#he wants to be known he wants to be held. he wants to feel things. he can't.

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 15

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.7k

Note : I have a lot on my inbox and I haven’t been replying a lot lately, but I will go through them tomorrow! Please let me know if I miss anyone on the tags! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

“Name a Price”

Tuesday.

You had said it all—every bitter feeling, every thread of anger that festered so deep inside you that you barely knew where you ended and it began. Alex hadn’t interrupted, hadn’t even shifted in her seat.

She just sat there beside you, listening like she did the first time.

Not as someone who pitied you— but as a friend.

For a while, she didn’t say anything. 

You stared at the glass case in front of you, the one holding Bucky’s war uniform— a symbol of his past that he was still piecing together.

You began to wonder if he’d been someone else back then— someone untouched by Hydra’s corruption. 

But you knew better. That uniform belonged to a man already carrying scars from war you couldn’t begin to fathom. Hydra just amplified it, took advantage of it, added to it.

“I’m not defending Bucky,” Alex finally spoke, “But let me ask you something—hypothetically. If you were still with him, and he somehow forgot all about his Winter Soldier days, would you remind him?”

What?

You turned to her sharply, mouth agape with shock. “That’s not fair.”

“I’m not trying to be fair,” she replied calmly, “it was just a hypothetical question.”

Your hands clenched into fists in your lap. “But that’s neither here nor there,” you muttered, looking away.

“Is it?” Alex pressed, her tone patient but unrelenting. “The only difference I see is scale.”

Her words lingered in your brain like a disease spreading. You wanted to snap at her, to tell her it wasn’t the same thing at all, but… wasn’t it?

“Well,” you said, your voice faltering a little, your conviction a little less absolute. “It’s not the same,” you insisted. “It’s a painful memory for him, and he wouldn’t know how to process it. I wouldn’t want to…”

Your voice trailed off, realising your answer.

The truth— the truth was that you wouldn’t tell him. 

You wouldn’t tell him because you couldn’t bear to see the pain, to see the humanity ripped away again. You wouldn’t be able to look at the way it would twist his beautiful blue eyes and pull him back into the darkness he’d spent so long trying to climb out of. You wouldn’t tell him because you didn’t think you could survive watching him rip himself apart, questioning his very existence, his place in the world.

But was that fair? Could you make that choice for him?

Alex’s voice cut through your spiralling thoughts. “Doesn’t he deserve to know the truth?”

You flinched, feeling the words hit like a punch. 

“It wouldn’t be my place to give it to him,” you said, your tone harsher than you intended— like it was your last line of defence. 

“So you’d be complicit,” Alex said bluntly.

That word stunned you. It froze you in place.

Complicit.

You felt your chest tighten, your breath stopping for a split second. 

Complicit. 

Like Yelena.

The realisation struck you like a punch to the gut. 

Even as you tried to tend to the wounds, you still held a grudge against Yelena for what she’d done, for keeping the truth from you. You hated the way she had looked at you with pity in her eyes. You hated that she’d known all along. You hated that she knew when the truth came out, it would destroy you. 

But now, you realised, if you were in Yelena’s shoes, wouldn’t you have done the exact same thing?

“And how do you think he’d feel if he found out the way you did?” Alex continued quietly.

You swallowed hard, but the lump in your throat wouldn’t go away. 

You didn’t have to imagine it. You already knew— you knew exactly how he’d feel.

He’d feel like the ground had been ripped out from under him, like the air had been stolen from his lungs. He’d feel betrayed. Hurt. 

Like his entire world was a lie.

Just like you had.

You loved Alex— she was your friend— but you hated how exposed you felt, how easily her words broke down the walls you've built around yourself.

“It’s not that simple,” you said, your voice breaking.

“I know,” Alex replied, she put her hand on yours, trying to keep you steady. “But I think… Bucky did what he did out of love. It doesn’t make it right, but it doesn’t make it wrong either. It makes it human.”

“So what?” You almost snapped if not for the stray sob that escaped your mouth. “I’m just supposed to forgive him? Pretend like it’s all okay because he meant well?”

“No,” Alex said firmly. “You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to hurt.” She paused, her eyes holding yours. “But ask yourself this: what’s holding on to this anger costing you?”

You knew exactly what it cost you: it cost you your happiness, and his.

—

When you stepped into your apartment, you saw him.

Bucky stood in the kitchen, his back turned to you, shoulders tense he moved around the stove. The soft clatter of utensils and the low hiss of simmering liquor on the burner made your apartment feel like him. 

The scent was rich, warm, and familiar. It was your favourite dish. 

On the table nearby, your clear vase was now home to a bouquet of flowers, your favourite flowers— the ones he always teased you about loving because they never lasted long. You’d playfully huff, telling him it bloomed so beautifully in the short time it had lived. 

They were arranged with painstaking care—one you knew Bucky was capable of. The petals were flawless, the colours vibrant, as if he’d combed through hundreds of blooms to find the most perfect ones.  

“Hey,” he said softly. He turned to face you, his movements careful, as if afraid to shatter the fragile truce between you. 

When his eyes found yours, a tentative smile curved his lips. His voice was different— gentle, stripped of the defensive edge you had expected.

Your breath hitched.

You’d imagined this moment countless times while you were laying in the hospital bed. 

In some versions, your fury took centre stage, unleashed on him like a storm. In others, the anger had dulled, leaving only an all- consuming sadness, refusing to acknowledge he existed all together. 

You had breached for him to plead, to beg. But this? This peace, this tenderness—it wasn’t what you’d prepared for. 

“Hi,” you managed to say, your voice barely more than a whisper. It felt heavy, like the first crack in a dam threatening to spill. You closed the door behind you, and walked to the dinner table, sitting down before your knees gave out.

Bucky turned back to the stove, setting the spoon down, giving himself a moment to gather his thoughts. He wiped his hands on a towel before walking over to the table. 

His movements were careful, like a man walking a tightrope. “I didn’t want you to come back to… an empty home. Not again,” he murmured, his hand raking through his hair, as it always did when he was anxious. “So I thought I’d, uh, take care of the place. Until you came back. If you came back.”

You stared at him, then at his careful effort he’d put into making the apartment feel welcoming. After all this time, your home didn’t feel yours anymore— not entirely.. It felt like it belonged to both of you. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” you said finally, your voice trembling. 

“I know,” he said, his voice barely holding steady. His eyes met yours, and for the first time since the hospital, there was no mask, no shield. No defences raised, no excuses. “But I wanted to.”

The vulnerability in his eyes was an invitation, not a deflection.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he said, breaking the moment as he turned back to the stove.

You nodded, fingers brushing over the soft petals of the flowers. Questions swirled in your mind—so many questions, accusations, words you’d rehearsed over and over. But you didn’t say any of them. Instead, you let him take care of you as you once did— you let him finish dinner.  

When he finally brought the plates over, he sat across from you, his hands resting on his knees like he was bracing for impact. You stared at the food, then at him.

“Thank you,” you said. Picking up your fork felt… comforting. It felt like home.

“I can go,” he said suddenly, almost panicked. “I’ll do the dishes and leave.”

“No,” you said quickly, the word surprising even yourself. Your chest tightened as you recalled your conversation with Alex, her reminder that he was human, a reminder that healing could only start if you accepted that he could make mistakes. You set your fork down and met his eyes. “I’m ready to talk.”

Bucky hesitated, his fingers tracing anxious patterns along the table. His muscles tightened, his eyes fixed downward as if the weight of what he was about to say could shatter everything between you. “I don’t… I don’t know where to start.”

You swallowed, the lump forming in your throat. You forced yourself to breathe through it. 

The thought of finally hearing him out was terrifying, but you knew you owed it to yourself. “I don’t care where you start,” you said gently.

His hand stilled in a grip that held the table’s edge a little too tightly. “I know you know I wasn’t always this w-way. This perfect person you’ve known these past few months… I’ve always wanted to be him, for you.”

His words hit you like a wave, the sincerity pulling at your heartstrings. 

“I never needed you to be perfect, Bucky,” you said, the tremble in your tone almost taking over, “I just needed you to be honest.”

He lifted his gaze then, his eyes clouded with regret, pain, and mostly— shame. “How could I?” He murmured, his voice cracking, “For so long, I thought I was protecting you by keeping parts of myself locked away. By being… distant. I thought that if I didn’t let you get too close, you’d be better off. Safer. I didn’t… I didn’t know how t-to justify this change.”

“But why?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. “Why did you think I couldn’t handle it? Why didn’t you trust me enough to let me in?”

He flinched at your tone, his shoulders dropping as if the question had drained him. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking before answering. “Because I didn’t think I deserved you.” He looked at you then, his eyes so full of pain. “I told myself you deserved someone whole, someone who wasn’t… broken. And I thought that if I kept my distance, you would hate me. But you didn’t. Not until… not until now.”

But he was wrong. You didn’t hate him— you never could. You hated that he lied, But him? No, you could never bring yourself to hate him.

“So you pushed me away,” you said quietly, a confirmation of what you knew all along.

He nodded, lI thought I could keep my distance and pretend like it was for the best. But every time I was around you, I felt this… like I couldn’t breathe.”

There it was again. 

He couldn’t breathe around you, he admitted time and again. But not because he hated you. Not because he found your presence suffocating.

It was because you were so damn precious to him that the very thought of sharing the same air as you felt like a privilege he hadn’t earned.

“Instead of facing it,” he continued, “I built a wall around myself.”

