#but i don't really want to interact with this person

[wbbfannnnnn13]

Motion Sick // Chapter 1

pazzi series

Theme: homoerotic friendship in all it's messy glory... iykyk

A/N: My personal life is a hot mess and I needed to write some therapeutic angst. Not sure where this story is going to go, but it's going to be a slow burn, it'll get better eventually because I'm a hopeless romantic. I just don't know how often I'll update -- might depend on whether you like this or not?

Warnings: cussing

WC: 4.6K

**** Chapter 1 ****

The coffee isn’t working.

Paige knows this not because she’s finished half of it and still feels like her brain is running three seconds behind her body, but because she’s staring into the murky liquid like it holds some kind of cosmic answer, and all it’s doing is making her feel more nauseous. She shifts in the seat, blinking against the way-too-bright lights of the student center, her sweatshirt hood half-draped over her head in an attempt to block out the world.

Regret is a funny thing. It always hits in layers.

First, there’s the easy kind of regret—the kind you can trace back to one stupid choice. She shouldn’t have had that last tequila shot. Or the one before it. Honestly, she probably shouldn’t have gone out at all. But at 8:47 p.m., Amari had sent a text that just said “Thirsty Thursday 😈” and Paige barely hesitated.

She didn’t even respond. Just stood up, grabbed the cleanest jeans off her floor, and smeared on some mascara with the same mechanical energy she used to lace up sneakers before a game. Her limbs moved before her brain could argue. And maybe that was the point—maybe she didn’t want to think too hard about it. About what staying in meant. About how quiet her room had gotten lately. About how it’s easier to make noise than sit with silence.

So she went.

Now it’s 8:43 a.m., and her body feels like it was hit by a bus named Jose Cuervo.

She slumps lower in the armchair, tugging her hood a little tighter, phone glowing dimly in her palm as she scrolls Instagram reels she won’t remember watching. Somewhere in her peripheral vision, someone drops a backpack too hard and her head pulses. Everything feels too loud. Too sharp.

She should be in the gym. Correction: she wants to be in the gym. Correction: she can’t be in the gym.

Not really, anyway.

Her knee aches again, like it always does when she thinks too hard about the way things were supposed to go. It’s not the sharp pain anymore—just this low, nagging throb that lives there now, like a shadow she can’t shake. A ghost of the season she was meant to have. She shifts in the chair, trying to stretch it out, but nothing helps. Not really.

It’s junior year. The year she was supposed to lead. The year they were supposed to run it back, take what almost was and turn it into what should’ve been. She’d played through pain last spring, limping through the tournament with one leg and a lot of adrenaline, and she’d still nearly gotten them there. This year was meant to be the redemption. The banner year. Twelve.

But instead, she’s sitting in the student center at 8:47 a.m., head pounding, sweatshirt wrinkled and smelling vaguely like someone else's perfume—she doesn’t remember who, and she doesn’t care enough to figure it out. Half-hungover. Tired in a way sleep won’t fix. And mad at the world. Or maybe just at herself. She can’t tell the difference anymore.

The scroll continues. Likes. Highlights. People pretending their lives are together.

She thinks about turning her phone off. Maybe skipping class altogether. What’s one more absence in Family Interaction Processes? The idea of sitting in a circle and talking about “attachment theory in parent-child relationships” feels laughable. She can’t even attach to her own future right now.

So yeah. Maybe she just… won’t go.

Then it happens.

The laugh.

It floats in, sharp and sudden, before the doors even fully open. Light and familiar. Too familiar.

Paige’s stomach flips, slow and mean. Her hand freezes mid-scroll.

She doesn’t even have to look to know.

But of course she does.

Her head lifts before she can stop it—eyes flicking toward the entrance on pure reflex.

And there she is. Azzi.

Like the universe knew Paige was already on the verge of spiraling, and thought, you know what would be funny? Let’s really f**k her up today.

There’s a beat—maybe two—where Paige just watches. Where time slows, and everything else in the room goes fuzzy around the edges.

Azzi strolls in like a damn movie scene. Hair pulled back in that effortless way that always drove Paige crazy. UConn warmup hoodie unzipped just enough to reveal the fitted black crop top underneath. Surrounded by a crew of teammates like they’re all just living their best lives on a sunny Friday morning.

And then there’s him.

Derrick Fucking Jones.

Paige’s lip twitches before she can stop it. Of course he’s here. Of course he’s walking beside her—no, with her. Hand in hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like they fit. Like it’s always been him. And Azzi’s smiling—really smiling—like he just said something that made her laugh from the center of her chest.

It looks easy. Simple. The kind of moment you’d catch at the end of a movie, all golden light and soft focus, two people falling into step like it’s meant to be.

And Paige? She’s the one on the outside looking in. The one they cut to for a second too long—the sad ex in the background, watching it all unfold like a scene she was never written into.

Azzi laughs at something he says. The one Paige used to hear at 2 a.m., soft and sleepy, tangled somewhere between sheets and skin and promises they never said out loud. The one she could pull out with the dumbest joke, a look across the room, a meme sent with a single word: you.

And now it’s his. Or at least, it’s being directed at him. Her whole face lights up, dimples and all.

Paige feels the ache like a bruise being pressed. Old and buried, but never healed.

She yanks her hood further down, like maybe if she folds herself into this chair hard enough, they’ll all just walk past her. She’s not in the mood to play catch-up. Or pretend she’s okay. Or fake-smile through a conversation when she’s actively fighting the urge to throw up.

Her phone’s still in her lap, but her fingers have gone numb. Heart climbing somewhere into her throat.

And that’s when it happens—Aubrey spots her.

Of course, it’s Aubrey. Loud, observant, well-meaning Aubrey, who probably didn’t think twice before saying something to the group.

Paige doesn’t have to hear it to know. She sees the slight shift in posture. Aubrey’s arm gesturing. Caroline looking over next. Then Derrick. Then—

Azzi.

Their eyes meet like magnets that forgot how to unstick. And for a second, it’s like Paige forgets how to breathe.

Azzi’s smile fades. Just a flicker. Barely enough to catch unless you were looking for it.

And Paige always is.

There’s too much history in that split-second glance. Too many late nights and drawn-out silences. Too many “what are we?” conversations that circled the truth but never landed. Too much that was never said out loud, and even more that was.

And now all of it lives right there in the space between them.

Unsaid. Unresolved.

Unmistakable.

Paige forces herself to move.

She stands slowly, her knee stiff and unforgiving, throbbing in rhythm with the headache pounding behind her eyes. A full-body reminder of every bad decision she made last night—staying out too late, drinking too much. She grabs her coffee like it’s armor, like maybe it can steady her hands or mask the way she’s unraveling from the inside out. 

She nods once in their direction—cool, detached, like yeah, I see you but we’re not doing this today—and tips the cup toward them in a mock toast.

Then she walks.

Or limps, technically, but she’s trying real hard to make it look like swagger.

As she passes, the space between her and Azzi feels like static. Like the second she crosses the invisible threshold of proximity, the whole world holds its breath.

Azzi looks at her.

Paige looks back.

She wishes she hadn’t.

Azzi’s expression is unreadable, but her eyes are soft. And maybe that’s worse.

Paige doesn’t slow down. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t let herself feel the full weight of the eye contact burning into her back.

She does, however, catch Caroline’s voice—sharp and way too loud:

“Damn. She looks like shit.”

Cool. Thanks for that.

Paige clenches her jaw, ignoring the way her stomach turns again. She tightens her grip on her coffee and pushes through the student center doors like they wronged her personally.

She doesn’t stop walking until she’s out in the cold morning air, hoodie still half on, knee screaming, heart pounding, and the bitter taste of coffee and something much worse lingering at the back of her throat.

Paige exhales a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding in. It’s shaky. Sharp. Cuts through her chest like glass.

She presses a hand to her stomach. Something tight coils low—nausea, regret, grief, shame. Could be all four. Her mouth tastes like acid and disappointment.

Why do I feel like I’m gonna throw up?

Is it the tequila still hanging around like an unwanted party guest? The venti iced coffee churning in her gut like cement? Or is it just—Azzi?

She blinks hard against the sunlight and veers left, scanning frantically for somewhere—anywhere—to get sick without making a scene. Her eyes land on a trash can just outside the library steps.

Barely makes it.

She leans over, hoodie sleeves bunched at her wrists, and throws up everything—coffee, milk, espresso, and whatever fragments of composure she had left. It comes up quick and bitter, and when it’s over, she’s left with her palms braced on the concrete, breathing heavy and eyes stinging.

Perfect. Really killing it today.

“Uh—are you okay?”

A voice. Neutral. Some kid in a beanie, looking mildly alarmed and also deeply unsure of what to do.

“I’m fine,” Paige mutters, wiping her mouth with the inside of her sleeve. “Bad coffee.”

The kid nods slowly, backing away like she might infect him with whatever brand of chaos she’s carrying.

Paige doesn’t blame him.

She stands, barely, and starts walking. Not toward class. Not toward anything productive.

Just… away.

Screw Family Interaction Processes. Screw being seen. Screw this whole damn morning.

Her dorm is too warm when she gets back. Too still. That kind of suffocating quiet that makes your thoughts louder. She peels off her hoodie, kicks off her sneakers, and crawls into bed fully clothed.

Head against the pillow. Eyes closed.

Please. Just an hour of sleep. A pause. A reset.

But her brain—traitor that it is—doesn’t cooperate.

Because of course it doesn’t.

Instead, like a scratched record, her mind queues up the scene she’s watched a thousand times before. Every blink brings it back sharper.

The night everything changed.

Paige turns over in bed, pulling the blanket over her head like it could block the memory out.

But it’s too late.

It’s already started playing.

One Year Ago

The lights inside Ted’s were low, but everything about Azzi still found a way to glow.

Paige leaned against the bar, half-sipping a drink she didn’t really want, the condensation soaking into her hand. The music was loud enough to drown out her thoughts—almost. The kind of bass-heavy, shoulder-to-shoulder chaos that used to feel like escape, but tonight just made her feel stuck. Like she couldn’t breathe right.

She spotted Azzi across the room before she even realized she was looking for her.

Same UConn hoodie. Same easy posture. That half-laugh she only gave to people who didn’t know how complicated she was underneath it all.

And then—him.

Some guy. Tall. Smiling at her like he was winning something. Paige had no idea who he was, and honestly, she didn’t care. All she could focus on was the way Azzi tilted her head back laughing at something he said. The way her hand brushed his arm as if it meant nothing. As if it always meant nothing.

Paige felt it in her chest—tight and sudden.

Not because it was new.

But because it wasn’t.

Because this had become a pattern. Azzi flirting with someone else while Paige watched from the sidelines—again. Because Azzi knew exactly where Paige was in the room and still chose to look right through her.

Her drink hit the bar a little too hard as she set it down, untouched.

No one noticed. Or maybe they did and chose not to say anything.

She pushed off the counter and started moving. Past the line for the bathroom, past the couple making out near the door, past the entire situation she never should’ve walked into in the first place.

And then—

The second the cool night air hit her skin, Paige felt like she might crack wide open.

She stormed out of Ted’s like the place had personally offended her, shoving through the crowd until she hit the sidewalk, breath fast, vision hot. The thrum of bass and clinking glasses still echoed behind her, but out here everything felt sharper—colder. Her hands were shaking.

She didn’t mean to make a scene. Didn’t mean to lose control like that.

But watching Azzi, lit up and laughing, leaning just a little too close to some guy Paige didn’t even recognize, it had knocked the air right out of her. Not because it was new, but because it wasn’t. Because it was the same game, the same script they’d been dancing around since high school, and Paige had finally hit her limit.

She was halfway down the block when the voice hit her.

“Paige?”

That voice.

God.

Azzi.

Of course she followed her.

Paige turned slowly, already regretting it. Azzi stood under the glow of a streetlight, one arm folded across her chest, the other gripping her phone like a lifeline. She looked concerned. Like genuinely worried.

And that made Paige want to scream.

“What?” Paige snapped, sharper than she intended.

Azzi blinked. “I just—saw you leave. You looked upset. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Paige scoffed. “Why? So you can feel better about yourself?”

Azzi flinched like she hadn’t expected that, and honestly, Paige hadn’t either. But the words were coming fast now, her heart racing to keep up with them.

“You don’t get to do this.”

Azzi stepped forward, cautiously. “What are you talking about?”

Paige laughed—sharp, bitter. “Seriously?”

She took a step closer, the emotion bubbling just beneath her skin now, too much to hold in.

“Do you even realize how messed up this is?” she asked, her voice shaking. “One night you’re in my bed like it’s the most normal thing in the world, and the next you’re out here acting like I don’t even exist.”

Azzi’s mouth parted slightly, stunned into silence.

“You hook up with me in secret, act like I’m yours when no one’s watching—and then you go out and flirt with guys like I don’t even fucking exist. You don’t get to be all over me in private and then play straight for the crowd. I’m not your secret. I’m not some backup plan you get to use when it’s easy.”

Azzi doesn’t respond right away.

She just stands there—frozen, blinking like she’s still catching up. Like the words hit her late and hard, like a wave she didn’t see coming until it knocked the air out of her.

Her mouth opens, then closes. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, arms crossed tightly across her chest like she’s trying to hold something in.

And Paige could see it in her eyes—the empathy, the sadness—but also something else. Distance. Like Azzi had already decided this was the only version of them that could exist, and Paige had just never caught on.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” she says quietly. “I swear to God, Paige, I never wanted to hurt you.”

Paige scoffs under her breath, turns half away like she can’t stand to hear it.

Azzi swallows. “I know I’ve been selfish. I know I’ve made this messy and confusing and not fair to you. But I wasn’t trying to use you. I just…”

She trails off, voice cracking on the last word.

Azzi’s voice hangs in the air between them, fragile and trembling. Paige wants to believe her—wants to reach for that version of the truth where none of it was intentional. 

But it doesn’t change what it felt like. What it still feels like.

She shakes her head slowly, the words slipping out before she can stop them.

“I can't keep doing this,” she says, voice rough. “This emotional whiplash. I’m getting motion sickness from it. And I’m exhausted, Azzi. I can’t keep pretending that this—we—doesn’t mess me up.”

Azzi didn’t move. Didn’t argue.

And that—more than anything—was her answer.

“Okay,” she said quietly.

She turned, slow and steady, and walked back toward the bar.

And Paige stood there alone on the sidewalk, chest cracked wide open, watching the one person she wanted most walk away without a fight.

She didn’t chase her.

She couldn’t.

Because this time, Azzi had let her go just as easily as she’d kept her.

Present Day

She blinks back into the dim light of her dorm room like she’s just resurfaced from underwater.

The memory clings to her like humidity—dense, sticky, impossible to shake. It sits in her chest, thick like smoke she can’t cough out, creeping up her throat every time she lets her guard down. Her stomach twists again—not from the hangover, not from the too-sweet coffee still curdling in her system, but from the weight of everything she’s been trying not to feel since that night outside Ted’s. The words she said. The ones she didn’t. The way Azzi looked at her—like she’d broken something that was already cracked and didn’t even know how to begin fixing it.She pulls the blanket tighter over her body, like it might shield her from the past. From herself. From Azzi.

I’m tired of this, Azzi.

She meant it. God, she meant it.

And yet—here she is, a year later, still tired. Still aching. Still wondering what would’ve happened if Azzi had said anything else besides “okay.”

The room feels too still, too quiet. Her hoodie smells like stale bar air and regret. Her phone buzzes somewhere in the sheets, but she doesn’t reach for it. She already knows it’s no one she wants it to be.

Azzi never texts anymore. Not unless it’s something team-related. Logistics. Group chats. Nothing personal. Nothing that says I miss you.

And now she’s walking around campus, hand-in-hand with Derrick fucking Jones, like none of it happened. Like Paige hadn’t handed her every vulnerable part of herself just to be told—okay.

She turns over onto her side, wincing as her knee twinges sharply beneath the blanket. Another lovely souvenir from the universe.

Not playing this season was supposed to feel temporary—just a detour. But watching Azzi from across the student center this morning, laughing like she didn’t feel anything at all, made Paige wonder if she’s the only one who ever thought they were more than a phase.

She stares at the wall, blank and gray and safe.

Paige has always been good at powering through. Rehabbing, recovering, restarting. But this? This emotional limbo? This silent ache every time she sees Azzi across campus, like a ghost of the future she wanted?

She doesn’t know how to push through that.

She exhales slowly and presses the heels of her hands into her eyes until all she sees are stars.

Maybe she should sleep. Maybe she’ll wake up and it won’t hurt as much. Maybe by tomorrow Azzi will just be her ex-best friend with a new boyfriend and Paige will finally start to mean it when she says she’s over it.

Maybe.

But for now, she just lies there.

Wishing she hadn’t looked up in the student center. Wishing she hadn’t left Ted’s that night. Wishing, most of all, that she could forget what it felt like when they still felt like a “what if” instead of a “never.”

Azzi

Azzi shouldn’t have looked.

She knew Paige was there the second Aubrey nodded toward the corner booth. Felt it like static in her chest. Knew it in the same bone-deep way she used to know when Paige was about to pass her the ball—without words, without warning, just felt it.

And still, she looked.

Paige, hood pulled halfway down her face, coffee in hand, eyes dull like she hadn’t slept. Azzi didn’t need the commentary—Caroline muttering “She looks like shit” under her breath—to know how wrecked she was.

Paige had just stood, nodded toward them like they were strangers on a train, and walked off.

But she looked right at her.

That look.

The same look Azzi has tried and failed to forget for months. The one from that night outside Ted’s. The one she sees in her dreams when it’s late and quiet and her chest feels too tight to breathe.

That look still haunts her. Because she remembers what came right before it.

“You don’t get to be all over me in private and then play straight for the crowd. I’m not your secret.”

God.

Azzi swallows hard, still tasting regret behind her teeth. It’s been a year, but sometimes it hits like it was yesterday. The way Paige’s voice cracked. The way Azzi didn’t stop her. Didn’t chase her. Didn’t say what she should’ve said, even if she didn’t fully understand it then.

