#I am going to lay down now

[mysillycomics]

[kitocrystal]

Checking out other Quest AUs as I wait for my will to come back to continue with Inky Mystery.

(The conflict has not let down yet and I’m starting to feel dread)

Anyway, go check out this neato retell of the og Quest story by @thequestfortheinkmachinecomics. The characters’ designs are nicely touched up, their personalities seems more natural now, the art is really cool and oh no, I’ve run out of juice for words… I just know that this retell will be good so I’ll be on along for this ride.

[varpusvaras]

The doctors had told him that things would get easier after the first trimester.

Fox had believed them. He had kind of had to, to preserve his own sanity. He had to believe that at some point, he would stop throwing up, sweating and shivering and being so damn tired that he'd fall asleep just about anywhere.

It had, in fact, been true. Of course he still occasionally felt a little sick when he smelled something unsavory, but it was only occasionally. He didn't wake up to being hot and cold in tandem so much anymore either. He was tired, still, but only to a degree that he had to sit down a couple of times a day, and maybe take a nap. Otherwise, he had been feeling pretty good during the start of the second trimester.

But then, a new challenge had crept up on him.

It had started small, so small that he had barely even felt anything at first. When he had noticed it for the first time, he had actually been happy about it.

What a fool he had been.

It had only gotten more frequent from then on, and most importantly, stronger. So much stronger.

So much stronger, in fact, that he had looped back around being tired, since every time he tried to sleep or even rest for a moment, it would start again.

It was happening again now, as he lay in their cooled bedroom, the lights dimmed and the blinds shut to escape the summer heat. He would've loved to take a nap, but he was yet again realising that sleep would not be happening.

There was a light knock on the door, and Breha peeked in.

"You're still awake?" She asked. She kept her voice quiet, in case Fox was somehow sleeping.

"Yes", Fox answered. "I don't think I will be getting any sleep."

Breha made her way to the bed, and sat on the edge of it next to Fox. Her fingers very quickly found their way into his hair, pushing it back from his face.

"Try to at least close your eyes", she said. "It's better than nothing."

"I know, I know, I'm trying-" There it was again, cutting his words into a breathless gasp.

Breha sighed softly, continuing to pet his hair.

"Is it that bad?" She asked.

Fox pressed his hand against his abdomen, and poked at it slightly. It was still, for the most part, hard muscle he had spent so long acquiring during his training, and had took even more time and effort to keep during serving. He hadn't even needed new clothes, yet, apart from a pair of dress pants he had very much liked and sorely missed now.

Fox had no idea how there was a whole baby in there, somewhere, but there was no mistake of it, not since-

Fox hissed slightly when there was a blow straight into his ribs.

"Yes", he said. "I'm going to send Bail a very pointed message. Those are definitely his elongated legs kicking my insides around the clock."

Breha barked out a laugh, that she quickly tried to cover up behind her hand.

Fox turned to glare at her.

"You think this is funny?" He asked. "You think it's funny that our husband's giant long-legged offspring is trying to break my bones?"

"No, no, of course not", Breha hurried to say, but she was definitely still grinning behind her hand, and-

-and maybe Fox was tired enough, because the longer he laid there and watched her laugh about it, the funnier it suddenly got in his mind as well.

"How dare you", he said, trying his hardest to keep himself from breaking out into laughter as well. "How dare you make me laugh when I'm miserable."

Breha could no longer hold it in. She broke down into loud, bright laughter, and Fox could only hold his own in for a few more seconds, before he eventually followed her suit.

[dykespence]

Carla : lisa , you know I'd go to hell and back for you. but sometimes I just wish you'd stop going there

[sunshinechay]

So I was rewatching Kiseki ep9 (because I like to torture myself) and there is this one expression on Ai Di’s face when he’s looking down at Chen Yi. Like he had resolved not to go through with it. He was going to stop and remove himself and not cross that line, but then Chen Yi reached out to him and kisses him, really kisses him and Ai Di just breaks.

He’s never had the kind of affection and love from Chen Yi that he craves and suddenly he has it, if only for a second. He knows what he is doing is wrong, that it’s unforgivable, but oh how he wants. He knows Chen Yi is drunk. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. He truly believes Chen Yi will hate him in the morning. Still he can’t pull himself away anymore. His resolve is gone and so he does the unthinkable and goes through with it.

The angst in that moment. Ai Di’s resolve shattering in the face of what he believes is misplaced love from Chen Yi.

The irony is I think that moment is also when Chen Yi realizes that it’s Ai Di. It’s that moment that his alcohol addled brain finally starts firing on all cylinders again and he realizes that it’s Ai Di above him, kissing him. His friend, his brother and yet all he wants to do in that moment is kiss him. He wants that love that Ai Di gives him, that he hasn’t realized he wanted until that second.

4 years in the past, Ai Di and Chen Yi managed to get to on the same page for a moment. Only they were in different books. For Ai Di, it’s an ending, a finale before he completely throws away everything he loves so much but for Chen Yi it’s an awakening, a beginning, an optimistic look into the future.

Now they aren’t on the same page but Chen Yi is desperate to get back to it and Ai Di is terrified to even consider the possiblility. All they want is each other’s love and yet they can’t seem to figure out how to get it, if they even deserve to have it.

