#i know i’ve had this kind of slump before and i too shared it here

[shuafiles]

lie to girls [l.jn] preview

SUMMARY | it was hard watching jeno struggle with his relationship, but it was even harder when he ran to you for comfort every time. especially when you, his long-time best friend, have been in love with him for the longest time. but when jeno starts lying about where he’s going and who he’s with, you realize the biggest lie might be the one you’re telling yourself—that he’ll ever choose you. or girls will cry, and girls will lie, and girls will lose their goddamn minds for you.

PAIRING | nonidol!jeno x afab!reader

CONTENT | university au, angst, best friends to ?, aespa members included, cheating, swearing, drinking, smut (not everything is included in the teaser yet but just so you know whats in store)

WORDS | 855 (just this teaser)

A/N | sneak peek of what im working on! im planning on making this a looong one but i was too excited so i decided to share without spoiling too much. let me know if you like it! total wc is still unknown and the release date will hopefully be before november ends. also its my birthday today so heres my gift to you :D

“hey.” jeno greeted you, standing at your front door, which only meant one thing. they fought again.

you pushed the door wider, letting him inside. he looked like a mess, his shoulders slumped, dark bags around his eyes, hair disheveled. even from afar, you could tell he was going through something. his phone was in his hand, checking for notifications, but he let out a huge sigh when the home screen was empty.

“do i even want to know?” you prodded, eyes watching him as he plopped down on the couch. his head tilting back on the headrest, head filled with thoughts.

“you know how she is.” jeno mumbled, rubbing his face with his hands. “said she needed some space.”

unfortunately, i do know how she is. jeno’s girlfriend, karina. they’ve been together since first year of college when jeno met her at some random party. they were the kind of couple on campus that, at first glance, seemed perfect, but you knew all too well what kind of chaos haunted them in private. you were too familiar with how she behaved with jeno; most of the time, you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

jeno didn’t even have to say anything when you saw him at your front door. you have grown accustomed to this pattern: the same heartache, apologies, and cycle of hope and disappointment. and every time it occurred, jeno ended up here—at your door, at your couch, sulking.

you wanted nothing more than to scold jeno for letting himself get run over by her, but you kept your lips sealed. deciding that giving him comfort and support was probably what he needed right now.

“again, huh?” you sat down on the opposite side of him, tucking your legs beneath you.

“i don’t even know what that means, y/n.” jeno sighed, running his hand through his hair. he lifted his head to face you, gaze soft as he held eye contact with you. “one minute, everything’s perfect, and we’re fine, but suddenly, i’ve apparently done something wrong, and she won't even tell me.” his voice cracked, hopelessness evident in his tone. it pained you to see him like this. how many times is he going to let her do this to him?

“well, did you do something wrong?” you asked, but you knew jeno too well, he wouldn’t do anything to sabotage his relationship. sure, he has made mistakes in the past, but he was a good person, a good friend, and a good lover, you suppose.

jeno stayed silent for a moment, recalling if he had done something to make his girlfriend upset. “i–no, at least i don’t think so.” he shook his head, “i’ve just been busy with classes, but i always make time for her. and everything we’re together, i always try to make it special. you know?”

you nodded along to his words, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. you have heard this story countless times, so you could probably recite it to him. it wasn’t unusual for karina to act like this; she’d get upset over something vague, and then jeno would beat himself up for it, but he’d still bend over backward to get her back.

“maybe she’s just going through something?” you said, trying to think of what to say to ease his mind.

you and karina were acquaintances at best. it’s not like you didn’t try to be her friend, but something about her attitude just seems so off-putting to you. you weren’t entirely sure if karina was fond of you either. of course, you never told jeno any of these. you knew he wouldn’t listen, not when it comes to her. he loves her. he’d return to her every time, like a moth to a flame. and you’d be there, picking up the pieces when he got burned.

“i wish she’d just tell me what’s on her mind instead of leaving me wondering what i did wrong.” his face twisted into frustration with a mix of confusion.

“jen, you know i can’t help you if you don’t tell her what you’re feeling.” this time, you couldn’t hold back. “you’re supposed to tell her these, not me.”

jeno flinched at your words, somehow unsatisfied with your advice. “yeah… you’re right.”

you watched his expression, his eyebrows furrowed while he was deep in thought. “i’m sorry if it’s not what you wanted to hear.” you hesitated, knowing you were treading dangerous waters. “i just think… you deserve someone who actually appreciates you.”

jeno stayed silent, processing your words as if he hadn’t told himself that a million times. but for some stupid reason, he couldn’t keep it in his head. he looked down at his phone, tapping the screen once more, but to his disappointment, there was still nothing. “i know you’re just looking out for me, y/n. but��� i just can’t give up on her. not yet.”

and just like that, you could feel him slipping away, back into her orbit, leaving you alone with all the things you couldn’t say, wondering when he would run back to you again.

[saetoru]

[ BUSINESS DEAL ] DILUC RAGNVINDR.

“has anyone ever told you how beautiful your eyes are?”

diluc rolls his eyes as you giggle at the slurred comment, watching you mumble a quiet thank you as you refill the glass of the drunk stranger before you. he can’t help but huff as he takes a sip from his own glass, fighting the urge to knock what must be the millionth drink from the man’s hand.

it’s valentine’s day.

meaning, diluc gets to watch dozens of single men drink away their miseries and hit on you while he sits in his stool at the far corner of cat’s tail, swirling his glass of grape juice with a frown on his face. maybe he should be running his own tavern instead of watching you, but with every sly comment you get, he gets less concerned with angel’s share and more concerned with keeping an eye on you.

and you’re sweet—almost too sweet for your own good, laughing each comment off and maybe even throwing a flirty one back here and there. it’s never anything too serious, but he can’t read you, can’t tell if you like the attention or if you’re simply too kind to fully reject the advances of a guy after he’s had one too many drinks.

still, whether you enjoy the attention or not, diluc can’t help but feel a pang of…jealousy? is that what it is? he’s not too sure—but he’s long come to terms that there’s something a bit more than simple fondness in his heart for you, but he’s almost certain you don’t feel the same.

and he doesn’t blame you—you’re gentle and kind with something fierce about you underneath it all. you’re perfect and you should look for such, not settle for the distant and troubled man that he is.

“more grape juice?” you pop up before him and break his train of though before he even registers you’ve moved. he’s been too focused on glaring holes into the side of the man’s head from just a few seconds ago.

“i’ve had enough,” he mumbles, “but thank you.”

“you know, master diluc,” you grin, eyes crinkling in that ever so precious way they always do.

“i’ve already told you, you don’t have to keep referring to me as—”

“if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you’re trying to ruin business here.”

he blinks, and you giggle, and somewhere deep in his mind, he knows that you’re just messing with him. still, a more panicked part of him wonders if you think lowly of him enough to really think that.

“now, why would i do that?” he raises a brow, and for a fleeting second, at the sound of your soft chuckle, his heart does a painful squeeze and his palms grow sweaty.

“i guess you could call us business rivals,” you hum.

“i wouldn’t say so,” he shrugs, “although i wouldn’t mind having you tend to my own tavern instead.”

“oh, really? then—”

and then you’re interrupted, and there’s a figure slumping onto the stool beside diluc and leaning over the counter, pulling your attention off of him and onto the stranger that so rudely intruded the conversation he’s been waiting to have with you all night.

“and what’s a pretty face like you doing in a place like this?” the stranger purrs, and diluc’s grip on his glass gets tighter, the frown on his lips tugging into a deep scowl.

“oh,” you say shyly, looking down with a nervous laugh, “what can i get you, sir?”

“how much for a date?” the man grins.

before you can answer, diluc cuts in before he can really even think.

“nothing you could afford.” truthfully, he’s as shocked as you, but he ignores the confused look you give him in favor of glaring at the man that finally turns to him, watching as the stranger’s eyes widen slightly with recognition as soon as they fall onto the long, red locks.

there’s a slight bit of pride underneath all the irritation—which is unlike him. diluc doesn’t care for fancy titles and recognition, he doesn’t care of the rumors and gossip and he doesn’t care about what his name around town might be. but for some odd reason, he finds there’s a bit of pride when the man scurries away dejected—like there’s no doubt that between him and someone like diluc ragnvindr, the choice is clear.

he wonders if you feel that way, if in a tavern full of men, he’d be the one you’d pick. there’s an ache in his heart at the thought, a desperation he’s never felt before to be picked—to be wanted.

and maybe, even with everything he has, he has nothing at all if you’re not his too.

“see?” you ask, “you’ve definitely got it out for us, haven’t you? scaring off my customers.”

your voice pulls him back to reality, and now he’s blushing as he realizes he has to explain his actions to you as you stare at him expectantly. he almost wants to promptly exit, maybe never even leave the winery and show his face near here again so he doesn’t have to explain that yes, diluc ragnvindr, the most eligible bachelor of mondstadt, is jealous.

“i-it’s not like that,” he tries to explain, “i just…”

“just wanted make our prices seem too high to our customers?” you raise a brow.

there’s amusement in your eyes—and he thinks for a moment that you must be enjoying watching him squirm, that you must enjoy making him trip over his words and scramble to find an appropriate explanation.

“no!” he says quickly, “i’m sure you know just as well as i do that men in taverns are hardly respectable ones, so i just—”

“and do tell, master diluc,” you come closer, coming face to face with your nose almost brushing against his. he can see the flecks in your eyes and feel your lingering warmth from this close, making his heart stop completely and his hand clutch his glass so tight, he wonders how it’s not shattered yet. “who is a respectable man?”

“well—”

“perhaps sir kaeya is more suitable—”

“certainly not,” he scowls, missing the way you bite back a grin, “the knights are hardly trustworthy either.”

“so then who might that leave,” you wonder out loud, “ah, i see. then that leaves you, doesn’t it?”

diluc thinks you’re trying to kill him. he thinks you must be trying to get rid of him and hurt his business instead, because why else would you make his poor heart palpitate like this? there’s a satisfied smirk on your face, a smug and all too mischievous one that makes him wish he’d have downed a few glasses of wine instead of juice.

“and if it does?” to his credit, his voice is still smooth and confident, the only remaining thread of dignity he has left for the night.

“well, with the wine industry at your fingertips, you must be able to afford most things rather easily.”

and perhaps, all this time, you really have felt the same—he thinks it’s certainly a possibility when your forehead meets his and your noses brush.

“i suppose so,” he hums, and before he can change his mind, he takes a chance. “well then, name your price for a date.”

he watches the way your eyes soften ever so slightly up close, and with a bright grin, you turn your head, pecking his cheek swiftly before pulling away.

“it’s on the house,” you say cheekily, “consider us business partners.”

this is all bc bub sent me a diluc tik tok that made me just about pass out

[ithebookhoarder]

Javier Peña req (and Steve as bestie). Y/n is their partner and is feeling extremely burnt out; running on empty, coffee, cigarettes and not much else. She’s barely sleeping or eating and constantly has a tight chest and racing heart. They both know something is up with her but she just shrugs it off until one day, Javi is out on a raid and she reaches her breaking point. Steve manages to get her home but can’t reach Javi until he gets back to the embassy etc. Also, please could you throw in a little Carrillo cause😍

Burned Out (Javier Peña x F!Reader)

A/N: I’ve missed Narcos and my DEA boys, so thank you for this prompt, whoever sent this in. I really appreciate it. I’ve been in a bit of a slump recently with writing for this blog, so it’s great to have something to focus on and pour myself in to - hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, alcohol, reference to depressive / self destructive behaviour, description of a panic attack, mild smut, canon-typical violence, death, reference to drugs / overdosing. 

Masterlist

You knew exactly when it started. When you began to feel yourself beginning to sink downwards into the quicksand that was your life. 

It was a bad day… well, a worse day, if you were being honest, given that life in general in Bogota was hard and full of bad days that left you feeling numb inside. Whereas you were normally able to banish the darkness by spending time with the friends you had collected since your arrival to the city, not even Javi’s gentle kisses or Steve’s dirty jokes or Connie’s homemade deserts could do the trick. 

The day had been bad for many reasons.

One, you’d lost a contact with direct links to Escobar, that you’d spent weeks working on. 

Two, you had lost them in a drive-by shooting that had killed not only them but countless civilians too. 

Three, some of your asshole colleagues decided to spill coffee all over your files meaning you were forced to work late to re-type them up for a briefing the following morning. Even though you had got it done, you knew you had likely missed some details, the ink far too smudge to even begin to try and understand what had previously been written. 

However, that day had only been the start of it. The start of the downwards spiral you found yourself tumbling into. 

Sure, the others had noticed there was a change about you. Yet, it wasn’t as if they knew what was causing it or how to fix it. 

Javi especially knew what you were like - you were like him after all. Spilling your guts wasn’t your natural reaction to handling things. You kept your emotions bottled up inside of you, cramming more and more in, forcing that lid to remain firmly screwed in place even as the pressure began to build. 

And if the lid did threaten to pop off? Well then, you lost yourself in him. In the love that existed between you, and the intimate knowledge you shared of one another. After all, Javi had said it himself, “who needed therapy when you had sex and good whiskey?” 

A night of passionate fucking was all it took to take the edge off… to let a little pressure escape, delaying your inevitable eruption… But that was just it; you would erupt. It was inevitable. There was no way on earth you could sustain the relentless routine of long hours spent at work, with coffee doing its best to act as a replacement for your bed. 

Hell, you could feel the toll it was taking on you both mentally and physically, from the way your hands shook slightly, to the way your chest felt too tight to breathe sometimes. Then there was the fact your clothes were starting to get baggy, whereas they’d once clung to your frame like they’d been tailored for you. 

“Here,” Javi had smiled one afternoon. You could smell the sandwich in his hand before he even set it down on the desk in front of you, accompanied by a packet of chips and a can of your favourite soda. “Grabbed that for you on our way back. Figured you’d forget lunch - again.” 

A weak smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the kind gesture. “Thanks, Javi.” 

“Anytime, hermosa.” He said it so calmly and easily that you felt your heart skip a beat as you realised how lucky you were to have someone who cared about you so deeply. It was why you made sure to tear a corner off of the sandwich and pop it in your mouth. 

The relieved nod Javi granted you told you it was the reaction he’d been waiting for, as he took a step back to let you finish eating and working in peace. 

You knew he’d be back to check you’d finished it in a matter of minutes. So, you were quick to chuck the rest of his lunch in the waste paper bin behind you, burying it further under a pile of discarded documents you’d already finished looking through. 

It was fine. You’d eat later. Maybe you’d even try and cook dinner for you and Javi… an apology for being so distant lately… 

Somehow, despite lacking the gift of prophecy, you knew deep down that that was unlikely to happen. Just as you knew it was unlikely Javi would even make it home tonight. For the last week straight, both he and Steve had been called out on some last minute, late night errands by Carillo - not that you minded all that much. 

