#i swear these have connections in my brain even if they look random. i have a deep and rich inner world . due to the autism

[jonbinary-archive]

metal genre self ship asks !!

bc i am a silly little guy who likes metal + my silly little f/os...

death metal: who is more intimidating, s/i or f/o?

metalcore: who is the 'um they asked for no pickles...' half of the pairing?

nu metal: does f/o communicate more with words or actions? how about s/i?

doom metal: who gets scared more easily?

classic metal: have f/o and s/i ever attended a concert together? who was it?

power metal: do they get into arguments easily? do they make up easily?

glam metal: does s/i steal clothes from f/o or the other way around?

industrial metal: who stays up late working and who convinces the other to come to bed?

thrash metal: do s/i and f/o dance together? what kind of dancing?

idol metal: what's something s/i does that f/o finds cute or endearing? the other way around?

[beloveds-embrace]

Noona i NEED to yap about this thought I had about the angst Dukedom au so my brain worms will let me sleep. I Imagine a people's princess duchess who spends time with others to fill in for the lack of emotional connection between her and John and people just do not understand why she is out of the house so much. Tea with the ladies? She's there. Charity event for struggling orphans? Duchess is there to help! Church in the middle of the afternoon on a random day? She's in the pew. The house is taken care of, her parties are enjoyable, but why is she gone so often? Duchess just gives a pained smile and says that her husband does not mind her being gone because neither the staff nor him want her there. Why ask her husband for love when he clearly just needed someone to run the duchy?

Hope your sleep went well <3 i nees these men to suffer tbh

The house runs itself.

At least, that is what you tell yourself. The schedules are in place, the staff well-trained, the estate thriving. You have done your duty as Duchess of Price, managing affairs with grace, ensuring that the duchy’s name remains untarnished, that the books are balanced, and the tenants are provided for. You have even done more than what was expected, expanding the duchy’s charitable reach, establishing new programs for the less fortunate, and ensuring the nobility sees the Price name attached to every act of generosity.

And yet, despite all your efforts, there is no warmth in your home.

The staff keep their distance. There are no hushed greetings in the morning, no inquiry into your health when you sit at the long dining table, staring at your untouched, cold meals that are a stark contrast to the others’ steaming dishes.

They serve you as required, but do not linger. They do not ask if you would like another cup of tea, if your shawl is warm enough, if the flowers in your room are to your liking. You don’t need them to do it, but- it’s the emphasized loneliness that hurts the most.

John is no different.

You see him at dinners, always seated across from you, his gaze never lingering, his words few and functional. He speaks to Kyle more than he speaks to you. He shares glances with Simon that you have never been privy to, and when Johnny appears with a dish in hand, John’s expression softens in a way it never does for you.

Meanwhile, you are… tolerated.

And so, you leave.

Your absence from the manor goes unnoticed at first.

The city welcomes you in ways your home never has. Tea with the noble ladies? You never miss an afternoon, sipping floral blends as you listen to idle gossip, smiling where appropriate. A charity event for struggling orphans? You are the first to arrive, personally distributing warm coats and new shoes to children who look at you with something you rarely receive- gratitude.

Church in the middle of the afternoon? You kneel in silent prayer, hands clasped, seeking answers from a God who offers none. And yet the statues and pews are still not as cold towards you as your own husband.

“Duchess, you do so much,” Lady Bethany remarks one afternoon over luncheon, her fan flicking open with an appreciative snap. She’s a pretty thing, recently wed and already draped in the pretty glow of pregnancy. “I swear, I see you more than your own husband must.”

You laugh softly, demure and mindful. “The duchy has many responsibilities.”

“And yet you make time for everything but your home?” Another lady muses, curiosity laced in her tone.

You lower your gaze to your plate, the question hanging in the air. You have learned to navigate this tightrope of expectations, of unspoken truths wrapped in silk and civility.

With a practiced, pained smile, you say: “My husband does not mind my absence.”

You let the words settle before adding, voice barely above a whisper, “Neither he nor the staff particularly miss me.”

The silence that follows is thick.

Lady Bethany’s fan stills, her eyes softening towards you. Another woman fidgets with her gloves. No one speaks, and you take a sip of your tea, the bitterness sharp on your tongue.

Why ask for love when your husband only needed someone to run the duchy?

And the house remains indifferent to your absence- at first.

The staff continue their duties as usual, the butlers maintaining the schedule, the maids ensuring the rooms remain pristine. No one spares a thought for why you are always gone, only that it makes their jobs easier.

Until, one evening, Kyle pauses in the study, glancing at the untouched tea left on a side table. The Duchess usually ensures the staff are well taken care of, he realizes. Who had reminded them today?

No one.

In the kitchens, Johnny frowns when he notices the ledger left open, the list of requested ingredients unusually long. You had always been meticulous, approving the finest quality for the household, ensuring every item was fresh and of the best stock. The kitchen had run smoothly for months, never wanting for anything.

Now, it was as if no one had noticed the difference until the fruits arrived bruised and the meat not quite up to the usual standard.

Simon notices, too. The events you planned, the invitations you managed, the way you always ensured John’s name was spoken with admiration at every gathering- without you, the social scene seemed… quieter. The duchy’s presence less prominent.

And John notices most of all.

At first, he does not think much of it. His wife was always attending some function or another. That was her role, wasn’t it? To manage the estate, to see to the duchy’s reputation?

But then, he starts seeing the effects of your absence the longer you continue to keep to the people and not the duchy.

The reports come in slower. The meetings with city officials, once neatly arranged for his convenience, are now scattered, delayed. The letters from the nobility are fewer, the invitations sparser. The charitable events- ones that bore the Price name- have dwindled in number.

And the house itself… feels empty.

John returns from meetings to silence. Dinners are quiet, even when the others join him. There is no soft rustling of skirts as you pass through the halls, no gentle murmur of your voice as you speak to the staff.

One evening, he enters his study to find a stack of correspondence on his desk- letters you had handled, decisions you had made.

You had been doing so much.

Too much.

And no one had noticed.

When he finally seeks you out, it is not in your chambers.

John finds you in the drawing room, seated by the window, your hands resting idly in your lap. Your gaze is distant, unfocused, the usual light in your eyes dimmed. Winter was drawing nearer, and so gatherings dwindled in number and as a result, you had to spend more time in this cold, unfeeling house.

For the first time in months, he hesitates.

“…You’ve been busy.” He says at last.

You turn your head slightly, but you do not smile. Or at least, put no effort in making your smile appear genuine. “As have you, my lord.”

He swallows, uncertain. “You have done a fine job with the duchy, wife. The duchy is in good standing.”

You inhale, waiting for the unspoken ‘but.’

“But��” He hesitates. “Some matters are not quite as well-managed as before.”

Your lips curl in a faint, humorless smile. “Did it take you long to notice?”

John exhales slowly. He had not noticed, not until things started slipping. But now, looking at you- at the exhaustion in your frame, the emptiness in your eyes- he realizes you had been holding up far more than he had ever given you credit for.

“… You aren’t here anymore much.” His voice is quiet now, almost careful. As if he is speaking to an animal that will bite him if he misspeaks.

You laugh softly, but there is no joy in it. “Would you want to spend your days in a house where you are not wanted? That aside, I assumed you would prefer not to see me at all.

“I never said you weren’t wanted. Nor have I told you I’d prefer it if you were away.”

“You didn’t need to.”

The realization strikes down much like a hammer, and all that’s left in its wake is silence.

John had always assumed you knew- knew that your marriage was one of convenience, that his affections lay elsewhere, that you were never meant to be part of the life he had built with his men.

But looking at you now, he realizes he had mistaken your silence for understanding. Had mistaken your silence for acceptance, for agreement that you were complete fine with this cruel treatmeant.

He had thought you accepted it, that you preferred the distance.

But had you?

Or had you simply endured it because… there was nothing else to do?

You sigh, bowing your head to avoid his gaze. Your voice is quiet when you speak next, bereft of any hope, any warmth.

“…I shall return to my duties in the morning, and I will keep out of everyone’s way, my lord. Goodnight.”

[star-girl69]

Let Me Love You Like A Woman

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

synopsis: you and clarisse broke up two months ago, and when you’re selected to go on a mission together, clarisse just wants you to let her love you.

a/n: i feel feelings about this one….. anyways i hope you all enjoy!!

Let Me Love You Like A Woman - Lana Del Rey

******i want to make this clear: there is absolutely NO smut in this fic. terms like “fuck buddies” and “friends with benefits” are used but only bc i cant think of anything else lmao. all they do is makeout and it is suggestive at times but there is NO SMUT

warnings: this is so bad tbh, what is clarisse doing, she’s so confused my little ladybug, y/n my other ladybug is confused too, OH MY GOD THERES ONLY ONE BED, swearing, hate make out sessions but the hate is one sided, kissing obvi!, deep talks about our feelings which is hard for clarisse, angst, mentions of death blood and monsters, lovesick!! slightly desperate!!! clarisse my cutesy little ladybug, exes/enemies w benefits so like mentions of sex and such, very suggestive lol, as an actual server the restaurant scene hurt me to write lol, but for the plot, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

The Big House is the one place in camp you’re really unfamiliar with. It’s not like you haven’t been there before, it’s just you don’t go there that often.

And unknown places scare you.

There’s hiding places you don’t know about, blind spots you aren’t aware of- corners and small secrets and rules that you haven’t learned yet.

You make your way up the steps and through the porch, the familiar part- you pass by the infirmary and the random office no one uses- until you make it to the connected gondola Chiron and Mr. D. spend most of their time at.

You’re about to turn and enter when a familiar figure appears in front of you.

It hurts to think about how you’ll always know it’s her.

She seems just as shocked to see you but covers it up quickly.

“Y/N,” she smirks, looking you up and down.

You stop, go to turn around and march off in the other direction when you remember you can’t.

Clarisse La Rue doesn’t deserve the dirt under your feet, even though she would probably eat it if you asked- charmspeak used or not.

“Clarisse,” you mumble, and she frowns. You never really called her by her name when you dated, and you know it bothers her now to hear you say it.

That’s exactly why you do it, of course, but the part of you that knows everything about her and will always love her squeezes at the sight of her poorly-hidden sad face.

She’s been slipping up lately. It warms your heart to know that’s because of you.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, genuinely curious.

As a cabin leader, it’s not unusual for Clarisse to be here. But she knows you’re scared of the unknown, and she knows it’s just not in your routine to come here.

“Dunno,” you shrug. “Got called here.”

Her eyes light up. “How funny, so did I.”

You roll your eyes, fighting against the parts of your body that want to run towards her and the parts that want to run away. Instead, you listen to your brain and feel her staring at you as you turn the corner into the gondola.

“Y/N, Clarisse,” Chiron greets with a pleasant smile, setting down a hand of cards face-down. You almost laugh at Mr. D’s disappointed look- Chiron isn’t the trainer of demigods for no reason.

“Yeah, yeah, welcome,” Mr D says, seeming entirely uninterested. You both stand there slightly awkwardly.

Chiron is known to be blunt, so he of course jumps right in.

“We have a mission for the two of you.”

“The two of us? Like, just the two of us?”

The words come out before you can stop them, fingers twisting together and mouth slamming shut. You’re fine, you try to tell yourself, even though your mind and body agree on one thing- being too close to Clarisse will just lead you right back to her.

Clarisse tries to hide her hopeful smile, but you see through it. You loved her for so long, of course you see through it.

“Uh… yes,” Chiron says. You clench your fists.

Mr D seems interested now, especially after your outburst.

“Oh,” he laughs. “I see.” He gestures between the two of you, “there’s bad blood.”

Chiron presses his lips together.

“Nothing that doesn’t make us capable of going on this mission,” Clarisse says, taking a step forward. She smiles at you, but doesn’t make a move to touch you. At least she knows some limits, even if they don’t matter now.

“Well,” Chiron continues, seeming to regret his decision but deciding it’s too late. “Y/N. Your charmspeak, I feel, will be extremely important to this mission. And, Clarisse, daughter of Ares- your skills in battle are nothing to scoff at. There is an item I require the retrieval of. A friend left it in a P.o. box in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. The journey is not particularly perilous, but being a demigod carries an affinity for danger.”

You nod, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I trust the two of you will be able to put aside your… ‘bad blood’ and complete your mission?”

Maybe this mission will be good for you. It certainly nowhere near the kleos of a quest, but more so gives you bonus points with Chiron. That could be helpful.

Clarisse looks at you.

“Oh, yes. Don’t worry.”

—-

“Y/N.”

You walk away from Clarisse pointedly, hoping she’ll take the hint.

You’ve decided you’ll do this quest. If you ever did want to be a cabin leader in the future- you either had to be well liked or the best. As a daughter of Aphrodite, you were already well liked- conversation and flattery came as easy to you as breathing.

Even before you learned how to use your charmspeak, you could sweet talk almost anyone into doing whatever you wanted. You really needed an A on that test? A few tears and some master manipulation- suddenly that A was yours.

But, Chiron needed to like you too.

You do this quest for him- which he choose you for- and then you earn even more of his respect.

It was such a simple exchange. It could be such a simple exchange, except if the girl hot on your heels wasn’t your partner.

She finally manages to grab your wrist and whip you back around so you’re facing her.

She smiles.

“I’ll always catch you, you know. No use in running, really.”

“At least I’ll go down fighting,” you say, looking anywhere but her eyes like portals that suck you in. She’s so close to you.

If this was the before you would wrap your arms around her neck and hers would go to your waist. Even if you were mad at her, she would press her body close to yours and kiss the corner of your lips- Clarisse made it her life’s mission to know every inch of you, and she succeeded. She would know the exact way to calm you down and get you to look at her and hear her out.

And most of the time you were being dramatic, or simply joking, and then she would kiss you and it would all be fine again.

Except it’s not the before. It’s the after, and your heart hurts being so close to her.

“What do you want, Clarisse?” you sigh.

“I just wanted to talk to you.”

Your chest blazes. “Go talk to literally anyone else.”

Her face hardens.

“How many times do I have to tell you before you understand that you are the only person I care about?”

You rip your hand away from her grip.

“Shut up,” you hiss, turning and walking away.

“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow at the gates,” you can feel her smile. “And then I’ll see you all on our mission, huh?”

“You’re crazy!”

—-

You walk into the Hermes cabin and fall face first onto your best friend Marley’s bed.

She looks up from her book and laughs.

“Oh, babe, what happened?” she asks, scratching the back of your scalp as you pull yourself up into your elbows and place your head in her lap.

“Mission,” you groan.

She stops. “A mission? For Chiron? Gods, Y/N that’s amazing-”

“With Clarisse.”

She takes her hand away from your scalp and moves to your chin, lifting you up.

As much as Clarisse hurt you and you hate her, Marley had always had a special sort of hatred for her. Even when you were happy and dating- you would tease her that maybe she’s actually a daughter of Ares, seeing how angry she was.

She was always overprotective, she insisted she just had a bad feeling about her- but eventually she stopped and you thought you could have it all.

“I’m sorry,” Marley laughs. “I don’t think I heard you right.”

You put your lips right up to her ear.

“MISSION WITH CLARISSE-”

“Y/N!” she yells and pushes you away, groaning as she holds her ear. “My ears are bleeding now, oh my Gods-”

“You’ll be fine,” you groan, settling back into her lap. “I’m the one who actually has to go with her.”

“Actually?” she whispers after a tense moment. “You actually have to go with her?”

“It’s fine,” you mumble.

“It’s not. Maybe I-I can talk to Chiron, or maybe I could come with you, huh?”

“No, thanks, Marls. It’s alright, really.”

She stares down at you, head tilted slightly to the side. Marley has always been exceptionally good at hiding her emotions. But you can tell she’s angry. She’s scared.

She’s your best friend and you will always love her in the most special way.

“I don’t want you to go,” she whispers.

The Hermes cabin is always a bustle of activity. But when you’re just here with Marley, it’s the two of you. It’s perfect. It’s what you’ve always wanted- selfishly- to feel special. You feel special with her eyes on you, your head in her lap. She’s your best friend.

You put your hand on her face.

“As much as I hate it, we both know Clarisse won’t let anything happen to me. I’ll be safe.”

“Yeah, but what if she does something to you?”

What if she does absolutely nothing and you fall in love with her all over again?

You always thought that all that stuff about feeling your heart physically break couldn’t be true- but you know it is. You felt it break and every time you look at Clarisse and it can’t be like it was before your heart breaks a little more.

Clarisse acted like you were some big secret that was a chore to hide, and then when you were in her arms she would call you the prettiest girl. It was like whiplash, feeling her touch so tenderly and then not even being allowed to look at her in public. And you wanted so badly to tell everyone that she was yours and you were hers- but she just couldn’t.

And you don’t care about the reason behind that, not after that one night, not after she told you she could never love you.

She doesn’t really want you. She acts like she does, but she only misses you on the surface. Sure, you miss her body, but you miss your late night talks and the way she was always there to protect you, the way she made you feel. You like the person you are with her.

