#i will not have the same patience for the others

[mimpinightmare]

MORE OF THEM!!! MUST HAVE MORE OF THEM!!!!

✨💛💜💛💜💛💜💛✨

More Grouptale/Seventale stuff

[moonstruckme]

hi maeeee!! can i request a poly! marauders where maybe reader is fighting with only one them and the others are shocked when they find out and try their very best to fix it even though things are quite tense? thanks maeeeee ilyyyy💐💐💐

Thanks for your patience with this one angel! It's not as angsty as I planned when I started writing it, but I hope you enjoy it <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.8k words

It’s James who finds you this time. You’re curled up in a corner of the couch, pretending to read whilst secretly feeling sorry for yourself. Your boyfriend sits next to you, touching your shoulder so that you turn to him for a kiss. 

“Still upset?” he asks after a peck. 

You ignore the complicated, knotty feeling that makes itself known in your chest. “Not at you.” 

“No, I know.” James smiles a little, gifting you another kiss. “I’d be coming in here with my tail between my legs if you were. I’d hate to be on the wrong side of either you or Rem’s wrath.” 

You stay quiet. You wouldn’t go so far as to call what you’re feeling wrath—that seems a tad dramatic to describe the low flame of vexation you’ve been burning for your tallest boyfriend—but you don’t feel like opening yourself up to the subject with James. You’ve already heard it from Sirius this morning. 

“Angel.” James gives your shoulder a cajoling squeeze. “Come on, when are the two of you going to get past this? It’s very awkward sleeping in the same bed with two people who are quarreling, you know.” 

“We sleep exactly the same as every other night.” 

“There’s underlying tension,” he counters lightly. You roll your eyes, and James laughs. “Oi, don’t get cross with me now, too. I’m just telling you about my lived experience.” He leans his head on your shoulder, all sweetness and treachery. “You’re really not gonna forgive him? You know he’s gonna stick you with Sirius in the divorce.” 

You huff a laugh. James grins up at you hopefully. You know there’s some sense to what he’s saying; one of you has to be the bigger person eventually. It had started small, a stupid disagreement, but you and Remus are each stubborn and petty enough to not want to admit where you were wrong. Now you’re more angry with him for being angry with you than for anything else. 

When you think of his coldness to you—never mind the fact that you’ve been cold to him in turn—that flame of vexation burns a little brighter. 

“I don’t know why you’re over here trying to convince me,” you tell James. “I won’t have any problem forgiving him if he actually apologizes.” 

James sighs. You look down at your book to avoid his disappointment. 

“Okay, then. But he does feel really bad, so you know. He’s in the bedroom with one of his headaches, and he asked if you were still upset with him.” You look up. James levels you with a weighted look. “Could probably really use a cuddle, if you two were on good terms.” 

James is at least only somewhat smug when you abandon your book to go to the bedroom. You pass Sirius in the hall, who gives you a smile and a firm peck on the lips, likely having just left Remus himself. You enter the bedroom expecting to see the curtains drawn, lights off, and your poorly boyfriend in bed, but instead Remus is standing, well lit by the daylight streaming in through the windows, book tented on the bed still made from this morning. He appears as though he was just on his way out. 

“Erm, hi,” he says, brows pulled together in the middle. He looks to be studying you. “Are you alright?” 

“Fine,” you answer, bemused. “Are…are you?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

The door clicks shut behind you. You startle at the sound, not having closed it yourself. Then, you watch as a resigned sort of irritation comes over Remus’ features at the same time as it settles into you. 

“Pricks.” He moves past you to the door, jiggling the handle. “It only locks from the inside, you twats.” 

“Love you too,” comes Sirius’ voice. “You can come out after you kiss and make up.” 

“And say you’re sorry!” adds James. 

Remus scowls. 

“Open it,” you tell him. 

“What do you think I’m trying to do? One of them is holding it shut.” 

“Let me try.” 

“Be my guest.” Remus steps back, letting you have a go at the handle. By putting everything you have into it you manage to twist it, but you can’t get it open even an inch. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, gorgeous.” Sirius sounds smug enough to make your face feel hot. “James is holding it on the other side here, a few more minutes and you’ll make him break a sweat.” 

You let go of the handle with a huff, turning and stalking towards the bedroom window. You start moving the desk out of your way. 

“Would you really rather climb out the window than be in a room with me?” asks Remus. You look over your shoulder, and he’s sitting on the bed, side-eyeing you with his back propped against the pillows. 

“It’s not about you.” You shove your hip into the desk, budging it enough for you to get at the window latch. “They lied and made me feel all guilty just so they could lock us in here.” 

“What’d they tell you?”

You try to get your fingernail behind the latch. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Sirius had me thinking you were quite upset.” 

“Yeah, and probably that I was asking after you, right? James told me you had a bad headache.” 

A chuckle. “That was enough to make you come in here looking so flustered?” 

“My mistake,” you huff, but it turns to a short whimper when your nail breaks. “Christ, you’d think they’d make these easier to open. What if there was a fire?” 

“Don’t go out the window,” Remus says calmly. “You’ll ruin your tights.” 

You work another nail behind the latch. “I can’t just let them win.” 

“Mm. That’s a bit of a problem for you, is it?” 

A bitter coolness settles over you. You turn, crossing your arms. “Something to say?” 

Remus picks up his book, cornering a page. “Just making an observation, is all.” 

“Remus,” you say sternly. “Don’t act like you’re any better. You could’ve apologized at any time.” 

Your boyfriend levels you with a look. “Would that really have made a difference?”

“Yes!” 

“Honestly?” He looks like he doesn’t believe you. “All I have to do is say I’m sorry, and you’ll forget about all of this and be completely happy with me?” 

You shake your head, bewildered. “…Yeah. I mean, I would want to know that you understood how you hurt my feelings, but yeah. Really, it’s not that complicated.” 

Remus’ expression softens. “I do understand that, dove. Do you understand how you hurt mine?” 

“I…” You find you can’t quite look at him. “I imagine it’s sort of similar. Because I’ve been cold to you.” 

“And because you wouldn’t hear me out,” he says. It doesn’t sound like I told you so, not smug so much as gentle. “But it was a small thing to begin with, wasn’t it? I’m ready to be past it.” 

You frown at him. “It’s not about the argument for me. I’m already past that, it’s just everything else.” 

Remus considers you. “Would you come here, please?” 

You swear you wouldn’t go if he didn’t sound so kind. But you find yourself with your legs curled underneath you on the bed in front of him, Remus coaxing your hands into his. 

“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings,” he says sincerely, looking you in the eyes. “It was a silly argument, and I shouldn’t have been so stubborn.” 

You chew the inside of your cheek, sizing up whether he means it. “I…also could have been less stubborn,” you admit begrudgingly. Your tone softens. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, too. I didn’t mean to.” 

“I know, sweetheart.” Remus’ touch coasts from your hands up your arms as he pulls you closer to kiss your forehead. “Are we okay?” 

“Yeah,” you say, mollified. 

He smiles at you. “Hear that?” he says towards the door. “You can let us out now.” 

There’s no response. 

Remus frowns as you get out of bed, going to try the handle. The door comes open, revealing and empty hallway. 

“Pricks,” Remus mutters. 

You find your boyfriends in the living room, James flicking through channels on the telly while Sirius reads the back cover of your book. James notices you first. 

“Oh, hello.” He grins at you as Sirius looks over. “All sorted, then?” 

You’re half tempted to pretend you didn’t make up just to spite them. When you look over at Remus, you suspect he’s thinking the same thing. 

“That was sort of mean, lying to me like that,” you say to James instead. 

He looks a bit contrite, but Sirius says insouciantly, “You were never gonna do it by yourselves, babe. We weren’t ready to start divvying up the furniture because you wanted to have a row.” 

You kiss your teeth. “I think I might be having a row with you now.” 

“What, us?” James’ eyebrows rise above the frames of his glasses. “What for?” 

“You lied to us both to make us feel bad,” Remus reminds him, “and then locked us in the bedroom.” 

Sirius isn’t impressed. “Well, it wasn’t really locked, was it. If you’d gotten desperate, you could’ve taken it off the hinges. Or just checked again after a couple minutes.” 

“She broke her nail trying to get the window open.” 

You hold up your torn fingernail as proof. Sirius coos, reaching for your finger and bringing it to his lips while you scowl at him. 

“Sorry, lovie. We had a plan to bring you food in a couple hours,” says James. “We were even going to let you out for bathroom breaks if you needed to go.” 

“Really, you wrapped it up much quicker than we were expecting,” Sirius praises. He’s still holding your finger, drawing his thumb up and down the side in easy, consoling strokes. “We thought you’d ice each other out until supper at least. I’m quite proud of you.” 

Remus scoffs. 

“Oh, come now.” Sirius grins. “Give us a kiss.” 

You roll your eyes but turn to Remus, extricating your finger from Sirius’ grasp to meet him in a chaste kiss. 

The other boys cheer. “There we are!” James tilts his face up expectantly. “Now one for me.” 

You and Remus exchange a look. 

“No,” you say coolly, “I don’t think so.” The two of you go to sit on the far side of the couch, away from both Sirius and James with you curled against Remus’ side. He looks a tad smug as he puts his arm around you. 

“Oi!” says Sirius. “Look what you’ve done, you’ve made James pull his sad puppy face. What do you have to say for yourselves?” 

“You lied to us,” you say again, slowly, with emphasis, “and locked us in the bedroom.” 

Sirius scoffs. “So dramatic.” 

“Oh, that’s rich.” 

“Will it help if we say sorry?” James asks meekly. 

Remus looks at you. You shrug. 

“Maybe,” he says. “You’re more than welcome to try and find out.”

[novvabee]

Hi,

Could you do a romantic poly!marauder (without peter) x reader where they are in a established relationship and maybe James (I just imagine it coming for him) having baby fever and dropping hint at it to make the others want to a start a family ?

omg! I totally can see James wanting a family like straight away, but the others are kind of hesitant. Hope this fits your vision ❤️

Oh baby, baby fever

summary: james wants a baby

cw: suggestive? talk about starting a family

James had been more needy and cuddly in the past couple of days. He was holding you closer, tighter to his chest in the mornings, being incredibly sweet. And this is James we’re talking about. He normally treated you like royalty, but he had somehow stepped it up after spending the day at work with you.

You had been a nanny for a family for about a year now, and you were loving the job. The family was so kind and generous, and they often felt like an extension of your own family. The children were no different. They were the sweetest kids with the most patience and understanding that you had ever seen in a child. There was a boy, Liam, who was 5, and a little girl named Ruth, 4. They were the reason you loved your job, getting to see them and care for them was the best job you could have ever asked for.

Two days ago, you had planned a trip to the zoo for the two, and were so excited to spend the whole day with them. James, who had the day off, offered to come with. He argued that it would be better to have two adult sets of eyes to watch over the children, safer, and you agreed. You didn’t know how the children would take it at first, him being a stranger, but just like everyone else seemed to, they took to him instantly.

Liam was so happy to have a boy to rough around with (though james was about 3 and a half feet teller and much, much stronger) and Ruth seemed to develop a bit of a crush, having James tie her pink sparkly shoes, hold his hand to cross the street, listen to her jokes and animal facts she had learned, and hold her favorite stuffed animal when she got tired of holding it herself.

James never once complained. He played and laughed with the kids, he carried both, one in each arm, whenever they asked, he bought them each a toy from the gift shop with his own money when they asked. He was doing amazing.

There was a different side to James that you saw. You were used to the kindness and warmth of him, but this was different. He was so gentle with them, it came so easy to him. You noted the moments he would get down to their level to hear them properly, to make sure they felt heard even though they were mostly talking nonsense or silly kid things. He lifted them up to see the animals without them having to ask, he just knew they wouldn’t be about to see over the fence. He made sure they had water and snacks whenever they wanted them.

It took a lot of pressure and stress off of you, put some ideas into your head… you thought that he would make a great dad.

And it seems, James had the same thoughts. The next day he dropped his first hint. All four of you and your boys were lounging about on the couch and watching movies. The day was quite glum out and you all wanted to curl up and use each other for warmth. You were curled into Remus’s side, James laying on you, his head on your chest and body between your legs, Sirius’s head in Remus’s lap. You were a big puddle of happiness. While watching a particularly boring part of the movie, James began running his hands along your sides, under your shirt. You didn’t mind, his hands were always so warm and soft. It gave you goosebumps in the best way. He moved his hands from your sides to your stomach, right under your belly button. He was dragging his fingers along your bare skin before looking at your stomach and kissing it. He laid his head back down and watched the move like nothing, continuing to rub your sides, but you knew what he was after. You knew what he was thinking and why. 

The next hint was dropped while you were all in the kitchen. Remus finishing cooking dinner for you, and the three of you waiting patiently at the table. You had somehow stumbled into the conversation of which teachers you had crushes on when you were younger. 

