#in a different way than watching as a kid

[xena-wolfgang]

we get so many little hints as to what an interesting person Rose was before she met Jack. i'm kind of mad that he is given so much credit for "freeing" her when she was already in the process of breaking free, he just gave her another reason to run away from her life

TITANIC 1997 | dir. James Cameron

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

More Doki Doki Battle Academy OP AU

even MOOROEEE of themmmmmahhhhhhh babyeyyy i even added some dialogues fir some extra flavourrrrr (kuma and bonney's gif there would be a sprite he would have in his dialogue scenes. i dont think it would be a gif like this, more like everytime you look back at him, bonney would be in a different spot)

original DDBA designs post (has more lore there, go look at it plese :3

imagining the vinsmoke/strawhat beef going like this video

design stuffs and more lore:

preface: sorry this is so much writing and im not going to grammar check it cuz aint no body got time for that.

The world of this au is like pokemon with different gyms you can fight through and beat, there's a big league of pro fighters, and there are schools for teaching you to be a better fighter.

One of the schools is called the Germa 66 Private Battle Academy, it goes from grades 1-12 and its where the Vinsmoke siblings all went too (at least until sanji broke off from the family at some point) and its run by Judge Vinsmoke, their father.

i am thinking that the Vinsmoke kids would still be genetically modified and Kuma would be a cyborg in this too.

design stuffs:

Ichiji: i tried to make him as punk as he would feasably get away with living under his father's rule. Big "combat" boots, fingerless gloves, black undershirt. He likes his style and would probably go all out if he didnt have to conform to his school uniform, thus i put a little heart on his boots.

Niji: i also made him like his style. The rings on his fingers, his nikes shoes, his big headphones. Like a gamer who thinks this is what fashion is. I think he would love listening to music too so i put his heart on his headphones.

Yonji: big stakly guy. Hes a lot more hands-on than his brothers so i put lots of emphasis on that area. i put his heart on his hand wraps because i think he would really love fighting. I think that Yonji is most like his father in that enjoyment, but i think Judge wouldnt like how casual Yonji's style is.

Reiju: y2k queen. I love this design on her so much im so bummed that she would have already graduated from the academy and i cant put her in a Hit Me Baby One More Time-esque uniform outfit, shed fucking KILL THAT SHITTT. Anyway though, reiju's heart is subtle yet in plain view, the locket around her neck. i dont think she would let anyone look at the contents but i do think that absolutly it would be her mother on one side and her brothers on the other. She wouldnt like people looking at it because that would mean someone could see that her dad isnt in there and she would get it a lot of trouble with her father about it.

Power ranger fits: i made them full on power rangers. its what they deserve. Since reiju has a butterfly motif in canon, i thought it would be fun to also give her brothers a bug motif of their own. ichiji is a wasp, niji is a dragonfly, yonji is a stag beetle. If sanji stuck around, hed probably be a lady bug lol. Also the masks they wear, the eye window part, it’s like tear tracks coming out but in a way that doesnt look like thats what they are. But it’s meant to show how judge forcing his children to be these people is causing them pain.

thank you @zethsdumpster for being my Vinsmoke specialist and helping me come up with a lot of their design stuff!

Doflamingo: i tried to make him a Nasty Nasty man. Like if a used car salesman made it big. Like if Macklemore was MackleMORE. i love the idea that he likes to tan himself, but he doesnt take any of his clothes off to do so, so he just has the absolute craziest tan lines ever. i put his hearts on the gold chain around his neck, he loves his wealth but not much else. i love the idea of him having two very expensive watches on each wrist. there may be more watches up his sleeve too. i also gave him fluffy dice around his neck, like he's one of the cars that he's selling.

Rosinante: i couldnt get away much longer without putting the heart man into the heart 'game'. i couldve went off more with the hearts of his design but i didnt want him to become nearly as flashy as his brother. i wanted him to be understated and fade into the background when doflamingo is around. he is dead in this au btw sorry :/ this is his design when he passed, but doffy's design is present day him. anyway, Rosi's hearts are everywhere, its in the outline of his big huggable fluffy coat, its on his hat thats pulling him down, it would be on his shirt too if it wasnt covered by his coat in this image.

Bonney: SHEEES SO CUUTEEEE AAAAAAAA i love her. I based her design off of Avril Lavigne with her iconic necktie/tanktop/baggy pants looks. i tried to make her outfit look like she could feasibly fit in it when she ages herself up, especially her big ol shoes. the heart in her design is in her neck tie. The stereotypical visage of a dad is a man in a tie who goes to work, and she loves her dad, so her heart is in her dad tie.

Kuma: I didn't change much of him from his design in canon, but since bonney would be more in his life in this version, i wanted to give him more visual indicators of her being there. like the height chart on his leg, or the fuzzy hat she crocheted for him (she also made her own hat for herself). Also, the pattern on his shirt is one that looks like a paw, but if you took off that outer layer, if the pattern continued, the design would be a sun, and i just think that was really clever ehe ehe.

Hancock: Basically i tried to make her the baddest bitch in the universe. My program crashed like 3 times making her which is so funny. Procreate couldnt handle her. I based her design off of Medusa. at first i had her snake be made out of marble, but it eventually wound up at Obsidian. She has no visible hearts on her design and thats because it would be the scar on her back, which she tries to hide. i like the idea that this very visibly revealing outfit would be perfectly tailored and reinforced to never move a single inch to let anyone see what theyre not supposed to. I dont know how i would justify her being able to turn people into stone in this AU, so im just not going to make a decision on whether or not she can do that.

ive been working on these designs off and on ever since i made the first post on this au and im real happy i can finally put more out.

if you got to the end of this, thank you so much for reading~ i hope you enjoyed :)

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [mlw][mdni][fingering][passionate][ex!fwb][quiet reader][slight breeding kink][light choking][hair pulling][quiet sex][no nudity][nipple play][nipple sucking][promise of pregnancy][low-key right person; wrong time][not proofread because my beta reader's asleep]

"I have a fucking kid and you didn't think to tell me?!"

Dick's voice is low, frustration bleeding into his words and his fingertips dig into his palms, blunt nails leaving crescent indentations in the flesh as he stares down at you.

The worst part is, you look so fucking nonchalant about it too.

Sitting crossed legged on the couch, a mug of steaming hot chocolate cradled in your hands and a plate of cookies resting on the surface of the coffee table. The TV plays one of the older episodes of Keeping Up With The Kardashians, and God, the sight of you so relaxed while watching trashy TV makes Dick falter in his anger.

"How do you know he's yours or even mine?"

You speak, your voice soft and gentle, despite the way your eyes burn with annoyance at the fact that Dick's just.... Standing there, in your space, his suit clinging to him like a second skin in the way it always has.

Dick leans forward, his breath fanning across the surface of your face and he gives you the opportunity to see the stormy rage that swirls in brilliant blue irises, darkened by the sense of betrayal at the fact that you've kept his son from him for so long.

"Because he looks like me. He looks fucking just. Like. Me." Dick grits the words out like they're liquid sulphur, burning his throat on the way out.

Before he lets out a breath, dropping onto the seat beside you and he cards a gloved hand through his hair.

"And he told me I look.... Romani. And proceeded to call me a 'gypsy bastard'."

Your apartment looks different from when he was here last.

Warm, pale blue walls, a dark leather sofa and a bigger TV mounted on the wall. Fuzzy blue throw pillows and the bowl of fruity gummies on the coffee table is a fun new addition, just like the drawings that line the walls of the living room, and clutter on top of the fridge.

On each drawing, Dick can make out the scribbled out 'Mommy And Me', usually in a colour that has no match in the palette and he can't deny the heaviness in his heart when he reads that.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Dick speaks softly, hands moving to carefully remove the mask from his face, tossing it onto the coffee table and he grabs one of the throw pillows, resting it on his face.

You can practically smell his emotions.

Confused, hurt, betrayed. Frustration's a big one though, and you purse your lips.

"I didn't wanna have the 'is it mine' conversation."

You speak so softly, so sweetly and it reminds Dick of how much motherhood's softened you. It reminds him of the way that you'd have pushed him out the window for showing up unannounced, but instead, you're letting him sit on your couch, and you talk.

Not argue.

You just... Talk.

"I'd know he was mine." Dick murmurs. "We were... Exclusive."

The way Dick says it makes you feel like it was more than just occasional hookups, more than the odd movie date that ended with your ankles touching your ears.

The silence between you is comfortable.

The soft pitter-patter of raindrops dropping against your aluminium window, pot plants on the terrace watered so gently and the TV continues to play, although at a much softer pace.

Dick lowers the pillow, looking at you with big, almost teary blue eyes. Eyes framed by long, inky lashes, full brows and striking hues that make you feel like your breath is dying in your throat with every passing second.

"He's beautiful."

Dick's voice is soft.

"A little bit of an asshole, but he's beautiful."

Before you can answer, before you can even fathom properly what Dick's saying, you hear the crack of a door and the shuffle of tiny feet as Riot stumbles into the living room, fists balled and rubbing at his eyes.

"Mommy, my eye." He sniffles, continuing to scratch at his eye before you let out a quiet hum, your hands hooking underneath the little boy's armpits before you tug him onto your lap.

And you open his eye, the sclera just a bit red and you hum softly.

"Dickie, can you put on the light, please?"

Dick doesn't question the nickname, because it makes his heart swell in a way that has him internally screeching, even as he reaches for the overhead lamp and switches it on.

And your lips purse as you blow on Riot's eye, watching the way his lashes flutter and his eyelid twitches before a teary droplet plops down his cheek.

And you wipe it away, feeling the distinct strand of cat fur against the pad of your thumb.

"We don't even own a cat." You mumble, before using your index knuckle to wipe the watery eye.

"All better?" You muse softly and Riot nods his head, before glancing at Dick with sleepy eyes, lashes fluttering even as he clambers across your lap, and into Dick's.

And his tiny arms wrap around as much of Dick's midsection as he can, his chubby and rosy cheek pressed against Dick's chest.

And the man's expression crumples.

Brows twitch and eyes begin to sting as one of his long fingered hands move to rest on Riot's back, feeling the soft fabric of his pajamas through the glove. And Riot lets out a content sigh.

"Deadbeat gypsy." The words are muffled, but they're audible enough for Dick's lips to part in shock, brows raising before letting out a bark of laughter.

Before he glances at you.

"He's just like you." Dick murmurs, before watching as Riot climbs from his lap, and heading back to his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

There's a still silence in the air, only filled by the sound of Kim's voice and rain droplets crashing down outside before Dick clears his throat.

"My— uh...— my patrol ended early." He murmurs softly.

"Do you wanna watch a movie?"

The way you're slot under Dick's bicep, your head against his chest and your legs tossed across his lap makes him feel 4 seconds away from crashing out. Because God, you're so warm and so much softer.

Dick stares unabashedly at the way your plush thighs brush against his when you shift to make yourself comfortable, he feels the way heavier breasts push against his side as you snuggle closer, before ultimately decided to pull the quilt over the both of you.

Your eyes remain glued to the TV, occasionally letting out snorts of laughter as you watch Grown Ups for what you could guess would be the 60th time on your lifetime.

But you can feel Dick's eyes.

Following the curve of your face, watching the way your lashes fan out and watching the way breaths leave your soft, glossy lips. And before Dick can even fathom it, his arm behind you is shifting, hand moving to wrap around your neck, long fingers stretching effortlessly and he brushes his thumb along your pulse, the action causing your head to tilt up and you meet his gaze.

And Dick's lips are pressed against yours, his fingers twitching against your neck before leaving the column of your throat, instead, shifting until you're resting back against the sofa.

You can't refuse. Well shit, you don't want to refuse.

Dick's kissing you like he's dying tomorrow. Lips pressed against yours, his hips nestled between your thighs and his arm moving to support his weight, elbow braced on the armrest above your head, and his other hand cradling your face.

His thumb strokes along the soft skin of your cheek, his hips pushed against yours and his tongue brushing along yours, but his movements stutter when your thighs wrap around his waist, arms around his neck and bringing him down to deepen the kiss.

Dick swears he sees heaven when your fingers card through his hair in that way.

Starting right at the nape of his neck, before dragging those manicured nails, up up up, before they disappear beneath silky raven strands and he sighs into the kiss, before pulling away.

Dilated pupils, and heavy breaths are exchanged between the two of you, and Dick swallows hard.

"Is he a heavy sleeper?" Dick whispers softly, gaze darting towards the bedroom he saw Riot disappear into and you nod your head.

