#in which Ash attempts to give some advice

[talonabraxas]

The Legend of Radha-Krishna Talon Abraxas

The Legend Young Krishna is known to be very playful and mischievous. The story goes that as a child, Krishna was extremely jealous of Radha's fair complexion since he himself was very dark.

One day, Krishna complained to his mother Yashoda about the injustice of nature which made Radha so fair and he so dark. To pacify the crying young Krishna, the doting mother asked him to go and colour Radha's face in whichever colour he wanted.

In a mischievous mood, naughty Krishna heeded the advice of mother Yashoda and applied colour on her beloved Radha's face; Making her one like himself.

Well, there is also a legend to explain Krishna's dark complexion. It so happened that once a demon attempted to kill infant Krishna by giving him poisoned milk. Because of which Krishna turned blue. But Krishna did not die and the demon shriveled up into ashes.

The beautiful scene of Krishna's prank in which he played colour with Radha and other gopis has been made alive in myriad forms in a number of paintings and murals.

The Celebrations Somehow, the lovable prank of Krishna where he applied colour on Radha and other gopis using water jets called pichkaris gained acceptance and popularity. So much so that it evolved as a tradition and later, a full-fledged festival. Till date, use of colours and pichkaris is rampant in Holi. Lovers long to apply colour on their beloveds face and express their affection for each other.

This legend is wonderfully brought alive each year all over India, particularly in Mathura, Vrindavan, Barsana and Nandgaon-the places associated with Krishna and Radha.

In fact, the entire country gets drenched in the colour waters when it is time for Holi and celebrate the immortal love of Krishna and Radha.

In some states of India, there is also a tradition to place the idols of Radha and Krishna in a decorated palanquin, which is then carried along the main streets of the city. All this while, devotees chant Krishna's name, sing devotional hymns and dance in the name of the lord.

[tryingmyhand-atwriting]

BEGIN AGAIN 

Chapter One : An Unplanned Run-In

Notes: Hi, everyone (or no one if no one bothers to read!) This is my first ever attempt at posting fan-fiction that I have written, although I have been a reader of it for years. I’ve been in multiple fandoms through out the years but never had the guts to post anything out of fear of not being good enough or no one liking it but I figure - if one person likes it or one hundred people like it, it will all mean the same to me which is utter gratefulness that will swell within me. I am posting under a side blog so no one will know it’s me although I think there is someone who has found me (if so, hi Elise I love you.) Even if you hate it and it sucks and is boring be nice to me please I am baby. That is all - if you have made it this far I am grateful for that too.

Warnings: SLOW BURN. Hang in with me folks once we get to the good stuff it’s promising. Also, new writer - that’s a warning in itself too.

Word Count: 6545

Ashley Tisdale would argue that at times she knew her best friend better than he knew himself. Since the first day they met their connection had been instant and not even time or distance had proven able to dispel the friendship they both helped to nourish.

Not seeing him for three years didn’t change a thing between them and the older sister intuition kicks in when he’s over for the first time upon returning, meeting Jupiter in person now that he’s home, when he says, ‘Member Isabela?” And a lightbulb goes on over her head.

Ashley remembers a pretty, young eighteen year old interning for Austin’s personal assistant in 2013 to 2014. Isabela had been kind to a fault and so gentle as a person that Ashley–and Austin–had developed a protectiveness over her. She had fit into their group effortlessly and there was a close friendship that had developed between Austin and her. So close they were, Ashley would joke about being replaced. It all went downhill after the Great Incident of 2014 and Ashley never heard Austin nor Vanessa speak about Isabela again.

She exits her kitchen, resting against the doorway with her arms crossed. “Yeah I do,” she replies wondering where he would take it next. Austin hums but doesn’t reply as he continues stroking Jupiter’s back, the toddler asleep on the couch beside him. “Did you run into her or something?” She probes.

“Nah, just been… reminiscin’, I guess.” But Ashley knows her best friend, knows by the clench of his jaw and glint in his eyes that he has more to say. Things he may not want to admit or isn’t sure he should admit. “When Lydia told me she was stepping down after havin’ her baby I asked if she had any contact with Isabela but she said they don’t talk anymore.”

Ashley does a double take. “You wanna offer her the job?” She isn’t sure how to explain to him that if someone reached out after years with no contact , she would have a lot to say to that person. Granted, Isabela would never give anyone a piece of her mind but to save Austin from rejection she knows he is in desperate need of some womanly advice. “Don’t you think that’d be, uh–I’m not sure these are the right words but–awkward and mean after what happened?”

“It doesn’t have to be for the job, Ash.” Austin shrugs his shoulders. “With all these new changes in my life I guess I just uh–I know what people I want in my life now.” Ashley has seen firsthand what he means. While paparazzi had always been a part of their lives, the recent attention and invasiveness being introduced to Austin’s life was something new. A level of fame even Ashley hadn’t achieved with High School Musical..

Ashley had faith in Austin and his talent, even if he wasn’t as confident in himself. She could see his wildest dreams coming true but with Elvis, Ashley also knew he had learnt some lessons scary enough they would never shake. She saw he was frightened to death of being made to be someone he wasn’t, of being put on a pedestal and failing to meet expectations. Most importantly, Austin was made aware of how quickly people came around for the wrong reasons, ready to take advantage of success, money, and fame. Someone who freely gave loyalty and honesty expected it in return, a betrayal of that nature would hurt Austin the most. Ashley had seen Austin lose himself and have to find who he was again, but the man who reemerged was skeptical, with a new point of view.

“So you want to make amends?”

It takes Austin a while to look at Ashley, his hand rubbing soothing circles on Jupiter’s back. “More than anything I just wanna talk to her.” But she sees the longing in his eyes when they meet hers and pieces of the puzzle begin to fit together.

That’s how Ashley ends up at Chucky’s Bar in Los Feliz on a Thursday night. She didn’t tell Austin that she occasionally chats with Isabela over Instagram because she didn’t want him to do something embarassing like slide into her DMs with a lame greeting and possible emoji. Austin was smooth and charming in many ways, but at the end of the day, he was only a man and this situation was better handled with a woman’s touch. All it had taken was a ‘miss you! when are you free?’ before Isabela responded saying that this was where she’d be on her last night in LA before she traveled to Hawaii for a work trip.

“Ashley! You came!” There’s a girly squeal and arms squeezing her from behind before she turns to face Isabela. There’s a wide smile on her face and her hair frizzes with the humidity of the crowded bar. Sweat shines on her face, mascara smudged under her eyes, but Ashley has to smile– Isabela never let perceived-imperfections dull her shine. “You look hot.” Isabela checks her friend out with an impressed grin.

“I feel out of my element. I can’t remember the last time I dressed up.” Ashley giggles, taking in her surroundings. “I’m also scared I’m going to start leaking and ruin this dress.” She gestures to her enlarged breasts, made more noticeable by the deep V-cut of her dress.

Isabela lets out a loud laugh. “Some guys like that,” she whispers conspiratorially and Ashley slaps her on the arm. Isabela grabs Ashley by the hand and begins leading her to a table, “Come on, a friend saved us a table. Victoria’s got bar duty tonight but she’ll be checking in occasionally.”

“Victoria’s still working here?”

Chucky’s Bar brought back many late night memories for Ashley. There were many drunken nights spent at the low-key bar where Ashley, Austin, and Vanessa had never been recognized. It was at this bar where Ashley met Isabela and her tough as nails cousin, Victoria, who was cold the entire night and would only make rounds to their table to make sure Isabela was drinking enough water to go along with the tequila. It had taken almost a month for Victoria to warm up to the former Disney kids. Ashley was sure any kindness on Victoria’s part was thrown out the window after the Incident.

Ashley would have found Victoria’s over protectiveness creepy if she didn’t understand why. Isabela was sweetly naive, always seeing the best in the world and people around her. An innocence that had probably broken her heart more than once. It hadn’t taken long for Ashley to feel the same way towards Isabela, like she was a younger sister.

“She practically runs this place. Derek’s one year away from retiring and he’s already promised to leave it to her.” Isabela’s face beams with pride. As they approach the table she turns to face Ashley briefly and catches the uncertainty in her eyes, the awkward hunch to her shoulders, that only comes when someone feels unwelcome. Isabela reaches to hold Ashley’s fingers in hers. “She’s gonna be on her best behavior, okay? I told her you were coming and anyways, everything that happened that day had nothing to do with you.”

Doesn’t it, Ashley wants to ask. Guilt gnaws at her, knowing she was meeting up with Isabela for selfish reasons. To do her best friend’s dirty work, get him into contact with someone who probably, most likely–definitely–wants nothing to do with him.

“We talking about how Victoria breastfeeds you?” There’s a busty redhead seated at the table. She’s loud in her proclamation and beautiful in a sheer silver dress. She’s gorgeous, her hair swept back in an updo and her legs crossed, the hem of her dress rising dangerously high. Already there’s more than a few curious eyes glancing towards their table. She smiles at Ashley but it drops when she catches sight of Isabela’s empty hands. She guffaws, offended, “Where are the shots? You get up and come back with no shots?”

Isabela tumbles into the seat beside her, laughing good-naturedly at her friend’s offense. It was obvious the girls had started drinking before her arrival but Ashley didn’t mind; she was planning on an easy night. Hangovers tend to be a multi-day affair once you hit thirty. “Luis said he’ll bring ‘em out to us,” Isabela tells her friend before presenting her to Ashley. “This is the worst influence in my life and the devil on my shoulder — Ash, meet Sky. She was my college roommate and yes, Victoria hates her. Doesn’t give you any right to talk shit about her though,” Isabela pinches Sky’s underarm for good measure.

“I wasn’t talking shit about her, I was making fun of you. The pretty princess stuck in the tower–you’re twenty-six.” It must be a sermon Isabela has heard before because all she offers in response to Sky’s mocking tone is an exaggerated eye roll and a shake of her head.

“Don’t worry, Victoria hates me too,” Ashley tells Sky. “She’s just always gonna look out for Isabela. No judgments here.”

Sky puts a hand on Ashley’s arm,eyes twinkling. “Oh my God. We should totally start a club.”

“I think you two booze hounds have had enough,” a blond waiter approaches their table, balancing a tray of shots. He looks toward Ashley, clarifying, “I mean those two. Especially this one,” he shoves an elbow into Sky’s side, the woman yelping and returning the hit.

Isabela leans over to touch his shoulder, imploring.. “Luis, you’re just in time. Their conversation was sobering me up.” She pouts, her lower lip jutting out.

“You just don’t like hearing the truth–”

“Not you too!”

“Ladies,” Ashley holds up her shot glass and a wedge of lemon, a strategic distraction, putting an end to the conversation. The constant back-and-forth chatter is definitely enough incentive for her to break her own self-imposed sobriety. “Are we taking this shot or what?”

“I like you,” Sky states, preparing her lemon with salt.

“Wait! We have to cheers to something,” Isabela insists when both Ashley and Sky go to throw the tequila back. She purses her lips to the side in thought, “What’s something all three of us can cheer to?”

“How about this,” Ashley begins, leaning forward on her elbows, “Sky’s here for you and so am I. So how about a cheers to Isabela for bringing us together tonight?” Isabela flushes, her lashes fanning against her cheeks as she avoids eye contact, flattered and flustered all at once. Ashley momentarily feels like she’s kissing ass, knowing she’s still wrestling with guilt over her ulterior motives, but she isn’t lying about her affection for her friend.

Sky extends her shot glass forward. “To Isabela.”

The night is a whirlwind after that. Ashley remembers a Pitbull song coming on that had Sky pulling both she and Isabela to the middle of the dance floor, smack between other dancers. There was another shot–or four–taken and by the time the girls are dancing to the fifth song of the night, now joined by a group of girls they had befriended at the bar. Ashley has to momentarily return to the table, ridding herself of her jacket.. It isn’t lost on her that the reason for her random request of a girls’ night out hasn’t been brought up once, but she doesn’t have it in her to ruin what has been an amazing night so far.

She could always try again. Preferably when it wasn’t her first time reuniting with an old friend in months.

As Ashley saunters back over to their spot on the dance floor, she catches sight of Sky’s silver dress towards the bar with Luis, no doubt asking for another round of shots. Ashley hopes–and doubts–that Sky forgot to order her one, the beginning of a headache pounding behind her eyes. Isabela’s still where she left her but a man has since joined her. He’s handsome, Ashley must admit, and standing almost a foot over Isabela who’s lacing her fingers together in front of her repeatedly. She has a smile on her face though,so Ashley doesn’t feel the need to interject as she nears.

“You’re sweet, but I’m here with my friends. Sorry,” Ashley catches Isabela apologize, her lashes fluttering as she blinks rapidly, and her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip. In anyone else Ashley would have taken the actions to be coy or flirty, but in Isabela she sees them for what they are–nervous tics. More words are exchanged and Isabela moves away when the guy places a hand at her hip. Ashley is debating on whether or not she should intercept and tell the guy to get lost, knowing it would be quicker than Isabela’s kind approach, when he throws his hand out beside him in a fist in annoyance before storming away.

Isabela stumbles back, flinching violently at his outburst, and Ashley’s beside her in the next moment, a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” She asks, scanning over Isabela. She didn’t see the guy touch her, but Isabela’s response worried her, as if he did more than utter cruel words to her. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, no.” Isabela shakes her head and attempts a smile but her eyes are glossy with unshed tears. “He just got mad and it caught me off guard, I guess. I’m fine.”

“Isabela—” you don’t seem fine, is what Ashley’s going to say but she’s cut off by the arrival of Sky–who did conjure up another round of shots–and two blonde girls they had been dancing with earlier.

“I got us more shots, bitches,” she whoops loudly, pumping a single fist. She drops the act once she takes in the heavy atmosphere. “What’s wrong?”

Ashley hesitates. Some guy was rude to Isabela and she almost cried, which was technically true, but her reaction hinted at something deeper–although the man hadn’t seemed to lay a hand on her. What worried Ashley was the possibility of someone else having done so..

“Some guy was a dick and caught me off guard. Ashley’s never seen my freak outs before.” Isabela shrugs, feigning nonchalance and maintaining eye contact with her friend. There seemed to be a million words said between them but their mouths didn’t move once. It was a look shared between best friends with no words necessary.

Sky shakes her head, turning to Ashley with another smile and extending the tray of shots again. “Isabela doesn’t go out much, so every time she does she gets shocked at what big assholes guys actually are.” She said by way of explanation, handing a shot to Isabela. “She’ll survive; it just takes her a couple seconds to shake it off.”

Ashley detects the bullshit lie, but it isn’t a topic she wants to press so publicly. Instead she politely declines the shot, “I need water for the next hour before Ubering home. It’s Jupiter’s birthday party tomorrow and I need to be up early to set up.”

“Oh, no,” Isabela’s brows pinch and she places her shot back in Sky’s hand. “I’m so sorry, I wouldn’t have asked you to come out to a bar if I knew you had to be up early tomorrow.” She interlocks her elbows with Ashley’s, pulling her to Luis’s section of the bar and signaling him for two glasses of water.

“I’m a grown woman, Is. And lack of sleep is nothing new to mothers. Having a newborn is like a hangover that lasts for months.”

Isabela chuckles, sliding her glass of water over. “What a lovely comparison!”

“I love being a mom,” Ashley defends, laughing. “But it’s not as easy as people make it out to be. At least it wasn’t for me. I called my mom crying so many times, sure that I was failing or ruining this perfect little person somehow.”

“You’ve officially talked me out of ever wanting kids.”

“Come on,” Ashley rolls her eyes. “You put everyone before yourself; you’d be the perfect mom.”

Isabela shrugs a shoulder, her elbow leaning on the table. “I don’t know. Maybe. I wanted kids when I was younger, but the past few years have basically been about my career. One thing is for sure though, I’d want it to happen on my terms and at the time I’m ready. No time soon.” The conversation and glasses of water have helped both of them sober up and, for that, Ashley is glad. The room isn’t spinning as much as it was before. Now, Ashley just feels drowsy as the alcohol leaves her system. Isabela must catch her tired expression because she hums, “What time should I be at your house tomorrow to help you set up?”

Ashley shakes her head vehemently. “You’ve got a flight tomorrow, miss. You’re going to need all the sleep you could get.”

“I could sleep on the flight,” Isabela returns smartly, her tone matter-of-fact. Ashley pushes her knee, sending her spinning on the bar stool. Isabela continues. “I feel guilty I had you come out! No way in hell are you setting up alone tomorrow before hosting a kids’ party. I’m helping!”

Luis interrupts their conversation, throwing a rag over his shoulder and refilling both glasses with more water. Ashley smiles. “Two beautiful ladies like you must be starving. My momma always said the way into a girl's heart was through her stomach.”

