#she acted like she was afraid of her best friend’s judgment.

[mortemi-immortalitas]

Haters have made these parallels between Willow and Belos. Okay, they're valid.

but we'll see what the difference is. Well, yes, Willow is an authority to Hunter, as is the Emperor, but Willow is an authority to him because she has his respect and he recognizes her as his equal. Belos is an authority because Hunter is afraid of not pleasing him and getting hurt for it, Hunter blindly believes that the Emperor is right about everything, he is used to serving him, he doesn't know any other life. The Emperor in Hollow Mind drags Hunter underground to show him where he belongs and that it is in the lowest depths, he deserves to be where Phil pulled him from 16 years ago. he deserves only to be forgotten, like the past GG, Hunter deserves to be buried in Belos mind, as a mistake, as a traitor, as a fake person, who will never take place as an independent, individual person, like another clone of Belos's brother who couldn't handle his missions.

Willow, on the other hand, drags him underground to prove to him that he's wrong about her team and that he shouldn't give up so easily, thinking he's just an the half-witch. and she succeeds, it has a positive effect on Hunter in the end. he gains, not loses. on the contrary, she elevates him, making him an inspiration to others, helping him to open up, not burying him like Belos. Flyer Derby connected them and thanks to Willow first and foremost it became an integral part of Hunter's life. she is – his Captain the one who didn't let him give up and quit because of his judgment of her team not knowing what they was like without giving them a chance to prove themselves to him. she saw what he was capable of and admired and wanted others to admire Hunter's skills too. She didn't want him to give up and leave . When he called himself a half witch, Willow saw her situation in him, which means he's going to bury his potential and stay in the shadows. But Willow has been through this, and she doesn't want Hunter to lose his opportunity, his place in the sun. She saw that he was able to show a master class and it would be sad and stupid to just hide his talent because he acts impulsively and is actually insecure enough to open up to others to show his shine. This is a situation that Willow has been through and she decides to take matters into her own hands because if not her, then no one. She needs him, she wants to try to open his Eyes and help him, and she has directed this in the right direction. He is – the one who gave them the name Emerald Entrails he is her best flyer and an inspiration to others. Plus, his faith is shaken a bit at the end of "Any Sport In A storm" he begins to slowly realize that the Emperor is teaching him the wrong things. it's bad to keep friends locked up and forcing them to do things they don't want to do, by force, in order to gain respect in a way that Hunter needs and cares about. He stands up for them in the end, doing the right thing and beginning to understand what friendship is and how important it is

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I don’t really think Jackie would’ve kissed Shauna if she had been in Melissa’s place. She was pissed and terrified when Shauna held a knife to Travis’ throat, and shauna was very clearly afraid of what Jackie would think of her for what she did.

[babiestbubbles]

Jason Todd Agere HCS

The first of many, icl. I am possessed by DC demons, I have SO MANY thoughts abt them, pls pls pls hmu w/ Prompts, I am dying to write about these little bat boys

Primarily, if not exclusively, regresses when under the influence. The man is so repressed and afraid of his regression that the one of the only ways he can properly slip into his headspace is when he's drunk/high/etc.

Experiences a LOT of impure regression. Sometimes it's little imperceptible things like accidents after nightmares, so at first he brushes it off as a trauma response (which, technically it is but he doesn’t know that yet) or just a lack of bodily control that comes with revival. It slowly evolves into deep, complete regressive episodes when faced with heavy injury, fear toxin, or when he's home and safe after mission.

To expand on the previous point, he has enough control to keep from slipping during fights/high adrenaline situations, but the second his mind and body register genuine safety (ie. arrival at one of his personal/hidden safe houses or Roy's/a close friend's) he plummets into littlespace.

His close friends aren't overly jarred by it, Jason's always been a little softer, a little more sensitive after rough mission. He always meticulously checks them all over first, only allowing them to give him the same treatment once he's certain all immediate needs have been attended to. It's not their place to judge if over the months that softness has evolved from wordless whimpers and silent tears to soft babbles and tiny acts of self soothing.

If digging through his duffle and shoving a familiar stuffed bear into his arms keeps him from wiggling and whining as they attend to his wounds, just as he did theirs not 5 minutes earlier, who are they to look a gift in it's mouth? It's not like rougher, in-field Jason would take to being patched up all that better.

The process would be laced with fussing all the same, whimpers swapped for strings of curses and flinches traded for Jason brashly pulling away, insisting he could do it better himself. At least this way they can be sure his reactions are signs of genuine pain and discomfort rather than scorn and judgment for their first aid abilities.

He would genuinely rather die again then let any of his family know about his regression and makes it an active point to hide it from them, even at the expense of his health and wellbeing.

Idk much abt Steph but I think she, if anyone, would be the only one to pick up on it. I also think she's the best person of the bats to figure it out, because unlike the others who would confront him about it head on and probably scare him off, I think Steph would soft-launch her awareness of Jason’s regression.

It wouldn't be baby-talk and piles of presents. It would be keeping a few spare kids items in her pouches, a tiny teddybear, a pacifier, lollipops. Things she could easily brush off as occupational necessities.

He has almost NO gear on his own. He has the bear Talia gave him when he was first looking after him. (Before she'd thrown him into the pit back when his mind was too frazzled to recognize or comprehend most of his surroundings. When all he could rely on was his senses for comfort. She picked up on this quickly, flooding the boy with soft scents of cinnamon and nutmeg, cardamom tea, fluffy teddy bears and blankets.)

Aside from the bear all he has is a teether, a busted up old thing. It had water in it at some point, he'd found it in the clearance aisle of a Duane Reade, cheap enough to justify to himself. He'd muttered something about it being good to have for keeping toddlers quiet.

It' hadn't lasted a night in the package before he was gnawing at it, suckling on it, finally satiating the desire to nurse his thumb that he refused to indulge.

The teether had made it all of two weeks before he'd worn it out, busting it amidst a particularly bad crying fit. It only made him cry harder, and while he knew logically he should’ve tossed it the second it broke but he couldn't bear to part with his only other comfort item, and he knew he didn't have the stomach to try replacing it.

That it's for nowwww, pls gimme other characters to do!! I love writing abt them, I could honestly do another dump of just Jason hcs, I have so many thoughts about these little bat boys

Obligatory self-promo for my DC agere discord server

https://discord.gg/QwtaNKMq

Join it! Come harass me for fics, hcs, and drabbles personally ‼️ /silly

[nburkhardt]

There’s something off about Steve and Dustin can’t place it.

Ever since they got back from the upside down, Steve seems more… not better but more, relaxed? Comfortable? He doesn’t know exactly, just something different.

It’s not like Dustin has never seen Steve relaxed, he’s been over at his house sitting next to his cat and listening to his mom explain how to make the perfect fettuccine dish. Steve is already comfortable around him to be bitchy to him, calling out Dustin’s shit immediately.

This? This is different.

Steve is on the grass laying down, arms behind his head and legs crossed. He looks like he could be asleep but Dustin watches as Steve shakes his foot and sees his mouth twitch at whatever Eddie’s whispering in his ear next to him. Robin laughing on Steve’s other side, her feet resting on Steve’s legs.

Dustin can tell there’s a difference between how Steve is acting now versus how Steve is normally relaxed.

Something is different and he needs to know what it is and how he can make sure his best friend big brother is always this… whatever it is. He deserves it.

“Are you trying to explode them? Isn’t that El’s thing?”

He startles and looks over at Nancy, she’s standing there with silent judgment; Dustin has seen that look on Mike many times, even if he knows both Wheel isn’t afraid to voice their judgment either.

Looking back at the trio, Robin now laying down with her head on Steve’s stomach and Eddie mirroring Steve.

“No,” he answers and looks back at Nancy to find her now looking curiously at the trio, “Just wondering what’s up with Steve”

Nancy snaps her attention back to him and opens her mouth before closing it again, looking at the trio; looking at Steve. “He’s comfortable-”

“Yeah I know that, I want to know what’s up with this other- whatever it is.” He snaps, crossing his arms, “that’s more- he’s been like this since we all got back.”

She nods, quickly looking over again before sitting next to him, “I think, he’s safe.”

“Of course he’s safe! We defeated Vecna!” He doesn’t snap, but it’s bitchy and Nancy rolls her eyes at him, before looking back at the trio.

“I mean, he feels safer now. As in, he’s not on guard all the time. He can lay there with his eyes closed, with no weapon or walkie within reach. He’s not only comfortable and safe, he’s- Steve’s happy” Nancy explains and looks at him, going to cross her arms before letting them fall again, “with the upside down behind us, all of us are okay and here- so Steve’s happy and safe”

It makes him blink, dropping his own arms before looking back at Steve. He’s got to be asleep now, with the way his foot isn’t moving now and how Eddie and Robin are also not moving.

“You’ve never actually seen him like this have you?”

He goes to nod, only to realize that, no; no he hasn’t.

Sure, Steve looked relaxed sitting on his couch but now that Dustin’s thinking about it, Steve was twitchy. That he had a leg bouncing and how he picked the one spot that has view of every part of the room. He knows that Steve keeps the nail bat in his car, that it goes inside with him at home and work.

And now that it’s in his head, Dustin can see all the ways Steve was and how Steve is now.

Steve is content and for the first time in years, he is safe.

~

Uh. This wasn’t supposed to go like this? I was going to make this a thing involving Eddie’s necklace but this came out instead 🤷‍♀️

for me there’s a major difference between content and comfortable. Like, you can be comfortable but still on the edge you know what I mean??? But when you’re content… it’s just better?? Idk what trying to say. ANYWAY!!! This is Dustin wanting Steve like this always and hoping to like bottle it up lol.

Also this takes place after spring break, they defeated Vecna. Like a few months after. It’s also pre-steddie, because of course it is.

Taglist (if you want to be added let me know!)

@spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @bookworm0690 @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @i-less-than-three-you @grimmfitzz @strangersteddierthings

[justporo]

A/N: So a little while back on a Discord server something came up about nosebleeds and my head immediately went: haha, Astarion would surely lick that off his partner face no matter that it's kinda disgusting. So have creechur Astarion and also my first official piece for my babygirl Fox!

Pairing: Astarion/Fox(Fem!Tav) Wordcount: 1,2k Warnings: blood and Astarion being a little weirdo about it

Nosebleeds

The fight had been vicious. Everyone in the group had taken a good beating but this time Fox had gotten the worst of it. When Shadowheart had been struck down she had had no other choice but to move from her ranged position to help her friend - resulting in having been beaten and sliced by one of the several Bhaalites the group had been fighting.

At least now it was done with no major losses. Fox looked a little worse for wear but she insisted that she had been roughed up worse before on the streets of Baldur’s Gate as Karlach helped her up and she tried to rub some of the grime and gore off of herself.

It was no help though: blood and dirt was all over her and her red brown hair and she was holding her side - obviously more hurt than she wanted to acknowledge.

Astarion quickly rushed over to her, catching her in his arms before she could stumble to the ground again. There was honest concern in his eyes. The rest of the group took a step back - they very graciously gave the fresh couple their moment. Although - as some of them seemed to say with their glances - they got these moments fairly often.

“Darling, are you sure you can keep going like this?” the vampire asked with an arched eyebrow. Fox scoffed at him and immediately tried to brush him off. She was used to hiding pain and weakness as growing up as an urchin on the streets of this city.

And it was a habit that died hard even with a bunch of people around her caring about her. Too deep ingrained were the manners of acting like a lone survivor.

Astarion rolled his eyes a little, knowing how his beloved absolutely hated being told what to do - and knowing it was even harder for her to accept help.

But she definitely needed a break and maybe Halsin would have to patch her up a little as well. So he would have to resort to other options to convince her. Thankfully by now Astarion had a bit of experience on how to make her take an offered supportive hand.

“My heart,” he began again, cupping Fox’s face and running his thumbs over her cheeks and the freckles there, “you’ll scare all of our targets right off if you keep walking around looking like this.”

“Looking like what?” Fox immediately responded, squinting silver eyes at her vampire, pursing her lips.

Astarion clicked his tongue and waved one hand up and down her form with a pitiful look on his face: “Disgusting, darling.”

Fox swatted his arm - hard - with almost all of her remaining power. “That’s no way to talk to a lady,” she scolded the vampire, sticking a finger into his face but a grin already played on her lips. Somewhere behind her Lae’zel could be heard moaning at the interaction between the two lovers.

“Usually you do the best to claim that you’re anything but a lady, my sweet. You can’t just choose to be and be treated like one whenever it pleases you,” Astarion said and clicked his tongue, lifting one eyebrow again in judgment.

“Tsk, you’re just afraid to be seen with me like this,” Fox gave back a little more weakly. Her injuries really were draining her, it was easily seen now. Astarion tightened his grip on her slightly. His haughty expression dropped, allowing for true and honest concern to fill his crimson eyes. Carefully he moved his hand to brush back a single strand of hair out of the smaller wood elf’s face. She smiled back at him at the gentle gesture.

But there was still a little mischievous sparkle in his crimson eyes. He leaned his forehead against Fox’s.

“Maybe I am,” he whispered and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. (More moaning from Lae’zel.)

Fox heaved a dramatic sigh after the vampire broke the kiss. “Well then,” she said “can’t have the lovely nobleman walk around with a miserable, disgusting wretch on his arm, eh?”

“Ah, thank you so much for understanding, Fox my love,” the vampire responded and cupped her cheek again to press another kiss onto her lips while he wrapped his other arm around her, allowing her to kind of melt into him.

This time though it was interrupted when Fox felt something warm and wet run down her lip. Her nose had begun to bleed. Probably another consequence of the vicious fight that had just ended.

Fox tore away from Astarion, immediately going to wipe her face with the back of her hand as she felt blood already run down her lips and chin. But with his roguish dexterity Astarion was much quicker: he grabbed hold of Fox’s wrists then moved in again as if going for another kiss. But in fact he licked up the fresh blood running down her face - making a little show of it too. Making sure not a single drop of fresh blood went to waste.

Lae’zel’s moaning turned into outright retching noises - joined by some cackling from Karlach and Halsin and comments on how the vampire should keep his gnarly tongue in his mouth by Shadowheart. Gale and Wyll just looked a little startled by what they had to observe out on the open street.

