#but the idea that if someone has everything to lose and nowhere to run they will fight harder and fiercer stuck with me

[loregoddess]

So, I started thinking a bit too hard about this post here, wrote something up, let it sit in the drafts for a day bc I wrote most of it half-awake before work early in the morning while suffering IBS pain, and wanted to check it later, and decided I did in fact need to get this out of my system bc I've spent an unfathomable amount of time thinking about 3H and enjoy writing in-depth analyses for fun, and then I wrote the rest of it half-asleep late at night, still suffering from IBS pain, rip. (I did at least take time to edit at a later time though).

Anyhow the initial post that got me writing was talking about how insane the eastern/northern houses in the AM route were, since Houses Fraldarius and Gautier (and a few other minor houses of the eastern/northern Faerghus territories) were able to stave off the Empire's attempts to conquer them for a whole 5+ years resulting in a deadlock. Like, with all the resources Edelgard has at her disposal (both from the Empire, and from the Agarthans), she cannot squash the last resistance in Faerghus. And then I was like, "I get the joke here, but actually this reminds me of something from The Art of War, and might actually be good writing."

(full analysis continued below bc it's basically a short essay)

I actually think the writing for this specific part of the story is kind of ingenious since it takes historic military strategy into consideration for how the last of the Faerghus lords should have acted to best optimize their chances of survival. Sun Tzu explains how soldiers tend to act in dire situations in The Art of War, Chapter XI:

23. Throw your soldiers into positions whence there is no escape, and they will prefer death to flight. If they will face death, there is nothing they may not achieve. Officers and men alike will put forth their uttermost strength. 24. Soldiers when in desperate straits lose the sense of fear. If there is no place of refuge, they will stand firm. If they are in hostile country, they will show a stubborn front. If there is no help for it, they will fight hard. [...] 58. Place your army in deadly peril, and it will survive; plunge it into desperate straits, and it will come off in safety. 59. For it is precisely when a force has fallen into harm's way that is capable of striking a blow for victory.

(quotes cited from here)

By this logic, we can assume it is because the last of the Faergus lords have everything to lose if they're defeated (their lands, their lives, their peoples' safety, their way of life and culture) and everything to gain if they manage to win, that they fight as if they're already dead, because in a sense they are.

Sylvain actually displays a different, but similar mindset in his monastery dialogue during Chapter 22 of Verdant Wind:

[image transcript: "Sylvain: I mean, I'll still fight like I want to die because that's worked so far, and why change at this late date, right?"]

(for context this is said in reaction to the prospect of fighting against the risen Nemesis's army, you can read the full conversation here)

So we know that the idea of the "my choices are to fight like hell or die, so I might as well fight" mindset is present at least in the Gautier house, and considering the military history of Faerghus it would make sense that all the major houses teach and utilize military strategies. The Art of War also has an entire chapter dedicated to the importance of spies, and it's implied or outright stated several times in both Houses and Hopes that House Gautier has one of the most expansive information networks in all of Fodlan, on par with House Vestra's, Judith's, and Yuri's spy networks.

Therefore it makes a lot of sense actually that even if it's just Houses Fraldarius and Gautier, and a few other minor lords, that they'd be able to hold out, since they were the military powerhouses in Faerghus and also the "best" equipped (decent home resources as compared to Galatea's territory, best spy network of Faerghus, long military history, more military experience, a strong reason to fight to the death, etc.) of the remaining Faerghus noble houses to put up a last-ditch resistance and actually manage to hold out.

Actually I want to expand on my "more military experience" note there. Insofar as I can tell, the Empire actually has the least amount of recent military experience, while Faerghus probably has the most. I say this because it's made very clear that Faerghus, specifically House Gautier, has been fighting off invasions from Sreng for decades, if not several generations of Gautiers (according to the account of Laetitia Gautier fighting off the first invasion from Sreng, from Hopes). Furthermore, the attacks from Sreng are frequent and recurring, enough so that Lambert led a campaign against Sreng. So all the eastern/northern houses of Faerghus have had constant military praxis for decades.

The only other major family to have similar and recent military experiences would be House Goneril, which often repels attacks from Almyra. It was an invasion from Almyra which prompted the formation of the Officers Academy, and yet no such response was ever made to Sreng. In fact, Sreng and Faerghus's struggles with them seem to be entirely unknown to the rest of Fodlan, or at least ignored. Which means that while Holst Goneril gains fame for his might on the battlefield, no one in Fodlan really knows about the strength of the eastern/northern houses of Faerghus.

The only major military conflict the Empire had to deal with in recent events leading up to the start of the game's story was the Dagda and Brigid war, which was resolved within a year's time and resulted in the complete destruction of House Nuvelle, which is far from a clean victory. The only notable person associated with that war is Count Bergliez, making him the foremost expert on military strategy in Edelgard's army. Edelgard herself started a multi-front war in her late teens with literally no actual military experience. (Not to say the training at the Officers Academy was useless, but military education and a handful of field battles are not the same as prolonged warfare).

Sure, Edelgard has the Agarthans, but even if we assume that the same major Agarthans have been cybernetically transferring their souls from one host body into new host bodies when needed, they don't technically have "war" experience since their MO is to act in the shadows, sowing chaos and discord. They don't know how to manage an army (and even if some of the Agarthans, like Thalas, had survived from the initial war with Sothis, and would technically have knowledge of warfare, that war ended with the near-annihilation of the world, so it seems foolish to assume they have any practical knowledge of military strategy).

So, Edelgard starts this multi-front war, and has to divide her resources between the Faerghus front and the Leicester front, and since everyone in Fodlan knows of Holst's battlefield prowess, she decides to have Count Bergliez hold down the Leicester front, leaving Faerghus to be dealt with by the Agarthans through Cornelia. And sure, Cornelia succeeds in winning the western lords to her side and toppling the capital, executing Rufus and attempting to kill Dimitri, but neither she nor the western houses have the same sort of experience with war the way the eastern/northern houses do because of Sreng. And everyone consistently underestimates the strength of the eastern/northern houses, possibly especially Cornelia bc she's an Agarthan and thinks herself above humans to begin with.

So between the fact that Cornelia (and technically Edelgard) didn't start off by taking the eastern/northern houses seriously, and the fact that Houses Fraldarius and Gautier and the surrounding territories were backed into a corner with everything to lose and everything to fight to the death for, it really does make sense that a deadlock would result on that specific battlefront, and not just solely because of the military culture of Faerghus.

(To be entirely fair, Edelgard is more or less doomed to lose the war she started in every timeline except CF, where the key variables are significantly different, because of her lack of military experience, mismanagement of resources and assets, and a general lack of understanding and knowledge of the rest of Fodlan, paired with the fact that her and the Agarthans are at odds from the start, so there's a ton of internal rifts and clashing objectives within her forces. Like, she really wasn't going to win from a strategic perspective. Why the Agarthans never use their orbital missiles to deal with Fraldarius and Gautier is beyond me, and why Edelgard didn't sieze Garreg Mach and use it as a strategic stronghold is also beyond me--on a Watsonian level at least. The writing for the Agarthans is consistently lackluster, so with the writing for eastern/northern Faerghus's military might being logically solid, I'll take my wins where I can).

[cinnamoodles]

what are ur favorite anthony bridgerton five

hi! i'm assuming this says fics, and i am SO HONOURED that you trust me to recommend my favourite fics to you!

first up… the amazing and fantastic @fayes-fics, one of THE MOST skilled writers alive. she never misses!

some of my personal favs from her are:

➥ a beneficial arrangement [ ⭐️ ]

a marriage pact with a viscount. what could possibly go wrong?

➥ rescue and ruin

anthony rescues something for you… and it will likely lead to your ruin.

➥ the friends+ series

modern AU. series of fics that feature anthony & journalist!reader’s burgeoning relationship.

those are just a few of my favorites, but READ HER ENTIRE MASTERLIST! you will not regret it, promise.

secondly, a series of fics by the wonderfully talented @rubysunnday, and once again, be sure to read all of her masterlist!

➥ take my hand

as much as y/n appreciates anthony’s matchmaking efforts, it’s hard to accept them when he’s the only man she wants. luckily for her, a fall in the lake allows her to voice her feelings in more ways than one

➥ a long, long time

y/n has waited a long, long time for anthony bridgerton to finally decide to get married. but by the time he finally decides to find a wife, y/n has run out of time and anthony is suddenly faced with losing her to someone else.

➥ it’s a bad idea, me and you [ ⭐️ ]

y/n was ready to give her entire heart to anthony bridgerton. only for him to shove her aside in favour for sienna rosso. but, now, sienna is gone and despite what y/n keeps telling herself - anthony truly does own her heart.

now, for the queen of the modern!anthony au, @eleanor-bradstreet! some of my favorites from her are…

➥ gala

you attend a charity gala with your boss who really is too much trouble in a tux.

➥ locked out

when you find yourselves locked out of your house in the middle of the night, anthony has some ideas for how you can kill time.

➥ take me instead [ ⭐️ ]

you and anthony find yourselves in the middle of a bank robbery on an ill-fated day.

next we have @colettebronte, BRIDGERTON SMUT AUNTIE HERSELF WOOO!

(warning, these fics are VERY mature, and include BDSM and other possibly triggering material).

➥ rise and breathe

newly arrived back in london after a long journey across the mediterranean sea, you encounter a pathetically drunk viscount bridgerton the night he is rejected by sienna rosso. after a sobering morning on all counts, you sense that he is indeed lost and in need of a new purpose and direction. through submission and service, he may just find it.

➥ what (who) are you doing on new year’s eve?

a mysterious benefactor invites you to ring in the New Year with them.

➥ kinktober day ten: blindfolded

your tenth evening with your client. day ten for kinktober. I’m going with two prompts tonight, blindfolded and massage.

finally, we have some individual fics that stole my heart.

➥ diamonds and pearls by @multiharlot

diamonds and pearls do not make up for the lack of love in your marriage.

➥ enamoured by @dreamwritesimagines

everything you heard about matters of heart and desire told you the same thing; love could lead to heartbreak at best and disastrous results at worst. yet, you were convinced that everyone was wrong. they had to be, because love was supposed to make everyone happier, no confusion or pain in sight. regardless of how naive it sounded, you were sure that you were ready to fall in love and lose yourself in the infamous bliss. that assumption right there was a terrible mistake, though. you were nowhere near ready.

➥ right person, all the wrong times by @wwinterwitch

you and anthony have been in love with one another from the moment you met, but it seems as though nothing will ever happen between you. after you catch the attention of another gentleman, he realizes perhaps it's time to finally do something about his feelings.

➥ right in front of me by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

the only way he could rationally find a suitable wife was by removing love from the equation all together. courtship was game of jumping through hoops he really did not want to play, and he was a viscount. surely there would be a father with a more than suitable daughter he could simply ask for your hand and get it. or the one where your arranged marriage with anthony bridgerton isn’t a loving marriage… until it is.

➥ melt away by @healmydesires

the night you give your love and body to your husband.

➥ sham, pride, and illicit affairs by @peeterparkr

or, the story of how you rejected his proposal because you once loved him.

➥ enchanted by @imthebadguyyy

you and anthony don’t need words to converse.

➥ better man by @midnightfictionlibrary

anthony must rectify his rakish ways and wed, but he has a lot to think over if he doesn’t want to lose his dearest friend forever. 

➥ no longer in denial by @iwritefandomimagines

anthony has made no secret of not wanting to marry, despite it being more than clear that he is head over heels in love with you, his “best friend”. benedict decides he is fed up of anthony’s denial, and takes matters into his own hands — by inciting jealousy from his older brother.

➥ the language of flowers by @cinnamoodles (shameless self plug)

you and anthony have been friends for as long as you can remember, but what happens when his world turns upside down? will he open his heart and let the woman silently pining for him in?

AHH ok that was it, and these are the bridgerton fics i love with all of my soul. thank you so much for your ask, it was so nice to see all these wonderful fics again.

xo, lottie !

[drvscarlett]

About You Pt 14

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

A/N: we do not condone cheating in this household, that is all. enjoy!

About You Series

2013, Yas Marina Circuit

Jenson values his rest which is why lights were off as soon as it hits 8pm. Everyone knows that this was his schedule during the race weekend so why the hell is someone knocking at his door at 10:40 in the evening. He was about to shout and give this person a screaming but all the irritation disappeared when he saw Y/N at the door.

She was disheveled, an uncommon sight to him. As far as Jenson remembered, Y/N always try to make an effort to look as if she is well-composed even when the whole Multi 21 incident was happening last year. Jenson swears he remembered how she looked happy and excited when they parted ways earlier. What the fuck happened in a matter of hours?

“Jesus Christ, Y/N what is going on” Jenson was immediately awake.

He checked her for bruises fearing that someone laid a hand on her. To his relief there weren’t any. The puffy red eyes were a point of concern because there were only so little things that could make her cry like that.

“Can I stay here? I don’t know where else to go”she finally spoke.

“Of course, get in”

Jenson shuffled to make way for her inside. He was careless to let her stand in the hallway for so long but he didn't miss the implication of her sentence. Why would she say that she has nowhere to go if Sebastian is always there for her? Jenson has witnessed it several times how the Red Bull driver would drop anything to take care of her.

A thought crossed Jenson's mind but that would be impossible. He knew Sebastian would never break up with Y/N, the man would rather get run over by a car than lose her.

“I can prepare you a cup of tea. You should change to some clothes, I have some of our team kit in my closet that may fit you”Jenson suggested.

Y/N sits on the floor of the hotel blankly with tears streaming down her face. It was a scene that tugged the heart of Jenson deeply. If he could do anything to take that pain away then he would.

“C'mon Y/N, lets get you out of this clothes. You take a quick shower then lets talk” Jenson encourages.

The girl was running on autopilot and Jenson was scared. This was the first time that he encountered Y/N to be in this type of state. He has the idea to message if which one of the idiots in Red Bull fought again but he thought it would be best to hear it out from Y/N herself.

When Y/N stepped out of the shower with dry clothes, Jenson was already done with the tea. He led Y/N to sit on one of the couches and Jenson took a sit next to her. It was a few minutes of silence as they sip their tea until Jenson finally caved in.

“Talk to me, whats happening”Jenson begged.

Y/N's deadpanned expression turned to face Jenson. She seems to struggle which one she would tell first or how will she narrate the story. Jenson holds her hand as a form of comfort.

“I went to dinner with Hanna”Y/N found her voice

Jenson tried to recall any Hanna that he knew about. His face scrunched up in his heavy thinking and Y/N noticed that.

“Its Sebastian’s childhood friend”Y/N added.

“Oh its that blonde one right?”Jenson remembered “She used to be here for a few races“

There was silence again from the female Webber. It was frustrating Jenson and he wished he could just mindread the thoughts going on in her head.

“Turns out she is pregnant”she sighs.

Jenson's face contorted to one with confusion. Why would it matter if Sebastian's childhood friend is pregnant? What does it have to do with anything that's happening? Unless...

“No shit, are you fucking serious?" Jenson puts one and one together

It felt like he was being pranked right now and any second the camera crews will get out of their hiding. He wanted everything to be a one big joke but the room remained silent and tears continue to stream down her face.

Jenson wanted to get up and give that Vettel a piece of his mind but he stopped as he looked at Y/N. Leaving her on her own is not the best decision so he just enveloped her in a hug.

“I don’t know Jenson, its so fucked up” Y/N’s voice was faltering as she tries to stop her tears “Was everything just a lie? All those times he was wooing me and now I found out he has a fucking kid with somebody?”

Y/N wiped her tears and she let out a fake laughter. All the emotions are going haywire now.

“Hanna is 6 months along… It ties up around the time of the Spain GP, just before my fucking birthday”Y/N explained.

The scenes were starting to connect with each other. He remembered the earlier conversation with Sebastian about the big mistake he did. He should have seen this coming and punched Sebastian.

“That fucking twat”he mutters.

“I don’t know what to fucking do Jenson, I don’t know what to think anymore”

“Just talk to me, I’m listening”

But frankly, Jenson’s thoughts were filled with regrets. It shatters Jenson because this was the only thing he begged Sebastian, he begged him to take care of Y/N and Sebastian cannot even follow simple directions. If he knew that this is how things would have ended up between the two of them then he should have just tried his best to woo Y/N.

He felt so useless with everything, and he could just only be a comforting shoulder for Y/N.

“She begged me Jenson. She asked if I could talk to Sebastian because the kid needs a father” Y/N narrated “How can I live with that memory in my head that if I allowed myself to be happy then I’m depriving a kid of their father. And Jenson, I love Sebastian. I really love him”

Jenson could feel his heart silently shatter by that confirmation. With everything said and done, Y/N loves Sebastian. It was the reason why she felt so hurt by the whole thing because she loved him. He wanted to ask which God decided to play a cruel joke on him. Having to see the girl he loves the most crying over a man who didn't deserve her when he was there all along and could treat her better.

2013, Circuit of The Americas

Sebastian arrived at the circuit earlier than usual. He has been feeling a bit tense the past few days. Ever since Abu Dhabi, Y/N seems to be avoiding him. She didn't reply to her text messages, she flied out early, and she seems to not be present in the garage during the races. Some may say that it was just all a coincidence and that maybe Y/N was just busy but something was bugging Sebastian about the situation.

