#i wonder if she ever saw the play he definitely would have taken her

[betterbooktitles]

"I’m certain I’m not the only millennial who feels we as a nation have taken a dizzying turn when it comes to drugs. I remember a uniformed police officer showing up once a week in 5th Grade (a year before Sex Ed) to explain how to avoid buying and taking drugs. Luckily, I already knew the dangers of the drug trade because I had seen The Usual Suspects. I knew cocaine was a bad thing to buy, sell, or steal, especially from a drug kingpin. The D.A.R.E. program, however, let me know how important it was to say no to anything fun, including alcohol. At least until I understood a little algebra first. We did role-playing exercises where we walked one by one toward the portly police officer and he casually asked if we wanted to hit a mimed joint with him. All we had to do was say “no” and walk to the other side of the room, defying the only rule I knew about improv. We wrote essays about how important it was to preserve our pristine bodies and minds, obviously unsullied since we had yet to take the class teaching us how puberty was going to defile them both. I’m still mad that my friend Nicole’s essay beat mine in a contest, and she got to read hers in front of the whole school all because she had the benefit of an older brother who took too much acid and sat in her room all night talking about why the existence of light proved God was real. My essay about a time I saw my friend’s dad drink a beer and then drive his truck somewhere was also good! We signed pledges to enter the new millennium drug-free. We took the red pencils that said “Friends Don’t Let Friends Do Drugs” and sharpened all of them down to say “Let Friends Do Drugs,” “Friends Do Drugs,” “Do Drugs,” and simply “Drugs.” Despite that little rebellious act, my friends and I spent a solid six months swearing we’d never put any harmful substance into our bodies besides every form of candy available.

Imagine how I feel now as a D.A.R.E. graduate becoming my dad’s drug dealer. It’s less thrilling than I thought it would be. Between my father’s warning not to hang around one specific neighborhood in Cleveland as a kid and nearly every TV show about drugs, I thought I’d always be buying marijuana from an intimidating dude who definitely had a gun and would use it immediately if he thought I was wearing a wire. Instead, I now buy marijuana from a well-lit storefront that looks like the Apple Store. I’ve even gone to a place where a guy with an iPad explained what each available strain would do to me. I buy what sounds good with all the confidence of a man pointing at items on a menu written in a language he can’t read. I put it all in a cardboard box. I place a book on top. I mail the box to my dad from my local post office. I tell myself the book is to hide the contraband crossing state lines, but in truth, the book is what clears my conscience. I want to send my dad something edifying while also sending him the drug that all of America worried would make me unable to read if I tried it once. The unrequested book is a red herring to distract from the vice, like when you were young and didn’t want to buy condoms outright at the store so you cushioned them between a pack of peanut M&Ms and a magazine. Hmm, what else did I need, — right, while I’m here — might as well pick up a few condoms.

Right as marijuana becomes legal in most states, I’m about done with the drug. I’ve had three good times on edibles, and one of them was when I felt nothing and fell asleep at 9:30 PM. I’m flabbergasted that my dad likes edibles. He seems to be a man free of anxiety. Case in point, I once brought him some THC lozenges to our summer holiday in Chautauqua, and around dinner time I told him “You might want to only take half of what I gave you” to which he replied, “I took it hours ago.” He was stoned and no one noticed.

While I’m stuck in my head, stoned or sober, wondering why I didn’t take some acting gig 15 years ago, wondering if I’ll ever make enough money, worrying I’m doing everything wrong including in this moment as I write this sentence, my dad is enjoying himself.

Judith Grisel, the author of Never Enough: The Neuroscience And Experience of Addiction, describes using marijuana as throwing “a bucket of red paint” on your brain. She was approaching the stimulant clinically in terms of how it differed from the laser focus of other drugs (THC reacts with many receptors in the brain, cocaine focuses on one), but now every time I smoke, I think of the red paint metaphor. While other people seem able to crank an entire joint and do insanely complicated stuff like function at their jobs, I am reduced to a gelatinous blob, on top of which my eyes and brain are navigating a dream state that, like many dreams, isn’t all that interesting the next day. Mostly, I get high and can’t decide what I want to watch on TV or what video game I want to play, I realize how hungry I am, and then I fall asleep with cereal still stuck to my teeth. Pot, for me, is like the squid ink hitting the screen in Mario Kart: I can still see where I’m going, but everything gets a little harder to do, and the panicked half-blindness makes everything slightly more chaotically fun."

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Other articles include:

An essay on Claire Dederer's book Monsters and movies made by monsters.

Writing inside a Toyota Service Center.

Writing mistresses.

[ooffmlsorry]

Hold Me Closer

Law x reader

2.4k words, slow burn for a tumblr post i guess??

A/N: Law is such a touch-starved disaster in this god bless him. Don't worry...this is my last drunk post. I don't wanna accidentally promote alcoholism on this good Christian hellsite I just need to write my fav blorbo drunk and in love once and then I'm good.

CW: drinking, drunk behavior

"You know, for as smart as Law is you really can manipulate him into just about anything," Nami says. "He's no better than Luffy, as soon as you tell him he can't do something he has to go and try it."

"Huh?" You're drunk, and by the look of the Straw Hat's navigator significantly more so than her. (What are the Straw Hats' livers made out of? Steel?)

You follow your gaze to your captain, Trafalgar Law, and feel a giddy bubble of laughter make its way through you. "I'm just happy to see him cut loose for once," you say. From the looks of it he might actually be tipsy. Law’s cheeks are flushed a little and he’s talking animatedly about something. The shine in his eyes captivate you. 

Yeah, you're definitely feeling the effects if you're openly giggling at the sight of him.

Despite your last thought you take another sip of your drink. It stopped tasting sweet and sharp a while ago and is starting to taste more and more like I should be next to him.

"He's so beautiful when he's happy," you mutter.

"What?!" Nami presses her hand flush to her chest and turns to look at you. A mischievous grin passes over her tipsy face, "beautiful, huh?" She pokes your side playfully and giggles. "What's that supposed to mean?”

"Nothing!" You flinch away from her and drain your drink to quench your suddenly dry mouth. "You like seeing Luffy happy! It's the same thing!"

She laughs so loud and so hard she nearly falls out of her chair. "Oh yeah! Sure! But have you ever heard me call Luffy beautiful?"

At that exact moment you watch Luffy snort with laughter and shoot beer out of his nose. 

"Point taken.”

“He’s not my type, that’s for sure,” Nami says.

“No, your type is Alabastan princesses,” you tease back. 

“Hey!” Her ears pink a little more. “It’s not…” she stammers. “You know what! You’re getting me my next drink just for that!” She pushes her empty mug towards you. “Chop! Chop, Y/N! I’m thirsty!” 

You roll your eyes. It’s true all the Straw Hats are bossy in one way or another, no wonder they exhaust Law. You grab her mug and yours and head to the bar for another round.

Your eyes move back to where you last saw Law talking with someone, except he wasn’t there anymore. Where did he go? The room’s crowded with people talking and laughing, yelling and singing. Between the alcohol and another raucous round of Binx’s Sake sung across the banquet, it’s hard to focus. Did he leave already? Disappointment washed over you, but you weren’t surprised. That would be your captain, Trafalgar Law, ever restrained. 

You sighed. Hopefully he didn’t go back to the ship to get more work done. You fill up yours and Nami’s cup and start to head back to your seat. 

“You’re drinking poison, you know that Y/N-ya?” 

You nearly jump out of your skin at the hot breath against the shell of your ear. Then, you process what was said to you. Poison? Instinctively you reach for a weapon, and then remember you left it behind. 

“What? Law—” 

Barely have room to turn around, he’s standing so close to you. The flush in cheeks is darker than you realized and his dark eyes have lost some of their sharpness. A mischievous smirk plays upon his lips. “And you tell me I need to lighten up?” You’re not met with the level of seriousness you normally expect from your captain. “This,” he holds his mug up, only nearly sloshing its contents, “is poison. It’s the ethanol. That’s what slows you down, it’s not all that different from slowly poisoning yourself.” He puts the cup up to his lips and tips it back. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, the muscles of his neck visible to you until they disappear into his collar bones. You wish you could run your fingers down the column of his throat and watch goosebumps rise in your wake. If he would even have anyone.

It must be the drinks. That’s the only reason you can think of to explain why you want to place your hand there and feel his skin. To touch him. 

“Neither of us should be drinking this, Y/N-ya,” he says. There’s no sterness in his tone like he would if he was lecturing you, in fact, you realize your captain’s likely joking with you…in his own way. 

“Well, sometimes you have to die a little to live a little.” You wink at him. 

Law’s lips part a little and his eyes widen. “I–You–” He looks away from you and takes another sip. “That’s your justification? Ridiculous.”

“It sure is!” You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you take a small step closer, deciding to tease him a little. After all, he started it first by sneaking up on you, “what’s yours?”   

Law stares at you—speechless. 

“You’re something else, you know that?” You don’t have time to hide your laughter except behind your hand. “You don’t need to justify yourself, Law. I’m just happy you’re here!” 

Warmth spreads across your captain’s face. It travels up to the tips of his ears which look crimson next to his spotted white hat and down his chest to the heart tattoo that rests there. For a moment you fixate on his skin, the ink swirling across it, the blood pumping underneath, a sign that he’s alive and solid, standing in front of you. Curiosity rears its untameable head, how can you know he’s solid if you’ve never touched him? A missing piece of Law sits in front of you and you want. 

“Just don’t drink too much,” he says quickly and side steps to walk around you. 

You watch him go, shaking your head with a smile. “I would say, hope he does the same, but it’d be funny if he didn’t.” 

“Y/N!!” Nami calls. “Where’s my drink!?”

“Coming!” 

Later…

Oh yeah, you’ve done it now. Somewhere between fruitlessly trying to keep up with Nami, drowning your thoughts of Law, and enjoying the party, you’re certain you’ve overdone it…and you’ve only accomplished the latter. 

“That’s enough or I’m gonna die,” you stand up and your head swims. You use the chair you were sitting in to stablize yourself. 

“Boo!” Shachi says weakly. Although his head is resting on the table, barely awake.

“Yeah, Boo!” Nami repeats.“Who’s gonna watch me drain your crew of all their money?!” 

 You shrug,“Bepo will.”

The first mate of the Heart Pirates was laid out on the floor asleep. 

“Any chance you know where Law is?” 

“Last I saw him, he went outside,” Penguin says. He grins and laughs a little before slipping out of his chair with a thud.

Safe to say the Heart Pirates were a crew of light weights. 

You stumble toward the door that leads out to the balcony. Outside the night air is cold enough to send a shiver through you, but Penguin didn’t send you out there for nothing. Law is sitting with his legs between the balcony bars, his head leaning on another. In the light of paper lanterns you saw his hand moving in quick small movements. Next to him sat an empty bottle of umeshu.

“Either you’re jacking off out here or you’re working. Only one of those things would be disappointing to me,” you say. In the back of your mind you know you’d never say something like that out loud but alcohol makes your lips loose. 

The sound Law makes is less than controlled as he jerks a book shut and sits on it. “NEVER SAY THAT AGAIN!”  

You start laughing and fall down next to him unceremoniously, nearly landing flat on your back. “I’m sorry, captain! I couldn’t–I couldn’t help myself!” you howl with laughter. “Please! I didn’t–the joke was just right there!” 

You hear Law grumble-slur something, but he’s either too drunk or too tired to get up and leave you because he stays where he is. 

“I mean it,” you say, catching your breath. “I am sorry. I just came out here to tell you I think the party’s dying down. You can come inside if you want to. It’s only supposed to get colder tonight.” 

“I will when I’m ready,” Law slurs. 

“As always,” you sigh heavily. “I’ve learned to stop expecting you to do something just because I think it’s a good idea

That wins you a brief smile from your captain, a rarity, surely brought out of him by the drink alone. “You…you can stay,” he says quietly. “If you’d like to. I don’t care either way. Really, I don’t. ” 

Normally, you’d at least begin to believe him, but you know your captain…and he’s already draped half of his long blue coat around you. The scent cologne and antiseptic envelope you. 

“You probably should’ve said that before you put your coat around me, Law.” 

He tenses for a moment. The brim of his hat hides his eyes. “Forgive me, Y/N-ya I’m being ridiculous,” he mumbles.

So shy! 

“I was going to stay anyway,” you say, before he can pull away. “And thank you, I’m probably chillier than I know.” 

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while connected only by this moment and Law’s coat draped over both of you. You can feel the warmth radiating from his arm, his side, his thigh, all nearly touching you. 

“Did you have a good time?” 

“As long as I don’t remember any of this tomorrow, you can tell me I did.” 

“Good!” You chirp. “I’ll take it!” 

Law picks up the bottle and takes a long pull. “Did you?” 

“Yup! It’s the first party I’ve been to in a long time. Actually, I haven’t been to any, but that’s another story from before…well, everything.” 

Law snorts, but he doesn’t turn back to leaning his head on the guard bars, instead he stares at you with an expression close to contentment. “Good,” he says. 

Your faces stay a few inches from each other. There’s an eyelash resting on his cheek, just out of your reach and before you can think you gently cup your captain’s face and swipe the eyelash away. 

In an instant he’s solid. Smooth skin and bone rest just below your fingertips. And somehow, despite the sharp angles of Law’s face all you feel is softness and warmth against your skin. To your surprise he doesn’t move away. 

“I’m sorry, you just had an eyelash…” You go to pull your hand back and Law catches your wrist in a grip that’s nearly too tight.

His eyes flutter as he rests his face in your hand. “It feels so nice,” he says. He doesn’t stop you when you slide your fingers up his sideburns into the silky spikes of his hair. You remove his hat and place it beside him. 

Contact between you and Law has been minimal, even after you explained your devil fruit only works on inanimate objects. You think he’s been especially cautious around you not to touch you–even if by accident. Touch doesn’t come easy to you, unconsciously building a wall between yourself and others, with Law being the same that wall felt doubly thick. Only to come crashing down over drinks and an errant eyelash. Touching Law plugs a hole dug out of both want and curiosity that you’ve been ignoring.

Law leans into you as if being pulled down by magnetism until he’s almost on top of you. Your thumb settles behind his ear along the nape of his neck and rubs back and forth slowly. 

You look down at him, his eyes shut and lips barely parted. If it weren’t for the fingers working up the back of your shirt, you’d think he was asleep. Law’s hand stops at the small of your back, resting there like a warm patch. It feels so utterly right having the captain of the Heart Pirates in your arms, as if holding Law was one of the many things they were made for. 

Honesty takes over you. “I think I like being close to you, Law. It feels…warm…good,” you speak softly. If you could be like this all the time you wouldn’t complain. You receive a throaty rumble in response, not unlike a purring animal. “You must be drunk,” you chuckle.

“Extremely.” 

You’re not sure if you feel like you’re spinning from all the alcohol or because of this moment with Law. Eventually you begin to hum softly, and sleep begins to take hold of you. 

“Y/N-ya,” you hear Law say groggily. 

You hum a sound in response to show you’re still awake to listen to him. Law’s arms tighten around you and you understand instantly what he won’t let himself say. Against both your better judgment you drift off to sleep together on the balcony.  

The Next Morning…

Law awakens to dawn’s blinding sun and a pounding headache. His mouth feels cottony and his stomach roils in a way that doesn’t immediately threaten vomit but could. The second thing he takes in is that he’s outside; he never made it to his bed or any bed for that matter. And third, you. 

You’re still asleep, your chin nearly touching your chest and soft snore escaping you with every exhale. You don’t stir as he pulls himself away from you. The realization that he slept on you rocks through him. The sun’s barely risen and his heart’s already racing.

What did I do? 

He rubs at his eyes and scrubs a hand through his hair. Where’s my hat? He quickly finds it and pulls the brim down low enough to block the sun. 

Law takes off his jacket and covers you with it, only when he’s wrapped it around your shoulders do you grumble and smack your lips sleepily. “Don’t worry, Law. All’s good, had fun,” you mumble. 

He freezes. Out of everything he thought you would say, reassuring him didn’t cross his mind. 

Your eyes crack open just enough to look at his stunned face. “Yesterday’s already forgotten.” Loose limbed, you make a sealed lips gesture as if to say your secret's safe with me. 

Law stands and grabs his journal. He takes one more glance at you and feels butterflies flutter from his stomach up to his chest. That's the second time he's felt safe around you, he notes. It's information he chooses to ignore.