Not having Javi’s arms to fall into meant you felt less guilty about working late yourself. About only making it back to your empty apartment long enough for a quick shower and a power nap each night. 

It was ironic to think of Carillo, though, given that your brief conversations with the Colonel in question had been the closest you’d come to finally releasing some of the hurt and the pain inside of you. 

You didn't know what it was about him, but somehow, the Colonel had an ability to draw you out. To make you open up and share things you would never otherwise dream of. 

Maybe it was his candour? You’d noticed that about him since you'd started working together; he had a blunt demeanour, saying what he thought regardless of the affect it could have on another person. 

Now, it wasn't done with malice, per say, but rather as the result of a man who had the weight of an entire army on his shoulders and an impossible task. He just didn't have the time to bullshit anyone - especially when you both lived in a city full of people all too willing to lie and cheat. 

It also came from a weird sense of respect, of seeing people as equals, deserving of the truth just as he expected the same in return. No matter how painful it may be.

Needless to say, it was one of the reasons you'd grown to respect the man - and dare you even say, like. 

Still, when he decided to loiter on the other side of your desk, late one night, you felt yourself stiffen, as if suddenly all too aware of every little gesture your body made and what it gave away.

The Colonel missed nothing.  

“You look like shit.”

Wow. Don’t beat around the bush. 

“Jeez, your wife married a charmer, Colonel,” you scoffed, dragging on your cigarette, sparing him a fleeting glance. “Speaking of, doesn’t she want you back home? Or do you prefer my company that much that you’d rather stand at my desk at 11 o’clock at night?” 

“She’s out of the city, visiting her parents,” he rebuffed, clearly not taking the bait as he dropped into the empty seat opposite. In fact, he decided to reach across and steal one of the cigarettes from the packet on your desk, lighting it for himself in a gesture that made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere for now.  

“Good for her.”

“Yes, it is. I think time away from this place is good for everyone.” 

You could feel the accusation lacing his words, as well as the heat from his continuous stare. “Then why didn’t you go with her? Not enough vacation days?” 

He scoffed, a bitter smirk twisting his lips upwards. “You’re funny; I can see why Peña likes you so much. Like calls to like, as they say, even if you try and hide it behind that smile of yours.” 

You bit back a laugh. “What can I say? I lucked out in that department and got my Mom’s smile. My sister was not so fortunate. She always had my dad’s features - meaning she looked more often than not like she was sucking on a lemon.” 

“This is the sister that died from an overdose, correct?”

“Yes.” 

“The anniversary is this week, is it not?” 

He asked it so calmly and casually that anyone would have thought he’d asked you what the weather was like outside, or what your favourite record to listen to was. 

At least his concern now made sense. It was the kind of detail he would remember, and you were honestly more surprised by the fact it had taken until now for him to bring it up. 

He’d probably been itching to ask you about it all day, aware of the date even if your two partners were not. Well, they might have been, but neither had said anything which was your preference if you were being honest. Hence your rapidly cooling demeanour towards your colleague. 

“I’m fine, if that’s what you're trying to fish about for, Colonel,” you sighed, staring back down at your desk again in an attempt to dismiss him. “You don't have to worry about me. I’m good. Thanks. So can I get back to work in peace? Or did you have some other question for me?” 

Carillo sighed, simply choosing to smoke his cigarette, letting the tension linger along with the steadily growing haze around you both. 

He didn't need to say the words aloud; his actions did all the talking for him as he reached over and helped himself to a file off of you desk. 

He didn't buy this ‘calm, cool, and collected’ act you were pedalling. Not for a second - something his stare alone gave away, even if he refused to say it. Instead, he chose to read, and work, and smoke along side you so that you would not be alone. 

He had his eyes on you... watching and waiting for the moment that your carefully constructed walls came crashing down... the only question was would they crush you in the process?

It was about a month later that the inevitable happened; that you finally hit rock bottom. 

It had just been a causal remark that did it, of all things. A casual remark that sent you tipping over the edge. 

You had just returned from lunch and hadn’t even sat back down at your desk yet when you noticed that someone was missing.  

“Yo, Steve?” you queried, quickly glancing up at the empty seat next to you. “Where did Javi go?” 

Now, you couldn't be a hundred percent certain what Steve said next but you knew he’d said something about Carillo, a lead, and a raid ... 

“What?”

“I said, Javier went with him,” Steve repeated, staring at you with growing concern. You realised he must have already repeated himself. “What? Why? What is it?” 

“Javi went too? He… he’s there? On that raid?” 

“Yes, y/n, that’s what I just said - hey! Where you going?” 

You didn’t even realise your feet had started moving, not until you heard Steve’s confusion as he yelled after you. 

But you didn't stop.

You couldn’t stop, not until you were outside - not until you were far enough from that place that you could actually stop and fucking breathe. 

When did it become so hard to breathe? 

When had the room become so small? 

Why did your mind suddenly feel the need to go to the darkest place possible? 

It was just a raid... one of hundreds Javi had gone on since arriving here in the country, just as you had also gone on your fair share. So why was your head suddenly picturing him... lying there... injured, or worse... dead. 

The number of bodies you’d stared at, lying in the streets in a macabre tableau that had become all too familiar by now - all part of this fucking job. A job you signed up for, hoping to vanquish the bastards who had taken so much from you and those you loved… yet, every day, it seemed you had failed as more and more innocent people suffered… and to think, that Javi - the man you loved more than anything - who you had neglected terribly to the point you couldn't actually remember the last time you’d woken up next to each other - could be amongst them… 

It brought you to your knees. 

“Whoah, y/n. Easy. What’s wrong?” 

Steve’s voice sounded distant, as if you have been submerged beneath water. Yet, you could tell he was beside you, dropping down onto the kerb before hauling you close. The warmth of his touch was enough to tether you to him, to reality, as everything around you seemed to spin in dizzying circles.

You could feel it as his hands rose, cupping your cheeks, turning your head and trying to get you to look at him. 

When you finally did, he could see immediately that your eyes were glassy, like you weren’t really seeing or hearing him. 

He knew that look. 

“Y/N,” Steve murmured in a soothing voice. “Y/N, look at me. Look at me.” 

He paused, waiting until your eyes trained themselves on his face, some of the cloudiness starting to dissipate. 

“Good, that’s good. Now breathe. Just breathe,” he instructed, taking a few deep breaths himself to show you how.

It took you a moment or two, but you eventually became fully aware of your surroundings and what your friend was telling you to do. 

Following his lead, you took a few shuddering breaths, then a few more. You kept breathing until you could feel the racing of your heart slow and the fear that had felt crippling just moments before begin to ease.

You were exhausted.

Wiping at your face, you tried to banish the tears that had left a salty trail burning down your cheek.

Steve doesn't say anything for a long minute, instead choosing to pull you into his side and light up a cigarette, which he was quick to offer you.

“T... thank you.”

You sat like that for a while... just watching people and cars passing by, smoking like two people on a perfectly ordinary break.

No one bothered to stop and ask you two questions. Hell, no one even shot a glance in your direction, everyone too busy with their own business to stop and give a shit about yours.

So you sat. 

And smoked. 

And said nothing... not until the cigarette was nothing more than a stub.

Steve was quick to take it from you, before it could burn your fingers. Tossing it aside, it had clearly served its purpose. 

He stood and offered you a hand. 

His face left no room for debate as he stated calmly, “Come on, I’m taking you home. Now.” 

“Come on. A couple more steps, Y/N,” Steve urged, guiding you up the stairs to your apartment. 

His hand was warm, firm even, as it pressed against your lower back. 

He’d been like this since the moment you’d left the embassy, steering you and hovering over you like he expected you to simply topple over at the slightest breeze. 

It was touching, yet irritating all at once - a sentiment you were too busy trying to put one foot in front of the other to even attempt to unpack. You were also just too goddamn tired. 

“Here we are.” Steve’s words startled you. “Home sweet home.” 

You didn’t remember giving him the keys, but you must have as he opened the door a second later and herded you inside. 

There was emotion in your throat - threatening to spill from you. You were holding on by a thread and he knew it. Just as Carillo knew it, and possibly Connie too - 

Wait, Connie?

You blinked as you realised that at some point the woman had also entered your home, most likely having been summoned by Steve on the drive home. 

You wanted to feel guilty at the thought of her being dragged into your mess, but you were honestly too tired to feel anything other than grateful as she hurried over to you, offering you a cup of what you assumed was tea, as well as two pills. 

To help take the edge off, she explained, urging you to take them. Doctor’s orders. 

It was impossible to miss the way that they were both staring at each other - sharing anxious glances as you swallowed the tablets and dutifully sipped the tea. 

They were worried about you. Hell, you were worried about you, and Javi, and Steve, and everyone else you loved and cared about - that was what had got you in this mess in the first place. 

Damn it.

You heard them say as much as you marched yourself to your bedroom, claiming you were going to try and get some rest whilst you waited for news. 

If they bought it, you couldn’t tell, but neither protested as you left them. 

They simply let you go, allowing you the space and privacy to crawl into your bedroom, bury yourself in the unmade sheets, and lie down for a while. The medication had clearly started to work as you felt heavy... tired... 

Lying there, you could hear their voices... faint murmurs drifting down the hall. 

You caught only snippets as they tried and failed to keep their voices down, just as your parents had once done when you were just a kid. Still, despite their efforts, you caught enough to know that there was still no word from Javi, or about the raid he went on. 

“-called Javi- no reply.”

“Carillo - try again -”

“-worried about her - stressed.” 

Eventually, the words began to fade away, replaced instead by your body's sudden need to sleep. It was pointless to fight the drugs now in your system, or the comfort of being wrapped in the bed sheets that still smelled of Javi... not even you were strong enough to fight it as you felt yourself drifting off into sweet oblivion.

"Sweetheart?"

You must have still been dreaming - that was the thought that crossed your mind as you swore you heard Javi's voice.

"Javi?" you moaned, fighting against the grogginess that greeted you as you tried to open your eyes.

Despite the fact it was clearly now dark out, you could easily make out the face in front of you, illuminated from behind by the bedside lamp. The sight was almost angelic - as if some divine being had deigned to answer your prayers and return the love of your life back in to your arms.

“It's ok, I'm here, sweetheart,” Javi purred again, brushing your hair back behind your ear and pulling you close. “I’m right here, ok? In one piece - promise. The raid went off without a hitch. Even snagged ourselves a new asset for you to take a crack at.”

Your eyes shimmered with tears as you quickly burrowed into his chest. You didn't really hear what he was saying, too busy focusing on the fact that he was here to say it at all - here - alive - in your arms. 

The reality hit you as you began to let it pour out of you: how relieved you were, how much you loved him. You also grumbled something about fucking telling you when he next decided to run off on a raid without so much as 'goodbye' - else you’d shoot him yourself. 

“I’m sorry, carino. I am.”

And you believed him. 

"I love you, Javi. So much."

"I love you too," he purred, "and I'm so sorry, I knew you were struggling, but when Steve told me-"

He didn't get to finish whatever the hell he'd been about to say. You didn't let him.

Instead, your lips surged hungrily towards his and as only Javi could, he kissed you back, soft and slow... as if desperate to reassure you through actions alone.

You felt him chuckle into your mouth as you grew impatient, grinding your hips against him in a silent plea for him to fill you. To join you. To bury himself, and the day you'd both had, in a moment of bliss.  

It was a special kind of neediness, reserved for just him, and one that was only sated once he had fully joined with you, as one being. Safe. Whole.

Yes, in an ideal world he would have waited until after talking to you to lose himself in such a way. After all, Steve and Connie had filled him in on the troubling turn of events that his absence today had triggered - and he'd be lying if he said the idea didn't scare him shitless, that you had broken down so completely...

He could only thank God that Steve had been there for you - especially when he couldn't be himself.

But he was here now... and you had time to start trying to make sense of this mess. Together. Carillo had assured him of that, informing him in no uncertain terms that you both had the next few days off from work. He didn't want to see either one of you back in the office until you'd begun to sort through the mountain of shit you were buried under.

So, yes. If you wanted to lose yourself for tonight, to use him to forget the world outside for a perfect moment, then he was only too happy to oblige.

He’d wait until the morning to have a proper conversation. 

He’d go down and whip you up some breakfast before trying to get you to open up to him about everything that had happened today… about the worries and concerns you’d been keeping locked away inside of you. 

Then, after you’d fallen in to pieces in his arms, he could try and start to put you back together again. As a team.

[averysleepdeprivedaustralianman]

Soo uh..Forgot to post whoops!

Decided to just uh..Make a continuation of the Scarlet's Return..Heh?

Scarlet's Return-A week later!

One Week Later After Pearl's return–

The warm light of the Hermitcraft sun spilled through the windows of Pearl’s base, illuminating the room with a comforting glow. The clinking and humming of the redstone contraptions that ran throughout her base had returned to a soothing rhythm—a stark contrast to the chaos still echoing in her the horrid events of Double life.

Pearl stood infront of her storage room—absentmindedly organizing her chests peacefully. Her hands moved mechanically, sorting stacks of quartz and sandstone, but her mind was elsewhere. Every so often, she would glance at the corner of the room where the crown sat on a pedestal, untouched since that night.

Her chest tightened every time she looked at it. She wasn’t ready to deal with it. Not yet..

A light knock at the door broke her thoughts. Before she could respond, Gem poked her head in, her ever-present smile lighting up the room.

"Morning, sunshine! How’s it going?" Gem chirped, stepping inside with a basket of food in her hands. She didn’t wait for an answer as she pulled pearl away from the storage room not letting her speak. "I brought breakfast~You better not tell me you’ve skipped it again."

Pearl managed a weak chuckle as she was drgaged into a chair by gem–"I was going to eat—Eventually.."

Gem rolled her eyes but kept her tone light. "Sure you were. Here—take this." She handed Pearl a slice of freshly baked pumpkin pie. "Eat first, argue later."

Pearl took the slice, the sweet smell triggering a pang of nostalgia. "Thanks, Gem.."

Gem settled into a chair across from her, leaning her elbows on the table. "So, how’s the head? Any less stormy today?"

Pearl hesitated, poking at the pie with her fork. She didn’t want to lie, but the truth felt too heavy to share fully. "Better. A little," she admitted finally.

Gem studied her for a moment, her usual playful demeanor softening. "That’s good. Progress is progress, Pearlie. Don’t rush it."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds the faint clatter of cutlery and the soft rustle of leaves outside. It was peaceful, but Pearl couldn’t shake the tension coiled inside her.

Finally, Gem broke the silence. "You know," she began, her voice light, "I’ve been thinking.."

"Uh-oh," Pearl teased, though her voice lacked its usual spark. "What kind of trouble are you plotting now?"

Gem grinned but leaned forward, her tone shifting to something more sincere. "It’s not trouble, I promise. Just… I think you need to get out of here!–Away from your base, away from everything. Even just for a little while."

Pearl frowned, leaning back to her sit, crossing her arms over her chest. "Why though?"