So he was hellbent to find some answers today. He headed out to the McLaren garage to talk to Jenson or even try to talk to Y/N.

Some McLaren staffs were preparing the car and they pointed at hush whispers to see the Red Bull driver in their garage.

"Hi goodmorning. Can anyone point me to where Y/N or Jenson is, I just have to speak to any of them and its really important" Sebastian greeted.

The staffs look at each other seemingly wary about his request. Little did Sebastian know but Jenson had a lengthy message before their arrival at COTA that Sebastian Vettel should not be allowed to speak with anyone in McLaren especially to Y/N.

"Did anyone not hear me? I'm asking where is Y/N or Jen-"

"What do you need me for?"Jenson appeared as if on cue.

Sebastian let out a sigh of relief upon seeing his friend. He was about to give him a hug but then Jenson's face seems to be filled with irritation.

"Are you okay? You look mad?" Sebastian pointed out.

"Mad? I'm mad?"Jenson fakes a laughter "Oh I am extremely happy Sebastian. I am fucking ecstatic"

"Seriously what's going on, why are you acting weird?"

Something about what Sebastian said pushed Jenson to the edge. The next thing he knows, Jenson was tackling him and they were engaged in a physical altercation. The McLaren employees were quick on their feet to seperate the two of them but Jenson was still lunging to get a punch towards Sebastian.

It was a good thing that there was no media around at this time or else this would have been a huge scandal. Only the employees of the team are present in the garages so this could be contained.

"What the fuck is your problem?"Sebastian roared.

"You're the fucking problem"Jenson shouts back "You are a fucking piece of shit"

The McLaren staffs tried to subdue Jenson but he seems to be adamant to get out of their hold. Sebastian could see in his peripheral view that some of the Red Bull staffs are running to get their driver out.

"We fucking know Sebastian, we know what you did"

And the color suddenly leaves Sebastian's body. His mind running a million thoughts, how the fuck did Jenson know? He stood there frozen unable to defend himself because he knows it was just right for Jenson to punch him. Hell, he deserves worse.

"What did you do Sebastian?"Britta wondered "Are you hurt Seb? Do you want to file a complaint?"

Sebastian shakes his head "Let's just go and leave".

"Yeah and stay the fuck away"Jenson warns.

Some McLaren employees were begging Jenson to stop and think of his rash actions' consequences. They may have physically restrained Jenson but his eyes followed Sebastian as if it was shooting daggers. Sebastian cannot shake the feeling of it even in the comforts of the Red Bull motorhome.

There were lots of things that Sebastian wanted to say. He wanted to tell Jenson that it was an accident and he had too much to drink which is why it happened. He wanted to ask how did he find out and who is the we that he is talking about.

His heart drops upon realizing the weird behavior of Y/N the past few days. Oh fucking shit, she knows.

2013, Autódromo José Carlos Pace

It was the morning before the free practice. The sun was still rising but Y/N managed to find herself early in the garage. Everything was still a bit empty, a big contrast to how the place would be packed in a few hours. With plenty of time to kill, she decided to take a walk around the track.

There was an empty feeling that there was no one by her side. She was so used over the years that there was always a driver by her side. It may be Mark discussing about the family and some kids he is mentoring. It can be Jenson who is busy winking and waving at the fans. And of course, Sebastian, the one who talks her ear off about the winners and the iconic scenes around the track.It feels a bit lonely to walk the tracks by herself.

In light of the recent events, she has been a bit lonely. Sebastian was someone she was ignoring for the obvious reasons. Jenson is someone she talks to for work duties but other than that he is on timeout after his outrage in COTA. Mark is also off the table because she might end up crying and Mark ends up doing something stupid such as crashing Sebastian on purpose.

Seb <3: Please let me talk to you. Seb<3: It’s the end of the season and I don’t want us to go to our winter break with this heaviness on our shoulder. Seb <3: Just please let me explain. Let’s talk about this

The same kind of messages have been circulating ever since the COTA incident. There was not a day that goes by that Sebastian is messaging her asking if they could talk about things. She has to hand it to him that he doesn't give up even if she was radio silent.

What's bugging her is how everyday she is itching to go talk to him. A side of her knows that whatever he has to tell her will never justify the whole thing. Sebastian still hid the truth about sleeping with someone and he betrayed the trust they shared. However, there was a part screaming inside of her to hear him out. It was honestly frustrating to end up in this position that it got her falling apart.

Funny how the mere thought of him causes tears to fall from her eyes and still she wanted to see him. Its so fucking stupid.

She hurriedly tried to find a towel or handkerchief because when she cries it was far from pretty sight with the tears and the snot. There were people coming around the track so it would be pretty bad if anyone sees her. God, she would hate herself to be pictured by the media and have to explain why she is crying to Mark.

"Here, you need this" A hand suddenly extended to her offering a handkerchief.

The first that she did was wipe her eyes to clear her vision and then blow her nose to help her breathe again. Y/N looked up and she was surprised to see a familiar face.

"Jules, oh my god this is quite embarrassing. I'm sorry you have to see me like this"Y/N fuzzes “I am seriously not like this always”

The last time that she met Jules by her own was in Monaco. She remembered how she was also upset and confused during that time. It seems like its becoming a habit that Jules sees her when she is feeling down.

"Oh no, nothing to be sorry about"Jules assured

“You always carry a handkerchief or do you have a dora backpack that carries everything you need?”Y/N tried to joke around.

Jules let out a soft chuckle clearly understanding the reference.

“Would have loved that Dora bag but”Jules shared“its actually my old man told me that I should always carry one so that I can lend it to someone crying or needing to use it to blow their nose”

“That’s very specific and I feel targeted by those statements”

He just held up his hand high in surrender with a smile. It was a joy to have Jules presence because it lifted her spirits even for a moment.

“Wanna walk with me?”Y/N wondered.

“Sure”

Small conversation were shared between the two of them as they walk. Jules gave an update about Charles, who Y/N notes to be ranking up in his career. The conversation was a distraction for Y/N but Jules can't help but notice the disposition of the girl a while ago.

"I don't mean to pry but you seem to have a lot going on in your mind"Jules pointed out "Maybe you could talk to me about it"

Y/N musters a small smile "That bad huh?"

"We can sit down at the side of the track if you like so you can tell me what's going on"Jules offered.

"There's nothing going on"

But she knows her voice is weak and it betrays her. Even, she was unconvinced by the sentence she just uttered. There was clearly a lot going on.

Skepticism was apparent in Jules' face however he nods his head in understanding. He knows that if Y/N doesn't want to talk about it then he won't force her to talk about it. He continues walking with her and Y/N appreciates that.

"But can I ask you a hypothetical question?" Y/N quizzed.

"Go on"

There were a lot of tell-tale signs that Y/N was nervous with the way she was fiddling with her necklace and how she avoids eye contact. Jules turned to her and stopped. He put his hands on Y/N's shoulders to keep her from shaking.

"Hey, you don't have to say anything if you aren't ready to talk about it"Jules assured "Don't stress on it"

"But I need help" there was the cry of distress.

"Okay then lay out the hypothetical situation"Jules encouraged.

"Okay hypothetically speaking, what does it mean if you got a girl pregnant and that girl is not your girlfriend. And still you want to talk and explain to your girlfriend. Do you still love your girlfriend? Why do you want to talk to your girlfriend?"

Jules seems bewildered by the whole story as he seems to curse in french under his breath. He just couldn't fathom how Y/N has been placed in such a deep shit situation.

"Please tell me you are not pregnant" Jules begged.

"I AM NOT!"

"You're not cheating?"

"For the record, this is a hypothetical situation"Y/N reminded "But to answer your question, im not cheating"

A sigh of relief escaped Jules as one of his hands massaged the temple on his head to relieve the incoming headache. He didn't want to ask anything anymore and he will just treat it as air quotes hypothetical.

"First of all, hypothetical or not, it is wrong to cheat on your partner. It should have never happened in the first place if a person truly loves their partner"Jules cleared.

An immediate frown graced Y/N's face as it confirms her earlier thoughts.

"However, there may be a reason as to why it happened. I have heard how some people had done it because they were drunk and did not know what they were doing. Others are actual serial cheaters who has done this several times. There are certain degrees of the crime and I think the next course of action should take it into account"Jules reasoned out.

Y/N remembered how Hanna mentioned that this just happened one time. It was just an extremely unfortunate situation that Sebastian knocked her up that one time they slept together. Jules explanation made valid points.

"If its one time?"

"Why not go talk about it and maybe they could work on it"Jules replied.

It was quite funny to even hear that suggestion. She never could have seen herself getting over the cheating incident so how could they work on it?

"Will things ever work with something as big as cheating?"Y/N questioned.

The driver just nods, "Yeah when you love someone. You can look past their biggest mistakes and flaws because you love them. Its why people tell us love makes us stupid at some point"

Love truly makes us stupid, a fitting sentence to embody Y/N right now.

"I think the best course of action is to hear what he has to say. If this is a one time thing then maybe you can forgive him and then you two can work this out. Or maybe you can take your time and not forgive him. Whatever works for you"Jules added.

"This is all a hypothetical situation remember"Y/N reminded.

A laughter comes out of Jules and he nods his head in agreement.

"Of course Y/N, everything is all hypothetical"

The two continued with their walk without a hitch. People are starting to enter and they made a good decision to head back to their respective garages.

"And this is my stop, thanks for a wonderful morning Jules"Y/N hugged Jules in front of the McLaren garage.

"Not a problem, you were a joy to walk with"

"Really even with the crying and all my hypothetical questions?"Y/N joked

"Yeah even then"Jules agreed " and I hope you aren't too troubled anymore next time we meet"

"I'll return your handkerchief then maybe you're the one needing it next time around"

The two waved goodbye to each other. Y/N reached out for her phone and she started to type. Her head was a bit clear now and maybe the talk with Jules gave her a bit of braveness to do this.

Y/N: Okay. I'll hear you out one time. Meet me after the race. You set the place.

[the-sinister-story-teller]

this is long, sorry. okay, so it would be angsty with a happy ending (maybe with some smut at the end) where reader is tall and looks like a total dom, but is actually a bottom who is head over heels for angel, and tries to show it but angel doesn’t believe him/thinks he’s trying to use him and pushes the reader away,, though angel has also caught feelings. eventually angel overhears reader telling someone (charlie, husk, idc) how in love he is with angel and how angel hates him and angel confronts him. crying and confessions happen and maybe some smut where angel tops reader.

thanks, i love your writing!!!

A/n: Of course! I love this idea! I hope you enjoy it! ^^

Angel Dust x M!Reader ~ Looks May Be Deceiving

Mentions: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Male Reader, MxM intimacy, Soft Dom!Angel.

Topic: Request above ^^^^

"Hey Angel have you seen my phone?" You called out to your friend, Angel Dust, who hummed in minor confusion.

"Uhhhh...No!" He called back, as you gasped in joy.

"I got it! Thanks Angie!" You hummed, before leaving to go run some errands. To be frank, you didn't lose your phone. You had it the entire time, you just needed a reason to try and confess to Angel, but you chickened out. You had arrived a while back, and grown moderately close to Angel. When you began to try and hit on him he...declined. A lot. At some point, you tried to ask him out to which he sweetly but bluntly said a flat 'no' to. You wouldn't lose hope though. Not that easily, especially with how smitten you were for him. You didn't know it, but he was in love too, but he didn't want to be used by someone again. So, he sheltered himself from it.

Later enough, you came back with groceries that Charlie had needed, your hands full.

"Princess! I need a lil' bit of help here!!" You shouted as Charlie rushed to help you, setting the bags down. You sighed at the relief of nothing heavy weighing down your arms now, before you plopped back into a chair in the lobby. It was then you saw Angel come down, making you sigh softly. You sat up, going to help him carry something. "Here, lemme get that for ya!"

"Oh uh...Thanks Y/n." He spoke sheepishly, as you chuckled nervously again.

"Say uhm...Are you free tonight?" You asked, raising a brow as Angel narrowed his eyes.

"No. I'm really, really, busy tonight.." Angel lied, leaving the room quickly with his things. You sighed, hopeless as you sat at the bar, catching husk's attention.

"Th' hells got you so gloom?" Husk asked, pouring a glass of booze for you, as you took the cup.

"Thanks...and it's nothing just...In a predicament."

"Of what sorts?" Husk asked, raising a brow as he drank a bottle of cheap booze.

"Just..Angel. He acts like he hates my guts but I..."

"You love 'im, don't cha?" Husk sighed as you nodded, taking a swig from the glass, groaning quietly in frustration. Before Angel could fully leave, he was still within ear shot, hearing your confession.

"Yeah..I am. I can't help it!! Have you fuckin' seen him!? He's gorgeous, funny, and just...everything I'll ever need.." You muttered, sighing softly. "I just don't have a chance with him...He hates my damn guts for christs sake!" You exclaimed as Husk huffed.

"They always act like that, to cover up their true feelin's. Only thing is, Angel's probably like that 'cuz of the shit he went through." Husk explained, as you nodded.

"Yeah...You have a point.."

"So, take it easy. He's probably in love with ya' too, he just isn't ready for it yet. Keep shootin' your shot kid." Husk said with a very light smile. You returned to expression, finishing your drink, and standing up.

"Thanks Husk. It...Really means a lot to me." You thanked and he nodded, waving his hand to shoo you off. You sighed, making your way to your room, before hearing a voice.

"Hey Y/n?" Angel spoke softly, spooking you as he came out of nowhere from behind.

"Oh, Angel. It's you. What's up?" You asked as Angel opened his mouth to speak, before sighing, holding his arms softly.

"Listen I...I don't hate you..You're just so nice and I didn't know if you were genuine or just wanted to use me for sex.." He spoke, his voice shaking a bit from the tears. He didn't want you to think he hated you, he didn't want you to lose interest because of it either.

"Where did all this come from Angie?.." You murmured, scared he might've heard your conversation with Husk.

"Damnit I-...fuck...I heard what you said and...and I'm sorry for bein' a complete asshole. I didn't want to get close to you and end up goin' through heartbreak 'cuz you got tired of usin' me." He explained and you swallowed thickly.

"Angel...I'd never fucking use you...Ever..I'm lovesick for you and I'd die a second time to make sure you're happy and safe." You said, a bit of confidence peaking in your voice.

"So you're not..Upset?"

"Fuck no!! If I'm upset at anything, I'm upset you didn't tell me sooner!" You joked, hugging Angel softly as he sighed with relief, quietly and softly crying from joy.

"I love you Angel.."

"I...I love you too Y/n.." Angel muttered. From then on, the two of you began dating, and to say the least, it was fun. Constant pranks and affection. You two were in Angel's room, cuddling as you watched some novela.

"...I'm fuckin' tellin' ya Y/n! She's just gonna dump him!" Angel exclaimed as you scoffed.

"As if! Maria loves Gabe!! I doubt she'd ditch him." You huffed as the two of you went silent, before breaking out into laughter...It died down, as it was just a silent cuddle now. A question lingered in Angel's mind for a bit since you two began dating, and he felt this was the right time to ask. Given he was a bit horny that day, from seeing you to heavy work in a tank top.

"Hey Y/n, can I ask ya somethin'?"

"Uh yeah! Shoot me with it hon-" You laughed, leaning your cheek on the palm of your hand, as your elbow propped you up on the bed.

"Are you...Ready for sex? If not that's completely--" Angel quickly sat up to dismiss it all before you cut him off.

"Yes." You bluntly spoke as Angel stammered before snickering.

"Didn't think you'd reply so fast damn." He laughed as you chuckled, your cheeks growing hot.

"But uh...One thing I'd like to mention...I'm not one to top." You sheepishly chuckled as Angel hummed.

"I get it...Got any big kinks you want me to know tootz?" Angel cooed as he laid you down onto the bed, climbing on top. You practically melted into his touch, bright red from all this.

"Nope...I'm followin' you Angie, you can take the pace however you want.." You muttered sweetly as Angel nodded, cupping your cheek with one hand, kissing you softly as he used the other hands to undress the two of you. He straddled your waist, running his hands over your now bare body as he pulled away from the kiss.

"Not gonna lie tootz, I was expectin' ya to be a top~" He giggled as you bashfully looked away. Angel simply cooed from this, turning your head to face him. "Awh~ don't get shy on me now babe~" He teased as you let out a shaky sigh, before jolting a bit with a soft moan, feeling Angel's hand wrap around your shaft.

"A-Angel please be-"

"I know, I know babe, I'll be gentle...Just wasn't expecting you to be so big~" He sweetly said, leaning down and kissing your cheek. You began to whimper a bit, feeling Angel slowly drag his hand from the base to the tip, rubbing it gently to spread the pre-cum.

"Holy f-fuck angel that- mhh~ -feels a-amazing- ah..~" You moaned out, shuddering from the feeling of Angel peppering your neck in sweet kisses.

"I'm glad babe, s'all i want you to feel..pleasure all the way..~" Angel cooed, holding you closely to him. While one hand pumped your length, the other began rubbing your entrance softly, before pushing its way in, earning a whimper of minor pain from you. Angel gasped, sitting up with worry. "You ok babycakes?"

