#to make it worse you have to add on something like “i hate shopping” or “I read” or 'i'm not a sl*t'

[the-real-list-of-ominous-threats]

I shall force you to unironically declare that you're 'not like other girls'

[checkeredflagggs]

Glazed and Confused

Pairing: Lando Norris x Potter!Youtuber!reader

Summary: when lando fails to make a simple mug, fans direct him towards your YouTube channel

a/n: I took 1 hr long class on pottery and quit. Don’t like the feel of it, have mostly forgot literally everything about it so…🤷🏻‍♀️

a/n 2: I really struggled to get lando’s voice down and don’t really think I did. Oops 😬 will work on that for next time (also plz ignore that changing of the handles. I try to keep them accurate but again I’m not on those social media platforms so…)

a/n 3: I tried to make sure that this reader was never gendered or given a race — there’s one photo near the end that depicts 2 white smaller hands but I think that is the only time. Please let me know how I did, if you could

Pottery Made Easy has posted

potterymadeeasy

liked by user1, user2, and 2316 others

pottermadeeasy: my newest video (mugs and bowls, pt 2) is now up! In it I show you ways to add a little flourish and decorations to the pieces you made from part 1!

view all comments

user1: thank you your majesty! Easy to understand and so so easy to follow!! (unlike my professor 🙄😬)

user2: right? If they either stopped mumbling or spoke up…

user1: might be asking too much of someone born in the 1800s 😭🙄

user2: unfortunately

user3: god your work is so gorgeous. Do you sell anything?

potterynadeeasy: occasionally! I’m based in Monaco rn and a friend owns a shop and sometimes they let me use a shelf or 2

user4: ohh! I’m in France. Plz plz plz make an announcement when you will next have some ready! I’d love to own a piece

potterynadeeasy: of course lovely 😊 vague plans are to have some ready in the next week or 2!

user4: seriously?!? Marking the calendar right now!

user3: you have no idea how jealous I am right now…

potterynadeeasy: dm me! I might be able to ship it to you depending on where you are!

user3: faints bless you

user5: landonorris here! They might be able to help you

user6: be so for real right now. It’ll take a miracle to help landonorris

user7: I hate to be a negative nancy but…yeah. That latest stream was bad bad landonorris

user8: I dont even know…that clay flew… landonorris

user9: would hate to be his cleaner…

lnupdates

liked by user5, user6, user7, and 1,897,455 others

lnupdates: some of our favorite moments from Lando’s latest stream where he was attempting to make a ceramic mug…bowl? It was certainly an interesting one to watch

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user5: interesting is one way to put it. Tragic is another

user6: no but really…that was. I legit have no words

user7: he needs to watch potterymadeeasy! I love their videos

user8: oh? I haven’t heard of them

user7: they’re a Monaco based potter that has a lot of simple how to videos!

user8: just watched one of them! And god their voice…🥵

user7: oh my god right?!?

user5: but are they gonna be enough to help lando?

user7: well they certainly couldn’t make it any worse tbh

user9: you got this lando! Pottery isn’t something easy to pick up - you just gotta keep trying!

user10: yeah! There was definitely some improvement by the end

Twitter

Private DMs

landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 2,790,469 others

landonorris: progress! these ones were mostly standing. I’m not done yet though - catch me tomorrow night giving it another go

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user11: those looked good! Most definitely an improvement!

user12: he’s almost there! It’s literally just the little things now

user13: oh how far we’ve come! In less then a year he’s gone from flying clay to something that could generously be called a bowl

user14: and an “artistic” vase!

oscarpiastri: definitely better then last time

landonorris: mate…

oscarpiastri: you don’t pay your cleaner enough

landonorris: mate!! get out of my comments

charles_leclerc: keep trying! Maybe one day you’ll get there

landonorris: yeah say goodbye to your Christmas present

charles_leclerc: 👎🏻

alex_albon: will be there! And will definitely be recording - gotta have proof 😂

landonorris: is it national bully lando day here or something?

user15: yes

user16: yes

oscarpiastri: yes

charles_leclerc: yes 👍🏻

georgerussell63: yes

alex_albon: yes!!

maxverstappen1: yes

danielricciardo: yes!

carlossainz55: yes!

landonorris: you freaking muppets!

user17: ok but am I the only one who noticed he kept looking to the side and like beaming?

user18: no but I thought I was going insane? Like he was so soft?

user17: yeah! definitely getting the feeling he wasn’t the only one there. Just who are you looking at?

user18: dare we say little lando norris has a partner now?

landonorris

liked by potterymadeeasy, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, and 2,723,944 others

landonorris: haha! I did kt! A mug a vase and a bowl!! On to the next step - glazing! And you muppets didn’t think I could do it

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user19: woohoo! Congrats lando! Those look so so good!

user20: and those glazes are gonna be fire when they’re done. I use the same brand and colors he did and they turn out AMAZING

user19: ok don’t be shy drop the names plz

potterymadeeasy: those look great!

landonorris: thank you! Had a great teacher 😉

user21: ariana (potterymadeeasy) what are you doing here?

user22: thoughts are being thunk

user23: unthunk those thoughts right now

user22: sorry…thots are being thunk rn

user23: nurse she’s out again!

user21: really? Under my comment thread?

user24: I’ve connected the dots.

user25: you’ve connected shit

user24: no I’ve connected them

user25: god get a life

charles_leclerc: congrats!

carlossainz55: it only took a few months…

alex_albon: a couple of different throwing wheels

georgerussell63: and 3 different cleaning companies

landonorris: I’m gonna run you all over with my car

mclaren: legally this is a joke

landonorris

liked by potterymadeeasy, danielricciardo, carlossainz55, and 2,922,713 others

landonorris: first round of my ceramics are currently cooking in the kiln. Starting a new batch and stretching my creative skills

view all comments

user26: holy shit those look INCREDIBLE

user27: I’m so shocked! I just started watching the old streams so like in the course of a day he went from wet clay lumps to these masterpieces

user28: I’m so so proud of him - I’m currently trying to get into pottery and ceramics and watching him keep at it is so inspiring

user26: user28 you can do it! Persistence is key

oscarpiastri: man thinks he’s Picasso now…but for real congrats lando. Those look good! And functional too

landonorris: I’m only gonna give you the lumpy ones actually

oscarpiastri: I’m good thanks

landonorris: 🙃

oscarpiastri: honestly proud of you. You’ve come a long way

landonorris: thanks mate!

oscarpiastri: I’m also glad you can stop calling me crying about your latest fuck up

landonorris: you muppet!

danielricciardo: too soon to call dibs on that dragonfly mug?

landonorris: after the way you continuously kept laughing at me?

danielricciardo: in encouragement?

landonorris: 😑

danielricciardo: 🥹🧡?

landonorris: fine 🙄

user29: ok yeah good job on those designs and whatever but are we gonna mention those HEART MUGS?!

landonorris: 😂🧡😉

user29: get back here and answer some questions! What? Does? That? Mean?

landonorris: 🏃🏻‍��️💨

user29: SIR!

maxverstappen1: i see you’re finished making my present but really? Matching heart mugs?

landonorris: not actually for you!

maxverstappen1: heart❤️ been broke💔🤕 so many times⏰ i don’t know❌🤷‍♀️ what to believe 🍃🙏

landonorris: …who are you and where is max?

maxverstappen1: I thought what we had was special

landonorris: not my favorite relationship anymore! Sorry 🧡

maxverstappen1: 💔

potterymadeeasy: those look good!

landonorris: I had a good teacher 🧡

potterymadeeasy: flatterer

landonorris: always 😉

User22: !!!

User23: shut up shut up shut up

landonorris

liked by yourpriv, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, and 3,123,321 others

landonorris: kiln unveiling and some upcoming projects!

listen. when I randomly decided that I wanted to learn how to make ceramic dishes, it was mostly because I wanted to make something with my own 2 hands — and when I wasn’t immediately good at it, I decided that I wouldn’t stop until I was.

Its been a long couple of months with a lot of struggles but I can finally say that I’m proud of how far I’ve come. It hasn’t been easy but the journey and the process has been fun and i genuinely can’t wait to see what comes next!

view all comments

user30: I’m? Crying? 😭

user31: omg same!!! To see how far he’s come and to hear that he’s finally proud of himself too…

user32: we’re excited for you too!

user33: excited? For what? Some more mediocre “Art” by some mediocre man?

user32: go fuck yourself. And get out of my comments. And off lando’s page

used34: user33 how about you go get some sun and maybe shove some kindness up yours! 🖕

oscarpiastri: seriously, congratulations. Those look incredible

landonorris: thanks mate! I do appreciate your support

oscarpiastri: and my cupboards appreciate your work

user34: 🩵🩵 ahhh he’s giving away his pieces

alex_albon: it’s been a fun ride watching you!

landonorris: thanks i think

alex_albon: no problem!

alex_albon: and could you send me the name of your newest cleaning crew? They most be ungodly good

landonorris: and there it is… cleaningcrew

alex_albon: anyway i could get a series of mugs inspired by albon_pets?

landonorris: I’ll need a lot of pretty good pictures

alex_albon: on it 🫡

landonorris: in fact I might need to visit in person

albon_pets: yay! We love ❤️ getting visitors

user35: UMMM?!? That 5th photo?!?

user36: IS THIS A SOFT LAUNCH? DOES LITTLE LANDO NORRIS FINALLY HAVE A PARTNER AGAIN?!?

landonorris: 🫢🤫

user36: YOU CANT KEEP GETTJNG AWAY WITH THIS

landonorris: 😂🏃🏻‍♂️💨

yourpriv: my love, I’m so proud of you! Putting yourself out there in the world to learn something new is never easy but you have done it with amazing persistence and talent.

landopriv: babe… you know I couldn’t do it without you

yourpriv: oh I have no doubt you would have gotten here on your own

landopriv: no. No i don’t think I would have. I’m a fast guy and I’m used to fast results. When I reached out to you, it was a last resort last string. If it didn’t work out with your help, I was honestly going to quit. You pushed me to get better, to stick with it till I made it.

yourpriv: 🥹🥹🥹

landopriv: I’m serious. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me — i love you 🧡

yourpriv: 🥹🥰🧡 I love you too hun

maxverstappen1: can’t lie — it was a fun ride watching you fail but I also can’t wait to see what you make next

landonorris: …thanks for your support 😑🙄😅

maxverstappen1: you know it!

landonorris

liked by yourpriv, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 2,997,245 others

tagged: yourpriv, potterymadeeasy

landonorris: no time for a soft launch. Thank you honey for teaching me pottery and for designing such a bomb ass helmet!

comments have been limited on this post

potterymadeeasy: Lando! We had a plan!

landonorris: 🤷🏻‍♂️

landonorris: love ya!

potterymadeeasy:…love you too!

[spdrvyn]

out and about: MIGUEL O'HARA

a short drabble about miguel making time to go on a shopping spree with you in a newly opened mall, however you can't help but feel a little shopper's guilt while he's there.

it's been a busy last couple of months to say the least, miguel hadn't been on a proper date with you for a while. you said that you were doing just fine, but he always had a sixth sense about this.

besides, while he was tending to his job of being a multiversal protector, he's neglected his other (and arguably more important) job. being a supportive and present boyfriend.

he forced himself to clear his calendar, turned on DND mode on all of his devices for once, and got into something that wasn't a skin tight nanotech suit. you'd been overjoyed to discover that miguel had stayed home today, moreso when he told you to get ready because he'd be taking you to the mall to buy a couple of things.

a couple of things was an understatement.

whenever you kept your eyes too long on a certain shop, miguel would usher you in to look around a little. if you so much as touched an item, miguel would already be at the cashier and buying it for you. it went on like that for the entire trip.

bag upon bag hung onto miguel's arms, yet he didn't even seem to struggle. it was attractive, but made you all the more guilty because what if he wasn't actually enjoying this? sure, he brought some items along with you, but what if those purchases were to just spare your feelings?

not to mention that the mall was practically colossal in size. if you said that you wanted to go home, miguel would be thinking that he'd done something wrong. that would be even worse. to add on, you haven't even checked if this place had a book store and miguel knows well that you can't leave a mall without taking a peak which would make him even more suspicious.

you also had to stop at a cafe every now and again to let your throbbing legs rest from walking around the whole time, miguel probably had more weighing on his back. you despised the fact that you were stealing his precious time, you couldn't begin to imagine what could be happening back at his workplace without him. would those people manage to survive? would the multiverse survive?

after visiting the last shop of the day, you were relieved to finally have an excuse to tell him that you were tired and wanted to go back home. miguel understood that, but your silence the whole car ride back was deafening. he thought for sure that this would mean a lot to you, the mall felt tailored to your interests, you'd bought a lot.

why weren't you happy?

what did he do wrong?

you insisted on helping him bring the bags back in, which he indulged you to. after setting them all back into the flat, it was already dark. miguel assisted you in unboxing everything you bought, which you did with a sullen look on your face. especially when you were done, looking over all the unwrapped items, how your pile was so much bigger than his. it could bring you to tears. and it did.

as miguel wrapped an arm around you, he felt it. the slight shiver in your shoulders, the muffled hiccup, and the glossiness on your eyes. worry settled in his features, he pulled you closer to him. "hey, hey. what's wrong? you don't like the stuff i—"

you burst into a fit of sobs, face going red and eyes puffed. you desperately tried to wipe away the tears that streamed down, as you whimpered. "i love it, miguel! i love it so much, but- it's just–"

god, he hated seeing you like this. not because you looked ugly crying or because he found it annoying but because of his incompetence. he had one fucking job, way simpler than whatever he did at work. to make you happy, to make you content, this wasn't what he wanted.

