#please just live and let live I just cannot with this

[viaviavie]

OPERATION CINDERELLA-SABOTAGE [HEARTSLABYUL]

in which he rescues you from your very short-lived wedding.

SUMMARY: due to a massive misunderstanding, a prince from royal sword academy is set to wed you at sunset. thankfully, your un-princely crush is here to save the day and crash this lovely wedding.

PAIRINGS: everyone x fem reader (separately)

WARNINGS: they're being a bit dramatic, characters are 18+, makeout (cater)

NOTES: this is echoes the ghost bride event, but listening to this prompted me to write out this scenario instead. i made this for shits and giggles, so have fun with this!

HEARTSLABYUL | SAVANACLAW | OCTANIVELLE | SCARABIA | POMEFIORE | IGNIHYDE | DIASOMNIA

There was no way you would be able to say 'no' now, not when there were hundreds of Royal Sword Academy students and even more members of a random royal family whose last names you cannot recall waiting outside that door. Aside from a completely oblivious Neige and Che'nya who was nowhere to be found, there was no one you could really ask for help to get you out of this mess.

You turn to your supposed betrothed with frantic eyes, shaking your head wildly. "I already told you, I'm not the one you danced with at the ball!" Your hisses fell on deaf ears. That damned prince from Royal Sword Academy was too busy making the 'goo-goo' eyes at you to even register what you were saying.

"I just happened to have the same shoe-size!"

Damn it, why did you have to agree to fitting some missing girl's shoe?!

Pierce Charmant, possibly the most delusional guy you have ever met in Twisted Wonderland, clung onto your calf with a stubborn expression. He had no intentions of letting you go, and neither did his five other guards that had blocked your way.

"You have to be her!"

"You don't even know my name!"

You were really counting on Grim to get someone, anyone, to stop this wedding. Yet, as you are walked down the aisle by the fair Neige, you are already planning out a divorce settlement plan. Based on the number of guests here, who had filled this entire venue from top to bottom, you would have guessed that this prince was rather rich. If it was to be an unhappy marriage, at least your wallet would be more than compensated.

You managed to convince this prince to send invitations to Night Raven College, but that didn't matter. He was so excited and in a hurry to marry, that your friends barely had any time to rescue you! There must have been so much traffic with the mirrors that they couldn't even use them! There was just no way that they'd make it in time now.

And so you consign yourself to readying some divorce papers within the next few weeks, and planning out how to avoid any more interactions with this guy while you were married.

You stood at the chapel's base, your expression exasperated than ever as you kept darting your gaze to the door. You've already tripped over the aisle a few times, fumbled the scripted vows, and even called for a bathroom break or two to stall.

And now comes the big moment that you were so desperately trying to avoid.

"Would you, Pierce Charmant, take the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, as your lawfully wedded wife?"

The prince smiles so sickly sweet, and its the look of a man who won't change his mind.

"I do."

You grimace as the officiant faces you, just as blind to your annoyed expression.

"Would you, the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, take Pierce Charmant as you lawfully wedded husband?" They didn't even use your name!

You pause, the image of your crush flashing before your eyes.

You would never see him again if you let yourself get married. Defiance returns to your face as you suck in a deep breath, ready to deal with the consequences of rejecting this delusional prince in front of hundreds of people.

"I—"

"I object!"

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

"Grim, please explain to me why I received an invitation to the Prefect's wedding... I am calm, Trey. I would just prefer to know the details before I go and fetch her myself... and may I ask one more thing? Yes, hoW IN THE WORLD DID THE PREFECT GET KIDNAPPED LIKE THIS?! DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO CALM ME DOWN, CATER. I AM PERFECTLY CALM."

Riddle calmly asked about your whereabouts, and it does not take him long to immediately get to work. As one of the better respected housewardens among the roster, it was easier to ask for a few favors that could get him to that damned cathedral fast. However, as the traffic did pile up to get to this accursed wedding, Riddle finds himself on horseback.

He does have this awful crush on you, but it never really crosses his mind. Even as he holds certain feelings for you, it's at the back of his mind. Riddle values your autonomy, and this marriage was a massive red flag. Surely, you cannot have possibly agreed to such a thing. It was just not in your nature. You would have protested, and the fact that you are not back in campus means that something is preventing you from speaking your mind. Riddle really respects you in this aspect!

Still, the idea of you marrying some prince who barely knew it was absolutely absurd. Riddle won't allow it, he absolutely won't!

The doors were flung open with a loud thud, revealing a red-head in a suit. Much to your surprise, Riddle isn't burning red with a fiery rage and threatening to have everyone's head off. He's stomping towards you and your supposed groom, fist clenched as he throws out an arm out of anger. He doesn't seem too angry, but determined.

"ENOUGH! SHE WILL BE COMING BACK TO NIGHT RAVEN COLLEGE WITH ME NOW."

Okay, maybe you were wrong about him not being angry.

His voice echoes throughout the entire cathedral, followed by several flinches at his sheer volume. Immediately, the crowd by the rows inch back a bit further as he continues to march forward, ignoring the guards that seemed to hesitate to approach him. Pierce raises a brow, almost annoyed rather than fearful of this disturbance.

"There seems to be a misunderstanding. You see, the Prefect is going to be married to me. You can sort out your affairs after the ceremony is over." Well, that didn't seem to help one bit, judging by how Riddle seemed to fume even further at this statement.

The housewarden comes to a halt, sucking in a sharp breath to calm his temper. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to frighten you.

He breathes out your name, sending a stutter through your heart.

"Do you truly want to marry this man?"

It almost makes you swoon, the way Riddle looks at you so earnestly as he asks for some affirmation. Had it been any other scenario, you would've taken your time to bore your eyes into his and study his expression. Instead, you shake your head wildly, racing down the aisle until you have hidden yourself behind him.

Riddle has the nerve to smirk at the shocked Prince. "And here, I thought princes had a code of conduct when it came to their ladies." He turned back to you with an assuring look. "I'll take you home, Prefect."

Truly, Riddle had no intentions of playing around. He had only one objective, to get you out of here. Just as he turns around to escort you out of the cathedral, a pair of guards had blocked the exit.

"No, I cannot let you leave!" Pierce cried out, ready to give chase. "Prefect, please! Give me a chance. You cannot possibly be ready to leave me for... this guy!"

Riddle's eye twitches as he cranes himself to look at the prince. "You have some nerve!" He clicks out, clenching his fists once more. Everyone feels the cathedral heat up, those closer to the aisles feeling beads of sweat form upon their temples. Even as you looked at Riddle so gently, a part of you was somewhat grateful that he was sticking up for you.

Just as his top was about to blow, you muster the will to tug on Riddle's sleeve. As quickly as his reddened face came, it disappears when he glances back at your soft expression. Huffing out a heavy sigh, Riddle clicks his tongue and marches towards the exit.

"Let's be on our way, Prefect. We shouldn't waste our precious time on these trifles."

Needless to say, no one really wanted to test the housewarden's patience as he escorted you out of that Cathedral. Riddle certainly doesn't waste time hoisting you onto his horse and galloping away, not giving the prince a second to try and retrieve you.

He grumbles about the entire ordeal, mostly questioning the absolute ridicule of the marriage. What kind of prince thinks he can get away with it? Riddle is certain to send a complain to Royal Sword Academy regarding their lessons on conduct if no one tries to stop him.

You could easily see Night Raven College from afar as you peeked from behind his tuft of red hair. Riddle is still rambling, a preferable alternative to losing his temper entirely. "That ruffian dares to marry you and has yet to learn your name! How uncouth!" He spat in absolute distaste, and he finds comfort in the way you giggle in agreement.

Riddle doesn't seem to take note of the way your arms are crossed around his middle, or maybe he does, and just chooses not to let his blush show. He cleared his throat, gripping the reigns a bit tighter. "You will find better suitors, Prefect. Just promise me that he wouldn't be so impulsive as that Prince."

TREY CLOVER

"Can you drive any faster, Deuce? No, I don't think we're late. Better safe than sorry! ... Suit, check. Speech, check. Myself, check. I've got everything in order, but... hah, I'd expect to do this type of thing a few years down the line, let alone object at a wedding at all. At least, it's the Prefect's wedding... That's such a weird thing to conceptualize at this point in time."

He really didn't have to be so dramatic about the entire thing, but Trey is really going all-out for this objection. Really, all he's done is seen movies where someone objects at a wedding and while he knows its entirely fictional, our boy here has to drive the point home; no one is marrying the Prefect today.

So that explains why he even bothered to dress up and rehearse a speech throughout the entire ride to the cathedral. He has Heartslabyul helping him out to secure an escape for you in case things went awry. Sure, Trey's Unique Magic won't come in handy but he's good with his words, and is relatively charismatic. He's earned that title of Vice Housewarden, after all.

All that preparation flies out the window when he sees you down the aisle, however.

"Trey?"

He's blinking profusely, almost flustered himself by how radiant you looked in that wedding dress. For a moment, Trey swears that he's had some sort of tunnel vision when all he seems to see is you. It strikes some envy in him when he reminds himself that this wasn't his wedding, and this wouldn't be yours either.

"Prefect..." Trey breathed out, struggling to recall the damn script he was supposed to follow. They are lost, just as he found himself lost in your sparkling gaze.

Screw the script, he was just going to have to wing this one.

He narrows his eyes onto the shocked prince, taking steps down that long carpet. "I've come to bring you back to Night Raven College."

Pierce raises a brow, glancing back at you and the intruder with suspicion. "On what grounds?" He questions snidely, uncertain of what to make of this new character. "If it is for anything trivial, then you may bother the Prefect later. You are obstructing a ceremony here, sir."

You recognize that dangerous glint behind Trey's eyes, and it only serves to make your heart race. Trey simply smirks, hiding away his hesitant exterior with a haughty farce. "I am afraid it cannot wait. I cannot allow the Prefect to be married without saying my piece."

He doesn't exactly know where all his bravado was coming from, but if he had to confess his feelings to you now, then so be it.

Trey looks at you, flashing a gentle yet sheepish smile. "Prefect, I fell for you. Hook, line, and sinker." You let out a dramatic gasp along with the onlookers, allowing a hand to fly to your parted lips. "I have harbored those feelings for a long time now, and I cannot bring myself to see you married without letting my heart be known."

Swallowing to himself, Trey's expression falters slightly, falling into one of softness. "Prefect, it is your happiness that I desire. No matter what happens, I will support your choice."

He didn't exactly have to tell you twice, not when you hurry yourself over to his side and latch onto his arm. You didn't have to feed his ego like that, but it isn't as if Trey had any room to complain.

Pierce is angered by the sight, glaring daggers at Trey with such envy and animosity. "Prefect, are you really leaving me on the altar?" As if to subtly annoy the prince even further, Trey hooks an arm around your waist and pivots you to turn. "It seems to be so, Prince Pierce. I fear that your beautiful bride will be stolen on this lovely afternoon."

You do not miss the way Trey smirks at your flustered expression. Just as he continues to walk you to the exit, you gritted your teeth at him. "Don't say such things!" You tell him as the heat rises to your cheeks. You hear him hum at your ear, followed by the slight press of his fingers on your hip.

"Why shouldn't I? You look beautiful in this dress," Trey murmurs in your ear, pushing the cathedral door open with his hand. "And I suppose that the prince hasn't coaxed this expression out of you. I almost feel sorry for him, that he never got the chance to see how lovely you are when you are putty in my hands."

Trey doesn't stop teasing you, even once you are back in Night Raven College. He wouldn't stop complimenting you either, aiming to have you as red as possible. He just can't help it. It's probably the high he got from confessing his feelings to you, or maybe it's the part where you're unsure if he was being sincere or not. Regardless, it was fun seeing you get all flustered because of him.

You are seated by the Heartslabyul's kitchen counter, snacking on some quick treats that Trey had prepared for you. He claims that it was a consolation for the fact you never got to taste your own wedding cake. Still clad in your grand wedding dress, you couldn't exactly care any less about the crumbs soiling the skirts. "You're no prince charming, Trey." You mentioned mid-bite, eyes glancing at the vice-housewarden who was seated across from you.

"What makes you say that?" He asks you with a slight smile, resting his chin on his palm as he shamelessly bored his gaze into yours.

You snort, rolling your eyes at his seemingly sweet disposition. "Prince Charmings don't tease the girls that they like until they're as red as Riddle." You huffed, digging your fork into the pastry. "You cruel man! You haven't stopped ever since you stole me from the prince!"

Trey chuckles, and you cannot keep yourself from gulping as he leaves his seat, sauntering towards you like a lion would his prey. "Oh? I suppose that I am no Prince Charming. I'm not a pure white knight either. If you think I am being cruel, I won't stop you, sweetheart."

Your heart stutters as he slides a finger underneath your chin, tilting your head so that your forced to look his way. Trey smiles at you, eyes twinkling with absolute mischief. "I highly doubt Prince Charmings steal kisses from their crushes either. For you, I will be kind. May I, sweetheart? I do not need your shoe size to know my feelings for you, at least."

