#you just have to hope that he got yeeted far enough

[obsessivevoidkitten]

That Time You Got Yeeted Into Another World, Mistaken as a God-Sent Gift, and Used as a Prize in an Arena

Yandere Bear-Man Dilf x Gender Neutral Reader

CW: Noncon, framed for a crime, language barrier, eaten out like it's groceries, biting, scent marking, musk, combat, general yandere behavior

Word Count: 765

(Speed written out of nowhere because I had the idea suddenly, not beta read so please forgive any mistakes. I hope you guys like this ficlet. Also forgive the title, in a game I was playing there was a crossover with "That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime" and I liked the vibe of the title.)

You were framed for a crime you didn't commit and in your village the punishment for that crime was immediate exile via being shoved down a steep crater in the center of which is a one-way portal to what is thought to be Hell.

What no one on your side of the portal knew was that on the other side was just another world. A world that celebrated with a great holiday anytime a human came through the portal. It was also a world populated entirely, with the exception of humans who crossed over, by human-like beast hybrids.

Driders, lion hybrids, nagas, aqrabuamelu (scorpion-men), harpies, dog people, centaurs, minotaurs, gnolls, and many other races that seemed to be part human. 

They have a connecting portal in their universe, but any who try to go into it are spat back out. The current went only in one direction.

Every few years, a human would be flung forth from the portal, a gift from the gods! But only the worthy can keep such a gift. So whenever a human comes to the realm from the watcher of the portal will ring the bells and all the warriors assemble and a grand tournament is held at the arena. Whoever wins gets to keep the human and gains enough wealth to care for them properly.

Things are no different when you arrive, you are immediately ushered away, examined, and pampered like a prize doll with no agency. Despite your objections. It seems like only the keeper of the portal has any rudimentary undestanding of your language, not that it helped you. He didn't explain much and his speech wasn't that great. Something about... a big game?

You were naturally frightened beyond all reason, seeing all these beast-men, but it didn't seem like you were being harmed. It really wasn't what you thought hell was going to be like. 

On the day of the big tournament, you were dressed in the finest silks, given a tiny crown of silver, and taken to the best seat in the arena. One where everyone could see you. A cushioned throne was provided for you to sit upon. You figured that this must be a ceremony to welcome people from the portal.

You watched as all the combatants sparred. At first you were horrified, but it became evident that people could yield and death was, almost always, avoided. There were combatants of every variety. 

Even from the start the best seemed to be a naga woman named Eeris and a bear-man named Brakwen. As they advanced through the fights they both finally made it to the finals where they'd clash. Eeris favored twin daggers and fangs while Brakwen used claws and brute strength. He had a sword but had not resorted to using it. 

It was a mighty battle but Brakwen the bear-man managed to win. You still did not yet realize you were the prize. Not until you were escorted down to him and were carried bridal style out of the arena with the crowd cheering. Brakwen had won the god's favor!

From close up he looked even more imposing. He seemed to be in his late 30s to early 40s. He mostly looked like a hairy man from far away though up close his massive size, sharp teeth, claws, thick fur covering his arms and quite frankly adorable bear ears, gave him away. He was rugged but admittedly rather handsome. You knew there was nothing you could do so you let him carry you away. 

Despite the language barrier, Brakwen did his best to please his god-given prize. He could tell you feared him. Especially since you tried to run off a few times. But Brakwen didn't get angry. You never even managed to get past the door. Even if you did there were two gates outside the house. You were far too valuable to let wander off. 

Eventually when you had stopped running off, and when his rut demanded he wait no longer, he began acting a bot more aggressove and sexual towards you. 

Though you tried to stop him it ended with him stretching out your hole with his powerful tongue, lubing you up with his copious amounts of drool, and sliding into you with his massive musky cock.

That's what your life was now. Being treated like a fragile precious gem most of the time and then for one week out of every month you were fucked full of hot bear cum in every possible position, bitten possessively, and scent marked by being forced to wear his oversized clothing. 

[mediumgayitalian]

“Can I come over tomorrow?”

Nico’s hands still on the stubborn pillowcase. “To…my cabin?”

“Yes.”

“Um.” He resumes, sliding slowly away from Will’s wide round eyes, stuffing the puffy square of feathers into its fabric prison. The ghost of geese past are not happy with him. He is their prince. They will submit. “Yeah? You could all those other times, too.”

“Yeah, but I want to come over.”

“Yes,” Nico agrees, wondering if this is perhaps one of those moments Kayla warned him about. Has it reached day five of Will not sleeping? He doesn’t think so. He was napping when Nico came into the infirmary this morning to help with the tidying he promised to do. At least he was drooling enough that Nico hopes he was sleeping. “You mentioned.”

“So I can?”

“Yes, Will.”

Maybe it’s just an American thing. Nico has been noticing some Moments lately. He’s not sure if all teenagers have unanimously decided on some code they’d like to speak in during the few months he was busy defeating his great grandmother, or if maybe he’s finally stuck around long enough to notice, but nobody says what they mean, nowadays.

(He has gathered, thus far, that ‘on fleek’ is a synonym for ‘aflame’, although ‘yeet’ continues to evade him. Perhaps because Cecil and Lou appear to have indulged in the sick delight of replacing their every word with the term with the sole purpose to Confuse. Or perhaps, as Will has so indicated, they have each endured one concussion to many and are beyond any hope.)

“Sick!” That one Nico knows, at least. “I’ll come by after my morning shift? Connor got cursed by the Hypnos, Hecate, and Aphrodite cabins this morning so I have to do brain surgery before he forgets how to feel genuine human connection again, but I’ll be done by noon. Probably. I mean, Connor has a thick skull, genuinely I mean, which is why his lobotomy has been delayed so many times, but so long as I —”

It has been under Nico’s notice lately that Will eyes, genuinely, sparkle. He has read the cliche time and time again and rolled his eyes almost every time: diamonds sparkle. Water sparkles. Snow sparkles. Eyes reflect, and sometimes glow with reflection. They do not sparkle. To claim a set of eyes are sparkling is to profess to the world and all capable of registering your words that you are a brainless idiot who cannot dredge up from the depths of your mind, the most barren and bereft back corners, a single unique or clever comparison; a minutely original way to describe excitement or animation.

And yet.

Will is indeed very animated, and very excited about very many things, and it shows on his face; in the wideness of his grins, the springing mass of his curls, the stilted and flailing gilt of his languid limbs. It also shows, perhaps most obviously, in his genuinely magnificent eyes — Nico has seen the Logan Sapphire. He has touched the precious thing with reverent hands, stared in awe as it thrust out the light shine upon it like the golden ichor of Ouranous swirling with the sweet saltwater to birth Love Incarnate. He knows glittering, he knows gleaming, shimmering and shining and twinkling.

Will’s eyes sparkle, like the very tip of a mountaintop, like the crackling ends of a flame, like dewdrops on spider silk. It is transfixing. It is alluring.

“—ico. Nico! Hello-o?”

It is also a trap.

“Sounds great,” Nico says loudly, voice like cold soda over vanilla ice cream. He clears his throat, twice, to no avail. His vision begins to blur as the heat pouring off of his face warps the air. “Um. See you then?”

Will nods, or at least Nico hopes he does. His curls bounce, anyway. They are hard to miss. They remind Nico tangentially of how laughter sounds, unimpeded by shame; how the shimmering satin of a ribbon would curl and bend under the smooth slide of the scissor’s blade.

(His father’s circuit of jesters often included poets playwrights. They also doubled as Nico’s babysitters. Surely no lasting consequences, that.)

“Yes!” He flashes a smile, then, and it becomes imperative to note that his eyes squint at the force of it, and his slightly-too-big teeth brush his bottom lip, and he has, in fact, on each cheek, a dimple.

Now, Will is often and even frequently called Apollo Junior by just about every living soul in camp, up to and including Immortal Camp Director And Horse, Chiron; and uproariously once even Mr D, God of Wine. Allegedly, as taunted by Kayla, even by Will’s own mother. The golden hair and unfortunate habit of winking and legs for days do most definitely create an image.

Nico, however, contrarian he be, must deny: he has seen Apollo. Apollo is beautiful and golden and charming, but Will is not quite his spitting image. Will, more aptly, is the son of the Sun. He glows; the glare of his smile leaves impressions behind in the cells one’s eyes, the glide of his limbs is almost dragging, languid. To look at him is to commit yourself to blinding. To seek so desperately the solace of the light as to ignore the unsettling sting of the burn.

“I can’t wait!”

As a blissful cloud moving in front of the solar system’s brightest star saves your eyes the eternal fate of darkness, Will’s duty so saves Nico from an eternity of shadow. He returns, humming softly and horribly, to his work, sifting through folders and updating patient files, and Nico exhales the breath setting foundations in his lungs, slumping forward in fervent relief. A melancholic reprieve from the summer rays, if only for a moment.

He waves goodbye, or at least he hopes that he does, rushing out the infirmary doors and tripping down the rickety porch steps.

“Hurrying somewhere, Nicholas Claus?” drawls Mr. D, throwing darts a perilously balanced apple atop the horns of a satyr bleating in morse code.

“That was not even an attempt,” responds Nico, and hurries away before he can be dolphinized. Dolphinified? Made into a bottle-nosed beast. (Why bottle? Of all comparisons to make, who decided bottles were the utmost separate object to which the snout of the slippery beasts should be named? Oh, wait, drunk people. Bottles. Okay. Mystery solved.)

He manages, in his heroic retreat across the common, not to destroy entire swathes of grass and plants, a feat for which the Muses could perhaps write epics about. Truly he is capable of the utmost restraint and self-control. He does raise several full sized wolf skeletons, but they seem primarily preoccupied with hunting down the the Stolls, so a win-win as far as Nico is concerned. Probably not for Connor, who is apparently cursed or concussed, he doesn’t remember exactly, but he has managed thus far with his startling amount of daily braincell loss so by statistic and happenstance he is bound to survive another incident.

“There has to be away to shut myself off,” Nico says, out loud to himself, proceeding the slam of his cabin door and the heavy breathing upon it. He turns to his altar. “You mentioned an off button, Father. I don’t suppose it has been successfully implemented.”

No answer comes forth. He indulges in a brief moment of self pity, wherein the Nico who lives in his brain clears his throat, digs around the messy confines of his mind to find an imaginary black hoodie, slips it on, digs around again for a dagger, and stabs himself, choking and twitching pitifully. Real Nico then walks with great purpose to the exact geological centre of the stone cabin.

“Okay,” he says again. He nods, once, narrowing his eyes in determination. The Nico in his brain opens one curious eyelid. (Does Will do psychiatric assessments?) “Okay, this is. Hm.”

It is not the first time they have been alone together, after all.

In the weeks following Gaea’s defeat and Will Solace’s nonstop, irritating persistence, Nico has been thrust in his proximity an incredible number of times. From his three day stay, during which he was simply so unconscious for so long his father was concerned enough to manifest onto the mortal plane and poke at his soul until he responded, to his unofficial indoctrination (ha) as a nurse, to camp clean-up efforts, to cabin renovation, to general life — they have become friends. Coworkers, at least. Together they make the camp a little more bearable for everyone in it, including Nico. It is rewarding work. It is illuminating work; Will is a good teacher, and he is funny, and he is good company (and he happens to have very long legs that he does not bother to cover up very often and Nico has eyes that do what they please). They have been in Nico’s cabin together several times over the last few weeks.

Never before has Will come over without some kind of stated purpose.

At least, not and absence he has made so obvious. True, the renovations took longer than expected, and the paint on the east wall is smudged from where Nico shoved Will, shrieking, off the stepstool, and they have perhaps, on occasion, used Nico’s illegal Wii when they were meant to be helping Annabeth make plans for Capture the Flag, but —

But.

Intent.

Is important.

It has been made abundantly clear to Nico over the summer that he has friends upon which he can rely. Reyna has made a point to Iris Message him at whatever Roman tryhard time she believes he should be awake, prompting an attempted murderous shadow travel that left him unconcious in Missouri and at the unfortunate end of many people’s shouting. And Will’s friends, who can perhaps at this point be called his friends also, have created a game entitled “How Many Grapes Can We Flick At Nico During Lunch Before He Goes Ballistic And Sends Us To Purgatory For A Little While” (four), which they are inclined and inspired to play every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. Piper enjoys dragging him around to do Things. Jason is just around constantly. (Does he sleep? Nico should check on that properly.)

He had a point, somewhere. He’s sure he did.

It was maybe the impending anxiety attack, helpfully informs Brain Nico.

“Ah,” regular Nico replies, then grapples around for his least favourite pillow, slams it into his face, and screams at the top of his lungs for several minutes.

Brain Nico decides once again that commentary is the way.

I think we are an all powerful demigod of something, he muses. Dirt, maybe? Bad vibes? I can’t quite remember.

“The dead?” inquires regular Nico.

Do you think those years isolated in the Labyrinth perhaps situated us firmly on the shores of mentally unwell? responds he, blissfully unhelpful.

“I think that was Tartarus, actually,” says regular Nico, and promptly banishes his brain self to the deepest recesses of his mind, among memories of the taste of liquid fire and Calculus.

With the remaining, functioning (well.) part of his brain, he places both palms on the cool floor and attempts to focus.

Juicy Fruit It gets right to ya Juicy salt Hmmm Juicy Fruit, The taste the taste that’s —

For the love of all holy things, Nico begs his brain. It doesn’t work, but what ever really goes right in his life, so he pushes past the increasingly louder replays of eighties commercial jingles and maps out the ground below the cabin floor, pushes through the layers of underground.

Ah. Perfect.

He pulls up the very aptly placed skeleton of a cat, letting it scratch and sniff about his cabin before cautiously approaching him.

