#I don’t believe he’s going to win but the fact it’s even in question terrifies me

[msfcatlover]

Here’s hoping “No Facism Tuesday” is a holiday the whole* nation agrees to celebrate today.

*At least enough to keep the actual fucking convicted felon/wannabe dictator out of office.

[where-dreams-dwell]

Loving the complexity of Madeline Ushers character: a woman who declares she doesn’t want to be limited by men, who’s life is defined at every turn by the decisions and actions of her brother.

……

Madeline Usher is doomed by her attachment to her brother, and it is the root of all her eventual pain.

When Verna offers them the deal, it’s Roderick who ‘charges forward, straight at it’ and accepts the terms despite the fact that the only ‘next generation’ they current have are his kids. Madeline agrees afterwards but only once Rodrick makes it know he is already in. I don’t think she’d have gone for it if he had objected, she’s always had a very ‘both of us or neither’ kind of attitude.

And then she is as much these kids parent (from what we have seen) as Roderick is. Granted we see next to nothing of the kids biological mothers so we have to assume they weren’t very involved (either by their choice or other circumstance) with their kids after Rodrick got his claws into them.

That first scene when we meet Perry Madeline and Roderick are equally dismissive of him, but she is the one asking questions and prompts: you’ve had a year to come up with an idea, is this it or is there more? How are you going to make this successful? Why will your pitch be different? She even asks Roderick to jump in ‘anytime now’ to help her handle this train wreck. And Rodrick has just received the news he’s dying but I think it’s telling that Perry is looking at both of them for validation, for support. They are equally intimidating but equally supporting him.

With Camille we don’t get 1-2-1 interactions between her and her father (despite her own obsession with winning his approval) but we do get a scene with Madeline. After Perry’s death Camille lobbies to be given the power to lead the family’s PR response, and Madeline takes her seriously and asks what she would do. When Camille lays out her plan it’s Madeline who gives a proud nod of approval and okays her actions.

Leo unfortunately gets no parental interactions from either senior Usher. Victorine only gets it right at the end just before her monstrous actions are revealed. Otherwise all she gets from Roderick is pressure and the interactions of an investor, not a father.

Tammy gets the most parental interaction from Madeline, which is tragic as she’s trying to show her father that she can be the heir to his empire. But her aunt is the one who shows up to her presentation, who gives her the pep talk, consoles Tammy (in her own way) about the failure of her marriage, who believes Tammy when she is terrified by someone in the crowd.

Frederik is always focused on his father so Madeline doesn’t get many moments with him, but again Roderick is more of a CEO or boss than a father: focused on how to protect the company, how to secure the future. Little to no concern or support to his son as he mourns his wife’s injuries, as he deals with his siblings deaths, as he takes on more pressure from the world and the family. Roderick only mourns his son (as opposed to his heir) after Fredrick is dead.

Added to this: the security on all the kids? Madeline arranges it. When more kids die? We see Madeline demand it be doubled. She’s the only one still fighting for them, fighting fate itself.

With Lenore we see more interactions with her and Roderick but her interactions with Madeline are just as sweet and show a close, loving relationship. Lenore even calls her Granny Madeline. And Madeline is the one planning to preserve Lenore via AI: this must have been the main reason she begged Roderick to kill himself. Not to save her to but to spare Lenore. What’s the bet that she started working on the AI project in earnest when Morelle announced she was pregnant?

Madeline tracks down the supernatural entity they made a deal with and tries to negotiate a new deal: again (now we know the original terms) this is likely for Lenore’s benefit, not hers. She faces down a power far beyond herself and tries to save or protect what’s left of her family. Not Roderick.

Madeline took steps to preserve and protect her nieces and nephews, and grand niece while her brother did next to nothing. Once you know the nature of their deal with Verna, Roderick’s attitude to his remaining children after they remember who Verna is is just baffling.

Madeline even makes reference to birth control that she took on the off chance the deal was real. She says to Tammy that she didn’t want children with her first husband and hasn’t since, but she has been a mother to Rodericks kids. This lack of biological motherhood hasn’t spared her for the heartbreak of loosing a child. Or a grandchild.

And it’s even the decision of a man (again her brother) which is going to end her family’s legacy in another way. His marriage to Juno, his treatment of her, his denial of her fight to get clean and his horrible reference to himself as Victor Frankenstein and Juno as his monster - this is what pushes her to sign away the company when she inherits it. Madeline speaks about the board choosing her and moving the company away from pharmaceuticals, into the fields of AI and tech. Sure Madeline then died but a lot of the groundwork was likely there, and it could have been a possible path for the company. If Juno didn’t inherit it all and break it apart. Because of Roderick, and the way he treated her. Once again Madeleine’s legacy is destroyed by her brothers actions.

The irony of 1970’s Madeline declaring she doesn’t want to be limited by men’s choices or by a man, taking steps to protect her self and her heart, focussing her work on things outside of medical drugs in the hope that one day that can be what they become known for… then being doomed to more heartbreak and failure by every one of her brothers careless actions is so sadly tragic.

[oceansarepink]

Trying to analyse apology tour just feels like sorting through slop

The opening is bizarre. A silent treatment has blitz crawling back to be listened to, his personality has done a large backflip from the angry pained person he was the day before. To a grinning idiot trying to make his first fan like him again.

He is used in the same way now as he was in the stupid opening song of the previous - for “mean” careless sex jokes, to be contrasted against the overly sensitive weepy, whiny, half self pitying half self aggrandising “woe is me” Prince. Who is just so above that sort of thing because he’s a deep, generous, kind, occasionally naive and silly innocent romantic precious baby boi with sad backstory. Oh brother. Bring out the violins.

This type of bias from the solo author, Medrano, is just embarrassingly obvious. She gives stolas every win, all of his points are framed as right, she only lets the other character argue if he incriminates himself by warped facts, in a way that can contribute to stolas being right. She doesn’t even try and write this as an “argument.” It’s a case of her favourite OC evar educating and schooling the OC she is less fond of right now, with his superior mind and superior super deep beautiful emotions always put in a background of stars and constellations. Feelings that in truth, don’t go beyond “I want you around cause I’m lonely.”

In between making him cry and weep for our pity, she adds in moments of unfounded indignant behaviour, rage that his privilege dare be questioned, moments of malicious torment, and shaming. Copious amounts of shame. All to pleasure her audience with the satisfaction of stolas winning.

He is just enraged that his ‘feelings’ of attachement that define his identity at this point, are not being returned adequately with acts of servitude, praise, flattery, and gratitude. And while this biased scene is bad enough, Verosika has to be inserted to enable stolas and build him up as if Vivziepop isn’t doing it enough herself with this writing. Because as we probably all know, stolas doesn’t have any friends of his own. He only has Blitzøs adversaries to join with, or a loved one who Blitz is arguing with, to back him up because doing that makes blitz pissed off.

Nobody can defend stolas without just projecting their own feelings about something else, onto him. Or regurgitating his frankly irrelevant tragic backstory. Because this writer knows this is a very bare bones argument she’s trying to make. You have to squint terribly hard and erase a lot of events to make the owl look good and most importantly, look right. Because he isn’t. He’s a creep who believes he fell in love with his object and has never stopped treating him as just an object to throw gifts at in exchange for his loyalty.

He speaks in this whimpery, shaky but loud and overpowering voice, commanding the whole situation. But is given tears in his eyes between each breath enough that you don’t question it. It’s very hard to watch.

The party. What ensues is vivziepop having a slightly worrying fixation with torturing blitz and wishing death on him, using countless nameless voiceless characters as props. And all of them exist, of course, to be enablers of stolas and make him look morally good and correct. But they’re also made into such filthy commoners that the dear pretty clean beautiful prince is terrified of their barbaric rituals. Verosika while rich, is still his emotional support poor.

“He is better than him, he is better than all of them, he is better than everyone. He cries, he gives gifts, he sings songs about his lovely love. Stinky blitz only talks about penises and cloaca’s and says fuck. Stol’s is just so silly, he is baby. Poor baby. Speak from your heart baby.He deserves so much. He sings so fantastic. If you don’t think so, kill yourself.”

.

.

Definition of trying too hard. If you’re a writer and one of your OCs takes this much of an emotional hold over you, you need to stop writing and re-evaluate.

[object-show-analysis]

Since the new Inanimate Insanity episode has came out, I am SO confused about Nickel and Baseball and how it was mentioned in the episode. If it's okay with you, could you clear it up for me?

I’d be happy to! I can definitely see how it can be confusing so I’ll do my best to clear things up.

A big conflict in this episode was Silver Spoon and Candle vs. Nickel, Balloon, and Bot. When the episode starts, Candle and Silver are spying on the other three. That’s when they learn that it’s Nickel, Balloon, and Bot’s goal to get to the final three together. Obviously this would be bad for Silver and Candle, because that would mean they do not win.

Candle mentions that she knows there’s a tainted history between the team of three (Nickel and Balloon’s rocky past in seasons 1 and 2) but she doesn’t know the specifics of it. However she knows someone who will know the specifics.

Cabby.

The implication we’re supposed to make here is that they’re going to attempt to use this information to drive the team apart, giving them a better chance at success.

So Silver bribes Cabby for a file. Making her feel like she has no other choice but to help him, because he’s offering to save her from elimination

We never see exactly what he asked for. But we do see later that she gave him the file on Baseball. We can assume he asked for information on Nickel and Balloon’s past in some way, because all he knows at this time is that they’ve had a rough history.

Now I think this is where most people get confused on exactly what’s going on. To understand what happens next, it’s important to keep in mind that this is All that Silver and Candle know. They never met Baseball or Suitcase. They never saw Season 2. No one ever talked about what happened between Nickel and Balloon. All they have to go off of are the files, which we’ve seen in the past are full of limited and basic information. So when they open up Baseball’s file and read it, they are given a VERY simplified and description of events that’s lacking a lot of nuance

They don’t understand at all what actually happened. I don’t think anyone would describe what happened as “Baseball and Nickel got split up because Balloon went rogue.” But they’re working with very limited information.

They approach Nickel with this same very limited sense of understanding, trying to convince him to turn his back on Balloon again

And really, it doesn’t work. Nickel comments that baseball always wanted him to get along with balloon, and how he should have listened. And they never actually convince him that trusting balloon is a bad idea.

However two Other plot lines are happening at the same time: Nickel’s Luck, and Balloon’s fear of betrayal

Nickel’s Luck is something he’s been struggling with for many episodes. The gift from Clover has been really negatively effecting him. He makes it clear that he hates this luck. That it makes him feel like he’s not really Doing anything. And when Silver and Candle are trying to convince him to betray Balloon, he responds by saying “none of it is real anyway”

When questioned about this, he says the relationships he’s forming in the game aren’t real, because they’re a result of his luck.

He complains that everything he wants happens. Even the fact that Silver and Candle are choosing to side with him instead of Balloon or Bot

On its own this would have been nothing but a sign of frustration. But that leads us to the other plot point: Balloon’s fear of betrayal

See earlier in the episode Balloon expresses that he’s terrified of Nickel and Bot taking Silver Spoon and Candle’s side.

Nickel assured him at the time that he has nothing to worry about, and that they’ll always stick together. And Balloon believes him at the time.

But he’s still very much present during Silver and Candle’s conversation with Nickel. He hears everything. He hears them call Balloon the reason that Nickel and Baseball split up. And he hears Nickel say that the relationships in the game don’t really mean anything.

Regardless of if Nickel really meant it in regards to Balloon (which I doubt, considering he got close with Balloon Before he gained his luck) or if he was just frustrated, hearing this dug into Balloon’s insecurities and fears. And from Balloon’s perspective, they confirmed what he had been worrying about.

I do hope this clears everything up! This episode was very fast paced and much was left for the viewer to imply, so I hope breaking it down made things easier to understand :)

[waters-and-the-wilde]

HEY @kyliebyelie I had a weird couplea weeks but I did say I would yell about Nureyev and Vespa some more so *launches enrichment pumpkins*

also OG post thread for anyone who wants context it was just getting a little unwieldy

First off! re: Nureyev still being willing to bet on the hope that Juno would still vouch for him – I’ve also been thinking about how he had to be willing to bet that it wouldn’t backfire on Juno. Like, ‘you have no idea how much I did to keep the Kanagawas off you’. The fact that tying Juno’s name to his own work could have very easily painted a target on him. Even if he couldn’t have known that Buddy and Jet were going to pull a ‘come with me if you want to live’, the fact that he put Juno on their radar suggests that he trusted Buddy to begin with. To not threaten Juno, or to use Juno to threaten Nureyev. Jet talks about how the criminal reputation informs a potential employer that their prospective is reliable, but it also must work in reverse – that a potential boss won’t screw you over.

re: Nureyev being a fan is something I think about A Normal Amount

You’ve absolutely nailed the whole vibe of their communication styles, the chain reaction of politeness/rudeness → perception of emotions and control → measurement of honesty → how that exacerbates the friction, like that is such a good breakdown goddamn.

to add to that since I am constantly frothing like the cappuccino about the concept of 'solid coping mechanisms that backfire in the wrong situations' so for your consideration: one of those pesky little first rules of thieving being 'don’t rise to the bait’. Oh it was intended for Being In Situations with weird rich people or standoffs with other criminals, but when it's his default setting for responding to things, it's just gonna just drive the wedge that much further every time Vespa questions his integrity and he doesn't show where he keeps his Give A Damn. (And it's probably even harder to untangle as a 'no that's for jobs not your personal life' thing when it still has its legitimate applications in his personal life, bc Juno’s own survival reflex MO is ‘how fast can I piss somebody off to find out what I need to know’ and that ability to stay focused and letting him know when that's uncalled for is probably extremely necessary for the both of them)

‘Vespa is terrifying’ – okay so funnily enough! i'd been telling @one-joe-spoopy (pssst hey come look I've got enrichment pumpkins!) about my headcanon of 'ranked order of members of the Carte Blanche crew by how much they scare him and why number one hands down goes to Rita,' which is a whole post in itself but long story short, I think out of everybody he gets the most sense of security around Vespa (though she probably still does terrify him, like, a normal amount and for the exact reasons you described, especially pre/during Man In Glass.)

Basically the concept I’ve been toying with (and I think moreso in a later, probably post-Cyberbots context given some time to settle in) is that her opinion of him is decided and earning her approval under the circumstances is What We Call A Non-Starter. When he's reflexively trying to manage everyone's expectations and invested in their approval, and realizes in no uncertain terms that he can't win Vespa over as long as the name thing is a going concern, the pressure’s off a bit there. Though not in the healthiest of ways, necessarily, if he’s just more comfortable with letting her believe what she wants about him because that’s how he usually deals with people.

And another aspect of this sense of security dovetails with your previous points about how Vespa and Juno are more reactive than performative, how they wear their principles on their sleeves and others recognize them as genuine. I bet Nureyev absolutely knows better than to make the comparison in her earshot, but I can see him just sorta unable to help liking her for the same reasons he’s drawn to Juno – he can brush off a little belligerence from someone whose integrity speaks for itself. Vespa abides by her own codes as well as visibly aligning herself with Buddy’s – she’s pissed about not knowing his name but won’t coerce it out of him even when the requisite leverage is right there – and like you said, she would be insulted by the idea of using underhanded means to get him fired. He knows where he stands and possibly figures that trying too hard to fix it is just going to piss her off further. And it's not like he's gonna stop being dramatic and making his gay little jokes and smooching Juno in the mess hall, he just needs to focus on comporting himself as a reliable crewmember and establishing himself the hard way with time and Buddy's family bonding activities (and yeag he wants to Get A Good Grade In Crewmate which is Normal To Want and Possible To Achieve).

oooh also I’m a little fucked up on the idea of him on bedrest with his broken leg and getting filled in on what he missed during Shadows, realizing that Vespa thinks he’s got it in for her right around the same time he’s having an epiphany that he trusts her to keep him alive and patched up even if she never likes him as a person and that the shapeshifting robot impostors don't stand a chance with her around. like not only is she not the thief she was twenty years ago, she's even tougher and smarter and cooler and doing it all with the brain horrors on top.

ALSO in light of Next Page I now think about ‘hey what if he’s Inherently Suspicious of Medical Personnel due to The Trauma and did he spend a bunch of his broken leg recovery time fretting that she was going to try to wring his name out of him while he was on painkillers only she never does??’ (god there’s this one fic where he and Juno get MacGuffined into kids and she’s like. ‘well shit. yeah I could find it out but goddamn. that’s a line I just can’t cross. Not Looking At It I Do Not See It’)

gah it's just. Nureyev's trust issues are so goddamn multifaceted, like. local baby boy too trusting, gets his only security ripped out from under him, tanks his shot at happiness bc the trauma gave him suspicion, becomes the suavest charlatan in the galaxy so he doesn't get taken advantage of again, craves genuine connection but hasn't actually had a chance in the last two decades to figure out what he's like around other people for any stretch of time, also still literally paying the price for the last time and can hardly bear the thought of confiding in his new connections because there's nowhere truly safe in the galaxy he's terrified of putting a target on them.

