#and i know things could go another way but i think its funniest if they all fucking hate each other

[skydaemon]

alecto the ninth is just gonna be harrowhark nonagesimus and the bad bitches she pulled by being swagless and insane

[cordyce]

ao’nung is frustrated.

at least, that’s what you’ve deduced from watching him sharpen his knife for the past ten minutes straight. if he keeps going, it might get as thin as a wish bone; threatening to snap at the slightest bit of pressure. as much as you’d find amusement in the sight of that, you’d rather not be in the crossfire when it happens.

“what’s got you caught in its net?” you ask, finally, as you drop the gear you’ve been mending while ao’nung simmers.

“funny,” he mutters, but mirth is not something found in his tone. another scrape, another grating. he does not look over at you.

“i know. i’m the funniest person alive. you should be grateful you have the opportunity to bask in my presence.”

it’s a ploy—a tease. like waving fresh bait in front of a young ilu but never tossing it into the water for them to eat. your tactic with ao’nung is always the same. push and pull and prod just enough that he bites back with less venom and more demure. because sarcasm is better than spite, in all regards.

except now, he doesn’t take it. now, he simply keeps his head tucked down, his lips pressed in a hard line. whittling at his knife and spouting invisible steam out of his ears.

you stand up, make your way over to him and bend slightly at the waist to slide your hands along his sloped shoulders. his muscles go taut—just a bit—at the initial contact of your palms, but relax a second later. not to their resting state, no, but leaving the field of caught off guard at the very least. you hum, lean down further as you dip your hands over his clavicles, across the upper half of his sternum.

“what is wrong, ao‘nung?” its sincere, this time. your question. because despite the dynamic between the two of you, you really do care—jokes and jabs aside.

this silence is different. you can tell by the twitch of his ears that he’s thinking; mulling something over on his tongue before he decides whether to spit it out or swallow it down. you can never guess which one it will be, not with him. he acts on whims, never strategy. there is no speculating his next move, so you simply don’t try to.

“there has been talk among the reef.” it’s all he says; all he gives. such a shell of a man, forcing you to pry open his jaws to reach the pearl within.

it is good that you’ve always been so skilled with your hands.

“there is always talk among the reef,” you chuckle, begin to fiddle with the necklace that’s strung around his neck. hooking your chin over the top of his head, you look down to watch as he grinds his knife once again. “you know they like to keep their minds busy with silly things.”

“it isn’t a silly thing.”

“oh? then tell me, what is so dire that it could have the great ao’nung this tense, hm?”

his hands falter for the first time, a pause in his rhythmic grazing. your brows furrow at that, create a hairline crease in the middle that only smooths out as he resumes his motions. scrape, scrape, scrape again. it’s like he’s doing it in sync with his heart. if you shifted your hand over just a tad, you suppose you could test that theory.

“it is talk of you.”

quiet. a mere grumble under his breath. if you were not leaned over him like this you would not have even heard him. such an odd twinge to his tone; laced with something you can’t quite decipher. can’t quite pick up on. it isn’t necessarily anger, but something flirting along the lines of it.

“me? don’t tell me you have went around spreading rumors that i am possessed by eywa’s evil sister again. i thought you stopped that when we were kids.” you laugh through it, because the jagged edges of his timbre are making your fingers itch. “you’re going to ruin my reputation.”

he scoffs. condescending, dismissive. normally you’d take that as a good sign; a call back to his regular grating demeanor. at this specific moment, however, you find annoyance in it.

“your reputation is fine,” he tilts, gives a particularly harsh press of his knife that makes you think this just might be the time where it snaps. miraculously, it doesn’t. “so completely fine.”

“then what could they possibly find reason to speak of me for?” you press, rubbing your thumb over the cord of his necklace, twisting it around your fingers. “i have not caused any trouble lately. haven’t set fire to any maruis. why, there’s nothing that i can think of that could possibly warrant—“

“they speak of your lack of mate.”

his hands are working harder, less refined. jaw clenching, deltoids growing stiff below you. it’s all starting to air itself out, his jaws have cracked open just enough that you can finally see the pretty pink pearl that rests on the bed of his tongue. but it is not enough, not yet.

“then all they speak is the truth,” you shrug over him, keep your gaze locked on his movements. you want to be sure, before you jump to the assumptions that are creating hurdles in your mind. “there is no harm in speaking of public knowledge.”

“they—“ he hitches, twists his face up like his next words are sour on his tastebuds, “they are voicing their thoughts on potentials for you. they think.. rotxo is the best option.”

“oh, yes. rotxo would be a fine potential mate.”

and, ah. there it is. the coup de grace.

ao’nung snaps his head around towards you so fast you hardly have time to lean back to avoid getting smacked in the chin by his skull. there’s a fissure between his brows, his eyes have widened past the aggravated slits they were before. his mouth is cracked open in disbelief, of the fact that you agreed with him or another matter, you aren’t sure. either way, it is clear now what has been getting under the heir’s skin.

he's jealous. and you can't help but find that the slightest bit amusing. it's not often you have ao'nung in the palm of your hand like this; akin to a bug squirming under the pad of your thumb with no clear route of escape. you think you can play this up, just a little.

"you do not think that," he states, like he needs to speak it into existence. like if he says it then it will ring true, change your mind.

(he doesn't need to change your mind, but he doesn't need to know that right now).

"why would i not?" you hum, tip your head like you're truly contemplating it. "he is sweet. has a tender heart. and he is always so quick to help me. he doesn't even complain. i think taking him as a mate would be a good decision."

"the only thing good about rotxo is his hair," ao'nung spouts, rolls his eyes at you as his face fills up with indignation. "stupid, pretty boy goody two shoes."

"oh, you're right! and he's nice to look at," you agree, nod your head right along with it, "how could i forget?"

his cheek dips; he's sucking it in between his teeth. you've really done it, you think. setting him off has never been so easy. sure, it’s never too hard to get him riled up in the middle of a bickering match. but like this? aggravated over, what, exactly? the thought of you with someone else?

maybe you’re enjoying this a bit too much.

“he is not your type.” a bold proclamation, ao’nung spits out. grasping for straws; searching blindly. “you would not go well with him.”

“i think he is my type, actually,” you dispute, and he’s stopped all his movements now. knife long forgotten as he seethes over every word you speak. “kind. loyal. good morals. easy on the eyes. yes, definitely my type. that checks off the list.”

he purses his lips, knots up his brows. “that cannot be the list.”

“no?” you peruse, play into him. he makes this too easy, really. “what do you think is on the list, then? moody? messy? long hair? a tendency to be mouthy? being the chief’s son?”

that earns you a shove off of him; a click for him to realize you’ve been fucking with him this entire time. biting back your shit eating grin would be impossible so you don’t even try to. nor do you stop the laughter that bubbles out of you as he goes back to his knife work and curses you under his breath.

you reach for him again except this time you walk around until you’re in front of him. one hand on his shoulder, you lean down to shove the knife and sharpener out of his hands and plop yourself right into the slot his crossed legs have made. his gaze is narrowed at you, his lips jutted. you simply smile—innocent, sweet—as you slide your hands around to cup the nape of his neck.

“i don’t think rotxo could handle me,” you murmur, sickeningly saccharine in such a direct contrast from seconds before. ao’nung doesn’t budge. “and the good ones are always so boring. if he was my mate, when would i ever get the chance to get up to trouble?”

“you are trouble,” ao’nung scoffs; acting annoyed, fed up. but his hands give him away as they meet the dimples of your lower back, as they slide up your spine to hold you secure so you don’t fall backwards.

his facade of pretending to not care has never been too full proof. there’s been cracks in that glass since day one.

“your trouble,” you grin. your fingers begin to draw circles along the back of his neck, tease at his hairline. “you made me this way, you know.”

“i made you nothing,” he rebuts. “you are the one who always comes up with the pesky ideas that get us scolded.”

“ah, you’re right,” you agree with a faux sigh. “humor and brains. i guess i’m the funniest and smartest person alive. truly, you should be honored.”

ao’nung rolls his eyes, peels his hands off of you. “forget ability, i do not wish to handle you now. rotxo can have you, for all i care.”

“oh?” you quirk, begin to stand up. “should i go see what he is up to—“

“sit,” ao’nung orders before you can rise no more than a few inches off of his lap; hands gripping your waist to tug you back down. the playfulness drains from his eyes, that annoyance—jealousy—flashes across sea foam irises for just a moment. “you are not funny.”

you bite the edge of your lip, making your grin turn slanted. he is so fun to tease, to toss around. his palms are warm on the dip of your waist. sliding your hands further back, you skim your finger along the side of the braid encasing his queue. faint, light. he tries to hide the shiver it causes but you pick up on it regardless. and that only makes you grin wider.

“they will speak of me until i choose a mate,” you hum as you lean closer to him, minimize the distance between your faces. “rotxo is not the only name that will be paired with mine. they all like to place their bets, you know.”

“their bets are stupid,” ao’nung mutters; gruff and rumbling out of his chest as his attention flickers, falters, the closer you get.

being this close is nothing new. being this touchy is nothing new, either. but it’s almost like your skin is buzzing, your energies feeding off one another in the moment that sends you tumbling into a smug streak. or maybe, that’s just the power ao’nung holds over you and you’re scared to admit it.

“you only think they’re stupid because your name is being outnumbered in the betting pool.” maybe that’s a little mean, but it’s fun. your fingertips are heavier now, more directed as you trace the divots of his braid with one hand and gauge the rise and fall of his chest with the other. “if you were winning, would they be stupid then?”

“i am winning,” ao’nung conveys, so sure and lacking any sense of doubt in the slightest; a variance from a few moments before. and that, well, that actually makes you falter—for just a second.

“and how do you figure that?” you mumble out the question into the minute slot between the two of you. bated and breathy.

ao’nung hooks an arm around your waist, his other hand sliding up to grip the hinge of your jaw. not harsh, not rough, but firm. cradling you carefully but securely; solidly. your breath hitches, your fingers pause on their skimming across his queue encasing.

“because i am the only one who gets to do this,” he says. blunt and honest and certain as he closes the gap severing you.

he kisses you full and deep and warm. he kisses you like he has not eaten in days and you are the one thing that can sate his hunger. he kisses you like the ocean kisses the shore; yearning and all consuming, and rushing back once more as soon as their lips must part.

and he does; chase your lips as you pull back to catch your breath. places one, two, three pecks there before he deems it a safe retreat. his eyes are lidded, but no longer from frustration. that signature crooked, haughty smirk of his is curved into his pale lips. and instead of smacking it off, you’re considering how many more kisses it would take to wipe it away.

“oh yeah,” he chuckles, lips brushing over yours as he’s already leaning in again. “so winning.”

and you can’t help but agree.

likes & reblogs appreciated !

[genericpuff]

All That Glitters is Not Feminism - An Analysis of LO's Brand of "Feminism" and What Remains of its Fanbase (The Twist)

Alright y'all, I've been waiting a hot minute to talk about this because I wanted to see how it fully panned out before saying anything about it. And it's not even specifically about LO, but I do think it's very adjacent to it in a way that I'm sure you'll be shocked to hear. Much of it speaks to how we prop up white writers even at the expense of POC.

This is 'the twist' attached to my first post that I made just a couple hours ago that concerns an entirely other topic but I feel ties into this subject very well.

If you haven't heard, there's this author who recently fucked around in the Del Rey publishing scene.

Her name is Cait Corrain.

In the original tweet calling this person out, names were not dropped, but it was made very clear that what Cait did was unacceptable behavior.

You can read the entire thread that started it all from Xiran here:

There's also a GREAT recap thread from one of the affected authors, Bethany Baptiste:

I want to make it clear that Cait Corrain isn't just a debut author.

Cait Corrain is - or now, was (foreshadowing is a literary device that-) - a debut author who had an agent, a publishing deal with Del Rey (an imprint of Random House which is a MAJOR publisher) and even an upcoming Illumicrate deal - meaning, her book was going to be packaged in a monthly loot crate subscription shipped directly to people's doors, quite possibly one of the best marketing deals a debut author could ever get, usually unheard of in this industry. All the pre-reviews were strong and positive.

Cait's book was literally set up for success. All she had to do was sit back, relax, and watch the fruits of her labors roll in. She had written the book. It was ready for release. The hard part was technically over.

But I guess the racism brainrot got to her because as it turns out, since April - for EIGHT MONTHS - she's been making alternate accounts on GoodReads to review bomb the indie and debut works of her friends and peers, most of whom were POC and did not have the same opportunities set up for them as she did. There are loads of receipts to back this up that you can find in those above threads ^^^

To say that this is appalling is an understatement. This was an intentional and deliberate act of racism by a white queer writer who claimed to be "jealous" - of what, I can't imagine - so much so that she deliberately sabotaged her peers, people who had supported her and her book.

And then when she got caught? She doubled down on it and claimed it was a "friend", also an alternate account she made up.

The exchange between her and this made-up person is actually the funniest shit out of this entire thing, it's so poorly written and as soon as people noticed the time stamps were out of order, that was when it truly cemented her newfound clown status.

"oooooh he's standing right behind me, isn't he?" energy right here LMAO

yes keep expositing cait, that's really selling the "this is a genuine conversation that really happened with a real person" bit 🤡

Anyways, it became abundantly clear that Cait was just going to continue to dig her heels in over something she caused.

This has been a hot topic in the UnpopularLO Discord, not just because of how crazy of a situation it is that we had to talk about it - and we have people within the community who work in the literature and media sector - but because we noticed one very telling thing in the list of series that she had review bombed in her very own personal act of wrath.

You see, Cait made one fundamental mistake that led to her undoing - she didn't just review bomb the works of her peers, she positively reviewed her own book and others.

What's her book about though?

It's an Ariadne x Dionysus retelling set in space.

It's literally another "modern retelling" of Greek myth.

And wouldn't you know it, guess who else created a modern retelling of Greek myth that she included in her positive review raiding while she was sabotaging the work of her actual peers?

Now, I think it goes without saying that what I'm about to say should be taken with MOUNTAINS of salt, I'm sure a lot of you are reading the headline and going, "Ugh, really? You're gonna make this about LO? Could you give it a rest already???"

