#But yeah I think the main point is to be like. Look at all this cool stuff. Look how helpful it could be. Now look at how corrupted it is

[ma1dita]

asking for trouble

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader words:  7.8k prev -> when the curtains close | next -> as above so below summary: (post-TLT, compliant to TLO) The one where Luke's final wish is to see you. (He's himself again, and all he wants is to find out if the trouble was worth it all) a/n: non-descriptive mentions of blood and war, main character death. angst. a boyfriend that yall may or may not agree with. one chapter left after this!! i imagined the last scene to play out with luke in a room where they have the immersive exhibits at a museum

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[august 15th; camp half-blood kitchens, long island, new york — 9:49 pm]

Everything begins and ends with love if we are fortunate enough.

There’s a stillness that fills the air the night before what historians and future demigods alike will deem the Battle of Manhattan. It’s stifling—suffocating in the silence of the camp kitchens as you cover a sheet cake with blue frosting, piping the edges with a steady hand as you check the clock, time always ticking over your shoulder.

Almost lights out.

The circumstances are different now though, and surely no one will be able to sleep soundly tonight. Fate is hard at work unraveling the future, the gods and their spawn alike are preparing for war, yet you’re here putting sprinkles on Percy Jackson’s birthday cake.

It’s the most nonsensical thing you’ve done all week amidst the war preparations, taming the whirlwind of mixed emotions that shook camp in the days before. Perhaps it comes with the knowing that everything will change, and the only way out is through. Only the lucky ones get to go home after this.

“Are you really not coming with us tomorrow?”

Clarisse chuckles at your question from her position against the doorway, crossing her arms and watching you stick candles on the top of the sweet dessert. Her hands flex over her sleeves, tugging at the fabric like she needs to hide away from the rest of the world, “You make it sound like it’s a walk in the park instead of what it really is.”

“Is that why then?” You look up from your piping bag raising an eyebrow at her, “We need all the help we can get, Risse.”

“It’s a death wish. I don’t know how you do it grandma, but the world will keep spinning no matter if 5 shows up or not,” Clarisse mutters, rolling the words around in her mouth, “How do you do it? Knowing that he’ll be there…I-I don’t want Chris to put himself through that again. We’re going to lose anyway—something, if not everything.” 

You know that too.

There’s something ironic about how the children of war won’t be joining the fight of their lives, but Clarisse La Rue is as stubborn as a mule when she doesn’t get her way. Only something truly special would send her running to the battlefield at this point.

“A part of me feels obligated to be there and help fix it, Risse. This is the path I chose.”

She scoffs, her sneakers knocking against the side of the kitchen island. The daughter of Ares is wistful, hesitant… and nothing like herself tonight. You suppose conflict shapes someone like her like how insanity lines the essence of your being. Intangible, but the base of every choice—the driving reason connecting you to your godrents. 

“Yeah, I know that, but I still don’t get it. You don’t have to be here anymore,” she says thoughtfully, moving the cylinders of sprinkles around on the counter by height order, then by colors of the rainbow, “you could’ve chosen the easy life without all of this…I mean, if I ever got out of here alive, I wouldn’t look back.” The statement is sharp in the silence as if she’d attacked you with Maimer. Your eyes meet hers as if there’s a big secret she’s missing out on. You always look at them like that now, with a faraway gaze of a place none of them can reach.

“Who’s to say? Getting old and aging out of here is harder than you think, you know… College, rent, taxes…” you list off with every squeeze of the piping bag, spelling out Percy’s name with white frosting. Clarisse bites her lip, resting her chin against the palm of her hand as she watches you.

When she closes her eyes at night, she often dreams of being home in Arizona, dry heat prickling at her cheeks and dust swirling at her ankles. That’s what her future will look like, she thinks—and she’ll let herself be selfish if it means she gets what she wants. What do you dream of? Do you think about a future for yourself if you’re so worried about saving everyone else’s?

“But you still came back. Is this easier than that?”

Not easier, but familiar. Nothing you ever want comes easy after all. There is a comfort in walking the grounds of a camp counselor job you used to dread instead of filling out job applications; easier to you means fighting with the gods and slaying creatures of old instead of paying student loans and making rent. 

“I think you’ll find out that you do stupid things for love, Clarisse La Rue.”

She’ll never tell you this, but you’re the strongest person she knows. You’ve shown her that strength doesn’t always mean brain or brawn. Sometimes strength is loving someone without expecting anything in return, and the gnawing feeling in her stomach eats at her in an unsatisfying way—like Tantalus reaching for the grapevine, fingertips grazing the leaves for eternity.

Instead, Clarisse wipes down the counter with a Clorox wipe as you make your way towards the door, cake in hand. Tonight, she and her siblings will sleep with the knowledge that they’ll get to see another day. Call her selfish, sure—but that’s how she loves them. Alive.

“I still stand ten toes behind the fact that Michael Yew can be knocked down a fucking peg,” she mutters. There’s a small smile on her face and when she looks up at you, she sees your face is illuminated by moonlight. Clarisse hopes this won’t be the last time—silently praying to her father to extend his hand onto you.

“I’ll see you when I see you, La Rue.”

Whenever that is, she thinks. This is easier than a goodbye. What matters is showing up. What matters is that they try. That’s what she reminds herself as she turns off the big light and heads toward Cabin 5. 

Does any of that still matter in the end if they aren’t alive?

Her siblings are already asleep when she tucks herself into bed despite the music and laughter coming from 12. Light from across the way filters through her window, a warm glow cast across her face leaking through even when she shuts her eyes. It warms her, reminds her of the orange of the stupid shirts they wear, sunsets on Fireworks Beach, and the molten lava that drips down the climbing wall. 

Home might not be what she remembered it to be after all these years. Clarisse decides to sleep on it, hoping that when they wake, there’ll be something worth fighting for.

[august 15th; cabin 12, long island, new york — 10:08pm]

Camp Half-Blood is quiet as you walk through the dark forest, minding your step over the brambles and checking off your mental list of responsibilities before day breaks. The air is especially cool for a summer night, melancholy being your only jacket as you move on auto-pilot. Your fingers tighten around the tray you hold, pushing the door open to Cabin 12 which currently houses most of your campers. It’s lively and bright in here—you would think they’re all celebrating a Capture the Flag win instead of being sent off to their deaths for the greater good.

Tomorrow, they’ll wake up soldiers.

The wood creaks beneath your boots and it’s drowned out by the sound of soft chattering and laughter, a few of them still scuffling over sleep spots, and then—”HAPPY BIRTHDAY PERCY!”

There are only enough people in here to comfortably fit in a few of the strawberry trucks tomorrow—some went home to their parents to avoid the chaos and some chose not to fight at all. And the ones that remain— all 40 of them, that is, are spread out on the floor in sleeping bags writhing like worms. All the whooping and cheering is accompanied by Michael leading his siblings in song (and Connor and Travis ruining it by chanting CHA CHA CHA!). 

Percy is just shy of sixteen now, but the sheen in his blue eyes still reflects the tranquility of open water and something tender that you saw in him when he came to camp at twelve years old. Later, through mouthfuls of cake and smears of blue buttercream on his cheek, the son of Poseidon looks up at you thoughtfully, “Is this a pity cake?” He tries to make light of the situation by acting like the fate of the world doesn’t depend on his life or death, and you take a deep breath. 

Even demigods fall victim to fate, and the gods still push on. But what of their children that fight for change in the world they set the rules for; their children that fight their battles for them and lose their lives for immortal beings that live forever?

“This is a birthday party, not a pity party, Percy Jackson. There's no pity for the damned,” you chuckle. Damned if we do, damned if we don’t. All of the world’s problems seem so permanent when you’re 15 years old. It’s just fucked up that his will actually alter the course of humanity.

“And if this is the end of the world, I just wanted to make sure we’ve told you happy birthday first.”

“Well thanks,” Percy mumbles over a spoonful of buttercream, face reddening when Annie throws a paper towel roll at his face, “Hey!” It reminds you a lot of when you and Luke would fight in the dining pavilion, chicken tenders and mac n’ cheese flying through the air, and apples cut just the way you like.

You blink. 

It all boils down to him or Luke.

“Wipe your face, Seaweed Brain!”

Percy rolls his eyes, smiling down at his plate regardless of the weight he carries upon his shoulders. The more you want to live the more you have to lose, you think as you brush your knuckles against a spot of frosting he missed. You don’t look at the blonde boy and see a hero of the Great Prophecy—still, you see him as the little boy who was mesmerized by you conjuring strawberries on his plate on his first day at camp, innocent and honest. 

Looking around the room wistfully at that thought, you start to see the memories of their childhood blanket all of themlike ill-fitting clothes; it’s all you can notice. The feeling is so big it swallows you whole. Annabeth is still the little girl who’d rattle off obscure facts from Snapple bottle caps from her time on the road, drawing pictures of buildings with your eyeliner after sneaking into your room. Silena still makes blush out of berry juice and would call you about boy problems as if she’s not a child of the goddess of love herself. Will is still the boy who sings as he lights up fireflies and draws smiley faces on bandages. Katie, the girl who makes flower crowns for your birthday and eats strawberries with you soaked in morning dew. You look around and see scraped knees that you’ve kissed better, sleepy eyes you’ve sung to, and hearts you’ve kept warm—this is your glory, your greatest achievement being the family you’ve found in the woods of the Long Island Sound.

“You see it too?” Grover mumbles, nudging you and you sigh, squeezing his shoulder. Sometimes you forget the satyr is older than you; he stands tall as your pillar of support, unwavering in his promise to protect these kids. 

“We’re getting old, man.”

“You’re only 23. There’s so much left of you,” he deadpans. Laughter comes out of you in waves as you shake your head smiling.

“And what a pleasure it’s been to grow up with you.” 

Grover bids you a good night as you walk up the stairs to your old room, phone in hand while you dial a familiar number. Your boyfriend answers before the end of the first ring.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d still be up!”

Settling against the windowpane near your bed, a soft smile graces your features and you realize he’s not there to see it. It’s always been easy with him—Dex was unbelievably kind, and he had a heart that he’d share without you having to ask. He was unlike any man you’d ever encountered before, and over the past year and a half you found it easy to love him. 

Worst of all, he’s utterly devoted to you. At least every part of you that you were willing to give him, even if it wasn’t all of you per se. Plus, you saw the ring in his desk drawer last week.

It was too…good to be true.

You recognize that this was your way out like Clarisse said, your escape from the turbulence that was your life as a demigod. But it was hard to believe that you were deserving of it. He’d never know of the ichor that runs through your veins, and the life you’d have to leave behind to truly be with him. You suppose every love you’ve ever had was sacrificial. You just wonder if because of that, easy makes it hard to feel real.

Maybe if you survive this one you’d tell him the truth. But for now, he’s rambling in your ear about his sudden work trip upstate. Morpheus and Hypnos are already at work then, redirecting the city dwellers out of Manhattan. It must be later than you thought already and in a few short hours, Apollo will be shining his rays across the Island for what you hope won’t be the last time.

“I wish I was with you right now,” you mutter in a hushed tone, and you hear him laugh breathily through the static sound of the phone. It’s easy to imagine him twirling the telephone cord between his fingers, flopped over the tiny loveseat you went halfsies on with your first big paychecks. The apartment you both moved into after graduation is more accurately a shoebox—but it’s yours, and the love you have for it is immeasurable in comparison to the square footage. You hum, listening to the sound of his voice, “Maybe I can catch you before I go—stop by and say hi before I drive up.” 

He won’t. By morning, you’re not even sure if he’ll remember you—all traces of Greek gods and their counterparts wiped clean from memory until it’s all over, whenever that is. You’re mindlessly walking in circles around your room, bare feet padding against the floorboards. He repeats your name and you realize you haven’t been paying attention, the tail end catching your ear, “Hmm?”

“Or you could come to me. I’m sure your dad won’t mind. It’s time I meet him, don’t you think?” 

And out of anything happening tomorrow, that especially sounds like a nightmare so you make a noise of disagreement, “I can’t. You know I can’t, honey. I’ve got…” your voice trails off as your lilac eyes land on a faded photo strip thumbtacked to your wall, “unfinished business to deal with.” There’s nothing left but inky silhouettes on the sun-damaged paper, two past lovers huddled together. But you know what it’s a picture of. Rye Playland, you and Luke at fifteen, cheek to cheek and covered in wisps of cotton candy.

“Mm. Sounds important. Does your unfinished business have a name?” 

Dex sounds playful now, teasing despite the silence on your end of the line. A beat passes, and then another, and he can hear the sound of your hands rifling through the things in your desk drawer. The dragon scale necklace is cold in your palm. 

For good luck, you think. 

It’s been a while since you’ve worn it—keeping it safe in the only home you and Luke shared, and as soon as it touches your neck, you feel a little less empty inside. It feels like a safety blanket, protecting you from whatever might come next. You almost feel guilty to be relieved.

Thumbing the cord absentmindedly, you mutter, “You don’t even know the half of it, Dex.” 

“Maybe one day you’ll tell me.” Sometimes, it’s like he knows— Dex must be the ivy that grows over the walls you’ve built up around yourself, and he can see glimpses of who you try to hide behind your stone-cold resolve. He wonders if you’ll ever tell him about the names you call out at night— an indistinguishable language he’ll never fully understand. He wonders where you’ve gotten your constellation of scars and where your mind goes when you sit next to the window and stare at the skyline.

Oh, he wonders.

The glow-in-the-dark stars are faded now on the ceiling when you look up at them, fighting to give their last bits of light. You wonder too, if there’s any fight left in you; a bit of Luke always remains—he’s everywhere you look. You can feel him as night falls upon New York, bidding you goodnight before it crumbles tomorrow. 

“Maybe. Good night, honey.”

Dex yawns into the receiver. You know his feet are kicked up onto the coffee table even though you always tell him he shouldn’t, and that his glasses are already off for the night. You really think he could be a nice guy to end up with, all things considered. Dex was the epitome of normal, and after almost two and a half decades of existence, it’s quite evident that you are anything but. 

Normal might be quite nice.

He yawns again. Hypnos must have reached his window, “I love you, you know that?”

“I do. Me too. Good night.”

It’s the truth. 

You love this man and the spaces he’s filled within the chaos of your life. You love all of him, from the perfectly normal way he makes breakfast for you every morning (and laughs when he burns the toast), and takes the train to work at a middle school in Harlem (“6th grade ELA takes a lot out of a man,” he jokes). He picks you up from your job at the therapist’s office downtown if you get out too late, as a gentleman would (though you’ve fought monsters that he’d scream at the sight of). Once upon a time, normal was exactly what you used to wish for.