"He is but you're pretty loud." You tease softly and Dick pushes his hips into yours, his bulge prominent beneath his suit and you can feel the way his tip brushes against your clit, even through the layers of fabric between you.

Dick always could find it in record time.

"Fair point." Dick whispers softly, a breathy laugh slipping past his lips, just a bit reddened from the intense kiss and he speaks again.

"But you never were loud."

Two digits bully their way into your cunt, your shorts and panties tugged to the side and Dick's lips are pressed against yours, muffling any sound you could even think of letting escape from your lips.

His tongue is buried in your mouth, thumb rubbing sloppy circles against your throbbing clit and your nails dig into Dick's biceps when he prods at a particularly sensitive spot. Your lashes flutter, and you take a shaky breath when Dick's fingers curl, his glove abandoned on the surface of the coffee table, and Dick pulls away from you, a thin, glossy string of saliva between the two of you before it ultimately breaks.

Landing across your chin and he giggles.

The man fucking giggles, as he uses his free hand to wipe away the mess, before ultimately moving your hair out of your face, staring down at you with pretty, big eyes that look at you so adoringly.

"You're so pretty." Dick murmurs softly, pressing a peck to your lips as he stares at you.

And fuck, you are.

Pretty eyes fanned by long lashes, perfect eyebrows and rosy cheeks, wet and parted lips (both pairs), and a few strands of hair clings to the thin sweat on your forehead and Dick sighs softly.

You're perfectly spread out too.

Hands gripping at him like you're scared he'll disappear, thighs spread messily and your panties and shorts tugged aside. Gummy walls thrum around his digits, pulsing at the intrusion and all he does is he continues to tease your clit, the rough pad of his thumb circling the sensitive and swollen nub as he continues to look at you with those heart eyes.

"Can I take you out tomorrow?" Dick's question is unexpected but he can't lie and say he hasn't been thinking about it since he saw you.

Plush, squishy, and so soft.

And he'd do anything to see you pregnant.

To watch you move around in oversized shirts, a belly swollen and heavy breasts that he could tease because they're just so sensitive and pretty.

And God, he can't even imagine the way your perfect, plump pussy would look, nestled between even rounder thighs, clit completely hidden until he uses his thumbs to spread the lips.

Dick swallows.

Hard.

And he doesn't even notice that his fingers begin to move, curling and prodding, nudging at that little fleshy spot that has your toes curling in your mismatched socks and your nails dig into his forearms.

And Dick remembers just what a sight you are when you come.

Brows pinching into the cutest little frown, lips forming a little 'o' and that gasp that leaves you has him leaking in his suit and he's so glad it's dark.

"That's it, princess, come on my fingers." Dick coos softly. "Use my fingers to make your pretty pussy feel good."

Your eyes roll back, you hide your face in your shoulder and your body freezes, the only movement being the rhythmic spasm of your cunt around his fingers.

His stupidly long, incessant fingers that keep dragging out your orgasm even as you nod your head, a silent answer to his prior question.

And Dick gleams, dimples in his cheeks and brilliant blue eyes lighting up in a way that can only be described as cosmic.

Blue eyes flecked with silvery stars and the gleam of the moon, dilated pupils and pretty lashes and Dick nods.

"Okay." He breathes out. "We're gonna go to the museum, okay? He's a little artist so I think he'd like looking at the paintings?"

You nod meekly, chest still heaving even when you watch as Dick licks his fingers, cleaning them up like he's just licking syrup from his fingers. His long tongue swivels around his digits before he carefully tugs up the fabric of your T-shirt, exposing your torso to the cold air.

Perfect tits, dotted with pebbled nipples and Dick swallows.

He never thought he'd be someone to have a kid out of wedlock but fuck, is he happy to be your baby daddy.

"Come on, princess." Dick hums sweetly. "Let me worship those pretty fucking tits before I leave."

Dick leans down, breath fanning across your chest before his tongue drags along one of your sensitive nipples, and he watches the way your face screws up, biting your bottom lip to stifle any sounds.

And you look at Dick from beneath your lashes, bleary eyes and rosy lips and he groans low.

A rumble in his chest that has your needy pussy pushing out a trickle of slick.

"Keep looking at me like that and I'll get you pregnant again." His lips latch onto the sensitive nub, his free hand moving to palm your other breast, thumb brushing over your nipple.

"Fuck that, I'll get you pregnant anyway."

Taglist:

@allycat4458 🪻

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@fayethefaerie 🦋

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@custardpuddingprincess ⭐

[anarchythorn]

wait wait wait youre on to something actually. wait. oh my god. deadass this just gave me the most peak revelation about the movie. Afton's treatment of the children is almost DEFINITELY going to be showed or implied to be a reflection of his treatment of Vanessa isn't it. oh my god.

like... he treats them like an abusive father. he KNOWS he has control over them, it seems like he feels ENTITLED to it if anything. "I MADE YOU!" in that moment probably carries the same meaning as a shitty parent saying "I brought you into this world, I can take you out of it!" to scare their kid. he controls them and he controls Vanessa in almost the same ways, it's all but directly stated that he veiws/treats both of them like tools that he has some kind of entitlement to.

"You had ONE job!"

to Vanessa, acting almost like her ability to be his little helper is all she's good for in his eyes (and he certainly has no qualms about getting rid of her once she isn't his obedient helpful accessory anymore!!)

"Wake up, children! I have something for you to play with!"

to the animatronics, some of which had just been fucking tased, and yet he not only fully expects them to obey his order, but he phrases it like they should be thankful to do so in the same way a kid would be grateful for a new toy.

Spot the difference in the intentions behind these lines btw:

"Look at you. Look at the NASTY things you have become! Look how small you are! How worthless you are! You are wretched, rotten little beasts! I MADE YOU!"

"A little old for temper tantrums, aren't we, Vanessa?"

he's literally just more direct about it in the first one but both are literally intended to do the same exact same thing: to make the receiving party feel small. to paint the receiving party as unreasonable/incapable of "reasonable" behavior.

he belittles them and he belittles Vanessa when he doesn't get what he wants. he killed the kids with no remorse, he for all intents and purposes ATTEMPTS to kill his own kid just the same. for all intents and purposes, Vanessa is little more than a tool in his eyes, and the kids are just the same.

...I wonder if Vanessa ever watched her father talk to the animatronics and remembered all the times that he talked to her like that. I wonder if her childhood was robbed from her the same as the spirits' childhoods were, the only difference being that she got to live into adulthood instead of simply being cut short.

FNAF MOVIE SPOILERS

I guarantee y'all that the way Afton spoke to the animatronics in his big "I made you!" speech is exactly how he spoke to Vanessa growing up.

[steddieas-shegoes]

because it's yours

for @steddielovemonth using the quote prompt: "If there is love, smallpox scars are as pretty as dimples. I'd love your face no matter what it looks like. Because it's yours." - Stephen King

rated t | 1250 words | no cw | tags: post-vecna, eddie munson lives, pre-relationship, injury recovery, first kiss, getting together

▪️◾▪️◾▪️◾▪️◾▪️◾▪️◾▪️◾▪️

Eddie’s not allowed visitors in the hospital, at least according to Wayne and Hopper. It’s for his own safety, they say.

Steve knows that’s partially bullshit. He’s good at sensing bullshit. But he plays along anyway, convinces the kids to just visit Max and they’ll plan a welcome home party for Eddie when he’s released. It gets harder by the day, especially when all the news they hear is that Eddie is healing well and should be good to go home even sooner than they thought.

No one tells them when he’s released.

Steve only finds out because he walks by the room Eddie’s been in, and instead of the door being closed, it’s wide open. There’s unfamiliar voices coming from the room. It could be doctors or nurses, but something makes him pause and peek in the doorway.

It’s an older woman and what appears to be her adult children, all of them having a very serious conversation about how she needs to be more careful while gardening.

Steve leaves before he’s caught eavesdropping.

He considers stopping by Dustin’s, see if he’s heard the news. Maybe the kids found out first.

Who is Steve to Eddie really?

Just because they gave each other looks and flirted a little and Steve carried him out of the Upside Down and-

He swallows the hurt and decides to go straight to Wayne’s new trailer. It’s just outside of town, easy to get to even with the damage done by the cracks. He’s been there a few times to check on him, even helped him set up his cable.

When Wayne opens the door, Steve knows something is off.

He doesn’t invite him in. Instead, he steps onto the porch and closes the door behind him. He gives Steve an awkward smile instead of his usual warm, comforting one.

“Is he home?” Steve asks.

“He’s sleeping,” Wayne allows. “He’s still recovering.”

“Do the kids know he’s home?”

“Son, he-“

“Why is he hiding? Everyone’s worried and just wants to make sure he’s okay. No one would keep him from resting!” Steve hates that his voice pitches higher. His hands are shaking. He’s never spoken to an adult he respects like this. “We just wanna know he’s safe.”

“He is.” Wayne sighs. “I told that boy no one was gonna stay away for long. He insisted everyone would forget him. I said no. He didn’t listen.”

Steve’s eyes dart over to the window he knows goes to Eddie’s bedroom. He’d been the one to help set it up when Wayne moved in.

“Can I please see him? I’ll be quick. I won’t even tell the kids yet. I just need to see,” Steve begs. “Please, Wayne.”

Wayne wordlessly opens the door and gestures for Steve to come inside.

He leads him to Eddie’s room, reminding him with a look to be quiet and not wake him up. Steve gives an understanding nod and walks into the room.

There’s sunlight sneaking through the blackout curtains, just enough to light up the bed that Eddie’s already wide awake in. Steve can’t help the smile blooming on his face.

Eddie looks scared, though.

His eyes are wide, and he’s pulled himself to the farthest corner of the queen sized bed. His hair’s a mess, proof that he probably was asleep just before Steve got here.

“Hey, Eddie,” Steve waves. He doesn’t come any closer to the bed. “I just wanted to get eyes on you. Feeling alright?”

Wayne’s standing in the doorway behind Steve, probably trying to determine if he needs to step in or ride this out. If Eddie asks, Steve will leave. He doesn’t want him to be uncomfortable.

“What’re you doing here?” Eddie asks.

Steve watches the way his jaw moves around the words, how his mouth twists differently, like it’s taking more effort to talk. The scar going across his cheek, up into his temple, and down to his neck seems to be the cause of it. It’s still an angry red, stitches visible in some places where the bites must’ve been deeper.

He walks forward slowly. Eddie doesn’t stop him. Neither does Wayne.

The scar is big. It’ll always be big, though Steve has plenty of experience with scars and knows it’ll fade into a paler pink than it currently is. It’ll be a reminder, every day, of how he almost died. Eddie will have this memory every time he looks in the mirror, every time his own fingers brush against the ridged skin.

Steve cups the side of Eddie’s face that’s scarless.

Eddie gulps.

“Is this why you didn’t want anyone to visit?” He whispers.

Eddie doesn’t answer, but his eyes closing and head tilting down is answer enough.

“Eddie, look at me.”

Eddie opens his eyes.

“Do you really think a scar could scare any of us away? After how we found you, a scar is the least of our worries. You don’t have to hide from us.”

Steve’s not sure if Wayne’s still standing in the doorway, too focused on the way Eddie’s holding his gaze now. He’s lost weight and he’s still pale, but he’s alive. He’s still beautiful.

Maybe even more now.

“You’re alive. Everyone just wants you alive.”

“I’m gonna look even weirder now,” Eddie rasps out. Steve wonders if there’s damage to his throat, something his voice may never recover from entirely.

“I dunno. I think it’s pretty badass. Since when do you care about looking weird, anyway?” Steve smirks. “The Eddie Munson I know would find a new ridiculous story to tell every time he’s asked about something this cool.”

“I was leaning towards making people believe I got in a fight with a dragon,” Eddie shrugs one shoulder. His cheeks are red, warm underneath Steve’s touch.

“And won.”

Eddie leans his head forward, resting his forehead against Steve’s. “Of course I won. A knight in shining armor saved me.”

“You saved everyone else first. Don’t forget that part of the story,” Steve reminds him.

“A hero’s brave sacrifice…” Eddie mumbles. Steve chuckles. “Maybe true love’s kiss?”

“Isn’t that supposed to break a curse?” Steve whispers, suddenly nervous about all the times they flirted before. Flirting is harmless until it’s not.

“You’re right. In this case, it’s the curse of never kissing a nice guy.”

“And you think I can break that curse?”

“Can’t hurt to try.”

It’s a little awkward at first, mostly because parts of Eddie’s jaw are still numb from nerve damage and moving in certain ways is difficult. But once Steve adjusts, and they both giggle against each others’ lips, it’s easy. They fit.

