#she likes intruding... for a reason she doesn't even remember

[gainprincess]

"It won't. She's like a hog, so more slop for the trough is just the norm."

[totheidiot]

i hate that the solar eclipse just now serves as a reminder that nobody loves me.

[lovely-p-issues]

Calypso put the new flowers in the vase.

It didn't matter how much water she poured in or how often she changed the plants - the flowers always wilted after a few hours and nothing of her magic could prevent that. She didn't understand that. Just like she didn't understand a lot of things that had happened since her Beloved had shown up on her island.

The late dinner was slowly cooling, the smell wafted throughout the house and the last wisps of steam were disappearing somewhere in the air. She was used to waiting for him. To waiting for him to turn up in her bed at night, for him to join her in the warm springs of the island and rest in her embrace, for him to give up those childish dreams of Ithaca and burn all those tools he was trying to hide from her.

She had waited so long. She could have waited a little longer.

‘Oh darling, this looks just amazing.’

It wasn't Odysseus' voice. Odysseus never sounded so cheerful.

She turned and clenched her fist, and the candles in the room flickered.

At the head of the table, where she usually seated Odysseus, sat a strange man.

No, not a man.

A god, smiling at her with his teeth bared. He sprawled comfortably in a chair, holding a chalice in his hand, Odysseus' chalice, into which she had not yet had time to pour wine. However, the intruder seemed not to mind as he took a sip from it without taking his eyes off her. In his other hand he held a strange staff, entwined with two snakes. He rotated it in his hand, as if slightly bored.

‘This place is not for you, Hermes,’ Calypso growled, and the candles went out completely.

She noticed with anger that the Lilies of the Valley, which only an hour ago had tempted her with their fragrance in the meadow, had begun to bow to the ground. The petals were covered in spots.

The Messenger of the Gods only laughed heartily. Something about that joy made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. He waved the Caduceus, and the candles lit up again, but this time with a rosy glow. She gritted her teeth.

‘So you remember me? I shouldn't be surprised, I can make an impression, after all I am-’

‘Uninvited. And unwelcome.’

‘Funny, I don't recall you being bothered by not being invited when the waves tossed a certain wanderer onto the shore.’

She turned.

‘I enjoy his company.’

She had work to do. She placed the pot over the hearth.

‘I don't doubt it, darling. Tell me, though, does he enjoy yours?’

The wind wailed and hit the shutters. Out of the corner of her eye, Calypso noticed that the petals of the buttercups had fallen on the table. She had to restrain herself from shouting.

‘He will learn to enjoy it. I have time, all the time in the world. His wife cannot say the same. Even his son will eventually turn to dust. And he will finally be able to move on.’

'Ah, so you put your trust in the workings of Chronos, the god of time. A touching method, mortals claim, but even they can tell the difference between it and a vain hope. How long has it been, darling? Seven years, if I count correctly?'

She slammed her hands on the table, glancing at him over her shoulder.

‘Oh, please, what is seven years?’

‘For us?’ waved the Caduceus between them. ‘Nothing. For them?’ he waved his hand towards the window. ‘It's a bit more complicated.’

‘Why do you care? Why couldn't you fly over my island without looking back, like you always do?’

‘For many reasons. If only for the fact that, as you know, I am the god of travellers. What kind of a patron would I be if I didn't make sure that such a determined man didn't make it home?’

‘He is home.’

Although Hermes took a compassionate tone, his face remained sullen.

‘A lie doesn't suit your eyes, darling.’

She clenched her fists and furrowed her forehead.

‘I won't let you-’

Hermes was no longer sitting behind the table. He was hovering over her, and his eyes, though hidden by the shadow of his helmet, glittered with rage.

‘You will let me speak, for as the Messenger of the Gods, I speak not only with my voice, but also with the voice of Zeus, the King on Olympus. You will let Odysseus go. You will end his torment. You will let him sail home. You will give him everything he needs for the journey. And then you will come back here and learn to live without him.’

Calypso didn't think she could still be afraid of anything after all these years. She took a step closer and raised her head so that their noses nearly touched.

‘He's going to die.’

Hermes tilted his head.

‘Let me worry about that, darling.’

His voice was cheerful again.

He moved away from her and began to play with the dried flowers.

She stood in silence, afraid that if she opened her mouth she would start to cry. Finally, she quieted the storm in her chest.

‘What if I convince him?’ she looked at the god, a challenge burning in her eyes. ‘What if he decides to stay?’

‘Then I will be more than impressed, darling, even as a god whose one of his myriad talents is deft eloquence.’

Hermes moved closer to her. In his hands he held a garland braided with petunias, monkshoods and yellow carnations. Fatal was a crown for the queen of Ogygia.

She had not brought those flowers. She took one last look past the set table and the cold food. The only flowers she had brought herself that had not fallen from their strength were yellow roses, the scent of which now made her choke.

Hermes adorned her head with a garland in the gentlest of motions.

‘Go on, Calypso. I shall watch.’

The wings rustled and Calypso was alone. Again.

___

I hope you enjoyed a little dangerous Hermes c:

[citrustan]

i see u are taking drabble requests!! could i very gently very nicely ask to plz have a yoongi x reader drabble? it can be angsty fluffy or smutty i just rlly miss yoongi, aaand thank u in advance!!

thanks! i will choose all three (barely-there smut bec i just need to get comfortable w it through practice)

love-daze (myg)

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: unrequited love?, friends to ?

warnings: methinks this can be considered infidelity but not really?? as for the characters, all's open to interpretation. :p unedited. this is raw raw ok.

"Should I stop?" You whisper, unwrapping your arms from around him.

After a few beats, still zoned-out, Yoongi moans in disapproval, "No, keep going, this is fine."

He adjusts you on his lap and tilts his head back.

Still unsure, you go back to placing soft kisses all over his neck. Desperate to make Yoongi happy, you put a little more energy into it as you begin to gently grind on him.

Occasional whimpers and sighs float around the cold room. While that would seem to be enough to send you over the moon, it doesn't seem to help you this time.

"Yoongi..." You tiredly sigh.

You want to make Yoongi feel good, but at this point, you know he's too distracted.

Thinking of her.

And you find that unfair. He was the one who called you after all. Because he knew you'd always be around. Only for him.

You were never shy about your feelings for Yoongi, so when you couldn't get him to reciprocate romantically, you figured you'd give it a shot anyway and offered yourself for him to use whenever he wanted, for whatever he wanted.

Yoongi was intrigued.

He seemingly never did end up needing you though.

Until now.

Two hours ago, Yoongi came over to tell you how his girlfriend had turned down his marriage proposal a few days ago.

One hour ago, you tried to talk him into giving her more space.

Thirty minutes ago, he ended up calling her anyway, which in turn made her distance herself even more, telling him to not call her again.

And now, Yoongi has you naked, on his lap, trying to make himself forget about everything--- his girlfriend, her rejection, his humiliation, their sadness... just all of it.

Yoongi wanted to hurt her, too. His own pleasure is just a bonus. He knew that if she ever caught wind of you and him, it'd destroy her.

For some reason unknown to Yoongi (and you), Sera always had been insecure about you. Not that Yoongi gave her any reason to be, even offering to seize all contact with you.

You had cried for days when you accidentally heard about it through one of your mutuals. Yet, you understood, and continued to love him silently while distancing yourself from the couple.

Yes, you loved him but you would never try to steal his happiness away or break up a relationship.

Both Sera and Yoongi noticed the lack of your presence in their lives.

During that short period, she also observed how Yoongi seemed moodier and a little more disengaged in general.

For a while, Sera thought she might've just been a masochist or something because what other reason did she have to refuse Yoongi's offer?

She felt guilty because she didn't want to be the kind of woman who stopped her faithful boyfriend from having friends. She felt guilty because she had always known about your interest in him but had decided to pursue him anyway.

She felt guilty when she saw the look on your face when she was first introduced as Yoongi's girlfriend. She remembers how defeated and sad you were. One would expect jealousy, or anger, or even hatred, but you were always cordial with her.

She felt guilty when he asked her her hand in marriage because it came out of nowhere, and she knew it was Yoongi's attempt to salvage what was left of them.

It's probably karma, she thinks. Sera felt like an intruder in your lives even though she was the girlfriend. Even though Yoongi never really looked at you in a way she would be worried about, she just... felt something.

Which is why Sera isn't surprised to see Yoongi at your place now. She saw it on your Instagram story, but it was deleted almost immediately.

She doesn't know why Yoongi never let you in, and selfishly hadn't cared.

All she could do now was watch the man she loves be with someone else. As you had done.

Yoongi finally looks you in the eye, expectantly, brows somewhat raised.

Again, you ask, "Are you really, really sure you want this?"

Yoongi sees the loving look on your face and his breath hitches. You didn't deserve this.

The long pause answered all your questions.

You don't know why you're disappointed, you had offered yourself to him. It was your choice.

Sadly, giving him a tight-lipped smile, you sigh.

Before you could speak, he tilts your head towards his own, making your foreheads touch.

You gulp, afraid of what he might say.

With a shaky voice, he rubs his thumb on your cheek, "I'm sorry." - "For what?"

"_____, you deserve to be treated with respect. And, I'm sorry I failed to."

"Yoongi... I'm not offended... I told you, I'm okay with this." You pout, confused.

"Exactly. You shouldn't be. I won't take advantage of you like this." Yoongi is stern. Mostly speaking to himself.

But you don't care, "What if I want to be taken advantage of?"

"_____..." He's breathless.

"Yoonie... I can feel you. I want to be used. I want you so bad. I always have." You resume grinding on him, "You want me so bad. I know you care about me, Yoonie."

He firmly places his hands on your waist. You expect him to grab your cute butt, but instead, he holds you in place, "_____. Not like this. We're too... vulnerable. This is new. Let's not rush into anything."

At that, you instantly snap out of your love-daze.

What did he mean by 'this'? Let's not rush into 'anything'?

Your face was expressive, making him smile a little. You then lift yourself off of him.

Yoongi's forcing himself not to ogle your tits or the string of your sticky wetness detaching from his trousers as you moved to sit next to him.

The two of you have a lot to heal through.

Yoongi stood up from your couch to retrieve your crocheted throw which he then uses to swaddle you. You stare up at him with big eyes as he wrapped the material around you, making him playfully scoff.

Yoongi kneels in front of you, "I don't know how to thank you for being there for me, _____." He has a solemn face.

Meekly, you suggest, "We can just... talk if you'd like."

Placing a hand atop your own, he softly smiles, "I'd love that, _____."

note: ok like ack-chu-ally idk what this turned into i just wanted to write like a 100 word thing about reader patiently waiting for yoongi to realise his feelings for her

But I Just Couldn't STop going on and im curious to see the response to this because I think I hate it kinda

[delaber]

Side Effects (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: Not remembering what falling in love feels like, Bucky thinks the side effects of the serum have finally caught up with him.