[slutdge]

day 9,047 of the dont kill yourself challenge

[lovesickeros]

lord its so dark in here the sahara desert of tsaritsa content you are like a shining oasis. your characterisation of her compels me & mihoyo would be hard pressed to top it imo.!! caaaaan i humbly request yr thoughts on her first meeting w a reader of any kind, or maybe even multiple kinds (sagau, sagau god au, isekai, etc) if you so desire...

it really is like a desert here. being the fan of a character we aren't getting until the last damn nation is driving me up a wall but i will persevere bc if nothing else i support morally bankrupt women in media. we r in a severe drought over here but i do my best. unfortunately nothing i say is ever coherent so pull out your translation notes its abt 2 be messy

also this got out of hand but thats bc first meetings w the tsaritsa are tricky to write + a LOT of her characterization lies in deeper exploration then just surface level yknow...NOT A DIG AT YOU this is just my excuse for rambling. gently pats the tsaritsa she can hold so much complexity i do not have the word count to delve into it completely :]

gonna talk cult au for a bit here though because that's 99% of my content. and honestly? she thrives in sub au's of the cult au like villain au + imposter au. it's basically made for her. i mean, early days, the imposter au had been going around for a little while but one of the first few ideas was the Fatui taking reader in so like. it kinda technically actually was. pretty sure cult au Tsaritsa popped up because of the imposter au. a lot of it's writers kinda left though which. man am i getting old or.

anyway.

there isn't much of a chance her first impression is all that positive. at best it's usually neutral, imo, but rarely if ever positive. specifically because i view the Tsaritsa as someone who isn't as fanatical as most of the acolytes typically are towards the creator. she's not exactly going to worship the ground you walk on unlike a certain geo lizard. which is partially why i think she thrives in the sub au's i mentioned.

imposter au, for example. she meets you at your lowest. there's no gaudy extravagance or pampering from the acolytes waiting for you because your own acolytes have turned on you. for all intents and purposes you aren't a "god" at all. which is why i don't think she meshes well with normal cult au reader. the Fatui are made up of outcasts, basically, and imposter au slots right in just perfectly. you're weak, at your lowest, when you meet the Fatui in the imposter au. and the Fatui can help you, too.

a mutual exchange, really. the Tsaritsa sees a tool she can use to one up the rest of the nations and especially Archons, and she has no qualms about you using her and the Fatui in turn. you both want something out of it, after all. whether you just want to be safe from the rest of the acolytes, or you want revenge, or whatever else..she'll give you the power to fulfill it, and she gains the strongest piece on the chessboard when all is said and done.

the best way i can describe the first meeting is "practical", i suppose. she sees an opportunity in you. the ultimate gamble. because if she "saves" you, and you dont trust anyone else because they tried to kill you, well..she holds all the cards, doesn't she?

but the Tsaritsa, imo, is just as capable of being just as fanatical towards you as anyone else. she just won't worship you as the creator. but as yourself? clawing your way back to your divine power and taking back what belongs to you? the Tsaritsa is, to me, a character who's character flourishes in long-term fics more because she changes a LOT between "just met reader" and after having been with reader for some time. she's practically apathetic at the beginning but a lot of her character, in my characterization, shines through LONG after the first meeting.

[hxlcyon]

❥ ❥ ❝ miss me already? ❞

ace trappola x gn!reader | wc: 6.8k~

summary: your boyfriend (of now approximately a minute and 47 seconds) makes a bet with you: “those idiots”—your best friends of first-years—won’t even notice a thing even if we weren’t dating.” and the funniest part? he’s probably right.

warnings: pure fluff! shenanigans! lots of cursing! friends (idiots) to lovers. one joke gendered term of milady but i think that meme is gender universal lol (coming from a masc nb)

a/n: this is for @dulcesiabits's “who is the prefect dating?!” collaboration on tumblr! thank you so so much for allowing me to write for ace, the little man, the stinky guy. also MAJOR shoutouts to lily and ct for wading through this mess, i appreciate you more than you know

“Thanks for covering me.” Your sigh is accompanied by a satisfying crunch beneath your shoes, a stray leaf the unfortunate target of your latest frustrations. “Even if you were late to class.” It wasn’t like being caught on your phone by Trein was the worst of your worries, but a death sentence of papers and reprimands was, in fact, preferably avoided if you could help it.

“You owe me one.” Ace replies airily, slowing his stride to bump your side with his bag. “What’re you going to do without me?” Like he wasn’t the asshole who made you check your phone because of his sudden impromptu reenactment of an earthquake via spam text.

08:30 [ ace ]: fuck im late

08:30 [ ace ]: HELP

08:31 [ ace ]: distract him

08:31 [ ace ]: catch something on fire idc

08:33 [ ace ]: i cant believe ur gonna make me take the L

“Have an easier life, that’s for sure.” He makes a vague noise between a squeaky trumpet and a chicken, looking as if you’ve insulted generations upon generations of the Trappola bloodline with a single throwaway comment. “What was I even supposed to do?” Several expressions cycle on his face—focused, thinking, trouble—before he makes a decision and steps closer to you to ‘accidentally’ swing his bag into you again... only to eat shit as you retaliate and shove it back.

“Told you, catch something on fire.” However, the movement is enough to make you lose your footing and free fall to the ground; about to meet miserable, sweet, concrete Death before Ace grabs your arm and catches your face with his chest. “Not that.” Whatever you say next comes out muffled, noise and mind distorted by the smell of cherries?

But, the peace doesn’t last long, especially with Ace, as he pulls back enough for you to catch his lips twitching with another one-liner. “Oooh, can’t take your hands off of me.” He instantly catches your next fist, “if you like me this much, just say so.”

“Oh, Ace.” Time to switch tactics. You latch onto the front of his shirt, tightening your fists with enough force to wrinkle both his blazer and vest. “You’re totally sooo cool and don’t pick your nose and I am sooooo deeply in love with you that I just,” he begins cackling as you shake him, “can’t-help-but-choke-you-out!”

“What happened to boundaries? No safe word?” It doesn’t matter that he’s practically being rag-dolled for all of NRC to see, no matter how much you try to shake and activate that one brain cell of his, giggles continue to keep spewing out, taunting and delighted.

“I hate you—just! Shut! Up!!” You’re gonna throttle him. No one’s gonna find his body, not if you can help it.

“Wow, love you too.”

“Sure don't act like it!”

“What? I do!” You let up and he doubles over, gasping as he breaks into another fit of giggles. “How can I not?” He rubs his hand over his face, winded as he looks up at you, red eyes shining.

“What? Say that again? One more time for the audience in the back.” It’s meant to be an innocent tease, but for some reason, it sparks a knee-jerk wide-eyed reaction from him as a simple word slips from the depths of his very soul.

“Shit.”

“What?” You repeat, squinting at him. “What you just said, right? Going on about how I’m so lova—”

He begins to bounce restlessly in place, words coming out harsh and forced. “I didn’t say that.”

“Are you seriously trying to gaslight me? In broad daylight?”

