#I know I haven’t given a reason for my parents to like the people I’ve dated but the one time I date a guy who is genuinely so kind

[skhardwarevers1]

does everything suck or is it just me being over dramatic

[kokoch4n3l]

ˏˋ main yahaan hoon ࿐ྂ "I'm in the lights of your eyes, you see me wherever you look"

summary: in which you meet Sano Manjiro a month before your wedding and fall in love. you didn't realize you fell in love with him till the pre-wedding rituals began.

pairing(s): bonten!mikey x desi!reader

notes: title translates to 'I'm here'. a purely self-indulgent fic based on Veer-Zaara(2004)'s song Main Yahaan Hoon if Veer was a gang leader and was actually at the wedding instead of Zaara hallucinating him. line dividers by rookthornesartistry heart divider by cafekitsune

warnings: infidelity, cheating, arranged marriages, implied emotionally absent parents, emotional blackmail, suggestive themes, implied oral(f), manjiro carries reader, slightly open ending

word count: 5690

Your father was a politician, businessman and just well very rich. You’re his only daughter so he spoils you rotten. Giving you all the things you can ever want. He was a good man, your mother a great person too. However, it wasn’t a very emotionally fulfilling relationship. You were okay with it though. Jewels and clothes sated the ache in your heart even if it was temporary. You got engaged almost as soon as you turned of age. The man was just a little bit older and also a politician like your father. Arranged marriages were common in your culture and you had never dated before anyway. It’s about a month before the wedding you meet Sano Manjiro. You aren’t sure what he does but he’s also really rich like your father. He has a few close business associates and they all have matching full moon hanafuda tattoos. Sanzu Haruchiyo let you trace his tattoo for some reason after seeing your fascination with it. 

Bonten were business associates of your father. You weren’t sure exactly for what but you also couldn't care less. They were all pretty fun people. You made them watch Bollywood movies with you and do a whole bunch of other things and they did it without any complaint and seemed to enjoy it as well. They were all cool and then there was Sano Manjiro… 

Sano Manjiro was different from the rest. He had a quiet intensity about him, a presence that demanded attention without a single word. You noticed his eyes first—dark, deep, and endlessly contemplative. He was always observing, absorbing everything around him with a sharp, discerning gaze. Despite his quiet demeanour, there was something undeniably magnetic about him. At first, you thought he wouldn’t be putting up with your childish games but he proved you wrong. When you called him a stupid idiot he didn’t get mad but instead, he smiled. He was amused. For some reason, it surprised you because he didn’t seem like the type to smile or just show any kind of emotion in general. 

Your father, of course, invites them all to your wedding. It was all fine but you don’t want to marry your fiancé. He was nice at first but there was something about him that put you off. You didn’t like that man. You sit in your father’s office in your engagement outfit while music echoes from the bottom floor of the mansion to the top. A white lengha with intricate embroidery adorns your figure with a full-sleeve blouse along with a diamond necklace gifted by your future mother-in-law and a matching tikka in the same style resting in the center of your forehead. Your dupatta is draped over your head and right now it feels too heavy. Although you and your fiancé were already engaged, your mother-in-law insisted on having a flashy ceremony to kick start the wedding week.  “You’re my only child… Hence, I’ve pampered you and given you freedom” Your father says, his hands clasped behind his back and using his businessman voice “I haven’t raised you like a girl but like a boy”

There is a lump in your throat. You know if you speak you’ll cry. Your father walks toward you. “Usually the mother has to explain to her daughters about her duties. But since I think of you as my son, I’ll explain your duties to you”

You look up at him. You’re sitting in his chair the same way you would when you were a child. But unlike back then, your bare feet press flat against the hardwood floor. “You already know that your grandfather was a respected politician. But he died a few days before he could attain success. Since that day, as his heir, I’ve been trying to take his party to great heights but I’ve been unsuccessful so far” He says and you know already what he will say next “But with the help of your finacé’s father, I can attain that success”

You don’t feel too good. The lump in your throat gets bigger and you desperately try to swallow it. Your father turns your back to you, staring at your family picture. “Soon you’ll get married into their family. It’s your duty…” He pauses and turns to look at you again “...to understand the importance of this relationship. Spread happiness, whether the times are good or bad and strengthen the bond of every relationship and to protect the honour of both families at all costs. A small mistake or a bit of carelessness from your end could ruin everything… I hope you understand what I’m trying to say.”

He knows, he knows, he knows. Your father had a feeling you no longer wished to marry the man you were betrothed to. You swallow the lump in your throat and whisper out a pitiful “yes.”

“Is there anything you wish to say?”

You simply shake your head no. You couldn’t. You had to marry this man even if you didn’t want to. Your father was practically begging you without actually begging. He smiles. “Come here”

You stand up, your anklets jingle with each step you take. “It’s been so long since I saw my daughter smile,” He says as you now stand in front of him “I hope you haven’t left it in Japan”

You smile weakly. How were you to tell him you did? How do you tell your father you left your heart in Japan? He pulls you in for a hug and a single tear runs down your cheek. 

You did not wish to marry the man you were promised to but you didn’t want to break your father’s heart either. 

Your father leads you down the large marble staircase, the railing covered with flowers and the entire bottom floor decorated lavishly. The vibrant colours and festive sounds of the pre-wedding celebration fill the air, yet your heart feels heavy with an unspoken sorrow. As you descend the staircase, your eyes scan the crowd, seeking a familiar face—a face that brought unexpected joy and confusion to your life. In the midst of the lively guests, you spot Sano Manjiro standing quietly at the edge of the room with his associates. He is dressed in beige slacks and a silk back button-up shirt, his presence commanding even in the bustling environment. His eyes meet yours, and for a brief moment, the noise around you fades. His gaze, deep and inscrutable, seems to reach into the very depths of your soul. The rituals proceed with the grandeur expected of such an event. The music, the dancing, the laughter—all blend into a blur as your mind drifts back to the times spent with Manjiro and his associates. The times when you could be yourself when you laughed genuinely and felt a connection beyond words. Sanzu Haruchiyo, always mischievous yet kind, had once teased you about your fascination with their tattoos. “Do you want one too?” he joked, letting you trace the lines of the intricate hanafuda design. 

You had laughed, but deep down, there was something about those moments that felt more real than anything else in your life. As you and your fiancé exchange rings, you feel Manjiro’s eyes on you, a silent support that gives you strength. The night progresses, and you find yourself stealing glances at him, your heart aching with an unspoken truth. You didn’t want this arranged marriage. You wanted something more, something that only he seemed to understand. 

It feels stupid though. It’s probably a simple infatuation but oh you had never felt this way in your life before and even as your fiancé slides the engagement ring onto your finger, the only thing that goes through your mind is Manjiro.

You sit alone in your room late at night on your bed, too lazy to sit at your dresser. Your dupatta was carelessly discarded at the foot of your bed as soon as you entered your room, too lazy to even remove your lengha and get in bed. The day had been tiring. You start to remove your jewelry, starting with the large diamond necklace that felt way too heavy. It’s as you are taking off the tikka from your forehead that someone enters. You don’t need to look up to know who it is. The air shifts, and the familiar, intense presence washes over you. It’s Manjiro. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, his voice soft, almost a whisper.

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. He steps closer, his movements silent on the plush carpet. He doesn’t say anything else, just stands there, watching as you fumble with the clasp of your tikka. Your fingers tremble, and the delicate piece slips from your grasp, falling onto your lap. “Let me,” he offers, reaching out. His hands are gentle but firm as he takes over, carefully removing the tikka and setting it aside. 

His touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you feel a warmth spreading through you, melting the anxiety and sorrow that had been weighing you down. “Thank you,” you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible.

He nods, his eyes never leaving yours. There’s a question in his gaze, an unspoken query that you can’t quite decipher. The silence between you is heavy with words left unsaid, emotions unacknowledged. “Why did you come here?” you ask, needing to break the silence, to understand why he’s here, why he makes you feel the way you do.

“I needed to see you,” he replies simply, his gaze steady. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

His concern touches you deeply, and you feel tears welling up in your eyes. You blink them back, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. Manjiro sits down next to you, being careful to not sit on your skirt. He reaches over and starts to remove your earrings. Despite his fingers being calloused and rough, his hands are gentle. He touches you like the slightest touch might break you. Each brush of his fingers against your skin feels like a promise, unspoken but powerful. You sit there, letting him help you, feeling a strange sense of peace settle over you. The weight of the day's events begins to lift, replaced by the warmth of his presence. When he's done, he sets the earrings aside and meets your gaze again. His eyes are filled with something you can't quite name, something that makes your heart beat faster. “Let’s get this off, hm?” Manjiro’s hand reaches around you and tugs the strings on the back of your blouse free

Your breath catches, but you nod, trusting him implicitly. The fabric loosens, and you feel the pressure on your chest easing. He helps you out of the heavy, ornate lengha, his movements were careful, his eyes never straying where they shouldn't. This was wrong. So wrong. You were a damn cheater. But as Manjiro unzips your blouse and pulls it off your arms, you can’t find yourself to care. “‘Jiro…” Your breath is shaky as he lowers your bare body down

“Don’t worry” he whispers, a heavy hand cupping your cheek so tenderly

Something in your head tells you it’s been years since this man was tender to anyone. Your breath hitches at the touch of his roughened palm against your cheek, a stark contrast to the softness in his gaze. Manjiro's thumb gently brushes away a stray tear that you hadn’t realized had fallen, his eyes holding a depth of understanding that seems to pierce through your very soul. "I shouldn't be here" you murmur, your voice barely audible, a mix of fear and yearning.

It was a little stupid you were even saying that since it was your own room. "But you want me here" he counters softly, not a question, but a statement of truth.

The words hang between you, heavy with unspoken emotions. Your heart beats wildly, torn between duty and desire. You don’t reply, unable to deny the truth in his statement. Manjiro’s presence is intoxicating, a dangerous allure that you find impossible to resist. He leans in, his breath warm against your skin. "Tell me to leave, and I will," he whispers, his lips so close to yours that you can feel the heat of his words. "But if you want me to stay…"

You close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. The choice is yours, and you know what your heart wants. "Stay" you breathe, barely more than a whisper, but enough for him to hear and without missing a beat he slides your engagement ring off your finger

Manjiro doesn’t take your virginity that night. Instead, he calls you a good girl for saving yourself for after marriage and then gets down between your legs and ravishes you. 

 The next morning was the Haldi ceremony. In the ceremony turmeric paste would be smeared on your face and oil on your hair. It was more of a fun kind of thing anyway and during all the weddings you have attended in the past, all the guests would end up getting the turmeric paste all over themselves while playing around with it. You were wearing a yellow salwar kameez with flowers embroidered on the top and your dupatta was bright pink. You sit on the ground by the pool while your cousins hold up a heavier more embroidered dupatta over top of you like shielding you from the sky. “Don’t put too much” You warn your dad as he smears some of the turmeric paste on your cheek

There is oil dripping down your forehead from when your cousin decided he wanted to be funny and poured the entire bowl on your head. Tumeric paste is smeared on your feet, arms, cheeks and nose. The vibrant colours of the ceremony blur together, a swirl of yellow and pink, laughter echoing around you. Yet, despite the cheerful chaos, your mind is elsewhere, drifting back to the previous night. Manjiro's touch lingers on your skin like a haunting melody, one you cannot shake off no matter how hard you try. Your father's laughter brings you back to the present, his smile wide as he steps aside for the next relative to apply the turmeric paste.

As the ceremony continues, you feel a pair of eyes on you. You glance up and catch a glimpse of Manjiro standing a little away from the festivities, his usual quiet intensity softened by a hint of something tender. He stands apart from his associates, watching you with an unreadable expression. For a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of you. The noise of the ceremony fades, replaced by the silent conversation happening between your gazes. Your heart beats faster as you remember his whispered promises from the night before. His words, his touch—they haunt you, make you question everything you thought you knew about your life and your impending marriage. You know it's reckless, dangerous even, to let yourself feel this way. But you can't help it. Not when his presence brings you a sense of peace and belonging you’ve never felt before. “This stuff smells weird” Koko comments as he crouches in front of you and smells the turmeric paste on his fingers before smearing it on your cheek “Are you sure this is safe for your skin?”

“Of course it is” you reassure with a smile

The rest of Bonten does the same. Finally, it’s Manjiro’s turn. He crouches down in front of you, an unknown emotion swirling in his eyes. Without a word, he takes the yellow paste and smears some on your right cheek then the left. His touch is gentle, yet it sends shivers down your spine, the same way it did the night before. The world around you seems to disappear as he smooths the paste over your skin, his eyes never leaving yours. The silence between you is filled with unspoken words, emotions too raw to be expressed in the midst of the celebration. Your heart pounds in your chest as his fingers linger on your skin, his touch both comforting and electrifying. "You look beautiful," he murmurs, his voice so low only you can hear. 

His words are simple, but the intensity behind them makes your breath hitch. "Thank you," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the noise of the celebration. 

You feel a blush creep up your cheeks, mixing with the turmeric paste. He offers you a small, almost shy smile, and for a moment, you see a vulnerability in him that he usually keeps hidden. You bring your hand up and smear the paste on his cheek too, making him laugh. His laughter is a rare sound, rich and deep, and it reverberates through you, filling your heart with warmth. You can't help but smile in response, your fingers lingering on his cheek for a moment longer than necessary. The world around you resumes its chaotic pace, but the connection between you and Manjiro remains, a silent promise amidst the noise and colour of the celebration.

As the Haldi ceremony continues, your mind is a whirlwind of emotions. The weight of your engagement ring, now conspicuously absent from your finger, feels like a liberation and a burden all at once. You glance at Manjiro again, finding comfort in his steady gaze. It’s as if he understands the turmoil within you without needing to ask.

As the ceremony comes to an end and the guests start to leave, you struggle to pick your dupatta off one of the chairs with your turmeric-covered hands. “Damn it” you mutter and look around for someone to help you

“Here you go” Rindo picks up your dupatta for you

You sigh in relief. “Thank you. Can you help me go up to my room?”

It was going to be a task going up to your room while covered in turmeric paste so you needed help. Rindo nods and offers you his arm, guiding you carefully through the crowd and up the stairs. The turmeric paste makes everything slippery, and you're grateful for his steady presence. As you make your way to your room, you can feel Manjiro's eyes on you, a silent promise of his support and understanding. Once inside your room, Rindo helps you sit on the edge of your bed, his touch careful and respectful. “Do you need anything else?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.

You shake your head, offering him a grateful smile, your eyes lingering for a moment of the front of his throat where the full moon hanafuda tattoo it etched then you look back up at his eyes. “No, thank you. I’ll manage from here.”

Rindo nods and leaves, closing the door softly behind him. You sit there for a moment, the events of the day and the night before swirling in your mind. You know you need to wash off the turmeric paste, but your thoughts keep drifting back to Manjiro. Eventually, you stand and make your way to the bathroom. The warm water washes away the turmeric, leaving your skin tingling and fresh. 

Later that night was the mendhi ceremony. Your hands are covered in intricate designs of flowers and swirls made with henna all the way up to your elbows and your feet with the same. “Ma~” you whine to your mother who was too busy talking to her sister to feed you 

Your mother laughs, a twinkle in her eye as she waves you off, engrossed in her conversation. You sigh, looking at the plate of food in front of you, and then at your hands, which are still wet with henna. The intricate designs are beautiful, but they make it impossible for you to eat on your own. You glance around the room, hoping to find someone to help you. Your eyes meet Manjiro’s from across the room. He’s standing with his associates, but his gaze is fixed on you, a soft, knowing smile playing on his lips. Before you can beckon him over, he starts to walk towards you, effortlessly weaving through the crowd. He kneels down next to you, his presence a comforting weight. “Need some help?” he asks, his voice low and warm.

You nod, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “Yes, please. I can’t eat with this on.”

Manjiro picks up the spoon and gently lifts a small portion of food to your lips. His movements are careful, and deliberate, as if this simple act holds profound significance. You open your mouth, feeling a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. As he feeds you, you catch the subtle smirk on his face, and you can't help but smile back. “This is quite the look for you,” he teases, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Covered in henna and unable to eat by yourself.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, your voice playful. “This is supposed to be a special time, you know?”

“It is,” he agrees, his tone softening. “And you look beautiful.”

The sincerity in his words makes your heart skip a beat. You chew and swallow, the taste of the food mingling with the warmth spreading through your chest. Manjiro continues to feed you, the moment intimate despite the bustling celebration around you. Each spoonful feels like a silent promise, a shared secret that binds you closer together. “Food is spicy…” He murmurs 

“You don’t like spicy food?” you ask him

He shakes his head no. “I like the sweets though… After you get married bring me some in Japan?” You laugh softly, the sound mingling with the music and chatter in the room. “Of course,” you promise, a warmth spreading through you at the thought of sharing such a simple pleasure with him. “I’ll bring you all the sweets you want.”

Manjiro's smile widens, a rare glimpse of genuine happiness on his usually stoic face. “I’ll hold you to that,” he replies, his gaze steady on yours. “But only if you promise to come back soon.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and you find yourself nodding before you can even think. “I promise,” you say, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

The rest of the mendhi ceremony passes in a blur of laughter and music, but the memory of that moment with Manjiro lingers, a silent promise of things to come. As the night draws to a close, you find yourself reluctant to leave his side, the bond between you growing stronger with each passing moment. 

It’s as you lay in bed and stare at your henna-stained hands, searching for your fiancé’s name among the intricate designs. But as you scan the patterns, your heart sinks, and a furrow forms on your brow. The once-clear inscription has been smeared beyond recognition, lost amidst the swirls of henna. A mix of emotions washes over you—relief, guilt, and a pang of sadness. Relief because it feels like a sign, a small reprieve from the impending marriage you’re dreading. Guilt because you know you shouldn’t feel relieved, and shouldn’t be hoping for a way out of a commitment you made. And sadness because despite everything, there’s a part of you that still longs for the simplicity of what could have been. You trace the faint outlines of the henna design, your mind swirling with conflicting thoughts and emotions.

The bond between you and Manjiro grows stronger with each passing moment, a silent promise of a future you never dared to imagine. But the reality of your situation weighs heavily on your shoulders, reminding you of the duty and obligations that bind you to your fiancé and your family.

With a heavy sigh, you curl your fingers into fists. The events of the day replay in your mind—the stolen moments with Manjiro, the whispered promises, the shared laughter. Despite the uncertainty of the future, one thing is clear—you’re falling for him, and there’s no turning back.

The next night is the ladies' sangeet. It’s the last thing left and the next morning is the wedding. You sit with all your female relatives as they sing and dance to old folk songs. You sit among them, a forced smile plastered on your face, your mind drifting to thoughts of the impending wedding. Tomorrow, you'll be bound to a man you don't love, forced into a life of duty and obligation that feels suffocating. When no one is looking, you stand up and hed to the backyard where most your male relatives are, drinking away as usual. You can see Ran has unfortunately been cornered by one of your drunk uncles and is explaining Punjabi politics to him. Ran looks at you for help but you just grin and shake your head. You spot Manjiro walking over to you and you smile at him. “Hi” You say as you walk through the garden together, you anklets jingling with each step you take. 

"Hi," Manjiro replies, his voice low and warm, a stark contrast to the chaos of the sangeet unfolding behind you. His presence brings a sense of calm, a welcome respite from the suffocating atmosphere of obligation and expectation.

