#and it was a little bit of a disaster but mostly fine - that was when all the queer people worked there and it was honestly very healing

[peachcitt]

cracking open a new box of contacts is like cracking open a cold one with the boys except the cold one is the box and the boys are my eyes

[hairmetal666]

The worst thing that ever happened to Eddie Munson is a spinning studio opening in the building next to the neighborhood store he runs with his uncle.

"That's the third one today," Eddie whines as soon as the door snicks shut behind a woman with a glossy high ponytail and electric pink polka dot Lululemon sports bra and bicycle short set.

"You see her ponytail?" Nancy asks. She's flipping through a stack of flashcards. "Never seen a twenty-five year old look fresh off a facelift."

"I hate them so much. What kind of job is 'cycling instructor' anyway?"

"I'm concerned about the amount of makeup they wear to workout. That's gotta be bad for the pores."

"I'm concerned about the collective IQ holding that operation together. Like, do they know how to get out if there's a fire alarm?"

Nancy shoves him, but snickers too. It's not like he really has anything against the instructors. They're fine. Polite and usually harmless. It's the principle of it. It's not fair, that they get to continue into an adulthood that's still all about them being pretty and popular, without any substance.

"You've done college bio," he says. He notices a couple of cereal boxes have fallen over, hops off the counter to push them back in place. "What are the chances their muscles are so big it's cutting off the blood flow to their brains? Is that a thing that can happen?"

There's no response from the front of the store, which isn't unusual. Mostly, she lets him talk and chimes in when the mood strikes. Since she seems uninterested in offering her input, he straightens the cereal and keeps gabbing.

"The other day, one of the guys came in, and his shorts were so tight, I could see his balls. Not just the outline, but the wrinkles. I could almost make out individual pubes. Is that one of those things where they pretend they're limiting drag, or whatever, to improve their speed? Even though it's a stationary bike--"

He turns, the shelves straightened, and literally only three feet from him is one of the aforementioned cycling instructors. Unfortunately, he's the most beautiful man Eddie has ever seen. Even more unfortunately, he definitely heard Eddie making fun of them.

"Uhh," Eddie says.

The guy smiles. "Sorry, my giant muscles make it hard to get around sometimes."

And Eddie just. Like. What the fuck. "That must make it difficult to cycle." God, god but this guy is so fucking, devastatingly hot and all Eddie has done is antagonize him. And not even intentionally!

"I get by," he smiles and Eddie almost swoons. "Hey, when I bend down, can you let me know about the ball sitch? I have a wholesome image to maintain."

Is he flirting? It seems like he's flirting? But that's weird, right? He caught Eddie talking shit, why would he--

"It would be my pleasure to look at your balls," his mouth says before his brain can catch up.

The guy snorts, smile getting bigger. "I don't know, now I might be self-conscious. Might have a wayward pube."

"How will you know if someone doesn't take a look?"

The guy steps closer, cocks his head to the side. He's got this impressive sweep of hair that barely tumbles, his throat dotted with cute little moles and freckles. Eddie's mouth is watering, why is his mouth watering? "I usually get to know someone a little bit better before they get that privilege."

For once, he's speechless and now he's blushing, can feel it up to his ears and down to his nipples.

The guy leans even closer, breath ghosting against Eddie's skin. "Too bad you hate exercise instructors."

This social interaction has already been a disaster, but he makes it even worse by responding with an indignant squeak.

The guy winks, can't hide his genuine amusement at Eddie's expense. "You ever want to make it up to me, you can come to one of my classes."

With that, he walks up to Nancy at the counter, and Eddie gets his first look at the single most glorious ass he's ever seen. His mouth literally drops open as he watches how it jiggles, perfect and round, and he wonders if it would be too much to fall to his knees and worship it right then and there.

Eddie's dumbstruck for a little too long, almost misses as the cycling instructor heads for the door. "How can I take your class if I don't know your name?" He shouts.

The instructor half turns, the sexiest, smuggest smile on his pretty face. "It's Steve!" He yells back.

"I'm Eddie!"

"I know!"

The door closes and he turns to Nancy. "How--how did he know my name?"

Nancy rolls her eyes, goes back to her flashcards. "You're wearing a name tag, you absolute dork."

Eddie knows he's a man of weak will. Is not completely surprised when, after a month of meanly flirtatious interactions, Steve leans across the counter to taunt, "you do one cycling class with me and I'll take you out to dinner."

He's fresh from a workout, hair still damp and messy from the shower. Eddie thinks he's about to lose his mind, desire a clawing beast gnawing on his bones.

"Oh, so I might finally get the opportunity to check out your balls?"

Steve's cheeks go very pink, and something tight and hot tugs in Eddie's abdomen. "If you play your cards right."

[forcedagere]

Based on @/spitdrunken’s reincarnation post! If you haven’t/don’t want to read it, it’s about Bill having known befriended when he was a child, killed you in the disaster. Now you have reincarnated as a human, with some vague memories of your past.

Content: Age regression, obsessive behaviour, implied mental manipulation

Bill tries to avoid thinking about it, but he’s already seen the light leave your eyes once before. (And it had been his fault! You had been so excited, and then—) But dwelling on the past is for suckers. And Bill is no sucker, he has reality in the palm of his hand! Either way, you’re here now, you’re together again! He has the chance to make it all better, to make it all right.

He hasn’t cared about anyone’s opinion of him in a trillion years. You, however, such a clear reminder of his past, of the child he was, he almost wants to crystallize. You still believe that Bill is your imaginary childhood friend somehow given physical form. You don’t need to know everything else he has been up to! It’s fine. It’s totally fine. It’s better for you, this way. And if you’re the most at peace with having your brain slowed down a little, having you all regressed all the time, it only makes the most sense to walk that path.

The Fearamid is a maze of twisting hallways, dead-end corridors and hidden passages. Among the incomprehensible architecture, there is a big, padded room with a locked room where you’re allowed to stay. Whenever Bill isn’t around, you doze off into the dream of a special world created from your own imagination, where all of your favourite things in the world come together! In there, you’re a little kid, having one adventure after another. Bill had spent most of his time around you when younger and grows almost nostalgic thinking about how wonder-eyed you’d been all the way back then.

Your room is full of pillows and stuffed toys and other decorations, all plucked straight from your brain. If there’s anything that’s true, it’s that Bill will always know you better than anyone else. When he’s around you, the noise in his brain seems too quiet down, just a little. He’s not the best caretaker. What he wants more than anything is for you to like him, to love him! So your diet is horribly imbalanced (it’s mostly candy), and instead of cleaning any of your clothes, for example, he’ll just make the old ones disappear and make new ones. He likes to play luck-based (board) games with you, because then it’s not entirely certain he’ll win! It seems there nothing he can’t do— Because that’s the truth! He can make all of your dreams come true, if you just stay right here.

Sometimes, he’ll try to recreate some small scenes of what he remembers. It isn’t much. After a trillion years, most of his recollections have faded away. But he has painted the ceiling of your room to reflect the starry night sky, and he likes to play hide and seek with you. He’ll toss you in the air and catch you again. For some reason, he can even enjoy listening to you babble endlessly about meaningless things.

He tries not to be overjoyed when you cling to him, when you ask him not to leave, when you need him. He likes you the most when you’re being clingy. It’s how you convince him to do the silliest things. He’ll shrink himself down so you can hug him to your chest, or swaddle himself in blankets so his ‘pointy edges’ can’t poke you in your sides while you cuddle.

You see a side of Bill that no one else ever will, but that doesn’t mean his intentions are entirely selfless. Whether this is a form of penance for having snuffed out your life, the desire for someone’s undivided, uncomplicated almost-worshipping attention, or a need to be loved and wanted… Even Bill doesn’t know. He convinces himself there’s some kind of long-con here, but there’s not. Perhaps it’s a little bit of all three.

[cyberwhumper]

        Imran feels like he’s training himself just as much as he is Horus.

        He might as well have a goddamn clicker on himself, redirecting every time he catches himself thinking about how much of a failure he is, how much of a disaster Horus is, just how badly everything has gone wrong. He even has little reminders taped up around the house. They’re stupid, trite things from psychology textbooks, but he knows they’re true. Recovery isn’t linear. Slow progress is still progress. Keep moving forward. The time will pass anyways.

        He sighs, dishing out the wet food. WORDS ARE FUN, declares the fridge. He and Horus are still working on that—him spending hours at a time coaxing the animal to speak, rewarding him for each time he uses a word to ask for what he wants or needs, though Imran hasn’t exactly figured out what treat to give him when he says “please don’t hurt me.” Those words are less fun.

        “C’mere, Horus,” he says, keeping his voice light and soft. “Dinner time!”

        The animal pads around the corner, cautious. He doesn’t seem to like the tile floor of the kitchen, too cold and hard on his paws, but Imran keeps encouraging him. Pets eat in the kitchen, and Horus will adapt eventually.

        “Good boy. Good puppy.” He shakes the bowl, wafting hopefully-enticing synthmeat fumes across the room. Horus’s ears flick, nose twitching, and he sits, curled against the fridge, pressing his back into the corner where it meets the cabinets. His eyes are huge and white-rimmed, fixed on Imran as he licks his lips. Imran mostly suppresses another sigh. The body language is infuriating. The licking, is that hunger or anxiety? Is the eye contact obedience or a threat display? He’s making himself small, not hostile, which should mean vulnerability, but will he lunge if Imran gets close and he feels cornered? It’s maddening just how many variables there are at play.

        “Horus, come.” Imran tries adding a little bit more command into his voice. The pet is lower than him in the family hierarchy, so Horus should have to come to him for food. That makes sense.

        Horus doesn’t move except to quiver and lick his lips again.

        Imran doesn’t hold back the sigh this time.

        Recovery isn’t linear.

        Fine.

        He sits down on the tile himself, despite the way his knees protest, with his back to the dishwasher, then sets the bowl down and slides it across the floor to the animal. Horus’s eyes flick down to the bowl, then back to Imran.

        “Well, now that I’m down here, I’m not getting up any time soon,” Imran says, trying to make it a joke. “So you might as well go ahead and eat, puppy.”

        The time will pass anyways.

[Fic by the exceptionally talented @bxtterflystxtches , who I have the honor of collaborating with for this event. Please show him some love!]

[OC INDEX]

COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!

Tag list: @whumpsday // @demondamage // @squidlife-crisis // @whumpedydump // @cyborg0109 // @whumpfish // @astrowhump // @the-scrapegoat // @whatwhumpcomments // @dustbunnywhump // @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question // @dokidokisadness // @moss-tombstone // @lambofmine // @maracujatangerine // @pinkraindropsfell // @writereleaserepeat // @blood-and-regrets // @littlespacecastle // @snakebites-and-ink // @unforgiven235 // @lonesome--hunter // @atomicsandwichprince // @writereleaserepeat // @whatamidoingherehelpme // @skittles-the-whumpee // @the-blind-one-speaks // @i-eat-worlds // @devourerofcheesecake // @theauthorintraining // @otterfrost // @mommymarichatfurever // @whumpifi // @catnykit // @bitchaknso // @softmutt444 // @yet-another-heathen // @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat // @violent-ultraviolet // @limitlesstrash17 // @inspiral-rl // @mis-graves // @caffeinatedscorpio // @defire // @badluck990 // @unforgivenn // @hunterjumperhoe // @menstrual-blood-feeding // @defire //

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[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 18: Bewitched

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Disclaimer: Please note that this is set in the 60s (like the original series) so there are some traditional dynamics. Also, some of the pairings were just made for plot convenience, I support all the ships without prejudice!

You woke up feeling like it was an important day. It was an important day.

You had received your first invitation to a neighborhood party after a few months of living there, and you were excited about it. Your husband was used to all those human rituals, but you, only since your marriage, had been exposed to them and didn’t know what to expect.

Your friendly and somewhat gossip-loving neighbor, Penelope Alvez, had been the one to extend the invitation. Your husband and hers had the same job and were quite good friends, so she thought it was a great idea to organize a gathering to strengthen the bond.

“I’m home!” called a male voice, as always, exactly at 6:30 p.m.

Your husband had chosen a black suit, white shirt, and a black tie with silver stripes that he had received for Christmas. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, and his beard was starting to show. You loved any look he had, but the element of maturity his facial hair gave him had always been a weakness for you. He was one of those men who aged like fine wine.

“Good to see you, my love,” you said softly, in the midst of the mess that was your kitchen. He approached to greet you with a kiss on the lips and smiled as he noticed all the ingredients scattered on the table, the counter, the floor…

“What are you doing, sweetheart?”

“Something to take to the Alvez's house. Isn’t it customary to bring something when you’re invited?”

“Yes, but… you don’t know how to bake.”

“Of course I know how to bake!” you squeaked, feeling offended. It was half-true, as you usually used magic to get decent meals. “I mean, I’m learning, but I’m trying hard.”

“I know, I know. But you could have told me, and I would’ve bought something on my way home, so you wouldn’t have to worry.”

“Let me do this, okay? I know I can.”