She wants an idea of you, she wants you under her, she wants power and control.

You think maybe a part of her really does regret losing you that night. But, she laid it all out that night. What she feels doesn’t make up for what she said. She doesn’t love you because she’s insecure, because she’s self-serving and power hungry.

She makes you feel stupid waiting for her, but why would you wait for someone else when you could wait for her to come back? You don’t like the unknown, and Clarisse is the one thing you really know.

You look into Marley’s eyes now.

“It will be good for me,” you whisper. “I’ll earn Chiron’s respect.”

Marley kisses your cheek.

“I know. I just don’t want you to go, and I know that makes me selfish but- still.”

“I know, Marls. I know,” you whisper. But this will be good for you, and it’s already been done. You already accepted it.

Marley helps you pack and you watch her anger. You watch her roughness, you watch the fire in her eyes- and Gods, does it make you feel special to have a friend like her.

You only wish you could make Clarisse feel like that too.

—-

The bus ride is boring.

Clarisse, for some merciful reason, decides not to torture you and instead throw her dagger up and down.

But you’re bored.

You’ve been reading a book Marley lended you, something boring and wonderfully distracting about the history of the four wind gods- you think about the wind and not about the way Clarisse’s thigh is pressed up next to yours.

It’s only been two months.

As much as you hate it, you won’t even admit it to Marley, but you’ll admit it to yourself in the quietness of the back of the bus.

You close the book and stuff it into your backpack.

You miss her.

“I’m bored,” you announce before you can second guess yourself.

“Okay,” Clarisse hums, picking at a speck of hardened dirt on her dagger. “I know a lot of things we could do to remedy that.”

Your cheeks flush, but you hold your ground. “I’m not going to kiss you. One, it smells like shit back here and two, we’re not dating anymore.”

“True, but doesn’t that just make it more fun?”

“What?”

Her hand moves to your thigh and you let yourself sink into the before.

“We aren’t supposed to- your best-fuckin’-friend would skin me alive. But we both know you want to.”

“I don’t want my lips anywhere near you.”

She just smiles at you, and you suddenly realize you’ve been staring into her eyes this entire time.

She takes her hand off of you and turns away, and this part of you aches so badly for the before- but it’s after. But she doesn’t love you and she just wants you.

But you want her too. You want her so bad, and maybe if you just let yourself sink into her one more time then you can move on. One good goodbye and you’ll be fine.

“Take a nap, then,” she suggests. “We still have another hour before the next rest stop, I’ll wake you up.”

“Okay,” you mumble, a part of you loathing listening to her, but a nap sounds good.

—-

You sleep the best you ever have since you broke up.

Clarisse was always sneaking into your bed, or you into hers, and she was always so warm and made you feel so safe. You always slept with her. And while you could still fall asleep fine without her- it just wasn’t the same.

You wake up to the sound of the bus doors opening and people talking around you.

“Y/N,” Clarisse whispers. “Wake up.”

You realize your head is on her shoulder.

You push her away from you, she just laughs and stands up.

“So stubborn,” she mumbles, leaning down to dig into her bag for the money Chiron gave you.

You resist the urge to say something snarky back, instead choosing to squeeze past her and out into the aisle.

She’s following behind you in a second, her bag zipping up and getting thrown back under the seat.

She’s right up in your ear.

“I know you hate me,” she whispers. “But you can’t just go running off. What if there was a monster right outside the doors?”

The two of you step off of the bus, the bright sunshine making your squint.

You pull up your shirt and pat your hip where your dagger rests.

“I’d kill it.”

You both know you probably couldn’t.

She laughs. “Is that the dagger I gave you?”

Your face freezes but you keep walking into the rest stop.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you huff.

She sticks her fingers through the loop of your jeans and pulls you into an aisle filled with chips. You suddenly find a bag of Cheetos very interesting.

She looks at your face, into your eyes, and traces her fingers over the dagger’s handle.

“Hm, mine.”

You miss her so bad. You never knew it was possible to miss someone this much. You miss her body and her mind and her voice. You miss her hands and her lips and the way she made you feel.

You don’t pull away. How can you pull away?

It was easy to ignore her when she wasn’t right in front of you, but there’s this part of you that loves her and wants to believe her. Then there’s another part that wants to see her suffer like she did to you.

You push her off of you. “Don’t touch me.”

Again, she just smiles, and that’s really starting to piss you off.

—-

You’re somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania at a bus stop, waiting to cross the lonesome highway to the other side of the street where a train station awaits you.

“Are you okay?” Clarisse asks, and you realize she’s already stepped out onto the road and you’ve been staring off into nothing. You quickly follow her, half running across the road until you get to the sweet, sweet air conditioned station.

“Yeah, ‘m fine.”

In reality, you have to keep yourself distracted so you don’t fall back into her. You’ve decided it not about whether or not you love or want to hear her out- it’s about the way she kisses you and the way her skin feels against yours.

You can want her, here, where no one will know.

You’ll swear her to secrecy, and she’ll shut up just for the chance of more. And you don’t know if you’ll give it to her.

The station is oddly busy.

You have this horribly uneasy feeling.

You make your way into the line anyways, snatching the tickets from where they’re scrunched up in her hand, trying your best to flatten them again.

She laughs. You refuse to feel the way it makes your heart ache. You think about the other reasons she makes your heart ache.

You see something, shiny and black out of the corner of your eye. When you look over, the indented entrance to a janitor’s closet is marked in shadows.

But you trust yourself.

“I think I just saw something,” you whisper.

She still makes you feel safe. She’s one of the most talented warriors at camp and she loves you- even Marley admitted she won’t let anything happen to you.

She follows your gaze. And she doesn’t see anything.

“Okay,” she murmurs. She trusts you too. Her eyes flick between the shortening line and the shadows. “Maybe one more minute then we’re on the train.”

“Yeah,” you agree, slipping your hand into hers. You can hear her inhale sharply. She’s not phased by a potential monster, but you holding her hand makes her face flush.

Why is she so fucking confusing?

As far as you can tell, she just wants to be fuck buddies- so why is she blushing as you hold her hand?

She squeezes your hand, and Clarisse is right, you make it to the front of the line. The man checks your tickets and hole punches them, welcoming you back into the outdoors.

You look over your shoulder, and something shiny reflects in the sunlight, still in the shadows of the building.

“Clarisse.”

She seems to see it too.

“I can’t tell what it is,” you say.

She tugs you along. “I don’t want to find out.”

When you finally step foot onto the train you take your hand from Clarisse’s and look down at the tickets. Cabin 4A. It’s near the front, so you find it fairly quick- just a simple one room cabin.

You quickly barricade yourself inside, drawing the curtains and setting your stuff on the floor.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“That was tense,” you mutter. Clarisse holds her wrist. She nods, staring down at your feet before sighing.

Somehow, it’s six o’clock. You dig into your snacks, neither of you feeling like leaving the safety of the cabin to go to the dining cart.

The train car has two benches facing each other, overhead storage and a large window. There’s practically no room in between the two benches- the car is maybe 5 feet wide.

You miss Marley. You could always talk to her from across the pavilion during a meal- entire conversations with just your eyes. You miss your siblings, their conversation filling up the silence. Here, there’s nothing.

It’s so silent, and yet it’s that comfortable silence with Clarisse. It makes you miss the before.

That’s all you’ve been doing- missing things and wishing they were different.

The train starts and you stare out the window, the rolling hills and the trees and the small creek. You can feel Clarisse looking at you. You try your best to ignore the way her gaze makes you feel- but you’re alone in this cabin. There’s no one else here. There’s no one else to know if you give in one time.

Something slams against the door.

You breathe in and Clarisse grabs her spear.

“Should I open it?” you whisper, standing up. She sticks out her spear to stop you from moving forward.

The two of you listen, but nothing else happens.

It wasn’t a knock. It sounded sort of like a ball being kicked into the door.

“I’m opening it,” you decide, curiosity killing you, pushing Clarisse’s spear aside.

“Y/N,” she warns, but you’ve already slid open the door.

Absolutely nothing is there. You look out the adjacent windows, down the hallways lined with red carpet.

You shrug. “Nothing’s here-”

It’s cold and scaly when it lands on you.

The same black shiny thing you saw, it’s slithering around your neck, cutting off your air supply immediately. You can’t even scream you’re too scared, hands clawing at your neck but it squeezes and one of its heads rears up to attack your chest-

Clarisse’s spear sails right through its raised head.

It drops, you fall back, gasping, watching as she pins it under her boot and lifts the spear out of it. It’s wriggling and trying to break free- but she stabs it through its other head.

It’s an amphisbaena. A horrible, scaly black snake-sort of thing with a head on each end.

You rub your chest, swallowing a lump in your throat as Clarisse casually picks up the now dead monster and opens the adjacent emergency exit window in the hallway- throwing it out into the middle of nowhere.

She turns back around, frowning at the blood coating the ends of her spear-

You slam into her. You’re breathing so heavily, you still feel like it’s around your neck, but Clarisse carefully wraps her arms around your waist, letting you lean against her as your shaky hands massage your neck.

No one would know.

Her spear falls to the floor.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s dead,” she whispers, kicking the cabin door closed with her foot.

No one would know.

“Thank you,” you breathe. “Oh, Gods, thank you, Clarisse.”

“No problem,” she says.

No one would know.

“Clar,” you mumble. She stiffens at the nickname. She tenderly brings one hand up to your face, and she wants you just as much as you want her- that’s all this is about. An exchange. You’ll kiss her for the last time and you’ll finally get over her.

“I know,” she mumbles, she feels the burning in her stomach too. You’re connected by that in this one moment, your mutual desire and need. Except she has a need for a new beginning, and you have a need for an end.

It’s so simple.

You both can get what you want from this trip.

“I know,” she says again, her nose touching yours. Your breaths mix in the air. “I know, I miss you so much… so bad, Y/N, you don’t…”

“Show me,” you whisper against her lips, and she does.

You can feel it all, the regret you don’t care about, and the desire and want and need you do care about.

You need to feel more of that. You need to feel special, so when your back hits the the door and her hands are all over you, you tilt your head back and look up at the ceiling, mouth twisted into a moan.

You need her to make you feel special. You don’t feel special without her, without her rough hands and her soft lips. It’s the one trait from your mother that you somewhat despise- the innate need to be the center, to be the focus, to feel special. She’s the only one who has ever made you feel like this.

No one else will ever come close.

“I hate you,” you breathe. You can’t think, all your walls are down. “I hate you so much and I still…. I still…”

She kisses you again so you don’t have to say it.

—-

The bed is scratchy and uncomfortable, but there’s only one- and it’s so tiny you’re pressed right up against Clarisse. She doesn’t wrap her arm around you, even though you wish she would, if only because you’re cold.

Not because you’re still irrecoverably in love with her and you know she won’t. And even if she does, it won’t be in the way you want it.

How can she kiss you like she loves you yet claim she never will? How can one kiss make you so weak in the knees that you’re genuinely considering doing this for any scrap of her you can get?

You stare up the ceiling for a long time, until you come to that weird space where you’re so tired you can’t move and your eyes are closed, but you’re still awake.

She wraps her arm around your waist and kisses your temple.

—-

The next time she kisses you you’ve gotten used to this whole making out with no strings thing.

You’re about to get off the train, so you tidy your stuff and head to the dining cart for pretty pastries and bagels and some fruit. On your way back, maybe 15 minutes left in your ride, someone in a uniform sees two teenage girls heading alone into a room.

When he asks where your parents are, can he see your tickets, you panic and charmspeak him to forget he ever saw this and walk away.

“Close,” you laugh, and Clarisse mumbles some sort of noncommittal agreement before smashing her lips onto yours.

You gasp but kiss her back, just reveling in having her hands on you. Her hands tangle in your hair, tugging back so she has better access to your neck- the side of it already sporting a hickey from last night.

“Did I ever tell you how fucking hot you are when you use your charmspeak?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble, because you can’t think of anything when her lips are on your neck.

—-

The station is luckily only 20 minutes away from the P.o. box, so the walk is quick through the streets of Myrtle Beach. It’s so loud here. There’s cars constantly whizzing past you, people yelling and honking, sirens in the distance. It’s confusing. It’s so different from Camp.

“I fucking hate this place,” you mumble, fidgeting with a loose string on your backpack.

“I do too,” Clarisse answers, but not for the same reasons. Her eyes whip around, searching for anything hiding in the shadows- but the sky is so blue and the sun makes your skin so warm- it seems unfathomable that any monsters would be here.

Of course, they’re here. They just haven’t come out yet.

Clarisse has been angry at the world for as long as you can remember, but you always thought her roughness balanced out with your softness. Ares and Aphrodite, love and war, peace and violence.

You always thought you could bring out that little bit of softness in her.

“On your left!”

Clarisse drags you out of the way just for a man on a bike to speed past you- your eyes flick to the perfectly usable bike lane on the street.

“Asshole,” you mutter.

“Asshole!” Clarisse shouts after him at the same time. He flips you off and continues shouting at more people to move.

Her hand is digging into your arm. She lets go after she huffs, muttering a few more choice words.

She keeps glaring at every honking car and random pedestrian. You roll your eyes when she yells at some random car to go die, laughing.

“Always fuckin’ honking,” she mutters. You know if she ever got behind the wheel, she would do the exact same thing.

“You’re not any better,” you tell her, nudging her hand that’s currently balled up into a fist.

“Yeah, well, I have a reason to be mad.”

Clarisse is angry at the world, but you know she has reasons. She’s not just angry for the sake of being angry, although she finds comfort in the familiar just like you, she is angry at the world that has done nothing but wrong her time and time again.

Sometimes you wish you could have as much fire in you as her. And two months ago, you thought she had enough fire in her for the both of us.

“Why don’t we grab the box and then go to lunch?” you suggest, getting the feeling that Clarisse is about to explode. She looks at you. “We have a few hours until our train back, hm?”

“Yeah, okay.”

—-

Chiron said this mission wasn’t going to be that dangerous, but you are surprised when it really is that easy. You take the key out from the envelope Chiron gave you, opening the blue box and coming out with a small box. It almost looks like some sort of fancy necklace- a long black box with a silver bow on the outside.

“This feels too easy,” Clarisse says as you lean down to carefully place it in your bag.

You shrug. “You’re always so paranoid, just let it all come naturally. Some things are easy, Clar.”

She stares at you for a moment.

“I guess,” she says, sticking out her hand to help you up before you both make your way back out onto the streets.

Her spear is hidden by the mist, strapped to her back, and you’re sure she has a bunch of little daggers strapped all over her. You scan the busy street.

Clarisse snorts at a restaurant called “Mother Earth Green Food” and her eyes light up at the sight of a 80’s style diner- “Mr. Steve’s Burgers and Bacon”.

“We’re going there,” she declares, and you roll your eyes but follow her across the street. It’s not that busy, seeing as it’s still early, so you’re seated quickly. It feels so good and so wrong to be here across from her like this.

It feels like before. Except some sort of alternate reality, where you actually left camp and got to be like this. You still want her and your trip’s not over yet, so you sink into it.

“Hey guys, I’m Miley and I’ll be your server today. What can I get you for drinks?”

She’s got long dirty blonde hair, tied up in two very neat and impressive space buns. Her skin is tan, but you suppose if she lives near the beach then everyone’s skin is tan, really.

“I really like your hair,” you tell her, pointing to the side of her head. She smiles and bounces one of them in her hand.

“Took me forever,” she chuckles. “I love yours, such a pretty color.” You cheeks blush as you thank her.

She smiles at you and goes off to get them, so you turn back to your menu. Clarisse’s foot taps against the floor.

“What are you thinking of getting?”

She sets her menu down and points to some sort of monstrous burger called “The Bomb.”

You laugh. “The Bomb,” you mock. “Will it explode in your stomach, or something?”

She mumbles something under her breath, staring off towards the counter, and you can tell by the look on her face it’s not anything nice.

“What was that?”

She presses her lips together. “Nothing,” she hums.

You shoot her an odd look but she pointedly looks away, and as much as you want to, you decide not to push.

Miley comes back with your drinks, and you thank her as she sets them down. Clarisse mumbles a thank you too after you kick her foot.

“Okay, and what can I get you guys to eat today?”

You have to kick Clarisse again to remind her to say please.

You smile apologetically up at Miley for Clarisse’s sour mood, but she seems not to care, smiling back at you and saying something about how she’ll make sure it’s out quick for you.

“‘I’ll make sure it comes out quick for you,’” Clarisse mocks, her voice a pitch higher.

“Yeah. Isn’t she so nice? And yet here you are treating her like shit.”

“She’s sucking up for a good tip.”

“Or maybe she’s just nice, Clarisse. There are nice people in the world, you know. Not everyone is all dark and brooding or bitchy.”

