#Like they REALLY need you to know she's not physically present for them even describing her 'Cold Nest' and such

[cemetegee]

Could Ianthe see Cytherea's Corpse?

The question if Ianthe could really see the corpse under Harrows bed, is an important approach to her character. Gaslighting Harrow would be one of the most cruel things she's done (besides of the murder of Naberius Tern) In my opinion, there are several hints that the corpse was NOT visible to anyone, and I'd like to present them to you.

But before we start, what is even the "proof" that she could see it?

I love Gideon very much, but she is an unreliable narrator. How does she want to know that? The fact that she narrates the whole book implies, that she can see The Body as well... And The Body is surely not visible to anyone else. Sure, dor The Body, it's kinda clear that it's not visible to anyone else (SINCE NOBODY EXCEPT HARROW NOTICES IT), and for Cytherea's body we have less evidence. Still, Gideon lives in Harrow's mind and can obviously see things other's don't see. Her information is not trustworthy.

Ianthe is also not trustworthy, but that doesn't mean that she didn't say the truth that time. So let's look at the facts:

Something's odd with the body. And by "odd" I mean "really odd". It starts with the fact that it just casually walks through the Mithraeum, when we see it for the first time:

Ahem, Wake, not gonna criticize you, but... Don't you think it's a little dangerous for your identity as a dead corpse, if you walk through a space ship WHERE LITERALLY ANYONE COULD SEE on your way? Except if you... Weren't visible to anybody... And only Harrow could see your for some reason...

The next thing! It's explicitly stated to the Lyctors looked for it one the whole ship! Since the corpse is an old friend of them, you'd expect they'd have a certain interest to find it...

They shall have looked everywhere, but NOT under Harrow's bed? (To be honest, since they don't really trust Harrow, you'd expect it would be one of the very first places to look for it.)

+ Jod couldn't detect it anywhere? (Well, it's Jod, it could be a lie, but why should he lie about that?) That's actually the BIGGEST hint, that something's necromantically odd with the body. It apparently can camouflage itself from being necromantically detected BY GOD HIMSELF. (Why shouldn't it also could make itself "invisible"?)

One another thing! (Or actually: several another things, that fit in the same category.) Physically things don't seem to affect her sometimes.

Like for example the wards. Why don't they affect her? Gideon seems to think they should. (Again: she's an unreliable narrator, but still, it's a hint)

Or the bone cuffs? You would expect as a physical being she should need to break them to escape. But they appear to be untouched. As if she'd just slipped out...like a ghost.

And let's look on the "Gaslighting" scene once again. Before, Wake-in-Cytherea is described as walking very clumsily:

How can she silently disappear, suddenly, in the three minutes Harrow needs to calm down in the bathroom? (Like THIS!) Something's off with the disappearing, that's for sure.

And there's also the last thing, which is actually what brought me on the Cytherea-wasn't visible train. Let's assume for a moment that Ianthe does lie about the corpse to Harrow, okay? That she CAN see it, and that she intends to invalidate Harrow's experience to make Harrow believe her perceiving wasn't trustworty. What's exactly was gaslighting is btw! (Although it's really questionable why she should do that, since Harrow obviously already doesn't believe that, one, and second... You would think that such a mysterious walking corpse is a HEAVY security risk - not only for Harrow, but also for Ianthe! - so that she better should accept it's existence if she'd see it. But okay.) If she wants to do that, why does she try to validate Harrow's perceiving in a scene before? Hm?

What she says means very much. "I believe you that the corpse HAS been moving. (I believe YOU!) But it doesn't have to be such a sinister thing as you think. Maybe there's a completely harmless explanatation for it (Like necrophilia.)" It's a try to calm her down and reassure her. How does that fit together with the destabilising of gaslighting? It doesn't fit at all...

To conclude: I believe the corpse WAS there. I mean, it must have gone somewhere after the strike on ""Ortus"", and why shouldn't the location be under Harrow's bed? But I'm not so sure, to not say that I doubt that the corpse was visible to anybody. There are just...to many strange things. I couldn't really explain what she did (someone else suspected different layers of the River as an explanatation, what I find very interesting - if you have an other theory: go ahead! I'm very interested to see it) but I really think she did something. Some things only make sense if she was either very careless or invisible and some things absolutely don't make sense without anything being strange about her.

But how to interprete Ianthe's expression during what she says (which could btw another point for the theory that the corpse wasn't visible)? I've often heard people say that Ianthe would lie about the corpse, because she thinks it would be funny to gaslight Harrow. But I ask you: does she look as if she had fun here?

My personal theory is... That she is concerned. And probably specifically concerned about her participation on the lobotomy. I mean, imagine you had played around in someone's brain with some sharp tools... Wouldn't you be concerned you've BROKEN something, if that someone would suddenly start to come up corpses which ""don't exist""? It's even a concernment she tells Harrow before. An outcome, she WOULD NOT LIKE:

I am very sure she thinks - what's not true, but I think she thinks it! - that she has damaged something permanently in Harrow's brain. (During the lobotomy.) But she can't say that, because of her vow and the Sewn Tongue. (And maybe a little bit of shame, if life is fair.)

PS: if you have any other theory, feel free to share it!

The majority said I should make this post, and I bow to the majority! I remember there was a post which included some of these points, but it seems to be gone. I feared mine could become too similar (although these *are* my points), but now that I've done it I see, that it's not so similar at all. (If someone gives me the link, I can paste it in [place where I'd paste it in]).

[bonefall]

If Brambleclaw was written like that in PO3 as an example of a "good" father, was kind of light was Squirrelflight shown in as the three's mother?

It shifts over the course of the arc. In the first two books, she's FIRMLY strict and distant. I have mostly negative feelings about it. In The Sight and Dark River, they are trying to "foreshadow" the big reveal by showing Squilf as if she's less of a mom to her kids than the "nurturing" women who birthed their own.

While she has a pretty equal mix of moments where she's being supportive or harsh when you tally them, a LOT of emphasis is put on how she doesn't seem to like being in the nursery, how her job "keeps her away" from her children, and how she's short with them when they're just being kids in public.

Even crashes this one moment where Brambleclaw is just... playing with them before a Gathering. Leafpool is also compared to Squilf often, notably more fretful or concerned for the Three. It's frustrating-- they're trying to contrast her to them.

It's Outcast that starts to really tip the scales, though. She gets about 2 harsher moments with her kids on average in Outcast and Eclipse, outweighed by LOTS of times they're having emotional scenes. The way I LIKE to read this is that Squilf is a better parent to older kids and that it just took her some time to hit that stride.

I feel like that makes a lot of sense for her as a character. She's not a nurturer, she's a negotiator. Physically active and excitable, guiding a teenager through their adolescence just comes more naturally to her.

(though it stays frustrating that they wrote such horseshit like Squilf constantly snapping at... kittens playing, mostly so Brambleclaw can look so special and perfect in comparison.)

The more cynical side of me, though? I think it struck them that The Fire Scene wouldn't be as emotionally impactful if she meant what she said to Ashfur; "Go ahead, kill them, they're not my biokids so I don't care." She has to LOVE them to feel pain at their fury. So as the books progressed they wrote waaaay less "Nasty Squilf Moments" like in Books 1 and 2. We don't even GET one in Long Shadows, until the Fire Scene itself.

And also, I think they realized that having that Fire Scene sentiment NOT be a lie, when she raised them from birth, would be super fucked up. In a bad way. I don't think even the Erins are THAT shortsighted. I'm glad they didn't.

She spends all of Sunrise wracked by guilt though, even before the Gathering Reveal. The climax of the arc is really fixated on how miserable her and Leafpool feel, and that's kinda the point. The story was building to this moment where the family crumbles apart.

[writers-potion]

Hi! I would like to ask if you could possibly give any tips on how to properly manage to introduce characters ?

Techniques for Character Introduction

There are many things you can consider for an impactful character introduction:

The Point of View of your novel

Whether your character is a POV character or not

The tone of your novel

What your character is like

In-Medias-Res

Immediately show the character in the middle of action.

Character(s) come into the scene running, fighting, laughing - whatever it is.

Good for leaving an impression

Could be an in-medias-res hook in the very opening of your novel, to introduce the main character.

Choose an action that "defines" the character. Perhaps it's something they do repeatedly (going to the gym at 5am every morning) or that shows a key part of their personality (digging through a large pile of laundry because they cannot keep their room clean)

Dialogue - Voice First

The character makes a voice entrance before we "see" them physically appear.

It helps the readers define the relationship between the character being introduced and the character that we've been following.

From Dan Brown's <Digital Fortress>:

"David?" "It's Strathmore," the voice replied. Susan slumped. "Oh," She was unable to hide her disappointment. "Good afternoon, Commander." "Hoping for a younger man?" The voice chuckled. "No, sir," Susan said.

In these few lines, we already know (1) Strathmore is Susan's boss, (2) quite high-ranking in some military/governmental/secret agency (commander??) (3) is male (4) has a sense of humor (5) seems to be quite friendly with his employees, etc.

By using phone conversations, you can also show how the POV/main character truly feels about the character on the phone - there's no need to make appearances. Perhaps they frown, or attempt to throw their phone on the wall in frustration while the other talks.

Via Another Character

This is where characters in the story talk about the characters even before they are introduced.

Often used with villains/characters with popularity in the story world.

Example: "You've heard of Joe, of course."/ "I'm sorry, who?" /"The president of Book Club? Red hair, freckles?"

Simple Intro with direct characterization

Sometimes, just writing a brief description about the character can be effective, especially if you have some backstory that really, really need to be there before the readers start following the character.

Here's a passage from Leigh Bardugo's <The Familiar>:

"Dona Valentina had been raised by two cold, distracted parents who felt little towards her beyond a vague sense of disappointment in her tepid beauty and the unlikelihood that she would make a good match. She hadn't. Don Marius Ordono possessed a dwindling fortune..."

The key here: provide interesting detail. There's no fun in saying, "Dona Valentina wasn't too pretty, so she had to marry Don Marius Ordono with little wealth." An image of a girl neglected by her parents and bartered for wealth is much more captivating.

Slow & Mysterious Setup

This one is harder to execute than the others on this list, but when done properly, it can produce a beautiful effect where the readers know who you're talking about without you ever having to name them.

An excellent example of this is how Marcus Zusak introduces Death (with capital D, who's the narrator of the story):

"I could introduce myself properly, but it's not really necessary. You will know me well enough and soon enough, depending on a diverse range of variables."

"Your soul will be in my arms." "I will carry you gently away."

Death continues to talk about his "job" like the above until it becomes enough for the reader to catch on.

Drop enough hints for your readers to recognize the character

Works best with an archetypal character - devil, vampire, demon, angels...some figure with distinct features that even when described mysteriously, will be noticeable.

Showing Attitude - For POV characters

Present a peculiar line of thought or show some attitude that makes the character immediately interesting.

This works wonderfully with POV characters - by giving the reader a crucial piece of the POV character's mindset to set the overall tone of the novel.

From Rick Riordan's <Percy Jackson and the Lightening Thief>:

"Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood. If you're reading this because you think you might be one, my advise is: close this book right now."

Percy (the POV character) goes on a bit like this before we get his name, etc. in the subsequent section.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! Also, join my Tumblr writing community for some more fun.

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 15: What Do You Know About Love?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter fifteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 6.5K (I got carried away again)

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing, Angst, Crying,  Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Present Day *Reader POV*

The shopping bags that hung from your arms would have been heavy for the average person, but for you it seemed like a bag full of pillows. It was the day after you saw Rosemary and said goodbye. Despite the almost excruciating hangover you had this morning, because it'd been almost forty years since you last had a drink, you dragged yourself to the mall to try and find outfits for your trip to Russia. You were satisfied with the few outfits you found, but you were worried because the plane left in a few hours and you were no where near ready.

Mentally or physically.

As much as you wanted to go help Ben, you still were apprehensive about the whole situation, not just about going in blind, but wondering what the hell you were going to do when you saw Ben. You wanted to hold on to your anger, but you were afraid that the moment you looked into his green eyes you would forgive him.

I am not going to forgive him. I'm going to break him out then tell him to fuck off and I never have to see him ever again.

Despite your apprehension, you knew that you had to do this, that you had to go help him even if you still hated him because you couldn't bear the thought of the boy you grew up with being tortured over there all alone. It was the alone part that hurt the most. You knew how much Ben hated being alone. He never had to say it out loud, but all the time you'd spent together in your bedroom before and after the injection spoke volumes.

Of course you still had no idea where you were going, but figured that if you went to the Kremlin you could get some answers, which meant you'd either have to lie your way in or just kill anyone in your path. Which would be messy, but necessary. You try to shake off the guilt of exposing yourself again and what that could mean for Rosemary and Lou. You made sure that Rosemary knew to pack a bag for herself and for Lou and told her to wait for your call.

You wanted to be there to escort them out of the city, didn't want to split up and have them get snagged while you were waiting for them at the rendezvous point, so you told Rosemary to take a few days off and lay low.

When you get to the outside door of your apartment building toting the bags, you notice that it's been broken, as if someone tried to pull it off its hinges.

Well that's great. Hopefully the building manager noticed that.

Your mind drifts back to Ben as you step into the elevator.

What if he isn't alive when I get there? It was an unwelcome thought, but it meant that you wouldn't have to talk to him.

 Maybe if I knock him out when I get there and just leave him in a Russian motel somewhere, I won't have to talk to him. You pause. Will he want to talk to me? 

The memory of the last time you spoke flashes through your mind bringing an unmeasurable amount of rage and heartbreak back over your body. The dam you built to keep out everything that happened was reaching capacity, especially given the recent events with Countess, and you knew that the moment you saw Ben it was going to burst open. You hoped that you'd be able to keep it together long enough to get out of the lab or wherever the hell he was being held, before you lost it. But it was doubtful.

As you walk down the hallway to you apartment, you notice that your front door is open and you stop walking. Apprehension spikes at the back of your mind as you examine the door. The lock is broken and  door is cracked just enough for you to hear people talking inside in hushed tones. You creep forward and look through the crack.

You've got to be kidding me. You groan to yourself noticing Butcher and Hughie standing in your living room.

Great. Just what I need. Right when I'm going to leave they show up. Guess that explains the mystery of the broken door downstairs.

You think about walking away, of going back down the elevator and hoping that by the time you come back they would be gone, but you knew you had to face them and you still had to pack. So you push open the front door of your apartment and step into the room.

"You know when I called saying that I had something else to say about Soldier Boy, I assumed you would call, not break into my apartment." You sigh before moving to the right side of the counter that divides the room between the living room and the kitchen and depositing the shopping bags on the stainless steel top.

"Maybe you shouldn’t leave your apartment unlocked poppet. Anyone could walk in." Butcher replies with a grin.

"Hmm. Sure. You guys here for more coffee?"

"Go shopping did you?" Butcher ignores your snark eyeing the bags.

"Yeah I needed a few new outfits for my art show next month." The lie is easy, but you know that the sudden appearance of the two of them probably meant you were caught red handed. Of course now with everything that happened with Countess, you didn't care anymore if Butcher and Hughie knew who you really were. "You doing okay there Hughie?" You raise an eyebrow as you notice how his heartbeat has spiked since you entered the apartment.

"Good." He says, but he looks uneasy.

Well, guess he's afraid of me now.

"Huh. And here I thought you were replacing your jacket." Butcher throws your ruined jacket onto the floor between you.

You look from the jacket to Butcher. You hadn't bought a replacement and hadn't wanted to throw it out. You were still hoping that the scorch marks looked like you had "distressed" it. It didn't and you knew that, but you loved that coat so much.

"See, I think it’s a big coincidence that Countess got right fucked after we came and talked to you." Butcher smiles.

"Probably the same coincidence as Gunpowder dying before you showed up here the first time." You breeze with a tight-lipped smile.

Where was he going with this? Was he here to kill me? You think about what Legend said about Butcher killing supes.

"That looks bad." Butcher gestures to the jacket. "You have a little spat with your good friend?”

"Let's just say she said a few things that upset me." Your eyes skate from Butcher to Hughie sizing them up. "If you're here to kill me, you're welcome to try. Oh sorry,  'arrest me'." You make air quotes around the words. "But we both know you're not government agents, you reek of Compound V and the last time I checked there was that whole, no supes in the government thing."

"Wouldn't it have been easier to get this out of the way the first time?" Hughie asks.

"I didn't want to be involved." You shrug your shoulders.

"Then why you'd buy a plane ticket to Russia?" Butcher takes a step towards you, but you hold your ground.

You weren't afraid of him.

"I hear it's nice this time of year. Not too hot, not too cold. Very pleasant." You snap back at him eyes narrowed, before you look down at the antique watch on your wrist. "Look I'd love to have a heart to heart, but I just don't have time to do this little dance with you. So we can either get to the part where you try to kill me or-" You raise your gaze from the watch to glare back at Butcher, but then your eyes focus on the hallway behind him and your heart stops.

Ben is standing there in the shadows looking at you the same way he always has, with those wonderful piercing green eyes that makes all other memories of them be put to shame. He's dressed in modern clothes, wearing a dark green shirt that hugs his perfect muscular chest and is the same color of his suit, your favorite color and the one you can never look at without thinking of him because damn it, it's also the color of his eyes. He looks the same, but different. His hair is longer and darker than it was the last time you saw him and his cheeks are covered by a trimmed but thick beard. It was unusual given that you'd never seen him with more than just a little bit of stubble and annoying because it makes him look even more ruggedly handsome, but despite the piercing way his eyes follow you, you can see a haunting memory of the last forty years.

You're upset that the one of the first thoughts you'd had beside staring at him open mouthed is that you wished you were wearing something more flattering than one of your pairs of paint splattered overalls over an old band t-shirt. You were going to Russia to get him and yes maybe you were shopping for things that you could move in, but you had picked out a particular revenge outfit that you believed would make Ben regret everything he did to you and also might have been paired with a particularly badass set of boots that made your legs look very long. The outfit that made you feel beautiful and sexy was unlike the one you were wearing at the moment. Also because you hadn't brushed your hair today and had just stuck it up in a messy bun at the back of your head.

You're struck with the urge to run to him and kill him at the same time, but you can't move and you can’t think.

Apart of you believed that you would find him dead in Russia, a sad thought but it meant that you wouldn't have to relive everything all over again. Everything that went to shit the last 24 hours you spent together that you relived with Countess the other day and now you were reliving when you looked at him standing there looking better than he should.

Because damn it, only Ben could be tortured in a lab for the past 40 years and walk away looking like a GQ model. I've never hated anyone more.

"Ben?" Your voice is no more than a hoarse whisper.

Ben pushes past Hughie and Butcher, taking careful steps towards you like he doesn't want to scare you away. "Y/n." The sound of your name on his lips fills you with an inescapable amount of warmth.

Traitor. You think to yourself at your body’s reaction.

He's standing so close to you now that you can smell the same shampoo and aftershave he always used and it brings back memories of the nights he spent in your bed with you laughing and talking like nothing had changed making you feel alive again for the first time in forty years. Before everything went into the blender set to puree.

Ben's eyes trace your body like he can't believe you're standing in front of him making you wish again that you're wearing the outfit you picked out so that you could look as good as he does. And just as he raises his hand towards your face you remember why you hated him, remember that night, remember what Countess said that caused her to lose her head.

Your hand flashes out so quick you don't think Ben notices it until it lands with a resounding slap against his cheek that sends him reeling back from you. Your strengths were similar, almost identical, and if he hadn't been invulnerable it would have ripped his perfect jaw from his face.

"What the fuck was that for?" Ben snaps, green eyes blazing as he looks back at you.

"You've got some nerve coming back here after all these years." You spit, the anger rising in your chest with wings of fury that beat against your ribcage. "Did you really think that you could just say my name again and make me forget everything that happened Benjamin? I am not one of those trashy women that you used to fuck and the fact that you think you can show up here, give me the fucking puppy dog eyes, and think that I’ll swoon, is ridiculous!”

There goes the dam.

Your gaze levels on Hughie and Butcher who look just as stunned. "And you two. Why did you bring him here? I didn’t want any part of this!”

"Why did you pretend to be dead!" Hughie shouts back.

"Did you think that maybe that was me trying to tell you that I didn't want to be involved? Or are you two just that fucking stupid?"

"Why did you buy a plane ticket then?" Butcher asks again, raising an eyebrow.

Ben is watching you with anger burning in his eyes. It's difficult for you to look at him. Every time you do you think about your last night together, the morning after when he pushed you away, and finally the night where he ripped out your heart and stomped all over it.

How did I ever think I could look at him again when I got him out of Russia?

"Because even though I hate him. He doesn't deserve that. The Ben I knew would have come to get me, and I wasn't going to leave him to rot in some fucking Russian prison." You snap back. "Now get out of my apartment."

"Sweetheart-" Ben begins to say.

"No. No. No. I don't want to hear it from you. Nothing you can say can make this better. I’m glad you’re free or whatever, but go. Get out." You push past him, but Ben's hand flashes out and grabs your wrist with enough force that you feel the bruising of your skin.

"No." He towers over you.

"Let. Me. Go." Your eyes narrow shifting to bright purple. The entire room begins to tremble, the glass windows shake in their panes and the glass jars full of paint brushes on your studio table begin to clink against one another. But he doesn't remove his hand.