Astarion ended by licking over your lips, making it a lot more lascivious than it had to be and thereby drawing a playful smile from his partner. He ended the whole act with another kiss which Fox quickly deepened, tasting her own blood on the tip of the vampire’s tongue when she pulled him a little closer. Astarion gave a little content hum, intrigued by how the smaller elf had quickly become prone to very public displays of affection - she had learned terribly quickly from him.

She drew back after some more heartbeats. “Maybe a bath and some rest would actually be nice,” she murmured and smiled at Astarion in a way that was clearly asking if he would be joining her.

The vampire’s face lit up knowing he had broken her defiance to a much needed rest. Astarion gave her a smile that answered her unasked question as well as being filled with love and affection.

But before she could turn away so they could make their way back to the Elfsong, the vampire grabbed her face again.

“Wait, love, you still have a little something there,” he murmured and leaned back in to run his tongue over her face again, catching another streak of blood - directly under her nose.

Fox’s nose scrunched up as Astarion now licked the rest of the blood off her rather as if he was a cat trying to clean a kitten. She softly struggled against it but the rogue had her face firmly in his hands and he made sure nothing was left behind.

“Astarion! For someone who just called me disgusting you really have double standards,” the wood elf moaned and pushed her vampire off her finally with her fingers splayed over his face. But it was too late anyway: Astarion ran his tongue over his lips and teeth, fangs glistening before he laughed and and carefully looped an arm around his injured partner.

“Don’t worry, darling, we can be dirty and disgusting together as soon as we are in the privacy of a tub at the Elfsong,” he lewdly promised in a low voice.

Fox laughed and bumped him with her hip. The rest of the group simply were in different stages of burying their faces in their hands for having to put up with the two love doves.

[teenytinyjimin]

if it all ended tomorrow (k. seokjin)

if the sun refused to shine

baby, would i still be your lover?

would you want me there

if the moon went dark tonight?

summary: kim seokjin is an angel, and the only lover she ever needed.

pairing: seokjin x reader

word count: 2.07k

tags: major character death, perfect!seokjin (he’s already perfect anyway), enamored!oc that views him as her entire world

warnings: none except the fact that this is gonna be TRAGIC and i apologize so effing much

author’s note: kim line SLAUGHTERED 🔪 jk but interesting how my first three fics on here r of the kim line. anyways ty for the support <3

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

If she were going to be honest with herself, she'd say, quite plainly, that her life has no meaning or no value. There had been far too much that had happened recently that left her almost numb to any thoughts or feelings she might have or, alternatively, want to have. Most of her days were spent either sitting in bed, stuffing her face with an ungodly amount of food, or going to work and overworking herself to the point where she could barely stand up because of how physically and mentally exhausted she was.

Nothing about these habits was enjoyable in any sense of the word. She didn't like the feeling of being unproductive and unworthy of life. She wanted so desperately to get back into the swing of things. But alas, she couldn't do it even if she forced herself to.

That's why she needed someone else to force her. And that's what happened today. She was invited to a celebration being hosted in an event building at a local park. Her mom encouraged her to 'get out of the house', her friends told her that it would be best to 'stay in-tune with reality', and her boyfriend's friend, a young man named Jungkook, practically begged her to go. Honestly, the first two encouragements weren't enough to get her to go to the event. It was Jungkook's pleading, with his big doe eyes welled with tears and face filled with worry - worry for her wellbeing - that convinced her that she should do something rather than rot in bed.

So here she was, outside of the private event building, watching people walk in before her. She was quite afraid to take a step inside the door because of the judgment she was anticipating. As soon as she was in sight of everyone within the room, she would receive stares, people would whisper, and she would be treated as if she were fragile and deserving of pity. She didn't want that. She just wanted to attend the celebration, make Jungkook happy, and leave.

With a deep sigh, she closed her eyes for a moment and tried to clear her mind of any anxiety she felt in that moment. Her first time being seen by other people in months was something that terrified her, but she wasn't going to let it get to her. She had already let a million other things get to her. Maybe her mom was right. Maybe she did need to get out of the house. Go back to normal life.

As soon as she stepped into the building, she admired how beautifully it was decorated. Pink decorations everywhere, with flowers and music and the sweet scent of roses and candy. It was truly incredible to see how well-put-together the celebration was. She was in awe.

She continued to look around in an attempt to spot people she recognized. She already saw Jungkook on the opposite side of the building with a few of his other friends, however he hadn't seen her yet. She also spotted her boyfriend's parents, standing and talking to other older adults with solemn looks on their faces. And finally, upon scanning the room a little more, she spotted her boyfriend himself. Kim Seokjin, the love of her life.

He looked beautiful. His face, so soft and full of life, sat there smiling back at her. The slight glow to him made him look unreal, as if he had been an angel who landed on earth just for her. Looking at him made her heart completely stop, as it always did, and her brain went fuzzy. Something about him always made her act like a complete fool and she was never able to behave normally around him. She was completely, entirely, 100% head over heels for this man and she always would be.

They say that when you die, the best moments of your life replay in your final seven minutes. And while she wasn't quite dead, looking at her Seokjin started those seven beautiful minutes.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

May 15th, 2015

Tousling her hair a little bit to give it last-minute volume, she heard the honk of a car horn outside of her home. In an enamored frenzy, she smiled widely and started spritzing on her perfume like a maniac before quickly looking in the mirror one last time. She didn't wear dresses all too often, so felt a bit overdressed, but she knew it was for good reason. She grabbed her purse and walked out the door, only to see her gorgeous boyfriend leaning against his car.

Now that she was seeing him in all his glory, she changed her mind. She now felt rather underdressed. Seokjin had his hair beautifully slicked back and was dressed in a stunning tuxedo, holding a bouquet of pink roses. His face, sheen and sparkly, lit up upon seeing her, and his plump lips curled into the softest of smiles.

"You look beautiful," he complimented as she approached him, offering her the roses. "I mean, you're always beautiful, but... wow." A bright red crept to her cheeks as she took the roses and planted a soft kiss upon his cheek. "So do you, Jinnie." His smile now growing much bigger, he gave her a gentle nod and turned to open her car door. As soon as she got in and situated, he closed the door and returned to his side, promptly getting in.

"I have dinner reservations for us, and then I thought we could see where the night takes us. I know neither of us really like being spontaneous, but I didn't really have any other plans," Jin admits sheepishly. "But I figured neither of us would mind as long as we were spending time together, right? Being next to you is enough for me."

"Sounds wonderful," She responded, placing a gentle hand on his knee. She didn't listen to a damn word he said, far too hypnotized by his beauty, but she'd do anything he wanted if it meant being with him.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

July 9th, 2016

“Don’t worry dear, they’ll love you.”

She felt her boyfriend leave a soft kiss on her temple before looking up at him with wide and nervous eyes. She hadn’t said anything since they got out of the car and approached the apartment complex, yet he could easily read her mind without any words being exchanged. Today she was meeting Jin’s best friends and she couldn’t be any more terrified.

She had heard a lot about them. Seokjin never stopped talking about them, in fact. He loved bragging about his friend group and the fun things they’d do, and it almost made her a little jealous because the truth was that she didn’t have a friend group that was even half as close as it seemed like these seven boys were.

“What if they don’t?” The words barely escaped her lips as her bottom one trembled in upset. She wanted to be strong for her boyfriend, she really did, but she was far too anxious about this. He let out a soft hum and reached out to press the stop button on the elevator before turning to her and grabbing her hands.

“Do you trust me?”

She stared into his eyes. His big, beautiful eyes. The eyes that would never tell a lie, and would never lead her astray. She knew she was in good hands, she truly did, but something about the situation made her uneasy. Perhaps it was just the fact that she was meeting so many people at once. Not just people, it seemed like they were a rather rowdy group of boys.

“…Yeah.”

Jin smiled gently as he reached in to place a kiss on her lips and restart the elevator at the same time. “Then you’ll be fine. I promise.”

And just as Jin had promised, she found herself engulfed in dozens of hugs by these six other boys. Not only that, but she felt as if she had been a part of their friend group, their little chaotic family, since the very beginning.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

October 23rd, 2022

"Are you awake yet, beautiful?"

Still half asleep, she stirred in bed, eyes opening to see a blurry Seokjin standing in the doorway of their shared bedroom. He was holding something rather large in both hands, however she wasn't yet awake enough to figure out what it was.

Letting out a soft groan, she rubbed her eyes and sat up in bed. Now that she was able to get a clear view of her gorgeous boy, still in his pajamas but otherwise ready for the day, she saw that he was holding a tray of food. It took her a second to realize that he was delivering her breakfast in bed, but once she realized, a huge grin appeared on her face.

"I am now..." She trailed off, marveling over the food that her lover was now placing in front of her as he crawled onto the bed next to her.

"I couldn't sleep any longer, so I decided to make you some food. I also cut up those strawberries we had in the fridge that we kinda forgot about." He grabbed one and looked at it. "I promise they're still good. I checked each one." Letting a soft giggle out, she looked over at Jin with lidded eyes. "Thank you, baby." She said as he offered her the strawberry in his hand which she accepted graciously.

The rest of their breakfast in bed date was comprised of Jin doing most of the talking while he fed her the different foods he had set up on the tray, insisting that he didn't want her to have to lift a finger and just wanted her to enjoy some good food. From time to time, he got a little too passionate about whatever topic he was speaking about and almost nearly missed her mouth completely, resulting in a few times where he had to wipe around her lips with a napkin and her teasing him until he shut her up with a kiss.

"You know," She said, taking a pause to swallow the food in her mouth. "I absolutely adore you."

"Glad to know the feeling's mutual," Seokjin smiled softly as he fed her the next bite.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Present

“I’m glad you made it,” Her attention was drawn from the picture of her boyfriend to the voice coming from next to her, none other than Jungkook. “It would’ve hurt if you didn’t come.”

She sighed, looking over at her friend with sad eyes. “I didn’t want to if I’m honest. But I knew that if anyone had to be here it had to be me.”

Jungkook wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they stood in silence for what seemed like forever. Part of her wanted to break down sobbing in order to release the emotion she’s been holding on to for so long. But the other part of her, the bigger part, enjoyed the silence and enjoyed spending it with one of her boyfriend’s best friends.

“You know he loved you, right? More than anything in this world,” Jungkook looked at her briefly before looking back at the framed picture of Jin. “You were his everything. There wasn’t a single conversation we had that didn’t involve you in some way. Nothing else mattered to him but you.”

She knew that what Jungkook was saying was true, even if she didn’t want to physically admit it. Obviously they never spoke about funeral plans because they never saw either one of them dying so soon, but she knew that if Seokjin wanted a celebration of life she was the only one he’d ever want there. No one else mattered except for her. The world could have been engulfed in flames but he would’ve been as happy as can be if she was happy too. He would’ve moved mountains for her, walked across a desert with no water for her, killed for her. And the truth is that she would have done the same for him.

Life without Jin wasn’t going to be an easy one. But coming to the celebration of life, seeing his picture, and spending a moment with one of his closest friends made her realize that if she truly loved him, she would do what he would’ve wanted and keep living. For him. Her dearest angel Jin.

[im-dehydrated05]

Not too confident with this one but enjoy!

𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3 | Pt.4 | Pt.5

Aurora made it to class just as the bell rang. She sat down, immediately getting a text message from Cassandra.

CASSI🎭

HEY YOU MADE IT TO CLASS IN TIME?

You're not going to believe me, but even though I fell and ate shit, I still made it in time—just barely!

🤣

YOU SURE YOU DONT HAVE A CONCUSSION?

🖕

Aurora smiled at her phone but placed it down when someone sat next to her.

?: "Hey, what’s got you smiling at your phone?”

Aurora’s breath hissed as she looked at the unhinged psychopath who tried and did stab her in other loops. Her hands trembled, but she tucked them neatly on her lap, trying to seem less panicked.

"Nothing, just my dumb theater friend texting me.”

Mia grinned, scooting over her chair closer to Aurora.

Mia: “Oh yeah, is she like your best friend?”

Aurora's breath got caught in her throat before she let out a shaky breath and finally managed to calm her nerves, giving Mia a calm smile.

"Nah, I already have a best friend.”

Mia frowned a little, resting her head on her arms.

Mia: “Oh yeah, who?”

"Oh, you know, just someone named Mia Winter? You know, it doesn’t really matter in what life I’m in; she just seems to follow me in almost every single one. She has been acting like a bitch, though, and I mean, who the hell stabs their best friend?”

Mia quickly stood straight in her chair, a look of shock on her face. She opens her mouth, but Aurora quickly excuses herself from the class, saying that something has come up, and sprints away. A few moments later, she could hear someone sprinting behind her.

shit. Shit. Shit!

Aurora walks out of the theater quickly, running to the forest, not noticing that Ms. President was looking at her from afar. The blonde frowns at seeing Mia come after the brunette, not shortly after.

Mia made it to the lake in the forest, looking around nervously, almost afraid.

Mia: “Hey Aurora, no hard feelings, right? I didn’t mean to stab you; I just... I wanted my best friend back!”

She took out her switchblade, opening and closing it again and again as she looked around, getting frustrated when she didn’t hear anything back.

Mia: “I don’t know how you remember me now, but it’s obvious that it wasn’t Miranda’s doing... She promised! She promised she would bring you back; that’s why—

Mia fell to the floor, unconscious. We see Aurora behind her, holding a big branch in her hands and breathing heavily. She put it down and grabbed Mia, putting her in a place where she wouldn’t get hurt or hurt others. Aurora turned around, looking at the lake. She cautiously walked towards it and sighed when she saw her reflection.

“Lᴏᴏᴋ ᴡʜᴏ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ.”

"Well, hello to you too.”

Her reflection chuckled, and Aurora smiled while sitting down in front of the lake.

“This is weird as hell.”

“Tᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴏɪᴅ ᴍɪssɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡɪғᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ I’ᴍ sᴛᴜᴄᴋ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ʟᴀᴋᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ sᴇᴇ ᴍᴇ.”

Aurora tilts her head, trying to comprehend everything that the spirit is telling her.

“Yᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴀ Bᴜᴅʀɪᴏʟɪ.”

“That’s my last name, yeah.”

“Sᴏ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴀ ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

The spirit in the lake chuckled with a nervous tone and uncertainty in her voice.

