#And makes a deal if his parents put effort into finding him he will return tim himself

[moonlight-stalker]

# 5 dcxdp

Tim has been wandering around the city taking pictures of batman and Robin for several months now and he thinks some one is following him he Dose not know what to do

Danny has been following this boy for a couple of weeks and is terrified of him dieing he has done everything he could to protect the boy and be there with him he would of taken the boy wen he already back to his place but could not get in the boys mansion and could not take him in the middle of the city were the bat and his bird was he could not grab him from the bus with out it being caught on camera so in the he decides the best path was a kidnapping so he hired some dumb people to go in to the home to take tim and bring him unharmed to him and they will get paid and he can give this child a parent he needs

[cupid-styles]

late night talking

in which harry’s quiet, shy, and always sends y/n tips during her cam streams. or: nerdrry x cam girl y/n

word count: 5.9k (wanted to get this out before christmas so it’s a bit on the shorter side than my other longer fics!!)

content warnings: sexual content (y/n is a cam girl soooooo voyeurism/exhibitionism is implied), smut (mutual masturbation, dirty talk/sexting, daddy kink, slight dom/sub dynamics)

please lmk if you’d want a part two for these cuties !

part two here

. . .

On a day-to-day, this is how Y/N typically spends her time:

She wakes up and throws herself in the shower with her eyes half shut. She eats some type of sustenance for breakfast, whether it be a granola bar or a warranted effort at some overnight chia seed concoction, and then heads to her main job, where her boss, Sam, has half her experience and somehow gets paid double her salary.

She does whatever's asked of her all day because she went to school for graphic design and she quite likes it, but only when Sam isn't up her ass, asking her to do tasks he's too lazy to do. At 5 pm on the dot, Sam is usually trying to get her to stay late but she's already on her way out the door. When she gets home, she forces down another quick meal — sometimes it's one of those frozen, premade things, other times she has the energy to make a veggie pasta or stir fry — pulls on a lingerie set, and sits on her cam site, where she strips and touches herself for money from strangers. 

Her cam streams are her favorite part of her day.

She guesses she's some type of exhibitionist if she enjoys getting off in front of people she doesn't know, but it's a win-win considering they're voyeurs, too. Plus, when you put monetary tips on top of it — well, Y/N can't really complain. 

She hides her face because her worst nightmare is her family finding out (that just sounds like a nightmare of a conversation to have with her parents), but she does have a few regular customers that come to most, if not all of her streams, are consistent tippers, and are always sweet to her. They ask about how she's doing and are polite in their requests, typically following them up with some sort of financial compensation so she has a reason to go through with it. It's not a bad deal at all — she enjoys her little community and the whole double life thing isn't the worst thing in the world. 

Y/N's been doing this for about a year, so she's gotten pretty familiar with the types of customers that come through her stream, but there's one in particular — fleetwoodlondon — that somehow still has her stumped. 

The thing is, this fleetwoodlondon person is far too nice. That's what confuses her the most. He (and she assumes it's a guy, because she doubts any woman would do this type of thing, but maybe she's just stereotyping) sends her tips for nothing in exchange, always tacking a bit more on when she's mentioned that she's had a rough day or she hasn't had a chance to eat dinner yet. She's messaged him privately, too, thanking him for his generosity and asking if he wants anything special in return, but he always says the same thing: No, that's alright. Thank you for the offer. Have a good night. x

There's a part of her that feels like it's bazaar, but there's a larger portion that's fascinated by him. She wants to know why he does what he does, why he feels that she's special enough to even do this in the first place. 

It's a shame he's rarely willing to exchange more than 10 words with her. 

. . .

Harry's days usually go like this:

Wake up, do some yoga or meditation, and log onto work. He works from home as a computer engineer for some large company that, if he's being honest, he doesn't really know a ton about, but they pay him extremely well and let him stay home all day, so it evens out. He's a diligent, hard worker on a small team of other shy, quiet people, so meetings are few and far between. On the occasion where he does have to present something a larger group, he'll stumble and stutter his way through a PowerPoint slideshow and take a puff of his asthma inhaler the second he's done. 

When work is over, he hangs out with his cat, Beatrice, cooks them a yummy, healthy dinner, and watches TV with her. At the top of the 7 pm hour, he shuffles Beatrice off to his bedroom because he doesn't want her to see how her dad spends his free time: Watching a girl he doesn't know on a dodgy cam site, getting his rocks off, and sending her a large tip at the end of the night. 

The first time he stumbled across her stream, he felt weird about it. It was semi-dystopian to watch someone in this way, knowing she was doing it live somewhere in the world. But she seemed to enjoy it and she had a decent crowd of subscribers and tippers in the chat, so it made him feel better when he eventually gave into his own temptation, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of his sweats and fisting his cock the way she'd been encouraging her viewers to do. And the thing is, he never planned to attend another show — he assumed he'd just go on his merry way and that was the end of it.

But he couldn't stop thinking about her.

The softness of her skin, the lacy set that covered her most intimate parts, the giggles and teasing comments that fell from her plushy lips. He couldn't see any other parts of her face, but she had a pretty voice, and he just knew she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever see. 

And, in complete honesty, he really loved when she shared small details about her life. It wasn't in a creepy way — he saw the way commenters replied in her chat and it made his stomach turn — but it was just... nice to get a peek into her life outside of this site, where Harry had to click out of porn pop-ups and erectile dysfunction ads every 5 minutes. 

Hearing that she saw a cute dog on her way home from work or she got a free cookie with her lunch today was what reminded him that she was just another human, doing her best, the same way he was. And maybe it was true that he could never get her to pay attention to him in real life, but at least on this platform, he stood a chance. 

Harry had more money than he knew what to do with. He lived a comfortable life, he didn't have a partner or kids, and his savings account was plentiful. If he sent moan-a-lisa (the first time he read her username, he did smirk at the playful pun) a decent tip at the end of the night, he wouldn't feel bad about it. His money could be going to worse places.

It was only when she started to message him privately that he started to panic. 

About once a week, she would thank him profusely and ask if he wanted something in return — a custom video, pictures, even a phone call. But when he thought about it, he was just too anxious and scared — he felt like maybe he portrayed a slightly cool persona online, but if that wall got broken down, she'd see that he was lame. A computer nerd that stayed home all day and spent his money on a girl he'd never know in real life.

At least at a distance, she might at least think he's nice.

. . .

"Alright cuties, thank you so much for joining me tonight!"

Y/N watches as the chat floods with a variety of responses to her ending the stream: Some were kind (thank you for spending ur time w us!!!! have a good night!), others were sad and slightly parasocial (nooooo :( I'll miss u so much baby don't go), while the slight minority were just plain mean (stupid bitch u didn't even do anal 2nite). 

"I'll be back tomorrow at the same time, 7 pm eastern standard," she says with a toothy grin. She waves them a goodbye, clicks the "end live" button, and lets out a sigh of relief when her camera finally shuts off. Her show ended up being nearly four hours long tonight and she could feel a warm bubble bath calling her name. 

As she begins her post-streaming routine of grabbing a snack, starting her bath, and peeling the lingerie set off her body, she hears her phone go off. Almost like clockwork. 

She grabs it and glances down at the notification. Unsurprised, her eyes scan over the message: fleetwoodlondon sent you $300!

Rolling her lips into her mouth, she clicks on it and opens the app. Immediately, she thumbs over to their private conversation, where she types out a message. 

moan-a-lisa: please tell me you've reconsidered and are willing to let me doing something in return for all these tips.