But I think about his little 'much more so than usual these days' to Juno's sarcastic 'happy now??' and that maybe he was a lot closer to an honest version of himself on the Carte Blanche. That he was getting places, that he was trusting them with as much as he could. something something 'Peter Ransom' wasn't intended for putting at least half the truth under their noses the whole time but he kinda let it turn into that the moment he let Buddy start calling him Pete.

Handful of miscellaneous thoughts on things they have in common:

- the debts thing. Vespa of all people is the most painfully, intimately aware of what it feels like to have a life that isn't one's own, so the way she approaches Nureyev being in massive scary debt with suspicion made me go huh. so I've been thinking about that one and tbh given how she internalizes shit and doesn't entirely trust herself (and god I have to imagine that she's really messed up about how close she came to killing Buddy in Time Gone By), I think seeing her situation in Nureyev's wouldn't engender sympathy because is that because she also knows exactly what she was prepared to do to get out from under it. and is just expected to tolerate the fact that they're taking their goddamn chances on him. there's this sense of 'even if he cares. even if he thinks this is real. even if he tells himself he wants to be a part of this. who's he gonna be when push comes to shove. probably not even Steel is safe.'

- They are both extremely functional under pressure and in more in their element in full on crisis mode, and are probably spending S3 figuring out what the hell to do now that they have access to things like reliable meals. privacy. affection. (pretty sure Juno is also experiencing a similar kind of 'things... getting better? after being. really bad all the time???' and having a lot of midmorning scuffles about it)

- Also they both have their shitty dads living in their brains rent-free!! and they are never ever going to talk about it but one (1) time Nureyev hears Vespa yell 'shut the hell up old man!' from another room and. sometimes thinks that very hard in her voice when Mag's advice is being unhelpful

re: feral kittens in towels - I want them to get into it that day after Heart of It All where Juno isn't getting out of bed and isn't there to get all protective, and for once she's in a half-decent place brainwise and he's riddled with eight kinds of guilt and half on the edge of a nervous breakdown and having all of his defenses shot is actually a good thing for him because she's not actually going to do anything with the upper hand except cuss him out a little bit. Like 'I was gonna cut your throat without hesitation yesterday and you're all fine and dandy about being in the wedding party? no shut up I'm not saying you can't. it's whatever. Bud thought it would be nice and I'm not against it. I am saying. the fuck is wrong with you.' hurt can sniff out hurt in-fucking-deed. I am dying inside like the fact that Nureyev himself would prevent any closure we might have gotten between him and the Lighthouse Crew after S4 is very him and also it hurts me and I need to pick it all apart with a seam ripper and see what spills out

likewise it’s hard to picture them ever reaching an actual rapport but I can’t even tell you how many times I pictured the prison break with all of them converging before Clean Break aired, where it’s like finally sunk in that he’s on their side and she goes ‘Ransom watch my goddamn back I need to kiss my wife’

also. does anybody want. some fic? I have some job interview/Man In Glass missing scenes where i am gnawing on this at all times

[dailydoubletake]

Uncertainty and Still Being Curious

PASSION

Why not shut down? There is so much out there that could go wrong as the universe is really just a game of chance (physics speaking here). Quantum mechanics is weirder, even than me, so I don’t understand it well enough to dwell on this for too long. But I will say that, at the very tiny/basic level, the universe does operate probabilistically. So it only makes sense then that it would be the same in our shared reality, right? Truth is, it might as well be because we can’t know the future anyway. So either way, we’re still rolling the dice. Having said that, let’s dive even deeper into what shutting down actually means and what you can do to minimize it in yourself.

Every single person is capable of having a passion, or even multiple. Therefore, every person is capable of being curious and delighting in knowing more than they already do, whether it’s on one subject or many. This doesn’t have to be even remotely related to work or school. It could be bowling or underwater basket weaving or anything else. It doesn’t matter what it is. Every person is able to be passionate about something, no matter how big or small, smart or “stupid” their passion is.

I’m going to make a statement that may be disagreed with…. but maybe not. People are terrified to be curious. Not even to ask questions at work or in school, but just to wonder what could be if more information was known.

If my intuition is right, most people who read through the first sentence in this article don’t believe that they shut down and so maybe don’t know what happens when a person chooses not to. Sure, no one is able to maintain an open, positive mindset throughout all of life’s struggles. And even then, if you’re “mostly” open, you’re probably still a little hesitant to embrace change. All of that is completely normal.

People are interesting in how they work. This is known. A lot of what I’m referencing right now are what psychology calls “defense mechanisms.” So how does all of this relate to curiosity and being free to use one’s imagination and curiosity? You would be surprised.

Quick anecdote: I have a friend who was told almost their entire life that they were dumb. They came to believe it, and accepted it as fact until some life changing events happened. Watching him come out of that negative mindset blew me away. In those times talking to my friend, I realized he didn’t really want to listen to what I was saying to him. Not really. He had been told something (looking at you underfunded K-12 schooling system) that simply wasn’t fact, and the truth was swept under the rug. People like this are a large reason why I am writing this article.

Curiosity, though. To be fair we’ve all had different biases or judgments placed on us inaccurately throughout our lives. That’s just how people work. We judge because spending all that time to make a truly informed decision is far too difficult while balancing other mental priorities. Or in the case of my friend, teachers balancing other students all at the same time (underfunded, I know).

Imagine how much more productive a happy, fulfilled work force would be? What if students knew that, just because they don’t do well at filling in bubbles on paper (Hello Scantron), they aren’t dumb? How about inmates finally being able to work on a craft or a trade inside the prison so as to reduce recidivism?

All of these policies that we have through government and employers don’t do nearly enough to find the true talent that lies in each of us.

THE AFTERMATH

All of this is to say that each of us is capable of having a passion. This by its very nature means every person is capable of being curious and maintaining that mindset. This situation then becomes one of motivation and choice.

Find your passion. Even if you don’t get paid for doing it, directly, it will pay off in higher work performance anyway as you will be much happier. Call that a win-win.

Finally, just because you have your dream job, doesn’t let you off the hook of finding a passion outside of your work. You will be a healthier, more rounded person for following this piece of advice.

Choose to be curious. Choose to imagine a better life for yourself and those you care about. Then go make it happen.

Thanks for reading.

[thenightmareofyourdrems]

               ˜”*°•.     Strength .  Again  and  again  had  he  tried  to  show  strength ,  to  stand  on  his  feet ,  when  the  fear  and  the  anger  would  suffocate  him  whole .  He’d  known  he  had  to  resist  it .  To  ignore  the  nightmares  and  the  prophecies ,  to  ignore  the  voice  of  both  the  Dark  One  and  himself .  The  dark  side  wanted  him  to  believe  he  was  going  to  become  dangerous ,  this  a  fact  that  he  knew  well .  They  wanted  to  convince  him  that  he  would  kill  Draco  or  the  rest  of  his  friends .  And  for  months  if  not  years,  he  had  stopped  listening .  He  was  still  sane,  he  was  still  in  control,  he  was  still  totally  fine .  And  if  he  stopped  being  fine,  he’d  made  a  deal  with  Draco  -  a  deal  he  hoped  he  would  never  break .  If  he  was  so  perfectly  fine,  then  why  had  he  attacked  an  innocent  student  ?  A  student  that  who  knew  if  he  was  going  to  tell  a  professor  or  keep  the  incident  to  himself .  He  appreciated  it .  He’d  aways  appreciated  Draco’s  words ,  yet  he  knew  that  he  wouldn’t  deal  with  this  objectively .  That  he  would  want  to  convince  him  that  breaking  the  rules,  that  beating  someone  they  hadn’t  even  met ,  was  possible .  ❝ Temptation  or  not  I  am  using  it  either  way .  ❞   He  merely  said  -  gaze  almost  as  if  out  of  shame  impossible  to  rest  on  the  other.  ❝ I  don’t  know  what  I  would’ve  done  to  that  guy  if  you  hadn’t  come .  It’s  getting  serious . ❞    It  wasn’t  madness ,  he  knew  that  it  wasn’t .  It  was  him .  It  was  the  Dark  One  trying  to  get  him  to  lose  control ,  to  use  more  and  more  of  it , and  it  was  working .  Every  time  he  touched  the  source  making  the  greed  for  power  grow .

It  was  his  next  words  that  brought  a  smile  upon  lips .  He  was  right .  They’d  endured  tons  of   ordeals  together .  What’d  looked  like  the  most  destructive  of  wars ,  an  inevitable  end ,  faced ,  survived  from .  They’d  been  together .  Back  when  Draco  would  repair  the  cabinet  bound  to  condemn  them  all .  Back  when  they’d  spend  the  summer  in  the  manor ,  distracting  the  villains ,  buying  time .  They’d  been  through  so  many  tragedies ;  they  could  get  through  this  one  as  well .  And  if  the  Dark  One  wanted  Draco  dead  so  much ,  it  meant  that  his  role  in  this  story  was  important .  It  meant  that  keeping  Draco  around  him  could  in  fact  make  a  difference .  It  meant  that  staying  alone  was  simply  not  an  option .  They  could  win  this .  And  he  was  happy  that  he  could  win  this  with  Draco  by  his  side .  ❝ I  know .  ❞  He  nodded .  Together  was  always  better  than  alone,  after  all,  wasn’t  it  so ?

Channeling  on  purpose  and  succumbing  to  madness  or  channeling  accidentally  and  meeting  the  same  fate .  Options  that  he’d  rather  avoid   -  for  really ,  what  kind  of  options  were  those  ?  The  summer  at  his  father’s  house  had  reminded  him  of  all  the  things  that  he’d  once  craved ,  after  all .  Of  the  peace ,  the  simplicity,  the  calmness .  He  didn’t  want  to  lose  these .  He  didn’t  want  to  one  day  set  the  house  on  fire  or  murder  everyone  in  the  village .  So ,  a  third  option  lying  on  the  table ?  This  was  really  everything  he  needed .  ❝ A  third  option  like  what  ?  ❞  Question  came  curious ,  for  quite  honestly ,  the  only  third  option  he  could  see  was  cutting  himself   off  the  Power .  An  option  that  he  should  have  welcomed,  yet  an  option  that  he  didn’t  even  want  to  consider .  Funny  how  much  he  hated  the  One  Power,  how  much  he  wished  he  didn’t  have  it,  and  yet  how  much  the   idea  of  losing  the  ability  to  channel  seemed  to  terrify  him . 

At  the  other’s  question  he  shook  his  head .   ❝ You  dying  is  not  funny .  ❞   A  villain  of  unknown  power  seeking  to  kill  the  boy  before  him  was  serious .  He  was  not  invincible,  he  was  not  unstoppable  and  he  was  not  unimportant .  And  so ,  he  didn’t  answer  the  question ,  couldn’t  bring  himself  to  answer  the  question .  The  mere  memory  of  the  nightmares  and  how  real  they  felt ,  enough  to  make  it  impossible  to  talk  about  them.  Draco  was  going  to  die,  and  he  was  the  one  meant  to  kill  him  with  his  bare  hands, with  the  One  Power  dripping  from  the  tip  of  his  fingers .  ❝ You  are  important .  As  worth  living  as  the  rest  of  us .  And  we  will  graduate  together  .  ❞  And  this  was  something  that  he  could  never  forget .  He  didn’t  exist  to  be  sacrificed .  He  didn’t  exist  to  give  his  life  to  save  them  all .  He  existed  because  he  was  a  person  that  deserved  to  graduate,  live  happily ,  make  his  dreams  come  true .  ❝  We  don’t  know  how  powerful  he  is  yet .  So …  don’t  do  anything  drastic .  ❞        

At the second he heard despair inside Rand’s voice, brutally imposed inside affectionate embrace disappearing naturally. There was no use anymore to warm, even inside a slight touch as it; he might probably hurt him with all delicacy inside an particular manner of gentle suffocating … for feeling the need to put him back under his sanity. It had been an decision he had taken decades before --- once when the main concerned asked him to kill him if one day, he would have to lose it, if one day, he would came dangerous … where it had been his particular compromise for giving him all the suffering he wants without the death … though even now, he never wanted circumstances where he would have to express it. Besides, circumstances changed a little. Blame wasn’t on Rand. As clear, as obvious it sounded now --- no, no, no, no, the blame needed to fall over specific big villain who thought himself spared of every kind of punishment. It not that simple. That sentence hadn’t be the one he told him back when he had becoming the Dark Lord’s piece against his will? It lasted one instant, nevertheless; meanwhile features returned inside apparent calmness, silent understanding resonated inside reflections of circumstances that already happened. Prior this year, he had been searching an higher level seat around witches, inside an special realm of magic, where he had to understand circumstances and their subtleties, where he had to face meaning of his eternal reflections, where he had to embrace the Illusions as a whole … now he have it, all these previous efforts sounded dramatically ridiculous compared to fast understanding. After all, hadn’t he thought playfully, meanwhile the guts of a Dark Lord was on the way to be dissected, he won’t mind adding another volunteer on the party? By the moment Rand admitted that supposed terrible confession about how he wanted to use the One Power, his expression answered wordlessly inside complete understanding, unsurprised. Did he know how long he had wanted to use that Purgatory’s magic? Did he know how long he had been holding back his personal impulses to commit deems in middle of Hogwarts? Did he know how long he had been pushing behind these sudden temptations of destructions? Potter was an distraction, an punching ball, an remembrance of an past life --- and it had helping him not to succumb, not to expressing all his desires as he wanted to expose them … In middle of villains den, did he thought he had been a nice Dragon not tempted of more? In front of the villains, did he know how much he had been tempted to murder them all? ❝ I know. ❞ Inhumanity within his voice was gone, giving only sensation his common voice had returned, not forced to an simple whisper as raise his voice was warning of an forbidden land, nevertheless, determination within it had increased, along how sharpest it was. It seemed logical after all: afterwards his shitty situation almost solved (he still needed to destroy the Ministry with all the truths they don’t want to face after all!), it was Rand situation who needed some kind of conclusion or following up … Himself impressed how his spontaneous move inside previous year had been anticipation of his part.

However, he was a polite guy. Tell Rand right away his desire to use the One Power was understandable, that he cannot be blamed for it, but the Dark One wanted him as his toy wasn’t going to be easy to listen, isn’t it? There was likely next time he will see his tutor, he will really physically hit him for the kind of surprise he offer him --- he couldn’t fucking call it an damn coincidence to receive tools for circumstances meanwhile think of an riddle where the main concerned hadn’t have an answer just before all this happened … not when the guy was an fucking witch! ❝ It’s the point of a temptation; you can’t be blamed for that. ❞ Ah, he was an expert on them. He survived an entire year imagining the death of the Death Eaters. He survived an entire year imagining the broken head of a Dark Lord. If it would have been possible, he would have trying the destruction of an soul over that king --- for test, considering he experienced the pain coming from an curse of an demon, he always wondered how painful an how long it can be if was made by another method … At the thoughts, mere fact he was dealing with an tutor before his nineteenth year old was saying something (yet again, he somewhere understanding something he really didn’t wanted to understand, and in which he will not think too much about it … because eighteenth years old resonated apparently in various manners and not only an age where world domination could be considered as something realized! ), for taming all the eventualities he might leave out without restraint by someone --- ❝ I understand perfectly. ❞ Honest voice resonated. It had been his metaphor who leaves out another amused smile over words choice. He never forget how he had to physically holding his breath because he couldn’t fucking breath … Now, he could reconsidering the entire almost tragedy who almost happened that day. The Dark One had try to kill him though Rand --- as impression of a former demon hadn’t been wrong … only he badly reacted by not searching survival at all costs. Because he honestly thought it was supposed to be his hour, he had been ready to accept it --- and the only, sole margin the Dark One could have used for silence him … will now be his eternal bad move on him. He had been all the same ready to die when he thought his day will came with the Dark Lord, nevertheless, he had wanted to live, not reliving it --- hence, he had making sure the big villains will suffer badly for had even thought about kill him. Too bad another villain was apparently unable to perceiving the level of threat he was currently facing, isn’t it? By the moment he had wanted to kill him again --- he pushed himself to the tomb … ❝ Or you get oxygen in stock or protection around you for breathe safely regardless. ❞ He noticed slowly. He wasn’t going to bouncing back towards the remembrance, towards that trauma … who started everything, who changed everything … Pretty much ironic coming from the Dark One, to turn the one problematic person he want out of way, inside an wonderful villains killer. Oh, of course, he contributed! Of course, meanwhile playing the Dragon, he had understood! Larger amused smile increased inside the reminder. ❝ Come on, we are at this again? You did it before, and it had been my first reason to remain at your side as much I can. How much I’ve already accepted the risks since day one, in same manners you accepted the risks with me. ❞

He couldn’t say it, but for an couple of seconds, he feel sympathy for the poor villain who had no idea about how he was going to be dissected all across time and space for had picked the wrong person … truly, it would be single moment he would feel so sorry of such naivety! He was associated with monsters who will have no pity, no mercy, no heart to tore that Dark One alive, whatever inside the kind of universe he could escape from, whatever the timeline --- and oh, as the Witch of Illusions, he could making sure it was an retroactive move! How much his tutor could actually interfere was a surprise, but he guessed, considering the boy, he could expect to feeling pleased by the way he will be supported. If the Dark One hurt him --- he will receive an echo on that pain in an higher level … ❝ Distance I imposed between each other didn’t give us any good. I passed an entire year med this to you as apologies. Don’t have these regrets. Distance that you will impose on yourself will just making him more vulnerable and corruptible. ❞ He reassured. ❝ You told it yourself, didn’t you? Confessing how my presence calm you down. ❞ He remembered slowly with a small smile. He was needed. Besides, it wasn’t like he was going to leave just because he wanted to do a wrong move and regret it later --- he wasn’t going to let him do that, and he will really insist for make sure he will not going in that path! ❝ Our friendship isn’t only based on our mutual problems; these had been additional turn our bond unique. Friendship means we stay together no matter what. These issues can make it stronger, and I do think last year proved easily my point. ❞ Gentleness voices carry on.