The silences stretches for a second too long. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

You hum, sitting on your hands and staring out the window. It’s times like this your miss your mortal childhood, having access to electronics meant you were never bored. You debate taking out the book Marley loaned you, but you don’t get the chance to.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Clarisse announces. “Come with me.” She’s already walking away.

“Who’s gonna watch our stuff?”

“Tell fuckin’ Miley to do it, I don’t care.”

You look around. There’s not many people in the restaurant, and you’re curious and bored- so you follow her. The door swings closed behind her, and it takes you a second to follow her in.

You think she’s disappeared, the bathroom empty with two open stalls. The door is kicked closed behind you. You turn around and Clarisse pushes you into the nearest bathroom, her hands on your waist- you moan in surprise, letting her flip the two of you around and press you against the door, her hand leaving your waist to make quick work of the lock.

“Clarisse,” you breathe. “What’s going on?”

“Do you want me to stop?”

You don’t answer and she kisses you deeper.

—-

“Clarisse.”

She’s been smiling at your neck a little too obviously, and when she finally lets you out from under her lips and hands, you immediately turn around and head for the mirror.

“Clarisse,” you repeat.

She’s looking at you in the mirror and smiling. Actually fucking smiling.

“What is wrong with you?!” you yell, turning on the cold water and frantically bringing it to the red hickies on your neck. “Are you a vampire? Oh, my Gods, Clarisse, this is so fucking embarrassing!”

“It’s not,” she huffs. “You’ll be fine.”

“Cl-” but she’s already left. She really has to stop doing that.

—-

Lunch is fine, you leave Miley a nice tip, even though Clarisse scoffs and mumbles that she wasn’t that good- but you feel so bad that she had to watch you wiggle in your seat, desperately trying to hide your neck as Clarisse ran her foot up and down the side of your leg.

You ignore her the entire walk to the station, she barely hides the smug look on her face. Is she just intent on making you seem stupid and weak? Does she want to embarrass you? She knows. She knows you’re still in love with her and she’s playing you like a fiddle.

You thought Clarisse to be a lot of things, and you know she’s cruel and ruthless- but you never thought she could be this way towards you.

You make it onto the train with no problems, and you’re desperate to just get out of this place and back to camp where you can ignore her. You had one last final hurrah, and now you need to forget her.

You stare pointedly out the window. You ate dinner in the dining cart in silence, Clarisse didn’t try to touch you again, but she seems bored of letting you sulk now that there’s nothing else to entertain her.

It’s only about 7:00 pm- you still have an entire night with her, and a bus ride the next day. Why are the Gods torturing you like this?

“Y/N,” Clarisse says. You’re sitting across from each other. Her foot kicks at yours. “C’mere,” she pats the space next to her on the bench.

You snort. “You’re crazy. I’m not sitting near you.”

She shrugs and stands up, sitting next to you while you gasp in exasperation.

“Bitch,” you mumble, clenching your fists at you stand. She plants her hand on the window, trapping you in with her arm.

“Don’t be mean.”

You fold your arms and stare out the window. She’s right at your shoulder, whispering in your ear even though your alone- it makes you feel so special your head gets all dizzy.

“I want you, Y/N.” Not the way you want her.

“I. Don’t. Care.”

She laughs. You can see her reflection in the mirror, she’s laughing and smiling fondly- staring at you.

You whip around and point your finger at her.

“I won’t let you treat me like a rag doll anymore.”

Her smile falls.

“I used to be something you could just swing around, but I’m not anymore. I won’t ever be a toy for you, Clarisse. These past two days were fun, but they were goodbye. When we get back to Camp I’m getting over you, because I’ve spent too much time waiting for you.”

Her hand falls from the window, and she backs away from you.

—-

When you realize that this train also features another small, single bed, you resist the urge to stomp your feet like a child. Instead, you pretend like it’s all fine, a part of you pretends it’s that alternate before- Clarisse turning around while you change and you leave to brush your teeth and then you come back to her in bed.

You lay down, body unwillingly pressed up against hers. She doesn’t touch you, at least, and it’s tense and silent until she breaks it. Her hand finds yours through the sheets and blankets.

“Y/N.”

You try to shake her hand off of you, mumbling that she’s using your tiredness to manipulate you.

“Do you really think that’s all you were to me?”

You’re frozen, she’s right up against your back, breath tickling your shoulder and voice in your ear again.

Your hand still fits perfectly in hers.

“A toy?”

“What else was I supposed to think?”

She utters the two words you never thought you would hear her say.

“I’m sorry.”

Your breathe hitches.

“I-I know I’ve been stupid, I’m not totally dumb. I just, I had it in my head that I could make you fall in love with me all over again. And then I could do it right, I could fix it, and you could teach me how to love you and I would do it right, Y/N. And then I… I got jealous. Because that fucking server was flirting with you, she was, and I got fucking jealous and I fucked it all up.”

She’s breathing heavily at your shoulder.

“I was scared, Y/N. And that… I didn’t know how to deal with that. I was scared because I love you so much I know I would do anything you asked me too. So, I said those stupid things that night, I just lied because I was scared, and I’ll never forgive myself for the way I made you feel. I don’t deserve another chance, but I want to show you that I can do it right. I can do it however you want me too, as long as you teach me.”

It’s silent for a moment.

“I want you to let me love you.”

She lets go of your hand.

“You don’t have to say anything, I guess,” she swallows. “I mean, if I was you I would have killed me-”

“Really?” you voice comes out like a broken whisper, sitting up so you can look into her eyes. You try to tell if she’s lying, but you can’t. It hurts and it aches so good and she’s not lying.

“Y-yeah, I would have killed me.”

You smile. “No, dumbass, do you really love me?”

“Oh,” she blinks, sitting up too. “Y/N, I love you so much that I’ll never be the same person again.”

You don’t want to kiss her. All you’ve been doing is kissing her, sinking into that hard and rough side of your relationship that’s just hot desire.

But there’s a soft part to Clarisse that you bring out. And you bring it out now, winding your arms around her neck, breathing heavily as you rest your head on her shoulder. She hugs you, her arms are so strong, she always gives the best hugs- and kisses your temple like she did when she thought you were sleeping.

She loved you even when she didn’t know you would feel it.

Your fingers dig into her back.

“I love you,” she says again, softly, like she’s caressing the words with such a reverence that they were bathed in golden ichor. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too,” you say back, you let her love you, and it’s the most true thing you’ve ever known.

—-

“Ah, young warriors!” Chiron says, holding his hands out.

Of course, on the tail end of your trip you had encountered tons of little monsters- more amphisbaena, even a juvenile drakon that could barely spit acid. Clarisse had made a dazzling show of killing all of them, and unlike the first amphisbaena- none of them got close enough to touch you.

You had to charmspeak the train conductor, the police officer at the station, and the bus driver. You wonder faintly if your mother had been looking out for you, helping you love Clarisse again.

Of course, all of those instances ended in Clarisse pulling you into the nearest corner.

It’s different, now that you know that you live each other. She still kisses you with that rough deepness, like she’s starved, like she’s trying to breathe you in, but her hands are so soft around you. She holds your waist close to you, not like she just wants to feel you body, but like she just wants to be close to you.

You swing your backpack off of your shoulder, you can feel your mascara smeared down your face from the heat, digging into your bag for the black box.

Chiron smiles and holds his hands out for you to place them in. “You have my thanks,” he says, laying the box into his hand.

You’re surprised when all he does is take out a simple pen. It looks like a nice pen, sure, but still just a pen.

He uncaps it, letting it fall to the concrete, when it suddenly transforms into a sword. You yelp and jump back, Clarisse puts her arm in front of you, and Chiron laughs triumphantly.

“Beautiful!” he says, admiring the carefully crafted sword.

Mr. D dissolves into a fit of laughter. “No more bad blood, huh?”

Clarisse drops her hand from where it reaches for her spear, and her other arm from across your body. Her hands drop to her sides, her face turns back into a mask of indifference and she shrugs.

Mr. D seems to find that even more funny, and Chiron dismisses you with a wave of his hand, staring in awe at the silver sword.

Clarisse presses her lips together into a tight line until you smack a kiss on her cheek.

“Love you,” you sing, and her face breaks out into a wide smile. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, and it’s the only thing you ever want to know. All you need to know is her and her love.

—-

marley when she finds out clarisse and y/n are dating again: if you EVER and i mean EVER hurt her again i will torture you in ways not even imagined yet.

clarisse: ok yes i promise 😟😟

—-

clarisse when she realized she was in love with y/n: NO NO NO NO NEW FEELINGS NO I REJECT THIS AND I MUST RUN AWAY IN FACT THIS WILL NOT HAPPEN NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

also clarisse when she realized she just broke up with y/n: OH GODS NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO WHAT HAVE I DONE NO NO NO NO PLEASE NO NO NO

—-

honorable mention to y/n fuck em’ and hate em’ l/n

another honorable mention to clarisse “none of them got close enough to hurt you” la rue

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish

@sincerely-silk @lacytalks

—-

pls ignore it’s for the acc aesthetics thank you!!

[kitthepurplepotato]

Chapter 22 - The hero Gala

Summary: The cat is out of the bag - Izuku is in trouble.

Warnings: swear words, mentions of sexual shenanigans, angst - IM SORRY GUYS

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1st Chapter Master List Support the potato

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Izuku’s friends tried their best to change Izuku’s mind about the whole Gala situation but their words fell on deaf ears every time; Izuku was adamant that he has no rights to be there and no one could change his mind, not even you.

There was a weird tension in the air between you two after the trip was over; Izuku went back into his shell right as you opened the door to his apartment and the only time you managed to make him smile was when you sneaked under his covers and cheekily kissed his thighs while giggling to yourself like a child or other cheeky shenanigans. Apparently, Izuku adores moments like that; when he is loved, appreciated, without the need to prove himself worthy. Izuku loves to be loved, especially by you, and even though you never ask for anything back he’s always keen to do the same for you and by the look of it, he enjoys it just as much as he enjoys “receiving”.

“Sweets, love me.” Izuku mutters into your neck on a sunny afternoon, right before the hero Gala. First, you have a slight urge to laugh and remind the greenette that you love him every day but then you realize his whole body is rigid and you stay quiet.

Something is wrong and that something is connected to the hero gala, you are sure of it, but you don’t ask questions; you just let your fingers rake through Izuku’s messy locks, you play with his scalp and the back of his ears, and Izuku closes his eyes and sighs, his breaths long, deep and full of lust.

“You like it when I play with your hair?” You finally ask him, and Izuku blushes like a schoolboy.

“A little bit too much, to be honest.” He giggles. “But it works. I don’t think there is enough blood left in my brain to overthink.” Izuku sheepishly admits.

This conversation makes you think about your first time with Izuku; it has only been a few days since but you feel like you’ve been intimate with him for so much longer; it just feels so right to be together in that way, to show how much you love the other without the need of words. On that first day, you grabbed Izuku’s hair from the back and pulled it, and the sweet sound Izuku had made will forever live in your head rent free. Seeing Izuku vulnerable and worked up is your new favorite thing; mostly, because you know that with you, he can let himself go completely, clear his mind and just be himself. It’s good for you and it’s good for him.

But you also start to get concerned that your random acts of love became a way for him to distract himself from this problem he’s facing right now and you really don’t want this new kind of love to become a bad memory for him.

“Can I be honest with you?” You mumble into his hair, a little bit terrified to continue.

“Sweets, of course.”

“I… I’m scared.” You admit. “I feel like I’ve made a mistake. I’ve been trying to cheer you up and make you happy but I feel like… now, every time you feel anxious you try to… well.. get cheeky with me but I want these moments to be happy, to be about us… I might be selfish, but…”

“Stop.” Izuku jumps into your words, a little bit offended. “I would never use your body for such a thing and if I ever do, I’ll tell you and ask for your permission to do that. You are the love of my life and while yeah, it is a really good way to distract myself from the turmoil in my head, the only thing I think about during our time together is you and you only. Us doing things so frequently since has nothing to do with my anxiety. I just love loving you. I love how there is no one but us in those moments. I love the way you feel, the way you smell, I love to see how much you enjoy my touches. It’s like a drug to me. Please, never say such thing ever again because it breaks my heart.” Izuku finally finishes and you feel terrible now.

“I’m so sorry, Izu, I just…”

“You just don’t understand how much I love you. And I get that. It’s hard to understand that you can mean so much to another person. Even if you are… mentally okay… everyone is a bit judgmental when it comes to their own self.” Izuku smiles and kisses your lips to prove his point even further. “But Sweets, you are everything to me. Even if the world falls apart, even is loose all my memories, I’ll forever come back to you. There is no path in life where I don’t end up right here at the end of the journey. I kiss you because I need you, I love you because I can’t get enough of you. I might be a little bit too clingy thanks to the fact that my brain wants me to believe that me being the way I am now is not the same person you fell in love with but I know it’s all bullshit. I just need a lot of validation right now. And maybe I’m seeking it by being intimate with you. Hm. Maybe you had a point.” Izuku rambles and you can’t help but laugh.

“Those therapy sessions are really good for you. Look at you self-analyzing yourself!”

“I know, right?” Izuku laughs, slowly moving up to tower over you. “So can you do that to my hair again? I’ve been so good today. So so good.” He grins, clearly aware of how cringe his is right now.

“Nope. You ruined it.” You push the man away and run into the kitchen to sit down by the table cluttered with drawing materials. “I need to finish this commission, anyway!”

Izuku stays put for an hour then sneaks under the table while you’re distracted by all the different kind of greens you need to choose from for pro hero Deku’s hair.

“Hey.” Izuku looks up at you from between your legs with a big, hungry grin on his face and… let’s just say he gets what he wants afterwards.

This man will be the death of you.

~•🥦•~

The evening is a blur. You two sit down on the sofa when the time comes; Izu looks restless, stressed, absolutely out of it, he doesn’t cuddle, he doesn’t come close, he just sits by the TV, his right leg bouncing up and down and you are five seconds away from yelling at him; no, not because it’s annoying, but because there is something he’s hiding and you really do not appreciate being left out of something so important and you hate how you are incapable of helping because Izuku does not let you in on this one.

The gala starts and the fellow heroes make their grand entrance; Katsuki and Eijiou look gorgeous in their tailored suits, elegant but deadly, Kyouka is wearing a beautiful frilly dress, all black, and her favorite boots, she reminds you of Avril Lavigne but more extreme. It takes 10 minutes for the interviewer to question the number one hero’s absence; Izuku’s leg stops moving and he stares at his feet, not even looking at the screen. You usually love watching the gala; the beautiful dresses, the smile on the heroes faces but today, you are dreading it; there is a static coming from TV, but maybe it’s coming from Izuku’s uncontrollable quirk, the colors are faded but maybe that’s only in your head, it’s weirdly dark and something is just wrong, so wrong you can’t shake the feeling off.

“What have you done…” you look at your boyfriend, because you can’t do this anymore.

“Sweets…”

“What have you done, Izuku?!” You ask again, frustrated. You can barely finish your sentence before the event officially starts; the 10th hero gets announced, then the list goes up to the top three… you already know something is up when there is only 3 places left but there are four people, the top four still seated in the crowd, or in Izuku’s case, at home. The camera zooms in at Katsuki, who looks angry and disheveled, nothing like he looked like a few minutes ago. Katsuki is clever and he definitely knows how to count. Kirishima has concern etched into his face, already up the podium as a fellow top 10 hero. He probably hates not being there for his partner. There is anger boiling inside you from seeing how this beautiful event was completely ruined for these people.

“Before we move to the top three, I would like to play a video we got from our Number One hero, Deku.” The retired hero who was asked to hold the ceremony announces with an utterly confused face.

… And then you understand what’s going on.

“Hey there, my fellow hero partners and everyone in Japan.” Izuku’s voice is firm and confident or at least it sounds like it but you know it’s all a fucking act. “I’m really sorry for not coming to the Gala in person but I have a feeling I would be killed by friends if I do.” He smiles sadly. “First of all, I want to thank everyone for keeping me on the first place for so long. It has been a pleasure and I do feel I worked hard enough to get to that first place but it wouldn’t have been possible without all of you. But…” this is a bad dream. This is not real. This can’t be fucking real. “It’s time for me to give this opportunity to someone else. As you all know, I’ve been out of commission for a while now and it will take a long time for me to heal. Until my body is ready to earn your votes, until I’m able to thank you by saving as many people as I can, I would like to announce my temporary retirement from the hero business.” In the background, Katsuki stands up and is about to leave the event. Kyouka stops him. Katsuki yells but it’s not audible. More heroes come over to tame the beast. Eijirou looks like he’s about to cry, his eyes full of longing as he looks at his partner, his best friend, struggling while he’s standing on the podium. “Once I’m ready, I want to earn your votes with my actions. I want and I will earn my spot back in the future. But for now, I want you guys to move on without me. Thank you for everything. I can’t wait to see the new Number One hero. Kacchan, make me proud.”

Katsuki cries. But not from happiness.