“You will be sure to tell it to me straight,” Nico says solemnly, holding out his hand. The cat bobs its nasal cavities in and out of Nico’s fingers and, apparently deciding him to be worthy of its attention, rams its skull against his knuckles. Nico snorts, running a fingernail along its cranial sutures and grinning as its purring echoes in his mind. “You seem very wise.”

The cat’s caudal vertebrae rattle in indignation, miffed at the mere idea that it could be anything other than wise. Nico is honestly quite impressed by its ability to glare without actual eyeballs, eyelids, or thought power.

“I am going to name you after my sister and pray that’s not weird,” Nico says. “I mean, I don’t think she would mind. You’re pretty cool, actually, and Hazel’s cool, kind of, so. Win win.”

Hazel the Cat seems unbothered by her christening, curling up in Nico’s lap. He runs his hand from cranial base to coccyx, finger dipping and bumping along the ridges of her spines, and settles against the cool floor, attempting to breathe evenly.

“It’s just.” He swallows. It takes a try or two, to work around the massive stone borrowed in his throat, and Hazel the Cat nips playfully at his fingers until his lungs settle again. “Before we had something to do, you know? We’d be cutting bandages, and he’d be all, hey, did you know bandages are mentioned in one of the first ever medical manuscripts and definitely predate it by many hundreds of years, and I would say I did, actually, I talked to the guy who made that clay tablet, and his eyes would get all wide and he’d be like no way, tell me everything, and then I would just talk forever.” Nico huffs. “We had something to talk about, you understand. Something to do.”

Nico tries to imagine what Hazel his Sister would say. Probably something along the lines of you are an impossible person, which is code for I have about as much luck as you do in this century, pal, the best I’ve got is hope for the best and remember adults no longer smack you for standing wrong. Which. Fair.

Hazel the Cat just purrs in his head again. It’s as encouraging as anything, he supposes.

“Am I supposed to have…conversation starters? He likes twizzlers and intentionally bad poetry. Maybe I could do something with that?”

Hazel the Cat shrugs at him.

“It’s not even — okay, it’s not just that, though. What is — how close is close enough in a casual setting? Or too close? How am I meant to greet him? Am I supposed to offer something? Make something? What do I do if there’s a lull in conversation? Or if it’s all lulls? Oh, gods, how much silence is socially appropriate —”

Hazel the Cat twists in his hold, meeting his eyes as if to say well I don’t think you’ll be struggling with that last one.

“Shush,” he tells her, but his mouth is twitching. “I’m just — I don’t want him to finally realize I’m weird. Or boring, gods. He’s such a hyper person, you know? He never stops. And I am supposed to entertain him! I think!”

This time he can actually hear his sister’s voice, in the back of his mind — you’re such a dummy. Ringed with fondness from the many times she’s said it to him, shoulders nudged carefully together, head knocked gently against his. You are weird and boring. Most people are.

“Ugh,” he sighs, tipping his head back until it rests against the mattress. “Friendship is hard work.”

Hazel the Cat swishes her tail, rattling the discs of bone like a rattlesnake. It’s a surprisingly soothing sound, like rain pinging softly against his window, or the flutter of the poplar trees outside of his father’s palace. Unconsciously he matches his breathing to it, slowing until it’s even, gentle, deep. His eyes, without any direction from his brain, drift until they blanket his hazy eyes, heavy as stone..

“S’not that serious,” he murmurs to himself, soothed under the weight of his feline friend. “S’just Will, I guess.” A beat. He smiles, slightly, a small, curling thing, mimicking the coiled heat in his belly. “It’s just Will.”

———

part two

[writeforfandoms]

Roardin

Find my CoD Masterlist

Title is the song “Roardin” by Marcela Bovio. Highly recommend listening to it before/during/after reading. 

This idea started as musing on this headcanon from the amazing mind of @soapskneebrace​ and she gave me permission to run with it. And then, uh. This happened. I... have no idea how. This one got away from me. There was an entire subplot that I cut. Gaz wasn’t even supposed to be here BUT HE IS. Look idk I’m just gonna yeet this and run. 

Soap x plus size f!reader

You’ve loved Johnny for a long time, but you’re convinced the feeling is not reciprocated. So you keep it to yourself and, well, at least he’s still your friend. 

Warnings: Swearing, some very unhealthy mental state on reader’s part, they’re both idiots, idiots to lovers. 

Word count: 7.5k

The first time you met Johnny was at a party. Your friend Emily had promised you it would be a lowkey thing. 

So of course there were twenty people. 

You ended up sitting on a chair, watching Emily flirt with one of the others. You were trying not to be bitter, but it was hard when you felt so alone. You didn’t know anyone but Emily, and you weren’t great in big social situations like this. So you sat and watched people, holding a cup of beer that was slowly growing warm in the balmy night. 

Someone dropped down into the chair next to you, and you blinked at him. He was handsome, dark hair kept short, blue eyes bright. 

“Doin’ alright?” he asked, smile kind, gaze focused on you. 

You were so startled you blinked at him, owlish. And then you nodded. “Yeah, just, uh.” You shrugged, ducking your head a little. “More people than I anticipated.” 

He nodded, leaning back in his seat. “Aye,” he murmured. “Me too.” 

"Who are you here with?" You glanced at him, cautiously optimistic. So far he was nice. 

"Eric, the blonde over there." He nodded in the correct direction. "You?"

"Emily." You looked around for her. 

And, as if summoned by her name, she appeared at your shoulder. "I don't think we've met," she said, flirty smile in place, holding out a hand to your conversation partner. 

"John." He shook her hand and then looked at you. But you were too slow to respond, too startled - Emily had already moved in, smile bright as she started talking to him. 

And you leaned back in your chair, feeling frumpy and boring in comparison. You weren't good at this sort of thing. You weren't the most personable person, you couldn't stop and talk with anyone. You didn't have the same kind of social battery that Emily did. 

So you mentally wrote the night off as a loss and contented yourself with being on the outskirts of this conversation. Which was becoming more flirting by the moment. 

Yeah. You were definitely sidelined, especially when you noticed Emily shifting closer to him, tossing her hair back behind her shoulder, eyes bright and confident. 

Maybe you'd get lucky and she'd drop you off at home before she went home with him, or something. 

After half an hour of listening to them flirt, you'd had enough. You stood, touching the back of Emily's shoulder with two fingers to get her to pay attention. 

"I'm gonna get a ride home," you said, gaze flitting to John and then down to the floor. "It was nice to meet you." 

If he responded, you didn't hear it, already heading for the door. 

You wouldn't be missed. 

You would have liked to talk to John a bit more before Emily stole him away, but you knew you didn't hold a candle to her. In so many ways. 

You were used to playing second fiddle to her. 

You honestly never expected to see John again. Not unless Emily nabbed him as more than just a bed partner for the night, but you weren't sure that would happen. 

So when someone sat across from you at the coffee shop, you felt yourself stiffen and prepare to make an excuse to leave. 

Until your gaze met brilliant blue again. 

"Oh," you murmured, blinking at him. "Hi." 

"Hi." His smile was warm but still soft, and a little bashful. "Hope ye don't mind, spotted you as I got m' drink." 

"Not at all." You smiled, a little thrill zinging down your spine. He'd actually chosen to sit with you! "Just unexpected, that's all. How are you?" 

"Oh, dandy. Enjoying my time off while it lasts." He winked, leaving you little doubt as to how he was enjoying. "You?"

You shrugged. "Wishing I knew more languages to cuss out this paper," you said, light and cheerful. 

“School?” he asked, leaning a little closer. 

“Mmhm.” You sighed at your laptop. “It’s annoying.” 

He chuckled. “Anything I can help with?” 

“That depends,” you said slowly, blinking at him. “Know anything about Paradise Lost?” 

“Not really. Had to read a bit of it, but not much.” He looked sheepish now.

“Don’t worry about it.” You shut your laptop. “I’ll figure it out later. I’m an expert procrastinator at this point.”

He snorted and then grinned at you. “Oh, aye? Not one to get things done early?” 

“I try, and then things happen, and then I end up doing them last minute.” It was your turn to look sheepish now, shoulders hunching a little. 

He laughed, playing with his coffee. “Well, you get it all done.”

“I do.” You relaxed a little at the lack of judgment. “Are you studying?” 

He shook his head a little. “Military.”

“Ah.” You blinked. It made sense, looking at him. “What do you think of it so far?” 

He made a complicated expression. “I’m glad I joined,” he said, firm and sure. “There are… ups and downs. Like any job.” His lips twisted. 

“Understandable,” you agreed, leaning back in your seat. “You’re on leave, then? How much longer do you have?”

“A few more days.” He shrugged, watching you from under his lashes. 

“I hope you get to enjoy.” Your smile was small but genuine. Your phone buzzed on the table, and you looked down to check it, making a face. “Dammit. I’m sorry, I have to go, apparently my apartment is flooding?” 

He blinked at you but nodded. “Good luck,” he said, watching you shove your laptop into your backpack. 

You murmured your thanks to him and took off. Well. There went your mood. And also some good company. 

You didn’t let yourself really register the disappointment, though, pushing past it and shoving it down to think about never. 

Surely, that would be it. He only had a few days of leave left, he’d said so himself. There was no way you were going to see him again. 

You saw him again. 

Normally you didn’t really go out, preferring to stay in the quiet solace of your room. But your room was temporarily off limits while repairs happened from the flooding, and you were all off-kilter, so you decided to go out at the invitation of a classmate to a local pub. 

Dinner, you said. And one drink. Your classmate (a really nice girl named Claire) agreed eagerly. (Which surprised you - you were too much of a wet blanket for people to get excited about going anywhere with you.) 

The two of you sat at the pub and chatted. It was nice. It was easy. You had some musical tastes in common, which helped. 

You both settled your bills and then she waved at someone. “A couple friends of mine are here, do you want to come meet them?” she asked, happy and eager. 

You turned to look, and blinked when those same blue eyes met yours across the room. What were the odds? You recognized the blonde next to him - Eric. From the party.

What a small world.

“Sure,” you agreed shyly, ducking your head briefly. But you gamely followed Claire over to the table, introducing yourself and settling into your seat, shoulders hunched to try to take up less room. 

For a little while, you just sat and listened to the others, content to fade into the background. But slowly, John nudged you into adding your opinion. It was odd, but in a nice way. You didn’t mind. 

And when you finally checked your phone and realized the time, you made your excuses. You had to get up in the morning. 

“Do you want me to drive you back?” Claire asked, a little concerned.

“Nah, it’s not that far to campus.” You smiled. “I’ll see you on Tuesday, yeah?”

“Of course!” She beamed at you. 

To your surprise, though, John stood when you did. “I’ll walk you back,” he murmured. “And I’ve got a plane to catch in the morning.” 

“Right.” You grabbed your things and waved once more to the table before you headed out, John a few respectful steps behind you. The air was chilly as you stepped out of the pub, and you paused a moment to adjust. “I’m okay to walk back on my own if you’d rather just grab a ride,” you offered, looking at John. 

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I offered,” he pointed out. “How’s the, uh, Milton thing coming?”

“Oh, I’m still procrastinating,” you admitted, ducking your head as you started walking. “My current plan is to bang it out on Saturday.”

He tipped his head back to laugh, beautiful and bright. “Aye, that’s a plan,” he agreed, fingers just touching your elbow as you crossed a street. 

You took a deep breath, nerves fluttering in your stomach. “You know… If you ever got bored… you could text me sometime.” The offer came out smaller than you intended, and you winced at yourself. No wonder nobody bothered with you. 

“Sure,” he agreed, so quickly you lifted your head to blink at him. He was already pulling out his phone. “What’s your number?” 

You rattled it off, and moments later your phone buzzed in your pocket with a new text. 

“Ah’m not always the best at texting,” he said, a hint of nerves entering his voice. “But, uh.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him. “Like I said, if you’re bored or want to chat or whatever. I get it.” 

His smile relaxed at that and he nodded. 

“Well, this is me.” You stopped outside the residential area, turning to look at him. “Thanks for walking me back.”

“My pleasure.” He shifted a little closer to you, eyes bright. 

For a moment, you two simply stood and looked at each other, the air thick between the two of you. Then a door slammed and loud laughter echoed from an open window. 

“Have a good flight, and stay safe, okay?” You smiled at him, one hand reaching out and then retracting. 

But he held out his arms and lifted one eyebrow in silent question. You smiled and stepped into him, hugging him. And oh, he was warm and he was a good hugger. 

You stepped back before things edged into longer than socially acceptable, and his hands slid from your back. 

“I’ll text you,” he promised. “Good luck with your paper.”

You nodded and let him go, waving briefly before you turned to head to your building. 

Honestly, you half-expected him to fall through. It was easy to not expect much of people, a well-developed defense mechanism. 

It was hard to be disappointed when you didn’t expect anything. 

So when he texted you the next day to say he was back on base, you were pleasantly surprised. 

And he didn’t stop texting, either. Sometimes he wouldn’t for days or weeks, but he always got back to you when he could, hours long conversations making up for the necessary silences. 

You didn’t see him in person though for months. When he finally had leave again, he was busy - going out with friends, hiking, playing football. 

You even managed to see him a few times. Out at a bar one night, Emily once again dragging you out. He talked you into going hiking with him and a few of his buddies. (That one you regretted a little, feeling self-conscious around them.) 

But you began to notice more about him.

John had a lot of friends, and he seemed to be pretty casual with most of them. Friendly bumps or hugs were normal for him. Despite how often he went out, he never arrived to events with a date, always on his own.

But he often left with someone on his arm. Often a girl - one time a guy. (Thinking very briefly about that had left you warm and flustered for the rest of the night.) Emily went home with him a second time, and she gushed to you about him the next day.

But there was no expectation of more. Just sex.

