#i have never met another person in real life who'd seen them before

[foxxsong]

It is so incredibly frustrating to watch everyone talk about how fanatic Across the Spiderverse is and all the important themes and representation, while I have also been one of the people desperately waiting for it to come out. And now that it has I just straight up can't. Sure, I could try, but who could possibly enjoy a movie they can't look at half the time while having a migraine for likely the entirety of it?

"Everyone should watch this movie! It's so great!" I would fucking love to, but unfortunately it is wildly inaccessible to me - and straight up genuinely legitimately DEADLY to others - so I just have to sit back and sadly watch everyone who is not photosensitive and epileptic praise it constantly while never acknowledging what a slap in the face it is to entire groups of disabled people.

I can only imagine how black epileptic animation fans feel right now.

[lemonhemlock]

Thoughts on baela/aemond, baela/aegon, rhaena(?)/aemond

I'm going to talk about their show versions, since they interacted more there. Honestly, anon, I am not convinced that Aemond and Aegon look at Baela and Rhaena favourably and I think the feeling is mutual. I'm not policing anyone's shipping preferences, but, as it stands, I don't think it tracks.

So, if you're really into these ships and don't want to read any counter-arguments, you're welcome to just not click any further.

So my arguments basically stem from the fact that both Aegon/Aemond and Baela/Rhaena had such an awful first impression of each other, that it very much coloured their perceptions in a negative way. This is not a drag on Baela or Rhaena, this is about how each person appears to the other based on a very high-stress, high-stakes incident that was handled very badly by every party, including their adult parents.

These people have never met before Laena's funeral and, after that, they spend another 6 years apart and meet each other exactly one more time before the war starts. When assessing each other, they really don't have a lot of information to work with; the fact of the matter is that they don't truly know each other, so perception is really all they're got here. How someone truly is and how they genuinely act in other social contexts and with other people is irrelevant in this particular situation.

Aemond's POV

The girls attacked Aemond first in the cave and wrongly accused him of stealing Vhagar, he insulted them and hit them back in self-defence. Then they all kicked him when he was on the ground. Baela and Rhaena did retreat at one point and called for de-escalation, but the entire incident left him eyeless and traumatized.

The girls couldn't have known that Jace & Luke had previously bullied Aemond, but, in his mind, I would find it reasonable for him to associate them with his childhood bullies and perceive them as antagonistic. It wouldn't really matter how the girls are in real life, since Aemond's sole interaction with them amounted to literally the worst moment of his life. They could be the sweetest children in Westeros, would a maimed Aemond really care?

He is then the singular narrator of his tale back to his family. He's gonna tell his mother and siblings that Baela and Rhaena attacked him too. They didn't gouge his eye out, but that doesn't change the fact that he lost said eye as a result of a fight they started.

Six years later, he isn't rude to them the next time they see each other, but he acts completely disinterested and doesn't even spare them one (1) glance. The girls don't apologise for what happened either or approach him in any way. Judging by how much of a pressure cooker Aemond is about this issue, I very much doubt he would be keen to interact with people who'd take Luke's or Jace's side. He doesn't react in any way at the news of their betrothal, not when Rhaenys announces it in court, not when Viserys mentions it again at dinner and not when Helaena toasts to them.

Aegon's POV

Aegon has even less interaction with Baela and Rhaena, but I would argue that he basically insinuates himself into Aemond's beef with his attackers.

We can see that the maiming turned Aegon against Jace and Luke, but what about Baela and Rhaena then? At the funeral, Aegon is not seen acknowledging them in any way, is bored AF and gets drunk as soon as possible. He is then woken up in the middle of the night, most likely still half-drunk & feeling like shit and aggressively interrogated by Viserys. All because a bunch of brats attacked his brother, now he has to watch the maester stitch up half his face and protect his mother from his own father. This is literally his divorce from Jace and Luke, but the girls get off the hook even though they also beat up his brother? People seem to forget Aegon also got put in the spotlight because of a fight Baela and Rhaena started. Let's be real for a moment - would someone with Aegon's personality and in Aegon's situation absolve the girls of any guilt?

At dinner, Aegon decides to antagonize Jace by directing his dumb sex jokes to Baela. Yes, it's Jace he particularly wishes to rile up, but he doesn't care enough to not be vulgar to Baela and he's not even trying to hit on her. Not that those crass comments would be OK in any situation, but he only sees her as vehicle to insult Jace. Aegon is showing us how boorish he is; evidently, he's not above harassing the girls just to annoy their boyfriends. When his first attempt fails, he keeps going. He's not going to stop until he garners a reaction.

When Baela throws hands at him after he smashes Luke's face in, he goes to her and makes a ridiculous "boo" gesture at her, as if he finds laughable the notion that she could fight him. He doesn't think it cute, he's mocking her. Later on in the books, Baela attacks him with her dragon, further injuring him and Sunfyre. As punishment, he wants to behead her (twice??) I think it's safe to say he & Baela are too antagonistic towards each other in order to get along. She'd only end up pissing him off.

Rhaena he completely and utterly ignores. But had she and Luke been seated next to him, I'm pretty certain he would have harassed Rhaena to get at Luke. In the books, she spends the war in the Vale and they don't interact any further.

Baela's & Rhaena's POVs

This one is rather easy. What would Baela and Rhaena even see in Aemond or Aegon?

They probably (and rightfully) think Aegon is a lecherous drunkard. Why would they want a relationship with this ratboy?

They think that, by claiming Vhagar, Aemond took away the last part of their mother they had left. They feel Rhaena was entitled to try to claim Vhagar first, even though she might very well have been burnt to a crisp in the attempt. If they ever had a change of heart on that topic, they never voice it out loud. They don't apologise to Aemond or even look regretful, so they must not feel responsible for what happened or think he should just get over it. They sit at a table next to an eyeless boy and act like they had nothing to do with it. When he has his outburst, they must think it unjustified and out-of-place.

Moreover, they never really look preoccupied with Aegon or Aemond in any way. They appear pleased to be with Jace and Luke. Baela, at least, both in the books and in the show, seems to be a die-hard Rhaenyra stan herself. Rhaena is shown to be similarly predisposed - she offers Rhaenyra a cup of wine in a show of support when she comes to attend the council. That would really just drive Aegon and Aemond up the wall. Baela & Rhaena don't seem in any way willing to defect and, likewise, they really don't come across as secretly pining for the village alcoholic and his anime villain sidekick either.

[labwebs]

"Oh I've had worse- don't worry about it," he said- meaning it, too. Fights with the Goblin- fights with Harry- had been brutal. Desperate. But after getting beaten up by five of his worst enemies after his former employer had broken them free from the Raft? Yeah, that'd been at the top of the pain scale. Not that other things didn't still hurt, of course, but it... it gave some perspective. And lent truth to what he'd said. Even if it had really hurt in the moment.

Eyebrows drew together in slight confusion when Harry told him who'd helped him. Of course he'd met the other Peter before- they'd talked and traded a few stories about their respective universes. It'd been a shock to meet him obviously, even if the multiverse was already something that Peter had conceptually known could be a possibility. Theory was one thing- real, living proof standing in front of you saying that his name was Peter Parker and that he was Spider-Man too was another entirely.

But... maybe that did explain a few things, too. They'd discovered some differences just by talking and hanging out when the other Peter showed up in this universe. He'd never heard the name Gwen Stacy before and the other Peter had only just met his universe's MJ the first time he'd been here. They had a few enemies in common too- notably the Lizard, Electro, and the Rhino but under different circumstances. He hadn't thought much about it at the time but when he'd casually mentioned Harry, Peter had almost immediately changed the subject. Maybe that was something to ask about now... though he wasn't sure how much he'd be willing to share.

From what he'd been able to piece together so far, it did seem like a lot of the same things happened in both his and the other Peter's life- and other other Peters too based on what he'd told him about his other multiverse journeys. But often it was just in a different order or under different circumstances. Had something happened between that Peter and the Harry of his world that was like this? He wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Listening to Harry's story with concern clearly etched on his face, Peter couldn't help but wince at the description of his alter ego as dangerous. It really wasn't the most important thing that Harry had to say in the moment, but it still stung a little. He always tried to be a friendly neighborhood hero, but it was inevitable that he'd have his critics. Heck, he even listened to Jameson's podcast semi-regularly just to be able to know how his actions could be seen from another point of view so he could adjust if needed. Something he'd often thought other people needed in their own lives, too, but that was beside the point at the moment.

"I appreciate that," he said quietly, a tension he hadn't realized he'd been holding in his shoulders releasing. It wouldn't have been the first time someone tried to reverse-engineer his abilities, really. Though it'd been a bit of a shock to find out that Norman was interested in them, Peter had been aware of certain corners of the scientific community that tried to work out how his powers work and where they might have come from. He'd sort of kept the whole 'radioactive spider' bit to himself mostly to avoid any kids trying to copy the story- it was insanely statistically unlikely after all. Well, ok, it had happened twice. But still pretty unlikely.

"I've... thought about studying it myself before," he admitted, picking up another slice of pizza just so he had something to do with his hands. "I mean I got my degree in biophysics after all, but it just seemed risky. I know what I can do and a bit of the why and I know my limits but I guess after seeing everything else that'd happened in the city even before the other year with Fisk and Li and Dr. Octavius just did make me worry what'd happen if someone who only wanted power for personal gain got ahold of that."