“Oh come on, Minnie had that authoritative thing going for her.” Sirius confidently announced over the noise of the kitchen.

“McGonagall? Sirius, what is wrong with you?” Remus looked over from the stove, baffled. You giggled and went to stick up for Sirius.

“I don't know,” you joked “She had sort of a milf vibe don't you think?”

The boys all laughed. James replied with a smirk from across the table“You’d know all about that Y/N, wouldn’t you?”

You tilted your head at him and furrowed your brows but chuckled “What do you mean Jamesie?”

“I just mean,” he starts, Remus serving you and Sirius both plates, “It takes one to know one.”

You all started laughing heartily at his comment.

“James mate, I think she’s lacking the main component for that.” Sirius teased.

“What do you mean?” James asked.

“She's not a mother.” 

“She could be,” James said slyly, a smirk cutting across his face.

“Woah woah” Remus said at the same time Sirius laughed a “What are you planning Potter?” you just laughed, you knew exactly what he was getting at. You were letting him have his fun before the seriousness sets in, before that very real, very important discussion happens. 

The next hint was dropped during game night. You had all decided to play a few games like Overcooked and Mario Party. It was quite a fun night full of swearing and playful anger. It was a good outlet to yell at each other without it being serious or mean in any way. A great way to let out all of your competitive energy. You were playing a round of Mario Party and losing, bad. Every mini game the boys seemed to team up on you. “Fuck me!” you let out.

James took this as his sign to slide in behind you and wrap his arms around you “You know that can be arranged, love.” he drawled, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. 

Remus and Sirius shared a look. “What’s gotten into him?” Sirius asked.

“He wants to have a baby.” you explained. You weren’t sure how the other boys hadn’t picked up on it. It wasn’t exactly something that  you had all talked about yet, you just liked being together, the four of you, having fun and sharing a life with each other. You weren't sure about… a baby. 

The whole room turned attention to James, who seemed to have turned shy. “I just-,” he started, “I think that… Y/N would make a wonderful mother, and I think I would be a pretty good dad? And I love children, I want one. I’m not saying, I mean, I-I don’t know…” He finished, unconfident and a little deterred.

You sighed, sitting up and readjusting to sit in his lap, facing him. “Jamie baby,” You said, taking his face in your hands, “look, you would be an amazing dad, the best dad in the world. But honey, I don’t think we are all ready for that right now.” you looked over to Sirius and Remus for agreement, they nodded and encouraged you to keep going. “James, we’re still really young. And I know you had a lot of fun with the kids I nanny, but that is different. Those are someone else's kids. Kids that we can have fun with and do fun things with them and then send them on their way back home where they scream and cry and throw tantrums. They aren’t always so perfect. And you’ve never had to change their diapers or deal with them when they're sick and when they are inconsolable. It was fun, but there is a whole other side to parenting, a hard and serious one.” Sirius opened his mouth to make a comment at that but Remus nudged him in the ribs and shook his head. “So baby, I am not saying no. But I am saying not right now. Is that understandable?” you asked.

James looked at you and nodded, you could tell he knew it wasn't the right time, but deep down that is something he wants. You kissed his cheek to try and cheer him up a bit, you know he would need a little bit to be sad, but that he would inevitably come around.

Remus, noticing that James was still upset, came up with a proposition. “How about we work our way up? We start small and then see where we are after. What if we get a cat or a dog?” He suggests.

Sirius squinted his eyes and said “How about a plant?”

James chuckled, the sound making your heart feel less heavy. “I would like a cat…”

“Damnit” Sirius said under his breath.

[verycoolusername1]

Heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another

Summary: Luke meets your parents, which leads to taking a huge step in your relationship.

Track 2 of short n' sweet - please, please, please

Luke Hughes x gn!reader

Warning! Mentions of a embarrassing childhood story(that I have made up((it isn't that bad) 😔)

A/N: I have never been more tired but man is Hotch(from criminal minds) so damn fine in the earlier seasons- I miss him more every single day.

And I gave your parents names to help me keep track of them... guys say hi to Bobby and Athena(definitely wasn't taken from a certain fox/abc show about first responders whatsoever)!!

You fixed your hair for what felt like the tenth time in the past five minutes. Luke groaned quietly besides you, wanting to do nothing more than to hold you.

Yours and Luke's relationship was fairly new, only ten months in, and you decided it was time for him to meet your parents.

"Are you done now?" Luke asked the question for the 3rd time.

You sighed. "Yes, I'm just nervous. Everything needs to be perfect."

Your parents were coming in to visit you since Luke and the team were staying home a couple of days.

"Everything is going to be perfect, no need to stress." He kissed the crown of your head.

"Well, I'm sorry for wanting my parents to like you." You joked, but it did nothing to ease your nerves.

The doorbell rings, scaring the two of you.

"Shit," you cursed. "They're here." You grabbed Luke's hand and took him to the living room but not before fixing his shirt and hair.

"My hair is fine, baby stop it." Luke swats your hand away.

"No, it's not," You continued to fix it before the doorbell rang again, and you sighed in frustration. "Don't touch it."

Luke rolls his eyes. "Aye aye captain."

You walked up to the door and were greeted by your parents.

"Oh Y/N there you are." Your mother smiled warmly at you.

"I was beginning to think we were at the wrong place." Your dad joked.

"Just had to fix stuff up is all." You said, but you didn't miss your mom's glance. "Not like that, mom!"

Your mom only chuckled in response, moving past you. "Now, where's this boy you keep talking about?"

"He has a name." You told her.

"Which is?" Your dad snickered at your mom's patience.

"Luke." He appeared from the bedroom. "Luke Hughes. It's a pleasure to meet you both, Mrs. and Mr. Y/L/N."

"Oh please, sweetie, call me Athena." Your mom looked at him warmly.

Your dad shook his hand. "Bobby is fine. No need to be formal son."

While they shook hands, your mom whispered to you. "He sure is tall."

"Yeah I know, you should see his brothers." You told her.

Your mother's eyes widened. "There's more??"

"Just two mom, both older." You answered.

"So tell me about yourself, Luke, Y/N was just telling me you had two brothers." Athena spoke.

The four of you guys recently moved to the kitchen as you got the plates.

"Uh yeah, two older brothers, Quinn and Jack. We actually live with Jack, Y/N cause I asked and me and Jack work together. He makes appearances here and there mostly to tease us."

"Yeah, siblings tend to do that." Bobby chuckles.

"You said you and Jack work together? What do you guys do?" Athena asked.

"Oh uh actually me and my brothers play hockey, professionally." He answered.

"So your other brother Quinn isn't on the same team with you two." Bobby put the pieces together.

"Yeah, don't get to see him much during the season, but during the summer, we hang out all the time." Luke adds.

You came back with plates, clearly struggling. Something that Luke had noticed.

"Hey baby, cmon, let me." He took two of the plates away from you and served your parents.

Your parents observed the scene with a silent conversation between eyes.

"I was doing fine, Luke." You sighed.

"You were totally going to drop the plates. You don't have to do things by yourself. You can always ask Jack and I to help, I tell you that all the time." Luke mumbles.

"Y/N was always known for being stubborn. It'll take them a while to finally let you help." Bobby reassuranced Luke.

"Yeah, like once when they were younger, they were so sure they were going to be a lawyer." Athena says an example. "But refused to ask for any advice from their aunt who was a district attorney, said they wanted to do it by themselves and didn't need help from anyone."

"Sounds like Y/N, alright." Luke chuckles but quickly stops when he sees your glare.

You noticed your parents seem to be welcoming Luke in with open arms, which was a shock, considering the last time you brought your ex home, they were furious. But then again, you were also a teenager. Now you're an adult.

Your dad seemed to catch the interaction between the two of you and laughed. "Don't be mean to your boyfriend Y/N." He scolds playfully.

"I wasn't being mean just warning him is all." You smiled innocently.

Now your mother started laughing. "We certainly raised them well."

"Yeah, no, we did." Bobby chuckles alongside his wife.

The four of you ate the meal with laughter and jokes till it was time for your parents to leave.

Your dad talking with Luke before pulling him into a hug, your mom pulled you to the side.

"He's good for you, Y/N." She said, you nodded.

"I know." You smiled softly.

"Don't let him slip through your fingers honey." She hugged you. "And let him help you from time to time." She winked.

You groaned. "I thought we was over that."

"Oh please we'll never get over that sweetie." She kissed you on the cheek. "We'll text you when we get back, love you."

"Love you guys, too." And with that, you shut the door.

"That went better than expected." Luke says beside you.

"If your definition of better is disaster. Just promise me one thing, baby?" You looked at him.

"Anything." He hummed.

You looked at him sternly. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid... like ever in front of me, or I will break up with you."

Luke chuckles. "Noted."

[unhinged-transmasc-man]

A lot of y'all treat the "revolution" like the Rapture. You have no interest in progress, you simply like your elite little club where you can feel morally virtuous. You can say you're an "anarchist communist transfem abolitionist radical [insert more buzzwords here]" or whatever all you want, and it doesn't mean shit when you refuse to wear a mask on public transportation, and are disgusting to everyone around you, including and especially other queer people. Saying you've left oppressive Christianity doesn't mean shit when you act exactly the same but with leftism. You aren't a leftist, you have no compassion for other people, you have no real goals, and you suck as a person.

The one thing we can learn from the Right is that they always have a goal in mind. They don't eat each other, they take whoever they can get and keep pushing until they have their fascism. And they have it! We need to beat them at their own game, which means you people need to start caring about other people and about something other than your performative virtue-signaling activism.

And a general PSA? Listen to trans men. I have no patience for anyone who willfully participates in harming us, especially after this election.

The left SUCKS at recruiting people. And so many of you are part of the problem.

The talk about centrists and moderates being the literal devil I see constantly in online leftist spaces is one great example of the left's failure. Yes, it sucks when the people don't see how horrible the right is. But centrists are some of the most open people to discussion- and some already lean left!!

You can't demonize moderates to such an extent that you close yourself off to them and then wonder why you're losing swing states.

Centrists aren't even always people with all the privileges- you will find plenty of people who are part of marginalized groups who are concerned about politicians on all sides.

You can be a smol radical leftist bean all you want who only talks to other smol socialist and communist beans, but you're never going to make the difference you want to in the world that way. It's the cold, hard truth. It doesn't mean you have to engage in discourse with everyone- some people have no real hope of changing and are emotionally draining- just more than your bubble.

I am tired of the left eating itself alive and deranged people like Trump winning.

[meanbossart]

Ask compilation: DU drow, Orin, Astarion, lore things and little fun facts.

Trying to make a dent in this dang inbox. As always, thank you so much everyone for your patience and curiosity! Sorry that it is straight up no longer possible for me to reply to everyone, but I will keep doing my best within reason. Enjoy!

Absolutely! I had a lot of requests for bottom Astarion on my patreon which is why I was kind of on a roll there for a minute.

Though, for the record - I am really not very invested in strict bedroom roles at all. Or clear and distinct dominant/submissive dynamics. So please don't overthink it whenever there's a switch, no pun intended.

You wanna know how often they smash? Man, I don't know, I guess fairly often considering their lifestyle post-game (very active, often on the road).

Assuming that everyone agrees that sex doesn't have to involve penetration, I'd say once every other day or less, really depends on the circumstances though. DU drow's libido is much higher than Astarion's, but he's not an animal and can hold off fine. Astarion is likely to be pickier in regards to location and how-recently-have-we-bathed status as well.

I keep meaning to draw him, but I have like... A million things I want to do 😂 so its rough!

BUT you will at least continue to see him in ANE! And I'm sure i'm bound to draw him again in the future.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT]

If you mean in his bhaalist "AU", where he has the red robe and the extra scars, I imagine he would have gotten it through killing Isobel.

I think as a changeling she probably has the ability to just... Transform her hair however she likes at will, right? And based on her attitude plus some lines we get from Sceleritas about her own former-butler, it sounds like she would be really opposed to being serviced in that way, to me at least.

I see her as pretty aggressively independent with the way she operates, which is another factor that sets her apart from DU drow, who really enjoyed lording over the other Bhaalists and making an errand boy out of Sceleritas, to the point where he practically depended on their help to function.

Neither! I wasn't willing to let anyone take either of my eyes in my first playthrough, LOL.

I have since always given the Volo eye to SOMEONE, usually Gale, but I don't consider that canonical. I don't think anyone was desperate enough to let mister frumpy-hat over there ice-pick their eyes out.

He did do them himself. It was a profoundly stupid display he got caught up in because of Gortash. Also, de-handment is kind of a theme in his life, at least inside his head.

I have a comic about it planned for the future ;)

What do you mean, that's canonical to the game and everything! He loves the cuck chair!

He is an angsty 29-year old in denial. Your interpretation is still perfectly accurate.