You walk through the garden together, the soft glow of lanterns casting a warm light over the flowers and foliage. The air is filled with the sweet scent of jasmine and roses, a stark contrast to the heavy perfume of the crowded hall. You feel a weight lift off your shoulders with each step, the knot of anxiety in your chest slowly unravelling in his presence. "Having fun?" Manjiro asks, his gaze steady on yours. 

There’s a hint of amusement in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the absurdity of the situation. You shake your head, a wry smile playing on your lips. "Not exactly," you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. "I feel like I'm suffocating in there."

Manjiro nods in understanding, his expression sympathetic. "I can imagine," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper “Japanese weddings are not this… festive or colourful. Must be a little overwhelming” 

You nod, grateful for his understanding. "It's not just that," you confess, your voice tinged with frustration. "It's the weight of expectation, the pressure to conform to tradition and duty." You pause, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. "I feel like I'm being suffocated by it all."

Manjiro listens in silence, his gaze unwavering as he takes in your words. There's a depth to his understanding, a sense of empathy that makes you feel seen in a way you haven't felt in a long time. "I know what it's like to feel trapped," he says finally, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "To feel like you're living a life that's not your own."

His words strike a chord within you, resonating with the turmoil you've been feeling. "Do you ever wish things were different?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Manjiro's gaze softens, a hint of something tender in his eyes. "All the time," he admits, his voice filled with honesty and you watch his hand come up to touch the full moon hanafuda tattoo on the back of his neck "But sometimes, we have to make the best of the hand we're dealt." 

You nod in understanding, a pang of sympathy tugging at your heart as you take in the vulnerability in Manjiro's words. His admission resonates with your own feelings of frustration and longing, the desire for a life beyond the confines of duty and expectation. "But that doesn't mean we have to give up hope," you say softly "We can still fight for what we want, for the freedom to live our lives on our own terms."

Manjiro's gaze meets yours, a flicker of something akin to hope dancing in his eyes. "And what do you want?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper, as if afraid to voice the question aloud.

You hesitate for a moment, the weight of your desires heavy on your shoulders. “I… I don’t know yet”

And Manjiro simply smiles at your answer and says “well clock is ticking… better hurry up and figure it out” then turns to go back to where he was sitting with your father, other business partners and relatives 

As Manjiro walks away, leaving you alone in the tranquil garden, his words linger in the air, a gentle reminder of the urgency of your situation. The weight of expectation and duty presses down on you once more. You watch Manjiro's retreating figure, his silhouette illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns, and you can't help but feel a sense of longing stirring within you. Despite the uncertainty of the future, one thing is clear—your heart is leading you towards him, towards a life of freedom and possibility.

You turn back towards the bustling sangeet, the music and laughter spilling out into the night air. Tomorrow is the wedding, the final culmination of weeks of preparation and anticipation. But as you rejoin the festivities, your mind is elsewhere, filled with thoughts of the man who has captured your heart and the future that awaits.

As the night wears on and the sangeet draws to a close, you find yourself lost in a whirlwind of emotions—excitement, apprehension, and a simmering sense of rebellion— something you shouldn’t be feeling. Tomorrow, you'll be bound to a man you don't love, forced into a life of duty and obligation. But tonight, in the quiet solitude of the garden, you allow yourself to dream of a different future, one where you're free to follow your heart, no matter where it leads.

As the first light of dawn breaks over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the garden, you feel a sense of anticipation stirring within you. In a few hours, you’ll be married. It’s scary. So scary and you feel sick. You sit in a yellow kameez and white salwar, fingers trembling as you put on the naath, hooking it to your nose and fixing the chain over your ear to see how you look in it. The cool metal of the jewellery rests over your lips that you’ve bitten raw. Your makeup lays untouched, face bare. You need to start getting ready. 

It’s the early hours of the morning, not many are awake except the servants who are getting the house ready. Your deep red wedding lengha is draped over your bed and seems to be mocking you. Your fingers linger on the intricate embroidery of the deep red lehenga, but the touch brings you no joy, only a sense of resignation. As you stare at your reflection in the mirror, the naath adorning your face, you can't help but feel a sense of disconnect. The woman staring back at you seems like a stranger, a mere shell of the person you once were. The weight of the impending marriage hangs heavy in the air, suffocating you with its inevitability. It’s suffocating, and overwhelming, and you find it hard to breathe.

But then, amidst the chaos of your thoughts, a sense of determination takes root within you. You refuse to let fear dictate your future, to surrender to the expectations of others. You may not know what lies ahead, but you know one thing for certain—you can't go through with this marriage. Your father may love you and only want the best for you but you are not a pawn in his plan to rule the world. 

Gathering your courage, you make a decision—to follow your heart, no matter the consequences. It won't be easy, and there will be challenges ahead, but you refuse to let fear hold you back any longer.

As you slip out of your room after grabbing your yellow dupatta, the quiet of the early morning enveloping you like a comforting embrace, you feel a sense of liberation wash over you. It’s just as you make it past the hall, your anklets unfortunately still jingling with each step(you probably should have taken them off), you come face to face with Manjiro, Sanzu and Rindo. “Hm? And where do you think you’re going?” Manjiro asks and his hand comes up and lifts the naath up then lets it fall back in place resting over your upper lip 

You freeze, caught off guard by the unexpected encounter. For a moment, you're at a loss for words, your mind racing to come up with an explanation. But as you meet Manjiro's gaze, you see something in his eyes—a flicker of understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the turmoil raging within you. "I..." you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "I don’t want to get married"

The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of your confession. You expect judgment, condemnation, but instead, there's only silence. Manjiro's gaze softens, a hint of something tender in his eyes as he reaches out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face. “Hm?”

You let out a shaky breath, henna-covered hands clenching at your sides. “You asked me last night what I wanted and this is what I want…”

There is a moment of silence. Manjiro looks back at Sanzu and nods and the latter pulls out his phone, frantically typing away texts. “C’mon then” Manjiro says and sweeps you off your feet in the same way the male leads in Bollywood movies would

You aren’t sure how things will turn out but as Manjiro carries you down the marble staircase and into a car, you don’t think about anything else. Just him. Manjiro’s arms feel solid and reassuring around you as he carries you down the marble staircase, the weight of your decision becoming lighter with each step. The early morning light filters through the windows, casting a golden hue over everything, as if the world itself is blessing your choice.

As he sets you down into the backseat of a car Manjiro brushes a strand of your hair away from your face then kisses your forehead. “I’m here” he whispers

end notes: at the end, when Sanzu is on his phone, he's texting Koko to post a bunch of evidence of corruption that reader's fiancé’s family has done. Now MIkey could have done that before but he wanted it to be reader's choice so.... yeah. Hope you enjoyed it loll.

[starlight-eclipsed]

DPXDC Social Media AU

Fic below!

The video started, the camera focusing on the scene before it. A teenager’s bedroom was shown, decorated with posters of space and model rockets. It was deceptively normal, had it not been for fans pointing out that they weren’t labeled LexCorp, Wayne, or any of the other leading names in aerospace.

“Hey everyone!” The teen in question greeted, smiling at the camera as he waved. “Danny here! Sorry for the radio silence—two of my rogues decided to do a collaboration and kidnapped a bunch of people. My parents grounded me and took all my video games since I kinda trashed a bunch of their equipment saving them, so I finally had enough time to record this. Again, grabbing a smartphone from you guys’ dimension was absolutely the right call. Looking forward to when the ones here will get to that level and I can use mine in public.”

Sitting back in his seat, Danny waved his hands. Papers from around the room were pulled up in the air, showing a variety of news clippings, report cards, and event flyers from the last year. “Sweet, that worked! I know it’s been a year, but I’m still getting used to these powers. Anyway, today’s topic is: secret identities! Specifically how much they can suck sometimes.”

The papers drop as he spins in his chair and folds his arms.

“Okay, so I’m gonna start this by saying I only speak for myself. Your dimension has a ton of other heroes who have all kinds of perspectives on this kind of thing. It’s also not an invitation to start harassing your friends and coworkers if they pull any stunts like the ones I’m gonna talk about. Some people are just flaky, some have other things in their life going on that they don’t want to talk to you about. In the extremely unlikely chance that you’re right and the friend who keeps bailing on you is a vigilante, you should leave that shit alone. No matter how justified you are in getting upset that they don’t have the time for you, trying to expose them can kill not only them, but everyone they want to protect. Don’t do it.”

Clapping his hands Danny tilts his head to listen for something before continuing. “With that out of the way and my whole family leaving the house, let’s get to it. Going ghost!”

A flash of light marks the transformation, revealing Phantom at the end. He adjusts the camera so that he remains in frame as he now floats in his room.

“So if you’re new here, let me run through the basics. When I was fourteen, I died and came back wrong. No, I won’t go into the details—I don’t need any of you getting any ideas. I can appear as human, so me and my two best friends decided to keep it a secret from my parents, who are ghost hunters. The current arrangement is that I go out as Phantom to fight off aggressive ghosts when they attack, and the rest of time I try to lead a somewhat abnormal civilian life.”

“Onto the topic. Now, the main reason people keep their identity secret is so that their enemies can’t use it to hurt them. I…sorta do that? I mean I’d be in a lot of trouble if ghost hunters figured me out, and the government here kinda revoked my human rights so there’s that. But there’s no hiding from other ghosts. Not when we can sense each other. I’m just lucky for the anti-ghost hunter solidarity, it’s probably the only reason my rogues haven’t revealed my human identity to the world.”

He shivered dramatically.

“So, humans. People. Being a superpowered vigilante is all fun and games except when an attack happens during class. I don’t even ask to go to the bathroom anymore, the teachers gave up on stopping me,” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Don’t get me started on how many times I’ve gotten grounded or given extra detentions because I was busy stopping someone from torching a building or possessing someone to ruin their life in creative ways. I can’t just tell them why I wasn’t there, so I either have to act like an idiot who forgot that I have classes to attend or pretend like I was skipping on purpose. Which I was, but not like that, ya know?”

“Another thing! My grades have completely tanked. I used to be a straight A student, I needed to be if I wanted to be an astronaut. But no, I had to go and get myself killed, and now my biology is all messed up so I can’t even qualify for the physical if my grades were good enough. Which they aren’t, because now I spend most of my time brawling whatever ghost of the day. And like, sure. I could do my homework and study in the rest of the time I have that’s not spent sleeping. But that’s exhausting, and honestly I’d rather take the F than spend all my time working.”

He sighed, slumping down a bit in his chair.

“It just sucks. My sister is setting records on her exams, and I’m a few pity-grades away from being held back a year. At least now I can handle most of the regulars by myself, so I’m not dragging my friends down with me. They deserve better.”

Danny opened his mouth to continue, but was cut off by mist escaping his lungs. He groaned, using his telekinesis to put his room back in order (notably cramming his graded assignments behind his dresser) and reaching for the camera.

“That’s my cue. Here’s hoping I can handle whoever’s out there fast enough so I have time to get started on my book report. Over and out.”

The video ended there. For many, that would be the last they’d hear of what was speculated to be the best performance-style LARP series for a while. Fans would start analyzing the footage not in the comments section, which was disabled, but in a separate online forum.

However, there was one place, albeit less well known, that one Danny Phantom would respond in.

———

Anonymous said

its good to see yuo posting again, but you looked really stressed. are you ok?

phantompaining

lol no

—

metwise said

I completely agree with you on your recent video. Vigilante work is hard; I was lucky when I started out, and I still nearly died many times over. Don’t let your grades get to you, if your school system is anything like this world’s equivalent then it is based heavily on busywork. Next time you’re visiting this world, try looking into online schooling. There should be free resources online you can download and follow along at your own pace to supplement the classes you miss. So long as you score well on tests, you can make up for the homework grades.

phantompaining

oh ill have to look into that, sounds neat. not sure if ill get around to actually studying any of it, but its better than nothing. i cant wait for my earth to catch up with yours, online school sounds so much better

gottabeoakin

Ayo is that Red Robin? Why tf is he takin some kids larp so seriously

implusivefruit

bold words from the deathnote rp acc

—

phantompaining

shoutout to my rogues, who beat the shit out of me, dropped some new ghost lore, then backed me up in fighting an army of the undead

also mech suits hurt like hell how does skulker do it

beetletakethewheel

Mech suits shouldn’t hurt??

phantompaining

my parents’ one runs on lifeforce

anyway if i had a dollar for every time i woke up somewhere i didn’t pass out in these last few days i’d have enough money to buy a burger

killmetwise 

How much do your burgers cost

phantompaining

(:

—

phantompaining

when the hell did so many supers start following me where are you people coming from

superttk

‘why r there so many heroes’ says the hero on the hero site

01101001-01100011-01110101

its like the only anonymous platform left that doesnt suck

totallynotharleyquinn

Free entertainment <3

phantompaining

ok fair

phantompaining

wait a second

—

coalminesinger said

Hello Phantom! I just wanted to check in on you after your last few posts. Did you enjoy your weekend off?

phantompaining

nope lol, technus escaped and I used one of my parents inventions to split myself to try and relax while handling the ghost issue and just made more work for myself

metwise 

#on the plus side my house is now on the beach #just in time for summer

You live in the middle of town???

phantompaining

yea putting it back is gonna be a pain

—

phantompaining

ok this is gonna be a heavy one folks. like arkham asylum levels of shit. i just spent the last week with my family convinced i was going insane, and i need to vent

:readmore:

discowinginginging

That really really sucks, and I’m so sorry you had to go through that.

I went through a similar experience (only I was under the influence of a hallucinogenic drug that made me see, hear, and feel the villain in question, who wasn’t actually there). I was lucky enough to be on a team with someone who could read my mind and figure out what was happening, but if you can’t do that the next best thing is figuring out code words with anyone in the know. Obviously it’s not perfect, but some kind of word indicating that you feel like something is very wrong could save you a lot of trouble.

More under the cut.

:readmore:

phantompaining

…that could work? ill have to talk to my friends about it, but it sounds good

#thanks #still cant believe so many of yall are following this

[andwordsarefutiledevicess]

okay, one thing i haven’t been able to stop thinking about since seeing challengers is the question of art and patrick’s family situations/upbringings. so, here’s my fat ass analysis of the topic.

we know that patrick’s family is rich, and they’re likely wealthier than art’s family because art makes the comment about the size of patrick’s house when they leave the party.

this also means that art has visited patrick’s house outside of their time in boarding school.

as many other people have pointed out, art is the only character to pronounce zweig correctly, as is spoken to in german by his coach, implying he has at least some proficiency in the language.

while art could have learned it from someone else or for other reasons, it does seem most likely that he learned it because of patrick or from patrick’s family, as that is the only established connection to germany he has in the film.

if this is true, and art understands german because patrick’s family speaks german, this means that patrick’s parents most likely emigrated from germany to the u.s., since it’s less common for native languages to be spoken after the second generation. at the very least his grandparents are likely from germany.

i did find it odd that we’re not given much of an idea as to why patrick’s family isn’t helping him financially when he struggles in the 2010s. if he’s this rich kid sent to boarding school, why isn’t he just living off some trust fund? he was clearly cut off, but the question is why.

i think the most likely reason is that they got sick of his immaturity — he wasn’t winning challenges, and was living this party boy lifestyle, and they stopped funding it. another possibility is that they became aware that he was dating men, which we know from seeing his tinder. or the combo of these factors led to him because estranged, or simply not willing to tell them about his situation.

so — patrick’s family = rich, large house, parents from germany, potentially estranged, financially cut off

now for the question of art’s family. i’ve seen plenty of people headcanon that art was raised by his grandma, but i don’t entirely buy into this.

i think if art was exclusively raised by his grandma (and his parents were unable to/not alive) this would have been too significant of a bit of character info to omit.

so, i think it’s more likely that his grandma is a recurring topic in the movie because she’s the only family member who cares truly deeply for art. while no parents or siblings are mentioned (to my memory), she is.

as said before, it’s heavily implied that patrick’s family is more wealthy than art’s. at the same time, art’s family was still able to afford to send their kid to boarding school, and there’s no reason to believe he was on scholarship. so art’s family was likely solidly upper middle class, but not rich like patrick’s.

so — art’s family = upper middle class, closest with grandma, minimal support as adult

ANYWAYS that was my massive ramble. can yall tell im procrastinating actual work?

[morganski-19]

I Don't Know Which Way's Home

Chapter 19: Nightmares

ao3 link, Part 1, Part 18

tw: minor descriptions of physical assault, PTSD panic attack, car crashes, and emetophobia (very minor description)

Present Day, June 1986

It’s been three weeks since the court ruled in Steve’s favor, and he still doesn’t quite believe it. Doesn’t believe it when his lawyer calls to tell him that the payment will be coming to him soon. Doesn’t believe it when that money gets transferred to him. When he pays his lawyer and it’s all over.

Steve doesn’t have to fight with them anymore. Have to think about them anymore. They have absolutely no power over him whatsoever.

He doesn’t know what to do with that really.

All his life, he’s been playing the part designed for him. Done what other people wanted, doing things for himself later. In secret. Now that most of it was out, the pressure gone, he doesn’t know what to do anymore.

Steve gets up to go to a job that he didn’t want in the first place. Really only got because his dad wanted him to get a part time job as punishment for not getting into college. Following Robin after the mall blew up. It was all just stops on a train that he was given the ticket to.

Now he switched trains on his own accord. Went in a different direction. One that he chose because he wanted it. Sounded like a life he wanted to live. Sounded like there were other passengers on the train that might get off at the same destination. Want to spend time with him as they traveled. Get to know him. Maybe even love him.

And that’s what happened. He still doesn’t know how, or why. What to do with it. But he’s learning to.

If anyone were to ask him what he was going to do with this life he has now, with the winnings, he wouldn’t know. He doesn’t know what he wants to do tomorrow let alone in the next five years. The picture he has in his head looks the same as it is now. Happy with everyone he loves around him, looking exactly the same.

But that’s not what’s going to happen.

The kids are going to grow up, change, go off to school. Julie will too, leaving his house empty again. Robin will eventually go to a school that can give her more than a community college can. People in the town will continue to outgrow it.

While Steve continues to stay in the same spot forever. Rooted in the same place that hurt him so much. The same place that helped him grow into someone he’s actually proud of. Showed him the life he could have if he was just brave enough to go and catch it.

Now that he has it, it’s all he’s ever wanted. He’s not ready to let it go quite yet.

“Do you think you could teach me how to drive?” Julie asks Steve over dinner.

Steve freezes in shock, head shooting up to look at her. “Yeah, sure, I guess.”

He’s known her less than a year but the question still makes him feel so old. Feeling like he watched her grow up as she went through so many changes. So many emotions. Slowly formed into the person she is now right in front of him.

“Cool.” Julie says, going back to her dinner.

Steve wonders how long she’s been wanting to learn how to drive. She’s been able to for over a year now, just never got around to it. With the nature of her mother’s accident, he wasn’t sure when she would want to ever learn. If she would want to.

“Is there a reason you wanted to learn?” He asks, trying to sound nonchalant.

Julie shrugs. “Just haven’t yet. And I’ve been thinking about maybe getting a part time job, saving to try and get a car of my own before I go to college. I know it’s still a year away, but cars are expensive and minimum wage is shit.”

