#was a choice i dallied over for way too long.

[kacetheplace]

If you haven't played When Twilight Strikes....... when will you play When Twilight Strikes.

dialogue in the comic taken from this scene:

[m4sonn]

⋆୨୧˚The Outsiders greaser Gang x Hyperfem!reader˚୨୧⋆

Thanks to my friend @peachyponyboyy and the anon who recommended this for this story!!

ponyboy:

> doesn’t mind that you’re feminine

> genuinely doesn’t care what you wear as long as you like him back and aren’t a shit person

> if you’re a boy he’s terrified that you’re gonna get jumped so he protects you with his life, it’s Oklahoma in the 60’s I don’t imagine they’re very accepting about two gay guys and a guy who wears skirts

> he hates the way makeup feels on his face but he’ll (begrudgingly) let you practice on him every once in a while after a bit of begging and whining

> would genuinely rather kill himself than wear anything feminine

> draws you a lot, if you sew/make your own clothes he makes you outfit designs he thinks would look good on you

> likes to help styling hair and encourages you to try new things (like dye and new cuts and styles etc)

> if you’re a guy he was probably scared to introduce you to his friends and brothers in fear of them judging him and you but they didn’t mind you

> calls you “baby” and “honey”

Sodapop:

> likes more feminine people

> likes helping you choose outfits

> if you ask him for help choosing a shade he’ll ask questions like what are you wearing, how are you doing your hair, what vibe are you going for etc to make sure he chooses the best choice

> helps style your hair for you

> jokes around and lets you do makeup on him and even tries on fem clothes with you sometimes at stores

> constant shower of compliments

> talks about you like he talks about sandy in the movie

> 100/10 waist hugger, hugs you from behind and rests his head on your shoulder or back of your head

> introduced you to his friends right when you two met but introduced you as a friend and then reintroduced you as his gf/bf later when you two started dating

> calls you “cutie”, “sweet boy/girl”, “sweet pea” or “baby boy/girl” (cringe I know)

Darry:

> doesn’t mind it

> type of guy to remind you to close your legs when you’re sitting down

> makes sure your skirt doesn’t ride up too much while out in public/tells you if you don’t notice

> hates the feeling of lip gloss but is willing to get some on his lips to kiss you

> kisses your hand a lot all gentleman like

> you were probably more scared than him to meet his gang and brothers (by more scared I mean that he was totally chill abt it), he just kind of brought you along one time just randomly to a group hang out and they were just chill abt it.

> calls you “sweetie”, “honeybun”, or “peaches” (I hc his favorite fruits as peaches)

Dally:

> usually dates fem people only so you’re right up his alley (sorry mascs, he’s only for the fems‼️‼️)

> mainly only dated girls

> likes to take you shopping with the little spare money he has

> likes to see you try on clothes cause it just makes you look so happy

> adamant that he’s straight (he’s not) and if he dates a guy he says that you’re “close enough” and that it isn’t gay. He doesn’t realize how much this hurts you and only realized how this made you feel after Johnny and pony pulled him off to the side to talk to him about it cause they realized how you always got quiet and awkward after he said that

> likes his partners a bit nerdy but still confident so if you’re a dude who’s confident enough to be feminine in public but is still a little shy and has those nerd glasses he’s ALL OVER YOU‼️‼️

> probably puts his hand on your thigh under your skirt while sitting next to you

> whenever you bend over he’ll slap your ass

> likes to take you out and show you off to his friends, right off the bat when you started dating he went to his friends to show off his new partner

> calls you “pretty boy/girl”, “doll”, or “doll face”

Johnny:

> loves you for who you are and not how you dress

> constantly telling you how cute your outfits are on you

> like pony if you’re a boy he’s terrified of you being jumped for being a feminine gay guy and protects you with his life, gives you a switchblade just in case, even if both of you know you’d never use it.

> waist grabber/hugger and no one can change my mind, when you’re wearing a tighter top that shows off your waist is when he does it most

> goes feral when you wear a shorter skirt

> I don’t imagine his mom to be a very feminine person other than meeting pony boy’s mom so you are like the only feminine person he’s really ever talked to so he knows nothing about how to help with outfits or makeup etc but tries his best to help with whatever

> was trying to grab a makeup pallets for you and he dropped it and broke it and cried while apologizing

> was pretty scared to introduce you to the gang (especially if ur a boy) but he told Dallas first and helped him introduce you to the gang after reassuring both of you they’d love you (they adored you and loved that Johnny finally found someone)

> calls you “sweetie”, “darling”, or “my beautiful amazing pretty amazing most perfectest bestest boy/girlfriend (yes he would call you this)”

Two-Bit:

> usually likes more fem lovers so he doesn’t mind you being fem

> If it’s modern day he yells gyatt at you and slaps your ass when you bend over ☹️☹️

> let’s you do his makeup and sometimes his sister joins in and you two either actually do his makeup or you just smear a bunch of products in his face

> his mom and sister LOVE YOU.

> when he brought you home his sister was all over you, enjoying having another feminine person in the house other than her mom cause two bit is “a nasty stinky and unhygienic boy” and she’s “glad to know that he finally has someone who might be able to get him to straighten up a bit and stop being so gross. And maybe you can even help that drinking problem of his.”

> you cackled after she said this but two bit didn’t take it as well and chased her around the house 💞💞

> he was so excited to introduce you to the gang, right when the two of you started dating he wanted to introduce you to them but he let you choose when, they loved you :3

> calls you “babe”, “baby”, “cutie”, and “sweet cheeks” (ur literally the Minnie to two bit’s Mickey)

Steve:

> doesn’t mind that you’re feminine

> he’s gay, only dates dudes, sorry girls 😋😋😋

> doesn’t know anything about fem clothes n stuff cause he grew up with only his dad but he tries his best :///

> When you guys go to watch bull fights or drag races he totally lets you sit on his lap, he could NOT care less if people are staring.

> likes to take you to drag races and even lets you be in the car with him when he’s in one

> likes to show you off, flexes how he managed to get such a pretty bf

> touchy asf

> was scared to introduce you to his dad but he did eventually, his dad was confused (“so that’s not a girl??”, “wait so what you’re tellin’ me is yur’ one of them queers??”) and physically could not bring himself to believe you were a boy because you’re so fem, but accepts you two

> he yaps to the gang abt you, like never shuts the fuck up and it annoys the hell out of them

> introduced you to them immediately

> calls you “darling”, “my love”, or “babe/baby”

[bartxnhood]

HII!! I was wondering if I could request Dallas Winston with a hippie!reader headcanons? I love ur writing btw <3

thanks for requesting ! i hope you enjoy !!

•at first dally really wanted to hate you.

•you dressed so different than most people in town. you stuck out like an eye sore.

•he definitely thought it was weird at first, but when the gang started to bring you around more, he had not other choice than to be around you.

•you were nice, maybe too nice for your own good. anytime dallas had make a snarky or hateful comment towards you, you just hid the pain behind a smile.

• “what are you some kind of witch or something?” dallas would ask, but you just laugh his questuin off and focus on something else.

•he tried his hardest to get you to hate him, but you had no hate in your body. you were someone who thought everyone deserved love. even if they weren’t the best people.

•eventually, dallas let up on his comments towards you. for a while he ignored you, preventing his self from saying something snarky.

•the rest of the guys actually enjoyed your state of mind.

•ponyboy especially, if you’re more into nature. the two of you would sit and watch the sunrise or sunset. you often shared your interests with pony as he enjoyed hearing about it.

•dallas never understood your fascination with nature until stumbling across you in the lot watching the sunset.

• “whaddya doin?” he asks, approaching you from behind. your head turns to him, smiling softly. “watching the sunset. wanna join?”

•you knew better than to ask but to your surprise he walks over and sits down next to you.

• “what’s that?” he asks, pointing to the bundle of flowers in your lap. “oh! a flower crown!” you raise it from you lap letting him look at it.

•he nods “cool” he mumbles under his breath and looks away.

•dallas is shocked when you place it on his head and stifle a laugh. “what?”

•you shake your head, smiling. “it suits you.”

•dallas feels flustered, he hadn’t felt this way toward someone. at least, in a very long time. he didn’t mind that you put the crown on him, in fact he thought it was cute.

•the sun had already set, it was just getting dark. “dallas, do you hate me?”

•the questions makes his eyebrows furrow. it was so sudden.

• “no..but i wanted to” he says, you look at him. “why?” he sighs, looking ahead.

• “you’re too good for someone like me, i thought the best way to not love you was hate you. but it didn’t work.”

•from that moment on, the two of you became something more than just friends.

•but it took some time before he finally realized how in love with you he was.

•and then, he finally decided to make it official.

•dallas learned to love your way of life.

•he’d carry around crystals you gifted him in his pocket. of course, he wouldn’t tell anybody.

•he wore the jewelry you’d make sometimes. it was so unusual for him to do or even let someone do that for him.

•but, dallas let you because he finally felt wanted for the first time in a while.

•he let you be you because that’s the person he fell in love with.

[sirowsky-stories]

The Flowers Always Know

Chapter 9 - Spaghetti Fixes Everything

Description: Working at HQ wasn't just challenging, it was threatening to completely burn you out after just the first few days. Of course, it didn't help that you were so stressed you forgot to eat most days.

**Beware! Author chooses NOT to display warnings on the individual chapters of this story. Read at your own risk!**

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Word Count: 4657 (1649 words added) Masterlist (this story)

   The weeks passed way too quickly after that.    You couldn’t understand how the clock reached 8pm so damned fast every day, you never seemed to be even halfway done with your tasks, even though you arrived a half-hour early and worked at least three hours late every single day, including weekends.    As if you’d been dropped into a black hole, and time had gotten warped, no matter how many hours of work you put in, it never seemed to add up to anything.

   You’d quickly learned two things on your first day. One, that your predecessor had left so abruptly he hadn’t even cleaned out his little wardrobe. And two, he had not kept his house in anything resembling order.    How the man had been able to get anything done, at all, astounded you. There was no order or structure to be found in his wake, and when you’d complained about it to Mrs. Moreno a couple of days later, she’d completely stumped you by saying:

   “Yes, well, now you understand why I wanted you to take it.”

   You’d sort of frozen in place right in the middle of transferring a file from one stack to another, with the shock of realizing she’d actually paid you a sideways compliment, but then she’d immediately ruined the moment by adding:

   “So, stop dilly-dallying and get that mess sorted out already.”

   You’d felt a lot less guilty about calling her horrid, then.    That was about two weeks ago. Or was it three?    Shit, what day was it now? You genuinely had no idea.

   Marcus had tried to stay in touch with you, popping his head in whenever he passed by your office, and calling or texting if he hadn’t found or seen you in too long.    While he was technically still working in the field, he didn’t go on every mission, electing to oversee and direct things from the control centre instead. So, most days he was just a few floors and corridors away.

   But you just never had the time to actually talk to him. When he stopped by, you were almost always heading out, or on the phone, or in a meeting. And while you always answered his calls and texts, the replies were short and mostly just apologetic.    And since you always worked late, and got up extra early, there wasn’t really any free time to just hang out either.

   In short, thus far, you were not very happy with your job.

   But today had been the worst one yet. You’d been in meetings all day, not even having enough time to squeeze in a tea-break in between, much less lunch.    You’d also managed to piss off two reporters, damned near broken your toe when you’d bumped into a railing, walked straight into a poor assistant on his way to deliver a bunch of documents to someone, sending them flying across the hallway, and just when you’d given up and decided to call it a day, the fucking phone rang.

   You had just gotten out of the chair and put your jacket on. Ten more seconds and you would’ve been close enough to leaving that you wouldn’t have bothered to answer the damned thing. But you did.    And to put the cherry on top of this disaster of a day, the person calling was a designer friend of yours who you’d reached out to for help on a project involving the supers’ children.

   He was calling to let you know that unfortunately, despite already being a week into it, he wouldn’t be able to do it. There’d been a family emergency, and he had to pull out. Which effectively meant you’d have to start over.    And of course, that project was the one thing with a deadline which simply could not be pushed. Andy had been your first choice to help you with this, and you’d been so thrilled when he’d agreed, because you knew he’d understand what you were looking for.

   You’d been tasked with creating something like a gym-hall for the powered kids at the local schools, because they needed physical exercise as much as the next kid, but they could so easily hurt the normal children. But of course, the budget wasn’t great, and Management wanted you to do as much as you could with existing buildings and materials.    And that’s where Andy had sprung to mind, because he was a genius when it came to material and repurposing.

   But this was also why you were now in serious trouble, since no one could do what his mind was capable of, and Management was expecting your proposal within the next week.    The clock was already after 6pm when you got the call, and since you’d gotten used to working until eight or nine, you decided you might as well get started on trying to salvage this right away, rather than go home and still not be able to sleep because you’d be stressing over it.

   You took off your jacket and sat back down with a heavy sigh, then reached into your desk to retrieve the project file.    It was thick and heavy and slammed down on top of your desk with a thud. You opened it to the first page and started to look over what would have to be scrapped, and what could possibly still be utilized, already knowing you weren’t gonna be out of the office until past your bedtime, with such a thick folder to get through.

   So, hunched over your desk, leaning on your elbows with your head resting against one palm, tired, starving and completely engrossed in the papers in front of you, you never heard the light knock on the door, or when it clicked open and then closed again.    You didn’t notice the slight ruffle of clothes, or the presence of another person in your space, you just wanted to get this done so you could go home and crash.

   But you did notice the warmth of his arms as they came around you from behind and pulled your back into his chest and didn’t let you go again. You noticed his breath on your neck before he kissed it, slowly and ever so softly.    You noticed when he pulled you up and out of the chair and turned you around so that he could hug you properly.

   The file and the problems which were stacked a mile high on your shoulders, all disappeared when he brushed his lips against yours and that heat instantly flared somewhere in your chest and abdomen.    You made no attempt to control yourself, at all, letting your exhausted body decide for itself what it wanted right then, resulting in what you could only describe as another attack.

   The heat surged through you until every single inch of you felt red hot. You kissed him with every bit of passion and desire you were capable of, while your hands made their way to his belt and tugged his hips closer.    And he responded in kind, lifting you up on your desk and parting your legs with lightly quivering hands. You were wearing a skirt today and he pushed the fabric back all the way to your groin, before settling himself flush against you, letting you feel his arousal.  

   And damn, did he feel good.

   He broke the kiss to allow you both to breathe, and nuzzled into your neck, but when he felt you flex your hips against him, he growled and lightly bit your shoulder as his hands started squeezing and massaging their way along the outsides of your thighs.

   “Hermosa… if we keep this up for much longer, I don’t know if I can uphold my promise to take things slow,” he cautioned, with an unexpectedly feral vibration to his voice.

   “Mmh… You started this,” you retorted, receiving another growl as you ran your tongue along his jawline, tracing back towards his mouth to kiss him again.

   “Sweetheart…” he tried again, after very reluctantly pulling away from your lips, “Either ask me to stop now, or this office will be christened in bodily fluids in a moment.”

   For a few seconds, you were confused, because surely, you’d somehow been transported to a bedroom by now. That was where your head was at…    But no. A quick glance around revealed the mental image to be fake, and the dull cappuccino-coloured walls and sound absorbent ceiling to be the reality you were still mercilessly trapped in.    And that killed the mood like sand poured over a campfire.

   “Okay. Stop,” you grumbled, disappointed to have to leave the fantasy.

   He instantly pulled back and loosened his grip on you, but kept his hands on your thighs, and your hips close together, possibly to hide his very obvious erection from anyone happening to walk in. Like Anita…    For a minute, you just looked at each other’s blown pupils while trying to calm your breathing down, then he smiled.

   “Hi. How was your day?” he politely inquired, trying to distract himself most likely, but he couldn’t have chosen a worse question.

   “Ugh… If you ever need to quell my desires, trust me, that’s all you need to say.”

   And you weren’t kidding. The frustration, exhaustion, stress and general feeling of inadequacy slammed down on you like a concrete slab, and suddenly you felt impossibly heavy.    He noticed the shift in your energy and took his hands off your thighs, snaking them around your waist instead. He stared intently at you for a beat, and you could almost see his mind working to try and figure out which level of exhaustion would lead you to say that.

   “Oh, preciosa. You’re trying too hard. Ask for help, delegate, don’t try to do it all by yourself.”

   “I do delegate, Marcus. Fuck, some days all I do is delegate!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air with hopelessness. “But that asshole, Turner, left behind a bigger mess than anyone even realized, so no matter how much I get done, there’s always another fifty problems left.    And now Andy bailed on me, which means I have to start all over again on the schools, which of course has the shortest deadline of everything I’m working on, and which was the one thing I thought was handled.    I really don’t know what more I can do?”

   You sagged against him, resting your forehead on his chest, wanting so badly to cry but you were somehow too spent even for that.

   “I can’t do this. I’m so tired,” you whimpered, and he started softly running his hands over your back again.

   “Why do you think I have sofas in my office? Naps are your friend, my dear,” he hummed, but you scoffed at that.

   “I haven’t even had time to eat today, when exactly am I supposed to-…”

   “What do you mean, you haven’t eaten?” he cut you off with a dead serious look and his voice was suddenly sharp against the quiet of the room. “Since when?”

   Taken aback by his sudden shift in temperament, it took you moment to remember you were supposed to reply, and then you had to try and recall when exactly you’d last eaten something.

   “Uh… Yesterday, around 7pm, I think. I ordered something. No wait, that was the day before…” you fumbled, genuinely unable to remember, and the Heroic was apparently most displeased with this.

   “Ne creo en mis oidos…” he said, in a tone you interpreted to be incredulous.

   You had no idea what the phrase meant, but he sounded almost angry as he untangled himself from your legs and reached for your jacket.    Sitting there on your desk, you couldn’t help but shrink a little at the thought that he was probably angry with you, even if you didn’t understand why. And you were so exhausted that even such a small thing was enough to make you want to run away, when you would have normally just challenged him.

   “Come on, hop off the desk, you’re coming with me,” he declared then, holding the jacket out for you so you could just slip your arms into it once you were off the table.

   “I can’t just leave all th-…”

   “Sweetheart, I admire your loyalty to your work,” he brusquely cut you off, “but get your ass off that desk right now.”