"don't cry, please. i'm sorry, lo siento, por favor. baby, if there is anything else i can do for you, i'll do it."

"that's the thing! you've already done so much for me today, you're so– so nice, too nice, that- that i don't know how to give it back."

your crying had eased a little, miguel's face had softened. he's been trying compensate for how little he's been giving you, that's all, but he didn't think about how you are. maybe he's been too nice recently, but you're too nice all the time.

"you don't have to give anythig i do back, mi vida," he sighed as he moved his hands to cup your cheeks, thumbs rubbing the fat of your cheek as your remaining tears smeared across the skin. "just you being here is enough, it's just that i've been— a little absent lately. i wanted to make it up to you."

"you didn't have to do that, miguel. just you being here is enough for me too." you sniffled. god, you were too adorable for him to take at times. he leaned in and pressed a small kiss to the bridge of your nose, to each of your cheeks, then moving down to press one quickly to your lips.

"let's just do that then," he murmured, "be with each other. s'all i need, all i want." and you agreed. wholeheartedly so.

dividers by across-the-art-verse

[biblio-smia]

currently thinking about mike slowly falling for a cute barista, frequenting the coffee shop more for the barista than the coffee. mike has spent way too much money there, convincing himself he'll talk to you with each additional cup he purchases (he never does). the most progress he's made is saying "hi" and "how are you?" while he pays, his order and his name already memorized by you. he kind of hates it, since it gives him less time to talk to you, but it also gives him less of an opportunity to embarrass himself in front of you - and the way his name sounds coming from you makes his heart flutter.

mike is convinced it's officially over when he accidentally knocks into you in an attempt to finally start a real conversation, the hot coffee in your hands spilling all over his white uniform shirt.

apologies start frantically spilling out from both of you, your hands pulling napkins out of your apron and trying to soak up as much of the brown liquid up (though you were probably making it worse). mike's face went hot as you pressed napkins against his arms, unable to feel the heat of the coffee over his own flush.

mike assured you not to worry about it but you shook your head and dragged him to the employee's room, searching through a box of uniforms for something that'd work.

you promised you'd dry clean the stain out despite mike's resistance, refusing to take no for an answer.

after changing into a white shirt that mike hoped his boss wouldn't notice had the name of the coffee shop stitched on the front, mike shakily exchanged phone numbers with you per your request, walking out of the coffee shop so dazed he almost runs straight into the door.

Mike Schmidt

Hi!

it’s mike by the way

you smile at the text, as if mike himself didn’t add his full name to your contacts.

hi! :)

you reply quickly.

Mike Schmidt

i didn’t text about the shirt by the way

that’s totally fine

i just wanted to ask how you were doing?

you smiled at how uncertain and awkward mike was, even over text. at least he was actually making conversation now.

i should be asking you that

i kinda spilled coffee all over you, i’m not sure if you remember that?

Mike Schmidt

i think i might

very faintly

but then this very attractive person asked for my number and i think i forgot all about it

woah.

just to keep you updated on your shirt!

;)

i hope you didn’t get into any trouble at work?

Mike Schmidt

oh my boss did NOT notice

my littler sister did though

she’s calling it “the case of the missing shirt”

my money’s on her to solve it

Mike Schmidt

she’s very smart

she sounds like she is

your shirt will be ready tomorrow

i could drop it off at your house?

i’d feel bad if you came to pick it up

Mike Schmidt

sure

would you be alright with coming by after 8?

sorry it’s so late that’s when i get off work

you don’t have to

no!! that’s fine

i get off at 7 tomorrow anyways

i’ll see you then?

Mike Schmidt

see you then

:)

the case of the missing shirt gets solved. though, abby has a new mystery to solve at your arrival: why does her brother get so red when you come over?

[sparkle-fiend]

Fruity Four Advent Calendar, Day 21: “Midwinter Night”

When they come across the tree in Walmart, Eddie practically starts to vibrate with excitement. "We gotta get it, Steve, please. Please, please, please. I need that tree."

They're shopping for decorations for their first ever apartment together, and they do need a tree, but... "Why that one?" It's obviously artificial, 7 ft tall and solid white. 

"We never had space for a real tree, so Wayne got a little plastic one that fit on the coffee table. It looked just like this one." Eddie waves his hand at the tree in question, like a magician showing off a trick. "I loved that thing." 

Looking at his boyfriend's bright, hopeful face, Steve easily concedes. 

They add some ornaments, a string of rainbow-colored lights, and a tinsel star to complete the recreation of Eddie's childhood tree. 

Once it’s all set up, they stand back and admire the way the lights shine pink, blue, yellow, and green against the white branches. It does look pretty; plus, Steve’s father would hate it - which adds to the appeal. 

(Sometimes the flash of colored light makes his heart race, bringing to mind the memory of a charging demogorgon, or the burst of fireworks against melted flesh in the atrium of Starcourt mall - but Steve ignores it. It'll be fine.)

It is fine... until it's not.

***

Steve comes home, tired and feeling the start of a migraine. He heads through the living room toward the kitchen, intending to grab some water and a Tylenol - when the upstairs neighbor cuts on a vacuum. The muted roar doesn't sound much like a demogorgon, but with the Christmas lights twinkling nearby it's enough to trip something in Steve's weary brain.

He's not in their apartment anymore. He's in the dimly lit hallway of the Byers' house, the smell of gasoline burning in his nose. The lights are flashing, which means the monster is coming - but he doesn't have his bat. He fumbles around the coffee table, searching... it was just here a minute ago, right? His heart is pounding like a drum, pulse rushing loud enough to muffle the voice calling his name.

"Steve? Steve?!"

He can't tell if it's Nancy or Jonathan, but they sound frightened. "Hold on Nance!"

Warm hands grip him by the shoulders. "STEVE!!"

If he doesn't find that bat they're going to die, and it'll be his fault... all his fault... 

"Please baby, come back to me. It's okay - you're okay."

It's not Nancy or Jonathan. Not Robin or Dustin or Erica calling his name.

It's Eddie leaning over him, dark curls falling like a curtain over Steve's face. His cheek is smudged, and for a second Steve thinks it's blood. They're back in the Upside Down and Eddie is bleeding out under his hands...

"Steve," Eddie says softly. He's warm and healthy, wounds sealed into scars; and the smudge on his cheek is just sauce. 

Because he was in the kitchen cooking dinner. Steve can smell it now, sausage and tomato and garlic.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Eddie asks gently.

Steve tries to explain without mentioning the lights, but Eddie knows him too well. He asks just the right questions to work it all out, and the look of guilt that crosses his face hurts worse than a blow to the head. 

Eddie gets up and goes to the tree, yanking the plug from the wall and plunging the room into gloomy darkness. "Ed, you don't have to do that..."

"I do Steve, I absolutely do.”

Steve sighs. It's the night of the winter solstice - the longest, darkest night of the year. It'll be even darker with the tree stripped of lights. "At least wait until tomorrow."

Eddie pauses his task of carefully unwinding the light strands from the tree without disturbing the ornaments. "Come here." He tugs Steve off the floor and maneuvers him onto the sofa. 

"Lay down for a minute, okay? I got this." He fetches a cool cloth and a glass of water, along with the Tylenol Steve originally meant to find.

"What about dinner?"

"It's done. I'll just pop it in the fridge, and we can eat when you're feeling better."

Steve wants to protest, but the pain in his temples has escalated to a blinding pitch. He agrees to close his eyes for just a minute - drifting off to the sound of Eddie humming softly in the background.

He wakes to the same sound and assumes that only a few minutes have passed; until he sees the clock. "Two hours? Shit, you shouldn't have let me sleep so long!"

Eddie shrugs. "You needed it. Besides, I had to run an errand."

He leans behind the tree and plugs a cord into the outlet, filling the room with a soft yellow glow. Apparently, Eddie had replaced the lights while he slept.  Clear, simple bulbs - no frills or flashing patterns. "Are these okay? Be honest." 

Steve nods. It's not as pretty as it was before, but it's comforting; like the lamp he used to keep by his bed. 

Eddie reheats dinner and they eat it straight from the pot, so there won't be more dishes to worry over. The plan was to watch a movie, but Steve is still exhausted even after his nap - worn out by the headache and the panic attack; so they just cuddle together in front of the tree.

Curled against Eddie, head resting easy on his boyfriend’s shoulder, Steve says, “I'm sorry about the tree. It doesn't look like the one you had growing up anymore."

Eddie puts an arm around him and squeezes. "I like this better. We're making a new tradition."

[shunin-gumis]

Designs of Happiness - Track A14

L4mps Main Story Translation

Title: Imposed Blessings

Characters: Nagi

Summary: Nagi is working alone at his shop after abruptly leaving the Friday Film viewing. The protagonist chases after him, and he finally explains his unique predisposition.

Thank you aca @463ce6, jes @arcanecrayonn myun @/myuntachis and Niri for helping me with proofing!

Also a gentle request from me, please do listen to the chapter in-game alongside the translation if you don't do so already, the voice acting is very precious 🥺🥺

Location: Flower Laundry

Sonia: Nagi-shan, here ish all the flowers you can use! 

Nagi: …Oh no. This isn’t nearly enough.

Sonia: You came back all of a sudden from HAMA House, sho you have no right to complain! 

Nagi: Sorry. Please get whatever’s left in the storehouse too.

Sonia: Aye aye, Shir! Geez, I’ll bring back as much as I can!

*bell jingles*

Customer A: ‘Scuse me! Sorry for popping in last minute—

Nagi: Oh, that’s alright. What can I do for you?

Customer A: Just a quick question– Does the laundromat here accept IzuPay? 

Nagi: IzuPay… Ah, we don’t use that here yet. There were plans to add it as an option but it was delayed… Sorry about that.

Customer B: Darn… out of luck, huh. I guess it makes sense, not everyone would bother getting the ward’s special payment method.

Nagi: Other digital payment options are still available, and we accept cash too.

Customer A: Huh? Can’t believe there’s a laundromat that still takes cash… 

Customer A: I thought they’d all be gone with the ‘Valley of the Sky’ or somethin’. POTHARU! and all that. 

Customer B: Hey, don’t be rude… He’s standing right there, and that scene is long since over. Um, sorry about that. 

Nagi: …It’s fine. 

Nagi: (Right. I guess the film viewing would be over by now, too.)

Nagi: (...Why did I have to think about that now?)

Nagi: (I wouldn’t have lasted much longer in that situation… Just thinking about it gives me chills. I’m sorry I didn’t stick with Toi till the end, but I had no choice, I had to leave for everyone’s sake—)

Sonia: I’ve prepared the flowers for you!

Nagi: Thanks. —Let’s go, we need to leave right now.

??: Um, excuse me… 

Nagi: Oh, yes, welcome—

Momiji: Good evening… again.

Nagi: …… 

Momiji: Do you mind if we talk for a bit, Nagi-kun?

Momiji: …… 

Momiji: (I can’t believe he ran out of HAMA House during the viewing… I guess he must’ve hated it that much, huh…)

Momiji: (Maybe I was being too naive in thinking that he’d open up with enough time…) 

Nagi: …… 

Nagi: (I can’t believe she noticed I’d left… I might have messed this up worse than I’d thought. She must be annoyed with me…)

Nagi: (No, I shouldn’t jump to conclusions, maybe she’s just here to check up on me. I clearly suck at communicating with others, so that might have gotten her worried…)

Nagi: (Still, it doesn’t change the fact that I troubled the Chief… I’m worth less than a plant louse that preys on flowers. I mean, even plant lice are useful to ants, yet I’m…)

Nagi: (No one would want a Ward Mayor that’s worth less than a louse.)

Nagi: (I wanted to take responsibility and see this job through to the end, but…)

Momiji: …You see, Yodaka-san just informed me earlier. 

Nagi: Yes?

Momiji: That you haven’t slept at HAMA House even once, Nagi-kun.

Nagi: …… 

Nagi: (So he knew. He’s too sharp to slip past, huh.)

Momiji: …… 

Momiji: (Ah… He’s tensed up.)

Momiji: (I wonder if I should’ve approached it more delicately…)

Momiji: (I’d readily help him if he’d just let me know what he’s having trouble with, or if there’s something he’d like changed… But what if he says that he never wanted to be a Ward Mayor in the first place? Hrm… What should I say…)

Nagi: …… 

Nagi: (She looks really troubled… I feel guilty that she’s worried over someone like me.)

Nagi: (I should just explain everything, even if it makes me uneasy. I know it’s the right thing to do, but… If I really just blurt everything out, she’d probably think I’m some kind of weirdo.)

Nagi: (But if I keep quiet any longer, she might feel hurt instead. What should I do…)

Nagi: (...The cyclamen at the storefront just caught my eye… In flower language, they mean “resignation” and “words of parting”...)

Nagi: (And next to it are the anemone, meaning “abandonment,” and the calendula, “sorrow of parting.”)

Nagi: (I see… I get it now.)

Momiji: Um… 

Nagi: (I should… brace myself.) 

Nagi: …… 

Nagi: …If I don’t hand out flowers, it rebounds. 

Momiji: Huh?

Nagi: The other side of the Yajirobe*. 