"Because you’ve been stuck in this loop.." Gem said, gesturing gently around the room. "You’ve been here, alone, staring at that crown like it’s going to give you answers. And I get it, Pearlie—I really do..But I think you need to breathe a little. Feel the sun on your face, see something new. Maybe remind yourself there’s more to this world than what’s in these walls."

Pearl’s gaze dropped to the table, her fingers curling against the wood. "I don’t know, Gem. I don’t feel like I can just… leave everything behind. Not right now."

"You’re not leaving it behind," Gem said softly. "You’re just stepping away for a bit. Clearing your head. And you won’t be alone—I’ll be with you. No pressure, no expectations. Just… fresh air and some time to think."

Pearl looked up, meeting Gem’s eyes. The hope there was impossible to ignore, but there was no pity—just patience and care. She exhaled slowly, her shoulders slumping.

"Fine" Pearl said finally, her voice quiet but steady. "I suppose I'll come-"

Gem’s face lit up with a grin so bright it was contagious–Not even letting pearl finish she cutted her off—"That’s the spirit! Meet me at the portal in an hour. And pack light—we’re going somewhere new!"

As Gem left, humming a cheerful tune, Pearl stared at the half-eaten pie in front of her. The tightness in her chest hadn’t fully gone away, but for the first time in weeks, it felt like she could breathe a little easier.

Perhaps this was what she needed—a moment to step away, to see the world beyond her base, and maybe even start to heal..

(Meybe I'll make a dessertduo fic later not sure)

[peaches2217]

⚡️

For the longest time, I’ve always headcanoned Peach being afraid of thunderstorms, since that’s usually the kind of weather Bowser likes to strike in.

⚡ - Scared of thunderstorms

You, my friend, are a genius.