CATER DIAMOND

"Gah, it just refreshed! They've just gotten past the walking part! Deuce, shortcut on your left! Sorry, I'm switching tabs between maps and the livestream! Prefect looks is such a cutie in that dress, it makes me so envious of the prince! Oh well, she really looks like she doesn't wanna be there anyways. I'm coming Prefect! I'll save you!"

There's just this image of Cater clinging onto Deuce on a blastcycle, raising his phone up for a signal as they attempt to maneuver their way through the streets. Everything just happened in such a rush, and Cater's scrambling to get to you. He isn't like Trey who bothers to prepare, but if anything, Cater will ramp up the dramatics to the maximum.

His real goal is just to get you out by any means necessary, and more preferably, without violence. So Cater will do what he does best; make a grand spectacle of the entire thing until the prince is forced to abdicate. Worst case scenario, he's going to drag you out the door and shove you onto the damn blastcycle.

If he has to play the part of your real paramour, then he hopes you'll forgive him. He's got the suit and the desperate look on his face ready to go!

Your jaw goes slack at the way Cater makes a dramatic run for the aisle, somewhat unused to that stricken expression on his face. You're almost concerned for him with the way he grips his knees, attempting to keep his balance as his eyes zone in onto yours.

"Prefect, you can't marry him!" It's too out of character of Cater, and you know better than to think he'd ever be this undone in public. "Is this what you really want?!" Before you could even reply, Pierce cuts in with a slight glare.

"And who are you to talk to my bride like that?" It is then when you catch wind of that mischievous glint in Cater's eye as he throws out his arm dramatically.

"I am the Prefect's sweetheart! Who are you to take my girlfriend like that?"

You have never heard the cathedral go so silent. You are utterly speechless, lips parted with absolute surprise. Clearly, judging by the way sweat had begun to form on the side of Cater's temple, you cannot help but think that this was all improv on his half.

Pierce turns to look at you, almost stricken by the ginger's declaration. "Prefect, is that true?" His voice trembles with fear. "Is that truly your... sweetheart?"

A part of you feels a bit sorry for what you were about to do, but you had to remind yourself that you had been dragged into a wedding on the same day you met this prince.

You are running now, sprinting to Cater's side as you clutch his hand in your own. Turning back to the scandalized prince, you nod firmly, playing along with the farce. "We've been dating for a long time now! And I'm in love with him!" You declare, sending gasps throughout the entire cathedral.

You glance up at Cater, mustering a smile across your features. "You came to save me!" He's almost surprised by the way you cling onto him even harder, but it only serves to sell the act even further. Cater smiles in return, holding you closely. "I'd never let you go, cutie. I love you too much to let you leap into the arms of another man."

Maybe the act is too good, too calculated. That is exactly what goes through your head as Pierce raises a brow in suspicion, narrowing his eyes onto the pair as if attempting to spot a mistake. "Is that so?" He murmurs until he crosses his arms, disbelief on his skeptical expression.

"Prove it."

Cater and you freeze up simultaneously, heads turning to glance at one another. He looked so caught off guard by Pierce's demand, and there's so many eyes on you both.

"You're both longtime sweethearts, right? I wouldn't want to split apart such a happy couple..."

Cater is staring at you, attempting to read your expression. It's difficult, especially when you look at him as your gaze gets even more glossy. He wouldn't want to do anything you didn't want to, and he's already readying himself to sprint out the door with you in tow.

"Prefect, you don't have to—mmph!"

You wasted no time in snaking your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against him with such boldness. He could feel you pour all your wants and longings into the kiss, the plush of your soft lips melding into his own. How could he not deny you his own affections, not as he cups your cheeks with his slender fingers and presses back against you.

He dares to go even further, pulling back for a slight gasp of air before diving back into you. Much to his delight, you aren't pulling away either, choosing to even entangle your fingers into his hair for leverage.

Then you hear a groan from the prince, followed by his pleas for you two to stop this display. It seems that he got the point now, at least.

Even as both of you exit the cathedral, Cater still maintains the image that he was your boyfriend. You don't exactly protest, and even then, it didn't seem to different to the way Cater had been treating you as a friend. He is still as clingy as ever, closing the physical proximities by having you hang onto his arm.

And you best believe he's snapping as much photos of you to commemorate the event. He's already updating his MagiCam account on his success, not to mention the pretty girl on his arm.

"Cater, what are you doing?" You asked, unable to hide the grin on your face as Cater sets up his camera against the tire of the blastcycle. You could see yourselves on the reflection of the device, followed by the grand beauty of the cathedral behind you both. He grins at you as he shifts at your side.

"What? It isn't everyday a cutie like you gets to look like a bride. We got the perfect backdrop!" He sings, sliding an arm around your waist as he strikes for a pose. You follow his lead, matching his energy with each shot.

"Careful! People are going to think we're dating for real!"

Cater smirks at you, leaning in closely to your ear with a sickeningly sweet tease. "Wanna make it official then, cutie? Can't have any random princes asking for your hand, not when you're dating me." He is not stranger to the way you blush, letting out a chuckle at the sight.

"Aw, cutie! Are you still thinking about the kiss? I didn't think you would be so bold about it." Pressing a quick peck on the cheek, he rests his chin on your head as he prepares for another pose. "Don't worry. CayCay's gonna initiate it next time!"

DEUCE SPADE

"Grim, which way?! I can't see the GPS! ... Don't I just have to go in there and yell 'I object'? It looks easy! I'll say it then drag Prefect out of there... Ha?! I need to prove that I have a good reason to get her out? Fine! I don't care, the Prefect needs me!"

Possibly the closest we will get to a legit Prince Charming. Perhaps Deuce is a bit on the rugged side, but he's possibly one of the most earnest and noble students from Night Raven College. He cares about you more than he cares about getting his feelings across, but that is not to say he won't be honest about it either in this confrontation.

He's not exactly sure on how to break up the ceremony. Grim and Ace are coaching him through what to say, and admittedly, the process seems too complicated. All he knows is that he has to run through those doors and convince the prince to not marry the Prefect by any means necessary.

"Deuce!"

He is the one to always come running at the sound of your name. Deuce had been someone you trusted during your stay here in Twisted Wonderland, and you never seemed to stop and think about just how attached that boy was to you. Sure, you held him closely as a friend and held affections for him, but the way he sprinted towards you was a testament to how much he cared.

"Prefect!" You are racing to meet him halfway, launching yourself into his chest. He catches you barreling into his suit, immediately wrapping his arms around you in a protective manner. Then he takes you by the soldiers, looking down at you with such concern and worry. "Are you hurt? Are you okay?" He fusses, earning a shy smile from you.

"I'm okay, Deuce. I'm okay."

"And what is the meaning of this?"

Catching sight of the infuriated prince, Deuce beckons you to stand behind him. Cerulean eyes narrow onto the groom with animosity, accompanied by the way his hands are itching towards his wand. "I can't let you marry her. The Prefect will be returning to Night Raven College with me." You can sense the nervousness in his tone, but Deuce remains firm in his words.

Pierce's eye twitches, and he scoffed in disbelief at Deuce's protective display. "I am afraid that cannot be possible. I am marrying the Prefect, and that is final." Clicking his tongue, Pierce rolls his eyes and holds out his hand for you to take. "Come, darling. I am not surprised that you have garnered the affections of an admirer, but I fancy you more than this one ever could."

Something in Deuce snaps as he lets out a cry.

"But I love her!"

You stiffen against his back, taken by surprise by Deuce's sudden confession. And the boy glares, and it almost so painful for Pierce to keep his stare, not when there was so much conviction and certainty behind Deuce's voice.

"I've loved her longer than you have, and known her much longer than that!" His voice cracks underneath the emotional turmoil bubbling within him. "Did you even stop to consider what she wants? Did you wonder if this wedding would make her happy in the first place?!"

You take note of how Deuce's fists are clenched pale, how his breaths had suddenly grown haggard. With a soft expression, you curl yourself onto his back, arms hugging him from behind in an attempt to placate him. His body stiffens against your hold, but he reaches to clasp your hands onto his own.

He is just thankful that you aren't seeing the way his eyes had begun to water at the thought of losing you entirely. "So please," He chokes out, expression twisted with a sort of agony.

"Please don't force her to marry you. She deserves so much more than that."

Thanks to the waterworks that Deuce had caused, the wedding was called off. There was just no way that the prince could marry you after Deuce poured his heart out to deter him from wedding you.

It's almost sweet, the way that Deuce lifts you onto the blastcycle and fixes the helmet onto your head. He encourages you to hold onto him tightly as he speeds away from the cathedral, all the more determined to settle you back into NRC.

By the time he's dropped you off at the Ramshackle Dorm, only then does he take the time to bask in how radiant you appeared in a wedding dress. Thinking about his crush in a wedding dress had never crossed Deuce's mind before, but this definitely gave him something to ponder about for the next couple of nights.

You are handing him the helmet, a shy smile surfacing across your features. "Thank you for saving me from that awful wedding." Deuce clears his throat, shifting his gaze as he takes the helmet from your grasp. "I didn't want you to do something you weren't willing to. It just isn't right."

He doesn't realize just how dry his throat as gotten when he cannot bring himself to keep his thoughts to himself. "I love you. I really do, and I wish I said it at a better time." He swallows to himself, letting the embarrassment burn into the back of his head as he recalls his declaration. It was only natural that 'like' would turn into 'love' after being your close confidant for this long, pining quietly during the months spent with you.

You cannot exactly blame him either, not when his feelings were entirely reciprocated. You shift on the balls of your heel, biting onto your lower lip.

And in a swift motion, you lean in to press a chaste kiss against Deuce's warm cheek. You pull away to bask upon the stunned expression on his face, only to give him a shy smile of your own.

"Would you be down to try confessing again tomorrow?"

ACE TRAPPOLA

"BAHAHAHAHA! THERE'S NO WAY THE PREFECT IS GETTING MARRIED. WHO WOULD EVER WANNA MARRY THE PREFECT? PFFFFT, GRIM, YOU'RE SERIOUSLY PULLING MY LEG HERE. YOU EVEN BROUGHT ME A FAKE INVITATION! AIN'T NO WAY THAT SHE— Oh... Wait, really? The wedding is happening right now? ... Oh."

Ace thought you were just messing him again for that one time he said that no one would ever be interested in you. He simply said that to discourage you from trying to pursue a relationship with anyone else, but he didn't mean for you to prove him wrong like that! He never believes Grim until Deuce, Riddle, and the rest of Heartslabyul receive invitations to a wedding that was meant to start in 3 hours.

This is the absolute worst time to be in denial about his feelings. The Prefect wearing a wedding gown is one thing, but another is the fact that the groom is some pompous prince from Royal Sword Academy. Does that guy seriously think he was your type? No way! Ace knows you better than anyone on this campus, so this guy can buzz off!

A part of him did think that you were serious about marrying this stranger. In all fairness, Crowley's allowance pales in comparison to whatever Mr. Money-Bags had over there. He wouldn't blame you if you were marrying the guy for money.

Still, the last thing he wants is for you to be whisked away to who knows where. Ace would never see you again, and as embarrassing as it sounds, he did get very attached to you. Yes, a part of him wants to keep you to himself, but he also values your autonomy here. And if he knew you that well, he knows that you wouldn't want to be married off like this.

"Prefect, I'm here to pick you up."

You are actually surprised by how princely Ace looked in that moment. Dressed in a suit befitting a groom, you could help but feel your breath stolen away once his scarlet eyes were pinned onto yours. You could have been fooled then, and perhaps, Ace did turn into a prince as he marched down the aisle with his arm outstretched for you to take.

Ace never realizes the way a victorious smile creeps onto his face when you break out into a grin, taking the skirt of your dress as you make run for it. The crowd gasps as you crashed into Ace's chest, and he does not hesitate to take a protective stance in front of you. With a haughty laugh, he smirks at the baffled prince. "Who are you?!"

The redhead's arm wraps around your waist, pressing your body closer to his own. "Sorry about that, but I'll be taking your bride indefinitely! Trust me, you'll be severely disappointed after spending one good day with her!" He snickered, much to your horrified expression. You lightly smack at his chest, glaring at him with that pout that he adores so much.

"Hey!" You whine, and Ace simply beams at the prince who hesitantly steps forward. The redhead snorts, rolling his eyes at the crowd that are offended at his immature display. "I'm doing you a great favor here! If you kissed those lips, she'll turn into an ugly green ogre by sunset!"

"HEY!"

Pierce's eyebrows are furrowed as he looks at you, as if pleading for you to return to his arms. "You'd best return her, boy. We can settle this maturely." Ace does not like the way that these bodyguards are eyeing him, shifting closer and closer as he backed you both towards the venue entrance. He never falters, and neither does that shit-eating grin on his face.

"Sorry, buddy. The clock's struck midnight and all your magic tricks are fading!" He barks. Now, he knows that an escape must be made. The last thing he wants is to have another Eliza-episode. He looks down at you with a wide grin, clasping you arm with a firm squeeze.

Ace sneaks into his pocket, still looking at you. "You know something, Charmant? Maybe not all the magic has gone yet." His hand reveals the Ace of Cards, and it is immediately thrown up into the air.

