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star-girl69 · 11 months ago

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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!!

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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itadores · 11 months ago

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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.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #maki x reader #maki zenin x reader #zenin maki x reader #jujutsu kaisen x platonic reader #jjk x platonic reader #maki zenin x platonic reader #platonic reader #new.mail #from.jujutsu kaisen #love.zenin maki

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ominous-feychild · 7 days ago

Text

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

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ghost-proofbaby · 10 months ago

Text

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?”

#if it's out of character choose to look away man idk what to tell you #my writing #ghost's stories #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion romance #astarion fanfic #it is what it is #they've met but at what cost #the moon will sing #it'll get better as we dig into the plot scout's honor #(i was never a boy scout)

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the-astrophel-system · 1 year ago

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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.

#rant #did #dissociative identity disorder #actually did #introject #endos do not touch this post #anti endo #source call #did system #actually cdd #did splitting #osdd

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rocketturtle4 · 11 months ago

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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

#The Sign #The Sign The Series #Incoherant ramblings of a fantasy nerd #rturts is wondering

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whysamwhy123 · 1 year ago

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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.

#Sam actually wrote a thing #OrangeHook #Hook/Orange Cassidy #No idea where this came from #I just thought it was funny in my head?#But man do I love writing these two #And if anyone can find the actual clip of the Taz-Stacy incident let me know #I have no idea if that actually happened or if I'm just making my memories at this point

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usermischief · 1 year ago

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♞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.

#steo #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #teen wolf #stiles x theo #theo x stiles #minificroulette #*tv:teen wolf #*w:complete #*s:steo

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hey-hamlet · 2 years ago

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Hello hi!! I kinda miss your au talk, so is it okay to ask for more? I really want to know more about your newest villain's quarter au, but if there's a specific au you'd like to talk about I'd love to read it <33

It's always ok to ask for more! I've been missing a bit bc my body had stopped feeling hunger for like a month and it's really hard to eat - coupled with uni starting again I'm just exhausted haha! But! I have still had AUs on the brain so lemme yell ab them.

Aizawa goes to the villain's quarter pretty regularly - its not a good idea to arrest someone within one because you'll get put on every shit list ever and also, in the moment, pumped full of lead. Daylight heroes don't enter for a few reasons - they'll get shot at, every villain in the area will actively try to hunt them down and also the HPSC doesn't pay heroes for incidents resolved within dead zones. It's a legal limbo tbh. However, a few underground heroes tend to frequent each one - there is always someone willing to sell out a competitor, or someone who talks too much in the clubs and casinos people from outside pretend they don't visit.

Hes confused to learn the fancy bar has started opening during the day and even move confused when he finds out its now selling food. It doesn't have a set menu - there is a meal each day, one option with meat and one without, a bowl of rice and a small soup. If you can pay, it's 700 yen. If you can't, its free. The catch is the people running the bar are very well connected and know if you can pay - if you run without paying, you get banned.

Given that its the only restaurant in the villain's quarter - the only place many people feel they can go for food without getting harassed or arrested, its very popular. Aizawa would, at a later date, say he'd gone to get some information - but, at the time, he was honestly just curious. And hungry. The shogayaki was sweet with an intense almost caramelised ginger flavour, the salad was light, the egg drop soup was light with fine ribbons of egg and the rice was soft and fluffy with little packet of furikake and seaweed if he wanted it. It was really good - not gourmet, but warm and homey. Intensely comforting.

Not something you'd expect to find in a bar deep inside the Mutsutafu Dead Zone.

The sight of a young teen humming to himself in the kitchen as he neatly shreds more cabbage is concerning, but its Sunday afternoon - he might be helping out a family member, or, worse but not terrible - young enough that this was the only place that would employ him. He was too thin, but not to a medically concerning degree, right on the line between naturally thin and just plain hungry. When he comes in about a week later, 10am on a Wednesday when any kid should be in school and the kid is still there, tasting a pot of admittedly amazing smelling curry, he gets Very Worried. He keeps coming, wanting desperately to be able to help but not knowing where to start, other than just looking out where he can, talking to the kid, letting him know someone cares.

Tomura wants to kill him, Kurogiri swears he feels familiar, AFO is suddenly hit but a very awkward reminder that Shirakumo was not a random fun dead body he picked up but had friends who mourned him and then proceeded to cope in unhealthy ways by becoming underground heroes who didn't sleep.