“I think your mom had it wrong; isn’t it supposed to be a man’s stomach?” Ashley laughs, but she has to wonder because food certainly sounded like heaven then.

“Two burgers to go please and then an Uber.” Isabela shoots him a dazzling, cheesy grin, her cheeks dimpling as she throws a hand over Ashley’s shoulder. “We’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

—

Waking up early after a night out is harder to do the older she gets. If Isabela hadn’t offered to help Ashley with Jupiter’s birthday party set up and have a flight scheduled for later on that day she would have stayed in bed nursing her hangover for the next forty-eight hours. The breeze is fresh as she waltzes up to Ashley’s front door to ring the doorbell. It’s early spring and as is regular for Los Angeles the sun is bright and scorching but the wind is a welcome reprieve from the heat. Various trees are surrounding Ashley’s front yard but Isabela doesn’t dare take off her glasses. Her eyes were probably swollen and red from lack of sleep and overdrinking the night before. Come to think of it, she still felt slightly drunk.

She had been woken up two hours earlier when Sky had crawled into her bed. Ashley and Isabela had left the bar before anyone else and the late time Sky showed up at her apartment meant that Luis and Victoria must have let her and a few others continue drinking after closing time. Isabela doesn’t understand how Sky did it. Isabela hadn’t drank half as much but knew she would be suffering twice as hard compared to Sky.

“Hi, sunshine.” Isabela can only grumble in response to Ashley’s greeting, letting her usher her inside the house with a laugh. “I told you to sleep in. I’m making Chris do all the heavy work anyway.”

“I’m perfectly able,” Isabela insists, sliding her glasses atop her head. She claps her hands, taking in the balloons and empty candy bags surrounding the living room coffee table. “Put me to work.”

There were fifteen other children in Jupiter’s daycare class and each one had a specific diet request which meant each candy bag must contain different items and not be confused. Ashley handed Isabela a list of the kids name and items their goodie bag must contain and sat her down in front of all the miniature snacks and toys. Jupiter’s party was space themed and the small moons and planets that Ashley had bought to go in the bag made Isabela coo. Why were tiny things so unfairly adorable?

“I want to make sure they are perfect,” Isabela defends with a fond eye roll when she sees Ashley arching an eyebrow as she triple checks a bag. There’s a small smile on Isabela’s lips from Ashley’s teasing but when she puts her mind to a task she always has to make sure it is done right. Not to mention that focusing her full attention on the goodie bags had her paying less attention to how sick she still felt. Even when she was younger she had never handled hangovers well.

“Do you want me to place the trash can beside you? Need a reminder as to where the closest bathrooms are?” Ashley teases her friend, noticing the large inhale and exhale she’s continuously doing and knowing it is in efforts to tame her growing nausea. She had offered Isabela tums and breakfast but Isabela insisted the only thing she would be able to keep down was water.

“I hate you,” Isabela returns, leaning back to let the couch cushions swallow her. “Drinking is not meant for me. I don’t know why I keep letting Sky talk me into nights out.” She closes her eyes for a few moments. Her eyelids feel heavy and she wonders if her eyebags are as horrible as she imagines. Isabela knew she looked a mess when she was tired. She wasn’t lucky enough to be a cute drowsy girl. No. It was all dark eyebags and swollen eyes for her.

“Think of the memories,” Ashley insists. “Memories are all we leave behind anyway.”

Isabela pops one eye open. “That was dark,” she laughs, never having known Ashley to be anything but optimistic. She gets what she is trying to say though. It doesn’t matter how much money someone left you if they were pieces of shit throughout your life, you would have rather had good times with them.

There is a shift in Ashley’s attitude, a tension in the air and Isabela knew it would come up sooner or later. She remembers being back at the bar. Crowded and sweaty and that guy had been an asshole but it was nothing new — it wasn’t until he had turned his hand into a fist and swung it beside him that she had reacted. Isabela had flinched and it made her feel weak but knowing Ashley had caught sight of it caused anxiety to flare up in her chest and overtake every feeling in her body. Hangover and shame be damned. She was sick to her stomach deciding whether she wanted Ashley to know the truth or not.

“Is,” Ashley begins, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. Isabela doesn’t want to seem flippant or uncaring of the worries her friend is bringing up so she sits up and mirrors her position. Showing she’s listening but keeping what she hopes is a blank expression on her face so nothing is given away. “Last night at the bar… when that guy asked you to dance —” Ashley cuts herself off and Isabela has been through this before. Knows that the people in her life care about her and it hurts them to think about and they can hardly bear to ask. “If you don’t want to answer it, that’s fine. We’ll move on and I promise I will never bring it up again but I have to ask at least once. What happened with that guy at the bar?”

Isabela thinks back to her sophomore year in college, freshly twenty and in love with the new usual that had taken up residence at Chucky’s Bar. He’d been a couple of years older and had only recently graduated from university, he was on his way to taking over his family restaurant. He was sweet and funny, his family had been warm and welcoming and within a blink of her eyes her sweet dream had turned into her worst nightmare. His tight grips became punches, his jealousy became delusions, and the hopes of him changing for her were flushed down the drain. She knew the saying, ‘if they did it once they will do it again’, but she had been so young and dumb and blinded. She considers herself one of the lucky ones. The incident had only escalated once and she had managed to get away.

It’s been years and she’s had therapy. Isabela isn’t angry at the world. She doesn’t hate all men. Hasn’t sworn off to ever date again or anything like that but the memories still feel fresh in her mind. Sometimes more than others and they always succeed at making her feel weak because she can’t help her body’s physical reactions. She can admit that the memories paralyze her every single time she has to deny someone something or she is in a position to displease someone, even minimally. It’s what had happened at the bar: Isabela’s palms had begun sweating the second the guy approached her because she knew she was going to turn him down. He had been kind in asking but not so nice once she had declined his offer. It hadn’t been the curses he had called her that made her flinch. The flinch had been in response to the arm he’d thrown out in exasperation and more than anything she’s only embarrassed of her lacking strength.

It’s one thing to have your weakness known and another entirely to have to explain it. It was like baring your soul to every person you came in contact with and Isabela trusts Ashley but she’s not ready for the way Ashley looks at her to change. She doesn’t need another person in her life viewing her as needing to be protected.

“My ex boyfriend wasn’t so nice,” is what Isabela settles on and she hopes that it’s enough for now. She remembers her mothers tears and Victoria’s anger when she woke up in the hospital. Ashley’s eyes soften and tear immediately and Isabela isn’t ready to draw out any other reaction. She reaches over to place a comforting hand on her friend's knee, assuring her she was with her now. “Oh Ash, don’t cry,” there’s a wobbly lip accompanying her chuckle. “It was a long time ago and I’m fine, okay? I’m right here.”

There’s astonishment in Ashley’s eyes, wonder over the strength of the woman sitting in front of her. Talking of her pain and still choosing to comfort others. “I hope Victoria killed him,” is all Ashley can think to say and Isabela lets out a watery laugh with one last pat to her knee before bringing her arm back.

“Let’s move on to these balloons, yeah?”

Three hours are spent blowing up balloons and taping them together as well as convincing Ashley to not change every detail over the chosen theme. Chris had been seconds away from crying when Ashley suggested for the tables to be moved and it was only when Isabela convinced her otherwise that the tension in his shoulders seemed to release. He had made a crazy motion behind his wife’s back and Isabela had to bite back her laugh. She sympathized with the stress on Ashley in ensuring the party was perfect for Jupiter and she was glad if she was able to ease a sliver of that.

After meeting the gorgeous and chatty Jupiter she found herself bummed that she was unable to stay. Jupiter was kind in providing Isabela with a tour of her playroom and allowing her to color in her favorite art book. There were lots of gibberish and babbles that ended with Jupiter looking up at Isabela waiting for a response so all she could do was pretend she understood the little girl with responses of ‘oh yeah’ and ‘wow’.

“I don’t want to let her go,” Isabela complains with a pout, squeezing Jupiter for a goodbye hug that the toddler was more than happy to return. “She’s perfect. I don’t understand how you guys get anything done, I just want to have her in my arms all day.” She takes advantage of having her in her arms and decides to take one last whiff of her baby head before letting go. “Have the best birthday party, little lady. Eat cake until your heart's content.”

“Uh oh, someone has baby fever.” Chris cocks a playful eyebrow in Isabela’s direction.

“No, no, no. I’m more than fine being the cool aunt who gets to spoil them rotten and hand them back during tantrums,” she replies, placing both hands on her knees to rise from her couch on the entryway, Jupiter having disappeared to the backyard. “You two should have another one, though.”

Chris’s wide eyes and immediate head shake have Isabela laughing. Ashley elbows her husband slightly, rolling her eyes at him before responding. “That one runs us ragged. We wanna wait until she’s a little older.”

Isabela can understand that. “My flight is in three hours and I still need to shower —”

“Is that what I smell?”

Ashley rolls her eyes at her husband, “Ignore him. It’s what I do.”

There is a bright smile on Isabela’s face, content to be around friends and their marital teasing. Maybe she missed them more than she thought. She feels guilty for believing Victoria when she said Ashley must have had ulterior motives for an impromptu girls night. Isabela had been nervous and taken more shots than she should have before Ashley’s arrival, convincing herself it had something to do with the mishap from years before. Fortunately Victoria and Isabela were both wrong and she found herself letting tension release in Ashley’s presence.

“Make sure to send me lots and lots of pictures of Jupiter. I want to see her chubby cheeks smothered in cake frosting and her little face when she opens her gift.” The adults peek over in the direction of the distracted toddler. “Thanks for having me over.”

“Are you kidding? Thank you for helping. I would still be stuck in a stress frenzy if you hadn’t been my sound board today,” Ashley replies, pulling her old friend in for a hug. Chris has the door open for Isabela behind them as he lets them say their goodbyes in peace, knowing it may be a while before the girls would be able to see each other again. “Let’s not go that long without contact again, ‘kay?”

Isabela shook her head. “Now that I’ve met your little monster you aren’t getting rid of me.” There’s another round of waves and goodbyes before Isabela exits their home and they close the door behind her. She feels lighter than she had when she arrived that morning, sleep deprived and slightly hungover. The air breeze against her no longer has the morning freshness and the LA heat has managed to set in.

She takes solace in the fact that in a few hours she was going to be in Hawaii. It was a light work trip with her client only having one single interview and photo shoot so she knew she would have downtime to hit the beach and local restaurant. Isabela’s making a mental note to text Jessica, her coworker and client’s social media manager, as well as opening her notes app to see the packing checklist made the day before when she hears footsteps trudging towards her and her name being called.

There's a sinking feeling in her gut. A part of her wants to run away and hide, remembering the embarrassment and shame that was brought upon her that day, but there’s a voice in her head telling her to keep her head held high and act like nothing was off.

“Austin, hey,” she hopes her tone isn’t filled with the dread she feels.

There’s a pause before she allows herself to face him for the first time in seven years. Isabela has seen him on television shows and movies, on the cover of magazines and gracing the front pages of tabloids with his then girlfriend. She would have to be in hiding to not have seen him this past year alone with all the Elvis promo, but seeing him in person manages to take her breath away. He’s handsome and that hasn’t changed. If anything, time and new opportunities have done him well. She remembers a sad boy who had just lost his mother and didn’t know what to do with his life; he was skinny and lanky and hadn’t got a haircut in months.

The man in front of her had life in him. He’s filled out since the last time she saw him and she sees a gleam in his eye that wasn’t there before. Austin must be happy, its the only guess she would make, and no matter what he put her through, happiness and health is all Isabela would have ever wished for him.

“Ash didn’t tell me you’d be here,” he says as he approaches closer to where she stands. Isabela expects the hug, finds herself accepting it, and then she immediately hates herself after. “It’s so good seeing you. I’ve been thinking about you.” Austin has never been one to shy away from his feelings, he’s always been one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but this once she wishes he wasn’t so honest because it somehow hurts more to know she’s crossed his mind and he never reached out. “My assistant, uh, Lydia, remember her? She's pregnant. Told me last week and she was really happy. She’s gonna become a stay at home mom after, I think.”

There’s a brow arch because she’s unsure of how the news pertains to her. Isabela has talked to Lydia frequently through the years and the woman had called her a few days prior to share the news. “Yeah, she told me. Her and Raul are really excited. I mean, good for them, I know they’ll make the best parents.”

Austin looks like he’s gonna continue as he nods his head along in agreement but, “Hang on, you keep in touch with her?” He asks and he looks genuinely confused. It makes two of them because Isabela has no idea what’s going on in this conversation or what she could possibly have to do with Lydia being pregnant and why on earth it would be the first thing Austin wants to share with her after six years of no contact.

Isabela nods slowly. “She’s been a great help to me through the years. Helped me finish my internship and get an interview at this agency I’m at. I tell her she makes me feel like a nepo baby with all the connections she offers.” The fond eye roll shows all the love between the two women and transports Austin back in time to when there was a genuine friendship between them and he remembers to put the conversation back on track, where he wants it to head.

“Well, the job’s yours. If you want it.” There’s a dead silence that takes up the space between them. Quiet enough where he can hear the sound of the leaves rustling on Ashley’s front yard and the faint sound of a car honking from a block over. Austin feels the need to explain, “The past year has been amazing, Is, and I’ve actually got some of my favorite directors asking for me to read for their films. And with Elvis coming out, despite how it makes me sound like a complete dick, things are changing for me and I want people I can trust around me. You know, people who won’t come around for the wrong reasons or with bad intentions. When Lydia told me she’d help me find someone new all I could think about was offering it to you. I’ve got James, Kate, and people I trust around me and I wanna keep that going. I trust you. And I already know you’re damn good at your job.”

The betrayal that has simmered beneath her skin for six years - a betrayal from a friend and former employer, a betrayal that Isabela had forced herself to forgive without apologies being exchanged for her own emotional health - she feels the betrayal awaken in her chest as if it’s the day of again. She didn’t need anyone to plead for forgiveness and she didn’t need to be fought for but she always hoped that if a thought from him was spared for her it was because of more than him needing her for a job. A job he was only offering because he was big and famous and people were out to use him now.

Did Austin wake up and think, “hey, she was humiliated and treated like shit in my backyard and never spilled the beans to any tabloid so I must be able to trust her?”

Isabela reminds herself to take a deep breath. Austin was many things but he was never selfish or inconsiderate of others. His mom and sister would have never allowed it. Isabela had to come to terms with the fact that a moment of great disappointment and disloyalty in her life didn’t create an impact in his life. He hadn’t spent three days crying in bed afterwards or had a hard time getting hired for months after because gossip had made the rounds. Nope. The humiliation, sadness, and shame was left for her.

“I, um,” she knows that anyone else would have a lot to say. She wishes she had the guts to do the same but she doesn’t want to engage in an argument or have him give a meaningless apology. She doesn’t want him to know how much she still cares when he obviously had moved past it. “I’m taking a year off. Gonna take some time to travel and all that, but thank you. For thinking of me and offering.” She hopes her eyes aren’t brimming with tears because they sure are currently burning.

Austin looks disappointed and she wonders why he’d be anything but aware of the fact that she wouldn’t want to work with him again. Do they remember the day differently or something? She doesn’t have the gall to say any of that and she bites her lip to stop herself from easing any discomfort between them so the awkward silence grows between them before Austin moves to break it.

“Let me take your number down, at least,” he says as he reaches into his back pocket to pull his sleek black iPhone out and hand it to her. She takes it, noticing no phone case on and she cringes because her phone wouldn’t survive a day. “In case you come back from vacation early.” There’s a teasing lilt in his tone and she offers a small smile as she inputs her number for him, “Or just so we could catch up. You’ve been missed.”

There’s that eye roll again and it makes his stupidly handsome grin immediately return. For her part, she offers another small smile and wave as she heads down the pathway, “until next time, then,” she replies and when she turns she takes a deep breath to disperse the tightness in her throat. Although it’s unlikely, she wishes the next time is never because she wouldn’t survive another experience.

[beevean]

I need to shrink this down, or I'll never be done.

Have some more tragic Isaactor + Hector angsting.

~

Isaac’s jealousy was a boulder chained to Hector’s ankle that he was forced to drag uphill: heavy, impossible to discard, and completely unwarranted.

It didn’t take long for him to long to get rid of it.

All gentle words had long dried up. Nothing he had ever said mattered. Hector had learned to respond to his friend’s scathing glares in kind, too exhausted to feel sorry for his mistakes.

It was not Hector’s fault Isaac could not keep up. Perhaps had he listened more to his advice and had he not attempted to bite more than he could chew, Lord Dracula would give him more than the faintest of acknowledgments, what a General like them deserved. He had no one else to blame but himself for his cocksureness.

No, words didn’t work with Isaac. They were not what Hector was good for.

