#while the goal for now is being able to go outside once a day

[feathers-little-nest]

every little part of me screams I DON'T WANT TO DO and I have to manually force myself to breathe. it is that kind of day. again.

[heartmix]

Messed Up - Joe Burrow

Pairing: Joe Burrow x fem!reader

Word Count: 3k+

Warning: swearing, mentions of s*x, joe's an ass in the beginning and also dumb, driving while on the phone (focus on driving!) angst but fluffy ending

A/N: cleaned out all my wip and deleted around 50 so i could motivate myself to write more. found this gem while i was cleaning

Masterlist / NFL Masterlist

He didn't mean to make you feel like shit. Really. You were the most understand person in the world especially when it came to his job. If he told you that practice was shit and that the winning drought was getting to him then you would've understood, but he just had to say,

"You're a distraction, you need to stop being all over me I can't focus on work."

That one sentence sent everything into a spiral. He regretted it the moment he said it, apologizing as soon as the last word came out but it was too late. The sad eyes mixed with the anger radiating from your body was evident.

"Hope you can focus for Tennessee." Was all you said before grabbing your phone and rushing to the guest bedroom before joe could get you from not locking the door.

Tennessee being venom on yours lips was a reminder that he had an early flight in the morning for this weekend's game. Of course he had to go and say some stupid shit knowing he wouldn't be able to see you till Monday.

His sleep was absolutely shit. He fell asleep outside the guest bedroom hoping in the middle of the night you'd crawl back in bed or open the door and take pity on him, but you didn't. You slept the whole morning. Even when he had to leave. He screwed up. The texts and voice memos he sent you piled in like a train that morning. In every way he could say sorry he wrote and said. He even made sure flowers and breakfast was on your doorstep before he boarded the plane.

You weren't completely heartless, you knew he regretted what he said, but that didn't change the fact that he said it and looked like in that moment he meant it. Not wanting him to have an even more terrible practice and even worst game you caved into the texts, sending a picture of the flowers with a

'Thank you, it's beautiful. Have fun in Tennessee'

Joe felt a wave of relief seeing your text come in. He knew it wouldn't make up for everything, but at least you weren't ignoring him. He was going to take as much as he could get until he saw you on Monday.

Over the next two days the texts were dry on your end. Just simple replies to his texts and pictures here and there of your day (when he asked). Those two days he was thinking of ways to make it up to you. All of his troubles washed away seeing your Instagram stories before the game. No matter how mad you were you still supported him (even if that wasn't your team).

Bengals got a win off the titans, a close game that was decided by a last second field goal. He was grateful for the strong wind and his kickers experience with wind over Tennessees'. He played a hell of a game, scoring 2 passing touchdowns. Seeing your celebratory stories made him feel even better. He thought everything was going to be okay once he got home.

Sure you loved supporting him every chance you got, but that wasn't the entire reason you posted about the bengals win. It would be suspicious if you didn't. Texts from friends who knew you all to well would roll in with

'you and Joe okay?'

'Joe piss you off?'

'Tired of the bengals?'

You didn't want that. You couldn't handle that right now. You got your anger out of the way and all that was left was irritation. Irritation with what Joe had the audacity to say that to you and Irritation that he couldn't just tell you he wasn't in the mood. He made you feel like a slut and that was the last thing you wanted to feel in a relationship with one of the biggest quarterbacks of this generation.

Monday morning rolled around and Joe couldn't be happier to be home. He couldn't wait to tell you all about the win and hear your praises. He loved hearing your insight after game day, especially over a game he knew he played great in.

When he walked in the house he expected the usual greeting and excitement from you. But it was silent. You didn't work today and even if you did you worked from home most days so you'd take a short break to great him. The whole house was quiet, not even music blasting from the speakers. The more he traveled in the house he finally found you in the walk in closest with your earphones in. You knew he was home evident to the notifications your got from the doorbell camera, you just didn't care to meet him at the door to greet him.

"Hey mamas." You felt his hands snake around your waist as he buried his head in your neck.

"Hey. Great game. The plane ride okay?" You asked pausing the current song so you can show some decadency in paying attention to him as much as you didn't want to.

"Yeah. The win made it easier to fall asleep for a bit." He mumbled in your neck. The reminder that he won hit you right in the chest. Maybe he did win because you weren't a distraction this weekend.

"I bet, at least you got some rest."

"Yeah but now I'm home and I couldn't be happier to be here." All you did was hum at his response as you continued to sort your clothes.

"What are you doing?" He noticed you were making an overnight back.

"Staying at Milla's tonight. She wanted a girls night with just us after we were with the girls all yesterday."

"Oh." Was all he could get out. He was confused. Obviously you could make plans whenever you wanted it's just you rarely made plans when he came back from a road game. You dedicated that day to him and him only. He loved those days even after a win, even in a lost you'd spend it in bed watching film and helping him analyze the games.

"Don't forget to put your laundry in the basket." You turned to him patting his cheek before grabbing your bag getting ready to head out.

"Wait! Whats the matter?" He chased you out of the closet with a confused look on his face.

"Nothing? I going to the store to grab dinner so I can cook at Milla's. She's in the mood for my cooking."

"Okay. So I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" His signature pout made its way onto his face. Normally you couldn't resist it, but today you really didn't care what face he was making.

"Mhmm."

"Bye i love you, text me when you get there." He came up to you planting a kiss to your lips deeply with you barely reciprocating it back.

"Will do." You gave a fake smile to him before leaving the house.

You didn't come home the next day. In fact you stayed one more day at Milla's with the reason being that Milla tired you out at the mall and you didn't feel like packing up everything from the tiredness. When you came back Wednesday morning Joe just got back from his morning work out but could tell you were in a rush.

"Hey! Woah in a rush?"

"Heading into work today. Got a new project." You replied swiftly has he watched you get undressed and dressed in front of him. Every ounce in his body wanted to take you in front of the mirror, but with the look on your face and your pacing he knew you were in a hurry.

"Oh okay. I was thinking dinner tonight with Sam, Ja'marr and Tee? Said they missed your cooking."

"Yeah sure. I'll text you when I leave the office." You smiled grabbing your work bag off the bed and rushing out the door before Joe could even pull you in for a goodbye kiss.

The only thing joe could think about all day was you. He couldnt wait till you got home and have you to himself, even though he needed to wait a few for you to play host. The text came in 2 hours after the boys arrived and they were well into a game of 2k. Screaming and jabs made them forget about the food that was promised.

'Hey sorry on short notice staying late tonight. New project is big. Tell the boys I'm sorry and that I'll cook for them next week. Don't wait up for me.'

'It's okay mamas, don't work yourself to hard. I love you'

All he revived was a heart reaction and no follow up text. He found that strange, but put it off as you were focusing on your work. He understood that. Quickly ordering some takeout the boys didn't mind hearing that next week they were for sure getting your cooking.

Joe didn't even know when you got home last night. Having the boys over drained him so he went to sleep earlier then he thought, he tried to stay up to wait fr you but failed. So to his surprise you weren't even in bed when he woke up. You weren't in the bathroom either. When he made his way downstairs he saw you already dressed for the day washing your finished coffee cup and making a new batch to go.

"Hey I didn't hear you get in last night."

"Yeah I crashed on the couch. To tired to go upstairs." Which had some truth to it. He knew you loved the couch so it wasn't strange you slept downstairs.

"Already heading out?" He asked coming up behind you circling his arms around your waist burying his head into the crook of your neck.

"Just for a few hours. Want to understand the project to I can bring it home for a few days."

"Mhmm, sounds good I missed you home." He mumbled still being comfortable in the crook of your neck.

"You need to get ready for practice and I need to run." You gave him a tight lip smile before rushing out with your coffee and bag in hand. No goodbye kiss, not even a goodbye in general.

He knew something was up, but couldn't figure out what. This whole week since he got back you were short with him. He wasn't even sure he saw you for an hour combined this whole week. The three men who were over that night could tell Joe was deep in his thoughts.

"What's got you all depressed?" Expressed Ja'marr as they were taking a break on the bench. 

"My girl. I haven't even seen her for an hour combined the whole week."

"Woah what did you do to piss her off." Next was Sam who spoke what everyone was thinking.

"Nothing I think? When I got back home she was running off with Milla for a sleepover and that turned into 2 days. When she came back the next morning she was rushing to get to work and stayed overtime which is why she didn't have dinner with us and this morning she was up and out when I woke up. I got two sentences out of her before she rushed out. No goodbye or even a kiss goodbye."

"Oh my guy you messed up big time." Tee said chuckling at the mans stupidity. He didn't know exactly what his teammate did, but knew it was his fault.

"I don't even know what I did! She wasn't like this before the week-" he stopped in his tracks now realizing what could be the cause.

"What did you do?" Ja'marr said knowing that face Joe made all too well.

"Before we flew out, the night before I told her that she was a distraction to me and that I couldn't focus on work with her being all over me." The QB hung his head wanting to knock himself out.

"You gotta be kidding me man."

"You blamed her for your shitty work performance?"

"Oh my god. I didn't even notice. I didn't think she was mad anymore after she was posting about the game on Sunday." Joe was now frantic. How could he have not know sooner.  

"Dude she posts every game it would be weird if she didn't." Tee said the obvious thing that Joe didn't seem to notice that it would be weird to everyone else if you didn't post.

"I would even question why she didn't post." Sam shrugged being the dude less on the internet out of the four. 

"Holy shit I'm a terrible boyfriend."

"Yeah you fucking are." Tee got out a little too fast.

"Wow thanks guys."

"It's your fault I didn't get her cooking last night? Unbelievable." Ja'marr exclaimed making Joe roll his eyes. Of course that was all he focused on.

"So how are you going to make this up?" Sam spoke seeing his friend stressing out.

"I don't know. But I need to do something before she comes home."

As soon as practice ended he rushed home having no time to waste. On the drive home he managed to order food from your favorite restaurant, have flowers delivered to home and a bag you've been eyeing for months. He was going to wait till Christmas to get the bag, but what better time than right now. As dangerous as it would be to be on his phone while driving he checked your location every minute to make sure he would make it home before you. Just as he reached home it was when you left your work place. He hoped you'd come straight home and not make any detours. 

He worked fast, putting the flowers front and center on the kitchen counter, unpacked the food and put it on plates and finally placed the Dior package next to the flowers. Smiling at the little set up he looked at this phone seeing he had time to get dressed up. Sure you didn't mind the sweatpants and a bengals shirt but he didn't feel like it was the most "i'm sorry" fit. 

Walking through the door you let out a sigh. As much as you wanted to avoid Joe more you couldn't help but admit you missed sleeping in your own bed especially with him in it. Maybe you should let up on your semi silent treatment. Your thoughts were paused when you heard your playlist coming through from the kitchen. Peaking your interest. Turning the corner you found Joe standing all dressed up with a goofy smile on his face.

"What is this?" You inquired placing your work bag on one of the free counters.

"A sorry, a i messed up and i didn't realize it till now."

"Joe-" you started before he cut you off.

"I missed the welcome homes, i love you's and the way call me by a nickname instead of Joe. I was stupid. i thought everything was okay with what I said to you last week but it wasn't. Trust me when i say i didn't mean it. This is no excuse, but it was an in the moment thing. I know my performance was shitty these last few weeks and that my day was bad and that was no excuse to take it out on you when you were only trying to make me feel better. I also know that i should've just came to you. The most understanding girl i know, especially when it comes to my job. I don't know what else to say besides i'm sorry." he got out all in one breathe which shocked you. He wants one for a grand speech, but he was pretty good at it.

"It took you almost a week to realize something was wrong with me." you still didn't want to let down your guard, you were going to milk him for everything he had to say.

"I know, I mean i knew you weren't alright since i left, but i guess i let the praise you gave me online clouded everything. Sorry it took me so long to realize."

"You know you made me feel like a slut. like all i wanted from the new hottest quarterback was sex. normally you like to take your mind off of work when it affects you that much but i was wrong and i'm sorry for that."

"Don't apologize. i never meant to make you feel that way, you are not a slut. you've been there for me since my first year at LSU. how could i make you feel any less." He said pulling you into an embrace which was much needed for the both of you.

"Do you forgive me?" He mumbled in your hair making you giggle at how whiny he sounded. 

"I do, and i missed you."

"I missed you more then you could ever know, this past week was worst than my losing streak."

"I doubt that but ill take it. now whats all of this?" You pulled away looking at the little fixture on the kitchen island."

"food from the place you like and a little gift."

"A little? It's a Dior package."

"Open it." he begged you.

Reaching over to the bag you didn't know what was going to be in it, Joe's love language was for sure gift giving so it was always a surprise. When you opened the box you gasped at the bag you've been eyeing out for months. You didn't even tell Joe about your interest in the bag. When you looked back up at Joe he had the signature smirk on his face. 

"How did you know?"

"I pay attention believe it or not."

"You didn't have to." You pouted up at him for the sweet gesture. No matter how many gifts he would shower you with it still caught you by surprise everytime.

"I wanted to. I was going to get you it for christmas, but i have enough gifts to spare." he said as a smirk creeped up on his face.

"You're unbelievable." You laughed pulled him down by the jacket he was wearing to plant a deep kiss. He couldn't help but bring you closer. Right when he was going to lift you up on the counter you pulled away.

"Food is going to get cold." You reminded with a smirk of your own making his drop.

"I haven't touched you in so long." he growled out making you laugh.

"Could've had sex the night before your flight and sex this whole week but thats on you." You said patting his chest as you made your way to sit on the barstool.

"Oh you're never going to let that go."

'am i getting my dinner next week?'

[hvnyrt]

Request: Jason is surprisingly affectionate in private

JASON TOOD X GN! READER

SUMMARY: You're tired, Jason takes care of you

WARNINGS: None, enjoy!

WC: 1.4k 

The door to your apartment closed softly behind you as you stepped inside, your body feeling heavy with the weight of the day. Gotham’s chaos had seeped into everything—into your bones, into your mind. You were physically and emotionally drained, barely able to summon the energy to hang your coat or kick off your boots. The city had a way of exhausting you, of leaving you with nothing to give. It had been one of those weeks—long hours, too much stress, too many things left undone.

But when you entered your living room, you didn’t expect to find him here. Jason Todd. You didn’t even know he was coming over.

He was sprawled out on your couch, leaning back with one leg draped over the side, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at his phone. There was a mug of coffee on the table in front of him, untouched, cooling. The lights were low, casting a soft glow that made the apartment feel more like a refuge than the outside world ever could.

You paused for a moment, not wanting to disturb him—until you noticed the way his posture changed when he heard you enter. His eyes flicked up from his phone, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, quickly replaced by something softer, more concerned.

"Long day?" he asked, his voice quiet, low, the usual edge replaced by a gentler tone.

You nodded, dropping your things in the entryway with a tired sigh. “It’s been a week,” you muttered, rubbing your eyes. “I’m... exhausted.”

Jason didn’t respond right away. He just looked you over, his eyes narrowing slightly as he registered the exhaustion on your face, the way your shoulders sagged in defeat. He was used to seeing people at their worst, but he wasn’t used to seeing you like this. Not like this.

“Come here,” he said, his voice no longer playful but soft, almost commanding in the way he said it.

You glanced at him, too tired to argue, and slowly made your way over to the couch. Jason shifted, sitting up straighter, making space beside him. Without saying anything, he reached out and pulled your legs onto his lap, arranging them carefully like he was afraid you might pull away, like he was trying to be gentle with you in a way he wasn’t always.

“Sit,” he repeated, this time with a soft insistence, as if his only goal was to make sure you found some comfort.

You hesitated for only a moment before sitting down next to him, sinking into the couch. He gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile before grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over both of you. The weight of it was comforting, the fabric soft and warm. His arm naturally settled around your shoulders, pulling you closer, a silent invitation to rest against him.

"You’re too stubborn," he muttered, more to himself than to you, but the words were gentle, like a small reprimand for not taking better care of yourself. His fingers rubbed at the back of your neck, slow and soothing. "You push yourself too hard. You need to slow down."

You leaned your head against his chest, letting out a soft breath, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours. The exhaustion was still there, but now it felt distant. For the first time all day, you didn’t feel like you had to be on alert. With him beside you, the weight of everything seemed lighter.

“I don’t know how to stop sometimes,” you whispered, your voice barely above a murmur. “I just keep going. Even when I’m running on empty.”

Jason didn’t say anything for a while. Instead, his hand moved from your neck to your back, rubbing in slow, comforting circles as if trying to ease away the tension that had built up over the course of the week. You could feel the softness in his touch, the way he wasn’t rushing to do anything—just being present.

“You don’t have to do it alone, you know.” His words were quiet but firm. "Let me take care of you for once. Let me help."

You swallowed, your throat tight at the unexpected vulnerability in his voice. It wasn’t often that Jason opened up like this. He had walls, thick and impenetrable, built from years of hurt. But tonight, he seemed to be letting those walls fall, just a little.

His hand slid down your arm, pulling you even closer to him, until your head was tucked under his chin. The rhythm of his breath steadied yours, and you felt something in your chest—something warm and soft—begin to unfold.

“You’re always the one taking care of everyone else,” Jason said, his voice barely a whisper. “But you deserve to be taken care of too. I’m not going anywhere. Let me help.”

You closed your eyes, trying to push away the tightness that had settled in your chest, the overwhelming feeling that had accompanied the last few days. But his touch, the heat of his body against yours, seemed to make the anxiety fade away, leaving only calm in its wake.

“Thank you,” you murmured, not sure if you were thanking him for the moment of peace, or for his willingness to show up when you least expected it. But the gratitude was there, unspoken but felt all the same.

Jason didn’t respond. Instead, he reached over and grabbed your tea mug from the side table, gently pressing it into your hands. “Drink. It’ll help you relax.”

You took the mug, the warmth of the tea seeping into your cold hands. You sipped it slowly, savoring the way it warmed you from the inside. Jason sat quietly beside you, his fingers still tracing small, comforting patterns on your arm as he watched you. There was no rush, no pressure to talk, to be anything other than what you were in that moment. He was giving you space to breathe, to let go.

As the tea worked its magic, you felt the tension begin to melt away. Your eyelids grew heavy, your body sinking deeper into the couch as Jason adjusted, his body angling closer to yours.