Hiding

~~~

As soon as the Shiverian ambassador took his leave and the doors shut behind him, Peach slumped back in her seat. Typically she waited at least another ten seconds, just to make sure she was truly alone, but her mind was reeling so violently she could feel it in her bones. All she wanted was a moment’s rest.

Discussing trade routes and the renewal of international contracts while also pretending nothing was wrong in the face of constant threat proved difficult.

“Are you alright?” the most tender, most compassionate voice she’d ever had the honor of knowing inquired, and instantly she felt just a bit lighter. 

Mario had already relaxed his attentive and dignified posture in favor of stretching his arms over his head. This was normally where he’d crack wise about his aching muscles, how agonizing it was to stand in one spot for so long, his eagerness to spend the rest of the day on the move, but he offered nothing of the sort today. His eyes had caught hers during the meeting more than once. He knew she was in distress.

And why was the great Mushroom Princess in such distress? What threat loomed over her and caused her endless torment?

A thunderstorm. She was scared of a sodding thunderstorm.

With each crash of thunder, she had been forced to gather handfuls of her skirts under the table and hang onto the emissary’s every word to keep her own mind centered, or count each of his whiskers, or follow every last stitch and weave of his parka when the old creature began to ramble aimlessly. Losing face wasn’t an option. Revealing that one of her greatest fears was a fear shared by many a small child was equally unacceptable. Even so, keeping it reigned in for so long was exhausting. 

Each time their eyes met, Mario had nodded to her, a silent promise that nothing and no one would hurt her. Now that they were alone, she could feel the pent-up tension leaving her body. She had been safe all along. She could be no safer than she was now.

She smiled and prepared to assure him that she was alright, if tired and a bit frustrated — but an ear-splitting crack of thunder froze her before she could utter a single sound.

The bright and familiar delegation room went dark around her, and suddenly she was alone in her bed, shivering but not knowing why. Unpleasant sensations overwhelmed her huddled form. A sense of dread so heavy it nauseated her. Quick, shallow breaths, too frightened to fill her lungs properly.

Her bed covers ripped back and ice-cold claws wrapping around her.

“Peach?”

WIth a gasp, she was back in the delegation room. The silk of her dress stuck uncomfortably to her skin with sweat, yet a shiver still ran down her spine.

Eyes of the gentlest blue fixated on her.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw herself forward and bury her face into his chest, grip the straps of his overalls, weep and beg him to take away her memories of that night. Instead, she forced herself to breathe. Inhale, hold. Exhale, hold.

Mario held her gaze as she calmed herself, whispering reassurances all the while — “It’s okay, you’re safe, I’m right here,” anything and everything she needed to hear in that moment. He had taken her hands at some point and held them securely within his own. She was shaking, she realized, yet he was so steady, so stable against her.

Thunder rumbled once more outside of the window, distantly this time. He rubbed his thumbs in circles over the backs of her hands.

“I feel so childish,” Peach whispered, her throat tight.

“You’re not.” Mario squeezed her hands briefly before dropping one to brush a loose strand of hair from her face, and she sighed against his touch. He was far too understanding. Far too patient.

After another moment, he asked, "How are you feeling?"

Peach couldn’t help a rueful smile, closing her eyes and leaning her head into his palm. “Like I want to curl up and hide.”

Thunder. She flinched and willed herself to focus on his touch, the warmth of his skin which permeated his gloves. She willed herself not to go back to that night. It was over. She was safe now. She was home safe, and Bowser was down for the count, and the one who always came through for her was right here.

Something in Mario’s expression shifted when she opened her eyes. He studied her face for a moment, and she in turn studied his, watching as a sort of enlightenment bloomed across his features.

He squeezed her hand once more and gave a single nod of his head. “Then let’s hide.”

And before she could ask any questions, he pulled her from her seat and led her out of the room and into the grand halls of the palace.

No one gave them a second glance as he led her towards the southern wing wherein lay her quarters. Mario had been a castle mainstay for years now, serving as her personal daytime guard for most of that time. There was nothing unusual about him escorting her to her room, especially in light of recent events, namely the two months she was kept as Bowser’s prisoner after being taken by force in the dead of night.

Mario had risked and almost lost his life ensuring it never happened again. Even so, he and the entire royal council agreed that there was no keeping the princess too safe. So in the interest of her security, he was assigned to watch over her at all times; he spent his days accompanying her as per usual and spent his nights on a cot in her drawing room, always on high alert, her ever-faithful, ever-selfless guard.

At least, that was the official story. In truth, nothing kept him there past sunset beyond his own free will and her tentative request, and the idea of sleeping on opposite sides of her bedroom door fell through within the first hour of the first night. Now she dozed each evening and woke each morning tucked safely into his arms. But no one aside from them and their closest friends needed to know that yet.

They made it to her room quickly and without incident, and Peach was almost ashamed of the relief she felt. Already she was eager to hide beneath the blankets with him. She would happily flop right onto the mattress, heels, makeup, crown and all.

Once inside, Mario took hold of the uppermost duvet… and yanked it completely off of the bed. Not what she had been expecting, but he’d never led her astray before, he wouldn’t start now. Right?

She observed in stupefied silence as he brought the blanket over to her desk, a sturdy and ornate piece with a roll top and an empty cubicle framed by drawers, large enough for her to freely move her legs during long hours of study (or swing them like a giggling teenager when writing to her beloved hero). Mario pulled her chair out from its nesting place within that cubicle and began arranging the blanket in its place, singling out the heaviest objects on the desktop to keep it held in place.

It hung in front of the entrance like a curtain, and she felt her face go warm in embarrassment when she realized what he was doing.

“...You’re making a blanket fort.”

“Nope!” He remained focused on his work, his bushy mustache unable to hide his cheerful smile. “This will be much cozier than a blanket fort. Nice, dark, quiet—” he stepped back to admire his work, then turned and presented it to her with a flourish. “Perfect hiding spot!”

She was so baffled that she didn’t even notice another round of thunder.

“This isn’t really helping the, you know, ‘feeling childish’ thing,” she confessed. Bless her Mario, her sweet, brave, noble Mario, she knew his intentions were nothing but pure, and yet…

He hummed in understanding, yet he remained every bit as bright. “No, no, Princess,” he said, approaching her and reaching for her hands, “I promise, there’s nothing childish about it! Luigi does it sometimes you know. Whenever he’s anxious or all his senses are overloaded? He’ll back a table against the wall, throw a blanket over it, crawl inside, e ecco qua! He emerges a new man.”

Stubbornly, Peach tried not to laugh. He couldn’t be serious. Yet the combination of Mario’s impassioned description and the mental images it invoked wrenched a smile from her all the same.

He was being serious. And for some reason, she was buying into it. Stars above she loved this man.

“...Alright. I’ll give it a shot.”

Mario cheered and gave her knuckles a quick kiss before rushing back to the improvised hideaway, lifting one corner of the blanket and ushering her inside. “Your Highness.”

Everything within Peach protested as she sank to her knees in front of her desk and crawled inside. She ignored it and busied herself pulling layer after layer of silk into the enclosure; once she had succeeded in stuffing herself and her dress inside, Mario dropped the blanket back into place, and everything went dark.

Peach blinked, settling into her chosen corner and assessing her emotions as they played out. She felt ridiculous. She felt like a child. Worse yet — she felt secure. He was right. There was something oddly comfortable about this setup. For a moment, she entertained the thought of some villain entering her room, only to leave in a huff upon seeing her bed empty, as though this little alcove were a secret and private extension of the castle rather than a desk with a blanket draped over it.

Thunder, uncomfortably close this time.

“So what do you think, Princess?” Mario asked almost as soon as she registered the thunder. Her pulse quickened, and briefly her mind took her back to that fateful night, but she swallowed heavily and replied before it could take hold of her.

“It’s not bad,” she said. “But it’s a bit roomy for my taste.”

“Oh?”

“You could easily fit two more of me in here, or maybe three Toads.”

“Or… maybe one portly plumber?”

“I was thinking a dashing, handsome knight, actually.” Peach’s trepidation faded to the back of her mind at his bashful chuckle. For someone so outgoing, he flustered so easily.

She heard a soft thud, and then light poured back into the enclosure as Mario lifted the blanket to crawl in with her. A lovely blush still colored his cheeks. “I can’t promise I won’t trample your dress.”

“I have at least ten more in this exact pattern.”

He puffed out his chest in a dramatized show of confidence. “Then here we go!”

They spent at least three or four minutes twisting about, accidentally elbowing one another in the face or in the stomach, giggling together as they tried and mostly failed to accommodate the mass of her skirts and his, well, everything. But eventually they found a comfortable position: Mario pressed his back into one corner with his knees bent, and Peach half-sat half-laid in his lap facing the opposite direction, her cheek on his shoulder and her skirts swallowing the remaining space.

“There we go!” Mario shifted beneath her, and once he settled, he rested his arms around her waist. “Nice and safe, see? No one will find us here. Nothing will hurt us.”

Peach hummed and relaxed against him, draping her arms loosely around his torso. That was something he’d started doing lately, she noticed. It was never “me” and “you” anymore, it was “we”, “us”. Was it intentional? Did he even know he was doing it?

Whatever the case, she hoped he’d continue. She liked thinking of themselves as a set, two inseparable pieces of one cohesive whole.

A clap of thunder even closer than the last pierced the air around them. She gasped on instinct, her body going cold, but immediately Mario’s arms tightened around her, and he drowned out the noise with a stream of reassurances. He sounded so resolute, so certain of what he was saying. And in the darkness surrounding them, they may as well have been the only two people in the world.

Peach snuggled into his warmth and let her fears be carried away on the wings of his promises. He had never led her astray before. He wouldn’t start now.

[lostywrites]

“He’s been refusing to talk to me. I was hoping he’d open up to you,” Max’s muffled words floated through the closed door, reaching the speedster’s ears. Sulking in his room for hours after arriving home, Bart had ignored Max’s attempts at conversation. He vaguely detected Superboy’s voice, but his frustration with Robin had eclipsed any remnants of desire for social interaction.

The door opened, Superboy's concerned voice now seeping into his private space. His bedroom resembled a chaotic collage, with clothes, underwear, and comic books strewn haphazardly across the floor.

“Hey, Imp,” Superboy greeted while effortlessly defying gravity to reach Bart perched atop his bunk.

Shoulders hunched and gaze affixed to the floor, Bart sat on the edge of the bed, his legs dangling. “Just leave me alone.” The words were heavy with a mix of despondency and a stubborn determination to wallow in self-pity.

Superboy sat alongside the brooding speedster, his voice quiet. “You know, Robin was angry because he cares about you. Gotham’s a dangerous place, and he’s lost people he cared about. The Joker triggered some dark memories.”

Impulse’s voice was bitter. “So now I’m a burden he has to protect? I’m not some helpless kid. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, Bart. But sometimes, it’s okay to listen to those who have more experience in dealing with certain criminals. Robin didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“He didn't have to throw it in my face like that. And I’ve had my share of battles, too, y’know. He’s not even super-powered like us. Strip away the gadgets, weapons and martial arts, and Rob wouldn’t last a minute against the kind of criminals I’ve confronted solo.”

“Robin may not have super powers, but that doesn’t make him any less of a fighter.”

Impulse’s shoulders slumped, his anger deflating. “I know that. I just don’t want him to be mad at me. I didn’t come to Gotham to fight crime with Batman. I was there to see him...to, you know, pull a prank or two and get a few laughs...”

“Okay I really gotta ask. What’s with the pranks?” Superboy's tone held a touch of amusement. “Why do you always mess with Robin?”

Bart’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. “Well, he’s always so serious and intense. It’s fun to see if I can crack that tough exterior...”

Superboy raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on Bart. “Is that the only reason?” he asked, playfully nudging the speedster.

“Yeah, pretty much. It’s just my way of having fun.”

“Really, Bart?” Superboy's voice held a note of scepticism. “It seems like you target him more than anyone else. Why haven’t I ever been on the receiving end of one of your pranks?”

Bart slumped his shoulders and sighed. “Alright, fine. Maybe there’s another reason...”

“Spill it.” Superboy prodded.

Bart hesitated before admitting, “I like getting his attention, okay? When I pull a prank or mess with Robin, he pays attention to me, even if it’s to scold me.”

“You know, sometimes when we’re drawn to someone’s attention like that, it might mean something more.”

Bart’s eyes widened, and he looked at Superboy with a mix of surprise and anxiety. “Whaddaya mean?”

“Do you think you might have a crush on Robin?”

“What?” Bart’s expression shifted from surprise to denial. “No way! It’s not like that.”

Superboy sprang off the bunk bed and levitated in front of Bart. “Feelings happen. It’s normal to feel some sort of attraction to someone. If you do like Robin, there’s no shame in admitting it.”

Bart’s gaze flickered, his feelings were obvious despite his attempts to hide them. “Alright, fine. I do have a crush on Robin. Happy now?” He then shoved Superboy away. “Get out!”

Superboy grinned, refusing to budge. “Hey I’m just glad you’re being honest with yourself. And if you ever wanna talk about it, I’m here. I’m serious. I’m not here to make fun of you, I promise. I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

As Bart looked at Superboy, he felt a mixture of vulnerability and relief. Confronting his emotions was both daunting and liberating, and with Superboy being aware of his true feelings for Robin, he knew he wouldn't have to navigate his emotions alone.

“Promise me you won’t say anything to anyone...especially Rob.”

“Your feelings are yours to share when you’re ready. I won’t say anything unless you want me to.”

After hours of hanging out and playing video games, Superboy had gone home for the night and Bart found himself restless. His thoughts were consumed by a myriad of emotions he had been grappling with—his frustration and crush on Robin.

Unable to silence the clamour within his mind, Bart finally emerged from his bedroom, his destination set as the kitchen. His quest? To find solace in a late-night snack, perhaps a towering sandwich layered with succulent cured hams and melted cheese...

“What are you doing up this late? It’s a school night.” Max’s voice caught him off guard. The old man had been waiting in the dark in the living room.

The floor lamp then flickered to life, revealing Max, donned in his cosy old man jammies, sitting comfortably in his favourite armchair.

Bart took a deep breath before delving into what had been preoccupying his thoughts. “Max, what does it feel like to fall for someone and they don’t even notice?”

“Oh boy, I had a feeling we’d be having this conversation sooner or later,” Max muttered. His expression softened as he understood the nature of Bart’s inquiry. “Well, it’s not an uncommon feeling. Falling for someone and not having them notice can be tough. It can make you feel both excited and frustrated at the same time.”

Bart’s brows furrowed, his gaze searching. “But what if you want them to notice, but you’re scared they won’t feel the same way?”

Max’s smile was kind, his words carrying a hint of wisdom. “That’s a common fear, Bart. It’s natural to be afraid of rejection. You can’t control someone else’s feelings. All you can do is be yourself and be honest about your own emotions.”

Bart’s shoulders relaxed, a sense of relief washing over him. “But what if being honest feels too risky?”

He followed Max into the kitchen. The consistent rumbling in his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since he phased through the front door and into his bedroom that afternoon.

Yet, it appeared that Max had already tended to dinner. While seated at the dining table, Bart’s attention was drawn to Max setting down a plateful of fried chicken steak, complemented by a serving of crunchy green beans and a tempting slice of cornbread, all wholesomely prepared and set aside for him.

“Sometimes, taking that risk is what opens the door to something beautiful,” Max continued. “And even if the feelings aren’t reciprocated, it’s better to know where you stand.”

Comfortable with expressing himself through actions rather than words, Bart wrapped Max in a tight hug, conveying his appreciation to the veteran speedster.

“You always know what to say and do the right things to make me feel better,” Bart admitted sincerely.

Max’s smile was warm. “You’re still young, and you have plenty of time to navigate life’s challenges. Just be patient with yourself,” he advised, affectionately ruffling Bart’s hair before leaving the kitchen. “Now, cheer up and finish your supper. Everything’s going to be fine.”

More on Ao3

[derrick-starr]

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I rise again to bring you my own original blorbo.

I’ve been in such a slump lately, so I made my own D&December challenge to get back into drawing.

I’m going to make a new character portrait every 3 days of my original D&D characters. Messy rambles about my boy Raylin here under the cut :D

I've never actually gotten to play as this guy before, but I love coming up with new characters based on interesting dnd classes, backgrounds, or races.

This guy, Raylin Melviir, is a Drow Warlock (fiend) with the Haunted One background. While perusing different dnd backgrounds, the Haunted One really stuck out to me. I liked how vague and therefore versatile it was, and I was particularly interested in one of the offered Harrowing Events:

"A fiend possessed you as a child. You were locked away but escaped. The fiend is still inside you, but now you try to keep it locked away."

A fiend you say? Isn't that something you can make a warlock pact with?

So yeah, Raylin is a warlock who made a deal with the fiend who possessed him as a child and still haunts his mind. Having your patron, who you already don’t have a great relationship with, as a backseat driver in your head was such a compelling concept that I HAD to put it to paper. I’ve also always had a fascination with characters who share one body, I think Greed and Ling from Fullmetal Alchemist permanently changed my brain chemistry.