Even now—especially now—she doesn’t know if it was fear or selfishness that held her back. Probably both.

Derrick squeezes her hand, pulling her back into the present. “You good?”

Azzi blinks, forces a small smile. “Yeah.”

He’s nice. Safe. Predictable. He doesn’t ask too many questions, and he doesn’t make her feel like she’s walking a tightrope with her own feelings. And she knows, somewhere deep down, that she doesn’t love him.

Not like that.

Not the way she—

She cuts off the thought before it finishes.

Not the way she used to look at Paige.

They’re walking into the dining hall now, the fluorescent lights making everything look too sharp. Too sterile. She nods along as Caroline starts talking about practice later, but the words blur. All she can think about is the way Paige looked this morning—like she was barely holding it together. Like seeing Azzi hurt more than she’d ever admit.

And that makes Azzi feel worse than anything.

Because the truth is, she hasn’t stopped thinking about her.

She’s tried.

She filled her time with practice and people and pretending. Tried to let Derrick kiss her and convince herself it didn’t feel wrong. Let herself believe that the silence between her and Paige was necessary. That it was better this way.

But every time she sees her—across campus, on social media, in her dreams—something twists in her chest. Guilt. Longing. All the words she never said and still don’t know how to.

She should’ve said something that night.

Anything besides “okay.”

Because the truth is, Paige wasn’t wrong. She had kept her close when it was convenient. When it was safe. She liked the way Paige made her feel—steady, known, loved. But Azzi hadn’t been brave enough to reach for it out loud.

And now?

Now she walks next to a boy whose hand she’s holding and feels like she’s living someone else’s life.

She pulls out her phone under the table, opens Paige’s contact without thinking, then locks the screen again before she can even type a word.

Nothing she says now will fix it. Not really.

But still—Azzi can’t help but wonder.

If she’d just said don’t go that night… would Paige have stayed?

They pass each other all the time.

At practice, in film sessions, on the sideline waiting for treatment. It’s not that they don’t acknowledge each other. There’s nods. The occasional "you good?" in the weight room. A tossed towel. A shared laugh when Coach Geno goes on one of his rants and no one knows if he's serious or just dramatic.

But they don’t talk. Not really.

Not the way they used to.

Not the 2 a.m. texts. Not the playlists they used to trade. Not the inside jokes over Chick-fil-A or the FaceTimes from opposite ends of campus just because they couldn’t go more than an hour without hearing each other’s voice.

Now it’s polite. Controlled. Measured.

And it kills Azzi slowly.

Because Paige doesn’t look at her the way she used to. Not with that open softness, that teasing spark. Now there’s just this guardedness. This distance. Like Azzi’s been put in a box and labeled handle with caution.

Azzi knows she did that. She built that wall between them. She told Paige without saying it that her love—whatever it was, whatever it could’ve been—was too much. Too risky. Too real.

And now she gets to live with the version of Paige that doesn’t look at her like she used to.

She looks right through me now.

At practice, it’s almost worse.

Because they click on the court. Always have.

Azzi knows where Paige is going before she moves. Paige cuts backdoor and Azzi bounces a pass without looking. They’re telepathic, instinctive, frustratingly in sync. Geno eats it up. Teammates praise it like it’s magic. But Azzi feels it for what it is—muscle memory. Chemistry that never really went away, no matter how badly she tried to bury it.

Only now, Paige doesn’t cut. Not really.

Not since August.

Not since her ACL gave out during a pre-season practice—before classes had even started. One wrong plant, one too-fast drive, and everything came undone.

Azzi hadn’t even been in the gym that day. She heard about it from Caroline. And when she showed up to the training room, Paige was already sitting on the table, leg braced, eyes hollow, pretending like it wasn’t the end of something she’d been building toward for years.

Now, she runs the offense from the sideline like it’s second nature—clipboard in one hand, barking out reads with the sharpness of someone who still sees the game like she’s in it. And in a way, she is.

But it’s different.

Azzi watches her during drills, sees the flickers—Paige’s jaw tightening when the trainers roll out the ice, the way she shifts in her seat like her body still wants to move. Still wants to lead.

But she never lingers too long. Never lets it show. Never lets herself feel it out loud.

And Azzi knows better.

She knows what it’s like to want something so badly your chest aches—and to watch it move on without you.

Every day it eats at her. The silence. The space. The unanswered question hanging between them like fog.

Why didn’t you fight for her?

Azzi still doesn’t know.

She thinks about texting her all the time. Writing something that could undo a year of unspoken everything.

“I didn’t know what I wanted back then.” “I was scared.” “It was always you.”

But the truth is, none of it feels like enough.

Because Paige gave her everything. And Azzi gave her nothing.

She sighs.

You were scared to choose her. Now she’s gone.

[justjiongu]

Well, it all began with this roleplay group of mine that I've known since 2018.

I'd met them on a game by the name Tokyo Ghoul: Bloody Nights that was on Roblox. Specifically in a group that'd taken up the label of Anteiku. And at the time, I hadn't even know what roleplaying was.

Hell, I hadn't even known what roleplaying was. And I didn't have much interest in making friends since I'm pretty pessimistic when it comes to that sort of thing. Well... that and because of internet safety. But I did talk to people every now and then, as well as participate in group events whenever they were hosted. Because it was fun to interact with people every now-and-then.

One of the members noticed I was pretty closed off. And so they asked me if I knew what roleplaying was. I, of course, acted as if I knew all~ about roleplaying. Even though I didn't know a thing. To which he invited me to a tokyo ghoul roleplay server that a friend of his was hosting.

Now, while I didn't know much about roleplaying. I was an avid reader. And so I took to text roleplay pretty quickly. But, uh, well it didn't go very well. Anytime I spawned in, this person with a one eyed ghoul would sprout in the same location within their kakuja and then eat me.

I didn't really care too much about it. If anything, it was just a tad irritating to constantly make ocs and then have to throw them away.

So, after that server died, that friend invited me to another server.

One where he had a whole HOST of other friends who also liked roleplaying. The pessimist I was, I expected to eventually get kicked and thus, constantly told myself not to get attached.

I wouldn't talk with these people for long.

They aren't my friends.

No one would ever want to be friends with me.

Things like that. Just... thoughts that feel more like facts rather than me putting myself down. Hell, it didn't even hurt to say it. It genuinely just felt like the truth to me at the time.

Days passed, then weeks, months, then years.

Roleplays came and went—mostly of the anime variety—and I kept cycling through names.

Haku, Nexus, Ravnier, Zalgo, Ralshier, Rolshier, Ravnier (I got real sloppy with those ones,) Techno Virus, Raze, Feralia.

But nothing really stuck. Well, aside from the name that my friends still use for me which was the main part of my roblox username at the time. Which uh... can be really problematic without the context of why they use it. Which I shan't share here.

But yeah, nothing really took until this one naruto roleplay where I was allowed to use Earth Grudge Fear. A kinjutsu used by my favorite naruto character. And I loved both so much that I'd actually spent a lot of time looking at fanfics that included the kinjutsu.

After a time, I stopped using (EGF) and settled strictly on Jiongu.

Some time later, I guess I entered a point where I'd started questioning myself and who I was. And I came to the general consensus that I am Just a person.

Regardless of my gender, sex, ethnicity or anything like that. Because those facets of me don't matter as much as they used to. And so I wanted something to reflect that little realization of mine which I thought to add to the name. The issue is that the original name would've included the uh, main part of my roblox username that my friends prefer over the rest of it. Which would've been even more problematic.

So I instead went with my ever favorite naruto kinjutsu: Jiongu.

JustJiongu.

USERNAME LORE GIVE IT TO ME NOW YOU ALL

[janecafe]

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template link: here. the basic color divider and edits was mine.

• 𝗨𝗡𝗢

the date is gonna take place at an amusement park. and could be one of you is gonna be late at an agreed time and place. this rendezvous is a moment that engraved your memories in this lifetime, it is gonna be flowing with sweetness. the interaction between two souls is gonna honey, sweet and smooth. i can feel the timidity between these two but it's more likely because before dating, you've already have feelings for each other. which is quite interesting because this sounds like a shelter in my fingertips but the hesitation and insecurities take the lead from this date. well, i quite understand that because it was your first time going out with this individual. perhaps, negativity won't make the situation any better but i advise you to feel the moment--- enjoy and have fun. feelings here are not lying, i can feel the 100% affection from the two of you. i also feel this person is gonna ask tons of questions to you like they want to get to know you more. you may have a remembrance picture from a photo booth or in another term, you gonna take a lot of pictures especially stolen photographs. this on the spot of "spark" date where you gonna feel elated. having conversations with this person is like pulling you into their soul and you want to more. after this first date, i think the text and video calls will be more often. you two will grow closer.

★ check the previous pac

• 𝗗𝗢𝗦

your person is gonna be so damn whipped and tripped for you, my goodness 😩🤌🏻 this person is gonna express their intense feelings towards you like how much they likens their favorite brew. they underscore the profound impact of this date and you in their heart. sissy, their love is like an affogato burning hot but willing to pour more and more dozen. this is date is gonna bring overwhelm feeling at the same time comfort on your side. this date gonna delectable treat that you want to consume every day 😉✨this pile is giving me so much young-spirited epoch. a reminiscent of a teenage love drama that will make you giggle and tickle. i think your will be your tour guide for this date, it feels like this is their favorite place. they will guide you in this place. i found this rom-com lol, where the two of you may seems different from others people at this place. for example, you two are wearing face mask 😷 which you may find odd from others. it's like you gonna feel shy at the same time see it as funny scenario. the place where you two will dine in to eat is something new from your eyes and ears, it can be fine-dining restaurant. although, your date may casually notice your eyes seems wondering and roaming the place where your partner may seem notice. they may buy you something you really want, i can say they are someone who have a lot of money but they are able to afford what you want. thus, i don't feel like the two of you were looking for love or any romantic ship but in the end you gonna feel something with each other. otherwise, i don't see you two as people are hungry and desperate for love perhaps you two wants to take it slow.

★ check the previous pac

𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗦

warning some parts are 18+

geez. so hot. btw, this is kinda similar to group two, your person is gonna spoil you a lot on this date. the first kiss and sex may happen after this date. i see that you will wear something black and your partner is gray partnering with a white. i view the two of you as attractive individuals on this date. this date might take a lot of chances and moving due to busy schedule of you two. thus, i see that in the beginning the conversation is awkward but it end the conversation goes in sexier and hotter. you gonna ogle with each other and thinking some lewd stuff. i also think both you are ready to settle down like you are on right age to get committed. you are interested to get to know each other. i think you are the one who will take the initiative to kiss your person. it seems like you weren't even expecting that this is gonna be your best date? this person is giving you fun that your previous dates don't. thus, this person will bring a lot of healing into your soul and heart. you are gonna feel appreciated and loved by this individual.

★ check the previous pac

jane, the bean fiend tarot reader

˚⊱🍀⊰˚

[7975348473]

Hi, I love your fics. Could you write one where Lyra and Gray have a really big fight, break up, and then get back together after a while?

Breakups Don't Last.

------------------------------ Relationship/s:- Lyrason (Lyra x Grayson), The Hawthorne Brothers. Post- The Grandest Game

I recommend you read "The Rolex Chronicles" before this fanfic,in order to understand it better, but its not necessary.

-------------------------------

LYRA

Grayson and Lyra hadn't been properly communicating for quite a while. It wasn't intentional, of course.

Half of Grayson's thoughts were still preoccupied with Lyra and half of Lyra's thoughts were still plagued by her asshole.

It was just that, between Grayson's work at the firm and Lyra's studies, they couldn't talk much.

So, apart from the occasional "How are you?", "Did you eat?", "I love you" and "I miss you", they weren't interacting. Of course, Lyra had noticed. And she hated it.

But she had figured that, once both of their lives calmed down, everything would return to normal. Return to just them.

Life had other plans, though.

Grayson was tired. Lyra was beyond exhausted. Yet they still took out time and decided to meet one another, that's what love did to a person. Unfortunately, though, their lack of communication over the past few weeks finally took its effect.

They ended up arguing.

“Lyra, I honestly don't remember??” Grayson said, sounding absolutely exasperated. Which only hurt Lyra more.

“I- Gray. You planned the event??” Lyra immediately shot back.

“And I forgot. I'm sorry, its just work has been-”

“Do not give me that excuse again, Gray, because I have been perfectly busy too, but I remembered.”

Grayson ran a hand down his face, his smile was completely gone now.

“I'm not giving you an excuse Lyra, its the truth and sadly inevitable.”

Lyra let out a frustrated groan, “Inevitable, Hawthorne? Really? You're the one that suggested we go out this weekend and then forgot. This was perfectly avoidable.”

Grayson's eyes bored into her, as if he was trying to read what was going through her mind.

“You're right. This was perfectly avoidable, I shouldn't have tried in the first place.” He sounded cold.

Lyra tried to remind herself that they were both just tired, that they were both lashing out for no reason, yet she couldn't get herself to stop.

Her scoff was cruel.

“Or you could have remembered?? Set a reminder or something. This is the third event of ours that's been cancelled-”

And so they went back and forth over and over again.

“Oh, my god. I cannot even with this right now.” Lyra said after they had argued for a good twenty minutes. She raised her hands in defeat and began to pace the room to keep her cool.

“With what?” Grayson pried, he wasn't masking his anger either.

“I don't know genius. The event? This? Us?”

When Grayson was angry, he didn't yell or scream or turn red. No, when he was angry, he put on his poker face. His cool, unbothered façade. He went so unbelievably still, seemed so unbelievably calm, that people were unnerved.

And that demeanor never faltered when he was in a bad mood.

At least that's what Lyra had thought up until then.

The moment the word “Us?” left her mouth, Grayson's expression changed. For one split second, he looked shocked, taken-aback, broken.

Lyra knew immediately where she had erred. She didn't mean that. Not one bit.

“Gray-”

“Then leave.”

Silence.

Lyra felt her world tilting on its axis as she repeated those words again in her head.

Then leave.

He wants you to leave. He wants you to leave.

A small part of Lyra whispered, He doesn't mean that.

Lyra took a deep breathe.

But what if he does?

She looked up to meet Grayson's gaze but he wasn't looking at her anymore. His head was turned to the side as he glared holes into the floor.

“Leave?” She asked, her voice sounded indifferent. A broken kind of indifferent.

A heavy silence followed, which answered the question for her.

“Alright then.” Lyra turned on her heels, walking fast towards the door. She needed to get out of there.

“This is the end, Hawthorne.”

Lyra grabbed her car keys and was about to snatch her coat from the stand when she realized that it wasn't hers.

The coat she had been using was her boyfriend's. Or, her now ex-boyfriend's

Lyra's hand retreated and she barged out the door. She didn't let the tears come, she had a long drive ahead of her.

But where am I going to go?

She decided on Miles End, making up her mind to drive for nearly a day and a half.

Lyra sprinted to the parking area and spotted a man standing in front of her car.

“Excuse me, can you please move? I need to drive.” She tried to sound as polite as she possibly could at that moment.

The man turned to her, “Actually, I have been assigned to drive you wherever you'd like.”

Lyra felt her heart tug.

Maybe Grayson didn't hate her?

She pushed the thought away. He had told her to leave, he didn't want her around anymore and she would respect that.

“I decline the offer, now please leave.” Lyra said, making her way to the drivers seat.

“M-miss! I insist-”

Lyra sent the man a levelled glare, ordering him to back off, “You are dismissed, sir.”

The man gave a small bow and left. Lyra almost felt bad, she hadn't meant to scare the poor guy, but she wasn't exactly emotionally stable at the moment.

Finally, sitting there alone in the car, her feelings bombarded her. A broken sob escaped her lips.

Lyra didn't think her life could have a lower moment than when the memory of her biological father began to haunt her. She had been wrong.

This was so, so much worse.

Because Lyra had a taste of what love felt like, what being whole felt like, what being with him felt like.

And she had screwed it all up. She had ruined it.

Lyra felt like somebody had ripped her heart out of her chest, threw it to the ground, stomped on it a hundred times and put it right back in her chest.

That would be better than this, actually. She thought.

Everything hurt.

And he wasn't there.

Lyra's entire body shook as she sat their in the car, crying her heart and soul out.

She had lost him. He hated her. They were over.

-------------------------------------

GRAYSON

Grayson's brain didn't process what had went down until she slammed the door shut behind her.

She left.

Lyra was gone.

And he had told her to leave.

Grayson's eyes widened slightly.

When they had started arguing, Grayson knew it wouldn't be a short 'scream and finish' argument. They both had been tired, they both had lashed out.

But he never expected for this to happen.

Grayson took a step back as the weight of the situation finally settled in.

Lyra left. She's gone. She isn't coming back. We broke up. She hates me. It's over.

He fell back on the sofa without meaning to, his legs had given out. Grayson had faced heartbreak before, this was something else. Because what was his life without Lyra? What was he without Lyra?

How did this happen? Why did this-

He took a shaky breathe. He tried to steady himself.

He failed.

---------------------------------------

LYRA

It was hard to keep her eyes open for nearly 29 hours after having an entire sob session, but Lyra was stubborn as hell.

She had drove. An entire 29 hours. No eating or breaks. Just driving

And she was now at Miles End.

Lyra stood at the front door staring at the door knob as she contemplated whether to tell her mom. What to tell her mom. She took a deep breathe and stepped in.

“Mom! I'm home!!” Lyra screamed as if her arrival was to be expected.

Her mom ran out of the kitchen, “Lyra?! Oh my goodness-”

She hugged her, Lyra let her.

“You came alone?? Where's my soon-to-be-son-in-law?” She asked, looking back to the door to make sure nobody was left behind. That he wasn't left behind.

When Lyra didn't reply, her mom turned back to her.

Lyra had decided before hand that she wouldn't tell her mom, she didn't want to worry her. She didn't want her mom to see her despair.

Her mom turned around and gazed over her entire body, toes-up. Her eyes lingered on her face. She didn't say a word.

She simply took Lyra's hand and led her to the living room.

Lyra followed like a lifeless corpse.