“Lie down,” he said softly, shifting you slightly so you were resting more comfortably on the couch. “You need sleep. You need to rest.”

You didn’t argue. It was too much to argue with him when you felt this good—when his care wrapped around you like a blanket, giving you the comfort you’d been lacking.

He rearranged the pillows behind your head, making sure you were propped up just enough. His hand was never far from you, always resting somewhere on your body, as though he couldn’t quite stop touching you. He wasn’t smothering you, though. It was a subtle, gentle thing—just enough to reassure you that he was there.

You closed your eyes, your body relaxed in a way you hadn’t felt in days. The weight of the world was slowly lifting, and with Jason beside you, you felt safe.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “I’ll be here. Just sleep.”

You nodded, too tired to say anything more. His hand shifted again, this time moving to your cheek, brushing a stray hair away as he gently cupped your face in his palm. His thumb traced over your skin, soft and slow, and for a moment, it felt like he was taking in every detail of you—every part of you that had been worn down, that needed healing.

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Jason leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. The touch was tender, almost reverent, and when he pulled away, you could feel the gentle brush of his breath against your skin.

“Sleep,” he whispered again, the words a soothing balm.

Your eyelids fluttered closed, and you let yourself drift into sleep, the warmth of Jason’s presence grounding you, keeping you safe in the quiet moments. As you drifted off, you could still feel the steady rhythm of his hand on your back, the softness in his touch, the care he was offering so freely. You didn’t need to say anything more. Tonight, Jason had given you what you needed most: peace, tenderness, and a reminder that you weren’t alone.

[heartfullofleeches]

[Angst]

Childhood Best Friends with a small age gap- two or three years, nothing crazy- but it means everything as they age.

It was hard for them to make friends their age when you first met. They liked things that were too "childish" for their peers - things another child who lived not to far away adored. They'd seen each other on the way to school, but they didn't interact frequently due to their difference in grade.

Until that day-

"Whoa...Cool backpack. You like that show too?"

"Thanks... I'm thinking of getting a new one though... Do you want me to ask my parents if you can have it?"

"What?! It looks fine to me... Why are you getting rid of it?"

"My friends called me a baby... I won't be able to go back to class without everyone laughing at me unless I get a better one."

"That's silly!.... It's on right now... Wanna watch it with me?"

The two were inseparable from then on- School hindered the time they had to see each other each morning, but as soon as it let out - both ran to meet with their new best friend. The elder of the pair was often mocked and teased for their choice, but they could hardly care anymore. They had someone who'd stick by their side to the very end - childish fixations and all.

Years went on and they made new friends. It happens. More obstacles began piling up throughout - chipping away at the few hours they scarcely had to begin with. Studying, Hobbies, balancing days between hanging out with other friend groups and the person who once meant the world. They tried to make things works, but nothing went to plan-

"Is it alright if Y/n comes with us tonight?"

"Y/N? Aren't they're too young to see this movie? We shouldn't be responsible if they have night terrors or something.."

"They aren't that young... Are they?"

They never thought about it before. You were so close in age as kids it never hit them that as you grew that little gap drew a bridge between you - and it was easier to let you go than finding an alternative.

"Hey, Dude! Are we still on for this weekend? I can't believe they're making a reboot after all this time!.."

"Are my messages going through? You haven't responded in a while... I saw you outside school yesterday and yelled your name, but....."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Hey."

"You're hanging out with them today? Did you forget about my birthday?...."

"You removed me off your list of friends...We're still friends, right?"

"Let me alone. I'm sick of being your babysitter. Go find friends your own age and stay away from mine."

And that was the end of things.

College cames around and their live became relatively tame. Their thoughts drifted to that childhood friend of theirs every now and again, but between school and partying with the new friends they had made - those memories faded to the back of their mind.

An acquaintance asks them to help show some new faces around the campus. One sticks out to them amongst the crowd. It's you. What do they say to you after all these years? You don't look sad to see them. Nor angry. Intact - you look..

Relieved.

Pulling them aside at the end of the tour, you free yourself from the burden that's weighted down on you since they left you.

"I'm sorry."

"It was never my intention to hold you back. Overtime I realized I was just that annoying kid who clung onto you because I thought you were my first and only friend...When you never felt that way about me. I'm sorry for taking that away from you. If our paths cross again, I promise I won't even look at you."

After being abandoned by your best friend- the person you looked up to most, you matured well beyond your years in hopes that would make you like them again. Overtime, you gave up that goal, but others could see how you've changed.

"Isn't that.... Y/n?.."

"Oh, man- It is! You guys were glued at the hip before we became teens."

"They're..kinda cute... Do you still have their number?"

All this time apart, a feeling long forgotten resurged inside them. The need to protect you. You didn't know these people like they did. You shouldn't be going to parties with them, getting to know and befriend them. They'll only hurt you - worse than they had. They never should have said goodbye to you- They should have allowed the feelings they were so scared to have, but had always been there develop and blossom naturally until you both were adults ready to move on to that stage in your friendship.

They know you best. No matter how much you grow as a person, you're still the same.

"That's a cute Keychain, Y/n!"

"Thanks! I've loved this show since I was a kid!"

They'll prove it to you.

[doremimosasol]

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 - 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 ๋࣭⭑

warnings: suggestive (trying to get into it more please forgive me), swearing

word count: 0,7 k (just a small one this time :))

a/n: thank you so so much @slytherinslut0 for proofreading this and giving these amazing adaptions, I love you <3

Oh, Mattheo was always so goddamn needy. 10 minutes until class? Not ideal. But Mattheo did a lot of things far from ideal. Once you gave him the chance to lay his hands on you, he never stopped.

How you’d finally gotten here was almost mind-boggling to him after months of just trying to get you to look at him, months of wondering how those delicate hands of yours would feel on his body. However, it was more than that. He didn't only want your touch on his skin, he wanted it on his soul. Gods, he’d never craved someone as much as he craved you.

And no matter what he did, he couldn’t control himself. Thoughts running wild when he stared at his ceiling, finding their way back to you without failure. His mind was consumed by thoughts of you. It drove him insane, resulting in endless sleepless nights.

Oh… but when he finally got you to look at him, when he finally got you to speak to him, the thoughts only got worse. You were definitely interested, it must be. Were you though?

To him, it seemed all too coincidental. You woke at the same time as him, and ate breakfast at the same time as him—your minds must be connected. You went to the library at night, you must've known it was a habit of his too. Take the same routes as him? Gosh, you must be in love with him.

But maybe you actually were falling for him, you saw him more than you saw your own friends. Everywhere you were, he was. Coincidence? Hell no. Schedules of each other in the back of both of your minds.

It didn't even take a month before he had you pressed against the wall of one of the broom closets. Hot breath, fervent fingers, charged atmosphere. You wanted each other. He was hastily moving his hands over your shirt, cursing it for getting in the way of his goal.

"For fuck's sake, let these buttons open up already."

Warm breath hitting your ear while he let his hands travel everywhere they shouldn't be. He was so hot, everything about your interactions was hot. Fingers inching closer to the place where you desperately needed them most.

You two never kissed though, the contact of lips unnecessary in the heat of those moments. It would make it feel too real. Because if you didn't kiss, nothing happened right? You could just go on with your lives until the next time.

And that's how you both acted around each other outside of the places and moments he worshipped your body. No traces left on each other, a secret.

10 minutes until class, enough time to get your high. For each of you to get your fix. But not nearly enough time to calm down—both still on edge in class. The steady yapping from the professor at the front was not even remotely being absorbed. Eyes glued to each other, unable to wipe the feel of fingers on skin from your minds. The heat of each other's eyes reflecting the heat that you both now so desperately tried to cool down.

And every time it became more real, the passion was not only present in those rooms but now when you both were around each other throughout the day. The nagging feeling. The emotion undeterred.

You knew it was over when you two finally kissed. You were in far too deep to turn back now. Because it already felt too real, and you both knew it. Once you started, you couldn’t stop — not doing anything other than kissing that night. Trying to make up for the time you waited.

Bodies moving in sync, not even able to catch your breath. You felt out of this world. Yet he was still by his senses, still making sure his body was driving you to your high. Once he heard the familiar sound of your moans he knew, he once again succeeded.

His breath hitting your ears, burning your skin. "Let's make this fucking real, yeah? Be my girlfriend, please be my girlfriend." He was begging... or demanding?

Of course, you said yes. You finally caught your breath, only for it to be taken away once more — and more and endlessly more times.

[sweetbans29]

Mascot - KM

Pairing: Kate Martin x Reader

Summary: Kate had is down bad for the school mascot (based on THIS request)

Warnings: complete fluff

Word Count: 2.3k

Sweetbans Masterlist

Your love for being the school mascot began in high school. It was junior year when you were asked to cover for one of your best friends - who was actually the school mascot at the time. At first, you were nervous but once you were in the suit, you were a natural. You became your high school's mascot senior year and went out for it when you started college.

It was almost like having an alter ego. Outside of the suit, no one would ever picture you as the school mascot. You kept to yourself and really focused on your academics. Most of your time was spent in the library or on your favorite lawn on campus doing schoolwork or reading. If you were ever on the lawn - some of the cheer girls would come up and study with you, but never enough to seem suspicious as to why they were hanging out with you.

When you were in the suit though - your confidence soared (I mean you were a Hawkeye). It was like you could do anything and interact with anyone and that is what you did. The whole school loved you - at least the masked version of you and that was more than enough.

What was nice about how the school did Herky the Hawk was that if you were chosen to be the school mascot you would be one of many. Even though it was all under one character, the person in the suit varied depending on the sport. When you went out for the position, they chose you for all home basketball games. Basketball was your first choice and volleyball would have been your second - you had no desire to be the football mascot.

It took your freshman year to really adjust to working and being a student. But now in your junior year, you had become a pro. Not one person, aside from your boss and the cheer squad, knew you were the mascot for the basketball games and you fully intended on keeping it that way. At least that was your goal until a certain dirty blonde-haired girl started interacting with you a little more.

It started with little asks every once in a while. Kate from the women's team would pull you aside right before games and have you hide somewhere in the tunnel exit to scare her teammate Jada. You had never spoken to her - not able to reveal any part of your identity but would never fight her excitement of scaring her teammate.

The first time she had asked you will always be your favorite.

You were already dressed up and ready for the night when Kate made her way to you. You were by a group of cheer girls when you felt someone grab your arm.

"Hi, I have a favor to ask," Kate says.

You cock your head to the side to signal your curiosity. Kate takes that as your interest and continues.

"I was hoping you could help me scare one of my teammates. She got me kind of good the other day and not that I am keen on revenge, I want revenge." She says with a smile.

You nod and point your finger down, asking if this is something she wants to do now.

"Ya, now would actually be perfect. She is getting ready to come out and do her shoot-around." Kate says and you move your hands as to gesture 'Show me the way'.

She leads you to a spot she had scoped out earlier in the day, it is the perfect little nook for you to hide in. She tells you to wait there and you do.

A few minutes pass and you hear Kate walking out with Jada. Once you see Kate pass you jump out and scare Jada - causing her to scream and freak out.

You and Kate are laughing uncontrollably as Jada comes back to her senses, hitting Kate telling her she is going to pay. She then turns to you and you put your hands up as if to show innocence and she just points a finger at you. You bring her into a hug and pat the top of her head - the best 'apology' you could think of.

Jada runs out to the court, leaving you and Kate in the tunnel.

"Well done, I think that did the trick," Kate says with a little laugh.

You nod.

"Oh! I am Kate by the way. I don't think I have ever introduced myself," she says with a shy smile.

You wish you could tell her your name but that's not an option. You settle for extending your hand to shake hers which she reciprocates. Before letting her hand go, you bring it up and act as if you are kissing it which causes her to blush.

Then with a wave, you head back out to the cheer squad.

Since then, you have become the basketball team's go-to for pranking each other. Kate had unintentionally started a war. Kate had roped you into scaring Jada several times after the initial scare. Other girls from the team also enrolled you to help them. You had helped Jada get Gabby a few times. Hannah had asked for your help getting Jada. Caitlin even came over once asking you to help her get Kate. It had become somewhat of a home game staple.

About halfway through the season, you roped one of your girls in to help you figure out how to ask Kate out. The only reason you had felt so bold to do so is because Kate made it a point to come up and see you before and after every game. Since you couldn't talk to her - the two of you came up with a pre-game handshake as your way of telling her good luck. Then she would always find you after telling you how great of a job you did pumping up the crowd.

One of the cheer girls had come up with the idea of getting Kate your number. It wasn't anything crazy but it opened the door to actually getting to talk to her. You weren't ready to fully come out and expose yourself yet but you loved the idea of getting to text the girl.

It was right after a home win that one of the cheer girls went up to Kate and started talking to her. You tried to busy yourself with taking photos with students and high-fiving the players but you couldn't help but keep an eye on the interaction. You watched how your friend talked to Kate and passed her the little piece of paper that contained your number. The smile on Kate's face was contagious and you could have sworn you saw her cheeks grow a pink tint. Kate looked over at you and you gave an awkward wave. She waved back and thanked the cheerleader.

She texted you that night and the two of you have been texting for the last few weeks. You still had not revealed who you are to her and it was driving her crazy.

"This girl has me falling head over heels for her and I still have no idea who she is," Kate tells Caitlin as they are driving to practice.

"Well, have you asked her?" Caitlin says as if it was that simple.

Kate turns over to her best friend with a 'you can't be serious' look.

"Oh, that's a good idea! I haven't thought of that," Kate says sarcastically as she hits Caitlin's arm.

"Hey! I am driving!" Caitlin says seriously then breaks out into a laugh.

"Well, what do you know about her?" Cailin asks, turning into the parking structure outside of Carver.

"This is her third year as the mascot, she spends a lot of time studying, and she likes the outdoors - she says she goes on walks a lot. She grew up in Iowa, born and raised. Her parents since then have moved out of state. She is huge on cooking." Kate says.

"Well, that last one is a huge plus considering you can't cook for shit," Caitlin says.

"Okay, okay, this isn't about me, this is about her," Kate says.

"Did she at least tell you her name?" Caitlin asks grabbing her practice bag from the back seat.

Kate shakes her head no, "When she is ready she will. Until then, I will just have to wait." Kate also reaches back and grabs her stuff. "She is worth the wait."

The two of them walk into Carver.

"The last thing I will say is that she has the most beautiful laugh. I have heard it a few times now and it is one of the best things I have ever heard. I don't think she knows I have heard it but I have and I try to get it out of her every chance I get. That's how I know she is worth the wait." Kate says as Caitlin pats her friend on the back.

Over the next few days, you can Kate continue to text nonstop. It is almost too distracting to you at this point as you are starting to head into finals. You told Kate you were going to need some uninterrupted time to study and she respected that.

You were in the library with a few of the cheer girls when you needed to take a break. You decided to go on a little walk to clear your head and stumbled across a mama duck and her babies. You stood there and watched them swim around, seeing the ducklings get in little fights with one another causing you to laugh.

Your laugh didn't go unnoticed as Kate was walking to the library to get some of her own studying done before practice. When she heard the sound, it stopped her dead in her tracks. Her head turned to find the source of her favorite sound.

She saw you standing there looking at the ducks and immediately felt her hands clam. This was the moment she had been waiting for. She walks up to you and gives you a little tap on your shoulder. Your head turns around and you look up at her. Your eyes widen and you stand there speechless.

"Hi," Kate says, all confidence lost the second her eyes met yours.

"Hi," you say back. The two of you stand there just taking in one another.

"It's you," Kate says. A blush creeps into your cheeks as you feel completely exposed without the suit on.

You nod and extend your hand to introduce yourself, captivating Kate even more than she already is.

"How did you know...how did you know it was me?" You ask stunned.

Kate looks down, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Well, your laugh kind of gave it away," she says. "It has become one of my favorite sounds."

Now it was your turn to looks down or really anywhere but her eyes.

You ask her if she wants to join your study group and she does. As you sit there and do work, you glance up at her often to admire her. She is adorable when she is focused. You have seen it time and time again on the court but sitting up close and personal with her now - you are able to see just how cute she is. You look at her and admire how she didn't run when she found out you were the one behind the mask. How she took a step closer to you and looked at you with such loving eyes.

Kate looks up when she feels eyes on her and catches you looking. She gives you a soft smile and you return it. Usually, you would be embarrassed about getting caught staring at someone but with her it is different.

The two of you spend the summer getting to know each other more. Kate would take you on dates and want to spend as much time as she can with you. The two of you would work out together and read at your favorite park (usually resulting in a nap). The summer ended with a week trip to the lake before your guy's senior year. It was the best summer you have ever had.

As school began and basketball games resumed, you went above and beyond to show your love and support for the team. Dating Kate had sort of opened the can of worms of the team learning you're the mascot. They were super hype about it and that caused you to go even harder during games. They all kept your confidentiality out of respect for you and Kate.

In one of the games, you went a little overboard when Kate hit the buzzard-beater shot to win the game. You came up and picked up your girl, running her around the court. She couldn't stop laughing and held onto you for dear life. When you finally put her down you give her a hug, whispering in her ear how proud of her you are.

The rest of the season was no different. You continued to support Kate on the court and would love her even more off of it. Her love for you never ceased to grow as she would catch snippets of you cheering her team on.

Kate looked over at you getting the crowd hyped for their game and just stood in awe. She thought back to when she asked you to help scare Jada in the tunnel that one time - the first time she heard you laugh. Never in a million years did she think that she fall in love with the girl in the suit but is beyond grateful that she did.

AN: CUTE! I hope this was a nice little fluffy one for you. Let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for your love and support 💛

[viviiyon]

[ Clover Plush Update! ]

Initially started & released the interest check on twitter, but I feel it'd be good to also post updates here going forward!

(image above's shown only as a prototype, the manufactured sample is still on progress)

Disclaimer! At any stage before the goal is achieved, this project is not guaranteed to be set to fruition. This can be because of the risk of MOQ not being met, or other issues that may arise. Rest assured, I will keep frequent updates on the process as well as being open to answer any further questions. If the preorder goal is not met I'll be refunding everyone so no payment is taken unless I can guarantee production.