Short moment of silence born concerning the dilemma Rand was facing. Well, he had an homework in which the riddle to solve wasn’t pretty certain to be solved, and there was so many associated elements to that enigma he needed to think over entire larger scheme of the equation before trying an solution’s draft … Compared to that, holding him back because he wanted use it or be sure he wasn’t messed up because he was … sounded simple. ❝ A third option must exist. ❞ He simply started. ❝ Oh, I have a slight idea on this, but well --- ❞ He grinned. ❝ In same manner it will came naturally with the solution. ❞ He mused simply another time. Redefine the One Power. Redefine the One Power by removing corruption men would receive if they touched it --- meanwhile he would have to rewrite such rules … meaning he would have to channelling for real … which would be possible now, as a witch. It would also mean destroy the Dark One authority within it. Question was: did he have the authority to do that? Did he had the authorization to actually interfering in that level? How much he would be permitted to altering it? In which manner balance would be restored within it? He would need to dig over these legends stories one more time for offering a forgotten time, that for sure, but, in same time, in which way circumstances would be altered? ❝ I should be exactly inside this position, able to handle both possibilities and expand your horizons. ❞ He did his personal ascension even since the first day they met … he simply never truly talked about it. Never expressed how much he had struggled for get to his actual position. In consequence, he was further compassionate with Rand for empathizing with all his soul. He give to Potter the keys for remove an villain of his chessboard, maybe he was meant to offer Rand same keys!

At the sudden confession concerning his own death in his dreams, he wished he would have reacted. However, he was standing here, as the admission just awakening a mocking feeling ❝ How you see me die? ❞ Ah, if the Dark One did another wonderful bad move and had dared using his metaphoric twin death in some manner, he will really tore him apart little by little �� Oh, he will have to ask his tutor to witness these nightmares also, to be part of it. How his expression looked exposed irony towards circumstances. He told him before. He told him three years ago honestly, just as he was found oxygen again, the truth, the terrible, horrible and sad truth. Murdered, chocked to death --- it was how he was supposed to die. He was only meant to be murdered --- in same manner his metaphoric twin had been murdered by a demon. However --- margin was now gone as far he was concerned, and if his day was supposed to come, he would rather hurt so much that villain than let himself die! Hades promised to keep him safe. He was going to hold his promise to his last natural breath. He would pressuring the God of Underground himself of an anticipation of betrayal and lie than let himself die. ❝ I appreciate the sentiment, however, as pleasant as it has is, you’re conscious on my supposed ending. Oh, could be knowledge he using for torture you with, lacking other pressures points. Then what? I’m living with that knowledge since my fourteen years old. Don’t you think I would have strength to endure everything I did if he wasn’t strong enough to face it? ❞  It was his gentleness manner to confess his horror of circumstances, of his awareness since all these years, and how, regardless, he did all these decisions. ❝ You can actually save me. ❞ He exposed frontally. ❝ You’re already done it. ❞ He completed without further details, while a mocking sound releasead his lips at his last sentence. ❝ Someone else will, then. ❞ Another mocking sound escaped his lips. ❝ Oh, I’m his terrible thorn~ ❞ Determination shined inside his eyes, as he physically emitting inside his gaze it would be unfortunate for the villain. ❝ It’s one more reason for stand together. Have you learn nothing of my partnership with Potter? ❞

[after-witch]

Divulgence [Yandere L Lawliet x Reader]

Title: Divulgence [Yandere L Lawliet x Reader]

Synopsis: You don’t know how much longer you can keep your worries to yourself, and you finally do spill your guts to the only person who can listen: the man who kidnapped you. 

Word count: 653

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader

Your arms wrap around your legs, pulling them tighter to you, and you will yourself to disappear into the sofa. As if molding into the cushions might shrink the thoughts that have ballooned inside your head for days now, growing larger and larger until they’re pressing so tight against your skull that you want to scream. 

There’s nothing but awful silence, thick, and then--

“You’ve been awfully quiet. Is something bothering you?” L says it so lightly and casually from his position on the other couch, and doesn’t he know that makes it hurt more? 

“What do you care?”

The words come out fast, irrational. You didn’t mean to say them. Not when you’re so, so afraid that he’ll just confirm your worries if you spill your anxiety-ridden guts. 

“Go on,” he says, calm, mild, as if you didn’t just snap at him. 

The hint of interest you see in his eyes hurts, bringing a stinging sensation to your chest.

It’s the first time he’s looked at you with interest that didn’t feel so surface level. Sure, he stares at you. All the time, in fact. He stares because he thinks you’re pretty.

But looked at you for any other reason? No. You don’t seem to get much of that. Or anything else from him, but the feeling that you’re something ornamental to be stared at until you’re worn out and useless. And what happens when things come useless? 

“What do you want me to say?” you answer, finally, voice shaking. “That I’m feeling sick to my stomach all the time because you only look at me like I’m, a--a trophy or a toy you keep on your shelf? That I’m terrified about what’s going to happen to me when I start getting older, or--” 

You swallow tight. “Or if I get sick and I’m not so nice to look at anymore?” Your arms clench tighter around your knees. “You don’t even seem like you like me, much less…” You can’t bring yourself to say love, considering that he is your stalker-turned-captor and you still don’t know how to process that.

And finally, all your stress balled in your stomach unfurls, slow and slimy, coming out in the tired, shaking question you pose towards your captor. 

“What will happen when you get tired of me?” 

There’s a long silence.

“Well, I admit this is unexpected. I thought you were simply depressed due to the change in your living situation.”

All you can do is stare at him as he continues, ticking off the points as he makes them.

"I wouldn't call you a trophy, because that would mean I had to win you. I took you, and now I have you, and that is that. When you get older, you will be older, and I will be older. That is how time works. If you are sick, I will take care of you. We may need to bring in a team if it’s something serious, but I don’t anticipate that being a problem.” 

"If you aren't aware of my feelings towards you, I apologize." You feel the slap of surprise so suddenly that you feel as if you’ve really been struck. 

"I am aware that physical affection is necessary in relationships.” He shifts on the couch, regarding you with something much deeper than mild interest. “But my estimations led me to believe that increased affection would only drive you further away until you were more acclimated to your situation. I suppose I was incorrect on that count, yes?”

Your cheeks burn. Did you want your kidnapper to show you he loved you? You can’t decide on a response, so you simply let your expression rest, warm and bewildered. 

“I’m more than happy to adjust my behavior earlier than anticipated.” He smiles at you, and there’s something cheeky in it that makes your chest sting in an entirely different way. “Shall we start now?”

[dropped-the-soap]

i know i keep talking about this all the damn time, but the fact mafia II really went for picturing a friendship to such extent without putting a romantic relationship that would get in the way there, is so, so important to me

i’ve been looking (and looking. and looking) for years for what i experienced with vito & joe 

the love, the gentleness, the playful banter, the past, the future, the “me and Joe”, the married couple dynamics, the caring gestures and sacrifices, the favors that went without saying, the little fights in between that never needed to be addressed later, the love, the little remarks, “show don’t tell” that joe is always there, is supposed to be always there, the love, both of them following each other without question, never blaming each other, never arguing to win against the other, always the two of them against the world, against the problem, always teaming up to get to a solution, no matter whose problem it was, no guilt, no regrets, the love

like, there is literally not a single moment where you think that they would hurt each other - even counting the terrifying moment where joe actually aims a gun at vito’s head. did i think he would try to kill vito? hell no. (did i easily believe sam was a scared little shit that would do all this when i saw it happen in the first game? hell yes.)

even if the creators tried, they couldn’t have possibly pulled this one off in this game. vito & joe trying to actively hurt each other. for anything, for anyone. 

all the friendship portrayals - the ones that got some room (watching you, Henry), that is - were believable. i bought them all. i could tell sam wasn’t really as close to tommy or paulie as those two were to each other. (and i could go on for hours why it was like that or why not, but that’s not the point.) i could tell lincoln and john were close even though i know absolutely nothing about the maniac who shot a senator on tv. 

it’s the moments of gentleness. fondness. protectiveness. a single “are you alright?” and “it’s not your fault” and “this one stays with me” and “talk to me”.

lincoln wasn’t given a chance, had no idea what hit him. he wasn’t in the mob life, he actively worked to destroy it. there was a different plot altogether, he and john worked together from the very beginning, he had already lost everything, there was nothing that would put him in the situation where he would have to choose

tommy had to choose, in the end. wouldn’t have, if it weren’t for paulie. for sam, too.

vito didn’t get to choose. we all know what he would have chosen if he got to choose. i wouldn’t be able to doubt him for a second. (there wasn’t any other way to separate them but to make vito utterly helpless)

[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 4)

Summary: Reader has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, which her Professor is hellbent on making a little bit better. A/N: If y’all thought you hated Kyle (bathroom bitch boy), just wait until you meet the new antagonist (of the female variety) here... I hope you all enjoy! 😚 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Sexual themes/fantasies Word Count: 6.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

——————————————————

Einstein once attributed his genius to his childlike sense of humor. Studies performed since then have largely proven his point — funny people tend to have higher IQs, which makes sense when you consider the cognitive and emotional intelligence required to produce humor.

Spencer Reid was no exception. The only problem was that his humor was so remarkably niche and impossibly specific that barely anyone could understand the punchline. He insisted to me that he’d gotten better over the years, which I only barely believed… until he told me a joke that hadn’t left my mind since. A joke that he described as ‘just crude enough to make it palatable to the layman.’

"Caffeine and Viagra are both phosphodiesterase inhibitors,” he’d said — a slow start if there had ever been such a thing. But I held on to hope, hanging on the ecstatic, guileless smile he wore. And boy, was I glad I did, because what he’d said next broke me into a frankly embarrassing fit of giggles that returned with the memory every time.

“Which explains why both of these drugs keep you up all night."

The poor barista stuck working the busy early morning shift eyed me like I’d grown two heads when I once again devolved into laughter for no apparent reason. I almost felt embarrassed about it, but then I reassured myself that if she’d heard Dr. Spencer Reid tell a drug-induced-boner joke, she would also laugh about it forever.

I’d been thinking about him a lot lately. Not in a perverse way, either, despite his increasing comfort in breaching such topics in my presence. It was more like I’d started to infuse him into my every day, finding him in whatever way my brain would allow. While I made my way to his office, I breathed in the soothing scent drifting from the cups that were precariously perched in flimsy cardboard.

The smell took me back to quiet moments in his office. The kind of simple serenity that accompanied silence between two people who need not speak to share ideas. Where the second you looked away, you felt their eyes follow you, like the universe couldn’t maintain its structural integrity without one of you looking at the other.

It was intoxicating and alluring; so easy to lose myself in. Something I knew was dangerous for a number of reasons.

For example, when I am not paying the utmost attention to my surroundings, I have a tendency to lose track of where I am and what I’m doing. I also tend to… drop things. Especially hot and otherwise dangerous things.

Things like the two cups of coffee that finally became too much for shallow, defective cardboard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screeched as I became acutely aware of every place where scorching hot, drenched clothing hung on angry skin. Normally, I would at least try to sound more dignified while on my way to work, but it hardly seemed like it mattered anymore.

I was too busy hurriedly tearing at my shirt and dropping everything else I was holding. I’d gotten three whole buttons on my shirt popped by the time I remembered it wasn’t technically necessary. I dropped my bag immediately at the thought, tugging on the hem of the shirt and trying to bring it over my head.

Unfortunately, I still hadn’t regained my grace, and in the muddled mess of fabric, I’d also grabbed hold of my undershirt. Which meant that whoever was walking through the empty halls of the early morning in academia would find me, with my stomach exposed and clothing dripping while unintelligible curses flowed freely from my lips.

I expected most people would probably just turn around and leave. I probably would’ve. The giant splatter of coffee and the absolute idiot slipping in it were beyond saving.

But there was at least one person who saw the mess and stayed.

I smelled his cologne before I felt his hand was pressed over the bare skin of my lower back. Despite the fact my skin was burning, it welcomed the warmth of his touch. My body stopped at his command, waiting for him to break me free of the paradoxically frozen state I was in.

He pulled the shirt back down, just enough that I could see him when he wrapped his cardigan around my shoulders and started guiding me into his office, which I’d somehow managed to almost walk straight past in my daze. I wished that I could go back there, to the imaginary world where he hadn’t just seen me half disrobed and cursing while covered in the coffee that I’d meant to give to him.

Spencer’s hands left me once the door was shut, probably trusting, or at least hoping, that I could figure out the mess on my own. Oddly enough, I didn’t notice any signs of him staring at me. Like he only felt comfortable looking when I was clothed.

I tried not to think about it. Once I did manage to free myself of one of the shirts — without further flashing my boss — the anxiety brewing inside of me burst out in the form of frantic shouting.

“Hi Professor! I’m so sorry, I spilled the coffee!”

“Yeah, I... saw the puddle,” he mumbled, throwing a cursory glance back at the hallway before his eyes met mine with a terrifying level of compassion, “Are you alright?”

“Besides the boiling liquid on my skin and the horrid embarrassment? I guess,” I mumbled back before shouting, “Shit! This is why that woman sued McDonald’s! Why do stores serve coffee like that?!”

Spencer didn’t really say anything. In fact, he kind of just stood as frozen as I had been, staring at everything around me rather than meeting my eyes again. But while he seemed somewhat cool and composed, I continued to tug at my clothes to try and avoid the friction. It was then that he cleared his throat, covering his face just like he’d done when he saw me in an arguably more provocative position the week before.

Arguably, I said. I should have known that Spencer would win any argument. I should have considered why he was making such a point of not looking at me while I clawed at the white undershirt turned beige. But I didn’t. Not until I looked down to inspect the state of my skin.

I realized then that Spencer had been trying to figure out a way to inform me that not only had the coffee turned my shirt a different shade — it had also eliminated the opacity.

He could see my bra. Spencer Reid, my boss, was trying not to stare at my very clearly visible bra.

“God, this is the worst Monday of all Mondays!” I whined between half-sobs, “and Mondays are already bad, Professor!”

There must have been something else in that cry, too. Something akin to permission. Enough for him to step closer, managing to avoid looking at my chest in the process. I’d entirely forgotten that he’d wrapped me in his cardigan until he pulled it tighter around my shoulders like his own version of an embrace.

“That they are, Bunny.”

If my skin had been heated before, it turned to flames at the use of the nickname. It was honestly a pure work of magic that the liquid on me didn’t turn vaporize the second I’d heard the word.

Bunny?

I pushed the thought away as quick as humanly possible, focusing instead on the way my clothes were going from uncomfortably hot to frigid as a result of the usually refreshing air conditioning. But when I was once again reminded of the obvious undergarment, I sighed.

“I can probably ask a friend to bring me a replacement shirt, or just go to class like this,” I thought aloud, “No one really looks at me, anyway...”

Spencer’s response came immediately, his hands flying up in protest as he shouted, “No!”

I wasn���t quite sure how to reply to that, or even which part of the statement he was objecting to, so he was met with a wide-eyed, slow blinking stare.

“I-I mean, I have a shirt you can borrow. I don’t want to subject you to any further embarrassment,” he explained at a significantly more appropriate volume, “You can just wear my extra shirt.”

He turned away from me before I could respond, shuffling through something hidden beneath his desk that created more questions than answers for me.

“Why do you have an extra shirt?”

“Go bag,” he said in the most nondescript manner. It wasn’t necessarily abnormal, either. The question I’d asked didn’t spark any concerns in his mind, but it also wasn’t the question that I felt needed to be asked.

What I really wanted to say was caught in my throat. My hands clamped together in front of me tighter than my jaw that resisted opening to make way for the thoughts that felt more scandalous than they should’ve been.  

“U-Um, Professor don’t you think—“

“Here you go,” he offered with a smile. I took the large, plain black shirt with a hefty dose of caution, my hands shaking along with my broken voice that still couldn’t finish the sentence from before.

Spencer finally noticed the struggle on my face, and I watched his body move from comfortable to defensive in a matter of seconds. Like he was worried he’d done something wrong in trying to be kind.