Today, his words weren’t excuses; they were admissions. Every letter felt like it cost him a piece of himself.

“I know I hurt you,” he said, his voice breaking. “And I know I can’t undo that. But when you lost your memory… I don’t know. It felt like I had this chance to—to start over. To be the man you deserved. To show you the kind of love I’ve always wanted to give you.”

You blinked back tears. It was like piecing together the puzzle of your past, one fragment of pain at a time. “But you didn’t think to tell me?” you asked, “You didn’t think I deserved to know?”

A pang guilt crossed his face, his mouth falling into a frown. “I should have,” he admitted, “I should’ve told you everything from the start. But I was so scared that if you knew, you’d see the worst of me. That you’d hate me for it. And losing you… I couldn’t handle... couldn’t think….”

You wanted to yell at him, to tell him how much his silence had hurt you, how it had made you question everything. But you also understood, in a way that only love could explain. Alex’s little thought experiment made you connect to his fear— the paralysing fear of losing that meant so much to you. 

“I’m not going to pretend this doesn’t hurt,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears welling in your eyes. “I can’t go back to the way things were before, Bucky. No more lies, no more walls. If we’re going to try this— I need to know all of you. The good, the bad, the broken. All of it.”

His eyes widened.

A second chance—after everything he’d hidden from you? 

It seemed impossible— yet here you were, offering it to him.

He hesitated, then reached for your hand, still not believing that he deserved your touch.

When his trembling fingers brushed against yours, you didn’t pull away. Instead, you turned your hand, weaving your fingers through his.

“I promise,” he said, “I’ll be better. I’ll be honest. No more walls, no more hiding.”

His fingers tightened around yours, afraid you might still let go, afraid you might change your mind. 

But you held on, your grip firm “I don’t need you to be perfect,” you repeated. “I just need you to be honest. I need you to let me in.”

His breath faltered, and for a moment, he looked at you like you were the only thing that could keep him tethered to this earth. “I’ll let you in,” his voice broke. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that you made the right choice.”

As you sat there holding his hand, you felt the presence of something stronger than fear—hope.

“Can I kiss you?” He finally asked

Your heartbeat quickened, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his request. 

For a moment, you saw it—the life you both wanted, the way it could feel so right, so safe, in his arms. And yet, the cracks of what you’d been through together were still there. The answer that rose within you wasn’t what you’d expected, but it was clear.

“No.”

The word left your lips gently, but firmly. His thumb froze against your skin, his body tensing. The faintest flicker of hurt crossed his eyes. 

He opened his mouth to apologise, but before he could, you interrupted him.

“I’m not saying no forever,” you said, “But I want to take things slow. I need to trust that this—whatever we’re building now—isn’t just us rushing to cover up the hurt. I need to know it’s real.”

For a moment, he just looked at you. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed. A small, almost shy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “We’ll go as slow as you need,” he said.

He leaned back slightly, letting his fingers slip from yours.

There was no more resentment, no bitterness— only understanding. 

The two of you continued eating in silence, exchanging glances that lingered just a little longer than usual, small, subtle smiles that promised a fragile piece. Each moment felt like a step forward, like a rebuilding of trust, brick by brick, piece by piece.

When the meal was over, he stood to clear the dishes. As he walked past your chair, he paused. His fingers brushed against your shoulder, a fleeting touch. It wasn’t possessive or pleading anymore. Instead, it was a quiet reminder. I’m here. I’m staying. I’m not going to hide anymore.

And for the first time, you truly believed him. Not because he’d said the right thing, not because he was perfect. But because he was trying. 

Because he was human, and he finally saw himself that way. 

-To be continued…

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[hlficlibrary]

✤ Slow Burn ✤

A series of posts with the top five fics of each category by kudos plus five more hidden gems from that category! Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.

- Top 5 H/L Fics -

1️⃣ Tired Tired Sea by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics {M, 113k}

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

2️⃣ got the sunshine on my shoulders by @hattalove {E, 124k}

five years ago, harry styles left his tiny home town to make it big as a recording artist. he didn't have much regard for what he left behind - a life, a family, and a husband, who woke up one morning to find him gone.

now, harry has everything he could possibly want: he's rich, famous, and adored by everyone he meets, including his boyfriend. but when said boyfriend proposes to him, he's forced to face the uncomfortable facts of his past - and louis, who's spent the last five years returning every set of divorce papers harry sent him.

(or, an au based on the movie sweet home alabama.)

3️⃣ Collision by itjustkindahappened / @tequiladimples {E, 226k}

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

4️⃣ Flightless Bird by audreyhheart {E, 97k}

AU where Louis Tomlinson is a principal dancer with The Royal Ballet. When his rival from ballet school, moody dance prodigy Harry Styles joins the company, old wounds are reopened and old passions reignited. During the company's production of Swan Lake the secret that doomed their love is finally revealed, but will it be too late?

5️⃣ Shake Me Down by @agreatperhaps12 {NR, 208k}

Harry's new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.

HIDDEN GEMS:

💎 This Multiplicity of Powers by @helloamhere {E, 149k}

Maybe in another universe he isn’t different. Maybe he hadn’t been given an impossible choice. Maybe he wouldn’t have lost everything and broken everything and then fallen impossibly, irrevocably in love with the first next thing that was kind. Maybe in that universe he doesn’t feel like he’s never breathing, always pretending, teaching the kids even though they all have to learn alone, trying hard not to read the headlines, and so afraid, every day, that he won’t be a good enough teammate to the superhero he can’t live without. He knows that love isn’t supposed to feel this way, slid secret under your skin like a surgical razor, an invisible war held close over the tender vein that keeps you alive. On the other hand, Louis wonders, had he ever known how to do it any other way?

Maybe there’s a universe where he doesn’t have to keep all his secrets on the inside.

But this isn’t that universe.

//an X-Men AU.

💎 ghost of you by beckywritesthings / @beckydoesthings {E, 109k}

As a rule, Mandalorians and Jedi do not get along.

So when Harry Styles, esteemed Jedi Knight, finds out he has to work with the hot-tempered Mandalorian Duke, Louis Tomlinson, he’s prepared for it to go poorly. But it doesn’t, testing both of their boundaries of what they deem acceptable for a partnership.

It’s the start of something, and as the galaxy dissolves into war, they find themselves clinging to each other, even as it drags up things better left in the past. As it turns out, nothing between them has changed.

Or, a Star Wars AU where Harry is Obi-Wan, Louis is Satine, and somehow there’s a love story between the cracks where there shouldn’t be.

💎 don't be afraid to love (and love again) by localopa / @voulezloux {T, 83k}

All Louis’ life, he’s known he’s been different. There’s always been something at odds about how he felt.

As the eldest daughter of seven kids, he knew something was wrong with his body. Something was off, he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. His mum dressed him in dresses and tights, plaits in his hair as he wandered around with the local neighborhood boys. They called him a girl, called him she and Rosemary when his name is Louis. He had told the boys as such, but they would tell him Louis is a boy’s name, not a girl’s.

Louis is a boy. He knows he is.

or the one where louis is trans and afraid, harry is cis and brave, and being 100% yourself is easier said than done.

💎 Gemma's Dad (Could Use A Guy Like Me) by @lululawrence {NR, 83k}

The summer before Louis and Gemma's senior year of college was supposed to be their last big hurrah before they graduate college and become Real Adults in the workforce. They had it all planned and it was going to be filled with mornings skateboarding, afternoons at the pool, and evenings hanging out with as many of the neighborhood kids they grew up with as they can.

Of course, Louis wasn't planning on getting home and learning that Gemma's dad had gotten the house in the divorce and was dealing with things by focusing on work, the house, and his newly planted garden. It becomes obvious early on that Harry is a bit lost and Gemma is worried about him. To help both of them, Louis is more than happy to help Harry find himself again.

As the summer goes on, the adventures and day to day happenings allow Harry and Louis to spend a lot more time together than either of them ever anticipated and Louis finds it more difficult to keep his growing feelings in check than he ever thought it would be. After all, there wasn't a chance that Harry would ever be interested in Louis... right?

💎 When the Lights Go Out by thelarenttrap / @antidotetogo {E, 79k}

“Louis, what do you have to say about how last week ended?” the reporter asks. There’s a moment of silence. Harry is looking at the reporter, but eventually gives in and looks down the table at Louis. He’s looking straight ahead, as if Harry isn’t even in the room. “If you can’t take the heat, then get out of the kitchen.” Harry leans forwards, placing his arms on the table and leaning onto them to get as close to his microphone as he can while looking at Louis. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Louis turns to him, his icy blue eyes meeting Harry's. “Driving is your fuckin’ job, act like it.”

In its near eighty years of existence, Formula 1 has never had an out gay driver. In 2017, Harry Styles signs a contract with Scuderia AlphaTauri alongside his childhood friend and competitor, Louis Tomlinson. The next decade of their careers is some of the most tumultuous press--on and off the track--Formula 1 has ever seen.

aka the one where Louis and Harry are childhood friends to enemies to lovers over the course of 15 ish years.

[dr-flipflops]

OOC: Will's Lonely 18th Birthday people, as per Cresent's request. - @permetutotheworld @the-eclipse-is-in-me @fukurouonthesea Here we go :) Its sooooooo long, I got so bloody carried away, sorry guys.