Momiji: Uh?

Nagi: This is just a theory of mine.

Momiji: O-Okay… 

Nagi: I believe that, just like with human emotions, if a person experiences great fortune or misfortune, then they will eventually have to return to a neutral state.

Momiji: Uh huh...?

Nagi: In my case, the rebound is especially strong. If I experience any fortune, then misfortune is sure to follow soon after. 

Nagi: That’s what happened when I got caught in that bee trap before; I’m sure it’s because I’d won a set of tissue boxes the day before, at a raffle in the shopping district.

Nagi: This is my theory on the phenomenon I call “The Yajirobe of Fortune and Misfortune.”

Momiji: I-I see... It’s like when people say bad luck doesn’t last forever, or how something good is bound to follow after something bad… Is it like that?

Nagi: …Are you a genius? I feel embarrassed for making up a whole theory now. I’ll just use your explanation next time.

Momiji: No, no, I understood what you were trying to say with your Yajirobe theory.

Nagi: …To avoid having the Yajirobe go crazy, I need to avoid any situation that might make me happy, intentionally or not. 

Nagi: Even a single slice of cake is too much for me. That sort of kindness… is too much happiness for me to bear. 

Momiji: (So he’s saying the cake made him so happy that he had to avoid accepting it, and even ran out of the dorm just so he could avoid inviting misfortune…)

Nagi: But sometimes, no matter how careful I am, the happiness just piles up anyways.

Nagi: That’s when I bring these out.

Momiji: Flowers…?

Nagi: My special ability– Flower Power: Imposed Blessings*.

Momiji: …Um?

Nagi: By imbuing flowers with the energy from my accumulated happiness, I can impose the excess onto others. There's no limit to how many flowers can be handed out. The only debuff I have to suffer is embarrassment.

Momiji: (Oh…)

Momiji: (Is that why he was handing out flowers in the middle of the street the first time I met him…?)

Momiji: (Honestly, I’m not sure how much of this I’m supposed to believe… But at the very least, I can tell Nagi-kun is being serious about this.)

Momiji: I…see. So if you give away your flowers—

Nagi: The misfortune’s rebound gets weaker. 

Momiji: –The misfortune’s rebound gets weaker…… Right. 

Nagi: (As expected, she looks really confused.)

Momiji: Um, let’s see if I got this right– You felt that joining HAMA Tours, and living at HAMA House would—

Nagi: Accumulate a debt of happiness.

Momiji: Which is why you left.

Nagi: Yes. Something like–

Nagi: Something like working together, and living alongside others, just like a ‘family’... There’s no way to predict the amount of happiness I’d receive from just being there.

Momiji: (The amount of happiness…)

Nagi: Being surrounded by happiness like that… Holding hands, and shouting POTHARU together with everyone—

Nagi: It wouldn’t surprise me if an earthquake hit right after, and HAMA House ended up as a pile of rubble…! 

Momiji: …… 

Nagi: (She looks stunned. I guess that’s expected.)

Nagi: (It was just impossible for someone like me, who’s always avoided other people, to suddenly work with others and live alongside them.)

Nagi: (She probably thinks I’m a weirdo. It’s not something you can wrap your head around. It’s a natural reaction.)

Nagi: (I’ll just get myself fired right here and now, so I can return to my old lifestyle. A life with no big waves, just the mundane everyday.)

Momiji: I understand your situation now.

Nagi: …… 

Momiji: Can I have all your flowers, then? 

Nagi: …… 

Nagi: —Huh?

Momiji: You just have to reduce that, um, debt of happiness, by giving away your flowers, right?

Momiji: But it’s probably difficult for you to find people to give flowers to on a daily basis, huh?

Nagi: …Is that… where this conversation is supposed to go?

Momiji: I think so?

Momiji: Then um, maybe your costs increase because you have to give out more flowers?

Nagi: No, that’s not really a problem. I can get a good discount if I buy it in bulk, so… 

Momiji: I see. Then, it’s just a problem of who you can give your flowers to. Accosting strangers to give them flowers is probably taxing for you, and confusing for the other person too.

Momiji: But, since I know what’s going on, I can take as many flowers as you want to give away.

Nagi: I… I guess that makes sense. 

Nagi: Wouldn’t it be a bother to you…?

Momiji: Of course not. You can never have too many flowers! I mean, flowers give a feeling of a fresh beginning, you know? They’re always nice to have.

Nagi: …… 

Nagi: Here.

Momiji: Oh! A flower! Thank you very much. You popped that out like some kinda magician!

Nagi: …Flowers have always been a part of my life, before I’d even realized it. That’s why, it’s always there, right beside me, where I can reach for it whenever I want.

Momiji: Still, what a large flower! What’s it called?

Nagi: Peony.

Momiji: Aw, it’s so pretty! And it smells so good too!

Nagi: —......

Nagi: Next, this one.

Momiji: It has such a unique shape… What’s its name? 

Nagi: Serruria.

Momiji: It’s so peculiar and cute! I wonder what I should decorate with it… 

Nagi: Here.

Momiji: This is a crazy amount! It’s starting to look like a huge bouquet at this point!

Nagi: Here.

Momiji: Oh dear, the colors are clashing…!

Nagi: Here.

Momiji: I can’t see in front of me anymore…! *giggles* But—

Momiji: Thank you, Nagi-kun!

Nagi: I should be the one saying that.

Nagi: Thank you for taking on my happiness, Chief. 

Notes:

Yajirobe is a term used for Japanese balancing toys. The mechanism involves balancing the main body at a fulcrum and making sure it doesn’t tilt too far in either direction before it’s balanced again, swinging back like a pendulum.

The name of Nagi’s ‘special ability’ literally translates to “imposing happiness/good fortune onto others through giving away flowers” which is super long hence why it got changed. He’s the type to make up silly names anyways.

Flower Language:

Peony Bashfulness, Shyness

Serruria Yearning, Beautiful heart

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Masterlist

[luimagines]

Out of all the links that don't really like humans, how would they react if they found out their soulmate was a human? Would any of them try to deny it, or would they try to learn to accept it and move past their dislike for humans for their soulmates sake? The idea of a hylian that hates humans, and a human that doesn't trust hylians very much because of their obvious dislike of humans, going through enemies to lovers is so interesting to me. And it has the potential for some hilarious moments I think 😆

You. You get the potential.

Warrior, Legend, Hyrule and Four are the ones that are the most "skeptical", to put it nicely. Time is a pure middle ground.

Time would likely need little convincing but he's incredibly apathetic, not wanting to get too close for personal reasons. I mean he's had to say goodbye to everyone who was ever important to him. It's not even about Reader being human. His issues are more about being soulmates tbh.

Four is the runner up. His soulmate would need to put in a little work (whether they know it or not), but it'll be fairly easy to get past his defenses afterward. Humans, with the superior weaponry and craftmanship, would be able to garner the respect and admiration of the blacksmith once they start talking shop. All Four needs is a little time to get used to the idea and eventually grow to not care about what they are and begin to care about who they are.

Legend is all snark and attitude and it'll take something literally hitting him in the head to get him to consider Reader as potential. It sound like I'm trying to be metaphorical. Nah. Legend is gonna have to be in a life or death situation where Reader save his hide before he's going to admit to anything, let alone start to open up to them.

Hyrule is worse believe it or not. He won't be snarky, but he'll avoid Reader like the plague purely on principle. It's not even actively being disrespectful, he's just got Reader on the peripheral if they ever decide to act up. He's got zero reason to trust them and doesn't want to give them any opportunity to prove him right. He'll be civil.... on good days. But good luck getting him to even look in Reader's direction. And add soulmates on top of that? Hyrule is gonna just ignore it all together. Because- no. It can't be. He refuses. And if he believes hard enough, maybe it'll manifest into reality.

Warrior takes the cakes. Good luck, Reader. You'll need all the help you can get. Fervently thinks of Reader as an enemy even if they have never met before that. In fact, being his soulmate makes him hate them more. Because of course they are his soulmate. Just his luck. Surrounded by traitors and sketchy people just like before. Now, we know he has no reason to think this way, but he's not afraid of voicing his "distaste", for the lack of better words. He's like Legend in which he's going to need a life or death situation for Reader to gain his respect. and he's like Hyrule in which he'll avoid Reader at all costs. But to be his soulmate? He's gonna need even more time than Four. He's got ideas and they run deep. You'll the patience and determination of Frisk from Undertale just to even remotely be considered on good terms with this guy. Of course, there's potential for him to come around- just like all the other boys. But he's quite literally worse case scenario.

[f1oricide]

We all have cravings

Yan! Mikey x reader

This is kinda like a part two for the Yan Mikey hc I made. Also just know this is strictly fiction, I do NOT support this Irl if you do please seek help. This is my contribution to horrortober ig. I did not proof read this at all so I hope u enjoy my brain rot.

Tw: build up, poor writing, blood, kidnapping, yandere themes, cannibalistic themes, anxiety, panic attacks, nonconsensual touching (nonsexual), overall bad time for y/n

I hate my job. Customer service is bitch in a half, I swear to god customer service employees are doing gods work. I can’t even wipe tables in piece without some lady yelling at me about how her frappe has too much ice like it’s a global issue. What’s worse is how I spend 8 hours of my life for this, I need a better job.

Walking down the slightly empty streets of New York, my body aching for my beloved bed. I look at the shops as I walk by, absorbing all the trinkets and doodads inside. One place though, stopped me in my tracks, a quaint little bakery near by an alleyway. the inside had a golden glow to it, it was almost unreal, beautiful, and the smell was amazing.

so as any normal young adult would do, I walk in, not knowing what I want to buy. I instantly feel regret setting inside my stomach, why did I walk in? Oh god I can’t just leave without buying anything, maybe they didn’t noticed I walked in? Looking around right as that thought sped through my mind, I made eye contact with the baker, they greeted me, but god of course they saw me.

Well due to social obligation, I HAVE to buy something. Panic started to rise as I still have no idea what to buy, knowing the baker isn’t even rushing me, the panic is still there. Just as I thought all hope was lost, I felt another pair of eyes on me. Turning I see a man in a trench coat and fedora, staring at me through the glass like I’m one of the wonders of the world. Weirdo. We make eye context for a second before he snaps out of it, and stumbles inside.

Thank god, an out I thought as the man walked closer to the counter. “You can order first if you’d like, Im still deciding.” We made eye contact again, despite the added difficulty the fedora he was wearing made. “Wow, thanks stranger! You know this place has some delicious raspberry sweet rolls! I totally recommend them if you haven’t tried any!” Sweet rolls? As a recommendation? This dude just keeps getting weirder and weirder, but considering I don’t know what else to get, I might as well try it, what’s the harm? “Hmm that does sound tempting, maybe I will” making sure to add a smile after, the man seems to beam at my remark. “Trust me, they are AMAZING especially with some chamomile tea and vanilla scones”

Pfft- What are you? A rich old white British lady? “Pfft hahahah! Good one, it really does sound like I am huh?” He continues to laugh even harder as the “joke” sets in as I stare in shock and horror. Did I really just say that out loud? “My names Mikey, what’s yours stranger?” He says while wiping a tear from his eye. “Oh uhm- y/n” were doing introductions now I guess. “Well y/n it’s nice to meet you” holding his hand out, I didn’t fail to notice the green skin and the three fingers outstretched towards me.

Oh my god, what the hell?! An excuse, think of an excuse. “We should probably order, don’t wanna hold up the line” good one me. He looks behind us and I follow suit; low and behold, no one else of course. He chuckles before turning back to me and says, “I guess you have a point”. Retracting his hand he turns to the cashier and places his order. The cashier told him that he’s gonna have to wait for 20 minutes for it to be ready, Mikey nods and turns to me before asking the cashier for those raspberry sweet rolls. Oh god-

“Oh can you make those separate?” I sputter before Mikey quickly answers, “I insist, I don’t want you to waste your money if you don’t like it!” Convincing argument plus free food? You win this round “Mikey”.

After paying Mikey and I go to sit down at a nearby booth. Maybe I have him pegged wrong my mind started rationalizing. Maybe it’s a medical condition? We sat for a good minute in silence as I’m overthinking per usual. “So, what do plan to do with a whole loaf of zope bread?” I say to avoid the loud thoughts buzzing through my head. “Oh! Well I was planning on making it myself but I might as well try this places zone, I’m planning on pairing it with some-“ before he can continue, the cashier called out the raspberry sweet rolls to catch out attention.

I got the rolls and walked back to the booth. “Well, here’s my order”

…

“So…see ya…”

Before I could even take a step though, Mikey shot up “whaaat?! B-but you didn’t even try it! I want to see if you like it or not!” He stared at me with pleading eyes, like a dog begging it’s human for a treat. Why is he so invested in this? “I didn’t think you’d want to know my feedback..” “well duhhh, I recommend it to you, I just have to know i hit the nail on the head!” Oh… well whatever it takes to leave faster. I grabbed a roll and popped it in my mouth, it was EXPLODING with flavor. I think Mikey could tell with the knowing smirk that spread across his face.

After that we started talking more in the restaurant, I got to know him more. Apparently he has three more brothers, when he made me guess which one he was, it wasn’t hard to tell he’s the youngest. Eventually his order was done, disappointment sent in me because, well, this was actually a pleasant interaction with a not so total stranger. Acquaintance if you will. By the time his order was ready, I already ate all the rolls, so I guess this is it.

