#theseus has two hands

[sapphic-terror]

Hear me out - Sometimes a relationship is you, your boyfriend, and his friend, (the daughter of the man you hate who kinda saved your life so now you owe her and you boyfriend really does like her) (fuck it, you’ve made worse decisions) (and if you radicalize the future ruler of Crete in the process of seducing her into a poly relationship with you and your boyfriend well things could be worse)

(“Hello, Princess.” Ari fought the urge to scream, or throw herself off the nearest wall. Irony and all that.

“What do you want, Nax?”)

[tequilawitholives]

A Bandaid of Love

summary: theseus always shows up to y/n when he gets a cut, since she always has a bandaid. some say he's there for help but others know that it's not just because of that. word count: 2k warnings: mostly fluff and pining for each other, reader is kinda oblivious to the flirting, i imagine theseus to be like a flirty person when he really likes someone masterlist

"hey, y/n?"

"a bandaid? again? what did you do this tim-" y/n looked up from her parchment and got eye contact with the famous newt scamander

"oh! newt! sorry i thought it was theseus." she chuckled and watched how newt sat down in front of her.

newt slammed his head onto her desk and groaned, his fluffy hair laying down onto the table gently.

"what's wrong?" y/n asked the poor boy in front of her while leaning back in her cushioned seat.

"i have that meeting about my permit and i'm nervous. it hasn't gone well in a while." newt explained, looking up from his demise.

y/n only patted his shoulder, smiling empathetically while continuing on her work on her parchment.

"if you think more openly, it will go much better, i think. you just have to... listen maybe to what they want to say?" she tried to comfort newt who only looked at her with a sigh.

"theseus already said that, that i should be less me."

y/n smiled for herself and a door opened into her office, theseus scamander walking inside with his finger slightly in his mouth.

"sorry for interrupting, darling, but i cut myself again." theseus began, not noticing newt by the desk.

y/n didn't say anything and slid her drawer open, pulling out one of her pink bandaids and handing it to theseus who smiled at her softly at the sight of the baby pink bandaid.

"thank you." theseus thanked her and plastered it onto his bleeding finger while looking to the side, now noticing his brother.

"oh, hello, brother." he greeted newt with a smile, newt only exchanging a small smile to his older brother before leaning his chin on his hand, staring at y/n who continued on her work.

theseus patted newt on the shoulder and left the office with a smile on his face.

"you know, he's been getting cuts a lot lately." y/n spoke outloud, not really thinking about what she was actually saying and newt rolled his eyes.

"can't you see it?" newt said to y/n who put down her quill, eyebrows furrowed while she looked at newt who had an "are you fr?" expression.

newt only shook his head while standing up, leaving y/n confused while trying to continue her work.

what did newt mean by that?

another two hours went by with no disruptions and y/n finished her work, now reading a book about dangerous charms for smart wizards 101.

it was quiet, too quiet for y/n to even be able to focus on the book she was reading.

all of her thoughts were on the thing newt had said to her.

what did he mean by how she couldn't see it? see what? theseus only needed bandaids because he got hurt so much, what's special about that?

a knock on the door was heard and y/n called out for the person to step in and in stepped theseus with a small smile on his face.

"hi, theseus!" y/n greeted the man, sliding her bookmark between the pages before closing the book, putting her attention to theseus who leaned against the desk while watching her movements.

"need another bandaid?" she joked and theseus chuckled and shook his head, fiddling with a paperclip on the desk.

"no, just wanted to see what my favourite auror was doing." he said, his smile brightening as they start to converse, about anything really.

y/n looked at the clock and saw that her shift was over, lifting her feet off of her desk, making theseus stand straight.

"going somewhere tonight?" he asked, y/n shaking her head with a smile.

"probably just continue working on my book, maybe eat a good dinner, nothing too exciting." she answered while pulling her arms through the coat with a simple movement.

theseus saw this as an open door for him. time to actually get her on a date with him so that he could express his longing feelings for the girl in front of him.

they went to hogwarts together, the same house too and year. hufflepuff is a comfort for the both of them and the memories they have together are memorable for sure.

but it started for theseus in year three. y/n had just changed her hair and something with it just pulled theseus closer to her.

every lesson he sneaked glances at her, watching her write on her parchment, her small focused face while working on a potion while he accidentally dropped in too much gillyweed into his own cauldron.

a small explosion was beneath theseus and a cloud of ash exploded into his face, his hair sticking up by the sudden force of air.

the classroom began giggling while the professor walked up to him with a sigh, shaking his head while helping him clean up his desk by the flick of his wand.

a small chuckle was heard and theseus looked up from his failed potion, making eye contact with y/n who was hiding her chuckle behind her hand.

theseus felt a grin on his lips while his professor told him to just sit down and wait until the rest of the class finished, walking away to continue help other students.

theseus sat down in his stool, his head down and looking into his lap with a smile because even if he ruined his potion, he got a reaction from the girl of his dreams.

it was in the sixth year he finally got to be close to her. the yule ball.

they went together as friends. just friends.

but theseus loved every second of the night, his hands on her waist as they danced to the jazz from the live orchestra who were playing about some witch with bad teeth or something, theseus didn't care.

his eyes were on y/n's while they danced, her smile making the room brighter than it was before. it was a scene, for sure.

the night had continued until the head master had told everyone that it was now over, y/n and theseus walking out from the hall with massive grins on their faces.

"that was fun" y/n had mentioned while they walked up to their common room, theseus muttering the password to the fat lady who was woken up by the studenst returning.

"never knew you could dance like that, theseus." she continued with a snicker, theseus only rolling his eyes while smiling.

"you're just jealous, n/n." he had answered, now noticing how y/n's head was leaning against his shoulder.

y/n chuckled quietly as they stood in front of the two staircases that divided them for the night.

she turned to theseus, standing up onto her toes to leave a short kiss on his cheek before bidding him goodnight and leaving to go to bed.

theseus stood still with a small smile as he put his hand where y/n had kissed him. it was magical.

one of his friends wentby him with a laugh, punching him lightly in the shoulder as an encouragment as they walked up to their own dorm.

theseus slept well that night, a grin on his face.

but now they were older, adults in work.

"hey, n/n?" he asked y/n who was grabbing her bag. she looked up and nodded.

"since you're not doing anything special tonight how about we go eat dinner together? we can go to jessie's, we haven't been there in a long time." theseus suggested to y/n who felt a small smile creep onto her face.

"are you asking me onto a date, theseus scamander?" she asked with a smirk on her face as she walked closer to him, making his heart beat faster.

"maybe, is that wrong to do, darling?" theseus smugly said, looking down at the woman in front of him with a smirk.

"not at all."

theseus handed his elbow out with a chuckle, y/n only grinning and curtsying dramatically before taking his elbow, walking with him out from her office and out from the ministry, their bodies close as they walked around in london.

the pair arrived at jessie's, the calm jazzy mood inside comforting them both as they got sat down at a table, facing each other.

"i recognise this song." y/n said while opening the menu in front of her.

it was one of the songs that had been at the yule ball that night, it was one of y/n's favourites.

"it brings you back, doesn't it?" theseus asked while reading the menu, his eyes flicking up toward y/n who nodded.

"remember that clevens guy who vomitted all over professor burke?" y/n chuckled as she remembered the scene of the poor kid vomiting over the professor who wasn't entirely happy with him.

theseus chuckled with her before a waiter came and asked for their orders.

soon enough the waiter came back with the food and the pair began eating, keeping a small chatter between them.

the night softly came to a close and the pair walked out from the restaurant, theseus stuffing his hands into his coat pockets.

they walked on the streets, not ready to end the night between them.

while they walked, some shouting was heard and a group of men where walkign towards the pair on the streets.

theseus felt a signal through his spine and hurriedly slid his arm around y/n's waist, looking down at his feet as they walked past the men.

one of the men stared at y/n with an ugly grin, his teeth crooked in his mouth as he wiped his lips like a hungry dog, it was quite disgusting, y/n thought.

theseus hand held y/n's waist tightly, almost scared that one of the men would snatch her away and as they became alone again on the street, he didn't let go.

"theseus, you're pinching me a little." y/n giggled and looked up at theseus who's eyes darted down and he realised what he was doing and loosened his grip.

"sorry, didn't mean to." he muttered, looking back at the men who were walking into an alley.

"my flat is just right there, if you want to you can stay over the night at mine's?" y/n suggested, trying to hint that she would like him to stay as she played a little with her heel against the concrete.

theseus looked down with a grin, his eyebrows lifted in slight surprise.

"sure, darling, i'm guessing you need someone to warm your bed for you?" he joked, following with y/n to her flat.

right as they walked inside, an old woman's voice was hear.

"is that you y/n?" she called out.

y/n put a hand over theseus' mouth and sighed.

"yes, ms. burrow."

"is it just you?"

"always, ms. burrow."

theseus tilted his head like a confused puppy but y/n ignored him and walked up the stairs with theseus behind her.

she opened the door to her flat and walked inside but theseus stood there kinda nervously, not really knowing if he should be there or not.

"should i really or-?" his whisper got interrupted by y/n pulling in him by the tie into the flat while theseus closed the door with his foot.

"so excited of being with me, huh?" he smirked, looking down at y/n who rolled her eyes and pulled her low heels off of her feet, waddling into her room.

theseus pulled his coat and shoes off, following after her and getting greeted by y/n sitting on her bed criss-cross, fiddling with her watch.

"are the walls thin here?" theseus asked, standing in front of y/n and her bed while y/n shook her head.

"good." he muttered and crashed his lips onto hers, y/n's hands letting her watch go and putting her hands behind her, steadying herself into the kiss.

theseus slowly crawled over her, his body between her legs as they began making out.

theseus' hand played with y/n's stockings and slid up under her skirt, his fingers softly teasing the cotton underwear, a moan escaping y/n.

"oh let me hear you, let ms. burrow hear you, my darling." theseus muttered into y/n's ear and his hand continued beneath the cotton.

masterlist

[itscherrylipsforme]

When were you planning to tell us?: Theseus Scamander x fem!reader

Summary: During their wedding your recently married friends can't stop asking questions about your "mysterious" husband. Little they know he is the same man who has been flirting with you during all the ceremony

Warnings: Drinking a little, I guess? But nothing else except that Jacob and Queenie being unaware of the world around them; Leta and Theseus ot being able to hide their chuckles; and Dumbledore being a funny smartass. Takes place after Dumbledore's secrets and in Au where Leta doesn't die and she wasn't enganged with Thesesus

Requested: yes

Words: Around 1130

Author rambles: This is kind of inspired in a wedding I attended a couple of years ago and the situation fitted quite well with the request

Masterlist Characters I write for

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ

I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗

Bright smiles, sparky eyes and some tears of pure happiness, that was a quick and accurate way to describe most weddings. Jacob’s and Queenie’s was not an exception to this. A small and intimate ceremony on the bakery, only family and friends attending, perfect for the couple union. While the bride and the groom, now wife and husband, were looking at each other with love-dove eyes, you and the rest of the guests were enjoying the sight.

“She looks beautiful today, even more that normally” You whispered to Theseus who was by your side leaning in the desserts table.

“I still believe you were prettier in your wedding” He replied a small grin playing on his lips.

“You are a charmer with words, Theseus Scamander” Your hands slowly moved to take two glasses of champagne, handing one of them to your companion.

“Only because you deserve it, darling” He took a quick sip of the pinkish beverage, which had been Queenie’s idea.

You would have scolded him for his smarmy antics if it wasn’t for your nosy friends who had been half-listening to your talk. Yeah, a small bakery was definitely not the best place to hold a private conversation. It wasn’t long until Mr and Mrs Kowalski came to your way with a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

“y/n you never told us you had been married, honey” Queenie sweet voice echoed in your ears. The realization hit you, you had been caught.

“Actually, I still am” Thesus couldn’t help but chuckle at your words.

“And who is the lucky man?” Jacob managed to speak while taking a bite from the nuptial cake “Do we know him?”

Theseus cheeks were starting to tint in a similar tone to his hair. You wondered how an auror like him, who has supposed to be calm and stern in every situation, couldn’t stop that grin from spreading on his face right now. Luckily for the two of you, Leta Lestrange, your best friend since your Hogwarts years (your guardian angel as you should call her from now on), appeared on the scene.

“What is the fuss for?” she joined the group and thanks to her endearing smile and her ability to put the focus on herself in every situation, you could enjoy a few seconds to think what would you say next. You were so relived thanks to her entry that you didn’t even get annoyed when she playfully stole your glass of champagne.

“y/n has just told us that she is married” The bride explained enthusiastically.

“Ohh…” Great, the last thing you needed right now was another person who couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. Surprisingly, she decided to play along. After all a little fun never hurt anyone “Of course she is, I was the bridesmaid”

“Leta…” You tried to interrupt her in order to finally reveal the truth.

“Wonderful!” Queenie clapped “So you can tell us more about that mysterious husband of hers”

“Yeah y/n, you never told us anything about him” Theseus took a sip of his drink and still he couldn’t hide his smirk.

Oh, he made a big mistake… Never play games with a girl who can play them better, Scamander. You should remind him that later.