You had no idea how they did it, but, more power to them. As long as everybody was happy with that arrangement, you weren’t going to rain on their parade. 

Months turned into years, and you watched as some of his friends drifted away due to time and distance and whatever else. Most of your friends were transitory, in and out of your life. You watched as he changed his hair, growing out a single stripe for a mohawk. You watched as his confidence settled into something proven without being boastful. You watched as he hid demons and nightmares behind smiles, as his job took him around the globe. (Which you only knew because he’d text you sometimes about the views or the weather. Never anything identifying, but you hoarded those dregs of information anyway.)

You always sent him a birthday text, even if he didn’t respond to it for days. He often missed yours, which you brushed off. But he didn’t miss holidays, either showing up a few days beforehand (he always spent the actual day with his family) or sending you gifts. 

Your friendship had settled into something deeper, something that lasted. Something that withstood the time apart and the silences and the rigors of his job. 

You, however, stubbornly ignored that your feelings ran deeper. That you cared for him, too much. More than you should. More than he cared for you, certainly. But you held your silence and ignored the longing and did your best to simply be there and be the best friend you could be. 

Which, really, was easy in some ways. The two of you just got on, had from the very start. Arguments were rare between the two of you, and you were always able to pick right back up where you left off around his absences. 

It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable pattern, but it was a pattern, one you were content to hold. It was enough to be in his orbit, to circle around him. It was enough. 

So seeing a text from him made you smile, even in the slurry slushy rain-sleet of December. 

Gonna be home for three weeks. You got time?

You read the message twice. Three weeks was longer than normal, even with the holidays around the corner. Maybe he needed some extra time to recover from something? But you could find out, you didn’t need to push now. 

For you? Always.

Well. That had probably been too honest. But it had been months since you’d seen him, and he was often silent on top secret missions. So, yeah, too honest but undeniable. 

Should be back in two days. See you soon.

You hummed and put it out of your mind for now. 

But if you ended up cleaning your apartment… well. That was just in case, really. And it needed to be done. So there.

(Even in the privacy of your own mind, you weren’t fooling anybody.) 

Two days later, your phone started buzzing with an incoming call, and you picked up with a grin. 

“Not dead yet?” you teased gently in what had become nearly a routine for the two of you.

He chuckled, the sound soothing the ball of anxiety that sat in your chest every time he went silent. “Not yet,” he agreed. “How are ye, sweets?” 

“Oh, the usual.” You smiled a little. “You?”

“Mandatory leave,” he answered on a sigh. “Got some company, though. One o’ my mates is here for a week ‘fore going home to his family.” 

“Sounds like fun,” you agreed, glancing at your calendar. “Work is still the same for me - any time after 5:30 or so I’m open, or weekends.” 

“No plans?” Johnny asked as gently as he could. 

You huffed. “No. No plans.”

The words sat between you, heavy and thick, for three heartbeats. Then Johnny clicked his tongue. 

“Won’t do,” he said with cheer that felt a little forced to you. “I’ll fix ye right up!” 

You laughed softly. “Just whatever you have time for,” you assured him. “I’m fine.”

“Ye’re home alone with reruns on doin’ nothin’ exciting,” Johnny predicted, and damn it all, he knew you too well. 

“That’s neither here nor there.” Your gaze skittered down to the floor. 

“Then come out with Gaz and I. Tomorrow. We can meet at our pub.”

Your lips twitched entirely against your will. “What time?”

“After work.”

You huffed a little laugh. “Alright,” you agreed. “I’ll meet you there tomorrow.” 

“Excellent.” The grin was clear in his voice. “See ye soon, sweets.”

“See you soon,” you agreed, reluctant to hang up but knowing you had to go. Well. More like you had to let him go. But you made yourself hang up. 

Now you just had to get through work and you’d be able to see arguably your favorite person on the planet. And one of his friends. Who also worked with him. 

No big deal.

You still showed up at the pub after work, looking around for Johnny. 

All you saw was a bright grin and that mohawk before arms grabbed you in a tight hug, absolutely uncaring of the rest of the pub. You squeaked as Johnny picked you up for a quick twirl, something you protested feebly. You were not some teeny dainty thing, you didn’t want him hurting himself. 

“There’s my sweets!” he crowed, finally setting you down. “Come meet Gaz.” Keeping hold of your hand, he led you over to a table in the back, where a dark-skinned man was already sitting waiting. “Gaz, this is my sweets.” 

You rolled your eyes and gave Gaz your actual name, holding out your hand for him to shake. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

“You too.” He smiled at you, easy and warm. “This idiot doesn’t shut up about you.” 

“Oh really?” You turned to Johnny with a teasing smile. 

Johnny shrugged, shameless. “Hard not to when ye send me packages,” he said, ushering you into a seat and finally releasing your hand. “I’ll grab this round, aye?” And he was gone before you could protest. 

You huffed a little laugh, shaking your head. “I hope he actually shares and doesn’t just dangle the packages in front of you,” you said, grinning. 

“Sometimes,” Gaz said with an easy shrug. “Sometimes he just hoards things.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Sounds like him,” you agreed, fondness bleeding into your tone, even as you turned a little to look for him. He was easy to spot, leaning up against the bar, probably flirting with the admittedly very pretty bartender (who looked mostly amused). The sight didn’t even hurt (much) - you were just happy to see him. 

“How long have you known him?” Gaz sounded curious, and you snapped your gaze back to him.

“Oh, years now.” You smiled. “Met him when I was in college and got dragged out to a party.” 

He chuckled. “Haven’t gotten rid of him since?” he teased, though the way he looked at you was sharp, assessing. 

“Why in the world would I do that?” You shook your head, amused. “He’s a good friend. One of the best.” 

Gaz nodded slowly but didn’t have a chance to say more before Johnny was back, putting down drinks in front of you. 

“Here ye are,” he said with a grin and a dramatic wave of his hand. “Take yer pick, sweets.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Gaz grumbled good-naturedly, making you laugh even as you picked your drink. 

“Something like that,” you agreed, grinning. “So, what was your favorite thing this time?” You took a sip of your drink, watching Johnny go off about some cafe he’d found on assignment in some other country, and how much it had annoyed someone he called “LT” when he stopped there for every meal one day. 

From there, the rest of the night was easy. You didn’t drink much, aware you still had to work the next day, but you relaxed. Gaz was funny and nice and interesting, much like Johnny. You ended up giving him your number at the end of the night and promising to send him packages too, so Johnny wouldn’t be the only one having fun.

Johnny’s overly dramatic clasping of his heart sent you into peals of laughter again. 

And when you needed to go, both men stood to see you out, offering to walk you home, which you gently turned down. 

“You gonna come tomorrow?” Johnny asked hopefully. “Arranging a football match.” 

“If you want me there, I’ll be there,” you agreed. “Just text me where and when.”

“Copy that.” He smiled, warm and beautiful under the street lights, everything you wanted and couldn’t have. 

“See you tomorrow, Johnny.” But you couldn’t resist darting in for one more hug, just one. Just to get a whiff of him to take home with you. He barely had time to respond before you were pulling back, bright smile in place as you took off for home.

You couldn’t let yourself linger or you’d do something damn foolish. 

To your surprise, Gaz checked in to ask if you got home safe. He really was sweet. You reassured both him and Johnny that all was well before you went to bed. 

You had plenty of time to get to the football game after work, since most of the players also had to work. You’d brought an extra sweater, in case you stayed out later than you meant to and got cold, and found a place to sit and wait. 

“Sweets!” Johnny jogged up to you, beaming, Gaz not far behind. “Been waitin’ long?”

“Just a few minutes.” You smiled up at him. “Did you two keep out of mischief today?”

“Sweets, I am hurt! Destroyed! Me, mischief?” Johnny pressed a hand to his chest, staggering back two steps with an exaggerated look of hurt. 

“She knows you too well,” Gaz drawled, and ducked the swat aimed at his head. 

“I take that as a no,” you said, laughing, watching the two tussle. “Save some of that energy for the match, I need some excitement today.”

“Bad day?” Johnny paused, one arm still wrapped loosely around Gaz’s neck, focus shifting to you so fast you were surprised he didn’t hurt himself.

“Just long.” Your smile felt brittle, small, and you tried to force it to be better. To be a better shield. “It’s fine, I’ve been looking forward to watching all day.”

“You don’t play?” Gaz asked, and you could have hugged him for keeping Johnny from fussing.

“Oh, no. I’ll kick a ball around, but I can’t keep up with an actual game.” You shrugged easily, gaze falling to the grass. “I’m just here for moral support when Johnny loses.”

Johnny puffed up, successfully distracted. “That was once! One time!”

Other people started showing up, and Johnny was quick to introduce Gaz around. You stayed where you were, waving to some people you knew, content to be on the edges of things. 

And of course Emily was there, with a few other women, all standing in a group chatting on the edges of the unofficial field. You hunched into yourself, gaze skittering away from her. 

You shouldn’t have come. But it was too late now. 

You kept your gaze on Johnny instead. It wasn’t hard. He was so vibrant, laughing and cursing and jostling the others. It was never a hardship to watch him. 

The game broke up eventually, and you weren’t sure which team had won. Or even if there had been real teams. But they all seemed happy, trooping together to the side with the women to talk about dinner plans. 

You did not miss the way Emily curled a hand around Johnny’s arm, leaned in close to him, flashed a pretty smile at him. You swallowed and looked away when he nodded, barely having to dip his head to get closer to her. 

You didn’t need to watch. You already knew where this was going. 

Thanking all your lucky stars that you’re quiet and invisible when you want to be, you gathered up your things. It was time to go. 

“Leaving already?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at Gaz’s question, hand flying to your chest. “I didn’t hear you come up,” you said, a weak defense for the way your heart thundered in your chest. 

“Sorry. Habit.” His lips twisted as he gave you a quick once-over. “Seriously, though, you out? They’re talking about getting food.”

“Some of them are.” You smiled up at him, holding your extra sweater tight to your stomach. “It’s okay, I’ve got food at home.” 

He looked over at the group, his brow furrowing a little. You didn’t need to, but you followed his gaze anyway to see Emily and Johnny stepping away from the group. 

Just as you knew would happen. 

Gaz’s jaw clenched and then he looked back at you with something far too close to pity in his eyes. “Come have dinner with me. My treat, yeah? We can have a nice quiet time of it, if you like.” 

You opened your mouth to refuse him… but nodded. He didn’t really know anyone else here, and Johnny had kind of abandoned him too. “Yeah. Okay. I know a nice place, if you like Italian?” 

“Sounds good to me.” He held out his arm in a gallant move, which at least got you to smile. 

The two of you were quiet as you walked, you steering, him simply keeping pace. 

“So,” he finally started, quiet, gentle, “how long have you been in love with that idiot, then?” 

You debated lying to him. He couldn’t know that for certain. He was taking a shot in the dark, testing his accuracy. But you knew as soon as you glanced at those brown eyes that there would be no lying. No getting out of this. So you deflated, eyes closing briefly, even as you pulled your shoulders in, sinking into yourself. “I’m not sure. A few years?” 

“You haven’t said anything?” He rested his free hand over yours, squeezing gently. Offering silent support. 

“No.” You shook your head, almost desperately. “No, and I’m not going to.”

He stopped, pulling you to a stop with him. “Why not?” He looked genuinely bewildered. 

You stared at him. “You’re joking, right?” You pulled your hand away, crossing your arms tight over your chest. “I mean, look at me. It’s obvious.” 

He continued to look confused, gaze darting over you. “Explain it to me.” 

You shook your head, taking a step back. “Maybe I should just go.”

“Whoa, hey, no.” He held up his hands, frowning a little. “I’m sorry, that was too much. We don’t have to talk about it.” 

You breathed in slowly, letting the cold air burn down your throat and in your lungs, holding it for just long enough to begin to feel the sting before you let it out in a whoosh. But his pleading eyes got to you, and you sighed. “Alright, yeah. Okay.” 

“Thank you.” He stepped closer again and offered his arm again, looking hopeful. You tucked your hand in his arm again and finished leading him to the restaurant. But the silence between you now was tense, stifled. 

“This is it.” You nodded at the restaurant just up ahead, gaze immediately dropping to the ground again. 

The two of you got seated at a table in the back, because the owner knew you, and sat for a few moments, your shoulders winding tighter with each passing heartbeat. 

“Hey.” Gaz ducked his head a little, trying to catch your gaze. “I’m sorry. I won’t push. Alright?” 

You nodded, chewing on your lip for a moment. “Okay.” 

“Tell me about your job?” He tipped his head a little. “Or a hobby.”

“Well, I suppose that’s fair, since I know probably too much about your job.” Your lips twitched in almost humor but you drew in a deep breath to start talking. 

It didn’t take long for the space between you to ease again, and dinner was more relaxed. The two of you carefully danced around the subject of Johnny and your feelings, but Gaz had plenty of amusing work stories that he could share with you. (And some pictures. Your favorite was the one of their captain slumped in his chair at his desk fast asleep. You wanted to drape a blanket over him and leave him cookies. When you told Gaz as much, Gaz looked surprised and then undeniably fond.) 

Gaz paid, ignoring your arguments, and then offered to walk you home. 

“I hope he at least left you a key.” It was the first time you’d directly brought up Johnny since before you’d arrived at the restaurant. 

“Yeah, I’m set.” Gaz shook his head a little. “Don’t worry about me.”

You huffed. “You don’t know me well, so I’ll give you a pass on that this time,” you grumbled. “I am physically incapable of not worrying about my friends.” 

He ducked his head, smiling, and then shook his head. “You must worry a lot, then.”

“Fair bit, yeah.” You shrugged. “It’s okay.” 

“I know I said I’d leave this alone…” 

Your heart dropped. Well, you’d known that was too good to last. “What do you want to know?”