[rellsingsovern]

In my notes during this whole season I’ve kept track of loose ends and just other plot points I think could make for a great senior year (which now seems likely that we will get down the line in the future) and this finale gave me almost everything I wanted and more so here’s what I think we’re gonna see (plus things that I just rly want to see lol)

-first and foremost, BARON IS STILL IN RIZ’S BRIEFCASE!!! the spectral mordred manor probably is not there as that was a haven sent out by cassandra during all the divine interventions in falinell and the bad kids dove in as a last second decision, but baron is still definitely there. ‘I am somewhere always close to Riz Gukgak’ and while everyone’s journey with their sexuality happens on their own time and Riz shouldn’t have to come out if he doesn’t want to yet, now that he’s coming to terms that his friends might not always be together in the way he wants to I think it would be healing for him to fully confront and accept his aro aceness and have support with that and realize that even if they can’t be physically together his friends won’t leave him for other relationships

-Fabian is getting a new baby sibling, but that is not the only sibling he’s ever had. James Whitlaw made references to his half siblings from Bill that he killed and ate, I am POSITIVE that at least one is still out there and probably has it out for Fabian (as Bill married Hallariel, raised Fabian, and dragged his ship into solace to give him a new life) and an arc where Fabian has to defend himself against an older sibling while growing to love his younger would be amazing to see

-kalina, bakarath, bobby, and buddy ofc, I’ve been wondering where kalina has been this whole time, and I want to see more of bobby getting what he deserves. Cassandra’s been through a fucking lot this season but her familiar apparently might be a big bad along with arianwen again so sorry cass but the cat’s gotta go. she still directly got pok killed riz deserves to hunt her down and avenge him a second time

-speaking of, Arianwens been making moves in sylvaire! Adaine and aelwyn will surely kill her but from the looks of it even though she got her magic taken away she may have some sort of power. Cant wait for these sisters to be able to live immortal lives without their parents looming over them

-BUCKY APPLEBEES!! bucky, a paladin of cassandra, gathering the courage to ask Kristin for help getting bricker and cork out of the Applebees residence, maybe moving into mordred and everyone immediately being enamored with these cute little boys who honestly might turn out to be mumple instead of wanting to attend the adventuring academy and Kristin being so happy they aren’t being raised in a pressure cooker anymore and affected like she and bucky were affected, happy that they can be normal kids (and in being around Kristin’s other sisters, adaine and fig, Kristin ends up getting that sister she always wanted in bucky too)

-I’m so happy Fig is getting what she wants and realizing she doesn’t want to finish Aguefort, and it would be awesome if she got a new character and the bad kids took on a new party member for the year played by Emily so all the intrepid heroes are still together, but Fig could be hanging out between mordred and Seacaster and leviathan and Hell, writing music and helping Kristin spread word of the cassandra/Ankarna pantheon through it, and since in sophomore year we saw Penelope dayne daybreak and Johnny spells all kicking it in hell maybe Jace (who ik was a minion mostly but hey he could be evil on his own) is down there with some other bad kid nemeses

-more Galicea and Sol. Sol canonically was all for bringing Ankarna into the pantheon of himself, his sister galicea, his other sister cassandra, and his son helio. It was Sol’s followers who saw Ankarna brought in as another god of the sun and brought about the ruin and corruption of Ankarna alongside the house of sunstone in order to get more power for themselves with just the one solar deity existing. Both Sol and Galicea (and maybe helio) have been hardcore shaped by their followers, Galiceas wolfish side being repressed by the high elf state of falinell and being brought back through wolfsong, and Sol with the human clerics of highcourt scheming to make him the only god with a sun domain despite him officiating and welcoming Ankarna as his sister in law through the marriage. Plus if we get galicea arcs we defo get Kristin and tracker messy lesbians arcs

-Gorgug perfecting his new subclass he invented and Kristin enjoying being student body president! She deserves it, I hc that the only academic sort of thing Kristin cared about before this year was the lgbtq+ club and now she’s extending that energy into everything with the help of Riz, who cannot get off of coffee someone help this poor boy. And since Ragh and shellford have graduated I want more Torek Railgrinder, she’s so cool let’s flesh her out more. Gorgug thinking about how to teach other multiclass barbarian/artificers and perfecting all his awesome inventions (and dating both Unit and Mary Ann bc it’s what his poly ass deserves)

Basically the potential plot I see for senior year is almost a mirror of sophomore year: baron getting out and fighting Riz and the bad kids defeating him for good, the bad kids heading to leviathan after hearing rumors of a pirate calling themselves a child of Bill Seacaster looking for Fabian, heading to falinell to see what’s new with wolfsong and tracker and maybe seeing some changes in Galicea or Sol, heading to hell and meeting up with Fig for a portion (she doesn’t go to their school anymore! she ain’t gotta go on this senior year spring break quest!) who’s been hanging out in hell, tracking Jace and other enemies, establishing her power as an archdevil of the first layer of hell, writing awesome music, and finally back to sylvaire to figure out what the fuck is up with kalina and arianwen and this weird new god buddy has and they all graduate and head their separate ways but they still love each other and see each other all the time they’re family and they’re badass and they’re perfect

[milaisreading]

She likes a boy?

Warnings: Reader uses she/her, and so does Sae. This is a fem x fem fanfic, so if you do not like these sort of fanfics, move along. Reader is implied to be bisexual, btw. Hope whoever reads this, likes it. Requests are open

⚽️Blue lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

"Isn't he cool?! And the way he plays on the field is always so breathtaking to watch!" (Y/n) blushed as she watched her high school football team practice. Sae, who was standing next to her let out a silent sigh and leaned against the railing, sending (Y/n) a few glances, her eyes softening as she gazed at the older Isagi. She really couldn't understand what (Y/n) saw in that guy. Oliver Aiku was possibly the most obnoxious guy she had the displeasure to meet, and he was a player as well. Sae didn't want her friend to get hurt.

'It's not just that...' The red-haired girl gulped as (Y/n) left her side to talk with Aiku during the team's short break. The all too familiar feeling of jealousy creeping up on her as she watched the smile on (Y/n)'s face... a smile Sae was all too familiar with.

'I am completely in love with her. And I could definitely treat her way better than he could. Why was I born a girl even?!' Sae sighed in frustration, glaring at Aiku as he waved at her.

'That bastard! Why is focusing on me when and angel like her is blessing his presence! (Y/n), why can't you see he is not the right guy for you?' Sae gulped down a few tears. She really wanted to be happy for her friend, and she would have been if it wasn't Aiku of all people who stole her attention.

'He so far cheated on every girlfriend he was with. Please don't date him...' Sae silently begged to herself as she watched the two part ways.

"Sorry that I ran off like that! Should we go and get some food? It's a Friday, anyway." (Y/n) suggested, earning a quick nod from Sae.

"I would be more than happy to."

'At least I can still be her friend and love her from afar.' Sae smiled warmly as she felt (Y/n) softly grab her wrist. I was something the other girl used to do when they were younger as she was a timid child, much like her younger brother, Yoichi.

"Alright then! It's my treat-"

"Nope~ I will pay. You paid last time." Sae interrupted her from speaking further.

"No but!" (Y/n) blushed a little as Sae poked her nose.

"Meanie."

"You are cute~" The redhead chuckled as (Y/n)'s face turned a deeper shade of red.

"Shut up." The girl said,her own heartbeat quickening a little.

'Sae...' (Y/n) thought, looking at the slightly taller girl.

The same night, with (Y/n)...

'Oliver or Sae... Oliver or Sae... who is it?' The (h/c) haired girl wondered as she sat on her bed. Her own emotions, unknown to Sae, were completely all over the place for the past 6 months. While she did have a crush on Oliver ever since their first year in hight school, she recently noticed the growing attachment and yearning she felt towards her best friend. (Y/n) wasn't stupid, she knew what her feelings were. She loved both of them very much, but she knew she couldn't have both. They deserved way more than an indecisive person in their lives. So, tonight (Y/n) decided to finally put an end to all of this, she had to! All of this was taking a toll on her as well, she just wanted to finally have everything sorted out. Although it might have been a stupid idea, (Y/n) had taken a notebook and written down all the things she liked about both Sae and Oliver, and that didn't help her indecisiveness at all.

'I am even more set back than I already was...' The girl thought, throwing the notebook away as she leaned against her bedframe.

"Sae or Oliver... Sae or Oliver... Who should I confess to even?" She mumbled, the familiar ball of anxiety in her stomach making itself known, again, her heart beat quickening the more she thought about either of them.

"Hmmm... I will let fate decide..." (Y/n) mumbled, getting off of her bed and walking towards her desk where her wallet was.

"There it is..." She smiled as she found a one yen coin, taking it out with a shaky hand.

'Head is Sae... Tail will be Oliver.' She decided as she flipped the coin. After a few seconds, she caught the item and put it on the back of her hand. (Y/n)'s breathing grew uneven as she looked at item that was still covered up by her hand.

"Just uncover it, you coward. You promised to solve this tonight." She told herself, slowly removing her hand from the coin. Her eyes slowly widening in disbelief as she saw which side won.

"Wow...I..."

Meanwhile, with Sae...

"Sis, you have been gloomy the whole week. What happened now?" Rin raised an eyebrow as he stood at the entrance of Sae's room, the girl only giving him an eyeroll.

"Are you really asking me that? You of all people are should know by now."

"Is it about (Y/n) again? Why don't you just tell her how you feel?" Rin raised am eyebrow.

"Are you insane?" Sae asked, looking at Rin like he had two heads now.

"I don't want to ruin my friendship with her. I know she doesn't love me like that. No matter how much I want to believe she does, it isn't reality." Sae sighed sadly, earning a sympathetic look from Rin.

"How would you know? She may as well keep those things hidden from you like you ar-"

"Rin, she likes a boy. She is in love with a boy. I know that. I see that every day. I am forced to endure all the talks about how Oliver is this and that! It pisses me off, but I can't do anything about that. She loves a boy, and I am not a boy." Sae said, wiping away a few tears as she felt all the memories rush back to her. Just before Rin could say anything back, Sae's phone rang and she quickly accepted the call when she saw it was (Y/n).

"Are you alright? Why are you calling so late?" The redhead asked in worry. Rin watched in confusion as his sister's face morphed from worry to surprise to relief as she got up from her bed.

"Sure! I will be there quick. The park isn't too far from me." Sae answered as she ended the call and took a nearby jacket.

"Where are you going?" Rin asked in worry as Sae rushed past him.

"(Y/n) needs me! I will be at the nearby park!"

"Now?! It started snowing!" Rin yelled after her.

"I don't care!"

"Now I know! Now I finally know..." (Y/n) told herself as she quickly ran down the street. The moment she saw tail had won and the disappointment that had settled in her, she knew that Sae was the one she wanted to win, not Oliver.

'Sae... it was her all along! I am so happy to finally know! I will confess now and see if she likes me the same way!' (Y/n) thought as a nervous smile took over her face, completely ignoring the cold of the November night. Entering the small park where her and Sae first met, (Y/n) felt a blush take over her face as she saw the said girl.

"Sae!" The older Isagi yelled, catching the redhead's attention. Sae felt like her heart was about to explode when she saw the other girl qukckly approach her.

"(Y/n)..." Sae mumbled, watching as she slowly came to a stop, taking a few deep breaths in front of Sae.

"What did you need me for?" Sae asked softly after a while when she saw that (Y/n) calmed down a little. The shorter girl looked around the park nervously, then slowly grabbed one of Sae's hands into hers. This action surprised Sae a little and she felt her heartbeat go out of control as she gazed into her eyes.

"(Y/n)..."

"I... this might sound weird, and you can say no, I don't mind." The girl started as Sae kept quiet.

"I... I am in love with you... I have been so unsure with my own feelings the whole time, but I know now for sure. You are the one I love. I love everything about you, Sae Itoshi. I... I hope you don't hate me for this." Sae felt her whole world stop for a moment. These words were not things she expected to hear out of (Y/n).

"You... you mean that?" The redhead stuttered out, moving closer to (Y/n).

"Yes! I love your intelligence, your laugh, your jokes, the way you used to comfort me when I was younger. I love that you never looked at me weirdly when I would admit my fears to you... I... I just live you as a whole." (Y/n) admitted, preparing herself for a rejection. But, to her surprise, she saw a smile appear on her face as Sae softly grabbed her cheeks.

"I love you, too. I always have and always will. I could never hate you." Sae felt her own heart stop as she kissed (Y/n) on her cheek. This was the best day of her life. The person she loved all these years loved her back.

'I couldn't ask for more.' Sae's smile widened as (Y/n) hugged her tightly, burying her face into her shoulder blade.

"I am glad." (Y/n) admitted as Sae hugged her back.

[deputyrook]

Impressions- 5/? Mark Hoffman x Psychic!Reader

PART 1. PART 2. PART 3. PART 4.

You're a psychic. He's a detective. And a serial killer.

(You're a team.)

Word count: 4050

WARNINGS: CORRUPTION, stockholm syndrome, abusive dynamics, general Saw-levels of horror & violence. Reader is drinking the Jigsaw Kool-Aid.

“God, you’re persistent,” you tell Kerry, laying back on your couch and rubbing your temple, “Fine. Yes, I’ll go to therapy and I'll check out the community resources for Jigsaw survivors. Are you happy?”

It's not exactly a lie. You might check out the resources. Kerry's voice crackles across the line in reply: “Good. And if you’re able to remember anything while you’re there-“

Of course. It’s not that she wants you to get help, but rather, she’s hoping that you’ll pick up on some kind of psychic lead from discussing your capture and trauma with a therapist.

A swell of bitterness fills your chest, though you wish it didn't. You’d asked her to come and help you with groceries and chores today, but she’d declined, saying that she was too busy working on the case. Somehow, Mark had been coming around to help more often than she was, and he was balancing his job with being a serial killer.

Kerry’s work has always come first, and her dedication is something you had often admired. The two of you had bonded in university over a shared discomfort at parties and social events. Neither of you had ever quite fit in with the crowd. But even knowing her for as long and as well as you did, it still hurt to know the obsession came before your friendship.

“When are you going to take a break?” You ask, instead of voicing your frustration.

“When I find Eric,” she replies, steadfast. You must make some kind of a critical noise in response, because Kerry adds, “What? Do you believe it’s hopeless? That I should just give up?”

“It’s not that,” you mutter with a sigh, already regretting this line of conversation, but knowing that Kerry won’t give it up until she pulls the truth from you.

“Then what?”

“Just that maybe Matthews shouldn’t have gone and played Cowboy Cop, shooting from the hip.” You finally snap, to Kerry’s stunned silence. “You play stupid games and you win stupid prizes, Ally. If he had just listened to the rules he’d been given-"

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you right now," She says, voice sounding more shocked than angry, "Jigsaw took your eyes, put you through hell, and you’re defending him?” 

“I’m not defending him,” you bite back, wondering if you are, “But Matthews was corrupt. You know that, even I know that. Sometimes, you get what you deserve."

There's a beat of silence over the phone line, and you wonder if you've taken it a step far. It almost surprises you, to hear the words coming from your mouth. A month ago, you wouldn't have believed you would feel this way, but it's true, isn't it?

Matthews had a way out, just like everyone else did. Just like you did. If he hadn't fucked around and found out, he would have been fine.

Your sympathy for the other Jigsaw victims- the other subjects- has become somewhat muted since you became one yourself. Being able to intuit all of their faults in high definition had only dulled it further.

“You think he deserved to be murdered, is that it?" Kerry asks, and if she wasn't angry before, she definitely is now. Thankfully, you know from experience that she tends to anger quickly, and cool off just as fast. "What about you, then? You got tested, too. How the hell can you say it's deserved?”

Because I deserved to be tested, too.

Something about the topic of conversation turning to you causes a vision to spring forward from the recesses of your mind, like it had simply been waiting for the most opportune moment to reveal itself.

You see yourself, standing in what appears to be a shallow pool of water in the middle of a dense forest. It is quiet and still, save for the ripples in the water caused by your movement. You can't hear any animals- the forest is silent.

You look exactly as you remember, save for a few key details- wide, white globes for eyes stare wildly back at you, and you are drenched in the water. You are soaked through and dripping, the water running down your forehead in rivets. On your head, twisted and gnarled, is a crown of some sort. At first, you think it's a crown of branches- fitting for the forest that you've found yourself in- but once you approach and look closer, you realize it's a crown of rusted, jutting metal pieces.

In your hands, you hold out a crumpled piece of paper, one you’ve somehow kept from dissolving in the water. Carefully, you take it from yourself and unfurl it, to see a wrinkled advertisement for a Jigsaw survivor support group.

Interesting. You file that piece of information away for later. Your lips are moving, but you can't hear the words. You lean in, trying to listen. It seems you're repeating something, over and over, mouthing along to an inaudible refrain.

“Hello?” Kerry's voice pulls you out of it.

“I'm sorry,” you reply. Any anger you'd been feeling is gone, shaken out of you, “My head's been all over the place."

"I know," She sighs as well, and you can feel her unspoken apology in return as she continues, "The FBI's getting involved. I've been in contact with one of their agents."

Immediately, you think back to your vision of the two dangerous people- the man and the woman.

"Damn," you remark, before you note, "He's a lot to deal with, isn't he?"

"That's putting it lightly," Kerry huffs, and you can feel her frustration not only at you, but at the FBI agents getting involved before she's been able to find Matthews herself. She feels embarrassed by it, the scrutiny and criticism only mounting the pressure she feels to find an answer, quickly.

"Tell me this," She asks then, weary, "Is everything going to be okay?"

There's a sinking in your stomach, but you lie to her, and say, "I think so."

Your words hand in the air, as if from a hangman's noose.

"Thanks," Kerry replies, and you're not sure if she believes you.

"Hey, Ally?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful out there. Keep your head on a swivel." You feel like you can hear the smile in her voice when she responds to you, though her tone remains grave.

"Always. You too."

---

[11:47AM - Outgoing] Did you know about the FBI getting involved in the Jigsaw case?

[11:48AM - Incoming] no.

[11:48AM - Incoming] fuck.

[11:50AM - Outgoing] That one isn't a vision either, straight from Allison

[11:51AM - Outgoing] But I've seen them, too.

[11:51AM - Outgoing] Two agents I think. They look like trouble.

[11:53AM - Incoming] thanks for the heads up

[11:54AM - Incoming] fbi... what a pain in the ass

[11:55AM - Outgoing] If they start poking around, it could be a lot worse than that

[11:55AM - Outgoing] Be careful

[11:59AM - Incoming] well how about that. you do care.

[11:59AM - Outgoing] Don't let it get to your head

---

The Jigsaw Survivor Support group meeting is held in a church basement. It's the first time you've been in a church for a long time, and the atmosphere feels weighty with the desperate prayers of its inhabitants.

Of course, there isn't an elevator. Down in the cool of the basement, a circle of chairs waits for you, and you get the sense that several men and women already seated when you arrive. Hushed voices quiet to silence as you approach, tapping your cane ahead of you.

"Oh! Hello!" A woman's voice calls out as you approach, nervous but excited. From her tone, you guess that she's an older woman. "You're new! Normally, Dr. Gordon would greet you, but he's actually away this week. He's the one who organized this group."

Doctor Gordon. Why did that name seem to strike a chord of familiarity with you?

You wince as someone takes your arm. You've learned that one major difference about being blind is that strangers are all too willing to touch you, now that they think they're being helpful.

You sure wish that they wouldn't.

The person who grabbed you by the arm leads you further into the room to a chair, "helping" you sit down. They seem a bit offended when you don't thank them, instead setting your cane beside the chair and folding your hands in your lap.

"So? What'd he take from you?" A male voice asks from across the circle, after you've settled into your seat.

"Take a guess," you reply dryly. No one in the room laughs, and you're not sure if it's better or worse that you can't actually see them all, staring and judging you. You clear your throat, and try again. "My ability to see."