She took a seat on the sofa and signaled for Lyra to follow suit. She did. And then, her mother took her head and gently pried it onto her lap, Lyra was stunned for a moment.

But that's all it took.

She wrapped her hands around hers mother's waist, face towards her mother's stomach.

The tears came of their own violation.

----------------------------------------

GRAYSON

Grayson had dealt with heartbreak before. This was not the same.

He didn't know what to do. What to think.

It had been nearly a week since the argument, since the break up. Grayson hadn't so much as left his room. He didn't shower, didn't eat, didn't sleep.

Life felt bland, pointless, like nothing.

Suddenly Grayson heard voices coming from outside the door, his usually sharp ears, though, didn't process what they were saying until they entered his penthouse.

“Nope. We've given him enough time to sob. We cannot handle this gently anymore.” Jameson

“Agreed.” Said Xander and Nash heaved a heavy sigh.

They stepped into his room and froze.

Obviously, whatever it was they were expecting, it wasn't this.

Grayson, laying down on his bed, looking surreally pale- symbolizing a corpse. Judging by how disheveled his clothes looked, he obviously hadn't changed from his previous pair, leave alone bathed.

He looked miserable. Dead, almost.

His three brothers stood there, trying to process what they were seeing. It didn't feel right. Nothing about the scene said Grayson.

Jameson snapped out of it first.

“Grayson. What are you doing?” He practically screamed, Nash shot him a glare but he ignored it.

When Grayson didn't reply, didn't move, Jameson walked forward.

“Oi! Grayson-” Nothing.

“Gray! You can't stay like that for the rest of your life. Get up.”

Followed by, once again, nothing. Not a glare, not a scoff not even an eye twitch.

Jameson's eyes widened slightly. This was bad.

Nash and Xander stepped up beside him as they all looked down to Grayson's extremely still body-practically-corpse.

They were stumped.

“Okay!! Its obvious my dearest brother here is in need of some scones. And chaos. A lot of chaos.” Xander declared.

He produced a scone out of his pocket and handed it to Grayson, when he didn't move Xander began to wave the scone in front of his eyes.

“Brother! Earth to Brethren!! Hey, its a once in a lifetime moment that I share my scones, are you seriously going to miss out on this??” Nash and Jameson snorted, Grayson remained still.

Silence.

Xander looked slightly panicked and even Jameson was shook.

Nash then picked Grayson up and they all moved to the living room. No one had to say anything, because when a Hawthorne was down and depressed, only one thing helped them lighten up.

 “Karaoke Time!!” Jameson and Xander screamed simultaneously.

And the brothers did what they did best. They chaos-ed. They chaos-ed so hard that Xander had just about lost his voice, Nash had ditched his cowboy hat and Jameson's shirt had come undone. Yet, despite it all, Grayson had still not moved.

Finally, his brothers stopped.

They all shared a look, they needed to face this head on.

Nash sat down next to Grayson, who was just staring at the floor. He wore no expression but it wasn't what you could call his poker face.

His poker face only came up when he himself was in control, this expression was something else.

It was broken.

“Gray.”

Nothing.

“Look at me lil' brother.”

Grayson didn't. He didn't so much as move a muscle.

“I feel a tackle coming in~~” Xander tried. Still nothing.

Finally, Jameson stepped up.

He simply moved and sat down on the other side of Grayson and then, without warning, he smacked their wrists together.

A loud clinking sound was produced.

Nash and Xander looked confused, they looked to Jameson and Grayson's wrist and saw two Rolexes.

Two matching Rolexes. Bestie Bands.

Finally, Grayson looked to Jameson and Jameson met his faltering gaze.

“You alright, bro?”

Grayson shook his head slowly as his brain began to catch up with reality once again.

A broken sob escaped him, and then he couldn't stop. The sound kept coming, shattered and crushed.

Jameson was immediately there, wrapping his arms around his brother, Nash put his strong arms on Grayson's shoulder as he shook.

Xander's eyes looked slightly glassy, he was the youngest after all. He wiggled himself between Jameson and Grayson's bodies and wrapped his hands around Grayson's waist.

All four brothers stayed like that for a while and Grayson's brain finally formed one coherent thought.

What'd I do to deserve these three?

A/N: Everything. Gray, my child, ur the bestest.

-----------------------------------

LYRA

It had been a week and five days.

An entire 288 hours without Grayson, and Lyra was not coping well.

She would randomly explode during the day and cry herself to sleep at night. Things were not looking good.

Lyra's mom had told her that she needed to be stronger for herself and try to get over the entire situation.

But it was easier said than done.

Because getting over Grayson Davenport Hawthorne seemed to get more and more impossible with every passing hour. How were you supposed to get over somebody that perfect, somebody you didn't even want to get over??

Lyra had been trying though, to pull herself together for the sake of her family. She was miserably failing.

No matter what she did, her brain would always find a way to wander back to him. If she was cooking she'd think, "Grayson likes less spice in his food" Or if she was watching TV she'd catch herself thinking, "Grayson's favorite show comes on today."

And then reality would catch up with her, but that wasn't the worst part.

No, the worst part was the thought that came after.

You shouldn't be thinking about him anymore. You can't.

It was that thought, that thought that made her heart squeeze, that made it hard to breathe.

Thinking about Grayson had always come naturally to Lyra, as if he was always meant to live rent free in her mind. And Lyra had loved to think about him, her boyfriend.

Hell, she still loved thinking about him, and that's what anguished her.

Lyra still thought about him, still loved him but she had lost the right to do so. She had hurt him by saying she was tired of them, she had left.

It was all her fault.

"Lyra!! Get down here, you have a guest!!"

Lyra flinched awake. She had been trying to sleep off her heart wrenching reality for a little bit, but it seems her mom had other plans.

A guest?

No one knew Lyra was back in town, so who would have come to visit her?

"Quickly!!"

Lyra dragged herself out of bed unwillingly, she barely had the energy to stand. She walked over to the mirror and stopped, looking herself up and down.

God. I look terrible.

Lyra's eyes were brimmed red because of all the late-night-crying-sessions and her hair was all over the place, not to mention her tear stained cheeks.

She let out a heavy sigh and grabbed a scrunchie, putting her hair into a quick messy bun and then washed her face.

When she was done tidying up, she realized... she still looked like shit.

Screw it.

Lyra flew down the stairs, making up her mind to wrap this up quickly.

"Mom, who is i-"

Lyra reached the end of the stairs and paused upon seeing the guest, she was absolutely floored.

A tall man in his early twenties, equipped with a cowboy hat stood at the front door.

What''s Nash doing here??

Lyra proceeded to have a mini freak-out.

Oh no. He probably heard what happened from Gray. Does he hate me too? I would hate me if I were him.

Nash's voice reeled Lyra out of her trance.

He smiled and said, “Hey lil' darlin'.”

Lyra was, once again, floored. Why was he smiling at her??

“H-hi.” She replied. What were you supposed to say to your ex-boyfriend's eldest brother?? Lyra certainly didn't know.

“Can I get you anything, Nash?” Lyra's mom chimed in.

Nash turned his gaze from Lyra to her mom, “No, thank you though. I'd just like a few moments with my lil' sis' here.”

Lyra's eyes widened slightly at the endearment. Lil' sis?

She took a deep breathe, trying to calm her emotions which were brewing up a storm, internally. But why was he being so nice to her??

“Please come in.” Lyra said finally.

Nash walked into the living room, his eyes travelled around Miles End as if assessing and judging the house.

“Um- can I ask why you're here?” Lyra asked hesitantly.

He plopped himself down on the sofa, turning his gaze to her and that's when it hit her.

He's probably here to return the stuff I left.

When Lyra had left Grayson's pent house so abruptly, she had forgotten all of her belongings.

“I already told your mom didn't I? I just wanna talk with you for a little while.” Nash drawled, Lyra felt a comfortable warmth settle over her.

Why was he being so nice?

“Oh, I also needed to give you something your forgot.” He quickly added.

I knew it. She thought.

Unexpectedly, Nash reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph. Lyra looked at him, slightly surprised, before taking hold of the picture.

Her breath hitched.

The picture had 5 smiling girls in it, Avery, Max, Gigi, Savannah and Lyra.

It had been no secret that Lyra loved the photo, she had framed it and kept it in her room and it seemed Nash had noticed.

But it wasn't the photo she loved exactly, it was the moment that had come with the picture, the photographer.

------------

“Alright people, gather around!! Our photographer is ready to do his job!” Jameson yelled from across the park.

Grayson rolled his eyes. A habit he had picked up from his girlfriend.

The five girls, who had been screaming and messing around, ran on over to have their photo taken. Grayson was ready with his camera.

The girls posed, putting up two fingers to make the peace sign, grinning. Lyra had been smiling too, the same smile she always wore in all her photos. A practiced smile.

Grayson was adjusting his camera when he suddenly frowned. A frown so minute you could barely see it but Lyra knew it was there.

She was confused, 'why is he upset all of a sudden?'

Suddenly, Grayson looked up at her and their gazes met, the rest of the world seemed to tune out. Because, god, he was looking at her like that again. Like she was the world and the stars and everything else that came with it.

And then, Grayson Hawthorne- the beautiful asshole, smiled. He really smiled. The type of smile where his eyes softened and his eyes wrinkled slightly.

Lyra's breathe caught. How was he so unfairly beautiful??

But Grayson Hawthorne was contagious.

Lyra found herself returning the smile and then the camera sounded click, he had taken the picture.

And she had been smiling. A real smile. Meant for him.

The moment was incredibly private, but Lyra knew she'd cherish it forever.

They would be forever.

-------------

Lyra ignored the way her heart squeezed and her throat closed up. She smiled at Nash.

“Thanks, Nash.”

“So, what have you been up to?”

Lyra thought that over. Oh- the usual, crying, having mental break downs, etc.

She couldn't exactly say that, though.

“I've been trying to learn a new dance choreography I found online. Its pretty nice.” She settled for a half-truth.

Lyra had been trying to learn a new ballet choreography, true. But she had also been unsuccessful in doing so because even the slightest violin note reminded her of him and then she felt her eyes burning.

Nash's eyes bored into her, and suddenly Lyra was reminded of how crappy she looked.

“Max and Xander managed to almost burn down the entire house. Again.” Nash deadpanned.

Silence.

Why was he telling her this? Weren't they going to talk about Grayson?

“Oh.” She replied finally.

He adjusted his cowboy hat “Yeah. They were apparently trying to make scones with some sort of alchemy for science.”

Lyra snorted at that.

“Let me guess, Alisa had their head?”

Nash shot her a look, “Worse. Xander is banned from touching scones for two days and Maxine is not allowed to read any romance novels.”

Lyra couldn't help it, she giggled.

Leave it to Alisa to find the most perfect ways to punish people.

Lyra and Nash talked, discussing the stupid found-family that resided within the Hawthorne household. And for the first time in the past two-ish weeks, Lyra felt slightly happy. Slightly at ease.

“I can't believe him sometimes, honestly.” Nash said in reference to Jameson.

Lyra rolled her eyes, “That sounds like Jameson. Stupid half-british ass.”

Nash paused for a second, meeting her eyes before laughing. Lyra found herself joining in.

Finally Nash stood up, a smile still on his face, “I should get goin' now. A long trip ahead and everythin'.”

Lyra stood up too and walked with him slowly, towards the door. She wasn't sure why he came all the way to Miles End just to talk to her.

Once they reached the door, Lyra spoke.

“You can say it.”

She hadn't meant to open her mouth, but now that she had, she couldn't find it in herself to stop.

Nash turned to look at her.

“W-why,” She took a deep breathe, “why haven't said anything about Grayson? You have the right to be mad. You're his eldest brother.”

Nash didn't say a word as he continued to look at her.

Her vision began to blur, “I'm sorry. Its my fault. I got mad first and lashed out like an idiot. I-”

She tried to steady herself, ordering her tears not to fall, “Grayson, he- he deserves better than m-”

Lyra was cut off by Nash's strong arms wrapping around her upper back and pulling her close. Lyra was stumped.

And then a sob escaped her. Followed by another, and the she was breaking down again in Nash's embrace.

“Shhh, its okay lil' darlin'.”

--------------------------------

GRAYSON

“For the last time, Jamie. No.”

It had been exactly two weeks since the break up.

And saying Grayson had not been taking it well was a major understatement, weren't these things supposed to get better with the passage of time?

How come he felt like dying then??

“C'monnnnnnn. What're you gonna do lazing around here, marinating in your depression?” Jameson retorted.

Grayson sent him a glare, “Do I look like I'm in the state to attend a social party, Jamie??”

He didn't. He looked terrible actually.

He hadn't had a proper meal in ages, which made him look skinnier than usual, his hair was disheveled and he wasn't even dressing properly anymore.

The Grayson Davenport Hawthorne, who always looked too perfect to be real, looked far too human at the moment to be considered even okay-adjacent.

"Heartbreak doesn't kill a man, and it certainly doesn't kill a Hawthorne." Tobias Hawthorne's words echoed in Grayson's mind.

And then he snorted. Then what the hell is happening to me right now, old man?

“Gray. Please. Why can't you try and move around a bit? Touch some grass?”

Grayson didn't deign that with a response.

Jameson muttered something incomprehensible, “You're gonna die at this rate.”

Then Grayson met his eyes, “Good.” Before turning his attention back to his phone.

Silence.

When Jameson didn't say anything Grayson looked back up at him, planning to tell him to leave.

His tongue caught when he saw Jameson's expression, though.

Jameson was a lot of things.

Reckless, stupid, a daredevil, whipped, narcissistic, perhaps even an egoist in the making. But that was mostly just a front. He, like all of his brothers, was taught to suppress his feelings, to never let his emotions catch up with him.

So when Grayson saw the expression Jameson was making, he was taken-aback to say the least.

Jameson's eyes were glassy and he was holding his breath, like if he let go then he'd come crashing down with it. His hands were balled up into tight fists and he was glaring holes into the floor.

He looked angry, helpless.

Scared.

Grayson thought the situation over again. To him, dying sounded perfectly fine, hell he already felt dead. But Jameson wasn't okay with that.

“Three hours. Then I will leave.” Grayson deadpanned.

The way Jameson's face lit up reminded Grayson of when they were kids, when they actually confided in one another. When it was just them.

He almost smiled.

“See you then, Gray.”

-----------------------------------------

LYRA

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you too.”

Lyra groaned.

She had been trying to help her mom cook when her phone suddenly went off. She ignored it initially but then it rang again.

Lyra had stormed off, ready to snap at whoever dared call her a second time when it was obvious she didn't want and wasn't going to pick up.

She was slightly shocked when she read Avery's name. Pleasantly shocked.

“Avery. I. Am. Not. Coming.” Lyra paused after every word, trying make her point.

“Whyyyyyy??!!”

“I literally live 29 hours away?! I can't just show up for an over night, quote on quote, 'social party' and leave-”

“I'll just send a private jet to get you, please come.”

Lyra forgot she had rich friends.

But travelling wasn't the only problem. What if Grayson is there?

Lyra wouldn't mind seeing him, in fact, she wanted to. Really, really badly. But Grayson hated her. What if he got angry when he saw her? What if he ignored her?

She didn't want to think about it.

“Lyra. We haven't so much as talked in two weeks, I miss you. Just for a little while. Please.”

Lyra felt warmth wrap around her heart. She had missed Avery too. The two girls had talked all the time when Lyra was still dating him.

“... Alright.”

She heard Avery gasp and then squeal from the other side of the line.

“But only for a little while, okay?”

“Of course, darling.”

--------------------------

LYRA

Lyra had considered ditching the entire plan and running away a million times but she pushed the thought away every. Single. Time.

Yet, as she stood in front of the Hawthorne Gates, gazing at the huge crowd, she cursed herself for not escaping while she had the chance.

I am done for, aren't I? Welp. No turning back.

She walked in.

Lyra was, in a way, an introvert. She hated huge crowds and loud noises, so this party was not appealing in anyway.

Just find Avery, say hi, get out.

She walked through the crowd and spotted Avery.... with Jameson.

Yay. Off to a great start.

Lyra turned around and stalled for a little while, praying that Jameson left his girlfriend's orbit for just one god damned minute.

There was no way she was facing any of Grayson's brothers today.

Thankfully and surprisingly, Jameson did walk away. That was almost sketchy, Avery and Jameson were practically inseparable at events.

Lyra decided not to look into it and walked on over.

"OH MY GOD LYRA!!!" Avery screamed and immediately hugged her. Lyra laughed, returning the embrace.

She still couldn't believe that both Nash and Avery didn't hate her.

"Its been so long, girl. Where have you been?"

Lyra gave her a soft smile. There was something to Avery, something that allowed Lyra to open up and be herself.

"At Miles End. Dying, I think." She said it as a joke, but it was true.

Avery stared her down for a before they continued talking about the most random bull crap, laughing at terrible jokes.

Lyra turned around to grab a drink from a bartender and that's when her gaze fell on him.

About 10 feet from where Lyra stood, a man with beautiful blonde hair and shining grey eyes stood. His posture was perfect, one that said that he was a man of power and not afraid to use it.

Grayson Hawthorne. Gray.

He looked skinnier, his dark circles had grown slightly, too. No one else saw it, she did, though.

Lyra's heart beat picked up, she felt like a stupid girl with a crush again. She couldn't help but stare, forgetting that Avery was talking.

He looked immaculate as always, glorious as he smiled.

And he was talking to a girl.

Lyra tried to ignore the way her heart squeezed, he's not yours anymore, Lyra. Get a grip.

"Lyraaaaa, earth to my favorite kitty!"

She snapped out of it and turned back around to see Maxine Liu standing next to Avery.

Lyra couldn't help the smile that broke out on her face, Max was a force to be reckoned with and Lyra loved her for it.

The three girls went on yapping, when suddenly a very familiar song came on. One everybody knew.

Shape of you.

Max squealed, "Lyra."

Lyra didn't have to guess what Max was implying, "Max. No."

Avery smiled at the both of them, "Why not?"

Lyra sent her a withering glare, "I just don't want to."

Max rolled her eyes, "Who are you lying to? You always want to dance."