Hates the guy. Hates when Shadowheart Astarion people joke about him being the Drizzt of his generation. Hates the guy like literally any countercultural weirdo hates Taylor Swift or the Weeknd. If he saw him at the line in the grocery store DU drow would find a way to roll his eyes loudly just so he could notice being an asshole.

Stay tuned, I'm cooking 🧑‍🍳

If you're asking about game strats, badly, LOL. Pretty sure I died twice to her in my first run and it was a rough way of being thrown into "serious" DnD combat.

With the exception of a couple of encounters that just so happened to turn out SURPRISINGLY cinematic, I'm just realizing that I actually don't think too often about how most of the fights went in real-time! I imagine Autie Ethel's in particular wasn't one that DU drow went into of his own accord, probably rather at a companion's insistence. That's as deep as I've thought about that personally.

Now... Back to game strats. I personally try to get a surprise round on her however I can by sneaking and shooting an arrow or AOE in her general location, since she always stands on roughly the same spot while invisible. I have my companions spread about the arena so we can take her clones down as fast as possible, and as soon as I identify who the real Ethel is I just have the strongest martial characters wail on her until she begs to be let go. Hers is one of the few fights that is actually pretty dang easy at this point for me - and I SUCK at this game.

That would certainly take a while! But, Bhaalist DU drow does kind of have an end goal, actually.

That might also turn into a comic eventually, but it would a rough one.

He pretty swiftly disposed of her, DU drow doesn't like being talked down to, which Minthara very promptly does. Him (and I, by extension) had very limited exposure to her and she was just kind of a speck of dust in his story in particular. Though I have since grown to adore her character in my proceeding runs where I do recruit her!

I guess if he got an invitation and it wasn't particularly painful to arrive at the venue, sure! He would specially love to take Astarion to Gale's wedding ceremony and purposely upstage him at every at every opportunity, LOL.

Yes. He got pretty freaky with the pain-priest. This is gonna sound like a lie but I made him get naked for it without even knowing there was a buff to be gained (I didn't get it, unfortunately, I don't remember whether I failed a check or if I had camp clothes toggled on, so it didn't count as being truly nude). I wasn't taking the game very seriously and just doing dumb roleplay things to see what would happen, LOL.

And I consider that canonical. I think DU drow saw the opportunity to show off his physique And had a strange inkling that this was a practice he was... Somehow familiar with.

Imagine my joy when Astarion and Shadowheart start having a back-and-forth about my absurd display. That's when i knew those were my people, to be honest.

[stllmnstr]

breathing room

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Lee Heeseung is having a hard time breathing. 

Partly because he’s pretty sure he just got the wind knocked out of him. A little bit because of the year-old rib injury he had neither the time nor patience to let heal completely. 

And mostly because there’s a blade being held to his throat. 

Yours, to be exact. 

It’s a nice one, all things considered. Despite its lethality, it’s small, delicate almost. From this angle, he can just make out the detailing on the hilt. A series of vines wrap around each other intricately, forming kaleidoscopic patterns that extend all the way from the blade to where your fingers are wrapped around the hilt, knuckles white from the way your hand is straining. 

Jesus, he thinks. If it takes that much concentrated effort for you to not let the knife press any harder against his skin, draw any blood, then maybe he should start taking the threats you throw his way like extra change a little more seriously. 

Lazily, he lets his eyes trace a line from your fingers to your face. Skipping over the rather boring details of the plain black training shirt you wear, he directs his attention to the way your brow furrows in concentration instead. 

Under usual circumstances, a knife to the throat would encourage all of his senses to narrow in on the sensation of metal against his pulse point. Would spur his brain to work a bit faster through all the biological fight or flight mechanisms in a last ditch attempt at survival. 

But these are not usual circumstances. In fact, ever since the two of you were split into separate training cohorts a handful of months ago, this has become a rarity. And the only thing Heeseung wants to do is enjoy it a little more. 

Without his self-preservation instincts kicking in, his brain has plenty of room for other things. The forgiving surface of a training mat beneath him, slightly soft where he lets his body relax into it. The unusually warm air of the training room, courtesy of a busted air conditioner that no one has gotten around to fixing just yet. 

The way your hair falls around your face as you lean over him, chest still heaving from your recent bout of exertion. Your eyes are pure fire, embers and ashes and every stage in between as you sit atop his ribcage, knees on either side of his torso where you pin him to the mat. 

But even as the lead trainer adds another tally underneath your name for another sparring match won, your gaze doesn’t soften. Doesn’t brighten in the afterglow of victory. After all, victory only tastes sweet when it’s earned. Judging by the way your lips twist above him, Heeseung thinks the victory he just handed you on a silver platter must be horribly bitter. 

Slowly, he raises his hands in mock surrender. There’s a half smile that looks a little too much like a smirk tugging at his lips when he says, “I concede.”

“No fucking shit.” You flick a strand of hair out of your face. Your knife presses a little tighter against his throat. “Did you even try?”

Heeseung maintains eye contact. “I think I’m doing us a both a favor by not answering that one.”

Narrowing your eyes, annoyance makes itself the most prominent of your visible emotions. “Interesting choice of words from someone with a knife to his throat.”

Heeseung all but rolls his eyes. “What are you gonna do? Kill me in front of everyone?” The way he wraps sarcasm up in every syllable is almost as infuriating as the way he just let you win without putting up any semblance of a fight. “You’ve got a mean streak, princess, but that’s a bit much, even for you.”

The pressure on your blade increases, and Heeseung fights a wince as he feels it break the barrier between his skin and blood. It’s a miniscule cut, surface level at most, but he hears the threat all the same. “It’s like you want to die,” you marvel. 

Heeseung’s eyes betray nothing, other than the fact that they can’t quite seem to stray from your own. Does he? No matter how deep inside himself he searches, the answer is always a resounding no. Despite the effort he put into this particular spar, or rather lack thereof, his survival instincts are still kicking. His pursuit of life is still alive and well. 

So no, he doesn’t want to die. Quite the opposite in fact. But if he were to explain in plain terms that he never feels quite as alive as he does in the moments when you’ve got a knife on his throat and hatred in your eyes, he has the distinct feeling you might well and truly make good on your frequent promise to send him to an early grave. 

And it’s not like he means to do it, not really. Heeseung might be a glutton for punishment these days, but there was a time when he tried to get your attention in all the regular ways. As he quickly found out, sweet words did nothing but make you roll your eyes and his skills on a sparring mat were only as impressive as they could be used to hone your own. 

He was a tool, in your eyes. A means to an end as you did your best to work your way up the ranks. 

You never looked at him, the person behind all the hand-to-hand combat training and advanced levels of weapon artistry. At least not until he started annoying the ever-living shit out of you. 

Back then, it had been easy. As new recruits, you were in the same training cohort, which meant you had the same daily schedules. As long as Heeseung had the chance to beat you to the last piece of toast in the dining hall at breakfast or tie the laces of your training boots together the night before an early morning, he was guaranteed at least one of your signature glares and a few choice words that would make his grandmother blush. 

Granted, he knows that one-sided hatred is not a very stable foundation to build anything solid on, but he thinks of it in the same way he thinks of sparring. 

He doesn’t need a knockout. He just needs an in. 

A little bit of breathing room. Something that will have his partner lowering their guard, weakening their defenses just enough for him to strike. Once. Twice. Again. Over and over until the match is won and victory rests on his square shoulders. 

Heeseung’s in this for the long haul, and he’s come to find that he doesn’t really care how many bruises he picks up along the way. 

Across the room, the lead trainer heaves a long sigh. 

“Alright, ___, that’s enough. You’ve earned your tally.” The most of anyone in today’s group. But you’re still glaring at him, and he knows it isn’t enough, not for you. “Heeseung, get it together. I expect better from you next time.”

You scoff. “Don’t hold your breath.” 

Expectations are only met when people are held to them, and you doubt Lee Heeseung has even become acquainted with the concept of a consequence. 

Releasing one final, sharp exhale, you pull your knife away from his throat, tucking it back into the sheath on your upper thigh in one fluid motion. Swinging your leg over his torso, you remove your body from his own, give your anger some space to breathe. Without looking back, you let your strides eat up the distance between you and the exit. 

Someone – you think it must be Jay, or maybe Jungwon, tries to catch your attention on the way out, asking about a maneuver you pulled in the middle of the match. A tricky bit of knife work you’ve been perfecting over the last few weeks. Something that looked stupid as Heeseung did nothing but stand there, as if your blade was nothing but decorative. Made you look stupid as he stood and watched with nothing but a mildly amused expression on his face. 

You hate him for it. Want to show him just how pretty your knife can be stained with the deep crimson he must bleed as surely as anyone else. 

Lips pulled in a taut line, you unsheath the blade at your thigh once again, this time sending it spinning with deadly accuracy towards the line of trees that skirt the outside of the training facility. 

You don’t miss. You never do. 

It still feels like defeat. 

…..

Heeseung notices when you’re not at dinner later that evening. Despite the fact that you no longer train together, the inter-cohort spars have shifted this week's schedule. You should be here, sitting next to Jay and Jungwon, probably, pointedly avoiding his gaze. 

But you’re not. And he can only think of one other place to find you. 

The training hall is dark when he arrives, but Heeseung is no fool. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, but he sees you soon enough. Silhouette dark against the empty expanse, he has half a mind to intervene before you shred yet another punching bag to irreparable pieces. Instead, he just watches for a moment longer. 

He doesn’t know what to do with the feelings that start to simmer, that always linger. Doesn’t know if it’s admiration or longing or something far worse. 

But he wants to. Wants to examine them until he knows them as intimately as the back of his own hand, until he can recite them by name and express them in ways that don’t make you want to press a knife against his neck. 

And he wants to keep watching, keep looking, keep noticing. 

Even from a distance, even in the dark, he can read the frustration in the set of your shoulders, sense the exhaustion in the way your legs move just behind the rest of your body. 

You need a break. 

He needs an in. 

Across the room from you, Heeseung clears his throat. 

Startled, you nearly fall on your ass mid-kick before you turn to the source. It’s dark, but you know it’s him. Who else would it be? 

Chest rising and falling rapidly with exertion, you finally catch your breath well enough to tell him, “If you’re not here for a rematch, then you have exactly ten seconds to get out of this building.”

A beat passes. 

Another. 

Heeseung exhales. “And if I am?”

Bathed in the dying glow of moonlight, you go still. “Then you better put in your best fucking effort.”

Heeseung is across the room before you can release another breath. It’s ridiculous how quickly he disarms you. And you’re caught off guard, yes, but it doesn’t matter, not really. Your knife in his hands, he throws it to the corner of the room. And then it’s just the two of you. 

Heeseung spares neither time nor effort knocking your legs out from under you, sending you careening towards the mat. Screwing your eyes shut, you brace for the impact of a training mat that never comes, the back of your head cradled in a hand that serves as a barrier between you and the ground below. 

It’s a complete reversal of your earlier roles as he lets his legs fall to either side of you, face inches from your own. There’s no knife on your neck, and he was gracious enough to break your fall, but suddenly find your breath a difficult thing to catch regardless. 

Above you, his eyes are dark. Your noses nearly touch. “This is what you wanted?” he breathes, and you feel his words as much as you hear them. They dance across your cheekbone, your lips. Have your bones feeling molten, all your hard edges malleable. “You want me to fight you like I mean it? To really fucking spar with you?”

You’ve rehearsed your answer too long to deviate, even as your mind screams with sudden uncertainties. “Yes.”

Heeseung doesn’t spare it a second thought. “Too bad.”

“Why? You have no problem f–”

“I was there, you know.” Unbidden, the hand that doesn’t hold your head falls to the bottom edge of your black training shirt. Heeseung pauses there for a moment, lets his fingers trace the seam. Something in the air shifts, tightens, waits. Despite the way he has you caged, your hands are unbound. You could stop this, if you wanted to. Stop him. 

You don’t. 

Slowly, his hand begins to track an upward journey, taking your hem with it. The air of the room is warm, choked with summer heat and the odd sensations that simmer just beneath your skin, but you suppress a shiver anyway  as a sliver of skin is revealed. 

You know what he’s after, where his eyes fall to. It’s his fingers that hesitate. Dangle with uncertainty a hair's breadth from the scar that sits just above your hip bone. 

Heeseung inhales, eyes returning to your own for a moment. They’re searching for permission you won’t give and boundaries you won’t set. If he wants to walk this tightrope, he’ll have to navigate on his own. 

It’s a challenge he rises to. On his breath out, Heeseung lets his fingers find a home on the bare skin of your stomach, trace the jagged line that’s a shade paler than the surrounding area. 

It’s a scar you hardly think of, one you can’t believe he remembers. Gifted to you in your early days of training, when a fellow recruit thought the best way to better his ranking was to discard the strict sparring rules set by your superiors and draw blood as a last ditch attempt at victory.