“Well, he is the perfect gentleman. Sweet, chivalrous, caring…” You dreamingly looked at the celling “But also a little bossy, stubborn, touchy too. And he always overworks himself with his job to the point its annoying” Your audience was expectant to hear more about it. Theseus tried his best not to look slightly offended while Leta patted his back.

“But you love him, don’t you?” The older Scamander brother asked, his eyes shinning hopefully. One of the many things that made you fall for him since the first day.

“With every piece of my heart” Your gaze was locked in his.

That intimate moment which had somehow grown in a room full of people faded a wide the instance the door’s bell rang, announcing Tina’s and Newt’s arrival in the bakery. God knew what they had been talking about while the rest of you were enjoying the desserts.

“Guys, you will never guess what happened” Jacob said as soon as they came to his sight.

“Y/n is married!” Queenie announced as the sweet gossiper she was.

The young magizoologist’s eyes travelled back and forwards from yours and his brother’s face, clearly confused. The elder Goldstein sister just looked unaware, waiting for an explanation.

“Of course, she is” Newt finally broke the silence “I was the best man”

“You too?” Jacob said surprised “Are we the last ones to discover this?”

“I didn’t know until today either, Mr Kowalski. Although I have been having my suspicions since you two were students. You have never been good at hiding your feelings, Miss l/n”

Dumbledore laughed from the other side of the room where he was leaning on the wall absent-mindedly eating his piece of cake. A privileged position which he took advantage of to listen to the whole discussion.

“Or should I say Mrs Scamander now? Congrats anyway, thanks to your marriage Professor McGonagall owes me ten galleons now” Gasps of shock echoed between the bakery’s walls.

Your husband made himself comfortable, his hands now proudly around your waist in a gentle grip.

“Thanks Professor” he replied.

“When did you make it official if I can ask?”

“Just after he returned from the war. We wanted to keep it simple, Newt and Leta were the only guests” You softly squeezed your husbands hand.

“And when were you planning to tell us?”

“Jacob, sweetie, focus on what is important” His wife corrected him “Why didn’t you tell us?”

You two shrugged the question off. Being honest, you had never truly hidden your union, not intentionally at least. Theseus did not wear his ring on his finger, but in a necklace around his neck. Too afraid that he would lose it in a mission due to his work as an auror; so you decided to do the same. He didn’t keep the gesture of love low-key either. Always calling you pet names or protectively staying by your side. But it was true he did the same for Leta and his brother, and that kisses were always reserved for closed doors for unknown reasons. With those reasons, it was understandable that your friends hadn’t realized sooner you were in fact married. They just took you for an old friend duo. How wrong they were, but as no correction had been said before by either of you they were still ignorant of the fact.

As they say: “Actions speak louder than words” and that was exactly what your husband did. Arms tangled around your hip and lips that were leaning for a kiss which ended up in a resounding applause. In the next years you would receive endless teasing for it, but enjoying the moment you couldn’t care any less about it.

[love-bugsy]

good ol' gotham | jason todd

the worst thing about love

you’re just trying to get through your surgical residency, but this masked vigilante keeps showing up half-dead on your fire escape and reminding you of your dead best friend. oh well, at least he's cute.

two | three | four | series masterlist

content warnings: no editing, allusions to character death, (haphazard) depictions of grief, smoking + mentions of alcohol, swearing, completely ooc Jason bc he’s just my lil guy, medical terminology learned from greys anatomy lol

only jerks steal other people’s writing and mine isn’t even that good so no reposts

You and Jason sit across from each other in a diner booth, his restless leg bouncing under the table and your workaholic fingers tapping rhythms on the lacquer. The tired waitress who begged for your shift today brings over a plate of fries for you both, waving you off when you try to tip her. She gives your head an affectionate ruffle like she used to when you were 6, and you flush. As she goes to wait the next table, Jason laughs and says something about nepotism. You reach over and smack him.

He scoops up a heaping handful of fries, holding out his cigarette in his free hand so he can choke it down. He wipes his hands on his pants, taking another drag. You frown as your eyes dart between him and the ‘no smoking’ sign, glaring pointedly at the cigarette hanging half out of his mouth. He huffs, hiding a smile as he crushes the lit end on the underside of the table and flicks it into a nearby bin. You kiss your teeth, rolling your eyes but it’s entirely too fond to have any lasting effect. This damn boy’s got you wrapped around his battered fingers.

“Those’ll kill you, you know,” you huff, shoving a couple of fries in your mouth and basking in greasy diner heaven. Jason tilts his head, examining you, and snorts when you chuck a fry at his face. 

“So you tell me every time, and yet, miraculously, I’m still here.” He plucks the fallen fry out of his lap, not even brushing it off before he scarfs it down and reaches for another handful. You eye his hand, meant to shovel chips into his mouth but instead is littered with callouses and cigarette burns. It’s a stretching silence as you find your words.

“S’killing you slowly.”

“Lucky me.” He shoots you a toothy grin, leaning back into the booth, one hand laid out face-down on the table. The bruises on his knuckles are a motley of yellow and purple; your hand aches just looking at the scabs that litter the top of his hand. You’re sure he doesn’t feel it, though - he’s always healing, gaining new wounds before the old ones are finished scarring over. A veritable human ship of Theseus. 

His hand clenches into a fist under your gaze and you suddenly become very interested in the plate of fries between you. ‘M’not gonna stop,” he says, tone unyielding. You don’t know whether he’s talking about his smoking or the elephant-sized robin in the room. Probably both.

“But maybe you should.” You blurt out, and the way his face twists in anger makes you want to cover your mouth and hide. You hate how he clings to things - smoking, grudges, Robin - you think it’ll be the death of him one day. But you’re a hypocrite, because you love how he clings to you. Jason’s jaw feathers.

“Just fucking back off, okay?”, he snaps at you, and you go silent - you don’t want to have the same argument for the thousandth time. You study the way his eyes close and he sinks back into the chair - guilt washing away the enraged crease between his brows.

You forget - all the time - how angry he is, all of it built up under his rib cage. You think he gets scared to show it to you, like it’ll scare you away. For all his intelligence, Jason has yet to grasp the fact that you have Gotham in you too - spent your whole life atoning for the sin of your existence here. You’re angry too, of fucking course you are.

There’s no shortage of anger and fear and desperation in Gotham - they flood the gutters and hang dormant in the smog. Not many people choose to be kind here, it’s just too hard to. You think maybe your bleeding heart is at fault for how he tiptoes around you, but you wish he would just be honest. This diner, your friendship - it’s so far removed from the rest of his life… you wish he would stop treating you like a precious secret. 

“I-” You shake your head when he starts to apologise, waving your hand as if to clear the air between you.

“It’s forgotten,” you say, even though it never is. The tilt of his head reads you like an old book. Getting up, he rounds the table, shoving you further into the booth and looping an arm around your shoulders. Neither of you say anything - Jason reaching awkwardly for another chip - but the warm press of his side against yours is words enough. You shuffle - somehow - closer to him and take the hand that's over your shoulder, moving it delicately into your lap. You run careful circles around the bruises on his knuckles, trying to commit the warmth of him to memory. Trying to remember him while he’s still here. 

When you glance back at him, he’s looking at you with something wide and soft and world-ending in his eyes. The hand in your lap shifts around to thread your fingers together and he squeezes your hand almost uncomfortably. This boy, this fucking boy, who loves too much, too rough, too pure. “You can’t be real,” he whispers, and the diner melts away and all that’s left is his (blue blue blue) eyes and the way his hand holds yours like a lifeline. You hope you love him enough that it shows - that it spills out of the gaping seams of your stitched up heart. Clammy palms grip tighter to each other.

“I’m real, blue. This is real.”

“No. No,” he says, using your name in that careful, hard-edged tone he does when he’s serious, “It’s not.”

You wake gasping, shooting up in your bed as you try to catch your breath. Your hand crushes against your chest, trying to still your pounding heart. Fumbling in your sheets for your phone, you squint at the time. 4:02. You shuffle around, bare feet meeting hardwood floors and start to follow an unconscious morning routine - brain still foggy with sleep. It’s not until you’re wiping the steam off your bathroom mirror that you remember what day it is. The anniversary.

Reminders of Jason always hit you like a truck - blue mugs, cigarettes, hero complexes - but visiting his grave is another beast. You’re not one to let things get to you, moving too fast for anything to stick; but today is always cruel. In the entryway, you go back and forth between jackets, eventually yanking Jason’s old one from where it's hidden underneath all your others. Burying your face in the collar, you grab your keys and step into the biting Gotham wind. 

You take the metro up to the park by the Wayne Estate, stopping on the way to buy overpriced flowers and a travel sized bottle of whiskey. You stop outside the imposing gates - always closed but never locked - to take a shuddering breath. It’s never easier. 

Pushing open the rusted gate, you make the short trek up to the Wayne cemetery. Jason’s grave is a ways away from the others, hidden by an ancient sycamore tree. Autumn has come early this year, yellowing the sycamore’s leaves and burning your nose with the fresh scent of death. 

You really fucking hate this day.

It’s not the real anniversary of his death. You shudder to think about seeing Bruce Wayne here, and you doubt he’d even recognise you. Probably for the best. You’d tear him to pieces for existing when Jason is gone. No, today is the last time he left the diner - that’s the day Jason Todd died to you.

You remember staying up to watch the press conference Bruce Wayne gave after Jason’s death was reported. Sitting in a cold, empty diner, listening to his cold, empty responses, and grinding your teeth to bits. 

Wayne looks tired - beaten down, “No comment,” he says, when the questions steer to Jason. You’re furious that he could even bear to stay silent when you are tearing at the seams with things to say. Because Jason was kind, he was sharp as a whip and just as witty. And he was brash, and loud, and impulsive and full of a wild energy that hummed under the surface of his skin. And he was good. He was so good.

Somewhere between Wayne’s practised speech about the orphanage he’s opening in Jason’s name and his final statement, you mute the television and go back to washing dishes. It’s a herculean effort not to look up; waiting for Jason to start rambling about a book he’d read or someone he’d saved. You tuck your head down, avoiding the reminder that he was never going to keep you company again.

In the background, Bruce Wayne talks silently to a rapt audience.

And how they lauded him as Jason’s saviour - the homeless criminal turned social messiah by Wayne Enterprises. You want to scream; he was good already, he was good to the bone. But Gothamites - as much as they like to deny it - are obsessed with the idea of heroes. In a city of the uber wealthy and the poorest of the poor - everybody wants someone to save them. Big Brucie Wayne swooping in to reform a Gotham bottom-feeder? That’s a story everyone was taken by.

The crunch of a leaf underfoot pulls you out of your head and you realise you’re standing in front of Jason’s grave. Sitting yourself down, cross-legged, you face the grave; whiskey in one hand and flowers in the other. 

You’ve never liked his headstone. No pretentious quotes, no sardonic digs from beyond the grave. Just a dry, impersonal epitaph, etched permanently in his name: ‘In memory of Jason Peter Todd, loving son’.

You think he would’ve hated being reduced to someone’s son. You don’t think he was anyone’s anything. He was Gotham’s. He was yours. He was Batman’s. And then he was dead.

He was never any of those things at the same time. And he was certainly no one’s son. 

He was loving, though. You’ll give ‘em that.

“Well,” you say, unscrewing the bottle and downing half of it with a grimace, “Cheers, blue.” Nearly a decade and you still hate the taste of whiskey. You’d both made a pact that it would be your first legal drink - both with romantic ideas about what it would taste like. To you, it really just tastes like soap; but tradition is tradition. You reach out, brushing the thin layer of dirt that’s gathered over his headstone, eyes catching on the crude little bird carving in the top right corner. 

You’d carved it into his headstone the first year after he died; spent the whole year silently aching - haunted by empty space, reaching for him only to find air. That night was just the breaking point. It hadn’t helped that you were drunk off your ass either. 

You remember being miserably sick the next morning and - as you rested your head on the cool porcelain of your toilet - feeling selfishly satisfied that you were hurting at all. Visiting him early is selfish for you too. You want them to know you loved him first. You want them to know that somewhere, there is someone who mourns him into ruin. 

Or at least, into vandalism.

Now you drop the flowers on his grave - chrysanthemums and white lilies - and sweep away a stray fallen leaf. Crouched in front of his grave, you press your fingers to your lips, then to the bird. You feel the throb of a lump in your throat, and stand up fully, zipping up your jacket. The train home is loud and sweaty, but you feel more alone than ever.

You need a smoke.

~

Your apartment door is barely locked before you’re sliding up your window and ducking out onto the fire escape. Digging around in the pockets of Jason’s jacket, you fumble for your lighter, and the pack of cigarettes you’d bought on the way home. 

You lean over your fire escape railing, lighting up and taking a long drag. It’s a rare clear night in Gotham, and you close your eyes as you breathe out, listening to the faint, familiar whine of sirens. This. This is why you’ll never leave Gotham—these rare serene moments where you’re brought back down to earth by the familiar smell of rain and pavement; an early-Autumn breeze ruffling your hair.

Your moment of peace is interrupted when Red Hood swings down onto your fire escape, and you startle, dropping your - still-lit - cigarette over the railing. 

“Fuck!” You lean over the railing as if you’ll be able to catch it, letting your head fall against the cool metal in defeat. “Please tell me you don’t need stitches tonight,” you grumble, head still hung over the railing. A hand grasps the back of your shirt, pulling you - a little roughly - away from the edge. Your eyes flash up to his mask, only to find him looking away.