College. Something he knew was coming but was hoping it could be a little farther away. He wonders if this is how every parent feels. Wishing their kid would just stay in one place for a little while longer and stop growing. Stop changing. So they don’t have to change with them.

He’s not a parent. Not yet, and not for a long while. But he can’t help but feel some sort of protective instinct over these kids that changed his life. Want to look out for them in every situation, make sure that nothing ever hurts them. He knows that’s not how life is supposed to go. Kids are supposed to make mistakes and learn from them. That’s the way it went for him, so it’s the way it will go for them.

He just didn’t want it to.

“I don’t know why you’re so worked up about this,” Robin comments while unboxing the newest releases. “We all knew this day would come someday.”

Steve sighs, leaning on the door of the stock room. “I just wanted that someday to take longer to actually get here. It’s like the last few years went by so fast and got so muddled in my mind that I forgot time kept moving.”

“I get that. But,” she places the last tape on the cart and turns to him, “just because the kids are getting older, doesn’t mean that they’re leaving.”

They are in a way, though. Even though he knows that won’t be permanent. That they won’t forget about him the way other people have, it still makes the anxiety trapped in his chest start to rise. The instinct to hold on tight and never let go so much stronger.

“This town is too small for them. We both know that. They are going to go do amazing things, while I’m still here doing the same mediocre things I always do.” He holds the door open for her as she rolls the cart through.

“Have you ever thought about doing other things?”

Steve pauses in front of the cart, making Robin run into him. “What?”

“You’re acting like you can’t do other things. If you hate what you’re doing right now, try something different. No one’s forcing you to do the same thing you were doing yesterday.”

She pivots the cart to move around him, leaving him with thoughts he’s honestly been scared to think about.

Steve’s made a routine for himself. Go to work, pick up the kids, drive them around, go home. Live a life that he enjoys and work a job that he kind of hates. Follow his best friend wherever she goes because he’ll love whatever it is.

Was it what he thought he’d be doing with his life, no. Is it something he wanted to do the rest of his life? He doesn’t want to answer that question. The rest of his life was uncertain for the longest time. Each year testing the strength of his body and his mind. Making it feel like tomorrow was some bright future he may never get to see.

It was easy to get so stuck in the present when the future seemed like it would never come. Now that it is, Steve is scared to figure out what it is. What it means for him.  

“Look,” Robin continues, knowing exactly how he’s feeling. “I’m not saying you have to pick what you want to do right now. Or tomorrow, or the day after that. I’m just saying that if you really hate doing this,” she waves towards the shelves, “then you can start thinking about what you would want to do instead. There is still so much time for you to figure it all out.”

Time is something Steve’s learning how to deal with. But Robin’s right. Maybe it’s finally the right moment to think about what he can do with it.

. . .

“That is so exciting,” El exclaims when Julie tells her that Steve is going to teach her how to drive. “You will be the first one of us to learn how to drive.”

“Well, that’s actually Max,” Lucas corrects. “She learned how to drive a while ago.”

“Yeah poorly,” Mike adds. “And only in a parking lot.”

Max rolls her eyes. “I drove in the street that one time.”

“And almost got us killed.”

“Scared Steve shitless.” Dustin laughs.

“Scared all of us shitless.”

“Not me,” Lucas defends. I wasn’t scared.”

Dustin snorts. “So that wasn’t your high-pitched scream then?”

Lucas kicks him under the table.

El turns to Max. “When did you drive?”

Max motions for El to get closer and whispers it into her ear. Just another reminder that Julie has no idea what they are talking about. Another inside joke that she’ll never understand. El takes a second to be shocked before bursting out into giggles.

When the bell rings, Max stops Julie before she can walk away. “Hey, could you help me bring my stuff to my next class. El has a test today so she can’t do it.”

Julie shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”

She picks up Max’s backpack and carries it in front of her. Following after Max as she yells at the groups of seniors who like to stand in the hallway and block everyone’s path.

“So, you and El have gotten pretty close, yeah?” Max asks way too casually than she should for such a loaded question. And in the middle of the hallway.

“I mean we’re friends, right,” Julie tries to play it cool. Especially since to El, this is all they are.

Max stops, turning her chair to Julie and giving her a look that tell her to cut the shit. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I don’t really want to talk about this here.”

She barely wants to talk about it at all. The hatred for herself slowly turning into guilt that churns her stomach each time she looks at El. Knowing that she’s feeling something that she shouldn’t. Almost asking El for something that she can’t give. Wishing that this feeling could go away and they could just go back to being normal friends. Without all this complicated shit.

“That’s fair.” Max resumes rolling down the hallway, stopping in front of her classroom and reaching out to take the bag from Julie. “Your house after school then?”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Julie wishes she would.

“El’s my best friend. Of course I’m not.”

The school day ends, and they go over to her house. She sits next to Max in her room like it’s some interrogation. Waiting for her to be the first to speak. Not wanting to share too much too fast.

“You know, El’s probably going to be pissed when she figures out that we hung out without her,” Max finally breaks the silence.

Julie huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, probably.”

The thing about actually having a crush, Julie realizes, is that it’s so special to have one. Like a little secret that she and only a few other people know. This special little feeling that, at the end of the day, brings her so much joy to have. Even though it’s terrifying. It’s a good terrifying.

“I was really happy when El became friends with you so fast,” Max continues. “I love the guys, but she needed someone else who knew how to take it down a notch. Someone calmer. Someone like you.”

Her lips can’t help but turn into a soft smile. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Max nods. “I think we all needed that too. Life has been crazy the last few years and it’s been nice to have someone to remind us that life doesn’t always have to be tied to that. Especially for El.”

“What do you mean?”

Max takes a deep breath, shifting the pillow behind her. “There’s a lot that I can’t tell you, and there’s stuff that I don’t even really know. None of us do. She wouldn’t tell us all of it. But you know how El is adopted right?”

Julie nods.

“I, uh, don’t know how much of this she wanted me to tell you. Just that she didn’t want to do it herself so bear with me here. Before she was adopted, El was in a really bad home. If that’s what you could even call it. And a lot of really terrible things happened there that none of us like to talk about. She escaped from there one night and eventually got adopted by Hopper.”

Julie remembers that night she stayed at the Byers after they got kicked out of the house. How she told El about the fourth of July when the mall burnt down, and she saw all those people walking to their death. The face El made after she said it. Looking determined as all hell and older than she needed to be. Like a switch in her mind flipped and she was a totally different person than Julie knew her to be.

How horrible her life must have been to take the joy out of her face so fast. To turn defense mode on in a way that made her look like a soldier.

“That’s terrible,” are the only words Julie can think to say.

Max nods, looking down at her hands. “Yeah, it is. This is the same place, same people, that are responsible for a lot of the bad things that happened in this town. They worked at the Hawkins lab.”

“Shit,” Julie sighs, leaning back against her wall.

“Yeah, shit.”

The room fills with silence.

“Why are you telling me all of this now?”

“Because I’ve never seen El open up to a person as fast as she has with you. It took a long time for her to open up to me, and sure there were other things in the way that stopped that, but I’m talking right as we became friends. We were close, but not you guys close.”

Julie can’t imagine Max and El being different from the way they are now. The soft interactions full of a trust that looked so natural. Like they had been friends for a lifetime, fully comfortable around one another.

“And I’m starting to notice, and please tell me if this is out of line, that you might be thinking about El differently than I think about El.”

Julie wonders if this is the time where it isn’t taken well. That someone tells her that this is the worst thing that she could do. Having a crush on a friend could break relationships. She didn’t want to break this one.

“I do,” she finally says to Max. Ready for the berating to start.

Instead, Max nods with resignation. “I think El does too.”

The room starts to buzz as Julie’s heart starts to pick up. “What?”

“She hasn’t, like, told me anything. And she’s probably going to hate me for telling you this at all. But I want to protect her and protect you too and this weird waiting period is really awkward for me, and I’d rather just get to the point where I’m third wheeling.”

“I’m sorry,” Julie interrupts her, still trying to wrap her head around the idea that there’s a possibility that El might like her back. “You think El likes me?”

Max raises her eyebrow. “Have you seen the way she’s been acting around you? Complimenting you every day, clipping your hair back, giggling at literally every joke you say. No offense but that’s a little excessive, your jokes aren’t always that funny.”

Moments start to replay in Julie’s mind. Having been so focused on the way she’s been acting, that she didn’t even notice the way El’s behavior around her changed. How she interacted with Julie just different enough from the rest of the group for it to be significant. For it to be special.

She remembers shrinking in on herself when she knew El was looking at her for longer than she should. Thinking that it was because Julie was making her feel uncomfortable. Never because she could have been doing the same thing Julie has been doing this whole time. Admiring in secret.

“I didn’t notice.”

Max groans. “Of course you didn’t. Neither of you did. It’s like Will and Mike not realizing that they’re into each other. Do you know how frustrating it is to know that your friends like each other but they’re too stupid to do anything about it.”

“Oh my god, you noticed the Will and Mike thing too, I thought that was just me.”

“Don’t try and change the subject. You like El, and I think El likes you. What are you going to do about it?”

Julie winces. “Is nothing an option?”

Max grabs Julie’s arm. “You are driving me crazy. Ask her out or some shit.”

“What if it doesn’t work out?” Julie says, full of fear. “What if I mess up and then I lose all of you guys. I already feel like an outsider sometimes when you guys start talking about the things I don’t know about. I’m the friend that everyone would be ok to lose if this doesn’t work out.”

A few beats pass before Max starts to speak. “Ok, one, you are not the friend that everyone would be ok to lose. You have integrated yourself into the group more than you think you have. Second, you are so focused on a relationship that you haven’t even started yet. Life’s too short to have regret for the steps you didn’t take. Believe me, I know.”

Max wraps her arms around her leg, shifting it to a better position. Inadvertently reminding Julie of the things that have happened the past few years. The events she was just a bystander to, never fully experiencing what happened. When they did, somehow. She still wished she kind of knew.

But maybe Max was right. Maybe Julie could take the risk. Ask El on a date. Hope that it would work out, and that she wouldn’t regret it later. What would she regret more? Asking, or forever wondering how it would have turned out had she not.

. . .

July 1987

The room is blurry as Steve comes into consciousness. The bright lights giving him a headache, and the taste of copper resting on is tongue. His one eye can’t open that well, almost swollen shut. His wrists burn against rope as he twists them. Trying to get them apart.

His good eye blinks, focusing on a pair of black boots in front of him. Raising his head, he meets the scowling face of the Russian officer. Hearing words spoken in a language he doesn’t understand to the other man in the room.

“Ah, he’s awake,” The Russian slurs in English. Stepping forward and looking down at Steve. Menacing.

“Let me go,” Steve begs. “I don’t know anything.”

The officer grabs his hair, pulling his head back to look at him. Steve’s tempted to spit in his face.

“I am only going to ask you this again. Who do you work for?”

Steve can’t help but let out a sad laugh. Knowing he won’t be awake for much longer. “I already told you. I work at Scoops.”

The ringing in his ears starts when his cheek burns. Vision blurring again. He straightens his head, panting to try and get the air back into his lungs. Only for it to leave as the officer hits him again. Always the right side of his head. It hurts so much it’s almost numb.

“No, no, no,” Steve pleads as the officer winds up again. Blood pooling in his mouth with the next collision. He spits on the group. “I work at Scoops,” he screams with as much breath he can muster.

The world goes dark again.

Steve wakes with a scream. The surroundings not matching that of his cell. A weight around his torso preventing him from getting up. He rips the blankets off of him, pulling the weight off and throwing it away. Cursing as his feet can’t kick off the sheets. Can’t get free.

Tears are streaming down his face as he struggles. His hands free. The rope burn stinging his skin. His torso itches like crazy. Like small little bites stabbing into his skin. He needs to find Robin. Needs to see if she’s ok.

“Steve,” a voice says to him. How do they know his same? Did he tell it to them? What are they going to do to him now.

He still struggles with the blanket, finally pulling his feet free. Attempting to get off the bed and search for anything as a weapon. This place isn’t the cell he was in before. They must have moved him when he was knocked out.

“Steve,” the voice says again. Sitting up on the bed and starting to move towards him.

Steve flinches from the touch, raising his fists. Ready to strike them first this time. His heart is beating in his ears, the constant ringing in his right only amplified. Adrenaline pumping through his veins.

He needs to get out of here.

A light clicks on. Illuminating the room he’s in. It doesn’t look like a cell. It looks like a bedroom. Have they constructed this just to give him a false sense of security?”

“It was just a dream, Steve.” The man gets out of the bed, taking a cautious step towards Steve. Hands outstretched to block any punches Steve might throw.

Steve wasn’t the threat here. He was just trying to protect himself.

“Can you tell me three things you notice about this room?” The man cautiously spins them around, clicking on another lamp in the room.

The bare walls reflect the light, the soft yellow so different from the blaring white. The walls a tan instead of white or grey. It looks so familiar, but Steve’s mind is so confused. The tears continue to stream down his face as he tries to figure out where he is.

“I work at Scoops,” Steve stutters.

“I know you do.” The man replies quickly. “I believe you.”

More tears. Steve’s hands lower. They know now. Does that mean he’s free to go?

“Tell me three things you see,” he repeats. So soft it makes Steve want to crumble.

“A bed,” he whispers. “A nightstand. A lamp.”

The man takes another step forward. Coming into more clarity. Brown curls fall onto his shoulders. He looks nothing like the Russians.

“Good. Anything else?”

“There’s a picture on the nightstand. The bed has blue sheets. There’s a poster on the wall.”

Eddie places a gentle hand on Steve’s shoulder, he flinches before leaning into it. Closing his eyes and trying to focus on the touch. Letting it ground him.

There’s a knock on the door. Steve’s eyes fly open again as he whips his head to look. Heartbeat increasing again.

“Take a seat, sweetheart, I’ll get it.”

Steve freezes, unable to move. He’s directed toward the bed, somehow, he sits down. Knuckles clenched into white.

“Are you guys ok,” he hears a soft voice say. “I heard screaming.”

Eddie doesn’t open the door more than a small crack. “Yeah, we’re fine. I got this, you can go back to bed.”

The door shuts with a small click. Eddie returning to Steve. Sits next to him as the adrenaline fades. Leaving his body exhausted and his mind still searching for explanations.

“Can you tell me what year it is, Steve?”

He shakes his head.

“It’s July second, 1987. You survived them, Steve. Everyone did.”

A sob escapes his throat. His body collapsing into himself. Curling up as the energy releases. He’s wrapped into a hug and pulled further into the bed. Being protected while he falls apart.

Steve wakes up again a few hours later. Gets out of bed and into a routine. Takes a shower, gets dressed, makes himself breakfast. Goes through the motions of a normal morning.

The front door closes quietly. Eddie and Robin coming into the house. Sitting with Steve at the table.

“I took Julie to school, that’s why I wasn’t here,” Eddie explains. “I told Robin what happened.”

Robin looks down at the table, biting at her lip. “Tomorrow marks two year since-.”

Steve looks at his coffee. “Yeah, I know.”

“I can’t believe it’s been that long. It feels so close yet a lifetime away.”

“It was like I was back there. Even when I woke up.” Steve takes a deep breath. “I thought it was going to be better this year.”

Robin’s hand finds his, her fingers shaking. “Me too.”

They find themselves curled up on the couch for the rest of the day. Eddie there just to make sure they’re both ok. The house quiet except for the low volume on the tv. Lights off so they don’t flicker. Robin’s fingers pressed into Steve’s wrist to feel his pulse. His arm holding her close, proving that she’s there.

They made it out of there. They’re both alive. He wishes that their minds would stop trying to tell them otherwise.

. . .

Julie walks into a dark house. Steve and Robin asleep on the couch with Eddie awkwardly sitting next to them. Looking out of place. She wants to ask about what she heard last night. How she heard the screams from across the hall.

Eddie gets up when he notices her. Motions for her to meet him in Steve’s bedroom. Shuts the door gently behind them before turning on the light.

“You probably have a few questions about last night.”

Julie nods. “Is he ok?”

Eddie runs a hand down his face. “Physically, yeah, he’s fine. But other than that, he will be. This week is an anniversary of something for him. He was reminded of that last night.”

“The mall fire,” Julie fills in. “I know that they were there that night.”

“Do you know why?”

Julie shakes her head. No one would tell her more when she asked.

Eddie nods, crossing his arms and swaying on the balls of his feet. “I’m not sure if I’m allowed to tell you what happened. I don’t even know the full of it.”

She thought Steve told him everything. “It was bad, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s the reason Steve can’t hear well in his right ear anymore. And the reason he gets really bad PTSD attacks. Like the one he had last night.”

“And that’s why,” she tilts her head to the door. Knowing that Steve and Robin tangled together in the living room.

“She was there too.” Eddie looks at the door. Pain painting his face. “A part of me wishes I knew what really happened to them so I could help. But they already relive this pain more than they should, they don’t need to do it again just to fill me in.”

Julie pauses before asking the question that’s been on her mind since the first time she heard screams through the walls. Wonders if there’s a part of her that really wants to know. Or if this is just morbid curiosity. But there were memories of her own that haunt her. Placing her back into moments of her life with things left unexplained.

She cares about these people. It hurts to know that they are in pain. And if she could help, know how to help them through the panic or PTSD attacks, she thinks it’s important enough to know.

“Do you think you could tell me what you know,” she asks softly. “Or at least what you do to help calm him down. I think it would be good for me to be prepared in case it happens and you or Robin aren’t here.”

Eddie presses his lips together. “I’ll do the second one, not the first. As much as he doesn’t want to talk about it, it’s not my story to tell.”

“That’s fair.”

Eddie tells her what he does to calm Steve down when it gets really bad. How with the panic attacks, it’s good to count with him while he breaths. And if he’s willing, grab his hands to help ground him. Tell him about what’s in the room. How it’s different than the pictures in his mind. More things kind of all based on that.

Julie takes it all in, making a mental list in her mind, hoping she doesn’t forget it. Hoping that if it ever happens, she won’t mess it up. Saddened by the fact that this is Steve’s reality.

. . .

A few days pass since Steve’s reality morphed with his nightmares. The date crossed out on his calendar far enough away that it’s finally starting to sink in. Steve made it out of there two years ago. Yet it still affects him like it was yesterday.

Just like back then, life moves on. He goes to work and comes home. Gets weird thinking of the future, and what that means for him. How each milestone will pass, the anniversary of dates coming and going. Affecting him in more ways than he realizes. Until he’s waking in a cold sweat and his body is transported back into his past selves. Some fucked up time travel.

His mind stays fixated on that night. How long it took for his brain to recognize Eddie’s face. To differentiate the safety of his home with the danger of his interrogation cell. How dangerous it could have been.

Eddie told him that Julie has asked about it. How he didn’t say anything, but did tell her ways to help him through an attack. It’s something he never thought of before. Out of all the possibilities that run through his mind, the thought of her being present for one of the attacks never crossed. He never thought she would be there for one of them.

But she almost was. If Eddie hadn’t been there, it would have been Steve opening the door. He didn’t want her to see him like that. He didn’t want the monsters in his head to meld her into something she wasn’t.

She wasn’t a part of this life, he wanted to keep it that way. But Steve has never really gotten what he wished for. It was time to tell her the parts he could.