As the card reached its peak in height, a burst of smoke filled the air, obscuring the magician and yourself from view.

You don't exactly need a signal to start running when your feet began moving on their own, dashing towards the door followed by the Ace's laugh and the prince's demand for guards.

Ace has no white horse, but he has Deuce with his blastcycle! Who knows how the three of you managed to fit on that bike, but you made it work! The guards couldn't exactly catch up in their cars, not when Deuce was dodging vehicles left and right to make this escape. Ace did take one final look back, sticking his tongue out at the defeated prince before you all disappeared around the corner.

Ace gives you his shoes, despite how oversized they may be. You complained about those glass shoes on you, and to 'shut you up', he's given you his runners.

When you make it back to Night Raven College and all the adrenaline has died down, Ace stays by your side the entire time when you explain the entire situation to Crewel and Crowley. He acts so nonchalant about things, even as you both walk all over the campus like groom and bride.

It's a rather odd sight; you in your wedding gown, and Ace right next to you as you both sit on the bench by the Great Seven's statues. Students wandering about at night had given both of you puzzled stares, but no one is ever surprised when they realize it's you and Ace, however.

"Wow, Prefect. Not even a thank you?" He glances at your slightly annoyed expression, throwing his hands up defensively in response. "I was kidding about the ogre stuff! Really!"

You could only roll your eyes at his words, huffing as you crossed your arms across your chest. When you refuse to speak, Ace sticks out his lower lip into a pout as he leans his head onto your shoulder. "Come on, don't be like that. Are you actually that upset about it?"

There is no response from you, not even a glance as your nose is turned away from him. Then Ace sighs, practically clambering over your lap just so that you are forced to look at him. "Prefeeeect, I said I was sorry! What? Do I have to kiss you to make me apology authentic?"

Only then do you look back at him with a raised brow, almost expectant. Ace blinks with surprise, a slight blush creeping to his ears. "For real? You're serious?" He exclaimed, much to your agitation. You sigh even louder as you shove him off your lap, hastily getting up to your feet to leave him behind.

"Wait! Prefect, I said wait!" You feel a hand on your wrist, twirling you back to face the redhead. Ace bites onto his lower lip, unable to keep the red from flooding his cheeks. "I really just said all that mean stuff to get the prince off your back, you know? I didn't think you'd take it so seriously."

And when he sees that smirk creeping up onto your features, he groans as he leans in closely into your space.

"Now look at what you've done! You had me all panicked over what?" You feel his breath tickling your lips, followed by the way his hands crawl up your neck to cradle your jaw.

"If you just wanted a kiss, you could've asked..."

[neodymiumcuilz]

HELP A FAMILY IN NEED - URGENT CALL TO ACTION.

Hello everyone, this campaign is for @save-amal-family, who has reached out to me asking for help. They need $5000 to pay for surgery, please help save a life.

The people of Gaza are human just like you and I, and are forced into harsh conditions, and deprived of health care, shelter, food and other basic survival needs. They are deserving of a safe living environment and to have a access to surgery and health care. Please help them reach their goal, please help save lives, please don't ignore this and donate if you have the means. Please have empathy and compassion. Show your kindness here;

If you cannot donate, please spread the word so this reaches other donors. Please visit @save-amal-family, share their account, posts, campaign and get their voices and story heard. Ant actions/contributions make a difference. Let's save lives together.

Thank you.

Urgent 🚨 New link on Chuffed

Urgent help save my father's life

Hi everyone I hope you are doing well,

As The Israeli army is fighting us. GOFUNDME is also fighting us and has seized all the money I collected for treatment.and evacuation 🥺😭

From Gaza Strip Transfers from my account have been paused .

So I made a new link so I can pay for my father's surgery which costs $5000. The cost of treatment and medicines

I ask everyone to donate to me to save my father's life

@wayneradiotv @worm-suggestion @weirdmarioenemies @wolfertinger666 @wis-art @wingwaver @emil @rickybabyboy @redbuddi @rednines @tamamita @itwashotwestayedinthewater @prisonhannibal @punkitt-is-here @papasmoke @amygdalae @pitbolshevik @annabelle--cane @anarchblr @sporesgalaxy @drukhari @dailymonkiekid @danijaci @hotvampireadjacent @justsomeantifas @kurtwagnermorelikekurtwagnerd @kibumkim @klapollo @longseasons @lesbianchemicalplant @zvaigzdelasas @beetledrink @neechees @marxism-transgenderism @charlott2n @valtsv @nabulsi @gaza-evacuation-funds

[hisfavegirl]

Jacaerys Velaryon Clavin Klein Campaign.

Your eyes narrowed as you stared at the screen, heart pounding in your chest.

Jace had just posted his Calvin Klein campaign, and it was everywhere. Black-and-white shots, his toned abs, the way his jeans hung way too low on his hips—and worst of all, the damn smirk on his face like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

The comments were blowing up.

“OMG Jace is actually unreal.”

“This man has NO business looking this good.”

���I need a moment. Or ten.”

“I’m on my knees, literally.”

Your jaw clenched.

“Oh, so this is what we’re doing now?” you muttered under your breath, fuming.

Jace was in the kitchen, casually scrolling through his phone, completely unbothered.

You stormed in, phone in hand, and slammed it down on the counter.

“Really, Jace? Really?”

He looked up, blinking innocently. “What?”

You gestured aggressively at your phone. “This. This thirst trap you just posted for the entire world to drool over.”

Jace’s lips twitched like he was trying not to smirk. “Babe, it’s just a campaign—”

“Just a campaign?” you scoffed. “You’re half-naked, Jace! Everyone and their mother is in your comments talking about how they wanna climb you like a tree!”

Jace chuckled, leaning on the counter. “You jealous, baby?”

Your eyes flashed. “Oh, so now you’re enjoying this?”

Jace just grinned, all cocky and infuriating. “Kinda hot seeing you all worked up over me.”

You grabbed a dish towel and threw it at his face, but he was too quick, catching it midair.

“Fine. Two can play this game,” you huffed, unlocking your phone.

Jace’s eyes darkened immediately as he watched you open Instagram. “What are you doing?”

“Posting my own thirst trap.” You smirked, scrolling through your hottest pictures, about to make a statement.

Jace snatched the phone from your hands so fast you barely saw him move.

“Oh, hell no.”

You glared. “Oh, now you have a problem?”

Jace caged you against the counter, his arms on either side of you, his smirk gone.

“You don’t need to post anything, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low, possessive. “The only attention I need is yours.”

His hands slid to your waist, pulling you against him, his eyes locked on yours.

“But if you really need a reminder that you’re the only one I want…” His lips brushed your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“I can show you exactly who I belong to.”

The internet lost its mind the moment the video dropped.

Within seconds, Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok were in complete chaos.

The Video:

You were straddling Jace’s lap, one hand wrapped around his throat, the other tangled in his hair. Your body rocked against him, and his hands gripped your waist, effortlessly guiding your movements. He had that damn smirk, his eyes dark and full of amusement.

Then, just as if to ruin everyone’s lives, you leaned in, lips brushing against his ear, whispering something only he could hear. Jace’s smirk widened, his fingers digging into your hips, and then he bit his lip, looking way too pleased with himself.

And just like that, the internet exploded.

Twitter Reactions:

“I just watched this video 46 times and I still can’t breathe.”

“THIS is revenge??? She just ended all of us.”

“Jace in the CK campaign had me weak, but THIS??? I am deceased. RIP me.”

“THE HAND AROUND HIS THROAT. THE WHISPERING. THE WAY HE’S SMIRKING. I CANNOT.”

“Y’all, I think we just witnessed softcore porn and I’m not complaining.”

Instagram Comments (Under Jace’s Post):

“Bro, did you even SURVIVE that??”

“You just made every couple on this planet feel boring.”

“Not him looking like he’d let her do absolutely ANYTHING to him.”

“I need to know what she whispered IMMEDIATELY.”

“Jace blink twice if you need help—oh wait, you’re into this.”

TikTok Chaos:

🔗 Edits flooded the app—slow-motion replays of your fingers gripping Jace’s throat, the way his eyes darkened, the way your body moved together, all set to the most sinful R&B songs.

📈 Trending Hashtags:

#JaceIsGone #PowerCoupleGoals #ThroatGrabber #SheOwnsHimNow

Meanwhile, Jace’s Reaction:

He reposted the video on his Instagram story with just one caption:

“Revenge never looked this good.” 😏🔥

And just like that, he won again.

Tag list : @danytar @hangmanscoming @julessworldd @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry @callsignwidow @ashblooddragons

Thank to @zaldritzosrose gor letting me use your beautiful dividers ❤️‍🩹

[yuansie]

ocean memories : why, then, did thy fall?

synopsis. desire is influenced by the impulsive need to have something in one's heart. desire is bad and it is dangerous—you learn this very being that was supposed to have a blessed bond with you, the being that was meant to protect you all.

pairing. rafayel x fem! non mc! reader

warnings. (implied) death, an argument somewhere in there, mentions of hatred, destruction (?), reader prays bc lemuria going through it oops 💔💔 if there is anything i'm missing, please let me know!

genres. angst

rating. pg-13

w/c. 2.1k

a/n. HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAYYYYYYYY this is my gift to you heh... not proofread. we die like them today I MEAN WHAT

YOU FOUND A HUMAN BOOK ON ONE OF YOUR IMPROMPTU VISITS TO THE SURFACE WHEN YOU WERE A TEENAGER, and it had described an interesting concept that fascinated you to no end: time for humans. to humans, time is precious for they don’t have a long lifespan. time can fly by fast for them before they know it. for lemuria, time goes by slowly. lemurians have longer lifespans, immortality making a day for a human seem like a hundred years to the ancient civilization.

yet time has flown by fast for you in these recent months.

perhaps it is because you do not speak to the god of tides anymore, or it is because of the appearance of his most devout follower.

when it was revealed that rafayel had taken a human to live in his temple, lemurians were baffled. you spoke to them in a calming voice, easing the worries that began to swim in their heads.

the attention the devout follower was receiving, the words being whispered about her, eventually reached rafayel. he appeared to them while you lead a prayer, revealing to them that she is his devout follower before leaving.

of course, you were left with the aftermath of a panicked lemuria, one that questioned the intentions of their god. you told them that it is a good thing, the appearance of the devout follower, for it means that he will soon be the sea god.

lemuria calms down, and you are left with a heavy heart.

“please, put the flowers at the base of the pillars,” you instruct, watching the lemurians helping you prepare the temple for the ceremony. “and have them go up and wrap around the pillars.”

“yes, divine priestess.”

you smile, glancing to your side. arabelle stands next to you, her attention elsewhere. you tuck her black hair behind her ear, making sure it won’t tangle itself with the string of the veil she wears around her mouth—the one you used to don when you were training to be the god of tides’ priestess. “what is on your mind?”

arabelle looks at you, her silver eyes hesitant. “…miss priestess.”

“yes?”

“why are you not with him? are you not his devout follower?”

are you not his devout follower? the words echo loudly in your head.

“…it is because i am his priestess,” you answer carefully. “i cannot be the devout follower for the ceremony for i am needed by both the temple and the people.”

a deep and vibrant blue taints her silver eyes, seeping into the irises until it is fully consumed. glowing, blue eyes stare into your widened ones.

“you are his most devout follower,” a voice rings out from arabelle’s throat, sounding like rafayel’s yet different. “you are the one with the most blessed bond with him, the only one chosen by the deep sea and sea god.”

you watch as silver slowly replaces the blue in her irises. arabelle frowns, “it should be you in the temple tomorrow, miss priestess.” she quickly waves her hands in a panicked manner, shaking her head. “not that i doubt the god of tides! it just makes more sense for you—” she stops, her gaze downcast as you chuckle.

“it is fine to have doubts,” you tell her, gently ruffling her hair. “just don’t let anyone hear of them.”

the bells ring, and you and the girl watch everyone inside the temple trickle out before the doors close. you hold out your hand, arabelle grabbing it, and lead her to the room you used to stay in when you were younger. your eyes rake around it, noting how it lost all of your quirks and now reflects arabelle’s personality. her desk is piled up with neatly stacked books and sea shells decorate her walls.

“you know where to find me if you need anything, right?” you ask by the door. arabelle nods as she takes off her veil, grinning at you. “then i wish you a goodnight.”

“goodnight, miss priestess!”

you make it down the hall before a familiar voice speaks up.

“i did not know that i appointed a new priestess.”

he emerges from the shadows of the corridor that leads to your room. you spare a glance at him before walking past him, merely letting out a huff. “is that so?”

the god of tides follows after you. “why did you not tell me?”

“i am busy,” you shrug. “after all, i have to prepare the temple and the citizens accordingly for the ceremony. it is only natural i take in a child in these… lively times.”

“but that child was not chosen by me.” there is exasperation in his tone, and it irks you. what is there for him to be annoyed at?