“No stitches.” He shifts uncomfortably. “I… I’m not- injured.” Your brow creases.

“Then… why are you here?” He pauses. If you hadn’t been slowly learning him over the past few months, you’d mistake his silence for stoicism, but his shoulders are drawn up slightly and his gaze is focused on a spot just above your head. He seems… sheepish? No. Caught. He clears his throat—hand in the cookie jar.

“I just…,” long pause, “Drop by sometimes. To check you’re… you know.” You do not know. You raise a brow and he nods over at the pack of cigarettes balancing on the railing.

“I’ve never seen you smoke before.” Not exactly a seamless subject change, but you know better than to pry when the other person has guns strapped to their thighs. Your eyes drift to the cigarettes, and back to Red.

“Only when I’m stressed.” He does that head tilt-y thing—trying to read you. 

“Something more stressful than surgery on a stranger in your apartment?” You just hum, turning away and reaching for another cigarette. Lighting it, you hold the pack out to Red as you take another drag and exhale. He shakes his head, “Quit a long time ago, doc.” Your surprise must paint itself all over your face because he laughs lowly, rasping out his response.

“Had a friend who hated it.”

Brows creasing, you tilt your head, appraising him in a quiet once-over. “You don’t seem like the type to change for anyone, Red.” Somehow he stiffens and relaxes at the same time; you get the sense that the answer to your observation is just as paradoxical, equal parts right and wrong.

“Yeah well, she was…” He trails off, gaze drifting from you and shoulders sinking. He looks… lost. Watching him feels like you’re intruding on a private moment, so you turn away, leaning heavily on the railing. You take another long drag of your cigarette and exhale the smoke into the wind.

“Was that you? The sirens?”     

He huffs, railing creaking as he settles next to you. “Yeah. Some asshole trying to rob a mom-and-pop store.” You kiss your teeth in mirrored disappointment, nose wrinkling.

“Good ol’ Gotham.” You feel his gaze boring into you and make a point to glare defiantly out at the skyline - avoiding him. The hand that isn’t keeping a loose grip on your cigarette begins to scratch anxiously at the rust on the railing. 

Red points vaguely at your cigarette, “What’s your stressor?” Without really noticing it, you clench your jaw and your hand moves halfway up to your mouth before you stop it. Old habits quelled by memories of bleeding nails bitten to the quick. You realise you’ve waited too long to spout a believable lie.

“Visited my friend’s grave.” You don’t even bother to school your voice, letting it claw its way across shards of glass to be heard.

“‘M sorry.” Red’s head inclines slightly, gloved hand inching towards yours. You just shrug.

“It’s been nearly ten years.” 

“Doesn’t make it easier.” He tells you and you know it isn’t false platitudes. Death is an old friend of the both of you. 

You pause, letting the city rush over you. “No,” you say finally, “It doesn’t.” Reaching again for your cigarette, you feel the weight of the day prickling at the backs of your eyes. The railing creaks as he leans heavier against it.

“Tell me about them.” 

“What?” 

“Your friend.”

You take a deep breath, brows knit, “He was…,” you roll your lips together, trying not to choke up, “Reckless.” Red snorts, hanging his head in surprised amusement. You smile for the first time all day. “I swear danger followed him around or something, I was always having to patch him up, even before—“ You cut yourself off, white-knuckling the railing. 

“He’s the reason I’m a doctor.” There’s a thick silence, which Red breaks with a staticky whistle. 

“You’re something else, doc.” Your brows knit, fingers drumming on the railing. The cold seeps into your bones, fire escape creaking with every gust of wind. Looking out over the city, you shake your head at nobody.

“I’m…” you swallow, dislodging the breath stuck in your throat, “I’m tired.” You fumble for the right words and Red waits, turning his back on the skyline, mask angled down.

Shaky hand brings your cigarette to your lips, breathing out a cloud of smoke. “So much of me is him… I don’t know—“ your voice cracks, “No one can help me carry the love he left me with. I don’t know where it goes.”

More silence—you’re starting to get comfortable with it. He lifts his head, and you think he might talk, instead, he carefully pulls off a glove, shoving it in his pocket so he can run a warm, calloused palm over your upper arm. You choke up at the gesture, gritting your teeth against the lump in your throat when your eyes catch on his bruised knuckles. Haven’t we been here before?

“Think ya just get bigger around it, doc.” Blinking at him, you dissolve into tears—a dam held in since this morning. Embarrassed, you close your eyes, tears running, unbidden, down your cheeks. 

Red’s mask pulls back slightly in shock, “Fuck, sorry, m’not good at this, don’t—” He flounders a little, hand gripping your arm with a ferocity you know is unconscious. The physicality of the action steadies you.

“I’m not—” you huff out a wet laugh, “It’s not you, I just… you lose someone and everything you used to share becomes a sign. My life is marked by a ghost.”

“Fingerprints.”

“… yeah.” You crush your half-smoked cigarette against the railing, flicking it over the edge. You stand, awkwardly, next to each other; neither of you wanting to leave but both empty of words. Your hands tap nervously on the railing and you shove them in your pockets - if only to have something to do with them. Pulling out your lighter, you flick it on and off absently, watching the flame flicker under your control.

The lighter distracts you for a little, but soon you realise that Red has gone rigid beside you; the silence between you just slightly too thick. You shoot him an inquisitive glance, trying to gauge what he’s thinking.

“Nice lighter.” he says, gaze locked on the bird etched into it. Your brows furrow.

“It’s not really mine.” The truth, if obfuscated a little.

“Is it… a robin?” You shake your head, a little laugh escaping you at how bad your etching job must’ve been.

“A bluejay.” The second the words leave your mouth, he goes still - so still you’re unsure if he’s still breathing. “Red?”

“Blue?” You wave a hand in front of his face, shaking him out of a thousand yard stare into his coffee mug. “Earth to Jason Todd.” He shoots you a flat look and watches as your face breaks into a world-ending laugh. Leaning forward, he raps bruised knuckles against the counter. You shake your head to hide the split second of worry in your eyes at the sight of his hands. Jason notices.

“So why do you call me blue?” He says, trying to innocuously tuck his hands back under the table. You huff, clumsy hands dropping the dish you’re washing in the sink with a clatter. You lean on the edge of the sink, collecting yourself before you answer.

“Why do you call me birdie?” 

“‘Cause you’re small. ‘Nd you got a pretty voice.” He must imagine the bashful way you tuck your head into your shoulder. Like you liked that.

Picking up the plate you dropped, you rinse and dry it, letting him stew in your lack of answer for a little. “It's a play on words.” Jason’s brows knit, trying to think of the connection you’d conjured. “Blue. Like blue jay.”

“Ha ha.” 

“I’m serious.”

His brows crease. “Why a bird?” (Why not a robin?)

You give him a funny look, eyes squinted like you’re reading his mind. You always seem to know what he’s thinking. Jason shifts in the barstool; feathers ruffled. 

“It’s just a nickname, Jay.” Jason knows you; he knows the word ‘just’ doesn’t have a place in your vocabulary. But he spots the tiny crease in your brow, your red raw hands, the single knot on your apron in place of a double knot—reads your language. He takes a swig of coffee from his baby blue mug, grinning toothily before he changes the subject. 

~

Bruce’s office door is closed when Jason returns to Wayne Manor, so Jason finds himself roaming the halls aimlessly. His feet carry him to the library—he still has to stand in awe every time he wanders between the statuesque shelves, spilling over with books. 

Slipping further into the maze of shelves, Jason doesn’t quite know what he’s looking for until he spots it. His fingers graze an untouched ornithology book, sliding it into his lap. Cross-legged on the floor, Jason flips it open to the chapter on blue jays.

... so i'm not dead, lol, and I am still writing - albeit very slowly and sporadically. the past few months have been very hectic, but I'm going to have a lot more writing time now that my first term of uni (!!) is nearly over. anyway, sorry to keep you guys waiting and I hope you enjoy reading my silly story :)

with love, bugsy

[proxycrit]

Elesa climbs to celestial tower to ring the bell. Emmet, stuck in between the distortion world, finds his way home.

Part 1/ Part 2

The conductor falls, down, down, down.

“What’s my name?” He calls to the abyss in terror (what is terror?)

He’s a singular being, right? (That’s not right. He’s one of a pair.)

The abyss gazes back. It has no answers to give, in its multitude.

Not to someone that’s so, so alone.

———

Somewhere else, one Elesa of Nimbasa rings the Celestial Tower’s Bell, over and over. Her companion, Chandelure, keeps watch.

Nothing happens.

Elesa’s stomach sinks. The reverberations of Celestial Tower’s brass bell mocks her in its echo. The vibrations of it’s distortion only makes the tears she tries to hold at bay worse.

In the blur of her failure, she sees chandelure’s flames suddenly die. Part of her panics.

The rest of her is apathetic and numb.

What’s the point? It didn’t work. Elesa closes her eyes. Tries to swallow, and fails. She’s so tired. She’s so, so tired. The deal with Azelf, the media storm she’s weathered, the constraints of her job, the almost loss of chandelure-

Emmet has been gone for three months. Ingo has been gone even longer.

They have gone where she can’t follow.

Elesa, the ghost whispers in her head. Elesa shakes her head in denial. She doesn’t want to plan right now. She wants to curl into herself, and disappear, just for a bit.

Elesa!

“I can’t do this,” she croaks. The sob in the back of her throat bubbles outwards. She wants Zebrstika. She wants Skyla. She wants her friends.

The paliphet Azelf forced her forward. It permeates her thoughts, drowning out logical thought.

(Too much willpower, and it will become an obsession, Azelf had warned her once in Ingo’s voice. And then, in Emmet’s voice: And when you fail, it willll break you. And finally, in her own voice: you will not have a choice but to move forward, with this curse.

I accept, elesa and told it back in the lake.)

I’m so tired, Elesa thinks now, two months later.

But she keeps moving forward. The bell rings again as Elesa strikes it, with all the hurt and rage and longing forced by her own hand into her soul-

-And that’s when chandelure screams, and there is a terrible rolling crack, and Elesa feels the sudden lurch in her gut as she looks up, her apathy torn into shreds as-

The sky tears open in a fractal wave.

Elesa gapes.

She can not comprehend the sudden black webbing across the sky. In the distance, sirens suddenly start wailing as people stop to perceive the impossible.

But Elesa does not care, because in that moment, the wrench in her gut is so great she almost staggers off the platform. Chandelure is by her side in an instant, her glass body a warm comfort to the sudden chill, because-

Something white is falling.

Elesa’s doesn’t know what she yells. But the tug in her chest feels like the beat of a drum, and she is helpless to the melody that calls for action.

Azelf’s blessed takes a leaping step forward, off the building. Chandelure lets out a panicked chime and the warmth of psychic cradles Elesa as she reaches out, arms outstretched, falling and flying and-

And Emmet, sparking with white electricity, reaches back.

NOTES:

AU’s Salvaging the Ship of Theseus! Everybody has a Bad Time. (Emmet and Eelektross go to Hisui and learn about the joys of the distortion world. Elesa hunts legends and makes bad deals. Ingo babysits some sneaslets.)

Backstory and explanation:

Prior this scene, Emmet was travelling Hisui with Eelektross before he falls through a mirror and becomes lost in the distortion world for a month. Elesa and Chandelure, meanwhile, refuse to give up on their remaining friend. (Ingo’s fine! He’s in Hisui right now trying to get fired so he can go searching for his memories. Eelektross is… less fine. We will Worry about That Later.)

Disclaimers: Everything’s a work in progress and subject to change!

Part 2!

[oncasette]

𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐂. send in a character + a scenario for a blurb + 𝗨𝗠𝗕𝗥𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗔

ok theseus request!!!!! what about some hurt/comfort, maybe him reacting to you crying? + [ CUP ]:  bringing both hands up to cup the receiver’s face, the sender draws them in closer to them in order to get a better look at their face. (I feel like this prompt fits the scenario perfectly so yeah <3)

𝗦𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗧 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥, 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗’𝗩𝗘 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗘 𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥

summary: 1.7k

It’d been all his stupid idea, one you vehemently wanted to run away from. One that struck fear up your spine like lightning and sent fire licking at the base of your skull. An idea that, now, led you to be standing outside his old flat’s front door with ice-cold rain sticking your clothes to your skin and hot tears streaming down your cheeks hours after he’d left you reeling in your own flat. 

or the three times theseus asked you to move in with him and the one time you asked.

warnings: implied smut

masterlist | taglist

Moving in with Theseus hadn’t been your idea. It’d been his. Totally, completely, and unarguably his idea. One he’d spent weeks, at this point, convincing you to go through with. An idea you’d initially been so adamant about turning down. But he was nothing if not persistent. 

He’d presented you with a key the first night he’d asked. Just a key, warm from where he’d kept it in his coat pocket pressed tight against his chest over the course of his work day. He’d dug it out of the jacket that had been hastily tossed off to the floor near the side of the bed when you’d nearly jumped his bones after he’d apparated back to his flat. You’d already been home–his home, that is–snuggled up in his bed with a cup of tea and a sleep shirt he’d had since his seventh year. 