Eddie tries to deepen the kiss, but he is still healing, and he has to pull away when his stitches tug painfully.

“Your battle scars won’t matter to any of us. They damn sure don’t make you less beautiful to me. Everyone misses you,” Steve rubs his arm, the one with no visible bandages. “Can I at least bring Dustin over later? Let him see that you’re actually alive and the hospital and government haven’t been lying?”

“Is that what everyone thinks?”

“You have to remember we’ve been through this a lot. Hopper was dead until he wasn’t. Anything can be faked.”

“That’s reassuring,” Eddie groans. “Yeah. Bring everyone by tomorrow. I’ll even shower.”

Steve kisses the top of his head. “Do you need help?”

“With showering? I just might, big boy.”

The way Eddie smiles is different now, but Steve loves it all the same.

[hjvi]

𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝑼𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅

Pairing: Bsf!Chris Sturniolo x Fem!Reader

Summary: After burying your feelings for Chris for years, you're caught off guard when jealousy resurfaces, watching him with another girl. requested

Word Count: 2k

You’ve known Chris for as long as you can remember. His laugh is unmistakable—the kind that echoes, rich and deep, bouncing off walls and filling every corner of the room with warmth. He’s always been loud, full of life, and incredibly magnetic, effortlessly drawing people in with his charm. But for you, it was always more than that.

You knew him long before you started feeling this way—long before his tousled brown hair, with the hints of sun-kissed highlights, started looking a little too perfect in the way it fell over his forehead. Before his blue eyes started making your stomach twist in a way you could no longer ignore. Before you started noticing the little things, like the warmth of his hand when it brushed against yours, the way he’d throw his arm around your shoulders during movie nights with the group, the way he’d pause mid-sentence, just to smile at you like he couldn’t help himself.

For so long, you’d been his best friend—the quiet one, the one who had always been there for him, laughing at his jokes, listening to his stories, offering support. But recently, it started to feel different. You started noticing things—small things—that never bothered you before. His smile. How it lingered just a little longer when he looked at you, how his eyes would soften when you spoke about something that mattered to you. The way he would rest his hand on your shoulder casually when you were hanging out, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

But you couldn’t admit it—not even to yourself. Because how could you? He was Chris, your best friend. Your partner in crime, the one you could tell everything to, the one who made you laugh when you felt like crying. If you told him how you felt, you were terrified it would ruin everything. You couldn’t lose him, not like that. Not over something as silly as a crush.

Ever since Chris and I were kids, he had the biggest crush on me. His brothers would tease him relentlessly, making exaggerated kissing noises every time he so much as looked at me for too long. Everyone knew. It was an unspoken truth, something that just existed between us, a constant presence I never had to question.

It lasted for years. And I never thought much of it—Chris always asking me dumb questions just to talk to me, always finding excuses to sit beside me, always looking at me like I hung the stars in the sky. It was just Chris being Chris.

Until he stopped.

I don’t know exactly when it happened, but one day I realized he didn’t ask me those corny things anymore. He didn’t try to sit closer. He didn’t stare at me like I was his entire world. And I should’ve been relieved, should’ve been grateful that the teasing from his brothers had finally died down.

But I wasn’t.

I missed his attention. I missed knowing I was the center of his focus..

I remember the first time we formally talked about our crushes. It was in middle school, sprawled out on his bedroom floor, tossing a stress ball back and forth.

"I kinda like Sophia," he had admitted, his voice casual, like he wasn’t saying something that made my stomach twist.

Sophia. The blonde that every guy liked. The one with the kind of effortless beauty that made people gravitate toward her. Of course, he liked her.

I had forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah? She’s cool."

Chris studied me for a second before tossing the ball again. "Who do you like?"

I froze. My heart stuttered, my mind scrambling for a name that wasn’t his.

Because for the first time, I realized—I liked Chris.

And it terrified me.

"I don’t know," I lied, shrugging. "Haven’t really thought about it."

He smirked. "Liar."

I laughed it off, quickly changing the subject, but the truth sat heavy in my chest.

The weight of unspoken words had never felt heavier than it did now. For as long as I could remember, Chris had been my person. My best friend. The one I could always count on to make me laugh when the world felt unbearable. The one whose presence alone made everything feel lighter. But somewhere along the way, things had shifted. My laughter lingered a little too long when he cracked a joke. My heart raced a little too fast when his hand brushed against mine. My eyes searched for him in every crowded room, drawn to him in a way I knew wasn’t just friendly.

I had fallen in love with him.

And I never told him.

I buried those feelings so deep inside me, convinced that if I ignored them long enough, they would disappear. Because why would someone like Chris ever look at me that way? He deserved someone beautiful, effortless—someone who didn’t trip over their own words when he smiled at them. And if I ever told him, it would ruin everything. So I stayed quiet. I convinced myself that being his best friend was enough.

But then, Leah came into the picture.

At first, it was just a passing thought. You knew about her, of course. She was friends with the group, always hanging out with them, just like you. But over the past couple of weeks, things had changed. You’d noticed the way Chris started talking about her more—how he’d smile a little brighter when her name came up, how he’d mention things they’d done together, and how his eyes would light up when he talked about her, in a way that he’d never looked at you.

It was a gradual shift, but one you couldn’t ignore.

It started small at first. The way he talked about her. A girl whose name I had never needed to remember before, but suddenly, it was everywhere. Her laugh, her texts lighting up his phone, the way his eyes sparkled when he mentioned her. And then I saw it—the way he looked at her, and it shattered me.

I had spent so long pretending that I was okay just being his friend, but now, I couldn’t pretend anymore. Every time he smiled at her, it felt like a knife to the heart. Every time I saw her name flash on his screen, I wanted to disappear. Because it wasn’t me. It would never be me. And the thought of that—of watching him fall in love with someone who wasn’t me—was unbearable.

So I started pulling away.

At first, Chris didn’t notice. He’d text me, and I’d reply hours later, blaming school or sleep. When he called, I let it ring until it stopped, my fingers hovering over the answer button, aching to hear his voice but knowing it would only hurt. I started making excuses, avoiding plans, choosing solitude over his company.

But Chris wasn’t stupid.

It was a Thursday when everything came to a head. The weather was unusually warm for an early spring evening, the sunlight streaming through the window in Chris’s room as you sat next to him, legs stretched out on the floor. Chris had his headphones on, scrolling through his phone while you were lost in thought. The space between you both felt wider than ever, like something had shifted and you couldn’t put it back.

He was talking, his voice full of energy, but you weren’t really listening. You were too focused on the way his laugh sounded when he mentioned Leah’s name—how much joy seemed to be wrapped in that one syllable.

“Yeah, Leah and I were talking about going to that concert next month,” Chris said, not even noticing the way your heart dropped at the mention of her.

You forced a smile, trying to keep the sadness from showing. “That sounds fun,” you said, trying to keep your voice light. You bit your lip, fighting the tears that were threatening to spill over. It was becoming harder and harder to control them.

Chris pulled his headphones off and turned to you, his eyes narrowing in concern. “You sure you’re alright?” he asked, his voice softening. He reached out to touch your arm, and his touch made your heart race for all the wrong reasons.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, your throat tight. You didn’t know how to explain it to him—not without feeling like a fool. How could you tell him that you were in love with him, that every moment with him was a reminder of what you could never have?

This was just the beginning of the interrogations

“Okay, what the hell is going on with you?” he asked one evening, barging into my room without warning, his blue eyes sharp with concern.

I sat frozen on my bed, my laptop open in front of me, though I hadn’t typed a single word in the past hour. My heart slammed against my ribs. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb, dude. You’ve been weird. Distant. You barely talk to me anymore.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Did I do something?”

Yes, I wanted to scream. You fell for someone else. And you didn’t even notice it was breaking me.

But instead, I shook my head. “I’m just busy, Chris.”

“Bullshit,” he shot back immediately, crossing his arms. “You’re avoiding me.”

I swallowed hard, looking anywhere but at him. “I’m not.”

He sighed, stepping closer, his voice softer this time. “Then why won’t you look at me?”

Tears burned at the back of my eyes. I clenched my fists, willing myself to keep it together, but it was useless. The pain, the jealousy, the heartbreak—it was all bubbling to the surface too fast for me to stop it.

“Chris,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Please just drop it.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I won’t. Because you’re hurting, and I don’t know why.” He hesitated, searching my face. “Is it something I did?”

The lump in my throat grew, and before I could stop myself, a single tear slipped down my cheek. “You didn’t do anything.”

Chris’s face fell, his expression crumbling as he reached for me instinctively. “Then why are you crying?”

He leaned in closer, his warm blue eyes locking with yours, and you could feel the weight of his gaze. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

He froze, and you felt his hand gently tug at your chin, pulling your face back toward him. His eyes were wide with concern, his usual teasing expression replaced by one of deep, genuine worry.

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, everything felt too heavy. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, and the vulnerability you’d been hiding for so long threatened to break free. You looked at him, his face so close to yours, his genuine concern written all over his features, and it hit you like a wave.

And just like that, the dam broke.

I sucked in a shaky breath, my entire body trembling. “Because I can’t do this anymore,” I admitted, my voice cracking. “I can’t keep pretending like it doesn’t kill me to see you with her. I can’t keep acting like I don’t care when you talk about her, when you smile at her, when you—” I broke off, covering my face with my hands. “God, I’m so stupid.”

Chris stood frozen, his breath catching. “Wait,” he said slowly. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

I let out a bitter laugh, wiping at my tears. “I’m saying I love you, Chris. I have for a long time. And I never told you because I was terrified of ruining this—ruining us. But now, it doesn’t even matter, does it?” My voice cracked on the last words, my heart breaking all over again. “Because you’ve already found someone else.”

Chris’s expression shifted, his brows furrowing deeply. “Wait—what?” His voice cracked slightly, the shock evident on his face. He pulled you closer, his hands gently cradling your face. “You... you’re in love with me?”

The words felt like a breath of fresh air—like a confession you had kept locked away in the deepest part of your heart. But even as you said it, you weren’t sure what would happen next. Would he push you away? Would he laugh? Or would he... understand?

Silence.

My chest heaved, the room spinning around me. I didn’t know what I expected—maybe for him to let me down gently, to tell me he was flattered but his heart was elsewhere. Maybe even for him to walk away. But I didn’t expect what happened next.

Chris stepped forward, closing the distance between us. His hands cupped my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. His thumbs brushed away my tears, his touch so unbearably gentle it made my breath hitch.

“I—I’m sorry,” you stammered, wiping at your eyes, trying to suppress the tears. “I never wanted to say it. I didn’t want to ruin things between us.”

Chris was silent for a moment, his brow furrowing as he stood up slowly. He walked over to you and gently took your phone from your hand, placing it on the coffee table. His touch was light, his hand brushing against your fingers in a way that sent warmth rushing through you.

“Hey,” he said softly, kneeling in front of you so you were eye-level. “You don’t have to apologize for your feelings. It’s okay to feel what you feel.”

But you couldn’t stop the tears. They came in waves now, the floodgates opening. “I just thought… I thought I was fine,” you whispered through the sobs. “I thought I could handle it. But seeing you with her, seeing you get so close to her, it just—it hurts so much. I… I don’t know how to be around you anymore.”

Chris’s expression shifted from concern to something deeper—something you couldn’t quite place. He gently cupped your face in his hands, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. His eyes were intense, a mix of confusion and something else—something you couldn’t decipher.

“You’re an idiot,” he whispered, shaking his head.

“You think I don’t feel it too?” he murmured, his voice rough. He gently pulled you into his arms, holding you close, his warmth enveloping you. “I’ve been trying to figure this out, too, you know.”

I opened my mouth to protest, to explain how I had felt so invisible, so forgotten. But his next words stopped me.

“I’ve been in love with you for so long, I’m pretty sure it’s written all over my face,” he said, his voice raw, unguarded. “But I never said anything because I thought you didn’t feel the same way. I didn’t want to mess everything up. But the truth is... I can’t stand seeing you hurt. I can’t stand the idea of losing you. I need you, and I always have.” Chris’s hands gently ran up and down your back, the touch comforting yet charged with emotion.

My breath caught in my throat, my heart hammering against my chest as his words sank in. I blinked rapidly, trying to process them, to keep my composure, but it was like everything inside me finally cracked open. All the years of pretending, of burying my feelings beneath layers of friendship and doubt, had been in vain. Chris—Chris felt the same way.

“You... love me?” I whispered, still not quite believing it, my voice trembling as I searched his face for any sign of doubt. But there was none. His gaze was steady, unwavering.