Revised /slightly more detailed timeline

Sample downpayment So far I’ve made the downpayment for the sample and the manufacturer is currently working on it! They said it would take roughly 30-35 business days for it to be complete.

Updated references I’ve also made an updated Clover plush reference sheet for them to use and I’ll be putting them here aswell! (regular & alternative outfit below!)

Flowey plush accessory replacement Regarding the usage of Flowey on the Clover plush, I’ve contacted Fangamer and since the production is on a slightly larger scale, I’ll be replacing the Flowey plush alongside the main plush with a pin instead (so you’d still be able to clip it onto Clover!)

Addition of the magnetic gun accessory Due to popular demand from the interest check, I’ve requested the manufacturer for a mini gun accessory that can be attached to the hands! (it should also be in the reference picture above)

Fixed cost The plush now has a fixed planned cost of $25 for the base plush with the main outfit, and $40 for the variant including the alternative outfit!

Platform plan While previously I mentioned I’d possibly use kickstarter, due to being based in Indonesia, there isn’t support for that platform here, so I’ll most likely be using Big Cartel for the preorders! (Unless there is another promising alternative)

Updated shipping estimate I’ve made some rough estimates in USD (keeping in mind weight & size). If you have any questions regarding shipping to your country unspecified below, lmk!

USA - ~$22

North / South America - $22-30

EU - $20-30

Asia outside of SEA - $20

Within SEA - $10-15

Once again if you have any questions feel free to ask them! (and especially here too since this is the first I'm posting about it on tumblr-)

[lowkeyrobin]

Hi!! 🍄 again I was wondering if I could get a platonic newt x reader (from tmr) where maybe it’s while newt is still new to his limp and reader is helping him do Is jobs

(Also just to let you know if you didn’t newt from tmr is canonically gay (as stated by the author ) I just wanted to let you know so you didn’t write him with a fem reader btw I didn’t relizie how rude this sounds not trying to be rude just and fyi also sorry if you did know just a lot of fans didn’t )

Thank you once again sorry if it seemed rude

ooooo okay I like this! ; also I know, don't worry, and you didn't sound rude! i do see newt as a queer character 100 and I always have, even before learning about James dashners tweet about it, which I find sketchy bc I'm pretty sure he tweeted that after being accused of being weird to women or smthn?? idrk, doesn't matter here bc gn readers only + I wholeheartedly see newt as queer and I can rant ab it for hours ; I don't plan on writing for tmr much but pls send requests, I love writing for this fandom lol

NEWT ; personal aid

summary ; youre helping him after he gained his limp

warnings ; language, talk of/about suicide and mental health

genre ; platonic fluff, kinda angst

word count ; 1k

masterlist

Newt was recently injured in the maze. He'd been as fixed up as possible, given a brace made of tree branches and some painkillers sent from the box. At least no one was using the pills for bad, considering they're a fragile item to give to a bunch of teenagers. The only thing you'd ever thank WCKD for was those painkillers, because seeing the blonde hurt like that killed you inside.

To put it as blankly as possible, he tried to kill himself. He climbed his way up of one of the walls surrounding the glade using the ivy that grew on it, and jumped. He fell about thirty feet, considering he only climbed up the wall about a third of the way, apparently thinking thirty feet would kill him.

He'd never been the type to express happiness within the glade, but he never expressed the opposite either.

But, everyone struggles inside, especially in the Glade. Reoccurring dreams and nightmares, unanswered questions, the will to live dwindling down each and every day, they only fed into the growing depression. Everyone was struggling in the Glade, but Newt, he took the first place trophy for that.

Once he'd been able to walk around again, you took helping him into your own hands. He was clearly never running in the maze again, due to the limp that slowed him down. So, he had a few options, hopefully one he'd like.

Alby took pity in him, making him his right hand man not long after. He needed someone around for when he wasn't, Newt was a good choice for that. He was responsible, good at directions, and keeping order.

You were working as Newt's personal aid, being a medic. You were very much an empath, and your true goal was to just help anyone and everyone. You brought him food and water, washed his clothes, sewed up his ripped up clothes from that day in case he'd be strong enough to wear them again, you did everything for him.

But now he leans into you, looking up at you with a certain displeasure, clearly uninterested in working outside of the maze.

You obviously were never going to let him be a builder, that was already off the table. But he got to look around and make his decision between slicer, cook, track-hoe, med-jack like you, slopper, bagger, and map keeper.

He easily put his money down on track-hoe. Something you didn't know about him was that he found gardening therapeutic. You didn't blame him whatsoever, you never wanted to be in the shoes of the sloppers, slicers, or baggers. To be fair, it was a little too gruesome and gross for you, you'd rather be helping people around the Glade than washing everyone's clothes or killing the animals, just a personal opinion.

He needed help while working, though. He couldn't put too much weight on his one foot, and he couldn't bend down on that knee at all yet. So, while he worked, you stood off to the side, making sure he was alright while you watched the others work around the Glade, enjoying their peaceful, warm day.

While he was picking fruit and vegetables off the vines of ivory, you were by his side, either holding the basket or getting the ones he couldn't bend down to reach. You couldn't help but feel bad for his poor spine as well, considering your back started to hurt after a few hours. The gardens were pretty large, considering there was about thirty or forty boys in the Glade to feed, meaning there was always hours and hours of work or expansion to do.

"Y/n, sorry, can you help me?" The dirty blonde asks, groaning as he stands back up, holding a hand on his knee. "I can't get those tomatoes at the bottom"

You quickly nod, kneeling down to grab them for him while he moves to the next bush, plucking off all the ripe tomatoes off the vine. You retie a string around the support branches, which heald the bush together and let it grow vertically rather than horizontally and try and choke out and kill any other plants nearby.

"Fry is gonna love it when he sees these tomatoes, they're the biggest and ripest they've been in a long time" You comment, looking over at Newt.

He nods, tossing a cherry tomato in his mouth to amount to a little snack. "He sure is, we'll be eating good this week" He chuckles with a little smile. "You wanna work on the cucumbers for me? I'll get the corn" He suggests, wanting to work a bit quicker and suggest some things he could actually do without feeling a pain shoot through his leg.

You nod, taking a new basket over to the cucumber lane. You feel something pang in your heart as you see him attempt to kneel down on one foot to reach one last tomato, groaning and furrowing his brows in the process, clearly still hurting him.

"How are you feeling? Physically and mentally, nothing is off the table."

Newt shrugs, watching you examine and touch around the bruising and his ankle. Your fingertips slide over his ankle a little harshly, and he quickly inhales and furrows his brows, which you respond to by quickly pulling your hands away and apologizing.

"On a light note, it looks much better than before already. How are you doing in a mental sense?"

"I hate this bloody place, I feel dumb for not climbing higher-" He strays silent, watching you wrap a fresh bandage around his ankle. "Sorry..."

"It's okay. I'm here as your personal aid, Newt"

"That's the damn thing! I don't want you to waste your days on me. You have other important stuff to do, I don't want you to have to babysit me." The blonde expresses, watching you properly stand up.

"It's fine, really. You're still in a lot of pain, and I swear I'm not babysitting you. I'm just watching over you so it doesn't end up hurting more, alright?"

"Alright..."

[ilikekidsshows]

What Marinette and Sakura had is similar but different that I find it pretty hilarious. Marinette is being hyped as strong female lead, best Ladybug and best Guardian when those are lie. While Sakura from Naruto is being trashed for being trash and useless when those are lie. Like sure, Sakura in s1 isn't really that good. The only good thing about her is her cakra control but she didn't stop there, after Sasuke betrayal she become determined to be better so she would be able to help her friends and she end up being a great medic ninja. While Marinette is being hyped for no reason but gaslight the audience. What's she's good at? Designing, sure. But in the superhero side? There's nothing in there that worth the hype.

---

The Sakura thing is extra wild, because the canon doesn’t have characters constantly saying that Sakura is useless regardless of all evidence to the contrary, the fandom decided that on its own. Also, like, hot take, but Madara Uchiha sucks in all the ways the fandom insists Sakura sucks but people insist he’s totally cool and not a loser. It just goes to show you that, once a fandom has convinced itself of something, there’s no changing so-called “common knowledge” aka “popular opinion”. And that’s what the take that “Marinette is a good person and a competent hero” has degraded into: just a popular opinion that has very little basis on canon.

Don't get me wrong, Marinette has shaped up to be an awful hero based on morals, but she’s also just plain bad on an observable competence basis. Astruc insists that she is the lone hero while Cat Noir is her sidekick, meaning she should be on the level of Batman or Spider-Man. Trying to claim that either of these heroes couldn't win without supportive characters coming in to prop them up every step of the way would be ridiculous. Yet, Marinette constantly needs to be propped up by her sidekick Cat Noir and other characters too. She’s constantly having nervous breakdowns she can’t overcome without someone else coming over to give her a pep talk. The main hero being a wimp is not heroic.

Marinette is constantly on the verge of giving up and has to be motivated to keep going on by other characters. In ‘Origins’ alone, she got three pep talks and Alya was in danger before she decided to don the Ladybug earrings again. In ‘Volpina’ she was about to give her Miraculous to Volpina before Cat Noir intervened. This is even true in her civilian life with the way she almost skipped a fashion show featuring her own design or her whole “I should just be Ladybug all the time!” moment. The main hero constantly being on the verge of giving up on any goal she’s pursuing is not heroic.

It’s one thing to grow through others’ support to be able to carry your own weight, but Marinette never overcomes one of her fits without outside help. If she was as good of a planner as the show claims, she would have fled when she discovered Gabriel was Monarch and gotten backup, because she should know by now that she’s weak-willed and incapable of withstanding stress on her own. She should have showed up at the mansion of the man the writers confirmed she knew was Monarch with any allies she could gather to begin with. Instead she thinks she can solo Monarch when she’s never been able to get out of a high-stakes situation without backup before. Arrogance and lack of strategic thinking are not heroic.

To make matters worse, when Marinette is having her final battle against her nemesis with none of her allies, like the writers claim they intended from the start, she objectively loses. The wish canonically destroys the world to remake it anew. That means Monarch destroyed the world. It doesn’t matter if he put it back the way it was (mostly) or if Marinette benefits from these changes. Letting the villain destroy the world is not heroic. She’s such a bad hero that she can't even save the day when it really counts. The only other time I’ve seen the heroes lose this badly was in Watchmen, which was an intentional deconstruction of superheroes where said heroes were meant to be seen as unheroic.

Also, like, Marinette’s other accomplishments are also very lackluster. I’m usually the first one to defend Miraculous’ fashion choices, but, really, what has Marinette designed after the retool? The fucking cloaks artists use to protect their clothes from paint splatters that she designed with the prompt “thematically opposing superhero costumes”? Before the retool she designed several accessories that are worn by famous people in addition to a lot of other stuff. Even more glaringly her four and a half seasons long love quest where she struggled with confessing to the guy she’s in love with was resolved by the guy confessing to her first, while she struggles to reciprocate for the rest of the season even after they get together. The main hero being such a failure is not heroic.

All of Marinette’s series goals, as a protagonist and hero, end in failure. She never could work up the courage to win Adrien over, that was handed to her. She never earned her position as Guardian, she lucked her way into finding the book and being the one nearby when Fu had to transfer his position thanks to the position she put him in. She lost all of the Miraculouses within months or possibly weeks of becoming the Guardian. She let the world be destroyed. Marinette, as a whole, just isn’t a heroic character.

You can’t even argue that Marinette is inexperienced and still learning and that’s why she still loses, because the show explicitly tells you that this is not the case. Ladybug, after gaining all of her full adult powers in ‘Queen Mayor’, still loses. French historical hero Jeanne d'Arc calls Marinette the greatest Ladybug ever and she still loses. This is the best she, or any Ladybug, can do, this is what peak performance from a Ladybug hero looks like: losing the fight and the bad guy destroying the world. The show treats Marinette as a super competent girlboss while she accomplishes nothing of true importance to her or the story. I’m not interested in any Ladybug hero if this is what the best of them can accomplish: nothing. Ladybug isn’t a superhero, she’s a loser hero.

[lesbianashleywilliams]

So those of you who have been following me may have noticed that I all but disappeared for about three months...well, that's because I've been planning to go to Japanese language school, and the wheels have really begun to start turning!!!!!!

I have been given the opportunity of my lifetime to be able to attend a Japanese language course at the International Study Institute in Tokyo's Shinjuku Ward. The course runs for a year, with the opportunity to extend it to two years, if my grades and money are sound [insert sound of children cheering here].

Being able to study Japanese locally and long-term has been a life goal of mine since I was fourteen. Though I'll probably never be able to fulfill my teenage dream of being an interpreter/translator for expats, this feels like the next best thing. Due to suffering from several comorbid chronic conditions that have majorly altered my life, most notably the beast known as systemic lupus erythematosus, I will probably never be able to seize another chance like this ever again. I won't be going in as a total novice, as I was able to take a year's worth of 1000-level Japanese language courses in college…before I had to drop out…… Since then I've been self-studying and using language exchange apps for practice, but nothing will beat the experience of using it in the day-to-day.

At this point in time (January 2024), my first six months of tuition have already been paid for. I am currently in a quiet waiting period while I wait to get to the next steps of the Certificate of Eligibility/Student Visa process. Before that, though, I need to secure my flight and housing. For the sake of my health, safety, privacy and comfort, a sharehouse will not be an option; I will have to seek a private apartment. I am here today to request assistance with the aforementioned flight and initial housing costs. It's still too early to commit to either of those, but:

The average cost of flexible one-way flights from where I am to either of the two Tokyo metro airports (Haneda and Narita) is running around $1200

I am doing some preliminary apartment scouting and am hoping not to exceed $800 per month (I will be traveling with suitcases and will need to properly store them). The apartments I am looking at do not require a security deposit or key money, but will probably come with a guarantor fee.

Now because I'm not going over there through one of the more common avenues - through a university or a job - I have to do it myself. Real life has meant that I've had to dig into my bank balance a bit, and after paying for the first six months I'm a little under the 2 million yen (~$14k) threshold that Immigration likes to see for a year's study. I'm lucky enough in that I will at least have a regular source of (unearned) income, as well as a financial sponsor; it's just the bank balance, flight, and accommodation that are hanging me up. Right now I am setting the initial goal at $3000, but I expect to move those goalposts at least once. Any extra will go towards a flight home for the Christmas holidays in December. After that, it'll go towards paying down my credit cards as much as I can prior to leaving the United States.

I can provide my conditional letter of acceptance from ISI, as well as the school invoice and receipt of the bank transfer for the first six months of tuition upon request (identifying information redacted, of course).

Because there's still a couple of months until I'm set to fly out I put together a GoFundMe (now that's a name I haven't used in a while) to idly collect whatever help I can. At the very least I just need this post to circulate enough to eventually cast a wider net outside of Tungle.hell.

GoFundMe

If you can't use GFM, V3nmo and P4ypal are also options:

V3nmo: @/venus3palette

P4ypal: @/fantasytheater

Again: I'm not in that much of a hurry, and the situation isn't dire! Thank you for combing my wall of text!!!!

[kolyasangel]

A FLAME WITHIN ME

synopsis: nikolai can't seem to understand why he can't be apart from you when you stir familiar feelings, as well as not-so-familiar ones in him.

content: ch. 6 of icarus falls - main navi / wc: 9.4k

Consciousness is truly nature's greatest nightmare.

Nothing will ever compare to the sheer horror of being aware of yourself being your own prison.

The coldness of the counter beneath his hands is uncomfortable, the surface biting into his palms. His eyes are tightly closed in frustration while drops of water drip down his face, clinging to damp bangs that stick tackily to his skin.

Nikolai thought he'd changed years ago, that he had shed his former weak self. He hadn't changed at all this whole time. He remained stagnant—a lost and helpless boy driven by one wish, who dared to defy divine beings and went above and beyond extremes all to chase after his dream. Yet, when he looks in the mirror, he doesn't recognize the reflection that stares back. He couldn't stand the sight that was warped by self-loathing, an urge to heave swirling in the pit of his gut every time he caught a glimpse of himself.

He doesn't know who he is anymore. But this is what he wanted, didn't he? To lose himself entirely and irrevocably.

Freedom was the one word that constantly clung to Nikolai's mind like a stubborn shadow. His goal wasn't just a goal, it was his whole existence—the very thing that shaped his foundations as a person, the very thing that defined his essence.

It’s been a week since that night, yet the memories haunt him like restless spirits.

You always find a way to creep into his mind late at night when the world fell silent and the darkness deepened, your presence a ghostly echo in the stillness of his room. There were times when he would stir in bed, wondering if you were in his room, only to pull the covers back and sit up to realize he was alone.

Alone.

Confinement was a torture of its own kind. He couldn't remain cooped up within four walls, suffocating in the stifling air of his own despair. He felt as if the walls were closing in on him, and he feared he might lose his grip on sanity completely if he didn't step outside at least once in a while, even just once to breathe. However, he isn't sure if it helps anymore because he knows who is going to be there outside most of the time, waiting to accompany him.

His cherished daily routine of watching the sunset alone was interrupted, now shared with you, each smear of orange and pink that paints the sky every day now intertwined with the remembrance of you.

And he hates it. He hates the confusion, hates the memories, hates what he's become.

He hates everything.

But he doesn't.

But he does.

He feels like this is almost another punishment for him as if the anguish of having taken the life of his first friend hadn't been enough. This—whatever is happening between you both��is a mockery of his resolve, a cruel trial designed to see if he would truly be able to withstand the pull of desire once more.

The burning sensation in the back of his throat is unbearable as his fingers slip into the depths of his pockets to grasp the deadly item—an object that whispered insidious promises of relief to him when incredible, mind-eating guilt almost pushed him to the edge multiple times. The cold metal grazing against his fingertips is enough to make shivers run down his spine—though it is nothing compared to the thought of you lying in a pool of your own blood.

Would he be content if you were gone? Would he finally have his freedom?

The solution seemed deceptively simple enough, and the answer should be even more so. A near escape wrapped in the finality of a single bullet was all it would take to dissipate his problems, to dissolve the solidifying agony you're putting him through.

Things would go back to the way they were.

But there was one issue.