I need you to understand, with the current state of Rachel's fanbase and 'modern' Greek myth literature as a whole, at this point Lore Olympus - and the works that are literally inspired by it such as A Touch of Darkness - has basically become the shopping cart litmus test of basic decency. It's like when someone says they like Harry Potter - you can't take it automatically at good faith anymore, because there isn't a whole lot separating someone who simply liked Harry Potter as a kid and still rewatches the movies from time to time from someone who fully supports the politics and agenda of J.K. Rowling. No, not everyone who still watches the movies or reads the books fondly is a TERF by default, but it's justifiably a reason for suspicion when the consequences are often too dire to risk.

There's this thing that's been happening in the LO fanbase that I frankly saw coming, but has really recently started to hit its peak. It's what I call the "Kanye Effect", where the comic has become so absurd and backwards in its misogyny and white feminism that the only people who seem to be left supporting LO are the people who are legitimate white feminists and misogynists - because all the normal level-headed people fell off the comic ages ago (or transitioned into the critical side of the community).

I mentioned it in my last post, but it bears repeating - Rachel's fanbase has literally been shipping Hera, a victim of abuse, with her abuser, Kronos. I'm really hoping a lot of them realize how fucked up that is now that Hera herself has called it what it is - abuse - within the comic, but I also can't count on the LO fanbase picking up on that or even noticing it with how quickly people swipe through it each week, it's very apparent at this point that most of LO's readers don't know how to chew their food and don't pay attention when Persephone and Hades aren't onscreen.

But I'm digressing. Or am I? We're talking about Crown of Starlight after all. The debut Dionysus x Ariadne sci-fi/fantasy romance that was quite literally advertised using Lore Olympus as its baseline-

This. This is what the ongoing cultural erasure and white feminist uwu-fication of Greek myth is doing to the literary zeitgeist surrounding Greek myth as a whole. This is why we criticize Lore Olympus and works like it that are created by disingenuous people who only seek to use the assets of Greek myth material as a way to shoot themselves up into fame and stardom. This is why we demand better standards in the literature and webcomic industry, so that people like Rachel and Cait can't use their privileges to quite literally erase the source material that they used to make themselves famous in the first place.

If anything, Cait's actions didn't just affect the people she negatively review bombed, or the people she was affiliated with, but also the people she positively reviewed. While I don't support what Rachel creates, she wasn't the only one who Cait went out of her way to review positively from her alt accounts, there were many others as evident in the Google Doc - but all this really does is tarnish the legitimacy of these books and their ratings by artificially jacking up their numbers that are advertised to others.

Making Greek myth fanfiction or fun creative retellings was never the problem, but it's now being sabotaged alongside so many other genres and mediums by toxic white individuals who can't even keep themselves from committing hate crimes, let alone create something purely for entertainment that's transparent in its illegitimacy, lest it destroy the illusion that these people are qualified to speak over those whose voices are being stifled, often by these very same people. Many of these writers get caught and are still allowed to continue what they're doing - that was certainly what we feared with Cait.

Until today.

It was revealed today that Cait's book will no longer be featured in the Illumicrate May 2024 box.

Del Rey has dropped Crown of Starlight from their publishing schedule.

Daphne Press will be hopefully following suit.

And, most telling of all, Cait's own agent has severed ties with her.

For anyone not familiar with the inner workings of the publishing industry, Cait has essentially been blacklisted. Without an agent or a publishing house, she'll have to entirely rely on her own resources through self-publishing. Unless she manages to sneak her way back in under an alias (which I wouldn't put it past her to try) she no longer has access to the mainstream publishing industry that was already guaranteed for her before she let her 'jealousy' get the better of her.

Her career was already made for her. She had a red carpet laid out for her debut. Her book was getting good pre-reviews and she had quite literally nothing keeping her from her success. The best thing she could have done was nothing. Somewhere in her head, she made up a threat that didn't exist, and sealed her fate in acting on it, a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I think in these situations such as with Cait Corrain, Rachel Smythe, and - also recently and relevant - James Somerton, we need to become increasingly aware of how white voices are still overpowering POC voices, not just in their actions, but in the opportunities they're given over others which they then use to further stifle the voices of those they feel "threatened" by or feel entitled to speak over. While neither James nor Rachel have used sock puppet accounts to "take out the competition" (at least as far as we know lmao) James did quite literally steal the words and voices of queer writers who were deserving of their time in the spotlight, and Rachel's work is being quoted as "rewriting Greek myth" as if its blatant gentrification and appropriation should be marketed as some sort of positive.

It's all too common for these deeply-rooted prejudices to rear their ugly heads and for the people who carry them to act out in this way while justifying it as "jealousy" or "a mistake". This isn't jealousy. This isn't a mistake. This isn't someone "starting drama". This is genuine, targeted hate, with the intention of snuffing out the voices of others who should be empowered, not silenced.

All that time and effort, and for what? Racism and petty jealousy? It just goes to show, it doesn't matter how many opportunities you're given, how high up on the ladder you already are - it won't fix the deeply-rooted insecurity and racial pettiness that spurs people on to do such horrible things.

I've spent enough of my time and words today talking about Cait, and James, and Rachel. So to end this off, I want to join in with all the others who have highlighted the books that were review-bombed by Cait, and help in uplifting them so they can have successful debuts. I'll be pre-ordering a few of them, so I'll be happy to make dedicated posts for them in the future after they release. Please consider purchasing them for yourself if you want some new reading material <3

The Poisons We Drink by Bethany Baptiste:

So Let Them Burn by Kamilah Cole:

To Gaze Upon Wicked Gods by Molly X Chang:

Mistress of Lies by K.M. Enright

Voyage of the Damned by Frances White:

(I'm sure there are plenty others so if I missed any here, please let me know so I can add them here and check out their books!)

If there's any silver lining to this, I hope that it makes people aware of the media they consume and who it's being created by. I hope it makes people more willing to seek out the books that aren't getting the same opportunities as Cait Corrain and Rachel Smythe. I hope it's a wake-up call to the industry that matters like this need to be taken seriously and that POC writers are still being silenced under their own noses. And most of all, I hope it's a reminder that we shouldn't even need at this point that this behavior is not okay, no matter what level a person climbs to - that just because someone is part of one minority doesn't mean they're not capable of sabotaging another. It sucks that that has to be said, it sucks that despite these groups being so intersectional there are still people within them who submit to their deeply-rooted insecurities and find ways to feel threatened that they use to justify hateful behavior.

Having a platform is a privilege. It should never be weaponized against your own peers or those who you simply feel "threatened" by for no reason beyond your own imposter syndrome or doubts or internal struggles. Because as much as you may feel like you've earned where you are, that never gives you the right to weaponize your opportunities against others who were never given those same opportunities in the first place. "Feminism" is not using your power to crush "other women". "Progressiveness" is not exclusive to the progress that only benefits you.

I wish only the best to those who were affected by the actions of Cait Corrain. You deserve to be heard and seen and appreciated for the work you do and the abuse you've had to tolerate. I look forward to your debuts in 2024 <3

[princeoftheeternalbog]

Okay i have the hiccups right now so here's how i think different people from one piece would react to you having the hiccups(is this too weird? who knows).

SFW but ever so slightly, like if you dont squint you will miss it suggestiveness, on law's part.

Luffy

Probably caused them lets be honest here. Also probably thinks it's the funniest thing and laughs hysterically every time your hiccups interrupt you.

Zoro

Tells you to fuck off vacate the area because he can't concentrate. When he's alone he flushes bright red thinking about you.

Sanji

Thinks it's the cutest thing ever and it's so annoying. He's fussing over you to the point where he doesn't notice your hands reaching for his neck. Eventually helps you get rid of them and also finds a way to flirt with you over it. 'I wish I could hear more of your sweet sounds'-headass.

Brook

Thinks it's cute but is less weird about it. Might laugh at you a little bit and most definitely will try to scare you out of them. But like seriously he has no remorse, his soul form is chasing you around the ship, you're crying, your hiccups have been gone for 10 minutes.

Franky

Tries to help you get rid of them while going on about how SUPERRR cute you are. You feel the least irritated with him.

Usopp

Gave you them and feels really guilty about it even though it doesn't harm you in any way whatsoever. Thinks you're dying because Robin said something scary. Is sobbing.

Robin

Tells you some scary ass legend or ancient tradition relating to hiccups and it ends up getting rid of them because you're that frightened.

Nami

Charges you for every hiccup because 'youre disrupting the peace'. You are even more in debt than usual.

Law

Helps you get rid of them but in the worst ways. Like that trick where it says you can drink a teaspoon of vinegar to get rid of them? Yeah. Also doesn't give you a choice about it, like if you try to run he's restraining you(😊).

Kidd

Gets annoyed too quickly, like within the first two hiccups his eye is twitching. Just leave the room for your own safety.

Killer

Thinks its a bit cute and makes no attempt to help you whatsoever.

Ace

Also has hiccups.

Marco

Will help you get rid of them🫶 but also finds its funny especially when you start getting annoyed.

Izou

Thinks it's cute but when it starts interrupting your usual tasks(sitting still while he meticulously applies his makeup on your pretty face) he starts getting frustrated and enlists other people to help get rid of them.

Sabo

Another one that causes the hiccups but has been trying to do it for ages because he's made it his mission to find out everything about you(he's obsessed with you).

[zoropookie]

HOW HATERS ARE BORN (HHAB)

♡ chapter thirty-two — do your taxes (💋)

The funniest thing about apple orchards is that there's never just one type of apple orchard.

Why were they all unique? He would never care enough to find out. The main point is that he's got one now; and even with his extensive research on said orchards, he can't even find the proper way to take care of 100 per acre.

That's how he felt as his violet eyes examined the nature, almost with malicious eyes.

The orchard was in its bloom, a quilt of colors as green and gold under the sun had grown duller from the overcast day. It was ironic, really. He was convinced Sumeru never rained except for around the woods, and even then, there’s no thunderstorms. He thought picking a desert would make it so that people wouldn’t feel inclined to figure out where he lives, but at this rate, he was better off just selling the orchard part of the home to some guy who really likes fruit.

Scaramouche— or rather, Kunikuzushi...knew Furina did this on purpose. But jokes on her, really, he has much more discipline than she thinks.

It was taunting him, especially because he knew his lack of expertise and despite that, the trees still stood proud. The rows were endless, each one seemed to rustle softly under the unnatural clouds of the day.

Deciding to leave it, he opted to go back inside and waste away with the nagging feeling of that fucking orchard again. He stepped away as his steps crunched softly on the gravel path back to his front door. It was like the neglect was oddly making them stronger of a threat to him.

It was kind of offensive. How they just live on without him. But it was also what he'd hope would happen with everything anyway. Maybe he didn't know everything about orchards, and maybe he never would. But all he did know was that he wouldn't see himself enjoying the sickly smell of the fruit rotting soon. Was this going to be on his taxes? Doesn't matter, he's evading them this year, just like he does everything else.

'Horrible idea', he thought. Do your taxes.

Once he went back inside, the dim lights and the cool air of his home welcomed him again. But it wasn't a miserable type of welcome, for once. The air was what he wanted it to be, different from the overwhelming perfume of apples outside.

The longer he mulled on it, the worst his thoughts nagged at him. So instead of looking up someone to take care of his orchard, he yet again began to start reading one of the many books about garden and orchard care he bought at some abstract store in the city on his coffee table.

It took up hours of his time at once— taking notes, reading more, reading another book to confirm his suspicions. The words blurred together and he would force himself to consume the material again.

He was only actually taken out of the fixation once he heard a soft knock on his door many hours later. His head snapped up quickly, his bleary-looking eyes blinking multiple times to clear his haze. With a deep sigh, he closed the books, stretching his stiff muscles. He quickly rose from the chair once the knock sounded off yet again.

When he opened the door, his entire brain flatlined in an instant. You were standing there, a suitcase beside you and an unordinary looking cat nuzzling the leather. The sight of your presence, mainly very out of place in his domain. He had no idea what to say, so he didn't say anything at all. His lips parted smally, awkwardly looking everywhere except your eyes. "Hey."

"Hey," You remained straight face, the cat meowing softly, rubbing against your leg now. "I didn't know you knew how to farm." Your voice was as gentle as the knock.

"I don't." He responded, also just as straight face. "Your cat?"

"Housewarming gift."

There was no way that he could take care of a cat with how worried he is with the orchard. No matter how much the cat looked into his eyes and matched his expression, a very sentimental emotion he held for it in the moment. Still, very ironic for fate to do this to him. "Keep it."

A moment of silence came across the both of them, it was like the air that Kuni was talking about was now polluted with the same feelings he did about leaving. Which disappointed him, it was almost like he was never going to stop remembering things again.

Until you approached Kuni with a swift movement that turned into you encompassing him in a hug. The sudden hug caught him off guard, stiffening in initial reaction. It was something he didn't usually get too comfortable with in the first place, but something was different about this one. Something definitely more relieving.

"You could have just been honest from the start." You said, exhaustion finally meeting you halfway.

The more he stood there, enveloped in your warmth, the weight that was always on his shoulders loosened him. And time suspended itself momentarily, allowing him to feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat sound off with his. Except his could have very well been faster than yours in that moment.

He allowed himself to lean into you after a while, to bask in your presence, and to feel the comfort that he wish he had a long time ago. "I know." He whispered, a guilty solace in his voice.

previous ♡ masterlist ♡ next

YOU ARE on your way to being one of the hottest streamer in your nation at the moment, racking a monthly average of 10 million viewers, but something specific bothers you about it. you know that a lot of people hate you, but there's this one account. one account that's been following you since the early days of your career. they leave a flood of rude comments in your stream, your moderators banned each account they made, but they keep making more. you are at the end of your tether. but you are yet to find out that this persistent cockroach is none other than your friend's friend (and the only other streamer that's bigger than you), scaramouche.

taglist ♡ @thystarsshine @veekoko @gumickajolli @simonisferal @kamiboo

@justpeachyteastea @feiherp @pinkismyfavcolor @aether-darling @kunisnaomi

@keiiqq @mine-lu @featuredtofu @danhenglovebot @k4zushi

@kyon-cherri @b4tm4nn @iiinaurate @quacking-simp @auroratumbles

@kookiibun @ulquiorraswife @amvpk01 @simplysm1le @h3xi2g0n3

@alatusorrow @scaranthropy @mellowberrie @magica-ren @vernith

@kabukipookie @bananasquash @suqarlaced @dellalyra @lightyagamifan

@yourfavoritefreakyhan @heartsforseo @yomishen @pwushizz @swivy123

@strxwberryfetish @ibyobi @ashfrommars4 @chemiru @ainnofinway

@agaygothicmushroom @levianamor @dragontammerz @wth121 @lylovw

@morgyyyyyyy @lovemari @suniika @littlesliceofcheese @yumejo89

@liuaneee @franaby @tiddieshakeshownu @mimi3lover @kavineyah

@kittywagun (bold users means i'm having trouble tagging you)

[tsukkisdinocollection]

Atsumu fluff au where its enemies to lovers ✌💗🤟💗🤟💗🤟 -ur cousin

Not Another Song About Love

⭑Pairing : Atsumu Miya x Reader (Romantic)

⭑ Content Warning(s): Reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, reader is implied to have her hair down, swearing, not proofread

⭑ Word Count : 1k+

⭑ Synopsis : In a "playful" argument with your mortal enemy, he ends up confesses his hidden feelings about you.