Words: 2K

Just another fluffy fluffshot 💕 (does contain 18+ only themes)

It's a weird feeling, he can't let go of it. Definitely something he hasn't felt for quite some time. Eighty years maybe, perhaps longer - if ever.

At first, he thinks he's finally feeling some delayed side effects of the serum, the way his heart constantly hammers in his chest for absolutely no reason, how the blood rushes past his ears every time he sits down for dinner and immediately loses his appetite, how he's started downright fumbling with his switchblade during training sessions, the constant buzzing in his brain so he can't concentrate at all.

He's asked Steve about it, but he's not feeling anything out of the ordinary, and now, full of regret, Bucky cannot escape the constant worried glances even though he has assured his best friend repeatedly that nothing's wrong.

...at least he doesn't think so.

Then comes the weird behaviour from Wanda who starts smiling at him more and more mysteriously, constantly fixing him very specific seats at the dinner table, inviting him out for all sorts of team-evenings even though she damn well knows he won't participate. And to Bucky's annoyance, it doesn't take Sam long before he too picks up on it and starts sending him the same type of irritating looks.

He starts wondering if the side effects make him look… different? Loopy? As goddamn weird as he feels? Maybe they're silently worried he's losing his marbles too? He reckons he could just ask them what the fuck is going on, but he really doesn't want to give Sam the satisfaction. So, he ignores them as much as he can, silently fearing what side effect might show its ugly face next.

He keeps mostly to himself for a few days - and it seems to make him feel a little bit better - but when Steve urges him to come down for movie-night, he knows he must say yes so he won't arouse even more suspicion with his best friend. So Bucky reluctantly accepts.

It works. Steve looks bright and happy as Wanda places Bucky on the couch between you and Steve, and even Bucky must admit, that he could have been assigned a worse seat. For once, he's actually happy he came out for movie-night as he quietly agrees with your whispered ramblings about what you find dumb with the movie that Wanda picked, but when Natasha shushes you and you laugh and lean close to him, popcorn-stuffed mouth and all, the next weird side effect comes to life.

You have your full attention turned on him and suddenly Bucky feels his facial muscles contract and the skin around his eyes crinkle as he involuntarily bares his teeth in... a smile? Oh God, a genuinely happy smile accompanied by a low, dopey chuckle. He almost scares himself, and he's happy that the only person that can make out his goofy expression in the dark is you, and that you don't make a fuss about it but just smile even brighter as you interlock your arm with his, face slowly turning back to the screen. It makes his heart pound so wildly that he can't even hear the sound effects of the fighting scene over the fear that he's about to go into cardiac arrest.

Firmly believing that he's definitely losing it now, he retreats to his room and shuts the door close behind him, sending a confused Steve away when he stops by a few hours later.

As he lies alone in the dark, he can't stop thinking about your soft hands on his tainted skin no matter how hard he tries to concentrate on anything else. It makes his heart squeeze tight and ease up at the same time, and he's not sure if he likes it or not, but at least he doesn't feel like he's having a heart attack anymore.

He goes back to barricading himself in his room, worrying about his declining sanity to such an extent that the intruding thoughts invite nightmare after nightmare to occupy his already rattled mind. For a few days, it seems to go around in an endless loop of fear and frustration, but then, one morning, while he's doing his breathing exercises in the bathroom mirror, the all-consuming nightmare is easily pushed away by the abrupt realisation that he looks like shit.

Weird, he can't even remember the last time he cared as much as a ripe fig about what he looked like, but now he suddenly cannot believe he's kept his hair this greasy and unkempt for so long. He looks older, less attractive, a shadow of the charming man he'd once been, so with new-found purpose to start looking just half-decent again, he quickly undresses and jumps in the shower, borrowing half a tube of Steve's 3-in-1 shampoo, nightmare already long forgotten.

The newly washed, weirdly voluminous mop on top of his head makes Sam laugh annoyingly loud, and he calls Bucky Goldilocks for days.

It takes everything inside him to not sock Sam in the kisser, and he's on the verge of vowing to never lather his stupid hair with shampoo again, but one morning while he's sitting alone at the kitchen counter drinking his morning coffee, Bucky feels a small hand slowly rake its tiny fingers through his thick strands of unfamiliarly soft hair. With electricity coursing through his veins, he thinks to himself that Sam can stick it. That hearing you say he looks good while feeling your tiny fingers on top of his scalp is worth every Goldilocks-comment from Sam. So he starts washing his hair every other day, hoping to dear God that you'll do it again. He stops wearing his cap inside, and he makes sure to always put on a clean shirt. Suddenly, it's important to him to look presentable, though he cannot for the life in him figure out why.

For several weeks, it's a mystery, a totally weird obsession that's gnawing little holes in the cortex of his brain, driving him up the wall, until one morning he wakes up from the loveliest dream he's ever had. Still half-asleep, he hasn't been paying the dull tightness between his legs much attention until he accidentally brushes his hand over the area just to feel a bulge much more prominent than usual.

Immediately, his eyelids shoot up, and he grows dizzy from the quick awakening as he stares down at the unfamiliar sight that he honestly hadn't expected to ever see again. Not believing neither the feeling against his fingertips nor the unbelievable desire to be touched, he has to pinch himself just to make sure he isn't dreaming still, but the bulge in his boxers stays put. Up until that moment he'd otherwise been positive that he would remain broken for good. Not even in his many lonely and sleepless nights had he been able to get as much as a twitch out of his dick, and now he hasn't even done anything, and the erection's just staring straight at him, throbbing, and screaming, and begging to be touched.

Suddenly excited and yearning to feel some much needed release for the first time since 1943, he pushes down the fabric of his boxers and grabs himself by the root, immediately stroking his erection slowly, remembering what it used to be like; touching then stopping, fast then slow, cautious teasing then everything all at once. Anything to prolong the pleasure while thinking of cute, pebbled nipples and pretty, red little mouths.

"Ahh shit," he whispers to himself and lets his shoulders slump back down into the mattress beneath him so he can enjoy properly.

His thumb glides over the tip of his head while vibranium fingers massage his tighter-than-ever balls and his breathing runs uncontrolled at the sensation - and that's when it happens.

A spark! The beginning of a thought - a fantasy really - a set of familiar, wet lips wrapped tightly around him.

"Ah!" He's gasping with spit gathering at the corners of his mouth while thinking of you. Thinking of tiny fingers rolling his balls, running through his hair. Of hands touched to his elbow and the smell of popcorn hanging thickly in the air.

Lost in the feeling, he imagines the scent of your perfume, your cute little laugh, your kind nature, how you make him want to be a better man.

He fantasises about undressing you while holding you close to his chest. About lying you down on his mattress while showering the valley between your breasts with sensual kisses. About you pulling him so close he slides deep inside your inviting heat while you scratch at his back, and when he fantasises about the feeling of you orgasming around him and moaning his name in his ear, he lets go and violently comes all over his stomach and chest.

He stares at the ceiling for a while.

What the fuck was that all about? he contemplates when he's down from his high again, painfully aware that the mere thought of you just made him cum for the first time in nearly seventy-five years. Yet, he still cannot piece together the puzzle.

He sees you half an hour later, spatula perched on top of the kitchen counter as you flip a pancake using just the motion of the pan. You look excited to see him and you smile brightly, breathing his name so sweetly that the familiar side effect of his insides squirming comes to life.

…Funny, now that he thinks about it, the side effects started showing up around the same time as you did. The sweating, the heart pumping, the smiling, all the weird symptoms started the minute you sat down next to him and told him your name.

It dawns on him that it has continued to happen like that every time you're near. Every time his name spills from your lips. Every time you smile. His pumping heart doesn't even care if the smile is directed at someone else, it still skips a few beats. And he realises that for three months, he has been following you around like a puppy dog, doing everything he possibly can to get close to you.

He has told Tony Stark himself to fuck off when you were trying to gain the attention of the room. He has sat down next to you every night at dinner, listening so intently to whatever you've had to say that he's forgotten all about eating. He has skirted his eyes over you more times at practice than he's dared counting - more times than he has intended to. He's been lying sleepless at night, wondering what you might think of him - he has even started caring about his hair for crying out loud!

He's been so completely blindsided by his own heart because he's been devoid of any human connection for so long that he'd completely forgotten what this feels like.

Love, that is.

It's different from the love he feels towards Steve, that's more brotherly in nature. This is romantic love, full of the need to kiss, and to hold, and to protect, and to - gulp - fuck!

It's like an ice bucket's been dropped on his head. He cannot believe he hasn't seen it before. He's not sick, he's not dying, he's just completely and utterly in love.

And even Sam has realised?! That's without a doubt the worst part. How's he ever going to admit to that?

It's with heated cheeks and shaking legs that Bucky occupies the seat opposite you at the kitchen counter, quietly complimenting you on the lovely smell of your breakfast. He feels stupid but he has to say something, doesn't he?

An eternity of worried, silent seconds follow, but when you finally put down the pan and look up at him, it's with a smile as if he's hung the stars, and the moon, and the fucking sun itself in the sky.

His heart stops.

And that's when it truly dawns on him. Pulse suddenly springing back to life and pounding faster than ever before, he knows what he has to do. He has to make you his.

[five-one-two-station]

Everybody should have their own fun, and this isn't trying to harsh anybody's buzz, but I find the impulse to make your own cutesy/badass Replika oc doing funny or heroic or badass things a little odd. Like, that character you designed as a super badass soldier, or well-armed and armored steely eyed cop type... who would they have been built to fight or police exactly? Remember who all those guns and weapons were intended for use on?

I know we're all sick of discourse over who "gets" the game, and I'm by no means scolding anybody for something that harmless, but what's interesting to me is the sense that designing overtly "cool" Replika personas and OCs, complete with the propaganda poster style imagery, feels a little...

I mean, bluntly, it's like the in-world propaganda worked, unironically, on some level, for many people. Kolibris aren't scary, they're whimsical and fun! Storches aren't notably cruel enforcers and chain gang drivers, they're Protektors! Falke isn't a camp commandant, she's a beautiful angel!

The Replikas aren't cool and heroic figures in the reality of the game. They're the carefully crafted organs of a system of control so dreadful it could do what it did to Elster and Ariane. They're victims to that system themselves too, sure - and humanising them is a nuanced and valuable observation of how totalitarian regimes maintain themselves - but that doesn't negate the fact they're also the ones who operate, enforce and perpetuate it, a big part of what the game knows and communicates about such societies. It's notable that the game makes it clear few, if any, of the Replikas actually buy into the Nation as an ideal at all - they enforce it no less pitilessly anyway, incapable or unsafe to imagine anything else.

