#and how it would be better if they didn't or straight up are not there

[wosospacegirl]

Stuck with you - part 10

Summary: Y/n’s used to Alexia’s overprotectiveness and the pressure of her career—but Kika? The shy, socially awkward teammate who’s starting to make her feel things she didn’t expect.

Warnings: Alexia and the girls are orchestrating a plan; there are no chairs left, and a game of charades makes everything messier than it was—thank you, Alexia!

Word count: 5k

a/n: omg...first kiss?! :O

..

It had been two weeks since Y/n and Kika last talked. Two weeks since the park incident.

Alexia, of course, couldn't mind her own business–something she didn't do before meeting Olga. Olga had taught Alexia the fine art of nosiness, and she had absolutely run with it.

Since Y/n refused to say anything about the whole situation (again), Alexia went straight to Kika instead.

At first, Kika tried to avoid her, but after Alexia convinced Romeu to do separate groups based on the players' positions, Kika had nowhere to run. 

The downside of this plan was that everyone could see that Alexia and Kika were having a conversation, and worst of all, Vicky could hear it too.

Vicky was Alexia's baby. 

She would never admit it to anyone, but the kid had a special place in her heart, not the same as Y/n (which Alexia also wouldn't admit), but when she saw Vicky listening to their conversation and making hand gestures to Y/n and Jana on the other side... she snapped.

Vicky looked sad, but Alexia bought her a box of chocolates after training, and the kid was happy again.

What really struck Alexia was how dumb and dramatic Y/n and Kika both were.

When Kika explained what happened, completely stumbling over her words and feeling nervous that her captain was asking her about it, Alexia didn't even know how to react.

She knew Kika was a sweetheart–a little awkward, sure–but from the way she told the story, Alexia could tell she hadn't meant to say what she said. She was just nervous and blurted it out.

Yeah, she could have worded it better, but still... Y/n was also too impatient; she didn't even stay to hear what Kika really had to say. 

Alexia was trying to tell that to Y/n, but the kid was stubborn and didn't want to have any conversation surrounding Kika.

Alexia tried multiple times to explain it, though. Always in the car, always after training, when she knew Y/n couldn't run away from the conversation. She would start the engine, wait for Y/n to climb into the passenger seat, and then properly trap her.

"Kikinha didn't mean it," Alexia said for what felt like the twelfth time that week. "I talked to her. She said she was anxious and just... blurted it out."

Y/n pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling sharply. 

Her day had been awful. She had twisted her ankle during a training session, which meant two days off training and physio with Paulo.

 Paulo wasn't her favourite physiotherapist; he always pulled and pressed too hard on her skin, and it hurt more than it helped. Her favourite physiotherapist was Luana, and she was on vacation somewhere warm with her family.

At least someone on the Barcelona team was having the time of their life, enjoying a good beach with people that mattered. Clearly, that person wasn't Y/n, not when she was trapped in a car with La Reina.

"Alexia," Y/n muttered, eyes closed. "Why are you so invested in me and Kika? Just leave us alone. Hell, leave me alone."

She tried to open the door, but Alexia had locked it. 

Great.

"Because I think she's a great girl–"

"Alexia!" Y/n snapped, turning to look at her. "I don't need you to tell me who you think I should date or not. It's not up to you!"

"Vale, vale" [okay, okay] Alexia said, raising her hands as if she was guilty, which she was. "No need to yell at me."

"I have every reason to yell at you," Y/n grumbled under her breath.

The rest of the car ride was in silence. For a moment, it seemed like Alexia had finally given up. But of course not. 

She had a plan. And plans needed collaborators.

Alexia was Capitana; after all, she could get people to help her with the snap of her fingers.

..

First, she talked to Romeu. 

It was a very professional conversation, or Alexia tried to make it out to be.

"I need you to pair Kika and Y/n together during training–always", Alexia said casually, as they watched the team run drills during her water breaks, her bottle in her left hand.

Romeu raised an eyebrow, looking at Alexia weirdly. 

Normally, Alexia wouldn't really ask stuff like that. "And why would I do that?"

"They have good chemistry," Alexia replied.

"On the pitch? You mean?"

"...Sí," Alexia said, watching as Y/n made a pass and sent it to Kika, who passed it to Pina for a goal.

Cata didn't even try to save it. Goal.

Romeu sighed, understanding where Alexia was going with it and already regretting it. "Just don't get me fired. And if y/n asks me anything, I'll tell her it's all you, Putellas."

..

Y/n started noticing a pattern, and it was starting to piss her off.

Every training, every drill, every media duty... she and Kika were always stuck together. Even when it made no logical sense. Even if it clearly wasn't the easiest choice.

When the media team asked for two pairs to film a card game challenge for the barça youtube channel, Vicky and Jana were already paired up, and Esmee (who had been sitting next to Kika) was absolutely ready to go. But somehow, the staff asked Esmee to switch with Y/n.

Y/n, who wasn't even mic’d up. 

Who didn't even know what card game they were playing. Who didn't even know they had any media duty that day because it obviously wasn't sent to her own personal agenda.

She wasn't even with them; she was stretching on the other side of the pitch among other girls, when Carla yelled her name and beamingly asked her to join them.

She couldn't say no. Be all in a day's work.

In the end, Y/n was the only one out of the four girls who was still in her training kit. Her once-white shorts were green from the grass, her hair a messy ponytail, her neck still dripping sweat while Kika, Jana, and Vicky looked pretty, clean, and even had makeup on.

It would be comical if it weren't so ridiculous.

Jana and Vicky were sitting on one side of the table, while Kika and Y/n were on the other, the last two awkwardly playing Uno and trying not to make eye contact while pretending to be excited for the camera in front of them, talking about the most ridiculous things Carla could ask them.

"What's your most embarrassing moment?" Carla asked just as Y/N tossed a nine red on the table.

"Hmm…I once took a screenshot of my Instagram DMs and didn’t realise the other person would get a notification," Jana said, throwing down a nine green.

Y/N didn’t have any greens. 

She was already hating the game.

"Once I fell at La Masia and my pants literally tore. I had to borrow another girl’s shirt to cover myself. It was so embarrassing," Vicky said, putting down a 'choose the colour' card. 

She chose yellow.

Yes! Y/N had yellow.

"When I was a kid, my cousin dared me to steal eggs from this little farm shop near our house. I did it, my dad caught me, and he made me apologise for each egg in front of every single customer there," Kika said, smiling. "I’m still not a fan of scrambled eggs to this day."

They all laughed, even Y/N. But her smile disappeared when Kika placed another 'pick a color' card and chose fucking green.

"It's your turn, Y/N," Carla said.

Y/N frowned, drawing a card from the deck. 

Red. Nope.

"Well, my most embarrassing moment is…" Another card. five blue. "That once I pretended to read this book–" Seven yellow. Still no green. "--and I got caught. I hadn’t read a single page."

The air around the table shifted a little. Jana gave her a knowing look, Vicky was grinning, and Kika stared, surprised, like she hadn’t expected Y/N to bring that up. Well, Y/n didn't expect it either; it just came out.

Y/N ignored them and pulled one more card. Finally, eight green.

She placed it on the pile, and the game kept going.

After that, Y/n and Kika barely spoke. Kika looked like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. Y/N didn’t ask either. 

She needed a shower desperately.

So, once again, everything stayed polite and cordial between them…professional. Y/N didn’t know if she liked that or not.

Still, it felt good to say something about the book club. It made her feel lighter. Maybe the fans wouldn’t understand when they saw the video, but Kika would. That mattered.

..

It continued. 

The weird pattern that no one was acknowledging, the pattern that only Y/n seemed to notice. Y/n hadn't told anyone about it either. Who would she even talk to? 

Alexia? Jana? 

She knew they were behind it all. It would make zero sense to ask them to stop. It was like they were playing a twisted game of puppets with Y/n and Kika. As if they were dogs that they could take on walks together for the sole reason of socialisation. 

Still, Y/n couldn't tell how much Kika was involved in it. Given Kika's personality, she probably didn't know anything. Kika wasn't like that, she was more of a 'go with the flow' type of girl.

She would not force any interaction between y/n  and herself. She hadn't done it before, no reason to start now.

Kika always looked genuinely surprised when they ended up paired together in random team duties, like she wasn't expecting that to happen. As if it hadn't crossed her mind. 

It had only confirmed what Y/n already knew deep in her heart: it was definitely Alexia and the other girls doing it. 

They were pulling some strings to get Y/n and Kika together as much as they could. At first, it was okay; Y/n even thought it was rather funny how they would go out of their way to make it happen.

But now? It was getting weird.

And not awkward weird–but amateurish weird.

They weren't subtle before, and now they weren't even trying to hide it.

And it was distracting. 

In less than a few days, Y/n  and half of the Barça girls were leaving for Las Rozas de Madrid, a city near Madrid, where the Spain confederation would gather for another camp.

She needed to focus. She already got called up, alongside Alexia, Jana and other girls, but it didn't mean she could slack off.

Still, it looked like Y/n was the only one who actually cared about representing Spain's colours.

Last week, Y/n and Sydney were having lunch, just the two of them. Sydney was talking about the online school program she was doing, and Y/n was invested. 

Alexia made her go to a regular school, even after she got promoted to the A team at a young age, so it was fun to see how different it was now.

Everything was normal…until Kika showed up..

She stood by the table with that awkward smile on her face–the one that made y/n want to kiss her right away– asking if she could sit with them because all the tables were occupied.

Y/n and Sydney nodded, of course.

But even as y/n  smiled politely, putting her chair a bit to the left to give space to Kika, Y/N glanced around. 

All the tables were full? The restaurant had barely opened. And it wasn't like Barcelona's restaurant would get a lot of people. Most of those who ate there were players and staff members.

But then, y/n, she saw it. Right by the corner of her eyes, trying not to get caught.

Ona, pushing a table three times her size back into the 'storage room', a small room hidden on the left side of the restaurant, near the bathrooms.

Sydney and Kika were engaged in a conversation that y/n didn't pay much attention to. She took a sip of her water, and then turned her head to the other side– her eyes widened when she saw it: Alexia and Esmee were moving chairs, putting them against a wall…?

This was getting out of control.

Did they think they were in a rom-com novel? Did they think it was funny? Cute?

"Oh, no!" Sidney said suddenly, eyes fixed behind Kika.

Y/N followed her gaze. Vicky was at another table, attempting (badly) to make hand signs. Vicky should just quit the whole hand gesturing thing and stick with talking.

Before Kika could turn around and catch her, Sydney stood up from her chair.

"Sorry guys,” she said quickly. “I-I have to go, hmm, dentist appointment."

Y/n looked at her deadpan. 

"Dentist? We have training, team training in the afternoon."

Sydney shrugged. "I can't miss it…brace stuff," she pointed at her teeth. 

Braceless teeth.

"You don't even have any braces on!" y/n  said exasperatedly.

"I'm getting them today!" Sydney said, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, bye you two. Have a good lunch.

Y/n and Kika were alone at the table.

Y/n was mad. She ate her fish, cutting it with more force than necessary. Kika was quiet, but she could feel her eyes on her. 

She was nervous, y/n could tell.

"Uhm," Kika said finally, "they’re acting weird, right?"

Y/N blinked. "Huh?"

She pointed at Alexia's, Vicky's and Esmee's table. They all looked innocent now, eating and chatting. As if they hadn't moved actual furniture from the Barcelona restaurant just to play dolls with Y/n and Kika.

“It’s like they’re doing something behind my back,” Kika said. “And I don’t really know what it is.”

“Yeah,” Y/N muttered, “I feel that too.”

“Do you know what they’re doing?”

Y/N stared at her. At her warm brown eyes. At her shiny black hair that somehow always looked like it had just been washed. It always smelled good.

“I think I have an idea,” she said.

..

Y/n was halfway through taking off her shirt in the changing room when she caught sounds coming from the door. Some were giggles that she immediately recognised as Vicky and Sydney. Others were low grunts, annoyed, those came from Aitana and Marta.

Y/n knew exactly what it meant. 

Her eyes flicked to the calendar stuck on Ona's cubby: Thursday. 

The second Thursday of the month.

Merda.

She had to hide.

Quickly, Y/n slammed her cubby and slipped out the door toward the showers. She stepped inside and froze, barely daring to breathe, not moving a muscle as she tried to blend in.

Is that why hunted animals felt? It felt weird to have this much adrenaline on her body if she wasn't on the pitch.

Then, she heard.

Unmistakable.

"Nenaaa," Alexia called dramatically, dragging out the last syllable.

Y/n counted her breaths, the sound of her heart beating against her ribs louder than she wanted. 