"Y-Yeah I'm fine Angie..hnn..You can keep going..~" You muttered, as Angel nodded with a sweet look, hugging you close with his two free arms, while two fingers fucked your hole, and the other stroked you. You let out a soft whimper, beginning to pant.

"Are you close babe?~" Angel asked, keeping you close to him while you reached your high. You let out yet another whimper, this time more desperate and needy. "C'mon sweet thing, let loose, ok~?" Angel cooed as you covered your mouth, doing just that. Once you finished, you let your arms fall to your side, as Angel laid on top, playing with your hair. "Happy?"

"So fucking happy babe." You chuckled breathlessly, as you two shared a quick kiss, before Angel sighed.

"Love you Y/n."

"Love you too Angie."

[mllemaenad]

Listening to Wyll's backstory in context of all the details we're acquiring on devil's contracts and soul selling is fascinating.

See - I listened to Lann Tarv's three tales to get my soul coins. I felt bad for making Karlach listen to that, obviously, but to be honest I didn't even want the coins that much. I actually wanted the stories. I wanted a better understanding of how this works.

And what I'm learning is - for the gods (and godlike beings) of this world, cruelty seems to be the point. I mean - it's possible there's a god in this world I wouldn't want to stab to death with a rusty fork, but if so I have not met them yet.

These beings have the power to save people and places, to change lives, to do anything. And when someone asks them to - they demand a terrible price. But they don't just demand a price. They subvert the original request in such a way that they utterly fail to deliver on the original promise.

An abused woman wishes to be loved - and her true love appears, but dies instantly. A man wishes to save his children from starvation, and ends up personally growing masses of meat on his own body - not only painful for him, but forcing his children into survival cannibalism, which they were trying to avoid.

Auntie Ethel works the same way. Every one of her customers is left in a tortured state, while Ethel still takes her payment.

The idea is that the person must come to regret their wish long before the payment comes due. Every cry for help must be met with a boot to the face. Or else the mortals will get uppity? Or something.

What is interesting is how consciously Wyll defies that. And how much Mizora is dancing around, trying to force him into that state of miserable regret.

Wyll was manipulated into selling his soul. He was a kid, and he was summoned into a terrible situation - and in that moment, he could see no other way to save the city. Mizora did need to save Baldur's Gate to serve her boss's purposes, so she couldn't take that victory from him - but she did everything she could to take the joy of it.

He didn't get respect, or admiration, or his father's pride for saving the city. He lost his home and his family. He was assumed to have done something monstrous because he was denied an opportunity to defend himself.

That was supposed to fill him with bitterness and regret - but he got to work building his own life instead. By the time you run into him, the Blade of Frontiers is a hero of some renown. He's remade himself, and found a way to enjoy what his powers can do, however he came by them.

So that didn't work.

Then Mizora sent him after Karlach, and that was a mission tailored to break him. Karlach is kind and heroic herself, and that the start she has been sold into slavery, mutilated and forced to fight in a war against her will. If Wyll killed her, and then found out who she really was, then he betrayed everything the Blade of Frontiers is supposed to stand for - and he would lose the life he made for himself.

But he didn't, and that didn't work either. He's got a friend, now, who at least knows part of what he's dealing with.

So Mizora gave him demonic features. That would destroy the life he's made for himself, because no one would trust him to help them.

Except now Wyll basically goes nowhere on his own, and a small army of people can attest that he got those horns and eyes as punishment for being a good man. Mizora might be able to shut his mouth, but she can't silence his friends - and the group absolutely have shouting sessions about everything. Wyll's horns become a battle scar, like his missing eye, and nothing more.

And beyond that, if you are playing as a heroic character, a significant throughline in the game's story is the journey of the tiefling refugees. The story makes it clear that these people experience a constant barrage of racism, due to their appearance and "demonic" heritage. It also makes it abundantly clear that this prejudice is entirely undeserved - they're just people, with virtues and flaws like everyone else, and what is happening to them is terrible. So Wyll turns up to assist a bunch of people whom he now at least somewhat resembles - and with Karlach along, you have two people in the group who technically count as "infernal", but haven't got an evil bone in either of their bodies.

Mizora created solidarity. Oops.

Wyll is deeply suspicious of gods and higher powers. He doesn't want to make more deals with devils. When Elminster arrives to tell Gale what Mystra demands of him, he explicitly says he does not do religion. When you get Mizora to agree to let his contract expire in six months, he starts by casually invoking the gods - but switches to thanking the player character instead, because he knows who helped, and who did not.

But he utterly refuses to regret the pact he made. That can be a struggle. He clearly misses his dad, and would like that relationship repaired. The fact that he was transformed very much against his will is clearly a source of distress from him.

But if he regrets, then Mizora wins. That's it. Game over. She gets what she wanted all along. So he doesn't.

The main companion characters all have this kind of problem, and naturally have different ways of dealing with it. You have characters like Shadowheart and Lae'zel, who were indoctrinated as children, or Gale, who was literally seduced by one of these nightmare deities - and with them you have to start out by convincing them they they were the wronged party in the first place.

But Wyll knows exactly what game he's playing, and he's been screaming defiance the whole time. It's just that, in his case, the "defiance" is grinning and carrying on every time Mizora inflicts some more bullshit on him.

[thecousinsdangereux]

i just recently discovered your soulmate au and i loves it so much. so incredibly intriguing and well written and damn is it hot 🔥 thanks so much for sharing with us. in your mind, does it have a happy ending for them?

also wanted to ask if you'll be checking in to see the big warrior nun announcement coming tomorrow?

Ahhhh thank you! This ask is kind of tragic now given how everything with Warrior Nun ended up going, but I thought I'd use it as a way to share my ideas for the rest of a beggar in the morning, if anyone is interested in learning how it was going to go. Long story short, it was going to have a happy ending. :)

Here's a full outline for what I had in mind for the second half of the fic. Under the cut because it's very detailed in the parts that I'd started writing. Also in case anyone cares about spoilers? At the moment, I don't plan on finishing this fic, but I do plan on returning to writing in general, so guess there's a non-zero chance that I could come back to it. Stranger things have happened.

Beatrice keeps looking for the recipient of the Letter she's been trying to deliver and starts taking trips out into the countryside. She takes Ava's advice and takes to enjoying the journey - stopping into small cafes for lunch rather than eating in the car, taking the long way when it means she can enjoy a new view, etc.

During one of these side quests, she's told about a man who lives way off in the middle of nowhere who has the last name of Reis (the last name of the Letter recipient: Lara Reis), and she tracks him down. He had a sister who had a child with someone who was not her Match. I wanted to go more into what this looks like (and how the church is still anti-abortion in this world, because they think this could potentially ruin a future match, cue eye-roll) but in this case, the woman was basically run out of town. The man directs Beatrice to an orphanage where the child was raised.

This trail eventually goes cold because the orphanage has no records of the girl. They only know she left when she became of age.

The end of chapter six is basically Beatrice being frustrated and taking some 'advice' from Lilith to find someone to fuck hfkjshlk so she goes to the bar and ohhh nooo Ava is working that night, filling in for someone. Ava gets jealous, Bea does some shots, and it's basically a rehash of the lemon drop scene from the show, but hornier. Eventually, they make out, and decide to be friends with benefits.

Chapter 7 was honestly just going to be porn. lol. It's actually some of the first stuff I wrote for this fic - just a page of porn. Beggar came out of a Secret Santa fic exchange, and my friend Alex asked for lots of sex and a soulmate au. So... Chapter 7 was the payoff (part 2). Here's a few disjointed scenes, in case anyone is interested in reading some unedited very E-rated stuff.

A few months go by and all the nuns visit Beatrice for her bday and they're like huh so what's going on here and Beatrice has to pretend that it's not that serious with Ava (lol). I also wanted to do a conversation between Shannon and Beatrice where Shannon talks about the whole Mary thing and loving someone against the will of god (or at the very least, in the very gray areas).

The end of chapter seven is Ava finally talking about her past, which is that Ava doesn't remember hers. She woke up in a hospital without her memories and then spent the next decade traveling around trying to find something that felt like home.

In chapter 8, a lot of time passes, and the fucking continues. Beatrice is kind of losing it, poor girl.

I hadn't exactly decided what was going to happen next, but Ava was going to overstep in some way (or in some perceived way) and Beatrice was going to panic. Either Beatrice was going to have a brief thought about being in love, they were going to have reallyyyy soft sex, or something like that, but either way, Beatrice was going to have to admit she has deeper feelings for Ava than what's allowed allowed, so she goes back to Spain and ignores Ava's texts/calls/etc.

Eventually she realizes she owes Ava closure. She comes back and kind of explains why she's reacted the way she has. She gets more into why she joined the church and it's not for God or the Church itself, but because she does genuinely believe that love itself is holy. She admits she's falling in love with Ava, but she can't break her vows. She believes giving into her feelings would be putting herself above the whole history of love... the sanctity of the entire universe... and to be that selfish would be monstrous.

There's a callback to their early game of three questions, and how Ava still owes Beatrice one answer. Beatrice nearly asks if Ava loves her, but pulls back because she's scared of the answer. They basically break up, but Ava tells Bea to let her know when she's ready to ask her last question.

Beatrice takes it HARD. She buries herself in her work and starts visiting hospitals in various towns. She finds a Spanish doctor and he recognizes the number (or rather, the system behind the number) that is on Letter Beatrice is still trying to deliver. He tells Beatrice she's not looking for a hospital in Portugal, but rather in Spain - one in a small town in Andalusia. He mentions a patient who was in a coma, who woke up without her memories.

At this point, Beatrice obviously knows and she flies to Spain in daze. She visits the hospital, gives them the number, and asks for the name of the patient. When they'd brought the girl in, no one knew where she came from, she didn't have an ID, memories, etc. Nothing except for an old receipt from a restaurant in Portugal. ("Beatrice braces herself for what she already knows, but doesn't want to face.") The nurse at the hospital tells her they used a generic Portuguese name for the girl and it stuck: Ava Silva.

Beatrice visits Cat's Cradle because what else is she supposed to do? How is she supposed to deliver this Letter to Ava, who she's obviously in love with. She talks with Mary and we get the other side of the whole Mary/Shannon thing, and Mary is kind of like, okay, the Letters matter but they don't Matter. Beatrice asks Mary what she would do if she got a Letter (since Mary isn't a nun and could get one, but Shannon never could) and Mary basically says she would throw it away without opening it because she wouldn't want to give Shannon a reason to go self-sacrificial.

Of course, Beatrice doesn't really think this is her call to make. She's going to deliver Ava's Letter. There's this whole scene of her very dramatically and angstily getting ready for the delivery in the Official White Habit, then walking through the town she's come to associate so completely with Ava. And chapter 9 ends.

When Beatrice walks through the doors of the bar, Ava looks up, but doesn't seem surprised, even says 'oh, finally', which is pretty much the last thing that Beatrice expected, but then again, maybe it should have been the first, because Ava is always surprising her, and shouldn't she expect it by now? She asks Ava if she'd known that she was the person Beatrice had been trying to deliver to all along and Ava looks confused at this, like she hadn't considered that at all. "It's not that. I just knew my Letter would be coming because I'd already met you."

Beatrice is like, no no no. That's not how this works. It can't be me. I've been carrying this Letter with me this whole time - before I met you - and the Letters are only sent to a person when they've met their soulmate. And obviously, Beatrice is a nun and can't have a soulmate, etc. etc.

And then Ava says something like this: “Maybe every once in a while, God -- or the universe or whatever it is -- knows that it’ll be really hard to make two people meet organically, so it fudges the rules a little bit. Makes one girl a nun, makes another one hard to find, and sets up the dominos really early on."

And when Beatrice says she's being ridiculous/it's impossible, she says, "I know what’s in that letter. It’s you. I don’t need to open it to know it's you." and "Maybe it’s like some people say and god arranged it all. Fine. Then god chose me for you. Simple. He made me in this exact way, down to my hands and toes and whatever, so that I was perfect for his favorite creation in all of the universe. Because that has to be you."

And: "Or maybe it’s like what those other people say. You know - the past lives reincarnation stuff. Fine, then in our first lives we fell in love and then I found you in the second and third and the five hundredth. I found you and I picked you and I wanted you every time. Or okay, fine, maybe it’s what the the pseudo science people say. Even if those guys are right, I still know. It’s you because at the very start of the universe - at the very beginning of everything - we were the first two bits of something. The first two tiny little sparks. One of those was you and one of them was me. And even when we split off into a million trillion billion infinite pieces, the core of one was you. And the other one was me."

And: "In every religion or in any theory, the world exists so that I can find you again, and the world will do whatever it takes - bend the rules in whatever way - to make sure that at the exact right time, we would meet. And maybe it wasn’t perfect - maybe it was stupid hard for us to get to this point - maybe there was an easier way to make it happen - but I don’t care. Because it worked and I found you and I fell in love with you and I would do anything for that. So yeah. This Letter is telling me that I’m for you. That’s easy. It’s not faith. It’s just a fact.

And: "Besides, whatever’s on that paper? It’s going to be you. If it’s a picture of a butterfly, then it’s going to be you because of that time we went to the dam and one landed on your hand and you said “isn’t the world beautiful?” and that’s when I knew I loved you for the very first time. If it’s the notes to the first bar in At Last, then it’s you, because we used to play it all the time in the bar and I always thought it was fucking stupid to think you'd know like that right away, before everything, but it was the song that played in my head anyways when you walked in the bar that first night. There she is, I sort of thought, a dream that I can speak to."

"It could be any single word or phrase or letter and it would be you, because I love you and I love you so much I see you in every part of this entire world. I love you and I want to keep you with me always, and so you’re always there in my thoughts, slipping over and into everything else and I love it. It makes me love everything I see a little bit more, because it reminds me of you. It makes the world more beautiful."

"So, no offense, but I don't really give a fuck about the Letter. I already know it's going to be you. But I think you need to see it. So you know you’re not as selfish as you think you are."

And Beatrice admits that she wants to be with Ava anyways. Even if it makes her selfish. (Even if it makes her heretical.) Love is holy and what she feels for Ava is holy too, even if it's a sort of holy no one else will ever understand.

I went back and forth about whether they actually SHOULD open the Letter. lol. But I think I eventually settled on that they should, and that when Ava does open it, it's a blank page with like, 7 little dots and Beatrice is like??????????????? But Ava recognizes it instantly and it's the freckles on Beatrice's cheeks, the ones she's always tracing, and she does that again, following the ink on the paper.

Beatrice had been ready to give up her religion for Ava, so getting to keep it, maybe, suddenly is a LOT. She can't quite believe something divine would do something like this for her. But maybe she can believe that something divine would do something like this for Ava.

Later, I wanted Beatrice to have a conversation with Mother Superion. I thought it would be interesting to get into the philosophical bits of it. To debate if Ava could actually be right in her ideas about how this could be, and still fit into what they know about god/Letters/religion. I liked the idea of the conversation ending with neither of them really knowing, and Mother S being like, look girl, you'll never know for sure, but that sounds like faith to me. And Beatrice says no, no this is different, capital F Faith is for the divine. This is just trusting that Ava isn't lying about the freckles thing, or won't get tired of me, or won't find someone else. Etc etc etc. because it's panicking time for Beatrice, suddenly. And Mother Superion just raps her knuckles sort of in the most gentle way she can manage and says "That's love, Beatrice." in the way way someone might say "That's pussy, babe."

Beatrice does leave the church (though she eventually goes back to 'consulting' kind of like Mary). And when she does actually physically leave as well, Ava is waiting outside on a bench. Beatrice asks why she didn't just come inside, and she says something about being a little afraid of churches these days. She did steal god's favorite, after all.

And then they walk off into the sunset, with Beatrice being like wait a second, I thought you said this was all God's plan. And Ava shrugs and says that she would never willingly give Beatrice up, so god might come to her senses and change her mind.

I was going to end it there, but I did consider doing an epilogue as well. Early on in planning I had this idea where, years later, all the nuns regularly come over to the Silvas (because Ava does keep her 'second' name, though she does start to learn more about the Reis family, and meets her Uncle - the dude Beatrice learned about the orphanage from). And on one of these occasions, the nuns are all in white, and they're delivering Beatrice's Letter, which is addressed to Beatrice Silva. In the end, I decided against this, because I liked leaving it more open-ended, but nothing had been set in stone at this point, of course.

So yeah, that was going to be a beggar in the morning. lol. I plotted most of it out before I even started writing, because it wasn't the sort of story you could make up as you went and still tell it well. And I did want to tell the story well! There's a part of me that's sad that I wasn't able to, but I do think it was worth writing what I did. I really loved seeing people realize that Lara was Ava, even as early as chapter 5! And I also loved people coming up with theories about how Avatrice would be endgame. Some of them were honestly really good and maybe better than mine fhdskjhfd I had one person be like PLEASE let Ava's Letter be for someone else so they can metaphorically spit in god's face and honestly that was valid.

I don't know if anyone is going to bother to read this very, very long reply to an ask that doesn't actually ask for any of this, but it honestly just feels nice to put all these ideas together and 'complete' the story. Even if I've done it in the most half-assed way possible I am so sorry fhadskjlfhldsj

[tyudearyous]

dilly dally - c.s

pairing : choi san x reader

genre : fluff, angst

wc : 880

author's note : was in the mood of writing and had this idea for quite some time now so why not? LESGOOO. also, everything here is fiction and isn't accurate to the person! differentiate reality and fiction okay!!