No one wants to hear about the truth. They don’t want to know the dangers that rest beneath their feet. Blissfully ignorant and wanting to stay that way. Ignorance, however, can hurt sometimes. He didn’t want it to hurt her.

When Julie gets home from school, Steve asks her to sit in the kitchen. Takes the seat across from her and starts to lay out everything. How this conversation can’t leave the room, and she’s never to let anyone know that he told her this.

“This is about Starcourt, isn’t it?” She asks somewhere in the middle of his warnings. “Why all those people walked straight to their death.”

“How did you know about that?” Steve knew that people must have seen it, but it was kept out of the news.

Julie tells him about the night she went looking for her mom. How she got caught in the crowd of people walking toward the mall. Saw the names of people she knew flicker on the tv screen the next morning.

Steve tells her more than he should. About how Will going missing five years ago was a catalyst to so much more. How he got roped into everything. Skipping the bit in the middle for the most part, focusing on how Max came into it all. Then gets to the Russians.

Tells her the story of an innocent mystery turned terrifying nightmare. The interrogation that thankfully didn’t end in his death. Fireworks that crashed into the monster the size of a building and crashing a car into a possessed maniac. All of it ending in burning red, leaving the survivors to cope with their loss.

She’s taking it better than he thought she would. And he hasn’t even said everything yet. Just barely gets to spring break before Julie is pulling him into a hug. Until he realizes the wetness of his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” she chokes. “I am so sorry you had to live through that.”

He doesn’t finish telling her everything. It’s probably a good thing. The NDA’s aren’t as loose as the ones from a few years ago. And it’s better for her to process this and maybe learn the rest later. If she wants to. If he wants to explain it all again.

. . .

“Alright, now turn on the blinker and slowly hit the gas again,” Steve instructs as Julie sits at a stop sign. No one else around.

It’s been a few weeks since she’s started learning how to drive. Slowly easing into it in random parking lots while no one is there. Learning where all the signals were, and basic traffic laws. Most of it was review, but she didn’t mind the practice.

She pushes on the gas, jerking the car into motion. Pulling away from the parking lot and onto the street. For the first time. Julie is driving on the road.

“Ok, good. Just try not to hit the gas so hard next time.”

Steve’s been an ok teacher. Patient for the most part but gets frustrated when he can’t explain something properly. But he hasn’t gotten angry at her yet. Carefully corrects her but makes sure she knows that she’s doing ok. That she’s starting to get this right.

Julie pulses the gas. Learning how to keep the speed of the road. Overcorrecting when she gets too close to the yellow lines. The overcorrecting again when she gets close to tree line.

It’s scary driving something so large. So powerful. Hearing how the engine revs each time she pushes her foot down too hard. Feeling the pull of the seatbelt against her chest as she hits the breaks too fast.

But she’s getting it. Adjusting herself as she gets used to the feel of the petals beneath her feet. Loosens her body as she gets more comfortable gripping the steering wheel. As she gets used to the size of the car and the way it moves.

“Great. You’re doing really great, Julie. How about we turn here and-.”

A deer jumps in front of the car.

Julie slams on the breaks as she swerves close to the trees. The car coming mere inches from the trunk. Her arms shaking as they grip the wheel.

It all can happen so fast.

Steve unbuckles his seatbelt, turning towards her. “Julie, take a breath ok.”

One wrong move and the hood of the car would be curved around the tree. The airbag would be in her face.

“Just take a breath, we’re ok.”

What if her foot had slipped as she pushed down on the breaks? What if her hands fumbled the turn? Would the deer have contacted the car? Would she have killed it?

“You followed your instincts. We’re ok. That’s all that matters. We’re ok.”

Was this what it was like right before her mom’s crash? Did a deer just jump in front of the car? Her foot missing the break as she slammed into a tree. As it crashes just right to take her life. Was this mistake so easy to make that Julie almost made it too?

“Julie,” Steve touches her shoulder, comforting her. “It’s ok. Take all the time you need.”

Julie unbuckles her seatbelt and bolts out of the car. Runs to the wood as bile stings her tongue. Let’s the adrenaline out onto the dirt as she crashes. As the air escapes from her lungs.

Steve’s beside her rubbing her back. Saying something but it doesn’t register. Too stuck in her head to think of anything else.

“I’m sorry,” slips out of her mouth. Not sure of what else to say.

“Don’t be. It was just an accident, it happens all the time.”

Tears start to make their way out of her eyes. “But I didn’t see it. I could’ve. I could’ve crashed the car. Or worse and.” Sharp, shaky breaths interrupt her sentences.

Steve turns her to look at him. “Julie, hey. Look at me.” She does. “Take a deep breath, ok.”

He counts as she forces herself to breath in. She holds it, feeling the beat of her heart in her lungs. Releases it. Does it again.

“I didn’t see the deer either,” Steve admits once she calms down a little. “Something must have scared it, and it ran into the road. And you did a good job avoiding it.”

She doesn’t feel like it was a good job. “It all happened so fast.”

The tears continue to stream down her face. The feeling of the break pressed into the bottom of her foot. Throbbing. Her shoulder stinging from the pull of the seatbelt. The feeling of it all finally registering.

Her forehead hurts. Something is dripping down in between her eyes. She reaches up and swipes away blood. The buzz coming back to her veins.

“Fuck,” she mutters, eyes glued to her hand.

Steve gets up and comes back with a small first aid kit. Wiping away the blood with some napkins and pressing them against her forehead. Waiting for the bleeding to stop.

She doesn’t even remember her head hitting the steering wheel.

They sit in silence while Steve cleans the cut. Julie wincing when the alcohol wipe hits her broken skin. Steve finds a small piece of gauze and tapes it to her forehead. Packing up the first aid kit and returning to just sitting next to her.

“We’ll sit here as long as you want to, then I’ll drive us home,” he says.

Drive. Julie doesn’t know how she can sit in the car again. Knowing how easy it is for it all to fail.

“It all happened so fast,” she says again. Fixated on it.

“Yeah, yeah it did.” Steve’s trying to stay strong but she can see the shock in his actions too.

“Was it that fast when,” a lump forms in her throat. “When she? When my mom?”

Steve realizes what she’s talking about, starting to open and close his mouth. Trying to find something to say.

“I,” he starts. “I don’t know.”

“That’s all I could think about.” She looks at him. “All I can think about is how I could almost have died just like her. One wrong move and I-. And we-.”

Steve grabs her arms, looking her dead in the eyes. “Hey,” he says softly. “It’s ok. Whatever could have happened, it doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that we’re here, and we’re safe. You got shocked and followed your instincts. And because of that, we’re both ok.”

Ok normally doesn’t feel like this. But she tries, really tries to listen to his words.

“I know none of this is going to stop the what ifs in your mind. Believe me, I know. But those what ifs are not going to change what happened. It’s important to remember that.”

She knows he’s right. But it’s so hard to keep her mind on track. Letting it off rail to the ends of possibilities. Wondering if there was ever one where there was never an almost crash to begin with.

“Let’s go home. Get an icepack on that head and make sure it’s ok before you go to sleep. Ok?”

Slowly, Julie nods. “Ok.”

She gets in the car. Buckling the seat belt and tugging it to make sure it locked. Steve gets in the driver’s seat and readjusts it and the mirrors before slowly pulling away. The almost accident fading as she stares in the sideview mirror.

It was just an accident. It can happen to anyone. It just had to happen to her.

Tag list(let me know if you want to be added or removed): @homoerotictangerine, @mugloversonly, @thesuninyaface, @imyelenasexual, @anaibis,

@ilovecupcakesandtea, @brainsteddielyrotted, @jackiemonroe5512, @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple, @goodolefashionedloverboi,

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @lolawonsstuff, @writingandmushroomdragons, @stevesbipanic, @sierra-violet,

@steddie-as-they-go, @dauntlessdiva, @mousedetective, @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner, @zombiethingy,

@connected-dots-st-reblogger, @that-agender-from-pluto, @allyricas, @cheddartreets, @devondespresso,

@crypticcorvidinacottage, @queenie-ofthe-void @chronicpainstevetruther, @melonmochi

[disgruntledkittenface]

Annual Writing Self-Evaluation 2024

Thank you @haztobegood for tagging me!

1. Number of stories posted to AO3: 8

2. Word count posted for the year: 62,372

3. Fandoms I wrote for: One Direction, British Royalty RPF, BBC Radio 1 RPF, When Harry Met Sally (1989)

4. Pairings: Harry/Louis, Zayn/Harry, Louis/Prince William, Nick/Harry/Louis

5. Story with the most:

Kudos: i’m going out tonight (139)

Bookmarks: i’m going out tonight (29)

Comments: When Harry Met Louis (41 comment threads)

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why): When Harry Met Louis. I came up with the idea to write this because I was just trying to think of a rom com that I could make really, really gay. It became a lot more along the way, and I’m proud of the way I was able to incorporate history and different attitudes toward marriage, while keeping it a rom com and rounding out the characterization and story. 

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why): It’s not that I’m not proud of it, but I think I feel the least close to i’m going tonight. That one came about because I wanted to write for the Taylor Swift fest, so I found a song that I could come up with an idea for, as opposed to having an idea that just worked for it. 

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received: Someone commented on When Harry Met Louis that it made them think about lesbian culture, which they didn’t expect, and I just loved that. Writing girl direction has been a journey for me, and that kind of felt like the culmination of it. 

9. A time when writing was really, really hard: I’ve had a really hard time writing in the last month. I’ve been having a hard time with this being the first holiday season without my mom, and then my mother-in-law fell when she was alone in her home and declined really fast after that, and I’ve just kind of given up for the moment.

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: LISTEN. Everything about I regret you all the time surprised me. I was surprised that I was inspired in the first place, how quickly it came together and how it just worked. #louilliam forever, I guess.

More under the cut.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing: Honestly, all of A Haunting in Doncaster. 

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: I kind of feel like I grew as a person while writing When Harry Met Louis, so maybe that translates into growing as a writer?

13. How do you hope to grow next year: Right now, I just hope to continue writing. I haven’t been around as much this year, everything has just been weird and off, and I kind of feel like I don’t go here anymore. I feel like because I haven’t been putting much into the community, I’m not getting as much out. But I really enjoy writing and the world building in this fandom. 

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc): I feel like this year it was fest mods for giving me inspiration and a reason to think of an idea and follow through with it. 

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: When I was outlining When Harry Met Louis, I knew I wanted Harry’s family to be, like, lightly (or politely) homophonic. I struggled when I got to the point of writing the fic where I had to address it, and I realized that I was kind of working out how I felt about my own parents, who I never got the opportunity to come out to as bi. 

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: I’ve probably said this before, but one thing I love about writing is that the more specific it is, somehow the more universal it becomes. Like the most specific detail you can think of will be the thing that the most people relate to. (Is that even wisdom? I don’t know, be specific if you want to relate to people!)

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: I would like to be able to write the Harry/Sutton (from Real Housewives of Beverly Hills) fic that I tried to start for Harry Rare Pair Fest. Also, I’ve been rereading old Mary Higgins Clark novels and it made me want to write a witness protection program AU. 

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.

@uhoh-but-yeah-alright @louandhazaf @homosociallyyours @kingsofeverything @allwaswell16 @louisandtheaquarian

[whoisshel]

Stuck on You

Honey was given the nickname for a reason; she’s sweet and sticky like honey. Memories of her will stick with you forever, and after meeting her, you’ll want to stick by her side. Most people know her by Honey more than they do her own name. The whole town of Hawkins was surprised when they learned who she allowed to stick by her at all times.

If there was ever a person to be considered an opposite of Honey, it was Eddie “The Freak” Munson. Eddie wore black and leather while Honey wore white and soft cotton. Eddie lived in a one-bedroom trailer with his Uncle, Honey grew up with both her parents and was surrounded by siblings in the house neighboring the Harrington’s. Eddie couldn't care less about the number of eyes that fell on him for being loud and different than everyone else in town, and Honey tried to shield herself from the eyes that peered at her being the town's sweetheart.

Yet, besides those differences, and more, the two found each other and haven’t left that feeling behind. Eddie and Honey started dating during Eddie’s second senior year and Honey’s first. They both knew of each other, of course, from being Hawkins’ freak and sweetheart. They officially met in their English class when Honey noticed Eddie looking confused while reading Catcher in the Rye, so she went over to see if she could be of any help.

“Hi,” Hones shyly said standing over the desk he sat at, “I saw that you seemed confused by the book, and was wondering if you’d like some help. Catcher in the Rye is one of my favorite books, I’ve read it like a million times.”

Eddie just stared at Honey as she rambled on. He took in her shy appearance as she swayed nervously with her hands linked behind her back. Eddie was mostly surprised that a girl who was dressed in a white sweater and short plaid skirt would willingly want to help him, not to mention this girl was loved by everyone in town.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie finally sputtered out, “I would love your help.”

Not long after that, the two began to date, and the town erupted. Everyone talked about how surprised they were about the two teens dating. No one’s opinion was split though, it was probably the first the town could agree on something, Honey was too good for that “Freak.”

The town didn’t care to get to know Honey, because if they did they’d see that she’s not that different from Eddie.

Honey loves Rock music, what else is going to tune her parents’ shouting. She also enjoyed reading The Hobbit, she and Eddie loved reading The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings series over and over again together. While Honey didn’t know anything about Dungeons and Dragons before Eddie, she loved to listen to him talk about it and watch him play. Maybe she loved it because he loved it and would enthusiastically talk about it, or maybe because the game was actually fun.

The Dungeons and Dragons club members were very surprised when Honey showed up to one of the meetings. They heard the rumors but didn't believe them until the day they showed up to what was supposed to be a regular meeting but there Honey was all smiles and sitting comfortably on Eddie’s lap. The members were also surprised by how much patience Eddie had when teaching Honey the game. Usually, Eddie hated newbies that knew nothing, trying to play but when it came to Honey he was calm and collected, helping her every step of the way.

“Hey Eddie,” Honey unknowingly interrupted Eddie in the middle of telling another member his damage.

While everyone else froze, Eddie turned to Honey with the gentle list smile, “Yeah, babe?”

“Can you explain her powers to me again?”

Everyone assumed Eddie and Honey wouldn’t last longer than two months, but they were so wrong.

They’ve been together for three years now, Honey has graduated and is now a Junior in college while Eddie took another year to graduate High School where he met all their new friends. Eddie now works as a mechanic at a shop near Honey’s school. The two had even saved up enough money to move into an apartment and seemed like they weren’t going to be breaking up any time soon.

Honey and Eddie were happy that their place would give them space from the talk in their town but not too much that they couldn’t see friends or family. They would make the trip to visit Wayne and Honey’s siblings when they had time and would occasionally visit friends but most of the time they prioritized family. Their friends would visit them so much that they never needed to worry; especially when it came to Dustin, Steve, and Robin. Dustin practically lived with them from how often he would visit, and now that it’s his Junior year of High School all he can talk about is that once he graduated, he wants to go to the same college as Honey so they always be together.

“And then, I can get an apartment in the same building as yours so we can visit each other every day!” Dustin enthusiastically ranted.

Eddie looked over at Honey with wide eyes, while she just continued smiling. Eddie turned back to give Dustin a strained smile along with a nod, “That sounds great.”

The sarcasm was dripping off of Eddie’s extended “great” but that just went past Dustin as he continued with his plan.

“Oh, oh, even better idea. We should all move in together.”

It actually wasn’t too long after this conversation that three familiar faces became their neighbor six doors down.

Robin did attend the same college as Honey, and at first, she was just commuting but she wanted to live a shorter distance away. Robin and Vickie started looking for close apartments when Honey told her about a place that opened up in her building. One problem was that the place was a bit out of their price range and a two-bedroom. The place was really nice though and in walking distance to school so they wouldn’t have to pay for the parking pass. That’s when the third familiar face named Steve Harrington joined and now Honey and Eddie lived next to their friends.

Maybe living next to Dustin wouldn’t be so bad. Wrong!

In the morning, everyone stayed in their own apartments, giving Eddie and Honey time to enjoy each other's company. Every morning was pretty much the same for them. Honey was a big morning person, she loved to sit on the couch, placed perfectly near a window so she could watch the sun change from dark blue to orange to pink while she sipped on her Earl Grey Tea in her favorite Golden Girls mug. This gave Eddie time to sleep in because once the sun was shining Honey had nothing else to do but get Eddie up.

Eddie was not a morning person like his girlfriend but he couldn’t afford staying in bed; literally. Eddie had to be at work by nine a.m. which was luckier than the opener. Getting up at seven was made easier by the beautiful sight he saw every morning and the coffee that came with it.

Eddie stirred at the light caress he felt on his cheek, and what sounded to be an angel calling his name, “Eddie, it’s time to get up.”

When he realized what he was hearing, he scrunched his face in protest keeping his eyes shut tight trying to bring his sleep back.

“Come on, Eddie,” Honey chuckled at the cute face he made, “I’ve already let you sleep in. You’ve got to get ready for work.”

Eddie ended his protest, opening his eyes. As soon as he saw his beautiful girlfriend, a soft smile made its way on his face and to his eyes, “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Good morning, handsome.” Honey still had a hand on his cheek, stroking a thumb across his cheekbone, “I brought your coffee.”

Eddie sat up, leaning against the wall their bed was against. He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the mug filled with coffee, taking a small sip, His face filled with disgust, pushing the mug towards Honey, “Bleh, not sweet enough.”

Honey just rolled her eyes, trying to hide the smile creeping its way onto her face. Eddie made this joke every morning; and yet, Honey never grew tired of it. Neither did Eddie, seeing the same reluctant smile turn into one of joy. So Honey did what she does every morning, and stuck her finger into his coffee.

Taking the mug back, Eddie took another sip, “That’s better.”

The two have heard everything there could be said about how they would never make it and they were too different from each other. Even though Honey continued to dress in white sweaters and Eddie in his black leather vest, the two could never be more alike or in love.

Eddie knew that, and so did the small felt box he kept stashed away.

[devil-doll13]

Some House of Wax/Sinclair Brothers Headcanons I’ve had in my head that I’ve already shared w the server but… The rest of the world deserves to know.

Related to gif, Vincent is the ‘medical expert’ of the house solely because he’s the one who knows the human body/first aid the best. I mean, in the movie we see him stitching up those wounds on what’s-his-face pretty neatly, right? This is also part of the reason why he automatically reaches for Bo during this scene.

Given his birth date was sniffed out by fans before me (1970) and this man looks like he’s a cosplayer sometimes, I truly believe Bo idolised Elvis Presley as a kid, and maybe a bit as an adult as well. He still enjoys listening to rock n’ roll from that era when he’s in a good mood. When he’s in a bad mood, or doing his business™️ in his sex dungeon/basement, that’s when the Marilyn Manson comes on.

All of them have had an alt phase of some sort. For Vincent it was goth, for Bo it was rivethead/industrial rock and for Lester it was grunge.

Les is also down bad fucking horrendous for alt people in general. Yes, he has magazines stuffed down his sofa, yes, they used to be Bo’s.

Bo is allergic to nuts. He also gets really nasty hay fever. I also think possibly him having sensory issues/picky eater could’ve led to meltdowns as we see in the opening. And really, it’s the 1970s/80s do you expect his parents to understand or sympathise?

In contrast, Lester has the constitution of a Greek god somehow and has probably eaten some absolutely vile shit as a kid.