She felt like she had to pee. She always did when she was nervous. When she was a kid, she hated hide and seek because of that. She always had to leave her hiding spot to go to the bathroom.

She felt like a kid again. 

But it wasn't her mom who was after her,

It was Alexia.

Alexia was much worse.

The shower door slammed open, and one by one, the curtains next to her were pulled back with an aggressive clang of metal.

Death was near. 

It was coming for her.

Her stomach dropped, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst, and then, Alexia yanked open the curtain next to her, a mischievous grin across her face.

"Well, hello there."

Y/n screamed, making Alexia roll her eyes.

"Ay, dramática!" Alexia teased, but she was already reaching out to pull Y/n from the shower.

"Alexia! No," Y/n snapped, standing her ground. "I'm not going."

"Yes, you are," Alexia said firmly. "You've gotten away the last four times because you were–" she made quotation marks with her fingers, "--cramping."

"Not my fault you always pick the stupidest days when I actually am on my period!" Y/n shot back.

"You are going."

"No, I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm your captain, you need to do as I say!" Alexia insisted, voice sharp.

Y/n scoffed right in her face, stepping aside and turning around on Alexia. "Oh, please."

Alexia begged, hands raised as if she were ready to plead for something. "Just this once."

"No."

"Nena!"

"Alexia, I'm not playing fucking charades with the team."

"Why not?" Alexia asked, raising an eyebrow as Y/n pulled open the bathroom door.

"Because Kika will be there, and I still can't look her in the eyes without feeling like an idiot."

Y/n should have been smarter.

She should have seen the way Alexia's eyes widened the moment she said Kika's name. She should have known better than to mention something about someone in a bathroom connected to the locker room.

As the door swung open, there they all were…the whole team, including Kika. Kika looked red, shifting uncomfortably on her feet, while the rest of the players exchanged awkward looks.

They had just overheard Y/n saying she didn't want to join Barcelona's weekly team bonding because of Kika. Because she felt weird.

Great.

At least she hadn't said that looking at Kika made her feel stupid because of how pretty she was. That would have been way more embarrassing.

Y/n barely looked at anyone as she pushed past them, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her face set in a scowl that said she just wanted to get out of there.

Alexia was right behind her.

"You're coming, right?" she asked in that annoying manner of hers, using her captain voice, as if Y/n couldn't say no even if she wanted to.

Alexia always got her way. 

She always did that by being annoying…she annoyed people until they gave up. It worked for her with everything.

Y/n mumbled something in a low voice, it was more like a grumble. 

"She's coming," Alexia called out loudly, grinning as the rest of the team nearby cheered. "Yay!"

Y/n rolled her eyes hard.

Idiotas, she thought.

"It's gonna be fun!" Vicky said happily, wrapping an arm around Esmee. "It's the last game night before the international break–we need to…bond!"

"Yes!" Pina chimed in. "Kika, Esmee, Ewa, Ingrid, Frido–they are leaving and we aren't going to see them for like, two weeks!"

"I wish I wasn't going to see you–" y/n looked straight to Alexia, Jana and Vicky, showing exactly who she meant by that. "--for the last two weeks."

"Ay, malhumorada!" [grumpy] Pina said teasingly. "I think I know what you need and that is se–"

Patri shut Pina up with her hand, giving her a warning glare. 

"Creo que no quieres hacerla enojar más ahora, Pina" [I don't think you want to make her more mad now, Pina.]

"Por qué no? Me encanta cuando se enoja." [Why not? I like when she gets mad]

Pina dodged when Y/n threw a shin at her. 

Everybody began to change into their clothes and engage in their own conversation.

Y/n reached for the door to leave, but then she suddenly felt someone close behind her. She stopped, tensing, then slowly turned around.

Kika.

Her cheeks still burned red, eyes cast down to the floor.

They hadn't spoken since the restaurant, and Y/n kept telling herself she would say something. But every time she saw Kika, she just turned around and walked the other way.

Right now, running wasn't an option for either of them.

"Look, I'm sorry about what I said," Y/n blurted out quickly, the words spilling out faster than she could think them through. 

"I didn't know you were in the changing room, and Alexia was annoying me, and when I get like that, I just start rambling and can't stop…and..."

Kika held up Y/n's shirt. Oh yeah. She had taken that off and left it on the bench while she was running away from Alexia.

Y/N looked down–yep. She was still standing there in just her sports bra. She wasn’t usually shy, but now it felt weirdly intimate, too exposed.

"It's cold," Kika murmured. "You should put it on."

For a moment, the noise of the locker room, the rest of the team, everything just faded away. 

Y/n felt something shift inside her. It was like it was just her and Kika there.

She missed Kika. She wanted her friend back.

..

Y/n hated these stupid team bonding games, and she knew exactly why. 

Alexia was the one responsible for deciding who did what in charades, and Alexia had a talent for making everything as awkward as possible.

First up were Vicky and Ona. Their word was something simple: car. They breezed through it without breaking a sweat. The team cheered as they guessed it on the first try.

Then came Sydney and Esmee, paired together. Their word was "football player." Easy, nothing to stress about. They literally just had to pretend to kick a ball around, and everyone laughed along, guessing right away.

But when it was Y/n and Kika's turn, because, of course, Alexia had paired them. The word Alexia handed over was written in bold letters on the paper: Girlfriends.

Y/n's eyes flickered nervously as she clutched the paper to her chest, shielding it from Kika's view. She looked at Alexia angrily, ignoring everyone around her.

Without thinking, she thrust the paper back towards Alexia.

"No," she said firmly.

Alexia's brow furrowed. "You can't refuse to play charades. It's the rule." She put the paper back into Y/n's hand.

"Fuck the rules," Y/n shot back, rolling her eyes hard. 

Honestly, she had been doing a lot of eye-rolling that day. Maybe she was going to get a headache from all of that.

"Language," Alexia warned, frowning. She hated curse words. That's why Y/n used them so much.

"Look," Alexia continued, voice turning serious but still calm, "you either do the charades, or you don't play."

Y/n smiled brightly, like she had just found the solution to global warming.

"Perfect. Then I'm not playing."

"No!" everyone in the team said at the same time, even those who clearly weren't enjoying themselves, like Graham. Pina and Patri exchanged looks of disappointment, while others shook their heads in frustration.

Alexia sighed heavily, shooting Y/n a look of exasperation. "Can you please stop being so annoying and do one fucking charade? It's just a game."

"Change it," Y/n said, staring at Alexia. "Pick something else, anything else."

Then Salma, as a very good friend, interjected. "That's not fair," she said, arms crossed. "We didn't get to pick. We had to do whatever Alexia wrote for us."

Y/n rolled her eyes. "Salma, you had to do a dog. You just barked, and they got it right."

"Still! It's not fair. We have rules for bonding nights."

"You don't get to pick and choose just because you live with Alexia!" Ona said. "This is… special treatment, it's against the law!"

"What law?" Y/n turned to Ona. "This is a charade game–for fun!"

"You don't look like you're having fun," Vicky mumbled.

Y/n held the bridge of her nose. "That's because I'm not!"

It wasn't possible that she was the only one seeing how ridiculous it all was–not just the charades, but the whole social experiment they were doing with her and Kika!

"What's even on the paper? It can't be that bad," Kika asked again. "Look. If it's like a chicken or something, I can do it. You don't need to."

Her tone was gentle, but even Y/n could see she was getting impatient.

The poor girl had been standing in the middle of Jana's living room for twenty minutes while Y/n argued with Alexia about doing a charade that Kika didn't even know about.

Y/n ignored Kika, turning her attention to the evil master behind it all. 

"Alexia, if you don't change it, I'll just head home."

"Head home?" she heard Kika whine behind her, as if she were a kid. "But I wanna play charades! If you go, I won't have a pair!"

Y/n was seconds from losing it.

"Kika, not now," Y/n said, looking at Kika 

"Just play the game," Aitana said, waving her hands. "Sí?"

"Just fucking do it," Vicky said as if she was bored out of her mind just waiting.

"Have you always been this fun?" Jana asked ironically.

"It's the last time we're going to see each other for a few weeks!" Even Ingrid chimed in. "Try, nena."

In seconds, the whole team erupted in a mess of words, telling Y/n that she should do whatever was written on the paper. 

That she was annoying, that she wasn't fun, that she was ruining game night.

And then it all became too much.

She turned around, feeling her heart beat faster, but not for the reason she wanted–but from frustration, from anger.

For weeks, the team had treated her and Kika as if they were small avatars in a Sims game. Pushing and pulling them together. Putting them in awkward situations.

She had had enough of it.

If they wanted a reaction, they were going to get it.

She locked eyes with Kika, walking toward her with forced determination.

She held onto Kika's waist and pulled her close. The last thing Y/n saw before she closed her eyes was Kika's surprised ones.

In a second, the room that was so chaotic became silent. You could hear the sound of Jana's faucet leaking drops of water.

Y/n could feel Kika's heart beating against her own as she deepened the kiss, her hands pressing against Kika's skin. 

It felt good. It was a very good kiss. 

Somehow it felt familiar, like it wasn't the first time they were kissing.

Kissing.

She was kissing Kika. In front of everyone. 

Merda. 

It wasn't even a spontaneous kiss or a romantic one. It felt good–fuck it felt amazing–it made Y/n warm inside, but it was all performative.

It absolutely wasn't in the way Y/n wanted it to be. She didn't even ask if Kika was okay with it. Hadn't looked her in the eyes before going in, she just walked to her and did it.

Fuck it.

She broke the kiss, breathless. And she stared at Kika's brown eyes, her hands still on Kika's waist. Y/n didn't know what to do, didn't know how to move.

It was like they were bound by electrostatic energy, Y/n kept planted on her feet, Kika too.

There was silence, but then, Vicky decided to break it.

"Okay, let me guess…your charade was kiss?" She said awkwardly. Jana quickly smacked the back of her head.

Y/n looked at Kika one more time before taking a step back and turning to Alexia. 

She threw the paper clutched in her fist in  Alexia's direction, who, just like everybody else, looked absolutely stunned.

It was like they expected an elephant to just materialise in Jana's living room rather than having Y/n and Kika kiss. Honestly, Y/n felt the same.

She didn't imagine she would be kissing Kika when she woke. 

Y/n expected a bit of teasing from the team; laughs, maybe. Instead, there was just silence. Complete and awkward silence. 

Everybody was looking at the scene, some with their mouth agape, others with a hand in front of their mouth, in shock. Everybody was frozen too, as if they didn't want to move, or else the room would turn into a complete turmoil.

They knew this wasn't supposed to happen. They knew they pushed it too far.

Kika stood in the middle of the room, cheeks pink, lips parted slightly, watching Y/n. She didn't seem angry, nervous, or embarrassed, just very much surprised.

Y/n could help but notice how her own gloss was on Kika's lips. 

She didn't like that, she wanted to wipe it away from her face. But she also wanted to put it back there.

The thought felt like a a slap, and suddenly, the realisation hit her. Her chest felt tight, like she couldn't breathe.

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. This wasn't how she had imagined kissing Kika for the first time…not in front of everyone, not out of anger, not as some weird performance to prove a point to Alexia or to the team.

Kika deserved better than that. They deserved better than that, but Y/n didn't even know if there was a they to begin with.

Y/N cleared her throat.

"Here's your charade," she said slowly to Alexia, but her voice cracked, even though she tried very hard to be firm.

It was all her fault. Alexia had decided to care, and she didn't know the difference between doing that and intruding. 

Did she think Y/n was so incapable of dealing with her own relationships? But even as the anger rose again, Y/n felt something else underneath, because now she had ruined whatever chance she might have had with Kika by turning their first kiss into a show.

Y/n looked down as she walked to the door, her hands shaking. 

She could still taste Kika's lip balm, something sweet, maybe strawberry, and it made her stomach twist with guilt… and maybe longing? Y/n wondered if Kika felt the same about Y/n's gloss. Well, she didn't want to know the answer to that now.

But then Y/n  remembered that Alexia wasn't the only one to blame in this situation, that every single one of her teammates was involved in this in some sort of way. They had all watched her struggle, watched her and Kika dance around each other for weeks, and instead of giving them space (like any good person would do), they had turned it into a game.

She stopped on her track and turned her head, eyes pointing at all of the girls, except Kika. She couldn't look at Kika again, not yet…maybe not ever.

"Stop hiding the fucking chairs from the restaurant, it's ridiculous."

Then, she held the doorknob and was out in the hallway outside of Jana's apartment. She knew that her last sentence was rather nonsensical now, but she didn't care.