“No. That was just a normal thing, you’re making it weird. Geez.” His iconic smirk warbles and it almost seems as if the heart over his eye begins to grow runny.

“What does that even mean?”

“Definitely not what you’re thinking.”

“Ace.” His whole body is flushing. It’s enough that you can make it out from his ears to the sliver of skin at his wrist. “Look at me.” He refuses, half a second from booking it. “Do you—”

Then, suddenly filled with resolve, he faces you properly... only to cup your cheeks and squish them together between his palms. “Ooooh we’re never going to talk about this! Let’s move on~” The voiceover is the worst that you’ve ever heard, high and lilted with fear and cheap falsettos.

The sound of your palms practically patty-caking Ace’s face into a sandwich bounces against the statues of the Seven surrounding you (what a familiar place). He winces but doesn’t let go as you two proceed to stand in an awkward, competitive deadlock. “I’m not letting go until you tell me what’s up.” You manage through squished lips.

“You’re annoying.” He grits his teeth in irritation, staring straight at your forehead like he was weighing the outcome of embarrassment and pain if he head-banged you and ran.

“No, you.”

“You’re such a kid.” Ace wiggles under your grip, attempting to escape only to fail to your stubbornness. “It took you this long to notice my feelings? Sevens, how dense can you get?”

You roll your eyes. “If you want to actually go out, the offer is about to expire in approximately three seconds.”

“Wait.” His grip slackens.

“Three...” You begin counting. “You’re kidding me.” His lips twitch, throat bobbing as panic begins to settle in.

“You’re not going to really make me—” You finish off in a singular breath. “Twoone.” 

“Wait, that’s cheating—hold up!”

“Should’ve confessed your undying love for me.”

“You’re the worst. You’re literally the absolute worst.” His thumb traces hearts on your cheekbones, words coming out breathless as the tension finally drops from his body. “Is this what you do? Play with a poor man’s feelings? Heart breaker much?”

“Yeah yeah, let me go and hold my hand already.” He obliges, shaking his head disbelievingly as his fingers come down to intertwine with your own. His grip is tight, assured this time as his pulse drums loud and steady against your wrist. Without a word, he squeezes your hand, just once, unabashed affection making itself fully apparent with your permission.

Though, you only get four steps ahead before Ace interrupts, “You had a crush on me? That’s embarrassing.”

“Oh my God. I can’t believe I’m going to break up with you already.”

“Too late. You signed the contract, breaking it involves a fee of seven million madols by tomorrow.” 

“Did I? Did I really? You didn’t even ask me out yet.”

With his free hand, he crosses his thumb and pointer, winking at you as he brings your interlocked hands up and presses a kiss to them. “Milad—”

“No.” He snorts, dropping it to swing your hands.

You see his mouth move, and the possibility occurs to you that maybe, for once in this lifetime, he’s about to say something profound. What comes out instead is: “Wouldn’t it be funny if we pretended we weren’t? Dating, I mean. Just for a week.” The grip on your hand gets tighter as he quickly backtracks, bothered. ”We’re still going to date afterward—no it’s non-negotiable—but I bet the guys wouldn’t notice a thing out of place.”

“Why?” Wasn’t Ace the type to hold it over their heads? Or, at the least, take the opportunity to be obnoxious about it?

“They’re the types who won’t notice even if you write it on their foreheads.” Reward of the year for I-Love-My-Friends goes to Ace Trappola, without a doubt. “Wanna see if they have a chance of noticing if we don’t tell them outright.”

You think about it for a moment, “Bet you’re gonna be the first one to expose yourself.”

“Says you.” He takes the opportunity to lean into you, lanky arms taking up space at your sides. “I’ll even bet Deuce on it.”

Not very far off in the distance, Deuce sneezes into his arm (properly! just like his mom had told him). “Ah, am I getting sick...?”

14:30 [ ace ]: “miss me?”

"What? Need me to say I do?” There’s an airy sort of tease to your tone, feather-light as it drifts down the empty halls. ”Down bad much?"

It’s entirely by accident that Jack—of all people—manages to overhear you as he scrambles to adjust his hold on a stack of boxes dangling precariously off of his arms. Did he just hear that correctly? The Ramshackle Prefect having a private conversation with... family (well, that doesn't make any sense considering your circumstances)? A long-distance friend...? Possibly?

“That’s not a no.” A lover?

“Loser, why wouldn’t I miss you?" His ears flatten with embarrassment, mentally cursing himself for having such good hearing as he presses his shoulder flat into the wall—a feeble attempt to stabilize the boxes. It worked, only temporarily, to slightly balance the cardboard already determined to give him several concussions.

After all, it’s not as if he could help the size of his ears or what they just happen to catch. It wasn’t like he meant to eavesdrop, especially on what seemed like such a private conversation. If he wasn't pressed for time or currently violating OSHA regulations, he would’ve absolutely upped and turned around to leave you to your privacy. You know... to be a good friend. But life (whoever said it was lemons didn’t consider it could be entire box fulls) was working against him. Dorm meetings, teacher favors, and the weight of the world practically rested in the room beyond—with you being the unintentional final boss blocking his way.

Whoever is on the other end seems to mirror his embarrassment, although for entirely different reasons. "Wow. It's almost like you like like me." The voice cracks, tinged pink as it trails off into a pathetic warble of a comeback.

"I mean... yeah? Isn't that obvious?"

The poor person on the other end starts to choke, "That's fucking cheesy." To each their own, but that sentiment was sweeter than it was cringe... at least, it was in Jack’s opinion.

Suddenly, something tips from a box and lands squarely on his head—right between his ears. The jarring sensation sends a jolt through him, lightning quick, and makes all his brain cells freeze to one singular thought: Wait. Like? Like... like? Can’t be. You literally said otherwise yesterday at lunch.

It was unclear how it exactly got from point “quit that, give my food back” to point “you ever think you’ll find someone here?” He really didn’t have any intentions, it was an absent-minded question. Really. But to say he wasn’t actually curious of your thoughts would be a complete lie.

“Relationships? At our NRC? Less likely than you think.” A fork hung from your mouth, suspended in your sarcasm. He distinctly remembers you squinting at him, huffing as your arms come out to gesture to the rest of the students surrounding you.