Their affectations, pasttimes, trinkets, and even affections for each other, all serve to draw a stark contrast to how callously they regard the gestalts they keep suppressed. Their disposability is something they're conscious and fearful of themselves, but fail to recognise as a commonality with the people they brutalise every day, their business as usual. The only grief, tragedy or suffering they acknowledge is their own - they have no regard for any such things in the humans they have... well, dehumanised.

But S-23 Sierpinski was such a hellhole for most of its denizens under "normal" conditions that the nightmare it becomes is arguably an improvement; if only because there are fewer people left now to suffer it. There's a dark poetry here - because the place's banal cruelty is "off camera" to us, it's very naturally less real to us than the grief of the crying Eule. It's only natural, too, to forget how grim the Replikas' purposes are when you don't have to see anyone endure the brunt of it.

And isn't that the very same effect a state like the Nation is seeking in the first place, by disappearing people away to such dark little corners to have it done? In our world, no less than that one.

That works like a kind of propaganda too, not being able to see it - a propaganda of hidden things, as powerful as any poster. A space that's been intentionally left blank.

Kolibris are literal thought police; they intrude on people's very minds, interrogating them to death as a matter of course, with hardly a care either way. The various Protektor classes are functionally concentration camp guards and slave drivers. Falke and Adler are overseeing what amounts to a gulag, one so unimaginably awful Ariane preferred to spend years of her life alone in space to the prospect of being sent there, and inevitably worked to death, far underground.

I think there's a reason we never see one of those posters for LSTRs in game. How could we be asked to forgive our own if we ever did?

[itstheghostofmypast]

Transparent Love

Five Hargreeves x F.Reader ft.platonic Ben

Summary: Her past that she had forgotten after coming to the commission, her past that she had forgotten after marrying Five- the mistakes and guilt that she had forced herself to forget, all resurfaced at the worst of times. One thing was for sure, even if you run from your past, it'll catch up to you, in one shape or another.

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word Count: 3.3k

Read Time: 16 min

Requested by: @simpformoonkight

If there was one thing Five Hargreeves was proud of, it was his ability to read people like a book, and his favourite person to read was his wife; from the day he had met her at an Irish bar to the day he had reunited with her in the 60s, not once had she caught him off guard, even the little kiss she had given him in front of his siblings wasn't a surprise for him.

A whimper caught his ear. He glanced up from the newspaper cutouts that Elliot had glued to the wall to find her curled up on the couch, clutching onto the blanket for her dear life. Walking up to her he gently brushes the stray hair out of her face, caressing her cheek, trying to calm her down. He doesn't remember the last time she'd had such a nightmare- well, there was that one time.

The married life did not bring much change to their routine, they'd still go on missions, she'd still choose the comfortable silence, and he'd still be arguing around waiting for her to calm him down, she'd occasionally stress eat and he'd choose to storm off to cool down if the two ever argued, but one thing was clear, the two loved each other no matter what. Due to this very reason, he had believed in the all-transparency policy, sharing everything with her, now, to some extent that meant becoming extremely vulnerable in front of someone and giving an entire list of weaknesses, not that he had many, the point was, for Five Hargreeves, other than Delores, she was someone who he would die for, someone who he'd trust blindly at any given moment of time and space, which is why he assumed she felt the same way. Never keeping anything from him. Or so he thought.

It wasn't until their third anniversary that that belief in transparency somewhat cracked. He had come home early from a mission, and since the two had gone on separate ones, coming home early meant that he could set up her surprise. The well-dressed man opened the main door only to hear something crash, his killer instincts kicking in as he blinked into the living room, spotting her sitting on the floor, hugging her knees, mumbling to herself.

"Y/N! What happened?" his fingers gripped onto her shoulders, jerking her back to reality as she looked up at him, letting out a choked sob, pouncing on him with a death grip of a hug, her face pressing onto his collar as she choked on her sobs.

He remembers sitting there for hours that night, with her weeping in his arms, unfortunately, she never told him what had happened, but had only thanked him, and claimed that her dream was so bad that if he hadn't shown up when he did, she might have done something irrational.

"What's that look mean?" he glanced at the intruder who had come to sit on the opposite couch, a giant mug of coffee in hand.

"What do you want, Klaus?" letting out an exasperated sigh he stared at his brother, the person she had spent most of the 60s with while they were parted. He watched the other one shrug before smirking at Five, "Trouble in paradise?"

"None what so ever." he snapped back earning a chuckle from Klaus who shook his head, "Come on Five, it's plain as day, you have that bitchy look on your face, the one where you're thinking but are perhaps constipated in the process."

"Not a day goes by where I don't want to strangle you Klaus”, sighing he leaned back on the couch, his hand resting on Y/N's head, gently scratching her scalp out of pure habit, it was something that would help both of them calm down.

"Everyone has secrets Five, we" He gestured at him then an invisible ring where he assumed the latter would pick up on the notion of the gesture representing their family, "Of all people should know that."

"We don't have secrets, Klaus"

"Perhaps, or…you just have things you haven't talked about, I mean", reaching for the table he placed his mug down then looked at Five, eyes flickering to her, "Have you told her everything? Like everything everything? Not a single secret?"

Five glanced down at her stirring form then up at Klaus, "No, I don't. Neither does she." with that he had concluded the discussion.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

That was until they came to the new timeline, a mistake, but probably a harmless one. Amidst the uncalled-for battle, she ran into the living room, after helping up Diego, only to stop when a tentacle slammed in front of her before slithering back to its owner, Ben, shit.

"What are you guys like? Did they steal you two from your parents?" he snapped at her only for her to pull out her handy dandy pistol, a.k.a 'Bodyguard'.

"F*ck around and find out." aiming at him she muttered, "I don't wanna do this Ben."

"Sweety, your gremlin and co.  burst in here. We're just taking out the trash." With that he swung another tentacle at her, one she dodged with ease, bouncing off the opposite wall to kick him. He may have been stronger but he wasn't quicker.

"I said I don't wanna do this." she said aiming right at his forehead, "But threaten my husband or his family one more time and I will."

"Husband?"

"Let's go! Move, move, move!" was all Diego yelled, grabbing her and tossing her over his shoulder in the process and running out.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"So, what now?"

That's all she heard before they began bickering, shit, this timeline, this was not what she was expecting, what happened, where did they go wrong- should she have stopped him from meeting up with his father in the past? This was not good, definitely not good, should she tell Five? No- what if there's a way out? Wait, is there? Isn't time supposed to flow as per agenda- at least the beginning and the end, what if-

"Y/N?"

"Huh?" Glancing up from her lap she met with a confused Five, his hand automatically reaching to caress the top of her head, an act Klaus had noticed back in Dallas- a way of his to calm down his wife, much like one would do to a cat.

“What’s wrong?” his words were but a whisper, eyes scanning her, as if reading her every move, the way her breathing was uneven, eyes darting around them, trying to calculate, fingers twitching with anxiety- give her something to eat and it’d be the perfect image of how his wife usually got when she was nervous.

 “I- nothing, I think I just hit my head a little too hard.” With a gentle, yet, assuring smile she, “So, what are we going to do now?”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

With that question she found herself on a sofa, giving Allison and Vanya the room inside, since it did have two beds and the sisters needed some time alone- that and she needed some time alone as well, she needed to think, she needed to process this, to make sure things did not go south, to make sure she had everything under control this time, to make sure she could save him this time- if not Ben, then Five- this was no longer for Ben, this probably wasn’t even the same Ben- but her husband is all that she cared about.

The thought of her husband had her trembling in fear, she was hiding something from him and she didn’t know how long it could go on. She knew she couldn't keep it up for long, it was either her insistent stress eating that would give it away or his usual commendable deductive skills that he'd use to put the puzzle together. Maybe she should tell him, or maybe she should just try to fix this herself- there was no need to increase his burdens.

It was her hunger that led her downstairs, spotting the three brothers as she looked at their approval in silence, wanting to occupy the free seat.

"What are you guys? Barn animals?" Klaus sighed before smiling at his sister-in-law, “Oh, hey there my sweets, are you per se on a stress-eating roll again?” he asked, chin in palm, admiring the way she had filled up her plate more than Luther would.

“S-stress? What no!” clearing her throat she took a sip of her coffee, trying to not start an actual conversation, her original thoughts of asking either Klaus or Diego for some form of assistance went down the drain, much like her confidence.

“You know Ben?” Diego perked up, causing his brothers to pause and look at her, only for her to choke on a slice of bread.

“Stop harassing her.”

Never had she been so glad to see her husband, who sat beside her, gently patting her back and glaring at Deigo, “How the hell would she know Ben anyway?”

It was during their little meal that Five had announced his retirement, looking at her expectantly, as if wanting her to do the same, which she did- though hesitantly.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Initially she had thought of talking to Ben, she was convinced she should too but the moment they had landed in the house, a basic fact had occurred to her- this was the asshole Ben, she was used to the one who had lost everything. But then again, she wasn’t like this back then either, in fact, she was as paranoid and impulsive as Five, perhaps that’s why she fell in love with him, for deep down she missed her old self, the one who could protect her- or perhaps that was just a front, for her to pretend in those dark times, trying to tell herself that she was not afraid and Five was the real deal, he really was never afraid. So, she decided not to say a word, but the only problem was, that her anxiety was starting to pent up to a breaking point.

“Where have you been all day?” Five asked, looking up from the newspaper, his bathrobe replaced with a floral t-shirt and slacks, “Also, why are you on edge? Are your hormones kicking in?”

“What does that even mean?” mumbling she flopped down on the couch next to him, resting her head on his lap, his hand instinctively going to play with her hair, gently caressing her head.

“You horny?”

Clicking her tongue at his question she glared up at him, earning a chuckle in return. It had been long since the two were at peace like this, at least for him, what he did not know was that she was not in peace at all, but only that his presence near her was somewhat calming. She wanted to tell him how this timeline was no better than his own, that and a persistent fact she had somehow stumbled upon began to bother her.

“I’ll understand if you are”, smirking at her he pinched her nose, earning a swat of his hand in return, his hearty laugh echoing in the small room, this was possibly the most domestic the two had been since they travelled back in time.

“Five”.

 Her hushed tone caught his attention, eyes darting to scan her face, her brows furrowed to the slightest degree, so faint that one could barely notice it, but Five just wasn’t anyone. He had noticed her unease ever since they had come to this timeline, how she was eating in proportions larger than Luther’s, how she was more on edge, quieter, he would’ve been blind if he hadn’t noticed it, but he respected her boundaries, for he truly believed that the two had no secrets. Sure, she had always been closed off, but he knew for a fact that she’d never keep anything from him.