“Yᴇᴀʜ ᴀʀᴇɴ’ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ. A ᴅᴇsᴄᴇɴᴅᴀɴᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ Bᴜᴅʀɪᴏʟɪ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅʟɪɴᴇ, ʙʟᴇssᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ sᴋɪʟʟᴇᴅ ʜᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛɪᴇs?”

The two stare at each other, the breeze blowing against Aurora’s hair.

.

.

.

“I thought my grandma was having another dementia episode when she started talking about witches, but uh, I have like a book of witchcraft...? And other stuff she left me there, all in a box back at the dorm.”

Aurora scratched her neck, letting out a nervous laugh. The spirit squinted her eyes at her with a judgmental look in her eyes.

“Yᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴛᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢʀᴀɴᴅᴍᴀ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ sʜᴇ sᴀɪᴅ?”

"Hey, she said crazy shit all the time; how was I supposed to know that one was true?“

“Oᴋᴇʏ, ᴏᴋᴇʏ, ғɪɴᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ.”

“Thank you!”

Aurora stood up, looking down at her reflection with a hand on her hip.

“So what exactly is the point in all of this?”

"Well, to bring me back, of course. If you do, Miranda will leave you and your friends alone.”

Aurora’s eyes widen.

They’ll be free.

"Okay, I’ll do it. If this will stop the loops, I’ll do it.”

The reflection smiled brightly before a look of shock appeared on her face, and she disappeared, turning into Aurora’s normal reflection.

What the hell?

?: “So you remember the loops?”

Aurora turned around to see a familiar face standing behind her. It was Bela; she had her arms crossed, waiting for an answer.

Aurora nodded, her expression filled with both confusion and relief.

"Yes, I remember the loops.“

Bela is silent for a moment before she walks closer to Aurora, cupping her face gently. There was still no expression on her face, but Aurora still couldn’t hold back the content sigh that left her lips.

Bela: “Are you okay? I saw Mia following you.”

Aurora stepped back, a chuckle leaving her lips, before she pointed to the closes tree to them.

"Well, I didn't want her to hurt me or herself, so I duct-taped her to the tree.”

In the moment, Mia woke up trashing around. Aurora just smiled at her, and Bela looked at Mia with a distasteful look on her face.

Bela: “Where did you even get duct tape?”

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

The blonde rolled her eyes, a tired sigh leaving her lips.

Bela: “Okay then.”

Aurora nods before walking close to Mia and untaping her mouth.

Mia: "Ow, Aurora, what the fuck!”

“You’re going to help me or not?”

Mia: “Of course I am dumb ass; you’re my best friend.

“Good.”

[pippytmi]

wrote prompt # 9 from this prompt list for wildmoore: “There is actually no downside to acting like we would be dating.”/ “Yes, except the part where people would think I was dating you.”

_______

“Ryan, I need you to hear me out, and don’t say no until I explain.”

It is as enthusiastic a hello as any, and Ryan doesn’t question it; when it comes to her best friend and her antics (the chicken incident of last Christmas immediately comes to mind), Ryan has learned to pick her battles. “Hi, Mary,” she says, and patiently shuts her front door as Mary walks right in. “It’s nice to see you too.”

By the time Ryan has locked and bolted her door, Mary has already begun to mix white wine and orange juice into two mugs. This is not the first time Mary has tried to ply Ryan with alcohol to get her to do something really, really stupid (again, chicken thing), and Ryan wordlessly takes a seat at the island and doesn’t bother hiding her judgment.

“Okay, this must be serious,” Ryan says eventually, as Mary hands her a drink with one hand and then downs her own with the other. “I’m afraid to ask now.”

“First you have to promise you won’t interrupt me until I finish,” Mary says. “Deal?”

“Sure, fine,” Ryan agrees, and she even takes a sip out of her mug as a show of good faith. It’s absolutely abysmal given the fact that she’s just brushed her teeth, and she quickly sets it down.

Mary takes a deep breath and straightens. “I need a favor,” she says. “Or actually, Sophie needs—”

“Oh hell no.”

“Ryan!” Mary gives her a half-pout, half-frown. “You said you wouldn’t interrupt!”

“Well you didn’t mention it would involve Sophie Moore.” Taste be damned, Ryan does need alcohol for this conversation, so she says fuck it and grabs her poor man’s mimosa again. “Whatever she wants from me, tell her to forget about it.”

“Technically,” Mary says, raising a finger in the air, “she doesn’t know I’m asking you. So you can rest assured your little arch-nemesis-rivalry or whatever is still intact. And if you would let me finish, I could actually tell you the situation we’re in.”

“You mean the situation she’s in,” Ryan corrects, and Mary levels her with a stare that Ryan has come to recognize as a wordless bitch, please. “Mary, you know I love you, and I overlook your fraternization with the she-devil—”

“Oh my God, you two are so dramatic,” Mary says. “Can I speak now, or are you going to keep rehashing pointless lesbian drama? Because I’ve aged two years trying to explain that all Sophie needs is a date.”

Ryan just about chokes on her wine.

Mary ignores her spluttering and continues, “Look, Sophie called me because she was invited to her ex’s wedding, and she desperately needs a date. I mean, it’s common practice right? If you go to your ex’s wedding, you need to show up with a hot date on your arm. And normally I would’ve done it, but it just so happens that it’s my sister’s wedding…” 

“Your sister?” Ryan feels like this conversation is occurring underwater all of a sudden. “Alice, or Kate?”

“Kate, obviously,” Mary says. “Alice isn’t gay. Well, maybe a little bit, no one knows what to make of the Safiyah thing.” She visibly pauses, and then grimaces. “So not something I want to remember. The point is, Sophie already told Kate she was bringing a plus one before she found out that Kate was my sister.”

“So she lied. I don’t see why you’re over here asking me to—I don’t even know what you’re asking me to do.”

“I’m asking you to be Sophie’s wedding date,” Mary says. “But not for real, since you two are clearly too stubborn to talk to each other.”

“Hold on, what is there to talk about?” Really, at this point it’s the principle of the thing to hate Sophie Moore, who is stuck-up and standoffish and just a general stick-in-the-mud. Ryan can't be faulted for wanting nothing to do with her.

“Don't get all defensive.” But Mary laughs when she says it, and she holds out the wine bottle like it's a peace offering. “Just think about it, okay? Imagine if it was Angelique getting married and Sophie was your only option for a date. She'd do it for you.”

“No she wouldn't,” Ryan counters, but she needs no deliberation in order to accept a swig from the bottle. “And how do you know I'm her only option?”

“Because Sophie told me she's planning on skipping the wedding since she can't find another date!” Mary cries, and she’s clearly distraught at the very idea; she's worrying her bottom lip insistently, a habit Ryan knows she's trying to break. “Come on, Ryan, please? If not for Sophie, then for me. I really think Kate will be sad if Sophie doesn't go, they're in such a good place now.”

“You’re going to pull the do-it-for-me card now?”

“Yes,” says Mary without a lick of shame. “And as your best friend, you're contractually obligated to do anything for me.”

“Even if I said I'd do this,” Ryan starts, and when Mary squeals in excitement, Ryan stresses again, “Even then, Mary, Sophie won’t agree. She hates me as much as I hate her.”

“Just leave that part to me,” Mary says with all the cadence of an evil mastermind, which means it’s probably time to cut her off from the alcohol.

Thankfully they change the subject to whatever Mary is planning on wearing for said wedding, and Ryan is relieved; if this actually were a serious proposal, she is sure the world would have been ending.

.

.

.

The first time Ryan met Sophie Moore, it had been as ordinary a night as any other.

In a way it was reminiscent of the first time Ryan met Mary; Kate Kane would occasionally DJ at the bar, and Ryan met Mary on the first night she’d come in to support her sister.  Like Mary, Sophie had shown up to watch Kate DJ. Unlike Mary, Sophie had been a total asshole all night. She’d ignored all of Ryan’s attempts at small talk (which was a thing Ryan did with everyone in the interest of tips, it was not flirting, no matter how Mary described it). Then when Sophie’s sister Jordan told her to “flirt back with the cute bartender” (which Ryan still objects to every time she thinks about it), Sophie—who was in earshot of Ryan—replied that Ryan wasn’t her type.

And honestly, Ryan could’ve overlooked all of that. She could have! Sophie Moore had no obligation to find Ryan attractive, or even be polite when Ryan served her, so long as she paid her bill and didn’t cause trouble. But at the end of the night Sophie—still in earshot—had remarked to Jordan that the drinks were subpar, and Ryan was pissed. This went beyond poor consumerism; it was just plain rude! And clearly, Sophie had intended for Ryan to hear it, so it just went to show that Sophie Moore was a snob.

Which is why when Mary comes sweeping into the bar and announces, “Guess what, Ryan—you have a date Saturday night,” Ryan almost drops the glass she’s cleaning.

“Oh no no no,” Ryan hastily interjects, setting the glass aside before she uses it as a weapon. “Do not tell me you actually told Sophie I’d do it.”

“You’re doing your best friend a favor and I love you,” Mary says without a hint of remorse, and she completely ignores Ryan’s slack-jawed response, just happily takes a seat at the bar and lifts a menu as if she doesn’t already have it memorized. “Hey, can you bring me some mozzarella sticks?”

“We’re not open,” Ryan says, snatching said menu back. “Mary. Tell me you didn’t do it.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you?” Mary squints at her for a second. “I’m sorry, did you or did you not say you’d do it if Sophie agreed?”

“I said Sophie wouldn’t agree, even if I said I would.”

“Well she did agree, and I said you would, so…” Mary looks far too expectant for a dead woman walking. “I think it’s time you two buried the hatchet anyway. This isn’t Family Feud, you know. I feel like the child of a divorce sometimes.”

“You’ve never watched Family Feud in your life, have you?” Ryan shakes her head. “You know what, forget it. I just can’t believe you right now.”

Mary gasps. “You listened to me explain! Are you seriously acting like I’m springing this on you?”

“You made me listen to you!”

“Okay, I feel like you’re missing the point here, Ryan.” Mary says, “Which is why I am trying to promote healthy forgiveness.”

Ryan narrows her eyes. “Did you rehearse that?”

“Forgive me for caring about two of my friends finding mutual respect,” Mary says dramatically. “I guess I’ll just tell Sophie that you flaked, and that she’s going to have to return the dress she bought, and my dad will be devastated because he loves Sophie more than all of us combined…”

“You’re seriously trying to guilt-trip me now?” Ryan groans, and she stares longingly at the bottles on the shelf that she can’t consume. “Fine. Fine! If this really means so much to you, I’ll pretend to tolerate Sophie. But you’re going to have to lend me something to wear, because your family’s too rich to be around.”

“Thank you thank you thank you!” Mary beams, throwing her arms over the counter to drag Ryan into an uncomfortable half-hug. “And did I mention there’s an open bar?”

“Well damn, you could’ve led with that,” Ryan says, and Mary swats her with a newly-stolen menu.

“So does this mean you’ll get me mozzarella sticks now?”

“No, Mary, we are still closed.”

.

.

.

What does one wear to a date with the devil?

Ryan ponders this once, then twice, and ultimately goes with the black dress stashed in the very back of her closet that she bought for a funeral she never attended. It’s not fancy—modest enough to wear in a church if that was her thing—which suits her just fine. The last thing she wants is Sophie getting the impression she’s trying to dress up for her, or anything.

She is pairing her casual outfit with some silver hoops when her phone rings. It’s Mary, for the hundredth time today. For as desperate as Mary made Sophie sound, Sophie hasn’t made an actual effort to make sure Ryan was coming; no, that honor is apparently all Mary’s.

“Hi, Mary,” Ryan says, putting her on speaker so she can toss her phone to the side. “What’s up?”

“Hey! I just wanted to call and make sure you’re not escaping out a window right now.”

Ryan has to bite back a scoff. “I'm not a fucking runaway bride,” she says. “Wait. Unless this is all some sick, twisted way to get me married to Sophie Moore and you're lying about your sister's wedding.”

“God, you're the most dramatic person I know.” There is rustling on the other end, like Mary is shuffling through paper. “This is why I did not rule out jumping five stories to get out of this.”

“That’s a very tempting offer now that you mention it.”

“Ugh, you’re going to be insufferable all night, aren’t you?” More rustling. “Okay I did actually have a reason to call you this time. I sent a car over to your house—the driver said he’d get there in fifteen minutes. You guys will stop to pick up Sophie on the way.”

“How romantic,” Ryan quips. “Just me, Sophie, and our Uber driver.”

“Come on, I had to make sure you didn’t kill each other before the wedding even started,” Mary says. “Just be nice to the chauffeur. There’s no amount of money in the world that I could pay him which would compensate him for sitting through your drama.”

“Of course, I’ll be a saint to the chauffeur.” Ryan rolls her eyes. “This might be some pretentious rich people shit but I do have manners, you know.”

Mary exhales. “If I hang up,” she says, “will you promise to behave?”

“Really? That is a serious question you're asking me?”

“I need a yes or no answer,” Mary remains stubbornly steadfast.

A beat. “...yes, I’ll behave.”

“Then I will see you at the party. Love you bye!”

Ryan shakes her head to herself. “Bye,” she says to absolutely no one in particular. Well, disastrous situation aside, she makes the most of her fifteen minutes of freedom: she finishes her makeup, takes a quick shot of vodka for liquid courage, and makes her way downstairs to wait for the car so the driver doesn’t have to deal with the conundrum that is her apartment gate.

The chauffeur is a nice, older guy who holds open Ryan’s door and doesn’t try to make her talk. Instead, he plays jazz music and remarks ever so often about traffic and the weather. The vodka is doing just enough to make Ryan relaxed until, well…they reach Sophie’s door. 

As much as Ryan will fight tooth and nail to admit it, Sophie Moore is unfairly attractive. She emerges in a fitted orange dress, hair swept over her shoulder, and with a grim expression that Ryan can’t even take pleasure in when she knows her own face is practically a mirror.

“Hi, Ryan,” Sophie says stiffly.

“Sophie,” Ryan acknowledges just as formally. And then, they sit in complete silence.

Their chauffeur undoubtedly picks up on the tension; he checks on them from his mirror once or twice, but doesn’t ask if they’re okay, he just plays his music louder. When they arrive at the venue, Ryan pops open the door before he can even walk around to get it, already itching to escape.

Sophie lets him open her door, though, and she tips him even though Ryan knows Mary has already done the same ahead of time. Begrudgingly, Ryan can respect that. 