The fireplaces have exploded. A torrent of magic, roof high and smoldering, blazes unmercifully across students unfortunate enough to be close. There’s screaming. An entire portion of a half-eaten (and now charred) pastry lands directly on your lap. Someone breaks a window.

...All because a stray fire fairy in the kitchen got slop thrown on it. 

Your brow goes even higher as if to further contest his comment.

Fair enough. Jack had thought, handing you a napkin and ending the conversation at exactly that.

Did you suddenly change your stance? Was romance blossoming right under his nose?

And... doesn't that voice sound kind of familiar?

“Like you don’t like it.” He hears you laugh sweetly, “You gonna break my poor heart and pretend otherwise?” He can hear something akin to muffled cursing on the other end of the phone, rising in pitch, denial, and excuses. ”Eh? Did he hang up...?” 

There’s absolutely no way for him to prepare for the sequence of knob to hand to sheer, unadulterated pain as the door slams wide open and straight into your eavesdropper. "Jack?!"

Despite all his mental prayers to the Seven and a desperate grip, the boxes are knocked straight onto him and the floor, scattering an assortment of odd trinkets all over the ground. "Tsk—!" A broken bottle filled with some type of odd oil quickly spreads across the floors, making you both slip around and tumble until your knees pathetically hit the floor "Ow!"

“Jack... what the hell is this?”

Given up, no longer thriving, and lying face-down in the middle of the hall, Jack huffs out, “potion materials for Crewel.” His words come out loopy and muffled with a bit of a haze to them as his arm reaches forward and attempts to grab an orb spinning its way down the hall. He misses by just a hair and grunts in frustration as he begins to push himself up.  “Were you...” He starts before abruptly stopping himself, that’s none of my business.

You snatch up a stray pen rolling away on the floor and toss it into a box. “What were you saying?”

“Nothing.” He dismisses you with a shake of his head, clearing away some of the earlier haze. ”I just need to get into that room.”

“...Oh!” You have to avoid grimacing or slipping as the oil seeps into your clothes, but gingerly the two of you slowly manage to become upright once again. “Here, let me help then.” He beams at you in appreciation as the both of you make quick work of the scattered materials. Recovering what you can of several broken bottles, everything gets put back into place and Jack is sent back on his merry way to his dorm—only a minute pressed for time.

When he arrives, out of breath and with shirt sleeves stained olive oil yellow, Jack groans, unable to hold back his immense disappointment. Was the whole catastrophe earlier for nothing? Were they really having a dorm meeting about someone making “snowmen” out of people’s shedding?

Pause. Wait. That is really weird.

Several Savanaclaw students squabble, pointing fingers at each other while Leona lazily watches on uninterested. Jack begins to astrally ascend out of sheer disbelief, scuffing his foot into the floor as someone attempts to sneak away—only to have multiple shoes thrown at their head. Loud conversation floats vaguely in and out of his head, but something much more pressing catches his attention. The Prefect dating someone... couldn’t be, I’m overthinking it.

📞 [ call ended ]

Somewhere, on the other end of a phone, a certain someone throws an arm over his face now burned crimson—his thumb still hovering right where the screen blinks your name. "Fuck, didn’t mean to hang up but...” He slumps down further over his desk, wanting to melt in shame. “At least it's over phone, but argh—! This is lame." He drags his hand down his face, internally debating if he should jump out the window or just call you back.

“Ace. Your phone. Now.” Trein’s voice echoed from the front of the detention classroom.

Shit.

Epel makes a face like he's swallowed an entire handful of sour cherries. "What's got you looking at your phone so much?"

Your fingers stop over the keyboard, "Uh." With a very deep gravity, as if the answer was something he couldn't afford to hear, you reply in the gravest tone possible, "Your mom."

You practically have to throw your body out of the way to avoid the round-house kick Epel aims at your head.

You're out shopping together, juggling the assortments that you've gotten from Sage Island’s most popular tourist spots. With your hands full and mouth muffled by a snack, you order, "Camf fu sorch up wheof the fefenal," yeah, he has no clue what you're saying, "onmf phon?"

Phone. Got it. He digs your phone from your pocket and, with much difficulty, swipes it open after nearly butchering your passcode to lock point. "For Seven's sake, put yer snack down already and properly speak!" He grumbles, grabbing your thumb and pressing it to your phone to open the damn thing up and search the location for... fefenal?

Though, as he types it up, your past searches float and bubble up.

> why does my cat keep drooling on me

> if i boil an egg in gatorade does it taste like gatorade

> date spots

Cause yer cat loves ya dumbass... why in the Sevens would you even think about that... wait. Wait. Date spots? He looks at you, then at himself in a shop mirror, then back at you. No... you wouldn't force someone to spend hours debating fruit freshness for a date... right? Though, to be very fair, he was good at telling which fruit was ripe and the tastiest. But you'd do better than that for a date, right?

"What were you looking for again?"

Finally, you answer him with a clear mouth. "General store." He gives you a weird look when you return a "what?"

"...Wouldja go on a date for fruit?"

"...Huh?"

"Nevermind." 

"I mean—" Suddenly, a notification flashes across your screen. "tomorrow at noon, right?"

"Huh?" You repeat.

Epel simply shakes his head, "Clown emoji... second place emoji? Just texted you that and n’ a bunch of flame emojis." You look at him confused. "...One of the hearts is on fire?"

"Oh... Oh! Can you send back an image from my gallery?" He obliges and looks through the first five images.

"What the fuck is this."

"Don't worry."

"Whose mouth is this? Why do you have 15 photos of the inside of someone's mouth?!"

"Floyd."

"Ah."  Makes sense. He sends the grossest one. A ping later and he instantly sees... a chin photo of Vil? Epel snorts, barreling down as he chuckles louder. "Pfta! Haha! Like this? Serves 'em right to look ugly for a change!"

"Hold up, lemme see." You lean over and start to snort too, "What do you mean? He looks really good right there."

"Don't kid! He’d kill ya if he saw this!"