“did she have to?” you swivel around to face him and tilt your head to the side, your eyes slightly narrowed. “you are busy with… your own affairs, so it falls to me to make these decisions for the greater good of lemuria.”

dual toned eyes stare at you with a sort of emotion you can’t pinpoint. perhaps it is anger that swirls in his blue and pink irises. “you—”

“i do not have time for this,” you mutter, turning around and continuing your walk back to your room. “and neither do you.”

“but y/n—”

“priestess y/n,” you correct, stopping at the entrance of your room. you push the door open and pause, “it is priestess y/n, my lord.”

“my lord?” the god of tides repeats, baffled. “since when have you called me that? since when have we used titles?”

“i have realized that i have grown lenient,” you reply, taking a step into your room. with a deep breath, you continue, “you and i have grown lenient.”

“lenient?” he repeats. “why do you say that?”

“because a priestess should not be calling their god by first name. our relationship should not be what it is now.”

“what are you—”

you take another step inside, twisting around to face him. your heart pounds in your chest, painfully aching at the words you’ve uttered. yet, you do not back down. he chose this as soon as he brought forth the human as his devout follower, and you are finally drawing the line. you should’ve done it ages ago for your relationship was never supposed to grow to this extent.

there was always going to be a line separating the two of you, and you both chose to ignore it when you were younger. but you are older now, so you will finally address it.

“goodnight, my lord,” you say, slowly closing the door. “rest now, for the ceremony is tomorrow.”

there is a soft clicking sound the echoes quietly in the dark corridor as soon as the door closes.

there is a statue outside of the temple, one that the head of the village had commissioned to get done when you were a kid, of the god of tides. you kneel in front of it, eyes closed and your hands clasped tightly. you are tense and rigid, arabelle’s words repeating in your head like a broken record.

the sea god and his devout follower have gone to the surface.

you want to let out a bitter scoff, you want to roll your eyes to the back of your skull at his sheer audacity to do such a thing on this important day.

but you don’t.

you instead pray, but you don’t pray to the god of tides. no, you pray to the deep sea. you pray that today be blessed, that the ceremony would go smoothly.

there is a shift in the currents, the singing of the fishes of his arrival flows into your ears.

“the ceremony will begin now,” you mumble, eyes still closed. “go tell them. i will continue to pray.”

there is a shuffle next to you followed by running footsteps that soon fades away.

you sigh, shoulder slumping. let the ceremony go smoothly, you pray, give him the strength to do what must be done. you pray to the deep sea because you aren’t sure if he will do what has to be done.

a sudden chill falls on you like a blanket, making your eyes snap open. whalefall city is plunged in darkness, and the sea is silent until your ears pick up the panicked shouts of the lemurians. you rush into the city, finding everyone gathered at the bottom of the road that leads up to the temple.

“divine priestess! has the ceremony gone wrong?”

“what are we to do?”

“divine priestess, what is going on?”

“are we doomed?”

“my brethren,” you say softly, holding out an open hand. bright, blue swirls appear, rendering everyone silent. “you must stay calm. the ceremony is still ongoing. we—”

everyone screams and yells as the ground suddenly shakes, the sea growing violent as it sends currents everywhere.

“stay close to me!” you yell.

you’re about to fall onto the ground after another violent shake from the seafloor, yet the water holds you above the ground. the deep sea, despite its anger, is still looking after you.

but the same cannot be said for the rest.

much less for him.

because everyone gasps, their attention drawn to the crumbling sight of their beloved temple. your eyes are wide with shock.

the ceremony has—

the shaking stops and the sea is calm.

“miss priestess,” arabelle walks up to you, a slight tremble in her hands as she places it on your arm. “has the ceremony gone wrong?”

you don’t know what to say. “arabelle—”

“look!”

the sea god emerges from the rubble, holding onto a tiny flame that flickers dangerously so… the devout follower is nowhere in sight.

“the ceremony is a success!” someone shouts.

cheers erupt amongst the lemurians.

“the sea god is among us now!”

no, you think. he is not the sea god.

the ceremony was a failure, and he has doomed you all. it is just as the deep sea had told you: disaster.

the sea god disappeared, leaving whalefall city alone with the divine priestess of the deep sea. he has not appeared in many years, not even as the city plunges to the depths of the sea. he does not show his face when you help everyone evacuate the city, though you don’t go with them.

“must you stay here alone, miss priestess?”

arabelle now reaches your shoulders, having grown quite the bit over the years. you smile and ruffle her hair, “i must stay here and pray for everyone’s safety.”

“i can do that in your place!”

“you cannot,” you answer firmly. “as the divine priestess, i must stay here to pray in order to ensure everyone’s safety.” you sigh and grab arabelle’s shoulder, squeezing them softly. “arabelle, i chose you for a reason. you must lead them, help them build anew.”

the girl slowly nods. “i will do as you say, miss priestess.”

you smile wider, pushing her slightly towards the lemurians that wait for her. “go now.”

“miss priestess, will i… will i see you again?"

all you can do is continue to smile, “goodbye arabelle. may the deep sea protect you on this journey.”

you watch the lemurians leave their home until your eyes no longer can. that’s when you head to the ruins of the temple and watch with disdain at the crumbling statue of the person you used to love. you will the anger to go away, not wanting your last moments to be of hatred. no, you want your last moments to be filled with hope that the lemurians of whalefall city may build their new lives easily without trouble.

your eyes close when you start feel your tail grow lighter and how it travels up your body slowly. you mournfully sing goodbye to your people and to the sea you love so much, stopping to utter a final prayer to the deep sea.

“do not let me meet him again, oh deep sea,” you mumble. “i wish to not see him again.”

and then you’re gone, reduced to foam.

you’re gone and he heard you whisper your final words in the form of a prayer to the deep sea and not to him, making his chest feel like it is about to cave in.

you’re gone and he watched as you turned into sea foam, the color so alike to your hair that it makes him sick.

rafayel closes his eyes from where he is, letting out his final breath. what was the color of your hair before it had turned into the color sea-foam? he cannot remember.

previous | masterlist | next

taglist (open). @bakutual @nadinefromwhere @justmystical @holywaterbucketchallenge @megufushi @bellslovemachine @roobiedoobiedoo @reiofsuns2001

OCEAN MEMORIES, yuansie 2025

[atreyucannamos]

IV: The Gunslinger and the Knight, Part 3

5003u / 7576 SR THIRTEEN YEARS AGO CANNAMOS FAMILY ESTATE, CANNAMOS PRADESH, KHAYRADIN

Soundtrack: Trevor Morris - Viking Comforts

Another silence fell through the forest, deeper even than any that followed before, as if the trees themselves were holding their breath.

When he finally spoke, it was not loud, but neither was it quiet. His voice was not just deep, it was beyond deep; Atreyu had not really had the vocabulary to describe it until his geography tutor had taught him the word abyssal.

"Who is responsible for this travesty?"

Immediately, Praya and Atreyu shot to their feet and bowed as low as they could manage, speaking over one another.

"Lord Uncle, it was me, I got caught up in a game and Praya-"

"Honoured Father, I take full responsibility-"

"Quiet." A single barked word silenced them both. As if they were not even there, he turned away, towards one of the Dusk Wings. All of them had retracted their helmets and dropped to both knees in deference. "Akshey. I have entrusted unto you the safety of two children I hold dearer to my heart even than my own life, yet here I find them. Frightened. Injured. Their lives nearly ended by a... beast. Abandoned by the very kuirassers who had sworn their very lives to protect them."

There was a thump as the pilot prostrated himself, the chest of his mech flush with the forest floor. "Worshipful Stonelord, a thousand apologies could not be enough. I take full responsibility. I beg you, apportion no blame to my subordinates, allow me to take upon my should-"

Hyderad closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a breath though his nose that seemed to last for a thousand years. "I clearly cannot trust you to take upon your shoulders the safety of my own blood, Akshey. Why would I trust you with the burden of responsibility for anything else?"

Praya held up a hand. "Honoured Father, please, we snuck away from-"

"Silence," Hyderad hissed. "Do not think to excuse their failure. I expect your bodyguards to possess enough wherewithal that they are not routinely outwitted by a twelve-year-old." He turned his attention back to the kowtowing pilot. "Or is that an unreasonable demand? May a Stonelord not furnish himself with guardians of such a caliber? Do I aspire above my station, perhaps?"

He motioned around the clearing, raising his voice only the slightest degree. "Well? Answer me. How did my daughter and her cousin slip your leash? How did it take so long for anyone to notice they were gone? Why did the alarm not raise the second nobody had them in sight? After they triggered their distress beacons, why did it take almost five minutes for any of you to reach them?"

In the wake of his words, nothing disturbed the quiet. Nobody dared answer. Hyderad knelt to look upon the corpse of the rock tiger.

"This thing wasn't killed by veil rifles. If I had to venture a guess," he said, reaching down and plucking the utility knife from its chin, "it was killed either by incisive trauma to the brainstem, or intracranial haemorrhage from repeated blows to the head. Which means - unless you have taken to killing in the least efficient manner your kuirass allows - that it died before any of you even arrived. It means that my daughter and her cousin did a better job of protecting their own lives than the men I pay to do the job."

A servant, previously unseen, rushed forward to take the knife, and then another with a cloth to wipe the blood from the Stonelord's hand.

"We are truly blessed by the Builder and the Titan," Hyderad declared, "that it was a tiger, something with the wit and will of a beast, and not an Ungrateful. Had it been so, I have no doubt in my mind that my heir would be dead, or a hostage in the hands of our enemies. And you, Akshey - you and your entire squad - would be solely responsible. In every way that you could fail, you have failed. Even their safety does not absolve you in the slightest, because in no way were you able to facilitate it. Everything that befell them, they saved themselves from. Had they not, you would've arrived to the corpses of my heir and my beloved nephew being devoured."

Even through the armour of their Dusk Wing, it was clear that the pilot was trembling.

"There is no place for you or your underlings in the Khayradin Elites, Akshey." Hyderad's eyes narrowed until it was barely possible to see them at all. "For this failure, I should kill you where you stand."

The pilot cried out. "Please, Stonelord, I beg of you-"

Hyderad stamped his foot irritably. "But... my relief over seeing my daughter and nephew alive far outweighs my wrath. And it would trouble them, I am sure, to carry your deaths upon their conscience, deserved as they would be."

The man's relief was almost palpable. "Oh, thank you, merciful Stonelord, I-"

"Instead," Hyderad continued, stamping his foot again, "when I and my entourage have departed, you will doff your armor. Then, your hardsuits. I will leave a detachment here to ensure that it is done. You will leave my estate on foot, in your smallclothes, and make for the city. Should any you meet upon the way, from the lowest commoner to the highest noble, ask of your plight, you will explain to them your failure - briefly, so as not to waste the time of your betters. If they see fit they may spit, curse and strike you with my blessing. Praya, Atreyu, come." He turned on his heel.

Mechanically, the two children rose to their feet and trotted along in the wake of the Stonelord. They said not a word, and shared only a quietly terrified glance, leaving the weeping of the former bodyguards to slowly fade into the distance behind them. The only other sound was the mechanical footfalls of the Atlas suits flanking them.

"What was your mistake?" The question cut the musty forest air like a rapier.

Neither Atreyu nor Praya said anything, and so Hyderad slowed his stride turned his head the slightest amount towards them. "I've asked you a question. I expect an answer."

Praya spoke first. "We went beyond the bounds of-"

Her father waved a dismissive hand. "You are the daughter of the Stonelord and the Patriach of House Cannamos, standing on the ancestral estate that will one day be yours. Not an inch of soil here is forbidden to you. Try again. What was your mistake?"

Atreyu, trembling, made his own attempt. "We... I... shouldn't have gone off without seeking your permiss-"

Hyderad stopped suddenly and turned, causing both children to skid to a startled halt. "You would bother me every time you wish to run off and play? No, Atreyu. You are not my Graven Heir, and even she would not interrupt me for such trivialities. The instinct to seek permission is a sound one, but it was not your failing here." In a single, fluid motion, he swung back around and resumed walking. "So, I ask again - what was your mistake?"

There was another uncomfortable silence. Atreyu swallowed. "Trust?"

Again, Hyderad stopped, but this time, he seemed to genuinely regard the boy. "You begin to reach for the truth, Atreyu. But trust on its own is not a mistake. Do you see these eight men and women around you? Each of them in a kuirass, each of them wielding a sword with a blade as long as I am tall. Each of them alone could kill me - against eight, I would be as a horsefly against the mountain. But they do not. They will not. How do I know? I trust them. So, what was your mistake?"

Praya cupped her chin once more. "We didn't... see the Elites. We didn't see them. We just trusted that they were there. When they weren't."

Atreyu felt a spark of revelation. "We trusted blindly!"

Hyderad clapped his hands together, causing both children to yelp. "There you are, Atreyu! Good boy. You trusted blindly. You did not ensure for yourself that your trust was warranted. Praya, what should you have done?"

"We should've been... keeping tabs on our bodyguards," Praya replied, phrasing it half as a question. "Ensuring that they weren't too far from us to help, if we needed it?"