As she's tossing her peach-toned lace set in the hamper, her phone dings again. She already knows his response before she even reads it. 

fleetwoodlondon: Nope. Have a good night. x

She smiles playfully at his reply and shakes her head, eyes still glued to her screen as she walks to her bathroom. She shuts the door, lights her favorite candle, and climbs into the porcelain tub, breathing out a deep sigh as the warm water and bubbles begin to soak her sore joints and muscles. 

moan-a-lisa: please???? im in the bath rn and could give u a fun little peek:)

With the exception of customers that pay for phone sex or custom videos, Y/N never produces off-the-cuff content. But the mysterious air of this fleetwoodlondon user is enough to make her break some of her own rules. 

She's surprised when she receives a near-immediate reply — she'd mentally prepared herself to wait 10 or so minutes before he typed back, like he usually does.

fleetwoodlondon: Cute. 

fleetwoodlondon: I just don't want you to feel pressured to send me anything. I don't tip you for that reason. 

With a confused expression, she sits up to shut the water off. She nibbles on her bottom lip as she lowers back into the water, contemplating the weight of his words. In the end, she decides to  go with her gut.

moan-a-lisa: why do you tip me then?

She's not entirely shocked when she doesn't receive an instant response to her question. She sighs, dipping her head back into the warm water. It's annoying, the way this person she doesn't even know is sticking around in her brain. She's not big on dating or seeing people romantically, so it's pretty unusual for her to be so focused on someone. 

She tosses her phone onto the plushy bath mat on the floor and decides to enjoy the comfort of her bath instead of worrying over it. She takes care to wash her body and face, and when she gets out she puts her favorite skincare products on before brushing her hair out. When she finally looks at her phone an hour later, she sees a notification from the user himself. 

fleetwoodlondon: I just think you deserve it. 

fleetwoodlondon: But again, I never want you to feel pressured into sending me something just because of the money..

She shakes her head as she walks back to her bedroom. Pulling a pair of comfortable sweats on, she's still confused by the angle he's playing at. And while most guys would maybe weird her out, she wonders if she's being naive by feeling some sort of kinship with this person. 

As she's contemplating her response in the darkness of her bedroom, her phone buzzes again in her hand. 

fleetwoodlondon: I just like hearing about you. Knowing that there's just another regular human behind the screen, I guess. I promise I'm not trying to be weird because I know you probably get a ton of odd messages from people all day.. but I suppose maybe I'm just sort of lonely? And I enjoy the consistency of knowing I can watch your stream every night.

fleetwoodlondon: I'm so sorry if that crosses a line. Reading that back, it's probably creepy. 

She has to bite her lip to hold back the smile that curls onto her mouth from his words. It's not creepy, not coming from him, anyway. He seems... innocent, somehow, despite being a frequent viewer of her streams. And, in all honesty, she gets it — she's lonely, too. She doesn't have many people in her life besides her family and the people she works with. She understands why her viewers come to her daily streams because she shows up for the exact same reason.

moan-a-lisa: it's not weird. i get it

moan-a-lisa: but if you're not interested in receiving content from me in exchange for ur tips, can we do something else then?

fleetwoodlondon: What?

moan-a-lisa: tell me about your days too

fleetwoodlondon: Really?

moan-a-lisa: yeah. i think im lonely in the same way u are. it could be nice.

fleetwoodlondon: Okay. I can do that.

moan-a-lisa: good:)

. . .

Harry doesn't entirely realize what he's signed up for when she starts messaging him the next day. 

In theory, he assumed that maybe she was just saying that stuff to be nice. He knows she has a habit of trying to relate to her viewers and make them feel special. It was kind of her, but he chalks it up to that — that is, until he receives a private message from her at 11 a.m. the following morning. He's never spoken to her during the day, only during or after her streams in the evening. His eyes nearly bulge out of his skull when he reads her username on his phone — he's working on a big project with a few coworkers and they're on a meeting together (cameras off, of course), and he immediately chokes on his spit, excusing himself and turning his mic off. 

moan-a-lisa: how's ur day going so far?

He swallows nervously. What is he supposed to say? Isn't there some cardinal rule about not revealing private information to strangers on the internet? (Though he thinks maybe that went down the drain awhile ago, considering how they ended up in contact.) He nibbles on his bottom lip as he quickly types out a response, trying his best not to overthink it. She's just being nice, he reminds himself, she probably thinks you're some desperate loser who needs companionship. 

fleetwoodlondon: It's been alright, just working. Nothing too exciting. How about you?

He attempts to redirect his focus back to the coworker that's currently asking him a question about the project when his phone instantly lights back up. 

moan-a-lisa: boring:( im working too except i kind of hate my boss. he's a douche

moan-a-lisa: what do u do for work? 

"Harry?" 

He stutters, clicking the button to turn his mic back on, "Yeah, that sounds good, Mike," he rushes out nervously, "I trust you, you know what you're doing."

"Alright, we'll move forward with that, then."

"Great. I actually need to take a break for a bit, need to feed my cat," Harry says quickly. "Let's reconnect on this tomorrow."

His coworkers agree and the meeting ends, allowing him to focus all his brainpower on replying to her. Is it messed up that he ended a working session for this? Yes, potentially, and he feels guilty for it, too. 

fleetwoodlondon: I'm a computer engineer. And I'm sorry to hear that you hate your boss... do you have another job outside of streaming?

moan-a-lisa: yea I do graphic design during the day

moan-a-lisa: computer engineering??? so in other words ur smart as fuck and that's how u afford to pay me ridiculous tips so often?

He snorts to himself. He's always felt his job title sounds more impressive than it actually is. In reality, tech stuff is all he's ever been good at, so it was a natural move to major in computer science in school. He never thought he was particularly intelligent, even if his professors and peers insisted that he was. To this day, he feels like he's just a computer nerd that got lucky.

fleetwoodlondon: I mean, I wouldn't say I'm 'smart as fuck' but I do have more money than I know what to do with. So yeah, I guess that would explain the tips. 

moan-a-lisa: i feel like ur being wildly humble rn 

fleetwoodlondon: Definitely not. I just happened to find the niche I'm good at.

fleetwoodlondon: Do you like graphic design?

moan-a-lisa: yeah but i think i would like it way more if i could do freelance work or go to another company. like i said my boss sucks, he's kind of a misogynist and has way less experience than me.. not saying i should have his job BUT 

fleetwoodlondon: ...But you should have his job.

Harry's stomach tightens at the description of her boss. Thankfully, he's never been on the receiving end of such treatment, but he has friends that have — one of college peers was even told by a higher-up that she'd never get a managerial role at the company because of her sex. It makes him sick to think about, but especially when he imagines her being in that position. He doesn't know why he feels so protective over her (he knows she doesn't need that from a stranger online), but he does, and it's weird.

She doesn't reply after that and Harry forces himself to be okay with it. Now that he knows she has a day job, he reminds himself that she's busy and doesn't spend all of her time replying to private messages on her cam site. It's a bit of a struggle to focus on his job, but it's a welcomed distraction so he doesn't have to think about what she's doing or why she hasn't responded. 

He ends up working late to make up for the meeting he cut short and the time he took to reply to her messages. But when he peers over the screen of his laptop and sees the digital clock in his living room tick towards 7 pm, it's almost as if it's some sort of Pavlovian response, the way he grows antsy and begins to thicken up in his pants. He takes his time logging off from work and heats up a leftover stir fry from the night prior, swallowing hot mouthfuls so he's ready in time for her show. 

Just as he's done eating and he's bringing up a private tab on his phone, he gets a notification from their prior conversation. His stomach pings with anxiety, his eyebrows raising in surprise when he reads the words: will you be watching tn?

He thinks it's a stupid question — of course he'll be watching, but maybe she doesn't know she's part of his evening routine. He swallows, fingers trembling as he presses on the notification and quickly types back. Maybe he's over exhausted from staring at his computer screen all day, but the flirtatious response that comes from his end is even a surprise to him. Wouldn't miss it for the world, he sends back. 