“How often has he done that?” 

“What, go home with someone?” You shrugged. “It’s not like I’ve kept track.” 

“How often does he do it when you’re out with him?” Gaz looked down at you, concerned. 

“Not all the time. And he knows Emily, they’ve, um, hooked up before.” You looked away, shrugging, fighting down your discomfort. 

Gaz blew out a breath, muttering something you couldn’t understand. “If you ever want to talk,” he offered slowly, carefully, “I’m here. Yeah?”

You stopped, then, frowning at him. “Why?” 

“Because you’re sweet, and you deserve to have someone support you.” Gaz shrugged. “Since that idiot is too blind to see what’s right in front of him, I’ll do what I can.” 

You held his gaze, frowning just a little, looking for any signs of teasing or deceit. But you found none. So you nodded slowly. “Okay. Thank you.” 

He just nodded, smiling a little, and walked you the rest of the way to your apartment building in silence. “Have a good night.”

“You too.” You took one last look at him and then went inside. 

Life would be so much less complicated if you could just… fall out of love with Johnny. You’d probably even be happier for it. 

But you couldn’t. It was out of your hands - your heart had decided and didn’t seem to be budging any time soon. 

With a low groan, you gave up and flopped face-first into bed. Maybe you’d manage to smother yourself. Then you wouldn’t have to deal with all of this. 

Johnny texted you over the next couple days, but didn’t invite you anywhere. You knew one day he dragged Gaz off on a full day hiking adventure - you advised Gaz to bring chemical heat packs, because Johnny always forgot. 

But this was a good thing. A little space to get your head on straight again, to shove that longing back in its box where it belonged. Where you could absolutely bury it. 

Saturday you didn’t get an invitation. You just got knocking on your door, too bright and early. You stumbled over to the door, bleary-eyed, and yanked the door open to yell at whatever fool dared disturb you this early.

Only to be met head-on with Johnny’s puppy dog pout.

You glowered for a solid four seconds before you sighed and left the door open, going to the kitchen instead. You needed caffeine. 

“I brought you some,” Johnny bribed, following you in. “Here.” He held out a to-go cup. You could tell from the smell it was just the way you liked.

“What do you want, Johnny?” You took your cup, curling around it, not quite awake enough to be embarrassed about your state of dress. 

“It’s Gaz’s last day here,” he said, looking hopeful. “Was hopin’ you’d spend it with us.”

“You have plans?” you asked on a sigh. You already knew you’d say yes.

“Nah, figured we’d figure it out as we went.” 

“Fine. Let me get dressed.” You took your cup with you into your room, shutting the door pointedly. 

This was going to be an absolute disaster, you could tell. But you were going to see it through anyway. Because you were a damned fool. 

Johnny was quick to grin when you rejoined him, pulling you along in his orbit as he led. His mood was contagious, and always had been. Before long, you were no longer grumpy, smiling along and letting the other two lead. 

The day really wasn't a total disaster. Actually you had a lot of fun. You went on an easy hike, tried a new place for lunch, explored an art museum, and had finally stopped back at your pub for dinner and a few drinks. 

Gaz excused himself for a minute and Johnny leaned into your space, comfortable and easy. 

"Y'know, he might fancy you," he murmured with a conspiratorial wink. "If ye wanted to…" He wiggled his eyebrows, playful and suggestive. 

But you just stared at him, blank at first, but with growing pain. "He doesn't fancy me."

Johnny snorted. "Think I know him a bit better’n you do, sweets." 

You shook your head, disbelieving. He could not possibly be this blind. "He doesn't fancy me, Johnny. I know. We had a conversation." 

"You–what? When?" He leaned forward, eyes bright, clearly expecting gossip. 

You scoffed a laugh, looking up at the ceiling. "After the football game, when you left with Emily." 

He looked away briefly, jaw clenching. "Oh." 

"Yes, oh." You shook your head, looking at your half-finished drink and knowing you weren't going to finish it. "He and I talked a lot that night. He's nice. He's a good friend. But we both know he and I won't go anywhere." 

"Oh? Ye ken, do ye?" He leaned in, a challenge in his eyes. "How do ye ken?" 

"Because I love you, you absolute dafty." 

The words escaped entirely without permission, and your eyes went wide. The world froze. You couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. You just stared at Johnny as his eyes went wide too, uncomprehending. 

You didn't wait for reality to set in. You fled. Someone may have called after you, but you could barely hear through the rushing in your ears, your heart pounding so loud against your ribs that it hurt. 

You didn't stop until you were back in your flat, shaky hands locking the door. Which was about when reality set in. You'd told him. You'd told him. And there was no way to laugh it off as a joke now, no way to take it back or stuff it back down. 

Somehow, you ended up in the shower, pressed against the wall, gasping breaths humid and heaving. 

You weren't sure you'd ever recover from this. 

But you forced yourself to move. Because what else was there to do, now? You couldn't go back. You couldn't take it back. 

You had to move. 

In this case, that meant finishing your shower. Cleaning up your clothes. Putting on your baggiest sweatshirt, the one that made you feel okay because it was simultaneously like being hugged and being hidden, and curling up on the couch. And turning your phone on silent so you could ignore it. 

That wouldn't work forever, and you knew it. But it would work for now. You just needed it to work for now. 

Sunday was a blur. You barely remembered what you did. You had no idea what you ate, if you even ate. When you did dare to check your phone, you had a dozen missed calls and even more texts. 

You ignored the ones from Johnny for now. Just the thought threatened to send you back into a panic spiral. 

But Gaz should be safe. 

Soap told me. That was definitely a way to do it. 

Let us know you're home safe, yeah?

I get it if you don't want to talk. You don't have to. 

Flying out today. Text me when you can. 

Let one of us know you're safe or he might break down your door. 

Please.

You breathed slowly, reading through them again. Nothing about how Johnny felt, how he'd reacted. 

You weren't sure if that was a blessing or a curse. 

I'm fine. I'm home. I hope you had a safe flight. Sorry I didn't see you off. 

You hit send before you could talk yourself out of it, and promptly hid again. 

One more day and Johnny would be going to visit his family for the holidays. 

You left a full half hour earlier than normal to go to work, anxious and keyed up and unable to sleep. 

But you couldn't break your habits, not entirely. You scrolled past all the texts Johnny had left you, too anxious to read most of them, and sent him a quick text. 

Have a safe trip, John. 

You put your phone away again before the temptation to read through his texts got the better of you at work. 

But you couldn't hold off once you got back home. 

Most of his texts were check ins, requests to call him or text him, let him know you were okay. A few were apologies. 

But one… 

Sweets please call me, please. We can talk this out. I'm a damn fool but I swear I'll make it up to you. 

And that? Well, that could really go either way, couldn't it?

You buried your face in your pillow and cried. Just a little. For lost things and broken things. For things you couldn't have. 

Two more days of work and then you had the rest of the year off. You could make it two more days without breaking down. 

Have you talked to Soap yet? Gaz asked via text the next day. 

Not yet. You were a little ashamed to admit it. But only a little. 

Call him. We had a long talk last night. It will be okay. 

You stuffed your phone away again before your hands could start shaking any worse, anxiety and insecurity surging. 

You dragged yourself home from work Wednesday and froze. 

Johnny was standing outside your flat, shoulders hunched, hair wild like he'd been pulling on it. He spotted you and froze, expression torn between hope and fear. 

"Johnny?" You approached slowly, keys in hand. "You're… here?" 

"Aye." He scratched the side of his head, shifting his weight. "Talked to my ma. And Gaz. Ma told me to, uh. Fix this." 

"Fix?" Your heart went cold at the thought, and you shook your head. "It's hardly your fault, Johnny, you don't have to–" 

"Please." He put one hand over yours, light as a feather. Just enough to make you realize your hands were shaking even as you tried to unlock the door. 

You'd always been terrible at telling him no. So you swallowed and nodded, pushing open the door for the both of you. 

"Can I get you anything?" You glanced at him as you put your things down, kicking off your shoes. 

He shook his head, watching as you buzzed around for a minute, putting things away and getting water for the both of you anyway. You couldn't bear the look in his eyes, the quiet grief there. 

So you tried to head it off. 

"Really, Johnny, you don't have to fix anything. I'm… I'll be okay." 

"Were you ever going to tell me?" He watched you now, gaze pinning you in place. 

"Not if I could help it." You gulped. "It was… you didn't reciprocate, and I didn't want to ruin our friendship. I didn't want this exact thing to happen." 

"What made you think I don't have feelings for you?" He spoke slowly and carefully. 

"John." You shook your head. "I've seen the kind of woman you go home with, and they don't… look like me." 

He winced. Actually winced. "That's not…" He trailed off, anguished eyes meeting yours, struggle clear on his face. 

"It's okay." You even managed to smile. "I know I'm not exactly the standard of beauty, and I'm not anyone's first choice. I understand." 

"But ye are!" He jumped to his feet, pacing in front of the couch. "Sweets, I never ask those people over ta mine, ye ken? They ask me." 

You blinked. That was… surprising, granted. But it didn't change much. "Okay?" 

He sighed, short and sharp, tugging at his mohawk again. "I did flirt with ye." 

"What?" You blinked at him, absolutely stupefied. 

"In the beginning. Tried flirting. Ye dinnae seem open to it, so ah stopped." 

"You… with me?" You were still stuck on that, brain whirring, trying to go back through your memories of your early friendship with him. 

"Aye, with ye." He looked sad for some reason you didn't understand. 

"When?!" You stared at him, flabbergasted. 

He huffed a little laugh. "Plenty." He stared at you, halted several steps away. "Ye didn't ken?"

"I had no idea." You slumped a little. 

He snorted, a little wet, and scrubbed his hand through his hair. "Any idiot would be lucky to have ye." 

"Any idiot…?" Hope curled around your heart, delicate but growing every moment. 

Johnny crossed the room, dropping to his knees in front of you, hands bracketing your thighs. "I would be lucky," he amended, looking up at you earnestly. 

"You don't mean that." Tears pricked in your eyes, and you blinked rapidly. 

"I do." Slowly, carefully, one hand migrated to your knee. "I really do." 

You gasped at the intensity of his gaze, trembling a little. "But I'm…" you trailed off, hands clenched tight in the hem of your shirt. 

"Beautiful." He sat up on his knees, leaning in closer. "Warm." His other hand landed on your other knee. "Kind." Both hands squeezed gently. "One o' the sweetest people I ken." 

"Johnny…" You stared at him, lips parted, hope and longing and disbelief all swirled up together in your chest. 

"Please, sweets." He shifted closer to you, hands rubbing restlessly but never progressing past the tops of your knees. "Lemme show ye, prove to ye I mean it." 

"Okay." 

You weren't sure who moved first, you or him. But it ended the same: kissing him, one palm against his jaw, the other in his hair, while he pressed as close to you as he could get. You slowly spread your knees and he moaned softly, immediately shuffling into the space presented, still on his knees. 

"So sorry, sweets." He kissed you again, one hand lifting to the back of your neck, holding you where he wanted you. "Ah'm an eejit." 

"We both are," you whispered, thumb stroking over his cheek tenderly. 

"Now, sweets, won't hear a word against ye." He pulled back, grinning when you tried to chase his lips. "Got it?"

"Fine, but please don't stop." You tightened your grip in his hair, trying to pull him back to you. 

Another several minutes were lost to kissing that slowly calmed from desperate to just lovely, slower and exploratory and open-mouthed and messy. 

"Come home wi' me," Johnny murmured in between placing sweet kisses along your jaw. 

"What?" You felt a little fried, like this was the best kind of dream, or like you had short-circuited and needed to reboot. 

"Promised Ma ah'd ask." 

"She's okay with this?" You felt bashful suddenly, dropping your gaze to your knees. 

Johnny laughed softly, nuzzling right at your pulse. "Threatened to kick me out, actually," he said, humor in his voice now. "If ah messed this up." 

You hid behind one hand, hot and flustered and trying to hide just how pleased you were. 

"Nah, none o' that,'' he clucked, pulling your hand away from your face. "Wanna see ye, sweets." 

And how could you say no to those eyes? "I mean…. If you're sure she's okay with it…" 

"More than okay," he reassured you, leaning up again to press his forehead to yours. 

"Then… okay." Your eyes suddenly widened. "I'll have to pack, and I don't have gifts for your family!"

"Ach, donnae fuss," he grumbled, though he was grinning. Beaming, really. "You are a gift." 

"That was awful." But you relaxed again, smiling. 

"Mm. Might'a been." His grin turned predatory, short nails scratching lightly against the back of your neck to make you gasp. "Now, how 'bout I show ye what we've both been missing…? Show ye exactly how beautiful ye are." 

Doubt flashed, a big blinking light in your brain. But there was nothing in his eyes but sincerity and desire, nothing harmful in the way he looked at you, not a hint of doubt in the way he kissed you. 

So you breathed in slowly, wrestling down your inner demons, ignoring their cries and screeches. And you nodded. 

"Yes, Johnny." 

[centuryberry]

Imperial Harem Novel AU

Note: This wasn't really requested, but I've already summarized the Replanted AU, Abandoned Yue AU, and the Fae AU, so why not this one? This particular AU has a place in my heart - mostly because it's silly. Also because there was a plot twist in there that I never managed to address so I'm writing it out now.

Summary: When Wukong wakes up in a trashy imperial harem novel he'd been reading, he's horrified. Why? Because he's in the body of a character who shares his name - a tyrant king who causes a lot of pain and suffering to everyone including the female lead. Wukong decides that, since he's here for the time being, he was going to fix the other him's mistakes and leave the world better than he found it by the time he finds a way back home.

(Sounds easy enough as a concept, but Wukong can't act for his life and he has serious imposter syndrome. Oh well, time to spam the amnesia button and fake it 'til he makes it.)