“What’s this?” you asked as he’d handed it to you. His hands shook, and he’d been grateful you failed to make a comment on it. 

“A key,” he hummed as you took it. 

“But… Thes, I already have a key to your place?” Your eyebrows knitted across your forehead as your statement quirked into a question. 

“I know,” he said. “My lease comes up in a month and I…”

You brought a hand up to the side of his jaw, urging him to continue as his lips pressed kisses to your palm. 

“I know yours does, too. A week after mine, but I was hoping you’d think about letting it.”

It’s a wonder it hadn’t clicked for you yet. His beautiful, bright girl that amazed him every day, who was making him spell out this question for her, letter by letter, while his heart threatened to give out in his chest. 

“Letting it do what?” you asked. 

“Run out,” he exhaled. Merlin, his lungs felt heavy. 

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” you asked, hand dropping to your side as you sat up fully. You brought the top sheet with you, covering the skin Theseus had spent the last hour and a half marking with his teeth. His eyes burned as he followed your movement and leaned his back against the headboard. 

“I’d been trying to, yes,” he said. 

“Don’t you think it’s a little… I don’t know,” you swallowed, throat dry with a lack of an answer. “Fast?”

“Love, we’ve been together for nearly two years. I thought–”

He’d been cut off with your legs being thrown over the edge of the bed, feet scrambling to hold your body up as your hands reached for the clothes you’d been wearing earlier in the evening. 

“I can’t.” With your eyes screwed shut, you tugged your slip back up over your body and crossed the room to grab the shirt you’d come to his flat in–not the one of his you’d been wearing when he’d come home, a sight that has his jaw aching. It’d taken you a minute longer to find your wand, white knuckling it as you pressed a kiss to your boyfriend’s hairline. You were gone within the minute, with the key left at the foot of the bed.

He hadn’t even had the chance to move from the spot you’d left him in. 

He’d left it alone enough after that, though his heart had ached each time his hand passed over the weight of the key he still kept in his pocket. 

The second time he’d asked–more insinuated, this time–had been at breakfast two weeks later, thankfully, in a less vulnerable state of dress. 

“I saw the flat yesterday,” he said, though his eyebrows were raised with the hint that there was more lingering under that statement than you’d wanted. “Unfurnished, that is. I saw it a couple weeks ago when I bought it and everything, but I saw it for the first time since I’d signed the lease on it yesterday.”

“Theseus.”

“Look, I know. I know.” He drew his fist tight as he inhaled. “I know you think it’s too fast, darling.”

“Then why are you doing this?” you asked. 

You weren’t even sure why you were fighting it this hard at this point anymore. It was all you’d thought about since he’d asked the first time. And you weren’t going to lie, you’d warmed to the idea. Not that you were ready to admit that, apparently.

He brought your hand up to gently lay kisses on your knuckles. “Just come see it with me, yeah?”

You offered him a pointed look. “Don’t have to make any snap decisions,” he assured you. “Even though I’m desperately hoping that you will.”

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Okay?”

“I’ll go look at the flat with you,” you said. 

He’d been so eager, the smile he’d given you had been enough to allow him to convince you to stop by the next morning. 

It was a lovely flat, honestly. It had a kitchen large enough to house an island, a bedroom much bigger than you’d been anticipating, and a view that had you fully leaning out the window to get a better look at. And, it was a five minute walk away from your office. A fact Theseus had mentioned thirty seconds into your initial walkthrough. A walkthrough that had unsurprisingly consisted of all the reasons Theseus had picked the place. Or, better worded, all the reasons Theseus thought the place would be a perfect fit for you. For the both of you. 

“The living room’s the perfect size for your couch, you know. I was thinking you’d want to bring it along if you ever ended up here since you spent so long picking it out and everything…”

“Thes, it’s beautiful. It really is,” you said, stepping closer to him as you watched the corners of his lips twitch into a grin. 

He fully bridged the gap then, hands falling to your hips to tug you into his chest. “So?”

“I’ll think about it,” you hummed and he leaned down to kiss you fully. 

“Improvement,” he said. “I’ll take it.”

The next couple days had been a constant barrage of dropped hints. It felt like you’d been suffocated beneath the weight of the question, one that hadn’t been asked in its entirety since that first night. 

He’d been halfway through one of his… less subtle hints when you snapped. All you’d wanted was time. A bit of time. A tiny, miniature, speck of time to organize your thoughts, and he’d given you just short of what you’d needed. 

The key had been dangling from his fingers, for Merlin’s sake, and it took all the strength in your body not to snatch it out of his hands and throw it out the window of your own flat, the one the two of you were currently curled up in. 

“Stop it!” you spat. “I said I would think about it, right. I can’t think about anything with the way you’re keeping this up.”

He stalled, fingers wrapping around the gold key to hide it from view. His jaw snapped closed as your own clenched. 

“I’m sorry, I just…” you sighed. 

“No, I get it. I’ll give you some more time,” he said, a crack of thunder in the distance rumbling overhead as you watched him pull away from you to gather the few belongings he’d brought with him. 

He left with little more than a muttered goodbye as he slipped out the door. Not even a kiss, one you’d been hopeful enough to think would come despite your current situation. 

It’d been all his stupid idea, one you vehemently wanted to run away from. One that struck fear up your spine like lightning and sent fire licking at the base of your skull. An idea that, now, led you to be standing outside his old flat’s front door with ice-cold rain sticking your clothes to your skin and hot tears streaming down your cheeks hours after he’d left you reeling in your own flat. 

You knock on the door with feeble fingers, toes curling in your shoes as your socks meld to the skin of your feet. You wait a minute. Two minutes, nearly three before he throws open the door with only a pair of trousers on. 

“What are you-” he cuts himself off. “My love, are you crying?”

You barely manage out a shake of your head, a piss poor attempt at a lie, as a shiver rumbles through your torso. 

“Come here, come inside,” he steps aside enough to let you in. He shuts the door once you’re inside, immediately tugging you into his chest where the warmth of his skin does wonders to calm the tremors wracking through you. Both of his hands come up to cup your cheeks, drawing your face into his direct gaze no matter how much you want to shove your nose into his neck and hide from his worrying eyes. 

“What is it, darling?” His eyes scan your face as his hands hold the weight of your head up under your jaw. His thumb clears a tear off your cheek before it has the chance to fall. “C’mon, love. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Please let me live with you,” you sniffle, hands coming up to grasp at the waistband of his pants. The way you’re clinging to him feels desperate, like he’d slip away if you managed to let go. 

“What?”

“I’m so sorry I let it go on this long. I’m sorry I ever made you think I don’t want this, want you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” you sob. “Please let me live with you.”

“I thought you wanted-”

“I thought I did, too,” you hiccup, and Theseus has to fight to hide the smile that’s working its way up his face. “But, then I realized what I really wanted was you. This. All of you.”

“You have me. You’ve always had me darling, promise,” he says. “And obviously I want you to live with me… but are you sure?”

You nod. 

“I need to hear you say it, lovely. You’ve kind of been fighting me on this since day one,” he says. “I’m sure,” you say. 

[muxshwriting]

we always do...

Theseus Scamander x reader

summary: theseus and his wife may have very conflicting views on war, but they'll never go to bed angry and never leave the other in danger || warnings: fighting, violence || word count: 1567 || masterlist

REQUESTED by @malvikareader: Can you please write a Thesues Scamander x reader fic from your imagination (my minds not working as of now)

You often disagreed with your husbands job. Not in theory, because being an auror is an honourable and noble career. But in practise, the ministry was throwing him recklessly into a war and not to capture dark wizards. You knew that you couldn't stop Theseus from fighting, the reckless and caring man he is. But you wanted him to stay alive, even if it meant arguing with him about safety and trying to get him to take care of himself before running into danger to help others.

"Why do you have to go and fight?"

"I'm the head of aurors." Theseus said incredulously.

"You don't deserve to fight and die in this war just because you're an auror. You didn't sign up to be a soldier."

He shrugged. "Sometimes that's what the world needs."

You nod, seemingly finished with the disagreement before continuing to speak. "Where's you brother?"

"What?"

"He's sent us a letter," You hold up said letter for Theseus to see. "He's put together a haphazard alliance to try and singlehandedly take down Grindelwald. An alliance he implies you already knew about. Are you and Newt insane, Theseus? Have you been checked?"

Theseus chuckled slightly at your words. "Darling, Newt only told me about his team today. The letter arrived later than expected. I'm going to try and stop him from getting himself killed."

"Then I'm going to stop you from being killed." You declare.

"I'm not going to be killed, Y/N."

"You're throwing yourself into a suicide mission and I can't let you do it alone. Look-"

Theseus pulled you into his arms. "I know. I know." He comforts. "We'll get through this together, right?"

You give him a watery smile. "We always do."

"We always do." He agrees, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead and then your lips.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, your hands fidgeting in your lap as you start to realise what the future may hold for you and your husband. Slowly, you're realising the harrowing weight of your new quest and the increasing likelihood of an outcome that involves death.

"Have you got something on your mind?" Theseus asks softly.

"Besides the obvious, no." You glance out of the window, unable to look him in the eyes. "I love you Theseus."

He replies in earnest. "I love you too."

★--~-~--★

The crowd shouts as Newt leads you all through the German Ministry of Magic. Theseus' hand has a firm grip on yours, keeping you close to him and trying to keep you safe. You stay by his side as Newt tries to pass on his message to Vogel. The Supreme Mugwump steps up to make his final speech, beginning normal and then starting to take a more sinister turn.

Newcomers begin to slink into the room, a few faces recognisable from Paris. They're Grindelwald's followers, meaning that this tea party in Berlin won't end as calmly as you hoped it would. The three of you follow the newcomers as they weave through the crowd, being watched as you do this and almost taunted by them.

"... insufficient evidence exists to prosecute Gellert Grindelwald for the crimes against the muggle community of which he was accused." The Supreme Mugwump pardons Grindelwald of all his crimes as Theseus approaches his followers, attempting to place them under arrest.

One sneaks up behind you and a wand presses against your temple. Your body freezes in place as you try to see who has you under threat. The shift of your head had the wizard behind you wrapping his arm around your neck to hold you in place.

"Theseus!" Before he could reply, Theseus is hit with a spell he never saw coming and drops to the ground. The crowd began to thin as people didn't want to be involved and swiftly left the room. You begin to struggle against his grip, trying to fight back but an utterance is heard and the world goes black.

When the world comes back into view, the first thing you realise is that you're upside down. Secondly, your hands and ankles are bounded together and chained to the ceiling of the dank cell you find yourself in. Thirdly, you're alone. Theseus is nowhere to be seen but you can hear the chinking of chains to your right.

"Theseus?"

The clinking stopped. "Hello? Y/n, is that you?"

"Theseus!" At least you weren't in this prison alone. "Are you alright?"

"I think so?" The answer came out as a question. "I'm upside down for some reason."

You can't hold back your laugh, imagining your husband strung up by his ankles and swinging in his cell. "Me too. I think the blood is getting to my head."

Theseus sighed. "Yeah. Are you alright though? You aren't hurt?"

"I'm alright." You reply. "Can't wait to get out of here, but alright."

The two of you hang together for many hours, drifting in and out of consciousness as the blood rush become too much at times. You're awoken to someone calling Theseus' name and getting closer.

"Rescuing us are you?" Theseus tries to joke.

"That's the general idea!" Newt replies, edging closer. You see he's being followed by a large consortium of crabs, all copying the bizarre way he is walking.

"Is this a strategic move or do you just like to walk like that sometimes Newt?" You ask him.

Newts shrugs slightly. "It's called limbic mimicry, supposed to discourage violent engagement."

"Supposed to?" Theseus asks.

"Theoretically. I've only attempted it once before with inconclusive results." He continues to ramble about his experiment as he now faces Theseus.

A giant tail sprouts from the central darkness to assess the space next to Newt. The three of you freeze in place, Newt dodging the tail. A few levels down, a firefly lamp goes out and the prisoner screams. The tail retracts and a stinger takes it's place, aiming directly for the screaming prisoner and dragging him down into the depths.

In the chaos of the smaller crabs, Newt cut Theseus down and moved on to sever your bonds as well. You dropped to the floor, angling your body so you'd land on your side and shoulder instead of your head.

"Thanks Newt." You sarcastically say, pulling yourself to your feet and moving towards Theseus. Newt was once again focused on the crabs, who were interested in you all again.

"And the plan is?" Theseus asks.

Instead of answering, Newt cupped his hands to his face and blew, letting a whistle-like noise echo throughout the prison.

"Uh Newt? That's not a plan."

"We're gonna need some help." He suddenly struck up his pose to 'discourage violent engagement' and the crabs copied him without hesitation. After the exchange of some heavy looks, you and Theseus copied him and began to the slow ascent to the exit.

Just as you neared the top, Theseus stepped on one of the crabs, crushing it. Before any of you could say a word, the lamp began to flicker in and out and the distinct rumbling of the giant creature began. The tail popped up from the darkness and the trio ran. As you weaved through narrow stone corridors, the creature's tail crashed through walls just behind, hunting for it's prey. It began to shoot poison from it's stinger that was so strong it melted stone.