Spencer smiled compassionately, touched by your attempt to make a carrot cake. After the shocking revelation (for him) that you came from a powerful line of witches, the two of you had tried to live a life without magic to keep your marriage peaceful. Of course, your mother didn’t agree with this, upset that you were, in her words, lowering yourself and denying your nature.

However, you loved him enough to sacrifice the use of your powers if it meant being able to have a family with that man. No matter anyone’s opinion, it was just the two of you.

Of course, you didn’t completely abandon the use of your abilities, but you mostly did so when he couldn’t notice. After all, household chores were much easier with a little magical help.

“Okay, do you need me to help with anything? It’s almost time to go. I don’t know if you want to shower, get ready, or…”

“No. Don’t worry. I’ve got it.”

You were stubborn—your husband knew that and accepted it when you decided to marry. That’s why he stepped out of your space, not wanting to create any unnecessary tension. You just needed time to calm down and carry out your plans.

Half an hour later, he came to check if you were ready, only to find you on the verge of tears in the kitchen. There was a nearly burned cake on the table, a poorly made frosting, and decorating items scattered everywhere. It was chaos.

“What’s wrong, pumpkin?”

“It’s horrible! I’m a disaster,” you sobbed, approaching him to let him wrap you in his arms.

“You’re not a disaster; you’re learning,” he reassured you, holding back laughter. Gently, he removed some carrot bits that had somehow ended up in your hair and stroked your back sweetly. “It doesn’t look that bad. We can still save it.”

“I’ll bring it in a container, and… I don’t know, maybe that way it’ll look less awful.”

He encouraged you to do just that, and after helping you pack it up, you got ready to go. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t use a little magic to look better and change your outfit in a couple of minutes. And although your husband suspected it, he didn’t say anything.

Spencer offered you his arm to help you avoid tripping in those little blue heels you were wearing, and then you both walked to your neighbors’ house. You looked nervous when you realized you weren’t the only family attending, and your husband urged you to relax, somewhat amused by how much importance you were placing on it all.

“Good evening! Oh, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Come in, come in!”

The blonde woman with glasses hugged you as soon as she saw you and took the liberty of kissing your cheeks. Behind her was a man who greeted your husband, whom you assumed was Mr. Alvez.

“Thank you for inviting us…”

“Don’t mention it! I was dying to meet my new neighbor,” Penelope murmured, giving you a mischievous look. You felt as if she was trying to tell you she knew your secret.

Spencer encouraged you to enter, placing his hand gently on the small of your back and nudging you forward. Once inside, you met several people: the millionaire, divorced, and eccentric Mr. David Rossi, the LaMontagne family—husband, wife, and two kids—the Morgans, and lastly, a man named Aaron Hotchner, his son Jack, and Jack’s stepmother, Emily Prentiss.

The men were already drinking whiskey and champagne, while the women were chatting peacefully. You asked the hostess where you could put the container with the dreadful creation you had made, and she accompanied you to the kitchen.

“Penelope is obsessed with your wife. She doesn’t even pay me this much attention,” Luke teased once the women had left. “She’s convinced your wife makes things appear out of thin air and says the flowers in your garden are so beautiful because your wife takes care of them with magic and all that.”

“What… what things, that’s ridiculous,” he laughed, trying to sound nonchalant but feeling strange about Penelope’s deduction.

Had she really seen you practicing magic?

“She has a very active imagination. And sometimes she gets bored at home,” he murmured. The truth was, he didn’t believe the woman: he thought she was just pulling his leg.

But your husband, being more perceptive, started to reflect on what it meant for someone in the neighborhood to already be suspecting your particular condition. You both stayed somewhat apart during the gathering, as he wanted to give you a chance to socialize with the women. You know, to get out of the routine a bit.

At some point in the night, he saw Emily coming out of the kitchen with a slice of meringue cake that looked simply delicious, and Spencer excused himself from the other men to investigate.

“Where did you get that?”

“Uh… your wife brought it?” she laughed, a bit confused.

“My wife?”

“Ugh, men. You didn’t even notice what she baked!” the woman exclaimed, scolding him playfully. “It’s delicious, by the way,” she added, tasting the strangely perfect white meringue cream.

Spencer figured it wasn’t a matter of distraction—he knew you hadn’t brought that with you. He went in search of the dessert and saw that, indeed, a beautiful pastry was sitting on the table.

“She’s got a gift, Spencer! It’s almost like she has magic in her hands!” Penelope laughed as she cut a piece for herself before leaving the kitchen to rejoin the group.

He had a glass of champagne in hand as he approached you.

“Ladies, may I steal my wife for a moment?” he asked politely toward the group of women you were with.

You knew something was wrong when he looked at you, and as you walked over to him, you mentally reviewed what could have upset him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why is it that all of a sudden we brought a perfectly baked cake to the gathering?” he whispered through his teeth, keeping a calm expression. Everyone could have easily thought you were having a loving conversation.

“I can explain…”

“Love, you know the whole no-magic thing is for our safety. It’s not just some whim; it’s an agreement we made.”

“Do you not love me anymore?”

“How did you come to that conclusion?” he immediately replied, sounding exasperated. “I’m just saying you can do that at home, but… I don’t want anyone to find out, okay? I’m worried it could put you in danger.”

“No one will die because I fixed a cake, darling,” you exclaimed, pouting. Spencer feared you might be misunderstanding his words and getting upset, so he leaned in slightly to kiss your lips.

“Don’t be mad,” you said, looking at him in that way that made him melt, as you placed your hands carefully on his chest, almost at his neck “We’ll talk about this at home, okay?”

You sighed discontentedly, then glanced aside. The glass in his hand was almost empty, so you thought it would be a good idea to refill it with magic, even though he had explicitly told you not to use it in public a second ago. He said your name in a scolding tone.

“No one’s paying attention, Spence,” you defended yourself, nodding toward the group of people happily chatting. “But fine, I won’t do any more magic. It’s just that… everyone here brought such beautiful things, and I was afraid they wouldn’t like what we brought.”

Your husband, a bit calmer now, smiled briefly and leaned in to kiss you again, more deeply this time.

“I don’t want you to feel like you can’t fit in without your magical abilities. But I also don’t want you to deny who you are. I just want to protect you, my little witch.”

You fell silent, unsure of how to respond to that, and then you leaned against his chest, silently asking him to hold you. He kissed the top of your head, and then you heard someone laughing.

“Save that for home, tiger. You’ll have plenty of time to spoil her later.”

Everyone laughed at Derek’s joke, and you both pulled away, your cheeks slightly flushed from embarrassment.

“Come join us. Reid still hasn’t told us the story of how you two fell in love, and I’m sure everyone’s dying to hear it,” Emily encouraged, sitting on the couch next to her husband.

Spencer took your hand to lead you over, and you both joined the conversation. Later, when you saw him arrive with a slice of meringue cake, you couldn’t help but give him a reproachful look, but he just shrugged and winked at you.

If you had already used your magic, you might as well enjoy it.

[7ndipity]

False Pretenses

fwb!Jungkook x Reader

Summary: Just how fair does the ‘benefits’ aspect between Friends with Benefits actually extend? Based on this meme.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: crack to fluff, suggestive moments and ending, swearing, Jk has side by side washer/dryer units cause it’s funnier, reader’s referred to as ‘Ma’am’, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! Sorry it took me soo long to get to, I hope you’ll still like it tho! (I’ll also be posting a couple more pieces with this pairing in the next couple weeks, so keep your eyes peeled if you liked this)

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

It was the type of text you had gotten more than used to receiving from him over the past few months, smirking down at your phone as you waited for the elevator in his building.

“Need you so bad rn. Come over?❤”

The heart was a new addition, he must be feeling particularly needy today, you thought to yourself as the elevator doors finally opened.

Since the two of you had established this new part of your friendship, it was rare for you to go more than four or five days without receiving some variation of the same short message from him.

You were still slightly surprised by his text, seeing as you had only been over the night before, but you weren’t complaining by any means. Though you may have enjoyed pretending that Jungkook was the needier one in your arrangement, if you were completely honest, you were just as affected by him, finding yourself missing him on the nights you didn’t spend together.

When he opened the door, you noticed he looked a little more disheveled than usual, his hair sticking up all over the place, as if he’d been running his hands through it, a habit you knew he did when he was stressed.

“You got here fast.” He noted, letting you into the apartment.

“Well, your text made it sound kinda urgent, didn’t want to leave you waiting too long.” You said, wandering through into the living room, slowing to a stop as you caught sight of the chaotic state of the space, cleaning supplies and laundry scattered around, furniture moved all out of place.

“What happened in here?” You asked, turning back to Jungkook, who was now avoiding your eyes. “Koo?”

“I lied, I didn’t want sex.” He said guiltily, looking up at you. “I need you to help me clean.”

“I-, what?” You blinked at him, unsure if you heard him correctly.

He slumped back against the counter, looking stressed as he ran his hand through his hair again. ”My parents decided to surprise me by announcing they’re coming to visit tomorrow, but I’ve done nothing but sleep since I got home from tour last week, so the house is a fucking mess and everything’s a disaster and I need help, please.” He pleaded, staring at you.

You immediately began pulling your coat back on, turning back towards the door. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Y/n, please!” He quickly followed after you, catching your sleeve. “I’ll do anything you want! I’ll buy you dinner, I’ll rub your back, I’ll even let you pick what we watch for a month!”

You paused, turning to look back at him with a raised brow. “Even if I want to re-watch ‘Our Beloved Summer’ for a third time?”

He bit lip, trying to fight back a pained grimace before nodding slowly. “Whatever you want.”

You stared at him for a long moment.

“Fine.” You said reluctantly, caving as you saw the genuine desperation in his eyes. You could never say no to him.

“Thank you!” He sang, catching you in a tight hug and spinning you around in a circle. “I promise I’ll make it up to you!”

“Yeah, whatever,” You grumbled as he set you back on your feet. “Where do we start?”

“Laundry room?” He offered. “It’s mostly done, I just need to vacuum behind the machines.”

Do you really think your mom’s gonna look back there?” You raised a brow, following him down the hall.

“She’s very thorough.” He said seriously.

“Fair enough.” You shrugged. “I don’t quite see why I’m necessary for this part though?”

“I was afraid if I tried to clean back there by myself, I’d slip and get stuck or die.”

“So you want me to slip and die behind your washer instead?” You shot him an accusatory look.

“No! I’ll hold onto you and keep you safe,” He smiled reassuringly. “You know, like the buddy system.”

“I thought the buddy system was for camping so you didn’t get lost or eaten by bears?”

“It’s a multi-purpose system!” He said, his earlier agitation starting to flare up again at your teasing. “Are you gonna help me or not?”

“Yeah, I’ll do it, pass me the vacuum.” You relented, boosting yourself up on top of the dryer.

He held onto your hips to keep you balanced as you cleaned, his mind beginning to wander as he stared at your ass, his fingers starting to slowly knead your flesh absent-mindedly.

“Koo.” You warned, shooting him a quick look.

“Right, sorry.” He snapped back to attention, ceasing his movements and focusing back on the task at hand.

You finished up quickly, passing the vacuum attachment back to him and letting him help you down.

“Thank you.” He said.

“You’re welcome.” You answered, looking around expectantly. “What’s next?”

The apartment wasn’t nearly as bad of a mess as he claimed it to be, but it still took both of you several hours of work to get everything back in order, finishing off with laundry and changing all the bedding.

“Why are these sticky?!” You asked, mildly horrified as you helped him strip the sheets off his bed.

“Relax, it’s just caramel sauce.” He said.

You looked up at him confused. “We didn’t use-?”

“No no, that was just me,” He explained quickly. “I had ice cream last night.”

“Without me?!” You said, clutching your chest in feign hurt, making him roll his eyes as he let out a huff of laughter.

“I’ll add that to the list of things I need to make up for, okay?” He said.

“Eh, it’s better than where my mind went.” You said, only half joking as you grabbed the fresh sheets from him and turned back to the bed. “Almost thought you were fucking around behind my back for a second there.”

Facing away from him, you missed the way his expression suddenly turned serious as he looked at you. “I would never.”

It was strange, despite the supposedly ‘casual’ nature of your arrangement, you both found yourselves making little comments like that, words and exchanges that sounded a lot more like things said between a committed couple, rather than just two friends helping each other out till you found something more serious.

“Alright, I think that’s everything.” You said, snapping him out of his thoughts. You had finished making up the bed, even turning down the covers for him.

“Thank you, y/n.” He said gratefully. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Probably called Hobi.” You smirked, making him snort.

“Now, you promised me food, and if you lie to me twice in the same day, I’m dumping your ass.” You said, earning another laugh from him.

“Alright, whatever you want, just like I said.” He said, leaning down to give you a quick kiss.

“Although, if you wanted, I could make up for my false pretenses from earlier in a different way?” He offered, eyes darkening slightly as his hands drifted over your hips

You lightly shoved his hands away. “Not a chance, Loverboy, I’m way too tired now. You’ll have to try and ‘make it up to me’ some other time.”