“What’s the matter?” he responded with a tone as quiet as hers, earning a small smile.

“I love you, Five.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Five, listen to me, I swear I wanted to tell you but-“

“BUT WHAT?” his voice boomed in the corridor, causing her to flinch, and Klaus who was behind her cleared his throat, “Five, buddy, just hear us out.”

“Shut up Klaus, I am…” sighing he ran his hand through his hair, wanting to rip it out, “I- why would you take his side when the future I said let it happen, when I said let it happen.” She stared at him in disbelief, she knew this was out of his control, but she had never imagined for it to get this out of hand.

“Five, I need you to calm down and listen-

“I AM CALM!”

“BECAUSE I CAN’T LOSE EVERYONE I LOVE AGAIN!”

“Again…” frowning at the statement he looked at her, then glanced at Klaus who shrugged, hand reaching to console the shivering girl, only for her to slap it away, “What do you mean by….Y/N… is this…your timeline?”

With a shaky breath she nodded, trying to walk over to him, only for him to raise his hand and stop her, “I…I need some time.” With that he turned around and walked away, not even listening to her pleading, blinking away when he felt her come closer.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“So, are we gonna talk about what’s going on between you and your husband?” Klaus asked, picking up a glass of wine, no, he picked up hers, her seventh glass of wine and as much as he wanted everyone to enjoy Luther’s wedding, he knew this was not what he wanted for her, or what her brother wanted for his wife, but he was too stubborn to approach her.

“Nope.” With that curt response, she snatched her glass back, “I can’t believe you are willing to die like this.”

“Well, I’m not. You know that, but we got voted out and Five, well, Five is Five, he’s stubborn, arrogant, and annoying but he loves you more than anything.” He smiled softly, taking it back from her as he placed his hand on top of hers, “Go talk to him.”

…

That’s how she finds herself on the rooftop, staring up at the imploding cosmos, soon to be part of it all. Spotting her husband at the other end, sitting on a cushioned seat, staring up at the sky, bottle in hand. Approaching closer she stopped when he turned his head in her direction, an unspoken apology swirling in his eyes, though she knew he had nothing to be sorry for, she knew he had been transparent with her since the moment he had told her, told her how much he loved her, devoting his life to her. Though she had nothing to apologise for as well, what she had hidden was a part of her memory, an experience so foul that she had spent a good amount of time trying to forget it. Sitting on the opposite seat she smiled, “Hey stranger.” Watching him sit up straight, placing the bottle on the table between them, hand reaching for hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, Five, I just, you need to understand how before I met you, before the commission, I was someone different, living a different life, one that ended poorly.”

“Tell me, trust me, I’ll believe and listen to anything you say.”

 She looked at him, admiring his sculpted face, noting the seriousness and love his features held for her, all for her.

“I… it’s a long story, I honestly don’t remember much of it.” Taking in a deep breath she continued, “It began in a blur, well, most of it was a blur, one day everything was normal, the next there were walkers, the undead, then there were groups of survivors, humanity was falling, wars had begun and slowly, the world had begun to wither away. In about a week I had lost everyone I loved, my parents, my siblings, my friends…I was…so alone.”

“How…for how long?” he asked, moving closer to her, which she appreciated, the cold had begun to creep up on her, “About 3 years…alone, I mean, I was fine at first, I mean, I was scared, obviously like any normal teenager, but it was so exhausting, I didn’t know who to be scared of more…the undead, the other groups or the men I just- then I met the Sparrow Academy, we were fine- I mean Ben was an asshole- as usual…but then one day..”

“Ben, we need to leave!” grabbing his hand she dragged him out of the building, he was too shocked to even react, his siblings being torn apart before him- but…they had powers! He had powers and this did not make any sense.

Sitting in front of the makeshift fire, she stared at the burning wood, she had gone numb far too long ago, but for Ben, all of this was new, he was so used to being surrounded by those who could bear him, that his world had shattered. She felt sorry for him, she did, but a twisted part of her was relieved, his instant obnoxious attitude came to a stop. She was tired and scared as it is, but when she saw all the siblings together, she was …jealous. No, she just missed her family, thinking that perhaps if they had any training like all of them did or powers, maybe her family would be alive too.

It didn’t take long for Ben to let her in, perhaps because she was the only one there, the only one who had his back now, the only one who would stay awake and keep watch while he was asleep, the only one who’d make sure he was eating, sometimes give him her rations as well. He would return the favour often, making sure she was warm, wearing extra layers, or that she had enough sleep, staying up and keeping watch. Slowly turned into a cycle of a unique bond, one where they needed to be next to each other, needed to know what the other one was doing.

“Ben, I swear, they are expired.” She hissed, snatching the bag of chips and tossing it away, earning a whine.

“Come on, not everything is expired, plus you can hear the crisp, that means they haven’t gone stale.” He argued, picking up a few batteries for their torches, “Listen, you let me get those chips, and I’ll keep watch tonight.”

“Ben, you’re supposed to keep watch tonight anyway.”

“shit.”

That was her fault though, maybe if she was awake, they could’ve had a chance, and maybe, he would’ve been alive. But just like the day it all began, it all happened so quickly. One moment she finally fell asleep, the next she was shaken awake by Ben. He was yelling, telling her to sit on his bike, the one they’d ride on, going from state to state, city to city, the very bike he had named Jennifer. The last thing he had told her was,

“I’m sorry, I am…thank you for spending your time with me, I’d pick you over my siblings any day.”

“Ben…this Ben?” Five whispered, more to himself than her, hugging her close to him, ugly sobs wracking through her form, causing him to tighten his hold on her, “Come on it's okay, it's over, it's over.”

“I…” pulling back she looked up at him, “I didn’t want to lose you so- so I agreed with your father and I just – forgive me.”

“My love, I…I should be asking you for forgiveness.” He smiled, leaving a gentle peck on the top of her head, “I should have been more patient with you, I had noticed your nightmares, the panic attacks but I…I really couldn’t place them”. Letting out a chuckle he smirked at her, “You’ve always been my favourite riddle, never easy to solve, but so addictive.”

 Smiling up at him, she nodded, not at his stupid statement, but at the thought of them being together forever, or however long they may have left, even if time was crumbling their love wasn’t, it was as pure as the will of an angel and as clear as a crystal- a form of pure, melancholic, transparent love.  

A/N: not only is this centuries late, but Tumblr has had it in for me for the past two days. Nothing was uploading. I hope you like it @simpformoonkight , haven't watched the walking dead, but did some researching.

[dreamingsnowflake2013]

Yi Joo might fight and deny it all she wants, but she is attracted to Do Guk, not only because he is insanely hot, but because he keeps throwing her off her axis and turning her world upside down. She gets to experience so many things for the first time with him - like being welcomed home when she arrives and with a smile to boot, as opposed to being ignored or abused. He probably doesn't even realize because it's something mundane to him, but it's rare and special to her.

The way he knows she would be starving herself until late night and decides to become her personal chef and food taster, to elevate her fears, without putting any pressure or expectations on her to accept. It's such a purely unselfish act, pouring out so much effort and heart into making her feels safe.

There is no doubt now, Seo Do Guk has declared war on Yi Joo's family, naming himself as her general/prince/knight in a shining armour. The first surprise attack - check, now it's time to shore their defences... HE GIVES UP HIS OWN HOUSE AND TURNS IT INTO HER SANCTUARY WHERE SHE CAN ESCAPE AND HIDE FROM HER FAMILY AND ALL HER ENEMIES,...

...and he turns into a giddy puppy when he gives her a tour of the house, I thought I died when he opened the kitchen cupboards he filled with enough packed food to feed a small army. (I mean, if Napoleon had Seo Do Guk, Russians would be speaking French now.)

More like showing her their newlywed den and waiting for her approval. Also, he is such a shamelessly and irresistibly adorable flirt, Yi Joo stands no chance against this charming devil.

However, then he takes her to her room and my soul has left my body, because it's the complete opposite of her room (and even her room from the future). Also, it's definitely NOT following the latest trend since it's everything but monochrome and minimalistic. It's basically a suite with its own bathroom, huge windows, a closet full of furniture and clothes he handpicked for her himself (he literally handpicked everything in the room with her in mind, eager to give her everything she was cheated of) - he has created a safe space for her, a place she can call her own without being spied or intruded on or abused; it's huge, full of colour, and things she loves: an easel, canvas and paints.

Remember how in episode 1, the rich housewives were shocked Yi Joo painted, since her mother had gone out of her way to keep it a secret, but Do Guk is somehow aware of it; another reason he knows more about her than he lets on.

He is no subtle whatsoever at trying to convince her she doesn't need to leave the place ever again, because he will make sure she doesn't lack anything and will give her the moon if she asks for it. Also, when Do Guk says "everything you need is here" and he is standing in the middle of the room so vulnerable, insecure and shy, you just know HE is everything she needs but hasn't realized it yet.

[a-spes]

This is how I imagine what would happen if R decides to propose to Carol — and for once it is really just tooth rooting fluff, I promise there is no hidden angst, just two women deeply in love 🙃

You have been walking back and forth for the past few hours, waiting for the woman to return from her mission. Yet, this time, there was so much in your mind that the motion wasn't enough to soothe your worries.

She doesn't know you are here, and she probably does not expect you to be in her living room because that is the last place you are supposed to be. Damn, you should be on earth, not in a spacecraft landed on a planet which you don't even know the name.

How are you supposed to explain that to her? You definitely can't admit that you have used your skills to track her localisation, and then begged Tony to help you find a way here. You have spent the last few hours thinking about what you are going to tell her, but no words felt right, and you start to worry that she might be angry when she sees you — which would make sense because you literally broke into her ship.

You glance at the door, expecting the woman to barge in at any moment, but it doesn't move. The spacecraft is silent, if not for the sound of your steps and the one of the clock. Everything is still, and the wait starts to get on your nerves —; it is almost midnight, and you have already been here for the past five hours. The truth being that you have no idea when she will be back.

—

By the time she gets back to her ship, it is almost the morning. She can see the sun rising for afar, and she sighs because she doesn't want to think about the fact that another day is already about to start when hers isn't done. She is exhausted, and all she wants to think about is the hot shower she is going to take before throwing herself under the covers.

Yet, the universe seems to have other plans for her — she knew, from the second she entered the ship, that something was wrong. She was about to turn the lights on when she changed her mind, remembering that thing that someone told her about keeping the lights off when there is an intruder in the house. She knows the space, not them.

She walks carefully to another room when she notices that no one is in the living room. It is when she steps into her bedroom that she sees it, a figure in the dark that doesn't seem to move.