Y/n heard Kika call her name, she sounded soft and confused...maybe a little hurt, too, but she didn't turn around. She pressed her back against the closed door for a moment, just to breathe, just to ground herself.

She squeezed her eyes shut. What the hell had she done?

Y/n had nothing to say now, not to herself or to others. 

At least she couldn't form any thoughts in her head that didn't involve the way Kika's waist felt on her hands, how her palm still burned from touching her, or the little sound she had made when Y/n had deepened the kiss.

Y/n opened her eyes, taking one last breath before going to the elevator. She had a suitcase to pack and a flight to catch.

..

The next day, Y/n was getting her suitcase ready. She and Alexia were leaving for Ciudad del Fútbol in a few hours, their flight was scheduled soon, just a few hours away.

The other times Y/n was called up to camp, all she felt was excitement, happiness to have a change of scenery, to meet longtime friends who played out of the country, excitement for playing against other teams. But now the whole preparation felt mechanical, stiff, as if it were just another chore, just another responsibility she had to fill.

Olga was on the floor next to her side, folding a pile of clothes Y/n had just taken off the wardrobe, not caring to check if they were appropriate for the weather. Olga was doing it for her, though; she was used to it: making the suitcase of a grumpy footballer. Some would say it was her speciality.

Alexia was also in Y/n's room, a bit far to the left, digging through Y/n's drawer to get her sports gear together into her sports bag. She was being helpful, at least.

"So..." Alexia started, carefully, trying hard to keep her tone casual. It didn't work.

"No," Y/n interrupted without even looking at Alexia.

"But–"

"Alexia, cállate ya." [Alexia, shut up.] Olga gave her a look that shut her up right away.

Olga already knew about everything. Y/n had told her the night before.

From the team trying to set her up, to Alexia giving her a "girlfriend" charade on purpose, and how it had led Y/n to kiss Kika.

"Idiota," Y/n had mumbled the last night as Olga followed her to her room, noticing how stressed the girl was. "Your wife is an idiota! And I'm even more of an idiot than her!"

"What did Alexia do now?" Olga had asked, holding the bridge of her nose.

It all spilt out of Y/n. Olga didn't have to press forward; Y/n talked about everything willingly. She rambled, words came tumbling out of her mouth fast and without much logic. 

She talked about how confusing it was to like someone. How hard the last month had been. How she missed Kika. How it hurt to see her and feel the awkward tension growing between them.

How the girls were acting weird around her, like she felt like she and Kika were just entertainment. How Alexia went from being completely emotionally reserved to a full-on matchmaker in the matter of a few weeks.

How this whole situation had grown out of control, and Y/n felt like it wasn't just hers anymore.

How messy it all was.

Olga just listened to her. She always did; she was a very good listener. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and hugged Y/n, grounding her, giving Y/n the comfort she needed so much.

"Es complicado ahora," [it's complicated now] she said softly. "But it won't always feel like that... It'll be better in the morning."

She pressed a kiss to the top of Y/n's head as the door cracked open.

"Nena... I'm sorry–"

Olga didn't let her finish.

"Go away, Alexia," she said. "Go take a shower."

Y/n didn't see Alexia's face; her head was buried in Olga's shoulder, but she could only picture the lost puppy face Alexia had on. For once, she felt grateful that someone was handling things for her, even if it was small. She was tired of having to deal with it all.

When Y/n was a kid, they had promised her that liking someone was like feeling the sun on your face on a winter's morning, but for Y/n, liking Kika was like carrying stones on her back. They were heavy, and always there.

..

a/n: heheh here's the kiss!! <3

Tag list: @footy-lover264 , @fortifyde, @naomigirmadefender , @neutraiise , @milkveed, @browercc , @ace-of-baked , @ikzzzya , @sky-the-trans-guy00 , @knight-16, @wosohk04, @evaissleepy13, @papimapileon , @unpoppablebubbles @whiskeredshrimp-blog

[origami-butterfly]

Reminder for pride month that queerness is not limited to whiteness and if you erase non white queers, when talking about the community, every queer person who isn't white gets to throw rocks at you and shoot you out of a cannon 💖

[evieolo]

Dear the Love of My Life // C. Sturniolo

Dear the love of my life, 

Chris scribbled onto parchment for the twentieth time. He stared daggers into the ink until the ‘o’s blurred into ‘u’s. He stared until he deemed his handwriting illegible and the title cringy. It was cringy. For you. You deserved cringy, you loved that shit. Love in letters, stolen kisses, unfunny jokes. 

Rip.

His hands yanked the paper apart because it wasn’t good enough. Nothing was good enough for you. Maybe nothing ever would be. 

Dear the love of my life, 

He scribbled onto the paper again. 

Pull the words from your chest, Chris. Just say how you feel. Tell her she’s everything you ever wanted.

Baby

He scribbled the pathetic word out. 

I love you. 

He inked a line through the words. 

Maybe it was a case of right person, wrong time? Maybe he should’ve spoken more gently. Maybe he should’ve been a better man—a different man. 

Maybe the letter was a form of self-sabotage because he’d seen you with another man and needed to hear rejection straight from your lips to know it was real. It didn’t feel real. Nothing felt real without you. 

So instead, he ripped that paper up. And instead, he snapped the pen in half. 

Ink splattered on the parchment, but maybe it was better that way. Maybe he shouldn’t have referred to the girl of his dreams as the love of his life, because she didn't want him. You didn’t want him. 

And he would want you forever. 

[telamonisms]

1x1x1x1 x reader..general fluff hcs.. I'm stavrign... reader can be a killr or a survivor any is fine.. there's not enough 1x content

✦I have to agree with you anon, there isn't nearly enough content of 1x, for this, reader is a Survivor.

✦GENERAL FLUFF HEADCANONS WITH 1X1X1X1✦

✦You were convinced that something had to be wrong with you to watch her slaughter all your team mates and still feel so curiously drawn to her that you didn't even try to run. 1x herself agrees.

✦But it was exactly this which had her feel curious about you in turn. He'd at first written it off as you being so terrified you'd ended up paralyzed by the fear. When you kept doing it though, he began to doubt.

✦"You. Why do you not run in terror at the sight of me, weak one?" Had been the words which started it all. Their downfall if you may.

✦When you explained that you were curious about them, they didn't exactly know how to react or process it and just killed you. Oh well there's always next time!

✦Said next time you had a far better luck, able to strike up a somewhat calm conversation with him, asking questions that he'd in turn answer.

✦Until you asked why she seemed to be so against Shedletsky. The Mass Infection that ended you was, at least, mercifully quick.

✦Time to retry! You apologized in case you'd hit a sore spot and she went off. You hadn't expected a trauma dump from the 1x1x1x1 but you kept quiet and listened, thinking through it all about how despite the anger in their words and voice, you could feel how much they needed to let it all out.

✦By the time she was done, the round came to an end, needless to say, now you were pissed with Shedletsky and the next time you encountered 1x in a round you spent your time shit talking him.

✦Something bloomed within 1x's chest that day and from then on he seemed to be far more merciful to you, either avoiding you until you were the last one standing, or straight up fully sparing your life and instead talking more with you.

✦While at it, you also noticed how he seemed to look more towards getting to have conversations with you.

✦One day you asked her why. Why was it that she spared you so, that she seemed to enjoy your talks, that she, when not sparing you, made sure that your death was quick and painless. You told her that it almost seemed like she didn't hate you.

✦"I don't." Came out her answer and you were confused, but isn't she the Creation of Hatred? Shedletsky's hate personified?

✦He explained that "personified" is the keyword, hate is not all he feels, not all he is. Much like with Chance's dog motifs, I could go on a deep dive about how 1x doesn't just feel hate, but for the sake of the headcanons staying on topic, I'll only do so on a separate post if anyone wishes me to.

✦Ever since then, you two have grown closer and closer. You hesitate to put a name to what you two have, but you do kmow that you enjoy eachother's company and care for and cherish one another.

✦Maybe, just maybe, if you all manage to make it out of this realm, there wouldn't be any reason to not keep seeing eachother, spending time with eachother, no longer limited by an artificial timer marking the end of a round, perhaps you two would spend hours or even days in eachother's company.

✦I thank you for this lovely request and I do hope it is a good read. 1x1x1x1 alongside Chance are two of the characters I feel the strongest about. Especially with how much mischaracterization they both get put through and how much of their nuance people take away from.

[milk-is-stable]

The Shoot From the Hip Hunger Games: Day/Night 5

Masterpost (<-START HERE! the posts are best read in order)

Content Warning: descriptions of violence, blood/injury, major character death

The sun rises on the fifth day of the Hunger Games, and the first pale tendrils of dawn have barely appeared in the sky as the camera zooms in on Julian, Inga, and Michael's campsite. Johnny's face is creased in a frown and he tosses and turns in his sleep, muttering to himself. Suddenly he cries out and his eyes fly open. He reaches out with his right hand, but stops when it finds only dirt and leaves.

"Wha–" Michael sits up, his face stretching with a long yawn. "What's happening?"

"Sorry," Johnny says, sitting up and wrapping his arms around himself. "I was just dreaming."

"Really?" Inga asks blearily, cracking one eyelid open. "Was it a future dream?"

"I do have normal dreams sometimes, you know," Johnny says.

"What'd you dream about?" asks Michael. "Whatever it was, it sounded bad."

"I...it was the kid from District 10," Johnny finally admits. "He was raiding our camp, and he was about to shoot Inga when I woke up."

"Sounds like our next target then," Inga says with a yawn. "But I need at least another hour of sleep before I can think of any plans."

"That's fine," Michael says. "I think I'll get up and check some of the rabbit traps I set around the woods. Johnny, you good?"

"I'm fine. I'll go back to sleep," Johnny says.

Michael nods, picks up one of their tree branch spears, and inches his way back across the bridge over their trench. The camera lingers on Johnny, who watches Michael as he disappears into the trees...then when the other boy is gone, his gaze drifts and lands on Inga's sleeping form.

The camera zooms in closer to her, then cuts to a similar extreme close-up of Alexa, who's asleep with her head leaning on Benjamin's shoulder. Peter is awake, watching the sunrise through the trees, so he spots the sponsor parachute as soon as it descends into view. He reaches and shakes the other two awake, pointing as the mystery gift drops to the forest floor below them. The three of them clamber down the tree, and Peter opens the package to reveal a light compound bow and a quiver of wickedly sharp arrows.

"Well, at least now we have something to use against that mutt," Benjamin says. "Do you know how to fire that?"

Peter shrugs.

"It can't be that hard, can it? Just pull back the string, point, and let go?"

"It's better than nothing, I suppose," Benjamin says.

Alexa opens her mouth, but before she can speak, her stomach growls audibly and she winces.

"It would probably be good to try and get some food today," Benjamin says. "We didn't eat much yesterday."

Peter looks between the two of them for a moment, then nods.

"I know a place we can go to get enough food for all three of us," he says, strapping the quiver to his back. "Follow me."

He heads off into the woods, and after a moment, Benjamin and Alexa follow him.

The camera cuts to show Chip walking on his own, eating a handful of berries as he goes. A rustling noise in the woods catches his attention and he stops, looking around cautiously as his hand drifts towards the knife sheathed on his belt.

Suddenly, there's a snarling sound, followed by the high pitched keen of a small animal dying. Chip's face goes pale, and he turns and hurries away in the other direction, glancing behind him every so often to make sure there's nothing following him.

The camera cuts to a close up shot of Michael, who is walking back towards his campsite and carrying two dead rabbits by their hind legs. The shot zooms out and swings around to the back of his head, so that the viewer sees what he sees at the same moment he does: Johnny standing at the campsite, one of the sharpened branches held in both hands. He's looking down at something on the ground, then he squeezes his eyes shut and lifts the branch up over his head and drives the point straight down.

The camera cuts to Inga's face as her eyes fly open in shock, a gasp of pain on her lips. Johnny staggers away from her, and she stares at him in disbelief.

"Y-you..." she coughs, and her breath comes in a strangled wheeze. "But...the future..."

"Can be changed, "Johnny says quietly.

He turns and begins gathering up as much of the supplies from their camp as he can carry, pointedly not looking at Inga as the last of the life bleeds out of her. Finally, the cannon fires, and Johnny carefully makes his way over the makeshift bridge and takes off into the forest...passing the bush that Michael is hidden behind by mere feet.

The camera cuts back to Alexa, Peter, and Benjamin, who have reached the part of the arena where the forest gives way to the rocky terrain surrounding the ravine.

"We've got to find the stream, then follow it down to a cave," Peter is explaining. "Hopefully whatever the gamemakers did to the water hasn't affected the food that's growing there."