“I love you,” he said, more firmly this time. “Always have. Always will.”

The realization hit you then, like a weight lifting from your chest. He had been feeling the same way all along, hiding his feelings just as much as you had.

Without thinking, you pulled back slightly, looking up into his eyes, and that was when everything seemed to come together. The pain, the confusion, the years of silence... it all fell away. The only thing that mattered now was the connection between you two.

“Chris... I’m scared,” you whispered, your hands shaking slightly as you cupped his face.

He smiled softly, that familiar, reassuring grin that made your heart race. “I know,” he murmured, brushing your hair out of your face. “But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

My chest swelled with something I couldn’t quite name—relief, hope, joy—until it all broke free in a rush of emotion. Without thinking, I stepped forward, closing the distance between us. My hands found his chest, pressing against the solid warmth of him, and before I could stop myself, I was kissing him—softly, tentatively at first, as though testing the waters after a lifetime of waiting.

The moment our lips met, everything else faded into the background. At first, it was slow—tentative. His lips were soft against mine, his breath warm and steady. I could feel the tension in his body, like he was testing the waters, unsure if this was real. And then, just like that, it deepened. Chris’s hand slid to my waist, pulling me in closer, until there was no space left between us. His touch was gentle but firm, like he needed me, like he was afraid to let go. His lips moved against mine with a tenderness that made my heart flutter, each kiss a promise, each one a reassurance that this moment was more than just a fleeting desire.

I melted into him, my fingers finding their way to his chest, lightly gripping the fabric of his shirt. His heart was racing beneath my touch, mirroring mine. The kiss grew more urgent, but there was still a sweetness to it, a softness that made everything feel like it was happening in slow motion, like we had all the time in the world. His lips were warm and sure, coaxing mine to respond, to give in, and I did, losing myself in the sensation of him, in the feeling of finally being close to the one person I had secretly longed for.

But eventually, I had to pull away, gasping for air. The intensity of the kiss left me breathless, my body trembling from the closeness of it. I couldn’t think, couldn’t process anything beyond the overwhelming feeling of his lips on mine, of the warmth of his touch.

I pulled back just enough to catch my breath, my chest heaving as I looked up at him. His eyes were still closed, as if he were trying to hold onto the moment just a little longer. But when he opened them, he locked his gaze with mine, and in that moment, I saw something in his eyes I hadn’t expected—something so tender, so vulnerable.

He reached for me almost immediately, his hands gentle as he cupped my face, pulling me back toward him. His lips found mine again, but this time, it was softer—gentler. He kissed me with a tenderness that spoke volumes, as if he needed me as much as I needed him, and as if he had been waiting for this moment just as long as I had. His touch was no longer desperate, but filled with a quiet longing, a reassurance that we were in this together, that we had both found something we couldn’t bear to let go of.

His breath mingled with mine, warm and slow, as his forehead rested gently against mine. His hands moved to my back, holding me close, as if he never wanted to let me go. I could feel the warmth of his chest against mine, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my fingertips, and it was like everything in the world had finally fallen into place.

“I’ve been wanting this for so long,” Chris whispered, his voice soft, almost a little shaky. “You’re everything to me, you know that?”

I nodded, my heart swelling with emotions I couldn’t quite put into words. The love in his voice, the way he held me like I was fragile, like I was something precious—it was everything I’d ever wanted. He gently brushed a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering against my skin for a moment longer than necessary, as if he was memorizing the feel of me, like he never wanted to forget this moment.

“Don’t pull away,” he whispered again, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes searched mine, the intensity in them soft but unwavering. “I need you here. With me. Always.”

I looked into his eyes, feeling the sincerity in his words, the depth of his feelings for me. His hands were still on my waist, holding me close but with a softness that made me feel safe, cherished.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered back, my voice a little shaky as I cupped his cheek, running my thumb across the stubble that had started to form there. “I’m right here.”

And with that, he kissed me again, slowly this time—more like a promise than a question. His lips were gentle against mine, like he was savoring the moment, making sure we were both fully present in it. There was no rush, no urgency, just the quiet certainty that we were exactly where we were meant to be. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me even closer, and I let myself get lost in him, in the feeling of finally being with the person I had loved for so long.

When we finally pulled away again, I could see the faintest smile tugging at his lips, and I knew that whatever came next, we would face it together. His hands gently cradled my face, and I could feel the tenderness in every touch, every look. He wasn’t just kissing me; he was showing me that he needed me, that he loved me, in a way that words couldn’t fully express.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I'm sorry if this feels a bit rushed – it's because, well, it kind of is. This was a requested piece, and I apologize it's not a full-length fic, but I really hope you still enjoy it! Things have been pretty busy on my end, but I'm hoping to dive into future requests with more plot and depth. Thanks again for your patience and support!

tags - @swagalicious260 @watercolorskyy @coquettechris @lovesturni0l0s @christmastreecake @ellbowmacaroni @blog-luvdance @sophand4n4 @meg4-matt44 @mommymomm @chriss-slutt @humpster35 @courta13 @idkwhatthisis2009 @yourfavoritefangirl @slutformatt17 @watercolorskyy @mylifeisevenstranger @suyqa @junnniiieee07 @thecrawlys

╰┈➤𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚, 𝒉𝒊𝒗𝒊

[innorris]

Against All Odds- L.N

Summary: Being Oscar Piastri’s sister came with its perks—like paddock passes and front-row seats to every race. But it also meant dealing with him. Lando Norris. Her brother’s teammate and the one person who could drive her up the wall with just a look. But when the two are forced to spend more time together off the track, she realizes there’s more to Lando than just his smug grin and sarcastic comments.

She leaned against the garage wall, scrolling through her phone while the McLaren team buzzed around. It was another race weekend, and as usual, she was here to support her brother, Oscar. But no amount of excitement could prepare her for him striding over, that signature grin plastered across his face.

“Lost again, Piastri?” Lando’s voice was light, teasing, but it made her roll her eyes immediately.

“Just avoiding unnecessary conversations,” she shot back, not even bothering to look up.

Lando chuckled, clearly unfazed. “You’ve got jokes. Guess it runs in the family.”

She finally glanced up, meeting his bright blue eyes. Annoyingly bright, like he knew exactly how to get under her skin. And he did. Ever since Oscar joined McLaren, Lando had made it his mission to tease her every chance he got—whether it was about her coffee order, her terrible parking skills, or the fact that she always seemed to be in his way.

But things took a turn when McLaren organized a charity event, and she was roped in to help coordinate. And, of course, he was her partner for the day.

“This is going to be fun,” Lando said with a wink, as they loaded supplies into a van.

She scoffed. “Define fun.”

“Spending the day with me, obviously.”

Despite her annoyance, she couldn’t ignore how easy it was to fall into a rhythm with him. Between organizing activities and dealing with a group of overexcited kids, she saw a different side of Lando. He wasn’t just the cocky driver who loved to push her buttons—he was kind, patient, and had a way of making everyone around him laugh, even her.

By the end of the day, they were both exhausted, sitting on the grass, watching the sunset over the track.

“You’re not as terrible as I thought,” she admitted, surprising even herself.

Lando turned to her, his grin softer this time. “You’re not too bad yourself, Piastri.”

There was a pause—a charged moment where neither of them looked away. And before she could second-guess it, Lando leaned in, his lips brushing against hers, tentative at first, then deeper, as if all their arguments had been leading to this.

When they finally pulled apart, she whispered, breathless, “Oscar’s going to kill you.”

Lando chuckled, his forehead resting against hers. “Worth it.”

[archangeldyke-all]

Angel… hear me out…

butch babies already has 4 drabbles, just one more to get an emoji and be officially a series soooo… what do we (you) think about writing about one of them being jealous maybe bc of insecurities (like idk someone was flirting with sev and reader started feeling insecure bc she is like complete opposite of this other girl), OR maybe they got on a stupid argument and they both are so dumb and stubborn that they don’t know how to solve shit (they are teenagers after all) so they try and make a move to solve everything like organizing something in their hideout but they end up planing the exact same thing JSMDMDKD. OR how would be their first time together (i kinda picture sev waiting for an adequate moment and trying to make it really special for reader, maybe as a birthday gift, or celebrating like an anniversary of that first fight when they meet).

I’m just obsessed with them atm 😭😭😭

this whole series is healing my inner teenager ugh asd;lfjas;ldkj

men and minors dni

you're having a shitty night.

you and sevika snuck up to piltover to sneak into some university frat party-- looking to sell the shitty cave-weed you've been growing in your hideout to rich college kids who don't know any better. at first, it was fun. you made good money, drank expensive liquor, and danced to piltie music.

but now, you're a little drunk, you've got a headache from the altitude, and sevika's pissing you off. she's got her signature cocky smirk-- the one usually directed at you-- pointed at some pretty, proper, pilite girl.

sevika says she's yours. she says you're her favorite girl in the world. but... sometimes you worry.

you know you're different from most girls your age. you've never been interested in typical girly things. wearing dresses makes something nervous start to crawl around in your stomach, and you prefer to keep your hair short and out of the way, not bothering with ribbons or clips or bows. even in zaun; where piltover pinks and frills are traded out for flashy piercings and bold makeup-- femininity just doesn't suit you, no matter what form it takes.

you huff as your girlfriend leans closer to the piltie girl, snatching the closest bottle of good liquor and storming out of the frat house.

you make it halfway down the block before sevika comes running after you.

"hey! don't you hear me callin' your fuckin' name?" you roll your eyes and keep walking. you can hear her scramble after you, before she reaches out and tugs your arm. "what's your fucking problem?"

"what's your fucking problem!?" you ask.

sevika gawks at you. "i-i dunno?" she asks. "i thought we were having a fun time!"

"you sure seemed to be having fun." you huff.

"well, yeah! babe, look!" sevika reaches in her pockets and starts pulling out silverware and watches. you snort and roll your eyes, and resist the temptation to show your best friend your own stolen goods from the evening.

"sev... do you ever think..."

"what?" she asks, still confused.

you sigh. "sometimes i feel like you should be with someone so prettier than me."

"what?!" sevika shouts. "y-you're the prettiest girl in the entire universe--"

"yeah, but i'm not, like..." you flail a bit, looking for the words.

sevika frowns at you. "you're not what?"

"you know sevika. you've known me since i was a kid. you're the same way, sorta." you say.

"so you don't think i'm pretty?" sevika asks.

you gasp and reach out for her with your free hand. "no!" you shout. "sevika-- you're so pretty, your face is all i ever think abo--"

"then why are you being weird?!" sevika shouts.

"because you were flirting with that girl!"

sevika freezes, then she bursts into laughter. "babe!" she cackles.

you huff and pull away from her, taking a sip off the bottle you'd stolen.

"i don't get what's funny."

"i was scamming her!" sevika cackles. you blink.

"what?" you ask.

sevika shrugs. "people up here are rich. and stupid. she was telling me all about how she snuck out of her sorority house-- how everyone who lives there is at a party tonight--"

"we cannot rob a sorority house!" you cut your girlfriend off. sevika deflates.

"but babe!" she whines.

you can't help but giggle with relief and exasperation. sevika must be even drunker than you-- she only gets this mischievous when she's drunk.

"absolutely not. c'mon, i took this bottle, we can go to our hideout and have our own party."

"but i only got like three sets of silverware!"

"look." you giggle, pushing the bottle into sevika's hands and reaching into your sports bra. underneath your shirt, flannel, and jacket, nobody could see the increasingly lumpy silhouette of all the shit you managed to sneak out of the frat house. telescopes, fancy lighters, pocket watches, bifocal glasses, and best of all-- two unlimited piltover university cafeteria passes.

"holy shit!" sevika gasps, grinning down at your haul. "you're fucking amazing!" she giggles.

you smile. "i'm sorry i freaked out."

"i'm sorry i didn't tell you my evil plan. guess i oughta tell my partner in crime about my criminal plans, eh?" she teases. you laugh, redistributing your goodies from the evening in your pockets, before grabbing sevika's hand and tugging her toward the university's campus. you're gonna treat your girl to an all expenses paid cafeteria dinner.

"yes, you should. now hide that liquor so we can get into the dining hall." you whisper.

sevika giggles. "these passes are for grad students. we're too young, they're gonna know!"

"we'll tell 'em we're child prodigies."

"us?!" sevika cackles. you snort and stop your trek, pulling sevika in by her waist for a kiss.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3

[creations-of-the-dreamlight]

I was inspired by @theoneandonlysourcandy’s The Doctor headcanons that I wanted to make a few for The Goop of All Time Doey (I’m totally copying you :3). Updated a bit and added some more.