“I…wanted to thank you,” Sophie says once they’re alone. “For doing this.”

Ryan shrugs. “Well, Mary asked me to,” she says. “So.”

Sophie purses her lips. “Either way,” she says, in a manner that is clearly quite annoyed, “I appreciate it.”

“Mm-hm.” Ryan watches as other guests steadily trickle past them, and she sighs, ready to accept her fate. “Should we go in?”

“Yes, but…” Sophie stops Ryan with a hand to her shoulder before she can actually walk inside. “Can you at least try to look like you want to be here?”

Ryan blinks. “What? Am I not believable enough for you?”

“Not if you walk in there like I’m leading you to a guillotine, no,” Sophie replies, brow crinkling. “You know, there is actually no downside to acting like we would be dating.”

“Yes, except the part where people would think I was dating you,” Ryan huffs, and Sophie’s expression twists into an offended glare.

“Why did you agree, then?”

“Because there was a whole thing with Mary, and—” Ryan stops before she’s ahead. “It doesn’t matter. I showed up, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Sophie mutters without any sincerity, and Ryan follows her inside dreaming of that open bar.

.

.

.

Ryan meets the bride just as she’s two drinks in, a third flute of champagne raised to her lips as Sophie not-so-subtly elbows her to pay attention.

“Hi,” Kate Kane says, holding out her hand which Ryan belatedly realizes is for her. “Nice to finally meet the elusive girlfriend.”

“Yes, we were starting to think you didn't exist,” Alice, the other Kane sister, chimes in; she's staring Ryan down with an eerily searching gaze, and Ryan subtly shifts closer to Sophie.

“Well, here I am,” Ryan says, unsurely resting a hand on Sophie's waist. Sophie clearly isn't expecting it, because she starts, throwing Ryan a sharp glance over her shoulder.

“How fun,” Alice says gleefully. “What a nice big, happy family we’ll become. When are you two getting married? I can officiate now that I’m ordained.”

“Alice,” Mary hisses. “You can’t just ask people when they’re getting married.”

“Why not? This wedding is basically a parade of Sophie’s exes. If Ryan doesn’t marry her after all this, it’s a waste of a date.” 

Ryan twists to look at Sophie at the words “parade of Sophie’s exes.” Sophie, at least, looks adequately mortified. 

“She’s kidding,” Mary laughs, high-pitched and nervous as Alice just shrugs. “Hey, we should go take a picture with Dad. Just the Kane sisters! Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Okay, but if I have to hear another passive-aggressive rant about the ceremony, I’m going to kill myself and everyone in the room with me,” Alice’s voice fades away as Mary frantically shoves her (and Kate) along.

Sophie clears her throat. “So that was my ex,” she says. “Kate, I mean.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Ryan should be taking delight in the way Sophie is clearly uncomfortable, but in a strange turn of events, she can’t. In fact, she feels kind of bad.

“I need a drink,” Sophie sighs, and Ryan wordlessly holds out her glass. Surprised, Sophie eyes it up and down, but accepts it all the same. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Ryan cranes her neck to peer at Mary, who is indeed wrangling her sisters towards Jacob Kane. “Hey. Question: Mary said that Jacob Kane pretty much loves you?”

Sophie half-coughs, half-sputters her next sip. “That’s…not entirely accurate.”

“But not untrue?” Ryan quirks an eyebrow, and Sophie’s shoulders slump like she’s lost a battle she hadn’t begun.

“I used to work with him,” Sophie confesses. “That’s how I met Kate. I guess I was kind of his favorite employee or whatever, but—that was a long time ago. It’s embarrassing.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who gets embarrassed easily,” Ryan notes, and Sophie tilts her head, pursuing her lips like she has to think about it.

“Maybe,” Sophie finally admits, “but showing up today dateless would’ve for sure hit the limit.”

Ryan nods thoughtfully. “So that’s why you were so desperate to bring me,” she says. “Even though you don’t think I’m your type.”

This time, Sophie fully chokes on her champagne. “W-what?”

“You don’t have to pretend.” Ryan rolls her eyes. “I heard you tell your sister that. I’m not, like, offended. It was still rude, but—”

“I didn’t know you could hear us,” Sophie says, and in a perplexing turn of events, she looks quite apologetic about the idea. “I didn’t mean it. I just…said it to get my sister off my back.”

“Oh.” Even as the words sink in, Ryan’s brain can’t seem to form a rational response to this information. Or stop the fact that when Sophie bites her lip in anticipation, Ryan’s eyes are automatically drawn to Sophie’s mouth. “I thought you kind of meant for me to hear it.”

“Is that why you think I’m an asshole?” Sophie blinks. “Seriously?”

“Well why did you think I was so mad at you?”

“I thought you just had a problem with police!”

Ryan sucks in a breath. “Oh, no, I definitely do. I guess my reaction was warranted.”

“Real mature,” Sophie says, narrowing her eyes ever-so-slightly, but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips so Ryan knows she isn’t taking it personally.

“No, for real, do you still work with the police? Because this is so not going to work if you do. My acting skills can only go so far,” Ryan says.

Sophie scoffs. “You’ll survive,” she says, and twists to peek back at the busy bar. “Should we join the line for another drink?”

Ryan follows her line of sight and resolutely shakes her head. “I have a better idea.”

.

.

.

“You seriously brought a flask to a wedding with an open bar?”

“If you’re going to keep complaining, I’m going to take my whiskey elsewhere,” Ryan threatens half heartedly, but she gets a heady rush when Sophie tilts her head back to take another drink, and knows then and there she’s going nowhere else besides this coat check closet.

“I feel like I’m in high school,” Sophie says, passing the flask back; her fingertips brush against Ryan’s for longer than necessary. “Was the hiding necessary?”

“Duh,” Ryan says, taking another sip. “Mary would never let me live it down if she saw. She’s already given me so much shit about—” She pauses, not sure if she should continue, and Sophie gives a disbelieving laugh.

“You really didn’t want to be my date, did you? God, you’re so petty.”

“Fake date,” Ryan corrects her hastily. “And you seriously can’t blame me when you were the one being rude as hell in the first place.”

“But it wasn’t really what I thought!”

“Oh so I am your type,” Ryan challenges, and Sophie looks away, blushing.

“Look. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to bruise your ego.”

“That is the worst apology I’ve ever heard.” Ryan feels the whiskey like liquid warmth, settling right in her chest, and she grins when Sophie groans. “Come on, Sophie. I’m going to make you work for it.”

“Fine, I’m sorry for…being rude. Even if it was a little white lie and you weren’t supposed to hear it.” Sophie holds out her hand for the flask again, and Ryan is feeling magnanimous enough to let her have it. 

“Still not the best, but I’ll take it.” Ryan leans her head against the wall and sighs, a little sleepy and a little tipsy but otherwise quite content. “You know, you’re not that bad. Even though you don’t have an actual chance with me since you work for the Gotham PD, I think we can be friends.”

“Oh my God, I don’t even work for them anymore,” Sophie says. “I’m—between jobs.” Ryan watches her wince, like she hadn’t meant to say that out loud, and Ryan closes her eyes and just hums.

“Been there,” she muses. “Mary saved my ass by getting me a job. If you want some pointers, I’m sure I can make a bartender out of you.”

Sophie gives a huff of a laugh. “My mom would actually die if I told her I was training to be a bartender.”

“Hey, it takes a lot to do what we do,” Ryan says. “Not many people can perfect the art of a Long Island Iced Tea, let me tell you.”

“Except for you?” Sophie is already sitting close to share the whiskey, but when she turns to whisper this teasingly, Ryan is struck by how close their faces are. Like if they shifted even two inches, their noses would be brushing.

It takes Ryan a beat to recover, but she manages: “Obviously. It keeps all the customers coming back.”

Sophie’s mouth twitches like she wants to laugh again, but she settles for a smile, amused and plainly unconvinced. “I’ll have to take your word for it,” she says, and she turns away, their closeness vanishing in an instant. “Do you think anyone is missing us?”

“Mary probably assumes I’ve killed you by now,” Ryan says. “But everyone else probably thinks we snuck off for a hookup.”

“At someone’s wedding?” Sophie sounds positively scandalized at the idea. “That’s…crazy. And us? Do we give off that vibe?”

Ryan watches Sophie squirm and finds it, strangely, very cute. Fuck. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but, couples generally hook up. And weddings are pretty much the #1 place where they do it. I’ve seen it happen.”

“Because you go to so many weddings, or is this just a statistic all bartenders know?”

“Don’t hate the player,” Ryan says, waving the flask to make her point, and Sophie finally breaks down into real laughter.

“Oh, God,” she exhales afterward, “what time is it? I think you’ve somehow managed to keep me at this wedding longer than I wanted to. I had a plan to stick around for like an hour or two just to be nice, but…”

“But I’m just that great of a date, I know,” Ryan says, if only to make Sophie blush again.

“Fake date,” Sophie says pointedly. “Remember?”

Ryan bites her lip. “Right,” she says, and just as Sophie is shifting like she’s about to stand up and ruin the moment, Ryan blurts out: “But what if it wasn’t fake?”

Sophie freezes. “What?”

“We could make this a real date,” Ryan says, heart working so hard it feels like it’s about to race out of her body. “If you wanted it to be.”

“Seriously?” Sophie’s mouth falls open slightly, and she says nothing else, just looks at Ryan with those big brown eyes and heart-shaped mouth agape.

“Unless I’m really not your type and you’re just trying to save my feelings,” Ryan tries to quip, but as Sophie seems to struggle through every conflicted expression known to man, Ryan’s hopes fall into the pit of her stomach. “You know what? Never mind. Obviously that’s not what this is and I’m—” She blindly shoves her flask back into her jacket so she can stand.

But before she can even get away (and fall into the beckoning embrace of the open bar), there’s a hand tugging her back down, and then Sophie Moore is kissing her. It’s a rushed, chaste kiss during which Ryan is definitely too stiff, but it does the trick; Ryan stumbles right back down, and Sophie jerks away, fingertips curled into the collar of Ryan’s jacket without letting go.

“You were talking too much,” Sophie breathes, and Ryan nods at her dumbly.

The only thing her brain can possibly formulate a thought for is: “Wait, so this whole time I really was your type?”

“Shut up,” Sophie says, and when she yanks Ryan back in for another kiss, Ryan is already leaning in at the same time, kissing Sophie as well as her smile allows.

(She’ll have to thank Mary for this later. Much, much later).

[tfp-is-my-lifeblood-lol]

hi I love your work

I wanna ask if I can request the tfp bots would react to meeting a bot that hates humanity because they meet a human child who they developed a deep bond with but was kill by some bad humans and after that day they despise and resent humans and just seeing one is a huge Berserk bottom for them

Sure! Love me some angst!

TFP Autobots Reacting to a Bot that Hates Humans (because humans killed the Bot's human partner)

Optimus Prime:

-Optimus would be deeply saddened by this Bot's story. He would hate to think about Earth's creatures being violent, and making the same mistakes that Cybertronians have in the past

-Despite this, he would remind the Bot that hating humans isn't the answer.

"I sympathize with the tragedy you have suffered, friend. The loss of an innocent life, one whom you were close with, at the hands of any creature, is unacceptably cruel. However, might I remind you that, whatever human kind's faults...Cybertronian kind has committed its share of atrocities, likewise...perhaps even worse than that of human kind's. It is best not to judge a species by its most dangerous examples, for every species is capable of both great cruelty, and great acts of kindness."

-He'd constantly be encouraging the Bot to give humans another chance.

Ratchet:

-Learning the Bot's story would really catch Ratchet off-guard. After all, Ratchet complains about humans all the time...but, even though he won't admit it, he cares deeply for the children.

-So the thought of HUMANS harming other humans is very striking. He usually worries that a Decepticon might harm the kids. But, then again, there's also MECH.

-Ratchet wouldn't say much, but, inside, he'd wonder what HE would do if a human were to hurt Raf.

-Who knows. He might even tell the Bot that, although humans have their faults, the children have really grown on him. But he'd never tell the CHILDREN that, of course.

Arcee:

-She's probably the most sympathetic, having lost her own partners

-Not to mention she doesn't know WHAT she'd do if anything ever happened to Jack

-She'd encourage the Bot to go easy on humans, though, and, despite being sympathetic, she might be a bit mistrusting of the Bot

-After all, if the Bot hated humans enough to hurt Jack, Arcee would flip

Bumblebee:

-Bee would be fiercely protective of Raf

-He'd find the Bot's story sad, but he'd probably be the first to intervene if the Bot tried to harm a human

-Bee is used to stopping Arcee from going on crazy revenge sprees, so he wouldn't be afraid to do so in this situation as well

-If the Bot ever tried to attack a human, Bumblebee would stand in the corner making sad eyes, like: "Don't do it!"🥺

-Awww!

Bulkhead:

-He'd be genuinely curious

-How did the Bot's human partner manage to get scrapped by another human?

-Let's hope the Bot never gets into an argument with Bulkhead, because Bulk might even be a little judgmental, accusing the Bot of being a lousy guardian.

-He'd be suspicious of the fact that a giant robot was unable to stop tiny humans from terminating their partner

-Someone should really remind Bulk that MECH exists, and they're capable of fighting Cybertronians. Don't worry. Optimus will probably tell him off.

Wheeljack:

-He'd point to Miko, and say: "What are you talkin' about? Humans are great, if you ask me. Just look at this one. She scrapped an Insecticon singlehandedly, with nothin' but the push of a button. BOOM."

-He'd probably get along with this Bot pretty well, since he's so laid back

He'd tell the human-hating Bot:

"Don't worry, pal. Miko, Bulk and I will keep whatever trouble you have off your tail. Be it pesky Decepticons or bad-news humans. Nothin' a good grenade can't fix. Right, Miko?"

Miko: "Boo ya!"

Smokescreen:

-He's VERY no-thoughts-head-empty about this whole situation

-He even makes jokes about it

"That Bot REALLY hates humans, huh? Haha! Maybe they're secretly afraid of them. There's gotta be...like...a name for that, right? Human...aphobia? Squishy-phobia?"

-He tries to scare the Bot by sneaking up on them and talking in a squeaky voice: "HELLO, (Bot name)! I'm a scary human, coming to accidentally get stepped on and squished. WooooOOOOoooo!"