"You don't need to talk about it, if you don't want to," the woman placates quickly, a note of admonishment in her tone. "Ned, you can't just ask the new people what was taken them-"

"It's okay," You interrupt, feeling surprisingly calm. Between the woman who had grabbed you, and the man who interrogated you, she had bothered you more than he had, "Not much throws me off, these days."

Reaching out with your senses, you survey the circle. A tangled mess of self-pity and loathing hits you, and you have to keep your lip from curling in a sneer of distaste. These are the survivors? You only get a hit off of one of them that doesn't repulse you- a reluctant, begrudging respect, an acknowledgement that he's made changes in his life that have improved things, since the game that he was in.

Feelings of ownership, control, responsibility- could the Jigsaw games really inspire them? Mostly, it just seemed to have traumatized these people-

These people, who were so miserable and desperate to begin with, their sins writhing inside the marrow of their bones. You have to free the sins, get the them out of the marrow to save them-

Your head throbs. The headaches have lessened considerably since you... refocused your senses, but they hadn't completely disappeared.

Briefly, you itch for a painkiller, but you ignore the craving as best as you can as you listen to each subject in the group introduce themselves.

The only name you fully register is that of the young man who you'd felt the sense of kinship with- Daniel Matthews. Hm. Isn't that ironic?

"I'm still processing everything," you say, after you introduce yourself. "But to be honest... I guess I have been seeing things in a different way."

"I'm sure you've learned to appreciate your life, and be grateful," you can hear the scowl in the man called Ned's voice. You have no idea what his test was, or how he survived, but you can hear the sarcasm in his tone- if someone here is grateful, it isn't him.

You consider the words seriously instead of taking the bait.

Had you?

"I've learned to appreciate the life that I have, rather than the one I used to wish I had," You say. You can feel the attention of the others burning on you, and it makes your skin crawl. Their judgment is like a heavy blanket over the room, and its almost suffocating. But still, the words pour out of you, too honest, too raw.

"I'm the only person who can do what I do, and the only person who can see the world from my perspective. Wishing and hoping for things to be different is pointless- it's pathetic."

No one says anything, so you continue, trying to explain further how you feel. Maybe you hope that you can convince someone here to see their game in a new light. Maybe you just need to say the words have have been stuck in your throat for so long.

"I am who I am. I'm the person I love and the person I hate. Good, bad. It doesn't really matter. I don't care anymore, and I'm so tired of making excuses for being myself."

The room sits in quiet silence, until finally, Daniel Matthews speaks up for the first time in the session.

"But do you know... who that is? Yourself?"

The version of you in your mind's eye- the version from the forest lake with the jagged metal crown- looks at you and grins with teeth.

Your words in response seem to be carried by an incoming chill.

"I think I'm figuring it out."

---

You're not sure what you expected, but a house in the suburbs is not it.

"I'm renovating it, so careful where you step," Mark says, leading you through the front door with a hand on your waist. "Would be a hell of a waste if you died tripping over a brick."

"Hey, you're not allowed to make fun of me for being blind," You reply back, without any real venom. His hand squeezes your waist, playful but dominant.

"Who said anything about you being blind? I was talking about your two left feet." You jab him in the side with your elbow, and he chuckles to himself, pulling you along with him.

It feels altogether domestic- far easier than it has any right to feel. You can imagine a life together, in this home. Taxes and fighting over chores and going on trips. Putting on music as the sun goes down, brewing coffee in the mornings as it rises. You allow yourself the indulgence of it, for just a moment.

The house smells like sawdust and paint, but there's a metallic undercurrent of blood. It's hard to tell if that scent is really there, or if it's just something your mind has picked up on, independent of your objective reality. Mark seems to lead you on forever, around too many corners to count.

There it is again, that sixth sense nagging at you. Something bad happened here. Something bad will happen here. Layers of pain, like the rings in the centre of a tree. You think back to Daniel Matthews, and his nervous, angry energy. So much like his father's, but still so different.

The coffin of glass swallows the target, but he doesn't know what it means. He thinks he is safe inside, but he is wrong. The walls are closing in on him, not his opponent, who is pulled through to the heavens. This isn't how its supposed to happen.

"Is this place a maze? What kind of architect designed this?" You mutter, as Mark stops walking and crouches down beside you. You tap your cane around, noticing a hollow sound ringing from part of the floor.

"Probably John. The layout's a nightmare. But the place is huge. It'll be nice, once its fixed up." Mark responds, and you hear a loud thud. "It's a trap door," he explains.

"Great," You reply, "Always a good sign."

Mark helps you through the trapdoor and down a ladder. Your tentative movements take time, but if he's annoyed by your slow pace, he doesn't complain. Once you're down the ladder, you reach out with your mind's eye, and survey your surroundings.

It is much colder, down here, somehow. Something bothers you about it, like an open sore in the back of the mouth.

"Hey, where are you going?"

You don't realize you're walking away until you hear Mark's voice, calling after you. Something is drawing you in like a beacon. It feels, suddenly, like you're on the cusp of completing something important, something you'd nearly forgotten about.

Drawn through the cold, damp, narrow tunnels, you somehow know instinctively which ways to turn. You don't trip, or run into walls, but keep moving, deeper into the dark. Until finally, you feel yourself stop in front of... something.

Reaching forward, you grasp the bars of a cell.

"Somewhere deep and dark. Low, inside the earth," you echo your words from weeks ago now, and hear a low, guttural groan in response.

Poor Eric Matthews, more animal than man by now.

"Yeah, he's not doing so great," Mark whispers in your ear, having followed after you. You get a brief flash of vision- Mark grabbing Eric by the hair, grown matted and shaggy, and dragging him back as he sobs and claws at the ground. Mark, punching him heavy in the stomach, throwing slop at his feet.

He hated it, at first. Then he grew to relish it.

Pure horror settles in you, uneasy in your stomach.

"Why... keep him?" You ask hollowly, feeling Mark's arm around your waist again, territorial.

"Kramer wants him for the next game," He replies, too quiet for Matthews to hear, "Needs him as an incentive. You know how bad the precinct wants to save him. Hell, it's why you're here in the first place."

"Is someone out there? Help me-" Matthews pleads, his voice broken, "P-please-" Your mouth is dry. You'd been brought in to save this man, and now here he was, begging for help in front of you.

"Huh. So he does remember how to speak," Mark mutters. Part of you wants to reach out, to comfort Matthews, to lie badly to him and tell him it will be alright.

But this is what it is. Open wounds, dirty basements, and pain like the refrain of a prayer. The maw of Hell itself. This is what it means, to be a part of this.

To be partners with Detective Mark Hoffman.

You jump in surprise at a sudden, loud clang- Mark has grabbed your cane, and slammed it against the rusted bars of the cell. You hear whimpering, as Eric Matthews seems to retreat. You take a few steps back, away from the cell, closing your eyes as if it will help.

"It gets easier," Mark tells you, "I know, I know. It's alright to be uncertain. Too feel sick about it. I was at first, too."

You swallow, and nod. He presses his lips to your temple, in a gentle gesture, and continues to soothe you with honeyed words.

"Don't worry. No one's going to find out. You and me, we do this together. We help each other. Right?"

You nod again, and he kisses you, on the lips this time. It's almost forceful, as though by the action alone, he can make you forget your conscience.

"Come on," He says, "Lemme show you the bathroom."

---

Although you've never set foot in this room before in your life, you feel as though you're returning back to a place you grew up in. It has an air of nostalgia about it that's almost uncanny, like a place you've dreamt about a million times, but can't quite map the layout of.

Frankly, it's kind of fucking creepy in here.

The smells of decaying bodies doesn't help. It's unmistakable, almost sweet in its rot, and you clasp a hand over your mouth as you grimace.

"You're renovating, but you couldn't take out the bodies?" You ask, fighting the urge to gag.

"Yeah, let me just carry them to my car," Mark snipes back, and you suppose he has a point. "I don't really come down here. But hey, do your thing." You hear the scrape of a chair, and wonder- is he pulling up a seat?

With a deep breath, you calm your nerves, and try to dial in to your extrasensory perception. The first task you'd been given- find Eric Matthews- has been completed. The second- find the secret apprentice- has not. That's your goal, and the reason you came here. You know that this place has the answers you seek. The walls bleed with them.

You sense Mark, somewhere behind you, curious and sharp. But you need to reach something older. Glass crunches under your boots, and you slowly pace the room, stepping carefully as not to trip over anything.

Then, you catch hold of something. Before you can understand what you're doing, you're crouching in front of one of the bodies, taking his bony, brittle face into your hands. The skin is like tissue paper under your touch.

"Oh, Adam," You murmur to him softly, "How unfair. He didn't follow his own rules for you, did he?"

"Are you... talking to the corpse?" Mark asks, an edge of disgust in his voice.

You ignore him. The corpse doesn't speak, of course, but he answers you in his own way.

"He promised," you hear your voice saying, an echo from a thousand miles away, "He promised he'd come back to save him. A Knight in shining armour. But he never did. He dies down here, missing his mother and wondering if he'll ever see her again. He dies over and over again. He exists as a ghost, haunting the third. The fourth? The secret one, the guilty one, the one who got away."

You hold the skull delicately, with a care not to disturb him. Of course, he's just a body. Just a shell. But before that-

You smell cigarette smoke, hear the click of a camera snapping a shot. Despair, fear, loneliness. Despondency, hope. Bitterness, so much resentment. A cell phone ringing, a hacksaw, tearing into flesh, pain, pain-

"Who was tested in here?" You ask Mark, letting go of the body and standing. The room spins around you, seems to pulse in the darkness. You get the impression of patterns, swirling about- the kind you can read and understand, that you can use to tell the future, if you just focus. You wipe your hands on your pants.

"That guy," Mark replies, presumably pointing to Adam, "We strung up another guy in here at one point. And Matthew's game ended up in here, with the kid and Amanda."

"Who was with Adam?" The answer is so close to you. For some reason, you think of the Jigsaw survivor group, and briefly wonder if the secret apprentice is Daniel Matthews. It partially seems to fit, but your intuition suggests that guess is off base.

"A doctor, I think. We planted his pen light. I think he ended up surviving. What the hell was his name...?" As Mark thinks, the answer comes to you, bold, in flashing neon lights.

"Doctor Gordon," you whisper. You ankle aches in confirmation.

"That was it," Mark replies, and then he pauses. "Him?"

"Him."

"You're sure?"

You see a blonde man, pale and sickly looking, crawling away as blood pours from the stump of his leg. It flows like paint spilling from an overturned tub, until the man presses it to a boiling pipe. Flesh melts and blood coagulates. He survives.

He survives. But he is alone. He has no one else but the ghosts, and the King, omnipotent in his wisdom, sees a subject in the making. A knight to stand guard, to protect the most valuable pieces. To save, when he could not save before.

"I'm sure," You reply, and you are. You hear Mark stand up from his seat.

"What now?" He asks, walking back over to you, "Do we...confront him? Ask Kramer about him?"

It's curious, you think, that he's asking for your opinion now. But you shake your head.

"No," You answer. You've never felt so sure of something in your life. The impressions of the patterns spell out hints to you, show a chessboard with its pieces, ready for play.

"No, we sit on this. We'll need him, later. We don't let anyone else know that we know," You say and you hear Mark make a small hum of contemplation.

"We'll need him?" He asks, a note of skepticism in his voice, and you nod.

"I don't know how yet. But I can feel it. Trust me on this?" You ask. He sighs.

"You haven't been wrong yet," He replies, and you smile at him in thanks. The pieces are coming into focus now, starting to settle into place. John Kramer has been lining up these dominoes for half a decade.

And you can sense what's coming. Your sight will be your survival. You catch the sound of a buzz, coming from where Mark stands.

"It's John. He wants to meet with you again, one-on-one," Mark says then, and you hazard a guess that he's looking at his phone. Does John Kramer know how to text?

"When?" You ask back. Your intuition tells you this will be important- that it might be the last time you see Kramer, face to face. He's a tyrant, his dark shadow looming over you and Mark, and you know in your soul that even when he's dead, that isn't going to change.

"Now. You ready?"

You hope that you are. You think of Eric Matthews, rotting in the dark; and Daniel Matthews, living in the day. You think of Adam, resigned to the depths to die alone, and Ned, who survived to scoff at the notion of gratitude.

It makes you sick, and not out of guilt.

--

A/N- A bit plot heavy, but since I actually know where this is going now, I'm actually laying down the building blocks for the end! Thank you for waiting, I'm a bit nervous about this chapter so if you liked it, please leave a review <3

TAG LIST: @icarusinstatic @honimello @haven-is-happy @karmaswitch @the-jester-calamity @teamhawkeye @thebrideofcaliban @mjrkime @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @mrs-hotforhoffman @aliengutzstuff

[hermitmoss]

autistic gansey: the raven boys

literal thinking

All of the sources said that church watchers had to possess “the second sight” and Gansey barely possessed first sight before he put his contacts in.

It took Gansey a moment to realize that Ronan had made a joke, and by then, it was too late to laugh.

Gansey, misunderstanding, immediately asked her, “Why would you have to leave?”

“Coincidence?” Ronan asked. “I think not.”  It was meant to be sarcastic. Gansey had said I don’t believe in coincidences so often that he no longer needed to.

He said, “I don’t think that minor children are required to get gifts for their parents. I’m a dependent. That’s the definition of dependent, is it not?”

Several exasperated faces turned on Gansey. Maura said, “Well, he’s not going to just go away because you don’t want to deal with him.” “I didn’t say it was possible,” Gansey replied, not looking up from his splint. “I just said that it was what I would like.”

"His name wasn’t really Butternut, was it?" Gansey asked Adam in a low voice.

food sensitivities

Gansey said, “Tell me there’s no sauce on this burger.”  Dropping the strap from his teeth, Ronan scoffed. “Please.”  “No pickle, either,” Adam said

stimming

The area around him smelled strongly of mint from the leaf he chewed absently. 

He ran his thumb back and forth across his bottom lip, a habit he never seemed to notice and Adam never bothered to point out.

Gansey was crumpled on his bed, earbuds in, eyes closed. Even with the hearing gone in his left ear, Adam could hear the tinny sound of the music, whatever Gansey had played in order to keep himself company, to lure himself to sleep.

special interest

Gansey couldn’t resist talking about Glendower. He never could.

But Gansey never minded retelling the story. He’d related the events like they’d just happened, thrilled again

he was wondering if it was more than the ordinary curiosity people possessed when faced with Gansey and his obsessive accessories. He knew Gansey would find him overly suspicious, unnecessarily proprietary of a search Gansey was more than willing to share with most people.

“We talking about Gansey the third and his New Age obsession?” the secretary asked.

what he found was that Richard Gansey III was more obsessed with the ley line than he had ever been. Something about the entire research process seemed … frantic.  What is wrong with this kid? Whelk wondered

It was suddenly difficult not to be excited by the idea of explaining it all to her.

The easy way that he began the story, at once striding through grass and eyeing the EMF reader, let Blue know that he had told it many times before.

“If you’d just asked,” Gansey said, “I would’ve told you everything in there. I would’ve been happy to. It wasn’t a secret.”

masking and mirroring accents

Adam remembered finding him intimidating when he first met him. There were two Ganseys: the one who lived inside his skin, and the one Gansey put on in the morning when he slid his wallet into the back pocket of his chinos.  The former was troubled and passionate, with no discernible accent to Adam’s ears, and the latter bristled with latent power as he greeted people with the slippery, handsome accent of old Virginia money.

It was a default answer, she saw; he fell back onto his powerful politeness when he was taken by surprise. Also, he was still watching Adam, taking his cues from him as to how he should react to her. Adam nodded, once, briefly, and the mask slipped just a little more. Blue wondered if the President Cell Phone demeanor ever vanished completely when he was around his friends. Maybe the Gansey she’d seen in the churchyard was what lay beneath.

A few minutes later, when Gansey climbed into the front seat beside the pilot, she saw that he was grinning, effusive and earnest, incredibly excited to be going wherever they were going. It was nothing like his previous, polished demeanor.

There was something about the timbre of his voice that surprised Blue. It wasn’t until he spoke again she realized he was using the tone she’d heard him use with Adam.

This Gansey, this story-telling Gansey, was a different person altogether from any of the other versions of him she’d encountered. She couldn’t not listen. 

Gansey had always felt as if there were two of him: the Gansey who was in control, able to handle any situation, able to talk to anyone, and then, the other, more fragile Gansey, strung out and unsure, embarrassingly earnest, driven by naive longing. That second Gansey loomed inside him now, more than ever, and he didn’t like it.

some days Gansey wished that he could be him, because Adam was so very real and true in a way that Gansey couldn’t ever seem to be.

Gansey was first into the room, and he clearly hadn’t expected to find anyone there, because his features hadn’t been arranged at all to disguise his misery. When he saw Blue, he immediately managed to pull a cordial smile from somewhere. And it was so very convincing. She had seen his face just a second before, but even having seen his expression, it was hard to remind herself that the smile was false. Why a boy with a life as untroubled as Gansey’s would have needed to learn how to build such a swift and convincing false front of happiness was beyond her.

not understood/accidentally offensive/words coming out wrong

The Aglionby boy appeared puzzled for a long moment, and then realization dawned. “Oh, that was not how I meant it. That is not what I said.”

To his credit, the Aglionby boy didn’t speak right away. Instead, he thought for a moment and then he said, without heat, “You said you were working for living. I thought it’d be rude to not take that into account. I’m sorry you’re insulted. I see where you’re coming from, but I feel it’s a little unfair that you’re not doing the same for me.”

He hadn’t meant to be offensive but, in retrospect, it was possible he had been. This was going to eat at him all evening. He vowed, as he had a hundred times before, to consider his words better.

He’d managed to offend again, with no effort at all.

After a moment, he said, "Sometimes I’m afraid he’ll never really understand me."

I did tell him, right? I did say that we were to wait. It’s not that he didn’t understand me.

Words pressed against his mouth, begged to be said, but he kept silent.