"Are you okay, Alexa?" Benjamin asks suddenly. "You've been awfully quiet today, and I know I haven't known you super long, but that doesn't seem like you."

"Ah...I suppose that's true," Alexa says, looking down and picking at her fingernails. "I do usually like to talk, to tell jokes...I guess I was just thinking."

"What about?" Peter asks, and Alexa shrugs.

"Back before the reaping...I had this little apartment in the city, just me and Janusz. It was small, and drafty, and we only had one thin blanket to sleep on and one little candle to burn and some nights all we had for dinner was a thin cabbage soup that the lady downstairs would share with us."

"That sounds awful, I'm sorry," Benjamin says, but Alexa shakes her head.

"No...no, living in that little apartment was the happiest that I have ever been. It was the first time that nobody wanted me to be something that I was not. I was just thinking...I miss that."

"I miss home too," Peter says. "I miss my room and my toys and the back garden. I even miss my dumb old PS5." He sighs, and kicks a rock ahead of them as they walk. "Mostly though, I miss my parents."

"Me too," Benjamin adds. "And Clarissa, and all the other kids my mum and dad took in after the accident.

"Maybe you'll see them again," Alexa says, and Benjamin huffs.

"But the only way for me to do that is if both of you die," he says. "And the only way that Peter gets to see his family again is if we both die."

Peter looks away at that, a troubled expression on his face.

"The fucked up thing about this game," Benjamin continues, "is that even if you refuse to play, you still lose."

Alexa shakes her head.

"No...no, I don't believe that's true. I told you that I do not care about winning, but that's not quite it. I don't care about winning the Hunger Games...I have to win the fight I am having with the people who want us to do bad things. And at least for now, I am still winning that fight."

Peter opens his mouth to speak, then he freezes, staring off into the distance.

"What?" Benjamin asks, and Peter points wordlessly.

The mutt has returned, and is slowly stalking towards them from the treeline.

"Not again," Benjamin groans.

"Nowhere to run this time," Alexa says, looking around frantically. "Could it follow us if we climbed up those rocks there?" she asks, pointing at a small formation of boulders near the edge of the ravine

"Maybe?" Peter says, though he doesn't sound very sure. "You may as well try, I'll see if I can shoot it down before it gets here."

Alexa and Benjamin hurry forward, and Alexa begins climbing up the side of the rocks as Peter fiddles with the bow and arrow for a moment. He manages to knock an arrow on the string, but it's clear that he is unsure of what he's doing. He pulls the string back as far as he can, aiming his shot towards the mutt as it approaches, but the arrow flies wide and instead of hitting the creature, it strikes Benjamin in the back of the calf just as he begins to climb.

"Aaagh!" Benjamin screams in pain, stumbling forward. "Fuck!"

"Benjamin!" Alexa screams as Benjamin slides back to the ground.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," Peter exclaims, flinching violently. "Oh my god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–"

"Shoot it!" Benjamin shouts.

The mutt's attention is trained entirely on Benjamin now, its nostrils flaring wide as it prowls closer.

"Blood..." Peter says, his eyes widening. "It's drawn to the scent of blood!"

Benjamin looks down at his bleeding leg, then back to the beast as it draws nearer, and he takes a deep breath. Turning, he limps his way towards the edge of the ravine.

"Benjamin?" Alexa asks, and he looks up at her, his eyes wide with fear. "Benjamin, what are you doing?"

"You were right," he says, and he forces himself to smile. "What you said about winning. So I'm going to win, in the only way they'll let me."

He turns to face the mutt as it begins to run at him, and he takes a step back so that he's standing right on the cliff's edge. He looks up towards the sky, his breath coming in quick, shaky bursts.

"Mum...Dad...if you're watching...I'm sorry."

He closes his eyes, and as the mutt leaps forward to tackle him, he leans back. The creature slams into his body, then the two of them go flying down the ravine together. Benjamin's scream is drowned out by the monster's panicked howl, and once again, a cannon fires as a body lands at the bottom of the ravine.

Peter rushes to the edge and peers over, then looks back at Alexa.

"The mutt isn't moving," he says quietly. "I don't think it made it either."

Alexa doesn't speak; her face is white as a sheet and her hands are trembling at her sides.

"Listen, I'm so sorry," Peter says, taking a step towards her. "About everything. I'm sorry about Benjamin, and about your other friend, about scaring you on that first night when all I wanted was to ask if you would team up with me..." he trails off as Alexa slides down the boulder onto the ground, wincing as she lands on her weaker ankle.

She wordlessly walks right past him, heading back towards the forest. When she reaches the treeline, she pauses and looks back.

"It wasn't your fault, you know," she says quietly. "If you do win...try to remember that."

She turns and disappears into the trees, and the camera fades out on the shot of Peter standing alone at the edge of the ravine.

The screen fades in on a shot of Johnny trudging through the forest. He moves slowly due to his wound, and he is so focused on walking steadily on the ground in front of him that he almost doesn't notice Chip watching him from a berry patch until he's right on top of him.

"Shhhhh!" Chip hisses when Johnny flinches, and he puts a finger to his lips. "Listen, I'm going to be straight with you," he says in a low voice. "I think there's something in the woods. Some kind of wild animal, maybe a mutt. I've been hearing traces of it all day."

"Really?" Johnny asks, and Chip nods.

"You heard the cannons, we're on the final five now. I know alliances are probably all moot at this point. But I'd rather die on my feet fighting than be torn apart by whatever...thing is out there stalking us. I say we agree not to kill each other for one night, so that we can watch each other's backs and try and both get some sleep. Agreed?"

Johnny looks at Chip for a long moment, then slowly he nods and holds out a hand. Chip takes it, and they shake.

"Agreed."

The camera cuts to Michael, who has gathered as much food as he can from the forest surrounding his ransacked campsite. With his flint taken by Johnny, the rabbits he killed that morning are useless to him, and he's back on a diet of foraged berries and roots.

"Four more to go," he mutters to himself as he walks back towards his camp. "You just have to make it through four more. You can do that, can't you?"

He lets out a groan, and rubs a hand over his face before continuing through the woods.

For a time, the woods are silent, then a soft, eerie sound drifts towards him through the trees, and he freezes.

It's a small voice, singing softly in a different language than what's been spoken in the arena thus far.

"Bayu-bayushki-bayu, Ne lozhisya na krayu! Pridet seren'kiy volchok,I ukhvatit za bochok."

Michael quickens his pace, and finds Alexa walking a few yards ahead of him, in the same general direction as his campsite. Her arms are wrapped around herself and she's hunched over slightly as she walks, and all the while she sings.

"On ukhvatit za bochok, I potashchit vo lesok. I potashchit vo lesok Pod rakitovyy kustok."

She gets closer and closer to the campsite as she sings, and Michael is listening so intently that he almost doesn't realize where she's walking.

"Wait!" he calls out, and Alexa spins around, her song cutting off in a gasp of surprise. "Don't move," Michael says, holding out a hand in warning.

"What do you want?" she demands, her voice quivering, and Michael takes a deep breath.

"Nothing," he says carefully. "I don't want to hurt you."

Alexa laughs, and the sound is bitter and hollow.

"I don't think it matters what you want anymore, does it? It doesn't matter what either of us want."

"Look, just listen to me," Michael says, and he takes a step towards her.

She takes a step back on instinct, then her eyes widen in shock as the ground beneath her feet vanishes. She falls backwards, her arms flying out in a vain attempt to catch herself, and one of the dozens of branches that fill the pit surrounding the campsite pierces her through the back and sticks out through her chest. She makes a pained, choking noise, and Michael rushes forward.

"I'm sorry!" he cries out, raising his hands to his mouth in shock.

"I...I did it," Alexa says, her voice impossibly small. "Did you see?"

"Did I see what?" Michael asks, but she doesn't even look at him; her gaze is fixed upwards, and the reflection of the stars shines bright in her eyes

"Did you see, Janusz?" she asks. "I didn't let them use me...I won after all." She smiles, and a tear rolls down her cheek. "I'm coming after you, Janusz. Now we can finally be free..."

She lets out a shaky breath, and does not breathe in again. 

— — — 

The day ends and the Capitol anthem plays. The sky lights up with the fifth nightly ceremony honoring the fallen. The face of each tribute that died, in District order, appears in the sky. Your TV shows a brief clip of how each death occurred, though the projection in the arena doesn’t show this to the tributes.

You see Alexa fall and a spike pierce her chest, Benjamin go over the cliff with the mutt, and Johnny drive his spear into Inga's stomach.

The anthem ends, and the projection in the arena goes dim.

This concludes our broadcast for the day! Please tune in again tomorrow to see what will become of YOUR favorite tribute!

Game Summary

Deaths:

Inga was killed by Johnny

Benjamin was killed by an animal

Alexa was killed by Michael

Kill Counts:

Pinocchio: 2 (Maria, Jimmy)

Inga: 2 (Jim L, Scottish Robin)

Caesar: 2 (Juliet, Pinocchio)

Chip: 3 (Clarissa, Marty, Hugh)

Jasper: 1 (Pinocchio)

Robin: 1 (Janae)

Peter: 2 (Priscilla, Caesar)

Michael: 2 (Scottish Robin, Alexa)

Johnny: 1 (Inga)

Game Meta

MY DISAPPOINTMENT IS IMMEASURABLE AND MY DAY IS RUINED

Look. I was low(read, high)key rooting for Alexa. The whole seed, she was my favorite, the one I wanted most to win. There were other tributes I would have loved to see take it and who I was sad to see die, but I was rooting for Alexa the whole time and I almost threw the seed out when she died. But that felt like cheating, and I'm not a cheater /silly.

Shout out to everyone being like "Inga is gonna betray them isn't she" because YEAH she probably would have, had Johnny not beaten her to it. Which he only DID because he was certain that she would. That whole storyline was born of getting the incredible back to back punch of "Johnny begs Inga to kill him and she doesn't" and "Johnny stabs Inga with a tree branch" and asking the question "How would their relationship have to progress for that to make any kind of sense?" I think I like what I ended up with!

Housekeeping: Chip getting the picture as a sponsorship I put yesterday, to make it so that each tribute group got something after the interviews, and Peter's nightmares will be mentioned in tomorrow's post since I couldn't really figure out how to pace a mention of that with the last death scene.

Final four tributes now....which means why not, have another poll.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 100: Fitzwilliam's Smile

Previous > Masterlist

tw: mind control, aftermath of abuse

December 1905

Fitzwilliam pulled himself out of sleep slowly. He was in a very soft bed, warm underneath a mountain of blankets. He felt comfortable and well-rested and the ever-present complaint of his stomach was gone, which all meant that this must be a dream, one of those dreams he wasn't allowed to have.

That didn't mean he was eager to leave the dream, though. Out there, there was only cold and pain and punishment. In here, there was a soft glow of warmth, a shadow almost like happiness, even if it was all imaginary. He ached with want.

His desires couldn't stand up to his fear and conditioning, though, dragging him back to wakefulness, blaring an alarm that he must already be late. He didn't even know how his body always knew what time it was -- it was something the Maestro had drilled into him over many excruciating lessons. He knew he was late, and he'd had forbidden thoughts, and that meant…

A quiet noise from the bed brought him back to his senses. There was someone else in the bed with him -- Mr. Alexander, his master now.

The memories came flooding back to him: hot soup and fresh bread, salve for his wounds, a gentle voice and tender treatment. His master was kind, almost impossibly so, straight out of one of his illicit daydreams of being cared for.

But why? He was a loathsome creature -- his former master had been very insistent on that point. He was no one and nothing, and there was no reason for anyone to lavish care and affection on him. He should consider himself fortunate to receive food, water, and a roof over his head.

So, why…?

His master had allowed Fitzwilliam into his bed, and he was sleeping there so peacefully. He had told Fitzwilliam that his kind treatment wasn't a test or a setup for a punishment, and Fitzwilliam longed to believe him. Perhaps, if his master was still asleep, it would be acceptable for him to sleep in just a little longer?

No, he knew he shouldn't take advantage of this goodwill. He had slept in late, and then lagged in bed thinking about his situation, and that could strain his new master's patience. The main problem now was that he wasn't sure what he was meant to be doing upon waking. The Maestro had prescribed him tasks to do each day -- tasks that changed constantly, with rules that he didn't fully understand, and he'd earn a beating more often than not -- but still, there were tasks for him to do. Mr. Alexander hadn't told him to do anything at all.

But as he tried to rise from the bed, his master stirred, and strong arms grasped Fitzwilliam, tightening protectively. There was no chance he'd be leaving. A cold cheek nuzzled against the side of Fitzwilliam's face and down to his neck. "Fitz," his master mumbled, half asleep. "Stay."