She responds with a few angel emojis, his heart doing a flip as he reads the words she sent: good. i like knowing ur in the audience:) message me after and let me know what u thought. 

When her stream starts, he wants to bite his fist. She's wearing a beautiful navy blue set that serves as a gorgeous contrast to her smooth skin. The bralette and underwear are intricate with sweet lace detailings, providing peeks of her nipples and the small patch of pubic hair that decorates her mound. 

"Hi everyone," she greets with a grin. Despite the usual angle that only reveals a bit of her mouth and chin, he somehow feels like he knows more of her now. Selfishly, he realizes that he hopes she doesn't talk to other viewers the way they've chatted. "How are we doing tonight?"

There's a lull in conversation and he knows it's because she's reading through the immediate uptick of responses in the chat. He recognizes a few of the usernames who are also regular viewers, while others likely found her on the homepage. 

"I'm good, thanks for asking!" she replies, rolling her plush lips into her mouth, "I didn't have too bad of a day, actually. Had some nice entertainment to get me through work."

Harry's heart stalls slightly. She couldn't be talking about him, could she? It's probably wishful thinking, assuming that she would think that highly of their short conversation. 

"You guys are so nosy," she giggles, the sound of it making him smile, "Since when do you care so much about my personal life? Thought you just wanted to watch me cum."

As if that serves as some sort of reminder for her viewers, tips begin to flow in, along with demands in the chat. He watches her tug her bottom lip between her teeth as his eyes scan the messages too, stomach churning at what people ask of her. He wonders if it bothers her, but then again, he assumes she must have thick skin to do this. She doesn't need someone like Harry to defend her against horny strangers online.

"You're all silly," she murmurs as she rises onto her knees. Her thumbs find the thin fabric that hits at her hips, pulling the straps teasingly before letting them snap back against her skin. "Hold on, I have to do something."

For a moment, she cuts away from the screen, only leaving her legs in the view. Harry swallows as he lets himself examine her soft skin, fingers twitching at his sides as he imagines touching her — maybe even pressing kisses and dark marks into the surface of her thighs, too. 

His eyes flicker up to a notification at the top of his screen and it reminds him to turn his phone on do not disturb. However, instead of finding an email from work or a text from a friend, it's her. She's messaging him while she streams, knowing he's watching. His stomach tightens almost instantly. 

moan-a-lisa: are u watching?

fleetwoodlondon: Of course I am.

He watches as her lips curl into a small smile now that her body is back in frame. Her phone is in one hand while her other brushes up over her torso and chest and back down to her legs. 

moan-a-lisa: what do you want me to do tonight?

He swallows harshly as she lowers her phone. She starts to reply to other messages in the chat, knowing it's important to engage with her viewers to keep them entertained. 

"You guys know what my hard limits are, stop asking me to do that stuff," she says playfully, wiggling her hips slightly, "I promise, no amount of money will make me want to fist myself."

He snorts at that, momentarily forgetting that she's waiting on a response from him. Honestly, he doesn't know what's appropriate to ask of her — the last thing he wants is to make her uncomfortable.

fleetwoodlondon: Do whatever you want. You should get to call the shots for once.

On screen, she hums, though it seems like it's mainly to herself. As she plucks at the straps of her bralette, slowly lowering them down her arms to reveal the valley of her breasts, her tongue peeks out to lick over her lips.

"I really just want someone to dominate me tonight," she says, her tone dropping seductively, "I wanna be told what to do and how to do it. My brain's so fuzzy from being so horny all day, I can barely make a decision for myself."

Harry swallows harshly at her words. The chat instantly goes wild as tips quickly flow in, volunteering to be the ones to do it. She smirks, winding her arm around to unclip her bra, letting it fall to the floor. 

"Sometimes I just think about you dominating me, you know that?" she murmurs, pursing her lips as her hands find her tits, gently squeezing at her nipples. "Today at work, it was all I could think about... made me so wet, I had a mess in my panties by the end of the day."

His eyes are bulging out of his head now — she couldn't possibly be talking directly to him, could she? It seemed silly and improbable, but also... they had spoken today while they both worked. 

"Maybe someone from London, y'know? I've always had a soft spot for guys with British accents."

He almost comes in his pants on the spot. 

At a surface level, Harry is kind and quiet. He's always been quite introverted, he prefers to be alone, and he thinks he could go days without seeing a single person, except for Beatrice. But somehow — and there's probably a psychological explanation for this, one that he's uninterested in finding out — he makes up for it in the bedroom. He doesn't know why, but when he's with someone intimately, he just becomes... dominant. He's aware that his tastes aren't vanilla, like many of his past sexual partners had assumed, as spanking, bondage, toys, edging, and overstimulation are all some of his favorite pastimes. And with the way she's teasing him right now, it's only pushing him further to the dominant threshold he typically keeps tucked away. 

Pulling their conversation back up, he doesn't think much or read his message over before sending it.

fleetwoodlondon: If you wanted me to tell you how to touch your pretty little pussy, all you had to do is ask.

He sees the smirk that curls at her lips through the screen and he swallows, wishing he could taste them. 

"Yeah? You wanna tell me what to do?" she asks breathily, wiggling a bit in her seat. His cock is already throbbing in his pants as he taps at the screen, eager to respond. 

fleetwoodlondon: Spread your legs. Tease yourself. 

It's not even 30 seconds before she's shifted onto her butt, knees to the sky as she opens her legs. Her underwear is still on, covering her modesty, but she uses gentle fingertips to trace over her mound and down to the crease of her thighs. He watches her shiver beneath her touch. 

fleetwoodlondon: Move those pretty panties to the side. Let me see how wet you are for me.

"Fuck, 'm so wet for you," she moans, echoing the words from his message. She does as he requests, plucking the damp fabric from her center to reveal her glistening lips. Harry wants to verbally moan at how gorgeous she looks. "Can I touch myself, daddy? Please? Want it so bad— wanna be your good girl."

fleetwoodlondon: You are being good.

fleetwoodlondon: You can touch yourself, but only with your fingers. 

She dives in almost instantly, fingertips ghosting over her clit as her head falls to the side, slightly overwhelmed by the pleasure after waiting all day. She trails them down to her hole, where she's leaking steadily, and smears her arousal up to her clit, giving it a soft smack. She whimpers from the quick sting. 

"Do you see how wet I get for you?" 

fleetwoodlondon: Open yourself up. Pretend it's my fingers instead of yours. 

She moans as she pushes a single finger inside, arching deeply from the sensation. With her bottom lip wedged between her teeth, she gasps as she nestles a second in.

"Not big enough," she whines, grinding her hips down against her fingers, "Can't— they're too small, daddy, need yours instead."

fleetwoodlondon: I'm sure you do, but I'm not there. So be good and keep fucking yourself open with your pathetic little fingers. I want to watch you cum and lick it all up.

Harry can barely take it, watching her take her fingers knuckle-deep as she falls apart on screen from things he commanded her to do. He can see her thighs beginning to tense, her jaw slack as whimpers fall from her lips, and he wants nothing more than to finish with her. Quickly, he frees his cock from his sweats. So much pre-cum is leaking from the tip that he's almost embarrassed by it — he doesn't need any extra lubrication, so he wraps his fist around the head, bringing the substance down to the base of his length. He groans lowly and sets his phone up on the coffee table, leaning it against a box of tissues so he can use his other hand to pull at his sorely full balls.