He hadn’t, but I felt like I had.

“Won’t people... you know?” I mumbled, motioning a hand between the two of us, “I’m showing up to your class at 8AM wearing your clothes…”

I thought that the words alone would be enough. I thought that the gesture was overkill. But Spencer was still staring at me with his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed in thought.

I was going to have to say it.

Won’t they think we’re having sex?

There was no way I was going to be able to say it.

“Aren’t you concerned about people getting… the wrong idea?” I blurted out, instead.

The confusion on his face shifted to a clever little self-assured smirk so fast that I almost missed the transition. My stomach flipped from the sight, but then he spoke again, and what had felt like it was filled with butterflies turned to rocks.

“I’d much rather them gossip about something that’s not happening than watch the young boys ogle you instead of paying attention.”

It wasn’t the words, but the way that he’d said them. Like they were silly, like the idea of us being together was so preposterous it could only be entertained by people he perceived to be children.

I was foolish, too.

“Don’t worry about them,” he said with a wave, “Just worry about making this Monday a little bit better.”

“O-okay. Thanks,” I whispered, turning and running from the room only to be reminded of the mess I’d made. But the pool of tawny liquid on the floor wasn’t the most disastrous thing anymore. That honor was reserved for the state of my heart, begrudgingly continuing to beat despite being broken.

Scooping up my bag that I’d abandoned before, I tried to allow myself to be happy about the little things. For instance, the fact that the shirt Spencer had handed me was probably the softest thing I’d ever felt in my life. It made sense, considering the sensory issues he always described.

Still, I waited until I was in the safety of a bathroom stall before I buried my face in the fabric. It smelled just like him, a mixture of freshly done laundry and vanilla. Much better than the cheap, burnt coffee that covered me. Funny enough, that sort of smelled like him, too.

By the time I slipped into his clothes, I had almost forgotten his joke entirely. I was too lost in the joy of sweater paws from his cardigan and fabric that felt like a hug. Or at least, what I’d imagined a hug from him would be like.

The energy it provided me was a better pick-me-up than any cup of coffee had ever been. I kept my squealing as quietly as I could, bouncing in place just like the nickname he’d chosen to let stick. But before I returned to him, I felt something. A small, noticeable weight in one of the cardigan pockets.

If I’d thought about it for longer than five seconds, if I’d reminded myself that they were his clothes and not mine, I would’ve let it be. I wouldn’t have pulled the little object from its safe hiding spot. It would have stayed locked away, leaving me none the wiser of its presence.

But I didn’t think about it, and then there I was, holding onto the sobriety token I should’ve seen coming.

Not that it was a bad thing; I already knew Spencer had a history with drugs. He’d mentioned it in passing in class and was deeply involved with a number of volunteer programs around the area. At one point, I’d even taken it upon myself to research his history.

That research, while I regretted it now, feeling that it violated his privacy some way or another, led me to a second conclusion. As my thumb ghosted over the embossed number five, I realized that Spencer had been sober since he was released from prison.

My heart swelled with pride and relief that felt shameful. I didn’t want the token to have such a profound effect on the image of him I’d already crafted in my mind. Lord knew I didn’t need any more reasons to idolize him. And, at the end of the day, I’d only discovered this information by happenstance.

Part of respect, I decided, meant ignoring the way that fate seemed to push us together. If Spencer ever wanted my opinion on his sobriety or strength, surely, he would just ask. So, I slipped the chip back into the pocket and made my way back to him without worry for what it meant.

While I had no worries, Spencer was another story. I’d barely even made it through the door when he saw me. All of the papers he’d been holding immediately fell from his hands the same way the coffee had fallen from mine.

“Oh no! My clumsiness was contagious!” I laughed, bolting over to help him only to find his face an unhealthy shade of red. He chuckled back but said nothing else as he scrambled to pick up the loose-leaf that had splayed itself all over the floor.

Once we were back on our feet and as collected as we could be considering the circumstances of the morning thus far, his eyes met mine again. His cheeks were still flushed, unable to focus on anything specific and choosing to traverse my body the same way his hands had on Halloween.

“Sorry,” he mumbled in a way that made me wonder if he knew I could hear him, “I was distracted by how unfair it is that you look better in my clothes than I do.”

It was my turn to be flustered, but Spencer didn’t let the moment drag on. He tore himself away from me in every sense of the word, marching past me and halfway exiting the room before he found the courage to look at me again.

“Are you ready to head to class?” he asked as if it were an option.

I suppose to him, it was. For a second I imagined what the future would hold for us if I’d said no. What would he have done if I begged him to stay with me, instead? What if we rebelled against expectation and remained locked away in his office until we grew tired of one another? What if we never did?

My mind filled with fantasies of Spencer’s hands freely feeling my skin the way his clothes could. I could hear soft, breathy sounds of desire shaped like my name. For all of my inexperience, he would still find me intoxicating. He would grow drunk on me the same way a child finds endless joy in sweets that really ought to make them sick.

Then again, maybe he had grown used to the sugar. Maybe he wanted something more mature, a bitterness like molasses that was only earned from years I hadn’t had yet.

Regardless, I couldn’t really get into any of that. Instead, I just flashed a very awkward thumbs up to the man fifteen years my elder when I droned, “Sure am, Professor man.”

As stupid as it felt to do something so juvenile, the smile he gave was worth it.

“Alright then, Bunny,” he answered with his own little peace sign, “Let’s hop along.”

——————————————————

It hadn’t even been a week since I saw her, scantily clad in the plush, socially acceptable equivalent of lingerie. It’d been even less time since I admitted my own weakness to her. I’d replayed the memories of her visceral responses to my touch enough times that I should be sick of it. But there was no tiring of her.

I considered deleting the photos she’d sent me, convinced that it was cruel to keep them when she’d only sent them while inebriated and undoubtedly exhausted beyond belief.

But when I woke up in the morning, my stomach still reeling from the knowledge of what I’d done, all that she’d sent was a curious collection of emotes and a very brief note.

“Oops!” she’d written, “Bad bunny?”

I put that phrase out of my mind immediately, unable to handle the way it incited the desire for destruction in my veins.

“I’m always glad to hear that you are safe.”

That was the end of the conversation, and I was grateful for that much. Even the few words we’d exchanged would haunt me until I saw her again. Of course, the torture ended there, but only for a few seconds before it was replaced with other images and words.

It’d been hours since I’d found her flailing about half-naked in the hall while uttering rushed curses that sounded too crude for her lips. It’d been hours since I felt the soft skin of her lower back and became lost in an entirely different set of fantasies.

It’d been even less time since I saw her standing at my door, pulling on the sleeves of my sweater and staring at me with nervous, shifty glances. Completely unaware of just how beautiful she was in her simplicity. How much more torturous it was to see her wearing my clothes than any lustful suffering that lingerie or nudity could elicit.

I thought that it would get better throughout the day, but it didn’t. It only got worse.

I’d stepped out of my office for barely half an hour, but I returned to find her curled up on the plush chair. Her shoes were slipped off, revealing colorful socks that clashed with every other neutral color she wore. It somehow made me want her even more.

I stayed stuck for a few seconds longer, watching her with bated breath and shameless admiration. She was so caught up in the papers on her lap that she didn’t even notice my presence until the door clicked shut. It was then that she turned to see me, allowing a smile to blossom across her face despite eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What’s all of this?” she asked, gesturing to the collection of bags hanging from my wrists.  

“Did you know…” I started before my heart stopped at how she always leaned forward with excitement whenever I started a sentence that way, “that food is one of the best ways to solve a terrible Monday?”

“Which scientific study did you get that from?”

I paused again, debating telling her the many studies that would support such a theory, but then decided against it. Instead, I sought out her laughter and childlike joy that always brought out the best of her.

“Garfield,” I answered.

Sure enough, the office filled with the melodious sound of her happiness. I moved as quietly as I could, thinking back to when I was younger and thought of how powerful bottled laughter would be if I could capture it. Hers would surely right so many wrongs.

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, but I figure it’s the least I could do.”

She approached me to assist before I’d even made it to my desk, and although I thought her hands were far too soft to be bothered with something like this, I allowed her to help.

“You could do nothing, you know. It was my own fault.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

She laughed again, shier and shrinking into the sweater as she tried to find her place in such a domestic activity as sharing a meal with me in private. I thought of how it was a taste of my dreams.

Because as often as I did fantasize about her, undone, bare-skinned, and defenseless to my desires, I just as often envisioned her just like this. In fact, I found those fantasies more dangerous. They couldn’t be written off as mere lust. They were another, scarier thing.

“Well, lucky you I am an exhausted, broke grad student, so free food will always win me over,” she muttered, half-sarcastically but just sad enough to bother me.  

“Duly noted,” I said.

I hid away the promises I wanted to make. That if she were mine, she would want for nothing. That I would give her everything she needed to bloom. That I would prune away any neighboring flower that dared get in her way or block the sunlight. There would be no need to worry of predators or pollinators intruding, because she would belong to me and only me.

I would be her earth, her rain, and her sun. I would be surely and shamelessly selfish.

Her shoulders rose with a cheeky, excited little giggle once she had collected her food. I wanted nothing more than to let her enjoy it to her heart’s content… but there was a problem.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” I chuckled before she had a chance to return to the chair with her precarious paper plate, “Get in the other chair.”

Her face scrunched up, bouncing back and forth between the two seats in the room like she’d heard something so strange that it must have been a mistake.

“Wh— your chair?”

“I will not have you ruining another shirt today,” I explained. It caused the confusion to quickly shift to an embarrassed frustration within seconds. Just as she opened her mouth to protest my teasing, I continued with something I knew would tie her tongue until she could no longer argue.

“If you’re so worried about what they’ll say when you show up in my shirt, just think of how they’ll talk if they catch you wearing nothing.”

That stubborn little thing still tried. Her mouth floundered, strange sounds of protest starting but never finishing until she gave up. She sulked over to the seat with an odd amount of self-satisfaction. She settled into my space as comfortably as she always did. With an ease that was almost unsettling to my tired, tortured heart.

Swapping places with her for that little bit of time was a good idea. I hadn’t expected that it would bring me as much serenity as it did. My usually busy lips kept their focus on the food, opting to listen to her ramble about any and everything that came to mind.

It wasn’t until she was fifteen minutes into an explanation on her paper that I realized how little I’d tried to learn about her life outside of me. Whether it was self-preservation or narcissism, I’d never decided. But what I was certain of was that it had been a brutal form of self-sabotage.

Because as I sat there, watching her clumsily, excitedly swinging her fork and proving my point that it had been a good decision to give her the desk, I saw her for in a different light than before.

She was not just a beautiful, mysterious flower peeking through the concrete. She was the trembling giant, the clonal colony of thousands of quaking aspen trees. An extravagant network of roots that flowed far beyond the seed that started them.

This sprout might be new, but her soul was ancient and celestial, wise and immortal.

“Who knows?” she sighed, coming to a natural conclusion of a story I had almost missed while lost in daydreams and metaphors, “Maybe one day I’ll be a professor, too.”

“You’d be good at it.”

For once, it felt like she accepted the compliment without a fight. I considered it progress all the way up until she shot back a thinly veiled taunt.

“Thanks. Means a lot from someone who has 4 stars on rate my professor!”

“Don’t forget the chili pepper,” I jokingly returned.

“Not sure I’d get one of those.”

I knew that my disagreement wouldn’t amount to much in the grand scheme of things, so I opted for a slightly-self-centered flattery instead.

“Just show up in that outfit,” I said with a nod that barely hid my actual intention of focusing my eyes on the rest of her, “you’ll be golden.”

“You gonna let me borrow it in ten years?” she hummed.

It was a dangerous proposition, an implication that made the pitter-pattering in my chest unbearable. Rather than chasing her down the rabbit hole of fantasies, I just chuckled before I answered, “You know how to find me.”

Then it happened again. Her face slowly changed, growing from a cautious optimism to a yearning. A subtle hint of words left unsaid. And although she wet her lips and set down her fork, the words never came out. They stayed stalled in her throat, and there was no discernible way for me to drag them out of her without hurting the both of us.

When a loud knock resounded through the room, the thought ended altogether.

“Come in,” I grimly announced, recognizing the intrusive sound as the death rattle for whatever might have been said.

As the door opened, I realized the same time (y/n) did that we had forgotten that the rest of the outside world wasn’t familiar with our dynamic. They didn’t have the backstory of how she’d perched herself on my chair with her shoes off and wearing my clothes.

Torn between scrambling to take more socially acceptable positions and the knowledge that our hurry would make us look even more suspicious, we both opted to remain frozen in place like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming train.

When the door opened, however, I was somewhat relieved to see someone I found completely unthreatening. My closest colleague, a woman that should really terrify me all things considered, seemed mostly perplexed when she found a young girl in my seat.

She quickly turned to me, drawing out her words as she asked, “Oh. I’m sorry, am I... interrupting something?”

“No, what can I help you with, Candy?”

“I was hoping we could talk about my current paper proposal.”

She paused, and I took the moment to follow her glower to the flower still stationary behind my desk. (Y/n) stared back, seemingly frightened by the presence of the other Professor.  

“If you’re busy with... office hours…” Candy muttered before turning back to me, “we can always set up a meeting for a better time.”

Before I could address the possible tension or implication, the girl at my desk sprung to action, clearing off any sign of her presence as she spoke.

“You know, I actually need to get going.”

“Are you sure?”

She didn’t look at me when she answered, “Yeah, I’m sure your papers are more important.”

If I’d turned back to Candy, I might have seen the condescending scowl that was driving her away. If I’ve had any inclination or desire to look at Candy, I would have realized that (y/n) wasn’t trying to escape from her connection to me. She was just trying to get out of my way.

It didn’t make it any harder to watch her leave. I took solace in the fact that she held tighter to my cardigan, trusting me to keep her warm by proxy as she ventured back into the real world. The world where we couldn’t be in peace.

“Thanks for the advice, Professor,” she said before she left, “You were right. As usual.”

One last smile was shared, somber but sobering. A necessary break from the intimacy of the moment.

“See you in class.”

The office felt so much duller without her radiance, but my disappointment would have to wait. As much as I actually didn’t mind the world knowing how my heart hurt from her absence, I knew that it was best I didn’t let it impact her academic career.

“Sorry again for the intrusion,” my colleague said in a much happier voice.  

“It’s not a problem at all.”

She must have noticed the way it sounded like a lie, because her tone quickly shifted back to a slightly disgruntled confusion.

“I didn’t realize she was your student, too. What class is she in?”

It was juvenile, really, the way my heart fluttered so ridiculously at the mere mention of her existence. The excuse to discuss her again.

“Oh, did she not tell you?”

Candy just shook her head with a blatantly false smile.

“Unsurprisingly modest,” I laughed, making my way back over to my seat and running my fingers over the wooden armrests like it would be the same as touching her ghost, “She’s my TA.”

“Oh… I see.”

“She was the only one who would put up with me,” I offered with a chuckle. Self-deprecating humor was the only reliable personality trait I had. It was also, unfortunately, one that most women in my life despised and refused to let sit.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

It sounded less sweet coming from her. I wrote it off as a product of the differences in their species. While the hummingbird of a girl who’d just flittered away was used to only drinking the sweetest, purest nectar, the bird of prey who’d entered relied on the work of others to gather the sweetness before they were devoured.

That wasn’t to say she was cruel; hawks are as much a miracle of nature as hummingbirds. I simply related to one more than the other. I understood one while the other remained a mystery. And I loved mysteries more than myself.

“So, you wanted to talk about your paper?”

“Oh! Yes,” she chirped, passing the packet over to me now that I’d found my way back to what she probably deemed my rightful place. “The conference is coming up so much faster than I anticipated, and I would love to hear your opinions on my first draft.”

I’d already started to read the first page when she spoke again, uncharacteristically bashful and anxious, “Since we’ll be presenting together, I figured...”

“Yeah, no problem at all,” I interrupted, not wanting her to dwell nor expand on the thought of us doing anything together any more than necessary, “I can send you mine.”

It felt curt, blunt, and off putting when I said it, but she didn’t take it as such.

“Wonderful. You have such a unique voice when you’re writing. It’s very refreshing.”

Immediately, a memory appeared at the forefront of my mind and led to a laugh that I couldn’t contain. Candy seemed pleased at the sound, and I felt the need to explain.

“Thanks. (Y/n) likened it to Ray Bradbury at one point, although in different and less flattering words.”

I could hear her clear as day, quoting my words with an overdramatized effect before laughing, ‘Pack it up, Bradbury, you’ve got more science stuff to explain.’

Of course, we both found her laughter-ridden explanation of the ‘meme’ far funnier than the original joke. She was probably the only person in the world who never seemed bothered by explaining everything to me ad nauseam.

“She is... certainly a choice as a TA,” Candy strained upon scrutinizing the smile that had returned to my face for the first time since (y/n)’s departure, “Will she be joining us at the conference?”

But then the guilt returned, wiping the smile from my face and replacing happy memories with deviant thoughts and fears.

“Oh... you know, I haven’t asked her.”