You and Theseus were separated as you tried to avoid the flying poison and the onslaught of regular crabs which had reappeared. The number of appendages that the creature had seemed to only grow as they appeared in every direction, hunting for you.

As a limb reached toward you, you jump over a different limb and continue to run. Spotting Theseus in the corner of your eye, you make a beeline towards him and almost crash into him as you slowed, Newt joining you. You all took off down yet another hallway as the rocks collapsed behind you, separating the creature from the group. Or so you thought.

Before you had a second to breathe, the creature had wrapped an arm around your waist, squeezing you and pulling you backwards. Theseus called out your name, grasping your hands in his and trying to keep you close. Newt tries to help but Theseus' grip falters for a moment and you slide closer to the edge.

Out of nowhere, Pickett appears with Newt's wand and you all fall into the pit before apparatting out of that godforsaken place.

Your back slams onto forest floor, limb still wrapped around your waist. The feel of it repulses you as you try to squirm your way out and push it off of you. Theseus pulls it off as it continues to move and wriggles away through the leaves.

Now on your feet, your hands are batting off and dirt and leaves stuck to you, still convinced you were being crushed by the creature. Your heartbeat is pounding in your ears and your hands have a slight shake to them. Theseus gently approaches, grasping your hands in his and staring into your soul.

"You're alright. It's over. We're safe."

"We got through it." You mutter, stumbling into his arms.

Theseus melted in your embrace, dropping his head onto your shoulder. "We always do."

"We always do..." You whispered back like a mantra, a prayer that you both would and a promise that you did.

[justanoasisimagines]

Fluff Alphabet

Requests are open! Request guidelines are pinned to the top of the page! Credit to @cafekitsune for the banner and the divider

A = Affection - How afectionate are they? Do they like recieving affection etc?

Theseus is moderately affectionate with you. He's going to kiss you in a greeting and goodbye. He likes to hold your hand. Theseus likes to receive attention from you. He enjoys knowing he has you to seek affection from you. For example, when he's up late working on paperwork and you press a kiss to his cheek.

B = Bathing - Do they like to bathe or shower alone? What's it like to share a bath or shower with him?

Theseus enjoys taking a bath with you. It allows you to catch up, to talk about your respective days while soaking in the bath. Theseus even reheats the bath if it gets too cold. He likes to rest in the tub tracing lines over your body. It's the perfect time for you both to relax.

C = Cooking - Can they cook? Do they like to cook? Would they cook for you? What type of dishes would they like to cook?

Theseus loves to cook, it's one of the ways he relaxes. Theseus has a range of cookbooks in his kitchen. Whenever he gets the opportunity. Theseus will try cooking, a new recipe so you can try it together. Cooking for you could be considered as one of Theseus's love languages.

D = Dates - What type of dates would they like to go on? Do they like to plan dates? Be taken on dates? How frequently is date night? etc Theseus likes to take you out for dinner. He also likes to take you to the movies and late-night walks. He likes to plan date nights. Sometimes his work schedule gets in the way. He's going to make time for date nights. He tries to make a date night at least once a week if it's possible.

E = Effort - How much effort do they put in? How do they show their efforts? Are they either an all out or all in kind of person?

When you both become serious, Theseus is one hundred percent in. He's going to send you flowers when he's busy with work. He's going to try to see you even if it's for a little while. Also when it comes to your relationship Theseus is always thinking about your future.

F = Family - Do they want to have children? What would family life look like? How many children do they want? etc?

Theseus wants the family life. he wants to get married, he wants to settle down. It's one of the reasons he works so hard so he can provide for the life he wants. Theseus would want between two and four children. Although Newt and himself aren't particularly close he'd want his children to have siblings.

G = Gentleman/Lady - How much of a gentleman/lady would they be? Would they hold out doors for you? Pull out your chair? Walk on the road side? etc

Theseus would consider himself a gentleman. He brings you flowers, opens up doors for you and always pulls you out chairs for you. He's protective and willing to provide you with whatever you need.

H = Honeymoon - Where would they like to go on honeymoon? What would it look like? etc

Theseus would plan to take you somewhere warm for your honeymoon. He'd plan for lounging on the beach, relaxing in the sun. You'd both go swimming and enjoy the new surroundings. It's a time for you both to enjoy the first few days of married life while taking time off work.

I = I love you - How long would it take them to fall in love with you? How would they confess? Is it a big deal to them etc?

It would take several months for Theseus to fall in love with you. What makes Theseus realize he's falling in love with you is a moment. One day he notices something different about his feelings. He knows then how deep his feelings go for you. It's a big moment for him to say I love you, although it is subtle.

J = Jealously - How easily do they get jealous? What makes them jealous? How do they react when your jealous? etc,

Theseus is not easily jealous. To make Theseus jealous it needs to be someone persistent. They need to keep crossing boundaries. They need to ignore your relationship and continue to pursue you. This leads Theseus to be jealous. He's quick to remind someone you're together and nothing is going to change that.

K = Kisses - What kisses are they more likely to give? What kisses do they like to recieve? etc

Giving; Forehead kisses, cheek kisses, temple kisses, neck kisses, i missed you kisses, lazy kisses.

Receiving; Good morning/ Good night kisses, smiley kisses, jawline kisses, reassuring kisses,

L = Love Language - What's their love language(s)? What languages are they most receptive to?

Theseus's love languages would be acts of service and gift-giving. He wants to do things for you to prove how much he loves you. He believes words can be used casually, yet actions reinforce the intention. Also regarding gift-giving, gifts can be thoughtful and memory-provoking. Buying you your favorite flowers can show he's listened. buying you a random trinket that may appear obscure to someone can reflect a memory or a private joke between the two of you.

M = Marriage - Do they want to get married? What would being married to them look like? Do they want a large or small wedding? etc

Theseus does want to get married. He doesn't want a massive wedding ceremony something small with your nearest and dearest. Theseus would be a dotting husband, always wanting to do right by you. He'd want to learn and grow with you as you move into different phases of your life together.

N = Nicknames - What nicknames would they use for you? Do you give any to them?

Nicknames for you; Love, Beautiful, Sweetheart and Honey

O = Obvious - How obvious are they? What gives them away? Their face or actions?

Theseus attempts to deny his obviousness. However, to everyone else it's obvious. It's the tenderness in the way he looks at you. The way his eyes can never leave you when you enter a room. He's more protective and considerate around you. Theseus smiles more and his happiness appears to generally improve.

P = Public Displays of Affection - Do they enjoy PDA? How comfotable are they with PDA?

Theseus is okay with moderate affection. He's more reserved when he's in public, however, he's still going to hold your hand and press a kiss to your temple. His reserved nature makes those affectionate moments between you more special and intimate.

Q = Quality Time - How do they like to spend quality time with you? How do they make time? Can they communicate effectively when they need quality time with you?

Theseus is always wanting to spend quality time with you, regardless of how that may look. Even if it's relaxing at home. It could be for half an hour during both of your lunch breaks. Theseus is good at finding those pockets of time. One of his skills however is communication. If he doesn't believe you're seeing enough of each other he's going to vocalise it.

R = Romantic - Do they consider themselves romantic?

Theseus would consider himself romantic. He knows how to plan romantic dinners and dates. He likes to bring you flowers home. It doesn't matter how long the two of you have been together, he'll still treat it as if you're dating.

S = Security - Do they feel secure in your relationship? What would they do if they didn't feel secure?

Theseus does feel secure in your relationship. He wouldn't be with you if he didn't feel secure. His security in your relationship is based on you two communicating when things need to be addressed. If Theseus didn't feel secure in your relationship then he'd vocalize it or perhaps he'd talk to someone about it. He wouldn't want to create an issue if they're wasn't one.

T = Tease - Do they like to tease you? If so, how?

Theseus doesn't tease you. Sometimes he struggles to let things go. He needs to have more fun. However, if anyone is going to tease anyone it's you. You're going to attempt to lure out that playful side for him. It could take years for it to happen but eventually, it does happen. Theseus could learn to become more playful with you.

U = Umbrella - Would they hold an umbrella for you? Would they kiss you in the rain? Dance with you in the rain?

Theseus prides himself on being a gentleman so he's going to hold out an umbrella for you. He'd rather himself drenched from the rain than you. If Theseus found out you wanted to kiss him in the rain then he's going to do it. Although he would be worried about you catching a cold.

V = Vanity - How do they see themselves? Positively or negatively? What's their favourite part of their body etc?

Theseus seems to himself quite positive. He's aware there's plenty more he could do to become a better person. He is quite harsh on himself in regards to his job in the ministry. If you asked Theseus what his favorite feature would be on himself he'd say his smile.

W = Whole - When you're apart do they feel like part of them is missing? How do they deal with being apart from you?

Theseus does miss you when you're gone. However, he does cope relatively well. He doesn't see the point of pinning after you when he could be busy allowing the time to slip away. He does plan a date for you when you return home.

X = Xtra - An extra headcanon

Newt's opinion of you is important to him. He knows his brother is a good judge of character and having Newt's approval is important to him. When the two of you meet for the first time, Theseus is the nervous one. He's the one who wants everything to go off without a hitch because he values his brother's opinion more than he lets on.

Y = You - What do you they like most about you? Favourite body part etc?

Theseus has a list of things he loves about you; your work ethic, your patience, your kindness, and your communication ability. Theseus generally admires you as a whole because he can't imagine a life without you. His favorite body part of yours would be your hands because they can provide a tender touch after a long day. They can massage his shoulders when work gets too much. Even to pull him away so he remembers to take a break.

Z = Zzzz - Sleeping headcanons

Theseus likes to hold you in his sleep. He likes the feeling of being close to you. He likes knowing you are safe and in his arms. It all brings comfort to him. You either curled up around him or he's curled around you. Theseus is the big spoon the majority of the time.

[saintsstranger]

the art of lies | t.s. (fantastic beasts) - chapter three

Chapter Summary: secrets are meant to be unraveled

Pairings: Theseus Scamander x Fem!Reader

genre: romance, mature audience intended

warnings: mature themes, implied sexual content, sexworker protagonist, pleasure house (brothel), smoking

the art of lies masterlist

BENEATH THE STEPS OF THE ARCHWAY and golden street lamp, Theseus would’ve thought you looked heavenly. Almost resembling an angel. 

With your hand holding onto a luggage with all your belongings, waiting for him.

“Run away with me?” 

You would’ve asked. And right at the moment, Theseus needed not to think about the future, he would say yes. 

He didn’t understand why or how it came to be.  You were an angel of seduction, smiling at him with a hand outstretched. Only for your eyes to not gleam like he wanted to.

This was a sweet— sweet lie. 

What stands in front of him was not you. Merely a shadow of wistful thinking. This was just Theseus’ imagination playing tricks on him. A mere wish from the heart.

Is it because he has been through war for years, and the only sign of romantic attraction he had was back when he was still in Hogwarts, rejected because he was not from the House of Slytherin. This was not a school-boy crush; this relationship—whatever it is he is threading into is such a dangerous game. And this far surpasses such simple childish attractions.

How easy it is for you to tear him apart, break his mind, graze your teeth on his pulse, and make him bleed, but instead, you chose not to. It was pathetic to think he came apart so quickly, he wasn’t always like this. He was a child of war, and he had seen it first hand. And Theseus trusted you fully, baring his heart, mind, and soul.

You only wanted one thing: safety. He can see right in your eyes, the freedom; the ability to walk out of this unscathed. And Theseus would gladly give it to you if it meant the world. The responsibility of keeping you safe didn’t feel like a burden; it was a promise he was willing to burn the world for. 

And for his vow to be true, he needed a way in—just like you thought him, he needed leverage to offer to Madame Blanche, something she does not have. If this was the only way you’d ever get to leave, then he was ready to get his hands dirty.

To be standing right where it began, he looked at the looming structure of  Amour Délicat. The over-nauseating scent of floral-filled his senses, the bite of the cold air was fueling his nerves to a full. This time, he feared, let him grovel to the ground and beg to let you go. He would look into your eyes and, this time, he will ask for you to run away.

Running away with him? Might be a fool's wish. 

Then consider him a fool.

Although there seems to be quite a predicament, Theseus is currently facing two problems. The first is that there is a recent development about the case of the missing delegate. 

Charles Moore had been found. A big problem is that he is dead, located in the muggle world with traces of cruciatus curse lingering on their mangled body. When Theseus and Torquil Travers heard the news, they immediately knew that this was done by someone who wanted to know that their threats were not to be taken lightly. If they had dumped his body right on the grounds of the muggles, then they were a threat, someone who is not afraid to showcase magical acts in front of non-magical people. Someone who wants the world to know about them, the wizarding world.

And the biggest problem he is currently facing is that you haven’t talked to him in two weeks, no letters or planned rendezvous. You must have known what happened to the missing delegate and presumed that your job with Theseus was done, therefore, ceasing contact. Theseus vowed he would provide you safety, and right now you had gone back into hiding; you must have felt disappointed with him. And Theseus who never grew desperate, who always has his head on his shoulders, is running out of options.

Just like the first week he had met you. He came barging right in, and the receptionist's eyes widened in recognition at the sight of the auror. Madame Blanche had posted details about being wary of British Aurors getting information, but it did not pass by the woman’s mind. Since the auror came alone, it must be just another customer wanting a night of debauchery, giving him her customer service smile.