But Gansey’s words had somehow become unwitting weapons, and he didn’t trust himself to not accidentally discharge them again. 

“My words are unerring tools of destruction, and I’ve come unequipped with the ability to disarm them.

specifically coming across as condescending

 She clearly hadn’t found him condescending.  Which was probably because she hadn’t heard him speak.  

“Sometimes he’s very condescending.”  Adam looked at the ground. “He doesn’t mean to be.

“Really?” Gansey asked, so innocently startled by this that it was clear that Adam had been right before — he hadn’t meant to be condescending.

“God, I’m sick of your condescension, Gansey,” Adam said. “Don’t try to make me feel stupid. Who whips out repugnant? Don’t pretend you’re not trying to make me feel stupid.”  “This is the way I talk.

honesty

Adam suspected Gansey’s preference was because Ronan was earnest even if he was horrible, and with Gansey, honesty was golden.

“So I think we deserve the truth. Tell me you know something but you don’t want to help me, if that’s what’s going on, but don’t lie to me.”

“I’m going to need everyone to be straight with each other from now on. No more games. This isn’t just for Blue, either. All of us.”

He wasn’t sure how to speak without hurting Ronan. He couldn’t lie to him.

“age-inappropriate”

Gansey himself sat at an old desk with his back to them, gazing out an east-facing window and tapping a pen. His fat journal lay open near him, the pages fluttering with glued-in book passages and dark with notes. Adam was struck, as he occasionally was, by Gansey’s agelessness: an old man in a young body, or a young man in an old man’s life.

In his best professor voice

He sounded so old, Blue thought. So formal in comparison to the other boys he’d brought. There was something intensely discomfiting about him

once again Blue got the sense that he seemed older than the boys he’d brought with him.

There was something very ancient about him just then, with the tree arched over him and his eyelids rendered colorless in the shadows.

“You haven’t been a dependent since you were four. You went straight from kindergarten to old man with a studio apartment.” 

Malory had been the first one to take fifteen-year-old Gansey seriously, a favor for which Gansey would not soon stop being grateful for.

journal is comfort object

Gansey retreated to his bed, though he didn’t lie down. He reached for his journal, but it wasn’t there; he’d left it at Nino’s the night of the fight.

Whelk held his hand out for the journal. Gansey swallowed.  He asked, “Whelk — sir — are you sure this is the only way?” The journal weighted his hands. He didn’t need it. He knew everything in it.  But it was him. He was giving everything that he’d worked for away.  I will get a new one.

alexithymia

He thought this feeling inside him was shame.

Gansey tried several different ways to think of the situation, but there wasn’t any way he could paint it that made it hurt less. Something kept fracturing inside him.

Gansey couldn’t begin to explain the size of this awfulness. He only knew that it burst inside him, again and again, fresh every time he considered it. 

some complicated longing to settle an argument that waged deep inside himself.

overwhelming emotions

 More than anything, the journal wanted. It wanted more than it could hold, more than words could describe, more than diagrams could illustrate. Longing burst from the pages, in every frantic line and every hectic sketch and every dark-printed definition. There was something pained and melancholy about it. 

 His bald expression held something new: not the raw delight of finding the ley line or the sly pleasure of teasing Blue. She recognized the strange happiness that came from loving something without knowing why you did, that strange happiness that was sometimes so big that it felt like sadness.

He couldn’t stand it, all of this inside him.  In the end, he was nobody to Adam, he was nobody to Ronan. Adam spit his words back at him and Ronan squandered however many second chances he gave him. Gansey was just a guy with a lot of stuff and a hole inside him that chewed away more of his heart every year.They were always walking away from him. But he never seemed able to walk away from them.

“too serious”

Things seemed to weigh heavily enough on Gansey as it was.

His voice was peculiar. Formal and certain.

~awkward

He knocked fists with Adam. Coming from Gansey, the gesture was at once charming and self-conscious, a borrowed phrase of another language.

“I don’t know what else to say.”  “‘Sorry,’” she recommended.  “I said that already.”

clumsiness and disorganisation

It wasn’t that he meant to be careless — as Adam told him again and again, “Things cost money, Gansey” — it was just that he never seemed to realize the consequences of his actions until too late.

[Ronan] stopped the recorder and said, “You’re dripping gas on your pants, geezer.”

Gansey crashed onto the driver’s seat.

Then there were the notes, made with a half-dozen different pens and markers, but all in the same business-like hand. They circled and pointed and underlined very urgently. They made bulleted lists and eager exclamation points in the margins. They contradicted one another and referred to one another in third person. Lines became cross-hatching became doodles of mountains became squirrelly tire tracks behind fast-looking cars

Not the tidy stacks of an intellectual attempting to impress, but the slumping piles of a scholar obsessed.

It looked like the home of a mad inventor or an obsessed scholar or a very messy explorer; after meeting Gansey, she was beginning to suspect that he was all of these things.

EfficiencyTM

Gansey derived a large part of his pleasure from meeting goals, and a large part of that large part was pleased by meeting goals efficiently. There was nothing more efficient than aiming for your destination as the crow flew.

RulesTM

They didn’t even have the authority to choose an alcoholic beverage. They couldn’t be deciding who deserved to live or die.

likes mechanical things (not counting the camaro because that’s just Too Many Quotes to compile)

He liked the little knobs and toggles and gauges of cockpits, and he liked the technological backwardness of the simple clasp seat belts.

not understanding/realizing things

Again, his face was somehow puzzled by the fact of their hand-holding.

It hadn’t occurred to Gansey that if the Camaro had been operating properly, fleeing would’ve been an option.

Gansey didn’t understand, but he nodded. 

And now Gansey was a king here, and he didn’t even know how to use it.

difficulty reading people/nonverbal cues not impacting him

Gansey suspected that none of them was being completely honest with their replies, but at least he’d told them what he wanted. Sometimes all he could hope for was getting it on the record.

One of Ronan’s eyebrows was raised, sharp as a razor.  Gansey strapped his journal closed. “That doesn’t work on me. 

He didn’t believe she was really offended; her face didn’t look like it had at Nino’s when they’d first met, and her ears were turning pink. He thought, possibly, he was getting a little better at not offending her

need for certainty

What Gansey needed out of life was facts, things he could write in his journal, things he could state twice and underline, no matter how improbable those facts were.

generally unusual ways of thinking

An astonished Roman historian commented, You look under rocks no one else thinks to pick up, slick.

general “strangeness”

Adam leaned toward her as if he was about to say something, but ultimately, he just shook his head, smiling, like Gansey was a joke that was too complicated to explain.

“ARE YOU LISTENING, GLENDOWER? I AM COMING TO FIND YOU!” Gansey’s voice, ebullient and ringing, echoed off the tree-covered slopes around the field. Adam and Blue found him standing in the middle of a clear, pale path, his arms stretched out and his head tilted back as he shouted into the air.

“You find it not normal?”  She could tell that he very much wanted her to say that he wasn’t normal, so she replied, “Oh, I’m sure it’s quite normal in some circles.”  He looked a little hurt, but most of his attention was on the meter, which showed two faint red lights. He remarked, “I’d like to be in those circles.

Gansey couldn’t keep the exasperation from his voice. “‘Strange’ doesn’t help me. I don’t know what ‘strange’ means.”

He was himself, but he was something else, too — that something that Blue had first seen in him at the boys’ reading, that sense of otherness, of something more, seemed to radiate from that still portrait of Gansey enshrined in the dark tree.

not knowing other people don’t know things he knows

“Gansey, seriously,” Adam interrupted, to Blue’s relief. “Nobody knows what quiddity is.”

“Nobody knows who Ned Kelly is, either, Gansey.”

Born This Way

A small voice within Adam asked whether he would ever look this grand on the inside, or if it was something you had to be born into.

just. this. the way he knows to think this, the way he instinctively compares them to aliens that humans mistreat and that he logically shouldn’t love.

They were like aliens, Gansey thought. Aliens that we have treated very badly for a very long time. If I were a tree, I would have no reason to love a human.

[whitemancumslut]

since you’re obvi a swiftie can u write something inspired by the clip from miss americana of her playing call it what you want on the guitar and joe’s filming her where like y/n is a singer/songwriter and Harry’s filming her plssss 🙏🏼🙏🏼

SUMMARY: Y/n plays her new song to Harry and it brings him back in time.

WORD COUNT: 1.2k+

a/n: hopefully this is something compared to what you requested:)) this is so ugh!!!

It was no secret; Harry wrote songs about her consistently. She was continually present in his thoughts. Every little thing she did was meticulously noted, retained in his memory and jotted down. She was his muse.

As was he for her. Y/n writing songs about Harry definitely wasn’t rare. But she never released them. She always felt like she was unable to fully express how much he had done for her. But, this song did just that. This song was something she was confident about. It definitely broke down some of the most vulnerable parts of her, but it also put together the pieces of how much she loved Harry.

“Ready when you are, m’love,” Harry announced from behind the camera. Harry sat across from her on the couch of their living room as she sits on the floor, holding her guitar in her arms.

Y/n takes a deep breath as she rubs her hands around the guitars set and replays the song in her head before she starts. She looks up at Harry who’s giving her a reassuring smile with a tight nod giving another go-ahead.

When she began to sing, Harry was so captivated that he felt as if his whole mind had been transported to the realm of folklore. Her voice was like a real life Heaven. He couldn’t describe it.

“I wonder if you know,

if you can tell I’m losin’

I’m going down without a fight,

I don’t know how you do it.”

For a moment, his focus was taken away from her elegant voice and was brought the tone and lyrics. The last line stirred up a vivid memory of the first time he ever saw her cry. It was a night he wish he could forget.

He held her tenderly, as she crumbled in his arms in a way he'd never seen before. His heart ached for her in that moment, and he fervently wished he'd never have to witness her in such a vulnerable state again.

“Wish I could be more like you. You handle everything so well.” She cried as she looked up at him. His heart broke more as he saw her lip quiver as she spoke.

Harry’s face softens as he began to realize exactly what she meant. Harry always seemed to put on a strong front for Y/n, as if it would be too much for her to bear if he were to show any vulnerability. He knew, deep down, that Y/n would have done the same for him, and would have been by his side in his darkest of times. But a part of him was scared to open up and he couldn't understand why.

“I don’t know how you do it,” She whispered.

When she spoke, a deep sense of guilt surged through him. He had shed a few tears in the shower and when he was alone, so that she would never know. Harry couldn't bring himself to be honest with her, even though she was crying about his courage and strength. In truth, he felt embarrassed and ashamed for not being able to demonstrate any vulnerability to his lover.

Constantly being a source of strength and solace from the start of their relationship, he was well aware of all the hardships that had been presented to him. Despite the lack of sleep due to his selfless efforts in supporting her through anything she was going through, he still perseveringly stood by her side.

The only time Harry’s ever heard of the song is when he overheard her singing it and and practically begged for her to play it for him. But he never knew about this verse. The man before her was in complete awe.

“You say we share a brain,

Apologizing for it.

But take it as a compliment, you make me really nervous.

This line refers to some of Harry's words at the start of their relationship that have left a lasting impression on her. She can't help but recall them even now. No one had ever loved Y/n like Harry does. From the way he looks at her to his unwavering devotion, his love for her overwhelms her. She can't help but feel slightly anxious, scared of accidentally damaging the bond they've built together. His love is one-of-a-kind, and no one has ever been able to compare.

“Ugh! Harry stop!” She giggled. “I did not!” She expressed loudly as she turned her way in the bed so she’s laying directly across from him.

“You did so!” He said back, “You were so thinking it! And you know how I know?”

She smiled, “How?”

“‘Cause we practically share a brain m’love.”

Her voice was so soft. The gentle shake her voice held as she sang those exactly lines had Harry mesmerized. His heart was beyond full as she sang to him about him.

“What are you doing to me now?”

“You came out of the blue like that.

You came out of the blue like that.

I never could've seen you coming

I think you're everything I've wanted…”

Y/n never thought she would find someone like him. He’s everything she didn’t know she needed or wanted.

“Send me every song

That keeps you up from sleeping.

I bet I could recite ‘em all”

“I won’t forget the feeling

Of staying up with you.

Despite the space between us, I’ve never felt this close to someone

What if you’re my weakness?”

Didn’t take long into the relationship for Y/n to realize being with Harry was all she needed to feel okay. He was her person and she was his. It was simple.

Both of them being on tour did happen to take a toll on their relationship. Although they made an effort to call each other every night, it could not replace her lack of having the only person who brings her comfort close by.

Obviously, phone calls weren't quite the same as when they were actually together. Still, it was a source of comfort for her, hearing from him every night. They would stay on FaceTime until one of them, usually Y/n, would eventually succumb to sleep. It was these little moments that kept her going.

When Y/n's tour ended, she planned to get up right away and stay with Harry more regularly and travel across seas with him. But Harry encouraged her to take some time for herself, to rest and recuperate after her arduous year-long tour. Eventually, when she felt ready and both of them were content, she joined him on his journey. It definitely made them ten times more happier being with each other after being so apart.

She gazes up at Harry, whose mouth hangs open in awe as he looks back at her.

He’s speechless. Harry was deeply touched by how she used intimate and pressurized moments between them in her song. He absolutely adored it.

“So?” She asked, “What do you think?” She placed the guitar against the couch, and made her way over to Harry. Smiling like a school boy with his crush, he stopped the video and placed the device down.

He hung out his arms so she can enter his embrace as he repeats how amazing she sounded and how great the song was.

“It was beautiful, love.”

a/n i’m a huge gracie fan as well so this was so fun to make:))

[melodygatesauthor]

Chapter 15: Forgiveness and Understanding

prof!Steven Grant-Jake Lockley-Marc Spector X f!Reader

Edited by: @whatthefishh

Mood Boards - Book Cover - Masterlist

Chapter Summary

After all parties take some time to breathe, you realize that you can't say goodbye so easily.

Tags/Summary (these are for the ENTIRE fic):

college AU, no powers/not in MCU/no Khonshu (as a deity), talk of mental illness, Marc has DID, forbidden relationship, age gap, reader is 21y/o, Boys are 38y/o, reader attends college in America but isn't necessarily American, smut, sex, masturbation, p in v, creampies galore, reader is on birth control, dubious consent due to identity issues, ANGST, romance, fluff and smut, oral sex, falling in love, reader is not race coded, minor mentions of alcohol addiction and depression.

Word Count: 2.9k

----

It was nearly a week and a half before you spoke to them again. 

When you weren’t brushing off your ever inquiring roommate and begging your professors to postpone your midterms, you were crying…again. You didn’t want to be such a mess over him, you’d always been a fairly confident and independent woman, but you felt so betrayed you couldn’t help it. Of course the guy you lost your virginity to was a nutjob. Of course that would be just your luck.

Who were you kidding? Luck had nothing to do with it. You were stupid. Completely moronic. You never should’ve pursued that relationship in the first place. This was just as much your fault as it was his. Whatever game he was playing, if it really was a game, you’d fallen for it, and fallen hard.

Your stubbornness only got you so far though, before you were dragging yourself to your laptop for answers. A little voice in the back of your head was telling you to at least look into it. You didn’t have to forgive him, but you had to know if he was telling the truth. Either way, it didn’t change the fact that he’d been lying to you all that time, and it certainly didn’t change the fact that he slept with you and then tried to dump you like you didn’t matter.

But you definitely mattered to at least one of them…

You mattered to Jake Lockley, who stood outside the bar where he’d saved you, leaning against his car smoking a cigarette. He was going to go inside, but he wanted to wait a while, knowing without a doubt that Marc would take over once he got in there, but Jake had to come back to the first place he’d truly met you. He missed you, and that shitty bar made him smile when he saw it.

They’d all been co-fronting since they’d decided to tell you about their condition. The only reason Marc and Jake had taken a backseat in the first place was to give Steven the perfect life, but it would seem that was impossible for them now.

“How long are you two going to be sulking for anyway? This is for the best, her being out of our life,” Marc said, looking back at Jake in the reflection of the side-view mirror.

“I’m not sulking pendejo,” Jake replied, taking another drag off his cigarette, “just wondering when you’re gonna admit that you miss her too.”

“I hardly know her, and I’m not like you guys, I have morals,” Marc looked away when Jake faced the mirror in disbelief, “alright maybe I’m not moral but, I’m not attracted to someone half my age who’s my student,” he scoffed, “and I’m not going to sleep with her and pretend to be someone else!”

“Yeah…you’re right about that. I guess for once Steven gets to be the bad guy.”

“Hey!” Steven shouted, his reflection visible in the window, “m’not a bad man just because…well…”

Jake smirked, “yeah…we all kinda suck,” he said, dropping his cigarette on the ground and putting it out under his shoe.

“She didn’t have to be such a little bitch about it though,” Marc said, which resulted in both Jake and Steven yelling over each other in your defense.

Jake stopped when he saw a couple walking by, staring at him with confusion and horror in their eyes. Yelling at his reflection in public probably wasn’t the best idea. After telling them to fuck off, he slipped into his car angrily and sped off in a huff.

“She just overreacted,” Jake said after a few moments of silence, “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

“Then she shouldn’t have said it,” Marc said coldly.

“She’s y–” Jake cleared his throat, “she’s uneducated.”

“No, no…what you were gonna say is right, she’s young, and she doesn’t know anything. Maybe that’s why both of you had no business with her in the first place, hm?”

“You know what really pisses me off Marc? That after all the shit we pulled back in Egypt, you’re suddenly acting like you’re señor perfecto. This twenty-one year old girl says something she shouldn’t say, and you’re gonna really look yourself in the eye right now and tell me that you’ve never said anything you regretted?”

He looked in his rearview mirror for a moment, waiting to see if Marc had anything to say, but Marc looked away.

“Thought so.”

Jake didn’t even know where he was going, he was just driving, trying to keep himself from losing his cool even more. He shifted gears, driving faster down a winding road. He could hear Steven muttering in the back of his mind, always hating when Jake took his frustration out behind the wheel.

“We never even had the chance to tell her about Egypt,” Marc said, seemingly unfazed by Jake’s reckless driving.

“It’s probably better that way,” Jake said, pulling into an abandoned parking lot and sighing heavily.