"I did not raise a complete fool for a daughter, clearly. In the short term, yes, these are good answers. You should have ensured that your bodyguards were present alongside you. But let us project ourselves forward, see into the yet-to-be. I see these eight men and women walking beside me; I have no need to question whether they will be with me in my time of need." He paused for effect. "But how can I trust that they will act as I require? Is that also not blind trust?"

Atreyu cautiously offered an answer. "You... have some way to ensure that they'll obey you."

For the first time since he arrived, Hyderad allowed himself the slightest of smiles. "Yes. And how do you think a Stonelord ensures such obedience? Praya, you will be Stonelord. This question is yours to answer."

Praya spoke without hesitation. "What you did back there. You showed them what happens if they fail."

The smile on Hyderad's lips widened, showing just a hint of teeth. Atreyu somehow felt like he was staring down the rock tiger again. "Yes. It's why I didn't accept your misguided attempt - noble as it was - to take responsibility for their failings. If I allowed such egregious incompetence to go unpunished, how could I trust that it would not be repeated? Mercy is a weapon in the Stonelord's arsenal, and if you use any weapon too often, it blunts."

He span on his heel once more, and again they walked in silence for a while, broken only by Hyderad's seemingly unrelated commentary on various sights they saw as they returned to the aerotrans - taking a route, Atreyu noticed, that seemed rather circuitous.

Then, without warning, Hyderad dropped another question. "Tell me, which of you proposed to sacrifice your life for the other?"

Atreyu sputtered. How could he possibly know that?!

"Atreyu did," Praya answered immediately, her face pale. "He told me to run. Said I had to live, because I was the Graven Heir. Tried to face the damn rock tiger with that little utility knife. He didn't even hesitate."

Atreyu felt his face burning with embarrassment as Hyderad fixed him with a stare.

"A demonstration of true loyalty there," the Stonelord replied, chuckling. "Stupid. Suicidal. Foolish. But very brave. You, Elites. You could learn a thing or two from this boy, and he, I think, from you. Kneel to him."

Without the slightest hesitation, there was a clatter as all eight of the kavaliers faced Atreyu and fell to one knee, their shining blades planted half a meter into the soil in front of them.

Hyderad placed a hand on child's shoulder. "Tell me, boy, and tell them. What did you feel in that moment? When death raced towards you? When you made ready to lay down your life in service to another?"

Atreyu wanted to tell the truth - that in the final moment, he flinched. That he'd wanted to scream "I don't want to die" and run for his life. That if it had been an Ungrateful, he would've begged. That he'd always played at being brave, but in the moment it had actually mattered, he'd been a coward.

Hyderad would never respect him if he admitted to it. Praya would never respect him if he admitted to it. These kavaliers would never respect him if he admitted to it. And so Atreyu told the lie that would, ultimately, define his entire life.

Soundtrack: Andrew Prahlow - The River

"I thought of the Titan, and how he's brave and bold, and faces his fate without fear."

[jollyhunter]

Girl, let me tell you I was also giggling the entire time I wrote this. This fic was so self indulgent because the reader IS me, one billion percent, the awkward anxious person who has no idea how to catch someone's attention 😆 But I love it resonated with you too (but I'm also sorry it took you back to your past trauma lol 😂)

Nahh, don't feel sorry, it led to some hilarious 'sharing awkward moments' of old times with my bf 😂

if you haven't read As Tradition Dictates, you need to because it's so good and it's been living rent free in my head since I read it.

I don't know it but I'll defnitely need to give it a read now, thanks!

I can see Butcher firing off like two shots into the swarm, while Ben kinda holds up his shield half-heartedly debating if it's worth it (it's not), and the reader and Hughie are already in the car with all the windows rolled up just watching it unfold. Even funnier would be her not letting Butcher or Ben into the car because she doesn't want any of the locusts to get in and she's shooing the two of them away. 😂

OH MY GOODNESS YESSSS EXACTYL!! I CANNOT UN-PICTURE THAT NOW 🤣

// And Butcher would probably yell something like "Listen poppet, if you don't open the fuckin' car right now -" Ben steps in, pushes Billy aside and just wrenches the damn car door open. Butcher rolls his eyes and throws his hands in the air, "Well that's just brilliant now, innit? You daft cunt, you just blasted our only safe spot!" gesturing to the black vortex of locusts now forming inside the car and her and Hughie scramble out of it in a high pitched screaming panic. And that sneaky bastard Ben would just laugh and then wink at her, "Hey, I just wanted the two princesses to join the fun." //

PLEASE. CAN WE HAVE A FLASHBACK SCENE. I'LL BRIBE YOU WITH POTATOES 🥔

And don't worry hun, take your time! Whenever you'll continue this as a series, I can't wait to read the next chapter 🥰

Promise Not To Fall In Love With Me

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader and a little bit of Billy Butcher x f!reader

Prompt: "I find him very attractive." /"I'm standing right here"/ "I know."

Requested by: @angrydragon90

Tropes: Fake Dating, Pining.

Summary:  When you first joined Butcher's team the last thing you expected was to develop a crush on him, but after two years of pining, you get a proposition from the last person you'd expect to care.

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just in case (I don't really think it is). Some cursing, Sexual innuendo, References to sex, Over glorification of a man's shirtless body (I'm not complaining) Reader is a little anxious/anxiety/socially awkward? Drug use/Drinking (Soldier Boy), Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy (He's a warning, we all know it and somehow still love him for it).

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Prompt Celebration Masterlist

A/N: This is the third fic for my prompt celebration! This one was requested the incredible @angrydragon90 💗 Had to do something with a little bit of Valentine's Day spirit, but I'm going to be honest, this one turned into something that I didn't expect... let me know what y'all think. I also was thinking about @zepskies fic As Tradition Dictates for the more *ahem* gratuitous descriptions of Butcher 😉

Butcher’s muscles rippled over his bare chest and broad shoulders with every swing of the mighty axe down to the earth. Each strike of the axe against wood sent chips of bark flickering in the air around him like sparks. Sweat rolled down his sun kissed skin curving in the dips of his muscular torso, along the tensing muscles of his back, and through the dusting of hair on his torso, before disappearing into the waistband of the dark jeans hung low on his hips. 

Heat kisses your cheeks and darkens the skin the longer you watch him and you bite your lip hard to keep the appreciative sigh of the scene in front of you at bay. But it does little to stop your eyes which rove over the rugged man chopping wood. 

No man his age should look that good. 

Butcher props one of his feet up on the tree stump he’s been using as a table oblivious to your attention, shouldering the axe for a moment to glance at the stack of firewood he’d chopped, looking like a mighty warrior surveying his lands. 

Your mind starts to slip into a fantasy of a shirtless Butcher riding horseback across a desolate plain, his dark hair long, and a sword strapped to his saddle commanding a group of riders behind him to his every whim. Before scooping you up onto his saddle to ride with him, his strong arm wrapped around your waist, and his face buried in the soft skin of your neck, his rough whisper in your ear a grating caress as he-

You clear your throat, cheeks darkening crimson, and take in a shaky breath to dissipate the daydream that usually starred in several of your fantasies. The same ones that probably came from the romantasy book that you’d brought along on this trip and were too embarrassed to read when anyone else was awake.

He raises a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, shuffling it back through his hair that turns a chestnut brown in the light of the setting sun that flickered through the thick forest surrounding the small cabin you were all staying in.

Oh to be a drop of sweat.

You think mournfully, taking a long sip of your lemonade out of a brightly colored bendy straw, the same lemonade that you’d made in hopes of enticing Butcher over for a break.

It had worked, but only for twenty seconds.

Twenty glorious seconds that you got to bask in Butcher’s presence so close that you could smell the familiar cologne and the scent of sweat clinging to his skin while he drank the lemonade and you tried not to stare at his bare chest for too long. You hoped that Butcher thought the flush on your cheeks had everything to do with the heat and nothing to do with all the things you were imagining him doing to you. 

And then there had been an additional two seconds when Butcher smiled at you and said “Thanks poppet” in the swoon worthy accent of his that made your knees weak before he sauntered back over to the woodpile and you watched him go shamelessly. 

Hughie says something to Butcher you can’t hear, but it makes Butcher laugh. He throws his head back with a wide grin that makes you sigh to yourself again, hands tensing where they sit poised over the tangle of wires in your lap. 

You were supposed to be working on a new gadget to help grapple up buildings, one that you and Frenchie had designed together, but you were distracted by Butcher. 

You were always distracted by him. 

It had been three days since Butcher, Soldier Boy, Hughie, and you arrived at the cabin in the middle of nowhere after a mission went wrong. The specifics weren’t important, let’s just say that there was a miscommunication and what the four of you thought was a supe who could turn into a single locust, was actually able to turn into a swarm of locust so thick you couldn’t see an inch in front of your face. 

You had a sneaking suspicion that MM and Frenchie had something to do with the miscommunication, given how eager they had been to stay behind at headquarters and do paperwork, and the secretive smiles they had shared at the briefing before your team left.

But needless to say, none of you had been eager to live through a reenactment of the eighth plague and all decided to lay low to consider your options, while hoping the locust supe didn’t decimate all of the corn in the midwest.

You shudder remembering the crawl of the scratchy legs along your skin, the flapping of millions of wings like the beat of a drum, the crunch of locusts underfoot, and the low pitched hum of the swarm that vibrated so loud it made you feel your body shaking from the inside out. 

At this point I would have taken a swarm of guinea pigs.

The cabin wasn’t the worst place you’d stayed at in all the time you’d worked with Butcher. There was running water and several rooms inside including two bedrooms with lumpy pillows and mattresses with creaking springs, a living room with a sagging floral couch, and a threadbare kitchen with dusty cabinets and doors that fell off whenever someone tried to open one. 

Outside the cabin there was a small patch of wildflowers that fluttered in the strong wind that blew from the East, an overgrown garden where tomato plants, potatoes, and herbs grew without care, and a small front yard that was more of a grassy clearing. 

Sure the cabin had it’s quirks, but the real problem was that the four of you were trapped here in the middle of summer with a generator that only did so much for electricity, but had no air conditioning whatsoever, which meant it was cooler to sit outside on the porch than inside the sweltering cabin. 

Overall, it had been three days of nothing, but listening to Soldier Boy bitch about the lack of extracurricular activities, three days of nothing but hearing the soft chuckle under Hughie’s breath when he texted Annie, and three days of nothing but you lusting after a man who was twice your age chopping wood.

Why was he chopping wood when it was so hot and none of you needed it… You had no idea, but you figured that the universe was finally throwing you a bone because you got to watch him do it.

The porch was cooler than sitting inside. There were two creaky rocking chairs that faced the overgrown “front yard” that was more of a clearing and the breeze did weave under the overhang of the roof to wick the sweat that gathered at the back of your neck, but the problem was, it was impossible for you to feel anything but warm, especially with what was unfolding in front of you. 

The weather isn’t the only thing heating up.

You think to yourself watching Butcher lean down to pick up another piece of wood, admiring the way his worn dark jeans cup his muscular ass.

Fuck, I’m just as bad as Soldier Boy. 

The truth was, you’d been crushing on Butcher for the better part of two years since the moment the two of you met on your first day when you’d tripped and dropped the giant pile of blueprints you were carrying to your desk and he was the only one who stopped to help you pick them up. 

After Homelander had been stripped of his powers and exposed for the narcissistic psychotic freak he was, you’d started working at Supe Affairs, thinking that it was the perfect way for you to make a difference in a world reeling from the revelation. It had shaken quite a few people to know that the so-called heroes they looked up to were in fact just as crooked as a line drawn by an elephant on a tricycle. 

But you liked your job… sometimes. 

Sure, the pay sucked, the benefits were dismal and the hours were long, but you didn’t care about any of that. You felt like you were making a difference, using the engineering degree that your dad had insisted on for something other than trying to figure out how to build a bridge that withstood the force of a punch from someone as strong as Homelander. 

And you hadn’t meant to develop a crush on William Butcher of all people, you swore that each day to yourself, but it happened without warning. He was nice to you, he always had your back on missions, and sometimes when you were working on something after hours on a mission- like the gadget in your lap- Butcher would sit with you while everyone else slept, nursing a glass of whatever it was he had, and he always made you feel like a valued member of the team.

Yes, he might be a little rough around the edges, but you liked that about him, that he didn’t pull punches, rather he told it like it was. It was refreshing in the world you lived in when everyone else was so afraid of offending someone that they just kept their mouths shut. 

But the problem was that you were younger than him and a little inexperienced. 

Well… a lot inexperienced. You’d never been in a relationship before, never really done anything before because there wasn’t time when you were in school getting your degree, not to mention you had spent the last two years imagining yourself in a relationship with a man who didn’t know you existed.

That might be a little harsh, he knew you existed, obviously, but rather he didn’t see you as anything more than a teammate or at least like a little sister. The nicknames that he called you were all some form of “kiddo” or “poppet.” Nothing like the things you’d read about men calling the women they loved in books or heard in movies. 

The most experience you had in the realm of love and relationships was binge watching Sex and The City (you could quote it by heart), flipping through Cosmopolitan Magazine and other articles about love on the internet like they were opioids, and reading through romance novels reverently as if they held the secrets of the universe. 