Would he be willing to risk that for his best friend? He wasn't sure. He'd seen one false Spidey in action before, under the employment of Wilson Fisk. Peter shuddered to think what could happen on a larger scale. But he also didn't want to lose anyone again. Maybe they could find another way.

"I mean I'm sure your Dad's got all his best people working on it but I could take a look at what you've got so far if that helps?"

It didn't surprise him that MJ knew. Not with how many situations made sense, looking back, and Harry rested his back against the wall as he listened, and did his best to hear Peter out. He could understand some things, in truth. Oh, they stung, because it had been almost a decade since Spider-Man had been first sighted and now Harry felt both foolish and very unobservant. Untrusted, for all he'd been doing the very same thing, and it was hypocrisy of the highest level but he could only wonder just how much he'd known Peter at all.

But that was, he knew it, not particularly fair.

Maybe, if he'd noticed a few things before, he'd have saved them both quite a lot of pain. Pain and reckless ideas and now he could only dread what might have happened if he'd won, as Peter revealed what was still quite the bruise and Harry remembered the sheer satisfaction as he'd caused that.

Now it made him feel sick.

"I feel like I'll be saying this very often," he admitted, nodding towards the briefly visible injury, "but I'm sorry about that."

And he was. Moreover, for some things, he couldn't really blame his friend. Not when Harry had lied even more, and when Harry's father was very much a potential problem.

"Telling me wouldn't have been safe, back then." He had to admit, with a faint shrug, feeling as the conversation slowly helped him move away from the instincts that so bothered him on the regular. "Not given how many times he had me followed." He even added.

But it had been some time, afterwards, and now? Now things had changed more than any of them could have predicted, and even despite all that lay now between them, Peter was still mentioning his help.

Harry's smile was wry, especially as he adressed that second question. The first one, well, was a far more complex matter.

"Normally I wouldn't tell. Gratitude, and principles, and all those things. But given who you are, and who he is..." He considered. "You've met him. That one universe-hopping Peter Parker." He revealed.

The rest of their conversation, however, he'd keep to himself. The one warning that had pushed Harry to seek help at last, because he could not bear to risk it, the awareness that in some universe he'd needed to be stopped and it had been too late. Peter didn't need to know that.

"About that help, though..." He added, shifting his weight to sit a bit more comfortably, "this all changes things. So I guess I'll start at the beginning." He decided.

It was not a nice story, but still a necessary one.

"My first treatment almost succeeded." He told Peter. "And then it did not. Before I left the lab, before we met again, it failed spectacularly and by then stasis was no longer an option again. So once more I was running out of time, until we figured what I'm using now. And at first, it seemed like it'd worked." He added. "Things were looking fine... And then they weren't again. For now it's holding, but it won't hold forever. Each dose gets worse in some ways, even with continuous adjustments." He revealed. "But the side effects are useful in battle, so there came yet another reckless plan: get a hold of Spider-Man or Spider-Man's blood, to try and reverse engineer his healing factor."

And now Harry's smile was mirthless.

"I knew you'd been able to get pictures of him in the past, so I almost asked you for help." He admitted. "But back then, with the knowledge I had, I couldn't bear the thought of asking you to contact who could be a dangerous vigilante, especially on my behalf. If he'd turned against you, or against Oscorp... It'd have been my fault. And as it was my life on the line, I decided to do things myself. Hence the Goblin."

And it had not worked in any way as Harry had wanted, or expected.

"This said," Harry continued, now looking at Peter squarely in the eye, because he wanted to be clear on it, "knowing what I know now, I am not letting Oscorp nor my father get their hands on you." He promised. "For all it admittedly complicates things."

[aldbooks]

By special request, a continuation of my Gwynriel angst prompt “when did you start lying to me?” but with a smutty ending.

So... angsty smut? Or smutty angst? You decide

---

Azriel froze a foot from the door as her words hit him with the force of a war hammer.

"Because I was scared."

"Scared." He repeated the word as though it were foreign to him. Whirling around, he found her on the ground, hugging her knees to her chest. His anger from before deflated a fraction. The tears spilling from her eyes tore at his heart, but he would not let himself comfort her. Not until he had answers.

He needed to know.

Needed to know what he had done, where he had gone so wrong, that she did not trust him enough to tell him the truth. To keep something so momentous from him.

"You were scared?" he asked numbly. "Of what?"

"You."

He went wholly still. Even his shadows seemed thrown by this response, finally deigning to come out from hiding behind him to peer over his shoulder at him. Mate, they seemed to say mournfully.

"Of- me?" The words burned as he choked them out.

Gwyn sighed, scrubbing her face with her hands. "Not you, exactly. But your reaction."

"How so? What did you think I would do?"

She looked up at him them, but whatever she was attempting to convey in those seaglass eyes of hers, he did not understand.

With another sigh, she got to her feet, apparently not wanting to have this conversation on the ground, and leaned against the wall once more. "Azriel, I love you-" those words sucked the very air from him, though she did not seem to notice. "But you are perhaps the most doggedly determined person I know, aside from myself. From the way you've spoken in the past of the females you cared for... it was so- possessive-"

"Possessive?" He stalked back across the room towards her, aghast. Was that what she'd thought he would think? That she belonged to him? The very idea was abhorrent. Gwyn was her own person, as she often liked to remind him. She belonged to no one but herself, and he had never dared to think otherwise.

"Yes," she said, watching him warily. "The way you spoke of them- the obviously jealousy you felt for the attention they gave others and not you. The obessesive way you pursued them, even after they made their disinterest clear..."

Whatever else she said, he barely heard it as his anger rose again, thundering in his mind like a living creature. All those old insecurities that he thought he'd buried came roaring back to life. Not good enough. Too damaged. Worthless.

"...At first I just wanted a chance to know you, this male who'd rescued me. To know if what I'd felt the night was real. I knew it was the minute I saw you again, but I still didn't know you... I was worried that you might- you might push too far. That the bond might drive you to- might make you desire what I was not ready to-"

Her words cut off with a startled scream as his fist landed on the wall beside her face. He blinked, startled himself to find he had even moved, let alone thrown a punch at the wall, cracking the wood.

"I- sorry, I-"

Gwyn cringed away from him, into the corner, but they were already standing so close to it she only managed to move a few inches. He backed off slightly, holding up his hands. "I'm sorry."

She only stared at him, for once showing a fear he'd never seen in her Not even the night they'd met, when he'd been covered in the blood of the males he'd just killed. Perhaps she was right to be scared of him. He couldn't even control his anger around her, how did he expect her to trust her body to him? Her heart?

But she'd given him that already, hadn't she?

"Azriel, I love you-"

Or perhaps that had been a lie too.

"Is that what you think of me?" he asked, his throat tight. "You think I would- that I would try to force you?"

Her eyes went wide. "No! No, of course not. I- I do know you better than that but... I know the mating instinct is stronger for males. I knew it would push you claim me- to be with me- but I wasn't ready for any of that. Not just the physical things, I wasn't ready for a relationship either. And... the longer I waited to tell you, the harder it was. It never seemed to be the right time..."

They stared at each other, Azriel wanting to forgive her, to go to her, to touch her, taste her, breath her in- but he held off, still hurt.

"I do though," she said after a moment. "Want those things now, I mean."

There was a giddy fluttering in his chest that he tried to suppress. She wanted him. She loved him. Had chosen him. But none of this made up for the fact that she had lied to him. Might have kept on lying to him for cauldron knew how long, had he not found out the way he did.

"But you don't trust me," he said, his voice low.

"I do," she insisted. He moved suddenly, boxing her in. She gasped, jerking slightly.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked. He could feel his shadows behind him now, climbing around him to cocoon them in darkness, hiding them from the outside world. He could still see her, though. Could see the steadiness in her gaze as she nodded.

"Yes."

In a flash, he had her spun around from him, her body wedged between him and the wall. He could hear her nervous breaths, feel her trembling, could smell the mixture of fear and desire wafting off of her.

"Are you sure?" he asked again, sliding his hands up along her sides. She shivered, but nodded.

One hand found the end of her braid, wrapping it around his fist and tilting her head to the side, while the other wrapped around her belly, pressing her firmly against him. He dragged the tip of his nose along the smooth column of her neck, inhaling loudly as something predatory and primal took over him.

"Tell me to stop, Gwyn," he said, almost pleadingly, against her ear. Her scent was driving him mad. Now that he knew of the existence of the bond, even if it had not snapped into place for him yet, he could feel the urge to claim her. It burned low and hot within him.

He heard her suck in a shaky breath, but she said not a word. Now was not the time for misunderstanding though. Not when he felt like this. Not with the history between them, the knowledge of what she had been through. He needed to hear her say it.

"Tell me to stop, Gwyn," he repeated.

"N-no," she breathed. "I trust you."

A growl worked its way up his throat. "Now is not the time to say what you think will appease me-"

"I'm not," she snapped, now sounding angry herself. "Quite frankly, I'm insulted you think I would."

He nearly laughed at that. She was right. Gwyn had never done anything to appease him. She had the ability to both soothe him, and aggravate in a way no one else could. She never backed down from him, no matter how bull headed he was being. Never took the easy way. She liked a good fight, his Gwyn.

So, he'd give her one now.

He pulled them both back from the wall enough for him to reach a hand around her and begin unbuckling the straps that held her leathers in place. He moved slowly, checking to see if she would object with each one he unfastened, each new inch of skin he bared. She did not object, bracing one hand against the wall while laying the other over his own hand, beginning to guide him to the next buckle, and the next.