I'm still working out some of the backstory, but the idea is that the demon, Maldremon, was some big shot in the in hell, but was overthrown by a coup. To make sure he stayed down, they did some magic to separate his soul from his body and cast it away to the material plane. In his weakened state, he needed to possess the first person he saw or die, and that happened to be a young Raylin Melviir.

Living an idyllic little life, Raylin was a sweet boy with a kind soul who lived with his mother in a small village. When he was around eight years old (or the drow equivalent), he was possessed by this fiend and locked within his own mind.

Now, Mal couldn’t just start his revenge plot right away, so he had to bide his time until this body grew. In the meantime, he decided to have some fun. He became an absolute terror, getting into fights, sent to reform schools, and even getting in serious trouble with the law as he got older. Eventually he was arrested, but escaped, and started racking up arrest warrants and permanent banishments in every town he came across.

Raylin, this whole time, has been locked in his own mind, forced to just watch as this demon ruins his life. At first, he’s confused and scared and begs the demon to let him go and to stop hurting people, but to no avail. Slowly, over time, Raylin becomes more despondent and apathetic, slipping into a sort of sleep for weeks, months, or even years at a time.

After a long time, Ray decides to fight back. He spends months lying in wait, gathering strength, and looking for the perfect opportunity to fight for control, and somehow, he succeeds. Maldremon is none too happy about this, but Raylin stands strong, and is in control of himself again for the first time in decades. He's now the drow equivalent of about 21, but it's been about 45 years since he was first possessed.

Traveling around, out of touch in an unfamiliar body. He barely remembers what it was like to be in control, but this is a jarring change from what he does remember. Mal also didn't help with that, having acquired piercings, scars, and tattoos that he’s still finding.

Raylin is also wanted or banned from a good portion of the towns and cities around him. That, coupled with having basically no life experience or skills, does not bode well for starting a new life.

Raylin initially wants to go back home and find his mom, but he also knows that as long as the fiend is still in his head, it’s not safe to do so. So, his new mission is to exercise the fiend, but he woke up in the middle of nowhere, and finding someone skilled enough to help him hasn’t been working. Mal being a nuisance and trying to take back control also hinders his quest, as this can cause painful headaches. Some days, he has to concentrate so hard that he can’t even get out of bed, head aching and nose bleeding as Mal tries to tear his way to freedom.

One night, Raylin is cornered by bandits, and climbs a tree to escape, but it’s only a matter of time before they get him down. He’s going to die. And, though he’s scared, Raylin accepts this. At least if he dies, he takes the fiend with him.

Maldremon, unable to take back control, freaks the fuck out. He doesn’t know what will happen to him if Raylin dies. Will he die as well, or will his soul just be ejected out? Even if he was, he wouldn’t be strong enough to possess one of these men, and he’d die anyway without a host. Raylin is still holding strong against his attempts to take control, even when it would be to save their lives. Mal doesn’t want to die, so instead, he strikes a bargain.

Raylin at first is dead set on refusing, but Maldremon takes advantage of his fear and anger, though Raylin does the same. The deal is: Raylin receives power and boons from Maldremon to protect them and aid them on their journey. Raylin, in return, must help Maldremon find a new host, though they agree that it will be a completely blank vessel for him to inhabit. And finally, Maldremon can no longer attempt to take over Raylin’s body. With the deal struck, Raylin dispatches the bandits with guidance from Mal, and the two continue on with a shaky truce.

A mark like a scar appears on the back of his right hand as a symbol of their deal, the same symbol that Maldremon used to have on his forehead.

Now, for some of the visuals I added:

I dabbled with the idea that the symbol/scar on back of hand would glow when he casts spells, but I didn't want to deal with a second light source so I made a choice lol.

The random scar on his arm is meant to show that he's gotten in some tussles in his time, or at least Mal has. He definitely has a lot more hiding under his clothes, including two top surgery scars. Mal may be an evil demon ruining Ray's life, but he's not transphobic. I considered added a hint of a tattoo design, but it felt like it'd make everything too busy. I think he has one big tattoo on his back and maybe some on his chest? Upper arms maybe? Idk, thinking of tattoos for myself is already hard enough.

I included empty piercing spots because I love the idea that Mal got them a million different piercings so he could adorn himself in finery, but Ray hates drawing attention to himself so he never wears any.

The braided bracelet he has is actually something his mom made for him. I imagine the original material eventually got too small and old, so, several years into the possession, it broke. Raylin freaked out, nonstop crying for Mal to fix it. Usually Raylin has the backbone of a chocolate éclair, but he wouldn't stop and Mal thought it was annoying, so he found a bit of twine and added some extra length at the break. Now decades later, Raylin back in control, he noticed that the bracelet was still there with a new, longer extension to keep it secure. It must have broken when he was sunk into their subconscious, and Mal fixed it without prompting. Weird, bet that doesn't have any emotional implications or anything.

Drow have superior darkvision but also get disadvantage in direct sunlight, so that made me look into animals with really good night vision. In my search, I came across the tarsier that have these huge, buggy eyes with pupils that are like pinpricks in the daytime but become huge saucers at night.

And on the subject of eyes, Ray's eyes used to be a bright blue, but ever since he was possessed, they’ve become the same amber yellow as Mal's, even now that he has back control of his body.

I also chose that his spellcasting focus is an orb/crystal ball, hence the round satchel at his hip. I really like the idea that Mal can appear in the ball so they can talk to each other face to face. I'm toying with the idea that they can see each other as ghostly figures all the time, but either way, everyone is able to facetime with Mal through the orb.

And eventually when he can choose a boon, he'll get Pact of the Chain which let's him summon a familiar. Instead of a normal familiar though, it allows Mal to possess a small magic body and let's him go do any tasks necessary. The idea of this all powerful demon possessing something like a cat was too funny to me. It also opens up the door to him being obstinate and not wanting to help Raylin lol.

And finally, some personal character details:

One of the personality options for the Haunted One was "I like to read and memorize poetry. It keeps me calm and brings me fleeting moments of happiness," and I loved that so much that I started saving small poems that Raylin could read to make himself feel better. I also found one of my favorite poems in the process, I Heard a Bird Sing by Oliver Herford.

I've since decided that Raylin writes his own poetry as well, since there's not much else to entertain yourself with when you're (literally) stuck in your own head.

Initial characterization was very scared and docile, similar to the expression in this illustration, but as I think about and develop him more, I want to give him more of a backbone and maybe even a bitchy attitude. Maybe that'll come later on as he develops through whatever story he finds himself in.

Also, I decided he writes in a journal to sort out his thoughts about everything that's happened to him, as well as to keep a record of his own existence in case he dies or gets taken over again. I love the idea of playing as a character and having genuine entries for you or fellow players to read, so I have some written out because I'm so extra. I think I'd have to change some based on how his characterization and story line have changed, but the basics are the same. This also supports the idea that he writes his own poetry, maybe I can make some drafts and sprinkle into the journal entries.

[total-drama-takes-takes-2]

tti episode 25 - version 2

“For the past eight weeks, you have been watching Fren, Joner, Peter, Kitty, Mal, O, Sha-Mod, Frollo, Caesar, Austin, Scruffy, Kelly, Courtney, Scary, Max, Staci, Patrick, Bonnie, Ass, and Julia compete in the most heinous, disgusting, dangerous challenges reality TV has seen since 2007. You have watched them laugh, cry, love and receive various injuries, and it’s all come down to this! Two campers remain, and by sundown, only one will be left standing! That winner will go home with a check for one million dollars and the pride of having survived this crummy camp. Our two final campers are about to fight it out in a battle of the exes here on Total! Takes! Island!”

“Welcome back to the island. It's been a grueling past two months for our finalists, so we asked them to record their thoughts before the final challenge,” Chris smiles, pacing around the currently-empty mess hall. 

---

MCLOVIN: “I guess I had a good time. I made a lot of new friends,”

---

MICHAEL: “Now people hate my existence and want to kill me! Great job at making new friends, Michela!"

---

MCLOVIN: “I’m not too surprised I made it this far. It’s like my mom always says, a positive attitude can get you anywhere!”

---

MICHAEL: “I’m honestly shocked I haven’t given up yet. I mean, I was so sure I’d be a mid-season boot and now I’m a finalist!”

---

MCLOVIN: “The food? It was okay... when it wasn’t trying to kill me,”

---

MICHAEL: “Don’t even get me started on the supposed “food” we had to eat. It’d probably be inhumane to serve that stuff to dogs,”

---

MCLOVIN: “The rats in the kitchen wouldn’t even touch it,”

---

MICHAEL: “And the people?”

---

MCLOVIN: “The people were awesome! Sure, there were some fights, but I’ve never met so many amazing friends than on this island!”

---

MICHAEL: “-a bunch of lazy, stubborn, self-centered jerks who only cared about themselves,”

---

MCLOVIN: “Sha-Mod and I share a psychic bond! We’re soulmates- bromates! I meant bromates!”

---

MICHAEL: “Max is probably one of the most stubborn, rude, unapologetically mean people I’ve ever met, and… I am so glad I met him. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better.”

---

MCLOVIN: “Courtney has the coolest hair ever, Julia is super smart…”

---

MICHAEL: “I guess that’s about it, really,”

---

MCLOVIN: “What will I be remembered for?” he pauses to think. “My personality!”

---

MICHAEL: “Um… my hair?”

---

MCLOVIN: “Or maybe these!” he stands on the toilet and stomps, his light-up Sketchers blinking.

---

Chris leaves the mess hall after announcing the final curtain call will be in thirty minutes. Michael sighs and slumps forward. 

“What’s the matter?” McLovin asks, spooning their final crummy camp meal. 

“I guess I’m just kind of disappointed I didn’t accomplish anything I came here for,” 

“What do you mean? We did lots of awesome stuff and met tons of awesome people!”

“No,” Michael frowns at him. “You did tons of awesome stuff and met tons of awesome people. I just made a bunch of enemies and humiliated myself on national television hundreds of times.”

McLovin’s smile drops and he looks at her. “That’s kind of a depressing way to look at it,”

“That’s reality, dude,”

A silence falls over the two McLovin sighs. 

“Do you think anything’s gonna be the same after we go home?”

“Honestly? Not at all. I just don’t know if I can stay friends with you and Joner after everything. I’ll be alone, but maybe that won't be such a bad thing,” she says, kicking back and putting her feet on the table. “I’ll be putting myself first for once, anyway.”

“Well… I kinda understand. If that’s what you want, then that’s cool. I respect that,” McLovin says, saluting her. “I just wish we could’ve made up.”

“Sometimes that’s too much to ask. I wish you would’ve shown you’ve changed instead of just apologizing,” she stands, leaving her bowl behind half-empty and her former friend with a contemplative look on his face.

---

“Alright, campers!” Chris says, leading the two between a pair of wooden bleachers out in the forest. Michael and McLovin can see a track extending into the woods, and both know without saying that that’s where they’re heading next. “Time to welcome back the twenty losers who did not make it here with you today!”

The former competitors walk from the docks. McLovin waves to his friends, who merrily wave back. No one even looks at Michael as they pass to the bleachers. 

“Everyone who is not competing, please take a seat in the peanut gallery of failure! The side you choose should represent who you’re rooting for in the finale,” Chris says, directing the crowd to the bleachers behind him. Each has a large banner with either contestant's face on it. 

Sha-Mod and Courtney are the first to sit on McLovin’s side, followed shortly by just about everyone else. Only one person is sitting in Michael’s gallery. 

Max waves from the empty bleachers. Michael smiles and waves back. 

“Okay, a little surprising, but wow,” Chris says. “Can we get a few more volunteers to pity-join? Makes it more suspenseful.”

“Come on, guys!” McLovin yells to his supporters. “Michael is really… cool and nice and stuff!”

A few contestants raise eyebrows. He sighs. “Staci, Scruffy- um, the tall one- Peter, Kelly,”

Much to their annoyance (and McLovin’s surprise at having people actually listen to him) all of the selected losers get up and move without complaint. Michael rolls her eyes, but she still gives McLovin a slightly grateful look. 

Max hops down from the bleachers and runs over to her, ducking under Chef before he can stop him. “You got this, okay?” he says, holding her hands. 

Chris rolls his eyes and jabs a thumb in their direction, sending Chef over to collect him. Chef grabs Max by the back of his collar and drags him back to the stands. “I believe in you!” he yells before he’s promptly sat down. 

Frollo sits in the middle space between the bleachers on the ground, eternally reading his Bible. 

Chris walks over. “Um, dude, you gotta pick a side,”

He rolls his eyes. “Both of these players are sinners, and-”

Chef walks over, picks him up, and tosses him onto Michael’s side, the few losers already there ducking to avoid him as he shrieks and flies across the screen. 

“Go, MC!” Courtney shouts. 

“Yeah, go support the endless cog of capitalism!” Ass says sarcastically. Courtney smacks them upside the head. 

“McLovin, this is your chance to tell the peanut gallery what you would do with the money if you won,” Chris says, pointing at him. He smiles. 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I finally chose just two things I’d want to do with the money,” he says. “First, I’d save half of it for art school and my future living expenses.”

Joner and Michael both raise an eyebrow. 

“And then with everything I have left, I would give everyone who competed on this show an even portion of the money. Including Michael!” 

Everyone aws at that, and everyone on Michael’s side aside from Max silently gets up and walks back over to McLovin’s. Even Frollo’s unconscious body slumps off the stands and rolls over to the other bleachers. Max groans and smacks his forehead. 

“Michael?”

“I would probably save most of it in a secure bank account for my future. And maybe get new skates,”

Everyone stares at her blankly. She sighs. 

“Alright, it’s time for the final challenge: the rejected Olympic relay race!” Chris shouts. “There are three parts: first, each of you has to put on one of these,” he smiles, holding a chicken hat in his right hand and a cow hat in his left. He hands one to each. “Dressed in your very special uniforms, you will run to the first location and shimmy up the pole to grab your flag. Next, you’ll cross a 300m balance beam suspended across a massive gorge while carrying an eagles egg. After is a long distance run back to this location. Whoever gets here first wins!”

The peanut galleries cheer as Michael and McLovin look at each other. 

“Good luck,” he says, adjusting his chicken hat. “You deserve to win.”

Michael stares. “I don’t need your pity,”

“Go, McLovin!” Sha-Mod shouts from the stands. 

“Kick her ass, MC!” Julia yells before a large rock from Michael’s bleachers hits her in the back of the head. She slumps onto Scruffy in the row below, unconscious. 

“Anyone else?!” Max yells from offscreen. 

“Ready!” Chris shouts, waving around a checkered flag. “Set? Go!”

McLovin and Michael start off, the latter in the lead. Michael reaches the flagpole first and takes a leaping jump to the base, scaling it with ease. 

The pencil arrives next and attempts to inch his way up the pole like a worm. “Use your freakishly long limbs!” Ass yells from the stands, still dizzy from Courtney's blow. 

McLovin whimpers and extends his arms higher, grabbing the flag at the same time Michael hops off. 

“How do I get down?!” he yells. 

“Figure it out! You got this!” Courtney yells back. 

McLovin frowns and jumps down, landing on his butt. The crowd winces. 

“Get up, dude!” Sha-Mod yells. “She’s not far ahead!”

Michael approaches the gorge and peers over the edge, where sharks are swimming in the water below the thin, rickety planks of wood. She swallows nervously but runs back around to the eagles nest behind her, grabbing an egg and hiding it in her parka before she begins to cross. 

McLovin follows, snatching an egg and holding it above his head while closing his eyes and screaming, running across the thin plank of wood. 

“You might wanna look where you’re going, dude!” Chris shouts. “Those eggs weren’t for nothing!”

A few campers catch up to the players, stopping behind Chris and looking around the skies nervously. 

Scruffy yells from the edge of the gorge. “McLovin, there are eagles! Huge eagles! And-” another rock hits them square in the temple and they fall backwards. Max tosses another stone from one hand to the other while glaring at the other losers. 

“What did they mean by-” Michael starts before a massive eagle swoops down and lunges for McLovin's exposed egg, talons extended. 

He barely manages to duck, but is thrown off-balance and wobbles around on one foot. The peanut gallery (now on their feet) gasps and watches in terror as he falls to his butt on the plank, but manages to keep himself out of the shark infested waters. 

Michael reaches the other side, pulling the egg out of its hiding place and setting in the nest on stable ground. She starts running again, McLovin (still shaking) not far behind. 

The track takes the two right through camp. “Almost there!” Max yells, one of the campers running behind the contestants. 

“Come on, MC, you got this!” Sha-Mod shouts, a few steps behind Max. “This part is the easiest!”

As he says that, McLovin steps over a suspiciously elevated dirt mound and a huge explosion lets off behind him. 

“What was that?!” Michael shouts as another explosion sounds. 

“Oh, yeah, we had some leftover landmines!” Chris shouts into his megaphone from a safe distance. “Enjoy!”

“Jerk!” Michael snaps, narrowly dodging another massive landmine explosion that takes out the confessional booth.

"Watch out!" McLovin yells, pointing out various lumps of dirt ahead of her.

"I don't need your help!" she snaps back. "I'm not your pity case!"

"What is it gonna take for you to forgive me?!"

"Move. ON!" she shouts, speeding up ahead and jumping over every landmine visible. Another one explodes, sending McLovin backwards.

He screams in terror, covering his eyes and running blindly when he gets up. 

“Get a grip!” Ass yells from behind. “Stop being such a coward!”

“No!” he shouts back. 