Not to mention the draft of the romance novel on your computer… but you’d go to the grave before anyone ever saw that, and if they did see it you’d take them with you. 

Reading about relationships was easier than having one, at least that was what you told yourself to feel better. It also didn’t help that you’d seen two out of three sisters married with kids, with the third one getting married in a few weeks and you without even a shadow of a date for the wedding.

That meant you would be stuck at the awkward reject table again with your weird fourth cousin who always came on to you and tried to show you the rooster tattoo he had on his hip bone, your dad’s brother who cleaned his dentures in public after he ate and his wife who always asked you what you were “doing” with your life and curled her lip up in distaste no matter what you said, and the gaggle of their ungrateful children who were always sticky for some reason and chewed with their mouths open while spilling food all over the table like cavemen.

Sitting there with them made facing the locust supe more appealing.

But even with the pressure of trying to find someone, anyone to take, you couldn’t muster up the courage to tell Butcher how you felt about him. 

Butcher glances over as if he can sense you and you immediately drop your eyes to the bundle of gears and wires in your lap pretending to fiddle with something that doesn’t need to be fixed.

Yes, because that’s the way I’m going to win him over, by making absolutely no eye contact. Perfect, masterful. What can go wrong?

What the books, magazines, tv shows, and movies didn’t prepare you for was how to find the courage to talk to someone of the opposite sex without feeling like your tongue was going to drop out of your mouth or like you were going to throw up. 

You wait a few beats until you’re sure that he’s no longer looking at you before you raise your head to watch Butcher again. 

Ben chuckles under his breath where he sits beside you in the other rocking chair, leaning back with one of his hands behind his head. His muscles tense in the black t-shirt as he adjusts his arm. 

“What?” You ask him. 

He exhales a long and obnoxious cloud of foul smelling smoke from the joint he has in his hand. “I think you’re a hypocrite.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re out here eye-fucking that asshole and you yell at me for staring at you.” He chuckles with a wide smirk as he takes another hit from the blunt.

How can he smoke that? It’s like 100 degrees out here!

“I am not!” You reply as loudly as you dare, glancing over to Butcher to make sure that he didn’t hear Ben’s comment, anxiety prickling along the back of your neck, but he’s still talking to Hughie about something. “And you don’t just stare at me! You come up behind me like some gremlin out of hell, with your big hands and-”

“We both know how much you like the attention doll.”

“I do not!” Your cheeks flare bright red. 

The only downside to working on Butcher’s team was sitting directly next to you. When you found out that you’d be working with Soldier Boy, one of your dad’s favorite heroes, you were excited to meet him, and then you had and he turned into another giant disappointment. He was loud, brash, short-tempered, rude, and was always either ogling you, coming on to you, smoking something, or drinking. 

You supposed it could be worse. You didn’t hate him, and you got along with him, but he was always around. The plus side was that Ben was the one of the only people you didn’t have a hard time talking to.

Yes, he was attractive, but his particular lifestyle didn’t appeal to you and for that reason whatever nerves you had about talking to attractive men of the opposite sex evaporated when it came to Ben. 

It was unfortunate that such a skill was wasted on him of all people.

“I just-” You hesitate, eyes dropping back down to the grappling device in your lap, not sure why you’re about to admit this to Soldier Boy when you haven’t been able to admit it to anyone else. 

Probably because I’m sick of singing the line from Frozen “conceal don’t feel” over and over in my head.

“I find him extremely attractive.” You mumble on a shaky breath. 

“I’m sitting right here.” The frown in Ben’s voice is prominent, but it only makes you roll your eyes at him. 

“I know.” Your eyebrows furrow together. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Why are you looking at him when you could have my full attention.” He leans forward, dark hair falling forward into his eyes, mouth pulling up in a confident smirk. "I mean there's nothing else to fucking do, might as well do me."

Your cheeks flush with his words, but you tilt your head to the side to study him, eyes slipping over his rugged features. Tracing over the neatly trimmed beard on his cheeks, the brilliant green eyes that seemed to glow, the way his muscular body filled out his black t-shirt and blue jeans, the soft dusting of freckles that contrasted the hardness of the man he was flecked over his skin, and his full lips that are curved up in a sinful smirk that would make even the strongest woman crumble. 

But not you. Ben was… Ben. He was brash, obnoxious, handsy, impatient, and disrespectful. 

At least, that’s what you thought.

Sure you didn’t work with him often, but you believed you had a pretty good grasp on the kind of person he was. You did, right?

“You’re not my type Benny.” Your eyes flick back to the project in your lap, moving your fingers deftly through the wires of the internal mechanism.

Ben recoils at the use of his nickname, but he recovers with a low chuckle. “Don’t call me that and I’m everybody's type.”

“Not mine. I don’t like supes.”

You weren’t sure if that was 100% true. You liked Kimiko. What you meant to say was that you didn’t like supes like him. Supes that used his powers without care for the consequences, Supes like Homelander who didn’t give a shit who got hurt as long as the job was done. 

And you weren’t a supe, which meant that if you were with a supe there was always the possibility of you dying during sex or dying before you had sex in the first place. Your job also presented the possibility of you dying before you’d had sex, but you weren’t going to let that hold you back.

“But Butcher has-” Ben begins to say.

“Temporary powers. Not all the time.” You correct, unable to stop your eyes from drifting back over to where Butcher has begun to start swinging the axe again. “And look at him. Fuck, he’s over there like Paul Bunyan, rugged, chopping wood-” You sigh continuing to watch the man who probably has no idea you exist.

Ben rolls his eyes. “I could do that.”

You don’t pay Ben any attention, because Butcher is bending over again and you bite the inside of your cheek hard. 

Ben sits there for another few beats watching you watch Butcher. The wind chimes that hang above your heads jingle merrily as the breeze picks up once more bringing the smell of the wild flowers and wet earth from the forest surrounding the cabin. 

“You know I could help you.” Ben says slowly.

Your eyes flick back to Ben from Butcher in confusion. “Help me?”

What is he talking about? Does he think he can figure out how to fix the grapple gun? The other day he couldn’t figure out how to open the automatic trunk of a car and he just ripped the trunk door right off.

“Get him.” Ben nods his head in Butcher’s direction, but you’re still confused.

“How?”

And why? Why does Soldier Boy want to help me of all people?

“Well, I could help you make him jealous.” Ben leans towards you, his eyes sweeping once over you as he does, lingering too long on your chest and the edge of the jean shorts you were wearing.

“And how would you do that?”

“Well for starters you could come sit on my lap baby, see how you like it.” Ben winks. “Take me for a little ride.”

“Pass.” You roll your eyes. 

“Oh I see you want to have a more advanced lesson.” He smiles, scooting his chair towards yours, a dull scrape of wood on wood, so now his knee is touching yours. “He could catch an earful of us tonight. I’d be happy to fuck you. It’d give me something to do.” Ben takes another hit of his joint, the smoke making you scrunch your nose in distaste, while he gives you an appreciative once over. “Fuck knows the only entertainment I’ve had for three fucking days is my hand and it would be good to have a nice tight-“

“No thanks.” You interrupt, face flushing when you imagine what he was about to say.

Ben stiffens in surprise. “What?”

“I’m good.” You shrug. “I’m gonna get him the old fashioned way.”

The same old fashioned way that I’ve been using for the past two years and had absolutely no results.

“And what way is that? Pining after him and hoping that one day he’ll finally notice you?” Ben scoffs. “I can see how well that’s working for you doll-face. How long have you been working with him?”

“Two years-”

“Fuck, two years?” Ben sputters. “You should just tell him that you want him to fuck you.” 

“That won’t work.”

Ben’s face scrunches in confusion, the joint clasped in between his thumb and forefinger forgotten. “Why the hell not?”

“Because-” You glance down at your hands, thumb running along the jagged edge of the grappling hook slightly embarrassed. The last thing you wanted to tell Soldier Boy was that you were a virgin. The guy would mock you endlessly. “Because I’m younger than him and he’s-”

He’s experienced. 

“So? You think that he hasn’t thought about fucking you?” Ben takes a long sip from the whiskey sitting beside his chair. “He’d be lucky to have a little piece like you.”

You blink in surprise. It was the closest to a compliment that Ben had ever given you. He did tend to compliment your figure whenever you were around, but you usually ignored that because he did that to everyone. 

Truthfully, the thought of dating Ben didn’t appeal to you at all, but the thought of using him to make Butcher jealous was not a terrible one. And at this point, you didn’t have anything to lose. 

Well… except THAT, but you wanted it to be special, at least that’s what you’d always told yourself.

You sigh, a little frustrated, watching Butcher out of the corner of your eye swing the axe in a glorious arch to the earth. You weren’t sure how to get Butcher’s attention. You’d tried the usual things…

Leaving the room as soon as he walked in to avoid a conversation.

Gone completely mute when he asked you a question.

Pretended you didn’t see him whenever he walked into a room.

Tried to bring him coffee, but then chickened out and drank his and yours and then immediately had to go to the bathroom to avoid shitting your pants while having heart palpitations.

Basically the social anxiety was working wonders on the office romance you wanted so badly. 

“Ben?” You say tentatively, hands tightening on the contraption in your lap. At this rate you were never going to fix it and Butcher was going to have to figure out how to fly. 

“Yes, gorgeous?” Ben raises an eyebrow. The blunt is between his lips now and he’s looking at you curiously.

“If we did pretend to be…” You swallow nervously. 

“Fucking?” He leans forward eagerly, eyes twinkling with interest.

Well… I’ve never understood what it meant when someone wrote “his eyes darkened” until this very moment. 

“Dating” You correct holding up a finger.

Does his mind always go to the gutter?

You remember everything you think you know about Ben.

Yes. Yes it does.

Ben leans back with a frown. “I don’t date.”

“Well it wouldn’t be real! You’d just be helping me make him jealous and it would be nice to have a little practice maybe…”

“Practice?” He looks confused. It wasn’t the first time he had in this conversation or within the last five minutes, but like hell you were about to admit without at least one drink to Soldier Boy the extent of your dating life.

“Yeah. I’m not the best at talking to people or-”

“You’re talking just fine right now.”

“You’re different.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you annoy me and I don’t know you’re easier to talk to for some reason!” 

“Thanks.” Ben says dryly. 

By now all the anxious energy has begun to pop and crackle against your skin at the thought of what the two of you could be doing and at the thought of you two actually pulling this off and you having a shot with Butcher. Not just a shot in hell, a real shot.

“But if you’re serious about helping me get him-“ You continue.

“I was.”

It was odd that he was the one who had suggested this in the first place, and even weirder that he didn’t seem hesitant at all to be doing this. 

Maybe he thinks that we’re going to have sex. Your throat tightened at the thought, eyes widening, your nerve endings electrifying with anxiety. Oh holy fuck what if he thinks that if we do this he’ll get to do whatever he wants to me?

You clear your throat, heart beating just a little bit harder in your chest. The entire situation was making you regret the extra cup of coffee you had this morning. “What exactly would I have to do?” You don’t recognize your voice. It comes out a little more wobbly and just a little more tentative than it was. 

You didn’t know what Ben was expecting you to do and you didn’t want to say yes, only for him to force you into sleeping with him like he’d suggested earlier, the most you'd thought the two of you would do is just make out a little-

Oh holy fuck then we’d have to kiss and I don’t know if I’m a good kisser and he’s definitely kissed more than one person not to mention he’s-

The thought made you flush to the roots of your hair. 

Ben hesitates, eyeing you and you wonder if he can hear the deranged monologue inside your head or if he can hear just how hard your heart was beating. You hoped not. 

“You wouldn’t have to do anything, doll. I’m not going to force you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” There’s something genuine in his eyes when he answers your question, something that you’d never noticed before. 

Your mouth drops open in surprise. 

It wasn’t that you believed that Ben was that kind of man, but rather that what he just said to you might have been the most caring thing that he’d ever uttered in front of you. He was the last person that you’d expect to care about someone being uncomfortable or care if someone else was okay with everything that was happening in the bedroom.

Maybe I don’t know him as well as I think I do.

In all honesty you only knew the way Ben acted, you didn’t know anything about his life. The man kept his cards closer to his chest than a well-seasoned card player and his poker face, forget it. You couldn’t crack that combination even if you wanted to. 

Everything else you'd heard about him was through the grapevine of gossip at work. None of it was first hand.

Ben sighs and shakes his head at you as if he’s a little annoyed with himself for saying that out loud. “But I still think it would be easier if you just told him that you wanted him to fuck you. Would’ve worked on me.”

“I’m not good at that sort of thing.”

And it was true. You could take down a target, diffuse a bomb in less than ten seconds with a thin mint and a bobby pin, but saying something out loud like that to something else made you feel nauseous.

Ben hesitates again and in his hesitation the anxiety and embarrassment starts to come soaring back into your chest.

You were asking Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy, to pretend to date you so Billy Butcher would fall in love with you. 

Well kids, this must be what rock bottom feels like. I might as well just pray that the locusts come back to take me away. 

“Fine.” Ben states. 

“Really?” Your eyes widen.

He shrugs, but doesn’t answer.

“We’d have to have rules.” You blurt, and Ben makes a face.