Suddenly, she can breathe again. The woman doesn't need to turn the light on to know who was sleeping in her bed, she knew it was you, and the sight was adorable. A part of her felt bad, she knows that you have probably waited for her for hours.

She walks closer to you, careful to not step on the candles that stopped burning a few hours ago. One of her hands finds a place on your cheek, her thumb caressing your skin slowly. “Hi, baby,” she whispers. A smile spreads on her lips when she notices the confusion on your face — you were supposed to surprise your girlfriend, not the other way around.

"Carol? W- what time is it?" you ask, your voice being raspy because you weren't completely awake yet. Something that you realize only a second later. “Wait, did I-"

“Fell asleep? I fear that you did, love..,” she chuckles, but her laugh is soon replaced by a frown, “but what are you doing here?” she asks, and you can hear the worries in her voice. It is true that you wouldn't have come all the way here if you hadn't a good reason, and the woman could only imagine the worse scenarios.

“I was missing you,” you whisper back, and the way you almost whined those words makes the woman's heart clench. It is only when you pronounce those words that you both realize how true they are. It makes you want to cry.

“And..?” she asks, knowing that there is more to your presence here. It is not your kind to do something like that. She has other questions in mind, as how the fuck did you do to enter her ship without triggering the alarm? Or, how the fuck did you find her localisation? But you come first, and she can feel that you are keeping something from her. “You know that you can tell everything, love?” she says, trying to coax you into sharing with her what was on your mind.

"I wanted to ask you something..," you admit, but suddenly this whole thing sounded stupid, and you couldn't look at her anymore.

"And it couldn't wait?" she chuckles, but as you aren't looking at her, you can't see the smile on her face. She has never been so much in love with someone, and anyone could see it on her face right now.

"Not really," you reply. You take a deep breath, trying to find the courage to pronounce the words you have thought of the past few hours. "Wait,-" you say, realizing that you don't know where the black box is. You find it a few seconds later, it has fallen on the ground while you were asleep.

"Carol Danvers," you start in a serious tone. You take one last deep breath, but as you are about to speak, the woman cuts you.

"Wait a second," she says, holding a hand to stop you from saying it. She knows the words you were about to say, because she has been dying to tell them to you for weeks.

Still, you can feel your heart dropping — does that mean she doesn't want to get married? You look at the woman as she disappears into the living room, and you can feel tears in your eyes. What feels like an eternity goes by before she comes back.

You, on the other hand, haven't moved an inch. You are still kneeling on the floor, holding the box, as if you were hoping for things to go differently. You are so lost in your thoughts that you realize that she is back only when she kneels in front of you, holding a box that is similar to yours.

"We say it ar the same time, okay?" she says. and you nod. Yet, you are a bit lost, and unsure of what is happening. "Would you marry me?" you both say at the same time, your voice joining the woman's.

[reverieblondie]

Saw you wanted more Raphael and Rolan arguing ideas, so try this one out:

Raphael pointing out that Lorroakan and Rolan are similar in that the only reason either one of the wizards was able to become archmage of the tower was because the previous owner was gone (in Rolan's case because Lorroakan is dead and only because of Tav and company taking the initiative to stop Rolan's power hungry master). Maybe Raphael asks Rolan what exactly he thinks he has to offer Tav other than a tower of twice stolen trinkets and the tiefling wizard's constant need of the adventurer's assistance. Maybe Raphael even rubs it in further by suggesting that this is why he never approached Rolan for a deal, "All that you have now, you out to my little mouse. Why would I bother contracting you when I could have the one to who you owe everything? Seems the wiser investment to me."

TL;DR- Raphael tries to give Rolan imposter syndrome.

Let me know what you think! 😁

YESSSS!!!!! I love the idea of these two just being so petty! And Raphael would know how to get right under Rolan's skin but I like to think He would hold his own.

I image that in this case Raphael is still trying to get Tav to either sign their soul to him or get the crown still. Maybe Tav has Rolan secretly stashing the crown? (Sweet anon gave me that idea awhile back) and maybe Raphael is suspicious (jealous) of how much time Tav spends with Rolan. (yes of course he watches her)

Rolan keeps his eyes steady on the intruder walking around his library, he had burst through here by a portal of fire and ash, powerful magic, but not strong enough to get to the vaults... From the description and from the sulfur smell it tells him all he needs to know. This is Raphael.

"My mouse must be fond of you for letting you take over this tower of trinkets. Such a sweet soul hm? So willing to give to the down trotted..."

Rolan squares his shoulders, "Carful who you call yours cambion, Tav hasn't given you her soul nor would she."

Raphael lifts a brow, "Ah, I guess you would be about to smell the hells on me wouldn't you? No doubt you have smelt it lingering on her." he draws with a smile. But Rolan isn't buying what he is implying.

"Tav has told me about your pursuit for her soul, what did she compare you to? oh yes a nat." Rolan smiles as Raphael sneers. "Forget her devil she won't give in to you. and if she every thinks she might, I will be their to pull her from you."

Raphael eyes him up and down, before a smile curls to his lips, "You? Will save her from me? How poetic, how romantic... how foolish." Rapheal steps closer but Rolan doesn't back down. "You know tiefling, She's never mentioned you... but I do remember you... at last light."

Rolan feels his tail twitch but he's keeps his composer. and Raphael continues, "Yes... the crying sap at the bar so sad about his life, his family, his apprenticeship, HA! So pathic that even a devil didn't find your soul desirable at your lowest. Now that nameless worthless mage is going to protect the hero of the gate? You couldn't even save yourself from the cad who beat you, she had to save you..."

Rolans brow furrows, "How did you-"

Raphael smiles, "Your bruises may be healed but I still see your wounds. Your an archmage of a tower that you didn't even earn. Really? What do you think she sees in you? what could you offer her? Your still that same little orphan who had to sleep in the streets and eat others trash.... You maybe be Rolan archmage of Ramazith Tower... but inside your still that nameless boy who needs others to save his useless hide."

Rolan trys to control his breathing... how did this... how did he know... all his doubts... his past... things he's forced himself to forget so easily plucked from him. Rolan knows this is the cambions game... but it still hurts all the same... he's... he's not enough for her, and he never will be.

Rapheal snaps and a portal opens, Rapheal bows to Rolan only earning him a growl from the wizard...

"Enjoy her for now, because when shes mine... I will never let her go..."

and with that the devil is gone... leaving Rolan to sink to his knees and question everything...

[yandere-fics]

Eliza Reyes

♡ "Look Puppy! I got a bell so now I won't scare you when I come up for a hug!" ♡

She's a manipulative yandere and will try to endear herself to you against rivals by acting like she's just a poor thing and they've hurt her really bad but it doesn't work often because before you arrived she was a minute away from biting their throats out and eating it. But like how can you scold her when she's whimpering and clinging to you? Also she calls you puppy because people call their lovers baby but she's a werewolf.

♡ "My name's Eliza! E-l-i-z-a, it's very important you remember it, it would really hurt if you forgot again!" ♡

Her name is Eliza Reyes and she's the future leader of her wolfpack so her name sort of carries a bit of weight in the supernatural world but it means jack shit in the city because only future kings and high up diplomats matter here. She's struggling to adjust to her name being considered low compared to all the bigger people like Miriel and Nikki around her.

♡ "Twenty! Perfect age to start a family don't you think?" ♡

Doesn't matter if you can't have children biologically with her, she will still try, and werewolves have their children with their mates young and very quickly. She'll sulk if you don't want them but that can be solved with bonus affection. Her children would be referred to as pup instead of puppy like she calls you.

♡ "You! I would only have eyes for my puppy!" ♡

She's a lesbian again.

♡ "I'm in training right now, but when I finish it, I'll be so cool and strong right? Don't you think so?" ♡

She's part of the bodyguard company Sawyer runs to train future leaders children, she does plan on returning to her pack instead of staying in the city and being on the big important squad once her training is over though.

♡ "I like-! Oh wait I shouldn't say that, heh. Uhm I like the way you smell puppy! I wonder how wonderful you'll smell once our scents have merged!" ♡

She was going to say she likes eating people because she was like a trash compactor to her pack, they'd just make her eat the bodies of all the intruders. Also she means mating by that last thing.

♡ "Grrrr I hate how stinky the city smells, it's a bit harsh on my nose, luckily I have you to dull the other scents!" ♡

She's a demon hater, demons smell very bad to her for some reason, she doesn't mind the scent elves have naturally but not her favorite. The worst smelling is the boss because she smells scary. She didn't realize Kassien was a demon at first because Kassien is midranked and thus doesn't smell very threatening. She also hates when you stop her from attacking, she just wants to rough them up a bit to give them a stern warning to get away.

♡ "I'm a good mate! I can be your very good loya doggy, please pet me?" ♡

She's a good tracker and hunter but she doesn't want to tell you that because what if you look at her differently? She's also good at differentiating between all the bad smells, even though most smell bad, she can still tell the different bad smells apart from each other.

♡ "Hmm, maybe I should get a bigger bell, you still seem a bit startled. Such a silly puppy you are, heh." ♡

[yuikomorihotline]

ℌ𝔶𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔞𝔰 𝔑𝔢𝔢𝔡 𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔚𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔐𝔬𝔰𝔱.

Pairing: Angsty Subaru and Yui , Reiji trying to be a good brother to Subaru.

Trigger warnings: Very light body horror (thorns stuck in Subaru's throat), vomiting, Hanahaki, unrequited love.

Notes: Hydrangeas have no role here, I just needed a title 🧍Once again mischaracterised everyone so happy days ig

Word count: 690

The unpleasant and miasmic metallic taste kept filling up his mouth the more he tried to pull the long thorny vines out of his already severely scraped and swollen larynx. The disgusting red petals… Their obnoxiously vibrant redness was almost mocking his current affliction and distress.

Those stupid roses and their damned thorns.

Subaru hated this… It was her fault for not loving him back, if she actually loved him too, he wouldn't be in so much agony.

Yui made him love her, and he despised her for that.

At this point, Subaru can't tell whether he wants to strangle her for causing him so much pain… Or even shoving thorny stems down her throat so she knows what it's like to be barely able to talk.

Maybe he wants to cry to her on his knees and beg Yui to love him so this pain would end.

Subaru was sick of shoving his hand down his already inflamed throat to pull out these abhorrent flowers that people seem to love for no damn good reason.

The perennial discomfort he felt was suffocating, which gave him the glimmer of hope that he won't make it to next season. But he remembered that he was a vampire, and that hope was but a fairytale.

Reiji was walking, going about his usual daily business, and heard the cloying sound of choking and gagging that made his skin crawl, so he took it upon himself to intrude into his youngest sibling's room to investigate.