-Of course, the Bot would never fall for his tomfoolery, and everyone would reprimand Smokescreen for it afterwards

Ultra Magnus:

-He hasn't been on this planet that long, so he might even believe this new Bot's perspective on humans

-He'd ask Optimus: "Is it true what our new recruit claims about humans? If they are not to be trusted, we should do something about it."

Of course, Optimus would say: "(name of Bot)'s judgement is clouded by revenge, Ultra Magnus. Rest assured, the Autobot cause may never have made it as far as it has without the help of our human friends."

[sshbpodcast]

Character Spotlight: Tuvok

By Ames

It’s been a little while since we highlighted a Vulcan on the A Star to Steer Her By Character Spotlight Series. Like Spock, our pointy-eared Voyager crew member Tuvok has his best moments when he is making the audience consider just how human these green-blooded hobgoblins can be. Tuvok benefits from his pure logic so frequently on the show that he is usually the voice of reason in a quadrant full of chaos. But Tim Russ is just so good at the Vulcan nuance that he’s never just a walking rulebook but a living person with flaws and [repressed] emotions.

So join us in a game of kal-toh, which could take years to master, as we shine our spotlight on the Voyager chief of security and one of our favorite Vulcans of the franchise! You can check out all of Tuvok’s logical (and illogical) actions below and/or meditate with us on this week’s podcast episode (telepath over to 1:11:50). Live long and prosper!

[Images © CBS/Paramount]

Best moments

Do not underestimate your own potential Tuvok’s role as mentor to other crew members is frequently nice to see during their long journey. He has the experience, temperament, and patience to guide his comrades through turmoil, especially someone like Kes who has fledgling mental powers. Watching Tuvok meditate with our Ocampan friend in episodes like “Cold Fire” and “The Gift” is very nice to see in helping ground characters.

If you can’t control the violence, the violence controls you Not only is it a genuine joy to watch Tim Russ acting his ass off with the sensational Brad Dourif in “Meld,” but the insight into Tuvok’s motives is also fascinating. In this episode and in “Basics,” he’s trying to rehabilitate Suder’s psychotic mind, which is commendable, but also to understand it in the first place, something that someone like my favorite Voyager character isn’t used to.

Logic in the court Let’s also give Tuvok some credit for agreeing to represent Quinn in “Death Wish” even though he doesn’t agree with the Q’s desire to use the ruling to end his own life. But Tuvok treats the matter fairly and with an open mind, which is only the logical thing to do. Quinn helps him to understand his side of the argument as best he can and Tuvok respects him throughout.

I won’t be afraid, not if you’re with me Just because “Innocence” is a generally terrible episode with awful child actors, really obnoxious aliens, and a deplorable twist, doesn’t mean Tuvok isn’t still great in it. He really is! He’s so patient with the horrible children that he should get an award, and it’s so sweet when he agrees to sit with Tressa when her weird backwards life reaches its natural end.

Computer, Vulcan blend, hot Janice Rand can shut her mouth when she tries to insinuate that young Tuvok is brown nosing when he brings Sulu his tea on the Excelsior in “Flashback.” It’s just plain adorable and his rapport with Captain Sulu is just a delight to watch. Sure, he also insists that Sulu not go save Kirk, but that’s exactly what you’d expect a Vulcan to do.

I’ve seen the way you isolate yourself even in a crowd of people Tuvok’s conversation with Morena about isolation in “Alter Ego” reveals a lot about his character as someone who represses the loneliness he feels while a quadrant away from his family. He connects with Morena in a way no one else on the crew could because they don’t let themselves get close to people. So when he agrees to teach Kim to play kal-toh, it’s so lovely.

8 Simple Rules for Dating my Ocampan Protege A lot of other crew members treat Kes’s dating a new boy in “Darkling” with some condescension. It’s an episode of people treating Kes like a child (which I’ll remind you: she is not) who can’t make her own decisions, but then you’ve got Tuvok being a straight up pal. He expresses to Zahir without judgment that all he wants is Kes’s safety, and boyface gets it.

Seska’s not the only one who knows how to cause a phaser malfunction Turns out, our buddy Tuvok writes a damn good holonovel when we come across his Maquis uprising program in “Worst Case Scenario.” And when the thing goes wrong, as it is wont to do, Tuvok is there to outsmart holo-Seska (the most scheming Seska of them all!) with an overloading phase rifle, like a badass. That’s sure one way to get around writer’s block.

Let’s just watch Event Horizon When Torres is about to get lobotomized in “Random Thoughts” because the Mari’s definition of justice is wildly different from ours, Tuvok leads the investigation and uncovers a black market for violent thoughts. And if that isn’t cool enough on its own, he mind melds with Guill, who can’t even come close to handling that much madness. That man is no Lon Suder, that’s for sure.

I am sorry. I cannot return your affection. Speaking of mind melds! Tuvok melds a lot in this show, and one beautiful example comes in “Gravity.” Noss is crushing on Tuvok hard, and who can blame her? It’s all one-sided though, so in the end, Tuvok melds with her to show her how he really feels. It’s a more intimate act for Tuvok than anything else he could have done, and it’s touching that he shares himself with her.

You’re Neelix. I’m safe with you. The development of the Tuvok-Neelix relationship is one of the best things about Voyager, full stop. And the best representation of this is pretty much everything in “Riddles.” Not only do we get some stunning work from Tim Russ, but we see Tuvok without the emotional clamps on, coming to terms with his situation and choosing to save the ship. Cue the waterworks.

Vulcans do not dance Which leads me directly into our final beautiful Tuvok moment. Because we here at SSHB are big Neelix fans, we welled up at Neelix’s farewell in “Homestead” when Tuvok performs his Vulcan interpretation of a dance for him. It’s no Macarena or anything, but it encapsulates perfectly what these two, who were such an odd couple all show, really mean to each other.

—

Worst moments

My logic was not in error, but I was There’s something almost fascinating about “Prime Factors,” in that the Prime Directive shoe is on the other foot for a change. This is probably what the Bajorans felt when the Federation let Cardassia walk all over them! But Tuvok won’t have any of it! Prime Directive be damned, he’s going to steal the Sikarian spatial trajector against Janeway’s orders.

On your marks, get set, no Tuvok, despite many decades of living with non-Vulcans, apparently has no idea how to treat them. We see in “Learning Curve” that Tuvok is tasked with getting some ex-Maquis crew members in line, and his first impulse is to make them run a 10K with the gravity turned up. Weird flex. And let the Bajoran kid wear his earring, dude! We went over this already with Riker!

I have not always been particularly partial to your methods either What a weird and convoluted episode “Twisted” is, but perhaps that’s its point. What seems more off the mark is that suddenly there’s this polite rivalry for command between Tuvok and Chakotay while Janeway is out of commission. It just seems to come out of nowhere, much like the bickering between Spock and McCoy that we complained about in their character spotlights.

A non-emotional response would be more useful While we did like how Tuvok takes Kes under his wing in episodes like “Cold Fire,” he also can’t help himself in judging her expression of emotions all the time during her training. He constantly sasses her for giggling or feeling overwhelmed or otherwise not displaying perfect Vulcan logic. Uh, Tuvok, did you notice that she’s not a Vulcan? No wonder he gets his head boiled.

In a way, a mind meld is almost an act of violence, isn’t it? While I can fawn over the excellent work in “Meld,” how fixated Tuvok gets on violence is also severely screwed up. His Vulcan logic won’t let him accept that a psycho like Suder doesn’t need a reason to kill, and Tuvok goes way too far with it. And I won’t let him off the hook here: creating a holoprogram to kill Neelix is not okay no matter how you feel about the character.

Neelix in the foyer with the lead pipe The whole saboteur Jonas plot arc in season two was a convoluted mess. You’d think someone as logical as Tuvok would have figured that out, but no. In “Investigations,” he comes up with an even more convoluted plan to get Tom captured by Kazon, endangering the Talaxian ship he was on, and not clueing in people like Chakotay what was going on. And I still don’t know. What WAS going on??

Mom and Dad aren’t home – let’s have a Vidiian party! We joked a lot during The Original Series that whenever Spock was left in charge, things went wrong. Well the same thing happens when this Vulcan is left in charge when Janeway and Chakotay have to be abandoned on a planet in “Resolutions” and the crew is ready to mutiny right away until Tuvok gives in and calls the Vidiians: the one thing Janeway told him not to do.

This has pon too farr! I will never not rag on pon farr as a plot point because it’s too damn squicky. When TOS did it, it was one thing, but when Torres is suffering from pon farr and Tuvok insists that Paris have non consensual sex with her in “Blood Fever,” it’s not okay. Why the writers had to keep sweeping sexual assault under the rug for the sake of Vulcan bullshit is entirely beyond me.

There is little point in furthering this discussion Even the other people on the space elevator in “Rise” can see it: the whole episode long, Tuvok is dismissive and condescending towards Neelix until the Talaxian finally snaps. If we commended Tuvok for developing his relationship with Neelix throughout Voyager earlier, this was the nadir that required them to work towards a bond of respect later on in the series.

A deadly case of writer’s block While it was really fun playing Tuvok’s Maquis program in “Worst Case Scenario,” you’ve got to admit that Seska’s hologram nearly taking over the ship was all Tuvok’s fault. It seems strange for him to not finish the security training program once he’d started it, or at least to delete it from the computer when he accepted that the Maquis weren’t going to be threats.

Big Brother is watching, and mind reading It was nice of Tuvok to save Torres in “Random Thoughts,” but until it was going to affect his crew, Tuvok practically salivates over the concept of the Mari’s thought police. We couldn’t have been the only ones reading some sexual energy between him and Nimira, the Chief Examiner of the Mari Constabulary, right? Stop it, Tuvok. Only Odo may be a fascist on this show.

The call is coming from inside the Vulcan When Tuvok is put in charge of the investigation to determine who’s been attacking former Maquis members in “Repression,” it turns out he’s actually hunting himself! Sure, he’s being mentally hijacked a little bit, but dude, if you’re going to go full fascist in your investigation and inspect the crew’s mail for bugs, don’t forget to inspect yours too! What is with these fascists?

—

Weird how almost all of those moments were heavily represented in seasons two and three? I wonder what happened in season four that sidelined Tuvok so much? We may never know. Let’s see how other characters fare as they progress through the series: come back next week to find out! You can also keep listening to our Enterprise watchalong on SoundCloud or wherever you podcast, mindmeld with us over on Facebook and Twitter, and have a logical day!

[aurorafables]

From the Grey, Chapter 7.

“By the way, I'm Nicholas,” I tried to lighten his mood a little. “My friends usually just call me Nick.”

The boy finally stopped and slowly turned towards me. He brushed his hair away from his face with long, thin fingers, revealing dark eyes, pouty pink lips, and the sweetest nose I'd ever seen.

Hi everyone! Here is a new part of the story with sweet moments between the boys 🥰😊 and some angst from the past.

Have a nice week! 🙂

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Nicholas Ruffilo

Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Angst, Past character death, Suicidal thoughts

Tags: M/M, M/F, Slow burn, Childhood friends, Friends to lovers, Family drama, Band fic, Masturbation, Accidental Voyeurism

Word Count: 4.4k

Cross-posted: AO3

7.

The next morning we had a small breakfast and packed up before we left. I quickly got rid of the rental car at the nearest drop-off point and we drove most of the way in Noah's car. We listened to music, Noah singing Taylor Swift while drumming his tattooed fingers on the steering wheel, and I watched him sleepily out of the corner of my eye, my head resting on the headrest of the seat. It was especially good that I didn't have to drive much, because I didn't sleep well that night. Although I reassured myself that nothing had happened - and this was also confirmed by the fact that Noah showed the same - negative emotions still swirled in me. Guilt that Maya deserves better than me. I'm afraid one wrong word or touch and I'll lose Noah because there's no attraction worth even risking our friendship for. I started whipping myself over and over when I thought about it. I can't act so stupid, I'm a grown man who has been in a serious relationship for almost eight months now, not a stupid little teenager who has no idea about the world. 

“Everything is alright? You're very quiet today," Noah remarked, turning down the radio, keeping his eyes on the road.

“I slept badly,” I answered in a hoarse, sleepy voice, and at least I didn't lie to him with that.

“We will stop at the next gas station. I'll buy you a coffee,” he promised and smiled kindly at me, which I tried to return.

"I might not be the best company today," I said apologetically.

“You don't have to talk to be good company,” he looked at me sideways from under his sunglasses. "It calms me down when you're near me," he added much more quietly.

I pursed my lips, closed my eyes under my sunglasses, and wished he wouldn't be so nice to me all the time. It was as if his comment had fueled that strange feeling in me, which was pleasant, but I had to suppress it as soon as possible, because it would only cause my loss in the long run. 

After a few minutes we pulled into a gas station parking lot, but Noah didn't get out of the car immediately. He unbuckled his seat belt, took a deep breath, and turned to me.

“I would like to apologize for my behavior yesterday,” he began, which immediately made me pay attention to him, and suddenly the dream escaped my eyes. “My morning wasn't the best, and then…” he shook his head, causing his hair to fall into his eyes “and then Karin called me saying she wanted to meet.”

Oh. I didn't expect him to talk about it, even though I could have learned by now that if I gave him enough time, sooner or later he would pour his heart out.

“What did you say to her?” I asked breathlessly.

“I said it's over. Everything, that was between us.”

My mouth twisted into a proud smile.

“I think you made the right decision. You've already finished it once, there would be no point to continue and hurt each other.”

"Yeah…" he said thoughtfully.

I swallowed the thoughts of how badly the girl had affected him, and that he could find a thousand better women than her if he wanted to, because I really didn't really know what kind of mental state he was in, and I felt that it would not be constructive at that moment. 

“If you want to talk about this or anything else, I will be happy to listen to you at any time,”I said instead of my judgmental thoughts. Noah's grateful look made it worth it.

“Thank you. I don't know how to thank you for caring so much about me.”

“For a start a big cappuccino will do,” I joked with him to lighten both of our melancholic moods. Noah smiled but still didn't go. I could see he wanted to speak about something else.

“About what happened in the afternoon… I think it's also due to my fucked up mood.”

I blinked a few times and remembered our conversation two days before when we slept in the same room after stargazing and Noah apologized even then, though he didn't say exactly why. I felt that it would be no different now, but something told me that it would be better for both of us if I didn't mess this up. Besides, I felt equally responsible.