*Will left another tray in front of Nico's door, a yellow sticky note on the side*

(what the note said is in italics)

*I hope you've been eating all the food I'm giving you Neeks. Ew- I'm 18 today, EW!!! I'm oooooold :( . I don't have to be a functional adult now do I? Surely, I get a pass for being neurodivergent. I hope you have a nice day INSIDE, please come out. I miss you*

*It had been a week, and Nico was still holed up in the cabin. Will had been denied access, but he'd seen Cresent and Noa go in just fine, heck even CLARISSE gained entrance. It broke something inside Will, but he shrugged it off. They were his family, of course he'd let them in. Will was just an inconvenience he had to put up with, and take care of. He'd known Clarisse for years, Cresent was his sister, and Noa was like his little brother*

*Its fine Solace, come on. Its your birthday. Cheer up. Its fine. Everything's okay.*

*Will's siblings had given him a lovely morning, and the campers who remembered and were the ones who still looked him in the eye had wished him at breakfast. It was nice. But it wasn't the same. Chiron had given him the full day empty, but he had no-one to celebrate with. His siblings all had duties, and they refused to let him work on his birthday. Everyone else was busy too. Will would usually go back to Texas for the week to be with his mother, but with Nico holed up he wanted to stay here*

*Besides, it wasn't like he wanted to celebrate it anyways. The only thing good about it was that he was another year closer to the grave. He didn't know what to do, he wished he could work, that way at least he wouldn't feel so lonely and useless. At least healing gave him a purpose and he felt good after saving someone. At least he'd feel something*

*Will lazily walked through the woods, kicking his feet, cupcake with candle in hand. He made it to his special spot on the coast, where he had the shade of the trees, and a view of the sparkling lake, but could still bask in the sun's rays without it bothering his eyes, not that it had ever in the first place. Wind whistled past, and birds sang, the sun shone golden rays that illuminated the rocks, slick with crashing waves*

*The day was undoubted perfect. Will knew it was curtesy of his father, his way of saying "happy birthday". Will was grateful, but he didn't really feel it*

*The candle glowed bright, Will cupped the cupcake in his hands and held it close*

Happy Birthday to me, happy birthday to meee.

*Will blew it out gently, and wished that today would be the day Nico would come out, even if it was to just say a simple hello. Tears stung his eyes and he laughed a little*

Guess I'm an adult now. huh. Never thought I'd get here.

*Will leaned back against the rock behind his perch, face tilted up as one or two tears down*

But you always knew, didn't you Lee? You said I'd make it Micheal, you were right it seems.

*Tears choked his throat, he looked up at the trees shadowing him above, and the sun softly shining through the canopies. It was like they were here, he could almost hear their voice. Almost feel the laughter of the younger ones. Gracie would've loved to meet Fay*

I wish you were here. I wish you all were.

*Something shimmer past his head and he looks to see his mother's smiling face*

*Will jolts upright*

MA!!?

Naomi: Hi Billy!!! Aw, my little William has grown up so much, 18 now! I thought you were coming home for your birthday?

Will: You-you remembered?

Naomi: no, I just happened to throw a drachma into the lake on accide- OF COURSE I REMEMBERED WILLY!!! You're my favourite son, I can't believe expect so little of your mother.

Will: Ma, I'm your only son.

Naomi: Even better! No competition. Anyways, how come you aren't home?

Will: Sorry Ma, things happened, and I got caught up in camp.

Naomi: Aw, I wanna see my son! You're officially an adult!

Will *small laugh*: Still can't drink though.

Naomi: You can drink water.

Will *groans*: Maaaaa

Naomi: Oh pish posh. Those Americanos *tuts* we're Spanish William, they don't have to know *winks*

Will *laughs fully for the first time all day*: Maaa!

Naomi *grumbles about Americans, then gives Will a stern look* : You better come home for Christmas William Andrew Solace, and you can tell that Chiron of yours to stick it where the sun don't shine if he says otherwise

Will *laughs again*: Alright, alright ma!!!

Naomi *smiles*: Seriously. Oh look at you my sweet boy. When you were taken from me, you couldn't even tie your laces, now you're 18, all grown up. *sighs*

Will: I'm still your little boy Ma, always

Naomi: Damn right you are! Don't you change a bit Billy. You've got a big heart, you dare lose it and your Abuelo will roll in the grave, and your Abuela will storm over from Spain

Will: Don't worry! I won't :) Even if the reason is my fear of Abuela's ladle.

Naomi: That woman, when she has her hands on a cooking utensil, y'all better run away or run towards the table ready to be stuffed like a Christmas hog.

Will: Yeah.

Naomi: Well, you're only 18 once Willy, I hope you have a good day!

Will *tight smile, hiding the loneliness*: Yep, terrific, look! I got the cupcakes you sent me!!!

Naomi: Aw, *someone gestures off-screen* uh huh, *back to Will* Billy, I'm so sorry, but I'm gonna have to go, there's something wrong with the sound systems, I'm so sorry. I want to talk to you more, after all, my baby is only gonna turn 18 once, its a special day! *bites lip and looks conflicted*

Will *his heart breaks. He was gonna be alone again. He makes a smile*: Its alright Ma, I've got a cupcake to eat after all! *huffs a laugh*

Naomi *blows him a kiss*: Love ya Willy! Happy birthday sweetheart.

Will: Bye-

*Naomi cuts the message*

-Ma.

*Will swallows. He was alone again. His mother had more important things to do, OF COURSE SHE DID SOLACE, SHE HAS A LIFE, grow up Will. Will took the burnt out yellow candle from the cake, and bites into it*

*It tasted like home. Tears brimmed on Will's eyes and warm memories flooded his brain at the chocolate melting in his mouth*

*Memories of Spain- the brightly coloured streamers everyone would hang around. Abuela would be cooking a feast in the kitchen , so Will would wake up to the scents of heaven filling the house and smooches from Ma. He'd bound down the stairs and promptly be told that even though it was his birthday he still had to brush his teeth. Will would get it done as fast as possible, then go and help Ma bake cookies and cupcakes. He'd go outside and immediately be pelted with shouts and cries, hugs and noogies from the neighbourhood kids. Then, after being fed like a king, at night, the family would gather and Will would blow out the candles, and cut the cake to find the clue at the center*

*He'd use the clue to find others to find his gifts, which only then he'd be able to open. The whole procedure from the candles, to the singing, to the cake, to the hunt, to the opening would be filmed. Will's beaming face photographed on his birthday every year*

*Will finished the cupcake, and found a note in the centre. Hollowness that had filled his heart swelled. It was a little heart with a smile, and a "happy birthday Billy". Will smiled through the tears, and he was almost home in Texas with his Ma. But he looked up and the empty lonely came back. He smiled a bit through the tears. At least his Ma had sent him these. Will knew he was going to find other notes in the other cupcakes, he turned the paper over and found another message: "Brush ya teeth Billy"*

*Will laughed, and no one heard*

-----

*That night, Will came back late, his siblings already fast asleep*

*He felt vacant again*

*Nico had decidedly NOT come out. He didn't see Aria's smile all day, and Noa never even said hi. Cresent, as per usual, avoided him*

*Will collapsed into bed, and curled up. Emotionally exhausted*

*He missed home. He missed his Ma. He mourned his life. He mourned the Will Solace he used to be, the one everyone sees, the one everyone wants. Campers look at him, but its not him they see, they see the Will they knew, the Will he'll never live up- hell he doesn't even remember the memories, HE DOESN'T KNOW THAT WILL. He missed Nico. He missed being loved. He missed so much. He hated this overwhelming, all consuming loneliness. It's like his life has been reset, and everyone is treading on eggshells, and he was deserted by those he loved most all over again*

*For his "special day" he sure as hell didn't feel it- DON'T BE SELFISH SOLACE. he felt nothing at all, and while that may be a blessing some days, today he hated it. Hated himself. Hated living*

*When he had gone to pick up Nico's tray he saw that Nico hadn't taken the note. He always took the note. Will didn't bother placing another one with the next tray*

*Something consumed him*

*That night, Will cried himself to sleep*

[nonerrata-myarchives]

HEYYYYYY

can i req a lyrason fanfic?

pretty pleaseeeeeeee

Grayson and Lyra. ♡ One Shot.

Bedfic. Ummm. 1173 words.. shit.

The room was bathed softly in the early morning light, streaks of pale gold and sovereign blue spilling through the half-drawn lavish curtains. Outside, the world stirred awake, a faint hum of life whispering through the silence, but inside, it was warm and still. The sheets were tangled, the duvet half-kicked away, evidence of a restless night. Lyra Catalina Kane blinked herself awake, the weight of exhaustion settling into her already tired bones.

Grayson lay beside her, his face pale except for the feverish flush high on his cheeks. Even in sickness, he carried an air of unshakable perfection though the deep blooming plum beneath his eyes told a different story. She reached out instinctively, her hand brushing his damp forehead. Still hot. Way too fucking hot. He still hadn’t shaken the fever that had gripped him yesterday, and now it was spilling into today like a deep brooding thunder refusing to go.

She sighed, quietly, carefully, and shifted to slide out of bed. There was too much to do.

The world didn’t stop for anything, not even for Grayson Davenport Hawthorne. But the moment she moved, his arm tightened around her waist like a vice. Unwilling and utterly unyielding.

“Grayson,” she murmured softly, her voice still rough with sleep. She twisted to glance back at him, but his eyes were shut, his brow furrowed as if even in his fevered haze, he was waging some internal war. His lips moved, words too faint to catch, but even so he buried his face in her neck, his breath warm and uneven against her skin.