“It was nice meeting you, I didn’t really plan staying out this late.” I said as we walked out, the sky nearly dark. “It was reallyyy nice meeting you too, you know…” he stated reaching in his pocket. “If you need any more expert cooking advice, give me a call!”

.

.

.

That should’ve been it, but noooo, I just HAD to call back, we just HAD to get to know each other more, he just HAD to show me his “secret” identity…I just HAD to fall in love…no..for his tricks

It all started with food, a fucking roll no less. He fed me and like a wild animal I kept coming back. I ignored all the red flags, all my friends concerns, not noticing how they quickly left my life after venting to Mikey about them. I kept coming back for more like a dumb dumb animal.

But now here I am, a small closet with one twin bed and barren walls, no fan or vent. What did I do to deserve this? What avengers level threat did I cause to end up here? There’s barely anything to do besides relive old mistakes and sweat. Dare I say it, I even miss my job and being a useful member of society.

The door finally opened the reveal the devil himself, Mikey. But somethings off…I’ve been here long enough to read Mikey’s face like a book. He looks nervous, like he wants something nervous… fear started to creep within me, what did he want now?

Usually he brings stuff in like crafts or food and water, but this time, it’s just him. Closing the door behind him, he speaks. “Hi my Angel…” a grimace grew on my face. That nickname used to make me swoon, but now it makes me want to throw up. “I have a very important question to ask you”

This was the question that ruined my life…and I thought it couldn’t get any worse… he wanted me…ME. To… just the thought is making me gag- EAT HIM. LITERALLY. The thoughts in my head started swarming me, his justifications and explanations fall on deaf ears as the room swirls around me. He gently grabs my forearms snapping me back, since when did I start crying? I can’t even breath right, I feel like I’m drowning.

“Listen, I know it sounds really really REALLY crazy, but I need you to trust me… you’ll be okay. This will be good for us! We’ll be together all the time isn’t that great?” No, it’s not great, far from it actually. “I won’t force you to do it now of course, take your time, I’ll wait, I’ll always wait for you”

Ever since then, no matter how much I stalled, it was only putting off the inevitable. No matter what I did, it never swayed him. Actually, it did, but not how I would’ve wanted. He started giving me less and less to eat. It started off small with a few less portions, but I never noticed the twitch in his smile whenever I put down his encouragement to chomp on his arm. He started giving less portions and no breakfast anymore, id be lucky if he gave me dinner.

Im hungry, starving even. It hurts, it hurts so so much. He would always come in more often, lifting his arm and encouraging me to bite. “Come on, you can do it baby”. It pisses me off. How dare you kidnap me after I gave you my trust. How dare you put me in a cramped tiny room, having to solely rely on you for everything. HOW DARE YOU force me to break EVERYTHING I thought was RIGHT all while you look at me and TELL ME YOU LOVE ME.

.

.

.

I hate you. I failed to notice hot tears running down my face. I hate you. I also failed to notice how hard I shook, how my teeth grinding against each other until it hurt. FUCKING I HATE YOU

Red, it’s all I can see. I used laughing when any character in media say they saw red, can you blame me? It sounds so…dumb, but I get it now. I understand, how ironic. Apparently, I could..taste red too…

Snapping back to reality a brick of drowsiness crashes down onto me, I must’ve had some high adrenaline because my jaw started hurting like a bitch. Liquid runs down my jaw, it’s warm..fresh. Why do I feel something on my tongue-

Shock slaps me in the face, my eyes go as wide as saucers, what have I done?? Looking up at Mikey I see the sheer amount of euphoria in his face, his eyes holding so much love, it might spill out. I need this thing out of me, I need HIM out. I gag trying to spit it out but he quickly puts his hand on my mouth. “you can do it, swallow quickly, it’ll all be over, your doing amazing” I don’t even think before swallow the lump down. The worst part about this whole experience was feeling the lump of meat slide down my throat and plop into my stomach. My mouth instantly starts salivating, and I’m forced to question if it’s because of the hunger still in me or the sheer amount of disgust and horror in me trying to throw it up while Mikey whispers sweet nothings in my ear.

Everything is too much. The air is too hot, too heavy, too wet. It feels horrible on my skin. It’s too noisy, to crowded, too much. Mikey only hugs me tight to his chest, his arm still bleeding , all while I lean in considering how it’s the only comfort I’ll get out of this hell hole. “I knew you’d trust me…I love you.. so so sooo much. I’ll never leave your side. We’re bound together as one, isn’t that great?”

All I could do was sob violently, slowly passing out, everything slowly fading to black.

[weirdmorefics]

Unmasked Chpt 6

AO3, Etsy Shop, Youtube,

Chpt 1 Chpt 2 Chpt 3, Chpt 4

Taglist- @bunbunbl0gs @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

TW- bullying, trauma, and night terrors

Word Count- 2,672

"Seems like you have known the captain for a long time," Spencer comments as we make the geographical profile at the station.

I smirk at the comment he must have been thinking about it for a while to bring it up out of the blue. "You mean Dewey?" I try to suppress a giggle I can't believe Dewey is a captain now.

"Dumb name," Reid mumbles and I have to look back because Spencer Ried, boy genius just resorted to preschool taunts.

Garcia apparently heard that whole conversation and of course, had to add her two cents, "Is it just me or do I need a knife to cut through all this tension?" She shimmies her arms tight against her body to demonstrate the "tension".

Luke nods in agreement, " The tension is so tight we can feel it all the way at the coffee maker!"

"Garcia is there a reason you are here or are you just here to delay work," I roll my eyes.

"Of course there is babycakes! Though it looks like Boy Genius is distracting you more than I can manage I am heartbroken," she dramatically puts her hand to her heart.

My cheeks are on fire. Is normal for blushing to physically feel like my skin is melting from embarrassment? I swear I see Spencer smirk out of the corner of my eye. Is my embarrassment so humorous they wish me to die from it!

I roll my eyes and take a deep breath, "What is the reason you came in here?"

"Oh, right! Your sister is," she smiles gesturing to Sid standing at the entrance of the station.

I stand quickly and knock pencils and files off the table we were working at. Why is she here? She hates my job she wouldn't be here unless something is wrong.

Penelope senses my distress, " Don't worry we checked if everything is all right she just wanted to see you."

"Yeah, I am sure that is why she is here," I say under my breath. She trusts the police as far as she can throw them. I understand her distrust after all we have been through but she can't expect me to keep stuff from the team as much as I want to shield them from this mess. I make my way to her and she is shifting on her feet nervously this is making my nerves worse even though I didn't think that was possible with how I have been feeling since landing back in Woodsboro.

"You alright Sid?" I put on the voice I use for reassuring witnesses.

"I need a favor," she curtly responds.

"...okay. Is it legal?" I ask confused by her vagueness.

"Of course, it's legal Y/n!" She shouts a little too loud and I feel other people's eyes on us.

"Let's go somewhere more private," I led her to the small office where Spencer and I were making the geo profile. I shut the door behind us, "so what's this favor?"

"Jeez Y/n you are acting like I am going to ask you to rob a bank or something I am the older sister here I am not going to get you into trouble." She says defensively.

"Well you do have quite the knack of getting us into trouble," I respond before I can think and I know I should not have said it the moment it left my mouth.

"Low blow Y/n," she glares.

I instantly put my hands up in surrender, " I am so sorry Sid I did not mean to say that it just came out I'll do anything you want! What's the favor?"

Her glare is quickly replaced with a grin, "Great! Gale and I will see you at three o'clock tomorrow at Woodsboro High Film Club to answer their questions about the movies and killings."

My jaw drops at her quick turnaround of emotions and that we will be working with Gale. "Are you serious?"

"You said anything this the anything," She smiles.

"Gale are you serious those movies ruined our lives!" I shout louder than intended and see Dewey staring through the office window at the mention of his wife. I quickly shut the blinds I don't need the whole precinct to see the Prescott sisters fighting and start rumors. Small towns are always the worst gossips.

"Be serious N/N! Gale didn't ruin our lives the deranged killers did!" She shouts using my childhood nickname that I hate, I haven't been that child in a very long time.

I sigh, "Fine I'll see you tomorrow."

She smiles but it looks like one of those ones you give to someone you pity and it makes my skin crawl, "Thank you Y/n." I return the smile but I can feel that it doesn't meet my eyes. I don't want to be Y/n Prescott I want to be back at the BAU where things were returning to normal after Scratch and my only problem was Garcia pushing me to confess my feelings to Reid.

As Sid went to leave I saw Garcia, Alvez, Reid, and Dewey all awkwardly pretending like they weren't listening. This oddly comforted me it felt like the BAU shenanigans I was used to. I needed it when I thought about going back to Woodsboro High it made me feel like vomiting. Sidney doesn't know how bad it got once she went to college everyone was terrified of me. They didn't think there was any way I could have survived being a couple years younger and much smaller than the boys they wanted me to break and get it over with. I can't count how many Ghostface masks were left in my locker, Woodsboro was a nightmare that I couldn't escape no matter how far I ran.

Sid left without speaking a word to my team and said a single goodbye to Dewey.

"That's your sister?" Garcia asks shocked.

"Um yes," I chuckle. "You knew that you're the one who told me she was here to see me."

"I know it's just you two are just so... different," Penelope gestures.

"I guess we are different. I'm not really sure I know who she is anymore, I'm not even a Prescott anymore. Sorry that was dumb I don't know what I am saying it's late and I'm tired," I backpedal because I am aware I am being too deep and I just wish to forget while my sister is stuck remembering.

"So why was Sid here?" Dewey asks.

"She wants me to go to the high school with her to hopefully get more clues," I respond

"Will you be okay going there," Dewey's eyes soften.

I gather myself to use my signature fake smile reserved for Woodsboro, "Of course Dewey, I am a BAU agent after all. I have been to much scarier places than high school."

Dewey gives me a questioning glance, "Are you sure? I could go with Sid instead. I am sure she would understand with all that happened to you there."

I widen my eyes does Dewey not know the word discretion! I clear my throat, "Sid actually doesn't know."

"You never told her!" he shouts a little too loud and I am currently regretting our friendship but he also reminds me of Garcia which works in his favor.

"It's fine, I'm fine! I'm going tomorrow it will be fine," I defend.

Dewey rolls his eyes, "Yeah, you keep telling yourself that."

He walks away finally giving up on trying to help me I sigh in relief though that dig at my denial was unnecessary. I turn back to finish up the profile but bump right into Reid.

"Um, hi. How long have you been standing there?" I awkwardly separate myself from Spencer's grasp on my arms.

"Long enough. I'll go to the school with you tomorrow," he responds not even trying to hide the fact he was listening.

I shake my head rapidly, "No you don't have to! I know how hard your high school experience was you don't have to come I'll be fine!"

"Y/n I've been to prison I think your high school will be a breeze in comparison," he smiles.

I shut my eyes tight, "it's a bad place from my standpoint I don't want to put you through more stuff because I can't keep you out of my messy past life."

"I'm sensing something more happened at your school, I won't let you go through it alone. You wouldn't let me go back to mine alone would you?" He asks.

"Of course not!" I exclaim

"Then it's settled, we will go to the school together. You're not alone Y/n don't forget that. We should get back to the hotel it's been a long night," he says leaving no room for questions.

I check the clock I can't believe we worked until two am I definitely need some sleep but I doubt I could get any.

"I am going to check if the rest team wants a ride back to the hotel, wait here. You are not getting out of resting," he demands and it makes me want to laugh at his serious tone over a trivial matter.

He comes back with Tara, Alvez, and Garcia but Rossi and Prentis decide to stay to go over the original case files. We all squish into the van and make our way to one of the few hotels in Woodsboro. We all part ways once we get to the hotel. Tara and Garcia were rooming together, and so were Spencer and Alvez. Prentiss called me as her roommate while I was at my Aunt's house. She wanted to share a room so she could keep a better eye on me as if I didn't already have the whole team constantly watching me. Rossi the lucky bastard always paid for his own room so he could get a single sadly we aren't all published authors who can afford constant hotel stays.

It felt weird entering my hotel room it was the first time I'd been alone since leaving the BAU. Granted that was only one day ago but it felt like eons. I threw my bag on the floor and changed out of my work clothes into some pajama shorts and a tank top. After I immediately threw myself onto the bed, there are no words to describe the type of exhaustion hunting down a killer hellbent on killing you and everyone you love causes. However, the relief from my exhaustion eludes me as I can't stop thinking about who Ghostface will kill next and what different ways will he fuck me up this time. I know I shouldn't take Benedryl for sleep but desperate times called for desperate measures. I take some out of my first aid kit and resume trying to sleep which comes much easier after the pills.

"Isn't it odd that Y/n survived two teenage boys she's just a girl there's no way," disembodied voices invaded my dreams.

"I'd bet money on it that she was in on it jealous of her big sister she always seemed like a freak."

"Can't hide behind Stu and Billy anymore freak," I can hear the girl's voice muffled underwater.

I'm stuck in my teenage body again getting drowned in a toilet. I try to scream for help but that just makes it worse water goes up my nose and I choke. I can hear more laughs join in as I slam my head into the side of the toilet for them to let go.

"Shit she is a freak!" The girl screams and drops my head. "Yuck! I got freak blood on me!"

I heard another girl gasp, "She broke her own head open!"

My head throbs but this isn't right I'm not supposed to be here. This isn't who I am anymore. Even though I say those things the teenage girl me stands with blood dripping down the side of her face and smiles.