🎩 He gives you the space you need to grow and learn, and they help from the sidelines and watch. He trust you on your own in the factory. They know what you’ve done and they respect how far you’ve come.

🎩 with ^^ being said, you often find them muttering to themselves about how worried they are about you. How much they wish they could keep you by their sides forever and never let you out of their sight

🎩 cold can be a big trigger for them due to The Doctors traps. Smetimes they will wrap a piece of dough around you- either entire body or just the smallest bit. He lies, saying he’s worried it’s too cold for you. But deep down both of you know they need your warmth.

🎩 Doey really enjoys music. When he isn’t doing his job as the guardian of Safe Haven, he likes to sing. You and them sometimes sing duets when you are patrolling together.

🎩 they have learned how to shape themselves perfectly to make the comfiest bed for you when you two are sleeping.

🎩 Doey pretty much has all the love languages except words of affirmation- most nice things are really a trigger to him. Being around you is different. You focus on action over words, and hardly speak. You’re not one of the ‘gentle voices’ to him.

🎩 Doey, as a personality, is a bit seperate from the three original kids. It’s not its own seperate personality, but kind of like a mask they put on that gained legs and can move on its own sometime. When you first met it was just this mask. You’ve gotten to know each one better.

⭐️ Jack is still a child at heart- and all he wants to do is play. When he’s with you he’s normally raring with energy. You either play with the other toys, play a game by yourselves, or read books together. You taught him how to make a chess board and then how to play it. He oftentimes falls asleep curled up around you while you read to him.

🍊 Even when it’s just him, and he has downtime, Matthew always has to be doing something productive. Deep down he feels bad- if anyone should have time to themselves, it’s Kevin and Jake- so he forces himself to ‘bring something to the table’ and be useful when he’s out. Nothing could deter him from this, so instead you just help him. Cleaning up, taking care of toys in medical, scrapping up food, you do it together. Your company means the world to him.

💥Kevin was the most suspicious of you. He held onto his suspicion for a long time. But who could blame him? He was the angry one, he was the one who had to snap on any potential danger. And they learned Everything was a potential danger. The first time you ever saw him on his own he was breaking down. For a moment he tried to fight you. But you’re more resilient than that. You toughed through and eventually got him to sit down. He sobbed in your arms for a long time. He doesn’t like to be out on his own, but when he is it’s normally with you, holding you in some way.

🎩 Jack eyes are more yellow when he’s front, Matthew’s orange, and Kevin’s red. If they are just Doey, their eyes are blank and hollow with no light in them.



Bonus one for my trans/gender fucky gang like me :3

🎩 They use their clay to help you with dysphoria (making different clothes, changing different parts of your body, helping to bind safely)

🎩 they spent months searching the factory for things to make comfortable clothes for you

🎩 Many of the toys only remember you from your time in the factory (pre-transition). Doey is gentle with those who don’t get and need to be explained, and fiercely defends you against anyone trying to be rude on purpose.

🎩 If they continue even after he told them off? Dinner is served, ig.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

@dr-reids-fidget-toy#omg I didn’t know that about comic bucky that’s rlly cool

Starting a new post because I have off-topic Thoughts. Comic!Bucky contains fascinating commentary on the Cold War, WWII, and the media representations thereof. MCU!Bucky is (by necessity) pretty watered down. In the Brubaker comics, Bucky isn't brainwashed, at least not in the classic Marvel sense. He's just this guy who believes in the absolute rightness of his country, and has been in combat to support the U.S. since age ~14... and then he gets blown up by a missile, loses his memory, and Department X tells him "his country" is the USSR. So now he's the Winter Soldier. Nothing else about his personality or his politics changes. The Winter Soldier we see in the Brubaker comics is definitely a villain — he kills indiscriminately, kidnaps civilians to get his way, murders Rick Jones out of petty spite. But his personality is basically the same from childhood.

This is Steve remembering Bucky as a kid during WWII:

Brubaker retcons Bucky's role, from "kid sidekick who rushes in first and gets kidnapped, needing Captain America to rescue him," to "kid agent who infiltrates bases first, so that Captain America can follow him." With the memory loss, Bucky goes from slitting throats and setting off bombs for Uncle Sam, to doing it for Mother Russia. He's always been as cold and as willing to kill witnesses as he is as the Winter Soldier. It just never made the news reals.

And that's the other half of his retconned role: being propaganda for other child soldiers (e.g. Toro) who join up in his wake. This is Bucky and Steve watching a Cap and Bucky recruitment newsreel:

As an adult, the real difference isn't that Bucky is Soviet now; it's that he doesn't have Steve holding his leash anymore. To be clear, comic Winter Soldier also isn't free to come and go as he pleases — he's kept in a freezer between missions, he's probably not paid, he's in Department X — but he also has far more agency within the latitude of his orders. He's not dead-eyed and tortured by guilt like we see in the MCU. He goes on side quests to kill other Buckies. He argues constantly with Aleksander Lukin (the comic equivalent of Pierce). He complains about the inconvenience of not just sniping Steve in the head to steal the Tesseract.

Brubaker's point, throughout the comic, is that we have been lied to about World War II being "noble" or "good" or the story of the U.S. saving the day. And that that lie is used to prop up everything from U2 spy planes built with 100x the budget for education, to the Patriot Act nullifying the Fourth Amendment. Because not only is "WWII was a noble war fought without atrocities" nationalistic bullshit, but "Soviets are fundamentally different from us" is too. Bucky's continuity of character reveals both at once. He's a walking Soviet superweapon. Why? Because he was a walking American superweapon first, starting before he was old enough to shave.

Anyway, I get why the MCU had to change his backstory. You have to a) remind the audience who Bucky is, b) show-don't-tell why Steve is sad Bucky is trying to kill him, c) get across the idea that Bucky doesn't want to kill Steve but feels he has to, d) use Bucky to develop Steve's character, and e) set up a way for Bucky to get un-brainwashed. All within the span of ~30 minutes this movie has for this plot, amidst all the other plots. MCU!Bucky plaintively asking Pierce who Steve was, only to get slapped in the face, is sort of like AniTV!Tom constantly pawing at his ear: it quickly gets across that this character isn't acting under his own volition, in a way that minimizes audience confusion.

Plus: it's a Hollywood movie. It wouldn't get funded if it was too critical of the U.S. military. Movies are always, by definition, more conservative than other media because of their need for funding. And the MCU makes a decent effort to incorporate at least some criticism of the U.S., having Zola be involved in Operation Paperclip and having him (while working for the U.S.) order Howard Stark's murder. But a computer ghost reciting dry facts about the CIA recruiting Nazis doesn't have the same gut punch as watching the "good guys" send the literal child to knife his fellow child soldiers during WWII would have had.

[nugatorysheep]

What your favorite SU character says about you but it's just mean as fuck

Steven — How is being a mentally ill, people-pleasing queer going for you? Did your mommy issues and anxiety resolve themselves yet or are you still avoiding therapy?

You either disliked or were neutral about him until he got a neck. You think Future is peak cinema (correct) and can't understand why everyone else hates it. You have a better grasp on this show's characters and themes than most of the people who watched it.

Connie — You were likely the gifted kid in school but a total burn-out now. You either see a lot of yourself in this character (How are those helicopter parents of yours doing? Have you gone no-contact yet?) or you're a normie and boring to sandbox with. Probably both.

You've got a lot of Feelings™️about her and if people don't agree it causes Problems™️. In case no one has told you yet, stop caring what other people think. Your constant virtue signaling to appeal to other normies is a crutch that's just holding you back. It's okay to have fun!!

Stevonnie — You want to fuck this character, though you'd never say that out loud. You like Steven and Connie; maybe you like one more than the other, but you like both at least a little. If you're using them for shipping you're the only person in the entire fandom doing whatever hyper-specific ship you've latched onto.

Rose and or Pink — You really suck as a person! Or you used to suck but you've gotten a lot better and we stan! If you're the former you almost certainly have terrible takes on this show (but not in the way people might think), sorry, I don’t make the rules. Either way, you gotta stop finding ways to bring her back, dawg. She's gone.

Greg — You're a man (positive) and gay as hell. Gentleman on the streets and a fucking freak in the sheets. We stan. Pop off king <3

Garnet — If you headcanon her as acespec she is not actually your favorite, Ruby and Sapphire are your favorite, but you like them both equally so you just say you like Garnet. If you headcanon her as anything else you're definitely shipping her with one of the other gems, probably Pearl or Jasper.

Amethyst — Super chill person. Would be in most people's dream blunt rotation. You're a live and let live kinda guy and I respect that, but you also have no hills you'd die on so you're not the first person anyone goes to if they need serious support. You can get away with misinterpreting this character (on purpose or accidentally) because it's hard to say things about her that most people won't just shrug at and go "yeah that sounds right I guess"

Pearl — You're annoying as hell. You see yourself in this character and that's not a good thing. Your social media presence gives off the same energy as every white woman's Instagram profile. If being a victim was a contest you'd take home the gold.

You think everyone is out to get you. They're not.

You think you're being persecuted. You're not.

Most people who see you from a distance and don't know better think you're alright, so you're probably pretty well-liked in public. The only people you will get along with in close quarters are all walking mean lesbian stereotypes.

Peridot — You're annoying as hell for a different reason. You see yourself in this character too and that is a terrible, terrible thing.

She's your pfp on every website and app that will allow it. Your lifeblood is this fucking character and e v e r y o n e will know it. You're weirdly possessive of her and the hyper specific headcanons you made for her (even if you don't say that) despite every grass-fearing autistic person on the internet projecting onto her, so ironically you don't like other Peridot fans, which always ends up with you sitting alone even on websites with millions of people on them.

90% chance you're a furry, otherkin, therian or think you have DID. You think you're misunderstood, and in some ways you are, but the reality is most people don't speak dog and don't have the time or energy to learn. You need to go outside and learn to speak cat whether you want to or not

Lapis — You don't like Peridot fans or kinnies, which is weirdly in-character. You're the biggest hater but you don't hide it and I can respect that. You think Lapis is a victim, but you're only half right. You would probably fall for propaganda if it was dressed up fancy enough.

Jasper — You want to fuck this character, full stop. There's a 50/50 chance you're chill af or the most insufferable person on the planet. If you're the former you're friends with a lot of people. You float easily from one group to another, but a jack of all trades is a master of none, and you're no one's first pick if they're looking for someone close. You probably hate Lapis and her fans but you should really just let that shit go ngl

Spinel — You need therapy (derogatory) and you're making that everyone else's problem. Despite the clown aesthetic you're not very funny to be around and you should get a better sense of humor. You project onto this character way too hard and it shows in your fandom habits and headcanons, but most of the time that's fine

Like Spinel, you're a little two-faced. Some people pick up on that right away and some don't. The people who do hold you at arms length until you make it clear which clown you'd rather be. You hate it when people ship Spinel with any character besides your favorite pairing, but you'll never say that out loud unless it's a ship the people you're talking to don't like.

Blue Diamond — You're a man (derogatory) or a minor who doesn't actually understand anything about this character yet, and would immediately fall for any and all forms of propaganda

Yellow Diamond — If you think she is wearing a helmet you're a man (derogatory) and you expected things out of SU that were never gonna happen. If you think it's just hair you have a much better grasp on this character than 90% percent of SU's fandom and I'm platonically kissing you on the mouth.

White Diamond — You're a man (derogatory) or an incredibly based and sexy queer.

The Zircons — You like Ace Attorney, or would like it if you haven't played it yet. You're making them kiss sloppy style. UwU

Lars — You probably didn't like him until after he died. You will defend this boy with your fucking life. Also you should just…. go watch Star Trek if you haven't. Seriously what are you doing—

Sadie — You're an oddball. Very lax though. You have complicated feelings about Shep

Peedee — You're a little quirky, a little freaky, but you're too scared to just say that. You desperately need some fun in your life, but the people around you make that difficult. Eventually you'll find the folks that are worth hanging around. See you on the flip side :)

Ronaldo — You're the type of person this character is based on and you take it in stride. If you're shipping him with Lars, you're the only person who's opinion on this character matters.