“I don’t want it!” Katsuki yells so loudly it’s audible. “I don’t fucking want it! It’s not mine! It’s not…” the first sob leaves Katsuki’s mouth and that’s the last straw for Eijirou; he jumps off the podium and runs towards Katsuki, completely ruining the gala.

Izuku jumps up from the sofa and leaves without a word, leaving droplets of tears on the floor as he runs by. You have no idea what to do. You want to run after Izuku, you want to run to the gala, to be there for Katsuki, because in the last few weeks, he and Eijirou became family to you. You are also extremely mad and disappointed in your Izuku so you have a selfish thought of letting him stew in his own juice; but you need to be an adult here, you need to think about Izuku’s mental health, about the reason why Izuku is going to therapy in the first place, you need to be the bigger man, put your anger aside and help him get through it.

Yes, the Gala was ruined, but in a fucked up way, Izuku wasn’t wrong; the doctors did say he won’t be able to be back to work for a couple of months and he probably won’t be at his best for the next few months after, so technically speaking, he would have lost his first place by next year anyway. Ripping of the bandaid now instead of watching your rank go further and further down while you are supposed to be stress-free would have done more harm than good.

The problem here is the way Izuku did the deed but at the same time, there is no way Katsuki would have let him do this even if it’s the right thing to do.

On the screen, Katsuki and Eijirou leaves the Gala while the poor spoke-person tries to save the event.

There is no way they are not headed this way. Which means you MUST get Izuku out of his stupor before they arrive. The event was held 1 hour away; that is if they use a taxi. Knowing how angry Katsuki is, he’ll fucking fly through the sky and arrive without Eijirou in less than 20 minutes, leaving the blonde without the only person who can restrain him if he looses his shit.

You could close the back door but Katsuki would break through anyway. They also have a spare key. There is no point.

20 minutes.

“Fuck.” You pull yourself together and run towards Izuku’s secret office entrance; you don’t need to see him going that way to know that’s where he went. Your phone rings in your pocket; there is a message from Izuku’s mom and a missed call from Eijirou; you quickly message his mom back saying you have it under control and it’s all good, then you call the red haired man back who can’t stop rambling for the life of him.

“Dude, I can’t understand what you are saying.” You mumble angrily as you run through the small corridor. “But if this is about Katsuki flying though the city to kick Izuku’s ass, I had a hunch and I’m trying my best to sort him him out so he can at least communicate with him.” You end the call without waiting for a response. You have twenty minutes to get Izuku out of his office, if not, Katsuki will explode the small hidden room and you will all die from smoke inhalation… wait, does he even know about this room? Oh, he does. He doesn’t know how to open it, though. Not like it really matters, he is a clever man so it would take him a few minutes to find out the “code”. He knows Izuku better than he knows the back of his own pretty, smooth hands.

“Go away” Izuku mumbles right as you put the code in and open the door. “I said GO AWAY” Blackwhip surges forward but you are not scared; Izuku would never hurt you.

“PUT THAT THING BACK WHERE IT BELONGS, MIDORIYA IZUKU!” You yell; black whip shakes a bit and retreats. Izuku looks like a deer caught in the headlights, utterly surprised by your stern voice.

“I’m… so… Sorry.” Izuku stares at the floor, embarrassed. He’s still crying. You want to give him a hug but you also want to pummel him to the floor (not in a cheeky way.)

“No, I get it, and I get why you did what you did but we have 15 minutes before Katsuki barges through the back door and I don’t want our love nest to explode so let’s make a plan and let’s wait for that angry Pomeranian outside. If he ruins any of my plants, I’ll kill him myself, though. I worked really hard to make them look this pretty.”

Izuku looks at you like he can’t believe what he’s hearing; there is so much fondness in his eyes, so much love it almost makes you forget that the man is in trouble.

“You are the best girlfriend in the whole wide world, do you know that?”

“Well, you can show me your appreciation later, now let’s get ready for battle.”

Izuku says nothing but smiles; he takes your hand and lets you pull him towards the exit.

“A fated battle between two men, as Ochako would say.” Izuku smiles to himself, eyes still full of tears. You roll your eyes.

“Fated battle between two idiots, I would rather say.”

“Fair point.”

Honestly, at this point, you don’t remember how it feels to have a normal life. You’ve changed so much in the last few months your own parents would probably think you are an alien in their daughter’s body which might sound like a bad thing but it’s quite the opposite; you’ve become stronger, better, kinder but you’ve also learned how to say no, how to stand up for yourself, how to be your own person. You’ll be always grateful for this weird bunch for helping find yourself after being lost for years.

“Explodo-boy is about to land. Take a deep breath, Izu.” You mumble as you see a flaming meteor in the sky coming closer and closer.

“This is how I die.”

This retort earns Izuku a big smack to the back of his fluffy head.

… next chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato ramble:

- Eyyyo, sorry for the angst but it had to happen! I tried to be nice and not actually end the chapter with a really bad cliffhanger so please appreciate me trying. Haha.

- I only have two chapters to write (this is real life time, you guys have a few more chapters! For now, it should end with Chapter 26.) but I think I’m gonna post the ones I have ready, so I can read your feedback and maybe add some extra chapters or put some of your ideas into the existing ones. This means there is going to be a bit of delay again in the future, but hopefully, not months, but a week or two. I don’t really like writing without hearing your thoughts first but I’m also not in the right mind space to keep posting every week so it’s the devil’s cycle really.

I enjoy writing to you but I enjoy writing together with you even more! So feel free to share your thoughts or things you want to read about; this is your last chance to speak up! 💜

TL: @garfieldthomas @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @aei-sedai-moiraine @aymasakusa @katsuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07 @lukerycyja-reblogs @cloroxisadelectabletreat @coffeent @kisskissshutmydoor @bobcar1 @yazminetrahan @cringefan @ronimacaroni77 @themultifandomgirl @dangerousluv1 @emperatris-rinaka @shotos-angelic-whore @angelsdemonsmonsters @norvacaine @rei165 @unofficialmuilover @yao-ai @happydragonfrog @eeerreehhh @vinivave @alyss-eiz @sleepisfortheweakpooh

[itadores]

an airport kind of love

note: bsf!maki save me! i love friendship <3

pairing: zenin maki & gn!reader

word count: .8k

tags: gender neutral reader, platonic relationships / friendship, slice of life, silly

“would you run through the airport for me?”

maki has long grown used to your seemingly random questions. your mind races a mile a minute, thoughts pin-balling from one topic to another in a matter of seconds. your brain forms connections that she still can’t comprehend, even after all your years of friendship and your endless explanations that you swear make sense.

“why do you ask?”

she wonders what prompted you to ask the question out of nowhere, breaking the peaceful quietness that settled over you.

maki casts a glance past the foot of her bed where you’re sprawled out on the floor. she’s told you countless times to just sit on her bed or at her desk, but you refuse time and time again, insisting that the ground is more than comfortable for you to lie around on. maki highly disagrees, but she knows by now that your mind won’t be changed. at least you’re lying on the rug she bought awhile back.

you place your phone face down, resting a cheek onto your folded arms, and meet maki’s gaze.

“i watched a rom-com the other day with kugisaki, and there was this whole big scene where the male lead was running through the airport to catch the female lead before she got on her flight so he could confess his feelings. of course he managed to catch her and confess to her, leading to them kissing and the end. they live happily ever after together.” you pause, scoffing. “it was super cheesy.”

maki sharply exhales through her nose, making a noise that resembles amusement.

she knows from experience that you have a love-hate relationship with romantic comedies. you do enjoy watching them, subjecting her to more rom-coms than she would ever need to watch in her lifetime, but you’ll complain the entire time, making comments here and there throughout the movie until maki tells you to stop talking every few minutes or she’ll leave.

you continue on. “so it got me thinking. would you run through the airport for me?”

“to confess my undying love for you?” maki dryly says.

you roll your eyes. “i expect nothing less,” you reply, words dripping with sarcasm. you roll over from your stomach onto your back. your fingers rake over the threads of the rug. a childish pout that maki is much too familiar with overtakes you. “obviously i don’t mean it like that, but for whatever,” you lift an arm and wave a hand around in the air, “reason would you run through an airport for me?”

“no,” maki says point blank.

your reaction is instantaneous.

you quickly prop yourself up with your palms, your brows pinching together and the corners of your lips downturning as you twist your head to look at maki.

“you’re so cold to me, maki,” you whine, “you might as well tell me you hate me at this point.”

“you are so dramatic.”

maki rolls her eyes.

“do you know how much effort would be needed to pull a stunt like that?”

maki sits up a bit straighter, so she can properly look at you.

“i would have to buy a plane ticket for a flight i don’t plan on getting on, wait in line for security, try and figure out your terminal and gate number once i get through security, and then try and make it to your gate in time before you board the plane,” maki lists, counting on her fingers each element of what it would take to pull off something like running through the airport for someone. she looks over at you, raising a brow. “would you run through the airport for me?”

“of course i would,” you respond instantly, almost defensively. you fold your arms over your chest, turning your nose up at maki. “unlike you who obviously hates me,” you take this moment to place a hand on your chest, inhaling deeply and dramatically before exhaling loudly. “i, on the other hand, love you and would have no problem running through an airport for you.”

maki scoffs.

“really?”

maki doesn’t really believe that you would run through the airport for her. maybe in this hypothetical scenario you’ve thought up, but in real life? there is no way you would do so. but then again, you are you, so it’s not entirely out of the question.

“really,” you affirm. you’ve toned down the dramatics, sounding a bit more genuine than you did just a few seconds ago.

“you are such a sap,” maki says in return.

you shrug your shoulders and give her a little smile.

“and yet, you’re still friends with me.”

“maybe i need some new friends,” maki sighs.

a bark of laughter escapes you.

“yeah right. you know you love me,” you tease, playfully winking at maki.

she groans.

unfortunately, it’s true.

she does love you.

she loves you enough that you’re the only person she would even entertain running through an airport for.

but she won’t tell you that.

[coquettecouture]

Media I consumed in: March!

Another month down for the books! A month of embracing the forthcoming spring, and feeling the melancholic haze disappear as the sun clears the clouds. This month was a month of self discovery, healing and letting the seasonal depression unhand you.

With the last day of the month finally here, it’s time for one of my favorite posts all over my social media. This month i’ve been working on getting out of a slump, rediscovering who I am and how my brain works. It’s been a hard month, but I am only human and with every hardship is always a rainbow. As the spring season approaches and the cold weather sadly stays in the past, ive found myself in the longing phase for the sweet smell of summer. Which is very reflective in the media i’ve consumed this month! Objects of melancholy and a glimmer of hope have been my main source of media, and I can’t wait to share it with you! I hope you enjoy, and now here are my favorite things I have consumed through the beautiful month of March.

Video Essays!

I’ve recently discovered video essays on my youtube feed, and I wish I got into them sooner because I swear I am addicted! There is topics on every subject, and as someone who loves listening to people talk in the background I have found myself listening to them more and more! A few of my favorites are!

୨୧ Why is everyone dressing like a little girl? - Mina le

୨୧ Toxic femininity, what’s wrong with girl bloggers, female manipulators, and femcels? - Mina le

୨୧ Why lolita is impossible to adapt into film. - Final Girl Gigital

୨୧ In defense of the manic pixie dream girl. - Final Girl Digital

Music!

Unfortunately, I am a victim of getting most of my music off of TikTok. Most of the new music I consume has been off of Tiktok, but I am not ashamed! The app has introduced me to so many songs I wouldn’t have known I liked. Examples of those are..

୨୧ Pushing it down and praying - Lizzy Mcalpine

୨୧ MUTT - Leon Thomas

୨୧ Back To Friends - Sombr

୨୧ What you got - Colby O Donis, Akon

୨୧ I know love - Tate Mcrae, The Kid Laroi

୨୧ Blue Dream - Dance Gavin Dance

୨୧ Adore you - Brittany Broski Cover

Books!

In the year of 2025, I have a book goal of 15 books! Thus far I have read 3. Sadly, my goal is much higher but focusing on the negative will never uplift you! Instead, here’s a list of what I have read and my ratings!

୨୧ Ariel - Sylvia Plath! ⭐ ⭐️

This was sadly one of my most anticipated reads, and one of my most disliked. Going from The Bell Jar, which was amazing minus the random slurs???, to Ariel I must say I was wildly disappointed. I’m not expert on poetry but most of these, again aside from the random slurs, was very underwhelming. Some excerpts like Tulips and The morning song were very interesting were as the rest of them really fell flat for me.

୨୧ Nana (Vol. 3) - Ai Yazawa ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Now one thing I will forever mourn is the unfinished ending of my beloved manga. This series and manga will never ever disappoint me. I truly feel connected to both Hachiko and Nana all at once and even see some close friendships of mine in them. With every volume I read, the further I fall into this world of genuine reality. It is raw and beautiful but also witty and charming. I will never have a bad thing to say about such an incredibly articulated series. Ai Yazawa I owe you my left lung.

Movies and Tv Shows!

While a big chunk of my time this month has been spent watching youtube, I have been spending more time towards the middle to end of the month watching shows with my mumzy! With many many things on the watchlist, here are just a few of my top picks!

୨୧ AHS / Asylum ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The first 3 seasons of American Horror Story will live on in my dreams as peak cinema. Through every plot twist in the season, the season genuinely only gets better and better. If you’re looking for a good show to get you in an autumnal mood without feeling too seasonal, this is the perfect show. It’s creep factor and genuine thrill make it so entertaining, and it doesn’t hurt that Evan Peters looks amazing with his haircut.

୨୧ Anora ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This was genuinely one of funniest most chaotic movies I have seen in so long. Igor was the best character in this entire movie, and he was so unintentionally hilarious. I’m not sure if it was meant to be a comedy, but I loved it as one. I wasn’t necessarily heartbroken, but I definitely laughed my eyes out. In the beautiful words of Ani, “your mother is a шлюха” LOL.

୨୧ Juno ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Holy shit this movie was amazing. From the themes with Mark and Juno to Vanessa’s story all the way to Paulie and Juno. Through and through one of the best movies about teen pregnancy and adolescence. It’s been a long time since I have watched a movie that hit me so deeply that I felt the need to tell everyone about it. Juno is so undeniably relatable and like-able, even past her flaws. Elliot Page, I will always give you your flowers for this masterpiece.

୨୧ 27 Dresses ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

This would’ve been 4 stars had her sister not gaslit her into apologizing. My least favorite movie trope by far is the “Let’s push our MC to the point of snapping, and then gaslight her into apologizing, meanwhile nobody else does for causing it!!” I’m looking at you Edge of Seventeen. The sister was from the beginning to the end of the movie, absolutely insufferable. I’m a hater, I do not care, she did not deserve the guy in the end. Also?? George?? What is he doing? Why would he kiss the MC after almost marrying her sister? Thank you Katherine Heigl and James Marsden for saving this movie for me.

And with that, that is all for this month’s media consumed. Hopefully next month I will be able to read more and consume more content to share with all of you. As the new month of April begins today, I hope all of you have an amazing month. As always, please leave any recommendations below and tell me something you really enjoyed this month. I love all of you so much, thank you for your support. Stay cutie!

Credits to @dollywons as always!!

[yourlocalconfusedhomo]

Hello Again, Dear Night

Chapter 3

“Shit.”

“Shit. Shit. Fuck. Fuck”

Ashley was becoming frantic in her speech. She was starting to run her hand through her hair and over her face. She was beginning to step back towards the bikes, swearing and pulling at her hair. 

The one brunette of the group moved in front of the girl, blocking her from view of the girls that approached. Elizabeth began to step forward when the platinum blonde stepped in front and put a hand up to stop her. “Hold on there honey” his tone was calm but cold. The one with curly hair had stepped up behind the one who seemed to be the leader. Both seem to be trying to hide the look of growing concern in their eyes for the woman standing behind the group. “Don’t ‘honey’ me. If that's who i hope it is I will kill you if you stop me from getting to her” Elizabeth spat at the platinum blonde who’s face had dropped into a sense of surprise. David had never been stood up to like this. A random stranger that was barely reaching his shoulder was in his face and threatening him. ‘Are you getting horny while I'm having a mental breakdown David?’ A voice came through his head. Ashley was still hiding behind Dwayne and Paul but the snickers could still be heard from the boys. The curly haired boy looked at the staredown that was happening in front of him when a voice said “We’re not here to fight you. That girl just looked really familiar.” Alison had taken a step forward, almost like she was trying to pull the attention of David away from the stare down. David still didn’t look away when Victoria said “If it’s not our friend we’ll leave but if it is we want to know what the hell is happening.” “That's not my call to make” David responded, now smirking as he stared down at Elizabeth. 