Soon, her top hung open, and he could see the smooth expanse of skin between her breasts. "Tell me to stop," he said, reaching his hand back up and slipping it beneath the soft lining of her leathers to palm her breast. It was the perfect handful, not too small, not too large. Made just for him.

She arched into him, her breathing uneven. "Don't stop," she panted.

Azriel swallowed a groan as he obeyed.

They continue their discussion later. Figure out what all of this meant, and how to move forward once they got home. Right now, he just wanted to feel...

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything is now ruined.

Chapter 22: Then It Ended

As soon as we came, Annabeth ang Grover tackled me. We were the first heroes to return alive to Half-Blood Hill since Luke, so of course everybody treated us as if we'd won some reality-TV contest. According to camp tradition, we wore laurel wreaths to a big feast prepared in our honor, then led a procession down to the bonfire, where we got to burn the burial shrouds our cabins had made for us in our absence.

Annabeth's shroud was so beautiful—gray silk with embroidered owls— Percy told her it seemed a shame not to bury her in it. She punched him and told him to shut up. Percy being the son of Poseidon, he didn't have any cabin mates, so the Ares cabin had volunteered to make his shroud. They'd taken an old bedsheet and painted smiley faces with X'ed-out eyes around the border, and the word LOSER painted really big in the middle.

As I was still unclaimed, Hermes cabin had made me one. (Just... IDK go crazy with your shroud IG) It was fun to burn. As Apollo's cabin led the sing-along and passed out s'mores, Percy and I was surrounded by my Hermes cabinmates, Annabeth's friends from Athena, and Grover's satyr buddies, who were admiring the brand-new searcher's license he'd received from the Council of Cloven Elders. The council had called Grover's performance on the quest "Brave to the point of indigestion. Horns-and-whiskers above anything we have seen in the past." The only ones not in a party mood were Clarisse and her cabinmates, whose poisonous looks told me they'd never forgive us for disgracing their dad. That was okay with me. Even Dionysus's welcome-home speech wasn't enough to dampen my spirits. "Yes, yes, so the little brats didn't get themselves killed and now they'll have an even bigger head. Well, huzzah for that. In other announcements, there will be no canoe races this Saturday...." Going back to the cabin I finally had time to talk to Luke. Who just expressed his relief of me being fine, and how he was scared when Annabeth told everyone about me. No wonder everyone was so shocked seeing me come back with Percy. On the Fourth of July, the whole camp gathered at the beach for a fireworks display by cabin nine. Being Hephaestus's kids, they weren't going to settle for a few lame red-white-and-blue explosions. They'd anchored a barge offshore and loaded it with rockets the size of Patriot missiles. According to Annabeth, who'd seen the show before, the blasts would be sequenced so tightly they'd look like frames of animation across the sky. The finale was supposed to be a couple of hundred-foot-tall Spartan warriors who would crackle to life above the ocean, fight a battle, then explode into a million colors. As Annabeth, Percy and I were spreading a picnic blanket, Grover showed up to tell us good-bye. He was dressed in his usual jeans and T-shirt and sneakers, but in the last few weeks he'd started to look older, almost high-school age. His goatee had gotten thicker. He'd put on weight. His horns had grown at least an inch, so he now had to wear his rasta cap all the time to pass as human. "I'm off," he said. "I just came to say ... well, you know." I tried to feel happy for him. After all, it wasn't every day a satyr got permission to go look for the great god Pan. But it was hard saying good-bye. I'd only known Grover a year, yet he was my oldest friend. Annabeth and I gave him a hug. She told him to keep his fake feet on. I asked him where he was going to search first. "Kind of a secret," he said, looking embarrassed. "I wish you could come with me, guys, but humans and Pan ..." "We understand," Annabeth said. "You got enough tin cans for the trip?" "Yeah." "And you remembered your reed pipes?" "Jeez, Annabeth," he grumbled. "You're like an old mama goat." But he didn't really sound annoyed. He gripped his walking stick and slung a backpack over his shoulder. He looked like any hitchhiker you might see on an American highway. "Well," he said, "wish me luck." He gave Annabeth and I another hug. He clapped Percy on the shoulder, then headed back through the dunes. Fireworks exploded to life overhead: Hercules killing the Nemean lion, Artemis chasing the boar, George Washington (who, by the way, was a son of Athena) crossing the Delaware. "Hey, Grover," Percy called. He turned at the edge of the woods. "Wherever you're going—I hope they make good enchiladas." Grover grinned, and then he was gone, the trees closing around him. "We'll see him again," Annabeth said. July passed. I spent my daysplanning out strategies with Luke for capture-the-flag and making alliances with the other cabins to keep the banner out of Ares's hands. I got to the top of the climbing wall for the first time without getting scorched by lava. From time to time, Percy and I would walk past the Big House, he'd glance up at the attic windows, and think about the Oracle.

I tried to convince him that its prophecy had come to completion. "You shall go west, and face the god who has turned." "Been there, done that—even though the traitor god had turned out to be Ares rather than Hades." "You shall find what was stolen, and see it safe returned." "Check. One master bolt delivered. One helm of darkness back on Hades." "You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend." Percy recited. "Ares had pretended to be our friend, then betrayed us. That must be what the Oracle meant.... Or maybe Nereid?"

"And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end." He sighed. "I had failed to save my mom and lost you..."

"So why are you still uneasy?" The last night of the summer session came all too quickly. The campers had one last meal together. We burned part of our dinner for the gods. At the bonfire, the senior counselors awarded the end-of-summer beads. Percy and I got our own leather necklace, and when I saw the bead for my first summer. The design was pitch black, with a sea-green trident shimmering in the center.

"This is so beautiful..." I smiled to Percy. "The choice was unanimous," Luke announced. "This bead commemorates the first Son of the Sea God at this camp, and the quest he undertook into the darkest part of the Underworld to stop a war!" The entire camp got to their feet and cheered. Even Ares's cabin felt obliged to stand. Athena's cabin steered Annabeth to the front so she could share in the applause. I'm not sure I'd ever felt as happy or sad as I did at that moment. I'd finally found a family, people who cared about me and thought I'd done something right. And in the morning, most of them would be leaving for the year. * * * The next morning, Luke called me. He gave me a paper, telling me to fill it out, and asked me to meet him as soon as I could. I knew Dionysus must've filled it out, because he stubbornly insisted on getting my name wrong: Dear (WRONG NAME) , If you intend to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, you must inform the Big House by noon today. If you do not announce your intentions, we will assume you have vacated your cabin or died a horrible death. Cleaning harpies will begin work at sundown. They will be authorized to eat any unregistered campers. All personal articles left behind will be incinerated in the lava pit. Have a nice day! Mr. D (Dionysus) Camp Director, Olympian Council #12 That's another thing about ADHD. Deadlines just aren't real to me until I'm staring one in the face. Summer was over, and I still don't know what to do. I had no where to go to. The only option I had was Percy's or maybe Hades was not joking about inviting me back to the Underworld. Sighing I decided to just meet Luke before filling it for second opinions. The campgrounds were mostly deserted, shimmering in the August heat. All the campers were in their cabins packing up, or running around with brooms and mops, getting ready for final inspection. Argus was helping some of the Aphrodite kids haul their Gucci suitcases and makeup kits over the hill, where the camp's shuttle bus would be waiting to take them to the airport. I was walking around looking for Luke. I jumped when I felt someone tap me from behind. I instinctively unsheathed my knife and turned only to see Luke with his hands raised.

"Whoa! Calm down just me." He laughed.

"Kinda weird seeing someone laugh at a knife pointed at them." I smirked sheathing my knife.

"I only laugh since its you." He smiled and ruffled my hair. "Are you done with everything?"

"Not really. I don't know whether to leave or not yet. That's why I came. Help me?" I asked him.

He turned to me and to the forest. "How about you hear me out about something... important and private... then decide?" He gestured towards the forest.

"Not planning on killing me are you?" I squinted at him.

He gasped. "Not you. Never. I would never hurt you."

I let him lead me to a shrouded area of the forest.

"How serious is this thing that you can't let anyone see? I am blindly trusting you here Luke." I laughed nervously. But when he didn't reply I felt something was off. "Luke, okay this isn't cool. How deep into the forest do we have to go?"

"Y/N remember when you said... You want to be the person I trust...? How you promised to help me?"

"Luke?" He took my hand and pulled me sharply. I winced at how hard he pulled me. "That hurts! Let me go!"

He snapped back and let go of my wrist. "I-I'm sorry... Y/N..."

As much as I knew I had to leave, I couldn't I was worried about him. I reluctantly placed a hand on his shoulder. "What's happening?"

"I did it..." I said and sat on the ground. "I swear I didn't mean to get you hurt. But, I confess to everything. I  stole bolt and helm, I summoned the hound, I gave Percy the cursed shoes... And just now, I tried to kill Percy Jackson." He looked at me with empty eyes.

I shot up and looked at him in emotions I couldn't put in words. "W-Wh---" I wanted to leave and check on Percy. But once again, seeing him right now... I need to stay with him. "Why are you telling me this...?"

"Join me... please?" his voice was weak. He sounded vulnerable. "Let's serve my Lord together..."

"L-Luke... no. I-I can't do that!" I took his shoulder, "Y-You should stay with me instead. How about that, huh? L-Let's explain to Chiron and the others... come on please. I could help you!"

Nothing was working.

"Come with me..." He muttered.

"Luke, I won't join you. You have to change your mind. You can't do this."

"I can't change my mind."