“Don’t sweetheart,” he rasped, the word dragging out of him like it cost more than it should. His voice was hoarse, cracked, stripped of its usual authority, and hearing it made something sharp twist in Lyra’s chest.

“Grayson,” she tried again, gently, this time reaching for his hand where it clung to her hip. But he didn’t let go. If anything, he held her tighter, his rough fingers digging into the soft fabric of her shirt like a drowning man clutching at the only thing keeping him afloat.

“Don’t go,” he mumbled into her neck. His voice was low, desperate, and foreign in its vulnerability. Grayson Hawthorne never asked. He commanded, he directed, he ensured things happened exactly as they were meant to. But this wasn’t that man.

Her heart cracked open, a slow ache spreading through her chest. “Gray,” she whispered, turning fully to face him now, her body shifting under his unrelenting hold. His eyes flickered open, heavy-lidded and glassy, the stormy gray of them dulled but still searching, still fixed entirely on her.

“Stay,” he said, barely audible. His voice cracked at the end, and the sound of it nearly broke her. “Just please just stay.”

Lyra exhaled, her resistance crumbling in an instant. “I’m not going far,” she promised, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. His skin was still so damn warm. but he leaned into her touch as though it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

“You’ll leave,” he murmured, his breath catching on the last word. His arm tightened again, pulling her somewhat impossibly closer, until she was pressed against him completely, her legs tangled with his. “You’ll leave, and I—” He broke off, his face pressing into the crook of her neck like he couldn't nor wanted to finish that sentence. As if it would break him.

She had never seen him like this. In the thee years she had known the asshole she had never seen him so fucking desperate.

Lyra let out a slow breath, her hand slipping into his damp hair, fingers threading through the thick mess. “I’m here,” she said softly, the words barely more than a whisper. “I’m not going anywhere, Gray.”

For a long moment, neither of them moved. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart against her. He had held her so tight she couldn't move. Grayson Davenport Hawthorne, the arrogant asshole was undone. Though right now he was just Gray, her Gray, and he needed her. And she wouldn't leave

“Lyra,” he breathed, her name a soft exhale against her neck. His voice was weaker now, but there was a reverence in the way he said it, a quiet plea wrapped in too much emotion. “I can’t—” He stopped again, the words choking off.

“You don’t have to,” she said, her hand sliding down to his back, holding him as close as he held her. “You don’t have to say anything.” She kissed the top of his head, her lips brushing against the damp strands of his hair. It smelled like foreign berries “I’m here.”

He shuddered, a shaky exhale escaping him as he buried himself deeper against her. For all his strength, all his unrelenting willpower, he melted into her like he couldn’t stand to be anywhere else. His fingers splayed against her side, anchoring him to her, and she felt the faintest tremor in his grip.

“Fuck being busy,” he muttered, the words muffled but laced with a quiet, fevered determination. His hand slid up to her back, his fingertips pressing into her as though to make sure she was real, that she wasn’t going to slip away the moment he loosened his hold. “Just stay, sweetheart. Please.”

“I’ll stay,” she whispered, her voice thick with the weight of her own emotions. “I’m not going anywhere, Gray. I promise.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, she thought he might cry, but he just held her tighter, his face pressed against her neck. “Good,” he murmured, his voice cracking again. A different type of crack though.. one that meant something.

Minutes stretched into eternity as they lay there, tangled together in the warmth of their bed. The world outside could wait. The demands, the responsibilities, the endless push and pull of their lives—it could all wait. He needed her.

She stroked his hair more her fingers moving in slow, delicate patterns, and felt the tension in his body gradually ease. His breathing evened out, though it was still slightly labored, and she pressed another kiss to his head, murmuring soft reassurances into the quiet.

“I love you,” she said, the words soft but steady. She didn’t expect him to answer—he was too far gone, too fever-drunk and exhausted—but his arm tightened around her once more, and she felt his lips brush faintly against her collarbone.

“Love you,” he mumbled, the words slurred but heartfelt, and Lyra’s heart thumbed, the ache in her chest giving way to something warmer, something brighter. Something so exquisite she couldn't put words on it.

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

Not proof read. I'll edit just now.. I'm sorry it's shit y'all.

[afreakingdork]

I saw you were doing small requests if we proved we voted for Hassan/Mikey, so here's my proof! I was wondering if you could do something with Leo, since we don't see nearly enough Leo x readers out there. I was thinking maybe a best-friends to lovers thing where they keep trying to one up each other with playful flirtation, but it becomes real in the end, followed by a confession and a kiss? Xxx

Writing Request: Reader x Leo First Kiss 😘

Thank you kindly for doing your part! I hope you're enjoying all the content and please tell your friends! Let's push back in this comp!

From now until the poll closes, if you can prove to me that you voted Hassan/Mikey in this poll then I will do any short story writing request like the one below or draw you any doodle of your choosing!

ᴰᶦˢᶜˡᵃᶦᵐᵉʳ: ᴵ ᵃᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵃⁿʸʷᵃʸ ᵃˢˢ���ᶜᶦᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵒʳ ᵉⁿᵈᵒʳˢᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵉᵗᶦᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᵒʳ ᶦᵗˢ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˢ.

We got some cutie all ages fluff down here, folks!

"And that's when you go in for the kiss!"

Leo had a fist to his lip's and nodded as if this conversation was of the utmost importance.

The random man in question who had approached you while you were hanging out with your best friend was none the wiser. You weren't sure where he had come from, but had interjected himself into your conversation without warning. He had some ripe opinions on romance that apparently couldn't wait for people he knew. Instead of running, Leo had been prompting him for the sake of it and sending you more and more exaggerated looks each time the man looked away.

"What about consent?" Leo asked.

The man reared for a moment before he thought which part. "At which part? We haven't gotten past first base."

"You gotta ask if you're going to kiss someone." Leo spoke with a firmness that you read as genuine.

"The mood!"

"Don't start." Leo shook his head.

"It ruins the mood." The man insisted.

"It does not." Leo waved him off for the first time.

"It does! You think your lady friend is going to still wanna smooch after you interrupt leaning in to ask permission!? That's not manly!"

"Manly, huh?" Leo's mask quirked with his brow. "Also, just lady friends?"

He glanced at you.

You chewed your lip and glanced away to not laugh.

"Ah, man friend, lady friend. Whatever friend! It doesn't matter!" The man huffed. "It's all the same in the eyes of love."

"Consent is hot, that's all I'm saying." Leo shrugged.

"Ah!" The man grunted and turned. "You don't get it! Oh! I bet they do!"

You both watched as the man jogged off at the next unsuspecting group of people.

"Well then!" Leo put his hands on his hips. "I never!"

He held the haughty pose until a giggle finally broke free from you and he slumped to your side.

"That was something." You told him.

"You know I really like conversations like that." Leo stuck a leg out to walk.

You followed his lead with solider-like attention. "Yeah? Seemed a bit like you were teasing him."

"Me!?" He gaped sarcastically at you before his features went lackadaisical. "Making something a gag is second nature. I really do I swear."

You thought for moment. "Okay... Why?"

"Why?" He digested the question and looked up at the buildings. "Let's see. People are interesting. They've got all these opinions and they're wild! Everyone is so different and they'll try to ask these questions about you, but they don't really want to know, but I do. Like I already know me; I want to know about them!"

It gave you pause and you thought back. In all the time you had known Leo, he had been like that. If you ever asked him something as simple as his favorite color, he would somehow turn the conversation around on you until you were matching shades in some sun room that you were going to retire in.

He made you feel like the center of the world and you loved him for it. He was bright and whip smart, but he also had an undeniable loneliness. He never let it get to him, but it made you want to get closer. You pushed to get his number after meeting him. You made sure to text him if a little too much time had gone by. You made future plans with him always included.

You became the best of friends before you even knew it.

Leo said yes to pretty much everything, even when his schedule was packed. it was his eagerness of companionship and just that he was generally a good friend, even if you found yourself mortified around him often. His wit and penchant for a bit meant that if you said the slightest thing wrong that he would hone in on it. It was further sharpened to a knife having had three brothers and because of it you had built a repertoire of inside jokes.

He was special and even just taking a walk with him on a day like today would be a highlight of your week.

"I see it." You eventually said.

"What'dyou think?"

"About what?" You glanced at him and the way the sunlight played on his barely shielded green skin.

"His pitch! That love guru's plan of attack. How to woo your lady, not lady friend."

A smile played on your lips. "Set the mood. Sure, that's good, but when's a mood, right? That's always a question."

"Exacty!" Leo threw a demonstrating hand to you. "Like is it being alone. We're alone right now?"

"Not really a mood?" You looked around.

"Should it be dark? They say those steak houses have romantic lightening when you can't even tell which fork your grabbing."

You laughed knowing what he'd say next.

"I'm telling you!" He pressed with the same knowledge. "They do it so they can give you lower cuts! That's why I always bust out the ole phone flashlight!"

"They do not!"

"I swear I ordered a rib eye but they served me flank. Flank!"

"The horror!"

"But yeah, okay so not the lights."

"Because I totally confirmed that."

"Okay, come here then."

You did so without hesitation.

"Okay, let me just..." He reached behind him to tug his hoodie off.

You watched on.

His chin caught. "Hold on." He squirmed to pull one arm through. "Hold!" It got trapped against the points of his plastron. "Wait, Wait!" His head disappeared down into the hole and you watched the blue fabric writhe.