🎵 for lovers who hesitate - jannabi

masterlist

...

"choi san. how much are you going to drink?"

your nagging rings on san's head continuously while he takes sips after sips of the alcohol in front of him. it was a random saturday when he had the sudden urge to drink and lose it all. well, it was a coping mechanism perhaps? it was his favorite way of coping with all the feelings he's experiencing.

he loved your company and he wished he could have it all the time. however, you were just friends. nothing more, nothing less.

"do you remember when we first met?"

a sudden urge to reminisce came over to san. he was pretty much wasted at this point. he was smiling at you, as you tried to remember the events of the past.

"it has been ten years so you probably don't"

he laughed slightly while sulking. he doesn't understand it. why does his heart hurt when you don't remember the events of the past? why is he this bothered? and oh. i'm crying, he thought.

"wait, why are you crying? wait wait i'm sorry, i only remember a bit that's why i was hesitating, oh come on sannie let's not cry okay?"

you comforted him in panic. he was a big emotional dude but even so, you just didn't expect he'd shed tears out of nowhere. you went over the table to sit next to him and wipe off the tears that were running down his cheeks. he then nuzzled into your shoulders and continued sobbing for some time. you let him be, because that's what friends do. right?

"i wish you loved me like i do"

his confession made you froze on the spot. he likes you? your best friend of almost a decade, had feelings for you?

"it's okay, i don't expect anything hic but can you pat me right now? i'm not asking for too much right?"

san looked up to your frozen expression. he knew he was fighting a losing battle. he knew it all too well but he'd do anything even for a moment. he'd do everything.

"i made you uncomfortable right"

he chuckled before moving away from you and continued finishing the bottle of alcohol he drank from previously. his cheeks are flushed and tears kept streaming down his face.

"san, i-"

"it's okay. i'd rather you not say anything more. i know it's just me hic, so let's just be friends hic. nothing more nothing less."

you couldn't answer him any further. it was the truth, it was just him, you never really saw him in that light. except for that time when you did but you never had the guts to do anything. he was supposed to be out of your league. it was supposed to be that way.

the situation was uncomfortable for the both of you. you decided to just leave his apartment to not make the situation worsen.

"stop drinking, i'll take my leave and don't cry too much. you'll puff up"

and with that you took your leave. leaving san in his room, alone with his feelings and emotions all over the place. normally you'd stay but you couldn't that day. it was supposed to be this way, right?

the walk home was difficult. you had to take in the fact that your best friend had feelings for you but you never noticed it and heck, you even buried your own feelings just because you were convinced he was not someone attainable to you. but with the new revelation, everything felt like it became a mess.

...

"did you fight with san?"

it feels like you've heard that question hundreds if not thousands of time this past few weeks. after the whole confession, you couldn't approach san that easily anymore. he needed space and you too. you haven't talked to each other for weeks now and it was weird at first but it was for the better.

"no, why?"

you always acted nonchalant, without fail anytime asked you about san. however, this act of yours is far too noticeable in the end. how could you leave someone who has always been there for you so easily? how can you act alright if deep down, you're just a mess?

that's exactly how you end up finding yourself hovering over your phone, deciding to send san a text explaining everything. it was selfish but losing him was hard for you and you couldn't handle it. thus, you sent him the text, hoping he'd reply.

hours passed, days passed, weeks passed, still no response. it was clear enough for you. he didn't want to do anything with you anymore. it's not his fault, it was never his fault. it was never your fault either. it was simply how things should unfold. it's fine. it's better this way. it was genuinely better this way.

or was it? or was it just you trying to convince yourself? whatever it is, that was how you lost both your best friend and your first love.

the end. or is it the end?

[leggerefiore]

We’ve seen how Pokémon characters react to being sick but how would Maxie + various other Pokémon characters of ur choosing react to you being sick?

cw: reader sick with a cold

characters: Maxie, Archie, Lysandre, N, Guzma

☀️Maxie🌋

🪨 The minute you begin to show signs of being ill, Maxie is banishing you to bed. Unlike with himself, he does not want to risk your pathogen spreading throughout his team and worries about your health. Unfortunately, he becomes a bit nervous to be around you due to a small bit of germaphobia. The redhead does get over it when you keep asking for him, however. This leads to him quarantining himself away with you to prevent further spreading it around. He also finds himself fretting over it being something worse than it actually is.

🪨 He sends out grunts to buy whatever you may possibly need to get over your bout of illness. Medicines, tissues, a humidifier, a dehumidifier, a heating pad – anything. Maxie is certain to make sure you have everything that could possibly aid you in getting over your sickness. He will help away any sweat from fevers and make sure that everything is clean around you both, too. Disinfectant is used gratuitously. Of course, excluding excessive physical contact. He loves you, yes, but he does not feel like joining you in bed-rest.

🪨 You watch him scramble out of your shared quarters at some lucid point of going in and out of consciousness and wonder what he is doing before passing back out. Yet, the slumber is short as the smell of something hot singes your nose. Maxie has returned with a soup, made by him. He may not be the best cook, but he carefully made a favourite quick meal of it to help boost you up. Its spice is nothing to scoff at, and somehow clears your sinuses from its sheer heat. You can only stare at him in wonder while downing water. Maxie seems very smug about this all.

🪨 Once again, cuddling is not happening. He cannot stand the idea of getting sick and being unable to focus on his work. Not to mention how certain he felt that Courtney sneaked into his quarters the last time he was sick and snapped a picture of him. Though, towards the end of the illness when he knows it's nowhere near as contagious as it was during the earlier stages, he may give in. He crawls under the covers at your side and wraps an arm around your shoulders. Your head ends up pressed to his chest as he tries to figure out how much longer you should be like this. At some point, you fall asleep, and he does not have the heart to push you away in the end.

🌧Archie🌊

💧 He honestly probably doesn't catch the earliest signs that you are getting sick. Archie just does not get sick often enough to understand what is happening. Though, after it becomes complete apparent you are ill, he makes sure you can be comfortable in bed. It most likely was something going around in Lilycove that his grunts accidentally brought in with him. The Aqua Leader ends up stuck at your bedside, too. Poor guy cannot handle his Luvdisc being in such a situation. (Shelly sprays him down with disinfectant when he leaves his quarters, knowing full well be didn't clean himself nor use any germ killer. She alone prevents the spread of the illness.)

💧 If you just vaguely mention wanting something while sick, he rushes out himself to get it. Local pirate man spied at a pharmacy buying up an inordinate amount of cold medicine. Probably got questioned by someone, but somehow got off. He also grabs whatever else you may have requested. Endless tissues, air humidifier (though it is probably unneeded in the seaside cave you live in), snacks, gifts – He runs into the Lilycove Department Store and nearly loses his mind. Archie just wants to help you get better as soon as possible.

💧 Somewhere in the madness of it all, grunts spy him in the hideout's kitchen. They can only wonder what he is making, but the smell of seafood clearly wafts through the air. You get pulled from a light slumber to a bowl of some kind of fish stew. Archie holds it out with big eyes. Needless to say, it was eaten by you. Even if Archie had to spoon it to you in a few moments of weakness. Truthfully, his cooking was not that bad. Just a tad heavy to consume while sick. You did somehow feel better after eating it, too.

💧 Honestly, when it comes to affection, he is all over his partner no matter what. Even if you are sick, he wants to be stuck to your side. You do not even have to ask for him to cuddle because his arms already tight around you and have you pulled into his chest. Your comfort is more than met. Archie even barely goes for kisses, despite the obvious risks. Your emotional needs are just as met as your physical needs. It made you wonder if that was why you became better so quickly. And, somehow, Archie managed not to get sick, either. His immune system appears to be something to be feared.

🔥Lysandre🍷

☕️ The tall man feels stricken when you begin to develop the tell-tale signs of a cold. Especially as you try to continue going throughout life as you usually do. Lysandre quickly works to change that. Right before your cold gets worse, you find yourself forced into bed by your very distressed boyfriend. He scolds you for neglecting your own health. His heart aches at the thought of you suffering for no reason. Needless to say, when a near seven-foot man tells you to rest, you probably end up resting. Your shared home is kept clean by his efforts and that of a housekeeper, thankfully.

☕️ He already buys you everything you could possibly want, adoring to shower his darling in gifts. But, now, he is doing it in a frenzy. Special orders for medicines he believes will truly aid in shortening your illness and help alleviate your more painful symptoms. Tissues are always in supply near you and anything from a humidifier to some weird home remedy he does not quite understand but nonetheless gets for you. He only wishes to bring you comfort and happiness in your unfortunate state.

☕️ It comes as no surprise that he makes sure all the food you eat (in general) is extremely healthy and filling. He only has the best made for you by a restaurant he finds to by one of the best in Kalos. Of course, there is a time you find yourself eating an unfamiliar soup after waking up quite late from a near all-day slumber. Its flavour is pleasant and there is clearly a lot of skill put into making the dish, but it was obviously not made by the usual person who apparently had been making your food. You only learn it was a personal recipe that Lysandre had made after getting over your sickness. Supposedly, it was something that Sycamore had made for him at some point during their long friendship.

☕️ Lysandre is a rare hesitant about affection while you are ill. The last thing he needs in his busy schedule is to be forced to rest. Team Flare would almost certainly fall about without his leadership, and his duties as the president of his labs would stack up to a distracting degree. Yet, still, when you look at him with pleading eyes in such a condition, he feels weak to his own love for you. He gives in, allows you cling to him. Perhaps a bit of physical comfort would give your immune system the boost it needed to get through all this. You both end up drowsing off, cuddled up together.

🌿N👑

🟢 He is not sure how to react when your cold becomes too obvious to ignore. Panic consumes as he thinks about statistics of deaths related to illness, before he recalls what his sisters used to do for him when he was younger. Suddenly, your green boyfriend is dragging you back to bed and demanding you rest. N is so very worried. He has never had to handle another person being sick, so having his lover be the first one is making him fret too much. Hilda finds herself in a hard place when N calls to ask what to do and has to give him a run-down. He was a very quick learner, thankfully.

🟢 He finds himself unsure what to get for your symptoms, so he probably nearly grabs one of everything for cold medicine in the hopes it makes you get better fast. This, too, means he ends up buying some strange homeopathic things, but honestly, it is the thought that counts. And, he did actually manage to grab a few helpful things in his whirlwind shopping trip. N was also careful to stock up on tissues and the like. He just wants to help you get better so desperately and seems to be trying literally everything to help you.

🟢 This includes cooking. While he is not too familiar with the skill, he quickly finds aid in both his pokemon and human friends. Hilda makes sure he follows the recipe as best as he can, while the pokemon bring him the best ingredients out from the wild (besides what he had to buy). The dish is carefully made before being brought to you as you wake up from an extended nap. The soul is very herbal and probably skews a bit too bitter, but the love N put into making it is obvious. (You did feel strangely more energetic after finishing it, too.) He is happy that you enjoyed his desperate attempt to cook for you.

🟢 Poor green boy is stuck to you like glue while you are in such a state. The fear of getting sick does not even occur to him, all he simply wants to do is make you feel better. His affection is always so gently and warm with a hint of desperation. You probably feel completely at ease with the near always present touch of your adoring boyfriend. Thankfully, his immune system is hardened from his youth spent partially in the forest, so he does not get sick too easily. Though, he trusts if he falls ill that you would care for him all the same as, he did for you.

💀Guzma🕶

□ The minute you begin to show signs of sickness, Guzma honestly begins to worry. He does not express it aloud, of course. His reputation must be upheld, but you do notice him pushing you to rest. Whenever he gets up, he is extra careful to keep quiet and scolds any grunts making noise outside his room. Big bad Guzma just wants his partner to rest and get over whatever was coming over them quickly. Eventually, though, he does actually demand you rest. Your steps were a bit too wobbly for him to want you wandering around in the endless rain of the dilapidated Po town.

□ Poor guy rushes into a pharmacy in a near frenzy trying to find things he swore worked the last time he came down with something. The clerk can only watch this delinquent scrutinises an antihistamine like he actually understood how the active ingredients worked. Eventually, he settles on two he trusts before buying them, heading back to you. He also grabbed a few boxes of tissues, but they go so fast he finds himself out buying more a day later. Guzma also grabs anything else he thinks might help. Like tea. His mom always told him to drink tea when he was sick, so it has to work. (He has no idea what he is doing, but he is trying his best.)

□ At some point, he realises there is no food in Po town that is good for someone who is sick, so he has to grab ingredients while he is out buying more tissues. It feels like a never-ending cycle of madness. Then, when it came down to actual cooking, he tried his best to make something edible. That failed, however, and he instead returned to the tried and true canned soup. Hopefully, chicken noodles would cure your ailments. You happily eat the soup, and thank him for going out of his way for you. He can only give a laugh.

□ He does hesitate a bit when you first get sick with affection. Guzma actually despises feeling ill due to the weakness associated with it. But, when you tug on his jacket when he is about to leave, he finds himself relenting a bit. Fine, yeah, he will cuddle his sick partner. If he gets sick, then thankfully he already has medicine to take and a stash of canned soup. It also feels nice to comfort you as you nuzzle into his chest. You probably hate being in your condition in a place like this. He just combs his fingers through your hair and gives you a light scalp massage. At some point, you both fall asleep.

[fatefulfaerie]

Tears

“Link!” Penn exclaimed, wings outstretched in excitement. “What a great sense for news you have! Here I am chasing a new lead on the Princess and my partner appears before my eyes!”

Link hadn’t seen Penn since they finished chasing all the leads they had on the Princess’ whereabouts. It was at least a month since they went from stable to stable, Link almost believing the Yiga’s tricks and getting barely a wink of sleep until all twelve were dead ends. He was left just as lost as when he started until he found Impa and sunk himself into the mysterious geoglyphs that dotted the land. Link hadn’t yet found the courage to admit to anyone the truth about Zelda, so he pretended the best he could to be the eager, young reporter Penn knew him as.

“I’ve heard that Zelda has a homestead here in Hateno,” he continued. “Villagers tell me it’s across this bridge, but I’m afraid I’m at a standstill. You see, investigating her home for clues seems to go against my morals as a journalist. This may have to be a story we leave be.”

It was public knowledge that Princess Zelda lived in Hateno. That was no news story.

“What’s the lead?” Link asked. “Was she seen here recently? S-since her disappearance I mean.”

“It may be hearsay but rumors have been circulating that the Princess is married,” Penn said. “The villagers here have no idea what I’m talking about, so I’m thinking it’s no more than gossip. Traysi wanted me to check it out nonetheless. I’m thinking we at least find the may–”

Link averted his tear-filled gaze.

“Link, are you all right?”

“I…I’m fine,” he stammered. “Just…allergies.”

“Where,” he began weakly, but forced his voice to be stronger. “Where does the lead come from?”

“An old Zora at the Domain,” Penn answered. “He’s losing his memory but tends to spout some random things about his long life in an effort to keep a grasp on it. His niece heard him talking about marrying the Princess to someone, but he didn’t specify who. She was so excited about the prospect that she sent word to Traysi.”

Link looked notably nervous as he hugged his arms close.

“Don’t…don’t run the story,” he said in a hushed voice, no longer meeting Penn’s gaze at all. 

Penn looked confused.

“Link…what do you mean? Do you know something?”

“It just…it paints her in a bad light.”

“Link, I know you care about the princess’ public reputation. Your work at the paper honors that gleamingly. Your search for the absolute truth is inspiring to the whole team. You service our kingdom and our princess well.”

Link steadied his nerves with a deep breath and a slow blink of his eyes.

“It was me,” he admitted, quietly at first.

Penn blinked, shocked. He assumed he heard wrong.

“What?”

“It was me!” Link finally burst out pointing at himself. “All of it, everything. The mysterious hero who came out of nowhere and saved Hyrule from the calamity, me. I brought Zelda here and we built a life, and it was a good life. I married her because I loved her. We didn’t tell anyone because goddesses the Yiga were trailing her everywhere and everyone was looking at her to rebuild but I guess it doesn’t matter anymore because she’s gone, okay? She’s gone! That’s it, that’s your story. She’s a magic, floating dragon in the skies because I failed her again. She sacrificed herself for this kingdom and no one will ever know because there’s no proof! Nothing! No one else sees the dragons but me, so that’s what I have for you, absolutely nothing! I have nothing!”

Link panted and Penn stared. He blinked his eyes once, twice. Link expected him to call him crazy. Instead, he pointed his white-feathered wing at the house across the bridge.

“That’s your house?”

Link’s disbelief was shown in his face.

“Yes.”

Penn looked at the house for a moment, letting the breeze sift through his feathers.

“Link I think in a time like this Hyrule would quite like to hear a story like this about their Princess,” Penn said. “I don’t think your story paints her in a bad light in the slightest. In fact, it may be the heartwarming tale people need right now.”

Link’s gaze angled down and pondered the suggestion.

“And no, they won’t believe that she’s turned into a dragon,” Penn continued. “But they will believe as I do how much you loved her, and how she must have loved you.”