“Welcome to Amour Délicat, where the finest maidens and bachelors are always catered to your liking. How can we be of service?” 

Like a practiced mantra, the receptionist did not miss a beat. Theseus looked at her, then the surrounding areas, not scanning like it was a crime scene rather looking for something… or someone.

“You wish to avail a particular flower, then?” Her voice became white noise to Theseus' senses as he looked for you in the nook and cranny of the lounge. After a minute, Theseus returned to his senses and stared right back at the woman before him.

“No. I am here to gather an audience with Madame Blanche.” That was unpredictable.

“Oh! Then I’ll put you on hold. I need to talk to Madame about your presence. I’ll let you know if she declines your request.” It was clear to Theseus he was unwanted here. After making a ruckus the last time he was here, the young lady at the receptionist must have thought he was here for a service. With a nod, Theseus waited as the young woman walked towards the backroom.

Theseus turned around once more; even with broad daylight Amour Délicat was still full of clients roaming about. If it weren’t for the kind of establishment Amour Délicat has, this would've looked like a regular instance, but the patrons that walked in and out were enshrouded in the anonymity of their privacy. Faces covered by hoods were probably from a line of work that valued discreteness; meanwhile, Theseus and many others were unprepared or were simply here for pleasure, their faces evident in the light, unaware of the possibility of showing face.

Right at the main lounge, the dooming sound of the elevator from Madame Blanche sounded turning around Theseus expected it was Madame Blanche, but the footsteps were far heavier. Far too commanding. 

As soon as the piercing gray eyes of the man landed on Theseus, his eyes lit up with recognition.

“If it isn’t the world-renowned war hero, Mr. Scamander.” The man smiled as he stepped straight towards the auror. As soon as the man looked Theseus eye-to-eye, the auror couldn’t but list all the people he had known throughout his lifetime.

“I apologize. I might’ve come off as brash. Could not help myself to be ecstatic to meet the man who violated Archer Evermonde's emergency legislation. Takes a lot of nerve to help the non-magical people and be an enemy of the wizarding world.” The man held out his right hand, ready to introduce himself. “I’m Baudelaire, Pierre Baudelaire.” 

André Baudelaire, the French Minister of Magic. Theseus has only seen him twice in his lifetime, and it was evident with their eyes that Pierre was his son. Eyes that loomed over anyone who looked their way. 3

Theseus gave him his professional smile and shook Pierre's hand firmly. 

“I wouldn’t say I was the enemy of the wizarding community; I did what I had to do to help those in need.” Theseus, ever the hero, replied. Letting go of Pierre’s hand as the other man hummed. 

“A noble cause for their people… and to be awarded as a hero.” Pierre hummed. “I say the muggles certainly live a different life, wouldn’t you say so? Passing their time through a game of darts.”

“That I would not deny, they taught me how to play a game of cards. They certainly know how to amuse themselves. I assume you to had a fair-share of their cuisine as well?” Theseus, merely inquiring, looked at the man in glee.

“Their liquor was not strong… that I would remark. Although, I was not able to stay for long unlike you had done. A simple tavern.” Pierre smiled. “Alas, I hope I am not wasting your time Mr. Scamander. You must have been here for important matters.” The man started to end the conversation and gave one last pointed look at Theseus. 

“I do not mind Mr. Baudelaire, it was nice talking to you.” Theseus nodded, as soon as the man was out of sight. The faint footsteps of the  faint footsteps of the receptionist came to call for him. Just like the first-time Theseus walked into the halls of the establishment, he was led to lift that had a painting of white flowers dancing in the breeze.

For his second time being in the establishment, he realized what the flowers represented. All the small details, from the catalog of the courtesans being flowers and how your floor was decorated like the night sky. 

And there in the middle of the room sat Madame Blanche, hands on her head as she stared at the papers scattered throughout the desk. It was a far cry from what she looked like the first time they met. Instead of the refined successful woman that greeted the aurors back then, what sat at the chair was a lady far too unkept and stressed beyond her years. Madame Blanche looked like she had too much on her plate as she stared at the unopened envelope with such intensity. And right at the floor was the lone flower out from its vase, water spilling right through the carpeted floors. 

“I presume you are here for another problem, pray tell and hurry on with it. I don’t have all day to deal with you Englishmen. What do you want?” With a wave of her hand, she stared at Theseus annoyed by his presence. 

“I am here to talk about—”

“Here to propose to me your grandiose dreams of buying the indenture of one of my Bouquet de Blanc? Spare me the details Mr. Scamander, she is not for sale, never will be.” Madame Blanche procured a bottle of fire whiskey. 

Theseus' eyes narrowed, straightening his tie. 

She is not for sale, never will be.  

It was easy like that to claim your freedom and yet far from your reach, far from Theseus’ fingertips were the vows he promised you. You did not deserve that, your eyes craved the walls of freedom, the breeze of the wind as you ran away without looking back to your former job. You deserve to be free, to love like a normal human being and yet you are chained body and soul to a job you must have grown to hate.

From surviving the streets, begging crumbs off the hands of the wealthy, and now you were bound to be here forever.

“And why is that? May I ask. You let the other courtesan go easily? Why can’t she?” Theseus argued, eyes fueling with rage as the woman who sat before him only drank in her cup. With a deep sigh, the piercing stare of Madame Blanche went straight at Theseus, legilimency cursing through his veins as he felt the woman crept into his mind but Theseus knew not to yield. He had prior training, and to see what is in his mind is what his weakness scares him, you taught him that he needed leverage in every fight and he is fighting like he was back in war to protect his mind, to protect you. 

“Because with you being a simple lowly auror could never afford her Mr. Scamander.” Madame Blanche scoffed, as her attempts to pry the doors of memories, thoughts and feelings remained unopened to the keys of her legilimency. 

Her words as sharp as knives, as painful as the unforgivable curse spat right out into the open air.

“You are here to offer her love? What can that feed?” Madame Blanche stood up glaring right at Theseus. 

“Oh! You wish for a home? Do you think you can protect her with brick walls made of love? Or you wish to have a family consisting of three? Do you think your children will ask why her mother kept so many secrets? Or how about enemies? You think with all the secrets she knows, there would be no one in the world who would want her dead the moment she stepped foot outside of these very walls? How about when she becomes a mother? Do you think she can handle caring for a child when all she has known in her life is to fight for what she needs… to beg in the streets… Do you think she will be gentle like how your mother was to you? How about you, will you be able to stay through her worst throughout your whole life?” 

Theseus was silent.

“Foolish, that’s what you are Mr. Scamander. I have met the exact fools like you once, and he ended up being a disappointment.” Madame Blanche whispered, her words growing cold in the wind as did her fingertips that grazed lightly in his shoulder.

“You’re wrong.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I came here for her freedom not for love. I came here not to act as a hero rather as a helping hand. Yes, I am foolish but I’ll fight through Azkaban and back to give her what she desperately wants… and if you can’t see that then you must be the foolish one.”

Madame Blanche paused when Theseus stood up and looked at him straight in her eyes. He is indeed a respectable young man, too heroic for his age, too naive of the hurt he will walk through as soon as he opens the doors of Pandora's box of letting you free. Yet, Madame Blanche admired him for that.

“As much, as this meeting is amusing to me Mr. Scamander, I do commend you for standing your ground. You are too naive—” As Madame Blanche walked towards her chair. 

Theseus has seen it, Madame Blanche’s eyes. “You two are the same.”

“You are great liars, but there is a slight tell-tale of the both of you lying. I can see right through it without needing to pry your mind. Like mother… like daughter.” The truth coming right off Theseus lips like waterfall as the whole room has gone cold.

“What did you say?” Madame Blanche remained steadfast unlooking towards Theseus' revelations.

“That’s why you have gone to great lengths to find her, you wanted to protect your own daughter, and the only way for you to see her safe is to add her in your catalog. You didn’t want anyone prying into your weakness and using her against you. Yet here you are, bare to the world as you remain not looking at me, it’s because it is the truth. Isn’t it, Madame Blanche de Roux?” 

Madame Blanche's jaw went rigid.

“Who was it? How did you know?” Madame Blanche’s stare was far from what she looked earlier, this far by surpass the anger that he had seen earlier. 

“From her.” He didn’t mean it, Theseus never did but whenever you are traversing his minds as you are giving him your memories, another door opens and this time he had seen what looks to be an old door. 

In that memory, curiosity got the better of him as he had seen what seems to be Madame Blanche cooing at the young babe in her arms. But the words he could never understand as the couple before him fought, the only notable about the man was his own uniform of the french auror. There stood in front of him a nameless man, worried lines written all over his feature as he kissed her daughter goodbye. Daughter which features the same face that stood before Theseus. One could never forget.

“Your own daughter unknowingly showed me a memory.”

a/n: prepared for the long-due author's note

[luvtak]

corona borealis, lfx

✧ genre/tw rambly soul-crushing fluff, one sweet kiss!!, lovely as a pet-name, felix being an undeniably sweet bf like always and hearing a bedtime story <3 , largely unedited.

✧ w/c 952 <3

✧ a/n definitely not brought on by asea felix are you kidding... he's so lovely i just had to dawdle on about it somewhere so here you go! also, the thought of telling lix a bedtime story makes me wanna cry i hope i'm not alone. mwah!!

His arm is hot around you, keeping you safe from the scary silhouettes the shadows bring, and the night is breathing. A group of you had come to this little campground for a night away from the city lights, and while the two of you are alone you can still hear the rest of the boy’s nighttime sounds mixing in with crickets and critters. 

Your boyfriend stands beside you, listening intently as you tell him stories of the stars. Usually, these tales come from the comfort of your bed–rustling under covers and speaking into his mouth, sharing breath and love until you fall asleep, tracing false shapes in the plastic stars adorning your ceiling. But tonight, under the cover of a too cold darkness you tell him his bedtime stories beneath the sky. 

His face is tilted up, looking to see where your fingers are pointing, and the soft glint in his midnight eyes makes you pause. You’ve never known someone who looked so alive, someone with a sun for a soul. Felix has the brightest smile you’ve ever seen, alight with joy and senseless mischief–eyes wide with wonder at the constellations rising above him. 

Looking at him is dizzying; that feeling when you put your arms out and spin so fast you fall, a carousel going so round and round. You feel like flying, rising up like the moment Icarus’ wings took him up and away. 

Sometimes you wonder if it’s normal to feel like this… if everyone in love feels as though they are the creator, the inventor of such depraved desire and compassion for another. Surely, you must be the first–no one else had felt Felix’s fingertips on their skin or his lips sweetly drinking them in. How could someone say they’ve encountered a deeper love than this when your sweetheart is the embodiment of love, Venus as a boy. 

He turns to you in your moment of hesitation, smiling at you with all the care in the world. He loves you endlessly, burns for you and the soft caress of your affection. You can tell he doesn’t know why you stopped speaking, but he’s happy just the same–sharing your space and time, living in this moment with you. He remembers the first time you told him a story, speaking the words softly, he thinks he fell in love right there. 

“What’s that one?” he asks, catching your still raised hand in his own. 

“Oh, it's a crown, see?” you can see his eyes tracing the points, finding the shape that connects the points together. “It’s Ariadne’s wedding tiara, she was a princess of Crete who helped Theseus slay her brother the Minotaur Asterion. After they escaped the labyrinth, the prince left her on the Island of Naxos where she was found by Dionysus,” 

“He left her there?!” he gasps, your sweet boy forever confused by ill intentions, even in a story. 

“Yeah, he’s so lame, right? Anyway, after the God finds her on his island they fall in love and eventually marry… the crown was her wedding present, and after she died Dionysus flung it into the sky to honor her.”

Felix is quiet for a long time after this, inhaling the story with all the deference you deserve. After every narrative he takes his time to think about how he feels about it: the first time you finished a movie with him and he was quiet for fifteen minutes before he told you he liked it, he is like that now. Quietly staring at the sky, not ignoring you for his hand still made its path up and down your arm and you know if you called his name he’d answer, but you don’t want to interrupt his silent seeking. 

His life is noisy, spirited, and wonderful in all the ways a beautiful boy like him creates, your infatuation came in chaos–in mindless chatter and kitchen counter dance parties, but you fell in love in silence. In the moments when the world was quiet and all you could hear was his heartbeat, the drawling intake of his lungs filling and releasing. You adore his voice, but just existing with him, sharing the same air would be lovely enough for a lifetime. 

Finally, after minutes of staring ahead, he speaks–softly but with no less intensity, 

“If something were to happen to you I would make you into a constellation.” 

His eyes, bright with longing stare into yours, and you know he’s not being funny. He means it with all of him, means it with every atom of his being. 

Shocked and in love with him you laugh, bursting with fondness never hidden. “I love you too,” you say, for you know that's what he means. A love that spills from his veins whenever he thinks of you, so massive and consuming that the words aren’t enough. “I’d make a constellation for you too, it’d be the prettiest one in the whole sky.” 

When he moves closer to you, you can feel the smile radiating on his shadowed face–sweeping his grin over the plane of your cheekbones. Scorching your skin where his lips touch, a traveling forest fire of kisses. When his journey ends, sliding his mouth over yours the flames grow, getting taller and taller as his caress goes deeper. 