"Fuck, daddy, you're so filthy," she moans, fitting a third finger in. She gasps from the stretch and it makes his eyes roll back as he pumps himself, trying to match the beat of her own thrusts. "Are you— y'gonna cum with me? Please, I want it, wanna lick up every last bit of it—"

"Jesus fuck," he mutters to himself, pausing momentarily to squeeze his base. She normally makes him finish fast, but it's never been this quick before. He has to give himself a break before he bursts all over himself. 

"I'm gonna cum," she bleats, almost as if it's a promise, "Fuck, it's coming, I'm gonna cum for you, daddy— shit, it's all for you—"

He watches with wide eyes as her pussy pulses around the trio of fingers deep inside of her, a slew of curses falling from her lips as she falls apart. It's so beautiful, even if he's not privy to seeing her facial expressions. Her whines and whimpers are music to his ears, and finally getting to watch her reach her peak is all the permission he needs to reach his. 

When he does a few moments later, all he can imagine is her hand wrapped around his cock, fisting it quickly while she mouths at the tip to catch the warm spurts of cum. He feels himself, heavy and twitching and tensing beneath his grasp, involuntarily whispering out similar sentiments to hers: "it's all yours, fuck, it's yours, it's yours."

His eyes flicker open to see her sucking on her fingers, a smirk on her lips as she gags around them. Her mouth is drooly and messy with spit and Harry wants to fall over.

"Thank you, daddy," she breathes out, "And thank you for watching, cuties. I appreciate all the sweet tips. I'll be back tomorrow at the same time, 7 pm, eastern standard time."

In the blink of an eye, the screen is blank, she's gone, and Harry has cold cum resting on his stomach. 

. . .

If Y/N's being honest, she's not sure what got into her last night.

She can't stop thinking about him — fleetwoodlondon — and how he became the dominant of her dreams. They didn't exchange any messages after she ended the stream, and she wonders if that made things worse. But he's all she can think about at work today as she pretends to work on a project for a minor client that Sam passed off to her this morning.

With a nervous swallow, she pulls her phone from her pocket. She keeps hoping that he'll message her first, but she's not entirely surprised when the only notifications she has are from her work calendar. Sighing, she brings up their private conversation, biting her lip at the last dirty text he'd sent her. 

moan-a-lisa: hi

moan-a-lisa: how's ur day going?

In an attempt to distract herself while she awaits his response, she redirects her focus to the project she’s working on. She can’t help glancing over at her phone every five seconds, wondering if maybe she took things too far last night and he doesn’t want to talk to her anymore. By the time an hour goes by and her stomach is growling with hunger, her spirits are crushed as she leaves her desk to head downstairs to the cafe for lunch. 

She’s pouting over a panini and a blondie when her phone buzzes on the table. She thinks her mind is playing tricks on her when she sees his username, only to realize she actually had an unread message from him. 

fleetwoodlondon: Boring, I’ve just been working all day. Was just thinking about you actually. 

With raised eyebrows, Y/N’s curiosity is peaked. She assumes he’s referring to her the stream — to be fair, it had been incredibly hot for her, too, so she fully understands if that’s all he associates her with. (Even if she has to force herself to suppress any disappointment seeping from within.)

moan-a-lisa: yeah? what were u thinking about? 

fleetwoodlondon: I picked up a book about graphic design and iconic advertising. It’s really interesting and I was thinking you might enjoy it. 

fleetwoodlondon: Sorry. That’s probably the dorkiest message you’ve ever received on here. 

Y/N doesn’t think she’s grinned this wide in weeks. 

. . .

Y/N and Harry continue to text every day after that. 

It’s weird. She’s never had this close of a relationship with a viewer before, and Harry has never found himself caring about someone he barely knows like this before. They don’t even know each other’s names and yet, they’ve been talking for a month, revealing tidbits of their lives that their closest loved ones don’t even know. In a sense, the consistent presence of the other on the phone is the most comforting thing either one has ever experienced. 

Harry knows about her siblings, the time she broke her arm on a swing when she was five, and when she got so drunk in college she threw up in her friend’s lap. Y/N knows that he moved from London for graduate school, he has a cat named Beatrice that he adores (and feeds right before tuning into her stream every evening), and watches Titanic when he’s had a bad day. 

So, he doesn’t really get why he’s so nervous to talk to her on the phone tonight. 

It had started as a joke — they’d been messaging earlier today, making fun of the fact that they felt like teenagers the way they were glued to their phones to talk to each other. Y/N had brought up wanting to hear his voice so she could finally hear his accent. Harry noted that he didn’t even know her name. And so, they made plans to talk on the phone at 5:30 this evening. 

He’s so anxious he feels like he might puke. As he watches the time slowly tick by, he grips his phone in his hand, waiting for it to start buzzing with an incoming call. He wonders if she feels nervous, too, or if this is no big deal for her. He feels silly for wondering if his infatuation has developed into a full blown crush, but he doesn’t think he can help it. He really, truly thinks he’s fallen for her just based off of chatting with her every day. 

Beatrice feels the tension radiating off of Harry’s body so she wiggles herself into his lap, nuzzling her head against his thigh. He welcomes her comfort, giving her gentle pets at the clock finally ticks to 5:30. His phone begins to vibrate promptly. 

He takes a long, deep breath. 

And then he clicks ‘answer.’

And he hears the most beautiful voice he’s ever heard before. 

part two

[charliemwrites]

Making this a separate post because the idea has evolved a bit:

(Was talking about this in the discord if it looks familiar)

I’m thinking less of a 1 to 1 Greek god au. I’m thinking it’s more of a theme to their dynamic and in parts of their story.

Johnny is a reincarnation of some ancient, nameless (or many-named) god, associated with dark forces. He’s not evil incarnate. But he is something of a representation of “darker” human nature. Anger, bloodlust, impatience, selfishness.

Persephone!reader, by comparison, is sort of a personification of gentler human nature. Patience, mercy, altruism, gentleness. She is less “awakened” so to speak because her mother has been a major limiting factor in her life. Like, helicopter parent to the extreme.

Persephone!reader goes to her aunt Laswell as a sort of compromise. See the world, the real world, in a controlled sort of way with her aunt watching carefully over her shoulder.

Problem is, no one is expecting the dreams to start as soon as she gets to base. Dreams of a man that scares her as much as tempts her, and encouraging the worst and most selfish of her impulses. She doesn’t tell anyone - why would she? They’re just dreams.

Captain MacTavish scares intimidates her, even though she insists that he doesn’t, looking him in the eye with her chin tilted up defiantly. When he’s on base he finds all sorts of ways to cross her path, sometimes teasing her into an indignant fluster, other times telling her off for “distracting recruits”. Always, always has an eye on her, even if it’s not his own.

Once things come to a head (I haven’t figured out how yet) Persephone!reader insists it isn’t fair. And just because they’ve been something in the past doesn’t mean they have to now.

Johnny, of course, is utterly amused. She’s barely got any idea what’s going on, but sure, she’s going to deny forces beyond life and death.

They strike a deal. When he’s away (for months at a time… a season’s length, even) she can run and hide and do whatever she wants to “escape” him. If he cant find her within a week of coming back, then he’ll leave her be and she’s “free”.

(She scoffs that he’s going to cheat, using her aunt and all of her connections but he just scoffs. As if Laswell would help him over her own niece. And as if he needs the help.)

He always finds her within a day of coming back from a mission. No matter where she is or what her name is. No matter how well she covers her tracks (even with Laswell’s help). He comes to her with gifts.

At first it would be sweet if not for the smirk on his face and the realization that she’s “lost” again. He brings flowers of all kinds, and green plants in little pots. Then it’s a new sweater, a nice coat, a piece of jewelry.

And then… and then they get worse. A bullet is the first sign. It’s just a whole bullet, her name engraved in its side. Then it’s a casing, the bullet clearly having been shot. He tells her it went right between someone’s eyes. The “gifts” become patches from enemy jackets, pretty stones splattered with dried blood, a human tooth.