"Yesterday afternoon was particularly good," I said honestly, because no matter how messed up the ending was, we laughed and talked a lot before it, everything was almost the same as before.

Noah pushed his sunglasses on top of his head and scanned my face.

“So isn't that why you're in a bad mood?”

I'm in a bad mood because we almost kissed in the lake, completely attached to each other's bodies? Because I almost cheated on my girlfriend with my best friend? Or because I loved every minute when our bodies touched? Is the reason for this messed up mood that I get into the room, half lying on the floor, because my cock was throbbing so much after hearing his moans that I didn't even have the opportunity to sit on the bed? Or because of all the fucking sexy things my brain was creating and he was the main character in all of them? I have no idea what exactly the question was about.

“I'm tired, I could sleep here in the car, only my neck would hurt,” I answered. “Tomorrow, after a long sleep, everything will be much better.”

I really believed in this, because when I'm rested, it's much easier to cope with any test that life throws at me. Maybe I felt tired and bored, that was just a bad move and I could screw everything up - if I haven't done it yet - but tomorrow, fresh, I will definitely see things in a better light. 

"Okay," Noah agreed thoughtfully, then grabbed his wallet and hopped out of the car. “A cappuccino, as you said. Anything else?” he asked with a smile as he leaned in the door.

“A chocolate chip cookie, please.”  I returned his smile when he nodded. 

He put on his sunglasses and pulled the hood of his hoodie over his head. While he went into the store, I got out to stretch my legs and smoke a cigarette. 

I was already getting back in the car when I saw Noah exit the small shop at the gas station and start heading back, but it seemed I wasn't the only one who noticed. He was stopped by a middle-aged woman with long red hair and a younger girl. I could tell by their body language how excited they were when they started talking. His presence has probably made their day better, but maybe even their whole week. I watched him as he bent down a little so the height difference would not be too disturbing, as he smiled restrainedly, but kindly, and paid attention to them. I felt a pleasant feeling move in my chest because I was in such an advantageous position that I could receive this attention at any time. Noah nodded, then smiled as they took a few selfies, he held the phone with his long arm. He pulled his hoodie up over his forearms, the muscles on which were tense and his dark tattoos glistened in the sunlight. His hair fell forward as they checked to see if the pictures were okay, and I wondered if I had ever felt as much desire for another man as I did for him. The answer was clearly no. 

In high school, we were told a thousand times that we were gay because of our long hair and eccentric style, but I never seriously thought about the possibility, because for me the girls were interesting enough, anyone could say anything. Our friends also looked at us strangely when they found out that I lived with my best friend, but they didn't ask about it too much. Did Noah feel the same way? I remember a long time ago, at a party, he kissed a guy, but it was just a silly, drunken challenge, not a real kiss, and it didn't last more than a few seconds. He always had girlfriends and it never occurred to me that he might even be bisexual. And then there was Noah's mom…who loved to attack our friendship and all the good things that happened to her son.

It all started when two boys started teasing Noah at school, and one of my friends and I listened to it all. They made rude comments about his hair and figure, and when that didn't get enough of an impact and reaction, they started teasing him about having Asian blood in his veins. He was told that it was indeterminate whether he was a boy or a girl, just like in Japanese anime. I think this was the point where even though I hated conflict, I had to step in because I absolutely loved anime. And I didn't understand why you couldn't leave a boy alone who just wanted to write his homework. 

It only took a couple of well-selected sentences from Davis and a few condescending glances from me to make the young boys go away in defeat. They wisely decided that it was pointless to confront the three of us, especially since my friend and I were several years older. We had a fist-bump with Davis, who immediately left for class, and only then did I turn to the boy, who got up from the bench and started packing his things back into his bag. His hair fell into his face as he leaned forward, his movements looking nervous. I've never been the type to initiate acquaintances. I hated big company and could only really open up to a small circle of friends, but… I felt I had to open up to him. Little did I know then that I was making the best decision of my life. 

“By the way, I'm Nicholas,” I tried to lighten his mood a little. “My friends usually just call me Nick.”

The boy finally stopped and slowly turned towards me. He brushed his hair away from his face with long, thin fingers, revealing dark eyes, pouty pink lips, and the sweetest nose I'd ever seen.

"I could have dealt with them alone," he declared instead of introducing himself. I wasn't mad at him though, I knew he was still in passive aggressive defense mode.

“I know,” I answered and smiled cautiously. I didn't want him to feel like I was laughing at him. “But I am desperately collecting friends who like anime.”

With this, I managed to remove some of the storm clouds from his face.

“How many friends do you have like that, Nick?” he asked with interest, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“I hope you will be the first,” I answered honestly, for which I received a bright smile in response.

"Noah," he said, twisting his fingers, turning his gaze to the ground. "I mean, that's my name," he added, laughing nervously, looking up at me again. 

"Noah," I said his name, just to know how it felt. I loved it. 

In the weeks that followed, Noah easily fit into my group of friends. No one really noticed that he was three years younger than us. Even then he was almost as tall as me, and much more mature than his age would have suggested.

The summer holidays were approaching, the students were less and less focused on studying and wanted to stay more and more outdoors. I couldn't wait for the bell to ring from our last class on Friday and it would be the weekend. Not because I wanted to party - I've never been a party animal - but so that I can finally get a good night's sleep and draw as much as I like. I was decorating the edge of my notebook throughout math class, and when the bell finally rang, I was one of the first to get up, threw my things into my bag, said goodbye to the two boys I had been friends with for years, and stepped out into the hallway. Noah was leaning against the railing waiting for me, drinking a can of Coke and smiling when he saw me.

"Thanks for waiting," I told him as we walked out of the building. “This math class was dead boring.”

"I can't say that this was the most exciting day of my life either," he answered, smoothing his shoulder-length brown hair behind his ears. “But maybe it will get better from now on.”

“For sure. It is even more fun to sit in the church and listen to the teacher about nonsense.”

"Brr, don't even mention the church," he said with disgust on his face. I laughed to myself as he wrinkled his freckled nose, pursed his lips, and was visibly sick of even the thought. He said that his grandparents, with whom he lived, were very religious and forced him to participate in church work, even if it’s about repairs or fundraising.

We walked down to the front of the building when a bunch of young boys turned to us and giggled as we passed them. I saw in Noah that he was uncertain for a fleeting moment, but then he kept his head up and walked confidently.

“You shouldn't show off with me,” he remarked when we left the gate. “You must have noticed that I am not the most popular student.”

“Don't think I'm afraid of your classmates in diapers,” I snorted, touching my pockets. I couldn't wait to finally light a cigarette. I found the box with the lighter inside and took out a cigarette. I noticed Noah reach out his hand as well, causing my eyebrows to rise to the center of my forehead.

“What is that?” Noah asked.

“Aren't you too young for that?”

He just rolled his eyes, then grabbed my wrist where I was holding the box and took out a cigarette. He lit it with practiced movements and blew the first puff of smoke into my face, making me roll my eyes. 

“Just because you're older, you don't have to play the adult.”

“Just because I smoke is not an example to be followed,”I retorted, but I couldn't take this conversation seriously either, and by the end we both laughed at each other.

“Don't worry, I already smoked before I met you.”

“Huh,” I squeezed my hand dramatically towards my chest. “Now a huge stone fell from my heart. I was already beginning to think that I had led you into trouble during our short acquaintance.”

“My grandparents won't be coming home until Sunday,” Noah explained as we got to their house. I looked up at the two-story building, which was surrounded by a large, well-kept garden, and nodded approvingly. It was the first time I visited them, only three weeks had passed since we met in the schoolyard.

"I guessed you were a little prince," I said with feigned seriousness. The house was about twice the size of the one I lived in with my parents and four siblings. Noah snorted, but didn't answer anything, he just opened the door with his key, and then we entered the hall one after the other. Even next to the coat hanger, the face of Jesus greeted me on the wall. It seemed that Noah was not exaggerating when he spoke about his grandparents' religiosity. I kicked off my shoes and continued to look around while Noah struggled with his tangled shoelaces.

“Who is she?” I asked, pointing to a beautiful woman in one of the paintings. Her brown hair was at least down to her waist and she wore a blood red cloak over her long dress which she held in her hands at her chest.

"Mary Magdalene," Noah answered as he straightened up. “She…”

"Many people believe that she was Jesus' lover," said a woman's voice behind us, and we both turned on our heels in surprise. "Hello, I'm Noah's mother, Elizabeth," the owner of the voice extended her hand to me with a soft smile on her lips. Her light brown hair was tied back in a bun, her nails were painted bright pink, and she wore a short black dress that showed off her long thighs. She looked barely over thirty, I would never have guessed she was Noah's mother. I would have guessed it was his sister.

“Good afternoon. I'm Nicholas,” I shook her hand politely. Her skin was hot and slightly clammy, her grip strong. Then we both turned to Noah, who was standing with his arms crossed in front of his chest, not moving.

“Don't you welcome your mother?” asked the woman, raising the glass filled with whiskey she was holding to her mouth with a smile.

“Why are you here? “Noah asked, but his voice was barely above a whisper.

“I don't have the right to visit my son?” Since Noah didn't appreciate any reaction, she drained the rest of the drink from her glass and continued: “Your grandmother mentioned that you will be alone. I thought this would be the perfect time to get back together.”

When Noah told me about his bad relationship with his mother, I thought they didn't get along because of some sort of teenage rebellion. I never thought that Noah could act so cold with someone when I got to know him so friendly and kind in the last few weeks. 

I followed him up the stairs with furrowed brows as he started without saying a word to his mother. When we entered his room, he immediately locked the door and collapsed on the bed, broken. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't know she would be here.”

“It's okay,” I reassured him immediately and fell down next to him. "She doesn't seems that bad," I added, but I saw that pained smile on Noah's face that I haven't been able to get out of my head since, and I kept seeing it in my mind as his mother stabbed him in the back over and over again just to see him suffer. 

I stood up and walked over to the bookshelf to look through his manga. He said he would be happy to lend me any of them if I wanted to read them, and I chose two. Afterwards, I sat back next to him and we were talking about school, when my sketchbook, in which I used to draw, came up.

“Shall I show you?” I asked Noah. His face lit up as he nodded, so I reached for the ceiling and pulled my t-shirt over my head. Noah leaned very close to my shoulder, which was decorated with a fresh tattoo. My first tattoo, a beautifully crafted bird wing.

“I want to tattoo my entire arm,” I explained to him, while he touched my skin, as if he wanted to test whether it feels different over the tattoo. - I designed this too, and if I collect the money for it, we will continue. Maybe one day I'll be a tattoo artist, who knows…”

Noah nodded and struggled to break his gaze to look up at me.

“Your drawings are very good, there is no doubt that you have a talent for it,” he said honestly. “I want a tattoo too.” He bit his lip as he thought. Then he slowly pulled up his t-shirt and placed his index finger on one of the small scars on his chest.

“Do you think these could be covered? There was this car accident and… I broke a few ribs, and then in the hospital they put tubes in… here too,” he smoothed a hand over the side of his chest. “Although the doctors said that it will almost completely disappear by the time I grow up, I still want something on it.”

I didn't know that particular accident was so serious that he lost his father and everyone died except him. I had no idea, it had been many months have passed before he told me about that summer day.

 

“They can surely make it disappear,” I answered him, while my gaze involuntarily fell on his ribs, which almost pierced his skin. Noah might have noticed because he quickly readjusted his shirt and wrapped his arms around himself defensively. I hated myself for making him uncomfortable, it was the last thing I wanted. I also put on my t-shirt and smiled at him from under my eyelashes.

“Can I have some tea now?” I referred to his offer from half an hour before. Noah nodded enthusiastically, and while he ran down to the kitchen, I picked up one of the manga and started flipping through the pages. He left the door ajar, so I heard him approach cautiously after five minutes, probably to avoid spilling the contents of the mug on himself. I looked down at the bottom of the page I was reading, noted the page number, and closed the book. Then I heard Noah's mother's voice. His speech was slurred, I could tell even though he was half-whispering.

“Your grandmother must be proud of you for being gay. She must be happy to tell it in church.” The smile immediately melted from my face and I sat frozen on the bed. “Look at me when I talk to you!” Elizabeth didn't even try to suppress her voice.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Noah said quietly. His voice was laced with pleading and fear. My throat tightened. “Please…”

“More about who. Nicholas, if I remember his name correctly. Why would you bring a boy here and shut him up in your room?”

“Nick is my friend.”

“Who would want to be friends with you, baby?” asked the woman almost regretfully. “You are so naive, Noah. Everyone has an ulterior motive.”

My hands were clenched into fists, my blood pressure skyrocketed, and yet I didn't move. I was held back by my good upbringing, by the fact that my parents taught me to be obedient to adults. Later, I regretted a thousand times that I didn't stand by Noah and get him out of that family right away. That place was equal to hell on earth. I heard a door close and Noah finally entered the room. His hands were shaking, the tea between his fingers spilled onto the floor, but his face remained completely emotionless. I jumped off the bed and took the mug from him so he wouldn't drop it. This time, I locked the door and took out a pocket of tissue from my bag. He accepted without a word, wiped his hand, then threw it away and we sat next to each other on the bed.

"If you don't feel like staying, I won't be mad if you go home," he said without looking at me. He knew I heard every word of the conversation. His fingers dug into his thighs and his face went completely pale. I didn't really know what to do in such a situation. I felt uncomfortable, I was angry, but I wanted to help him feel good again. This was the most important thing, because over the weeks I slowly began to become completely addicted to his smile. I put the tea on the table and turned to him.

“Would you like me to go home?” I asked him because I had to know what he wanted.

Noah finally looked up at me. Unshed tears glistened in his eyes, his lips trembled. 

“No. I want you to stay.”

His voice was childish, not the confident teenager I knew from school. I quickly realized that it was just a disguise, but I was relieved to hear his answer, because I would not have liked to leave him alone with that woman.

“Then I'll stay,” I answered and slowly smiled. It took a few seconds for him to return the smile, and even though it didn't quite reach his eyes, I was satisfied with that. “Which anime would you like?” I stood up and started watching the DVDs packed under the TV.

“Choose something. Surprise me,” he replied with a slight challenge in his eyes.