There’s a moment where your breath hitches and you sink against your pillow and you wonder if he would love all of you—demigod and all. Could he get used to this— summers at Camp Half-Blood with chariot races and gladiator-style fighting, pegasi and harpies roaming the grounds, and watersports with woodland nymphs? Dex never even questions your green thumb or how Pollux made him hallucinate your dead brother when he came to visit (“It’s what Castor would’ve wanted! The full twin-terrogation!” he insists. You convinced your boyfriend he got food poisoning that night). Could you come clean about knowing how to slay a chimera, or why you never get drunk, and have the stamina of an Olympian (the athletic kind, but not too far off from the truth)? 

But it shouldn’t be called coming clean. That makes it sound like you’re ashamed of who you are—which you’re not. You’ve just been hiding this part of you from a normal human that you love very much.

Gods, is this how your dad felt when he was seeing your mom? 

Somehow insanity has always felt bearable—love, however, has always been such an ordeal.

The phone bounces onto your bedspread once you hang up the call. There is no more time to worry about playing a part. Tomorrow, everyone comes as they are—whatever happens after will be a problem if you reach another day. Fate has its way of making itself known, you know that by now. Blinking, you take a deep breath, and very intentionally, with your feet criss-cross applesauce, you pray—for what, you still try to figure out as the minutes tick by. 

Better late than never.

Here at camp, you were always the last one up after lights out, anyway. Tonight of all nights shouldn't be any different.

[august 16th; 34th street and herald square, manhattan, new york — 9:17 am]

“Where do you think you’re going, mister!”

Your little brother flinches, immediately turning tail and walking across the deserted street to meet you in the middle. He’s taller than you now, craning his neck down to look at your angry glower as you thrust a finger into his face, “You’re sticking with me.”

“Jake said he’s taking 9 and 12 to the Holland Tunnel,” Pollux calls out, shuffling his feet and you punch his arm hard, “OW! —It’s what Percy wants.” He swats your hand away for good measure, his arm guards clanking against yours when he dodges another swing at his head.

“We are Cabin 12, you shithead. I’m not letting you out of my sight for a second.” Your staff is heavy against his shoulder and Pollux can’t help but let his gaze wander to where Jake Mason and the other children of Hephaestus are waiting for him a block over. Manhattan is a warzone, and the difference between fighting empousai and fighting his older sister right now is very similar in theory—hard to do alone. The tunnel is halfway across the city from the Empire State Building—if something were to happen to either of you…

"M’not here to fight,” he sighs, “with you at least. I need to do my part, sissy.” The old nickname is an arrow through your heart and you grab Pollux’s hand, “I just want to make sure you’ll be okay. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I couldn’t get to you in time.”

“HEY 12! You coming, or what?”

The two of you look towards the small army down the block, both of your hands intertwined like grapes from the same vine. You’re not sure if you can let go; you’re not sure if your father could lose another child. But Pollux’s face is almost set in stone—he’s never been more sure of himself. Your lip wavers, forcing itself into a stiff smile and he softens at the sight, “I’ll be okay.”

“And if you’re not? Then what?”

He shrugs, “Then… then I’ll get to see Castor.”

You nod, breathing shakily, and flinching when Jake calls for Pollux again, “Well. If you are okay…You come find me. After this is over, you come straight back home to me. You got it?”

Pollux hugs you, hard—the force of all of him sending you sprawling into his arms and it knocks the wind out of you. As the twins have grown, it’s been rare for them to show you any affection. They’d usually recoil or whine about how mushy their older sister is, and each time it makes you laugh. But right now, you stand there gripping onto his t-shirt, breathless; the ringing in your ears gives way to words he mumbles into your hair, “I love you,” he says, in case you didn’t already know. 

Just in case this is goodbye. You take it in for a moment longer, running a hand through his blond hair and cupping his cheeks as you finally step away, “I love you. I’m so proud of you, P. We all are.”

“Haven’t done anything yet,” he grins, backing away slowly, a skip in his step as he nears the small troop of Hephaestus kids. You wave them off, blowing a kiss as they band together and turn in the other direction.

Why is it that you can only be proud of someone if there’s something to prove it?

You think about all 40 of your campers fighting for their lives in the greatest city in the world. The sound of hellfire, roaring monsters, and screams that could only come from your kids. Fatigue wears you down with each swipe of magic towards enemy forces, monsters writhing in pain at your feet, demigods reduced to insanity and blood-curdling screams. It disgusts you even more so that no one can witness the weapon you've been forced to become.

After all, no one knows any of you were there. Life continues on outside of the bubble containing the Battle of Manhattan. And only the ones fighting will be able to remember this. Only you will remember the blood you spilled to wrestle for your destiny.

The rest of the city continues to sleep, safe from the people who swore to protect it.

[august 18th; empire state building, manhattan, new york mount olympus, in the sky above new york??? — 5:22 pm]

Running up 492 flights of stairs was another type of hell you didn’t expect to put yourself through, but it was faster than waiting for the elevator to Olympus. It’s quiet besides the steady rush of blood pumping in your ears, your boots slapping against the tile to reach your friends who might be in danger at the hands of someone you know well. But it’s too late to give up when you’re so close—you realize you’re praying to anyone who’ll listen as you push through the pain of always being a little too late. 

“Ugh!”

Air pierces through your lungs painfully as you trip up a landing, hands clawing against the banister. Have you been running in place this whole time, quick to start but hard to follow? Your lip quivers, eyes trailing up the stairwell faster than your legs can take you. 

Whatever the outcome, you’ll be better for it, you hope.

It’d be easier to give up. To stay away and not watch Percy fight for his life against him. You dry heave as you press your head against the wall, wondering if it’s worth not seeing what will become of this wretched prophecy. It’s hard to survive loving the villain when the rest of the world is dying because of it. Your legs feel like jelly underneath you, and not a single soul in Manhattan knows you’re here—until you feel the strength of an old traveler lift you up and revitalize your soul. Looking down to see your boots retie themselves tightly, the feeling in your chest reminds you of him. Everything leads back to Luke, and you think wherever he is now—Hermes knows that too. 

“Thank you,” you mutter. He’s handpicked your prayer through the tempest that hangs over Manhattan so that maybe your hands will be gentler in smiting his lost son. You find yourself with the nerve to run up the last dozen flights of stairs, pushing past the entryway to see Thalia Grace under a statue of her stepmother, “THALIA!” You barely make it to her fallen form before her free arm tries to push you away from the rubble.

“Get out of here! I mean it—” Thalia spits out your name through gnarled teeth and bones crunching under the heavy hands of Hera. The statue lays over the bottom half of her body, holding her legs down like how one forms a fist, and the daughter of Zeus pushes through pain and millennia worth of her dad’s karmic debt in giving her life—the essence of being a forbidden child still has a hold on her, even now. 

“I’m not gonna…leave you…”

With everything in you, both demigod strength and sheer desperation, you push at the unmoving stone and your fingernails begin to splinter from the pressure. 

But you know what it feels like to get left behind. 

Desolation slowly sets in your bones, a hollow feeling that spreads through your core as sweat rolls down your cheeks, and when you sniff to wipe it away, Thalia’s lip quivers. She’s writhing in pain and everything is coming to an end down the hall from where you stand. 

“We’re so close, Grace. I’m not giving up on you when we’re this close. I need you in there with me so you just hold on, okay?”

The marble is cool to the touch under your moist hands, and her face is fixed in a grimace as she looks up at you and sees you for who you are—another demigod who was never given a fair chance at fate but with a spirit of a hero waiting for the right chance. Thalia coughs before slapping your hand away, “LISTEN TO ME! I’ll be okay. He needs you to be there. We’re almost out of time!” 

You barely register your body moving as you get up and start to run, looking back at Thalia by the time you’re at the top of the landing. There are no words that you could imagine to string together when your eyes meet hers in the distance that separates you two—the feeling of grief bearing down as you both know the end is near and inside those doors.

As you turn back around, you take a moment to wonder if you might’ve had different people in mind for who’s up there waiting for you.

[august 18th; the hall of gods, mount olympus, the sky above new york— 6:48 pm]

Finally pushing through the heavy doors of the Hall of Gods, your eyes burn like salt in a wound as you travel toward the center to see three figures laid out on the marble mezzanine. There’s a cramp in your calf by the time you reach them, your legs giving way as you skid to a stop in front of Luke’s corroded body. The pain doesn’t register for you, split skin going numb as you stare into the eyes of a storm you fell in love with almost ten years ago. 

A stranger is no longer wearing your love’s skin. Percy and Annie’s eyes feel heavy against your back as they watch you sigh in relief, a landslide of emotion rolling off of you when you see he’s still breathing, even faintly, as if he waited for you to make it back to him.

“It’s Luke,” Annabeth chokes out, “the scythe transformed into Backbiter and I knew it was him. He was fighting for us.” Her voice makes you flinch, makes this more real—it echoes as the wind carries it through the hall. Without a doubt in your mind, you know it’s him by the way he looks at you with tired eyes, soft and amber—the light pushing away the shadows and he reaches out for you. His skin is paled by the River Styx, face weathered by the Titan as you gently guide his head onto your lap. A pathetic cry slips from your mouth when you realize there’s more pressure in the fingers he brushes against your cheekbone versus the one holding the blade embedded in his chest. 

Fuck, what do you even say? 

He’s dying right in front of you and you can’t think of a single word to say.

The clock is ticking and every breath of his comes out weaker––he speaks before you can find the words, breathing out, “I missed you,” like it was a relief to say it. And it all comes spilling out like a secret you’ve been safeguarding since the day he left— a mix of your tears and his blood smearing across your cheek as he reaches out to wipe them ever so gently. You find yourself smiling in the face of death itself—smile even if the both of you can feel death’s hand on him saying that time is finally up because the act of meeting each other here in the middle makes the years you’ve gone without him worthwhile. 

The reunion is also the loss; a nasty habit you’ve both fallen into over the years. But this time, Luke’s finally able to give you the world he wanted to see just before he leaves it.

You clutch him close without intending to let go, purple eyes scavenging for confirmation that this is your Luke, the one who pushed you through the brambles of the North Woods, wind in his hair and mischief in his smile. He’s citrus and musk, cunning smiles, something sacred kept within cabin 11, calloused fingers pulling at your t-shirt, and the voice out of tune at nightly sing-a-longs—and he loves you still. 

Loving you was the only thing that never changed.

“Shhhh, don’t waste your energy. The gods will…” you swallow a sob despite yourself, “I…my dad’s going to be here soon. He’ll help us.” There’s a lump in your throat that carries the weight of everything unsaid. Who would help you now that everyone else is getting what they wanted—a brighter tomorrow without the villain? But the prophecy unveils itself so cruelly, and the one who hurt you is the hero in this story, just as he’s always dreamed. It so happens to be at the cost of loving you.

Luke’s eyelids flutter like butterfly wings descending softly. You press a kiss onto his forehead like you used to while waiting for him to fall asleep. The chuckle that rumbles his ribcage is faint against the hand of yours that’s holding him together and the war is finally over and no one even knows that besides the four of you in this room.

“I'm running on borrowed time,” Luke wheezes, “I think my life ended the day I left you.” His thumb weakly traces the tear tracks cascading down your face, and he’s reacquainting himself with every feature of yours while he can touch it—to hold and be held by you after so long feels like drinking up ambrosia, his last bits of strength telling you what you’ve always known. 

Is there a word stronger than love?

One that would explain how close and how far you feel to him at this moment and you don’t want to say the wrong thing but there are no wrong words when it comes to the right person. Hoarsely, through wavering lips, you chuckle, “Then it's time to stop running, baby. I’m here now.”

It’s exhausting to carry the weight of tomorrow in your arms and to know it’ll be made possible only by letting him go. You’re holding him too tightly, claws sinking in to feel—to ground yourself and keep him tethered to this reality, just in case a different answer falls out of the sky. 

But falling with Luke Castellan, falling for him, has been nothing like you wanted. You've said your goodbyes more often than you can count. 

This part is just about letting him go.

“I think I’m doomed,” he laughs, coughing harshly. Blood soaks his airways, retribution for the lives he took. It drips out of his mouth and you still look at Luke like he’s asked you to marry him. What a soft, funny thought. 

Love must be more violent than war, to feel like this—to know he’s wrecked your world and still come out the other side smiling at him like he put the stars in the sky. His fingers are slipping out of yours as you hold onto the knife that keeps him here and Luke mutters, “I’m so s-sorry. You deserved better in this life.” You hear Annabeth sob from somewhere behind you but you can’t look at anything else but his eyes, not daring to miss another moment of him.

“Can’t be all that bad,” you say with a watery chuckle, wiping his mouth with your thumb. There’s more of a mess now with your feeble efforts but the action comforts you more than him; caring for Luke is something you cannot unlearn. 

“This life gave me you. I don’t want to know anything else. Do you hear me?” 

You want Luke to know this—to understand that even if this is how fate has handled the both of you, there is no other hand you would hold but his.

“You’re my whole life, Trouble.”

“I know, angel. I know. It’s always been me and you.”

You and me, he mouths, an echo of himself left to relay the message as his eyes lose their warmth, empty now and unseeing. And then he's home in your arms again as you hold every broken and bloodied piece of him together until he's no more. The parts of him he leaves behind blur into you, rivulets of his lifeforce weaving through your fingertips even when you put pressure against the knife you both hold, hands cradling the spot under his armpit, and to Percy and Annabeth it looks like you're holding his heart, clutching it between your fingers.

Protecting it until his last beat—when he finally gives it over to you. 

It was always yours, anyway. 

Before, in the in-between, and now after, his heart is yours.

Time stops for Luke Castellan, the man born to die, in the Hall of Gods that day— in the arms of his partner and in the presence of his little sister and truest friend. 

Lips against his ear, no one tries to pull you away, even when the gods of Olympus march in expecting a battle to only find a dead hero and a story that needs to be told.

You’ve never seen him so still before. 

Luke’s always been the one with something to say, hands fidgeting to hold yours. Still, you hold his hand even if he can't feel it, still smile even if he can't see you, still whisper words of devotion even if he can't hear it. By the time you feel your father’s hands on your back and hear Percy say, “We need a shroud. A shroud for the son of Hermes,” you imagine that he’s miles away from where he lays motionless, dead weight in your grasp. Nothing can pull you away from the mantra you set to remind him that he’s yours even when he leaves again. Luke’s soul will soon journey where you cannot follow, and you whisper to him in the stillness amidst the noise, “I love you, I love you, I love you…” 

When the Fates come to collect the body, their ancient hands spin around the two of you as they unweave your hold on him. You weren’t given a choice—his material body dissipates in front of your eyes and you swear you feel the tug from deep within your core as you watch them float Luke away. It’s so much different now from when he used to fly around your room with his stupid winged Converse—even the gods avert their eyes when you let out a sob that shakes the ornate hall. Hopelessly you watch, sat down on the marble and unable to move or follow—as if maybe he’d still answer to your sweet nothings, and not leave you hanging once more. You slump against your father’s side, catatonic and at a loss for words—they leave with him, floating away into the distance.