She had a point, Lyra did in fact want to dance. It'd help her get her mind off of Grayson smiling at another girl.

God Lyra, stop acting like you're still dating him. Her heart squeezed again.

But if she were to start dancing, chances of Grayson spotting her would be at an all time high. She couldn't risk that.

"C'mon pleaseeee, its been so long since we all danced together." Avery pleaded and Max joined in.

Lyra sighed, feigning exasperation as a smile broke out on her face.

Well, I suppose I could dance just a bit.

And the three girls walked on over.

Lyra looked to her two best friends as they began to dance, Lyra let the music come, felt it in every bone of her body and then she was swaying to the beat.

------------------------------------------

GRAYSON

Like every other event Grayson had ever attended, this party too, was extremely taxing.

People put on nice facades and talked to others only so that they could benefit themselves.

In fact, this party was much worse.

Not only was Grayson still trying to cope with the separation from Lyra, as it turns out, news of the break up had spread far and wide. People jumped at the opportunity.

In the one hour Grayson had been present at the party, he had been flirted with at least 50 different times and that was rounding it off.

His brother was not making that much better.

"Oh! Gray, here comes another one~" Jameson teased, signaling towards a girl whose clothes seemed far too suggestive for Grayson to feel comfortable.

Wrap this up quickly. You control the room. Grayson reminded himself.

He was wrong. This girl was demanding and stubborn.

"Hey there hottie~"

Grayson tried not to cringe as Jameson snorted.

"Yes, miss?" Grayson replied, ever-so formally.

"I hope you know CPR, because you just took my breathe away." She replied.

Jameson turned his head around, covering up his laugh with a cough. Grayson fought to remain polite.

"That's quite funny, miss."

"Oh please, drop the title, just call me mine." She said, adding a wink.

Grayson was dumbstruck, can this woman not take a hint?? Jameson was having far too much fun.

"I'm sorry, ma'am?" He said, emphasizing the new title. This woman was getting on his nerves.

"Hmm, maybe 'mine' is not to your liking?? Then what about girlfriend?" She said, sounding smug.

Jameson tried to cover up his grinning by sipping his drink.

Grayson was floored, "Um. No thank you."

"Aww, you wanna take it fast then? Alrighttttt, you can call me wife."

Jameson choked on his drink.

Grayson choked on air.

What in the world was going on??

"I'm not interested, so-" She cut Grayson off.

"Yet. You're not interested, yet."

Grayson blinked. What?

The lady spun on her heel, she shook her head, her hair falling down to her waist and she threw off her coat.

"My dance will enamor you." She declared.

Jameson was barely holding it together, she then boldly walked to the dance floor, never once breaking eye contact with Grayson.

Then she started dancing.

Grayson shot Jameson a withering glare as he laughed. Hard.

"OH MY GOD, THAT WAS PEAK. AHHAHA-" Jameson barked

Grayson was considering actually digging up a hole and just dying, the woman didn't even dance well for all her boasting. She looked like a robot was attempting to do ballet.

Grayson's gaze wandered over the dance floor before it landed on one girl. He'd recognize those moves anywhere.

Far left, Grayson's gaze rested on a girl with long dark hair which had been left open, her golden-tan skin seemed to shine in the disco light as she danced to the beat like the music had possessed her.

Lyra.

He noticed the way her moves seemed more dragged out, as if she was tired. Her smile was fake and her dark circles had increased.

Yet, she still looked breathtaking.

Grayson didn't bother hiding his stare.

---------------------------------------

LYRA

Lyra got carried away.

She knew it the moment she felt his gaze on her, unwavering as he stared.

Lyra didn't know whether she should hate herself for dancing in the first place or hate herself for liking the fact that she had caught his attention.

He's probably glaring. She thought.

I mean, his ex-girlfriend did quite literally just attend a party his family had hosted. Lyra groaned.

"You guys, I'm tired." She said, coming to a stop. Her body ached for more.

Avery and Max shared a look, "Alrighty, lets go chug some drinks!!" Max yelled.

Lyra shook her head as they began to walk off the dance floor, that's when two guys stepped in their path.

"Hi." One guy said, speaking to all three of them but his eyes rested on Lyra.

Lyra wanted to ball his eyes out.

"Hello." Lyra replied as Max and Avery spectated.

"I happened to see you dancing and I must say, you can groove." He said.

Lyra heard Max and Avery snort the moment the weird guy said groove. She shot them both a glare.

"Um... yeah. Thanks. Now please move aside." Lyra replied, trying to make her disinterest clear.

The man was stubborn.

"Actually! I was wondering if we could have a drink together?" He asked, sounding confident in his abilities to make a woman swoon.

Lyra raised a single dignified brow. She had learned that from Grayson. Her heart ached yet again and she immediately pushed the thought away.

"I'm sorry, but no." She said, crisp and firm.

That should do it. Lyra thought.

"Oh come on. you can spare a few seconds-" The man started.

"She said no." Avery stepped up along with Max, who was now glaring.

"Um... I don't remember including you in this conversation?" The man had the audacity to say.

Lyra thought about reaching for her heels and beating the living shit out of this guy, but she couldn't since that'd tarnish Avery's image.

"Really?? Well I remember Lyra telling you to back off and you not listening you motherfaxer!!" Max said.

"Look. Everyone knows she's single, so she doesn't have any real reason to reject me?? Why should I-" The man began.

"She's my sister-in-law and best friend." Said Avery and Max simulatenously.

Lyra whipped her head around to face them.

Sister-in-law?? She wasn't dating Grayson anymore, what were they on about??

Avery sent her a look. Lyra let out a breath and turned back towards the man.

"You heard her. I am married and taken. Walk away."

The man and his friend snorted.

"Who do you think you're lying too??"

Lyra was about to reach for her heels, when she felt a hand suddenly land on the small of her back. She froze.

She knew that hand, that touch. She knew it the way she knew her own body.

Grayson.

Lyra leaned into the touch out of pure habit, she relaxed into the intimacy.

Shit! Pull back. Lyra ordered herself.

But then Grayson's hand moved from her back and slithered over to the side of her waist. Everywhere he touched burned and Lyra felt her heart begin to race.

She blushed hard.

"Don't make her repeat herself."

The man looked up at Grayson with wide eyes, obviously, he wasn't expecting this. To be fair, Lyra hadn't either.

Grayson's voice turned dark, "Scram."

The man and his friend didn't need to be told twice, they ran like their life depended on it.

Avery and Max smirked at Grayson, knowing fully well where this was going, before they, too, took their leave.

Yet, Lyra couldn't focus on them.

Her focus was fully on the man behind her.

Grayson. Suddenly the party hall seemed too small and she couldn't breath properly.

Neither of them moved until Grayson retracted his hand. He made to move away but Lyra was faster.

---------------------------------

GRAYSON

The guy with the death wish finally left.

Grayson had considered sending Oren after him or beating him up himself but his anger completely dissipated when his gaze landed on her again.

Lyra. Grayson's heart swelled yet he felt nervous.

Her eyes were downcast, her hair covering the side of her face. He saw the tiniest tinge of pink on her ears.

Grayson didn't let go at first. He couldn't.

Lyra was right here. Right in front of him. He wanted to pick her up, run away with her and apologize until she forgave him. But he wouldn't do that.

Not unless she wanted him to.

Grayson loosened his hold on her and then let go completely, he turned to move when her hand latched onto his.

He froze.

She wants me to stay. Grayson pushed the hopeful thought away. He turned around to face the goddess, that was Lyra.

She wouldn't meet his eyes as she stared down at where her hand held his arm.

"U-um. I- uh." She began.

Grayson's heart began to race, he had almost forgotten how much he liked her voice.

"Can we talk?" The words were out of his mouth before his brain had even processed it.

Lyra looked up at him then, eyes blown wide.

Shit. I screwed up.

"Yes." She said finally.

Grayson paused. then blinked once. Twice.

Yes?? She said- she said yes?! Yes!

He grabbed her hand and walked the both of them off the dance floor and towards the "Staff Only" area.

Once they got there Grayson let go of her hand and turned to face her properly. The Staff Only area was unfairly small.

They deserved better than one small square room??

Grayson noted to mention that later.

Grayson's gaze landed on Lyra and, this time, she was looking too, Grayson's breathe caught.

Suddenly the rest of the world didn't exist.

She's here.

------------------------------------------

LYRA

Lyra noticed the way Grayson's eyes travelled around the small staff room he had led them to.

She observed as his face went from stoic, to observant, to disappointed, to serious before his gaze landed on her and then all of his feature softened.

Lyra's heart swelled. Why was he looking at her like she was fragile? Like she meant something??

She had hurt him.

Lyra had made up her mind on the short walk to the room that she would apologize to Grayson and that, no matter the outcome, she would live with it.

No matter how upset it made her.

But, now, with her staring into his beautiful deep eyes, she couldn't seem to remember any of the points she was going to say.

"Lyra." Grayson broke the silence, he said her name like it was a secret. A promise.

Lyra didn't know what to say.

You're beautiful? I love you still, but I'm also a dumbass and hurt you?? Why are you looking at me like that?? Her mind ran through her options.

"Hi."

She slapped herself mentally.

hi? HI?? REALLY??

Grayson blinked, slightly taken a back, before a smile broke out on his face, Lyra's breathe was taken away.

How was it fair that he smiled like that and she was supposed to let him go?

"Hi, Lyra."

She looked down as she blushed slightly, god this is embarrassing.

A silence followed, but it wasn't suffocating or awkward. It was comfortable. As if the rest of the world had disappeared leaving just their slow breathing.

They both stood their, absorbing the others presence. It felt like coming home.

Lyra felt her eyes burn slightly at the familiarity of this situation. Grayson always gave her this sense of comfort. Did she really have to let it go?

You brought this upon yourself. Apologize.

Lyra took a deep breathe, "Grayson."

Grayson kept staring at her which made it hard for her to focus, "Yeah?"

She looked up and met his gaze, "I'm sorry."

Grayson's eyes widened slightly.

"I-," she took another deep breathe to try and calm herself, "I shouldn't have lashed out. That was stupid of me."

She tried to keep the tears at bay, but one fell anyway.

"If you hate me now, I completely understand. But I want you to know that when I said us-" her voice cracked, she kept going.

"When I said I was tired of our relationship. I-" She calmed herself. Lyra needed Grayson to know that she truly meant this.

Lyra's gaze steadied and she met his eyes.

"I didn't mean it. Not in the slightest."

Silence.

"I'm not telling you to forgive me or anything, I just need you to know I'm sorry and-"

"Stop." Grayson said finally, Lyra did.

His voice sounded deep, hoarse, guttural. As if it was taking everything in him to keep firm. He looked both confused and surprised.

"Lyra, why are you apologizing??" Grayson finally managed, his breathing was slightly shaky.

Lyra paused.

"Why-," he ran a hand through his hair and walked closer to Lyra, making her heart beat pick up again, "Don't apologize Lyra. Its not your fault."

Lyra stared at him, she couldn't process what he said at first.

Not my fault?

Lyra turned the phrase over in her head as her eyes widened, what did he mean?? It totally was her fault?

"Lyra, you weren't the only one who lashed out. I did too, and that was dumb. As hell." He let out a breath.

Lyra couldn't believe her ears, was Grayson blaming himself?

"And no matter what you might have said, Lyra, I was the one that told you to leave."

Lyra's breathe caught once again.

"I told you to leave like I wanted you gone, like I was tired of you. I acted like that freaking penthouse was mine alone."

Lyra gulped, "It is yours, though, Grayson."

"No. No its not. Its not just mine. Lyra, when I asked you to move in with me, the place became ours. Its yours just as much as its mine."

If Lyra wasn't crying before she certainly was now.

"I shouldn't have told you to- fuck. I-"

Lyra didn't let him finish, she threw her arms around his neck. Grayson went still for a moment before his arms wrapped around her waist tightly.

They stayed like that for a while, with nothing but the sounds of Lyra's sobs slowly dissolving into nothing but silence.

Just them

"I love you." Grayson said, finally.

Lyra thought she was done crying but she had been wrong.

"And you don't have to say it bac-"

Lyra pulled away from him, looking him dead in the eye, "I don't have to do anything Hawthorne. I chose to come to this party. I chose to follow you here. I chose to apologize to you and-"

Lyra smiled, "I choose to love you, Gray."

The wind sped up, making the room slightly chilly, but Lyra didn't care because, god, Grayson was looking at her like that again.

Like she was the entire universe and he didn't need anything but her.

Grayson closed the space between them first, taking her chin and prying it upwards. She closed her eyes and they were kissing.

It wasn't a slow kiss, not at all.

All of the pent up emotion- heartbreak, anguish, regret, lust and love- all of it spilled out in their intimacy.

Neither of them were holding back, Grayson picked her up with practiced ease and set her down on the singular table in the room, Lyra wrapped her legs around his waist as if they were always meant to be there.

They finally broke apart gasping for breathe. Lyra's head was on his shoulder and she could feel Grayson's breathing by her ear.

Butterflies flew around in her stomach.

Lyra lifted her head and met Grayson's eyes, he looked at her- his chest still moving up and down, trying to catch his breathe.

Her hands went to his face, she started from his forehead, moving down to his cheek bones to tracing his jawline. She committed the moment to memory.

"That girl was fucking annoying." She said finally.

Grayson paused before he burst out laughing, Lyra couldn't help but smile at the warm noise.

"I can sympathize with that, though, the guy was worse." Grayson said. Lyra groaned.

"God don't remind me." She said, exaggerating as she put her head back on his shoulder.

Grayson pulled her closer.

"We aren't going to get anywhere here." Lyra said.

"..what?"

Lyra pulled back again, her eyes alight with something new, "Well? Won't you give me the chance to make up for being away for so long??"

Grayson's entire demeanor changed. He grabbed her hand, "There's a short cut."

Lyra laughed. She couldn't believe it.

She looked at Grayson's beautiful face, his eyes taking on a bluer shade in the moonlight.

She had been sure that she had lost Grayson forever, that she didn't deserve him in the slightest, but she had been wrong.

Because in the end, Grayson chose her and she chose him.

Isn't that really all that mattered?

------------------------------------------

UM?? WOW- THIS IS MY LONGEST FIC YET. I AM BLOODY PROUD.

Personal belief that Lyra can be just as freaky as Grayson, try me.

I hope u enjoyed ahahah :DD (Grayson's POV was a challenge, pls don't come at me.)

Constructive Criticism: @lyrakanefanatic @musiwashere @inkstainsonmyfingertips @alwaysthefangirl @talahsaudiobooklibrary (newest author on the block <3)

[litsenn]

Astarion craves connection

Lately, I've been thinking an awful lot about Astarion's desperate need to bond with others, especially in Act 1. Not just to seduce you and have sex with you, not just because he wants to secure his place in the party, but because he wants - and surely needs - to connect with people after two centuries of loneliness.

I’m talking about genuine interactions with other people, without the pressure of Cazador’s will, and with interlocutors who are neither targets nor threats. Of course, sometimes it’s difficult to say if he’s only pretending or if he’s genuinely trying to bond with you, but the more I think about it, the more I see it. Just think about all the discussions you can have with him in Act 1. He's certainly the companion with the most evening interactions, and I think there's a reason for it, especially when you know that he's been so lonely for so long. And it's also quite striking given the fact that one could expect him to be much more wary, maybe even paranoid somehow (like Shadowheart), but on the contrary, he shows a real capacity to open up, to share and to relate. It's awkward sometimes, but he's trying, even if he doesn't really understand it himself.

So I wanted to look back at some interactions in act 1 and to have a closer look at them (in no particular order). And it's going to be long. And chaotic.

Take the first night in camp for instance; he opens up about not feeling comfortable sleeping in the woods. Yes, he remains quite cryptic, he doesn't tell you how terrified he is (you can't expect him to at this point), but still... he doesn't know you and yet tells you he's not feeling comfortable here. You don't even have to ask him.

He could have kept it to himself, he could have preferred to let you believe that he's fine.

Nothing forces him to tell you about it. And yet he decides, against all odds, to let you know that he's not so fine. It's implicit and subtle, yes, but it's there. He tries to reach out to someone. He's not good at it, but that's a meaningful step.

And take the stargazing scene, which, to me, is when he really decides to go for his “nice little plan”. But whether this is it or not, he is lying down and stargazing in the middle of camp, and I can't stress this enough: in the middle of camp. He’s not sitting apart, seeking calm and solitude. He obviously expects someone (you) to come and talk to him.

Another meaningful example is his confession if you go to the Underdark before the bite night. In this case, he will decide to tell you he’s a vampire. Nothing forces him to tell you. He admits it simply because he wants to be honest about it – he feels that, at this point, you won’t let him down. He wants to connect with you, despite the risks of such a revelation.

And look at his face when you say it's alright: he’s so relieved! Because you don't drive a stake through his heart, yes, but also because he knows now that you trust him. That he is ok. That he can count on you.

As for the bite scene, it's a little more complicated: He's famished and he wants to know if he can bite a sentient being now that Cazador can't control him. Of course, doing it without your consent is a terrible move (I tend to believe his idea of personal boundaries is quite fucked up at this point, but that's a topic for a another post).

But if you accept him as a vampire, he trusts you to trust him enough to ask for a snack. Which, to me, is not only related to his burning hunger. This mutual trust, again, is something he desperately craves. Because it means your partnership is not superficial. And when you let him bite you, you prove him that trust can exist between the two of you (even if he's already planning to manipulate you, because people are complicated and full of contradictions).

Then you have the scene when he asks you who you'd like to bite. IMO, it's one of the most relevant scenes concerning his need for connection. Of course he’s flirting a little, he probably has already been scheming his nice little plan. But come on, if it was only about seducing you, I think he would have chosen another topic for the conversation… I mean, honestly, you don’t usually flirt by speaking about other people’s blood (except for all the Durges around, but he doesn’t really now about that yet). 