He doesn't think he'll be able to withstand the heat again. Because then again, there is something about you that simultaneously puts his soul at a strange sense of peace. It infuriates him how your very existence seems to flicker like a soothing flame amidst his tempestuous thoughts, as if you were disguising as light and purposefully luring him into the very fire he feared.

Not to mention, he'd become so unbelievably weak that it made him nauseous to even think about ever in any way hurting you, or anyone for that matter.

He has the blood of hundreds, including innocents, on his hands from his actions. No matter how many times he washed them, he still felt unclean, unable to remove the permanent sense of visceral remorse left on his tainted body and soul, a residue of his blood-stained past from his objections against morality. Those same transgressions against the very morals he sought to oppose were undoubtedly ineffective, still inhabiting and plaguing his mind to this day. He would do anything to escape feeling it—this unbearable guilt that had no place in his mind, yet infiltrating every corner of his mind, claiming far too much space for comfort. Every fiber of his being screamed for release, a clamor of need that churned within him—a lion thrashing against the confines of its cage, desperate for liberation.

But he isn't quite sure why he wanted to change in the first place or why he had pursued the actions that had led him to this state. To prove his free will, of course. Then why does he still feel trapped when he should be free? Ironically, each attempt to assert his proof of free will seemed to tighten the chains around him.

How could he feel this way? Why was he allowing himself to be entangled by these emotions when it brought nothing but delirium?

He wasn't confident that the tolerance was conscience. There was no way it could've been when he was unknowingly digging deeper into his own grave.

Freedom hangs above him, daunting and overwhelming. Each step toward that ethereal light is fraught with risk, that he already knows. Yet, he longed to touch that radiant horizon, to wrap his fingers around its glow. It shimmers just beyond his grasp, but he already feels the burning heat. Perhaps it's the indelible scars of shame that marred his skin and lined his wings, a reminder of the flames of past endeavors that had never truly been extinguished after all this time.

He can't help but be worried this time, hovering in uncertainty when the menacing specter of downfall threatens too large. It feels natural to be after last time, an unsettling reality he still cannot shake off—having soared so close before, only to get sent plummeting down from such dizzying heights so incredibly far up. Somehow, against all odds, he'd managed to pick himself back up after his initial fall, but the ghost of fear still haunts him. What if he fell again—this time, perhaps, into a sea of despair from which there was no return?

Was the light an utter illusion? It seemed frustratingly unattainable.

How come you don't see it like he does?

If he didn't know any better, he'd assume you were also searching for freedom, judging by the way you seemed to agree with his views in some regard. He would've thought there was an understanding between you both, that you both wanted the same thing. But you believe in fate, you believe in purpose, you believe in all these things that he can't begin to grasp the concept of. You are so incredibly brainwashed that it's laughable, bearing more differences than alike to him. Still, a small part of him couldn't help but anticipate the opposite for some reason.

"I find that whenever you have a purpose, life is more bearable."

Purpose. What is his purpose? No, he doesn't need a purpose. The thought of it made him recoil in disgust. That would go against and undermine everything he stands and fights for—a stark contradiction to the threads of independence he had tightly woven together around his existence.

There is no meaning to life, after all.

There is no meaning to this life he has no choice but to live. He deems your need for purpose in existence as nonsensical and would go as far as to say you're delusional for believing in it. He wants to laugh at your utter foolishness and your naivety—so caught up in your own silly beliefs, so thoroughly yet unknowingly trapped in the cage of your own mind. Yet, amid that laughter lay an envious ache for insensibility, a craving for the simplicity of it all. And, amidst this envy, he felt a pang of anger.

How dare you find solace when he felt so frantic to find his?

You must laugh at him in secret when he's not around you—laugh at him for how socially inept he is, at how ridiculous you think he sounds whenever he speaks to you. You must think he's weird and feel pity for him. You make fun of him, don't you? The thought of it fuels him with rage and makes him clench his fists in infuriation.

No, he's the one who's laughing at you! You're the one who's trapped after all. You're the fool!

He wants to laugh, but his throat feels tight, stifling any noise from coming out. He can't even smile at the thought that should be humorous.

Because he knows his suspicions aren't true—your kindness was transparently evident, too potent and telling to hold any ill intent. He can try to convince himself against it all he wants, but pure is the first thing that comes to his mind.

His cheeks feel warm despite the icy water he splashes on his face and his eyes close as a deep sigh escapes his lips.

Why did the mere thought of you make him feel feverish?

You must be lying when you compliment his biggest insecurities—you have to be. It feels impossible that you could mean what you say. But he isn't sure why you would lie to him, nor could he understand why it would matter in the first place.

A fresh wave of frustration washes over him, emotions layering upon emotions. Hatred for himself mixed with these feelings for you, creating a toxic blend that was poisoning his mind. How could he be so weak as to feel like this? Why did the tenderness you elicited make him feel oddly comforted yet utterly enraged?

He feels so much. You make him feel so much. Too much—so intense and so overwhelming to that of a fire that burns too vividly, far beyond what he can contain.

It's your fault. It's all your fault.

These feelings of resentment never leave him, instead, they entwine with these strange new emotions toward you, altogether only seeming to grow more and more and wrap around his heart like wild, invasive vines.

But were you truly the only one to blame?

He himself should be resilient and unshakeable—a bastion of strength that refused to be swayed by the trivialities of emotional entanglements, not permitting such frivolous things to distract him from his goal. Yet, here he was, flinching and breaking beneath the weight of feelings he despised regardless. His refusals to surrender to distractions had become vain, for they never lasted, always returning to bite him in the end. Rage blinded and held him in a fiery grip, and old fear devoured him over and over again.

What was his life before you?

Now that he thinks about it, he doesn't seem to remember at all. All he knows is that, with you, he felt a little lighter, which frustrated him to no end. It's a momentary lightness, an escape from the heaviness he carried, the need for closeness clashing with the want to break free from all attachments.

No, wait. He's felt this way before. And it didn't end well for him.

Sinking to the floor, he grasps his hair tighter while his eyes feel heavy with unshed tears, feeling that stifling blend of desire and dread.

Freedom isn't real. Free will isn't real. None of it is real.— is what a voice whispered in the back of his mind whenever despair settled in, twisting his thoughts until they spiraled into chaos.

What even is freedom? Will he ever experience it?

His head pounded from overthinking, each thought hammering all at once against his skull, amplifying his fear of failure.

Loud.

It was all so loud.

— ✦

The sound of loud knocking makes your head jerk up as you're walking up the stairs. You had just made your weekly trip to the dim laundry room downstairs and were returning with a small basket full of fresh laundry in your arms, but your heart rate picks up slightly at the disturbance that echoes in the hall. The noise is sharp and insistent, though it doesn't sound like it's coming from your door.

Your feet quicken, hurried and anxious, and by the time you reach the second floor, you spot your landlord poised outside Nikolai's door.

"Is something wrong?" you ask as you approach your door slowly, concerned to know what's happening while keeping your eyes on him.

He turns to look at you when he hears your voice. "Fool hasn't paid rent yet," he replies with a peeved expression, his voice low and grim before knocking on the door again.

Oh, right—today is the first of the month. You had already taken care of your own rent and paid it beforehand right before it was due at the end of last month, but it seems Nikolai wasn't as punctual.

Nikolai's occupation is still a mystery to you. You remember prodding him about it before, but he remained tight-lipped, making his reluctance to answer your question apparent. The thought of bothering him about it didn't seem too hopeful either and felt sort of daunting in a way, so you didn't after the initial refusal, knowing that it'll most likely provoke an uncomfortable silence more than anything.

"Maybe he forgot?" you suggest, hoping to lend a bit of optimism to the situation.

Your landlord only scoffs, a harsh laugh escaping his lips. "He does this almost every month. I'm this close to evicting him," he responds, his hand gesturing in a cutting motion as if to emphasize his point.

You frown, both empathy and confusion washing over you.

"I'm sure he'll pay it soon enough, he's nice.." you offer tentatively, trying to subtly defend him even though you're hit with the weight of your landlord's skepticism almost immediately.

"Nice?" He laughs again, this time tinged with a hint of scorn at your words. "This guy is anything but nice. He's a fuckin' cocky jackass is what he is, plain and simple," he retorts, his eyes glinting with contempt while he speaks about him.

A heat rises in your chest at his upsetting words, an unexpected surge of protectiveness for Nikolai swelling within you. Is he talking about the same person? You aren't sure. And you aren't sure what sparked an intense reaction, but it twisted uncomfortably in your stomach. You felt the need to say something knowing that Nikolai was likely inside, able to hear everything that was being said about him, every demeaning word being tossed around at the expense of his character.

The idea of someone having such a harsh view of Nikolai seems unheard of, especially when he ever does is keep to himself and mind his own business. Sure, you can understand the frustration that comes from tenants who don't pay their rent on time, but beyond that, Nikolai seems far from deserving of such vitriol. Now that you recall, Nikolai didn't have such high regard for him either. You remember all too well the way he grabbed your wrist and made you lead the stairs, the flash of hurt and frustration that crossed his face when you asked him what his deal was between him and his landlord, who, setting aside money matters, only seemed to belittle him at any given opportunity just because he could.

You didn't know any better at the time, but you still feel regret for evoking a reaction like that from him—for asking about something you knew nothing about. It was the most emotion you've ever seen come out of Nikolai, and you weren't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

You had to wonder why Nikolai didn't file a report or take any action against him either. It was like he'd accepted being treated this way.

The thought of it makes you deeply upset.

And he questions Nikolai's kindness? Maybe he would be if people were kinder to him.

"Don't talk about him like that, please," you interject, your voice rising just above a whisper.

He snorts, still doubtful of your previous statement. "I'm surprised he even talks to you," he tells you, raising an eyebrow.

"Why?" you ask, genuinely confused.

"I've never seen him talk to anyone else ever since he's moved here."

Your eyes widen. You know that Nikolai isn't exactly the best at socializing or just talking—it's painfully clear from your interactions with him on a regular basis. Despite this, it never bothered you at all and actually drew you closer, so to hear it articulated so bluntly leaves you momentarily speechless, grappling with a swirl of emotions you didn't know how to process. It leaves an awkward silence to settle in for a bit, with neither of you saying anything else.

After several moments with no response from the closed door, you hear your landlord click his tongue in irritation before he storms down the stairs, the thud of his footsteps resonating heavily against the walls.

Your body turns with the intent to return to your apartment, you try to, but your eyes can't leave Nikolai's door for some reason.

Just then, the silence is broken. You watch carefully when you hear the sound of a creaking door, and there he is—mismatched, guarded eyes peering cautiously through the narrow crack.

A soft smile spreads across your face. "Nikolai.."

He only responds with a nod, his lips pressed tightly together in a half-hearted smile that barely touches his eyes. His gaze drifts momentarily, landing on the laundry basket you're holding in your arms before they slowly move up to your eyes which are already fixated on him.

What the hell are you looking at?

You're probably silently judging him, thinking about how stupid and disheveled he looks right now, but his thoughts dim down, softening when his eyes trail further down and notice something different about you. Your lips are adorned with a delicate pink tint today, a soft sheen that catches the light with every subtle movement, complementing the sweetness in your eyes—an alluring combination that he thinks is too dangerous and hard for anyone to resist, even for him.

"Nikolai?" you say his name gently again, sensing his mind and attention wandering away elsewhere.

He blinks to snap out of it, abruptly reorienting himself as if shaking free from a web of distracting thoughts. "Yeah?"

"Did you get any sleep last night?" you ask him kindly, studying the obvious tiredness in his eyes and demeanor.

There it is—the question that has slipped from your lips every morning since last week. It annoyed him greatly, yet he never said anything to express his detest for it.

He sweeps his fingers across his messy braid, brushing back the rebellious strands from his forehead. "Yeah.." his reply came quietly, accompanied by a lazy stretch while he raised an arm to rub the back of his neck "What about you?" he asked before opening the door a little wider.

"I did, and I'm glad because otherwise I would've slept right through work," you giggle trying to lighten the mood before you change the topic, your voice lowering into a whisper. "But you didn't pay rent yet? You'll get in tr—"

He immediately moves to shut the door in your face before you can finish, which startles you and makes you take a step back. Your smile falls and you cradle the basket in your arms tighter.

But, just as suddenly, you hear the faint creak of the door opening again, this time with notable heedfulness.

"Listen, you don't need to worry about me, okay? I can take care of myself," he tells you. "He'll get his money soon enough." Irritation threads through his voice as he sneers, eyebrows knitted in frustration, mixed with an unexpected sense of embarrassment presumably due to the fact that you heard everything about his financial troubles and now knew about his inability to pay his rent on time.

"How haven't you gotten evicted yet though?" you ask him with surprise at his ability to dodge your landlord's scrutiny.

"Magic," he replies flatly, stressed by a dramatic roll of his eyes, which makes you laugh.

"You can do magic?" you ask with a sweet smile, taking his seemingly playful response seriously, eager to see how he'll respond to you. "Can you show me?"

The look on his face morphed into one of confusion at your response, like he didn't expect it. Well, by now, he isn't entirely sure what he expects from you anymore anyway.

"No. Go to work," he says and dismisses you with a wave of his hand as if to swat away your curiosity, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly like he's suppressing a small smile before he finally shuts the door, leaving you standing alone to face the wooden barrier between you again.

— ✦

You can't focus at all.

Rich red hues dominate your vision as you deal with the task of arranging the flowers in front of you, absentmindedly doing so more than anything, you have to admit. The delicate petals are soft beneath your fingertips, exuding a fragrant sweetness that mingles in the air—a blend of floral notes that lulls you into a sense of calm.

But calmness never lasts.

Suddenly, you wince from feeling something sharp poke your hand, a sudden sharp sting jolting you from your preoccupied state. You instinctively pull away and drop the flowers somewhere aside in disarray, instead inspecting for what could've hurt you, your eyes landing on one of the roses that bore a thorn someone must've missed removing.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" calls your coworker who was helping you replenish the flowers, an older lady with a warm smile and a gentle demeanor. She moves closer, her concern evident as she observes your discomfort.

"Yeah, it's just a cut. I'll be fine," you reassure with a small forced smile, appreciative of her nurturing nature, though you can feel the sting pulsing slightly.

You turn to head to the employee's room in the back, hoping to find a band-aid. The door creaks open as you push it open, stepping inside and flicking the light switch on before your eyes start scanning the shelves, cluttered with miscellaneous supplies. Reaching up for the first-aid kit and bringing it down to a table, you rummage through it, feeling various items against your fingers until you find a box of band-aids, opening it and pulling one out. The sight of crimson that starts trickling down your finger indicates that this isn't just a cut. Still, you're sure a thorn didn't get stuck beneath your skin, so you figure a bandaid will suffice for now—a temporary solution until you can apply ointment and allow time for healing.

How could you be so careless? You've always been so careful about handling flowers, but you guess your mind isn't in the right place today.

With shaky fingers, you peel the band-aid's adhesive from its glossy wrapper and gently wrap it around your pointer finger, wincing in the process from the slight sting that accompanies the pressure. Confliction washes over you when the thought of leaving early pops into your head alongside the persistent throb in your hand. The idea is undeniably appealing, but you're hesitant, thinking it would be disrespectful to leave early and abandon your coworker to finish the evening alone. So, despite circumstances, it only seems right to push through your discomfort and wait it out until the end of your shift.

Returning to the front, you glance over at the clock and notice its hands inching closer to the closing hour anyway. The shop feels quiet, the gentle hum of the day fading into the evening, though it feels like the day has slipped away quicker than usual, like a blur. You untie your apron, the fabric rustling softly as you take it off when you realize that no more customers are likely to come in, especially with close to only twenty minutes left before closing. Resolute, you decide to count and close the cash drawer, keen to finish the task up beforehand before heading home.

You look out the window and notice the sky start to darken a bit as the sun sinks lower, always serving as a reminder you'll get to go home soon and possibly see Nikolai. Your lips curl into a smile thinking about it—the typical routine that had formed between you and him. In the morning, you'd see him already on the balcony, his figure outlined against the soft glow of dawn, and the two of you would exchange the familiar words of 'good morning' to each other before your day began. By evening, you'd come back after work to see Nikolai perched in the same spot watching the sunset, and you would join him and chat with him, watching as the colors shifted in the sky, sometimes until they melded into deep indigo.

Granted, you did most of the talking, whether it was chattering about your day or sharing mundane random details of your life with him, and at times childhood stories and whatnot while he listened to you. His face always expressed a solemn look, with the exception of a few smiles and laughs here and there caused by you.

You never bothered to ask what he was thinking about. You think that would be a bad idea. Not everything is your business—that you know, but you couldn't help but want to know if he's doing alright. But he always seems reluctant to tell you anything. And that's okay too, you thought. He's not obligated to talk about life if he doesn't want to, though a part of you still wants to pry into those thoughts behind his melancholic eyes.

Nikolai wants to be free from his emotions—you know that now. With how he articulated himself, you found it difficult to not agree with him to some extent when you, yourself did wish that your emotions didn't have so much control over you. But now you find yourself asking what that really means, and what could've pushed him so far to want to rid all of them.

That night, when he opened up to you like he'd never done it before, left you both shocked and touched. Something must've been in the air, something shared, yet something that remained unspoken. You still didn't know what was responsible for making his irises glisten the way they did, but you were thankful for it nonetheless. The way he looked at you, a gaze filled with sincerity that mirrored your own and made you feel like you were floating on the fluffiest of clouds.

Even though he didn't share much of himself with you, you came to terms with it and had even grown comfortable since you could tell he listened to your rambling intently, and putting everything else aside, were just grateful that someone was even there to listen. That's how your days and nights have been for the past week. And ever since you and Nikolai went to the park last week, you've been wanting to ask to spend time like that with him again, but something stopped you every time. You can't fathom why you're so hesitant to ask him when you haven't been so nervous to approach him before.

It felt like all you could think about was Nikolai or relating to him in some way. The images of him laughing and his face reddening had been etched inside your eyelids, uneraseable, that whenever you closed your eyes, it was all you could see. There was no denying how his gaze would soften, how his voice would lose its callousness when caught up in conversations with you.