"What on Earth is making you produce such a wretched sound? Explain yourself, Subaru.", snapped Reiji, folding his slender arms and examining the rose petals and thorns on the ground.

"Go away, Reiji… You-"

Subaru's insult was interrupted by the sickening feeling in his stomach, making him vomit seconds later and falling to his weak knees in response. Reiji stared at the petals floating in the repugnant bile, but it hardly stirred a reaction.

"T-This is her fault, it's a-all that bitch's fault!", He spluttered, doing everything in his power to calm himself down and to take his mind off the acidic burning in his stomach and throat.

Reiji simply raised an eyebrow in response, thinking that another one of his brothers has finally lost their senses.

"Come now, I cannot assist you if I do not know the source of your issue. Tell me immediately, because you've sounded dreadful for the past few weeks and, frankly, it is bothersome to me."

Subaru was too embarrassed to confide in Reiji, no, confiding was absolutely out of the question. It was common sense and the norm in that household to keep their internal issues to themselves, and if one did confide in another, they'd only receive but a judgemental gaze and a scoff in return.

"You're coughing up flowers… Hanahaki is it?", Mused Reiji.

"W-What's that?", mumbled Subaru, making Reiji's heart slightly sink from hearing how one of his loudest brothers' voice is so hoarse and barely even there.

Reiji sat next to Subaru and hesitated to talk to Subaru about this conundrum.

The elder brother felt like a mother who was asked where a baby came from by her child. However, the subject of love was a rare thing to speak of… Much more than something as simple to them as the pleasures of flesh. But even that would warrant something being thrown at them.

"You're in love, and the person who you love doesn't love you back… Thus the roses with the thorns. Which tells me that you love this person very much… Which is odd, considering what we are after all.", He murmured, which was odd for someone who always spoke so confidently.

Subaru was so close to an ebullition of agony from how badly he desired to gain the love of the blonde sacrifice. This burning feeling blooming the more he thought about her pulchritudinous expression, tranquille and sweet, even when she was in pain from his fangs.

"...Yui."

"So it is her who has caused this reaction… Unfortunately, Subaru… She too, has been coughing up flowers."

[looniez]

What do you think Link and Zelda did togheter during the time betqeen botw and totk

I'VE THOUGHT VERY HARD ABOUT THIS

this wound up being on the longer side so i'm putting it all under the cut!

a few years have passed between BOTW and TOTK. they don't give us an exact amount of time, but based on context clues it's safe to assume that anywhere between 5-7 years have passed. personally, i think it's likely been 5 years. that's a considerable chunk of time.

i am very firmly in the camp that link and zelda, by the time TOTK rolls around, are a couple. either that, or they've at least vocalized their feelings for each other but have yet to label anything. the baseline is that they very obviously love each other.

post BOTW (but before the epilogue), i think that link brings zelda back to hateno immediately after freeing her. it's important to him that she has a safe place to recuperate and heal and knows that his home is the perfect place to take her.

he makes sure she eats and has plenty to drink. he makes sure she's doing okay. he offers her his bed (more like insists) and keeps a careful eye on her. zelda would feel guilty and maybe feel like she's intruding or being a burden, but link wouldn't hear it and would shut it down quickly.

link sleeps on the floor in the nook beneath the stairs for the first few nights because he wants her to have space and privacy. he usually winds up upstairs to wake her from bad dreams anyway. zelda doesn't sleep well (neither does he) and eventually, link starts sleeping either next to or at the foot of the bed to be close by if she needs him (he needs her just as much). sometimes, he holds her hand and sits with her until she falls back asleep. those nights, he keeps an eye on her. they get closer as the weeks go by and fall back into old patterns from 100 years ago. link remembers more.

when they set out to investigate the divine beasts, it feels so similar to their time traveling together from before. everything is different, but it's like nothing has changed in a way. after, they return to hateno. it's home for them both now without it needing to be verbally agreed upon.

she tells him that he's no longer obligated to follow her anymore and that he's free. zelda feels guilty. link tells her that he's not staying by her side out of an obligation, or because of some century-old duty. he wants to. he chooses her. he would follow her to the ends of the earth.

zelda builds the school. link stays by her side like glue. they fall into a routine, build a sense of normalcy, and live a life with each other as if they are each other's center of gravity.

eventually, they start sharing the bed. it was bound to happen sooner or later. link wound up beside her most nights anyway (this was zelda's exact reasoning. she insisted it was ridiculous for him to continue sleeping on the floor). they sleep much better beside each other.

they keep up the work of trying to rebuild hyrule. they stick by each other's sides through it all.

i really do think that at some point in between BOTW and TOTK, they wind up together. it just feels right to me. even before confirming it, i think that they both understand that their relationship isn't that of just friends, but they might still feel hesitant to cross that line for fear of ruining what they've so carefully built together. the mutual pining is UNREAL!

eventually, it comes out one way or another. they kiss.

when the gloom starts to appear around the kingdom and they head off to investigate under the castle, they are doing so the same way they do everything else: together.

[spidernuggets]

note: i thought your idea was so cool and wanted to write for it. it’s the way i said i’m writing this and not my papers due tomorrow. it's also not finished hence why it doesn't include all the plot points and i don't think i'll continue it cause it sucks but wanted you at least read it. i also noticed that you said the titan not the teen titan and that who I based this off of and then reread your plot again and realized (another reason why i feel like not continuing it) gosh this is mess but enjoy!

“tell me, are they going to be okay? 

the question is from starfire who carries a concerned look on her face while everyone else’s eyes are still glued to the tv screen.    

“don’t worry star, course they will. it’s just a movie after all, none of it is real.” dick’s attempt to comfort kori comes from a place of trying to remind her that movies are in fact not documented disasters but purely made for entertainment purposes.

“no.” beastboy blurts out out of no where, but is lucky that starfire is too focused to hear what he says.

both you and raven shoot him a look from your places on the couch, one that clearly reads ‘don’t you dare say anything that’ll even come close to spoiling anything again.’

“i mean no it’s not. the titanic was an actual thing that happened. it is real right?” he turns to you who’s plotted on the ground with him to defend his case.

you only shushes him with a hand gesture and signal to keep watching.

“—i see now. i believe i understand. titanic. titans. surely, a collective of superhero’s like us shall show up and rescue all in the ship.” star looks proud with her predictions.

everyone freezes.

you eye dick who’s next to you and his eyes are wide and saying ‘maybe showing her this movie wasn’t the best of ideas.”

you’re amazing with this eye reading thing.

you glance at raven. she shrugs.

“we’ll just have to se—.”

your voice is interrupted by what sounds like footsteps trotting up the stair. everyone looks back to the unthreatening intruder to only then look back when he’s identified.

he’s invisible.

he makes no effort to glance at anyone. you make no effort to look away from him.

…

the sticker of [blank] on jason’s room stares back at you. technically speaking it’s the spare room that stays vacant which he only uses whenever he’s around.

which is not often.

before you can raise a hand to knock, the door flings open and you’re met with an unexpected glare from jason.

“hi.”

“hey.” he looks out into the hall and back at you. “wasn’t expecting you.”

“sure you weren’t.” you poke your tongue out.

“of course I wasn’t.”

“says the person swinging open doors.” he needs to be reminded.

“to the person snooping around floors they have no business being on.” you need to remember.

you narrow your eyes at him, and smile starts to play on your lips. the one he’s been holding back since you came hasn’t gone unnoticed by you either.

“okay jason. i’m here for you because i miss you so much and maybe, just maybe, i want a hug, 4 kisses and 7 different responds to my question of ‘how are you doing?’”

jason’s can’t help but laugh at your admission. “yeah?”

“are you making fun of me?” you pout.

“i wouldn’t dream of it. c’ mere.”

grumpy and moody is what he is in others presence but for you he’ll show you any side. as he pulls you into a warm hug, you can’t help but feel a sense of victory. it might be your playful way of breaking down his walls, but you know that deep down, he appreciates your effort to bring a bit of lightheartedness into his world.

to you he’s never invisible.

you nuzzle your head into his chest as he wraps his arms around you.

“you took forever.”

“i know.”

…

jason’s room lacks curtains, a detail most evident in times like these when the sunlight infiltrates in and rouses you from your sleep.

you’d offered getting him a pair from the storage a couple of times, but his response was always the same: he wouldn’t be around for too long.

so you don’t need to turn around to know he’s gone.

...

U g hhhh!!! STOP they little cuties

-------------------------------------------------------------

The two of you laid in his bed for a while longer, your head on his chest and his arms wrapped around your waste.

"I wish you'd stay longer," you say quietly. A wish, a hope, a desire you crave every day. You couldn't help but lean closer into his body as you whisper that, wanting to hold him tighter, closer, as if he would permanently fall off the face of the earth if you'd let go.

"I know, mama," He replies sadly. He mirrors your movements, arms holding you close. Holding on, rewinding the fantasy he's been playing in his head. The fantasy that he could just take you away with him. Settle down in someplace far from Gotham. Far from any worries. But that's all it was. A fantasy. A fantasy he couldn't make come true, and you couldn't either.

"We're going to be okay?" You ask. It was meant to come out as a statement. But though you gave so much faith in your relationship, you couldn't help but question how long you can hold on.

"We're going to be okay," Jason states. Neither of you make a promise. Neither if you can guarantee that you'll be okay. But for now, you cherish the moment. With tight hugs, lingering kisses, and fading fantasies.

Your hand trails down to his. Your thumb caresses his calloused skin. Reminding him he's not invisible. Not to you. Never to you.

-------------------------------------------------------------

IK UR LIL STORY ISNT FINISHED N U WONT CONTINUE IT, BUT I LOVE IT SM STILL 🫶🫶 I WANTED TO CONTINUE ON LIKE A LIL COLLAB!

THANKS SO MUCH ANON, THIS HAS FILLED THE EMPTY HOLE IN MY SOUL THAT LACKED MY PROMPT, EVEN IF IT IS LACKING PLOT POINTS, STILL ADORE IT NONETHELESS!!!

HOPE YOU GET YOUR PAPER DONE!! I'M CURRENTLY READING YOUR SHORT STORY INSTEAD OF WRITING MY ESSAY TOO!! HAVE A GREAT DAY!

[blueepink07]

This scene in Umbilical is very interesting to me...

The people who are next to Yuno have facial expressions.

In Milgram the characters with a well defined face are usually important for the prisoners or for the story.

Good examples are Haruka's mother, whose face appears in the second MV, while his victim still doesn't have a face. Fuuta's supposedly friends at the arcade, Rei -> important storywise, being the victim + a possible affection Muu had for her (implied), Shidou's family (the patients don't have faces), Mahiru's boyfriend, Hanako - Kazui's wife and victim, Kotoko - the man who she steps on his stomach (victim).