Scary scoffs. “Why don’t you just let her win then, nice guy?!”

McLovin frowns and whimpers, standing and stumbling forward. "I can do this!" he affirms himself, a few cheers sounding from the sidelines.

He runs up to Michael, shoving her out of the way as the finish line comes into sight. She falls on her butt and yelps.

"This is pointless!" she yells, refusing to stand. "Who even cares!"

A voice from the sidelines sounds out. "Chel!"

She turns. "Max?"

He waves from off the course, avoiding the landmine-covered track. "You can't give up! Remember what I told you! You didn't come here to make friends!"

Michael sighs. She closes her eyes and stands shakily, clenching her fists. "I want to win,"

"More enthusiasm!"

"I want to win!" she starts off running.

"Yes!"

"I WANT TO WIN!" she yells, catching up to McLovin and shoving him.

"There's my girl!"

His thin body shudders like a piece of paper in the wind and he flies backwards from the force of the push as she crosses the finish line seconds before him.

The peanut gallery cheers, abandoning McLovin on the dirt trail and surrounding Michael.

Max forces everyone in the crowd out of the way, throwing his arms around her and kissing her. The peanut gallery oohs and he glares.

"Mind your own business!"

"And Michael is the winner of Total Takes Island!" Chris says, walking over with a huge check. "Congratulations, camper!"

Chef nods. "Could've seen that one coming,"

Sha-Mod manages to squeeze through the crowd and run over to McLovin, still flat on the ground. He helps him up and hugs him.

"You did good!"

"Yeah, but not good enough," McLovin coughs, wiping the dirt off his pants.

Sha-Mod shrugs. "So? We'll have to work a little harder for our dream house. But we're still getting one, there's no way I'm giving up on a mansion with my boyfriend,"

McLovin blushes and looks over. “Did you mean bromate? Cause I made the same-”

“Nah,” Sha-Mod says, leaning on McLovin’s shoulder. “Bromate’s platonic.”

The crowd continues stirring with excitement as Michael walks past, hand-in-hand with Max. She smiles and gives one last wave to McLovin, who waves back, before the two part ways. 

---

“Here we are at the last TTI bonfire ceremony ever,” Chris says, smiling at the entire cast as they sit around the pit. “After eight brutal weeks of torture, infections, and drama, our season winner is Michael!”

The campers cheer, congratulating Michael as she sits near the center of the group, Max leaning his head on her shoulder.

“Michael, the final marshmallow,” Chris grins, tossing her the treat. She catches it and smiles. “A symbol of prosperity. Treasure it for the rest of your life.”

“Sure," she says, tossing it into the fire seconds later. Max laughs.

The crowd returns to talking amongst each other as Chef comes out of the mess hall with more marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers for s'mores.

“I don't think I did so bad for last place,” Fren says, kicking back. 

Staci (now bleach blonde, thanks to Kelly’s handiwork) shrugs as she sits between their two friends. “You survived, at least,”

“And we got a right groovy finale, baby!” Austin says, patting her on the back. “Great season, baby!”

“Thank you, Austin,” Chris says smugly. “And to all you viewers at home- thank you for supporting us here at Total Takes Island! We all hope you had a good time watching these teens fight to the death, and we can’t wait to see you next season!”

Everyone turns to him. “NEXT SEASON?!”

[septic-skele]

UT/FB - Unfinished Business (Yet to Begin)

“Are you free, Itward?” Sans piped up suddenly, cutting off the rather intricately woven tale his imaginary friend was currently spinning for him. Self-conscious for interrupting, he briefly shrank lower against his pillows but Itward didn’t seem irritated. He merely tilted his head questioningly, hat quirking askew.

“Mm? Free in what sense, babybones? You know I’m possessing of free thought, free speech and free time that I’m happy to share with you.”

“Uh-huh, and I’m real glad that you do but…Dad told me that this place isn’t really home. He says we’re trapped down here thanks to the humans. He says if he doesn’t do all of this really important work for the King, we’ll never be free—so I-I guess I shouldn’t be complaining that he works so late.”

Itward’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly where they were draped over his folded knees. Why Gaster had chosen to burden his son with that knowledge so soon, so young, only for it to serve as another excuse, he couldn’t begin to fathom. “It’s not wrong of you to miss him, Sans. It’s wrong of him to leave you alone so long.”

“But I’m not alone; I’ve got you,” Sans dodged acknowledging that can of worms, propping himself up higher in bed. “And you tell me stories about all these places you’ve been that I’ve never seen; I’ve never even heard of them, which means they’re not part of the Underground, right? You can get out of here, somehow. You’re free!”

“…Yes,” Itward allowed, a slight tingle of guilt skittering up his spine as he sensed the question coming. “I’m free to leave the Underground when I so desire, when my wards in other worlds need help.”

Sans fidgeted for several moments, staring at the patchwork pattern of his bedsheets until his eyelights flickered uncertainly out. When he spoke again it was barely audible. “Could you take me with you?”

A vulnerable, honest question deserving of an honest answer. “In theory.”

“Would you? In theory? Or would I just get in the way when you’re working too?” A small, mirthless laugh escaped him, one beyond his years. “I bet Dad wouldn’t even notice I was gone.”

“Now, now, we both know that’s not true.” Even if later rather than sooner, the doctor would notice if he lost track of his one-of-a-kind specimen but Itward wasn’t about to say that. “You put a lot of stock in fairness, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Being trapped here in the Underground isn’t fair. Your father’s long days and late nights aren’t fair. But your absence at my hand wouldn’t exactly be fair either, when his absence was the very thing to bring us together. And as much as I’d love an extra pair of hands on my airship, as much as I know you’d be a great friend to the other children in my care…everyone is born to the worlds they belong in. The last thing I’d want to do is get in the way of your work here; knowing you, I have a feeling it will be just as important as mine.”

“Really? Like what?”

“Who knows? There may be another bright young monster who comes into your life someday, needing friends, needing a lot of care and kindness from someone who understands what it’s like when things aren’t fair. For all we know, you could be the most important person in the world to them, as your dad is to you. We can’t have them missing you without even knowing what they’re missing.”

“Yeah, I guess not.” Sighing, Sans slumped in slight defeat against the consoling hand Itward settled on his skull. “Dad’s not supposed to know you exist so you can’t tell him how you get in and out of the Underground, huh?”

“True.” But that didn’t mean he was sworn to silence with his charge. Smiling lopsidedly, Itward stroked his thumb over Sans’ forehead a few times before sliding it down to secretively tap the side of his nasal bridge. “When not by my airship, it’s by teleportation.”

“…Wow. Wow. Stars, I wish I could do that.”

[darkandstormydolls]

In honor of national siblings day, here’s Leonora and Alexander being siblings! This scene occurs several years before the actual main story, when they’re both still dealing with the aftermath of their parents’ deaths

Leonora eased the door to the living room open. “Moo? I heard you were in here.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here.” Alexander was sitting in the middle of the loveseat. Leonora thought he looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulder; he was slumped in on himself, head resting in his hands.

She settled into place next to him. “Are you alright?”

Alexander laughed bitterly. “Alright? Leo, I just lost my parents and now they’re asking me to take on the task of being responsible for the safety of the entire. Damn. Magical. World. I’m flippin’ fantastic.”

“You don’t have to be angry about it. I’m trying to help.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m having a rough time, okay?”

“You think I’m not? I lost just as much as you did.”

“Yeah, well, you’re…”

“I’m what?”

“I don’t know! You’re ‘Leonora Lamia, youngest necromancer the world has ever seen’ . I’m ‘Jacob and Camille’s kid’. And now you’re off in the Hollow doing whatever it is you do and I’m here with the weight of the Fires hanging over my head.”

Leonora was quiet for a moment. “That was uncalled for. We’re both struggling.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to go through this.”

“Yes, well, let’s take it one step at a time.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing! I ‘one step at at time’ed my way through the funeral and I don’t know how much more I can handle!” Alexander buried his face deeper into his hands. “I keep thinking that I’m feeling overwhelmed and I want to talk to Mama about it but she’s not here.”

“I know. I know it’s hard. But I’m here. I know I’m not the same, but I’m here.”

“I just don’t know what to do! There’s so much.”

“Well, let’s break it down. You need to choose your circle, right?”

Alexander nodded.

“Alright, that’s one thing. And then we need to go through Mama and Daddy’s things. That’s one other thing. And that’s really just two things, right?”

“I guess. But two really big things.”

“They’ll seem smaller once you get started. Now, first things first; you don’t need to pick twenty people out of thin air. There’s still nine left over from before. And you know them. They’ll help. And you know more about the procedures for this kind of stuff than you think.”

“Will you be one of them?” Alexander asked hesitantly. Leonora shook her head.

“No. I belong at the Hollow.”

“Please? Leo, I need someone I can trust.”

“You can trust Lyx and Aino, right? They’d be better at this kind of thing. And I know you want necromancers to be involved again, but I’m not going to be one of those people. Someone who doesn’t share our last name deserves to be involved.”

“But I don’t know what to do.”

“Would it help if I made you a list? Of some of the people I think might be a good fit?”

“Yes please.

“And I’ll help you clean everything out. Can’t have you getting sentimental over every old dish towel or something anyways.”

“Really? You sure you don’t have too much to do back with your necromancy and things?”

“You know how seriously they take death there. Neither of us will be expected back at the Hollow for a month at the least. And besides, you’re my baby brother. I’d do anything for you.” Leonora paused and considered this for a moment. “In the ‘murder’ or ‘giving up an organ’ sense, of course. Not letting you finish my dessert.”

Alexander gave her a half smile. “Still your ‘baby’ brother? Really? Haven’t been updated to ‘younger’ yet? Or even ‘little’?”

“Never. You’re just a little baby.” She ruffled his hair affectionately.

“I’m a fully grown adult. Soon I’ll be the holder of what just may be the most powerful object in the Fires.”

“Still a baby. Forever and ever.” Leonora stood up. “Now, can we try and get at least one thing done? Look through one bookshelf?”

“Alright, fine. Maybe I can manage one.”

[iamwritingsanders]

Inherited Mess Pt. 5

First: Link Previous: Link Next: Link

Exhausted Plans

Roman flopped down on the floor, sprawled out in the middle of the main lobby. His face was a bright red, and he panted like he never knew what air in his lungs felt like. Virgil sat down on the couch, slumping a little and resting an elbow on the armrest, resting his cheek to his closed fist as he looked down at Roman. 

“I’m…dying…” Roman had wanted to work out his anger, but he regretted that choice already. 

“Have you never run a mile before?” Virgil asked. 

“Back in…high school.” 

“Do you do any exercise outside of walking around a mall?” 

“You’re not funny.” Roman didn’t even need to look at Virgil to know that he was smirking with his comment. “I’m surprised someone like you likes running and all that. You give off, ‘I just want to sleep in bed all day’ energy.” He had lifted his hands to make the quotes with his fingers before letting them flop back down. 

“You can blame your brother for getting me into running. He was the one to suggest I start doing it when I first joined since I was too much in my head.” Virgil watched Roman sit up and turn to look at him. 

“Too much in your head?”

“Our line of work requires a clear head. It’s not safe to be an overthinker out in the field. Remus figured out my shit almost instantly and helped me figure it out. Now I’m one of the best.” 

“You’re being really vague. What shit? What’s the field? The best as what?” Roman was getting frustrated again. 

“I’ve said too much already. Remus doesn’t want me to give the details. He wants to do it himself.” Virgil couldn’t blame the annoyed grunt Roman made. 

“You mean like how he’s told me about getting shot or all of those other injuries he’s gotten? He’s amazing at sharing details.” 

“I’ll admit it’s kind of shocking you don’t know about those things. Remus loves to give plenty of information about himself. The things I know about his sex life.” Virgil rubbed at his face.

“I know I want to know things, but I do not want to know about that.” Roman scrunched his face up, and they both started laughing at that.

“I’m sure there’s some reason behind it. Remus only holds back if he’s worried about someone he cares about getting hurt.” Virgil said as he stood back up. “But that’s for you two to hash out. Let’s get to the gym before it gets crowded.” 

“What? I thought the running was today’s training.” 

“That was the warm-up.” 

“Nope. I am done.” Roman flopped himself back down, limbs spread out like a starfish. “You’ve done your job. I’m staying here.” 

“You’re going to at least come with me and learn the machines.” Virgil went over to Roman and nudged his side with his foot. 

“I’m not moving,” Roman stated. 

“Fine. Then I’ll move you.” Virgil shrugged.

“You are not picking me up again,” Roman said as Virgil went down to his feet. 

“Alright, I won’t pick you up.” Virgil grabbed Roman’s ankles and lifted them. “I’ll drag you.” 

“Wait-!” Roman yelped as Virgil pulled and was, as he said he would, dragging him across the floor. “I am going to kick you!” He shouted as he tried to free himself. 

“Oh!” Patton stepped out of the kitchen and moved back out of the way so he didn’t get run over. “Is this a trust exercise?” He added with a giggle as he walked with the two. 

“Virgil’s being a dick,” Roman grunted, going limp and giving up on trying to free himself. 

“He didn’t want to get up, so I’m helping.” Virgil chuckled. 

“If it works.” Patton giggled some more. “I’m planning on going on a shopping trip this afternoon for some spices. Would you two like to join?”

“Sure. Gets this one out of the house.” Virgil said.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.” Roman scoffed. 

“I’ll let you guys know what time after I talk with Remus. You know how he gets when it comes to me going out.” 

“Sounds good, Pat,” Virgil said with a smile.

“Have fun!” Patton waved as he turned down a different hall. 

“I don’t get a say in this?” Roman asked.

“Are you going to complain about a shopping trip?” Virgil chuckled as he used his foot to open the gym door. 

“Shut up,” Roman muttered. 

x~x~x

“It's me.” Patton sang as he knocked on Remus' door. He hummed to himself as he waited and chuckled when Remus cracked open the door and peeked, checking that Patton was alone. 

“We're finishing getting dressed,” Remus explained before opening the door enough for Patton to come in. 

“Did you two sleep in or something?” Patton asked. 

“You could say that.” Remus softly laughed as he went to get a shirt. 

“It's been an…interesting morning,” Logan said, looking in the mirror to check his tie. 

“I'll say. I just walked with Virgil, who was dragging Roman across the floor.” Patton went over to Logan and helped fix the back of his collar. 

“Why was he dragging him?” Remus asked, slipping a shirt over his head.

“Not sure. Roman was conscious and pouting, so he wasn’t hurt or anything like that.” Patton said. 

“Probably means Virgil's still doing his training for the day, and Roman doesn't want to.” Remus started ruffling his hair to poof it back up. 

“Janus did tell me he saw them running earlier.” Patton looked at Remus and clicked his tongue in disapproval. “That shirt has a hole in it.” 

“It's got at least four,” Remus said with a cheeky smile.

“You know that's not what I meant. You need to look a little more professional as the boss.” Patton walked over to where Remus' clothing was and dug around. 

“We should get him a suit,” Logan suggested with a grin.

“Logan wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off me if I got one of those.” Remus winked at Logan through the mirror.

“Logan’s got a little more control than that.” Patton giggled, giving Remus a new shirt. It was a nice black shirt with a collar, nothing too fancy but a lot more formal than his worn-down metal band shirt. 

“He’d drag me away.” Remus looked at the shirt and sighed in defeat as he took off his shirt and put on the new one. 

“That reminds me! I need more spices.” Patton noticed the look Remus made and spoke again before he could. “I already asked Virgil and Roman to join me, and you know Janus isn’t going to let me go out on my own.”

“Maybe have Remy join you so you have another set of eyes.” Remus chewed the inside of his cheek. 

“Remy’s out for the day on a job,” Logan said. “You could go with them. It’d be a good time to talk with Roman.” 

“Shopping does put him in a better mood, regardless of what he’s buying. Yeah, I’ll join you guys.” Remus looked down at himself. “Am I supposed to tuck this in? It looks weird.” 

“We’ll head out when Virgil finishes with Roman.” Patton did a little happy clap. “And yes, you’re supposed to tuck it in.” He added as he went for the door. “I’ll let them know!” Patton slipped out of the room. 

“I might come back with a literal knife in my back.” Remus joked as he tucked his shirt into his jeans.

“I’m sure it will be fine.” Logan chuckled, helping Remus with his collar since he knew Remus would leave it uneven and partially unfolded. He hummed as he slid his hands down Remus’ chest and looked at him in the slightly more formal shirt. “Maybe you had a point about me not being able to keep my hands off you if you wore a suit.” 

“I can be right, sometimes.” Remus placed his hands on top of Logan’s. 

“Sometimes.” Logan echoed with a playful grin. 

“Rude.” Remus winked before giving Logan a quick kiss. 

[screpa]

Levi was fine

Summary: You finally told Levi and Hange of your new relationship with Bertolt. Levi knew that you were more than just a dear friend to him. But he was fine with you being with someone else. Was he?

Notes: (1) This piece was difficult for me to write (T^T) I almost cried a couple of times, as I put myself in Levi’s shoes. I’ve experienced enough heartbreak to know the pain of losing the person I love to someone else. I didn’t want to put my beloved Levi in this situation, but that’s how life is. At times, we have to let go of someone we love and wish them happiness. But, as in Levi’s case, sometimes love needs a detour before arriving to its final destination ^^ (2) Maybe listen to Michael Jackson’s ’She’s out of my life’ when reading this if you want to elevate the gut-wrenching effect. (I guess now you know how I old I am considering the song choice ha-ha-ha. I know classics, okay, I may be old but not THAT old :-D)

Tags: SFW, sad, heartbreaking, lost love, gloomy

Read it here or on AO3, up to you ^^

You don’t really know why you kept postponing to tell your best friends, Levi and Hange, about your new relationship with Bertolt.

You knew it wasn’t because they’d judge you.

You were sure that they wouldn’t see the age and rank gap between you and Bert as problematic. Age was just a number and Bertolt was already the legal age to be intimate with you. As for rank, they knew you were too kind to take advantage of other people. It’d be more likely for Bert to take advantage of your naïveté, but you knew for sure both of them would have your back in the slim chance that would happen.