⭑ Author's Note : thanks for the request girlie 😜 i'm so uncreative that i keep titling my fics with song names whoops

also shit's lowkey ass i can't write pathetic losers like him for my life but i like 'tsumu

God, you hated him so much.

His stupid dark brown undercut, his stupid droopy eyes, that stupid smug grin on his face–

So how did you end up falling in love with him?

Your “enemyship” – as you called it – started when you two met in 4th grade, and he ended up pushing you off the swing because he wanted to go on the swings with his twin brother. You ended up pushing him off back, and the rest is history.

Honestly, you would have forgiven literally anybody else if they did the same thing when you were younger. But something about his annoying face made you want to punch him. Seems like he had the same thoughts, as he played along with your insults and retorts. After being in the same junior high, you had thought that things would change for the better when you enrolled into Inarizaki.

Boy, were you sorely mistaken.

Because as you locked eyes with the same boy, the same boy who you wished to cut all his hair in his sleep with scissors – your heart dropped. He was too, at least you think he was, because he widened his eyes slightly as he looked at his twin brother and back at you. Then, that stupid smirk on his face that he always had returned.

“I didn’t know you were smart enough to get into this school,” he chuckled. His brother leaned forward to take a look at you, sizing you up before sighing.

“I could say the same thing,” you frowned, folding your arms over your chest.

Atsumu let out a giggle, before stretching his arms. “Well, I have to go to class, dearie,” he mocked. “I’ll see you later.”

You rolled your eyes as he walked off with his brother, fists clenching as your hands returned to your sides.

But that was your first year. Now, you two were in your second year, and it was time for you to…turn a new leaf, perhaps. You were going to apologize to Atsumu for starting an immature “enemyship”, only to end up in another argument with him. Serious or not, you couldn’t tell. You both were just saying what was on your mind – and unfortunately causing a scene in front of the rest of his team.

You don’t even know how this happened. At first, you wanted to apologize, but then you ended up like this.

“Maybe I would’ve confessed to you if you didn’t have such a bitchy personality–” he started, eyebrows furrowing. After he spoke, he widened his eyes, slapping a hand over his mouth.

You were about to come up with a smart response when you processed his words.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Shut up!”

One of his teammates seemed to be recording the conversation on his phone shamelessly. You don’t know any of his teammates’ names except for Osamu, but honestly, you couldn’t really care less at that moment. Yet from the corner of your eye, you saw him smirk ever so slightly as he held his phone up.

You blinked, taken aback for a moment before bursting into laughter. Atsumu whipped his head around the room, the tips of his ears turning red like his cheeks.

“Stop laughing!” he whined, prideful composure lost. He didn’t even remember that half his teammates were watching, and one was recording.

Yet you didn’t stop, continuing to laugh like he had just said the funniest joke in the world. Well, in your eyes, he did.

“No way you’re serious!” you said in between laughs.

As you calmed down, you looked at Atsumu, smile faltering as you noticed how he blushed profusely, and crescent marks began to form on his palms from how tightly he clenched his fists.

“Oh.”

You mumbled, expression falling. You froze in place, face blank.

“Agh!” the blonde cried out. “You’re so mean!”

He suddenly stormed out of the gym, rendering both you and his teammates speechless. In a panic, you ran after him, slamming the gym doors shut.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” one of his teammates asked, leaning closer to Osamu as he whispered in his ear. Osamu shrugged in response.

“He’s been in denial about his feelings towards her for years.”

His teammate only nodded. “You should go after him.”

“Nah. They’ll get through whatever that was themselves.”

As Atsumu ran out the gym, you chased after him, hand reaching out to grab the collar of his jacket and pull him back. Luckily, you managed to grab ahold of his collar, dragging him back and nearly bumping into him in the process. He yelped.

“Hey, what’re you doing!”

He crossed his arms, looking away from you like a child. You sighed softly.

“Do you really like me, ‘Tsumu?”

“I don’t allow you to call me that–”

“Shut up.”

You huffed, leaning in closer to him. Somehow, he turned a brighter shade of red, his complexion similar to a tomato.

“Don’t get so close to me,” he pouted. You fought the urge to roll your eyes at his antics.

“Well? Is it true?”

“Obviously.”

An awkward silence fell upon you two after he spoke. You didn’t know what to say. To be honest, now that his true feelings were revealed, you began thinking about the times you felt your cheeks warm up whenever he came up with some cheesy term of endearment to refer to you as. You knew he didn’t really mean them, but it still caused your heart to feel fuzzy. In a good way, of course. Or, when you couldn’t help attending his matches, using the excuse of “wanting to see his downfall”.

“Hm…I guess I like you too,” you shrugged. His eyes suddenly sparkled as his pout was replaced with a large grin.

“Really!?”

“Maybe.”

He leaped out of your grasp, pulling you closer to embrace him. Your head subconsciously nuzzled against the crook of his shoulder, a sigh escaping your lips as he smiled brightly.

“Soooo,” he began. “Are we enemies still?”

“If you wanna be,” you replied.

“...nah,” he stroked your hair softly, fingers combing through your locks.

“I think I’d like to call you my girlfriend, though.”

[malwaredykes]

the untapped Enemy Of The State Potential is one of boones best funniest traits tbh like ok since im in charge of Awesome Flawless FNV Remake Available Exclusively On My Beautiful Mind im rewriting boones personal #journey arc primarily by expanding on it because i mean yeah fatalistic thinking and the question of agency vs authority and having to live with having done something inexcusable and The Denying Of Closure are good themes but to me theyre not enough here. that lack of closure about something that really intrinsically can never entertain the idea of closure is all well and good, but... lets keep going lets put a pin in that. lets turn once again to boones potential for becoming wanted by the ncr government. boone i know you want to go apeshit. its time to admit that its always been about the system youd been conditioned into never questioning and which you continued to mentally cling to as you felt there was no other purpose or direction to your existence in the wake of all the disastrous events in your life. but its time to develop a grasp on your agency as a human being boone. and yes some of that is going to make you feel worse because, Well. The Complicity. bitter springs. but you know what, it is also freeing and the right thing to do. release your inhibitions feel the rain on your skin. youre already there just look around you. youve cut the ropes that held you back, now its time to rip and shred the ropes that still are wrapped around you. its there. youve physically gotten out. and its time to evolve. "now if iiiiii were to assassinate the president 🤔" i know you want to. im not saying you should but i know youve thought about it before. "guess that settler was well-connected" yes isnt that fucked up i know you think thats fucked up. and oh your friend the courier just did something fucked up at mccarran and all these ncr soldiers and staff are trying to shoot them? of course its the courier youre defending when faced with the immediate choice i mean if its between "fuck the ncr. die" and "fuck the person im ride or die for because theyre a force of destiny that entered my life to change it one way or another and now i care about them deeply. die" well of course youre choosing the path of Leave My FACKING FRIEND Alone You Beasts. but of course the situation doesnt have to be this immediately dire. it doesnt have to stem from an immediate danger to your new object of loyalty. we dont have to let it go down this particular route. no need to have something this drastic happen. you can reach this conclusion simply by giving into the desire youve repressed for years to go apeshit at the ncr government and every arm of its hegemony. that bubbling rage? that "if i let this fester inside me im gonna do a fucking murder-suicide about it"? that in a certain timeline you do in fact end up doing a murder-suicide about? thats not just hateful desperation. thats a feeling, hitherto bottled up and unrefined and volatile, that you should allow to breathe and photosynthesize and grow into something beautiful and true and let it blossom and bear fruit. boone, there is no need to feel alone and helpless and directionless in your unfulfilled desire to cut the umbilical cord.

so. enough rationalizing things as rotten spots and necessary burdens in an otherwise inevitable righteous system, you knowwwww thats pure bullshit. my advice, do some reading. reading is fundamental, and luckily for you, you literally know a very literate anarcho-communist. i can guarantee you that you could walk up to arcade and be like "👉👈 hi gannon soooo i want to get into critiques of capitalism and of the military, and into anarchism and other leftist theory. i want to know about Other Ways to run things. could you give me some recommendations? for books and essays and so on. thanks" and he would be like "boone, yes. Absolutely. yes. i will prepare a reading list for you. gosh." and youll be given a stack of books, with notes and a directory. however, if you two are currently on really bad terms to the point where he doesnt wanna talk to you at all, hey, theres other followers of the apocalypse that would be happy to help. providing education is literally one of their main things. either way, youll finally feel vindicated about things that used to make you feel like you were just going insane. boone you werent going insane you were in fact being onto something. baby that time you saw an ncr military police on the strip facing away from you and there was a loose brick on the ground and it was calling to you like the green goblin mask? that time you were at camp forlorn hope and folks kept saying shit like "that red beret is looking good soldier" and you didnt respond or even look at them because you were focused on containing the urge to grab them by the shoulders and start shrieking? well you see those are actually instincts that tell us you have potential. you have the power to end these patterns. you want to. you need to. thats where you should go. theres a world of ideas waiting for you to tap into and be liberated by. you have nothing to lose but your pitiful pension (you can even keep the beret like who cares). there is so much you can do. its not about allegiance or moral debt or soothing personal guilt, its about doing the right thing. there are so many paths in front of you. also youre trans. like, that one also isnt just you going insane, its real and its right and its you, you are transgender

[mrs-gauche]

I think it's interesting how on the new official cover, the characters and darkspawn are all placed within the outline of the dragon's wings, which is reminiscent of the vinyl artwork with the blighted Black City and how in this one, the heads of the elven pantheon were also "merged" with the wings of the blighted dragon!

And on top of that, as people have already pointed out, the fact that we have seven companions now, matching with the number of elven gods that were imprisoned by Solas, is a little suspicious as well. 👀

Then there's also the seven statues seen at the ritual site in the gameplay showcase and at the end of the reveal trailer. And as we know now, these statues were an essential part of the ritual itself!

And speaking of the ritual, the Game Informer article told us that Solas had planned to "move" the elven gods to a new prison, as the old one was failing. With the concept art(?) that was revealed along with the Game Informer article, we now have three different depictions of Solas' ritual...

(Btw, I will forever be sour that they got rid of the cape! 😂 Also, either Solas went from being right handed to left handed to right handed again OR the concept art image is mirrored, I guess? lol)

What stands out to me is how the concept art shows this huge rocky structure.. object (how would you describe this? 😂) right above this magical "sphere" that is obviously not there in the gameplay showcase (though note that there *are* some floating rocks seen above the statues in the reveal trailer!). And it's interesting how, in the cinematic version, it looks more like the Veil is "shattered", revealing a bright sphere in its center, where it previously showed another sphere right above the Golden City? 👀

And speaking of the Golden/Black City... we also have this sequence at the end of the reveal trailer, showing a massive battle against a horde of darkspawn(?) and a ginormous dragon (that doesn't seem to be the one on the vinyl cover?), in a location that has similar architecture as the Golden City depicted on the vinyl cover, as well as the eclipse in the background of course!

Which is so baffling to me, because I would've assumed that the Black City would be, like, some climactic moment/reveal/endgame stuff, and I doubt they would show something like this if it was in fact part of the final boss battle of the game or something, right?? 😂 Like, why would they spoil the friggin Black City in the reveal trailer? o_O (Then again, they kinda already revealed the look of the Black City on the vinyl cover, too? 😂)

Anyway. 😂 Let us go back to the cover art again, because I've seen a lot of people talk about the shape of the wings in particular!

Like, I've even seen people compare the shape of the wings here to a spider? 😂 To me, it kinda looks more like the wings could also resemble those of a corvid (as in the "rook" bird) that could just as well belong to Rook here with the way this is composed (like, the wings could belong to either Rook or the dragon)?

And in the background, behind the dragon, I can see a hint of the "tambourine"/circle image we've seen since the 2018 teaser.

And maybe it's just my eyes playing tricks on me, but I can also kinda see how the bright light in the background has a similar outline to the Veilguard symbol?

And the shape of the Veilguard symbol looks to me like a mix of a dragon/wolf and a bird's head or simply "V" for Veilguard, on top of resembling ancient statues of Mythal (reminder that Solas has "absorbed" some part of Mythal now and that the Dread Wolf in Tevinter Nights was described to be "the size of a high dragon with shaggy spiked hide")! 👀👀👀

And btw, who else is kinda going a little bit crazy over the fact that Rook's mask/helmet thingy looks an awful lot like Mythal's mask as well???

The funniest thing though, was probably seeing people compare this symbol to the Batman logo?? 😂

Which is especially hilarious to me, given that the last chapter of Tevinter Nights was entirely inspired by an old episode of the animated Batman series from 1992 (specifically, season 1 episode 35) in which Batman does pretty much the same thing as Solas in that chapter. lol There's also the "The Dread Wolf Rises"/"The Dark Knight Rises" and is it just me or has Trick Weekes made a ton of Batman references on Bluesky lately? 😂

Anyway, that's all I've got for now, what do you guys think?? :D

[piratekane]

one month.

If Ava wanted to count the number of things she knows about Bea, she’d run out of fingers and toes in the time it takes her to blink. She’d need a piece of paper like the one Bea writes their grocery lists on, except… a hundred of them taped together until it goes from their front door, down the three flights of stairs, and out of the building to the sidewalk.