Their encounters in the shadows of the castle, once a childish game to hide from their adult responsibilities, had become as much of an obligation as replenishing their armies, a chore to do to keep Isaac at bay: he could no longer hope for anything more.

(What would have happened if one day Hector walked away? The question dared to spring out of him, impossible to answer and impossible to squash.)

Isaac had been forbidden by Lord Dracula from leaving bruises on Hector, which only fanned the flames of his frustration, yet his touches lingered like a film on him; and Hector delighted in painting Isaac’s skin red and purple with his fingerprints, yet Isaac drifted further and further away from him, leaving the rotten taste of bile in Hector’s mouth.

And when Isaac descended on him like a vulture, nails digging through the front of his breeches and kissing with sick devotion the scars left by Lord Dracula, Hector could only wonder.

Why was he incurring in Isaac’s wrath in the first place?

He was General Hector, elite Devil Forgemaster worthy of standing at the side of Death, who had mastered the blasphemous art of channeling the very lymph of Hell. He was imbued with the Dark Lord’s raw essence, surpassing the fetters of his own nature. With his hands alone, he commanded power unfathomable to the average human: life flowed through his body, to be shaped at his will.

With that power, he only killed.

The stronger his armor reeked of blood and guts, the more his Lord beamed with a pride that he did not deserve. The more his body and mind fell apart, the more he drowned in praises that fell through his fingers like ashes. He used the secrets of alchemy to craft weapons so refined that mere humans could only dream of them, and he plunged them in the guts of widows and orphans who had no longer the will to plead. He spent time chipping away at stone, cutting with precision the scales and feathers, infusing his creations with pieces of his very soul, and then he’d send his own innocent children to slaughter children – and how horrid it was, that their love was but a mere mockery, an alchemical mimicry that forced a bond between creature and master, trapping them in a life they could not comprehend.

Was that power?

It was nothing like what Hector had imagined, the day he knelt at Lord Dracula’s feet. The euphoria of the first day he had brought his own Fairy to life was all but a murky memory, replaced by a dull, jagged dread.

Wherever he went, flames would dance in his wake, devouring all life in their path, like he had never fled to find safety all those years ago, and he was still the crying boy heeding the words of demons.

There was nothing to be proud of, in having become a mindless force of destruction.

If you have a good weapon, you use it, don’t you?

That was the creed Isaac lived for, brushing off any kind of concern before they could even rise out of Hector’s throat; the crest scarring his back almost shone brighter at his words.

Was Hector a good weapon?

Was he only worth something in Lord Dracula’s eyes not because of his strength, or intellect, or courage, but because he was an exceptionally sharp sword?

After all he did to seek power, to prove to the world that he was more than a weak unwanted child to be beaten, after he rose higher than anyone else in the world... was he really all that different from the lowly peasants who couldn’t stop the death of one woman, and were being slaughtered like cattle at the will of a mad Lord?

How dare Isaac even burden him with his envy, when Hector had never felt so worthless in his life?

(But deep down in his heart, when the night grew still and their life melted away, Hector knew the only reason he still welcomed Isaac in his arms: it was the few seconds after they both finished dragging pain and pleasure out of each other, when Isaac rested his head on Hector’s shoulder, arms wrapped around his neck and face buried from the rest of the world, needing air and needing his friend.

And if Hector closed his eyes, he could lose himself in the illusion that Isaac didn’t hate him anymore, and he was once again a person.)

[rampanttheories]

An Alternative to Blood Based Protection

...because Lily’s Sacrifice-Protection relying on biological relation in a story about escaping to a magical world and finding a home there is narratively WRONG.

Let’s instead posit that it is based a) on Harry’s assignment of the term “home” and b) how well loved and protected he is there. But how would that impact how the story works? For a good chunk of the books, surprisingly little actually. It could also explain some phenomena we see in regards to the Protection (i.e. burning Quirrelmort, but not the Diary).

pre-Hogwarts:

Harry calls Privet Drive home out of a lack of alternatives

Petunia has complicated feelings for her sister and her nephew. They do contain a touch of love, but just not enough to outweigh everything else

ergo: Protection present and surviving but so very veeeeery weak

that’s why it can’t do anything against the part of Tom Riddle hotglued to Harry’s soul despite Vault-of-mould being the designated ENEMY#1 for the Protection

First Year:

Harry latches onto Hogwarts fast and hard, but it’s not really his because it belongs to every child in the magical world

so “home” is split between Hogwarts and Privet Drive

Ron and Hermione’s selfless friendship weighs in and in combination with Hogwarts’ semi-status, the Protection can burn Quirrel

not without damage to Harry though (the attempt to burn the hurcrux

Second Year:

Hogwarts’ student population turns against Harry and Hermione in particular is threatened

so Hogwarts is essentially catapulted out of the “home” category

the Protection can’t do anything against the Diary (despite it taking Harry’s consciousness to an old memory, which BLOODY HELL)

Third and fourth Year:

nothing much changes

Harry has five glorious minutes of hope for a new home, but then Sirius’ innocence gets denied again and there goes that escape

the Protection is powerless against Pettigrew taking blood from Harry and has to abandon those precious drops. It can either stick to the drops OR Harry and that’s just not a choice

but that’s semi-alright, the twin wand cores come through for Harry

So up to the summer before fifth year, most everything stays the same. The Protection is extremely weak at this point and that’s part of why the dementors can so easily locate and attack Harry.

Harry gets picked up from Privet Drive and brought to Grimmauld Place. And there he finally gets to hug Sirius. And maybe, just maybe, in the moment Sirius hugs him back does he think “So this is what coming home feels like”.

Because home doesn’t have to be a place. Home can just as well be a person. And Sirius had expressed his desire to give Harry both a place to stay in which he is wanted and a person to do the wanting. Not only Harry close, but also safe and healthy and happy. And he had followed that up for over a year of letters and firecalls and a willing ear and good advice despite the mortal danger he faced to do so.

So in that moment Sirius irrefutably becomes Harry’s home. AND BOY HOWDY DOES HE LOVE AND CARE FOR HIM.

Lily’s Protection goes from barely warm ashes to raging fiendfyre in a heartbeat. Which is atrocious news for the horcrux nestled next to Harry’s soul. It is ENEMY#1 and Right There.

Harry feels a short twinge and then like he just dropped a Quaffle he’d been lugging around behind his eyes.

[santoschristos]

The Legend of Radha-Krishna

The Legend Young Krishna is known to be very playful and mischievous. The story goes that as a child, Krishna was extremely jealous of Radha's fair complexion since he himself was very dark.

One day, Krishna complained to his mother Yashoda about the injustice of nature which made Radha so fair and he so dark. To pacify the crying young Krishna, the doting mother asked him to go and colour Radha's face in whichever colour he wanted.

In a mischievous mood, naughty Krishna heeded the advice of mother Yashoda and applied colour on her beloved Radha's face; Making her one like himself.

Well, there is also a legend to explain Krishna's dark complexion. It so happened that once a demon attempted to kill infant Krishna by giving him poisoned milk. Because of which Krishna turned blue. But Krishna did not die and the demon shriveled up into ashes.

The beautiful scene of Krishna's prank in which he played colour with Radha and other gopis has been made alive in myriad forms in a number of paintings and murals.

The Celebrations Somehow, the lovable prank of Krishna where he applied colour on Radha and other gopis using water jets called pichkaris gained acceptance and popularity. So much so that it evolved as a tradition and later, a full-fledged festival. Till date, use of colours and pichkaris is rampant in Holi. Lovers long to apply colour on their beloveds face and express their affection for each other.

This legend is wonderfully brought alive each year all over India, particularly in Mathura, Vrindavan, Barsana and Nandgaon-the places associated with Krishna and Radha.

In fact, the entire country gets drenched in the colour waters when it is time for Holi and celebrate the immortal love of Krishna and Radha.

In some states of India, there is also a tradition to place the idols of Radha and Krishna in a decorated palanquin, which is then carried along the main streets of the city. All this while, devotees chant Krishna's name, sing devotional hymns and dance in the name of the lord.

Radha-Krishna Image artist: Mahaboka

[children-of-epiales]

3 Quizzes In 1

Tagged  by @poisonedtruth!

Quiz 1- what kind of touch does your oc possess?

Quiz 2- which uniquely human interaction is your oc?

Quiz 3- what color does your ship feel like?

Fury

1) lingering touch

 you are home. you are the feeling of lasting peacefulness. it resonates in your bones and stabilizes your surroundings. you like routine and the familiarity of things. it brings you satisfaction to have a grounded life. you want to build something you're proud of and share the benefits with your loved ones. you are the glue of your friends and family and essential to the functioning of the group. others admire your responsibility and how they can rely on you for anything. you are amazing.

3) warm burnt orange

 Riding off into the sunset, the hope of a happy ending, the bitter after taste that still in it's own way smells kinda great. Your love is all bitter hopefulness, all about a broken heart that refuses to quit, all about the unshakable knowledge that a burning fire has a great comforting warm and a soft glowing light, all about the way when the sun comes down there's a beautiful starry night. It's stubbornness, it's the refusal to give up, the clutching of broken shards despite the searing pain and being adamant that dammit you can still make a beautiful stained glass window out of it. Yours is a screaming heart, a pleading love, a bitter and almost belligerent hopefulness that things will still work out even if you have to roll up your sleeves and make them. And god, aren't you tired? Isn't your heart heavy? Is all your hard work worth it? Don't you just want to curl up and let it be? Let the fire turn to ashes and the sky turn dark and let love die down and watch people leave? But you don't, do you? You're the bravest out of all of us, so you pick up the pieces and you keep going, you keep believing and you keep your heart full of hope because some day. Some day you know you'll get it. You keep riding off into the sunset and you keep filling my heart with hope as you go because god, how do I wish you finally get it too.

Plague

1) powerful touch

you leave me breathless. you are someone that is destined to do great things. everything you do is with a purpose and dedication. you are a powerful presence that leaves their mark on the world. focused, confident, and striking is how others would describe you. others come to you for trustworthy advice and honest opinions. you have few that you consider close and whom you will open up to. you often push down your emotions and put up a strong persona because you are scared of vulnerability. you protect others hard and your heart harder. i love you, bad bitch.

3) deep staining red

Ripped out confessions, warm velvety whispers and a heart like an open wound. Your love flows out like dripping blood, beautiful, flawed and twisted. It's gut wrenching, the type of painfully dramatic feeling that makes you clutch your chest, picturing dramatic monologues about love and loving and big screen over the top scenes of sobbing into your pillow until you fall asleep. It rips out of you, clawing it's way up your throat more so than tumbling out. Sticky words that just need to be let out, feelings so big they don't fit inside you. Your love isn't easy, it's a true bloody mess, dripping and staining everything it touches in a desperate attempt to be seen, to be felt, to be loved back. And you, you love so hard, so deeply, so much for someone who carries all that pain. Atlas holding up the world, how are you? Is your love still flowing? Is your heart still open? Still pumping and bleeding and dripping with blood and tears? Still painting your beautiful pictures and writing your love letters in deeply personal red ink? Because I see them, I read them, I love them and you, you, you, you. Clench your chest, scream your love, cry it out. Spill your words of loving, keep your heart beating, keep your love coming and paint the entire world red with it. Make it in your image, keep going, it's okay. Maybe one day the whole world can be red and loved and beautiful just like you.

Ship: FuryxPlague (Rainbow Six Siege)

2) compliments from a stranger

 every person has their own taste and every person's taste overlaps with someone else's. you are those overlaps. you are saying "i have made the world better just by existing in it for another day" you are every kind word that has been spoken into the world. you are smiles shared with strangers on the train. you are spreading good into the world

[pokeheros-drama]

dont hate me for this, but i kinda feel bad for gilded ash. here's how i see it: they're playing an online game, and they wanted to make some money/be cool by being a good artist. but they can't draw. so, they decided to take the easy route of using ai to do art instead. they were probably just happy "their art" is good. but then it was revealed that they used ai to do art, and artists who actually worked for their skills didnt like that (and they're justified in this) for two main reasons. 1. ai art isnt seen as real and original art since it uses art from other artists instead. its pretty much tracing. 2. they feel ai growing is inevitable which is going to cause real art to become less popular, and real artists are going to lose their job. so all of these artists are suddenly on top of them, telling them (nicely) that ai art isnt real, and telling them to practice actual art so their skills grow instead. here's the problem. no matter how nicely you say it, a ton of people telling a kid they did something wrong isnt exactly going to help the kid learn. here's what most likely is going to happen because of this in my opinion:

1. gilded ash is gonna feel sad that most of the ph community is dissapointed in them. (a good portion of the trending feeds were related to them) they got so much hate, and they're saying they're going to leave, but lets be honest here how long are they going to really stay away from such an addicting game? they're going to come back and stay in the shadows hoping the dissapointment slowly fades

2. they'll probably attempt to learn how to actually draw, but then once again become dissapointed with the outcome. my guess is they'll go somewhere else and start using ai art again. 

3. in a few years, they'll mature and realize, woah i was in the wrong there! but this would've happened even without half of ph getting riled up about this. because honestly, how long is a kid using ai to make art going to last? either they'll get bored of it and quit online game sites and stuff, or they'll grow and realize they shouldn't be doing this. if a kid is actually drawing, then they'll get better over time and keep at it, hoping to get even better. there's not much to improve with ai art, so there's not much encouragement to keep you going. all of this happening is unnecessary, it's really helping them to stop using ai art any sooner.

sooo here's what im trying to say: yes, the artists are trying to help them, not make them feel bad. but you have to put yourself in their shoes. kids aren't going to change just because a ton of people are nicely asking them to. they'll feel pressured, sad, and upset instead. a kid wants love, not hate and dissapointment. they made a mistake but a ton of people coming at them isnt going to fix that mistake. think: if i was a 12 year old (give or take) what would help me to actually change? lets be honest its not a ton of people (mostly adults) trying to give you advice "nicely" over a browser game.

sorry for super long post just wanted to share my thoughts. plz dont hate me for this!

[findinginga]

A Fateful Choice...

...that could not be undone

The title of this entry was actually adapted from a 2008 publication by Ian Kershaw, "Fateful Choices: Ten Decisions That Changed the World, 1940-1941". This well written historical review of critical WWII decision-making highlights some of the major events that took place shaping the course of the war. Of course, I do not wish to equate any of my decisions with the more weighty choices made sparking a world-wide conflict. However, in the moment I failed to see the significance of my choice and as many who have gone before me, I learned that there was a price to be paid for my miscalculation.

As I pulled together my thoughts, I could not help but think of Philip Marlowe again and one of my favorite movies, "The Big Sleep". I have viewed it scores of times over the years and the witty dialogue still amuses me. In particular Marlowe, in his self-deprecating style, recognizes his own shortcomings. While trying to sort out the tangle of a case which has failed to demonstrate any logic, Marlowe goes on a fishing expedition. "The smart thing for me to do was to take another drink and forget the whole mess. That being the obviously smart thing to do, I called Eddie Mars and told him I was coming down to Las Olindas that evening to talk to him. That was how smart I was.”

Well, let us just consider that I had received a detailed report from an investigator validating my intuition that something was amiss. That little voice telling me to run was spot on correct. Like Marlowe, the smart thing was to have a drink or two or three and forget I had ever clicked on the link taking me to Inga. I failed to heed my own advice and then decided to douse the smoldering ashes of what I thought was a relationship with gasoline. That was how smart I was!

All of those unanswered questions I had posed to myself before were ricocheting in my my mind. Sure, I could have simply accepted that Ingeborga was running a scam. It may have been her husband was a ringleader and the two of them conspired to lure men from dating websites in an attempt to extract whatever they could in money, gifts or trips. But that would have been too easy and I was still trying to figure it out. After all, I was not in too deeply in regards to the outlay of money. I did purchase gifts for Inga and Eva and I did take the time to box them and ship them off to Russia. The greater investment I had made was one of trust and that had already been broken. I managed to convince myself that I was now in control of the matter. I could "pull the plug" on it all anytime that I needed.

It was after giving all of that consideration I decided to strike a conciliatory note with Inga. I reasoned that if I demonstrated a modicum of forgiveness and encourage her to be more transparent in terms of her feelings and history, Inga might gain the security she needed to forego the reflexive lies and be more candid.

That was the plan at least.  

[blueheartedmayor]

I just.. sadly don't really have any roleplay partners. I have my best friend, who only rps with me and her friend, sometimes an OC blog when they're active, and well, you now and then. Everyone I used to rp with isn't on tumblr anymore or something else, since it's been years since their blogs were last active. I feel like i'm not doing anything but sit here, since i cant find anyone. i dont know any ego blogs but yours actually, and i really miss writing my muse normally

and while i do love writing a lot! i just.. have so little motivation anymore, and absolutely NO ideas. i dont know what to write for drabbles or oneshots or stuff, and general ideas like "blubb au" is too broad for me to come up with with an idea. roleplay is easier because im not the only one being creative and giving ideas. and i cant really ask for writing prompts if no one is around to send them either :')

(Sorry! I was having dinner when you sent these!)