"I can help you with that? How about you go with me huh? I could spend all my time doing this and that. Please, just change your mind."

He didn't reply for a while until he whispered, "Promise me."

"Promise you what?"

"You'll stay with me."

"What? Luke I wo--"

"You won't join... Just...don't stay here for the year... and stay with me."

"I-If I stay with you... what would that mean?"

"Yo-You... might change my mind."

"I'll go." I replied with no hesitation. "I'll leave camp for the year. And I'll find my parent to prove to you that Gods and Goddess aren't all bad. We'll find my parent together."

"I do my lord's bidding--"

"You can still do it. If you want to. But whatever happens... stays only between us. I'll stay with you until I change your mind. And I'll bring you back to camp."

"I would never do anything to ruin your trust in me." He knelt down. It was kinda awkward but hey... "I need you."

Worry not hero. We shall stay.

"Please..."

We'll meet again. Wait for us, we shall join you soon. Now leave.

I had no idea what happened since when I came to Luke was gone and there was no sign of him anywhere. How were we going to st---

We will meet him once we leave. Now go as our hero needs us.

I suddenly remembered Percy's state that Luke had told me about. So I ran. I ran to the Big House

***

Percy finally opened his eyes. He was propped up in bed in the sickroom of the Big House, his right hand bandaged like a club. Argus stood guard in the corner. Annabeth and I sat next to Percy, I was holding his nectar glass and she was dabbing a washcloth on his forehead.

"Here we are again," Percy said. "You idiot," Annabeth said, "You were green and turning gray when we found you. If it weren't for Chiron's healing..." "Now, now," Chiron's voice said. "Percy's constitution deserves some of the credit." He was sitting near the foot of the bed in human form. His lower half was magically compacted into the wheelchair, his upper half dressed in a coat and tie. He smiled, but his face looked weary and pale, the way it did when he'd been up all night grading Latin papers. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "Like my insides have been frozen, then microwaved." "Apt, considering that was pit scorpion venom. Now you must tell me, if you can, exactly what happened." Between sips of nectar, he told them the story.

I bit my lip trying to keep what happened between Luke and I private. It was a risky move that would not be approved by anyone after all. The room was quiet for a long time. "I can't believe that Luke..." Annabeth's voice faltered. Her expression turned angry and sad. "Yes. Yes, I can believe it. May the gods curse him.... He was never the same after his quest."

Percy was looking at me as if checking what was my reaction to his story. "This must be reported to Olympus," Chiron murmured. "I will go at once." "Luke is out there right now," Percy said. "I have to go after him." Chiron shook his head. "No, Percy. The gods—" "Won't even talk about Kronos," Percy snapped. "Zeus declared the matter closed!" "Percy, I know this is hard. But you must not rush out for vengeance. You aren't ready." "Chiron... your prophecy from the Oracle... it was about Kronos, wasn't it? Was I in it? Y/N? And Annabeth?" Chiron glanced nervously at the ceiling. "Percy, it isn't my place—" "You've been ordered not to talk to me about it, haven't you?" His eyes were sympathetic, but sad. "You will be a great hero, child. I will do my best to prepare you. But if I'm right about the path ahead of you..." Thunder boomed overhead, rattling the windows. "All right!" Chiron shouted. "Fine!" He sighed in frustration. "The gods have their reasons, Percy. Knowing too much of your future is never a good thing." "We can't just sit back and do nothing," He said. "We will not sit back," Chiron promised. "But you must be careful. Kronos wants you to come unraveled. He wants your life disrupted, your thoughts clouded with fear and anger. Do not give him what he wants. Train patiently. Your time will come." "Assuming I live that long." Chiron put his hand on Percy's ankle. "You'll have to trust me, Percy. You will live. But first you must decide your path for the coming year. I cannot tell you the right choice...." I got the feeling that he had a very definite opinion, and it was taking all his willpower not to advise me. "But you must decide whether to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, or return to the mortal world for seventh grade and be a summer camper. Think on that. When I get back from Olympus, you must tell me your decision." "I'll be back as soon as I can," Chiron promised. "Argus will watch over you." He glanced at Annabeth. "Oh, and, my dear... whenever you're ready, they're here." "Who's here?" Percy asked. Nobody answered. Chiron rolled himself out of the room. I heard the wheels of his chair clunk carefully down the front steps, two at a time. Annabeth studied the floor. "What's wrong?" Percy asked her. "Nothing. I ... just took your advice about something. You ... um ... need anything?" "Yeah. Help me up. I want to go outside." "Percy, that isn't a good idea." Percy slid his legs out of bed. Annabeth and I caught him before he could crumple to the floor.

I said, "I told you ..." "I'm fine," He insisted.

He managed a step forward. Then another, still leaning heavily on me. Argus followed us outside, but he kept his distance. By the time we reached the porch, his face was beaded with sweat. But we had managed to make it all the way to the railing. It was dusk. The camp looked completely deserted. The cabins were dark and the volleyball pit silent. No canoes cut the surface of the lake. Beyond the woods and the strawberry fields, the Long Island Sound glittered in the last light of the sun. "What are you going to do?" Annabeth asked us. "I don't know." Percy replied. "I got the feeling Chiron wanted me to stay year-round, to put in more individual training time, but I'm not sure that's what I want. I also don't want to leave you both with Clarisse only." Annabeth pursed her lips, then said quietly, "I'm going home for the year, Percy." He stared at her. "You mean, to your dad's?" She pointed toward the crest of Half-Blood Hill. Next to Thalia's pine tree, at the very edge of the camp's magical boundaries, a family stood silhouetted—two little children, a woman, and a tall man with blond hair. They seemed to be waiting. The man was holding a backpack that looked like the one Annabeth had gotten from Waterland in Denver. "I wrote him a letter when we got back," Annabeth said. "Just like you suggested. I told him... I was sorry. I'd come home for the school year if he still wanted me. He wrote back immediately. We decided... we'd give it another try." "That took guts." She pursed her lips. "You won't try anything stupid during the school year, will you? At least ... not without sending me an Iris-message? Both of you?" Percy managed a smile. "I won't go looking for trouble. I usually don't have to."

"You already know my plans."

"When I get back next summer," she said, "we'll hunt down Luke. We'll ask for a quest, but if we don't get approval, we'll sneak off and do it anyway. Agreed?" "Sounds like a plan worthy of Athena."

She held out her hand. Percy shook it. She gave me a hug. "Take care, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth told Percy. "Keep your eyes open."

"You too, Wise Girl."

Then turned to me, "Good luck on your own quest Droopy."

"Of course Peabody." We watched her walk up the hill and join her family. She gave her father an awkward hug and looked back at the valley one last time. She touched Thalia's pine tree, then allowed herself to be lead over the crest and into the mortal world. "I made my decision." Percy said. "What's yours?"

"I'll be leaving camp... I'm going to look for my parent..." He looked at me in shock. "I'll be back next summer," I promised him. "I'll survive until then."

"Alone?"

I smiled at him.

"Don't you want to stay with us? Mom said---"

"I want to find my parent. I need to. I'll be fine Percy."

I helped Percy to his cabin so he could pack and went to mine. To my surprise I see a middle-aged man with an athletic figure slim and fit with salt-and-pepper hair, and a very familiar sly grin. He had bags at his foot.

"Delivery for Y/N L/N."

"Uhm..."

"Hermes." He said.

I froze and looked at him with wide eyes.

"Personally packed. As a thank you for what you're about to do." He smiled softly and handed me the bags.

"H-Huh...?"

"For helping Luke."

"I..."

Don't forget her mail!

Ooh! And tell her to bring us snacks next time we meet since it'll be often now!

No it wouldn't be often! She'll be with Luke!

"Both of you keep quiet." Pulling out a mail he handed it to me. "Luke... prayed to me telling me about your plan. He asked me to help you. I don't know what or why he did it. But I know he'll change thanks to you. So do guide him."

"Sorry you lost me at the talking air..." I blinked.

Hermes laughed and showed a caduceus. "It's just George and Martha."

"Hi?"

Hello!

Hi

"I just wanted to let you know. No god or goddess could see you. No matter how hard they tried. So your secrets.. are really secrets. Good luck on your travel."

Next time we meet you should have snacks.

Then he vanished.

Staring at the letter on my hand, I was stunned seeing it was from... my mom and dad.

Sweetie,

You've made quite a friend here.

-Mom and Dad.

I immediately knew where to look. I hurriedly took my bags not bothering to check the contents. I ran to Percy's cabin and helped him out so we could leave.

Percy got a cab and looked at me worriedly.

"I'll write you. Stay safe Arthur Curry." I ruffled his hair and watched him go.

I didn't know where to go so I just went to the first secluded area I saw.

"You have more stuffs than when you arrived." I heard someone behind me.

"You prayed to your dad. I hope he knows how to pack." I sighed turning to him. Turning around I barely made out Luke from the few days I last saw him. "You okay?"

"Do you know where to look first?"

Call upon our hound.