   Not even bothering to ask why or where you were going, you simply did what you were told, and he slipped the jacket on you and led you out of the building, having to help you stay upright by keeping an arm around your waist the whole way to his car.    You dozed in and out of sleep as the vehicle hummed its way along the roads, having no idea where he was taking you. But at some point, you must have fallen asleep for real, because you woke up to the passenger side door opening, and him reaching over to unbuckle you.

   “Hey, we’re here. Come on,” he beckoned, and when you looked out in front of the car, you saw a house which wasn’t yours, but didn’t think any more of it as you forced yourself to get out of the car and let Marcus drag you to the front door.

   “Hey, dad. You’re late,” a voice called out as soon as you stepped inside.

   “Hey, sweetie. I know, I’m sorry, but I had to help a friend,” he answered just as the person the voice belonged to came skipping into the front hall.

   Oh… His house, of course. Where else would he go at the end of the day?    His daughter. Possibly the most adorable human being you’d ever seen. If only you’d had the strength to greet her as politely and warmly as she did you.

   “Welcome to Casa Moreno. You’re the first woman my dad has ever brought here, I’m very impressed,” she smiled and winked at you, and you so wished you could’ve played along.

   “Missy,” her father cautioned, but half-heartedly at best, and his daughter knew it.

   “What?” she countered, sounding innocent but defiantly crossing her arms, daring him to try and deter her from enjoying what was apparently a rare moment for these two.

   “She’s exhausted, and I’m pretty sure she hasn’t eaten in anything between twenty-four to forty-eight hours, so just be nice, please.”

   “I am being nice; it was a compliment,” Missy tried to deflect, feigning absolute innocence, but it got her nowhere.

   “Don’t even try that with me, young padawan. Go set the table,” he ordered, before following her into the kitchen where he raided the fridge for leftover spaghetti and meatballs.

   You couldn’t help but smile at them as they continued bantering while they worked. But you got so lost in their lovable conversation that you didn’t even remember to ask if you were invited to sit down, and after a minute, the room started getting darker. Which was odd because the sun had already set, hadn’t it?    Still, it kept getting darker, until you realized it was all in your head. But by then you were already falling.

   You woke up to an extremely worried Marcus fidgeting with wet towels and… Was that a blood-pressure machine?    Then, out of nowhere, you suddenly felt completely panicked. You practically bounced up to sitting on what was apparently their living-room sofa, and immediately scrambled yourself into a tiny ball in the furthest corner of it.    Your entire body was shaking with fear, but you had no idea why.

   “Dad… What’s wrong with her?” Missy whispered from the other end of the sofa, and she sounded so worried.

   “It’s okay, sweetie, she’s just scared,” he tried to reassure her, but she was a smart girl, and this had apparently truly rattled her.

   “Of what? She was fine a minute ago.”

   “I’ll explain later,” he said, meeting her eyes so she’d know he meant it, but also using the moment to move back and give you more room before he tried to reach past your fears. “It’s okay. I promise you’re safe. You’re not trapped, you can move, you can talk, you’re not lost in the darkness.    You’re right here… with me.”

   His honey-soft voice soothed you, making you wonder how he could know exactly what to say to help you?    How did he know it was the darkness that had scared you? You hadn’t even realized it yourself until he’d said it.    At those last two words, his current came flowing through you, and it was like a balm, moving through your nerves, coaxing them to relax.

   “Hermosa,” he finally whispered, not with expectation or pressure, but as though the word was an invitation for you to have a safe haven within him.

   Willing your body to move again, you crawled towards him, and he helped you by meeting you halfway and then hugging you so tightly.

   “It’s okay, hermosa. You’re safe, I promise,” he mumbled into your cheek, and you tried to stop yourself from shaking but it didn’t work.

   “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” you cried, still too tired for the massive cry that was still clawing around inside your chest, looking for a way out.

   “You just got lost. We all do sometimes.”

   “What’s wrong with me?” you asked, your voice breaking with too many emotions to name.

   But Marcus pulled back to look at you then, and there was something very reassuring about how much he seemed to believe in what he said next.

   “How many times do I have to tell you, sweetheart? Surviving what you did was impossible. Did you really think something like that wouldn’t stay with you?    There’s nothing wrong with you. Being afraid of things that have seriously hurt you isn’t wrong, it’s wise. You were trapped in darkness for a long time, feeling helpless and weak. It’s only natural for you to be scared when faced with those same sensations again.”

   There was nothing wrong with his logic, you just couldn’t understand where the depth of his insight was coming from.

   “But… how did you know that that’s what I was feeling?”

   “I was with you all the way, remember? I saw every stage of your recovery. Every hurdle, every obstacle, and every victory, big and small. I know you,” he said, shifting one hand up to your face to catch the tears as they finally began to fall.

   If you’d had a crush on him before, you were now certain that you absolutely loved this man. And you really wanted to tell him about it, but perhaps not in front of his daughter, still standing by the end of the sofa, when he clearly hadn’t told her about you yet.    Not that there was much to tell, it wasn’t like you’d even been on a single date yet, you’d just… made out.    You sighed and closed your eyes, leaning your cheek into the comforting warmth of his palm. This really had been a terrible fucking day.

   “Hey, you still have to eat something, or you’re gonna collapse again,” he gently reminded you, while beginning to rise.

   You let him help you to your feet and over to the kitchen where he sat you down at the table before getting back to re-heating the leftovers.    Having fully expected Missy to keep a safe distance after watching you have a breakdown, you were quite surprised when she brazenly came to sit next to you instead, plopping down in her chair as though this had been the most normal, inconsequential evening ever.

   “So, you’re the one,” she pondered, but with that cleverness children had to their tone when they were equal parts curious and sure about what they already knew.

   “Huh?” was all you responded, confused by the notion that she would know anything about you.

   “The one the mad scientist… hurt,” she elaborated, and it sounded like that little pause was her catching herself before saying something else.

   It made you wonder how much she might understand about what had been done to you, and whether what she’d been about to say might’ve been something like “tortured” or “killed”, either of which would’ve been technically accurate, but perhaps harsher to hear.    The mere fact she’d stopped herself said a lot about her maturity and sensitivity towards others, and it softened something inside your chest as you listened to her continue to explain.

   “Dad wouldn’t tell me too much about it, but I read some articles and I saw a few of the news reels,” she confessed, quietly, in the hopes her father wouldn’t overhear and scold her for circumventing his efforts to protect her from the horror of it. “And he did tell me how you were so sick no one knew if you’d ever wake up. And then when you did, he said he needed to help you because he seemed to be the only one who could.    He wasn’t home much for those few months.”

   She finished on a thoughtful note, but it made you terribly sad and regretful.    You’d known that Marcus had needed Anita’s help to look after her while he’d helped you, but you’d had no clue of how extensively he’d been absent. Now that you thought about it, though, you could remember countless evenings of his diligent efforts, never hesitating to keep working well past his regular hours if he felt it was needed.    All for you. Which made it feel like your fault.

   “Oh… Missy, I’m sorry.”

   “No, no, that’s not what I meant!” she hurried to correct you, and you felt like it was important to her that you understood this. “It’s not your fault, of course it isn’t.    What I’m trying to say is, I’m really glad all his efforts helped you in the end. Cause dad… Well, he was so sad all the time you were in the coma, until he started being able to help you, and then it was like… he came alive too.    It means a lot to him, you know. That you made it.”

   Her father had his back to the two of you, while he worked on the leftovers, so you couldn’t see his face. But you were close enough that he should’ve heard most of this conversation, and something about the stillness of his movements told you he had, and that it was probably affecting him deeply.

   “I couldn’t have done it without him,” you replied, a little louder to be sure he heard it, before turning your full attention back to his daughter. “And I’m sorry you had to see me freak out like that before. I’m not normally this… fragile.”

   “It’s okay. We’re all allowed to have bad days, right?” she chirped, and you chuckled, but entirely without humour.

   “Yep. I just wish I could have a good one someday soon. Or I think I might really break.”

   You’d turned sombre and serious again, and if anything, you’d have expected her to not know what to say to that.    But contrarily, her eyes brightened, and a sly smile filled her face.

   “I’m sure my dad can help you with that too,” she grinned, actually cocking an eyebrow at you as she got up from the table.

   She then skipped over to a flabbergasted Marcus, the poor man too flustered to know how to react, hugged him goodnight and then disappeared down the hall, having already had her dinner at a reasonable hour.    You watched her disappear down the body of the house, realizing with both joy and dread, that you already loved his kid as well.

   “Um, I’m really sorry about-… She’s nev-… I’ve never seen her behave like this before,” he stammered once she’d left, clearly seriously rattled by Missy’s not so subtle attempt at matchmaking.

   “Don’t worry about it. I think she’s amazing,” you reassured him, and he threw a nervous glance over his shoulder, visibly relaxing when he saw the earnest smile in your eyes.

   You wondered if some part of him had been anxious about the two of you meeting, or thought you might not like her, for some inexplicable reason. Which then made you think it was possible he hadn’t just not brought any women home before, but possibly not even gone on a date since the loss of his wife.    Because you couldn’t think of any other reason he’d be so nervous about all this.

   Once he’d recovered, he brought the plates over and all but ordered you to dig in, while he did the same.    You didn’t really feel all that hungry anymore, mostly you just wanted to sleep. But with each delicious bite it was like your body began to remember it actually needed this stuff, and you ended up helping yourself to another large serving.    Which Marcus heartily approved of.

   “Now, that’s the appetite I’m used to seeing with you,” he grinned. “Feel better?”

   “Loads,” you admitted, noticing how a full stomach seemed to have made so many of your troubles seem a lot smaller.

   You leaned back in your chair once the last bite was swallowed, holding your glass of water and taking slow sips, when he reached out and took your other hand, resting on the edge of the table.

   “Hey. You can’t skip meals. I don’t care how hard you’re working, without fuel you will crash, that’s just a fact,” he admonished, and you stared at your empty plate, feeling like a kid being scolded for skipping class.

   He squeezed your hand, looking for a response and when he didn’t get one, he pushed his chair back and turned his whole body towards you.

   “Look at me, hermosa,” he demanded, and you did.

   “You. Can. Do. This,” he articulated, believing every word himself. “Find a way to do it on your terms. Find a way to make the tasks fall in line behind you, don’t let them try and climb onto your back and stack themselves on top of you. Force Management to hire you your own assistant if that’s what it takes.    You’re stronger than this, I know you are. Stop trying to shape yourself into a manager and start making the manager shape itself from you.    My hermosa doesn’t let a fucking job dictate her life.”

   Yes, everything he said was good and made you want to believe it. But in the end, all you really registered was one thing.

   My hermosa.

   You put your glass down and leaned over to kiss him, and for the first time, you didn’t lose control. You just kissed him. Warmly, lovingly, with your hands on his cheeks. And he just kissed you back. With no demands, no expectations.    But as much as you loved the intimacy and the comfort of being so welcomed by him, your body had been fed a huge meal and all remaining strength was now being rerouted to handle all that nutrition.

   He noticed how limp you were getting even before you did, and quickly helped you to your feet before you fell asleep at the table. Then he practically carried you to a bathroom, where you found some extra reserve of strength to brush your teeth and use the toilet, before he brought you to a bedroom. There, you flopped down on a soft and cool bed while he took off your shoes and helped you get under the covers.

   “I’d ask if you want me to help you undress, but I might get ideas,” he whispered while he pulled a few errant strands of hair back from your face.

   You could hear the smile in his voice, and you wanted to say something clever in return, but you were only seconds from unconsciousness by then, so all you could manage was a less than sexy grunt.    The last thing you were aware of before you succumbed to the blissfulness of sleep, was his lips brushing against your temple, and a whisper to sleep tight.

[purecommemasolitude]

outsiders week 2024 progress report to hold myself accountable

Sunday, Nov 3 - "gang" or "Ponyboy"

already chosen the fic for this one, it's the one i've been working on for the longest (literally since at least june last year) and i am soo close to being done. there's just one exchange i need to refine because i'm not satisfied with it. but it's book-verse about ponyboy after the track tryouts the same year as everything goes down* not getting the placement he wants and finding a moment of understanding with darry about it because darry's the only one who #gets it. this fic was spun out of that one line in the book where ponyboy says soda never got the importance him or darry placed on athletics

*when i was combing the book to figure out the timeline of track/what grade he was in there was a) never a concrete answer b) a lot of things that could be interpreted in conflicting ways, so i just went with he's a sophomore who was on the track team last year and track tryouts happen in like may or whatever

Monday, Nov 4 - "gold" or "Cherry"

there is a fic already started that's hopefully going to be the one for this day, but also it's probably gonna be long and it's an exploration of musical!cherry's turmoil after bob dies seeing the witch hunt against the greasers (basically it's inspired by the fact that she takes her promise ring off after JFT and not after the break up) and i want to try and do my vision™ justice instead of rushing it so this may not be done in time we'll see. if it's not done i may extract the bit where she finds out about two-bit's jumping from marcia and just post that because it's the part closest to being completed

Tuesday, Nov 5 - "rumble" or "Sodapop"

so i have two started but incomplete fics that could go for this day. one is following musical!soda & darry at home in tulsa while ponyboy is out in windrixville. it's probably my first choice, but this one is also an i don't want it to rush and lose some of its potential in the writing process so we'll see. the other one is a stevepop fic that's largely centered around sodapop's queerness (it's basically a 5 + 1 of members of the gang realizing/revealing that they know that he's not straight. evie is in it with her and steve as each other's beards and she's the catalyst for soda's own realization that he likes men)

Wednesday, Nov 6 - "hair grease" or "Darry"

fic chosen and started for this one too! (this is what i was up until like 2:00 yesterday working on 🤪) it's musicalverse again and it's gonna follow a possible explanation for why darry's called darrel now, aka him slowly transitioning to going by darrel after the death of their parents and the reasoning and rationale for that change

Thursday, Nov 7 - "rodeo" or "Bob"

...okay for this one i truly have no idea. i want to keep it vaguely on-theme for the prompts even if i end up not following them, but the two other soc-related fics i have simmering are ones that i want to also not rush and really make sure they're the best i can get them (asian!paul exploration and marbit's journey post-book) so probably not those two tbh. two ideas that i have are snapshots of various characters reacting to his death, though i haven't picked a universe for that yet, or something following the non-character prompts for once and maybe some of the characters as kids at a rodeo? i'll be honest the only rodeo experiences i've had that i can really remember are riding the docile horses on like a real-horse carousel so basically i'd just be planting outsiders characters into that experience

it is also possible that i'll end up with nothing (midterms go crazy), in which case i'll post my backup that is semi-completed, a whooole bunch of outsiders characters recreated in this picrew

Friday, Nov 8 - "tuff" or "Dally"

this one is not only decided upon but finished if y'all can believe it. i might make some revision edits before i actually post it but this one is a product of me going insane over the course of three days and writing a character exploration of dally on the train tracks delving into his relationship throughout his life with suicidal ideation

Saturday, Nov 9 - "vacant lot" or "Johnny"

unfortunately once again no idea lads. actually i lied there is something but it doesn't follow any of the prompts very much so we'll see. following the prompts i have no idea, most i've got is maybe a short thing about johnny some quiet night in the vacant lot (both prompts in one fell swoop). maybe he's looking at the stars idk. if it's the other one, which could also function as a backup for any of the days, it's a sickfic about two-bit that's actually just an excuse to write two-bit appreciating his mom. the google doc for that one is called sick TB mother appreciation to illustrate how central that is to the fic

if you've read all the way to the end hello 👋 and feel free to send any thoughts or questions my way! i need to lock in and start hustling on these soon and interaction is always a great way to improve willpower

[higgs-the-god]

Ah fuck it. Uploading this here. Part of puppies survive au that I Mightttt not actually ever write. Barney’s attempt

Charlie’s gone and buried, Jack is gone, and Barney can only hope he had a swift end. There was too much blood at the scene, too much for an adult, even.

He can’t take it anymore.

Gordon is no help, the fucking bastard. Would it ass him so much to care a little? To think of anyone else but himself?

He loads his gun by paw.

It’s weird, Barney thinks. He’s almost eerily calm in the moment. He’d been so fretful lately, always worrying, always sad. But now his mind is empty and his paws aren’t even shaking. Barney breathes steady and deep. He’s going to do it.

He doesn’t have anything left in this world. God knows Gordon seemingly can’t care enough, and his pups are gone.

Who knows, maybe he’ll see them again.

Enough dilly-dallying, the longer he waits, the higher the chance someone finds him before he can shoot.

He lifts the gun up to his head.

And pulls the trigger.

–

Gordon walks swiftly, with intent.

He thinks it’s about time to talk to Barney. Every conversation with him has been… tough, to say the least, but he still sees hope for them both. Still sees a reason to want to call him his friend.

He just… thinks he’s made incredibly stupid decisions lately.

His thoughts are interrupted when a loud BANG rings out in the air.

It came from Barney’s kids’ room.

Gordon books it the remaining distance, running urgently and barging into the room.

Barney’s a lump on the floor, mostly face down. Blood splattered around him, on him. Gordon rushes over, immediately turning him to his side. He’s a limp doll in his grip.

The side of his face is charred, hair burnt at the tips and bleeding where the skin was burnt away, his face twisted in pain. The gun he used had fallen to the ground, smoking softly and Gordon can smell the gunpowder in the air, on Barney. His paw isn’t any better, just as charred and bleeding. His blood is tacky, deep red.

Barney blinks his eyes open.

Barney mutters something, slurred and incoherent. Gordon doesn’t know what to do.

He lifts himself up to run for help, stops. Can he leave Barney here? He can’t yell for help but what if Barney dies while he’s gone?

Barney reaches for him, slathering blood over the front of his shirt, the fur of his neck. Barney, what did you do?

He decides to run off.

–

Alyx is the first one he runs into. She’s outside playing with D0g, who gets her attention when Gordon skids to a halt. He knows he’s signing too fast for her to read but he doesn’t know what time they have. She gets the attention of a doctor on the way back, and she’s gotta be so confused, never having seen Gordon with so much urgency before.

Barney’s much the same when they finally arrive. He’s laid on the floor in an unnatural position. He almost looks like he’s sleeping peacefully, eyes closed and body relaxed. Gordon can only stand in place as the other two go to help him. He can’t move.

–

“He’s stable.” The doctor says some time later. “Physically, anyway.”

Gordon nods.