Kevin — I dunno who hurt you but you have a terrible taste in men. You only have fun in bed if it involves a damn near human rights violation

Mayor Dewey — You're normalbirb

Any other townie — This is a trick question! No one has these as their favorite lmao

[wolls-angel]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ what took so long? - j. woll ˚₊‧ ୨୧

pairing: j. woll x fem!reader summary: After almost 20 years of pining, it finally happens... request: in desperate need of jo woll childhood best friends to lovers. like i’m talking best friends since birth, and then admit they’re in love with each other at age 26. biggest slow burn ever 😫 word count: 1.6k warning(s):fluff, cheating (not between joe and reader), not much dialogue, longer than normal, not proof read notes: i have a love hate relationship with this fic. joe is so cute in it so i like it more. lmk what you think. i hope you love it !! xoxo

Everyone knows Joseph Woll as a hockey superstar. Young guy with his whole hockey career ahead of him. One of the most promising young goalies in the NHL. It's true. He is all of that. But to you, he's Joey.

You met Joe when you moved into your grandparents house. You were 8. Joe was the son of your grandmother's cleaning lady and she was eager to introduce the two of you. "It's nice when you have someone you know in a new situation," you remember her saying.

It was summer, so Shelley invited you over to her house to meet Joe and her other kids, Michael and Emma. You were sold when she said they had a swimming pool.

A few days later, she picked you up with Joe and Emma in the car and drove you to the Dunkin' near Joe's house. At this point, you and Joe had only exchanged one word. You both ordered the same thing (a lemonade) and your remember looking over at him and smiling. It was the first time you saw his face in full and, even at eight years old, you could tell it would be the end of you.

Your friendship only grew as you went to school together for years, learning all about each other and you just kept falling for him. You went to all his hockey games, helped him with his English homework, gave him advice about girls (even though he never took it). You watched him grow into a gorgeous, 6'4, kind, compassionate and respectful man. The man he is today.

As teenagers, you tried confessing your love so many times but your fear always paralysed you before you told him anything. What if he said no? What if he didn't want you? What if it ruined the friendship you had worked so hard to develop? It wasn't a risk you were willing to take.

All the way through high school, Joe never had a girlfriend. He would have a crush here or there but never pursued it. He always made up an excuse as to why he couldn't take a girl out.

"I'm too busy with hockey" was the usual response when they asked about his love life. Then his family would look at you and smile, as if to say "Well, she's right there".

You never dated either. For a much different reason though. You just kept holding out hope. Always thinking maybe that Valentine's day he would ask you. It never happened. And it wasn't even like you couldn't have went out. People were always asking you. It just wasn't Joe.

Joe took you to prom because neither of you had partners to go with. It was his mom's idea but he wasn't upset about it. You wore a beautiful dark red gown and had your hair in an updo, very stylish at the time. Joe knew you wanted the night to be special so he saved up to rent a limo. You told him he didn't have to but he insisted.

"It's the least I can do. You're going to the prom with me."

Joe also took you to the NHL draft with him in 2016. You remember the look on his face like it was yesterday. It was exactly where he wanted to be. An NHL prospect.

The next few years were hard. You went off to university in New York City while Joe went to train with the Toronto Maple Leafs. You would visit each other as often as you could. You'd go up for reading week. He'd come down for Spring Break. Things like that.

Summer was really the only time you would both spend time in your hometown. You would go boating with Joe, babysit his little sister, go to a party or a bar. It was nice. It felt like in the midst of all this change, there was something normal.

Then, in your third year at NYU, you met Charlie. He was kind, tall handsome and a pre med major. You met him at a cafe near campus, where you were both studying for midterms. He asked you out and you realized it was kinda embarrassing to keep waiting for Joe when he lived so far. He probably had a girlfriend. He just didn't care enough to tell you.

Charlie took you out one Friday after your lecture and swept you off your feet. He was a true gentleman. And you were happy. You called Joe a few days after you and Charlie made it official to tell him the good news.

"Oh... wow, Y/N, that's... amazing. I'm so happy for you," is all he said.

You were too happy to question Joe's sad tone or his hesitation in congratulating you. You were too happy. Your relationship with Charlie only lasted 3 months though.

You had made plans to meet Charlie at his place after your lecture. You had ended early because you had a headache and wanted to just chill before you went out for your 3 month anniversary dinner. Long story short, you caught him cheating. On your anniversary with some girl from his bio class.

You were heartbroken.

But enough about the past. Let's jump to the present.

Joe's NHL debut. You were so excited to get your mind off the break up and the fact that you needed to find a job after graduation. You just wanted to see Joe and support him. Fittingly, the game was against St. Louis and all of Joe's family and friends came to support him.

The game was amazing. Toronto won 3-2 in overtime, but Joe saved 32 shots. You could tell how proud the rest of the team was during the hug line. Joe didn't know you were there to watch him so after the game, you and his mom left to take you home to surprise him.

Once there you hide behind the couch in the living room. Joe walks in and the whole room explodes with applause and congratulations from his friends and family. You can't hold it in any longer and...

Oof.

You run into Joe at full speed, knocking him off balance.

"Wha-... Y/N?", he says, in complete shock. You giggle into his chest, squeezing him tight, "Hey, Joey. Miss me?". The smile on his face when you look up could have blinded you. Almost immediately, he engulfs you in the biggest hug possible. "Fuck yeah, I missed you," he mumbles, his head buried in your neck. After a second or two he lets go and you two enjoy the party as usual. That is, until right after dinner.

"Y/N, can we chat in the other room?"

You feel a hand grab your wrist. It's Joe. You brow furrows in confusion but you nod and he pulls you hastily into his bedroom. He motions for you to sit on the bed while he closes the door.

"I missed you, Y/N. How's school?" he sits down beside you. "Good. I'm so ready to be done," you respond with a smile. "Maybe when you're done, you can move up here. Be near me again". You giggle, "I'd love that, Joey".

"So, no Charlie today?"

You sigh. Right. Charlie. "Uh, no. We broke up a few weeks ago," you look up at Joe and his eyes soften. "Shit, I'm sorry. Are you ok? What happened?". You feel you eyes well with tears. "He cheated on me. With some girl in his class," you sniffle and lean into Joe, "I was finally happy, you know? Not just waiting".

"Waiting?" he asks, "Waiting for what?"

Shit. You have said too much. You look down at your hands, sitting in your lap, "Nothing, don't worry about it".

"Y/N, tell me," he places his hand on your chin to force you to look up at him, "I have known you for almost 20 years. I can tell when something's wrong".

You look into his eyes and realize maybe it's time you were honest with Joe. What's the worst thing that happens? He says no and things stay the same. Maybe.

You get up and stand in front of Joe who is still sitting on the bed. "I have been waiting my whole entire life to say these words, but I'm scared and I have every reason to be. You are my best friend, Joe, and I don't want stuff to be awkward between us. But I may have had too much beer earlier at the game and I'm a little tipsy so fuck it. I have been waiting for you. To ask me out. To care. To love me the way I have loved you since we met when we were 10 years old. And I have never been sure if you wanted me but I talked to my therapist last week and she asked me what I wanted and all I could think of was you. I want you, Joseph Woll. So if this is the end of our friendship, so be it, but I want you to know that I want you to want me, Joe. It's ok if you don't but," you pause and collapse down onto the bed beside him, face in your hands, "I don't know. I'm so sorry".

There is a few beats of silence before Joe speaks.

"Y/N, baby, what took so long?"

You freeze. Huh? What? Excuse me? You look up at Joe, bewildered, and all he does is smile. And then he leans in and before you know, his lips connect with yours. His lips are oddly soft and all you can smell is his cologne. You let yourself melt into him and he feels like home. Where you were always meant to be. Suddenly, Joe whispers into the kiss, "I want you too, Y/N. I really do".

[solargeist]

Can Xelqua use his powers to avoid Grian’s Eyes? I’m imagining Xelqua getting mad at Grian or Grian getting mad at him and so Xelqua runs away for a bit and Grian panics because he can’t use his Eyes to find his kid

Oooooh ! Thats a funny idea, tho i always imagine the Eyes as like... spectator mode..? So Grian would have to already sorta know where Xelqua is to find him with the Eyes. Weird eyes just zooming around the map, x-raying, night vision....

Xelqua doesn't exactly know what hes doing with his Watcher powers, a lot of it comes just from his emotions since he's so young. If he's upset enough, maybe he can block Grian's eyes with his own ? Maybe ? He definitely has more than him.

Typically when Xelqua is upset with Grian, he'll tattle to Mumbo, or any close Hermit, its usually quite childish !

Grian has gotten really good at not getting mad at Xelqua--at least not showing it. This was different in the beginning of course, before he adjusted. Back in season 9 he'd often get annoyed with him and overwhelmed then. Which... I think could be a fun turning point in their dynamic.. Grian and Xelqua getting mad at each other, Grians exhausted and just not in the mood to go play outside or whatever, he snaps and uses the Good Ole "Because I said so !" argument towards Xelqua. Xelqua stomps his little feet and goes off to pout while Grian sighs heavily in a chair, he does feel way over his head, he really has a kid now ? He's practically still one himself ! Sorta, it feels like it sometimes.

Xelqua would gather courage while he's pouting, Grian doesn't ever let him go out, its not fair, he's always busy and rarely funny. Xelqua quietly goes out the door as soon as he hears Grian go to the bathroom or something.

Xelqua is not quick, he has tiny legs, he doesn't make much of a distant, but he's small, so he disappears quickly behind or under things.

Grian's panic is amplified by his Watcher instincts, losing sight of something--of a child--its a suffocating feeling, no matter how he felt moments ago. His little house in s9 is surrounded by water, he hates using Watcher magic, but theres no choice here, little purple eyes shoot out in every direction as his mind imagines the worst possible outcomes. Xelqua immediately catches the feeling of Eyes and its scary ! So against his own will, his own Eyes block Grian's. (Which doesn't help Grian's panic at all) Xelqua's instincts will always protect him, he's small, he's 5 years old, but the Watcher part of his brain is still watching out for him. Even though Grian is no threat to him, the Eyes feel scary, so they have to be blocked.

When Grian finally spots Xelqua, he uses his wings to propel himself forward to scoop Xelqua up. Xelqua barely has time to react. Grian lands a few steps ahead, still frazzled and holding Xelqua in his hands, his worry pours out mistakenly as anger. Where have you been ? Don't you know how dangerous it is here ? Grian realizes he's accidentally shouting and bites his tongue. He lets go of Xelqua and hugs him instead, which is probably the first time he's held him so tightly before while on the ground. Xelqua doesn't really know how to react to this, he thought he was in trouble, but ..? A little confusing !

Xelqua had probably JUST found a Hermit too, who was patiently and politely trying to get him to stay still while they contacted Grian. They can tell from Grian's reaction that Xelqua was definitely lying and did not get permission to walk around by himself (what a surprise)

Seeing Grian so stressed out probably pushes a few Hermits to ~gently remind Grian that hey.... you know you can always text us when you need help with him... any time !! any ! time !

Its a turning point for their dynamic, and a learning experience for both

[satellite-evans]

tolerate it

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x reader

Summary: You know your love should be celebrated, but lewis just tolerates it.

Word count: 4.4k+

Warnings: angst, based on the Taylor Swift song

A/N:

hello everyone, this is the second fic that I'm posting from the folkmore series, hope you guys like it, tell me what you think! xxx

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

It was past midnight when you heard the door click open.

The sound was soft, almost hesitant, but it cut through the heavy silence like a blade. Your breath hitched as your eyes flickered toward the entrance, where the dim glow from the hallway outlined the silhouette you had been waiting for.

You had been waiting for him for hours, like you’re just a little kid.

You hated when he made you feel like that.

Vulnerable.

Curled up in the vast, impersonal hotel bed, the sheets cool against your skin, you had stared out at the glittering city beyond the window. The neon lights and distant hum of traffic had been your only companions, pulsing with a life that felt so far away from the hollow quiet of the room.

Lewis had promised he wouldn’t be late.

“Dinner, just us,” he had said, voice warm over the phone, brimming with the kind of reassurance that made you believe in him, in this. “I’ll be back after press.”

You had believed him.

But the plates on the small table remained untouched, the candles you had lit now melted into forgotten wax, their flames long extinguished. Hours had slipped through your fingers, and with them, the naive hope that maybe—just maybe—this time would be different.

The door shut with a muted click, and then he was there.

His posture was tired, his movements sluggish, weighed down by something unseen. The sharp lines of his suit were slightly rumpled, his tie loosened as if he had been pulling at it absently. Shadows clung to his features, exhaustion settling in the creases around his mouth, the faint furrow of his brow.

You knew better than to expect an apology.

Still, you tried.

“You’re late.”

Your voice was quiet, steady, but beneath it was the weight of hours spent in silence, of expectations left unmet, of love given and not quite returned in the way you needed.

Lewis sighed, setting his bag down with a dull thud. “Yeah. Sorry. Meetings ran over.”