"Never!" As the two of you absolutely rag on Vil (lovingly... probably) and proceed with your day, the thought that had begun worming its way into Epel's mind lingers even as the both of you miserably pile crates of apples into a carriage: could’ve sworn the number under that stupid nickname seemed familiar... and what’s with that search history?

It’s horrible that such a nice sort of day was spent preparing for the next interim level of Hell that Trein deemed fit to sentence everyone to during a lovely week that truly didn’t deserve such misery. After all, there was really only one way to make any possible preparations for the upcoming onslaught...

Studying. Oh, the… horror.

It was the three of you in preparation for Magical Analysis. Sure, Sebek and Ace seemed to have a knack for it, but it was a different matter altogether to apply it in practical form with a group.

Squabbling amongst yourselves, Ace, out of air from arguing, falls back onto you with a grumble. “Sheesh, it’d be so much easier if you just did it this way y’know.”

“And stoop to rewriting the work of an upperclassman’s past project? Of course, humans wouldn’t have any understanding of what dignity might mean.” His prattling continues as he sweeps his pencil over a scrap piece of paper in frustration. “Nevertheless, integrity.” Wow, he was really taking it out on that miserable little pencil—the eraser gone to the metal line.

Ace rolls his eyes and looks at you. Knowing him better than anyone, you can tell he wants to ditch or at least shovel more work unto Sebek in unwarranted revenge. Without even bothering to hide it, he mouths to you, “C’mon, if he wants to be so righteous, he can do this damn project himself.” You kick him under the table, but he easily defends himself with the flat of his shoe. “Loser.” He taunts, low enough for you to barely catch it.

Oh? So, it’s like that today.

By the time Sebek actually notices is when you finally go silent. He turns his head up in confusion to see your face fluster and Ace looking at you with smug victory that Sebek mistakes for rivalry. "Hmph! Children! Are you so dependent on one another that you can't separate?" Sebek grunts, peering under the table to where Ace's hand rests squarely on your calf, dipping under the fabric to firmly stop your attacks against his stomach as your legs—practically in his lap—kick at him to let you go.

Your voices reach him in almost perfect sync,

"Something like that."

"I’m twice the man he could ever be...!"

Sebek only scoffs and tears another sheet of blank paper out. “That simply proves my point. Two idiots make a pair.”

Ace snorts, pressing deeper into your leg to tip you slightly onto the ground. On instinct, you reach out, grabbing onto his neck in what would seem like a romantic interaction if it didn’t jerk his head and cause him to nose dive down straight onto the table. “Fuck!”

“Sorry! Shit, you okay?” You fuss over him, patting his face and forehead despite his wincing.

“If you really felt bad, you wouldn’t be smirking.”

“Oops, was I?”

He sulks and leans closer to you, reveling in the pampered treatment for a minute more... until he pulls out your chair and unceremoniously nearly drops you to the floor before childishly catching you last minute. “Ace!”

Sebek, exasperated, watches this all with a sigh, he wasn’t ever going to get anything done with you two, huh?

....But to his surprise, you guys do make timely work somehow and manage to finish everything with time to spare. Sebek doesn’t even give a second thought to your shenanigans nor how close the two of you were, opting to think: Seven, they’re idiots, completely unaware of Ace sneaking a kiss to your forehead in cheeky revenge.

Deuce pauses, sniffing the air. "What smells like cherries?" Unconsciously, he brings his shirt up to his nose, double-checking himself as he sniffs the collar of his shirt. “Do you smell it too?”

"We're in the middle of the Gym, there’s a lot more smells than that,” you reply absent-mindedly. A ball idly rolls by your foot, remnants of the game only a couple minutes prior before the two of you were forcefully assigned cleanup duty. ”Maybe you smell something from the cafeteria?"

"It's not that." His hands squeeze around a basketball, confidence assured in his words as he spins it around in his hands. "The cafeteria doesn't serve cherries on Wednesday. That’s a Friday thing."

"Huh, really? Is that why Ace always drags us to eat there then?"

"Yeah, you never noticed?" He turns back, genuinely curious as he watches your reaction. "That's why he always gets so excited."

"I mean, we always eat cherry stuff every other Unbirthday though? Which is like, literally, almost every other day of the week. Don't know why he'd get so amped at the cafe."

"Maybe it tastes better...?"

"Better than Trey's?"

"Hmm..."

As the two of you ponder, Deuce's eyes settle on your jacket. “Huh? Where’d you get a Heartslabyul varsity from?”

“Stole it,” you say simply, much to the baffled—near horrified—expression that dawns on Deuce’s face. “C’mon, you think I stole it from Riddle or something?” He looks so stressed that you’d even suggest something so terrifying that he almost stops breathing. “Deuce! No! Think.”

“...Diamond-senpai...? He’s nice enough?”

“I mean, I do have some clips he’s given me. But no.”

“Clover-senpai? Maybe?”

“Wouldn’t it be bigger?” He squeezes his eyes shut, using all of the power in his singular brain cell to come up with answers—but to no avail, even as you walk away to grab a broom. It takes him until another class change that, when you finally leave the locker room and you’re bending down to retie your shoes, Deuce rushes to you to boldly and confidently announce, “ACE!”

“Took you long enough,” you sigh, rolling up your sleeves as the sun beats down hard. “Speaking of, lemme text him that we’re done.” You pull out your phone to go into your recents, a long log of clown emojis filling it. Eh...? It seemed like you called a... clown a lot? Did you get something with the circus? Before he can ask, a clown emoji pops up on the screen. “Speak of the devil.”

“Wait. Am I a clown on your phone?”

“Maybe.”

“Hey!” He looks to you, pleading for confirmation. “I am? Really?”

“I would never...! Probably.” You maneuver the phone to your ear where inaudible sounds from the phone continue, vaguely the cadence of ranting. “Oh, hold up, he’s asking me to meet him. I’ll see you later, Deuce.”

"The clown...?" He watches you go in confusion, mind spinning as he thinks about clowns and, weirdly enough, a recent complaint Ace had about missing clothes. He remembers a wry, affectionate smile on his face as he shut his closet doors and sighed. It wasn’t like him to lose things and he seemed to know who took them. So... really, that guy relented enough to let you borrow something from him? He grimaced at the memory of Ace letting him walk around with his bright pink leopard print jacket, jabbing him without mercy.