“He needs an eye to be kept on him. We… I…” She finishes packing up her things, sits there. “I never expected him to…”

Gordon nods. Shakes his head.

She looks at him, a softness in her eyes. “He’s lucky the gun jammed. His paw will be fine, but it’ll take time and care to heal.”

Gordon sits there.

Eventually, she leaves.

Barney had been awake the entire time.

He’d come to lucidity at some point, while being taken care of. Pushed Alyx and the doctor away, shouted and complained. Gordon had to hold him down while they took vitals. It only got him a litany of choice words thrown his way.

Gordon doesn’t ask why he does it.

They sit there for a long moment. Gordon staring at Barney, Barney looking off to the side, resolutely not at him. Birds chirp outside, leaves rustle. Time passes.

“I wanted to see them again.”

Gordon blinks, doesn’t move otherwise. He’s entranced in the small, micro expressions Barney has. Barney’s eye, now shut from the bandage covering his cheek and jaw, closes, screws up.

“God knows the other one I thought I could trust wasn’t there for me.”

Gordon looks at him.

Lifts his paws to sign, “excuse me?” even if Barney isn’t even looking at him.

“You heard me.” His voice is level but it has this undercurrent of.. Something. Something seething. “Fucks sake, they probably wouldn’t even be dead if you fucking cared about them at all!” He finally looks at him. It’s hard to take his anger into account when he looks so miserable. Pathetic. Half his face bandaged up, hair messy and partially charred. He can’t even bare his teeth right, surely the muscles necessary for half of it are burnt, hurting.

Gordon’s paws don’t tremble when he says, “Your choices are your own actions.”

Barney’s eye widens. He suddenly begins to stand.

Gordon uses his voice, “What are you–”

“Going to find me another fucking gun.”

Gordon topples him in seconds, bodily running into him to knock him back onto the mattress on the floor. Barney thrashes indignantly, kicking at him. “Get– get off!!”

No. He won’t let him so blatantly waste his life like this, not after everything. Not after everything.

He keeps him pinned down expertly, using his lack of brain fog and injuries to keep atop him, biting him by the scruff of his neck when he gets too far. Barney cries out behind clenched teeth, scrabbling when he gets his paws under him. Gordon flips him over. And then straddles him.

That gets Barney’s attention. He’s huffing, panting as he lays there, glaring up at him. His lip twists up in a growl with every exhale.

“Get. Off.”

Gordon lifts his paw up from Barney’s chest, “No.”

Barney doesn’t try to move. The bandage on his face had fallen off, showing burnt away fur and charred skin. It’s beginning to scab over, still bleeding slightly. Frankly, it’ll probably heal over just fine. Gordon had seen worse burn injuries heal like nothing.

Barney’s face suddenly twists up.

“Why… Why! You’re never there for me, never been there for- for them! I tried, you know, to make their lives good in this fucked world, and you won’t even talk to them!”

“You,” he puts emphasis on the sign, “raped me.”

Barney rolls his eyes. “Is that what this is about? You don’t even fucking care!”

Gordon sighs, slowly out through his nose. “It’s not that it’s me, it’s that it could be someone else.”

Gordon lets Barney buck him off this time, trusting he won’t run off for a gun again. “It is that it’s you, okay? I don’t– I don’t fucking like puppies. It’s because it was you, okay? I don’t know what came over me, but you–” He makes this frustrated noise, clawing at the ratty mattress. “The reason I kept going in those twenty fucking years, was because you gave me hope. And now I have nothing.”

He’s back to not looking at Gordon again. Gordon sits beside him, watching him.

He really does care about him still, after everything.

Gordon finds himself wanting to ask why. He’s never gotten attraction, didn’t see the point in ever personally being in a relationship. Yet, as he spent time with Barney back in Black Mesa, he never complained about being around him. Actively sought it out. Found it interesting how Barney would act around him compared to others.

Why hadn’t it waned while he was in stasis? For all Barney knew he could’ve been dead. And to think he cared so deeply for their children, even after how they were conceived… Gordon doesn’t get it.

“I want to be with you.” Gordon finally says.

Barney scoffs, rolls his eyes.

Gordon continues when Barney, sensing more, begrudgingly looks back. “I want to be with you, but your infatuation makes it hard for me to trust you.”

Barney’s lip twists, “You saying I love too much?” There’s less anger in his voice, but it’s still there. “You’re all I had, for the longest time, okay? I didn’t think it’d ever… come to fruition. Didn’t expect it to. Back then… I was just some dirty fag no one wanted to be around and you… you and Kleiner and Eli didn’t care, no matter the rumors.” He touches the scar on his other cheek. “I could keep it hidden… I could be the rock for everyone to stand on. But then you came back and- and we got close again. And closer… and I wanted more, like never before.”

His jaw shivers, his eyes shine.

“I can’t take anything back, but I don’t have anything anymore.”

Gordon sits for a long moment, mind churning.

Without another word, he stands up, shuffles close to him. And lays down next to him.

He lays his head down over him while Barney sobs.

[derkastellan]

Badly written modules (that showed promise): "Amber Rage" for Dragon AGE

I've been hosting a game in Dragon AGE for a while, and since I'm running the system and the world of Thedas for the first time, I started to rely on published modules. And I'm beginning to regret that...

The module fashions itself as a dark fantasy story, promising difficult choices and hard realities. I don't think it delivers on that, relying overly on dice rolls and contrived situations instead.

The basic premise

The plot is rather linear, though some factors might mix it up. The players visit a county fair that comes under attacked by people infected with something called "Amber Rage." People that have been infected with it become angry, aggressive, and seek to spread it, causing mayhem and death along the way. The players are enlisted into entering the Korcari Wilds to find a rare ingredient that might help curing all the infected, which might include some of the party itself.

In the wilds they have various encounters adding color and telling more of the story of the Amber Rage spreading. They come to the place where some beings called Fire Sprites dwell, likely dooming their kind in exchange for obtaining the cure. They race back on a time limit only to run into a crazed lord who tries to have everyone they are trying to save killed.

That should work, right?

The wrong kind of leeway

First of all - does the cure work? The authors leave it you, GM. So if you want to tell a story where everybody is screwed no matter what they do or accomplish, be their guest. I see the Warhammer school of fantasy writing is alive and well...

The problem is: The adventure features multiple encounters with the infected, and especially in the beginning it's highly likely that one or several within the party's ranks are infected as well. This would mean they all die as there is no other known cure. While spreading the contagion is not automatic, no matter how you turn it, it's likely to only piss people playing the adventure off.

Player "choices"

While the battle at the fair rages on, players are given choices like "Help the dude or don't help the dude" - are these seriously choices? The one scene at the fairgound that is made out to be a choice - save one child or the other - is deeply flawed. The choice only works if the party was separated after acting as a group. And even if the player(s) take a choice of one child over the other here, the authors do an unusual act of mercy and drop an NPC into the scene to save the day.

If we assume the PCs take up the mantle and head out to procure the ingredient, we soon learn what choice means in this adventure...

Player are shoe-horned into a special cross-country route which supposedly only takes a few hours to get them to a village named Wichford. There they learn a second wave of Ragers will be attacking Sothmere. Trying to catch up with them will probably cost them most of a day due to the strange physics of just following the actual road - where the same journey takes a day on horse. What a road that is!

So the GM and PCs are actually told that there's another attack that threatens the place they're trying to help which they can do nothing about as long as they want to have a chance at getting to the ingredient in time. They are posed with an option they cannot take.

By the way, there are no rules in this adventure that help you navigate time-keeping, travel distances, etc. Nor do the horses that the players are given have any impact on the adventure except for bogging the players down at various points. There are no map-related choices to be taken, for example. Time-keeping is extremely arbitrary and it's left to the GM to decide whether the PCs have screwed around too long and the mission will fail.

This also means the GM is given no real guidance to adjudicate how much dilly-dallying on the party's behalf will endanger the mission. Since none of the travel distances between scenes have been mapped out, and scene starts are often allocated to fixed times, playing the adventure as given - including the readout text - would make it difficult to adjust it.

The non-choice

When finally making their way to the location where the ingredient can be found, the following takes place:

The players encounter a deadly guardian that fights them to the death.

The players are informed that the ingredient is the Fire Sprites' food and they are the last of their kind.

The only way to produce the food is the guardian serpent.

To grow another guardian serpent, the Fire Sprites would need their current amount of leftover food to survive.

The weak-sauce copout the GM is presented with by the authors is that the players always had the choice to use non-lethal means in their fight against the serpent. This is so dodgy, I can't even begin to emphasize it.

You see, the authors must be full well aware that usually nobody on the table even bothers to look up the non-lethal damage rules unless their goal is to catch somebody alive. In fact, most players will probably not know all the rules to begin with. To say therefore it is the players' fault for not staying their hand in a dangerous combat when they have no reason is bullshit of the highest caliber.

There are no hints the adventure gives to the nature of the cycle the players are interrupting, no rumors, hints or clues. There's nothing obvious that connects tiny flying bug-eyed people to a giant serpent. They cannot discover clues to the connection between Fire Sprites, their food source, and the serpent.

And frankly, when my players did, they were rightfully disgusted. Not only were they sent out to collect serpent poop, at least one of them is infected and will have to willingly ingest some form of it to live.

There's no choice here, really. I ended up modifying that scene by giving out hints first and letting my players decide how to deal with the situation - which meant they had to defeat the wounded snake again because they were wasting too much time while it was unconscious.

It gets choicier

On their way back, they are stopped by people from another village who need the cure as well, leading to another fight - unless the players give up the ingredient. So the players have to choose who lives or dies and fight their way through the original village. Clearly the encounter might only burden their consciences, because somebody will die.

Since my players saved the serpent, the setup of this scene gets another overtone. They figured the leader of the other village might have killed the serpent they worked hard to preserve - a chance that even the hard work they put in was undone. It leaves an aftertaste. They also rightfully questioned how this party could have done all this and overtook them. The illusion players buy in was really wearing thin at this point, threatening the suspension of disbelief altogether.

Also, if you think about it, played straight, the whole adventure is almost a waste of time. The players save some people in the middle of an unfolding zombie horde scenario. If the claims in the adventure are true, no other source of the cure exists, so the Amber Rage will spread until parts of the wilds are depopulated or all the infected killed. The players have saved a dozen people and hundreds or thousands may well die. That the players throw in their allegiances with these particular people may just be stubbornness at this point, they are simply NPCs they know slightly longer and had some scenes with.

Things that don't make sense

If played as written, the players are attacked by the men of Ser Richta, the noble they have argued into staying his hand against the infected. His only motivation is that he is scared of the infected - that's what we know. But why would he send men to stop the returning PCs from delivering a potential cure is completely unknown, there's no motivation.

Since he cannot overrule the local sheriff, apparently, he called in a judge that owes him in some way to basically get rid of the infected. So the players have to come back and somehow stay the execution and allow the cure to even be applied.

Nobody in the local Bann's service seems to have expended anything towards keeping the locals safe. Nobody goes to check on the next village which clearly was overrun. Nobody tried to secure anything. Instead they have time for a mock trial and execution as if that solves anything. They know where the danger came from but do nothing about the actual danger itself.

If dark fantasy means "all people in charge are too stupid to live and will never do anything reasonable" then this gets full marks.

An adventure ruled by dice

Most of the adventure is resolved by dice rolls - and like in the intro adventure from the Quick Start, many situation require a lot of die rolls to resolve, using the advanced mechanics. (And given the short work it gets in the rules explanation, I'm still not sure how "advanced opposed rolls" work...)

Many situations give very little choice as how to approach a particular problem and so come down to particular rolls to resolve them. At least the major debate over the fate of the infected after the battle at the fairground is presented in a way that it should be handled as a debate and only be resolved by die rolls if the players are not up for it.

Given the many combat encounters, many of them inevitable, there seems to be a lot of dice rolling versus other aspects. After the introductory scenes the adventures becomes mostly a linear affair with a chain of scenes to play through.

Only one section contains optional scenes - of which you trigger more if you roll badly.

Some things that were actually good

Giving advice on changing the course of the adventure for certain player choices is a good idea. This is the second Dragon AGE adventure I read to do so, and while its aim is to salvage parts of the adventure or change the motivation, the advice is definitely on the helpful side.

There are several occasions in the adventure where players can have actual impact on the course of the adventure through roleplaying a big discussion with NPCs. They are comparatively well laid out and they spice up the adventure. In comparison, too many other NPC encounters are thinly veiled exposition drops - all painting the same or similar picture, with few notable clues that actually help the players. But the big dialogues will matter, and in fact screwing them up will cost lives.

There are also plenty of NPCs you can chose to bring life to - from the knight pleading for the life of his family, to the fairgoers that end up infected, the various people taking part in the debate on the fate of the infected. Also, when the party was ambushed by tribesmen hunting infected, I distributed the various stances over different characters (I had to make up, but still) and had a lively discussion.

All in all, I wouldn't recommend running the adventure as written. Too much combat, too much dice-rolling, too many filler encounters in the wild that don't equate enriching the adventure, just lengthening it. I removed the scene preventing them from delivering the cure, I added clues to the fairy grotto so players could actually make an informed decision if they paid attention. And still I'm not pleased with the result. While the content varies, it could still use some meat in the wilderness beyond dropping exposition impressions.

Conclusion

Also, the dark fantasy vibe can become very heavy. I think players should feel what they do mattered in some shape and form even if the world they are can be very cruel. They shouldn't feel their work has been undone (the knight that came after them) or like they leave a trail of people to die to save someone they barely know, either. The most cruel part is that the Amber Rage cannot be dealt with since so few resources exist to cure it, so it's another Blight (which it is related to) with fake hope attached to it.

The players could well end up feeling they destroyed the last source of the cure, condemned people to death, and that things are going to get worse without anything they can do about it. And that is still within "winning the mission" parameters. They actually might end up saving no one but themselves with all the original infected at the town either put to the sword or burned at the stake, while players deliver a cure mostly for themselves or people they didn't even meet.

Now, if I want to feel a nihilistic sense of accomplishing nothing or all my work being undone anyway, I play Warhammer... I can see a lot of work went into this one, but I think this aspect was overdone. If more adventures were like this I could well see groups abandoning the system.

[ilbound]

Honesty , a symptom of t r u s t .  For a woman who did not easily barter with truth nor faith , both seemed to come more naturally with Suguru ( & this , however comforting , proved reason for caution ) .  Long has it been since Verona sought to share this part of herself with … ANYONE .  And despite how it dredges up her grief , it also relieves her in some inexplicable way.  Not often does she bear her soul to others , less so do others stand and accept it.  But here , in this conversation , Verona – for the first time in many years – feels h e a r d and u n d e r s t o o d .  She may not have her heart , but she can feel it ( the wretched , incorrigible thing ! ) strike a beat at the sense of fleeting connection which passes between them both.

He is remarkably s i l e n t , she notes , her gaze tracking between his face and the pictures.  Perhaps out of respect.  This is , after all , a piece of someone ( merely one , of course , which manifests the greater whole of the danger beside him ) which requires a tactful propriety ; handling sensitive emotions is never e a s y as a task , Verona knows.  Though she wonders after what he is thinking.  She can certainly breach those boundaries , pry into his head , dig through his thoughts to sate own curiosities— But then , why s p o i l this moment ?

As he returns the pictures , Verona nods in acknowledgement , returning the fold of photos back to their place , safely hidden away behind the silks and furls.  Her gaze seeks the girls , watching them though not s e e i n g them.  For a moment too long , time extending , world fading , DISTORTING , Verona simply stands and stares , stuck there in that unreachable space of in-between.  The horribly broken fractures of own reality realign , if only for a brief instant , coming together to show her the ONE THING she wants , taking place where Nanako and Mimiko are : her own daughter , smiling and alive.

Ravona , just as small and sweet as she remembers ( it is so real – so real – so real — ) , turns and offers a toothy grin.  ‘ Papa … — ’  

Her voice !  Verona refrains from moving , from breathing , simply b a s k i n g in the vision that threatens to CONSUME & POSSESS her entirely.  And then , it collapses.  All of it transpiring within a matter of barely a minute.

‘ … — deal with the grief ? How do you continue without them ? ’

The words her daughter spoke come distorted , broken by the present moment infringing upon the past.  Verona blinks rapidly , dilated pupils slivering and refocusing.  Ah , right , no time for dallying , is there ?  She draws breath and looks over at Suguru again , expression composed , u n r e a d a b l e .  ❝ Would you believe me if I said I hardly do ? ❞  The smile , which she always tends to wear , is now wry and self-bitter.  ❝ Time has made it easier , yes , but I … I am nothing without them. ❞  She laughs , the sound of it empty , ❝ I haven’t a choice , my friend , I continue simply because I m u s t .  And because I am sure they would want me to. ❞  She does not mention she DOES NOT HAVE A CHOICE ; that revelation shall come another time , she thinks.

Wistful. Bitter. Resentful. Yearning. Like a child of two incapable of handling the rush of things that was human emotions, Getō Suguru, despite being a strong and capable of a leader, sat in the middle of a several balls of unraveled emotions. Which was which? Which was justified? A madness cracked his skull in the aftermath of watching a child being shot in front of him, losing a friend, and then witnessing the abuse of two his children. For the sake of his status and the happiness of his children, Suguru did not allow himself to spiral nor did he thrash against the mess that was the unraveled emotions, splayed about like knotted yarn.

In pressing times where emotions wished to burst free with the violence of a rabid beast, he picked at the strings and carefully folded everything into an outwardly composed pile. Suguru said it was passion, and it was, yes, but there was an uglier truth beneath. Haibara Yuu, Amanai Riko, himself, and countless others should not have suffered to begin with, so the fact there were still children used as weapons and others cast aside like pariahs, deemed curse users, irked him to no end. Only Jujutsu elders and those dogs who continued to remain on their leash deserved to be on the end of the onyx haired sorcerer's rage, thus he bit his tongue and sentiment remained . . wistful.

He was equal parts thankful and appalled with the shift in emotions. Rage a dying ember, squashed beneath a tide of sorrow. It was very familiar, very trusting. Yes, Suguru expected as much from someone he was essentially trusting with his family's life, yet he knew one did not have to unfold their entire lives to be considered one of the fold. Like glass about to shatter, the sorcerer handled the precious item with the utmost care. Only Mimiko and Nanako witnessed the true tenderness their father was capable of.