Humanity’s biggest problem and resolution has always been love—this was never a story about the lack thereof.

[august 18th; death, pre-judgement? — the seven minutes after]

The path that Luke Castellan takes after he dies is most peculiar and unlike any path he’s traveled before. And yes, there have been several times that he’s come close to death—under Ladon’s claws in the Garden of Hesperides, and when he relinquished his physical self by bathing in the River Styx, but neither of those times where he’s cheated his way out can compare to the real thing. 

He once read in one of Annabeth’s textbooks that there are seven minutes of brain activity that wanes in your consciousness before you die. There’s a distinct thrumming in his ears when he comes to, and Luke discovers he’s completely in the dark with no sense of direction and most importantly, no visible way out. The old him, were he still alive—would be panicking by now, short terse breaths and sweat upon his brow. Old Luke would have fidgeting hands and eyes that rocket around for an exit. But this Luke, whoever he is—whatever he is now, finds himself eerily calm. Everything glows in a vignette, and familiar scenes materialize before his vision, a kaleidoscope of color and your shrieking laughter surrounding him in the familiarity of your happiness with him—it feels like lifetimes ago. He realizes he’s smiling. 

Versions of you swirl in the space he stands in, taking up space wherever he can look, wherever he turns—you’re there. 

And he remembers.  

Memory is a choice after all, much like love is. And no one can take that away from Luke Castellan except death itself.

The scene flickers for a moment, eyelashes fluttering against morning light peeking through the windows of Cabin 11.

It’s Luke’s first morning at Camp Half-Blood after the storm that brought him and Annabeth there. You’re standing over him with a half-beaten pillow and a menacing grin that grows as he spits out feathers. It’s his first impression of you, Kool-aid tipped hair and hands shaking with a crushed Redbull can in your other fist.

“Good. You’re still breathing. Wasn’t sure for a sec.”

A voice yells out your name and you make a run for it, barefoot and giggling and looking back at him every few steps—his breath catches in his throat again like how it did on the first day you both met.

The scenery changes and he’s sitting next to you on the dock of Canoe Lake.

“I dare you.”

“No way,” he hears himself say, and then he sees you fling algae at him in ropes, cold and slimy that it makes his voice crack, “He—ey! You’re gonna get us fired and it hasn’t even been a full day since we got the job,” he says, clearing his throat as you bite your lip.

“What’s one last hurrah?”

“You’re always gonna be Trouble, aren’t you?” he says, getting annoyed by the orange fabric that temporarily blinds him. Chuckling, you pull your shorts off and look back at him, eyes glinting in the moonlight and he can’t help but ogle at the rest of you, gulping hard. You catch him staring and he averts his eyes, looking back at the treeline to see if anyone’s come to find you both. A resounding splash echoes in the silence between you and Luke turns back to find your head bobbing visible above the water and not much else.

“I double-dog dare you, Castellan.”

He jumps in.

The dark blue of the water turns into light reflecting the pinks and purples of the sky above Montauk Point at sunset.

“We’re alive! Told you we’d be fine,” you yell, clicking your seatbelt off and jumping out of the car before Luke can even put the hatchback in park. It was his first drive anywhere—you’ve finally graduated from looping around Farm Road.

“Hey wait up!”

He calls out your name, but you’re already kicking up sand as the distance between you grows until he locks up the car and chases after you. You didn’t stand a chance, slipping and sliding in the sand as the son of Hermes quickly grabs you around the waist and throws you over his shoulder as you scream bloody murder. When he sets you down, your arms are looped around his neck and you’re smiling against the pink and tender scar on his cheek.

“Think we can break into the lighthouse before the guards come, angelface?”

The sound of crashing waves turns into chattering cabin counselors and when Luke looks around again, he’s at the Big House, with everyone else pushing their chairs in and walking towards the door. He holds his hand out and you grab it with no words or instruction—like a key nestled within its lock, exactly where it’s meant to be. 

“Last order of business, kind of…” Your dad drones from his spot near the windows. Luke tries to let go of your hand but you don’t let him, “Don’t panic,” you mutter.

“This… fraternization won't become an issue for all of us, will it?”

Everyone’s frozen near the doorway, staring at your intertwined hands. Luke clears his throat and turns toward Mr. D, “I’ll see to it that it doesn’t. Sir.”

You could almost hear a pin drop, and no one knows what to say next—not even Mr. D.

“Yeah, I’ll keep Castellan in line.”

That’s the confirmation everyone was waiting for; a mixture of groans and the clinking of drachma fill the air as Chris holds his hands out and takes his spoils of victory with a charming smirk on his face. Clarisse throws the coins at his head.

“I feel like I should take a bow or something,” Luke snickers into your ear, before placing a kiss against your temple.

You’re still in his arms and still look good in orange, but when he pulls back to look at you again, you’re both hovering above the ground near the dining pavilion. His knees are shaking when his winged Converse flap madly underneath you—a flurry of uncoordinated movement that makes you want to piss yourself.

“You’re lucky I have a strong core, babe,” he grins—and he’s thrilled at the fear on your face as you clutch onto him for dear life, one arm around his abdomen and the other around his neck, both legs latched around his waist.

“I swear to the fucking gods if you drop me, Castellan…”

His right foot jerks in a slightly different direction, making him laugh as you squeak.

“Castellan, huh? That scared, Trouble? Not gonna drop my baby.”

The wind around you whirls like a tornado as Luke tries to show off, getting higher and higher until, “LUKE!”

He catches you by the fingertips again and now there’s sand beneath your feet. You’re still spinning in his arms and his mom is singing along to a song playing on the radio you brought to Westport Beach. May claps lightly and you tug her up with a soft smile, “Come on Miss May! Take your son out for a spin.” Tugging at the damp white t-shirt you wear over your underwear, you take a seat on the picnic blanket and watch them with a smile you haven’t given Luke in years.

“Mother-son dance,” May whispers in his ear, humming a few notes of the wedding march.

He closes his eyes and soaks it all in, slightly swaying.

That thrumming is in his ears again, a steady beat against his chest and he feels it everywhere—a pounding rhythm that cannot be ignored. He opens his eyes and you’re snuggled against each other, tangled beneath the sheets. You’re still asleep and Luke just…watches you before the morning starts (whenever this is) and it all has to end. You’re breathing against his neck, lips slightly agape as warm air brushes his pulse. He moves hair out of your face and you pull him in unconsciously, skin to skin with no atom of space left between you. 

Luke blinks. 

You’re in your college apartment.

He blinks again.

His childhood bedroom.

Again, please.

In Cabin 12.

Please, just one last time.

You’re drooling against his neck in his tiny bunk in Cabin 11 and the noise is getting louder now—a static sound that morphs into the sound of your voice throbbing like a heartbeat, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

It’s the last thing he can hear before he has to go.

_ 

“I wanna see your eyes / Is it a crime to say I still need you?” - Adrienne Lenker

[miwiheroes]

Dropping Byler Evidence Every (Other) Day Until Season 5

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ Day 23: Airport Hug(s) . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

I haven't done one of these in a little bit because I'm just getting moved back in at university but I'm glad to be back! This time, we are looking over Mike and El's airport hug vs. Mike and Will's.

These two scenes are extremely different. It is clear which one the writers and directors gave more importance. AKA which one is supposed to be the main focal point of the scene. If you think that the meeting scene in the airport is supposed to be all about Mil*ven and how cute their relationship is, I'm sorry but you are not watching the same show as I am. The airport hug between Mike and El and the airport 'hug' between Mike and Will are supposed to convey these messages:

Something is wrong with Mike and El's relationship and they are trying to push it down, meaning it will come to the surface later.

It has something to do with the way Mike's acting.

Something has changed internally within Mike between Season 3 and Season 4.

This something is to do with Will.

You are supposed to notice Mike's actions towards Will more than his actions towards El.

This is how I will structure this ESSAY ASS POST

Number One:

Something is wrong with Mike and El's relationship. It may not seem this way from the beginning, in fact, it seems very much like they are back to the way they used to be at the beginning of S3, apart from the making out- um yeah, so it all seems well. But that's the thing.

Developed relationships with depth, relationships that the audience need to crave for, do not get presented in this super cutesy, teenager-y love way. Unless there are other stakes. In Stranger Things, it is apparent to us that there is always something off when characters seem Too Happy. Something will go wrong, things won't stay the same as they were at the beginning of the Season. I really don't know how to describe it, but basically what I'm saying is, even in their cute moments, the audience needs to sense that something is off. Even if it's very minute.

The kiss is cute. But that's all it is. There are no stakes behind it, nothing bad has happened yet, which is why an audience who likes the couple already may feel happy with it. But a GA may be able to sense that this is unlike other kisses or meetings in ST. The kiss is not after a fight, the kiss is not after a long time of pining, the kiss is not an 'i can't lose you' kiss, the kiss is not a 'relief after a long time of fighting through something' kiss. It's just a kiss.

You may be thinking this is a bit harsh, but the GA also know another thing. El is lying to Mike. Her letter foreshadows problems for their relationship instantly.

From her letter, we know that she is lying about having a good time at school and in California. The audience may then believe that there must be something wrong with their relationship if she feels the need to lie. Especially El, the one who always says 'Friends don't lie' and got annoyed at Mike lying last season.

So this kiss isn't supposed to be cute. It's supposed to be tense. Because we are supposed to know that she's lying to him, and narratively, the truth always gets revealed.

Therefore, the audience is supposed to take away from this interaction not that Mike and El are a cute couple, but that El is trying to hide stuff for a reason.

And the audience quickly gets their reason why:

Number Two:

The reason why El's been so weird with Mike, the question that is ringing around in the audience's head get's half-answered with the next sequence.

The audience should know that something is wrong based on the way that the happy music suddenly shifts to something far more morose, and El looks hesitant before faking a smile. JUST as she fakes her happiness in her letters.

Therefore, the audience sees it is somehow Mike's fault she feels the need to act this way. So far, we have ticked off two problems in their relationship: El is lying to Mike, and El seems upset at the unfeeling note Mike made. These must be linked together.

I also think that the audience see that it is signed in such an unfeeling way, despite the kiss. This means that the kiss at the beginning no longer seems genuine at all. So obviously, the audience must be wondering where this is all coming from , and why Mike is upsetting El.

Number Three:

Something has changed internally within Mike. The time between Season 3 and Season 4 has drastically changed Mike's actions towards both El and Will. We know that suddenly Mike is being unfeeling towards her in his note, meaning that the rest of his interactions don't seem as genuine to the audience. This may be a different view they had from Season 3.

They have just been introduced to a change in El's behaviour towards Mike (she now lies to him), meaning there must have been a change in Mike's behaviour to have caused this. And this is all internal between seasons:

What changed?

Now, we should get the answer when we look back at the end of Season 3. Mike looks back at Will's house. He hugs his mom like he's numb and just realised something huge. The monologue over the top keeps saying how he doesn't 'want things to change'.

Later, in the apology scene in Will's room, we find out that Mike was afraid of losing Will, which is why he got mad at Will seeming standoffish.

SO WE GET THIS SCENE WHERE WE ARE INTRODUCED TO MIKE BEING SUPER WEIRD WITH EL AND THIS IS ODD SO HE MUST HAVE CHANGED AND THEN HE ACTS WEIRD WITH WILL SO IT ALL POINTS TO.........

Number Four:

The reason why he has changed with El is because of Will. The reason why he seems so unfeeling towards El yet so disingenuous and unlike himself is all because of Will. The way he acts, the way he writes notes, it all boils down to this moment in the scene.

Will is reason he's nervous. Will is the reason things have shifted.

If something has changed internally within Mike to clearly act differently enough with El to make her lie to him, AND something to make him act weird with Will, then they must be linked together.

Besides, if we want to go the super obvious, on the face of it analysis - Mike is simply nervous because his feelings have been realised. He doesn't want to let them show so he can keep up this disingenuous relationship with El. He just wants to seem normal. It all adds up.

Harking back to El's letter, she mentioned one thing about Will, and that was that he was painting something for a girl that he had never told Mike about. And Mike acts standoffish about the painting when Will confirms that it probably isn't for him. It's clear as day - he's nervous to keep up this facade, he's jealous that Will's not making paintings for him, and he's been scared of losing Will (confirmed later on).

I mean, this might be all well and fine. Mike might not be having an impactful scene with Will, after all--

OKAY I CAN'T EVEN TYPE IT OMG ONTO THE NEXT POINT

Number Five:

Mike's big problem has to boil down to Will. This is proven by the fact that we are supposed to focus on this interaction far more than his interaction with El.

First of all, it is important to note that the directors of the show are intentional with where they place extras during a scene. They have free will, and we an see their choices being made during the airport reunion.

In the first and last Milkvan kissing scene, the camera is focused on them, yes, but it is very busy. Watch the shippers try to edit this scene, the duffers really said. I mean, it was so hard to take a screenshot of them without a person in the way of the camera. This is not by accident.

Mike is wearing a visor, he's holding a bag so he can barely hug her, he's also wearing sunglasses inside?? You can't see his facial expression, making this seem even more disingenuous. Again, people are moving in front of the camera, it's very very busy.

It's supposed to be a little overwhelming. That is not a coincidence, they aren't filming in an actual busy airport. So so many extras walk in front of them during the whole scene, not just the kiss, but while they are speaking as well.

Compared to the scene with Will...

No extras pass in front of them, the camera is closed in on their facial expressions, making them very clear without obstruction what they are feeling. This tells the audience to look quickly! This is important!

This is why the main takeaway from this scene is not at all about how 'cute' Mil*ven are. It is supposed to remind you of the problems in Mike and El's relationship, introduce that Mike has changed between S3 and S4, making him seem disingenuous and wanting to seem 'normal'. And that this is all because of something to do with Will.

And based on the clues that he's repressing a lot of his emotions all of a sudden, he's heard that Will is painting for someone else, he's being unfeeling toward El because of Will for some reason..... Mike's problem is that he is trying to deny or repress feelings for Will.

Atp it seems too obvious to post.

[antinousletmehit]

Early palace because yea

—-

Y/n stood in Antinous’ chamber, arms crossed, her foot tapping furiously against the floor. “I want to go to the theatre.”

Antinous, lounging on his chair with his arms folded behind his head, barely spared her a glance. “No.”

She let out an exaggerated groan. “Why not?!”

“Because it’s dangerous.”

“It’s not dangerous!” she snapped. “People go to the theatre all the time!”

“People who aren’t my little sister,” he replied flatly.