A familiar script. The same words, the same excuse. You had heard it before, and yet, some foolish part of you had wanted to believe that this night, this promise, would matter enough for him to keep it.

You swallowed, shifting to sit up. “I waited.”

He glanced at you then, a brief flicker of acknowledgment, as if he was only just realizing that you had been here the whole time, waiting for him to come.

Something about that thought made your throat tighten.

You noticed everything.

The way his shoulders tensed. How he avoided your gaze. The way he kicked off his shoes without care, as if shedding the weight of the day, but not the weight of you. He hadn’t even asked if you had eaten, if you were okay, if you were lonely in the way that made silence unbearable.

“You should’ve eaten without me,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face, his exhaustion evident, but it wasn’t the kind of tiredness that could excuse this.

“I wasn’t hungry,” you admitted, but what you meant was I wanted to eat with you.

Lewis didn’t respond. He just sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, scrolling through his phone. The light from the screen cast shadows over his face, sharp angles softened by fatigue, but his focus was elsewhere. Not here. Not on you.

You watched him, waiting, willing him to look at you, to see you.

He didn’t.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, the fabric cool beneath your fingertips. “Did you even think about me tonight?”

The question came out softer than you intended, almost fragile.

His thumbs hovered over the screen, a moment of hesitation before he let out a slow breath. “Of course I did.”

Automatic. Distant. A response without weight.

But you noticed.

You noticed everything he didn’t do.

How he didn’t ask how your day was. How he didn’t kiss your forehead. How he didn’t check to see if you were okay.

He had seen the world, built empires, conquered tracks and stadiums, his name spoken in stadiums filled with roaring crowds.

And yet, he couldn’t see you.

The realization lodged itself deep in your chest, an ache that settled between your ribs, suffocating in its quiet devastation. You blinked rapidly, turning away, as if looking at him any longer might shatter something within you.

You had waited by the door like a child waiting for love.

But it never came.

And you feared that it was just the beginning.

The apartment was quiet, save for the soft rustling of pages as you sat curled up on the couch, the worn edges of your book comforting beneath your fingertips. The familiar weight of it grounded you, but the world beyond the pages seemed distant. You barely registered the words you read as your mind wandered. Your eyes flicked over the sentences, but your thoughts weren't really there, drifting elsewhere, like leaves caught in the breeze.

Across from you, Lewis sat at the other end of the couch, his posture slouched, one leg stretched out lazily, his fingers tapping away at his phone screen with a kind of detached urgency. He was completely engrossed, lost in whatever was filling the quiet. The room felt too small for both of you, the space between you stretching impossibly wide, even though you were physically close.

Once, nights like this were your favorite—when the world outside felt like a distant hum, and the two of you could be alone in your own little bubble. You'd lie with your head resting in his lap, his fingers gently combing through your hair, the soft rhythm of his touch calming your racing thoughts. The two of you would talk about everything and nothing—memories that didn't matter, dreams that didn’t make sense, moments that felt significant only because they were shared.

Sometimes, he'd ask about your book, his voice always genuinely curious, like he wanted to know what was going on in your world, in the spaces your mind occupied when it wandered from him. You'd talk about the characters, the plot twists, the themes. He’d listen—really listen—his full attention on you, his eyes never leaving your face. He’d smile at your excitement, never rushing you to finish your thoughts. He cared, you knew he cared.

But now, he barely looked up.

You glanced at him, hoping for something, anything—a sign that he saw you, that he remembered you sitting there, sharing the same space with him, even if you weren’t speaking. You shifted on the couch, a small movement, and waited. But the hum of his phone screen was louder than your quiet longing, the way it flickered in the dim light between you. He didn't even seem to hear the shift in the air, the unspoken distance growing between you both.

"Lewis," you said, your voice tentative, barely louder than a whisper. It felt like a plea, a fragile thread reaching out into the silence.

He didn’t look up, didn’t pause his scrolling. He just hummed, distracted, absorbed in whatever message or notification had taken his attention.

Your throat tightened. You swallowed, trying to push past the rising frustration, the feeling of being invisible. You turned your attention back to your book, but the words were blurry now, swimming on the page. The book’s comfort, its familiarity, was lost, just as everything else was.

Your grip on the book tightened, your knuckles white. The pages felt flimsy, like they might tear under the weight of your thoughts. You tried to read, tried to force the sentences into your mind, but they slipped away, like water through your fingers.

You waited for him to sense the shift. The silence had stretched so long, had settled so thick between you, surely it must have been noticeable. But he didn’t look at you—not once. Not like before.

And then, finally, a sigh. Lewis leaned back against the couch, stretching his long arms above his head, a groan escaping his lips as he relaxed, the tension in his body slowly unwinding. Only then did he lower his phone and glance over at you. "You're quiet," he said, his voice lazy and unbothered. His eyes lingered for a moment, but it wasn’t the kind of look you had hoped for. There was no searching there, no real curiosity. Just a passing observation.

A hollow smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “Am I?” The question felt so small, so inconsequential. It barely mattered. Not anymore. It was as if you were asking him if you were still here, if he even noticed the emptiness that had begun to fill the spaces around you.

He frowned slightly, a tiny crease between his brows. He knew something was off—he had to. But instead of asking, instead of trying to understand, he just let the moment slip away. With a casual shrug, he picked up the remote and flicked on the TV, the soft hum of the screen suddenly taking over the room.

The moment passed. Just like that.

You turned another page, pretending to read, though the words no longer had meaning. Your fingers trembled slightly, the book suddenly feeling like an anchor dragging you further into the depths of a silence you didn’t know how to escape.

Lewis? He didn’t notice the way your hands shook as you held the pages. He didn’t notice that the sound of his voice, so dismissive, had rattled something inside you, that the lack of attention hurt in ways you couldn’t put into words. He didn’t see it—the slow, painful unraveling of everything you once had.

But you?

You noticed everything. Everything he does or doesn’t do.

Deep inside, you want to tell him, that he is slipping away. That he isn’t as affectionate as he was before, that his actions hurt more than his words.

But you don’t.

He’ll tell you that you’ve got it wrong somehow and that it’s all in you head.

After all, he so much older and wiser.

And you’re just a kid waiting by the door for him.

And as the hours slipped away, the room remained quiet, save for the dull hum of the television and the soft rustle of your book, neither of you reaching for each other.

Your birthday used to be something special. He always made it a point to do something thoughtful—small surprises that brought a smile to your face, handwritten letters tucked away in places you’d least expect them, flowers arriving at your doorstep, even when he was oceans away. His thoughtfulness had always been a quiet assurance that no matter the distance or how busy life got, you were his priority. He never let the day slip by unnoticed. Last year, he had even flown home in secret, pretending to be too swamped with work, only to surprise you with an intimate dinner on the rooftop, the glow of the city lights reflecting in his eyes as he held your hand and whispered how much you meant to him. You had laughed, a little in disbelief, as you realized what he’d done. It felt like a moment frozen in time, perfect in every way.

But this year… it was different.

You woke up alone. The room was unnervingly quiet, the kind of stillness that made the space feel too large. You blinked into the early morning light, but his side of the bed remained untouched. The sheets were cold, the indentation where he’d lain barely visible. You reached over instinctively, but all that greeted your fingers was the emptiness of a space that should have been filled with warmth. A part of you had hoped that, even in this stillness, you’d find a glimmer of what you once shared. But there was nothing.

You grabbed your phone, half-expecting to see a message from him—a simple “Good morning,” a “Happy birthday,” maybe even an “I love you” to make up for the absence you felt so deeply. But the screen was blank. No notifications. No reminder that it was the day you both used to cherish. You refreshed it, as if somehow you’d missed it, but the silence persisted.

The hours seemed to drag on endlessly. The sun had moved across the sky, casting shadows on the walls of your apartment, and still, there was no word from him.

By the time evening arrived, and the darkness of the night crept into the corners of the room, you were still waiting. Again. You had convinced yourself that maybe there was a plan—maybe he was just waiting for the right moment to surprise you, to make up for the quiet morning. But as the clock ticked, hope started to wither, replaced by a quiet ache in the pit of your stomach.

Then, the door finally creaked open, and Lewis stepped inside. But the man who walked through the door didn’t look like the one you had fallen in love with. His shoulders were slumped with exhaustion, the weight of the day pressing down on him in a way you’d never seen before. The usual spark in his eyes was gone, replaced with the dull haze of someone who had given everything to the outside world, leaving nothing for the person who mattered most.

“Hey,” you greeted softly, like a battle hero’s welcome, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, because you so desperately wanted him to be different than he was, you wanted the old Lewis that you missed so deeply.

He didn’t even look at you as he muttered a distracted, “Hey, love.” He leaned in and kissed your cheek absently, the gesture so distant that it felt more like a routine than an act of affection. He didn’t even stop to meet your gaze, already moving past you, his shoes scuffing against the floor, as though he was tired of the weight of the world and wanted nothing more than to escape the moment.

You swallowed thickly, unsure of what to say, but you couldn’t shake the tight knot forming in your throat. Maybe, just maybe, he was waiting for the perfect moment to reveal something to you—something big, something meaningful that would somehow make up for this strange, cold distance between you both.

“So…” You hesitated, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. “Do you know what today is?” Your words felt like they were slipping through your fingers as soon as you spoke them.

Lewis frowned, his eyes unfocused for a moment, as though he couldn’t place your question in the rush of his thoughts. Then, the realization hit him. His face softened for a split second, but the fleeting look of guilt that flashed across his features only made the ache in your chest grow. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes darting toward the floor in a mix of shame and frustration.

You let out a quiet laugh—one that came from somewhere deep within you, a laugh that held no humor, only the sting of hurt. You tried to mask it, but the hollow sound of it betrayed you.

“Sorry, babe,” he sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Meetings ran long. I completely lost track of the date.” His words were like a dull, apologetic hum in the air, as if they were meant to ease the tension, but instead, they only highlighted the distance between you.

You nodded, your lips twitching into a forced smile. He reached into his bag, pulling out a small box with a vague sense of urgency. It was wrapped in plain paper, and the moment he handed it to you, you already knew. It wasn’t the thoughtfulness that had once marked his gestures, the careful consideration he used to show. It was a generic bracelet, one that was so forgettable it could have been picked up last minute at an airport. You’d seen something just like it in the window of a chain store, the kind of thing you’d never wear, let alone want on a day like today.

You forced another smile, since nowadays you could only force a smile when you were with him. “It’s nice,” you managed to say, your voice distant, as though it wasn’t even yours. You held the bracelet in your hand, feeling the cold metal press against your skin, but it didn’t feel like a gift. It felt like a placeholder—something to fill the space where something meaningful should have been.

Lewis exhaled in relief, completely oblivious to the storm that was rising within you. “Good. I wasn’t sure if you’d like it.” He sat down beside you, but he was already pulling out his phone, his attention already slipping away from you, as though whatever had just happened didn’t matter. The reality of it settled over you like a weight you couldn’t escape.

You stared at him then, at the man you had once known so well, the one who had made you feel seen and cherished. You looked at him and wondered, not for the first time, when he had stopped knowing you. When had he stopped seeing you, truly seeing you, and started drifting through the motions of a relationship that was no longer alive with the passion it once had? Was it the work? The endless hours? The meetings, the obligations, the distractions that had become more important than you? Or had you just started fading into the background, little by little, until you were nothing but a shadow in the life he used to care about?

You wanted to reach out, to shake him, to demand something more—something real, something that would remind you both of what you once had. But instead, you remained silent, the quiet ache in your chest growing with each passing second. The man you had loved with everything you had was slipping away, and you simply had enough.

Everything had led to this moment. Every sigh, every unspoken word, every night you went to bed alone in the same bed you'd once shared with warmth and laughter. Everything had brought you to this painful, inevitable place.

The dinner table was set, every detail carefully arranged. Candles flickered, their soft, warm light casting shadows on the walls. But the warmth didn't reach your heart. It didn't even reach your soul. It was just light, a false promise of something that had long since faded.

Lewis walked in, the familiar sound of his keys hitting the countertop sharp against the heavy silence. He didn’t even take a moment to look at you. Just a glance over his shoulder as he dropped the keys with a slight clink. “Hey,” he said. No kiss. No hug. No warmth. Just that—like an empty word that hung in the air, too thin to mean anything.

You forced a smile, your lips trembling slightly at the edges, betraying the storm inside you. "I made dinner," you said, the words catching in your throat.