The night is chilly, but there is no need for a coat when his arms are around you–sweeping you into his embrace with only the stars to watch. 

“Lets go to bed, lovely” he muttered, breathing through open-mouthed kisses and shared smiles. Leading you to where your tent lies, to where stories and sleep await you–love and life and dreams filled with him, your constellation of a boy. 

© LUVTAK 2024

[xjulixred45x]

Theseus(+ Asterius obvi) with Son! Reader

It is no mystery that I am a geek, that I am a Greek mythology nerd, and that precisely led me to fall HARD for Hades, and I take advantage of every aspect of the myths for my writing.

how, for example, that in the myths, Theseus had a son with an Amazon (which could be Hippolita or Antiope depending on the version), who died, and his son, Hippolytus, became one of the hero's tragedies.

Basically he was a believer of Artemis who took a vow of chastity, his stepmother fell in love with him, he rejected her, she defamed him and killed herself, Theseus found out and despised his son, even when he had an accident in his cart ( which in most versions HE CAUSED by asking Poseidon to punish his son), but when the truth is revealed Theseus goes directly to his son in his last moments to apologize (and not leave him alone in his last moments).

Although his son forgave him in the myth, I like to think that, in perspective and using the logic that they are in the Hades universe, his son did not really think he would see his father again, so although in the moment he FORGIVE HIM definitely left things tense, since Hippolytus/reader ended up in Elysium because of his devotion to Artemis (in some versions he even becomes her sidekick).

and I like to think that while Theseus IS insufferable and pompous, he definitely has a soft spot for his son, seeing him as proud to have a close relationship with the gods and wanting to dedicate his life to them. probably also when they were alive encouraged several of Hipolito/reader's more violent hobbies, even if it was a little worrying at times😅

and now that he is back in the prime of his youth in Elysium and his son is with him, let's say that Theseus "discreetly" wants to compensate for his faults in life (especially the end of his son's life), it will be a bit of a head. tough but he's not stupid to realize that he screwed up big time with his son.

They probably do bonding by sparring and sparring with each other, they fight while talking and catching up on each other's lives (or, well, "life") and when Asterius joins, he also quickly blends in as a mediator between the two if they argue (especially about a certain _incident_)

Although Theseus is proud of his son and loves him, he never shuts up. Asterius on the other hand lets the boy talk and talk and generally gives more room for his opinion, he is someone Hippolytus/reader can go to to make sure those secrets don't get out between the two of them.

Asterius would refer to Hippolytus/reader as "little one" or "little prince", CHANGE MY MIND.

IMAGINE IF HIPPOLYTUS/READER WAS A KIND OF THIRD CHAMPION OF THE ELYSIUM! Theseus would be so PROUD of his son, crying and all "they grow up so fast."

Asterius would be a little more serious, but it would probably be because he himself is holding back the urge to cry while congratulating Hippolytus/reader on his first victory in Elysium and earning his champion title.

Theseus and Asterius would take the issue of Hippolytus/reader's chastity VERY SERIOUSLY not only out of respect for Artemis, but because 1- he already had a terrible experience with women and 2- it is something very important FOR HIM, so good luck trying to approach him or, gods forbid, flirt.

although I think that if Hippolytus/reader were interested in any relationship, it would probably be one similar to that of Asterius and Theseus themselves, a "brotherly" (homoerotic) bond, someone he could consider a rival, an enemy who became into a friend, an ally, a brother, something for him.

and that's why I like the idea of pairing him with Zagreus.

1- a love interest who is not a Tsundere (Hippolytus/reader is more virgin than Olive oil, so he is quite shy).

2- it would be an interesting dynamic (How Zagreus is going to fight with this boy, son of the man he hates the most, only to realize that they have a lot in common, earning each other's respect and even their help)

and 3- THESEUS AND ASTERIUS'S REACTIONS WOULD BE HILARIOUS

Theseus would be SO CONVINCED that this DAEMON manipulated his chaste son so that he would go easy on him and lose his title. HOW DARE HE THINK HE COULD EVEN BREATHE THE SAME AIR AS HIS SON?! MUCH LESS COURT HIM!? OVER HIS DOUBLE DEAD BODY!

The only way for Theseus to understand WHY Hippolytus/reader likes Zagreus of all beings, is to use him and Asterius as an example. There he understands it, but he doesn't accept it.

Asterius, on the other hand, is much more chill about it and even approves of it, although he will definitely give Zagreus the shovel talk and assure him that if he does anything to the little prince, there will be no place in Elysium that is safe for him.

Like, Zagreus would be upset to have to go through Theseus to talk to his boyfriend, but he definitely takes advantage of the situation to make jokes about how Theseus is now his "father-in-law", making the Athenian king even more angry.

(Zagreus would definitely make the "your son calls me daddy too" joke.)

At the same time, Zag would be surprised at how good a father Theseus is when he is dead (and what he was like when he was alive, excluding the accident of course). Likewise, he would be happy to see that although Theseus is an idiot, he is not such a bad guy.

Zagreus definitely helps a little with the Hipolito/reader relationship when tensions are high, going into therapist mode again. and thanks to this I can see Theseus and Hippolytus/reader in the prologue making a good process towards healing.

I don't think there's any WAY IN HELL that Theseus will accept Zagreus as his son's mate, but with Asterius and Hippolytus/reader present, at least he's more...domesticated.

Hippolytus/reader: father! TELL HIM

Theseus: UHG, FINE....HELLspawn--ZAGREUS...WOULD YOU WANT TO STAY TO CELEBRATE THE VICTORY OF HIPPOLYTUS/READER?

Asterius: Do you want to stay forever?

Overall, it's a dysfunctional family, I'm not going to lie, but a happy one.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[renren-006]

Hiii I just wanna say I love your writing <33

Can I request heavvyyyyyyy smut with f!reader x Theseus Scamander in which they are both aurors wanting head auror position and Theseus is tired of reader always running her mouth and one night when they are both staying in the office late she has to drop of something in his office and they have a mini argument and he shuts her up iykwim (lil bit of choking and biting kink for ✨spice ✨) - ⛄️

Magical Hands | Theseus Scamander x fem Reader

A/n: hey omg absolutely!! thank you so much for the request! hehe also thank you for including some elements you want!!

warning: 18 PLUS ONLY!! smut! spicy!

word count: 1471

While you did work with a ton of Aurors there was one in particular you couldn't stand, and maybe it was because he slightly made you weak but it was also just because of his arrogance. You hated how he boasted about how good he was  at his job, and how you felt immeasurable compared to him. You wanted the Head Auror position, had been working towards it for a few years now and kept getting sidestepped by Thesus Scamander himself. How his brother was a completely different person, you had no idea. The man never ever let you get more than a  few steps in front of you before he came in and stole what you thought was your position away from you. 

You back talked to him, trash talked him even said his magic was flimsy, it was not, you just did everything you could to beat him down but it never worked. You knew he hated it, was annoyed by it, and that slightly made it better for you. The teasing and the banter, in your own way was showing him you did in fact want to be better but also that there was some other deeper level of attraction towards him. 

It was one night during a particularly tough case that you and Theseus stayed late to work on it, in separate offices of course. You had scanned through some papers and had written up the incident report for the day and was going to drop it off to Thesaurus, not without some banter along the way.

“Well if it isn't the Great Aurora” you said as you hugged the doorway to his office. Thesis huffed a breath and looked up from where he was hunched over a large table in the room. 

“What do you want?” he asked, looking at you now. You slowly meandered into the room. 

“That's a lot of papers,” you said, ignoring his question. 

“Yea, it's from the mess at the docks”

“Ah…I see even your greatness cant solve it” you said, trying at anything for him to take the bait like he sometimes does. 

“Again what is it you want” he asked, clearly not amused by what you were saying or baiting. 

“Why do you assume I want something?” you asked, snapping a bit at him. 

“I don't have time for this y/n '' he said, pulling his attention back to his work, that he had slowly started to put back into piled. 

“Aww can't pull yourself away for two minutes” you asked him as he was moving the things off the table, making you lean back on it watching him.

“Y/N '' Theseus said, snapping his head back to you, annoyance ringing clear in your name. 

“Poor Theseus can’t…” you were cut off by his lips slamming onto yours, the clear force shoving your hips and ass further into the table. You were caught off guard for the first time in years. He slid his hands onto your waist lifting you without hesitation and putting you on the table. His eyes met yours, the pure lust and hunger on his face made you slowly unravel from the mask you had put on around him. 

“Theseus?” you asked slowly wondering what was happening. He stepped back, gathering himself. 

“Sorry i…”

“I didn't tell you to stop,” you told him, “I only wanted to know…why?”

“Why? Are you kidding me? For years you have been doing this act this flirtation annoying act…i cant take it for one more moment”

“You knew?”

“Of course I knew, I see how you are around the other Aurors and it's only to me that you do this,” he said, gesturing to you, the attitude you had with him. He walked back over, you let your legs spread apart the skirt you had on rising slowly as you did, showing more and more skin. A growl escaped his lips as he stood in between them. 

“You wear those just for me?’ he asked, referencing your skit and the little number you had on underneath that he had a view of.  

“Not intentionally” you told him

“Hmm so you just hopped id see your little number?”

“Maybe…maybe I'll bend in front of you, act like I'm going to pick something up and then…leave you there wanting more,” you told him, making him grip your legs. 

“Tell me darling…you like being such a brat?” he asked you hand slowly making its way up your body then landing on your neck, wrapping around it slightly. You groaned, rocking your hips against the air, something Theseus caught. “Oh darling, cant be doing that now can you” he said. His other hand sliding up your thigh twords those little red undwewear you put on, and almost right twords your spots but stopping at the top of your thigh and squeezing. You were being teased and you knew it. The amount of restraint he was trying to have, became apparent to you when you saw him eyeing your skin and the hand wrapped around your neck. You wanted him to squeese, wanted him to slip sinde, you wanted all of him, however aggressive. You desperatly wanted that hunger to devour him and consume you. He eyes you again, making your skin heat up more and more from his gaze, his hunger. 

“What are you so hesitant about?” you asked him, his eyes jumped to meet yours.

“Dont want to go to far”

“I want to go far with you” you told him, “devoir me baby”  you told him, tilting your head up giving him the etire access to yourself. He squeezed your neck pulling himself into you. The squeezing from his hands sent you into space, your kisses were sloppier yes but he didnt care, not one but as he saw the ecstasy on your face. He left your lips, and gassed longly at your neck where is hand was wrapped around it and your eyes were glossy from the feeling. He let go, letting the life return to your eyes. You gazed lost at him, from the relised feeling of his hand and the blood and air circulating back up to your head. He ran his hand down your neck, grazing over your chest before stopping at your waist. 

“Darling…” he started, the longing in his face, he wanted something. 

“Anything you want” you told him, the look he gave you or terror and pleasure was enought to make you want to brake on this table. He moved your hair back, beefore he took that jacket off leaving just in an almost skin tight blue shirt, showing his flexing msussles underneath and that body you wanted ontop of yours. You pulled him back to you by his belt and pulled your self and him flush while still on that table. He could tell what you waned, and what he was definitely going to do to you. Your underware was slow to be slipped off by the hand that had come back to rest by your thighs. That red piece fell to the floor, leaving the cold air to make you hiss slightly. The building tension you had for him, to do whatever he wanted to you, was insufferable. This shirt was unbuttoned slowly by your hands, wanting to just feel him. Once it was and his shirt fell you knew without even looking that all his windows and the door were locked and no one was interrupting hhat you two were doing. You new a charm of silence and cast it around the room, and the growl from Thesus when he felt it put into place almost made you loose yourself again. 

“No interruptions anymore” he said. Slowly most of your cloths were gone, and he stood there watching you, your body, as it cured to his touch. And when it was just the two of you those charms were truly needed. What ou never knew was how much thesusu enjoyed chocking you and how much he enjoyed bitting you, your neck, your thighs. You never wanted him to stop devouring you, the biute marks leaving deep red and almost bloody imprints on your skin. His thrust sent you into ecstasy, that table helping both of you that night. He made you reach the hevsns while keeping you tied down to earth. 

The next day those bite marks along your neck and chest were on display for the entire department to see, and when people got a glance at the matching set of hickies on Theseus neck and those leading down his chest, not that they could see those but you knew, the entire office was in shambles about the two of you. Those bite marks and the non visible imprint his hand left on you kept you going back to each other.

[gotstabbedbyapen]

Penelope & Athena headcanons because a certain moot (yes it's YOU @dootznbootz) infected my brain with them :)

Athena knew of Penelope before Odysseus, as she is the patron of Sparta and has been watching the Spartan royal lineage for the longest time.

Weaving is Athena's love language, and she weaved with Penelope a lot as the princess grows up. Don't tell Artemis and Persephone this, but Athena enjoys this activity with Penelope more because she is actually skilled with it and is delightful to teach.

In the Hyacinthia festival, women would offer their woven chiton to Apollo. Athena would not shut up about how Penelope's chiton is the prettiest out of the bunch and Apollo rolled his eyes like, "Yeah, yeah, I know your human is the best weaver. How about I give you her chiton???"

Aside weaving, Athena also trained Penelope in sport and some fighting skills. As a girl, Penelope isn't required to undergo heavy military training, but she still must participate in physical training to stay fit.