Then there were those such as Miguel or Suga Manami who witnessed, often from afar, how a smile fit Suguru's face as naturally as the sun breaking across the sky each morning. Someone @strywoven this new was exceptional in this experience, to witness the proud peacocking of shoulders deflate with an anguish he did not readily display. As a father, he could only imagine. Hated to imagine. He studied the image with keen and polite eye as she described it as if Suguru himself was attempting to recall someone from his past. Was the other woman a friend? A partner? He never had such a thing, never would, but losing loved ones was not foreign by any means.

How could she stand as she did now? If anything happened to his daughters, he would scorch the entire Earth and die to join his daughters in the after life. People handled trauma and grief in different ways after all . . look at Goj— Skewed ivory hairs and ignorant, boyish smile were shoved into the depths of his mind. Suguru schools his expression despite the muscle's desire to jump eyebrows towards the top of his forehead. A wife, ah. A human. As much as he loathed the vile cockroaches, he had enough sense not to besmirch the woman's memory and Verona's loss. In his mind, he gave both of the deceased voices.

Pictured their laughter. Shared embraces. Simply pulling from what he had with Mimiko and Nanako. He handed over the memorabilia when appropriate and could not . . would not allow his gaze to settle on that of his daughters; it would hurt too much if his imagination turned more vivid. Sugilite eyes were focused on Verona's face and solely her face. Thoughts were vocalized.

── ❛ How do you . . deal with the grief? How do you continue without them? ❜

Her sins? . . What would those be then?

[hobidreams]

june 1869.

you’ve never been able to hide from him.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: smut, angst, fluff? words: 2.3k contains: choices, consequences.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 21. start from the beginning?

The moment you reach your private chambers, you collapse against the door. Your heart softly shudders with strain as you finally let the first tears fall, trickling steadily down your cheeks. The bundles you carried in fall to the floor as you cover your face with your cold hands, trying to stifle the quiet sobs that seem so determined to come.

You had gone into town after your work today. Walked down, escorted by a guard that you pretended wasn’t there. (The king now insisted upon such a thing whenever you left the palace walls, but you could tell the guard thought the job much beneath him.) You had just finished picking up a few ingredients from the market traders and was on your way to see if the bookstore had received new products when your attention had been caught by the sizeable crowd gathered outside the town clinic.

“Please, please, give me medicine for my daughter!” The peasant woman clutched a child that couldn’t have been more than two years old. The babe’s crying was as raucous as the yelling, the noisy mix of voices all clamoring with want.

“I need to see someone! My side— It hurts every day. I can’t work anymore. My family’s going to starve. I need treatment!”

The physician’s assistant stood on the clinic steps with folded arms and a bitter, hard look on his face. “Are we running a charity? We need to eat too! If you can’t pay, you can’t see the doctor!” He slammed the door in their faces, leaving them out in the sweltering heat, crying out that they could pay next week or as soon as they could, they just needed help right now, but the door remained shut.

Your chest felt stiflingly tight at the sight, compassion’s hand squeezing hard around your heart because you knew you could help. You had to help. You took a step forward, ready to offer your services only to have the guard block your way.

“Su-uinyeo-nim. We must return to the palace.”

“No, I want to stay.”

He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. They could harm you.” And if they did, then his own head would likely be on the chopping block. Ridiculous.

“They won’t. They just need treatment, and I’m a physician.” You didn’t have many of your tools here but you could at least take a look, provide a diagnosis or recommend some easily obtainable herbs.

“The king would not approve of putting yourself in danger.”

You opened your mouth only to shut it. The king wouldn’t approve of a lot of things, but how could you just stand here and do nothing? These people, they needed your skills.

You took another step forward.

“Su-uinyeo-nim.” The guard’s voice was firm. He indicated for you to start walking away, towards home.

You shot him a stare, the hardest look you could conjure, but didn’t move. Not yet, damn it.

“Oh—uinyeo-nim!”

You dallied long enough. One of the women had evidently recognized your outfit and was now barreling towards you with a fire in her eyes. “Uinyeo-nim, you can help me, right!? It’s my daughter, she’s been having a fever and—”

“No, she cannot.” The guard’s glare was as sharp as the blade that the hand on his sword promised.

“Oh, please!” She threw herself against the arm the guard tried to reign her in with. Threw herself forward trying to reach you. “My daughter, my daughter will die if she’s not treated!”

“Let me—” You started, only for the guard to shove her harshly back since he could not do the same to you. She cried out, almost toppling over from the force as she clutched her baby, but he did not relent.

“We are leaving.”

He began to boldly walk towards you, practically into you, leaving you no choice in the matter. You were too afraid he might hurt her further if you did not comply even though every step away felt like a blow to your chest, like tiny fists pounding against your ribcage, making you sore and ache because the stark truth was that your inability to help her wasn’t even entirely the guard’s fault.

All those years ago, you chose to stay.

You never opened the affordable clinic mother had dreamed of. You put your feelings before the wellbeing of all those people you could have helped then, and you did it again today. Selfish. Selfish and helpless and selfish. For all the work you’ve done, it never feels like enough. There are always more patients in need and here you are, living among this extravagance and opulence but really getting nowhere. Not with the king. Not with how much change you can bring to the people.

Even your tears can only be shed here, in privacy and cowardice.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you whisper through your blurry vision, but these are just words. They do nothing in the end and every choice feels like the wrong one and that there will only be dire consequences to follow them.

“Su-uinyeo-nim?”

At Eunuch Kim’s muted voice, you startle. Hurriedly, you wipe the backs of your hands against your eyes. “Y-Yes?”

“The king has requested your company tonight.”

“Oh.” Shit. You’re in no state to face him, not for what he has in mind, but you must go. “I-I’ll be ready in a few minutes. Just allow me to… change.” You push to your feet, onto shaky legs as you sniff.

“Of course.”

The brief walk over in the cool summer evening helps to pull some of the sorrow from your mind (or at least tucks it away to be revisited later when you find yourself as always, alone). Eunuch Kim is kind enough not to probe into the heaviness about you today; he simply chats about the latest novel he has picked up in town, a study of birds that he recommends heartily to you. The king is not so kind. The second you enter his chambers, tilt your head just enough for him to catch your eye, he frowns.

“You’ve been crying.”

It’s not a question.

“I, um, simply had some dust in my eyes, jeonha.”

Searching for a distraction, you begin to undo the tie of your blouse. You’ve never purposefully let him see you openly upset, or at least not since this ‘arrangement’ began.

“Dust. Really.”

You nod, unwilling to meet his stare.

The floorboard creaks as he steps towards you. Covers your hands with his own so he can strip you instead. You can’t tell if he believes you; he is so quiet while he pulls layer after layer from you, letting the fabric drop to the floor in bunches of crumpled white and light blue. The warmth of his fingers on your skin feels like comfort, even when it’s only a prelude to his desire.

Isn’t it stupid, that some excessive part of you wants him to openly refute your lies even as you tell them? To undress your mind as hungrily he does your body until you have no choice but to be bared and free, released from the burden of your own thoughts?

“Get on the bed.”

Maybe it’s better like this. You are the only woman he has ever known in this way; you can’t let yourself be so greedy, to again let that selfish part of you want and want and want so much that appetite consumes you, bones and all. You press your palms and knees to the hard bedding. Squeeze your eyes together. Force the tears to stay back while you wait for the burn to come.

His calloused hands land on your waist, but it’s to urge you to turn over instead.

“J-Jeonha?” you question, confused when you see him already on his knees, that piercing gaze provoking goosebumps from your skin. “Why…”

His hands find your ass, urging you towards the edge of the bed. He throws the top layer of his robes aside before he spreads your legs apart, letting them rest against the wood.

What… What is he doing? You find your answer as the sokgot strips fall to the floor beneath his touch and abruptly, before your poor heart has time to prepare itself, his breath blows warm across your clit.

“Ah, this—!” Wild-eyed, you try to squirm back, hot with embarrassment that his face is this close to your crotch. It floods you with worry after worry about your scent, the possible bumps marring your skin, the tufts of hair, but he doesn’t seem to care about any of it as he hooks his hands beneath your thighs. “You’re not—”

Soft lips and a slick tongue are pressed flush against you.

Your entire body seems to quiver at the first lick; a single taste of wetness followed by a second, a third, a relentless fourth that makes liquid pleasure crest, surging upwards, a high, rushing tide in mere seconds. You buck, hands finding no support upon the sheets and part of you wants to cover your face instead, to let die the moans that surface with each gasp but that means you would miss the sight. This unforgettable sight: inky eyes between your thighs, the quick, pink tip of his tongue swiping heat directly into your veins. It feels messy before he finds his rhythm, settles into a beat that only reaffirms how he is irrefutably dominant even while he is on his knees before you, for once not breaking you apart but making you feel so dizzyingly whole you could burst.

While his fingers have learned almost every inch of you, this remains a scenario you never even thought to entertain, never even thought he would want. His pleasing only you. His putting you at the forefront of even his own satisfaction. Stop. The grip on your thigh tightens; you never want him to let go. Stop giving me hope. He does anyway with a drawn out suck, his stare as hazy and heady as if he’s been drinking the most exquisite cheongju.

Your body is taut, sweat beading down your spine. “This is— I can’t—”

“You can,” he quips back, and whatever words you could have said are stolen by orgasm. Taken, and made unbecoming moans that blow past the last shreds of your resistance now resting between his teeth.

It overwhelms you, this newfound sensitivity from being consumed; it makes you want to shirk back but he doesn’t let you. Somehow one of your legs finds its way over his shoulder and he uses that momentum to keep you against his stunning mouth, giving you what you need but never what you want. Each lick nudges you further off the edge, finding an acute bliss past every limitation you thought you had and you think, feverishly you think — it’s like he’s giving you permission to fall apart.

Tears coalesce at the corner of your eyes but you don’t notice. You don’t even know they’re there until wetness trails down your cheeks and even then you’re distracted by another peak, this one a muted swell that makes your muscles tense around his thin frame; he supports your weight without a word of complaint as his strokes finally dwindle in time with your pulses until both drop off entirely.

As he lets your leg roll off his arm, his breaths come almost as unsteadily as yours. Slowly, he retracts his wide hands from your thighs. Rolling his tongue against the inside of his own cheek, you watch him paint your taste in his mouth and don’t know what to make of any of it.

It’s only when a few tears cling to your eyelashes and blur your vision that you realize what’s happening. How embarrassing. You told yourself you wouldn’t do this on the way here and look at you now. You’re about to reach up to wipe away the tears, the damning evidence of your weakness when the king wraps his hands tight around your wrists. Pushes you back. Presses his knees to the bed as he hovers above you, all silence and heat and him.

“Um, j-jeon—”

He leans down and cuts you off with a kiss.

You gasp into his mouth but he doesn’t pull away. He is just soft, persistent, firm, and soft as he moves naturally across territory that should have been unfamiliar, but instead it feels like he’s been mapping, planning this capture for as long as you have. An impossible dream, yes, but the warm breath ghosting across your skin, lingering, is real. You open for him. For your first kiss. Your first kiss with him.

The warm fingers at your wrist squeeze harder.

“You… You can cry.” His voice is a murmur, delicate and hesitant against your lips, as if imparting a secret. “If you want.”

So you do.

You finally let yourself cry while he kisses you again and again, adjusting his angle to push you further into the pillows, releasing a wrist to cup your wet cheek. He kisses you with his nose pressed to yours, a tiny, precious moan finding freedom from someone’s throat.

Yoongi, your mind recalls, clinging to the syllables that belong to a word you’ve never dared to say aloud as he kisses you, kisses you, kisses you until both your mouths are swollen and your chest feels a bit lighter, his a bit heavier in exchange.

And when he finally pulls away, he holds you. His arms accept all your gravity for just a few lingering minutes more, a few heartbeats more, until it’s time for you to go.

[rostovs-lover]

dalí on tuesday

charlie dalton x reader | cursing, smoking, brief mentions of sexual things, charlie (probably) has daddy issues, cameron | she/her pronouns | fluff | wc.2562

i am in love with charlie, this is now a charlie dalton centric blog, also ignore how terrible the title is please

anon : Hi!! I love your blog! can I request a charlie Dalton x reader fluff where reader is an artist and he visits them while they're painting? (maybe they end up wiping paint on his face?) I don't know, something really sweet at cute <33333

Charlie Dalton had been resigned to relish in small pleasures to keep himself sane at school, never did he think the library would be one of those. More specifically, the painter tucked into the basement of the library. 

                            ───☮︎───

     Charlie Dalton was a connoisseur of many things. Pretty girls, expensive wine, shitty poetry, and hand rolled cigarettes - to name a few. His imprisonment at Wellington made only one of those things readily available. So he settled - boxes of cheap smokes bought through upperclassmen, bottles of grocery store wine someone would sneak in from a party, and the two girls that occasionally came with Knox. The shitty poetry was always on deck, he had that at least. It was a tragedy to be resigned to such a bland life, there was absolutely no carpe diem-ing happening in a school that held adolescent boys to uniforms.

      It was miserable, truly, but Charlie scrapped by on the thought that soon enough there would be no more stuffy Catholic school and he could finally have a taste of freedom. In the meantime, he would have what little fun he could. The meets in the cave were always the highlight of the week. A place where he could talk and people would listen, and not because they had to but because they enjoyed it. They enjoyed his words and thoughts and presence. No one else had ever really seemed to enjoy Charlie’s presence. They could tolerate it, handle it, but they always had more pressing matters. A business meeting to attend, a bill to pay, a dinner to go to. Always something just a little bit more important and never quite enough time for Charlie. But the other Dead Poets, they valued him. He wasn’t just a kid, a college tuition to pay and a life to layout. He was a person, with interests and hobbies.

      It had been there, in the safe haven of the cave, that the idea for the library first came up. Meeks had already talked Pitts into coming, Neil didn’t take much convincing at all, Todd was also easy to lure, Cameron groaned about leaving school grounds but refused to be left out, and Knox agreed to go but only if Nuwanda came too. Charlie had already started to cover what there was to do at a library, read?

      Meeks dove into the technical manuals and Pitts followed tentatively, cradling their science project in his arms. Todd had followed Neil to the S authors, Cameron was trying to chat up the woman at the register, and God only knew what Knox was doing. He had been stranded with few options. He could find the geniuses and be talked over for the next hour or third wheel Neil but that guaranteed intruding on something he probably shouldn’t. The polite thing to do would be to rescue Cameron from making a complete fool of himself, throwing bad pick up lines at a clearly uninterested college student, but it was amusing to watch.

      Charlie settled on trying to find Knox, at least then he could have some company. Said company was absolutely nowhere to be found. The rows of shelves wound in a confusing maze and Charlie was lost before he could even begin to look. Weaving around he did come face-to-face with a rather large picture of Charles Dickens that made him recoil. It was perched just at eye level above a short staircase and it seemed to judge his every movement. Charlie followed the carpeted stairs down to escape Mister Dickens’ strange little beard and beady black eyes.

      The further down the steps Charlie descended the brighter it appeared. The lower level was the children’s section. Considerably more fun than science books or Shakespeare. The big oak counter was abandoned but the lights were still on. He was alone, still.

      Charlie sighed, sitting down in one of the bright red wooden chairs. He was much too big for it but it held well under his weight. A sad stuffed bear stared dully into him from the green glossy table.

      “Well hello,” He mumbled, picking it up under the arms, “And you must be?” He cleared his throat to take on a gruff baritone, “Mister... Bearington,” Charlie sighed, that was bad. He dropped the bear into his lap, “This is so stupid,”

      “Bearington?”

      Charlie shot around in the chair, tipping himself off center and stumbling to his feet, bear still clutched in his arms, “Where the hell did you come from?”

      “A few blocks over, walked here actually.” You turned back to your work. A painting. Not just a painting, Charlie realized, a mural. It stretched the length of the wall, roughly sketched in pencil and waiting to be finished.

      He blinked, “That’s good. The wall I mean,”

      “Thank you,” Your face flustered and Charlie took notice, “It’s not much of anything yet, just an outline. It’ll look better painted.”

      He took a few steps closer, sidling up to you, “What’s it supposed to be?”

      “A forest,” You pointed to a rotund blob perched on a long line, “That’s an owl, and there’s going to be a fox somewhere down in the grass,”

      Charlie grinned, “That’s an owl?”

      “That-” you tapped the blob, “Is a shape, objectively. Subjectively, it’s an owl.”

      His brow creased, “Subjectively it’s an owl? That's like saying Mister Bearington is a rabbit, subjectively,”

      You stared at him, baffled. It was almost irritating that he could so casually come down to your domain and invade your creative bubble. And it was even worse that he talked to himself as a stuffed bear but now he was challenging your judgment on what was and was not subjectively an owl. But he had a wonderful smile and it lessened the intrusion. Plus, you had never seen a teenage boy develop an attachment to a stuffed bear as quickly as he had, “What’s your name?”

      “Nuwanda,” He grinned, setting his chin atop his bear’s plush head.

      “Nuwanda?” You blinked at him, “That’s… neat. I’ve never heard that before.”

      “What can I say? The only Nuwanda this side of Vermont. What’s your name?”

      As you opened your mouth to answer several sets of footsteps thundered down the stairs. Knox spun around the corner first, closely followed by Pitts and Meeks.

      “Charlie!” Knox called, “We gotta go before Cameron proposes to the clerk.”

      You looked at the boy in front of you, “Is Charlie short for Nuwanda, or just a nickname?”

      He shrugged, “I’m Nuwanda, subjectively. It was truly a pleasure meeting you. Can’t wait to see your thing DaVinci!” He set the stuffed bear back on the table as he made his way out of the room. With Charlie’s energy gone it became much quieter and you were plunged back into the impressionistic outline of your artwork.

      The next time a library trip was suggested Charlie didn’t completely dread it. Yes, it was still numbingly boring because it was a library and he didn’t have clerks to fall in love with, people to write love letters to, anyone to kiss in the aisles, or a spaceship to build, but he did have his own personal Van Gough to torment.

      The lower level was the first place he went, not even hanging his coat on the rack inside the big double doors. He made his way past Cameron’s preoccupied receptionist and under Dickens’ hard glower. Halfway down the steps, the smell hit Charlie. Wet paint.