OOC: If I may be blunt for a moment. By saying you ‘don’t have any roleplay partners’, then list a few, you’re actually dismissing those you write with. By definition, that’s precisely what a roleplay partner is. I know you’re likely comparing things to how they used to be (easy to do these days), but I think everyone is in the middle of accepting things aren’t the way they used to be. People have jobs, IRL commitments, other hobbies, without even mentioning the giant stress that is the world as we know it right now. And that’s okay. Like I said, it’s better to appreciate those you do have. While things may not be as active as you’re used to, it’s still a starting point.

When I find myself in a rut like that, I look at the ask memes I’ve reblogged and see if any of them work as a starting point - whether as a sentence starter, or a line to include in a little piece of writing. I personally wouldn’t recommend relying on others for a writing prompt. My writing blog, for instance, never gets prompts sent in any more (which is fair! I don’t engage in the community and thus no one engages with me. It’s an unfair expectation to put on people when I do nothing to earn it). It doesn’t need to be a brand new AU. It could be something simple. You could even explore some headcanons. Things like any certain routines they have, a place they like to visit, or an item that means a lot to them can be good starting points for musings. I find, especially with Y.ancy, that doing my research brings ideas I can drabble or muse on. Maybe you could do some research into the job your muse does, or a hobby? I have seen a blog on my dash reblog from this prompt account and give some answers in tags, or make a new post with a reference link to the question so they can expand on it without clogging notifications on the other blog.

Finally... I do write with a handful of ego blogs (and mine are linked on my main blog - @dreamingofmuses ). However, I’m not going to tag any since I don’t know their stance on accepting new partners and it wouldn’t be fair to put them on the spot. However, if any of them are looking for new partners, maybe they could like this post as an expression of interest for you to check out at a later point? (Assuming time zones work in my favour and people see this)

[sargeant-bxrnes]

1 step forward, 3 steps back.

warnings: rafe being… rafe. drug mention & consumption, cursing, toxic relationship, sexual situations/implications, mental health issues. ANGST.

[AN: this is the first thing i’ve written, ever, so my apologies if it’s not flawless ; also, english is not my first language, that’s a warning on its own]

my requests are open btw

click for my master list

word count: 4.4K

Called you on the phone today

Just to ask you how you were

All I did was speak normally

Somehow I still struck a nerve

“Hey,” you said in a soft tone as soon as Rafe picked up the phone, you were laying down on your bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Hey princess,” his tone was calm, but his voice was rough and raspy all together.

“How you doing?” you asked him, even though you’d seen him last night, up close.

“I’m doing great,” he replied in a surprisingly cheerful tone, which is weird this early in the morning. Rafe is not a morning person. “You sound tired.”

“I am tired,” you confirmed with a sigh. “Guess I have you to thank for that.”

“My pleasure.” he replied cockily, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could practically hear his proud smirk.

“So, what’s the plan today?” you asked in a casual tone, fidgeting with the edge of Rafe’s shirt, the one you wore to sleep.

“Uh, what do you mean?” he asked in a distracted tone, he sniffed subtly and coughed.

You knew what that meant, but still, you hoped it wasn’t what you deep down knew it was.

“Yeah, I mean—“ you said and made a brief pause. “Wanna go to the club? Maybe we can take a ride on the boat, you know, with food, alcohol... just us.”

“Can’t, I’m busy.” he said after a few seconds, if you didn’t know him better and his occasional mood swings, you would’ve said his tone was harsh.

"Really?" you asked in a soft tone, trying to disguise your disappointment with interest. "But I thought we were going out together today."

"Y/N, just because I'm your boyfriend it doesn't mean I have to be with you all the fucking time."

Okay, now he was definitely angry, you thought you said the right thing, but it still made him angry.

"Rafe-"

"No, Y/N. I have a life of my own, you know? Things to do besides you."

“That’s okay Rafe, I get it,” You said calmly, nodding your head softly. “Have fun today.”

Now you clearly heard the sound of him sniffing something and the sigh that left his lips after, and Barry’s voice in the background. “Don’t play the victim card on me, that’s not gonna work. I deserve to have some time off.”

“I didn’t,” you said softly. “And it’s okay baby, you’re right, you deserve to have some fun.”

“See? No need to be so fucking dramatic,” he said, his voice and words slurring. You? Dramatic? It was all him. “But don’t worry princess, I’ll drop by tonight and fuck the attitude out of you, yeah? That way I’m not just doing things with you, I’m doing you.”

And with such a vulgar comment and a harsh tone, Rafe hung up on you, leaving you completely dumbfounded and filled with incredulity.

What you did know for a fact, is that he would keep up his word. And judging by his tone of voice and how annoyed he was, you could already imagine the ache between your legs.

You got me fucked up in the head, boy

Never doubted myself so much

Like, am I pretty? Am I fun, boy?

I hate that I give you power over that kind of stuff

You knew exactly what you were getting into when you started hooking up with Rafe, and what you were committing to when you agreed to be his girlfriend.

You know that man carries more problems than he shows, he prefers to make himself appear as the Kook prince who lives a life of partying and money; hiding all the things that were going on in his head.

However, there were times when his attitude made you doubt yourself.

You couldn't help but think, ‘What if one day I don't manage to calm him down?’ ‘What if one day he realizes that there is someone prettier, or hotter, or wealthier out there?’

And Rafe would get angry if you doubted yourself. He would complain to you about it, saying you had no reason to be insecure about your looks; if you are absolutely gorgeous, or to feel insecure about your personality; if you were the most genuine person he'd ever met, and you could make him laugh until he forgot all his problems.

But what really made him furious was when you had doubts about the relationship itself, about whether or not he was capable of leaving you for someone else. He took those doubts personally, as if he wasn't trying hard enough to show you how much you mean to him.

When in reality; you were doubting yourself.

'Cause it's always one step forward

You were preparing dinner for you and Rafe, your family was out for the weekend, and Rafe had decided to spend it with you.

Your hair was tied up in a bun, your attire consisted of nothing but your underwear and a shirt that used to be Rafe's, but you took it so long ago that it's yours now.

Music from your shared playlist played in the background, as you danced absentmindedly with a spatula in hand, extremely calm and enjoying time with your boyfriend.

Rafe could do nothing but stare at you with admiration, you are literally the only good thing in his life; his little piece of heaven. You are everything to him.

As soon as Dark Red by Steve Lacy started playing, you let out an excited gasp. That song in particular is Rafe’s and yours, like… if you two had to choose a song to describe your relationship, it would be that one. It represented how you two did not always have good times, but your love prevailed.

Seeing you this happy, comfortable and at ease with him made Rafe's soul happy. All his life, he had done nothing else besides make people angry, disappointed, terrified. But with you, everything was different.

You were so focused on swaying your hips to the music and singing, that you didn't notice when Rafe stood up and walked over to where you were.

It wasn't until he stood behind you, chest to back and with his hands on your hips, that you realized he was closer. His head was bowed, you could feel his breathing close to your ear, so he was able to murmur in your ear the lyrics of the song:

“Only you, my girl, only you, babe,” he sang in your ear, his voice a soft whisper as he wrapped his arms around your body and started to sway with you. “Only you, darling, only you, babe.”

The gesture quickened your heart to unsuspected levels, you felt your knees weaken as you pressed closer to his body, appreciating his closeness as he pressed a kiss against your temple.

“You know I love you so much, right?” he mumbled in your ear, as you closed your eyes and relished his presence.

“I love you too, baby.”  you mumbled back, leaning your head against his chest, caressing one of his arms around your waist with your fingertips, and bringing your hand to his ash blond hair, stroking it softly.

and three steps back

“Why is he mad at you, again?” Topper asked you with a raised eyebrow, after witnessing Rafe utterly avoiding even looking at you when he walked into the room and then left without a word.

“Because I told Barry to not open the door if Rafe dropped by,” You replied with a shrug, closing your eyes and leaning back against the chair. “And when Rafe tried to lash out on him, Barry said it all had been ‘Mrs.Country Club’s’ request.”

“And he’s mad at you because you don’t want him to get all fucked up?” Topper questioned next, trying to understand the situation. But he never knew what the fuck you two were up to.

“Yes, but it’s Rafe, are you surprised?” you said with a heavy sigh.

“No, not really,” Topper admitted. “Honestly, I don’t know why you keep up with him, Y/N.”

“I ask myself that all the time…” you said with a deep sigh. “But I love him, so I guess that’s the answer.”

“And? I mean, I don’t want to be ‘that guy’ Y/N, but he’s…” Topper trailed off, apparently looking for the right word.

“I know exactly how he is, Topper, I don’t need you to remind me. I already think about that way too much.”

You and Topper had easily assumed that Rafe was no longer around, since he seemed to be making his best efforts to avoid you.

But Rafe was there, and he heard everything. He’d heard Topper giving you bad advice (or what he considered bad advice) And he heard you, having doubts about why you loved him or stood by him at all,and it made him want to lash out again.

I'm the love of your life until I make you mad

It's always one step forward and three steps back

Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy, I don't understand

No, I don't understand

[+18. Really]

“Leave me alone!” his voice boomed in the room, his brows furrowed and the veins in his neck were popping out.

“Rafe—“ you tried once again, approaching slowly in an attempt to place a hand on his shoulder, but he waved it away aggressively.

“Leave-me-alone,” he said, pausing in between each word to emphasize on how much he meant it. His eyes were bloodshot, his nose had specks of white dust, his lips were dry and his voice was coarse.

You weren’t entirely sure what you could say to get him to calm down. Or if there was anything at all you could do.

Normally, what upsets him the most is Ward. His own father. Rafe has spent his whole life trying to prove he's a good son, to make his father proud, and Ward never appreciates his efforts, only notices the bad, and ignores Rafe's clear calls for help, has since Rafe was 10 years old, so he certainly wasn't going to pay attention to him now that Rafe finally had a steady girlfriend, someone who had willingly decided to help.

95% of the time, you managed to talk to Rafe before he decided to resort to intoxication. Most of the time just seeing you helped him calm down, hearing your voice soothed him, and your lips, your skin, put him in a state of peace.

But the other 5% is when Rafe resorted to alcohol and, above all, drugs.

When Rafe is upset and decides to get high, he only manages to become unstable, erratic and yes, aggressive if not handled with care.

In those situations, the best thing you can do, putting yourself first, is to give him his space. Let him screw himself as much as he wants for that day, and help him deal with the consequences the next day, while you listen to him lament his attitude.

Rafe always said he would quit the vice; claiming you were all he needed to calm himself down, that you made him feel at peace. And above all, that you weren't slowly killing him; on the contrary, every minute he spent with you made him feel more alive.

However, for one reason or another, he always came back to it. Whether it was at a party, because Kelce suggested it, or, as is almost always the case, when he's upset with his father and needs quick relief.

And usually, this ‘quick relief’ ends up with Rafe fucked up, big time.

Once he was convinced that you wouldn't try to intervene again, Rafe went back to his business. He turned to the table, and since he already had the line ready, he simply leaned over and inhaled it, throwing his head back, running his hand through his hair and exhaling as he closed his eyes.

You exhaled heavily, shaking your head as you stared at your feet.  You knew he would struggle to quit, after all it is an addiction and he has to fight it, but sometimes you get the impression that Rafe doesn't want to quit, not really.

"Do you want to help me?" asked Rafe eventually, turning his head to look at you. You didn't know if it was a trick question or not, so you hesitated before answering. "Answer me."

"Yes, of course I want to, Rafe." you replied with your respective hesitations, wondering what he was up to.

"Come here then," he said, making a 'come hither’ sign with his fingers.

You took a hesitant step but stopped, your eyes narrowing as you analyzed Rafe, trying to determine his intentions.

He raised both eyebrows in your direction, in a silent question of whether or not you're going to go with him.

Eventually you walked over to where Rafe was, he smiled at you while biting his lip lightly. Without saying anything he approached you and kissed you; the drugs made his senses heighten, so the kiss was intense from the beginning.

So that's when it made sense to you what he wanted, he wanted you. Your most obvious thought is that he would use you to take out your frustration, put the drugs aside and, most likely, fuck you.

Your idea seemed to be the right one as soon as Rafe grabbed you by the waist, still with his lips on yours, left a little bite on your lip before pulling away; and without any problem, lifted you off the floor and placed you on the table.

It's something you wouldn't admit out loud,—mostly out of shame and guilt,—but this kind of sex with Rafe was the best, he's completely unrestrained, rough, full of stamina and teasing, and above all, possessive. And that, in combination with his attractiveness, always drove you crazy.

And honestly; if what he wanted was to fuck you to take out his frustration, you'd let him.

His kisses were hungry and his hands desperate, running all over your body without distinction, as if he didn't know where to start.

He parted his lips from yours, and left a kiss at the corner of them, on your jaw; and began to make a little trail of slow kisses down your neck. The feeling of his lips on your neck made you bite your lip as you wrapped your legs around his waist to feel him closer.

You slid your hand under his shirt, caressing his defined abs and the sides of his body gently with the tips of your fingers, as he left little bites on your neck. Your hands slowly moved up, intending to remove his shirt, but Rafe was quicker and brought his hands to the edge of your shirt, causing you to stop your movements to raise your arms, so he could remove your shirt with ease. And so he did.

He parted his lips from your neck and stared at you, the hunger in his eyes made you feel a fire in the pit of your stomach that only he could put out.

Desperately, your lips connected again as he settled between your legs. One of his hands traveled to your neck, and he wrapped his fingers around it, pressing lightly to the sides. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head; though he couldn't see it.

With just enough strength, Rafe used the grip he had on your neck to push you down onto the table, so that you were lying on top of it.

As soon as he leaned over the table, you could feel his breath over abdomen, so you bit your lip in anticipation for what was to come.

He began to leave slow, wet kisses on your abdomen, making a slow trail to the edge of your shorts. Your automatic reaction was to close your eyes and put a hand in his hair, stroking it gently.

What you didn’t know is that the fact that you closed your eyes had given Rafe an opportunity he couldn't miss. Without you noticing, he slid a hand to the side of the table, where the small bag of white powder was.

To conceal his actions, he unbuttoned your shorts, and returned his lips to the beginning of your abdomen for more time.

The little bite he left to distract your attention caused a gasp to escape your lips; and that sound almost caused him to change plans completely.

He did want to fuck you, don’t get him wrong. He even had a mental debate about whether to continue what he was doing or simply sink his head between your thighs and provoke more sounds like that.

But he wanted to try something first. He had always wanted to try it, but had never asked you, because he knew that you would most likely say no.

With ease, he slid your shorts down your legs; so that they stayed at your ankles or fell to the floor; he didn't care. One of his hands slid into your underwear with ease, his fingers going straight to where he knew you needed him the most.

Trusting that you would not open your eyes, carefully, he put the white substance on your body, so delicately you didn’t notice. He began to prepare to inhale, while biting his lip in reaction to the sinful sounds that left your lips.

And obviously, without warning, Rafe inhaled a line from your thigh.

And all your sounds stopped, your eyes opened and your expression was filled with surprise, the bad kind.

You couldn't believe what Rafe had just done, you felt like an idiot for falling into the trap.

You also had to bite your lip to keep from letting out a moan in reaction to what his fingers were doing in between your legs, but your pride forbade it.

But more than anything else, you were outraged.

“Rafe, you did not just—“

“It felt nice, yeah?” Rafe’s voice was hoarse, you could feel his breath over your skin, as he left little kisses around. “After all, I did feel you clench around my fingers.”

His dirty words, hoarse voice, and close proximity to your body, not to mention his fingers deep inside you, caused you to let out a soft moan, causing Rafe to smirk in what he thought was victory.

But you wouldn't let him win this little game.

Although you really didn't want to, you grabbed his hand by the wrist and pulled him away, your legs trembling slightly at the sudden lack of anything between them.

Rafe's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as soon as you pushed him away from you and got off the table, lifting your shorts off the floor and putting them back on without a word.

"What are you doing?"

You didn't answer, as you searched for  your shirt, feeling his heavy gaze on your body.

"Y/N, where do you think you're going?"

“I’m leaving you alone as you asked me to, remember?” you said in irony. “Before you sniffed a line off me after I begged you to quit that shit?”

“Oh, so now you’re playing the victim?” his voice rose. “Don't- Don’t act as if you wouldn’t have let me fuck you less than a minute ago!”