"Not until you listen." Ben's own green eyes have hardened into a emerald.

You latch onto the wrist that is holding you and break his grip, before spinning and throwing him backward across the room away from you. Ben's body flies past Hughie and Butcher who watch with wide eyes as he hits the back of the couch and pinwheels over it with a loud thud as he lands on the cushions. You would have rather thrown him into the brick living room wall, but you restrained yourself.

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say Benjamin. You said enough that night and apparently you were saying lots of things to Countess about me. So get out." Your eyes skate across Butcher and Hughie. "All of you."

Hughie is still watching you with wide eyes, like he can't believe that just happened.

Join the club kid.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Ben shouts, standing from the couch and straightening his clothes. You don't need to be a psychic to know how angry he is. In fact, you're surprised he's not throwing you out the window or at least throwing a punch. Ben didn't tolerate it when anyone put him in his place and it definitely looks like it's taking him an extreme amount of effort not to attack you, given the way his hands are clenched into fists and the way his jaw is tensed so tightly you can see the muscle flexing.

"She told me what you said about me. That you threw me a pity fuck because you felt sorry for me, that you were bored when we had sex because I was so inexperienced."

"It's not true."

"Isn’t it?" You're trying desperately not to cry, but the angry tears have already begun to well up in your eyes. "The last thing you sad to me was that I was pathetic and that you never would love me, never could love me. That you fucked me because you felt bad for me and you wished I would just fuck off. That I was just another warm pussy and that I meant nothing to you. So forgive me for not believing you."

"Oh shit." Butcher mutters under his breath.

"Damn." Hughie echoes.

"I know what I said to you, Y/n. I've spent the past 40 years regretting it-" Ben begins to say, but you interrupt him.

"Oh I'm so sure. The Great Soldier Boy actually has a conscience, let me just alert the media." You spit back. "Oh wait, sorry you wouldn't want that getting out would you Ben? Because that would mean you aren't a man."

"Y/n-" He growls.

"You don't get to come in here and apologize and act like you did nothing wrong. You're not here because you feel sorry, you're here because you want me to dote on you, to follow you around and give a shit like I did for 40 fucking years.”

“Y/n-“

"Stop saying my name like that!" You shout and the glass sugar dish on the counter flies off the counter and smashes into the floor sending shards of glass everywhere.

Hughie flinches.

"Like what?" Ben exclaims.

"Like you care." You cross your arms over your chest staring him down because you don't want to keep crying.

"I do fucking care about you-" Ben snaps running his hand through his dark hair frustrated.

"No you don't. You never did. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

"Yes I do."

"Please stop talking."

"What else do you want me to say?" Ben shouts back, moving towards you. "I'm trying to fucking apologize-"

"I don't want you to say anything and I don't want to hear your half-assed apology! I want you to leave. You and your creepy friends." You gesture back to where Hughie and Butcher are watching with open mouths, who are unsure if they should leave or watch the show.

"They're not my friends."

"And neither am I! Which means I don’t have to listen to anything you have to say!”

"Y/n please-" His teeth are gritted together.

“I'm not some fangirl Ben. I was your friend, your friend before any of this. Before any of this fucking supe shit. I cared about you. I had been in love with you since I was 8. I had taken care of you since the night we met." More tears squeeze down your cheeks as a lifetime of happy memories before everything went down the drain wash over you. The wonderful times you'd shared together at the park, in your bedroom back in Philadelphia, dancing in the dancehall,  at baseball games and Ben walking you home all the while you wobbled down the street drunkenly and sang off key. All the blissful little moments that you thought maybe he felt the same way about you and then followed by the moments you spent together the night of your birthday, when you felt more special and loved than you'd ever had. It makes the knife he stuck in your back even sharper. 

"That night we spent together meant everything to me. I thought it was special and I thought you loved me. But you don't. You just fucked me because you were bored and you found the first person who said yes.” Your body turns away, but he grabs you by the shoulders to make you look at him.

"I do love you damnit!" He shouts. "I didn't want to-" Ben's jaw clenches in frustration, looking back at Butcher and Hughie. "Can you two just fuck off?"

"I wish you all would." You say, trying to loosen his grip on your shoulders, but he doesn't let go. You think about throwing him across the room again, because it made you feel a lot better.

"Fine. We'll be outside." Butcher says tugging Hughie away.

"Are you sure?" Hughie asks looking from you to Ben as if he's worried to leave the two of you alone.

"You want to be here? Because they're either going to kill each other or start fucking." Butcher responds.

"We are not going to start-" You begin, but they're already out the front door of your apartment leaving you alone with Ben, who is still holding on to your shoulders.

"Please listen to me." Ben says looking deep into your eyes. "When you said that you loved me it-" He stops looking for the right word as if he can't say the next ones that come out of his mouth. "Oh fuck it, it fucking scared me. Okay?  It scared me, Y/n, and damnit I'm not a pussy! I'm not afraid of anything!"

“Oh no you could never be a pussy could you? Soldier Boy could never admit that he had real feelings for someone.” Your voice wobbles, tears trailing down your cheeks as you poke him in the chest to emphasize every word. “And now you’re just saying what I want to hear, because you want to have another quick fuck!” You push your hands against his chest trying to push him off of you, but he won't let go. "You're just saying it because its been forty years since you had sex and you thought, huh might as well find the most pathetic person I know, Y/n won't say no if I pretend to be everything she wanted again."

He doesn't mean it. He doesn't love me.

"I’m not lying to you! And I’m not pretending! I wasn't pretending that night either!” Ben roars so loudly you flinch. “That night I felt things with you that I had never felt with anyone else. It wasn't cheap sex or a quick fuck-" His jaw tightens as if he's embarrassed to admit it. "Damn it.” His teeth are gritted together. “We made love. I understood that when I woke up the next morning and I was happy to be there with you. I knew that I loved you and I wanted to tell you, but I fucked it all up instead. I fucked Countess because I was scared of what loving you meant. But I’m ready now, I’m not scared anymore. I love you!”

He's saying everything you always wanted him to, but you're scared. Scared that he's just saying it, that he thinks it's what you want to hear and this is the only way that he can get you back into his life because he needs someone to follow him around, because he can't be alone.

You stand there for a minute taking in his stance. His head is slightly bowed in shame, shoulders tight, body leaning towards you. But then you catch his eye, you see the sorrow, frustration, and pain in his gaze. Ben was not big on sharing feelings and for him to admit all of these things aloud was shocking enough without the obvious emotions flashing in his eyes. It was so different than the stoic or pissed off attitude he usually had when he was Soldier Boy. The look in his eyes is so earnest and Ben has never been a good liar, not to you anyway. You always knew what he was thinking.

If I forgive him then what does that mean? I forget the past 40 years like they never happened? I forget all the tears when he broke my heart? Forget how broken I was? How broken I still am?

You think of all the times you missed him, all the times you forgot about what he said to you and remembered the good, all the times you wanted him there with you and Rosemary because you knew he would love to be there. All the early memories together, all the missions, everything that lead up to the falling out and Ben’s supposed death. Ben's admission of guilt and his confession of love for you was shocking. Especially because the Ben you knew 40 years ago would have rather dropped dead than say the words "make love."

No. I won't give in. I can't do this, I can't do this all over again. I was better, I was moving on, he doesn't have the right to come here and mess up my life all over again.

"No." You shout, shoving him away with all your strength. Ben stumbles backward, his eyes wide as if he wasn't expecting you to push him away, because of course he wasn't. “You don’t know anything about love. You’re just saying that because you know it’s what I want to hear, what I’ve always wanted you to say to me.”

He still doesn't understand how much he hurt me. And he doesn't deserve my forgiveness.

“I’m not just saying that, it’s true. Please y/n-“

"I don't believe you. And when I said I never wanted to see you ever again I wasn't lying. So get out Ben!" You shout.

"No. I love you and I'm not leaving." Ben says back determined.

You weren't prepared for what those words did to you. You weren't prepared for the floodgate of emotions that exploded the moment those words passed through his lips or the way it felt like you were being tugged in two different directions. Because despite wanting to throw him across the room again, those three little words made you want to run into his arms and hold him close, made you want him to take you to bed and make you forget all the shitty things that happened forty years ago, make it like he never left.

But you couldn't do it. As much as you wanted to forgive him, you couldn't because you didn't trust him anymore, you didn't trust that he could give you what you wanted.

“Too bad! I won’t do this to myself again. All I did was care about you, help you. I stood by you and made excuses for the person you became and I held on to this picture of the boy you used to be. The one I fell in love with. The one that used to climb in my window when things were hard. The one that took me to my first baseball game. The one who danced with me. The one that made me feel like less of a freak because he understood me. And the one that begged me to leave Howard and everything I knew and come with him. That night we were together I saw that boy again.  I loved that boy. I would have done anything for him and I did. But he’s not here anymore. And I hate myself for holding on to him as long as I did.”

"But I told you I loved you!" Ben exclaims.

“Just saying that isn’t enough, not after everything that happened!” You shout. "You're forty years too late Benjamin. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m exhausted and I’m going to go to bed. And I don’t want you to be here when I wake up.”

"Y/n please-" You hate how he sounds when he says it, like he's broken, because Ben has never once sounded that way in all the years you'd known him. You hate how he looks. How his dark hair is falling forward into his face and he looks so much like the boy you used to love that it makes you want to scream, because you wanted to believe that he was gone, but all you see when you look up at him is that boy. There is not one shred of Soldier Boy in the way he looks right now and you hate that. You hate that you wanted to forgive him, that all it took was him looking like at you like that. But you still can't do it.

"Just go." Your throat thickening as you say it, fresh tears trailing down your cheeks. "I don't want you here. I never want you to come here ever. I never want to see you again.” You lie pushing past him and walk down the dark hallway, slamming and locking your bedroom door behind you. Your body sinks to the floor as you pull your knees up into your chest, sobs shaking your body and tears pour from your eyes.

How many tears can I spend on one man? How do I still have any left after all these years? How could I have been stupid to think that I was over him? That I could just go to Russia, break him out, and then push him out of my life so easily? None of what just happened was easy.

Your face presses into your knees. You want to call Rosemary, call her and tell her what happened, but your phone is still on the counter and you couldn't go back out there, because you knew he was still there. Standing in your living room looking too perfect after all these years and saying all the things you always wanted him to and you don’t want to go out there and forgive him.

So you stay. Your back pressed against the door, crying into your knees and hoping that this will just all end.

Because it’s got to one day right?

*Soldier Boy POV*

He hadn't meant to reach for you, but all he wanted was to feel the gentle swell of your cheek beneath the palm of his hand, the smoothness of your skin against his rough fingertips, and to memorize the planes of your face with his touch. You were even more beautiful than he remembered. Your curves perfectly accentuated by a pair of cute paint splattered overalls that made him smile, and your hair pulled away from your face in a messy bun but still made you look effortless and striking. When he saw you standing there, it was like taking a punch to the gut. He knew that he missed you, but seeing you there warm and alive made him want to crush you against his chest and never let you go ever again.

He had laid himself bare before you, allowing himself to push through the urge  to shove all his emotions back beneath the surface as his father taught him, and spoke, instead, the words he wished that he had said all those years ago.

Ben's shoulders tense when he thinks of what you shouted back at him, how broken you looked. His heart falls into the pit of his stomach when he remembers the tears in your eyes. Ben hated it when you cried. He also hated that the first time he saw you in forty years he made you cry, again.

He didn't know how to fix this. Ben thought that his apology would be enough to make you at least try to forgive him, but it hadn't. You had shoved him away from you, refused to let him touch you or comfort you-

Why is she so damn stubborn? I apologized! I told her that I loved her! Isn’t that what she wanted?

He grits his teeth together thinking about how you threw him across the room like he weighed nothing. If anyone else had done that to him, Ben would have killed them, but he knew that he deserved it. He knew you would be mad, but he thought that you would at least want to hear everything he had to say instead of cursing him out and slamming the door in his face.

When you slammed your door behind you, he had stood outside of it for an hour listening to you cry, heard your soft muffled sobs. At one point he leaned his head against the door and wished you would let him in so he could hold you while you cried, even though the thought made him feel like a pussy. He wanted to comfort you. He wished you had forgiven him, allowed him to take you to bed, allowed him to show you how sorry he was and how much he loved you. He wished that you let him help you forget the last shitty forty years that you spent without him, forget what he said and what he did to you that night. 

The harsh words you yelled at him make him flinch, when you told him that you didn't want him there and never wanted him to come back. They were the words that he always feared you would say to him when he climbed in through your window at night or when he showed up at your apartment when you were still on Payback. And hearing you say those words felt worse than anything those Russian fucks did to him. Because Ben didn't know where he belonged if he wasn't with you, he didn't know what to do if you weren't in his life, you were the only thing that mattered.

How could I fuck this up this much?

Ben looks back at the clock on the wall in the kitchen which shows he'd been there for three hours waiting for you to come out of your room, but you hadn't. He knew it was because you fell asleep, he could hear your heart beat, your soft breath against the pillows, and the almost silent sounds you made when you slept. They were exactly the same as when he would fall asleep next to you and damn it he didn't realize how much he missed them until this exact moment.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How do I fucking fix this?

Ben stands from the couch and walks down the hallway for the millionth time to stand outside your door preparing to knock, but he didn't know what to say. He thought that he'd said enough, but judging by your reaction he hadn't.

The thought of saying anything else was difficult for him to swallow. It was hard enough to say what he had to you, but he was realizing he was going to have to delve even deeper to make you even look at him again or want to be around him. 

Finally he goes to the front door of your apartment before he looks back down the hallway. He didn't want to leave, didn't want you to wake up and him not be there despite what you said about wanting him to leave. He wanted you to understand that he wasn't going anywhere and that he was never going to leave you ever again no matter how hard you tried to push him away. But he needed to leave now, not for long, just long enough for him to get what he needed.

He had seen the florist shop on the corner when Butcher drove up. As Ben walked down the street in the direction of the florist he remembered the conversation he had with Butcher after you slammed your door in his face. Convincing Butcher to let him remain in the apartment was difficult, but finally when Ben threatened to rip Hughie in half, Butcher relented stating that he would give Ben one night with you before he came back. That was the deal anyway, Ben had lied, because like hell he was going to leave now that he'd found you again.

Ben wasn't planning on leaving and  even if you couldn't stand to look at him, Ben would not go. Even if it meant sleeping on that shitty couch every night.

He would never leave you again.

The smell of the flowers wafted out of the small shop when Ben opens the door, his eyes skating across the numerous bouquets, each one more extravagant than the last. Other women would swoon over them, but not you. His eyes fall first on roses, but he turns away. He knew that you didn’t like roses, although many believed them to be classic, Ben knew that you thought over the years that roses had become generic and overused. He of course had sent some to numerous women over the years, but he liked that you were different. He always liked that about you. He rolls his eyes when he remembered when Howard bought you some every week.

Because of course that asshole didn’t know what y/n liked. No one knows her as well as me.

The man behind the counter eyes him when he walks in. "Can I help you find something sir?"

"No." Ben says gruffy looking at the displays again, but then he sighs. "Do you have any lavender?"

"Lavender?"

"Yeah." Ben knew it was the only thing that you would accept, knew that it was your favorite because it reminded you of the house your family rented over the summers up North. Ben hated those summers. He'd break into your bedroom and sleep in your bed while thinking of you and reading the letters you sent him over and over again, the ones that you pressed fresh lavender into and the ones that made him realize just how much he needed you.

Those of course weren’t the only letters you ever sent him. When he went to boarding school he’d wait for you to send him a letter and one of your doodles or a small painting. He kept every one in a cigar box under his bed. It was why he was kicked out of boarding school number nine, a fight he had with another student began because the student had found the box and then proceeded to mock Ben endlessly by passing around the letters you sent him. Ben had never told you what the fight was about.

Ben stops as he realizes how he’s going to get you to listen to him.

“Here you are sir.” The florist reappears at the counter holding a large vase of freshly cut lavender.

“Do you have a phone I can borrow?” Ben asks.

“Sure.”

The object the man hands him is not a phone, well not a phone that Ben’s ever seen before.

“I said a phone-“

“That is a phone?” The man looks confused.

“How do I fucking call someone with this?” Ben sighs shaking the black rectangle in his hand and looking for the buttons.

The man takes the object and swipes his fingers across it before handing it back to him so Ben can see the numbers to dial. “Just push what you want and hit the green button.” The man says, looking at Ben like he's crazy.

“Oh. Thanks.” He mutters, before dialing the number and holding the phone up to his ear.

Legend answers on the first ring.

“Hey it’s me. Do you still have all my old shit from my apartment?”

“Somewhere.”

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

N/A: Why not end on a cliffhanger? This chapter is a bit longer, because this week is CRAZY for me and I'm not sure when I'll be able to write the next chapter. But I'm not giving up on these two. They deserve the world.

Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you guys think. If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please let me know :)

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@deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs

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[fen-luciel]

Jealousy part 1

Part 2 here

Warnings: age gap/toxic behavior

Vernestra-Padawan reader/jedi Qimir

I'll update the tags as the story progresses, there should only be two more parts.

I'm not sure how far I'll go with certain behaviors, so leave a comment and let me know what you think <3

(This first part is to provide context, the other two will set the story in motion)

Becoming a Padawan was a lifelong dream. Of course, I was young, so my view of the world and what I would experience in the coming years was very limited. The idea of being taken under the wing of a more experienced Jedi master, learning many more techniques, the missions, the travels, all the people and aliens I could meet... I was bursting with happiness.

Not that the exercises at the temple weren't stimulating, I was glad to have made friends, to have developed a routine with them, but I was ready for something new.

So, when I was finally introduced to my future master, I was bursting with joy. I recognized her immediately, it was hard not to. Vernestra was an important member of the Order, involved with the Senate, and was known for her numerous successes. It was an honor for me to receive that position by her side.

Over the years, I had been recognized as an excellent future Padawan, with the ability to learn quickly, a strong sense of observation, and a positive and kind character that always accompanied me. I was often praised for the way I presented myself to others. In short, everyone saw a bright future for me, but I had difficulty seeing it myself. I was young and inexperienced and I believed that the important thing was to follow the rules, the rest was just a part of me, something I did naturally.

I imagine that becoming Vernestra’s Padawan was just the confirmation of that golden path everyone saw me on, but I was too caught up in the newness to really think about it.

However, I soon realized that I lost the balance I had created up to that point, I lost some friends, some simply due to distance, others were... cold towards me.

I didn't understand what had changed. I would never have accused anyone of feeling emotions like jealousy or anger towards me, we were children. Missteps were normal, and we were taught that it was right to face them and learn from them.

But if you asked around, many would have described me as someone who never made mistakes, who always responded with a gentle smile, a comforting word, a hand on the shoulder, or even just a pleasant company if you needed to vent. Perhaps that was the problem. I appeared too perfect in the eyes of others.

And yet, the Master didn’t make me feel that way. She taught me everything calmly, I followed her every step, she reprimanded me harshly, but always with care. She soon realized how much I sought validation in everything I did.

It was stronger than me, I believed I was always making a mistake, that I was in the wrong. After all, who was I to say something was right or wrong? I was just a Padawan. A child.

And anyway, it wasn’t the Jedi’s job to give answers, but rather to push people to understand for themselves.

Even though it was a concept I found difficult to grasp myself.

Anyway, that’s how I met Qimir.

He was Vernestra’s former Padawan, now promoted to Jedi Knight and independent in his duties, but he often visited us, either to seek advice from his old Master or just to ask how she was doing. I found him very sweet.

The first time I met him in person, I already knew his name. He had managed to stand out as soon as he started his duties as a Knight. Among the younger ones, there was a sense of reverence towards him even though we had never seen him in person. And besides, it was rumored that he was terribly handsome, not that it particularly interested me at the time.

I remember I was in the library with Vernestra, she had assigned me some basic readings to start my future physical training. Young ones are already taught at an early age to defend themselves and to learn various positions, but it was more about building an understanding of your Force signature, learning to trust your senses. The real training would then be individual for the student once they had a Master, so she had recommended these introductory readings on the various forms of combat and their use.

Those were afternoons I remembered with particular affection. Sitting in silence, she would take a more suitable book or bring her work documents on her datapad, and the hours would pass in an instant. Sometimes, I would glance at her to see what she was doing. She noticed every time, smiled slightly, and gently scolded me, telling me to return to my tasks.

I was happy. I felt cared for, appreciated, but not in the cold manner of a teacher with their student. It was a feeling I didn’t quite know how to place in my heart, and it worried me a bit, but I kept my doubts for another day.

On one of those quiet afternoons, I met Qimir. The room was particularly deserted that day, so the sound of footsteps approaching could be heard clearly along the shelves. Thinking it was the librarian, I didn’t pay much attention and remained with my nose buried in the book. Even when he stopped in front of our table I didn’t pay attention. Then, a deep male voice I didn’t recognize spoke Vernestra’s name.

Curiosity flared up in an instant, and as the two began a light conversation next to me, I slowly raised my gaze, the book almost serving as a shield, my hair partly covering my eyes. In front of us stood a young man in his twenties, dressed in the classic brown Jedi Knight attire, speaking casually to Vernestra. His slightly long, smooth hair, a light smile, and dark eyes framed by a chiseled jaw.

It was the first time I saw him. And the first time my heart beat so fast in my chest.