He nodded. Barely looked at you. Barely looked at the table. "Looks nice, babe." His eyes were already glued to his phone, the familiar, mindless scroll of distraction. Your heart sank, the sharp sting of his indifference slicing through the fragile walls you’d built around your vulnerability.

The little kid had enough. She was done waiting.

You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms, but you kept your voice steady. You had to. You had to say it. "You’re distracted."

Lewis glanced up at you, his gaze unfocused. "What?"

It was a simple question, a small moment. But to you, it felt like a slap in the face. A reminder that he wasn’t listening. A reminder that you had been shouting in silence for so long, only to hear nothing in return. "You don’t see me anymore, Lewis. Not really."

He sighed, his breath heavy with frustration, his eyes flicking back down to the phone screen. "That’s not fair."

"No," you said, your voice quivering with the weight of everything you couldn’t say. "It’s not fair. I pour my heart into everything I do for you, and all you can do is just tolerate it. Do you know what that makes me feel, huh? Do you?”

His jaw tightened. The subtle movement of his lips, the way his nostrils flared in exasperation—he didn’t want to hear this. But you needed him to. You needed him to understand. And maybe, just maybe, if you said it the right way, if you put it in words, he’d realize what he had been doing to you. To both of you.

"I made you my home, Lewis." You swallowed hard. "My world. I built my life around you—I made you my temple, my mural, my sky. And now?" You took a shaky breath, feeling the tremble in your voice, the crack threatening to split you open. "Now I’m begging just to be a footnote in the story of your life. You don’t care about me. It’s like I don’t even exist. And don’t tell my it’s because of work, don’t you dare because we both know that’s not true. You don’t want me, anymore. You can’t even look up if I ask you something, Lewis. While you’re out there, building other worlds and try to keep your fame, where was I? Huh? Why am I not in your life anymore Lewis? Where’s the man who'd throw blankets over my barbed wire? The one who used to soften the sharp edges, who used to make me feel seen, safe, wanted. Were you ever really here, or did I just imagine you because I desperately wanted it to b real Lewis?”

His face paled. You saw it—the way the blood drained from his features, the way your words cut through the surface of his indifference and reached something deeper. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to make him move, to make him realize how far you’d fallen. The weight of your sacrifice was too much for him to carry.

You bit back the tears, desperate to keep them in check. "I gave you all my best colors," you whispered, almost to yourself. " I loved you so much, Lewis that my love for you should be celebrated. But you? You only tolerate it.”

It was too much to carry. The ache in your chest was unbearable, a deep, suffocating weight that filled every corner of the room. You turned away, feeling the cracks in your heart widen, spreading like a fracture in glass. But this time, Lewis didn’t stop you. This time, he let you walk away.

You could hear the sound of your own breathing, shallow and unsteady, as if the very air around you had thickened with sorrow. Something inside you cracked—small at first, a tiny fracture, but spreading rapidly, until the whole thing was about to shatter.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. Maybe—just maybe—he would realize it now. Maybe the weight of your words, the rawness in your voice, would finally settle in his chest and he would reach for you. Maybe he would stop you, pull you back from the edge, and say the things you’d needed to hear for so long.

But when you turned back, there he was—standing in the same spot, unmoving. Silent. His expression unreadable, like a wall had been erected between the two of you. And that silence—it was the loudest thing in the room. Louder than the flickering candles. Louder than the soft ticking of the clock in the background.

Your stomach twisted, nausea rising in your throat, threatening to choke you. "Say something," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, too soft to hold the weight of the pain, too fragile to withstand the truth. "Please, say something."

Lewis exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face like he was trying to scrub the weariness of life off. "I don’t know what you want me to say."

You let out a breathless, bitter laugh, hollow and broken. "You never do, do you?" Your words hung in the air between you, a delicate thread of hurt and frustration. "You never know what I need, what I want. And it’s killing me."

His brows furrowed, like he couldn’t understand the depth of what you were saying. "That’s not fair"

"Isn’t it?" You gestured between the two of you—at the untouched dinner, the still air, the dim candlelight flickering as though it, too, was struggling to stay alive. "Because I think it is. I think it’s perfectly fair to want the person I love to see me. To really see me."

Lewis ran a hand over his jaw, shaking his head, but it wasn’t a movement of remorse. It was the kind of denial you had seen so many times before, the kind of shrug that told you he didn’t want to acknowledge the weight of your pain. "You’re acting like I don’t care about you. Like I don’t—"

He stopped himself. The hesitation was there, sharp and telling. And you caught it. You always did.

"Like you don’t what, Lewis?" You stepped closer to him, heart pounding, every inch of your body trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. "Like you don’t love me?"

His silence was deafening. It wrapped around you like a suffocating blanket. No words. No comfort. Nothing to hold on to.

And there it was—the truth you had been avoiding for so long, the truth that had been hiding in the spaces between his hollow words, between the gaps in his touch. The truth that had been there all along, but you couldn’t see it until now.

Your throat tightened, and you fought to keep the tears at bay. You refused to cry. Not here. Not now. Not in front of him. Not when he had already given you his answer without saying a word.

"You used to," you whispered, your voice cracking. "Didn’t you?"

Lewis’s jaw clenched, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, but no words came. No apology. No explanation. He couldn’t give you that, because he didn’t feel it. He didn’t feel you anymore.

And that was it.

The final fracture. The last piece of your heart crumbled away, slipping through your fingers like sand.

"I gave you everything," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, fragile like glass. "I fought so hard for us. But I can’t be the only one fighting anymore."

Lewis’s lips parted, like he wanted to say something. Anything. But no words came. He just stood there, silent, frozen, as though the weight of your confession had paralyzed him.

And then, you made the decision.

You grabbed your coat from the chair, your fingers trembling as you slipped it on. Each movement felt like it took everything out of you. Every step toward the door felt heavier than the last, like the universe itself was trying to hold you back, to keep you from walking away. But you didn’t stop.

Not even when you reached the door. You hesitated, your fingers curling around the handle, torn between the need to leave and the desperate wish that he would stop you. That he would say something. Anything.

Call out your name. Tell you that you mattered. That he loved you. That he wasn’t ready to lose you.

But the silence was louder than anything he could have said.

You opened the door, the cool air of the night pressing against your skin, and you stepped into it. And this time, you didn’t stop.

Not even when the door closed behind you, cutting off the final thread that had connected you to him.

You were done being tolerated.

[alaia777]

i so squealed when i saw ur recent post could i request can we trade? yours is way better! with rin tysmmm i love ur work

oh my goddddd thank you so so so much, i hope you like it :’) i also love ur work !!!!!

if you knew he was going to frown and grumble the entire walk to the café, you would’ve just left him at home. but no—he couldn’t listen. you warned him. you threatened him. if he so much as touched a football on his day off, you were going to invite his brother over to your guys’ place. and yet, here he was, dragging his feet like a kid forced to run errands, acting like this was some huge punishment.

the least he could do was suck it up and come with you, especially after you sat through 90 minutes of a match between two teams you couldn’t even be bothered to remember.

“if you want to spend quality time together, then you should sit down and do something i enjoy for once.” that’s what he said at the time. and thinking back on it now, you try not to cringe. he wasn’t just watching the game—he was in it, barking orders at the screen like a wannabe captain. or coach. either way, he gave you the ick that day.

“my friend told me this place is amazing. they make the best crepes in the world,” you say, glancing at him.

he stops for a second, frowning even harder—if that was even possible.

“crepes? you made me skip lunch because you were taking me out to eat, and we’re getting crepes?”

you ignored him and picked up the pace as soon as the café came into view. luckily, it wasn’t too crowded—you wanted to sit down and actually enjoy the atmosphere. you didn’t bother waiting for him, heading straight to the counter to order. and, okay, maybe you went a little overboard with the toppings. whipped cream, chocolate, and peanut butter sounded like a great combo in theory. but now, staring at your plate, you weren’t so sure. especially when you saw his. simple, golden, and so much more appetizing than the sugary mess in front of you.

you cut into yours and take a bite—or at least, you try to. the way all the toppings mix together on your fork makes your stomach turn. rin doesn’t even have to look up to know you’re staring at his. you’re not exactly subtle, practically slouching over the table to get your plates closer together. he can already hear you—

“can we trade? yours is way better!” you blurt out, already reaching with your fork.

but he’s faster, dragging his plate away before you can even think about stealing a bite.

“no. yours looks disgusting. what were you even thinking when you ordered that?”

you huff, glaring at him. “i was hungry, okay? not all of us spend hours strategizing our meals like we’re in a champions league final.”

you sigh and settle back into your chair, feeling a little guilty. how selfish of you to want to take his plate after you starved him of his lunch just because you couldn’t think straight in front of so many amazing toppings and flavors. you glance up briefly to see him getting out of his chair, probably to use the restroom, and you don’t bother looking away from your plate. maybe if you just open it up and eat it from the inside… or maybe you could fold it differently? you squint at it, trying to find a way to make this work.

you don’t even know how much time has passed since you started trying to figure out how to eat your damn crepes. all you know is that you’re completely lost in your thoughts when suddenly, your plate is replaced with another one. one with a single topping on it—your favorite one! you look up, and rin is already sitting back down, casually eating his own crepes.

“rinnnn,” you say in a whiny, happy voice, leaning toward him with a wide grin, “you actually love me so much, like, you can’t live without me, right? and you want to marry me right now, right?”

rin doesn’t even look up from his food, his tone deadpan as he answers.

“yeah, sure. after you finish that thing you call a crepe.”

[11queensupreme11]

If Dory is the youngest Posy kid, who's the eldest? Ariel?

it's this guy!

axiandros, the dude percy subtly named after anthonius lol!

also, i finally made up a personality for him too hehe so i'm gonna ramble about him for a bit

axiandros is the first born posy kid and he was actually pretty decent when he was younger!!! percy raised him to be kind and human, and he was!!!!

....until he got older and poseidon sunk his claws in him 💀

unfortunately, displeasing his father has more severe consequences than displeasing his mother. pissing poseidon off would lead to all kinds of verbal, physical, and psychological abuse whereas with percy he would more or less get a stern lecture about right or wrong. the latter's a lot easier to cope with 💀

he's the eldest too so he was the first kid to experience first-hand what it means to disappoint his father. not only that, but he's poseidon's FIRST EVER SON. poseidon absolutely refuses to except ANY flaws from his own first-born. he must be perfect, or he'll get rid of him.

so out of fear, when he was still young, he started to obey to his father more. he became less kinder, less sweeter, less like a "normal kid" and more like a god. he worked his ass off to make zero mistakes in everything he did. he tossed aside all of percy's teachings and values because being like that only led to more abuse. but soon enough, being "perfect" became less of a way for him to survive and more natural as he gradually started to absorb more and more of poseidon's ways until it actually became who he was. and thus, a yandere was born 😔💔

HE ALSO HAS BEEF WITH EUDORIOS LMAO

as i mentioned before, eudorios basically has the percy's 🥺uwu🥺 he's ditzy, lovable, charming, a giant himbo, he's basically PERCY but 1000000x more unhinged

but nobody knows that eudorios is actually unhinged. to the other gods, he's just a sweetiepie, a percy 2.0 with poseidon's face. he's the "angel" of the posy kids just like his mommy

and axiandros. fucking. HATES it 😭😭😭😭 eudorios is imperfect. he's flawed. he makes mistakes. he's stupid. ridiculous. rarely takes anything seriously. he likes humans (eudorios actually sees them more as cute and dumb creatures but they don't know that 😭)

(eudorios is just like their mother but axiandros refuses to call her "imperfect" tho lol)

and worse off, percy ADORES him 😂😂😂 he can't stand it. he's forced to watch his beloved mother dote on his failure of a little brother despite him already being grown. she smothers him with love and spends so much time with him, and axiandros is JEALOUS.

poor dude longs for the old days where percy used to dote and baby him, but that was back when he was still innocent and sweet. he's become a monster now, and percy sees how different he is, how cruel he's become and it breaks her heart 😭💔 she never says it out loud though, she still treats him well. but she doesn't BABY him anymore. doesn't shower him with love and affection anymore, but not because she doesn't love him, but because she believes he doesn't want that 😭 he's poseidon jr now, nobody would ever think he wants to be coddled and treated like a baby 💀💀💀

but anyway, the dory and axiandros beef is so fucking funny and also really sad. because axiandros did everything he could to earn his father's approval, but he's lost his mother's affections. he doesn't get it and it drives him crazy. he's "perfect", so why doesn't mother love him as much as she loves eudorios???

"does mother hate me? why does she love eudorios so much? why didn't she protect me as fiercely as she protects him?"