So why Yuno, in the only sequence where there are people shown, actually remembers their facial expressions?

Well, I think this scene is more a representation of the society.

If we look closely, we notice a young woman, a middle-age man, a student like Yuno, a younger boy, probably in primary school, an older man.

Basically, people from all ages.

Despite that Yuno tells Es that she doesn't want to change her ways, she had to become a people pleaser. After all, why would she need to put up different facades for every client or person she is with? Why so much effort, that she is even matching clothes to fit the vibe with who she is with? Of course, she made all this with a purpose in mind, to find warmth! In Milgram, she stopped putting up a facade, because this place doesn't represent a place of interest for her anymore.

Ultimately, despite having a purpose in mind, she became, along the way, a people pleaser.

As I stated in my older analysis, Yuno is not fond of society. Because of people who like to humiliate and talk behind their peers who act different or have other perceptions, Yuno has to hide her work and her true self. For a long time, I have been thinking why Yuno makes so much effort, if she, in reality, doesn't care that much about herself...

"Yuno: Haha, we both lie, don't we? The difference is the reason for lying. Kazui-san, you lie to protect yourself, because you're important to yourself. For me, no one is particularly important. That includes myself as well."

Well, in Japan, reputation is very important! If Yuno, will show her true name and self, she might be putting her family in danger, along the way. And she will never want that, because she cares a lot about her family!

"What do you think about your family?"

If Yuno, because of a mistake, would tell her true identity, her family reputation might be at stake. Something that she will never want to happen.

That's why Yuno cares about what these people think and deems them important. She needs to be sure that her facade of a simple high schooler is perfect! To not act out of ordinary, follow the flow, be the same as everyone, so the society will accept her!

Moreover, it's important to state that these people are coloured in a lighter shade of lavender, they are not colourful as other Milgram side characters who don't have faces.

Lavender can express a feeling of dullness, it's lethargic. It could represent Yuno's views about society, how she feels like everyone is the same: judging others for their own self-esteem and pride.

This colour is also a colder one, showing Yuno's loneliness and the lack of warmth she receives from other people. This actually reminds me of a certain dialogue!

"Yuno: That’s right. You know those people who just wanna convince themselves, so they intrude in other people’s affairs even though it’s not their place—I despise them. That’s what I was saying. They only do that to make themselves feel better, don’t they? Those people don’t actually end up doing anything.

Es: Yuno…

Yuno: No matter how many chilling memories I had to go through, those people never gave me any warmth. [sigh] Hehe, I ended up going off-topic there! Um, what did I wanna say again?"

~"chilling memories" ~

The lyrics that are accompaning these visuals are stating that Yuno is feeling some kind of discomfort (her pregnancy). She can't smile anymore, more genuinely.

"I feel a little weird I’m still not used to feeling this way

I can’t get you out of my head, it’s a secret, ok?

Why are you here? You annoy me a little

I can’t smile well anymore, it’s because of you"

Her smile here looks a bit forced. Her eyes don't share the same happiness as her mouth, showing that her expression is not genuine.

Despite Yuno appearing calm about her pregnancy, she was actually a bit afraid and needed help! However, all she could see was a sea of purple, people, all the same, who would have just shamed her for her decisions and wouldn't help...

Bonus

In Teardrop, the only human we see, other than Yuno, is one of her clients. Well, see, it's an exaggeration, since he is represented by his hand which has colour. Yuno remembers him as his hand who gave her warmth, at some point in time. A cute rabbit, a sweet drink and a nice memory!

[starrycassi]

Hate, love, guilt, mothers. Aren't they all synonyms?

You can find part one of this au here, and two here. Also a quick explanation on who's Gloria here. Mild nsfw mention at the end. Like, super mild.

The grounds of the Goldenloin mansion are always breathtaking, it doesn't matter how many times Ballister's been here as a guest, as an intruder, as a knight, as a lover. The gardens are fantastic, and the structure makes him feel so, so tiny.

Standing here, looking at the dining table made for dozens and dozens of people, Ballister can't help but feel out of place. The maid that guided them here is mimicking their pose, right next to them, and Ballister signals to Ambrosius, tugging on his sleeve. There's no need for her to be here, too. She should be free to leave.

Ambrosius gets the memo and dismisses the poor girl, who leaves quietly and quickly. Ballister's skin itches.

In front of them rests a wonderful feast, colorful and appealing, even if some plates are covered with golden silverware, to protect the food from loosing it's flavor, or whatever. He can't help but wonder how many street kids are hungry right now — can't help but remember what it's like, to be alone and lost and begging for a crumb of bread, a sip of water, a simple plate of food and be denied and-

The echo of someone's steps brings him back to the present, and he stares at the woman as she walks in. Captain Gloria limps as she arrives, her golden hair down in a braid that reaches her lower back. She gleams at them, despite the clear pain that every step delivers to her system. Her eyes aren't quite focused.

Ambrosius suddenly goes still, fixing his posture.

The two of them just accept the silence, live in it, for the next couple of seconds. Gloria finally gets to the table and sits down slowly, hissing when she finally does so, reeking of alcohol and a splendid perfume. She's at the head of the chairs, and Ambrosius rounds up the table to sit right next to her. Ballister tries to follow him.

“Don't” orders the woman, her hand suddenly reaching out to grip Ballister's wrist. She tugs on him, making take a seat, too, at her left. Ambrosius stares at him with a questioning look, and he stares back with an even more questioning look. It's his mom that's acting weird, he should know what's going on.

They don't have to figure it out, though, because she explains it soon enough.

“You are not here as Ambrosius's guest, today. You're a suitor. Act accordingly or get out”

Her voice, cold and demanding, takes both of the boys by surprise. Gloria's and Ballister's relationship has never been a specially warm one, but all in all, he's always seen her as a stressed out woman who doesn't really care about anything but her work and her son. Everytime they've been together she's drunk, hurt, on duty, or in a weird combination of those options. She's never been openly hostile or mean to him, so he's left in unexplored grounds when her blue eyes are suddenly fixed on his face, pinning him to his seat and making his head spin with with dread and doubts.

“Mom, there's no need to-”

Ambrosius tries, he really tries, to reason with her. Gloria, who's whole body moves weirdly and limply, suddenly hits the table with her fist closed, and Ambrosius straightens up in his seat, body reacting before his mind does so, instincts ingrained on him urging him to obey and comply to orders, even the unspoken ones.

Ballister knows the look on Gloria's eyes — he's seen it before, only, not on her face — she's not only intoxicated, not merely wounded. She's full of regret, of fury, of pure and unfiltered anger. As soon as that knowledge hits him, he's filled with a strange sense of security, of comfort. She's mad and she's irrational, but he knows the reason of those feelings. She's merely a mother defending her child, a knight defending her loved ones.

Ballister is trying to do the same, and it's refreshing to see his own feelings of confusion and hatred mirrored into Gloria's face. He knows what her anger means, because his blood burns with the same heat, the same intensity.

“I'm sorry, Captain Gloria” he says, slowly and clearly. The nerves he felt all the way here disappear, leaving only his determination, his devotion. Gloria isn't against him. She's against anything that might hurt jer son, and that's a feeling Ballister not only understands, but shares, “It was awfully inadequate of me to act that way. I beg your forgiveness”

She smiles, woobly and unsteadily, at him. She's pleased with his words, clearly. He tries to remember the hours and hours of ranting that Ambrosius blessed his ears with every so often, complaining about stupid protocol lessons that his mother made him take.

“Very well” she nods at him, and he imitates the gesture. He quickly nods at Ambrosius, too, to try and reassure him. This will be okay. It has to.

Ambrosius's shoulders relax just the slightest bit at that, but he smiles, and talks again,

“I'm incredibly hungry, Mum. Why don't we eat before we discuss this, yeah?”

It's always surprising to Ballister, really, how adaptable Ambrosius is. One minute, he's a big dramatic performer for the Queen. The next, he's merely a child with a pleading voice, asking— no, begging, for some peaceful seconds with his mom.

“Yes, the food. Let's eat and talk business, shall we? That's not really an appropriate thing to do, I suppose, but I can make an exception, seeing as how you've had the guts to ask for my son's hand in marriage, cadet”

She claps, and servants lift the coverings. Some of their faces are recognizable to Ballister. Did they live in the same orphanage? Were they friends, and his mind has forgotten?

This is whst he hates about the Goldenloin mansion. This is what he hates about every single noble event ever. He simply resings himself to his fate, a rejected freak to the nobles and a traitor to the commoners. He tries to keep his eyes on the table, tries not to to think about how some of the people working for Ambrosius, serving him, probably have never even tried the kind of feast he's about to have.

Ballister's never been a religious person, but he prays for forgiveness, even if it's merely for a second. He prays for forgiveness, even if it's undeserved.

The steak in front of him suddenly loses its appeal. The nerves are back, just like that. He hates himself for that, for being so brave a second and then a complete coward in the other.

They simply eat, for some moments. Gloria sips her glass of red wine every so often, and both of the boys chew methodically on their steaks. Food is fuel, Ballister tries to remind himself, tasting guilt and shame in every bite, feeling as if he's chewing his own heart; food is fuel, and he needs fuel for this conversation.

That doesn't make the bitterness of the whole situation go away.

“You said you have a plan” accuses Gloria, after washing down a bit of her salad with wine, “but I'm yet to hear anything about it”

Ballister's first instinct is to roll his eyes, tell her that it's her who's been acting all weird and cranky, but he knows better than to go against an older knight, even if she's drunk and injured. She's also his mother-in-law, and he refuses to feed into the stereotype of in laws not getting along.

“The food just distracted us, mom, that's all. It's really good”

Gloria's face softens a bit, and she offers her son a quick sound of agreement.

“Still. I need to know what you two rascals are up to, don't I?”

As if she didn't just violently smash the table, she laughs a bit at her joke, muttering something about teenagers under her breath.

They do their best to explain themselves without setting her off again, Ambrosius providing Ballister with facial expressions that let him know when to shut up and when to keep going. At the end of it, their food is almost gone, Ballister's guilt is almost forgotten, and Gloria looks almost convinced.

"And what do you win, cadet?"

She looks feral, like a lion ready to chew down on it's prey. Ballister refuses to lose against her, not today.

"I get to see my boyfriend be happy. What else could I possibly want?"

Some of the servants seem too moved by his answer to hide their coos, but he doesn't dare look their way, too scared to find out that perhaps that truly are the kids that grew up on his same street, with his same dreams. He keeps his eyes fixed on Gloria's, blue and brown crashing and figthing.

"Sounds like bullshit to me. No one would do all that just for someone else's happiness or whatever"

She shakes her head in disagreement, and Ballister wants to scream at her, tell her that she doesn't know shit about them, that he would walk barefoot into a burning building if it meant saving Ambrosius. He doesn't.