I know most people interpret Vince as sweet and shy but… While I do think he’s more measured and withdrawn compared to Bo, I also think being the ‘favourite’ in terms of being Trudy’s little art prodigy contributed to a sort of spoilt brattiness esp as a kid. (Exhibit A: The ‘Bo Sux’ fridge art in the opening) As an adult, there’s still a sense of entitlement to him. What I’m saying is that he’s an insufferable art nerd lol. He definitely isn’t toothless and his arguments with Bo aren’t necessarily one-sided, he’s just capable of ignoring him when he wants to; he’s used to his twin, after all. While I do think he’s capable of being soft, don’t forget this man killed a woman in cold blood and recorded it. I also think he can get snippy enough during arguments to combat Bo’s generally sharp tongue.

Speaking of which, everyone in the (surviving) family knows ASL. It’s necessary when communicating with Vincent.

Again with how prolific a killer Vincent is, I suspect he may be the one who does the most murder out of all of them. Bo is the handsome ‘face’ of Ambrose, and Vincent is right under the seedy underbelly with a knife, ready to spill guts (and then sew it up again once he’s got them in the workshop). Lester is similar to Bo in that he mostly just guides people toward the town, but I do think he gets his own notions sometimes.

From a more x reader perspective, Bo strikes me as a man who’s most charming when he’s not trying to be. Of course he can put on an act for victims/tourists, but those are just empty words, y’know? Also, has a kinda cheesy side.

I know everyone has Jonesy as Lester’s dog but… I think she’s really Vincent’s. In the movie, she’s always seen with Vin or in the house of wax itself, it’s only when he dies that she goes to Lester. I actually think Les is a cat person (tell me he wouldn’t actually encourage their hunting habits for his own personal collection…) while Vin is a dog person. Also, hot take I think Bo loves snakes and reptiles.

Given that the House of Wax and Ambrose itself is a big ol’ art project, and we’ve seen the state of the church (permanently in the middle of dead ass crusty Trudy’s funeral) I think there may be a sort of difficulty letting go of their past in the brothers, maybe some hoarding as well (I mean we haven’t even seen some of the other houses in Ambrose but this is just speculation). We get the sense that Ambrose is a place where time stands still, forever, until its conservationists finally die. Idk I’m talking out my ass here

[annoyinglandmagazine]

In Which War Is Safer Than This Family Reunion chapter 3

Bilbo was most decidedly not eavesdropping, people of his age didn’t eavesdrop that would be terribly undignified, for the likes of young Pippin and even he had supposedly matured. Whether he believed it or not…. well he himself had matured in some ways after his own adventure but in others he was bizarrely unchanged. So if when he was passing the library he happened to pass by the dining room and try to catch a glimpse of what all this drama could have been about, well he was a thief after all.

‘Oh I almost forgot,’ said in the tone of someone who had never forgotten anything in her life, ‘I brought some of my Naneth’s baking for afterwards, she’s very excited to meet you by the way darling, I thought you might like to try them,’ the elf maid that he was calling Woman Who Looks Disconcertingly Like A More Passive Aggressive Elrond In A Dress or Elrond Clone for short, said in a cheerful way that made it clear she was setting up to insult someone around the table.

Glorfindel however perked up slightly at this, ‘This wouldn’t happen to be some Doriathrim nut confection would it, my lady?’

She smiled back perfectly pleasantly as she took a polite bite out of the venison in front of her, ‘It would indeed, walnut and pear roulade to be specific.’

Glorfindel leaned over to Elrond and whispered in his ear, ‘Maybe I was too hasty, perhaps this wasn’t such a terrible idea after all. The Sindar I knew in Gondolin certainly knew how to bake and I’d imagine Nimloth is no different.’

However he sent a look to Elrond afterwards making very clear that he took his words back when Elwing continued, ‘I on the other hand, as you might remember from any attempts at lembas during your youth, did not have a very thorough education in such matters due to unforeseen circumstances,’ she chuckled in a way that should have been self deprecating given the statement but with the way everyone in the room tensed and she made direct and ever so slightly manic eye contact with I Know Elves Are Tall But This Is Ridiculous who shot her a smile in return that was perhaps the most terrifying thing he’d ever seen and that included the giant dragon.

She did not stop. ‘You know I detect some Sindarin techniques in the dinner, Celeborn must have taught you, such a good influence and role model for you to have isn’t he?’ Bilbo saw people actually wince. That was even less veiled than all the jabs so far, if anything over this dinner had been remotely restrained.

Still Too Tall But This One Has Black Hair chimed in, with that unique look of someone ready to finally let loose after one probe too many that he recognised from many an awkward party, despite the redhead shooting him a warning look identical and in sync with Elrond’s ‘Really? Because I believe that this meat is cooked exactly how I would have taught him-’

‘Oh you taught him to cook! I wonder how you went about that, everyone was so low on supplies from what I’ve heard of the state of things around then,’ Anxious Looking Blonde Who’d Barely Spoke So Far spoke quickly in a, very obviously to everyone who’d been paying attention so far, futile attempt to assuage tensions.

Cutlery scraped just a little too sharply across plates in the room as Ridiculously Tall smiled appreciatively at the change of subject, ‘Yes there was quite a challenge but we mostly tried survival meals, for in emergencies such as our own and such, we’d start by lighting a good outdoor fire-’

‘Oh of course you’d know plenty about that.’

Anxious Blonde rested his hand on that of Elrond Clone and said ‘Could we please try to be more pleasant? We’ve all come a long way and the important thing is that we’re here with our son-’

Maglor decided to go in for the kill, ‘Earendil, do you really think you ought to weigh in, you do realise the only reason you haven’t been attacked for your parenting style yet is that there isn’t any to critique?’ Well that was so blatant he could understand it without any of the seemingly centuries of context needed to catch the rest of this conversation, wait a moment Earendil-

‘Don’t you dare speak to my husband like that-’

Elrond placed his fork down delicately before slamming his hands onto the table to silence the argument and speaking with a soft fury that Bilbo would have thought him incapable of. It sent shivers running down his spine even knowing Elrond was as kind a person as you could find. ‘Alright, that is quite enough that. Can you not just get on for one dinner? I really didn’t think I was asking too much considering the fact that, if we are being fully honest here, none of you would win any parenting awards for the shambles that was first half century of my life.’

He raised an eyebrow as if inviting anyone to disagree. None did.

‘Oh and another thing. Don’t believe for a minute I don’t know what you’re trying to do,’ he looked pointedly at Tall Black Hair, ‘and it’s not going to work. I asked you to come here because I wanted to see you and I don’t appreciate you attempting to manipulate me into making you leave. I’m frankly insulted you think I’d fall for that, you didn’t raise an idiot; you’re not getting out of this that easily, you kidnapped me, you’re stuck with me now.’

What? Kidnapped- what in the world was going on?! The rest of the conversation barely registered, so great was his confusion, and he slipped back to his rooms in a daze. Several hours later he found Elrond alone in the room picking up shattered dishes from the carpet and his heart broke for him, he must have been trying so hard and Bilbo had tried to believe everything would be alright but it had been impossible to ignore the thundering voices in several languages even from the other side of the house. Elrond turned to greet him while picking a salad leaf out of his hair.

‘Well, that went quite well if I do say so myself,’ Elrond smiled, genuinely cheerful, as if what had just happened was anything less than a worst case scenario for any family gathering. Which was saying something because while the good family reunion was a rare and beautiful thing the disastrous one came in many shapes and sizes and Bilbo liked to think himself in expert in the latter by now but nothing he’d seen or heard before scratched the surface of whatever he’d just witnessed.

He thought of how to enquire tactfully and then decided there was no need to start now, ‘Did it? How did these all get broken then?’

Elrond chuckled, ‘We threw them of course. I think it did rather a lot for all our ease of mind actually, venting and all that. I’ve always said throwing things can help, though this is the first time it’s actually been at my parents rather than pictures of them pinned on doors for knife practice- don’t tell anyone I said that Bilbo. They seemed in a better mood when they left anyway, they all promised to return anyway.’

Bilbo was definitely not imagining the howl of agony he heard from Glorfindel’s chambers down the hall at this last remark.

‘Oh. Well I suppose your family business is your own but I have to say there is one thing that still puzzles me.’

‘Only one? Well go ahead Mr Baggins, ask away.’

‘Who exactly divorced who?’

He did not get an answer, in fact only more questions from the way Elrond broke into a fit of laughter and grabbed a pillar for support. He’d just have to ask Glorfindel then, he seemed to know something.

[out-of-the-curve]

A Christmas Eve family party is happening in my house, my niece and I are hanging out in my harry potter-under-the-stairs ass room because we’re the autistic outcasts that everyone doesn’t know how to fucking handle. Just earlier I was asked if my younger niece could nap in my cramped room where I barely have any space and was hosting my first niece. I politely told him no, and he kept drunkenly asking. I kept telling him no, since I’m not obligated to and I’ve had bad experiences with my younger niece. This sucks, but whatever. My first niece and I are just spending time, complaining and venting about our family.

Apparently no one in my damn family likes me even though I have never fully interacted with them. Additionally, the only things they know about me is the shit talking my mom has done behind my back. By the way, I did not know my mom was talking shit about me, but I wasn’t all that surprised since I always knew she’s two faced.

Also I was not invited to the actual family Christmas party because my older cousin, who’s an adult and has a job, doesn’t like me because I insulted her even though I haven’t had an actual conversation with her for most of my life?? It was only me specifically, my parents are allowed to go to that party. Which I wouldn’t have gone anyways, but jesus, at least have the decency to invite me even if you hate me for no reason??

Only two people have given me a gift, my partner and my half sister. My sister mostly because she feels obligated since my parents and I babysit her baby. I couldn’t even have a birthday party earlier this month because apparently most of the entire family was at a company Christmas party on my birthday. Then after their company party there was still plenty of time to actually come to my house to have a party, no, they just have an after party. At a house that is literally just one house down. Yeah, they’re not forced to go to my birthday or give me a gift, but I thought it might’ve been different since I’m turning 18 and I never had a party for any of my birthdays since I was 6. Now I have to wait till summer next year to actually have a party, in another country.

Anyways, my mood isn’t all that bad since I did get a present from my partner in person and I have my niece, the only person I trust and can confide in, to talk to while everyone is having a drunk karaoke session.

[heylittlethoughts]

14Days of MHA - Day 1 - Family

@Pikahula posted about fourteen days of My Hero Academia. As much as they have given us, it felt wrong to not participate. MHA and this fandom has given me so much. I’ve written fanfic in private for some time and this felt like a good time to post some of it for the first time. Hope you enjoy my take on the Family prompt.

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Content warning/context: Festival Day included a family event. Reader, gender neutral, Class 1-A, family/childhood trauma (emotional, narcissist abuse, CPTSD). Found family fluff, Katsuki x Reader fluff. Word count: 1.8k

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Class 1-A made their way to the courtyard for their turns to meet up with their family members. You followed along quietly lost in a world of thoughts.

You understood why the school decided to add the family event. It was jarring for some students to be away from family. A part of you was worried that yours would show up today though, just to berate you yet again for picking a life they didn’t agree with. They signed off on the dorms more as way to get you out of their life than in acceptance of your choice to be a hero. Whatever their motive, you were excited to have a layer of protection from your family trying to antagonize you daily.

Mina interrupted your thoughts with a bubbly bump into your shoulder “Hey, are you excited?!”

“Oh, yeah for sure” you forced a cheerful smile.

“Raccoon eyes, what are you doing bumping into people?” Katsuki barked at her.

“I’m just excited.” she spun around in a circle while walking. “I haven’t seen them since…” You tuned out the conversation as you caught Katsuki’s gaze giving him an appreciative smile.

When families came up in conversation you brushed it off, kept things vague, or found some excuse to leave the conversation. It’s not like you remembered much of your childhood to have anything to tell. Therapist said that was the CPTSD trying to protect you, the build up of painful little moment after little moment over the years.

The only person who knew anything was Katsuki. Because of course he was observant of that too. One night studying at his house, he noticed you getting sad watching him interact with his parents, pressing it until you explained your situation. You don’t know if he fully understood being low or no contact with family. Even so, he helped take the attention off you when it came up in group conversations after that.

You found a bench on the edge of the courtyard and leaned back on your hands as you sat down. Seeing everyone smile and hug their families made you smile. Everyone was so happy, some of them crying with joy, others laughing, some bubbly excitement at catching up with family in person.

It all was almost enough to make you get up and join. Some of the groups were mingling together, it’s not like anyone would turn you away. As you started to shift to stand, you stopped yourself. This event isn’t for you. Let them all have their time with their families. Don’t be a burden, you thought.

That familiar wave of sadness, loneliness, anxiety, whatever it was, it washed over you. You threw your head back to look up at the sky. Blinking to the adjustment of light, or to blink away the tears that pricked at your eyes.

A woman’s voice forced your head to whip back forward. “Hi there.” It was Mitsuki.

“Hello.” You said as you sat up straight on the bench. You hadn’t notice how sprawled out your arms where. “Sorry, did you want to sit down?” you offered nervously. Had she seen me tearing up?

“Thank you, could use the break from all that commotion.” She laughed lightly as her hand motioned back towards Katsuki barking at Kaminari, while Masaru was apologizing to Kaminari’s family.

You couldn’t help the snicker that escaped and the genuine smile that crossed your face. For whatever reason Katsuki did that to you. Him just existing was like a bright star in the dark sky always leading you back to where you should be.

Mitsuki caught you watching her son. “That boy of ours is such a handful” she had the tone of years of exhaustion from raising him. It was the layer of love and admiration mixed in, that caught you off guard.

That was the difference, you thought. Your family would say you were exhausting but meant it to hurt, that they would have preferred not to have you, that you were a burden. Mitsuki loved her son through it all, his attitude, his explosive energy, she loved him. What does it feels like to have a family that actually loves you, you let your mind wonder before cutting the thought off and steadying your mind back to the conversation.

“He’s not all that bad.” you smiled “It’s just how he communicates.” You couldn’t help the flutter of butterflies in your stomach as you looked at Katsuki, now laughing with the group. He had the most amazing smile.

Before either of you could say anything else, you saw Katsuki notice you and his face change. Something of surprise, annoyance maybe, or was he flustered it was you talking to his mother. “Hey Hag, what are you doing bothering people?” He yelled.

“Katsuki!” Mitsuki stood with authority. “Could you behave yourself for once?” she yelled back at him. She turned back to you, “I’m so sorry for him.” she said with a sweet apologetic smile.

“None needed” you smiled as you laughed. You’d seen them interact before and knew he was nothing but bark towards her. You found it cute how they yelled and argued with each other, knowing it wasn’t from any place of anger or actual resentment, it was endearing.

As they continued to bicker from across the courtyard, your smile and laughter faded. You couldn’t stop the waves of emotions crashing into you. Your face slipped into your thoughts. I was so behaved, and yet they never treated me with such love. Why? What did I do wrong? Why wasn’t I good enough? Why couldn’t they just love me?

Even from his distance across the courtyard, Katsuki noticed your face drop. “YN, you good?” he called over, calmer, concerned. Their fighting put on pause as Mitsuki turned to look at you as well with that same concern across her face.

Tears were pooled at the rim of your eyes. “Huh?” you said as you blinked and they streamed down your cheeks, tuning you into why they were you looking at you with such concern. No, no, don’t be a burden.

You shook your head and brushed your eyes with the back of your hands. “I’m fine.” you called out, you didn’t even believe yourself. “I don’t know what happened” you steadied yourself a bit more. “Must have been a bug or something in my eye. I’ll be right back” you were already standing and a step towards the direction of the bathrooms before all the words were out.

“Dear.” Mitsuki said almost a whisper. She took the stride towards you and wrapped you in a tight hug.

What was happening? The mix of intrusive thoughts and the warmth of a genuine hug were pulling you at opposite ends. “I’m ok-ay” your voice breaking from the now full crying that was happening.

She gently shushed you as she pulled you in tighter. “It’s okay if this is hard.” How does she- Did Katsuki tell her?

“You’ve done so much for my son, please let me be here for you.” she pulled you back to arms length to look in your eyes. Her voice sterned, she made sure you were listening before saying “Family doesn’t have to blood. It’s who you want it to be. You are not robbed of new love because of any lack of it in the past.”

Your chin trembled as you held back sodding, tears escaping down your cheeks. She pulled you back into a hug. Maybe so you don’t embarrass her, crying out in the open like this. your sinical thought intruding. You forced it away. Maybe because this is how real parents comfort their kids. You thought to yourself in a softer voice. You wrapped your arms around her and pulled yourself into the embrace.

She continued “We will be here for you, anytime you need it.”

You let yourself sob, muffled into her.

She continued “You are important to my son, so you are important to me. More than that, you are amazing on your own. You don’t deserve to feel so alone, my dear.” You could feel her head shift looking back to everyone in the courtyard. “You have so many people here who are your family. I know any of them will let you lean on them when you need it. Okay?”

You nodded against her as your breath steadied. You weren’t sure if you fully believed her. You knew everyone here was your friend, but you never wanted to burden someone else with your mess of trauma. Would they still truly want to be there for you if they knew how much of a mess you actually were?

Your thoughts were interrupted at the sound of Katsuki barking from somewhere next to you. “What are you doing hag? Trying to suffocate them?”

You felt yourself move before you realized where you were going. Mitsuki had turned and softly pushed you into Katsuki’s arms. He hesitantly held you not sure what was happening.

“Katsuki, Stop yelling.” Mitsuki said as she hit the top of his hand passing by him back to Masaru in the courtyard. You saw her turn and smile sweetly towards you. Almost a giving permission or maybe giving the mom order of let it happen, let us love you.

Katsuki’s energy shifted, concerned, feeling the tension in your body and the jagged breaths from your crying. You were still sniffling as you regained composure. “Family shit get to you?” he said in a soft grumble as he hugged you with more intention.

“Yeah” you said softly curling into his chest. He was warm and smelled sweet. Something about him always calmed your nerves. Taking a deep breath, “I’m such a mess. I was trying so hard to not let it ruin anyone’s day.”

“Fuck that!” he barked above you. Taken aback, you looked up towards him. That cocky smile across his face. “You’re amazing. The only way you’re ruining anyone’s day is by sulking over here by yourself.” he said with confidence and a hint of pink crossing his face.

A soft smile settled on your face as you leaned into him. “Thank you” you mumbled sweetly into him. You could just barely see the pink turn a shade darker.

“Come on already.” he said turning away from you while grabbing you hand. “Let’s go back to the idiots.” This version of him was one of your favorites. He was softer, gentle even. He made you feel safe and important.

As you walked back to the groups of friends and their families, their bright faces washing away any anxiety you might have had joining in on their fun. You smiled and laughed and thought, maybe it was true. That it’s okay to be loved. It’s okay to make a new family.

That even though it was chance that you all were in the same class, that this was your family and you are forever grateful for them all.

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

If DCLA characters had Tumblr part 14 🕺🏼

🤓 annoyingperson follow

I never understood the thing with Isadora Starfighter. She just went to visit different planets every book, stayed there, left. It got so boring after it happened for a fourth time.

🌟 supernova-number-one follow

Someone has not read book 6 and it shows

🤓 annoyingperson follow

No? Of course I haven’t read book 6. I lost interest at book 4. Didn’t even know there was 6 books.