“Can we not sit in this parkin’ lot?” Steven asked several beats of silence.

Jake looked in the mirror, “what’s wrong with this parking lot?” He chuckled as he remembered, “oh…si, you two had fun here didn’t you?”

“Yeah we did…right after the best date of my life.”

It was silent again. That hit home for all of them. Not one of the three had been in any sort of meaningful relationship, not until Steven had been with you. Even Marc let it fester for a while, the thought of having someone that looked at him the way you looked at Jake and Steven. He wondered what that felt like.

----

By the time you decided to talk to them again, you’d reflected heavily on the entire situation. It wasn’t easy, weighing the scales, looking at the wrongdoings of both sides versus what you’d all done right. Relationships were complicated, and this one wouldn’t be any different, but one thing was for certain; you weren’t ready to let Steven out of your life, and you were willing to do what it took to get through this.

So you considered all the factors, one of the most prevalent being that people make mistakes. Neither of you had planned to run into each other at that coffee shop before knowing you were his student and he your professor. Neither of you had planned to flirt and find comfort in each other’s company. Neither of you thought that it would get this messy.

Steven, being the much older one of the two of you, never should’ve let it continue, but you were also an adult capable of making your own choices. He should’ve been honest with you about Marc and Jake from the start, but when you thought about that more, he was probably afraid of your reaction. And of course, you reacted exactly the way he’d feared.

Jake slept with you without your consent.

Another major factor to consider. You felt dirty when you thought about it, but the more you considered it, you wondered if it actually upset you that much. He owed you an apology, that much was for certain, but when you thought about the fact that he helped you get through such a hardship - losing Steven -, and the fact that he’d saved your life, - dealing with that guy at the bar -, you realized that he must’ve cared for you too. None of that excused his actions, but you might be willing to forgive him with an acceptable enough apology.

It was time to talk to them again. You were ready to apologize for calling them crazy, or a ‘nut job’ as you’d so insensitively put it. You texted them, hoping that you hadn’t upset them to a point of no return.

You: Hi guys

You stared at your phone, waiting with bated breath to see if they’d even respond. When your phone went off right away you nearly collapsed on your dorm room floor. Despite the name popping up as Steven, you knew immediately that it was Jake texting you.

Steven: Hola corazón.

That was a good start, he couldn’t be that mad if he was using pet names, right? That meant at least one of them was open to talking.

You: I think we should talk, can we meet somewhere?

----

You met at the park, a few miles away from school so you didn’t run the risk of any other students or faculty seeing you together. Even in his flat cap, white button-down, tie, and black coat, he still looked enough like Steven that it would look suspicious to anyone who knew he was your professor.

You sat next to him on the bench, and he looked over at you with a sly smirk. The differences between them were so obvious now that you knew the truth. The casual way Jake sat with his arms across the back of the bench, and his legs spread out like he owned the place was in stark contrast with Steven. He would’ve been sitting with his hands in his lap, fidgeting with his too-long sleeves and avoiding your gaze. Jake looked right at you, eyes boring into yours like he knew your very thoughts.

He let out a heavy sigh, “perdóname…for everything, bebita,” he said in his soft, sultry voice. 

His eyes were pleading, begging you for forgiveness, but you didn’t know if you could give in so easily. You stared at him until an awkward amount of time passed. You didn’t know what to say, and he was still just watching you…waiting.

Finally you took a deep breath, “how could you do that to me? How could you…sleep with me like that, knowing I thought you were someone else?”

He let out an exhale as though he were surprised you didn’t fold for him immediately. You suspected that Jake wasn’t used to rejection. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. You snatched them from his grasp and glared at him.

“No,” you said firmly, “you’re not doing that anymore.”

“That’s not really up to you beb–”

“It sure is. I said no.”

“Yikes, you’re really gonna let her talk to you like that?” Marc said with a chuckle, “regretting meeting up with her yet?”

“Just wait until you figure out Marc’s vice,” Jake tsked, smiling a little too wide for Marc’s liking.

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole you know that?”

“Fine,” Jake said, giving you a smile laced in frustration and ignoring Marc, “I wish I could give you a good answer sweetheart, but when I saw the way you looked at me when you thought I was Steven…” his aggravated smile turned into one of affection, “no one’s ever looked at me like that before.”

“Like…like what?” You felt the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Like they were in love with me, like nothing else mattered except me. Made me sick to my stomach and like I could jump out of my skin all at once,” he sighed and chuckled, “never felt such a rush and then you kissed me and…”

He reached out and took your hand. Jake thought for sure you might pull away from him, but you didn’t. Instead you stared down at the moons embroidered on the knuckles of his gloves and rubbed them under your thumb. When you looked back up at him, your eyes were wet, tears threatening to spill over your cheeks. You gulped, clearly attempting to hold your sobs at bay.

“I always knew something was off, about the entire way he was…well…you were acting.” You damned the tear that fell down your face, “but I wanted so badly to believe that what Steven and I had wasn’t over that I ignored it all.” You looked down again at your connected hands.

“I know, and I shouldn’t have pulled you along like that, it was wrong and I don’t deserve your forgiveness but–”

“You don’t…but I forgive you anyway.”

When you looked up at him this time, his face looked pleasant, calm, less pained than when you’d arrived. He reached up his other hand and cupped your cheek, brushing along your skin with his thumb.

Jake’s heart skipped several beats when he looked at you now. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get the opportunity to truly love you properly. He thought the two of you would sneak around in the shadows for a while and then it would all fizzle out like some bad romance novel with a shitty ending. But there you were, looking him in the eyes just like you had before. He wanted to lean in and kiss you, maybe even take you right there on the bench despite the woman playing with her dog on one side of the park and the family playing on the other, but he restrained himself.

You supposed it was your turn now to apologize. You scooted closer to Jake on the bench, your knee touching his as you did. You felt the anxiety pooling in your chest. It was just a simple apology, but you were struggling to find the words. You wondered if Steven and Marc would hear the apology, or if you’d have to tell them each individually. Regardless, you would do it. You’d apologize a hundred times if you had to.

“I’m sorry too. What I said when Marc told me about your disorder,” you sighed heavily, “it wasn’t right.” You shook your head, feeling disappointed in yourself for the way you handled the situation. “You don't have to accept my apology but–”

Jake leaned forward, moving his hand from your cheek to the back of your head and pulling you in, slotting his lips over yours. You could feel it now, the differences in the way they kissed; in the way they felt. A passionate breath left your lips as a deep moan left his, and when he broke off the embrace, you wanted to go back for more, but you resisted.

“Wow,” you said, breathing as if you’d just run a marathon.

You both sat there, just looking at each other and trying like hell not to continue. Jake stopped touching you altogether to curb the temptation, and he slid over on the bench, knowing that being out in public together was still a bad idea, even if it was a distance from your school. Not to mention the screaming Brit in his head who didn’t seem too keen on sharing you with the other two just yet.

“Can I talk to Marc?” You asked softly, a major contrast to the sound of Steven losing his cool in Jake’s mind.

“No,” Marc said bluntly.

Jake sniffed out a laugh, “Marc’s pretty pissed off, maybe not the best idea to talk to him right now sweetheart.”

You scowled, “I just want to apologize! What is his problem?”

“Apology heard,” Marc said from the headspace, “but I don’t have to accept this shit, if you two wanna keep fucking around with this stupid…girl…then I’m through trying to stop you, but I don’t have to partake in her bullshit.”

“Settle down hermano,” Jake said out loud, noticing immediately the quizzical expression on your face. Jake sighed, “He’s not interested right now corazón, but if you wait until he’s got a couple shots down the hatch, you might get a better response.”

Jake was surprised that Marc didn’t have a retort for him. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, feeling a pit in your stomach. What if Marc never forgave you? Would that be the end of this whole thing? Was he always going to be there, constantly putting a wedge between you and Steven and Jake?

Oh hell…Steven…

It had been so long since you and Steven had been together. It felt like there was a hole in your heart. You thought back to the early days of your relationship, a relationship that really wasn’t all that long when you thought about it. It didn’t matter though, you knew how it felt. You missed him more than you could stand to put into words.

Plus there were still so many questions.

What if he didn’t want to share you with the other two? How would that work? What if the other two each got girlfriends of their own? Well, Jake clearly was too interested in you to do that, but what about Marc? He couldn’t be expected to just sit in their head and watch the other two be happy, right? He deserved to be happy too. But the first thing you had to do, before you could figure any of that out, was talk to Steven.

“I miss Steven,” you said quietly, looking up at Jake again.

He sighed, “I know bebita, I know.”

“I want to talk to her, but I’d rather do it at our flat. Wanna do an apology my way y’know?”

“Si,” he said to Steven, “come to the apartment tonight at seven, you can see him then.”

With that, you nodded, both of you bidding the other farewell with a hug, and for the first time in weeks, you felt whole again.

----

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Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[mbat]

ok i always hesitate to compare varian and cassandra because i know varian is the fandoms baby but i am always comparing them when it comes to the fandoms reactions to the characters

and theres definitely several factors at play as to why people react differently to them, but the main one im thinking of is the things that made the characters break the way they did

moreso how varians is a very external and fairly universal thing. his father was basically taken from him (by varians own creation no less), and he was begging for help that he sadly would not get for reasons that we understand, but hes a teenage boy and was going through the worst thing he ever couldve, so of course he wasnt understanding, he was begging for help from someone that shouldve been able to help, but because of the circumstances, that just wasnt possible. you really cant argue with the motivation there.

but cassandras pain was always more of an internal thing, something that isnt laid out so clearly for the viewers to grasp, especially if they dont care to pay her enough attention. her motivation is there from the beginning, even. in the first few episodes we saw her trying to be someone, be something, by trying to win that one competition and such. i think its even in the beginning of that episode that we see her do something really cool and some kids start cheering and shes proud for a second, before its revealed the kids were simply only cheering because rapunzel was arriving, which sets up the episode in general.

this theme of her trying to be more but never getting to, and being outshined by rapunzel, or not seen/heard by anyone including rapunzel, it lasts through the entire show. but her breaking point comes when this theme is brought to its strongest, with gothel.

shes shown that her own mother was gothel, and gothel abandoned her to take care of rapunzel instead.

personally i think that that alone is pretty damn understandable of a motivation even without the further context, but seeing as this theme has been going through the entire run of the show, its just even worse. rapunzel never means to make cassandra 2nd place, but she has been before she even had memories or thoughts. of course cassandra would break about that.

but if you dont care about cassandra... it just looks like shes throwing a little tantrum about it.

but spending your whole life in the shadow of others, and then several years in this one specific shadow, its not fun. its not great. you grow resentful, you wonder why its like this, you blame others for not bothering to ever truly look your way. at some point you fully blame everyone else and not yourself because youve been doing everything you can and it still isnt enough for them.

im gonna go even more off track here but i also think about that one episode where its a flashback and its an episode that i think bothers some people when it comes to this, i know it bothered athena p (good youtuber but her opinions on my favorite shows hurts me inside). when cassandra had the chance to live her dreams, go to the kingdom of women warriors, but she chose to stay home and be rapunzels friend.

and i guess my best summary of it is... wouldnt you rather stay home and have your first friend ever, whos offering themself up on a platter to you? instead of going somewhere far away that youve never been to before, surrounded by strangers? she could likely always try going to that place later (i headcanon that she does after the show after all), but i cant really blame her for wanting to stay home if she could.

so of course it has to suck that the whole reason you gave up on getting your dream sooner only hurts you more. that she put her dream on pause to make her first friend right there at home, and that friend only (unintentionally) hurt her.

and idk like i said i definitely think theres more factors at play as to why people like one more than the other (for example theres way less time for varian to do fucked up things even though he does do a few lol, but cass has a lot more time)

(also i didnt even MENTION that she was being manipulated the entire time she was using the moonstone but whatever. i can absolutely see people being like 'wtf just dont listen to zhan tiri lol ez' and that would just scream that they dont understand manipulation but whatever whatever whatever)

but yeah i just think a big thing is that. not everyone has experienced what cass experienced, not everyone paid enough attention to her to even care about what her whole deal was, not everyone even sees the big deal with the things she went through. but varian has this very understandable reason that you dont need to think too deeply to see why he does what he does.

this isnt a hate post to varian btw i dont dislike or hate him lol, i just think about cassandra so much its unreal

[six-swords]

hello it is me the person who left that ridiculously long comment on ur steb/scar fic. you know the one LMFAO anyways i literally just found out that there is an event in Wild Rift that centers around the firelights and they speak a little w/ scar during it! totally missed this bc my ass has not played a single league-related game in years and im not planning on breaking the streak anytime soon. on the off chance that u didnt know about this either... https://www.reddit.com/r/loreofleague/s/bX9o39uHNX

anyways i would go crazy for a sequel. idk if u were asking what we'd like to see more sex-wise (pussy eating and dirty talk pwease. also if it fits in w/ how you view his character id love to see steb tease scar back but i also fuck with subs being submissive in the truest sense of the word so id be happy either way) or story wise—in that case i would love to know more about scar's baby! has steb taken on more of a parental role or is he just like. "Scar's green friend that spends a lot of time in our apartment and also Scar tells me to go bother Ekko sometimes while he's over (wonder what that's about)." also would like to know more about how you figure Scar's relationship to the kiddo works bc judging by how old they are when we first saw em...if that is his biological child he was definitely boning in the firelights hideout. kind of problematic if you ask meNFNSKSNAKCNSJFN

sorry i really tried to keep this short bc it's a tumblr ask but i Have To Yap. its terminal </3

!! Hello again! I absolutely didn't know about the Wild Rift thing, so thank you for sharing! Any and all official Scar content is helpful for getting a better idea of his characterization. And you're real for avoiding League itself lmfao. I'm not a gamer by any means, so I also don't know shit about the actual games alskdjf

And omg thank you for your enthusiasm and suggestions! I really did only decide to write more because people seemed to enjoy the first fic. I will be having Steb be more active/teasing since they have a more established relationship now teehee. I'm thinking Steb takes initiative, but then Scar takes charge, and Steb, of course, is very into that. And knowing what I usually end up writing, there will probably be dirty talk LOLL. We'll see about Scar eating more pussy. Maybe if i can fit it in :thinking-emoji:

Steb's baby will make an appearance in the fic! Her name is Greer (I'm 80% sure she doesn't have an official name??), and in this fic, she'll be, like, four maybe? For some more context, I've time-skipped two years after the show's finale. And you will be receiving answers to what Steb's dynamic with Greer is! Scar putting Ekko on babysitting duty, so he can fuck his boyfriend is crazyyyy work, but I can see it sdlkfjaldskfj

Also, I think I'm missing something loll. Why would it be problematic for Scar to be fucking in the hideout...? Is it because he's supposed to be focused on all the craziness with Zaun? Like not the time and place kind of vibe sldkjflskfj?? But my tentative and very loose thoughts about Scar and Greer are that he had her with his ex (so Greer is his biological child), but then his ex left him right after Greer was born lmfao. His ex didn't want to raise a kid, but Scar did, so Scar parented Greer alone until Steb came into the picture, and now Steb helps. Sidenote, but I imagine a lot of Scar's relationships have ended in messy or tragic ways. Bisexual king taking L after L...

Also, I love the yapping. Definitely don't ever worry about the comment/ask length!

[unreadpoppy]

down by the river - Chapter 9

Raphael x Warlock!Tav

Read on AO3

Chapter 8

A/N: Okay we jumping cause we gotta move this story along. Also shout out to @sky-kiss for screen shotting the Mol scene for me, it was of great help! Also, many parts of the dialogues are taken from the game but modified to fit the story better.

After Halsin told the group that they needed to go to Moonrise Towers, Tav gathered everyone to decide on which way they should go: through the Underdark or the Mountain Pass. 

Lae’zel argued in favor of the latter, saying that there was a githyankyi crechè in the area and they would have to offer her cleansing. Shadowheart, however, favored the Underdark, considering that it would be a more discreet route. 

“I believe we could go through both.” Tav finally spoke. All eyes turned towards her. “We have means of exploring both regions, and then we determine which way is better.” 

‘And it would stop the two of them from bickering.’ Tav thought to herself. She turned towards the gith warrior. “We’ll go to the Mountain Pass first, see that the crechè gives us a solution.”

Lae’zel nodded and walked away, probably to polish her sword some more. The others left as well, while Tav kept looking at the map. 

“The shadow cursed lands.” Tav whispered to herself. As she passed her finger on where the name was written on the map, she felt the scar on her collarbone sting, causing her to hiss. 

“Have you ever been there?” Shadowheart asked, appearing next to Tav. 

“Why you ask?”

She pointed with her chin towards the paper.  “Just the way you look at the map. Seems like you’ve got some history there.” 

Tav shook her head. “I’ve never been there, no, but Raphael has a few contracts there.” She turned towards the cleric. “I can’t help but wonder what has happened to them - the debtors.” 

She made a motion to move away, saying “Now, if you’ve got nothing more to ask, I’ll get ready for bed.” 

“Actually, there is something else I’d like to know.” Shadowheart said. “We know Mizora sent Wyll to hunt after devils and demons alike, but what type of jobs did Raphael ever sent you on?”

Tav shrugged. “All sorts of things. Sometimes it was to kill someone who wronged him, or gather information. Other times, accompany him to an event, entertain a guest.” 

Playing music when he was bored, helping him with his compositions were also part of the list, although Tav wouldn’t say that out loud. “If there was something that needed to be done, I’d do it, although, since he acquired another warlock, things got a bit easier on my side.” She looked away, for a moment. “One thing is true, however. Raphael would never ask me to do something he knew I couldn’t do.”

Shadowheart nodded.  “When you put it like that, he doesn’t seem that bad.”

“Well, he’s definitely better than other masters that I have served.” Tav chuckled to herself. “It is getting late. We should go sleep, tomorrow will be a long day.” She said and moved towards her bedroll. 

That night, the dream visitor met her again, giving her warnings for the future, while telling her to embrace her potential. Tav had no inclinations of becoming ilithid, but she still needed his protection, and so, she told him she’d think about it. 