I didn’t know if it was because he was undeniably a handsome guy. I had never been too interested in that sort of thing, and anyway, it was forbidden for Jedi to have too impure thoughts. It was more... his aura. The amused smile but attentive eyes, the neat but relaxed posture... he seemed to shine with his own light. It was what I felt when I saw a member of the council, when I glimpsed Master Yoda in the corridors, reverence, respect, a bit of fear.

He was captivating, and he seemed to be aware of it.

I didn’t even realize that I had been staring at him longer than I should have. He noticed the insistent gaze on him. I must have looked quite ridiculous, a young girl hiding behind a book while staring at the great Jedi Knight, but the smile he gave me right after almost took my breath away as I blushed, perhaps for the first time in my life.

“And you must be the new Padawan who took my place. Nice to meet you, I’m Qimir” he said, extending a hand, and after casting a nervous glance at Vernestra, who was smiling at me, I hugged the book to my chest with one arm, my palm tingling, unsure whether to return the handshake.

Another inner turmoil came with that first touch. His hands had long, slender fingers, marked by numerous calluses, probably from gripping the lightsaber or the various missions he faced. It was just another reason why I started to admire him. I could see all the dots connecting in this figure that represented everything I wanted to become. A Jedi. A reference point for those in need.

I said my name in a low, timid voice, and he leaned towards me with a slight frown “Such a small voice, are you always like this, or am I making you nervous?” he joked, but I bit my lip, not knowing what to reply, I pulled my hand away, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he began to gently rub my knuckles with his thumb.

“Leave her alone, Qimir. She’s shy, don’t start with your teasing” Vernestra scolded him, at which he let go. I hid my hand under the table, clenching it into a fist, my skin tingling.

“Sorry, sorry. It must be a relief for you to have someone like this after me” she sighed but didn’t deny it either, at which I let out a smile and he, noticing, winked at me.

That was the first time I had dealings with him. But soon I began to see him everywhere. When he wasn’t on a mission, he stayed around the temple, so I encountered him in the corridors, in the halls, in the meditation room, and he always had a kind smile for me.

He made me feel special even though I knew it was a selfish feeling. When I managed to study with other Padawans in the library or practiced in the courtyard, he always stopped by to give me a nod. My friends were jealous, but I wasn’t really offended. Qimir was... kind.

It was like seeing the Force alive and pulsing around him. It was impossible not to look at him, not to wish that he would glance at you even just once.

Everyone wanted to be like him. Charismatic. Confident. Everyone wanted to be his friend.

One of the first missions I did with Master Vernestra was another point of contact. Being young, I wasn’t yet allowed in particularly dangerous scenarios, not to mention that if there was one thing I was lacking in, it was combat. I followed the Master almost everywhere, political life was just as important in a Jedi’s path, and I had to understand the mechanics early on for when I would be older, even though they were often more moments of leisure.

The meetings lasted hours, often discussing places, people, and things I knew nothing about. I tried to stay focused, but it was really difficult, and even Vernestra thought I shouldn’t strain myself too much, so she let me roam around, maybe continue studying, or even just take a little break.

One day, ready to depart, we were loading the luggage onto the ship. We were going to spend a few days on Hoth, and I was incredibly excited since I had never experienced a planet with that kind of climate before. As I was lost in my thoughts, a light knock interrupted me. At the foot of the ramp, Qimir gave me a half-smile "Is there room for me too?" I was still intimidated by his presence since we had never really spoken before. I opened my mouth several times, glancing around awkwardly, not sure if he was teasing me or if I was too stupid to understand what he meant.

"I hope you didn’t bring your usual baggage" Vernestra said behind me, gently placing a hand on my shoulder. I looked at her, confused "Excuse me Master, is Qimir coming with us?" I struggled even to pronounce his name, it felt like an insult to do so, as if I didn’t have enough experience to earn such a privilege.

"What, you don't want me around?" he smiled as he walked up the ramp. I squirmed uncomfortably, realizing the embarrassing situation I had caused "N-no, I didn’t mean that—" He smiled even more, but Vernestra intervened again, scolding him "Give her some space Qimir."

The plan was simple: it was a diplomatic mission, and Qimir had joined us to study for a few days with his former master. I didn’t know exactly what he needed, but he wanted her advice. We left a few minutes later, and I avoided the control room like the plague. I only entered once to ask how much longer it would take, burning alive under Qimir’s gaze, then I shut myself in the bedroom and did my homework.

Hoth was as beautiful as it was freezing. But it was worth it; I had never seen such an immense expanse of white, the ground soft underfoot from the snow, the ice mountains, creatures I had never seen before. Vernestra stopped to talk to some locals, and I approached the enormous door overlooking the ice field. I wondered if the entire planet was like this. Did anyone live in those isolated areas? How could anyone survive in such a harsh climate?

A gloved hand rested on my back, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I turned, expecting to see my master, but under the hood, it was Qimir’s dark eyes that looked at me with a gentle smile on his face.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" he asked before turning back to look at the white expanse before us. I nodded hesitantly. Nervous about speaking to him, I bit my lip but managed to gather the courage "Do you know... if there’s anyone who lives in these lands?" He looked at me, puzzled, and I quickly corrected myself "I mean... besides the local species. Or aliens accustomed to these temperatures. Do you think others could live in a place like this?" He let out a small amused puff, "Well, we actually know for sure. There are many bandits or pirates hiding in these lands. Mainly to hide something, you know, it’s not worth sending search teams into snowstorms for a single man" he explained.

I made a sound of acknowledgment, but he continued "And if we’re talking about others... I think so. Someone who likes solitude or seeks peace. It seems like a good place not to be found" At that point, I turned toward him "Completely alone? It seems..." sad. But I was afraid to say it out loud, sadness wasn’t one of those emotions a Jedi should typically feel, but it felt natural to feel melancholy at the thought of people wanting to lose themselves in nothingness, to never be found again.

"Sad?" he seemed to read my mind "You see, emotions are very complicated to recognize. What might seem sad to you might mean peace to others. As Jedi, we often take many emotions for granted, but we often forget to give them context" I listened, hanging on his every word.

The conversation seemed... strange in some way. It made sense. Of course it did, he was older than me, had more experience in the field, and knew what he was talking about. I should have just nodded and thanked him for sharing those words.

I ignored the burning sensation I felt and thanked him in a faint voice It felt silly to do so, but it was the least I could do.

He smiled at me and gently took my hand "Let’s go, we need to warm up a bit. Trust me, in two more minutes, you won’t be able to feel the tip of your nose" he joked. I stifled a giggle and let him lead me inside toward the rooms. I didn’t know if it was because we were both wearing gloves or because of the conversation we had just had, but I didn’t feel uncomfortable being held by the hand.

A couple of days later, I was alone in one of the bases scattered across the ice. Vernestra was in a meeting and had forbidden me from attending due to the sensitivity of some of the information that would be exchanged. The problem was that these places weren’t particularly full of people or things to do. Yes, there was a bar area, but after the third cup of hot chocolate, I was afraid of pushing my stomach to the limit, so I stayed at the entrance, my feet in a pile of snow as I doodled or made small, questionable-looking statues.

I was so engrossed in the crooked little house I was shaping out of the ice that I didn’t notice the snowball being thrown in my direction.

I let out a startled yelp when it hit the hood on my head. I spun around just in time to see Qimir burst into laughter "Why did you do that?!" I stood up quickly, brushing the snow off my head.

"You looked so bored, I woke you up, didn’t I?" he chuckled.

I glared at him with a pout while he continued to laugh, so I decided to get revenge.

I bent down to grab a pile of snow, quickly making two balls. I threw the first one, but he easily dodged it.

He turned with an arrogant smile, ready to boast when the second one hit him square in the face.

I burst into laughter. He wiped the snow from his nose, his smile gone before bending down to grab more snow.

I shouted his name, realizing immediately what he was about to do, and started running through the snow with him on my heels. We didn’t even have time to make proper snowballs, we just grabbed the snow in our hands, compacted it as best we could, and threw it at each other in a never-ending war. Sometimes I noticed people giving us amused looks as they arrived or departed from the base, but I didn’t care, I was so happy that, for the first time, I didn’t even care what people thought of me.

An hour later, Vernestra called us back, giving us a confused look. She sighed and sent us to dry off. I felt a bit embarrassed at that moment, and I apologized for the childish behavior, but she smiled at me and assured me there was nothing wrong with what we had done.

In the end I took a full shower someone had left dinner on my bed, considering how long I had been under the hot water. I ate and, putting on one of the heavy local pajamas, decided to step out into the hallway to ask the Master what we would be doing the next day. I knew she wasn’t in bed yet, based on her nightly habits.

I walked down the hallway on the second floor, where the various guest rooms were located, when I noticed that her door was already open.

I approached slowly and immediately recognized Qimir’s voice.

"I’m just saying, if we block the main routes, they’d be forced to come out into the open" With a sense of curiosity, I pressed myself against the wall to peek into the room. The two were looking at an old map spread out on the table.

"I agree, but it would take too many resources, and we don’t know the exact times or routes. It would take a lot of time" she replied wearily. Qimir, standing next to her, bit his lip before flashing one of his smiles, "Or... we could sneak in"

She sighed again "The point is the same. We don’t have the resources—"

"I’ll go in myself. I’ll cut the power right under their noses, and—" She interrupted him with a wave of her hand.

"Do you realize what you’re saying? Sneaking in like a thief, and then what? Even if I let you do it, they could still escape, and..." He circled the desk, positioning himself in front of her, his back to me, so I barely heard what he said "No one said we need them alive—"

A sudden thud made me jump. I pressed my hands to my mouth, paralyzed, afraid they had heard me "No. Stop this nonsense, Qimir."

I don’t know what they said after that, I was too busy slipping back into my room, the conversation I had just overheard spinning in my head.

Sometimes, as a Jedi, you had to make drastic choices, right?

Or at least, it seemed that way.

I tried to forget about it and went to sleep.

[krirebr]

Welcome to Your Life

Pairing: dark vampire!Steve Rogers x f!reader

Word Count: ~3.75k

Summary: During a drunken night out on vacation, you're brought to a strange club and presented to a mysterious man. Part of Everybody Wants to Rule the World

Warnings: Horror elements, dark elements, mind control, some blood and gore, feeding on humans, captivity, dub/con, SMUT - All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Divider by @saradika

We're All Monsters

Masterlist

A/N: And here it is, the first part of Vampire Steve's solo story! If you missed his introduction, it was in I Can't Sleep Cause My Bed's On Fire. You don't need to read that before you read this, but some of the world-building (specifically how his club works) might be helpful. Plus, it's a vampire threesome, so 🥵🥵🥵

This is also the first part of the new, super-expanded supernatural universe that I'm doing with @paperweight91, playing off of what I started with my Psycho Killer AU. Big thanks to Chelsea for all her help on this and for just how much fun it's been to come up with ideas with her for this whole universe.

Now, where it might get slightly confusing, but I really hope it doesn't. This story introduces a new character, Cutter, who will eventually be a reader in one of Chelsea's stories in her werewolf half of this au. She is not physically described at all here, other than being a woman. I hope it gets you excited about what @paperweight91 has in store for her.

As always, any comments, reblogs, or asks are very appreciated. You know how much I love this Steve. Please come screech with me about him!!!

You were shaking. That was the only thing you knew. You didn’t know where you were or what you were doing there. Not even how you’d gotten there, just that you were standing in the back room of some club, surrounded by people—were they people? Of course, they were. What else could they be?!—unable to move, and you couldn’t stop shaking.

You’d been on vacation with some friends in Berlin. You’d all decided to have a wild night out together but were quickly separated. While tipsily searching for them at a club, you’d bumped into a man, an American, who told you his name was Cole. And suddenly, looking for your friends didn’t seem as important. He’d told you he knew a great bar just a few blocks away. You didn’t really remember agreeing to go with him, but now you were here, in a room full of strangers who wouldn’t stop leering at you. No one had done anything or even said anything, but you knew in your bones that you were not safe. And yet, you couldn’t move.

Cole, especially, wouldn’t take his eyes off you, your neck in particular. You desperately wished for something to cover up your club attire. A woman was leaning against the wall in the corner, sharpening her ridiculously long nails with a knife. She looked up occasionally, and this time her gaze landed on Cole, a scowl on her face. “You know he gets first taste,” she said, before looking back down in disinterest.

“I know,” he said, his fingers drumming impatiently on his thigh.

“Everything has to get his approval before it goes on the menu,” she continued, still not looking up as she filed her nails to a terrifying point. 

“Yes,” Cole gritted out, “I know that, Cutter. I’m not fucking new.”

“Then stop acting like you’re jonesing for your next fix. You’re that fucking hungry? Go get yourself something to eat that actually is on the menu.” Nothing they were saying made any sense. 

He scowled at her, but started to leave the room, and then, suddenly, stopped. Everyone stopped. Cutter looked up, listening for something, then pushed herself off the wall and made her way over to you. She brushed one of her exceedingly sharp nails over your bottom lip. Looking you in the eye, she breathed, “Kneel, sweetheart.” And you were on your knees before you had any idea what had happened. She smiled at you and added, “Be quiet,” and you knew, in every cell, that you wouldn’t have been able to make any noise if you’d tried. 

One of the doors opened and a tall, broad, beautiful man came into the room and you felt the energy of everything change. It was like it was all, yourself included, suddenly charged with electricity. You’d never felt anything like it. He zeroed in on you instantly and made his way over. You felt the instinct to cower, but it was far away, almost like it was behind a wall. And you still couldn’t move anyway. All you could do was shiver.

The man looked at you carefully. “Pretty,” he said, absently. He brushed his thumb over your lower lip just like Cutter had. Then he gripped your chin and angled it up so you were forced to make eye contact. “Give me your wrist,” he said and you couldn’t explain the feeling that moved through your body, only that you reached your wrist up to him, you had to, and waited for him to take it. He took it in his firm grip and placed his thumb right over your pulse point. He pressed down hard and smiled when you still didn’t move, didn’t react. It was like you didn’t know how. And then, something happened, so quickly you couldn’t process it. Fangs descended into his mouth and he lowered his head to your wrist and bit down hard. It was some of the worst pain you’d ever felt, but you didn’t pull away, didn’t make a sound. It wasn’t until you felt the wetness on your cheeks that you even realized you were crying. It was like all the different parts of you were separated. 

He pulled his teeth from your wrist and then licked the wound clean. He grinned at you and said, “You have excellent taste in cocktails, honey.” Then he looked over at Cutter and his smile dropped. “She’s still drunk. You should have known better.”

Her mouth fell open, and then she flung her hand out at Cole who stood sheepishly on the other side of the room. “Cole’s the one who brought her in!”

He was in front of her in a blink, the arm that was still in the air now in his firm grasp. She grimaced. “And you know exactly how good his judgment is,” he growled.

“Steve,” she whispered, just barely loud enough for you to hear her.

The man (could you even call him that? Deep down you knew what he was), Steve, brought his face as close to hers as possible. “When I put you in charge,” he said, so lowly, “I expect you to be in charge.”

She just stared at him for a moment meeting his gaze, then dropped her own and nodded. He smiled fondly, you were surprised to see, and kissed her on the cheek. “You know he needs supervision.”

He made his way back to where you were still kneeling, now cradling your arm. He bent down to you slightly and stroked a hand down your neck. “There’s something there, though,” he said, although you weren’t sure who he was talking to. Certainly not to you. “Underneath everything else. I’ll try her again tomorrow and see how she is when the blood’s pure.”

You gazed up at him, confused, and he gripped your chin in his hand. “You may speak,” he said.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” was all you could manage.

“Oh honey, of course, you don’t,” he said with a grin that frightened you. “The good news is that you’ll never need to understand anything ever again.” He looked back up at the room at large. “Set her up in a room upstairs.” He released your chin and made his way to the exit, pausing as he was almost out the door to call “Cole!” over his shoulder. The other man quickly followed him out of the room.

Cutter came to stand in front of you. She looked you in the eye and said, “Up,” and without thinking, you were on your feet. “Such a good girl,” she cooed. “Follow me,” and suddenly that was all you wanted to do.

The room she took you to was better described as a cell. There was a cot, a toilet, and a sink. No windows. Painted grey. It was tiny. Cutter left as soon as you were inside and you heard the door lock behind her. 

You sat down on the bed and closed your eyes. You felt the urge to panic but it was like your body wouldn’t cooperate. Your heart rate stayed steady, your breaths even. You were calm, even if that was the last thing you wanted to be. 

These people must have done something to you. People, right. You knew what they were. Every single one of them had stared at your neck. Steve had fangs and he’d literally drank your blood. You knew, even if an hour ago you would’ve sworn that was just fantasy. Vampires. You were being held captive by vampires. What the hell?

There was nothing to occupy your time in here except for your thoughts, so you curled up on the cot and tried to convince yourself that it was all a bizarre dream. Eventually, your exhaustion overtook you and you fell asleep. 

You weren’t sure when exactly you woke up. You hadn’t seen a single window since Cole had brought you into the building last night. Because sunlight kills vampires, you thought to yourself, somewhat hysterically. Your memories of the night before were… weird. And not just because you swear someone drank your blood. They were patchy. And yes, you’d been drunk, but not that drunk. Not so drunk that you blacked out small portions of the night. And certainly not so drunk that you hallucinated vampires. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. There was no way out of the cell. Nothing in it that would help you. All you could do was wait for whatever it was that was coming for you.

Sometime later, hours probably, a slit in the door you hadn’t noticed before was opened, and a tray was slid through. Food. You gathered it quickly and sat on the bed. There was a carton of water and a plate with a large salad that was mostly made up of spinach and lentils. Iron-rich food, your mind supplied. The previous night seemed more and more real.

.You thought about refusing the salad, but you were so hungry, so you ate it. It was surprisingly good, but not what you would have chosen for what would probably be your last meal. You lay back down when you were finished, curled up on your side, and daydreamed of something more satisfying than a spinach salad. 

More time passed. You stared at the walls and tried not to freak out. You wondered if your friends had made it back to the hotel. How long it took for them to realize you were missing. Were the police searching for you? Did your family know? You couldn’t help it when the tears started. You were pretty sure you were going to die here.

You dozed in and out for who knows how long. And then the door opened. Steve walked in with Cole behind him, carrying a chair. You jolted up and pressed yourself into the wall. “Stop,” Steve said, and everything did. “Calm down,” and you felt everything in your body slow. Suddenly, you couldn’t access whatever it was that you’d been so scared of. So you sat still and watched him. 

Cole handed Steve the chair and he placed it in front of your cot. He sat down and looked at you. His gaze made you feel so small. He reached out his hand and brushed the backs of his fingers against your knee. A chill ran up your spine, not just fear, but an excitement too, that you couldn’t explain. “Give me your other wrist,” he said, lowly, and you immediately did. He took it in his hand and brought it up to his nose, forcing you to lean forward. He inhaled deeply. “Much better,” he said. “You’re all sobered up now, aren’t you?”

You didn’t respond. You knew, deep inside yourself, that he didn’t want you to. His fangs dropped and you braced yourself, something in the far recesses of your mind knowing that you should be scared. With a slight grin, he sank his teeth into your wrist. The pain was just as bad as the night before but soon, so much quicker than the last time, it was over and Steve was pulling away, his eyes still locked on you.

“Shit,” he breathed.

“What?” Cole asked, from his place by the door. “She’s that bad?”

“No,” Steve growled. “She tastes like sunshine.” He stood up and leaned over you, running the back of one finger across your cheek. “Precious thing.”

You looked up at him and blinked. “Please,” you said, “please, I want to go home.”

“No, honey,” he cooed, so gently, “you’ll never go home again.” As you tried to process that through the fog, he turned to Cole. “Put her in my private reserves. I’ll have her for dinner.” And then he was out of the room.

Cole looked at you, a pout on his face. “Goddamnit,” he grumbled, “I’ve been waiting for a taste.”

“You’re gonna bite me, too?” you asked, alarmed.

He sighed. “Not anymore. I’d rather not face the true death, thanks.” He looked you in the eye. “Come with me.” 

You felt something move through you at that. There was definitely a strong urge to obey that you wouldn’t resist, but it was nothing like what you felt with Steve, or even Cutter, where it was like your body was on strings. It wasn’t a huge weakness, but you were taking note of everything at this point. 

Cole took you through a long series of hallways that you couldn’t hope to keep track of. Cole talked the whole way, mostly inane bits about his frustrations with the pecking order in whatever vampire organization this was. You marveled for a moment at the fact that you were describing something to do with mythical monsters as inane. Finally, just as you arrived at a door not dissimilar to the one you’d just come out of, he concluded with “You’re a really good listener.”

You gaped at him. What did he think was happening here? He’d targeted you, done something to you to bring you here where you were trapped and probably going to die and he thought you cared that he didn’t feel respected enough by his fellow monsters???

But staying alive right now was your primary concern, so you just quietly said, “Thank you,” and let him show you into the room. 

It was much bigger than the cell, but still small, along the lines of a spacious walk-in closet. There was a plush rug under your feet, a deep rose color. A four-poster bed was to one side covered in a big, fluffy comforter that was in a lighter shade of dusty pink and piled with pillows to match. The far wall was entirely made of mahogany built-in bookcases that were completely full of books. There was a soft-looking armchair in the corner by the shelves. You turned back to Cole and asked, “What is this?”