No, beyond the flirting bits, this man is desperate to talk about his newfound freedom! for the first time in two hundred years, he can feed on all kind of beasts, whenever he wants! Of course he's excited and want to ramble about it! Imagine you've been feeding on rotten and unseasoned garbage for weeks and suddenly you can taste all kind of different spicy food, wouldn't you want to share that experience with someone? To ask them what kind of food they prefer? To imagine how this or that would taste?

Astarion is curious, he says it himself, and he wants to share his curiosity with you. Because he appreciates your company. Because he wants to share something with you, the open-minded companion who accepts him as he is. Astarion is not just teasing you, he's enjoying speaking to you "in the spirit of theoretical questions".

By the way, if you refuse to have this talk, he disapproves. Understandably!

You just turned down his first attempt to connect, to have a playful conversation, without any pressure. Of course he is disappointed! He thought you'd understand after you let him dine on you.

But if you play along, he approves whoever you pick, and gives a little comment of his own according to the companion you choose. And each answer reveals an attempt at bonding, it's always positive, even when he wouldn't have picked the same companion.

Even if you choose him.

And even if he’s already performing for his nice little plan, don't forget that it’s the first time he can really choose and decide to flirt and seduce. He feels somehow that he has to seduce you, because that's how he learned to survive, but nobody is actually forcing him to, for the first time in 200 years. So many reasons which make me believe that this discussion isn’t a performance, not completely at least, and that it's not just about his plan. It's about bonding and having a little fun.

By the way, during that scene, he calls you a friend. Is it genuine? Maybe not at this point, but I take it as wishful thinking. Whether he acknowledges it or not, he wants friends, or at least a friendly interaction.

He used the words 'friends' before, in an even more sarcastic way: The morning after the bite night, when you decide to keep him in the party after the revelation. Here, he’s not talking about you in particular, but about the whole group, and half of them are particularly wary of him, some of them are lowkey threatening him (and right before this, he told you he was scared anyone would turn against him - he still is). Without you, they would have at best kicked him out of camp.

This "friend" is ironical because none of them is seeing Astarion as a friend right now. So he deflates it with irony. Likewise, when he asks you to sleep with him the first time before the party, the “trusting friends” is ironical since you just called him out on his potential bullshit - and he knows it. It's a defence mechanism he uses each time someone sees him as a threat.

There's another "friend" in Act 1. During the "drunk scene".

This part sounds much more genuine to me. He's intoxicated, and he greets you with a "my friend" and a little laugh that makes him sound very giddy about it. If you listen to it, it doesn’t sound like he’s bitter, or manipulating.

Even the dev notes indicate that he must look “very happy".

At this point he really begins to trust you. It seems to make him happy to believe that you could really become friends. And being intoxicated helps him drop the mask a little, he's more himself: Playful, silly, displaying a sheer need to talk with someone. (look at this silly goose)

But being intoxicated also helps him open up about his past, about the torments. About his bitterness and his belief that power is the only way to be safe. About his biased vision of the world, of heroes, of power structures and responsibilities.

IMO he really needs someone he can talk to, someone who would listen and understand, if he's not sure how to do it, if he can do it, if you can be that person. He's "drunk", he needs to vent, and he vents to you.

This need to communicate, to connect with someone is even clearer when you play Durge, since he seems to relate a little more to your character. First things he tells you after you recruited him shows that he observes you and notices something is off, but it seems to be comforting to him.

As if he was thinking "thank goodness I'm not the only one who's a mess. Maybe they'll understand." And a few days letter, he comments on your state.

Not only he worries about you, but he also wants to understand what's happening to you. And if that's not a proof that this man wants to connect with others, I don't know what you need.

He has a hard time acknowledging it himself, with that little "do take care of yourself" which sounds a little awkward. And it makes sense, that must not be the kind of things he's used to say to anyone. Hence the silly little bow.

According to your answer, he can also appear to be very supportive, telling you to not fear who you are, accepting your quirks just (like you accepted his). Partners in crime. He's not alone in this.

And don't get me started on the fact that he doesn't refuse to tell you about his past. Despite his little remark on you insisting “about exhuming the past”, you don’t actually have to insist to make him talk about it. Comparing to Shadowheart, he willingly tells you about Cazador, about him being slave and very soon after you learned he's a vampire. You just have to ask, he opens up. He complains a little but he talks, for the first time in so long he's found someone he can talk to, someone who's willing to listen. And the more he trusts you, the more he tells you, without you having to insist.

I could go on for ages with examples: How he approves if you decide to tell Eithel about the tadpole in the grove. He doesn’t trust the old lady, but he clearly wants the two of you to have fun.  

How he confesses that you are "his first". I don't think he's lying about it. After all, being completely unexperimented in term of biting people, it's not exactly the image of "the sexy vampire" that he usually tries to display.

Not to mention that he seems quite embarrassed about it. His body language gives him away. He's looking away, clearing his throat.

And why would he tell you if not to bond with you?

It's not about seducing you, it's about opening up a little and talk about his experience. He's already trying to be honest with you, because it's the first time in so long that he can allow himself to be honest. His face is particularly vulnerable when he admits it after he killed you during that first snack.

Should I also mention the fact that he never installs his tent in a lonely corner like Shadowheart or Lae'zel or even Wyll sometimes do? He's always, at least, close to another companion, if not in the middle of camp. Of course, it could be a question of feeling safer if the others are around, but I nonetheless think it's quite telling about his need to belong within this little group of weirdos. Likewise, a certain number of banters in Act 1 indicate that he does want to have innocent interactions with the group.

And finally, let's go back to the beginning, when you first meet him. As soon as he realises you're not an enemy, he drops his guard, relieved to have found another survivor. He obviously didn't expect you to invite him to join - it didn't even cross his mind because who would want him as part of a group? - but he quickly accepts to join "the herd". Not being alone anymore could be a good idea, right?

You could expect that after two hundred years of slavery and torment, one would be much more wary, keeping to oneself, keeping their distance with the others. But not Astarion, no. Because whether he admits it or not, he craves companionship. He craves attention - not for his looks, but for his individuality. He craves acceptance.

He joins you, first installs his tent in the centre of camp, he makes himself useful for the group, he wants to talk to you almost every night, he tries to bond with you in the most awkward ways and shares his enthusiasm for his newfound freedom. Yes, he wants to seduce you to make sure you won't let him down, but beyond that, there's a deep need for bonding, and to feel like he belongs somewhere. And if at first he probably thinks he only belongs in your bed as a good fuck, through all your interactions he begins to understand that he belongs beside you as a partner, as a friend and simply, as a person. He needs emotional support, he finds it in you, and even finds himself capable of giving emotional support. You trust him, and this trust is precious because it means you see him as a valuable person, not just a Swiss knife or a pretty thing. And it means he can trust you too. And it also means that, maybe, the world isn't as cruel as he was made to believe.

[natalchartnurtures]