You didn't realize you were zoning out until your coworker gently interrupted your little reverie, taking the flowers you'd left on the counter, causing you to look up at her in surprise.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of them," she offers, clearly encouraging you to take an early leave so you can tend to your finger. "Go ahead, I'll close up."

"Are you sure? I can wait.." you ask, feeling unsure and guilty about your careless mistake.

"It's alright, go ahead and leave if you want. I'm almost done anyway," she smiles brightly at you, easing your concerns and assuring you that it's okay with her.

So kind. It wasn't often that someone showed you such thoughtfulness, a small gesture that soothed your frazzled nerves.

You exchange a kind smile and reach for your bag before walking away from the counter to the shop's entrance. "Have a good night," you say, glancing over your shoulder just as your hand reaches the door handle.

"You too, honey. I hope your finger feels better soon," she chuckles, her laughter ringing in the air like the door's bell chimes.

On the spur of the moment, as you're leaving the shop, an idea comes to your mind. You thought you would get something for Nikolai to surprise him and maybe brighten his day a little, even if the sun was about to set. The thought makes your heart pound with anticipation, already thinking about the smile that might light up his face when he receives your little gift.

— ✦

A sting of pain courses through your hand as you close your car door.

You notice that Nikolai isn't on the balcony watching the sunset today, and something in you compels you to check on him. Hasty movements make up your walk to the apartment complex, ascending the stairs to reach your door. As you reach the second level, you take a moment to admire the breathtaking hues painting the sky, wishing that someone was here with you to watch the fiery oranges and mild pinks melting into one another. But soon, your eyes avert, and your attention shifts to Nikolai's door.

You take a few steps closer. A hand reaches out to knock but then retracts in nervousness.

What if he's busy? What if you're bothering him? Your anxiety whips these thoughts into your head, nearly immobilizing you. Nonetheless, your hand reaches once again along with a deep breath, and this time, it knocks lightly against the wood.

Silence.

You purse your lips and pull your hand away before looking down at your feet. "Nikolai?" you call out to make yourself known, to let him know that it's you if he's inside.

A few seconds and heartbeats pass before the door creaks open with a slow deliberation, revealing Nikolai. Your face immediately floods with heat as you take in his appearance. He's wearing glasses. You've never seen him wear glasses before, but wow, did he look good in them. It has you wondering if he only reserved this kind of look for indoors, especially when you also notice his pearly hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail instead of the usual braid he wore.

"Hey," he greets you, his voice low. He doesn't say anything else but looks at the steaming cup in your hand, then back to you, his expression curious.

"This is for you!" you exclaim while handing him the cup of tea, your excitement bubbling.

For a fleeting second, you swear you catch a glimmer in his eyes before they turn back to their original state just as quickly.

"Why did you get this for me?" he asks, reaching his hand out. You feel your heart skip a beat when his fingers brush against yours as he grabs the cup, able to feel a heat that isn't coming from the cup of tea. He's warm.

Nikolai feels a strange texture brush against his and that's when he notices your finger is wrapped with a band-aid. His eyebrows knit together at the foreign sight.

"Because I wanted to! It's your favorite, right? Honey lemon tea with ginger?"

Your voice rings with sincerity, a melody that echoes in his mind as the lovely scent of honey-laced lemon permeates the air between you.

"It's your favorite, right?"

Why do you remember that? Why do you take the time and go out of your way to do this for him?

He can try to brush aside the words you just said to him all he wants, but the truth of the matter resonates in the hollow chambers of his heart, reverberating with every pulse of his heartbeat at the fact that you remembered such a small, insignificant detail about him.

"Y-Yeah, it is.." he replies, his voice slightly strained as he tries to tamp down his nervousness with a gentle cough, though he's sure he's failing miserably. "You didn't have to do that."

"Well I already did, so no need to say that," you reply playfully, noting the calmness that settles over his expression. "What are you doing?" you ask with brimming curiousness.

He wants to ignore it. He wants to ignore the way you're standing outside of his door, looking up at him with your doe-like eyes that are so incredibly hard to ignore, drawing him in despite his hesitance when they're practically begging him to ask you to come inside. He wishes he could so badly ignore the warm feeling in his stomach. But he just can't.

"Uh- I was just.." he trails off. Instead, he looks down for a moment before moving aside, creating space for you to enter. "Do you wanna come in?"

He's inviting you inside? You thought that'd never happen.

"Sure!" you happily accept his invitation and step inside his apartment. It doesn't look much different than yours, as the layout of each apartment is identical to one another. You glance around and your eyes first land on the table in his living room, where you notice that there's a whole array of thread and a miscellany of sewing supplies.

The place is clean and orderly, but the air feels thick as if silence itself is holding its breath.

"Did you eat dinner yet?" you ask, your voice sweetly breaking the quiet ambiance as you step further inside. You set your belongings down next to his door before turning to face him.

He nods, his eyes softening as he meets yours. "Yeah, I did," he responds in a voice so faint, you couldn't tell if it was genuine or not.

You pout. "Aw, I could've made you another egg if you hadn't."

"Never again." He laughs when he sees your expression.

With a quiet click, Nikolai closes the door behind you before walking toward the table. He sets his tea down and sits down in the chair where you think he was seated previously, assumably to resume his work. Naturally, you follow suit and pull up a chair next to him.

Nikolai doesn't seem to mind you closely watching him and his hands as he deftly attaches buttons to a soft, cotton shirt. Although if he does, you're not sure you would be able to tell due to how difficult it is not to be captivated by each precise stitch he does and how effortless he makes it look as if he were born for this craft. The cuffs of the sleeves have soft pencil sketches on them that were most likely going to be filled in later with colorful thread, but you couldn’t tell what the abstract drawings were of due to the lines being so faint.

"You like to sew?" you ask, a smile playing on your lips at the idea of someone as intimidating as him having such an innocent hobby.

"Yeah.." he replies, casually tearing off some excess thread with his teeth.

Your heart.

It feels almost wrong to be staring at him like this, but you can't resist doing so, especially when he's so immersed in his task as he is now, the focused look on his face paired with the slight furrow of his brow drawing you in deeper. It feels almost indulgent to be able to look at him. His soft tufts of hair sticking out remind you of dandelion fuzz swaying in a summer breeze. His long eyelashes meticulously framing his eyes looked like they were picked individually and carefully placed on his lids one by one like perfectly arranged petals, noticeable even behind the thin frames of his glasses and enhancing his delicate features.

"Nikolai," you speak his name, each syllable falling from your lips almost unconsciously, the intent behind your words slipping your mind.

He glances at you, curiosity in his gaze. "Hm?"

You're not even doing anything right now, but you feel so incredibly distracted. There are so many words sitting atop your tongue, an amalgamation of things you want to say, yet they don't dare to come out. You shake your head and cast your eyes downward to your hands in your lap, silently conveying to him it was nothing of importance. "When did you learn how to sew?" you ask him instead, tilting your head back up before scooting a little bit closer to him, so subtle that you think he either doesn't notice it or he simply doesn't mind.

"I don't know exactly," he shares with you, a faint smile warming his features like the gentle glow of sunset. "My mom taught me when I was younger."

You smile at his sweet answer. "I've always wanted to learn hand embroidery," you muse to him as you lean your elbow on the table to rest your chin in your hand, eyes sparkling with interest.

He looks at you surprised, taking a moment to pause his actions, needle still clasped between his fingers in one hand, grasping the fabric in the other. "Embroidery?" he repeats, intrigue in his tone discernible as he registers your words.

"Yeah! It looks so cool but seems so hard.." you say, attention riveted toward him. "But maybe I could try it one day."

"Well, you're in luck because I might know how to do a bit of that," he replies with a teasing edge, a sly smile creeping onto his lips.

"Really?" Your excitement ignites anew as your eyes widen. "Do you think you could teach me sometime?" you ask him impulsively, not expecting anything from it.

His laugh echoes in the room, clearly amused as he nods while he's grabbing another button to sew on.

Your admiration brims over as you observe him, unable to contain your amazement. "I didn't know you could do so many things!" you chirped in awe of his talents. "You're so talented."

Nikolai's eyes light up at your sudden compliment, his cheeks taking on a faint pink hue despite his futile attempt to hide it, clearly stunned by the unfiltered praise and astonished by the fact that you're genuinely interested in his hobbies. It feels like ever since he was little, he'd always get picked on for doing things he enjoyed. But now, you're showing him a different kind of attention that he isn't used to.

"Oh.. N-No, I'm not," he stammers with a nervous laugh. He takes a break to sip his tea, not knowing how to respond to your praise without showing too much excitement or sounding like a dork. The tea tastes different today—the sour flavor of the drink overpowers the sweet and leaves a slightly sharper-than-usual bitter taste in his mouth. "You're flattering me too much," he mumbles before setting the cup down.

You smile at how comfortable he looks right now. You think it suits him, so much so that you would do anything to see him like this more often. It feels like you’re being allowed to see a side of him that no one else sees, one that he doesn’t allow anyone else to see. "I'm serious! You said you can do magic tricks too, right?"

He laughs at your enthusiasm. "Who told you that?"

"I don't know, who did?" you respond, your eyebrows raising in response to his playfulness. "Can you juggle?"

"I think you'd be surprised," he smirks, confidence seemingly budding when he hears your interest. "I can do a lot more than that."

"Oh? You have to show me one day," you express earnestly, placing your hand on his arm and squeezing it gently, able to feel his firm muscles that cause your heart to jump a little.

He feels the rough texture of the bandage against his skin again, stirring him from a thoughtful silence. "What happened to your finger?" he asks.

"I accidentally cut it at work.." you explain to him in a murmur, your voice twined with a hint of embarrassment from your confession.

He turns to face you almost immediately when he hears that, almost instinctive. "You hurt yourself?" a tinge of concern laces his voice, and you hardly notice how he inches a bit closer.

Before you can open your mouth to respond, you're caught off guard, slightly startled by a subtle wince and how Nikolai's expression shifts at the sight of his own bleeding finger.

"Shit," Nikolai curses under his breath and clicks his tongue, carefully setting the needle aside using his other hand.

"Now you're the one who hurt yourself," you utter softly, reaching out to gently grab hold of his wrist without a second thought, making Nikolai look at you with widened eyes as if he'd just seen a ghost. For a second, you both are locked in a gaze when your thumb lightly brushes across his wrist. His hand trembles beneath yours before he quickly pulls away, retreating from your touch.

In a rush of motion, he removes the glasses perched on his nose, folding them swiftly before placing them carefully on the table. He leaves his seat after, his movements hurried, but still somehow agile while he strides toward a cabinet in his kitchen. You watch intently as he reaches for something, retrieving a band-aid, the small packaging crinkling quietly in his grasp. He returns to the table and deliberately applies the band-aid to his finger, forming a fist before relaxing his hand again to ease the tension.

"We're matching," you say, giggling at your own comment. Leaning in forward from your chair to get closer to him, you playfully hold your bandaged finger next to his to compare them. "Look, it's even the same finger."

Nikolai's heart is racing. You're so impossibly close to him—he can catch the scent of your shampoo, your perfume, you.

His other hand was right there, hovering nearby indecisively in hesitant temptation. If he possessed the bravery, he could easily place it on the back of your head right now, the impulse that flutters through his mind stirring want and fear in equal measure. However, he tries to deter from that thought and glances back at your hand, still beside his. In comparison, your hand is significantly smaller and more delicate, fingers slim and dainty, looking so soft that he feels almost embarrassed about the texture of his own skin.

So fragile. So cute.

"And to answer your question, it was an accident. I didn't notice that one of the roses I was handling had a thorn, and you can probably guess what came after that," you sigh, a faint frown pulling at your lips as you look down at your bandaged finger, recalling the moment. "It does hurt a little still, but it should go away soon," your voice trails off. "I guess this is what I get for not paying enough attention, though.. I felt so out of it today."

Nikolai doesn't know what compels him to make the next move—but it's a little too late to ponder on that thought now or do anything about it, his hand already on yours. His fingers gently wrap around yours in a tender grip, his thumb providing your bandaged finger extra attention while he lightly rubs it, a complex mix of excitement and fear coursing through his veins as he does so. How he allowed himself to get this close to you is something he isn't sure he wanted to know the answer to, the thrum in his chest drowning out any semblance of restraint or rational reasoning.

Pull away—that should be the obvious move, a natural response, he thinks. But he feels paralyzed, unable to possess control when the shiver of thrill is all he can feel.

You think you could die happy right now.

It feels like you've been waiting your whole life for something like this, and now that you're experiencing it, you can hardly believe it—like a long-suppressed hunger finally being satiated.

You've never been more grateful for a chair in your life, the chair that holds you in place when Nikolai's touch is enough to make your knees buckle. The way your heart is thumping feels almost surreal as if it might burst out of your chest at any moment amidst the dizzying sensation of his skin against yours. You can't bring yourself to look up at him—a timidity numbing you, along with the uncertainty of what he might be looking back at. His grip is strong yet gentle, applying light pressure with each soft stroke of his thumb against your finger that sends electric-like jolts of exhilaration to surge through you, making you want to reach for him, to pull him closer. Your fingers seem to move on their own, inching forward with a haste fueled by ripening desire. You can't help but want to touch him more—and that you do when your finger instinctively curls around his thumb while listening to the soft hitch in his breath, a sound that accelerates your heart rate even more.

You hadn't realized that you'd closed your eyes at some point to savor this heat being shared between the both of you and it's only when you open them again to meet his gaze that the reality of the moment becomes apparent and far too overwhelming—the distance that once separated you has all but evaporated. Your breaths are uneven, trembling on the cusp of anticipation as your lips quiver.

You see it in his eyes—a yearning so delicately veiled that it was hardly noticeable if you weren't looking close enough.

But with all good things, they come to an end. It's a reminder that moments like these are precarious, charged, and so fragile.

"Nikolai?" You tilt your head, confusion clouding your thoughts as you notice how he freezes like he's suddenly caught in a moment of clarity.

Your velvety voice pulls his attention and pulls him back into reality, causing him to realize the situation you both are in. "I'm sorry— I shouldn't have done that." He backs away and withdraws his hand in an instant as if burnt, the sudden absence of contact creating a chill where warmth once lingered.

Don't.

A pout forms on your lips from the release, your hand hopeless for touch as you try to reach for his hand again. "Don't be.. I- I liked it," your voice quavering, betraying your intent to avoid revealing your hidden desperation. But when he pulls his away, it feels like your heart plunges deep into your stomach. You always notice the subtle shifts in his behavior whenever you two have moments when you get close to or look at each other for a second too long as if he doesn't want the moment to prolong, fears it, lest it invite something bad to happen.

Don't leave.

"Nikolai.." you murmur and gently tug on the sleeve of his shirt, causing him to look at you again. The distress on his face is clear as day like he's teetering on the edge of something. You aren't sure what it is, but it startles you. Something bothers him, something doesn't allow him to enjoy these moments, and you fear that if you lose your hold on him now, he will disappear into nothing and only leave you with fading memories.

Don't leave me alone.

His eyes avert quickly. He gets up from his seat and starts cleaning up the table, putting everything away as if restoring order could dispel whatever tension lies between you.

"Nikolai, wait—"

"I'm going to bed soon," he curtly replies before you can finish, warning laced in his voice.

The air turns cold. Yet, you're still determined.

"If you're hurting, I want to make you feel better," you plead, heart aching to reach him someway, somehow, even though he's right beside you. But a dry knot instantly forms in your throat, a tight, anguished grip that makes each breath feel laborious when cold, mean eyes make a return—those same ones you encountered with your first meeting, ones that you haven’t seen since and had hoped were gone forever.

"You make me feel worse."

What?

You aren't sure if you heard him correctly, but with every ragged breath, it becomes clear to you that those words indeed came out of his mouth.

Each second that passed felt like an hour, agonizing and unforgiving.

You can't suppress the small gasp that escapes your lungs, struggling to stabilize your breath when his harsh words wound so deeply, pricking right where you didn't want them to—the tranquility of the moment quickly replaced by a painful reality. You feel unnaturally small and powerless with how you sink into the chair, the weight of his accusation settling over you like a suffocating blanket. It was like the air had been sucked from the room, and you wanted nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow you whole right now in its depths, sparing you from this unbearable heaviness.

The man in front of you feels like a stranger once again.

You knew that Nikolai wasn't exactly the warmest person or anything, but this felt direfully different, like nothing you would ever expect from him—his forwardness felt almost malicious. In an instant, his demeanor shifted, reverting into one as cold as ice. It feels like his warmth diminished in the snap of a finger, any softness replaced with sharp edges as if a mask slipped away to reveal a darker, deeper bitterness that's been hidden from you for who knows how long. The resentment in his voice sounded long-repressed and thick like he’d been waiting to say those words to you for a while.

Does he really think of you that way?

The thought was too tormenting for you to think about. You didn’t think he was capable of such sheer ruthlessness—you don't want to believe it.

Your chest tightens, and you're unable to speak or look at him anymore when a shameful yet painful sting prospers in your eyes. You can feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears, fear gripping you tighter than any physical embrace ever could at the thought of him holding you in such low regard until you're left with nothing but the sickening feeling of worthlessness. It feels like everything good, every joy gets torn away from you, leaving you only with this mortifying realization you've become disturbingly conditioned with, one that overwhelms you with nausea.

Your presence is not wanted.

Never before have you ever felt like more of a burden in your life.

But...

Nothing could hurt more.

I thought...

You don't say anything else, you don't find the words to respond with, because you can't.

What do you even respond to that with?

I thought we were friends.

Your lips part slightly, but nothing spills from your tongue, and your hand drops back down to your side, heavy and defeated, fingers trembling as they brush against the fabric of your jeans. Some strands of your hair fall over the side of your face, thankfully blocking your peripheral vision of the man you're not sure you knew as well as you thought you did. It feels shameful beyond belief—for someone to witness you like this. You don't want him to look at you, as much as you don't want to look at him.

How do you keep finding yourself here? Why is everything your fault?

Silence stretches between you, taut and unyielding, filled with everything you can't even begin to articulate—hurt, humiliation, confusion, a debilitating sense of loneliness that creeps in too quickly for comfort.