“It’s your room,” he said with a smile. He looked you in the eye. “Now,” he said, and you felt his words travel through your body. He pointed at a door without breaking eye contact, “that’s your bathroom. You’re going to use it now to get very clean and smooth. There are lotions you’ll use after to make yourself soft. There are things in there,” he pointed to a beautiful armoire in the corner, “for you to change into when you’re done. Steve will be back in a few hours and you will be ready for him. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice coming out of you without any conscious thought or effort, “I’ll be ready for Steve.”

“Good girl,” he said, and gently patted your cheek. He stood awkwardly, watching you, but now that the command was in you, you were focused on getting to the bathroom so you could get clean. He was in your way.

“I have to get ready for Steve,” you told him, your voice sounding oddly robotic to your own ears.

Cole blinked at you and then sighed. “Right,” he said, sounding almost forlorn. He stared at you again and then shook his head. “I’ll see you again soon,” he said, stroking one hand down your arm. And then he finally left.

It was the most luxurious shower of your life. 

When you came out of the bathroom, clean, smooth, and more moisturized than you’d ever been, you opened the armoire to find a small collection of slips in different sizes hanging in it. You found the one that would fit you best and put it on. It was black, a combination of silk and lace. It felt expensive against your skin. You searched the drawers, and next to a collection of silk briefs, you found a pair of black lace panties that would work for you. 

Once you were dressed (or as dressed as you were going to be with what was available), you moved to the bookshelves. They were chock full of every genre and category you could think of. Vaunted classics next to dime store romances. Shakespeare collections and airport schlock. You ran your fingers across the spines, when, suddenly, from behind you– 

“If there’s something you particularly enjoy, let me know and I’ll have someone get it for you.” 

You spun around to find Steve just inches from you. You hadn’t heard a noise when he’d come in. There was a coldness emanating from him that made goosebumps rise along your flesh. Your breath caught and he grinned. You inhaled and asked, “You aren’t going to kill me?”

He laughed. “Oh no, Sunshine. You’re too delicious. I’m going to be feeding from you for a long, long time.”

You tried to back up, but the wall of bookcases blocked you. You pressed yourself into it anyway. He opened his mouth and you hurried to say “Please don’t make me calm down!”

His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head to the side. “Explain,” he commanded and you were obeying before you even registered the word.

“I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but I feel it when you tell me to do things. And I– I don’t know. I don’t know.” You wanted to obey, every part of you was trying, but you had no vocabulary for any of what this was. So you were left chanting, “I don’t know,” over and over. 

“Stop,” he said, and of course, everything did. “You can feel it?” he asked. “The compulsion? You actually feel it move through your body?”

The word was new to you, but you knew what he meant. You nodded and he hummed. “Oh, you are very interesting, aren’t you, pet?” 

You didn’t say anything to that, just watched him warily. He gave you a sharklike grin that sent chills down your spine and said “Now, calm down.”

And just like before, you felt everything inside you slow. Your body sagged a bit against the shelves, no longer trying to push your way through them.

“There,” he said, cupping your face in his large hand. “Isn’t that better, little pet?”

He guided you to the armchair and sat down in it, pulling you onto his lap. You could feel the supernatural strength in his thighs as you settled on top of him, sidesaddle, as he took all of your weight without any reaction at all. He scratched his thumbnail down your jugular and you closed your eyes. “It hurts,” you said, your tone surprisingly flat for how afraid of all this you’d been just a moment before.

“Hmm?” he questioned, as he nuzzled his nose along your throat.

“When you bite me,” you said, still so calm, “it hurts so much.”

“Oh, is that all?” he asked and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Don’t worry, Sunshine, I’ll make it feel just as good for you as it will for me.”

With that, he moved one of his hands in between your legs, slowly sliding it up your thigh. His face was fully in the crook of your neck when he mumbled “Feel this,” and you felt the command vibrate through your whole body. The calmness that had flattened you faded away and you let out a little whine when his hand reached your mound. He pushed your panties to the side and slid his fingers between your folds. You gasped as he quickly found your clit, tracing slow lazy circles around it. You tried to grind down onto his hand and you felt him huff a laugh into your neck. His tongue darted out, licking a wide stripe all along your vein. You let out another whine, so desperate this time. 

He chuckled again. “I was going to make you get wet for me,” he said, as his fingers began to prod at your hole gently, his thumb still working at your clit, “but I don’t need to, do I? Or at least, not with my voice.” He was right, you were already soaking, and there was no resistance as he slipped one finger inside of you. You squirmed against his hand and he added another finger. 

His mouth was still on your neck, lapping and nipping at your jugular, but he hadn’t sunk his teeth in yet. He scissored his fingers for a moment, stretching you so good that you cried out before he added a third. They stroked inside your walls, looking for your spot. He found it and you threw your head back. 

“Come on,” he growled, “give me what I need.” He curled his fingers, scraping against that place inside you just right. You screamed as you were thrown over the edge of your orgasm and that’s the moment he finally sunk his fangs into your neck. You felt it, you did. The pain was just as intense as before but mingled with some of the strongest pleasure you’d ever felt, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your body spasmed around his fingers as he loudly sucked from your neck. You swore that you could feel the blood rushing to both places. You babbled as you coasted along the waves of your orgasm, feeling like it would never end. Even as the aftershocks quieted and slowed down, his mouth was still latched to your neck, taking what he needed from you. Your body was fully collapsed into his now. Everything offered up for the taking. 

Finally, his teeth left you and he gently licked the blood from your skin. He slowly removed his fingers from you and you whined at the emptiness. He brought them up to your lips. “Clean up your mess,” he commanded and your mouth dropped open without thinking. He slid his fingers in and you swirled your tongue around them. You tasted yourself, sweet and musky, as you sucked him clean. He pulled them out with a soft pop and wiped them on the bodice of your slip. 

You looked at his face. He still had your blood on his lips. You felt the odd urge to kiss him but didn’t have the chance as he pushed you off his lap. Your knees buckled, too weak to stand. He laughed gently, like you might at a cute animal that was struggling, as he lifted you into his arms and carried you to the bed. He laid you down and tucked you in. “Rest up, Sunshine,” he cooed, and your body did as it was told, quickly sinking into sleep. “I’ll be back for more soon.”

Tag list is open

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @femefetalelevelingup

[ellapurnellmybeloved]

fluff alphabet |clarisse la rue

author's note: Hi lovelies, please send me requests! I don't know what gave me the confidence to think I can write, probably delusion. Also, this is according to my personal views of Clarisse so don't be mad if it's different from what you've imagined. Leave a comment, I love interacting with people, xx.

warnings: I tried my best to keep it gender/race/cabin neutral for the most part but there are still some feminine coded things here and there. English is not my first language so excuse any grammar mistakes.

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Starting off strong because with Clarisse sparring is a must. Although she doesn't like to think there will ever come a time in which she won't be there to protect you, it's still an essential part of life as a half-blood. And who better to train you than the daughter of war herself? And in case the apprentice becomes the master and you happen to beat her or pin her to the ground or even hold your dagger to her neck? Oh boy, she's done for. Actual heart eyes.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

She pretty much loves everything about you, she can't really just choose one aspect. Though, if she had to, she'd probably say she loves you for being supportive, understanding, and patient with her. You understand her better than anyone. That's what made her know you were the one for her. You can control her anger issues and calm her down when she's on the verge of exploding and she thinks that's beautiful.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc?

The art of intimacy or comfort never came easy to Clarisse. Her relationship with her mother isn't the best and hasn't been for a while now and her father is a grade A asshole. Her first instinct when you're feeling down is to fix it, to ask you who or what happened and give them a physical piece of her mind, but that's not always how it works. She'll pull you to her lap and hold you through the night or for as long as you need, wiping your tears and kissing your cheeks. She'll let you vent your heart out. You can tell her anything. Or nothing, if you prefer. She's not the best with words but her actions speak much louder.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

She's never thought that much ahead if she's being honest. Never allowed herself to daydream too much into the future, choosing to live off the present for now. Sometimes, however, she pictures what could be only described as an utopia; to go on such a fantastical quest that the gods can't help but grant the both of you immortality, that way you'd bask in the glory of your love forever and ever.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

On the outside looking in it would seem Clarisse is the dominant one for sure. And in some ways she is; she likes that you can rely on her, she wants to provide for you, yearns to prove herself capable of such. Still, you're the one in charge. Clarisse is completely devoted to you, and your relationship means more to her than anything she's ever felt before. She cherishes it like no other, always at your beck and call.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Clarisse is intense, that much we know. Her anger runs deep and her passion burns red. She's not perfect, and doesn't try to hide it either. She's hot-tempered, arrogant, she's got a short fuse and she holds grudges. Her fatal flaw is pride, which sometimes gets in the way of her good senses, so you'll most likely be the one apologizing first. Despite all that, she can't bear the thought of you being mad at her and absolutely hates fighting with you. It's like it's tearing her apart, especially if you're sad over something she said or did in the heat of the moment. Truth is, she is a fighter at heart so when all is said and done she'll try and make it up to you in some way, somehow.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

She is so appreciative of everything you do and are. As previously stated, Clarisse didn't get much love growing up so any semblance of that is something she clings hard to. She notices everything, every little thing you do for her and the underlying of your words. How you treat her and others is always stored in the back of her mind and she loves to be loved by you.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Clarisse is a very closed off person in general, she doesn't like feeling exposed and being possibly seen as weak. She'll tell you things but there's still some matters you have to pick up on your own and know how to approach them, especially regarding her feelings and personal struggles. She's very honest though, she feels like she owns you that much and appreciates you if you do the same for her. The more your relationship progresses you'll notice being able to read her like an open book because although she does her very best to hide it there's an underlying vulnerability to her behavior in certain moments you'll take proper notice of the more you know her.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Clarisse has definitely become more gentle since you. It still doesn't extend to your friends and family but more so how she behaves around you and knowing she doesn't have to put up that though front all the time. Her sense of self worth has improved as well, especially when you reassure her through her insecurities and doubts (never being the son her father wanted etc.)

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Oh, boy. Clarisse’s jealousy is very fuelled by… Well, anything really. She doesn't necessarily need a motive to go toe to toe with someone, just staring at you for a second longer than she deems them worthy of and she's ready for a fight. It's hard for anyone to get close enough to flirt with you because she's always there, by your side, kind of like a guard dog. But only because she knows how amazing you are and her insecurities do blurry some lines on what's acceptable. She's working on it though.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Clarisse is definitely a good kisser. She doesn't have much experience, if any, but she's a natural. It sounds cheesy but the first time she kisses you was like butterflies and church bells dancing loudly in the wind. The way she cups your face so uncharacteristically soft and how she breaks off the kiss with a series of small pecks only to smile one of her beautiful smiles so close to each other's faces… Magical. It could be at the fireworks on the fourth of July or it could be in your favorite spot in the woods, soaked in lake water during a midnight swim or after a heated argument. No matter how many times Clarisse kisses you, she'll never not feel electricity similar to her spear’s sharp edge digging into her body and soul.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Clarisse does not have a clue what she's doing. I feel like she'd say something in the heat of the moment; either confessing her true feelings or masking them by saying something hurtful she doesn't actually mean. In the latter scenario she'd storm off and berate herself over it but her pride and fear that you'd never look at her again made her put off her apology for some time and let it all sink in to talk to you when she's ready. That is until you start properly ignoring her and she nearly goes crazy with longing, just missing your overall presence and having her stomach turn to knots at the way things were left between you two. That's one of the few times Clarisse sucks it up and reaches for you. The apology is awkward but overwhelmingly honest and she tells you she's an idiot but you're content in forgiving her and giving her a second (actual first) chance.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Again, Clarisse never thought she'd live to see the day she'd actually have a marriage prospect. Her life just doesn't seem complete without you anymore and the moment she realizes that she's done for. It would probably be while you're laying in bed together, your head on her chest while you play with her fingers. Your eyes are heavy with sleep but hers are wide open, thinking. “Will you marry me?” said while staring into the distance and you probably think she's joking except Clarisse is not one to joke about that sort of thing. “Not now. But eventually.” and whether you ask if she's serious or just accept it right away, she'd look at you seriously for a beat and then tackle you into a bear hug, crushing you underneath her. She doesn't see the point in a big wedding, but if that's what you're into, she won't mind.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

She is not immune to babe or baby but would still like to keep some variety. Things like sunshine, gorgeous, angel or others (I'm looking at you, person who created the “mama/s” HC). She does like your name very much, or probably a shortened version of it. Don't expect her to not tease you if any of these make you flustered.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Clarisse likes to think she's good at hiding it when she's absolutely not. As Taylor Swift once said, you can hear it in the silence. Just the way her eyes soften when she's looking at you speaks millions, but people also get whiplash at how fast her mean attitude changes whenever you're around. Her love giving languages are probably acts of service and physical touch. She loves to do things for you, feeling all big and mighty whenever she can make your life just a little easier. Touching is also a must but we'll get to that in a second.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Clarisse is not very comfortable with public displays of affection, because she is afraid of being judged or mocked by others for being weak or soft. She prefers to keep her relationship with you private and intimate, but doesn't mind the little things. She does gloat about being with you as well as showing you off, so that everyone on camp knows you're hers. She brags about you all the time and I mean, seriously, all the time. She's not a big hand holder but she almost over compensates by grabbing at your hips and thighs, throwing an arm over your shoulder or hiding her face in your neck. She especially loves bonfires when you sit on her lap and she can hold firmly onto your waist while she's talking to her siblings or just press her forehead against yours when her social battery is low.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

She's very perceptive. She may not know what has changed right away but she's also persistent so she'll figure it out in an instant. If it's the way you did your hair or something that happened along your day, even if you change your usual greeting. She notices and she'll definitely ask you about it.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Clarisse wants to be loved, that's all she’s ever wanted, and she has so much love to give, therefore I believe she'll do just about anything to make you happy. That includes being an absolute sap. She honestly doesn't mind how cliche it is, if it works on you, you bet she's using it. If anyone cares to say anything remotely negative about you or your relationship she will promptly glare them into oblivion or give them something to really worry about.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

She is your absolute biggest supporter. Especially if you don't believe in yourself, then she's trying even harder for you to see just how well you can do something if you put your mind to it. With something like sword training she is more than willing to help you, rewarding you with kisses and cursing you for distracting her with your pretty face.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Clarisse doesn't mind change, she rolls with it. If you have a certain way of doing things, a routine you like to follow, that's fine by her. If you're unpredictable, even better. She just loves to see what comes next in terms of your relationship, not necessarily needing anything to amplify her love for you. It's already hardwired into her.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

She knows you like the back of her hand. Even the slightest furrow of your eyebrows or tilt of your head and she'll be there in a second asking what's wrong. She does learn to be more empathetic towards your own struggles, which was hard at first because she wasn't sure how to see things from someone else's point of view. Though road but you make it work.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

She doesn't have much to look forward to so Clarisse values her relationship with you very highly, as you are one of the few people who can see past her tough and aggressive exterior and appreciate her softer and more vulnerable side. She is fiercely loyal and protective of you, and would do anything to keep you safe and happy.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

I actually read this one on a Wattpad story a while ago so credit to the original creator but, Clarisse has a teddy bear named Mr. Muscles she's had since she was like, nine and she cherishes it like it's her most prized possession. When she introduced this piece of information to you, you just found her so incredibly adorable you couldn't contain the giggles and she gets so hot in the face she pushes you off her bed and it's honestly one of the most memorable moments in your relationship.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

I headcanon Clarisse as your personal furnace as well as a koala bear so kisses and cuddles are a must, especially if it's cold outside. She loves to take naps with you, it gets to the point where she has trouble sleeping without you (so you give her a vial of your perfume to spray on Mr. Muscles for when you're away).

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Clarisse with you: 🥰

Clarisse without you: 😡

She gets snappier than usual and easily annoyed but she'll also get really sad because she's never had to deal with being away from you. Her siblings try to cheer her up by shoving some kid's head into the toilet but she's so disinterested in anything that does not involve you she just goes about her days training until she can see you again and show off her muscles.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

The answer is yes, one hundred percent. “Touch her and you die” trope goes so hard. Not only that but she would willingly sacrifice the world and herself for you and your relationship. She would go out of her way to make sure you are okay, that you are fed and hydrated and well rested, even messing up her own sleeping schedule in order to take better care of you.

[saintsenara]

Trick or treat!

thank you very much for hammering on my door, anon. i didn't love the costume, though, so you're getting the scariest thing i can think of...

in defence of won-won and lav-lav

the inspiration for which came from the following anon:

obviously, ron and lavender are not, in the eyes of the text, a ship we are supposed to root for.

the doylist text treats the relationship as a semi-punishment for ron - something intended to chastise him [notice, for example, how he and lavender are frequently described in the narrative as being laughed at by other students] for the crime of being so rude to hermione [and dismissive of her desire for him] in the opening half of the book.

and, specifically, to chastise him for being immature - and for being unable to express his feelings for hermione in any sort of sophisticated way. his relationship with lavender is the final stage of the arc which begins in goblet of fire when he fails to ask hermione to the yule ball - in which his approach towards his attraction to her is petulant and childish and he doesn't "deserve" to be with her until he's resolved it.

ron being poisoned - and calling out for hermione on his sickbed - begins a different narrative arc which continues throughout deathly hallows, in which ron is shown to be attentive, compassionate, chivalrous, and so on, until he proves himself worthy of hermione by remembering that slaves exist and gets his girl.

lavender serves - then - as the anti-hermione. she's the final boss of ron's flop era, stopping him from moving on to his true love. and he knows it - hence him getting the ick when lavender does such unreasonable things as "call snape a cunt" - and longs to extract himself from her clutches, but she's such a powerful force of teenage cringe that he can't.

until harry adds a little liquid luck to the mix, that is.

the watsonian text lacks the overt sense that ron and lavender's relationship is a punishment, but its view on the two of them as a couple is broadly aligned with the doylist narrative.

harry is aware that ron and hermione fancy each other, and he doesn't deviate from this opinion even after ron and lavender start going out - his view [which ron does nothing to disabuse him of] is that ron's attraction to lavender is purely physical, that they have nothing in common and don't really talk to each other, and that ron wants to break up with lavender but doesn't know how. he also makes no effort to include lavender in his friendship group [instead, he regards her as something which prevents him from enjoying hanging out with ron] or to get to know anything about her beyond "likes divination" and "parvati's friend".

ron and lavender's relationship also serves the secondary purpose - in both the doylist and watsonian texts - of laying the groundwork for harry and ginny getting together in the latter stages of half-blood prince.

[which some readers might otherwise feel had come out of nowhere... although i do actually disagree with that assessment.]

the emphatic presentation of ron and lavender as embarrassing, superficial, horny teenagers is a narrative device which enables both harry and the text to insist that his attraction to ginny is the complete opposite: not just a flash-in-the-pan teenage romance, but a mature, profound, passionate, sophisticated, end-game love story. the text has locked in on ginny as mrs potter the second she's rude about ron and lavender's kissing technique.

and so the fact that lavender brings something very important - and very positive - to ron's character development is often overlooked.

ron's defining character trait is that he's someone who feels a great need to prove himself. this contributes both to his positive and negative characteristics - it's why he's daring, loyal, and brave, but it's also why he's disinclined to take initiative, prone to sulking, and a bit of a show-off.

and it's also why he feels jealousy very profoundly.

ron's jealousy - like most people's - is rooted in a sense of insecurity. he's jealous of the attention harry gets because he's worried that nobody will ever think he's so impressive [which also connects to him being worried that he's the least-loved of his siblings]. he's jealous of hermione's relationship with viktor krum because he's worried that he could never command hermione's attention in such a way. he's so easy for the locket-horcrux to manipulate because he thinks it's self-evident that - as the apparition of hermione says - nobody would ever prefer him over the boy-who-lived.

this narrative arc concludes with ron learning to move beyond his insecurity - something the epilogue lampshades by having him quip that the crowds gawking at harry are really there for him. he stabs the locket, banishing the physical manifestation of his insecurities, becomes proactive about communicating his feelings for hermione, and acknowledges that his belief that harry's life is cool and swashbuckling is a fantasy, and that true heroism is often hard and boring.

harry and hermione are - unsurprisingly - key figures in this journey of self-discovery.

but so is lavender.

there seems to be a common view in this fandom that hermione is the most emotionally literate and most mature of the trio. this former view is plainly nonsensical [if any of them have the emotional range of a teaspoon, it's little miss "why are you upset your rabbit's dead?"...] and the latter always seems, to me, to be based in essentialist stereotypes about girls being more sensible and maturing faster than boys, instead of the idea that hermione - specifically - has a more diligent and rule-oriented personality than harry and ron.