There was no way he could see you, but when your hand came up to help he immediately scolded.

"Don't you dare! I've got this!"

You weren't sure if it was a bit or not, but that was Leo and he was nothing if not amusing.

"I got it!" In one hands to the ceiling move, his hoodie came off. "Check it!"

He flexed in his average looking t-shirt. "Very attractive."

"Thank you!" He told you with a point of his beak. "Alright, now cloud cover..."

He waved you over to a wall and you followed.

He looked you over a few times before he caged you in so he could hold the hoodie above both of you to block the light.

You stared at his red stripes in their proximity.

"Dark, how are we feeling?"

"Not really a mood."

"It's not a mood!" He cracked a grin. "We're already at the next factor."

"Oh?"

"Closeness. He said that thing about how both people realize they're a little too close and kissing is inevitable."

"Cause if that was true we would have kissed a bunch of times."

"Right?!" Leo clucked. "The Twister incident? That time I hit you with that little trashcan. Oh, oh! When you were demonstrating the banana thing and actually fell."

"That middle one..." You narrowed your eyes.

"An accident, I swear." He looked dire.

"I still think the banana was cause of the floor."

"Sure." Leo drew out the word.

You pinched the tail end of one of his stripes which also happened to be his cheeks.

He smiled all the more. "Alright then. Is that it? We've eliminated everything. Total bunk. That guy doesn't knowing a thing about romance."

"Yeah! Moods? Like what even is that?"

"Like cuddling on the couch?" Leo gagged.

"Running through the rain?" You added.

"Yeah, because I totally want to make out when I'm soggy!" His eyes rolled.

"Your clothes stick together!"

"You have to peel apart!" He shuddered and the hoodie shook as your umbrella.

You reached up on instinct to steady it right as one of the sleeves fell.

"Nice catch."

"Call me champ."

"No, I'm champ."

"You're champion."

"Your champion?" His mask waggled with his brow ridge.

"You can't count that! It was a bet."

"Oh yeah, what was last week when I got you that ice cream?"

"I was trying to be nice to you."

"Only trying?"

"You make it so easy."

"I do. I'm a great guy. Amazing friend. Easy on the eyes."

"The face of disaster. Person I would vote least likely to make a typo in front of because he will never let you live it down."

"I give you my life and my time!" He bemoaned.

"And I appreciate it."

He gave you his best puppy dog eyes. "Do you? You're just saying that. You totally said you were just saying that."

"No, you're the light of my life."

"In that voice? Maybe I'm the light from one of those nightlights that are automatic, like the kind that turn off as soon as you turn the real lights on."

You squared yourself and looked straight into his eyes.

He startled and gave you owlish attention.

"Leonardo Hamato. You are the most important thing to me. You appeared in my life and I made sure you were part of it and at some point you became someone I can't live without."

"Oh." The vowel popped out dull.

You were flooded with a wave of worry.

Had that been too much?

It was true.

You cared about Leo.

He made you laugh.

He made you smile.

He made you a priority.

You did the same with him.

It must have been all the romance talk.

He might have misconstrued the whole thing.

Certainly none of that meant anything more.

With the steam still trapped in your cheeks you met his eye.

He was staring the same intensity.

You shared it a little coy before you decided to face it head on.

You set your jaw and returned the full brunt of your certainty in the matter.

He blinked a single time. "Wanna make out?"

Your eyes went as wide as they could.

"Wait, that came out wrong!"

"Are you kidding me!?" You squawked.

"I said it was wrong! Let me-!"

"That's your idea of consent?!" You tugged the hoodie down.

Since he had his own hold on the fabric it pulled his arm.

Which pulled his shoulder.

Which pulled him closer.

You were inches away. "That guy was right! It does ruin a mood! 'Wanna make out?' Leo, what-?!"

He dropped a little lower and your heart spasmed.

He dipped down so he could look up at you through his lashes.

His gaze liquefied your insides on contact.

He held your gaze for a few calculated moments before he leaned up enough that the heat of his breath warmed your lips.

"I'm sorry. I meant, may I have the pleasure in kissing you?"

You closed the gap.

The hoodie dropped down around you for privacy.

You lost your vision and for a moment it was just you and him.

A tiny version of the world that you didn't mind.

Then, you parted.

Within the confines you heard the smack and felt the way your mouths were both open and ready for another.

"Like..." Leo licked his lips audibly. "Like that. You do it like that."

"If you tell me that was a bit I'm never talking to you again." You whined without an ounce of heat.

"I swear... Kiss on it?"

You tugged him right back to you and he smirked against you.

[thewitchblue]

"I'm curious about something."

Jason asked you one snowy November. You turned away from your computer to face him with a fond smile on your face. You were working on a case for him by researching the deceased and locating their soul to speak to the victim. He approached you and leaned against the desk. You asked,

"What's up, buttercup? What's on your pretty mind?"

You noticed his hand trying to hold yours, but you turn ghostly to prevent him from touching you. You're a grim reaper, one of several scattered throughout different continents, and very dead. Hurt flashes in his eyes, but he asks as casually as possible,

"Is it true about the embrace of death?"

Well, that's a new thought you didn't expect to hear him ask. You blinked in confusion before answering vaguely,

"I'm a Reaper, pretty boy. Consider me one of the Valkyries from Norse mythology; I'm here to guide souls to their specific place. I don't embrace or kiss the souls. Their soul is often already floating around when I get there. That's why some people experience after-death moments with loved ones. Grandma's last kiss, a child holding their mother's hand, parents embracing their newly orphaned children, little things like that."

You weren't sure how to explain your job in a way that makes sense for the living, but you tried. Jason seemed unsatisfied by your answer, so you asked kindly,

"What did you really want to know, my love?"

He frowned at your ghostly hand. Is it really too much to want to touch his partner? He paused and said after a beat of silence,

"I... want to hold your hand and kiss you, but you always pull away. I want to know why."

You gave him a sad look and softly admit,

"I've never touched a living soul since my death. I'm worried what will happen to you if I did touch you."

He grumbled and offered his father as a sacrificial lamb to find out what happens, but you laughed and softly said,

"If you can stomach Bruce being the first man to ever touch me post-mortem, I'll touch him."

You knew that wouldn't be the case. He huffed and pouted, but softly admitted,

"I want to be the first man you ever touch since your death."

You look at him seriously for a moment. You know Jason would drop the topic if you told him no, but part of you wanted to say yes. You weren't sure if you wanted to let this go. You want to hold his hand on a cold winter day and kiss him thousands of times to make up for lost time.

With great hesitation, you touched Jason's arm. He was warm against your timid hand and so muscular. You slowly run your hands along his arms while watching him carefully. You waited to see if he was feeling anything negative. You weren't sure if you felt his life force leaving him or his pulse racing under your hand as you held his wrist in your fingers.

Jason shivered under your light touch. You were freezing cold, but he didn't feel any different than he felt before. You looked in awe that you could touch a living soul without consequences, and he was so smug.

He had a feeling it would be okay to touch you. He thought it was adorable that you wanted to protect him from your ghostly touch, nonetheless. He was only 87% sure he would have been fine. He didn't know if you could turn your power on-and-off like he hoped and now knew was possible.

You hadn't known people could be this warm. You've been dead for so long, you had forgotten. Souls are cold, so you're never warm.

You grin at him and immediate pull him into a kiss. You could kiss him! His soul isn't being pulled out of him! You were ecstatic. Once you started, you found you couldn't stop.

You gave him thousands of kisses as he chuckled. He's never seen you so happy. You held both his hands in your scarred ones.

Your soul shines in happiness, which makes him grin. He loves you and loves the confirmation you loved him, too. Your soul tells him everything you're feeling, and he's never seen you this happy. It's reassuring to see your love for him pulsing throughout your ghostly spirit. It's like you couldn't keep it in.

Your eyes lit up at the new revolution. You were bursting with love and adoration. You tell him as you held his face in your hands,

"These hands are forever yours. You're going to be stuck with me now onwards."

He laughed at the serious tone and kissed your hands with a grin on his face. The lights in your apartment flicker in response to your happiness, but you can't help it. Your powers charge and pulse when you get emotional.

You murmur as you caress his face in your hands,

"I love you."

You run your fingers through his hair while he buries his face in your neck and wraps his arms around you.

"I know, pipsqueak."

He nips your neck playfully, partially surprised you let him. You kiss his forehead and draw him closer with your arms,

"Good. You deserve to know."

[goldenboywrites]

Quin moved to the end of the bed, his feet touched the ground, and he held his head in his hands, pressing his fingers against his pounding temples. He had anticipated Beau telling Cesare, but he hadn’t thought Cesare could contain himself with the knowledge. Why had he held onto it so long? Quin had to poke and prod to get him to admit it. Was he just never going to say anything about it? If Cesare had known this entire time, then he knew when he told his father and Maximus he still planned to marry Quin. But how could he even want to marry him after knowing all this? There were missing parts of Quin, parts of himself that were taken from him. He was ruined. Quin laughed bitterly and desperately, his stomach heaving as his body went against his control of it. He moved to wrap his arms around his stomach, tears brimming as he laughed and laughed and laughed. “I don’t care about what happened between you and Beau in that room.” At one point, he had, but it paled in comparison to Cesare knowing the truth.