His master always called him by a familiar nickname, and it sounded so good in his deep voice, a much better person to be than the Fitzwilliam whose name was announced in clipped yet musical tones. And he could feel the desire practically radiating from his master as he buried his face in Fitzwilliam's neck.

Fitzwilliam wanted to please him so, so badly, in a much different sort of way than he'd wanted to please the Maestro -- not to avoid punishment, and not only to receive rewards, but because some deeper part of him wanted to be pleasing. To be wanted, as if it would earn him better treatment. The cold breaths against Fitzwilliam's neck reminded him of one way he could surely be pleasing to his master.

"Do you want to drink, sir?"

"Mmm, yes…" his voice rumbled. "It's been so long…"

Fitzwilliam braced himself for the pain of the bite, hoping that his new master would be more gentle than the old in this way as well, but after a few moments, he realized it wasn't coming. His master was lying curled up against Fitzwilliam, eyes closed shut, asleep all this time and dreaming. Frustrated, Fitzwilliam lay there, torn between the mesmerism insisting that he needed to wake and train and serve, and the trap of his master's arms lulling him back down into blissful sleep.

"Fitz?" His master's eyes opened. "Are you all right?"

He'd done it now, woken his master early. "Yes, sir, I'm all right."

"You don't seem all right."

"I didn't mean to wake you, sir," Fitzwilliam said. "It's past the time when my former master would want me to wake and prepare myself for training, and I can't help but wonder what you'd like me to be doing."

Mr. Alexander's arms pulled Fitzwilliam against his chest. "Nothing, there's nothing you need to be doing," he said. "I want you to stay here and warm my bed, and I want you to sleep."

"Yes, sir," he said, feeling far too on edge to go back to sleep regardless of what his master wanted.

"Go back to sleep," sang the mesmerizing voice in his ear, and the lullaby made his eyelids droop irresistibly. "Nothing but the sweetest of dreams. Sleep, Fitz."

Fitzwilliam wanted to reply, but he couldn't even manage to mumble a "yes, sir," as he sank down into the warm and comfortable embrace of sleep. His master's song had no words, yet it made him think of warm summer days and nights by a fire, of grand feasts and soothing baths, of all the comforts he secretly yearned for. If sleep could always be like this, Fitzwilliam would just as soon remain asleep and never again haunt the waking world.

The next time he awoke, his master's hand was running through his hair. "Did I wake you?"

"I don't mind, sir," he said. It was a wonder that the waking world could be almost comfortable as his dream. Maybe he hadn't woken after all.

"Would you like breakfast?"

His first instinct was to say no. There was always such a limited amount of food in his former master's manor, shared among a small army of ghostlike thralls. Fitz had been so sated the night before that he could easily miss breakfast. But Mr. Alexander seemed to delight in bringing Fitzwilliam food and watching him eat, so maybe it would be fine to have breakfast, at least this time. "Yes, sir, if there's food to spare."

"Of course there is. And if we run low, I'll procure more," said Mr. Alexander, sitting up and stretching. "All the food here is for you. The bread from last night should still be acceptable, and there's eggs, jam, honey, cheese… you'd enjoy an omelette, wouldn't you?"

Fitzwilliam's stomach growled at the thought. Truthfully, he didn't know if he would enjoy an omelette, as he had no memories of ever eating one. "I'll eat whatever's convenient, sir."

Mr. Alexander cupped Fitzwilliam's face in his hand tenderly. "There won't be any consequences to eating what you want. Nothing here is a test or a trap. Do you understand?"

Unfortunately, this was one of the situations where the honest answer was the one more likely to get him in trouble, but one of the first lessons he'd learned was to never lie to vampires. "No, sir," he said, flinching instinctively. Why would his master provide so much for him without a reason? He'd said the night before that he wasn't testing Fitzwilliam, but that could easily be part of the test.

Mr. Alexander pulled him closer, gathering Fitzwilliam against his chest, and even though the vampire held little warmth, it was still comforting, tender. "I was in your shoes once," he said. "It took me a long time to accept that I deserved anything, could have anything for my own. I still don't always believe it."

"You were in my shoes, sir?"

"I am nothing like my sire, your former master," said Mr. Alexander fiercely. "I will not treat you as he did. I will provide for you anything you want, as long as you stay with me, and I will not harm or punish you."

"Thank you, sir," said Fitzwilliam, wanting to sound grateful, even though it was so hard to believe his new master. He was a vampire, and Fitzwilliam was a loathsome thing, and Mr. Alexander was far too good to be true.

"It's hard to believe, I know. I wouldn't have believed it either, when I was in your place. I'll just have to care for you until you can believe." Mr. Alexander kissed Fitzwilliam's forehead tenderly. "Now, if you're willing to rise from bed, we can see about that breakfast."

Fitzwilliam sat up and pulled back the covers, remembering that he was still only in a few undergarments, thanks to his master's thorough inspection of his injuries. More of Fitzwilliam was covered in bandages than in clothes. Mr. Alexander rummaged through an over-packed dresser, producing a deep red dressing gown that he handed to Fitzwilliam.

For someone who had spent the last months wearing nothing but scratchy, uncomfortable uniforms, the soft dressing gown felt heavenly next to Fitzwilliam's skin. The moment he had donned it, Mr. Alexander scooped him up and carried him out of the room, preventing Fitzwilliam from making the bed as he'd been trained -- it was his master's bed, anyway, and perhaps there were different rules for that.

Fitzwilliam was whisked to the kitchen, where Mr. Alexander wasted no time pulling out bountiful ingredients and cutting a pat of butter to sizzle in the pan, making the room smell delicious. "I'm not much for cooking, so if you want fancier fare, you may have to learn to make it yourself," said Mr. Alexander. "But I can manage eggs, at least."

The voice in Fitzwilliam's head nagging him about food rationing and training and allowing a vampire to serve him was soon quieted by a plateful of food, a golden omelette with cheese and pieces of bacon served alongside buttered toast. Mr. Alexander made more servings as Fitzwilliam uncontrollably gobbled it down. He was eating like a king. Mr. Alexander's kind words couldn't stop him from being nervous about the consequences of accepting this hospitality, but his half-starved body compelled him to devour everything put before him.

"I'll draw some warm water for a bath, if you'd like to wash," said Mr. Alexander, gazing at Fitzwilliam eating with a soft smile on his face.

"You don't need to draw water for my bath, sir," said Fitzwilliam, alarmed. "I haven't forgotten my place. I should be serving you, sir."

"You are serving me, by allowing me to do this for you."

Fitzwilliam wasn't sure how to respond to that, and he certainly didn't want to argue with his overly kind master, so all he could do was nod meekly and accept the vampire's generosity. Soon, he was soaking up to his ears in a hot bath filled with floral-scented soap, the knots in his muscles unwinding.

He certainly hadn't expected privacy, but he was still surprised by Mr. Alexander's intimacy, the way he insisted on scrubbing Fitzwilliam until he practically gleamed. Was there truly no price to pay for this? He certainly didn't deserve such care.

"You don't remember what you are to me," Mr. Alexander murmured as he ran a cloth down Fitz's back.

It seemed like it must be a trick question. "I'm your thrall, sir, aren't I?"

His master's laugh was pained. "Yes, and far more than that. But I'm sure you'll remember in time."

"Yes, sir," he said, racking his brain. What could his master be talking about? What else could he be, apart from a loyal thrall, a tireless servant, a source of blood? The way Mr. Alexander looked at him made him feel excited and uncomfortable all at once.

"You needn't worry about it so much," said Mr. Alexander. "You should try to relax, and take your joy when you can. These pleasant memories may need to sustain us both."

Ominous, yet sound advice. Fitzwilliam could only wish he were capable of simply enjoying this situation. But the memories of torture were too fresh, the fear of punishment too strong.

As if on cue, his master began to sing. It was a soft and quiet song, not nearly as forceful as the one he'd employed the night before, but it still wormed its way into Fitzwilliam's mind, soothing him, making his spirals of anxiety evaporate into nothing. As Fitzwilliam sank into a mesmerized daze, he allowed Mr. Alexander to lift him from the bathtub, wrapping him in warm clean towels. A simple dress with a bold floral pattern was pulled over his head, and Fitzwilliam was delighted to realize that it didn't scratch or chafe.

"We're going to pay a visit to Lily tonight," Mr. Alexander explained. "She can root some of my sire's foul ideas from your head. You'll feel much better once you've seen her, I'm sure."

"Thank you, sir," said Fitzwilliam, hoping that Miss Lily would be as kind and gentle as his master was.

Fitzwilliam was kitted out in a gorgeous wool coat and cheerful red scarf, topped with matching hat and mittens. He was given fine leather boots to slip over his thick stockings. He couldn't remember ever having worn clothes like this, since his former master never allowed him to leave the manor, and although the inside of the manor was usually too cold, he had no choice but to wear the same scratchy uniform each day. Once he was sufficiently bundled up, Mr. Alexander showed him out of the front door.

The city was sparkling in the bright moonlight, the gaslights illuminating fresh snowbanks. There were few people on the streets at this time of night, but there were still candles and lamps in many a window, and the occasional drunken chatter coming from bars and other late night haunts. Fitzwilliam hadn't had the opportunity to truly appreciate and observe the night when he'd been released from the Maestro's manor the night before. He found himself drinking in the crisp air, filthy with soot but still different from the dust of a vampire's manor, savoring the feeling of wind on his face. Walking the streets of the city late at night felt so familiar. It felt like freedom.

He wasn't exactly free, though, because Mr. Alexander was wrapping their arms together and pulling him close. Fitzwilliam didn't resist this treatment, both because he didn't know where he was going and because he wanted to please his master.

"Ah, there's that handsome smile," he said.

"Oh…" Fitzwilliam hadn't realized he was smiling, and didn't know what to say back. The easy compliment made him long for his master to keep showering him in praise, even if the compliments stung and burned as he tried to reject them. "I'm glad I can be pleasing, sir."

Mr. Alexander seemed disappointed by this, and Fitzwilliam knew he had said something wrong, even if he had no idea what he was meant to say instead.

Previous > Masterlist

Well, I've reached one hundred chapters of The Rare Bookseller! Thank you so much to everyone who has read this far, and especially to those who have reblogged, left me comments, sent me asks, or made fan things!

This is the longest I've ever stuck with a personal creative project and I definitely owe a lot of that to the wonderful reception I've gotten. Bookseller has been a labor of love containing many of my favorite ideas and tropes, and while I write it to my own tastes, it makes me very happy that it resonates with others.

It's not always easy for me to post a new chapter of Bookseller each week in a timely fashion. I work a stressful full-time job, and many times after work or on weekends, all I want to do is vegetate and mindlessly scroll and watch trash on Youtube. So it means a lot to me that I was able to accomplish this milestone anyway.

There won't be a two hundredth chapter, thankfully -- the story is outlined through the ending, and we're reaching the home stretch and the final arc. I hope to continue adding more side stories like the current choose-your-own-adventure, and also responding to the many asks that sit in my inbox waiting for me to write a snippet or two (it's currently up to ~130...)

Once Bookseller is complete I have quite a few more things set in the world that I'd like to tackle, including what will possibly be another book-length work set in the same world but primarily concerning the faefolk. I also have plenty of other germs of stories waiting to be told. I'm not sure if anything I write will be quite as special to me as Bookseller, but every time I think that about something I write, something else seems to come along. But until then, I'll have to keep my head full of vampires.

Thanks again for reading!

Next week, Fitzwilliam meets Miss Lily (again).

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@vampiresprite @irregular-book @whumpsoda @und3ad-mutt

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @light-me-on-pyre @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

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@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping @natthebatt @fire-bugg14

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Skeletons oldest child dislikes their new sibling. Like S/O and skeleton brought home their second baby child but their oldest child seems to dislike the new sibling. How would the skellies react to this?

Undertale Sans - He's not that worried. You want to hear a story? He was mad the day his dad came home with Papyrus because he felt things would change forever, and added to that, he was a loud baby and wouldn't stop crying. And things did change, indeed, but eventually, Sans noticed his brother was looking out for him and he felt like he had to be responsible for the two of them. He knows it doesn't look like things will ever be right, but he promises that you'll change your mind soon. He validates his child's feelings, but the baby is here now, and that's not going to change. He's here if you want to talk, though.

Undertale Papyrus - Papyrus understands. That's a big change in their life! He hates changes, too, but sometimes, changes happen even when you don't want them to happen. Papyrus calmly explains his child that it will change as they learn more about them. The baby is a stranger right now, but they're really going to be your sibling as they grow, and they need you by their side to be happy. Can you try this for him?