      You had just picked out a brush when he pulled one of the wooden chairs next to your station. He sat in it backwards, holding Mister Bearington out in front of him, “Never got your name Monet,”

      “Well, it's not that. Or Da Vinci.” You stroked the brush up the grassy outline.

      “Do you want me to guess?”

      You had yet to look at him, “Nope,”

      “Are you gonna tell me?”

      “Should I?”

      “Obviously, I told you my name.”

      You set the brush down and turned to face him, “(Name).”

      “Pretty,”

      Charlie Dalton liked many things and the musty old library uptown had never been one of them. It had ancient red carpets and gaudy gold ceilings and it was trying too hard to look regal. So it was a sheer shock when he began to leap at the suggestion of going and even more so when he chose to go by himself one afternoon. Naturally, the other poets followed him, they had to.

      Charlie didn’t dally upstairs, waving hi to the clerk and rushing down to the children’s section. A sign was posted outside the entrance warning of wet paint but he stepped around it.

      “You’re making progress Picasso!” He set his hands on his hips and took in the wall.

      You turned back to look at him, “Did you not see the caution: wet paint, do not enter sign?”

      “Oh no I saw it,” He pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head, “It's bright orange, hard to miss, really,”

      “So you just chose to ignore it?”

      He nodded, making his way over to sit by you on the ground, “I choose to ignore lots of things, it really makes life easier,”

      You shook your head, “Are you just going to sit here and bother me?”

      “Yes, that's actually the whole reason I came today, believe it or not.”

      You blubbered in vague disbelief, “Please tell me you’re not serious,”

      “Dead serious,” Charlie grinned, leaning closer, “I had to see how your weird owl was going. And also make sure you hadn’t gone mad and cut your own ear off yet,”

      “You’ve already used the Van Gogh joke, Charles,”

      “Maybe I want your ear,”

      You paused, “You… what?”

      Charlie’s confidence cracked, “That was bad. Shit, that wasn’t supposed to sound that way. It was like, a bad pickup line? Because Van Gogh cut his ear off to send to his girlfriend,” He sighed, shaking his head, “Sorry,”

      “I mean if I had to pick someone to give my ear too I guess you would be my first choice?”

      Charlie looked at you, eyebrows pinched together, “Why?”

      You shrugged, “No one else has asked, first come first serve.” You dipped your brush back into the blue paint and went to work on a patch of flowers.

      “Huh, well I do appreciate it,” Charlie scooted closer, leaning over your shoulder. He was close, very close. When you took a breath you could smell his cologne and whatever it was he used in his hair and you could feel the edge of his sunglasses brush your ear. He brought an arm around to dip his finger into the soft sky colour on your palette. And then he wiped it on your nose.

      You gasped sharply at the foreign feeling, snapping your head to the side to glare at him, “Why?!”

      Charlie snickered, leaning back, “The opportunity presented itself, how could I just let that pass?”

      You reached back, squirting a touch of purple paint over the palm of your hand, “That was truly a horrible idea,”

      Charlie shot up just as you did, stumbling backwards, “I’m sorry-” He stuck his hands up in surrender, “I regret my actions and if I could take them back I would,”

      “Hmm, but you can’t” You took a step closer, “Surrender now and it doesn’t have to get any messier than this,”

      He pointed towards your paint coated hand, “Do not,”

      You grinned, “I might,”

      “I’m begging,”

      “Fine-” You offered him your other hand, “Truce?”

      Charlie mulled it over for a moment, “Fine, truce,” He grabbed your clean hand and you used it to pull him towards you.

          “Why on earth would you trust me?” You tugged him even closer as he shrieked and smeared your hand down his cheek, “There, now we’re even,”

      Getting distracted by your triumph gave Charlie the upper hand. He pulled you to him the same you had done to him and pressed his cheek flush to yours. The paint was cold against your skin and you jolted back, away from him.

      “Vile,” You hissed, “You are vile and evil. That's so cold. You will pay, I hope you know that.”

      Charlie snorted, “Oh please, what’re you gonna do?”

      “You underestimate me, you ass, I’ll figure something out,”

      “Will you?” Charlie grinned, “I will be waiting in anticipation,”

      “You better be,”

      Meeks elbowed back into Cameron’s ribs, “You’re going to knock me over,”

      Cameron craned his neck further to peek around the corner into the children’s section, “I just want to see, let me look,”

      “Nothing is happening-” Meeks snipped, “They’re just talking now and I might be able to hear if you could can it!”

      Cameron rolled his eyes, “Of course, whatever you say,”

      “Will you shut up?” Knox batted at Cameron’s shoulder, “They’ll see us, we’re not super well hidden,”

      “If you don’t stop talking they’ll realize we’re here,” Pitts mumbled, rolling his eyes. Cameron started to rebuttal, turning to look at Gerard but the motion knocked Meeks out of place and he gasped, stumbling forwards. This did indeed draw Charlie’s attention.

      “Meeks, what the hell?” Charlie snapped. He was in a state, sunglasses askew in his hair, paint smeared from his cheekbone down to the corner of his mouth, and his shirt was wrinkled away from his collarbone.

      Meeks stared, “Hi Charlie. Are there any textbooks down here, uh… the science ones?”

      Knox groaned, stepping out from behind the wall as well, “We wanted to see why you came here on a Tuesday afternoon by yourself,”

      Charlie blubbered, “Did you all come? Is Keating there too?”

      “He could be,” Meeks shrugged.

      Charlie rolled his eyes, “Will you leave, I’ll be upstairs in a second,” The other poets nodded, scampering up the steps to the first level.

      “Assholes, should have known they’d come,” Charlie sighed, adjusting the sunglasses atop his head, “I need to go before they decide to intrude again. I’ll see you soon though, anxiously anticipating payback,”

      He was almost out the door when you bucked up the courage to call out to him, “Charlie, wait.” You let him turn back to you before continuing, “Could I have your phone number?”

      He clicked his teeth, “Don’t have one, private school. But I’ll find the library number in the books and try to shoot you a call sometime,” He winked and started back up to his friends.

      Knox was waiting at the landing with a handful of tissues, which he shoved into Charlie’s hands, “So you’re gonna read your stupid poem about tits at a Dead Poets meet and then not tell us you’ve got a girlfriend?”

      Charlie grabbed the tissues, “Not my girlfriend, I meet her like two weeks ago,”

      “Didn’t stop Knox,” Neil elbowed him.

      Charlie wiped at his face, “Well I’m not Knox. I like her painting, she's good.”

      “It looks like she was painting you,” Cameron slapped at Charlie’s chest and he threw the tissues at him in retaliation.

      “Shut up, at least my library worker actually talks to me,”

      Cameron fumbled with the dirty material, batting it away from his chest, “You dick!”

      Charlie grinned, pulling his glasses down and starting towards the door. Something about it was thrilling, having this to himself. A little secret that he and you shared. His personal Salvador Dalí, something to look forwards to besides bad tobacco and Keating’s eccentric lectures. It was bright and exciting and he felt seen. He felt important. The blue paint he had stolen from your tray was still on the tip of his pointer finger and he wondered how long it would be until he could see you again.

 ( @interwebseriesfan24 )

[skysaunter]

              𝙽𝙾 𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝚁𝚈 𝙳𝚁𝙾𝙸𝙳𝚂 𝙼𝙰𝙳𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳𝚂 𝙰𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚁.   not when it was well past the usual check-in time, and on a rotation his captors didn’t normally bother with feeding their only prisoner.  shortly after the incongruity, the lone glowpanel in the corridor flickered off, a coincidence too conveniently timed to ignore.

vader might have dismissed the peculiarities if it were just a matter of an hour’s discrepancy.  he would’ve suppressed his mounting restlessness, the persistent urge compelling him to seize control and impress upon his captors that their foolish dallying would inevitably lead to dire consequences.  but these deviations reached far beyond routine breaking.  vader had meticulously committed to memory the specifications, designs, and routines of every sentry droid he encountered in this confined space.  none of them exhibited a silhouette quite akin to the one taking shape meters away from where he resided behind prison bars.

for over long moments, the dark lord stared into the pitch-black depths of the corridor, waiting as the anticipation of long-awaited company set him on edge once more.

yet, there was nothing.  nothing but the hushed ambiance and the disquiet he had furiously shoved aside days ago, after coming awake to a profound stillness, the realization that the world around him had plunged into a deafening silence, excruciatingly unresponsive and opaque.  his captors had taken from him everything, severing his connection to his intuitive compass and leaving him unmoored, isolated from the vast galaxy and its myriad wonders.

for this crime alone, vader would see to it his captors tasted a comparable form of suffering, at least before he crushed their throats.

vader didn’t witness the event—he didn’t require visual confirmation, even without the guiding touch of the force—but he discerned precisely when solitude was no longer his companion.

across the dim expanse, where the meager light of a single, flickering glowpanel fell short, stood the same humanoid outline from hours earlier, now with more distinct features.  it wasn’t merely another manifestation of imagination bleeding into reality, a newfound symptom induced by extended exposure to a force-inhibiting device, but real.  tangible.

              the silhouette then cleaved itself in two.

after enduring hours of anticipation, the impending visit had lost its claim to enthusiasm.  vader’s response to the pair in close proximity presented as a less-than-enthusiastic scowl—an expression, upon consideration, that may not have been the most cautious choice for a first impression.  then again, vader harbored substantial doubts that this encounter remotely resembled a first impression.  these two, whoever they were, preferred to maintain a distance, opting instead for the use of surveillance devices: holocams embedded in the walls, strategically positioned in high-up cracks that caught the light at specific times of the day, and electrobugs discreetly welded into the metal frame of the cot.

from the outset of his incarceration, numerous eyes scrutinized his every move, listened intently to each breath, and captured every soft curse muttered.  and for what purpose?

from the corner of his cell, vader continued to observe the hooded figures, his demeanor composed as he settled into his seat, long legs extending with an expectant air.  eventually, the taller one of the two stepped forward and dropped their cowl to reveal a pale, angular face branded with intricate patterns, tattoos he’d seen somewhere long, long ago, in another life…  nightsisters, was his belated realization, the specific designs belonging to a nightsister of the long-dead talzin clan.

❝took you long enough,❞ vader chided, his tone a facsimile of cordial.  ❝i assume you have a good excuse for keeping me waiting.  did you get lost on the way here?❞

eyes the color of burnished steel further narrowed as she assessed him, her plum-red lips twisting into a contemptuous sneer, as though she had expected more than just the one good-looking fellow seated all by his lonesome.

❝i hope your delay means you’ve prepared a formidable defense, for your sake—❞

like a kodashi viper, the nightsister struck with lightning-fast speed and more strength than vader had initially attributed to the petite woman; her closed fist met his jaw in less than a second, the force of the blow sending his head snapping downward.  pain rocketed up the side of his face, pricking the bottom of his left eye until it twitched repeatedly.                 big mistake.

jerking his chin to flick a loose curl from his face, vader turned slowly, his eyes sharp and steady as he gazed up at the woman from beneath his brows.  he worked his jaw—partly for show, partly to assess the exponentially growing ache—before licking his lips, the metallic taste of blood spreading fast on his tongue.

❝get to the point.  you went through a lot of trouble to capture me.  care to share the reason behind it?❞

unsurprisingly, the nightsister offered no answers; instead, she pivoted, signaling to her companion who swiftly removed the rucksack slung over their shoulder, delving into its contents until they unearthed what they sought.  their cowl came down with one fluid motion, prompting vader to arch a brow at his second captor’s newly revealed face—a young adult zabrak with features too similar to mistake him for anything other than her closely related family. 

❝master,❞ he intoned in a low, gruff voice, evading vader’s probing gaze.  in his outstretched hand was a string of beads, jewelry crafted from carved wood and colorful shards of perforated stone.  a sinister energy emanated from it in waves, its force power so distinct and potent that it somehow counteracted the effects of the force-inhibiting cell.  it was then vader noticed the door behind them was open, unguarded, and a mere handful of long strides away—the yearning made itself known again, settling deep in his bones and itching somewhere in the recesses of his chest.

               a warning, feeble and scrabbling, given to 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐍𝐄 through the opened conduit.

❝attempt to use my lifeforce, and you’ll unleash a wrath you can’t comprehend.  my life is not a bargaining chip.  release me.  now.❞

at this point in his life, the young prince should be used to the assassination attempts, kidnappings, and all the other inconvenient nonsense that came with being imperial royalty. yet here he is, flooded with disbelief and frustration. his palms press against his eyes as the holovid of his grandfather's capture plays on repeat for the umpteenth time.

did the sanity of vacation time mean nothing to these villains? were they so debased and cowardly that they could only dare an attack while Vader was stark-ass naked in a hot spring? was this a group of vindictive 'saber-wielding darksiders or a bunch of aggressive perverts? matt knows that it's the former — at the very least he hopes it's the former, he isn't sure how he'll react if it's the latter — and that he must act swiftly and cautiously. every precious second that passes is another moment that endangers his grandfather's life. like hell he'll leave his precious Master alone with those promiscuous assailants for longer than necessary.

the prince shuts the holovid off. he needs quiet to focus. matt sits with his back straight, legs crossed, and palms resting on his lap as he settles into deep meditation on the floor of Vader's room.

please be all right, he pleas through their bond. even now there's a disconnect in their bond — it feels so strange not to be able to speak with his grandfather, to hear him speak back — cut off by what Matt knows is a force inhibitor. still, the young man continues with no small amount of hope that the force will give even a whisper of his concerns to the man he so desperately wants to find. please be safe, gran'pa. and please . . . at least have pants.

but whispering pleas down a blocked bond will not save the emperor; it might, however, help to find him.

it's almost like a game of hide and seek, Matt thinks to himself. a game he used to play Luke years ago, one that taught Matt the very skill he uses now. the next time he sees his papa he's going envelop him in a crushing hug for these precious teachings.

hazel eyes close and with every breath, he falls deeper and deeper into concentration as force guides him along the fading teether of his bond with his master. images of the darksiders flash to his mind causing his focus to intensify. somewhere in the wide expanse of the cosmos, that emperor-napping group sith-wannabes gather together, foolishly believing that they could keep his Master hidden away, but Matt will find them. he'll find his grandfather; he'll bring him home.

minutes or hours pass as his search continues, the force guiding him to what he seeks: visions of a star system in the far reaches of the galaxy, of a desolate planet that seems near forgotten and dusted in snow.

shrouded in a thick, suffocating cloud of darkness stand tall monuments carved from stone lining a path littered with jutting sharp stones that lead to a temple. Matt's teeth grind together anxiously. of course they took him to a Sith temple. at least he knows where to find his grandfather now.

Matt offers his deepest gratitude to the force for guiding his search before he raids his Master's closet.

a pair of pants, a tunic, and a robe are stuffed into his pack before being slung over his shoulder. he can't be too safe or too sure when it comes to the perverse treatment of his grandfather considering his kidnapper's method of capture. as matt heads toward the hanger bay he mutters a quiet hope that they at least gave Vader the dignity of a pair of shorts.

landing closer to his destination might have been easier but it'd only serve to alert the enemy to his presence sooner than later. that, and he wasn't exactly sure where on this planet the temple he sought was. walking is the only option viable, and it takes what feels like hours for Matt to reach the temple on foot.

though, for the last bit of his trek, every step feels heavier and harder to take. the shadow cast by the temple smothers him in darkness so familiar and yet so oppressively worse than he's grown to know. vader's presence had never felt so. . . terrible to him. not like this. it causes his stomach to roll and churn with anxiety, and every hair on his body stands on end.

"kriff!" nausea blooms in his gut from the curious, demented tendrils of darkness looking to draw out pain and terror. Matt nearly doubles over and empties the contents of his stomach by the time he makes it to the entrance of the temple.

the sudden noise of alarm that comes from the magna droid startles him. matt nearly forgot about his friend. somehow, he manages a smile. "i'll be okay, Iggy. just uh, ya know. pretty intense force stuff. ha ha ha." not the most eloquently put, but Matt doesn't care for waxing poetics at the moment. at least he's not alone on this mission; that's a plus.

he leans against the temple wall as he attempts to calm himself from the onslaught of darkness whispering that this rescue will fail, that he will fail; he refuses to believe it. he can't afford to. there's too much at stake for the young apprentice to fail his Master.

he knows it's only going to get worse before it gets better, and it might not get better at all. but he'll suffer this torment if it means he can retrieve his grandfather and deliver him back home where he belongs.

"don't worry, gran'pa, i'll find you."

with newfound resolve and determination despite the oppressiveness looming all around him, Matt takes his first steps into the temple —

— and promptly retches.

[pumpkinsy0]

here’s gamer pon n rockstar curly1!1!1!111!!!1!

take some hcs

•sometimes pony would stream in a onesie as an inside joke w his watchers

•first time curly saw it they were live and he just stared at pony n walked out

•pony is still goin to college, he did not suffer in high school for nothing

• darry was pretty iffy w pony’s choice of what he was doin but fuck it he’s happy so u do u pon

•tim and angela were suspicious of pony at first bc curlys past relationships with others weren’t the best

•but he grew on them quick bc he’s funny as hell😋

•soda didn’t like curly at first bc he thought he would be stuck up

•i mean he still doesn’t like him but it’s not bc he thinks he’s stuck up, he’s not

•once pony had to leave for a sec so he let curly entertain his stream and came back to curly singing “baked beans” over and over like in that one vine

•there’s compilations everywhere that’s just “curly and pony just being a chaotic couple for way too fucking long for me to calculate”

•johnny isnt rlly into video games but doesnt mind hanging with pony while he streams

•two bit would show it to darry while he’s just thin to chill and yknow what?? it warms darrys heart to know that pony’s havin the time of his life

•steve would come and fuck with pony 😐

•ngl its pretty entertaining when he does

•when pony comes to visit, dally would tease him with the stupid shit ponys done in stream

•well him and steve would

•also, pony just streams whatever he feels like, not just games🦭

[shoichee]

potential juicy part 3: when they meet akashi again at the winter cup, reader, who now "hates" him, disrespects him to his face + pretends she doesn't care. but after kuroko reveals the whole story the night before rakuzan game, she's forced to confront the truth + they go all out against him (and win ofc) so akashi, now back to being akashi, confesses to reader, ig reader finally tells him what happened? (did i just write a wholeass fic in your askbox i am so sorry) btw tysm for the part 1!!