Everyone Else's POV:

The Monkey King was a tyrant who either spilt blood or added to his large harem. He selfishly ignored the matters of the crown and contributed to the suffering of his people.

Queen RinRin is left to manage the throne's affairs on her own, frustrated by her husband's selfishness and destructive tendencies.

Consort Macaque is tormented by the endless string of lovers his husband takes. He grows resentful after so many heartbreaks and lets it out on the harem. Violently.

Concubine Shanzha heard the rumors about the king. She tries to keep her head low but she's somehow gained his attention. And she's scared of all the trouble that is going to come with it.

Unexpectedly, the Monkey King suffered a head wound and was bedridden for days. Perhaps it was an assassination attempt? No one knows.

It didn't matter because the Monkey King woke up without his memories. It caused a bit of chaos all around. Everyone expected even more trouble.

To everyone surprise, he didn't.

The king started to participate in state affiars. He was clumsy and inexpierienced, but he was still trying his best. RinRin finds herself charmed by this new version of her husband.

While he doesn't remember Macaque, the king has become far more considerate and had dissolved the harem. The consort's resentment and bitterness was all but forgotten.

While the majority of the harem disbanded, Shanzha had to stay because of her political hostage position. But...it wasn't that bad? The king was respectful and gave her a lot of agency. She could pray and shoot at the archery range when she pleased.

Everyone doesn't say it out loud, but they liked this new king better. They hoped he never got his memories back.

Wukong's POV:

He's freaking out y'all.

I mean, it's pretty obvious, but it still needed to be said. He was freaking out.

Wukong didn't finish reading the novel before he was yeeted into it. He got so frustrated that he tossed it away. He regrets it so much now.

Wukong is the sheer definition of faking it til you make it. He spammed the HELL out of his amnesia while he tried to get into the groove of his role as Emperor.

Wukong's initial goal was to survive and not have any one find out he was an imposter. Then, after seeing just how much the OG!Wukong fucked everything up, he took it upon himself to unfuck as much as he can.

Good news: Wukong is making more progress than he expected. He's taking some of the load off of RinRin's shoulders by participating in meetings; he's taking away the major stressor in Macaque's life by dissolving the harem; and he's trying to make Shanzha's time in the kingdom as bearable as possible.

Bad news: All three of them somehow took his actions as an invitation to start trying to seduce him. Don't get him wrong. They're all gorgeous and amazing - Wukong isn't blind - but he's not really their husband. He's just some loser who hijacked their real husband's body. So he puts on the "I don't know I'm dumb" vizor on and hopes to high hell that no one sees through it.

They eventually do, so Wukong elects to scream and run.

When Shanzha opened up to Wukong and told him about her life and of her niece, he cried. He was always a sucker for tragic backstories. Why didn't the novel talk about this?

Not long after, he requested demanded Shanzha's homeland to send over her niece. Shanzha was overwhelmed when he gave her the exciting news.

Since Wukong taking a ward was huge, the entire court were there to recieve Yue. It was actually the first time RinRin and Shanzha crossed paths. It was butterflies at first "hi" for the queen who was regretting not being more involved with the harem.

Shanzha and Yue's reunion was so tearjerking that Wukong had to take a minute. Then, it was revealed that Yue was actually Macaque's family too. The six ears kinda made it obvious. Plot twist after plot twist, why didn't the author of the trash novel focus on THIS?!

Wukong never saw a baby monkey before so he's practically exploding because of Yue's cuteness. He was super duper doting.

Wukong also saw a way out of the entire "making an heir" business, so he names Yue his heir and hopes that this stops his spouses from trying to jump him.

It doesn't. Wukong's "Baba" energy just made him even more irresistable. Sorry Wukong.

The three have also joined forces. Oh no.

The Plot Twist:

One day, little Yue blinks up at Wukong and asks him if he can pretty please take her to see the nearby waterfall together. When he does, Yue takes advantage of the waterfall being a natural white noise machine to talk to him.

Yue: "You're a transmigrator too, aren't you?" Wukong: 😮"Whaaaaaaa-?!"

Yup, Yue's a transmigrator. She also read the trashy novel - all of it. So she has all the deets, which Wukong begs off of her by helping her reach high places and giving her treats.

Everyone: Aww, he's so good with her Wukong: Oh wise senior, please share your wisdom Yue: Tell the cooks to make the Dan Dan Noodles extra spicy hot and I'll think about it

Yue also helps her fellow homie out by being a deterrent for romantic advances. Can't talk or do anything beyond PG around the baby.

Wukong tells Yue about his plan to run away after setting everything and leaving the kingdom to her and she bluntly tells him that it was a dumb plan.

Yue: "At least wait until I'm not a baby to abdicate."

Yue also (gently) breaks it to Wukong that he's stuck here. The him in his original reality is most likely dead.

So, after a bit of spiraling, Wukong approaches his spouses and tells them the truth.

It was a bit shocking and they (Macaque and RinRin) needed some time to come to terms with the revelation, but this doesn't deter the three of them in the slightest. They're all in love with this Wukong and want to spend the rest of their lives with him.

(By the time Yue comes of age, Wukong does accept their advances enough to give her cute little brothers lol.)

[unhinged-comics-screaming]

Bravern Ep 9 thoughts! Oh my god this got so long I'm sorry

I think if I was more genre aware the transformation/level up shouldn't be a surprise. I am actually fine having to remake the decal because I had to lift it up to fix how I applied it so its already lifting lol.

I'm glad that the theories are right like, a plot twist that can be predicted via foreshadowing isn't bad plus it helps my "keep shows weekly" fight. I honestly think the ramp up of hint dropping is done well like "oh he has lewis vibes, oh he knows a thing about Lewis, oh here's a direct showcase that they have the same gunpla hobby" (btw I love that they got an actual gundam box artist to do the ones in the show, such commitment to the bit). The final nail in the coffin being the Lewis flashback where his favorite toy looks a whole lot like Bravern.

For how mysterious Deathdrives were for a while, I like that the limbo zone reinforces the kind of importance in passing on on their terms for them. Just like, restating that this is the core motivation for them. Like yeah this is Cunty's goal death but Lewis isn't satisfied yet so he's in their loading zone going like "hey no this isn't right for me". My only complaint is that I wanted whole ass. No glowy cowardice. Full naked and just enough to keep it aired on TV.

The like, entire thing that gets me though is that Isami is now living thinking that Smith is dead. And he like. Is. If we consider the overly uh horny parts of Bravern to be from Cunus then he's not 100% himself in the end. Like he sees himself as Smith but is it wholly him? Like Smith is happy he can protect and save the world and have Isami inside him. But especially with Bravern/Smith being all shady Isami is just going to have to mourn him.

I hope that this makes Lulu get closer to Isami and she ends up revealing it somehow. Ooooor Isami is on such a wavelength with Bravern he figures it out on his own. I just want him to know. Bravern has a mouth to be kissed after all.

I don't have any idea what Lulu is cooking but I wanna see it. I like that she's getting agency which, apparently to Deathdrives, is totally unheard of.

The alternate timeline theories slap. Everyone who is able to point out proper discrepancies between episodes I love you keep it up. I don't have the mental capacity for that. I kind of want to go with "world without Bravern" ED/promotional art stuff to be like, final loop maybe? I don't know what kind of time loop that needs to work but like, maybe he takes Lulu with so he doesn't need Isami and can defeat the Deathdrives really early on.

Which. Interesting thought. Before Cunus' proposal she yeets one of her Lulus but appears to have two spots. Lewis, also a two life form system yeets his Lulu so you'd think the resultant mech is a two life form mech, the Lulu from Cunus + Lewis himself makes it whole but he clearly isn't in top form unless he has Isami. Bravern is also more than a Deathdrive/Special TS so who knows how that maths out.

Ugh okay sorry this got so long congrats on getting this far. I like, clearly don't have anime friends to scream about this irl except my partner who watched me go through the spectrum of "gay sex wins" to crying for Isami.

[hchollym]

Little background I'm childfree, so I have two relevant head-cannons. Feel free not to answer if you feel these are too political.

What is do you think Molly and Arthur's reaction be if one of their favored kids, say Bill or Ginny be if they decided not to have kids (ignoring the last part of DH).

Maybe Ginny knows there is no way she can be a pro Quiddich player if she gets pregnant or Bill decides he wants the married life but not kids. I imagine with the others while it would hurt the relationship, but it could be excused for any number of reasons.

Based on a common 'bingo' asked of childfree women, do you think it's possible that the bad with money Molly and Arthur assumed that their kids would take care of them when they are elderly. Which kid do you think got saddled with them?

Growing up I'd assume that Percy was the son chosen for that task especially when the older brothers yeeted upon graduation. I just get the feeling that Percy was initially chosen to be the one but after the fight, I'm not so sure.

I don't mind answering political questions at all. 😉

Oof. That is not going to go over well, and I don't think it matters much if it's a favored kid or not. Either way, Arthur doesn't really care, but Molly tries to guilt trip them constantly - crying, talking about how children give your life meaning, saying that she doesn't want them to miss out on such a precious gift, etc. It puts a definite strain on their relationship, and whoever it is gets tired of having to deal with it, so they don't come around much.

I highly doubt Charlie came back to visit often, because Molly kept setting him up with blind dates (i.e. inviting women over for dinner) no matter how many times he told her to stop. It would honestly be bad for any of them, but I imagine it's worse for Bill & Ginny because of their partners. Bill would have to constantly deal with Molly blaming Fleur, and Ginny would have to constantly deal with Molly's horrible comments about how she's depriving Harry of happiness and the family he never had growing up.

To answer your second question, I do think Molly & Arthur assumed that one of their kids would take care of them when they got older (if necessary), just like Molly assumed she would take care of Aunt Muriel when the time came. It may not have been spoken about, but the expectation was always there.

I think it's (subconsciously) part of the reason they tried so hard for a girl - statistically speaking, daughters are far more likely to take care of ailing parents than sons (and that expectation is yet another way the Weasleys are misogynistic). So I think they originally hoped Ginny would do it, but that obviously didn't work. I'm not insulting Ginny at all, but I definitely don't think she would be the one to care for them.

Once they realized that, Bill was their next best hope. He's the oldest, cherished son, who does try to act responsibly when he's in town (letting Ron stay with him, distracting Molly when she gets upset about Percy, trying to keep the peace with her by being passive, etc.). That's partially why Molly hated his marriage to Fleur so much, because Fleur threw a huge wrench into that plan.

I do think Bill would help them financially - he has a decent job and makes enough money that he could manage, and I picture him as feeling a fiscal obligation to them. But if Molly & Arthur need physical help (such as moving in with him, needing help changing/bathing, etc.), then that's a giant no. Bill (and Fleur) are not doing it.

Similarly, I also think George, Ginny, and Ron would help financially (if possible), but that's about it, and to be honest, I doubt Charlie would even help in that way.

So that leaves Percy.

Percy and his spouse get stuck with the physical and emotional burden. I've said it before, and I'll say it again - Percy has Oldest Daughter Syndrome. His parents may not have originally expected him to be their caregiver, but when you think about it, it was pretty much inevitable the whole time. 😢

Thanks for the ask! 😊

[lucigoo]

New Hobbit HC unlocked! Hobbits are awesome and get the job done (you ever been a farmer, its hard!) and they wer at the Last Battle and the leves and Isildur needed a hobbit in that volcano to get the job done becuase ELROND SURE AS HELL DIDNT! The Tooks that came back form war came back disappointed and now its a saying in the Shire that instead of half arsing something, you "Elrond it!" because Elrond the Half-Elven half arsed destroying the one ring. Bilbo has often told a young Frodo that if there was a hobbit in there with them, Isildur would have been yeeted into that volcano before anyone culd even blink. That brings us to a quest where Bilbo is NOT enamoured with the elves and Thorin falls in love with him much quicker. And that idea led me to here. becuase HC's equal plot bunnes right???

Bilbo glared at Thorin as he sneered at his own nephews. The boys he had adored less than a week ago.

Bilbo watched as they walked out of the throne room dejectedly after another rebuttal by their beloved uncle.

All Bilbo could do was give them a soft smile and then frown when Thorin shouted him over to whisper about secrets and spies and being betrayed.

Bilbo looked aorund at the absurd amounts of treasure surrounding them, and then at th edwarf he loved and all he could do was shake his head and go to walk away.

Befor he got to the door Thorin raced after him, grabbing him roughly by the arm. "Where are you going?" he hissed at Bilbo.

Bilbo had had enough. The Company may tiptoe around their gold mad king, but he wasn't Bilbo's king.

"Away form here. I am going outside. Where the only gold I need or want to see is that of the sun," Bilbo hissed back.

He suddenly made a sharp noise when Thorin's grip tightened. "You are hurting me Thorin. Let go!"

"So you can betray me too?" Thorin sneered back.

"NOBODY HAS BETRAYED YOU!" Bilbo roared at the dwarf before him, pulling his arm away forcefully. "It is actually the other way around," he said to the gobsmacked, crazy dwarf before him.

"What does that mean? I do nothing but protect my people," Thorin said, suddenly looking at Bilbo confused.

"Thorin, your people arent here, and the ones that are, well, you just threatened to chop Dwalin's head off for Yavanna's sake," he said as he threw his hand sup in the air in annoyance.

"Because he is trying to …"

"Betray you, yes, I heard. the entirety of this side of the Misty mountains heard I'm sure," Bilbo interrupted dismissively. "Dwalin, the dwarf who has always been beisde you. Your best friend, your shield brother, the one who helped you provide for your nephews, the sons of your heart. That Dwalin is trying to betray you? Yeah alright. I know your sick, but I didn't realise that made you stupid!" Bilbo said as he glared at Thorin.