She clenched her fists. “I’m not a child!”

Antinous finally looked up at her, smirking. “You’re literally throwing a tantrum like one.”

Her face turned red with frustration. With a loud huff, she stormed toward the door. “You’re impossible!”

Antinous raised an eyebrow. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To sulk about how unfair my life is!” she yelled dramatically before slamming the door shut behind her.

Eurymachus, who had been watching the entire exchange from the corner, burst into laughter. “Oh gods, that was beautiful. She’s in her teenage rebellion phase.”

Antinous rolled his eyes. “She’ll get over it.”

Meanwhile, across the palace…

“I want to go to the theatre,” Telemachus insisted, arms crossed.

“No,” Penelope responded firmly.

Telemachus groaned. “Why not?!”

“Because it’s dangerous.”

“It’s not!”

Penelope arched an eyebrow. “The streets are filled with reckless men and thieves. You are the prince of Ithaca, Telemachus. You can’t just wander off alone.”

His jaw clenched in frustration. “You never let me do anything!”

“Because I actually care about your well being.” With an exasperated sigh, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

A few hours later

She peeked around the corner, glancing up and down the hallway to make sure no one was watching. She was halfway through sneaking toward the main doors when she suddenly spotted another figure creeping from the opposite side.

Her eyes locked on Telemachus’s

His eyes locked onto hers.

There was a long, silent pause.

“…What are you doing here?” She whispered suspiciously.

Telemachus huffed. “None of your business.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You got banned from the theatre too?”

His lips pressed into a tight line.

She smirked. “Pathetic.”

He scowled. “You’re here too!”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but I actually have a plan to get there.”

Telemachus crossed his arms. “Oh really? What’s your brilliant plan?”

She blinked. “I was just gonna walk out.”

“…That’s the worst plan I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, what’s your plan, genius?”

“…I was gonna do the same thing.”

They both sighed.

Then, slowly, they looked at each other again.

“…You know,” she mused, tilting her head, “if we work together, we might actually make it out without getting caught.”

Telemachus hesitated, clearly weighing his options. Finally, he sighed. “Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

She smirked. “Deal.”

And with that, the two of them sneaked off toward the theatre, their temporary truce solidified by the mutual goal of proving their guardians dead wrong. Her and Telemachus slipped through the bustling streets of Ithaca, their excitement barely contained as they finally reached the theatre. The warm glow of lanterns flickered against the marble stage, the murmurs of the audience filling the air with anticipation.

As the play unfolded, they found themselves completely engrossed. The dramatic monologues, the elaborate costumes, the thrilling sword fights—it was better than either of them had expected. At one point, Telemachus nudged Pandora when a particularly ridiculous character tripped over his own feet, and they both had to stifle their laughter. By the time the play ended, the two of them were practically glowing with excitement. They walked side by side through the now-emptying streets, still giggling over their favorite parts.

“I told you it would be good,” she said smugly, nudging Telemachus.

“Yeah, yeah,” he admitted with a small grin. “It was pretty great.”

“I think my favorite part was when the king revealed he was actually the prince’s father’s long lost brother—”

“—No, no, the best part was when the fool tripped into the orchestra pit,” Telemachus interjected, shaking his head.

She snorted. “You would like that part.” They turned down a quieter street, still caught up in their conversation, when suddenly—

A rough hand snatched her by the arm.

She barely had time to let out a gasp before she was yanked backward, a strong grip pulling her against a man’s chest. She twisted, panic flashing through her veins as she looked up at the stranger—a rugged man with a scar across his cheek, his expression dark with recognition. “Well, well,” the man sneered. “I thought I recognized that face. You’re Antinous’ little sister, aren’t you?”

Her stomach dropped.

Telemachus immediately tensed. “Hey—let her go!”

The man ignored him, tightening his grip on her wrist. “I’ve got a score to settle with your brother,” he growled, starting to drag her away. “And I bet he’d pay real nice to get you back in one piece—” Before he could finish, a shadow loomed behind him.

CRACK!

The man let out a strangled gasp as a fist slammed into his jaw, sending him crashing to the ground. She stumbled back as the grip on her arm released, her heart pounding as she looked up, Antinous stood over them, eyes blazing with fury.

The man groaned, spitting blood onto the street, but before he could even think about getting up, Antinous grabbed him by the collar and hauled him up, slamming him against the wall. “You touch my sister again, and I’ll break every damn bone in your body,” Antinous snarled, voice dangerously low.

The man tried to speak, but Antinous punched him again, sending him slumping to the ground, unconscious. There was a long, tense silence. Y/n and Telemachus stood frozen, still processing what just happened. Antinous turned slowly, his furious gaze locking onto his sister’s.

She swallowed hard. “…H-Hey, big brother.”

His jaw clenched. “What. The. Hell. Are you doing here?!”

Y/n and Telemachus exchanged a look. Telemachus slowly stepped back. “Yeah, so, uh—I’m just gonna go—”

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere either, wolf,” Antinous snapped.

Telemachus winced. She let out a nervous laugh. “Sooo… you’re not mad, right?” Antinous looked like he was about to explode. As Antinous stood there, his grip on her arm iron tight, his voice boomed through the narrow street.

“What the hell were you thinking, y/n? Sneaking out? Running around the city with him?” He gestured toward Telemachus, who was standing awkwardly to the side, rubbing the back of his neck.

Whe whined, squirming in his grip. “Ow, ow, Antinous, you’re hurting me—”

“Good! Maybe that’ll remind you not to do something this stupid again!” As Antinous continued his furious tirade, a smug chuckle echoed behind them.

“Ohhhh man,” Melanthius snickered, leaning against a nearby pillar with his arms crossed. “This is even better than I imagined.”

Antinous’ glare snapped to him. “You.”

Melanthius grinned. “Me.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait—you told him?!”

“Damn right I did,” Melanthius said, smirking. “Spotted you two sneaking off, figured our dear leader would want to know his baby sister was running around town doing gods know what.” He tilted his head, amused. “Looks like I was right.”

She hissed at him. “You snitch!”

Melanthius gasped dramatically. “Oh, how could you say that? I’m just looking out for you.”

Antinous yanked her closer, his grip tightening. “If you think whining about Melanthius is gonna get you out of this, you’re dead wrong,” he growled. “What if that bastard actually kidnapped you, huh? What if I didn’t show up in time?”

She fidgeted under his furious gaze. “…But you did show up.”

Antinous clenched his jaw. “That’s not the point!”

Meanwhile, Telemachus was standing there like a prisoner awaiting execution, praying to every god that Antinous wouldn’t start yelling at him next.

Melanthius, still clearly enjoying the show, nudged him with his elbow. “Hey, Princey,” he whispered, “did she at least give you a good reason to risk your life for a night out?”

Telemachus sighed. “She said she was bored.”

Melanthius burst out laughing.

Melanthius grinned like a cat who had just cornered a particularly amusing mouse. He crossed his arms, rocking on his heels as he eyed her and Telemachus, who both stood awkwardly under Antinous’ burning glare.

“You know…” Melanthius mused, dragging out his words just to poke the bear, “it’s real interesting that you two snuck out together at night.” He smirked, eyes flicking between them. “Kinda romantic, don’t you think?”

Her face scrunched up in disgust. “Ew!” she gagged.

Telemachus stiffened like a board. “What?! No!”

But Melanthius wasn’t done. He gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “Ohhh, stars above! Could it be? The prince and the little menace, sneaking off under the moonlight? Watching a play together? Giggling about how good it was?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Sounds like a date to me.”

She kicked his shin. “Shut up, you troll!”

Melanthius howled in laughter, but before she could get another hit in, Antinous yanked her back with an even tighter grip. His jaw was clenched so tight he might crack a tooth, his eye twitching as he shot a deadly glare at Telemachus. “You wanna explain why you thought sneaking out alone with my sister was a good idea, prince?” he snarled, his voice dripping with venom.

Telemachus, already miserable, looked at the sky like he was begging the gods to strike him down.

—-

@simpformoonkight @xo-cuteplosion-xo

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters React to the Cosmere Femslash Prompt Generator

Happy femslash February! @gal-palanaeum has created a Cosmere Femslash Prompt Generator (here) which creates fun ships & scenarios to inspire you! Please check it out!

Me being me, I've created a bunch of randomly generated prompts to consider how Cosmere characters might react to them.

1. The Prompt: "Venli couldn't stand Palona at first, but then..."

Venli: [Looks expectantly at Palona] Venli: Well? What about you is going to win me over? Palona: Hmmm...well, there was a time my partner and I had a literal picnic during the onset of the world's first Everstorm--on the Shattered Plains. You know, the very place where the two storms were crashing into each other. Venli: ... Venli: Dammit, that IS really hot...

2. The Prompt: "If Shallan keeps looking so maladroit I'm going to end up scrying her," Tindwyl whispered to herself."

Shallan: [scoffs] "Maladroit"? I've never been maladroit in my life! Tindwyl: [calmly holds up a screenshot of Shallan sprawled out on the floor with her underwear showing] Shallan: T-That was on purpose! Tindwyl: Mmm-hmmm.

3. The Prompt: "Can't you be normal about Hesina for five minutes?" Jasnah growled at Palona.

Hesina: Oooh, so in this story, the Alethi Queen and Urithiru's economic powerhouse are fighting over me?? Hesina: What happens next?? Jasnah [who had been about to criticize the implication that she would tell any woman to be "normal"]: Well... Palona [who had been about to criticize the implication that she'd let any situation devolve to the point of growling]: Uh... Jasnah: Perhaps...Palona starts to expound on your virtues? Palona: Y-Yes, the words, "How COULD I be normal about such a woman" are surely coming next. Hesina: [eyes sparking]

4. The Prompt: "Watching Akane and Yumi kiss made the Midnight Mother feel so mean!"

Akane: The Midnight Mother...is homophobic? Yumi: W-We should make out harder to show her the error of her ways!

5. The Prompt: "Cord and Rysn were constantly trying to pinch each other, until something changed…"

Rysn: [Looks at Cord] Cord: [Looks at Rysn] Rysn: [Imagining sloppy make-outs] Cord: [Imagining her defending Rysn from a sudden pirate attack after which she leaps to safety with Rysn in her arms] Rysn: C-Can you imagine... Cord: H-Ha, yeah...

6. The Prompt: "Sylphrena nodded, looking over her plans. 'The only way to stay on the Wind's Pleasure is to break up Cord and Rysn,' she announced."

Cord: Uh, wow. Rysn: Dishonor Spren, more like. Syl: I-I'm sure it's one of those stories where you'd end up getting back together!!!

7. The Prompt: Eshonai and Vivenna walked hand in hand in the Nightwatcher's Valley, with their trusty havah nearby.

Vivenna: Now, I'm relatively new to this world, but isn't a "havah," like, the main piece of a woman's clothing? Eshonai: Among Vorin humans, yeah. Vivenna: So are we, like, strolling naked? Eshonai: On our way to see a dragon. Vivenna: Kinky.

8. The Prompt: "'Sure, I'm atop Gallant,' Radiant smiled, 'but I would leave it all behind for you.' // 'Even your spren?' Design asked, blushing."

Pattern: Mmmm, ditching your chaperone, Radiant?? Pattern: I know what that means!

9. The Prompt: "She was running out of time. If Queen Fen didn't act fast, she might lose her chance to ask Jaxlim on a date."

Jaxlim: Ah yes, this is told of in our ancient songs... Jaxlim: It is called "Old Woman Yuri." Fen: Is that...really in the ancient Listener songs? Jaxlim: [smiles cryptically]

10. The Prompt: "'I wish I could milk Azure and Jasnah,' Sylphrena said."

Azure: ... Jasnah: ... Syl: ... Azure: ... Jasnah: ... Syl: Although...you know, now that I'm thinking about it... Jasnah & Azure: NO

[fanfic-obsessed]

Rebellion of the bats

Ok, here’s another one that’s going to get a little wacky. As a reminder never look for canon here, for I do not know her. 

We are going to start today's madness with some build up before the main event. It is important to me that you understand that in this one, Tim Drake does not take after Bruce Wayne. Tim Drake takes after Alfred (feral planners, whose truest love and calling is to care for their loved ones, coated in a veneer of respectability). In fact it is Alfred who teaches Bruce how to prepare for any eventuality. 

And the Tim of this universe is prepared for any eventuality. Including having a plan for ‘Jason has come back from the dead, has been lied to, appears to hate the family, and is trying to attack me for taking Robin’.  So Jason attacks Titan’s Tower and is very surprised to find that, instead of beating up Robin, he finds himself being dragged back to that Manor by an excited Tim Drake (No matter how long or short after the fact, Jason is still not sure how they got from Jason wanting to beat up a teen to being convinced to come home). 

Jason, Dick, and Bruce all bond over the abrupt realization that Alfred and Tim are absolutely feral and that if either decided to go rogue the universe was screwed.  They also realize that it is part of their Vigilante assigned duty to keep Both Tim and Alfred from needing to take over the world.

This helps stabilize the relationships among the Batfam, this common goal.  So by the time Damian arrives, their relationships are much stronger. Bruce, Dick, Steph, Cass, and Jason each try to talk Damian out of his assassination attempts (more for Damian’s health than Tims). Tim, because Damian is now his brother and is 10 years old, allows Damian two assaination attempts without consequence. Damian’s third, and final,  attempt ended with a finger broken on Damian’s non-dominant hand…and no proof that Tim caused it. 

Because of this stronger, more stable relationship Tim was actually able to pass Robin on to Damian before the Darksied happened. Tim took up Red Robin with Jason’s approval. 

Darksied sends Bruce on his bounce through time. There are still rumblings of what could become a war for the cowl (including Cass, this time because grief can do weird things to people and I think she should get to throw her hand into the ring), but instead Tim finds the clues Bruce had been leaving. And this is where the biggest departure comes. 

Because all of the Bats are there, and they believe Tim. They have no reason not to (I will get to that in just a minute). In fact, they all treat this revelation as a relief and begin to work out a schedule for keeping up the Batman pretense until Bruce can be retrieved. 

Dick as Batman goes to the Justice League (during a JL meeting) with the news that Bruce is lost in time, and they need substantial Justice League resources (and realistically it would need to be substantial and/or unique resources, or Tim would have used WE industries or his own resources) to retrieve him. And look, Dick looked at none of Tim’s evidence so when asked how the Bats know, Dick as Batman answers immediately with ‘Oh, Red Robin said’. 

The other members of the Justice League glanced at each other. It is Diana that very gently brings up that Wonder Girl had told her that Red Robin had been very intent on cloning Superboy, trying to avoid outright saying that it seemed like Tim might have lost touch with reality in his grief. Everyone very kindly ignored Superman’s flinch at the mention of both his dead mentee and cloning. 