[i'm always struck by how hermione is - in many ways - the most child-like of the trio. deathly hallows begins with harry clearing his trunk of the ephemera of childhood so he can pack for his mission. hermione's packing involves taking her schoolbooks along as comfort items...]

as a result, the fact that hermione and ron behave equally as petulantly towards each other before their end-game arc begins is often overlooked. he tends to cope with feeling insecure by lashing out at other people's insecurities [i.e. when he does the impression of her bouncing up and down in her chair and makes her cry because she laughs at him] and so does she [i.e. her zeroing in on ron's lack of confidence in his quidditch abilities when she says she's attracted to "really good quidditch players"]. he acquits himself badly when it comes to krum, she reacts in exactly the same way [scoffing, sulking, giving the silent treatment, casting aspersions on the object of his affection's character etc.] to his crush on fleur.

lavender - in contrast - just likes ron. there's nothing deeper going on. she just thinks he's hot and funny and she wants to be around him. harry may see her attraction to ron as ridiculous and embarrassing, but she doesn't. she wants to snog him in the middle of the dining hall - fuck what anyone else thinks!

and this experience - of being uncomplicatedly adored, of being thought wonderful without "wonderful for the average person, of course, not wonderful by the standards of harry potter/international quidditch superstar viktor krum/the slug club" being tacked on the end - is good for ron. it improves his self-esteem [harry takes the piss out of him looking pleased with himself when lavender laughs at his jokes etc., but part of why harry is so gagged is that these moments don't conform to the standard of harry being the person people notice first - or, indeed, exclusively] and allows him to begin to see himself as someone who's worthy of being desired as he is.

and this helps him move beyond expressing his jealousy through sulking and cruelty - at bill and fleur's wedding, for example, he is still jealous of the idea that krum is attracted to hermione, but he responds to this proactively by asking her to dance with him, instead of [as he does at the yule ball] doing nothing to express that he wants to spend time with her and then blaming her for not reading his mind - which then leads into his arc across deathly hallows of moving beyond jealousy entirely.

i don't - though - see ron and lavender lasting if the canon end-game pairings are deviated from. harry's observation that ron and lavender don't have anything in common beyond physical attraction is demonstrably correct. harry's view that lavender wouldn't mesh well with the trio [or with him and ginny as a couple] is harsher, but also true.

but nor do i think we should want them to last.

this is something i say a lot, but fandoms in general are really bad at thinking about romantic relationships which aren't epic love stories - which is unsurprising, since the media from which fandoms spring is exactly the same.

we're bad at recognising that one night stands which don't turn into anything, or second love, or friends-to-lovers-to-friends-again, or "this lasted six weeks and neither of us were sad when it ended", or "i'm sixteen and i want to kiss this fit boy, i'm not going to marry him!" still trigger character growth. a high-school relationship which makes everyone in a ten-foot radius cringe might not last - and nor should it! - but it can still be transformative.

lavender transforms ron's life. there is no romione without her.

[and nor is there any of the locket getting stabbed, so take note, ronmort nation.]

and she deserves our respect.

[starr-matterr]

♡̵♥︎♡̵̵"All you wanna do...is see me turn into...a giant woman!" ♡̵♥︎♡̵̵

This is gonna be my first ever fanfic and its for hsr😭😭

Its probably gonna be ass but I need to get this out of my head actually.

No use of y/n. reader is called "You"

Only like 2 characters r mentioned by name you'll understand that later

I know little to nothing abt hsr so alot of this might just be brain worms.

Idea credit to @eternityofend they r so silly for this idea go follow them plz

You were a unique Aeon, however, thoroughly confusing all who had studied you. You weren't callous and cruel like other Aeons, in fact You took a great pride in putting your all into caring for your followers and all around you. You were utterly perfect in their eyes.

Which Is why they were so confused when it came up to researching you. Your kindness and passion towards all you deemed good was well documented but one thing was not. Your appearance. You seemed to only appear to your followers in dream-like states. To your dear acolytes, You were a complete mystery, those few who did happen to see you only recalling how utterly loved they felt. They could only vaguely describe what they believed was You with statments varying each time.

It stayed that way for a long time as the seasons passed and sightings of You dwindled. Everything seemed so bleak without You, the greenery seemed to dull, the once colorful skies seemed to darken, and it could be felt by everyone.

Especially those blessed by you, most importantly, the Trailblazer. The Trailblazer always had a unique connection to You, often hearing your velvety voice for fleeting moments or seeing visions of You in dreams.

They had grown accustomed to your presence, even if you weren't physically there. When they had come to the realization that you were pulling away from your loyal, devoted acolytes they didn't take it well.

What had they done to forsake you? Why were You abandoning your Trailblazer?!?

They had moped around for weeks, delivering offerings to your shrines spread about the planets You had forged by hand out of love for your creations.

Without your guidance they began to spiral. Getting a little too rough with enemies, not tending to their own injuries after battles, often staring off into space, they were losing it. They needed you.

It wasn't until they had finally reached their breaking point until they heard it. A giggle, that laugh that would make all their worries wash away. Their breath hitched in desperation before they the thought of you out of their mind. You couldn't be back could you?

Then they heard it again. They didn't know why but they started running. It was if their body knew where to go but their mind didn't. They didn't know why they were running, You had never appeared in physical form yet.

They ran in the direction of your voice before hastily stumbling upon You. My were You a sight for sore eyes. The Trailblazer paused as they took in every inch of You, committing every last bit of you to memory, just incase this really was psychosis. You were sat in what seemed to be some large plains as your acolytes swarmed You like small bees.

You let out a chuckle at how adorable they all looked and how much they had grown since you last saw them. They were still so small and so needy but you loved every bit of them. Your acolytes peppered You with questions, praise, and presents as You gretted them all.

Sometimes you'd even let them crawl into the palm of your hand so you could get a better look at them. The person in question currently receiving this treatment being none other than March 7th. As she stared at You with star-struck eyes You couldn't help but giggle.

You continued to play with your acolytes before seeing the Trailblazer. You beckon them over with a smile, one the Trailblazer hadnt seen in months now.

As they approached You gently set March down, as to not hurt her before turning to the Trailblazer. Sensing how tense they were You brush a gentle finger through their hair as if anything harsher could crush them. As you pet their hair they seem to melt into your touch, making you laugh at their content smile.

You weren't expecting this. You expected your acolytes to be intimidated, scared even. You were white large and you could decimate them in seconds. That didn't seem to phase them as they chattered amongst themselves about larger temples and bigger offerings.

They just had to find a fitting celebration for your return, lest you take their hesitation as ungratefulness and devoid them of your presence again.

The trailblazer seemed to be keeping you company as the others made preparations for a mighty celebration in your name. As you patted their head their breaths were shaky as they professed their unbreakable loyalty to You.

It spooked you a bit. You didn't know your dear trailblazer could be so passionate, as You had only really been around them when they needed truly needed support or answers.

You didn't stop them however, You believed they needed to get this off their chest to sooth themselves.

You turn your gaze away from the Trailblazer for a moment, still allowing them to nuzzle into your fingers as long as they avoided your sharp nails. Now that you had a physical form you should probably file them down. You didn't want to harm your acolytes did you?

Your gaze falls upon the small crowd starting to form as they stare up at You. You flash them a charming smile, melting their hearts and making their minds feel fuzzy as you do.

That doesn't stop them from glaring daggers at the Trailblazer however. Just what was so special about them that your other acolytes couldn't do?

Their little angry faces were adorable to You. You just couldn't stop yourself from 'Aww'-ing at them!

Their heart skips a beat as hear it. Did you belive they were..cute? they feel all of those sleepless nights filled with extensive research on your disappearance was worth it. You swear You heard someone in the crowd offer You their newborn.

'This will be eventful.' You think to yourself as cou continue tending to your acolytes. Your heart swelling with unbridled joy.

UH YEAH.

My first fanfic done yippiee yippiee

Can you tell i haven't got past the tutorial of hsr because my phone is ass or naw be honest☹☹☹

Might put out a part 2 if the brain worms become too much idk

Also please tell me if I did anything wrong or something is misspelled or misused just dont throw pebbles at me for it thx!!!

YALL I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THIS EARLIER IM GONNA RIP MY FACE OFF AUGHHG.

[stressedanime]

my new favourite headcanon is ace jason grace, and i think it would just fit so well into his character so lemme explain (also creds to @snoelledarts who helped me write this)

As we know, his overall character arc is about struggling against the expectations put on him because of his birthright, being the son of Jupiter. 

This presented itself in two ways: The inherent stigma of being the son of Jupiter/Zeus, and the pressure Camp Jupiter had placed on him to be a perfect soldier/leader

To talk about the stigma first, I want to focus on Jason and Piper’s interactions with Achelous, because it really makes my heart hurt for him.

“Poor thing. Another girl stuck with a son of Zeus.” “Wait a minute,” Jason said. “It’s Jupiter actually. And how does that make her poor thing?” - pg. 335, the Mark of Athena

To summarize: Achelous describes to Jason and Piper how Hercules' died, how he took after Zeus by having affairs and flirting with anything that moved. Then, after catching wind of her husband's infidelity, Hercules’ second wife killed him out of jealousy. Then Achelous warns Piper about Jason being a son of /Zeus/. 

Piper doesn’t even look at Jason after this. She fears for herself, and for what Jason could possibly do just because of his birthright. How do you think that affected Jason at this moment? The horror and fear that he could hurt the people he loves? That it could be inevitable for him to follow in his fathers footsteps? Especially when Piper doubts him at that moment, how could he also not doubt himself? 

Even though at the end of this conflict she shows her dedication and belief in him, that she believes he is better than the people he’s related to, I fear that the doubt was already planted in his head.

Moving onto the pressures that the Romans placed on him, I think it’s important context to look at what happened BEFORE he made it to CJ 

When he was abandoned by his mom at the Wolf House, she promised that she would come back to him, but she never did. 

His mother’s unkempt promise was at the core of who he was. He’d built his whole life around the irritation of her words, like the grain of sand at the center of a pearl. People lie. Promises are broken. That was why, as much as it chafed him, Jason followed rules. He kept his promises. He never wanted to abandon anyone the way he’d been abandoned and lied to. - pg. 31, the Blood of Olympus

So from the absolute beginning of his time in the Legion, he felt a strong need to follow rules, even though another part of him so desperately wanted to break free of them. 

And we know he struggled against the expectations about being a son of Jupiter because of the glimpses we get about his time in the Legion.

This had been the story of my life, he thought bitterly. Everyone had always watched him, expecting him to lead the way. From the moment he’d arrived at Camp Jupiter, the Roman demigods treated him like a prince in waiting. Despite his attempts to alter his destiny–joining the worst cohort, trying to change the camp traditions, taking the least glamorous missions, and befriending the least popular kids–he had been made praetor anyway. As a son of Jupiter, his future had been assured. - pg. 30 the Blood of Olympus

But I want to look at these expectations in a slightly different lens than just being destined to lead. Specifically, I want to look at this in terms of hegemonic masculinity, which is a specific social identity or performance of masculinity that is virtually unattainable. 

This masculinity was very likely part of the pressure that the Romans put onto Jason. This includes the idea that men, ‘real men’, need to be physically superior, money makers, have political power, be conventionally attractive, and use those looks and charms and status to have sex, like a Real Man™️should. 

You just KNOW that these warped ideals, mixed with the expectations of being the son of JUPITER aka horny menace #1 created some fucked up ideals in his head and pressure from others about how he should act.

All of this leads me to the conclusion that an ace Jason Grace would be a natural, and fitting identity, as well as add so much depth to his character

First of all, realizing he’s ace would be a huge relief

Apart from the “oh i’ve finally found language that describes me and my experience” (bc i feel like he’d hear one of his friends mention it during conversation and he’d be like what’s that? and then when they explain it he’d be like huh. interesting. very interesting. and then go home n scour the internet for resources to explain more)

There’d be that part of him that’s like, relieved that there’s a piece of him that inherently separates him from Jupiter’s legacy, in both the way way that Achelous outlined, and the one forced on him by the Romans

Jason who rejects that side of being related to his father, to being Roman, to being this glorified version of himself that doesn't exist. Jason who gets to relax and live without the fear that he's anything like his father. 

Also, this could work completely with how his and Piper’s relationship played out. They truly did love each other despite the godly meddling, but their circumstances didn’t set them up to last.  

And maybe… maybe their relationship worked so well for Jason, because of Piper's sexuality. 

Piper isn't really into guys like that (Jason maybe being an exception because of the memories from hera or because of specific circumstances/the kind of person Jason is), and Jason isn't really... into people like that and so he doesn't see anything weird about how Piper is either?

They're both not correct about their sexualities and maybe trying to cover it up which is what made their relationship kinda functional for a while because neither of them were pushing for anything super romantic or over the top or sexual

I feel like I could even pull from the Cupid scene to support this

If this invisible guy was Love, then Jason was beginning to think love was overrated. He liked Pipers version better - considerate, kind, and beautiful. pg. 289, the House of Hades

Considerate is SUCH a specific word choice. Especially when we know that considerate is the antithesis to everything Jupiter is. 

AND it’s the antithesis to everyone else in Jason’s life. Do you ever think the Romans were ever considerate to him? Likely not. They just expected him to perform, like a son of Jupiter should.

Therefore, his relationship with Piper was perfect for him, because she didn’t see him as a son of Jupiter. She saw him as Jason Grace, her best friend.

And if he ever does find a partner, he’d have the confidence and ability to be upfront about his sexuality because he won’t be pressured by expectations like that again. 

The relief of knowing intimacy looks a little different for him, and the relief of like, letting people be gentle and soft, with him and that’s all that’s expected. That's all he needs, and no one else feels he needs to go further either. He can just breathe.

That’s what Jason Grace deserves.

[r3starttt]

CALL ME BY YOUR NAME | 02

fic M.list | read this or DNI

cw: mentions of masturbation

After the very boring and award familiar dinner you had, without Abby, your whole family reunited at the inside of the house.

You found yourself lying on a large couch as your cousins watches something in the huge tv, almost at full volume. Your mom was talking with your aunt about whatever, they could talk for hours.

Your dad was busy serving everyone something to drink, some small snack and having small talk with everyone making sure they felt comfortable. Paying attention and taking care of everything and everyone but you.

Until everyone suddenly remembered you existed. But you’re way too stubborn to please them so easily, besides you were already feeling your heart in your brain, palpitating loudly enough to make your whole body vibrate. Abby, without being there had caused you such discomfort.

And you weren’t in the mood for anything but sleeping. Yet attention is always welcomed because you adore people noticing you, deep inside you that’s something you crave.

You were took out of your trance by your dads voice right next to your ear, his voice cooed your name, followed by his hands on your shoulders, maybe not the best thing to do after Abby did the same thing just some hours ago. It felt like a ghost, she wasn’t there but you could feel her and see her and hear her everywhere.

“Play something” he asked, patting your shoulders before walking away, next to your mom and aunt sitting next to you on separate couches of course, to not bother you more. “non mi va” you replied, hiding your face on the palm of your hand and crossing your legs more if that was even possible as a desperate attempt to pretend you weren’t there.

“perché non ti va? mhm?” your mom asked, hearing her felt like an insult “perché non mi va” you answered again, feeling your words coming out of your mouth as bullets piercing your own skin. You’ve never experienced such a migraine. “You’re spoiling everyone’s fun”

Her words sank on you, if you could describe it, physically there was something fuzzy in your throat running down your stomach, she was right. So you stood up, walking towards the piano as your family clapped at you, sarcastically.

They made you play the piano.

-

Naturally next day you were exhausted, feeling a headache hangover and overthinking every single time you’ve spoke to Abby. Why was she so present in your mind?

You had nothing planned for today, just stay at home and wait for the day to end. And you really hoped, needed that Abby wasn’t here today.

She kept haunting you, making you feel and think and experience physical and mental pain. That’s the most accurate word, it was discomfort mixed with pain and annoyance. But also empathy because she was probably trying her best and felt the same way about you.

And she was the adult here, the one that should know what to do, where and when put the limits. She should be smarter than you, like all your mom’s students. Otherwise she would be here.

So she probably knew about you and how you were feeling, and as well knew about her and how she was feeling. And it kept bothering you how she was being so childish about this, how she didn’t let you read her mind like others did.

How here brows were always furrowed and her fat lips were naturally pouting, always looking so annoyed and serious and like she was keeping a secret. How she purposely leaned on you to grab some shit from the table every time she ate with you and your parents and how she would disappear all day after that, not making a sound whenever she arrived.

It bothered you how she ran her hands through her hair whenever it wasn’t made in a braid, how her collar looked so tentative whenever you noticed it, how she’d let her underwear everywhere in the bathroom you shared and how she’d be so normal, changing with the door or windows fully open, like you weren’t there.

It bothered you how inviting she looked and how much you craved her, how impossible she seemed to get but how easy she became whenever she’s around you. It bothered you how good it felt to stare.

It bothered you to feel something ache in between your legs and breasts whenever you saw her. And it was extremely hurtful how you could never satiate it.

Before you realized your hand was already over your cunt, making small circles above your clit, teasing yourself by the pure thought of her.

And how could you not when she looked delicious under the sun, lightening her blonde her, and the breeze, warmly making the front stands of her hair gracefully dance over her cheeks, how could you not when the sweat made her usually white blouses stick to her back, when her muscles were always fully displayed.

Three knocks, less than one second each, and the door was already opened.

Your hand moved away as fast as it could, grabbing the first thing it could catch. A book, small, you’ve never seen it before but somehow it was next to your bed. Maybe it was something you grabbed on a sleepy night where you refused to let the day end.

“Hey” “hey” your voices overlapped, she walked inside your room as you were still readjusting yourself on your bed, trying to look natural, trying to hide your chest practically trying to jump out of your body, shifting your eyes to keep them fixated in your book.

She was wearing a white tank top -a black bra under- practically transparent. And some shorts, she was planning on go swimming based on the little you’ve get to know her.

Her arms rested on the old metal footboard, and maybe it was just you but you felt like her eyes could look trough you, like she could perceive how annoying yet desired her presence was for you at this moment. “How come you’re not down with everyone else by the river?”

You, on the other hand, we’re resting on your elbows. Back almost pressed against the mattress and legs bended, knees pointing to the window in front of you and eyes moving quickly side to side on every verse in the book, trying to ignore her body, which unconsciously had you drooling some seconds ago. You hummed, thinking about an answer.

“Not feeling good t’day…have an allergy” Abby’s voice overlapped with you, purposely interrupting your lame excuse “Yeah me too, maybe we have the same one” you furrowed before realizing, confused and conflicted by her words. Why couldn’t she just ignore you?

Why was she always so smart?

“Why don’t you and I go swimming?” your hands positioned the book down, facing the mattress without closing it properly, quickly folding the edge of the sheet you were currently acting to read. Smart movement that she would hopefully notice as a non verbally response to her sudden invitation.

“Right now?” She nodded, pressing her lips together and grabbing you by the arm that wasn’t supporting your body from falling on the bed. “Do we have to go right now?” Abby sighed, annoyed by how childish you were being right now. She did notice, she knew you more than you imagine, but as the older one between you both she tried her best to make things work, and it was painfully annoying that you refused to let her do the job.

“I’ll go get changed, meet you downstairs”

-

Todays hot was bearable, relaxing even. So after fulfill her whim and swim with her you two grew exhausted of it, and probably each other’s presence as well, ending up resting each in a different way.

You, on a lounger and her on the side of the small pool the cottage had on its large garden. The only thing heard was the water running down the fountain, along the pool, and the usual chirp of birds accompanied by the trees moving.

You were falling asleep, the warmth of the sun embracing your body comfortably couldn’t cause less. And since she didn’t make any sound the moment you closed your eyes you obliviously assumed she was in your same situation. Until her voice was hear, asking for your attention by practically screaming your name. “You sleeping?” “I was”

“Listen to this drivel, tell me what y’ think” “No, wait” you quickly responded, still half asleep. As your back cracked gracefully for you, her laugh got to your ears, was she making fun of you? bothering you on purpose?

You stood up, walking towards her. Which she ignored by speaking before you even got close as you intended, to actually hear her and pay attention to whatever she planned on saying.

“For the early Greeks, Heidegger contends, this underlying hiddenness is constitutive of the way beings are, no only in relation to themselves but also in relation to other entities generally. In other words, they do construe hiddenness merely or primarily in terms of entities’ relations to human beings”

You didn’t understand nor hear any word she just mentioned, still stretching your body and sitting next to her as she spoke, placing your legs in the water and making small circles with your feet, completely amused by the way the water looked. You find it relaxing how transparent and brilliant the water looks any time for he day, how it lightens your skin, how it moves.

“Does that make any sense to you? Doesn’t make any sense to me” you shifter your eyes to look at her, her muscled arms flexed to the sides of her body, sighing as she grabbed the sheet with some force, wrinkling it’s corners. “I don’t think it makes any sense to your dad either” “Maybe it did when you wrote it”

You extender your arm to grab the sheet and take a proper look of whatever she wrote, making her put some effort on it as a small revenge of her waking you up. “That’s the kindest thing anybody has said to me in months” you grabbed the sheet, being interrupted by her voice again “kind?” a ‘yep’ brushed her lips, almost too quiet for you to hear.

Before you could read any of it, even glance at the piece of paper your hands contained, she threw herself on the pool, purposely just to get you wet again, and probably to ruin the stupid text that sheet had. Which she failed on achieving since you moved it away the moment you noticed her body rolling to the side.

-

She’d be dancing something in between 9 and 12 minutes based on how much each singed has played so far lasted. Yes, you counted.

Today was the day in the week you went out with your friends, being interrupted by Abby’s presence you ended coming to a small party in town, with her as well. Marzia was there, not letting go of you since you arrived.