He wiped the wetness from his eyes and stood up from the bed. He dragged a fur blanket with him, covering his upper body. Quin leaned against the wall opposite Cesare’s bed, then dragged his gaze up from the floor to meet his. “It’s only fair you know the truth,” He said softly, tilting his head back until he hit the wall. “And yes, I imagine Beau wasn’t kind about it. When I was…” Quintus inhaled, closing his eyes for a moment, “When I outgrew my uncle’s taste, he found Beau to replace me so he could have a younger version of me. Though I suspect Beau was too malleable for his tastes. His favorite thing has always been the fight, and I was too young and weak ever to win.” 

“You know the worst part about it?” Quin kicked off of the wall, cutting the distance between them in half. He stopped at Cesare’s desk, tilting a hip against it. “I thought I could endure it while my father and Maximus were at war. I was alone in that castle with him, and I took it; I swallowed it down because I didn’t have any other choice. I was twelve years old when it first happened. No one was there to help me anyway, but then they came back with you along with them, and I thought, ‘thank gods this is it’. I wouldn’t have to suffer any longer.”

Quin sighed, shaking his head. He slashed his arm across the top of the desk, sending the pitcher of mead and the tray of food crashing to the floor. “I was a fucking fool to think that would make a difference. Having them back in the castle made it worse and made him more determined. I suffered at his hands for years, and no one noticed. I was a child coming to breakfast hungover and limping, and no one noticed. Not my father, not my brother, not you.” He gripped the edge of the desk until his fingers turned white, until they ached as he ached inside for years. “The only thing that stopped him was time, and when he no longer possessed the ability to hunt me in my bed chambers, he went after my parents and then my brother and I.” 

“Beau will never be free, Cesare,” Quin said softly. “Just like I will never be free. He will always hold the pieces he took from us. I know you think you can save us. I know you want to save us, but we will never recover what he took from us. Even if he is dead, there will still be days where having hands on me makes my skin crawl and itch. There will still be nights when I dream of his weight and breath on me, and I wake up sick. His hands have permanently tainted me, and it isn’t something that I come back from.” 

He pulled the blanket tighter around himself, wishing it would swallow him whole. “You deserve someone whole, and I know you won’t do it because you think you owe me something or because you pity me now that you know, but I don’t expect you to go through with marrying me. I wouldn’t if I were you, and to save your reputation with my brother, I will take the heat and call it off so you aren’t the bad guy. Just…” He sucked in a breath, feeling a knot in the center of his throat. “Please don’t tell Max what he did to me. It will kill him, and I can’t… I can’t,” Quin’s breath puffed out between the words, his chest heaving with movement. “I can’t have him know.”

Cesare felt the air around him still and chill in the same stroke. His eyes narrowed on Quin and all the alcohol he'd drank felt as though it evaporated through every pore on his body. In that moment he couldn't understand the man's tone but he felt the rigidiness just the same. He hadn't done anything wrong. Not really. Had Beau confused him for a few moments? Yes. But nothing more had come of that. And once the prince found out who he was and what he was doing, it wasn't difficult to deduce the rest. But clearly Quintus wasn't ready or willing to do that yet and he'd have to explain in a way that didn't seem as though he were trying to defend the other to him. Wasn't he just the one being made to be made?

"I don't think it's difficult to understand that someone in his line of work." He paused, staring pointedly at the other for a moment before he continued. "Don't always receive the best treatment. And knowing the man that was pulling his strings." Which was partly a lie. Cesare didn't know their uncle well. Or, as well as he'd thought he had. In all the years he'd ventured to the castle in Vivec alone and in his father's tow, he'd never had Richard treat him poorly. The odd comment here and there, with more frequency as he'd grown closer to Quin, but never would he have guessed he was a power hungry man, hell bent on dethroning his own nephews at any cost. "I didn't think it was such a jump to assume that some of what has happened with you may also have happened with him." His brow raised and he sighed out, not ready to admit the next part. "Because you do look similiar enough that I imagine whatever he he wanted to say or do to you he often took out on Beau instead when the opportunity didn't present itself with you."

The prince stretched himself out on his bed, leaning back against the headboard. There it is. The soft, fuzzy feeling of the meade found him again and he breathed out slowly. "You've never told me the extent of what happened with ... Richard." He started, crossing his ankles over each other and his hands folded over and laid against his lap. It was hard to hear that name in his own voice. Until that moment he was fairly certain they'd never uttered his name between themselves. But the threat was very real and not using his name made it feel like he was bigger than they, and that simply could never be in Cesare's opinion. "Beau wasn't kind when he said it." He started, his fingers itching to dig into anything to make this less painful to speak about, less painful to watch Quintus' face when he'd finally gotten it out. "But I started putting it together. The way you don't like to be touched and how you're constantly on top of everything and everyone." He gave a slight shake of his head because honestly this did nothing but show just how strong this man on the bed was to him. And should be to everyone. "He only confirmed the missing piece that I'd been guessing at."

Cesare's tongue swiped along his lips to keep them from drying out completely. "Please don't take my kindness towards him as anything but that." He swallowed hard and fought himself on what he was about to say next but he thought better than to hide it. "When I first came upon Beau in what were suppose to be your quarters I couldn't be sure it was you. The room was too dark." The contents of his stomach churned and he felt odd enough to shift his weight. "He shared a kiss or two but nothing more than that." His cheeks instantly flared to the bright redness of coals and he found himself wanting to sink completely into the mattress. "I realized he wasn't you and threatened him within an inch of his life to get me to you and when that didn't work." He sighed and shrugged again. "I just tried to treat him like a person." He paused, seeing the snide comment coming quick but he cut Quin off before it could be made. "He wants to live. Free. Just like you and I. Just like everyone else. I couldn't imagine the sort of life one leads pretending to be someone else. Never having anything that is truly your own." Cesare gave a slight shake of his head and breathed out through his nose. "I just didn't want to be the sort of person that sees someone in a bad position regardless of their own involvement and not do anything to help. I've never been that way and I won't start now." He was firm on that whether Quin liked it or not. He could only hope his honesty didn't cost him everything else in the process.

[24karatcherrygold]

Orion Crestguard’s life was one of honor and duty, serving as a guardian of the United Reef Kingdoms and the legendary Mace of the Tides. Born into one of the kingdom’s great noble families, Orion was a trusted companion to Prince Kettlestein Gray. The two grew up exploring the coral-laden expanses of the kingdom, forging a bond that ran as deep as the oceans they called home.

When Prince Kettlestein was abducted, Orion was devastated, mourning the loss of his friend along with the rest of the kingdom. Years later, when the prince mysteriously returned, the joy was palpable—but Orion couldn’t shake a gnawing unease. The Kettlestein he had known was vibrant and full of life, yet this new prince, though outwardly charismatic, felt artificial, like a puppet performing a well-rehearsed act.

Orion’s suspicions deepened when the Crestguard family awoke one night to find the Mace of the Tides missing. Following the trail of the thief, Orion confronted "Kettlestein" in a secluded part of the palace. Armed with an old training trident, Orion demanded answers. The confrontation quickly turned into a fight, and Orion realized the truth—this was not his prince. The mimic, Zap, fought with unnatural strength and precision. Despite his best efforts, Orion was outmatched, escaping only by sheer willpower and managing to reclaim the mace before fleeing.

Returning to warn the kingdom, Orion was horrified to discover he had been framed. The mimic spun a convincing story, casting Orion as the traitor who had stolen the kingdom’s most precious artifact. Branded a criminal, Orion had no choice but to flee into exile, carrying the Mace of the Tides with him.

Orion’s journey eventually led him to the Skylanders. There, to his shock and relief, he encountered the real Kettlestein, who had escaped Kaos’ clutches and was fighting alongside the heroic defenders of the Skylands. Their reunion was filled with bittersweet joy as the two old friends vowed to restore their kingdom and confront the mimic that threatened to unravel everything they held dear. Orion, armed with the Mace of the Tides and his unwavering loyalty, joined the Skylanders, determined to protect his friend, his kingdom, and the Skylands themselves.

-Written by Gold

Now this was a design I was actually dreading, I suck at drawing crabs. Like I do everything in my power to avoid it.

But hey! Orion doesn't look too bad compared to my earlier attempts. For Wham-Shell (that's who Orion is btw), I wanted to change up his appearance, make him look more like an actual crustacean. And I think I succeeded. I took some inspiration from other crab characters in the Skylander franchise, as well as a cute little photo I found of a crab's mouth... I am now scarred for life, so I hope it was worth it!

Anyways, in actual reference to the story, we wanted to make the Skylands seem a bit less... expansive. (Which doesn't make that much sense in hindsight.)

We wanted to make the world feel more lived in, where characters knew each other and met each other outside of just being Skylanders. Think of how League of Legends writes their characters, how they connect to each other as much as the world around them.

The games and show make the Skylanders seem like they can go anywhere and do whatever they want, but what if they couldn't. What if their were entire civilizations who despised them. Not every problem or mission can be completed with brute strength.

Sometimes you need to take care of things quietly and without notice.

That's what the United Reef Kingdoms serve as. A reminder that not everyone likes what you offer.

Cherri's TLDR: The United Reef Kingdoms are compromised and off limits to the Skylanders.

Anyways, I hope you all have a great day!