It’s awful. She hates it. She can’t ever make herself say it (or believe it). And when he’s gone, she physically can’t make herself throw them away. Shes tried and tried, and the last time she put a real effort into it, she ended up on the floor having a panic attack, sobbing and calling Johnny.

(He purrs at her through the phone, gunfire background noise while he soothes her back inside. His voice keeps her company while she makes a tea, readies a bath. Tuts at her to call him again when she’s tucking into bed. She refuses to acknowledge that she does.)

Similarly, she finds herself getting or making things for him. For his inevitable return. Cigars and his favorite whiskey. Making patches for his uniform. A leather bracelet with her initials on a silver charm. A ring with an inlay the color of her eyes. Doesn’t even realize what she’s doing until she’s home or the thing is done. She’ll hide them away for months with no plans of giving them to Johnny. He inevitable finds them within his first week home anyway.

(There’s the one time she bakes for him, humming as she measures and mixes ingredients. Lets him steal tastes from the bowl and lick flour off her cheek. Only realizes what she’s done in a domestic haze when he’s eaten the sweet treat and thanked her for it.)

And when he’s home…

The deal is that when he’s home, he gets to treat her like his. Climbs into her bed, grumbling about pillows being a poor substitute for him. Steps into her shower midway through, ducking his head so she can shampoo and condition his hair with her gentle hands. Dresses her in his clothes, in his dog tags. Always has a hand on her, even in her (their) home.

And he delights in yanking her into his lap - especially in public. When his team comes to visit (and they always do) he lounges with her on his thigh. He’s also kind of a dick. Like he’s courteous to servers (mainly female ones because chances are they won’t flirt with his girl) but pretty much any stranger talking to him or his Persephone is met with smarmy asshole behavior.

It’s to the point that she just fusses at him to let her talk to people. And he’s happy to do so, amused by the way she charms people. He only intervenes when someone is rude or a little too friendly with her. She’s had to break up bar fights before because god knows his men won’t try to stop their captain.

She is literally the only being in all of history that can tell him no and stop and he’ll listen regardless of the situation. She has to actively remind herself that it’s not healthy and she should not be a little flattered about it. And she’s not. (She is.)

[flowershines]

It’s so wrong

Step bro! Mike Schmidt x fem! reader

warnings: smut, step siblings, handjob, divorce, cheating, no nut november

Seeing the only person who you trusted with your entire life break down; crying hastarily in front of you, shattered your heart. The only thing you ever wanted for your mom was to see her happy, needless to say a week had gone by since he left.

Crying in the bedroom got louder and louder as the nights went on, they would slowly fade away till nothing but crickets were heard from outside the windows.

Walking up to her bedroom and peeking your head through the door she passed out as the tears stained her face, the bags under her eyes made her look like she hadn’t slept in days.

Mom had never cried this much but ever since your dad had left not that long ago she felt like there was no hope left for her and refused to do anything as she felt worthless.

Getting one of the blankets from the end of her bed and placing it on her, kissing her forehead then slowly walking out shutting the door behind you. Wanting to cry as well, your mom breaking down crying was just terrible to hear every night for the past week not to mention your dad didn’t just leave her but left you as well.

Betrayal and Sadness was the only thing that was running through your body along with emptiness as your parents were your best friends. Spending time with them was your favorite passing time thing to do, whether it was going shopping or watching movies.

The week before they broke up, that's when your dad was acting weirder than usual by spending more time on his phone texting someone and when you asked who he was texting he would just put his phone down and say that it was nothing that you should be worrying about.

He would sneak out for suspiciously long hours of the day returning to the house all messed up hair a mess his clothes unbuttoned or just placed on weird, everything he was doing was showing red flags in your head.

Thinking in your head knowing what he was doing but not wanting to believe it as you thought that he would never betray your family like that, come to find out he was doing exactly what you thought he was doing.

He had been cheating on your mom for almost 3 months.

A month later…

Driving to school those memories had filled your head as all your thoughts were about all the messed up things that had happened this past year, all that you had been through just because your dad thought that it was okay to betray your family for some side chick.

You hated him.

Pulling into your school's parking lot and waiting in your car for a minute contemplating whether or not you should actually show up, running your fingers through your hair then rubbing your eyes trying to shake away the thoughts.

Deciding that your grades are plummeting to the ground and that you should go in making an effort to try.

Leaving your car walking in the building your counselor was talking to this kid who you have never seen before, she saw you and called your name then louder and louder, ignoring her and keeping on walking knowing she was going to bring up your attendance.

Along with her talking about your future with colleges and how you need to keep your grades up to get into that college.

Going into your first period the bell had rung just 5 months prior to you walking in, handing the teacher your late pass then sitting down. Your teacher was pulled out into the hallway by said counselor.

Seeing that same kid again you figured that he would be in your class. You just hoped that this day would go by faster, checking the time every minute that passed by.

“Y/n raise your hand.” Your teacher said, looking at you, raising your hand a bit. You looked at her confused. She turned to the kid and proceeded to say, “You can go sit by her.”

Lovely

Now you would have to deal with a kid you have no idea who he is along with asking what this school is like or just basic questions about the school in general, this is just great.

But he was the complete opposite. He looked like this wasn't his first time switching schools. He sat down and placed his head on the desk proceeding to fall asleep, at least it makes it easier for you.

Most of the classes you had were easier than usual which was weird because you thought there was going to be piles and piles of work that you needed to make up but no.

Driving home those thoughts had filled your head once more, turning up the music to tune out the images and memories repaying in your head. You knew that it was just a way of your brain coping with what had happened but still it had hurt.

Walking through the front door, “Mom, I'm home!” You exclaimed loudly so that way she could hear you from your room but to your surprise you heard her say “Here” in the room closest to your living room.

She was by the computer set up right in front of the window with the shaded pulled all the way up. You could see how she was working but something felt off today. There were no stained tears, she was in her work clothes, and seemed happy.

Ofcorce you were happy for her but you also had wondered what had made her so happy, “How was work?” .

“It was really good.” She said with a bright smile on her face

“Someones happy.” Placing your head on her right shoulder

“Yeah.” She smiled to herself but yet hid the details of why she was happy.

“I’m going to go do my homework in my room if you need me just let me know.”

She nodded and proceeded to work on the assignment on the screen, shutting the door and walking up the stairs to go to your room.

Feeling tired from school, I decided to take a small nap. You put your phone on the side table and shut off the light but have the shades slightly open just so that it isn't pitch black in your room.

- Time Skip-

Waking up to hearing a loud noise of voices you had thought you heard screaming in the kitchen rushing downstairs to see what was going on seeing it was your mom and some random guy, walking in the room out of breath as you heartbeat slowed down as you had thought it was your dad yelling at her like he used to.

She was laughing, “Y/n, honey, this is Tom.”

Slowly waving the man who you don’t even know, Who is he? How does mom know him?

Giving her a questionable look she noticed and added, “He’s a friend from work.” He then whispered something in her ear causing her to laugh and playfully slapping his arm.

You faked laughing, then heading upstairs confused.

A month later…

Turns out he was not “just a friend” but rather a guy that she apparently loves as much as she loved dad, thinking to yourself you questioned how they both moved on so easily.

Did they mean nothing to each other?

Not only was Tom moving in but his son as well, Mike.

You were shocked when you first found out and it turns out it was the kid that was sitting next to you during your first period class.

You both occasionally talked but you both kinda stayed to yourself not wanting to bother one another from their life as you both were going through the same thing at the same time.

Just knowing what the other wanted there was an obvious connection between you too as you understood one another, but ignored it as you just wanted space and he respected your opinion.