"I'll show you freak," past me growls.

I see my past self ripping chunks of hair off this girl's head my blood blending in with the tears of my frustration. I'm screaming I can hear my screams blend with past me's screams as the gaggle of girls pull me back to the ground and try to go back to their original plan of shoving a ghostface mask on my head. My wound is pounding so loud it feels like someone is slamming against a door in my head. At least that's what I thought until another voice breaks through the pounding.

"Y/n! Y/n! Are you alright?" I think that's Spencer's voice. I want to run to him but I am stuck to this bathroom floor. I wrestle against the girls tossing my body as hard as I can.

"Shh, shh, shh. it's me Y/n it's Spence. I'm here," I hear Spencer's voice soothe. I feel his hand brush my hair away from my clammy forehead.

My eyes flutter open and my eyes meet his worried ones. I back up quickly from him I still feel like I'm in the bathroom I have to run. Spencer seems to notice instantly, "Hey, hey, you're safe. You're in the hotel I'm right here no one else."

My breathing feels rapid but as I stare into his eyes I feel the breaths even out. Once I realize where I am I am filled with shame I am a goddamn BAU agent I can't be having nightmares about high school. The more shame I feel the more tears come.

"I am sorry to have worried you it's dumb. I'm dumb. I've survived three Ghostface sprees for Christ's sake I'm an agent for crying out loud. I can't be having nightmares about high school," I sob and stutter I'm surprised he can even understand me.

"You Y/n L/n are far from dumb," he holds my hand and rubs soft circles over the top of it. "You wouldn't think I'm dumb for having nightmares about high school would you?"

"Of course not! You are the smartest person I know!" I sob and sniffle. I hundred percent look like a mess right now.

"Then don't say it to my favorite agent," he lifts his hand to my cheek and wipes my tears away with his thumb.

I smile, "I'm your favorite? Even over Garcia? oh even over Morgan?"

"Yes even over Garcia but technically Derek isn't an agent anymore," he smiles back.

"Should have known I wouldn't come before your bro. Say how did you even get in here?"

"Speaking of Derek I may have stolen one of his moves," we both glance at the door which now has a broken frame.

I laugh, "The Bareu is going to take that out of your check."

"It was worth it to make sure you were okay," his words made me flush and there was no hiding it this time and he did not hide his shameless smirk.

Since I am already to the maximum amount of embarrassment you can be I just ask, "Will you stay with me?"

His smirk disappears replaced with a light blush of his own, "Of course."

He lays down next to me and holds me tight against his chest as if I would disappear into the air if he didn't hold on tight enough.

"What happened to your germaphobia?" I whisper.

"Turns out going to the sharing a shower with hundreds of prisoners and going to the bathroom in front of them kills that fear," he states then tucks his head into the crook of my neck. "Though I don't think I'd ever be afraid to hold you."

I suck in a deep breath at his boldness. Did Spencer Reid just flirt with me? Was Garcia right the whole time that my feelings weren't unrequited?

I feel his warm breath against my neck as lets out a small chuckle, " Goodnight Y/n."

"Good night Spencer... thank you."

[bropunzeling]

writer asks! 6. What's a subtle quirk your protag has? How do you convey it in your writing? (leon) 7. What character do you enjoy writing most? Why? & for seattle au: 8. Are the locations in your fic based on the real world? How accurate are they? Have you added your own locations? (e.g. town, street, building, etc) (talk about your process for making it feel real, have you made any changes, etc.)

6. What's a subtle quirk your protag has? How do you convey it in your writing? (leon)

oh leon.... oh leon. for a genuine quirk quirk i think often of how much of a fidgeter he is, so i really like when i can add in a bit of physical comedy for him to, idk, shred a straw wrapper or scratch his beard or otherwise twitch his way through life. for a like, fundamental personality thing that's very important to me, it's really the way that he speaks before he thinks sometimes! he's a blunt and open person (positive and negative!) and that means you can get some great great scenes/emotional lows from him saying something really hurtful that comes out worse than how he meant it. idk i hate-love writing him in a fight because it can be sooooo ouch.

7. What character do you enjoy writing most?

i already mentioned brady loml but i really do enjoy leon.... it's been a bit of an adventure going back to having him as my pov character because it really is a totally different gear compared to writing from matthew's perspective!!! it's like, man who is going to overthink and over-rationalize everything to the point that he doesn't actually know what's going on (matthew) vs man who is Not Going To See Things until they're too big to ignore (leon)... but i really do love writing leon because his emotions are so big and so pure. also i think ive said this to someone but he really reminds me of my sister in how they have big feelings that can sometimes result in lashing out. idk. it's fun!

8. Are the locations in your fic based on the real world? How accurate are they? Have you added your own locations? (for seattle au)

well as U KNOW i am trying to be v location accurate............ im not naming anything like bars or breweries because like. idk feels weird BUT many of the places im featuring are places ive been! or have driven past fifty times! i know that view! i know that sensation of trying not to die because the lanes on the aurora bridge are way too fuckin narrow! there are a few places where im taking artistic liberties because like. i don't live in queen anne i don't know their coffee shops but i need scenes there for reasons. but hopefully much of it feels, if not 100% accurate, like im capturing the vibe of the city in a particular way.

(i AM planning to hopefully have one ferry scene, bc that is truly peak seattle. that green chain link fence and railing!)

[dabisqueen]

Okay

Listen

I have things to say

First of all, I'm OBSESSED with your writing.

Secondly, I came up with an interesting idea that I would LOVE to see your take on, if you're interested. I am NOT a writer, my ADD won't allow it, but I think your writing would really bring this idea to life...

Touya Catfishing you...

Now HEAR ME OUT

Imagine a modern au Touya catfishing you. Not for any nefarious reason, but because he's self conscious about his scars. We know canonically that he thinks he's ugly af.

He's never had a girlfriend. sure he's had the occasional drunken hook up, but they never stay once they see him in the harsh light of day. None of them can see past his scars. He's tried online dating, only for it to result in the same rejection. Although he loathes to admit it, he's a romantic at heart; he just wants someone to love him. Maybe he met you at your job at a coffee shop, or a book store, either way he's met you and he wants nothing more than to get to know you. so he does something stupid. He knows it's a shitty thing to do, but he did it anyway. he makes a fake Instagram account, opting to use his nickname from high school; Dabi.

but instead of using some random person's pictures, he makes the decision to use his much more attractive (though he'd never admit it) little brother's image. It's the perfect plan, shouto doesn't have an Instagram, opting to stay mostly offline since he had no interest in it and he's got access to all the pictures he could ever need of him to send to you. He'll use his little brother's pictures to reel you in, and when you fall in love with his personality he'll reveal his true self to you. You'll be so in love with him that you won't care about the scars and the lies.... Right?

He begins a conversation with you on insta, he's funny, charming. A real smooth talker. His dry sense of humour compliments your own perfectly.

You guys chat online, about your lives, about your similar interests, and you quickly start to catch feelings for him. After about 2 weeks of strictly dming, you give him your number and you start talking on the phone. And OH, his voice does things to you. He's a sweet talker for sure, but it's more than that. he's everything you want in a partner, and you desperately want to meet face to face. You try to facetime him, only to be met with a blank screen. 'Dabi' tells you his webcam is broken and he hasn't gotten around to getting a new one. You shrug it off, continuing the one sided facetime. Things eventually heat up after a few more weeks, you do things on camera for him that you NEVER thought you would do, but you're falling so hard that you'd do it for him.

The more time that passes, the more suspicious you get. He never got a new webcam, he's never met you in person, siting every excuse in the book as to why he can't meet up with you; He got called into work last minute, he's out of town, he's sick, there was a family emergency. You bought the excuses at first, maybe he just had really bad luck? But the red flags are getting bigger by the day.

Touya knows he should tell you, the longer he waits, the worse it will be when you do find out. He hates disappointing you with another excuse as to why you can't meet, he feels sick to his stomach every time you tell him you love him. He loves you so much it feels like he can't breathe. He had to tell you, he knows..

But everytime he tries, he feels his throat closing and he can't will himself to do it. He's used to rejection; he's been rejected by every love interest he's ever had. Hell, his own father rejected him and he'd been able to move on. But he doesn't think he could take it from you. Not you.

So he tells himself that he'll lie to you for just a little longer. Next time, next time he'll definitely do it.

He never does.

Until one day, you're at work and are surprised by a very familiar bi colored head of hair coming into the shop. It's Dabi, you'd know his unique appearance anywhere. You're elated, he's FINALLY come to meet you, you weren't being scammed, he is real. You call his name excitedly, only for him and his companion, his brother Natsuo, to look at you like you're crazy.

You try again, looking directly at him, but he continues to look confused.

His name is not Dabi. He tells you as much

His name is shouto, and he doesn't even have Instagram. He's nice enough, he feels bad for you, your heartbreak so apparent on your face. The conversation is awkward, and he and Natsuo leave without making a purchase.

You're completely humiliated. He tricked you. Dabi, or whatever his name is, had been catfishing you this whole time.

You take your break to call him, as soon as he answers you let him have it. You don't let him get a word in edgewise. Why would he do this? Was he trying to earn your trust so you'd send him money, or did he derive some sick pleasure from making you fall for him? And oh God, the things you did on camera just for him... Did he screen record them? Was he going to blackmail you with them? Was he going to sell them? No matter how many times he tries to tell you he would never do that, that he loves you, he can't. you keep cutting him off with worse and worse accusations.

You tell him you hate him. To lose your number. You block him on EVERYTHING

It's been weeks. You're heartbroken, he's heartbroken and you don't know if you'll ever recover.

Touya NEEDS to talk to you, to clear things up, to explain himself. If he can just talk to you you'll understand. But try as he might, he can't reach you. As a last ditch effort he does the one thing he'd been avoiding; he goes to meet you in person at your job.

The shop is quiet, your boss decides to close early, sending you home. As you make your way out of the store, keeping your head down, you knock into someone.

You mumble an apology and continue on your way...

Until he speaks up

"... Hey Doll..."

That's all you need to hear to know EXACTLY who he is.

You try to storm past him, all you want is to go home and cry into a strong drink, but he follows you begging, BEGGING for you to hear him out.

You stop, waiting with your back to him to hear what he could possibly say to justify his actions.

So he tells you everything. About his low self image, his disfigurement, the rejection, the hurt. He also tells you how much he loves you, everything he loves about you . He's frustrated, with himself for fucking everything up, with you for making him so nervous. Never in a million years did he think he'd ever be this open with anyone, but he's desperate.

You're still mad, it's not an excuse to do what he did, but you can empathize. And when you do finally look at him, so vulnerable and open, your heart stops.

He's scarred, and pierced and tattooed, but he's so so beautiful.

You take him home, you show him in the most NSFW way possible just how gorgeous you think he is, how his scars don't deter you, how deeply you love him.

You still give him shit after for lying to you, but you'll give him a chance to make it up to you.

And OH BOY does he

WOOOAAAHHHHHHH.... Sp, I wanted to reblog one of my fics this weekend but this is actually way much better!

Thank you so much for sharing, this had me really captivated! I love it when you all share your ideas with me. 💙💙💙💙💙

Now, if you don't mind, share how Dabi DOES make it up to us hehe...

[bookishtheaterlover7]

Hi all one of bookies friends here.

Everyone needs to calm down

Look at the facts.

Video- showed her without ANY ring a lot

Video-could he be anymore obvious with his left

hand.

Everytime he does or has something come out she does something. This time she shot herself in the hand twice.

And no I no longer find Chris attractive. If your team real i dont care. I just dont like seeing my friends on here who are team or get all worked up bwcause its nothing. It is for nothing we've, proven its fake.

How many holes can you put into a hot air balloon before it can't fly anymore?

To the GP (genaral public) they are married so right after all it was exposed the rings are fake. teams are gunna have to do or try and do clean up for a while. We knew this was going to happen. I expect to see shit about one flying here or the other flying there or they both fly to meet each other. I mean how many roumers in 2 days can start about who is where? It just

makes it look worse and more comical. A real couple wouldnt do damage control at all. Just because a website publishes an article doesn't mean it's a website that reports news or the truth. Remember People mag, US weekly etc is are still mags they use click bait. Don't freak out everytime you hear a rumor that she flew here or did this or that . The fact is its been de bunked disproven if they choose to continue on with the PR BS thats on them a lot of fans are not playing along any more. Im.not playjng along anymore im done with it. I saw a post in instagram that sums everything us well it said

"I am on team PR. But if he wants people

to believe he's with her, then we should

just leave him to it. It's true he owes

us nothing but we also don't owe him

our support anymore."

What point is there to get upset or nervous or anxious over something just because there a rumor about a plane ride. If you wanna believe theres a plane ride maybe its to sign a new contract that this shit is over.

You know its fake i know its fake. And you know what they showed they were gifts from cartier. Maybe her team would shse poney up the money to get cz versions. Frankly it would be even funnier.

We dont owe chris anything.

If you feel silly or stupid or being duped by thibking he was a better man than he is dont be, everyone was. It only goes to show the man could've had awards by now if he picked better scripts

Clean up is gunna happen. WE HAVE SEEN IT. the less you play into it the faster itll be over with.