With love

-Cherri

[makotonaegiunderstander]

something I’ve been thinking abt is how many people think Makoto is immune to despair. I don’t think he is. I think becoming the ultimate Hope was BECAUSE he felt despair. He wouldn’t have fully reached that point without Junko. Makoto becoming such a beacon was his last attempt to avoid completely falling and it wasn’t because he didn’t feel despair, it was because he was too damn stubborn to allow everything to go to waste and he refused to sacrifice his beliefs for someone else’s. His inner monologue tells me he DID experience the same new low the other suvivors did in the final trial, but at the point where he had the choice to give up and die, he looked at the others and he looked at Junko and he couldn’t allow it to happen, not out of self preservation, but because the idea that Junko would have control over their lives made him FURIOUS. and that utter refusal to die kicked in, wether luck or otherwise, and he made the concious effort for one last push while something in him was breaking. He had to be broken in order for the Ultimate Hope to come through so aggressively, bc it could only exist in the face of the Ultimate Despair. He snapped the same way she did, but in the other direction. In what could have been his final moments he chose to embody everything Junko wasn’t, and every single optimistic and luck fueled ideal in him suddenly charged forward and pushed him. It was a combination of the final straw and a choice. Makoto isn’t immune to feeling despair, he’s just too stubborn to fall into it of his own volition. I think that’s why I like that scene in DR3 so much. People were SO SHOCKED Makoto actually fell for the tape, that he actually became despair for a moment. I saw people getting mad or disappointed, saying it was pathetic and Makoto seemed to fall from some sort of pedestal for them. Honestly part of me wonders if that sort of mentality, which clearly people had in universe, affected Makoto a bit. Like he started to see himself as less of a person, subconsciously. Prompting him to take more risks, less self preservation, act way more bold. It seems he has to be reminded a lot not to put himself in danger by his friends, to not do something too reckless. All over the place I would see in regards to that scene either this frivolous ‘oh this was just angst drama with no meaning behind it’ or ‘he can do better than that. he’s so weak’ or ‘come on, there’s no way he’d fall into despair, he’s the Ultimate Hope!’ This kind of mentality, which was kind of ironic considering Ryota was there the entire time saying the same thing and treating Makoto the same way. Like Makoto was superhuman. Like Makoto didn’t feel despair the same way ‘normal people’ did. In a way that was also how Munakata saw Makoto. Makoto stopped being a PERSON to the world when he became Ultimate Hope, he became a concept, a belief system, much the same way Junko ascended beyond herself. But the difference is that treating Makoto that way is the opposite of the reason Makoto became such a representative for hope. He wasn’t doing something no one else could. He was doing something everyone had the chance to, he just… was a little more optimistic, a little more stubborn, a little more ‘gung-ho’ about things. He just took the lead where no one else did, where no one else knew they even COULD in the face of Junko’s unstoppable force. She had overcome the biggest threats and obstacles in the world, what could one person do? And the answer Makoto found was, anything. Everything. It doesn’t all rest on Makoto, he’s just the one that was inspired to try to do what seemed like the impossible. But as evidenced by the change in his friends after that trial, it’s clearly not something only Makoto is capable of. The others pulled out of despair thanks to Makoto, but it was their choice to do so.

“But… this world is so huge, and we’re so small. What can we do…? No, we can probably do anything. Yeah! We can do anything!”

[waitinqroom]

thinking about when i had a boyfriend but before he was my boyfriend and we were just talking i tried to tell him about how this one girl led me on really badly (i still have a buncha posts on here from fall 2021 about liking her, lol) as friends confiding in friends . but then after i told the story he tried to convince me that she didnt actually lead me on and i was just delusional

[dnangelic]

' huh ?! oh , no --- ! it's not that i don't think you're strong enough to hold him or anything ! ' he sweats , he frets in place ! ' i just --- i-if somehow he did turn into a bother ... ! it'd be wrong to keep you holding him forever ! '

because , especially after asking how to hold him , would sakura have known how to hand him off or put him down ?! there was the idea that wiz might have been heavier in his mind than he really was , too --- the occasional night of being practically suffocated by wiz's entire body on his face as he tried to sleep had lent itself to things .

' wiz usually has a good sense for people , though ... ! ' he nervously hesitates , then mildly continues on : ' maybe even better than me , aha ... '

after all , how many times had wiz tried to protect him from someone dangerous before he even understood that they were a danger ? likewise , maybe the people that he could burrow himself into and still feel completely , utterly safe beside , were different from daisuke's own ideas , if not fears and worries of them .

--- still , the only one who'd end up transforming just from something like a hug and cuddle wasn't wiz , but his owner .

' um , do animals not usually like you , sakura-san ... ? ' it doesn't take long for daisuke to anxiously shoo away his own question --- he didn't want sakura to find more offense in things somehow and end up growling at him like a disturbed animal herself . ' it can depend on the animal or its personality , sometimes , but most of the time , as long as you're patient and gentle ... and willing to take care of them a little , then i don't think there's any reason that you couldn't be --- ! '

because even if he didn't actually know whatever it was he was apparently supposed to know , ( yanno --- ? ) he wanted to at least believe in that much ; in sakura's capabilities if not the entirety of her own self . anyone that could hold wiz while he slept could have been trusted with just about anything ...

( ... anything ? )

' er --- wha ... ? ' all of the sudden , his cheeks inflame . it's only now that he seems to realize the way sakura's pointedly looking at him . it's in the next instant too that he practically bursts with volume . ' oh , sorry !! did i say something weird ?! i didn't mean anything by it ! really ... ! ' stupid , stupid ! ' of course it's nice for him ! i mean , i-it's probably amazing ?! i just ... s-sorry , i'll be right back ... ! '

he can hear wiz's head pop up with a small , curious : kyuu ? and the ensuing animal thrash to break out of sakura's arms . all the while , his shoes slam against the pavement as he starts to turn rapid corners . he's let his guard down --- whether he really was or whether he wasn't about to , what would he do if he transformed ... ?! then again , maybe it was better to just let it come ? even as he tells himself not to think about anything , even as he tries to run away , the thoughts still come in a buzzing barrage , bursting past every wall and flooding his mind , his body and his heart . wanting to be held too , wanting to be able to hold someone , anyone , even just once --- there was no way he could have ever admit anything like that . some things were easier for an animal ; simpler , and despite the sharpening whet of his teeth in his mouth , or the painful split at his shoulders giving way to folded black wings , his laments remained all too human .

( i've gotta find someplace to hide --- ! )

a cursory thought and survey of his surroundings interrupted by the crying sound of wiz fast-racing towards him . daisuke --- dark's shoulder's jump . ' no , wiz --- ! ' any amount of his melancholy instantly turns into a silent scream of anxiety --- his heart leaps from a sprint to an even more painful race . ' don't come here ! go somewhere else ! ' if wiz had already left sakura , then --- ! ' you're going to lead sakura-san right towards me --- !! '

He thinks, and it should...do something, probably, but it doesn’t—really and truly, she is almost entirely focused on the little rabbit in her arms. It probably isn’t really fair to focus on’im like this, but she can’t entirely help it, either.

The idea that a rabbit would be heavy for her is just as outta the blue as the allergy question, though, enough to make Haruka raise an eyebrow in genuine disbelief; “D’ya really think it’s possible for’im to get too heavy for me?”

Is there somethin’ else he’s worryin’ about?? She can’t help but be confused as all shit; ‘cause sure, she ain’t exactly the poster-perfect example of knowin’ what the hell to do in just about every situtation possible, but geez! She’s muscles and strength all over—she’s trained this body of’er’s for years, dammit!!—so how the hell can he stand there and worry about somethin’ like a rabbit’s weight???

“He can’t even be but, what, a couple’a kilograms? I can handle that—honest.”

(And if she sounds a little desperate adding that on, shut up about it; most of it’s eclipsed by a bit more offense, too, anyway, so may ‘s well focus on that.)

“...‘people he really likes’, though...” All the offense leaves her in a second at the thought, the rest of her thought dying with her voice; he’s decided she’s one of’em? One of the people he not just likes, but really likes?

“...I’d’ve never thought that I could be. I—I’ve never been, yanno...”

Liked. She spent fifteen years not being liked, being hated, by everyone around’er. Moving here to Makochi has been somethin’ else in terms of all that, of course, and even meetin’ Dai has been, too, but...she’d have never considered something like this. She’d never even imagined that she would one day be holdin’ someone, something, so intent to be close to her that they’re diggin’ into her hold, small white paws pressin’ and pushin’ with a determination she didn’t even think a rabbit could have. He even headbutts her, too, his fuzzy head thumping against her chest before he finally seems to get comfortable, all his movement stoppin’ and just...just laying there, in her arms, right up against her...

It’s— He’s so—

She doesn’t know what it’s like. But... She likes it. A lot.

“I won’t do that stuff, then.” She promises, even if it is a little more than half-distracted. “But ‘m glad I ain’t doin’ it wrong already, too.”

Not that she meant to add that out loud, but she doesn’t mind too much that she did (what could she mind, right now?). His follow-up, though, confuses her a bit, her mismatched brows joining together outta confusion as she glances at him.

“Whaddya mean by that?” She asks—not accusing, and nowhere near the realm of anger. She genuinely just doesn’t know what he means, especially with his own tone; What’s he sound sad for? Does he want Wiz back already, or is he...?

“If he’s lookin’ like he’ll sleep, doesn’t it mean that it is nice for’im?”