Oh, who are you kidding? How irrational to think that, for once, things might turn out differently. The fragile hope you'd built up always collapses inward. You should've expected no different from this. You don't know how many more times it'll take for you to finally realize.

Everyone eventually leaves anyway.

You're never good enough for anyone to stay, and you never will be.

Maybe you were wrong about Nikolai all along. Maybe you should've listened when you were warned not to speak to him the first time. Maybe you were naive to believe that he would even want to be your friend in the first place.

Maybe you should stop trusting everyone so blindly like the idiot you are.

It takes everything, with every ounce of strength fading away, to steady and gather yourself to rise from the chair and make your way toward the door. The distraught thoughts in your mind are too deafening, drowning out any background noise.

Nikolai thinks fear is an understatement.

He wishes he hadn't taken a fleeting glance when he watched you go, so he didn't have to see how you were purposefully hanging your head down to avoid his gaze, so he didn't have to see the hurt in your eyes that weirdly pierces him as well, more than he would ever admit. One look at your face was all he needed to realize he made a huge mistake. The words that had slipped from his lips unbidden were all but partially true, muttered under his breath without warning in a moment of raw frustration—a defensive reaction and a desperate attempt to rebel against these strange, blooming feelings in his chest, to reach light.

Everything falls silent for a moment.

Weak. He's so weak.

As soon as you leave his apartment, he hurriedly closes and locks the door so he won't catch a second glance at you—shutting out the sight of you that makes his heart flutter and hurt all at once. He already feels a familiar heat crawling up his spine with every breath he takes, sweat forming at the nape of his neck, the burn spreading through his skin as if his body was on fire. He wants to crawl out of the flesh that would soon, surely be melted under this unbearable hotness. He wants to scream at the top of his lungs, but nothing escapes him. His hands grip his hair and his eyes squeeze shut in frustration, the quivering of his lip becoming hard to ignore as he bites down hard on it, desperately trying to stifle a sob that was clawing its way up his throat to escape.

He can't begin to comprehend how you managed to pry your way into his life and touch his soul in ways he couldn't understand in such a short duration of time. It deeply terrifies him. Yet, it's not you that he fears. He's scared of how vulnerable and weak he's become, no, how he's always been. He's scared of how vulnerability naturally blossoms around you and the way he crumbles so easily from his own defenselessness. He's scared that your affection will ruin him, and worst of all, he's scared that, deep down, it doesn't bother him if it ends up doing so.

He's scared to fall again.

The scars from his past fall still ache, a painful reminder of everything he's been through. But everything about you is radiant—he can't help but find himself inching closer and closer to the mesmerizing flame that is your presence. He's tasted fire and hesitantly finds himself craving it more and more with each passing minute, no matter how badly the searing heat burns his tongue or until he gets burnt alive.

He's in real trouble.

© kolyasangel 2024 - no reposts. do not copy, steal, or translate. reblogs are appreciated.

[lohotine]

can you do dark cacao x male affogato's priest reader both headcanon and one shot

extra: reader was allowed to stay after after affogato exile because he was the one who noticed his foul intentions first and didn't just mindlessly follow his commands

AN: I'm sorry I finished this kind of late- I was having some MAJOR writers block, but! Look! It's here! I know it doesn't say it in the title, but it IS with male Affagato's priest. There will be some HC in the beginning and the oneshot will be at the bottom. Enjoy♡

Dark Cacao x Male! Reader. HEADCANONS

Warnings: Mentions of injury (very mild)

You were one of very few priests that were allowed to stay after Affogato's exile

You, unlike most, were able to see through his antics

You first met Dark Cacao during a meeting, where people discussed weather or not you should be allowed to stay within the kingdom

At the end of the discussion, you were allowed to stay, although it was ultimately Dark Cacao's input that decided it

You started talking more, and eventually began dating

It took a long time to break his cold shell, but once you did, you realized how much of a softspot he had for you.

Dark Cacao seems like a very cold person to strangers, but you now know a much different side of him

Sometimes you hear people complaining about the obvious favoritism

It makes you laugh

On really cold days, you two will huddle up by a fireplace

He let's you braid his hair a lot

If he ever comes back injured, you'll quickly heal him back up

Not the biggest on pda, but may let you hold his hand if he's in an especially good mood.

Anything you want, you can have

If you ever want to go out, he makes sure you have an escourt

He just doesn't want you to get hurt ♡

Dark Cacao x Male! Reader. ONESHOT

Warnings: None

-Warmth-

Today was an especially cold day in the kingdom. Anyone outside without the proper clothes would get frostbite. That's why you and your boyfriend were huddled inside by the fireplace.

Currently, you were in the middle of braiding his hair.

"Your hair is always so soft." you would chime while not taking your eyes off of your current goal. He would only hum a response, not saying much.

"You know, some workers are upset. They think it's not fair that you're showing so much favoritism towards me. They're jealous." You'd tell him.

Dark Cacao would just keep staring into the fireplace.

"Let them be. You're the only person deserving of my attention." He'd say.

You would smile. "So that's what you think.."

"Is it wrong to think that?"

"I dont think so. I kind of like being your favorite." You would finish the braid you were doing up.

"I'm done." You'd chime.

Dark Cacao would turn his body to face yours, and you would put a hand on his cheek.

"You're so handsome.." you would say quietly while looking into his eyes.

"You flatter me too much, love." He would say as he draped his cape onto your shoulders. You would smile, but not resist whatever plan he had in mind.

Besides.

The warmth of it was nice.

"What's this for?" You would ask him.

"Your hands felt cold, so I assumed you needed something else to keep you warm," Dark Cacao would explain.

You would stand up and do a little twirl. "Do I look nice?"

"You always look nice, my love."

"You do too."

[fantasticalchaos]

Slay the Princess x Ever After High AU

Okay SO— I’ll be quite honest I saw this post thought “hey that kinda reminds me of Slay the Princess— WAIT A SEC”

And here we are! The Elaboration!

Note: the Voices will come in their own post. For now it will be just 3 characters… in a sense: The Narrator, the Princess, and the Player! Contains also my interpretations of the roles. ALSO SPOILERS!!!!!

The Narrator 🪶

As I said in my previous post: Headmaster Milton Grimm would be the Narrator. One reason is that those two give the most gaslighting, gatekeeping and girlbossing characters in their respective series! Not telling everyone the entire story; Keeping them under the wraps and expecting them to follow through with the story/mission. (Milton = Everyone following their prewritten destinies regardless of how horrific and unfair it is. STP Narrator = Follow through with slaying the Princess.)

Second reason is well… spoilerly!

Here’s the rundown for those who don’t know (and mind spoilers)

Originally, the Player/Hero and the Princess were abstract concepts that were once one being. One that is basically the cycle of life and death.

The Princess, who were forced to slay, is the Shifting Mound (aka Shifty for the fans). Shifty is the concept of change, and changes her form to whatever the Player perceives her to be.

Likewise, the Player/Hero is the Long Quiet. The Long Quiet represents stagnation, having everything be alive and remain in its current state. Something that Narrator considers his creation.

The Narrator fears death, which is contained within Shifty. She is not death, but it is contained within her; Death is a natural part of change and life. He also doesn’t like the amount of suffering and chaos that Shifty brings to both him and his world. So, he does everything in his power, and manages to rip apart the two from the cycle… at the cost of his life.

Thus, he trapped the two entities in Construct away from reality, with the Princess as the prisoner (ironically a route you can take with her) and you - the player - the task to finally slay her. In some cases, he’ll even try to take control of you to do complete his dream. Sounds familiar huh? Who else would try to take such drastic measures to ensure it all will work in their favour/plan?

The Princess 👑

The Princess/Shifty… It could be anyone! It’s your choice!

Me personally? My pick would be Raven! Outside of her being my fave, there is a reason why I pick her! Raven’s one of the major characters in the series that challenges destiny!

Both Shifty and Raven wanted to be free! Albeit for different reasons. For Raven, she just wants to be herself and live the way she wants that is not hexpectated from others. Shifty, on the other hand, wants to free herself from the cabin (after being trapped there for so long) and leave.

And while both have their own level of extremities, they will do what they can to reach their goal. (Raven refusing to sign the book, and do little things that are not fit for being the Evil Queen. Shifty… well, let’s say there’s more than how she looks.)

Raven is also a powerful sorcereress in her own right as well! In fact, eventually she gets to overcome the barrier to use her magic for good! Hell, she wasn’t even supposed to use her powers for good; It’s rebelling her role as the Evil Queen! And she only was able to access her magic for good again when she decided to… let’s say sneak up some forbidden books 😉

Also, the Princess is chained to the wall in the cabin when you first encounter her. Who else was chained in a way? Raven, in the reflection at end after taking a peek into her destiny. (Legacy Day)

Scenes that became a core memory for me fr fr number ♾️ (sorry couldn’t help it)

Alternatively, my other pick would be Cerise! Consider it? Cerise is half werewolf, and her parents deviated from the story by falling in love with each other! And they all have to keep it secret lest they get discovered and go poof! And that is dangerous, something that Milton would not approve at all! Again, another individual wayyy stronger than she looks! It’s quite ironic actually… considering her fairytale…

“You’re on a path in the woods. And on that path is a cabin. In that cabin, there is girl in bright red hood. You need to slay her. If you don’t, it will be the end of the world.”

The Player/Hero 🗡️

Again, another one that could be anyone!

For me, it’s Dexter. And, yes I will admit I ship Dexven but I have a legit reason for this lemme cook! Now, we and Dexter himself don’t know his destiny. As in, what his fairytale destiny is; Who and which Prince Charming Dexter is supposed to be. This could work, as the Narrator (Milton) would be giving Dexter his “destiny.”

“Dexter Charming, this is your destiny! Isn’t this what you’ve been wanting to know your entire life once upon a time?”

“Well yeah… but I’m not so sure about—”

“Then I have full faith in you in carrying out your destiny. It is rather important destiny. It is for the greater good for all fairytales”

“But slaying a princess?!? I can’t imagine pulling through that…”

And the conflict with what Dexter knows about being the hero and a Prince Charming???? Yes, he’s supposed to be prince/knight in shining armour and save the day! But slaying a princess to do it??? What??? He’s also taught to save princesses and damsels in distress, not slay them! What will he do?

Additionally, Dexter can also be the Voice of the Hero too! Speaking of which… I will do the Voices in a separate post *rubs hands together with my chef hat* c:

Before we end things here, I will say this:

You don’t have to choose these characters (especially for the Princess and the Player/Hero roles) as there are no wrong choices. No wrong answers. These are my interpretations, and you have your own! This is a love story (au) with any of your EAH ships - and have fun with it! 🤗

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 30

You, Joel and Ellie come to new understandings following Tess' death. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-29 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: None for this chapter! No use of Y/N. Whole fic is violent and smutty so Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 4.7k

“Should stop here for the night,” Joel said. 

It was the first thing any of you had said in hours. The sun was setting, the woods around you were stilling. 

You’d made it a few miles outside the city, the three of you trudging more than walking. You were glad that Ellie had been quiet. It wasn’t her usual way and you really didn’t want her pushing Joel’s buttons, not right that moment. You only really needed to get through the next day with him, that was all. Even though thinking of everything after that made your chest hurt.

The two of you followed Joel off the trail to a level patch of ground. He dropped his pack and just looked at you for a moment. 

“Need a minute,” he said eventually, stalking off in the woods. 

“Shouldn’t have just left her like that,” Ellie muttered, plopping down by a tree and leaning back against it with a sigh. 

“There’s nothing we could have done,” you said quietly. She looked at her own arm, which you’d patched up once you were clear of the city. “Ellie.” She looked at you. “You couldn’t have fixed her. It’s not on you. None of this is on you.” 

She tensed her jaw and looked back down at her arm. You sighed. 

It wasn’t Ellie’s fault but it was yours. You sat down, away from Ellie, and leaned back against a tree, closing your eyes. If you weren’t so fucking useless out here… 

You saw the infected go for Joel and you’d just reacted. Shooting it probably hadn’t been smart but it had been instinctual. He was in danger. It didn’t matter that Joel would have been better at handling it than you, you had a gun and you could handle it now, you could kill it or draw it away from him and that’s what mattered. For a second, you forgot that you had to protect Ellie, too. For a second, you’d only been worried about him. 

And then the gun jammed. 

All you’d been able to do was watch the clicker come for you and throw Ellie out of the way. You hadn’t thought to try to reach your knife after you threw her, didn’t have any other option but to try to hold the clicker back, you weren’t strong enough to shove it off you. Its snarling, gnashing teeth and fungus enveloped face were inches from your skin when Ellie hurled herself at it, her insignificant weight nothing when compared to the large, now inhuman body that was crushing yours. Tess had been all but forced to step in, knocking the thing away from you. All because you’d been fucking stupid. 

In hindsight, your last conversation with Tess made infinitely more sense. 

You’d sent Joel and Ellie on ahead - wanting to put distance between both of them and the museum - while you worked on Tess’ ankle. 

“Let me know if what I’m doing hurts,” you said, gently taking off her battered boot. “The goal is to make sure we can get you to walking comfortably. We’ll see if the Fireflies have something that can set you up better for a long trip…” 

She looked you over for a moment, her back against the building as you checked her ankle. 

“Shouldn’t have yelled at you,” she said. You glanced up at her. “That day, at the clinic. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

You shrugged, going back to work. 

“Wasn’t like I was being a particularly nice person,” you replied. “I deserved it.” 

She looked at you again. 

“He did it to protect you,” she said. You looked up from her ankle. “Joel insisting on taking Andrew. He did it to protect you. The raiders were getting bad and the worst thing a raider will do to a man is kill him. Maybe torture him first if he’s got something they’re after but shot quick is how it goes. Women they take. He wasn’t willing to risk that, not with you.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” You asked after a moment, grabbing a bandage from your pack and starting to wrap her ankle now that it was properly aligned. 

“Because he’s too much of a fucking idiot to tell you himself,” she said. “He’s always been an idiot when it comes to you. He’s my best friend, he’s been my best friend for a decade and a half and one of the most consistent things about the man is that he’s a fucking idiot when it comes to you.” 

“Are you sure he’s not just an idiot when it comes to most things?” You teased, glancing up at her, but her face was serious. You frowned, pausing your work, holding her ankle. “Tess, are you OK?” 

“I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’m just tired of him fucking things up with you. If everything is going to change then you should at least know that he wasn’t trying to be an asshole. He was trying to protect you.” 

You sighed and went back to wrapping her ankle. When you finished the job, you helped her put her boot back on, tying the top as snug as she could bare to help support the wrap. 

“At least you’re going to have at truck and you won’t be walking it to wherever the hell Tommy wound up,” you said, helping her to her feet. “And now you have a great excuse to just make Joel drive the whole way…” 

She smiled grimly at that. You took a few practice steps with her to make sure her feet were under her before you started going over the board, Tess taking the crossing one slow step at a time. 

When you were both across, she looked at you again. 

“I feel like if things had been different, you and I would have been friends,” she said. And then she frowned. “Or better friends, I guess. You’re kind of the closest thing I have to a friend besides Joel.” 

“Me too,” you half smiled at her. “We can always try now. Bit hard given everything but…” 

“You still care about him,” she said. “Don’t you?”

You frowned at her.

“Are you sure, you’re OK?” You asked. 

“Doc.” 

“Yeah,” you looked straight ahead. “I’m always going to care about him, I’m always going to love him…” 

She nodded before cutting you off. 

“I need a favor,” she said, stopping in the street and looking at you. You stopped, too, your frown deepening. “If… If something happens to me, I need you to make sure he’s OK.” 

“Tess, I’m not exactly a survivalist…” you replied but she shook her head. 

“Not that way, he’ll be fine that way,” she said. “He needs someone. Right now, I’m who he has but he can’t survive without both of us. He needs someone. If something happens to me you need to make sure he’s OK.” 

“Tess…” You were going to fight her on it. Tell her that you were pretty sure he didn’t WANT you to be someone to him, but she didn’t let you. 

“Promise me.” 

You sighed but she squared her jaw and fixed her eyes on you, like she was ready for a fight. 

“Promise me!” 

“OK!” You said quickly. “OK, I’ll make sure he’s OK. I’ve come running to patch him up enough times. I think you know that I’m always going to try to make sure he’s OK.” 

She looked relieved. 

“Good,” she nodded, a sense of finality to it, and she headed for the statehouse. 

She had known, of course. She’d been bitten and she had hours left, at best. And she’d tried to make sure Joel was going to be OK. 

How the fuck were you supposed to make sure Joel was OK? 

He eventually returned from wherever he’d gone, still silent. He sat against a tree. After a bit, you went in your bag and got out what food you had. You gave some to Ellie, who crinkled her nose a bit at it, and tried to hand some to Joel. He just stared at it. 

“You’ve got to eat something,” you said. He looked up at you. You wanted to apologize but didn’t want to push him too far. “It’s been a long day.” 

He took it. You sat down again. 

It was so quiet you could hardly bear it, Ellie eventually sighing and laying down, using her backpack as a pillow. Joel got up and draped his jacket over her before turning to you. 

“Get some rest,” he said, his voice flat. “I’ll keep watch. Won’t be able to sleep anyway.” 

“Joel,” you said softly. He just shook his head. 

It wasn’t a restful night for you. Your dreams were filled with snarling, inhuman things that were always outside your control but never outside someone else’s. When you jerked awake, the sun was just starting to rise, the horizon blood red and purple. 

Ellie was still asleep under a tree, her face tight. She probably wasn’t sleeping well, either. Joel was sitting, back to you, on a log. 

You quietly got into your bag and found the notebook you’d tucked your pictures into. You found the one with Tess before heading for Joel. 

He glanced up at you when you went to join him but didn’t say anything. 

“I’m really sorry, Joel,” you said quietly. He sniffed, staring straight ahead. “She really cared about you. I know you cared about her…” You weren’t sure what to do with the gnawing guilt inside you, just that you couldn’t give it to him. “I’m here, if you need it.” 

You handed him the picture. He looked at it and it hurt too much to be beside him then. 

“I’ll be back in a bit,” you said. You didn’t wait for a response, desperate to put some space between you and Joel while you could get it. 

***

“Where’s Doc?” 

