#it’s not that serious lol I’m just being dramatic…as usual | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

qierxing · 1 year ago

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A/N: An interpreted continuation of @shiny-jr wonderful fic. (checks calendar) Uhm, happy three month update to this series AND 1k notes on the first part! I would say sorry for the wait, but I really did need it LOL. Anyway, it's not super obvious, but the timeline is a bit all over the place in this part, because I'm jumping back and forth between past and present.

TW/CW: Immolation, violence, implied stalking+actual stalking, obsessive behavior, mild psychological and body horror, toxic relationships, Yuu uses it/its pronouns, we get a little meta in here, the boys are FIGHTINGGG I. II. | Isekai AU | Yan! Heartslabyul x Reader

“Who are you?” said the Caterpillar.

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, “I—I hardly know, Sir, just at present—at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.”

“What do you mean by that?” said the Caterpillar, sternly. “Explain yourself!”

“I ca’n’t explain myself, I’m afraid, Sir,” said Alice, “because I am not myself, you see.”

— Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Caroll

vi. Mourning

It is incredibly hard to get Yuu alone.

Whether it be by the forces of fate or just because so many vie for their attention, there is rarely, if ever, any time when someone is able to spend time personally alongside them. The only exception to this rule is Grim, who was practically the player's companion from the beginning.

So when Ace Trappola manages a rare chance to snag some one on one time with Yuu, he guns for it. Course, he had to time it perfectly.

It was just another night like any other. Ace and Deuce decided to come over to hang out for a casual sleepover as usual. The four of them did initially start out studying, before the textbooks and worksheets were being abandoned in favor of more exciting things, such as the deck of cards that Ace brought with him.

Sending Deuce and Grim off to get snacks through a won bet over a card game was easy as pie.

"Hey Ace?"

He hums in response, letting Yuu know he's listening. His nimble fingers shuffle the worn cards, flipping through them with practiced ease. Stacking them up quickly, he wonders if he should try to impress Yuu with another card trick to gain their enthralled praise.

"Do you…like…being my friend?"

The question makes him blink and look up in surprise at Yuu. It feels blasphemous to hear such doubt lingering in their words.

"Why? Scared I'm gonna ditch ya?" He teases.

Yuu doesn't respond, only giving a sheepish smile back.

"I-It's not like I don't like being friends with you." He tries to keep his cool. "I just-"

Yuu's smile doesn't falter. "It's okay, Ace."

He's reminded of his previous girlfriend in middle school. It was more of a fling than a serious thing, but it's something he remembers vividly. Their breakup, after all, was rather dramatic.

"You're too much, Ace. Sometimes you just take it too far."

What was even her name? Elizabeth? He could barely even remember, but for some reason, he still recalls the intense way her face was twisted in burning resentment. He tried to bury it in the past. He swore he would never fall in love or get into another relationship, preferring friendships over any kind of romantic trysts.

Now that he looks at Yuu, he already knows he's screwed up big time.

Yuu's gaze is no longer meeting his, instead staring into the fireplace that Grim had so generously set up earlier. The crackling blue flames reflect in their irises and in that moment, dread curls inside Ace's stomach. Yuu doesn't seem right.

"Hey…you okay?" He asks hesitantly, placing a hand on their shoulder.

Yuu doesn't move, still staring at the fire intently. He opens his mouth to ask again, but then they speak.

"If I wasn't acting like myself, would you still like me?"

Another question out of left field.

"Even if you somehow grow anemones on your head, Yuu's still Yuu, right?" His heart swells in pride at the way their lips quirk at his inside joke.

"Yeah…" they murmur back.

"Wanna see somethin' cool?" he says, holding out a card. Yuu tilts their head questioningly.

"It's the ace of hearts. What about it?"

"It's not just the ace of hearts!" Ace puffs out his cheeks. "Don't you know the meaning of this card?"

Yuu shakes their head.

"It means good news for yourself or someone close. Practically a lucky charm!" Ace waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "So how can things go wrong now that you have me?"

Yuu snorts and shoves him playfully. "Yeah, yeah, okay, Mr. Lucky Charm."

But it works. The foggy clouds clear from Yuu's eyes, finally returning them to the familiar luster he's used to. For the rest of the night, there is no hint of hollowness within them. And Ace hopes he will never see that sight again.

He should've known something was up since that night.

When Headmaster Crowley personally makes an appearance at their dorm, he should've realized it then. If there was anything that the old raven hated more, it was having to do more work than usual.

"That person wasn't an imposter." Crowley says, coughing awkwardly into his fist.

The solemn words echo in his head on end. The rest of the Headmaster's words start to tune out for Ace. Automatically, his legs begin to move on their own. The calls of the others chase after him, but he ignores them, racing out of the lounge and towards the mirror portal.

Because if you didn't hurt Yuu-

-then what had he done?

When he first arrived in NRC, he didn't even know that Ramshackle dorm existed. Not until Yuu came to reside there; until he had to beg for shelter from them when he was chained with that damn collar. He knew that they didn't have to take him in. But they did, and maybe that's why Ace couldn't turn his back after that.

The building before him is no longer the broken down hovel that he remembers back then. He remembers how the roof was almost caving in and wooden beams were always in danger of collapsing. Each knock on the entrance doors would send cascades of dust upon his head. Now, the walls are painted with a fresh coat of paint, the roof has new shingles, and the place actually looks like a house you could safely live in.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Prefect! Are you there?!" He yells, desperation leaking into his voice. "Please!"

Bang! Bang!

He's gotta be out of his damn mind, acting like some crazy person. But he can't help but be blinded by his fear. So he keeps hitting the door with his fists, praying, hoping, for…well that someone would open the door.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Yuu!!" He screams, and his voice echoes around him, mocking his helplessness. His fists are becoming numb from slamming the wood so hard, but he can't stop himself.

"Yuu–!"

"Oi! Ace!!!" A rough hand on his shoulder shoves him back and before he could knock the souvnabit-

"Ace, look at me!"

He's stopped by Deuce's fists meeting his in an even match of strength. Like an illusion broken, Ace stills and yanks his hands back.

There's only heavy breathing in between them for a long while.

"...they're not here." Ace snaps to look at Deuce, who only closes his eyes in a painful grimace.

"What do you mean, 'not here'?" Ace asks.

Deuce doesn't say anything for a beat.

"What do you mean they're–"

"They're in the infirmary." Deuce's words flow out in a breathless rush. "The Headmaster said that after you ran."

Fuck, he just acted like an idiot then. No wonder no one was responding to his absolute earth shattering door banging and yelling. Then the meaning of Deuce's words begin to sink in. Oh Seven, no–

He turns and before he could even step in the direction of the main building, his arm is yanked back.

He snarls at Deuce. "Let me go! I have to see the prefect!"

"Housewarden is calling you back." Deuce forces out through gritted teeth and closed eyes. "The Headmaster said that…they don't want to see anyone."

And like a fire put out, Ace's anger chokes to flickering embers.

He lets Deuce guide him back, all the way from the Ramshackle dorm, to the mirror portal, and then back to Heartslabyul's lounge where the other three are grimly awaiting them.

Ace half expects to be yelled at once he passes the threshold. Or get some kind of lecture on how he should have better manners than to just run off like that. It would've been just like his housewarden to only care about weird, arbitrary rules when there were other arguably more important matters.

But his housewarden sits silently on his gilded velvet throne with glassy eyes. There's no anger burning behind them, and the freshmen are terrified to see their once proud and fearsome queen reduced to this husk. He almost would rather him back to the state where he was barking out orders for them. The silence in the lounge is deafening.

Ace swears they must be all thinking the same thing.

Please let this be a bad dream.

He tried calling you. Texting you. Hell, he even tried messaging you on Magicam! Magicam, of all things!

Anxiety claws at his heart with each unread message and dial voice tone greeting. He has so much to say, to ask for-

Deuce wasn't faring well on his side either. He had also tried calling and texting you, to no avail. Grim, that traitor, hadn't come back to visit Heartslabyul at all since the incident. Never mind the fact he had only himself to blame for that—he thought at the very least the cat direbeast would have some sense of pity for their friendship and throw them a bone.

Ace tried two more times to meet you.

First, during your infirmary stay, when you were still unconscious.

The second time was when you returned to Ramshackle dorm with Grim.

Maybe the Seven were punishing him for his hubris. Or he supposes this is just karma. Because both times, he fails spectacularly at the front door of Heartslabyul. Because of this, he's the reason why Riddle had put them all on house arrest (with the exception of academic reasons, of course).

It's a declaration that would've been met with mutiny from all of them, if it weren't for the fact that even Headmaster Crowley had explicitly forbade anyone from showing up on Ramshackle's doorstep or trying to meet you. So he understands. Really! He does. He's seen how Riddle holes up in his room, muttering to himself while carrying out boxes upon boxes of crumpled paper. When he manages to snag a stray paper that flutters out on garbage day, Ace realizes that Riddle is also just as frenzied trying to reach out to you. Even if he is going about it in an old fashioned way.

He'll chip in to help. If his housewarden is left to his own devices, they’ll all be fossils by the time he sends what he deems a satisfactory letter.

And the faster they do this, the faster they have a chance of reaching you.

vii. Embalming

The most horrifying thing is that it doesn't seem to care about dying.

That cursed pile of ceramic shards had disappeared—no, pieced itself back together—and once again, it became the smiling face of Yuu, the being they all knew and used to adore.

Riddle Rosehearts immediately smashed it to pieces again under the weight of his magic.

No one had tried to stop their housewarden. Not even the faceless mobs. Even if they were all alarmed at the erratic behavior of their housewarden, they could not deny the fear of seeing something dead come back alive. With not so much as a dent or wound in them, for that matter.

The third time it happened, Riddle ordered for the remains to be dumped into the school’s incinerator at the highest heat level. Surely, that would be enough.

He watched as the incinerator roared and shuddered, shaking as if the pits of hell had opened. After a few agonizing minutes, the rumbling stops, and before he can even breathe a sigh of relief, the iron hatches creak open, and out strolls Yuu, perfectly fine and pieced together again.

It's magic. Or some kind of century old curse. Of course it is. After all, it was at a higher power than even Draconia's comprehension. Why he didn't consider the possibility beforehand is something he berates himself now.

What might be the most damning thing is that it has no fear or suspicion in its face; even after the multiple times it’s been maimed and torn apart. Not like you, who immediately closed themselves off at being hurt so thoroughly.

The irony isn't lost on him. The temptation of letting the puppet take its place back in favor of just bringing everything back to how it was is something Riddle could not deny. But now that he's actually met you, Yuu just seems more of a shadow of what he remembers during your interactions together.

It has your face. It acts like you.

But it's not you.

When Ace asks after the commotion at the Unbirthday party on how he was able to figure out that it wasn’t [First], he had to take a moment to gather his thoughts. Ace’s face changes into something of disbelief when Riddle merely replies with: “[First] takes their tea with two sugars and a dash of milk.”

“You were so sure only because of that?”

He doesn’t want to think what Ace’s face would look like if he had explained his whole list of reasons how he realized that the puppet wasn’t you. How he soaked up as much as he could when you came over for the tea party. Your expressions, your little habits, the way you fidget…it was all filed away in Riddle's head and later, his private notebook.

But that doesn’t matter now. Now, there’s an even bigger problem than the puppet resurrecting itself.

Grim is missing again.

This alone should've been more worrying than anything for Yuu, but it merely shrugs and says it’s not sure where he scampered off to. He's more than suspicious, of course, but there is no proof, which is infuriating already.

But without Grim, they are missing the key to finding [First].

The others raise hell once they hear the news Riddle reports at the weekly housewarden meeting. A new wave of tension washes over NRC and with it, an unprecedented deep disdain for the puppet. It returns back to classes unannounced, making Ace and Deuce rant to him about how weird it is that it’s trying so hard to act like nothing had happened. It attends school events with their camera, drumming up conversations like normal between all of them; despite the fact it gets ignorance or violence in response (depending on the person it greets).

But none of them are really sure on how to interact with Yuu.

The nicer ones, like Trey or Deuce, entertain Yuu with frigidly civil responses, in hopes of boring the puppet and making it flit away to another victim. Meanwhile, he and Ace have finally come together on an agreed opinion: that they would rather die before letting the puppet even think it could take [First]’s place.

“Go away.”

Yuu merely smiles in response to Riddle’s annoyed voice. The puppet leisurely lounges in the chair across the table from him. The school library is vast but empty, his authoritative voice echoing down the long halls. Several floating books flit past above their heads and the chandeliers above flicker with bright candlelight.

“I just wanted to keep you company.” Riddle purses his mouth in disgust. It’s invasive, it’s gross, and most of all it feels wrong to hear those words coming from Yuu.

“I didn’t ask for your company,” he replies coldly. “Shouldn’t you know that it’s bad manners to bother someone who wants to be left alone?”

“I don’t think you like being left alone, Riddle.” He flinches at the way Yuu’s eyes bore into him. “Well, then again, you sure like to pretend you’re fine, don’t you?”

His hand tightens around the textbook he’s reading about cursed dolls. There would be no point if he brought out his magical pen and reduced it to rubble. But he is tempted, if only to get some peace and quiet for just a few minutes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Riddle says.

“Hmm…” Yuu hums into its hand, “...then I suppose I will just let you be. What a shame, I had something entertaining to tell.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Yuu giggles and waves him off. “No, no! You said you didn’t want my company now. Why should I tell you anything?”

He resists the urge to incinerate the book in his hands. “Fine! I would like your company. What is this ‘entertaining’ thing you want to tell me so badly?”

“Hmm…how insincere,” Yuu tilts its head coyly with a smile more akin to a smirk. “But I guess that’s the most I can get.”

“Since you’ve all been driving yourselves crazy, [First] is safe.” The floor feels like it’s been yanked underneath him. The puppet is smiling still, as if it’s all some big joke rather than the revelation it delivered. He can hear his blood roaring through his ears.

“You…” Riddle snarls, face heating into a bright red rage. “What did you do to them?”

It bursts into laughter at his face.

“Why, I only granted their wish!”

Its laughter is cut short by the sound of ceramic being crushed, and Riddle is left shakily breathing at the pile of shards that used to be Yuu. The puppet’s words churn over and over in his head.

What did you wish for?

It is currently 3:20 on a Wednesday afternoon.

In his planner, the bullet point neatly penned on the schedule shows ‘Studying for History Test’ in bold blue ink for the time slot. ‘History of the Queendom of Roses’ is laid open on his desk, to the chapter about the local mythos of the area, just as he intended. His notes from lecture are next to it, with several of his stationary needed to jot down annotations.

And yet, Riddle has yet to touch any of these items or actually adhere to his daily schedule—he’s too distracted by what he should do in order to reach the player.

Riddle's already embarrassed enough, resorting to handwritten letters with the best calligraphy he can muster. He's sent only a couple that passed his satisfaction, and they have all been met with judgemental silence. He’s hunched over another crumpled letter near ripping his hair out when someone knocks on his bedroom door. He quickly shoves the envelope under some textbooks out of frantic instinct.

“Come in.”

A familiar bob of red orange hair pops out behind his door, and Riddle raises an eyebrow at the underclassman who enters.

“Ace? What is it?” Normally, Ace would never be in his room if he could help it. If he was in Riddle’s room, it most likely meant he was either being scolded or punished. And Ace’s eyes are shifting side to side, as if he was trying to sneak his way in.

“Out with it, Ace.” He’s not in the mood for the underclassman’s shenanigans.

“Housewarden, you’re writing letters to the prefect, aren’t ya?” The question completely takes him off-guard sputtering.

“W-What does t-that have to do with you?” He tries to maintain his composure, but Ace is already giving him a smug smirk for the one up on him. Of all people, it had to be him finding out.

"I had an idea, Housewarden. Why don't we send them something with the letter?" Riddle blinks in surprise.

“...How smart of you for once, Ace.” It was so simple, yet he marvels at the idea's brilliance. Perhaps there was merit in trying this proposal.

“Hey! What the hell does that mean?!” His underclassman snaps back in a huff. “Whatever, point being, maybe we should switch it up instead of letters all the time.”

He crosses his arms, “And what do you suggest? There’s not much we can really send that hasn't been sent already by other dorms.”

Ace winces. Clearly he didn’t think about the other dorms with more affluent people; people who had more than enough thaumarks and prestige to spend it to appeal to you. Riddle can't blame him either: although he is at the top of the school and his parents are well known mages, it's not like any of that could help him here. All of them, in a sense, were stuck in that situation.

For once, he starts to resent not having more.