It was the first and last time we went to their place after school. Afterwards, we always ended up at our house, and Noah didn't seem bothered by my loud brother, my hysterical little sisters, or the fact that the hot water kept running out late at night and we were forced to take cold showers if we were immersed in the conversation. If the milk ran out in the morning, he made his porridge with water and didn't complain if we had toast for lunch. I noticed how strange it was when mom or I hugged him. Like he doesn't know what to do with it all and is confused. But it only took a few weeks for all of that to change and he almost started demanding touches. 

Noah walked to the car and turned back to make sure no one was following him before getting in. I followed his approaching steps with half-closed eyes, trying to figure out what had changed. Where was the tipping point when I started finding him attractive. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't figure it out and that only made me more frustrated. Noah got in and handed me the coffee and the paper bag, then pulled the hood off his head. 

“I hope it didn't get too cold,” he said with an apologetic smile.

I tiredly returned his smile and handed the biscuit back to him.

“Half of it is yours. And thank you.”

He didn't argue for a second that I wanted to share the dessert with him. He began to eat the cookie with gusto, while I drank my coffee thoughtfully.

“Noah…we'll be fine, right?” I suddenly asked out of nowhere. My voice sounded so scared that I was surprised by it. 

He looked at me confused, with a small crumb on his mouth that I was tempted to wipe off, but luckily he licked it off before I could move. He swallowed the bite and looked deep into my eyes. 

“Whatever happens, we will always be here for each other. You are the only sure point in my life. Believe me, I will do everything to be your sure point.”

I nodded and closed my eyes again. I think that was enough to make me feel better, if only a little.

[lostdemidog]

DAILY WRITING PROMPT

You are in love with your best friend, but she has no clue. You have suffered in silence as you have watched her fall for the wrong guys over and over again. Graduation is coming up, and you are running out of time to tell her how you feel. Will she finally see that it should have been you all along, or will she break your heart forever?

you’re joking. - eddie munson x reader

MASTERLIST pairing: eddie munson x f!reader (a/n): requests are open! honestly just enjoy the ride. if you like this i’ll throw in a NSFW part two. CW: weed, smoking, suggestive content toward the end. all notes are appreciated. words: 1.5k

Since we came to this hellscape we call Hawkins High School, Eddie's life has been loveless regarding human-to-human attraction. He was utterly zoned in, drawn into his passion for Dungeons and Dragons that he had no time for anyone. 

That is until he saw her.

There was something he found mesmerizing about how she presented herself. Her outfits, her hip sway when she walks, how she tilts her head back when she laughs, and how she grins at him across the lunchroom when he's staring with a sly grin. It had his heart dancing around in circles. And she had no problem talking to him while other people threw labels on him. Weirdly enough, she motivated him to do better in his classes, though the efforts were to no avail, and his grades still hammered into the ground. It's the thought that counts. 

It wasn't that he was particularly nervous around her, more so that he didn't see the appeal of approaching her. If she returned any feelings, then she could be the one to make a move. That is until graduation grew closer and closer.

They were seniors. The likelihood they'd talk once they graduated was thin, and he needed to make his move as soon as possible. Those idle chitchats and this mutuality of loveless chatter they've developed won't work. Not for him, and little does he know it won't work for her, either.

That's when he makes his move.

Lunch had come around, and she was sitting with her friends, grinning at one of them as they held an open conversation that was easily forgettable and only filled the quiet air to refrain from awkwardness. Suddenly, one of her friends speaks up in a mild panic.

"Shit! Freak alert!" They whisper, her eyes glancing to the side where Eddie strides toward their table. Honestly, she can't hold back her grin as he pushes his way between the two jocks in front of her. "You got a problem, Munson? What's your fuckin deal, freak!" Eddie ignores them with a sly Cheshire Cat-like smile, sitting between the group who glare him down but seem unnerved and afraid to act on their frustrations.

"(Y/N)," Eddie greets, resulting in her raising her brow as she watches him take a fry from one of the lunch trays, popping it into his mouth, ignoring his bothersome protests. He chuckles, then slams his hands on the table, leaning forward in her face. "Come over? After school?" his voice is a bit more hushed. His brows raise momentarily in a suggestive tone, making her laugh.

"Alright, freak," she bites back, leaning in as well, the tension between them prominent. It takes everything out of her not to glance at Eddie's lips. "Why not? See ya soon." Eddie bounces on his heels, laughing as he moves away and jumps over the seat he was previously placed in, seeming giddy and cheerful.

"You won't regret it!" he shouts, taking his lower lip between his teeth as he bounds off to his table. She playfully rolls her eyes, cheeks growing rosy as her friends complain and try to change her mind, which she ignores. It's something she's grown accustomed to, blocking out these annoyingly judgmental pricks she forces herself to be surrounded by.

After long agonizing hours of classes and pointless conversation, the final bell rang to dismiss those inside this prison. It was a few minutes walk to Eddie's place, but he'd offered her a ride. Pulling up in his run-down smogging van, he halts to an intense stop, almost hitting her.

"Get in!" Eddie shouts, loud music blasting from his van. She laughs, throwing her bag through the window, then opening the passenger door, hopping inside, and slamming the door. She barely gets time to react as he hits the gas with full force and try jerk forward. The song that's playing is one she actually recognizes.

"Wild Child?" She shouts over the loud music, Eddie looking over to her and cackling with pure joy that she knows what he is playing. He hits the steering wheel to the drum beat as he drives, nodding his upper body to the guitar riff.

"Cultured are we, prep?" Eddie laughs, raising a brow at her as the words pick back up after the bass. He sings with no shame to the tune, the thrill of it all making her cheeks redden as she sings with him, murmuring the words she doesn't know. Eddie then reaches over and opens the glove box, album discs inside. "Go on, look through." He grins, giving her a nudge with his hand on her arm. Per his request, she looks through the different albums with curiosity. Then, she finds one labeled Iron Maiden, popping out the W.A.S.P. disc and slipping in this one. It takes a moment to register, but then The Trooper blasts in her ears, Eddie looking at her with a laugh and shaking his steering wheel. "Fuck yeah!"

It goes on like this for a good few minutes, though it gradually calms as he pulls up to his trailer, stopping his van with a rev of his engine, key clicking as he slips out of the vehicle, grabbing her bag and beelining to the door, opening the door with an excruciatingly extra bow.

"After you, m'lady," he says in a low voice, making her gently push his head with a chuckle, walking inside. The smell of cigarettes, weed, and last night's dinner hit her in a wave. She isn't repulsed, merely mildly surprised by such a new scent. Eddie tosses their bags to the floor, sighing softly. The question he asks next is so abrupt it almost makes her gasp audibly. "You smoke? Weed?" his voice is curious as he stalks to his bedroom, urging her to follow.

"Once, it was at a party," she laughs awkwardly, making him turn his head over his shoulder and look at her. She can't help but notice his beautiful curls and large puppy-dog eyes. Something about him charmed her despite his quirks, and she didn't fight back the grin as he grabbed a box, pulled out a joint, and kicked off his shoes, flopping onto his bed and lighting it with a cheeky grin. Eddie pats the empty area beside him, stretching like a lazed cat. Hesitantly, she follows and sits across from him.

"You know, Teddy," she starts, Eddie's eyes widening. "I'm curious. Why did you invite me?" she cocks her head to the side, Eddie biting back a sly and devious smile.

"Oh, no reason, just to kill you," he says casually, watching her face contort into confusion. He scans her face carefully, a pink tent coming to his face as he takes a drag from the roll, holding the smoke in his mouth before he speaks. "Chill, I'm joking." his reassurance is abrupt and monotone, but he obviously is sincere. 

Well, as open as Eddie Munson can get.

"No, I was just hoping we could talk about sum' is all," he starts, eyes glancing away. He wasn't ready to talk about it yet, but he dug into this hole; he had to explain. "Look. I'm gonna lay this out as clearly as I can." Eddie inhales a deep breath of smoke, looking into her eyes and then coughing out the smoke. "Fuck!" he balls his hand into a fist over his mouth, trying to catch his breath. "I'm not high enough for this..."

Eddie's eyes meet hers again when he surfaces, concern and confusion prominent on her features. Eddie's gaze softens for the first time, and a genuinely gentle smile comes to his lips as he stares at her beauty. "I like you," his words are abrupt as he sits up, keeping eye contact. She laughs at first, taking it as one of his jokes, but realizing quickly he means his words. Her eyes widen, and she blinks a few times as if he'd disappear if she did it enough.

"You're serious?" she suddenly asks, brows furrowed. Eddie seems anxious for the first time in a while, his breath hitching briefly.

"Absolutely," he affirms, making her cheeks redden. Obviously, she's surprised, but then she speaks up before he can make a joke to cover this.

"THE Eddie Munson likes M.E.?" she laughs, dragging her hands down her face. "Holy shit!" Eddie seems confused now, but she moves forward, placing her hand on his free one. "You don't know how fuckin' long I've waited to hear that, freak." her tone is soft, eyes glossy with affections held back for ages. Then, before he can react, she moves in and kisses him. Hesitation washes over him at first, but then he wraps his free hand around her waist, tugging her unto his lap. A soft groan escapes his lips, the kiss deepening with long-awaited passions. Her tongue traces his bottom lip, but he pulls back.

"Wait a minute, sweetheart," he chuckles, biting her lip playfully. Then, he draws in a large puff of smoke, moving in and kissing her with the same passion as before. The smoke dances between their lips, his tongue tangoing with hers as his hand trails down her pants, grabbing her ass, loving how his fingers seep into the skin.

They were surely going to make this a night to remember.

[blackjackkent]

OK. I think I've hit the majority of the Underdark map. So we're going to head back topside and investigate the Waukeen's Rest place that @zenjestrr mentioned and then head for the mountain pass.

However, before we go, we're going to go ahead and knock Omeluum's quest item off the list, against Hector's better judgment.

I think this is another case, as all his most ill-advised ideas are, of his curiosity getting the better of him. An academic mind flayer is definitely strange and calls to the same part of him that the conversation with Lae'zel just now did as well.

And to be honest, he's been so afraid of everything for weeks now, so this other terrifying thing doesn't really stand out as much as it might otherwise.

"I greet you, sun child," it says to him. I'm not sure if it says this because he's from the upper lands or because he's a Selunite but either way it's an interesting way to open the conversation.

We have more questions available to ask here than I thought.

"How did you escape your colony?" he asks, mind-to-mind as they have spoken before.

The mind flayer's tentacles twitch thoughtfully. Then it shakes its head. "That is not a story I share with strangers," it says quietly.

You know what? Valid. In some ways Hector must be as strange to it as it is to Hector.

"How do you survive? Don't you need...brains?" Hopefully a less intrusive question, but who knows.

"In the beginning, I had an arrangement with a lich. Excellent company, despite what one would expect. I required brains, he required souls. A perfect symbiosis. But our ambitions eventually splintered. I wished to better the world, and he preferred its rot. So I left his company, and thus I now feed from those who...act against the Society's goals."

Hector shifts uncomfortably. The creature speaks very matter-of-factly about a method of killing and consuming that feels like an abomination. Then again...how different is it from Astarion telling him, equally matter-of-fact, that he will only drink from those they have to kill anyway? Indeed, Astarion's motives are far more practical than Omeluum's, as the latter seems to have a true driving motive beyond survival.

"Best way to deal with that sort of hunger, I suppose," he says warily.

The creature has no readable expression, but his thought-voice carries a note of a cool smile. "Perhaps the peoples of the Underdark will be less inclined to violence if they comprehend the cost, yes?"

Hector lets that one go without comment, steels himself, and then says, "I'd like to learn more about the tadpole."

(Karlach approved at this point, which leads me to believe this whole ordeal might have been partly her idea - she is, of their little group, probably the one most likely to have an open mind about it. And it also explains why Hector goes along with it, since he is starting to really value her opinion.)

Narrator: An almost childlike joy enters Omeluum's ichor-laced eyes.

"Open your mind to me, friend," the mind flayer says. "Let us see what lurks within."

Everything in Hector's body cries out to run away from this experience, but he steadies himself. After all - far better this than Volo's knitting needle, right?

Relax and allow Omeluum's mind to search yours.

Narrator: As Omeluum's mind pierces yours, the tadpole pulses with power. It feels ten times its size. Alive, awake. Almost smug.

The feeling is horrific, terrifying. He swallows a choked cry, stumbles backwards a step, feels Shadowheart's grip on his arm to steady him, the sudden surge of heat from an abortive move from Karlach stopped at the last minute. But then it's over. Omeluum's hands fall back to its sides and it looks at Hector with keen curiosity.

"This is most unusual," it says, and Hector can hear a deep intellectual eagerness in its resonant mental voice. "The incubation period should be complete, as should your transformation. But the larva is infused with strange magic. It appears to be in some sort of stasis."

This tracks with what they've heard before. Hector straightens up slowly, rubs at his temple, feeling the parasite begin to settle back into dormancy with a few remaining wriggles. "What happens if that stasis goes away?" he asks slowly.

"I can only theorize," Omeluum says placidly. "But I suspect your transformation would be both agonizing and instantaneous."

"I thought it was always agonizing, Omeluum," Blurg, the hobgoblin, puts in from behind him.

"Well, yes," Omeluum agrees. "But that wasn't my point."

Hector feels mildly ill. Every time they have someone investigate this thing, the image of the situation feels slightly worse. "Can you extract the tadpole?" he asks.

"No," Omeluum says bluntly. "It appears to be shielded from physical and magical influence. And even without the shield, the extraction would involve severe cranial trauma."

Oh. "That doesn't sound ideal," Hector says weakly.

"It is not ideal," Omeluum agrees. "The process would surely kill you. But not to worry. Should you transform, I will happily perform a new examination."

Hector looks at it closely for a moment. There is a deadpan note to the creature's mental voice that feels almost like black humor. He hadn't known mind flayers could joke.

He goes on to tell Omeluum and Blurg a little about the ship that kidnapped them and brought them here. Omeluum seems interested in this as well. "A nautiloid? Fascinating. I have never set foot on one myself. They were our warships during the greatest eras of the Illithid Empire. We ruled the entire Astral Plane from their decks. The design was lost when the gith rebelled and ended our dominion."

All of this has been interesting, but not particularly helpful. Hector starts to turn away - but Omeluum has an idea before he leaves.

"There may be a way to bypass that stasis. There are many alchemical substances that can influence the mind."

This doesn't seem like a great idea to Hector. "Isn't the stasis why the tadpole hasn't killed me yet?"