"Yes I would have let you, to distract you from that shit!" you admitted to him, failing to control your anger. "I said I wanted to help you, to distract you, to give you something different to do. Not that I'd give you another place to snort lines from!"

Rafe knew you were right, of course he did.

You had spent months after months trying to get him to quit, you had offered him countless hours of your days to give him something new to do, distractions, attention and love. And this is how he had decided to pay you back?

But Rafe was angry too, very. You had interrupted him, you were yelling at him; and you had left him so hard, that it would start to hurt unless he did something about it.

“Fine, then get the fuck out of here.” Rafe spat, his anger clearly getting the best of him.

Your eyes widened at that, you hadn't expected him to react like that.

Your best case scenario would be that your attitude would piss him off, yes, but that he would retaliate by getting you back to the table and showing you everything you were missing.

Instead, he simply took your word for it and told you to get out of the room.

“What?”

“You heard me, get out.”

“Rafe—“

“You uh, you have three options, yeah? You let me fuck you over that table and do whatever I want, you get out of here, or I’ll get you out of here.”

The first offer was tempting, it really was, but you wouldn’t allow him to talk to you like that. Before anything, came respect and dignity, and no matter how much you wanted him to fuck you silly, you were too angry and disappointed at him to let it slip.

Blinking repeatedly to chase away the tears from your eyes, you grabbed your phone from the other end of the table, your jacket from Rafe's bed, and walked out of there without another word as you heard him calling your name.

And maybe in some masochistic way

I kinda find it all exciting

Like, which lover will I get today?

Will you walk me to the door or send me home cryin'?

Your relationship with Rafe was unique.

Not because of the circumstances in which it was created. A one-night-stand that turned into something casual, that was formalized after a dinner.

If not for Rafe.

You loved him, no doubt about it. You would give anything to see him happy and at peace, at peace with himself and succeeding in his life.

Rafe would do anything for you, really, anything. No matter how risky, demanding or dangerous, he would do anything for you.

He would die and kill for you.

But that surely didn’t mean it was an easy relationship, hell no. In fact, the willingness both of you had to do anything for each other sometimes made things too complicated; for at times it seemed that not a single rational thought crossed your minds.

And yes, Rafe’s addiction was a big issue. Whenever he was too high, or going through withdrawals, he wasn’t the Rafe you knew or had grown to love, it was another side of him you wanted to help get rid off. And the process wasn’t easy.

While trying to get clean; there was no way to know how he’d behave. He could either get clingy and want you around at all times to calm himself down, or he’d be in a very bad mood all the time, constantly snapping at you and raising his voice.

So there were days where he’d walk you to the door of your house and leave you there with a tender kiss and a smile.

Or days when you’d get out of his truck without a word, with tears streaming down your cheeks while he kept yelling for probably the stupidest thing.

No, it's back and forth, did I say something wrong?

It's back and forth, goin' over everything I said

It's back and forth, did I do something wrong?

'It's back and forth, maybe this is all your fault

Rafe knew he wasn’t okay. After all, he had begged his father for help, begged for anything that would get those thoughts to stop, but his father hadn’t listened, had only told him to ‘man up.’

You knew he wasn’t okay. Which is why you wanted to help him, to offer the support no one else had bothered to give him before he met you.

Whether he wanted it or not, those thoughts were still there. Being with you made them easier to ignore, but it’s not like they vanished entirely. He still had some ideas that made his own skin crawl.

And sometimes, you’d say or do the wrong thing and trigger those thoughts. And things got bad again for him.

Rafe knew you wanted nothing but to help him get better and be the best version of himself, and he really wanted to give you that. To change and make an effort. Not only for himself but for you. He wanted to be a man worthy of your love.

But it was hard to be anywhere near decent when you two went out and a guy stared at you for longer than Rafe’s limits allowed, or when guys tried to hit on you, when his friends got a little bit too close for his comfort.

Whenever he got jealous, he turned into a walking, talking ticking bomb. Anything could, and would set him off.

It wasn’t your fault, not really, but most of the time you felt it was. You knew Rafe dealt with a lot of insecurities already, of not being a nice person, not being good enough and so many other things. And you hated being one of the factors that caused his insecurities to arise.

And I'd leave you, but the roller coaster is all I've ever had

It was a complicated relationship, and it would probably never stop being complicated because both of you are complex people, plus there are other factors that affect the relationship.

But that didn't mean either of you would stop fighting to keep it alive. Neither would let the other go.

Rafe utterly refused to ever let you go. He loved you as he had never loved anyone, as he never thought himself capable of loving with that twisted heart of his.

You are, without exception, the best thing in his life, the best thing that ever happened to him. And you being in his heart was slowly turning him into who he had wanted to be during all those years of loneliness.

And you would never let him go, because you loved him with all your heart, soul and nerve of your body. And because you know that no one will ever love you like him. With so much passion, intensity, honesty and purity.

Because every feeling Rafe expressed with you was true; he was himself with you. And you didn't want to let him go.

Even if the two of you went one step forward, and three steps back, that single step would be longer than any step life makes you take backwards.

[shuttershocky]

Shutters, any advice on stopping the sexy tank that is Degenbrecher in BI-8?

Right, so Degenbrecher is basically just Crownslayer but better in every way. She can't be silenced, she has two phases, she does tremendous physical damage and attempting to block her leads to an operator getting deleted where they stand. She does however, have one major weakness inherited from Crownslayer: her low defense. Any form of physical burst damage easily deals with her first phase.

Her second phase features invisibility and a disarm that disables both attacks and skills every time she loses 25 percent of her HP, which is the biggest challenge of the bossfight. Let's go over how to deal with these.

For her invisibility, Elysium, Scene, Tsukinogi, and her own boss Silverash all have true sight. Elysium is especially good, as his skill 2 both reveals Degenbrecher, slows her, and lowers her def even further while boosting Sniper ASPD, making her especially vulnerable to her biggest counter, Exusiai (the bane of all low DEF bosses).

Without true sight, you will be forced to block her to reveal her, which is incredibly risky as all melee tiles in her path is filled with ice tiles and she will annihilate most operators in one blow. Plus, you'll have to do it twice because of her dash.

As for the disarm, note that her disarm skill is a diamond shape around her with the longest range being 4 tiles. That means Marksman Snipers like Exusiai and Ash can actually beat into her without being disarmed, as long as they aren't attacking her from a straight line. What this means is, if Exusiai is attacking Degenbrecher, you'll want to be hitting her from the furthest left or right tile in her attack range, since if Degenbrecher is in the center, her disarm will reach. While that gives you only a single tile to work with, some slows and reliance on insane Marksman attack speed can deal with her whole phase 2. Elysium + Exusiai alone can take her on with the right positioning.

Skills that do not attack such as Suzuran's S3 or Elysium's S2 also aren't shutdown by her disarm (but you have to get it off before it activates), meaning you can also attempt to time your skills to control Degenbrecher and keep her from moving around too much.

Finally, you can also dodge the disarm with skills just like how people dodged The Emperor's Blade's black clouds. Guard Amiya S2 and Ch'en S3 are invincible from all attacks and effects during their slashing animation, which means you can simply buff their ATK, reveal Degenbrecher's invis, and then beat on her and ignore her disarms. With enough buffs on her and debuffs on the boss, Ch'en alone can burst the entirety of Phase 2 with a single S3. Amiya can too as well, though Degenbrecher's higher RES may give Amiya a harder time.

A special shoutout goes to Heavyrain, whose unique allied cloaking mechanic lets the whole team dodge the disarm. Simply time her AOE invisibility skill to go off right before the first disarm, and it will last long enough to burst Degenbrecher from full health. She will still activate the disarm, but it doesn't work on invisible units.

[todoscript]

SEQUEL TO  “don’t forget it”

SYNOPSIS: One week after accidentally blowing you off on your date, Bakugou Katsuki seeks your forgiveness.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

genre: fluff, very little angst

word count: 5.4k+

warnings: none really accept maybe a character sustaining an injury

author’s note: hellooooo this is a very very very late part 2 of my don’t forget it drabble that many people asked for! i hope this lived up to your expectations and was worth the wait!

Since the events that led you to leave Bakugou’s room in a fit of bitterness after attempting to penetrate that thick head of his, he hadn’t been able to speak to you for a week.

It goes without saying he did his best to chase you down the hallway from his room and toward the elevator the moment he realized his faults. But at the stink eye you shot him through the minimizing slit of the elevator doors sliding into place, he knew he had no right to reconcile with you after pulling a stunt like that. Nor did he think you’d want to spare him any more words to begin with. It was clear you were done arguing with him.

“C’mon man, it’s probably best to let her cool down before you try to make up with her,” was the advice Kirishima offered when Bakugou returned to his room, disgruntled as he heavily fell back into his seat next to the desk. He did the bare minimum to acknowledge his friend’s words with a grunt before resuming tutoring the redhead, his method of teaching suddenly harsher than how it began thanks to his soured mood. He lapsed the day away by pounding Kirishima with problems upon problems against that hard noggin of his, both literally and figuratively.

At the very least, Kirishima earned himself a passing grade on their exam as a result of his hard work and their rigorous tutoring sessions. But what followed Bakugou’s and your relationship was still undetermined.

Days later and you were relentless in giving him the cold shoulder.

Bakugou was met with nothing but empty glances and blatant disinterest whenever he crossed your path. It felt like the wall you slotted between him grew another layer at each encounter, your defenses so impenetrable, it could give Kirishima’s quirk a run for its money. He couldn’t so much as utter a word in your direction without you effectively dodging every possible interaction in favor of joining another conversation nearby.

At first, Bakugou shrugged it off, calling your “childish attitude” unwarranted for something he thought was incredibly trivial. In his eyes, it was just an ordinary date at some run-of-the-mill restaurant he just happened to suggest to you because he took a liking to their spicy food. Not like it was some fancy dinner reservation serving caviar on dry toast beside a pretty, city night skyline. To him, it was nothing special.

However, as the week continued to roll by, it became clear to him how much he hurt you due to his selfishness. In a hangout with the Bakusquad, he learned that you apparently told Mina, along with the rest of the girls, everything during one of your girls’ nights. Which included the events prior to your heated argument in Bakugou’s dorm. And Mina, being just as peeved as you were at how Bakugou stood you up that day, had to let the blond know of the damage he’d done.

.

.

“I swear, Bakugou Katsuki, I know you can be an asshole sometimes—”

“Make that all the time,” Sero quietly adds in the middle of Mina’s rant while he lounges backward on Kaminari’s bed. If it wasn’t for his current dilemma, Bakugou would have elbowed him in the back of the head.

“—but this is crossing the line!” she finishes. Her arms are thrown exaggeratedly over her chest. The amber surrounded by the black scleras of her eyes points a beady look at the ash-blond crisscrossed on the floor between Kirishima and Kaminari.

“Poor girl sat there for hours waiting for you, only to find out she got blown off because you couldn’t even properly check your reminders!” She paces back and forth in the room, feet excessively stepping across the floor as she’s engulfed by the emotions she feels for her friend. “What’s worse? She comes back and finds out you’ve been doing your own thing with Kirishima the whole time!”

“Hey! It’s not like we were playing around! We were actually having a very serious study grind, thank you very much,” the redhead immediately clarifies. Though his explanation doesn’t alleviate Bakugou’s case in the slightest, who pounds his palms against the surface of the table they’ve gathered around.

“Look. I fucking get it, Ashido. I screwed up, okay?! Now what the fuck do you want me to do about it?!” he exclaims, anger overpowering his voice, but it does little to deter Mina.

“Fix it, obviously!” she quips back with equal fierceness, leaning in eye level with Bakugou.

“And how do you propose I do that, Raccoon Eyes? Hah?” Repositioning his elbow to rest on the table, he leans his cheek against his hand. “Y/n won’t even let me within five fucking feet in front of her and you still expect me ‘fix this’?”

Despite the situation weighing heavily on his shoulders, no immediate answer is bestowed upon him. That is, except the obnoxiously loud crinkle of a chip bag popping open next to Bakugou that cleaves into the scene like a record scratch. As if unable to read the mood in his own room, Kaminari fishes a chip to throw in his mouth, stirring the awkward silence into tension.

“Wow, Bakugou. I know you’re bad with girls and all, but you really messed up this time,” he remarks. His voice is slightly muffled as he munches his chips, continuing to wrinkle the bag for more. It incites a vein to swell on Bakugou’s forehead. He amasses all the willpower within him not to blast the bag of chips to ash, and the boy alongside it.

“If you dunce faces are just gonna sit here and throw salt in my wound then I’m outta here.”

“No, wait!” Kirishima catches Bakugou’s wrist before he fully lifts himself off the floor. “Come on, Bakugou, I’m sure we can think of something! We just need to put our heads together! Right, guys?” he assures. Finding it hard to deny his friend’s hardened conviction, Bakugou gives Kirishima the benefit of the doubt, albeit with slumped shoulders and a tentative raise of his brow as he slowly sits back down.

“Right! Everyone, let’s get some brainstorming done!” Mina yells encouragingly.

The atmosphere of Kaminari’s room is consumed by moderately thoughtful silence for the next ensuing minutes. A few hums pass, followed by an exchange of contemplative looks as four of the five rack their heads together to uncover a solution. The one in need of help only hunches in his seat, waiting with mild disinterest.

“Oh hey, don’t we have hero training with All Might tomorrow?” Sero is the first to comment, scooting to the edge of the blond’s bed.

“Yeah. So?”

“He said we were going to work on group exercises this time around. You know, teamwork and stuff,” he explains further.

At that, Mina snaps her fingers, the work of a brilliant idea flickering in her head. “Sero, that’s it! Tomorrow, during training, we’ll just form a group together with Y/n! After all, she’ll have to talk to Bakugou if you two are on the same team!” She claps her hands in front of her, her enthusiasm rippling through her body and shown energetically with each raise of her voice. “Then, while the rest of us ‘split up’ to cover more ground, that will be your chance to make everything better with Y/n! It’s genius!”

“You missed one fucking crucial detail, Pinky,” Bakugou gruffs. “That will only work if Y/n doesn’t join another group. The moment she sees I’m on yours, she’s not even going to hesitate making a u-turn.”

“Worry not~ I’ll just text all the girls except Y/n about the plan later and ask them to help sort everyone out!” She solves the problem with relative ease—quick as a click of her phone lighting up and finger sliding open to her messages.

“Uh, another thing though.” Kirishima raises his hand to spare his concern. “All Might says we’ll be splitting into groups of five at most, but there’s already five of us here.”

There’s a brief moment of deadpanning until Mina speaks casually. “Oh, that’s right. Kaminari. Take one for the team and make sure to join another group, ‘kay?” She settles without batting a lash.

Kaminari almost chokes on a mouthful of chips. “H-Huh?! What?! Why me?!!” he sputters.

“Because you’ve been eating chips this entire time and haven’t contributed to anything.”

“Hey, I offered the room, didn’t I?!” He tries justifying but is inevitably rejected by Mina’s wagging finger.

“Ah-ah, no complaints! Besides, it’s only one day of training. If we want this dilemma between Bakugou and Y/n fixed then we all have to play our part, got it?” Mina finalizes with a firm point of her finger nearly grazing the tip of the blond’s nose as he leans back to avoid it, eyebrows scrunched in discontent at the role he’s been reduced to.

“Alllllright!” Kirishima springs from his seat with outstretched arms and tightened fists. “Operation: Get Y/n to Forgive Explosion Boy is underway!”

“Dude, that’s a terrible name!” Sero laughs but rises from the bed to join the redhead’s cheer alongside Mina, the group already in high spirits.

Despite rolling his eyes at their swell of confidence, Bakugou does not object to the state of things. As crazy as it sounds, one could almost decipher the cusp of a grin pulling the seams of his lips as a possible sign he’s actually all for this extravagant little plan. Quite a first for Bakugou, but then again, there’s not much else he can do in this situation except rely on his pack of chumps.

Meanwhile, Kaminari grumbles something beneath the salty grit between his teeth.

“Alright, can you all get out of my room now?”

.

.

The scowl etched on your face carries a strong air of disdain that dampens the mood around your teammates considerably. Well, no one should be surprised. With Bakugou standing across from you, staring into the void of your expression, it’s to be expected that you wouldn’t be happy with this outcome.

No, “unhappy” doesn’t quite do your circumstance justice. You are beyond livid.

You feel your eyebrow twitch as you try quivering your lips to form a tinge of a smile. Unfortunately, all that quickly falls apart when you suddenly recall the disaster of last week, triggered by an accidental glance at Bakugou’s mug.

Trying to simmer down, you release a mental sigh amidst the turmoil boiling inside you.

Okay, maybe you’re over-exaggerating. Maybe you’re still just a bit too bitter for your own good and letting your emotions get to you. But in a class of twenty or some students, how did you end up in a group with the one person you were actively trying to avoid?

