself, but fell silent when the producer got up from her chair and approached you and Mingyu who were sitting behind the camera. 

“Which one of you wants to take this?” she asked, holding up a large insulated jug full of paper strips. 

“I’ll take it,” Mingyu offered and set the cup in his lap. 

“What a gentleman,” you said, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. 

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” he muttered, “because you’re so fucking annoying.”

“Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

The producer gave you both a sideways look. “Are you guys alright? Should we take a minute before starting?”

“No, we’re fine,” you assured her.

“We don’t actually hate each other,” Mingyu added, “this is just how... we are.”

She didn’t look any less concerned, but nodded anyway. “Okay, well remember what your director said about playing up your chemistry to promote the show. And when we call action just give a quick slate and start reading the tweets.”

She walked back over to her spot next to the cameraman and took a seat before looking over a checklist that had been handed to her and writing some notes on it.

“Nervous?” Mingyu whispered to you as you both waited for your cue.

“A little,” you admitted. “You?”

“I’m a bit on edge,” he concurred. “Mostly because your boyfriend is about to watch me read filthy comments about you on-camera.”

You glanced over at Wonwoo who gave you an encouraging smile and a thumbs-up. “He’ll be fine. How bad can they be?”

From a distance, the producer you had just spoken to called for everyone to be quiet on set and signaled the cameras to start rolling. You perked up and straightened your dress, waiting for Mingyu to take the lead. 

“Hi guys, I’m Kim Mingyu.”

“And I’m y/n y/l/n.”

“You might recognize us from our new Netflix series, Breaking Curfew, where we play opposite each other in what you might call a... complicated romantic relationship.”

“We’re enemies with benefits,” you summarized. “And today we’re here with Buzzfeed to read thirst tweets about each other.”

“Ladies first,” Mingyu said and held the cup out to you.

You closed your eyes and sifted through the strips of paper with one hand, selecting one at random. 

“Okay, this one’s about you. ‘Kim Mingyu has the prettiest eyes’.” You grinned as you watched your co-star’s cheeks turn pink. “He’s totally blushing right now! We haven’t even gotten to the good stuff!”

“Thank you very much to whoever tweeted that,” Mingyu said and cleared his throat. 

“I agree with this person,” you continued, “you do have really pretty eyes.”

“Aw, thank you, y/n.”

“You’re welcome.”

“My turn.” Mingyu closed his eyes and rummaged around the cup before picking one. “‘Someone tell y/n y/l/n that I’m single and I get a discount at Olive Garden if she ever wants to let me take her out on a date’.”

You chuckled. “I do like Olive Garden.”

“She’ll get back to you on that one, mate,” Mingyu said quickly and let the crumpled piece of paper fall to the floor. 

You took that as a sign to move on so you reached into the jug and pulled out another tweet.

“Oh, this one’s about me again. ‘Y/n y/l/n scissor me challenge’.” You clapped a hand over your mouth in shock and thrust the slip of paper towards Mingyu.

“You know what, props for being so bold. What do you think, y/n? Are you going to take them up on the offer?”

“I’ll think about it,” you managed to choke out, sending Mingyu into a laughing fit. You fanned yourself with your hand as you tried to recover and motioned for your co-star to read another one. “Your turn.”

“‘Kim Mingyu and y/n y/l/n are my dream celebrity threesome,’” he read. “What a compliment, don’t you think?”

“Oh, for sure,” you agreed and winked as you held your hand to your ear in a call me motion. 

“These are just getting more and more vulgar, aren’t they?” Mingyu asked. 

“I don’t know that anything can beat the scissoring one,” you pointed out as you fished another tweet from the bucket. “Another one about Mingyu, okay. ‘I wanna suck Kim Mingyu’s soul through his dick then spit it back in his face’.” You blinked at the piece of paper in front of you in shock, scanning back over it to make sure you had read it right the first time. “Jesus... christ.”

Mingyu smirked and nudged your shoulder with his. 

You ignored him and pointed a finger at the camera in disgust. “I cannot believe you made me read this with my own two eyes. I could have lived my entire life without seeing those words in a sentence together!”

“I think that’s the best compliment I’ve ever received,” Mingyu countered, running a thumb along his jawline cockily. 

“No, I have beef with whoever tweeted that now.”

“You’re just jealous that I like this tweet better than the threesome one.”