"I do not intend to shatter its protection," Omeluum says. "I need only bypass the interference that prevents me from communicating with the larva."

"Bypass?" Hector says cautiously. "What kind of alchemy are we talking about?"

"A tincture distilled from a collection of rare mushooms. They have subtle psionic influence. I would require a fresh tongue of madness and timmask spores. But be warned - in their natural state, both of these mushrooms can be quite dangerous. Timmasks cause confusion in those that approach them. The tongue is...self-explanatory."

In a horrific sort of way, it feels like he is a little boy again, discussing potions with the herbalist back at the monastery and bringing him the plants he gathered while running about the hills nearby. "I think I already have what you're looking for," he says - and indeed in their journeys he has already gathered bits of both mushrooms.

Omeluum eyes the samples he offers and nods slightly. "These are fine specimens. It will only take me a moment to brew them to proper potency."

Narrator: Omeluum turns away to prepare the potion, lost in its own musings.

"You must drink the entire draught. I can make no promises as to its taste."

Hector squints at the slightly smoking potion vial Omeluum hands to him. "What exactly is this going to do to me?"

"It will lower the psionic defenses around the larva. If I cannot remove it, I may still be able to tell you more about its origin."

(The insight check that Hector just biffed at this point is mildly concerning.)

Hector stares at the potion again for a long moment, then glances towards the others behind him. Karlach gives him a slight nod, and Gale is watching the proceedings with intense interest. Shadowheart's expression is unreadable.

Drink the potion.

Narrator: [CONSTITUTION] The potion is disgusting beyond description. The only mercy is that it goes down quickly.

Omeluum nods approvingly. "Not a drop left. Very good. As the potion influences your mind, you may find yourself acting irrationally. Try and stay focused."

Hector feels bile climbing into his mouth as he dry heaves, trying to keep the potion down. Every muscle in his body is tense as he concentrates through a sudden wave of dizziness.

Narrator: The world loses its edges, its finer boundaries. You are fluid, but trapped, like a creature suspended in amber.

[MONK][SAVING THROW] Use meditation to clear your mind.

Narrator: Drawing on a lifetime of practice, you center yourself. Your body is an anchor, implacable and calm. The tadpole spasms, seizes. It's fighting the potion even harder than you are. Fear pierces through your mind like knives of ice. The parasite digs deeper, as if it means to hollow out your skull.

Hector lets out a moan of terror and pain, falling to his knees, clutching at his skull. An inarticulate prayer crosses his lips, calling to Selune for aid, for comfort, instinctually.

[CLERIC][SAVING THROW] Call to your god for protection.

Narrator: The cold blades lose their edge. You are stalwart, turning that tide of fear against itself. The parasite swells with power - more power than you have ever felt before. It surges and twists, lashing out against that which would dare to intrude.

Dimly, Hector can hear Omeluum cry out in pain. The mind flayer staggers back as if struck. The agony in his head is overwhelming. And then...it begins to fade.

Narrator: The parasite in your mind quiets, pleased with itself.

For a long moment there is silence, Hector and Omeluum both breathing heavily, the others looking on with concern and fear. Finally Hector looks up and finds the mind flayer looking at him with an expression that is distinctly unnerved even in the inhuman face.

"That larva is like nothing I have ever observed before," it says, somewhat unsteadily. "Its power is...unsettling."

"You were supposed to make it weaker, not stronger!" Hector rasps out, staggering up to his feet again and swaying.

"You have my deepest apologies," Omeluum says, and though its voice is still placid, Hector can hear the regret in it. "The larva did not care for my intentions."

Hector closes his eyes, tries again to find the equilibrium that served him against the tadpole itself. To let the anger and fear go, or at least return to its usual simmer in the back of his mind. "So I went through all this and the tadpole's still lodged in my brain?" he asks evenly.

Omeluum did not have a particularly good answer at this point, though he was willing to sell us a ring of mind-shielding for a fairly reasonable price. I actually feel a little bad taking it since he said it was his protection against Elder Brains, but he's a smart cookie and presumably wouldn't offer it if he didn't have any other options.

Shadowheart and Omeluum both have rather uninspiring comments to end the conversation.

Shadowheart's is sardonic. "That thing better work. If it doesn't...I doubt you'll be in any position to complain."

Omeluum's is ominous. "Of course, the larva remains. Be ever-vigilant of its growth."

[alizjay]

Easter Feelings

Next Sunday is Easter...the worst day of the year. I'm reminded of the beliefs that I used to hold so dear. It was the day that always magnified the evidence of deceit because instead of just plain worship, they all go above and beyond to welcome and greet all the potential new members that appear through their doors. The music has to be just right so they'll feel that longing in their souls. 

Of all the days to be authentic and real and full of love, you would think that Easter Sunday would be but instead they just enjoy feeling like they're above all the poor desperate people all searching for meaning but all they receive is advice about cleaning if they decide to visit again the next Sunday, “Oh honey we really don't love you if you can't donate money.” 

As a child, my brothers and I were the only kids that were forced to show up…for the sunrise Easter service that we shared with the other church in town…whose pastor’s kids were not forced to attend because he had a “worldly wife” who didn't force her kids to drown in the muck and mire of churchy strife. Unlike my mother, she had a career and her children had bad attitudes and started drinking beer when they became teenagers so this guy's wife was a failure cause she got a divorce and escaped all the haters. My mom would just bash her although she secretly envied her. She had the guts to get away from the preacher's wife life. 

But back to the point about hearing the resurrection story after the good Friday service just a couple days before. Or the Candlelight service every christmas eve full of brainwashed people who are tricked into belief… cause when u raise your kid in church, they really don't have any choice but to accept what they've been told because that's all they ever know. And they are told that anything outside of this tight circle is from hell and they must spank their sinful children so god can “wash them white as snow.” 

2020 was the worst, but at the same time was the best…my first Easter Sunday that I didn't have to stress about a new dress. We just watched a service on Facebook live from the comfort of the sofa wearing jammies and drinking coffee without pasting smiles on our faces…my kids felt free and I felt relaxed and my husband could doze off without me fearing a verbal attack of harsh judgment and stupid peer pressure to dress my children to the nines…for once, no expectations for them to act like robots and perfectly mind…no one telling them that they're evil and to ignore their hearts’ desire, no one making them have anxiety about some future lake of fire. No more flashbacks from my childhood of being forced to wear a dress. I felt so gross feeling my legs touch together. I wish I could just be free to look like a mess. 

But that was then and this is now, who would've thought that perfect-acting preachers daughter would grow up to break her vow, that she made at age eleven to avoid the terrors of her dad…I thought it was a fear of hell but really I was just tired of my daddy always being mad…mad at me for not understanding math and for forgetting everything that I was asked to do, like a permission slip for a stupid field trip or my shoes and clothes for PE, for not studying my spelling words and for spacing out in class and bringing home a report card with a D…in science cause I hated the teacher. He was really fucking mean. He made my best friend feel stupid and told dumb blonde jokes and made fun of us girls who were grossed out when dissecting. But really a part of my aversion to him was probably the mustache that could've used a good trim. It looked just like daddy's mustache from back when I was five during the worst of his abuse, when I spaced out to survive. 

So Hoppy Easter, fellow heathens. What shall we do on Sunday? We are sleeping in, making homemade pizza, and avoiding social media all day…I don't want to see any “He is risen” memes or pictures of children cuddling live baby lambs. I'm not afraid of going to hell or eternal damnation, but please please please PLEASE don't you dare tell my dad!!! 

[asphaltvalkyrie]

Baldur's Gate 3 OC Brainrot

I'm currently starting Act II and having a grand old time. I came into the game with little knowledge of its plot or characters, though I was familiar with Faerun due to having played in two D&D 3.5e Forgotten Realms campaigns in college.

I made a wood elf Ranger named Alsvid with the intent of having him be a reincarnation of my Ranger from my Ragnarok Online days, which were about 15 years ago (!!!) but things went... very differently.  

My RO Ranger was a handsome, pale-skinned, soft-spoken sort with social anxiety and a low self-image, who was slow to open up to people due to military-related PTSD. He was also aro/ace, though he had several close platonic friends.

I started with a similar face, hairstyle and eye color, but then things got a little weird. I'm playing on my partner's PC because he's the one who owns the game, and its graphics card is just barely up to running it. So, I turned up the maturity sliders and freckles and makeup and whatnot just to give his face a bit more depth since most of the detail would be lost.  It looked like most of my tweaks did nothing in the character creation menu, but when I got to the actual game I realized they did EVERYTHING. So cute anime boy trashed his skin and now looked like an old rock star - I'll post a pic of him once I can get one over to my own PC. Also I had him try the penises on like hats until I found one with just the right amount of pubes. 

Then I started to meet the party members, and I found the more shy and aloof dialogue options very unsatisfying  because I really liked all these people and wanted to know as much about them as possible. So I started picking the dialogue options that I thought they wanted to hear were the friendliest, most considerate ones possible.

Bitchy, condescending vampire who tried to bite me in my sleep because he's starving and feels sick?  Sure, think of my blood as your bowl of warm chicken soup and I hope you feel better!

Secretive, distrustful cleric of an evil goddess with a powerful macguffin that she refuses to talk about? Religious trauma, amirite? I'm here if you need to talk, no judgment!

Pretentious pedant of a Wizard who might accidentally blow up an entire city if he doesn't get expensive magic items? Well, I'd better get you a hell of a nice birthday present!

Foul-mouthed hell soldier with a flaming engine in her chest that burns anyone who touches her to ash? I'm just so sorry I can't give you a big hug. 

Cocky, self-important Warlock who made a deal with a devil and is now whining about having to suffer for it? Don't be sad friend, you did it for all the right reasons.

Volatile, humorless Fighter who clings to her callous and cruel warrior culture at the expense of all her relationships? Your queen would be so proud if she could see you now!

So, the majestic lone wolf became a happy, bouncy golden retriever slobbering on everyone. And speaking of slobbering - I threw the ace part out the window for much the same reasons as I threw out the social anxiety. I thought I might romance Gale since that scene where he helps your character tap into The Weave was utterly charming, but then I recruited Karlach.  She quickly became my BFF because gigantic, outgoing,  foul-mouthed ladies are the best, but I was still on the Gale train. Then one night my boy was in camp and she sat down next to him and said she wanted to "ride him until she saw stars" and I just... can't say no to that. Haven't gotten to the point where she can touch him yet, but all the innuendo has been delicious and I look forward to her snapping him in half like the twig he is instead of just incinerating him like... well, the twig he is.

And now I want to write him a backstory. That said, this game's a lot more elaborate than my usual fare and I was afraid of sucking out loud, so I picked my class features and feats and whatnot based on utility and not for RP reasons. Its gonna be fun working backwards to justify them.

[cannotfriendship]

diary of a terrible friend who is struggling in trying do better

today i feel like everyone, well, maybe not hates me, but doesn't really find me worthy of being friends with. i feel it so intensely. and it's true. nobody really likes me. i don't have that many friends on socials, and i believe a few people who watch my stories either do it out of politeness or looking for gossip, because i used to overshare on main. i think i haven't really got it under control, but it's a little better now. not enough, but not as bad as it used to be. but still not enough.

some people have trouble controlling themselves from oversharing, but they have friends, because they're kind, or at least know how to be a good friend to their friends. i used to subtweet all the time. now i understand that it made my friends feel like walking on eggshells around me. it's too late to change my image in their minds. they will never trust me with anything even though i'm much less judgmental now. i don't just stop saying my judgment out loud, i really don't have any ill judgments against my friends now. i feel so sad to realize that they put their guards on when they're around me. i used to not realize that at all, because i was a bad friend who had no idea that they're a bad friend. now i'm still so bad at being a good friend, and in every instance of failure to be a good friend, i realize it only seconds after it happened, after i said something wrong, after i didn't do what i was supposed to do at a given situation, and it always makes me want to disappear. i used to not be able to tell how i made people feel, now i'm better at understanding how people feel, i'm even a better observer than some people when i'm not actively involved in a scene. but i still don't know how to act accordingly. i keep making mistakes and some days i think i'm beyond saving.

in many phases of my life, friends only hang out with me because of the things i know. at school i was one of the smartest person. but my personality is so terrible that my peers only approached me for help with their studies. some hung out with me because they too didn't have friends. today it still feels like that. i think my friends only follows me on socials because i sometimes share good stuff i found on the internet they otherwise will never know about. then i make it a habit to gatekeep the best stuff, because i'm so afraid that my friends who find something through me will share it with their other friends and enjoy it together without including me. now i realize how pathetic i am for doing that.

i keep losing friends lately. it's an age thing too, but in my case it happens at an alarming rate. i do have one good friend who still stays friends with me for more than a decade. she's a really good person, kind, lovely, interesting. unlike past friends that only hung out with me because they're also friendless, she has a lot of friends, and yet she never neglects me. i don't know why i deserve her. and sometimes, often times, i am really worried i'd lose her too eventually. she lives far away from me which i think is one reason she still finds being friends with me bearable. i nearly messed up recently but i was able to turn it around. if i hurt her i will never be able to forgive myself. sometimes i feel bad for her because i only have her and she's the only one who has to put up with all my crap. i try not to make her carry all my weight, it's relatively easy since we don't meet in person on a daily basis. but then i'm friendless where i live. i'm really lonely and my mental health has been really bad.

at the end of the day, my motivation to get better at this is still selfish. i want company. i want to be part of something. i want to have a healthy social life because it's good for my well-being. i want to not look pathetic. i know maybe i should start with wanting to make someone else's day better, but it's hard for me to think of other people before myself when it counts, i guess it's because i have so many unmet needs. it's starting to look like a vicious cycle.

previously, i tweeted my thoughts and concern about my friendship struggles, but it's so embarrassing when i think about it. imagine friends who aren't really rooting for me read that i struggle making and keeping friends. i think it also makes my friends uncomfortable, because the things i talk about sometimes come from an interaction i had with them, and although i try to focus on the phenomenon, not the people involved, they don't necessarily understand that, they'd think it's a subtweet at them, and that's the last thing i want. so i'll use this blog instead. it also makes me feel less pressured to say everything eloquently. i realize this is messy and some parts don't really say exactly what i mean, but it's anon so i shouldn't worry too much of being misunderstood.

please tell me things will get better.