"Ugh, well…maybe it doesn't need to be so fancy, you know?" Ace rubs his neck, face scrunched in frustration. "Like…uh…you know-flowers! People send flowers all the time, yeah?"

This is true. And for Queendom of Roses’ residents, it has become custom to send bouquets with subtle messages left in petals and stems. Although he is a bit loath to admit that he isn’t as well versed in the language of flowers compared to hedgehogs.

"And what do you recommend, Ace?" He asks. "What would be the best flower to send to the prefect in our circumstance?"

"We got all these roses, why not send them that?" Ace responds, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Riddle coughs in annoyance.

"Why not just procure some from Sam's shop? Today is Wednesday. Do you not remember rule 228?" He chides. Ace groans, rolling his eyes.

"Not the weird rules again…"

"Ace."

"Yeeesss Housewarden…" The card soldier mock salutes with a deadpan expression. "I'll see if we can get some flowers at Sam's."

"You better, or else it's–"

"-off with my head, I got it, I got it." Riddle seethes as Ace cuts him off and dashes out of his room before he could get another word in. So troublesome…

Still, there's nothing to do except wait for his card soldier to report back. He turns back to his desk, bringing out the crumpled letter from its hiding place. Running a hand over the crumpled pages, he attempts to pick up his pen again, but fails as his thoughts begin to wander.

Riddle only manages to pen a couple legible sentences when his door slams open, banging against the wall. He almost falls out of his chair in shock from the loud noise. How was Ace back so quickly?

"Have you not heard of knocking?!" He scowls, turning around to see Ace panting and sweating as if he had run a marathon.

"Never mind that, Housewarden, I saw them!" Ace shouts.

“What are you jabbering…” Riddle trails off in realization. “You better not be horsing around, Ace.”

“Do you think I would lie to you about this?” Ace retorts frantically. “I saw them at Sam’s shop working the cashier!”

For a moment, his mind races with this information. If you were working at Sam’s shop, it would explain why you weren’t showing up to classes, let alone in the hallways or rooms of NRC. It’s a clever ruse—classes may be over during this time of day, but nearly all of them were participating in mandatory club activities or study labs. No wonder no one else has caught on to this. Riddle rubs his chin in thought, settling back in his chair.

“What are you going to do now, Housewarden Riddle?” Ace asks hesitantly. His eyes are filled with some kind of anticipation and hope, no doubt wondering if he could get some leeway in his own agenda. Normally, he would go right away as there was no need to hesitate about these kinds of things.

But. Crowley’s stern announcement comes back to his mind and guilt starts to creep in.

“First, we’ll go with your idea, Ace.” He responds. “The ban hasn’t been lifted, after all.” Ace opens his mouth to protest, but he holds a hand up to interrupt him.

“But if that doesn’t work, then I’m sure even Crowley can’t say anything about coincidences.”

viii. Calling Hours

“I’m not joking around, you two.”

There’s very few times that the vice housewarden of Heartslabyul gets truly mad. His patience seems boundless, honed by years of taking care of younger siblings at home and then dealing with rowdy underclassmen in NRC. But even his saint-like patience could only stretch so far.

“I told you, we didn’t do it!” Ace scowls with furrowed eyebrows and crossed arms. Meanwhile, Deuce is silent by his side, face twisted with conflicting emotions. “You don’t even have proof! You just singled us out just because!”

“Who else was around the kitchen when I left it?” Trey asks, voice starting to rise in anger. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you two lurking around before?”

The two freshmen began to speak out, voices rambling over each other and cascading into a loud shouting match that was barely intelligible.

“We just wanted to see if we could get something from the fridge, how were we supposed to know someone would-”

“Me and Ace just wanted to bring something along when we deliver the Housewarden’s invitation to-”

"You dumbass, don't just say that out loud-!"

It’s at this moment that Cater Diamond strolls in, takes one look at the mess of the situation and does a 180 back round to the door. But it’s too late, because the interruption is just enough for Ace to sink his hooks into him.

“Cater-senpai, you believe us, right?” Ace shouts after the orange head, making him flinch in place. “You saw us get the order from Housewarden Riddle!”

Cater turns around slowly like a door on rusty hinges, with an expression that screams of not wanting to be involved. "Oh Acey! Uhm, you mean the letter Riddle gave you two-"

"Yes!" Deuce interrupts in earnest, already trying to barrel his way to proving his innocence. "Housewarden Riddle entrusted us to deliver the tea party invitation ourselves personally."

Cater turns to Trey, who is rubbing the bridge of his nose, eyes closed with a tiredness that seems comically reminiscent of an old man. "Well, I'm not sure what this is all about, Trey, but maybe you should cut 'em some slack and let it go."

The other senior nods in reluctant agreement and the two freshmen all but nearly trample over each other trying to run from the tension filled room. But they're stopped in their tracks when Trey calls out again.

"Wait, you two." The duo slowly looks back with cautious eyes.

"You wanted to bring something to the prefect, didn't you?" Trey tilts his head to one of the many strange topsy turvey cabinets in the kitchen. "I have some leftover cookies that I made yesterday. Take them. I'm sorry for accusing you guys like that."

Ace and Deuce exchange confused glances, and although Ace looks away in denial, Deuce nods in gratitude. They leave the kitchen just as chaotically, this time with the aroma of lavender following them.

A brief silence follows their absence, while Cater raises an eyebrow at Trey.

"Sooo…care to spill the tea?"

"Don't even start." Trey groans.

Cater seats himself on one of the stools near the counter, waiting. Trey busies himself with cleaning the stoves and counter, trying not to meet Cater's eyes. Silence falls, but it's with none of the comfort that Cater is familiar with. Giving up, he turns to his phone, refreshing his Magicam dash mindlessly. This continues for a good while until finally—

A low sigh, then– "Somebody took my candied violets."

Cater looks up from his phone. Another beat passes, and he realizes it's not a passing statement.

"It's not like you to get this bent out of shape over your ingredients going MIA." Cater shifts his face onto the elbow meeting pristine marble while shoving his phone away. "You sure that one of the froshes didn't just end up taking them thinking they were for everyone?"

Trey lets out a rough guffaw. "You know better than I do that the others don't touch our stuff."

Cater taps his fingers on the polished white granite, hands already itching to grab his phone and check for updates, but he restrains himself. "That's…mostly true."

"That can only mean one of you guys has taken it." The hairs on Cater's neck raise at Trey's tone.

"Hey now," Cater grins, raising his hands in mock surrender, "you heard it from those two. I was with Riddle when he gave them that invitation."

"I know." Cater's fingers twitch as Trey carelessly tossed aside the rag used to clean the counter into a bucket. The soggy fabric makes a hollow sound against the wood, echoing rather loudly in contrast. "But Riddle would never do such a thing either."

Cater resists the urge to roll his eyes. It's true that their cute housewarden would hardly dare to stoop to thievery, but Trey's blind faith in him can be annoying at times. After all, didn't their little teapot tyrant threaten to kill the prefect at one point?

He supposes that was his fault, though.

"Then it's back to square one." Cater shrugs. "Besides, what were you even planning to do with them if you weren't gonna eat it?"

The baker runs a hand through his mussed forest green hair and frowns. "I was going to bake a cake with them as a peace offering to the prefect."

Cater's mouth forms an 'o' shape in realization. "That's pretty big brain."

"Yeah, but look how that turned out."

"It's fine~you were able to at least send cookies this time round." Cater finally cracks, digging into his pocket for the familiar grooves of his phone case. "All's well that ends well, right?"

Trey doesn't respond and Cater is too engrossed in his phone to look up to see his expression. He slides off the stool naturally, tapping through recent posts and comments, eyes laser focused on recent posts on his dash.

"Cater."

There it is. It's the most recent story reel by Ace(according to the time stamp, about two minutes ago). It's an inconspicuous black out picture with several cute teapot and teacup stickers decorating the screen. The banner message is short and sweet: 'Dorm tea party bout to get real this month 🤔😶'

"Cater." Cater's attention snaps back and towards his friend, who gazes at him with dark eyes.

"Please don't lie to me next time."

With that, Cater watches as his long time friend finally leaves the kitchen.

Thank the Seven he did. He might have been a decent actor, but Trey has been with him through thick and thin, and it's given him the annoying ability to see through his tells.

Really now. Trey knows that he hates sweets. Shouldn't that be enough of an alibi?

It's not fair that Trey already has everything to set him up for a good relationship with you. Even if they're all set back by their violent reaction to you arriving in this world, he's sure it would only take a couple tries with Trey offering genuine heartfelt food to get to you.

It's just not fair.

Isn't he fun to hang out with? He consistently gets compliments online for his suave looks and easy personality. So why couldn't he compare to-

He shakes his head. There's no point in overthinking it now. Cay Cay #3 had easily taken the cutely decorated jar of violets and discarded it in the dorm dumpster. Like candy from a baby.

He knows it's petty. But for once, he feels much better, knowing that he upset Trey's original plans to ensnare you.

Now, he once again checks Ace's story reel and screenshots it, while quickly pulling up the search bar. He just needs to level the playing field.

There can only be one fake bitch in this house and Cater has had enough of the competition.

“I wasn’t aware that you were going to visit me, Cater.”

The puppet tilts its head with a warm smile, but there’s a frosty undercurrent to the greeting. It’s clear that he’s not welcome, if the way it’s blocking the doorway of Ramshackle has anything to say.

“Yeah, I ended up losing something here. You mind if I look for it, Yuu-chan?” Cater asks innocently. “Promise it won’t take too long.”

“Hm, sure. But I don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for.” Yuu's grin is sharp as a razor blade. It knows what he’s here for and it’s definitely taunting him. That little–

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to look~” He responds back airily. His fist curls around his phone in his pocket tightly. The puppet shrugs and walks off, leaving him standing in the doorway.

It’s been a while since he’s personally been at Ramshackle dorm. Cater remembers how Ace complained about the house being a real fixer upper, but then again, he doesn’t remember much of that, since Yuu always spent most of the time at Heartslabyul dorm. The renovations certainly made it much more pleasing to the eye and more importantly, livable by HOA standards.

There’s nothing to write home about the living room. The coffee table is bare and there’s no wrinkles in the sofa cushions at all. It’s a little eerie—as if no one even lived in the house in the first place. The only sign of living was perhaps the fact it is clean of dust or dirt.

Nothing in the kitchen either. He gives a wayward glance to the second floor, searching for any signs of movement. Couldn’t hurt to be thorough.

Rows of tall doors pass by as Cater opens each one of them. A storage closet, a spare room, an electric cabinet, another storage area–it all blurs by after the fourth door. There really is nothing, as if the whole house has been wiped of any trace of you. He's about to toss in the towel when an old, dusty memory crops up. His little freshman, Ace. Cater swears he had been making fun of Yuu for seeing strange things at night. Something about a mouse?

Right, their room! Why didn't he think of looking there?

His feet take him rapidly from memory to the door that was the third from last in the hallway in the east wing. He manages to wrench the door open to see a regular bedroom, bed sheets barely stirred. Before he can even put one foot in, a throat clears behind him.

"It's rather rude to go into other people's bedrooms, don't you think?"

You got to be kidding me. Cater turns around with the fakest smile plastered across his face. Yuu looks unamused, tapping its foot impatiently against the wooden floorboards.

"Just wanted to make sure, y'know?" Cater replies. Yuu gives a tight smile back. It goes around him and shuts the door with a hard thunk.

"Ever heard about how curiosity killed the cat?"

Cater shakes his head in surrender, "I guess I need to look elsewhere for my lost item."

The entrance doors slam shut behind him hard enough to startle several birds out the dead trees in the yard. Cater doesn't bother giving a look back as he strides out of the yard and past the gated fence surrounding the property. That glimpse was enough and much more. Cater smirks to himself, taking his phone out and sending a quick text message to the group chat. Yes, curiosity may have killed the poor kitty cat…

But satisfaction brought it back.

viiii. Eulogy

It might surprise people to know that Trey Clover's first real friend is Che'nya Pinker.

That's not to say that Trey had trouble getting along with others as a kid, oh no. Everyone in his neighborhood agreed that he was a very sweet boy, who looked out for others around him. When he wasn’t taking care of his baby sister, he would be asked by other parents around the block to look after their own children, whether that be playing soccer games with the more energetic kids or patty cakes with the quiet ones. So it isn’t a stretch to say that he’s friends with nearly everyone. But Che’nya was a special case.

Their first meeting is still burned into Trey’s memory.

“You see it too, don’cha?” The boy had greeted him while swinging upside down on a low hanging tree branch. Trey had half a mind to scold him for the dangerous action before he actually looked at him.

The first thing that takes Trey off guard is that he has eyes. They’re a shiny yellow, just a shade lighter than his. His pupils are long and thin, not round like his at all. He supposes it must be like a cat’s pupils—for he’s never seen anything like it. Then it’s his unique colorful hair, streaks of light pink intermingling with dark purple, making a strange striped pattern across the chopped uneven hair. Trey faintly recalls a certain cat from their local legends, whose fur boasted those very same colors.

“...What are you talking about?” Trey eyes him warily. The cat boy gives a cheeky grin. He vanishes and then reappears in front of him, albeit with missing arms.

“The people around us who wear the faces of strangers.” Trey’s skin gets goosebumps at the way the boy observes him. He is not looking through Trey, but at him. Their eyes are directly making contact. “But you’re different. You have the face of a friend.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Trey furrows his eyebrows. The boy's grin stretches wider in response. (His teeth were rather blunter than expected, but his canines were pointed.)

“You’re strange. I’m stranger. Together, we can both be strange,” the cat boy chirps back lightheartedly. “The name’s Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker. But you can just call me Che’nya.”

Something in his mind had clicked then. It’s hard to explain the feeling–just that it felt like a puzzle piece put into place. He hadn’t known it then, but at that point, the hands of fate had moved.

Whatever the case may be, Trey was grateful to have Che’nya. Because now he knows that he isn’t crazy; not when he couldn’t see his parent’s faces nor his baby sister’s or even his other friends'. Che’nya too, only shrugs his shoulders when Trey asks him about his grandfather.

“The old man? Yeah, they say I have his eyes, but I wouldn’t know.” The statement is so casually delivered that Trey can hardly believe he’s talking about his only living relative and guardian. “His face does not mirror mine in my mind.”

Staring down at you, shivering with cold and hunger, he feels something churn in him again, just like that fateful day.

He has his orders from Riddle: bring in the imposter alive. Trey isn’t a violent sort and nor does he enjoy boasting his strength over others like a sadist. And he cannot deny the feeling of cold rage that day when Yuu shuts down, fear inundating him that he may never, ever, get an explanation for the world he was born in. Why he and Che’nya were special, why he had to witness Riddle suffer under his mother–what was it all for?

Your face. There is no blank stretched skin—he can see your wide open eyes, bloodshot and fixated on him. Your mouth too, shaped in a pained grimace, lips bruised and bloodied from previous skirmishes. Surely, surely, there must be a reason why you were here. Why you bear the same face as Yuu. You hold all the answers, if you would just cooperate.

“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Trey tries reaching out, but you scurry back into the hedges, squinted eyes wary and untrusting. You remind him of a frightened hedgehog, prickly spines bristled and body curled in to protect yourself. “I just wanna talk.”

“Go away, please,” the imposter quietly pleads. “Just pretend you never saw me! I swear I didn’t even know how I got here…”

Trey swallows hard.

“Just come quietly. Please.” He is the one begging now. “It’ll be easier for all of us.”

“For who?” The imposter barks a sharp laugh. Trey doesn't miss the way they wince in pain from their wounds. “For me? Or for you?”

He doesn’t have an answer. The sound of running footsteps has him turning, and when he looks back, you’re already gone. The only traces that you were there at all were faint splotches of red blood and crushed grass.

Trey wonders if this, too, was meant to be fate.

—

Trey’s been lovingly dubbed as someone reliable. Some consider him to be an older brother figure due to his nagging and supportive care. It's ingrained in him at this point from the years he’s spent playing babysitter. Trey knows the students around him are not his younger siblings who need constant watching (although their actions say otherwise).

But he worries.

Just a bit. Trey knows better than anyone that you can take care of yourself just fine. He's seen how you carry yourself within those hedges.

It's just that, he doesn't know if you're okay right now. How could he know? You've been silent even in the face of Riddle's unceasing letters. So of course he's just a bit unsure if you're actually okay, or if you don't trust them enough to say so.

Trey finds himself more frustrated with the ban they're under. Not because of the inability to see you, although that is part of it. No, it's because Riddle has managed to skirt around that rule to desperately grab onto you, and that was just enough to wear you down.