That’s how much she knows about Beatrice.

But she learns something new every day, adds another line to the list, and today’s thing is: Bea has the funniest sneeze.

Ava isn’t sure what she expected. People sneeze all the time. And some of them are loud - like Michael, in her lit seminar - or quiet or nasally. Some of them are dignified and some of them explode, legs and arms akimbo. She just learned that word. She likes the way it feels in her mouth.

Bea sneezes like clinking a spoon against fine china, dainty as a mouse and barely a squeak. The first time Ava hears it, two rooms and one door between them, she thinks there is a mouse in the apartment. And she thinks it’s her fault. She brought home a sandwich the night before and it occurred to her somewhere around two in the morning that she hadn’t put it back in the refrigerator before she went to bed. 

She hadn’t actually gotten out of bed to check, but she felt bad about it when she woke up in the morning.

But she hears a slight squeak and thinks mouse and goes running out of her bedroom with the dustpan she took from the kitchen two nights ago high in her hand, ready to strike.

Bea looks up from where she’s pouring hot water into a mug and just as she’s about to ask something, she squeaks.

Ava frowns.

“I’m-” Bea turns away, sneezing three more times into her arm, her whole body spasming. 

Ava jumps a little with each one, her arm slowly falling to her side as she realizes that there isn’t a mouse. It’s just Bea sneezing like a family of them have moved into the kitchen and declared themselves its rightful owners.

Bea straightens up, cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry,” she says, managing to get it out this time. 

“You’re sick.”

“Merely a-” She squeaks, four this time. From the pocket of her sweater, the one Ava wants to borrow because she’s sure she could curl up in it and disappear for a few days, she pulls a tissue. She blots at her nose. “It’s just a few sneezes.”

Ava frowns. “Are you sure? Are you hot?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, striding forward and pressing the back of her hand to Bea’s forehead. 

She can remember the way Sister Frances’ clammy hands felt against her hot forehead, and she tries to be gentler, keeping her touch light. 

“No fever.”

The corner of Bea’s mouth crinkle and she reaches up, turns Ava’s hand over until the inside of her wrist is against Bea’s forehead. “This is how you check for a fever.”

Ava holds still, letting the thin skin of her wrist settle against Bea’s flushed skin. It’s hot, almost incendiary. She frowns.

“Okay, yes fever. Why’re you out of bed? How long have you had a fever? When were you going to tell me you were sick?” She asks her questions in rapid fire, both hands curled around Bea’s shoulders now, holding her at arm’s length. 

“Ava,” Bea says kindly. Her hands, palms also hot, curl around Ava’s forearms. Ava realizes she’s practically shaking Bea. “I only came to get some tea.”

She squints, a frown on her face. “You weren’t even going to tell me you were sick?”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d-” Bea stops herself, but Ava knows the end of the sentence. She can feel it between them. Her frown deepens and a thin string around her heart tightens a little. Bea clears her throat. “I was just going to slip back into my room.”

“And not even tell me you were sick,” Ava confirms. She sighs, heavy and put upon. “You have to tell me these things, you know.”

“I do?” Bea asks. Ava thinks she hears a hint of amusement. “I didn’t realize.”

“Of course you do! We’re roommates. I take care of you, you take care of me.” She shuffles Bea over towards the refrigerator, away from the counter. She picks up where Bea left off, pouring water into the mug Bea pulled down, and gracelessly dunking a tea bag into it. “You like honey, right?”

Bea is quiet long enough that Ava turns, confused. Finally, she says, “I’m sorry.”

Confusion clears. Ava smiles. “I know we’re new at living together, but these are the things I need to know. Anything you told your last roommate, you can tell me.”

“I didn’t,” Bea says.

Ava dunks the tea bag again, watching the leaves change the color of the water. She stops when some hot water waves up over the lip of the mug. Without thinking, she uses the pad of her finger to wipe it up before it runs down the whole side of it. The mug is boiling. She hisses quietly, hoping Bea doesn’t hear it, and then grabs the honey.

“You don’t need to apologize again.” Ava mixes the honey into the tea, careful this time.

“I mean, I didn’t tell my roommate.” Bea shifts when Ava turns to look back at her. “We weren’t— Our relationship was not like that.”

Ava blows on Bea’s tea and watches the surface of it ripple. “So she didn’t make you tea.”

Bea’s face ripples on its own, amusement in her mouth. “I don’t know that she knew her way around a tea bag.”

“So you had to suffer on your own.” Ava sticks out her tongue. “Boo.” 

She sobers slightly. She’s almost about to ask what Bea’s parents were like. Did they tuck her into bed? Did they make her tea with fancy leaves and organic honey collected by their on-property bee keepers? Did they stay home from work and lay in bed with her reading her stories until she fell asleep?

Did she get all the things Ava wished she could have?

And then she remembers: No. Bea didn’t have those things. She didn’t have warm hands tucking her into bed and smoothing hair back off her face while they checked for a fever. She didn’t have cups of steaming tea waiting for her on her bedside table. She didn’t have parents who climbed into bed with her to read her The Velveteen Rabbit or any of the other books Bea admitted she loved to read as a kid.

Her concern washes away in a fit of anger. If she ever meets Bea’s parents, she’ll give them a piece of her mind. She’ll tell them, look at who Bea has become! You had nothing to do with how great she is! She’d probably be escorted away by whatever private security they inevitably have - which Bea will neither confirm nor deny - but it’ll be worth it. It would be worth being carted off to the underbelly of some cavernous house and kept in a cellar with wine bottles, just to take one of Bea’s student-published works on postmodern theology and atheism and shove it in their faces.

It’ll do nothing to get the image of Bea, eyes glassy and whole body tucked into the corner of the couch as it unraveled with her story, out of her mind. She’ll think about it for a long time. How small Bea had been before she started talking about all the things she had done in their absence - the aikido tournaments she dominated, the scholarships she secured - before her eyes sharpened and her voice grew stronger. She did it without them.

Ava hasn’t known Bea as long as she wishes she did, but what she does know is that Beatrice is one of the strongest people she’s ever met. The fact that they even met is fate. Serendipity, she’s told Bea.

“Well,” she says, clearing the thoughts from her mind. “You’ve got me now. And I’ve read up on this, watched a lot of movies. I know exactly what to do.”

Bea looks a little wary. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” Ava carefully walks around Bea, heading towards the couch. “Come on. I’ve got things to do.”

Bea sneezes again, three times in rapid succession. Ava smiles to herself. She’s sure if she asked, Bea would say she hates the way she sneezes. It breaks some of the strong and stern facade Bea puts on with people who aren’t her or Mary and Shannon or Lilith or Camila. It puts a crack in the armor.

And it’s adorable.

She sets down the mug and looks pointedly at the couch when Bea hovers behind her. When Bea doesn’t get the hint, Ava points at her, then down at the couch. There’s a moment where Bea looks like she might protest, but Ava lifts an eyebrow and she closes her mouth and sits down.

Ava grins. She grabs the blanket on the back of the couch. “Now, get ready. Because I’m known for my tucking-in skills.”

“You are?”

“Well, no,” she admits. “But consider this my audition to be.” 

She doesn’t wait for Bea to do anything, just eases her back against the couch cushion and drapes the blanket over her. She uses quick and careful hands - she knows how Bea is about touching and she’s sure it’s even more important to her when she’s sick and her body isn’t cooperating. The blanket goes tightly around her legs and a little looser around her hips before they tighten at her shoulders again.

Ava steps back, admiring her handiwork with a smile.

Bea looks down, mouth disappearing under the blanket with it so close to her chin. “How do you expect me to move?” she asks slowly.

Ava frowns. She hadn’t considered that. “Uh.” She pulls her lips in and loosens the blanket around Bea’s shoulders. “How about this?”

Bea frees her arms and nods. “This is much better.” She must see the way Ava knows her face drops because she immediately reaches forward and grabs for Ava’s hand, squeezing it. “You did a very good job.”

She brightens at that. “You think so?”

“Very much so.” Bea leans forward a little and picks up her mug, having no such problem with the heat radiating off it. “If my last roommate had tucked me in, they wouldn’t hold a candle to you.”

A ripple of pride goes through her. She shimmies her shoulders a little with the news. But then she sets her sights on her next task. She thinks they have a can of soup here. But would Bea eat it? Or should she get something healthier than canned soup? She could try and make some…

She picks the television. First order of business is putting on something good to watch. She maneuvers the clicker with one hand, the other still in Bea’s, and flips through Bea’s Netflix account until she finds the documentary section. She picks one of the nature ones at random - there’s nothing quite like cuddly animals.

For a second, she panics. What if this is one of them that talks about the life cycle of animals and she has to watch a hyena eat a zebra? She hasn’t recovered from seeing a lion attack a baby rhino. And Bea wouldn’t like that. Not when she doesn’t feel well and she just wants something fun and-

A hand tightens around hers. Bea looks at the seat next to her and tips her head. “Do you want to sit with me?”

She didn’t know she was waiting for the question. She drops down onto the couch so hard that she bounces a little and Bea slides almost imperceptibly closer to her. For a second, she thinks Bea will bring her hand back into her own lap or tuck it under the blanket. But Bea’s hand just shifts, holding loosely onto hers. Ava wiggles down until her head can drop against Bea’s shoulder. She feels her breathe in deeply and lets her own breath mirror it.

She loves this. She loves Bea. She loves this whole thing they’re creating. 

She loves waking up in the morning to the cereal box on the counter. She loves mid-afternoon study sessions stretched across their living room. She loves coming home after a long day of classes where her back is killing her and Bea is already waiting with a heat patch and a smile. She’s never had a best friend before, never had someone who seems to know her so well. She didn’t think it was possible; they’ve known each other for only a little while now, but she’s sure there isn’t a person in the world who knows as much about her as Bea does.

If she woke up tomorrow and it was all gone - her freedom, this apartment, her scholarship, the Chinese restaurant where they always throw in an extra crab rangoon - the only thing she’d crawl through hell and back for is Beatrice. 

Bea is her best friend in the whole world, and Ava loves her.

An antelope crosses the screen, a lion stalking behind it. Ava groans, turning so that the point of Bea’s warm shoulder is pressed between her eyes. “Tell me if that antelope gets eaten, okay?”

She feels Bea laugh more than she hears it. “Okay, Ava.”

“Then I’ll make you soup,” she says into Bea’s soft cotton shirt. “Or get someone to deliver it.”

“We’re not paying the delivery fee,” Bea says quickly. She’s quiet for a second. “But soup sounds nice.”

Ava grins and squeezes Bea’s hand gently. “You’ll see. I’ll take really good care of you.”

She nearly misses the soft “thank you” but she holds onto it long after Bea has fallen asleep, head tipped back against the couch, skin clammy as she comes down from her fever. Bea never has to thank her for anything; Ava would do anything for her.

She’ll make Bea understand that eventually.

~

two months.

She’s never seen Bea like this. It’s like some kind of Tasmanian devil was let loose in their apartment - the one from the cartoon, which is the messier but less scary version. There’s paper everywhere, large stacks on the breakfast bar and some of them taped to the walls of the living room. The coffee table is buried under a mountain of books, some with titles in foreign languages. The couch has more books, all open and spread out with small markers on the pages.

Beatrice sits in the middle of it all, on the floor, her head in her hands.

Ava lets her backpack fall silently at her feet. She carefully tucks it against the wall near the shoe rack and toes off her shoes, putting them away without needing to be reminded of where or how. She doesn’t think Bea would appreciate it right now.

“Hey, Bea,” she says cautiously.

Bea’s head snaps up. Some of her hair has slipped free from her bun, hanging down and angling her face. Her eyes look a little wild, like she’s having trouble identifying the source of the sound. She finally blinks and they clear as she takes in Ava.

Ava puts on a smile. “Hey. I’m home.”

“You’re-” Bea looks at her watch - one of the ones with the numbers on it that Ava can’t read. She frowns, deep lines running across her forehead. “It’s already three.”

“Yeah. My bio lab ran a little late.” She grimaces. They’ve been testing water samples this week and Ava is struggling. She almost didn’t go to class this morning, but she can’t saddle JC with all their work. Even if she did keep them afloat during the cell respiration lab.

Things haven’t been weird since their disastrous attempt at a date a week ago. In fact, JC has been really cool. He understood they were going to do better off as friends. She hadn’t said anything, but she knew he could tell her heart wasn’t in it. If he knew why her heart wasn’t in it, maybe he'd feel differently. But probably not. JC is one of the nicest guys she’s ever met. And when she left, a coffee in hand, she hugged him gratefully, promised things wouldn’t be weird, and ran home to the person she actually wanted to be with.

If she lets herself think too hard about it, she’s almost sure JC does know. Maybe it’s because when she got to their next class and slid into the stool next to him, passing him a donut, he asked how Bea was doing. Maybe it’s because he clapped her on the shoulder at the end of class and told her to tell Bea he said hello.

She didn’t do that. But it was nice of him to say so.

“I didn’t realize the time…” 

Ava looks around. Their apartment did not look like this when she left at eight for the start of her long day of classes. It was very much normal and not so much A Beautiful Mind a few hours ago. She takes a careful step forward, curling her hands around the back of the couch. She weighs her options.

“So, what’s up, Doc?” She smiles encouragingly when Bea blinks at her. “You’ve got… quite the setup going here.”

Bea looks around, cheeks staining as she takes in the room. She seems to be seeing the whole picture for the first time. “Oh.” She immediately grabs an open book, stuffing a handful of paper into it and snapping it close. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was-”

“No,” Ava says quickly. She rounds the couch, grabbing the book from Bea and opening it again. She carefully puts it back where it was, smoothing out the now-crinkled paper that was pressed between its pages. “You don’t have to do that. Don’t mess things up.”

“I have a system. I can easily return things to where they go.”

Ava doubts that, but she smiles. “Sure. I’m just saying, you don’t have to throw your things out of whack because I’m back. It’s… a lot to have to pick up.” She scans the page she’s holding in her hand. Notes on The Sacred and the Profane. She hands it to Bea. “Big test coming up?”