Underswap Sans - Man, that wasn't part of the plan. What do you even want him to do about it? He thought his elder was happy about it, but why are they not now? He's confused, and tired, and it seems he can't ever understand how children work. He goes straight to his S/O so they helped him to help them, because he is just lost about what to do.

Underswap Papyrus - Honey is very observant, and quickly reassures his child that it's not because they have a sibling now that he doesn't like them less than before. He understands that they're scared and that it seems he gives more attention to the baby than to them, but he reminds his child that if they need anything or misses him, they can just walk in the room and asks him. He'll make sure to spend some alone time with his older kid to be sure they don't feel abandoned. He's also nervous, as that feeling of abandonment never really left him as a kid and he's terrified his kid might turn on him or think he doesn't care anymore.

Underfell Sans - It's so damn familiar it hurts. Red was a jerk to Edge for a good part of his childhood, which explains why Edge was such a difficult teenager. Red was happy with the baby, but now he's full of insecurities again, and unsure if he somehow did something wrong and accidentally repeated the same mistakes. He really wants to do better, but he's not sure how. After beating himself up for like an entire week and studying all the ways to avoid this conversation, he goes to talk about it to his S/O and ask for help. You're quite shocked he's coming to see you willingly, you are speechless. He's just worried.

Underfell Papyrus - Like Red, he's super stressed. Unlike Red, he keeps everything to himself like the stubborn idiot he is and distances himself from his family by fear he's impacting them all negatively. Maybe he wasn't suited to be a father after all, and what if it was all a big mistake? What if you hate him now because it seems like he's not caring? He's so lost and worried, his masks breaks and you find him one night curled up in bed looking like he didn't sleep for two weeks. He kinda throws all of his insecurities at your face out of nowhere. Please... Help him. He never had a father, he's not sure what he's even supposed to do...

Horrortale Sans - He noticed, but he doesn't act differently. What his kid needs is to adapt to a new routine now that the baby is here and find their place in their family. Oak tries to help them the best he can by including them in everything they're doing and consulting them on small choices so they don't feel like all the attention is redirected on the baby. Oak wants his kid to know he loves them the same as their sibling and that it's ok if they're a bit scared at the moment. He is too, you know. Besides, if you need to talk, you can still come to him or Uncle Willow for advice. It doesn't change.

Horrortale Papyrus - Willow is already stressed as hell because he doesn't want to hurt the baby; he really doesn't need a second crisis to deal with. He's overwhelmed, he's scared to mess up with both his children, and he doesn't know what he's supposed to do to make his older child feel better. So... Uh... He goes to ask for help from Toriel. She had two kids, she knows better how to deal with this than he is, right? He's just so lost about what to do. He doesn't want to mess up, please. Toriel finds the right words to comfort him and assures him it's a normal step and that it will pass. He just needs to make his child comfortable and spend time with them to show them they have nothing to fear. He tries his best to make things better.

Swapfell Sans - Nox is struggling. He's the type of skeleton who needs to focus on one thing to do the thing right. Now that he has two children, he's kinda panicking because all the routine he built with his first child had been thrown by the window. He's not sure how to deal with his first one's jealousy, and despite trying to spend time with both of them equally, it seems it have no effect. He's confused and unsure what he's doing wrong, and it's stressing him out since he has in mind really well what happened with his brother. Part of him abandoning his brother is also the result of how overwhelmed he was at that time, so he's scared he might do the same mistake. He is too ashamed to ask help from his S/O so... He asks his therapist, because they seem to know everything about his life, so... Find a magical solution to this? He's upset when she tells him to listen to himself and trusts how different now is from the past. It feels like it doesn't help at all, but he can try, he guesses.

Swapfell Papyrus - Well that's ironic, uh? His brother felt the same about him when he was little, so... Rus is a little anxious. He doesn't want his bitterness to rub off on his child. He tries to act a little more positive so his child doesn't feel left out, while still being here for his S/O because taking care of a baby is far from easy. Purely out of spite, he sends his kid to ask what Uncle Nox feels about that, just so Nox gets the message and starts acting more positively, too, because he doesn't see why he should be the only one to struggle with this. If it's his problem, it's because it's his brother's problem first. Deal with it.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Grow up already. The baby is here, that's final, deal with it and get over it already. Wine is annoyed his first child is being difficult about this. He doesn't understand either. Since he's little, he's all over his little brother. He doesn't understand why his child is suddenly rejecting their sibling like that. They never lack anything, unlike him, and they don't have to live in the wild with the threat of being killed any second of your life, so why are you even complaining? S/O tries to explain to him that each child is different and that he's clearly projecting too much on his child, but Wine is stubborn and refuses to hear it. He just needs some time. The baby is taking a lot of his time right now, but once he finds a new routine, he'll actually start to find solutions for this.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He's big, overwhelmed and has no idea how to fix it. He thought his kid would just be happy to have a sibling because that's how Wine reacted his entire childhood? He never thought even once that something like this could happen. He tries to understand and be more present for his older child, but by doing that he also feels like he's not taking care of the baby enough, and he doesn't want to make his S/O upset. He's struggling to please everyone, but by doing so, he eventually gets so anxious that he struggles to do anything. He just needs a little time to adjust and try a few things to see what's working or not. He'll figure it out, but please, be patient. He's trying his best.

[demigodsanswer]

fluff 24 for the Roman Percy AU perhaps?? I love when you do prompt games!! Thank you!

“how mad would you be if i kissed you?”

Roman Percy AU -- AU where Percy is born a Son of Neptune, and he is swapped with Annabeth, instead of Jason (Son of Zeus). They have a long secret love affair. Here's how it starts ....

[prompt list]

~

Annabeth rarely felt secure in her relationships to other people. Everyone seemed to love pushing her away, abandoning her somewhere, or just straight up dying on her.

Percy was different though.

She had expected Percy to be a lot of things: brave, strong, unhinged, vaguely scary (although not so scary she was actually intimidated). He turned out to be brave and strong, and maybe scary depending on the day. But he was hinged, and more than that, he was funny, and nice. He respected her.

And he was hot. And he had a bad habit of looking at her when he told a joke. Why was she always laughing? Why could he always make her laugh?

On the Argo II, sailing towards certain death, two of a quest of seven, was pretty much the worst place in the world she could have developed a crush on someone. Percy was sure to go back to New Rome at the end of this. If either of them even survived. The odds of that were incredibly low.

But then Percy had gone and done something really monumentally dumb.

He'd fallen into Hell with her.

Annabeth had been left behind plenty of times. She'd had someone sacrifice her life to save Annabeth's own just once. She'd never had someone make sure that when she died, she didn't die alone. Percy had. He held onto her, tried to pull her up, and when that failed, he let go of the ledge, but not her.

But then of course, they hadn't died after all.

That had been the biggest surprise. They held the doors shut together as a muzak rendition of September played, and their bodies started to return to them.

She hadn't had time to kiss him when they got top side. They were too busy being possessed, because Tartarus itself hadn't been enough.

Relieved to be back in her own cabin, Annabeth showered, squeezing the grime out of her hair and scrubbing her body raw. Jason had been nice enough to get her favorite lemon shampoo for her, and to pack some of her favorite pajamas, since Annabeth was too busy becoming a Roman Preator to pack for herself.

The familiar scent of her shampoo overwhelmed her, and she gripped the cold wall of the shower as she realized it was the longest time she had ever spent away from camp. She hadn't been this far, this detached, this removed from camp life since she was seven.

The beauty of crying in the shower was that no one could see it or hear it. She let the water wash the suds out of her hair and then down the front of her face, to wash the tears away.

~

Annabeth comforted herself by slipping into her favorite pajama pants and an orange camp shirt.

When Percy knocked, she wished suddenly that her favorite pajamas were cute shorts or something. Not owl-printed fuzzy jammy pants.

But she opened the door to him before she could consider her wardrobe.

"Hey," Percy said. He also looked washed, his hair dry and going in a bunch of different directions. He had put on his purple SPQR shirt and just plain sweats. It would have made her feel better if they had sharks or fish on them.

"Hey," she said, trying to carefully rearrange her hair, but not sure how.

"I want to show you something," he said.

Percy held out his hand to her. She blinked. She took it. He blushed. She kept holding it.

~

Annabeth was trying to play it cool, but she was very aware that she didn't have a bra on, and Percy was leading her somewhere, somewhere that wasn't his bedroom, and everyone else was asleep, and he wasn't saying, anything except --

"This is my favorite part of the ship," Percy said. "Pegasus stables. Of course, the pegasi prefer the open skies."

"So why build it?" Annabeth asked looking around at the clean and not unpleasant spelling Pegasus space.

"I need somewhere to go where people won't find me," Percy said.

"And you don't think anyone would think to look for a son of Neptune in the stables?" Annabeth asked.

"They haven't so far," he said. He'd set up a picnic blanket for them in the middle of a large glass floor. "Come on," he said, trying to pull her towards it.

"So you can see the Pegasi coming in?" She asked, gesturing to the glass.

"Yeah, they open for them too," Percy said, pointing to the hinges.

"And what if they open on us?" Annabeth asked, sitting down on the blanket, trying to look ... sultry? Appealing? Not like she'd just crawled through Tartarus?

"Well, I guess we'd plunge to our death?" Percy said.

"We have to start thinking of better date ideas," she joked. And then she went red.

"I was hoping we could not think of Tartarus as our first date, maybe," Percy said. "Maybe we could think of this?"

Annabeth's heart pounded. Maybe she was supposed to be chill, play "hard to get" or something. That's what the Aphrodite girls would do, wasn't it?

But she wasn't an Aphrodite girl. She wasn't chill. She wasn't cool.

And, she realized, Percy wasn't either. He'd risked everything for her, this boy she hardly knew. He could have climbed out of the pit and left her to die, but he hadn't. And he was looking at her now. He'd led her here. He wasn't cool, or chill, or laid back about her.

Annabeth decided, for once in her life, not to make a plan, not to think it through. She pulled Percy in by the front of his shirt and kissed him hard.

He was a much better kisser than she was, she realized with some shame. She hadn't exactly kissed a lot of people. Clarisse once, Jason here and there with little enthusiasm. But Percy had kissed people. He knew how to move his mouth, how to touch her hair, and how to gently lean her back onto the blanket.

Annabeth felt his hand on her side, and then it was under her shirt. And then she was so aware that she didn't have a bra on. With a sudden surprise she realized he wanted to have sex with her. And then, with less surprise, she realized she wanted to have sex with him. Her body seemed to call out to his with a warm fuzziness she'd felt before, but never like this. It had never had such a clear, concrete direction. She'd never been so sure of what she needed to make it grow and then erupt.

Annabeth pulled him in closer, shifting her hips until he was laying between her legs. She'd barely ever kissed someone. She'd never gotten around to have sex. But she wanted to. She knew the mechanics, she knew the basics, she knew --

"Do you have a condom?" Annabeth asked.

Percy flushed. "Oh, um, no," he confessed. "I know they're on board, but I'd have to go to first aid."

Annabeth looked at him a little confused. "You don't want to --?" She tried not to feel totally rejected, but it was hard not to.

"I mean, you're hot, but," Annabeth frowned, already not liking where this was going, "am I allowed to?"

"Allowed to?" Annabeth asked, her voice a little louder than she meant it to be. "If I tell you you can, then yes, you're allowed. That's how consent works."

"I know that," Percy said, pushing off of her and sitting up on the other side of the blanket. "I just mean, aren't you a virgin?"

Annabeth went red. "What makes you think I'm a virgin?"

Percy was just as red as she was. "I mean, aren't kids of Minerva --"

"Athena!"

"Athena! Supposed to stay virgins?" Percy asked her.

"Who the hell told you that?" Annabeth asked.

"Leo!" Percy said.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "I don't know him that well, but I can tell you that he's full of shit. No, we don't need to stay virgins."

"Okay, I'm sorry," Percy said.

There was a long, horrible pause.

"I'm sorry," Percy said again, "if I offended you."

"It's okay. I'm sorry for yelling." She rubbed her face with her hands until she saw little floaties in her eyes. "It's just. ... Is it ... that obvious?" Annabeth asked, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Is what obvious?" Percy asked.

"That I'm a virgin?" Annabeth asked back, her voice low, her eyes on the blanket, not on him for once.

"No," he promised quickly, "and anyway, it's not like that's a bad thing."

"You're just saying that to be nice," Annabeth protested. "You've probably had sex with dozens of girls," she said, or mumbled, really.

Percy rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly. I knew it, Annabeth thought. Maybe it was for the best that they didn't have sex or kiss anymore.