He thinks if he was bold enough, he could've tried.

As if it wasn't enough, even Ace and Deuce find their own way to get to you, snatching up the chance to deliver the monthly tea party invitation. It takes everything in Trey to clench his teeth and let go—even when Cater ruins his plans. He can't get mad here because it won't get him any closer to you. He has to be the bigger person.

If there is one thing Trey knows about Cater, it's that he absolutely hates getting sweaty or dirty. If Cater wasn’t trying to get out of running those P.E laps, he would absolutely be shirking any extra work assigned. So he's more than suspicious when Cater bounces up to him with a grin saying he could help cover Trey's science club duty of watering plants.

Trey likes to think he can tell when Cater’s lying. His close friend's happy go lucky demeanor often throws off others, but he’s been with him long enough to pick out his subtle tells. His eyebrow twitches when he’s particularly anxious and the corner of his mouth tends to perk up if he’s feeling particularly daring or desperate. Trey figures this must be something that even he can’t trust Trey with, if he’s going out of his way to take on extra work.

So Trey considers this repayment for letting him take his violets. He watches as Cater dashes off in labwear, waiting for a minute, before following after him. His duty was in the tropical zone of the botanical garden, so he has no worries even if he does lose him.

He nearly does a double take when he sees you walking in the courtyard hallways by yourself. And before Trey could rethink his actions, he follows behind you, eyes not leaving your form for a minute.

You look like you haven't slept well. There's dark circles under your eyes. He hopes you're brushing your teeth. There’s no signs of bandages or wounds that he remembers you in, which he supposes is one relief. Even if he so desperately wishes to cook you a proper meal—you look like you could fall over at any minute.

The realization your path is leading to the botanical garden comes just as Trey catches sight of the glass dome. He wants to rush in after you, but he stops himself just as the door swings close behind your form.

Cater is in there. It all makes sense now. Trey has to give it to him—Cater really does know every little happening in the school. But Trey knows him well too—and if he had to guess, even if Cater manages to talk to you, it won’t end pretty. His inability to be genuine will definitely only set you on edge and less likely to reciprocate.

The waiting game he plays is nothing compared to the silence he had to endure before. Trey doesn’t have to look to know that you’re the one slamming open the doors to the botanical gardens, labwear dirtied and face twisted in a frustrated anger. He watches as you enter Professor Crewel’s office again and after some time, pop back out in completely different clothes.

His chest tightens in longing as he continues to follow after (more from an instinctual drive now, rather than deliberate), trying to keep you in sight within the stone pillars. He wants to call out after you so badly and ask you what’s the matter, if you need help with anything. If there was anything he could do to make you forgive him for watching you bleed out on dewy grass. The sun is about to set, warm golden rays flickering between pillars and casting long shadows. Trey’s so enamored with following after you that he flinches back when the sun directly shines into his eyes, blinding him momentarily.

He barely manages to get a hold of himself. By the time his eyes blink away the blurry blots, he realizes you’re looking back at him. His breath stops. Your eyes are wide and frightened as they are that day, and his heart drops to his stomach. Both of you don’t move, merely staring at each other.

You finally break the connection, turning around and quickly walking away. Trey gasps, remembering to breathe, lungs screaming for air.

What was that?

x. Entombment

It's a nice sunny afternoon in the Heartslabyul domain. There weren't any track club activities nor dreaded remedial lessons. If anything, this free time would have been perfect for a nap. He hadn’t been up to any large shenanigans like this since the whole fiasco of [First] and Yuu.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Ace scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You got a better one, loosey Deucy? If we don’t do this now, then all of us are stuck until Housewarden grows a pair of balls.”

Deuce Spade bites his lips. “I just think there might be a better way around this.”

“Yeah? And the sky is blue. Keep going, we don't have much time." Ace cranes his neck to the side of the bush, eyes warily looking out to make sure the coast is clear.

Deuce grumbles but continues plucking, some roses already tucked within his arms. They chose a bush the furthest away from the dorm, in a hidden corner where no arched windows could overlook them. It was necessary, because today was Wednesday, and the Housewarden would have their heads for plucking his beloved roses out of all the flora.

His fingers are bleeding already, finger pads torn from repetitive tugging on the thorns and stems. They couldn’t afford taking any of the gardening tools, lest they be questioned for what they were doing with them. Still, even he had his limits.

“Why is it that you aren’t helping at all?” Deuce snipes at Ace, who scowls back.

“You want to be caught by someone, genius?” Ace replies snarkily. “Someone has to keep look out.”

“Doesn’t explain why I have to do all the work.”

Ace rolls his eyes, deigning not to bother engaging in another futile argument that would lead to nowhere. Deuce is about to cut off a particularly stubborn rose when Ace pipes up again.

“...Did they ever respond to your texts?” Deuce only deflates in response. Ace’s mouth slants crookedly in an annoyed grimace. The two of them know full well what the answer to that was.

“Damn that cat…” Ace mutters bitterly under his breath. Deuce doesn’t say anything. He too, is finding it hard to not feel petty towards Grim right now. Weren’t they friends? He could’ve afforded to help them out somehow. But it’s no use. Their texts went unanswered. Headmaster had banned them from stepping foot onto Ramshackle grounds. It’s like you had closed everything off from them.

It’s why he doesn’t protest this plan, as reckless as it is. He’s not any better than Ace—he needs to see you. He and Ace were your closest friends, your first friends! He loved you. That had to mean something. If it didn’t, then…

“I think this is enough.” Deuce adjusts the messy bouquet in his hands, attempting to hold them without crushing the delicate petals. Ace looks over and nods in approval. He takes out crimson ribbons and a silk handkerchief and begins tying it around the stems in a very artful way that has Deuce’s eyebrows raising.

“Where did you get that?” Ace smirks in response at the interrogative question.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ace snatches the bouquet from his hands and slips in an envelope with the housewarden’s seal. Deuce silences the questions on the tip of his tongue. For whatever Ace has planned, he’s rather not know anything more troublesome than necesscary.

What he failed to account for was getting caught. Housewarden Riddle was beyond furious for what they did. It was only by Trey and Cater's gentle reminders that what they did was for all of them, that he only calmed down.

Deuce supposes three days with the collar is better than a week. Even if it is a heavy thing that weighs on his very soul.

He only hopes that you don't notice the thorns they forgot to trim.

—

It’s a given that although Trey is the right hand of Heartslabyul, Cater is considered the left hand of Housewarden Riddle. It’s been that way since Deuce himself enrolled in NRC, and possibly even further back. He hadn’t understood it quite then, but after some time, he realized something that he should’ve realized a long time ago.

To never get on Cater’s bad side.

There are events where the five of them gather outside of Yuu’s influence. Administrative meetings, monthly tea parties, and the occasional casual hang out. When you’re aware of how much of your life is affected from being not like the others, it’s common to side with those who are like you.

Cater had called the meeting this time. It was a bit out of the blue, at least for him and Ace. It’s only when they’re all gathered around the playing table in the lounge, not another soul in sight, when Deuce realizes Cater has that gleam in his eye. One that screams that he got a viral lead on a hot topic. His upperclassman must have been investigating.

"Remember how mirrors are considered to be portals?"

Deuce's neck prickles.

"Your point, Cater?" Their housewarden is impatient, not aware of what the question poses. His arms are crossed with his eyebrows furrowed in a frustrated glare. Deuce realizes that he must have been the one to send out Cater.

"There's a mirror in the prefect's bedroom." Deuce blurts out, and Riddle’s steely eyes snap over in surprise. Cater nods in affirmation.

"Yeah. I only managed a glimpse, but Yuu covered their mirror." Cater says.

“Hold on, you went into the prefect’s bedroom? Scratch that, to Ramshackle?” Ace asks. “Why are we just getting this now?”

“Because I just came back Acey,” Cater flicks his forehead, causing Ace to exclaim in pain. Trey smiles faintly at the action. “Also Riddle told me to keep it confidential—you two would have ran straight out if we had told you.”

Deuce sheepishly rubs his neck at Cater’s pointed sentence. Riddle rubs his chin in thoughtfulness, eyebrows still furrowed.

“But there isn’t anything magical about that mirror, is there?” Riddle asks, skepticism coating his tone. “The puppet could have simply covered that mirror out of an odd preference.”

“Acey, didn’t you mention that Yuu always mentioned seeing things in that mirror?” Cater responds, deflecting the question upon his underclassmen. Ace straightens as he and Deuce both exchange a glance.

“Yeah…something about a mouse in their mirror,” Ace answers slowly, face scrunched in an effort to recall memories. “I always thought it was just crazy dreams but…”

“Yuu was always insisting about it,” Deuce chimes in. “Said the mouse speaks to them and everything—that there was another world it was in.”

Trey and Cater share a furtive glance together before looking at Riddle. Their housewarden seems to be taking in the new information, closing his eyes in thought. For a while, no one dares to speak.

“What do you think, Riddle?” Trey finally breaks the heavy silence, and Deuce breathlessly releases a sigh. Leave it to Trey to speak for all of them.

“If the mirror in the bedroom is magical, then that changes things.” Riddle pronounces with conviction. “If that mirror potentially holds a dimension, then that would be the perfect place to trap someone.”

“Cater.” The orange head straightens to attention at the stern command. “Find a way to get the puppet out of the dorm for a while. We’ll need to look into this ourselves.”

Cater smirks and a chill runs down Deuce’s spine. While Cater still has an easy going look, his jade green eyes have darkened with a sadistic gleam.

“Roger that, housewarden!” His upperclassman chirps, already taking out his phone.

Riddle is already barking orders that each of them are to take up within this mission of theirs. But Deuce nearly misses his task, eyes stuck on Cater’s face as he scrolls his phone.

He catches a glimpse of a photo before it’s quickly clicked away. Deuce snaps back to Riddle just in time for Cater to shoot him a wary glare, checking to make sure no one else was looking.

Deuce is very glad he is working together with Cater.

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #my works #damn this is the most ive ever written.....insane

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radfemsiren · 24 days ago

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Hey. So I'm here caught in the crossfire.

I'm 16F studying for an exam and I really like a teacher who isn't physically attractive but I like his humor and wit.

I am a febfem and a radfem seperatist and don't plan on dating men (gone 4B). But I have got this weird fantasy of hooking up with and being in a relatioship (ofc after I turn 18).

I have been obsessed with this guy. I literally can't focus on my exams. What I even fantasise is having an affair with him (he's married with 2 kids).

I think all men are bad and not worth it but I don't know why I keep fantasising about him all day.

I even put him on a pedestal (i don't usually put men on pedestal).

Please help me with this

PS : If you have seen this anon pop on other radfem accounts please just know I quickly want answers. I'm not spam.

lol girl, first of all, it’s very normal for a teenager to have a crush on her teacher. Don’t feel ashamed of your feelings and just know it’s a typical part of growing up. I had a crush on some teachers too. It’s very common because they are the first adults we interact with that are not our family. And kinda similar to how patients often develop crushes on therapists, we also feel encouraged from the guidance they give us, and develop romantic feelings. You’re also going through crazy hormonal changes rn, and every feeling is heightened to the max.

You will outgrow it! Don’t act on anything and just let time pass, you’ll see. Ik you’re reading that and thinking “I absolutely will not outgrow it, she doesn’t understand how deeply in love I feel..” but trust me, I do! I’ve been there. Now that I’m in my early twenties, I look back on my crushes and romances and how dramatic and crazy I felt as a teenager… it’s literally all just the hormones and puberty lol. Trust me, you’re gonna look back and laugh, and think “girl, it was never that serious 🤣”

And btw I don’t say this to try to condescend, I’m just talking to the younger version of myself! I been through it all, trust me! My advice is to keep a journal at this time and write down all your feelings. Your future self is gonna laugh so hard and thank you, and your present self is gonna feel better expressing her emotions and articulating her thoughts. Do it! I wish I journaled my feelings more because the few entries I did do… I’m like, girl, the puberty was goin crazy at this time 😅

#asks

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skateordiebitch · 2 months ago

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Enemies to lovers!Dom and him being in secretly in love with you because I’m a sucker for clichés lol💕

CABIN FEVER || D.F x reader

summary: dominic fike is your childhood best friend turned enemy. every conversation is a recipe for disaster... but, what happens when you guys have to share a room in a cabin for a weekend?

ah yes the enemies to lovers clichè...... love her dearly!!! dominic gives that vibe heavy for some reason LMAO. it was a little too easy to write this. anyways, per usual requests are open and enjoy!

Dominic and you had a rhythm to your rivalry — if you could call it that. It was the kind of relationship where you’d sooner pretend to be total strangers than acknowledge the magnetic, impossible-to-ignore pull between you.

The friends you shared, however, were not blind to this ongoing feud; they thrived on it, watching with half-amused, half-exasperated smiles every time you and Dominic ended up in the same room.

There was a long list of reasons why you couldn’t stand him.

The ego was a big part, for one. He knew he was a big deal and didn’t care who knew it, throwing around his charm like it was a game, getting whatever he wanted without so much as lifting a finger.

And the worst part?

Everyone else seemed to eat it up.

Except you.

You found the arrogance insufferable. It didn’t help that he’d never hesitated to pick you apart, finding flaws and quirks he could tease, always seeming to know exactly how to get under your skin.

If you made a comment about his music career, he’d fire back with a smirk, implying that you could only dream of being so successful.

The mutual friends between you knew better than to let you two share a ride to group outings.

There was one infamous night, when you’d been forced to share an Uber home after a party.

The whole drive was a back-and-forth argument that could have been the script for a rom-com — only there was nothing “romantic” about the way you hurled insults and Dominic rolled his eyes, making jabs about how you were “almost as stubborn as you were clueless.”

It had gotten so heated that the Uber driver had kicked you both out halfway home.

And that became the norm.

Snide remarks, bickering, and a constant battle of who could out-wit the other. It was never kind, never playful. If anything, it felt like every interaction was just barely avoiding a complete explosion.

Your ongoing rivalry with Dominic had become such a given that no one even tried to keep you two apart anymore.

It was easier to just let you both simmer, each party assuming you’d work out your differences — or at least tolerate each other.

But when your mutual friend, Kevin, decided to celebrate his birthday with a weekend trip to the mountains, the room assignments threw a wrench in everyone’s plans.

And there was no doubt that it wasn’t just a ‘coincidence.’

You practically laughed when he said, “You’re with Dominic.” Until you realized he was serious.

“No way,” you protested. “Oh, absolutely not. There’s no way.”

He just raised an eyebrow. “I’m not splitting you guys up at this point. You guys need to learn how to get along.”

“We aren’t five, Kev,” you say in protest, “I just don’t wanna be with… him.”

All Kevin did was laugh in your face, “Tell yourself, that. Maybe some forced time together will make you both act like normal human beings.”

You knew better than to argue when Kevin had that look on his face. That look that said ‘room with him, or don’t come at all.’

So, with no choice but to accept the arrangement, you found yourself sleeping in the same room with the one person you’d much rather avoid.

The cabin itself was beautiful, set against a backdrop of pine trees and snowy mountains. It was the sort of place meant for cozying up, but that idea made you laugh in spite of yourself as you and Dominic entered the small, shared room.

He tossed his bag onto the bed with a dramatic sigh, shooting you a glare. “This has got to be a fucking joke.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” you muttered, already strategizing how you’d manage to avoid him for the next three days.

Unfortunately, there was no escape.

The room was too small, and the cabin was filled with your friends, all of whom seemed to think your bickering was just a “cute quirk.”

You threw your bag on the bed closest to the window, hoping to claim the best spot. Dominic followed suit, watching you like you’d just challenged him to a duel.

“Are you seriously taking the bed by the window?” he scoffed, throwing his own bag onto the other bed. “Typical.”

“Typical?” you echoed, raising a brow. “Oh, that’s rich coming from the guy who has to turn everything into a competition.”

He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the bed frame. “Right, because this is all about me. You’re the one who walked in here like it’s some sort of battleground. But sure, pull the victim card if it makes you feel better.”

“Victim?!” You could practically feel your blood pressure spike. “God, Dominic. You are actually unbelievable!”

“Glad to see I’m still under your skin,” he said with that infuriating smirk, his tone dripping with smugness. He leaned a little closer, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I’ll try not to keep you up too much tonight. You know, since you seem so... affected by my presence.”

You laughed, mirthless. “You really think that highly of yourself, huh? I can’t wait to be so far on the other side of the room I forget you’re even here.”