Izuku had to go shriek in the walk in fridge when he realised he'd been chatting to Eraserhead the whole time.

#asks #bnha au #villains quarter au #i can eat a solid 1 and a half meals a day so i've started drinking a lot of juice tbh #no doctors care bc im a little overweight (: so its 'good im loosing weight!' (:#the like #threshold for concern is 10% body weight over 6 months for unintentional weightloss #halfway there lmaooooo

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arsene-ee · 3 months ago

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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.

#stop babying Astarion #he was old enough to know what he was doing #Larian needs to stop showing their favouritism towards astarion #I am ranting again #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3

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threemoonwatchers · 1 year ago

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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 ? ?

#is it obvious yet that Shadowsight is my favorite #live Moonzie reaction #warriors #thunder spoilers #Frostpaw warriors #sunbeam warriors #Nightheart warriors #shadowsight warriors #Puddleshine warriors #berryheart warriors #Curlfeather warriors #splashtail warriors #icewing warriors #Podlight warriors

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theroastedwretch · 2 years ago

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Between the Lines- Ep. 4

Warnings- PG-13 due to Swearing and Explicit Language, Mature Themes, possible Violent References

Index Ep. 3

The quick succession of Dan’s revelations the night before, the kidnapper’s threats, Dan’s accident, and Jake reverting back into his more calculating side after I thought we’d started moving past that all piled on top of my brain’s sluggish resistance to starting the day made the morning rather bleak.

I agreed not to send the video, even though something in my gut told me it was wrong. I was the one of the two of us that predicted people better, as unbelievable as it was. But the facade seemed to crack for a second as he pleaded, and I reminded myself again that it was not about me as my jealousy spiked at the memory of the initials on the bracelet.

I was quickly proven right, of course, when the kidnapper sent it to Cleo once he realized I wasn’t going to send it, and I knew I’d lost a little bit of the trust they’d had in me when they found out that I’d gotten it already, and it wasn’t my first.

The first one hadn’t mattered, it was just pointed at me. But this one had been more personal to them, and I could see the cracks in the group growing because of it.

Lilly, especially, seemed angry, and I knew nothing about her to be able to predict what she’d do. At least Dan wasn’t here to make me look even worse.

Too soon, MC, too soon.

Still, once the adrenaline faded and my phone quieted, I found myself sitting on the edge of my bed, staring blankly at my shaking hands. The threat may have been empty, just meant to scare me, but it worked. We could rationalize it all we wanted, logic our way through it, but the truth is that none of that would really be enough to stop the cold fingers of fear crawling their way up my stomach through to my chest and making it hard to breathe.

This was all a show for me, and I hated every second of it.

But no one would forgive me for turning it off, either. Especially me. ___

Richy’s story about the dare house, and sudden attempts to connect with me, only compounded the unsettling feeling I’d been dealing with since the call.

First of all, Duskwood was weird. Maybe I was just sheltered but I didn’t start to do stupid shit like wandering through woods and knocking on random doors until I was like sixteen, not eleven. At that age, the worst I got was playing Bloody Mary or Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board.

But their stuff seemed actually dangerous. Were there no homeless people or drug addicts in Duskwood who might take up residence in that house and be none too pleased to be subjected to kids getting their danger fix by making noise every night?

Maybe I was overthinking it, but Duskwood seemed to have more than its fair share of legends and monsters, and it seemed like they were coming to life.

Especially once the same Raven from Hannah’s phone ended up on Richy’s door.

I couldn’t blame Lilly for her fear. In some ways, she made the most sense of the bunch. As mad as her accusations made me, I knew I’d be just as angry. From her perspective, I was a total stranger that only got pulled in because of a message that Thomas got, but it seemed like no one else saw because it vanished.

Then, for seemingly no reason, I stuck around, charmed some of her friends, ignored threats to their safety, got them riled up and digging into fairy tales, and somehow had a picture that her sister took.

Yeah, I looked almost as shady as Thomas and Dan had acted over the stupid key.

Still, it hurt to hear, and to be reminded of just how tentative my place in the group really was, even after all the time and energy I’d put into them. Jessy’s defense soothed me a bit, but I still found myself wrapping my arms around my chest and staring at my phone sadly as I got to hear what people really thought of me. And I didn’t even get a vote.

Middle school all over again.