Pick-A-Tarot Meme! What Are Your Person's Thoughts About You?

~~~~~~~<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3~~~~~~~<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3~~~~~

Cuz we can't have enough of these :p

____

Pile 1:

Gosh pile one.. your person seems to be soooooooo IN THEIR HEAD about you right now.. like i got so dizzy as i started your reading wtf like what's happening here? Let's find out together yea?

Mmm ok. It seems like they have FeElingS for you but it's like.. their feelings are causing them to get in their head? Maybe their terrified of emotional vulnerability or something?

Pile 1, is your person a tough cookie or likes to present as one? Cuz if so you're the one who cracks them!

You'll be the one who gets through to their heart and they low key know thiss somewhere at the back of their mind and.. I guess THAT'S WHY they're feeling so utterly anxious. They don't wanna fuck it up this connection I hear. I'm also getting that your person doesn't really feel much for people in general like if at all even. They're giving me aromantic energy ooooor maybe they've just been really closed off to romance maybe cuz of somw really and I mean REALLY bad experiences.

But. Something about you. Just. Unlocked. something inside of them and now they're FREAKING OUT lol. They're all "this wasn't part of the plan what the hell!" But in cute way lmao.

I see them veiwing you as a bit of a tower moment in their life right now and I'm not sure they're enjoying it very much. They may limit interaction with you at this point in time or if yall are together/dating they maybe a more defensive than usual but this is because they feel out of control (since they attach control with no feelings) cuz they genuinely care and could love you (like crazy)

Wow. Um this person doesn't have thoughts about you. They have mental breakdowns and panick attacks about you 😂😂😭😭 (it's not funny, but it kinda is 🙃)

This person prolly never felt this way (or expected to) about somebody and now it seems as if they're jus.. spazzing lol. They maybe an air moon or air dominant (especially low octave Aquarius energy) cuz these people tend to spazz when they catch feelings XD

Like they're having mental spasms and they don't know what to do when it comes to you. They seem like they're a fish out of water when it comes to you..

Broooo but when they're not busy spazzing abour you and their feelings for you.. they have deep passionate thoughts, mostly at nighttime, when this person feels safe I heard. Ooh. Interesting. Yea they're soooooo attracted to you and your body (lmao) they drool from the wet dreams they have about you 🤣

But I don't think you know this (which is why youre here reading this PAC lol) Also bro. this person LOVES you. Loves everything about you. Oh it's so precious. I hope they heal whatever wound that's stopping them from being with you cuz they genuinely want to be with you (their words not mine) no matter how much they try to deny it- out of whatever fear they're experiencing.. but yea let's hope your person finds the courage they need to heal so they can make their way towards you!

Love and light, to you my friend and thanks for reading!

____

Pile 2:

Ah it's my romantic pile 🥰

They love to think about you like all day, everyday.. I'm sitting and stirring in the energy of this person's love for you rn and man.. it's so NICE and warm and fuzzy and just.. pure. This person has probably thought about your future together and fantasized about you in every possible scenario when it comes to ya'lls life together. Very cute, pile 2. They have most of their thoughts at nighttime? Even though they spend alllll day thinking of you, it usually amplifies at night. I see them basking in their delicious feels for you (awwww stop this is way too cute!)

BRO they daydream about cuddling you! (you didn't hear it from me 🙃😉) ahhhhh they love the thought of you in their hoodie just basking in the bliss yall feel together for each other.. gosh so precious!! ><

It's like they think you complete them.. like you're their other half..

Bro. Wtf. I just heard the name Jake Gyllenhaal? Idk take that if it resonates lmao

AH I'm also hearing Sunset Blvd By Selena Gomez?

And Rare by Selena Gomez too so take them if you feel like it's significant for you :)

Ok! I'm getting something interesting now.. pile 2, arr you in a situationship with this person? Or maybe a friendship but yall caught feelings and now things are kinda awkward? Or maybe they tried to push you away and chose themselves over this connection at some point? Whatever the case, there seems to be HISTORY between the both of ya'll. And whatever went down, TRUST ME your person is feeling terrible about it. I see them process you guy's past through their thoughts and I see them becoming aware of everything did (or didn't do) in this connection and I see them taking accountability! Don't we love a self-aware king/queen? Lovely news! They want to be with you! Like you're front and center in their mind right now and they're gonna do everything in their power to not only clear up things with but also begin something brand new with you. If you guys are looking for a relationship then that would mean that this person will reach out and ask you out for the first time 👀

They'll be doing this at their own speed lol (differs for everybody reading)

Or.. say if you're just looking for closure then I see this person reaching out for a heart to heart after a few days/weeks of laying low for a bit. For this to be coming out rn.. I think that they're thinking about this right now as you're reading this. Ooh exciting heheheheheheheh

I love this for you pile, 2!

Love and light, to you my friend thanks for reading!

____

Pile 3:

Ooh.. pile 3, your person is doing some serious thinking! Phew! Let's get in.

Most of their thoughts are about your softness.. they find it really healing tbh.. they absolutely love how they can be themselves around you and you receive them just as they are. Plain and simple. Ah. It nourishes them. They think of you as a comforting figure who is human embodiment of a big warm loving hug. Aw pile 3, this is lovely energy. I'm hearing the song- By Your Side by Sade so check it out if you feel called to!

You're a place of respite for this person tbh. This person thinks that you're a wonderful person to talk to (about literally anything!) Bestie vibes tbh BUT this pile has such a sutble and sweet romantic vibe underneath the friendly tenderness (if your asking about a romantic interest) that is shared among the two of you when you connect. I heard that they think you're not like the other people they've met before. So maybe they've met a lot of people who didn't care about them or maybe their childhood lacked a certain quality of love and care which.. you give to this person. And they honestly can't be more grateful to you for that. Aw. This warms my heart. It's kinda sad but it's sooo precious too?

You make them wanna care about people again. You make them wanna care about life again. You make them wanna LOVE AGAIN.

You've managed to build a space for this person to feel safe and this has been a rare commodity in this person's life like I cannot stress that enough, pile 3. Pat yourself on the back please you've done a wonderful job here :)

You're so patient and loving with them it's almost as if it's otherworldly... angelic almost.

You make them wanna truly believe again. Ah. So beautiful. They hold a lot of reverence and respect for you and your mind. They love how you function. They love you. A lot it seems like.

Love and light, to you my friend thanks for reading

____

[nataliasquote]

Honesty pt.2 | n romanoff

mac and cheese queen | pt.1

summary: a frosty interaction with Natasha is not out of the ordinary, but it’s really not welcome. But in Yelena’s eyes, there’s nothing that mac and cheese can’t fix… mostly

pairings: enemies-to…, (Nat, O!C), yelena belova x best!friend! OC

wc: 2.5k

note: hiii :) part 2 for you. more nat interactions will be coming, you just have to be patient

-⧗-

"I need to be more interesting." Kaia sighed as she adjusted the waistband of her leggings, making eye contact with her best friend through the large mirror. Yelena just laughed and placed down her phone, pulling one knee up to her chest.

"You? More interesting? You make me feel like a dusty old dictionary sitting next to the newest bestselling novel. If you get more interesting I'm gonna have to start building houses in Africa." Kaia stopped changing her music and peered over her shoulder at her dramatic friend, the upbeat pop music coming to an abrupt pause.

The young dancer had hired out a studio room so she could practice and dragged Yelena along as her personal hype woman who would also listen to her mile long list of critiques as she watched herself dance in the mirror. As she improv-ed to the music, thoughts of dancing in college swirled in her mind, the endless days of dance and music enticing her future.

"Yelly please, you're the most interesting person I know. No one else could have so many stories to tell me on a daily basis, when we spend every waking moment together."

Yelena tossed her braid over her shoulder, wiggling her eyebrows. "Well, I did take most of the personality in the house. Gotta make up for the fact that I'm not Natasha somehow."

Kaia picked up her phone again, scrolling through her improv playlist on spotify. Her body was itching to move and she couldn't stand still even as she shuffled the songs, her hips swaying back and forth. "Wow I didn't know this was a therapy session." She quipped, slightly rolling her eyes.

"Well yes, you use dance as therapy, I use you as a therapist. That way you can dance out both of our problems."

The brunette stood still for a moment, listening to the song that played through her speaker. But the faint grumbles coming from the blonde across the room made her strut over and hold out her hands.

"What?"

"Dance with me." Kaia whined with a pout. Difficult to resist.

"Kyyyy I don't dance. You know that."

"I'm sure baby ballet Yelena is still in there somewhere." She teased, grabbing her best friend's wrists and hauling her up from the floor. But her task proved difficult when Yelena made her body go limp, meaning Kaia felt like she was pulling around a sack of potatoes. "Yel, please."

Yelena was an incredibly tough girl, but one thing she couldn't resist was Kaia. They were close enough to be lovers and sisters at the same time, which confused people a lot of the time. They would wander round stores hand in hand, earning disapproving looks from elderly people who couldn't help but be homophobic, but it was exactly the reaction they wanted. Something about pissing off old people made the perfect saturday afternoon entertainment.

"Ky I don't dance. End of." She shoved her hands under her butt and gave her friend a glare, but this did nothing but spur Kaia onwards.

"Okay well last time I checked you weren't Chad from High School Musical, so shush, and I'll help you!" Yelena still didn't budge, although her lips twitched into a smile at the high school musical reference. "Lenaaa..."

"I hate you, you know that right?" Kaia let out a squeal as Yelena stood up, adjusting her jeans so they sat more comfortably around her waist. Her khaki vest and jeans combo weren't the best for dancing, but Kaia didn't care less at all. It was a miracle that Yelena wanted to dance at all, seeing as she'd sworn off it for years.

"No. You love me. Now come on." Kaia dragged her into the middle of the studio as 'Walking on Sunshine' started playing through the speakers, the upbeat happy tempo immediately pulling out a smile on her face. "You can't dance to this song with a frown like that!" She yelled over the music.

"Try me bitch!" Yelena started mumbling along with the words as Kaia danced around stupidly, grabbing her hands in an attempt to turn the blonde around in an awkward spin.

In their duo, Yelena was the singer. She had a deep raspy voice that Kaia loved, but every time she was asked to sing Yelena would go silent. So in the privacy of their soundproof studio, Yelena let herself go.

"I'm walking on sunshine..."

"OHHH!" Kaia echoed.

"I'm walking on sunshine..."

"Woahhhhh!"

"I'm walking on sunshine!" Yelena moved to do a shimmy with Kai, who returned it gleefully as she echoed once more.

"And don't it feel GOOD!"

"HEY!" With a burst of spontaneous energy, the brunette whipped out a quick aerial, spinning back around to launch herself at Yelena.

"Talented ass bitch." Yelena muttered. But Kai just planted a huge kiss on her cheek, throwing her arms around her neck.

"Awww I love you Yelly!" Yelena squirmed out of her grip, holding her best friend at arms length by the shoulders.

"You're being weird. Why are you being weird?" She narrowed her eyes but Kaia just laughed, dancing over to her phone as the song came to an end.

"I'm not the weird one. You are."

"Am not."

"Are too!"

"Not!"

"Are!"

"I hate you."

"I know." Kai disconnected her phone and quickly slipped on her converse. "It's 6pm. Wanna grab dinner?"

"If you're really asking me if I want to get food with you, then I need to rethink our friendship. Plus, I've been wanting mac and cheese since we got here, so you owe me that." Yelena was pulling faces at herself in the mirror as she spoke, wandering aimlessly around the studio as she tried to keep herself entertained, knowing just how long Kaiiarina took to get ready.

"Then let's go."

The dance school was buzzing with activity as the summer school's extra classes meant more kids danced throughout the day. The girls only had a few more weeks before they left for college so they spent their days in summer doing whatever they wanted. Which... in Kaia's case, meant days at the dance studio.

They chatted together as they made their way down the stairs, smiling at some of the young girls who ran past giggling in their baby pink leotards. They reminisced of how they used to be that small, spotting a wild haired blonde girl who resembled Yelena far too closely. She dragged her feet as she followed her friends, pulled harshly at her leotard with disgust.

"Oh surprise surprise." Yelena whispered loudly, placing an arm infront of Kaia to halt them both on the bottom step.

"What?" The blonde pointed across the room to where a familiar redhead was signing her name in the register book, talking intently to the tall girl stood next to her. "Oh."

"I swear she's put a gps tracker in my brain. I can't get a break!" Yelena exclaimed, but still keeping her voice low. It was like they were hiding from a lion in the rushes, staying low and quiet, not wanting to startle the hunting and deadly predator. Kaia didn't want to become dinner today.

"We can just walk past quickly. She won't notice." Kaia said in a hushed tone, adjusting the strap of her bag. "Plus, it's not like she's going to want to talk to you when she sees you're with me."

"Ky you know she's gonna make a jab comment at you."

Kaia just shrugged and stepped down, holding her head up high as she walked towards the sliding doors. Her ponytail swung and her envious jawline was on show. She was stunning, there was no doubt, but clearly Natasha didn't see that. Just blinded by hatred.

Yelena rushed after her friend, falling into step beside her just in time to hear Nat's low and raspy voice call out.

"What are you doing here?" Her tone was blunt, not a single ounce of care about how rude she was being come over at all. The taller blonde girl stood next to the redhead turned away, not wanting to involve herself in the conversation.

"Probably for the same reason you're here." Kaia quipped, stopping so she was face to face with Nat. Well, almost. The redhead was slightly taller, but that didn't phase Kaia. She was sure in herself, and Natasha didn't scare her. "It's a dance school. I'm a dancer. I came to dance"

"Well no shit Sherlock," Nat said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Getting last minute practice in before college? You'll need to spend more hours in the studio if you want to keep up. It's an intense course, I would know."

"Yes, you would know because you're the dance captain. We've all heard you before. Now can you stop harassing my best friend and leave her alone because she owes me mac and cheese and my stomach is gonna start eating itself. So thank you, dearest sister, but we will be leaving." Yelena grabbed Kaia's arm and dragged her away, mumbling about mac and cheese the whole way to the car.

"Lena I can walk on my own you know." Kaia grumbled, rubbing the sore spot on her bicep where the blonde had dug her fingers in rather hard.

"Well you have yet to prove that to me whenever Nat is around. It's like she glues your feet to the floor."

"Okay now you're being dramatic. I don't want to be around Nat any longer than I have to be. Your sister is a dementor. She sucks the life out of me with every word because I know she just wants to make comments." She chucked her car keys into the cup holder and passed Yelena the charger, which she accepted gratefully, knowing her phone would be nearly dead.

"Okay I love the chit chat, but let's drive. I was being serious about my stomach earlier."

The mac and cheese house lit up in the distance as Kaia pulled into a parking space, barely switching her car off before Yelena opened the door. She ran inside, not even checking if her friend was following her before taking a big deep breath of the smell that hit her nostrils as she hauled open the large glass doors.

She started humming 'I'm In Heaven' under her breath as she read the huge menu boards, which was ridiculous considering her order was planned out from the moment Kaia pressed play on the first track she danced to.

Classic Mac with a generous helping of hot sauce. The first time she ordered the server looked at her in disgust, but she made him try it and his life was changed ever since. Anyone who doubts her flavour combination is forced to try it, due to her stubborn nature.

"You ordered yet?" Kaiiarina asked, suddenly appearing being her friend, startling her slightly.

"Shush. I'm considering my options."

"You're gonna get something new?" Yelena hummed in agreement. "We both know that's not gonna happen."

"I hate it when you're right." She huffed.

"I know. Now go order." Kaia shoved Yelena forward and then went to grab a table by the window, so she could people watch as she waited for food. No need to tell Lena her order; that girl had everything mac and cheese ordered.

The brunette pulled out her phone and replied to a couple of texts, including one from her mother asking how long she would be out for. Her curiosity got the best of her and she clicked on the message, replying back rather quickly. Her mother almost never messaged her, so it caught her by surprise.

But the mysterious 'I'll tell you once you're home' message that she received back made her feel slightly sick, but luckily Yelena came to the rescue.

"One toasted Mac and Cheese for the exhausted and malnourished prima ballerina," she announced with a flourish, placing the steaming pot on the table in front of Kaia, her face lighting up.

"Ohohohoh that smells divine!" Yelena agreed, shovelling a forkful of pasta in her mouth, chattering her teeth and letting out puffs of air as it was still boiling hot. "And I'm not malnourished. You don't make that possible."

"I'm too good to you."

Their conversation lessened significantly as they began eating, the flavours of their mac and cheese exploding on their tongues and distracting them from forming words and sentences to converse.

But they didn't need to talk. They'd been best friends for so long that nothing ever felt awkward, not even sitting in silence. They were comfortable just being in each other's company, which was good considering they were never apart.

Yelena finished her mac and cheese in half the time it took Kaia, so she started stealing her own forkfuls now and again, moaning at how hot sauce was a complete necessity.

"You can't steal my food and then complain about it That's really not how this works."

"I can and I will. So deal with it." There were only a couple of bites left and Kaia pushed her pot away, completely stuffed. But wasting food wasn't her concern around Yelena. That girl was a human vacuum, and somehow still managed to stay in impeccable shape. Probably due to the hours she spent on soccer in highschool and now college.

"I hate to cut this short, but my mom wants me home. She said some weird cryptic message and it's slowly eating my alive." Kaia huffed, tapping the screen of her phone and rolling her eyes at the messages that had appeared.

Yelena burst out laughing, clamping her hand quickly over her mouth. "Sorry." She sniggered, pulling odd faces to try and stop her laugher. "It's just that guy behind you almost walked into the door because it didn't open fast enough."

Kaia swivelled round in her seat, a smile tugging at her lips as she saw the disgruntled middle-aged man storming off in a huff, a bag of food tucked under his arm.

"As mad as I am you interrupted me, that was funny."

"Allow me to provide the quality entertainment."

"I need to stop saying that. It's gonna make your head even bigger." Yelena's jaw dropped as she rubbed her hands over her head, shielding it from Kaiiarina's eagle eyes.

"I do not have a big head!" The blonde exclaimed, her usually disguised russian accent subtly seeping through as her voice cracked. "You're just being mean!"

"I am, but it's only because I love you. Now come on bitch, if you want a lift home we need to go now before my mother sends anymore dumb messages."

"Yes sir." Yelena saluted at her best friend before getting up from the table, chucking their empty containers in the recycling. "Taylor Swift jam session?"

"Are you even asking me?"

"Fuck yeah."

[verdancy-hime]

I don't think we need to eliminate them I think just not doing what they want is okay. Mostly that's about women not getting hurt. An individual woman might feel rage. You can if you want. Specifically against really shitty men who have done things to you or your friends or your relatives or like

Specifically it's the dog pile guys for me.

The ones who jump on and in to invalidate whatever you went through and blame you for whatever happened

There was this woman on tiktok who got hit in the head with a brick.

She refused to give some guy her number so he hit her in the head with a brick. She had to go to the er.

She was yelling with a hole in her head at the men outside the club who just stood there watching her get hit and did nothing and it went viral.

This guy who never fucking met her went on tiktok claiming that because she did some skit on tiktok that she was a troublemaker who everyone knew and who had it coming.

He claimed to be from her neighborhood and know her and said he was there.

Another person proved that was 100% untrue.

That guy.

Whatever makes men do that because they know it will benefit them?

I hate that a lot.

If I were designing a punishment I would make those men literally invisible to women.

Like

You cannot in real life or online interact with women.

But really? It's not a punishment cuz those guys hate women so much they drive women away from them on purpose.

It does serve the purpose of keeping women from getting hurt by their shit though.

Like I decided to be 4b other than my job. I can't quit my job for reasons.

One of them is unfortunately women have always hated me even before the men turned on me.

I have a terrible personality and only people who want to pay me for sex can stand me but I need to eat and be away from people so they don't get hurt so we do what we have to do.

But like

4b is about accepting that romantic love isn't real, men will literally take over the government and take away your legal rights even when the science exists for them to completely replace you in their own lives because they hate you so much that the idea that you could be happy even with them makes them so angry that any time you are happy they have to fuck things up so that you are angry and yell at them.

It's about accepting that the pay gap is real and it's designed specifically to try to force women to choose between a "bear" market and poverty and a man who hates them.

It's about accepting that feminism never really happened it's just some kind of weird play they do to gaslight younger women into thinking they chose their cage of their own free will.

It's about accepting that most men see women as sources of labor and not as people or even sexual objects and they mostly have sex with women to punish them or keep them in line.

It's about accepting that you were lied to about the world and nothing will ever happen to you when you believe love is real but agony.

Sex is real.

Sex work is real.

Labor trafficking is real.

Men who want women only to have a baby are real.

The rest is just fake.

Why would you not be 4b if it turns out the bs are in a giant conspiracy to hurt you on purpose so they can publicize the instructions and they don't have to pay money to try to punish you for being happy around them?

The only rational response to the world I personally live in, at least is to become a pornosexual and never date kiss or have sex again.

If I wasn't being stalked by weird assholes I would have stayed a sex worker because the only sane response to living in a world where romantic love is labor trafficking and they won't let you get and keep a stable job unless your income is going to a man's benefit is to be a sex worker so at least you can charge and no man wants you.

You get all the good stuff that way and none of the bad stuff.

But they came along and shat on that, too. And tortured me for four years. Which is proof that no matter what you do, someone will force you to be miserable doing it.

But that's not really because of men. I know because a lot of the people torturing me over the years have been women. They did it for patriarchal reasons but they were women.

If you have to have a tribe of people who will torture you for sport for not begging them for approval but also won't give you approval and will still torture you it doesn't matter if it's men or women or one person or a group or a hivemind.

No matter what you do you will be miserable so it's best to just focus on making sure that you get killed by those people as soon as possible since they all hate you so much.

rich men succeeded at making the average man turn against the average women (which isn't that difficult because men are fucking stupid) so now regular working class men have been attacking women, bitching about feminism, and they want to end our rigjt to vote and work so we can be dependent on them and have all their chimp babies. it isn't just the wealthy men who are ruining society, regular men are too. they are all class traitors and must be eliminated

[mirrren]

Major spoilers for ep 17 of 911

Ughhhhh okay I’m gonna get beat up for saying this but we throw around words like “gaslight” and “narcissist” so much online that sometimes I feel like there are a lot of people that don’t entirely realize what those words mean. Allow me to give a perfect example, from someone who was raised by a narcissist (hi daaadddd): watch the newest 911 episode and listen to the way Eddie talks to Buck when Buck gets home. I’m not even going to get into the train wreck of an argument they had before, no, for now we’re just focusing on the after.