Link nodded.

“If you don’t mind I’d like to interview you,” Penn admitted. “In the house you built together. You’ll get final approval of the story I send to Traysi.”

Link looked up and over at the house. It felt like he hadn't been there in ages, like it was a lifetime ago that he went in scouring for clues, hoping she'd just be around the next corner. Waiting for her was like waiting for a sunrise that would never come.

“No, I don’t mind.”

[saintrvckwell]

There'll be no rest for the wicked (au)

joel miller x platonic!teen!reader AU

summary: more than enough of your mother's vices waltzed into your life unannounced, leaving without a trace. but then, then there was joel.

warnings: heavily implied father-daughter dynamic, joel grows protective for the reader, father-daughter bond, platonic stuff and thangs, angst as well (what else i would write, lol), but man the fluff, joel works as a cop (lol howdy), trigger warning mentioned into story (there is a warning before the scene! -- nothing happens, but the nature of it implies the boy's intentions, so i rather chose to give a warning)

wordcount: 4.6k

a/n: hi! lately i found myself enjoying the joel x platonic reader stories again and figured, i could contribute myself, again. treat the daddy issues strugglers like me, ha. enjoy!

splitting this into more parts, please, be patient with me.

Your mother was never the nurturing type. For her, this word did not exist in her vocabulary. She loved you, you supposed, because there was never a clear sign. You were left to wonder. Whether she really cared and if so, where was she?

Throughout your childhood, your mother seemed like a visitor. Someone who, once in a while, passes through. There was never a holiday, spontaneous trip or even a lunch. She had lunch, just not with you. Her friends, her social life -- it was everything for her.

And it seemed, as though, you were not part of that list.

From time to time, as you were growing up, the idea of your father popped in your mind couple of times. Your mother never told you his name, went as far as to not include him in your birth certificate. There was no clue. So, for a child, who's yearning for a presence of loving parent, your imagination stepped in.

Whenever your mom would be on a business trip or simply out with your friends, you would sit on the windowsill, counting the threes below your apartment window. Until you fell asleep. Until the dreams, the wishful thinking, the cycling imagination, gave you what you had been looking for.

A father.

It was natural, you thought. You wished to be saved from your mother's claws. Unmaternal claws that suffocated you. The desire in your eyes, she saw it. But never bothered to do something about it. Your mother never cared, she never listened. She never came to your recitals, school races or when you gave a valedictorian speech.

You put your sweat and tears into it -- trying to figure out that your message will be received. It was a significant moment in your life, or so the teachers kept saying. The praises were coming from every direction, except for the one you wished for the most.

This was the moment you were hoping for -- that she would finally acknowledge your achievements and efforts. And she would come, sit in the first row and cheer you on.

But the reserved seat stayed empty.

And you found yourself standing in the middle of the parking lot, diploma in your hands; your mother nowhere to be found. You waited, for almost an hour, before pulling out the keys from your backpack and setting off, walking the streets in your graduation robe, wiping away the tears you promised yourself not to waste.

Not on her.

When instead of trying, she stayed at home.

With a man.

The anger was running through your veins and the patience was standing on the edge of a cliff.

You could go ballistic.

Who would have blamed you anyways. Your mother's attitude gave you enough reasons to scream it out of your lungs and lose control. But, perhaps, the anger was the one, standing on the top.

The bittersweet taste of disappointment, there it was again.

"Hey, how was school today?" she asked, casually, as though it was an ordinary day -- to be frank, she probably had forgotten about your ceremony anyways.

The man, standing by the kitchen island, with a glass of brandy in his hand, turned around.

Compared to what had travelled through your apartments over the years, he looked decent. Well-dressed, without an awful cologne and more importantly -- without a fake smile. Most of your mother's short-term partners would always pretend wanting to find out more about you.

When they only wanted to find out what was under your mother's clothes.

Still, it would not last forever, you thought.

"Good," you mumbled, putting the cap back on your head. "Same stuff as usual."

There was an urge to leave this uncomfortable setting but before you made a move, the strange man had noticed the clothes you had been wearing and smiled, again. As if though it was contagious.

"Congratulations," he spoke.

Your mother looked up, eyeing your appearance.

"Oh, you had the thing today, right?" she mumbled, grabbing her glass of vine.

You couldn't help but chuckle. Somehow, the bizarre kept getting worse.

"Yeah, the Valedictorian thing, if that's what you mean," you mumbled, holding onto the red case of your diploma.

"Cool," she nodded, "Hey, how about you go pick us up some celebratory dinner? Noodles down the street?"

The anger crawled back into your mind.

"It's raining outside," you shook your head.

"Ever heard of umbrella?"

You never attempted to lash out at her -- solely because of knowing the fact that she would not care. But now, when she stood next to her latest boyfriend, vine in her hand and disinterest in her eyes, you just wanted to scream.

Every symptom of emerging emotional breakdown was on its way, and you knew, you had to get out of there. Not another word said, as you departed into your room. There was no energy to slam the door -- to give a little statement.

Throwing off the robe, along with the diploma, you laid down on the cold, wooden floor and closed your eyes. Five minutes, you just needed five minutes to gather your thoughts. You got four years left, in the same household. Then you would be free.

You never understood her stance. Why was it so easy to show to all of her dates and parties, but never to yours? When you stood on the stage, reciting your speech, you could see the numerous pairs of eyes of those proud parents.

You did want her to sit among them and weep.

You just want her there.

At this point, you would be grateful for anything. For the tinniest amount of your mother's affection that she so graciously gave to her boyfriends.

"Can I come in?"

The voice on the other side of your door pulled you out of your thoughts.

There he was her boyfriend.

You did not know why he knocked on your door and frankly, you did not care. He was going to be here long, there is no point in getting to know a temporary vise.

He could not overlook the redness in your cheeks and how swollen your eyes had gotten.

At that moment, you were thankful he decided to not care either.

Or perhaps?

"So, what food for the celebration?" he asked, trying to cheer up the mood, after a minute of an awkward silence.

You frowned.

"I was thinking, since it's raining, we could take a drive and pick up something for dinner."

There was an urge to leave the house, without a doubt. And you could either take a walk and come back soaked and cold, and mainly, hungry. Or you could follow him to the front door, watch him grab the cars keys and make yourself comfortable in the passenger seat.

The further the house had gotten, the lighter your shoulders had become. The burden of your frustration kept following you everywhere, like an unwanted traveler. But now, you had a moment to breathe out a little, after everything that had happened today.

Even if it meant taking a ride with mom's newest obsession.

For a moment, you cursed yourself for not taking your phone -- since the first few minutes of your drive seemed awfully awkward. You could have at least pretended to read something profoundly engaging instead of staring out of the window, visibly trying to avoid his sight.

He was not very talkative, but still, had this odd aura that floated around the car. There was no tension, especially once he put a cassette in, having the tunes of Billy Idol fill out the space between the two of you.

He had a good taste, you thought. But still -- he was not going to be here longer than two weeks. Why invest your time, you thought.

"So, valedictorian huh?"

After ten minutes of the drive, he finally decided to break through the initial awkwardness.

You looked up from your sneakers, staring at him.

"It's just a stupid red diploma case, nothing else," you shrugged your shoulders, whilst rubbing your fingers, nervously.

He chucked, shaking his head.

"You cannot be so modest, c'mon," he so exclaimed enthusiastically, you found yourself staring at him, little taken aback. "I mean," he gave you a quick look, before locking the eyes with the green light, "You should give yourself a little credit. It is an achievement."

Somewhere, in the pits of your heart, under the walls you were forced the built, there was laying a part of you, wishing to hear this. Only if the source could have been your mother. She had these sweets words for everyone, but you. There was never an applause to be given -- not that you would be asking for it. But a little pat on the shoulder never hurt anyone.

But she never cared enough to do it. So, you settled yourself with the determination to do more, to try more. The desperation ran through your veins like fuel.

Despite the desire to hide it, his words brought a smile on your lips. With that, the awkward silence vanished, as you drove through the suburbs, with Billy Idol's White Wedding.

That evening, somewhere in the middle of ordering your victory dinner, you learned that his name was Joel. And for the first time, you caught yourself thinking that, perhaps, it would not be so bad if your mother's newest vise stayed for more than two weeks.

Over the summer, to your surprise, your mother and Joel had grown significantly closer, travelling almost all the time. You found a job at your local cinema -- with too much free time on your hand, you could have used it for something practical. Saving money was always a good choice. You spent your days watching the same comedy three times in a row, covered by the smell of cheese popcorn and splashes of coke on your sneakers.

Of course, your mother would stop by -- although, mostly to just repack and set off, again. Throughout the summer holidays, you hardly ran into each other. Usually, she left before you got home from work. She would leave a concise note on the fridge (or, if she was running late, a text message) stuck together with a small chunk of money.

As the days went by, you happened to notice the uneasiness that suddenly settled in the pit of your stomach. You knew the source very well -- the good, old, fear of missed opportunities.

It was supposed to be your last summer before high school, naturally, there was the teenage urge to do something memorable. Something, perhaps, completely out of your comfort zone.

And, as it turned out, your empty house presented an incredible opportunity.

Before this sudden urge to fit into your generation, you had never thrown a party. Frankly -- you had no clue how to throw one. Clueless to arrange but eager to learn, the help of your friends seemed as the best fit. As people more fitting for the extrovert description, it posed no issue for them.

Thus, the curse landed on your shoulders.

Certainly, you had no idea how quickly these thinks can come together. It took bunch of your friends, pack of plastic cups, one text message and before you knew, the beer was lined up by the front door and your suburban house was filled with at least thirty people from which almost a half of it were high schoolers.

Seniors, if you may add.

Quickly, they managed to turn your dining room into beer pong game hall, with liquid spilling all over your mother's expensive rugs. Only then, the feeling in your gut started to cry out for help. There were the warning signs, hanging in your mind -- but each one was followed by a cup of beer, until you found yourself looking for a balance.

You lost the track of time, somewhere between your cups, as well as of your friends. It was supposed to be one, welcoming drink. But the more your house turned into a trashcan, the bigger was the urge to kill the voice in your head, cursing you.

For being so reckless in the first place.

Before this spontaneous get together, you had not encountered alcohol -- certainly not in form as large as this one. Rules of drinking were unknown to you; not that you would be too intrigued about them, in your state.

In that moment, the only think you cared about was to stand on your own for more than two seconds. The world around you had become a little dizzy -- this state of being was completely new for you which was quite noticeable for the ones around you.

So, it happened to be a matter of time before one of the seniors posed himself as the knight in shining armor.

If only.

You were aware of his presence but paid no mind at first. After another lost round of beer pong (with no surprise, against him), you had decided to get yourself some water to freshen up. You had no desire whatsoever to lead a conversation with him, let alone anyone else. You wanted to stumble back to your bedroom, lock the door and sleep this off.

Unfortunately, in your current state, path to your bedroom down the hall felt like a ten-kilometer-long hike.

trigger warning for the part below

"Are you okay?"

He could not have asked more useless question. The false concern almost made you chuckle.

"I am absolutely perfect," you grinned your teeth at him.

"You should get some rest," he spoke, unsettling smile on his lips as he brought himself closer to you, locking your possible ways out.

He was much taller, undeniably stronger and determined.

Without a doubt, that was the worst combination.

"Thanks," a forced smile landed on your lips. You had to be smart about this, given his advantages. "But I should actually go and look for my friends."

There was an attempt to make a move, quick slip out of his claws.

You have not even fully tried it, he was already in your away, again.

"I can help you look," the creepiness of his smile imprinted on your brain. "We can search your bedroom first."

The gulp in your throat grew so big, you thought it was going to explode in your stomach, pulling everything out as well. The anxiety was circling throughout your body, up and down, the sweat was running down your shoulders, despite how cold the room had become. Every bone in your body, every nerve sent a signal into your brain.

The fear was going to swallow you whole.

You have never encountered a situation like this. The uneasiness that suddenly held so tight on you.

You could have screamed but what that be good for? Everyone around were too drunk to notice and too unbothered to care, anyways.

Or perhaps, there were exceptions.

end of the trigger warning part

Just not exactly those you would ask for, voluntarily.

You always knew that the universe had its ways to fuck with you.

But this time, this time, came the cherry on the top.

When the scream echoed around the house, buying you an escape from this situation, leaving him too shocked to notice, you ran into the shambles that once used to be your living room, coming face to face with universe's sense of humor.

Dressed in a police uniform, wearing your mother's boyfriend's face.

There he was, catching the sight of your drunken appearance.

"Oh, fuck."

Your stunned reaction came louder than you initially intended, reaching the wrong ends.

His end.

"Officer Miller, we arrived at the scene of disturbance, over..."

You mother's never mentioned his occupation -- not that you would be dying to know, but having this intel beforehand, before you had decided to tarnish your and your mother's reputation, could have been a little useful.

Now, there was no way back, as you watched three other police officers enter your nearly-destroyed house. The number of scenarios lined up in your anxious mind, one coming off worse than the previous. Frankly, just the idea of your mother receiving such phone call, interrupting her annual girls' trip, the wrath would be horrid.

After that, you would wish to be invisible, in her eyes.

You had no idea how these things work. Couple of your friends once mentioned how a party, they attended, ended being busted but the process was never shared. So, you stood there, as though your limbs had frozen, watching the cops escorting all of the kids outside.

He could have been an asshole -- with all due honesty, part of you thought he would be. Your self-made catastrophe presented an incredible opportunity to turn himself into a hero in your mother's eyes. Her brave vise that had stopped her adolescent daughter from drinking her brains out.

But when the distance between the two of you decreased and his hand landed on your arm, you founded yourself letting a sigh of relief escape through your lips.

You were not out of the woods yet.

As inconspicuously as one could, Joel walked you out of the filled living room and back into the kitchen. He was aware of the liquid courage running through your veins -- after all, he was a cop. This, most likely, was not his first rodeo.

Also, he was not an idiot.

Or so you thought, for now.

It all depended on the events that were about to unfold.

"Here," he mumbled, handing you a glass of tap water, "get some more, I will be right back."

Within a second, he was one foot out of the door.

"What now?" you called out, curiosity prevailing the fear for a glimpse of second.

"They'll do search up, so unless you wanna get your ass busted, you better stay here."

With that, he departed into the hallway, as you dissolved into your anxieties, chucking one glass after another, naively hoping the sobriety would arrive sooner.

Despite the conditions, your foggy brain was capable of holding onto the ends, getting the grasp of what was going on, from the pieces you had gathered. There had to be an advantage he had found in helping you out, you thought. The possibility of him acting on the goodness of his heart seemed too absurd to even consider.

All at once, every partner your mother had brought into your life was a copy of his predecessor. One shallow as the other, hollow and unauthentic as the one before. None of them, especially those who you once had decided to give a little faith, succeeded.

So as exaggerated as it may came to be, you could not let yourself get easily fooled. Despite the part of you that wanted to.

Undoubtedly, there was something about him, the warm your mother never had.

But once that you started building castles in the air, you knew it was over.

So, you had to snap out of your liquid-influenced thoughts and stood stern on the ground.

There was no time to be naive.

Especially, once the so-thought, banished glimpse of danger entered your space, again.

just in case, (last) trigger warning for part below

In all directions.

It still baffled you how tall and buffed he was -- he could surely pass for an adult. Adult that should have no interest in girl your age, but here he was. With that intense gaze, sheepish smile and hands that quickly found their way to your hips.

"Brought you something," he whispered, reaching into his back pocket.

He slowly reached closer, his breath brushing against your cheeks, as his hand slipped in the back pocket of your jeans, tucking something in. Only then, he pulled away, hands still resting dangerously close to your body.

"Your friend told me you're coming in September," he smiled. "Figured we could finish what we started."

In that moment, you were stone cold sober.

"I think you should go," you mumbled, rubbing your fingers. "The cops and everything.."

You had to find an easy way to let him down. Words from people like him, especially the fabricated ones, travelled faster than one would have wanted.

But he turned out to be too persistent for your abilities.

"Seriously, you're gonna get in trouble," you chuckled, as forcibly as one could, to shake off the fear.

He laughed, shaking his head.

The false care was the right string to pull, as he became more curious of the sounds coming from the living room. The voices layered over each other, mostly coming from the cops and their walkie-talkies.

He turned around, one last time -- and the second his face lowered to your height, the worst flew over your mind, as the fear squeezed you like a ball.

For the first time in your life, you found yourself wishing to throw up.

Right into his face, right all over him.

end of the trigger warning part

"What the hell are you doing here?"

But perhaps, digestive problems could have been postponed.

When you found officer Miller standing by the kitchen entrance.

Officer Miller.

You were not sure whether it was the alcohol or the bizarre nature of this situation, but there was an urge to laugh over this phrase.

How absurd, you thought, that of all people, your mother would decide to date a police officer? The more you thought about this, the more you reassured yourself that he, truly, was not her usual type.

Whether it was a good or bad thing depended on the following twenty minutes.

The obtrusive boy gave you one last, nightmarish smile, before he followed your mother's vise out of the kitchen. You could not shake off the feeling his intrusive actions had left on you -- the eerie look on his face, the smile of winner. For awakening the fear.

You wished for this situation to disappear, cursing yourself for ever having such ideas.