"I don't need anything else" he says, instead, "I only want to make sure that my boyfriend has a choice and-"

"Okay, say you win" interrupts Gloria, looking bemused with him. He hates the way she stares him down like a mere child, "and the interviewer; because this will be televised, that's a no brainer, asks what do you want. What are you going to tell the kingdom?"

He doesn't even hesitate, before answering:

"I would ask for just enough money to pay back my debth with the house of Elpis and the Goldenloin house. Then, for Ambrosius's political allies to be a matter only he can have the final say on. Not you, or me, or anyone else"

She looks at him some more, as if trying to be intimidating. He doesn't budge.

"That is an honest answer" she finally says, nodding, "That's more believable. That, I can accept. I think"

She makes a show of considering things, tapping her index finger to her chin. They keep quiet, waiting for her verdict.

“It's a decent attempt” she concedes, after some seconds of humming to herself. "It's even a good idea"

They both sigh, relieved. She clicks her tongue, and shakes her head, again, like some sort of wet dog, and they feel not so relieved, now.

“But you two are openly... close to one another, right? Everyone knows. Can't do anything if you win and people question us, can we? About your little, well, romance, and all that”

Gloria never really acknowledges the fact that her son is dating Ballister, even if he did come out and confess the secret to her half a year ago, cracking under the pressure of a specially though new years party. It gives Ambrosius some sort of dumb hope, that perhaps his mom might actually start taking his own free will into account and validating his love for Ballister. Even if she always says that that's something she already does.

“We're still trying to figure out what to do with that, Mum”

She laughs some more, making him feel stupid. Ballister looks as confused as he feels when she merely giggles at their faces, gulping down the rest of her drink. A servant refills it immediately.

“You kids are so slow, nowadays” she flaps her hand, rolling her eyes, “a mere fight will be enough. In a public space, obviously. Be nasty about it. My friends and I used to do it when we wanted to get a rise out of our parents. Neat trick”

And, with that piece of advice, she keeps on drinking.

.

Ambrosius excuses them both out of the table when they're done, leaving Captain Gloria to drunkenly mumble nonsense to herself.

The halls of the mansion are spacious and lonely, so they're able to walk together, holding hands, without a care in the world. Ambrosius has grown up here, was raised here. He knows and trusts the staff to keep a couple of secrets.

“She seems… a bit agitated” Ballister says, softly. Gloria has been a sore spot for their conversations ever since the start of their friendship, and they mostly try to avoid talking about her. But if feels wrong, to be in her house and pretend she doesn't exist.

“She's got a dislocated hip” Ambrosius answers, voice impregnated with pity, “Must hurt a lot. She was distracted with this whole thing and a thief managed to hit her real hard…”

He stares at the floor, but they keep on walking to Ambrosius's bedroom. After lunch, Gloria has practically demanded for them to stay until dinner, arguing that they have already lost most of the day, anyways. Neither one of them dared go against her word.

“I'm happy she's mad. At least I'm not the only one worried about your ass”

“I can assure you, Ballister, your thoughts about my ass are really, really different from her thoughts about it. At least I hope so”

Hip bumping his boyfriend for being an idiot, Ballister blushes a bit. Ambrosius does have a nice body.

“Don't be weird about this, Amber. We're literally talking about you mom”

“No, you are talking about her. I'm talking about people's thoughts on my ass. That's a whole different conversation”

“Not a specially interesting one, I'm sure. Much like your very flat ass”

Ambrosius gasps, offended, just as they reach the doors of his bedroom. He makes a show of dramatically slamming the door, just to open it back again mere seconds later, sticking out his tongue at Ballister before allowing him to come in.

“Keep this treatment up, and I'm actually marrying Todd” he threatens, and Ballister half heartedly pushes him.

“Okay, your ass is not flat. Just… sort of concave. Happy?”

“Not so much. But, alas, I'm not really dating a poet, am I? My heart has chosen you, even with your horrible mistreatments towards my figure”

They laugh at the stupidity of the situation, as if guilt isn't eating Ballister alive, as if Ambrosius isn't worried to death for his mom, as if the world isn't collapsing and burning around them.

They take of their shoes, and get into bed, cuddling with each other almost immediately, used to it after years and years of practice. Ballister rests his cheek on Ambrosius's chest, and they hold hands, tangling their legs. This is incredibly inappropriate to do on Ambrosius's house, with his mom meter away, but everything around them feels so wrong right now that this is the closest they can get to normal.

The events of the last few hours settle in. Panic comes back, alongside with every other emotion that they have been trying to run away from. It's scary, to admit that perhaps they could fail. They could be wrong. Ambrosius understands why his mom seems to be in denial all of the time; it's easier to pretend that something is not happening than to deal with the fact that it is.

The room is quiet. They're just teens.

“I'm nervous”

“Me, too. I'm terrified”

“Yeah. Me, too”

And it's just them, their fears and their breaths, for a second. There's nothing else but them. But reality is always there, waiting, and it comes with paperwork and legalities and many, many other things. It's them against the world, even if they would really, really like to just make peace with everyone and sleep until winter.

To avoid silence — because it comes with too many questions, too many memories, too many reminders — Ballister decides to keep on with their plan, furthering it, and asks, “So, now, we fake fight?”

“I think it's the best choice we have, right? Mom said so”

Ambrosius, always eager to follow Gloria's word, seems to perk up. Ballister feels slightly annoyed, but at least his boyfriend looks a little less like a kicked kitten.

“And what are we figthing about, uh?”

This is scary, too. Yeah, a fake figth. That's something they should be able to manage. But there's some issues, here and there, and perhaps they're just waiting for a chance to come out. This could be that chance. And there's no way they're going to actually live apart from each other, but they have to, right? So it's believable.

“What about something stupid? Like, I don't know, jazz?”

“Ambrosius, you know very well how I feel about-”

To stop his boyfriend from going on yet another campaign of hate against freestyle jazz, Ambrosius gives him a quick kiss on the hair, successfully making him shut up.

“Kay, not jazz. What, then?”

“Let's fight about this. I'll be jealous, you'll scream at me for being jealous, and we'll break up. Call me a selfish insecure asshole, or something”

Ambrosius immediately pants like a wounded animal, frowning. He makes Ballister get up slightly, to make sure he can see his eyes. They're full of love. Pure, solid, love.

“I don't ever want to hurt you, Bal”

Ballister chokes on air, because this isn't fair. Ambrosius is so pretty, resting on the mattress, looking up at him. No one else but him should ever get to see him like this. Specially not some imbecile who thinks figthing for him is enough to get married.

“It's just going to be a play-pretend situation, Amber. I don't wanna hurt you, either, but it's going to be just a couple of days. Then, we're back to normal”

Ambrosius ponders on it, pouting. But he finally nods, agreeing.

“Fine. We're hating each other from now on”

.

The next time Ballister wakes up, they're back at the Institute, half naked, fused together like a pretzel. Perhaps they got a bit too sentimental when they came back, and perhaps they stole a couple of sips from Gloria's wine reserve. A make out session had been the start of their so called hate, and Gloreth, did they suck at this.

“Ambrosius. Ambrosius, wake up. Ambrosius, fucking move”

With a bit more of force than needed, he shakes his boyfriend, trying to get him to open up his eyes. Ambrosius attempts to do so and also get up, miscalculating, and falling face first to the floor.

Shit.

Hurrying up to help him, Ballister trips, too. The wine is still in their systems, apparently, and it makes them laugh like idiots as soon as their gazes cross.

“Shit. We're supposed to be figthing, Amber”

“I'm pretty sure last night counts as a form of combat. Sword figths, one may call it”

“Shut the fuck up, honestly. Just, for once, shut up”

“Only if you kiss me, babe"

Okay, maybe they aren't suited for a divorce yet. Ballister got up, grunting, and Ambrosius followed suit, if only because the floor is way too cold to be laying on it with nothing but a boxer and shorts on. He smiled at the wall when he managed to stand up on his own two feet, still dizzy.

“What now, Bal?”

Ballister struggled to put his shirt back on, trying to remember where the fuck his shoes where. It was early, still. If he hurried up, he could sneak out without anyone seeing him.

“Dont ask me. This whole thing was your plan. Think, Ambrosius; for the first time in your life, think”

Ambrosius threw the nearest object at his ungrateful boyfriend, and rolled his eyes when the comb impacted against the desk. Turns out his aim gets affected by alcohol. Who could've thought?

“What was that for?!” Hisses Ballister, barely managing to get done with his clothes. Ambrosius's loopy smile only grew bigger at the sight, and he looked so much like his mom, for a second. Just a second.

“We're figthing, love. I think this is how figths are supposed to go, right?”

And he threw a hair cream bottle, that impacted on the wall.

Ballister opened up the door, just in time for the notebook Ambrosius threw to go flying through it. Some cadets were already out, curious about the noise. Ambrosius, drunk and ad impulsive as his mother, grinned with pleasure. Yes, a public fight, indeed.

“And get out!” he screamed, remembering the way his mother looked at him yesterday, feeling the tears burning on the very corners of his eyes, hating her stare and wishing she looked at him more often “I don't want to talk to you ever again, you hear me?!”

A pillow was thrown. Ballister fought down the urge to burst out laughing. This felt so much like a cheap soap opera.

“It's not my fault you're a coward!” He screamed back, wine helping him come up with the words, “Go and die for all I care, Golden Boy! Hang yourself from a fucking tower, I don't give a shit!”

More and more people came in to witness the situation. Had he been sober, Ballister probably would've stopped. He wasn't, though.

“You're so jealous!” Screeched Ambrosius, like he meant it, “You're just jealous of my suitors being way better than you, you prick!”

Ballister kneeled down, picked up the fallen pillow, and threw it right back at it's owner. Ambrosius barely contained his cackles.

“I'll enter the fucking tournament just so I can disown you, Ambrosius! You don't deserve all that money!”

They were losing the plot a bit, but it didn't really matter. A figth is a figth, no matter the reasons.

“Do whatever you want, Ballister! You're never winning, never !”

Next, a sweater came in, balled up, flying. This one actually hit Ballister on the eye, and he had to take a step back, surprised. Ouch.

“We'll see about that, you idiot!”

With a final heated stare, Ballister turned around, bitting down his tongue to dissimulate the giggles.

.

As soon as he got into his room and locked his door, Ballister opened up his cellphone, already missing his boyfriend's arms. He found a couple of drunken voicemails Ambrosius had already sent his way, and a couple of pictures that matched the vibe of their last night.

Smiling, he got into his own bed, hiding under the sheets. Perhaps intense figths weren't such a bad idea for their relationship, after all.