But you felt they wouldn’t be ecstatic with the news anyway.

Hange may be upset with the news. Your friendship with them couldn’t be considered as purely platonic. You enjoyed hugging, cuddling and giving them light peck kisses, which were normal between close friends.

They were your source of comfort, like a warm fluffy blanket in cold autumn nights.

That slightly changed during one of your pillow talks. Both of you almost crossed the line and realized of the mutual love you had for each other. With the line uncrossed, you maintained a close friendship, although sometimes you were both bothered and gutted by the missed opportunity toward happiness together.

So, you were dispirited by the fact that you were going to break their heart.

As for Levi…

You didn’t really know why you thought he’d be upset with the news. For all you knew, you had a one-sided love toward him. He only saw you as his dear friend and a soldier under his care.

Maybe he’d be upset because he didn’t like change. Maybe he didn’t want you to divert your time for training or for helping him with paperwork to spend time with Bertolt. Or, maybe he just didn’t want to share one of the few people he trusted to someone else.

Whatever it was, you knew he’d be bitter about it.

You decided to just tell them the news quickly like taking off a bandaid. Just blurt it out then leave. Everything would be back to normal the next day. You were sure of it.

Tonight was the perfect opportunity. The three of you were hanging out at Levi’s office to discuss about Hange’s plan to capture a few titans for research. Erwin was still unmoving with the idea, so Hange was trying to get stubborn Levi on their side.

But you didn’t get to tell them because of their petty disagreements. They both had good points but they couldn’t meet in the middle. The argument was so heated that you had to be the middle woman to prevent them from saying things they’d regret later on.

After an hour of their bickering, you were too emotionally drained to say anything to them.

Noticing your dispirited body slumped on the sofa, Hange softened and decided to throw in the towel for the time being. The discussion could continue another day, they thought.

‘Hey, Y/N, tomorrow’s our day off. How about the three of us have tea and sweets together in town in the afternoon? Just to relax for a bit. How about that?’ Hange asked you cheerfully.

At the mention of tea, Levi’s ears perked up and his mood was lifted. He nodded while maintaining his signature stoic expression.

This was the chance you had been waiting for!

With true regret in your voice you told them, ‘That’d be nice, but I have a date tomorrow’.

Both of them stared at you. Levi with his unchanged stoic expression, Hange with clear surprise on their face.

After a minute of silence had passed, Hange asked you in a whisper, ‘A date? With who?’

You took a deep breath and said, ‘Bertolt. We’re together now’.

‘To– together? I thought it was just a date?’ Hange asked in disbelief. You could hear their voice starting to shake.

Tears started to fill your eyes as you realized that their heart was breaking because of you. You had to end this conversation. There was no need to drag it out, knowing that there’d only be more pain.

‘We’ve been together for a while now. So sorry that I didn’t tell both of you earlier. I wanted to, but, just, didn’t know how’.

‘So… It’s serious?’ Hange sounded so miserable.

You felt tears spilling out of your eyes.

‘Yes. I love him’.

You cried not because you felt it was wrong to love Bertolt, yet it was still painful for you to tell them the truth.

Hange looked up to the ceiling, trying to keep their tears from spilling down.

After a while, they took in a deep breath and exhaled long and slow. They turned their face to you, showing you their warm, supportive smile.

They told you cheerfully, ‘I’m happy for you and Bertolt! I genuinely wish you and him nothing but happiness. Let’s have a drink tomorrow night to celebrate, okay? I know where Mobilt kept his homemade rice wine’.

You smiled at them, grateful of their support. ‘I’d love that,’ you sincerely told them.

Then you turned your gaze to Levi. He still had the same stoic expression.

After a minute or two of him staring at you in silence, you stood up to take your leave. You accepted that he wouldn’t say anything. He wasn’t too big with congratulations, so there was no point waiting.

‘We’ll have the tea and sweets next time okay? Don’t have too much fun without me you two’. You tried to sound cheerful although you knew that you sounded so superficial.

Hange wished you good night and you quickly went out of the room.

You ran toward your dorm room.

You knew you’d spend the night crying for your two lost loves.

—

When Y/N closed the door behind her, Levi heard the sound of her running footsteps. The sound echoed in his head. Tap. Tap. Tap. There was nothing in his head other than the gradually fading sound of her footst–

SMACK!

A hard slap on the back of his head jolted him away from his melancholic thoughts.

He rubbed the back of his head and turned his face toward the perpetrator.

He was going to yell at them, but he saw Hange’s angry, tear stained face and kept his silence.

Suddenly Hange kicked the coffee table in front of them so hard that it flipped. They then stood and went toward his office table. They flung everything that was on top of the table across the room. They then let out a long angry growl.

Levi just stared, not knowing how to comfort his friend.

Hange spoke between clenched teeth without looking at him, ‘Remember this. The emptiness you're feeling right now. It was NOT acceptance. It was utter regret’.

Levi could taste the venom from the Hange’s ‘utter regret’.

With that, Hange left him.

He stood up to put the coffee table in its place. The part that Hange kicked was now dented with wood splinters covering the chipped part. He had to wipe and fix that later, he thought. Maybe sand it a bit to get all the splinters out. Wouldn’t want anyone to get an annoying splinter stuck on their clothes or, worse, on their skin.

He went to pick up all of the papers, books and pencils on the floor and placed them tidily on the table. He had to rearrange the papers, he thought. If he delayed it for tomorrow, some important papers could slip somewhere. He had to do it before bed tonight.

But first, he had to clean up the shattered ink bottle. It’d take a while to lift the stain from the floor. That one couldn’t wait. He wouldn’t want an ugly stain on the floor. Better get going to get the cleaning equipment…

It was way past midnight when his office was as neat as before Hange’s outburst. He sat on his office chair and looked out the window. He stared at the darkness outside.

Now he had to confront his thoughts and feelings, which were muted when he was busy tidying up.

Utter regret. Was that what he was feeling at the moment?

What was Y/N to him?

She was a dear friend, indeed. Ever since she gave him the portraits of Isabel and Furlan, Levi had accepted her as his friend, just as he had accepted Erwin and Hange. His friendship with the three of them were built on the solid foundation of trust and compassion.

But he noticed that there was something different, something more with Y/N, compared to his friendship with Erwin and Hange. 

He was somehow drawn to her. Levi appreciated her beauty, but that wasn’t the reason he always discreetly searched for her whenever he entered a room. There were a lot of beautiful women and men in the Regiment, but none was half as charming as Y/N.

Maybe the fact that she knew how to act around him helped. She was never intimidated by him or expected him to act like other people. She let him take his own pace in the relationship while she stayed true to her kind and caring nature.

Oh, she could annoy the heck out of him with her lax attitude toward training and sloppiness during expeditions. Not to mention her vulgarity and foolishness whenever she was with Hange. She could also be rude and mocking toward him. She knew just the right ways to irk him.

But he enjoyed being annoyed at her as it meant he had her by his side.

Even during the most irritating moments, Y/N always soothed him.

He couldn’t remember when he started to place himself beside her whenever they were in the same room. It wasn’t easy since she was friendly with a lot of people in the Regiment. Sometimes he found himself sulking when she was surrounded by people. He couldn’t insert himself in between the others without accidentally touching them. Then he had to settle with gazing at her and listening to her sing-song voice from afar.

He didn’t know what she meant to him until Erwin put it to him straight and simple.

It was after a morning meeting with the Captains and Scout Leaders. Levi was watching Y/N going out of the meeting room with the others.

Erwin, who was still sitting beside him, whispered, 'Stop gazing and tell her’.

He turned to Erwin and saw that he was also looking at Y/N.

‘Tell her what?’

‘That you love her’.

Ah, that was what it was.

Love.

But he never got around to say it. He didn’t know how. The three words were always at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t make them escape from his mouth.

So, he decided to show his love through his actions. Believing, to his undoing, that she’d feel it. He kept her close by spending as much time with her as possible. He made her think that he needed her help with paperwork when he could do them quicker himself.

He trained her hard to ensure that she could fend for herself. Even though he could feel the hate in her eyes during every training. He thought, it’d be better for her to hate him for a while rather than having her injured or, worse, killed.

He thought that their relationship was solid. In his mind, they were already a partner, set for life.

Levi buried his head in his hands. You’re such an idiot, he screamed to himself, you lost her because you could't utter those three simple words.

He heard her running footsteps again. Tap. Tap. Tap. Away, and away she went. To a place he was no longer allowed to follow…

Nothing seemed to change between them the morning after. Y/N was already at the mess hall, at her usual spot. She was talking animatedly with Hange on her side. She greeted him like she always did. Hange threw a cold stare at him then quickly changed to their normal, goofy self.

Levi took some food and sat across Y/N and Hange as he normally did. He’d eat while listening to whatever weird discussion Y/N and Hange were having. He’d winced at their vulgar comments and grunted when they asked for his opinion.

Things didn’t have to change just because she belonged to someone else, he thought.

Y/N excused herself to get to her squad.

Levi then realized something trivial, but could’ve been a clear sign if only he noticed it sooner.

Y/N always left her breakfast milk carton unopened.

If there was something she didn’t like, she’d force him to eat it. You need more nourishment, she’d tell him. But she always kept the milk.

He always gazed at her, so he knew who she gave the milk to.

He sighed, appalled by his stupidity.

Y/N was kind and caring, but even she wouldn’t go out of her way for someone like that.

Like himself, it was the little things that mattered, that separated the special person from the rest of the crowd.

He saw Y/N gave the milk to Bertolt. It was just like any other mornings. She’d cheerfully give the milk cartoon to him and the pine tree would stutter. No. He no longer stuttered. Instead, he looked at her with such tenderness. He didn’t abruptly take it from her like he usually did, but placed his hand on hers. He left his hand there, rubbing his thumb on her skin.

Levi couldn’t watch anymore. He tried to focus on his food.

He didn’t want to watch her walk away, yet he did. Y/N and Bertolt walked side by side, barely touching. But Levi could see clearly the silent intimacy between the two of them.

The following days, weeks and months, Y/N treated him the same way. She was still her kind, rude, foolish, and vulgar self with him. She still helped him with paper work and obediently followed his training. He went back to the routine of discreetly searching for her whenever he entered a room and the deftly positioned himself beside her.

But he’d avoid all of the places where he caught a glimpse of her with Bertolt.

He spent more time monitoring Eren in the abandoned fortress, just so he could be away from the headquarters more.

Yet, he couldn’t be away too long from her, so he arranged a one-on-one training with her once a week. He knew she hated it, but this was the only time he could steal her away from her lover and the others.

He knew it was cowardly of him. But knowing how happy she was with the pine tree, he just had to deny his feelings.

It was enough that she still considered him as her dear friend.

It was enough to have a couple of hours in a week with her.

It was enough to know that she was happy.

As long as she was still alive, nothing else mattered.

Or so he kept telling himself…

--

This story is part the "Detours to Your Heart" series, comprises of stories of YOUR friendship and slow burn romance with Levi Ackerman. You build many interesting relationships with other AOT characters, such as ambiguous friendship/ romance with Hange Zoe, a whirlwind romance with Bertolt Hoover, sibling-like relationship with Jean Kirstein, and many more!

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Im starting a fic 😬 I’ve never done anything like this so please be gentle. Writers, I would love any tips and feedback. Please please please. The first 2 chapters are short; but chapters will get longer as I become more comfortable. Be kind please. I’m not a writer, but this story has been in my heart and I just want to share it in hopes that at least one person enjoys it. 💜

Story warnings: angst, very slow burn (mostly Eddie has feelings), friends to lovers, eventual smut, eventual violence and gore, language, some fluff eventually. Think that’s it but overall 18+ so get outta here babies

Unspoken

-Eddie!andoriginalcharacterreader.-

Eddie was your person, in that stereotype kind of way that everyone talks about. You were pretty sure that even if you and Eddie never met in this life, never knew each other, that your soul would search for him, ache for him. You loved him, more than any person could love someone else. More than anyone should. Beyond the meaning of the word, you loved Eddie. And it took one of the most terrible things to happen to make you realize it.

Part 1

Dee, come on. How long does it take to put on lip gloss?” Eddie was standing in the doorway of your bedroom with this arms crossed, leaned against the frame. Honestly, he was being dramatic. He had already made a point of looking at his empty wrist, counting down the minutes out loud until the time you had agreed to leave. He blew his bangs from his eyes and gave you a his most condescending smile, which was still so beautiful. His brows raised high as you scoffed at him.

“It’s called lip stick, and would you calm down? I’m almost done.” You paused to turn around and glare at him. “And if you make one more comment I’m going to make sure you’re wearing some too.” You turned back around to finish with a playful smile and a wink in his direction. Eddie sighed dramatically and walked over to your bed, slumping down into it with a loud huff. You didn’t notice, but his eyes watched your every move as you finished applying your lipstick, his mind wondering what it would be like if you used your painted lips on him, which he was sure was not what you meant, but it was nice to daydream for just a second.

“What are you smirking about?” You had finished your make up and were walking across the room to grab your bag and pull your boots on. Eddie wasn’t aware that he had been smiling to himself at the thought of your lips on his. His cheeks burned red for a moment before he quickly recovered, clearing his throat loudly.

“Just the fact that you’re getting all dolled up for the guys. You know Gareth is going to be flirting with you the whole time, right?” Eddie quirked one brow at you as he stood from your bed, walking over to you so he could lace your boots up. It was probably a weird thing for friends to do, but this kind of stuff was just normal with Eddie. Mundane things that he made special.

He motioned for you to rest your foot on his knee as he bent down. You decided to kick him in the shin instead and he hissed at the sudden contact.

“Jesus Dee; what the hell was that for!?” He scowled at you, but still moved his hands away from rubbing at his black denim covered leg soothingly to tie up your laces.

“Don’t make jokes, Edward Munson, you’re the one who begged me to come to band practice. Claimed you needed my ‘expertise in words’ remember?” The band had been experimenting with new music and Eddie wanted your opinion on his lyrics. He had practically begged on his knees for you to come listen. You almost smacked him for it, because it reminded you of the time he snuck a peak of your journal when you had accidentally left it on your bed.

September 10th, 1981

You and Eddie were heading to meet Steve and Robin to check out the new arcade, but you had demanded that Eddie drive you home first so you could change into shorts, the cool morning air had disappeared and the afternoon had turned hot and sticky. Begrudgingly he drove you home but insisted he come in, because however short you would be, he would not wait in his van. While you rushed to your dresser, you hadn’t noticed the notebook flipped open on top of your smooth purple comforter, and Eddie took it upon himself to snoop. He was looking for something juicy. Maybe embarrassing words about a crush, secretly hoping it was him, but instead found something unexpected and utterly breathtaking. He knew you were into books and poetry, but never knew you wrote your own. And you had planned to keep it that way. Your words were vulnerable, but that’s not what scared you. You couldn’t stand the thought that you could be terrible at something you loved to do so much. It was too terrifying to possibly face a reality where the things you wrote flat out sucked. So you planned to keep all of that part of yourself locked away until someone worth it had discovered that part of you. You weren’t expecting it to be so soon, and you definitely weren’t expecting it to be Eddie fucking Munson.

He was completely lost in your words. Drowning in the beauty of the deep dive into your mind that no one had seen before. The details in the way you explained normal, every day feelings. The way your words made the white paper and black ink ignite into an array of colors in Eddie’s mind as he continued reading. It was like your words had opened an entirely new universe. You stood there frozen; fuming, and he hadn’t noticed. It took you stomping over to him with your hands balled into fists, snatching your notebook from his hands, and shoving him onto the bed before he came back to earth. He saw the heat in your face, but didn’t take it as the anger it was until your eyes burned holes into his and tears started streaming down your cheeks.

“Dee, I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting it to be—I just thought… but it’s beautiful and, wow I-“

“Stop.” You were shaking with embarrassment and anger, maybe slightly at the compliment he gave but you wouldn’t admit that. He could see how much it upset you, he could sense that he went too far. He took your hand in his and stood up, but crouched his head down so he was eye level with you.

“I’m so sorry. Truly. I fucked up and crossed a line. It’ll never happen again.” He blurted the words out, and you could see the look in his eyes. He was meant it.

You stood there holding his hand in one of yours while the other clung your journal to your chest. You let out a sigh and looked up to the ceiling.

“Just promise me you won’t tell anyone. And please, for the love of all that is holy, DO NOT bring this up again or so help me Munson I will drive that precious van of yours straight into Lovers Lake without a second thought.” Eddie winced but let out a small huff of a laugh at the way you joked, relieved at the small sign that you didn’t hate him. He let your hand go and made a dramatic show of drawing a very crooked plus sign over his chest.