After a while, the house fell into silence. The sirens outside the front door started to disappear, along with the heavy steps and chatters. You could not even think of the consequences that would follow this dreadful idea.

The urge to throw up arrived again.

And the kitchen sink turned out to be the only available option. So, naturally, within a second, every liquid your body had absorbed tonight, ended up exactly there.

There was no point in asking if this situation could have gotten any worse.

Because it could.

In the middle of cleansing your organs, whilst your hands were gripping the edges of the kitchen sink, you heard the slam of the front entrance, before a set of footsteps headed towards you.

It really could get worse.

Hair disheveled, mind on a rollercoaster and balance slowly disappearing into the night. Your already skilled friends knew how to throw a party -- just did not give you the manual of processing one. For a moment, you wondered whether your cheeks were splashed by the water, or perhaps, if those were tears, running down your neck.

Nothing about this night you wished to treasure. And you knew that what was about to follow -- was right behind.

Literally.

The pat on your shoulder startled you, almost hitting your forehead against the kitchen cabinet above. Slowly, turning off the faucet, you took a deep breath, trying to keep your existence in one place -- in all senses.

Knowing your current state -- Joel chose to be careful with the physical closeness, moving his hand away as soon as the room felt quiet again. Letting you turn away on your own, he stepped back, remaining focused, just in case your balance would decide to betray you.

"Get some more water," he mumbled, hands on his hips, as he watched you jump up on the cabinet. "That ain't smart, doin' this, y'know."

"Do I look like someone who makes smart decisions?" you hissed, wiping away the drops on your chin. Perhaps, the liquid courage was awaking, you thought.

Sigh escaped through his lips, now formed into thin line.

"Where's your mom?" he asked -- stepping into his police officer demeanor, frowning.

You chuckled, shrugging your shoulders, leaving him more confused than before.

"You don't know?" you looked up, mockery tone now swallowing your voice. "I'm surprised, considering you know more about her whereabouts than I do."

The sentence left a bittersweet taste in your mouth.

The frown has disappeared, as he stood there, noticing the shift in your attitude.

"Does she know?" he asked, after a moment.

The look in his face almost made you roll your eyes. It was the typical look of someone who was about to offer you a lecture no one had asked for. Considering your experience with your mother's temporary better halfs, Joel was just passing through. None of your mother's relationships passed the three months mark. He was about to be gone in a blink of an eye.

"Look, I am trying to help you--"

Now, there it was.

The sentence, all of them had practiced. The sweet-caring tone of his voice, the pitiful look in his eyes -- all of them were the same.

Or perhaps.

You could not bet on him.

"Okay," you mumbled, chuckling again. "Good for you."

Joel's frustration started to arise. You did not make it easy on him.

He shook his head, trying to maintain his patience.

"Listen, smart ass," he stepped closer, as the frown arrived again. Although, this time with disaffection. "An ounce of gratitude would not hurt you."

Bitting your lip, you got off the kitchen counter, now standing face to face with Joel. He was much taller, with broad shoulders -- he was the epitome of someone who tried to play the good cop.

"Okay, Joel," you whispered, deadly sarcastic.

It was a risky situation; you were well aware. But the events of this evening emptied the rest of your decency.

"Thank you for being such generous police officer, even though we both know your true intentions," you smiled and curtsied.

Now there it was.

The thin ice had been broken and Joel's patience ran over the edge.

"Excuse me?" he asked, offended.

"Excuse me," you whispered. "I've got a house to clean. So why don't you go ahead and give my mother a call? She'll be delighted."

Part of you knew that being this harsh could come back and bite you in the ass. Perhaps it was the defense mechanism -- your mother had never brought an exemplary man into your life. And if they happened to resemble one and you chose to believe it, they vanished into the thin air before you knew it.

You could not settle with the thought of Joel being an exception.

For your own good -- for the high hopes you would be willing to give him.

Joel stared at you for a little, without uttering a word. Which, you chose as an opportunity to leave this conversation for good.

But it took one step in your condition, for you to fall on your knees.

Howls of pain escaped through your lips.

And two steady hands pulled you back before you managed to smack your face against the cold, kitchen tiles.

"Fuck!"

Curse words were flying left and right, though Joel had decided to ignore that. He could have paid you back -- which you were kind of expecting. Instead, with one swift move, you were back on your feet, with Joel being the one responsible for your balance.

The world around became slightly dizzy. And, for a moment, it felt as though your limbs were made out of Jell-O. The funny bubbling in your stomach made you laugh.

"I think I am gonna throw up."

Was the last thing you whispered, before leaning against the floor, letting the remaining bits of alcohol depart on the tiles.

It was Joel who, once again, caught you in the last minute.

"You really are a fuckin´ pain in the ass, kid."

It really, really, could get worse.

[modelbus]

Who else could I possibly do this for except Wilbur? And does this even count as fluff?

Pairing: Cc!Wilbur x Gn!Reader

Flufftober 28 - History has its eyes on you

Wilbur’s hunched over a map, furiously scribbling on it. The sight makes you wince. Not because he’s defiling a priceless map of the country—he is—but because of what a mess he looks like. Unkempt hair spills wildly into his eyes, glasses smudged and dirty. His usual elegance and fashion is nowhere to be seen, leaving him in simple pants and a mismatched sweater.

You’ve been at war for 131 days, going on 132, and he’s been like this for all of them. It’s what war does to someone in charge, you assume. The leader of a country that was fighting for its life.

Everyone expects your country, and him, to lose. Wilbur’s determined not to let that happen.

“I brought tea.” You announce, setting the cup directly on top of the map.

“Thanks.” He murmurs distractedly, reaching for it and taking a drink. Wilbur pauses, narrowing his eyes and looking up at you. “This is—“

“Chamomile.” You confirm for him. “You need sleep, Wil.”

“I need to be strategizing. I need to be right here, doing everything I can.”

This is a familiar routine. In the midst of war, you enjoyed these familiar things. New and old.

“You’re of no help if you run yourself to death. A nap, Wil.”

“I really should start making you call me by title.” He grumbles, unmoving.

“And I really should start just dragging your ass to bed.”

Rounding the table, you stand next to him to stare at what he’s looking at. You manage more of the financial side of things, not the actual fighting, so all the lines and marks look like nonsense to you.

“I’m thinking we need to defend here more heavily. Our exports rely on it.” Wilbur taps a city along the water with his pencil end. There’s already loads of marks around the spot. “But that’s leaving this spot open. We can fill it by delegating soldiers from here, but we’re spread thin then.”

He was going to drive himself to the brink of insanity.

“Just take a break, please.” You implore. Although you’ve been regularly bringing him meals and water, sleep is a necessity too. “A nap. Two hours. I’ll even wake you.”

“Do you have any idea how many places can fall in two hours?”

“None, because your generals are the very best. Trust them.”

Wilbur scowls at nothing in particular, making you sigh.

“Let someone else take the reins for now.” You coax, hoping you’ll be making it somewhere.

“History has its eyes on me, not anyone else. Their failures are my failures.” He retorts.

You’ve known him since childhood, yet never would’ve imagined him in this situation. In charge of a country at war.

“History can wait.”

His head snaps up, and he finally turns his entire body towards yours. “No it can’t! We’re making it right now, and we need to…”

Wilbur trails off as you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. After a long moment he relaxes into it, dropping his head on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I can’t leave my country without me.” He murmurs into your ear.

“You won’t.” You promise. “I’ll get work done while you sleep, how about that?”

“Not for long.” He argues. Somewhere along the way, this turned into a negotiation rather than begging. You’ll take the progress.

“Eight hours.”

“One.”

“Five.”

“Two.”

“Five.”

“Three, and that’s final.”

“Deal.” Three is more than you expected from him, so you’ll take it. “Now, respectfully, get your ass out of here and into bed.”

Wilbur laughs softly into your shoulder. You can feel his smile pressed against your skin, which, in turn, makes you smile.

“Just another minute of this?” He implores quietly.

“Anything that you need.”

History does have its eyes on Wilbur, and unfairly so. But you’ll make certain his name in the history books will be gilded with gold, esteemed highly.

After a deep breath, Wilbur pulls away and straightens. He gives a longing glance back at his map, one you intercept immediately.

“No.” You deadpan. “Go.”

“And here I thought I had the highest position.” He grumbles, heading towards the door. He pauses there, looking back at you. “Thank you.”

“I’m not your best friend for nothing, Wil.” You reply softly.

He nods his head, then vanishes. You look around the room, taking in the multiple dull pencils and maps. There’s maps on the floor even, making your cringe. You said you’d get work done while he slept, and you will.

But first, you’ll clean this mess up for him.

[ryanthel0ser]

Now that I've read the DMC4 novel, the scene Dante tells Nero that Vergil is his father has changed for me. Having that extra context has me changing my interpretation of the whole scene and why Nero doesn't go looking for answers during that 5 year period between DMC4 and 5

Disclaimer: this is my own opinion and thoughts, not fact just speculation based on what we've been given

It's very easy to say that the scene where Dante tells Nero about Vergil that Nero is clueless before this and that this is some kind of new revelation to him. The DMC4 novel though implies Nero has some idea that Vergil, or to be specific, Dante's brother is his father. Not only does he refer to Yamato as his birthright but Sanctus straight up states

“It all makes sense now. That man must’ve been a descendant of Sparda. He must have impregnated a woman from Fortuna…”

TO Nero.

So what are the facts Nero knows:

He's a descendant of Sparda

His father was a foreigner

Yamato belonged to Dante's brother

Yamato chose Nero to wield it after he repaired it

Dante's brother has been dead for a while

So it's easy for Nero to assume that Dante's brother may have been his father, the problems that have now arisen are that last point and that the guy with any answers just left. I believe in Before the Nightmare, Nero thinks something along the lines of "his brother has been long dead, so why does it matter" to sort of shrug off the thought. But why shrug off this thought? Nero remarks how he had always wanted someone like Dante in his life (which he is a little annoyed with himself about because...it's Dante, who is nonstop teasing him) so why not think about his father and want to know more? I think there are two main reasons as to why Nero doesn't pursue more information.

Why get to know the guy if there's no chance you'll ever meet him? It's a sad thought yes, but from Nero's position it's a safe one. He's dealt with and is dealing with a lot of grief from both Kyrie's parents dying and Credo dying, adding on the yearning to meet a man that has been long dead would only make things worse for him. It's likely he also developed this defense during his time at the orphanage; he probably for a bit wanted to know who his parents were and wondered if they'd come for him at some point, but after years of wishing and wondering why he was abandoned he put up a defense of "it doesn't matter, so why try looking into it" and turned his attention to his present day family: Kyrie, Credo and their parents.

Fortuna is a wreck and I nearly lost Kyrie, I don't want to leave her alone to deal with all this and any possible danger that might arise We get a scene at the end of the DMC4 novel of Nero and Kyrie helping out with the recovery and in Before the Nightmare we know they are still helping and now running the orphanage, but are HELLA poor because Kyrie accepts payment in meat and veggies instead of money (cause she's a saint like that). Additionally, there are still demons appearing on occasion although not at the rate they were before the whole Savior incident. His whole motivation (ha) for fighting and keeping Yamato was to protect Kyrie, and after nearly losing her and losing Credo it's not a surprise he decides to stick by her side during these five years. He already had to watch her grieve her parents, now he has to be there for her when she grieves for her brother whilst doing everything she can to help the survivors. Leaving her alone does not justify the want for answers to Nero.

Having this in mind now, let's look at the situation surrounding Vergil's return and the scene Dante tells Nero "he's your father" from Nero's perspective.

He just learned from V that the giant demon king named Urizen is actually Dante's older brother Vergil and that they're fighting each other despite being brothers based on their opposing ideas

This mysterious guy who showed up out of nowhere with a ton of answers for things and none about himself is now deteriorating rapidly and wants to be there for when Urizen is defeated

V landed the final blow and all of a sudden there's a guy there who is apparently Vergil and he and Dante immediately begin fighting before Vergil leaves

He thanks me???

Somehow V was part of that guy

Dante is refusing to let me fight even though this guy taking my arm kicked this whole thing off

To us the audience, this doesn't seem as strange because we're used to DMC nonsense like splitting your being in half but to Nero who has only dealt with the events of Fortuna and this past month this is still bizarre and seems like the most insane set of events to happen.

And then Dante has the audacity to tell Nero to go home and that it doesn't concern him. This is the man that took his arm, the one that took his power, the one that nearly killed Dante, the one that is responsible for thousands maybe even millions of lives being taken and despite how confident Dante was in Nero last time they met in Fortuna and has seen what he is capable of with the Devil Breaker he seems to have thrown that all away?! His own rage at the whole situation blinds him in that moment and Dante hits him with

"He's your father!"

This snaps Nero out of it. As Dante explains, we can almost see the implications of it all set in for Nero. It makes perfect sense. But this man took his arm. This man was supposed to be dead. This man has caused so much destruction. This man was the one he had been working with this whole mission and the one he was fighting. This is the man that Nero never imagined even meeting. And he was alive, he was real, but could this be called a good thing when he's caused so much pain for others and Nero himself?

Nero has gained so much information in the span of an hour and now Dante is on his way to fight Vergil that is guaranteed to kill one or both of them. Like Nero says on the phone with Kyrie, he's suddenly gained a family and he might lose both of them if he doesn't do something. And he's not losing anyone else.

[justali-anne]

Drunk Skelebros Take

I just had a hilarious idea (at least in my opinion)!

Imagine that when Sans and Papyrus get drunk, they become the OPPOSITE kind of drunks to their usual selves.

Sans, for example, would turn into a wild party animal when drunk. In addition, I like to imagine that he has a very low alcohol tolerance (more on that later), so give him a couple of shots of whiskey and he's already in a hyperactive state. Expect drunk!Sans to be singing and dancing at the drop of a hat, flipping tables, disappearing and reappearing out of freaking NOWHERE, and having intense mood swings where he either laughs at everything or finds the most ABSURD reasons to cry ("fish don't have legs, bro, how can they run if they don't have any legs? *sob sob*"). However, even with all these absurd outbursts, there is one thing Sans will NEVER do when he's drunk: talk about his problems. In this state, Sans will be more focused on the present moment than any of the grievances in his life, and even if you try to pin him down and get him talking, he'd be too delirious to give you a comprehensible chat anyway. Bottom line is, someone will definitely need to babysit this guy when he's drunk, because left to his own devices... Well, he might just destroy the whole bar.

Papyrus, on the other hand, will actually slow down and become slightly more introspective when he's drunk. He'll just suddenly start asking the strangest, most "profound" questions and try to be all smart and philosophical, but they're really just a bunch of utter nonsense. ("ART? WHAT IS... ART? IS ART WHAT YOU CALL PENCIL MARKS? OR IS ART SOMETHING GREATER LIKE... THE UNIVERSE?") It doesn't stop there, either. Papyrus will take random strangers to the side and ask them strange questions, sometimes it's about the utter philosophical nonsense above, or it could be a bit... too personal for them. ("DO YOU EVER THINK THAT IF YOU HAD TAKEN A DIFFERENT PATH IN LIFE, YOU WOULD'VE ACHIEVED YOUR HOPES AND DREAMS BY NOW?") However, there are times where Papyrus could get really upset or even angry while drunk. He'd start bemoaning the littlest annoyances and all the problems in his life, which is the exact opposite of what Papyrus is normally like, so this kind of behaviour will be jarring to everyone around him. On the surface, Papyrus might seem fully functional while drunk, but out of the two brothers, surprisingly it's PAPYRUS who conks out first. Yeah, Sans may have a low alcohol tolerance, but Papyrus isn't much better.

My headcanon is that skeletons, in general, would have pretty sensitive and powerful magic. My reasoning for this is that while most monsters have organs and stuff to help them with their bodily functions (they just function differently due to magic), skeletons (and ghosts) will need a LOT more magic to achieve those same functions. Talking, eating, moving etc. So logically, I think alcohol would actually disrupt that magic, and if they have too much alcohol, a skeleton could actually fall apart and lose their basic functions. It's not fatal, just give it time and the skeleton can recover, but it's still pretty dangerous and terrifying when it does happen. The skeleton would just be in a state of paralysis and that's not good for anyone. And the weaker a skeleton is, the more likely this alcoholic paralysis is gonna happen.

Therefore, Sans and Papyrus have to be extremely careful about what they drink and how much they consume. A shot or two is enough to get them hammered, after all. Sans is more vulnerable, of course, for obvious reasons, but that doesn't mean Papyrus can take much more. He's tough, but he's still vulnerable. Both of them would start shaking and rattling if they drank too much. And hangovers are a NIGHTMARE. Sans would probably be bedridden, and Papyrus would pretend that he's fine and he's functioning properly, but if his rattling is any indication... yeah, he'd suffer.

Also these alcoholic principles don't work the same way on ghosts, since they're non-corporeal. I think the effects of alcohol on them would be different depending on the type of ghost, whether they have a body (like Mettaton) or not (like Napstablook). Or even if they're somewhere in-between (Mad Dummy/Mew Mew). I'll leave that for another time.

So, enjoy drunk skeletons!