LMAOO THE WHOLEASS FIC SENT ME HELPP you snapped off in your request i can only deliver justice.... did i just listened to some KNB openings on repeat to manifest myself to pretend I’m the characters so I can accurately write them?.......... n-no...... part 1 here and part 2 here ^^ AND part 4 here

Akashi x f!Reader (but 99% g/n)

Part 3 

[Teiko!manager Headcanons]

shortly after Rakuzan’s victory against Shuutoku, the Rakuzan starters were walking together in the hallway to their lockers when you were blocking the way, hogging up the vending machines in the middle of the hallway to buy your teammates refreshments and snacks and then shoving them into your small backpack

Hayama impatiently yells at you to scram and Mayuzumi gives his own condescending comment, and you immediately looked up to see the infamous team

you instantly freeze up when you see Akashi in the back of the group just wordlessly staring as usual, and you just stay at your spot completely still for a while

“... Girl! Are you even listening?! Are you dumb or deaf?”

“That’s no way to speak to a girl!”

“Ow! But Reo-nee…”

“Maybe she just needs to eat? She’s probably hungry.”

“Ugh, no one else is like you, you know!”

“Tch.”

Mayuzumi merely frowns before he casually looks behind to see a rather intense aura emanating from Akashi, which is quite rare considering that you were a nobody compared to him and you weren’t someone who threatened him in any way… unless that was actually the case? but he merely observes from the shadows

“Move. You’re in the way.”

you incredulously stand up straight from his words and point a finger at him:

“I-I… I can’t believe it! This is the first thing you say to me after all this time?! Everything that happened at Teiko… was… was all your fucking fault! I hope the final game becomes your own downfall, you fucking jerk! And I hope I never see you again after tomorrow night.”

by now, you were hyperventilating from shouting at him, and the teammates were stunned… and absolutely fearful, their gazes darting back to Akashi to see his chilling gaze at you, looking quite calm

“How laughable. You haven’t changed at all, (y/n). You can believe in Seirin’s basketball all you want, say all you want, but it’s all pointless. Rakuzan will achieve victory like it always has. Now step aside.”

you only gape your mouth as you furiously huff and aggressively grab your packed bag and run, but as you dash away, you slightly stumble from the dizziness you felt from the emotional stress

ngl, Reo and Nebuya kinda pitied you watching you run

when you were gone from his field of vision, Akashi merely tells them to move onto the lockers and acts like nothing ever happened

you’ve practically convinced yourself that you truly hated Akashi for hurting Kuroko and destroying teamplay at Teiko… but in truth, you were only using him as a scapegoat to get over your unrequited feelings for him // of course the deepest part of you knew that the adults were responsible, and you knew that Akashi fulfilled his role of captain to the very end (while you meanwhile still had lingering feelings of self-doubt in your work ethic all this time)

while you were extremely happy for the Seirin team for making it to Winter Cup finals, you were so ashamed to even have the fleeting thought that you wanted Seirin to lose in the semi-finals so you didn’t have to face Akashi again

the late evening before the game tomorrow, Kuroko was in the mostly empty stadium, mostly because he wanted to reminisce about the old times before he faces Rakuzan tomorrow

it was a very unfortunate coincidence that Akashi was also there to survey the court for a moment before the game tomorrow

both of them held a long moment of eye contact before Kuroko decides to call him out

“Akashi-kun.”

“Tetsuya.”

“Have you ever had fun playing with Rakuzan?”

“To think that I had a fleeting thought of you asking me a different question this time. I can never understand how you’re fixated on such a pitiful ideal.”

“... Then… have you always felt this way even since the beginning of Teiko?” Akashi merely narrows his eyes at Kuroko

“Get to the point.”

“I’ve just been… wondering, that’s all.”

“Then I will not dally here further just to have a reunion about the past.” Akashi turns around to leave and walks a few steps before Kuroko calls out to stop him in his tracks

“... I want to ask you about (y/n)-san.” He merely watches Akashi slightly turning his head around before continuing. “What do you think about her?”

“She was Teiko’s head manager. How else did you think my opinion was, Tetsuya? She, just like Daiki, just like everyone else, was an asset to achieving victory. I will not repeat myself again.”

“Akashi-kun, with your Emperor Eye, surely you would’ve noticed something was amiss with (y/n)-san for a while now.” Akashi turns completely around with an impassive gaze

“Broken plates can still function fine. It’s no different with Daiki.” Kuroko grows furious for your sake

“H-How… how can you say that? Do you know how much she’s overworked herself and collapsed throughout these past months for the sake of our team? Did you even know how much of our own 1st-string players were belittling her despite her continuing to give it her all? She cared for our team—she cared for you! She didn’t even want to let you know what was going on behind your back to not burden you any further—and for you to only chalk her up as a tool—”

Akashi is slightly taken back at the sudden info dump/confession from Kuroko, struggling to process the new information… but his face gives little away; Kuroko continues on:

“We’re going to win tomorrow. I swear that Seirin will win against Rakuzan.”

“... It will be intriguing to see you try.” Akashi turns to finally exit out, leaving Kuroko simmering in his thoughts alone (excluding a few janitors) for a few minutes before he exits the stadium himself

in seeing you again the next day, Kuroko immediately notices how antsy you got and even offered to give you the massages to get rid of your own stress knots AND YOU INSTANTLY FEEL WARM BECAUSE YOU TAUGHT HIM YOUR TECHNIQUES SO LONG AGO, AND HE STILL REMEMBERS

you confide in Kuroko as he works out the knots, confessing that you don’t want to be there at the final game but you didn’t want to be selfish and ditch the team, especially since everyone made you feel like you mattered to the team (and you told him about your incident with Akashi yesterday too)

Kuroko shares his own fears and unresolved feelings to you to show that you weren’t alone in feeling uneasy (although he doesn’t share the info that he met up with Akashi)

wholesome friendship moment #753358

the talk made you made up your resolve, and you tell him that you were going to be there at the front bench to support Seirin like you’ve always done, but you do make a request for him to make an excuse for you in case you chicken out and flee mid-game or something

Kuroko agrees and to make you feel better, he proposes for you to focus on him throughout the game so you don’t have to look at Akashi; he knows you still harbor feelings for the Rakuzan captain

while the Seirin starters were warming up, you opted to survey the building interior to find the best route around… just in case if you wanted to flee // you meet Kaijo’s team by coincidence, and Kasamatsu ushers the rest of the team forward to leave you and Kise alone

Kise affectionately ruffles your hair and wishes you and Seirin good luck but also notices how anxious you look; this idiot slaps your back to calm you down LOL

“(y/n)-cchi! What are you so nervous for?”

“Ow! What the hell?”

“O-Ow, ow! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hit that hard—can you please let go?!”

“It’s been a while since I shoulder-locked you, huh…”

“Well, I certainly don’t miss it! You’re so cruel!”

and you only give him an all-knowing look at his “cruel” comment, and Kise panics again at his usual poor word choice… but you merely laugh at his distress

unintentionally, Kise does end up being the one to help you clear up the bundles of nerves… he’s still really worried for you because he definitely can see how you’re still hung up on Akashi

at the same time, when Seirin was watching Rakuzan team members do perfect layups, getting nervous about the game, you were a nervous wreck in your own world at the bench, triple-checking everything and giving massages to Teppei to relieve his knee pain for the time being

throughout the game, Akashi does throw a casual glance at you here and there when no one’s really looking, and meanwhile, you’re incredibly fixated on Kuroko (doing what he told you so you wouldn’t be tempted to look at Akashi)

a lot of your attention was on Furihata anyways because you were focused on massaging particular areas to reduce the physical stress exerted on them during the game

part of Akashi wants to go all out and win this game not only to prove you and Kuroko wrong, but also to impress you, but that’s something his true self feels (who is dormant in his subconscious) rather than his current self… but it’s still there

the moment you broke was when the Akashi you knew and liked finally returned to the court, and you immediately excused yourself to the empty infirmary room to bawl your eyes out and put yourself together; you tell yourself that it’s just another tactic of Akashi and return to the game right when Seirin makes their game point

Oreshi gave 100% in battling against Seirin but occasional glances constantly were shot over to Seirin’s bench to look for you, but you were gone at the last part of the game until at the very end

after the team lineups and trophy distributions, you immediately run outside of the stadium for crisp night air, heaving in as much as you could to try to prevent your body from having any funny ideas of dying on the spot

“... (l/n)-san.”

from his voice, you knew it was Akashi, and you debated on running as fast as you can but the current state of your body didn’t make it a viable option; you opted to stand still quietly, your back still facing him

“(/n)-san,” Akashi softly says again, slowly walking up to you and stopping four meters behind you to give you reasonable space in the confrontation

“... I hate you, you know that? Didn’t I tell you that I didn’t want to see you again after this game?”

“Kuroko disclosed to me what happened.”

“He what?!” In your shock, you whirl around to face Akashi, only to be stunned to see his gentle eyes filled with guilt and worry

“... I want to give you my sincerest apology for everything I’ve done and for what I didn’t do for you. In seeing how the Generation of Miracles had their talents bloomed substantially at a rapid rate, I had believed chasing for absolute victory was the only way to hold us together. Teamwork was nigh impossible given that we had no equal rivals from the outside. Even if that was the only plausible option to take as captain, I still failed Teiko’s other members, including you. To think that I was foolish in letting go what was most important to me.”

he gives a deep bow, further shocking you of your wits

“I…” You pause before you frown. “What did Kuroko even tell you?”

Akashi tells you exactly what Kuroko said and you immediately deny it

“Th-That’s… I only worked hard to get better, so I wouldn’t get left behind. Our old teammates were a testament that I was lacking, and I tried hard to catch up to everyone. I only collapsed due to my own irresponsibility. No matter how much I tried, I could never reach up to everyone’s level, even until now.”

“That’s not the whole truth isn’t it, (l/n)-san?” You widen your eyes at his statement, worried about the insinuation of his words

Oreshi now was not the same Oreshi back in Teiko; he’s now much sharper when it comes to you; he senses that there was something else amiss

“Why didn’t you tell me about what happened back at Teiko? Did you feel that you couldn’t rely on me as a captain?” Akashi sounds hurt… really hurt

you, taken back, immediately were quick to answer:

“N-No! If anything, I… I didn’t want you to look at me in a lesser light if you ever found out that our members started losing faith in me, and I… I wanted to be dependable like everyone else on the team! And if I was reliable, you would be able to depend on me like you used to in the very beginning…”

“(l/n)-san,” Akashi mumbles with upturned brows. “You’ve always been viable to me and the team. Why do you go through such lengths?” Your tears burst forth uncontrollably before you choked out:

“Because I liked you! You were so accomplished and reputable…! I had always th-thought that deep down, i-if I kept improving myself, that you’d notice me in the way I saw you!” Both you and Akashi widened your eyes at what you just said

well shit, maybe now is a good time to run? but before you even had any other ideas, Akashi steps forward to gently clasp your wrist

“... How do you feel about me now?” You obviously hesitate and look down at your clasped wrist, tears still streaky on your face, and at your silence, Akashi continues. “If you truly despise me… I understand. I won’t bother you anymore after tonight… But please believe me (l/n)-san, when I say…”

he moves from your wrist to your hand, taking his other hand to bring up both your hands in a delicate clasp

“... that I’ve always been fond of you, ever since the beginning.”

“You’re lying.”

“I am not, (l/n).” To prove his point, Akashi places a tentative ghost kiss on his hands holding yours, wary in trying not to overstep his boundaries in case you didn’t want your hands to be kissed by him; he leaves his lips there before he murmurs

“... How can I make it up to you?” You feel his soft breath reverberating through your own hands, and it felt so sincere

“Well… for starters, I want to know the Akashi outside of basketball…” He lets go of your hands and gives a small smile

“Then it would be more appropriate to call me Seijurō, don’t you think?”

“Ah… then… you can call me by my first name too.”

“(y/n)... please don’t hesitate to come to me when anything troubles you.”

“I’ll try.”

“And please don’t overwork yourself. It’s not good for you.”

“I’m not making promises.”

“I do hope that in time you’ll come to realize that you’re an extremely talented person… quite a force to be reckoned with too.”

“Was the second half an innuendo of some sorts?”

“You don’t meet someone everyday who wouldn’t hesitate to cuss out the Rakuzan captain while pointing at his face.”

“I…! I’m sorry! I spoke out of—” He puts a finger to your lips with a teasing smile before he grows serious

“I must also apologize for my cruel words…

… I hope that you would find it in yourself to forgive all of my own misdeeds.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble. “Maybe that will happen sooner than later because I do… like you.”

“It’s nice to hear a confirmation from you.”

“Stop acting like you got me figured out, Seijurō!”

“I wouldn’t dare, (y/n).”

bonus: imagine the shock from Seirin and Rakuzan to see you two DATING (when that eventually happens), like Hayama is losing his entire MIND over this it’s SO FUNNY LMAO // Kuroko and Kise are so smug and happy for you two it’s very wholesome

The… end?

UPDATE: sike, by the time you read this, there is a part 4 epilogue

[anthemxix]

whumpay day 2: touch-starved / touch-repulsed

request from @sister-dear: Also touched starved Legend (or anyone, really) getting emotionally overwhelmed when they finally do get some of that touch they need is <3

i feel like this is not exactly what you wanted but i hope you like it nonetheless! <3 <3

Legend kicked the wolfos’ corpse off his Tempered Sword, the slick blade sliding from the monster’s chest with a wet squelch. Panting, he nearly knocked himself off-balance with the motion, but he managed to stay upright as he swiveled around to see a grim Warriors sheathing his own weapon, a second hacked-up wolfos at his feet.

“Took way longer than it should’ve,” Legend remarked. He tried to ignore the dark speckles winking around the edges of his vision as he mopped black blood from his sword.

Warriors pawed through the pouch where he carried his medical supplies. “Shit. I don’t have any more potions. You?”

“No. Why? You hurt?”

The Captain graced him with an incredulous look. “Not for me. For you, idiot.”

“For what, my back?” Legend keyed in to the unsettling sensations of hot blood slithering down bare skin and soaking into the remaining tatters of his tunic. “It’ll be fine ‘til we get back to camp.”

Warriors rolled his eyes. “Just sit down, okay? You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“I’m not gonna pass out. Don’t overreact.”

“Just sit down, Vet,” the Captain ordered as he closed the gap between them, medical dressing in hand.

Legend narrowed his eyes. “No, it’s fine. We’re not that far from camp.”

“Actually, we are, and those cuts are deep. We have to staunch the bleeding.”

“They’re not that bad. I can wait, and then I’ll just drink a potion.”

“Uh, no. They really are that bad. Why are you always so weird about letting us wrap your wounds?” He reached out, and Legend sprang backwards, triggering a surge of light-headedness that he stubbornly discounted.

“I’m fine,” Legend insisted. “I can wait.”

Legend glared, and Warriors glared right back. “Now is not the time for your bullshit. Sit. Down.”

“No. Save your mother cucco-ing for the Sailor.”

Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Warriors muttered, “Din’s sake, Vet. You are exhausting sometimes, you know that?”

Legend prickled and crossed his arms, cupping his hands around his sides in unconscious imitation of a hug. He could feel the blood from his back smear across his fingertips. “So let’s just go back to camp, and then you won’t have to deal with me anymore.”

“We could be done bandaging your stupid cuts at this rate, you know that?”

“And we could be back to camp by now, too.”

“No, we couldn’t!” Warriors groaned, dragging a hand through his hair and disheveling it further. It was strange to see it so carelessly mussed. “You’ve been unreasonably bullheaded over some petty shit before, but this is by far the most imbecilic hill you’ve chosen to die on. Listen, if I was bleeding this much, you wouldn’t hesitate to treat the wounds.”

“Sure I would. You wanna bleed out, that’s your choice. Not my problem.”

The Captain gritted his teeth, patience depleted, and absently rubbed at his pauldron-free shoulder, which was no doubt in pain from when the wolfos had tackled him to the ground. The longer they dallied, the longer it was before either of them could take a potion.

Legend sighed, balling his fists. He knew Warriors was right, anyway; the wolfos’ claws had sunk deep and ripped a decent chunk of his flesh out, and they were at least a thirty-minute walk from camp.

“Okay, fine,” the Vet relented. “Just be quick about it.”

Warriors blinked dumbly, baffled by this abrupt change of heart, as Legend distanced himself from the dead monsters and plopped onto the ground. He instantly tensed when the Captain settled behind him, and he flinched as soon as cloth was firmly pressed to his wounds to stem the bleeding.

Acutely aware that some flimsy layers of fabric comprised the only barrier between his skin and Warriors’ hands, Legend jammed a knuckle into his mouth, biting down lightly to suppress a shudder. He tried to give himself an internal pep talk—you can handle it—but when the Captain’s bare fingertips grazed Legend’s skin, he instinctively pulled away.

“Am I hurting you?” Warriors asked.

“No,” Legend grunted, muffled by the knuckle stuffed between his teeth. “Just hurry up.”

When Warriors resumed, Legend flinched again and cursed himself for it. He expected some snide remark about his jumpiness, but none came.

Strained minutes felt like hours as Legend endured the disquieting scratchiness under his skin, radiating from all the spots Warriors touched. He blinked hot, stinging tears from his eyes, aware of his back muscles coiling tighter and tighter.

When bare skin brushed bare skin again, Legend couldn’t suppress a choked whine, and he bit down harder on his knuckle.

“You need a break?” All frustration and irritation had drained from Warriors’ tone, replaced only with quiet concern.

Legend could only shake his head. He jumped when Warriors reached around him to gently grasp his wrist. “You’re gonna hurt yourself doing that.”

Reluctantly, Legend unclenched his jaw, allowing Warriors to tug his hand away from his teeth. He wouldn’t look at the Captain, but he could sense the worried frown radiating off the older hero.

“I’m almost done,” Warriors informed him softly as he took up his task again.

His touch was warm and gentle, yet it aggravated scars carved into Legend’s spirit long ago, when his uncle died. Year upon lonely year had passed since Legend had felt a tender, caring touch, and it hurt, and it terrified.

Warriors finished and pulled his hands away, leaving in their wake a painful tingle, like the aftermath of an electric shock. Legend sat still as Warriors put away the medical supplies. When the Captain stood, he circled around to Legend’s front and reached out a hand.