Bea takes it carefully, smoothing it out and placing back on what seems to be an endless pile of notes. “Paper. My first draft is due tomorrow by the start of my 8am. I thought I had enough sources, but I reread the original prompt and it’s asking for three more than I originally selected.” There’s a strain of mania in her voice. “I couldn’t decide on what text to use, and now I am much further behind than I wanted to be.”

Ava sinks down to her knees next to Bea. She hesitates for a second before she takes her hand and squeezes it tightly. Not because she doesn’t want to touch Bea, because she always wants to be touching Bea. But because Bea seems like a crystalline figure right now and Ava has always been clumsy.

“How long have you been doing this?”

“A few hours, I suppose.” Bea looks around. Her shoulders sag. “I pulled what I could from the library, but I did not have much time to gather all the things I needed.”

“This is not enough?” Ava whistles, low. “I’d hate to see what you think is.” She soothes the words with a thumb over the back of Bea’s hand. “Have you eaten yet today?”

Bea’s eyes linger on their hands long enough that Ava thinks about letting go. She doesn’t want to make Bea uncomfortable. Just as she thinks about pulling her hands back into her own lap, Bea nods. “I had breakfast.”

“Okay, let me be more specific. Have you eaten anything since 6:30 this morning?”

The blush on Bea’s cheeks deepen.

“I’m going to take that as a no.” Ava sits back on her heels and groans a little at the way her back muscles pull. Bea immediately opens her mouth, but Ava shakes her head. “I’m fine. I just need a second and then I’m going to make you something to eat.”

Bea’s concern fades to wariness. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Let me.” She says it much softer than she means to, but it does the trick. Bea nods and Ava grins. Taking a deep breath, she pushes up onto her feet and carefully walks around Bea’s notes and books. “So, how close are you to being done?”

She thinks she hears a groan. “I’ve selected one additional source, but…” She definitely hears a sigh. “I’m not convinced of the last two.”

Ava opens the refrigerator. Bea makes sure there’s always something in it, something they can throw together and make something out of. She spots the carrots and onion and broccoli. They have a chicken breast they were saving for dinner tonight - Ava was going to try her hand at chicken parmesan, under close supervision - but this seems like a pizza night, so she doesn’t mind using it now. Chicken stir-fry for late lunch it is.

“You can tell me about it?”

She pulls out a cutting board and a knife, washing her hands before she starts chopping up the onion. She follows the steps she remembers Bea teaching her: fingers in, even dicing. She only nicked herself the first time and the blood had been enough to get her to understand she needed to slow down with a knife in her hand.

“It’s okay. But thank you.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Ava watches Bea lift her arms above her head and stretch out. She nearly looks away as a sliver of skin escapes from under Bea’s shirt. But she lingers for a second and then the skin is gone, hidden under the hem of her shirt. Ava misses it already.

She blinks a few times. “If you want to later, you can,” she offers. She moves onto the carrots. Bea taught her the importance of mis en place and having everything ready to go. “I mean, it might not make any sense, but I like to hear you talk.” She grins at the flush on Bea’s face, visible even across the apartment.

She’s not lying. She could listen to Bea talk all day. There’s a soothing quality to her voice, a kind of warm ebbing effect it has over her. That, and she heard once that humans can listen to the sound of the people they love talk for hours.

She thinks that being in love with Beatrice means she could listen even longer.

Papers shuffle behind her as she cuts the broccoli. She glances back over her shoulder, knife hovering above the board. 

Being in love with Beatrice happened slowly, like adding grains of rice to the rice cooker, one piece at a time until the whole thing was full. One day she was thinking, I love this. I love this life. I love Beatrice, and the next she was wondering what it might be like if she could climb into her bed and kiss her slowly.

It wasn’t just lust, either. She’d gone through that period with other people - fresh in the world, she’d been attracted to nearly everyone she saw. But it was never anything of substance. The appeal didn’t last past wondering what kind of kisser they were or what their hands might feel like against her hips. 

With Beatrice, it’s deep. She wants to know what kind of kisser Bea is, what her hands might feel like if they pushed down purposefully against her hips. But she also wants to curl around Bea on the couch and listen to her talk about her day. She wants to go to brunch on the weekends and split a plate of french toast or maybe waffles or maybe both. She wants to know that in a crowded room of people, Bea is going home with her.

She likes the way Bea smiles sleepily over her first cup of tea, the way she brushes Ava’s hair off her face almost absentmindedly, the way she holds open every door, the way she lets Ava press a kiss to her forehead or a kiss to her cheek and doesn’t shy away from her. 

Grains of rice, falling into a cup. Each one of them is one more thing to love.

She hears light footsteps behind her and she smiles, knife slicing through the florets. 

“How were your classes?”

It would be easy to drop into her own day, to tell Bea about Carina and Professor MacKay, or how JC nearly dropped their sample and they had to start all over again, or how the librarian who usually doesn’t care about her iced coffee was out today and she had to chug the whole thing like a beer in the vestibule before the librarian who does care saw her, or how she nearly tripped over her shoelaces between the Quad and Venable but managed to stay upright and avoid falling on her face in front of a tour of fresh-faced hopeful freshmen-to-be. She could dive into that and make it about her, and it would be easy to shift focus.

Bea might appreciate the distraction, actually. But she knows if she starts now, Bea will be too nice to tell her to stop and she’ll be up until the sun rises trying to nail down the rest of this paper.

So she smiles instead and waves one knife-less hand at Bea. “Sit. Tell me about your paper.”

“Ava.”

Ava ignores her sigh, washing her hands again before she takes the chicken out of its package and pats it dry.

“I thought we were having that for dinner.” Bea sounds a little further away, like she’s taking some of Ava’s advice and sitting down. “I bought pasta.”

She cuts the chicken into thin strips, careful of slicing through her hand. It’s smooth, the benefit of Bea’s care and consideration for their kitchen utensils. She took the time to teach Ava, too. Her dream was to be able to juggle knives, but she figured knowing how to cut with them without cutting herself was the place to start.

And Bea wouldn’t teach her that anyway.

“The benefit of dry pasta is that it doesn’t actually expire.”

“It loses some of its quality,” Bea counters.

Ava grins. “Well, it won’t lose any of its quality in 24 hours. We can have it tomorrow.” She washes her hands again and grabs a pan, twisting it neatly in her hand before she sets it down on the stove top. “We’ll get pizza later.”

When she spares a glance back at Bea as she adds oil to the pan, Bea is shaking her head. “It’s already three in the afternoon. We won’t-”

“Benefit of living off a college campus: places deliver late.” She shakes her head playfully when Bea opens her mouth to argue. “Stop arguing with me. You’ll lose. And you need to save all your strength for arguing the hell out of your point in your paper.”

Bea looks amused. “It’s not an argumentative paper.”

“Everything is if you try hard enough.” She leans back against the counter away from the stove, arms crossed over her chest. “But why don’t you tell me about your paper?”

The mention of it has Bea dropping her head into her hands. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“The beginning, preferably. My understanding of theological knowledge is a little limited to nuns, bad.” She doesn’t get the smile she hoped for.

Bea looks up. “I don’t usually miss something like this.” She sounds miserable and Ava’s heart breaks a little. “I’m usually better at paying attention to the fine details.”

“Is this Vegara’s class?” She has Bea’s professors memorized, knows which ones are total dicks - her words - and which ones are excellent contributors to the degree program - Bea’s words. Vegara is, in one of Ava’s words, an asshole.

Bea nods and straightens up, taking another deep breath. “I don’t know how I missed this,” she repeats.

“You’re human. You’re going to mess up every so often.”  

But she can tell it’s bothering Bea. So she searches the refrigerator again and pulls out one of the yuzu seltzer waters that Bea likes, the ones Ava can only find at the grocery store across town - a long, long bus ride. It’s worth it. She knows how much Bea enjoys them. She opens it and puts down in front of Bea with a wide smile.

“Thank you,” Bea says quietly.

She picks up her phone next, going to her Spotify app. She scrolls until she finds the playlist she titled Bea’s Bangers &lt;3 and picks “Honey” by Robyn. She puts it on shuffle and then down in front of Bea in case she wants to execute one of her allotted three song passes.

Bea never uses them unless “Dancing Queen” comes on - a flaw Ava can be convinced to overcome for the right price. She just hasn’t figured out a way to tell Bea it’ll cost her a kiss, at least.

“It’s a shame Vegara is a massive bitch,” Ava continues. The oil starts to sizzle and she picks up the tongs (the ones with little cat paws instead of the usual metal heads that she bought precisely to annoy Lilith) to begin laying chicken slices in the pan. “She’s hot.”

Bea coughs delicately. “No, she isn’t.”

Ava snaps the tongs at Bea. “She is. But she’s also mean. And not, like, hot and mean. Just hot. And mean. Two full sentences.”

Bea blinks at her for a moment before a fond smile stretches across her mouth. She shakes her head gently and leans forward, resting her chin in her hand. Ava grins, satisfied with the way that Bea looks a little lighter, with the way she seems to unwind a little with a small laugh. 

Ava drinks it in. Loose and unraveling, Beatrice is beautiful. Hair falling across her cheeks, the wild in her eyes steadying into something soft and present. Lips curled up in a smile. Ava falls a little more in love with each passing second.

“You’re ridiculous,” Bea mumbles.

“You love me.”

She tries to keep the hope out of her voice, tries to quell the question. She must, because Bea is still smiling, still gazing at her with that same look on her face Ava prays she gets to see every day for the rest of her life. Bea sips her seltzer water, and Ava pushes around chicken in a pan, and they stand with a breakfast bar between them and just this one secret that Ava can never tell.

“I find you to be an agreeable roommate,” Bea finally says, lips turned up around the truth.

Ava points the tongs at her, ignoring the droplet of oil that splashes on the floor. Bea doesn’t ignore it, eyes following it and flicking back up to Ava.

“I’m way better than an ‘agreeable roommate’,” she argues as she grabs a paper towel and cleans up the spot. “What’s her name was an ‘agreeable’ roommate. I’m God-tier.”

“Her name is Gina,” Bea says lightly.

“Gina bo beana,” Ava dismisses. “Would she make you chicken stir fry and tell you your professor sucks ass?”

Bea’s face softens. “No, she wouldn’t.” She smiles, a little lopsided. “But you knew that.”

“Of course I knew that.” Ava turns the chicken over, eyes darting to Bea between pieces. “But I like to hear you say it.”

She likes knowing she’s doing a better job taking care of Bea. She likes knowing that she’s the one who puts Bea first - something everyone in her life should have been doing since day one, Ava thinks. She likes knowing her love can make her into the kind of person who values someone else over her own self. 

“How much longer do you think I’ll have to say it for?” Bea sounds curious, but entertained.

Ava shrugs. “What are you doing for the rest of your life?”

Bea stares at her for a second longer before she shrugs, so uncharacteristically of her. “I don’t believe I know the answer to that.”

Ava pulls her own seltzer water out of the refrigerator and cracks open the can, listening to the carbonation fizzle. “Well, I guess I’m stuck here until you figure it out.” 

“I suppose I’ll have to live with that.” Bea finally looks away, eyes straying over Ava’s shoulder to the stove top. “I’m not sure you’d leave even if I begged you to.”

No, she almost exhales. I’m staying with you forever. Where you go, I go. That’s what she told Bea once, not so long ago. My people will be your people. I’ll die buried next to you.

It’s too dramatic to say out loud. Even worse because she’s never actually told Bea about these feelings. She’s too fast sometimes, moving too quickly. She doesn’t slow down when she needs to. But this is more than wishing she could speed up time to get a free coffee for her birthday. This is more than wanting an exam to be over.

She wants to slow down and fall in love with Bea unhurriedly. Lazily, even. 

She blinks. “No, I don’t think I would. What did Mary call me? An ankle weight?” She grins. “It’s nicer than what Lilith calls me, at least.”

Bea meets her eyes again. “Lilith says it from a place of love.”

Ava adds the vegetables. “Oh, I know. Imagine what she would say if she hated me?” she asks gleefully. “Now, let me tell you about the time I saw Vegara eat it on the stairs near the science building. Did I tell you I think she’s hooking up with Professor Sakeen, from the business department?”

Bea laughs. “No, Ava. That’s not true.”

“But imagine what we could do if we made people think they were?” Ava laughs when Bea shakes her head and opens her mouth to argue.

Ava doesn’t hear a word she says, but she memorizes the way her eyes light up and the press of her lips when she scolds Ava and the sharp, precision-like movements of her hands as she illustrates a point. She thinks, I love you, I love you, I’m in love with you.

Grains of rice, in an endless cup.

~

three months.

She’s going to kill them.

“I’m going to kill them.” 

Ava thinks for another second, but nothing is going to change her mind. She stomps her foot a little, barely a thud against the carpet, and she crosses her arms over her chest, eyes narrowed and teeth bared.

Bea sighs. “Ava.” 

She’s sitting on the couch, stick-straight with her hands curled primly over her knees. To anyone else, she looks like Bea - just a little more upright, a little more held together. 

But to Ava - who knows every micro-expression on her face, who has memorized the way her eyes cut to one side before she’s about to give up a half-truth, who has studied the curl of Bea’s hands around coffee mugs and television remotes and her own hand - she knows better. Because she can see how thin Bea’s lips are, how the skin around her knuckles is as white as the bed sheets Ava knows are under the thick navy blue comforter of Bea’s bed.

“No.” Ava starts pacing again, picking up where she left off a moment ago. She might just wear a hole in the carpet, her steps feel like fire. “Don’t Ava me right now.” She grinds her teeth together, flexes her fingers and closes them into fists, scowling at an invisible monster ahead of her.

“Who do they think they are?” she asks, the same question she’s asked five times in the last five minutes. “They call, what did you say? Once a calendar year? To ‘catch up’ and just-” She huffs and jabs a finger at no one. “First, I’m going to count up the number of times they said lifestyle choice and multiply that by the number of fingers I have.” She starts counting on those same fingers.

“After I do that, I’m going to add that to each time your mother sniffed like she was catching a cold from the mere thought of having to ask you if you’re seeing anyone.” She turns sharply on the carpet, socked foot sliding a little. “And once I come up with that number, I’m going to use it as a guide for the number of times I need to punch your father in his stupid mustache - he has one, right? - for even suggesting you’ve had enough time to ‘come to your senses’ about this.” Her voice goes high, vocal chords tightening. “This? This is your life! This is who you are!”