Marko was staring at the blonde across from him, who still hadn’t spared a glance away from her friends. The bad thing about having a mental connection to anyone was your thoughts that you wanted to hide were broadcast to anyone who could hear it. “Fuck”. A simple word was the only thought crossing Marko’s brain. He was normally so focused when the group was in a face off, with anyone, let alone when one of them was at risk of being hurt. He felt like he was in a trance. He thought the night he first turned would be the high of his life and after life, but that feeling was nothing compared to this. 

Marko was snapped back to reality by the sound of an escalating argument. The little brunette in the group of girls was over the blue haired girl's shoulder. Any passerby wouldn’t be able to tell who was meant to be the rational one of the pair, hell Marko couldn’t tell and he was right there. David still had the smirk he was renowned for on the boardwalk. “Don’t fucking smirk at us you dick-” Victoria screamed in the face of the leader “-I will kill you and you’re parents”. Paul verbally gaffaed. Like said the fucking word.

 “I really had hoped you guys didn’t change” 

30 seconds. 30 full seconds of silence passed. Half a minute before anyone in the group spoke, moved or even breathed. “You don’t gotta do this baby. We can hop on the bikes and leave these chicks behind”. It still took getting used to for Ashley to hear words of comfort in any environment, let alone in public where other people are. “You ever known me to do something I don't wanna do?” she said so seamlessly, like nothing had happened before. Who needs healthy coping mechanisms when you literally can’t die? 

Ashley began to step toward the trio of girls in front of them. “So there is a lot to explain, like a quite frankly disgusting amount, but i should start with i’m sorr-” Ashley was cut off by a force running into her. Before she could process what had happened two more hits in rapid succession came. The trio was hugging her.  A decade had passed since the group had been fully together and the first thing that happens is a hug.

Why?

For ten years she had abandoned them. No letters, no postcards, absolutely nothing and they hug her. She never expected this sort of response. The reaction she thought of became a broken record in her head. One would hope when you’re immortal those kind of things don’t keep you up at night, well morning, but intrusive thoughts can fuck anyone appearantly. The images of the first people she thought truly loved her and their justified anger haunted what was left of her mortality. 

“This doesn’t seem like a conversation that should happen out in the open like this.” David spoke calmly from behind the group after noticing the discomfort in Ashley’s body language. She doesn’t move. Not to break away or further into the hug but simply exists in the embrace the love she thought was lost. It all feels wrong. Everything and nothing happens at the same time. ‘Run away’,’hug them back’, ‘you don't deserve them’, ‘they need to know you still care’. You grow used to hearing voices telling you what to do when you have a form of mental communication. Her and Paul once had a 30 minute conversation in their heads and didn’t realise till David asked why they were both so quiet. These weren’t comforting voices but voices that she just couldn’t recognize. 

Still wrapped in the embrace of the memories of her past, Ashley began to pull away. Trying to retreat back to the comfort of herself she had worked so hard to build. Why did reconnection have to be so fucking hard? As she tried to release herself from the group's grasp, she could feel the hesitation in their release. The horror of letting go and losing her again takes hold in them. 

“Yeah. Somewhere else.” Ashley chokes out through the fight of tears, threatening to well in her eyes. She is still wrapped in the arms of her friends as their grip continues to loosen. “Where do we go then?” Victoria starts, the girls didn't know Santa Carla and the boys were still walking about, “I know this is a lot but we need to talk Ash.” “I know we do Victoria. Just give me a second to collect all of my thoughts.” Alison looked over the group of men behind Ashley in uncertainty, while Elizabeth glared at the bleach blonde man who seemed to be leader of the group.

“Go home. I’m good here. I'll head back later” Ashley was finally released from the grip of the girls when she turned to the blonde Elizabeth had been glaring at. Her tone alone told David not to argue. The fact that she began to walk away from her boys back towards the boardwalk was a pretty good support to her argument. The sand that sticks onto their shoes begins to trail back to a restaurant. The boys watching on from the shore when David breaks the formation they had found themselves in to walk back to his bike. “She can take care of herself. Grab Star and the kid and lets go.” His bike revs, the exhausts painting the light from the moon in a smoky grey. Dwayne is the last to make moves to leave. His concern for his girl holding him still when he finally walks to the bike and kicks the sand up around him to return home.

[ghost-proofbaby]

She knows him. She doesn’t know how or why. But she swears it on her life, she knows this pale elf.  She can’t explain the echoing hollow ache that rings out at the up-close sight of him any other way. She knows him, knew him, and had somehow lost him.

summary: aruna meets gale. aruna meets shadowheart. but, somehow, none it matters - they're not astarion, and she's beginning to think this astarion doesn't exist.

wc: 5.3k+

warnings: continued memory loss, more canon violence/gore. a lot of gameplay recount. spoilers for the game below (act 1, ravaged beach).

a/n: anyone else fail that perception check when meeting astarion? just me? that's cool. i can't even be mad when a pretty boy holds a knife to my throat. also, if some of this isn't 100% game accurate/lore accurate, do not come for me. we're here for a good time! not an accurate time!

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Aruna and Astarion. Astarion and Aruna. Aruna – Astarion. 

She echoes the two names in her mind an impossible amount of times. The one name, her name, clicks right into place for her. It makes sense. Her name is Aruna, there’s not a single doubt within her regarding that. And even if there had been, she’s already laid claim to it – she’s already introduced herself to the two strangers she’d managed to stumble upon on the beach as such. 

Shadowheart and Gale. Kind souls, a bit guarded but fair given the circumstances. They share a common affliction, one that Aruna hadn’t even noticed in the daze of her awakening on the beach – a worm in their heads. Literally. 

And she should be pondering more about how odd that is, all the squirming in her brain that she can feel, the way that she managed to connect telepathically with both of these strangers upon running into them, but she isn’t. 

Because, apparently, according to this mysterious letter addressed to her, she’s supposed to save Astarion. And neither of them are Astarion. 

Who the hell is Astarion? 

Maybe it could be one of her new companions; either of them could have lied regarding their name easily. But she had seen into their minds, and they had proven trustworthy so far. Hell, Gale was even offering to cook some sort of dinner for all of them in their current makeshift campsite they had chosen. A clearing in the edge of the woods, not too far from the beach, but certainly not wandering any further than necessary into the unfamiliar grounds they’ve found themselves crashed onto. They’d snagged some bedrolls out of random chests discarded by the crash (they had all doubted the previous owners were even still alive), made a makeshift fire pit in the center of the clearing, and declared it home – for now. 

It didn’t feel like home. Felt the furthest from home Aruna could have possibly been, and she didn’t even remember where her home was. Or if she had one before all of this. 

“What have you got there?” Gale asks casually from where he stands over the dinner he was scrounging together, pulling Aruna away from all her stubborn thoughts.

They had turned one of the fallen trees into a bench of sorts. Waist level and the perfect place for him to carefully cut up mushrooms they had found along their way with a stolen knife they’d secured. It was the beginnings of a home, gut feelings aside. 

“Hm?” Aruna hums, looking up from her palm, closing it on instinct, “What?” 

Gale stops all movement, eyes narrowing in her further at her closed fist, “The stone you’re holding. Did you find it during our travels?” 

Ah. The stone. One of two items she had found in the mysterious pouch on her body. She’d been mindlessly flipping it between her hands, fingers sliding over the smooth surface as she had studied it. Her investigation had proven half useful when she’d realized there was a carving on the flattest surface of the stone – a  crescent moon, just like one of her daggers. 

She could be honest. But for some reason, she feels protective over the stone. Especially after noticing that carving, “Oh, yeah. Saw it on the side of the road and it looked pretty unique. I’ll probably toss it away when we start back up on the road tomorrow.” 

Like Hells will I be letting it out of my sight. 

She doesn’t know much, frustratingly so, but she knows that this unusual stone is not the kind you would stumble upon on the road. Gale clearly knows as much as well, looking entirely unconvinced as they suddenly stare each other down in silence. 

He’s giving her an opportunity to be honest. As if she owes him the truth. 

“It’d be a shame to get rid of such an… unique stone.”

It would be. And he clearly believes it’s far more than a stone. But it only makes her fingers curl far more tightly around the opal, feeling the rough edge of the moon pressing into her skin. 

“Maybe I’ll sell it,” she shrugs, trying to put up an act of indifference, “It looks pretty enough to earn a decent amount of gold, right?” 

As if to prove her point, to further sell this careless act, she lets her hand fall back open. The moon carving is safe against her palm and out of sight, and the stone glimmers in the moonlight. 

“Looks like it would be worth more than just a bit of gold,” Gale says, taking a few steps closer to get a better look. On instinct, Aruna nearly bristles. “That- Are you aware of what that is-”

“Is dinner done?” Shadowheart interrupts with perfect timing. Her distraction lets Aruna quickly move to shove the stone away back into her pouch, having no interest in some sort of lecture from Gale. 

She doesn’t know what it is. But it’s hers, and his hungry eyes on the small artifact are enough to tell her to keep it far away from him. 

“Pardon me?” Gale blinks a few times, taking longer than a normal person might to register Shadowheart’s questions. He’s still focused on Aruna’s hand that now rests emptily against her lap. “Oh! Oh, no. Not quite. Sorry, my hungry friends. Just a few more minutes. It won’t be much but, it’ll be something. Excellent fuel to continue our search for a healer tomorrow, I assure you.”

Shadowheart says something more as she takes a seat on another makeshift bench they’d set up, and Gale responds with ease this time, but Aruna has tuned them both out. 

He’s probably right. Tomorrow, they need to find a healer. She needs to worry more about the worm in her head. She needs to reassess her priorities.

But it’s awfully hard when not only that stone, but that letter burns a hole in her pack, and she’s dreadfully aware that as kind and oddly trusting these people have been given their current situation, neither of them are Astarion.

And the letter said to save Astarion. Not Shadowheart, not Gale, not even herself. But Astarion. 

—

“So, what were your lives like before this entire mess and impending doom of ceremorphosis?”

Gale is a chatty traveling companion. Aruna learns this quickly when they wake the next morning and gather their packs, and she’d even had half the mind to begin a map of sorts so she can mark their camp and the surrounding areas they’ve already explored on it. All her sketches, trees and scribbles to depict the Nautiloid crash, are abysmal at best. But it’s something. If they can just be smart, if they can just be aware of their surroundings, they might be able to continue to call their perfect clearing home. 

Besides, none of them really wanted to continue to carry every single thing they had gathered thus far in their packs. 

Whatever they left surely is at risk of being found by others wandering, and they could be robbed blind of any supplies left behind, but Aruna is just glad for the lack of an ache in her back as she adjusts her pack. 

Shadowheart nearly trips over her steps, as if not expecting the question and clearly panicking over what to say, but Aruna decides to speak up first.

“I can’t remember,” she says plainly, monotonous as she continues to confidently stride forward. They’re nearly back to the main path they had discovered, and something is tugging her back in the direction of that damned beach. 

Shadowheart trips again, and this time, Aruna truly can’t tell if it’s due to shock or simply not watching where she was going in her effort to keep up. 

“What?” Gale chuckles under his breath, as though Aruna’s told a joke. He’s keeping pace with her fairly impressively, “I know this entire journey thus far has been fairly startling, but a symptom of ceremorphosis is not memory loss. Surely, you remember at least where you’re from.” 

“I don’t,” Aruna finally slows, letting Shadowheart fall into place on her right as she faces Gale, “I… I have no memories from before the ship. I must have just hit my head exceptionally hard, or maybe that worm is digging around in places in my brain that it isn’t in yours.” 

It’s a bold show of trust. She should feel more resistance towards laying out her troublesome internal quarrel so plainly to Gale, but she doesn’t. It’s almost as easy as fiddling with her daggers by the campfire, or mindlessly flipping around that stone in her pack. 

She should trust him, shouldn’t she?

Yes, something screams inside of her. The thing she felt locked up inside of her finally finds its voice, it seems, as it calls to her, you should trust him. Trust him with all that you have. 

The issue, of course, is that Aruna doesn’t have much. Material-wise nor of internal self. 

She has daggers. She has a pretty stone. She has a tarnished ring. She has a name. She has instructions to save Astarion, whoever that elusive bastard may be.

She doesn’t have much to offer. To trust with. 

“How very interesting,” Gale murmurs as he looks at her with nothing but unbridled curiosity, “Well, as I said, it’s not a symptom of ceremorphosis. As far as I’ve read, at least.”

Aruna eyes him wearily, instinct to trust be damned, “Yes, you seem to do a lot of that.” 

He throws his head back in a laugh and- why does it pull on her heartstrings like something of recognition? Why does something about this very moment all feel so familiar? 

The deja vu nearly makes Aruna sick, Gale completely unaware as he says, “Reading? Why, yes, I do. A hungry mind is crucial to surviving this world, I’ve found.” 

Why is his laughter so familiar? Why does it spark a flicker of warmth in her chest, as though he’s some old friend she’s shared endless laughs with while gathered around a fire? 

It terrifies her. 

It was different, inanimate objects holding that flame of warmth and unlocking pieces of her. Daggers carved with nighttime symbols and a stone to match don’t scare Aruna; real people that she might have real history with do. 

“I’m sure your hungry mind is very happy, then, having been fed a worm worthy of a feast,” she tries to say it snappily, but it still all comes out a bit flat. 

And Gale only laughs more – Gods, she wishes he would stop, so that the waves of a memory she can’t catch will finally recede – and it’s clear he’s not affected by her defenses. 

He finally tilts his eyes back forward, trained on her, a ghost of a smile still lingering, “Ah, well, not quite. I prefer feasts of words, of knowled-”

“You know what else is crucial to surviving this world?” Shadowheart interrupts, shifting her weight from one foot to the other in a clear sign of her losing patience, “Finding a healer, and getting rid of the worm. Shall we carry on?” 

Aruna shares a final glance with Gale, and can’t help but also find the corners of her mouth twitching up, a mirror to his own. For the first time in several days, it almost feels as though she might have a friend. The exact opposite result of what she had intended by trying to be particularly sharp and even a bit sarcastic, but she doesn’t fight it. 

Instead, she nods to Shadowheart, and Gale motions for her to take the front as he bows, “Lead on, as you were.” 

Gale is not Astarion. She has no instructions to save him. And yet, she can’t help but feel her defenses are too weak, given the way he’s beginning to crack them with so few prods. Maybe his inquiry regarding her stone had been in genuine curiosity, a hungry mind as he had put it. Maybe he’s just trying to be friendly. Maybe he has good intentions after all. 

Maybe she does know him, and maybe her letter had just forgotten to add another crucial reminder.

Maybe she’ll add it when she gets back to camp. 

She can see it now, as if the words have already been solidified by pen to paper: P.S.S DO NOT FORGET TO FIND A FRIEND IN GALE. 

—

Shadowheart is far from amused when Aruna leads them back to the beach. Yet, to be fair, it’s hers and Gale’s fault for following her so blindly.

She knows there’s no healer on the beach. But something is calling her back to it. 

“The-” Shadowheart starts the moment the sand comes back into view. Trailings of sand mingle with the dirt below their feet, “We’re back on the beach? Haven’t we already established that there’s no healer on this ravished thing?” 

“Good name for it,” Aruna whispers more for herself than her companions, considering adding that to her map when they retire for the night. She turns to face Shadowheart and forces a smile. A kind, disarming type of look in hopes that the girl will just trust her, “Call it a gut feeling. I just feel like we missed something here.” 

“A gut feeling? We’ve already looted all the corpses. What more could there possibly be?”

“We only checked one side of the beach.”

“Yes, because to get to the other side, we’ll have to go through the damn crash rubble. Filled with those- those brain things.” 

“There’s three of us. I have faith.”

“I-”

Gale’s head turns back and forth, bouncing between the arguing girls. He seems perfectly content to add any commentary, almost at ease with the current argument, until Aruna’s hand moves to her hip.

Aruna is quick to pull a dagger from one of her sheaths. Immediately, all relaxed state of being drains from Gale, him paling and stepping forward to finally insert himself between them, “Woah, now! I don’t think there’s any need to-”

“I’m not going to stab her, Gale,” Aruna huffs. Shadowheart doesn’t look very convinced as Aruna focuses on her once more, dagger still hovering up in their line of sight, “I was trying to make a point – we have weapons. Gale has magic. And you’ve said you’re a cleric, which means you can heal. I doubt those ‘brain things’ – devourers, by the way, is the correct term – will even lay a claw on us between all our varying skill sets. If you don’t want to go to the other side of the beach, then don’t. I can’t force you. But you’ve both put your faith in me this far, what harm can a little more do?” 

The speech works. She doesn’t expect it to. She expects them to laugh at her, or walk away from her, or for Shadowheart to even start a proper fight. 

They don’t. 

They follow her right into danger, no hesitation. The wizard she’d saved from a portal in some cliff-side rock and the cleric she’d awoken on the beach when she’d stumbled upon her, faithful to her to a damaging fault. Even when the intellect devourers do attack, just as Shadowheart had worried they would, neither utter a single word so much as sounding like the well-deserved ‘I told you so’. 