“Rules? Never been too good with those, Sweetheart.”

“And I’d need you to promise that you wouldn’t-” 

You lose your train of thought in the wind chimes that rattle over your head and the sound of Butcher’s laugh.

“Wouldn’t?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Lose control.”

Honestly, sometimes you were a little afraid of Ben. You’d never say that out loud or admit it, but he was stronger than Homelander.

You knew Ben's reputation around the office- heard the hushed whispers of the women in the break room who said he was the best fuck of their lives, heard the horror stories of what he did to his old team, and had seen first hand what his temper was like. You also knew about his powers and worried that Ben might have a little bit of a control problem or at the very least anger management issues.

“I’m not going to fucking hurt you if that’s what you think.” Ben growls, his eyes narrowing at your insinuation. “I’m not some fucking monster, doll.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster Ben.” You sigh. “I just- I don’t have powers and you’re kinda strong and I-.” You take a deep breath to steady your voice. “I don’t think that you’d hurt me on purpose. But-”

Ben’s hand comes out to touch your chin, tilting your gaze up to him and stopping the bicycle of babbling you were about to ride around the block. Your eyes widen slightly with the contact, you weren’t used to people touching you, certainly not like this. 

Keep it together… 

“I wouldn’t hurt you by accident either.” Ben’s green eyes are focused on yours, and you can see just a sliver of emotion behind them that you can’t identify. “But if we’re going to do this you gotta promise me one thing.”

“What?” Your voice comes out like a squeak.

“You’ve got to promise not to fall in love with me.” He sends you a saucy wink that makes you want to punch the strongest man on earth, instead you settle for pushing him back from you.

But you’re not prepared for the wave of disappointment you feel when he lets go of your chin. 

“I’m not in any danger of that Benny. You’re not half as smooth as you think you are.” You start to lean back in your chair, but Ben reaches out to grab your wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle, the contact burning through your body, as he pulls you forward, so close you can smell his cologne. Somehow it's something that smells classic and modern at the same time, a hint of spice that tickles your nose and makes your throat tight. 

His voice lowers into a purr that vibrates through his chest, his next words expelled on a warm breath that weaves through the air between the two of you. 

“Sweetheart, you’re about to find out just how smooth I am.” 

What have I gotten myself into?

A/N: Again, not what I was expecting, but I really love this one y'all and I probably laughed way too hard at bits when I was writing it.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think! 😊 If you'd liked to be added to my taglist please let me know!

Taglist

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester @zepskies @waynes-multiverse

@jollyhunter

[neodymiumcuilz]

URGENT SITUATION - HELP A FAMILY IN GAZA.

Hello everyone, this is a campaign for @aydaabushanab, who has reached out to me asking for help. This is an urgent situation, so please listen.

"Please, every $1 makes a difference in our lives.Hello my friends, I am Aida from Gaza, a mother of two daughters. I gave birth to my daughter, Ghala, after 12 years of marriage. My child, Ghala, has ITP, which is a very serious disease. Her spleen was removed, but she did not survive the disease. She needs a blood cell transplant for her spinal cord, and she started vomiting blood. Please help us, even if just a little. Or publish, help me treat my child, please, pleasehttpsI will publish it on my channelsI will publish it on my channelsI will publish it on my channels"

If you have the means to donate I encourage you to please do so. The people of Gaza are human and deserve to survive, and be safe with access to health care and other basic things. Please, the lives of these children depend on generosity. Please have empathy, they are in harsh living conditions and struggle to pay for live saving treatment, which is hard to obtain in Gaza. Please, don't ignore this and do what you can. Let your humanity shine through, be a kind person and make a difference here;

If you cannot donate, please spread the word so this can reach donators. Please visit @aydaabushanab, share the posts, campaign and help get Aida's story heard. And save Ghala and Hala's lives. Any actions taken makes a difference. Thank you.

[filamentlights]

It's Okay to be Green

Clone x OC Week - Day 5, Future || Hound x OC

SUMMARY: Hound is pretty sure this woman claiming to be “from the future” is crazy, but hey, he’ll go along with her if it means scaring his Least Favorite Jedi.

Word count: 2.5k

Tags & warnings: cursing, crack, so much crack, truck-kun strikes again (!), modern girl in Star Wars, and I’m kinda shitting on Anakin here. Man, he cannot stop catching strays in my one shots

“No no no, please, you have to believe me!”

Now, Hound always considered himself something of a gentleman, so hearing the distinctive high cadence of a woman clearly in distress, his feet were already moving towards the sound without even thinking.

There stood a Mirialan woman with choppy brown hair. She was arguing with a police droid, grabbing its metal arms while it just kept repeating its standard, “your concerns have been forwarded to the supervisor. Any replies may take 6-8 business days, as we are currently experiencing an influx of concerned calls and work to answer each with dedication. Thank you for your patience.”

Hound scoffed, didn’t she know those droids were practically useless? They forwarded most of their calls to the Guard anyways.

“Need some help here, ma’am?”

She turned around.

Ooooohh boy.

Wide, teary eyes pinned Hound in his place, making him instinctively comb through his hair. As he passed a hand through his neck locks, he tried to discreetly check for any B.O. Sometimes, after hours training with the massiffs, you start to get a little y’know blind in the nose from all the strong smells. Luckily, the lady seemed too distraught to notice anything.

“Oh! A human,” she cried, launching herself at him and gripping his arms.

Okaaaay, that was a bit of an odd reaction, considering they were on Coruscant; melting pot of the galaxy’s most miserable—and varied—sentients. Oh yeah, and considering the fact that she herself was a Mirialan. Hound shouldn’t judge, she probably had something internal going on.

“I can’t believe this,” she rambled. “I can’t be here, I am definitely NOT here. I don’t belong here. I- I think I got hit by a truck, oh my god.”

“Uh huh,” he said haltingly. “Okay, uhm please calm-”

“I mean look at me,” the woman wailed, burying her face into her hands. “I’m green!”

“Ma’am, there is nothing wrong with being green,” Hound comforted, patting her back awkwardly. “Coruscanti laws dictate that all employers here must be equal opportunity, regardless of species or color. If you have been discriminated against or harass-” She pulled away, aghast.

“No! That’s not what I’m trying to say- I’m not trying to be- to be-”

“Speciesist?” He offered.

The woman burst into tears. Hound panicked.

“Oh karking porg testicles, please don’t cry.”

The woman sniffed. Hound had an inkling of hope, as she hiccuped a few times and closed her eyes to try and compose herself. One second. Two seconds. She opened her eyes, and the tear streams were quickly refilled. Kriff. He didn’t know what to do. “Please…don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it,” she snapped. Seeing him wilt, she slammed her face into her palms and let out an ear-piercing screech. Kark, the lungs on this woman; Hound was beginning to regret nosing into this. “This is all very overwhelming!”

“Sorry!”

“It’s fine,” she wailed, clearly getting more frustrated with herself. “It’s not your fault.”

“Are you-”

“It’s been a shit day because fucking Mark stole all the credit for MY,” she gestured angrily, waving her hands wildly, at herself. Hound noted she had impressive explosive power for someone so…small. “MY idea. I was the one who mentioned that we should put out short interviews with the influencer brand ambassadors on Instagram reels, but then HE goes and takes that straight to our team leader and steals all the credit like a FUCKING JACKASS. I told him IN. CONFIDENCE. And then he takes my idea and breaks up with me in front of the whole damn office, so now I have to live I have to live in SHAME.” She walked over to kick a piece of trash and scream at a wall. “AND NOW I’M HERE, HAVING TO DEAL WITH ROBOT BUREAUCRATIC INEFFICIENCIES. I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE HERE IS. AND I’M GREEN.”

She collapsed to a pitiful squat with an abrupt shriek.

“Shut yer trap, woman.” A voice from one of the apartments above yelled down. “Kriff, can’t even watch the holonet without some crazy bitch yapping these days.” Hound felt uncomfortably out of his depth, but went to comfort the woman when-

“Oh fuck you, you miserable asswipe,” she yelled back through tears. “Let a girl have a proper breakdown for Christ’s sake.” The man above made an offended noise.

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you!”

“Okay, that’s enough of that.” Hound quickly ushered the raging woman away. They were in the lower, seedier parts of Coruscant and he wasn’t eager to start any fights. Luckily the woman complied with only a half-hearted and tear-filled glare thrown his way. “Let’s go up, we can go to the Coruscant Guard HQ and maybe find you some help.” He coaxed her out of the dingy alleyway, eager to make her someone else’s problem. For all he thought himself as well-versed with nattie women, he could admit; this one had him beat.

“What’s that?” Her voice wavered as she wiped the snot from her face with her sleeve and let herself get tugged by the wrist.

“The headquarters of Coruscant’s domestic affairs clone force.” She goggled.

“You’re a clone?”

Hound pressed his lips together.

“It wasn’t obvious?” He looked down at his ARF trooper armor. She sniffled.

“I dunno, never seen one before.”

Huh. Now wasn’t that curious.

“Really? Where you from?” Hound probed, and he pushed her by the shoulders towards where they were going. Like all Mirialans, she was slight, her head barely reaching his chin. They got to the turbolift and piled inside. He watched her closely through the window’s reflection. She watched the neon levels of Coruscant zip by miserably, her eyes glued to the sight.

“Not here.”

Now, Hound was no detective or behavioral expert, spending more time among more four-legged and furrier companions, but he could tell she was lying. But given her earlier outbursts, he wasn’t keen on pressing her any further. It was in the interest of his own well-being after all, what with there only being limited room to escape from any violent mental breaks in the lift. Lucky for him though, she seemed to have a habit of muttering to herself. So, doing as any other normal being, he eavesdropped.

Hound watched her space out, watching them get higher and higher in Coruscant, and start to mumble angrily. Nonchalantly looking away, Hound strained his ears.

“Should’ve paid more attention to the movies. God, I think there were even comic books. Why didn’t I read the comic books!” She blinked, and muttered something about “everyone dying.” Huh, now Hound’s attention was fully lasered on the woman.

Abruptly, she turned to him. She took a breath, exhaled, and then looked him square in the eye.

“I’m from the future,” she burst out.

Well. Hound did not see that coming.

How did he get here. How did he get here. Hound was almost positive he’d hallucinated the past two hours, and the woman was just his sleep paralysis demon come to haunt him.

“Quickly, over here,” she hissed.

Oh, right. He was escorting around this psycho who claimed she was from the future and could tell how everyone was going to die, and that if she didn’t see Grandmaster Yoda instantly then bad things were gonna happen. It’ll be just like the simulations, they said. Don’t worry, you’ve been trained for every situation, they said.

Hound would like a refund on his existence.

The lady—Sita—had looked so distraught when she said this that he couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for her. He also recognized, that if he didn't go along, that her mental state might begin to teeter dangerously into an actual break down. And he was definitely not trained for that.

The plan was to go along with her delusions, and hopefully stop by HQ and ask if there were any missing persons reports filed for crazy green Mirialans.

But this…this was getting out of hand.

“Quickly,” she urged again, snapping her fingers in Hound’s face. “Hide, he’s coming this way.”

“Alright alright, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he muttered. Sita, who was frighteningly eagle eared as Hound was finding out, glared viciously.

“Don’t talk about my panties, jerk.”

“Kriff, don’t say it like that,” he groaned, trying to placate her, “it wasn’t like that.”

“Still, it’s rude!”

“Alright, sorry!”

“If you think you can just-”

Hound heard footsteps. Grabbing her, he shoved them into the alleyway.

“He’s here,” he hissed.

No, Hound had not taken Sita to see Grandmaster Yoda of the Jedi Order. Above his pay grade. But when he told her that, she’d threatened him with teary eyes under her comically large glasses. Hells, did Mirialans even need glasses? He thought they all had crazy good senses. Huh. Anyways, with the threat of water works, he offered her the next best option: Anakin Skywalker. Despite being technically younger than the Jedi, Hound was not fond of that whiny goatkriffer.

Tagger had said that Sourdough had heard from Camus who talked to Helix and said that Denal told him that the Jedi had a habit of throwing clones off high places, just to then right in time catch them with the Force. Which, not only was that a pretty shit thing to do, Hound had to hate him on principle of injustice. If Hound attempted something like that, he’d be fried fish chum at the bottom of the Kaminoan seas faster than Grizzer could go through a yak chew. It also didn’t help that one time, while out with his “secret” wife, the karkfaced Jedi had insulted Grizzer as part of some suave pickup line to get Senator Amidala up to her apartment so they could kriff! Senator Amidala could do much better, in his opinion.

But he was the only Jedi Hound knew where to find, so he’d have to do.

Surprisingly, she’d brightened up in a flash hearing the man’s name (could not relate).

“It’s perfect,” Sita whispered manically. She paced. “How can I- oh! Wait, no. I need to-”

A question was still bugging Hound.

“You know Skywalker?”

Sita turned to him, slowly. She had abnormally piercing eyes.

“He’s about to make a series of decisions that ends with twenty years of people dying to a tyrannical fascist government,” she said slowly, advancing towards Hound.