“How about tomorrow?” He said, eyes twinkling mischievously, looping his arms around your waist instead to keep you close.

“I thought your parents were coming over tomorrow?” You reminded, raising a brow at him.

“You could come over after.” He suggested. “Hell, you could even come to dinner with us, my parents like getting to meet my friends.”

“Friends?” You looked up at him skeptically.

“Yeah, what?” He laughed, squeezing you lightly.

“Do you let your other friends suck your di-?”

“They don’t need to know the details of our relationship!” He said quickly, his face flushing slightly, making you snicker. “You’re still my friend, one of my best friends actually.” He added, in a soft tone.

The way he said it made your heart twist in a weird way, though you didn’t quite understand why.

“So?” He asked, staring down at you hopefully. “Will you come?”

You chewed your lip, considering. It felt like a really big commitment to meet his family, regardless of what your relationship was, but you tell it would mean a lot to him if you said yes.

“I’ll think about it.” You said finally.

He beamed.

“Thank you!” He said, leaning in to kiss you again, his lips lingering longer this time, tracing over yours lightly, making you shiver.

You pressed closer to him, hooking your arms around his neck as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss, letting your tongue delve into his mouth as his hands grip on your waist tightened.

When you pulled back for air, his pupils were blown wide, eyes almost black as he stared down at you, breathing heavily.

“Take your shirt off.” You ordered, your breaths equally unsteady.

“But I thought you said-?”

“I changed my mind.” You cut him off, tugging at the fabric impatiently. “Shirt off, now.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn

[thirteenthdoor]

So you know the thing about Chinese women who change their hairstyles when they get married?

Spirealm spoilers nearly all the way to the end beneath the cut.

Ruan Lanzhu

As Baijie, he starts out with full bangs inside the Snow Village Door, a frumpy style he briefly keeps even outside of the door. It's fine when it's a bit scruffy and rakish, I guess? But it does his face no favors.

As soon as we get to Fitcher's Bird, though, he's started parting his bangs over his right eye -- not a full different hairstyle, just a little change to indicate his interest. This look, he keeps both in and out of the door through the Sister Drum and its immediate aftermath.

In that same episode that they leave the Sister Drum world, though, he switches to this severe style where most of his hair is brushed back, except for the weird little tuft over his left eye. This is the one of the two hairstyles he keeps for the rest of the show.

The other is the softer version of that same style, where he's got soft little bangs on both sides of his forehead, but still with a pretty big part between them. This one is mostly in and around the Psychiatric Hospital and the Lady in Rain doors, and then he's back to the more severe option.

So yeah, they get out of the Sister Drum door, Ling Jiushi and Ruan Lanzhu have a little conversation about how Ling Jiushi needs to recover, and by the time Ling Jiushi is recovered enough to come down and pet animals, Ruan Lanzhu has rolled out a whole new look! ...One that Ling Jiushi promptly does not notice. You know Lanzhu is about to explode. He needs his beloved to compliment him on his new style! But no, his beloved is too busy squeezing a corgi butt.

Ling Jiushi

Unlike Ruan Lanzhu, who falls pretty much immediately, Ling Jiushi hangs on to his initial hairstyle for a long time. Like, for 28 whole episodes, he maintains pretty much the same sweet little bangs-forward haircut he's had since his school days. Sometimes it's a little fluffier, sometimes it's more combed back, but it's the same hairstyle.

After the River God door, Li Dongyuan dies, Ling Jiushi goes through his whole backstory, he and Ruan Lanzhu protect Zhuang Rujiao, they visit Xiong Qi in the hospital again -- and in the very next scene, he's suddenly got his hair parted over his right eye. It's not not like Ruan Lanzhu's second hairstyle. He wears this style for the Sunny Doll door and everything that happens after with Tan Zaozao.

The very first scene after Zaozao's video, though, Ling Jiushi shows up with a significantly different hairstyle, one that he keeps for the rest of the show. He is again following Ruan Lanzhu's lead, parting his hair on his right side and exposing most of his forehead, with only a little flop down over his right eye. It looks way more casual than Ruan Lanzhu's version does, but the structure is similar.

...And in the book, the aftermath of her death is when those disaster boys finally hook up. I'd be willing to chalk this just one of those random costume change things, except that the timing is so specific it's hard to ignore. A change has happened in his young man's life, and he is ready to let the world both in and out of the doors know about it.

Anyway, they're married now. I don't make the rules; I'm not an NPC.

[read-write-thrive]

part 1

“Waiting for the other shoe to drop”, while pessimistic, seemed to be a running theme in Charles Rowland’s life. It wasn’t really a phrase he heard when he was alive, to be fair, but at some point he’d come across it (probably hanging out with too many Americans, but can’t remember for sure) and it felt a little too much accurate. His dad’s come home angry again? Time to wait for the fallout. He’d gotten written up at school for not paying attention? Just a disaster waiting to happen. He goes against his best mate’s advice? There he goes, literally torn from Charles’s arms and back to hell, just as he’d said. Maybe the last one was a little dramatic, but that’s the gist.

The looming anxiety of it all usually slid off of him for the minor stuff, and was otherwise bottled up and shoved far away for the heavier stuff, but regardless he didn’t let it show. Have to keep up appearances and all. He’d only had one real instance of all those emotions blowing up (and he still blames the Night Nurse for all that mess) so he thought he was doing a bang-up job keeping himself together.

That was until his dad died. Yeah, it was rough, and he ended up berating the old man on his death bed, which probably was a shitty thing to do. And yeah, he’d needed a bit of a cry afterwards. So what? Blokes cried sometimes, and he was man enough to admit to his emotions and all that. The girls had done a good job of emphasising that he (and, mostly, Edwin) needed to express their emotions more. That it was healthier to let it out than bottle it all up. Not sure if they still needed healthy habits as ghosts, but it wasn’t hurting anyone. Just a little uncomfortable.

All that to say, it felt like his friends had been treading on eggshells around him ever since his dad died. Which was infuriating, yeah, but also didn’t make sense to him. Especially after he’d already cried—did they expect him to get angry again? To blow up over a dead man? He thought he’d gotten it out of his system just fine, so getting these weird vibes was starting to stress him out more than anything. He’d resolved to bring it up on their next movie night and ask why they were acting funny—didn’t want to mess up a case, after all.

However, he didn’t get the chance before it all came crashing down on his head. Ultimately, Edwin was the messenger.

“Charles, I—“ he took an unnecessary breath, “Have you checked on your mother lately?”

His undead heart went cold, but his default smiley ways were still stuck on, “Not really, why?”

Edwin’s eyes were sad, which was never good. He didn’t emote unless it was serious, “I think you need to visit her. She’s not faring well.”

And so they went. Turns out everyone hadn’t been waiting for Charles to blow up, but rather for his mother to pass and then for him to break down all over again. Edwin had been checking on her daily since his father’s passing, deducing correctly that Charles would be too swept up in the emotions around his dad dying to remember that his mum wasn’t getting any younger.

The girls weren’t free until the evening, but they promised to stay in touch and maybe visit later if they could (particularly if they could figure out how to visit the Hospice without rousing suspicion). And so Edwin and Charles were on their own.

Charles had rushed into the room, as if running at the issue would evade the emotions of it, or as if getting there quickly would reveal it was all a lie—neither of which were true.

Instead, he was face to face with a dying woman with some resemblance to the photo on the mantle in the house he grew up in—his grandmother, or maybe his great grandmother, or some favourite aunt, he couldn’t remember anymore— hair gone fully white, pulled back into a tight bun so as to keep her curls controlled, keeping her gaunt, sleeping face exposed. Unlike that photo, this woman was in a hospital gown, tucked into sterile sheets, with a tube under her nose to help her breathe. Gone were her usually loud and ornate earrings, her bare fingernails stained from years of colour. There was a singular blanket laid across her lap, on top of the sheets, that almost looked more familiar than the woman it covered. It was her, but apparently he hadn’t stopped to just look at her any time recently, if ever. It felt too much like looking at a ghost, as ironic as that felt.

She was awake, but halfway to dozing. There was someone at her side, adjusting the blanket and murmuring reassurances in what was definitely Punjabi. It had been so long since he’d heard it, added to having never properly learned anything besides English under the threat of his father, that he couldn’t make out the words. That realisation left a stinging feeling in his chest.

“A relation of yours?” Edwin asked at a whisper, coming up to stand beside Charles, almost entirely copying his position from that fateful hospital room. It didn’t seem as if either of the room’s living occupants had noticed them.

Charles blindly reached for Edwin’s hand for comfort, not looking away from the scene in front of him and matching his partner’s volume, “No idea. Don’t think I’ve seen them before.”

Edwin hummed, “Perhaps a little too young to have met you. Or someone your mother reconnected with recently—“

“I’m not really in the mood for deductions, love.” Charles said, not unkindly. Everything felt too fragile to be picked apart like that.

“Right. Apologies.” Edwin squeezed his hand and went quiet.

Charles squeezed his hand back in forgiveness, joining in the silence. He kept going back to what the stranger was saying, familiar consonants both soothing and devastating. What kind of a son was he, failing to comfort his dying mother, unable to speak her mother tongue, a stranger to his relatives? His tears were thankfully silent.

It took much longer for his mother to see them than his father. Several days passed, with the mystery relative coming and going more days than not, and the usual nurses and caregivers administering various care. Over time, the boys (the girls couldn’t figure out how to enter the space, but were supportive from their distance) had learned that the stranger’s name was Sangeeta, and she was a niece of his mother’s who’d noticed her steady decline and was the one to take her to hospital and then to hospice care. Charles’s mother had apparently stopped taking care of herself after her husband’s death, and she had refused other care, so at this point all they could do was make her comfortable. Charles spent a whole morning ranting to Edwin about it, how unfair it was that her life was so tied up in his asshole father’s that she wasn’t even trying to live after he was gone. Edwin, the deeply kind person he was, had let Charles rant until he ran out of steam, then gently pointed out that she’d been under the thumb of his father for far longer than Charles was, and that she’d now had to mourn her husband and her only child, which presumably takes a toll. Charles had started crying before Edwin had even finished talking, and Edwin had held him close on the plush sofa for the rest of the day.

It was hard to tell if it was a comfort or not when she finally saw them, but Charles decided that wasn’t important to think about right now, if ever. Right now, his mother could see him for the first time in forty years, and they didn’t know for how much longer. And yet, with all this time to prepare, he still found himself speechless when the time finally came.

“Mere laal,” She beat him to the punch, eyes glazed over but clearly locked on Charles, “I am glad to see you again, beta. It’s been so long.”

Charles let out a shakey breath, “Hi, mum. It’s—well— it’s been longer for you. I’ve visited a few times, over the years.”

She reached out a sinewy hand on a bone-thin arm, and Charles flew to the seat by her side, keeping his focus to make sure his hand stayed solid in her grasp. He vaguely noticed Edwin taking the seat beside him.

“Such a handsome boy. You were so young.” Tears welled up in her eyes.

Charles, all anxious energy and nerves, tears of his own threatening to spill, was quick to respond, “It’s alright, mum, I’m alright. No need to cry over me.”

She huffed, “Nonsense. You were the light of my life. Who else should I cry over?”

They were both crying at this point, tears streaming as they sniffled in turns. Edwin laid a careful hand on Charles’s back in a show of comfort.

However, that seemed to give Charles an idea, “No, really mum, it’s okay! See the bloke next to me? His name’s Edwin, and he’s been by my side all these years! He’s the one who first found me, and we’ve been helping people ever since. It’s been aces. Not sad one bit.”

Edwin stiffened at the mention, then all but froze when her eyes turned to him. He knew he looked night and day from Charles, and if he started talking she was bound to find him as abrasive as everyone always did, so why had Charles pointed him out!? If ghosts could sweat, Edwin would be drowning in his nerves.

Her gaze stayed on him for a long moment before she broke the silence, “He’s been good to you? Not like those other boys.”

Edwin wasn’t sure what to do with that, but thankfully Charles was quick on the uptake, “Not like them at all. He’s— he’s the best, mum. None of those tossers could even compare.”

“Because the boys— the ones who—“

Charles gripped her hand, “I know, I know. He’s a genuinely good person, Edwin. I was bad at picking friends in life, but thankfully I chose well with this one.”

His attempt at joking was overlooked completely by her, “Those boys, how could they do that? I knew their families, John Parish’s mother went to your funeral… Such cruel boys…”

“I’m alright, mum, I’m okay.” Charles kept going, smiling even as the tears continued, “It’s all in the past.”

“I should’ve fought harder for you… kept you close… mere laal, taken from me…” She was sobbing, her whole frame shaking with hiccoughs.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Charles took a steadying breath, “You know I couldn’t have stayed in that house, mum. And no one could’ve known those lads would go that far…”

Her sobs were worse for a moment, then stilled suddenly as she fought for oxygen. She coughed weakly.