So when Jake intervened in the vote, I was torn. On one hand, strong-arming them into keeping me around, threatening them, and revealing that we were spying on them was not the way to gain their trust back.

On the other hand… It was pretty hot. ___

My more reasonable, less hormone driven reaction to Jake’s video was confirmed nearly immediately, when Jessy freaked out about him reading our conversation. And there wasn’t much I could do to reassure her without lying, since he definitely was reading most of the time (and maybe sometimes it was part of our weird flirting ritual? No way I’d tell her that though), and she had every right to be freaked out by it. Like a normal person.

I couldn’t be surprised when she dropped our chat, and told myself not to take it personally. Still. If she changed her vote, I would be out no matter how Dan voted. And I knew how Dan was going to vote. Other than when he was drunk, he’d made it clear the whole time that I was a pest to him.

I wondered if the vote was just over the group chat, or the group as a whole. If Lilly managed to evict me, would I lose Jessy, who I’d come to adore? I didn’t feel as close to Cleo, but we had started getting closer recently and I enjoyed our conversations too. I didn’t fool myself into thinking her vote was much more than a combination of wanting her friend back and the same false bravado that had led to her dismissal of the video, though.

I tried to reflect on what the vote so far had revealed rather than letting myself worry about the result. Lilly and Jessy were obvious— both were guided by emotions. Lilly was terrified, and Jessy was loyal.

Thomas had surprised me a bit. He’d been so pushy towards me at first, wanting me to stay. But thinking back, ever since we’d found the body he’d had little to do with me, even once discovering that it wasn’t Hannah. I guess the lack of results made me less relevant to him.

Richy. Well. On one hand, he was definitely a people pleaser. He knew Jessy and I were close, and I can’t imagine she’d be pleased with him if he tried to vote me out. But Lilly would be mad if he didn’t. So instead of making things worse for someone, he made things better for no one.

But really, it was his reason that was interesting. Even before Jake had intervened, Richy mentioned my connection to him. And he’d brought it up with the picture of the Raven earlier. But then, he’d considered it a bad thing, and now it was good?

How did he even know for sure that I was working with Jake? The picture might have been a one-off, and Jessy was the only one I’d discussed him with to any length, and even then it was mainly to say I liked him.

Nothing more would be decided until Dan joined us, so I tried to put the vote out of my mind to discuss the bracelet with Jake.

His theory about Thomas was interesting, but I wasn’t sure it fit his personality. I hadn’t seen him as a man of action much, though I guess Breaking and Entering with an illegally made key could certainly be called an action.

He was up to something, that was for sure. But if he took Hannah, then would the body they actually found just be unrelated? Were there two bodies in the forest but only one had been found?

I had wondered why the police would tell him that the body wasn’t Hannah’s. Maybe they didn’t, and he just knew it couldn’t be based on the body’s location?

I didn’t mention this to Jake (and totally not because I was still worried about the J being for his name), but the theory about the initials didn’t sit right either. I didn’t have much engraved jewelry, but the pieces I did have were engraved with my initials, not who gave them to me.

My parents’ wedding rings had been engaged, but it was both of their initials to symbolize their love. But custom jewelry was usually customized for the wearer, not the giver. Right?

I was starting to get frustrated with the number of clues that were refusing to fit together in any way. So even though I was still kind of ticked about his refusal to vote, I let myself relax and joke with Richy about the mark.

His humor was pleasantly irreverent at times, and I wondered a bit what was below that. He didn’t strike me as the sort who joked about serious things to be an ass like Dan, and he didn’t seem just clueless. It was the sort of laughter designed to make others relax, and cope with whatever he was feeling.

For me, mine had started as a way to handle my depression, finding light where it seemed impossible. It worked well to deflect, too. Keep people from seeing if you were really upset, or about to break. Richy Roger, what are you feeling?

His point about being watched gave me goosebumps. The Man Without a Face had already proven he had eyes on Cleo, and now Richy?

I didn’t see much of note in his conversation with Phil, though. It didn’t strike me as much more than normal warnings to back off from a man who didn’t like being pushed.

Not for the first time, I appreciated Jake’s constant monitoring of my phone when my thoughts were interrupted by the kidnapper’s night call, strangely even more threatening without words.

Jake was clearly bothered by it too, since for the first time he didn’t rush to label it a good thing, or an empty threat. I found myself cracking jokes to reassure him, and felt a little warm when he laughed.