“Oh, please,” he shot back, feigning hurt. “You’d be bored to death without me around. Admit it. You’re secretly thrilled to have me as your little roommate.”

“In your dreams, Dominic.”

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Funny, because I’m betting I’ll be in yours tonight.”

The weekend had barely started, and you already felt on edge, like you were navigating a minefield.

“Whatever,” You say, unpacking your things.

“Just saying, you know the clichè, right?” Dominic asks, plopping down on his bed.

You shake your head, “What are you even talking about?”

“The clichè— Where the two enemies forced to be together? By the end of it, they’re in love.”

You almost burst out laughing, “You’re delusional, Dom.”

“Everyone knows that’s how this works!”

You nodded your head, “Yeah, it works in books and movies. Not real life, which you seem to not live in, anyways.”

Dominic seemed determined to make this the most unbearable three days of your life, and the worst part was, you couldn’t shake the thrill of it.

—

The first night passed in silence, both of you avoiding eye contact as you got ready for bed.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N. Try not to wake up flustered.”

“Shut up.”

The room was so small that every little movement was noticed, every breath too loud.

You lay on your side, facing the wall, determined to ignore the fact that Dominic was just a few feet away. But in the silence, you could practically feel his presence, that maddening, familiar energy filling the room.

In the morning, things didn’t get any better. You were both tired, and it only took a sideways glance from him to set you off.

“Dominic,” you said, voice laced with warning as you passed him in the kitchen.

“What? I haven’t even said anything,” he replied, but his eyes gleamed with amusement.

“You don’t have to,” you shot back. “Your whole existence is enough to irritate me.”

“Good to know,” he replied, arching a brow, his voice low. “Seems like I’ve made an impact on you.”

The tension was getting thicker, and your friends couldn’t help but notice. They threw each other subtle, knowing looks as if they were all in on some inside joke.

—

By the second night, the snowstorm had hit hard, trapping everyone indoors with no signal and no escape.

You’d never been the kind of person who got easily bored, but being trapped with Dominic had a way of testing your patience.

Somehow, you’d all ended up playing a game of “truth or dare” — though, with Dominic around, it became less of a game and more of an excuse for him to test your limits.

“Truth,” you said, hoping for a harmless question from one of your friends.

But Dominic jumped in, his smirk unmistakable. “What’s one thing you actually like about me?”

You stared at him, momentarily thrown. “No, I’m not answering anything from you.”

Dominic scoffed, “Oh, c’mon, Y/N! That’s not fair, you asked, I answered.”

“No.”

“Yes,” He smirks, “Don’t be like this.”

You rolled your eyes, “Dominic, that’s not even a real question.”

“Oh, yes it is,” he replied, his gaze fixed on you. “And I’m genuinely curious. One good thing, that’s all I ask.”

Your friends laughed, but Dominic’s expression was all challenge. He knew you’d never say anything remotely kind about him — and you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction.

After a moment of silence, you sighed, rolling your eyes. “Fine. I guess you’re… persistent.”

“Persistent?” he echoed, brow raised. “That’s it?”

“That’s all you’re getting,” you replied, shifting uncomfortably under his intense gaze.

The boy groaned, obviously irritated at your answer, “Persistent. Right. That’s just code for ‘annoying,’ isn’t it?”

“Not everything’s about you,” you replied, tone sharp, though the heat from his gaze was already crawling under your skin. “Maybe it’s a compliment. Who knows?”

He chuckled, a low, grating sound. “You? Compliment me? Hell would freeze over before that.”

“Oh, trust me,” you shot back, “I’m regretting saying anything already.”

The game went on, but the room was thick with tension, a charged undercurrent that was impossible to ignore.

Every time Dominic looked your way, you felt it — like a daring challenge, a spark, something that neither of you were willing to acknowledge out loud.

The night dragged on with endless rounds of “truth or dare,” and each turn with Dominic somehow turned up the heat.

He was relentless, always choosing you to ask his questions, each one more infuriating than the last.

“Truth or dare?” he asked for what felt like the hundredth time, his voice smooth as silk, his gaze locked onto yours.

“Truth,” you answered, wary of whatever he’d throw at you next.

“What’s the worst thing about me?” he asked, the corners of his mouth lifting just slightly.

You scoffed, pretending to think. “Where the hell do I start?”

His eyes glinted, a mix of amusement and something darker, something that made your pulse race. “Try me. Hurt my feelings. Make me cry.”

“I’m not gonna make you cry,” You say, watching your friends get really good at being a laugh track.

“So there’s nothing bad about me then, huh? You seem to be avoiding this one.”

“You’re the most egotistical person I have ever met, you never take anything seriously, and you act like everyone’s here for your entertainment.”

Dominic nods his head, “Yeah, sounds about right.” He smirks right at you, “You know me so well…”

Something in you fueled you to keep going. Like this was the weight of his presence being lifted from your shoulders—

“You literally make me nauseous every time you enter the room, because I know we’re just gonna fucking argue. And it’s funny, because at one point— I never wanted to be without you! In fact, I hated every second we were apart!”

The room went silent, as all of your guys’ friends looked around at each other.

You sigh, “Now, it’s impossible for me to even breathe the same air as you. There. Happy?”

For a moment, you thought perhaps that was too much. Too harsh. That it could genuinely upset him.

But instead of being offended, he just grinned wider, leaning in closer. “You really think about me that much, huh? How romantic, Y/N, truly. I’m flattered!”

Your friends let out a collective “ooh,” but all you could focus on was Dominic’s gaze, so intense it was like the rest of the room had disappeared.

“Please,” you muttered, refusing to look away. “As if I’d waste time on that.”

“Waste time on me? Funny, you look pretty worked up for someone who doesn’t care,” he said, leaning back with a smug, self-satisfied look. “Or is this just some dramatic little act of yours?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Oh, I forgot, Mr. Ego here thinks he’s some great mystery worth unraveling.”

“Ouch. Here I was, thinking you’d have at least one nice thing to say about me. Or are you too proud to admit I might actually have some redeeming qualities?”

“Nice things?” You scoffed, narrowing your eyes at him. “Please, I don’t think ‘nice’ and ‘Dominic’ even belong in the same sentence.”

He chuckled, a low, dark laugh that seemed to echo in the space between you. “See, that’s what I like about you, Y/N. Always keeping it real. Just too bad it’s also what makes you insufferable.”

“Insufferable? That’s rich coming from your smug ass.” You shot back, leaning closer, feeling a mix of anger and something else, something you couldn’t quite name.

“Maybe so,” he replied, gaze darkening as he matched your stare. “But at least I’m honest about it… Can you say the same?”

Your friends let out another round of gasps and snickers, but neither of you broke eye contact.

The air was charged, as if neither of you were willing to back down first.

Then, he leaned in a fraction closer, his voice dropping so only you could hear.

“Careful, Y/N. Keep pushing like that, and who knows what you might find out.”

The challenge was there, thick and unspoken, and every nerve in your body seemed to hum with it.

“Trust me, Dom, I don’t need to know anything more than what I already do. And I’m not pushing. I’m pulling away as fast as I can.”

“Oh, really?” His voice was almost a murmur now, but it was edged with something hot and dangerous. “Could’ve fooled me.”

With that, he shot you one last infuriating smirk, leaning back like he hadn’t just raised the stakes, leaving you feeling like the whole room had started spinning.

—

Later that night, after everyone had drifted off to bed, you found yourself in the kitchen, unable to sleep. The quiet felt like a relief — until you heard footsteps, and Dominic appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, leaning against the counter.

You shrugged, pouring yourself a glass of water. “Not with you in the same room.”

He chuckled, but there was an edge to it. “Funny, I was thinking the same thing. I’m sorry, was I making you nauseous?”

“No, I just— I don’t know. I just can’t sleep.”

“Was my ego taking up too much space?” He asked, and it was then you realized. He was bringing up the answers you gave in the stupid game.

Was he actually upset?

Did you actually say things to hurt him?

“Dominic, what are you saying right now?”

For a moment, there was silence, a tension thick enough to cut. Then he surprised you by saying, “You know, that game got me thinking. You’re right, it wasn’t always like this between us.”

You frowned, caught off guard. “Yeah, I’m aware. What’s that supposed to mean?”

He looked down, his expression softening. “I don’t know. Back in high school, I actually thought… Well, I thought we could be something.”

You blinked, too stunned to respond immediately. He’d never been this honest, never even hinted at any real feelings. “What happened to that, then?”

He hesitated, looking out the window. “I don’t know. Things just changed. I was trying to figure myself out, the music was taking off… I guess I thought it’d be easier if I pushed you away.”

“That’s your excuse? Really, Dom?” you asked, anger bubbling up. “You just… gave up? And for what? To become this arrogant, self-absorbed version of yourself?”

“Maybe,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “But, maybe I just didn’t want to get hurt.”

“Did I actually hurt your feelings or something? What’s with you tonight?” You chuckled, wanting to believe that he wasn’t just doing all of this to make him forget about what could have been.

Dominic shrugged, “I mean, I definitely wasn’t expecting the answer you gave me. I don’t know, whatever,” He sighed, “Just forget it. Goodnight.”

He turned around to walk back to the room.

“Dominic—“ You start as he cut you off immediately, “You know what? Just sleep on the couch at this point, if it’s really that big of a deal to sleep in the same room as me.”

“Dom…” You said, with a tone that surprised you. A disappointed tone. Like you were upset… that Dominic seemed upset.

The small admission lingered in the kitchen, raw and vulnerable. And suddenly you realized, for the first time in years, you saw him differently — not as the arrogant musician who’d become a stranger, but as the boy you’d once known, the friend you’d once cared about.

—

The next morning, as everyone packed up their gear to go sledding, you found yourself walking beside Dominic, who seemed uncharacteristically quiet.

The snowstorm had died down, leaving the trees dusted with powder, the air crisp and fresh.

The group had decided on a steep hill for sledding, which quickly proved to be a mistake. One by one, your friends wiped out in spectacular fashion, laughing as they tumbled down the hill.

When it was your turn, Dominic joined you, grabbing a sled and flashing you a grin. “Scared?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Of sledding? Not a chance.”

With a push, the two of you shot down the hill, the sled picking up speed as it zipped over bumps and divots.

For a moment, you felt exhilarated, laughing as the cold wind whipped through your hair. But then the sled veered off course, heading straight for a small tree.

Without thinking, Dominic threw his arm around you, pulling you close as the sled came to a sudden halt. You landed in a heap in the snow, Dominic’s arms still around you, his face inches from yours.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

The world seemed to go silent, the only sound your heavy breathing as you stared at each other. You felt your heart racing, but whether from the thrill of the sledding or the intensity of his gaze, you couldn’t say.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice barely a whisper.

You nodded, barely trusting yourself to speak.

His face was so close, his eyes searching yours as if he were seeing you for the first time. And in that moment, something shifted — a spark, a connection you’d spent years ignoring.

But before you could make sense of it, he pulled back, clearing his throat as he helped you to your feet. “Guess I saved your life, huh?”

You scoffed, brushing snow off your coat. “Oh, please. Don’t flatter yourself.”

But as you walked back up the hill, your heart was still pounding, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that, for the first time in years, things between you and Dominic were starting to change.

—

That night, back at the cabin, the tension between you and Dominic was impossible to ignore. You could feel his gaze on you as you sat by the fire, laughing with your friends, but every time you looked his way, he seemed to look away.

Eventually, as the night wore on, you found yourself alone with him again, this time on the back deck, watching the snow fall in silence.

“Do you actually hate me that much?” he asked, his voice low, almost challenging.

You blinked, taken off guard. “Why does it matter, Dom? Didn’t we already talk about this?”

He shrugged, looking away. “Maybe I’m curious. Maybe I just can’t figure out why you’re the only one who doesn’t seem to think I’m worth the time.”

“That’s on you, Dom,” you replied, your voice sharper than you’d intended. “You’re the one who changed.”

“And you’re the one who never gave me a chance to explain,” he shot back, stepping closer.

You crossed your arms, feeling a strange ache at his words. “Explain what? That you pushed me away on purpose? Do you even know how selfish that is?”

He paused, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his face. “You never gave me a chance to explain why I pushed you away. Why I… why things are like this between us.”

You stayed silent, heart pounding, daring him to go on. The unspoken tension, years of bitterness and misunderstandings, hung thick between you.

“Look,” he finally said, his voice softening. “I didn’t know how to handle it, alright? I didn’t know how to… deal with you, with us. I thought if I pushed you away, maybe it’d be easier. But it wasn’t.”

“What does that even mean? Deal with what?” The words escaped before you could stop them, heavy with every feeling you’d tried so hard to bury.

He took a shaky breath, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless. “Deal with the fact… that I’ve been in love with you since I was seventeen.”

The confession hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you stunned, the silence between you loud and unbearable.

“Are you kidding me?” you whispered, fighting the sudden wave of anger and something else, something that felt too much like hope.

“No,” he replied, his voice steady, eyes never leaving yours. “I’m not kidding. And I’ve been an idiot about it. I thought… I thought if I kept my distance, I’d get over it. But it just made everything worse.”

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. The boy who’d tormented you, infuriated you, had somehow harbored feelings you’d never known.

His gaze flickered down, his jaw tense as he struggled to find the words. “I thought it would be easier to let you go,” he admitted, his voice low. “Back then, everything was changing, and I was… scared. I was getting all this attention from my music, people wanting things from me, expecting me to be someone I didn’t even understand. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn’t want you to get dragged into that.”

You stared at him, disbelieving. “So instead of letting me be there for you, you pushed me away?”

He nodded, looking away as if the sight of your hurt expression was too much to bear. “I thought I could handle it on my own. But all it did was make me miss you… more than I ever thought I would.”

A silence stretched between you, raw and heavy.

He looked at you with a vulnerability you hadn’t seen in years, and for the first time, you saw the Dominic you used to know, the one you’d once cared about so deeply it hurt.

“Do you have any idea what that was like for me?” Your voice was barely a whisper. “One day, you’re there, the next, you’re gone. You were my best friend, Dom. My rock, my person,” You say, feeling yourself on the verge of tears, “You didn’t even give me a chance to understand that you weren’t there anymore. And now… you just expect me to forget that?”

His hand reached out, almost reflexively, to touch yours, and though you wanted to pull away, you couldn’t.

“I don’t expect you to forget, Y/N. What I did, I can’t even forgive myself for it. I just… I want to try and make things right. I’m tired of pretending like I hate you.”

You looked down at his hand, fingers brushing against yours, and felt the anger slipping, replaced by something else. “But, you hurt me, Dom,” you admitted, voice barely holding steady. “You hurt me in a way I didn’t think you could.”

The air between you grew thick, heavy with words unsaid and emotions neither of you knew how to voice.

He looked at you with an intensity that made your heart pound, and without thinking, you leaned into him, letting his warmth chase away the bitter chill of the night.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “I know that will never be enough, but I am. I never meant to hurt you. I just… didn’t know how to deal with it — with you.”

“Deal with what, Dom? You keep saying that,” you repeated again, your voice softer now, searching his eyes. “What was it about me that you had to ‘deal with,’ Dominic? That you liked me? I’m just… I’m so confused, right now.”

He hesitated, his hand squeezing yours as he took a shaky breath. “That I wanted you, so badly,” he said finally, voice raw.

“More than just a friend, more than anything I’d ever let myself admit. I was terrified of what it’d mean if I let you get too close, because I am not a good person, Y/N. I’m fucked up, rude, and selfish, and I feel like… I’ve always been that way. I’ve always been the person you think I am today. And you didn’t deserve someone like that, not even as a friend.”

“Dominic…” You said softly, “I never thought you were a bad person…”

“But, I was, Y/N! I still am,” He pleads, “Look at what I did to us. Look at how badly I fucked things up between us. This is the first time in years we’ve had an actual conversation…”

He sighed, his expression open and raw. "I’m not kidding. I’ve tried to push it down, ignore it, even tell myself that maybe it wasn’t real. But every time I look at you—every time I see you laugh, every time you look at me with that fire in your eyes, I know it’s still there."

You could hardly believe what you were hearing.

The Dominic you’d come to know, with his arrogance, his endless teasing, the constant back-and-forth—it had all masked something so vulnerable, something so sincere, that it was hard to process.

"Why now, Dominic?" you managed to ask, your voice trembling despite yourself. "After all these years, all the arguments, all the things you’ve said, the way you’ve acted—why are you telling me this now?"

He looked away, his jaw tightening. "Because I can’t do it anymore. I can’t keep pretending like I hate you, like I don’t feel anything when we argue, like I don’t care. And now, I just—" He paused, his gaze meeting yours. "I want you to know the truth, even if you hate me for it."