I whistled, I don't know why. But when I did, D/N came out of the blue. Luke looked at me and my dear dog, who was probably bigger than the hound he'd summon back then. "How do feel about L.A?" I said riding on D/N and making space behind me for Luke.

~~~END OF BOOK 1~~~

Previous | Book 1 Masterlist | Series Masterlist

END OF BOOK ONE!!! THANK YOU FOR READING YLATHB I HOPE YOU ENJOY!! I'LL PUBLISH BOOK 2 WHEN I'M DONE OR EVEN AT LEAST HAVE WRITTEN 5 CHAPTERS OF THE BOOK 2 ;))

I HOPE TO SEE YOU NEXT TIME!!!

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000 @katara720 @ynfics

[margarethelstone-2]

if I loved you less (i might talk about it more)

requested by one and only @nerdypanda3126. thanks so much!

Read on AO3!

"Taichi... You still like me, don't you?"

The young man in question raised his eyes from the book he'd been trying to read for the past quarter, and fixed them on Chihaya, confused. It wasn't just the question that surprised him, even though its content sure would have been enough to puzzle a better prepared soul.

The fact that Chihaya had barely spoken at all for most of their time together today was the main reason why he felt startled by her words now.

She really had been quiet for most of the day, even though they were spending it at his place, determined, as she herself had claimed, not to get in the way of his studies. Taichi had tried to make her realise that it wasn't what he wanted at all, that the very reason he'd invited her over was to get a break from all the reading and just relax a little. He'd explained over and over again that he needed her to be a distraction; tried – unsuccessfully – to get it into her head that she was actually doing him a favour. He knew how much of a workaholic he could be and so he specifically planned the visit as a means to enforce the necessary break he might not have taken otherwise.

He had told her all of that. And yet, she'd remained quiet.

All the way until now, that is.

And just what on earth was she going on about?

"What's with that question? You know the answer to that," he replied casually, almost dismissively, before going back to the textbook in his hand. He really had no idea what had gotten into her all of the sudden, but then again, he didn't care to delve on the subject. He knew she'd tell him anyway.

"I was just wondering," she answered, a trace of hurt ringing in her voice; Taichi needed to hold back the smile that sprang on his lips at the sight of her pout. "Is it so bad if I do?"

Taichi hummed in thought.

"Is that why you've been so quiet all day?" he asked right after. "You've been just busy considering my possible affection for you?"

"Stop with the mockery. I'm thinking of it seriously."

"Oh? And what conclusions did you come to?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I'd come to any."

He had no choice but to close the book and put it away after a statement he'd just heard. Not that he minded. Throwing it on the floor rather carelessly, he sat up straight in his corner of the couch and, resting his chin on his palm, he fixed his gaze on the girl seated by his desk on the other side of the room.

She really was being impossible today.

Well, he supposed that wasn't anything new. He'd known Chihaya long and well enough to not be fazed by the swings in her mood or the inane schemes she so often came up with. He had learnt to expect the unexpected, every day, every hour of his otherwise boring life, because that was obviously the only way to keep up with her. The one thing he had to keep doing if he still wanted to be a part of her life.

Because that was how Ayase Chihaya was.

Chihaya. His best friend. His fiercest karuta rival. The girl he'd been in love with since fourth grade of primary school and the girl who'd rejected him straightforwardly at the very beginning of their third year in Mizusawa High. The girl whom he'd thought he could never win over, on whom he'd given up again and again, fooling himself he could move on and blight the love he'd had for her since he'd been a ten year old squirt.

He sighed and shook his head, remembering her question from a moment before.

She knew damn well he was still head over heels for her.

She was his girlfriend, for sanity's sake.

"I can't believe you actually have asked, you know," he picked up with the same fake weariness he'd shown before, if only to cover his growing amusement. Seeing her very real anxiety made him assume a more solemn expression, as he asked, "Seriously, what brought this on? Are you mad about something?"

"I'm not mad," she disagreed instantly, and with good emphasis.

"Are you unhappy then? Did I do something to make you feel like that?"

Again, she denied. Now she just looked sad. "That's not it."

Wrong. She was flustered.

"Then what is it?" Taichi asked, as gently and warmly as he could. Not for the first time, he felt grateful for all the hard training his patience had received. It was obvious that Chihaya needed that from him now. "It's not like I could get over you like this, you of all people should be aware of that. You're the most important person in my life. The best companion I could think of. You know I get lonely and grumpy when I can't see you, and you know I still get absurdly jealous, even though I hate being so. And so I can't help but think there's something else I'm not doing right."

Taichi stopped there, waiting for her to, if not answer his question, then to contradict him in one way or another, at least. After all, he really was at a loss.

He thought he'd been doing a fairly good job as a boyfriend, when all was said and done. He'd already shared Chihaya's most important interest and it wasn't difficult to at least understand the new ones she'd found. He made sure to be there for her when she needed him, and tried his best to give her space when she needed that more. True, he'd had some trouble coming for help on his part, but even that was a thing of a past rather than present – certainly not something that could shock Chihaya into thinking like this.

He would think that the all-day-long date he'd come up with and seen through in celebration of their first anniversary as a couple last week was a good show of how much he still cared.

He wasn't perfect. Neither was she. But never in his life would he have thought that he'd failed to get his feelings across.

"Chihaya," he prompted once more, his voice audibly quieter. "Please tell me what it is. I can't fix it if I don't know what's broken."

She looked up from the floor she'd been glaring at for a while and met his gaze, a shadow of unease still clouding her big brown eyes. She opened her mouth to answer; she closed it instantly and looked away again, abashed. There was a hint of pink on her cheeks, and it only grew darker as the time passed, though whether it was because of embarrassment or something more alarming, Taichi couldn't tell yet.

"Chihaya–"

"It's because you never say it."

He supposed his eyes opened wider than ever, what's with the utter astonishment he felt growing inside him immediately. For a few moments, he could do nothing but stare, the craziness of the situation overwhelming enough to successfully prevent him from forming a sensible thought, and much less coming up with any kind of solution. One look at Chihaya was enough to sober him up, however.

She was distressed. She was insecure.

No matter how stupid he thought the reason to be, he could hardly allow the situation to last.

With a groan that was bound to startle her, he bent over and buried his face in his hands.

Only one thing he could do now.

"Come here," he said, his face still hidden behind one hand as he tore the other one away and beckoned her towards him. "No excuses. You'll talk later. Now just come here, please."

She did, albeit tentatively, as if afraid of the reaction he might show her. With his patience starting to run thin at last, Taichi didn't wait for her to cover the whole distance, instead reaching out and grabbing her by the wrist, only to pull her down on the couch right next to him.

And then he pulled her even closer, locking her in a bone-crushing hug.

"I'm gonna do something to you," he mumbled into her hair, his voice a mixture of laughter and complaint. "You cruel, cruel, woman. Have you no heart? Here I am, mind reeling as I try to figure out what the hell I did wrong again and you say it's because I don't say I like you enough. As if you didn't already know you've got a firmer hold of my heart than I ever did. Tell me, am I really this bad at showing you that I care that you doubt it?"

It was Chihaya's turn to growl at him, though it surely – and fortunately – didn't stop her from burying her face even deeper into his chest and digging her fingers into the shirt on his back. Again, Taichi laughed at the display, but didn't loosen his grip one bit.

That silly, unbelievable, most beloved girl.

"This and that are different things," she muttered finally in response against his buttons, her stubborn indignation probably being the only reason why he could discern the words at all. "There are different kinds of love languages. We even talked about it, you know."

"Yes. And as far as I remember, we've already established that neither of us cared for this one. So your argument doesn't work."

Well, this was a lie, or at least, it wasn’t fully true. After all, he could never get tired of hearing her say those words, to him and him only. But he didn't need it that much, not when he already knew of so many other ways in which Chihaya expressed her love towards him. He'd always assumed it was the same for her, too.

Funnily enough, he still didn't think he was mistaken.

"I've had feelings for you for the past fourteen years, you dummy, I wouldn't change my mind just because you decided to return them," he threw in only half-jokingly, as if to make sure he got his point across before moving onto the next part. "So? Care to tell me what's the source of it all?"

He felt her tense against him for a split second, only to relax in the next moment with a long, weary sigh. He waited for her to make herself comfortable in his arms, shifting ever so slightly to make it easier for them both. And then he heard her speak.

"I met up with Kana-chan the other day," she admitted weakly. "Her and Desktomu. And I guess... They're always so sweet with one another, now more than ever. I suppose... It made me feel a little jealous. But most of all, it just made me think."

"And you decided that I'd fallen out of love with you, because I don't talk like Komano does?"

"I didn't decide anything, I told you already. I just wondered if maybe I was doing something wrong to deserve that treatment. Sorry for being so terribly scared of losing you again because of my own foolishness."

Words caught in his throat as Taichi tried to protest against this new development. That last addition Chihaya had made – and more importantly, the wounded, truly uncertain voice with which she'd spoken – would have been enough to melt his heart even if he had actually been angry with her. Right now, he had to hold back from grabbing her by the chin and kissing her senseless until all the idiotic ideas evaporated from her overworked mind.

The things she did to him without as much as trying.

You evil little imp.

"They're newly-weds. You can't use them for reference," he managed to stutter out at least, conveniently ignoring the hoarseness of his own voice and the emotion that hovered behind it. "Not to mention, those two are the opposite of us when it comes to talking about feelings openly. There's a reason they got together six years before we did. Just because something works for them doesn't mean it's the best course for us to take as well."

He smiled again and planted a kiss at the top of her hair, before adding, "I still can't believe you really doubted me, though."