“That’s perfectly alright! I think we’ll do just fine without her.”

“Right...” I whispered, glancing back down at the stack of papers in my hand before setting it in the tray designated for (y/n). “I’ll have her look at your paper just in case.”

A lull in the conversation stretched past the point of comfort for both of us, and I glanced up at the woman I actually felt guilty for ignoring in place of fantasies that would probably never come to be. She hadn’t even done anything to warrant my disregard. She was an attractive woman — as beautiful as she was brilliant, really — she had worked very hard to garner my trust and academic collaboration. At one point, I had considered her one of the few potential candidates for something more than a purely academic partner.

But there was something about the way she looked at the honeyed girl that made my hair stand on end. A defensiveness and instinct that couldn’t be ignored.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that was all,” she said as she broke from what I presumed to be her own daydream, “I hope your semester keeps going well.”

“Thanks, I hope yours does, too.”

I meant it, despite the aforementioned concern. I wished her well in the semester for both selfless and selfish reasons. I wished her well because she deserved it, certainly. But the other reason, the larger one, was that I hoped she would remain distracted. I hoped that she didn’t notice the way I would slip away from her affections to chase those from a more interesting challenge. One that remained mysterious, with hair covered in pollen and lips sweet with ambrosia.

“I’ll talk to you soon, Dr. Reid.”

I failed to respond to her again before the door shut because my hands were already busy with rekindling contact with another.

“I have a proposition for you, Bunny.”

“Sounds ominous. I’m in.”  

The fact that the response came before I could even shut off the display was so characteristic of her that I had to laugh.

“You haven’t even heard it yet,” I observed, to which she once again immediately responded, “Your point being?”

“I’m afraid this is an obligation that does require some expansion before agreement.”

Her response was slower, then, and I could almost see her with a slight panic and overwhelming curiosity that grew stronger by the second.

“Ominous and vaguely unsettling,” she said.  

I considered drawing it out further, letting her imagination truly run wild with the possibilities. But then I realized that if she thought hard enough about it, she might reach the same place that had immediately come to my mind.

“Would you like to attend the upcoming conference with me?” I relented, almost stopping there but then frantically tagging on the conditions I knew would be most likely to cause hesitation. “You’d have your own room, of course. The department and I will help with funds.”

But, as it turned out, I didn’t need to be worried.

“A cheap weekend away from school where I get to be a nerd with you?” she sent with another set of small, smiling faces I was only just starting to understand, “Of course I’m going to say yes, Professor!”

“Perfect. I’ll arrange it.”

“I can’t wait!”

Although I felt the same, I forced myself to end contact again. I put my phone out of reach to prevent myself from spoiling any more of my fantasies than I already had. I didn’t need her to second-guess the possibilities of a weekend away together now that she’d already agreed to it.

The thought alone sparked guilt anew. Through the entire interaction, I’d infused each word with a charge that shouldn’t have been. Each line was far more provocative than it needed to be.

It was just an academic conference. Most people found them terribly dull, not to mention physically exhausting. It would not be a time away like most couples dreamed of because we were not a couple in any sense of the word.

Yet… I couldn’t help but feel that perhaps there weren’t as many differences as one might think. Because while yes, most people would be bored, I didn’t think Bunny would be. Clandestine meetings made between conference meetings sounded exactly like the kind of dreams we would share.

I believed it so strongly that my mind had already drafted several narratives that would suit her. I pictured her and I sharing company in public, unafraid of public displays of affection — innocent, childish kinds, of course — because we were miles away from those who might care.

That drunken, lust-inducing, half-lidded gaze from the week before would return. Except this time, I would taste the wine on her tongue, my hands sliding not over fluffy fabric, but the same skin that I’d felt for the first time that morning.

Behind our door, I would teach her so many things. Things that she would have begged me for. Things that others would see written on her skin in the shape of my fingers and mouth. Things that she would carry with a straighter back and dripping down her legs.

I didn’t just want to destroy her. I wanted to break her so that I could build her back with gold-laced lacquer. She would be my kintsugi creation full of sugar and honey, just imperfect enough that the sticky residue of her sweetness would slip through the cracks to coat everything she touched.

And then she would touch me, and I might finally feel like I deserved anything at all.

——————————————————

| Part Five |

[aquamarinescarlet]

Don’t give up just yet

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word count: ~3.6k

Warnings: two curse word (I think), brief mentions of sex and cheating, angst (bare in mind these warnings don’t apply the way you think they do, you’ll have to read to understand)

Summary: The classic soulmate AU, sentences written on each other’s wrists, but with a twist.

Author’s note: This was basically an excuse for me to reinvent the soulmate AU with the wrist tattoos thing. It’s sorta angsty, but I just thought the ending was too funny. Just experimenting here, tell me what you think.

PSA: Dividers are the count down till the day: black is reader focused, red is wanda focused, gold/yellow is also reader focused, but I thought it deserved a little spark.

“You should call her, y’know.”

“Why would I do that? She made her point very clear.”

“It’s her wedding day, Y/N,” Mia reasoned, “and this fight was months ago, you have to get over it.”

You rolled your eyes at her insistence. This discussion has been happening every day for the past two weeks.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, why am I the one who should get over it?” You emphasized.

“He is her soulmate, and she is your sister, the least you could do is pretend.”

“Ugh,” you let out a guttural scream, “I can’t do this anymore Mia, I stand by what I said. That man is an asshole and this soulmate thing is stupid. I don’t trust him, no matter what the words on both their wrists say, and I’m not gonna watch her go down with this and not do anything about it.”

Mia didn’t respond, she knew she’d reached your last nerve. You watched as the woman left your office, sending a last sympathetic glance your way before walking into the hall. 

Mia was right in some points, and you knew that. She was right about it being your sister’s wedding day and that you should be there to support her. She was wrong about you needing to be the one to apologize though. The way people manipulated their lives to fit this whole twisted Soulmate Theory made your blood boil.

The Soulmate Theory was quite simple: everyone was born with a sentence written on their wrists, popular belief is that those are the first words your soulmate will say to you. It was cute, and it worked most of the time, not for your sister though. Or at least you thought so.

Oli's soulmate was Isaac. They had met three years ago and eventually started dating. Oli was a firm believer of the Soulmate Theory and had never dated anyone before, so it was all new and exciting.

You started noticing the patterns roughly one year after they started dating. He was controlling her, discreetly, barely noticeable, but it was there. 

First with clothes, Oli had made it a habit to always ask for his opinions on her clothing, and he would tell her he hated something, regardless of her telling him over and over again she had liked it. You made little comments here and there about his actions, mostly jokes but with some truth behind, she didn’t notice.

Second was friends, Isaac would always want to meet Oli’s friends, and if she went out with one he didn’t know he would make her feel guilty. You started giving more serious warnings, pointing out what he was doing more clearly, she didn’t care and called you crazy.

Third was her feelings, he had his mind set on what her role should be in his life. He praised Oli endlessly when she cooked or cleaned. Other than that, he didn’t care, didn’t pay attention to her stories, didn’t appreciate her paintings and drawings… 

It got to the point where she wouldn’t want to paint anymore, when she was telling a story it would be without her usual excitement. Her smile no longer reached her eyes, she was constantly tired. 

You confronted her about it, several times, but it was of no use. You’d point out the facts and she’d retort with ‘he is my soulmate, the universe bound us together, he wouldn’t do this to me!’

Three months ago was the last time you two talked. She told you he asked her hand. She knew you would be against it, she tried to ease you into the idea of her being with Isaac for the rest of her life. You weren’t having any of it. 

After hours of screaming, arguing and loads of tears, she told you not to come to the wedding, and you said you wouldn’t. 

It’s now four days from the date and you’re not going as long as he’s the one she’s marrying.

You stared at the words on your own wrist. ‘It’s you’. That sentence haunted you for years. What a stupid set of words for your soulmate to say.

As a kid you adored the Soulmate Theory, you paid meticulous attention to the first words you’d exchange with anyone, you made new friends nearly every day in hopes of hearing those words, but they never came.

Until they came. At first it was exhilarating, but the ones you said didn’t match the ones on the person’s wrist. You were extremely disappointed. And then you heard them again, and again, and again… It became almost routine. Every single person you met would say ‘it’s you’ or some variation of it. 

You being who you are certainly didn’t help. During college you had started a tech company and now it had grown to be one of the biggest and most important in the field. The new inventions did win you several prizes and a lot of money. You were also stupid famous, being the young brilliant CEO and all. 

Ever since, you gave up on looking for your soulmate. It seemed counter productive to get yourself all worked up just for it not to happen every single day. You made your peace with it, although a small part of you just wanted to meet said person.

The situation with Isaac and Oli helped. Seeing that it could end up hurting you made it easier to not fixate on finding your soulmate. Nonetheless, the desire was there; hidden, pushed to the back of your mind, but still there.

You just wished your sister could see it too, that the Soulmate Theory is not the solution to all her problems. 

“Relax Steve, it’s all taken care of.” 

“What about the flowers? Did you book the buffet? Did you check with the band? And the decorations? I saw some people didn’t RSVP yet, should I redo the seating charts?” Steve rambled on as Wanda just laughed.

“The flower problem is solved, the buffet confirmed, so did the band, the wedding planner is working on the decorations and redoing the whole seating chart seems… unnecessary, they still have three days to confirm their presence.” She reassured the man who was more stressed than her about the whole situation.

“Okay, sorry, I just want to make sure everything is perfect.” He huffed, taking a seat on the couch. 

“It’s going to be perfect, don’t worry.” She couldn’t help the weirdness that surged upon uttering those words.

“How are you so calm?” Wanda just shrugged, not really sure how to answer. 

Steve took a deep breath and gazed at the red head, offering her a smile. 

“I’m going to sleep, all this wedding stuff has been stressing me all day.” 

“Okay,” Steve made his way to his bedroom but she called him before he reached the hallway, “thanks for the help Rogers.” 

“No worries.” He shot a last smile before disappearing. 

Wanda found herself alone in the living room, the silence only making her thoughts scream louder.

She would be married in three days. It seemed unbelievable. After losing her parents, being experimented on at Hydra, fighting along Ultron, losing her brother and becoming an Avenger, she never thought she would have time to fall in love.

Yet, here she is. Although the feeling wasn’t quite what she thought it would be. It wasn’t exciting, or nerve racking. She felt no different than any other day of her life. Steve seemed like the one who was getting married, not her. 

Vision is sweet and caring, she feels so happy around him. Then what is causing all these doubts to haunt her?

She knows what it is, she just doesn’t want to admit it.

Those words. Those stupid words painted forever on her wrist. ‘Don’t do this’. Ever since joining the Avengers she started using several bracelets to hide them, but they still burned on her skin every single day.

She’d heard of the Soulmate Theory at a very young age. Her parents had explained how those were the first words she’d hear from the love of her life. She would spend hours daydreaming all sorts of scenarios in which someone would say those words to her and they’d fall in love.

After her parent’s death, that stopped being her priority. At the Hydra base she’d only see her brother and a couple dozen different Hydra soldiers, too old and mean for a soulmate. 

Gaining powers was a game changer. She was older then. Stronger. They finally allowed her and Pietro to leave the base and create chaos in Hydra’s name. “Do good” in Hydra’s name. She believed she was doing the right thing. She truly did. 

Hearing her first ‘Don’t do this’ made her question everything. It came from a little kid nonetheless. A scared little kid. It must’ve been a mistake, she thought at the time. But that mistake happened, again, and again, and again… 

When she joined the Avengers her eyes were opened to all the pain and terror she had caused. All the people she hurt. Then it dawned on her, what if one of those ‘Don’t do this’ came from her soulmate? What if she had hurt them, or worse, killed them?

The idea terrified her. So she hid those words on her wrist. A reminder of the evil she’s done and the love she’ll never have. She promised herself to never look for her soulmate, she already caused them enough pain, they didn’t deserve to get tangled in the mess that was her life.

And then Vision was created. Him and Wanda got along greatly. He made her happy. They fell in love, or at least that’s what Wanda told herself, that she fell in love with him. It was possible, there’s no rule on the Soulmate Theory that says you can only fall in love with your soulmate. Plus, Vision is not human, so he doesn’t have words written on his wrist, he doesn’t have a predestined soulmate, technically he doesn’t even have an actual soul for this sort of thing. They could be each other’s soulmate. A loophole on this stupid theory.

Why didn’t it feel like that though? Why was she questioning it so much? And why now? Three days before her wedding?

She took off the bracelets and stared at the ink, brushing her fingers lightly over it. She loved Vision, she affirmed to herself. She wants to marry him. This is what she wants. And she believes in these words, for a while. Long enough for her to fall asleep, turning off her brain from overthinking the situation too much.

Work has had you occupied all week. With back to back meetings and loads of paperwork to fill out, you’ve barely had time to think of anything else.

But now it seems like everything is done and you have more free time than you’d like. 

You left the office early, not having much to do there anymore, and, instead of spending all afternoon home alone, you decided to go out for some coffee.

You were sitting on your usual table in the small coffee shop close to your place. It was calm, quiet and homely, a nice contrast between the places you frequent. The warm cup on your hands did nothing to distract you though.

The book you’d brought was long forgotten on the table as you glanced at your phone every few seconds. It’s two days till the wedding and, even though you tried not to think about it, you hoped your sister would text you saying she broke it off. It was unlikely, but wishing she could get some sense knocked into her wouldn’t kill.

You were so focused on your thoughts that you didn’t notice a woman glancing at you until you caught her trying to call your attention.

“It’s you!” She said, astonished, pointing to the cover of a magazine showing a picture of you.

Recognizing that issue as being a rather old one, you just nodded and offered the woman a friendly smile. She took that as an opportunity to approach you.

“Hi. Sorry,” she sounded excited and also nervous for bothering you, “I just wanted to say what an inspiration you are to women all around, to me especially. I’ve been opening my own business and seeing what you do has been such an encouragement to me. So, thank you!” 

You were surprised by how nice she was. You’d expected her to ask you to invest in her business or something, like everyone who approaches you does, but she didn’t and it was a nice change of pace for once.

“What kind of business are you opening?” You asked. Listen to her talk would be a good distraction, plus, you could use the company.

“Oh, no, that’s ok,” she said, “I don’t want to bother you any further.”

“Please,” you urged, “I have the rest of my day off and I could use someone to talk to. Unless you’re busy, then I wouldn’t want to be a burden to you.” You laughed to ease the woman’s nerves.

“Sure?” You nodded and gestured to the empty seat across from you. 

She accepted it and you spent at least an hour talking before she had to leave. It was a pleasant conversation, she praised your work but didn’t refrain from giving some interesting criticism on your business. The topic of an investment or a partnership never even came up. 

It got your sister out of your mind for a while, although it didn’t last long.

Laying on your bed, your eyes fought to stay open, your mind swirling with all possible scenarios regarding Oli. She would be miserable if she went through with this, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

You love your sister, you care so much about her, but she refuses to listen to your warnings. You could swallow your pride and go to the wedding. You could try and support her. But that would just make an accomplice to her stupidity and you’re not going to just stand there and pretend that that’s ok.

You thought about texting her, way too many times. But your relationship is already rocky as it is, the least you could do is hope she gets some clarity on her own.

One day till the wedding. She’s 24 hours away from the happiest day of her life. Why is it, then, that Wanda doesn’t feel as happy as she should be. 

She didn’t have to fake a smile, she was happy, but that smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

None of the others seemed to notice it. They just thought it was the nervousness of having everything set so the day could run smoothly. Vision even brought up the possibility of her having cold feet about it, but she denied it thoroughly, assuring him she wanted this.

And she does. She wants to get married, have kids and build up a family of her own. She wants it all. 

It still seemed weird though. Like something was off. 

“Steve just called,” Nat interrupted her thoughts, walking back into the room, “everything is set, prepped and organized for tomorrow.”

“Let’s try on the dress then.” Carol urged the girl to put on the piece of clothing for the millionth time.

It did her justice. Slim at the top and flowy at the bottom, accentuating all her curves perfectly. It wasn’t big and puffy but light and delicate. She smiled at her own reflection as the other women crammed around her to take a look.

“You look beautiful.” Pepper said in awe. 

“She does, doesn’t she.” Laura agreed, even though she’s the one that helped her choose it.

Wanda didn’t say anything, just smiling and appreciating her own image, excitement growing on her chest from wearing it in front of everyone the next day.

The girls spent hours planning how they would do her hair and makeup. There were so many ideas, disagreements and arguments that Wanda was completely drained by the end of the day. She was happy though, to see her friends being there for her, eager to help and make sure everything was perfect.

It was nice to have people around since she lost so much throughout the years.

After the women were gone and she found herself alone, Wanda’s thoughts from the beginning of the day came back, hitting her like a train.

Was she really more excited about wearing a dress than about getting married? Was this a sign of her actually getting cold feet? 

She shrugged them away, affirming to herself these are just stupid uncertanties people always get before their wedding day. At least that’s what happens in movies, so nothing to worry about... right?