As their journey continued, Tav would keep listening to the dream visitor’s interference, but she tried to ignore it. She already had one devil telling her what to do - she didn’t need another otherworldly being bothering her as well. 

…

“Your move, Mol.” She heard him before she saw him. Of course Raphael would be at Last Light Inn, but playing lanceboard with a child was not the sight Tav expected to see. 

“You trapped me.” Mol said. “I didn’t even want to take this one.” 

“Calishmen rules, dear. The first piece touched is the first piece moved.” He explained. For a moment, Tav was transported to a memory that played much like this one. When he taught  her how to play the game, and how frustrated she had been. 

‘This doesn’t make any sense.’ She groaned. ‘I’m gonna end up losing this knight.’

‘Then make a useful sacrifice.’ He guided her. ‘Guard your Mystra or come for my Cyriq.’

Tav was snapped out of the memory when Mol asked her “Say, do you play Lanceboard by any chance? It’s my first time playing.” 

She raised her brow at the girl, easily detecting the lie. “Put pressure on him. Attack the pieces in front of his king.”  

Mol did as you say, moving the pieces around. 

“My, the Theskan Double Counter - Gambit. Vicious. Exactly what I would have done.” 

The girl soon beat Raphael. “How’s that for Calimshen rules?”

“Brava! Lovely work.” Raphael praised the girl. “I see I was right to make you the offer I did. You will consider it, won’t you?” He asked Mol, who didn’t say anything as she walked away. 

Raphael turned towards the group.“The Thasken move was inspired. I see I have taught you well.” He then looked at Mol speaking with the other tiefling children. “What a lovely specimen she is. A blushing apple, ready to be plucked.”

“I know he’s your boss, but please, let me smack this creep.” Karlach whispered. 

Tav ignored her, crossing her arms and raising a brow. “You’re offering deals to kids now? I thought you loathed chattering children.”

“I can make exceptions, from time to time. But don’t you worry about Mol - it goes without saying she still has the unconditional freedom to choose the only option she has left.” He chuckled. “Besides, I do enjoy being in this neighborhood again. It has such a history of abject tragedy.” He focused his gaze on Tav. “And as you well know, tragedy is my bread and bloody butter.”

Raphael waved his hand, dismissing the subject. “But enough about my lesser pursuits. Why bother with trifles when I’m in the illustrious presence of my very favorite client.” He bowed as he said that, making Tav suck in a breath. “It is good to see you again, O apple of my eye. I’d ask you if you’ve made any progress with your little problem, but the tell-tale twitching of your eye is answer enough.” 

“Raphael.” She greeted him. “Should I consider it a coincidence to find you here?”

He smiled. “My dear, nothing is a coincidence. Mortals trifle themselves with free will, as if their betters have not moulded every potential path ahead.” Tav cleared her throat at that. Raphael chuckled. “No offense meant, of course. I’m sure everyone in Last Light thinks they could have changed things.” 

“They’re not the only ones ripe for temptation. As you well know, Tav, my last contract here fed me for decades.”

“You were here before?” Wyll asked. “Why?”

“Family troubles. Not my family, of course.” He shot Tav a knowing look, and she gave a small nod, imperceptible to the others. “I never surrender knowledge for free, but one good turn deserves another, does it not? To repay you, for all the souls you sent my way, I offer you a glimpse of the truth.” 

The devil then spoke of Ketheric Thorm, how his army had been massacred, and even proposing more knowledge in a future contract. Tav squinted her eyes at that - although Raphael shared most of his plans with her, she knew there was something that he was hiding. 

When he was done talking, she made a move to leave but he continued. “Before you leave, I sense there’s something your friend wants to ask me.” He looked at Astarion. 

“I do. I have a proposal for you.” The elf spoke up. “My old- well, a long time ago, someone carved some runes into my back. I’d rather like to know what they say.” 

As Raphael considered his words, Tav turned towards the rogue. “Scars? What are you talking about?”

“You haven’t told them? And you’ve kept your clothes on this whole time? How unlike you.” Raphael smirked. “Why not let them see? Don’t be shy.” 

“Raphael, don’t-” Tav tried to intervene but it was too late. Her patron waved his hand and soon, Astarion found himself only in his underwear. She looked angrily at Raphael.

“Don’t worry. I’m motivated to help you. Scars often tell such wonderful stories. I think yours might be truly exquisite. I’ll see you soon.” He eyed the two of them and vanished. 

At the same time, Tav removed her clock and threw it around the elf, as he said “Well. Now you know.” 

She sucked in a breath. “Go back to camp and get dressed.” Astarion nodded, doing so as told, alongside the others. 

Meanwhile, Tav turned her attention towards Mol. Although she knew Raphael, she did not enjoy the idea of such a young child making deals with him. 

“Nice strategy back there. If we put our heads together, I bet you and me could make a tidy stack of coin in Baldur’s Gate.” The girl as Tav approached her. “But Raphael’s offered me a partnership already, and it seems like a sweeter deal than throwing my lot in with you.” 

Tav gave her a serious expression, crossing her arms. . “Be careful, Mol. You are too young to be making deals with devils. They can be quite the poison.” 

The girl squinted her eye at the woman. “Poison. Sure.” She scoffed. “You seem to love the taste of it. He seems to know you pretty well.” 

Tav clenched her jaw, and tilted her head. “Touché.” She loosened her arms. “You’ve got quite the keen eye, I see.” She sighed. “But I’m being serious, Mol.” 

“Look, you saved us. Not knockin’ that.” Mol began. “But after you left, Zevlor lost his nerve - gave up the fight. I won’t. Now there’s no grove, no coin, no one taking us to the city. I’m not letting my crew get eaten by shadows.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll make a deal, maybe I won’t. But it’ll be my choice - not the devil’s and not yours.” Mol huffed and walked away, leaving Tav to shake her head. 

… 

After that meeting, Astarion wondered when he would meet the devil again, saying that they would need to keep their ears ready for the sound of cheap poetry and the smell of sulphur. 

“I wonder, how do you handle it, that smell all the time.” The elf complained, as the group made their way towards what could be the entrance to the mausoleum they sought. “It’s absolutely dreadful.” 

“Well, it does help that Raphael is always perfuming himself.”

“Oh, really? And what scent does he use?” 

“Cherries and musk.” Tav replied. “It’s the one he always makes me buy.” She raised a brow at Astarion’s curiosity. “Wanting to buy one for yourself?” 

“No, I-” Before he could finish, Tav raised a hand, hearing a voice. In an instant, she recognized who it belonged to. 

It was, of course, Raphael and his little theatrics. 

“How long have you been practicing those?” Tav asked, once he was done rhyming. 

“Until it was perfect.” He smiled. “As your dear patron, Tav, I thought it only fair to warn you of the dangers ahead.” 

She raised a brow. “I can handle myself, Raphael.”

He scoffed. “Intrepid as ever. It would be pointless of me to try and bar you from entering but I can still…set the scene, as it were. Prepare you for your role.”

Tav frowned. “How are you so sure that there are dangers ahead?” 

“My dear, you should know better by now. You’ll find that I play my part in many a plot.” 

The leader of the group sighed, getting agitated. “Cut the chase, Raphael.” 

“‘Patience was always a virtue that you lacked.” He commented. “But very well. There is a creature that lurks in silence and shadow - a creature, who like me, is very much of the infernal persuasion.” 

“Should it make its way out through these very doors you are about to so brazenly open, you’ll have unleashed a pestilence unto this realm.” He took a step forward. “In truth, it is carnage incarnate. Should you find it, consider no other course of action - kill it.”

Tav eyed him, feeling that something was off. “I believe there’s more that you’re not telling me.” 

‘Let me guess.’ Tav thought. ‘It’s probably one of those fiends that hates Raphael’s guts.’ 

Raphael sighed. “This creature and I go back a long way. I admit it would be in my best interest that as well should it remain in the dark - or misplace its head, perhaps. I should not relish its reacquaintance. Let’s leave it at that.” 

“Very well.” Tav said. 

He turned towards the elf. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Astarion. When the beast is dead, I’ll consider that enough payment to translate those scars of yours.”

“A fairer deal than I expected.”

The devil smirked. “Ask Tav. I always deal fairly.” With a snap of his fingers, he was gone. 

…

Finding the orthon had been less than ideal, considering that in an instant, the devil recognized their leader. 

“You. I recognized you. You’re Raphael’s little dog, following him around, obeying all the orders he barks at you.” Pointing his hand bow at her, he shouted. “Tell me where that perfumed bastard is, before I end you.”

The others tensed up behind her, but Tav remained calm, if not mildly annoyed. Placing a hand on her hip, she looked at her nails as she addressed him. “I’d be more careful with that tongue of yours, Yurgir.” She looked at the orthon. “Considering I hold the key to setting you free.”

“What are you doing?” Tav heard Astarion whisper shout behind her. “Just kill the damned thing.” She ignored him. 

“What do you mean?” Yurgir asked. 

“Oh, Yurgir, you think I don’t know about your little contract with Raphael? About the song?” She put a finger on her chin. “How was it again? Oh - I remember: Spill all blood sworn to the night / Silence all prayers; Smother all rites -”

Before she could continue, the orthon shouted. “Stop it! Stop singing. I’ve had enough of this bloody song.” He lowered his weapon. “Tell me. I did as instructed, but the song still rattles around in my head - the contract still stands, somehow. If I break it, I’ll become Raphael’s slave forever.” 

“It’s quite simple, actually.” She explained. “Pay attention to the last rhyme. Leave none to hear it, then be set free / This song is your oath, swear it, swear it to me.” Tav looked at Yurgir with a condescending glare. “Don’t you see, Yurgir. You always hear the song.” Then, Tav smirked devilishly. “Kill yourself, be reborn in the Hells. Be free of your contract.” 

The orthon huffed. “If you’re wrong about this, I’ll claw my way out of Avernus and eat you alive - contract be damned.” He grabbed his sword, pointing it towards his chest. “Nicely played, Raphael. Bastard.” Were his final words, as he impaled himself, body turning to ash. 

Tav smiled, proud of herself. 

“Does that count as killing him? It better count.” Astarion said and Tav nodded. 

“That was…impressive.” Shadowheart said. 

“Well, when you live with a devil for a long time, you learn a thing or two.” 

“So the song was the contract? And how did you know about the loophole?” Wyll asked. 

Tav turned towards him. “To answer your first question, indeed it was. Parchment can burn, oral agreements aren’t worth the tongues they’re waggled upon. A song lingers.” She remembered that those were Raphael’s words, when she asked him as to why a song. “And about the loophole, well, it’s simple. I was the one who helped my master come up with the rhymes.” She shrugged. “I guess that’s the luck of having an ex-bard as a warlock.” 

Wyll said nothing, only nodding along as Tav moved and began looting the place. He felt as if everyday, there was a new side to Tav that he’d never seen before. 

…

Raphael was quick to show up back at camp, praising Tav for how cleverly she avoided a direct confrontation with the orthon and telling Astarion of Cazador’s plans. As the vampire left the two of them alone, the devil took the moment to speak with his warlock privately, bringing her close to a river nearby the camp. 

“Tell me, how have you been?”

She eyed him up and down, suspiciously. Raphael was not the type to ask this sort of thing - at least, not out of the goodness of his heart. “Never been better.” She lied. 

“Truly?” He raised a brow. “Because I have this picture on my head - of you tossing and turning in the middle of the night, thinking strange things, dreaming strange dreams.” Raphael gestured. “And there’s this little voice inside your head asking: Is this my will or is it the worm’s? But you have no answer and no way of knowing.” 

“Get to the point, Raphael.” 

He took a step forwards, nose almost brushing with hers. “The point, dear Tav, is that you’ll do good to remember that there’s only one voice you should listen to: Mine.” 

Raphael moved back. “I’ll be seeing you very soon.” He snapped his fingers and he was gone. 

[summerwritesfics]

🍔You’re Loveable, So Loveable But You’re Just Troubled

Pairing: Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang/Harumi Hasashi Length: 2252 Words Rating: Mature Warnings: Canon Divergence, Angst, Changing Sheets, Domestic, Trauma, Recovery, Blood and Injury, Blood, Injury Recovery @anyfandomgoesbingo: Fresh Sheets

Summary: Kuai Liang accidentally get’s blood over his bedsheets, and worries what Hanzo & Harumi’s reaction will be.

AFG Mixed Bingo Masterlist

Notes: This is the last oneshot I have in my backlog Whoooo!! That means everything else I need to post is chapters to longfics! It’s genuinely gonna feel so good to finally be free of this backlog. Also when this was originally intended to be posted, unfortunately a family emergency came up and I wasn’t able to finish editing. 😅 So if the editing is a bit all over the place, I’m sorry it’s was a rough 24 hours lol. Title is from I Am Not A Robot by Marina.

Kuai groaned as he stirred. His face absolutely was killing him, but maybe if he asked Harumi nicely enough she would let him have another painkiller today. He’d been good, and not asked for a few days. The Lin Kuei would have never given them to him, no matter how badly he was hurt, so he didn’t wish to push his luck.

Just because the Hasashi’s had been nice to him so far, it didn’t mean he could just let his guard down.

As he pushed himself to sit up, he realised the bandage that had been covering his face had come loose in the night. He sighed, pulling its remains off. He would be able to replace it soon anyway. As the gauze pulled away, he blinked, slowly opening both his eyes. His vision on his right side was still blurred, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever get his full vision back in it.

He felt something drip down his chin and he paused.

Reaching a hand to his wound, he winced from the sting, and as he brought it in front of his face, he saw blood covering his fingers. Clearly he’d managed to reopen the injury in his sleep. He had been doing that a lot lately, it was no wonder Hanzo was concerned it wouldn’t heal up correctly. Maybe he should have taken the offer of seeing a Doctor and getting stitches.

As he went to get up to deal with the issue, his eyes were drawn to a dark red spot on the pillow case.

He stopped breathing. The blood had seeped through his bandages and stained the case. And as his eyes trailed down, not just the pillow case. The bed sheets were covered in large splatters of red. Blood everywhere. It almost looked like someone had been murdered.

He had no idea how he’d gotten so much blood everywhere, or even how the injury had bled that much in the night. And somehow, any concern he should have had over his own injury was overshadowed by one single thought.

Harumi-San is going to kill me.

If there was one thing he’d learnt about Harumi since he’d started living with the Hasashi’s, it was that she was very house proud. Everything tended to be orderly and neat. She definitely would not appreciate her sheets being left in such a state.

What the hell am I going to do?

He couldn’t even begin to come up with a plan before there was a soft knock on the door, followed by it opening. He turned around in time to see Harumi slowly make her way in.

“Good morning, Kuai Liang, I just wanted to-” Her friendly morning greeting was cut off when she actually saw the state of Kuai and the bed. She muttered something in Japanese, abandoning whatever she was previously about to say as she hurried to Kuai’s side. “Oh. Oh goodness. Sweetheart, what happened?”

“I- I’m sorry.” He immediately went into overdrive. Every mistake he’d ever made played out in his head, with the following punishments from the Lin Kuei Grandmaster. Harumi wasn’t him, but no amount of telling himself that could stop the memories and that fear of failure resurfacing. “I- I know I’ve ruined your sheets. I’ll clean them, I’ll get them sorted, I-”

“My sheets?” Harumi questioned, close enough now that she could cup Kuai’s chin. “Sweetie, I’m talking about you. Your injury reopened.”

“My… oh.” He reached his hand to the wound, wincing in pain as his fingers found the opening. When he pulled them back, there was fresh blood on them, he was still bleeding quite profusely.

“Come here,” Harumi softly ordered, taking Kuai’s hands in her own, and gently pulling him to his feet.

She led him to the door, and through the corridor. Hanzo walked out of the bathroom just seconds before Harumi and Kuai reached it. His head jerked like he’d been taken unawares, but relaxed when he realised there was no danger. Or at least, he relaxed until he saw Kuai’s face, at which point his eyes widened and he bared his teeth.

He turned back to the bathroom, holding the door open so Harumi could usher Kuai Liang inside. They led him to a bench inside, sitting him on it. Hanzo was at the medicine cabinet, searching for the first aid kit, while Harumi was looking closely at his injury.

“What happened?” Hanzo asked, as he finally found the kit. He walked over, placing it beside Kuai Liang.

“I- I don’t know,” Kuai admitted, hanging his head low. “I woke up and it was like this.”

Harumi sighed hard, turning to Hanzo, “I don’t think we can keep going like this. He really needs stitches. We should go to Akemi.”

“I’ll bandage him up for now then, hopefully it’ll stop the bleeding a bit,” Hanzo replied, pulling out some padding and gauze. He held the padding up, measuring the amount he would need to cover the whole wound.

All three remained silent as Hanzo cut the padding, placing it over Kuai’s eye. Harumi held it in place as Hanzo grabbed the gauze, wrapping it around Kuai’s head a couple of times. Once satisfied he grabbed a pin to hold it in place for the time being. Both Hasashi’s pulled away, observing their work.

“That should hold,” Hanzo declared, brushing his hands together. “We should get to the doctors as soon as possible though.”

A strange cold came over Kuai Liang, white sheets covered in red in his mind's eye. He needed to deal with that before they left. If he could deal with it now, then maybe by the time they were done with the doctor’s, then they’d have forgotten about it and wouldn’t get as mad at him.

“Right, let’s-”

“No,” Kuai interrupted Harumi, whose face dropped in shock at how sharp his tone had been. “No. Not yet.”

“Kuai Liang, you need-”

“No,” Kuai hissed, pushing himself to stand and pushing past the couple towards the door. He made a mad dash towards his room again, grimacing at the unholy mess that waited for him. If he didn’t know what happened, he’d genuinely believe someone had been horrifically harmed here.

He made his way over to the bed, hands gripping the sheets as he began to try and yank them off the bed. It was a struggle, they kept getting caught on the corner’s. His hands were shaking, and he could feel his chest heaving. All he had to do was deal with this, then everything would be fine.

“Honey, honey,” Harumi called to him as she ran to his side. She tried to take his hands in her own, but he yanked them roughly from her. “That doesn’t matter, please.”