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in, all the bitterness and hurt somehow transformed into something else.

Something softer, something you’d long denied.

You didn’t know how long you both stood there, the air charged with the unspoken things between you.

"Dominic," you said quietly, fighting to keep your voice steady. "Maybe… maybe we both need to let go of what’s in the past. Because honestly, I’m exhausted too."

He watched you, a hint of hope in his eyes. "Does that mean—are you saying you might actually forgive me?"

You took a deep breath, the warmth of the cabin lights casting a glow over the snow-covered ground. "I’m saying maybe it’s time we stop running in circles. I’m saying maybe… I don’t hate you as much as I let on."

For the first time in years, Dominic’s smile wasn’t a smirk or a tease. It was soft, genuine, and it made your heart race.

He stepped closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "Then let’s see where this goes, without the walls, without the defenses. Just us. A fresh start.”

You looked up at him, something in you finally letting go.

And as his hand brushed yours, it was like the years of tension, rivalry, and unspoken feelings melted away, leaving only the beginning of something real.

“Please,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m asking you to give me a chance. To let me show you that I can be better. That I can be the person you deserve.”

You wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the bitterness, but his words cracked something inside you.

He looked at you like you were the only person in the world, and he always had. Even when you guys would argue, bicker, his eyes never showed anger. His eyes never lefts yours.

And in that moment, you realized that despite everything, you still cared.

You still wanted him, still wanted to believe that there was a part of him that hadn’t changed.

His confession hung in the air, and your heart skipped a beat, pounding with emotions you weren’t sure how to process.

You could feel the weight of every missed opportunity, every moment you’d spent pushing each other away.

Before you could stop yourself, you closed the gap between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that held years of pent-up frustration, hurt, and longing.

He responded instantly, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you close, deepening the kiss with an urgency that took your breath away.

For a moment, the world fell away, and all that mattered was the feel of him against you, the way his fingers tangled in your hair, the warmth of his mouth as it moved against yours, desperate and tender all at once.

It was as if every argument, every insult, had been leading up to this, the intensity of it all crashing over you like a wave.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, his eyes were on you, filled with a vulnerability that made your heart ache.

“I just… I didn’t realize how much I needed you,” he whispered, his forehead pressed against yours. “Until it was too late.”

You took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the weight of his words, the truth they carried. “Then maybe it doesn’t have to be too late,” you whispered back, fingers brushing against his cheek.

He looked at you, a small, tentative smile tugging at his lips. Without a word, he led you back inside, your fingers laced together as if he were afraid to let you go.

—

Back in the quiet of your shared room, he hesitated for a moment, as if unsure if you’d let him stay this close. But you tugged him closer, pulling him onto the bed beside you, feeling his warmth seep into you as you settled beside him.

Neither of you said anything, the silence filled with an unspoken understanding, a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in years. You rested your head against his shoulder.

“You still think the clichè only happens in books and movies?” Dominic asks, as you feel his hand slide around your waist, pulling you close.

You smile softly, “Shut up, idiot.”

“Mhm, you know that’s not true…”

Without thinking, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was slow, hesitant, filled with years of unsaid words and buried feelings. His hand came up to cradle your face, his touch gentle.

It just felt so right.

When you pulled away, his eyes were soft, filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. He pressed his forehead to yours, his thumb tracing slow circles along your jaw.

You lay back down beside him, your head resting on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

“Again, I’m not asking you to forgive me right now, or forget what happened,” he whispered. “But I’m asking you to give me a try.”

You nodded, a silent promise that you’d give him — give both of you — a chance to heal, to find your way back to each other.

For now, that was enough.

#dominic fike #dominic fike fan fiction #dom fike #elliot euphoria #euphoria #dominic fike x reader #dominic fike imagines #my writing #dominic fike x you #requests #requests open

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qprpbj · 5 months ago

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kk but how do u think paul and darry fell out? i love thinking abt this. like keeping the madra shirt is vvvv atw10 keeping the scarf type of energy imo bc like did he ever actually wear it?

(this is all musical!outsiders btw i’m not sure how much of it really applies to book)

me and chandler have fr yapped about paul darry for hours everyday for like two weeks straight im so fr they are so serious to me. which is so bizarre bc i am not a big outsiders shipper but idk something abt their toxic ass homoeroticism just hits soooo bad

veering more canon i think their falling out would’ve been more just bc of college after graduating and status differences, i’m not so sure it’d have been something super dramatic — maybe just diff colleges & they stopped keeping in touch?? then ofc paul stays close with bob & the others meanwhile darry had to embrace being a greaser again (no matter if he wanted to or not) bc of his circumstances, they gradually become bigger menaces to the greasers over those couple years bc darry isn’t part of their group anymore to hold them back, then bob has his specific beef w the greasers cause of cherry and ponyboy, then the rumble and bam you’ve got the ridiculous tension they’ve got there

in my parasite ridden brain though (and fully not canon i am well aware)…… lol i love the idea of them both knowing there’s something there that’s like. unusual. like not how they feel abt any of the rest of their friends. then them having some big falling out at the end of senior year over it (bc of paul more aware of being queer than darry who can’t admit it which is notable bc it’s usually the socs so obsessed with labels and status vs the greasers) where paul doesn’t exactly confess but it’s obvious darry doesn’t (or can’t yet admit that he does) reciprocate and. then much of the same.

the madras shirt is so mf interesting. literally wdym “i remember it looked pretty good on you”. gay asses. idk if darry ever wore it again after falling out w paul though, probably just kept it tucked safe somewhere (toilet thing obv just said to rile paul up bc that shit (and whatever else of paul’s he inevitably has) is fs kept on LOCK somewhere deep in his closet (ironic)). also the atw10 reference made me laugh lol thank you

#the outsiders #outsiders musical #darry curtis #internalized homophobia darry curtis i love you so bad #i literally could (AND HAVE) talked abt this for. hours. lmfao #idgaf if ppl disagree btw the vision is THERE and if u don’t get it ur brain is just not as advanced im sorry #(i’m kidding)#asks

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jokerislandgirl32 · 8 months ago

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Zach Varmitech Photoset: Koala Balloon

Zach Varmitech’s eleventh appearance in Wild Kratts was in the episode Koala Balloon (Episode 22, Season 1).

JIG32 Comments (yeah, buckle up, I’m feral over this episode):

We only see Zach for a few minutes in this episode, and despite being sick he still managed to mess things up for the Kratt Bros and the creature world! And it is all because he wanted some eucalyptus tea to help him feel better. Which causes mixed emotions in me….

One, I do want him to feel better, but flying all the way to Australia just to get tea…I mean couldn’t he just have had it sent in the mail or something, lol. Does the man not know how to order items online or do drive up pickups? I mean, Zach…I literally looked it up….you can get it from Target or Walmart for 5 bucks…he can fly his jet, drive his car, or whatever to the store, and it be ready/brought out to him in less than 2 hours….

Two, Zach is sick…Zach is sick…Zach is sick 😉🥰😍, yess, I quite enjoy sick Zach, he is so whiny and needy, and I just wanna take care of him and make him feel better 😘!

Three, Zach is a typical man child when sick. He is so whiny, dramatic, and helpless. Even more so than usual…if he’s that poorly behaved with a cold, I’d hate to see him with something more serious like the flu or stomach bug. He’ll probably start writing his last will and testament if he comes down with one of those.

Four, the fact he throws poor, sweet Koala Balloon out with the balloons attached to the poor baby….okay, Zach…I love you, but that makes me angry. Don’t let me start wacking you with your tissues (I’m joking…).

All the posts for my Zach Episodes Screenshots Series can be found at #zach screenshots

P.S. I’ve been working on a Zach/Ziolet sick fic…I’m in the early stages, but the topic makes me feral!

#wild kratts #zach varmitech #wild kratts zach #love zach varmitech #zach screenshots #wild kratts screenshots #wild kratts screencaps #screenshots #screencaps #koala balloon #illness tw #tw illness #saving for later

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fuqnia · 9 days ago

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Shattered Ice

eric cartman x reader insert

(❁´◡`❁) | [A/N] hii, this is my eighth oneshot that's apart of my ficmas! this is also on ao3. ❤️❄️🎄

(❁´◡`❁) | Warning(s) : cartman being cartman lol

(❁´◡`❁) | Synopsis : Cartman’s clumsy attempts at ice skating turn into a rare, vulnerable moment that leads to an unexpected kiss with you.

The air is crisp, the snow crunching under your boots as you approach South Park’s holiday ice rink. Bright string lights hang from poles, casting a warm glow over the bustling scene. Cheerful music hums through speakers, blending with the chatter and laughter of families and couples gliding across the ice.

Well, most of them glide.

“This is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Cartman grumbles, lagging behind you. His breath puffs out in exaggerated huffs as he drags his feet. “Ice skating? Seriously? Who the hell even does that? Chicks and Canadians, that’s who.”

You glance back, biting back a grin. “Oh, come on. Look at all the happy people! It’s festive!”

Cartman snorts, jamming his hands into his jacket pockets. “Yeah, they’re probably all freezing their asses off and pretending they’re not. And I’m not about to go out there and bust my balls just so you can pretend we’re in some shitty Hallmark movie.”

“Stop being so dramatic,” you say, stepping aside as a group of kids barrels past, laughing.

“I’m not being dramatic. I’m being realistic!” Cartman snaps, glaring at the rink as it comes into view. He gestures wildly at the skaters. “Look at them! Slipping around like a bunch of dumbasses. You know who doesn’t slip and fall like that? Me. Because I stay off the goddamn ice.”

Despite all his grumbling, Cartman trudges behind you to the rental booth, muttering curses under his breath the entire way.

“Size eight,” he barks at the attendant, slapping a crumpled bill on the counter.

The attendant hands him a pair of beat-up rental skates, and Cartman stares at them like they’ve personally offended him. “What the hell is this? Are these made of cardboard? They’re probably gonna fall apart the second I step on the ice. Goddamn rink’s probably run by Jews trying to ruin my life.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing your skates and sitting on a nearby bench to lace them up. “Right. I’m sure they built this entire rink just to mess with you, Eric.”

“Don’t roll your eyes at me!” he snaps, flopping down on the bench beside you. He holds up the skates with disdain. “I’m serious! These are probably a conspiracy to break my ankles so I can’t run away when they raise taxes or some shit.”

“You don’t even pay taxes,” you point out, hiding your smile as you tighten your laces.

Cartman huffs dramatically and starts yanking at his own laces. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter. This whole thing is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“You’re just scared you’ll fall on your ass,” you tease, standing up and stretching.

He scoffs, crossing his arms like a petulant child. “Me? Scared? Please. I’m just saying it’s stupid, that’s all. I don’t need to prove anything to you or anyone else.”

“Right,” you say, smirking. “Well, if you’re done stalling, let’s hit the ice.”

Cartman mutters something under his breath as he finally stands, wobbling precariously on the skates. He glares at you as if daring you to laugh. “If I die out there, I’m haunting your ass.”

You chuckle, skating ahead a few steps before turning back to watch him shuffle toward the rink’s entrance. The contrast between his usual swagger and his unsteady, wobbly gait is enough to make you stifle a laugh.

“Come on, Eric. You’ve survived worse,” you tease, motioning for him to follow.

As he reaches the edge of the rink, Cartman hesitates, eyeing the ice with visible suspicion. “This is a setup,” he says flatly. “The ice is waiting to take me out. I can feel it.”

“It’s ice, not quicksand,” you reply, shaking your head. “Just step on and see what happens.”

He gives you a glare sharp enough to cut glass but reluctantly takes a step forward. The moment his skates touch the ice, his feet slide out from under him, and he flails like a cartoon character.

“Oh my god, the ice is trying to kill me!” he yelps, grabbing the railing in a desperate bid to stay upright. His over-the-top reaction draws chuckles from a nearby couple, and you can’t help laughing yourself.

“Relax! You’re fine!” you say, skating back toward him.

“Fine? I’m holding on for dear life, [Y/N]!” Cartman snaps, still clinging to the railing. “You dragged me here to die, didn’t you?”

Cartman clutches the railing with both hands, his knuckles turning white as his legs wobble uncontrollably beneath him. “This is bullshit!” he barks, glaring at you like the entire ice rink is your fault. “Who thought ice skating was a good idea? It’s just slipping and falling with extra steps!”

You skate backward a few feet, watching him with an amused grin. “Come on, Eric, it’s not that bad. Just let go of the railing and give it a try.”

He glares at you, his lips pulling into a thin line. “Oh, yeah? You want me to let go? Fine!”

With dramatic flair, he releases the railing and immediately stumbles forward, his arms flailing like windmills. For a moment, it looks like he might stay upright, but the next second, his legs slide out from under him, and he lands on his back with a loud thud .

“Son of a bitch!” he yells, sprawled on the ice. Nearby skaters glance over, their chuckles adding to the chorus of Cartman’s misery.

You skate closer, biting your lip to keep from laughing outright. “You okay down there?”

“No, I’m not okay!” he snaps, attempting to sit up. “The ice is defective. This whole rink is a scam! You dragged me here to get murdered by frozen water!”

“You’re so dramatic,” you say, shaking your head. “Just get up and try again.”

Cartman glares up at you, his face red with frustration. “Try again? Are you high? I just risked my life, and you want me to do it again ?”

“Yes, because you’re not going to get better sitting there whining,” you reply, folding your arms.

He mutters a string of curses under his breath, his breath puffing out in angry little clouds as he attempts to push himself up. His skates slide uselessly beneath him, and before long, he’s flat on his back again, glaring up at the sky like it personally wronged him.

“Maybe I wasn’t built for this crap,” he grumbles, his tone quieter now. “Fat people aren’t meant to glide like penguins.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, and his glare sharpens as he turns to you. “Stop laughing! My ass is on the line here!”

“Sorry, sorry,” you say, holding up your hands in mock surrender. You skate closer and crouch down, offering him your hand. “Come on, Eric. I’ll help you up.”

He eyes your hand suspiciously, his pride clearly warring with his desire to stop lying on the ice. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he reaches out and grabs it.

“Don’t drop me, [Y/N],” he warns, his voice full of mock menace as you help him to his feet. “If I fall again, I’m taking you down with me.”

“Noted,” you reply dryly, bracing him as he wobbles back onto his skates. “Now, are you ready to actually try skating, or should I bring you a sled?”

He huffs, brushing imaginary snow off his jacket. “Let’s just get this over with. And for the record, if I break my neck, I’m suing your ass.”

With your hand guiding him, Cartman takes hesitant, awkward steps forward. His grip on your hand is tight—borderline painful—but he doesn’t let go, even as his feet wobble and slide on the ice.

“You’re not falling,” you say, skating backward to match his uneven pace. “That’s progress.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Cartman mutters, his eyes glued to the ice like it might betray him at any moment. “This is all part of the ice’s plan. It’s waiting for me to let my guard down.”

You stifle a laugh, shaking your head. “The ice isn’t plotting against you, Eric. You’re just paranoid.”

He gives you a side-eye glare but doesn’t stop moving. “Paranoia keeps me alive, [Y/N]. That, and not trusting people with dumb ideas like ‘Let’s go ice skating.’”

“You’re skating right now,” you point out, smirking.

“Because you tricked me into it,” he shoots back, though there’s no real venom in his tone.

You squeeze his hand gently, pulling him slightly forward to keep him steady. “I didn’t trick you. I just knew you’d be too stubborn to admit you wanted to try it.”

Cartman snorts but doesn’t argue. He stumbles a little, gripping your hand tighter, but you guide him smoothly across the ice.

“Okay, not completely awful,” he mutters begrudgingly after a few minutes.

“See? Told you it’s not so bad,” you say, grinning.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all smug about it.”

You skate together in a slow, wobbly rhythm, weaving carefully around the other skaters. His grumbling grows quieter as his movements become a little steadier, though he doesn’t loosen his grip on your hand.

After a while, you guide him toward the middle of the rink, away from the busier edges. The ice here feels smoother, the space quieter. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, the faint hum of music and laughter fading into the background.

Cartman stops, his legs still shaky, and huffs out a breath. “This is stupid,” he mutters, though there’s no real heat in his words.

“Admit it,” you say, smiling. “You’re kind of having fun.”

He glares at you, his expression torn between annoyance and something softer. “If by ‘fun,’ you mean sweating my ass off and trying not to die, then sure, I’m having a blast.”

You laugh, the sound warm and light, and he glances at you, his brow furrowing slightly.