But dont let this distract you or upset you from a joyus holiday season or take away any happiness you're experiencing or could be experiencing. Focus on something positive and happy. At the very least i saw a blog with a debate about who qas hotter Sam or Castiel. Now THAT is some shit worth arguing about. Not an airheaded Nazi

Thank you, my dear An🫶n.

Honestly, this is a serious wakeup call to a lot. That ring debacle/exposure is something to note, and it could be the sign to many of being done.

And if they aren't, well, I'm happy to partially become the blog that becomes a nostalgic stop for old Chris, Chris Evans before he was a shit person in a shit relationship with a shit person, and Chris Evans Characters Appreciation and absolute SIMPING!!! Oh, and the occasional Albitch hate post, because I still hate her 😆

I'm even thinking it's time to add more Fandoms to my roster. Marvel characters are high on that list. So are book discussions, because I am enjoying that as well 😁

We'll see. The world is my oyster now, especially with that big bomb that fell into our laps, as well as the fact I'm on break and about to undergo the busiest month of my life!!!

It's going to be filled with holiday cheer, family love, Christmas shopping, reconnecting with everyone, and focusing on improving the one love that came back a few months ago, after years... Writing 😊

So, my beautiful weirdos, can we PLEASE take steps towards something new? I think we could use some respite after months, maybe even years of PR Debunking Hell... 🫶

Also, there are certain topics that I don't want to be discussed on here. Because I don't feel comfortable being in the middle of any debate whatsoever (you can ask my dearest friends on here, they know I hate politics and avoid discussing, and eventually debating it, as much as possible). Until my next post, Beloveds 🤗

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Corrupted, Chapter Five: Found - a Malevolent x TMA Fic

Tim is depressed.

John is up to something.

Gertrude is here to make it worse

AO3

———-

A few kabobs later, Tim feels a little better. Stable blood sugar is a hell of a thing.

He still hates not being able to see. It’s awful. It’s terrifying. John is doing a really good job of keeping him safe, Tim tells himself this will be over soon because he has to—no matter how hard that is to believe.

Tim also tells himself not to think too much about Bouchard’s description of John.

That was… not a safe -sounding creature. And maybe Tim is just being some sort of speciesist, but he finds himself wondering yet again why John had been bound in a book. Job is inhuman. John is also manipulative and controlling, and Tim is more than fine with both of those things in certain circumstances, but depending on the guy to stay alive is definitely not one of them. 

What did he do that got him put in there?

It also brings to mind the question of what else is in there. Tim believes Bouchard. Something else is. He wonders if it’s safe in the backpack. “Hey, John?”

The shop we need is about twenty steps ahead and to your right. Yes?

“Is the book safe? Should I, like, wrap it in a belt, or something, so it doesn’t open in the bag?”

It won’t matter if it opens in the bag. It could fall down a cliff and flutter completely agape, revealing its inscriptions to the seagulls, and nothing would happen. It must be opened by a living, fully sapient being.

“Wow. If they could go that far to protect whatever’s in there, you’d think they’d put some kind of lock on it, yeah? A safeword, or something.”

John sounds amused. You mean a fail-safe? Or a password, perhaps?

“Sure, whatever. Still, that’s good to know. Wouldn’t want to release Cthulhu in the middle of London.”

No, we wouldn’t want to do that, says John with absolutely no inflection at all. Store to your right, now.

That wasn’t a spooky response at all. “What do you think he saw in the book?”

Nothing. There is nothing else bound here. He was fucking with us.

Sure.

Tim sighs and tries to get a hold of himself. John’s not Cthulhu, and whatever remains in the book isn’t, either, since Cthulhu was an old-timey story told by a crazy dead racist. (Speciesist, Tim’s brain adds.)  He’s safe, he tells himself. It’s still early morning, even if he can’t see the daylight. It’s not like weird gray-skinned monsters are going to come at him on a busy London street.

The store turns out to be a health-food, raw sugar, vitamins-the-size-of-thumbs kind of place. There, John directs him to buy just… stuff. A block of salt. Six small candles, unscented. Various herbs. A hand-built clay bowl. Matches. Distilled water. Rubbing alcohol. 

Then they leave. A Siri-search brings them to a hardware store, and John directs him to buy a length of rope, a hammer, six cleat hooks, and two copper pipes. 

Tim has played games and read books and seen movies, and cannot for the life of him figure out what all of this is supposed to do.

Very good, Tim, says John, who has obviously figured out Tim likes to be praised. Now we need a place to cast. I do not suggest your apartment, as we need to keep that location completely uncompromised. 

“Cast?”

Yes.

“I’m going to cast a spell?”

We are.

Tim gawks. “How?”

My power can just barely be lent to you—not much, or it would hurt you, or break your mind, and I have no desire to do either—but enough to cast a minor spell.

“Did you just say you can break my mind?”

Of course. 

Since last night, Tim’s been running from cultists, gray-skinned claw-monsters, an eyeball god and its creepy priest. He finally realizes he could be in serious danger from John. “Fucking spooky antler-genie,” he mutters as if it’s a joke, as if the threat hadn’t landed.

It landed.

Now, Tim, soothed John. If I were going to simply break you, I’d have done it already.

“Oh. Good,” said Tim. “Absolutely reassuring. Don’t take a job in any kind of therapy, yeah?”

I’ll keep it in mind. Angle right—you’re going to walk into a mailbox.

Tim sighed and adjusted. “So you’re going to cast magic through me. I’ll be actually magical for five minutes, or something.”

Less time than that. As I said, I don’t want to hurt you, and unless you have an affinity for magic, it would harm you with longer exposure.

“Yeah, I doubt I have an affinity for it.”

Well, we don’t know yet, do we? Have you ever tried to cast before?

Tim snorts. “Have I ever tried to cast the thing I didn’t believe in twelve hours ago? Yeah, no.”

Then we’re going to find out, and I’d rather that not result in your harm. Now, as I said: we need a place where we won’t be disturbed.

Tim thinks for a moment. His heart pings painfully, and he has to wipe his eyes again.

Tim?

“Sorry, just… Danny. Exploring derelict buildings was his last dumb hobby before whatever this one was. Urban exploration. He called it Urbex , and I made fun of him because that sounds like a drain cleaner, or something.” He laughs weakly. “I was merciless. Brothers. You know.”

I do know.

John has family. Wild. 

Tim keeps talking, and isn’t even sure why. “It’s what I thought he was still doing when he showed up ranting about cultists, but… anyway, he knew some places. We need to go back to my flat and get his laptop. For his pictures, and all of that.” His voice cracks.

Mister Smooth is back in the building. Of course, Tim. Whatever we need to do. 

“Look, don’t… don’t do that.”

Do what? Even smoother.

“You’ve got one hell of a set of pipes, and we both know it, but you whip out that voice every time I get upset. And I don’t think you’re doing it to comfort me.”

Why else would I be doing that, Tim?

It’s not a flat tone. John’s not angry.  Which is good, because Tim doesn’t want him angry. He needs John to fucking navigate. “I don’t know. I just don’t want to be manipulated. I know I’m all kinds of fucked right now, okay? Fragile. So maybe I’m being prickly, but…”

I have no reason to wish you any suffering, Tim. If I have chosen to speak to you in a soothing manner, perhaps you should ask yourself what it is I’m trying to achieve.

“To control me?” Tim says dryly.

Perhaps I merely wish to see you soothed, says John like oil on skin.

Tim rolls his eyes. “Right. The D.B. Cooper of the demon world wants me soothed. ”

Is it so hard to imagine I might prefer you happy?

What a fucking thing to say. “Maybe.” Like a thread in a sweater, pulling that sentence has begun to unravel a lot of things. 

When was Tim last happy?

Well. I do. Shall we go back to your apartment? 

It’s been a long time. At least since mum died. And after Danny… 

All of this should be more frightening than it is. It really should. Tim does not feel great; the numbness is worrying, or it should be. It isn’t, though. It isn’t.

He isn’t even feeling the kind of thrill he should that he might be able to do magic. That should be huge! Momentous! Incredible! Exciting! 

He doesn’t feel anything. “How depressed am I?” he murmurs.

What was that?

And Tim flips the humor switch, because he can deflect even better than the antlered monster in his head. “Are you telling me I could actually be a wizard some call Tim?”

John laughs. It’s a real laugh, not a chuckle—a deep and genuine guffaw. It’s also possibly the wickedest sound Tim has ever heard. There’s something terrible in it, cruel, a sound so bottomless he could fall into it forever.

“Shut up, you are not familiar with Monty Python, too,” says Tim, still deflecting.

Oh, Tim… the things I could tell you.

Was there a hint of regret in that tone again? “Okay,” says Tim, slowly. “So tell me.”

In time.

Sure. John was never going to tell him. “Let’s go the hell home. Need the map?”

No. Turn around. The closest stop that will take us back to Woking is four blocks behind us.

John remembered that?

Had he already been looking for a bus stop? Tim knows that if he’d been in the position of having to navigate through someone else’s eyes, he wouldn’t have been planning far enough ahead to catch that.

John is… scary smart, actually. Combining that with the manipulative tendencies, the bossiness, the obviously good memory…

Tim?

Tim knows he’s in danger. “Sorry. Right.” It should matter. It doesn’t.

A few more steps. Stop. It looks to me like a bus in our direction will be along in a few minutes. You’re going to be all right, Tim. 

“You don’t know that.”

How about this, then: you’ve shown yourself worthy of reward, in my eyes. I will see that you get it.

Right. After all the casual humor and the relatability of shared media, John has casually dropped another abjectly terrifying sentence. “Glad to know I’ve fit your standards?” Tim says after a moment. “Though there’s not a lot you can do to make that happen.”

Not yet. But the time is coming soon.

Oh, fuck me, Tim thinks. “Um… how?”

Would you like to know why I was in that book?

“You did promise you’d tell me that.”

Then let’s go back to your apartment and choose a location. We do this conjuring. If you handle the magic well, Tim, I’ll show you why.

Was it his imagination, or was something… bad about the way he said that? “And if I don’t handle it well?”

Then I will just tell you.

And John sounds like that would be disappointing.

Tim exhales slowly. He can’t ignore his instincts any longer. He is in trouble. ”So will this conjuring find some other power to help us? Something that’s not an eyeball.”

Something like that.

It’s logical, isn’t it? It was this or go back to Bouchard, and Tim would rather lick the sidewalk. “All right.”

Bus.

They’re both quiet on the way home. Without meaning to, Tim dozes until they’re about twenty minutes from his stop. 

John lets him rest.

#

Danny’s laptop has what they need. John describes a farm not far from Woking that’s been abandoned for a while, judging by Danny’s photos.

Oddly appropriate, John says as Tim eats the last of the peanut butter and drinks some water. Why, it’s even been a spot for some zombie movies. 

“Rusty farm equipment? An abandoned hangar? Perfect place to do some magic.” And Tim says what he knows he’s supposed to say: “I hope I have an affinity. I mean. That would just be neat, you know?”

Oh, so do I, says John, and there is something hungry about it.

Tim can’t bring himself to care.

#

It really feels, he thinks as he trespasses in broad daylight, like he is soil that’s been tilled. He’s still and quiet and ready for planting—but on his own, he’s functionally dead.

Depressed, he thinks, which is true. He’s slipping back into the bad place he’s been in since Danny’s death—the place he was only briefly pulled from by fear and adrenaline.

He feels neither now.

There seems to be no security on this run-down, abandoned farm. John spots the hangar—a traditional arch-style steel building. Keep going. We’re heading right for it.

It is, Tim thinks, the perfect place for a murder, and he wonders why he’s still going along with this.

Yes, he might do magic. That’s a great lure, isn’t it? Who wouldn’t want that, especially after the events of the last day?

But something doesn’t add up. Tim’s gut says this is a trap, and he’s walking right into it.

It’s not like he’s stuck. He could turn around. Leave. If John refuses to help him anymore, he could just call the fucking police, a medic, something.

Hell, he could even call Bouchard.

He has options, even if they’re not great. Why is he still going along with this?

“I really am depressed,” he verbalizes after a moment.

Oh?

John sounds chipper.

I am definitely walking to my death,  Tim thinks, and still isn’t sure why. Then he decides, fuck it , and shoots his shot. “I’m about to die, aren’t I?”

John is silent for one, long beat. What makes you say that?

Ah-ha. Flat tone. 

Score one for intuition, Tim thinks. “Don’t know that I care as much as I should, is all. Hence the ‘depressed’ comment.”

Tim. I’m not going go to hurt you.  What makes you say that? Two steps left; there’s some piece of rusted metal sticking out of the ground.

John didn’t deny this would kill him, either. 

He navigates, and figures out what's wrong as the question leaves his mouth. “This conjuring is supposed to help, right? So why didn’t we do this first?”

The pause is so slight that if Tim hadn’t been listening for it, he wouldn’t have caught it. We probably should have. I’d hoped you already had a resource we could use without risking you.

“No. You’re too smart for that. Wanna know what I think? I think the second those eye-worshiping freaks saw you, you panicked, and the gloves came off. Whatever this is, it’s a last resort,” says Tim. 

Such a smart young man.Regretful again. Just the type of acolyte I prefer.

“Deflecting. Also, not an acolyte.”

Not yet. 

“Not ever. I’m not the priest type, accidental or otherwise.”

Yet you’re doing something at my request when you say you think it will kill you, says John casually.

Tim doesn’t know how to explain.

For some reason, the image of a life stretching before him—empty, no Danny—working some stupid job, going home to an empty apartment, rinse and repeat for the next sixty years, seems untenable. Absolutely distasteful, obscene.