Well, whatever. You guys were all best friends after all. It wasn’t a big deal anyway. Maybe you’d ask to borrow Deuce’s leopard print soon.

It is of the utmost importance that the highest council come together... for a sleepover to watch the latest horror movie that had appeared in home theaters. But, more than that, there was an immediate emergency of the highest level that needed to be addressed: drama. The tea needed to be prepped, served and spilled.

Or so Epel spits out (albeit in a much rougher manner), lifting his shoulders high in the air like he was ready to start his villain marketing monologue. "Is it just me or has the Prefect been weird lately? Not weird weird or nothin’, just that... ugh!" He shifts his eyes around, getting quieter with each frustrated syllable. Despite the fact that you were gone for a quick snack run, it still felt wrong to gossip in your house... place… dilapidated building. But he desperately needed to know he wasn’t going crazy.

"Really? They seem the same as ever to me.” Deuce chimes in, balancing a bowl of popcorn on his leg as he mindlessly picks off burnt pieces lining the top.

"They were searching some weird stuff—" Unconvinced, Epel spins toward Jack, gesturing to him and waiting like he knew the answer. "Ya think they're... fancying someone?"

“It’s their private business.” Jack settles firmly, replying with what he deemed as a solid, mature, and impartial response. “I’m sure that the Prefect isn’t interested anyway. Night Raven College is far too chaotic for romance.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then why’d the Prefect search up somethin' like date spots? Huh? What’d ya got to say about that?”

“If you’re on Sage Island, date spots are practically the equivalent to tourist spots. Maybe they’re looking for nice places. Don’t overthink it, Epel.”

Epel, more worked up than ever, smashes his hand into a bowl of gummies, stuffs them all in his mouth, and viciously proclaims in one go: “Then why’re they texting so much! Huh? Huh?!”

“...That’s just texting?”

“I think they made a clown friend,” Deuce unhelpfully adds. “I saw them calling a clown emoji a lot.”

“It was a clown emoji...” A lightbulb goes off in Epel’s head as he slams the table in front of him, shaking off bits of popcorn onto the floor that causes Sebek to promptly scowl. “Don’t do that to the popcorn!”

“Oh, shut yer trap. Big talk from someone who’s not helpin’ anyway.” Epel huffs, but leans down and scoops the pieces off of the floor, popping them into his mouth without a second thought. The jab works well enough though as Sebek straightens up, a twitch on his forehead.

“On the contrary,” he begins, voice loud and booming at a decibel that makes everyone wince, “they’re too focused on playing to be dating. When I worked with them and Ace, they were lolly-gagging around without a care! If they’re going to bother dating someone, it’d be Ace and we’d all know already.”

Everyone but Jack nods in agreement. Imagining the Prefect and Ace, of all people, dating? Nah. They’d seen you fill his shoes with spaghetti sauce once because he used up all your salt and left the container. It just... didn’t seem like you had that kind of relationship. "True, I really only see 'em with Ace all the time, maybe he’d know something?"

On the other side of the couch, Jack frowns, opens his mouth, and then promptly decides to close it as he quietly surveys the scene with a pensive, furrowed brow.

There’s a clue now, a distinct, visible connection: Clowns. Of course, it had to either be a potential relationship or your career plans. “But about that clown emoji... I think I remember the number.” It’s gotta be the former, Epel decides. If it was the latter, wouldn’t you have tried honking your nose or something? "I’m gonna call it." 

Jack puts his face into his hands, having a moral crisis as he mumbles, “...wouldn’t they think that you’re a spam number?”

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” Epel pops another kernel into his mouth as he chews it in thought. “Think it had a triple seven in it somewhere...” He slowly mashes a key string of numbers together, erases, retypes, cusses.

Peering over Epel’s shoulder, unable to hide his curiosity, Deuce points out, "Isn’t the first bit the Kingdom of Hearts area code? Are you sure you remember the right code?"

“How would the Prefect know someone from the Kingdom of Roses outside of NRC?” Sebek muses aloud, unable to help himself either.

"Shouldn't we respect the Prefect's privacy?" Jack attempts once more, seeming as if he was shrinking with every busy tone Epel got stopped at. Yet, he continues to be ignored as Epel only calls the number again... and again... and again. "Hey... it's not our business."

"I got it damn it!" Stronger than any military man, Epel, the lone soldier, continues to push forward in his self-made journey. "Just give me a bit!" He keeps typing away, accidentally calling up a pizza place that makes everyone collectively groan. "C’mon, I’ve just about got it."

"Even if the Prefect were hypothetically in a relationship. Okay. Courting takes much time and requires a substantial amount of effort and persistence. I have not seen hair nor signs of lovestruck gooey eyes. Trust me, my parents are disgustingly in love. I would know." The scowl on Sebek’s face deepens, "we would've caught the Prefect by now!"

Deuce startles up, wide-eyed and mouth gaping as he blankly stares at everyone in pure shock, “WAIT... what? The Prefect is dating someone?"

"It took you this long?"

"WHO?!" Sevens help him, Jack was going to come home with premature wrinkles at the age of 16.

After about ten minutes of furious tapping, Epel’s thumb slips over the worn keypad and lands on one. His eyes, hazed over in delirium, border madness as he maniacally shakes his phone in victory. "Got it! This is it! Didja see that one?!"

"You sure? Pretty sure your thumb just..."

"I swear if you try sayin’ somethin’ silly, I’m gonna take my—"

"Then... why's Ace coming up on the screen?"

"Huh?" He erases, squeezes his eyes really hard, and types in the number that he sees in his head again.

 It's Ace.

“Nah, that doesn't make sense.” Epel sounds nearly hysterical at this point. He calls again and goes straight to a cheery-toned voicemail that mocks everything Epel had ever known. 

Unaware of the literal red swirling in Epel’s eyes, Deuce, having calmed down, happily nods with complete confidence, "Oh, it's probably auto-corrected to his number.”

“Phones do that?”

“...Maybe?”