You’d still won, even with a fresh stab wound on your lower abdomen. And he’d been shown the door, like all recruits that break protocol. 

“So what?” Your voice doesn’t come out nearly as biting as you intend it to. You curse the waver in your words. “I get one scar and suddenly I’m delicate?” 

Heeseung glances up, something sincere in his eyes when he matches your gaze. His hand is still on your skin. “We’re all delicate. And we all have the scars to prove it. I’ve just developed a particular… aversion to seeing evidence of it when it comes to you.”

You’re quick to school your features into neutrality. At least on the outside, you won’t give him the satisfaction of catching you off guard. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“Apparently not,” Heeseung counters. “Since I’m not the one begging for a fight.” He holds your gaze when he adds, “And I have to say, princess, if you wanted me to put you on your back, there are much easier ways to ask.”

It’s as if you’ve been burned submerged in hot water, as if you’ve been burned, when you push him off of you with a speed that’s almost comical. And from the way heat rises in your cheeks, you just might have been. 

Your voice is dangerously low when you tell him, “You have three seconds.”

“Until what?” Heeseung knows better than to be hopeful. 

“Until I find my knife and put it to good use.”

Heeseung doesn’t need to be told twice.

[everythingisromant1c]

p2: three reasons why you can't stand co-star!james potter

co-star!james potter x actress!reader

summary: you were finding the first days of shooting your new TV show to be absolutely amazing, aside from the fact that you absolutely could not stand your co-star James Potter. unfortunately for you, you spent enough time around him to narrow down his most irritating qualities to only three:

a/n: hey so this took waayyy longer than i would've hoped to release, but i promise this series is not going anywhere, so tysm for all the loveee and all ur guys' patience <33

also pls pls pls feel free to send in prompt requests for this series i am so all ears

full series: Trouble in Hollywood - masterlist

1. He was insufferably good at his job

You wished you could say working with James Potter was such a challenge because he was simply bad at his job. But the thing was: he wasn't. It turned out he was really the impeccably good actor that your director Minerva seemed to swear he was, as if the talent truly was seeping through his veins. Somehow, that only made working with him more frustrating to you.

"Aaron, you've got to believe me."

James had come to you during the middle of hair and makeup and asked you to rehearse lines with him even before official rehearsals for the day's shooting began, saying it would make him feel more prepared. And, as much as you hated it, you felt the same. Your only regret was thinking you'd be able to stand him and his arrogance before seven in the morning.

"Why should I, Cassidy?"

The brunette responded to you fully in character, leaning back against a nearby vanity with his long legs crossed in front of him as you sat in your cushioned chair. He apparently got out of hair and makeup in under a matter of minutes, looking effortlessly put together with his curls hanging perfectly over his forehead—you didn't have the same luck. Your lovely makeup artist Mary seemed to be unbothered by the interruptions, continuing on with your makeup as you rehearsed your lines, though you caught her amused smile every once in a while from her reflection in the mirror.

"Because..." you began, trying to stay in character as your brain scrambled for your next line.

"You're supposed to say," cut in James, "'-because we can only trust each other right now.'"

"Please stop telling me my lines, James." You repeated the irritated request you'd uttered all morning to him as you put a tired hand to the bridge of your nose, one that Mary moved away hurriedly.

"Watch your makeup," she pleaded with a powder-filled brush to your nose , and you winced apologetically.

"Did you just want me to stand here and wait for you to remember them?" James's voice poked at you irritatingly as you stared up at him from your seat.

"Yes, that's exactly what I want." You fought from rolling your eyes. "You could at least give me a second. I didn't even ask for my line."

He raised his brows with an acquiescent sigh. "Whatever the lady wants."

Ignoring him, a skill you were growing like a muscle, you cleared your throat in focus, trying not to move too much as Mary blended some product on your neck. "Because we can only trust each other right now."

James quickly jumped back into character, right on time. "That didn't mean anything to you the other night."

"I already told you I'm sorry for that. When I heard all the rumors, I ..." you cursed at yourself as your mind drew another painful, embarrassing blank.

"-I didn't know what to think." James looked anything but guilty as his voice met your ears once again, finishing your line for you without fail.

"James!" You glared at him, doing your best to stay out in your chair and not storm out of the trailer he'd so brazenly infiltrated. You shook your head to yourself through your reflection in the brightly lit mirrors . "You're impossible."

James shrugged innocently. "I don't get why you're mad at me for trying to help."

"I'm not."

He scoffed, putting a dramatic hand to his chest. "So is this what you look like when you're happy with me?" The corner of his aggravating lips lifted along with his shoulder in a small shrug, before turning away again. "Isn't very much like how I've pictured it."

You didn't miss the way Mary let out a small breath of laughter from her nose as she switched over to doting on your hair. You gritted your teeth.

"I mean, I'm not mad at you for helping. I'm mad at you because you're annoying."

He crossed his arms defensively, his lips still quirked up, and you fought against the urge within you that had your eyes following the movement of his biceps. "I'm annoying?"

The feigned disbelief in his voice snapped your back to your right mind.

"Yes," you answered plainly. "You and your posh accent."

Maybe you'd stopped making sense, but it was too early for you to care. James was watching your meltdown with what you could only identify as merriment, his unfortunately unignorable presence taking up too much space in the cramped makeup trailer.

Thankfully choosing to ignore the part about his accent, he put up his hands innocently. "Last time I checked, I wasn't the one who keeps forgetting their lines."

"We just got the updated script for this episode last night." You shifted in your chair to face him, and you heard Mary wince from behind you, probably getting fed up with how much you were moving around, though you were too annoyed to stop yourself. "How the hell are you already off-book?"

James shrugged smugly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he leaned forward. You squinted your eyes at him. "An actor never reveals his secrets, love."

You twisted your mouth in disgust at his words—because you definitely felt something as he said them, whether it was disgust or not you didn't want to think about—and probably only made him more satisfied. "Mary," you groaned, looking at her through the mirror in front of you. "I think I'm going to be sick."

She shook her head and gave your reflection a sharp look back. "Not in that freshly ironed shirt you're not."

You sighed, settling back into your chair and sparing another glance at the man to your right. He tipped his head at you, almost tauntingly, and you felt your jaw tighten. It was going to be a long day.

2. Everyone else seemed to love him

You'd been going about your Thursday innocently, filming scenes when called upon—finally having memorized all your lines properly—and somehow getting through the morning without any irritating interactions with your least favorite person on set at the moment. That good feeling, of course, could only last so long.

"What's this?"

Minerva, your director, had been walking around set with you until you both stopped at the sight of a crowd forming outside one of the sets. You followed her, making your way through the crowd of your fellow actors and crew members until you were met with a nauseating sight: James Potter.

At the sight of your director, his already proud smile grew to a beaming one, almost blinding, as he greeted her. "We've all been really busy with this week's filming schedule, Minnie, and you mentioned what a hassle it's been ordering enough food for everyone every day with our budget, so I pulled some strings and got my family's chef to cater our lunch."

Your jaw slacked as he nodded his head to his left, where a number of tables were set up with what looked like pizza ingredients, a moustached-man in a chef hat standing behind the scene proudly. You couldn't believe your eyes. Apparently, neither could the woman next to you.

"Oh my- James this is ... amazing!" Minerva—or Minnie, as James somehow had grown accustomed to calling her—turned to your co-star, expression as bright and beaming as James's crowd-pleasing smile was. "But you shouldn't have gone to all this trouble-"

"It was no trouble at all. Francis was more than happy to help."

He waved a hand at the chef, who you assumed was the 'Francis' in question, who nodded back at him happily with a pizza cutter in his hand. It was like something out of a movie, the way everyone clapped for James who stood at the front of the crowd like the beloved man he was. You felt sick to your stomach.

"What's wrong? Do you not like the pizza?"

You'd taken your lunch shamefully, making sure to hide your amazement at the endless selection of pizza toppings that James had arranged at the build-your-own-pizza station, and were sitting with Remus, who you'd met at auditions for the show and luckily got casted in a role other than one that'd gone to James, and Sirius, another one of your co-stars who you'd quickly become friends with since you spent practically all your time on set nowadays.

You looked up at Remus briefly before returning your gaze to the pizza in front of you, the perfect slice underneath the sun seeming to taunt you. "No," you grumbled. "The pizza's amazing."

Sirius chuckled. "You'd think you'd be happy about that."

"I would, aside from the fact that it was Potter who brought it in."

The black-haired man tipped his head at you curiously. "What's your problem with James again?"

You shook your head forebodingly. "Don't tell me he's brainwashed you both with his hundred-dollar pizza too."

"I doubt the pizza's that much money." Remus bit into the slice in his hand, talking through the bite. "But it is pretty delicious."

"It is," Sirius nodded. "It was pretty nice of him to cover lunch for the day. If anything, you'd think you'd like him more for this."

You groaned. "He brought in his family's private chef, for God's sake. It's not like he rescued a cat from a tree or something."

Sirius and Remus shared a look as you spoke. You knew you sounded ridiculous, but you currently lacked enough dignity to care as yet another slice of pizza sat on your plate, ready to be eaten.

"James is actually a really nice lad," reasoned Sirius. "Take it from us. We kind of grew up with him."

That fact had yet to escape you as soon as you'd met the two of them. According to the stories they'd relayed to you, Remus's mum had been an on-set tutor to James growing up when he was acting in some movie, while Sirius's parents had been producers for some of James's parents' films. Safe to say, the three of them certainly left you feeling inexperienced in the world of acting.

"James should be the least of your worries," urged Remus. "He's harmless."

"If he's so harmless, then why has he gone out of his way to be a pain in my ass since I met him?"

Sirius snorted. "We said he's harmless, not that he's not an idiot sometimes."

"But," Remus added, "whatever James has done, just know that it always comes from a good place. The man doesn't have a mean bone in his body."

You sighed inwardly. The James Potter you knew seemed to be very different from the one that everyone else seemed to be familiar with, and it was driving you crazy.

3. He was an obnoxious flirt

When you said 'flirt', you not only meant that he flirted with you—unfortunately—but that he seemed to flirt with anyone in sight, whether he realized it or not. In fact, you'd been forced to watch as he smooth-talked one of the hairstylists on set for the past ten minutes.

You couldn't hear everything they were saying, thank god, but you were sure she was probably more charmed by the fact that his last name was Potter than anything he could remotely come up with to win her over. You'd had enough conversations with him to know that the movie-star smiles he offered were enough to charm people before they realized just how insufferable he was.

After what felt like hours, he said something to the woman in parting and left her looking flushed and smiley as he strolled away. You sighed, happy to finally be rid of distractions, and looked back down at the script on your lap that you were trying to memorize but stopped almost immediately as you felt an unwelcome presence lingering from in front of you. You looked up and fought a groan.

James tipped his head at you innocently. "You wanted me?"

You tensed at his phrasing and did your best to go back to ignoring him as you focused back on your script. "I did not."

Not taking the hint, as usual, he stayed put, shoving his hands in his well-tailored pockets. "Well, you've been staring at me for the past ten minutes, so I just assumed you had something to say."

"Well, you assumed wrong." You gave him a tight-lipped smile from where you sat. "And I wasn't staring. I just miraculously found it hard to concentrate on memorizing lines when you were harassing that hairstylist right next to me."

He squinted at you quizzically before shaking his head, finding your banter more amusing than you probably were. "Admit it. You're obsessed with me."

You scoffed, blinking rapidly to truly portray your disbelief. "You wish. Reality is, Potter—I think I hate you."

James peered at you with a glint in his eye like he'd never heard anything more amusing, leaning back against the wall next to you. "You think?"

You shrugged tightly. "The jury hasn't come to a decision just yet." You thought back to the unfortunately delicious pizza he'd provided, and all the things that Remus and Sirius had said to you that stood in stark contrast to practically every other experience you'd had with him.

James grinned, finding teasing you the most entertaining part of his day, even on set for a TV show. "So I still have a chance?"

His eyes glistened and you reeled. "A chance to what? Did you not hear the 'hate' part?"

"Hate is a strong word, don't you think?"

You shook your head. "Strong, but appropriate."

"Ouch." He touched his hand to his chest in that dramatic way he always did, something you blamed on his actor roots. "Your words hurt, you know." You rolled your eyes, truly trying then to get back to memorizing your lines so James would have nothing over you during filming the next day, but he didn't seem to care. "Look, I get it. You said you hate me. But really, I don't think you do."

You sighed, setting your script aside as you looked up at him with finality. "And why is that, Potter?"

"Because," James began, and you didn't like the tease in his tone as he looked down at you. "A little birdie told me you had some say in whether or not they cast me in South Bay. And that you actually encouraged it."