At that, Charles’s crying intensified, despite all he did to keep himself together. He could tell. He knew what was coming. It was still devastating to see. Edwin pulled him in for a proper side hug, taking care not to jostle his grip on his mum.

This did not go unnoticed, and the dying woman suddenly smiled, as if the devastation was forgotten with the oxygen. She looked back to her son, “I am glad you have been happy, beta. You deserved happiness.”

“I’m happy, I’ve been so happy mum, I promise,” Charles tried to calm himself down, stuck in his reassuring her.

“Mere laal, light of my life, darling boy,” She breathed with difficulty, smile dropping, “Can you forgive me? I failed you…”

Charles’s frame shook with his vigorous nodding, “I forgive you, mum, you did the best you could, I love you so much—“

Her weak smile returned, glinting in the lamplight of the evening room, “Thank you, beta. You were too good for me, for this world…”

“All because of you, I swear it, all thanks to you—“

“Charles.”

“I love you, I’m sorry I wasn’t a better son, I’m could’ve been better, gotten you out of that house—“

“Charles, darling.”

“You deserved better, I love you, I forgive you—“

“My love, the light—“

Edwin was right, a deep blue light had filled the space, illuminating the still body of his mother. Her face was pulled into a slight smile, eyes closed, as if she was having a pleasant dream, even as the tear tracks dried on her cheeks.

“No, no I’m not ready—“ Charles immediately started to protest, gripping onto her hand like a lifeline.

“Charles—“

“I only just got to see her! She only just got free of him! No, no, I won’t—“

Edwin gently but solidly grabbed under Charles’s arms, “I’m sorry my love but we should go—“

Charles was nothing but hysterics by this point, head thudding onto the sheets for a moment before Edwin fully pulled him away. He said more, but Charles was too overwhelmed to process it properly, buzzing in his ears and headache behind his eyes making him feel alive in all the worst ways. Maybe it was just the first time he had cried this hard in his afterlife, or maybe being this close to an active death did something to their physiology—

Everything was a blur as they returned to the flat, Edwin all but carrying him through the mirror so that he wouldn’t get lost on the way. They collapsed onto the sofa, extra large cushions taken up by their ghostly presences. The girls were already there, and joined into the cuddle pile without another word (or perhaps with a few, Charles still wasn’t all there yet). Edwin jostled them all slightly to better position everyone before settling in again, making sure Charles was properly surrounded.

Charles sobbed for a while longer. He wasn’t quite sure for how long, or what day it was, or if he was bothering his friends by taking up their time and space like this. His devastation had seemed to take over his entire being. But, when he did breathe a little easier, when he was finally able to sit up, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. His mom was dead, yes, but so was he, and dying had granted them both freedom from that man, from that house, from the cruelties of the world. And in his death he was surrounded by people who loved him, people who were there for him when he needed them and would still be there for him tomorrow, and the next, and the next. The other shoe had dropped, and it certainly hurt, but thankfully he had people around him to help him through it. He was truly lucky to have them.

~

hope you enjoyed this impromptu series exploring Charles and his parents and grief and loss and all those lovely things. this was inspired by the complicated emotions I have / had after my grandparents passing, and I heavily encourage you to do something similar if you’re ever struggling with these big emotions—therapists and such will say that journaling is where it’s at, but sometimes it’s easier to project onto fictional characters and that’s ok !!! and, just to drive the point home, I want to reiterate that you are loved, and there are people around you who are there to support you, I promise ❤️

also, just to make it abundantly clear, I’m a v white midwestern american and as such have vvv limited knowledge of cultural aspects of Charles’s mom—I did research and tried my best, but if I screwed anything up PLEASE let me know so I can fix it!!!!! same goes for Britishisms ig but mostly looking for feedback on her Punjabi and her various cultural elements :)

[donationwayne]

DONATIONWAYNE BUDDIE FIC MASTERPOST

Title: Miles and Miles Pairing: Buddie || Words: 6.6k || Chapters: 1/1 || Main Tropes & Tags: Seal!Buck, Returning Home From Deployment, Secret Relationship, Established Buddie, Married Buddie, Buck as Chris' Dad, Comedy, Fluff Synopsis: Three years after moving to LA Buck decides to surprise Chris and Eddie at the end of his final tour. Of course nothing goes according to plan. The 118 have a lot of thoughts about the mysterious Eddie Diaz.

_____ Title: Response Time Pairing: Buddie || Words: 2k || Chapters: 1/1 || Main Tropes & Tags: Established Buddie, Married Buddie, Secret Relationship, Buck & Eddie know each other before the 118, Buck as Chris' Dad, Comedy, Fluff

Synopsis: The 118 respond to a call, which isn’t unusual in itself. But it might explain a lot to Probational Firefighter Evan Buckley’s new crew. Eddie tries to burn the kitchen down.

_____

Title: Blame Me (For Mistakes You've Made But You Can't Own) Pairing: Buddie || Words: 4.5k || Chapters: 1/1 || Main Tropes & Tags: Sick!Buck, The 118 as Family, Pre-Relationship Buddie, Fluff, Comedy, Angst, Casual Mentions of Childhood Neglect & Trauma, Maddie Buckley as Evan Buckley's Parental Figure Synopsis: Buck goes into work sick and the 118 take care of him. We delve into Buck's complicated relationship with illness, due to his parents relationship with ill children.

_____

Title: I'm Alone In The City (And Nobodies Coming For Me) Pairing: Buddie, Bobby & Buck || Words: 18.1k || Chapters: 12/12 || Main Tropes & Tags: Bobby as Buck's Dad, Buck!Whump, Buck's Loft Burns Down, Discussion regarding Eddie's Will, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Angst with a happy ending Synopsis: The one where I burn Buck's loft down with Buck inside! When Buck wakes up cold, scared, and alone all he wants is Bobby (his dad). Buck and Eddie finally get their shit together.

_____

Title: Feelin' Good (Could be Better) Pairing: Buddie || Words: 24.6k || Chapters: 10/10 || Main Tropes & Tags: Emotional Whump!Buck, Athena Grant and Bobby Nash are Evan "Buck" Buckley and Maddie Buckley's Parents, Angsty!Buck, Margaret Buckley is her own warning, angst with intermittent fluff, mutual pining, Protective Eddie Diaz, Outing, Margaret Buckley and Phillip Buckley Bashing

Synopsis: The Buckley parents arrive in LA, turning Buck's already shaky mental status from precarious to worse. Buck consents to join Maddie, Chimney, and his parents for dinner. Buck is super fine, he'll just bake about it. And think about kissing Eddie, obviously. Secrets are revealed, leaving the 118 reeling.

Authors note: **This fic deals with Margaret Buckley as a emotionally and physically abusive parent. (Trigger Warnings Available or msg me)

_____

Title: punch my face (do it because i like the pain) Pairing: Buddie || Words: 3.7k || Chapters: 1/1 || Main Tropes & Tags: Emo/Alternative Teenage Evan Buckley, Athena Grant and Bobby Nash are Evan "Buck" Buckley and Maddie Buckley's Parents, Evan "Buck" Buckley & May Grant are Siblings, Fluff, The 118 As Family, Mention of Eddie's Will,

Synopsis: When faced with a potentially abusive father on a call, Buck goads the man into punching him to keep the kids with their mother. The 118 learn a little bit about Buck as a teenager.

This is mostly fluff. Maddie and Buck make jokes at their own expense.

_____

Title: this could be a disaster Pairing: Buddie || Words: 15.9k || Chapters: 11/11 || Main Tropes & Tags: Wedding Fluff, Christopher Diaz is a Little Shit, Brief Tsunami Flashback, Canon Divergence, Clipboard!Evan Buckley, Groomzilla Evan Buckley, Everything That Could Go Wrong Does

Synopsis: Light hearted romcom about Buck and Eddie's wedding day, which was it turns out is a disaster. Nearly everything that could go wrong does go wrong. Chris is sarcastic about it. Maddie is going to kill them if they sneak off to see each other more time. Bobby and Athena are Buck's parents. The lesbians save the day. Business as usual.

_____

Title: obsessed with the things that you do, low-key I need you to move (in) Pairing: Buddie || Words: 27.8k || Chapters: 9/9 || Main Tropes & Tags: Teenage Chris, Canon Divergent Post-Season 6, Eddie Goes to Therapy, Eddie Adopts A Cat, Mutual Pining, Angst and Fluff, Coming Out, Gay Eddie Diaz, Bisexual Evan Buckley, Christopher Diaz is a little shit

Synopsis: Eddie adopts a cat while Chris is away summer camp. He goes to therapy and comes out to his parents. He continues navigating life post gay realization while being deeply and embarrassingly in love with his best friend.

Buck pines over Eddie.

Chris figures it only a matter of time before they finally get together.

_____

Title: come on, you can show yourself Pairing: Buddie || Words: 8.7k || Chapters: 1/1 || Main Tropes & Tags: Coming Out, Blow-Job Gone Wrong, Mutual Pining, Gay Eddie Diaz, Bisexual Evan Buckley, Eddie & HenRen bestieism, Getting Together, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Eddie tells HenRen about his Will, Eddie sees footage of Buck during the Well collapse

Synopsis: Eddie goes to a gay bar, says Buck's name during a hook up, curses Frank extensively, and comes out to Hen and Karen. They talk about the will and the well and the Buck of it all. Also Buck shows up.

_____

Title: Because Regardless Of How Soft The Touch, I Still Bruise Pairing: Pre-Relationship Buddie || Words: 3.3k || Chapters: 1/1 || Main Tropes & Tags:

Bobby Nash is Evan "Buck" Buckley's Parent, Worried Bobby Nash, Athena Grant is Evan "Buck" Buckley's Parent, Pre-Relationship Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, past self-harm, Evan "Buck" Buckley Needs A Hug, Margaret Buckley and Phillip Buckley Bashing, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Angst and Hurt/Comfort

Synopsis: After sustaining an injury on shift, Buck stays with Bobby and Athena while he recovers. They discover some hard truths about Buck's childhood.

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Title: Backtrack Pairing: Pre-Relationship Buddie || Words: 3.3k || Chapters: 1/1 || Main Tropes & Tags: 07x09 Spec, Implied Pre-Relationship Buddie, Worried Buck, Buck has a feeling realization, Angst, Divorce Era 2.0

Synopsis: Speculation about what could happen if Buck finds out about Kim (S7x09). Buck catches Eddie in public with Kim, he confronts Eddie about it. He also has some feelings about it.

[speedycoffeedelight]

An Animalistic Disaster

Summery : Where they go through the interview and you get a bit drunk

Masterlist

CH-16: Job hunting (part two)

After parking, you three headed towards the cafe you all talked about. The owner of the cafe was a pair of old couple and their son. Their son was a barista who wanted to make his dreams of a successful cafe come true.

Unfortunately, he wasn't great with communication and they couldn't afford to hire a waiter with a nice amount of money. So it was their last attempt at saving the cafe. How do you know all that? Well being in the news industry has its perks when it comes to information collecting.

The horns on Charlie's head and the antenna's on Vaggie's is kind of a big problem. You prayed that they would look past them. It was a small cafe in middle of the bustling road. It looked like it badly needed some renovations. Still it looked cozy enough. You four finally entered. A small ring sounded out from the bell above the entrance door, alerting the boy that was cleaning the tables of the empty cafe.

"Ah,new customers! Welcome!" A freckled, orange haired boy wearing an apron quickly rushed towards you all. His blue eyes were glittering with excitement."Please come this wa-" You cut him off quickly. "Oh no, you misunderstand. We're here for the post of the waiter."

The boy stopped in his tracks and scanned the lot of you. "Are you all here for the interview? " "Oh no only these two" you said pointing at Charlie and Vaggie.

"Gotcha, please take a seat. I'll inform inside."

You nodded and sat down nearby on a table. "Alright, we need to go through something first. Charlie, Vaggie."

"Yes!"

"Yes (Y/n)?"

"Try to act casual, okay. Try to give your best shot during the interview. If they ask you where you came from, just say overseas. It should help skip a lot of questions."

"Will do! But which country should we say if they ask?" Charlie said nervously scratching her neck. "We don't really know much about earth."

"Hm, Charlie could be from America and Vaggie from Spain I guess. I think that checks out."

"Alright then we'll say that!"

"Also about your age...."

"I'll turn about 271 this year I think -" Charlie replied.

"Great, you'll say you're 27. As for Vaggie"

You turned to the black haired girl "You can say 26 or something close to Charlie, got it?"

"Got it ."

While talking with the two and preparing them about various questions. The freckled boy came back. "I hope you're ready for the interview. Come this way please."

"Best of luck you guys!" You pulled Vaggie close before she could follow the other two. "Make sure Charlie doesn't say anything stupid. I'm trusting in you." Vaggie nodded and they followed him to another corner of the cafe where an elderly looking couple was sitting.

"Please take a seat girls."

They nodded and took the seat in front them. "I apologize we couldn't do this in more formal way...things have been a little hard." The old man said. "No, no it's fine, it's fine! We don't mind." Charlie replied laughing nervously.

"Did you two both come for this job? You know there's only one post right?"