She growls in the hollow of her throat, feeling her face grow hot. “And I’d make it so they never called back. I’d curse them so their sleeves always got wet when they did the dishes. Or that they stubbed their toe every time they walked into a room. You’re their daughter. Not some inconvenient stranger they have to ‘make time’ for. Though,” she scoffs, “they’d probably be more considerate of some stranger who doesn’t know what they look like without their stupid, fake smiles on.”

The high likelihood that they would do that, value someone else over Bea and the sheer injustice of it all, boils her blood and makes her explode. “And another thing!” She rounds on Bea, mouth open in a snarl— then stops mid-rant when she finally sees her.

Bea looks… The line of her spine is threatening to buckle. Her wrists are starting to shake. Ava can see the slight wobble of her bottom lip and the way she’s holding back what Ava knows would be a tidal wave of tears.

Ava’s heart cleaves in her chest at the sight of Bea, two pieces rocketing down into her stomach. 

She isn’t helping. 

As furious as she is right now, it isn’t making things better for Bea; it might even be making it worse. Her anger doesn’t matter right now, not more than what Bea is feeling, and what Ava needs is to ease the sorrow rolling off Bea in waves. 

So she swallows back her fury, quickly forming it into a knot, and crosses the room. Every muscle spasms as she sinks to her knees in front of Bea, wrapping light fingers around her wrists. She can feel her pulse, trembling wildly, under hot fingertips.

“Bea,” she says quietly.

Bea inhales, the sound shaky and loud between their bodies. “I’m fine.”

Ava strokes her thumb over the small bundle of nerves clustered at the base of Bea’s wrist. It echoes back at her. “You don’t have to be.”

“I am.” It’s steadier this time but Ava can still hear the way it trembles. “It doesn’t- It doesn’t ma-”

“It matters.” She knows she’s bordering on too firm, knows she’s being a little too strong. She tightens her grip on Bea’s wrist and holds it steady. “It matters so fucking much, Bea. And I- I’m going to kill them.”

Bea’s smile is watery. “You don’t need to say that.”

“Say it? I mean it.” Ava rocks back on her heels, her whole body tight and locked up. She’d stay cramped forever if it meant she didn’t have to let go of Bea right now. “I don’t think I’ve ever meant anything so much in my whole life.”

“You said that about the man who left the black beans out of your taco last week,” Bea reminds her gently, just a hint of a smile tugging at one corner of her mouth.

Ava pauses. “Well. Okay. Yes. I meant that when I said it. But that was before your shitty, scu-”

“Ava,” Bea says quietly.

She snaps her mouth shut for a moment before she opens it again. “This is more than black beans, Beatrice. This is you. And yeah, I’d kill your parents if you asked me to. No questions, no hesitation. I’d go full John-Wick-loses-his-dog on their asses. You know what? You don’t even have to ask me. I’d do it.”

I’d do anything for you.

Bea carefully turns her wrists until their palms are pressed lifeline to lifeline. Her voice is whisper-quiet when she breathes out, “You don’t mean that.”

Ava inhales sharply. It sounds like a firecracker and Bea flinches away from it. She tightens her grip on Bea’s hand, her hand aching from the pressure. She wants to reach inside Bea and pull out this voice in the back of her mind that’s whispering these things to her. She wants to choke it out right in front of Bea, show her that it has no business speaking, lying to her like that. She wants to twist it until it breaks in her hands, wants to hold up the broken parts and say, Look, Bea. This isn’t the only thing I’d break for you.

“I do mean it,” she says instead.

She needs Bea to understand. She does mean it. She would do it. She wouldn’t hesitate to cut a bitch, a phrase she learned from listening to Mary swindle money away from a guy at the bar who bet he could beat her in a game of pool. Bea’s parents aren’t drunk college boys with too much of their daddy’s money, but they carry the same sense of entitlement that she just knows drips off Bea’s parents.

She inhales, slower this time. “Listen.”

Bea looks up after a moment. Her eyes shimmer slightly. Anger swells in Ava’s stomach and nearly bowls her over. But she swallows past it.

“Do you remember what I said when I first met you?”

Bea’s mouth wrinkles in a frown. “What?”

“When I first met you. What did I say?” She nods encouragingly. Bea stares at her for a moment before she shakes her head. “Okay, you were supposed to say, You said, How’s your chemis-tea? Because, you remember, you were studying your chem notes and I spilled that cup of tea all over your notebook?”

Bea nods slowly.

“And then I would be like, ‘no, Bea, not that. What did I say next?’ And you wouldn’t remember what I did say and I could tell you, I said, You seem like someone I could spend some qualit-tea time with.”

“You didn’t say that,” Bea says slowly.

Ava sighs, exaggerating it. “No. But imagine if I had snuck in two puns for the price of one?” 

Bea’s chest hitches, air caught in her throat. 

Ava sobers slightly. “What I did tell you was that I knew you were important. I could tell by the way everyone around you seemed to be so interested in what you were doing.”

Bea frowns. “No one was watching me.”

“I was.” 

Ava ducks her head to meet Bea’s eyes. “I’ve been watching you for months now, and I haven’t stopped wondering how you could be so…” She exhales slowly. “Amazing.”

If Bea’s eyes were shimmering before, they’re shining now. Tears threaten to spill over and Ava feels each one of them welling in her own chest. She grips Bea’s hands a little tighter, hoping she can absorb them before they fall.

“You’re amazing, Beatrice. And it has nothing to do with them. It’s in spite of them.” She waits until Bea meets her eyes. “You’re good. You’re smart, selfless. Kind. All the things they could never be. They’re shitty people with shitty opinions about who they think you’re supposed to be without knowing who you really are.” She runs a finger over the peaks and valleys of Bea’s knuckles. “And you shouldn’t give them this power. They don’t get to show up when they want to and leave you feeling like this.”

She watches the way Bea takes her words and twists them in mid-air, turning them back on themselves. She shakes her head quickly. “No, you’re not weak for thinking that.”

Bea blinks at her.

Ava smiles crookedly. “Don’t pretend like I don’t know what’s going on in there, Beatrice.” She lets go of one of Bea’s hands, tapping her temple gently. Bea sways under her touch. “I know exactly what you’re thinking. Like right now, you’re thinking, God, Ava, won’t you shut up?” She smiles a little, hoping Bea will too.

The problem is that she does know what’s going on in there. She knows the guilt and the shame and the way they swirl to make up the form of a woman Ava has never met, but would punch in the mouth if she ever got the chance. She sees Bea’s hesitation, knows that Bea wants to believe her. She does. But the number of years her parents have been talking circles around Bea is more than the number of months she’s known Ava. And it’s hard to compete with that.

But Ava does know Bea better.

That’s the thing about loving someone so completely. She knows Bea better than she knows herself. The dime store novels she greedily consumed under the covers at the orphanage and the rom-coms she watched on a small TV in the corner of her dorm room with Chanel - none of them ever talked about how deeply she would know someone else when she was in love with them.

She can tell by a look, by an exhale, by the slight upturn of Bea’s lip, what she’s thinking. Or what she’s feeling. Or what she’s wishing for.

And more than anything, Bea is wishing for someone to love her in spite of what her parents have told her she can never have.

It’s me, she wants to tell Bea. It’s me who loves you. It’s me who wants to make you as happy as you deserve to be. It’s me, it’s me, it’s me. 

That’s the thing about loving someone so completely. 

She knows Bea loves her back.

She knows that for all of the ways she can’t hide what she feels, Bea can’t either. She’s not reading into things, she’s not imagining them. 

For every time Ava is thinking I could kiss her, she knows Bea is thinking I would let her.

Ava lies in bed most nights and wonders what it might be like if she gathered the courage to slip into Bea’s room and slide into her sheets just to hold her while she slept. She wonders what Bea would do. Send her away? Let her under that thick duvet Ava is sure is made up of a cloud? Be stuck somewhere between wanting her closer and pushing her back?

She wonders, but she won’t act on it. Because Bea isn’t ready. Bea is on the edge of something bigger than Ava and she’s not going to push. She’ll just be waiting at the bottom with a safety net for when Bea is ready to jump.

Her literary professor would call this tragic - two people destined to be together who will never be. But her literary professor doesn’t know her; he doesn’t know Beatrice. 

He doesn’t know that they’re going to be together - just not right now.

Not now while Bea takes the time to allow herself to feel what she wants. Not now while Bea is trying to balance who she wants to be versus the person she’s been made to feel like she has to. 

Ava knows about expectations. Even if the ones Sister Frances had were for her to fail so spectacularly God laughed at her, there are days when Ava feels like they’re a lifeline she can hold on to. She knows what it’s like to have poison in her ears, echoing in her mind like a snake hissing. When she’s thinking about her life, she’s always measuring it against what Sister Frances told her she would never be. 

Bea’s parents had higher expectations, unreasonable aspirations for a girl that didn’t exist, but she can tell which nights Bea is beating herself up for not meeting them.

Ava is in love with Beatrice and she’s never been patient with anything, but she can be patient for this.

Because love is patient. And kind, it is not proud. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. 

Beatrice is all of those, does all of those.

How can something like that be wrong?

Bea’s hand tenses in hers and Ava blinks.

“You’re my best friend,” Ava promises. “And I know you, so believe me when I say this. You matter. You deserve to be loved, unconditionally. You deserve to be treated like you’re the most important person in the world, because you are, to me. You’re always going to be the most important person in my life.”

Bea doesn’t meet her eyes. “You can’t say that.”

“Watch me.” She lifts her chin into the air, daring Bea to argue. She knows that she won’t. “I don’t care who you are or who you love. You could tell me you’re running away with that lady at the Registar’s office— who always seems to, honest to god, snarl at me when I ask how her day is going —and I’d throw you a party. If you told me you really did love her.”

She swears she sees a flicker of a smile on Bea’s face. It gives her courage.

“I’m proud of the person you are,” she says quietly. Bea looks down. “There isn’t anything you can do that’ll make me change my mind.”

I’m in love with you. There isn’t anything you can do that’ll change how I feel.

Bea swallows, her jaw clicking with the tension. She turns her hand over in Ava’s, blunt fingernails scratching against her palm. Ava holds her breath, feeling the pressure build in her chest. Just as her lungs start to burn, Bea clears her throat gently.

“That woman’s name is Marjorie.”

Ava lets her smile stretch slowly. “Marjorie, huh?”

Some of the tension breaks. Ava watches it wash over Bea as she takes her first deep breath in minutes. “She has a nameplate, right in front of her desk.”

“I don’t know.” Ava’s entire back has locked into one piece and she’s going to spend the rest of the night dismantling it, but it’s worth it to see the way the stress is leaking out of Bea, flowing off her in waves. “I think you’ve secretly made a plan to run away together.”

“Yes. I was planning on leaving this weekend, actually.”

She lets her fingers dust over Bea’s collarbone as she drops her hand back into Bea’s lap. “I fit in a carry-on suitcase.”

Bea rolls her eyes. “I remember.”

“You dared me that I couldn’t do it.”

“And you ached for days afterwards,” Bea reminds her.

Ava beams. “You were a very good nurse.”

Bea’s cheeks pinken slightly. “You were a terrible patient.”

Ava groans now, sliding back a little until she can use the edge of the couch to push up onto her feet. She inhales sharply. “I’m the best you’re gonna get.”

Bea’s hands go to her forearms, helping her stand upright. “Yes, I believe that’s true,” she murmurs.

Ava stretches her arms above her head, listens to a vertebrate pop a little. “I want sushi.”

“I thought you wanted Mexican?”

She shrugs. “Maybe we can get Mexican and sushi.” She watches the look of disgust wash over Bea’s face, but she still smiles. “You know what would be great, though? Like, really great?”

“Ice cream?”

Ava pauses. “Well, that, too. But no.” She slips her phone out of her pocket, opening up her messages and pulling up their group chat as she ignores the last message from Bea - Parents. “We have a movie night. Wouldn’t you love to bore all of us with the finer details of the historical aspects of Braveheart?”

Bea’s eyes flicker with fear. “I don’t want to-”

“No, no.” Ava quickly grabs onto Bea’s arm, squeezing gently. “They don’t need to know. Not if you don’t want them to. But wouldn’t it be funny to ask Lilith when she started taking makeup tips from Mel Gibson?” That gets a small smile. “Or we can watch the Twilight movies. Lilith went out with that guy who looked just like Jacob a few times last month. We can ask her when she knew she was into werewolves.”

Bea’s eyes lighten. “You just want to pester Lilith.”

“I’m a simple girl with simple needs.” She grins. “We can get stuff for ice cream and just… hang out. You deserve to be around people who love you.”

Bea covers Ava’s hand with her own. Ava can read the look in her eyes, the silent I am. Out loud, she smiles. “Thank you.”

Ava bows clumsily. “Anything for you, Your Highness.” She quickly thumbs out a message. “Now, if you don’t want to watch Twilight - which I’m super serious about, by the way - then you better pick something out before Camila gets here and tries to convince us to finally watch Disturbia.” She shudders. “No thank you. Though, that soundtrack is banging.”

Bea sighs, exasperated and adoring, and squeezes Ava’s hand one time before she drifts away. All the tension is gone - her spine as straight as ever, her eyes bright and sure, her hands steady. She’s back to being Bea. Ava gives herself a mental high-five and then focuses on dinner. Sushi does sound really good.

“Ava?”

“Hmm?” She looks up from her phone, scrolling the pretty pieces of fish.

Bea smiles shyly. “You’re my best friend too.”

I love you.

She smiles just as softly. 

I know it. 

Bea nods, just once, and goes back to tidying away her things, making space for all the food Ava is going to order, justifying it by saying the apartment is going to be packed. Ava smiles, feeling a soft part in her chest squeeze just once, just a small reminder that it’s there.

Love is patient and she can wait. For Bea.

(more forever roommates)

[eastern-lights]

Ok so we all know how amazing Baldur's Gate 3 is. I could talk for hours about everything it did perfectly.

But rn, I want to talk about what I think Dragon Age Inquisition did better. And this is not to judge which game is better overall, but what still makes DAI so special to me despite its flaws.