[oddballwriter]

Werewolf!Moon Boys SFW Headcanons

Warnings: body horror, nothing graphic but the idea of the shifting process between human and werewolf is considered a form of body horror. Otherwise, wholesome monster bf content.  

Author’s Snip: I'm making food for the monster fuckers/lovers because no one else is in this fandom does and so I have decided to make our meals because I can and someone's got to do it.

Notes: Shout out to @piecesofusboth for the inspo. You are so right that a moon boys werewolf au is so perfect. I'm ashamed that I hadn't thought about it sooner.

Also, shout out to the og @melodygatesauthor too and her vampire MK series The Dark Side of the Moon and vamp!moon boys HCs. She is one of the few who have been feeding us with both monster moon boys and some tidbits of Khonshu. She also has some vampire reader content so go see that as well. Go read it, it's banger stuff.

And if you want I also have a series of my own revolving around a (gender-neutral) vampire reader and the moon boys, so if you're interested it's called Dwelling in the Night.

Anyways, I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Living

So I envision that the boys live somewhere secluded in the woods so that they can transform without people seeing them and getting scared and also because being a werewolf in a city with nowhere to really run doesn't sound ideal

They all like it in their own ways.

Marc because he likes it because no one will see them or come across them when they're out

Steven because I think he'd just like the atmosphere because he seems like the type to like living in a nice cabin and reading when they aren't affected by the moon

Jake because it gives them somewhere to run around when they turn

It is a bit of a hassle though because sometimes if they turn in the house they scratch something up or leave fur everywhere that someone will have to clean up when the sun returns and they turn back to normal

Turning

Turning doesn't exactly feel good. Obviously, because their whole body structure is shifting and changing in a short amount of time

Marc

Marc will usually leave the house before the moon fully rises because he doesn't want anyone to see it, even if you are his partner and you know and accept it

He just doesn't want you to see it in case it actually scares you off despite you saying that you won't

Marc also isn't too sure what would happen either. I'm going off the idea that when they turn they sort of lose themselves and are a bit more animal-like but still somewhat themselves. So he doesn't remember everything that happens and he doesn't want to risk possibly hurting you

So Marc will leave to turn somewhere in the woods and do whatever during the night in his state of mind and being, knowing that before he fully turns back he will come back to the house. That or he passes out close by and walks the way back

Steven

Steven doesn't really like the whole 'being a werewolf' thing and is actually really scared and anxious whenever the full moon is coming up

He'll also make an attempt to leave before he turns, both to not potentially scare you and as to not make a mess in the house

I do think that he has a little bit more trust in both you and himself though

If he notices that he can recognize things while turned then he slightly tests out the theory that he might recognize you and not harm you

That's how he and the rest of the system find out that they can, in fact, recognize people and things even when in werewolf state and mind

Jake

I think Jake sticks to the no turning inside the house rule most of the time but I also like to think that he says that it's fine if you let him in the house so long as he's not like... tearing shit up

I feel like because the transformation can be stress-inducing, Jake will often be the one fronting while turning and being in their werewolf state, and maybe with being more experienced in being in that state he's just a little bit more there compared to Marc and Steven

Jake will still run around and get everything and anything out of their system while in their werewolf state, but he will actually let you join and be around with him when he's like this

Like usually Marc will tell you not to be near them and Steven will say that you can be with him so long as he's not showing any potential of hurting you, but Jake outright says that you're good to be with him and walk with him around if you want

Aftercare

Turning back to normal is just as exhausting and takes out a lot from them, so you need to take care of them when the sun starts coming back and their body starts shifting back

Marc sometimes passes out before making it back home, and I like to think that he feels cared for when you do the effort to wake up extra early to go find him and bring him back home

He doesn't ask for much, just that you help him clean himself up and lay down

Steven is more aware of time and will be able to make it back and will make an effort to come back in just before exhaustion takes him

Just try and pick him up and carry him to a hot bath to help soothe his sore limbs and lay him in bed so that he can rest comfortably

Jake for the most part just wants you to be there while he shifts back

It might not be a whole lot but having you there gently shushing him feels nice to him. Afterwards, you can help him to bed

[cowboydisaster]

The Fire In Your Eyes

part IX: horseshoe overlook v

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 6.1k

summary: Three days after watching Arthur fall, three days of grief, three days of regret, and it all comes crashing down on you in one bittersweet moment.

a/n: here we are fellas... a much awaited chapter, technically the second half of last chapter. Star waits three days at the bank of the river... and so I've made you wait three days too. I want to say a few things so if you're sticking around to read the notes buckle up. Firstly I could absolutely not have done this chapter without Margo (linked below). She literally held my hand through writing this lol, and offered me more support, kindness, and praise than I deserve. She gave me so many tips and ideas and suggestions for this and I'm just so proud of the way it turned out, thanks to her. This was a group effort for sure. Secondly, I'm still in shock from the level of support this series has been getting. Its just incredible to see how many people come back so consistently. Last but not least, I love you guys, really I do. And I can't wait to see what you guys have to say about this chapter.

beta read by @margowritesthings

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni, violence

series extras

SERIES MASTERPOST

It's been three days, searching the banks, knowing that he won't be back, won't be coming home. You saw him hit the water, and he didn't come back up. A fall like that is barely survivable. You know he's gone and it isn't until you allow yourself to think it that you break. All that you should have told him, should have opened up about and you didn't. You didn't. And now Arthur will never know any of it.

Arthur is gone, and he left thinking that you didn’t want him. You hate yourself, for your inability to open up and you hate him for this whole job. You told him you didn’t feel right about it but no one listened. Now he's gone and you're so mad, so angry with the world and your heart and him. 

It's pouring, thundering and lightning in the dark night and you've started to accept that he isn't coming back. In your head you know it, it's all you've thought about. You know he's gone, he's never returning to you, but your anger keeps you from returning to camp because what is the gang to you without Arthur? Can you really go back there and live with his ghost?

The rain pounds down on the top of your tent, falling down and drenching the ground. Lightning lights up the night, showcasing to you the dark, empty lake. John had come by a day ago, and when you realized he was alone your heart shattered all over again. It's a strange thing, you realize, to love someone but never have the courage to admit it until it's too late. Thinking back, you know you loved Arthur, it's obvious, but you couldn't admit it at the time. It took losing him to realize how much you need him. You don't know who you are, here now, without him. You belong nowhere, you have nothing, you want nothing other than him. 

You think about going up north, up to West Elizabeth for a while, but you can't bring yourself to leave the shore just in case. You haven't eaten. You haven't slept. You've been sitting in this tent at night haunted by ghosts and regrets, and surveying the lake in the day, futile as it may be. You know you need to do something, to go somewhere other than this damn shore, but you're lost. Your head tells you to run, but your heart tells you to go back to those who care about you. 

Arthur cared about you. And it's sick, and it's twisted but you're so mad at him for your feelings, so mad that he cared about you so much because it made losing him that much harder. 

Lost in thought, you don't even hear the footsteps as they approach the tent, nor do you hear Balius's quiet nicker. The rain doesn't help, coming down along with thunder that shakes the ground. You don't even notice his presence until he speaks up. 

"Star?" 

Everything stops. Your eyes go wide, and immediately fill with tears at the familiar, gravelly voice that you haven't been able to get out of your head for three days. At first you're sure you're imagining it, losing your mind, until he speaks up again. 

"Star? Y'in there?" He asks again, and too shocked and confused to speak, you crawl out of the tent. Your eyes land on him as you stand in the rain and you freeze, mouth agape. He looks…  he looks fine. And you take a step back as the emotion of it all comes crashing down. At first you're shocked and confused, and then you're relieved… and then you're mad. Because you spent three days thinking he was dead, and he's standing in front of you washed up in a brand new outfit with a smile on his face. The rain soaks in your clothes, drenching you as you try to breathe. 

"Where have you been?!" You cry out, full of emotion and fear and rage. Arthur sees it all playing out on your face, and his eyebrows draw together. 

"What-" He begins but you interrupt him.

"Why are you walking up here  like everythings just fine? Where were you?!" You half cry- half hiss, thinking of all the time you'd spent scanning the water, waiting for his body to wash up. 

"Swam down the river and hid out for a couple days till the bounty hunters lost me." Arthur sighs like it's the most obvious thing in the world, "What's the matter wit you?" 

Arthur isn't used to having someone to return to. No one asks or complains if Arthur comes back late from a job, he's never had anyone care so much as to worry for him like this- he's just not used to it.

You huff, a humorless, sarcastic laugh. 

"So you were just hidin' out?" You ask as a loud boom of thunder shakes the ground. 

"Yeah." Arthur huffs, irritated with your attitude. Your tone is angry, condescending and sarcastic as you continue on. Tears fill your eyes, but he can't see them in the dark.

"Well, I'm glad you've been safe all this time." You reach into your tent grabbing his hat before throwing it towards him angrily. "Here's your damn hat. Found it washed up in the river after you fell. Y'know, it would have been nice if you let me know- If you let me know you were just camping, taking a few days off while I've been here!" You yell, fighting back sobs, watching as he grips his soaked hat, growing more confused. 

"Star- what is your problem?" 

"It doesn't even matter." You toss your hands in the air, chuckling humorlessly. Your hair is soaked through, and Arthur glances to the sky as it lights up with bright white lightning. 

"Clearly it does matter! Ain't my fault you can't express your damn feelings!" He yells, growing angry alongside you. 

"Oh, that is rich coming from you. Like you can?!" You immediately bite back, voice growing louder as you step closer to him. 

"Yeah! I can, with you! I told you about my past, about my son and my parents and Mary! And I know nothing- I know nothing about you- what you want, where you've been." Arthur yells louder than the thunder, pointing his finger in your face as he does so, "You won’t open up and it's killing you. God- what are you so afraid of?! What's holdin’ you back? It's eating at you and you won't just deal with it SO WHAT IN THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLE-" 

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!" You yell, stepping forward with your shoulders squared, meeting him with just as much aggression. You're so angry with him, for the train and for coming back like nothing happened. Your anger gets the better of you as you lean forward, hands pressed against his chest and you shove him backwards with all the fire you can muster, growling as you do. He stumbles backwards, eyebrows drawn together as you ball your fists, ready to scream at him, to berate him for leaving you out here. But at the thought, something in your heart cracks, and the fire and the rage pales in comparison to the fear of losing him. 

A loud boom of lightning sounds out, and Arthur prepares for your inevitable verbal knives with his eyes cast on the ground, but you never throw them. 

When he looks back up, your shoulders are rising up and down heavily, and your finger points at him like you're about to chastise him, but you don't. He watches as your shoulders slump slightly, and he sees the way your hand, pointed at him, falters. Glancing up to your eyes, he sees that you're fighting back tears, and biting down on your lip to stop it from trembling. 

Exhausted, and terrified and hurting, you can't find it within you anymore to yell. In fact your voice is barely above a whisper as you meet his green eyes, 

"I spent days thinking you were dead… Do you have any idea what that was like?"  

Arthur sees the moment that you break. He watches as your face crumples, and he sees the pain that you've been going through. God, he didn't even think. He didn't even think. You crumple, erupting into quiet sobs as you hold your face in your hands. In two strides his arms are around you, and you sink into his touch, letting all of the pain and the grief be washed away by the rain.

"I'm so sorry, Star. Shit, I'm so sorry. I'm here. It's okay." He coos, protecting you from the rain with his warmth as you sob into his shirt, wrapping your arms around him to make sure he's really here. 

"John had to pry me away from that bridge…" You choke out, "I thought you were dead and I can't- I can't lose you, please, please don't leave me-" You whimper, feeling more vulnerable than you ever have in your life, but knowing that you trust Arthur with every fiber of your being to be the one to piece you back together. At your words, Arthur's heart shatters, falling to the ground in fragmented pieces along with your own that had fallen apart three days ago. Even with the rain, lightning and the pitch black, he cups your cheeks, pulling your teary eyed gaze up to him. 

"Look at me. You aren't alone- look at me, Star- I'm not going anywhere." 

And looking into his eyes, seeing him here, you know it's a promise he intends to keep. He's in front of you, he's safe, and having him here is too much and not enough all at once. He's scanning your eyes, searching for something to signal that you're going to be okay, and that's when it happens. With his hands resting on your face, and his eyes searching yours, you lean up on your toes, and you kiss him. You kiss him with everything you have in you, ignoring the storm and the pain in your heart. You thought you'd never have the chance to do this. And with him here in front of you, you need him to know that you want him too. You've repressed so much love and so much emotion, and now that he's here in front of you, you can't help but feel it all. 

He's shocked at first, eyes open and lips slack until he catches up and leans back into you with just as much emotion. His eyes slip shut, and you curl your hands into his shirt, opening your mouth for him to gain entrance. Your tears slip down your cheeks, mixing in with your lips. It's hungry and raw and filled with the emotion of you terrified of losing him, and needing him in every way possible now that he's here.

You pull away to catch your breath, tears slipping down your cheeks as you look up to him, making sure once again he's still here. He smiles down at you, wiping your cheek with his thumb, smearing the rain and the tears away. And then you're pulling him back down to you, kissing him again with the same hunger, and he kisses you back. His hands grip onto your waist and he pulls you against him as your lips slot against each other. It's him who breaks the kiss this time, and he looks down to your eyes, his green irises searching yours and seeing the intention in your gaze.

"You sure you want this?" He asks you, rain soaking his hair and causing a piece to hang down in front of his face. 

"Stop talking." You whisper, barely a breath as you run your fingers through his hair before leaning up to kiss him again. Your hands grip onto him, and you whimper into his mouth as his tongue mixes with yours. You need more, you need him. You need to know he's with you. 

Arthur seems to read your mind, hands grabbing the underside of your thighs as he pulls you up against him, carrying you. Your legs wrap around his hips, and you only break the kiss momentarily as he carries you into the tent. He lays you down on the soft blankets, taking a moment to admire you laid before him in the lantern light. Then he lines your body, leaning over you on his forearms as the storm rages on outside. His lips are on you again, in the crook of your neck, kissing the spot where your pulse beats erratically. Your legs are still wrapped around his waist, and as he kisses you, his left hand unbuttons your shirt. 

"You done this before?" Arthur asks, pressing messy kisses to your jawline. He remembers your conversation up in the Grizzlies, and he's almost certain this is new for you. You shake your head. 

"No." You admit. You're no saint, but you've never trusted anyone enough to go this far, not before Arthur at least. 

He exhales, nodding, but he seems hesitant, his hands slowing on your buttons. You grip either side of face, pulling his attention to you.

"I want it to be you. I need it to be you." You admit, whining as he groans, nodding. He leans back, sitting up in between your legs to shed his clothes. You help, pulling his shirt off of him quickly once the buttons are undone. He's left in just his jeans then, but you stop him from taking them off. You pull him down back over top of you, and he obliges, though a bit confused. 

"Kiss me." You plead, and he does. He kisses your lips over and over again, he kisses your neck and your jaw and your forehead while you get used to everything. He wants to do right by you, he wants to do this your way. 

You reach your hand down between your bodies as Arthur pops the last button to your shirt. You line your hand along the bulge in his jeans, and you press against it, eliciting a deep groan from Arthur. You smirk, popping the button of his jeans before slipping your hand inside. You wrap your hand around his shaft, feeling how much he wants you. 

It's overwhelming, all the feelings he gives you. In every way. He's perfect. Warm and loving, and his tan skin is kissed with freckles all over and he's so beautiful it makes your heart ache.

"I'm ready, but I don't know- How do we do this?" You whisper against Arthur's ear. You're letting him take control, and he nods, kissing your lips softly. 

"Let me take care of you, let me be strong for you." He whispers, pulling your shirt over your shoulders and kissing your collarbone until there is a mark.  Then he leans down, pulling your dark jeans down over your legs by the waistband, leaving you fully exposed. Once your denims hit the discarded pile of clothes, Arthur leans back, smiling down at you. You can't find it within you to be self conscious, not with the way he's looking at you. You lean up on your elbows, watching him drink you in as he leans up to grip onto your hand. 

"You're so beautiful…" He mumbles, eyes trailing up your figure lovingly. He squeezes your hand, and leans down to your right thigh where a messy scar lies, the gunshot wound from Blackwater. He kisses the scarred skin. 

"N' so strong." He whispers, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.  Leaning up to meet him, you crash your lips against his own, trying to shove his jeans down off his form. He chuckles, leaning back to shed the denim. Now both fully undressed, he stops, looking over you again. Your wet hair is sprawled out on the blankets, lips plump from where he's kissed them. He's sure you're the most beautiful thing he's ever laid eyes on.

"Arthur-" You whimper, pulling him back down to you by his hand. He takes his time warming you up. There's no rush, and you're so glad to just be together. 

He places kisses down your chest, in between the valley of your breasts, and you chuckle, fingers intertwining into his hair as you pull him back up to your lips. 

"Arthur?" You breathe out. 

"Hmm?" 

"Touch me." You plead, spreading your legs for Arthur. He smiles, running a finger down your thigh as he leans in to kiss your neck. You gasp, feeling his fingers brush against your core. He stops, groaning when he feels how wet you are, the sound cathartic. Then once you wrap your legs around his waist, he resumes his pace. His thumb gently rubs around the small bundle of nerves at your core, and you gasp, gripping onto his shoulders as he continues to kiss your neck. Then as his thumb continues, his middle finger stretches into your tight heat, and your nails dig even deeper into his shoulders. 