🌟 supernova-number-one follow

Here is a synopsis of what happened in book 6. If you dare to call that boring then I will hunt you down and throw acid at you.

6 notes

🛼 rollerskatingonthemoon follow

It’s so funny that every time I say I have a dream, people get so intrigued. Maybe because my dreams have tended to either predict the future, give me clues of what to do next when I’m in doubt, or given insight into my early childhood.

🎤singing-is-who-i-am follow

OMG SAME???

I mean my dreams rarely go into the past but the FUTURE, oh boy…

I’ve also had tendencies to share dreams with people. Daydreams, even.

2 notes

🌼 punk-not-dead follow

I got to know that my first word was ”fuck”.

My life is complete

🌼 punk-not-dead follow

Ok, I hear you, you wanna hear about my life.

So I was at daycare, age 1. I was awfully quiet, which the teachers deemed suspicious. They went up to check on me. I was just playing with blocks, not harming anyone.

As I finished my block tower, I smiled mischieviously and yelled ”FUCK!” as I kicked the tower down.

The daycare teachers contemplaited if they should call my parents or not, and eventually decided not to, but wrote about the incident in my daycare reports card (which is how I know of this information). I also know it’s one of my first words because they wrote, and I quote, ”She’s only been communicating in grunts and babbles and this was the first clear word.”

🌼 punk-not-dead follow

Ok, so you may wonder how I learned this word. Many people guess I’ve heard adults swear. But the thing is, my parents NEVER swear. I also got to hear that the only things I got to see on TV as a 1 year old was VHS tapes of kids shows my parents had recorded beforehand that they deemed suitable (they were way stricter back when they only had me. The second the twins were born they did a 180 switch to hippie parenting).

So my theory for how I learned the word? From my previous life.

You see, I have this theory that the reason we do not remember anything in our first years on the planet is because our spirit from a previous life is guiding us on how to live. They feed us ideas and tips on how to navigate life. And when they deem us to be ready, they leave our body, and that’s when we have our first memory. That’s why when you have your first memory you don’t remember anything beforehand. You’re kind of just thrown in and you’re familiar with everything but you don’t know why you are.

Anyway, I think the spirit from my previous life cursed a lot, so I was probably influenced. And thus, my first word was fuck, even though no one around me had ever uttered those words.

🎀 italys-biggest-bow-collector follow

This took a direction I was not prepared with but ok

77 notes

💍 queenoftherink follow

Last night I dreamt that I had two daughters named Lilith and Angelica.

Don’t know if this is a prediction for the future or not

🏳️‍🌈 creyendoenmi follow

Omg like the Sims 2 twins? (I think one of them is named Angela in the og game but she’s still named Angelica in some translations)

💍 queenoftherink follow

Like the Sims 2 twins!!

20 notes

🌟 supernova-number-one follow

Describing all Isadora Starfighter books in one sentence

Isadora Starfighter: Cute kids story about a girl with a magical space wand she uses to travel to other galaxies <3

Isadora Starfighter and the wand malfunction: Oh no magical space wand is broken what to do now

Isadora Starfighter and Princess Supernova: GAY GAY LESBIAN GAY

Isadora Starfighter The galaxy prom: The reason all of us in the fandom are obsessed with cosplay

Isadora Starfighter goes missing: Our girl somehow ends up on the loneliest and coldest dwarf planet because she took one wrong turn

Isadora Starfighter and the candy machine: IF YOU DIDN’T HAVE TRAUMA BEFORE YOU’RE GONNA GET IT NOW

Isadora Starfighter Homecoming: The title is literal, because she literally comes home to her home planet, idk what else homecoming means I’m not american

Isadora Starfighter escapes: A reminder that this book series is no longer for kids it’s a fucking dystopian sci fi war now

Isadora Starfighter against the galaxy: When you’re a hormonal teenager and also everyone in a galaxy is literally against you because of a spell, but you can’t figure it out because you’re so hormonal

Isadora Starfighter in a meteor shower: She finally fights a literal star only took 10 books

Isadora Starfighter Reunion: RETURN OF GIRLFRIEND PRINCESS SUPERNOVA (oh yeah and some others I guess)

Isadora Starfighter Powerup: Space puberty did her good she gets some cool ass powers

Isadora Starfighter The final journey: Princess Supernova’s talk with her mom made me bawl I don’t care about anything else

🌼 punk-not-dead follow

You have now convinced me to read these books. Good job!

🌟 supernova-number-one follow

Nooo!!!! Don’t read them!

🌼 punk-not-dead follow

You’re always talking about how the fandom is small and you wish more people knew about it? Plus, I may finally understand the context to some things in your 140 chapter fanfic.

🌟 supernova-number-one follow

You read my 140 chapter fanfiction despite not even knowing the fandom?

🌼 punk-not-dead follow

You have a way with words 😘

🌟 supernova-number-one follow

Ew

60 notes

🎤singing-is-who-i-am follow

Happy pride month! 💜 Post a picture of your flag/s

🧢 everythingscominguponmaxi follow

🎧 pixiemix follow

🎀 italys-biggest-bow-collector follow

💍 queenoftherink follow

🎸 beanie-guitarist follow

(Hahaha the bi pride reblog chain)

🛼 rollerskatingonthemoon follow

Sorry I’m gonna ruin the chain cause I’m not bi 🤣

I am the literal ”all or nothing”

✌🏼 arodarmivida follow

😎 rapmiro follow

Idk where you guys are from but I’m from Chile 🤨

#Jim I thought you were spanish #is that a region of spain or what

845 notes

📸 felicityfornow follow

So… hi.

I’ve never really talked about this, or really… thought about it, to be honest, until recently.

A lot of my friends are LGBTQ+. Like, a lot. I think… all of them. And I’ve always supported them, and I’ve been known as the ”token ally” of the group. I’ve considered myself straight, because from what I know, I’ve only liked boys. The thing though is, I’ve only really had a crush on one boy. No one else before, no one else after.

I think that I’ve also just been really heteronormative in general. Always assumed my female friends had crushes on boys, I never saw hints or signs… when consuming media, I never really noticed any subtext either. I was very often ”if this female character is shown to like this boy, I will assume that she only likes boys” and I never really got it when people shipped two characters of the same gender if they weren’t dating in canon. ”But they’re only good friends? And they dated boys in canon?” I can also add that, I for the most part consumed media that focused on straight couples. Never, or just rarely, were there even a gay character there, and if there was then it was just a side character. I had barely seen or read any queer media. I hadn’t seeked it out, either. I was just in my little bubble of books, shows and films I liked. And I mean, so is a lot of people!

However, movie nights with my friends have made me get so many new perspectives on things. Our movie nights are essentially a ”show the others something you like”, so everyone picks a movie or some episodes from a show they like, and show everyone else. A great way to get cultured in stuff you’re not usually into, and to get to show your friends something you’re personally into. And I think in the past year, I’ve seen more quer films and shows than what I’ve had in all of my life. And even when we don’t watch explicitly queer media, my friends have managed to put in those perspectives and made me notice things I wouldn’t otherwise. And it’s made me look at movies I’ve seen several times in a sudden new light.

One night, I was the one to comment about something I found queer coded in one of the movies we saw, and one of my friends commented ”You notice so much queer stuff for a straight person!”

We all laughed about it, but at that moment I realized… for some reason it didn’t feel good to hear that I was straight. I mean, I was… that’s what I always assumed about myself. So… why did it feel off when another person said I was?

Everyone around me was queer. I couldn’t ask anyone ”how do you know you’re straight?” because… no one was.

So I wondered… what if I’m… NOT straight? But how do I know I’m not?

I’ve never had a crush on a girl, I don’t THINK. But the thing is, maybe I have, and I didn’t realize it at the time. I haven’t had a lot of experience in romance in general, and due to thinking pretty ”straight”, I might have not considered it.

I know it’s not a requirement to feel attraction to the same gender to be not straight. You don’t even need to feel attraction to anyone at all, because it’s more than romance and sexual feelings. I’ve learned so much just hanging out with my everyday peers.

My mom’s partner, a woman (my mom is a lesbian, too), told me that people out of society’s norms often manage to find each other even before they know why. She told me her closest group of friends, when they got to know each other all of them were thought to be straight and cis. Now, all of them have come out, either as gay, or bi, and even the ones who still are straight turned out to be trans. And maybe it’s true, that eventually everyone in the group turns out to be queer in some way.

The thing is, I don’t know how to label myself. It does not feel good calling myself straight. It doesn’t feel like that’s what I am.

Recently I told my friends this. I don’t know why I was nervous about telling them… maybe it was like I killed the perception they had of me. But I should have never been nervous. They immediately showered me with support and told me, it’s perfectly fine to not have a specific label to you (no matter how much you want to be organized and put people into boxes and categories, like I can be sometimes). Sexuality is fluid, and it can always change. Whatever feels right in the moment may change as you grow, and learn more about yourself.

So… I have a lot to figure out, but I wanna tell you all that I am fairly certain that I am not straight.

Happy pride month to everyone, especially those who have not had it all figured out just yet. Here’s to us.

🎥 rollertrack follow

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜 !!!!!

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HERE’S TO YOU!!!!!! 🩷💕💞💓💗💖💘💝

🧍🏼‍♀️ jamandrollerbackgroundcharacter follow

Tbh I’ve suspected this since you posted that kinda sapphic post about how Yam should win the vidia competition

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HELP I forgot about that-

Anyway NINA!!!!!!!! YOU ARE AWESOME!! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

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We’re so proud of you girl!!! 🥹

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Please let me interview you I need it!!! Omg!!

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Happy pride month to you Nina 😍🏳️‍🌈 You’re so brave and cool

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[tieflingtareon]

My love, are you the devil? (Oh, call me a devil)

Chapter 30 | Words: 7.3k

Summary: Astarion found himself often surprised by his heroic companion. He had one goal. To become the favoured companion of the group, to earn the Tieflings loyalty, to make Tar'eons strength his own. Yet Tar'eon isn't like the usual target of his manipulations. Despite his naivety, he does not seem gullible. There is something very wrong with their 'leader' to begin with. Astarion isn't sure if he wants to control it or eradicate the threat it posed. But can he really do either when Tar'eon himself seems so...unwaveringly kind?

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50668558/chapters/127995079

“What the Hells was that?” Astarion grabbed Tar’eons sleeve as the tiefling continued to walk down the hall, seemingly in a trance. “Stop and talk to me, dammit!” He hissed.

Tar’eon turned to him and opened his lips, but nothing came out. He didn’t know what to say.

“How long were you there…? How much did you hear?”

“Enough.” Astarion scowled. “He had quite the coronation.” His skin still felt tight from the thunder wave the man had downed him with. He hadn’t been expecting it — he felt like a fool, being caught off guard so easily, and that burned more than any wound.

“How much did you hear, Astar?” Tar’eon begged for him to speak plainly and Astarion frowned.

“…You were taking too long. I came up the stairs around the same time he was being ordained. Hells, you even gave your blessing. I didn’t hear much before he was manhandling you.” Astarion gritted his teeth. “If you were so desperate for another lover you could have asked, darling, no need for secrets.” He drawled.

“It’s not like that.” Tar’eon sighed, rubbing between his brows. His headaches were only getting worse as time went on. He hated this. He needed to kill Orin and get this Urge sorted out. “It’s— I’ll explain everything tonight, okay?”

“You always say that! You always say you’ll explain later, and then it’s like pulling teeth from a feral animal, the way you refuse to tell me everything. I tell you almost everything, I let you know it all, and it’s like you don’t care to give me the same courtesy. We’re in this together, Tar’eon. Or should I call you ‘Tir’yal’?”

“Please don’t. You…you’re pronouncing it wrong anyway.” Tar’eon grimaced.

“Apologises, but it’s not every day that you learn your lover has another name they never bothered to tell you about. I haven’t exactly had time to practice it.” He glowered, crossing his arms.

“It’s — Look, that name is my infernal name. I was given it by my- my father, I think.” Had Bhaal ever bothered to name him? Or had he been raised outside of the temple until a certain age? Who took care of him when Father couldn’t? His butler? He couldn't remember anything of his childhood outside that young man, no older than twenty, with white and black hair, burns streaking across his face, black ink consuming half his features. The face the Emperor had stolen to gain his trust.

“Not all tiefling’s have infernal names — depending on where you’re from, a lot of parents will stick with more humanoid names for their children so they fit into society better. 'Tar’eon' is how I get by easier without people turning their noses up at the introduction of a foulblood.” He explained. “If you have both an infernal and a common name, it’s typical for only fellow tieflings or fiends to use it, and only those you’re close with for that matter.”

“From what I’ve seen of him, Lord Gortash doesn't have an ounce of devil blood in him, so why can he call you that, hm?” Astarion quirked a brow, looking unimpressed.

“Because…I don’t know. He knows the language, maybe, and my past self…let him call me that.”

“Yes, you were close in the past. I figured as much.” Astarion sneered.

“Don’t. Don’t judge me for things I can’t remember. For the person I don’t know.” Tar’eon narrowed his eyes. “You think this is easy for me? Karlach hates Enver for all the right fucking reasons and I’m the one stuck here, bargaining with him to benefit this team, knowing how upset she’ll be with me."

"You even call him Enver, Gods-"

"We need his Steel Watch with us, not against us. Not if we want to go through the city freely and find Orin. We can't get on his bad side."

“Orin this, Orin that — you’re so bloody obsessed with her! Why? Because she calls you her kin?”

“Because she’s the reason I remember none of it!” He snapped, hands fisted at his sides. “She’s the reason I’m here, she’s the reason I’m floundering through life, and she mocks me every step of the way! I have never felt more justified in killing someone before for the sake of myself, and I cannot wait to sink my knife into her back like she did to me.”

Astarion stared him, expression blank.

“…I understand. Betrayal - it twists something ugly inside you and it can only be sated by revenge. I won’t deny you the pleasure of your kill. But you’re keeping secrets from me, and I know it. I only hope you come clean sooner rather than later.” Astarion walked past him and Tar’eon deflated with a sigh.

“I promise you; everything. All of it. I will tell you all of it tonight.”

“I hope you keep that promise, for both of our sake's. I don't see the point in sharing myself with someone who shares nothing back.”

Tar’eon pursed his lips. Some things were best left unsaid…but he meant it. He would tell Astarion everything about where he came from tonight. He’d tell all of them.

****

Mizora's words rang in his ears as he made his way up the stairs to the office above. He may lack a stone, but he was willing to take his chances. This wasn't his life on the line - it was Wyll's fathers. He needed to remain one step ahead of the devil.

Casting invisibility on himself and leaving his party behind so suddenly would probably only anger them more, but he did not have the energy to fight them after Mizora's promise of a visit. He wanted to make this conversation quick and return as soon as possible.

He stood outside the office, heart in his throat as he hesitantly opened the door, surprised to find it without a lock, the wood giving the faintest creak. Stepping inside, if felt like stepping into a different life. Something that didn’t quite fit his skin anymore, but still it felt strangely like the nostalgia that came with a childhood home. It wasn't the room itself that was familiar, but the air. He looked around curiously and his eyes widened when he saw Enver.

He didn’t know what he was expecting. Perhaps an array of guards in a dingy office that lacked much natural light, but there was nothing. The room was far more spacious compared to the memory of before, brighter, but still as messy from what he saw on the table, piled in books and maps and empty ink pots, discarded broken quills scattered across the wood. Tar'eon walked further into the spacious area, looking around for Enver, only to find him tucked away at a desk in the corner of a room, partially hidden by a large bookshelf. The smaller space felt a lot more like home than the open area of grandeur.

Enver himself…wasn’t awake. He was sleeping, back to him. He was sitting in his office chair, a leather bound chair held together with cherry red wood, his head propped up against the knuckles of his fist, eyes closed. His other hand laid on the desk, a quill between his unarmoured fingers. He hadn’t considered it before, but the design was likely purposeful so he could still write comfortably. Being a Lord, and now an Archduke, he probably wrote a lot. There was a stack of papers beside him as evidence.

Slowly, he approached, taking in the small space caved out in the large office. It smelt like dust and parchment, and the air felt like static energy about to zap him. Tar’eon wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t been hyper vigilant to magical barriers. Enver had warded himself against being surprised if seemed. A good choice, considering who he was. When he said he had many enemies, he wasn’t lying.

Tar’eon pushed past the barrier, waiting for the man to react, to wake, but he did not rouse. Slowly, he came to his side and laid a hand on his shoulder, shaking gently. He heard a click, and he was slammed into the desk before he could even react, caught off guard by the others quick reflexes. There was a clatter, a ghostly mage hand stealing his blade before he could even think to reach for it, the edge of the mahogany desk pressing uncomfortably into his back, his legs barely holding him up at the awkward angle. He grunted.

He felt something sharp against his throat and held his breath, seconds ticking by as Enver’s dark eyes pinned him down just as efficiently as his forearm against his chest. The clatter he heard had been his cane. He was gripping the golden handle, a dagger hidden within reach at all times. It wasn’t just for decoration or an old injury - it was a weapon. The perfect weapon for anyone attempting to sneak up on him. He should have been scared - but something about this scene felt strangely familiar, like deja vu.

“I tire of your games, Orin. Or are you one of her shifters?” Enver’s voice was cold, calculated, and it was far different from the warmth he had spoken to him with earlier.

“It’s me — I’m not one of her goons, I promise.”

“If it’s actually you, then I apologise.” Enver’s knee dug into his hip, grinding against bone as he pressed his elbow to his throat so he could pull up his sleeve. Tar’eon grunted, fighting against his hold, but the mage hand had a grip on his hair, keeping him in place.

A hot, sharp pain burned through his forearm as the blade sliced through flesh — it wasn’t a surface cut either. He felt it dig into muscle, and he clenched his teeth with a long, drawn out growl. Enver watched him closely for a long moment, blood spilling onto his desk alongside the ink pot Tar'eon knocked over, the cool ink staining his hair, neck and ear.

Then, he released him as quickly as he had pinned him, the mage hand disappearing. He wiped the dagger against his pant leg is a movement that reminded him of Astarion, slipping the blade back into the length of his cane, clicking it into place.

“You have no idea how many times her goons have used your likeness, Tir’yal. Thankfully, most of them cannot keep your form without much needed concentration, but I can break it to reveal beneath the mask. It can be a...bloody process, I'm afraid. So you’re either you, or Orin. Orin doesn’t react to pain the same way that you do though. She enjoys it too much — and put on the waterworks.” Enver sat back with a grunt, tired eyes on the tiefling who placed a hand over his wound to stifle the blood. "You've never been much of the tearful type when it comes to pain."

“What a friendly welcome.” Tar’eon bit out.

"Please, this is hardly the first time I've stabbed you. Wouldn't be the first time you've stabbed me either, if you're feeling daring."

"Why...did I stab you before?" Tar'eon frowned and Enver chuckled, pulling out his desk drawer and reaching into it, tossing a roll of bandages to him. Tar'eon barely caught it, grimacing at the blood he got on the white bandages.

"Plenty of reasons. You never tried to kill me though. I dare say you were the only person who didn't want to. We had a mutual respect for each others strengths."