The Justice League gets to watch as Dick misses the point so completely that they can practically see it over the pointy ears of his cowl.  He actually perks up and goes ‘Oh yeah, he mentioned having Ivy check over his methodology for that. She said it looked good but her specialty is plant genetics’. Like that is not an objectively insane thing to say. 

From Dicks, and in fact most if not all people who spend enough time in Gotham, perspective Tim was not insane for his attempts to clone Conner. He had a plan to mitigate harm for innocents (potentially viable clones who were not Conner), was not attacking/involving other people, had another affiliated expert look at his work before he pushed the big red button, and he even stopped when it was pointed out that it would have been against Conner wishes. To a Gothamite that means Tim is practically reasonable in his 99 attempts to clone Conner. 

The Justice League can only conclude, after some carefully phrased questions, that the Batfam have unfortunately lost touch with reality due to grief, understandable grief but also very out of touch. Dick does not realize this is what is being thought, as he is just so relieved that they are on track to get Bruce back that he does not hear the incredulity in the questions, until a majority vote rejects the use of JL resources for the purpose of searching for the former Batman in time (it should be noted that The Flash-Barry- and Superman both voted to try. Diana abstained).  

We are going with the idea that it is more than just massive resources or expertise that the JL would provide, but some resource, item, or device, that is unique to the Justice League that cannot be procured by any individual member. 

So Dick has to go back to 3 family members (Jason, Cass, Damian) who have all had significant exposure to Lazarus water, which is known for emotional outburst overriding common sense, Steph the daughter of a supervillain (Arthur Brown may have been a d rate supervillain, he was still a supervillain), Barbara the all knowing Oracle (whose morals have adjusted to working with former Rogues) and her cadre of Birds of Prey, and possibly the 2 most frightening people on the planet (Tim and Alfred) with the news that the JL will not help them. This is also Dick, whose anger issues and need for revenge built Robin. 

The only restriction that Dick manages to get them all to agree on is that they will not make trouble for Superman, Flash, or Wonder Woman (Jason throwing his own support in no trouble for Diana). Then, with full and loving knowledge of what he was doing, Dick set them all loose upon the world (making it clear to the JL that Bruce is the only one who could reign them in). 

It takes six weeks before the decision to help find Bruce and retrieve him from the timestream is approved. In that time:

Cass and Steph become the rulers of a small country, ruling with an iron fist but enough morals that most of the populace loved them. 

Jason, with the Outlaws, managed to take out the League of Assassins (and incidentally managed to humiliate not one but three different Green Lanterns, mostly by accident). 

Damian met, became offended by, and dismantled a faux government organization in the midwest in possibly the most attention attacking way he could. 

Oracle wrote and released a highly tailored virus that released random ‘scandalous but not overall dangerous’ secrets on a schedule for every politician in the world. Her Birds of Prey kept Gotham running, along with Batman!Dick. At some point during this time the Joker ended up dead, but no one is admitting to who did.

Tim and Alfred did indeed become a major world power within the first three weeks. It wasn’t until week four that they gained nuclear power status, but quickly had a seat offered to them at the UN. They had just started considering if they should be expanding into the reaches of space when the JL capitulated. 

Bruce is brought back into a world where his kids are more feared than he is.

[theclownghoul]

Gratuitous

Opinion piece & analysis

I really hate how Jinx’s suicidality is portrayed in S2, largely in Act lll but we’ll talk about all of it.

In S1 we have about three moments (by my count) that show Jinx harming herself or trying to end her life. Hitting herself in episode 3, being careless with the staples in episode 7 and pulling the pin on the bridge also in episode 7. There is also a line she says to Vi “You’re the reason I’m still alive” in episode 9 which given other things she says in that moment could be interpreted as other ideations.

What makes these moments different from S2 episode 9? Well none of the three main writers were credited to those episodes other than the dialogue in S1 episode 9. Most of them are communicated through animation only. They also just feel different, they’re vulnerable, other things are the focus and her doing these things is just a reaction to those feelings. There was something to get from the scene besides a showcase of her pain.

Episode 9 of S2 is not that. It’s gratuitous, it’s a spectacle, it’s gory and somehow losing all its impact. There’s the music which is not what I’d call tasteful or subtle. It’s making an impression, wants to force a feeling or reaction. Make you sad or horrified and oh, I was horrified but not the way they wanted.

Even the way she digs her nails into her cuticles in S2 episode 8 isn’t really meant to show us anything about her. It’s meant to affect the audience.

In comparison I almost appreciate how people have read her pulling the pin in S1 episode 7 as trying to manipulate or take Ekko out too instead of being a completely clear cut attempt. Because it at least shows that there is enough going on with the character’s mindset that we can speculate on her motivations and how she’s reacting to all the emotions that came from fighting her old friend. If you look at her face it’s sadness and regret (S1 is also better at story through facial expressions since there was forethought). You’re free to have your own reaction, not the one that’s set out for you.

I have mixed feelings about her fight with Vi now and telling Vi that she’s okay to go out by her hand. It feels closer to the moments in S1 than later in episode 9. There’s more going on, we’re meant to consider multiple layers of both her and Vi’s feelings in the moment. It’s a non explicit parallel to the Bridge and does show a pattern of behaviour. It’s also not credited to any of the main writers.

The scene from the opening of episode 9 as a whole, is it romanticization? Heard differing opinions on this and I honestly don’t know where I stand. One one hand it shows how empty she feels and how everything has come crashing down despite trying and it communicates her emotions through the images and music. On the other the scene is meant to be visually appealing while also showing her detonating the bomb very explicitly, like you see her blood. I’m sorry but this is some 13 reasons shit. None of this is helped by the fact that Isha was killed purposely to get her in this state.

I had way more emotions about the actual story in the scene with Ekko in S1 and the scene with Vi in episode 3. Originally I liked this scene but I just can’t really remember why exactly, especially when compared to the earlier ones. The other scenes aren’t lacking in any way when it comes to showing her despair so I’m lead to believe it’s a stylistic choice in line with S2’s music video focus.

Then there’s Ekko… what did he do to deserve this? I’ve said before that if he had to he would save her but the reason he had to was because this scene sounded like a good idea. Saw someone say why is it his responsibility to save her and yeah why? He’s her romantic interest? Not from her perspective at this point and that’s a terrible reason anyway. Not only are we shown her blowing herself up in detail, being inflicted with it but he also has to see that, multiple times. Please don’t make me think too long about it… then we don’t see what actually changes her mind and actually see their bond. That also doesn’t give me a lot of faith is what they think is important to show.

Then she sacrifices herself at the end to “break the cycle” which no one is actually clear on what is meant by that and the same damn song is playing. It’s weird.

I’d like to compare it to the Poison sequence from Hazbin Hotel since that scene faced backlash for romanticizing abuse specifically in that scene. If I can describe what makes Poison not exploitative and what makes Wasteland so then I can safely say they are different and there is something deeply sinister about Jinx’s scene.

Poison benefits internally, inside the context of the story from being visually appealing and pretty. That tells part of the story in and of itself and eventually it cracks, mirroring how Angel feels in the scene and in his situation.

Wasteland benefits externally, it’s done for the audience as I’ve been saying. There is nothing about Jinx’s mindset or actions that we get a better insight into from the stylistic choices. We know “she loves a spectacle” but that’s the only internal explanation that I could make. Even if they wanted the cutting of her hair and the burning on the last drop but the framing could have easily been different.

Think about the staple scene for contrast, it has no interest in being something other than what it is, brutal and disorienting, just as she is feeling in that moment. Jinx would behave that way whether there were “eyes” on her or not. Poison is the same, Angel “performs” to keep his thoughts at bay regardless of an audience. Wasteland only exists in its current form to entertain.

The final “sacrifice” also falls into this, solely focusing on eliciting a reaction from the audience and making a spectacle of sadness. There is no resolution to Jinx’s earlier conversation with Ekko, we don’t see her reflect, we don’t see a change. We have no reason to believe she’s in any way in a better place. Her decision to give her life for Vi’s isn’t particularly fleshed out and this as a conclusion to her arc is bizarre at best and offensive at worst, suggesting she had to remove herself from her loved ones lives, something she simultaneously feared and was tempted by.

I probably shouldn’t feel the need to make such a caveat but I am aware that the could be a matter of preference when it comes to how scenes like this are portrayed but the way this scene was done continues to strike me as odd. I can’t help but think it maybe intentionally or unintentionally is playing into the “sacrifice” message where, it may be a sad thing but Jinx had to die. And that’s a horrible thing to say.

[leeyasuojihan]

An Hour with You

Soobin X Male Reader

fluff, slight angst 

IC: Reader is an ex-SHINee member (maknae), age gap (5 yrs Soobin is 24, M/n is in his late 20’s), acquaintances/friends to lovers(not really), reader is friends with Yeonjun, reader had a past scandal very brief, -nim means Mr., sorry if anyone is out of character I'm just a writer 😣, Rusty writer, I'm seriously not good at dialogue

A/n: there were so many moments where I was like wtf am I writing about idek what pov this is? 3rd ig, I used the 40% of English I know, slightly inspired by the bl “Light on Me” the ending

Start: 12/22/24 - Finished: 02/02/25

~

An hour or 8, how long has it been? {name} has been in the studio since the group had returned from an interview, hours since he and Chan had both been there working on their solos for their next release HOP

Is there something wrong with him? All the other members have already finished at least writing their songs, I mean it's not that it's due anytime soon, but still, it's been weeks. The only word present in his notebook was the word “you” surrounded by scribbled-out traces of his past thought processes

How much longer would he have to stare at his pen for ideas to start forming? He looks around for his phone, seeing it by his once-filled coffee cup he checks the time, 6:30 AM, as it is about to turn off a notification reignites it

Lixie: Hyung, are you still at the studio? you weren't in your room

Why was he still up, they have another interview tomorrow, or well later today either way it's not something he's excited for, {name} quickly responds 

{name}: I’m leaving now, why are you still up Lixie

Sending the message he packs up disgruntledly glancing at his poor attempt at a song one last time before closing his notebook and tossing it into his bag so ready to do anything but think for the next hours

~

7:31

Entering the shared dorm Felix was waiting in the main room lying on the couch, hearing the door he turned his attention from his phone, “Oh hyung, you look tired”, “Wow, thank you” {name} said placing his bag down beside the door, he’ll get it later, or someone else will do it

“You know I didn't mean it like that, you lay with me,” Felix said, watching {name}’s slow movements towards him. Nights like this were when {name} wished he had just settled for a normal job after leaving his last group, he appreciated the member's efforts and all of Stay’s support, all 7 summers together were spent with no regrets, but with a schedule like this there should be a lot more breaks 

“Have you finished your song yet {name}?”, {name} groaned not wanting to think about his lack of creativity, “I'm not even close, I have no good ideas”, Felix responded with a hum “We still have a month” A month {name} is sure will be filled no progress since 5 have already passed

“Yeah,” {name} says, turning towards the window, curtains slightly blocking out the beauty of the sunrise. “It's almost light outside, I'll go shower so I won't take too long when we're ready to leave” At this point, it wasn't only the music becoming a burden 

It was everything and everyone, even the shortest conversations like this were exhausting especially when they were about work, he didn’t even feel like he had enough energy for a shower but whatever would help him get away for a few minutes

The thought of a hiatus was never a new thing, he had been on hiatus for a scandal a year ago, and that might be the problem, he had gotten so used to doing nothing only to be placed back with a hectic schedule on a random day when the company decided they wanted him back in the group 

Since this comeback started he has been battling the thought of having this conversation again, this time it being his own decision, he didn’t want to leave the boys worrying while they were all busy with practices and preparing for their solos. He’s usually good at pushing through these moments regardless of how tired he is, but recently the weight of everything feels as if it's trying to crush him

Being in the industry as long as he and being the oldest of the group has made even the smallest mistakes on stage and during recordings made him feel like he’s no longer good enough to be an idol, the other boys have noticed his constant requests for retakes but it never seemed that serious as Seungmin would do the same at times

Now not even being able to write a song was his limit, living like this any longer was just unbearable, all his passions seemed to be dimming, and it was obvious, to him at least, that he needed to take a step back before he completely loses it

The interview goes by as most do, lame jokes, fake laughs to be nice, and the interviewer knowing barely anything about the actual group, fun. Although {name} spent most of the interview zoned out it didn't change much since both felt like a waste of time, one was just more socially agreed on

Chan of course observed all his members making sure they were all comfortable and noticed quickly when {name} wasn't as interactive as he usually was, only sending small smiles his way when he’d seen the leader looking his way

Finally, there's an end to it, the room fills with thank you’s and staff members packing up, {name} quickly made his way over to Chan thanking a random staff member, “Can I talk to you about something” Chan's expression became more serious as he turned in {name}’s direction “Yeah, I wanted to talk to you too”

The two ended up in a bathroom, not the best place but it's private. “Are you okay you barely said anything the whole time” Chan started “Actually, Channie.. I haven't been feeling well lately, I wanted to talk to you about going on hiatus”

With his reaction {name} wasn't sure how he was feeling, Chan simply nodded and stared for a second before speaking again “How long have you been feeling like this, why didn't you tell me earlier”, {name} thought about for a second glancing around but still the design of the room goes unnoticed “it's been 5 months now, I didn't want to bother you guys but right now everything even just talking for too long feels like a chore. I don't want to leave but I think I need time to find myself”

“{name} hyung, this isn't something that bothers us, this is serious. I'm sorry you've been feeling this way and that I didn't notice sooner, you've worked hard, it's normal to get tired, you're human. If a hiatus is what you need we’ll all support you” Chan says going in for a hug

{name} accepted the hug, It was no surprise he’d react this way, he was probably the best leader any group could have, but there was always a thought that leaving in the middle of preparing for another comeback was just selfish competing with the his other thought that if he doesn't take a break his lack of motivation could imperil the group and his relationship with his members

“Seriously don't worry about us, we can talk to the company together and figure out how to handle this. Take care of yourself”

[2 Days later]

For some reason having everyone here talking about this felt embarrassing, almost as if he should be punished for not being strong enough to keep going. The members sat gathered around the main room sitting wherever they could fit

As Chan explained why they were all called here, the attention was fully on him and {name} the only two standing, the atmosphere was awkward but free of judgment. Chan gave {name} a pat on the back before sitting on the couch armrest by Minho “I want to start by saying I love you all, I'm very grateful to be a part of this group and have you guys as my brothers, but lately…I haven't been okay”

The room immediately falls silent, the member's once playful expressions fading into furrowed brows and worried glances. Looking down to avoid eye contact {name} continues “I’ve been feeling burnt out for a while now. I didn't tell you guys because I didn’t want to disappoint you, but it’s been getting harder every day. I feel like I can’t give 100% anymore to our fans, you, or even myself. I already talked to Chan about it, and we both agreed that I needed to take a break”

There was a brief moment of stunned silence with the boys exchanging glances and processing his words. Still unable to meet their eyes {name} continues “I know this might make things harder for all of you. I hate the idea of leaving you even for a little while, but I need this time to figure things out, I’m really sorry”

Jeongin is the first to speak up “Hyung why are you apologizing? You dont have to be sorry for taking care of yourself” his voice wavering slightly “You’ve been so strong for all of us. If you’re feeling this way, we’ll support you no matter what”. Changbin’s usually playful personality wasn’t present 

“{name}ie, we’ve always said that we’d support each other through anything, and this is no different. Your health comes first. The group will manage without you for however long you need—we’ll make it work. You just focus on getting better.”