Tim keeps walking, crunching through winter grass, hands in his pockets, backpack heavy. He sighs. “Are we there yet?”

Almost. So: you think you’ll die, and you’re still going through with it?

“I don’t know. Maybe I don’t care.” That’s the truth, too.

I’m not going to hurt you, Tim.

So whatever this is will be painless. Tim believes him. I got Cthulhu’s favor, lucky me, he thinks, and almost laughs. There were worse ways to go. Being beaten to death in an alley by cultists, for example.

And hey, John also hasn’t actually said it would kill him, either. Maybe it won’t, and all this drama is for nothing.

Maybe John’s not sure what it will do. That’s an odd thought to have.

We’re inside.

“Do I even get to know what spell this does?”

Possibly nothing. As I said—if you have no magical affinity, it’s a nonstarter.

“What happens if I am magical?”

It’s dark. Give me a moment to see… ah. Perfect. Ahead of you, Tim, is a space that probably held farm equipment once, but now, it’s only got junk around the perimeter—a hand truck, a suspiciously stained armchair, an unsafe ladder. Move straight ahead, slowly.

So John wasn’t going to tell him what it did. If Tim were playing this in a game, he’d have some guesses about his body and John’s place in it. Though maybe not; it’s a good human body, but a far cry from what Bouchard described John once having. 

If Tim was right, though, would he still be inside it when all was said and done? He suspects he’ll just be gone. Maybe he’d go to wherever Danny is. That doesn’t seem so bad. “Where do we go when we die?” he says.

We go to the Dark World.

“What’s that? All of us?”

All.

“Good, bad, ugly?”

There is one world that accepts all after death, and that is its name.

Sounds a lot simpler than he’d feared. “It’s a whole world? Can you travel there? Leave?”

Some can. Flat. Why?

“Have you  been there?” Tim says.

No, and I don’t ever intend to go. Tim, this is the spot.

And this is the moment of decision. “What’s this going to do, John? Really.”

I told you. Help. Take the rope out first.

Tim decides to do it.

Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe it won’t kill him. Or maybe he’s leaping off a cliff, chasing Danny, chasing anything to feel something other than numb inside. Either way… yeah. He’s depressed, and going along with it because it’s the direction he was already moving. “Sure.”

Good. As best you can, lay it out in a circle. I know that will be a challenge since you can’t see, but together, we’ll figure it out.

“Sure.”

The bowl goes in the exact center; inside that is distilled water, and then the block of salt. 

The six candles are placed equidistant inside the rope. The hooks, equidistant outside it. 

The herbs are scattered over the whole thing, rubbed to small, irregular pieces between his fingers, and—he thinks—staining his hands.

The hammer is left beside the bowl—apparently, it doesn’t matter exactly where, though Tim gets the weird feeling it is within reach .

The pipes are placed by the bowl, pointing north to south above, and east to west alongside. Then Tim opens the rubbing alcohol, and, per instructions, leaves it open just outside the nearest hook.

“Well, it sounds cool,” he says, trying to picture it all in his mind.

Are you ready, Tim?

John is eager.

“Hold on. I can’t see, and I don’t want to fucking trip.” Tim carries his backpack a little distance away, leaving it by the manky old armchair. Then he returns to the circle.

He sighs. Maybe for the last time. Maybe it’ll all be over. He'd like to rest, if he's honest. Maybe Danny's got a new hobby in the Dark World. Tim wipes his eyes. “I'm ready,” he says, and he means it.

I won’t hurt you. Step inside the rope.

Tim wonders if there’s anyone he should say goodbye to.

No one comes to mind. That’s not great, but it fits this moment. Tim takes a breath and steps.

The gunshot is so sudden, so startling, that he jerks back and falls over sideways, knocking over the bottle of rubbing alcohol, startled into pounding heart and gasps.

What the fuck? Tim, it’s that woman!

“What woman?” he says, scrambling backwards.

“Sorry for interrupting,” says a voice he heard earlier today.

It’s that old lady. The one from the Institute who’d been about to do something before Bouchard intervened.

“What the fuck, she followed us? ” Tim blurts.

“I did indeed,” says the woman. “Calm down, now. This is happening no matter what, I think you know, but it doesn’t have to be painful.”

Tim feels like he’s been hit by a baseball bat, right in the head. “What? What’s happening? What are you talking about?”

Fuck. She’s got a gun trained on us, and her hand is steady. Fuck. We’re too far away to get to her.

“I haven’t seen a ritual quite like this before,” says the woman. “I’m surprised you’re trying it all on your own. They usually need more people.”

“What?” says Tim, who no longer feels like he was hit by a bat, but rather by a different genre of literature entirely. “What the hell are you talking about? What do you want?”

“What do you serve?” she says.

A beat.

“Huh ?” says Tim.

“I can see that thing in your head. I simply don’t recognize it. Let’s have no nonsense, now. What do you serve?”

She… she’s fully armed. The gun’s not all she has. I can see two knives, another gun, and the pockets of her jacket carry slim books that… oh. Power is wafting off them. Tim, be careful.

“Okay,” says Tim, still on the ground, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, I think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding, here. I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

She sighs.

She’s raising the gun!

“Wait, look, I’m not serving anything!” Tim shouts.

“What. Is in. Your head.” 

“I don’t know!” 

She almost sounds pitying. Almost. “You probably know my reputation. One way we do this will be painless and quick. The other will not. I do hate that second way, but if you force my hand, that's on you. So, one last time: what is in your head?”

She sounds like a grandmother.

She sounds like a schoolteacher.

And suddenly—

Without warning—

Out of nowhere—

Tim is furious.

Enraged. 

Frothing.  

So many things have tried to kill or eat him in the last day that it’s abruptly become absurd. The fact that the Cthulhu in his head is offering the merciful option compared to this random woman is enough to make him feel insane.

“You can go fuck yourself!” he says.

Tim!

“Your reputation?” Tim continues. “What the hell? I don’t know your reputation! I don’t have a clue who you are! What, does Bouchard have a pet serial killer, for some reason? Go to hell!”

Tim, I doing know what’s gotten into you, but calm down . We can’t do anything if you—

She is completely unmoved. “Tell me, when I kill you, will it die?” she says.

“How the fuck should I know? He’s been there for, like, twelve hours!”

“You poor thing.” And now, she almost sounds compassionate. Almost. “It’s taken your reason, not only your sight. I wonder if there’s any of you left in there at all? Well, no matter. Move away from the circle, please.”

Still down, Tim scrambles backwards through scraggly grass and litter, puffing angrily, helpless and enraged.

If he had a bomb right now, he’d blow it.

If he had an axe, he’d throw it.

It’s the most he’s felt anything since Danny died, and he’s drowning.

He can hear her inspecting the items he put down. “What was this going to do, exactly?” says the woman. “Not that it matters, but all knowledge is good knowledge, as it were.”

“Fuck you, I don’t the hell know,” he snarls.

What is the matter with you? You’re smarter than this! Stop antagonizing her! 

“And you were doing it anyway?” she says, and there is such contempt in her voice, such utter, disrespectful dismissal, like he’s a child, like he has no reason to feel the way he does or be depressed or want the hurt to end.

How dare she judge him?

How dare anyone? 

She doesn’t know what he’s been through.

She doesn't know what he’s lost.

She’s writing her own narrative all over his life like some kind of terrible graffiti artist.

“Fuck you!” he says again.

Tim…

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” she says, clearly amused with herself.

Tim’s hand touches the armchair, and he stills. He’d accidentally scuttled right up against it. That means his backpack is in reach.

He can hear her messing with the salt, the water, and the bowl, the very center of the setup. That means she’s not looking his way.

As quietly as he can, Tim reaches around and takes out the book.

Tim! Don’t!

John wouldn’t tell him what the spell was for. Tim is mad about that, too.

(This is a bad idea. This won’t make it better.)

He knows that. He can’t care.

His world fell apart, he discovered magic, he lost his sight, he’s possessed, and elderly Lara Croft has decided to stop him from making the one choice he actually wanted to make?

Rage. This is rage. And it is divine. 

Tim!

She must have looked up. “Drop it!” she snaps, as if he’s a brat with a slingshot.

That, in the moment, is why he opens the book.

#

It’s the third time he’s opened it.

The first gave him John. The second called gray-skinned monsters to his parents’ house. The third seems to summon a storm.

Unable to see, he cannot grasp what is happening. Something immediately buffets him—something like wind but not, something like heat but not—expanding so fast that its bulk shoves him across the weed-strewn ground until he slams against the corrugated wall.

She tries to shoot it, whatever it is.

Fuck! John is shouting. Fuck! Go right! There’s a table! Tip it over and we’ll have some shelter, you fucking idiot! What’s wrong with you? Are you out of your fucking mind?

Tim scrambles where told, pushing against what feels like excess gravity, and finds the table—just one of those cheap folding deals, probably nothing that will protect him from anything, but what does he have to lose? He tips it over and throws himself behind.

I thought you were smart , John is snarling. Thought you might be worth a little kindness, though it would cost me , but no! Whatever mercy you earned has dried up!

(That hurts, it does, but only for a moment as that tiny grief is burned up in his rage.)

As if anything John says could upset Tim now. He laughs, cackling like a fire, and stays behind his table on purpose so John can’t see what’s happening.

The woman is shouting—not spells, nothing like that, but certainly not in pain, either. In fact, it sounds like she’s reading poetry? And shooting. And moving. And doing… something that sounds a lot like a flame thrower, at least if the movies are correct.

Elderly Lara Croft, he thinks again.

The whatever-it-is he released from the book is making horrible noises, painful bass sounds that carry no words but so much meaning his head hurts trying to understand. Tim covers his ears, and discovers they are bleeding.

The woman is still alive, and somehow, still shooting. How many bullets does she have? It can’t be legal, to have bullets like that, and the fact that legal amounts of bullets even enters his head in a moment like this makes him laugh like a loon.

Damn it , Tim! he’s able to hear, and all sound suddenly stops.

In the abrupt and terrible silence comes a new voice, disturbingly energetic, unnervingly delighted.

“Oh, oh, oh, there you are, Dagster! Dag-Man! Dag-o-Rama!” The voice drops an octave. “It’s been so very long.” 

And whoever said that—whatever chipper, knife-bright being said that—must be a monster, because John’s fear rises like a flood, like an absolute tsunami, and briefly, Tim can feel nothing else.

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

<< Beginning || AO3 || Next > Latest >>

Chapter 2: May 2009

“Thanks again for picking me up,” Gerard mumbles, slumping down into the passenger seat. He’s exhausted and strung-out and feels like he’s covered in filth.

“Of course,” Martin says softly. He waits for Gerard to buckle his seatbelt before coaxing the car into life and aiming it at the street. It’s on its last legs, honestly, but Gerard knows better than to point this out, or suggest Martin look into getting a new one. Even a secondhand car is out of his reach. When this bucket of rust goes, he’s going to be wholly dependent on public transit. It’s not the worst thing in the world, but it’s a bit limiting.

“How’s your mum?” he asks, not really thinking about the words before they come out of his mouth.

Martin’s mouth tightens briefly. “Same as always. Doc’s got her on a new medication. It’s…it’s not really doing anything, honestly. They did some more tests last week, we’re still waiting on the results of those.” He pauses, then adds, “Somehow, I don’t think they’re going to come back with anything useful.”

“You sure?”

“Just a hunch.”

Something about the way Martin says that makes Gerard’s stomach twist. There’s a significance to it, almost like he’s not just talking about medical ailments. Something is going on, something probably dangerous, and Gerard hates that Martin is stuck in the middle of it. He wants to…he’s not sure what. Do something. Get Martin out of there, whisk him out of the country, hide him somewhere nothing can touch him. Anything.

He knows better. He tried that once, and it didn’t work out for any of them. In a way it’s what led them to this point. And that’s assuming It would let Martin go, which is a pretty damn big assumption. He might still be able to escape, but they’ve known that was a slim chance for years and it’s becoming less and less likely by the day.

“And Uncle Roger?” he asks, more to distract himself from impossible hopes and desires than anything.

“He’s on a new regimen, too. It seems to be helping. At any rate, he’s not getting any worse.”

Gerard hums and lets his gaze drift out the window, watching the streets go by. For all he considers himself a Londoner, he’s spent a relatively low percentage of his actual life here, and he’s not terribly familiar with the streets. And after eight months at Her Majesty’s pleasure, he’s even less familiar with it than he used to be.

Still…

“Hey, this isn’t—isn’t the shop in the other direction?” he says, confused, as Martin makes a turn.

Martin barely spares him a glance. “I’m not taking you back to the shop. Don’t be ridiculous. You’re staying with me. At least until you’ve got your feet back under you.”

Gerard panics slightly. “I don’t—I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose, I—”

“It was in the papers,” Martin says quietly. “That you’d been acquitted because a key piece of evidence went missing—it was the Book, wasn’t it?” He pronounces it, as they always do, with a capital B.

“I think so. Don’t know what happened to it.” Gerard can guess, though, and he sincerely hopes he’s wrong.

“I went by the shop to pick up some clothes for you, but…well, there’s a crowd out front. Reporters mostly, but I think a few curious people. You know the type. Groupies and ghouls.” Martin’s silent for a moment. “And at least one person was…Touched. I didn’t Look too closely, but…you know.”