“Huh.” Hound blanched. Definitely above his pay grade. Sita grabbed his collar and yanked him down to her level.

“Obi-wan is my favorite character,” she said determinedly, perfectly enunciating every word. “He deserves to live happily until he’s ninety goddamn years old.”

“How happy can you be at ninety,” Hound wheezed. She pinched his lips shut, making him squawk.

“Obi-wan. Will. Live. Happy. And you’re gonna help me do that.”

“Aaaaand how do we do that?”

Her hands tightened around his collar. And not for the first time, he wondered how such a tiny woman could have so much strength in her.

“I’m gonna give him a niiiiiice little dose of existential dread.” She grinned wickedly.

“Hot damn, talk dirty to me baby, I’m so in,” Hound grinned wildly, making her flush.

And now they were here.

He handed her his helmet, which had speakers that could project the sound up to 120 decibels, which, if captured right in an enclosed space with solid surfaces for the sound to bounce off of, could be pretty damn loud. She slipped her pretty green head into his helmet, and actually looked pretty cute. His head was a bit larger than hers, so it wobbled like a bobblehead, which was surprisingly endearing. In a stupid way. Huh, maybe he had a thing for crazy ladies.

She jabbed an elbow at him and pointed. Ah, there in all his bastardly glory, Skywalker. Skulking down a tiny alley to then hop a bus to find his hot (out of his league) senator wife. They hid in a nook behind a dumpster, just out of sight of Skywalker.

Okay, game on. He signaled “go” for Sita. She nodded eagerly, almost making the helmet slip off before catching it, making him chuckle softly.

“ANAKIN SKYWALKER,” her voice boomed. Projected by the helmet’s speakers, it was kriffing loud. Add to the fact that the alleyway boxed in the sound waves, making it bounce and echo throughout, it was pretty damn scary. He almost felt bad when Skywalker jumped.

The Jedi looked around, on guard, with a hand on his lightsaber.

“Who’s there.”

“I AM THE GHOST,” she paused dramatically, “OF YOUR PAST.”

“Whoever you are, you better come out now.” Skywalker snarled, his hand poised on his lightsaber.

“NO.” She boomed. “I AM YOUR PAST, YOUR PRESENT, AND YOUR FUTURE. YOUR DREAMS-”

“How do you know I have dreams-”

“Bro everyone has dreams-” Sita cleared her throat. “I MEAN, I HAVE SEEN THEM. YOU DREAMT OF YOUR MOTHER.”

“How-how did you know?” Stars, was Skywalker’s voice trembling? Hold on, were those tears? Hound was glad he had the foresight to turn on his helmet’s HUD to record.

“No,” Skywalker whispered. “No you’re just bluffing.”

“I KNOW ALL. I SEE ALL. YOU DREAMT OF HER DYING AND ARRIVED TO WATCH HER PASS. IN THE TUSKEN’S HOMES WHERE SHE WAS TORTURED-”

“NO, stop-”

“SHE DIED IN YOUR ARMS. AND IN YOUR RAGE-”

“Stop-”

“YOU KILLED THEM. YOU KILLED THEM ALL. ALL THE MEN, THE WOMEN. AND EVEN,” Hound heard her snort softly under the helmet. He looked at her quizzically. “ALL THE CHILDREN TOO.”

“No. No, no I didn’t mean to. Stop, please-”

“YOU DREAM ABOUT YOUR WIFE, DON’T YOU?”

“Yes,” Skywalker fell to his knees, voice shaking desperately, “yes I do.”

“YOU DREAM ABOUT HER DYING.”

“Yes,” he gasped. “Great Force spirit, how do I stop this?”

She paused.

“MAN, I DON’T KNOW, GO TO SOME LIKE PRE-NATAL AND POST-NATAL CLASSES. ALL PREGNANCIES ARE TOUGH ON A WOMAN’S BODY AND MENTAL HEALTH FOR MONTHS BEFORE SHE EVEN GIVES BIRTH. HAVE YOU EVEN EDUCATED YOURSELF ON THIS YET?” Hound had to stifle a snort by pressing his hand to his mouth.

Skywalker wilted. Kriffing wilted like reprimanded cadet; this was the best day of Hound’s life. Sita just scrunched her face thoughtfully.

“DID YOU EVEN GET THE TALK? LIKE, BEFORE YA’LL DECIDED TO BUMP UGLIES?”

Skywalker scowled. “Of course I did! I know all about sex!”

“Right.” Hound couldn’t resist a sarcastic drawl.

“Who was that?” Skywalker looked around suspiciously.

Sita coughed loudly, voice booming. “AHEM, NOTHING. JUST A THING IN MY THROAT. ANYWAYS YES, PREGNANCY IS SCARY, BUT THERE IS NO REASON TO BELIEVE YOUR WIFE WILL DIE JUST BECAUSE YOU DREAM OF HER IN PAIN. BIRTH IS TOUGH, BUT MODERN MEDICINE HAS COME LONG WAYS. SO INSTEAD OF NEEDLESSLY CATASTROPHIZING, GO TAKE SOME CHILDBIRTH CLASSES FOR GOD’S SAKE. MEN!”

“Ok great Force spirit,” Skywalker said in a small voice.

“AND DON’T STRESS OUT YOUR TEACHER,” Sita scolded, making his hemet bob angrily on her head. “AND DON’T TRUST POLITICIANS. OKAY, GOODBYE!”

“Wait!” Skywalker called out, but Hound and Sita were already escaping through the maze of alleyways, giggling to each other all the while.

A/N: Headcanon that Anakin, as a child of Tatooine, probably grew up on folktales and old grannies warning him abt his future and is deeply superstitious. Also we need more Hound girlies (gender neutral) in this house and I volunteer as tribute. He is the ultimate Dog Dad and would have Scrumptious™ thighs from lifting Grizzer all the time. Thank you for coming to my ted talk.  Also this is inspired by that post abt Anakin just dreaming abt padme's birth and she wasnt dying, but birth is just intense so he assumed she was, but he gets advice from Master Mundi abt it. EDIT: this is the post

@orangez3st @clonexocweek

[manicpixiedreamedwins]

Alright Dead Boy Detectives Fandom:

Some of you need to pause here before you get back on AO3. Here's the thing: not everyone writes with your exact ghost head canons, or dialogue preferences, or characterizations 100% of the time. Hell, some people even bend or throw canon out the window to tell a good story. (I have been moved by stories like that in my lifetime).

That is not an excuse to write rude little tumblr posts and comments about what you didn't like. It's just not. This makes for a really, really caustic fandom environment over time. It does not encourage people to write more of what you want. It causes people to walk on eggshells, and write less in general, because they don't want to be on the receiving end of that wank. They're so afraid of doing something wrong that they don't do anything at all because it's just insurmountable- then, slowly, things die down. I have seen great fandoms die this way.

You, as the reader, need to take some ownership over what you're seeking out (and no, rec lists are not a "search", but they are nice). Reading tags on a fic should the bare minimum that you are doing before diving in. If you aren't doing that, then start there.

Here's what else will help you find what you want and avoid what you don't:

1. Use the "Sort and Filter" sidebar to the right of the main search.

I know you have all seen this panel. Many of you discuss sorting by kudos (which, in all fairness, means you're missing some beautiful, heartbreaking works). So go to the Sort and Filter panel. Scroll to "Exclude". That trope you've been complaining about for a solid month? Find it in the "Additional Tags", or type it in "Other tags to exclude". This will even work for ships you are tired of seeing, mostly. Some ship tags will slip through. You will have to type those into "Other tags to exclude" or...

2. Mute and Block (If Step 1 Fails)

So there's an author you keep complaining about through the confessions blog, or just... outright name dropping them. This is rude. Stop it. Do this instead. Go to their page on AO3:

Block or mute them. You will never see their work in the tag again. You will never be tempted to read it again (and really, why are you doing that in the first place? What is your malady?)

Be kind to each other. Art is a window into someone's soul, and I think a ton of us have forgotten that in this post consumerist hellscape. Y'all need to stop acting like transformative fiction is in the same class as mass produced trinkets you ordered with two day shipping.

[neodymiumcuilz]

" My name is Fatima, a teacher from Gaza. I used to work in a small school I loved dearly, planting hope in the hearts of children and teaching them that tomorrow could be better. But the war took everything away. My school was bombed, I lost my job, and our home was reduced to rubble. Yet, I refused to give up. I set up a small tent amid the destruction and continued teaching children, showing them that knowledge is a light that cannot be extinguished, even in the darkest times "

Please listen to the words of @fatoam232 who has reached out to me asking for help, help in building a better future for a family in need.

The people of Gaza are human, just like you and I, and human and deserving of life and dignity. However, they have been forced against horrible living conditions and terrible tragedy. And yet we mustn't give up. They rely on your donations for survival, they struggle with providing food, water, health care and shelter to their families.

Even with a small donation, you can help save lives, any amount can make a large difference and a step closer to a happy future. Any support genuinely means the world. Please give what you have the means to give. This situation is dire, don't let the down!! Choose kindness here;

If you cannot donate, please spread the word to help Fatima's voice be heard. Please visit @fatoam232 and share the account, posts, campaign and story so this can get to donors. Let's work together to achieve this goal. Thank you from the heart.

[bamsara]

I love Arson he's my favorite heater but I should really get a cheap laptop one day so I can leave the house to write because the Noise. Is . Too Much. I need to go write in the forest

[vaguely-concerned]

just had the thought 'in the end the most important thing varric taught rook was how to make a home for, with, and in other people' and then I had to go lie down on the floor and clutch at my head in unceasing agony for a few hours, as you may well imagine. hawke and the kirkwall crew........ in the end you kind of saved the world a bit in the most characteristically indirect and chaotic of ways. not by anything in particular that you did or achieved or accomplished (lmao imagine!), but just by -- having existed, and by the love that was always there, despite it all, in all its imperfections, even when no one was saved by it in the end. you're not here right now and you're not quite haunting the narrative but I hear your voices bickering and arguing and laughing from the other room. (and so, I think, does varric. all the time.)

'did you think you mattered, hawke? did you think anything you ever did mattered?' yeah actually, varric says with da2 and keeps saying through the series. you were here. and I loved you. and as it turns out that mattered more than almost anything in the world, no matter how long it lasted or how fucked up it was at the time or what else happens, because varric manages to pass that feeling, that intangible... home, that echo of you all as you were together, that love, hopefully the best parts of it, on to someone else for them to bring with them on their journey, with their family. and maybe the world will be kinder this time. you never know. merrill's line of 'Everything affects everything. We were born, a bunch of things happened, and now we're in a mess with our friends.' varric's greatest fear of becoming his parents. even through the wreck and the ruin of the world, ghosts upon ghosts upon ghosts of love -- malcolm hawke, who we never even see, but his life touched hawke's and hawke's touched varric's and varric's touched rook's and rook is passing it on to the family they're creating. the unbroken legacy of love shines through in ways that are stronger and stranger than any magic. help

[emmcfrxst]

i understand being grossed out by the confirmation that hugh jackman fully cheated on his wife with his coworker but y’all are being absolutely insane over this whole thing. if you’re out there grieving over a man you don’t know (and who is VERY MUCH ALIVE) i think you need to step back a little and maybe see a therapist to work things out and fix the way you’re letting a parasocial relationship take over your life like this 💀

[cybertron-after-dark]

Being constantly surrounded by the presence of a loving God sounds great until you realize you never know when his freaky fuckin eyes are gonna show up to check on you.

And man. They do it a LOT.

[goldkirk]

hey this isn’t aimed at anyone in particular but I’m saying it for the record here: if I tell you no, please stop messaging me about fundraisers and mutual aid.

I get enough messages that it’s impossible for me to keep up without devoting at least half an hour each day, when I’m not even on tumblr that long most days. Me having a boundary about this isn’t a moral failing, it’s a lifeboat for me on my own blog.

In my personal life I’m already advocating and donating literally as much as I can spare. This is not me not caring, it’s just me not willing to interact with that on the one place I go online to not interact with irl news and world events for the most part.

I cannot be upset all the time. I cannot be upset everywhere. I cannot use all my emotional and mental energy fielding my own upset from ongoing events. My options are to hold boundaries about this or stop coming online at all.

I’m all for sharing information and signal boosting to reasonable extents, but the scale of it this year is so large and so enduring that it is literally not possible to for me to participate on every account I have. I’ve previously shared links to Gaza eSIM donations and a major hub of verified Go Fund Mes here and elsewhere online. We, the online humans, know how to look those things up ourselves by now. There are many, many people choosing to do advocacy work, and right now, I can’t be one of them.

If you’re extremely upset when I tell you I can’t share/donate right now about a Gaza family or personal fundraiser you ask me to share here, just unfollow and block me. That’s what those buttons are for. Protect your own emotions and energy and get me off your feed instead of staying upset and continuing to engage with online people or content that upsets you.

Please don’t send repeated angry messages based on manufactured purity politics and moral outrage into my messages and inbox when I exercise the right to run my own blog.

[kamwashere]

just was completely fucking eviscerated by andrew and ryan’s actors on actors interview btw. if u even care.