The moment All Might gave everyone the go-ahead to form their teams for today’s training exercise, you swiftly made a beeline toward two particular star students. Midoriya and Todoroki.

It was simple really. Your experiences throughout the school year told you Bakugou planned on staying away from his rivals when it came to teamwork, regardless of whether you’re there or not. He’s a competitive ass whose goal is to beat anyone he deems a threat in his climb to be the number one hero. It’s only logical you partner with people he adamantly dislikes to evade him.

Yet it seems fate has other plans for you today. By the time you found yourself pacing over to the two students you had in mind, they’d already gone and picked their own group members, forming teams before you could even ask.

Your nose wrinkles like you’ve taken a whiff of something rancid. Or, to be more specific, something fishy. Hooking an arm around Mina’s elbow, you drag the pink-haired girl off to a corner somewhere while tilting your head back at the three other boys.

“Ex. Cuse. Us.” Your words sound as stiff as cardboard. It comes out in practically a hiss when your eyes cross Bakugou. Once you’re positive you’re out of earshot, you whip your head at Mina.

“Mina, what the hell? When you dragged me over here to form a group with you you didn’t tell me he’d be there,” you groan. Childish and petty as you may sound, you just couldn’t fathom the idea of confronting the boy so soon.

Mina holds her hands out, ready to rationalize the whole ordeal. “C’mon Y/n, this is actually an advantage for us! With us four plus you on our team, we’re sure to knock the rest of the other guys out during training today! I mean we showed pretty good teamwork together at the sports festival, didn’t we?”

Steadying your gaze, you hold a finger below your chin as you slowly buy into the explanation. The reasoning is there. It’s hard to argue against a case like that, fully aware that being on the same team as explosion boy will easily snag good results for you and your party. ‘Cause as much of an arrogant jerk as he is, you have to admit Bakugou Katsuki knows his way around hero action like the back of his grenade gauntlets.

“Besides it’s not like you could avoid him for the entire school year. I mean, you two are in the same class. It was only a matter of time before you had to—”

“I know, Mina,” you interject, not wanting the rest of her sentence about the inevitable fall to your ear. “I just… Agh, you know what I mean!” You ruffle your hands through your hair in confliction, unsure how to piece your thoughts together.

Tilting your head over Mina’s shoulder, you sneak a glimpse at Bakugou, watching him as he’s cast to the side with the others. He’s fending himself from Kirishima and Sero’s combined jokes, that usual look on his face sending glares at the two and yelling something you could almost pick up on if you honed your ears a bit more. Surprisingly, when his eyes meet yours for a split second, he stands there looking nonchalant again. Both of you immediately avert your gazes.

Mina pats your shoulder, bringing you back to the conversation at hand. “I know, I know, but after this, I’m sure you can go back to ignoring his ass. After all, it’s just one training exercise, right?” she says. As her words deliver some relief to your ill-timed situation, you give in with a sigh.

Unbeknownst to you, turning your back to Mina and striding toward the rest of your teammates again, you miss the small glint in her yellow eyes, along with the subtle gestures she aims at the three boys, waving her pointed thumbs over your head secretively.

“So I take it you’re on the team with us, Y/n?” Sero asks when the two of you return. You nod in reply and the boy flashes his pearly whites in a wide grin that Kirishima mirrors. He nudges Bakugou at his sides which you subtly catch in the far corner of your eye.

You raise a brow suspiciously at their fidgeting, wondering why having you on their team warrants such enthusiasm, but you’re thankful for their energy at least. Someone has to lift the atmosphere for this not to be a complete drag and Bakugou surely isn’t going to be the mood maker of the group.

The blond scoffs. “Yeah, well, if you dumbasses are going to form a team with me, you’ll follow under my leadership, got it?”

The three readily agree. Though you roll your eyes, you don’t challenge his position, considering no one else is that much up to the task as he is. You’ll simply have to deal with the fact that you’re forced to tread through the day under his leadership. So with no objections, the five of you walk back to the class, gathering around the entrance of today’s battlefield.

Jumping into the activity, All Might goes about explaining today’s lesson to the four sets of teams—consisting of a group exercise to heighten teamwork. The name of the game? Capture the flag.

In short, each team will be split off into different sections of the labyrinth where their assigned flag is stationed. The objective is to not only protect your flag from being stolen but also try and steal an opposing team’s flag from their base and escort it safely to your home field. Nice and simple.

Not long after All Might’s explanation, the gate to the training grounds opens and you all scatter off into your teams, navigating through the twists of the maze to locate your flags. Once your group situated themselves onto your home base, you assemble in a huddle to devise a strategy before the game starts.

“So what’s the plan?” Kirishima asks, eyes darting around his teammates until they rest on Bakugou—the team leader. The ash-blond crosses his arms, a confident sneer plastered on his face as he’s already thought of his plan of action the moment All Might announced the mission.

“Easy. I’m going straight to the front-lines to swipe one of those dumbasses’ flags. You lot are gonna stay here and guard ours until I come back.” He delivers the strategy in a matter-of-fact tone that you quickly don’t take a liking to. Your fist curls in irritation.

“What kind of a plan is that?” you question audaciously, your voice louder than you intended. “So you’re just going to do all the work while we sit around and wait for you?”

Bakugou grits his teeth, leaning further into the huddle to direct his senseless logic. “Look, it’s the fastest and most surefire way to snag our victory without sacrificing anyone,” he says. Playing over his words again, he finds it surprising he even chooses to offer his reasoning. Because if it were anyone other than you he was arguing with, he’s certain he’d leave it at that.

Knowing the current tension between you was a result of his misjudgment, it feels only right for Bakugou to make an effort in communication. He ignores the antsy expressions belonging to the others who signal from behind you to follow along with their original plan.

You don’t seem to catch the hint, nor do you buy into his ridiculous strategy. “Oh, so you’re that confident you won’t get taken out by the other team then?” you quip. As a result, Bakugou’s brows tighten at your noncompliance.

“I know how to take care of myself. You of all people should realize by now that no other nerd in this whole damn class can outmatch me.”

“And what about an ambush? How do you know they simply won’t anticipate your strategy and see you coming?” You fire another counterargument and the boy purses his lips, beginning to find this quarrel spiraling into a headache rather than a step in the direction of reconciliation.

While Sero and Kirishima stand there, shifting their heads back and forth throughout the fiery exchange, Mina speedily reacts. The gears of that cunning mind of hers click into place again.

“You know what, Y/n’s right. Why don’t you two go together then?” she proposes boldly. Her suggestion catches you by complete surprise. You veer in her direction with an incredulous look blown in your eyes.

Before you can open your mouth to protest, the two boys standing beside her immediately back her up.

“Hm, Mina has a point. The chances of you falling into a trap wouldn’t be much if you two work together,” Sero remarks.

Kirishima follows, “Yeah, you guys can watch each other’s backs while going to collect the flag! It’s safer to go in a pair than by yourselves I’d say.”

The three seem adamant about the idea, sharing equally content expressions, and with all that said, you find it hard to dig yourself out of this situation. In a way, you practically volunteered yourself after questioning Bakugou’s plan and doubting his abilities. The group only feels it’s right you come along as his support since you clearly must be worried about his well-being.

Pushing your objections down your throat, you reluctantly agree to tag along with the blond. What you find exceptionally shocking is how Bakugou doesn’t oppose these new conditions. Given his hard-headed temperament, you thought he would’ve scoffed and turned his back at being paired without notice, but no such things were happening here.

...Odd.

“Tch, whatever. Let’s get going then,” is all he gives, starting in the direction into the urban area of the training course.

You trail behind him. “Coming, Boom-Boy…” you mutter the last bit but don’t suppress the urge to let your words be known. Bakugou turns his head and gives you a look akin to an uptight six-year-old you just offended at your local playground. You shrug in response, a corner of your lip pinched upward. He doesn’t pick a fight over the nickname, but his eyebrows remain fiercely slanted, and coupled with his heavy steps and the excessive swinging of his gauntlet-clad arms, it tells you of his emotional constipation plain as day.

.

.

The journey toward the other teams’ flags is cloaked in strained silence and the physical gap between you two does not encourage any of you to speak up. At this point, both of your levels of annoyance for each other have mellowed out. Now it just feels... awkward—strange. You don’t see his expression, nor does he see yours. It feels like you’re being left in the dark, having only the back of Bakugou’s head to stare at the entirety of the way, and though you supposedly have his back, Bakugou feels precarious in this state as he trudges along at the front, not daring to turn his head to cross your eyes.

The ambiance is reminiscent of the ancient Greek legend of Orpheus and Eurydice. Where Bakugou walks through the depths of the underworld, seeking you out in hopes you’d join his side once again. If he turns around now and spills his thoughts to you too soon, he fears that your forgiveness would be whisked away, thoroughly beyond his reach, and replaced with your promises of retribution.

That was the eloquent version of the situation anyway. To put it bluntly, Bakugou was just impatient as hell to say something to you. The silence suffocates him to the point where the words are nearly about to be squeezed out of his throat, but he bites his lip to snuff out the urges.

The more he keeps them in, the more fidgety he becomes, hands itchy and mouth trembling with grit between his teeth. The idea of not letting his voice be heard was something Bakugou detested. Mainly because it was already such a challenge to even keep his mouth shut, given his fiery attitude and lack of patience.

Man, what the hell am I hesitating for? he asks himself, that outspoken side of him spurring him on.

Ah, screw the uncertainty, he thinks. If he doesn’t say anything now, then he won’t get to say anything ever.

Bakugou stops in his tracks, turning his head. Here goes nothing,

“Hey, Y/n, I–”

“Katsuki–”

Words collide into each other, jumbled and incoherent, which take you two by surprise as you meet each other’s furrowed gazes. It’s quiet as you both piece your way through this, eyes trained like you haven’t seen each other in months when the reality is that a week of bitterness has somehow made you act like strangers. The bewildered look crossing his features is foreign to you; you’ve never quite seen Bakugou as taken aback as he is now.

“You first,” you grant before Bakugou could mix up your words again. Even being given permission, the blond still isn’t sure what to say, his thoughts lost on him the moment his voice clashed with yours. He takes a deep breath, calming his senses and steadying his mind for what he wants to convey.

“Look, Y/n, I don’t know how to put this as nicely as I can,” he begins, tone consistent yet wary, assessing your expression, “but I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you there all by yourself. I shouldn’t… have blown you off like that and forgotten about you.” He delivers this bluntly—honestly—as open as a boy of his nature can muster with arms spread out, willingly exposing him to his faults and your reprisals.

Looking at you, he finds your eyes are cast to the floor, assuming to be reflecting on his words carefully. After some deliberation, you come across the vermillion in his eyes.

“Frankly, I haven’t entirely forgiven you just yet. But I will say that despite how I’ve been acting, I’m not as mad at you as you think,” is what you give, and Bakugou would be lying to himself if he didn’t achieve relief at your statement. He mentally releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding throughout the exchange. However, you aren’t done yet.

“I just want you to understand what moments like those mean to me. It’s during that time where I can share my feelings and learn more about you—understand who you are,” you say. Bakugou latches onto every word. “And it goes both ways, you know. It’s hard to want to stay in a relationship with someone who doesn’t make an effort to make time for you.” It’s obvious you aim that comment at him as Bakugou’s eyes soften slightly hearing it. His calloused, glove-clad hands wrap into his palms. Man, he really was a jerk.

“Still… I know you’re making an effort to be sincere and that you’re genuinely sorry for what happened, especially considering how the others seem to have set this whole conversation up, right?” Bakugou winces over the Bakusquad’s ploy coming to light and makes a note not to follow along next time unless those dummies can scrape up a more elaborate plan.

Despite that, he presses on, “So, what does this mean?” A smile settles on the curve of your lips, sensing his impatience as his voice hastens you along.

“Well…” you begin, speech drawn out in anticipation as you step toward him to where Bakugou follows your movements. That is until he catches a few shadowy figures shifting around atop the small building behind you. Before you can open your mouth to continue, his instincts flare to life.

“Hey, look out!” he exclaims, already acting on his warnings by lunging forward to push you out of the way. Your breaths draw back into your lungs, your body thrust abruptly into the opposite direction. Landing on your butt, you wince at both the shock and the pain, but your whines desist when you witness Bakugou taking a force to the head as a result of coming to your aid.

“Katsuki!” you yell, immediately getting off the ground to rush to his side, but he can’t find it in himself to respond. Afflicted with a substantial blow to the crown of his head, his whole being throbs and his vision spins.

Fuck, is Y/n, okay? is the first thing on his mind, ignoring the liquid trickling down his forehead. His question is answered upon turning his head to meet your anxious expression—your eyes wide and lips quivering as they move to say words he can’t exactly make out beneath the pounding sensations consuming his mind. As he feels a set of arms wrap around him, he tries discerning his surroundings to form a reply, but can only capture bits and pieces.

“—tsuki! ...old… n!”

“...god—! I’m so dead!”

A sputter of words tangling together is the last he hears before his vision fades to black.

.

.

The next time Bakugou awakes, his eyes slowly sever open to come face-to-face with a blurry white ceiling. The lights assault his vision as his senses take time to adjust, unraveling the environment to realize he’s laying on a bed—a hospital bed to be precise.

He attempts lifting himself but is met with retaliation in the form of his pulsating head which he immediately flinches at. His hand goes to rub his scalp to soothe the ache and he finds bandages wrapped tightly around him. “What the hell happened?” The last he remembers is traversing the urban area with you for the capture the flag mission before finally confronting the subject that had been plaguing your minds for a week now. After that, he caught sight of some object descending toward you and before he had even realized it, his feet had moved on their own. Next thing he knows, he’s waking up in the nurse’s office with a headache from hell.

Wait, what about you? Were you okay? Surely, he had to have pushed you out of the way in time, right?

His head moves quicker than it should’ve, revealing the other hospital bed in the room to be unoccupied, vacant. He sighs and his relief is further bolstered by the door to the nurse’s room opening to unveil you unharmed with only your heavy look of concern troubling him.

“Katsuki, oh thank god, you’re okay!” you say, quickly pacing over to his side with a glass of water in hand. You leave it at his bedside, sitting before him. Gauging your appearance up and down, Bakugou tries making out even the smallest details.

“You aren’t hurt?”

You’re appalled he would ask this despite clearly being the one patched up in a hospital bed right now, and likely sporting some serious head trauma.

“Of course I am, you’re the one that lunged forward to protect me,” you tell him. Bakugou looks down at his lap, figuring that was what happened, but hearing it from you comforted him more than he thought. However, his comfort is wretched from him by the intense pressure persisting in his skull. Seeing him in pain, you urge him to lay down and rest.

“How the hell did I end up here anyway?”

You fidget with your fingers, hesitating on answering. At that, the blond lifts a brow, suspicious.

“Mineta… accidentally dropped a rock on your head.”

“...You gotta be joking, right?”

Bakugou leers hard, finding the reason he was out of commission to be a damn pebble hitting his head a detriment to his pride. And because of Mineta of all fucking people. Still, if he hadn’t acted as quickly as he did, you would’ve been the one to meet his fate instead, and he weighed this outcome to better than the former.

Then you explain how the teachers had temporarily intervened to bring his unconscious body to the nurse’s, where the old lady went about tending to his injury. Said she did her job and all he needed was to rest and let her quirk take fuller effect within that time.

“So did we win the game?” He switches the topic to today’s mission of capture the flag that was cut short on his end.

You shake your head, but at least grant him the benefit of knowing Mineta’s team ended up placing last. At that, his eyelids shut and he crosses his arms behind his bandaged head. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t my intention to win anyway.”

You give him a look. “...Liar.”

Bakugou cracks an eye open at you. “Hah? What do you mean I’m a fucking liar?”

“I know you, Katsuki. I dated you, after all. And the Katsuki that I dated is an arrogant, competitive jerk who thinks of being the best above all else.” Bakugou scrunches his nose, wondering what you’re implying through your... overly frank descriptions. “Still… he’s sweet and caring at times… and reliable when he needs to be,” you continue, tone softening that draws Bakugou in, “And the kind of guy I want to give a second chance to.”

Absorbing your words, Bakugou blinks. “S-Seriously?” He doesn’t mean to stutter, but the offer catches him off-guard. He replays what you just said. That’s what he heard, right? A second chance?

You giggle at how uncharacteristically astonished he sounds. “Yes, seriously.”

“Does that mean you forgive me for what happened last week?”

You hum between pursed lips in playful contemplation. “Well, maybe you can redeem yourself by going on another date with me then?”

Hearing your proposal, a wide grin arcs his lips, edging into a smirk.

“That’s it? Well, I can definitely fucking do that,” he states, confidence rejuvenating his body at the new, hopeful chance before him.