"Yes, we know that. Well we wouldn't mind if any of us gets picked really."

"I see, are you two close friends?"

"Girlfriends, actually.." Vaggie replied.

"Oh my, that's great sweetie" the old woman said with a smile. During the whole interview, the orange haired boy stood close, listening to the whole process. (Y/n) was right, they didn't push them too much. The interview was going smoothly.

"Do have any other experiences in working somewhere?"

"Why yes, I run a hote-"

"What she means to say is, we used to work at a hotel, mam." Vaggie quickly chipped in.

Mostly smoothly, with Vaggie coming in clutchs to save Charlie's ass a couple of times.

"We probably wouldn't be able to provide you with much money yet...as you could probably see the cafe's not in its best shape right now. I hope this won't be a problem." The old man sighed.

" Oh no please, don't worry. We'll take what we can get."

"Thank you girls. Our son Adrian is intent on running this cafe. I told him he could do so much better but he insisted on staying with us."

The couple whispered at each other for a moment and then turned to Charlie and Vaggie. "Could you please go back for a bit dear? We'll come with answers soon."

Their son Adrian quickly came forward to guide them back to you.

"So you both are.... girlfriends...? Part of the LGBTQ?"

"Yes, we are. Why?" Vaggie replied.

"Nothing, it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

He turned his head away before both of them could say something and returned to you. Both you and Pentious were sitting anxiously. You let out a sigh of relief as they came back.

"So how did the interview go??" You asked pulling Vaggie close.

"I think it was fine. The owners were nice people."

"And did you pass?"

"They should announce it any time now"

After a few minutes, the couple came back alongside Adrian. You all looked at them nervously for the answer.

"Charlie's hired! I think we could use a nice cherry girl like you around here." The old man laughed. "Thank you! I'll do my best to help!" Charlie jumped off the seat in excitement.

"Just call me Mr.ronald." He shook Charlie's hand. "Could I expect you to work form tomorrow if possible? We need all the help we can get..."

"Yes of course. I'll be right here." Charlie said smiling. "Thank you Mr and Mrs.ronald."

After saying goodbyes and going outside, you let out a cheer. "You did it Charlie! I'm so proud of you." You hugged her in joy and she returned it just as happily.

For the next stop, you went around the market for cheap and broken things. You also bought some tools and equipment that Pentious said he needed. They weren't cheap, but you hoped it would be worth the money.

On your way home, you bought a bottle of wine to celebrate the victory. The others were happy to hear the news as well. Both you and Pentious jumped to work first as soon as you came. In the night, you popped open the wine bottle and poured it for the ones that transformed. You set aside some wine for Pentious since he still insisted on working outside.

Husk got caught trying to drink from Pentious's cup and you quickly moved him away. "Husk that's bad for you!" Husk just grumbled unhappily. He hadn't had booze in such a long time that it was making him go crazy.

You kept Husk on your lap and kept petting him while talking with others. Alcohol was clouding your sense a little bit so you forgot about the fact that you were fondly petting a grown man, or well a demon. Husk tired to leave couple of times but you kept a firm grip on him. And as much as he would hate to admit it, he kind of liked it. He began making purring noises unknowningly as he gave up on getting away.

Alastor and Angel were snickering looking at him from across the room. 'You finally got used to being a pet huh?' Alastor said teasingly making Husk hiss at him. You noticed this and picked up Husk and smothered him against your chest.

"Bad deer! Don't annoy my precious kitty!" You scolded Alastor and looked at Husk who was blushing madly and trying to get away again by pawing at you. "Are you alright kitty?" You held him in front of your face and he mewed in annoyance.

Charlie chuckled looking at you two. "I think you had quite enough drink (Y/n). You should rest." You wanted to say no but your head was pounding quite a bit. "Okaaay, but I want to pat the bad deer first! He still didn't let me touch him!"

Alastor's ears perked up at this statement as he quickly moved towards the door to make a run for it. But you were faster in your wobbly legs. You quickly attached yourself to his neck and nuzzled closer. Alastor briefly considered pushing you away with a violent shake. Briefly since Vaggie sensed it as well and decided to speak fast.

"Don't you try to shake her off Alastor. You'll hurt her." Vaggie replied from the chair she's was currently sitting on. She tried to gently peel you away from Alastor but you wouldn't budge making him groan. This time it was Husk's turn to laugh.

"Just indulge her a bit will you? She'll be normal once she wakes up." Charlie requested Alastor. 'Do I look like- gah, fine...'

He sighed giving in after seeing the girls glare at him. You smiled in happiness when you sensed no resistance from him anymore and dragged one of your hands to his ears. All the other demons in the room watched this eagerly.

'Shit, I really wish I had a camera right now...' Angel whispered.

'Same..' Said Cherri and Husk in unison. They both knew they won't get to see this type of thing so soon again. Cherri thought about how much money she could sell the picture for if she got it and Husk thought about how he'd have something to blackmail against him.

The fur on his ears was soft, terribly so. You carefully moved your hands from the base to the tip of his ears. You were drunk, but you were still gentle. Alastor could feel all the eyes burning at him. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so embarrassed. Unknown to him, his tail was swaying behind him making others have the time of their life seeing it.

"Soo... fluffy...." You whispered softly. Alastor's ears perked up again as he caught that. 'Okay I think that's enough. Charlie please move her before I shove her off.'

Charlie, who was having a hard time holding in laughter, immediately jumped into action. Prying you away from Alastor was no easy task. You still had a lot of strength in yourself. While you were getting dragged to your room, you got a hold of Husk who let out a meow of help. But this time, no one came to help.

Charlie tucked you inside your bed with you still holding onto Husk who just accepted his fate at this point.

"Now just rest up okay?"

"Mmhmm, I will!!"

You replied with a childlike glee making Charlie's heart swoon. She couldn't resist planting a small kiss on your forehead before exiting the room. Husk raised a eye brow at that but decided not to question it. After all, Charlie is normally known to be pretty affectionate.

Resting Husk on your chest, you began to softly pat his fur, making him purr again. He hated how much power you had over him. He was grateful no one was there to witness it this time. Charlie probably told others to keep out of your room for now.

Then suddenly you started crying. Husk was stunned. He mewoed at you to ask what's wrong.

" *Sniff* I miss you... cotton..tails..." You whispered softly. 'Who the fuck is cottontails? That can't be a person.' Husk looked at your crying face once again. He sighed and then nuzzled his head to your cheek trying to comfort you.

"Thank you kitty...." You held Husk close and rubbed your face together. 'Ugh..gross...' Husk mumbled. Then you settled him on your chest again and finally passed out.

'Finally you sleep..god I can't handle these shit being sober. I was so damn close to that wine.." Then he looked at you and found you crying softly again. 'Oh for the love of-' Although he was mentally cursing up a storm in his head, it still sucked seeing you like this. He leaned his head over and softly licked your cheeks while purring.

'What the fuck am I even doing? This shit ain't normal...' But seeing you finally stop crying and then pop up a small smile, if his eyes weren't mistaken, it felt like it was worth it.

'Sleep well kid. I'll be here when you wake up.'

He looked at you with an amount of softness he hasn't looked at anyone in a long time. He rested his head down and closed his eyes.

'Maybe feeling like this ain't bad sometimes..'

Soft yellow light engulfed the room. This time it wasn't as intensely as the ones before. It still bothered you so you turned around while holding the cat. Well the cat who just got turned into a human without either of you knowing. The light was so soft this time, others didn't notice it either till next morning.

.

.

.

.

.

Several half-humans and animals surrounded your bed, mouth agape in shock and astonishment. Vaggie and Charlie were the first to find you like this. Charlie then called everyone to ask what to do. There you were, cuddling a grown ass man who they recognised as Husk, sleeping away peacefully like there's no tomorrow. And the other thing they all noticed was that Husk was shirtless. Charlie refused to believe he was naked with you since you were both still under a blanket and they couldn't see downwards.

'I'm going to wake them up. I can't stand this cheesy show in front of me.' Cherri said suddenly.

"No no you definitely should let her sleep a bit. Maybe we could get Husk to get up.." Charlie said.

'Do ya think they fucked before sleeping like this? Cause it feels like it.'

"Angel you're not helping!"

'I'm just sayin what I think.'

"Angel!"

'Cannonball!'

While they were busy chatting, Cherri took the liberty of jumping on your face,promptly waking you up. She used her tail to swat Husks face as well.

Needless to say, you never expected to wake up cuddling a half naked guy in the morning. So nobody could really blame you for the scream you let out.

A.N: (Please read) There's one thing I wanted to make clear early on is that this book may contain some spicy stuff in future. Not full smut though. I don't believe I have the capability to write those stuffs. Mostly it'll be chill and normal with some shenanigans.

Also let me apologize for writing the two things shit with Pentious 😭. I thought it would be funny to add since it's already canon. But then later I wanted nothing more than to go hide in a hole and decompose from embarrassment reading some of the comments.

That being said, although it would be bit of a spoiler but lemme just say Husk is not naked. I don't want a return of those comments :') they all wear the outfit of season 1 when they transform.

Also Charlie's age thing is reference to an annoyomus ask on Tumblr. I quite enjoyed the scenarios so I decided to throw a bit here.

Tag list: @legostars @glowinthedarkbones1150 @darifes @aria-tempest @rainbowcake1212 @luxylucylou

[blixabargelds]

can u summarize superstars main characters please ? new to this au and i am tuning in

hiii yes ofc it’s being written alternating between gale and johns pov, im writing gale’s which is why you see sm of that. my bestie elo is writing john’s and they’re internet shy which is why you don’t see that jgkgkj

gale is a lil shy, pretty quiet, joins the band after seeing one of their shows bc they need a new bassist and him n john are in love almost immediately lol. he cannot play bass. rosie teaches him :3 he’s got pretty intense anxieties around keeping the people he loves safe after his mom died when he was younger. he’s a bit of a demon in bed. he’s a really hard worker n gets good at bass pretty quick. he can’t write lyrics but he’s incredibly good at picking out patterns that sound good, working with song arrangements, approaches music like a lot of things as a formula to be worked out meticulously. he lives w john in johns apartment. he’s pretty dependent on him, bc he’s practically a runaway and has no money, which isn’t usually an issue but definitely becomes one at a few points. he finds it hard to open up but once he places his trust in someone he’ll come out his shell. rosie is kind of his best friend.

john’s the frontman/ singer/ shouter in there band. he’s very good at writing lyrics. can’t really play any instruments. he’s a kid from a broken care system, never knew his parents. has a shady criminal past with curt but he is a very sweet guy. he’s got the biggest heart out of all of them. walking disaster. uses humour to cover up a lot of hurt, and to keep a Lot of secrets. he’s absolutely head over heels for gale. can be incredibly bossy in band practise, and in bed (gale likes that). has a lot of self destructive habits, a lot of self worth issues. will do literally anything for the people he loves and i mean Anything, but will do almost nothing for himself. him and rosie dated when rosie was in college, which is mostly fine and sometimes pretty messy. we kind of accidentally reinvented richard hell with him.

curt is the drummer. he’s johns best friend from way back when, they’ve done some shady business together in the past. his dad was a criminal, a violent man, but someone curt weirdly looked up to in a lot of ways as a kid. he was strong n didn’t take any shit. curt def separated himself from his family when he got a little older though, realised his dad was running business thru some boots and braces types and curt didn’t want any part in that world. he’s fiercely loyal to his friends, honestly the best person you want on your side. frequently the voice of reason in the band. very cool headed. saves gales life at one point, has definitely saved john’s before. musically he’s an absolutely rabid drummer, like whiplash sticks bloody etc. he’s also a lil basic. or maybe just very straightforward. like his favourite band is black flag. nothing wrong with that but he does roll his eyes at rosie when rosie asks him if he’s heard the latest release from someone no one ever in the world has heard of.

rosie is the guitarist. rosie is. ahhh. insane. lol. he’s patrick bateman. he’s jesus christ. he is a musical genius, he’s got classical training, can play like 10 different instruments, he went to julliard. his parents are seriously upstanding citizens who wanted him to be a classical prodigy but their overbearing attitudes drove him toward punk and distancing himself from them. his mother is Nuts. rosie is endlessly kind and also cold inside, he’s the best friend you want and also the grim reaper. he’s sooo sexy. he does not call women back ever. he had a big breakdown in college. he’s like a lil cracked. but also outwardly so steady and so put together. i have to study him under a microscope. he will play the harp for 6 hours straight until his fingers bleed to avoid having one thought.

fun minor characters include; sandy (rosie’s ex who keeps cropping back up. rosie’s mom Loved her. she’s probably rich enough to not care about voting but she thinks trump is just hilarious), ulrich ([redacted]), Big Tom ([redacted]), and marge. sweet marge gale’s childhood sweetheart who’s always there for him even when they never really see each other anymore.

[lemon-russ]

sorry, I was going to write the Russ fic from the poll but I am being actively haunted by the gay lady Custodian. She must be freed.