She huffed and pulled away, although she still didn't move from her place on the couch. They were still close; close enough for Taichi to see the light reflecting in her eyes and the blush that hadn't left her cheeks, and to reach out and comb her tangled hair with his fingers. Another gesture so full of love, even though it was but a fraction of all that she made him feel.

"Well, since I never understood what had made you fall in love with me in the first place, it's only natural that I'd have this kind of doubts."

He chuckled and she smiled on her part, her obstinacy giving it to the desire to just be with him. It was another thing Taichi was able to read in her eyes – and, knowing the feeling well enough from his own experience, he had no trouble deciphering it.

Delayed, the first part of her sentence entered his brain.

What made me fall for you, I wonder?

He didn't know. It had been so long since he’d realised his feelings after all, and longer still since those feelings had been born. Even all those years earlier, he probably wouldn’t have been able to point out the reasons clearly, never mind finding the one spark that had started it – trying to do so now seemed downright impossible.

There were so many reasons, after all.

Maybe it was because she had never considered herself a possible love interest for anyone, first when she was too engrossed in karuta and later, when she thought she didn't deserve to be one. Maybe it was her hot-headedness and her drive, and how different she'd always been from him, and yet never failed to tell him how much she'd admired and envied those qualities of his that she lacked.

Maybe it was the fact that she'd always been with him, so close and so dear and yet so impossible to grasp.

Maybe it was because she'd loved him long before either of them dared believe that was the case.

Maybe...

"Maybe," he said out loud, though in fact not loud at all, his lips moving against her forehead as he leaned in to put a kiss there, too. "Maybe, if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more."

Edging away, Taichi saw tears gathering in her eyes. He wiped them away with his thumb, his hand cupping the side of her jaw fittingly.

And then he kissed her properly.

Just like he had wanted to ever since he'd first seen her that day.

[hellomynameisbisexual]

Here's a shortlist of those who realized that I — a cis woman who'd identified as heterosexual for decades of life — was in fact actually bi, long before I realized it myself recently: my sister, all my friends, my boyfriend, and the TikTok algorithm.

On TikTok, the relationship between user and algorithm is uniquely (even sometimes uncannily) intimate. An app which seemingly contains as many multitudes of life experiences and niche communities as there are people in the world, we all start in the lowest common denominator of TikTok. Straight TikTok (as it's popularly dubbed) initially bombards your For You Page with the silly pet videos and viral teen dances that folks who don't use TikTok like to condescendingly reduce it to.

Quickly, though, TikTok begins reading your soul like some sort of divine digital oracle, prying open layers of your being never before known to your own conscious mind. The more you use it, the more tailored its content becomes to your deepest specificities, to the point where you get stuff that's so relatable that it can feel like a personal attack (in the best way) or (more dangerously) even a harmful trigger from lifelong traumas.

For example: I don't know what dark magic (read: privacy violations) immediately clued TikTok into the fact that I was half-Brazilian, but within days of first using it, Straight TikTok gave way to at first Portuguese-speaking then broader Latin TikTok. Feeling oddly seen (being white-passing and mostly American-raised, my Brazilian identity isn't often validated), I was liberal with the likes, knowing that engagement was the surefire way to go deeper down this identity-affirming corner of the social app.

TikTok made lots of assumptions from there, throwing me right down the boundless, beautiful, and oddest multiplicities of Alt TikTok, a counter to Straight TikTok's milquetoast mainstreamness.

Home to a wide spectrum of marginalized groups, I was giving out likes on my FYP like Oprah, smashing that heart button on every type of video: from TikTokers with disabilities, Black and Indigenous creators, political activists, body-stigma-busting fat women, and every glittering shade of the LGBTQ cornucopia. The faves were genuine, but also a way to support and help offset what I knew about the discriminatory biases in TikTok's algorithm.

My diverse range of likes started to get more specific by the minute, though. I wasn't just on general Black TikTok anymore, but Alt Cottagecore Middle-Class Black Girl TikTok (an actual label one creator gave her page's vibes). Then it was Queer Latina Roller Skating Girl TikTok, Women With Non-Hyperactive ADHD TikTok, and then a double whammy of Women Loving Women (WLW) TikTok alternating between beautiful lesbian couples and baby bisexuals.

Looking back at my history of likes, the transition from queer “ally” to “salivating simp” is almost imperceptible.

There was no one precise "aha" moment. I started getting "put a finger down" challenges that wouldn't reveal what you were putting a finger down for until the end. Then, 9-fingers deep (winkwink), I'd be congratulated for being 100% bisexual. Somewhere along the path of getting served multiple WLW Disney cosplays in a single day and even dom lesbian KinkTok roleplay — or whatever the fuck Bisexual Pirate TikTok is — deductive reasoning kind of spoke for itself.

But I will never forget the one video that was such a heat-seeking missile of a targeted attack that I was moved to finally text it to my group chat of WLW friends with a, "Wait, am I bi?" To which the overwhelming consensus was, "Magic 8 Ball says, 'Highly Likely.'"

Serendipitously posted during Pride Month, the video shows a girl shaking her head at the caption above her head, calling out confused and/or closeted queers who say shit like, "I think everyone is a LITTLE bisexual," to the tune of "Closer" by The Chainsmokers. When the lyrics land on the word "you," she points straight at the screen — at me — her finger and inquisitive look piercing my hopelessly bisexual soul like Cupid's goddamn arrow.

Oh no, the voice inside my head said, I have just been mercilessly perceived.

As someone who had, in fact, done feminist studies at a tiny liberal arts college with a gender gap of about 70 percent women, I'd of course dabbled. I've always been quick to bring up the Kinsey scale, to champion a true spectrum of sexuality, and to even declare (on multiple occasions) that I was, "straight, but would totally fuck that girl!"

Oh no, the voice inside my head returned, I've literally just been using extra words to say I was bi.

After consulting the expertise of my WLW friend group (whose mere existence, in retrospect, also should've clued me in on the flashing neon pink, purple, and blue flag of my raging bisexuality), I ran to my boyfriend to inform him of the "news."

"Yeah, baby, I know. We all know," he said kindly.

"How?!" I demanded.

Well for one, he pointed out, every time we came across a video of a hot girl while scrolling TikTok together, I'd without fail watch the whole way through, often more than once, regardless of content. (Apparently, straight girls do not tend to do this?) For another, I always breathlessly pointed out when we'd pass by a woman I found beautiful, often finding a way to send a compliment her way. ("I'm just a flirt!" I used to rationalize with a hand wave, "Obvs, I'm not actually sexually attracted to them!") Then, I guess, there were the TED Talk-like rants I'd subject him to about the thinly veiled queer relationship in Adventure Time between Princess Bubblegum and Marcelyne the Vampire Queen — which the cowards at Cartoon Network forced creators to keep as subtext!

And, well, when you lay it all out like that...

But my TikTok-fueled bisexual awakening might actually speak less to the omnipotence of the app's algorithm, and more to how heteronormativity is truly one helluva drug.

Sure, TikTok bombarded me with the thirst traps of my exact type of domineering masc lady queers, who reduced me to a puddle of drool I could no longer deny. But I also recalled a pivotal moment in college when I briefly questioned my heterosexuality, only to have a lesbian friend roll her eyes and chastise me for being one of those straight girls who leads Actual Queer Women on. I figured she must know better. So I never pursued any of my lady crushes in college, which meant I never experimented much sexually, which made me conclude that I couldn't call myself bisexual if I'd never had actual sex with a woman. I also didn't really enjoy lesbian porn much, though the fact that I'd often find myself fixating on the woman during heterosexual porn should've clued me into that probably coming more from how mainstream lesbian porn is designed for straight men.

The ubiquity of heterormativity, even when unwittingly perpetrated by members of the queer community, is such an effective self-sustaining cycle. Aside from being met with queer-gating (something I've since learned bi folks often experience), I had a hard time identifying my attraction to women as genuine attraction, simply because it felt different to how I was attracted to men.

Heteronormativity is truly one helluva drug.

So much of women's sexuality — of my sexuality — can feel defined by that carnivorous kind of validation you get from men. I met no societal resistance in fully embodying and exploring my desire for men, either (which, to be clear, was and is insatiable slut levels of wanting that peen.) But in retrospect, I wonder how many men I slept with not because I was truly attracted to them, but because I got off on how much they wanted me.

My attraction to women comes with a different texture of eroticism. With women (and bare with a baby bi, here), the attraction feels more shared, more mutual, more tender rather than possessive. It's no less raw or hot or all-consuming, don't get me wrong. But for me at least, it comes more from a place of equality rather than just power play. I love the way women seem to see right through me, to know me, without us really needing to say a word.

I am still, as it turns out, a sexual submissive through-and-through, regardless of what gender my would-be partner is. But, ignorantly and unknowingly, I'd been limiting my concept of who could embody dominant sexual personas to cis men. But when TikTok sent me down that glorious rabbit hole of masc women (who know exactly what they're doing, btw), I realized my attraction was not to men, but a certain type of masculinity. It didn't matter which body or genitalia that presentation came with.

There is something about TikTok that feels particularly suited to these journeys of sexual self-discovery and, in the case of women loving women, I don't think it's just the prescient algorithm. The short-form video format lends itself to lightning bolt-like jolts of soul-bearing nakedness, with the POV camera angles bucking conventions of the male gaze, which entrenches the language of film and TV in heterosexual male desire.

In fairness to me, I'm far from the only one who missed their inner gay for a long time — only to have her pop out like a queer jack-in-the-box throughout a near year-long quarantine that led many of us to join TikTok. There was the baby bi mom, and scores of others who no longer had to publicly perform their heterosexuality during lockdown — only to realize that, hey, maybe I'm not heterosexual at all?