"I haven't," he said suddenly. "I mean, I'm a virgin too."

Annabeth stared at him in disbelief. "But you're the son of Neptune. New Rome adores you."

"Yeah, sure, people have been trying to sleep with me since I was thirteen, doesn't mean I just let them," Percy said. "No one ever wants me because they like me, they want me because I'm powerful."

"Oh," Annabeth said, a heavy sense of guilt settling over her. She couldn't meet his eyes, and fixated instead on a loose threat on the blanket, which she started to pull at. "I'm sorry. That I assumed. I ... just thought ..." she didn't know what she thought. "I'm sorry if that's what you think I was --"

"I don't," Percy said. "I wouldn't have brought you here if I didn't want to ... I mean, I didn't think we'd have sex, obviously, but --"

"But if we could, you'd --?"

"If you wanted to, yeah."

They stared at each other for a moment.

"Look, we're equals, right?" Percy asked. Annabeth didn't move. "We are," he decided for her. "The gods decided that we were. They switched us, not me and Grace, not you and Reyna, you and me. And you know we're equals. You know you're just - if not more - powerful than I am. Look at what you've done!" He gestured around the stables, as if she had something to do with this space in particular. "I just feel like ... when I look at you, I see someone who ..."

Percy trailed off, so Annabeth picked up, pulling the tread out of the blanket and dropping it.

"I understand you," she promised. Annabeth reached across and grabbed his hand. "I do, I really do, Percy. What you've done, what you've done for me, no one's ever done something like that before. I wouldn't be alive without you. You're not like anyone else, you're ... you're ..." she met his eyes. They were so green, almost inhuman, uncanny, divine. "How mad would you be if I kissed you right now?" Annabeth asked.

"Not mad at all," he promised.

So she did. Annabeth adjusted to be on her knees and leaned into him again, slower this time. She did her best to study how his mouth moved on hers, and then she tried to mimic it. Percy was polite and didn't do anything too advanced like add tongue, but he did bite her lower lip, which made her groan. Her groan made him groan, and then she started to giggle.

"I might be a virgin, but I'm pretty sure it's not a good sign when the girl laughs," Percy said.

"It is," Annabeth said, running her hands through his hair and then smiling at the way rogue curls popped right back into place. "You make me really happy, Percy," she said.

"I hope when this is all over, if we survive, that we can ... stay in touch," Percy said. His hands were on her hips, and Annabeth let him guide her back down to kiss him again.

"I'm sure we can," Annabeth said. "Do you think we'll cause some cross-camp trouble?"

"Thought that's what the Parthenos was for? Camp solidarity?" Percy said.

"Good point. I didn't save a statue of my mom just to stay a virgin forever," Annabeth teased.

She hoped he'd laugh at her joke, but Percy was red again, but not with embarrassment.

"You know there are other things we can do that won't get you pregnant," he pointed out.

Annabeth kissed him again.

In the end, she couldn't exactly get off, and he got off a little too fast, but they enjoyed the experience all the same. Annabeth was ashamed at how clingy she felt after. She held onto him, him in the little spoon position, content to never let him go.

"Oh you two are in so much trouble!" She heard Leo say. She opened her eyes, and from the glass floor under her, she could see it was daylight. Busted.

[drhedicalhalpractice]

Okay fuck I've got more to say on the subject of how Wilson thinks House feels about him instead of just tag ranting (though I'll have to repeat some of that tag ranting) because holy shit my dudes.

As a basic premise, from the very start of the show, it is very clear to us the viewer that House has this best friend who is very, very important to him. That's just never a secret – House, who actively pushes everyone away, doesn't want to interact with patients, pretends he doesn't care about people, never tries to hide that he cares about Wilson. This is both towards Wilson himself and to other people – sure, maybe he doesn't come right out and say it, but it's so very clear in so many things he does and says.

Here's some scenes (very much from memory and out of chronological order, please bear with me) that highlight this very clearly:

After Vogler gets Wilson kicked off the board and Wilson accuses House of not thinking that their friendship (or Wilson's job) matters enough to him to give that speech. House started out making light of the situation, kind of twisting it into a joke, refusing to take accountability etc. but the moment Wilson says that, he immediately sobers and just straight up admits that no, actually, they do matter ° I remember being very surprised by this because this is only in S1 and I didn't expect House to be this sincere with Wilson ° Hell, the pilot had someone asking Wilson if House cared about him and Wilson was like "I don't know", so I took that as an indicator that House doesn't show he cares. But as it turns out, this is very much a Wilson problem, not a House problem!

The "You DOSED me!" conversation. 11/10 one of the most hilarious scenes in the show, but also! House is understandably upset that his best friend is depressed and he didn't know about it, but Wilson straight up tells him to stop acting hurt because he doesn't actually care. This is wild to me because everything in the way House talks suggest that he isn't just mad because he missed a puzzle piece, he genuinely wanted Wilson to tell him about this, but Wilson didn't trust him with it

Living together in Amber's apartment post-Mayfield. Wilson thinks he can't talk to House about his grief after Amber's death and prefers to talk to her instead of talking to House. Even when House directly offers/asks him to talk to him instead, Wilson outright rejects him and tells him that talking to him doesn't make him feel better but talking to her does. ° Amber is dead, she will not reply to him, yet Wilson considers this more of a comfort than anything House would offer him. Except, House is carrying so much guilt about Amber's death, I genuinely feel like he would've made an effort to be supportive in this instance ° In fact, at the start of S5 before Wilson leaves, House even says, "I know you're not [okay], but maybe I can help." and Wilson doesn't even acknowledge it (instead just proceeds to tell him that he should have been alone on that bus, good lord)

Two instances I clearly remember where they're arguing about things House genuinely seems insecure about in their friendship: ° When Wilson moves out of Grace's place and back into a hotel because he doesn't think it's a good idea to move back in with House, House asks him if they're okay despite all of it. His expression in that scene actually takes me out because he looks so sincere and the insecurity behind it is very badly hidden ° "Does it bother you that we don't have a social contract?" The fact that House feels the need to ask this and make sure that Wilson is fine with their dynamic speaks volumes imo

Honestly the entirety of the episode Wilson (S6E10). "If you die, I'm alone." All the trying to push Wilson to grow a spine and not let Tucker take advantage of him. Sitting by his bedside both as he wakes up from surgery and then again while he's recovering from the surgery. In fairness though, Wilson doesn't outright deny that House cares about him in this one.

During the roadtrip to House's dad's funeral. "And there's the foundation of our entire friendship. If you hadn't been bored one weekend, it wouldn't even exist." – "Hey, there were 3000 people at that convention. You're the one I thought wasn't boring." imagine being told that out of 3000 people there, the man who notoriously does not care about anything that doesn't intrigue him, picked you specifically to be his friend and has been obsessed with you ever since, and somehow rewriting that into a bad thing??? The way he says the "if you hadn't been bored" part sounds accusatory and kind of bitter, when that's just how friendships get formed sometimes? Wilson, what the hell are you on

The entirety of S8 following Wilson's cancer diagnosis is basically one huge declaration of love from House. But to be fair, I think by this point, even Wilson realizes that (...mostly, even though he still somehow interprets it as a "House needs me so he doesn't want to lose me" kind of thing instead of just fucking accepting that maybe the man just loves* him and that's why he doesn't want to lose him, god) *love being used non-romantically here, even without Hilson goggles on, they just undeniably love each other, however you choose to interpret it

All of this just makes me wonder what the hell Wilson's got wrong with him that leave him so completely and utterly unable to fathom that House could possibly care about him, despite the fact that House very explicitly shows him over and over. Wilson is usually so good at reading House and figuring him out, just not when it comes to himself, apparently. Dude has some serious issues and I am so very intrigued by it <3

[lunarruled]

While Kyleigh could understand Warren's reasoning for what he said, that moving like the dead was better than just straight running, she had to bite back her urge to ask him if he just felt the need to argue with everything someone else suggested. Yes he was smart, but he was book smart and that only got you so far. Kyleigh had run ins with those behind glass before, it didn't matter if they couldn't smell you. They could still see your movement through it so pretty much either way you were fucked unless you took it slow or knew how to move without being seen. Luckily for this group she was an expert at that, she just had to think of a way to phrase it in human terms.

But the problem she had was if they moved like those rotters, wouldn't they still be able to smell them? Scent was always a huge factor when it came to hunting, just because these things were dead didn't mean they didn't have those instincts still. Living people must have a scent that was strong enough for these things to pick up so how were they going to avoid that? Before she could voice her thoughts it was agreed that they would go with Warren's idea and all Kyleigh could do was pray that it worked. And that no one tripped or did anything to make them stand out.

Only watching Rosita for a few moments the half lycan was next to move, not wanting the other brunette to be alone in her efforts. Kyleigh kept her body rigid and her movements slow, shoulders slumped in a bit and her head down. Even her breaths were slowed, occasionally making a grunt or two like those around her. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she walked, ignoring the urge to glance around to see if the others were with them. Her own super sense of hearing allowed her to pick out the others steps, easing her fears that they were going to lose one of them in the process.

Thankfully this seemed to be the best idea anyone had so far and it didn't take long for them to move their way through the larger horde of the dead. Once she felt it was safe to do so Kyleigh straightened back up, rolling her sore shoulders and letting out a deep breath. "Seriously. That's the best way so far to make it through groups of them but how about we just avoid them all together next time if we can?" Sure that plan had worked this time, but what if they weren't so lucky if they had to do it again? What if there were more or what if they were being chased by other living people?

Thankful that she wasn't the one making all the decisions for now Kyleigh made sure to keep close to Rosita. She didn't want that woman taking all the blame should the shit hit the fan once they got inside the building, still on edge after going through that group. Nodding she pulled out two more knives and handed them to Warren and Irina, double checking with them both to make sure they were still okay with this. It was better that they say something now before the real action started. Making a mental note for later on when they were safe to for them all to form some kind of system when it came to the decision making, Kyleigh held her knife in her hand and readied herself for what was coming next.

Not trusting anyone to watch any of her sides Kyleigh let her full lycan instincts take control, eyes scanning each small inch she was exposed to as they made their way inside. The air had a stale smell to it but so far nothing like the rotten stench that was outside. Silence surrounded them as the four walked further in, their soft footsteps echoing off the walls. They didn't move too far from each other but Kyleigh could see each one of them checking the place out as if they were going to come back later. She did too of course, always on the ready to grab something that could be of use. Immediately all of her focus was thrown to the front where Rosita was as the dead that were inside began to realize they had fresh company. While she was confident that Rosita could handle herself the half lycan kept an eye on her as she went to help Irina get rid of the ones that were headed her way. It pained Kyleigh to see that one of them was young, barely sixteen years old but she did what she had to do. The bodies began to drop to the ground, the growls become quiet until they were no more.

When they were finished there were at least ten of them spread out, their corpses now ruining the death free scent that had been in the air. Kyleigh didn't know about the others but she did not want to stay there and breathe that in for too long. Squatting down she wiped her knife off on the pants of one them then began to check its pockets to see if it had any weapons on it. "Should we leave the bodies here or get rid of them? There's still a few rooms to check for supplies too. We need to secure that door we came in and any others we find."

Nothing too hard and something they should do no matter where they ended up staying. It was the first rule after clearing the area of any of the dead anyway. Then maybe take a break before exploring the rest of the building.

They were running low on time. They needed to get to that building as fast as possible to see if it made for decent shelter. Rosita was willing to use one of the knives to clear it out if it was necessary, too. As long as it wasn't swarmed with them, she would take it. Without shelter, the chance of surviving out there was near zero once it got dark and the dead could smell you, but you couldn't see them.

Warren didn't seem to think running was a good idea, though. Before Rosita could utter a single word, he was quick to argue that the dead would not be able to tell if they were human or not, not through the glass. "We should move like them until we've moved away from their point of view," he insisted firmly. "I've seen some dead ones behind glass doors before who did not react to stragglers on the street passing by. It's going to work."

Rosita nodded, even though she wasn't one hundred percent confident that plan would work. All she knew was that they were attracted to noise and could probably tell who was dead or alive by smell, or maybe by body warmth. All things which they couldn't sense through the glass. But imitating their movements would be tricky. How smart were they exactly? What if small differences in movement could give away that you were not one of the undead? Maybe it was still better to try if it would work first, though, instead of running, which would give away their humanity much quicker and inevitably make the dead bang on the glass.

If everyone agreed, Rosita would be the first to move forward, trying to keep her breath steady instead of holding it, which for some reason had been her first instinct. She took slow steps, arms slack as she strode forward in stiff, uncoordinated steps, as if she had no higher brain functions other than to move her body forward aimlessly. She avoided glancing towards the glass windows, remembering that if things went south, she would hear it anyway. Better not to risk ruining this by glancing towards the dead. Irina would be the last one to imitate their walk, observing the others and the way they walked closely before she would move forward.