Felix made a slight humming sound nodding his head to agree “when you’re ready to come back we’ll be here waiting for you”

Felix got up walking to where {name} was standing pulling him into a hug. It didn’t take long before it became a group hug

5 days in, not much has changed aside from now being over rested. It wasn’t a bad change though. Despite the comfort {name} knew it was time to get out of bed and start taking care of himself 

When he walked to the living room his mom was watching the news, it was nothing important just something to follow the weather report 

“Ma?” hearing her son’s voice she looks over “oh you're up?, how are you feeling?” It was a quick glance as she continued to watching the news

“I feel a little better” {name} says walking over to the kitchen behind the couch. “That’s good, I made you something. Also when you’re done eating do you think you could go to the store for me”

This time instead of glancing she got up and walked over to him lifting the cover off the breakfast she made. {name} didn’t have anything else to do so the answer was easy “yea, what do you need me to get”

With 3 things left to find on the list his mom gave to him he turns the cart into another isle to be met with a man standing in front of 1 of 3 things

“Excuse me?” {name} called, The man turned around surprised “Oh! Hi {name}nim,”. It was Soobin, {name} knew him, he was the leader of his friend Yeonjun’s group. {name} had went out to restaurants and played games with members before, but only when Yeonjun was there

Soobin had also recently went on hiatus for health issues, “I saw that you’re also on hiatus now, how are you?”. {name} answered his question while placing what he needed in the cart “I’m doing well, what about you? your break is almost done”

“Ah, I’m good, I feel better” Soobin said observing the cart and its keepings. “{name}nim are you in a hurry to go home after this” 

“Not really,” there wasn’t much for {name} to do at home besides watching tv and talking to his mom and their dog, the groceries weren’t an urgent need

“There’s a café close, do you want to get coffee together?” Soobin asked looking as if he wanted any answer but a the word no

Or is this delusion? Either way no wasn’t an option “yea, I just need 2 more things though”, Soobin smiled softly “What else? Let’s look for them together. I couldn’t find what I wanted anyway”. He took the small blue paper from {name}’s hand

After ordering they took a seat in a corner with the grocery bags resting below them. Soobin angled his head trying to see the one that kept turning over

“Did you just want to get coffee, or did you want to talk about something?” Just a curious question from {name}. Soobin looked up with that one slightly surprised bunny expression he has

S-“I just thought about how I’ve never gotten the chance to talk to you alone”. 

{N}-“Tomorrow I have nothing to do, do you want to go somewhere together?”

For the first time in a while seeing someone didn’t feel like a chore to {name}, if anything it was his main motivation to do better

How would he go see Soobin if he hadn’t showered, brushed his teeth, or got dressed

At this point he’s gotten up early and showered for it to return as a habit. His phone lights up, 2:05 am, from Soobin 

“Hey {name}ie, do you want to go to the store with me?”

{N}- “Soobie it’s so late why are you up����”

S- “we had to re-record a few things and why are you still up {name}-nim”

{N}- “alright,” “don’t question me” “I’ll go get ready and wait for you outside”

It wasn’t anything speacial but these past 4 months, even though Soobin when back to schedules, {name} has been going on late night or early morning walks with Soobin to a close store or to wherever they decide to stop, talking about any and everything

Surprisingly and unsurprisingly they had a lot in common, and Soobin tells {name} about everything that happens while he’s on hiatus 

Like Felix getting lost on stage again, Jeongin and Beomgyu annoying both groups, and messages of how much both Stay and the kids miss him 

The last one always feels like he was sent to recruit {name} from hiatus. “So how much longer do you think you’ll be on hiatus?” 

He’s been thinking about it, finally seeing his members again. As much as he needed this break, he now misses his members 1000 times more, calls weren’t enough 

Soobin has of course been great company, another thing he’s been thinking about

“Hmm, tomorrow” of course it definitely wasn’t thought out but {name} was tired of not being able to see them

“Really?!” Soobin stopped walking for a while until {name} reached beside him and turned to face him

{name} shook his head “mhm, also since you’re usually the one inviting me for walks, I invited you this time because I wanted to tell you something…”

They were back to walking. Soobin looked over again “Oh? {name}ie what is it?” 

“I like you” a sentence enough to stop their movement again. “I wanted to tell before I got off hiatus since our schedules probably won’t match anymore”

Blank stare. Blink. Was it a mistake? Did he misunderstand?

“{name} are you sure you’re ready to go back to the dorms?” His mom asked looking at him from the doorway

“Yea, I’ll be okay. I was okay when i debuted, I’ll be okay now” he glanced around his old room.

Knock Knock

“Mom did you invite someone?” “No, I’ll go check”. A few minutes later a stream of familiar chatter flowed down the hallway 

“{NAME}IE” Changbin already shouting before they all got into view. {name} got up meeting the members halfway at tge door, Felix was the first one to pull him into a hug

“Oh- why are you guys here?!” {name} accepted the hug motioning for the other boys to join which they did without hesitation except for Chan who just answered giggling at the scene “we had a day off so we wanted to come pick you up”

They separate with the younger members moving to do their own little inspection of the room that held their oldest brother for months 

“Are you feeling better?” Chan asked walking over and picking up {name}’s packed bag. “Yeah, I can’t wait to go back”

2024 MAMA Awards 

Hours of announcements and 4-5 awards won for the night, a performance is the perfect time for a bathroom break

Jisung and Hyunjin went along too. As they entered the bathroom Soobin was by the sink washing his hands and looked over 

The two boys beside {name} quickly greeted Soobin before entering their own stalls

Soobin grab a paper towel drying his hand before speaking. “{name}, I’m sorry,” “it doesn’t matter” before {name} walk away Soobin caught his hand

“After the awards, I’ll be outside for a while just come talk to me” Soobin finished throwing the paper towel away before hurrying back to his seat 

Soobin sat outside on a bench a bit near the building, a vacant area compared to the front littered with confused idols trying to get to their correct vans. {name}’s slow steps lead right to him. Soobin looked up blurry eyed “You're here”. {name} took a seat beside him only looking ahead as if there was something interesting about the same trees hes seen before

“What did you want to talk about Soobin?”. Sooobin let out a light sigh before sitting back “{name}, when you told me you liked me i was scared. I'm sorry”, “why are you saying sorry, it's okay, you don't need to like me , just say thank you for liking me, it sounds better”. 

Looking at each other Soobin finally lets himself smile, even if it was a small one, “thank you for liking me, but i like you too”. “Oh. Soobin-ah thank you, i really liked being around you, but this time i i’d rather someone who gives me the same effort i give”

Soobin glanced down for a second before looking back up to meet {name}’s evercalm expression, “hyung, i'll try again. I promise i wont make you feel that way again”.

“Go for it”

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Candy Cane Lane

Pairing: Bartender!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3.3k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: It’s Christmas time and that means buying gifts and attending holiday parties with your friends. You and Scott reach an impasse in your relationship, one that you might not be able to get over. Who is right there next to you when it inevitably crumbles? Bucky. He’s always going to be there.

One in a Million Series

Square Filled: free space (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Ah, Christmas. You love the holiday season. Every year back home, you and your parents would decorate the house as much as you could and even put fake snow inside to make it feel like a Winter Wonderland. You’re flying back to your family, Bucky is flying home to New York to be with his sister, Steve is staying inside the loft, and Sam is sailing out to his friends who are living at sea for the next couple of months.

To celebrate the year and to the employees who have done such great work, Disney is throwing a huge office party right before the holidays, and you’re all invited. Steve got the invite a month ago, and you’ve been preparing for it since. There’s just last-minute shopping you need to do because, for the life of you, you don’t know what to get Scott for Christmas.

You two have been dating for just over a month so it’s nothing too serious but you can tell Scott has strong feelings for you. You’re just not sure about your feelings for him. He’s coming off a little too strong for your tastes, but maybe this is what you need to move on from Bucky. He’s been plaguing your dreams as of late. It’s like no matter what you do, who you kiss, or what you tell yourself, he’s the main character in your mind.

At this point, he should be paying rent from how much he’s living inside your head.

The party is this weekend so you only have two days to go shopping for a gift for Scott. He’s going to be at the party and you figured you could exchange gifts while you’re there. What do you get someone you’ve been seeing for a month that you kind of like but are hung up on another man?

You walk out of your room and see all three roommates inside the kitchen munching on the pie you made.

“Hey, that was supposed to be for tonight,” you say. All three of them look up like they’re kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. “Whatever. Look, I need help. Can you guys come with me to go last-minute shopping? Please?” Bucky looks like he’d rather do anything else, Sam looks at the ceiling to avoid your eyes, and Steve takes another slow bite of the pie. “I’ll buy you food.”

A chorus of “Yeah, alright” goes around, and you grin in triumph. The mall is packed with people rushing to get presents and families with kids shouting and complaining that they’ve been out too long. Steve and Sam break off from the group to find the best food places while you and Bucky browse the many stores.

“So, I thought you got all of your shopping done.”

“I did. I don’t have a gift for Scott.”

“You’re getting him a present? You’ve only been dating a month.”

You look at him with big eyes. “Should I not get him one?

Bucky loves how big your heart is. “No, no, I think it’s nice you’re getting him something. What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know. I think jewelry is out of the question. I think a watch is too big. I can get him something practical. Maybe a coffee maker? I always go overboard with presents, especially when I don’t know the person that well. It’s either too big or not big enough. I need your help.”

“Come on, I know you, Y/N. You already had a present in mind. What was it?”

“Fine,” you sigh. You take out a card from your purse. “It was a certificate for piping hot sex, but now I’m not so sure.”

Bucky takes the card from you and grins as he reads it. “I’m keeping this. This is great.”

“No, you’re not!” You try to grab it but he holds it just out of reach. He moves the card up higher when you start to jump for it, but he’s too damn tall. You fall against Bucky in laughter, and he holds you by your waist to keep you steady. You look into his eyes with a sultry gaze, and his arm lowers just slightly enough for you to grab the card. “Ha!”

“Alright, alright,” Bucky smirks.

You two walk into a store that sells all kinds of things like clothing, toys, shoes, jewelry, etc.

“Okay, if you were my boyfriend, what would you want?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

Bucky pauses in thought. He knows what he would want. Instead, he’s thinking about how you said my boyfriend and not a boyfriend. Do you even like Scott as much as you say you do? He often wonders what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.

“Well, I’d want another motorcycle helmet. Mine is getting pretty worn down, and the lenses are getting scratched.”

You walk around the store as you talk, and you notice something in one of the aisles. You grab the box of magnets and hold them up to him with a smile. “How about I get these so you can decorate your arm?”

Bucky looks away with a smile. Another twenty minutes inside the store, and you find the perfect gift for Scott. A plush realistic heart that throbs as it pumps blood, and it even makes a squishy noise that represents the blood flowing through it. It’s perfect for a science teacher who specializes in anatomy. By the time you two are done, Steve and Sam already have a food place picked out.

“So, did you find something?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, with Bucky’s help.”

“Good luck to Scott. Bucky is the worst gift giver, ever.”

“I don’t know. He’s not all bad,” you grin at Bucky.

After a nice lunch, you start the drive back to the apartment. It’s a straight shot but you decide to take the scenic route through the neighborhood that shows off all of their lights. It’s called Candy Cane Lane. All of the houses already have started decorating and will be done by tonight.

“Why are we here, Y/N?” Bucky asks.

“I wanted to show you this place. It’s a whole festival of lights that they do every year. It’s beautiful, and I really want to see this before we all go to the airport.”

“I don’t think I can come to this. It’s imperative that don’t miss this flight. My sister is going to kill me if I do.”

“Oh, okay,” you say.

Yes, you’re sad that you might not be able to show this to Bucky but you’re not going to let him miss his flight.

“Is Natasha going?” Steve asks.

“Yes,” you smirk. “She’ll be right over as soon as she finishes a showing on a house. Did you get something for her?”

“Maybe,” Steve mumbles.

You get back home and text Scott to come over. You’d rather give him his gift now than wait until the party. If he hates it, at least only you will know. Bucky watches you walk off with your eyes on your phone, and he sighs to himself. He breaks apart from the group and walks into his room. The only person to who he hasn’t given a gift yet is you. He’s not sure if he’s ever going to give it to you, not when you’re with Scott.

Bucky opens the small box to reveal a necklace that has your birthstone on it. It’s a stone that’s wrapped in a vine-like fashion that then turns into the chain. He doesn’t know why he got this knowing you two aren’t dating. All he knows is that he took one look at it and knew it belonged on your neck.

An hour goes by before Scott comes over. You immediately take him to your room so that you can have some privacy.

“I hope this isn’t too forward but I got you something for Christmas.”

“I got you something, too,” he smiles.

He pulls out an envelope and you pull out the small gift bag the heart is in. You seem surprised at the envelope but take it nonetheless. Scott waits patiently for you to open your gift first, so you open the envelope in curiosity. They’re tickets. Once your brain comprehends what’s in your hands, you feel your body stiffen.

“Wow. Music festival tickets in Copenhagen. I don’t know what to say. Thank you,” you stutter. “I feel like an asshole for what I got you now.” Scott opens his present and gasps when he sees the plush heart. “I know, it’s nothing like this, but--”

“I love it,” he smiles. “It’s funny and quirky and sweet, just like you. That’s why I love it.” He doesn’t miss a beat when he says, “I love you.”

All the blood drains from your face. Scott pulls you into a hug and rubs your back, but you can barely move. Uncomfortable silence fills the room. Say something! Scott is waiting for you to say something!

“Thank you,” you say awkwardly and pat his back.

What the fuck. Out of all the things you could have said, you just had to say ‘thank you’? If Scott never knew how you felt, he does now. You like him, kind of, but you don’t love him. He left right after you exchanged gifts and will meet you at the party later. Bucky immediately knew something was wrong when you didn’t say a single word on the ride to the party. He wants to ask you about it but he knows it’s best to wait for you to come to him.