His discomfort was explained further when he gave me the name of Hannah’s doctor. Right. The depression thing, he clearly still struggled with the idea.

When he asked me to find the password, I was glad to be able to help with something. Just to take some pressure off him and definitely not because I wanted him to praise me. Nope.

The password the doctor used made me roll my eyes. At least use an exclamation point! But also, I needed to change all of my passwords. All of them. Even if I used an exclamation point, that was too easy.

Dan’s return started my anxiety up all over again, since I’d already decided how that was going to end. But hopefully between spy mode, and whatever I could glean from Jessy if she was willing to work with me still, I’d be able to figure something out.

It was good that he was awake, though— I hadn’t expected him to recover quite that quickly. I might not be close to him, but I didn’t want him to die. Hopefully he learned something about drunk driving. I wouldn’t get into it with him, that wasn’t my place, but I was definitely more mad at him than his friends seemed to be for his reckless endangerment. He could do what he wanted to himself, but what would have happened if someone else got hurt?

I wondered if there would be charges.

When Lilly brought up the vote, I quickly forgot my anger and tensed up, waiting.

His breezy support of me left me wide-eyed and confused. Lilly, too, seemed caught off guard, and I remembered he’d been the one she asked to come over with her when she’d found out about the body. Since he’d asked out Jessy not long after, I didn’t let myself think too much about it. But were they close?

I wondered if things would have been easier if he’d just voted me out. I knew from experience that adding betrayal to an already hurting mind could end very poorly. Her abrupt departure sounded like a slammed door in my mind. ___

The psychologist’s recording that Jake found was a lot to take in, and I found myself replaying it several times to digest before saying anything.

It was clear he didn’t believe her, despite his protests, and while her kidnapping made that infuriating in hindsight… she’d been followed before?

I hadn’t heard of depression manifesting with hallucinations, but who knew if that was her only diagnosis? Didn’t I know about comorbidity better than most, after all, with the ADHD and Borderline Personality? There were so many things that weren’t treated with meds, just therapy and coping mechanisms, so without her full records, we’d probably never know. The fear in her voice was real, no matter if her stalker was or not.

I tried to imagine the stress, the frustration, of telling someone about a terrifying experience and having them smile and nod, humoring you. No wonder she wouldn’t have told her friends.

Sadness overwhelmed me, and I hoped her doctor felt guilty now. With privacy laws what they were, would he be able to tell the police about her stalker? I knew he’d have to tell if it were someone else in danger from her, but what about when she’s the victim?

Like so many of our clues lately, this really only made more questions than it answered. The guilt she felt was clearly immense, but why? What could she have done? As a child, even? Something so bad that she’d bury it for years and apparently catch the ire of a vigilante hiding behind the mask of a legend?

When Jake asked me that same thing, he sounded so sad and vulnerable that my heart broke for him. I didn’t know how they knew each other, or what he felt for her, but it was clear that this investigation was hurting him. I wanted to tell him everything was okay, but he’d never believe me, and he didn’t seem like one who appreciated empty reassurances.

I was trying to cheer him up a bit with my teasing, and his sudden confession caught me off guard. I stared at my phone in shock, he’d never been this open with me, ever. Hearing that he thought about me even when I wasn’t pestering him felt better than anything I’d had in a long time. But the crash, as always, came soon after and the whiplash made me tremble.

When he logged off, fury temporarily flooded the sadness and made me want to scream. How dare he? How dare he tell me all of these things, reject me, and then just run away and hide? What the hell was I supposed to do with that? Was I meant to just soldier on, helping him find his friend and quietly fuck off after it was over?

Was that what they all expected of me?

I locked my phone more violently than was probably necessary, but I couldn’t stand to look at it for a minute longer.

It felt wrong in my hand, so I chucked it onto the couch. The device bounced harmlessly from the cushion to the carpet and I found myself almost regretting it didn’t break.

I stared at the wall for too long before crawling into bed on my side and wrapping my arms around my knees. I thought I’d cry, I wanted to even, but no tears came.

Once, when I was a kid, I lost my footing in the ocean while I was at the beach with my parents. I remember it as having happened in slow-motion stages, with first the wave smacking me in the face hard enough that it stung. Next came the part where my feet slipped out from under me, it made me dizzy and disoriented and made it so I didn’t even notice that without my legs keeping me anchored, I was being pushed and pulled along into the deeper water where the bottom would be out of reach even if I found a way to right myself.