Epel furiously spams the number anyway, not caring even if it was Ace. His frustrations were immeasurable, reaching an all-time new high. The levels were exceedingly dangerous, beyond over blotting with only one possible outlet it could vent to: Ace’s phone (and his dumb voicemail). In an effort to somehow abate Epel’s rage, Deuce gently puts his phone down and makes his own attempts at calling the number. "Maybe your phone is wrong, let me try from mine." Sebek, who looks very lost, does so too.

Through very pointed, timed coughs, Jack taps the table to get everyone's attention. “...ack. The Prefect should—uheum—return any minute now.” However, being the group of idiots that they are, it only brings about a different change, somehow switching to the topic of who it could possibly be. 

"Grim?" The little guy wasn’t around, somehow off meandering for the day or sleeping the evening away somewhere else in the dorm. "Maybe the Prefect's upped their pet pampering. Something like he’s being a grouch and they're having to give him more attention than usual."

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the Prefect succumbed to giving Grim a phone.” Would paw pads work on a phone screen though?

The answers quickly devolve, becoming more ludicrous as Epel casually brushes away Grim's possibility. "Think about it seriously won’t ya? If the Prefect is in love... No, Jack’s right—that wouldn’t make a lick of sense with...” He waves his hand vaguely around at the comfortable but still dilapidated state of Ramshackle. “What if the Prefect’s possessed? Having to step through life fulfilling the sad, unrequited love of a ghost..." It wasn’t as if the events of the whole ghost bride shenanigans were all that far away anymore—quite literally living in the walls of NRC. It was just yesterday that Idia, out of all people, was, for once, the most eligible bachelor of all the lands.

“Wasn’t that whole deal done and over with already?”

“Hm. Probably.” Epel concedes, still vaguely worried.

Sebek leaned forward on his knees, a perfect replica of The Thinker as he genuinely considered the possibilities. "I think... If we haven’t caught them, then it has to be someone who doesn’t go to the NRC. Perhaps it’s someone from RSA?”

“Like Neige?”

“Or, do you think it could—”

"Or maybe... you guys need to learn to quit it!" Ace, missing from the scene, all but tackles Epel as he shoves his phone directly into his face.

"It's important!" Despite his face mushed into a phone screen, Epel doesn’t hesitate to immediately throw fists as he scrabbles to knee the intruder. "We think the Prefect is datin’ someone and keeping it a secret!"

A look of complete incredulity passes over Ace's face. He momentarily stops squishing his phone into Epel’s forehead, twists his eyebrows, and then smoothly says with a shit-eating grin, "Yeah, you notice it too?

"SEE, I wasn’t goin’ crazy!" All is forgiven. Friendship? Restored. Epel, more than happy to present the evidence, drops his fists to recount the facts index to pinky. “They’ve been on the phone non-stop with someone.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s super suspicious. I bet they’re giggling and kicking their feet too.” Ace, grabbing a handful of Deuce’s popcorn with his other hand, pops it into his mouth and blinks doeishly while twirling his hair. “What else? Catch them making lovestruck eyes? Swooning? Are they writing love letters?”

“No. That’s the weird part.” Epel gets to his pinky, souring as he recollects your latest actions. “Searching up date spots...”

“Hm, really?” Ace, no remorse, continues to be a complete asshole, liar, and gaslighter. "Look, I think the cards are all on the table. The Prefect is head over heels no doubt. Sound agreement. Completely agree." He grounds his feet and pushes forward, back to his phone-spam vengeance mission, but Epel doesn’t budge. His resolve is only strengthened by sheer willpower and probably far too much adrenaline as he attempts to sock Ace directly in the throat.

Much to his chagrin, Ace dances out of the way snickering “sucker!” But the bated breaths of stars and divine karma decide, hey this guy’s a little too full of himself, and shake loose the grip on his phone.

“Oh shit.” It happens in slow motion, the cherry-colored phone spinning round and round until it slots perfectly in the middle of the table for all to see two perfectly immaculate coincidences appear. Ace’s phone opens—a beacon of undeniable guilt—to a sweet, innocent lock screen of him pressing a kiss to your cheek... in his varsity. Then, if that wasn’t enough, your conveniently timed texts appear, rendering Ace to repeat solemnly to himself, “Oh shit.”

18:16 [ y/n ]: hey can you open the door my hands are full

18:22 [ y/n ]: like. right now

18:22 [ y/n ]: you LEAVE prefect? you leave me in the cold? oh! oh! jail for boyfriend! jail for the worst boyfriend for One Thousand Years!

18:22 [ y/n ]: wait i didn’t mean it

18:28 [ y/n ]: babygirl please

Deuce can scarcely believe his eyes, barely registering the texts or the lock screen as he utters out a single, profound word torn out from the deepest depths of his soul. "WHAT."

Sebek, not registering the picture, reacts point-blank. "Did the Prefect call you babygirl?"

The most ardently passionate Epel stares and processes the new evidence quietly, “wait...” It clicks. “IT WAS YOU.”

"It was obvious guys..." From the very start, Sebek had even accidentally guessed it.

"YOU'RE DATING THE PREFECT?!" Et Tu, Ace? Just like this? Deuce had never felt such betrayal, never like this before. Such... deception!

"WHAT," Sebek’s voice steadily gets louder to match everyone else, baffled by the turn of events. “WHAT DOES BABYGIRL MEAN?”

Not knowing what to do with his hands or rage, Epel begins to put Ace into a headlock.

Jack leaves the room in second-hand embarrassment.

Ace, tongue in cheek and barely able to hold in his laughter, allows himself to be manhandled—but not without chaos. "Um? You didn't know? Wasn't it obvious?" He gives Sebek a smug smile in particular, "Didn't you catch my hands literally under their clothes?"

Sebek gawks, turning bright red as he flails, "ISN'T THAT NORMAL FOR YOU GUYS?"

The pieces all come together. It was the footsies in your study session, the recognizable jacket during gym, an eavesdropped conversation, a much-too-revealing search history.

It’s you finally coming in with the snacks—carefree as ever—opening the door with an "I'm back!" to only be blasted by a chorus of "YOU'RE DATING ACE?" 

You blink. The snacks drop. You’re out the door.