"Bilbo …"

"Don't you Bilbo me. Your such … such an Elrond!" he spat out in contempt.

"You would dare compare me to an elf?" Thorin roared, trying to use his larger body size to intimidate Bilbo.

Bilbo was far form intimidated. All he felt was sad and weary when he looked at the dwarf before him and saw how far he had fallen. "Your worse then Elrond. He may have screwed up, but the biggest difference between he and you is that he DIDN”T turn against his own kin. Can you say the same Thorin?" Bilbo asked with a raised eyebrow.

Bilbo watched as Thorin's expression kept changing form frustrated, to angry, to confused. He just hoped he was getting through to him.

"Your acting so Elrondric. Do you know that? Going back on your word, especially when you know how it feels to have your home burnt and your people murdered by Smaug and your going back on your word, failing in your duty and ignoring the promises you made. How elven of you!" Bilbo sneered at Thorin before he moved to walk away.

He turned when he heard a very confused "Bilbo …" be called out.

Bilbo turned and this time he looked at Thorin with nothing but pity. "Sort yourself out Thorin. Your the only one who ca. But Elrond cause countles sdeaths by failing to stop a ring mad Isildur that day. i will not let that be our fate, if there was a volcano ea rus, i would kick you into it without a second thought, regardless of how mich I love you if it save Fili and Kili and Ori," he said as he tried to stem the tears he hadn't realsed were falling down his face.

Bilbo watched as Thorin took a staggered step forward. "You love me?" he gasped out.

"Yes, but I love myslef more and I will not stad by and let you kill us all." With that Bilbo turned his back on Thorin and left in his overly full and yet completely empty treasure room.

Before he left the room, he dropped something. SOmething that didn;t clink lke gold and jewels.

Thorin slowly stepped forward until he saw Bilbo's acorn in the centre of the doorway. He tured around to look at the vast piles of wealth behind him. the treasure, the legacty of his people and he realised he had a choice to make.

With great difficulty, his feet feeling like they were trapped in molten ore, he slowly walked towards Bilbo's little acorn.

Your welcome into the absurdity that is my mind!

[the-heaminator]

Idk if you already been asked but girl give us your hcs on New Zealand. name, gender, relation with the other bitches

Ngl my New Zealand is mostly just stolen from @historia-vitae-magistras (I hope you dont mind me tagging you,) her stuff is GREAT.

But here it is in the shortform.

Name: Eleanor....ngl I dont actually have a last name for her??? I never realised that I put her as like 18-20 in the modern era

Height. Around 5'7-5'8, I want her to be tall, robust, and an inch taller than Arthur, better nutrition and all, shes...robust, no better way to put it, shes healthy, tall, and can and will yeet Jack, even as he is built like a brick shithouse. Only has to go on her tippytoes sometimes, mmmmm shes a very good hugger when she does hug, which is rare. Unless you're Jack, she hugs her idiot older brother a lot.

Relation with other bitches as you very concisely put it.

Jack is her sunshine demon of an older brother, she does have to reign him in sometimes, stop him from accidentally killing himself, he does the same for her on occasion, they ho drinking together. When pissed she gains a level of confidence that is frankly terrifying for someone as sharp as a whip as she is, they go surfing together. Zee loves birds, Jack is pretty much a reptile, man starts brumating when it gets too cold, she likes sitting in trees. Like a bird.

She bitches and whines a lot with him but like usually, not always, but usually in a good natured way and is not against physically knocking some common sense into him.

With Matthew it's like tender but also a little more distant than it used to be, he was basically the stand on parental figure for her while the kirllands were out doing fuck knows what, after she got her independence it is still very close and caring but not as much as it used to be.

She is also very blunt when she wants to be. Not something Matt is used to so she will go up and tell his lanky ass that he needs to eat, sleep, and lay off the fucking weed for a bit or he will end up in a ditch somewhere with a squirrel up his arse. Shes direct and a little scary. Matt usually listens to her because again she is not afraid to use blunt force trauma.

Her relationship with Alfred is odd, it is more a business type relationship, he was never really around for her upbringing so she doesnt see him as a brother or anything, more like a far removed cousin. But besides that they and matt absolutely love bitching about people together, like in a corner. It's kindif funny. jack does not join very often unless its winter, he's cold, and has to do official shit, then he gets awfully similar to Arthur and has soooooo much shit with everyone. Hes a little scary like that. Alfred kind of like, tries, to seem familliar bit it never actually works, so hes kind of given up, the business relationship is pretty good though.

Fuck this ask is getting long I need to shut up but I shan't

Anyways now the hard part is her relationship with the isles

She sees Arthur as a father figure, but like a distant one, hes warmed up a little in recent decades but still seems quite cold, even if unintentionally, hes just really really really repressed like that, but he is protective over her, he is protective over all of them but will personally raise hell if anyone touches a finger on his little girl even as she isnt all that little anymore, he tries but it isnt enough, but the sentiment is appreciated, he was strict with her, but not really in gender roles bc again Arthur is not really the type to be fussy about gender, bug he made sure she was s art, if not physically stronger she will be smarter, and she is, and is also strong so a win win for her.

Hes the softest with her when sober, like a little bit of him melts because shes the youngest, she's a girl, and he's kind if getting old now, but is happy to just sit in silence with her. With say Alfred they always have ti be talking or moving or something, Alfred got it from Arthur and it just kind of echoes back. With Matthew he has gotten more lax but still is professional with him, unless either or both are more rats assed then a scouser after a football match, with Jack he is nearly as soft as he is with her, just a little bit more restrained.

She finds it a little odd but not unwelcome that he is calmer with them, but sometimes his near inability to process feeling or feel sympathy or empathy absolutely drives her around the fucking bend. She gets angry at him a lot, for good reason too, historical and personal both. I wont get into them bc I'm nit that well versed in their history.

With alisdair it's very much an uncle situation, same with rhys, and a closer aunt with Brighid, unlike Matt who had Alisdair as basically a stand in parent while Arthur was drunk, or busy, or Jack who has called brighid mum before, they all feel somehwat distant, she likes Brighid but does find her a little intense, most people do but she isn't complaining too much, she has the widest emotional bandwidth of any of the isles and is also the best at comforting by far, Zee likes to feel physically grounded and none of the Kirklands can do hugs without being very awkward about it, closest is the slightly tipsy hugs that Alisdair gives when he sees her looking down.

I dont actually have much developed for rhys or alisdair. I'm sorry :,) and I probably do have other thoughts I just cannot be asked to type it out rn so I hope this is satisfactory

[tildeathiwillwrite]

I realize that this is very very very very very niche, and probably nobody will even see this, but y'know what I don't give a fuck and I wanna infodump about Demigods of the Death Gate.

(TL:DR It's a Percy Jackson/Death Gate Cycle crossover fanfic that I came up with almost two years ago (fuck I can't believe it's been that long). I stuck Percy Jackson into the Death Gate Cycle setting of the first book and kinda just took it from there.)

It started with an AU idea for the first book of the Death Gate Cycle (a fantasy series published in the 90's) that ended up turning into a crossover with PJO bc I thought that idea was far more interesting than just inserting an oc. I just went "hey, what if King Stephen and Queen Anne's true son didn't die?" and later went "and what if that child was a version of Percy Jackson with the water powers and shit?"

For those of you who don't know what the fuck Death Gate Cycle is, it's a seven part fantasy series written by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman about this guy Haplo and his dog who travel around these four realms with the intent of spreading chaos on orders from his lord. The first book, Dragon Wing, takes place on Arianus, and follows an assassin (known as Hugh the Hand) as he is hired by King Stephen to kill his twelve-year-old son, Bane. Minor spoilers but Bane isn't actually Stephen's real child, he is a changeling and the actual prince was kidnapped by a wizard for nefarious purposes, that's part of why Stephen wants him dead.

Now, in the book, it is revealed that Stephen and Anne's true child died because the place the evil wizard lived has a very thin atmosphere and he basically suffocated. My AU just went "no, he lives bc I say so."

So we got our MC, Perseus, raised by the evil wizard's wife Iridal and learning some magic by proxy. (and btw the evil wizard's name is Sinistrad. Fucking SINISTRAD. His entire personality is Evil Wizard™)

The first fic in my series, Dry, starts with him getting kicked out out (as you do) bc Sinistrad decided he would definitely get in the way of his very evil plans to take over the world.

Naturally, Perseus doesn't die, and also ends up saving Prince Bane from getting yeeted into the void by some elves. And his goal is to get back so he can save Iridal from her husband (and maybe kill him in the process, idk).

My favorite thing from writing this fic was the interactions I got to write between Perseus and the other characters he meets, including Hugh, Bane, Alfred, Limbeck, Haplo, Haplo's dog, etc.

I'm not going to spoil the fic's ending but I ended up getting invested enough to start writing a second book based off Elven Star, the second book in the Death Gate Cycle. This fic, Defy, followed Annabeth on her search for a mythological structure in the second realm on Haplo's journey, Pyran.

I just hope I have enough of a hyperfixation upon the series that I'm able to bring it to a proper close. It's been a thing I've been doing for myself, because it's so niche that I've accepted that it's never gonna blow up, but I'm hoping that by posting it it'll bring more people into the Death Gate Cycle fandom.

And uhh if you read to the end of this post here have a gold star ⭐ or maybe a wave 🌊

[samsspambox]

hi sam its been a while!( ´ ∀ `)ノ, the reason being i was nominated by the WHOLE FRIGGIN CLASS to join a 3 CONTESTS(╬`益´),it was stressful but i did have fun learning more! And tomorrow well be having our christmas party and then finally a break from school! which got me thinking what party games are the tot boys good and bad at? thats all, have a wonderful day sam!!! (♡°▽°♡)

heyo cute nonnie! honestly i've been busy af too with all this finals nonsense, so don't sweat it!! i hope you had fun in your contests tho!

but, party games! i don't go out often enough to say i'm a party animal, but i know my way around musical chairs (i'm, surprisingly, much more familiar with baby shower games! the woes of an older sibling)

anyway!

Party Games with the NXX!

Vyn would be very good at cup pong! he's got the aim and he's got the alcohol tolerance to go with it. Dr. Richter will not hesitate to demolish you in cup pong and make you drink your weight loss in beer. he's really bad at telephone. he just can't understand when someone is whispering super low, it sounds like mumbles to him! he always fucks it up.

Luke would be very good at musical chairs! fucker would get hella competitive tho. will pull the chair right from under you so you fall on your ass just so he can sit on it. once yeeted a chair just so someone else wouldn't have gotten to it. he's bad at tug of war, not bc he won't win, no. it's bc he doesn't know his own strength. the opposing team will go flying and eat shit. no one wants to play tug of war with him like that.

Artem is strangely good at charades/heads up! i think it only took him like, a singular try to guess 'Ash Ketchum' once. people thought he was cheating. he's really bad at hide and seek, though. he just always picks the obvious places and he has this... air about him. the vibe always changes when he's in the room, he's too intense sometimes. you can point him out in a room LMAO.

Marius is stupid good at limbo it's unfair. he's so tall he should've toppled over ages ago, but he can drop low. like sir, are your ankles okay? he's really bad at aiming, though, so add a blindfold? he's bad at trying to hit the piñata. he genuinely wants the candy tho, so that's a problem. oh my god he has the worst luck with piñatas too, once got whacked with the stick someone let slip. he was so far away from it too!!

thank you for your ask cute nonnie!

[x-authorship-x]

I am SO loving this sudden influx of Shisui/Founders asks they're such interesting pairings

Also, any thought on how Shisui and Kagami would interact if Shisui was yeeted in the past? I just love the idea of Shisui sort-of adopting big-brother-style (or father-style depending on how far back Shisui ends up/how much age difference there is) his own grandfather who is now younger than him and just creating chaos together everywhere lmao

Hey, Anon!

It's a lot of fun, I'm glad you're enjoying the discourse ☺️ I'm not exactly well-versed in Founders Era Canon so everyone should please bear in mind that I'm just playing around and a lot of this will be based on Fanon too 🥹

Okay, so Kagami and Shisui are a truly excellent duo and there are a few reasons why

Let's have a look 👀

Shisui is a sweetheart and he loves his village, notable in a time when the Uchiha are increasingly disenchanted and disenfranchised. Where is this from? Kagami! If not his grandfather directly (who I have as dying young in defence of Uzushio etc) then stories of his exploits with Tobirama and the Team.

Kagami is amazing, he doesn't just tolerate the Senju but he walks right into the lion's den and is taught by Tobirama himself, who had been the Scourge of Uchiha for decades... What a king. Just from the flashes of his expression (😅) that we see, to me he looks emotionally sensitive and very empathetic, he possibly had a Mangekyou which means he was strong enough to survive whatever trauma unlocked that level of his Sharingan (as well as being a student of Tobirama, which says a lot about how good his education was). In my Headcanons, he was savvy enough to be the Ambassador to Uzushio, which is a place stuffed to the brim with creative genius, and he was an inspiration to Mikoto, who I have as his daughter.