1. Voiced protagonist

Yeah, starting off controversial. I know some people prefer silent protagonists, but I just find myself wishing we could have a fully voiced Tav, even at the cost of fewer dialogue options. I'm sorry, but Tav's silent indifferent face just always breaks the immersion for me, especially when contrasted with the award-worthy acting and animation of the characters they're speaking with. In DAI (and DA2, although to a lesser degree) your character could be heavily customized, but they were always an actual person who fit in with the rest of the universe and flowed seamlessly with the story.

2. Mystery and dread.

BG3 is full of heavy, scary, traumatizing stuff hidden all over the place (or in plain sight). But it can always be explained in some way. There are dreadful things in Faerûn, but we always know what they are (mostly due to most of them having to have precisely given stats as the result of being based on DnD). We know what happens after death and what we can do to bring people back from it. The closest you get to truly dread-inducing mystery in BG3 is "Do Illithids have souls" and "where do illithids come from" and (at least in Act 1) "who is the Absolute".

In Dragon Age, the whole world is made of existential dread. What happens when you die? Dunno. Is God real? No idea and if He does, He hates you. What is the Blight? Are all darkspawn capable of independent thought? What is lyrium singing about? What happened to the titans? What happens when all of the Old Gods die? And this is just the Big Questions. There's a myriad of small things, small mysteries you encounter that just have no answers. Stuff that reminds me of those creepy Goldshire children forming a pentagram in World of Warcraft. While having an explanation for everything makes for deeper worldbuilding, a world full of mysteries without answers makes for a much scarier and, in some ways, exciting experience.

3. Group dynamic and party banter

I enjoyed the party banter in BG3. Hell, it had some of the funniest lines in game. But it didn't do enough to make the group dynamic feel any less Tav/Durge-centric. You hear the companions exchange banter, but you never get beyond stuff like "Karlach and Shadowheart both enjoy wine" and "Gale enjoys Lae'zel telling him about the Astral plane". The protagonist forms amazingly written relationships with each of the companions, but they never seem to have such a bond with one another. The closest we come to what I'd like to see is Karlach and Wyll's friendship, but even that's kind of shallow, I feel. The companions do comment on the others' personal quest, but it's always one sentence reaction, before going right back to being mostly indifferent. DA2 had the same issue, if to a greater extent (srsly, the companions had the same attitude about one another over the span of 10 years)

The banter in DAI was superb. It told a story. It had arcs. You could watch in real time as Solas and Dorian became friends over their shared magical nerd-dom. You could even take part in it, such as when telling Blackwall to stfu about jousting for a moment, or telling Sera that what you and Solas do in private is none of her business. You could see Dorian and Bull fall in love. You could watch Varric slowly chip away at Solas' worldview until he arguably came closer to changing his plans than Lavellan ever did. The relationships grow over the course of the story and by the time of Solas' betrayal, you're not just sad because he betrayed you, you're sad because he betrayed Varric, Dorian, Bull, Cassandra and everyone else. Because you saw how they cared about him, each in their own way.

There is nothing more heartbreaking than Varric's "Chuckles, what have you done?"

In BG3, the relationships are mostly left to your imagination, which has its perks, but still, the group dynamic feels more like a wheel with Tav at the centre rather than a web.

4. Having limits on the romance options

Let me start by stating what I am not saying: I am not saying that bi and pan people shouldn't be represented. Far from it. But I don't think making the whole group pan is the way to go about it. I can't help but feeling it is, in a way, pandering to players, making every single companion interested in them as long as they have a sufficiently high approval.

Making some companions explicitly bi, pan, gay or straight made for a more real experience. Getting rejected by Sera on the grounds of "We have a lot in common - we both like women" felt disappointing, yes, but also real. This also allowed the writers to make the characters' sexual/romantic preferences a part of their, well, character. We got Dorian's personal quest, which I think is great. Limiting Solas' options to just Lavellan allowed the writers to make it about him realizing that his people are not mere shadows. It allowed them to write the Vallaslin scene. None of this could have been done if he were romanceable to all races.

When you have diversity in romantic attraction among the companions, suddenly the pan and bi characters (in Bull and Josie respectively) feel like their orientation is part of who they are, rather than a game mechanic to prevent players from missing out on content.

[lovebvni]

holaaa!! (dr rant + just an appreciation post)

(TW SLIGHT HINT TO GROOMING)

soo i’m shifting soon and i decided that im going to make my first album when i get there (LIKE START JT, DUDE. START IT. IM SO EXCITED) there’s going to b an ep i’m going to finalize when i get there and it will be released on the 26th of the month i get there (as it is kinda a diss on a MAN who was 26 when we dated… i was a minor still.)

i’m also gonna make a family tree because i’m really bored (and i also kinda js wanna see all my siblings yk? im gonna draw them all soon bc like AUGH AJAJDKDJ I MISS THEM!!!)

omgz i’m so excited dude!!

(appreciation below!!)

also i saw billie eilish in my dream last night. one of the funniest and sweetest people i know 😭 SHARK WAS ALSO IN THAT DREAM HES SO SWEET ‼️‼️ god i wish i could hug them today, just right now. yall don’t understand how much billie and finneas have been through together, and im so proud of how far they made it. i love you both, and although you won’t see this post in this reality, i know you will when we r together :DDD u guys make me so happy, so inspired, and just a better person overall. also huge thank you to billie in helping me with directing my music videos and being featured in one of my favorite songs — ripple effect. thank you finneas for just 😭 for keeping her alive, giving her a passion, and being so protective and supportive of her.

i’m so excited to b friends w both of them n js talk to them daily — it’s so fun.

i’m also super duper excited to meet one of my closest friends — nile — in person finally!!!! it’s been like 3 years of shifting together, and i know she’s excited too. i know she’s reading this, btw so i love u sm nile and thank u for being such a great and perfect friend throughout this whole journey. i truly don’t think i would still be kicking without you. i owe you the world, and i know you’re going to be blessed with many MANY things in the coming months, and the years following will be some of your best, but that’s only a taste of what is truly to come.

i’m so proud of you, and i’m also so round of everyone that has been clinging onto shifting even though it hurts. i’m always here for you. i love you all so so much. i want the best for you, and i know you’re going to get it. i’m always here to help in ANY way i can. ask me anything, i promise you i will answer with the wisdom God and the universe has given me!!

i cannot express my gratitude to my father, loki, enough. i don’t know how to even put it into words. he’s been there at my hardest, he’s been there at my best. i don’t think i would actually even be this far without him either. he’s one of the silliest and sweetest people ive ever met. i can’t believe he’s my FATHER you guys!! ITS SO COOL AUGHH

i also have so many people here i need to thank, there’s more that i can think of right now but just know i love and appreciate every one of you guys.

staring with @smellofemale!! you were such a sign when i met you. i don’t think i’ve met a christian shifter — you’re the only one i still talk to if i have! im just so so sooo blessed to have met you. i don’t know what to say, dude! i love you so much. you’re so sweet, so kind, and so inspiring. i love you!

@eneablack although you’re one of my newest friends, you’re another really really inspirational one. you’re so open about your struggles with shifting, even though you’ve had success time and time again. it shows me and many others how shifting sometimes is a hard thing to get used too, even with successes under your belt!

@daisys-reality! if you don’t know them, FOLLOW IMMEDIATELY PLEASE OMGGJAJSN she gives some of the best and most accurate readings i could ever ask for. also her drs (specifically her mermaid one) have inspired me so much!!

@kanachaka UR AO COOL BRO I JS LOVE SEEING UR POSTS AJSJDKDJD

@kazylynn i love u sm!! u rlly show me i can be an inspiration to others, and that’s something i’ve hoped for all my life. i want to be a good, helpful person — and i love you for showing me i can be.

@babybearthepsychic a few months ago you gave me a free reading that was just so accurate and so real. i don’t know if i would still be on this spiritual journey without it, because i was at one of my hardest points then. i cannot believe how just truly accurate and kind you are. i love you so much, you’re doing amazing. i wish i could give you the biggest hug, and i could donate like a million dollars to u rn but i literally don’t have a job 😭

@zipperrants i don’t think i rlly need to explain this… dude i thought u we’re so cool even when u we’re js interacting with @maddies-chronicles and i rlly wanted to interact w u so bad but i was so so scared bro!! and thank u hale for giving me the opportunity to meet them!!

@accidentalshifter YOU DONT UNDERSTAND HOW MANY PEOPLE U REPRESENT IN THIS RESLITY — YOURE ONE OF THE FIRSR ADULT SHIFTERS I SAW ON HERR AND IM SO SO SO SO SOOO FUCKING HQPPY YOURE SO OPEN ABOUT IT! you’re just so free and it’s beautiful. i love you so much

and there are so many more but i just.. im gonna cry i love you all tooo much.. please know u all mean so much to me and i can’t wait to tell u so many stories when i get back, and help u guys shift. i am working so hard to post more, and i pray this post can help me become more active.

so so so much love, to everyone in this community, you’re so wonderful. may the gods bless you.

so much love, peace and joy

the abyss

[qvrcll]

leon kennedy hcs — ᥫ᭡

summary: a collection of leon kennedy headcanons i had procured deep in my notes app :-) can be applied to any version of leon, if i’m being honest.

warnings: nsfw mentioned in orange under the cut, ambiguous fem reader, older leon in some parts, food mentioned

a/n: recently wanted to write up some head-canons for leon as i had for past fandoms i was in, so voila :-) ngl i might make a part 2 !! i always appreciate the comments / rb’s / notes, ty i love you all :-,)

thinking about re2r ! leon who constantly provides you with a lunch before clearing off to work. he thinks its the one, amassable way he could ever amount to the love you’d shed on him — it’s a simple routine to fall into. he’d wake up around the early morning hours, gently peppering your forehead with light kisses before hesitantly peeling his body from yours. then, he’d spend most of the next few successive hours threading a delicious yet cute lunch for you. tomato soup, using cream to make a cat face on the vermillion surface? already packed away. a sandwich with cute hearts decorating the brown of the bread? he’s already prepared two. always making sure you’re well and sewed-up with your lunches for the ongoing day!

i think he’d also love his fair share of physical contact. it would begin in the early stages of dating, when he’d catch you coiled in your seat during the dilatory hours of the evening. you should have been in bed now, instead you’re effecting your incredibly important report, eyes cumbrous with sleep and your body slumped against the hard-wood bench. awkward and tense. so leon walks over, with his hands coasting your collar bones / shoulders / temple / forehead and softly palming it, effectively melting all the stagnant stress like water with a sigh. other times, he loves to cuddle you close — full-blown plastered against him like another layer of skin, limbs tangled with each-other to the point of not knowing where you start and where he ends, hands spun on your neck / thigh to gently massage the area when he feels himself maunder into a bottomless sleep with you corralled in his arms.

he acts like an old man and i will die undefeated on this hill — whenever he picks up from a particularly good nap, he always makes that deep, scratchy sound at the back of his throat, even stretches his limbs as far as they can go and then proceeds to whinge in pain from the pull of his muscles for added effect. squints when you hold up the phone to him, holds it away from his face. he also periodically sends you pictures of cute animals with some overly intent caption like “i’m feeling fabulous today and so should you :)” or something so embarrassingly cute in the most leon way because he thinks they’re the funniest thing in the world. ALSO an adamant advocate for instagram reels I JUST KNOW IT he chuckles loudly and ends up on them for hours.

re2r ! leon definitely got emotional / teared up / cried when you did anything to show him affection. for instance, you’d tell him you made him a playlist and this man ended up listening to it on repeat in bed, woke up with tears on his pillow. he’d also get overly excited when you remember some obscure detail about him that he revealed half-drunk in some bar over clamorous music. maybe he told you how he had a phase where he just listened to linkin park on repeat or how much he loves a certain brand of pasta — when you bring it up, he’s feverishly rubbing his hands against his jeans, eyes swallowed by a want he doesn’t even know is there, nattering again and again the words “wait, you caught that?” with a dopey, fresh grin on his face.

he’s pretty constant about his hair — his barber’s have basically memorised his preferred style / length whenever he visits them. he prefers to get them cut when a gruelling mission nearly cost him his life because he couldn’t reload in time, due to the strands assaulting his eyes. or maybe the summer made him realise its time to nominate a shorter cut. but he gets so psyched whenever you get your hair cut / done. whatever hairstyle / length, cut short in a pixie or a layered look or some goddess locs / knotless, he’s always in awe of you. he discerns your maintenance pattern and gets involved sometimes, maybe lathering oil on your roots when you’re too beat for it, or maybe he massages your head in that upwards, firm motion that has you out in seconds.

if the words “distance makes the heard fonder” ever applies, its to leon! it doesn’t even have to be that great a distance — once he’d worked on a particular operation (a few ways off) that required him to be away from home for merely a week and he’d returned, hunched in your doorway, eyes drooping at not having his human battery there. he always grasps you tight, in a hug so suffocating, to know you’re here, safe, in his arms. other times, after the outbreak, he would be required to be away one too many times for comfort. the d.s.o. was incredibly demanding, so he’d be all the more clingy when he returned, telling you just how much he hates this stupid job and how much he hates the feeling of not being near you. maybe sometimes, when he’s away for god knows how long, he video calls you out of fear of never seeing you again. he’d be instantly relieved by your familiar face lighting up the screen, exclaiming his name in that familiar tone. maybe sometimes, when he’s too spent, he’d feel himself falling for worse desires, palming himself through his pants at the sound of your voice if you’d tease him long enough, liquid and canorous voice emitting from his phone as he pathetically whines at your muffled praises. his eyes nearly fall out when he catches your fingers pressing firmly against your clothed heat, clit pressing against the fabric, wanton moans making it hard to stymie his release. its an unspoken, mutual agreement that the first day back is going to be a wordless detour to the bedroom.

amused when you take an interest in his weapons / holster / work place materials. although he loathes his job and would never give a green light for you to get caught up in this obstructive mess, he does enjoy the feeling of teaching you the bare basics of, for instance, self defence or maybe the correct compartments of a gun. he loves your concentration face, the way your tongue pokes the inside of your cheek or slips out in a “:P” when you’re poking around the metal build of his shot gun or feeling the rough material of his age old holster with such thought. i’m not sure where the thought came from, but if you ever mention wanting to build something (an extra shelf or a nook for clothes) leon operates in the sneakiest ways — when you’re at work, at a friend’s or simply out for long enough for him to attain the request at command. definitely does it without a manual and loves watching you exclaim in surprise when you get back, burying his nose into the crook of your neck, glad he could give you this crack of elation after everything you’ve done for him.

loves buying you gifts when he stops around a store — a plushie, that head scratcher you really reallllyy wanted, maybe even lingerie and cute costumes ;) once, you surprised him by getting a cowboy lingerie piece and this man barrelled into you and onto the bed. he’d been breathless, rubbing circles into your hips as your squirmed, not giving you the swell of pleasure you begged for — “think you can get away with this, huh? teasing me like that. come here,” and the words would die on his tongue as he shifted the skimpy under-piece and licked a long line across your throbbing heat, holding back a laugh when you’d twitch and hitter in his clutches. staying true to the word, you had asked him if you could ride him and he almost flew to the heavens, cooing “of course you can, sweetheart,” amassing the flesh of your bottom in his hands as you fervently rode him, sickly enjoying the way you whined and keened from the way he was brimming you. slotted into one another, breaths locking as one. needless to say, he definitely buys you more outfits which you always remember to accoutre yourself with to show your gratitude :)

© 2023 qvrcll ! do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[nonplatonicsubtext]

because nobody's read twig and nobody should, here's wildbow's funniest queerbait in its entirety below the cut

She dressed light, so she wouldn’t rumple her clothes.  She would want to look good when the Infante arrived.