Jack reappears to pick up the snacks while Deuce knocks over the table and falls to the floor as Epel flies over his head to give chase—barraging you with questions of “Since when?!” and ”Why are you running?!”

"It's only been a week!" This little man is chasing you so fast oh my God how is he so fast. “Stop chasing me!”

Deuce finally breaks out of his stupor to go, "Now, wait just a minute...!" and slams his head up into Sebek’s stomach where he chokes on the popcorn. The two first-years groan, rolling around on the ground and couch as Ace makes eye contact with Jack, shrugs, and runs to catch up to the distant screaming (you) and threats that most certainly break the Geneva Convention (Epel).

Well, more like a light, easy jog as he arrives to Epel finding a spare branch and full-on frisbeeing it at your head, fully intent on taking you down without care of any possible casualties. It was war. If this was how you went, death via a guy whose parents really thought it was a good idea to name their son Apple™, then you mentally decided all of your meager earnings as a janitor and de facto therapist at this cursed college would go to Jamil. Sevens knows he deserves it.

“Epel!” So worked up on adrenaline, Epel’s head instantly whips around to face Ace... only to realize his mistake a second later as you kick his knees in and run, Ace close behind as he passes by and tussles his hair for good measure.

“This isn’t over yet!” Epel hollars, cussing you two out with every name under the sun. “Y'all ain’t seen nothing yet, I swear when I get to you—”

Ace’s lips curl with mocking delight as he throws his head back and laughs from the rush of your moonlit escapade. “Yada yada, he’ll calm down eventually... probably.” He was this excited to dupe his friends? "Pfft... haha! Sheesh, took 'em long enough!" Ridiculous. 

What a stupid, endearing idiot (your idiot). "Took you long enough. Where were you?" Ace’s hand is warm as it finds yours.

His timing is off by only a second before he replies, a little bit hopeful, “What? Miss me already?”

(Yes.)

You think, for a long moment, before reaching up and pressing a kiss underneath his jaw. “No.”

In response, Ace's hand squeezes your shoulder as he pulls you closer with a wide, genuine smile. “Liar.” Keeping you close as the two of you escape into the night, hand in hand.

♥♥

end a/n: hello! happy holidays!! i am also so late to the collab: i am so sorry—but i hope that this being longer makes up for it lmao. a lot has happened this year (not necessarily bad things!) but definitely. exhausting ones haha—so it made this piece really difficult to get out. BUT I DID IT. MA YA SEE THAT? I DID IT—so with all my heart, i sincerely hope that you enjoy this piece and maybe laughed a little. because ! that makes it all the more worth it! so, again, thank you for reading about this little foolish lil guy

[dearmizumi]

I felt sad

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2024: ALWAYS COMING HOME by Ursula K. Le Guin.

The people have Spoken, so I'll be reading this 618-page brick next! The cover page credits the author, an artist, a composer, a geomancer (??), and the author of the intro, so. I suspect I'm in for a Ride™. I am both Excited and Intimidated--will report back on how this goes!

[takaraphoenix]

No, actually, I’ll not just be generally vaguely upset about the framework that pisses me off, I will also be specifically pissed off about the way he’s trying to pat himself on the back and rewrite history.

So having a gay character be brave by coming out and that bravery be an inspiration to other queer characters so they can be brave and come out too is something that comes off poor on its own already - because of the shallow framework that our existence alone is already oh-so brave of us and that others wouldn’t have dared come out if not for Major Queer Character who did it first.

But there is something particularly twisted and nasty about Riordan using this for Nico di Angelo, actually.

Because Nico di Angelo didn’t come out.

Nico di Angelo didn’t get to be brave or inspirational.

Nico di Angelo was forced out of the closet.

Nico di Angelo was outed against his will, in front of others.

Eros forced Nico to come out in front of Jason.

And, quite frankly, the way it was handled further was just as poor. To make this repressed teen from the 1930s, who up until mere days ago was dealing with severe internalized homophobia and couldn’t even admit his own feelings to himself, confess his crush in public, in the middle of camp...

Both of these events really just showed that Riordan is a straight man who doesn’t know this, and didn’t do his research beforehand.

And people just love giving Riordan the benefit of the doubt. Love giving him a pass and clapping him on the shoulder for the inclusion and for trying. And you know what! Yeah, I do love that he includes the gays. I do not think he should get excused for handling representation like shit though.

And this? This is in his newest book? You should think authors grow. Best selling authors should do more research. Get consultants. Stuff like that.

Instead, we’re going back and rewriting history. That forced coming out? Now a moment of bravery and inspiration for others!! Look how great and amazing that is!

Nico di Angelo didn’t get to choose that he was ready to come out, it wasn’t a moment of bravery. Not the kind of bravery that it takes when you are ready to face your personal truth and willingly take the step to own it. It was a moment of fear and desperation. And it was the bravery to face that fear and desperation.

And it really makes me sick to now learn that we’re looking back at it and pretending otherwise, in-universe.

[piningpercussionist]

Here's Kim Pine smoking weed

And here's her smoking w the DHCs. Brought to you by Discord Shenanigans and my Unhinged Mind

[britneyshakespeare]

you: nicholas alexander chavez, the actor from ryan murphy's recent work

me, a mama's girl and daytime tv viewer:

[nobodybetterlookatme]

Update 2: the germaphobia didn't win bc he sneezed so hard he cried kinda and I can't not hug the people I like when there's tears so that's where we're at now lmao I'm literally so fucked but at least I'm not doing anything the next week 😭 checked him over since caution has been thrown to the wind, dude for sure has the flu but I'm hoping I can dodge it bc I got vaccinated so fingers crossed there. Ran out of tissues, so he's resorted to napkins and his jacket which isn't nearly as hot irl as it is in fic, but this is what it's come to 😔 also he's gone through three more masks and I'm lowkey scared he's gonna run out of those too 😭😭

[carnographix]

The Serperrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

@theyaoiparable

[spockandawe]

Wowie zowie, i went straight from office to airport, then coming back i went straight from airport to office, and these decisions make sense from a 'these are the work things i need to accomplish' perspective, but the ragrets are currently being expressed as a stream of indistinct upset hurgling right now