Something narcissists love to do when they know they’re in the wrong is to shift focus. They’ll give you a gift they know you like, or take you somewhere special, all while ignoring the elephant in the room. It’s a way to manipulate your emotions. You’re so mad at them and then woah! Now you’re going to a fancy restaurant or you have a new diamond necklace. Or someone you miss has just come home from Texas. What a big family reunion this is. It’s a way to make them feel better about themselves, make them seem like the good guy. Remember in Tangled when mother gothel and repunzel got into an argument about seeing the lights, and then mother gothel came back home she announced she was going to make hazelnut soup? She doesn’t bring up the argument until she notices that her “gift” hasn’t shifted the blame effectively. Now, in Eddie’s case it actually works, and Buck doesn’t bring up their argument, so Eddie gets the glory of being the good guy.

Let’s rewind a little bit now. Folded sheets and a note that says “gone to the airport.” Do you fold your sheets when you sleep on a friend’s couch? Maybe if you’re polite. But the inclusion of this detail better serves as a way to hint to the audience that Eddie may be gone forever. Still it works to prove that Eddie had malicious intent. He could’ve put the note on the fridge. He could’ve written “brb” or hell, maybe even texted Buck to let him know. But he didn’t, I wonder why? Gaslighting 101 tells you that if you want to actually make someone feel like they’re crazy it has to be significant and insignificant at the same time. You can’t just say “no” and expect someone to be efficiently gaslighted. If you want to manipulate someone it has to be plausible, something you can twist or something you know they’ll forget. I was born at 10:50 but my dad always insisted I was born at 11. He was able to gaslight me through this because he knew 1. I didn’t have proof and 2. It was so close in time that it really didn’t matter. A few years ago he started to say I was born at 10:50 and any time I tried to argue that he always said 11 before, he would deny. I didn’t have proof that he said that, and I felt like I was going crazy.

Now, mirrren, you ask, what does your traumatic backstory have to do with Eddie Díaz of 911 fame? Hang on I’ll get to it. When buck came home surprised that Eddie was there, Eddie said “my note said I was going to the airport. The airport and Texas are not the same. They don't even have the same amount of letters in their—” which is true, but he never said he was going to be back either. It’s his tone that gets me. “Buck is so stupid for not realizing that he was coming back, Buck should’ve known, Buck is so lucky I’m around because I’m the only thing keeping him attached to sanity, I am a great person for doing this to Buck.” It’s patronizing, and it’s insulting. Narcissists do this a lot. Most of what makes gaslighting insanity inducing is the fact that the manipulator makes you feel like you’re stupid, like you’re just a kid. Maybe Eddie wasn’t intending to manipulate Buck, but his words and his tone indicate the opposite. If he wanted to make Buck feel like he left to Texas that’s still messed up for a friend to do. Even if I shipped buddie I would feel that way. Because this interaction was just so similar to how my dad made me feel every day of my life.

It’s understandable if those of you didn’t know that this behavior was a red flag. I don’t want to hate on any buddie shippers out there. But this behavior is concerning, even if it’s just a plot device or bad writing, it’s indicative of unfavorable characteristics and I can’t support Eddie after that interaction. I know it was an apology. He says “heard some dick was being mean to you” and sure I guess that is apologizing but does he ever say sorry? Does he even say that it was him that’s being mean? And if he did say sorry, or even if he did say it was him, what kind of apology is that? Make your best friend think you’ve left forever just to return with two people you know he likes? Nah I’m still mad, bud.

I had a lot more I wanted to say, but this is already so goddamn long I’ll cut it short here.

[lucabyte]

In the personal bias section of your essay. You said you see the dude™ issue reflected in Siffrin. Can you say more about your view on that? I want to see where you're coming from.

(context: poast)

Re: this passage

PERSONAL BIAS NOTE: Not included in this analysis since this is more a Pet Theme of my own (usually kept quarantined to the realms of my OCs), but something else I see in Siffrin is a reflection of the Dude Issue(tm) of patriarchal irl society disincentivisng Dudes(tm) from ever fucking introspecting ever. I'm curious about nonbinary/trans characters who have no idea they’re nonbinary/trans because they’ve been disincentivised from thinking/doubting their identity due to societal power structures or simply tradition. I dig around the themes of “a lot of guys are trapped in a societal prison without ever knowing and it makes them miserable but they can’t escape because they don’t even see the cage” like, a lot, in my personal work. It intrigues me. So bleh, cards on the table there. That mode of interacting with nb/trans characters is one I'm inclined to. This kinda goes hand in hand with the watsonian vs doylist situation i took an aside to mention. But it is so far along the doylist side that I didn't want to include it, since it is a little too assumptive of the text for my comfort. I don't think the game necessarily has much commentary on this specific Societal Bind. But if it does, then hey, there's my thoughts on it.

This is worded rather short and tossed at the end as a disclaimer of sorts, but i also kept it short because it isn't *super* relevant to my conclusions from the piece. It's there to like, basically serve to check myself since I know it's a theme I Personally Like Exploring-- But I don't actually see as affecting this read much.

But, to elaborate anyway.

What do I mean by this?

So this like. presumably already has a name in feminist theory or something since i'm far from the first person to point it out, but it's a theme I write a lot with my own ocs. I have a spate of characters who are all like-- Mid 30s at the very least-- and are basically queer people who are not super in-tune with their own labels. Notably I have quite a number of "guy" characters who would be nonbinary if they knew what that was AND were emotionally intelligent enough to apply it to themselves.

This is like, distinctly something rooted in observing older, kind of repressed men, but in general is just this idea of emotionally intelligent introspection VERSUS it being societally disincentivised to do just that. It's kind of a dam-breaking effect, y'know? If you're marginalised in one way (gender, sexuality, neurotype, disability, class, *) you can often start spotting ways that related taboos are bullshit, and this may make you either deconstruct those too, or put walls up harder.

* (this is something where race is really complex though since it has to wrestle with how racial identity and masculinity interect, so, it's kind of its own thing here. It DOES factor in, just in a completely diff way thats more delicate)

So in the case of masculinity being something that is oft Actively Dangerous to undermine in your identity (threatens to strip you of rights and basic respect if you Break it), it's one of those things where it can be really, really hard to break into as one of the things to start introspecting about. Even IF you have other things, like sexuality, to set you on the path to maybe deconstructing it.

2. Why I think it DOESN'T apply much to ISAT

This is the watsonian vs doylist point I allude to. ISAT's gender politics (usually exemplified via Isabeau) are informed by the real world's, yes, as all art kind of has to be-- But it's very intentionally egalitarian of a setting. And the writing itself keeps this up spectacularly, with its female characters being well written and equal to their male/ish peers. It's clearly Not Really what the story is Super About. So, it's clearly not the correct lens to view ISAT's deconstructions of masculinity through, since it's more focused on a deconstruction-via-progressive-setting. So trying to read too hard into it is a bit of a fool's errand.

3. Where i think it DOES apply to ISAT

Despite this, there are a few looming spectres of masculinity-as-oppressive-force. Mostly The King choosing to fucking name himself that. It's an invocation of our real-world associations of kings as 1. a thing that requires you be a Man and 2. kings being despotic tyrants who enforce their will over others. This is something where it's less to do with ISAT's Watsonian Lore-based opinions on gender, and more to do with weaponising Our Real-World Doylist understandings of Ruling Masculinity As Opressor.

4. And Siffrin?

Like I say above, the situations wrt: masculinity as a "bad" thing in any way are entirely Doylist in ISAT-- Which means I only really see Siffrin's Repression-due-to-dude-ness as like, effectively an Out-Of-Universe thing? I don't think that, In Universe, Siffrin's hangups about being a guy are to do with his gendered upbringing-- I think they are more generalised hangups about being unable to desire change because that's Selfish and Scary.

ie. i would take the assumption here that Siffrin is taking their birth gender somewhat at face value because it's their birth gender and not because of which specific one it is. (Aside: this is one of the things that actually makes intersex siffrin work super well as an extrapolation of themes, btw. That idea of coerced assignment and feeling stuck with it-- but the lens I was working with in that essay is called 'Actual Intentionalism', which I don't think this read fits. HOWEVER. it works really fucking well well as a Reader-Response interpretation)

*But*, i feel that this Universe-Belief-Induced Disincentivization works extremely well when viewed as a Mirror or Parallel to the Real World Effects of masculinity being treated as an exclusive club* you have to be very careful to not lose the keys to-- or you will be punished socially.

It's less about me thinking this is What Siffrin Has Going On In-Universe, and more how I feel it parallels the IRL experience of Being Afraid To Ditch Masculinity For Fear Of Retribution

(* Exclusive and careful here, as in, trying to Gain (white) Masculinity (as say, a transmasc, intersex individual, or amab racial minority) is also counted as a transgression, as you are seen as stealing, but losing it is very, very easy. It's about power and control. It's also something where IRL, it's also very heavily tied into ideas of Modern 21st Century Whiteness, something ISAT does not really explore, opting instead to investigate the breath of fresh air that is focusing on immigrant diaspora identity as a struggle regardless of how 'welcoming' the culture you immigrated to is of you)

This is. Not super coherent so i apologise? But yeah. It's mostly a disclaimer about how I feel I have some biases towards exploring this theme so much (since I write a lot about characters who are either Literally In The Modern Real World or in settings that are the modern real world but with the absolute lightest coat of paint), but recognise that ISAT is intentionally going for something else-- While still being informed (as all art is) by our current and contemporary moment, so investigating it in a Total Vaccum is. also kind of silly. Lol

TL;DR:

THE STRUCTUAL CONCEPT OF (WHITE HEGEMONIC) MASCULINITY IN THE REAL WORLD IS A COMPLICATED THING, BUT TRYING TO STRAY FROM IT AS AN AMAB INDIVIDUAL IS HIGHLY DISINCENTIVISED. WHILE I DO NOT THINK ISAT IS MAKING MUCH OF A STATEMENT ABOUT THIS INTENTIONALLY, I THINK SIFFRIN'S FEAR OF CHANGE DUE TO ASSUMING THEY WILL BE 'PUNISHED' IN SOME WAY FOR DESIRING IT MAKES FOR A NICE METAPHOR/MIRROR TO THE TRANSFEMME OR AMAB GNC EXPERIENCE, BUT DOES NOT REALLY INFORM MY OVERALL ARGUMENT FOR AMAB NB SIFFRIN/TRANSFEMME LOOP.

but yeah uh. hope that helps. a lot of what im circling around is super tied up in modern idpol so. i will be honest this approaches the edge of depth on how much i can explain without just pointing you to like actual feminist and queer theory as well as literary analysis 101, bc at this point i am just regurgitating that in a less well written manner LOL. and no i dont even have any sources to hand because i AM a little hack fraud, sorry lmao. but yahoo. genderrrrr

[doodler16]

I don't understand Valentino fans, like i get that liking a character doesn't automatically mean you approve of their actions, but at the same time I can't help but wonder ''Really out of all the characters who are despicable in this show YOU choose the one whose entire personality revolves around being a RAPIST?". Valentino isn't the only rapist character in media and in fact there are many other characters, who are also very popular, despite being rapists. Examples of this are Walter White and Homelander, but even there their entire personality isn't revolved around being rapists and they're also not sex trafficers. So while I don't think harassing Valentino fans is right i also believe some of them act very entilted. If i was a Valentino fan i don't think i would blame people for blocking or because they don't want to produce fan merch of my favorite character. Yet Valentino fans act as if you had just murdered their entire family when you point out these things.

If people like Valentino and don’t defend him that’s fine, me personally I won’t judge. Despite being critical of him, I do get why people enjoy Valentino (whether it’s his design, voice acting: even though the voice direction suck ass in my opinion, his interaction with Vox, etc).

However, I don’t blame anyone in or outside of the fandom giving side eye to Valentino fans especially the stans. The lengths the stans go to defend him or romanticize his actions is just ridiculous. Don’t get me started on their usernames, they got the most craziest usernames ever 🤣.

At this point, you are asking to be blocked. I’m hoping season 2 gives Valentino more character besides personified rapist. If I don’t see any improvement then I might have unironically skim through the r/Valentino cult to get my answers.

[cosmicties]

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Ineffable Bonds, Dulcet Whispers ↬ Chapter 1 - Swindled

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a/n: hi, hello, how are you all? welcome to my most recent bout of hyperfixation! before anything else, i would advise you all to go to the main post about this series for a summary and general warnings. this is the first chapter and nothing is planned out so i don't know how long this will be. i just hope you enjoy the ride we'll be going to partake in. the boys don't make an appearance on this one as this chapter is about setting the situation for our dear reader.

warnings: f!reader, morbid thoughts, hybrids and mentions of their treatment in this highly prejudiced society, mentions of illegal activities.

wc: 4.5k

↬ main post | chapter 2 ( tba )

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Guilt was sticky, clinging to your throat as you drove to the villain’s grandparents house. Well, if they could even be called a villain that was. Your friend had never told you exactly what they did to the main character, just that they ended up dying due to being too close to them. The game had been quite dark, with love interests that were more obsessive and possessive than romantic. If it had been in written form instead of in game form, you probably would have devoured it. But your thing was more books and fanfiction than games or OVA’s.

And now here you were, stuck in the role of the game’s main antagonist - the grandaughter of the owner’s of the Hybrid Sanctuary where the game took place in. Something about the main character volunteering there and the male interests - all hybrids ( so far, you didn’t know if anyone else had been added since ), met and then got all obsessed and protective over each other. There were a lot of different routes that one could take, but the most popular so far had been the reverse harem one.

At least according to your friend, you had never played the game yourself. But Ami had been gushing over it for the past two weeks, which, yes you have listened to… randomly… with only one ear as it was. And now you were reaping the fruits of your half attentive listening.

Which included guilt thicker than taffy, directed at the two elderly people smiling brightly in your direction the moment you park the car in front of the sanctuary. Never having played the game or even looked at anything of it, only having heard random tidbits from Ami, you didn’t even know if you’ve just replaced their granddaughter or if you had taken over her body and she was just a carbon copy of you. Either way, it felt weird to be given the love that was supposed to go to the antagonist, one so deep and bottomless that it made you want to tear up.

It wasn’t hard to smile back, and that was the root of it. The two were warm, kind people and it made you feel bad that you had taken over their granddaughter’s place. It was pretty strange that they didn’t seem to think nothing was amiss, so maybe that antagonist really was just a normal person that had gotten on the wrong side of dangerous men ( beings? ). That somehow only makes your situation seem even worse and hopeless, but you’re pretty keen in simply not interacting with the main character - that one you know quite a bit about.

Unlike most main characters, she did have a name, she had that same bland, soft and sweet personality that was easy to fall into. But she also had not entered the main route of the story yet, that would happen as soon as she started volunteering at your grandparent’s sanctuary. You were supposed to volunteer there too, apparently had done so for years according to them. But you could not do it anymore, not when it was the key into avoiding the whole death route.

“Morning.” You called out as soon as you were out of the car, the smile now bigger, warmer, and it felt even better than standing in the sun when they hugged you with greetings. You were at a loss of words, trying to hold back the pinpricks of tears that threatened to fall. It had been a while since you had been with your own grandparents, the ones back in your original world. Two of them had already left the mortal coil, the other two lived too far away for random visits, time and work had never been kind to allow for those as much as you would have hoped for.

In this game world, you’ve been given the chance to be a nepo baby. Not only are your grandparents loaded - capital letter loaded, even, the kind that would never become poor even if they lavishly spent it every single day, but you were also riding in the coattails of your parent’s literary hits - apparently your mother was a famous romance author and your father the it person when it came to hybrid biology. To make matters even better, the sanctuary was fully funded by patrons that wanted to make themselves look better in the eyes of society, which meant that although the initial funds had come from your family’s more than filled coffers, they didn’t even need to dip into it.

It translated into you living in your own too big house, parents that loved you unconditionally but kept traveling the world either for interviews or for research and too much time in your hands. Or well, the character’s hands.

It was still… a lot to take in and get used to. You could bet that this kind of out of sorts life that no one but the 0.1% could relate to was to make the main character even further relatable in comparison. And also get some sort of eat the rich kind of satisfaction from the demise of that character. In a way, you could understand it. No one should hold that much wealth in their hands without trying to make the world around them better, but that was exactly what your family was trying to do with the sanctuary.

What your father was trying to do with his trips around the world, showing through scientific papers and interviews that hybrids should have as much of a right to live and freedom as humans did. They were good people, loving people.

At least you were the only one that died from that family in the game, or, well, the character you had now become.

“We had never gotten such a bad storm before.” your grandmother commented with a soft sigh. You were seated at the table, the wide open kitchen plan flanked by windows that gave away to part of the sanctuary grounds. A couple of hybrids were strolling through the paths, waves being given when either your or your grandparent’s attention was caught.

A nod of agreement from your grandfather. “A couple of the houses have taken a lot of damage, and a couple of our electric posts were struck by lightening, which has cut electricity to a part of the sanctuary.”

“Has anyone come here to check on it yet?” you asked with a hum, drinking from the tea and almost burning yourself, not knowing how your grandparents could easily sip from something that was almost the same temperature as lava. Was it some sort of characteristic that you would earn with age? Some old person thing that everyone got once they got through a certain threshold?

“Yes, thankfully we could have someone here right the next day, but they say that the repairs will take more than expected due to how extensive the damages are.” a soft sigh from your grandmother. “They didn’t even budge when we offered to pay them double.”

Oh, the damages should be pretty bad if the idea of double the money hadn’t even made the company budge. And it wasn’t like they could hire a better company, her grandparents never spared any expense when it came to the sanctuary - or anything, really.

Her grandmother continued, “We have a couple of scattered generators around the property, but they were always meant to be for emergencies, not for continued use.” a sip from her tea. “This is an emergency, but I worry that it will not be enough to sustain constant use for everyone. The packs and groups will be fine, they can share resources, but I’m worried for the few that live alone.”

“Is there many of them?” there were a lot of hybrids in the property. You still weren’t aware of just how big the estate was, but you knew it was gigantic. It was the biggest sanctuary in the country, and probably the continent, with interwoven habitats that could hold all kind of hybrids.

It was a marvel of engineering and technology, the best money could buy to make every single hybrid that ended up inside its doors have all they could need. There were smaller homes for those that preferred to live a lone life, and then bigger ones for packs, many of those were fit to certain types of hybrids and their needs. Like how fish hybrids needed some kind of water source and wild beast hybrids preferred to have large areas to roam through.

You didn’t think that the love interests of the game were part of any packs, so that meant that if it was just a handful… then you would have the five men that you had to avoid altogether. Cold sweat broke on the back of your neck, and you tried to keep your hands from shaking in anxiety, deciding that putting the cup of tea down was the best thing you could do.

Finally, your grandmother answered “Around thirty-six hybrids.” you had to blink at that, because when had thirty become a few? That was more than a few. That was more than a whole building of people if they didn’t share a flat! But what were you expecting when there were more than one fifty hybrids living on the grounds? It did put you in a strange sort of stasis, didn’t it? With that many lone hybrids, it meant that you could not know for certain who were the love interests. One in seven… those were the odds, and not in your favor, sadly.

Not being faced with certainty was as relieving as it was anxiety inducing. In a way being faced so suddenly with the people that could lead to your demise did put a damper on things, but now that you were certain you still wouldn’t be sure who they were… It did allow your muscles to loosen.

Another sip from her mug before she continued, “We’re trying to find people to take them over during that month, that way we can focus our resources on the places that truly need it.” That sounded like the best solution for the problem, divide the solo hybrids so that they could be taken care of and keep the quality of life that they were used to. It was one of the main reasons that most hybrids that found themselves on the sanctuary chose not to leave, the other being that the only way they could return to society would be as pets.

Even if there were people that would take the mantle of owners without indulging in the power imbalance that could be imposed, it didn’t mean that their pride and agency wouldn’t be hurt by it all. It was just easier to be in a place that provided for them, gave them a safe space where they could feel like beings and not property. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t even near good enough, but it was more humane than being slapped in the face with the fact that just because they had animal DNA woven into their human one, that they would never be considered rational enough to make their own decisions.

“How is it going?” it was more of an afterthought sort of question, said in soft sighed breath as you took a sip of your own tea.

Your grandfather was the one who answered.

“Most of them have been sent to foster homes without much complaint.” he rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “The last eleven hybrids left have really given us trouble, though. And I don’t think one of the others we’ve sent to the temporary homes is adapting well, Gary has been complaining nonstop about how fussy he is, like he’s expecting to be worshiped now that he is in a solo home.” a tired sigh. “So we’re trying to find another home for that one, as well.”

You winced in sympathy, knowing how hard it must be for both handlers and hybrids to have to adapt to sudden changes like that one.

Your grandmother suddenly straightened on her chair, her thinned lips tilting into an expectant smile that had your heart beating faster. The look in her eyes was the same one that you say many times on Ami, that one she got when she was about to ask you something very difficult that she was highly aware you could do. Something that she was also highly aware of that you would be very reticent to actually take on. You hated that look. Hated even more that the guilt that ate you from the inside out would probably weigh as heavily as your love for your best friend did.

You had never been able to say no to Ami, you doubted you would find it in yourself to say no to your grandmother either. Heck, you’ve been calling her your grandmother in your head for a while now.

“You’ve been all alone in your house all this time, haven’t you, dear?” her voice was soft, warm, with that stickiness that came from being too sweet. That mellowness that everyone held into their tones when they wanted to ask you for something.

“Yes.” the stickiness made you drag that simple word, eyes narrowing as you tried to shield yourself against it.

“And it’s a really large house, is it not?” your grandfather was trying to hide a smile behind a sip of tea, you sent him a betrayed look at his continued silence.

“Yes.” very large. Way too big for just one person to live inside, but that didn’t mean that you wanted to divide it with anyone, let alone a hybrid that could very well be one of the five that would send you to your death.

“And it has quite a few accommodations for hybrids, right?”

You had known where this was going since that look had passed through her eyes, but it still made you pause, still made your heart clench at the fact that… “Yes, it has.” accommodations that you had not touched or done anything with. because you thought you would never use them. Because you thought that they were there because of your parents - which was probably true but also not something you had even considered much.