The kid’s voice was sleepy. The sun was fully up now. 

“Said she’d be back soon,” he said gruffly. 

“Oh,” she slumped back against the tree, the hair that had come out of her ponytail frizzy and wild around her face. She looked down at her lap, frowning for a second before looking back at him. “Want your jacket back?” 

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t particularly feel like saying anything. The kid just sighed heavily, got up and brought him the jacket, dropping it on his pack before stomping back toward the tree she’d slept against. He ground his teeth. 

Where the fuck were you? 

He wasn’t sure what time it was. He wasn’t great at gauging how much time had passed since you’d left camp that morning. His mind wasn’t quite keeping up with things. He’d looked at the picture of Tess for a long time. She looked happy there. Happier than she ever really looked in the years he’d known her. 

“About Tess,” the kid said. 

“Don’t want to hear it,” he snapped. 

“Well that’s too damn bad,” she snapped back. “It sucks that she’s dead but it’s not my fault and it’s not Doc’s. You and Tess decided to take us, we didn’t make you and Marlene didn’t make you. So don’t blame us because shit got bad. It’s not our fault so don’t pretend like it is.” 

He just looked at her for a moment. She was right. He knew she was right. But then, he hadn’t planned on blaming either of you, anyway. No, this fell on him. 

Him, stepping on the fucking glass. Him, not able to kill the damn thing before you intervened. Him, giving you a gun that jammed. Him, not able to get to you in time so Tess stepped in. 

Him failing, failing, failing. Tess dying. 

You came out of the trees, arms crossed tightly over yourself. 

“Let’s go,” he said, voice gruff. “We’ve got about a five hour hike ahead of us.” 

Joel led the way. Ellie had, apparently, decided one day of quiet was enough and started asking questions. 

Mercifully, most of them were directed at you. The kid had never been out in nature before and it seemed like she had every fucking question in the world about it. 

“So why haven’t we seen more animals?” 

“How old are these trees, anyway?” 

“Why was it just humans and not deer and shit who got infected?” 

It was almost like watching you teach a class. You patiently answered all her questions, making sure she understood the root concepts you were using to respond to her. Part of her, it seemed, was just hungry to be acknowledged, have her thoughts recognized and understood. He could understand that. Sympathize with it.

And then she turned to the more personal questions. 

“So,” she turned at walked backwards, facing the two of you. “Who’s Tommy?” 

She raised her eyebrows, almost singing his name. Like she was trying to get under your skin. You groaned. 

“It really doesn’t matter,” you said. 

“I mean I think it does since you were apparently fuck…” 

“What have I said about language?” You cut her off. 

“That you don’t like swearing in your classroom and that there are appropriate times to swear,” the kid said matter-of-factly. “But we’re not in your classroom and that seemed appropriate to me.” 

“Ellie,” you sighed. 

“What?” She said. “C’mon, I didn’t know you had a boyfriend!” 

“He hadn’t been my boyfriend in a very long time,” you replied. “There was no reason he would have told me where he was going. He would have been more likely to tell Joel…” 

“Joel,” her nose crinkled. “Why.” 

“He’s my brother,” he ground his teeth. 

“Ohhhhh,” she said, turning back around to face forward again. “So THAT’S how you know each other, OK…” 

“That’s not…” you began and then seemed to think better of it. But you didn’t stop yourself fast enough for Ellie. 

She turned back around. 

“So how DO you know each other then,” she asked. 

“Why do you want to know?” Joel asked, before looking at you. “Kids always ask this many questions?” 

You just raised your eyebrows at him. 

“If I’m going to be traveling with you two for a while…” Ellie began. 

“Just goin’ to Bill and Frank’s,” Joel cut her off. 

“Whatever,” she waved him off. “I’m the one stuck traveling with you two and you’ve got some kind of problem with each other. Kinda shitty for me to have to tiptoe around a problem when I don’t even know what the problem is.” 

She just looked at you both, brows raised, thumbs looped through her backpack straps. You glanced at Joel. He sighed. 

“Knew each other before,” he said eventually. 

“Like you were friends?” She asked. 

Joel ground his teeth. 

“We were friends,” you replied. 

“Just friends.” She sounded skeptical. You glanced at him again and it was a long enough pause that her mouth formed a small “o” before she started to laugh. “And you went out with his brother! Man, Doc, who knew you had it in you…” 

You groaned. Joel resisted the urge to smile. Maybe the kid’s questions weren’t ALL bad. 

“So is that how you got that scar on your head?” She asked Joel. “Get punched by your brother over a girl?” 

She was teasing him. He ground his teeth. 

“No,” he said, looking for something to say. He had never even told you what happened, certainly wasn’t about to tell some fuckin’ kid. “Someone shot at me and missed.” 

“Did you shoot him?” She asked, voice serious again. 

“No,” he replied. “I missed, too. Happens more often than you’d think.” 

“Because you suck at shooting?” 

Joel glared at her. She just rolled her eyes, facing forward again. 

Joel led the three of you to a gas station that had become a hiding spot for supplies between Boston and Lincoln. Ellie went deeper inside while you looked over the shelves, not that there was much left. You picked up an old magazine, idly flipping through it.

“Anything good?” Joel asked. 

“JLo and Ben Affleck called off their wedding,” you said, turning a page. “Too bad, too. Thought those kids were going to make it…” 

Joel snorted. 

It took Joel a second to find just where he’d stashed things, but an overturned shelf was on it now. 

“Help me move this,” he called you over. You just nodded and picked up one side of it, getting it just far enough that he could access the floorboard. He kicked aside some of the remains from the shelf - mostly trash - but stopped when he noticed you staring down at something. 

You’d all but frozen where you stood, a granola bar wrapper crumpled on the floor. You looked like you were about to cry. 

“You OK?” He frowned. 

“Fine,” you said quickly, picking up the wrapper and booking it for the door. “Just need some air, I’ll be outside.” 

Joel looked toward the door Ellie had gone through for a moment before going after you. 

You were pacing the parking lot, looking at the fucking wrapper. You were crying. 

“Hey,” he said. Your head snapped up. You sniffed and wiped your tears, trying to hide it. “What’s going on.” 

“Nothing,” your voice was thick. 

“Not nothing.” He nodded to the wrapper. “Why’s that upset you.” 

“Just haven’t seen one of these in 20 years, that’s all,” you said, not looking directly at him. 

“Never seen you cry over trash before,” he said. “Why’s it upset you.” 

“These stupid things are all I could eat when I was pregnant, OK?” You said quickly, almost angrily. But then you looked up at him, almost like you were scared of what he’d say. “I’m sorry, I know it’s… it’s a sore subject but… I had just fucking awful morning sickness, I couldn’t hold down anything but Clif bars and I haven’t seen them in 20 years and I hadn’t thought about that in so long and… It’s probably the reason I wasn’t infected to begin with, these were all I was eating. It’s what me and Andrew survived on, I had a whole stash at the house that I brought with me… It just caught me off guard, that’s all. I’m sorry.” 

He just stood there, looking at you for a moment, the wrapper still in your fingers. He realized then that he’d actively avoided picturing you at that time. What it would have been like for you to make your way to Boston 20 years ago, especially knowing all that he knew now. But he imagined that you would have looked then much like you did now - small, vulnerable, scared. Part of you hurting and trying to hide it. It made his heart ache. 

“Can I hold you?” He asked. Your eyes met his, surprised. 

“You don’t have to…” you said, but he shook his head. 

“I want to,” he said. “If you’ll let me.” 

You didn’t say anything. You just kept your eyes on him and moved slowly, cautiously, until your face was against his chest, his chin on top of your head. His arms went around you, pulling you tightly to him. He could feel you breathing like this, the shuddering of you against him as you cried. He cradled your head to his chest and breathed you in, the last of the smell of your shampoo clinging to your hair through the wilderness and smoke and sweat. 

“Ew!” Ellie came stomping outside a few minutes later. “See, this is why I needed to know what the problem was, apparently can’t leave you two alone for five fucking minutes…” 

You pulled back from him, still sniffing a bit but no longer crying. You tucked the wrapper in your pocket. 

“What, Gremlin? Want a hug, too? Feeling left out?” You smiled at her, your arms out. Ellie backed away, shaking her head, trying not to smile. “Come on…” 

You drew the last word out and jumped at her, making her yelp and laugh before hiding behind a dilapidated gas pump. Joel felt himself smile a little before he realized he was doing it as he went inside to find his things. 

“Are Bill and Frank nice?” Ellie asked as they neared Lincoln. 

“Frank is,” Joel muttered. “Bill’s… Bill.” 

“I’m surprised you don’t get alone with him better, honestly,” you said, looking up at Joel. He frowned. “Birds of a feather and all that.” 

“Oh so Bill’s an asshole,” Ellie nodded sagely. “Got it.” 

You snorted. Joel glared at you. You smiled a little back at him. It felt almost normal, almost like how life had been before. He’d missed it. 

Lincoln was oddly quiet when the three of you arrived. Joel glanced down at you and he knew you felt it, too, a slight frown on your face. He waved to the camera but didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he just keyed in the code Bill had given him. 

“Don’t leave the fenced area,” he ordered Ellie. “Not only are there sometimes infected and raiders in the woods, Bill’s got the perimeter booby trapped to hell and back…” 

“Right, stay in town and don’t go looking for any fucking clickers,” she rolled her eyes. “Got it.” 

Joel kept his weapon drawn as he made his way toward the house, looking behind him to make sure you’d shut the gate and were following, too. 

He realized then some of what had made him uneasy. The plants in the planters had gone brown and were drooping. The grass was yellowing. Things that Frank never would have let happen. 

“Shit,” he muttered. He looked behind him again. “Stick close.” 

He knocked, hard, on the front door. There was no response but it was unlocked. He let himself in. 

“Frank?” He yelled. “Bill?” 

There were still plates on the table, the remains of the food rotting. 

“Ugh,” Ellie crinkled her nose. 

You frowned, going for the kitchen. You opened the fridge. 

“Definitely been a bit since they were here,” you said. “Probably a week at least, you know how Bill was with cooking and labeling things…” 

Joel started peering through the house, searching for some sign of where they’d gone, when they might return…

“Hey guys?” Ellie called from the dining room. He got to the room at the same time as you. Ellie was sitting at the table, her legs propped up on another chair. She held up a piece of paper and you frowned, going to look over her shoulder. “It said ‘to whomever but probably Joel’ so… I figured I was allowed to open it.” 

He came to her shoulder as well. She looked up at the two of you before she started reading. 

“If you find this… please do not come into the bedroom. We left a window open so the house wouldn’t smell, but it will probably be a sight. 

“I’m guessing you found this, Joel, because anyone else would’ve been electrocuted or blown up by one of my traps. Hehehehehehehehe. Take anything you need. The bunker code is the same as the gate code but in reverse. Anyway… I never liked you, but still, it’s like we’re friends… almost. And I respect you. So, I’m gonna tell you something because you’re probably the only person who will understand. I used to hate the world, and I was happy when everyone died. But I was wrong because there was one person worth saving. That’s what I did. I saved him. Then I protected him.

“That’s why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do. And God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep…”

You were gone before she could say Tess’ name. Ellie just looked up at him, her eyes wide. Almost like she wanted to say she was sorry but wasn’t sure how. 

He took the letter from her and went outside, too. He looked for you for a moment and caught a glimpse of you heading for the pharmacy. He took a deep breath, looking down at the paper again, remembering what you’d said about him and Bill. That they were the same. 

He may have been different once, back when he first fell in love with you. Back when he felt capable of it. He’d become more like Bill since then. But there were still small glimpses of who he’d been before, of the man who thought that life was worth it. They were almost all with you. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t care about Tess. He did. There was a knot in his chest, knowing that he’d failed her. If he could have changed it, traded places with her, he would have. In a heartbeat. And the world would have been better for it. 

But she wasn’t who he was here to save. She never had been, and both of them had known it. 

He still felt it when he held you. That there was something he’d been built for, made to do: protect you. Before, that meant picking you up after a shitty date with a bad guy or making sure you didn’t overdo it when you got your appendix out. It had meant lifting your suitcase onto the scale at the airport when you flew home because he didn’t want you moving something heavy. Now, it was different. Now, it meant killing what scared you or threatened you.

Now, it meant getting you and an immune girl across a wasteland of infected and raiders in one piece. 

He poked his head back in the house and found Ellie, now standing at the piano. 

“Stay in the house,” he ordered, before going to find you. 

He found you quickly. You were in the pharmacy, rifling through the shelves. Because Bill had locked down the town so early, there was still plenty left. Almost everything you hadn’t taken after FEDRA had stopped producing certain things was still there, minus what Bill and Frank had used through the years. 

You turned and jumped when you saw him, your hand going to your heart. 

“Scared me,” you said. Your eyes were shiny with tears, rimmed in red. 

“You OK?” He asked. You just nodded, going back to sorting through medications, your back to him. “Hey,” he said after a minute. “Talk to me.” 

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you said, turning to face him. You leaned back against the counter behind you, your fingers digging into it so hard your knuckles were white. “I fucked up, I got her killed…” 

“No,” he shook his head. “You didn’t.” 

“If I’d just…” 

“Not your fault,” he said again. His voice was gentle, his eyes wide and you couldn’t seem to bring yourself to look at him. You were looking at a half empty shelf of drugs instead, your cheeks wet. 

You took a deep, shaky breath, before actually looking at him. 

“I’m going to get her there,” you said, your voice surprisingly steady. “I’m not sure how yet but I can take a few days here, make a plan…” 

“I’m taking you,” he cut you off. You frowned at him. 

“Joel, no,” you shook your head. “No, I can’t ask you…” 

“You’re not,” he replied. “I’m tellin’ you. You’re not doing this just you and her, you’ll get yourselves killed and then what the fuck would be the point. I’m takin’ you.” 

You took a deep breath and he could tell that you were getting ready to argue with him so he cut you off. 

“I already need to find Tommy,” he said. “Come with me. He knows where the lab is, right? You said he tried to get you to come there, said it was nice? We’ll find him, he can get you to the lab.” 

You looked at him for a moment, eyes still glistening. 

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore, Joel,” you whispered. 

“Then let me get you there,” he said softly, stepping closer to you until he was right in front of you. “Don’t make me lose you, too.” He could feel the heat of you against him, could smell your skin. You looked up at him for a moment before you just nodded and pressed your face into his chest. He put his arms around you for the second time that day. 

“I’m going to get you there,” he said. “I promise.” 

A/N: About to get on the road to Kansas City! As an FYI, we're going to get some stuff fairly in line with canon through that, then have a stretch of all OC shit for a bit. I hope everyone is enjoying this weird smushing it together thing I'm doing because I'm having fun with it!

I have a taglist, please comment below if you'd like to be added or if you've already asked but I slacked off and didn't add you like a chump.

Thank you, as always, for reading and spending time with these characters and my work! All your love for it has made this such a joy to share and I couldn't love you more!

Taglist: @paleidiot @ayamenimthiriel @ginger-swag-rapunzel @drewharrisonwriter @flugazi @pedropascalsbbg @taoyuji @starstruckmusiciansartghost @splendsay @bigboiseason123 @jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10 @sloanexx @ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn @hufflepuffriver @sarap-77 @storyarcscribe @mellymbee @jasminedragoon @lemonmeli @reds-ramblings @arizonadaydreamer @mumma-moonchild @blackroseguzzi @candypeaches16 @kittenlittle24 @wrappedinfiction @oatmeaiboy @pedritosdarling @winchestergypsy90 @imnotdatboii @lalalalemonade11

[grailfinders]

Grailfinders Viewers' Choice #30 A: Maxwell's Demon

great news everyone! life stopped kicking my ass quite as hard, so we’re back and better than ever! or at least, more employed than ever. still, that means Grailfinders is back on the menu, and to celebrate we’re solving that little tie we left off with by making both of them!

first off, we have the impossible servant, Maxwell’s Demon, a nigh-immortal impossible thought experiment that can produce infinite energy. the nigh-immortal part is actually pretty easy, that’s a regular tuesday for most wizards. the hard part is going against WotC’s entire design ethos to make a character that can’t use any of his own magic.

obviously making a character that can’t help himself in D&D is impossible, but we picked spells so you can at least have plausible deniability. outside of the immortality stuff, all your spells can’t deal direct damage and/or can be used to empower your party members. that means the most powerful buffs like Tenser’s Transformation are off the table since they only work on the caster, but we've still got plenty to work with.

anyways, Maxwell’s Demon is a Transmutation Wizard to buff the party with near-infinite magical power, and a Clockwork Soul Sorcerer to reflect that he’s more part of a thought experiment than an actual person.

check out his build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet here!

(also idk where else to put this, but we’re not using the new ruleset for builds atm. maybe after more options come out?)