Steve and Natasha are already in the lobby when you arrive. He left to give her her present and they rode here together.r They might be dating, you’re not sure. Natasha would have told you otherwise but she hasn’t. They’re cute together and you know Steve won’t break her heart like all the other guys before, and Natasha is definitely going to make Steve work for it.

Natasha tucks her hair behind her ear, giving you a great view of the earrings you got her. “You’re wearing my present!” You pull her in for a hug and immediately get a noseful of a strong perfume. “Oh, my God, what is that smell?”

“The perfume Steve got me.”

“Oh, how nice of him,” you nod.

Scott shows up minutes later, but the air is awkward and thick. Bucky looks between you two but can’t quite put his finger on what might have happened. Did he say something? Did you? Did he do something? He’ll beat him the fuck up if he hurt you.

Once everyone gets here, you head upstairs to where the party is. There are already a lot of people here, so it’s easy to distract yourself from your situation with Scott.

“Hey, I’ll be right back. I’m going to get some drinks for us.”

“Okay,” he nods.

You’re already walking away before he can get the word out. Instead of getting drinks, you immediately hide in the corner where you can see everything. You’ll be able to see if Scott is coming or not. ‘Thank you’ is one of the worst responses when someone says they love you. You wanted to say it back but you can’t say something you don’t feel.

“Hiding?” You look up and notice Bucky standing right next to you. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

“Oh, hey, Buck.”

“Why are you hiding? What happened between you and Scott?”

“He told me he loved me, but I can’t say it back so I said ‘thank you’. I don’t know what to do now,” you sigh. “I have always been the one to love more. I love so much but I can’t seem to get there with him. It’s not even about love at this point. I want to like him but I just… don’t. Not as much as I should, anyway.”

“If you don’t have feelings for him, you have to tell him?”

“This is the worst time of year to break up with someone. First, there’s Christmas, then New Year’s, then Valentine’s Day, and then President’s Day.”

“It’s hard to argue with that logic,” he nods. “Still, you’ll hurt him more if you don’t.”

“Okay, I will. Thanks, Bucky.”

You leave his side in search of Scott when you see Natasha go into the ladies’ room. You turn and follow her inside the bathroom. She’s at the sink wiping some wet paper towels onto her skin.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to wipe off this perfume stench. Steve is sweet but this stinks.”

“He really likes you.”

“I know.”

“Do you like him?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I could.”

“He’s a good guy, Nat. I don’t want to see him hurt.”

“I know.” You two slide down the wall and sit on the tile away from the door. “So, do you want to tell me what’s going on with you and Scott?” You look at her and she rolls her eyes. “Come on, you can barely look at him.”

“He told me he loves me but I couldn’t say it back. Me. I don’t know. Maybe I should just make it work. I can learn to love him, right? He’s sweet.”

“Being sweet isn’t enough to keep someone around. Love is. If you don’t love him, he should know so he can find someone who does.”

“It’s only been a month, Nat. He shouldn’t be in love already.”

“Some people love harder than others.”

“Yeah. I’ll break up with him after the holidays. I’m not a monster.” You get up and pull the door open. “You still stink, by the way.”

You smirk when you hear her curse. You’re not sure what time it is since your phone died, but the party is still crowded with people so it can’t be that late. You pass by the balcony and notice Bucky and Scott outside hugging. Bucky is not a hugger. You push the door open and pop your head out.

“What’s going on here? Why are you guys hugging?”

They pull away from each other and Scott looks like someone punched his puppy right in front of him, and Bucky looks like he’s in pain… emotional pain.

“We’re just… talking,” Scott says.

“Talking?” You look at Bucky. “You hate talking.”

“Yeah, we’re talking about… about sports.”

There is a pause between all three of you, and you look at Bucky. He takes one look at those big beautiful eyes and folds immediately. He has to come clean.

“That’s a lie,” Bucky sighs. “I told him you didn’t love him.”

“What?” you gasp. “Bucky!”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Scott tries to say.

“No, it’s not okay. You had no business telling him that!” you yell. “What the hell!”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m just gonna…” Bucky walks to the balcony door and tries to open it but it won’t budge. “No, come on. This is my nightmare. Come on!”

“We should talk,” Scott sighs.

“Yeah.”

You and Scott sit down on the bench while Bucky still tries to get inside the office. He doesn’t want to break the glass so he continually knocks on it in hopes someone will hear it.

“Bucky shouldn’t have told you that but it’s true. I… don’t love you.”

“Okay,” Scott nods slowly. “So, what now?”

“Look, I like you. I do, but I guess I’m just a bit overwhelmed. It’s only been a month, Scott.”

“I understand. I know about your relationship with Jack, and I respect those boundaries, but I thought we were feeling the same thing for each other.”

“We were… we are, but I think you’re feeling them more than me.” Bucky knocks against the glass noisily, and you glare at him. “Sit down and shut up, Bucky. This is your fault.” He frowns but does what he’s told. “Look, Scott, I got hurt and I’m trying really hard not to get hurt again.”

The tension is cut with the ringing of Bucky’s phone. You and Scott look at Bucky who has a red face of embarrassment. He takes out his phone and sees his sister, Rebecca, calling him.

“I’m sorry. Just one second.” Bucky answers the call. “Hey, Bec. … Yeah, I’ll be there … No, don’t worry. … Seriously, I’ll be there. I still have time. I gotta go. … Okay, bye.” He looks at you. “Continue.”

“We can keep going but I think we should take it slow.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Oh, come on,” Bucky groans. “How hard is it to take it slow?”

“Bucky,” you growl.

“Yeah, I’ll shut up.”

“I don’t want to slow down… Not with you. It’s not what I want. If you need to, I don’t think I can do this with you.”

“So, I guess this is it, right?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay,” you nod.

Suddenly, the balcony door opens and Sam pops his head outside. “Have any of you seen a small child running around?”

“Yes! Sam, you’re my hero!”

Bucky jumps up and dashes inside, and you sigh. After this, you’re not in a partying mood anymore. Candy Cane Lane is also well past closing so all there is left to do is go home and prepare for your flights. You, Bucky, Sam, Natasha, and Steve are in one car with Bucky driving. He keeps looking over at you with your head on the window. It’s his fault for running his big mouth and he’s not going to keep disappointing you.

“What flight leaves at 1 am?” Sam asks.

“The kind I can afford,” Bucky answers. Again, Bucky sneaks a peek at you. He can’t end the night like this. “There’s something we gotta do first.”

Bucky does a complete one-eighty and drives in the opposite direction of the airport.

“What are you doing?”

Bucky doesn’t answer until he gets to Candy Cane Lane, but all the lights are off. “I screwed up everything. We were supposed to come to this.”

You get out of the car just like everyone else and stare down the dark and desolate road.

“Let’s just go home, Bucky.”

“No, this is Christmas. We came to see the lights.”

“What are you going to do? It’s one in the morning.”

“Hey! Turn on your lights!” Bucky takes off toward one of the houses and knocks on the door rapidly. “Come on, I got a girl out here that wants to see the lights!” A slight smile makes its way to your face. “Turn on the lights!”

Steve, Sam, and Natasha join in and yell at the top of their lungs to turn the damn lights on. You’re the only one who is silent because you can’t stop looking at Bucky. ONe by one, the lights turn on and the inflatables start to rise again. In this moment, everything disappears until the only person you can see is Bucky.

He walks over to you and smiles softly and with adoration. He reaches into his breast pocket and pills out a small box and hands it over to you.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

You open it to reveal your birthstone encased in vines that make up the rest of the chain. You gasp and touch the stone delicately as if it will shatter under your touch.

“I love it so much. Thank you.”

You pull him in for a hug, and he slides his hands down your back. He did a dick thing by telling Scott how you feel, but he is most certainly making up for it now. You pull back from Bucky only enough to create only a few inches of space between you two. He glances down at your lips but doesn’t make a move.

“You’re welcome.”

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[nothingcouldfall7]

if anyone has byler doubt after today just remember they can’t risk any implication that byler is happening in s5 now that they’ve filmed it (especially by finn), mileven is canon so they are safe when they say they support this ship it is the SAFE option; they literally waited 5 seasons to make byler canon and they can’t make the mistake of making the ship seem like an option from their side even months before the actual promo (the main trailer) for s5 and i still think they will be very subtle with it and make it more of a surprise and plot point in s5. the evidence is on screen in all seasons- it is not coincidence of how finn plays mike, like you can literally take just 1 “byler proof” that byler is real and it should make you convinced on that

let me say for example: the contrast of mileven break up and byler fight in s3 CMOONNN- the difference in the dynamics and making mileven break up a comedic thing and byler very angsty and sad- even the aftermath when max said to el “he will come crawling back to you” umm he did not instead ge biked across hawkings in pouring rain to will’s house and when he wasn’t there he went didn’t give up and kept on looking for him; he also immediately corrected his past behaviour about not caring where dustin is when will pointed it out and took emphasis to not make the same mistake again

i mean we all know this but like i could talk about this forever and that’s just one things amongst hundreds of others and maybe more

and just props to duffers like i think its just so fascinating how they do all this and get away with it so it stays more of a surprise for the GA and i understand the GA for shipping mileven or for not rlly caring about that in general because its not always something you notice on a one watch but when you think about it from any perspective it makes so. much. sense. its unreal

might have gotten a bit lost in here in the end idk but im also kind of watching the grammys while studying while listening to music while its 4 am so yeah also my first post on here lol? non toxic twitter and kind of a byler space i love it here

[louiseolivier]

Fluffebruary: Cooking Together

Written for @bucktommyfluffebruary

AO3 Link

The first time did not go well. At all. Buck’s eyes kept cutting to Tommy on the other side of the island, who was absolutely hacking at an onion. Most of it was a small dice, some of it was Brunoise, but none of it was the minced he asked for. Buck exhaled forcefully through his nose and tried not to let it bother him, but it did—a lot.

Buck gnawed at his bottom lip when a thought occurred. “Hey, can you scrub three potatoes for me?” He gave Tommy a soft, innocent smile.

Tommy looked up briefly and then back at his haphazardly chopped onion. He cut the last few inches, this time into an uneven medium dice, and grinned guilelessly up at Buck. “Sure,” he said. He moved around the counter and took the time to press his hand against Buck's waist before digging out the potatoes from their bag.

Once Tommy’s back was turned, focused on the task Buck gave him, Buck pushed the carrots he was julienning to the side and pulled the cutting board Tommy used to massacre the poor, unexpecting root vegetable towards himself. Buck’s chef’s knife made fast work, flying over the mismatched onion pieces until all of it was minced to Buck’s liking.

“Here ya go,” Tommy said, presenting Buck with a bowl of well-scrubbed potatoes.

“Thanks.” Buck placed a congenial hand on Tommy’s wrist while his other tried to scoot the cutting board with the onions from Tommy’s line of sight. “I really like you helping me. It feels...nice.” It was the safest thing Buck could think of because what he wanted to say was domestic. Tommy’s lack of knife skills notwithstanding.

Tommy gazed at him softly and, Christ, did that get Buck going. They hadn’t said it, and honestly, there was still a stiffness, an air of formality since getting back together that they never had before, but Buck knew what that look meant. It was a look of love. They were constantly mirroring it back and forth, but neither was brave enough to say it. Yet. It was still early days though. They were both protecting wounds. Some old, some recent, and some self-inflicted. They’d get there soon, he was sure of it.

Big hands wrapped around Buck, and Tommy pulled him into a hug. Tommy’s hugs were god-tier. Firm and warm, but not crushing. Buck felt cradled in his man’s arms. Safe. Protected. Cherished. Buck closed his eyes and melted against him.

And then Tommy’s body went rigid. The arms around him slackened, and Buck pulled away to see what was wrong. Tommy's eyes were on the now perfectly minced onion, lips pursed in consideration. His eyes lifted to Buck’s face, and he raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Sorry,” Buck said, feeling slightly ashamed.

“You could have said something,” Tommy pointed out.

“I know.” Buck brushed a kiss to Tommy’s cheek in apology and then carried the mound of onions to the stove. He pulled a wok from a cabinet and placed it on the burner to heat up.

“So why didn’t you?” Tommy, ever helpful, brought over the carrots, zucchini, bell peppers, and mushrooms and placed them all within Buck's reach.

“I didn’t wanna rock the boat.” Buck lined up the sauce ingredients, not quite meeting Tommy’s eyes. “Things have been going so well.”

“Right,” Tommy agreed. Then he made a pinched expression, and his head bobbed left to right as he considered his next words. “But wasn’t that part of our problem the first time around? Not that I have a lot of complaints,” Tommy assured Buck, “but we kept it all pretty surface level.”

“Yeah,” Buck nodded. “I’m not trying to go back. It's just...” He trailed off. He was going to say, “easier,” but realized it would negate the first part of his statement. It was exactly what he did—they did—the first time.

Tommy understood his meaning anyway and rubbed his hand against the small of Buck’s back. “I’m scared, too.”

Fear was Tommy’s main motivator when it came to love. He had fallen hard for the first guy he dated, and it ended disastrously and had done everything in his power to avoid it since. Buck held back because he was so desperate to keep Tommy around, he didn’t want to be too much, too overwhelming. They both failed spectacularly but got what few did: a chance at a do-over.

“I’m a big boy,” Tommy said, and a beat of silence passed as they shared a knowing grin. “So, let me have it. What was wrong with my onions?”

Buck blew out a breath and decided to go with it. He tapped the cutting board of onions with the corner of the wok spatula. “This is minced. What you were doing was far too big.”

“Okay, but you’re making stir-fry. Shouldn’t they be bigger pieces anyway? I mean, that shit’s going to burn.”

“First, I like onion flavor but not onion texture. Second, they won’t burn if I put them in with the bell peppers.” Buck poured in oil and coated the pan with a twist of his wrist. “Go ahead. My turn.” The diced chicken went in first, and he let it sizzle as he waited for Tommy’s critique.

“You’re bossy and a little scary in the kitchen,” Tommy said and then flicked a plank of carrot into his mouth.

“You know what?" Buck huffed. "Three: even if I wanted bigger pieces of onion, the name of the game is uniformity. Jee-Yun could do better with her plastic knife,” Buck half-joked.

"Ouch," Tommy said with a snort, and then added, “How could I have forgotten bitchy?”

A smile crossed Buck’s face as he gave the wok a scrape and a toss.

Tommy nodded to the bowl of whole, unpeeled potatoes he cleaned. “Do you even need those?”

It was Buck’s turn to snort as he added the carrots to the pan. “No.”