As time went on you started to talk to Mike more things between the both of you, it felt good; you liked hanging out with Mike, who just recently became your step brother as both of your parents had gotten married to one another. You felt like he understood you and knew exactly what was happening even though half of the stuff he was on the same page as you.

Half of the time you just talked about what was on your mind, things like your parents, school, work and other problems that were happening in your life but not all the time was it bad you guys actually enjoyed hanging out with each other.

You felt like you could tell him anything, he felt like more than a best friend to you and he felt the exact same way.

November

Walking out of the library with Fayah, one of your friends who you have been friends with since the beginning of middle school, she was talking about her boyfriend.

Just then Mike walked up to you guys and started to walk with each other he grabbed your arm and took the cap off the sharpie drawing something on your hand, you just faced Fayah and listened to her talk.

“Yeah he’s doing some stupid challenge, No Nut November.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t know it’s some thing where he doesn’t cum for the whole month, so he doesn’t wanna have sex or else he will fail. I swear i’m gonna cry.” She said fake crying

“Your so dramatic.” You said fake shoving her

Parting ways from her, you and Mike go to your car and start driving home, he was blabbering about how bad your driving was when you told him that the next time he could walk to school, he then fake begged putting his hands together leaning closer to you.

“Y/n don't do me like that, I need you.”

Rolling your eyes you pushed his hands away from you breaking his hands apart from one another, he giggled to himself then talked about all the interesting things that had been happening in the school.

“What was that thing that Fayah was talking about?”

“Some challenge that her boyfriend was doing, she was saying how she was going to cry by the end of the month.”

“Why?”

“She can’t have sex with him, it’s a thing where he can’t cum for the whole month.”

“Sounds like a challenge.” He said smirking

“Your nasty.”

“I’ll make you a bet, if you win i will buy you anything.”

“Anything?” You questioned

“Yup, but if i win you have to buy me something.”

“Deal.”

12 days in…

Walking down sitting next to Mike on the couch being relieved that it was a saturday not having any work to do nor any chores as you already did everything, putting on Criminal Minds he watched it with you.

When Reid came on the screen you acted like the biggest fan girl ever leaning onto Mike and saying, “He’s so fine, that's literally my man.”

“I bet.”

Rolling your eyes you continued laying on his lap watching the show at the part where they were starting to figure out who the unsub was, you felt something on your right cheek.

Looking down you see a bulge forming in his pants, he started to stiffen his body and try to make as little movement as possible.

Sitting up and looking at him, you both made eye contact as he looked nervously into your eyes.

“Don’t be mad.”

“Why would I be mad, you can’t control it, unless you liked me laying on you like that.”

He stayed silent and now refused to look at you looking at his fingers as they fidgeted with one another.

Putting your hands over his, “Answer me, was it because you like me?”

He nodded slowly

“Please don’t tell anyone, you don’t even have to like me back I was just saying cause you told me to.” He talked faster than normal becoming stiff as well.

“No, no it’s okay.” Putting your hand on his thigh rubbing it back and forth as a way to try and calm him down.

But it did the exact opposite, he felt it coming as you continued to rub his thigh he was becoming more desperate for you.

He needed you his cock twitched thinking of all the things he would do to you.

Placing a hand over his bulge in embarrassment he could not look at you at all anymore.

“I’m just going to head upstairs.”

“Why do you can go lose the bet?”

Shit, he forgot all about it but he didn’t want to take a cold shower to calm himself down so he just decided to go through the pain of his hard on.

Walking up the stairs and shutting the door (at least he thought he did) staring at his phone scrolling through instagram.

He came across one of your pictures, he swore he could stare at it for hours.

You were so gorgeous.

Still painfully hard he thought what you didn’t know can’t hurt you.

Finishing up the episode of Criminal Minds you headed upstairs to go and finish your notes you heard a groan coming from his hallway.

There’s no way.

Quietly walking over towards his hallway you peeked your head through his door.

He was thrusting up into his hand as there was a fabric around his dick, it was your underwear you had been missing for almost a month.

He groaned into his pillow with his other hand he was gripping the bed sheets beside him, his knuckles were turning white.

His tip was red as the veins on his dick were very prominent, the more he continued to jerk himself off there was more and more pre cum forming at the tip of it.

“Y-Y/n” He exclaimed in a whisper shout

Trying to get a closer look you tripped on the door making it open you stood up and looked at him, he heard the door and looked up at you with a frightened look.

“Y/N!”

He got the underwear he was jerking off to and placed it over his dick as a way of covering himself.

“You lost, now let me think on what i want.” You walked closer to him sitting on the edge of the bed.

“We’re you watching?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Avoiding the question and looked the other way.

“Need help?”

“Huh?!”

“I mean you already lost the bet so the least i can do is help you instead of using my underwear.”

He looked down and understood what you were talking about.

“Oh i’m sorry.”

“So?”

He took the fabric over his dick off, his dick immediately stood up twitching asking for attention.

Taking his dick in your hand you slowly started to move your hand up and down, low groans were heard from right next to you.

Bringing your hand to your mouth and spitting it on it did something to him, when you did that he felt all queasy.

Going back down to his dick he quietly moan just seconds before you touched him again, wrapping both hands around him jerking him off lightly and twisting both hands the opposite ways.

Not wanting to hurt him you looked up at him for an okay that you are doing good, his head was thrown back and toes curled by the end of his bed.

“I-Y/n I th- think i’m gonna-”

He was cut off as he came all over your hands and chest, he saw where he had came and started to wipe his cum off your tits.

“It’s ok don’t worry about it.” You brushed his hand away

“Thank you.”

“Of course what are step siblings for, also i want a new laptop. Thanks.” Grabbing his cheeks you kissed him on the lips then left.

A week later…

A package was outside your door it was a laptop in a box on the box there was a sticky note and it said…

Y/n, thanks again I had fun maybe again some time. ;)

[wondermilka]

Fading Hearts

Pairing : Alhaitham x fem! reader

Summary : you are in an arranged marriage with Alhaitham.

TW : angst, no comfort.

→ royal era

a/n: im back and with angst ;)

At the break of dawn, you were awoken and the maids immediately came to prepare you for an important journey to the royal palace. She explained that you were to be married to Alhaitham, the sole heir to the throne.

The reason behind this arranged marriage was that the present king insisted Alhaitham could only ascend to the throne after getting married.

Although he had two more years before taking on the responsibilities of rulership, the king struck a deal with your parents.

Due to your family's unwavering loyalty to the royal family for generations and their status as the strongest noble family in the kingdom, they readily agreed to this arrangement without hesitation.

This decision was made even though your parents had little regard for you, their youngest daughter, as you didn't possess the same talents as your older sister.

Despite that, you were sent off to the palace with no possessions, expected to bring nothing but yourself for this pivotal union.

Upon meeting Alhaitham, it became evident that he embodied qualities of duty, honor, and responsibility. He had earned high praise for his governance skills, making him the ideal candidate to ascend to the throne.

From the very day of their wedding, Alhaitham showed no regard for you. Viewing your marriage as a mere political alliance, he paid you little attention, if any at all.

Due due to the demands of his royal responsibilities, Alhaitham often had to leave you behind in your luxurious yet isolated residence, leaving you little time to truly get to know each other.

Understanding the situation, you yourself recognized that your marriage was a legal union rather than one rooted in love. You knew better not to expect anything more from him.

After all, you were nothing but the despised daughter of your family, sent away to wed the heir without your will.

Despite Alhaitham's indifference, you refused to give up on your marriage. You spent your days learning about your husband's interests, hoping to find some common ground that would connect you. You tried to be the perfect wife, preparing his favorite meals, and making sure the palace was a welcoming place for him to return to.