Flooded with video after video affirming my suspicions, reflecting my exact experiences as they happened to others, the change in my sexual identity was so normalized on TikTok that I didn't even feel like I needed to formally "come out." I thought this safe home I'd found to foster my baby bisexuality online would extend into the real world.

But I was in for a rude awakening.

Testing out my bisexuality on other platforms, casually referring to it on Twitter, posting pictures of myself decked out in a rainbow skate outfit (which I bought before realizing I was queer), I received nothing but unquestioning support and validation. Eventually, I realized I should probably let some members of my family know before they learned through one of these posts, though.

Daunted by the idea of trying to tell my Latina Catholic mother and Swiss Army veteran father (who's had a crass running joke about me being a "lesbian" ever since I first declared myself a feminist at age 12), I chose the sibling closest to me. Seeing as how gender studies was one of her majors in college too, I thought it was a shoo-in. I sent an off-handed, joke-y but serious, "btw I'm bi now!" text, believing that's all that would be needed to receive the same nonchalant acceptance I found online.

It was not.

I didn't receive a response for two days. Hurt and panicked by what was potentially my first mild experience of homophobia, I called them out. They responded by insisting we need to have a phone call for such "serious" conversations. As I calmly tried to express my hurt on said call, I was told my text had been enough to make this sibling worry about my mental wellbeing. They said I should be more understanding of why it'd be hard for them to (and I'm paraphrasing) "think you were one way for twenty-eight years" before having to contend with me deciding I was now "something else."

But I wasn't "something else," I tried to explain, voice shaking. I hadn't knowingly been deceiving or hiding this part of me. I'd simply discovered a more appropriate label. But it was like we were speaking different languages. Other family members were more accepting, thankfully. There are many ways I'm exceptionally lucky, my IRL environment as supportive as Baby Bi TikTok. Namely, I'm in a loving relationship with a man who never once mistook any of it as a threat, instead giving me all the space in the world to understand this new facet of my sexuality.

I don't have it all figured out yet. But at least when someone asks if I listen to Girl in Red on social media, I know to answer with a resounding, "Yes," even though I've never listened to a single one of her songs. And for now, that's enough.

[lunaetis]

❛ you think too negatively of yourself, ❜ the thief begins, scratching the back of his head lazily before glancing off to the side. partially, he still excepts disappointment over his existence in her face. and yet, all he ever seems to find is a kindness warped into a twisted kind of sorrow. something far more human than she thinks or has been told; something that almost upsets him. nobody had the right to judge a person for emotions that were more than valid, even if they acted out because of them. but talon isn't one to dwell on unpleasant things too long, wasn't one who took the time out of his day for deep insight on emotions and motivations. instead he'll gently rest a heavy hand on velvets shoulder; mark still glowing an ominous red despite the bonded doing his best to ignore the stinging of it. this wasn't about him, never will be.

his voice is soft, gentle, caring. many things he's believed to have forgotten for a long time until they've met. and maybe they both really just were two broken people who've thought they'd forsaken their humanity only to find it again. or maybe it was only like this from his side; it's not precisely something that'd be tactful to inquire about. he isn't too sure if his touch is welcome so instead he lifts it ever so slightly to ensure the weight of it is little more than the ghost of a touch while thin, weary smile shows on otherwise untelling features. ❛ sometimes i wish you could see yourself from my eyes, i'm certain you would see how wonderful you are. always have been. ❜ it's vague in how exactly, little more than words uttered in sincerity to try conveying some sort of meaning; to let her in just a little. it's ... hard, he'll admit.

and yet when his other hand, the one who'd been idly resting 'gainst his side, comes to hide in the inside of his cloak he wonders if it even has any meaning; if his words hold any weight. he wasn't exactly the kind of person one would usually listen too, he assumes. but even if his words hold no real weight he hopes that at least the way his facade falls, the way his lips curl into a smile just the tiniest bit wider than before, the way his eyebrows cease to crease and in the way his eyes hold a spark of ... something akin to adoration for velvet; he's unused to such things. almost feels his face hurt in the way it shifts far away from every expression he usually wears. and yet he can't help it, can't fight it off or anything. doesn't even want to. ❛ i wish that one day, i'll be able to convey that to you properly, min elskede. ❜

unprompted. || always accepting

─「ベルベット」─ the SILENCE that was broken by the words from the thief did catch her attention, though when her gaze finally lifted from where she was directing them towards him, the therion was greeted by his side profile as he had already stared off into the distance. negatively, he said. velvet wanted to respond in turn that it was nothing but TRUTH in which she viewed herself, that she was nothing but a monster with both her own existence and what she had become. the hand that had DEVOURED many souls and daemons alike, how could she associated anything but negative emotions to herself when everything around her was nothing short of TRAGEDY in and out of itself ?

                VELVET kept silent, however. despite her wanting to say otherwise that she wasn't anything as wonderful as he had described, the sincerity in his tone, the tenderness in his touch, the warmth and CARE he poured in every moment his hand made contact to her own without him fearing if one day he would be the one being devoured by her ... it made the lord of calamity shake slightly, fingertips quivering and heart THUMPING inside her own ribcage. the very heart she thought had lost the right to feel always beat so loudly in his presence.

                it was difficult for him to convey his own emotions, but the fact that he still tried his HARDEST to let her feel what he was feeling. the smallest of details she caught, his facade and mask DROPPING when he was with her, those eyes which held that hint of affection, of genuine adoration she had never felt or received from anyone before.

                wordlessly, her arm reached out and looped itself around his form, pulling her into her HOLD as her limbs wrapped themselves protectively around the thief. the THERION buried her face into his shoulder, allowing her own demeanor and built up wall to fall only around him. because he allowed himself to be exposed for her, she would allow her own VULNERABILITY to be seen by him too.

                only him.

                " i might never see myself the way you see me ... talon. it's been too late to change how i am or how i see myself. i've long accepted the fact that i'm a monster ... but — "

                " — you did convey it to me ... your feelings, your emotions. everything. i see them, i feel all of them. " lips thinned, as her arms tightened around his form, being careful not to HURT him with her strength. but the way her body trembled slightly as she held him was a proof of how, for once in her life, she had become scared of losing another after she had sworn to NEVER trust ... to never loved again.

                " thank you ... for accepting me as i am, monster and all. "

                and if this monster has a heart, then it belongs to you.

.[ @deathbled ]

[n3verending16]

you were good to me - Oikawa Tooru x Reader

So, this is my first ever fanfic! Aah! Writing this was 100% a daunting experience for me, but I largely enjoyed writing it (posting it tho? *rapidly spams space button to align lyrics with the middle* *posts* *formatting is completely off and i have to do it all over again* *screams*). If you have any constructive criticism/ formatting tips, please comment it or send me a message ʕ •́؈•̀ ₎

Not requested, but certainly inspired by all the other oikawa x reader writer-chans out there (and a good friend of mine, yejin if you're reading this ily smkamsjskamssjk)!

caitlin and cindy ily too uwu

Based off "you were good to me"

All credits belong to their rightful owners

………………………………………………………………………………………

Lying, isn't better than silence

"I don't love you anymore."

Oikawa Tooru could feel the bitter aftertaste of his own words to you that night.

Floating, but I feel like I'm dying

One year later, and he still couldn't break off the chains that anchored him down every time he jumped for the ball in a match. He couldn't fly like he used to, the guilt in his gut pressing him down every time he looked towards the stands and you weren't there, cheering for him as you usually did. It was his choice, his fault. And he regretted it, although he wished he didn't.

Still, no matter where I go

At the end of every road

You had always been there for him before, whenever he felt he wasn't good enough. The gentle caress of your fingers through his hair and your soft eyes peering into his own chocolate irises had helped him get over the loss of the match and focus on getting even better than he was. On particularly harsh days, you sang him to sleep, the dulcet tones and lull of your voice relaxing him as he passed into a gentle slumber.

You were good to me

You were good to me, yeah

You had always been understanding of him whenever he ended his practice sessions late. You never asked for his time, knowing his passion for volleyball burned brighter than anything you'd ever seen before, and you wanted to support him. You hugged and congratulated him with a smile on your face when he won, and you comforted him when he lost, but most importantly, you were always there in his life. A constant he could trust, someone he could rely on, someone he could love. He'd been thankful for it. And yet, when he saw the successful application to the Argentinian Volleyball Team, he was hit with the truth. Oikawa was moving to a country on the other side of the world, and things would've gotten so much harder for the both of you. You deserved someone that was so much more than him, someone who would hold you at night, someone who could go on real dates with you, someone who could, and would, put their own time away for you. As much as it hurt him, he knew for your own good, he had to let you go. So he did it the way he hoped would hurt you the least.

I know it's easier to run

After everything I've done

Cut it off. Keep your emotions away from this. This is what's best for them.

"I'm moving to Argentina, and I think it's time I tell you something..."

"I don't love you anymore. We should end things."

You were good to me

Yeah, you were good to me

He still hears your quiet sobs that night sometimes.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Leaving, isn't better than trying

You'd spent that night lying on the couch, crying to yourself over your boyfriend who'd just walked out on you. What had you done wrong? Were you still not good enough for him? As soon as you had began to stop, reduced to sniffles, images of his silhouetted back as he walked out the front door and the cold glint in his brown eyes as he said the words that broke your heart flashed through your mind made you start bawling all over again. Had everything that had happened between the two of you been a lie? Had your presence in his life not mattered to him as much as his presence in yours?