Because you were not used to hybrids, to having a being that was half human and half wild, with needs that you certainly could not meet because it felt weird. And also because you weren’t sure if you would be staying forever, either by returning to your real world or by failing to stay clear of either the main character or the love interests’ ways. Why get used to a world that was not your own and might not even be for that long of a while?

“Yes, but…” your grandmother was quick to continue before you could get a word in about how so not ready you were to host anyone, let alone a hybrid for a whole month.

“They’re fully self sufficient, you know we try our best to make sure the hybrids learn all they have to be able to live as their own beings.” her hands quickly reached for yours, taking them and giving a squeeze that felt comforting and emotionally manipulating at the same time.

“I know, but…” once again you were stopped, a squeeze of your hands, eyes the same color as yours widening that fraction that gave them the pitying puppy look. The one that made your resolve crumble like it wasn’t even there in the first place.

“We would never ask you something that you could not handle, right, my love?” your grandfather shot up to straighten his posture on his chair, obviously not having expected to be called upon as another layer of manipulation.

But he was a true champ, nodding his head like it had been their plan for the very beginning. Maybe it had been, at least from your grandmother. “Your grandma is right, dear. I’m certain that whoever we send your way will do their utmost best to be a gracious guest.”

Wasn’t the host the one who was supposed to be gracious? Bend over backwards to the guest? Especially when one didn’t know what kind of background it would entail. Some of the hybrids had simply come from shelters when they had become too old to be easily adopted, while others… Hybrid trafficking, illegal fighting rings, hybrid experimentation. There had been too many horror stories mixed with the tame ones, sometimes, they even came in higher quantities than anyone would like.

Your bleeding heart won over your hesitancy.

“I guess I can think of it as having a roommate.” it was said slowly, softly in a way that felt forced in that whole voluntary way. You had been coaxed and wore down, but ultimately, it was your own choice and no one’s else.

A calculating gaze. “Roommates.” her grandmother had the good sense to look sheepish. “We were hoping you would take in the remaining ones.”

Oh, it had so been a planned attack from the beginning! Conniving old people your grandparents were. You wanted to have given those words the negative connotation they deserved, but instead, they had that fondness you could never keep out of thoughts about them. Even when you should.

“I can’t handle so many hybrids!” before your grandmother could get a word in and find a way to twist your conscience into accepting, you followed through. “The house is big, but not big enough for that many. You said they were lone hybrids, right?” an unwilling nod from her grandmother, short and slow but there. “I only have five spare rooms at the home, they certainly wouldn’t be alright with bunking with each other, and there are no houses on the property like there are here.” a smile was given. “Building a few would take too long, longer than you finding them somewhere to stay at.”

Your grandmother pressed her lips together before the smile was back. “Five spare rooms, eh?”

In your haste to defend yourself against taking in twelve hybrids, you might have just given her a tangible, still large number to work with. Your nod was a copy of hers, as slow and short, as if it was dragged out of you. Which it was.

“So you’ll take five of them, right?” it was your grandfather that spoke now, perking up with an equally hopeful look as your grandmother was sporting. “I think Louis built a pond there last year, so you’re the only house that can safely handle Rafayel too.”

You didn’t know who Rafayel was, but you still nodded numbly. This had been a targeted attack, well-strategized and so insidious in its implementation that you could have not prepared for it. It still made you anxious that you didn’t know how the game went, even if you were aware that this was all happening before the official start of it. The main character hadn’t been part of the list of volunteers you had peeked at when you first found out where you were. If this was an event that would prelude the start of everything, then that meant that the chances that the five roommates you had been unwillfully subjected to were the yandere love interests was low, right?

Your defeated sigh made matching winning grins appear on your grandparents’ faces, eliciting a pout from you.

“Yeah, I’ll take them in.”

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Somehow you hadn’t though just how much paperwork you would have to go through to take in the five hybrids, especially when it was just a very temporary measure. You thought that you would just go to the grocery store to set some supply delieveries fit for their species and then go to a hybrid supply store to get some of the more specific supplies and that would be it, instead there were pamphlets about instructions and more than a few forms that you had to sign.

“Dangerous species waiver?” you looked up from the very legally binding looking document to your grandmother, feeling that you should have not accepted to take in the hybrids for what felt like the ninetieth time in the past thirty minutes.

“For Sylus and Zayne.” she nodded at the two folders on top of the five that you had been given - details about preferences for food, blood works, too much information that you felt was too private for someone who would stay with them for just a month to know. “Zayne is actually very mellow and will give you no issues, but because he’s a Snowy Owl and classified as a bird of prey you do have to sign a waiver.”

You trusted your grandmother’s words, even if she had swindled you into doing this in the first place, she never would give you the wrong information about a hybrid. “Does that mean Sylus is difficult.”

A shake of her head. “Not at all, he mostly keeps to himself. He’s been a… recent addition to the sanctuary, and though there has not been any behavioral issues yet, we have been careful.”

Your heart clenched, not in worry for yourself, but because you knew what it meant for them to be worried about it. “That bad?”

“Just… He came from a police raid to an illegal fighting ring. We are worried he might have not just been used for that.” another painful clenching of your heart, compassion making you ache for the hybrid you had yet to meet. “He’s been here for about three months? He’s distrustful and careful around everyone but not violent. Legally any hybrids of wild animals have to be held under the waiver, it’s a precaution.”

It was obvious it wasn’t one that she agreed with, and neither did you. Just because they had their DNA mixed with dangerous animals didn’t mean that they were dangerous themselves. There was still human DNA in their bodies, wasn’t there? And besides the fact that they could turn into animals ( and in some rare cases half turn ) or had animal characteristics, was there anything that told people they didn’t have rational reasoning? Nothing but their prejudice, that was for sure.

“If it’s needed.” you would prefer not to sign it, but after some hesitation that was there more so you remembered to sign the correct last name, you did put pen to paper.

The rest of the forms were more perfunctory than anything else, there because they needed to give you guardianship of the five hybrids so they wouldn’t think you had taken them in illegally. Your grandmother took the papers as soon as you were done, half because she didn’t want you to back out and half because the quicker they were processed, the quicker they would be able to be sent to your home.

Left alone at the office, you brought your arms above your head to stretch, trying to get your muscles to relax. The game would not allow you to interact positively with the love interests, right? Or even be put on a situation that would give them any sort of positive feelings towards you… At least that was what you were expecting. You didn’t know every detail of the plot, or more than the overarching narrative. Leaning forward, you picked up the folders with their information, opening them and laying them down on the table so you could have a general picture of them.

The folders had recent pictures, the more sensitive information hidden in the middle of the files, leaving just an overall profile on the front page alongside the photos.

They had all been blessed by the genetic gods. That was the first thought that had gone through your mind at the array of photos. You had seen more than a couple of hybrids before, and they had all been attractive, obviously there had been some breeding for the best characteristics, another blatant clue to how humans had thought of them for decades if not centuries. But this? This was like you were staring at people that could have made bank if they had been models or pursued anything related to the performing arts.

Sharp jawlines, aquiline noses, plus lips. There were differences but the symmetry of the features was almost uncanny in its perfection, had they actually been animals, they would have been pedigree pets. Bred for excellency.

A quick perusal of the profiles gave you an idea of their heights and their sizes, would you need to get them new clothes? Some like Zayne had been at the sanctuary for years now, he would certainly already have a wardrobe, right?

Ah, this was giving you more of a headache than you had first thought it would. Giving up on the profiles, you closed the folders, but before you put them on your purse, you remembered to check a detail you had missed - their species.

You already knew that Zayne was a Snowy Owl and that Sylus was some sort of wild animal due to the waivers you had to sign, but you had never gotten the actual species. Plus, you would have to deal with prey and predator instincts if they were mixed species. Which they must be having into account that they weren’t part of packs.

Sylus was a tiger, which made more than enough sense why they would want that waiver to be signed. The Rafayel your grandfather had been mentioning was a betta fish, there had been a note on the corner done in red ink that just said ‘fussy’, the other two were also animals that people would usually keep as pets - a bunny named Xavier and a dog named Caleb. Both of their files also had a penned note, this one in blue ink, almost an afterthought ‘large for their species!’.

Size would not be an issue. Space was something that you weren’t missing, and even if you only had five spare rooms at your home, they were more than big enough to accommodate the hybrids out of their animal forms. And the grounds, though not even comparable in size to the sanctuary, were still large enough for the five of them. It wasn’t the conditions of the home that you were worried about, it was how they would take to sharing such close quarters with one another and with you.

You were strangers, and if moving in with friends or lovers was already awkward and complicated enough, it would be even worse for you. A soft sigh as you kept thinking about all the worries you had, all the anxiety that kept swirling around in your gut. It was bad that you had to keep reminding yourself to be calm, to relax. It didn’t bode well for the next month, but you would do your very best to make sure their time with you was good.

And then you could keep avoiding the main character when she came to volunteer when summer started and her dangerous love interests.

Yes, you decided as you finally put the folders on your purse and left the office to meet with your grandmother to settle the particulars of it all, it was a month and then no more active dealings with the sanctuary.

. ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ .

the lovely people who asked to be tagged - @inkytoru | @april-likes-smut | @harutogfr

[aingeal98]

hi i have a question if you don't mind. i started reading dc comics in the past couple of years and i love talia and i'm going through her backlog. i just finished cass's batgirl run, and i'm super intrigued by her. my question is how do you think their friendship (if they ever even have one) be like? i haven't gotten to any comics where they interact, but i want them to be really good friends because of their story paralleling. (both of them being the favorite child of a batman villain. being raised by a single father. both of them being some of the worst men alive, but absolutely loving their daughters. their daughters being trained in various skills since childhood. using batman as hope to get away from the life they were living, but cass being the only one to actually get away. much to think about (unless i got something wrong then forget this lol))

Really great ask, thank you! Cass and Talia are my two fave Bat related characters, so I have a lot of thoughts as to how they would get on haha.

I think their main point of connection would be Cass's love of projecting on people. Like you said: here is a woman raised by a single father, who's morals do not align with hers but who loves her, who may not love her in the healthiest way but it's all she knows, and here comes Batman who she attaches herself to as a symbol of freedom from the burden she feels her father pushed onto her, and then despite finding freedom through the Bat they eventually have to push beyond him, and then quickly get derailed through being brainwashed into evil. Cass knows exactly what that feels like, only she got to recover from her brainwashing, while Talia got the worst ending possible. On Cass's side now, there would definitely be a desire not only to connect, but to help.

There would however also be hesitation and fear, and I think on both sides it stems from Talia basically being a bad end for Cass, and that's something they can both see. What I mean by "bad end" is the story of Talia and Damian, where Talia had a child, gave up that child so that they could live a normal life, but that child did not end up free and instead got trapped by the very family Talia initially sought to escape. And then ultimately Damian is killed by a brainwashed Talia. One of Cass's biggest fears is that she is forever tainted by David Cain and the bond they share, and looking at how the story of Talia and Damian played out she would find that incredibly disheartening for her own future. Likewise Talia would see and relate to Cass, but would in current canon probably view herself as doomed in a way Cass isn't, and so would be hesitant to reach out in case of potentially dragging Cass down.

Then there is of course the fear of what they've done to each other. Talia isn't her father but she was around when he gave David Cain the resources to make Cass into a weapon, and likewise Cass was brainwashed when she did it, but she WAS the one to kill Talia's sister. But then again Nyssa was also the one who brainwashed Talia so ??? Complexity there on all sides. They'd both have a lot of conflicting feelings about this and be hesitant to share them in case the other feels vastly different about the whole thing, and their guilt gains an additional layer.

If I was to write them bonding, I think Nyssa would actually be the key to this. Cass now knows thanks to Shiva that Nyssa is alive again, and would track Talia down to let her know. Talia might then finally confess what Nyssa has done to her, because if there's one person you can trust to keep that secret it would be Cass. The empathy would be too strong.

And so, while Talia is perfectly content not running the League and letting Nyssa handle that, there's no way she'd feel safe out there with her sister around. Cue a Cass and Talia road trip to track down Nyssa and capture her before she gets the chance to hurt Talia or Damian. Lots of bonding over their fathers and families and their complicated feelings towards Bruce, lots of discussion of their different understandings of the world based on their own trauma, lots of fights and fun times because they deserve it. (Also mild retconning of Nyssa's backstory where she hates Ra's for understandable in character reasons and not because Ra's was working with the fucking Nazis please and thank you.)

In the end they confront Nyssa. And Cass has been seeing Talia struggle with the decision of what actually to DO with Nyssa the entire road trip, and has been sharing her own experiences with a similar scenario but not overstepping and demanding Talia do x or y. So she watches as Talia holds a knife to Nyssa's neck and just... can't go through with it.

Nyssa escapes dramatically, probably with an explosion or assassins or something. Cass and Talia also survive and in the aftermath Talia shares her fears that she wasn't sure if it was remnants of conditioning that stayed her hand or just her own morals. Cass again sympathizes, and promises that from what she's seen it probably wasn't the brainwashing, just Talia being a kind, loving person. She's not doomed to be the image her father and sister shaped her in, she can be her own person. And so they go their separate ways with a promise to be there if the other needs it, and a friendship is born.

(Afterwards Talia gets her own series where she goes back to doing corporate espionage and Cass is her main Bat connection because she needs to be free of both Bruce and Damian for a solid few years.)

Thanks for the ask!

[pressplay-if]

Anon who brought up a possible air of resentment: I get what you're saying and I definitely don't want you to lose your joy in creating. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. And I do recognize that I have no idea what it's like in your inbox and what it might be like to see all of that so relentlessly. It does sound exhausting and I'm sure it's frustrating.

And I don't want to downplay that IF readership can be very parasocial and very demanding, and I want to affirm that that's not right.

I'm still very excited to see how your story develops. It's clear it's very dear to you and it's very dear to many of us as well, even if what makes it dear might not always line up.

If your inbox is weighted toward what exhausts you, what could readers send or say that would be more encouraging for you?

Honestly nonnie thank you so much for this, I needed to hear that my efforts at communication aren't failing entirely right now. I really appreciate you seeing my standpoint.

As for your question, it honestly made me realize that my entire inbox sort of exhausts me lately. Don't get me wrong, I get a ton of asks that are SO awesome, I try to answer as many as I can but despite my efforts, I currently have a queue of 395. I'm sure other authors have a bigger one (insert dick joke here) but it's just a lot. A recent highlight was all of the people who wished me happy birthday, that was so sweet! And then there's the crowd who talks about their experiences with mental health, which I often find to personal to post but really appreciate a LOT because it reminds me how many people share the same difficulties as I did. There are also a lot of very sweet and funny RO-centric asks, but some of those I don't answer just because I can't think of sth witty to say right off the bat.

In short, I like just about every ask I get that isn't super explicit or demanding or strikes me that way. But these boundaries are getting harder and harder to define, and I feel as though it stresses me out a bit, this whole interaction thingy... I don't know.

Your question helped me realize that perhaps I want to shut down anon or my askbox entirely for a little while. I feel as though that might curb my productivity right now, especially since the update is so close and I really don't want to be stressed/insecure around this time! The update is another big step for me, it's so branchy and exhaustive and I'm so proud of it, you know? But my confidence in my writing is a volatile thing.

Maybe I should freeze asks until the update is out, then open up again to receive feedback, bugs, typos and general merriment lol.

[wisgoat]

Listen, while my target audience is older and I generally don't want to interact with anybody under the age of 21, I know I have many people in my audience who are younger than 21, I will not block you unless you're under 18 in which case you really need to find a space for yourself!!! I generally dont want to be getting into any sort of relationship beyond acquaintance/mutual with you (if ur under the age of 21), i think im just much older and we are on such different maturity levels that i think i dont want to be talking with you for any extended period of time.

I would like to talk about abusers and grooming, I've been sexually assaulted at the age of 14, I was groomed into it and it has caused me immeasurable amount of trauma that even 11 years later I'm untangling it.

Grooming is not synonymous with pedophilia, grooming is a process that makes you comfortable and makes you feel safe ignoring the red flags abusers display, it is understandably linked and associated in the popular linguistics because children and teenagers are the groups most affected by manipulation, they are not equipped through years of experience and their brains are still cooking and learning, which is why abusers often like to target young people, double so if they are a victim of previous abuse!!! A lot of the grooming and abuse they experienced is so hard to properly unlearn. The abusive manipulative behaviors can be seen as normal by victims because that's what they grew to learn is love!!!!

So what I want to say, especially to people under 21, if someone tells you how mature for your age you are, if someone constantly guilt trips you and tells you how you are an adult and you should act your age, if someone is extremely jealous about you and demands you to stop talking to peers your age, if someone is constantly dismissing your feelings, dictates when and why and if you're allowed to feel sad or hurt, if your mistakes constantly get brought up to the top and are used every time your partner hurts you and you're angry at them, if someone guilts you into sending them sexually charged pictures, if someone tells you to get off the internet or tries to cut you off any sort of support group, you need to reevaluate your relationship.

Those are all red flags I have lived through and experienced myself, and it is NEVER your fault someone hurts you like this, it is NEVER your fault your partner yelled at you, it is NEVER your fault your partner made you cry and hurt you, never let your partner flip the situation on you or distract you and deflect when you bring up your concerns. Those are all things predators and abusers do to manipulate you into submission, once they convince you that you are a horrible person and how their help is the only way to be redeemed and saved they will be able to solicit anything out of you, and it is not your fault, you're a victim of abuse. You're not responsible for saying yes when you really wished you said no, your abuser wants you to feel like a liar who tricked them into abusing you. The reality is you felt too threatened to say no, and you were manipulated into consent.

Abusers will often ruin your reputation to further isolate you from help, use all your breakdowns and every time you lashed out as justification of what they did to you, demanding proof, demanding for you to apologize. If the things they did to you happened and you know what happened, they happened. People don't just make up or hallucinate the abuse they went through, this is called gaslighting. It is used to deflect the consequences and to punish you for speaking up. Don't let them, always talk with your friends, peers, parents anybody about what's happening to you. The shame of being groomed and abused is going to hurt, we like to believe we are infallible but I promise you, friends are not enemies, the biggest fear a manipulator has is to be seen publicly in front of everyone as exactly what they are and no matter how much they harass you, you need to speak up, you need to tune them out, disregard their crocodile tears and the guilt tripping attempts at pity, all the health scares are meant for you to feel guilty for being mad at someone so hurt by life. But this just doesn't matter. you need to choose your self preserverance no matter what and not stray from that path for even a second. Don't give your abuser any ground, don't respond to their accusations letting them dredge it up forever and ever, you are a victim and you need help, support and care no matter how bad you were to your abuser. Don't let them kill you, please.

[wenellyb]

What are your expectations for Bucktommy? I’m still optimistic and think they are going to get back together but I don’t think it’s going to happen this season. I think it’s going to be something that continues to season 9. I just don’t think there is enough time with only 1 episode remaining

Hi Anoooon!!!!

I think Buck and Tommy are getting back together in the last episode but as you said, I'm wondering how they're going to manage the conflict resolution and reunion with only 1 episode left.

They still have so much to discuss:

- Tommy saying Eddie was competition. Especially now that Eddie might be coming back.

- Buck saying he doesn't need to have feelings

-and of course, Buck is going through a lot right now.

I'm still convinced they'll get back together in the finale, because otherwise why set up small hints at a reconciliation: Buck telling Maddie he should call Tommy, Tommy telling Buck he did him for him, that shot of Tommy looking at Buck crying and including Tommy in the Bobby flashback.

If they're getting back together in season 9, then they should have waited for the beginning of season 9 to introduce those scenes...

What I was expecting before was Buck and Tommy moving in together, but I'm not sure it would be wise to get back together without having solved all of their issues.

What I'm expecting now, is a reunion after a dramatic rescue, Buck and Tommy talking things out, Tommy admitting he was being an idiot, apologies from both and then a love confession.

Between you and me, if they don't get back together by the season finale, I'll lose interest in the ship.

Not because I don't like it or whatever but because I hate slow burns. I don't mind angst and breaks up and getting back together but something has to happen.

See what happened in episode 11 with Buck and Tommy getting back together and then fighting: amazing storytelling.

Tommy trying and failing to be passive agressive with Buck in episode 15: spectacular!

But several episodes of nothing happening... No thank you. I'm expecting at least some kind of interaction. I know not everybody would agree but it's a personal preference.

I don't have to force myself to follow a storyline that is taking too long to fold out.

This is an ensemble cast so I don't expect them to mention Tommy every other episode, but I feel like the uncertainty has lasted long enough.

I could handle it for season 8, but I don't want them to bring the same energy into season 9.

TL:DR: I really think Buck and Tommy are getting back together in the next episode. I can only handle when a slow burn or will they/won't they storyline lasts one season. If it's longer than that, I get annoyed.

What about you Anon? Would you rather have them get back together in the next episode or in season 9 or are you fine with both options?