Your lips parted, those words being the last ones you expected him to say after weeks had gone by since the chemistry read. You didn't know who'd ratted you out, but whoever did would be getting a stern talking to. Or a partially stern one, since they were more than likely your boss.

You shrugged weakly at him. "That ... that doesn't mean anything."

James's thick brow lifted effortlessly. "So you're not denying it?"

At his challenging look, you relented with a drop of your shoulders. "I'm not. It's true; I told Minerva I think they should choose you to play Aaron becuase you are good at your job, James. As much as it annoys me. I mean, you're clearly a great actor, you get all your lines memorized overnight, not to mention the entire crew is in love with you for some reason-"

"Oh, I see."

You paused, looking at the way James's slight grin turned into a shit-eating one. "What?"

He tipped his head at you tauntingly. "You're jealous."

You let out a laugh harsher than you meant it to be. "Please. There's nothing about you I could possibly waste my energy being jealous over."

The brunette tutted, and you hated the feeling it sent through you. "For such a great actress, you're not a very good liar."

You felt your breathing shallow for a moment, not knowing what to do with the compliment that flowed so easily from his lips like he hadn't given it a second thought. You pushed the thought aside, focusing on the insult part of his statement instead, and rolled your eyes.

"Look," James continued at your expression. "Jealous or not, we're going to have to work together on this show for God knows how many more months. Years even, if it gets renewed for a second season." The thought both filled you with excitement and dread as it came from James's lips. He looked down at you with an honest curiosity. "How much longer can you go on pretending to hate me?"

You noted that what he was saying was true, letting the words sit in your chest for a moment, but you also noted that you had more fun being petty. You tilted your chin up at him. "Funny that you think I'm pretending."

James put a hand on the table you were sitting at, leaning forward slightly and making you freeze up. "Funny that you're still not a good liar, love."

Your throat felt tight with something you wanted to again dismiss as disgust at both his proximity and the delicate word that fell from his lips. You let an unpleasant pinch form between your brows. "I thought I told you not to call me that."

James felt something warm, almost giddy, form in his chest, and it didn't matter that you looked like you were considering slapping him right then. He let the corner of his lips quirk up. "You're adorable when you're mad."

"Don't call me that either." You huffed, picking up your still un-memorized script and standing. "I'm going to my trailer."

James quirked a brow, following you with only his eyes. "Is that an invitation?"

You rolled your eyes, walking away and calling over your shoulder. "Absolutely not."

taglist:

@ilovejamespottersomuch @empath-bunny @santaasi @veysxrge @bitterspoons @ladyhestiaa @rorybear14

[hearts4hughes]

present wrapping - nicholas chavez x fem!reader

holly jolly november

you and nicholas are sitting on the living room floor surrounded by wrapping paper, ribbons, and half-wrapped gifts. nick, looking a bit lost, holds a lumpy, unevenly wrapped box in his hands while you can’t help but laugh.

“okay, so… what exactly is this?” you giggle, pointing at his interestingly wrapped present.

with a sheepish grin on his face, he blushes, “a masterpiece? or maybe an abstract art piece. wrapping paper’s like my worst enemy right now.”

“yeah, i can tell.” you smile as he scratches the back of his neck. “give me that, i’ll teach you.”

half-wrapped present in hand, he shuffles closer to you on the floor. you take the present from him, removing the wrapping paper, and placing it down. as you explain to him the steps of present wrapping, he can’t help but be distracted by how pretty you looked under the christmas lights.

you and nick had always been close friends. you met through a mutual friend and clicked instantly. people joked around calling you platonic soulmates and nick always smiled, internally wishing for more. and now, with your soft voice and stunning face, it was harder for him to hide his feelings.

“earth to nick?” you snap at him and raise your brows. “are you even paying attention?”

he blinks his thoughts out of his eyes and nods. “uh- yeah.”

you roll your eyes with a playful smirk. “well, you better be because i’m making you do it yourself afterwards.”

he chuckled. you were always sassy and sarcastic, two of the many things he loved about you.

“and done!” you held up your perfectly wrapped box with a box fastened on top. “why don’t you try it? just fold and tape, it’s pretty simple.” you say it like it’s the easiest thing in the world as you hand him the roll of tape and wrapping paper.

his mouth is agape at how easy you made it seem. “you mean, try to not tape my fingers to the box?”

“exactly. small goals.” you begin laughing as he manages to tape down the paper without issue. he looks at you with a smug expression, taking pride in how he did the first step.

you watch as he focuses, carefully folding the paper like you showed him, his brows furrowed in concentration. there’s something endearing about how hard he’s trying, and you can’t help but smile.

“not bad… okay, okay, you’re actually doing pretty well,” you say, grinning. “maybe i am a good teacher.”

“or maybe you just have the patience of a saint.” he chuckles, nudging you with his shoulder.

finally, he secures the last piece of tape, then looks at the gift, a bit crooked but charming in its own way.

“there,” he says, looking at you proudly. “what do you think?”

“i think you’re a natural.” you both laugh, the sound warm and easy.

there’s a quiet pause, and you realize how close you’re sitting. the christmas lights cast a soft glow, and for a second, you wonder if he’s feeling the same thing you are.

“thanks for helping me… and for putting up with my terrible wrapping skills,” he says softly.

“hey, anytime,” you reply, meeting his gaze, your voice dropping to a whisper. “it’s actually kinda fun.”

a beat of silence falls over the room like snow on christmas eve. the two of you gaze into each others eyes and for a moment, time froze and only the two of you existed. nicholas’s eyes flickered between yours and your lips.

without another word, he leans in, his lips brushing yours in a gentle, unexpected kiss that feels like it’s been waiting to happen for a long time. it’s soft, warm, and perfectly timed, just like everything else tonight.

he pulls back with a smile. “sorry, i-”

you interrupt him, “i don’t mind.” your face is flushed with maroon hues. you try to regulate your breathing.

“good, because i’ve been wanting to do that… well, for longer than i’d like to admit.”

you lean into him with a content smile. in that moment, you felt whole. like whatever had been missing inside of you had suddenly been filled. you both let out a small giggle, content with this now cherished moment.

[unicyclehippo]

Bishova: alcohol

just a little shorty im writing instead of sleeping bc i don’t! like! storms! i don’t think I’ve quite got yelena’s vibe but it was fun to write. set in the same stories as the others

//

(21:48) jpg. attachment

(21:48) jpg. attachment

(21:49) jpg. attachment

when her phone buzzed fourteen times in one minute, that was when yelena knew she had made a mistake.

‘kate bishop, you are pushing my patience,’ she said to no one and the empty safe house.

snatching up the phone, she considered crushing it—they could part ways like that, easy, and she would not ever have to think about clint barton or kate bishop again—but it was the only burner phone she had and kate bishop was not the only message she was waiting for. plus, she liked the dog.

the first eight messages were all photos of said dog. it had snowed since they arrived at the barton farm and lucky wore booties on his paws. from the photos of his bizarre walk and tail tucked between his legs, yelena guessed the pizza dog didn’t like them.

the other six messages were not photos and they were not short. yelena groaned at the first wall of text but she had four hours until extraction and nothing else to provide diversion.

‘you are the lucky one, kate bishop,’ yelena told her, which would have sounded menacing if the girl were here but, since she was not, was just kind of sad.

(21:50) hey sorry about sending a dozen photos, i didnt really think about it first because lucky was just so cute but you feel like the kind of person who would get irritated by that sort of thing so i’ll keep it to a totally normal & very chill number of messages from now on! promise!!!! anyway i just wanted to say merry christmas, i don’t know if you celebrate because you said an awful lot about american christmas like it wasn’t super familiar and idk if russian (?) christmas is different but either way, i hope you have a rly nice day

(21:50) this is kate

(21:50) bishop

(21:50) fyi

(21:50) in case you didnt realise or save my number

(21:50) ok im done now i promise good night

yelena had to laugh. she swiped her thumb up the tiny dim screen of the flip phone, pressed it to the many exclamation points.

kate bishop.

what a surprise she had been.

what a surprise she remained.

yelena was not surprised at herself, for being intrigued by the girl. she was not much younger but she was so different and it was the itch, wasn’t it? the need to scratch at the persistent question. what would she have been like if the red room had not been?

yelena did not think she would be much like kate bishop. even as a little girl, she did not talk as much, share as much. kate bishop walked through the world without any shields, all soft eyes and soft skin. it made yelena’s skin crawl to be around it, still not sure the softness would not infect.

and yet. she went back. she had her answer but she went back to her. with alcohol, for the proper drowning of sorrows.

yelena cut her eyes across the horizon. the hills were silver under the moonlight and she would be able to see any vehicles or bodies long before they reached the house. she was sat on the empty table in the centre of the living room; it was the only piece of furniture and from her place she had a sightline out in every direction.

she had not expected such a night they spent drinking together. when the fourth shot hit kate’s system, she was very chatty. yelena learned much that she asked and more that she had not.

kate bishop was hiding something.

she learned that very quickly, and enjoyed trying to pluck it from the girl. to no avail. if she had more time, maybe, but kate did not handle alcohol well.

she would not have handled the red room well.

it hurt to think it, which was foolish. yelena was not there and she would never go back. it was gone, the men who ran it were dead.

it hurt to think it because the red room still sat in her head, still was tangled in everything she was, still soaked her hands, her history, her name. when she walked, she thought of it. when she talked, she thought of it. when she sat beside this girl, listing from griefs weight on her shoulders and drunkenness, yelena thought first that killing her would take no effort at all. kate bishop had a long, pretty neck and she could put a blade, a piece of glass, against her carotid and—red. she had done it before. to girls less soft.

taking her money was easy and more practical.

leaving her number was…not.

and now this.

yelena tapped a button to light up the screen. it did not get good quality photos, this phone, but the pizza dog was funny anyway.

(21:54) i will dispose of this phone tomorrow.

(22:00) yelena! hi! okay?? because i sent too many messages or??

(22:00) you are funny, kate bishop. and you talk so much.

(22:01) i know. sorry

(22:01) i am glad you were never assassin. it would be a shame to kill you. return safely to nyc.

(22:02) thanks. you too

(22:03) or wherever you’re headed

(22:03) which is……..?

yelena huffed a laugh. a brick of a car shouldered over the hillside and rattled down the long long road toward the house. she dropped the burner to the floor and hopped down from the table, crushing it beneath her boot.

[zaynelusmusings]

Winter's surprisingly warm in September

Synopsis: M/C loves Zayne, and Zayne loves M/C. They spend a week away in a quiet cottage to celebrate Zayne's birthday. Zayne is thankful, yet he cannot truly express it in the way he wants to but he finds a way.

Word Count:c2.5k 

Warning/s: None, just good ol' fluff hehe.

Note: I had initially posted this on A03 for Zayne's birthday but had only gotten around to proofreading it and making some changes. If there are any other grammatical mistakes welp sorry call it a rebellion against the coloniser's language lmfaooo.

______________________________________________________________

Zayne is not a cold and indifferent man, he really is not. It is simply that his bashful grins and crinkles beside his eyes are solely reserved for one. Locked and kept away for years on end - he had known for just as long that she had held the key. It was merely a test of his patience and trust in fate that she had taken her time to realise her ownership.

His passive face is one that she and everyone else have grown accustomed to, so it warms her to no end when he spoils her with his boisterous laughter and endless affection. She likes it though (almost feels selfish too sometimes) yet the fact that this side of him is reserved solely for her? She treasures it like an intimate secret, the honourable one he’d chosen to bear witness to his most vulnerable moments and parts. As beautiful as the raw Zayne is, a protective lover she is - she’d close the blinds at anyones else’s attempt to steal a peek at her treasure trove.

It is snowing, and Zayne looks right at home. Sure, it is a little on the nose, with his Evol being ice after all. But he is beautiful, the green in his eyes the perfect apology for the lack of leaves, all fallen as nature dances into the cold season. She wonders sometimes, if he realises that every part of his body and character sung symphonies and wrote poetry illustrating nature’s best work. A crimson shade has found home across his cheeks, a little due to the cold, many due to her unbashful flirtation. She loves complimenting him and is very well aware that she does it a lot, but she likes to think of it as making amends for all of the time lost from forcing the distance between themselves from each other. 

It was a funny yet regretful story that she would hope to tell their future children. About how she went so long bearing the weight of forcing her true feelings to the side out of fear of rejection from him? A seasoned hunter in combat she was, but even the bravest soldiers lack the courage to bear vulnerability.

As frustrating fate can be sometimes, it can also be sweet. She had determined that her and Zayne are fated to be together - a little cliche - the Doctor who heals, and the reckless hunter who gets hurt. But as puzzle pieces go, opposing shapes are the best pair. Hence, despite their feeble attempts to stay away from each other, it was always fated that they would end up together anyway. Despite, despite, despite.