They just use their skill sets. The very ones Aruna had pointed out. Her daggers, Shadowheart’s cleric artillery, Gale’s infallible spells – they use them for all they’re worth, until each of those brains are unrecognizable on the ground. 

And best (or possibly worst) of all, Aruna discovers something new about herself.

Her magic. 

She hadn’t even been sure if she held any useful skills beyond being decently good with her daggers thus far, but as one of those brains had trampled towards her, she had felt it. A warm hum beneath her skin, erratic and wild as can be, begging for release. 

Release it, she did. The final brain falls from the power of the fire bolt that flies from her fingertips, not even leaving her so much as marked. 

Gale notices immediately, Shadowheart still scoping out the area for any more enemies. 

“A fellow magic wielder, it seems,” he grins, motioning vaguely to her hands, “Now, if only we knew what kind.” 

What kind? 

“If you have no memory of your life before the ship, I’m correct to assume you aren’t very knowledgeable in the boundaries of your magic, yes?” She hadn’t even realized she had said the thought out loud until Gale is in front of her, still rambling, a light of intrigue in his eyes, “There’s wizards such as yours truly,” he pauses, and motions over himself in flourish, “As well as warlocks. Those, however, usually answer to a patron. So unless you’ve had any strange callings to any great deities over the last few nights… well, it’s off the table, I suppose.” 

“I haven’t,” she croaks, still looking down at her fingertips in shock. Magic. She still feels it now. Probably could have felt it this entire time, had she not been so distracted by the tadpole, the headaches, the memory loss. It’s fluid and tangible, something bursting through her veins for her taking, “I- What would that even feel like?”

“You’d know,” Gale says most assuredly, “Trust me. Besides, your patron probably would have already found you by now.”

“So, I’m a wizard?” 

Gale is quick to shake his head as Shadowheart walks back over to them, “Not necessarily. It’s certainly an option, and would make you a magic wielder who learned their knowledge of the Weave through studies. But there’s also other possibilities – sorcerers, paladins, clerics. They all have the ability to wield some magic. Druids, too, although theirs are usually more of the healing nature. And, well… the nature variety in general.” 

All words that make little sense to Aruna. She gives it a moment, waits to see if her muddled brain might catch up and offer her a little help in understanding, but it’s all in vain. 

“I should know these things,” she whispers, so quietly that both Gale and Shadowheart have to lean in to hear her small tone. It’s the first time she’s openly shown such emotion with them – something like devastation, laced with frustration. The inability to remember, to know, as they do. “Even if my memories of my life before this evade me, I should know these things.” 

Shadowheart speaks up in a tone unlike any other she had used on their journey, “They might still return to you yet, or there might be a greater reason for it all. Don’t give up hope.”

“And if they don’t return to you,” Gale interjects, the air of casualty returning to him as he gives a lopsided grin, “Well, I can always teach you about it all. I have books back at camp.” 

“You have books?” Out of all the things just said, it was probably the most odd for Aruna to latch onto, but she still looks at him befuddled, “Where in the Hells did you just get… books on all this? Did you loot them off of-”

“Bag of holding,” he answers as though it was obvious. 

Great. Awesome. A bag of holding. Because Aruna totally knew what that was. 

“Let’s just keep moving,” she moves on, letting it go. Maybe she’ll take him up on his offer, maybe she won’t. If anything else, she’ll just inquire more about whatever the Hells a bag of holding is later on, back at camp, “I can see the other side of the beach over there.” 

It’s Shadowheart and Gale’s turn to exchange a look, and slowly but surely, it’s feeling as though more than just the tadpoles in their mind are connecting them. Threads are being spun, small connections that are painfully mundane yet easily connecting these three strangers. They could all be friends, if they really wanted to. It might even make their survival a little bit easier. It might make their travels a little lighter.

Aruna can worry about friendship once she’s found Astarion, though. The faceless stranger mentioned in passing on a letter, the one person she’s been tasked with saving.

She doesn’t even know who he, or she, or they are. This mysterious name – it really means nothing to her. All she has to reasonably cling to it is that ridiculous letter. If she were to confide in her two companions about it, she’d probably get an earful, and truly be abandoned. They wanted to seek out a cure to the imminent danger within their heads, and she was sending them on a wild goose chase for Astarion. 

Does this Astarion even have a tadpole as well? Is that how she’s meant to save them? And if they don’t, does that mean that they’ll help her with her issue first, and then she saves them? 

Does she have to save them in order to rid herself of the tadpole? 

It’s all giving her a headache by the time their group of three is slowly walking up the slope of the sliver of beach they’ve discovered, taking small yet sturdy steps along the side of the crashed ship. Gale, thankfully, has stopped his nervous rambling (because, Aruna realized, that’s what it was. His nerves, controlling his tongue endlessly, trying to fill the dreadful silence for even the smallest bit of comfort. It almost makes her feel bad for being grateful for the quiet).

She must have been thinking about her questions hard enough for some mysterious power out in the Universe to hear her, however. Because they’d hardly been walking for a few minutes, she’d hardly been left to all her confusion and cursing of the damn name for such little time, when she sees him. 

Him. Decent height, pure white hair, pale skin that is nearly blinding in the harsh sunlight. 

Him. With eyes so red, she can see them from this distance. They almost match the shades of crimson that haunt her nightmares. 

Him. Who is currently, pathetically, calling out for help. 

“What the-” Shadowheart begins. And Aruna doesn’t notice it, but she starts to reach out to grab the elf by her elbow before she’s beginning to dart up the hill, falling right into the trap. 

Both of her companions, Shadowheart in her guarded glory and Gale in his perpetual state of anxiety, can’t even stop her. Neither dare to breathe out a word as she approaches the pale elf, but she can feel their disapproval as she comes up beside him. 

“You,” he breathes out, half crouched, eyes darting towards the bushes, “Hurry. I’ve got one of those brain things cornered,” he turns and points towards the bushes, assuming where the said brain thing has been lured, “There, in the grass. You can kill it, can’t you? Like you killed the others.” 

She should have been smarter. She should have been more perceptive. She should have heard Gale’s deep breath as he prepared to warn her against getting any closer. 

But she wasn’t. 

She’s a damned fool, a lamb to the slaughter, as she nods and whispers out an immediate, “Of course.” 

There’s no brain thing that has been cornered. The only thing that has been lured is Aruna; one moment, she’s leaning in to get a closer look into the bushes, and the next, a wild boar is skittering out. 

That’s not what catches her off guard.

The blade to her throat is what does it. Quickly, with unsettling ease, before she feels the elf’s arms wrapping around her and bringing them both down to the ground. 

Oh, fuck me. 

He has her trapped. She knows it, he knows it, and both her companions know it. She was an idiot and got exactly what was coming for her. 

All her survival instincts kick in immediately, causing her to trash in his arms, a painful whine coming out as she can feel the cold metal digging deeper into the delicate skin of her neck. 

And all the pale elf does is shush her gently, “Sh, sh, sh, sh. Not a sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.” 

His words do little to deter her. He starts to argue with her companions who have finally come to their senses, keeping a safe distance all while spilling out carefully calculated threats to the stranger, but she can’t hear them over the blood rushing in her ears. One hand feebly grabs onto his that is wrapped around the hilt of the dagger, the other reaching for his elbow. She tries to tug the weapon away from her, but he’s strong. It’s a fruitless battle. 

Aruna swears she hears Shadowheart insist she needs her alive. Gale saying something regarding the way he’ll make the elf regret it if he brings Aruna any harm. She can’t be sure. 

The longer his steady grip on her shoulder lingers, the more familiar it begins to become. His leg, trapping both of hers so that she can’t kick out of his grasp, is also familiar. Familiar, familiar, familiar. 

His lips are moving as he stares up at her companions, but it’s only once his eyes narrow back on Aruna that her heart slows and she can hear him properly once more. 

“Now,” he nearly purrs, voice low, dangerous, “I saw you on the ship, didn’t I?” 

She presses her lips together tightly, still trying to maintain her struggle to get out of his grasp. Her teeth grit from the effort, arms shaking violently. 

“Nod,” he commands, nearly condescendingly, and synapses fire off in the darkest corners of her brain. 

I know that voice. 

She almost feels as though she has no control over her body as her head nods on instinct, blade dropping from her neck to her chest now. 

“Splendid. And now, you’re going to tell me what you and those tentacled freaks did to me.” 

I know that voice. 

The same thing deep within her chest that had unfurled at the sight of Gale’s laughter, that had called her to the beach, that had lit up with recognition at the sight of her daggers – it’s wide awake now. Staring through her eyes at his own rubies, tracing every outline of every wrinkle, every curve, every imperfection. She knows his voice. She knows him. 

It weeps at the sight of him, and she has no idea why. The same strings that clench when she reads over her letter, when she let her eyes trace over the words ‘My dearest Aruna’ and the heavily underlined name of Astarion, are now pulled taut. 

She knows him. She doesn’t know how or why. But she swears it on her life, she knows this pale elf. 

She can’t explain the echoing hollow ache that rings out at the up-close sight of him any other way. She knows him, knew him, and had somehow lost him.

Her lack of an answer clearly irritates him, but he’s cut off by whatever quip he had perched on his tongue by the sudden connection. She doesn’t understand it, whether it be due to the new rolling thunder of the most intense deja vu she’s experienced yet or if it were a simple side effect of the tadpole, but each connection via the tadpole has become more painful. More intense. 

She’d first noticed the difference between it happening with Shadowheart versus Gale. 

And now, she notices it an impossible amount with this stranger. 

It’s nauseating as their minds connect, sharp and quick as if their two brains had been laying in wait for this very moment. It feels as though it goes beyond the tadpoles, beyond their shared affliction and terrible predicament. 

She sees bustling taverns and lively night streets, yes, but there’s something more there. Something missing. She’d felt it with Gale as well, an emptiness neither of them could seemingly unlock. But with this one, it’s far more intense than it had been previously. Like gaping wounds being presented to her, interspersed with the exchange of both his memories and… well, the lack of hers beyond the Nautiloid ship, she sees gaps. Spaces to be filled. Questions to be answered. 

I know that voice, the thing in her whimpers, I know this man. 

She doesn’t even care to hold onto the memory. She lets it slip away, wishing the pain would, too. 

But it lingers. 

Not just for her, but for him as well. His grip entirely loosens on her as he winces, a soft gasp falling from his lips as he begins to question, “What was that-”

She doesn’t care to listen to his question. In an instant, she’s pulled away, rolling out of his reach before standing steady on both feet. The pain leftover from the connection fuels her as she holds a hand out, and her magic thrums steadily with her heart as electricity crackles in the palm. 

Neither Gale nor Shadowheart make a single move as she holds out that palm, watching the elf’s every moment as he also rises to meet her. But he’s no longer hostile, hand holding his dagger now limp as he lets it rest at his side. 

“You’re… not one of them,” he says slowly, shame briefly flickering over his features before being replaced with something more despairing, “They took you. Just the same as me.” 

Her fingers shake in front of her as blue bolts continue to flicker amongst them, forming spasming webs between her knuckles. She could obliterate him, if she wanted. Right here, right now, she finally has the upper-hand. 

But she doesn’t. And in her hesitation, she can see him still reeling just as she was from their connection. She swears she can hear the pounding in his head syncing to hers, perfectly in time with one another.

The thing inside her claims to know him, but she doesn’t even know his name. 

I know him. Don’t hurt him. 

She sort of hates that internal dialogue. That true monster inside of her that had been the reason she hadn’t hesitated in her running to his rescue. It was the reason that she’d ended up with a knife against her throat, and she’s praying it’s not the reason for her death as she listens and closes her hand into a soft fist, releasing the hold on her magic momentarily. 

He watches her do it. His face relaxes, a charming smile gracing it now instead. 

“And to think, I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards. My sincerest apologies.” 

She highly doubts just how sincere that apology is, but she’s unphased all the same. 

“Apology accepted,” she sighs, swiping her palm on the side of her now dirty pants. Somewhere beneath the dust she’s now covered in, there’s blood from the intellect devourers, but that’s a problem for tonight. Not now, “I would have done the same thing.”

No, I wouldn’t have. From the very first moment I saw you, all I wanted to do was help. Every instinct in me screamed to help you. 

She’s lying, but she really doesn’t care that she’s lying. He has a tadpole. He can join them. She doesn’t care.

Back in the forefront of her mind, even ahead of the damned tadpole and the need for a healer, the need to keep them all alive, her brain is back to whispering of this Astarion. The quicker she carries out this predictable conversation, the quicker they can get back on the road. And the quicker she can find whoever Astarion is-

“I’m out of wine and flowers, so I hope an introduction will suffice,” his blood-red eyes meet hers, and something in her gut twists. As if she already knows. As if she’s just realized that she’s missed the obvious. “My name is Astarion. I was in Balder’s Gate when-”

Astarion. Save Astarion. Astarion. 

All the breath leaves her lungs as she interrupts, “You’re Astarion?”

[ominous-faechild]

Incorrect Quotes Tag

Rule: use this generator to create “incorrect quotes” for characters in your wip!

This tag was going around for a bit months back, but I'm reviving it!

WAVES OF MISFORTUNE

Zarina: I’m telling you, my team is competent. Cricket, rushing in: Zarina! Yesval tried to make pasta in the coffee pot and now it's broken!

Flavie: What are your adjectives? Yesval: …You mean my pronouns? Flavie: No, I know what your pronouns are! What are your adjectives? Yesval: …I dunno. What are yours? Flavie: Noisy and chaotic! Yesval: I’ve never had something go from making no sense to making complete sense so quickly.

Yesval: Do you ever get pre-annoyed? Like you already know someone is going to piss you off? Flavie: What? No, I— Benji: *enters room* Yesval: *jaw clenches*

Flavie: *gasp* Yesval: wHAT?? Flavie: What if soy milk is just milk introducing itself in Spanish? Yesval: *inhales* Tián, in another room with Benji: Why can I hear screeching?

Benji: ARE YOU- Tián: Fucking. Benji: KIDDING ME?! YOU- Tián: Fucking. Benji: IDIOT! Cricket: …What was that? Tián: Zarina banned Benji from swearing, so I’m helping him out.

Cricket, shakily: Please, just tell me what the book is about. The plot, please. Benji, reading an annotation on the cover of a book, unfazed: A subversive masterpiece. A deep and touching story. New York Times Bestseller. Cricket, now looking directly at Benji: Go fuck yourself.

Benji: Do dragons fart fire? Cricket: I don't know. Benji: I thought you went to college.

Cricket: Please pray for Benji. Tián: What happened to him? Cricket: Nothing, he's just very stupid.

Tián, at an awards show: Well, first of all, I’d like to thank Benji, the love of my life, for telling me Flavie was going to win so don’t bother to prepare a speech.

Tián: Wanna get out of here and grab a bite to eat? Benji: I don’t usually eat with losers. Tián: Neither do I but I asked you, didn’t I?

Tián: I love being right. It’s one of my favorite personality traits.

Zarina: What are you two arguing about this time? Benji: She's always using common phrases incorrectly! Flavie: Cry me a table, Benji.

Flavie: What do you guys do when you're stressed? Zarina: Try and calm myself down! Benji: Sleep. Cricket: Get myself into even more stress, so that the first reason for my stress gets cancelled out. Yesval: I don't.

Tián: Good night. Benji: Sleep tight. Yesval: Don't let the bedbugs crawl up to your ear and whisper threatening things that make you question yourself. Zhihao: Great, now Benji's crying.

Flavie, holding a gun: If the conspiracies about life being a simulation are true WHOEVERS CONTROLLING MY SIM I JUST WANNA TALK.

Flavie: Is this a good idea? Flavie: Probably not. Flavie: Do I care? Flavie: No.

Tián: I think Flavie is in trouble. Yesval: Alright. Struggling to give a fuck, if I’m honest.

Flavie: Benji, what are you doing tomorrow? Benji: Having my day ruined by whatever you’re about to ask me to do.

Benji: My goal is not to be the best, but to inspire someone enough to one day surpass me. Flavie: YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THAT EVERY TIME YOU BEAT ME AT CONNECT FOUR!

Flavie: Benji told me I was found in a KFC bucket next to a dumpster and I was rescued. Yesval: You probably were. Flavie: Oh crap, maybe that's the reason why. Maybe my lackluster feelings towards their fried chicken is because subconsciously I'm reliving the trauma whenever I see their trademark bucket. My brain and cognitive dissonance won't let me completely lie to myself and say I hate their food, because fried chicken is great and I want some now, instead it just steers me away. Thank you for helping to guide me towards this epiphany, perhaps now the healing can begin.

Zarina: What makes you all smile? Tián: Friends and Family. Flavie: Snacks. Benji: Victory and success. Yesval: Face muscles.

Benji: All the sudden I got a random burst of energy, and I think it's my body's last hurrah before it completely shuts down.