They play a lot of petteia (an ancient Greek board game). Penelope is smart but never stood a chance against the goddess of wisdom herself, but she's too competitive to give up. Athena very much indulged her lmao

They talked about their family a lot, from their sisters' silly frolics to their brothers' stupid antics. Penelope is one of the few who knows how much of a gossiper Athena actually is.

Mutual understanding over bystander's guilt. Athena witnessed Persephone getting kidnapped as a young goddess and Penelope saw Helen getting stolen away as a child. Both failed to save them and had dreamt of being able to do something, anything to stop the tragedy.

Silly arguments about whether saltwater or freshwater is better between half-Naiad Penelope and half-Oceanid Athena (Metis was an Oceanid and Athena had lots of connection with the ocean)

One time Athena took Penelope to the mouth of the Eurotas River at the Laconian Gulf to settle the debate by swimming and... taste testing the water.

They finally found a common ground in deciding that the brackish water at estuaries isn't actually as great as they thought. And so they decided to respect each other's opinion.

In another universe where Odysseus never came to Sparta, Athena welcomes Penelope to become her priestess.

Despite not having the best relationship with Aphrodite, Athena still brings herself to ask the goddess for tips and helps on how to matchmake Penelope with Odysseus when she found out her two pets are smitten with each other.

"Do you think I just start a fight between them so they get to speak directly?" - "Athena, sweetie, just no."

A lot of people joke about Athena thinking Odysseus gave birth to Telemachus via his head because that's how she was born, but we don't talk much about Athena's potential hidden trauma of her father swallowing her mother before that.

Even though Athena knows Odysseus would rather die than hurt Penelope, there's a tingling intrusive thought at the back of her head that she should keep an eye just to ensure the smallest of chance wouldn't happen.

When Penelope went into labor, Athena dragged Artemis to support her. The composed goddess lowkey panicked when her pet human is giving birth lol

Penelope called Athena by her epithet "Soteira" (Saviour) two times in her life: when Helen was stolen by Theseus and when Helen was taken by Paris which led to Odysseus having to leave for war.

It was a half desperate cry for help, half bitter sarcasm that The Saving Goddess could not save those whom she claimed to watch over, and not to mention Athena was part of the Golden Apple drama that eventually led to Helen being given to Paris.

Athena was immensely guilty for having a hand in the events that led to Penelope having to watch her husband depart for war and Telemachus having to grow up without a father. She tried to spend as much time where she wasn't participating in the war as possible to help out Penelope in raising Telemachus, basically becoming a temporarily stand-in parent for the boy.

Another reason for Athena's constant involvement in Telemachus' upbringing is that, deep down, she didn't want the boy to grow up half-orphaned like she was.

Penelope asked Athena why she didn't make the suitors suddenly choke on their food and die. Athena replied (for the 7635th time) that her father is the Lord of Xenia and her doing so would not please him.

Penelope: We can stage it like an accident.

Athena: I already told you, I cannot violate my father's domain!

Penelope: You started a rebellion against your father but draw the line at making a guest die because it'll disrespect him???

Athena: ... Be quiet.

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

this was pulled out of my head on the Discord and decided to share here ^-^

My ranking of godly parents

1) Apollo

this just goes without saying. do i even need to explain?

ONWARDS!

2) Dionysus

cried when his son was killed. asked percy to keep other son safe. is seen eating with his sons in CHB.

3) Aphrodite

helps Piper and her friends on their quest. helps the Seven on their quest. the only bit of bad parenting i remember is forcing piper into clothes she doesn't like.

also Aphrodite is a good mom in the mythology so

4) Hera

#unpopular opinion with wider fandom

Juno is Jason's mom. fight me.

She is actively mourning his death, something Zeus DID NOT do, and helped Jason out as much as she could.

also Hera gets way too much flak from the fandom

5) Hephaestus

keeps an eye on his kids. points taken off for little contact with them, but it's kinda understandable because of his social awkwardness.

6) Ares

#unpopular opinion with wider fandom

"he was gonna hit Clarisse!" was he though? or is it implied Clarisse was raised in an abusive home so when Ares made any sudden movements she would react like she would be hit?

also he gives her not one, but TWO electric spears and his blessing. he provides her armor when she has none.

Ares is a good dad fight me. also it's canon in mythology

Mars is also a good dad, but everyone already knows that.

7) Poseidon

#unpopular opinion with wider fandom

first thing he tells percy is that he wishes he was never born. granted, it was more foot-in-mouth but come on. you've had kids for a WHILE Poseidon you should know not to say things like that.

points for saving Percy a few times (The Arch, Princess Andromeda) but it's probably really easier to give a helping hand to your mortal kids when you only have one mortal kid who hasn't done anything to screw up his or your name. eyes what happened with Theseus

i have other points of contention but i'll stop here.

8) Hades

#unpopular opinion with wider fandom

said he wished Bianca was alive instead of Nico. granted he regrets it so points there but YOU DO NOT SAY THAT TO A CHILD DAMMIT

i don't consider tsats canon but what the fuck was up with that shit. be glad i didn't consider that or he'd be sent towards the very bottom of this list for sending his son to hell on purpose.

9) Hermes

#unpopular opinion with wider fandom

bro fixated WAY too much on Luke and ignored his other kids. coughs in Didn't Claim Chris coughs in Ignored Connor and Travis when they were right in front of him coughs

10) Demeter

absent parent. didn't bother to help Meg or Lityerses, resulting them being raised in abusive households (Nero & Midas/Commodus)

11) Athena

in the words of Stixlx on the Discord: "she sends her kids to die like soldiers rather than kids"

12) Zeus

an abuser is an abuser. therefore he gets dead last.

he also saved thalia but didn't save jason, so there's that too.

[galadriel1010]

Why most of what you've heard about NaNoWriMo is wrong and why that matters.

So, word on the streets is that the NaNoWriMo organisation have driven the challenge into the ground since they took it over, and are now promoting generative AI as an acceptable way to win the challenge. If your eyebrows aren't raising at even part of that, buckle up

Let's start with the easy one. Was NaNoWriMo better before the organisation took it over? No. That's not a matter of opinion, it's just a matter of chronology. The NaNoWriMo organisation was founded as the Office of Letters and Light in 2005, by the people who started the event in 1999. There was no NaNoWriMo before the organisation. Hell, the organisation pre-dates a lot of the people complaining that it was better before it took over.

So straight up, there's a fairly blatant piece of misinformation that's going round as fact.

Is NaNoWriMo promoting AI to win? Also no, but with more of a hand waggle. The organisation's stance is, as it has been since I started doing it (2004, by the way, so you could argue that I do remember the pre-org days), is "Sure you can but why would you?" Back then you had to write your own algorithm, and quite frankly it was easier to write the novel. But the prizes were better back then. Once upon a time you could get a free bound proof copy of your novel and stuff. Now you just get bragging rights and 50% off Scrivener. So you can, but why would you?

Is NaNoWriMo sponsored by generative AI? Eh, sort of. One of their big sponsors is ProWritingAid, a fiction editing tool like Word's spell checker but with more tools and gizmos. It is AI, much like any spell checker, and like most spell checkers it is more A than I. It has some very useful bits, and some frustrating bits. It will not, however, write your novel for you. You have to do that yourself, and then it will suggest ways to improve it. Sometimes they are useful, sometimes they are very much not.

Why does all of this matter? Two reasons.

1. This idea (reminder, factually incorrect idea) has spread like wildfire, and fanned the flames of vitriolic harassment of the organisation's staff. At best it's just been unpleasant, at worst ableist and racist. The attitude of "If they don't want to be harassed, they shouldn't do things we disapprove of" is a familiar one that is bad enough when it's based on facts. When it's based on misinformation that no one can be bothered to do a 30 second check on, it's even worse.

2. 30 seconds. That's all it would take to go and check the NaNoWriMo sponsors page and see that there is no generative AI there. Or to go and read the Wikipedia page and follow the ship of Theseus and see that NaNoWriMo is the organisation. It's so easy. And people can't be bothered. And this at a time when we know that misinformation is rife and dangerous. If this passed your sniff test, what else have you passed on without checking?

We all need to get better at this. It was easy for me because I was there.gif. I remember those halcyon days. If I didn't, would I have nodded along? I hope not, but hope isn't enough. We've got to check.

[baejax-the-great]

Sing, O Muse

Achilles is standing in his room, a scroll in his hand. He has a look of utmost concentration on the page, so much so he doesn’t notice Zagreus walking in, though his cheeks are strangely pink as his eyes scan over the words. He raises an eyebrow, then blinks a few times at whatever he has just read, at which point he notices Zagreus in the doorway. He coughs once, tossing the scroll to the desk.

“Interesting reading you have here, lad.”

Zagreus feels his own face begin to flush. Oh, no. Oh, no no no no no. “Dusa gave it to me,” he blurts out.

It’s not a lie. It is true of the scroll Achilles was just reading. It is not true of two of the scrolls now underneath it on his desk, which are written in his own hand. Blood and darkness, Thanatos was right about him needing to clean his room.

“I see,” Achilles says, though now his eyes have wandered to the poster of him Zagreus has on his wall, and he wants to die. It wouldn’t do much, because he’d only come back about twenty meters away, but getting skewered by Theseus would be less embarrassing than this moment.

“Did Patroclus, um…” Achilles’ brows furrow even deeper somehow. “Dusa’s never met him, has she?”

“No,” Zagreus says, and for some reason Achilles’ flush grows deeper.

“There are some very fine descriptions of him in that,” he says with a gesture to the scroll.

“Dusa has a way with words.”

There is an awkward pause in which Zagreus wishes with every bone in his body that Achilles would just tell him why he’s here and then leave his room and then immediately suffer a bout of amnesia, and in which Achilles does nothing at all.

“The muses,” Achilles says suddenly, but then he stops. “Well, they told me…” His eyes search the floor of Zagreus’s room. “I died before any of the songs about me were written, you see.”

“Oh.”

“Well, there were some songs, among the men, but not the promised immortal poetry.”

“I don’t think this counts as—”

“I’ve tried not to think about it much, what they would write about me, what the living people up there right now must think of me. I don’t even know how much time has passed, but immortal is forever, so the muses must… well, they must inspire as they see fit, I suppose.”

Both of them turn to look at the scroll sitting on Zagreus’s desk. Zagreus has never met the muses, so he doesn’t know if they like stories that involve two childhood friends now grown, dressed in torn, thin chitons while stranded in a cave after a surprise flooding cut them off from the rest of the army, tenderly washing each other’s wounds, caressing each other with the reverence of ostensibly unrequited love until one leans in with bated breath, then the other, both of them filled with such longing and such fear that once their lips finally do touch, they can’t help but make passionate love on the cavern floor, which, in Zagreus’s experience, would not be very pleasant on the knees and seems like a terrible risk for magma, but in Dusa’s writing comes off as desperately hot, so much so he can’t stop thinking about inviting Thanatos to Asphodel with him. Zagreus’s story club seems to like those stories, though, so perhaps he could get Hermes to send an invitation to the muses and see if any would like to visit.

“Would you like to keep it, sir?”

Achilles’ eyes widen as he looks at Zagreus dead on for the first time since Zagreus walked in the room. He protests that he couldn’t possibly, but Zagreus insists, “Maybe Patroclus would like to read it, too. It’s only fair, I think, given that it’s about him as much as it’s about you, sir.”

Achilles’ cheeks grow pink again. “That’s a very kind offer, lad, but I wouldn’t want to deprive you of your… reading material.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it, sir, I’ve got lots of others to read, and Dusa’s already working on the sequel and I’m sure she’ll share it next week at our—”

Zagreus cuts himself off before he reveals that half the House gathers to talk about Achilles’ shapely legs and Patroclus’s hairy chest in all sorts of contrived scenarios. It’s not only them in the stories, but currently those are Zagreus’s favorites.

“Just how many people have read this?” Achilles asks, his voice strained.

“Not many,” Zagreus hedges. “A normal amount, I think.”

“Right.”

In a smooth movement, Achilles slips the scroll off the desk and tucks it away somewhere on his person. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer after all, lad,” he says before striding out of the room.

“Will you want to read the sequel, too?” Zagreus calls after him.

Achilles doesn’t acknowledge him, walking purposefully away before fading from view, a blue flash indicating he has made his way to Elysium.

Later, on some day or night, a new scroll lies on Zagreus’s desk. He unrolls it to find Achilles has written “He insisted” in a script so tight, Zagreus wonders if he didn’t snap the quill. Beneath that is a long list of what appears to be critiques written in Patroclus’s hand, including parts of Achilles’ body he believes were overlooked and underappreciated and the adjectives he personally would use to describe them, though a couple of those are blotted out, presumably by the messenger, as well as positions he thinks would be better-suited to making love on a cavern floor.

Zagreus glances at his door. He’d been planning on going back out there, in part because Eurydice has been waiting for him to finish Dusa’s latest story and he’s finally finished it, but at the very end of his very long note, Patroclus had suggested a shipwreck on an uninhabited island as a potential new setting for getting the heroes to admit their love for each other, and now he’s having so many thoughts about that he thinks he’ll explode if he doesn’t write them down this instant.

Zagreus sits at his desk, takes a long look at the poster of Achilles on the wall, and picks up a quill.