Gerard’s stomach turns over. “Shit. So I can’t go home.”

“Not yet, anyway.” Martin sighs heavily. “I can try to sneak in after dark, but I didn’t want to risk it in broad daylight and have someone call the cops on me, or worse, follow me. But, um, I’ve got a couple things for you. They’re not…you know, your usual, but…”

“It’s not prison clothes. I’ll take it. Thank you, Martin.” Gerard sighs as well.

Martin glances at him sideways. “Maybe you should change up your style a bit anyway.”

Gerard huffs at him. “Are you saying there’s something wrong with my style?”

“Yeah, I’m saying it’s garbage,” Martin deadpans. Gerard bites his lips to keep from laughing. “Seriously, though, your picture was in all the papers wearing a t-shirt even I couldn’t tell where the fake bloodstains ended and the real ones began and jeans that would be baggy on me with more holes than the plot of that book you tried writing when you were fourteen—”

“Hey!”

“—and that’s pretty much the same thing you’ve worn for as long as I’ve known you,” Martin continues relentlessly. “Maybe if you wear something a bit different, you won’t be recognized.”

“Like what, skinny jeans and a Grateful Dead t-shirt?”

“Try looking respectable for a change. You know, bottle-green turtleneck, brown corduroy jacket with patches on the elbows, tie your hair back in a queue…”

Gerard stiffens. “There’s a picture of my dad in that exact outfit. It’s the only one I’ve ever seen of him. Have I…shown it to you?”

Martin’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, and his face goes ashen, but he only says, “No. No, I don’t think you have.”

They’re silent for the rest of the drive. As Martin pulls up to the curb in front of his building and the car either turns off or dies, though, he says softly, “Even a nine days’ wonder only lasts nine days.”

Gerard manages a smile. “You’re saying they’ll forget about me eventually.”

“Yeah. And I do actually have your passport—they gave it back to me after your trial to hold for you—so you can get out of the country for a while if you want to.” Martin jerks his head in the direction of his front door. “Meanwhile, I bet you want a shower. There’s loads of hot water, and the towels are clean. Landlady actually had someone in to fix the plumbing, too, so the water pressure’s decent. I’ll make dinner while you’re at it. Neens will be home at some point tonight, so we can make it a double celebration.”

“Thanks.” And Gerard is grateful, but he’s also apprehensive, and he hesitates with his hand on the handle. “What should I be…prepared for? I mean…does she know I���m coming?”

“Sh—oh, God, I forgot, you don’t know.” Martin reaches over and squeezes Gerard’s arm gently. “They’re not here, Gerry. Either of them. They went into a home six months ago. It’s just me.”

Gerard sighs in relief. “Thank God. I know she’s your mum, but I really don’t want to deal with her after…that.”

“Honestly? Me, neither.” Martin opens the door. “C’mon. I’ll even make some hot cocoa. And I knew they wouldn’t have let you have any hair dye while you were in, so I bought a box for you. We can do that tonight or tomorrow, whenever you want.”

Gerard comes around the car and hugs Martin tightly. “You’re the best, Mart.”

The way Martin’s face lights up, even as he hugs him back, is as warming and comforting as it is heartbreaking.

[yanderelovlies]

✨Galaxy Anon ✨ here!

Haha you forget viví? Friends also have to tease each other until they scream for mercy hehehe suffer pfft. Let me think about it….No.

But I still feel bad viví! Just talking with you is enough for me! It shows you care that you even respond to me and call me a friend! I probably wouldn’t take it until I really want something, I will feel bad and hate spending others money unless it was for food…then spend that money since I love food lol. Well at least you have lots of guts but I know I would feel embarrassed still since my stuff can either be normal to my god what the hell why do you like that?! Not to mention alot of stuff I’m into I really have no one to talk to about most of it since usually they aren’t into it or I’m afraid they judge me. Mostly the latter. So I’m grateful you even care about me so thanks for that.

It does I mean I get whey we use it but damn does it suck. Oh makes sense so like a discount basically. Yeah I get that I mean it’s already stressful keeping your grades up in class but having the pressure so you have a easier way to college? Nerve wracking and stress inducing.

At least you care since unfortunately a lot of siblings don’t care enough or put down there siblings. I think your doing a lot now since you worrying about that and even some parents don’t give two shits about it or claim it’s too hard to understand now. I’m sure you are, more than you think. Your amazing seeing how sweet you are viví.

Yes unfortunately especially now it can cost your life being a Good Samaritan on the road if someone needs help and they can rob or even worse kill you. And all people you wanted to be a good person.

Yeah I knew I made a good call. I maybe would’ve have either freaked out or get very aggressive then, mostly the latter if I wasn’t emotional more prepared than how I first started out when first working there. And for sure I don’t want to also get aggressive to some other customers for one lady attitude and they had nothing to do with it. I have done it before and I’m not proud of it since they shouldn’t have gotten my anger.

Pppfffttt moving on! This isn't bully vi hours for their questionable tastes.

IM THE SAME WAY AND IT DRIVES MY FAMILY WILD. I'm always getting them things and when they go "Hey want something?" I just tell them nah I'm good. Then I get asked, "how come you don't let me get things for you." Because I feel bad taking other people's hard-earned money!!!

Not to be too straightforward, but I would love to hear about your fandoms. It's one of my favorite subjects, and who knows we might have some in common! (Lowkey I miss the hoodie ugh I keep looking at the picture).

It really is though, and the fact that I have to take harder math classes lowkey scares me. I am having a blast with Philosophy, sociology, and psychology. I was having fun with composition until this professor. My last one was cool and even sent pictures of his dogs with every assignment.

Aww making my blush

I'm just trying my best. I even had a little evening outing with them. Did some gift card shopping then just rode around and sang our hearts out.

God going for a walk or jog could get you unalived these days. Which always scares the shit out of me since it's in my exercise routine. So I never go alone or without pepper spray. I also trust no one. I'm polite I say good morning, but I'm always keeping am ear open.

Hey at least you learned from that and made yourself better! Might I also add I have so much respect for you for being able to handle that on the daily. People are just getting meaner for no reason, and you don't deserve it.

[wallofmoth]

1. Undercity. Probably in Bhaal's temple, let's be real.

2. Chaotic Neutral / Lawful Evil (depending on Act)

3. Silver Dragonborn

4. He'd be found by the injured Mind-flayer, preparing to smash its skull in.

5. Durge all the way! Cannot live without a dose of lovestruck Gort *somewhere* in my playthrough.

6. Platonically close to Astarion, definitely. His & Lae'zels are the only ones my Tav's completed. Reminds him of himself, and so 1, he doesn't want someone with a similar background and motive set to gain the same power he has, and 2, he doesn't like being reminded of his worse times. Somewhere in there is genuine care too, but he'll never admit it.

7. Romantic with Lae'zel & in the past, Gortash. He'd absolutely try to establish a poly setup if he didn't know Lae'zel would just attempt to kill Gort the second she heard the proposition, and honestly vice versa. He cherishes Lae'zel- love at first sight kinda situation; she tried to slit his throat and he made fuckin heart eyes. He'd kill just about anyone or anything for her, no questions asked. In the past he downright worshipped Gortash; in his opinion, the man was second only to Bhaal. They did unholy shit on that altar.

8. Suspicious of Karlach and Gale. They're ticking time bombs, he's a ticking time bomb, and neither approve much of Lae'zel in the beginning, or of Gort at all. He dislikes how similar they can be to him whilst still being good. Also, he hates that Karlach *knew* some about his past and just Did Not tell him.

9. Yeah, Baldurian, kind of. He's going cause they need to fix their memories, at first. Then they go because Lae'zel needs him to. Finally, it's just Durge being Durge doing their Durge bs that leads them to BG in entirety.

10. Nope

11. Greatsword or Hammer, specifically ones that deal psychic or fire damage as bonuses.

12. Sexual orientation? Alignment? What? Well, he's anything-sexual, so there's that. Durge just doesn't give a fuck, from what I've seen.

13. They like it most of the time; sometimes it gets boring or they get lost in their own head when killing though, and he despises that. Like when you eat a food so many times over that your tongue feels almost numb when you taste it, if that makes any sense. He'll need a good meal, or a fuck if it's Gortash, or for Lae'zel to beat the shit out of him, to get back on track. He sees it as a weakness and refuses to acknowledge that a Bhaalspawn would ever be anything but pleased with murder.

14. He doesn't have many hobbies besides average Bhaalspawn activities, but he does enjoy the following: Selling things, shopping, spending; micromanaging everything whilst somehow managing to leave it all in chaos. Having Astarion feed from him very, *very* slowly whilst reading a book or something. Platonic food edging or whatever the fuck you wanna call it; it calms the Urges on those rare days he finds it obnoxious to indulge. In general dressing Astarion up in stupid idiotic gear that the spawn can't help but find useful-- he sees it as cute, kind of.

15. Liked NPCS- Gortash. (PCs count as the main party in my POV, so I won't add Lae'zel- she's fully playable.) Full stop. In terms of amusement, though- The head Tiefling from the Grove, and that girl who Orin forced to eat her own cat, along with Hope from House of Hope. He likes them for the fact that they are all desperate. pathetic, and fragile creatures who put their complete trust into him, and died for it. (In my playthrough, Hope died. He doesn't actually like the fact that Hope died. She was growing rather intensely on him.)

16. Cranium rats & gnolls.

17. Love of adventure fluctuates day to day- some days all they want is to be pampered in their temple, some days they desire only to be knee-deep in muddy cavewater, or viscera, or whatever new strange situation they end up in.

18. He'd be still in the Moon Towers Mindflayer colony, being experimented on. I like to imagine Gortash would have found him eventually. They would have fucking killed Orin after that.

19. I don't have a good idea on that one. ATM I'm going for either old age besides Lae'zel, nuked Netherbrain, or suicide on the altar next to Gortash's days-old dead body, post Netherbrain control, leaving Lae'zel to rule in his stead.

20. That fluctuates as well! If it was just Gort and my Tav, they would control together. All 3 of Gort and Tav and Lae'zel would end up in Tav controlling it & much later Lae'zel would nuke, after Tav/Gort's inevitable early deaths. Tav & Lae'zel alone would nuke it.

21. Spirit Guardians, the Light version, Guiding Bolt, and Cast Invisibility/ Cloak / whatever invisibility spell they can get their hands on. He's a War Domain cleric with a lot of offensive protection tactics; he fucking LOVES watching little enemies swarm him just to die before even getting within melee attack range. Lae'zel picks off the stragglers with her badass crossbow shit. (Then they make out over incinerated creature corpses, probably.)

22. Draconic, Common, a couple Hell dialects. (And a bit of most others, but not enough to be called fluent.)

23. 1, die in a horrible way, or 2, be some sort of fucked up ruler and live until old, old age (probably as the head of Bhaal's cult.) 3rd secret option for Lae'zel rolling straight nat 20's and convincing him to just Settle Down Peacefully. They still kill shit, but it's more of an executioner type gig. Would drive him bloody crazy, but he loves her enough to do it (with a hard shove in the right direction anyhow.)

24. Nope.

25. I Have No Bloody Idea. Maybe I'll update this if I do more research at some point.

26. Tardigrade.

27. Durge life, baby! Headcanon-altered to include Durgetash & Durge-raised-Orin-sort-of theories. Durge+.

28. He co-leads with Lae'zel, but Astarion is in charge of weaseling them outta shit when Intimidation fails.

29. He went full Illithid. I've got two split save-fudges in his main save where one has him as a full fucking mindflayer, but I do enjoy his draconic form a bit more. Very much pro-tadpole, gotta fill the holes in his brain somehow!

30. Favorite thing about him? He was trying to be so good at first, but kept slipping up-- eventually he regained a few memories and ended up free-falling into Bhaal BS. I interpret his and Lae'zel's relationship to be madly codependent and yet completely independent, if that makes sense; they own one another in all ways important. (Gortash owns the unimportant bits of him, though- he used to have him all.) Basically an accidental Durge who stopped trying to resist. Only thing stopping him from going nuts is his fierce green wife 💚

Baldur's Gate 3 Character Development Questions:

1: Where in the Faerûn is your Tav from?

2: What is your character's alignment?

3: Race and subclass?

4: If your Tav was a companion, where would they be found?

5: Dark Urge or no?

6: What companion are you platonically close with?

7: Romantically close with?

8: Who are they suspicious of?

9: Is your Tav from Baldur's Gate? Why are they travelling there?

10: Are they proficient in playing any instruments?

11: Weapon of choice?

12: What is their orientation?

13: What are their thoughts on killing? Is it a necessary evil or do they enjoy it?

14: What hobbies does your Tav have?

15: What NPC's do they like? Which one's do they dislike?

16: Do they have a favorite creature in the Faerûn?

17: Do they enjoy life as an adventurer?

18: What would your Tav be doing if they weren't kidnapped on the Nautiloid?

19: How do you think they'll meet they're end?

20: Would they destroy the elder brain or control it?

21: What is your Tav's favorite spell?

22: What languages is your character fluent in?

23: What do they do after the absolute crisis?

24: Does your character believe in the afterlife?

25: What arcana major best represents your Tav?

26: What animal best represents your Tav?

27: What was their life like before the events of BG3?"

28: Is your character the de facto leader of the party? Or do they consider someone else to be the leader?

29: Does your Tav want to utilize the tadpole powers or not?

30: What's your favorite thing about your Tav?