“It does matter,” Kuai insisted, once more trying to pull them off and making a strange strangled sound as he still couldn’t seem to fucking get them off. “I don’t want you to be angry with me.”

“I’m not angry with you,” Harumi stated, shaking her head like she couldn’t understand where this was coming from.

“You will be though.” Kuai finally managed to get the sheet unstuck from the corner, bundling it up into his arms. “I fucked up! I always fuck up! And when I fuck up, I get…”

The word got caught in the back of his throat, so hard he almost choked on it. He stared down at the sheets in his arm, the blood staining them. How often had he bled on his sheets at The Lin Kuei temple? How often had he been screamed at for it? How useless was he if he couldn’t even do something as simple as keeping his bed sheets clean?

His breathing hitched. He really did not want the Hasashi’s to be as angry with him as The Lin Kuei used to get.

Harumi placed a hand over his, and he turned his head to look at her. He was equal parts relieved and devastated that the only emotion shining through her eyes was concern.

“Okay. Let’s deal with the sheets,” she softly said, taking them from Kuai’s arms. As she did so, Hanzo walked to the bed, pulling off the pillow case and throwing it over to her. “We’ll put fresh ones on, and then, can we please take you to the Doctor?”

Kuai paused, before slowly nodding. Harumi closed her eyes and nodded in return, before turning to take the sheets out of the room, presumably to set them to soak somewhere. Hanzo meanwhile was in the closet, pulling out fresh sheets to replace them with.

He shook it out, holding two corners, one in each hand. Kuai went to grab the other end of them. Hanzo took the head of the bed, while Kuai took the foot, holding them still as Hanzo hooked the sheet’s into the corners of the bed. Once they were secure, Kuai Liang took the chance to do the same to the ones he was holding. And like that, the deed was done. The bed was as good as new.

Hanzo grabbed a new pillow case, and as he began to shove the pillow inside, he asked “does that make you feel better?”

“Yes,” Kuai replied, although there was still nagging in his mind. The blood still needed to be cleaned off the old sheets. The realisation at how much work it would be to get them clean again would hit soon. “I know it probably doesn’t make sense to you but…”

“Kuai Liang,” Hanzo softly spoke, going to stand beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I promise you, she’s not angry about this.”

“I always make people angry, eventually,” Kuai whispered, resigned to that fact in his life. He couldn’t remember a time when people didn’t eventually lose what little patience they had for him. Even Bi-Han lost his temper with Kuai on a frequent basis. There was maybe an exception with Tomas and Cyrax? He could remember them being slightly frustrated at times, but never outright furious. “And when I make people angry, I get hurt.”

“I do understand that after what you’ve been through, that you can’t just take my word, but I do hope one day you will trust us enough to know…” Hanzo took a deep breath. “I hope you will one day know there is nothing you could ever do to make us want to hurt you. One day, you will never have to fear anger, and be reassured that any that does bubble to the surface is temporary and will fade with time.” He took Kuai’s hands in his own, holding them to his chest. “You will see. When we return from the Doctor’s, nothing will happen and you will be fine. One day, we will heal the wounds they left you with, emotional and physical.” He kept Kuai’s hands with one hand, while the other cupped his cheek. “You deserve to live a life free of fear, Kuai Liang. And one day, you will live that life.” Hanzo smiled slightly. “And like a Phoenix, you will rise.”

Kuai felt himself choke up a little, he could feel tears welling in his eyes. “You… You really aren’t angry with me?”

“Not with you,” Hanzo assured him, thumb rubbing circles into his skin. “If anything, I am angry on your behalf, at those who shaped these fears inside you.” Kuai closed his eyes, nuzzling into Hanzo’s hand. He hated to admit it, but it did feel nice. “I wish life had been kinder to you, Kuai Liang. You did not deserve the agony you have faced.”

Kuai wasn’t sure how to reply to that. It was hard to not believe he deserved everything, when that was all he was ever told. Still, Hanzo spoke with such conviction that almost made Kuai doubt everything he’d been told. Maybe Hanzo was right, maybe he didn’tdeserve what The Lin Kuei did to him, maybe neither of them would be angry at him.

Maybe from the ashes that The Lin Kuei left of him, he could rebuild himself.

Like a phoenix.

He liked how that sounded.

“Thank you,” Kuai whispered, hoping he sounded as grateful as he was. One day, he’d find a way to repay the Hasashi’s for everything they’d done for him.

“Is everything okay?” Harumi’s voice called out, and when Hanzo and Kuai turned to look, she was standing in the doorway. The small smile on her face indicated she already knew everything was fine now.

“Yes, Harumi-San,” Kuai replied, bowing his head slightly. He felt ever so foolish for his previous behaviour. “I’m sorry that I was short with you. It was unfair of me to take out my anxieties on you.”

“I accept your apology,” she softly spoke, and for once, Kuai Liang actually let himself believe she was sincere. “Come on, let’s get that wound seen to, shall we?”

Kuai broke away from Hanzo’s hold, and began walking towards Harumi, Hanzo following behind him. Once he was close enough, Harumi took his hand, and something in the way she held onto him made it click that Hanzo was right about everything. Her touch was so gentle, like he was made of glass and she was terrified of breaking him. He let her guide him through the house and out the door, Hanzo staying just a few steps behind at all times.

Maybe I really don’t have to be afraid anymore.

[prettyboyeddiemunson]

3 and 8 for writing prompts. Eddie and the Catholic Reader for your series please!

note: this is an au within an au! meaning, this is likely not gonna be part of the main series, and just an au of the series! and, as per usual, reader & all characters are 18+! ❤️

—————-

The dreaded day had come, when The Hideout’s star groupie set her sights on Eddie.

Her name had been Teresa, but everyone called her Tipsy. y/n didn’t know why, exactly, but she could venture a guess. She was undeniably beautiful, too—pale skin like glass, gorgeous red hair, green eyes, a body that would fare well in a world full of rockstars, long legs, prominent cheekbones. y/n had heard about Tipsy from other bands that played The Hideout, the ones Eddie had been friends with. She hadn’t shown her face at a Corroded Coffin show before that night, and y/n wondered if it was because she deemed the members not to her tastes. But Eddie, now twenty-two and working on making it big with his band, would be ripe for her pickings. He had it all—good looks, tongue & nipple piercings, tattoos, long hair, a frontman persona, a sexy voice.

A talent scout was allegedly coming tonight to watch them play, and y/n was hoping for smooth sailing, a night to watch her fiancé play his heart out with his band and celebrate after. But what she was met with was the sight of Tipsy, standing at the front of the stage in y/n’s usual spot, having a chat with Jeff. Good, y/n thought. Jeff is single, and he has nothing to tie him down. Eddie, on the other hand, was very taken, and rage bubbled up inside of her at the very notion of the woman trying to flirt with him. She hated to say that she was feeling jealous, but that was exactly what she was beginning to feel.

Tipsy then set her sights on Gareth, who immediately shot down her advances. Next was the other friend, who seemed as into it as Jeff had, and then there was Eddie. He was still sound-checking his guitar and mic, getting everything ready so that the performance tonight would go off without a hitch. He wasn’t even paying attention to Tipsy, or anyone else; he was lost in his own world, in the prospect that tonight could change his life forever. His tongue was poking out as he dialed up his amp, then back down, trying to find the perfect volume. y/n sat at the bar and watched the interaction closely, and she could feel white-hot anger rising as she saw how Tipsy was looking at Eddie. She circled him as a shark did with prey, the lusty, hungry look on her face nearly sending y/n off that stool.

“Hello there, handsome,” she said to Eddie, biting her red-stained lower lip. “Looking good with that guitar.”

“Huh?” Eddie asked, turning to see who was speaking to him. “Oh, uh…thanks, I guess?”

“Looks like you know your way around an instrument,” Tipsy said, running her fingertips, which were topped with red Lee press-ons, over the neck of his guitar. “I’ll bet you know your way around a lot more, too, don’t you?”

“I suppose,” he said with a shrug, smiling softly at her. “Who are you, again?”

“Teresa,” she said, holding out a hand for him to shake. “Everyone calls me Tipsy, though; truthfully, I prefer the nickname, so don’t be afraid to call me that. Or anything else you want; I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“Would you play the part of the girl who backed off?” Eddie asked. “I’m engaged—“

“Is she here?” Tipsy interrupted. “I don’t see any girls around here. She wouldn’t have to know.”

“Look, I’m sure you’re a nice girl,” Eddie said, and he froze when her fingers ran through his hair. “But she’s the love of my life. I would never flirt with, kiss, or fuck any other woman. Ever. Whether she was around or not.”

“Oh, come on,” Tipsy said. “Just one time. I’ve been told I give amazing blowjobs.”

“Congratulations,” Eddie said, turning his attention back to his guitar. y/n was watching the entire interaction from afar, full of pure, unbridled rage. “I’m sure my friend Jeff or my other friend would definitely be interested in that. They’re single; me, and also my drummer, are not. We each have a fiancé, so you’re going to have to excuse us for not wanting to fuck you.”

Tipsy’s fingers ran over Eddie’s chest, before caressing over his biceps. That’s all it took for y/n, who sprang into action immediately. She sat down the Coke she was drinking, and made her way to the stage. She ran up there, before grabbing Eddie’s arm and swinging him around to face her. His expression went from uncomfortable to joyous, and she smashed their lips together in a hard, passionate kiss. She mewled against his lips, her hands tangling in his hair as her tongue delved into his mouth. He groaned pleasurably, before drawing away with reluctance. He expected Tipsy to be gone, but she still stood there, watching it all with a raised brow and a look on her face that Eddie couldn’t identify.

“Who’s your new friend?” y/n asked, not even bothering to hide the venom in her tone. “Looks like she got lost on the way to the Motley Crue concert.”

“Oh, this is, uh….Tipsy, right?” Eddie asked. “Her real name is Teresa, but she likes being called Tipsy instead.”

“And who are you?” Tipsy asked, eyeing y/n up & down in jealousy. “He just told me he had a fiance.”

y/n laughed, holding up her left hand to show off her ring. “I AM the fiance, dumbass. Did he also tell you we have a baby on the way? I’m almost five months pregnant, so…”

Tipsy looked between she & Eddie, before biting the inside of her cheek. “Didn’t think that cheap was his look.”

“Hm, must be why he didn’t go for you, then,” y/n said smugly, her expression telling Tipsy that she was ready for a fight.

“I just know his dick is big,” Tipsy provoked, looking at Eddie as she said it. “Something to really fill a woman up, so fucking well.”

“Oh, it’s massive, actually,” y/n said, moving closer to the other woman. “Too bad you’ll never get to see it.”

“Who says I won’t?” Tipsy asked.

“Alright, enough,” Eddie said, standing between them. “It was lovely meeting you, Tipsy. But you really should go bother someone else now, before my fiancé decides she wants to fight.”

“Bring it on,” y/n said. “He isn’t some fucking toy you can play with, and he also isn’t some fucking piece of meat for you to eat when you feel like it. He’s my fiancé, the father of my baby, and you’re not going to treat him as anything other than a human being. Now, not so kindly, fuck right off.”

With one last distasteful look at y/n, Tipsy walked away. y/n still felt anger, and she looked at Eddie, who was also shaken by the entire ordeal. “Shit, y/n. I’m so sorry—“

“Were you flirting with her?” y/n asked.

“What?!”

“You heard me, Eddie. What was going on over here?”

“I wasn’t flirting with her! You know I would never do that.”

“She’s pretty, though.”

“She’s not pretty at all to me, and she also isn’t you. Stop being so jealous, baby.”

“I’m not jealous.”

Eddie sighed, pulling her to his chest in a hug. “Baby, you’ve got nothing to worry about, okay? Not from her, or any other woman on this planet. You’re the only one I want, and nothing & no one will ever change that.”

“Do you really mean that?” y/n asked.

“Of course I do,” Eddie said, laying a hand on her stomach before kneeling in front of her to kiss it. “You, and this little one growing inside of you, are my entire world. I would never do anything to endanger that. I’m going to marry you, y/n; you know I never wanted that before you, because of my parents and their shitty marriage. But you changed that for me; I would never, in a billion years, cheat on you in any way. Ever.”

“I love you so much, Eddie,” she said. “You always know just what to say to set me at ease.”

“I love you, too,” he said, standing up. “And today, just now, I learned how much you never want to lose me, either. Getting jealous like that—“

“I wasn’t jealous!”

“You were. It’s okay, but you have no reason to be.”

“Eddie, I was mad. Not jealous.”

“Whatever you say. Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Was I ever going to tell you what?”

Eddie smirked, drawing her close and giving her a hard kiss. “That I have a massive dick. I was not aware of this.”

she rolled her eyes, giggling as she did so. “I only said that to throw in her face that I get to have you.”

“So it isn’t big?” Eddie asked, feigning disappointment.

“Well, it’s big enough,” she said.

“Just enough?” Eddie asked with a playful pout.

“Well…” she said, grinning at him. “Maybe we should go backstage so I can see it again. Seems I need my memory refreshed a bit.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Eddie said, his lips finding her neck as his hands caressed her sides. “Let’s go.”

———

mini taglist: @littledemondani @wroteclassicaly @andvys @boldlyvoid @sunkillerdreamer @emmyshortcake @hbaramas @singledadharrington @munsonsbelova @courtingchaos @strangermarvelss @corrodedcorpsess @happylilthought @persephonevlahos

[lutiaslayton]

Professor Layton and the Eternal Diva

ＰＡＲＴ　１１

〚ＦＩＲＳＴ〛〚ＰＲＥＶ〛〚ＮＥＸＴ〛

Disclaimer: This is a fan-translation for the Japan-exclusive novellisation of the movie Professor Layton and the Eternal Diva. The original novel was written by Aya Matsui under the supervision of Akihiro Hino, and belongs to Level-5.

This translation only aims to be a pleasant read for non-Japanese fans, nothing more: I made a few deliberate changes while translating in order to get the writing style closer to what is usually found in English fanfictions, as the Japanese storytelling can sometimes be different than what we are used to.

＊ The Island of Ambrosia

How long had we been on the lifeboat?

It felt like such a long time that I began to wonder if the explosion on the Crown Petone had even occurred.

Was it real? Or had it been a dream that all twelve of us here had seen at the same time?

There were only twelve of us left. First there were me, the professor, Janice, Mr Whistler, the seven-year-old Melina, Amelie, who was said to be a British chess champion as well as a high school student, and Mr Brock with his iconic backpack…

And then, there were the people who had taken the other lifeboat: the former captain O’Donnell; Mr Bargland, who looked in such good health, it was hard to believe that he only had six months left to live; there was the gorgeous Mrs Raidley, and another woman, Miss Annie Dretche, who wrote mystery novels…

And finally, believe it or not, there was Mr Starbuck, the former footballer from the national team who was known as the ‘Legendary Left Leg.’ Any member of the national team was a star among stars in the whole United Kingdom, but Mr Starbuck could not bear talking, or even hearing about his past carreer.

Annie secretly told me why: his ‘Legendary Left Leg’ was tattered with scars from the surgery he had received after an injury… and because of it, he could no longer play football. He had an unwavering determination to play football once more, and this was why he was trying to obtain eternal life.

I had woken up in the lifeboat during the early hours of dawn, and Annie, riding on the other lifeboat next to ours, had been the only other person awake. With nothing better to do, we had spent the time chatting.

By that point, the boats had slowed down, and were now leisurely headed towards the island that had appeared in the distance.

I was hungry and thirsty, but still had enough energy left to talk. So Annie also told me this: Mr Bargland was the president of a giant trading company, the ‘World Fleet’ corporation, and Mrs Raidley was the widow of a billionaire as well as a queen of high society. This lady had said that she was participating in this puzzle-solving game for the sake of making her beauty shine forever…

“I am quite partial to gossip magazines,” Annie concluded, winking at me with a mischievous smile.

Annie herself was a mystery writer, and fairly well-known in the United Kingdom; even I knew that any mystery written by Annie Dretche would always be number one in the sales charts upon release. My mum was a big fan of her works.

“Annie, the first film I ever watched was ‘Murder on the Thames.’ I saw it with my mum in a small cinema in Misthallery.”

I had been kept on the edge of my seat from start to finish, wondering how the protagonist would be able to solve the perfect crime in the River Thames. When I told her, she flashed a very happy smile.

“I think it’s a pretty good mystery, if I do say so myself.”

But then she fell silent. She looked in the distance and murmured:

“Luke, if I could have eternal life, what do you think I would do?”

“Huh? Um, I don’t know…”

It did not immediately occur to me.

“I am going to keep writing masterful mysteries, forever. I believe I can.”

As she said this, her eyes were sparkling against the horizon. I wondered… How old was she?

Definitely younger than Captain O’Donnell. About as old as Mr Bargland and Mr Whistler…

And yet, I thought that in this very moment… she was thinking about death.

Maybe she had too much talent, and not enough time, to live a normal life. There were so many different reasons for people to wish for eternal life…

With this in mind, I too continued to stare silently at the horizon.

We arrived on the island together.

Mr Bargland looked around cautiously. “What on Earth is this island…”

“At first glance, it seems to be uninhabited…” Captain O’Donnell mused.

At that moment, Mr Brock began to dash off. As he was running, he was muttering in excitement:

“Impossible! Could it be? Finally…?”

At the end of his course, he hugged a rock and exclaimed:

“There’s no doubt about it… This is Ambrosia!”

Ambrosia!? I was not the only one to be astonished.

“Ambrosia, you say?”

“Or should I say, this is where Ambrosia used to be…”

For the very first time since I met him, Mr Brock lowered his backpack and pulled something out of it with great care. It was a scrapbook, and it seemed to be an extremely important one to him.

“This is a scrapbook dedicated to the immortal kingdom of Ambrosia, which I, Marco Brock, amateur historian, cobbled together in my spare time from work!”

“It’s so thick…”

“So you’re a History geek…”

Mr Starbuck and Mrs Raidley were both taken aback, but Mr Brock was so engrossed in turning the pages that he didn’t seem to have heard their voices at all. Instead, he soon took out a sheet of paper from one of the pages and aligned it close to the rock he was facing.

“Just look at this! It’s the same crest!”