Which was extremely annoying considering the fact you weren’t paying attention to her at all by how Abby’s hands were placing on a woman’s ass, non ashamed. They were adults and the place was safe, she, they, could do whatever. And if it wasn’t her then it would probably pass ignored by you. But it didn’t and it’s the most disgusting thing your eyes have seen her do so far.

Marisa’s body felt somehow heavy, and her words were like random letters being pronounced right to your ear, loud and not understandable at all.

Your friends, which where sitting next to you as Marzia was on your lap, were drunk already, making fun of Abby and the woman who had been desperate to feel her touch since Abby became the center of attention to practically everyone present.

You had a cigarette in hand, pressing your free hand on the sides of Marzia’s waist at every move Abby made. Bitting the inside of your lips and cheeks whenever the cig had to leave your mouth or replacing it by some beer.

You’d ended dancing as well when the fifth song appeared. Marzia right next to Abby who seemed unbothered by the two of you eye fucking each other right in front of her. Because as much as you craved Abby, Marzia was there first, and she’d been waiting for you longer than anyone else has waited.

You knew what she craved, and also knew you couldn’t give it to her, but there was no harm in trying your best to cheat both you and her. It’s better to try and fail than do nothing and regret.

You just had to find the courage to reach out and touch, she would say yes.

-

“I just heard from the people in Sirmione, they say they’ve come up with something so, going there today, yeah?” Your mom murmured to you during breakfast. Abby was sitting next to you so she heard as well.

Not in your plans but not something you could refuse to do, it wouldn’t take long, It never did. Marzia would be waiting for you till night, and even if it did took long then she won’t leave, if she’s been holding herself for years already, what’s some minutes more?

“Please, stay silent” your mom said, giving the first bite to her food “Silent as in ‘she has too many opinions’ or silent as in ‘just not telling anybody what amazing thing you’ve dug up’” that was Abby’s voice, vibrating in your ears as how deep and loud she was whenever she spoke to your parents.

-

You were all day outside, with both your mom and Abby. You ended up swimming till night and god how things were so perfect that day you forgot about the plans you've made with Marzia.

You didn't even bother to went and look for her later that night, if she was there she would tell you how immature you are with this, if she wasn't there then this was it.

And to be honest, after actually spending a decent evening with abby you didn't feel like going trough her shit today. Or tomorrow, or in a week until she won't mad at you anymore.

[hiiragi7]

Hello! I just read your reblog about your new headmate and we got kind of curious! So, we have a few questions, if you feel okay answering! In general, what differences in functioning have you observed between your endogenic headmate and traumagenic headmates that you used to be before fusion?

Do you think that these two experiences are in any way, shape or form comparable to each other? Or do you think they are fundamentally different and function on different bases?

What kind of things surprised you with your new headmate? You also mentioned looking into different plural subcommunities - what surprised you about them? Also, just wanted to say hi, Fennel :D Hope you're both doing swell!

(It's okay! No worries!)

Thank you for the ask! I'm very open to questions!

In general, what differences in functioning have you observed between your endogenic headmate and traumagenic headmates that you used to be prior to fusion?

I think the big ones are memory, communication, and switching. I noticed pretty early on that Fennel had access to all of my memories by default, and that really caught me off guard - with my DID system, none of my parts had memory access like that, especially not right away. Shared memory was something we had to actively work towards, so it was a surprise to me that Fennel didn't have this issue. Which, sure, from the start one of my goals was "no dissociative barriers" with creating her, but in practice seeing how easy things came to her was still something I've had to get used to.

That being said, it's really cool watching Fennel make use of whatever tools my brain has to offer to her. She's quickly taken to various methods of communicating with me internally, including through images, half-formed thoughts, words, emotions, wants, even physical sensations. With my DID parts, we had to communicate very purposefully and very directly, and even as fully fused I still need to make sure to check in with myself to make sure I'm listening to what every part of me is feeling. With Fennel, I still need to check in with her, but her communication style is very spontaneous and loose in comparison. She's always "present" in a way that my DID parts weren't. My DID parts were always off doing whatever they were up to in the innerworld, Fennel does not do this and in a way is always co-fronting.

With switching, it physically feels different from my DID switches in a way that's a bit difficult to describe. With DID, I felt very disoriented and a little like I got hit in the head when I switched. Often there would be a "waking up" sensation that I would get (even though I was awake the entire time). With Fennel, it feels more like a wave that comes over my body. It's not slower, but it's more gentle than what I've experienced with my DID - and I am aware of the switch the entire time. When Fennel switches, there is no sense of lost time or confusion, and both of us are still present.

Do you think that these two experiences are in any way, shape or form comparable to each other? Or do you think they are fundamentally different and function on different bases?

I think for others they might be comparable, and in some ways I can acknowledge there are similarities even in my own experiences. For me, in my system, they do come from different places and will naturally be different because of that, and that variance is completely expected and alright. A traumagenic system won't necessarily function the same way as an endogenic system; A mixed origin system won't necessarily function the same way as a non-mixed origin system; so on and so on.

In my specific case, as well, not many folks go down the "fully fused DID to endogenic plural" route (I don't think I even know of any), so I'm kind of figuring it out on my own here. I have no idea what to expect.

So far, even with some similarities, overall my experiences with traumagenic systemhood and endogenic systemhood have been pretty different from each other and I believe that for me they do function on different bases. (It might be different for others, this is just my own experience - I have heard from traumagenic friends that their created members often still function at least in part as traumagenic, for example)

That being said, there definitely is overlap between the experiences and I think it'd be a disservice to ignore that as well. It's also rather difficult for me to say where the difference lies between origins and DID - I wouldn't be able to say whether the differences I've experienced are mostly a "traumagenic vs. endogenic thing" or a "DID vs. DID resolution thing", because I can't really separate my original origins from my DID in that way. All I can really say is that there is some kind of difference and some kind of similarity.

What kind of things surprised you with your new headmate?

I had a moment a few weeks into creating her where I realized she was actually, genuinely sentient - sentience is one of those things where everyone says to believe in it from the very start of creating a headmate, and I did, but it's a different feeling seeing it actually become reality. All of a sudden everything with Fennel became much more vivid, she was aware of her surroundings and that she existed, she realized I was talking to her rather than simply talking at her. I'd never really had an experience like that until then. I was completely amazed by it.

Another thing that surprised me is how quickly her development has been going - As mentioned in my previous post, it's been a little over a month since I decided to create her and start working on developing her, and Fennel is already beginning to talk (I decided not to do parroting, for my own anxiety). She learns very quickly, and I have to remind myself that she learns from everything she sees, hears, etc. as well as everything I do and say. The first few weeks went by very quickly, then she seemed to take a rest for a little bit, now she's developing a little more gradually (though it still feels fast, to be honest).

You also mentioned looking into different plural subcommunities - What surprised you about them?

What comes to mind is mostly the amount of very old resources and guides that have survived after more than a decade and are still getting passed around in parogenic/Tulpa spaces - It's really cool that such old documents and posts are still so relevant in these communities today and still finding ways to help folks. It does mean the language and approach in these resources is often pretty outdated, but a lot of them still hold up well enough to be useful. I already knew resources and guides were a major thing in this community, and even knew a lot of them were older resources, but the amount of people I've come across who just so happen to have a very very old link or three on hand to casually throw out there surprised me.

I think that's it. I hope this answered your questions!

Also...

Fennel says hi back!

[diagnosedpsychosis]

Broken Promises

Description: Failed promise after failed promise, the reader finally thinks that this time Aaron will be able to keep his promise...

Word Count: 3.1k

______________________________________________________________

Unit Chief of the Behavioural Analysis Unit was an amazingly respected job, and you knew that better than anyone. You knew it meant your boyfriend Aaron would be away more than he was home, but he loved what he did and you loved seeing him get enjoyment out of it.

But as much as you tried to remain loving and understanding, his job also took its toll on you. If he wasn't home it was quiet and you were alone. Here and there you would help take care of his son, Jack, but Jessica, his aunty loved the kid so much because he reminded her of her departed sister that she was almost a full time carer for the boy.

Even though you were alone without Aaron, somehow you felt even more lonely when he was present. If he wasn't physically exhausted from a case, he was mentally exhausted, which meant days of walking on egg shells around him until he started acting like himself again. And then he'd be pulled back into work and flown half way across the country.

You had been together for years, but you'd only just started feeling the negative affects of his job in the last 6 months. Aaron knew something was up, you knew he knew. You also knew he was trying to fix things in his own way. Bring home flowers, leaves cases out of the house, wake you up with breakfast in bed.

Even when things got heated and passionate, Aaron would whisper sweet nothings in your ear as he thrusted into you. 'You are beautiful', 'I love you so much', 'I'd be nothing without you.' And in the moment it felt enough, like everything you ever wanted and needed, but it wasn't, because despite how much he claimed to love you you knew he loved his job more.

You knew that the second his phone rung he'd leave your side and wouldn't return for a week.

Today was different though, you told yourself over and over again, unable to fight the grin on your face as your style your hair for the fancy dinner out Aaron had promised. He'd made this same promise a number of times, and every single one of them fell through the roof because of a case, but this time felt different.

This time you were sure he was going to keep his promise. You didn't doubt him one bit, so when your phone started ringing and his name flashed you grinned with delight before answering the phone and putting it on speaker.

"Hey Handsome" You heard a hum on the other end of the line that made your heart swell. Hearing him after 5 days, even if it was just a hum made everything better.

"Hi Sweetheart" He sounded tired, understandably after a long case, but ignored it, knowing he hated when you sympathised with him in moments like these.

"So, I know you said you'd be here at 8, but I kind of got excited and got ready early and now I've got time if there's anything you need done-"

"Sweetheart, I'm not going to make it" You shut up, your smile frozen on your face as you wondered whether he'd actually spoken or if you'd thought it yourself. Your heart falls into your stomach as you stared at your reflection. You wanted to look nice for him, so you'd gotten yourself extra dolled up, but now... now he wasn't coming?

He'd broken his promise, again?

"What?" You asked, hoping it really was all just in your head.

"I know I promised I'd be home, but something has come up in Texas-" The rest of his words became background noise as you zoned out and in on your face in the mirror in front of you. The second unshed tears threatened your water line you closed your eyes. Exhausted. That's the best way to describe how you felt right now. You weren't upset, or angry, this was his job and you knew that the day you two went on your first day.

You were just exhausted. Tired of getting excited over and over again only to be let down every single time. You didn't blame Aaron, not one bit, but this whole situation, the way you've been living for the last 2 years, you were so tired of it... you couldn't do it anymore.

"It's fine, Aaron" You sighed, opening your eyes again and looking at yourself. A nice dress, hair and makeup done, you even did your nails because you know Aaron likes your red nail polish. All of it for nothing.

"I'm so sorry, honey" Aaron felt sick, like he was going to throw up. Guilt consumed him at having to cancel on you again, despite promising this time he'd finally be there for you. He loved you, with absolutely everything he had, and in a few years time he'd, with ease, drop everything for you. But he couldn't now. He wasn't ready to quit the FBI.

"It's fine, Aaron. It's always fine" Your reassurance is like a bullet to his heart. You were always so understanding, and Aaron knew he didn't deserve you, but he was just too selfish to let you go. What hurt more though, was hearing your voice crack. It was so faint, Aaron wondered if you'd even noticed.

"Y/n-" You didn't want to hear another apology come from his mouth, because he could apologise again and again and again, but it didn't make it any better. It only made saying 'it's fine' that much easier when it happened the next time.

"I'm tired, so I'm going to head to bed now" You weren't going to bed, but despite how much you loved Aaron, his voice was the last one you wanted to hear tonight. You were embarrassed, having been so excited for another failed plan. You cringed at your dolled up reflection, hating that the way you looked represented another disappointment.

"Y/n, please-" Aaron was desperate to talk even though he didn't know what else to say other than sorry, but you were desperate to hang up.

"Stay safe, alright?" Aaron was annoyed about the fact that he'd upset you and there you were still making sure he was safe and okay. You were putting him first despite the fact he had put you second again.

"I will. I love you" He said and closed his eyes waiting to hear you say it back. Instead he was met with radio silence. You hesitated to reply, not because you doubted how much you loved him, but because you doubted how much he loved you.

"You too. See ya" Before Aaron had even processed the fact you hadn't said it back, you hung up and practically threw your phone across your room. You hated feeling like this. You wanted to cry, but you felt like if you did you were being overdramatic. You thought it was unfair to Aaron if you reacted the way you wanted to, whereas he felt it was unfair to you.

The team needed Penelope with them, so they'd stopped off back in Virginia to pick her up. This is where Aaron stood, just outside the jet, phone in his hand down by his side as he stared out at the runway.

You didn't say 'I love you too' and that was all he could think about. No matter how many times he'd cancelled on you and called to disappoint you, you always hung up with an 'I love you', but not today. That was all Aaron needed to know that today was different, and he had royally fucked up with you.

There was nothing more he wanted to do than turn around and walk home to you, but his team needed him. One word from them and he'd leave for yours in a heartbeat. He needed to fix this. He needed to make sure you were okay. He needed you.

Aaron stepped back onboard and it was almost as if the air had changed in the jet. Every single member of the team knew something was up the second he hopped back onto the jet. His posture was the same, his usual blank frown, from the outside he looked like he did everyday, but they'd all been on the team long enough to know Aaron's tell- the way he opens and closes his hand into a tight fist by his side.

It was something he did when he felt overwhelmed. Not knowing how to react, or how to busy himself, he clenched and unclenched his hand over and over again, not even noticing it himself. And right now as he sat down across from Rossi and Derek, he clenched his hand tighter than usual, something they both immediately noticed.

"Everything alright?" Rossi asked, placing the case file back on the small table and putting all his attention on Aaron. Even Derek subtly paused the music flowing through his headphones, and lifted his eyes.

"No, I don't think so" Aaron sighed, running a hand down his face tiredly as he glanced out the jet window, seeing the headlights of the SUV Penelope was coming in from afar.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"It's Y/n" Whether or not Aaron usually spoke much about his and your relationship, the team knew that if something was wrong with you and it was putting a dampener on his mood, then it was serious. Serious enough that Aaron had closed the new Texas case file and slid it away from himself.

Rossi immediately understood. He's known of a couple of the times Aaron has had to cancel on you, and how you had reacted to each of them. "I'm sure everything is fine, Aaron. Y/n is a very understanding woman."

"That's the problem. 'It's fine. It's always fine' is what she said" Derek decided he'd add his little bit, still not understanding the issue quite the way Rossi did.

"I don't understand. You've got yourself a beautiful woman who not only understands your workload, but respects it too" What Derek said only made Aaron feel worse.

"Yeah but she's upset. She doesn't say it, but I can here it in her voice. I promised I'd finally take her out for dinner tonight after having to cancel on her time and time again" Aaron, despite how calm he may have sounded, was getting worked up.

"Aaron-"

"She was so excited, and finally, when she thinks I'm calling to tell her I'm on my way, it's actually me calling to disappoint her again. She doesn't deserve it" The way Aaron drifted off at the end made both Derek and Rossi frown. It almost sounded like he was coming up with a solution for your disappointment in his head.

"So what, you're going to break up with her?" Rossi asked, but Aaron was quick to shake his head, his gaze drifting back out the jet window as he sighed.

"I love her too much to lose her" Aaron mumbled, absentmindedly playing with your hair tie he keeps on his wrist at all times, just in case.

"So, keep your promise" The words. The few words Aaron needed to hear to make him run to you, but you didn't want him to run to you.

In fact, you were glad Aaron wasn't with you, otherwise he would've heard your sobs and seen your streaking mascara. Half an hour it took you to actually force yourself up and out of the seat at your vanity. You had wiped off most of your makeup, although getting some of the mascara and eyeliner off was harder so there was a very faint black smudge around your eyes. You'd ran your hands through your hair so many times that the curls had been pulled apart leaving your hair a little frizzier than before.

All you had to do now was take off your shoes and dress. You unbuckled both black heels but before you could slip out of the dress there was a knock at the door. Not having the energy to put up with whoever was on the other side of the door you ignored it, hoping they'd get the memo or that they'd think nobody was home and leave. 15 seconds later though and there was another knock. You left it again, but when the person knocked for a third time you huffed and stormed over to the door.

"Yes?" You grunted swinging open the door and freezing as your eyes met Aaron's dark brown ones. Your hand tightened around the door knob as you shuffled back slightly, not expecting him to be standing there with a bunch of tulips.

"Hi" His voice was so soft, worried you didn't want him there, but turning up anyway cause there was nowhere he'd rather be. Your eyes began to burn, but you quickly blinked away the feeling, licking your bottom lip before looking back up at his face.

"What are you doing here?" Aaron takes a step forward, holding the tulips in one hand, and his go bag in his other.

"Keeping my promise."

"I'm not in the mood to go out anymore" You reply, tucking a bit of your hair behind your ear, Aaron nodding and offering you a soft smile to let you know that's okay. If Aaron was honest, he wasn't in the mood to go out either. He just wanted to stay in with you, forever.

"That's fine. We'll stay in" Aaron noticed the fact your hand was still on the doorknob and the way you hadn't really moved from the front door. You were hesitant to let him in.

"You're supposed to be on your way to Texas" You mumbled, looking away from his face and down at the ground. Aaron took a step forward, and despite the clear fact you weren't overly fond of him in this moment, you didn't move. Because despite being upset, you loved him, and you loved his presence and the warmth he radiated.

"No, the team are on their way to Texas. I'm here with you" He bent his head a little, hoping to catch your eye but still couldn't. He hated seeing anything other than a smile on your beautiful face. Knowing you were upset and it was his fault killed him on the inside.

"You shouldn't be here" You sighed, finally looking up. Aaron's stare trapped you, stopping you from looking away from him. Intense and raw, he held you hostage with just his eyes and even though you were upset, you couldn't deny the way they were able to calm you. Slightly.

"They can manage perfectly fine without me."

"Aaron-"

"I know I don't deserve your forgiveness. I don't deserve a lot, especially you, but I'm going to prove to you that I can deserve you" Aaron stated, placing the tulips on the little table beside the door that you usually chucked your mail on. Then he lightly shut the door, eyes watching you intently as you spoke.

"Aaron, I'm not angry at you. This is your job. I knew that the moment I met you, and I continued to understand that when I realised I was in love with you. But I feel like I'm suffocating here, which I get is ironic for the fact you're not around much-"

"I'm stepping down" The short and sharp confession caught you off guard, your eyes widening as you stared at a deadly serious Aaron. You thought you'd misheard him, but the look on his face told you otherwise. He'd definitely said what you heard, and he definitely meant it.

"What?"

"I've been thinking about it for a while, but on the ride here it became official. I'm stepping down from Unit Chief, I'll stay a profiler in the BAU, but it means a lot less work, and a lot more time here with you-"

"What? No, you can't do that" You quickly interrupted, shaking your head. You couldn't tell him what to and what not to do, but you were going to pretend you could right now in hopes he'd listen, understand and agree.

"It's too late. It's official and effective immediately" You stared, eyes wide in disbelief as they bounced across his face.

"You didn't even want to talk about this with me first?"

"What's there to talk about?" He shrugged.

"Aaron, you've been Unit Chief for ages. If you're stepping down for me-" Your words are cut short as Aaron places his bag on the ground and steps into you. Your lips remain parted and you can't help but melt into him as his hands grasp onto your face, pulling your forehead to his lips momentarily. He pressed a lingering kiss before pulling back and staring deeply into your eyes.

"That's exactly why I'm stepping down, honey. You. Because I love you so god damn much and because being away from you week after week is killing me. At the end of every night I want to fall asleep in bed beside you, not in a crappy motel alone. I want to be here, with you. You're my home, Y/n" Your eyes water the longer you stare at the man you love. He was giving up so much for you and you couldn't help but feel guilty even if he made it clear how much he wanted it.

"Aaron..." You whisper, your gaze jumping between his eyes as he rubs his thumbs along your keep bones. He leans forward and presses his forehead to yours, his eyes remaining on your face even when you close your eyes.

"You're not holding me back from my job, my job was holding me back from you. I'll still be gone here and there, but I will make it my mission to get back to you as soon as possible. This is my decision and there is nothing you could do or say that'd make me change my mind" So dominant, so serious, so definite. This was Aaron's decision to make, not yours, his, and he couldn't be more happier. He was going to miss being Unit Chief, but being with you made up for it and more.

"Are you sure?" You whisper, running your hands up his shoulders and into his hair. Aaron presses his head back into your hands, urging you to run your hands through his hair.

"Yes honey, I'm sure" Aaron whispers back before tilting his head and pressing his lips flush against yours. You suck in a sharp breath, slowly wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulls you tight into his chest, his lips refusing to leave yours even for a second. This was all you both wanted; each other. You ran your hands through his hair before slipping them down until you're cupping his jaw and pulling his mouth from yours.

"I love you" You whisper, leaning forward and brushing your lips back against Aaron's. His breath is hot and minty against your face as he crack's an inevitable smile. You said it back...finally.

"I love you too."

[serialadoptersbracket]

Round 4, Match 4: Kim Dokja vs. Roy Mustang

Submitted kids:

Kim Dokja: Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung are the commonly accepted ones but you can also make a case for Lee Jihye and Biyoo

Roy Mustang: Edward and Alphonse Elric

Propaganda under the cut!