You sighed. “This interview was a bad idea. Your head is already so god damn big.”

Mingyu opened his mouth to retaliate, but paused like he had thought better of it and took a deep breath to compose himself. 

“Anyway, moving on.”

You watched as he sifted through the tweets and chose one from the bottom, reading it to himself and grinning slightly before reading it aloud. 

“‘Petition for y/n y/l/n to start an OnlyFans because I just know her tits are incredible. I can feel it in my bones’.”

You brought your hands up to your boobs self-consciously and laughed. “I don’t know about that, but thank you.”

“I’ve seen them,” Mingyu added nonchalantly, “and I can confirm that twitter user ‘geminisuns’ is correct.”

“Mingyu!” 

“What? Do you know how many sex scenes we had to shoot? We’ve seen each other naked plenty of times.”

You looked back over to the crew and made eye contact with the producer. “Do you see what I have to deal with?”

“Maybe we should take a quick break,” she suggested and motioned for the cameras to stop rolling. “Get a drink, freshen up and be back here in five.”

“Do you think they’re going to use that part?” Mingyu asked as he followed you over to the water cooler. 

“I don’t know, dude,” you sighed in annoyance, “but great fucking job. The whole world already thinks we’re boning.”

“I don’t know about the whole world.” You glared at him. “Wonwoo knows we’re not.”

Wonwoo. You had nearly forgotten that your boyfriend was there on set with you. You looked around for him, and saw him still sitting in his designated guest chair looking at his phone. You could only imagine what he must be thinking of all of this. You should probably say something to him. 

You told Mingyu that you’d be back and made your way across the room to Wonwoo. Even from a distance you could tell that he was upset. 

His knuckles were pale and his jaw was tight. He didn’t look up at you when you approached him. 

“Sorry this is taking longer than expected,” you said, brushing a stray curl out of his eyes. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmured in response, still not looking at you. 

You sighed and draped yourself across him, slinging your arms loosely across his shoulders as you leaned down to see what he was doing on his phone. He was scrolling aimlessly on Instagram, not even liking any of the posts. 

“If you’re bored you can leave,” you said curtly and stood back up. 

“I’m not bored.”

“You’re not even paying attention to the shoot.”

“Trust me, it’s impossible not to. I’ve been trying to tune it out for the past ten minutes with no luck.”

“Why would you not want to pay attention?” you demanded even though the answer was sitting right in front of you. “This is a big deal for me.”

Wonwoo swallowed and finally looked up at you. “I know, baby. It’s just- do you know how hard it is to listen to my best friend talk about doing all of these dirty things to you-”

“He’s my best friend too,” you pointed out in a quiet hiss. “The only reason we’re together is because of him.”

Sometimes you felt the need to remind Wonwoo that you had known Mingyu longer than you had known him. If Gyu hadn’t brought him to set all those times back when you were filming in the fall, you wouldn’t even know about each other’s existence. 

“I know that.”

“You’ve done interviews like this before,” you argued. 

“I know,” he repeated.

“Then why are you being like this?” He didn’t answer, so you kept going. “You know my bare ass has been on tv, right-”

“Don’t,” Wonwoo warned and grabbed your wrist.

You gasped and flexed your fingers gingerly in his grasp, challenging him. “Don’t what?” 

“Y/n,”

“Don’t... act like I want to fuck your best friend?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re enjoying this.” It wasn’t a question.

“Don’t pretend like I’d rather fulfill those tweets with him instead of you? Give the people what they want?”

You had to bite your tongue before you went any further and said something you might regret. Your words had already had the desired effect. You didn’t even have to look at Wonwoo’s lap to know that he was struggling not to get hard. 

You could see it in his eyes. The arousal that had turned the warm brown into black. The way he was looking at you told you everything you needed to know. You wondered if you would even make it back home before he’d break, if he would pull the car over on the side of the road and take you then and there. 

Your knees were weak at the mere thought of what you were in for later that night. Making Wonwoo jealous was admittedly one of your favorite pastimes, purely for selfish reasons. Possessive sex was arguably the best sex. The teasing, the hair-pulling, the choking, the face-fucking, all hit different when Wonwoo was reminding you who you belonged to. 

Wonwoo released your wrist from his grip and raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Are you finished?”

You shook your head and grinned. “Just getting started.”

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