Yet, every time Alhaitham returned from his official duties, he would greet you with a cold nod, barely acknowledging your efforts. It was evident that his heart was elsewhere.

Alhaitham's friend, Kaveh, who was also his trusted advisor, noticed the growing rift between the couple.

He could see the pain in your eyes, hidden behind a forced smile, and the emotional detachment in Alhaitham's actions.

Kaveh confronted Alhaitham, urging him to give their marriage a chance, reminding him that you were a worthy partner who deserved love and respect.

However, Alhaitham remained unwavered, shutting himself off from his emotions. He could not bring himself to love you, and he didn't wish to deceive you with false affection.

He believed that fulfilling his duty as future king was enough, even if it meant living a marriage devoid of love.

He told himself that he must get divorced once he settles down on the throne. But for the meantime, he'll have to hold on for the remaining 2 years.

As the months turned into years, your spirit slowly faded. You continued to put on a facade of happiness for the sake of the kingdom and Alhaitham's reputation, but inside, your heart was breaking.

The once lively and spirited woman was now a shadow of her former self, worn down by the unrequited love and loneliness.

One fateful evening, Alhaitham returned home with a heavy heart. Kaveh had advised him to reconsider his stance, but Alhaitham remained firm.

As he stepped into the palace, he noticed you sitting by the window, tears streaming down your cheeks. The sight pierced his heart, but he couldn't bring himself to console you.

"I'm sorry." Alhaitham whispered as he walked past you without a word, retreating to his study.

You knew that nothing would change; your hopes of gaining his favor and trust were shattered.

You understood that you were simply a pawn in a political game, and Alhaitham's heart had no interest for you.

[i-cant-sing]

Hey hope you're doing well, I love your Greek mythology work!

I am not well (because I have exams) but I am missing my Greek mythology works so I shall spare some thoughts:

Platonic yanderes Hades and Persephone who had kidnapped reader and the forced her to eat pomegranates and drink ambrosia, eagerly waiting to find out what powers their "child" will have, wonderi g if you'll be a god of something like your new parents, only to be pleasantly surprised when you turn out to be a diety of yandere relationships. Not only that, but you also have the power of "attracting yanderes" which means you now have a lot of unwanted admirers, much to your parents displeasure. Now, Hades and Persephone have to deal with not only having to stop you from running away/putting yourself in danger but also ward off any of these deranged yanderes who will defy death and even the gods themselves to get to you.

Romantic yandere Hercules sneaking into Olympus to meet reader, who'd been forbidden by Hera and Demeter (her protective mamas) to not see the himbo ever again, even hiring your diety siblings like Dionysius, Ares, Hermes, etc to keep an eye on you. But himbo yandere Hercules is an unstoppable force and he'll keep on knocking your siblings out until he gets to you, only to pout and apologise when you scold him for hurting your siblings, but you're scolding him from lap with his arms around you, so... a win is a win. He'll let you give him an earful for the rest of eternity if you're by his side (and pregnant with baby number 22🥰)

Platonic yanderes Perseus and Medusa having to cope with not breaking down every five minutes after Medusa had plucked out her daughter's eyes for the second time and now reader had turned non verbal. Even though Perseus had taken reader to Olympus so that Apollo could heal her in his infirmary, she still refuses to talk to them. And it's just a thousand times more painful when grandpa Poseidon visits you and you beg him to take you away from them. It hurts because you'd rather live with the one man who Medusa hates more than anything in the world. Its now up to Perseus to stop the tears of the two most important people in his life.

Romantic yandere Ares returning from battle, all bloodied and tired and he just wants to go to his room and cuddle up to his captive darling who he'd chained to his bed, only to see you running from his castle. Ares just watches you for a few minutes before sighing and tackling you to the ground. "I was hoping for a nice evening today, but I guess not-" "LET ME GO, YOU PERVERT-!" "SILENCE! YOU WILL NOT INETERUPT ME! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!" He yelled at you, glaring at you until you were shaking like a kicked puppy. "Now, since you tried to escape and didn't even make it that far, you will now get up and run around the palace grounds." You looked at him confused. "W-what?" Ares pushed the hair away from your face. "You're gonna run laps. It's to train you. If you're gonna run, you're gonna have to put some effort in. No darling of mine will do a half ass job, even in escaping. So, up you go." He pulled you up before giving your butt a smack. "Run, now."You begin running, confused. "Oh and princess?" You looked behind. "Just for motivation, I'm gonna chase you. And everytime I catch you, I'm gonna do that thinh Ive been wanting to do in bed. But I'll do it right here, in the ground, where anyone can watch." He grinned evilly, watching you run with new vigour.

[beeanca-writing]

That other anon was being an asshole, but I am curious about what you had planned for EfC? Not gonna lie, I'll miss the cast—would be nice to know what happens to who!

I'm still unsure what I'll do with EfC. I might come back to it once this current period of my life is over, though it'd likely be very different. First of all, it'd be a shorter story. I'd either get rid of some of the ROs, or find some way to better integrate them into the narrative (compare Harry, who you can have this huge, important backstory with vs Val, whom I love but is also just some guy, I guess?). It'd also probably be more focused on romance since that's usually what interests me the most in IF anyway.

I also might scrap a lot of it and stick to the storylines that interest me the most—mainly the Harry stuff. A shorter game dealing with The Hedonist returning to Court and having to face Harry sounds really fun to write, and it'd be a lot less complex to plan than this whole mess. Also, Harry is definitely a more developed character than some of the other ROs. For example, I love Camila to death, but she doesn't have much significance in the story other than "The Hedonist's friend" and I was never able to find her some meaning.

I'd also make The Hedonist even more of a fixed character by getting rid of all personality stats and focusing solely on their actions instead of worrying about personality. The stats were all carried over from CoG, and it's never been something I enjoy in their brand of IF. I was going to do this anyway when I first transferred the game to Twine, but stupidly asked Tumblr what they thought and, since most people preferred keeping the stats, I did that even though I didn't really want to.

As for to what would happen to the cast... In case I do come back to EfC, I don't think this would change much, so I'll put it into a read more in case someone doesn't want to know. If anyone has any more questions, don't hesitate to ask!

Grandma would die. Sorry!

Also, Cordelia was The Hedonist's twin who drowned in front of them, but that was a bit obvious, wasn't it? I'd definitely remove that from any rewrites, it's so unnecessary and cliché.

Henry would divorce Elizabeth to be with Nicholas. The Hedonist could either support him on this or not.

Due to the divorce, the rest of the family would be disgraced in Court. Evie's reputation is a little less affected if she's still with Harry.

As I mentioned in the past, The Hedonist can choose whether to stay in Court or not at the end.

The Hedonist and Evie can repair their relationship or not. Evie eventually makes an effort to become friends with The Hedonist, and you could choose whether to play nice or not. If The Hedonist romances Harry and you manage to have a good relationship, she forgives you, but asks for some time away from both The Hedonist and Harry.

I didn't really plan Camila's character arc well. She becomes a Republican rebel and can either still be friends with The Hedonist or have distanced herself a bit if they continue to be an asshole.

Sabina can choose to no longer be a nun if encouraged either by a friend or romanced Hedonist. If you romanced her but didn't encourage her to leave the convent, she dumps you. (Note: You later find out she was forced to become a nun by her family.)

Similarly to Sabina, Narcissa can choose to break things off with the Emperor if, again, encouraged either by a friend or romanced Hedonist.

Calvin's ending is the wildest one, actually. He finds out he's a father after the boy's mother passes away. The Hedonist can either tell him to abandon the boy or tell him to raise him (if Calvin is romanced, they kind of become a step parent).