“You’re lucky, you know,” he mutters after a moment, his voice quieter now. “I don’t trust anyone else to see me make an ass of myself like this.”

The confession catches you off guard, and you blink at him, surprised. “Thanks... I think?”

He shrugs, looking away quickly. “Don’t make it weird.”

You smile, something fond tugging at your chest. “It’s not weird. I’m glad you trust me.”

He pauses, his expression flickering with something unreadable. For once, he doesn’t have a quick comeback. His grip on your hand loosens slightly, but he doesn’t let go.

“You’re staring,” he grumbles, breaking the silence.

“Maybe I like looking at you,” you reply, your tone light and teasing.

His mouth opens, probably to deliver some sarcastic retort, but the words don’t come. Instead, he leans forward suddenly, the movement awkward but purposeful.

His lips brush against yours, hesitant at first, like he’s testing the waters. For a moment, you’re too stunned to react. Then his hand tightens on yours, anchoring you in place as he tilts his head slightly, pressing in with a clumsy kind of determination.

The kiss is warm, softer than you’d ever expect from Cartman. His usual bravado melts away, replaced by an uncharacteristic nervousness that makes your heart stutter. You can feel the cold air biting at your cheeks, the faint scent of pine and snow mingling with the moment, but none of it matters as he lingers just a second longer than you’d expect.

When he finally pulls back, his face is flushed—though whether it’s from the cold or something else, you can’t tell. His gaze darts away quickly, and he mutters under his breath, “You better not tell anyone about this.”

Your lips twitch into a smile. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Good,” he says, his voice quieter than usual. His hand, however, stays in yours, his grip still firm as if grounding himself.

“You’re not as bad at skating as you think, you know,” you say softly, breaking the silence.

He rolls his eyes, his usual bravado slipping back into place. “Don’t push it, [Y/N].”

You laugh, the sound light and easy as you squeeze his hand. “Come on, let’s keep skating.”

Cartman grumbles under his breath as you tug him gently forward, your skates gliding easily over the smooth ice. His hand remains firmly in yours, his grip tight and slightly clammy, but he doesn’t seem eager to let go.

The two of you skate quietly for a little longer, the weight of the kiss still lingering between you. Cartman doesn’t say much—his usual stream of sarcastic comments reduced to occasional muttering under his breath. His grip on your hand hasn’t loosened, but there’s something different about it now—something almost... intentional.

When you reach the edge of the rink, he clears his throat and lets go, wobbling as he steps off the ice and immediately collapses onto the nearest bench. “Alright, that’s enough of this crap. I’m done. Over it. Let’s go,” he announces, yanking at the laces of his skates like they personally wronged him.

You sit beside him, a smile still playing at the corners of your lips. “You survived the rink, Eric. Barely, but you did.”

“Survived?” he snaps, holding up one of his skates for emphasis. “These things are medieval torture devices. My feet are practically broken.”

You chuckle, taking off your own skates as he continues to grumble. Once your boots are back on, you glance at him, catching the faint flush still on his cheeks. Whether it’s from the cold or the kiss, you can’t tell—and you’re not sure you want to ask.

“Ready to go?” you ask, standing and brushing snow off your coat.

Cartman huffs, shoving his feet into his boots. “Finally. My ass is freezing, and if I stay out here any longer, I’m gonna end up like those dumbass kids in The Donner Party .”

The two of you head out of the rink, the holiday lights and cheerful music fading behind you as you step onto the quiet, snowy streets. For a while, neither of you speaks. The snow crunches underfoot, and the cold air bites at your nose, but the silence feels... comfortable.

Finally, Cartman clears his throat, kicking at a chunk of snow. “So, you’re not, like... overthinking that, are you?”

You glance at him, suppressing a smile. “Overthinking what?”

He shoots you a glare. “You know.”

You raise an eyebrow but decide to let him off the hook. “Eric, relax. I’m not ‘overthinking’ anything.”

“Good,” he mutters, his face relaxing slightly. After a beat, he adds, “Because if you were, that’d be dumb.”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, your tone light as you glance over at him.

He shoves his hands deeper into his jacket pockets, his scowl fading into something softer. “This whole night was dumb,” he says, but his voice doesn’t carry the usual bite.

“Maybe,” you say, smiling gently. “But I thought it was nice.”

Cartman stops in his tracks. You turn to look at him, confused, and before you can say anything else, he holds out his hand.

“What?” you ask softly.

“Don’t make it weird,” he mutters, his eyes fixed on the ground. “Just... come on. Before you slip on the ice or something dumb like that.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of you, but you take his hand without hesitation. His grip is firm, and despite the way he huffs and mutters under his breath, he doesn’t let go as the two of you continue walking.

The snow falls softly around you, blanketing the streets in a quiet calm. And while Cartman would never admit it out loud, the warmth of his hand in yours says more than words ever could.

#south park x reader #south park x y/n #eric cartman x reader #eric cartman x y/n #sp oneshot #south park oneshot #holidays in hell

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envcry · 16 days ago

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herrencreme is so fun, all your art of him and clotted has been delightful! It does make me curious about what led to them breaking up? Was it just a growing apart/diverging paths kind of thing, or something more serious/dramatic?

Omg thank you so much for the kind words 😭

And yes, short answer: It was because of diverging paths! When they met they were really similar and looking for the same things. While they both were aware of each other's future hopes, they didn't think it would be so apart in magnitude and change until it actually happened.

And very long answer that touches on what I imagine Clotted was like in the past to provide more context. The long, and yet still work in progress, Herrenclotted Lore(tm) that is a disguise for Clotted character analysis:

What I find most interesting about Clotted is that he has a strong, genuine love for the Republic despite everything it caused him. His birth into House Scone, which the Republic deemed a shameful house, and his adoption into House Custard to be nothing more than a tool for Custard’s power and influence within the Republic. The entire Republic has their eyes on him as their youngest Consul ever. The Republic has had a tight grip on him from birth to now.

But somewhere along the way, he somehow made his decisions solely his own (even if he makes a lot of morally questionable decisions). Not Custard’s, not the Elders, his drive and ambition to serve the Republic is all his. In the rare moments we get to see his true intentions, it’s always for the betterment of the Republic and when it comes to challenging people higher than him (the Ancients and the Elders) he doesn’t have any issue with it. He makes the Elders uncomfortable with his decision on the Pearl Legion and he doesn’t even care. His autonomy is incredibly important to me and I think it’s so interesting the writers went this morally grey route instead of him completely disconnecting from the society that hurt him.

At some point though, I think he explored the possibility of disconnecting from it though which is where Herrencreme comes in. They met when Clotted was in a very transitional period of his life from under heavy monitoring and expectations as a child to young adult and now a young adult who has to figure out how to function outside of the eye of Custard in order to be self-sufficient as a candidate for Consul in the future. He still is under heavy expectations of course, but he’s more “free” in a literal sense aka he gets to go outside the house.

Headcanon timeline of events for reference: At 22, he finishes higher education and from 22-27 he’s serving as a Custard guard to gain the military experience required for Consul (which is usually 10 years but I’m cutting it in half because he’s supposed to be younger maybe the Republic’s required years are different), and from 27-30 he’s doing politician work and gets elected at 31. Espresso mentions that Clotted did go through his politician years very fast:

He’s 25 when he meets Herren so he’s a few years into his military years. Peak time to be contemplating whether or not this is what he wants with his life. The life that has been imposed on him ever since he was born and then escalated when he was adopted.

So from the strict upbring, he moves in the entirely opposite direction. Less time around the Great Houses and their circles, less being bound by expectations, less connection to the political sphere he was brought into. More freedom, more indulgence, more discovery about himself and what he wants. He’s basically just going through the “being in your 20s experience” LOL

Herren is so lively. He knows how to talk to people, he likes talking to people, and he likes experiencing things with people. His family’s business in event planning makes him good at all of these things and how to navigate people, especially wealthy people, with things as stressful as high-end events. Just a very people-oriented person and he loves extravagant experiences. He’s an optimist, a dreamer, and lover. He also likes blondes.

Clotted (in-present day) in fun because despite all his questionable traits and decisions, he is also charming and “nice”. He has good intentions, at least. The development of the “achieve your goals at all costs” is a different conversation but he is an incredibly pleasant person to talk to if it isn’t about business.

So when a staff member from House Custard reaches out to the Herrencreme business to plan and execute a social event at Mansion Custard, he basically begs whoever is leading the effort to let him help on-site solely because he thinks the son of House Custard is attractive and having unrealistic hopes of getting to meet him. The only reason he actually gets to go is because his older brother is the one assigned to this job and he’s nervous about working for one of the Great Houses. He does not want his brother acting on his dreamy delusions. He does not listen because the amount of times his attempts have gone well outweighs his failures. And I see why because he does eventually date Clotted so. maybe he’s onto something.

Clotted meets someone who is kind to him, does something as bold as flirt with the son of House Custard, knows how to enjoy things and pushes him to do the same, and is not part of any of his political spheres of people. Herren, shooter of shots Number One, learns the son of House Custard is even more charming in person and in-private, actually very normal when he needs to be, and is very receptive to his outgoing nature. He wants nothing more than to sweep Clotted off his feet and treat him well. He also likes stronger personalities because of how he needs to be reeled in from the clouds sometimes and he’s a bit less confrontational. Clotted likes making decisions and is in the transitional period of his life where he’s willing to take harder stances because of him trying to break away from everyone else controlling his life. They’re very much attracted to each other.

Something something they date for like 2-3 years, I’m still working out the timeline of events but FAST FORWARD to the rift that I can only describe as Herren is so normal. and Clotted is not. He’s being morally questionable and disrespecting the Ancients in Odyssey and nearly getting stabbed and yet he still doesn’t care because he thinks he’s justified in insulting their kingdoms while Herren wants to settle down and idk maybe brush their teeth together sometimes like they are MAGNITUDES apart in wants and needs. Herren knew Clotted was ambitious, and he supported his dreams of becoming the youngest Consul when he decided that yes, he still wants to become Consul even though it was originally imposed on him by his father, but he didn’t expect Clotted to become as intense as he is.

The disconnect from Clotted’s upbringing and sphere as someone in one of the Great Houses is what brought them together and what Clotted wanted for a long time but at some point, to get to the Clotted we see in-canon, he went back. He didn’t find happiness in being completely disconnected from serving the Republic that hurt him but he found happiness in making his decisions for the Republic solely his own. He serves the Republic because he wants to - not because his father wants to, not because the Elders need a conduit for their decisions, but because he wants what’s best for his people.

Of course becoming Consul is inherently political, and Herren knows this and again, he still supported Clotted’s endeavors, but the traits of being a politician leaking into their relationship was a problem. Canon Clotted has a difficult time being open and has to keep many secrets. This is both a basic politican thing but also the people he grew up around forced him to develop this and it comes back once he spends time again in the circle. Herren watching Clotted go back to this despite the fact they’ve been together and open with each other for a while is hard. Especially when he’s transparent and wears his heart on his sleeve. Clotted isn’t doing this to him on purpose but it’s so instinctual once he’s back to where he used to be. He just becomes a lot of intense in general.

Herren is conflict-avoidant with the people he cares about. And it’s a huge issue when you combine that with the unstoppable force that is Clotted’s ambition and Clotted’s divided time. Herren needs someone to slow down and pull out his worries when there’s signs of it, he needs the confrontational Clotted before Clotted went back on the fast track of becoming Consul. Clotted needs someone to pull him back when he’s going too far and give him that stop when he needs it. Herren does not have this ability and Clotted does not have the time as he used to spend as much time with Herren and notice every detail of change he inhibits. Which yes could’ve been solved if Herren communicated better but it’s one of his flaws that does not get resolved while they’re together. He only gets better at this when they're at the breakup point.

Clotted looks forward. He’s one of his core traits. If Herren doesn’t say anything, then everything seems fine to him. Clotted needs someone who is stubborn in a sense and will intervene even if it’s uncomfortable. Which is why I like him with Financier but that’s a whole different essay. But he really is an unstoppable force that Herren is not at all equipped to handle nor was ready for when he met him.

But YAYYY that’s basically the “lore” (Clotted analysis). I just thought it would be fun to both explore a younger Clotted and have someone close to him that gets to experience and react to his change and development. Despite the length of this, it’s still a work in progress because some details need refining and stronger connections so I hope the basic idea gets across.

Clotted eventually finds a middle ground between being free from the expectations that were imposed on him and still serving the Republic which resulted in the morally grey and intense Clotted we have today. Herrencreme will one day find someone who is willing to bring joyous, adventurous days into his life between the mundane periods of living, appreciate his lovey dovey gestures, and happily be dragged off with him to whatever grand experience he’s looking for next. But it won’t be Clotted for him and Herren will not be for Clotted. Clotted will always have his ambition and his vision for the future of the Republic in his sights and that will always impact who he’s with and I’m happy that he eventually figured it out but it doesn’t work out with everyone (and that’s okay lol)

If you made it this far congrats and thank you so much for reading my ramblings😭

#thank you for the sweet ask and thank you for being interested in my silly little guy #i hope the short and/or long responses were able to answer your question #asks #herrenclotted #so i can find this again because i never post lore LOL #clotted cream cookie #for the analysis i guess

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chalkscene · 3 months ago

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lovebrush chronicles ⇢ NO COMPETITION ft. lars rorschach

wc: 4.1k

note: white day spoiler if you haven’t read them. but also not really lol consider this canon divergent because some of the lore have blurred together in my head + this is just a longer, self-indulgent, dramatic version of mc’s confession about her being a traveler because i refuse to accept that she told lars about it through email like they’re just colleagues and not his girlfriend — not proofread !!

“hi…” you peek into lars’s office. “are you busy?”

as soon as your eyes land on the heaps of paperwork scattered on his desk, you already know the answer to your question but lars’s expression tells you otherwise. he instantly beams at your presence and walks over to you, whatever he needed to get done now forgotten.

“not anymore.” ecstatic, he reaches for your hand to guide you past the doorway and further into the room. “did you feel me missing you? because i was.”

even when his flirty banter elicits a playful eye roll from you, you can’t help but feel endeared. no matter how much time has passed since you’ve gotten together, he still showers you with the same affection like it’s the first time.

you suppose his childhood was abundant in love. it’s the only explanation as to why he has so much to give without ever running out for himself.

“you just saw me yesterday,” you tease him anyway.

lars pouts. “that’s one day too long without you.”

just like that, you’re reminded of the reason you stopped by his office.

what your boyfriend assumes is a sudden visit from you is the reason you didn’t get any sleep last night. you’d been tossing and turning in your sheets, thinking up ways to go about this much needed conversation without tying your stomach in knots.

“everything alright?” lars’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. he’s always been perceptive enough to notice when you’re preoccupied.

“i actually needed to talk to you about something.”

lars would usually utter some quip to lighten the mood before it even dampened but right now, upon seeing your pensive expression, he can’t bring himself to do so. the gears in his head begin to turn as he tries to gauge how important this conversation is going to be. as far as he’s concerned, he hasn’t done anything wrong.

“okay…” he drawls, motioning for you to sit on the couch with him. “sounds serious. what is it?”

knowing what you’re about to tell him, it’s absurd to expect him to remain unfazed. still, you cling onto hope that lars will hear you out without fear. that you don’t lose the person you love over the one thing that’s beyond your control.

“you’ve been asking about what happened when i disappeared,” you start, your voice so small against the erratic pounding of your heart as lars stares at you in anticipation. “the truth is… i’m a traveler.”

as if everything else has come to a standstill, you easily catch the subtle twitch in lars’s eyebrows as confusion manifests in his visage.

“i’m…” he falters. “i’m not sure i’m following.”

doubt creeps into your mind and you’re wondering if you should’ve rehearsed what you were going to say instead of opting for whatever pops into your head. but you’re already here and lars is listening with bated breath so you try again.

“i can travel to different multiverses,” you explain—not that it makes any of this easier for him to comprehend. “i thought ‘in passing’ was an original idea since i dreamt of it but it turned out to be a vision of a parallel universe. the characters, the places, everything i drew in the manga, it all exists in another world. so did the earthquakes. they…” you trail off for a moment, racking your brain for a sensible way to tell lars you had heard a young alkaid’s voice in your head as if you don’t already sound crazy as it is. “i responded to someone’s call for help from a different universe. but by doing that, i didn’t know i’d shifted the target and sacrificed our world to save his. i had to leave so i could find a way to put a stop to it.”

“what target?” there isn’t the slightest hint of mockery in lars’s tone but you can read him well enough to know that even he can’t believe he’s actually asking a genuine question.