Growing, but I'm just growing tired

You would've liked to say you were a different person than you had been one year ago. You would've liked to be spiteful and show Oikawa Tooru, international volleyball star, that you had outgrown being lovesick and was now independent and successful, with people who truly loved you. You would've liked to tell yourself that you were so, so much better off without him. But that was a lie, and you were not one to lie to yourself.

Now I'm worried for my soul

And I'm still scared of growing old

You had, honestly, tried to get over him though. You'd made yourself pass out from drunkenness only to wake up the next morning with a pounding headache and the incident more ingrained into your head. You'd busied yourself with cooking, gaming and knitting, and when that hadn't worked, considered a one-night stand from an overly amiable guy you'd just met at the corner café, after deciding against it when one of the girls standing in front of the window outside sent you two a deathly stare. You'd stacked all of his belongings and tried to burn them, until you realised your shaky hands couldn't start the lighter properly.

Even if you had forgotten him for a while, a dull, grey, reprieve from the emotions in your head, it wouldn't have been for long; the memories were everywhere. There was the book he'd accidentally spilt his bubble tea in when you snuck up behind him. There was the somewhat-lopsided drawer, a result of when it got stuck and he'd tried to force it in anyway, ending up in the sides breaking. There was the red christmas mug you'd gotten for him; only to realise he'd given you the exact same one, but green. The small bin in your room was full of milk bread wrappers. Even the study desk in the corner reminded you of days where he would try to draw something cute for you- you'd laughed and told him he had all the time in the world to improve.

You were good to me

You were good to me, yeah

That had clearly been a lie. And yet, you couldn't bring yourself to believe the words he'd said to you before he left a year ago were the truth. You had been sure that your relationship was pure, built from the ground on trust and a mutual understanding of each other- you'd respect his love for volleyball, he'd respect your desire to work harder in your career. Sure, he didn't sound like he was lying, but he was THE Oikawa Tooru- a man who held his confident and flippant façade up to the spotlights, letting the light shine on him however he pleased. You needed to know the truth, and like a burning question at the back of your mind, it never disappeared- before you contacted Iwaizumi Hajime, his best friend and your former close classmate, who told you "It was about time you knew the truth". You were glad to have heard those words.

After having a long conversation with Haji (most of it was you cussing), you wanted to hug Oikawa and punch him at the same time.

One decision led to another and the next day, you were standing on an airplane one year after the breakup with a plane ticket clutched in your hands, and a ticket to the Argentina vs Spain match folded up neatly in your purse.

"Try to let him off easy, yeah? He hasn't been at his best ever since he left you. I think he still regrets it."

………………………………………………………………………………………

And I'm so used to letting go

But I don't wanna be alone

There's noise in the stadium, filled with the audience's cheers and camera shutters going off, but drowned out by the silence in his own head. Oikawa lines the ball up to serve, watching the other team, analysing their positions. "Where should I hit?" he thinks to himself. This is his chance to take another set against Spain. If he misses this one, they will have lost the match 3-1, and it would've been his fault. He can't let that happen. The whistle blows, the ball goes up, and he's doing his jump-serve again, feeling the chains around his feet ready to snap taut like always.

But then amidst the bright lights, among the screaming crowd, he sees a flash of white and teal. Time seems to stop, and he floats in the air.

Was't that his Aoba Johsai volleyball jacket from high school? The one that he'd left behind at your house?

At first, he dismissed it quickly, thinking it was another die-hard fangirl who had one made or maybe even someone from his old team, because no way in hell could you be here right now watching him play when he'd walked out of your life and caused you so much pain and heartbreak one year ago. But then he saw the black purse, with a delicate pink floral pattern and gold highlights. The one he'd gotten for you on your birthday. He meets your wide eyes, your name is on his lips as he stares at your form.

But time moves again. And he grunts as his palm makes contact with the ball, making it fly into the corner and the other team turns and gapes at where surely there was a dent in the ground from the impact. They'd taken back a set, the score was 2-2. His team cheers wildly around him. The commentators rapidly fire off about the service ace- something he hadn't been able to do for a long time.

He's still staring at you in mid-air, but then he falls, meets the ground, his legs give out from under him and everything blurs.

You were good to me

You were good to me, yeah

You stare, lips parted as he collapses, slightly rising from your seat from worry. Had his knee gotten any better from before? Would he still be okay? Surely everything he'd worked for couldn't just end from a fall... but you realised if it did, it would've been your fault. You were, after all, the one who distracted him. Something punches you in the gut as you watch him get up, and he looks at you, the expression on his face one of pure shock and something you can't quite decipher. He keeps his eyes on yours as they shrug on his national sports jacket and carry him off, and you stare into his milky chocolate irises until the doors close behind him. Then you're pushing yourself through the crowd of seated anxious girls to find him again.

God only knows where our fears go

Hearts I've broke, now my tears flow

Oikawa finds himself in the hallway staring at the azure blue sky outside the window as a flock of birds soars past. The medics fuss over him, lifting his mildly sore leg and checking it once, twice, and he absentmindedly nods at their questions. There's a commotion at the door at the end of the hallway and he hears your muffled, strained voice. "No, please! I need to see him... you don't understand..." Eyes widening, he lifts himself up and hobbles over to the door at the end of the hallway, ignoring the protests of the baffled medics and guards. He puts his hand on the handle of the door and pushes, finding you arguing with a guard on the other side of the door. He hears his name from you, your voice giving him comfort. He smiles, albeit a broken one but still, a genuine smile, before he falls, his knee giving out again.

But this time, you're there to catch him.

You'll see that I'm sorry

Cause you were good to me

You were good to me

You hold Tooru as he sobs onto your shoulder. His tears cascade down his face as he clings to you, and he knows he doesn't deserve this, doesn't deserve you. Why had you tried to find him, after he broke your heart a year ago? You realise you're crying too when your vision blurs and all you can sense is the warmth from his skin on yours, his smell filtering the air around you. You take a deep breath in, honey vanilla with slight mint curling into your nose. People awkwardly stand by as they watch the reunion, mindful of the emotions and rawness in the air but also aware of the need to relieve pressure from his leg a bit. Eventually, someone bites the bullet and Oikawa sits down against the wall with you on his right. "You came here from Japan." Tooru hoarsely whispers. "Why?"

Before you could answer, the door opens and his teammate pops his head in, taking note of the people standing uncomfortably around.

"Hey Tooru, are you gonna be able to play?" he speaks in Spanish. He takes sight of you, a girl he's seen somewhere before, sitting next to his friend, and pauses.

"Wait, isn't that the girl on your wallpaper? I thought you said- never mind." He carefully speaks in broken English.

"Anyways, coach says if you're still fine we can send you in." You blink as Tooru puts his arm around you, a pout evident on his face. "I'm pretty sure I'll be able to play (the medic nods along in agreement), just give me a few moments." he answers. His teammate hesitates, nods, and closes the door. Tooru turns his head and rests his head on your shoulder, his fluffy brown hair tickling your neck. You nearly want to cry at what his teammate just told said. "Oh, Tooru..."

"You still haven't answered the question," he tells you. "Iwa-chan must've told you that I left because you deserved more than someone who couldn't be here for you. I don't deserve you, y/n-chan. You deserve to be happy, and... I'm not the one." He tucks away your air behind your ear. "But now that you're here, I can't help but want to be selfish. I want us to be together. I still want you."

You can't help laughing quietly at him, the little pout forming on his face again. "Oh Tooru... you wanted me to be happy. And you thought leaving me so brashly would achieve that? You forgot one very, very important thing." You lean into his shoulder, and play with his calloused fingers.

And now I'm closing every door

Cause I'm sick of wanting more

"If I'm ever to be truly happy..." You tell him, shifting yourself so you're cupping his soft cheeks and looking into his chocolate eyes. "Then you are, absolutely, essential in my life." His heart leaps, soaring at your words. After all that time, you still...

You tut at the dreamlike, adorable expression on his face. "C'mon, Tooru. Don't cry on me now. You've still got a match to win, don't you?" He breaks himself out of his reverie as you lightly pinch his cheeks, and grins ear to ear as you begin to move back to the stands. "Wait, wait." He shrugs his volleyball jacket off his shoulders and hands it to you. "Wear this over that, I want everyone to know you're still mine." You rolls your eyes at his childish request, "Your fangirls are going to kill me, I swear," but comply nevertheless. He's still smiling as he watches his oversized jacket swish around at your mid-thigh as you walk towards the doors. Anything else could come after the match, but for now, this was good enough for him.

You were good to me

You were good to me, yeah

For the rest of that match, for the first time, Oikawa Tooru flies. They do eventually win, 3-2. He's never felt more ecstatic as he pulls you in happily, kissing all over your face and handing you his Most Valuable Player award as you giggle from his childlike antics. The reporters rapidly take note of everything and theres a collective groan from the gaggle of fangirls somewhere, but it's you and him both in your own little world.

Swear I'm different than before

I won't hurt you anymore

Life goes on. You fly back to Japan, with a promise that he would never shut you out again. Sure, you would've preferred it if he was next to you, but you called and messaged each other so frequently that you found you had little to worry about. In rare spaces of time, he flew back to Japan to meet family and friends before spoiling you on dates, decorating your house ("Hey, we need to retake this photo! I'm even better looking now!") or cuddling on the couch together. Every relationship had its downsides, and long-distance relationships were even more a pain, but you were more than ready to take the troubles on if it meant you could still see his smiling face through the messenger call at 1am in the morning.

And you knew this time, he wouldn't stop you from trying.

Cause you were good to me