"I'm rethinking not killing you." Tar'eon huffed and sat on the edge of the desk, wrapping his bloodied arm up with a shaky hand. It fucking hurt. Enver hadn't given him any mercy in his 'test', but Tar'eon refused to give him grief over it. "You need to work on your barriers. If I could get past it without you waking, I'm sure Orin could too."

"She can't." Enver assured.

"You didn't wake when I passed through it. Obviously, your warding needs improvement." He tightened the bandage and grimaced, tucking it into itself. He wiped his bloody hand off on his pants.

"You're the only one who can pass through." Enver looked at him like he was stupid. "I've used these wards for quite some time. My office is where I spend most days and nights. Only people with no 'ill intent' can pass through undetected. I've never had anyone but you pass that requirement. Though, it did take half a year before it stopped detecting you." He smirked.

"I..." Tar'eon frowned. He wasn't sure how to feel about that. "We...really were close, weren't we?"

Enver actually laughed.

"The closest." Enver smirked. "I knew your secrets, and you knew mine. Of course, we couldn't speak of certain things because it would be a betrayal to Bane or your Father, Bhaal, such as the temples location, but...when it came us," He gestured to himself and then Tar'eon. "We were well read books to each other."

Suddenly, his smile fell, expression impassive as he pursed his lips.

"Though, I notice you're lacking carnage, blood, and a stone. I have faith in your brutality, but not even Orin is that swift. It hasn't even been an hour from my guess." Enver did not seem pleased.

"This isn't about the stone. I..." He gritted his teeth. "I need a favour. Or, I'm making an offer. A negotiation. For the future of our alliance."

Enver sat further back in his chair, watching Tar'eon. Examining the tightness in his muscles, the stiff way he sat on the desk. He was anxious. Interesting. He slowly clinked each finger against the arm of his chair, sharp metallic nails a satisfying sound against pristine wood.

"After your fanged friend attacked me in my own home? After you barged into my office and disturbed my rest? Staining my new desk while you were at it." Tar'eon could feel how thin the man's patience was becoming. "You certainly have guts...I would think you stupid if I didn't know you were the opposite. I will allow this impertinence. But only once."

"You've been fairly honest with me, so I will be honest with you." He forced himself to meet his eyes, refusing to look away as he spoke. "I don't fear your Steel Watch. If I wanted to, I could kill Orin, and then you, and it would be no sweat off my back. I have a wizard prodigy, a githyanki warrior, a solider who served in the Hells for ten years, a rogue who can get anywhere and pick his way through any lock, a warlock apt in the blade, two clerics who don't mind a little blood, a high Harper, a fierce druid, and the child of a Goddess. I do not fear you. My agreement with you if because you're useful...and because it seems my past self cared for you quite a lot."

Enver remained quiet, but his eyes were burning with something. It wasn't anger though.

"Those are just the people who travel with me. I have even more allies all over this city. I could kill anyone who got in my way. But I don't want to kill you. That is the honest truth."

"I'm hurt, you said I'd make a pretty corpse once. That I'd be your final grand murder before the world turned to ash." Enver drawled. "I know you have no intention to kill me, not yet anyway, or you wouldn't have gotten past my wards. Get to the point before I decide to make mince meat of your camp."

"...I could killed anyone. Except Mizora." He admitted. "Her fate is linked to my companions. He was only seventeen when he made the deal, but he did it for the sake of his home. The very home you are now sworn to protect. He's a good man. Wyll Ravenguard."

Enver's eyes lit up, sitting up straighter.

"Oh. The son of Ulder Ravenguard. I see. You're making a deal on his behalf."

"I am." Tar'eon sighed. "I managed to convince Mizora to let Wyll free of his pact in six months time. She knows how much he loves his father, estranged or not. That man respects him so much, even when he sent him away from the home he protected while he was gone." He shook his head. "He was a kid, and his father made him out to be a monster, and then told him to leave the only home he'd ever known. The home he become a monster to save. I might not like him, but Wyll loves him."

Tar'eon couldn't understand how Wyll didn't resent him, but the man told him resentment was something he never wanted to hold onto as a person. It was a weight, and Wyll was not looking to be tied down to it. He grew up with Ulder, and he assured Tar'eon that being unable to tell him about the pact only made it seem like he was inviting the devil into his home. Something he couldn't allow as a Duke.

He chose being a Duke over being a father in Tar'eons eyes, but his opinion didn't matter. Wyll's did.

"I know you intend to get rid of him. He's a threat to your status. But by Gods, if you harm him, I will destroy your Watchers until it is metal scraps beneath my feet. I will turn the people against you. I will tell them everything, show them everything. Even if it means damning myself with you."

"You want me to keep a threat to my ruling around? Our ruling?" Enver barked a laugh. "You never did understand the intricacies of politics, my dearest."

"I won't ask you to free him of the tadpole's command. I know you'd never agree to that. All I ask is that you keep him in your fortress, unharmed, and far away from Mizora's hands or any prison you might think about letting him rot in."

"And what am I to get out of this deal?" Enver challenged, gesturing with one hand for Tar'eon to speak, to offer up something that would make any of it worthwhile.

"That's where we negotiate. Name your price for Ulder Ravenguard's life."

"Well, you've already agreed to get Orin's stone for me, so I'm not sure there's anything else I could want from you." Tar'eon was certain this man had been raised by devils, the way he spoke. Every word felt deliberate, yet suave, twisting it around on the desperate soul to get what they wanted.

"No enemies you want me to kill?"

"Unless you plan on going to the Hells yourself." Enver chuckled.

"I can see about it." Tar'eon offered. "We might have a couple common enemies, you and I. Name your devil, and I'll have them killed." Enver actually looked like he might be considering it, golden talons scratching along his jaw.

"...An old friend of mine. Nothing as formidable as Zariel or Mephistopheles, and not your lovely devil mistress, Mizora. His name is Raphael. If you manage to kill him, I'll consider keeping Ulder Ravenguard alive."

"You will. If I kill Raphael for you, you will keep him alive. No conditions. I kill him and he lives." Enver tutted and leaned back in his chair, watching Tar'eon closely. He beckoned him closer with two fingers, and Tar'eon hesitated before standing, stepping closer, the toe of his boot nudging Enver's. Enver reached up and grasped his either side of his jaw with one hand, tugging him down to meet his dark gaze.

"You know, I've missed you. It's almost fun, knowing you don't remember our time as partners in crime. I'd like nothing more than to show you how well he worked together." Tar'eon swallowed and Enver smirked. "Kill Raphael, and return to me with his horns in tow. I'd like to make them into paperweights. And don't forget Orin's stone, either. Once you have both of those...you will join me for dinner." Tar'eon pursed his lips.

"If you're asking me to spend the night with you, the answer is no. I have a lover. I'm not willing to ruin what I have with Astarion for a one night stand. Raphael's horns and Orin's stone, and that's it."

"And dinner." Enver smiled. "That's non-negotiable if you want Duke Ravenguard to get my utmost hospitality and sanctuary."

Tar'eon gritted his teeth, his heart skipping a beat as the hand on his jaw lowered to throat, holding it just as gently as he had in the memory. Like he was cradling his life in his hand, and enjoying it thoroughly.

"And maybe...you can play for me again." Tar'eon sucked in a sharp breath, berating his body for reacting to those words. He knew instinctive that playing for Enver was more than just music to them both.

"...Fine. Dinner, and maybe a song. Happy?"

"Very. You're quite good at this - negotiations. In future though, I think I'll take the lead." Enver smirked and released his throat. Tar'eon stood straighter, thankful for the mans human hearing compared to Astarion's vampiric hearing, or else his excitement would be far too noticeable for his liking. That cleared up one thing at least. Their previous relationship had definitely been sexual, if nothing else. His body remembered its own cues far too well. He couldn't tell if there had been any real love between them; perhaps it simply wasn't possible back then, living the lives they did. The only love they could truly have was for their Gods.

"Now go. I'm a busy man. If you return empty-handed again, consider our alliance mute." He warned and Tar'eon nodded sharply, making to leave the room as swiftly as possible, barely past the table when Enver spoke again, eyes focused on the papers in front of him, quill in hand. "Oh, and Tir'yal? If you happen upon a warlock by the name of Nubaldin in your journey...Give him a good kick for me, would you? Tell him it was under the orders of Archduke Enver Gortash."

Tar'eon raised a brow before nodding silently, making his way out of the room. When he joined his party back at the bridge to the Lower City, Astarion was gone. Jaheria looked rather unimpressed by his return, as well as Shadowheart.

"I can't believe you left like that without telling us. Where on Toril did you go?"

"I was securing Duke Ravenguard's safety. From the way Mizora spoke, I wasn't chancing wasting any time with a fight if the lot of us went back inside. It was easier to make myself invisible and try my hand alone."

"You could have gotten yourself killed." Jaheria scowled. "Do not act so rashly next time. If we are to work together, I expect some communication at the very least. A toddler could manage that."

"I'm sorry. Where's Astarion?"

"He left. Threw a fit at your disappearance and said he was going back to camp for the day." Shadowheart didn't seem to disagree with the vampires actions. She looked rather annoyed by his vanishing act too. "You managed to secure the Dukes safety, how?"

"I struck another bargain. I knew he wouldn't hand him over to us - but I managed to make him agree to leave the man unharmed in the Fortress. Away from Mizora, or any jail cell."

"And what exactly did you offer that slimeball of a politic?" Jaheria quirked a brow.

"...I told him I'd kill Raphael."

"You what?" Shadowheart's eyes widened. "You expect us to kill Raphael? He'd hardly allow it."

"The last we saw of him, he's in the brothel. Alone. It wouldn't be a hard feat if we put our muscle into it, I'm sure. He's not untouchable."

"We cannot expect to defeat a devil without leverage." Jaheria shook her head. "We must find his weakness before we decide to strike."

"She's right. If Gortash wanted him dead, and it was as easy as taking his head, he would have sent his Steel Watch to do so the moment Raphael came into the city." Shadowheart warned. Tar'eon frowned but considered her words.

"Fine...He'll keep his end of the bargain as long as I deliver the stone and Raphael's head in time. We won't strike today. Let's explore the city first, and hope we stumble upon something helpful. A weakness."

"You're out of your mind..." Shadowheart shook her head. "I'm not happy about your deal with Gortash. Not after everything he did to Karlach. But I see the benefits of it; I'll be hunted enough as it is by any Sharrans in the city. We don't need the Steel Watch drawing attention to us too."

"Sometimes you must walk amongst the filth in order to rise above it. I won't say I haven't played the long game before to my advantage. It is sometimes necessary to avoid battle until battle must be done." Jaheria crossed her arms. "Let us go. There is still plenty of daylight to guide us. We shall see to Mizora and her tricks this evening."

Tar'eon nodded sharply.

"Thank you...both of you. I know I've put you both in a position you're not comfortable with. I really am trying to do what's best for us though. We won't have to skulk around the city now; we can walk freely, and hopefully, find this Minsc you speak of and the victims."

"You are our leader. You've helped me through perilous fights and being by your side has given me the chance to live my own life. If it weren't for you, I might still be stuck in that pod, without the woman I've come to care deeply for. You're always trying to do the right thing. I trust you, even if I may not like some of the decisions you make." Shadowheart gave a small smile. "Come on. Jaheria is right. We've spent enough time chatting. We have to-be-victims to find. Preferably before they're dead."

"Agreed. Let's go." Tar'eon turned to his left, almost expecting Astarion to be there, but he knew he wouldn't be. He pursed his lips. He only hoped Astarion would forgive him once he explained everything properly. There was more pressing matters at hand right now.

He would find Bhaal's cultists, his temple, and he would spill carnage in the form of his dearest blood kin.

****

It was already dark when they made it back. They had managed to find a few victims - some deceased and some alive - but no direction to Orin just yet.

"Wyll!" Tar'eon called out as he jogged up to the warlock who was chatting with Gale, Yenna beside the wizard and petting her cat Grub as she listened intently to their conversation.

"Tar'eon?" Wyll looked up in surprise and smiled. "Your lot are back rather late; dinner will need to be heated, but nothing a little magic can't manage."

"Mizora, she's-" Before he could explain, a ring of fire fell before them, Gale snatching Yenna up quickly and shielding her behind him, Yenna's head peeking her head out from behind, Grub shivering in her arms and mewling in terror. Like he knew something was deeply wrong with the creature before him.

"What in the Hells?!" Gale glared at the woman as she spoke an incantation, more fiends coming to appearing from the Hells, dressed in similar attire. Gale sidestepped a ring of fire and shooed Yenna off towards Jaheria's tent, the Harper ushering her inside as she drew her blades, waiting for a fight.

"You always have to arrive in style, don't you, Mizora?" Astarion drawled, arms crossed over his chest, Karlach beside him, burning red hot at the sight of the devils, fingers gripping tighter around her greataxe. Shadowheart's hands glowed with the faintest light, a radiant beam of magic ready to be dispelled at any given moment, Aylin and Isobel at her back. Even Halsin looked on edge, Scratch and the Owlbear cub behind his large frame, Lae'zel watching idly from beside him.

"Meet my sisters," Mizora grinned. "Be my testament, sisters!" Tar'eons stomach churned as she spoke infernal and they repeated her words in agreement. To think the Sisters of Justice would join them this evening - Mizora was hear to bargain with Wyll once more, and he knew it.

"Holy hells..." Wyll breathed.

"Please, introduce me to your sisters." Tar'eon narrowed his eyes.

"Feena, Cirrus." Mizora gestured to each sister. "Arbiters for the Hells, exemplars of justice."

"Enough games, Mizora- ugh!" Wyll held his head as Tar'eons tadpole squirmed, the images of his father in the coronation and Mizora's words to him crashing into his own mind. "Shit. Where did Gortash send my father? How do I save him?" Tar'eon pinched the bridge of his nose. His headache had grown tenfold after the connection. Enough for Mizora to speak before him.

"Sisters." Mizora gestured the sisters chanted, allowing Mizora to present the contract before them all. "Your contract, Wyll. Signed in blood, forged in fire, bound in bone - but...not unbreakable."

"Then break it already." Tar'eon glared. "Wyll doesn't need to wait six months to regain his freedom when you already swore it."

"He'll want to hear this offer though." Mizora smirked. "I'm proposing a life for a life. No contract is ended without sacrifice. The cost must be paid." Wyll sneered at the devil at the sisters flames only grew brighter, ready to hear his answer to the contract and set it in stone. Tar'eon couldn't let this happen.

"Wyll Ravenguard. A choice is before you." It was hardly a choice, and she knew it. "Option one, I show you a way to your father. I guarantee him no harm except that from you and your allies. And you pledge your soul to me and the archdevil Zariel in a pact eternal."

"Don't listen to her, Wyll." Karlach interjected. "There's no use reasoning with devils."

"Option two," Mizora glared at the barbarian. "I break your pact, and you are freed from your duty. Your father dies by his enemy's hand, and Baldur's Gate loses its greatest champion." She grinned at Wyll, knowing she had made the choice near impossible for him. "Name your sacrifice."

"Mizora, you arsehole." Wyll looked angrier than Tar'eon had ever seen him before.

"Choose."

Gale stepped forward, cautiously looking upon the warlock who struggled to make a choice. How could he? To damn his father for his own sake? To damn himself to being a dog on a leash for the rest of his days? To serve the woman who made Karlach's life hell? It was impossible. He either forfeited the life of the father he loved or forfeited his own. By Gods, he did not want to live a life of torment under Mizora's boot any longer, but what choice did he have? It was his father, the man he respected above all else.

"Wyll..." Wyll looked at Gale, the wizard looking almost as lost as he felt. He shook his head softly at Wyll. "Don't do it. Don't give up your freedom for a man who abandoned you when you needed him most. I know you love your father, but his time has passed. The future - the city - it will be passed on to you. I cannot see anyone else doing a finer a job as you would in his stead. Let the past go, and look to the future."

He offered his hand to Wyll, who's eyes burned with the desire to cry. He hadn't felt so despicable since the night he was banished from the only home he ever knew. He wanted to live, dammit. But could he live with himself if he left his father to rot under Gortash's hand?

"I..."

"Break the pact, Wyll." Tar'eon spoke up and Wyll looked at him in surprise. Tar'eons eyes burned, begging the other man to trust him. "Break it. You deserve your freedom."

Wyll looked between the two men, to the companions around him, and he knew his answer before he spoke it. It felt like a knife ripping through him, stomach to sternum, the weight of his decision unbearably heavy as he took Gale's hand and squeezed hard.

"You damned wretch. Father..." He prayed that he would forgive him. In the end, he was the monster who would end his reign over the city, just like he'd always feared. But he would make things right. He would stand in his place and lead the city to glory one day, and make it up to the man, even if he never forgave him.

"Do it. Break the pact."

"Fiat ita." The sisters chanted the same, and in a flash, the contract was burned away to nothing, the Sisters of Justice leaving the mortal plane. "Didn't think you had it in you. Seem's my boy's all grown up. And don't go fussing about your father. You made your choice, you knew the terms...You know what? I think I'll stick around. Not for the greater good, you understand. Just for the entertainment."

She vanished into flames but Tar'eon knew she would linger somewhere nearby. His stomach was hot with anger, but there was relief too. Wyll bowed his head in shame, eyes closed as Gale drew him into his shoulder. The warlock grasped at him like a lifeline. He was free. But at the cost of his father's life. The camp was quiet, a shared mourning between them all for Wyll's sake, even as some companions moved away to give him some privacy.

Tar'eon rested a hand on his shoulder and Gale looked at him with sad eyes, Wyll pulling away with a bitter twist of his lips.

"I spent seven years choked by Mizora's leash. I spent seven years hoping to break free. I never knew freedom could taste so bittersweet."

"You are your own man now, Wyll. It's better this way." Gale insisted, squeezing his shoulder. Wyll sighed.

"I have to believe that. I'm not the Hells' puppet in life, nor its warrior in death. The Blade will be guiding his own hand." He made to stand taller, but his shoulders were quick to fall again. "But freedom will be paid in my father's blood. Tomorrow, I celebrate my gain. Today...I mourn my loss." There's a moment of silence between them all, Gale's hand travelling up Wyll's back and gently squeeze the nape of his neck, a reassurance that he was not alone.

"The Ravenguard name now lives solely with me. I will make it count for something."

"You will make a great Duke. You will carry the same name, but the legacy will be even more grand once we eradicate the Absolute and the brain." Wyll spared Gale a small smile at his attempt at comfort, his horn bumping gently against the man's temple.

"Check on Yenna. She must have been frightened."

"We will speak later, okay? You're not alone."

"I know. I know that all too well." Wyll pressed a gentle kiss to the wizards cheek before Gale left his side. He sighed. "Thank you. For helping me steel my resolve. Even if the weight of my decision lays heavy on me tonight."

"You trusted my opinion on what was best for you. That in itself is a great honour, Wyll." Tar'eon fiddled with the bandage peeking out from beneath his armour, tucking it away. "But this isn't the end for your father. Mizora likes to talk of reading the fine print, but I'm afraid I was one step ahead of her this time." He smiled.

"What do you mean?"

"Your father is still at the Fortress. Under strict orders to be unharmed. I...struck a deal with En- Gortash."

"You bargained with Gortash?" Wyll's eyes widened.

"You bargained with Gortash?!" Tar'eon turned around to look at Karlach, her expression shattered by the betrayal, anger quickly morphing onto her face. "You better explain yourself, solider, or the next devil on my kill list will be you."