Thankfully your work slump had subsided as now a gigantic pile of papers sat on your table. Some contracts had to be restructured and a set of stores had to be chosen to distribute your newest technology. 

You thrived in that scenario, with countless reports and 2D drawings of the prototypes scattered about the room. Your mind was going a thousand miles a minute, seemingly unaware of the events that would take place later that day.

That peace, however, was short lived. Your brain short circuited for a second when you checked what had caused your phone to buzz.

Two voicemails. 

From none other than Isaac. 

It was right then that it dawned on you: Oli was marrying that asshole today. In only a couple of hours actually.

Before listening to the messages you started to record your phone screen, maybe he would try to threaten you or something and you could use that to convince Oli to break things off with him. It wouldn’t kill to be precautious.

The first one was sweet, although it almost made you gag, it was sent with good intentions. Isaac was asking you to go easy on Oli, regardless of your feelings towards him, you should be supportive of her and her decisions. Too pretentious for your liking, but sent with good intentions nonetheless.

The second one started awfully weird. Some muffled sounds, things you couldn’t quite make out. Until you heard a loud moan, your eyes going wide as you pushed your phone away from your face. Isn’t it technically ‘bad luck’ to see the bride on the wedding day? You didn’t have time to dwell on those thoughts as the voice on the phone started to moan each other’s names. The woman didn’t sound anything like Oli, because it wasn’t Oli. Isaac was cheating on your sister? And on their wedding day!?

Oh you weren’t about to just let that go. You stopped the recording, thanking your intuition, and quickly ringed Oli.

It rang once… twice… three times… and then voicemail. You tried at least four more times until you figured she just didn’t want to talk to you.

“Marie can you come in here please?” You called your secretary.

A few seconds later she popped her head inside your office.

“How can I help?”

“Can I use your phone!?” You sounded more exasperated than you wished.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to call your sister today?” Damn, that woman knows you too well. You sighed loudly.

“Please… I just…” You trailed off, sounding desperate this time around.

Thankfully Marie gave in and lent you her phone. You typed Oli’s number and rang it, several times, she didn’t pick up once. You were starting to get truly desperate now.

“Do you have the address?” You handed Marie her phone back.

“Here.” She handed you a piece of paper from her pocket. 

It was on the other side of the city, at least a one hour drive. You quickly grabbed your coat, purse and phone, rushing out of the office, only being stopped by a hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” You gave her a reassuring smile and a quick nod before making your way to your car. Marie has been working with you since the beginning, she always knew when you were up to nothing good. She also knew that when you set your mind to something, there was no stopping you.

The drive was excruciating. You kept making stupid mistakes and taking wrong turns. Everything seemed to work against you, being it: accidents, red lights, slow drivers, pedestrians. Even the birds chirping around were pissing you off.

You finally reached the venue and stopped the car messily in the front entrance. You quickly ran up the stairs, and almost tripped and fell when you heard the officiant was already performing the ceremony.

You reached the doors and yanked them open, hopefully interrupting the wedding before it was too late.

“Don’t do this!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, nearly breathless. 

The guests all turned towards you, surprised. So did the couple on the podium.

Except those people weren’t Oli and Isaac. You recognized them, Vision and Scarlet Witch, or at least that’s the names they went for on television. You’ve seen them before, doing business with Stark had its perks, but had never been introduced.

You could’ve felt bad, but your stomach was a turmoil of faith and nausea. You were either really early or really late to stop Oli.

“Sorry,” you said, trying to catch your breath, “wrong wedding, carry on.” You turned around to leave, but not before noticing the bride glancing at her own wrist.

You didn’t get the chance to take a single step out the door before her voice filled the silence that had settled.

“It’s you.” You stopped dead on your tracks. Your wrist burning slightly, not the kind of pain to cause discomfort, just enough to be noticeable.

Those words. 

Her looking at her wrist.

Your’s burning now.

You turned back around, earning all kinds of confused glances from the guests. Your eyes fell on the woman, a smirk plastered on your lips.

“Seems like this isn’t the wrong wedding after all.”

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Hades

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades

Lucifer

Well… this is awkward…

He’s actually met Hades multiple times for business reasons (Underworld-Devildom relations are amiable if not a little odd. Hades was something of an uncle figure to Diavolo as a wee demon lad, which should speak for itself really). He’s a gloomy fellow and not much for chit-chat, but he never thought they’d end up taking one of his kids by accident…

He had to send a formal apology letter to the Lord of the Underworld immediately, but thankfully he didn’t seem very concerned for his offspring - if anything he appeared to think the Devildom would suit them nicely which was… concerning.

And he was not wrong. The darkness, demons, ghouls, and frights of the Devildom hardly seemed to faze the MC, if anything they fit right in. He’d dare say they were thriving if not for one thing…

They were So. Damn. Bleak.

Getting a smile out of this one AT ALL was rare. For once he felt the need to check up on someone constantly just to be sure they were alright... They’d keep assuring the House that they’re not actually as sad as they look but it’s hard not to assume…

He was a little mortified at first when they first met Cerberus cause… well they called him “Cerbi” and the massive demonic guard dog rolled over for them like a Golden Retriever! 

Apparently he and the Cerberus that they knew are from the same litter and they must have smelt familiar... He would have probably limited their interactions just to keep his dog on his side but after seeing the MC smile for once while they played with the big oaf well…

Cerberus got a new playmate and the MC got a massive, three-headed therapy animal. Win-win. 😌

Mammon

Do ya really gotta be such a downer all the time, MC…? 😔

He thinks they’re nice, like really nice. They’re always super concerned when his brothers attack him or when he gets injured, but he’s pretty sure it’s because they’ve seen people die before so…

At first, he had no idea why he had to be saddled with this depressing wisp of mortal but over time he started to understand that they weren’t all that sad. They had… Resting Gloom Face? Is that a thing? 

They also had a different way of seeing things. He could win the lottery and they’d tell him to stay inside so he wouldn’t get hit by lightning or if he pissed off the wrong people, they’d joke about him keeping his fingers and toes. Dark stuff, but not intended to be so… well morbid.

However, what he eventually found out that the REAL advantage to having a Hades kid in the Devildom was that nothing scared them. Literally nothing. Not even the ghosts - which to reiterate, are terrifying!

Cue Mammon getting dragged to horror movies nights with his brothers and pulling the MC along to be his personal security blanket. He’ll hold onto them for dear life as they just pat his head or something, watching and not even flinching at the jumpscares.

The first time the House had an unexpected power outage he clung onto the back of their shirt like a lost child while they calmly looked for the circuit-breaker...

If he could jump into their arms every time something scary happened like Scooby-Doo, he absolutely would. His brothers make fun of him, but after seeing the MC handle Cerberus like a puppy any time something frightens them they hide behind the mortal as well…

Leviathan

In some ways, he totally relates to their moodiness but come on! Who can still look so sad when watching The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl?? Ruri-chan can make anyone smile! 😠

When he first met the MC, he was a little confused about why they didn't find him intimidating at all. He even reverted to his demon form and showed his fangs but no dice! All they said was, "I've walked along the edge of Tartarus. You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that, buddy…" 

That was probably his first sign that the "human" wasn't normal…

After Mammon told him who their Dad was, things made a lot more sense. A child of Hades in the Devildom? That's ironic enough to be its own anime plot!! They certainly felt like an angsty protagonist at times. 🤷‍♀️

Truth be told, they could relate to each other in a lot of ways. You wouldn't think that an offspring of the Underworld and a demonic shut-in would have much in common but the one thing they share between them is that sense of never really fitting in.

Turns out that Hades kids are black sheep, even among other demigods, and Levi? Well, he's had trouble relating to others since his angel days. He and the mortal were like off-beat kindred spirits!

Which, I mean, you wouldn't get just by looking at them together. Levi being the impassioned super-otaku rambling their ear off while his somber companion would just go along with him quietly, but hey, there's more beneath the surface. Probably. 

Now if he could just get them to cosplay as the Lord of Emptiness with him… They'd be perfect! Perfect he says!!

Satan

Highly considered drugging their food with antidepressants for a while… 

This was before getting to know them better, of course, but for the first couple months he honestly couldn't shake the feeling that the mortal looked miserable! 

Now, he's one to particularly care for the comfort of strangers, but just looking at them like that every day would sour his own mood quite considerably. It was very irritating...

It was only on closer inspection that he realized there was something else at play, though.

The mortal was different - even for a demigod he imagined. They took to the Devildom easily and the realm almost accepted them right back!

The flora looked better in their presence, the hellish beasts that roamed the wilds would roll over for them, and they even seemed to be welcomed in by the never-ending shadows… 

It was fascinating. Like the effects of the Underworld were baked into their DNA and mingled with the environment around them… Two layers of darkness coexisting within one person.

I mean, what other creature - other than Lucifer - could ride Cerberus around like a pony??

Had they not been so kind, they'd probably scare him shit-less... Their potential power was too great to ignore. But after getting used to their gloom, at least they made for pleasant company. 🤷‍♀️

Satan likes them well enough, but even still he has to wonder just what they were capable of… you know?

Asmodeus

Oh. My. WORD. What a buzzkill!!!

Really, the new mortal was no good at parties or pictures for that matter!

Not because they looked bad, or even because he couldn't get them to smile, but because GHOSTS would always photobomb any pictures they were in!! 😫

One time he got a selfie with them on the couch and a creepy ghost child could be seen hiding behind the cushions so NOPE. No more photos with the mortal around!!

Aside from that, he couldn't say the mortal was all bad or anything…They were pretty friendly, despite their general look and feel. 

Though, personally, he thought they wore far too much black... Even in the Devildom, there's normally a pop of color, you know? Was that just the Hades dress code?

And you want to know the weirdest thing? Despite everything about them screaming "Doom and Gloom," they're straaaangely popular among the RAD dating scene…

Like. Not as some heartthrob, "Love'em and Leave'em"-type, but he's found that there's a LOT of his demonic classmates who think they're cute or have a crush on them in some way…

Naturally, he can see the appeal of the mysterious, moody demigod with a dark, troubled past. It's just the demigod in question is completely oblivious to it! 🤷‍♀️

He tried to give them dating tips or play matchmaker from time to time but eventually gave up when it was clear they weren't interested. Alas, students of RAD, this is one forbidden fruit that refuses to be shared…! Such a tragedy… 😔

Beelzebub

They remind him of Belphie… like. A lot.

The similarities were obvious. They had a similar feel, made similar jokes, and even the same somewhat dreary attitude about them...

If he were being honest, at the beginning there were times when he'd open up to them a lot more than he intended because he'd forget that he wasn't actually talking to Belphie…

Thankfully, he knew better than to try and treat them like his replacement or anything. They were two different people after all. But it didn't stop him from feeling extra protective around them for a while.

Besides, there was ONE thing that set them leagues apart from Belphie and that was the fact they were a shit cook. Not quite as bad as Solomon but uh… Actually no, that's a closer call than it has any right to be...

Apparently, Hades kids don't need to eat as much and when you hang out with shades and skeletons for most of your life, you don’t really worry about making food that's any better than… "Well, technically it's edible." 🤷‍♀️

Their food won't kill a person like Solomon's, but you WILL start seeing stuff you probably shouldn't. He tried their "soup" once and swore he saw the ghost of his mother… and he doesn't even have a mother!!!

He swears that if he ever sees the MC and Solomon working together in the same kitchen he's skipping town… Whatever culinary abomination the two of them could create would probably gain sentience and eat HIM instead. He's always figured he'd go out with Death by Food, but not like that!! 😫

Belphegor

Ever meet someone who’s like looking in a mirror? Yeah, he’s getting those vibes…

He never expected the "human" to be so similar to him, it was kind of uncanny.

Upon first laying eyes on each other there was a pause… then a squint… and then… a nod.

Honestly, their combined dry wit, dark humor, and pessimistic outlook played off of each other surprisingly well. Too well for him to hate, really.

Not that it mattered because they didn’t believe him for a second when he tried to trick them (they had dealt with loads of lying monsters before). He hated to admit it, but they had a good head on their shoulders and knew better than to trust a locked up demon…

And yet, they seemed to stick around with him anyway. Because of the good conversation or just empathizing with his loneliness was anyone's guess. 🤷‍♀️

Sometimes they'd come up and sit outside the door in comfortable silence… Or they'd talk about whatever:

MC: *sitting out by the attic with their back against the door* So what happens to demons when they die…?

Belphie: *laying on the floor on the other side, staring at the ceiling* Depends on the kind. If I die, I'll just reform later.

MC: Like a reincarnation?

Belphie: Eh. *shrugs* Maybe. Haven't died yet.

MC: You could die in there, you know.

Belphie: *throws a side glare* Well thanks for bringing that up…

MC: *shrugs* What? It's true. But don't worry, I won't let you. *small-ish smile*

Belphie: *stares at them wide-eyed and pink-cheeked before turning on his side quickly* Ugh… whatever…

They did their word, somehow. They eventually got the door open and let him out, but by that time the anger was gone and he was just happy to finally talk to them face-to-face...

And good thing too, because apparently it's not smart to fight a death-child in what is essentially their element - as he saw when they summoned an army of skeletons to kick Levi's ass when he cheated them in Devil Cart...

He would not have lasted in that fight... Dodged a bullet there. 

[nott-emotionally-stable]

Professor Widogast stumbles into his classroom one particular Monday morning, silencing the murmurs of "if he's more than 15 minutes late, we're legally allowed to leave!" Well, he presumes that's what they're saying; his ears are still ringing from last night.

He gives his students a quick logical puzzle as a warm-up. However, more than a few moments later, the kids are all still gaping at him. Caleb doesn't blame them; it's not every day that your teacher comes in looking like a human punching bag. There's gashes still visible on his neck and hands, and his body is basically one big bruise. Even Caduceus’s healing paired with a long rest wasn't enough to fully restore him.

"Aright," he sighs, resigned. "Who has questions?"

Every hand in the room shoots up simultaneously. Caleb feels an amused smirk pulling at his lips- at least they're curious.

"Wonderful. Once you complete the warm-up, you may bring it up to my desk and ask one question each."

The sound of pencils scribbling across paper fills the room. The children start quietly muttering to one another, some discussing the problem, most discussing their teacher. Caleb rests his eyes for a moment. Ohhh, that feels nice.

It feels like not a moment later when his trance is broken by the sound of confident footsteps and something being placed on his desk. Without opening his eyes, he responds, "Yes, Elise?"

An assertive, yet slightly squeaky voice answers back. "How'd you get so hurt?"

"I got into a fight last night." He says matter-of-factly.

The room bursts into sounds of disbelief. "No way!" one boy exclaims, as another one shouts "I told you!" Caleb peeks his eyes open and sees a few hands exchanging some copper, as twenty students start demanding more answers out of him. Caleb allows the volume of the room to rise a little longer before trying to regain some control.

"Please calm down everyone, I do not need the other teachers angry with me. In fact, I believe Professor Biesdorf is giving an exam right now, so let's tone it down a notch."

The students are not relenting, so Caleb decides to remind them of the rules. "I am not answering another question until there is another paper on my desk."

It helps a little. Some kids are too busy staring at him in awe to continue. They all must have assumed he slipped on some ice or tripped over one of his cats. These students are too young to have been taught of any of his exploits, so to them, he's just a stuffy professor who spends too much time in the library.

Another paper gets tossed onto his desk. "What did you fight," a boy named Otto demands. He's trying to act unfazed, but there's excitement sparkling in his eyes.

Caleb pauses for a moment for dramatic effect. "Someone I used to call a friend." Gasps echo around the room.

Not much longer, another paper is slammed in front of him. “Did you kill him?”

Caleb grins, “Ohhh, no. She’s much too clever for that.”

Soon enough, there’s a steady stream of worksheets being scattered around him, as his students congregate excitedly on the other side of his desk.

“Did you win, though?”

“Hmmm… I would say no.” Caleb squints his eyes faux-menacingly. “But you better not tell her that.”

“Who is she?”

“For security reasons, I cannot give her name out.” An uncontrollable smile fills Caleb’s face. “However, in this room only, we may refer to her as Fiona Fancypants.”

“Fiona Fancypants?” One girl manages to say through her giggling.

“Yes,” Caleb says with wide eyes. “And you better not underestimate her.”

“Why? What can she do?”

“She is not a sorcerer, and yet, she can create magic without a god, without music, and without a spellbook.”

“But isn’t that supposed to be impossible?”

“It is, yes.” (A/N: don’t come at me if i’m wrong, im dumb and its 2am)

“What kind of magic can she do?”

“I’ve seen her send large beasts to another plane of existence. I’ve seen her glue together petrified people and then bring them back to life. I've seen her deceive an ancient hag with nothing other than her own cunning and a moldy blueberry cupcake.”

“Are you in love with her?”

Now it’s Caleb’s turn to laugh in surprise. “No, but I do love her.”

“Then why did you fight her?”

“She betrayed me.”

“What did she do?”