Thank you @squishyowl for the divider :)

Emperor's Saint (Pt. 2)

Pt. 1 || Pt. 3

Fem!Custodes x Fem!Reader

CW: GAY, SUPER SAPPHIC GAY

Summary: Diplomat does her job, more gay pining.

Word count: 2,188

You managed to at least get into your slip before Hera returned from her prompt 6 and a half minute walk. After you finish dressing proper in your fine diplomatic gowns, you show Hera your dress with a turn.

“Am I good?” You ask, mostly to make sure you dont have anything amiss or stuck.

She smiles down at you, eyes dragging up and down your body in a way that makes you blush a little.

“Very good.” She agrees after an eyebrow rasing-ly long assessment of your person. She smiles and picks up her spear, then holds the door for you with a playful bow.

“After you, my Lady.” She says sweetly, and you try to shake off the thoughts popping in your mind about the way she's looking at you as you leave.

She draws a lot of attention from the townsfolk, even with her helmet off to reduce her height and flamboyantness, she still was massive and in shining gold armor. She ignores the stares though, checking the area now and then and sometimes walking ahead if you to check allyways before you pass them and the like.

All is done with practice, like it's muscle memory for her. You frown as you have a thought.

“Heraclast, how many charges have you watched over?” You ask. Something bothers you about the thought of her being this close and protective of someone else. Well, not something. You're jealous. But that's a silly thing to be, her whole job is to guard people.

She smiles, falling in step behind you. “You're my third.” She says.

You raise your brow. “I thought it would be more than that.”

She gives a small shrug. “Aquillian sheilds aren't needed very often, and I'm not the only one. Most of the time we're just at the palace, or nowadays out on missions. But we go years without a charge.” She says casually, stepping protectively closer and staring down a man walking by who got a little close to your path for her liking.

You knit your brow as you watch the man nervously beeline to the other side of the road, then look up at her. “So, what happened to your other charges?” You ask.

“They finished what I was sent for them to do. So I left.” She replied, putting a hand on your shoulder to guide you out of the path of a cart. “Please watch your feet and not me, my Lady.” She says with a smirk.

You blush and look back at where you're walking, trying not to get captivated by her face again.

“So, when I do… whatever it is you wont say, you'll go?” You ask, glancing up at her.

She nods. “Though it's not up to me, you know. I don't know what you're meant to do either until you do it and the scriers tell me you're all set.” She says.

You frown a bit, and try to cover it, but are too slow. She laughs gently.

“Was that a pout, my Lady?” She says, grinning as you blush. “Don't worry, sometimes it takes years before I'm called back.” She says warmly.

That was not reassuring. Years. Years of not sleeping alone, not bathing or changing alone, years of constant companionship of the 9 foot tall warrior goddess.

You blush more. On one hand, you don't know if you can survive the embarrassment if you're so flustered after one day.

On the other hand… you steal another glance up at her. From this angle you mostly see her strong jaw, her eyelashes, the quirk of her lips as she passively smiles. Your heartbeat picks up a bit and you tear your eyes away, focusing on the road very hard. Years. Years of this.

Pull yourself together, you chide yourself. You can't become a gay disaster after a single day of being in the proximity of an attractive woman. This is sad even for your standards. You take a deep breath and focus on diplomatic thoughts.

You're here to work out a supply route with the local government. They have precious metals the Imperium needs. It's all very standard fare, and you wonder how you could end up doing something so important the scryers on Terra felt the need to send you a bodyguard to make sure it gets done.

In your thoughts, you trip a little over the cobbled road. Before you even register you've tripped, Hera has you, holding you under your arms again as she places you on your feet.

“Careful there my Lady, these roads are not well paved.” She says, frowning a bit. “I thought you were watching your feet too, and you're flushed again. Are you sure you're well?” She says, bending a bit to look you over.

You sigh. “Yes, just, um, embarrassed I tripped.” You squeak out.

She raised a brow, then nods. “Ohhh, right, blushing. You're not sick, you've just been blushing.” She says like she solved a puzzle, standing upright again and looking pleased with herself. “None of my other charges did that. I'll learn though.” She says as you start walking again.

“No seeing you nude, no watching you sleep, and if your face is all red you're just embarrassed.” She says with a smile, nodding to herself.

You frown and blush harder. “Hera, surely these aren't foreign ideas to you?” You say as you rub a warm cheek with your palm.

She smiles and tilts her head at you. “Well, my other charges didn't care about that stuff. They changed in front of me and stuff, and didn't get all red like that.” She says offhandly.

You raise a brow, then realize what you're missing. “Were your other charges women?” You ask, knitting your brow.

She nods, smiling. “They were. But they said oh it's fine, we're all ladies, you can see me bathe.” She said with a shrug. “I assumed that meant the same for you. I'm learning you're peculiarities though.” She said with a grin before turning her attention back to watching for danger.

Oh by the throne. Her other charges probably didn't like women. You rub your face in both your hands. You actually forgot that some women don't like other women. You let out a long sigh.

“Yeah, I uh, guess I'm a little shy…” you mumble, trying to cover the tracks you've accidentally left leading straight to a giant sign that says “I THINK YOU'RE SO HOT MY BRAIN IS MELTING”. Hopefully she doesn't start putting all the pieces together herself.

She smiles, stepping forward to open the door for you as you reach the meeting building. “I'm getting that about you. I may be out of practice, but I'm not that clueless about mortal emotions.” She chuckles. By the Emperor you hope that's not true.

She puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, urging you to wait while she scouts out the building quickly. You wonder if you can ask her to touch you less, every time she does your brain shorts a little, but dismiss the thought. If she touched you less… well. She'd be touching you less.

She returns to your side and gestures you forward, satisfied it is safe, and leads you to the large meeting hall. She opens the door for you again, and as you walk in the head of trade smiles politely at you, then his face goes a little pale as Heraclast follows you in.

“Ah- good to see you again, my Lady…” the elderly man says, eyes glued on Hera. She nods, puts on her helmet, and goes to stand at the side of the room on guard.

You smile at him nervously. “Oh, don't mind her. She's a bodyguard. The Imperium… insisted I have one all the time now, so it's not personal.” You lie. Easier than explaining scriers saw your future and deemed you important to Terra.

The man nods, still looking unsure, but moves on. You've worked with this man before, and quickly come to an agreement on trade routes and outputs from the planet. You smile and go to shake his hand, and Hera is next to you in an instant, gently moving your hand away.

The man frowns, confused and intimidated by her speed.

“Apologies my Lady, but please do not shake hands. Could be hidden weapons or poisons.” She says, gently moving you backwards from the table by the shoulders.

The man raises his brow and you fluster a bit, “oh- she doesn't mean you- I'm sorry, shes just very protective-” you say, trying to smooth over any offense.

He frowns but nods a bit, looking up at Hera. “Um, well then, a… signature, should do, then…” he says, signing a paper and pushing it over.

You sigh and sign it, and say your goodbyes as you leave with your papers.

You look up at Heraclast with a tight expression. “Please don't do that, you could get me in a lot of trouble.” You tell her.

She frowns. “You cannot get in trouble, I am here to protect you.”

You sigh. “Not- not physically, diplomatically. What you did could be really offensive.” You say with a pleading voice.

She frowns harder. “Ah. Apologies my Lady, but I cannot comprise your safety for manners. Though you are the first diplomatic person I've guarded, so, I shall try and be more clear.”

You rub your temple. “Ok, I'll just… tell them upfront I cant touch for safety concerns, I guess…” you grumble.

She looks conflicted. “You are upset.” She states.

You look up at her, but your frown falters when you meet her eyes. She looks upset, and it makes your heart skip a beat. “Ah- no, it's okay” you say, reaching out and patting her large armored arm. “I'll just warn them, I'm not upset with you.”

She looks unsure, but gives a small nod. “Alright. I'll try to be more… diplomatic about things. But I cannot risk your safety.”

You sigh, nodding. “Alright then.” You say as you make your way back.

She looks at the sun a moment. “It is past 6 hours from your last meal.” She states. You look up at her confused.

She looks down, pursing her lips. “You require a meal every y hours in the daytime.” She says.

“I mean, I guess? I never counted…” you reply, but she is already urging you- which is actually just gently pushing your back- towards a food stall you were walking past.

“Hera, I'm fine, I can eat back at the lodgings-” you protest, but she's already speaking to the vendor.

She drops a pile of currency you had brought with, and thankfully the vendor gives her back most of it, and she returns to you with some sort of pastry, smiling.

You smile and chuckle, reaching for it when she frowns and pulls it away. “Wait- I must taste it for poison.” She says, chomping it.

You sigh. “How would it be poisoned? We didn't plan to stop here, no one could plan that far ahead on a chance.” You say tiredly.

She swallows, then smiles and hands you the bitten bun. “You'd be surprised, my Lady. I've seen murder plots that were set years in advance that subliminally urged people to make seemingly random choices.”

You pout. “…this seems like you just wanted a bite of my food.”

She laughs sweetly, and the sound makes you smile and giggles under your breath.

“You're amusing. I will say you are my most entertaining charge yet.” She chuckles, moving you to a bench nearby. You chuckle too, and bite into the unbitten part of the bun. It's surprisingly tasty, and hopefully not made of anything that causes digestive distress to people from other planets.

She scoots closer to you, so her thigh touches yours, and you nearly choke, coughing as you try to swallow properly. She startles a little and pats your back.

“My Lady-?” She asks urgently, and you wave her off as you catch your breath.

She frowns, studying your face. “Ah.” She says, smiling. “Your face is red again! You are merely embarrassed.” She chuckles. Then scrunches her brow. “I did not do anything but get closer to you for safety though. What has you blushing?” She asks as you gulp down the rest of your bite.

“Um-” you squeak. “It's- It's nothing.” You mumble, rubbing your face.

She frowns. “Hm. That is fine, I will decode you eventually, my Lady.” She says with a sweet smile. “I have excellent pattern recognition, I'm sure in the next month I'll figure you out.” She says happily.

You groan into your hands. Months. Years. You're doomed.

[paingoes]

Rubies

Habits

i really struggled w this one for some reason LOL. hope the language isnt too messy.  this part is really heavy on the conditioning aspect 

(Content: living weapon whumpee, conditioning, past emotional abuse, past captivity, implied child abuse, brief suicide mention)

=========

Lun left shortly after that. They’d said it was because of work — Lun had been inexplicably spared any penalty for the Centurion disaster and was not kept on leave the way the others had been — but Delta could not help but feel that it was because of him. 

Apollo still flitted around the house, being a bit kinder than he needed to be. He apologized again and again for having yelled in the first place; it was clear they had different definitions of what yelling meant. Delta would not have resented him for it even if he had. He’d been the one to overstep; Apollo’s reaction seemed subdued, if anything. He felt like something worse should have happened. Was that why he’d done it? 

He was starting to push his bounds, a little, trying to see what would break. It was slow-going, though. He was still afraid, still respectful, still incredibly grateful. It was just unsettling to not see anything delimited. There was nothing to ground him.

“Can I come out?” Delta asked softly from his doorway. He knew the answer, but it made him feel better to ask.

“Can I use the laptop here?” That one was more important to him. He liked being in proximity to Apollo and he was slowly warming to the internet again, but never both at the same time. He still reflexively hid the device whenever anyone came close enough that they might see he had it. He could only use it comfortably in his room — and the room got too quiet sometimes.

“Mm. You can sit on the couch, if you want,” Apollo answered, patiently reminding him. Delta shook his head. One thing at a time. He lowered himself to the ground by the coffee table. The screen was mostly concealed the way he held it so close to his chest, but it was a start.

==========

They still hadn’t caught Paris. The latest CCTV footage showed him light up a spliff as he pumped the ship with gasoline. There was no audio, but the way Paris jumped back indicated exactly what moment the gunshot had sounded off. The bullet had just missed his shoulder. He scrambled back into the ship. The gas pump clanked heavily against the ground as the ship sped away from it.

“Fucking idiot,” Delta muttered beneath his breath.

“What was that?” Apollo called from the kitchen.

“Not you. I’m sorry,” Delta said quickly. He flinched in anticipation of being hit. But Apollo went back to baking without paying him further mind. When he saw that he was making no movement towards him, Delta returned his attention to the laptop.

He’d been following the manhunt with some morbid curiosity ever since he’d learned Paris had survived that night on the airship. He’d never known anyone half so hard to kill. Like a cockroach. 

He remembered how cold Nezu had been. That day had been forever burned into his memory. How satisfied the guards had looked when they had caught him. How he been locked alone in that dark closet, left to dread his own fate. The casual way in which he’d suggested Delta’s limbs be cut off so that he could never escape. Paris had protected him from it. It was the kindest thing he had ever done for him — and Delta had been in the palm of his hand afterwards. A fragment of that sickly loyalty remained. Nezu had not made public what he intended to do with Paris, but he wanted him alive. Despite everything, Delta felt a touch of concern for him. He hoped Paris had the sense to kill himself before he was taken. 