"Now, now, no need to get violent, Karlach." Astarion smoothly stepped between her and Tar'eon, casting a glare to the male tiefling. "He will be explaining many things tonight."

"I'm sorry, Karlach." Tar'eons heart seized at the hurt in her eyes. "But I did it for us. All of us."

"Bullshit! What could he have offered to make dealing with that slimy arsehole worth it?"

"His Steel Watch is all over the city. Unless we can find a way to shut them down, we won't get far. He's offered us a pass, free reign around the city, and the Duke's safety. I made a vow - we do no harm to him, he does no harm to us. For now, he's our ally."

"So that's it?" Karlach laughed, not with humour but with irony of it all. "I can't even fight you on it. Free reign, and Wyll's father kept alive? It'd be cruel of me to deny you your family, or our friends safety." Karlach looked at Wyll and shook her head, turning away from Tar'eon. "I'm never the priority anyway. Not unless I'm smashing skulls."

"Karlach, that's not true. You're so much more, and if I saw any other way, I would have discard the deal instantly. But we need to find Orin, get her Netherstone, and stabilise the brain, or we'll all be turned into illithids. You'll be a slave to a new master, we all will. The whole Coast."

"Promise me, the moment we don't need his 'protection' anymore...we'll kill him. He deserves to die after everything he's done to me."

"I..." Tar'eons mouth went dry. He always kept his promises, or at least, he tried. "He knows where the brain is. We won't be able to find it without him. When the dust clears, and the brain is no more...You can do as please." He bit the inside of his cheeks. Astarion was watching him, gaze scrutinising.

"How noble. Choosing your new friend over an old flame." Astarion mused and Tar'eons heart stuttered, eyes widening.

"You- what?" Karlach turned to Tar'eon in shock. "What is talking about?"

"I...Astar." Tar'eon narrowed his eyes at the vampire. "That wasn't your right to tell."

"Someone has to be spilling your secrets, or you never will." Astarion glared right back. "I think it's about time we gather around the fire and have a long talk about whatever you're hiding from us." Tar'eons tail wrapped around his ankle, his giveaway. Astarion glanced down at the action and Tar'eon cursed himself. This whole time, Astarion had known when he was omitting the truth, all because of his subconscious habit. The vampire leaned in close and took in a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"I can smell him on you. Your blood, the lingering magic on your skin, and the ink that stains it is unlike any common brand - it all lingers under the blood of shapeshifters. I'm not stupid."

"He attacked me in his office when I made the deal for the Duke's life - he thought I was Orin." Tar'eon insisted. "He's my past, he's not present or my future, Astar. Let it go. You know how much I love you." Was Astarion really that jealous?

"You- you and Gortash knew each other?" Karlach looked like she had been punched in the solar plexus. "Why didn't you tell me? I- I trusted you when I told you about him. Everything he did to me - did you even care?"

"Of course I did! I didn't bring you to the coronation because I didn't want you to be forced into a room with him again. I understand your anger, Karlach, I do, I feel it every time I see Orin, see the woman who scrambled my brain and ruined me, betrayed her own brother, stripped me of my memories, of all the truths I deserved!" Tar'eons chest rose and fell rapidly, panting through the intensity of his emotions. His eyes burned, the confessions tumbling from his lips regardless of his previous resistance to admitting his secrets.

He didn't care if they could all hear him.

"You have no idea what I'm going through right now. You have no idea about every time I'd held myself back from splitting skulls and choking the life out of all of you! You're my friends, the people who trust me to lead you into battle and come out unscathed, and every day I had to live in disgust and contempt with myself because no matter how much I love you all, I want to bathe the camp in a river of blood!" Karlach stumbled back in shock, Wyll's own eyes wide. He heard the unsheathing of blades behind him, but he couldn't stop. Even Astarion looked shocked.

"I have denied my Urges for every step of this journey, taking the role of a leader because nobody else wanted to be. I thought I hated myself before when I was simply trying not to kill you all, but I damned all of us! Everyone in the Coast. It's all my fault. The Absolute, it's all my fault!" Tears slipped down his cheeks and he covered his eyes, his chin wobbling as he dug his teeth into his bottom lip.

"All I wanted was a family to come back to after all of this, to find a home and restart my life...but my family is Bhaal! Is Orin the Red! I am his. His spawn. There will be no reunion for me, no home, no life after this. I will continue to deny my Father, mark my words, but even I know there will be consequence in doing so. I have damned us all in a life I don't even remember. I enslaved the brain with Enver, and yes, he is the only thing of my past that doesn't invoke anger or loneliness. The only thing that feels something like home. Sue me for being unable to deny him a useful pact. He offered me the chance to rule Baldur's Gate beside him, and if I were a lesser man, I would have taken it in a heartbeat. If only to belong somewhere."

"Tar'eon-" Astarion placed a hand on his arm and Tar'eon shook him off, dropping his hand from his face with a glare.

"Are you happy? There's my secrets, laid bare before you. I let you come to me. Why couldn't you do the same?" Tar'eon closed his eyes and shook his head, shouldering past Wyll. He needed away. He needed quiet. His mind was screaming, aching, trying to turn his skull inside out.

"You- Tar'eon! Where are you going?" Karlach yelled after him.

"You can't leave after saying all that!" Gale shouted.

"Did you know, Astarion?" Shadowheart asked the vampire, and Astarion pursed his lips.

"I knew of his urges. I didn't know he was Bhaalspawn."

Tar'eon held his pounding head, the ground beneath his feet rumbling. He heard his companions shouts of surprise, all trying to steady themselves. He allowed the tremors of the earth to guide him down its slope, disappearing into the thickets of bushes and casting invisibility as he went.

"TAR'EON!" Astarion called out into the wilderness, but there was nothing but silence. He cursed and hauled a stone in his anger, fangs bared as he berated himself. He'd pushed the man over the edge, and now, he was off somewhere he couldn't find him. He didn't even know if he'd be back when the morning came. Astarion ran a hand through his hair, ruining it's perfection in his frustration. He'd been counting the hours until it would come to an end...something told him his hours were up.

Tar'eon didn't realise that this was their home. It was his. His family was here. Astarion had shoved him one last time towards the door of their fragile home, and now he had walked right out and disappeared. He looked to the others who were conversing together, expressions all troubled and worried, a few disguising it better than the others. Jaheria stood at her tent, her swords sheathed, but gaze distrustful as she stood there, arms crossed. Thinking.

Astarion didn't sleep that night. He was too busy watching, waiting, for Tar'eon to come home.

[anewkindofme]

I'm an absolute sucker for worldbuilding and when I was re-reading A Little Monkey you'd mentioned how the Littles ward had extra beds for the CGs- do you have any other headcanons for your littles-are-known aus? Love your stuff!

Aww thank you so much! I love world-building in my fics because it just makes everything more real!

In general in all of my fics…

There are levels of regressing. Some are on the older end or even if they regress younger, they can live alone, drive, etc. That’d be Tim in my “Grumpy Boy” verse. TK also can live on his own in “The Little Monkey” and did in NYC, but he chooses not to at this point as he’s still recovering from all the trauma that happened there. Others can’t live alone. I haven’t gone into it but Mateo can’t. The Terrible Trio in my Grey’s verses can’t. Their dropping isn’t as obvious to them and it effects them more in their older spaces.

There’s a foster care system for Littles that can’t live alone and need a full time caregiver. Most of the time, Littles can choose who they live with. Caregivers can also have their licenses taken away. Littles can also choose to enter the foster system so they can move to other places, get jobs, etc. This is what April did in my Grey’s verse vs Jackson and Alex who were kicked out.

Littles are a protected class. Most levels can work and go to school. They are to be given time off and not be penalized, within reason. For example, if a Little regresses more often than not, it’s not a reasonable accommodation for a job or school to continue to give them all that time off. But, this can be avoided by them knowing their classification early on so they’re not in that situation.

In all my verses, Littles are classified at 16 as that’s when their bodies begin regressing. Same with caregivers having the biological need to take care of someone. Some Littles show signs at a younger age. Potty training may take longer, they may have certain delays. I’ve said this in TLM, but the Strands knew pretty much TK’s whole life how he’d classify so it wasn’t a shock nor really a transition.

To piggy back off my last point, caregivers have biological urges/needs just as much as Littles. They need to take care of someone. Even if they don’t have a Little of their own, they often go into fields where they’ll be helping people. Thus why you have Owen as a first responder, all the caregivers in my Grey’s verses are doctors, etc.

Not all caregivers are good people and most neutrals are not bad people. Caregivers may have the biological need to care but just like parents who may love their children, they are not showing it in the best ways.

Neutrals can have guardianship of Littles (as we see in “Anonymous Ones” with Harper & Jackson) but they need to prove that the Little is still receiving the care they need.

There are people against caregivers, littles, etc. Even some classified as caregivers and littles protest the system. Conversion camps are unfortunately legal unless they are abusing Littles. However, Littles can refuse to go and it’s not covered under medical protection. Most just don’t feel safe protesting.

There are Little versions of basically all children’s places. Medical offices, daycares, regressor wings in hospitals, bounce places, parks, you get the picture. Aquariums and museums also have “Little hours” for Littles to feel more comfortable.

There are nannies for Littles. I want to go into this in one of my verses but most don’t need one given they either only feel comfortable letting family watch them (I could not picture Owen leaving TK with a nanny) or in my Grey’s AU, there’s a daycare right there.

A lot of Littles sometimes aren’t always “big” or “little”, they may fall in between. Such as acting more like a pre-teen or teenager. I write TK a lot like this because tbh, even in canon, he acts like a grumpy teen a lot. Same with Jackson and Alex in my Grey’s verses.

There are Little products and special stores. From cribs to clothes to pacifiers, even high chairs and baby food and formula that can sustain an older person. I have half a Little!Tyler Lockwood fic where he has a bouncer and swing.

Caregivers are naturally stronger than Littles, which is how they can carry them.

Littles have more difficulty with sensory than caregivers and neutrals.

There are probably more I can’t think of now.

[dragoncookies]

Fitz Stellar lune Analyzation Prelude

So, this one may be a tad bit long.

So, I am going to make a series dissecting Fitz in Stellarlune. This is the lens through which I look at Fitz, for context. 

Stellarlune was definitely...something, for Fitz. It sort of made me realize certain things about Fitz that I hadn’t before and was both on brand for his character and completely threw away his character at the same time. 

Overall, In this book Fitz was completely demoted to the role of love interest and all of his other wonderful character traits were just thrown away. His telepath skills were there but what else is new? 

There was no insight as to how he’s truly dealing with the hatred of everyone at Foxfire, nothing on his relationship with his parents after the craziness of Flashback (haven’t even seen Alden since flashback. Not complaining but), nothing more on how he truly feels about Alvar being partially dead because of HIM (other than that he’s mad about it), or if he still feels that suffocating Vacker Legacy. 

Stellarlune gave many inklings as to how he’s taking things and developed his character for sure, but they felt almost empty and almost antagonized him if anything. 

This is all because of the series being written from Sophie’s POV. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with how Sophie feels about Fitz. Relationships (of all kinds) are complicated, and one of my favorite things about this series is how painfully realistic it is when it comes to the relationships. The messiness of it all is so realistic for how it actually is for teenagers. 

It just...really doesn’t do Fitz any favors when someone who’s a huge DOORMAT (I love Sophie don’t worry) is the one describing someone who can be such a blunt little PRICK (Fitz is my favorite character). No wonder he’s painted in the light that he is in this book. If he wasn’t, it wouldn’t be in character at all for Sophie.

Unfortunately, you have to be able to read inbetween the lines and do some extra thinking to get the actual meaning of what Fitz said and did in this book.

He’s like a riddle that you have to chew on before you get the meaning. Or a taylor swift song. At first you think “this is so untasteful”, but then it gets stuck in your head and listen to it again and again and notice all the touches and effort that went into it. Then you appreciate it, and enjoy it. 

Fitz is so hated because he’s just. He’s an absolute character of a character. it’s hard to remember everything in such an intricate series, but it’s very important to remember everything that has happened to Fitz and what his POV is from the beginning of the series to Stellarlune in order to understand his character. His ENTIRE world is pulled from under him, he’s never given the space to express his emotions, he’s lived believing that his worth is tied to him being useful and achieving things. There are SO. MANY. parts to dissect about him it’s stupid. He’s a mess of conflictions. Family, or friends? Vacker Legacy, or improve Lost Cities? Romance with Sophie, or friendship with Keefe? He shifts back and forth all the time throughout the series. 

Here’s my take on his personality. He’s blunt as heck. Very little thought goes into what he says. He actually becomes increasingly blunt throughout the series. For that reason, I think it’s important to remember that not everything about what Fitz says should be taken so seriously. If very little thought goes into what he says, very little gravity resides in his words. Thinking of all the blunt people I’ve known, their actions and tone and simply getting to know them reveals how priceless they can be. They can be hard to swallow, but loyal to the core and so, so caring. Remember:

Fitz loves to bake.

Fitz loves giving gifts. He even has a mini gift giving arc. He went from giving Sophie a stupid boring pen to getting her new, unique gifts every day when she was having a depressive episode in Nightfall. That painting was a huge fumble though. 

He legit has ten pairs of the same fuzzy pjs. Like what.

He’s really a huge dork. Like, the hugest dork. He literally sat with his sister at lunch for a while before Keefe. 

Rambling king. He rambles all the time. He’s so awkward about it to. 

Sophie has described his hair as looking like a “rockstar”. His hair looks like a rockstar. He just. He. 

He loves sweets. Remember those dry cookies in Legacy? Remember how he kept eating them? Remember the ripple puff he devoured in one bite in book five? He’s got a sweet tooth 

He liked having green spikey hair. Fitz was calmly eating his breakfast with green hair and only changed it because his mother made him.

He likes holding people’s hands. 

Sophie found Fitz reading a TEXTBOOK for FUN in book one. He likes to read. he probably already knew how to bottle wind but he was still readin’ that “ways to catch the wind” book anyways. Just curled up on the chair readin’ it. 

Fitz gave Keefe a pep talk in Unlocked, telling him that accepting help isn’t weak. It was so inspirational and touching. 

He actually sleeps with a stuffed animal. For that matter, Alvar confirmed that he’s a little cuddler in Neverseen. He’s a little snuggler cuddly guy. 

he went with Sophie to get gelato for his friends. In the middle of a crisis. He just dropped everything to get ice cream for his friends. 

He literally has a box of souvenirs he got from the forbidden cities. He got little mementos every time he went looking for sophie. 

He also tried to save a pigeon. Just, he just saw it and had to help it. He got chased by other little kids and probably hit by flying sandals for it. 

I believe it mentions at some point that he had to get tutors because of how much school he missed looking for Sophie. He had to put in that work to become top of his class. Do you know how mentally destroying it is to be top of your class? He’s just very competitive. 

Fitz has a limp now.

He dive rolled to push Sophie out of harm’s way.

He carried Linh when she was tired in Nightfall.

he likes dinosaurs and dragons.

Biana is canonly graceful, so when Fitz said that he catches Biana all the time because she’s clumsy in book one, Fitz was just making stuff up for Sophie’s benefit. Silly. 

Personality wise, Fitz is a very feel-y feeler. He’s a huge nerd and very smart, yes, but he’s very driven by emotions. He’s very dense as well. And prideful. He’s proud of his achievements. Those are just his traits. All put together, can he be unlikeable? Oh absolutely. But, if you just accept his very REALISTIC and well rounded character, he’s a gem. 

With this mindset (in the next post), let’s dissect Fitz in that Rayni face reveal scene!

[herooffire101]

I took a class on Death and Dying, and now I'm having thoughts on Persona 3

So I'll admit that I'm a Persona fan. My favorite one is Persona 3, which, for most of my current followers, didn't know I was even a fan. I've watched let's plays of P3FES (not fully), P4G (fully), and P5/P5R(not fully, but I watched Tom Fawkes stream him playing Royal when it came out fully), and I have played at least a bit of each of them. I want to at least finish my playthrough of P3P (female route) before I even decide to get a PS5 and get P3Reload (and Monster Hunter Wilds). And I had thoughts.

I would like to warn you that this does have some heavy topics, and if that’s not your cup of tea, then it’s okay that you ignore this. I have to get this out somehow, with the thought bugging me until I wrote it out.

This was a thought I had, thanks to one of the college classes I’ve taken recently, called “Death and Dying”. Yes, that is the class’s title. In the course description, it is “A study of the dying process, death ceremonies, and rituals in many cultures from past to present, with an emphasis on Western Civilization.” I know that this is a heavy thing for a lot of people, but I had to take this course for the certification I’m working towards.  This thought came from my latest class (at the time I started typing this rant) about how we could talk to and prepare children about loss, and we were given books for children on death, with various ways death could be explained to them. One book had a two-page section on how funerals were performed in different cultures, and I remember reading somewhere, it may have been a fanfic, about how Japan does cremations. I have no idea what the history is, but I can see why. And then I remember, ‘Wait, I’m a Persona 3 fan. What does this knowledge I now know put into context of what the characters went through in the game’s backstory?’ If this is your first introduction of some of my liked video games, hi, I’m HeroofFire101, and I’m the writer of the unfinished fanfic Dragon’s Fool. I currently still have a half-finished chapter left before I post the next chapter and several half-written scenes in the fanfic. The reason why I never finished it is writer’s block. I slid back into more Persona fics because Reload came out and it reminded me about some things. (I’m not talking about it). But what does this knowledge made me have this thought?

It's mainly how Yukari has, spoiler warning to those who haven’t completed her social link, issues with her mother, specifically how her mother basically went AWOL after her dad died in the game and story. I’m not going to lie, I don’t know a thing about the Japanese culture, but I do know is that with how sudden her dad died ingame, (and the MC/FeMC’s parents), how was Yukari informed about his death? These four books we looked at in class, they each had a purpose, three of them talked about death in different ways. One uses animal motifs, one humanizes it, one I think that it should be used for around middle to high school aged children because of the illustrations are so out of place for me (and I never really was into what most kids watched back in the early 2000s). The fourth book was actually more of a workbook on letting kids process their grief (fascinating book, for 6–12-year-olds and published in 1988. I like it). This is where the thought gave me. Did anyone use anything to help explain death to these characters, especially Yukari?!? Hell, even Mitsuru should have been helped due to her being a fucking victim. Don’t get me wrong, I love these characters, but were they introduced to the concept of death after the explosion at the Kirijo Lab that caused the Dark Hour as children? I know, this is coming from a fan from America, but did something cause the adults around them (not counting Mitsuru’s father and Itusuki, they have exceptions for VASTLY different reasons) to forget to help the children. The Teacher of the course, an actual preacher (trust me, I was surprised at first, but also helped realized that he may be the best teacher for this course), said that, with a story to illustrate it, children either get really clinging or very withdrawn to the point of anger at remaining parent/friend/themselves. Yukari is one of those kids who withdrawn herself, and thanks to her mother’s reaction and subsequent actions, distanced herself, probably for the better. Again, before the game even started, we have context within her backstory. As fans of the game, we can create stories using the information given to us, even create AUs of this beloved game. I just want to share this information and thought I had while in class.

If you made it to the end, thank you for reading, and I’ll be haunting the Persona 3 tag. I don’t know if I’ll post more on Persona 3, but I’ll at least read the posts.