“Oh, just one more thing though,” you suddenly add.

“What?”

“We are not going to that Chinese Restaurant again.”

[kj-1130]

Can you do a Emily sonnett imagine

Where R is Ashlyn daughter and Sonnett and R are dating (but Ash does not know yet because of not really been in contact with R since Sloane has been born and R lives in a different state) and R play different sport (can be anything) and Emily and Ash and Ali (some other members of the team as well) comes to support R but R mange to get hurt (serious) and that how Ash found out that R and Sonnett are together?

With a bunch of feels and a happy ending as well?

Thank you!

@newyorker14 i just put the reader on the national team cause i couldn’t think of another way to do it. and ash is R’s team mom instead of actual mother. hope you enjoy!!

Main Masterlist

     During your first national team camp, it was safe to say that you were definitely a hot mess. You were nervous and jittery, always doubting your every move.

     Luckily, you had a saving grace; Ash. 

     The goalkeeper saw your fears and was quick to quell them with comforting words and her loving personality. As you attended more and more camps with the woman, it was easy to see that the two of you were developing a beautiful relationship. And with her came Ali as well.

     The two women took you under their wings and showed you the ins and outs of the professional soccer world. Not only that but they gave you some great advice about personal life too. 

     While they had told you that you could come to them with just about anything, you didn’t think you had the guts to talk about this to them quite yet. 

     You and Emily were dating to put it plain and simple. You have been for a while. 

     And for some reason, you just couldn’t get past the nerves of telling your team moms. You knew they wouldn’t disown you; hell they married each other it’d be a little hypocritical if they did. You don’t think they’d be mad about it. After all, the age gap is barely even there.

     So there really wasn’t a reason to not tell them. You just didn’t know why you were so hesitant. 

     Maybe it was because you enjoyed the privacy of it and having something to yourself. Or maybe you were subconsciously ‘helping’ Emily out from getting the shovel talk. Or maybe it was the fact that you lived in another state and it didn’t exactly seem like ‘over the phone’ news.

      You could make up excuse after excuse. All you knew was that you were just not ready. And you didn’t know when or if you ever would be. 

     You let out a sigh and turned to face Emily, who was leaning against the headboard, watching some old rerun on tv. The two of you were lucky to get roomed together this camp (though you had an inkling that it had to do with the fact that you were able to talk Sonnett out of doing one of her pranks last camp). 

     You dropped your head into her lap and let out another let out another sigh. 

     “You alright?” she asked with a chuckle, moving her hand to play with your hair.

     “Yeah. Just thinking,” you replied, snuggling deeper into her legs. 

     “‘Bout what?” 

     “How Krashlyn’s doing. ‘Specially with the baby and all.”

     “Ohh. Your little sister,” the blonde teased. 

     You thumped her legs with a tiny giggle, “Shut up.” 

     That also could’ve been another reason you didn’t want to tell them. It really wasn’t considering the two of you got together long before Ash and Ali had even gotten Sloane. There were plenty of times you could’ve told them but you just didn’t. And now didn’t really seem like the best time since they’ve been very busy with their new baby. 

     Glancing at the clock that was located on the nightstand, you grimaced at the time. 

     “C’mon, blondie,” you said, patting her legs. “We’ve got an early morning. Time to get to bed.” 

     The woman groaned, but complied, knowing it was useless to argue with you. 

     Once the two of you got settled, you cuddled under the covers and Emily pulled you into her. Even though your mind was racing with thoughts no more than five minutes ago, the blonde was able to calm you without even knowing it. 

-

     The next morning, the two of you quickly got up and ate breakfast, getting into your game day mentality. 

     As you all loaded the bus, you couldn’t help but feel some weird sense of dread; like something was going to happen. 

     Christen placed a hand on your knee, stopping it from bouncing. 

     “You okay?” 

     You nodded in response. 

     “Yeah, just..got a feeling.”

     The forward nodded as well, knowing that you didn’t want to be pushed right now. 

     You really wanted Emily, but she tended to be more energetic on game days whereas you were more chill, needing more quiet to get in your zone which is why you usually sat with Christen or Tobin or anyone else who was like that. 

     Eventually, you all made your way to the stadium. Even after all that time on the bus, the feeling still lingered. You tried to ignore it as you got ready, knowing that you needed your mind fully focused on this game. 

     Sooner or later, you were all heading out on the field. After the anthems and coin toss, the game was set in motion. 

     Things were going smoothly for the first half. The other team was tough but they were no match for you all. Eventually, the first half ended and you were all headed back for re-hydration and pep talks. As you left the field, the feeling of dread crept back up on you except this time, it felt ten times stronger. 

     You couldn’t pay attention to anything, knowing at this point that something was bound to happen. 

     As you all headed back into the field you attempted on putting your focus into this match, ready to get it over with and spending the rest of your day relaxing with Emily.

     When you were attempting a header, you felt something hard then it all went black. 

-

     You were awoken by an annoying incessant beeping. 

     “Babe, turn it off. Five more minutes,” you groaned, trying to turn on your side. 

     “Who are you calling babe?” 

     Your eyes snapped open, despite not being ready to. They darted around nervously taking in the fact that you were in a hospital room with your team moms and not Emily. 

     You chuckle nervously and glance between the two women. 

     “Nice weather we’re having, yeah?” 

     They only raised their eyebrows and you let out a sigh. Before anyone could say anything there was a small commotion and the door slammed open, the noise hurting your head. 

     “Oh thank god, you’re okay,” Emily breathed out in relief. “I was so worried,” she placed a kiss on your head. 

     “Emily,” you whispered, but you were only ignored. 

     “When you went down all I wanted to do-”

     “Emily,” you said more forcefully. 

     “-was run over there, but I couldn’t. And I was so scared-” 

     “Emily,” you warned, finally stopping her rambling. 

     “What?” 

     Ash cleared her throat and you watched as the other blonde’s expression turned into one of terror. 

     “Maybe if I’m still enough, they won’t think I’m actually here,” she whispered comically. 

     “It’s a little late for that, Sonnet,” Ali finally said. 

     “Surprise,” you weakly said, giving enthusiastic jazz hands. 

     Ash saw how you were battling sleep and let out a sigh, allowing her protectiveness to dial down for now. 

     “We’re talking about this later,” she sighed out. “But for now get some rest.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Permanent Taglist

@stillmanicc, @annestine, @ymzki-haruki

USWNT Taglist

@idek-5, @10-19-17uswnt, @mmmmokdok

[misselko]

Got this idea from Dimitri’s conversation with Byleth before Fort Merceus battle with the Death Knight. Put some angst, fluff, and a pinch of smut spices into the dish and let it simmer down! At least, that’s what I want! But it turned out... different ;) Sorry not sorry

This one took me some days to write. I hope you enjoy it! Please feel free to give me some advice and ideas for my next fic! Your warm comments will be cherished very much 💕 Thankies!!

 

RECKLESS

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Mention of blood, violence, smut

Words: 3316

 

POST TIMESKIP

Empire will be the only remaining enemy and to move on to the Imperial Capital, Enbarr, capturing Fort Merceus is a must. Praised as the strongest defense with its fortified military installation  in the Empire, seizing it won’t be an easy feat.

Liberating Arianrhod, calming down Holy Kingdom of Faerghus political issues, winning over the Leicester Alliance and gained their support. Getting a lead on Lady Rhea’s location. Although things were a rough go, but thinking back on it now, Blue Lions sure has really come a long way. Things have been wonderful in these past moons that it almost feels like dream too good to be true.

You don’t know why but you can’t shake your uneasy feelings and dread. War is raging and everyone knows there is a big battle on the horizon.

“We must not falter in our assault. The Death Knight is the enemy commander in Fort Merceus. He’s an unpredictable opponent. A dangerous one. Please proceed with caution, (Y/N).”

“I will, Dimitri. No need to worry.”

“I have not come this far just to lose you here. I’m serious. Do not be reckless out there.”

“Will you save me if I’m in trouble?”

“Of course, (Y/N). You were the heart of the Blue Lions, and the same holds true for the Kingdom Army.”

You smiled at his concern and hold his hands gently.

“I will do my best as well to support you, my Dimitri.” His cheeks turned into rosy blush at your words.

 

“Whoaa!! You’re getting pretty chummy, aren’t you, Your Highness? Go get a room!” Sylvain winks and got punched HARD, dragged away by Ingrid. You make mental notes on giving her a delicious roasted meat from that famous new shop in the town later as your gratitude. Serves him right!! ...But you wouldn’t trade them for anything in this world. Everything will be alright with them. Blue Lions are your precious family. It will be fine. Everything will be fine.

---

Capturing Fort Merceus is a daunting task. Endless enemies are approaching and relentless. Felix and Sylvain are working together cut through the snipers and mages. Ingrid and Ashe are doing their best to handle the pegasi knights. Dedue, Annette, Mercedes, and Flayn makes great combo on cutting through enemy reinforcements while providing healing to everyone. Slowly but sure, you and Dimitri managed to push Death Knight on the corner. But it doesn’t make things less difficult for both of you.

 

“You dare stand between me and my pleasure?”

The beginning of it was barely a bellow that grew steadily to a deafening roar, piercing the air and shaking the ground. Areadbhar crack in deafening clash against Death Knight’s Scythe of Sariel. They raised their weapons, waving them overhead.

 

“Yes. I dare stand against you, Death Knight!!”

 

Dimitri decides to face Death Knight head on as you tried your best to keep his back safe from the Imperial soldiers assaults. Keeping a close eye on him... just in case, following from a few meters back, cover his blind spots that way, look out for any potential danger. You could see them coming around, carefully and quietly trying to find their way to Dimitri.

 

Landing sharp blows, you bring the blade down on the head of another mage. Slashing your way through numerous enemies, you start to feel fatigued. Countless enemies lying dead behind. You looked around, among the sea of red and black, a swordmaster is sneaking his way behind Dimitri, ready to ambush him.

 

But you wouldn’t let it happen!

 

You were fully offensive, rapidly swinging your sword down on the swordmaster. You were able to deflect, parry, and block most of his attacks until his foot swept across your ankles, knocking you hard to the floor. The swordmaster stood above you, ready to press his sword into your chest to end your life. Fatigue made it harder for you to evade his deadly stab completely. Sound of a weapon piercing through flesh filled your ears, followed by an intense pain in your side. He pulled it back out with a triumphant smirk on his face. Despite the searing pain, you made it in time to grab your own weapon and thrust it up to his neck, your arms shaking as you tried to counter the weight of his attack. Grimace crossing your face as he fell, blood painting the earth a sick shade of red.

 

You sat up, wincing at the searing, burning hot pain on your side. The stab wound was way too deep. Your hands trembled, desperately attempting to put pressure on the wound as heavy flow of your blood is trickling through your fingers, colors your skin and clothes. The world had turned blurry, and your body felt weak. Ignoring the excruciating pain, you rush forward to help Dimitri. He has won against the Death Knight. But in his brief reverie, the Tempest King failed to notice two opposing snipers are approaching him, expression intent to kill, aiming their arrows at his back.

 

You acted on instinct, rushing forward, sprinting to intervene. To protect him.

‘We have been through so much together and he’d been through hell and back... I want to ease his pain. Knowing he’s safe... I can be at peace.’

You thought to yourself, launching forward. You barely has energy to stand up, but you tried to muster your last remaining strength to dove in before Dimitri. The arrows managed to easily make it’s way through your armor, landing in your chest and abdomen. ‘I have no regret when it came to protecting Dimitri.’

 

Your body slammed hard on the ground, careening across the battlefield. A sharp cry pained noise escaped you; that was all it took. Dimitri stiffened at the sound. It pulled him from the high of the battlefield down to reality in an instant.

 

“(Y/N)!!!”

 

He turned; filled with horror and rage. The fires blazing around him didn’t give off any heat. The battlefield around him turned black and white. His ears were ringing as if he’d been caught in an explosion. Dimitri went after the snipers and thrust them both at their hearts. After a quick glance to make sure no more surprise attacks happen, he kneels and pulling you into his chest. You looked so small, felt so limp that it sickened him. Broken and battered with littered scars and large wound on your side. Arrows jutting out of your chest, much too close to the heart, and another one lodged deep in your abdomen.

 

Dimitri watched as the blood pooled around you. Blood... there is so much blood. Your blood.

“Goddess... what were you- MERCEDES! FLAYN!! SOMEONE...HELP!!”

 

He pulled himself up, beside you, staring at your face. You were so pale. Oh, Goddess, you were dying. Were you already dead?

“I’m sorry.” There isn’t a reason to apologize, you aren’t sorry, but it still came out like the blood that is on Dimitri’s hands now.

 

“Don’t you dare apologize to me right now,” his voice choked off in his throat feels raw with emotions, barely able to hold back the sob which demands to escape, “not when you are like this. What were you thinking, (Y/N)? You have promised me to not be reckless.” He phrased it in a question, but both know why.

 

“Y-You... haven’t seen the... swordmaster... and those snipers. Y-You...were going to die...if they attack you. I want to protect you.... and I don’t regret my decision.“

 

You opened your mouth to speak but immediately coughed, feeling globs of blood on the corners of your lips. Dimitri gripped your hand, his hold so tight that it hurt, but you wouldn’t waste your breath on telling him. You could barely see Mercedes scurried over to your side as quickly as she could, Flayn follows behind her, leaving the Death Knight behind with tears running down her cheeks.

 

“Please stay awake for me a little longer, please.”

He choked out, pulling you closer if possible as it would keep you from leaving.

 

The chaos around you went mute as your eyes grow heavy. Maybe a quick nap would suffice.

 

“No...no, no, (Y/N)!! You can’t do this to me, you can’t-! Please, (Y/N), I can’t lose you too.....”

 

You felt like you were fading, and the sounds around you faded along with your hazy consciousness. You fell asleep.

---

Every second was filled with anxiety; you’d lost so much blood. The wounds were too deep to heal completely. There was little to no possibility of survival. Not after what you’d been through.

The days turned to one week, then two...then three. The physical wounds had healed, mostly repaired and faded to scars. There was potential for things to return to normal, and you may wake up sooner rather than later.

When you opened your eyes again, you found yourself in a dimly lit room, your upper body covered in bandages. The first thing you’re aware of is a dull throb radiating throughout your entire body. You were confused, and moved your head, unintentionally shifting your body and sending a wave of pain through your chest and stomach as you tried to get up. You closed your eyes tightly in response to the return of extreme pain, much worse than you had ever felt before. With much struggle, you sat on the edge of the bed shakily trying to stand up. The door creaked open and you looked up to find Dimitri peering inside.

 

”You’re awake,” he said, a look of surprise on his face. You tried to stand up and walk to him but failed, Dimitri ran in and caught you before you fell over. “I thought I was going to lose you, (Y/N),” he said, lifting you up effortlessly, settling you gently onto the bed and pulled up a chair. 

 

As cautiously as you could, you managed to sit yourself up. You kept a careful eye on the young king, noting how dark the circles under his eyes have become and how hollow his cheeks have turned. The fact that rest had eluded him for however long you were unconscious was as plain as day.

 

“You nearly died because of me. I have no right to be... you of all people shouldn’t-!” He managed to say, his voice shaking as his fingers trembled.

His head shot up to look at you, cerulean blue eyes dampened by tears that pooled in them. Your eyes were open, though weakly, looking at him and his disturbed state. You sensed his worry, but also his relief as he hovers next to your bed, engulfing you in his embrace and squeezing you against his chest for all he was worth. He was mindful of your wound, but that wasn’t enough to keep him away. No, he needed you. He needed to be beside you, to feel you, to know you were there.

 

“I’m okay, Dimitri...” You whispered, resting a hand on his chest where his heart thundered. You closed your eyes against him, relishing the feel of his tender warmth.

 

You felt how hard and rapid his heart was beating, almost deafening. Your arms wrapped around his heaving back weakly, rubbing it soothingly. He pulled you closer in response—closer, closer, closer, until every inch of you was smothered by him. Hesitant, trembling fingers graced your tightly wound bandages and you felt something warm and wet splatter onto your exposed shoulder.

 

"I could not stand to lose you,” he spoke slowly, holding your hands so tight that it hurts.

“But I fear that I may if I tell you what is on my mind.”

 

His voice was as quiet as it could be and it made you frown your eyebrows in worry. You were happy to see him alive, that was your goal when you decided to protect him from the approaching enemies. However, seeing him so distraught and afraid twisted your insides uncomfortably. The way he held your hand so desperately, afraid to let go.

 

“Dimitri.” You call him quietly, which makes him look at you with those gorgeous eyes of him.