If they meet, where they are both adults, then it's like... so much joy? Shisui is so hyped and emotional to meet the man himself and Kagami is breathtakingly delighted to meet! His! Grandson! Omg hi! It is the meeting of two golden retriever puppies, falling over each other and so euphoric to be there. Once the novelty is gone, Kagami is proven to be more politically savvy - "no, argh, take this mess to the other clan heads and form a coalition-" - whereas Shisui is physically quicker and a better fighter. Yeah, Kagami was taught by Tobirama but Shisui would out-fight Tobirama as well. Kagami might have (?) experienced the Warring Clan's, but Shisui was an actual prodigy who has lived through war as well and he's also got the benefit of the innovation of the future! Kagami is sharp and reassuring to Shisui, Shisui is proof that peace works but also that they need to lay better foundations, and they just put their heads together and get so much great stuff done 👍

If Kagami is a kid.... Shisui is gonna protect the SHIT out of him, NO ONE WILL HURT ONE HAIR ON HIS HEAD 😤 ...they will be slightly eerie together 😅 they look so much alike, especially when Kagami is young so you can't see much of his bone structure, and Kid!Kagami brings out Shisui's own joy and hopefulness, so you just get like a Big Me and Mini Me duo. Kagami is extremely excited

If Shisui is a kid and Kagami is older... It's very emotional. Shisui has been strong for so long, Kagami is gonna be like a security blanket and Shisui will trust him with everything, even news of Danzo's treachery, and Kagami will believe him because there is a bond there. Kagami might be Shisui's biological grandfather but from the moment they meet? Dad!Kagami activated. Shisui is gonna be very soft and a little weepy and Kagami's rage will be beautiful ❤️

This was so wholesome, what a great dynamic to ponder, Anon! Have a great weekend 😊

[britcision]

Mooooore Dragon Age Inquisition Crimes!

Should I be working on the serious part so I can yeet this self indulgent nonsense onto AO3 where the partner @ekwolfwood can peruse it as his leisure?

Yes

Am I doing that?

No

What am I doing? Silly bs, snippets, and extremely gently whumping his best boy! So he’s not gonna mind

Gonna whump him for real later when Corin is not around to be the adult 😈

Today’s is based on a very real in game occurrence where our good boy somehow wound up 8 stories deep into the storm coast cliffs, alone in the dark, surrounded by spiders

But this time he doesn’t find his way back

Featuring:

Lluciano Lavellan, team dumbass who forgets he goes invisible before accidentally teleporting out of the battle (he/him)

Corin Cadash, extremely reluctantly the responsible one only because no one else is taking the job (they/them)

—————————

Spiders

The cave was dark, all angular pillars of rock broken off at different points to make a floor and ceiling. No natural light this deep into the earth, and precious few torches.

Lavellan wasn’t sure how far he’d left the others behind, but he really hoped they’d be catching up soon.

He’d been relying on the lights the others carried as they delved deeper under the cliffs, and Vivienne’s spells.

But at some point he’d stepped off the edge of a taller ledge than he’d thought, or turned a corner, and now he couldn’t see anything. Except the spiders.

They’d come to these damn cliffs to hunt spiders of all things, and gather their silk for the requisitions officer. And, well, he’d found lots of spiders.

Lots. And lots. Of spiders. The big ones. The ones that came up to his waist, and he could stick a dagger in to the hilt and not have it come out the other side.

He knew; he’d tried it.

That had been bad enough before too, with Vivienne’s magic freezing and stunning them, and the Iron Bull charging in with his massive warhammer.

Cadash had finished it just before they’d left, and it was the perfect weapon for spider smashing.

Being practically dripping with spider guts also wasn’t helping his mood per se, but it was a distant second place to being alone in the dark, surrounded by spiders.

Every time he thought he’d killed the last one, he’d turn around and another would lunge out of the darkness.

Surely he should at least be able to hear them behind him.

Cadash wouldn’t leave him unsupervised.

There still wasn’t even a glimmer of light.

“CORIN!”

**

“Why the hell are we gathering fucking spider parts anyway?” Cadash growled, wrenching their axe out of another scuttling corpse.

Still not quite happy with the weight on it. Might go back to the mace when they got back to camp.

Vivienne let out a tinkling laugh behind them, a direct counter to the burst of chain lightning that pierced another two darkspawn and a spider.

“Darling, this was your idea. Don’t you know?” She asked archly, quick on her feet as she surveyed the area and planned her next attack.

Corin grunted and slammed the bottom of their shield down onto a darkspawn tail, knocking the damn thing back and into a wall before Varric put half a dozen arrows into it.

“Look, they tell me what they need, we go find it. I don’t try and remember why,” they grumbled, kicking at a spider corpse when it seemed they’d cleared the immediate area.

That meant it was time for looting.

The Iron Bull was already elbow deep in one of the spider’s guts, pulling out a throbbing gland with every sign of enjoyment. Varric had finished rewinding Bianca and begun wandering through the others, poking at likely bodies.

“They want the ichor to make antivenoms. Not everyone has a big strong qunari warrior to hide behind,” he added with a cheerful nod to Bull.

Bull grinned and flexed, utterly uncaring of the ooze spilling from the gland in his fist.

“Thedas can barely handle one of me,” he boasted proudly, then tossed the gland at Cadash. “One more for the bag.”

The gland splatted against their armour, falling to the floor as Corin looked around, frowning. Counting their friends once more for good measure.

“Where the fuck did Lluciano get to?” They asked into the sudden silence.

Vivienne glanced around, the tiniest frown crinkling her brow.

“Now don’t be a mother hen, dear. Surely we’d have noticed him going anywhere,” she said carefully, her staff glowing brighter to illuminate the cavern.

Not exactly as unconcerned as she pretended. Maybe for good reason; more than half the Inquisition considered Lluciano Lavellan to be Corin’s moral compass and impulse control, rolled into one.

Varric didn’t bother pretending, checking Bianca’s fresh bolt and safety catch and looking around too.

“With that invisibility thing he can do? I’m damn good at not being seen, but the kid’s unnatural. I lose track of him more often than not, and none of you are as good as me.”

It was the kind of comment Vivienne loved to argue with, with some prim noise of doubt or sly comment. The fact that she didn’t only highlighted her worry.

No fucking way they were splitting up to search down here; this deep in the caverns if they lost one another, they were more likely to fall through the world than find daylight again.

And no need to duplicate the original damn problem which came from splitting the party anyway.

Corin was about to call them to search when a faint noise echoed down the tunnels.

The Iron Bull turned after it like a hunting hound, eye narrowed before he charged.

“That’s him!” He called, stomping over darkspawn and spider corpses alike. But they probably had plenty of ichor now.

“Definitely a voice,” Varric agreed more half heartedly, but he hurried after Bull nonetheless, Vivienne and Cadash hot on his heels.

The tunnel went down a little further, curving under the rock and then the Iron Bull leapt and disappeared completely. Varric slammed into the wall to avoid following him, swearing loudly.

Cadash nearly hit Varric, and then Vivienne hurried to the top of a very steep ledge and held her staff out over the edge.

Bull had found Lluciano alright, and was currently pouring a potion into his mouth.

Their elf friend looked like hell; dripping with ichor more than any of the other four, battered and scraped, and surrounded by nearly as many corpses as they’d handled in the cave above.

Even with cuts healing as they watched he was pale, exhaustion clear in the way he sagged into Bull’s chest as he finished the potion.

“Last one too,” the Iron Bull noted, glancing up at Corin as his arm tightened on Lavellan, “think it’s time we head back.”

He didn’t usually make tactical calls unless asked, eager to keep the hierarchy between himself and the Inquisition as clear as possible. They ordered Bull, Bull ordered the Chargers.

This was more a statement of the obvious and Corin didn’t bother agreeing, frowning down the drop. Most of the sheer columns that made up the cliff had broken cleanly, leaving little to climb.

The drop was more than twice Lluciano’s height, and worse for the dwarves. Getting the two out would be problem number one. Bull could do it, but preferably not carrying someone.

“Varric, if we both lie over the edge and reach down Bull can pass Luci up first, then all three of us can be ready to help him. Vivienne, a little mood lighting and an eye out for trouble?”

“Of course,” Vivienne agreed, too poised to show her relief but amused enough they all heard it. Her staff flared, sending the shadows (and what was in them) scurrying away.

“I can make it,” Lluciano argued, already struggling as Bull shuffled him into position to lift, “I’m-”

“Short for an elf, and this is tall for qunari, so be a good boy and stand on my shoulders,” Bull ordered, hoisting him as he stood.

Cheeks flushing, Lluciano shut up and let himself be manhandled.

Setting the axe aside, Corin heaved out a sigh as Varric came to join them on the edge of the ledge, both lying on their front.

“I’m making a fucking bell for that boy,” they grumbled as they settled. Varric snickered from beside them and Vivienne laughed, bracing a foot in the small of Cadash’s back to keep them steady.

“Perhaps a leash?” She offered innocently, and Lluciano huffed a laugh of his own, scrambling his hands up the wall until he could reach their outstretched hands.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Vivienne,” he teased back, still a little wan for Corin’s liking even after the potion. Still didn’t weigh a damn thing though, and between them the dwarves hauled him up the last few feet.

Then shuffled apart, Cadash nodding to the space between them.

“C’mon Luci, same for Bull,” they commanded, and Lluciano enthusiastically threw himself flat, despite all physical injuries.

Yeah, Corin was sloshing him down with a bucket when they got back to camp and checking for infections. Anything a potion didn’t manage to close didn’t need extra help, and Lavellan never bloody mentioned when he was hurting.

Below the Iron Bull chuckled, cracking his neck and taking a few steps back from the wall, gauging the distance thoughtfully.

“Don’t strain your tender back on me, boss,” he chuckled, checking one last time for any magically appearing footholds.

“If I pull it, I’d rather you be up here to carry me home anyway,” Cadash shot back, slapping the wall beneath them.

“But by all means, feel free to show off,” Varric added quickly, giving Bull one of his charming smiles. The qunari snorted a laugh, backed up, and took a running leap.

He damn near cleared the whole thing, getting to waist height where Corin and Varric grabbed onto his belt to pull him the rest of the way, Lluciano almost wrapping him in a hug.

Even Vivienne stepped in, reaching over them all to take his hand and guide him delicately to step between the three.

“Impressed?” Bull asked hopefully, waggling his eyebrows as he moved away from the ledge for the others to stand up.

Vivienne hummed noncommittally and his face fell, the light fading back to its previous levels as she turned to walk back up the tunnel.

“Have you tried doing something impressive?” Cadash teased, rolling their shoulders and making a face. Lofty claims or not, they’d feel that for the rest of the day.

Probably worse by morning.

The Iron Bull rounded on them, good mood immediately restored by a new target.

“Well, I could certainly try tonight if you need your back fixed,” he offered with another suggestive waggle.

Corin gave him a cheery backhanded slap on the chest as they passed, gauntleted hand unerringly catching the nipple. It was one of the skills they’d had before any freaky Fade marks.

“Ask me again when we get back to camp. You good, Luci?” They asked the elf, bending to grab their axe and groaning as they straightened.

Lluciano nodded quickly, reaching back and patting his bag.

“I got a lot of spider parts. We should have all we’ll need,” he added hopefully, casting a distasteful glance at the cave around them.

“Not what they were asking, kid,” Varric sighed, patting him on the back as they trudged back to the surface, “but I’m sure we’ll see what you’re not telling us soon enough.”

**

The journey back to camp was less eventful than the way out, at least half because Lluciano stuck to the middle of the group and asked when he wanted to wander hither and yon for every elfroot he’d missed on the way down.

An improvement over his habit of randomly disappearing (sometimes literally) to wander up hills and behind rocks for herbs, but not one that was lightly to stick.

It did give the rest an idea of how he was doing, though they were all looking forward to the end of their long day. Even Vivienne was less pristine than usual, her tiredness showing only in a lack of complaints about the mess the rest of them were in.

The scouts watched with wide eyes as they reached the camp, the poor requisitions officer utterly speechless as Corin dropped their bag and Lluciano’s on the table.

“Should be all the ichor you need, anything you don’t send back to Adaar at Haven. Maybe we’ll go,” they added as an afterthought, brows furrowing.

“Heat some water, several buckets,” Vivienne commanded imperiously, gesturing to the soldiers who’d paused to watch their return.

“You’re not gonna get a full bath out here, first enchanter,” Varric teased, easing himself down to sit in front of the fire and unwinding Bianca.

Someone else could take the next problem to wander past camp; he was done.

“No, but you all need a wash and I thought you’d prefer it warm before I dumped it over your head,” Vivienne told him coolly, the soldiers already hurrying to comply.

Varric wasn’t going to argue with that, or with the Iron Bull thumping down beside him.

“I’d rather have a meal, an ale, and some company,” the qunari sighed, shooting a hopeful glance at Vivienne.

She pointedly pretended not to hear him.

“Wash first and I’ll cook something,” Corin offered, almost dropping their axe and grimacing as they fought spider gore out of the buckles of their armour, pointing at Lluciano before he could disappear, “and you’re staying where I can see you til I’m satisfied you’re all wrapped up.”

The elf pouted, shooting a longing look that was definitely at his tent, which was purely coincidentally directly behind the Iron Bull.

“I’m fine. I had a potion,” he argued half heartedly, but stopped moving anyway.

“You’ll have another,” Corin told him flatly, the requisitions officer already reaching into the supplies with a smile on her face, “and then we’re getting you cleaned and a poultice on anything still swelling.”

“I can take care of myself, Corin,” the elf whined, but it was a token protest and they all knew it. He gave the requisitions officer a small smile and drank the potion she offered without comment.

Corin snorted, tossing their greaves on top of their breastplate and dropping in front of the fire.

“Yeah, saw that today. You’ll be lucky if I let you out of my sight ever again, you’re a fucking trouble magnet,” they grumbled, beckoning him down beside them.

He obeyed, not solely because that put him between them and the Iron Bull, and gave his own gloves a disgusted look. The spider gore hadn’t exactly dried in the constant drizzle of the Storm Coast, but that didn’t help.

“What if we just burn these?” He asked only half joking and the Iron Bull snickered, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Oh, no need to waste ‘em, kid. Hows about I get you cleaned up and out of those leathers so Cadash can make us something that doesn’t taste a month past its prime?” He offered with his usual lecherous appreciation.

Lluciano flushed cherry red in all the spots not streaked with gore, but before he could voice his hearty approval Vivienne made good on her threat and dumped a bucket over them both.