He was holding a drawing of the incomplete coat of arms. And indeed, there was something carved into the rock that seemed to have the same symbols.

The professor walked up to him and gazed at the crest.

“Indeed, this looks like the coat of arms of Ambrosia. I have seen it before in Dr Schrader’s study.”

Mr Brock’s voice was trembling with excitement and emotion.

“See? It’s here! I finally got my wish!”

Captain O’Donnell was also deeply moved. He looked around the island once more, this time with a completely new expression.

“I never thought I would be able to set foot here in my lifetime… But I see now. This is Ambrosia…”

Mr Bargland’s eyes squinted… then sparkled.

“So the elixir of immortality is hidden somewhere on this island?”

At these words, everybody came still, as if frozen in place. After all, they had just realised… This had been our intended destination all along.

It was then that Mrs Raidley’s voice rang out. “Wait, look over there!”

I followed her gaze, and saw that a table was set up under a tree on the beach. Food and drinks were laid out, ready for a meal.

“Food…”

“And wine, too…”

Mr Starbuck and Mrs Raidley both voiced their excitement, walking up to the table. We all followed suit.

A message written on a small card that had been placed between the rows of treats caught my eye.

“To all participants in the game…” I read out loud.

“Thank goodness… I was so thirsty.”

“Is this a reward for solving those puzzles?”

Everyone competed for a chair, rushing to eat. Ms Bargland was the first to pick up the wine, and he eagerly began to pour it into a glass.

“Or perhaps… Could this be a new puzzle?”

At Amelia’s words, everybody stopped their hands. Mr Bargland’s wine gurgled and overflowed from his glass.

But then, Melina reached for a plate of fruit and… began to eat, carefree. I had never seen this type of fruit before, I wondered if it could be native to this island… Regardless, that was what she was eating. I couldn’t take it any longer…

“…Well, who cares, I’m eating!”

We all took Mr Bargland’s words as permission to eat. We were simply too hungry.

They say that hunger makes the greatest kind of seasoning, and indeed, never had I ever had such a delicious meal.

“Oh, it’s so good!”

“Really…”

Janice smiled, as she tasted the same fruit that Melina had picked earlier. The professor too closed his eyes when I grabbed a handful of food. Usually, he would casually say something like, “A gentleman should always watch his manners, Luke.” But it seemed like today, he would let it slide.

After the meal, I went on a stroll along the beach. My stomach was full, I was happy, and I just… well, I kind of wanted to be alone, away from everyone.

I found many beautiful shells on the beach. And there was no one to pick them up, on this desert island… Well, I could afford to keep one or two.

I could hear Janice’s voice in the distance. She was enjoying a chat with the professor.

“This all feels like a dream… The game, this island… and eating outside like this, with the great Professor Layton, looking at the sea side by side…”

“The part about eating outside… would be quite normal for the archaeological survey class.” Somehow, it sounded like the professor had been saying this as if he were actually asking a question.

“Ruins and beaches are two different things,” Janice replied with a shrug. “But I suppose that ruins are more romantic to you.”

This reminded me of the fact that she used to take classes with him when she was a student. That was years before I met him… She probably had many memories of her school days that she remembered fondly. She probably missed those times by his side.

This suddenly made me feel… very lonely.

I decided to walk away so I wouldn’t hear their conversation anymore. Melina was picking up shellfish too, just a bit further. When looking at her like this, she seemed to be even younger than just seven years old. Did this child really say that she had eternal life…?

I walked up to her and tried to offer the shell I had picked up earlier, but she wouldn’t even look at me.

I pressed the shell to my ear and crouched down beside her, before saying:

“If you do this, you can hear the sound of the waves.”

Melina remained silent.

“Well, that’s what I’ve been told, but… I was never able to hear them properly.” This was an honest confession.

“…I hear them,” she muttered.

Her words surprised me. “Really?”

She brought a shell to her ear and began to sing.

♪

Hm-hm-hm-hm… Hm-hm-hm-hm… Hm-hm-hm-hm-hm-hm-hm-hm-hm-hm-hm-hm…

The melody was somewhat melancholic, but very beautiful.

I sighed. “That’s a pretty song.”

“…The sea taught me.”

“The sea?”

Did she really hear the song just now, coming out of the shell?

I was about to ask, but the howling of a beast was heard from somewhere.

I looked around in all directions with a start. Just this instant, this had been the sound of a ferocious, cruel… yes. The voice of a wolf.

“Did you just hear…?”

When I turned my head back to her, Melina was gone. I looked around, but she was nowhere to be seen.

I ran up to Mr Whistler, shouting in panic: “Mr Whistler, Melina’s disappeared! She was right here a second ago…”

He did not bat an eye. “She must have gone off to play elsewhere.”

‘Elsewhere’…? He was so careless!

“What is that look for? She will come back.”

I wanted to object, but suddenly… I heard that voice again.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your little break is about to end.”

At the same time, a pack of wolves darted out of the bushes behind me.

“P-Professor! Wolves!”

Mrs Raidley screamed. When the man’s voice rang out again, it was as if he could see how upset and scared we were; and it was tinged with a sinister laugh.

“Now, shall you all be the wolves’ dessert next?”

“R-r-run!”

Everyone else ran as fast as they could, and they did not need Captain O’Donnell to do it. But I stayed behind. The wolves growled and slowly came closer, and closer…

That was when I was struck by a flash of inspiration. If I could try talking to them… I could talk to animals, after all.

People would sometimes ask me how I could have this ‘magical power,’ as they say… but I have been able to talk naturally with the neighbourhood dogs and cats for as long as I can remember. So when they would ask me how… I don’t really know myself. I will simply talk to them when I need to, because I can.

And in that moment, I really needed to.

I jumped in front of the wolves to protect Janice, and started talking to them.

“Grr… Gruh! Garuh! Grruh…”

In proper English… “We’re not doing anything hurtful!”

The wolves replied…

“Gahooo…”

What? Funny?

I had no idea what they were talking about. Usually, I would know for sure…?

“Professor, this isn’t right! They don’t understand me!”

“Someone must be manipulating them.”

As he said this, the professor threw sand at the wolf that tried to attack him. This scared off the pack for a small moment.

“Janice, Luke, we have to go!”

All three of us set off at full speed towards the forest, catching up with the others.

“I, I can’t, run anymore…!”

Annie sounded like she was in pain.

“…Yet you’re running anyway,” Mr Bargland huffed with disdain. “You’re stubborn, old lady.”

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[ruinedbylanadelrey]

Okkkk ceilings request cause the other one your did got my brain going

Readers dad meeting his grandchild ?

I thought about this while writing my previous post.

Definitely by accident since she cut off contact with her father. Joel doesn't work with him any more. Him and Tommy started their own contracting company.

WARNING: dbf!joel, pregnancy, doctors appointment, if u think of anymore lmk:)

ceilings

masterlist

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Domestic bliss. Something you've always wanted now have to cherish. You and Joel have a beautiful girl, Gisele. She is your entire world, she has Joel wrapped around her finger. She's a spitting image of you.

At first you felt like you were a bad mom because you didn't know what to do and you didn't have your mother around to help you. Joel reassured you that you were doing everything right. He was such great support for you entering parenthood.

"Good morning beautiful girl," You kissed the top of her head as you brought her out of the crib. "We have a big day, your doctor's appointment and then the grocery store and come home and play." You never did the baby talk with her, you saw her as you. A person. Joel loved how you just talked to her like she could understand you.

The doctors appointment was just a routine appointment, seeing her weight and growth and the last round of her shots. You look at her and wonder how she is already almost one.

"I swear she is the healthiest baby I've had." The doctor cooed while taking her weight. You felt another piece of weight chip off your shoulders. "That means she is getting a lot of love," of course she was. She is just everything to you and Joel.

"Baby doll?" the voice your father called out while you were in the produce section of H-E-B (it's the best grocery store ever. Only in Texas and one in Mexico). You whipped your head towards him and felt your stomach turn. You haven't seen the man in 2 years, he looked older and seemed like a ghost.

Your daughter babbled at you and pulled on the necklace you had on. "Hi." you breathed out. "Oh my god..." His eyes danced to Gisele in the cart. "Dad, this is Gisele your granddaughter." You pick her up and hold her. Her eyes sparkle and she reaches out to her grandfather. "Can I?" he asks before you hand her off.

"Yes." You watch him hold her and you saw the look on his face. He's studying the faces she's making. "She's looks just like you but she has Joel's hair." you laugh and noticed that she does. “She’s just beautiful.” Your dad smiles at her.

“I’m sorry for everything…I don’t expect you to let me back in your life but I just wanted you to know.” You looked at your father and his face seemed genuine but you can’t trust him. Life has been easier without him. “I know…” You choked back tears, kissed his cheek, and took your daughter back in your arms.

-

“How was the appointment?” Joel asked quietly as he put Gisele down for her nap. You were debating on telling him that about your dad meeting her. He could be mad or not care.

You both walk out of her room and to your bedroom. You made sure you had the baby monitor on before you got undressed and into your house clothes. “She’s very healthy and everyone loves her at the doctors office.” You talk to through the mirror as you take off your jewelry. “Of course she’s healthy she’s a Miller.” you giggled at his pride for his family. “Joel…” you decided to tell him. He has the right to know.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Joel stood up and wrapped his arms around your waist. You melt into his touch “Don’t get mad.” you warn him, he tensed up and a worried look grew on his face. “I ran into my dad today and he met his granddaughter…” you looked into his eyes to figure out what he was thinking.

Joel let out a deep breath and shook his head. “I knew I should’ve went with you today. I had a feeling that something would happen.” Joel unwrapped himself from you and started to pace. “Joel, it was harmless.” “He could’ve hurt you, he could’ve hurt our child.” you were taken back by his thought of your father ever trying to hurt you. “He would never hurt me, and if he tried something I would protect her. God you’re unbelievable.” You grew frustrated by his outlandish comments.

“You don’t know that man anymore.” you looked at Joel like he grew a second head. To you it seemed like a harmless interaction, after all he is your father and meeting his granddaughter.

But to Joel, it was a threat to your life with him. To his family. “He never was a violent person. He never laid a hand on me. I can’t believe you would think he would hurt me or her. I’m done talking about this.” You storm out your room and went to check on the baby.

Joel knew he upset you by his hyper imaginative thoughts. He knows your father, he was his best friend for over 6 years. He knows he wasn’t that kind of person. He follows you to the nursery and you were sitting on the rocking chair next to the crib. Joel could see the tears staining your face.

“Darlin’, I just worry about the two of you whenever I’m not with you. I’m sorry.” Joel knelt down to meet your eyes. You turn your head and look at your daughter sleeping away. “Look at me, little girl.” He takes your chin into his finger and turns your head to look at him. “I’m not helpless…” you whisper, Joel chuckles at you trying to be tough. “I know, baby. You know how protective I am of you, you’re still my little girl.” Your heart just melts at him reminding you that nothing has changed between you guys.

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck ch.182 thoughts

[Might as Well be Sittin' on the Sun]

(Contents: slight Fuuko analysis, power-scaling, speculation)

Okay, so maybe we won't be learning the Master Rules' names any time soon, but to be fair, I did kind of see that coming. After all, this was so clearly meant to be a parallel to the introduction to the Union in ch.8 and 9, and back then, we only learned three out of eight names (Tatiana, Billy and Nico), so it only seems fair that we only learn one new name here (Luck, in this case)

Speaking of parallels, Fuuko's dual rapid-firing to mirror Andy's Finger Bullets was sick, and I hope just a sample of the kind of things Fuuko can do as a gunner. Still waiting to see what the revolver Artifact's ability is, or its name for that matter!! Considering that we're introducing the (presumably) final team of antagonists and Fuuko has made it clear that the team isn't currently up to snuff to take them on, she's definitely going to need some kind of upgrade, and giving her a secondary ability seems like a great way to do that

Also, absolutely insane that Sick is the weakest of the Master Rules, and apparently by a wide margin given how everyone else was picking on him. Poor guy, falling asleep and slumping both forward and back because he's literally and permanently cut in half. That's kind of like what I end up doing while writing these posts late at night

Master Rule I questions Fuuko's motives, and we get to see another great, if subtle, Fuuko face: with a gentle smile and absolutely dead eyes, Fuuko claims that it would have been convenient for her if her bullets had reached the Master Rules, as they would have taken them all out instantly (I guess the 60-year range was one that Fuuko was really attached to, cus even 44 didn't actually kill UMA Heat). That look is simply unsettling, as I think it's the only time that Fuuko has ever said anything about intending to kill anyone or anything. She definitely isn't enjoying it, it's simply a matter-of-fact statement, but she also knows that it would mean an end to their struggles, so while it would be unfortunate in its own way, it would be the objectively best outcome

M.R. I immediately learns to appreciate Fuuko's best charm point, the fact that she's an actual lunatic behind her cute face, and offers one piece of information. Fuuko, of course, chooses to learn Andy's location, fearing the worst since he could only send a clone. We then learn that for hundreds of millions of years, Andy has been chilling on the surface of the sun, using his soul to trap the Master Rules inside

God damn, Tozuka, you told us that Victor was alone billions of years waiting for Juiz and then you said "well Andy's gotta do something more impressive!" Well you succeeded, sir, sitting in place on a ball of plasma that should completely atomize you for millions of years is definitely more intense than hanging around and fighting dinosaurs, or at least a more striking snapshot

I don't imagine I was alone in thinking that Andy and Ruin have been playing cat and mouse for the last 2 billion years, but the fact that at some point Andy found his way to the god damn SUN and just decided to park it really speaks to his willpower and commitment. I wonder if he checked out for it like Victor said he did when the Earth was just uninhabitable magma. I get the feeling that he didn't, since he was able to consciously launch a clone down to Earth, so...yeah, confirmed, I guess, Andy's been present the whole however many millions of years he's been there

Oh, and let's not forget the distance. 92 million miles, eight light minutes away, and Andy was able to accurately fire one of his fingers down to Iseult Hospital in France in the middle of the Sick fight. I don't know if his soul gives him some kind of clairvoyance like how Fuuko saw everything that happened to Andy while she was dead, but no matter how you look at it, that's some firing power!!! Sure, he's got infinite fuel by regenerating his blood repeatedly, but he's still gotta travel nearly 100 million miles with enough force to escape the gravitational pull of the GOD DAMN SUN!!! If Google is to be believed, Andy's finger bullet had to have been moving over a 1.38 million miles an hour just to reach escape velocity, though if he reached Earth in a matter of minutes, then I guess that's a pretty low bar to clear, huh?

I'm moving on from this topic, but I want it to be clear that aside from perhaps any given movement from Sun, this may well be the grandest display of power that we've ever seen in this series, and it's a surprisingly subtle one. No wonder Andy could only maintain the clone for a minute: the finger bullet was probably already around for at least ten. Hell, it definitely explains why this was "spreading his soul too thin"

Now that we've seen all of the Master Rules close-up, now I'm willing to speculate on what their identities might be

As with most people, I'm decently confident that 1 is Death, but with 2 "[reeking] of blood and guts" and being close to Luck, fans have taken to the possibility that 2 is Death to parallel with Andy and Fuuko's relationship. @your-zipper-is-down suggested that 1 might be Life or Humanity, which would definitely be interesting; for Death to be a Rule, that all living things must die, then logically there must be a preceding Rule that living things exist at all. That said, the existence of humanity might be independent of the Rules, but we'll find out sooner or later

If 2 isn't Death, then the most likely reason that she's so smelly is that she might be Pain, as alluded to by Ruin about 80 chapters ago. I think that would fit her religious visual theme pretty well, as self-flagellation and other forms of deliberate pain are commonly associated with religion. I'm also curious if those lizard-eye decals on her habit are actually her real eyes since she never seems to open the ones on her face

3 is Sex, I don't think anyone disagrees with that

We've established that 4 is Luck, which I imagine is because aside from Death, Luck is the concept most heavily associated with bringing death in the series (4 being a symbol of death). The real fun thing, though, is that Luck has a bandage on her right cheek, whereas Fuuko has one on her left! Does the bandage itself hold any significance? Does it simply serve as a visual indicator that she's Fuuko's opposite, or is there a deeper metaphysical connection between them that forces them to act as mirrors to each other? Unrelated, I imagine that Luck's halo is meant to represent the Wheel of Fortune, and likely plays into how she uses her powers

5 has a knight theme, and my best guess for that is either that it has something to do with defense/survival, like UMA Guard to represent survival instincts, or UMA Justice

6 is War. Guy looks like he uses napalm face wash, that's War.

I originally guessed that 7 would be Luck since he looks like a gambler, but now that we know this isn't the case, I'm assuming that the pocketwatch indicates that he's UMA Time. I've seen it suggested that he's UMA Past, but I really doubt that Juiz, a septuagenarian Nico and Phil were able to capture a Master Rule by themselves when Fuuko's Union couldn't beat number 10. Just doesn't seem right to me

8's design is really interesting, as she seems to be wearing a crown shaped like a ruined tower. This immediately makes me (and others like @bubhbuhlmao) think of the Tower of Babel, suggesting that she may be UMA Language, but again, could the Nico of Loop 100 really kill a Master Rule by himself? It's possible, but I don't buy it. She could be Knowledge, though that seems pretty similar to Information, so I don't know if Tozuka would want that much of an overlap. Intelligence? Wisdom? We'll see. However, given that she's wearing ruins, I do think it would be interesting if she's UMA Ruin and God just had really bad naming sense when creating our boy Unruin Ruin

9 is almost definitely Animal or Beast or something like that, but I stand by the extremely funny possibility that he's the real Clothes and Clothy is his Junior. That idea absolutely kills me

I do wonder if the Master Rule fights are going to be individual arcs like the Seasons or if it's going to be a team vs. team match like Union vs. Under, but either way, the introduction of a whole team of Master Rules definitely gives the impression that the end isn't as close as I thought. We still have a few more recruits to get, Ruin and Seal are definitely still going to be a problem, we have to clear the ten Master Rules, and only then can we fight Sun, and for all we know we still might have to fight Luna

In other words, I'm starting to think fouryearsandananime might have been a conservative estimate