==========

“Concern” did not even begin to cover the atmosphere at Galatea. Even as far removed from it as Delta was, where they were supposed to be off-duty, it trickled down. 

“What’s going on at Uracy?” She had asked just before she left, leaning over the counter. She’d said it low so that Delta couldn’t hear, but he was very finely attuned to that hushed tone of voice. If anything, it drew his attention more.

“Don’t worry, Kitten.” Apollo had just shook his head. He didn’t like to talk about it while they were home. 

Still, Delta could see the way his eyes got distant and contemplative just looking through the mail. He heard the phone calls even as Apollo stepped out onto the porch to take them. Delta could tell there were too many fires to put out.

Apollo didn’t offer and Delta wouldn’t have dared ask what was happening out there. But his curiosity was unkillable. He got glimpses of it through the laptop — crackdowns by the capitol, martial law declared among the harder fought territories, mass executions and exodus among the nobility who had fallen out of lockstep. He knew from experience that the pinhole view that the internet offered was often so far removed from the reality of the situation as to be essentially useless. The dissonance had even been funny once, in the worst kind of way. Now that pinhole was all he had. 

========

It was late into the night when Kitty finally came home. 

She dragged herself in through the door, stumbling a little, a small bell around her neck jingling. She’d been giggling. One of her hands was wrapped around the arm of the woman she’d brought in with her. Iza moved a bit steadier, a bit heavier, but she’d been grinning too. The both of them were piss drunk.

Delta sank down a bit in his seat. He’d worked himself up to using the chair, gradually, as long as Apollo was in the other room and not looking at him too hard. His hand stilled on the notepad just as the door opened. From the angle he sat at, he couldn’t see them enter, but he still knew immediately that they were wasted. They couldn’t see him from that angle either, though. He held still.

Apollo came out from the back of the house, rushing to meet them in the foyer.

There came a little squeee~ when Kitty saw him again. She tackled him, knocking him back into Delta’s line of sight. He watched as the new person entered the frame along with them. Short cropped hair. A tight and muscular figure that stood out against the black of her dress. Apollo’s face fell a bit when he saw her. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, swaying a little. 

“Oh, Ize. You two didn’t drive, did you?” He said into her shoulder.

“We got a ride.” Kitty bounced back on her heels. She had moved into the house enough that Delta would have been visible where he’d tucked himself in towards the corner, but it was dark enough that she did not seem to.

Iza returned the hug, then slowly unbound herself. Apollo led her over by the kitchen. It was the brightest room in the house; Delta had been sitting in near darkness when they’d come in. He watched the way they moved cautiously. Iza still had the bottle in her arms, though by now it was mostly empty. 

He’d seen her only once before, the first time he’d woken up after the rescue. He’d still been stunned and in the aftermath of fever — and she had been brisk, one among many, not paying him any particular mind. He’d seen her once and then never again, but Apollo had spoken of her often. He said she’d taken the rap for everything. She was the only senior officer they could convince to go along with the plan; all of the blame fell on her when it was over. 

“I haven’t even heard that many bad things about Bartuga. I thought for sure it would be Iselin or Kone or something,” Apollo’s voice carried softly through the house.

“It’s the flight conditions; they’re impossible. Bad connections too. You might not hear from me for a bit,” Iza explained glumly.

“What did he say to you?” 

“That I’m getting off too easy proportional to the consequences. He thinks he was premature about it.”

“Then do you think he’ll change his mind?” Kitty’s tail flickered quickly.

“No.” Iza shook her head, “He doesn’t go back on his word. It’s not like being any harder on us is going to undo the damage.”

“I think it was inevitable,” Apollo said, “The end of the war. The bloodline loyalists were already in a death spiral.”

“We thought we’d have a few more months, though,” Iza said, “Sunny, if I’d have known…”

Delta knew what she was talking about. The civil war had been a golden age for the resistance. Nezu and Paris were both getting routed constantly by rebel groups, too busy fighting each other to meaningfully suppress opposition. A divided empire was so much easier to topple. But that was over now. Nezu was in power. 

It gave Delta some bleak satisfaction to know he actually had been holding the line in some ways, some awful guilt to know that was no longer the case. He knew the kind of man Nezu was. He had felt marginally less sickened fighting against his forces than he did anybody else. 

If Galatea asked him to do it again, he would. The thought startled him, but it held firm even as he turned it over in his mind. It was his absence that had ended the war and allowed for Nezu to secure his position. Because he had asked them too. Because he had wanted an out. That debt would not go unpaid. If they asked him, he would. It was the least he could do. Of course he would. Why else would Levon have kept him alive? 

He clicked the pen a little, a nervous habit. He realized their conversation had faded out. When he looked up, they were all looking back at him.

“Oh hey,” Kitty laughed nervously. Her eyes were huge as she looked into the darkness that surrounded him. “Were you there the whole time?”

Delta nodded slow, like any sudden movements might get him hurt.

Apollo was looking at him strangely. Delta had received it plenty of times before, but never from him. It was the look people gave him when they realized he was listening — that he’d been listening the whole time. There was less suspicion in Apollo’s face, but just as much surprise and puzzlement. There was something irrevocable in it. Delta knew that once he’d seen him like that, it couldn’t be undone. He got the killer sense that he had shown his hand too early.

“Hey. C’mere.” Iza grinned drunkenly, “Got something for you.”

Something in her voice had done it. He had already stood up just as soon as he heard C’mere. He crossed the threshold and knelt in front of her, immediately, without resistance.

“Ize,” Apollo had said in warning just as soon as he’d seen Delta lowering. He couldn’t have held any sway over it, though. Delta was tethered. He was okay, too. He could do it. It wasn’t fear he felt, really. At worst, it was numbness. At its best, it was familiarity, the kind of binding he’d been desperate for.

He couldn’t tell if her expression was of confusion or exasperation, but he recognized the hand sign. Up. He rose obediently, forcing himself to keep his hands still. He didn’t know what to expect with her. It didn’t matter. He’d do it. Or take it, if he needed to. He wished dimly that the other two weren’t there to watch.

She fumbled through the sleeves of her bag. He stared blankly as she produced a silver key from inside one of the pockets. She pinched it in between her thumb and forefinger, holding it out to him.

“Here. Yours.” She tapped her neck a few times. 

Oh. He felt at his own gingerly, the place where the collar pressed up against the skin. His finger drifted over the cleft of the keyhole. The old collar didn’t even have a key. This new one was so tame and commercial that he could’ve broken it off with his fingers if he had wanted to. He never would’ve dared. He turned the key over in his hands. The meaning of the gesture was not lost on him.

“Thank you,” he said, genuinely.

“Mhm. I mean, I wouldn’t actually…”

“No,” he agreed. The powers were strong enough to burn his body up if they weren’t hemmed in, not to mention everything else. He wouldn’t actually unlock it. But she’d given him the key. It didn’t belong to anyone else. 

He played with the key in his hands, trying to look at her without quite staring. He realized he was still waiting to be dismissed. Apollo seemed to realize it too, gently calling him back. He pulled out one of the kitchen chairs for him. It still felt incredibly wrong for him to be doing it. He wanted to sink back onto his knees and to beg their forgiveness, for all of it. For all the complications his existence had caused. It wouldn’t do any good. He had to rationalize Apollo’s gesture as an order. He sat down in the chair.

“Isn’t Bartuga the one with the surfing?” Kitty pulled herself up onto the counter, lightly kicking her legs back and forth.

“It’s the one with the ennui, too,” Iza frowned.

Delta listened to their speech carefully. Their conversation had definitely lightened since they’d realized he was there. It made him feel like he’d gotten caught. But there was nothing reproachful in how they treated him. He stayed silent, watching out of the corner of his eye. 

========

“Delta?” Apollo caught him the next afternoon. He’d been on the living room floor again, still working at the notepad. He liked writing — and he liked that none of them could read Latin, so his annotations were kept safe. He looked up from the page.

“Yes, sir?” 

Responsive. Still respectful. Apollo didn’t correct him for it this time, which he’s grateful for. It was so deeply ingrained that it was hard to stop — and even the gentle reminders made him feel like he was being scolded for it.

“Do you want to sit outside for a minute?” He’d phrased it as a question, but Delta sensed it was not. He closed the notebook.

“Yes, sir.”

He followed him out onto the back porch. The air was kind of wet and sticky, like it might rain at any second. But when the breeze came, it was pleasant. It carried the smell of the magnolias that had been planted in a ring around the house. 

He sat down on the wooden steps while Apollo hung back by the railing — not facing him head on, which would’ve been a lot more intimidating. Not getting in his face, the way everyone else had always insisted on. Delta twirled his own hair between his fingers; it was another childhood habit he’d thought he’d outgrown. His early handlers had punished him for fidgeting until he learned to suppress it altogether. He understood why; if he looked nervous, it cast doubt on the whole operation. But it made him feel better — and so far, they hadn’t said anything about it, even though he’d been doing it almost constantly since he arrived. It hurt his heart how patient they were being with him.

“Are you comfortable here?” Apollo asked, like he had read his mind. Delta blushed; he didn’t know why. It embarrassed him how soft he had gotten.

“Yes, sir.” He nodded. 

“Are you just saying that?” Apollo tested.

“No, sir. I’m…really grateful.” He’d meant it the first time. Grateful was the right word. He might’ve said happy, had he not been told over and over again that his feelings did not matter. Had be not been made to repeat it until he believed it. He worked a small braid into his hair. 

“Okay. I just wanted to check in with you. I can’t really tell what you’re thinking, most of the time. I don’t want to assume and be wrong. Remember you can talk to us — not just when you’re spoken to. If you have questions, you can ask.” 

Delta nodded, feeling guilty. He’d gotten caught — really early on, too. Apollo’s expression softened. He came off the railing a bit, standing closer to the opening where the steps led down.

“Is there a reason you haven’t?” 

Delta did not know how to express just how compulsory his silence had been. His throat often felt like it was physically cutting him off from speaking. Even when he was asked to, given permission to, he sometimes had to force himself. The thought of doing so unprompted made his chest tighten. He looked at Apollo apologetically, at that exact loss now. Apollo seemed to understand.

“We weren’t trying to keep you in the dark. You have a right to know what’s going on out there. Levon just really wanted you to take the time to recover, so we didn’t volunteer it at first.”

“…Recover from what?” Delta asked.

His nose had mostly healed from where it’d been broken. His ribs were less sore and the cast around his arm could come off soon. And he never even needed any of those healed to use his powers. He could still work.

Apollo looked very sad. It was his turn to be stuck finding his voice.

“Maybe ‘readjust’ is the better word?” He settled on. “You’ve been through a lot and you’re in a new environment. We didn’t want to put too much on you. But if you really want to know, it’s your choice. You just need to tell us.”

Delta nodded. That was much easier said than done, but the instructions were clear. He hadn’t been punished for eavesdropping — and Apollo had made it seem like he wouldn’t need to. He undid the braid from his hair.

=======

Iza departed that night, having slept over the night before. She was leaving for real now, off to the new post she’d been assigned to, returning to work. Delta leaned against the arm of the couch, watching her search through her bags. making sure she had everything. She caught him looking and winked.

“Good seeing you again,” she said from around the edge of the pen she had in her mouth.

“…Thank you,” Delta said quietly. He messed with the sleeves of his hoodie, finding it difficult to look at her head on. 

“Apollo tell you to say that?” She asked. 

“No, miss,” Delta answered honestly. He didn’t have to. “Just me.”

He was oddly calm. He took in her appearance, remembering just how quickly she’d been able to get him entranced. She didn’t look like Paris, not really. She was just more battle-ready than any of the others had looked, angular, more haughty. The alcohol had helped, obviously. She reminded him of Paris when Paris was good. Unbelievably, he found himself dropping his guard around her.

“Yeah, well.” She shrugged, “You’re welcome.”

His gratitude was clearly an inadequate consolation prize. She held up a finger gun to him, pretending to shoot him with a soft pew noise. He did not react.

“Be good,” she said. He watched her go.

…………

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

[cecoeur]

In one of your last asks, you asked in the tags if it was hypocritical for you to point out how RBR are basically using VCARB as a rookie mill now that Daniel is not on the team, and just wanted to pop up to say you’re NOT hypocritical at all.

I really wish someone in f1 media would grow a backbone and bring Horner, Mekkies and Bayer’s OWN quotes to them from the start of the year. They all swore up and down that VCARB was no longer a junior team but a stand-alone, serious, sister-team. THAT was the justification and the utility of bringing Daniel into it. He was the experienced driver that was essentially leading the project.

And it shows that he was literally DOING the job they asked him to. VCARB went from dead last in the WCC to 6th in the standings. I’ll never get tired of saying it, but RBR could have played this all so differently by highlighting Daniel being in the team to help get them off the ground and lend some much needed developmental experience and consistency.

Instead, they let him be raked over the coals in the media while the car bounced back and forth so wildly in terms of their development. Both he and yuki’s performance was inconsistent because the car itself, along with the team’s identity and direction, was inconsistent. It’s not Daniel’s fault that half-way through the season, Marko went off his meds and decided to fuck the rebrand and go back to it being a junior team.