Despite how a chief cardiac surgeon and a hunter’s schedules would never compliment one another. Despite the fact he still hasn’t found a cure for her heart condition (and it pains him to no end after each working day of research that leads to nowhere, so much so that he feels unworthy to be sleeping in the same bed as her at night). Despite the fact that he isn’t able to tell her that he loves her. (He does, very much so.)

Despite betraying Astra to love her, only to be punished for doing so.

But reasons of despite were set aside this weekend, the swirls of adoration and awe crystal clear in her eyes as she watches Zayne pet the black stray cat and welcome it into their lodging - a quaint cottage by the mountains. Nestled near the fireplace, she watches quietly as the raven haired doctor brushes snow off the feline’s fur, his voice an octave higher as he coos at the cat. The black cat, one that Zayne muses has the same mannerisms as his lover, nuzzles its head thankfully against his warm and large palm. The faint buzz of its purr is telling of the cat’s fondness of Zayne. Well, it seems like this gentle and loving side of him is reserved for two now.

“Found him underneath the bench outside,” Zayne chuckles as it begins to knead its wet paws on his trousers, but he paid no mind to the now soiled material. “Three’s not a crowd, right?” He briefly glances at her, still a little distracted by the cat.

She watches it all, and feels it in her chest. The way her heart races, the tingle in her fingers as she clutches the material of her knit sweater - Zayne is too good to be true. She swears she physically feels the atoms of love form within her chest, and her discipline wears thin soon enough as she makes her way over to the raven haired pair by the front door.

“Not at all, as long as he’s okay with sharing Doctor Zayne with me.” Folding her legs, she also begins petting the cat, and the purring grows impossibly louder. They both laugh, and he feels his heart squeeze too. He could not ask for more, no. His lover, a warm purring companion and a fireplace. Santa had packaged and wrapped up his gift in this quaint cottage. Zayne immediately says a prayer of gratitude, a pang of panic and fear attempting to whisper distractions into his brain. But Zayne wills them away, he refuses to give into the possibility (or as the narrator of his life would call ‘inevitability’) of losing her and the heartbreak that will follow suit - not tonight anyway.

In an ideal world, this is the life he would be able to live everyday. They’d both be married, and he’d come home to a cat and her. It’d be cold outside, but it’d be warm inside. Zayne doesn’t think he’s asking for much, too. Home could just be four walls, and a symphony made of their combined laughter and their cat’s purrs would be the only song he’d have playing on the vinyl. 

In this world of reality, they’d be back to the status quo. Zayne would be ending a day of surgeries with at least three hours of research (that would still lead to more disappointing revelations) and she would be deep in quarantine zones fighting wanderers. (Her occupation does nothing, maybe only worse things for his anxiety for her safety and health) It is then another four days of yearning and rounds of nervous regulations before he has her safe and sound in his arms again. He’ll have the kettle of green tea freshly brewed for her in the kitchen, her (his) favourite worn our Akso Hospital staff t-shirt and cotton shorts laid out on the bed, and the new crime documentary about the case she hasn’t stopped babbling about ready to go on the television screen.

Reality isn’t bad at all though, he thinks. Any reality with her in it is one worth sacrificing for. 

“Hm, are you saying you’d be okay with sharing? I remember the sigh you gave me when I asked for a bite of your dessert.” He teases her, pressing a kiss against her cold cheek. The chilliness of her skin makes him frown immediately, and he stands up carefully, pulling him with her. The softness in his eyes fade a little, worry glazing them instead. “You’re cold. You should get under the covers in the bedroom. I’ll get the heater going.” Nothing gets him back into the stern and moody character than his worry for her. He plays around with different reasons as to why, but it is exceptionally hard for him to see her cold, especially. (It’s because in some other world, he freezes her as an act of retribution for her attempts to steal the Creatio Protocore.)

Everyone loves their Evol, humans were always encouraged to celebrate their unique types of Evols - but not Zayne. Perhaps it was because he still hasn’t figured out how to control it the same way everyone else is capable of doing so. The ice, though woven in his DNA, is never truly his companion - only a fair-weathered friend who has more loyalty to Astra than to him. He’s well familiar with the freezing pain caused by his own Evol. The same freezing pain he has to endure, enough to make him nauseous to think if even a hint of it was felt by his beloved. So, in this world, he usually settles for this reason as to why he simply cannot stand seeing her cold.

Sighing, she slides her arms around his waist, her red nose nuzzling against the thick material of his sweater. “It’s snowing outside, of course I’m a little cold. But I’m okay, I was just waiting for you.” Her voice is muffled against his clothes, her nose scrunching as the fibres of his sweater tickles her skin. Slowly, his shoulders relax, though the frown on his face stubbornly stays. He sighs, but wraps his arms around her shoulders. “Thank you for waiting for me. We should get in bed now.”

And so they do. Nestled underneath the thick blanket, Zayne exudes the opposite of his Evol. He is a man of warmth, her own personal furnace as she continues to nuzzle herself closer against her lover. A familiar thought intrudes her brain, he is too good to be true.

Little does she know, Zayne feels the same way. Despite the complex lore of their story and compounded complication of their fates, Zayne knows one thing - he loves truly and deeply. True to his Evol, the icy terrors are already covering his skin as soon as he begins to form the intention of rolling a syllable of the three words off his tongue. 

Astra was a being that Zayne has grown to hate, yet knows that he would still get on his knees in gratitude for their mercy upon him for he is still able to show his affection for her with little to no consequences. He’ll take anything, anything at all. A prized possession like her, the exact molecules that both the sun and moon are made of – oh to be graced by her presence, it is more than enough reason for him to pilgrim Astra’s both heaven and hell.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” his voice barely a whisper as his arms naturally pull her closer against his chest, their blushing noses meeting for a brief moment. “This is truly a birthday I will remember for the rest of my life.” He speaks so earnestly that it causes a flip in his own stomach, his own body physically reacting to the profound feeling of love in his chest.

“Thank you for letting me celebrate your birthday with you.” She knew that Zayne had never truly celebrated his birthday, and the fact broke her heart. While she also knew that it was not necessarily something Zayne got upset over, the fact being of his own scheduling faults too, it was a habit she wanted to break. She’d spent everyday celebrating this man if she could, and the day Earth was graced of this kind and selfless man was not a day she planned to take lightly. Hence, after pulling some strings and endless communication with his colleagues at work, here they are. 

She feels the emotions bubble up in her once again, unknowingly causing a jerk reaction of her fingers to clench around the material of his sweater and she whimpers. With furrowed brows and an immediate worry, Zayne gushes out, “What’s wrong? Is your heart in pain?”

Shaking her head immediately to soothe his worries, she releases her grip on his sweater promptly as her cold fingers gently caress the smooth skin of his face. 

“Zayne,” she begins, her voice laced with shyness.

“My love.. If it hurts, you must let me know.” She feels his grip on her waist tighten ever so slightly. “It’s not my heart. I’m okay, I promise.” Biting on the flesh of her lower lip, her eyes darted down to his own plump ones. Her impulse wins, and she presses a chaste kiss onto his lips. Sighing, she rests her forehead against his and feels his body relax soon after. “I love you, Zayne.”

It isn’t not a profound confession, it was something she knew that he knew. But she also is aware of his condition, and the curse of it all that prevents him from saying it back.

It truly doesn’t matter to her though, because a lover like Zayne would never make her doubt his true feelings for her. Through his gentle caresses, the separate kettle of green tea that he brews her (despite the fact that he likes coffee, and she doesn’t), the safe late night rides back to her apartment after her long hunting days (and his very own long night of surgical procedures) – she knew that he loves her.

She feels his eyes flutter open, a pained look in her green orbs. Swirls of guilt are evident in his green orbs and though this look would have fooled people into thinking he was guilty for not feeling the same way, she knew that it was because he couldn’t repeat the sentiments.

“Shh, It’s okay.” She shakes her head, pressing yet another kiss to his now trembling lips. “I love you, Zayne. I’m not saying it because I need to hear it back. I’m saying it because that’s how I feel. I’m telling you, Zayne.” Her voice shakes against her will. “I love you, Zayne. I want you to know that I love you. I want to tell you that I love you.”

“And I don’t need to hear it back. I know you do.” Her fingers move to the back of his head, as they comb gently through his raven locks. “I don’t want to not say it, just because you can’t say it. I love you, Zayne.”

It isn’t the first time she has said it either, but definitely is one of very few times, considering their situation. She wishes to change this fact, because a man like him deserves to be showered with love. The grip on her waist tightens, and she swears she hears him let out a whimper before his lips crashes against hers.

“Thank you.” He whispers, voice wavering ever so slightly (but she doesn’t miss it), and he moves impossibly closer to her. “I love you too.”

It is now her turn to be in panic, yet before she could even protest, he continues despite the wince on his face, the thin layer of ice already beginning to form on the side of his neck. “But more importantly, I live for you.” He confesses through a pained voice. “This curse, or whatever pain life may bring me, I promise to live for you. So that I can take care of you.” He blows air out of his mouth as he awaits for the ice to melt away - and it seems like Astra beared mercy this time - it does so quickly enough under her touch.

He smiles tiredly as the pain fades, nudging her nose with his own. “I live for you.” He repeats, and immediately, she understands what it exactly means.

Because it will hurt - he knows that. The curse is a curse that he knows would not ever be retracted. Despite the exhaustion that plights him, despite the fate of pain written in his destiny, he lives for her.

“I love you.” She whispers.

“I live for you.” He echoes.

Author's note: Anyway it's been like 927492 years since I had tumblr so I started this blog anew!!I've been creeping on here to satiate my LNDS cravings so I thought I'd join the fun lol. Pls enjoy and feel free to send in requests/prompts (I am in my 20s but I refuse to write smut lol)

[lavender-butterfly-cookie]

Hey if you could can you write for the Ancients comforting a fellow ancient reader who got kidnapped by their beast and chat with them? (I don't know how else to work this I'm not good at explaining things)

Plot suggestion: basically it's kind of just the scene from Sam Remy Spider-Man from Peter Parker getting kidnap to Green Goblin giving them a proposition then flying away saying "THINK ABOUT IT "HERO"" but with some alterations

Here's the scene that I'm talking about

https://youtu.be/sAfxBXAQCZM?si=LfuEqW_z1cqA9uqp

Brother, I had to go watch that scene- I will gladly do it. Side note, most likely going with the light of patience Y/N cookie because that's currently the only Y/N ancient cookie I've created.

Comfort after the chaos

After a long lasting series of VERY unfortunate events, you were back in your kingdom and exhausted. You just endured what seemed to be a forever lasting trip to and from Beast-Yeast and you had a lot on your mind. Especially after your encounter with the beasts. You have no idea how, but you had to travel there 5 times. And in all those five times you found yourself held captive. You were doing this to help your fellow ancients, NOT BE KIDNAPPED 5 TIMES IN THE TIME SPAN OF FIVE WEEKS!

Speaking of the ancients, they were all worried about you. You didn't have a previous holder of the light of patience, so there was no particular beast who was after your soul jam. But that was more of a reason to help your companions in defeating their beasts. However, you seemed to be targeted more than your allies, and no matter how hard you tried you found yourself in the same situation. In the clutches of the beasts.

The Beasts didn't harm you physically, but the mental trauma was far from ceasing anytime soon. Everything each of them said correlated to the conclusion that you'd be better off joining them and giving in to the corruption. Because there's nothing more the people love more than to watch a hero fall. In the end they'd all grow to be bitter to you, grow to hate you despite how much you've done for them. They'd hurt you and part of you knew it was true. "So why not hurt them fiirst?" That was always the question. All those interactions ended with them leaving you to think about it and you had never quite recovered from the experience

Your discomfort and unease did not go unnoticed by the other ancients, oh not at all. Every time you returned from beast yeast you seemed more shaken up and all of them felt guilty for having you tag along only to return traumatized. With this in mind, they all tried to comfort you as best they could. Though you never actually told them what had happened during your time being a hostage, they were determined to soothe any discomfort.

"Do not allow Shadow Milk cookies words to get to you, Y/N cookie. Anything from that Beast can not be trusted." Pure Vanilla cookie stated as he pulled a placed a tea cup on the table in front of you. He walks behind you and pulls a blanket over your shoulders as a means to make you feel at ease. And it's working. "I promise you that he will never be given the chance to disturb you so much. I will always be here to stir you in the right direction if he ever tries to get in your head again"

"I apologize once again that you had to be dragged through that issue, Y/N cookie." Dark Cacao said, he had grown a bit soft after he saw how being kidnapped had effected you. Despite you reassuring him that it wasn't his fault, he couldn't just leave it be. Though he wasn't exactly... best with comfort, you could see he was trying. Caramel Arrow Cookie and Crunchy Chip cookie were doing more of the direct comforting for him, CA occasionally hugging you and making sure you were ok whilst CC had his cream wolves huddle around you to comfort you. Both methods worked quite well. They did this because Dark Cacao himself genuinely wasn't sure of how the best way to console you would be after encountering Mystic Flour cookie. But you did appreciate the effort.