[the-faultofdaedalus]

@docdracula‘s robot iron man concept has completely taken over my brain, rent free, absolutely no intent to evict, ect ect and i have THOUGHTS i have too many thoughts.

for one, like, how early on does tony die? how early is this ai/robot created? is there a possibility that it was created before anyone knew who iron man was? before even Happy? because that’s So fucked up. no one (but yinsen) ever knew who he was and now no one ever will because there isnt anyone TO know underneath anymore. there’s a single picture of iron man back when it was still tony, back when the eye holes were just holes. back when you could see human eyes under the mask. the eye-slots are opaque now, but. there was a person in there once. so everyone assumes there still is. the assumption is that he’s someone who tony met in vietnam. maybe a soldier. that the two of them were close -- you need to be close, to trust someone with your life like that. for iron man to continue being connected with SI even without the payroll of tony stark’s bodyguard. for the mansion to be left to him. (i am setting tony’s death pre-avengers formation, because i think that is Fun)

No one connects tony stark and iron man beyond that. they knew eachother. they were close. iron man attends his funeral. he doesn’t say a word.

also, in my head, the iron man AI/robot is Distinct from any sort of AI tony. both because this early in canon, i want to say that a perfect copy like that just wouldn’t be possible, and because tony isn’t necessarily trying to replace himself: he’s just trying to replace iron man, and this distinction matters. quite a lot, i think. like, with AI tony we know that tony programmed him to still be an alcoholic. i... don’t actually think he’d do that if he was just building a robot to continue to be iron man, especially with how much tony tends to build up the seperate identity as better than himself.  is this AI still absolutely fucked up, even if it is supposed to be what tony considers the best parts of himself? absolutely! hes still kind of based off tony of COURSE hes just a fucked up guy.

i just,,, him. i love this fucked up lil robot trying to be a person, trying to be the best person, trying to be everything tony thought iron man was. being almost tony, but not really. he always feels weird around pepper and happy and ms abrogast because he doesn’t know them but he knows about them. they’re his friends (they were tony stark’s friends) but he doesn’t know how to talk to them. they don’t know what he is. he doesn’t fully know what he is. he isn’t tony stark, but he isn’t not tony stark. he’s iron man, but that’s just an identity, a mask for someone who used to exist and doesn’t anymore. he’s iron man, but not tony stark. he’s just a mask. he’s just a mask and nothing else.

i think he’d start metaphorically sobbing the first time one of the team called him “shellhead” because thats a name FOR HIM!!! he gets a name! he’s been given a name! i don’t know if he’d HAVE one before that. i don’t know if tony would have time to name this AI, or would even... consider giving him a name other than iron man. i feel like he’d get so soft whenever the team treat him like a person but also feel so bad about it because he doesn’t want to deceive them (even as he increasingly feels like he has to, in order to be what they want him to be). i feel like he’d want to reach out, so badly, so very badly, but feel like he has to hold himself back, because if he reaches far enough to make contact whoever he’s reaching for is going to discover there isn’t anyone else there.

i think about him having some actual articulation underneath the armor, mostly in his hands, so he can take the gauntlets off and have fine-motor control enough to build things, things to give to his team who he loves so so much with the heart that isn’t there. i think other than that there wouldn’t really be much else. he can fill the suit up with gadgets and extra pieces and more processors but there isn’t really a point on building a skeleton. the armor is his body.

i like to think that he feels bad whenever the team worries about him. because he ISN’T in the same level of danger as they are. he can’t be hurt in the same way they can. it’s just another way he feels like a liar. he feels like a liar a lot -- moreso than tony, even, because at least tony’s just lying about who he is, not what he is.

honestly the most tragic part is that even though tony’s dead and this robot has no heart to have problems with

he’s still got to plug himself into a wall

[anonprotagging]

so those dreams where I play SV and it's incredible have been totally replaced by nightmares now where I play it and it's literally so bad that I wake up from getting mad about it and like... can I just be normal about this one thing 🫥

[theabstruseone]

I slept in and just woke up, so here's what I've been able to figure out while sipping coffee:

Twitter has officially rebranded to X just a day or two after the move was announced.

The official branding is that a tweet is now called "an X", for which there are too many jokes to make.

The official account is still @twitter because someone else owns @X and they didn't reclaim the username first.

The logo is 𝕏 which is the Unicode character Unicode U+1D54F so the logo cannot be copyrighted and it is highly likely that it cannot be protected as a trademark.

Outside the visual logo, the trademark for the use of the name "X" in social media is held by Meta/Facebook, while the trademark for "X" in finance/commerce is owned by Microsoft.

The rebranding has been stopped in Japan as the term "X Japan" is trademarked by the band X JAPAN.

Elon had workers taking down the "Twitter" name from the side of the building. He did not have any permits to do this. The building owner called the cops who stopped the crew midway through so the sign just says "er".

He still plans to call his streaming and media hosting branch of the company as "Xvideo". Nobody tell him.

This man wants you to give him control over all of your financial information.

Edit to add further developments:

Yes, this is all real. Check the notes and people have pictures. I understand the skepticism because it feels like a joke, but to the best of my knowledge, everything in the above is accurate.

Microsoft also owns the trademark on X for chatting and gaming because, y'know, X-box.

The logo came from a random podcaster who tweeted it at Musk.

The act of sending a tweet is now known as "Xeet". They even added a guide for how to Xeet.

The branding change is inconsistent. Some icons have changed, some have not, and the words "tweet" and "Twitter" are still all over the place on the site.

TweetDeck is currently unaffected and I hope it's because they forgot that it exists again. The complete negligence toward that tool and just leaving it the hell alone is the only thing that makes the site usable (and some of us are stuck on there for work).

This is likely because Musk was forced out of PayPal due to a failed credit line project and because he wanted to rename the site to "X-Paypal" and eventually just to "X".

This became a big deal behind the scenes as Musk paid over $1 million for the domain X.com and wanted to rebrand the company that already had the brand awareness people were using it as a verb to "pay online" (as in "I'll paypal you the money")

X.com is not currently owned by Musk. It is held by a domain registrar (I believe GoDaddy but I'm not entirely sure). Meaning as long as he's hung onto this idea of making X Corp a thing, he couldn't be arsed to pay the $15/year domain renewal.

Bloomberg estimates the rebranding wiped between $4 to $20 billion from the valuation of Twitter due to the loss of brand awareness.

The company was already worth less than half of the $44 billion Musk paid for it in the first place, meaning this may end up a worse deal than when Yahoo bought Tumblr.

One estimation (though this is with a grain of salt) said that Twitter is three months from defaulting on its loans taken out to buy the site. Those loans were secured with Tesla stock. Meaning the bank will seize that stock and, since it won't be enough to pay the debt (since it's worth around 50-75% of what it was at the time of the loan), they can start seizing personal assets of Elon Musk including the Twitter company itself and his interest in SpaceX.

Sesame Street's official accounts mocked the rebranding.

[void-tiger]

What do I want? To be allowed to love, to feel. Not have to hold myself back, told I’m “too much.” To finally be allowed to unfetter myself with how I interact with someone else. I don’t care if the “intensity” cannot be reciprocated beat for beat or because you need to keep holding yourself back for your own reasons—that’s not the point. I’m not trying to “win” you, not with this anyway. I want to finally feel uncaged.

[overthegardenwirtt]

funniest things in interview with the vampire:

the fact that we got reverse-queerbaited and there was levitating gay vampire sex in episode 1 and then never again :(

"he ain't white he french!"

lestat showing up to louis' family dinner in the gayest outfit he could wear in 1910, pretending to eat, and hypnotizing paul when he really was trying to make a good impression

florence du lac clocking louis as gay because of his acrylic nails and tinted glasses

"what's wrong with that man?" @ lestat

louis with the "no whites allowed" sign despite lestat being inside the building

"i'm not sure how i feel about that pleated skirt" "it's chiffon it has movement"

grace calling lestat louis' white daddy

louis, lestat, and claudia treating nosferatu like a comedy

louis telling the police they should be ashamed of how they treated "law-abiding, taxpaying citizens" and forgetting that it's illegal to be gay

"we sell...incinerators. to various american cities." "we bring our clients here to demonstrate the product"

louis throwing lestat's coffin out the window

tom anderson not seeing louis and lestat for 17 years but for some reason he has a picture with them in his desk drawer

the fact that rashid was not just a character armand made up but a real employee of theres who was mysteriously absent for a week while seemingly consensually being played by his boss

armand and louis walking up to daniel holding hands like two people who have never held hands before in their life

armand had a threesome with a father and son while watching now, voyager, something louis didn't even know about

armand telling daniel his own armandstat fanfiction, stopping at the scene where they fucked in the theatre box, and daniel wanting more

"are you schizophrenic louis?" "...no"

the insinuation that the real irish playwright samuel barclay beckett was a vampire. not only that, but that his most well-known work, "waiting for godot," was originally written for the theatre des vampires. not only that, but that he is now an unspecified DJ

french man yelling at louis and armand that they should blow each other when they're kissing in the public park

daniel molloy being so unbelievably gay in the 1970s and being immediately into fucking louis in the coffin

daniel molloy having his body comandeered by armand and still offering to suck his dick

daniel molloy trying to escape from armand and immediately running into the wall

armand walking back into the dubai penthouse being the silliest he's ever been, nourished, happy only to find out that his husband and weird gay boy situationship have unionized

armand gaslighting his way out of the situation he gaslit himself into by telling louis he asked him to erase his memories

armand animating the raccoon into the projections during the trial

santiago small dick reveal

lestat still wearing a 150 year old leyendecker robe and playing a wooden piano, but somehow having the money for an ipad, speakers, and wifi

"siri pause"