"Please, just-" You beg, but he stops you, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

"Sweetheart, I gotta take my time. I don't wanna hurt you." He says, and you nod, trusting him. He works his finger in you for a while, curling it up and coaxing little gasps from you. Then, he stretches a second finger into you, and you wince from the pull, but after a while of him working you, it starts to feel good. And shortly you're breathing quickly, ready. 

"Perfect." Arthur whispers, sliding his fingers out of you while he presses a kiss to your forehead. His arms flex on either side of your head as he holds himself up, and your legs wrap around his waist as he lines himself up. 

"You ready?" 

"Yes, yes-" You mumble. 

You feel the tip of his length against your entrance, and you spread your legs even further for him. And then he's sliding in, slowly. You gasp loudly, gripping onto him tightly as he thrusts in, slow as to not hurt you. 

"S'it hurt? You okay?" Arthur asks, stilling as you toss your head back and pant. 

"No- yes-?" You whimper, acclimating to the feeling. You nod, signaling him to continue as the thunder rumbles outside, not nearly as loud as your gasping breaths.

"Oh, Arthur-" You moan as he slides into the hilt, and bumps into your sweet spot. He slides back out partially, and then picks up a slow, steady rhythm. Your body arches beneath him, and you moan, pulling his face down to yours in search of his lips, tears coming in rivulets. He kisses you again, giving you butterflies as he thrusts in and out of you. You grant him access to your mouth then, and when he pulls away to breathe, still thrusting steadily, you whimper, tears running down your cheeks. 

"Star?" Arthur asks, worried. And he stills his movements. 

"No- don't stop." You beg, pulling his head down into your chest as he resumes his movements. 

"I'm so glad you're okay Arthur." You cry, shaking against him as you hold his head against you. 

His lips are on yours then, reminding you that he is here with you, safe, loving you. 

"I'm right here, darlin'." He reassures, and you nod against him, biting your lip. You can't help the moans that you start to let out, timed with every one of Arthur's thrusts. He runs his thumb over your hard nipple, teasing it and giving you goosebumps. You don't have to worry about the noise, as there is no one to hear you but the raging storm outside. The power of the black clouds, bright lightning and pounding of rain pale in comparison to the crashing together of you and Arthur. Your moans seem to encourage Arthur, and he begins to thrust even harder into you, kissing you in between his movements. You can't keep your hands off of him, running them from his face, pulling his lips to yours or digging them into his shoulders as you gasp and moan. 

He feels the same way, gripping your hips, kissing your breasts, and your lips and your neck it's almost too much. You feel yourself approaching an orgasm quickly, but you fight it, clamping down on yourself in an attempt to slow the process. You don't want this moment to end, you could stay here forever with him, and never have to worry about anything else. But your abdomen clenches and you feel your nerves begin to tingle. Arthur isn't oblivious to this, and he runs his thumb over your sensitive bud, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"Star, let go." He whispers, lightly biting your earlobe. You shake your head, gripping his shoulders as tight as you can manage. .

"No." You argue, squinting your eyes shut and shaking your head, thighs clamping around him as you try to stop the inevitable. 

"Darlin, let go. I told you, I'm not goin' anywhere." He whispers again, and you release, automatically setting off the intense waves of pleasure that crash down over you. You set Arthur over the edge, constricting around him and your moans fill the tent as you arch your back, pulling his lips down to yours. You moan into his mouth, hips rocking against his own as you climax, feeling so close to him and so intimate and vulnerable. You never knew it could be such a beautiful thing. 

He begins to groan loudly in your ear, and you pull him down to you as you continue to rock and moan against him. Your grip on him tightens, and you're not sure whether or not he's planning on pulling out, but you don't want him to. You need him with you. Your legs wrap even tighter around him and he gets the message. A few stuttering breaths later and Arthur groans, grinding his hips against you as he finishes in you, lips pressing kisses to your own between heavy groans and breaths. 

His forehead falls against yours, resting there as he catches his breath. You do too, still clinging to him in every way possible. After a few moments, he presses a slow kiss to your forehead, and then slides out of you. You wince from the pull, but once he lies down on the blankets beside you, he pulls you into the crook of his arm and covers you with the blanket. You rest your head on his chest, soothed by his heart beat after the past three days. 

"You okay?" Arthur asks, running his hand up and down your back over the blanket. You nod, truthfully. 

"I think I'm better than I've been in a long time." You admit. Arthur leans up on his elbow, grabbing your canteen from his side of the tent. 

"Here." He offers you the water, and you take it willingly, sipping down some of the cool liquid before handing it back to him.

You cuddle down against his chest again, hand sprawled out on his stomach as he looks up at the ceiling, thinking. 

"We gotta talk about this. Please, don't close up again, not now." Arthur says, worried that come morning you'll close yourself off again. You nod. Truly, you have no intention of hiding anymore, not after tonight. But for now you don't want to talk, you just want to be with him.

"In the morning?" You ask, tucking yourself into his side, yawning. 

"Yeah, in the morning." He whispers, and you lean up, pressing one last, slow kiss to his lips. He chuckles as you toss your leg over his, formed tightly against him. 

"Arthur?" You ask, not meeting his eyes. 

"Hmm?" He asks, hand still running up and down your back while the other holds yours tightly. 

"I'm so glad you're okay." You say again, a tear falling down your cheek and getting lost against his chest hair. You draw stars on his bare skin, distracting yourself as he wraps the blanket tighter around you both, protecting you from the thunder outside. 

"I know, sweetheart. S'alright now, you just get some sleep."

Everything seems to make sense now, like it's finally fallen into place. You grip onto his hand, holding it as you start to drift off to sleep. You're his grief, his joy, everything he desires and loves. And you feel the same about him. You've denied yourself this for so long, that finally having it happened in one big collision. You wouldn't change it, lying here with him now. You know you have to talk about this, and you have to get Arthur back to camp, but it's all a problem for tomorrow. Right now it is about the two of you, just existing together for the first time.  

— — — — 

When you begin to wake up, it takes you a few moments to come to your surroundings. Your eyelashes flutter open, eyes squinting to block out the harsh sunlight that is filtering through the tent flap. There is a strong, steady warmth underneath you, and realizing your surroundings, you smile. Your head is laying on Arthur’s chest, legs still intertwined and hands still locked together under the blankets from the night before. Arthur's other hand runs soothingly up and down your bare back, and you prop your chin on his chest to look at him.

"How'd you sleep?" He asks, voice deep and groggy. 

"Real good." You hum, telling the truth. You've slept in the same bed as Arthur on a handful of occasions, but you've never been able to do so as openly as now. You've never woken up so content before, even with the residual ache in your hips. It's a good ache, a reminder of where Arthur had touched you, binded his body to yours in the most intimate of ways.

"I'm sorry that I just… jumped you last night." You whisper with a chuckle, fingers running down Arthur's chest, tracing through the sandy blonde hair there. 

"Do you regret it?" Arthur asks, looking down at you sprawled over his chest. Immediately, you shake your head.

"No. Not at all." You say truthfully. Even though the circumstances around your crashing together were less than ideal, you don't regret it even for a moment.

"Good." Arthur hums, smiling down at you. 

It grows quiet for a while, comfortably so. You listen to the birds and the river, but mostly Arthur's steady breathing, and you realize that you could lie here with him forever. You thought you'd lost him, and now that he's here, you can't bring yourself to let go for fear that he will disappear again. At the thought, you realize that you've not discussed what happens now, and a question forms on your lips. Your hand is still intertwined with Arthur's, and you play with his fingers as you speak up. 

"I reckon I already know the answer to this… but this was more than just sex right?" You ask, a little nervous. You're almost certain this is an emotional commitment, but your anxiety still prods at you. Arthur cracks a smile, bringing your wrist up to his lips before tenderly kissing the point where your pulse beats.

"Yes," He laces his fingers back with your own, "I'm all yours darlin', if you'll have me."

"Always." You whisper, ear pressed against his chest. The rhythmic pounding of his heart is a sound you can't get enough of as you slip your eyes closed, still reassuring yourself that he's here. 

"We gotta head back soon," You sigh, "I know John is worried sick. I'm sure everyone else is too." You whisper, feeling a pang of guilt in your chest for keeping John in the dark while you'd kept Arthur to yourself all night. 

"Just a few more minutes." Arthur counters, wrapping his arms around your waist. His thumb glides over your lower back, and you look up to see him lost in his head again. 

"Why did you stay out here? Why didn't you go back to camp with the others?" Arthur asks, propping his hand under his head to look at you. 

"How could I have left you? I didn't know if you were alive, I didn't think you were, god- that fall… but the thought of you hurt somewhere, or needing help, I couldn't just leave." You whisper, emotion bubbling up again at the thought of his fall. You don't bother to hide it anymore, even though your nature wants you to. 

"I can't stop seeing it, Arthur. I've never been that scared in my life." You admit. 

"It was a hell of a fall, I'll tell you that. Hurt like hell hittin' the water too. I didn't even know if I was alive, the water turned me around real bad and then I was on the shore of the Upper Montana River." He explains, eyes lost in the memory, "Hid out for a while and I heard the law whistles so I stole a horse n' ran to Strawberry. I was so worried about you… I didn't see you get away." 

"Cause I didn't." You whisper, "John had to pull me away from the bridge. Athena carried me here and I sat in the grass the rest of the night just… waiting for you," You take a deep breath, a loose tear slipping down your cheek, "and then your hat washed up, and I was sure you weren't coming back."

You can't shake it. Every time you bring up the bridge it all comes rushing back. 

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't come back to you." Arthur hums, feeling terribly guilty as he sits up in the tent. You sit up next to him, pulling a blanket around your shoulders to cover your breasts. 

"Well, you're here now." You whisper, teary eyes looking into his. He shakes his head, and you see the regret in his eyes. 

"I shouldn't have called you a hypocrite. That was unfair of me." Arthur says, and your hand reaches up to his cheek, running through the thick stubble there. 

"No, you were right. That's somethin' I've thought about a lot the past few days, somethin' I plan on workin' on." You say, "And, Arthur, I shouldn't have gone through your journal."

Arthur huffs, humorously. 

"S'all you anyway." Arthur admits, and your eyebrows pull together, not understanding. 

"My journal. It's all you." He reiterates and you smirk. 

And then he's pulling you into his lap, unable to keep his hands off you now that he's able to touch you like this. 

"We have to go." You chuckle as Arthur runs his thumb over the purple splotches on your collarbone. His lips are on your jawline in a heartbeat, pressing slow, languid kisses to it. 

"They can wait." He whispers against your skin, thumbs gripping onto your bare hips as the blanket slips down from your shoulders. You lean into his kisses, loving the feeling of his lips on your skin, something you've denied yourself for so long. 

Your stomach grumbles lightly, and Arthur slowly leans back, raising an eyebrow at you. 

"You eaten anything?" He asks, and you sigh. 

"No." You admit, sighing as he slides you down off of his lap. 

"C'mon, let me make you breakfast." 

"Didn't think you were the type; cookin' a girl breakfast the morning after." You chuckle as Arthur starts plucking your wet clothes up off the floor, tossing them in a useless heap. 

"Yeah, well… only for you." Arthur huffs, grabbing your saddlebag from his side of the tent.

"You got any other clothes? These are drenched from the rain." Arthur asks, nodding to your outfit from last night. You nod, searching through the bag until you find a decent outfit. You grab a pair of black jeans and a white long sleeved shirt and you pair it with a tight black vest and a choker-style neckerchief, it's a damn cute outfit. 

“Alright, go on and get breakfast ready, I’m starvin.” You joke, pulling your shirt over your arms and buttoning it from the bottom up. Arthur laughs, eyes lingering on you for a moment before he groans, getting himself dressed for the day. 

He makes a little fire out front, and you smile, sitting at the entrance of the open tent as he prods and pokes at the smoldering logs with a stick. He puts on a little pot of coffee, and pulls a few cans from his satchel. 

“It ain’t much, but it’s what we got.” Arthur says, stabbing his knife into the top of one of the cans and cutting away the seal. He hands it out to you then, and you smile at the label. Strawberries, another delicious treat that Arthur had stashed away in his bag.

“It’s perfect.” You hum, slipping your fingers into the can and pulling out one of the berries. Today proves to be the calm after the storm, and despite the rain that soaks into the ground, covering the grass in a mist, the day is beautiful. The sun shines brightly down onto you and Arthur, sipping your coffees and making quiet, comfortable conversation. One by one, eating the berries, you begin to feel replenished. Not having eaten for the past three days, too devastated to even move, you devour your whole can of strawberries, and then you pick at Arthur’s. It breaks his heart a little, seeing how you’ve deprived yourself of basic needs in his absence, but he says nothing. You squint your eyes shut, relishing in the warm bitterness of your coffee until you’ve drunk it all down. 

“Thank you.” You say, placing the empty cup on the ground next to the empty cans, “For everything.”

“Course.” Arthur smiles, standing from the ground with a groan. He picks up the trash, and you raise an eyebrow at him as he tosses it into the woods. In just a matter of one night he’s managed to piece you back together, both physically and emotionally. It’s a debt you’ll owe him forever, though you know he’ll ask for nothing in return. 

“Star?” Arthur asks, looking at the tent as you stand from it, packing up, “This John’s tent?” He asks, looking over the familiar dark camping kit, one that he’s pitched his own next to on many occasions while out working.

Your eyes go wide and you snort, remembering that John had left you his camping kit back when you’d told him you planned on staying by the river. 

“Oh my god-” You say, horrified, “We’ll have to get him a new one.” 

Arthur chuckles, amused as he brings the tent down and starts packing it up with the blankets. 

“Nah, he won’t know.” Arthur brushes it off, snickering to himself. 

“Arthur-” You chastise, jaw open slightly as he rolls everything up and ties it onto the back of Balius. Arthur says nothing, a smirk on his lips as he walks to the front of his scarred shire, petting his head. 

“Missed ya, boy. I hope you took real good care of the lady while I was gone, I know you did.” Arthur whispers to his stallion, patting his neck a few times while pulling some mints from his saddle bag. He gives Balius one, and then looks back to you, blushing at the smile on your lips from his whispering. 

“Ready?” He asks, gripping the horn of his saddle. 

“As I’ll ever be.” You sigh, kicking dirt into the fire before mounting onto Athena, patting her in thanks for getting you across the river all those days ago.

You wonder what happens now. When you return to camp will Arthur showcase your newfound relationship?- If that's what you’re calling it, that is. You don’t know if things will slip back into their usual routine, or if this will change everything. You’re not ready for the gawking, hushed whispers of the girls, or the disapproving glare of Dutch. Though it's nonsensical, you feel that everyone will know what happened out here, and you feel terribly selfish for spending the night with Arthur when his own family didn’t even know he was alive. Still, you don’t regret it. 

Trotting across the river back towards Horseshoe Overlook, back towards home, you glance up ahead. Arthur is in front of you leading the way, and you release a breath, letting all of the worry and the guilt fall from your shoulders and be lost in the river. Because no matter what faces you back at camp, he's with you now, by your side with no intentions of leaving. You'll face it together.

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[gachagon]

Hmmmmm but has he really dropped them?

I've been thinking a little about this chapter and it kind of seems too "easy" for Isagi to just come up with the same solution that took Kaiser like a whole arc to come to. And when Kaiser finally realized the truth about himself it was enough to shake his entire foundation as a person all together. And I just feel like Isagi isn't on that level yet here in this chapter.

To me this whole chapter kind of feels like Isagi is getting ahead of himself, and isn't coming to the right solution. As if he is doing a complicated math problem, but you can tell he's going to get the wrong answer. And I think a large part of that is because Isagi isn't all that aware of the other people around him at the moment.

Isagi is able to pinpoint the "when" part of Kaiser's realization but not the "why" or "how", and he doesn't even spare a moment to actually think that maybe it's a bit deeper than Kaiser not caring about their silly rivalry anymore. And I'm not saying Isagi should be a mind reader, but I will point out that for someone who's supposed to be pretty observant of the field he sure doesn't question the motivations behind his fellow players at all outside of the vague idea of "ego".

And I think we here on Bllk Meta tumblr can all agree that our boy Isagi is missing quite a lot of stuff aside from just one central piece to the puzzle. I kind of don't think Isagi will score (if he does I'll be really surprised tbh with you) because I think this is all leading up to a bait and switch. Isagi will think he has figured it out, and then run into another wall right at the last moment before he loses.

And it's literally anyone's game at this point. There's multiple people who could score that I think would really drive the point home to Isagi. Loki could score instead since he is again a lot faster than the others, and especially faster than Isagi is. That, and I can definitely see Loki forseeing the cogs in Isagi's mind churning to reach the wrong conclusion, and since he's so academically attuned to everything he's got the right answer that Isagi was missing.

Ness could come from nowhere and score since he's desperate to prove himself, or maybe while the others are preoccupied with trying to score he's had his own silent epiphany and realized things about himself.

I could even see Igaguri scoring (not really there's not a chance in hell) and everyone being gobsmacked, including Isagi because somehow someway THAT guy got the "right" answer before he did.