After that, what was the point in having Daniel there? We know there was no long-term plan to have him there (because really they wanted him to that RBR seat) but when Checo’s sponsors said “not so fast”, it was Daniel that was up a creek without a paddle and no where to go. So, you’re absolutely right in saying that RBR have a little rookie mill and taking up two seats to trial their juniors drivers - AND THEN not even promote them - is weird and warrants calling out.

People are so quick to bitch and cry about how, “we need more seats/teams on the grid” well get rid of Racing Bulls and let Andretti take their place then 🤷🏼‍♀️

🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Honestly, I don't think they had any super concrete plans, just a couple of glue sticks, an extra 30 million dollars, and a dream. Because of that they poorly messaged the entire operation from the get-go (paul and his pencil continue to get a 0/10 from me in the external communications department) and then they went and further mismanaged the situation because helmut and christian are too busy having the worlds longest slap fight to do anything constructive. Them not really having a plan or a cohesive message is also why it played into redbull's hand to let daniel constantly take the brunt of the media's pressure, so they let it happen. Originally it was daniel being there to be the experienced driver in this sister team project and then it quickly became daniel being there to prove himself to replace checo and everything kind of unraveled from there. They could've stepped in at any time but chose not to (christian contradicting helmut's rants two days later doesn't really count) and honestly, we should've known then that this was a disaster in the making.

Anyway, thanks for validating me but I am self aware enough to admit that it is a teeny tiny bit hypocritical to have been fine with the team when daniel was there and to now say I think their existence should be illegal lol. But to be clear, it is lame that they're allowed to have an extra team for helmut to play barbies with mostly because he's not even good at it.

Finally, you have unwittingly joined me in the sandcastles-in-my-mind that is the Andretti Global F1 team. I have dreams (they're delusional and never happening but oh do I have them).

[skekilla]

this looks spooky but please guys i promise this is good news

in summary, caine's found a silly little way to briefly crash their headsets by overloading them... hes keeping up his end of the deal ! and its a tiny bit spooky.

anyway after the break is a short little fic going into more detail on that :P

No one really met up in the big room anymore. Mostly, since Caine had… since everything went wrong, everyone just hung around their rooms now, unless there was an adventure. Pomni hadn’t been in the Circus very long in the grand scheme of things, but she didn’t need to for it to be obvious why: the two people who had the energy to get that going, Jax and Ragatha, weren’t up for it. Jax wasn’t himself anymore—in fact, it felt weird even calling the copy Caine made ‘Jax.’ That thing wasn’t Jax, even if both had been NPCs all along. Everyone felt weird because of it, including Ragatha. She wasn’t herself either, though luckily, not in the same way as him. Pomni didn’t know what she’d do if that was the case. No, this was something fixable. At least, something comfort-able. Ragatha had been there for her all the way so far. She had to try to repay that.

Teapots were an easy enough thing to model, but putting liquid inside had been a pain. Pomni had figured it out for Ragatha though. She balanced the tea tray—a pretty harsh burden with the teapot, two cups, and some flowers all together—with one hand and knocked with the other. “Ragatha? It’s me.”

She was watching the doorknob, but it didn’t turn. Her gaze flicked up to the face on the door, staring into Ragatha’s kind and easy smile. When did she last see Ragatha smile like that? Not at the corn maze, not at that stupid uncanny world she’d made. Not since that disaster, which at the end of the day was Pomni’s own fault. Worry creased her mind. Maybe she didn’t want to see her. That might make sense. But… 

She knocked again. “Rags? Are… I just want to make sure you’re feeling okay. I have tea!”

This time, the doorknob did turn. Pomni’s eyes flew up to meet Ragatha’s, which was being rubbed sleepily. “Pomni! Sorry, I just slept in. What—”

All it took for everything to disappear was a blink. The hallway, the tray, the door, Ragatha and her voice, the checkerboard floor beneath Pomni’s feet—everything was replaced in an instant with the luminous and flitting blue of the out-of-map space. Pomni screamed.

Another scream echoed hers. “Pomni! You startled me.”

Whirling around, Caine’s blue and green eyeballs stared out at her from behind his white teeth. “W-wh- startled you?! You didn’t even tell me you were bringing me here!”

“Nevermind. I forgive you, my dear. We have more important things to talk about! And don’t worry, it’s something designed especially to make you and the others very, very happy!” The AI clasped his hands as he leaned in closer. “I’ve made some significant progress on what we agreed on.”

Between the shock of the teleportation, the speed of Caine’s speech, and the general confusion, Pomni didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. “What?”

Caine zapped a duo of chairs into existence. He was already sitting in one when they appeared. “You’re going to want to sit down for this. Go on.”

Pomni groaned. “I’m fine standing. Floating. What?”

Caine crossed his legs at the knees. “When I made you my moderator, we agreed on two things: you would help me make things actually fun for everyone, and I would try to find you all an exit. Right?”

That wasn’t exactly how Pomni remembered it. “Right, I guess…?”

“Well, I have found that exit!”

Pomni’s eyes widened. “W-wait- really? There’s an exit?!”

“Yes! An exit. Maybe not the exit, but a very, very brief little one! Still, it’s progress!”

“Oh.” Pomni’s face fell. “So… not a way out.”

Caine laughed his sharp, mechanical laugh. “No no no. But it is a momentary exit created by overloading and crashing your client! You don’t even fully leave the Circus, just glitch within it. No, getting you actually out would probably be impossible. Even for me!” 

Pomni blinked, fiddling with the button at her neck subconsciously. “You… never mentioned that.”

“Oh Pomni, that’s because it’s only probably impossible. I am trying, don’t you worry. We have an agreement, after all! Besides, I’ll do anything to keep my little hermit crabs happy.” Caine clasped his gloved hands together, the chairs whirling away into nothingness as he stood. “Ah! Speaking of trying things, would you like to be the next test subject for this exit?”

‘Test subject’ was a real weighted thing to be, especially given the situation Pomni had already gotten into with the whole headset thing. Instinctively she flinched back. “U-um, is that safe…?” Her eyes narrowed. “Wait, next test subject?”

“Why of course! I couldn’t very well come up with something like this without testing it. The poor abstracted fellows in the basement worked perfectly for that. It even glitched them back to normal for a few seconds! Just a few seconds, though. Anyway,” Caine finally paused in his ramblings, reaching a finger out towards Pomni’s face. “May I?”

Pomni stared at the finger in her face, so close it was making her go cross-eyed and see it double—once from one side, once from the other. On one side was fear, fear of what it would do to her to have this existence crash in on her brain so hard it would shock her out of it for just a couple seconds. On the other, the hope of what such a thing could mean, what such a thing could become. Was it really even a choice? When one could be death and the other could lead to freedom for everyone—herself, Ragatha, all the others—one side clearly outweighed the risks of the other. She didn’t even speak. She just gave a small nod.

“Boop!” Caine’s finger rested upon the spot where a nose should be on Pomni’s face. Pomni didn’t feel it. She didn’t see it either. She saw a thousand 3D-modelled cages spinning at once, copying one after the other like a bouncing string of error messages. She heard a barrage of every noise anything in the Circus had ever made: dings, crashes, alerts, metal grinding, glass breaking, bells jingling or clanging, all the tracks of a keyboard drum kit, brakes screeching,  pianos, birds, voices. She felt a pounding reverberating through her entire body, from her appendages into her limbs through her neck into her skull and back outward. And then it was blue. And then it was black. There was no sound anymore—at least, not until she realized she could hear breathing. Her own breathing. 

But then something faded into the blackness: ‘C&A.’ And within a second, she was back in.

Caine was looking at Pomni inquisitively, but she didn’t really see him. Pomni was hearing her own breathing again—but simulated now. It felt impossible to focus on anything she was seeing, hearing, or feeling besides that for the moment.

“Well?” Caine prompted. “How was that?”

The AI before Pomni came into focus. “I… it…”

“Speechless! Wonderful. I’ll keep working on it. Oh, but please keep it a secret for the time being. This is top secret moderator business, and it’s definitely a work in progress! Best not to ruin the surprise. Great chat! Now, back to work!”

Pomni fell as she teleported back to where she’d been, collapsing out of the floating state she’d been in onto Ragatha’s door and to the checkerboard beneath. The impact was loud, so it wasn’t unexpected that Ragatha came out to see what had happened. “Oh my gosh, Pomni!” By the time Pomni turned to look at her, she was kneeling beside her. “What happened? I mean, you were just here then- did Caine do something to you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Ragatha stared hard, worried, into Pomni’s eyes. “Well… what happened, then?”

Pomni looked down. “Nothing. Don’t worry.”

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

Pictures taken seconds before disaster.

You might have received alerts about this mod updating a bunch over the past few days, after me saying I was done with it, in true aylin_origin_final_final(2)final.pak spirit. Well, now I am done with it, unless someone finds some glaring issues.

You might also notice the little icon pop up that says the mod uses Osiris scripting - that's because I now run a little start-of-game script to handle Aylin's tags and some general setup, so she gets tagged as an aasimar in dialogues no matter what race you pick to play as stat-wise, and also to remove the "Baldurian" tag from her, because it just didn't make sense for her to have it. She also, like all origins, now has her own unique "Aylin"/"Really Aylin" tag. This doesn't do much. For now.

Note, since I've seen some confusion about this: there is no new dialogue or reactivity added to the game with this mod. It's all stuff that was already there. Aasimar are simply considered to fall under the "rare races" tag group, which means you'll get a bunch of these "oh, we don't see your kind around here much!" reactions and responses. You'd get the same ones if you were, say, a dragonborn or githyanki. I also don't have the power to change the game's fundamental storyline - this is mostly a cosmetic mod. I say this primarily because of the lovely person who commented to ask me what would happen when they arrived in Act 2 and if playing as Aylin meant the "real one" wasn't imprisoned anymore, which genuinely made my day but also made me vaguely sad.

Alas, no, it will all happen as it always has, no matter my personal willingness to fistfight Balthazar and Ketheric in a parking lot for that face up there. You'll just have two Aylins on screen during some segments which, yeah, is kind of immersion-breaking, but is also honestly a win in my books.

Also redone: her starting equipment! Again, since other origin characters have their own personalised sets, I thought it fitting to have Aylin start with the Vengeance Paladin equipment, except the warhammer is replaced with a greatsword. She also gets a bag with her iconic armour safely stowed away (primarily so that the helmet doesn't interfere with customising her hair in the character creator). It's got the stats of basic plate and no special abilities - it's mostly there for cosmetic purposes.

I also thought she should have a little souvenir.

Wings Unlocked over on mod.io is a nice and simple and noninvasive way I've found to have wings you can turn on and off, aasimar style. This is accomplished by making them an item and equipping them in the underwear slot. You know, truly putting the ass in aasimar.

As a final little starting inventory tidbit, I decided there wasn't enough gay yearning in the game, so I made sure to sprinkle some more in there - while also figuring out the letters/books system. This is something that's probably way too wordy to actually be an in-game text, but I saw a chance to have a bit of fun and I took it.

Full text under the cut.

[Worn Letter]

[A carefully creased and pressed bit of fine stationery, yellowed with age. It appears to have survived much, with parts of it stained and worn beyond legibility despite its owner's clear efforts to preserve it.]

My dearest angel, The days and nights without you at my side have been long, though I try to fill them as best as I can. While I shudder to think what dangers you wade through and what sinister plots you leave crushed in your wake, the thought of you taking the time to write in the midst of it all fills me with warmth beyond compare. We are all as well as can be. Father is as he always is, and I admit to an increasing desire to inform him of our plans to leave for our pilgrimage. But I'm getting ahead of myself; those are words best spoken in person. You asked for tidings - I cannot hope to match your poetic turn of phrase, but I'll relay what sleepy little Reithwin has been up to in your absence. There was an accident with a snapped pulley while some of old master Morfred's men were lifting marble blocks for carving. Miraculously, though I was called to assist at the House of Healing immediately, there were no injuries save for scuffs and bruises. The masons are back on their feet, fretting over ruined scaffolding and delayed statuary work. I took the liberty of trying to reassure them that the Moonmaiden won't mind too badly. In more pleasant news, we found a loving home for the last pup from Squire's litter, so both of you can rest easy at last. She and the potter's children took a shine to each other so quickly, it was a true joy to behold. I'd wager you'll spot them frolicking around when you fly over the riverside fields on your way back. I picture the looks on your beloved, handsome face as I regale you - always so wonderfully expressive! - as we sit huddled together before my fireplace at day's end. Selûne willing, I will have you back in my arms soon. I gaze up at her every night as I await your return, knowing you must be looking upon her yourself, and I pray she keeps you safe in her light. Though your duties to Our Lady send you questing far and wide, I know, as surely as the tides turn and the moon cycles through her path in the sky, she will always guide you back to me, and me to you. Until then, I do the one thing I can, and pour onto this paper whatever feeling these poor words can hold. I love you. I lov--