Lillian looked so tired, even in sleep.

The black coat remained the goal, it had to be.  But this job and jobs like it, they felt like small steps.  They needed to accomplish something more.

They needed to not wait when they had answers others wanted.  Not when time was so elusive.

Mary took a moment to tie her hair back with her ribbons, then climbed onto the bed.  She remained there, poised, on her hands and knees above Lillian.

Gently, she lifted Lillian’s hands, moving them out of the way.  Then she leaned down, touching her lips to her friend’s.

Soft, almost imperceptible.

Lillian reacted, exhaling softly, and Mary moved the towel to cover Lillian’s eyes as she made the kiss more perceptible, momentary touches instead of feather light ones.

Lillian, more awake, raised her head up, reaching, and Mary met that response with something substantial, then a touch of tongue.

It was about drawing it out.  A quarter of the way, each time.  Then as Lillian responded more, halfway each time.

Lillian arched her back, reaching up with her whole body, while her wrists were held down.

The progression, logically, meant the next step was a three-quarter one.  Body to body.  Instead of this, Mary moved her knee, placing it on the bed between Lillian’s legs, firmly, insistently pressing.  She could feel Lillian change the angle of her hips.

A part of her liked getting this right.  Like managing the perfect maneuver with the knife and wire, precise acrobatics.  It made her think of being in lockstep with Gordon, Helen, or Sylvester.

Lillian made the most delicate of moans, and that response merited another three-quarter-of-the-way-there response.  A kiss, a tightening of her grip on Lillian’s wrists.

In the midst of it all, the moment passed.  A change in the responses that each action got.  In the immersion she was maintaining.

Mary let go, and sat back.

Lillian reached up, taking hold of the damp towel that had been draped over her upper face, and pulled it down, clutching it to her chest.

“What gave me away this time?” Mary asked.

Lillian shook her head.  She was breathing hard, and she didn’t speak immediately.

Mary let herself topple over, lying on the bed to one side.  While she lay there, Lillian took her hand, fingers traveling over Mary’s fingers.  Fingertips traced calluses.  From handling knives and razor wire.

“They’re not his hand,” Lillian said.  Her voice was soft enough it crackled a little bit.  She sounded sad.

“Ah,” Mary said.  “I can do something about that.”

As she looked over at Lillian, however, she could see that her friend’s eyes were sad.

“Unless you want me to stop.”

Lillian shook her head, but she didn’t look sure.

“You look so sad, after,” Mary said.

“It’s nice to believe it, just for a few moments,” Lillian said.  “I don’t know if that’s a good thing.  Maybe I’m not letting it be a clean break.”

“I don’t know,” Mary said.

“I’m so twisted,” Lillian said.  “The Lambs are all twisted around, aren’t they?”

“I’m not the one to answer that, one way or the other,” Mary said.  “It’s more or less all I’ve ever known.”

Still holding Mary’s hand, Lillian knit the fingers of their hand together, staring at the hands, which were held up as they lay there.

They remained like that for several minutes.

“I don’t want to bore you,” Lillian finally said.  “Or for you to think less of me.”

“I’d never think less of you, not for something like this.  And I like the challenge.  Seeing how close I can get,” Mary said.  “But if you want to talk about irritating me… why did we wait?”

[issa-pheonyx]

If you write for Carlos, mayhaps something fluffy? Sfw/Nsfw is up to you, but preferably no mommy/daddy kink, its just not my thing qwq

𝗜𝘁'𝘀 𝗼𝗸𝗮𝘆 𝗯𝗯!! 𝗪𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗮𝗻 𝗶𝘁𝘁𝘆 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗡𝗦𝗙𝗪, 𝘀𝗼 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳. 𝗣𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺 𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝘁 𝗴𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗮 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝘁𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 :𝟯𝟯𝟯

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

-As distinct as it is with him from the game he is going to make you laugh or even crack a smile from you. Besides he knows a way for a lady's heart is to make them laugh. Though there are times he would internally cringe when he predicts he tries too hard in certain jokes, but if it entertained you then perfect! He will not add onto it after that he thinks it'll just ruin it

-FUCKING FLIRTY BASTARD-ahem, now I know this man is fine and all, assuming he just be flirting people left and right, but when you know he likes you and only has eyes for you best believe he will be having his eyes set on you. You are the eye of the prize, nobody else, and honestly I feel like he is the type to do the kabedon move on you (hope I spelled that right, my apologies)

-Speaking of kabedon, his love language is definitely physical affection. I mean even if you are not the type to be equally affectionate as he is, he would have his body close to you, shoulders touching or brushing against each other. He would pepper your face in kisses to wake you up or just to be playful with you, bonus he would end up tickling you with massive kisses on your neck and waist just to hear you laugh cause it makes him laugh of happiness ('but Issa my laugh sounds like a seagull squawk' honey, it'll make him laugh harder sounding like a distorted horn you're safe LMAO-)

-Another would cooking for you I mean look at him on how he is built. That big boy gotta eat. He is most definitely the main chef of the house and if you do not like or never tried any food related to his culture (looked it up saying he could be Brazilian/Portuguese, again this was a quick search and not claiming he is, so don't come at me) well, you're going to try it. Honestly, his cooking skills are really chefs kiss. Anyways, you don't gotta worry about not having time to make food or you don't have the motivation Carlos got you bb~

-Now he is the sweetest, funniest, charming, and gentle giant he is, however he is protective. Maybe too protective, but he learns the separate his life and workplace (until he finds out they were lying to him), but after what went down with Umbrella it did mess him up mentally and psychologically he sought professional help (as he should) and did guide him. Sure, you and him can tell the damages that has left him, but since he sees you as a hope of light that's all that matters to him to keep it moving

-Lastly, he wouldn't mind if you pamper him. Like not only pamper him, but if you✨yassified✨by doing his makeup, putting ribbons or braiding his hair, etc. He turns into a whole different persona and would act so funny when you pull out the camera being like "Yas, queen🌚💅🏽". Dramatically, whips his head causing some ribbons or braids to fall off/go loose, but would be like "ah fuck my eye-" cause the lashes are too unbearable💀

-Overall, he is the best kind of bf/husband and is a walking green flag (shut up I am not gonna do red flags let my babies be happy cause irl men are bleh) and no just because he has his mental struggles that he tends to hide at times. He still seek professional help for that regardless and is still himself, Carlos~

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁. 𝗠𝘆 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗦𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹~🖤🫣

[theminecraftbee]

hello! solving counting sheep question: do you imagine the life series would happen in the universe? if so, how would that go about happening?

YES THIS IS ANOTHER THING I'VE TALKED ABOUT WITH @strifetxt IN OUR DMS.

once again, like anything post-canon of scs: this is not canon, my word is not gospel, if you have your own headcanons on this one they're valid because the canon divergence is off the charts at this point.

so there are two answers here, the angstier version and the funnier version. okay no there are three answers. the first answer is that three isn't that kind of watcher and if you take the life series as a watcher trap, ala martyn's lore, three (and also even martyn and jimmy) is just... not easy to box into it. we have a group of people who are now relatively experienced killing watchers like. the odds of that one happening are Not Very High.

but if you WANT the series to be a watcher trap and WANT it to happen, martyn at the end of scs is, like in canon, kind of vulnerable. we at one point spitballed "what if life series happens because martyn gets ambushed and used as bait to catch the others in the game". this only half works, though, because if three is trapped into the life series it's not like three would play along unless forced. the name of the game would be combination "convincing three that murdering everyone to get it over with faster is not the good solution it looks like it is when you're a little desperate" and "how do you stop a cast that includes martyn, experienced listener agent, jimmy, actual listener for all he's not all the way one, three, superweapon, and pearl, experienced at deterring watchers on her own, from just... breaking out of the games and wreaking havoc".

the FUNNY option, however, is that. okay so three is with the hermits and jimmy is with the x life cast. the hermits notice that three really likes structured play and also is good at killing things. the x life cast notices jimmy misses his friends and also they're playing x life its not that dissimilar from third life specifically. impulse, known for going overboard, goes "hey three you know what i bet would cheer you up?" and then contacts scott. scott, who thanks to x life sort of assumes this death game premise will be a fun survival multiplayer experience with occasional goofy drama and not a death game (which i'll note WAS what everyone assumed at the start of third life) agrees to get players. three makes a bunch of the rules after being coaxed into it because it's not as good at setting these things up but it DOES have strong opinions about rules. a very canon divergent third life then happens and then because the life series cast is like that they go "oh that's fun lets do it again".

you could also combine these: everyone BUT martyn is there for a fun time, martyn is just being tormented. this then brings up "three will kill people for martyn" however so i can't say how LONG he's tormented.

that's what we've mostly talked about. we've also joked about "what if instead we just... swapped three and canon grian in the middle of double life." lei said they think three would immediately put scar in an obsidian box to protect him as the only solution. it'd go great.

either way, i'll note the funniest thing about throwing three into a life series game: jimmy probably doesn't die first anymore because he now has a very protective albatross with a sword hovering over him every time he gets close.

so... yes you might say i've thought about this one,

[orbital-obvious]

Some Thought on the Second season (the parts I watched, anyway)

In no order in particular, really.

=> The scene in the first episode of Jace trying to report Rhaenyra about the forces he aquired but breaking down in tears due to Luke's death was amazing. It's the conflict between being royals/rulers and being people/family. It also gave us more info about the state of the upcoming war, and showed us the relationship between Rhaenyra and her son.

=> Could have done without the "Rhaenyra looking at the distance" scenes, though. There must be a better way to explore her grief.

=> We got to see Lord Stark!!! And get some Winterfell lore!!! and go see the Watch!!!! The North is my fav I'm so glad to get that little glimpse. Also Cregan Stark is the most Stark dude I've seen on this show(s). Hopefully we'll see some fun wild blood of the wolf moments from him.

=> "I want Aemond's head" *leaves* ok girlboss but maybe come up with a plan

=> Jace hair is just.... So much better. I love character development.

=> We were robbed for not getting the Green's reaction to Aemond's kinslaying, especially since they'll have to manage the fallout from this act.

=> I don't like sexual turn in Allicent/Cole relationship. Not because I blame Allicent or whatever, I just really liked how their relationship was not grounded in romance/sex (in a way, they were respite to one another from sexual pressures) but I guess "she was a woman, he was a man" writing logic wins.

Edit: you know what? I thing that the criston -allicent thing could have been really good if we saw them get to that point. They were boinking out of nowhere . Was there something I missed in season 1?

=> I can go off all the ways this show strips women of agency and the ability to want anything, and perhaps I will (once I finish the season), but for now I don't like how Mysaria was "poor unfortunate soul forced to introduce Daemon to B&C for her freedom" and not, you know, an active perpetrator in this.

=> LOL not Daemon confronting Rheanys about the dumb scene in the dragon pit from season 1. Yes. Rheanys could've ended this war with minimum casualties. It's not her fault she didn't, the writers just decided to blow up a meaningful scene in the dumbest way ever.

=> Also there is a lot of talk during this season about the smallfolk and how their opinion can sway who wins the war, which is good, but it's odd that Rheanys' dragon stomping, killing and maiming all those smallfolk doesn't ever come up.

=> Daeron's existence being confirmed in an offhand remark after not even being MENTIONED in the last season is the FUNNIEST moment in this show for me.

=> It feels really odd to me that Aemond is still visiting the women who essentially was forced on him as a child. Like. It's the same kind of logic of "Larys has foot fetish becasue his disability is based around his foot" and I don't like it.

=> A lot of people say "They killed the boy" was Heleana not caring about her son dying, but for me it was a perfect encapsulation of her unable to handle the immense pain she's in and trying to distance herself from reality. This and the funeral scene later show Heleana trying to process her grief through her neurodivergence.

=> Real talk: why did B&C have a dog?

=> Daemon in Harrenhall is my favorite storyline, sitting there having indie horror game esque visions and phasing in and out an unfortunate reality of having to do diplomacy. Chef's kiss.

=> Daemon saying "have you considered kinslaying" to a Tully boy whos motto is "Family, Honor, Duty" is so fucking funny. He is so freaking bad at this.

=> ALYS RIVERSSSSSS MY FAVVVVVVVVV "you will die here", refuses to elaborates, leaves. Yes brew blood cocktails to give Daemon nightmares. Yessss gaslight him into thinking its the bed.

=> Ok the plan of Rhaenyra to sneak and meet with Alicent was so... Cartoonish. Also highly irresponsible for the ruling queen to dissapear without a trace during a WAR. Worse of all, it was kind of boring, and cost us valuable time we could use to expand upon other characters.

=> Like I know Cole sent the twin with a similar plan but at least that was acknowledged as stupid by the narrative, and also had an explosive and emotionally satisfying conclusion.

=> LMAO at Otto complaining about Aegon as he was fired, alll the way up to and including when he was packing to go back to the Reach.

=> What team am I if I think Aegon is a legit Usurper but Rhaenyra is kinda boring?