“Yes, what did she do?” a deeper voice asks from the doorway. All the kids spin around to identify the unknown voice. There stands a dark elven man with curly black hair that sits at his shoulders. In his left hand he is carrying a brown paper bag. Caleb mentally kicks himself. Since he used up all his spell slots last night, he slept at the Blooming Grove with the rest of the Nein, and then he teleported right to the Academy in the morning. Which means he forgot to pick up his lunch from home.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet… Ussek.”

Essek, who has started making his way (🎵making his way🎵) through the classroom, momentarily freezes in bemusement. “Ah, yes. My name is... Ussek. It’s very nice to meet all of you. I’m sorry to interrupt, but even the smartest teacher in the world forgets things sometimes.” Essek places the paper bag on Caleb’s desk, next to the cluttered mix of papers. He picks one up and studies it with a serious expression before turning it around, revealing it to be nothing more than a series of scribbles. “Hard at work, I see,” he says in the driest of voices.

“Yes, well thank you for the reminder. We were all just getting back to our seats.” Caleb gives his class a pointed look. The kids all groan as they return to their spots. They watch closely as the two men turn away from them, speaking in hushed voices.

“So what did Fiona do?” Essek teases with a quirk of the eyebrow.

“... It was a complicated-”

“She challenged your word in Scrabble again?”

“Yes! Every time we play!”

“And you responded by attacking her?” Essek asks dubiously.

“What do you think?” Caleb retorts.

“That she attacked you?”

“Ah, at first it was just Thaumaturgy, but then it… escalated.”

“Well, do not worry. Next week, I’ll be there to protect you.”

Caleb looks at the ceiling and sighs, a smile dancing on his face. “I am going to ignore the insinuation there, and just say that everyone missed you at family dinner.”

Essek mirrors his boyfriend’s easy smile. “Of course they did. I do float, after all. Now, you better return to your students before they figure out my identity and rat me out to the Bright Queen.”

And Caleb most certainly does not blush, because there is no way his super hot boyfriend just made him forget that he’s supposed to be in the middle of a lesson.

Essek holds Caleb’s gaze as he does a quick series of hand motions and vanishes. Caleb just rolls his eyes as he turns back to his class, because he knows Essek just Dimension Door-ed into the hallway to impress the kids.

And it worked. The entire class has their mouths agape once again. Except for one terrified-looking child in the back of the room, who has his hand up.

“Yes Charlie?”

“Is Fiona Fancypants still looking for you?”

Schiesse. It was not Caleb’s intention to traumatize any children, so he shakes his head and responds, “Do not worry, she is on a boat right now on the other side of the world. She has no idea where I am.”

And indeed, Jester is sitting on the deck of The Nein Heroez on the other side of the world. However, at this moment, she is giggling through her scry spell as she’s describing all of this to her own boyfriend. (“He looks sooooo fucked up right now, Fjord, you have no idea.”)

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

I’ll Take X-pecting for 200, Alex

Summary: Dr. Spencer Reid plays a trivia game at the request of his wife, Y/N, but he’s in for more than some heaving hitting questions. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Wife Reader 

Word Count: 1.5k 

Author’s Note: I really don’t think that this summary does this justice

I’ll Take X-pecting for 200, Alex 

Shuffling the cards with a shake in her hand, Y/N tells herself to just breathe. This is something that Spencer and her have been looking forward to, dreamed about, and constantly discussed. Regardless of how much she knows Spencer loves her, there’s a lingering seed of doubt that only grows with the sound of Spencer walking into their house. 

“Y/N!, I’m home, darlin’,” Spencer calls from the hallway, dropping the “g” because he knows that Y/N finds it endearing. 

“Baby,” Y/N yells from the table. “I’m in the dining room. I made us a trivia game! Come play with me, I need your brains,” she finishes, smiling at her husband, who has been away for nearly two weeks.

“You know do I love trivia, Y/N,” Spencer says. He takes a seat next to his wife, but before he can kiss her, she pushes him out of his chair and motions for him to take the seat opposite of her.

“Before we start, how was the case? Everyone make it home in one piece?” Y/N asks concerned over the wellbeing of some of her closest friends. 

“Everyone’s fine, Y/N. The unsub ended up being a team. Two women hellbent on getting revenge for their children’s murders. One of them got away,” Spencer explains, solemnly. 

“Oof,” Y/N says, letting out a sigh. “It’s at times like these that I’m glad I don’t have your job. I’m kinda glad she got away, between you and me.” 

“It’s hard, sometimes we don’t really know who we’re bringing justice too. But, I’d do anything to protect my future children, and you. Anything I needed to do to keep you safe,” Spencer tells her, leaning across the table and kissing Y/N’s hand. She gives him a sheepish smile, but inside her mind is eager to get this trivia game started. 

“You’re a charmer, Dr. Reid,” Y/N flirts. 

“Just for you, Y/N. Now you mentioned something about trivia,” Spencer says, clapping his hands together excitedly. 

“I just thought you’d like to rest your brain after a case but shifting though all those facts you got stored up there. And I always said you should try out for Jeopardy,” Y/N says as she collects the cards with the clues. 

She spreads out the categories, Child Psychology, Children’s Books, Labor & Delivery, Nursery Rhymes, X-Epecting, on the table. They were all handwritten on different colorful pieces of cardstock and decorated with baby animals and block letters. Y/N read the categories aloud to her husband, allowing herself to steal a glance at his face while he concentrated on the categories, as if he already could answer the questions. 

“All right, Spencer, you pick first,” Y/N says, in her best Alex Trebek impression. 

“I’ll take Child Psychology for $200,” Spencer chooses, looking up to smile at Y/N. 

“This is the substitute mother that baby monkeys formed an attachment to in Harlow’s psychological experiment,” Y/N asks.

“Terry-Cloth,” Spencer interjects. 

“Not uh, Spence, you need to answer correctly,” Y/N teases. She looks up at him expectantly to choose the next clue. He rolls his eyes at her, but secretly he enjoys the playful banter they still share even after all these years. 

“Um, Children’s Books $200,” 

“This is the story of the clever spider that can weave words in her web,” 

“What is Charlotte’s Web?” 

“Correct, pick again please,” Y/N says, as she tries to maintain a stoic composure. 

“This is the average of days that newborns keep up their sleepless parents,” Y/N asks, sure that this question would stump her genius husband. But to no avail, Spencer answers the question correctly. 

“Okay! Next time try-outs are around, I’m forcing you to take the test,” Y/N says running over to kiss Spencer on the cheek. 

“You know judges are supposed to remain impartial, Y/N” Spencer tells her, putting his arm around her waist as if he’s signally her to sit in his lap. 

“I can’t help it, how about you win kisses every time you get a question right, Spence,” Y/N proposes. 

“I guess it’s worth more than fake money,” Spencer teases.

“You offend me, baby!” Y/N pretends to be hurt by Spencer’s words, but urges him to continue the game. 

“You only got a couple more left, Spence,” 

“Okay, how about X-Expecting for $200,” Spencer chooses. 

“This chromosome is linked to the baby’s mother,” Y/N quizzes, finding it difficult to keep her smiles and secrets at bay when Spencer’s arm tugs around her waist tightly and his fingers draw patterns under her shirt. 

“What is X-Chromosome,” Spencer answers before Y/N can even finish the clue. 

“You know that you’re supposed to wait until the clue is read, Spence. I should redact kisses,” Y/N fake threats. 

“No! Y/N I’ll die without your kisses, please!” Spencer cries out in pretend disain. Much to his amusement his goofy behavior leads Y/N to plant small pecks on his forehead. 

“There, that should hold you over,” 

“I doubt it, Y/N. I miss you already,” Spencer mutters into her shoulder, as if he’s trying to get closer to his wife more than he could already be with her sitting on his lap. 

“Two more clues till Final Jeopardy,” Y/N announces, ignoring the fact that she’s bypassing the rest of the clues and totally disregarding Double Jeopardy. 

“Hmm, let’s go to Nursery Rhymes for kissing for the rest of my life,” Spencer picks, peppering Y/N’s shoulder with kisses. 

“Huh! Look at that, Spencer, you got the Daily Double, so whatcha going to wager?” Y/N asks, knowing she’s pulling this Daily Double straight out of the air, but Spencer’s affection for only one lifetime is not nearly enough for her. 

“I’ll make a true Daily Double, darling. That means double the amount of kisses,” Spencer tells her, ticking the sides of Y/N waist. 

“Here’s your clue, Jack is urged to be nimble & quick, helping him do this,” Y/N reads from the card. 

“What is to jump over the candlestick?” Spencer guesses, closing his eyes to be assaulted by Y/N’s eager lips. 

“Yay! Double kisses!” Y/N yells happily as she pecks Spencer’s eyelids and nose, causing him to laugh at her light affection. 

“Next question, it’s the last one so you don’t get a choice, but I have so much confidence in you, my genius husband. These are the names of the 3 stages of labor?” Y/N questions, looking over her shoulder to get a glimpse of Spencer’s mind at work. 

“What are dilation, expulsion, and afterbirth,” Spencer answers, once again perfectly. 

“Okay, Dr. Reid you’ve accumulated a total of double kisses for the rest of our lives. Your Final Jeopardy category is, Ready For It…” Y/N announces. 

“Last one,” Spencer says, and Y/N wonders if Spencer’s figured it out by now. She hands Spencer the small cardboard box. He looks at it curiously and Y/N can feel her heart in her stomach. He must know by now, she thinks. He’s brilliant, but sometimes he can be a little clueless when it comes to things like that. Y/N thinks back to how they danced around each other for years before Derek practically had to force them out on a date. He must know. 

“You’re clue is inside the box, Spence,” Y/N tells him, her voice shaky and unsure. 

Spencer carefully opens the cardboard box and reaches in to pull out the small pregnancy test that lay hidden inside. He looks it over, reading the test twice, three times, maybe even four times. He honestly can’t remember taking longer to read something. Spencer looks up at a terrified Y/N. 

“You’re pregnant? We’re going to have a baby?” Spencer asks, desperately wanting to believe what he holds in his hand. 

“You’re gonna be a daddy, Spence,” Y/N tells him, her smile struggling to conceal itself in between the bouts of happiness and joy that courses through her veins. 

“A baby! Oh Y/N. A baby!” Spencer shouts rushing over to where his wife stands in between the entrance from their kitchen to their dining room. 

“You’re happy, right Spence. You want this with me-” Y/N starts, a sudden rush of fear lodging itself in her heart. 

“Of course I’m happy, Y/N. I’m so happy to be a dad. You’re going to be a mom! You’ll be the best mom, Y/N. I love you, Y/N,” Spencer says, crouching down to rub his hands on Y/N’s belly. 

“Hi sweet baby,” Y/N says softly, looking down at her belly and covering her hand over Spencer’s. “I want you to meet your daddy. He’s going to take care of you so well, he might talk a lot but you get used to it” 

“Hey, baby. It’s your dad,” Spencer murmurs quietly into Y/N’s belly. “I’m so glad that mommy told me about you. You gotta do some growing in there before you can meet us, but we love you so much, baby,”

“I really love you so much Y/N,” Spencer says as he sits up to kiss his wife. 

All his life Spencer’s loved science. He loves discovering the undiscovered. Memorizing all those theories and facts and methods could never prepare him for the awe that sat before him. He realizes that he’s looked at science all wrong. There's a beauty in science- a natural, unadulterated beauty that’s so rare to find. But he’s found it and he’s never letting go.

Thank You for Reading!

Taglist: @calm-and-doctor​ 

If anyone wants to be tagged in new posts, feel free to comment and I’ll be thrilled to tag you <3

[lonely-lost-soul]

First Lady of the Court

Part 3: Ghostbur (C!Wilbur Soot x reader)

A worn journal was opened, the pages faded and yellowing, a pen was placed on the parchment and the owner began to write. The sun rose over the horizon, and the wind nipped at the writer's skin, but they didn’t feel it. They didn’t feel many of life's sensations anymore, sometimes he felt warmth but it was always fleeting. He titled the page:

"Things I Remember", by Ghostbur

-The smell of bread

- L'Manberg

- The Revolution

- Bullying Tommy (he's a child)

- Sparring with Techno as a kid

- The wind

- Being president

- People cheering for me

- Fundy growing up

- Niki

- (Y/N) becoming my first lady

- The van

- Tubbo building everything

- Phil protecting me

- Sally the salmon

- (Y/N) the new love of my life

- (Y/N) adoring Fundy and treating him as her own

- Philza stabbing me to death with a sword

- A large explosion

-(Y/N) crying for me, I don’t like when she’s sad

- The taste of salt

- Air in my lungs

- Winning the election

- A ravine

- Techno's armory

- Books

- Tunnels

- Arrows

- ./..

-

- I don't know

The ghost’s head snapped up to attention, up until a few months ago he was lost in a void of darkness. Pieces were coming back together for him, he was once Wilbur Soot the president of the country he fought and died for, but now he didn’t have a purpose. He wanted to find Fundy, Tommy and Phil let them know he was here and alright, well alright for a ghost. But most importantly he wanted to find (Y/N), her cries wouldn’t leave his head. It was bad, a bad, bad memory, he’d taken to holding pieces of blue to make him feel better, but even that didn’t help his mood.

Eventually, Wilbur had found Fundy, who wasn’t that thrilled to see him, much to his disappointment. When he found Tommy he was slightly more thrilled and Phil seemed to be relieved yet mournful, Wilbur didn’t understand why, he did a good thing. However he had yet to find her, Phil seemed to be the only one who knew but he was giving him nothing. He didn’t know why was it because you didn’t want to see him? The thought made him want to cover himself in blue and beg for forgiveness. He managed to find a brand new buddy in his mourning, a blue sheep he had dubbed Friend. You would love her, (Y/N) adored sheep she would love Friend, she could be a forgiveness gift. Yet, nobody would tell the ghost where you were no matter how much he begged and pleaded, he watched as his once-prosperous country got rebuilt. Tubbo was doing a fantastic job as president, everyone seemed happy and Ghostbur accepted that fact.

A few days ago, Ghostbur sensed something was wrong. Phil was acting weirdly distant and even though Tubbo was trying to dodge his questions, he couldn’t fathom what was going on, until he saw you. You had come in wearing Alivebur’s old jacket and Ghostbur immediately froze, your hair was slightly messy and you looked tired. You were still you, same gorgeous, beautiful you, if his heart was still beating it would’ve skipped a beat. The only difference he could find was that your eyes looked deader than his own, and he was a ghost, it made him ache terribly. He wanted to float towards you, to welcome you with open arms but for some reason, he hesitated. He watched as Phil made his way over to you, he wrapped you in a hug and you hugged him back, the two made some small talk before Phil rubbed the back of his neck. Your brow furrowed and he watched you blink in surprise, you looked over Phil’s shoulder and right through Wilbur. The ghost would’ve flushed if he had blood, instead he settled on fiddling with the cuffs of his sweater before holding up a hand in a wave. You stumbled back away from him looking over at Phil who gave a little nod, Wilbur watched you shake your head and his heart sunk. His father reached out to you and your face scrunched up, you were hissing at him, clearly pissed off. Phil whacked you on the back of his head and you glared at the older man, Wilbur felt a small nudge on his arm, it was Friend. He took a shaky breath and ran his fingers through her wool, at least she had his back, when he looked up again you were marching over to him.

God, you were hot when you were mad.

“(Y/n)! Darling! It’s good to see you-”

“You son of a bitch!” You spat at him, eyes suddenly blazing with life and fire, Ghostbur felt himself falter and shrink into himself. “You think you can just come back here after what you did to us! How you treated us, how you treated me!” Ghostbur’s face fell, he didn’t remember hurting you, he refused to remember that memory, but the way he clutched his blue said enough. “I loved you! I wanted to marry you!” You choked out suddenly deflating as tears began to well in your eyes, you cursed and covered your face with your sleeve. “I cannot believe I’m crying right now.”

“You need some blue?” Wilbur said in a soft, tender voice different than you last remembered. You looked out over your sleeve finally taking in his ghostly appearance, he was wearing his big, round glasses, eyes a soft grey. Blue seemed to be pooling in the edges almost like tears, he had a shaky smile on his features, the yellow sweater he wore was one you’ve never seen before, a large red gash sat on his chest. He watched you swallow thickly and take a step back from him, “I don’t remember what happened to make you hate me so dear.” His voice quivered and he heard you whimper, “But I am so sorry...you can call me Ghostbur, I want to be different from Alivebur. Though his love for you still lives in me.”

Ghostbur watched you let out a heart-wrenching sob as you fell to your knees in front of him. You were clutching the L’manburg pin on your lapel, knuckles white, hands shaking in petrification. He floated beside you and wrapped you up in his arms, the hug wasn’t unwelcome but it was cold, Wilbur knew you’d feel no warmth from it but he hoped it’d bring you some form of comfort.

“I missed you. So much,” You admitted with a sniff, and Ghostbur couldn’t help but smile sadly.

“I missed you too,” He ran a hand through your hair and you leaned into the apparition's ghostly touch. Ghostbur glanced up at Phil who had a tense smile on his face as he nodded slightly at the ghost, it read don’t hurt her again, and Wilbur nodded. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you, you need to meet Friend!” His eyes lit up a little as he looked around for his blue sheep, “You’ll love her!”