“As delightful a show as I’m sure you’d make, nothing is going anywhere interesting while you’re both dripping it spider gore,” she told them both in no nonsense terms, setting the bucket down upside down and sitting primly on it.

“Now Bull, you start with his feet while I attempt to get some of this out of his hair. Unless you’d rather I shave it and save the time?”

Lluciano stifled a yelp, hands jumping to his cropped red hair, eyes darting back to Bull for another second.

“No! No thank you, Vivienne, I can wash it myself if it’s too much trouble!” He rushed to assure her, tripping over his words.

The Iron Bull liked redheads.

And being told what to do by beautiful, powerful women, even if they were mages. He accepted a warmed bucket with good grace, scrubbing at his face with one hand to clear some of the muck.

“No problem, ma’am. And Luci, you tell us if something hurts or you’ve any injuries that still need seeing to,” he told the elf firmly, decidedly enjoying the way it made him squirm.

“I’m fine, really,” Lavellan protested one more time, glancing at Cadash from the corner of his eye.

Cadash had their head in a bucket, both hands busy scrubbing gore from their short brown hair. They surfaced a moment later and scrubbed their face clean much the same way the Iron Bull had, sighing contentedly.

“Right. Are you going to behave for Bull and Vivienne, or am I washing you down myself?” They asked firmly, dipping their hands back in the water to wash.

Before he could answer, Vivienne gave him a gentle but firm tap on the head, another bucket of water held between her knees.

“He is going to behave for us, because he doesn’t want to see what will happen if I don’t get at least one edible meal in a day. These rations are all well and good for playing soldier, but magic requires real food and I come with you on these jaunts from the goodness of my heart,” she declared firmly, her expression daring him to argue.

Lluciano sagged, head bowing forwards until she put a single finger on his brow to guide him backwards into her bucket.

“Yes ma’am,” he grumbled, eyes shut rather than meeting her gaze as she got to work on his hair.

Across the fire, Varric had already acquired himself a mug of something that he raised in a toast.

“Hell, if Corin’s cooking I’ll go see if I can’t find something to shoot. I’m sure no one in camp will object to fresh meat,” he offered, glancing around at their audience.

Who probably hadn’t seen a Herald of Andraste stripped and bathed before, but that’d change soon.

Before he could wind Bianca though, the requisitions officer stepped forwards again, a slight smile on her face.

“Actually, scout Harding went out when she heard you were on your way back. I doubt she’ll be long.”

“Harding!” Varric cheered, throwing his hands into the air and settling back into his seat. “Our own little guiding angel. Anything else you’ll need, Corin?”

Fighting a smile, Cadash forced themself back to their feet and began to stretch, groaning as aching muscles creaked. Sitting down at all had been a bad idea, but better to remedy it now.

“I’ll do a stew. Easiest way to feed everyone, and the pot’s big enough. What do you have that’s fresh?” They asked the requisitions officer, turning to follow them to the stores.

“There’s vegetables in my bag!” Lluciano called, but wisely did not try to move from his new place pinned between Vivienne and the Iron Bull.

Bull had gotten his boots and socks off already, and was checking the small remaining cuts along his lower legs. Totally unnecessary in Lluciano’s opinion, but.

Well.

He was being manhandled. He wasn’t going to argue that part.

And that was just another perk of having the Heralds around, however temporarily. Not only could Cadash cook, Lavellan knew every herb and spice in Fereldan, and picked every one he saw.

Most of the edible plants too, though on his own he’d just eat them raw. He could supply a scout camp easily with enough to make rations not only edible but tasty, just from his own pack.

Not even notice the loss by the time he moved on, because he’d have harvested everything in the area before he left. And while he moved through.

It wasn’t that the heralds’ parties were better supplied by the Inquisition. It was that they supplied a reasonable chunk of it personally, all four being hopeless fucking packrats.

Which just might have been a factor in the rising personal loyalty from their soldiers and scouts especially.

Settling back to tend the fire, Varric watched Cadash move off with their requisitions officer, then Lluciano being interrogated by Vivienne about how much blood was washing out of his hair.

Some self preservation might have been nice though.

———————

No one told Luci until the next day that he’d been gathering the wrong thing from the spiders. Luckily he was wearing more than enough ichor not to need to go back out 😏

And hey, the silk was also useful eventually

EDIT: BEHOLD! The masterpost!

[liesmyth]

no yea i agree with you but as far as resurrection beasts are concerned i think that *they* think (as far as a planet can have linear thoughts when they are subsumed by rage and despair (alecto is differs there bc she was made into alecto)) that with “enough power anything is possible so jot that down”. and in #freealecto i meant freeing her of her grotesque human body as well as her chains to jod. and on that im fairly certain they have a shot? at killing jod? bc alecto’s power is comparable only imo to another of her kind, aka planets. the thing here is that jod and alecto have technical necromantic skills that might tip the (hypothetical) fight in their favor but even that might not matter if enough resurrection beats are present. and i also think rb hunt down lyctors bc they are an aberration like they are, the vibes are WrongTM so naturally they must be annihilated. and on an unrelated note i hope naberius comes back online at the funniest moment possible, when everything hinges on ianthe— when suddenly that’s not ianthe anymore that’s babs, and he’s not so keen on going back into the car’s trunk anymore thanks. i think he deserves his time on the spotlight mainly bc everyone canonly shits on him so much lmao

Ohh got it! The reason I'm not sure they could actually kill John it's because he (like RBs!) can't actually be killed, and the only tried-and-true method that works, that we know of, is yeeting them through the stoma. But I agree they're probably just moved by #vibes

ALSO DO WE THINK BABS' BODY IS STILL IN THE BOE COMPOUND ON NEW RHO. WHAT DID THEY DO TO HIM

[instantlightpeanut]

A vague idea for mbit.

Valdemar didn't know what the fuck to do. Well he actually knew, he's read about this over and over, but, standing in the reality of it, he truly wanted to yeet himself of the nearest tower. But that would require him to walk trough the Mage Templar battle zone towards that wierd red lyrium castle, or that other broken castle with a fade rift. Honestly it should be amazing he remembers this, but it's not really. The hinterlands have always been his favourite map, although the general consensus is that it's horrible.

2ish weeks ago he was just merilly walking home from work, deciding to take a shortcut trough the woods, at night, because let's admit it, he's at least partially mental. And well he walked, and walked what he definitely knew was too far, and tried using Google maps, which refused to work. And once he finally exited the forrest and saw that wierd circular hut and the rams, he knew immediately where he was. Which he probably shouldn't since it's been at least a year since he played the game, but hey, while he was playing it was a pretty damn strong hyper fixation.

Going back to the current situation he was currently as good as a refuge, except everyone looks at him funny because he's dressed in modern clothes. After considering his options, his final choice is ultimately stay here and wait for the inquisition to come then pretend to be a seer and hope he can get into good enough graces with Solas so that he may help him get home. Well that or go actually insane and fuck up Thedas, he's not too good at thinking that far ahead.

As it is he's managed to kill two rams by traps and after making a deal with the hunter, he has a decent amount of meat on him and got to keep the fur. In return for showing the hunter where the traps are and explaining how to build them. Finally, that offline survival guide he downloaded ages ago is useful. Oh, how does he still have his phone? Because loathe he to admit it, the solar battery, battery bank his mom got him during her ' the world is ending' phase, is useful as fuck. There he said it and he'll never say it again. So he's got a survival guide, and some games to entertain him. In his backpack, which is like his version of a woman's purse because he has far too much shit in it. He's got, two books, one change of underwear and socks. Panodil, plasters, hand disinfectant (thank you and fuck you covid) and a swizz knife (thank you grandpa). And some other knick knacks.

At least the inquisition is arriving soon, he's already been seeing the scouts out and about. Now should he join with the scouts or wait for the actual inquisitor. Damn, he hopes the inquisitor is an elf, he's only ever played as an elf, barely remembers the other races backstories.

(as far as I've thought out the intro, I want to be a more lighthearted shenanigans story, and Valdemar with his knowledge of events just throws the story on its head and Solas and Valdemar become friends with Valdemar dropping hints that he Knows. And the romance would be Valdemar and Dorian, although I have cute ideas for that I don't really have any planned out scenes.)

[tireddovahkiin]

🕯 and 🎧?

Thank you so much for the ask Adri🤍 Hope you and your f/o's are having a wonderful day/night!

🕯: what would you two consider a super special date?

Let's see...

Hanasis: Date in nature. Somewhere far, far away from humans, from pollution, from loudness of the cities, far from everyone. Just the two of them, together. Exploring some abandoned places, reclaimed by nature, forest, or a wide hill. Hours filled with talking, affection, compliments, cuddles, and warmth.

Sephizilia: As long as they're together, and away from the public, it's ideal for them. Late night drives? Movie dates? Stargazing? Even just reading books and gossiping and infodumping about stupidest of things? Every moment is special for them, because just one alone is enough for the other for their world to be complete. It's not about what or where they go and do, it's about the moments Tsizilia and Sephiroth share. Because their lives were filled with nothing but sorrow, hatred, and war, anything they do now, is like experiencing the missed opportunities and wonders of a 'normal' life. And nothing shall make them fall apart again. Together against the world, forever and ever.

(WAOOSIAIUSIAS I GOT EMOTIONAL WHAT THE FUCC)

🎧: what song/songs do you associate with your f/o? Is there a specific verse/verses that make you relate to them?

Oh, man😭 this one is very difficult, because I don't really listen to music with 'lyrics' anymore💀 But if I really had to choose, I would say:

"Hole-dwelling" by Kikuo - for Sephiroth. The lyrics, in my opinion, perfectly depict how Sephiroth probably felt as he floated half-dead-half-alive in the Lifestream, after getting yeeted by Cloud, for over five years. And I also like to think, since the one that sings always says 'we/our/us', it's like Sephiroth and Jenova, as a part of him and his blood/cells. I just know she 'communicated' and manipulated her "son" in some way, and turning him into a villain we know of, I don't believe it was just 'going crazy' moment. It was ALL at once. Jenovas manipulation, identity crisis, (Tsizilias encouragement👀), and other stuff.

"Inside a cramped, narrow hole The two of us show each other our dreams We can't be in that world; Neither can we be in this world"

"The sun, the moon, the sky, and God-all Bringing forth: this life of hole-dwelling We can't escape. We can't escape We can't escape, so we won't escape We won't escape, so close your eyes. 2, 1, 0 Let's fall, let's fall, let's fall and fall Into the vortex of this life of hole-dwelling Let's fall, let's fall, let's fall and fall together Like the best of friends, wherever it may take us You and me, forever and always"

SEE WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT???

As for Hanami... I've WAITED for this one.

"Earth Song" by Michael Jackson. (MAN. That song holds the record of making me cry the MOST times while listening to it). The lyrics are... Brutal. Because, just like Hanami, they do not hide the truth, that we ARE indeed ruining our planet. And beside all the promises we made along the way, it was always broken and forgotten. Earth is crying, Hanami can CLEARLY hear it, but humans are deaf. We're torturing it, and they have to endure as forests, hills, seas, everything, goes to nothingness, by our destructive hand.

"What about sunrise? What about rain? What about all the things That you said we were to gain?"

"Did you ever stop to notice This crying Earth, these weeping shores?"

"I used to dream I used to glance beyond the stars Now I don't know where we are Although I know we've drifted far"

"Hey, what about yesterday? (What about us?) What about the seas? (What about us?) The heavens are falling down (What about us?) I can't even breathe (What about us?)"

"What about nature's worth? (Ooh) It's our planet's womb (What about us?)"

"What about crying whales? (What about us?) We're ravaging the seas (What about us?) What about forest trails? (Ooh) Burnt despite our pleas (What about us?)"

OKAY YEAH BRB IMMA CRY NOW-

Link to the ask game!

[storytellers-and-co]

Introductions!

Hellos! This is a sideblog for all my Final Fantasy XIV content - for my mainblog also doubles as art blog, and I know not everyone is really into all of the fandoms I'm in. I'm mostly posting art and mini-stories about my OC's / WOL's and their current adventures, with occasional guest appearance from my friends characters. If you want to yeet asks at 'em, you can - but I'd rather get the introductory posts done first before I start answering!

All art in this blog is drawn by me unless otherwise stated in the tags!

NOTE! I am currently in Shadowbringers!

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Main tags/storylines in this blog are; Storytellers - Currently in Post-Heavensward, but will post mostly ARR content until RP catches up. Character tag: Jason Windsaga || Character Page, under construction! - Storytellers is a group of adventurers going through the story together, while also making one massive RP out of it. It doesn't fully follow the canon as we are way too creative for our own good, but I hope people enjoy the changes we're tossing in. I am mainly focusing on my WOL Jason Windsaga, but will also toss in others from the crew.

Tansui's Adventures - Currently in A Realm Reborn Character tag: Tansui Ginsuke || Character Page, under construction! - Tansui is a young, tiny Au Ra thaumaturge, and this is how their story is going so far. Will feature as many cameos as I can reasonably have, as well as some funny memes. Updates at least once a week! Crisis Stick - Currently in A Realm Reborn Character tag: Jydirot Deresnels || Character Page - Crisis Stick consist of three characters, Jydirot Deresnels, Va'ea Locla and Foulques of the Mist (no last name, apparently). It is mostly RP between me and a friend, but I also stream Jydirot's playthrough on Tuesdays.

Isekaid Bunny- Currently in ??? Character tag: Ruo Hikko || Character Page, under construction! - This is just series of quick oneshot mini-things of a viera named Ruo, who got hit by the Truck-kun and sent to Eorzea. Unfortunately, he is not the main character, but rather a sidecharacter who knows too much and yet not enough about the world, as his knowledge comes from the osmosis and memes from friends. Soft-canon to Storytellers!