By the time I was able to brace myself enough to open my eyes in the salty water, I couldn’t find which way was up anymore. I was weightless, lost. It was almost peaceful other than the knowledge that my air was running out and that peace would soon give way to the need to take in lungfuls of water in search of air. Even that young, I knew it would hurt. But as I hung there, suspended in the dark, there was nothing.

This time, the water was Hannah and her life and her secrets. Her friend group I’d slipped into like I was holding her place for her. And as I closed my eyes to block out the world, I wondered if someone would save me again, or if I’d be forever drifting through someone else’s story. ____

When the morning came, I could barely bring myself to get out of bed. My mouth was dry, and I must have cried at some point because I could feel the slightly tight residue of tear tracks on my cheeks, and the pounding headache from dehydration. I could have gotten up to deal with it— should have even. But instead I rolled back over and forced myself to drift off again. ___

“You are alive, right?”

Annie’s voice at the doorway startled me awake. She either hadn’t knocked or it hadn’t woken me, but it took a second to process her standing there. The whole time we’d lived together, we’d had a firm policy around our bedrooms being sacred, and if the door was closed, it meant we didn’t want to be bothered. Period. She must be really worried.

“For now,” I groaned, rolling away from her.

“Have you come out at all? Your door’s been closed since before I even went out last night.”

Without my glasses or phone, I couldn’t see the clock, and I’d invested in heavy blackout curtains and hung them close to the window to keep any light out. “What time is it?”

“Seven.”

Jesus, it was Sunday, why was she bothering me? Neither of us were religious, and she normally stayed out till two or three. Sure she functioned on less sleep that I did, but that was ridiculous.

“Go away, I can’t wake up before ten on the weekends.” I waved my hand at her to try to shoo her away, covering my face with my pillow.

“PM, honey.” Her voice was soft in a way I’d never heard it before, and I jolted with surprise.

“I slept for an entire day?” I guess that could explain why I felt like I’d been hit by a truck, and one filled with salt at that. I had no real sleep rhythm, and if I didn’t set an alarm I could easily sleep for 12 hours or more at a time. But 24 was a new record. Probably not one I should brag about, though.

“I guess so. What’s going on?” She came into my room and sat at the edge of my bed uncomfortably. For all of our teasing and provoking, we weren’t actually that close. We’d never had an actual serious conversation that wasn’t about apartment ground rules.

Maybe that’s why her question broke the dam.

I started sobbing, wrapping my arms around myself like I was afraid I’d come apart if something didn’t hold me together. She looked startled at first, blinking in surprise, but then started rubbing my back and murmuring to me.

I didn’t say anything, and she didn’t ask again, just letting me cry it out. I’m not sure how my body had any fluids to make tears by that point, but it managed, and even found some snot to make it a good, ugly cry.

When I started quieting, Annie brought me some tea and toast, filling up my water bottle for me. She coaxed me into eating most of the toast, though the tea was cold by the time I finished. The water I gulped down greedily, and felt slightly more human when I collapsed back onto the bed. Even that little bit had me exhausted.

“Do you want to talk?”

I shook my head without lifting it from the pillow. To feel a little less ungrateful, I muttered a small “sorry” even though I wasn’t sure which part I was apologizing for.

She seemed to understand what I didn’t because she pointed to my phone that she’d brought and plugged in at some point when I wasn’t looking. “If you change your mind or need anything,” she said simply, then turned the light back out and closed my door.

I called off the next day, wanting to let myself nope for a little longer. I felt so pathetic, losing it like this over a guy, but deep down I knew that it was only the tip of the iceberg.

This had been building for weeks now, maybe even since the first message from Thomas. And the message I got from Richy the second I went online reminded me that it wasn’t over yet. ___

I watched the newest call from the MWAF numbly, not even sure why I’d bothered to pick up. I knew the only reason I wasn’t afraid was the dissociation, but couldn’t bring myself to care. It had been a while since I’d detached this fully, and it felt good not to feel, so I leaned in.

I didn’t bother to tell Jake about the call. He’d see it, or he wouldn’t. He’d care or he wouldn’t. It really didn’t matter.

Even Lilly’s video took me several views to care about. And there wasn’t anger, fear, or shock. Just a general sense of annoyance.

Fucking great.

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