Legend’s throat was still raw with unshed tears as he defiantly disregarded the offered help and wobbled to his feet on his own.

Warriors rolled his eyes again, mumbling, “You’re always so damn stubborn.”

Legend opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off as he was suddenly dragged into a hug. His entire body went rigid and his mind, overwhelmed, blanked out.

Swallowing thickly, Legend murmured with as much spite as he could muster, “What the fuck are you doing?”

After a beat, Warriors said, “It’s okay to let people love you, you know.”

Stiffly, cautiously, Legend latched his arms around his friend and closed his eyes, desperately trying to forget that one day, he’d be alone again.

[sw124]

BonelyHearts Reader Insert3

{Female!ReaderXSkeleton household}

Camping! Pt.2

[Recap: You and the entire skeleton household are camping, you an the boys have set everything up and are enjoying warm drinks by the fire. Papyrus is now asking you what you’d like to do now that everything is set up, we pick up from there]

You ponder think for a moment before recalling the pamphlet/map you picked up before you arrived at the campsite. You opened it and scrolled down the list of trails the area had, you passed the pamphlet around.

“Well, I was thinking we each take turns going hiking. I circled some trails that are both for short/long walks and some for hiking. One of them I think we can all enjoy is the ‘Paths of colors’ trail, its about a thirty minute walking path that takes you through the most scenic parts of the local forest where you can gaze at the fall foliage. Another one is the ‘Bridge’ trail where you go walking over bridges around the woods; lastly there’s the ‘Waterfall’ hiking trail where you hike to different waterfalls, creeks, rivers and ponds in the area.”

The skeletons each take turns looking at the trails you mention, each of them having their own opinion on a trail they want to take. Each of them had an opinion on what trail they wanted to go on, Nox, Boss, Blue and Papyrus all wanted to go on the ‘Waterfall’ trail, Poplar, Stretch and Ash wanted to see the ‘Path of Colors’ trail, everyone else opted for the ‘Bridge’ trail......now there was a problem, they all wanted YOU to go on the trails with them.

“Hold your horses boys, we’re staying for like three days we can all do the trails in that time. Besides I have more stuff planned other then just hiking ya know.”

“Like what?” Asked Poplar, sipping his coco.

“Well there’s a lake nearby where you can either go on a paddle boat ride down the rivier or rent canoes, there’s fishing, bird watching, an other relaxing stuff like that.”

You actually liked the idea of renting a canoe and just paddling around the lake or even down the river a little. The idea of being surrounded by the sounds of the forest coupled with the lapping of a oar through the rivers gentle current was just so tempting.

“That sounds like a lot of fun human!” Papyrus beamed, you were sure he was thinking about the canoes too.

“Hey we came to relax, ain’t paddling around just work?” Muttered Red, Rus softly agreed.

You smiled and turned to them. “Don’t worry guys, I already got this. Today a group of us will do the activities that are on the adventurous side, tomorrow another group will do activities that are on the leisure side and last day will be my day of activities; how does that sound?”

The skeletons look at each other, after a slight, awkward pause they all nod in agreement.

“Good then!”

You stood up, walked over to the kitchen canopy where you had previously set your bag, you dug out a small notepad and pen an sat back down.

“Now that we got that settled lets make our groups shall we?”

“You really intend to put us into groups?” Asked Boss.

“I did say there’d be two groups didn’t I?” That little dose of snark earned you a glare, you continued.

“Ok, the Adventure group activities for today are as follows. Hiking the Waterfall trail that will lead us back down to the lake where we can rent canoes and take a hour long ride along the river. When we get back we can have lunch and hike up ‘Grandads bluff’ a trail that takes you to a beautiful overlook of the entire forest. Then when we get back and if we have energy left we can do some fishing, catch and release only. That is on today’s agenda, now who would like to do this today?”

You started writing down names, Papyrus, Blue, Boss, Nox, and Poplar...though you were a bit worried about Poplar going on a long hike and you weren’t alone, Ash’s mouth was twitching, to the point he was biting the bottom half of his mouth.

You spoke up for him. “Poplar are you sure you can handle the hike, it’ll be a pretty long one.”

Poplar smiled. “Do not be worried for my sake, I’ll have plenty of friends with me in case something happens. I’m in wonderful hands!”

That smile of his should be outlawed, you couldn’t deny him now..that and he had a point he wasn’t going alone. You gave Ash a gentle nod, he reciprocated it by sharing a uneasy smile. You’d talk to him later and see if there was anything you could do to help ease his worries.

—————————————————————-

[Adventure start!]

The name may have been a little uninspired but then again you couldn’t help but feel it did the trail some justice. The six of you first passed by a small stream that carried some of the fallen leaves down the way. It started to widen to more of a creek though, you stopped and pointed out to Blue some of the cute little turtles sitting on the banks. The creek soon widened into more of a proper river.

You hiked up some steeper hills, that was a bit of a chore but those steeper hills also had smaller waterfalls around, they didn’t churn up white clouds of mists like larger ones did but they were just as pretty. The six of you had paused a moment to just listen to the river, it was whispering its soothing timeless lullaby.

Of course the whisper of the river began became silent, overshadowed by the thunder of the waterfall up ahead of you and your group. Cresting over the last hill you had arrived at the waterfall in question, it wasn’t a very tall waterfall. Not in the slightest, at best it was about as tall as a one story building but it was wide and it was beautiful. You read in the pamphlet that in the summer it was very popular swimming spot, it was a safe area to swim and there’s a tradition that the boys in the local scouts who complete/pass their swimming course would jump from the tallest part of the falls into the pool below as a rite of passage.

“My goodness...it’s absolutely marvelous!” Said Poplar, shielding his glasses from the mist coming from the waterfall.

“I was expecting something more grand but this is still nice.” Said Boss.

Nox simply nodded while Blue and Papyrus stared in silent wonder at the majesty before them. You stayed quiet, closing your eyes you just let the sounds envelop you. Lost in your thoughts...you imagined sitting on a porch as a thundershower runs its course. The mist of the rain against your face, the sounds of the thunder rolling through the sky....your thoughts were broken when a hand gently touched your shoulder.

“Hey you ok?” Asked Blue, you blinked and turned to him.

“Sorry, just got lost in my thoughts there...its just so pretty here.”

Papyrus hummed approvingly “Indeed human, this place is quite nice. You have great taste in destinations!”

After enjoying the falls for a bit and taking a few pictures the six of you hiked back down. You made sure to stick close to Poplar and help him down the steep hills, Papyrus helped out too. You and the boys took a different trail back that took you alongside the lake, as you walked you watched ducks, geese and a few sand cranes land fly by or land on top of the water or wade through the shallows.

The trail lead all the way back to the camp grounds but you and the boys bee-lined for the canoe rental hut, renting three canoe’s for at least an an hour an thirty minutes. You asked for an extra thirty minutes in case something happened......like the boys starting to fight or argue about things. Now came the hard part..who goes with who.

“How’s this going to work?” Blue asked looking at the canoe’s, he was thinking the same thing.

“Well obviously we choose a partner that won’t slow you down. I personally I’m thankful the others aren’t here, knowing Stretch or Sans they’d try an tip us over or something.” Said Nox as he inspected the oar’s.

You sighed and spoke up. “Look, I’ll set up the partners ok? I don’t wanna dilly dally and sit here arguing the entire time.”

There was some disgruntled jabs mostly from Nox...and a little from Blue but you were adamant, Boss, Poplar and Papyurs didn’t mind, he liked that you at least put thought in to your choices.

“Ok, Boss your partner is Papyrus, Nox your partners with Blue and lastly is Poplar and I, everyone got that?”

Everyone shared a look but gave you a firm nod, you smiled at them. At least they were not arguing about the arrangement. You took the front of the canoe you shared with Poplar, thankfully the river had small signs placed around for canoe and kayakers to follow so they didn’t get lost. Oh this truly was a treat, it really was. The slow pace down the river was the perfect way to wind down after a long hike, you tilted your head to one side to listen to the native birds. You could hear all kinds, chickadees, woodpeckers, finches, cardinals and morning doves to name a few.

You...felt tempted to splash Nox and Blue with your oar but decided not to. Last time you got Blue an Nox with a prank....well....you’d rather not think about it. You turned to check on Poplar a few times, he never noticed; he was just too absorbed in everything. Papyrus and Boss seemed to be getting along...well Boss seemed to be tolerating more then getting along. After coming around the last bend of the river you were right back at the lake, from where you were you could see all the campsites including yours. You actually got excited seeing the others walking around, you didn’t know why you just did.

Your excitement ebbed away when you heard your own stomach growling, yeah it was getting close to lunchtime. You returned the canoes and got your deposit back before returning.

“Hey, we’re back everyone!” You waved, as you expected they all were still in their chairs enjoying the fire.

“Welcome back, you guys have fun?” Asked Stretch.

“It was a blast! I can’t believe you guys ducked out of it, the waterfall was just beautiful!” Said Blue putting his hands on his hips, chest puffed out.

“It was an enjoyable experience, only made better with the fact that we were not disturbed by anyone’s nonsense.” Nox eyed the group that stayed behind.

You chuckle. “Alright guys, once we have lunch we’ll have one more hike an thats ‘Granddads bluff’. By the time we get back it’ll be time for dinner and-“

“Ohh....sorry to break it to you but that trail just got closed off, apparently a group of teens last night were setting off fireworks in there and somehow messed up the trail.” Russ didn’t make eye contact with you when he said that.

“What?! No way....”

Well that was a kick in the gut, that particular trail was suppose to be the grand jewel of the whole adventure day. Sans came up and patted your arm.

“Don’t be so down, besides if you guys went now there’d be no time to make dinner.”

You cocked your eyebrow at him, he took out his phone and showed you..it was already four in the afternoon!

Goodness it was almost time for dinner!

To be continued...

[Camping is huge in my family, mostly to my parents. They don’t do tent camping they do RV camping but I’ve gone with them and we did these kinds of things. So camping does have a special place in my heart, especially during autumn. This is dedicated to @bonelyheartsclub I hope you enjoy the next installment....is a surprise]

[samanthadalton]

The Bodyguard (AU) PART 1

pairings: Poppy x Bea

Wanted to write a fic based on this post, thank you @alexlabhont for showing us that tik tok. Going to be a series so i don’t know how many parts. Also this is a slow burn and I’ll add more context as the story progresses so it makes sense (i may steal some names of counties from PB 😅👀)

warnings: mentions of blood, violence and death in this chapter

taglist: @cloud9in @somewillwin @alleycat97 @baexpoppy @save-me-the-last-dance @helpconfusedpersonhere @dopeyouth @alexlabhont @thedaft1 @veenast @cloakanddaggerthings (added people from my usual poppy taglist if you wanna be added or taken off just let me know ☺️☺️)

word count: 5.1k (wasn’t expecting it to be this long)

also i was using my phone to copy and paste from google docs so i apologise if the layout of the fic is weird, it kept cutting off sentences and paragraphs so hopefully they’re actually here and the story makes sense 😅😅

2 weeks earlier

Poppy stands, paralysed with fear, as she watches her assailant point the gun at her. The tears threaten to free fall as her eyes move towards her father’s dying body, blood sprouting from his mouth. He clutches at his chest, his hands and chest painted red as his breaths come out short and harrowing. Poppy balls her hands up into fists, her lip slightly trembling as she watches the aggressor yell, her mind too overwhelmed to articulate the words coming out of his mouth. She watches the evil glint in his eyes as he watches the life drain of her father’s body; how his lips twist into a viscous scowl as he screams at her, the gun in his hand wildly flying around. A deafening gunshot pulls Poppy out of her reverie, her hands moving to grab her body, looking for the wound, but when she hears the assailant’s body hit the floor, seeing the blood oozing out of his mouth, she turns back to see the royal guards pouring into the room. A sigh of relief comes out of her, before realisation hits her and she slides her body over to her father, her hands uselessly hovering over him and the dam of tears break through.

Present

Poppy gasps heavily, her sleep immediately breaking as her body jerks upwards. She brings her hand up to wipe the slick cold sweat that breaks out on her forehead, steadying her excessive pants. Another night where her sleep is broken by the same nightmare, she shudders at the thought of the man who killed her father invading her thoughts, recollecting the way he broke into a malicious grin as she lamented for her father’s life. She lets out a shaky breath as her hands subconsciously grip the blanket, her brain going haywire as she squeezes her eyes shut.

“It’s just a dream,” she whispers to herself, “it’s just a dream.”

Unsure of how much time has passed, she sharply inhales, opening one of her eyes to glance at the window, the sunlight barely peeking through the curtains as she groans throwing her head back onto her pillow, a groan escaping her lips. Just as she feels the sleep about to consume her, her bedroom door flies open, immediately alerting her.

“Why are you still in bed?” Her mother raises an eyebrow, her tone stern, yet lacking any emotion.

Poppy sighs rubbing at the temples of her forehead, agitated “I was hoping to have a few more minutes to myself.”

Her mother dismissively waves her hand at her, “get up. We have business to deal with.” She turns and walks out of the room, leaving Poppy on her own.

After a while Poppy makes her way to the Great Hall, her lady in waiting greets her with a warm smile, “good morning your Royal Highness,” she slightly tilts her head as she bows, her brows slightly creased with worry as she gazes at the eyebags under Poppy’s eyes.

“Goodmorning Taylor,” Poppy scans the room, “where is my mother?”

“Her Majesty requested that you have breakfast in the garden today.”

Poppy hums, “she hasn’t been in the garden since father passed.” Taylor gives Poppy a sorrowful smile, struggling to respond to Poppy’s blunt admission. Poppy waves her hand, “I’ll meet her now.” She walks through the palace until she reaches the garden, she closes her eyes, feeling at peace for a few fleeting moments until it’s broken by her mother’s voice, calling out to her.

“Poppy quit dilly dallying, take a seat we have much to discuss.”

Poppy obediently follows her mother’s orders, carefully sliding into her seat, keeping her posture upright as one of the servants pours her out some tea while she glances expectedly at her mother, “so why all the urgency today?”

“There’s going to be some changes at the castle.”

Poppy raises an eyebrow, “oh? Do tell.”

“There will be an increase in security, we won’t have a breach like last time.” As Poppy gazes at her mother, she sees her face fall for a few moments, grief swimming in her eyes before she quickly masks it, her usual stoic demeanour taking over, making Poppy question whether she actually saw her mother show some emotion. “The Royal Guard are putting in some more extreme measures to ensure our safety here. Speaking of which, I have someone I would like to introduce you to.” She lifts her hands, beckoning someone and when the figure comes into appearance, Poppy can’t help but stare a little.

The woman is young, she looks slightly rough around the edges, but still quite beautiful. Poppy’s gaze darts down to her arms, they’re heavily toned, meaning she’s very strong. She assesses her uniform, her suit looking more polished than her usual guards, and when their eyes meet, her gaze pierces into Poppy’s, momentarily taking her breath away at the sheer intensity.

“This is your new bodyguard.”

Poppy’s face twists into a scowl, “a bodyguard? What am I twelve?” Her eyes dart back to the woman’s, anger boiling inside of her, “and she’s a woman.”

“With all due respect Miss Min Sinclair,” the woman speaks up, her voice smooth as velvet and her tone welcoming, a stark contrast to Poppy’s hostile demeanor. “I’ve had a lot of training. I graduated top of my class and I’m more than qualified to look after you.”

“Look after me? What are you, my babysitter?”

“Poppy!” Her mother calls out, admonishingly, “I apologise for my daughter’s enmity, she’s yet to learn the poise of a princess.”

The woman bows her head, “no need to apologize your Majesty. I understand the situation is overwhelming.”

Her Majesty speaks out, “as for Miss Hughes being a woman,” Poppy feels her heart beating in her chest a little faster, Hughes, it rolls off the tongue easily, “she will be able to guard you at all times, even in situations where you may be compromised. I think it’s only fitting that your bodyguard can keep a close eye on you.”

Poppy opens her mouth to retort but the bodyguard beats her to the punch, “Your Highness if I may?” Poppy gives her a small nod indicating her to continue, “I’m not here to intrude on your life, I’m here to ensure your safety. These people are ruthless, I know you’ve seen first hand what they are capable of. I’m here to make sure you don’t share the same fate as your father.” As she speaks, her voice is steady, strong, lacking in compassion but filled with promise. Poppy watches her with a careful gaze, unsure of what to make of her new companion.

“I don’t have a choice, consequences of being the royal heir I guess.”

Poppy stands and turns her back to walk into the palace but her mother calls out to her, “darling do me a favor and show Miss Hughes her chambers.”

“Am I her maid now?” Poppy retorts through gritted teeth.

“Seeing as she’ll be taking up accommodation in the room adjacent to yours, it's only fitting you show her where to stay. I’m sure she needs to do some preliminary security sweeps.” Her Majesty gives Poppy an authoritarian glare and Poppy sighs before walking off, her bodyguard trailing after her.

Poppy leads her bodyguard into her room, gesturing to the room, “well this is your room, but that’s already obvious. I’ll have one of the maids make up your bed for you.” She turns to the woman, assessing her, “so, do you have a name or do I call you Hughes?”

“Bea. But if you feel comfortable calling me Hughes, I won’t stop you.”

“I’ll feel more comfortable if my mother stopped treating me like a child and keeping me at bay from the rest of the world.”

“Well that’s why I’m here. So you can resume your usual activities but having someone watch over you while you do.” Bea walks out of the room, and goes into Poppy’s room, her eyes darting all over the room, as she begins sweeping the room.

“Excuse you? What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Poppy says, her voice filled with agitation.

“A security sweep. I have to make sure your room isn’t compromised.” Bea continues looking through her room, as she begins opening and closing drawers, her slender fingers feeling around the outside and inside making sure there is nothing suspicious.

“Well unless you’re secretly a pervert, there’s nothing there except my underwear.” Poppy rushes to close the drawer, a blush creeping up on her cheeks. Bea’s eyebrows shoot up but she steps away, her expression blank as she does. “Well. My friends are coming over, try not to get in the way.”

Poppy begins lumbering toward one of her living rooms, and squeals as two girls begin running up to her. Bea protectively stands in front of Poppy, signalling to the girls to stop. Poppy rolls her eyes, pushing Bea slightly to the side, “at ease soldier, they’re not going to kill me.”