“someone’s been targeting all these worlds for their own gain and earth is one of their prospects.”

your words leave a bad taste in your mouth as you are now realizing the real extent of the truth. despite your knowledge on a multitude of worlds beyond your own, there is still something much larger that has yet to unravel. you can’t even envision the lengths you’ll have to go through to get to the bottom of it—if you even get there at all.

with this overload of peculiar information, lars can only mutter an okay under his breath. and even then, it sounds more directed at himself than you—like he’s convincing himself to believe you because why would you lie to him? and if you were lying to him, why would you make up something so… inconceivable? he has so many questions. “how is all this even possible?”

“i… i’m not sure. all i know is i got my abilities from my mother. she was also a traveler.” you pause to give lars a few seconds to let the words register before you deliberately add, “so is cael.”

“anselm?”

“he knew her.”

you disclose everything—your mother’s initial plan on earth. how cael got entangled in the final moments of her life. who he is and his role in yours. project shelter. godheim and eden. your illustra. all of it.

lastly, you tell lars he’s one of the paragons.

you’ve never seen him look more dubious when he asks, “what do you mean?”

“there’s a version of you in each universe,” you confess, “and i’ve met some of them.”

like canvas, lars’s expression is now smeared with a mix of disbelief and distress, its hue so unfamiliar to you. at this point, you’re scrambling for anything to say just to keep him from slipping out of your fingertips.

you need lars to believe that in spite of the things he didn’t know about you, he’s still right about you—who you are and where your heart lies. what he means to you. you need lars to believe that even though your paths were already fated to cross long before you were made aware of each other’s existence, it has been your wholehearted choice to love him.

silence gradually fills the space around you and lars—and while a flicker of hope begs to be stoked as you wait for him to cut through the quiet, you’re apprehensive lest he say something you don’t want to hear and what you wish to be warmth from a hearth turn into wildfire instead.

you feel your resolve crack with each passing second, regret seeping through the crevices like a harsh reminder of how wrong this decision was. everything was already fine. lars never questioned you. you should’ve kept it that way.

but you force the thought away because he deserves to know. you don’t want to be unfair to him. now that you’ve bared your truth, however lars feels about it—about you—is no longer in your hands.

“that’s, um…” he finally speaks, yet still at a loss for words. “that’s a lot to process.”

his tone is laced with something heavy and as his words enter your ears, so does the weight of his voice. all you can do is sit there as you feel it slither deep into your system until it’s pressing down on your chest and crushing your heart.

“take your time,” you mumble, defeated and almost on autopilot. what else is left for you to say?

“i’m sorry about your mother.” lars means it.

though you acknowledge his sentiments, lars realizes you’re not looking at him anymore. your eyes are fixed on your fidgeting hands—whether it’s in shame or guilt, he’s not sure but whatever pull that has naturally drawn him to you before is still there and in this moment, he wants nothing more than to ease your mind.

he’s not scared, he wants to tell you. he’s confused and overwhelmed but he’s not afraid of you.

a knock on the door suddenly interrupts your conversation.

“mr. rorschach, the meeting is about to start.” it’s his secretary.

lars winces, seemingly having forgotten the important appointment. he mutters a quick apology to you before addressing his employee, “can we reschedule?”

“i’m afraid not, sir. the board members are already here. they’re just waiting for you.”

“you should go,” you suggest just loud enough for lars to hear. you can sense his hesitation but it’s not like you have much of a choice here.

“i’ll be there shortly,” lars then dismisses his secretary. once the door closes, he turns back to you. “what about you?”

“i need to be home soon. beans is waiting for me.”

lars is suddenly getting déjà vu from your words as your disappearance flashes back to him.

being a ceo and heir to the family company before he’s even hit the age of 30, lars has quickly learned the twists and turns of negotiations, securing himself deals that lean in his favor. his flair for business has never failed him but it proved to be of no use in the singular point in time when you vanished without a trace.

lars isn’t a devotee of a higher power but in a moment of desperation, if some deity were to materialize right before his eyes, he would’ve surrendered everything in a heartbeat just to get you back.

however, there was no divine entity to intervene or make a trade with. there was no one to beg.

lars searched for you in every place you could be, walked past your house every single day in hopes that he’d find you there but to no avail. hearing your voice would’ve sufficed, he remembers praying, but none of his calls were going through. he’d attempted to dial your number too many times, he could’ve sworn that the busy signal continuously rung in his ears and never stopped. all this wealth and resources yet none of them could lead him to you. the last thing he ever wanted to do was give up but he was running out of options. he had no other choice but to wait and hope that wherever you had gone, you’d make it back.

to this day, the memory remains vivid and the possibility of it reoccurring is enough to make his insides churn and his mind go haywire.

and it wasn’t like he never tried to address it the first time. he had once hinted at it in a conversation but you seemed evasive so he never brought it up again. after all, everyone has their own secrets. he simply trusted that you would tell him yours when you were ready, no matter how long it took.

it turns out no amount of time could’ve prepared him for it.

“i’ll call my driver,” lars offers but you decline.

“it’s fine.”

you sound polite yet resolute so lars doesn’t insist but a single thought crosses his mind—with his blonde hair as golden as his heart, you’ve always made it known that you deem him comparable to the sun. now, as he watches you take your leave, it’s almost as if that exact same light scathes you and you couldn’t get away from him any faster.

“let me know when you get home.” you didn’t need to be reminded, lars knows it, but he expresses it anyway solely for the sake of saying something—anything—to you then maybe you’ll say something back but you only reply with a nod, barely sparing him another glance before you’re out of his office.

you may have traveled to distant realms twice but to lars, you’ve never felt further from his reach than you do right now.

deep in thought, you absentmindedly fiddle with your dinner. you’re not sure why you bothered to cook when you don’t really have an appetite. beans, however, is the complete opposite as he devours his meal like you haven’t fed him in days.

“you’re gonna throw up if you keep eating like that,” you warn him as if he understands a single word. you make a mental note to buy him a slow feeder.

save for beans’s gobbling, your house is otherwise quiet, though not serene.

your thoughts are in a spiral as you try to rack your brain for all the possibilities your relationship with lars could go from this point. you’re too far from ordinary to wish for things to remain as they are but that’s not what you want. like broken porcelain mended back together, you just want lars to truly look at you, traveler and all, and still see the person he loves.

a knock on the door suddenly breaks you out of your reverie.

“lars?” you freeze at the sight of him on your doorstep. aside from the text you sent him when you got home, you haven’t really talked since you left his office. you weren’t sure if he wanted to see you.

“can i come in?”

despite having a long day, lars still appears unruffled—his luscious locks curl in all the right ways, his suit looks as pristine as it did this afternoon and his disposition, calm and collected like always.

you don’t have the heart to deny him so like you would under any other circumstance, you let him in.

the moment lars steps inside, the loud clanging of beans’s food bowl on the floor reverberates around the room as he dashes straight to lars, immediately nuzzling against his leg.

“hey, buddy!” lars greets your cat which is met with what sounds like an accusatory meow. as appeasement, he crouches down to give beans a few gentle pats on his head. “yes, i promise to bring tinnie with me next time.”

you’re about to shut the door when a gust of wind swooshes through, carrying a leaf into your home which triggers beans’s instincts to chase after it.

before you know it, you’re alone with lars and his attention is already on you. “hi.”

“hi,” you reply with a voice so weak and small.

“i think you know why i’m here,” he reminds you albeit kindly.

“you could’ve waited until tomorrow to talk. i wouldn’t mind,” you say as sincerely as you can but even you’re not entirely convinced of your own claim. “you’re probably tired from your meeting.”

“i’m never tired when i see you,” lars quips but his coquetry doesn’t affect you like it usually does as you only manage a quirk at the corners of your lips, subtly averting your gaze elsewhere.

the handsome face which you’ve known to cause a warm flutter in your heart is now the reason it might stop at any given moment out of immense fear that you find the slightest hint of apprehension in his visage. or worse, you witness the light in his eyes dimming gradually until his gaze is nothing but a blank stare. so you don’t look at him at all.

however, none of this is unexpected to lars so he takes it upon himself to cross the distance between the two of you.

“come here.” he reaches for your hand, gently dragging you with him en route to the sofa in your living room. this conversation is already uncomfortable as it is. he might as well find you a cozy place to have it in.

“on the way here, i’ve had some time to think about everything you told me,” he begins when you look at him again, “i’m not going to lie and say i understand how this whole… travelling works. but i believe you.”

when lars reflected on your conversation earlier, he’d recalled the vr movie of a possible apocalyptic future you’d seen together. he wanted to mock it then for its improbability but after everything he learned today, none of it seems too far-fetched now.

“i am scared though,” he continues and you almost feel your heart plummet to your gut only to be caught by a hair’s breadth before the crash when you hear the faint sound of lars’s chuckle. the ghost of a smile adorns his face and with a tone that’s anything but jealous, he adds, “i’m scared you’ll choose another lars over me.”

the next thing you know, he’s straightening his posture and puffing his chest out in a humorous attempt to appear intimidating.

“tell me about them. i need to know my competition,” he jests, prompting a giggle to bubble past your lips. for the first time today, you feel like you can breathe again.

most people would’ve surely run for the hills by now but lars has stayed rooted to your side, not inching away from you even slightly.

“okay,” you finally speak as your anxiety dissipates little by little, “the first time i encountered a version of you was in godheim—the same universe where in passing took place,” lars nods at this as if to say he’s familiar with it before you continue, “in that world, you’re the emperor.”

“the male lead in your manga?” lars asks but before you can express any confirmation, the curiosity in his face is already morphing into smugness, clearly pleased with this piece of revelation. “so you’ve been drawing me before you even knew i exist? that could only mean one thing—we’re meant to be.”

“don’t be so sure,” you banter, “eden lars was cute.”

you purposely describe lars’s eden counterpart in such manner to see how he’ll react and you are not disappointed. his body stiffens as a frown forms between his eyebrows and the hand that was so lovingly tracing the outline of yours comes to an abrupt halt. you stifle a grin to stay in character, pointing at the little pot of succulent sitting on your windowsill. “he actually gave me that cactus before i left.”

“i didn’t know you liked such things,” lars responds in a level voice but had you not known him enough, you wouldn’t have caught the hint of competitiveness right underneath. you can almost imagine him sizing his eden variant up if they ever met.

“i mean…” you shrug, feigning obliviousness to his current demeanor, “i can appreciate them.”

lars simply nods, mentally taking notes of your preference as if being your lover is the most important role he’s ever taken on and he wishes to fulfill it with utmost diligence. you can’t help but fall into a fit of giggles.

“you’re cute when you get jealous,” you tease, “don’t worry. he’s not that good of a fighter.”

“lame,” he jabs, though his tone is more playful than hostile. still, you lightly slap his arm with your free hand, making him chortle. “who else did you meet?”

“there’s… the governor,” you answer more seriously, your spirits now dampened as you deliberately utter the title of his parallel from the infinite empire like you’re testing the words on your tongue. “i haven’t met him but from what cael tells me, he’s cunning and manipulative. he’s part of the empire responsible for harvesting emotions from multiple worlds.”

for a brief moment, lars takes in the new information. in your desire to be fully transparent with him, you quickly add before you forget, “cael used to be one of them but he had a change of heart.”

lars lets out a scoff. “that explains why mr. anselm isn’t so fond of me.”

“he’s just being protective of me,” you placate him, though you’re secretly amused by his grumbling.

“too protective. i could’ve sworn he was gonna push me off the boat the day we met.”

you only grin at his dramatics but lars doesn’t feel the need to say anything else either. he simply basks in your mirth, letting it send a wave of tranquility through his veins to subdue the guilt that was bubbling up inside him. he can’t stomach the idea that there exists a universe where “he” would put you in harm’s way. like the fault of another lars is just as much as his.

lars mentally kicks himself for being presumptuous, too confident in his own capabilities to be useful regardless of the situation. if only he knew what you were facing, he usually thought to himself, failing to realize that in the end, even someone as powerful as him still has his limits.

it’s a lesson he should’ve learned from the very first time you disappeared. it should’ve humbled him enough to feel gratitude towards cael for protecting you. and he does. but there’s a nagging thought that fills his head, perfectly encapsulating his conflicting emotions into words—lars wishes it was him by your side through all of it. it’s what any loving boyfriend would want, he tells himself but deep down, he’s aware that his desire to be needed by you, while it comes from a place of love, also stems from a place of pride.

if this is the pride they talk about in the bible, he will never repent.

“cael wouldn’t let anything happen to me,” you console lars as if you can discern his predicament, “you can trust him.”

“i know,” he agrees, not dwelling on his worries any further. these are the cards fate has already dealt him with—if he can’t follow you to another world, he’ll stay with you in this one. “thank you for telling me all of this.”

“are you upset?” you cautiously ask.

lars ponders for a moment before shaking his head. “i think if i were in your situation, i would’ve also kept it from you for your sake. however...” there’s a brief pause when he sighs then he’s forming his next words with care. “i also think that you would’ve wanted me to tell you if i were to run off to another world again.”

you know that the last thing he intends to do is question your conscience but he’s not wrong. you can’t even imagine how you would cope if you were in his place.

“can you promise me something?” lars speaks again, his voice now uncharacteristically soft and fragile like his heart could crumble any moment.

“anything.”

“if something comes up and you need to travel again, please tell me,” he asks—no. pleads. he’s pleading with you. something someone as self-assured as lars rorschach rarely does. “i know i can’t stop you from leaving but i need to know where you go when i can’t follow you. i don’t want to see the day when something happens to you and i’ll be the last to know because i had no clue where you were.”

at his frantic state, you try to reassure him but even your own voice is quivering now. “you don’t have to worry about me.”

“i’ll always worry about you,” lars reasons with you, almost chuckling at the ridiculousness of your statement. “even if you’re just out shopping for cat food and i don’t hear from you for a few hours, i’ll worry about you. because i love you.”

you’ve heard those three words spoken straight from his lips countless times but there’s an earnestness in his voice that presents you with a new depth of his love, its current stronger than ever and yet it only makes you braver—you know he’ll always carry you ashore.

tears begin prick your eyes but your chest feels lighter despite being filled to the brim with adoration for the man before you. and you think maybe this is it.

this is what your mom’s sacrifice all comes down to—from meeting your father and learning about love, to putting her life on the line and entrusting cael with the responsibility to preserve your innocence, all so you can learn about it too and live out moments like this. moments that make you ultimately human.

i promise. the words fail to escape your lips as you’re no longer able to contain your emotions but lars hears you anyway. he gently swipes away your tears, pressing soft kisses across your skin before he’s wrapping you in his arms, the safest place this world can offer you.

“i love you,” you tell him through your sniffles. it’s a wet and broken declaration but you mean it all the same.

“more than eden lars?” he jokes, pulling a hearty laugh out of you.

“much.” you close the distance that separates you, muffling his own laughter with a kiss. for a moment, you pull away as you promise, “you’re the only lars for me.”

this time, lars takes it upon himself to bring your lips together, the tenderness of his action fully contrasting his passionate kisses like he’s communicating a wordless vow.

maybe in the future, he’ll find a way to travel with you through time and space but for now, every piece of his heart is yours to keep, along with his undying optimism that no matter how far your journey takes you, his love will guide you back home where he’ll be waiting endlessly.