Benji, spraying a melted cutting board with a tiny water gun: We gotta cool this bitch down. Cool it down. Flavie: I actually just put the cutting board in the oven... Cricket, visibly confused: Okay, so they decided to put the cutting board in the oven? Benji, spraying Flavie: You FUCKING DUMBASS! Flavie: Dude, I forgot- Benji: OH MY FUCKING GOD! We're trying to make Chicken Alfredo right now, and you fucking MELT the cutting board in the oven at 400 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT!? Zarina: *Watching in complete confusion while trying to process this whole situation.*

Flavie: Why would anyone want to harm Benji? Yesval: Maybe because they met him?

*the TV is freaking out* Tián: Don’t worry, you have to treat an electronic like you treat a patient on life support. *unplugs the TV, then plugs it back in again. nothing changes* Tián: Yeah, that didn’t work with my grandma either.

Zarina: Ayo, what the FUCK is this?!? Yesval, sitting down, surrounded by corpses: I won Mafia, that’s what.

Flavie: *sharpens knife* We've got ways of making people talk. Flavie: *cuts piece of cake* Benji: ... Can I have some? Flavie: Cake is for talkers.

RISING FROM THE ASHES

Kieva, slamming pots and pans together to the rhythm of "Give it to me, I'm worth it": I didn't get no sleep cause a' y'all! Y'all never gonna sleep cause a' me!

Carmin: When life gives you lemons, what do you do? Sammy: Make lemonade! Carmin: No, throw them back up in the sky and make life deal with it’s own shit.

Kieva: Your smile looks forced. Carmin: That’s because it is.

Tián: I started school with straight A’s. Now I’m not even straight.

Kieva: I need life advice. Tián, sipping Gatorade and eating cookie dough: You came to the right person.

Tián: Do you ever think? Because I do not.

Caron: That's it, you're grounded! Tián, no adventures for you! Roman, no fighting for you! Taj, no stealing for you! And Al... oh gods, is there anything you love? Al: Revenge. Caron: No vengeance for you. Al: I was going to say "I'll get you for this," but I guess that's off the table.

Tián: And if you have any suggestions, please put them in the suggestion box. Kieva: That’s a trash can.

Mei: Are you this rude to everyone?! Carmin: Yup. Carmin: Don't think you're special.

Carmin: You’re kind of a pushover, aren’t you, Mei? Mei: … I’m sorry. Carmin: See!? That’s exactly what I’m talking about!

Mei: Do you mind if I slyly mention that you’re single? Carmin: Do not do that. Mei: You won’t even notice! Kieva, entering: Mei, you wanted to see me again? Mei: Carmin's single Carmin:

Mei: Did you win? Or just not die? Mei: Either way, hooray. Carmin: ...Is "no" a valid answer? Mei: The hooray is redacted and you frighten me.

Sammy: Of course I have a lot of pent-up rage, you fool! I've been the same height since I was twelve!

Police Officer: You have the right to remain silent. Sammy: I choose to waive that right! Sammy: *screams*

Flavie: So... who's the big spoon and who's the little spoon? Aditi: We're chopsticks! Flavie: Well... that's cute! Flavie: Does that mean you two snuggle together perfectly? Tián: No, it means that if you take the other away, the only thing the other is good for is stabbing.

Aditi: I’m so happy two of my favorite people are getting along now. Carmin: Uh, Tián and Taj are not getting along. Aditi: They’re not trying to kill each other. Carmin: You may have a point.

Zain: You’re alive. Roman: No need to sound so disappointed.

Elazi: Alright, so the vampire's gravestone is— Roman: Cenotaph. Elazi: What? Roman: It's only a gravestone if it marks the location of a body. A monument honouring someone whose body isn't present is a cenotaph. Elazi: I'm... not sure that's how it works if the body gets up and walks away on its own. Roman: There's a precedent for gravestones being reclassified as cenotaphs if the body is later removed and reinterred elsewhere. There's no rule that says the body itself can't do the removing. Elazi: Okay, but the body is very much coming back. That's kind of what we're here to accomplish. Roman: So it's a temporary cenotaph. Elazi: And naturally our greatest concern here is avoiding semantic ambiguity. Roman: Semantic ambiguity is how vampires get you.

Elazi: Do you want to know your gay name? Roman: My... my gay name? Elazi: Yeah, it's your first name- Roman: Haha. Very funny Elazi- Elazi: *gets down on one knee* And my last name. Roman: Oh- oh my god.

Tagging (no pressure!): @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet @illarian-rambling @ashirisu @urnumber1star

@the-letterbox-archives @48lexr @aalinaaaaaa @thecomfywriter @an-indecisive-nerd

@seastarblue @leahnardo-da-veggie @world-of-iridensia

Banners from @saradika

[arsene-ee]

This is literally just my opinion b4 anyone comes for me

I SWEAR ON MY BEST FRIEND, IF I SEE ANOTHER PERSON SAY THAT LARIAN DOES NOT NEED TO ADD CONTENT FOR WYLL (AND KARLACH) BECAUSE "tHe GaMe Is FiNiShEd" I WILL THROW HANDS.

Cuz like how come the character, who is the closest connected to the plot has 4 hours less content than fucking Astarion, who is the least relevant to the plot.

And I'm not even joking cuz like Shadowheart has the Artifact which makes her relevant. Lae'zel is a Githyanki and knows about the mindflayers which makes her relevant to the plot. Gale has his Orb which is basically a last resort to kill the netherbrain making him plot relevant. Karlach was Gortash's (🤢🤢🤢🤢) slave, giving you a reason to dislike him and a reason to fight him, making her plot relevant. Minthara had a thing with Orin and works under Ketheric Thorm, connecting her to the main Plot. Halsin studies the brain worms and He once attacked Ketheric Thorm which caused the shadow curse or something blah blah making him connected to the plot. Minsc and Jaheira both encountered a Baahlspawn before (probably makes more sense when you're playing Dark Urge) and know how to deal with them (they have a fun interaction with Saverok or whatever his name is when you bring them there) making them plot relevant.

AND WYLL, he is the Son of Ulder Ravengard, you know just the duke of Baldur's Gate, making Wyll also the potential Duke incase Ulder dies. Baldur's Gate itself most likely wouldn't be standing if it wasn't for him and the pact he made with Mizora. His dad gets kidnapped and Tadpoled and then he crowns Gortash (🤢🤢🤢🤢) Archduke and then gets imprisoned in the Ironthrone (where you need to go anyways if you want to destroy Gortash's (🤢🤢🤢🤢) tall robots. Wyll is then urged by his dad to find Ansur, which basically gives you one of the biggest plot twists in the history of plot twists and bad love affairs.

Meanwhile Astarion is just a dude, sure he was a corrupt judge like 200 years ago but at this point that is so irrelevant. In regards of plot relevancy you could replace Astarion with a random NPC and it wouldn't change anything. Honestly I think Larian just wanted a conventionally attractive vampire sad white boy for no real reason.

I'm not saying Astarion's personal story is Irrelevant, it's well written and I understand his motivation (altough the fantasy raceism wasn't necessary but what do I know, right?). And hell Neil did a great job voicing him and making him sound arrogant as well as breakable when needed. the fact that Astarion's arrogance is partly what makes me hate him and infuriates me pretty much show's me that Neil is a great voice actor (also on account of him portaying Kamski in DBH whom I also hate)

Certain people Baby Astarion way too much the 200 something year old dude, who already was an adult when he became a vampire, in the end what happened between him and the people he discriminated against was what he had coming.

Meanwhile people say that Wyll was old enough to know what he was doing when making his pact with Mizora and that he shouldn't have been so naive. Wyll was 17 when he made his pact. 17. Idk about you but I, as a 19 year old look at 17 year olds and think of them as Children. 17 year old is not mature enough to make such life changeing desicions, I as a 19 year old am not mature enough to make a desicion like that. Wyll lost everything he ever knew while he was still a child. He hasn't had privacy since he was 17, he spend 7 years being watched by Mizora, without an ounce of privacy.

Also before anyone comes at me for being uninformed that the response to Wyll in EA was to small to warrant more content. I KNOE THAT, I KNOW THAT THE RESPONSE TO HIM WAS LOW. Just the other day I saw a post about it. I also saw a post how, if Wyll was just a fraction as mean as astarion, he would be one of the most hated characters in the game, so yeah, think about that.

all I want is for all the characters to have an equal ammount of content, which either means giving the neglected characters more content or cutting down on content characters who already have more content have.

[the-astrophel-system]

rant // dont fucking complain in the comments if ive offended you

//

I am so fucking over seeing posts where people enjoy having fictives. where their introjects long for their partners or family or anything. I will be the first to admit that yes some of our introjects, specifically fictives, have felt that way. but it really fucking rubs me the wrong way when you see said introjects posting so fucking often that they miss their partner and wish they split those that they miss.

are you fucking serious?

this is a fucking traumagenic disorder where splits happen because of fucking trauma. they happen from stress. they happen from your brain having some kind of need that isn't being met.

literally fuck off. you want to split more? grow the fuck up and touch grass. no you fucking dont want that. i fucking promise you.

we recently had a split. we just so happen to have that alters partner in our system. you wanna know how thats going? they aren't fucking talking. because splitting isn't fucking fun. splitting people from your source isn't all fun and games. the alter we already had, while yeah they missed their partner, they dont fucking want them here. why? because DID is fucking hell and who the fuck would want to have more alters? who the fuck would want to split?

dont even get me fucking started on "source calls" or anything to do with an alter requesting sourcemates to interact. are you fucking kidding me? do you know how fucking easy it would be for anyone, literally anyone, to pretend they are your source partner. to say all the right things. to manipulate the fuck out of you.

not only is requesting your 'partner' or 'family' to interact, dangerous. but even if they are a genuine fucking system who has good intentions. they aren’t your fucking partner or family dude. they are an introject alter. they are what their brain needs. they will not be your partner. introjects aren’t their fucking source, and you are going against that entirely if you go looking for sourcemates.

i dont care if you miss your family and friends. but no random ass stranger online (or even irl system friends tbh) can fucking replace that.

now there is nothing wrong with having alters within your own system be dating. im not saying you cant. and im not saying you also can't happen to be dating someone who is your partner in source, in another system. im just saying it is fucking dangerous and anti-recovery if that is the reason you are dating them.

you are fucking using each other.

again, genuine connections can form. but i swear to fuck if anyone tries to twist my words i will lose it.

tldr; its fucking dangerous and anti-recovery to seek out your "partner/family" in another system. or to want to fucking split in your own system so you can have your partner there. that is fucked up and im sick of people acting like its not.

[rocketturtle4]

The Sign and it's Magic and some WILD arse theories

This is not meta this is me cataloguing my brains current tracking of The Sign and it's magic - plus some wild ass theories I AM SO EXCITED (I also know nothing about the mythology/stories on which any of this is loosely based) (If anyone has done or does meta on this, particularly the magic stuff I am SUPER curious but not the best at scrolling tumblr rn so feel free to tag me)

Okay SO

So green eyed stabby boy got green eyed RIGHT AFTER Phayas necklace broke off so it's reasonable to conclude these thins are connected

He ?wasn't a willing vessel, did the Mors essence somehow sneak in with the purpose of killing Phaya

Then we had Tharn use magic while grasping HIS necklace (his necklace which I have NOT been paying enough attention to)

Phaya burned green eyed Mor (revealing his green eyes) AFTER the necklace got put back on, but I am PRETTY SURE Phaya has touched him before then, so that suggests something happened to awaken his powers, presumably the same thing that awakened Tharns (what is that thing? Stress? Proximity? Time?)

@plantsarepeopletoo pointed out we had water dream for Tharn and FIRE dream for Phaya which is FASCINATING especially with the reveal of the giant (?fire?) bird at the end of the ep that is presumably Phaya

Question

Has the necklace been suppressing their powers? - things changed when Phaya's got broken and then Tharn ripped his off to throw that punches

Random Thoughts

Okay so we have been repeatedly told that Tharn did very bad things in his past life and the Karma of that means he should have died as a child, and is still constantly in danger (and maybe even his parents paid the partial price with their deaths...).

We know Green Eyes is possessive of him and currently the doctor, and presumably has always been the doctor and presumably knows who Tharn was. (Abbot seems to know this?)

Tharn is a ?water spirit, I know nothing. Seems to be not disimilar from a siren who lures men to their deaths

We had the cop dead in the second ep (I think) in the ocean, still not clear if suicide but that Phaya investigated and was then lured out to sea - siren links

Green Eyes is the water dragon

and then Phaya is a fire bird? pheonix?

(OH MY GOD THE WINGS, THE TATOO, THE FOESHADOWING AHHHH)

Wild Ass Theories

OKAY SO lets assume Past Tharn and Past Doctor are both water spirits/gods, they were bound together in some way (married? or the mythological inter-being equivelent?).

Past Tharn lured men to their deaths (siren thoughts, linked to the man who died and the fact that Phaya got lured out into the ocean - also might explain the bad karma)

Past Tharn lures in Fire spirit bird who is injured, something something something they fall in love.

Green eyes isn't okay with this for a multitude of reasons shit goes down and ?everyone dies

Details unknown, looks like we're getting backstory next ep

BUT

We do know that Past!Phaya is also someone past!Tharn wronged right? so maybe past!tharn betrayed his love in the end, and that is how they died... or maybe past!Tharn killed himself after his love died as a result of Tharns betrayal...Maybe even swearing that in his next life he would give his own life before letting him die again (thereby explaining the focus of the visions)

Did green eyes die at all then or has he been living on, waiting for his love (Tharn) to reincarnate?

Phaya seems to be getting at least some memories back, more than Tharn so far. Phaya remembers him as a siren and now he remembers his past self too at least a little. Of course this is a dream, it may well be only half remembered when he wakes.

Other Thoughts

Of course this show also has a whole crime thriller thing which I am loving and I have thoughts and questions about that too, but they're mostly magic related... (why the vision of Tharns dad at THAT moment? was the truck vision of his dad, cause the show seemed to imply it was though his visions are normally future. Although he also saw that girl die which was in the past and seemed to be about proximity and perhaps the strength of her emotions idk. So what about that proximity triggered the vision)

I think that's emptied my brain, thankfully, GOSH I LOVE THIS SHOW

[nerawrites]

Chapter 9: Fak

Previous chapter | Next Chapter

Ships: Fak x fem!OC (platonic)

Warnings: none (i think)

Song:I Wanna Be Your Dog-The Stooges

A/N

Hi hi hi.

Just a reminder that these chapters are Alicia Looking back at moment/s that she makes a connection with The Bear staff. Chapter 4 is where we are in the present.

Masterlist

Alicia walks home, the cold biting at her skin as the city hums around her. Her body is sore from another shift, but it’s nothing she isn’t used to. What she isn’t used to is everything else. The way this place, this kitchen, is starting to feel less like another stop and more like something that will hook on.

She hadn’t planned on staying long. Actually, she hadn’t planned on anything, really. But in the weeks since she arrived, she’s met people—loud, messy, brilliant people who have wormed their way into her days whether she meant for them to or not. Some challenged her, some surprised her, and some made her wonder if she’d been wrong about keeping herself at arm’s length.

And now, for the first time since she started at The Bear, she has a couple of days to herself. Marcus is flying out to Copenhagen to train at Noma, his excitement buzzing through the kitchen all week. Richie’s heading to Ever, thrown into the deep end of a Michelin-starred dining room to learn the art of hosting. Tina and Ebra are back at culinary school, proving—to themselves more than anyone—that it’s never too late to sharpen their skills. And Carmy and Sydney are drowning in last-minute details for the friends-and-family menu debut, their heads bent over stacks of papers and ingredient lists long after the rest of them clocked out.

For once, there’s no shift to prep for, no rush to anticipate. Just quiet, just time. She exhales into the cold, shoving her hands into her pockets, and lets her mind wander—to the names, the faces, the connections she never expected to make. The ones that linger, even after she’s walked out the door.

…Fak

Fak had been at The Bear long enough to be comfortable, but that didn’t mean he was one for small talk. He was, for all intents and purposes, a man of few words—unless you caught him on one of his rare, slightly manic tangents about conspiracy theories or random facts that made everyone else in the kitchen stop what they were doing just to try to figure out where it all came from. Alicia had caught him in the middle of one of these tangents once—something about the moon landing being a hoax—and had learned that Fak’s mind worked in mysterious and often hilarious ways.

Today, however, Fak was unusually quiet. His usual blend of sarcastic humor and offbeat commentary was missing. He had his headphones on, but Alicia could still see his eyes darting around, like his brain was working overtime, processing more than usual.

“Everything okay, Fak?” Alicia asked, glancing over at him while she trimmed some fish. She’d gotten used to working next to him, their movements syncing as they chopped and seared in comfortable silence. But today, Fak was off.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he muttered, not really looking at her. “Just… y’know, thinking about stuff.”

Alicia raised an eyebrow. Fak wasn’t one to get lost in deep thoughts. He was more of the type to drop a joke about some weird-ass food trend or sarcastically critique Marcus’s latest Instagram post than to stew over “stuff.”