“I’ve been living with Fundy,” You answered his question and his brows furrowed, but Fundy had told him he had no idea where you lived. “We’ve been taking care of one another, just like I promised you we would,” You responded flatly, your voice had a flat affect and Wilbur shuffled uncomfortably in the air.

Where was your spark? Your lust for life and the good things? Was this his fault?

No. No, it couldn’t have been, he refused to accept that outcome.

Alivebur loved you just as much as Ghostbur did, he felt that love so deep in his being it was almost suffocating. So, he’d never hurt you, you don’t hurt the people you love and that’s a fact. So why were you so sad?

“That’s weird. Fundy said he couldn’t find you!” Ghostbur huffed, shaking his head at his son's actions, “My silly, little champion.”

“Ghostbur don’t call him that, he doesn’t like it.” You stated gruffly crossing your arms and his frown only deepened,

“What do you mean he doesn’t like it? Of course, he likes it, he loves it!”

“No Wil he doesn’t. Stop it.” You hissed and he flinched, your face fell a little and you turned away from him. You shoved your hands in the pockets of the jacket, “I need a smoke.” You muttered and his jaw dropped,

“That’s bad for you! You know that!”

“So what? It makes me fucking feel better. You’re not my Wilbur. Stop pretending you give a shit about me.”

“I do care! I love you!” He argued desperately, “I know I’m not him. I can never be him but that doesn’t mean I love you any less. His love transferred to me, please...give me a chance.” You looked at him up and down and he’s never felt more terrified in his entire existence, he needed your hope, he could fix you.

“You don’t understand how much he hurt me.” You whispered completely vulnerable, “he went crazy, blew up a nation, and left me alone.”

He. Meaning Alivebur, Ghostbur was glad he was distinguishing the difference between the both of them. He didn’t remember doing that to you, after all, Ghostbur didn’t do that to you.

“I’ll never leave you alone. I can promise you that, with my whole heart I swear it.” He took your hands within his own, he knew you could barely feel his touch. You closed your eyes for a minute before reopening them,

“I’ll give you one chance. One. So help me god, if you ruin that chance I will never speak to you again. That’s a promise.”

Ghostbur swallowed thickly, nerves prickling at his entire being, “I won’t waste that chance, my dear.” You gave a stern nod and rubbed the back of your neck with a tired sigh,

“So...Friend?”

Ghostbur’s entire demeanor changed as he introduced you to the blue sheep that had taken a rather strong liking to him. The sheep nuzzled at your chest sniffing at your clothing choice, you hesitated a little before running your fingers through her wool.

“She’s very soft.”

“I know right!” he chimed wrapping his arms tight around his sheepy buddy, he buried his face in her wool. Ghostbur saw a weary smile spread across your face which made him smile back at you in return.

Maybe this could still work out for the both of you.

Months went by and you had set up residence outside of New L’manburg, everyone understood why you couldn’t make a permanent home out of the new country after everything that occurred there. In between watching over an exiled Tommy, Ghostbur would come by and visit you, even though you hated to admit it the ghost of your former lover had won you over. He was just so innocent so unlike the man who blew up his own country, so much like the goofball you had originally fallen in love with, you were enraptured. When New L’manburg blew up you weren’t surprised, there was a dull ache in your heart when you heard the news from a sobbing Ghostbur but you couldn’t feel sympathy. What you did feel sympathy about though was Phil’s uncaring attitude towards Friend, it was the first time you heard Ghostbur get legitimately angry.

It scared you more than you wanted to admit.

Even so, you confronted your former lover; he didn’t like sadness and tried to push the feeling away. You tried to comfort him the best way you could but he insisted he was fine opting to take his blue and forget his sadness. That was another thing, his quote on quote blue, it never did sit right with you. Hurt, sadness, and pain are hard emotions to face but they create character and depth and ultimately shouldn’t just be forgotten so easily, after all, how will you ever learn from your mistakes if you don’t experience sadness. Ghostbur didn’t want to hear your reasoning and still took towards using the blue, you eventually gave up trying to convince him otherwise.

You were sitting outside on your porch, rocking on your porch swing a cup of cocoa in your hand. Ghostbur was sitting beside you, head on your shoulder humming a soft tune to himself,

“Darling?”

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Ghostbur had asked so innocently it made your heart leap into your throat. Thoughts of Wilbur and his betrayal flashed across your mind, you wanted to scream and say no. That you’ll never let someone like that hurt you again, you were too strong, you opened your mouth but the hope in Ghostbur’s eyes made you close your mouth. This wasn’t the Wilbur you knew, this was Ghostbur, sure he was the ghost of Wilbur but they were so different. Ghostbur made you happy, he made you remember what it was like to be a good person, made you remember what it was like when you first met Wilbur. He made you smile and laugh, and he genuinely adored and cared for your happiness. You found yourself uttering a soft okay before your brain could comprehend your decision, the smile that lit up across Ghostbur’s face was illuminating. He floated over to you and cupped your cheeks, his pale hands were freezing, but it felt good against your scalding hot cheeks. Ghostbur’s eyes softened as he stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, he leaned forward and captured your lips in a soft kiss, the kiss was cold but not unpleasant. You felt him melt against you, and press desperately on to your lips, you couldn’t help but let out a little giggle you felt him pull away. He had the cutest pout on his pale lips,

“Don’t giggle at my kisses!” Ghostbur sounded so offended, you only laughed harder. “Stopppppppp,” he whined leaning against you dramatically.

“I’m sorry Ghostbur.” You covered your mouth with your hand, “You’re just too cute.”

You watched him freeze at your genuine compliment, a smile broke across his features,

“No, you’re cute!” Ghostbur cooed floating around you and wrapping his arms tight around your waist. You leaned into his touch with bright red cheeks,

“You’re a goofball,” You whispered softly, he nuzzled his face into your hair,

“I love you.” You froze in his arms and tensed up, reality crashing back onto all at once. Did you really kiss your dead lover's ghost? The lover who was a fucking asshole to you and blew up an entire country.

Not a girl boss moment.

“You don’t have to say it back,” Ghostbur was quick to add, “I know how hard this is for you. There’s no pressure with me my dear, I just want you to know how I feel.” He pressed the sweetest of kisses to the side of your head. Tears gathered in the corner of your eyes, not out of sadness, out of shock. You couldn’t believe Ghostbur was once Wilbur, the same man you yelled and screamed at you before his death, Ghostbur was wonderful. Ghostbur was kind and sweet, gentle and tender, one day you’d be ready to say you love him, just not yet, not when everything is so fresh.

“Thank you Ghostbur. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“Anything for you my dear.”

Months turned into years and you had officially fallen in love with your clingy ghost and his blue sheep. You knew he loved you to absolute bits, there were many occasions where Phil and Technoblade came up to you and begged you to get Ghostbur to stop gushing about you. You only turned red and smiled fondly, they scoffed but ruffled your hair, overall both were happy to see you smiling again. You hadn’t kept up with the dramas of the SMP, all your information was from Ghostbur, which happened to be not all that reliable.

You loved him but he was so naive, Tommy and Tubbo had defeated Dream, taken two of his cannon lives, and locked him in Sam’s prison. When Ghostbur told you a smile overtook your features, finally the bastard was getting what he deserved.

Isolation.

Tommy was growing closer with Ghostbur again too, which you couldn’t help but be happy about, he too deserved to heal from the trauma Wilbur had inflicted. You trusted Tommy, even when everyone else didn’t you tried to have his back and showed you he cared in his own weird way. Which mostly meant not stealing your shit, which you weren’t complaining about, today, however, he seemed tense. You both were walking the Prime Path on your way back to your abode, Tommy was loud and rambling, but they were different from his usual ramblings.

“Tommy?”

“What is it, women? I’m in the middle of my heroic story!”

“Are you alright?” You glanced at him out of the corner of your eyes and saw him go rigid. He cleared his throat shaking away his nerves,

“Fuck you talking about? Of course, I’m okay bitch. Don’t interrupt me again!” He scoffed nose high in the air, you narrowed your eyes and he shrunk under your gaze. “I just…” He rubbed the back of his neck, you thought about his resurrection and assumed it had something to do with that, your gaze drifted to the white streaks littering his hair.

“Hey...it’s okay. Just know I’m here for you,” You assured with a smile. You reached up to squeeze his shoulder, he looked shocked at the affectionate gesture,

“Obviously I know that! Don’t assume things bitch!” Tommy shouted shaking off your hand, you shook your head with a smile and let Tommy continue his story. If the young boy wanted to tell you, he would on his own terms. That night Ghostbur had come home absolutely shaking with excitement,

“Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo said we’re going on an adventure tonight!” Ghostbur was absolutely glowing, you couldn’t help but smile faintly at his antics.

“Don’t have too much fun.” You chastised teasingly, ghostbur giggled in delight as you pressed a kiss to his cold skin. “Stay safe, don’t let them bully you too much.”

“They don’t bully me,” he huffed but he leaned in for another kiss. Ghostbur had discovered he loved your kisses, even though they were probably cold to you all he felt was warmth. If he was a hybrid like his son his tail would be wagging, and if he was alive he’d be bright red. “I love you (y/n), of course, I’ll stay safe. I promised you I’d never leave you remember?”

You flushed and nodded, “I remember. I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Until then my dear!” He took your hand within his own and kissed the tops of your knuckles. You flushed pink and he sent you a cheeky grin,

“Get out of here loverboy! Don’t keep the children waiting!” You shouted as he floated out the door with a giant wave,

“I’ll be sending you kisses!”

“Ghostbur oh my god, go already!” You giggled with a fond roll of your eyes, he laughed loudly and floated out the door.

You should’ve told him you loved him. It’s okay, there would always be tomorrow.

You were getting ready for bed when Tubbo called you over the walkie-talkie, he was frantically apologizing and pleading for you to come to the crater that was L’manburg. Tommy then stole the walkie talking and started shouting about Ghostbur and your heart sink into your chest. He didn’t make a whole lot of sense but you put on a coat over your pajamas and ran in the direction of the once-prosperous nation. When you got there Tubbo and Tommy were a mess, Ranboo was trying to calm them down and Friend looked uncomfortable.

Where was Ghostbur?

You opened your mouth to call out to the boys when a pair of arms snuck around your waist. They were warm and real, pale hands caressed your abdomen,

“Hi, darling. Did you miss me?” Warm lips handed on your neck, “I missed you.”

Wilbur was back.

~~~ @blossom-702 @mayempress @thatguythatsshy

[faulty-writes]

I want, no NEED more of that sweet, sweet Monoma vs. Iida love triangle goodness! Headcanons, a scenario, something to satisfy this unexpected craving!!

Let's see what I can do about this. I was going to write headcanons but I guess my brain couldn't comprehend how to do that so I guess you could call this...a little classroom scenario. I'm not sure but enjoy it nonetheless.

It came as little surprise that Tenya and Neito felt something towards you, but you never imagined it turning into a battle to win your affection. But then again, while Yuuei mainly focused on hero training. There were situations where students were put in competitive positions.

Of course, these moments could also take place outside the designated training areas. "What's the matter dear class A? Oh, don't tell me you're threatened by a possible blooming friendship between myself and the lovely Y/n?" Neito stated as he proceeded to lay his hand on the small of your back and took it upon himself to cradle your hand in his free one.

A rather embarrassing position, especially knowing that your classmates were glaring at the display. But somehow Neito's taunting always seemed to strike every last one of your classmate's nerves and considering that the blond did it on purpose, their reactions were understandable. But even so, the president of class A, Tenya Iida while disliking this taunting as much as the rest of his fellow classmates was at least formal about expressing it.

Though you were almost surprised by his slightly defensive nature and how his shoulders squared when he approached Neito. "Pardon, but I do not believe you are in the correct classroom," he stated just before he tilted his head and adjusted his glasses by pushing them back to their proper position on the bridge of his nose.

You were a little impressed at how composed Tenya was even when it was obvious he wasn't the happiest at the moment. When he lifted his head back up and looked into Neito's eyes, it only seemed to bring a smirk to the blond's face. "Oh?" he replied, seemingly not taking Tenya's words seriously.

"Please release Y/n and be on your way," Tenya stated as he reached over and placed his hand on your shoulder. You could tell there was an urgency associated with his touch and through the way his fingers seemed to curl and tremble slightly. As if holding your shoulder was the only thing he could do to prevent himself from growing violent or punching Neito.

You decided to remain quiet, despite your rapid heartbeat and heated cheeks. Anyone in your position would react the same way. Essentially having three hands on you while frustrated tension filled the air. But you wondered if somehow Tenya felt threatened by Neito or the fact that Neito was taking your attention and time away.

The thick tension continued to grow into something more awkward, but that could be due to the silence that accompanied it. You didn't dare move, but you did glance between the two boys. Each one locked into some type of staring contest with the other and your fellow classmates seemed just as confused as you were as to what would happen next.

"Heh," Neito seemed to break the silence first and finally released you. However, in doing so he seemed to push you away from him a little too carelessly which caused you to stumble back. Despite relief filling you for a brief moment before you found yourself crashing into someone else.

"Ah!" you couldn't help but exclaim in surprise. However, such a feeling quickly faded when you realized it was only Tenya. Unlike Neito, Tenya seemed to carry a sweeter scent to him. Somewhat like lavender and though it was relaxing, you couldn't help but feel that same heat rush back to your cheeks.

Seemed any close contact you made with either of the boys resulted in this reaction. "Do not release them in such a manner! They could have been harmed due to your careless action!" Tenya scolded as he proceeded to chop his hand through the air. But once more, Neito seemed unphased and a soft laugh escaped him.

"Oh? Perhaps you're merely jealous that dear Y/n seemed to fall submissive to my touch," he shot back and you heard a struggled noise come from Tenya. Although it was almost amusing to see his dropped jaw and overall horrified expression.

"I...d-do not speak in such a manner! I do not hold any vulgar intentions when it comes to the matter of Y/n!" Tenya exclaimed and whether it was his intention or not. You felt his grip tighten on you, pulling you even closer. The fabric of Yuuei's signature gray blazer pressed against your cheek and that lavender aroma grew stronger.

"Oh, my apologies," Neito began as he pressed his hand against his chest. "I didn't think the members of class A could sink any lower when it comes to the matter of courageous acts," he stated. Implying nothing more than that Tenya was simply too afraid to act on his hormones which yet again seemed to throw the otherwise mature student off.

"I..." Tenya was usually never at a loss for words but it seemed somehow, Neito could actually best him. Yet again another smirk appeared on the blond's face and he took a step forward. "Hey, why don't you beat it and leave the prez alone!?" Kyoka spoke in Tenya's defense which seemed to prompt Kaminari and Eijiro to speak as well.

"Yeah, what's your problem man!?" Kaminari exclaimed before Eijiro spoke. "Seriously man, you have some issues. Leave Iida and Y/n alone!" his words came out with a slight growl which was somewhat surprising given Eijiro's carefree nature. "Now, now," Neito stated as he raised his hands up, almost acting innocent.

"Is class A really threatening a member of class B? How terrifying," his words were coated in sarcasm. You blinked, wanting to speak up but also not able to take your eyes off Neito who approached you with his hand stretched out. "Hm?" for a moment you looked surprised, but it appeared as though Neito wanted you to take the offered hand.

Tenya didn't seem so sure it was a good idea but he didn't fight when you stepped away from him. "I think dear Y/n is the only one of you I can actually stand," Neito stated when you finally laid your hand in his. He then leaned over and brought your hand up to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your knuckles which yet again seemed to upset Tenya.

But the fact Kaminari and Eijiro held him back went unnoticed by you. Though you did catch the way Neito's eyes glanced over your shoulder and how a satisfied expression sparkled in them. Then he lowered your hand and turned to walk away. "Goodbye class A," he said, once more using a mocking sort of tone before he looked at Tenya.

"Oh, and goodbye to you too...Iida," he said with a chuckle before finally exiting the room. You stood there slightly confused before your body was pulled back causing a gasp to escape involuntarily. This was followed by a grunt as you found yourself yet again pressed up against Tenya.

The only difference was this time he was grasping the wrist of the hand that Neito kissed. "Huh?" you blinked and tilted your head to look up at him. "...Iida?" your voice was soft before you watched him look down at you.

"Y/n," he stated, "May I escort you to the restroom?" he questioned and you could feel the way he slid his thumb along the pulsing veins of your wrist. "Huh?" you replied as you titled your own head in confusion. "What do you mean?" obviously you were confused by his request.

Especially because you didn't ask for him to escort you anywhere, let alone the bathroom. "I do believe it's best you wash your hand due to Monoma's contact with it," he replied and you couldn't help but look at Tenya with a now annoyed expression. However, his own expression didn't change.

Still, maybe the reason he wanted you to wash your hand was simply that he was jealous Neito had kissed it in the first place. You took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. "If it makes you feel better Iida...you can walk me there," you replied, though you couldn't help but fear this small rivalry of affection would interfere with your everyday school life.