“Cross my heart. I would never. And even if I would, that threat would stop me. I could never let anything happen to my girl. We’ve been through too much together.” You let out a chuckle at the thought of him referring to his van as his girl, knowing full well his girl was that guitar hanging so neatly on his bedroom wall. He slumped back down into your bed while you rushed to the bathroom to change, desperate to read more of your words but not wanting to ever risk hurting you again. So he mentally reminded himself of his promise to never bring it up.

February 16, 1983

Until 3 days ago when he begged you to come with him to practice to listen to his new song, babbling about how there was no one better at words than you and how he needed your expert opinion. He was about to keep going when he realized his mistake and snapped his mouth shut, giving you a pleading look that was begging for forgiveness the moment the words slipped out. If it hadn’t been for his big beautiful chocolate eyes, you would have kept on your promise. But you knew he didn’t mean it, and you actually really liked tagging along for practice, so you agreed.

Eddie smirked at your words while he finished lacing your boots up.

“Oh please, sweetheart. I know you just have a thing for rockstars.” He stood up straight and pretended to play his guitar while whipping his long curls around and winking at you. You in turn pretended to fan yourself at his show, and both of you burst into giggles and you stepped out of the room. One of your favorite things about your friendship with Eddie is that it always came natural, every part of it. Nothing was ever weird for you, even after the journal incident, it was just so easy being his friend. Joking and teasing, but also sharing in the dark moments, like when Jason beat the shit out of Eddie just for looking at him wrong, and Eddie got into his feelings too deep about being an outcast. Or when you found your now ex-boyfriend Scott making out with a cheerleader in the woods, and Eddie let you camp at his trailer and made you nachos while you cried into his chest. It was just unspoken, how much you cared for each other. Best friends didn’t cover it, it was more than that.

To Eddie it was much, much more than that.

End of chapter 1

*thanks for reading! Chapter 2 will be up soon.😉

[snowflowers-ffxiv]

FFxivWrite2024 - #30: Two Heads Are Better Than One

idiom — it is easier for two people who help each other to solve a problem than it is for one person to solve a problem alone

“Wuk Lamat?”

She hadn’t meant to cause the Third Promise alarm, but the Xbr'aal nevertheless yelped as she spun around, hiding something behind her back.

“E-Estrild? What are you doing here?”

Estrild blinked. “My… tent is here?” She nodded in the direction of the one she shared with Alisaie. “I was on my way back from… well, you know. Then I saw you making your way to… Is everything alright?”

Wuk Lamart sighed, shoulders slumping as she held out the item she had been holding. Her travelling bag. While Erenville’s gleaner knapsack held the majority of their shared supplies, each of them also carried their own—especially for items that would be expected to see use in battle such as potions and ethers. “I’m afraid I… must’ve torn this at some point. I didn’t notice it until now…”

Estrild examined the torn cloth. Not a large tear, but…

“…and I don’t want Erenville to see it and comment on my carelessness again is all, but…”

Estrild had a feeling she knew where this was going, but nonetheless waited patiently.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” Wuk Lamat finished miserably. “Namikka would usually help me with something like this, but she’s not here.”

“But I am,” Estrild replied kindly, “I can fix this for you. It won’t take long. Erenville won’t even notice.”

Wuk Lamat’s eyes lit up. “Really? You would do that for me?”

“Of course,” Estrild smiled. “Remember what I said about learning to lean on others?” She nodded at the aetheryte of Many Fires. “Wait for me there. I need to get my sewing kit.”

Before long, the two of them were settled down on the ground over a blanket Estrild had also brought with her. Wuk Lamat watched with a small amount of fascination as Estrild threaded her needle and went to work. Snitch after snitch after snitch, it was easy to fall into a semi-meditative state as she worked, but this time, she took care to remain alert.

So when she heard her companion sigh, she paused and looked up. “Is there something else that’s bothering you?”

Wuk Lamat mumbled under her breath and fidgeted for a time before she spoke again. “Stranding strong in a fight is one thing, but I’m starting to realize, I don’t know how to do much outside of that.”

Estrild had to think. “Sewing, you mean?” she replied mildly.

“Mmhm. As mentioned before, I’ve never really been outside of Tuliyollal, ill-fated forest wanderings aside. So I’ve never had much cause or reason to learn the sort of things one would need to get by on a journey. I’ve always had access to people who could… do things for me. Because I am an adopted child of the Dawnservant.”

“There is nothing wrong with that,” Estrild said carefully. “Especially since you are the kind of person who treats your staff and servants kindly.”

“I never thought to treat them unkindly.”

If my mother worked for someone like you, she likely would have lived longer. She didn’t say that out loud, however. She hadn’t though about her mother’s employers in years. “Well, you did not know how to tame a wild alpaca until recently either. Nor how to turn turn a hundred pel into ten thousand with basket of wool, but you did. It’s never too late to learn.”

Estrild made another stich, the last one. “There,” she said, holding it up closer to the aetheryte, so it would be easier to see the newly made-seam. “As good as new.” She handed the bag back to Wuk Lamat. “If this happens again, I would be happy to teach you.”

The Xbr'aal accepted the offering and rose to her feet. “Thank you so much, Estrild.”

“Remember, we’re here to help.” Estrild collected her supplies, tucking them under am arm as she stood up as well. “Self-sufficiency is important, yes, but take it from someone who had to learn it the hard way. Its better to have trustworthy allies to rely on than waste time being upset about not having the skills to do everything on your own.”

Wuk Lamat nodded. “I understand.” Before Estrild could do so, she knelt and rolled up the blanket the two of them had been sitting on. “Let me. This is the least I can do.”

See? You’re already learning.

[7-minutes-only]

Ember [F]

Spice Level: Fluff Dangers: None Word Count: 1,032 Character/s: Ember Reader: Female Planet: Kalsi Timeline: Main

The slip of paper you pull from the clown woman’s hat is slightly charred around the edges, and has the word “Ember” written on it.

Not an entirely unheard of name. It brings to mind a quieter sort of burn, warm and gentle. The woman who comes forwards as you call out matches it well.

With black hair in an asymmetrical cut, and bright orange eyes, she certainly fits the fire portion of her name. There are ram’s horns on her head, smaller and keeping close to her skull. Her gentle smile and somewhat awkward fidgeting hint at an aloof personality, too. You smile at her, trying to make her feel less nervous.

Before you can speak, though, you’re both ushered into the closet by the clown-dressed woman.

“You both know the rules – seven minutes! Don’t waste them!” she teases, before locking the door, sealing you both inside.

Ember fidgets, and you could almost swear she’s...sort of glowing. There’s a faint white light in her eyes. As her eyes glance around, you end up catching each other’s gaze for a moment, and a mix of emotions settle in your stomach – it feels like butterflies.

“U-Um-” you mumble, quickly averting your eyes away. “Ember is...a nice name. It suits you really well.”

She laughs a little, awkwardly.

“You think so?” she asks. “Well, it isn’t exactly my name...we were all given these slips of paper with fake names on them, for the party. Didn’t you get one?”

No, you didn’t. You shake your head, and she sort of slumps a little in confusion.

“Huh...well, I’m sure it’s nothing. Uh, here, you can-”

She rummages around in her pockets, and hands you a piece of paper. Your fingers brush hers, and they’re...warm. Very warm. On the paper, a small message is written;

“Congratulations on this one-in-a-lifetime chance! For the evening, consider your name Ember. Please refrain from sharing any other name until the event ends.”

“So, Ember isn’t your real name?” you ask, handing the paper back.

“No, it’s not. It’s pretty, though – and would probably get a lot fewer questions about where it comes from.” she answers, chuckling.

You sit in an awkward, though somehow comfortable, silence. It only lasts a few seconds before Ember shifts in place, picking at her fingers.

“Y’know, this...isn’t really the kind of game I’d play normally.” she confesses. “I only agreed to come because I thought maybe I’d end up with-”

She catches herself, and you can feel more warmth in the room. It’s a little suffocating in the tiny space, but you’ll manage.

“S-Sorry, um...that’s a bit rude, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think so.” you assure her. “So, then, if we’re not gonna have heaven in here…”

You place a hand on her leg, further down. She gets even warmer towards her core, it feels like.

“What do you wanna have?”

She thinks for a long moment, debating with herself. Finally, she feels around for your arm, and tugs it gently.

“We could still...get close. If you wanted, I mean. I...I’m a little curious about where you came from.” she offers.

You sit next to her, cuddled up in the small space. Sitting together like this, you have enough room to stretch your legs. Hers are...kind of fuzzy, actually. Very fuzzy. Her feet don’t feel much like feet at all – hard and blocky. Wait, does she-

“Are you...some kind of satyr, or something?” you ask. Between the horns, and the strange legs you can’t see in the dark...maybe.

“Sort of. I’m a bit of a mixed thing, though. Goat, elf...demon.” she confesses. The last word is uneasy, like she’s not sure how you’ll take it.

“Is...uh...is this a good demon world or…?” you ask.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, back home, we...we had a lot of stories. Fictions. Some worlds had evil demons, monsters. Other stories had tragic demons, misunderstood people. Others were pretty much just humans with horns and wings, and sometimes immortality.” you explain. She sort of stiffens.

“Oh. Hmm...a mixed bag, I guess? I’ve heard that my mom was a pretty bad person, but I never met her. I know lots of nicer Demons, though, and my little sister’s...well, she’s not evil, I don’t think.”

“Little sister? Is she at the party?” you ask, not quite understanding how awkward it might be if she was.

Ember sort of shrugs.

“She seems to be coming and going. Not one for social stuff, you know?? Especially not…” she gestures to the closet, to the two of you crammed together. “...this kinda thing. I kinda worry she’s gonna outright refuse to play if somebody pulls her name.” she laughs.

You grin at her. She relaxes a little, and grips your hand. She thinks for a moment, squeezing. Finally, she turns to you, her eyes glowing a little more steadily.

“Y’know...we probably don’t have long left. It would be a waste if we didn’t do anything, wouldn’t it?” she asks.

“You don’t have to.” you assure her. Besides, just talking with her is kind of fun. She shakes her head.

“I kind of...want to. Just a little. Can I ask you to close your eyes, and trust me?” she asks.

You oblige, closing your eyes and relaxing. Warmth spreads across you, like a hug. Ember kisses you, and you feel her hold you, like you’re...precious, in a way. The heat seeps into your skin, your bones. But you don’t feel overheated – in anything, you feel...empowered.

When she pulls away, she pecks your forehead gently, and the overwhelming heat settles into comforting warmth.

“Thanks. I hope I get to see you again.” she says, and you steal a kiss from her as she pulls back.

You both sit for a moment, processing the feelings. Ember laughs, and goes to speak, but is interrupted by the knocking on the door.

“Time’s up! Awful quiet in there…” the clown woman says, and you hear the door click.

Ember smiles at you as the light bathes you both. She helps you up, and exits. As she walks off, she turns back to you.

“I mean it – come find me!” she requests.

You nod, and she smiles before disappearing into the crowd.

[stunted-boars]

Tumblr deletes content under a cut when someone deletes, shoutout to the wayback machine! Doing this on my phone this time, as per usual if i-am-the-altman is out there somewhere and wants this taken down my inbox is open!

Edit: ok so on my end this post is completely out of order, I tried editing the post to no avail. Will take another look at this in the morning/on my PC-_-

ThAshe Fluff that took way longer to write then I thought it would

Transcription under the cut! Lmk if anyone catches any mistakes, it is not easy doing this on a phone

Some SFW ThAshe fluff that @wolfcat-hybrid kind of requested. I hope it was worth the wait! It probably isn’t

Spoilers for like every arc of TI. 

Ashe was exhausted. There was no other way to put it. The ache of bone deep weariness had become all too familiar during her time in the Ban village… From learning the language with Iggy, to the occasional sparing session with Horaven (and sometimes the Bat-masked Ban), her personal time had been severely neglected.

It didn’t help that the only bar in town was somehow staffed by Old Inny. She had little inclination to put up with Old Inny’s senility for alcohol.

With the sun beginning to kiss the horizon, Ashe let out a sigh. Where am I going to get a drink in this place?

As if to answer her question, a commotion outside of a house caught her attention. I wonder what’s going on…

As Ashe drew closer to a crowd of Ban that was growing by the second, the indistinct noise grew clearer, and she recognised Thog’s raised voice. Gods know, I’ve heard it often enough.

“I can’t deal with you when you’re like this!” A pause, and then, “Oh yeah, real mature.” Again, silence. “You know what, fuck you too!” Parting aside the crowd, Thog stalked forward, and Ashe caught a flash of pure Menace. I guess that solves the question of who he was arguing with. She stepped forward, and raised a hand, “Hey, Thog. Rough day?”

“Ashe, you don’t know the half of it. That bat-masked jerk has been pissed at me about something all day, and won’t tell me what the fuck I did…” His shoulders slumped as he fell into step beside Ashe.

“Sounds like you need a drink.” Ashe said, gently elbowing him in the side.

“I need several…” They lapsed into a companionable silence that suited the quiet village and their footsteps lead them Thog’s door. “Speaking of drinks, Ashe, I… uh, liberated a nice vintage from Old Inny and I was wondering if you’d like to… share it with me…” Thog looked at the ground and fidgeted nervously.

“That’s really nice of you, Thog, but you’d just be wasting your ‘vintage’… I can’t get drunk, remember?”

“Ashe, there’s more to drinking than just ‘getting drunk’. Sometimes, it’s about sharing a moment with friends, or remembering those we’ve lost.”

“OK, Thog, but I’m warning you, if you do anything embarrassing, I will remember.”

Entering Thog’s temporary dwelling, Ashe was struck by a bolt of nostalgia. “Hey, Thog, do you remember the last time we got drinks together? Back at Meadshire?”

“Ashe, that period of my life was a constant haze of regret and booze. You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

Getting comfortable on the low sofa (It was nice, and fit the room very well. Whichever Ban Thog had kicked out of here clearly had good taste) Ashe spoke again, “Well, it was shortly after the disappearances started, but before things got too bad. The tavern had closed up early, and we scrounged up a barrel that wasn’t all paint thinner. It actually looked like ale. Or at least, the idea of ale.”

“Oh, fuck, I completely forgot about that!” Thog stopped rummaging through a drawer, and turned around, a bottle in his hand, “We were shit-talking everything in Meadshire!”

“Haha, yeah!” Ashe’s face brightened at the memory. It was one of her only non-depressing ones from her time there.

“Huh. Interesting…” Thog was peering quizzically at Ashe, one eye brow raised slightly.

“What is it? Do I have something on my face?” Frantically scrubbing at her cheeks, Ashe could feel herself beginning to blush. It’s not my fault Xin is always in the hot springs!

“What? Nah, it’s just… That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile in a while. Not to mention how long it’s been since you’ve laughed like that.”

Thinking about it, Ashe realised she had been pretty serious lately. I guess I’ve been so busy trying to figure out what I am, I forgot to be myself… “Well, thanks for pointing that one out Thog. I’ll keep that in mind…”

“It wasn’t a rebuke, Ashe. Unlike some of our friends-” With a cough that sounded suspiciously the name “Inien”, Thog set the bottle and two small glasses on the table “-I can observe without criticising. Besides, you aren’t someone who needs to smile to…” Thog’s voice abruptly cut off.

“Needs to smile to what, Thog?” Ashe crossed her arms, her brow creasing.

“Ugh, I’ll tell you later, can we just start drinking already?” Thog said, as he poured two glasses. Picking them up, he offered one to Ashe.

“Fine, but I consider that a promise. I expect an explanation.”

“And you’ll get one. Don’t sweat it.” Raising his glass, he proclaimed “To absent friends, I guess.” The alcohol swiftly disappeared down his throat.

“To absent friends.” Ashe echoed, following suit.  “Woah, that’s some strong stuff! I think I almost felt something.”

4 drinks…

“Well, I don’t know how Markus keeps his hair so shiny.” Ashe accompanied her statement with a burst of laughter. “I’ve asked, but he just throws a hand-full of glitter into the air and walks away.”

“Is that so… No wonder the bar floor’s always covered with the stuff. I’ll have to have a talk with him sometime…” Thog frowned slightly, “But that’s a worry for later. Pour me another drink, would you?”

7 drinks…

“… and that, Asheling, is why cutlery is so important in Alarani culture.” Thog was not inebriated enough to start slurring his words, but it was a close thing. His shoulders had begun to slump, and his hand shook slightly as he refilled their glasses.

“Interesting. Is that why the bar doesn’t have any?”

“Shut up and drink.”

11 drinks…

“So there I was, elbow deep in a vat of magic potion, Gregor bleeding out on a table-’ Ashe gestured wildly as she recounted the tale of their time under contract in Altreia “-and for all I knew, Markus was being torn to shreds by rabid golems outside.”

“Well, I’m… sorry you had to go through that…” The drinks were clearly catching up to Thog, as he chose his words extremely carefully. “I wish I had done more…”

“Thog, you were responsible for securing us our freedom. You’ve more than made up for it.”

“I guess, but I still feel bad…”

“Would another drink help?”

16 drinks…

The bottle fell to the table, empty. Thog was really out of it, reclining on the couch right next to Ashe. She knew she wasn’t drunk, but Thog’s exhaustion was contagious… I don’t even want to get up. Though she had to admit, there was something comforting about his firmiliar presence beside her. Leaning her head onto his shoulder, she felt herself beginning to drift off to sleep. Right before she slipped away completely, Ashe heard a voice, quiet and far away.

“You aren’t someone who needs to smile to be beautiful, Asheling.” She felt an arm wrap around her shoulder and pull her close. “I hope you know that.”

“Thank you, Thog. For everything.” Ashe mumbled, returning his hug, as she felt her consciousness slip away.

Originally posted August 6th 2016 #Thrilling Intent #I wrote a thing #ThAshe #Alcohol use #Sorry it took so long!

ThAshe Fluff that took way longer to write then I thought it would

Some SFW ThAshe fluff that @wolfcat-hybrid kind of requested. I hope it was worth the wait! It probably isn’t

Spoilers for like every arc of TI. 

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