Kim Dokja:

1. “In the first scenario (where you have to murder something alive) his first priority is to make sure Gilyoung makes it out alive (by giving him the grasshopper before letting others know about it), and when the future version of Yoosung (41st round) is going to cause havoc his first plan is to basically the past (his present) version of her so they would have her on her side (he takes her in as his incarnation- if that isn’t an adoption idk what is); Biyoo is literally the soul of 41st Yoosung that he WENT THROUGH AN UNDERWORLD TRIAL to get her back and she is legally his child. Lee Jihye is more like the older sister-teenager of the group be she’s still adopted by association and Han Donghoon is a kid who was hypnotized and exploited by the ‘prophets’ and Kim Dokja saved him and became someone he trusts in- which is basically adopting. Mia is YJH’s little sister but with the family dynamic all of KimCom has she’s basically adopted too. This man is someone who believes the worst in himself but gives all these kids someone they need and in return they are the family he’s never had.”

2. “He saved Lee Gilyoung on the subway when he was orphaned at the time the apocalypse started even when he didn't need to and kept him by his side and fed him at his own expense and believed in him and taught him to be strong when no one else had really done that for Lee Gilyoung before.

MINOR SPOILERS AHEAD (pretty vague):

Shin Yoosung was a character in the world of the apocalypse that occured (long story, won't explain here lol) and she was supposed to be destined to become a monster that would destroy Seoul and the two people other than Kim Dokja who knew this wanted to kill her when they found her to prevent her from becoming that but Kim Dokja refused to kill her and physically stood to protect her and then he later became her sponsor (uhhh it's a whole thing in-universe but basically pledged to back her and help her ig) and the stigma (a special power thing that can be gained through a sponsor) he gave her was based in him protecting everyone in their group and his love for all of them.

Both Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung are extremely attached to Kim Dokja and have on at least one canon occasion slept clinging to either side of him.

LESS MINOR SPOILERS AHEAD (though not terrible ig and still mostly vague at least):

Biyoo is. well she's Shin Yoosung actually but also not. So basically y'know that monster future Shin Yoosung was destined to become? so that monster version of her from a different timeline was sent backwards and sideways in time (idk how else to describe it jskdfs) and nearly did destroy Seoul as prophesied but Kim Dokja tried to save her—and he nearly did but then a shitty dokkaebi (they're like admin streamer people. idk would take a while to explain) did a shitty thing and forced her to be 'evil' and then she had to be killed ;-; but Kim Dokja promised to get revenge for her and after that he went and beat up the asshole dokkaebi who did that so badly that he gained a legendary Story. And then he traveled to the Underworld at risk of his own life to retrieve her soul and put that into a dokkaebi egg that he personally hatched. And she lost her memories for the most part but could still sense a bit what he'd done for her :') and so yeah she became Biyoo and is somehow both adopted and originally parented(?? idk saying biologically is. doesn't feel quite right lol) by him.”

3. “Bro is THE DAD of the group”

4. “Adopted his kids so hard that they’d do like anything for him they love him so much”

Roy Mustang:

1. “This pathetic cringefail loser of a man managed to raise and guide two traumatized children into becoming well-adjusted adults. He also gets bonus points because those kids end up saving the world from disaster.

Also he's hot sometimes”

2. “He has two(2) sons!!!!! Weird little traumatized children!!!! He's also soooo dad shaped(a mass murderer)!!!! He such a loser too!! I love him so much I wanna chew on him <3”

3. “ok i'm not into fma buts its a popular source and my oomfs r into it and i hear a lot about them. like top five things i hear about whenever i hear them talk about fma. hashtag war criminal family swag”

[in-my-feels-probably]

Hello!! I would like to do a request for Carmen Berzatto.

Like imagine Carmy x introvert!shy!sunshine!florist!OC (I picture her like Emmy Rossum in TPOTO and with the name Maria, but at the end is your desicion)

Like she's a florist and works in a flower shop in front of the restaurant of Carmy, and he see her everyday and starts having a crush on her and everyone in the kitchen notice that and tell him to go to talk to her but he's really nervous and scared of being rejected. She also filled of flowers the funeral of Mikey as a "present?" for the family, even though she doesn't know them

Then one day she enters into The Beef and everyone tells Carmy to take her order and he's a ball of nerves

Then one day everyone from the kitchen are watching through the windows him asking her for a date

It can be series or just a one shot, whatever you like. Thank you!!

Good Fortune

Request: Hello!! I would like to do a request for Carmen Berzatto. Like imagine Carmy x introvert!shy!sunshine!florist!OC (I picture her like Emmy Rossum in TPOTO and with the name Maria, but at the end is your desicion) Like she's a florist and works in a flower shop in front of the restaurant of Carmy, and he see her everyday and starts having a crush on her and everyone in the kitchen notice that and tell him to go to talk to her but he's really nervous and scared of being rejected. She also filled of flowers the funeral of Mikey as a "present?" for the family, even though she doesn't know them Then one day she enters into The Beef and everyone tells Carmy to take her order and he's a ball of nerves Then one day everyone from the kitchen are watching through the windows him asking her for a date It can be series or just a one shot,  whatever you like. Thank you!!

Hi! This is my first time writing for Carmy! I do try and write as neutrally as I can, so I’m not gonna describe the reader physically that in detail, and I’m using “Y/N” since it’s an x reader, but you can picture whoever you’d like! Bear with me while I try to get the hang of Carmy’s character. I hope you enjoy it!

(Warnings: swearing, mentions of suicide, death, negative thoughts, insecurity, mentions of carmy’s trauma, let me know if i missed anything)

—

You met Michael for the first time when you were trying to unload a truck delivery to bring into the flower shop. 

You were the only person working that day, and of course it had to be the day shipments were delivered. Crates of potted flowers and plants had been dropped off at your front door, and you could barely lift most of them. By the time the last two were all that remained, your arms were aching and your back was making a sound it definitely shouldn’t have been making. 

Michael had been working across the street, and he could see you through the window. It was a slow day, and he figured it would be alright if he left his employees alone for a few minutes. 

He whistled, getting your attention before he ran across the street. “Need some help?”

You smiled at his kindness, but were a little wary of him. Quite a large man on a quiet street, and you were working alone. He seemed to understand your wariness, giving you a friendly smile. 

“Sorry, I’m Mikey,” he said, offering his hand for you to shake. “I own the Beef’s across the street, I saw you through the window. You looked like you can use some help.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, I can handle it—”

“I can see that,” he smiled. “But seriously, these two look heavy, and I spend most of my day here lifting heavy shit. I can help you out with these last two.” 

You finally relented, opening the door for him. He bent down and lifted the last two in each arm with ease, thanking you as he walked through the door. 

“You can put those right over here,” you pointed as you led him to a shelf in the back. “Thank you.”

“That’s no problem,” he nodded, brushing his hands off on his apron. “Does your boss really make you do all this on your own? Asshole.”

“They didn’t use to, but they changed delivery days from Friday to Tuesday. I’m normally scheduled on Tuesday’s, and lately I’ve been the only one on staff. I guess it’s my responsibility now.”

“That’s bullshit,” he said, making you laugh. “How about I come help you out on delivery days? Or I’ll send someone else from the shop, Lord knows it would help getting them off their asses every once in a while.”

You shook your head. “That’s too much trouble, I can’t let you do all that for free.”

“My Mother would skin me alive if she found out I was standing around without helping you out. Seriously, Tuesday’s are slow for us too, I’m just standing behind the counter doing fuck all anyways. And I am still afraid of my Ma, as any sane man would be. Please, let me help you out. For the sake of saving my skin.” 

You hesitated, but finally relented, giving him a grateful nod. “Fine. But you’re letting me give you something in return.”

You walked over to the crate on the back shelf, opening it up and pulling out a potted plant. 

“That crate you brought in, it’s full of Crassula Ovata. Commonly known as the Money Plant. It brings good fortune…and nobody ever fucking buys it. I don’t know why they keep ordering them. I end up taking them all home because I feel bad about letting them die here. Please, take one. I can bring another over whenever it starts to shrivel up.”

Mikey nodded, accepting the plant from you. “Thank you. I’ll see you next Tuesday, then. Come by the shop if you’re ever hungry, we’ve got the best sandwiches in town.”

“I just might have to take you up on that,” you smiled, thanking him again before he left. 

—

As promised, Michael stopped by every Tuesday to help you unload the deliveries. Every few weeks or so, he’d take a new plant from you, and occasionally ask about how to take care of it. 

You’d grin every time you could see it sitting in the windowsill when you looked across the street. 

For months, you carried on like that. And then one week, Michael didn’t come. The restaurant was closed for two days. You figured maybe he was sick, or on vacation. You didn’t think much of it. 

But on the Thursday of that week, Richie came over to introduce himself. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked stressed and overworked. 

“Do you work at Beef’s? I think I’ve seen you before. You’re Richie, right? Michael talked about you when he’d help me out.” 

“Yeah…yeah, that’s me. Listen, um…Mikey isn’t gonna be helping you out anymore.” 

You furrowed your brows, trying not to sound rude. “Can I ask why? He seemed alright with helping me out a week ago.”

Richie frowned, handing you a newspaper. He pointed to the obituary section, and you gasped when you saw Michael’s name and photo at the top. 

“He died Monday night. I don’t know what kind of arrangement you two had, but he isn’t here anymore. I came to tell you. I could send over one of my guys if you need the help—”

“No,” you interrupted, eyes wide. “No, he was more than enough help, I don’t want to trouble you anymore. I can handle it, it’s my job to do so anyways. I…I’m so sorry for your loss.” 

“Thanks,” he muttered. “No offense, but I don’t know how to take care of that fucking plant of yours he kept bringing in. And I don’t think I can watch it die, too, so would you come take it or something?”

“Of course! Do you want me to come get it now? I know you’re closed.”

“No,” he shook his head, moving back to the door. “I don’t have the key on me. I’ll bring it over when we reopen, I guess. Anywhere you want me to leave it?”

“I’m here most days, so you can leave it with me. If that’s too much trouble, you can leave it outside my door, or yours, whatever is easiest for you. I can come to you if that’s better.” 

Richie listened to you ramble about the plant, hearing the desperation in your voice. He had heard a lot of condolences in the last few days, but yours was the first one he actually believed was genuine. 

“You’re nice,” he muttered. “I can see why he liked you.”

You felt an ache in your chest at his words, and you knew your face had fallen when fresh tears welled in his eyes. 

Richie cleared his throat. “Uh, I don’t know where I’ll be. We’ll probably reopen on Tuesday or something. I’ll do something with the plant then. Thanks.”

And then he was out the door. 

You let out a deep sigh, unable to hold back your tears once Richie left. You looked back down at the newspaper in your hand, reading through the full obituary. 

“Michael Berzatto died on February 22, 2022. He committed suicide on the State Street Bridge, age 42. He would have been 43 this November. He was the owner of The Original Beef of Chicagoland. He is survived by his parents, as well as his sister Natalie, and his brother Carmen. He was loved by many, and will be deeply missed. His funeral arrangements are set for this Saturday amongst his close friends and family.”

Tears landed on the page before you could finish reading. 

Suicide? You knew it was stupid to think that you should have noticed the signs. Apparently, no one noticed the signs, or at least didn’t put the pieces together fast enough to stop him. 

Still, you berated yourself for not noticing anything. He seemed so happy around you, always chatty and smiling. He was such a good soul. You couldn’t believe he was gone. 

And his parents? His siblings? The restaurant? They were all expected to move on, past one of the worst things imaginable that could happen to a family. 

You looked over to the restaurant across the street, seeing all the lights turned off. Through the shuttered blinds, you could see the last plant you had given Mikey. You fought back your tears, willing yourself to be strong. You hardly knew him. There were people grieving who knew him far better than you, and you wished there was something you could do to dull their heartache. 

The information about the funeral said friends and family are welcome. But you couldn’t bring yourself to muster up the courage to go. It wasn’t your place. 

But you could do something for them. You could do something for him. 

That Saturday morning, fresh bouquets and plants were sent to the funeral home where Mikey would be. It was a closed casket, so you had an arrangement made to sit on top of his coffin. It wasn’t much, but it was something you could do for his family. 

You hoped it was beautiful. 

—

That Monday, you returned to work. Beef’s had yet to reopen, but a woman came rushing into the shop just minutes after you clocked in. 

“Are you Y/N?” She asked. 

You nodded, coming out from behind the counter. Suddenly, she pulled you into a hug, squeezing you tight. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, clutching the back of your shirt. “For the flowers. He would’ve loved them.”

You put it together that the woman hugging you was Tina. Mikey told lots of stories about here while he helped you around the shop. She sounded like a good person, but a person whose bad side you never wanted to be on. 

Yet here she was, holding you like you were her own child. 

“I’m so glad you liked them. It was the least I could do, after all he did for me.” 

—

The next day, the restaurant reopened. You watched through the windows as the employees returned to work, one by one going in. Everyone was familiar to you, at least vaguely. 

Except one. 

Later that day, Richie came by with the plant. You took it from him, and he followed you outside as you carefully placed it in the passenger seat of your car. 

“I thought you were going to throw it out.”

You turned around, quickly shaking your head. “Of course not! I never throw away my plants. You should see my apartment, it’s a fucking nightmare with how many I have. I just can’t seem to give them up.”

Richie grinned and nodded, moving to cross the street. Before he could go, you caught his shoulder. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. But who is that? I don’t recognize him,” you asked, pointing across the street. 

Richie turned to look, sighing. “That’s Carmen. Mikey’s little brother. Mikey left the fucking restaurant to him.”

You looked back over across the street. 

Carmy was handsome, that was for sure. He didn’t exactly look like his brother, but you supposed if they were next to each other, they may have looked more alike. He carried himself similarly. Except, he looked tired, and stressed beyond the level any man of his age should be. 

You wondered why Mikey had never mentioned him. The rest of his family, you had heard bits and pieces about. But Carmy? He was a mystery to you. 

“We should be up and running again soon. Do you want to grab something to eat? It’s on the house. For the flowers.”

You shook your head, giving him a grateful smile. “No, that’s alright, I don’t want to bother you while you’re getting adjusted. Maybe another time.”

Richie nodded, clapping your shoulder. “I’ll hold you to that.”

He moved to yell across the street, whistling at Carmy. “Cousin! Be a fucking gentlemen, say hello to the nice florist. She’s the one who sent the flowers.”

Carmy looked up, stopping in his tracks when he saw you looking back at him. You gave him a small smile, waving. He raised his hand in return, before heading inside. 

Richie scoffed. “That little shit didn’t even see them. He wasn’t at the funeral. Showed him a picture, though. He said they were nice.”

“That’s alright,” you said, reassuredly. “I’m glad he liked them.”

—

You kept Michael’s plant in your apartment. 

You took care of it better than any other plant you had, refusing to let it die. A plant like that can live for years and years if well taken care of. It was silly, but to you, you felt like the plant was an extension of Michael. You may have not been able to help him, but you could help his plant. 

And you would be damned if you did anything but save its life.

For the next few days, you arrived at work early. Carmy was usually already there, and you could see him walking around through the window. 

You tried not to watch him, but the shop was incredibly boring during slow days. Beef’s had plenty of slow days too, and you wondered how the business was doing without its previous owner. You wondered how Carmy was doing, filling in for his brother.

You had plenty of days to watch and figure it out.

—

The days went on, and days turned into weeks. 

Across the street, Carmy was shuffling around the kitchen. Richie clocked in, putting on his apron while Carmy started cleaning the grill. 

“Cousin! You wanna tell me why I keep catching you standing in front of the window like a fucking deer caught in the headlights?” 

“I think he’s washed those windows at least four times this week,” Marcus grinned, loading trays into the oven. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Carmy snapped, scraping away at the grill. Everyone laughed, continuing with their work. 

“Got a little crush, Jeff?”

“Want me to go over there and see if she feels the same?” Richie asked, and Carmy stopped what he was doing to look up, glaring. 

“Don’t start. All of you, don’t start.” 

“He is crushing!” Marcus grinned, coming over to wrap his arm around Carmy’s shoulders. “Look at him blush.”

Carmy groaned, shrugging Marcus off of him. “What are you, five years old? I’m not crushing.”

“He’s totally crushing,” Sydney said, not looking up from the vegetables she was chopping. 

Richie nodded, agreeing. “Come on, it’s not a big deal. She’s a pretty girl, it’s good to know that the dumbass culinary school of yours didn’t fuck up your taste. So, why don’t you go do something about it? Go over there, talk to her.”

“Nah, she's not looking at me. I’m too busy, anyways,” Carmy sniffed, completely avoiding everyone’s words as he continued to work. 

“I’ll gladly take over for you—“

“Cousin…drop it,” Carmy said stiffly, clenching his jaw. 

Richie nodded, putting his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, calm down. Jesus, she’s dodging a bullet with you, isn’t she?”

Carmy could hear everyone snicker, and he sighed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I’m gonna go smoke. You all better be acting like semi respectable adults when I get back.”

“Yes, Jeff,” Tina smirked. 

The second he was out of ear shot, everyone turned to each other, laughing. 

“He’s totally crushing.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

—

Carmy took his smoke break just outside the side door. You could see him from the window, pausing what you were doing to watch. 

He sat on the curb, staring off into the distance. 

It wasn’t like they were wrong. From the few times he had seen you close enough to get a good look, you were beautiful. There was no denying that.

But his track record with girls in the past didn’t exactly inspire confidence. He didn’t know how to talk to you. He didn’t understand why you would look at him, if you really were even looking at him at all. What did he have to offer you? Other than a rundown restaurant that he’s barely holding together, and a shit load of trauma he refused to acknowledge that quite literally wakes him up screaming. 

Why would you be interested in that? 

But then he heard a noise across the street, and he looked up to see you opening the door, carting the trash around the side of the building. When you came back around to the front, you saw him still sitting there on the curb, shifting his gaze back and forth from you to his feet. 

The final time he looked up, you were staring back at him, your eyes soft on his form. You gently smiled, waving, before going back into the shop. 

You internally berated yourself the second you rushed inside, leaning against the door. You couldn’t even muster a hello. Just a wave, and then you dashed inside. 

Idiot. 

Although, Carmy didn’t look weirded out by the interaction. He just watched you, with intrigue on his face. 

You decided that later that day on your lunch break, you’d finally take Richie up on that offer and eat at Beef’s. 

You had never actually been inside before. Michael had offered a few times to have you over, but you always politely declined, figuring it was too much trouble. When he died, you couldn’t bring yourself to go in. 

It felt like you’d be stepping into the home of a ghost. 

When Richie offered next, you thought he was just being polite, since you sent the flowers. He didn’t really mean it. But then again, he had offered more than once when you’d pass each other on the street heading into work. So, maybe he really did mean it. 

Either way, you were going to figure it out. Even though the idea of seeing Carmy up close and personal, and in his place of work, made you physically ill. 

You decided you shouldn’t go empty handed, and you picked out yet another Money Plant, acknowledging that you’d make the time to come check on it if nobody else could. 

When lunchtime hit, you mustered up the courage to grab the plant, march yourself across the street, open the door, and step inside. 

At the sound of the door, Richie turned your way, eyes widening. “Y/N? No fucking way. Look at you, you made it all the way across the street.”

“I did,” you smiled, placing the plant in the windowsill. “And I brought this. Don’t worry, I’ll come over and take care of it, if you’ll let me. Or I’ll teach you how. It’s a good luck charm. When this place is booming, you can credit me for it.”

Richie laughed, closing the register and motioning for you to come forward. “I just went on my break, but wait right here. I’ll send someone out for you.” 

You nodded, patiently waiting at the counter while Richie went through the doors and back into the kitchen. 

“Cousin!” You heard him call, and your heart dropped. “Customer! Get your ass out there, I'm going to smoke.”

“Heard!” Carmy called from the kitchen, and you debated bolting out the doors right then and there. 

But you weren’t quick enough, the doors opened, and Carmy came through them before you could get yourself to move. He stopped in his tracks as he saw you, eyes widening. 

“Hi.”

Your voice seemed to snap him out of his haze, and he quickly approached the counter. “Hey. Y/N, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” you nervously smiled. “And you’re Carmen, right?”

“Yeah. But you can call me Carmy, if you want. Everyone back there does. Uh…what can I get you?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never actually eaten here.”

He let out a small laugh, pointing to the board above him. “This is the new menu. Well, newish. We’re still fixing it.”

You felt overwhelmed at all the options, finally tearing your eyes away from the board back towards him. Carmy was looking at you with soft eyes, nervously gripping the counter. 

You cleared your throat. “I’ll have whatever your favorite is. I trust you.”

“That’s a lot of pressure,” he said, scrunching his nose up as he ran a nervous hand through his disheveled hair. He had clearly already done that a few times that morning.

“It shouldn’t be,” you said. “I’ve heard of you before. You know what you’re doing. Pick anything you like, I’m sure it’ll be good.”

“Alright,” he said, ringing you up. The second he was done, Richie peeked his head back through the door. 

“On the house, Carm. She’s earned it.”

“That was a quick smoke break, Richie,” you mused. 

“Well, what can I say? I’m more efficient than these morons back here,” he said, before turning to Carmy. “I’ll entertain her while you’re gone, go make her food.”

Carmy nodded, brushing past Richie before looking back over his shoulder to you. “Don’t listen to anything he says, I guarantee he’s lying.”