Once everyone was out of their view, Rosita's jaw dropped, and she was quick to change her posture back to her straight, natural posture. "That really worked. Damn. Stealth is a smart strategy. Let's keep that in mind."

As they reached the next building, another one with glass windows, Rosita took a deep breath to prepare herself to enter it. It's only now that she notices she is taking the lead here. Looking at Irina's expression, it didn't seem like she had any faith in this. Maybe Rosita shouldn't act so confident. What if she could lead them all into a death trap? What if that walkway was a dumb idea?

But nobody had suggested another idea, and they didn't have the time to sit still.

"Kyleigh, hand everyone a knife. We need to be prepared", Rosita instructed. "Nobody goes in here unarmed, not on my watch."

Reaching a hand to open the door, she glances at the group, "I'll go in first. We stick close together, but keep enough distance so no one traps anyone. Move silently, watch where you're stepping. Kyleigh, you're on the left, Warren, you're on the right. Irina, you stay behind us, watching our backs."

Full military mode, Espinosa muttered to herself in her mind. She was beginning to sound like her military instructor, Dan. Damn, how she wished he had made it. She owed him all the skills she had. Dismissing the depressing thought, Rosita opened the door. Irina already closed it behind her gently, so no dead could sneak inside without Rosita needing to say anything. Good call. As they began to move, Rosita was surprised how stealthy everyone was, if she didn't know it any better she would've said the other three had military training as well. Even Irina had a quiet stride despite the tall heels of her boots. As she glanced at her unfortunate footwear, Rosita made a mental note to ask her for her shoe size and look out for any good pair of boots in her size.

Spotting the first undead, Rosita instantly drifted her eyes away from his eyes to avoid eye contact, her grip on her knife tight as she raised it. She couldn't take the sight of those lifeless, hungry eyes. Not anymore. "I can handle him", she assured the group in a whisper, but there was a hint of insecurity in her voice. That one was one of the freshly turned ones, coming towards her from the back of the room aggressively with its arm extended far and at a speed that almost seemed like jogging.

In the meantime, while the dead one walked towards Rosita, Irina warned the other two that two were emerging from behind the shelves on the right. Those two, Kyleigh and Warren, would have to take care of - and maybe even Irina would have to step in if things went south.

Remembering how many times her instructor Dan had killed them with knives, so the rest of the group wouldn't have to, Rosita gathered her strength and recalled the motion in her mind's eye. As she executed the movement she had observed so many times from the man who had led her first group, she gasped as the body dropped to the ground with a thud. She stared at the lifeless body for a second, just to make sure it wouldn't keep twitching. Unbelievable. She had just taken one out without a bullet. Within an instant, she shifted her attention back to the others to see how they were doing.

[wild-magic-oops]

I've read a lot of absolute dogshit takes about DATV but "Davrin should've been a templar" takes the cake with its bizarre existence and complete wrongness

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Trapped in a vicious cycle of pining? Try gay sex! (More things to learn over at Tiger Tiger!)

[gotwcird]

the whimper that slipped past his mouth made him feel pathetic, anton's teeth sinking into his bottom lip slapping him with arousal right up the head. had robin losing all sense of control, though he supposed it had never been there in the first place. he'd been vying for this all day, was giving his husband the leash and begging him to pull him out to play the whole afternoon. it just made him melt that much easier while his cock was being stroked, pleasure spooling out of his crotch towards all corners of his body at a rate that was enhanced knowing their new baby was right there, probably only a few feet away considering the beds were pushed against the thin wall that seperated them. "my hole belongs to anton," he repeated, louder this time, could tell how it bounced against the walls, out the door. shook with the onslaught of heat as anton's lips searched along his pulse, leaving marks on the delicate skin on his neck.

it was all almost too much, especially when added along with the sensation of his ass being played with. "i want you to fuck me, baby. make me regret teasing you," robin whined, tipping his head back, adam's apple bobbing up and down, "make me forget my name. remind me who i belong to." felt his heart skip as he watched anton begin to douse his fingers with lube, gasping when the cold sensation pressed and massaged into his waiting hole. wanted to badly to be opened up for use already, always found impatience in this part of the process. "i do, i love it!" he keened, pulling his knees up to give his husband a better angle to tease him, "love being your plaything, sir. want to be used-"

will's heartbeat thrummed in her ear. had been frozen there for far too long, listening in, the heat between her thighs now more pronounced enough that she couldn't ignore it. always assumed that the couple would be a bit more shameless, that they'd take her in soon, but there was almost no doubt that this was purposeful in some way. the positioning of the rooms, the bed, the words robin spoke . . . she stood up abruptly, blinking hard and fast. okay, she just needed to freshen up, splash some cold water on her face, then put on her airpods. didn't want to be so presumptuous, maybe the couple ( her daddies? would they be so formal? ) just got carried away. she brought herself towards the toilet, but then instead of going straight, she turned to the right and opened the door to her room. what the fuck was she doing? she turned her head over to the door she expected to be closed to the couple's room. but then her stomach stopped when she saw it opened, carrying robin's sounds out even better now. will felt her whole body pulse then, eyes widening. what the fuck?

Anton loved seeing his devolve into a needy mess, the charm and bravado from all that teasing slowly slipping away from his composure. Loved it even more when he got so vocal, begging and moaning for him. He captured his lips again mid-groan, sucked on his tongue and bit down on Robin's bottom lip. Roughly groped at his slick hardness as he wrapped his fist around the length. Palmed along the wet head and used that arousal to coat his cock, allowing him to stroke him. The longer he teased and played with him, the louder they both got. Their heavy panting and moans mixed into the air, knew the volume was slipping out past the open bedroom door for their new baby to hear. Wondered what Will was possibly thinking and feeling just from this little audible display.

"Say that again, Robin. Say it louder," Anton demanded into his husband's ear. Nibbled roughly on his ear lobe before wrapping his lips around his neck. Sucked harshly against his skin and tasted the saltiness on his tongue. Knew it would leave a delicious mark as a reminder of who Robin belonged to. Let his finger continue to dip and circle along his puckered hole. "What do you want me to do to you?" Only moved to retrieve the bottle of lube once satisfied with Robin's answer. Doused his fingers generously before prodding his digits back against his hole, massaging and teasing. "You love this, don't you? Love it when I play with you like this, hm?"

[brionysea]

when max is depressed we know something's wrong because lucas says with his words that he knows something's wrong but when mike is depressed we don't think anything of it because will's right next to him rolling his eyes about how stupid straight people are

[rotisseries]

the "caitlyn is the daughter ambessa wanted" rhetoric around act 1 means that now i have to see tiktok comments like "ACTUALLY she would never want a daughter who could be so EASILY manipulated" like well i think you're both wrong about how ambessa felt about caitlyn. i think it's a secret third thing

[violetren]

Yeah this is exactly where that divide between useful term and it becoming an overused buzzword sits .

The comic was enjoyable even without ever playing the game that came before it, it was self contained enough that you could get invested and understand the stakes based on what was occurring in the text and how it was presented.

There was no homework (in the og sense of the term) necessary in order to know what the hell was happening.

If anything, there was a recommended reading list but that's kinda how it is with every expansive franchise. If you had played the game first then perhaps you might have started the text more invested in the cast from the beginning because you had just completed a journey with them and overcome their challenges yourself. As a result the highs and lows of the text might have been enhanced further potentially leading to a more enjoyable reading, but that's entirely subjective. You may just as easily have become aware of an inside joke that isn't to your taste or noticed a discrepancy in character that was an unfortunate byproduct of the different media formats that annoyed you. Conversely now that you have read the comic if you went and played the game now you might be more invested because you know what awaits the characters if you can get them through this and so you might like the game better.

The point is the IDW comic run did its job properly. It recognised it was made as part of a larger franchise and that the franchise was popular enough that people may expect certain dynamics and plots to be in play. However it also recognised it was a comic not a game and that the audiences for those mediums are a ven-diagram not a perfect circle so they used the story telling conventions of their format to make sure new readers who were brought in by the cool cover or the interesting blurb could tell what was going on.

Plenty of big franchises are capable of this and do it just fine despite fan complaints. Think of Doctor Who reintroducing Daleks for the first time in 2005 series. There were viewers who straight up weren't born yet the last time a Dalek was on screen. Maybe they'd heard some shit about scary trash and with egg whisks and plungers stuck on front freaking out their parents, but they didn't have an emotional connection to Daleks.

Then we meet one the bowls of an eccentric rich man's bunker. and the doctor who had been so jammy at the start of the episode suddenly becomes dark and angry in a way that even freaks out Rose. then they start using horror movie monster conventions to show how the Dalek just. keeps. coming.

New fans don't know what it was like for the oldies, but they sure as hell know what a Dalek is now, and don't have to go do homework about it. But if they are curious about the full extent of the history of conflict between Daleks and Timelords well the old series is out there.

To call diving into playing sonic or watching classic!who homework in these circumstances definitely would be needlessly derisive and unfair both to the quality of the franchise and the person who found enjoyment in it as you said in your initial post.

But let's pretend for a second these thing just sucked.

What if the 9th doctor had just seen the Dalek and killed it immediately without any fan fare then just told rose she didn't get it and she should either get over it or get ready to go home? No showing us how monstrous a Dalek could be. No background on why seeing one would provoke a murder response in a guy who normally does everything he can to get an Everybody Lives Ending.

Old fans might've gotten it. They'd maybe complain about the terrible presentation but they would get it, and have the nostalgia of all the times Daleks freaked them out. New fans though would've just been hit with an out of pocket change in character. They'd have their trust in the story telling broken much more severely. Suddenly you'd have old fans going "well actually it's not THAT bad, it was a Dalek after all. Anyone who has watched classic!who knows exactly why he was justified and his actions weren't that insane actually. Not everything can be for new fans, it's not the showrunners fault you're uncultured."

Then there would be homework. Then it would be completely reasonable to complain about needing to do it. In that case you need to read up on what the history is for the plot to make sense as opposed to having the option of reading up on it to enhance the emotional depth for your own enjoyment.

It's something that happens but rarely on the scale or to the severity that i feel like a lot of people act like it does. Except maybe in comic circles. Between trying to keep company mandates straight and the decrease in use of editors notes in modern comics it can happen there a lot.

Is "franchise homework" actually bad?

I was in a conversation with Star Wars and Doctor Who fans who wanted to have more constructive discussions compared to the destructiveness of the wider fanbases. The topic of "franchise homework" popped up in the form of Ahsoka and the latest seasons of Doctor Who having Classic Who villains return after so long.

Putting aside how they were executed in storytelling (like I do NOT wanna go down that exhausting fanwank), the topic of them being user-unfriendly came up as it seemed to enjoy these new installments, a new fan would've had to be familiar with what came before.

An argument often being that it should follow the creed, "Every comic is somebody's first" with Star Wars and Doctor Who having a long history dating back to the 70s and 60s respectively. Thus spin offs or continuations should remember the new generation of fans even as they return for the old.

The other side of the argument claimed that even when some installments are heavily branching out from what came before, that doesn't preclude newer fans from jumping in and taking it as part of a long legacy or a slice of the franchise that may invite them to discover more.

In the case of Doctor Who, Classic villains and characters have often been reintroduced with the understanding that the Doctor is an immortal being who has been on countless adventures before Rose Tyler found her job blown up by the Ninth. Additionally, more and more of Classic Who has been uploaded free to YouTube with some serials being more timely than others.

In the case of Ahsoka, one made a cheeky remark of how it was quite the power move to make a live action installment a sequel to two animated runs. Given how animations been getting the shaft lately, it is one I respect deeply.

That said, another argument was how we've had the likes of Dragon Ball Z and Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Stardust Crusaders released overseas. The latter especially enjoyed immense success as a gateway Anime despite how they skipped over 155 episodes when it was released in the USA.

Even in Japan, Dragon Ball Kai, released in 2008, only covered the Z portion of the Anime.

As such, I could see Ahsoka working as a standalone series. A fan would realize that the rebellion was more than just Luke, Han and Leia as well as how Anikan's padawan means that a loooot went down during the Clone Wars. Maybe they heard of the Clone Wars and Rebels series but was all "Ewww, cartoons" before this got them curious.

I feel like "homework" is needlessly derisive when "homework" means you aren't having fun. But if you're this into the property, maybe the installment that came before will be interesting to see. Why not have more of a thing you are invested in?

It just... doesn't sit with me right.