 

You move your hand to his cheeks, caressing his soft skin, trying to bring him even the tiniest amount of comfort. Leaning to give him a soft chaste kiss on his lips. He reciprocated by open-mouthed kiss you with such fervor. There’s an undercurrent of desperation in the way Dimitri kisses you, as if this is the last moment he’ll ever feel it. It’s almost as if it pains him to be this close to you. You were alive, yet he couldn’t help but doubt it. Perhaps it was once again due to the vicious noises he still heard, though faintly. However, he was glad that they allowed him this moment of happiness.

 

“I won’t leave you, Dimitri.” You promised between ragged breath, your chest heaving.

 

“We are so close to ending this. Please, promise me you’ll stay safe. Rest, for now, my beloved.” Leaning down, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, holding your hand to his chest. “I promise, I will never let you be hurt for my sake again.” Covering you with a  blanket  and tucking you into bed to retire for the evening.

---

After your awakening, the Blue Lions and Professor began incorporating regular infirmary visits into their schedule. They showered you with kind, encouraging words and occasionally bore small gifts (flowers and snacks), always encourage you to get better soon. But your most frequent visitor of all was your beloved gentle king.

It was two weeks since you have gotten better. Mercedes promised to take care after your bandages this evening.

“Are you ready, (Y/N)?”

You met Mercedes’ warm gaze with your own. With a firm nod, you replied, “Ready as I’ll ever be, Mercedes.”

 

The healer moved closer to you, her skilled hands undoing the set of bandages for the last time. Dimitri averted his frantic eyes to the wall when the dressing loosened just enough for your breasts to peak through. A cold, unforgiving breeze whipped the newly exposed skin, jolting a shiver down your spine. Mercedes sighed, slowly traced the scars your chest and stomach.

“I’m sorry but we will never be able to remove the scars. The wounds all healed, but... the scars will never go away completely. I’m sorry (Y/N).”

 

Your eyes immediately flashed over to Dimitri’s stiffening frame.

“It’s okay. I will never regret such a thing.” You smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Do you need anything else, (Y/N)?”

“No, I’m all good, Mercedes! Thank you for your help.”

“All right, then. Annette said that she needs my help with her baking this evening. We have to finish it before midnight! Should you need anything, please feel free to call me.” Mercedes gave you last smile before excusing herself politely from your quarter.

 

“Dimitri.”

His jaw clenched tautly; his eyes crunched into a pain-stricken wince. Refusing to look at your scar, a harsh reminder of his failure.

“Look at me.”

He stilled and won’t budge to look at you.

 

“I will never regret nor blame you for this. It was my decision and if it means saving you, I’ll gladly do it again in a heartbeat. Or... perhaps.... I can understand if you find that my... scars are disgusting, appalling, even....” you whisper softly, almost inaudible. Your surroundings whizzed right past you before you were unceremoniously slammed into your bed.

“DON’T SAY SUCH THINGS ABOUT YOURSELF!!” He growled “I will not allow you to throw your life away for me. If.. If something ever happen to you.. I’ll live a life worse than death itself, (Y/N).”

 

Not a moment later did you feel something warm and soft press against your lips. His mouth moved awkwardly yet full of affection. Hands planted  on either side of your body, ridding any hope of escape from his ravishing kisses. Dimitri pressed his lips further into yours, swallowing your moans. His lips left yours to trail down around your neck, breasts, and stomach lovingly. “This wounds... I cannot lose you again, my beloved.” His body quivered.  The King kissing the scars on your cleavage and abdomen, worshiping them reverently with tender touches, almost like touching a porcelain doll. Afraid to break you with his almost inhuman power. Biting and sucking wherever his heart desired until you were covered in nothing but love bites, leaving you a panting mess.

 

Dimitri held you in his arms, stroking your hair and mumbling whispers of ‘I’m sorry’. Bittersweet smile formed on his lips. He gazed at you, eyes lidded with desires and need, mixed with guilt and love. “(Y/N)... My beloved...” You pulled away slightly to look up at him and smiled.

“Dimitri...” You cupped his cheek in your hand, in which he immediately melted into.

“I love you, Dimitri.”

 

He blushed at your words, then it dawned on his realization. Suddenly becoming very aware of the... intimate position you were in. “Um, w-well...” As he came to his full senses he released his hands from you, as though from fire and stuttered, quickly pulling away from your panting form. He wasn’t making eye contact anymore, and you followed his gaze downwards on your body. Oh. Without the dreamlike stupor a d hazy feeling to distract you, you realized just how naked you are. Nightgown pooled beneath your waist. Feeling an onset of bashfulness, you also brought an arm up to cover as much of your chest as you could; despite what you had just done with him, the reality of the situation was catching up to you.

 

He flinched, breaking eye contact and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Ah—Urghh!!! I’m sorry, (Y/N)!! I don’t know what came over me but.. but... P-Perhaps we should... stop... before it escalates any further...” The King unclasped his furred cloak hurriedly and put it over your naked body unceremoniously, hiding his flushed crimson face in his hands again, absolutely brutalized with shame. 

 

“Er.. Be certain to rest for now. We may have undone some of your healing.” Then he said hurriedly, almost inaudibly. “When your strength returns to its fullest, we can pick up where we left off. I promise.”

 

“Fine...” You giggled, finding his attempt at being serious too adorable. The heat and passion was still very visible in his eyes, and it was obvious that anymore teasing on your end would send him over the edge.

“Thank you for this lovely evening, Dimitri.”

You pulled his hand to your lips and give each of his fingers soft kisses, gazing at him lovingly. Dimitri’s jaw and pants tightened, the poor king desperately clinging onto the last thread of sanity and reason which threatened to snap at any moment.

 

“Good night, my beloved (Y/N).” Casting one last glance at you and bashfully looking down when he caught your eye, the Blue Lions Leader left with a haste that was probably unbecoming of a gentleman, his long legs taking the steps to the second floor dormitory two at a time. He somehow,  somehow  managed to reach his room without incident or interruption, locking his door behind him, leaning back against it and covering his burning red face with his hands. His body felt like it was on fire; nerve endings alight with sensations he had long believed were dead.

 

The pit of his stomach tangled in knots when he thought of (Y/N). All he could think about was your pure unadultered love, beautiful (E/C) that is gazing at him affectionately. Goddess, he was such a sinner. It made him want to put his hands on you. All over you. Repeatedly. Savoring the taste of your lips as you moan into his mouth. Feeling your warmth and love. Unclothed. His mind is running wild. This frantic sensation in his blood, while half-forgotten, was not new. It will be another sleepless night for the poor king. And it’s all because of you.

[ravenrune]

💔💞☠️ for carlos please?

I'm going to try shorter HCs here because I always get carried away. Sorry this took a while to get to. <3

💔 How do you break their heart?

Quite easily. Carlos can be quite sensitive, so it's not too difficult to hurt him.

♦ If you cheat on Carlos, it will wreck him. He will need some time to think and he will probably leave you, no matter how much he loves you. ♦ If you do not let Carlos into your own life. If you hide things from him, things that are causing you pain or sadness, it will break his heart. ♦ He wants to be there for you no matter what, so if you hide things from him, he wil assume it's because you do not fully trust him. Relationships are built on trust, so open communication is very important to Carlos, and you can tell him everything that's on your mind, no matter how messed up it might be.

💞 How do you win their heart?

♦ First of all, be yourself. Carlos doesn't like people who pretend to be someone else. ♦ Treat him with respect, even if you think he can be a bit silly. He's a decently intelligent guy that knows what he wants and what he doesn't want. Behaviours such as treating him like a child or acting condescending are sure to drive him away from you. ♦ Having a good sense of humour and allowing yourself to be vulnerable every once in a while are things he'll definitely appreciate. He loves a good laugh, and he appreciates it when people don't hide their insecurities. ♦ Make him feel special. Flirt with him in your own way, even if it's a tad haphazard. He's very perceptive and will definitely pick up on it. So stop worrying and go for it, he'll love your attempts, even if you feel awkward. Heck, he loves it when you're a bit odd. It adds to your personality.

☠️ How do they react when they find out their s/o is dead?

♦ He will be absolutely devastated. He won't believe it at first and make several attempts to call you. If you don't answer, he will look for you. He'll search every single place of which he knows you loved going there, hoping to find you alive and kicking. ♦ Planning a funeral takes a lot of energy, and Carlos will want to give you the final goodbye you deserve. If that means shutting off his emotions for a bit, he'll do just that. ♦ After the funeral, he will surround himself with the people he loves. He'll allow them to take care of him during the first stages of grief. ♦ He'll cry. He will cry a lot. On essentially any shoulder that is offered to him. He'll look at all the pictures, watch all of the videos of you two together and sleep with a shirt that still carries your scent. ♦ He will place a picture of you in the bedroom surrounded by candles, your favourite perfume and the little plushie he won for you at an amusement park. ♦ Carlos will wear the ring he gave you many years ago on a necklace around his neck. If you were cremated, he will also add a small pendant with a bit of your ashes to keep you close to his heart, ♦ For a while, he will feel so lost, he'll consider becoming a mercenary again. Life without you is no life at all, so throwing himself back into the action will appeal to him quite a lot. That fact that he could get himself killed? He doesn't give a shit. ♦ Eventually, his family and friends will urge him to seek help, and he will heed their advice. ♦ He'll learn to live with the fact that you've died, but he will never forget you, and he will always wear a reminder of you around his neck.

... Guess I got carried away after all. Oops.

[hurricanes-art]

i am interested in your hades au, would you mind giving some details about it? 👁 it looks really interesting

[This AU is from these drawings!]

*cracks knuckles* Ok! I actually got enough sleep last night so I'm finally feeling up to explaining this au lmao

Also I hope that by “some details” you meant “way way too many” because I am nothing if not long winded. Also @hades-hellsite asked for context too, here you go

The central premise is that, after he dies, Achilles manages to make an arrangement with Hades that allows both him and Patroclus to stay in Elysium together. He's not employed to work at the house and he never becomes Zagreus's combat trainer.

Hades makes a few attempts to find Zagreus a different teacher among the shades of great warriors, but being skilled does not make someone able to teach. And being able to teach one way doesn't mean someone will be good for every student. When Zagreus doesn't learn well with the few mentors Hades tries, which he barely gives a chance to breathe anyway, he's quick to decide that he must have no martial ability and declares Zagreus a failure in that as he has about so many things.

This has two major effects on Zagreus before his escape attempts begin. One, without any chance to actually grow into aptitude in combat, he's left without anything substantial to put his energy into and, more importantly, he's left without anything he feels good at and that gives value to his efforts. Two is that, in Achilles' absence, very few people in the house give him any care and support untwisted by the politics of the house and the judgment of his father. There is Orpheus, kind to him before Hades locks him away for refusing to sing, Hypnos, willing to put the house to sleep so he can find the truth though jumbled up in his own problems, and Nyx.

Nyx is the only one to aid Zagreus when he decides to try to escape. She contacts Olympus and weaves careful lies to win their support and blesses his departure. She's also the only one who believes that Zagreus has the slightest chance of escaping. Already in canon, most everyone tells him there no way he'll make it out, but here, it's so much worse. He doesn't know how to fight, his initial attempts are pitiful and his progress negligible, and near everyone lashes out at him to get back in line and stop making things worse.

He doesn't even have the Infernal Arms. Achilles is the one who brings them to him in canon; here Zagreus takes a simple bronze sword from one of the house's many displays of weapons from wars long past. He thanks the Fates that the Styx restores it the same way it does his body when he dies because he nicks and dulls the edges every time.

Despite all the disadvantages, Zagreus throws himself into escaping with unshakable determination, bone deep stubbornness. He picks up his sword and will figure out how to use it himself. Experience will be his teacher. He dies over and over and he watches his enemies and learns how they move and how he must react, mimicking their attacks for his own use and adjusting and adjusting after each failure. And contrary to Hades' adamant belief, Zagreus is very intelligent and learns brilliantly when allowed to and he grows stronger and stronger.

There's no teacher more savage than experience in something like this, though. The pursuit is agonizing and the cost is enormous and adjusting to this ceaseless violence feels impossible.

Much of my interest in this idea is how the added strain on his circumstances and relationships affects Zagreus and his mental state. At his best, Zag looks a lot like he does in canon, with his laurels unfurled and vibrant, and his feet glowing hot, but he rarely feels his best here. His laurel leaves curl in dry and crisp, muted like the leaves of autumn. Flakes of ash and soot build up over his legs and encase more and more as he suffers. So deep is his feeling of failure and being trapped that it affects him physically.

Not always, though. His flames respond to his emotions, burn brighter in his passion. Enthusiasm, love, fervor, bliss, anger set him glowing.

After a brutally drawn out span of time, Zagreus meets Achilles and Patroclus in Elysium and tbh, the rest of my interest is really in how the altered circumstances change the evolution of their relationships with each other. The pair of warriors were never separated for an extended time and Achilles is less downtrodden and resigned and Patroclus is less bitter and abrasive when Zagreus stumbles upon them.

They don't fight him, which Zagreus counts among his greatest blessings, although Achilles still seems to have an interest. It makes him twitchy and he jumps when Achilles finally lifts his spear and swings it around in his third time in their little glade only to bump the flat of the blade against elbow and tell him to keep it in more towards his body. Zagreus blinks rapidly at him before adjusting his arm.

Achilles helps him here and there, tips and tricks and valuable advice, but he never gives anything near the thorough instruction he did in canon. On one hand, he doesn't need to. Zagreus is a self made fighter and it leaves him with weaknesses but it is also a powerful thing. He is unpredictable and incredibly adaptable and he only continues to improve.

On the other hand, there's no room for it. Achilles is gentle with his guidance, but Zagreus is rubbed raw by all the fighting he's done and all that still depends on it. He doesn't want to always focus on the weapon in his hands. Patroclus notices and curbs Achilles' input when it exceeds its bounds. He sits aside and observers carefully when they spar. Zagreus doesn't need another's direction which is fine by him, who's lost all desire for combat. He gives his aid through his assortment of trinkets that carry Zagreus further to the surface.

Zagreus barely knows what to do with himself in the face of their care. He's so unaccustomed to such generous and genuine support, interest devoid of expectation or blame. As familiarity between the three of them grows, their interactions grow warmer, more tender and comfortable. Their care lays on a foundation, not a hinge, and Zagreus grapples with understanding that he really can lean on it. It all leaves him so uncertain yet so desperate because he wants more than anything to have joy and conversation and company with others where he doesn't shoulder heavy guilt from unspoken accusations over his escaping the house and to have a place he feels he belongs without being an intrusion.

He does at first believe he's intruding, though. Intruding on their time together in the peace of Elysium. It takes them time to convince him that they value his presence immeasurably. The opportunity to stay together in the Underworld has been invaluable for Achilles and Patroclus, but the peace of Elysium is a deceptive thing. It wears away and prickles at them, pressing down in odd warping ways. Patroclus is beyond pleased to have the war behind him and that it can never force him to fight again, and despite Achilles retaining an interest in competition and combat, he does feel the same way. Having a cause though, something to believe in and worth devoting their efforts towards... They didn't realize how deeply they missed it until Zagreus. It is revitalizing. They thrive in his genuine, boundless kindness and long to support him.

The drawings of Orpheus arguing with Hades and Zagreus fighting with Nyx is from one of my plot point ideas. Later down the line, together, Hades, Persephone, and Nyx agree to forbid Zagreus from seeing Achilles and Patroclus at Nyx's behest. Similarly to how she talks about Dusa in canon, she sees mortal shades as beneath his station and that it's highly unbecoming for the prince to be consorting with them. Zagreus fights against the idea ferociously and is only smothered by the threat that, if he seeks them out anyway, Hades will void Achilles' agreement and have Patroclus moved to the proper plane of the Underworld.

It crushes Zagreus. He loves them and cares about them so much and being torn apart from them is a wound that cuts so deep. But even more than that, what breaks him open most, is the fact that it came from someone he cared for and trusted most. Nyx was the one person in the House he could depend on most and this betrayal at her hand is devastating. And for such a worthless reason as propriety and godly vanity. It's not her place to force those upon him. It hurts Zagreus to the core.

Orpheus is the only one willing to stick up for him in this, deeply empathetic to the grief of being separated from loved ones and well acquainted with the fact that such punishments will only damage, never correct. After all, his stint of punishment in Erebus didn't revive his desire to sing, it was Zagreus's dedication and vibrancy that did that. One of the many invaluable gifts Zagreus gave him, including reuniting him with Eurydice, making him happier than he'd been since her death. Orpheus can't keep biting his tongue when all these gods refuse to see any of this.

It all comes to a head dramatically and painfully and I've thought of a few variations on how it would play out. I'll leave it for now though, I might draw it or write it later >:3c  Also this got really long lol. Hopefully the idea is at least somewhat interesting!

And here, have the lines from these two drawings because I like the way they look