Species and Background

Maxwell’s background is a bit weird, but you got your life’s goal from your “father” for better or worse, so we’re torturing the Inheritor background to fit for proficiency in Survival and Arcana.

unfortunately, demons still aren’t a playable species in D&D, but while Tieflings are technically the closest thing, I’m instead going to make Maxwell’s Demon a Fire Genasi. y’know, on account of the thermodynamics. as such, he gets +2 Constitution and +1 Intelligence, as well as some Darkvision to clown on humans with their dumb human eyes, Fire Resistance so you don’t die in the process of spiting the second law, and your only offensive capabilities for quite some time, Reach into the Blaze. if Max can control thermodynamics he should be able to set fire to just about anything, but I’m not going to argue this point too much. we’re using the rules from the Elemental Evil Player’s Companion here, so that means you get Produce Flame for free, as well as Burning Hands once a day at third level, both of which use your Constitution. normally this is a bit awkward for casters, but today…

Ability Scores

we’re still using the standard array- you can roll if you want to, just keep that intelligence and charisma above 13. that being said, your highest score is actually Constitution. since all your spells are for your allies, we really don’t have to care about being “good” at “casting” them in this build, which is surprisingly freeing. we do still need Charisma and Intelligence next, in that order, for multiclassing. infinite energy is inherently charismatic, a lot of people want it. after that, Dexterity. I know Maxwell’s immortality comes from people not being able to hit him, but we have magic for that. that means your Strength is pretty low, but we’re dumping Wisdom. as of the time of writing, the second law of thermodynamics still stands strong, so Maxwell’s Demon is an impossibility. so him existing probably screws around with common sense a bit. maybe that’s why GudaGuda’s like that…

Class Levels

1. Wizard 1: starting off strong, Maxwell is a Wizard, which gets him proficiency with Intelligence and Wisdom saves, as well as History and Insight. he is literally a part of history as all servants are, but he’s also literally someone’s insight. kind of.

but that’s not all! wizards also get Spells! god, do they get spells. six spells now, plus two more every time you level up, plus whatever other spells you toss into your spellbook from other wizards! you can only prepare spells based on your Intelligence, so you can’t use every spell everywhere all at once, but you can swap your prepped spells every day. you also get Arcane Recovery, letting you regain some spell slots on a short rest instead of the usual long one.

and we are going over every spell in the build this time, since making sure you can’t actually fight things is pretty important. that means the wordcount for this build is gonna be huuuge. starting off, you get cantrips like Prestidigitation to use your infinite power in itty-bitty ways, as well as Message to charge a cellphone and call people, and Mending. the discovery of infinite power will be like a second industrial revolution, and that’s all the justification I need to give you some building spells. also because wizard has entirely too many spells for me to just do buffs.

for your spells, Distort Value can make any item look worth more or less money for a short while- perpetual motion machines look cool, but they’re actually bullshit. still, that’s the buyer’s problem. you also get the standard suite of low-level buffs, Feather Fall, Jump, Longstrider, and Mage Armor, which I obviously expect you to only use on others as per the build’s guidelines. also, you can Detect Magic like basically every servant can, somehow.

2. Wizard 2: second level wizards can learn from the school of Transmutation, making them Transmutation Savants. that means adding transmutation spells into your book from sources other than your level-ups are cheaper and faster. yet again, why they incentivize every wizard to not grab the spells they specialize in, I’ll never know.

but at least you also get Minor Alchemy, letting you turn nonmagical wood, stone, iron, copper, or silver into another material from that list. it takes a while to turn anything, and it only lasts an hour, but it’s not like this was a major part of the build anyway. it’s just a stepping stone on the way to bigger and better things!

speaking of, you can now cast the only debuffs I grabbed this build, purely bc most 1st level spells are focused on things like “actually being able to fight” and nonsense like that. Color Spray lets you power on a tv to blind people who were sitting too close, and Charm Person tricks people into thinking they can defy the second law of thermodynamics, so they’ll be friendly to you for a bit. but of course, eventually reality sets in and they’ll know they’ve been had.

3. Wizard 3: third level wizards get second level spells. Enhance Ability gives someone advantage on one kind of skill check for a minute, and Enlarge/Reduce can make one person smaller, or more importantly bigger. you might not be able to turn the main villain into a giant goo monster yet, but you can turn them into a giant. that’s 1/3 of the way there. progress, baby!

4. Wizard 4: at fourth level you get your first Ability Score Improvement, and the Resilient feat will both round out your Constitution score and give you proficiency with Constitution Saves, so you’re less likely to drop support spells you set up! spells like, say, Light, or more likely Magic Weapon or Darkvision. the former gives a flat bonus to the damage and accuracy of a weapon for an hour, while the latter gives a creature darkvision for up to eight hours, a spell usually so useless I literally didn’t know it existed until today.

5. Wizard 5: third level spell time! Haste is a classic, doubling your target’s movement speed, giving them an extra action each turn (with some caveats tbf), adding to their AC and giving advantage on dexterity saves, all for the low low cost of making them waste a turn when the spell ends. we don’t really have a way to deal with that, but you can also use Catnap to speed up a short rest, turning an hour-long snoozefest into a pulse-pounding ten minutes.

6. Wizard 6: sixth level trans wizards can create the Transmuter’s Stone over the course of eight hours. upon creation you can make its wielder gain Darkvision, proficiency in Constitution Saves, extra movement, or resistance to one kind of elemental damage. and of course, this can then be given to another party member, though while it’s on your person you can cast a transmutation spell to swap the bonus.

you also get more spells like Fly! again, not allowed to use this on yourself, but flight is super useful. you can also Dispel Magic, which usually does a lot more, but today it’s just to make your party members make their saves on long-lasting spells.

7. Wizard 7: seventh level wizards get fourth level spells like Polymorph! boom, giant goo monsters are now on the table. and the floor, and everywhere, that’s kind of how giant goo monsters work. you can also cast Blink… on yourself! The scandal! it just means that every time you end your turn, there’s a fifty percent chance you cease to exist as far as most enemies are concerned. it doesn’t even use concentration, so you can buff and disappear at the same time!

8. Sorcerer 1: bouncing over to sorcerer now for another list of Spells. you don’t need to prep these, but they use your Charisma instead of intelligence. also, since you’re a Clockwork Soul, you get Clockwork Magic for even more free spells! though now that you’re multiclassing, you’ll have to check the player’s handbook to see how many spell slots you’ve got each level.

as a start, you get plenty of cantrips like Blade Ward for even more survivability, and then True Strike, Mold Earth, and Shape Water, the lacroix of magic. if you focus, it’s almost like a cantrip. as for actual magic, Silvery Barbs technically makes an enemy worse, but you can argue it just makes your ally better twice, and that’s a good deal. you can also Absorb Elements now, which can technically deal damage but again it’s here for survivability.

also, your clockwork magic gets you Alarm and Protection from Evil and Good for free to protect your party from evil and good. and also neutral, with alarms.

you can also Restore Balance as a reaction, which is the exact opposite of what Maxwell’s Demon does, but if he can do it, he can probably undo it. basically, you make your party’s rolls that would be at disadvantage be at regular amounts of vantage. you can also counter the advantage of an enemy, but that breaks rule 1 of Demoning, so don’t do that! wink.

anyways, you can do that proficiency times a short rest.

9. Sorcerer 2: a second level sorcerer is a Font of Magic, so you can now spend Sorcery Points to recharge spell slots as a bonus action, or turn spell slots into points. you only have enough points to recharge one 1st level slot and the points do nothing else, so it’s not super interesting just yet.

you can also… Disguise Self? I guess? every servant in the world can sense magic but the infinite power glitch was hidden until the final boss fight, so you had to have some way of hiding yourself.

10. Sorcerer 3: third level sorcerers get Metamagic, a way to make sorcery points fun! now you can spend them to add extra effects to your spells, and thanks to the way they’re worded, they work on wizard spells too! most of them only care about fightin’ spells, but the ones we want are still super useful- Twinned and Extended Spells- these double the number of targets (from 1 to 2) or the duration of the spell, respectively. we’re not grabbing any warlock slots, so it’s important that we use our finite power well enough to make it look like infinite power.

speaking of, you can now cast Invisibility which does exactly what you’d think, as well as Aid to give allies extra HP, or Lesser Restoration to remove minor status effects from them. and only them. don’t even think about using it on yourself.

11. Sorcerer 4: use this ASI to bump up your Dexterity for some extra AC. that’s also why we’re grabbing the Gust Barrier cantrip, to make ranged attacks have disadvantage to hit you. and… I guess Levitate? I mean, it’s not as good as fly, but it still gets people out of harm’s way. and it’s cheaper!

12. Sorcerer 5: fifth level sorcerers get Magical Guidance, letting them spend sorcery points to reroll skill checks. don’t use this for that though, your points will be at a premium the whole time. and with third level spells you can get… Water Breathing? I guess? Sorcerer really isn’t nearly as chockablock with support spells as wizard, and it’s starting to show. still, you get another way to cast Dispel Magic, freeing it from preparation purgatory, and Protection from Energy.

13. Sorcerer 6: sixth level clockwork souls have the whole reason we dipped into sorcerer, the Bastion of Law. congrats, you now have infinite protection to match your infinite power! and by infinite, I mean you can protect yourself for 5d8 damage at most, if you spend almost all your sorcery points in one go.

also you get Water Walk! I mean Jesus could do it, and you’re kind of a walking holy grail, right?

14. Wizard 8: finally back in wizard, and now we can get another ASI for even more Dexterity. if that’s not enough added toughness, you can use Stoneskin to give yourself or an ally resistance to all physical damage, or give them Greater Invisibility to stay unseen even while attacking.

15. Wizard 9: ninth level wizards get fifth level spells. Fabricate makes you a one-man industrial revolution, turning raw materials into finished goods pretty dang fast. on the support front, Skill Empowerment lets you turn one ally’s proficiency into expertise for up to an hour. I don’t know why that’s worth a 5th level spell slot, but it’s support!

16. Wizard 10: tenth level trans wizards are Shapechangers, so now once per short rest you can cast polymorph on yourself for free, as long as you pick a beast of CR 1 or less. again, not really your deal, but it’s technically extra HP?

more on brand, you get Dancing Lights, your last cantrip. it’s like Like, but dancing! you can also give your allies Rary’s Telepathic Bond, or let them speak in Tongues. it’s not turning into a giant goo monster, but it’s still neat. it’s less neat when you realize you’re spending more magic and it doesn’t even eclipse a 4th level spell, but still.

17. Wizard 11: we’ve got sixth level spells, and that means we have actual support spells again! Fizban’s Platinum Shield gives an ally half cover (aka +2 to AC and dex saves), resistance to all elemental damage, and evasion. or you can give an ally True Seeing, to peek past any illusions, shapechangers, or the like. both really good support spells to have in your back pocket.

18. Wizard 12: use your last ASI of the build to become Tough. that’s an extra 36 HP now, and +2 more every time you level up from here on out. your HP’s already pretty nice, but it’s not “functionally immortal” nice.

of course, first your enemies have to get past your Guards and Wards that you set up in your home base, and if worse comes to worse you can always Remove Curses. there’s not really a post-curse save people can make, but that just makes you empowering them to break through it even more special.

19. Wizard 13: thirteenth level wizards get seventh level spells, and tbh we don’t care about any of ‘em. we wouldn’t be able to use sorcery points with them anyway, so who cares. instead, we’re getting Creation to make raw materials out of nothing (infinite energy equals infinite mass, thanks Einstein!) , and we’re also getting Nystul’s Magic Aura for another way to hide your infinite power away from the protagonists until the big reveal.

20. Wizard 14: with our final level of trans wizardry, we become a Master Transmuter, letting you destroy your transmuter’s stone for big bursts of supportive power. they kind of.. forgot. that you can give this to another player by this point, but that’s no biggy. with this, you can use Major Transformation to turn a non-magical object into another, similar, less expensive one, a Panacea to cure all curses, diseases, and poisons affecting one creature, as well as restoring all their HP, Restore Life to a creature without spending a spell slot, and presumably taking the place of the diamonds? idk, or you can Restore Youth to a creature, which doesn’t actually affect its lifespan. not all of them are winners, but for a class that doesn’t usually get healing spells Panacea is a game changer.

also we finally broke down and got you a damaging spell. Dragon’s Breath is technically okay because you can foist it onto another creature so they’re dealing the damage instead! and I guess we’ll pick up one seventh level spell with Etherealness to practically make you invincible for up to 8 hours. you can’t do much while in the ethereal plane, but at least it won’t interrupt your buffs.

Pros and Cons

Pros:

you walk away from this build with 16 AC and over 200 HP, which is just a silly amount of hp for a wizard. you’re tougher than some of the frontline fighters we’ve built over the years, and that’s before you get into the emergency I Am Impossible To Hit spells you’ve got on hand.

you’ve also got even more magic than most pure wizards do with access to sorcery points and quickened short rests to recharge your arcane recovery. it’s not quite a sorlock, but it’s nothing to sneeze at either.

Cons:

it turns out deliberately ignoring the main conceit of the game you’re playing sucks. supportive spells are nice to have, but you’re generally supposed to have other stuff to do between casts. and a decent chunk of the spells we grabbed aren’t even good, they’re just there to keep you from getting offensive spells! it was a fun challenge to try and build it this way but like, please don’t actually play this build. you’ll feel bad bc you have nothing to do on your turns after you cast whatever you’re concentrating on, your party’ll feel bad because they’re expecting you to bring fireballs and stuff to fights, it won’t be a good time.

[wriheart]

Raven Queen, Apple White, and A Bit About Magic

Welcome to part two of my Ever After High rewrite ideas. These next few posts will focus on expanding the world building and introducing a bit about the characters that inhabit it.

Raven Queen has always been my favorite character. She’s just so relatable and I like what she stands for. Her, Apple, and Darling are going to be the main characters of this unwritten rewrite. Other characters will still have a big role and will be focused on with their own chapters (like Cerise and Lizzie), because I think that every character at Ever After High has an important story to tell. They each have a piece of the puzzle to explaining the unfair system that Grim has created.

If you missed part one, I talked about the world building so if you haven’t read it, it will help you understand this post.

In the world of Ever After, the magic system is presented to most as very cut and dry. The only people who can use magic are those involved in a fairytale. Maybe once upon a time there were other magic users, but not anymore. There are two types of magic: light and dark, and in order to master one’s magical abilities, they must choose one side to fill their heart.

Light magic is fueled by goodness. The desire to help those around you, to change the world for the better, to make people happy, to simply use magic: that is the core of light magic. Dark magic is fueled by evil. The desire to harm others, to ruin the world, to accomplish things that are otherwise unnatural: that is the core of dark magic.

While light magic is meant to help the hero grow and change while overcoming obstacles, dark magic is always meant to teach a cruel lesson.

You can not use either side effectively unless you have pledged yourself to one side. Even basic spells that fall outside of light and dark, such as teleportation and levitation can become impossible to master without fully accepting light or dark magic into your heart.

As you can probably guess, Raven Queen has not let either type of magic fully into her heart. On the one hand, she can’t bear the thought of using her magic to harm those around her. But if she accepted light magic, there would truly be no going back. Would she even be able to accept light magic if choosing her own destiny is as selfish and cruel as everyone thinks it is?

Now, in the original Snow White (at least, the version that I have a copy of) the Evil Queen dies when she goes to Snow White’s wedding. She is forced to wear red-hot shoes and dance herself to death. In my version, she shows up to the wedding and Prince Charming stabs her in the heart and keeps it in a box as payback for what she was going to do to his wife. (I’m also including that the evil queen tries to kill snow three times before it succeeds: lace, comb, apple.)

Fun stuff.

Growing up, Raven Queen has always had the feeling that she’s being watched. Even when her noble caretakers aren’t around, she feels some sort of presence all around her.

The presence? Her fairytale mother.

Raven’s mother is named Opal Queen (black opals look cool, ok?), but almost nobody remembers her real name. After all, she became one of the most infamous Evil Queens in all of Ever After history.

I really want Opal to be an anti-hero/gray character. Yes, she really leans into her role as Evil Queen, but she has a gut feeling that destinies are a load of bs. She spends a lot of her time investigating, researching, etc. but it isn’t until Alice comes to her that she finally finds herself with a lead. (We’ll come back to Alice in her own post).

The Evil Queen has many bad and good intentions. For example, she wants to free people from Grim’s control because she recognises the cycle of violence, pain, fear and mistrust he has cultivated to keep himself in control. However, she is more than willing to hurt and manipulate anyone she needs to in order to achieve her own goals.

At the end of the day, she is able to fake her own death. When she’s stabbed in the heart, her spell takes effect, and she’s banished to the mirror dimension. In the mirror dimension, one isn’t really alive or dead, so she doesn’t really need a heart to survive.

Anyway, Raven grows up under the nobel family with her mother constantly watching her. Anyone in the mirror dimension can easily see out of any mirror, but only enchanted mirrors are able to see into the mirror dimension. And enchanted mirrors are few and far between since they are hard to create. I’m thinking that later in the story, Raven is able to create an enchanted mirror to contact her mother, but her mother has a grand plan, so she isn’t willing to give Raven all of the answers so easily.

Would you guys be mad if I renamed Apple? Cuz that would be a little sad for me lol. Apple is such a cute name but I never really liked it. Who names their kid after the thing that almost killed them? Her new name will be Frost White. pls don’t be mad :,(

Frost grows up under the strict eye of her mother. She needs to be perfect at every moment so that she can live up to her mother’s image. After all, The tale of Snow White is the most important in all of Ever After.

Apple in my version is going to go through a lot more character development than the original gave her. I feel like they never truly addressed her selfish tendencies. She was the center of attention and the only happily ever after that mattered was her own. She’s not really considerate of others.

In my version, I want to make these characters' flaws very apparent in the narrative instead of sweeping them under the rug like the original does. She’s going to take the time to learn and grow to empathize with others and realize that she is coming from a place of privilege and that those around her have valid reasons to not want to go through their destinies.

Frost and Raven will go from enemies to friends. They are not going to be friends at the beginning. Raven hates Frost’s guts (for valid reasons, Frost is kinda a passive-aggressive bitch and because of her, Raven is destined to die).

Raven will go through a character arc too but I’m not quite sure what yet. I haven’t really identified any character flaws that I want to address quite yet.

Raven Queen has never wanted to be evil, yet the only people who seem to recognize this are the Wonderlandians, Maddie specifically. Raven might not always understand what Maddie is trying to tell her, but she knows that her friend is trying her best to listen and communicate.

This is the first year that the Wonderlandians are attending Ever After High, so they’re struggling greatly with the culture and the language. Raven is happy to help them out, grateful to finally have people in her life who don’t cower in fear.

Personal issue I had with Maddie in the original: I felt like she never truly listened to Raven. She was Raven’s best friend and was nice don’t get me wrong, but I always felt she was so flippant, not taking anything serious. For example, in the first episode, when Raven is talking to her about her issues and how everyone is scared of her, Maddie simply tells her it isn’t true before sitting down for tea. I get that Wonderlandians are supposed to be mad and random and whatnot, but I think she should be serious enough to listen to her friend’s troubles and help out. I also want to give Maddie some troubles of her own (not sure yet) so that Raven can help her.

Raven truly likes the three Wonderlandians that she knows. Lizzie might be prickly and hard to get to know, and Kitty mischievous tendencies can get on one’s nerves, but Raven knows that these are her people and feels a bond with them.

The story starts with Legacy year, when Raven decides that she’s going to find a way to escape her destiny. Raven spends the year digging for evidence, finding allies, and mixing up the status quo.

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