“Can’t be too careful.”

Poppy responds with a scowl before turning to her friends, her scowl immediately diminishing. “Ladies, it’s been a while.”

A girl with ombre coloured hair wraps Poppy into a right hug, a solemn expression on her face, “I’m so sorry Poppy, I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you.”

Poppy’s lip quivers for a few seconds before she bites down on it, slightly sniffling, “thanks Veronica.” Bea watches the interaction with careful eyes, observing the fall in Poppy’s expression as she pulls apart from the hug before being tackled into another one by a blonde girl. “Jesus Chloe, maybe my bodyguard should step in.” Bea steps forward, but Poppy smirks, “chill Hughes, I was kidding.”

“Right.” Bea’s expression remains serious as she watches the girls, but Poppy expectantly glares at her.

“Can we get some privacy?”

Bea nods, walking to the corner of the room, her eyes not leaving Poppy as she crosses her arms, standing guard. Veronica gazes at Bea, her eyes filled with admiration as her roams Bea. “She’s hot.”

Poppy scoffs, “don’t tell me your standards have dropped so low,” Poppy reprimands, taking a seat on one of the chairs.

“Not all of us are surrounded by gorgeous princes and aristocrats,” Veronica teases, “let me thirst in peace.”

“But she’s a bodyguard,” Chloe adds, a tinge of disgust in her tone.

“Classist much Chlo?” Veronica huffs, as her eyes return to gawking at Bea. Poppy sighs, but indulges in polite conversation until her obligations as a princess arise and she says goodbye to her friends before indulging in her chores.

Over the next few weeks, Poppy is still hostile towards Bea, still not fully comfortable with the idea of having a bodyguard. Tensions around the palace are at an all time high, as the number of guards have increased and are always at alert.

“Good morning your Highness.”

Poppy gasps, clutching at her chest, “jesus!” When she glances at Bea she swears she can see a hint of a smile of her face but it’s gone just as quick.

“Your mother is asking for you.”

“Of course she is. Well we shouldn’t let her Majesty wait.” Poppy climbs out of bed, her body still slightly sleep deprived as she stumbles towards the bathroom, Bea watches her with a frown before following her. “Excuse me? Haven’t you ever heard of privacy?”

“How long have you been struggling to sleep for?” Bea’s tone is monotone but her facial expression is worrisome.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Bea sighs, letting her usual icy demeanour drop slightly, “do you remember the old head of security, Marc?”

Poppy nods, “he was always so nice to me.”

“That was my father.” Poppy’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Yeah.” Bea gives Poppy a half smile, “before I took this job, I kinda resented my father, I used to think, how does a man who talks a big deal about the importance of family barely be in our lives? What job was so important that he could barely be at home with us? But I understand it now. I know I haven’t been working at this post long, but I get it.” Bea’s eyes pierce intensely into Poppy’s, forcing the strawberry blonde to let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. “My job is to protect you, Miss Min Sinclair, I won’t let anything get in the way of that.”

Poppy’s eyes search Bea’s looking for… something she can’t quite put her finger on, “that’s…. reassuring. Thank you Hughes. And you can call me Poppy, if you’re supposed to be always around me, we can drop the formalities.”

Bea gives Poppy a nod of appreciation, “of course, Poppy.” She gives her a small smile, “well I should let you shower.” Bea turns to leave but Poppy calls out to her.

“Hughes.” Bea stops in her tracks, turning to face her, “why did you take this job?”

Bea looks off into the distance, a pensive look on her face, “curiosity. I wanted to follow my father’s footsteps in terms of training but when your mother offered me the job, I felt compelled to say yes. Just to see how demanding it would be and now I see my father in a whole new light.” Poppy gives Bea a sad smile, “I can’t imagine what it feels like watching your father die in front of you, but give yourself time to grieve. Don’t be like your mom and lock away your feelings, because it will eat you up until it’s too late.” Bea pointedly glances away, training her gaze to the ground, “I’ll wait in the hallway, you should hurry, your mother was adamant about you meeting her as soon as possible.” Before Poppy can thank Bea, she’s already out of the bathroom. Once Poppy has finished getting ready, Bea greets her with a small nod, and Poppy can already feel the shift in their relationship, as she begins to feel more at ease with Bea being around her.

Once they enter the Great Hall, Poppy takes a seat at the table, and her mother greets her with a frown. “I thought that when I urged the significance of this meeting you would come faster.”

Before Poppy can reply, Bea intercepts, “that was my fault Your Majesty, I was going over the security guidelines for the dress store.”

Poppy’s mother turns to face Bea, a glimmer of humor in her eyes, “thank you Miss Hughes, and I told you call me Ana, you’re practically family.” Bea bows her head in gratification, as Ana gestures towards one of the chairs, “why don’t you take a seat and eat some breakfast and I won’t take no for an answer.”

Bea smiles and takes a seat opposite Poppy, before reaching out for some croissants, placing them on her plate before pouring herself some tea, not letting one of the house servants do it. “Thank you.. Ana.”

“Of course, also I’m giving you the day off for the gala next week.”

Bea furrows her brows in confusion, her eyes shooting to look at Poppy, “what about..” she clears her throat as her eyes meet Poppy’s, “security?”

Ana dismissively waves her hand, “I’ve hired the best security and I’ve personally gone over the plans with the Head of security, we’re safe. Bea hesitantly nods, as she pointedly glances away, looking down at her plate.

“Thank you.”

“As for you my dear,” Ana turns to Poppy, her expression emotionless, “this will be our first public appearance since,” she cuts herself off, “it’s imperative we make our guests feel at ease, so make sure you do your rounds and introduce yourself to all of our allies.”

“Yes mother,” Poppy says obediently. “May I be excused, I have an appointment at the dress store.”

“If you must, we will continue this conversation later. Also tell Miss Lombardi that the dress I received was beautiful.”

“Of course Your Majesty.”

Once Poppy reaches the dress store, Bea protectively goes in first and begins looking at the store, earning a confused glance from the owner. “Bodyguard.” Poppy retorts, earning a nod of understanding from the woman. Bea gives Poppy a nod of satisfaction earning an eye roll from the strawberry blonde who makes her way into the back of the store to greet her friends, Veronica and Chloe who look like they’ve been waiting a while based on how comfortably they’re sitting on the couch. Bea does a quick security sweep on the insides of the dressing rooms as the girls indulge in some small talk. Once she’s done, she gives Poppy a satisfied nod.

Veronica says as she pushes herself off the couch to stand, Chloe follows suit a few seconds later. “My mom left your dress in the dressing room.” Poppy smiles and makes her way inside while Bea stands in the corner of the room, patiently waiting as Poppy tries on her dress. The woman from earlier enters, holding some measuring tape and a box of needles, pins and thread in one hand while a few dresses are draped across the other, just as Poppy exits the room, wearing her dress. Bea casts a glance, unable to tear her eyes away from the strawberry blonde.

“Your Highness.” The woman says as she bows, earning a small but unnoticeable eye roll from Veronica. “If you just stand up on this, I can make the final adjustments. Veronica sweetie, take these dresses and you girls try it on while I do the final measurements for Miss Min Sinclair. Veronica grabs the dresses beckoning Chloe to follow her into the dressing room, Poppy stands on the platform, staring at herself in the mirror but she catches Bea’s eyes on her through the mirror, tilting her head with curiosity glistening in her eyes.

“Hughes, what do you think?”

Bea breaks her stoic demeanour as she gives Poppy a panicked look, breaking eye contact, “I don’t think it would be appropriate.”

Poppy sighs, “no need to be such a prude, I’m only asking for your opinion.”

Bea clears her throat, “you look..beautiful.”

Poppy breaks out into a wide grin, her eyes roaming herself, “hmm I do. You did an amazing job Ms Lombardi.”

“Thank you so much Your Highness.” Veronica’s mother replies, a smile on her face.

Veronica’s voice rings out, “I need some help zipping up.”

Veronica’s mother turns back to look at Bea, “if you won’t mind dear, I have my hands full.” She makes a show of displaying the needles and pins in her hands and Bea gives a polite nod before making her way to the dressing room.

“Someone needs help with a zip?”

“Yes.” Veronica opens the door of her dressing room, a small smile on her lips, “hi.” She turns, presenting her back as Bea steps forward to zip her up, placing her hand on the small of Veronica’s back as she begins pulling up the zip. “Poppy told me you’re not working the gala.”

“Yes I’ve gotten the day off,” Bea responds, her tone flat.

“Well do you have any plans for the day?”

“Considering I just found out I have the day off I haven’t made any sudden plans.” Bea steps back, finished with pulling up the zip and Veronica runs her hands down the sides of her dress before turning to face Bea.

“Thank you.” Bea gives Veronica a polite smile, “Be my date to the gala.”

Bea lets out a small laugh, “well aren’t you blunt?” She responds, a hint of a smile of her face.

“Well I didn’t grow up with everything being handed to me, so bluntness is kinda my thing. So will you?” She stares at Bea expectedly.

Bea sighs, slightly scrunching her lips, “I don’t think that would be appropriate. You’re one of Poppy’s closest friends and it wouldn’t be professional of me.”

Veronica raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, “so? Screw unprofessionalism. People like you and me are like at the bottom of the food chain. I love Poppy but at the end of the day, she’s still royalty and will always look down on people like me or my mom. So if you wanna enjoy a party, do it! Don’t let them dictate you like that.”

“Are you done?” Bea replies with a smile. All the while, Poppy steps into the dressing room but steps out of view, watching the interaction, only seeing Bea from the angle she’s standing at, but she feels a small pang in her chest as she watches Bea smile at Veronica, wondering why she’s never seen Bea smile like that at her. “If I say yes will you stop ranting?”

“Maybe,” Veronica retorts, suppressing a smile by pressing her lips together in a thin line.

Bea nods, “okay, I’ll be your date.” Veronica cheers, pulling Bea into a small hug before planting a kiss on her cheek. Bea slightly blushes before pulling away, her icy demeanour returning, “I should get back.”

“Oh of course. To be continued?”

“Yes.” Bea places a chaste kiss on Veronica’s cheek before walking out of the dressing room. Poppy panics as she sees Bea about to turn in her direction and runs back out to the room, pretending as if nothing has happened.

The rest of the day goes by and it’s as if the heart to heart between Poppy and Bea in the morning hasn’t happened as Poppy’s hostile personality returns and she begins pushing Bea away again, infuriating the bodyguard as the strawberry blonde makes her job harder.

….

The day of the gala arrives and Poppy is like a spawn of satan, rushing the servants around, screaming her head off as she barks orders at them. “Your queen has insisted that tonight goes perfectly, do not disappoint otherwise it will be all of our heads on a spike.” She glances around, fixing the decor, or making someone else fix it for her, before getting ready, slipping into her dress. She places a crown on her head, the jewels sparkling under the chandelier lights, as Poppy smooths down her dress, appraising herself in the mirror.

“Guess who?” A pair of hands cover her eyes, as the voice speaks low and playfully into her ear.

Poppy squeals, pulling the hands away from her eyes before turning, “Bradley! You came.” She greets him with a long kiss, before pulling away, wiping her forefinger across his lips, “sorry gif some lipstick on you.”

“That’s okay,” he laughs, as he pulls on the hem of his suit jacket, straightening it. “Shall we?” He holds out his arm as Poppy wraps hers around it, smiling up at him, “you look gorgeous by the way.”

“Thank you, you look dashing.” The couple make their way to the ballroom where the party is already in full swing, “we just need to make some quick introductions.” Poppy gazes around the room, noticing the increase in royal guards standing at their posts, and feels a tinge of satisfaction, no ones dying today, she thinks to herself as her and Bradley, introduce and mingle with the important people.

Simultaneously, Bea opens the door of the limo, before taking out her hand which Veronica gratefully slides her hand into as Bea pulls her out of the car. “You look radiant by the way.”

Veronica blushes, “thank you, and you clean up spectacularly well.”

“Thank you,” Bea says as she runs her hands across her dress. “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

When they enter the ballroom, Veronica offers to grab some drinks as Bea stands, scanning the room looking for anything suspicious. As she does she catches Poppy with her arm wrapped around an unfamiliar man, a wide smile on her face.

“Come in you’re off duty.”

“Sorry,” Bea replies, flushing with embarrassment, “habit.”

“That’s okay,” Veronica hands over one of the glasses to Bea, before taking a careful sip of her drink.

“Who is that with Poppy, I don’t think I’ve been debriefed on him yet.”

Veronica scans the room until her eyes fall on Poppy, “that’s her boyfriend Bradley.”

Bea raises her eyebrows in confusion, “boyfriend? I wasn’t told about this.”

“Well that’s probably because he hasn’t been here for the last few months. He was off building homes in a poor country or something.”

“Huh that’s charitable of him,” Bea replies flatly.

Veronica drains the contents of her glass before intertwining her fingers with Bea’s, “enough about them let’s dance.” Veronica pulls Bea onto the dance floor, and begins grinding on her, while Bea awkwardly stands, unable to apprehend what Veronica is doing. They’re interrupted by a familiar voice.

“So you two are here together?” Poppy’s eyes dart between Bea and Veronica, her tone nonchalant.

“Yes we are,” Veronica wraps her arms around Bea’s neck, pulling her closer. Poppy gives Veronica a weird look. Sensing the tension, Bea slightly pulls out of Veronica’s grasp turning to look at Bradley.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she holds out a hand which Bradley shakes, his expression warm and inviting.

“Bradley, and you are?”

“My bodyguard,” Poppy interrupts, her tone slightly mocking.

“Bea Hughes.” Bea brings her hand back to her side, a smile on her face, “it was nice meeting you.”

“Same to you,” Bradley gives the girls a small nod before pulling Poppy away, whispering into her ear, “I think we should get out of here, there’s something I wanted to show you.”

“How? This place is heavily guarded.”

“Follow me.” Bradley takes her hand as they slip away from the party, unsuspectingly.

Bea looks over at Veronica, a frown on her face, “is everything okay?”

“Yep. Did you hear the judgement in Poppy’s voice? God she can be so infuriating sometimes. I need a drink.” Veronica storms off, leaving Bea in the middle of the dance floor. Her eyes begin scanning the room and she feels alarmed when she notices Poppy not in the room anymore. She begins looking all around the room before Veronica joins her, confused. “Is everything okay?”

“Where’s Poppy?”

Veronica surveys the room, huffing, “she’s probably gone to hook up with Bradley.”

Bea frowns, “something doesn’t feel right, I’m going to go look for them, stay here.” Before Veronica can respond Bea is already gone, making her way through the crowd as she slips out. Bea begins looking around the palace until she sees the end of Poppy’s dress just as she goes into a room, hesitantly Bea follows. Just as she reaches the room, she twists the handle, opening the door and goes into a defensive stance as Bradley swings around, pulling Poppy against him, holding a knife to her throat.

“Hughes,” Poppy whimpers as Bradley harshly shushes her.

“Let’s all just calm down here,” Bea raises her hands, her voice low and soft, “let’s not do anything abrupt.”

“Let us leave and nothing will have to happen.”

“I can’t let you do that,” Bea takes a step closer promoting Bradley to push the knife against Poppy’s neck, making a small cut.

“Can’t do that I’m afraid,” the previous warm glint that shone in Bradley’s eyes are gone, replaced with a more hysterical one, insanity glimmering beneath the surface. “This is for the Sons of Veronica.” Just before he can do anything, Bea leaps forward pulling Poppy out of his grasp, stepping in front of her, just as Bradley’s knife wildly swings, slicing her, just under her chest. Bea groans slightly before grabbing his wrist, pulling it backwards, evoking a scream from Bradley as she snaps his wrist.

“Poppy run!” Poppy hyperventalies as she reaches the door but when she throws it open, she gasps.

“Hughes.”

Bea turns to see a wide, built man, standing in the doorway, anger written in his face. She throws Bradley to the side before, pushing Poppy away, throwing a series of precise punches at the man. Unfazed, he grabs Bea by the throat, throwing her against the wall, his grip tightening. Bea gasps as she clutches at her throat, feeling the air leave her lungs as she tries to muster up the strength to claw and punch her way out. Instead she feels dizzy, her eyes slowly closing as she feels herself losing consciousness. Out of nowhere, Poppy smashes a vase over the man’s head, causing him to loosen his grip around Bea’s throat. He angrily huffs, backhanding Poppy, as she hits her head against the corner of a desk. Bea calls out of her, anger filling up her entire body as she lets out a primal battle cry and swipes her leg under the man’s, resulting in him losing his balance. She then flips his body around, pressing the front of him to ground as her knee digs into his neck. A few moments later his body goes limp and Bea moves away, running towards Poppy who lays on the ground unmoving.

“Poppy!” She calls out, worried but she sighs breath of relief when she sees Poppy’s eyelids fluttering open. “Are you okay?”

Poppy nods clutching at her head, “my head hurts,” Bea reaches out, placing her fingers on a small cut that has formed on Poppy’s head.

“You’re okay.” A series of groans snaps her out as she looks up to see Bradley trembling as he holds out a knife, his hand violently shaking. Bea stands, kicking him square in the chest, causing him to crash into some cupboards, knocking him out. Bea pulls out her phone, calling the guards to put the palace on lockdown in case there are any more surprises.

After being checked by a medical professional, Ana rushes pulling Poppy into a huge hug, tears falling down her face, “thank god you’re okay. I don’t think I could handle losing your father and you.” She gratefully kisses the crown of Poppy’s head before turning to look at Bea, a grateful smile on her face. “And you Miss Hughes,” she pulls away from Poppy, pulling Bea into a hug, “if it wasn’t for you I-“ she begins sobbing as Bea rubs comforting circles on her back.

“Just doing my job.”

“Thank you,” Ana says, as she holds both of Bea’s hands in hers, “even when you weren’t on duty you saved my daughter’s life, thank you.” Bea nods as Ana pulls her in for another hug. Poppy watches as the police put Bradley and the other man into handcuffs, a frown on her face.

She turns to her mother, “what is Sons of Victoria?”

Ana stammers, “where did you hear that?” She gazes around the room, her expression careful.

Bradley mentioned it before he attacked us, what are you not telling me?”

Ana awkwardly glances around the room before lowering her voice to a whisper, “we have a lot to discuss.”