“Stuff?” she prodded, giving him a side-eye as she flipped a fillet in the pan. “What kind of ‘stuff’ are we talking about? Like how pineapples don’t belong on pizza or—”

“Don’t even start with the pineapple thing, Alicia. I swear, I’ll end this kitchen’s existence if you start that debate,” Fak interrupted, holding up his knife like a warning. “No, this is… different. Just got a lot on my mind.”

Alicia could tell he wasn’t about to spill, but she wasn’t going to let him off that easily. Fak had been around long enough for her to know when something was brewing underneath his tough exterior. And something definitely was.

“Don’t tell me you’re contemplating the meaning of life or something,” she teased, her lips curling into a smirk. “I always thought you were more the ‘live fast, eat pizza, avoid drama’ type.”

Fak snorted, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “Yeah, well, that was the plan. But apparently life has other ideas. Stupid life, always trying to get deep when you just wanna eat a burger and go home.”

He paused, as if reconsidering whether he’d let her in. Alicia just waited. Fak wasn’t a talker by nature, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t eventually crack.

“Alright, fine,” he sighed, dramatically throwing his hands up in the air. “I’ve been thinking about—” He looked around the kitchen as if checking to see if anyone was eavesdropping. “Well, you know, the usual. Like, why is it that everyone in this kitchen knows how to make something complicated, but nobody can just make a simple damn sandwich properly? What is that? You got Marcus out here working on a goddamn souffle while no one knows how to spread mustard on rye bread without turning it into a crime scene.”

Alicia couldn’t help but laugh. Fak had a point—Marcus’s “complicated” sandwiches were a thing of legend.

“Sounds like a you problem,” she joked. “You’re the one who made the new bacon jam for the menu, not Marcus. You should be the one fixing the sandwich issue.”

Fak grinned. “Yeah, well, I’ll get on that after I solve world hunger and figure out why half the people in this kitchen don’t know how to use a sharp knife. Seriously, it’s like… a curse.”

Alicia rolled her eyes but chuckled. “It’s because people think they can buy a $5 knife and magically be able to cut like a pro. It’s like me buying a Ferrari and thinking I can race it on the highway.”

Fak turned to her, his eyes twinkling. “Well, if you did buy a Ferrari, I’d want to see it. You know, for research purposes… to check if it’s really as shiny as they say.”

“Oh, sure. For research purposes,” Alicia said dryly. “I’d love to see you try to drive stick.”

He snorted. “Hey, don’t underestimate me. I’d totally crush it, even though I’m pretty sure the car would explode the second I hit the gas. That’s how things work with me. I’m like a walking disaster.”

“Fak, that’s just your brand at this point,” Alicia said, grinning at him. “The guy who causes chaos but makes it look cool.”

Fak gave a mock bow. “Thank you, thank you. I accept all forms of praise.”

As they worked side by side, the easy banter between them flowed more freely. It wasn’t about forcing each other into deep, emotional conversations—it was just the kind of friendship that existed in shared moments, stupid jokes, and weird thoughts that didn’t need to make sense to anyone else.

Alicia knew Fak was never going to be someone who spilled his guts. But she didn’t mind. Not everyone had to wear their heart on their sleeve to be a good friend. Fak was the type of guy who knew exactly when to throw in the sarcastic comment or offer a ridiculous piece of advice that made you laugh harder than you should have.

She liked that about him. And honestly? She thought he liked her weird, reserved, non-disclosure- agreement-version of a personality too.

“So, let me ask you this,” Alicia said, tossing the fish on a plate and leaning in to hear his response. “If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

Fak immediately grinned, wiping his hands on his apron like he was preparing for a heavyweight fight.

“Simple,” he said. “Tacos. Tacos are the perfect food. They’re versatile, they’re delicious, and you can never go wrong. They’ve got all the food groups covered—protein, carbs, cheese… and more cheese. It’s a full meal in a shell. Perfect.”

Alicia snickered, shaking her head. “You’re such a cliché.”

Fak gave her a mock-serious look. “Hey, tacos are universal. Tacos transcend time and space. You can’t argue with that.”

“Oh, I’m not arguing. I just think your taco obsession might be a little… unhealthy,” Alicia teased.

Fak shrugged nonchalantly. “Tacos are my therapy, Alicia. If you can’t appreciate that, then I’m afraid we can’t be friends anymore.”

“Well,” Alicia said with a wink, “looks like you’re stuck with me, Fak. Who else would put up with your taco obsession?”

Fak chuckled, shaking his head, but his smile was genuine. “Guess you’re right. I’ll keep you around for the tacos—and for when I need someone to agree with my conspiracy theories.”

“Deal,” Alicia said, feeling like she’d just added a new layer to her already weird and quirky friendship with Fak. One that, for the first time in a while, felt a little more comfortable than usual.

[whysamwhy123]

I don't normally do this but fuck it, I'm Unwell and need the distraction. Here's a random OrangeHook drabble/ficlet whatever that just oozed out of my brain in the last ten minutes. Enjoy? Maybe?

''Damn. Who's that?''

Orange's head turns as Hook takes a seat on the couch next to him. His eyes are fixed on the woman on screen. Orange doesn't blame him.

''Stacy Keibler.''

Orange had been in a nostalgic mood lately so he was watching a bunch of old episodes of Smackdown. He didn't think Hook was paying attention, but he guessed a woman like that is hard to ignore.

Hook hums, transfixed as Stacy makes her entrance, that slooooow way she'd go through the ropes while the cameras loving caressed those long legs of hers.

''I like her,'' Hook says, simply.

Orange lets a little huff of laughter out. ''You like blondes.''

Hook smiles. ''I'm a gentleman.''

Orange shakes his head emphatically. But the young man is too busy ogling Stacy to acknowledge it.

''That was a reference you probably don't get it,'' Hook says. ''You see, there's an old movie called Gentlemen Prefer -''

''I know what it's a reference to,'' Orange cuts him off. This kid, he swears.

Hook still cannot tear his eyes away from the beauty on the screen. Orange is having more fun watching Hook, the way his eyes slowly follow her whenever she's on screen, the way his shoulders lower whenever they cut away and then raise the second she's back. It's like he's watching himself back in his teenage years.

''Those legs,'' Hook astutely observes.

Orange gives him a look and this time, Hook actually glances over and catches it.

He smiles at him, ''What? Does it make you uncomfortable when I talk about women like that?''

Orange snorts. ''Kid, I was checking out women while you were still in diapers.'' Orange looks back at the screen and yeah. Yeah. He absolutely cannot blame the kid for staring. ''Specifically that one.''

''Good to know we have even more in common,'' Hook says.

A vague memory occurs to Orange, something he's not entirely sure happened but if it did, it's another weird connection between the person beside him and the person on screen. ''I think your dad put the Taz-mission on her once?''

Hook laughs out loud. ''I'll bet. He was probably mad that she's taller than him.'' He paused briefly. ''Those legs.''

''You already said that.''

''It bares repeating. She a wrestler?''

''Kinda? More of a valet.''

Hook nods and his teeth start to worry his bottom lip for a second. It does something to Orange. Always does.

''I'm thinking I need a valet,'' Hook says.

Orange throws his hands up. ''Alright, you twisted my arm - I'll do it. Let me find a pair of booty shorts and I'll be good to go.''

It earns him another even louder laugh. It also earns him Hook's full attention, Keibler be damned.

''I know that was a joke, but...I'd like to see it.''

Orange cracks up, embarrassingly loud. ''You and no one else. But nah, I think you'd suit 'em better. You've got nicer legs than she does.''

Hook's reaction is priceless - a man torn between his desire to defend the honor of his new crush and his own ego demanding that he take the compliment and run with it. In the end, he settles for a smirk and a shrug. Orange returns the smirk.

There's a single beat, before Hook's on him, hands capturing his face, feverishly kissing him while grinding in his lap.

God bless Stacy Keibler.

[usermischief]

♞Pairing: Steo ♞Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken ♞Tags: first son Stiles, bodyguard Theo, secret relationship ♞Words: 949 ♞Prompt: “I assume I deserve this, but can you tell me why you want to kill me this time?” ♞Mini Fic Roulette: 34/∞

---

“Okay, put the lamp down.” Theo’s voice is heavy with indifference. At least, he has half the mind to keep his hands in the air because that at least means Stiles managed to cause a bit of unease. It’s not even that he wants to end Theo’s life and then some; it’s more about scaring some sense into him. 

Stiles slams the lamp back on the nightstand, the sound too loud in the brief silence of the room. “One day, when you least expect it. I swear-” he cuts off and crosses his arms tightly over his chest.

Sighing deeply, Theo lowers his arms. “I assume I deserve this, but can you tell me why you want to kill me this time?”

“You are—” Stiles isn’t exactly surprised by Theo’s ignorance. It’s not his responsibility to keep up with social media or other publications — that’s what Lydia has been hired for. Unfortunately, he isn’t even interested in staying connected to his friends and family living on the other side of the country. Otherwise, he most likely would already been aware of doing something wrong. Which, he technically didn’t. It’s still a stupid fucking mistake. Exhaling sharply, Stiles unlocks his phone and tosses it at Theo, who catches it with his stupid, lightning-fast reflexes. If only Theo’s brain would work as fast as the rest of his body.

Furrowing his brows, Theo reads the headline of one of the various articles Stiles has chosen. He blinks. Reads it again. The weight of the situation finally seems to sink in as Theo pales and sinks to the edge of Stiles’ bed. “You dad is going to end me.”

“Oh, so you’re scared of my dad?” Stiles retorts, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

“Your dad,” Theo snaps, his frustrations more than clear as he drops Stiles’ phone beside him, “is the fucking president.”

“And you’re a fucking idiot.” Stiles rounds the bed, huffing out a breath. “I mean, seriously... your wallpaper?” He flicks Theo’s forehead, merely raising a brow as his dear boyfriend glares at him. As adorable as it is, Theo should’ve known better than to use a picture of them as his phone’s background. His private phone, yes, but his phone, nonetheless. People know who he is. They look at him too, even though Theo doesn’t like to think about that. Someone was bound to see and take a picture and from there on out, it spread like wildfire.

Theo tugs on his suit jacket, his expression adorably helpless as he looks up at him. Usually, Theo doesn’t fuck up. Perfect Theodore Raeken is not accustomed to making mistakes. He’s the best at his job, and Stiles’ dad’s biggest hope at reigning his son in. It worked, to a degree. Mostly because they started dating, and Stiles’ priorities shifted away from hooking up with random strangers.

Letting out a breath, Stiles cups Theo’s cheeks. “When I said I’m tired of hiding our relationship, I didn’t mean ‘tell the whole world’.” Stiles can keep himself from smiling as he leans down and kisses Theo’s forehead. “It’s cute though.” Despite his frustration with the situation, Stiles can’t really stay angry now that Theo looks so defeated.

Theo slumps forward, burying his face against Stiles’ stomach, and groans softly. “I fucked up.”

“Happens to the best of us.” Stiles runs his fingers through Theo’s shorts strands. They’ve been dating for four months, and while Stiles can’t deny that he’s fallen pretty damn hard for him, he didn’t expect that Theo is the one messing up by having the two of them as his wallpaper. He wasn’t aware they’ve reached that stage yet. “I hope this teaches you to be more careful from now on.” And if this situation doesn’t get it through Theo’s head, his father’s tirade most likely will. After all, he hired Theo to be Stiles’ bodyguard and dating his only son isn’t exactly part of the job description.

As if on cue, Stiles’ phone vibrates with a very short text message from his dad.

> My office. Now.

Stiles pats the back of Theo’s head gently. “Time to put on your big boy pants, babe, the boss is demanding our presence.” He’s not looking forward to this conversation. Not even a little bit, despite knowing that his dad is cool with them dating. Learning about them through tabloids is what he’s mad at. As well as knowing that the press is going to have a field day with the first son dating his bodyguard. Lydia is not going to be happy either because all of this means she’s got her work cut out for her.

Theo whines softly and wraps his arms around Stiles’ waist as if that could save him from facing the music.

As much as Stiles would love to continue cuddling his boyfriend, experience taught him that avoiding the lecture will only make everything worse. They might have the chance to do some damage control if they don’t hide from the consequences. “It’s going to be fine,” Stiles assures Theo, running his fingers over the nape of his neck, “once he’s done yelling.”

Theo whines again, a little louder this time, but he lets go of Stiles and stands up, looking like he’s about to throw up. How strange that he’s ready to stand in front of a gun without breaking a sweat, but Stiles’ dad being angry with him terrifies him.

Smiling faintly, Stiles brushes his lips against the corner of Theo’s mouth and intertwines their fingers, squeezing Theo’s hand gently. “Let’s go.”

“Okay,” Theo breathes, holding onto Stiles’ hand so tightly, Stiles doubts he’ll let go of him anytime soon.

[threemoonwatchers]

So I went to a bookstore and got Thunder…

-Starting out the book believing Splashtail attacked her because let’s be honest he was the only one she told and the Erins are here for the drama

-“SHE WAS NEVER MEANT TO BE A MEDICINE CAT” OKAY WOW STRAIGHT UP

-Okay alright everyone’s suddenly respecting Nightheart something’s wrong

-REEEEEE IVYPOOL AS DEPUTY IM SO HAPPY ABOUT THIS ACTUALLY

-i forgot Spotfur named her kits after dead people zycjvjgufyvu

- (p. 76) wow sunbeam really said “language, Cap”

-(p. 92) not Whistlepaw being the entire Ninjago fandom to Frostpaw’s Lloyd

-(p. 98) please let the companion be Shadowsight please let the companion be Shadowsight

-(p. 102)oh come on please tell me it’s not Nightheart can it be Shadowsight just this once I wanna see them interact and become besties

-(p. 107) “They’d be kind of famous?”Like one of the lights in the mist??? Meaning IT COULD STILL BE SHADOWSIGHT???

-(p. 108-109) …crap it’s not Shadowsight

-(p. 114) I actually panicked for a second about Nightheart being gone and then I realized. Oh yeah. He’s with Frostpaw. Whoops.

-(p. 118) I just remembered the scene in Squirrelflight’s Hope where she and Leafpool were talking about Squirrelflight (or I guess Squirrelstar now this feels so surreal) being clan leader and Leafpool being her medicine cat and I just realized that they were sO CLOSE TO HAVING IT BUT THEY ACHIEVED THEIR DREAM AT TWO DIFFERENT TIMES and I’m sad now

-(p. 136-137) Rootspring: That’s my dad! :D

-(p. 141) Look at it, it’s got anxiety 🩵

-(p. 161) Nightheart I swear if you pull a Cinderpelt-

-(p. 171) I’m sorry WHO IS SPEAKING FOR RIVERCLAN???

-(p. 172) I keep forgetting there’s canonically a cat named Icewing and every time she’s mentioned my brain immediately goes to Winter from Wings of Fire-

-(p. 179) nope this plan of Berryheart’s has to be somehow connected to Frostpaw’s attempted murder

-(p. 207) hold on Cherryfall’s OLD??? Where the heck did the time go-

-(p. 221) hold on how do these two random dudes know about Riverstar???

-(p. 221) calling it now at least a few of em are gonna be taken into RiverClan

-(p. 224) Nightheart and Frostpaw: *casually infodumping about life*

-(p. 228) Oh HeY tHe MeDiTaTiOn WoRkEd WhAdDaYa KnOw

-(p. 230) haha yes think about Splashtail it’s gotta be him

-(p. 237) I WAS RIGHT LETS GOOO I WAS RIGHT FROM THE BEGINNING

-(p. 237) Frostpaw 🤝 Lloyd: getting a love interest that ends up being the main villian of the arc said love interest appears in

-(p. 259) nOPE NOPE DUSKFUR’S GONNA DIE CALLING IT NOW.

-(p. 294) hOLD ON W H A T??? CURLFEATHER TOO??? Dude this girl is gonna have some serious trauma when this all blows over

-(p. 294) also was the vision of the curled feathers in the earlier books supposed to be a warning??? Or was it just her mind begging for a response to the need for a new leader??? Or is someone in StarClan working against them??? That whole vision just doesn’t make sense-

-(p. 313) “Curlfeather must be heartbroken that Frostpaw followed her to StarClan so soon.” Ahaha yeah about that-

-(p. 319) OH GAWSH ITS A FULL SCALE MUTINY

-(p. 321) how dare you make it seem like Shadowsight’s gonna be important when he’s not :(

-(p. 322) YESSS SLAYYY PUDDLESHINE

-(p. 334) OH MY GOODNESS WE’VE FINALLY DONE IT WE’VE FINALLY GOT AN EVIL MEDICINE CAT even if Podlight isn’t technically a medicine cat but shhhh

-(p. 338) UH YOU CANT JUST END A BOOK LIKE THAT ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW??? NOW I HAVE TO WAIT LIKE SIX MONTHS A G A I N ? ?