"Go on Y/N cookie! I insist. Anything you want shall be yours" Golden Cheese said. She had a plan, and that plan was to spoil you filthy! Anything you had taken an interest in was immediately yours. And even if you didn't want anything she'd still buy you things she knew you liked or gave you comfort. She would take you on flights around the kingdom too. She had also grown a habit of hugging you and wrapping her wings around you as though to protect you. And she was protecting you. Protecting you from Burning Spice cookie, as she should've done when you were still in Beast-Yeast. She's got you, and she ain't letting NOBODY try taking you away from her. They'd have to catch these hands first! And that gave you a sense of security

"How are you feeling, Y/N cookie? You doing better?" Hollyberry cookie asked as she prepared another cup of juice. You were both outside and she had been more of an energetic comforter than the previous three. A bit of fresh air and exercise should be a good distraction from whatever the heck Eternal Sugar cookie had said to you. She had also gotten you a lot of juice. Like- A LOT. You weren't sure if she was trying to get you drunk or something but fortunately none of them seemed to have alcohol. At least not the ones she had given you. She was also quite insistent on a bit more training so you could better prevent such situations, which was something you expected more from Dark Cacao but for some reason it didn't happen. Regardless, she's wants you to be protected, even if it's not by her.

"Please don't stray too far away, Y/N cookie. I still have yet to fully adjust to the forest myself." White Lily cookie requested as you both took a stroll under the night sky. She had been a lot more cautious with you after having lost you to Silent Salt cookie. She tried everything that usually made her feel better with you. Taking you to flower gardens, having a cup of tea whilst reading a good book, cuddles, any and everything. She also had the faeries take care of your needs when she couldn't be near, which they did gladly since they were aware of your contribution to their queens victory. White Lily will make sure you are as comfortable as possible and having her around is comforting in itself.

[godawfulfruitbat]

hello tumblr, it’s been a while.

like….WAAYYYYY longer than i intended it to be. but man. shit happened. and shit is happening.

i want to apologize in advance as i come with no art today, i just want to do my best to provide a quick life update and some words of love. talking/writing has never really been my strong suit, but i will give it my all regardless.

in terms of life update, there’s been a good handful of things going on during the past few months. for one, i got a job! i don’t talk about my personal life too much here, but there was a good block of time during the duration of this blog where i was unemployed. but im finally working again and it feels good. in terms of surgery recovery, its been…a lot. i had some minor issues with fluid buildup in my chest, and then later on i had an infection in one of my scars. but i am now at a point where im up and running, and everything has been resolved in that regard. another thing i don’t discuss much here is my struggles with physical health. in my personal life, i deal with chronic pain. and, during top surgery recovery, all of my issues just SKYROCKETED since i was off a few of my medications and have only very slowly been returning to their normal level of nuisance. i’m doing better than i was a few months ago, but things are still not the best. i’m at a point in my life where it has been in my best interest to use a cane in instances where i know i will be walking a lot or standing up for long periods of time to deal with some of the pain i get in my back, hips, knees and ankles. it’s been a pretty big help, and it’s an adjustment i’m glad i made. i’m having a lot of big feelings surrounding my experiences with chronic pain, especially now, but i am learning to live with them and move forward. when i am able to do so, id love to go back to posting on here. however, i am no longer at a point in my life where i can prioritize this blog the same way i used to. i will do what i can, and i promise to come back every now and then to check in with you all. every single one of you has had so much patience with me and showed me so much kindness and i am so grateful. you all are wonderful, and i love you very much.

and since i cannot in good faith say nothing, i am from america and i too am overwhelmed with grief and loss. i am still mourning the sliver of hope i had for seeing brighter days in the near future. but to those who see this and are in the same boat, you are not alone. you are loved, your presence matters and is important. your thoughts and your words are powerful, and it’s not over yet. if you need someone in your corner, reach out. i am here for you, as are so many others. i reiterate; you are loved.

everyone please stay safe, and be kind to yourself. i love you all so much. <3

[gojobbg]

friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt. 8

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: AHHH im so sorry i was gone for so long! work and school and i got sick again. my luck lately has been quite poor, but here's the next part!! i dont think its quite well written but i hope you all think its good! thank u again for ur support, kindness, and patience :) (sorry i say thank you so much, cant help myself!)

all parts: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7,

December | Tokyo, Japan | Wednesday

You should have worn more lotion. 

The unkind cold and threatening winds made your trek to work excruciatingly more difficult. Surely you made it, but had to get blind by the flurries of snow in the process. You take your time in the lobby, stomping aggressively down at the weather mats to remove all the snow and ice from your boots. You shake yourself like a wet dog to get the snow off your coat, too. The lobby men chuckle at you, and you couldn’t help but smile. 

It’s been rough to do so, after all. Considering you got rejected twice by the same man, you needed all the serotonin you could get. You spent hours crying, which only halted when you finally passed out. The heartbreak exhausted you, given how dark your eyes were, and how hollow your chest has felt since then. The worst part about all of it is that despite everything, you still had Nanami’s coffee in mind. 

It floated in your mind to go to the cafe and get him a cup. But you have to remember that he has other assistants who know his coffee order now. You were now one of few who knew it. 

To have your relationship seen as just boss/assistant by the other participant felt like punishment. A large sigh left your lips when you exited the elevator on your floor. Shivers tickled your body as you begrudgingly walked over to your desk. It was warm in the office, enough for you to take solace in. 

You begin to turn on your computer and prepare your desk, before being interrupted by two hands slamming down your desk. You look up to find a panting (and exhausted) Haibara. “Yu?” You whisper worriedly. “Is everything okay?”

“He lost the flashdrive,” Haibara lets out. “The presentation… it’s missing.” 

Your eyes widen, “Nanami? But… how?” Of all people, Nanami was never one to lack in anything, especially in organization. He was always sharp and aware of where all his things were. You never had to concern yourself with assignments getting lost because Nanami is too diligent.

“We– we um, drank last night…?” Haibara reluctantly confesses. “We both got home quite late… he might not have his whole head on.”

Without another word, you swiftly leave your desk and rush over to Nanami’s office, with Haibara following closely behind. On your way towards his office, you see all of Takada’s assistants outside of his office, their expressions full of concern. You make your way through them and knock on his door gently. 

“What?” Nanami’s annoyed tone rang through the door. 

“It’s Y/N,” you reply, ignoring his attitude. 

Quick shifting was sound behind the door before the doorknob began to turn. The door opens to reveal a disheveled Nanami. Despite his usually refined features, his unkempt hair and unbutton shirt was quite distracting. The shadows line his collarbone and the darkness under his eyes add to the intensity in his struggling, hazel eyes. He leaned against the door frame, his eyes slightly lighting up from your presence. There was some sort of relief in his eyes, but it was still drowned out by anxiety. 

“Please, please tell me you have a copy?” Nanami practically begs.  

You feel a lump in your throat from seeing his desperation. Not even you can be dismissive to his plea. “I–I was instructed not to keep an extra copy. It’s confidential, so I didn’t…” 

Nanami let out a quiet ‘fuck,’ retreating slowly back towards his desk. “Don’t worry, I’m not upset with you. I’m upset with myself because you’re right and I’m simply irresponsible…” He leans back against his desk, defeatedly holding himself up with his hands firmly down on the desk behind him. He looks distantly to the floor, a sight you never thought you’d ever see. 

The confident, sharp Nanami was now at his wits’ end. 

“Do you remember when you last had it?” You ask quietly. 

“I had it in my coat pocket on my way here,” he recalls quietly, “I still had it when I got off the train, so it must be outside around the area.” 

“But with all that snow…” Haibara begins, the defeat clearly on his tongue. 

You let out a sigh, emitting a calm apology before dismissing yourself. Once you were out of sight, you ran towards the elevator, practically beating the button until it arrived to you. You impatiently wait as you descend, your body already feeling the cold from outside. Even maintenance couldn’t believe their eyes as they watched you run out from the lobby, and into the harsh weather. 

It was a bit embarrassing for you. You were always there to fix Nanami’s scarce mistakes, or prevent them. Even after he broke your heart twice, here you are, outside in the freezing cold, without any garments to protect you from it. You could feel your body beginning to go numb from the seconds you were outside. 

Your exposed legs were inches deep in the snow, your frigid hands sifting desperately through the snow. Why? You asked yourself. Why, why, why? You were freezing, the weather was harsh, and this flash drive is as small as a roach. Why were you doing all of this? 

As you shoveled through the snow, you were finally able to feel how you were feeling after facing Nanami again. You were able to keep yourself from crying, but you wanted to cry profusely. Your boss, your crush, was stressed out over a mistake he made, and it didn’t even make you feel better. Unfortunately, your feelings were too weaved into his, and you felt the stress he is feeling. 

It bothered you to see him stressed. So much so, your body moved on its own and now it was in the cold, looking for the solution to Nanami’s problem. You didn’t even stay idle for a moment while in his office. Perhaps, the reason why you were helping him was because since you met Nanami, he has always been someone to work for his team. 

But you know for sure part of it was that you never want to see him like that again.

Taking on projects on his own to keep his other colleagues working in low piles. Working with clients he personally isn’t a fan of to make sure the company grows. Providing breakfast and lunch when important meetings arise to make sure everyone at least eats well before torturous work. He was strict, but never a mean person. And to that end might explain why you still felt the way you did. 

However, 

Your respect for him goes above your feelings. A hard piece of plastic was barely felt between your fingers, but they were able to hold onto it firmly. The small flash drive, covered in a bit of snow, still glowed green when you pushed up to reveal the USB. You promptly make your way back in, the warmth barely penetrating the cold you developed while being outside. 

I’m gonna get sick, you thought to yourself. As you passed through the lobby, you noticed Nanami’s clients getting checked in at the lobby. You hurry to the elevator, pushing aggressively at the close button so they didn’t have a chance to get there at the same time you did. You move your legs in place, attempting to regain some warmth. While you ascended, you purposely pushed the buttons of the floors you passed to delay their arrival. Finally reaching your level, you rush out to go to the other free elevator. As you did, you were met with a concerned Haibara. 

“H-hey!” Haibara calls to you, but you ignore him and shove the flash drive into his hand. But as you did, he noticed that you were frozen and kept his hands around yours. “You… found it? Did you go outside? Without a coat? Y/N, you’re freezing!” 

Oh, how you wished you fell for Haibara instead. You pull away your hand, quickly entering the other elevator and slamming your hands on the buttons. You look up at Haibara, your bottom lip blue and quivering. “Take it to Nanami,” you say roughly, your voice hoarse from the little warmth in your body. “Your clients. They’re downstairs. Hurry up.”

Haibara holds onto your arms, noticing that you could barely keep yourself up, “yeah, fuck the clients. You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“Please,” you look up at him desperately, tears welling in your eyes. It was already enough that you felt stupid for even looking for the flashdrive in this state. But even Haibara couldn’t push away the hurt and stress in your own eyes. “I’ll be fine… please help Nanami finish this.” 

“Let me at least walk you to your desk–” 

“I got her!” You both look over to see Tae run over, his apron dancing left and right from not being properly tied in the back. He quickly takes hold of you, looking up at Haibara to give him a curt nod in replacement of a proper bow. “Resume your work, Haibara-sama. I can tend to her.” 

Tae held you close enough that you could feel his warmth. It was intoxicating almost, the solace of his heat and the scent of pine needles emanating from his body. The fresh scent of linen coming from his black sweatshirt made you feel a little nostalgic but uneasy. You could still feel the cold taking you over, your entire body shivering. His hands firmly held you without squeezing you tightly. 

Haibara looks down skeptically, but you wave at him. “Please go,” you croak, coughs finally leaving your throat. “I’ll be fine.” You could see that you didn’t quite persuade him, but for the sake of Nanami, he nodded. 

He eyes Tae, a rare serious aura surrounding him, “get her to a doctor if she needs it. I’ll be back as soon as the presentation ends. Please make her something hot, like hot cocoa or soup.” Tae nods, allowing Haibara to run back towards Nanami, who was probably drowning in his own anxiety. 

“‘m sorry to inconvenience you like this, Tae,” you whisper, your body still shaking and twitching from the cold. “But thank you for that.” 

“No worries, please don’t exert yourself,” Tae softly warns. He tightens his hold on you before slowly walking you over to the cafe. Though you didn’t have enough trust to close your eyes, you did have enough to hold his sweater, confident that he won’t let you fall. “Let me help you. After all, you helped me first. Come, the cafe is just around the corner.” 

The relief on Nanami’s face was truly meant to be displayed in a museum. 