You laughed as the two began to squabble, smiling at their bickering. 

Within a few minutes, Carmy had returned with your food, handing it to you with a small smile. You nodded in thanks, telling him you’d see him later, before rushing back across the street so you could finally breathe again. 

“Cousin!” Richie grinned, high fiving Carmy. “You won her over. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I think I’m having a stroke,” Carmy groaned, walking back into the kitchen. “That was terrible.”

Tina cooed at him, squishing his cheeks between her palms. “It was a good effort, mi hijo. You’ll get her next time.”

Marcus and Sydney were in the corner together, snickering at his emotional turmoil. They couldn’t hold in their laughs, grinning at the flush that had crept up to Carmy’s cheeks.

“Fortunately for you, she seems just as enticed,” Sydney noted. 

Marcus agreed, nodding. “You’re line cook hot. Her type, apparently.”

Everyone else in the kitchen looked between each other as Carmy sulked all the way to his office, ignoring their teasing. Tina leaned over to Richie, lowering her voice. 

“What the fuck does ‘line cook hot’ mean?”

—

As promised, you returned in a few days on your lunch break to take care of the plant. You minded your business, hardly listening to the chatter you heard coming from the kitchen. 

“Hey, hon,” Richie called from the window, making you turn towards him. “How was your food?”

“It was good,” you smiled, turning back to the plant. “Good to see you haven’t killed this yet.”

“Marcus has a green thumb, apparently. Googled what to do. Between the two of you, that fucking plant is probably gonna outlive me.”

You laughed, finishing and coming to stand over by the counter. “It’s a surprisingly hard plant to kill.”

“I bet I could manage it,” he laughed, nodding back to the kitchen. “Give me a minute, someone wants to talk to you.”

You nodded, albeit nervously, remaining in front of the counter. You rocked back and forth on your heels, straining to listen to bits and pieces of the conversation in the kitchens. It was hard to decipher who’s voice was whose.

“Just do it, Jeff! Man up.”

“She won’t say no, look at the way she smiles at you.”

“If you don’t do it, I will for you. That’s a promise, cousin.”

That seemed to be enough to light a spark in Carmy. “Richie, shut the fuck up. Everyone, shut the fuck up. I’ll fire you all if you embarrass me.”

“Jeff? Even me?” Tina asked in a voice that made you stifle your laughter. 

You heard footsteps shuffle, shouts from multiple voices, and then a loud smack. You furrowed your brows in confusion, unable to decipher what was happening. 

“What the fuck!” Richie exclaimed. “That’s my chopping arm.”

“Shut up,” Carmy spoke through clenched teeth. “Shut up. I’ll go, but you’re all staying in here. I swear to God, if I see a single one of you out there—“

“Yeah, yeah. Go!”

There was more shuffling, and finally, Carmy broke through the door. He stumbled to a stop on the opposite side of the counter from you.

“Hi,” you smiled, tapping your fingers on the counter. “Did I just hear your slap Richie?”

Carmy nodded, letting out a laugh. “Uh…yeah. He deserved it, though, I promise.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

Carmy looked at you with soft eyes, a small smile on his face. It was quiet a moment before he shook his head, clearing his throat. 

“So…would, uh…would you maybe wanna go out sometime? You know, somewhere other than the restaurant or the flower shop one hundred feet across the street from each other?”

“Like, away from the people currently staring through the window at us right now?” You asked, glancing over at the faces peering from the kitchen.

As you both turned to face them, their heads quickly dropped from the window. You heard them scramble for their work stations, coming up with random conversations to pretend like they weren’t just watching and listening to your every word. 

Carmy stifled a groan, clenching his jaw at the sight. His cheeks flushed a rosy pink. 

You laughed, turning his attention back to you. “It’s alright, I don’t mind. It’s sweet they care.”

“Yeah, they care,” he mused, nodding. “Enough to want me to die of embarrassment.”

With a bolt of courage, you laid your hand on top of his, giving it a squeeze. “You’ll just have to take me somewhere they’re not, then. If that’s alright with you?”

Carmy smiled, a genuine smile. “Yeah, that’s definitely alright with me.”

Suddenly, a chorus of cheers erupted from the kitchen. Half of them high fived each other at their stations, while the other half came bursting through the doors. 

Richie came over to you, squeezing you around the waist as he picked you up. “Yes! Way to go, Y/N.”

“You had it in you after all,” Tina grinned, patting Carmy on the chest. 

“Jesus, get back in the kitchen, both of you. Tell the others to calm the fuck down, it wasn’t a marriage proposal. They’re gonna break something back there.”

Tina finally relented, coming around the corner to grab Richie before pushing him back through the doors to the kitchen. 

You smiled fondly at them, before turning back to Carmy. “They’re enthusiastic.”

“Yeah,” he grinned, leaning his shoulder against yours as he watched them continue to celebrate through the window. “But they kick my ass into gear when I need them to. Worked in my favor this time, didn’t it?”

You nodded, trying and failing to fight the heat rushing to your face. 

“It worked in mine, too.”

—

A/N - Hi! Got a bit carried away with this one. I hope you enjoyed it, though. I don’t completely love the outcome, but it was my first try with his character, so hopefully I did alright. Let me know what you think!

[humbledragon669]

S2E1 - The Arrival Write Up P3 - the Present Day from the introduction of Maggie and Nina up to The Box

Alright, I’ve already written two whole blogs on this episode and I haven’t even gotten through the first 15 minutes of it so let’s jump straight in with Nina’s opening line:

NINA: See anything you fancy?

I mean, if that’s not a blatant display of foreshadowing, I don’t know what else you need. And given Maggie’s rather shy disposition, I have to say I think she handles it pretty well. Goodness knows what must be going through her head. Actually, I think I know exactly what’s going through her head:

I think she pulls it off. Just. What I find interesting about Nina’s response is that she simultaneously manages to flatter Maggie by remembering her order and highlight that she’s completely distanced from her by referring to her as the drink she orders.

NINA: You’re a skinny latte.

I mean, I don’t know about you, but I’d much rather the love of my life call me by my name, rather than by the coffee I order. Maggie doesn’t seem to care though, she’s just delighted that Nina remembers anything about her:

That delight lasts all of a few seconds before Nina manages to give her another label that she’s probably not looking for – that of “a regular”. It’s a little painful to see the joy on Maggie’s face dissolve into disappointment as she realises that the reason her coffee order has been recalled is more to do with the frequency of her attendance in the coffee shop than the object of her desires actually paying her any attention.

Now I don’t know about you, but I had already formed an opinion about Nina by this point in the show, and that opinion is that she’s not very nice. Here’s the line that did it for me:

NINA: You work in the record shop don’t you? Don’t know who actually buys records in this day and age.

I mean, really? The owner of a boutique record shop, one of your customers, someone you barely know, has come to support your own local business, and you repay their loyalty by undermining their career choice? At the very least, I’d call that rude. There are a couple of extenuating circumstances around this that I would like to look at, and they are pretty starkly contrasting – let’s start with the bad vibes first.

I have seen it said before that female characters in the creator’s work are grossly subject to sexist bias. I can fully understand that stance – if we look at the female characters in the original Good Omens novel, we can see that women are characterised as inherently “bad” (the nuns), stupid (Madame Tracy was explicitly described as such), or overly sexualised (the physical appearances of both Anathema and War are regularly described with regards to their attractiveness). If that’s true, we can see those characterisations continuing here – Nina is the “bad” character, Maggie the “stupid” one (not my personal opinion!). This all makes me very uncomfortable.

The good vibes scenario is to do with positive representation of neurodivergence. We know that both characters are based on the real-life personalities of the actors playing them; it’s largely why they both kept their own names. We also know that Maggie Service herself is neurodivergent, which her social awkwardness could potentially be attributed to. What if Nina (the character, I make no claims about Nina Sosanya) is also neurodivergent? That might explain her bluntness in this particular situation – she’s just saying what she’s thinking after all. Given that that the author himself has confirmed that both Crowley and Aziraphale show neurodivergent behaviours, and that it’s fairly common fandom opinion that Nina and Maggie are a mirror for Crowley and Aziraphale, that would strengthen that theory. Not to mention that the show as a whole works to showcase equality for all, whether it be in terms of sexuality, ability, or race/creed.

I think we would all say that we’d rather the latter of these two possibilities is actually what the show is aiming for. There’s just something about the first possibility that nags at me though. I want to believe it’s the second thing (even if that makes me quick to judge), I really do. Perhaps recent events have just made me very cynical. *sigh* Shall we move on to naked John Hamm?

Can we just take a moment to appreciate how tongue-in-cheek accurate the exclamation that both Maggie and Nina choose to use is? Gabriel being both “holy” and, from what we’ve seen so far, an absolute “shit”. Love it. On another quick side note, somebody forgot to make sure that this extra knew how to use a phone convincingly:

What exactly is she doing, smashing away at her phone screen like that? Multiple pictures perhaps, but it seems unlikely.

Continuing on Gabriel’s skyclad promenade, we’re introduced to some no longer inanimate tomatoes. I feel like there has been quite a lot of discussion about that shot, which is not surprising given that the editors have gone out of their way to include it. Maybe the stall was knocked by somebody on their way to try and get a glimpse of the naked man (not unlikely), but we don’t get any suggestion of that. A few of them even roll across the road, causing Gabriel to step over them. Honestly, I don’t have any theories about this single shot, but I do wonder if there might have been a bit more in the original script for the episode. Having completed the script-to-screen comparisons, it was evident that the author wrote (often unnecessarily) extensive stage directions; perhaps there was something in those that would have explained this singular shot. If anybody has any thoughts, let me know – I do like the idea of Gabriel “upsetting the apple cart” but I don’t know why they wouldn’t just have used apples in that was the case, particularly as there are already some right there on the stall:

Alright, next point of note. Gabriel goes directly to the bookshop door. Do not pass Go, do not collect £200. He walks straight past the door in the pub that we later come to see is the door to the elevator to Heaven. Something to bear in mind here is that we don’t actually know where Gabriel has come from to get here and he already has quite the following as he walks down Whickber Street. How long has he been walking through the streets of London in his state of undress?! Considering how little information he has retained from his tenure as supreme archangel, he must have some sort of strange homing beacon to know to go to Aziraphale’s bookshop.

Next question – why does Aziraphale treat his record so roughly when he’s interrupted by Gabriel knocking on the door? Considering the fact that he explicitly says that this type of record can be difficult to obtain, and the pleasure he clearly gets from listening to them, why risk scratching the one playing with his actions? As a matter of fact, have we ever had any indication that Shostakovich is one of Aziraphale’s favoured composers? He wasn’t on the list that Crowley reeled off in St. James’s Park all those years ago when the Antichrist was born, not even on the slightly extended version in the book. Urgh, there’s that ridiculous thought again – that’s not Aziraphale. I seriously can’t see how that thought could play out long term, but this is certainly uncharacteristic behaviour from our angel.

Alright, that’s quite enough of the questions for now. Let’s have a look at this delicious sequence of micro-expressions from Aziraphale when he opens the door:

Aside from the fact that the first thing he pays any attention to (despite the fact that Gabriel is standing not more than a foot away from him) is the crowd of people amassed outside the book shop (something I think is probably influenced by what I take to be a reflexive look to the Bentley’s usual parking space), what I find very interesting about this is that he doesn’t register any shock until he sees Gabriel’s face. Let me repeat that for a second and let it sink in – he’s not shocked that there’s a naked man on his doorstep, he’s shocked that it’s Gabriel. And if that wasn’t enough food for thought, tell me these are the hands of a being who isn’t hardwired to return an embrace:

Those fingers are curled people. Reflexively grabbing. He’s also raised them to return the embrace (when you look at the previous shot, they’re relaxed by his sides). Probably good for him that his common-sense kicks in and stops him from completing the action he has started instinctively – maybe that’s something to do with whatever it is that catches his attention here:

I want to talk a little bit about Gabriel’s demeanour in this sequence. It’s clear that he has no idea that nakedness is a thing that isn’t really done in public. In fact, he appears not to even understand the concept of being naked at all:

GABRIEL: Who told you I was naked?

A little while ago, I’m pretty sure I read a post about this particular quote being a biblical reference to Adam not knowing what nudity is, or its connotations, until after he eats the apple. If anybody knows where this is, I’d be grateful for the link, as I couldn’t find it. Google has informed me that the Christian lore is that Adam felt no shame about his nudity until after eating the forbidden fruit. What I find really interesting about the parallel with this scene is that whilst Gabriel feels no shame for being naked, Aziraphale is fully aware of the connotations with nakedness in human society. More importantly, he’s clearly experiencing an emotional response to the situation. I take this to be a clear indicator that he has truly “left the garden” and embraced humanity; my thinking is that the knowledge of nakedness might prompt the angel to inform Gabriel of the nakedness but wouldn’t invoke an emotional reaction. Which, to be fair, he might not be feeling so strongly if he would just stop LOOKING AT IT.

So I lied, I do have one more question about this scene, and it’s to do with Aziraphale’s response to Gabriel asking if he can come in.

That’s a pretty strong, even physical, response. What I’d quite like to know is how much of it is because Gabriel is naked, and how much is that Gabriel is… well, Gabriel. Personally, the latter of those two options doesn’t sit right; Aziraphale doesn’t really know what’s going on with Gabriel at this point, but he does know that he doesn’t appear to have any memories that would make him a threat. And let’s not forget to mention the change in his eye colour – they were purple in the first season, now they’re just John Hamm-coloured (which makes me wonder what exactly it is that causes the eye colouration in the first place). It’s clear that the man standing on the bookshop doorstep is not the supreme archangel that Aziraphale had come to fear in season 1, and Gabriel has actually been more than pleasant (nudity aside) up to this point. So that would suggest the violence of that reaction is largely to do with the nakedness, which brings us back to the whole “Aziraphale has left the Garden” point I made earlier. Not to mention that having a naked man in his shop, regardless of the identity of said man, is not going to go down well with his husband Crowley. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Quick point to reiterate what I was saying about Nina earlier on.

I mean, this just feels downright rude to me. It’s not the deliberate attempt to keep Maggie at a distance by insisting on referring to her as her coffee order, it’s the dismissive “I know who you are” (which is delivered immediately after the two of them seem to share a joke between them). Honestly, I feel like Maggie could do better for herself at this point. Anywho.

Moving swiftly through the tiny scene with Michael’s celestial telephone conversation, the next thing we see is Aziraphale being a lovely host to his new naked manfriend.

Ah lovely. Wait, what? Doesn’t Gabriel abhor the idea of consuming human food and drink?

 Yes, yes he does. So what initially appears to be a charming gesture of welcome from the principality is actually a beautifully subtle (and actually quite malicious, given Gabriel’s acute vulnerability here, what with the memory lost) “fuck you”. And all delivered with some helpful information about what it’s called and what to do with it. Just another little reminder that Aziraphale is very capable of indulging in some deliciously demonic characteristics when it suits him.

I’m really interested in how this whole memory loss thing actually functions – it’s clear that Gabriel has no idea who he is (he explicitly says so) and has no memory that drinking human drinks is something he doesn’t partake of. That said, he does seem to understand that “drinking” is something he’s never done before, and that hot chocolate is something he hasn’t experienced (see the cautious sniff he gives the mug). To make things all the more confusing, he also seems to understand certain social cues – he knows that Aziraphale recognised him when he arrived at the bookshop. That latter point is somewhat ironic, given his previous lack of knowledge around human social conventions.

And let’s not forget that change in eye colour (which reverts in later scenes where he actually manages to access some of his old memories, despite him not “opening” the fly). What exactly is it that has been extracted from his being and stored in the fly? Because it sure doesn’t feel like “his memories” really covers all the bases. I don’t think it’s that important, it’s just something I wonder about.

Alright it’s time to talk about a moment that has already been discussed A LOT:

GABRIEL: You know what it’s like when you don’t know anything at all and that you’re totally certain that everything would be better if you were just near one particular person?

Other than adding to my wondering about what exactly Gabriel has had extracted into the fly (seeing as this is how he is describing his instincts to go to Aziraphale), his side of the conversation here is fairly obvious. What we’re all more interested in is Aziraphale’s reactions to the question, more specifically his facial expressions because the King of Micro-Expressions is about to put his superpower to work. But first a warm-up. Have a look at this look of disbelief (not to mention the start of a tiny headshake “no”) at the first half of the question:

My take on the subtext going on here is something along the lines of “well, no, I really don’t know what that’s like. I’m far too intelligent and clever for that to be the case. What a ludicrous suggestion”. And I have come to that conclusion because that is exactly what I would be thinking in that situation :D Let’s move on to the second part of Gabriel’s question and move into micro-expression time!

What’s that Aziraphale? You know exactly what he’s talking about now? Your tiny head nod “yes” has somewhat given the game away on that one. I’ve slowed that GIF down massively so you can see it, and if you’re still in any doubt, just watch the lock of hair in the middle of his forehead when that scene plays at full speed – it’s undeniable. And if you thought that micro-expression was tiny, let’s have a look at the next one.

That GIF is slowed down to a tenth of the original speed. Which means the original expression flies across his face for less than a third of a second. I don’t have the words to express how impressed I am at this. That third of a second tells us that not only does Aziraphale know exactly how this feels, but that it’s a happy place for him to be. That tiny smile, combined with the accompanying script, tells us more about what he feels for Crowley than an entire season could.

This extreme reaction has me interested. I think the reason behind it could be one of two things; the first possibility is that Aziraphale thinks he’s being tricked into leaking some pretty revealing information. Feasible, but given that Gabriel’s memory is well and truly absent, this seems unlikely. My second thought is that he’s concerned that Gabriel feeling that way towards him indicates some sort of arrangement that he does not want to commit to. This feels truer to me, not least because he goes out of his way to distance himself from the subject matter, in both verbal and physical ways. There’s a feeling that he wants to vehemently discourage any exploration of what Gabriel’s feelings towards him could be, and what the consequences are. And, to be fair to him, he only has his own feelings to base that assumption off of; after all, if Gabriel feels about him the way that he feels about Crowley this mystery person that makes everything alright, there are certain human conventions about where Gabriel might be expecting things to be headed. And this is some classic Aziraphale flustering, isn’t it? Get into an uncomfortable situation, it’s time to make exaggerated physical gestures (not to mention unnecessary mouth movements) to try and dispel the tension. Those little sub-conscious giveaways will become very important later. But I’m getting ahead of myself again.

In this particular situation, he undoes his flustering hard work with a dreadful little nervous smile.

Honestly, this angel is totally incapable of not wearing his heart on his sleeve. It’s a good job that Gabriel is both clueless and harmless at this point. Let’s have a look at one last micro-expression before I get out of the weeds.

What… what is this? Because the thing I feel like it looks like the most is disappointment – the shallow intake of breath, downcast eyes, THE GULP… All topped off with the expression at the end, which we’ve seen before:

One major difference – the last time we saw it, he had reason to be disappointed, having mistakenly believed that angelCrowley was calling him gorgeous. I can’t understand what Aziraphale would have to be disappointed about here, unless it’s an ego thing. Perhaps I’m misinterpreting the whole reaction to being told the only reason Gabriel said what he did was actually more to do with the bookshop than the person in it is because he feels like he’s just dodged a bullet (pun totally intended), but that just doesn’t sit well with me.

I think I’ve droned on about this tiny section of this episode for far too long already (I knew this season was going to be something of a mission!), but I do want to touch briefly on the way that Gabriel reacts to drinking his cocoa. Aside from this being a really charming representation of the experience of drinking a hot, sweet cup of hot chocolate, what Gabriel’s reaction re-enforces the idea that these are sensations he’s never experienced before, which circles me back around to that whole logistics of memory wiping thing again. Don’t get me wrong, I love this version of Gabriel – there’s a childlike innocence about him that’s probably closer to humanity’s version of innocence than Heaven’s version, and the resulting comedy is gold – I just struggle with the specifics of this particular story-telling device. That said, we do get to see (and mostly hear) Aziraphale go into complete panic mode just because Gabriel has never experienced hot liquid arriving in his tummy before.

A Clue for the eventual end of season 3 or terrible ironic foreshadowing for the end of season 2? Probably 50/50 to be honest. Or at least I really hope so.

Oh, one last thing, and this one I didn’t catch until this write up. When we see the box on the doorstep of the bookshop (how adorable is it that Gabriel says his arms were getting tired from carrying an empty box by the way?), the fly is not in the box. You read that right, the FLY IS NOT IN THE BOX. This one was difficult to catch – I tried to GIF it, but it wasn’t clear enough, so a couple of images will have to do, and you can go back and watch it with the tip of your nose an inch from the screen like I did.

It is SUPER hard to see. It might look like the change in position is to do with the change in camera angle, but not so – the fly actually walks across the top of the box, and right at the end, disappears into the tiny gap were the flaps of the box meet. So to recap, not in the box whilst it sits on the doorstep (was it ever in there?) but definitely in the box when Aziraphale picks it up and takes it in inside. Again, this is one of those things that I don’t necessarily think is important, but it is a really lovely little Easter egg for the eagle eyed.

I definitely have rambled on too long for this section (how can this be part 3, and I’m not even half way through the episode yet?!), so I’m wrapping it up there. As always, questions, comments, discussions, always welcome. See you for the next one – I really will try not to be so ridiculously microscopic.