[fourswords]

to be quite honest shadow's characterization in the fsa manga was always something that raised more questions than answers for me because it's like. he's got a mile-wide inferiority complex about being link's shadow we all know this but when did he have the time to develop that inferiority complex in the first place. how long was he lurking around after ganon created him before the events of the manga actually started. what did he witness or hear or both to make him so fucking angry

[quibbs126]

I’m kind of curious now how in potential TF One sequels, the Decepticons are going to interact with Megatron

You know, whether it be positively and they actually care about him on some level, or negatively and they only make him worse and he really shouldn’t have been left with them. Or maybe a mix of both?

Because I’m realizing now that the Decepticons really don’t interact with Megatron at all after he beats Starscream. They acknowledge him and agree with him, but he never actually has a conversation with them or anything. So like, we really don’t know, and I’ve seen people characterize them either way

I mean personally I prefer the idea of them actually caring, but that’s just self indulgence talking because it’s what I like more, and might not be the more likely outcome. What’s more likely, I really don’t know

I guess it depends on how sympathetic they want to make the Decepticons? And probably also whether they want Megatron to fall farther or if he can have some form of redemption

[alongtidesoflight]

so here's my honest thoughts on dragon age: the veilguard, after ~40 hours of playing. i finished the main quest after having finished all companion quests and major faction quests. just to clear up what content i saw, i played as an elven transmasc rook who is a member of the lords of fortune. he romanced lucanis (although after finishing the game i'm now leaning towards taash). i don't know what's happening in playthroughs that have a different race, gender identity, romance or faction going on.

full spoilers ahead, i mean it. don't read further if you want to avoid them. i don't want complaining about it in my asks.

oh and also, if you're worried because of a few negative reviews online i can comfort you by saying don't give a fuck about a certain big name youtuber who is very much tied to bethesda franchises giving this a negative review. i'll explain why.

i'm starting off with the things i liked

the game looks really pretty. i was worried it wouldn't feel like thedas anymore (with them trying to "focus on northern thedas only" i thought they'd make a clear cut in environmental design. they do and they don't. it's complicated. i'll elaborate on it when talking about the negative stuff). anyway it does. minrathous feels like kirkwall. treviso enchanted me like the winter palace did. the hossberg wetlands reminded me of the hinterlands and a couple other inquisition maps. arlathan looked like... arlathan. the crossroads were different, but familiar. overall i like the way it looks and feels. it's thedas, with a twist. it's a good one, and gives everything a solid but unique feel.

combat is top tier. if you're a hardcore dragon age player you WILL miss the tactical aspect of it for a bit, but i promise you, once you're used to the way the combat works, you will be lapping that shit up. and once you get to ability combos you'll mourn the control you used to have over your companions in battle a bit less

the MAIN quest and its story. i expected worse, way worse. and for a while the game even had me tricked (harr harr you'll get it in a second) it is Really That Much Worse. but holy shit was it good. i walked away satisfied ngl.

your choices have SOLID weight. there's consequences, good AND bad. i got minrathous blighted, ruled over by venatori, and the leader of the shadow dragons ultimately died because of my decisions. i made those at the beginning and throughout the game. he died at the end. DAVRIN died because i didn't expect what i was saying to have that much weight. i thought i was in the clear. he had hero status. well turns out, your choices can still get your companions killed even if you do everything right. i fucking love him. he shouldn't have made that sacrifice just because i told him to do everything it takes once.

the inquisitor, morrigan and dorian being there, surprisingly. there's also negatives to this though, see below.

speaking of companions dying and the inquisitor playing a bigger role: the final quest feels like me2's suicide mission. i was blown away by it and the fact that i got to see the results of all my efforts playing out in front of me.

bioware are NOT trying to redeem solas. they love him as a character yes, but i wasn't forced to see any good in him. he betrays you. he fucked my rook over twice. he fucked him over right back, for good this time (the veil wasn't torn down, i anchored it by binding him to it, he's doomed to uphold it). but solas really lives up to his name as the trickster elven god. rip to all the people who grew really attached to him over the years.

varric died. if you like him that's probably as hard reading it as it was watching it. varric died and the game lies about it until the very end. when the realisation hits, it hurts. but in the very best way.

the amount of care they put into gender expression and trans identities this time around. (i'll add onto this with negative points as well too).

rook feels very much ingrained in the world of thedas. he doesn't ask questions that expose the player to lore through dialogue as if he's stepped foot into thedas for the first time. those conversations feel very solid and good. i hope other faction players got as much joy out of this as i did.

and the things i didn't like and boy there's a lot unfortunately

the music. let's just get that out of the way holy shit. it doesn't feel like it belongs in this universe. it gets so incredibly sci-fi-y at times you'd think it's taken straight from mass effect andromeda. there's not a single song unique to veilguard that i really enjoyed. it broke my immersion, real bad. hearing a busker play the tavern songs from inquisition on a lute right after i killed some venatori with wobbly bass songs playing in the background is just odd. weird tonal shift. don't like it. it's made for people who like flashy light-weight cinema.

tevinter nights is required reading. the podcasts are required listening exercises. the game is so fast paced, especially at the start, that there's no time to introduce you to characters and how much weight their names carry in-game. i would not have known who half these people are if i hadn't skimmed over tevinter nights. i'd care even less about them than i already did. there is no time to get properly attached to them. people will act as if you're talking to a legend personified and you'll be thinking man goddamn which chapter of tevinter night were they in again and what did they do???

there's a weird mismatch with the animations. you'll have beautifully fluid ones, like emmrich casting spells. and then you'll have rook's face animating in the most unnatural manner that's sorta reminiscent of mass effect andromeda's "my face is tired" addison, when their emotions SHOULD be landing with the player rn instead.

i'm not vibing with the art style. sometimes it works. most of the time it doesn't. at points i felt like i was watching tangled.

that also brings me to some of the dialogue. same issue. i am watching frozen. i am watching tangled. someone on the writer's team really likes the adorkable trope. bellara is its victim.

for all the talk about identity, bioware sure doesn't like theirs. the grey warden armor got a redesign again and it just makes them look like a generic army. i hate it lol

in general, i don't like the armor design. the wardrobe/appearances system is fine, but it's just not helping if all the armors are just... kinda bland or downight bad looking? and don't get me started on the lords of fortune armor. that is orientalism personified.

the world states should have been carried over, full stop. i know they said they didn't because they want to separate what happens in the north from what happens in the south, which... i could have lived with that. but the inquisitor sends you letters that keep you up to date on... the south of thedas. you learn that there's a blight again, that people are standing strong but it's difficult, denerim's fallen, the rulers are taking care of it, orlais is fighting and they're successful for a while, etc etc. what's good bioware. i thought we don't care about the south this time around. why are you feeding me so much boring generic information. if you're not gonna show any of it and just write letters, then carrying the world state over should not have been an issue. i have a game dev background. those few lines of code would not have broken your budget or pushed your engine's limits. fuck right off.

this gripe of mine carries over to all the cameos. as a lord of fortune you have to deal with isabela a lot. it's fun. i missed her. you get to go drinking with her and taash and bellara! also my hawke romanced her. she's not mentioned once. they had the opportunity to put a sentence or two about her in there with not a lot of effort, trust me.

when varric dies, all she has is a single line about it. for gold, for fortune, for varric. she only says it if you interact with her on your way to the final push. that's not mandatory.

morrigan is there. kieran isn't. the old god soul that mythal and then solas absorbed? who cares at this point, the gods are dead now and solas is locked away for eternity. i suppose? why is morrigan there. she feels unneeded. i wish they'd just left her down south, at least that way i wouldn't have had to witness her god awful redesign.

dorian at least feels as if he belongs in this story. the shadow dragons are a crucial part to protecting minrathous. he's also weirdly underutilised. isabela and morrigan had more lines than him in my playthrough.

on the topic of romance: bro that was underwhelming. no, genuinely. you know when romance picked up a bit? after the point of no return. i heard maybe two lines of companion banter about it before that. maybe i missed something which i honestly doubt, but romance did not play much of a role in lucanis's storyline. i saved his grandmother as he wished me to (and if you read tevinter nights you know she was rather abusive and their relationship not the healthiest) and told him to focus on his family. a reunified family my rook wasn't even introduced to as a partner at the end of all that.

really, do not buy this game if you're only in it for the romances. others might be better, lucanis's basically gave me nothing. except for an outing (the second coffee date i had with him, it was getting repetitive) all of it played out once i committed to the final quest. the sex scene was a fade to black. annoyingly right after davrin died. if you're looking for well paced and good spice, pick up something else. the sweet talk and the final goodbye were nice though.

for all the good the ever-presence of gender identity does, it is brought up in such a disruptive manner too. it doesn't even play out naturally if you CHOOSE the lines that are meant to be said. hearing the words trans and non-binary in this setting doesn't feel right, and i'm saying this as a trans guy. i think it could have been handled more gracefully. the amount of times my rook went "i'm a MAN" as if he's about to start drumming on his chest and roaring any second now got super nerve-grating. "i'm so glad you're into me... the me who is trans. remember?" just. tell me one trans person who'd talk like that to a person they've grown close with and are trying to romance. this game doesn't handle sexuality well, so all this hey my body might not look like the way you're expecting it to look talk amounts to nothing anyway. i feel about this the way i feel about krem: this is partial exposition to trans experiences... packaged up for cis consumption. the ONLY exception to that is interacting with taash. holy shit was all of that heartwarming and bro did it feel good and natural to talk to them about theirs and rook's gender.

rivain and nevarra are new locations added by veilguard. they're also incredibly underwhelming, small and constricted maps. rivain is a coastline with a few ruins. the hall of valor is a partial ruin nestled into a cave on a beach, with a fighting pit. isabela is there in her skimpy outfit commentating your pit fights. that's it. i'm sorry if you were looking for a bustling pirate cove or whatever. you're not gonna get it. the nevarran crypts btw are a long ass dungeon crawl. that's it.

speaking of maps. i thought people were being dramatic when they said you're gonna be fighting the same enemies on them again and again. i thought they were figure of speeching it. they're not. you WILL fight the same amount of enemies. in the same spot. every time you reload the map. best to stay on a map and clear out the enemies and do as much questing on that map as you can before leaving, because you WILL have to do it all over again once you return.

the three choices i made for my inquisitor didn't matter lol she didn't have to face solas and therefore couldn't stop him at any cost as she had sworn (maybe because my rook tricked solas into binding himself to the veil, there was also an option to fight him. would she have stepped in? who knows). blackwall wasn't mentioned. and either her using a small amount of her forces in the final fight was the reason the civilians of minrathous fared so well..... or it just didn't matter. ultimately i think she had very little impact on anything

[serpentface]

Do you conlang? I was wondering if you had naming languages (or possibly even more developed ones) for pulling the words you use. I tried to search your blog but didn't find anything, wouldn't be surprised if the feature is just busted tho. Your worldbuilding is wonderful and I particularly enjoy the anthropological and linguistic elements.

Ok the thing is I had kind of decided I was not going to do any conlanging because I don't feel like I'm equipped to do a good job of it, like was fully like "I'm just going to do JUST enough that it doesn't fail an immediate sniff test and is more thoughtful than just keysmashing and putting in vowels". And then have kinda been conlanging anyway (though not to a very deep and serious extent. I maybe have like....an above average comprehension of how language construction works via willingness to research, but that's not saying much, also I can never remember the meanings of most linguistic terms like 'frictives' or etc off the top of my head. I'm just kinda raw dogging it with a vague conceptualization of what these things mean)

I do at least have a naming language for Wardi (and more basic rules for other established languages) but the rudimentary forms of it were devised with methods much shakier and less linguistically viable than even the most basic naming language schemes, and I only went back over it LONG after I had already made a bunch of words so there's some inconsistencies with consonant presence and usage. (This can at least be justified because it IS a language that would have a lot of loanwords and would be heavily influenced by other language groups- Burri being by far the most significant, Highland-Finnic and Yuroma-Lowlands also being large contributors)

The 'method' I used was:

-Skip basic construction elements and fully move into devising necessary name words, with at least a Vibe of what consonants are going to be common and how pronunciation works -Identify some roots out of the established words and their meanings. Establish an ongoing glossary of known roots/words. -Construct new words based in root words, or as obvious extensions/variants of established words. -Get really involved in how the literal meanings of some words might not translate properly to english, mostly use this to produce a glossary of in-universe slang. -Realize that I probably should have at least some very basic internal consistency at this point. -Google search tutorials on writing a naming language. -Reverse engineer a naming language out of established words, and ascribe all remaining inconsistencies to being loanwords or just the mysteries of life or whatever.

I do at least have some strongly established pronunciation rules and a sense of broad regional dialect/accents.

-'ai' words are almost always pronounced with a long 'aye' sound.

-There is no 'Z' or 'X' sound, a Wardi speaker pronouncing 'zebra' would go for 'tsee-brah', and would attempt 'xylophone' as 'ssye-lohp-hon'

-'V' sounds are nearly absent and occur only in loanwords, and tend to be pronounced with a 'W' sound. 'Virsum' is a Highland word (pronounced 'veer-soom') denoting ancestry, a Wardi speaker would go 'weer-sum'.

-'Ch' spellings almost always imply a soft 'chuh' sound when appearing after an E, I, or O (pelatoche= pel-ah-toh-chey), but a hard 'kh' sound after an A or U (odomache= oh-doh-mah-khe). When at the start of a word, it's usually a soft 'ch' unless followed by an 'i' sound (chin (dog) is pronounced with a hard K 'khiin', cholem (salt) is pronounced with a soft Ch 'cho-lehm')

-Western Wardin has strong Burri cultural and linguistic influence, and a distinct accent- one of the most pronounced differences is use of the ñ sound in 'nn' words. The western city of Ephennos is pronounced 'ey-fey-nyos' by most residents, the southeastern city of Erubinnos is pronounced 'eh-roo-been-nos' by most residents. Palo's surname 'Apolynnon' is pronounced 'A-puh-lee-nyon' in the Burri and western Wardi dialects (which is the 'proper' pronunciation, given that it's a Kos name), but will generally be spoken as 'Ah-poh-leen-non' in the south and east.

-R's are rolled in Highland-Finnic words. Rolling R's is common in far northern rural Wardi dialects but no others. Most urban Wardi speakers consider rolling R's sort of a hick thing, and often think it sounds stupid or at least uneducated. (Brakul's name should be pronounced with a brief rolled 'r', short 'ah' and long 'uul', but is generally being pronounced by his south-southeastern compatriots with a long unrolled 'Brah' sound).

Anyway not really a sturdy construction that will hold up to the scrutiny of someone well equipped for linguistics but not pure bullshit either.

[fujii-draws]

OKAY! Chatot rant in tags below! Read at your own discretion.

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

is this outfit historically accurate? probably the fuck not. is it practical in any way shape or form? also probably not! but does it serve cunt? YES 😩🙏💅 and that's all that matters!