He held onto the flashdrive tightly, mentally scolding himself from ever dropping it in the first place. He forces it into the projector, and everything was set up for the clients to come in moments. He noticed that the flash drive was not only still cold, but slightly wet. “Was it outside in the snow?” 

Haibara nods as he fixes up the conference table a bit. It was ornate with drinks, snacks, and notetaking items for their clients to use and enjoy. “The snow is really growing by the inch out there. This winter is brutal.” 

“It truly is unkind out there,” Nanami sighs, his eyes looking through the window. “I hope you grabbed your coat before going out there.” 

Haibara shakes his head, “it wasn’t me who found the flashdrive; it was Y/N. I caught her at the elevator, and she was the one who handed it to me.” 

Nanami slightly perks up at your name, “did she really?” 

“She left straight from your office to go find it,” Haibara says quietly, “but she didn’t even bring a sweater. She was completely frozen when I saw her.” 

This left a pit in Nanami’s stomach. “Why did she not bring a coat? She’s more rational than that.” 

Haibara lets out a sigh, “who’s to say, Kento. Y/N works very hard to do right by you and this company. I think she’d do whatever it takes in order to make sure you and this department shines.” 

“Disregarding her health is not why she’s here,” Nanami huffs strictly. “Where is she?” 

“I left her with the barista you hired,” Haibara informs, “my guess is he took her to the cafe to warm her up.” 

Nanami’s eyes cut over to Haibara, burning through his soul. Despite this, Haibara still didn’t see his eyes. “You left her with a stranger?” 

“A stranger you hired,” Haibara clarifies. “Anyways, Y/N insisted I come help you. I’d probably make her feel worse if I didn’t.” 

There was a rare annoyance that Nanami never felt. You were always conscious of yourself, and others. Nanami always noticed when you would help someone with a large pile of papers, or when you applied bandages to blisters due to your heels. But more times than not, you never shied away from a challenge, and never hesitated to help someone whether they asked or not. 

But now you were far from him, and he couldn’t do anything to help you. He had this stupid presentation to do, rather than be by your side and tend to you. After all, you truly were the reason behind his success. The reason for his reduced stress, and a direct asset to his department. You did so much for him, only to be given a shred of that effort. He was feeling guilty, not only for being unaware of his feelings towards you, but the immense disregard he had for your own feelings and effort in this company. 

You were his dear assistant, and he was breaking you. 

“I’ll be back,” Nanami hums, rushing out of the conference room. Haibara looks back and follows right behind him, surprised by his sudden dash. 

Nanami, the meeting!” Haibara calls out to him, “you can’t do this right now!” 

His response was silence as he reached the corner towards the cafe. As he appears in the opening, his hazel eyes relentlessly looked for you. But when he stumbled upon you, his concern and annoyance skyrocketed. 

You were lying on one of the couches at the cafe, surrounded by a few of the baristas there. They all comforted you, as you lay under a few blankets. But Nanami noticed that below all of that, you were covered by a large, black crewneck. On your head, a beanie as well. And sat on a stool right in front of you with a hot coffee cup was Tae, the barista he hired. Nanami noticed the warmth in his eyes when he looked down at you, with a free hand out to you. Your boss felt a lump in his throat when he saw you take his hand, helping you sit up to take the cup from him. Tae kept his hand on the bottom of the cup while you sipped it cautiously. 

His chest felt like someone was pushing it down, his breath was limited. His heart, at the same time, was punching against it as well, almost as if it was going through a two-front war. He looks down at his hands, adjusting the sleeves at both of his wrists. He needed to reach you– sooner rather than later. And now looked like the perfect opportunity. 

But before he could take another step, the elevator behind him opened, and the entourage of clients he was expecting stood before him, all smiles. Haibara catches up and pats Nanami’s back, forcing him to turn around as they both curtly bow in greeting. A vein protruded Nanami’s temple, and Haibara looked back to see what he was looking at. 

What he saw made him crack a small smile, his energy returning to him as he led the clients and an annoyed Nanami towards the conference room. 

Taglist: [Now Closed]

@blossomedfloweroflove @numblytemporary @everyoneandtheirmothers @animechick555 @inthedarkshadows000

@m-arj-1 @julk4e @hadassery @swoozleee @angxlsatvrn

@v1x3n @s-witch-bitch @furgusonn @watyousayin @thechaoticarchivist

@simp-manhwa @5sos-wdw @ffyona1214 @phantombaby @evangel44xxcds

@ukiyodestiny @jasminelee324 @eurydxceorphxus @moonlightazriel @s3rp3ntsssc0ve

@dusty-dweller @wifenanami @bokuatsubro @ayesayman @starry-eyed--dreamer

[elizabeaufort]

⸻ Elizabeth wishes she could forgive her mother the same way she accepted her father. The truth is she could not force herself to change overnight. It is too kind of her own part, to allow this woman to talk to her, and be present in her life again. It was funny, that Claude never talked about his wife when she left them. In fact, he let his own daughter make her own opinion about her mother. ⏤ Her grey-bluish hues met her gaze again. The younger Aussie still finds it suspicious that her mother is back after all those years. Either, she is giving the benefit of the doubt… Interesting. ❛ We have plenty of time together until you flee again. ❜ She doesn't know how long her mother plans to stay, no matter what the woman says, she still won't believe it.

The financial topic… The truth is the younger blonde is a bit detached from material things. She contents with small, perhaps because all her life or the beginning of it, she had had nothing. And she went through a lot of financial struggles. One could get used to a life of comfort easily, meanwhile, Liz was taking time to adjust to a life of luxury. ❛ People didn't judge because you were older to start over? ❜ She inquired quietly, curious to know how she handled it. In truth, Elizabeth wasn't so sure if she had the patience to back to her studies, and mixed with unsure about what she truly wanted to do. Perhaps, it was the main reason why she wanted to avoid this topic.

She loves arts, singing, dancing, and acting… Having the little family she has makes things a bit complicated. ⏤ The question about her father, caught her a bit off guard. Worry as she may be for her own father's sanity ( the one he lacks, truth be told ) . ❛ After you were gone, Papa started to drink even more and use other things. He didn't have another child. In a way, he isolates himself from people, even me. I met a few women, but I supposed it was his one-night stands. He spent too much time with his plants. It was kind of rare to see him with other women. He never brought them home. He used to call his friends. Sometimes, his best friend used to take me out to stay with him when Papa wasn't doing great. He would give me cookies and milk, and let me watch cartoons on his TV. Sometimes UFC.❜ She explained, a little of a glimpse of how everything begins to go south.

Liz in part blames her mother for her father's loss of once and all his sanity. There were things in her father's past he didn't share. She tried to pry, but he would never say anything. ❛ I'm sorry about that. ❜ The younger blonde refers to being trapped in an unhappy marriage.

──the question shouldn’t surprise her, they have only just started to get to know one another and it is only expected Lizzie will have questions, perhaps still some residue hostility towards her, too, despite choosing to allow her to be in her life and get to know her after all those years of her being absent.

“for you…” she nodded, faintly, reaching out to tuck a golden lock behind her ear, offering a weak smile. it wasn’t a lie; she had thought of her Lizzie, of how she would have been a better mother to her if money had never been an issue —but she had always blamed Claude for the outcome and her running away; there had been times she had caught herself thinking of him too while looking at her second husband, but she wasn’t ever going to admit that. she shook her head. “don’t worry, we have a lot of such talks to have and you need time to get to know me,” her hand fell by her side as her daughter averted her eyes. “and I, you, of course…” which, didn’t seem unlikely, not given how they were able to chat like they had been friends before and now they were catching up; sharing their news and latest gossips, the important events of heir lives.

as the topic shifted to financial matters, which is always a sensitive topic for Stella given her love for material things, as well as money on its own, she made sure to advise her daughter properly —excitement could cloud her judgment, as it had once happened to her, and she didn’t want her to regret a decision because it would cause financial insecurity and struggles; even if she was willing to help her. but she accepted her daughter’s limit and decided not to press further than what Liz was comfortable with. especially not in regards to what she wanted to do in terms of working and being independent. “it’s never too late, is all I want to say,” she added in a soft tone. “I went back to university a year after leaving from here, and I was already almost in my thirties.” the difference was that she didn’t have any kids back at home, and Liz would soon have four of them —still, should she want to, she could make it work.

“did Claude have any other kids?” had he been in a long-term relationship with another? she wanted to ask, but didn’t; she wouldn’t allow her curiosity to take the best of her. “I never had another child,” she smiled, weakly, “and I am glad because I had loathed my second husband.” it was only fair to give her daughter a little glimpse into her past, too, just as she had opened up to her about hers.

[larissa-the-scribe]

Tell Me About This Time Loop, Again?

And so it begins... @inklings-challenge

Day 12

In Zo's mind, it never felt like the day was properly begun until Lyn woke up, looked around at the room they'd been staying in, frowned, and said—

Day 13

"Where are we? And why does it feel so... familiar?"

"Well you see," Zo replied, as he always did, peeking at the underside of the egg he was frying, "we're stuck in a time loop."

Day 14

"A time loop?" Lyn swung her feet over the side of the bed, seeming to realize for the first time that she was in one.

"Don't worry, it's clean." After confirming they were, indeed, in a time loop, one of the first things he had suggested was finding a comfortable place to set up camp. Somehow it had worked, and they had ended up there every time things reset. "And there doesn't seem to be anyone around, so I don't think we're stealing or trespassing." 

Lyn raised an eyebrow. 

Day 15

"Well, we might be, but no one minds. It's a ghost town. Everyone seems to have disappeared." And since it was a time loop, they never ran out of cooking gas. Or food supplies. That, at least, was convenient. 

"Disappeared?" Lyn stood up, adjusting her shirt from how it had gotten scrunched up in the night. Despite her attempts to look bright-eyed and alert, he could see the sleepiness that still hung from her eyes. 

Day 16

"Our best guess so far is that it's connected to the time loop." Zo flipped the eggs. If this all persisted, he could open up a fried-egg restaurant once they got out; he was getting an absurd amount of practice flipping eggs.

"That makes sense." Lyn padded over to the window, still barefoot, and pushed the shutters open. "Do we have any evidence, or is that just, well, a guess?" 

Her gaze swept the view, which he knew without looking was nothing more than the empty lines of blocky, one-story buildings and the too-smooth black-top of the streets. The neighborhood was pressed together as if sheltering from the plains beyond the town, with such a veneer of newness covering it all that each house might have been churned out of a factory yesterday. They hadn't been, though, considering the subtle signs of wear and tear inside the houses. 

"Eh, a bit of both. Something weird is clearly going on with the area, and we know time is affected, too, so it's a logical guess that the two are connected. Whether that means some psycho wiped the town out before setting up their experiment, or just that their timey-wimey dealybob messed up physics in general is still up for debate. Do you want toast?"

"Yes, please."

Day 17

"Good. We have to finish the bread before it goes stale." Zo left the 'in case we get to the next day' implicit.

"I'm surprised we still have butter. I thought it would have gone bad in your pack."

"It smells a bit odd, but so far we haven't been affected by it."

Day 18

"Okay, but how do you know we're in a time loop?" Lyn asked, setting the table. 

They were in a ground-level studio apartment, so the dining room, kitchen, and bed were all in the same space. No couch, which Zo took to mean that the owner was either poor or a cheapskate. Either way, it was disappointing. Still, the carpet wasn't bad. He'd slept on worse.

"Because you've asked me that so many times I've lost track of the number," Zo said, "and you seem thoughtful every time, like you're not as surprised as you thought you'd be." 

She nodded and set a fork down carefully, wearing the expression she always did just then, brows squeezing down over far-away eyes.

"In all fairness, though," Zo clarified, "I mostly lost track because I wasn't really counting, and then it seemed pointless to start. It's been over two weeks, though, I'm fairly certain."

Day 19

She smiled, and the tension in her brows eased a bit. "This all does feels familiar. Like, I don't remember the other days, but all of this feels like I should, somehow, know what happens next. But I don't."

"I do know," Zo replied, "and it's getting a bit tiresome."

"Fair."

Zo nodded, slotting toast into the toaster. "Very. Whoever owned this place pretty much only had eggs in their fridge. I'm not sure how many more days in a row I can eat those without losing my mind."

Lyn looked up sharply.

Day 20

"Relax," he said, waving his spatula, "they respawn every day, so I don't think it's even technically stealing. If it is, we can pay them back later. There's a fully-stocked but unmanned convenience store down the road, one which we have very nobly not taken anything from, every single day."

"Good," Lyn sighed. "After all, if we get out today, we wouldn't want to be rewarded by jail for petty theft." She tacked on a fierce look at the end of the sentence.

Zo shrugged, and let Lyn interpret the gesture as she would. "Eggs are almost done."

Day 21

"Good. I'm weirdly hungry. Also, thank you for breakfast."

"Don't mention it," Zo smiled. "It's nothing I haven't done many times before."