#pushing my eden lars agenda 🙂‍↕️#if eden lars has a million fans i am one of them #if eden lars has ten fans i am one of them #if eden lars has one fan then that is me #if eden lars has no fans then i am no longer on earth #if the world is against eden lars then i am against the world #for all time #lovebrush chronicles #lovebrush chronicles x reader #lovebrush x reader #lbc x reader #lovebrush lars #lars rorschach #lars rorschach x reader #lars x reader

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musicalmoritz · 5 months ago

Note

hi hi mutual :D

I’m not a huge aoinene shopper (although I do ship it) but! I wanted to ask for your Aoinene hc’s since I have labeled you as the Aoinene expert in my head and I saw you reblog that post we reblogged about the ship hc’s and such!!

convince me into the aoinene lore…. /hj -Bunny

Hiiiiiii mutual!! First of all I’ve said this before but I love being known as the Aoinene Expert™️, so happy that’s my reputation lol

Headcanons are my specialty so I’m glad you asked this!! I will gladly convince you into the Aoinene lore/hj. They’ve been rotting away my brain all day so I’m gonna take this opportunity to ramble abt them and explain how I see the ship

• So as far as canon goes I wouldn’t change either of the canon pairings for them, shipping for me sort of exists in a multiversal vacuum where I can imagine alternatives for who the characters end up with and how they end up with those ppl via fan content

• I do, however, love the idea of them having mutual crushes on each other in canon. I think Nene plays hers off as just admiring Aoi but deep down she feels the same way abt her that she does Teru and Fuji (or maybe a little bit more serious since they’re best friends). And while I think Akane is Aoi’s ultimate soulmate in canon I can see her having feelings for Nene as well, though I think they’d start to fade once Nene began to pull away from her

• As for fanon tho…

• In my head there’s an alternate universe where these two end up together after everything. This usually involves lesbian Aoi bcuz I do adore that headcanon in anything that’s not the actual manga. I like to think they both developed mutual crushes on each other in middle school and Aoi was very internally angsty and aware of her’s whereas Nene was very repressed abt her feelings for girls in general

• They totally have sleepovers every week, on Fridays specifically. They do typical things like watching movies and painting each other’s nails but they’re teenage girls so they’d also probably try to summon demons. And since this is tbhk they’d probably succeed a few times (now I need an au where Nene summons Bloody Mary instead of Hanako)

• Since it’s Aoinene ofc there’s gotta be a moment when Aoi finally opens up to Nene about everything, but I don’t think that would come without difficulty. Lots of avoiding each other and being super distant bcuz neither of them want to be the first to bring it up, then maybe a dramatic fight or two before they come back together on calmer terms and have a long conversation at one of their sleepovers about everything. Whether platonic or romantic that's usually how I envision their resolution

• I think it would also have to come after Aoi's taken some time to work through her mental health problems, she's made progress but she still has a long way to go and that stuff isn't easy to talk about, especially when she knows Nene's view of her will change

• I don't think Nene ever intends to hurt Aoi though, she's more-so negligent and a bit self-centered. And she seems to know something is off with Aoi never talking abt herself but she can't take that further step into understanding WHY she acts the way that she does

• To be honest I see Nene as stressing a lot when she realizes something's going on because she doesn't want to lose their friendship, and I do think she would embrace the real Aoi with open arms if she ever were to meet her

• Then I think they'd have some struggles of adjusting to their new dynamic and figuring out how they work with Aoi being herself + Aoi would instinctively try to pull away a bit, but I think they'd find a way to make it work

• They would constantly be going on dates, wanting to try new places together. They've probably tried every cafe in their town, I could also see them being the type of couple to have each other's orders memorized

• A lot of fics tend to pull them away from their canon love interests in one way or another but not me, Hanako and Akane automatically become wingmen. Those girls are a mess and they need all the advice they can get, even if their makeshift relationship counsellors are far from qualified

• They match their outfits whenever they go out, and they're also 100% the type to do matching Halloween costumes

• Nene has a houseplant in her room that's a gift from Aoi

• Nene calls Aoi every time she has to run errands but doesn't want to do it alone. They end up at the pet store a lot

• Their moms are both convinced they're secretly dating and place bets on when they'll announce it

• They both get easily flustered around each other when they first start dating but in different ways; Nene is a very loud and dramatic type of flustered, very shoujo protagonist core. And Aoi is more the quiet, tsundere genre of flustered

• In the future I picture Nene as a successful writer and Aoi as a flower shop owner and they have a house by the beach. And a hamster, of course

• I also choose to believe they were girlfriends in the Ghost Hotel au before Aoi passed, then they got reunited when Nene arrived at the hotel

• Nene cries very easily and Aoi is a good fake-crier

• Aoi is a little spoon, pass it on

That's all I can think of rn, tysm for your ask! I am going to continue brainrotting over Aoinene for the foreseeable future lmao

#aoinene #flower fish #yashikane #nene yashiro #aoi akane #headcanons #aoinene headcanons #ship headcanons #ask #ask me anything #tbhk #toilet bound hanako kun

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listener-symphony · 10 months ago

Text

I’m bored and I have the power to randomly generate pairs and such, soo, making up random interactions with randomized pairs (plus one trio cuz there’s an odd number). Below the cut because it’s gonna be long (there’s a lot of characters!

(Also it’s okay if nobody has anything they want to send in as an ask but if you’re just being shy or worried I want you to know that 99% of the time askblogs would love to receive an ask and you’re not being a bother by doing it. Don’t know if anybody needed to hear that it’s just I personally always get worried that askblogs receive too many asks so I try not to send them but I’ve done ask series in the past so I know that usually they would love to get a single ask and if they DO have too many they would close the ask box or say something about it, so if they haven’t, you should always send something. That’s all, hope this doesn’t sound like I’m begging for asks I’m just trying to give genuine advice for interacting with askblogs lol)

Okay now to the randomized interactions!

LimL!Pearl: Oh! Hi Lizzie! How are you doing…?

SL!Lizzie: …

3L!Scar: She’s probably come to see her husband again.

LimL!Pearl: Oh right! I thought he usually goes to the cliff to visit her though…?

3L!Scar: Well, some nights she comes to make sure we aren’t all staying up late here in the desert…

*SL!Lizzie glares at 3L!Scar*

3L!Scar: …I’m always asleep at night Lizzie… you don’t need to look at me like that… I only know about you coming here some nights because- uh- UH-

LimL!Pearl: uh oh…

DL!Scott: hey Ren…

DL!Ren: oh, hello! What’s up?

DL!Scott: you’re a dog hybrid, right?

DL!Ren: yup! What about it?

DL!Scott: well, my Soulbound is one as well, so I was wondering if maybe you could explain why she’s been acting so… weird?

DL!Ren: …what kind of weird?

DL!Scott: you know… the way she’s been acting since we arrived here.

DL!Ren: …I don’t think that has anything to do with her being a wolf, honestly.

DL!Scott: okay, thanks anyway…

LimL!Jimmy: HALT! I’m stealing that sheep!

3L!Etho: no please! I managed to get it all the way here from the Ranch! I can’t let you double steal it!

LimL!Jimmy: …wait, you stole it?

3L!Etho: well, yeah, they’re the only ones with sheep. Singular. This is the only sheep. How did you not know that?

LimL!Jimmy: …and you stole it from the Ranchers?

3L!Etho: …yes…?

LimL!Jimmy: …you know what? I’ll help.

3L!Etho: :D

3L!Jimmy: So… you’ve had those crystals since the beginning, you said…

LL!Scott: … I don’t see why you care so much…

3L!Jimmy: Future Big Man Scott… I know what those crystals mean-

LL!Scott: I’m sorry I can’t have a serious and dramatic emotional conversation if you’re gonna call me that.

3L!Jimmy: Sorry!!! I don’t know what to call you!!! Scott’s my husband and you’re… not!

LL!Scott: ….. I don’t feel like talking about this right now. But, for future reference, I suppose you could call me… Stars?

3L!Jimmy: …Okay, Stars.

LL!Mumbo: So you mean to tell me, your version of me killed Scar?

SL!BigB: yup. And that’s why he’s not here. He swallowed him whole and he can never recover from that.

LL!Mumbo: he WHAT?! Okay, I gotta ask the other me if this is true…

SL!BigB: you can’t.

LL!Mumbo: why…?

SL!BigB: because when he ate Scar, Scar took over his brain, so he doesn’t remember anything.

LL!Mumbo: …I’m terrified.

LL!Scar: This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve asked me for a love crystal, you know.

DL!Martyn: wait, really? What did the other me want with one?

LL!Scar: no idea! Maybe to help his awful marriage or something. Actually, was Mumbo still alive at that point? Ah, the memories all blur together. Anyways! You’re gonna have to promise me something good in return.

DL!Martyn: But… I don’t have anything!

LL!Scar: Me neither! Thats why you have to promise me something.

DL!Martyn: wait, do you even have any crystals?

LL!Scar: hahaha… nope! Still waiting for Santa to give me that Crystal Making Kit for Christmas.

DL!Martyn: …you mean Symphony? Ugh, whatever, I’ll come back when you actually have crystals, I guess…

LL!Scar: don’t scoff at me when you don’t even have anything to pay with!!

LL!Tango: Are the rumors true? Are you actually… washed up?

LimL!Etho: man 😭

LL!Martyn: so… you won…

LimL!Martyn: yes. What about it?

LL!Martyn: …did they… are they… are you… happy?

LimL!Martyn: ….it was satisfying. What about you? How’s losing feel, loser?

LL!Martyn: …… rude. You’re quite rude for a giant scary… pirate.

LimL!Martyn: isn’t your name Fart or something?

LL!Martyn: listen dude I’m being incredibly vulnerable right now and you are not very nice about it. I’m leaving.

LimL!Martyn: don’t know what you expected. Especially when your name is Fart-

LL!Martyn: BYE!

Gem: Hey Skizz!

LL!Skizz: oh hey… Gem! Wow, you’re the only one of your kind…

Gem: my kind??

LL!Skizz: Gems! There’s like four Skizzles and only one Gem!

Gem: oh, yeah… honestly, it’s kind of scary, especially since it’s like nobody knows me except Secret Lifers…

LL!Skizz: aw, that’s sad! I’m sure you can fit in with the rest of us soon enough!

Gem: Aw, thanks Skizz!

3L!Skizz: Hey Impulse… The Impulse I know is up in Lonely Cliff, and I know he betrayed my guys, but I’m still kind of worried about him, you know? So I was wondering if you knew anything that could convince him to talk to us again…?

LL!Impulse: hm… maybe he wants to play some fun British games

3L!Skizz: …never mind…???

LL!Lizzie: so… you’re saying that your Joel is… a bad boy?

LimL!Grian: ……you can’t have him

LL!Lizzie: DARN!

SL!Scott: ohhhhh no please don’t do it please don’t-

SL!Jimmy: THE FLORIST SENDS HIS REGARDS!

SL!Scott: NO HE DOESN’T!!! HE HASN’T SPOKEN TO YOU!!! I SAW HIM!!!

SL!Martyn: *sniffsniff*

LL!Bdubs: WHY DOES EVERYONE ALWAYS SNIFF??

SL!Martyn: I can smell it… you have… relationship issues

LL!Bdubs: NO I DO NOT!!! ETHO AND I ARE VERY HAPPY!!! GET OUTTA HERE YOU MUTT!!!

3L!BigB: Dang it’s crazy that Dog Martyn can sniff out relationship issues

LL!Etho: huh? Where’d you hear that from?

3L!BigB: oh well he just did it to- uhh… UHHH…

SL!Skizz: ……. So you’re… with Top?

DL!Jimmy: …excuse me?

SL!Skizz: you know, Tango Top?

DL!Jimmy: …I think that’s between me and Tango-

LimL!Joel: WHY ARE YOU HUMAN?!

SL!Cleo: Why aren’t you?

LimL!Joel: …

LL!Pearl: So, if you had to choose between Gaslight, Gatekeep, and Girlboss which one would you be?

LimL!Scott: I’m thinking Girlboss. But I’d be… Gillboss.

LL!Pearl: … you’re nothing like the Scott I know…

LimL!Scott: ???? Well yeah, he’s not a fish…

3L!Ren: That ship you live in seems dangerous… wouldn’t you rather live in a castle in the Kingdom?

DL!Etho: You don’t even know the half of it, Ren… But also, I don’t think you want all the Shipwreckers in your Kingdom.

3L!Ren: …Yeah, okay, I admit I’m a little afraid of you Double Lifers.

SL!Mumbo: so we’re best friends for real now, since Secret Life is over right?

SL!Etho: ?? no

SL!Mumbo: 🥺😭

LL!BigB: you know, if your scary wife is too scary for you, you could always change your identity a little…

SL!Joel: nothing is too scary for me, especially not my scary wife.

LL!BigB: okay, but I’m just saying, she would never be looking for anyone named Jerry.

SL!Joel: …?

LimL!BigB: So… anything interesting going on in your life?

SL!Impulse: if I hit things with sticks it kind of works like drums

LimL!BigB: …so a no, then

LimL!Scar: Mom, how many divorces do you have to go through?!

DL!Cleo: wtf

LL!Cleo: So who in Lonely Cliff is Gaslight, who is Gatekeep, who is Girlboss?

DL!Grian: …I’d be Gatekeep, Impulse would be Gaslight, and Lizzie would be Girlboss. Now go away.

LL!Cleo: Okay… but I really think all you Loners should hang out more. Could be good for you.

DL!Grian: I said go away.

LL!Ren: Second place…?

LimL!Impulse: Second place.

LL!Ren: …congrats.

LimL!Impulse: …you too.

3L!Tango: …

LimL!Tango: …

3L!Tango: …what is up with the Jimmys

LimL!Tango: I know right?! They’re so obsessed with that other Tango!

3L!Tango: I just think it’s weird, are you jealous?

LimL!Tango: NO

3L!Bdubs: CAN YOU STOP FLYING UP TO MY WINDOW?!

DL!Scar: what’s the point in all these tall towers if nobody’s meant to fly up them?

3L!Bdubs: you’re the ONLY ONE WHO FLIES

DL!Scar: ahh, I see, jealous that I’m the only one who has figured it out.

3L!Bdubs: NO!!! Ugh, maybe it’s a Double Lifer thing…

LimL!Skizz: yup! He died first!

3L!Scott: wow… that’s four times in a row… I don’t know if I should tell him or not, honestly… I’m also not sure if it makes me feel better…?

LL!Jimmy: okay, I’ve caved. I’m here.

DL!Tango: oh hi! …what do you mean

LL!Jimmy: I’m here to see what all the fuss is about! Why do Jimmys keep coming here?!

DL!Tango: well, I guess they’re just curious about their soulmate…?

LL!Jimmy: okay but nobody is crowding that one Scott.

DL!Tango: because… Ranchers for Life.

SL!Pearl: maybe you can fill the Cleo shaped hole in my heart…

3L!Cleo: …I’m married

SL!Pearl: …that’s… not what I meant…

3L!Cleo: then PLEASE work on your wording. Also, TERRIBLE way to start a conversation.

DL!Bdubs: have you SEEN my version of you??

3L!Grian: well… yeah… he talked to me.

DL!Bdubs: REALLY? He’s been avoiding everyone though!

3L!Grian: he wanted to know what happened with me and Scar… it’s pretty sad to hear how things went for them in your world.

DL!Bdubs: oh yeah they died badly.

3L!Grian: …. in my world we killed you

DL!Bdubs: OUCH!

SL!Bdubs: you should change your wizard tower into a slide

LL!Joel: …what

DL!BigB: heyyy…

LL!Grian: hmm?

DL!BigB: you’re a Grian… I was wondering if you could explain anything about my Grian…

LL!Grian: probably not.

DL!BigB: dang, not even gonna try?

LL!Grian: nah, I have nothing to do with THAT drama.

SL!Tango: the Bdubs in my world calls Etho daddy too

LimL!Bdubs: ☹️

DL!Pearl: HEY!

3L!Impulse: AH.. oh.. you scared me!!

DL!Pearl: Hehee… anyways… I’m just worried about you Loners! If I hadn’t made up with my Soulmate, I’d be here too! I know how much it sucks. So, is there any way I can help?

3L!Impulse: …no. I don’t really fit in anywhere…

DL!Pearl: oh come on! I’m sure everyone else at The Nose would love to have you!

3L!Impulse: hh… I feel like I’d be shot double dead if I was spotted at the Nose.

DL!Pearl: hm.. there’s surely someone who would like to welcome you! What about your soulmate?

3L!Impulse: who…?

DL!Pearl: Bdubs! You two loved each other so much…!

*3L!Impulse has clock flashbacks*

LimL!Cleo: Are you treating my son well?

DL!Impulse: uhh… well yeah, but… he’s not your son?

LimL!Cleo: well my actual son doesn’t have any partners so I’m just checking on the other versions of my son. Especially yours. Since in my world you killed him.

DL!Impulse: Oh, well, none of that here! Bdubs and I would never kill each other! …Well, he accidentally killed me technically, but that doesn’t matter! Also… I don’t know how I feel about pretending you’re my mother in law….

SL!Grian: hey emo boy did you know we’re soulmates in Secret Life

3L!Joel: don’t call me- wasn’t the soulmate season Double Life?

SL!Grian: Yeah but we were soulmates anyways isn’t that crazy 🥰

3L!Joel: … go away

SL!Grian: all you Joels are the same 😭

3L!Martyn: Ren is the best

DL!Joel: no, ETHO is the best!!!

3L!Martyn: BLASPHEMY! Lord Ren the Red King is the greatest!!!

DL!Joel: well, I don’t see his face on your shirt! But look at MINE!

*they argue*

13 notes · View notes