Val can be encouraged to start studying to become a librarian. Also, his whole thing is that his father is the Emperor lol

Lastly, horse boy Harry will want to divorce Evie if romanced and marry The Hedonist instead. If you refuse to marry him, he divorces her anyway but doesn't stay with The Hedonist. A friend!Harry stays with Evie, I think? I don't know.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Love’s treasure; Kili x reader

*Author’s note*

Okay so this has been sitting in my inbox for awhile but I finally got the inspiration and time to do this fic after getting the boost from another Kili and Fili request as well as my Celestial story.  So @sweetpeapod​ thank you for your patience and hope you see this fic and enjoy it as much as I did writing it these past couple days.

Synopsis: Reader is Aragorn’s older cousin (I imagine by 11 years so she’s about 21). Gandalf knew of her skills as a Ranger for both tracking and navigating and sought her out to be apart of the company.

NO WARNINGS REALLY JUST SOME FLUFF and a bit of angst from parental death/abandonment. 

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@queen-paladin​

@queensdivas​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@gay-and-ready-to-cry​

________________________________________________________

I observed the dark blue bead in my hand and pondered just how it had gotten lost.  It was a game I’ve always like to play, anytime I would find a lost object or weapon I’d always come up with a good story on why it got lost and whether or not the owner of said object is out there scouring Middle Earth for it’s safe return.

“What are you up to sister?” I looked up and peeking from behind the Elvish statue was my baby cousin Aragorn, or better known for his safety Estel.  Yes, Aragorn the future king of Men is in fact my cousin on his mother’s side (she is my father’s younger sister).

“I thought you were to be in your studies with Lindir? He’s taken a great deal of time and effort to educate you little one.” I lectured him with a raised brow as he came and sat down beside me on the bench.

“But I already know of the founding of Rivendell and how to speak Elvish.”

“Then tell me who was the mentor of Lord Elrond?” I replied in Elvish.  He looked at me puzzled before he crossed his arms pouting.

“I don’t like you no more.”

“Oh yeah not the first time you’ve said that to me. Or the time after that or the time after that.” I playfully reprimanded him lowering my voice to as deep of a baritone as I could muster while tickling his sides making his squirm and laugh.  “What was that you were looking at earlier?”

“What? You mean this?” I said picking up the bead.  He looked at it with curious eyes and asked me.

“Where did it come from?”

“Why don’t you answer that question. Where do you believe this bead came from cousin?” he stared at the bead, pondering over it.  His tongue slightly peeking out from his lips as he said.

“I believe…..this bead came from some merchants who were on their way to the Blue Mountains when suddenly trolls from the North ambushed them and gobbled them all up, leaving only this bead.”

“Goodness child! You really believe such a cruel fate came to innocent merchants?” he nodded.  “Alright, then I’m going to have to speak with Elladan about changing your bedtime stories.”

“No please (Y/n). He tells the best stories don’t make him stop!” I smirked softly and said as I ruffled his head.

“Very well Estel. Now care to help me braid this into my hair?” he nodded as I sat down onto the floor so that he could properly braid my hair before putting the bead on it.

“Where do you think this bead came from sister?” he asked me.

“Well little one I’ve been putting a lot of thought into it. And I think this bead might hold more meaning than meets the eye. I believe this bead was once part of a Prince’s clothing ensemble. My story is that he fell in love with a woman but wished to give her not gold or jewels for her hand, but something more meaningful to him. So he took this bead from his clothing to present to his love. However, when he went to present his gift to his love, he had overheard of his love being taken by orcs while she was out for a ride on her horse. In his haste, he dropped the bead hoping to rescue his love in time.”

“And did he? Did he ever save his true love?” Estel asked me as he paused in mid-braid.

“I’d like to say they did. And the two of them are living together in the comforts of their newly built home hoping to raise a family together.” We both turned around and there stood Kili.

“Prince Kili!” exclaimed Estel as he raced over to the young dwarf prince.  Kili smiled at my cousin and ruffled his head playfully before greeting him.

“Hello there Estel, being good for your cousin I see?”

“(Y/n) was telling me of a bead she found while out on your travels.”

“So I overheard. Hope it’s alright if I added a small opinion to your story.” He said turning to me.

“I’m always open to new suggestions. I tend to leave mine in a mist of mystery. Drives this little one nuts.”

“She never seems to want to finish the story with her trinkets and earnings.” He whined.

“One day lad you’ll see that sometimes it’s better when things are left to the imagination, instead of always having a one-sided ending.” Kili said to Estel.

“And speaking of story endings, it’s best that you get back to your studies with Lindir. He’s probably already alerted Lord Elrond of your skipping’s. And you know how Lord Elrond is that you keep up with your studies.”

“Aww! But Kili only just arrived.” Estel whined.

“Tell you what lad, you head back and finish your studies. Then once you’re done, meet me and my brother in the training grounds and we’ll teach you how we Dwarves battle off orcs and goblins.”

“Can I sister please?!” Estel begged me clasping his hands together and looking up at me with those bright blue eyes of his.

“If your mother and Lord Elrond say it’s alright.” Estel cheered before racing off and bidding us goodbye.  I playfully shook my head, “I swear that child is more like a rabbit than a boy. Always full of energy and on the move.”

“Ahhh let him enjoy it. He is young, soon he’s going to grow and lose that sense of wonder and joy once he gets out into the real world.”

“You didn’t.” I teased as Kili gawked and softly laughed.

“True, but there are times where I wish I could go back to the days of my childhood. Me and Fili battling out against dragons and orcs and winning without any consequence of the outcome.” I nodded in agreement.  “So what was the bead that you and your cousin were discussing the origins of?” I then showed Kili the strand that Estel had braided for me which held the dark blue bead in my hair.

“I had found it just shortly before we had a run in with those trolls. Saw it hidden just beside a small patch of rocks. Figured it was worth keeping rather than letting it be forgotten amongst Yavanna’s earth.” When I turned to Kili I saw that his eyes were widened and his jaw seemed tense.  “Kili? Kili?”

“Huh? What sorry I-I was…..I have to go.” Suddenly he turned his back and hastily left the garden. My head tilted confused as to why he had left so sudden without another word? I shrugged before sitting back down to admire the bead.

*Kili’s POV*

She had my bead. (Y/n) had my family bead, not only did she have it but she was wearing it. Could-could it mean? No that’s impossible! There’s no way a Ranger of the North could fall for someone like me? But then why would she place my bead into her hair and have it braided?

“…..li? Oi Kili!” I snapped out of my daze to see Fili and Bofur standing before me in what appeared to be a den area of the Elvish realm.  All over the place there were beds and wooden furniture carved to perfection.

“You looked about as lost as a lamb there lad, everything alright?” asked Bofur.

“I—well I’m beginning to question that myself.”

“What is it Kili? You’re not ill are you?”

“No Fili, well not in the normal sense of illness.”

“Ahh-hahaha I think I know.” Bofur said.  “You, Kili, have fallen under the sickness of love. And I think I know just who it is that has caught your affections.” Bofur wiggled his brow towards my brother as I let out a groan.

“It’s not like that!”

“So you don’t have feelings for (Y/n)?” asked Fili.  I did a double take towards my brother and said to him.

“Wait you—you knew?”

“Your my brother Kili. You may have always been a flirt back home but never before have I seen you act around a woman the way you do with (Y/n).” I felt my face heat up as I said to them.

“It’s not just that.” They both looked at me perplexed.  “Remember how I had told you Fili that I had lost one of my beads that mother gave me?” my brother nodded.  “It turns out (Y/n) had found it. Not only that but after just recently talking with her, I had seen that she had braided it into her hair.”

At that confession, they both began to understand the gravity of the situation.

“Surely she must not know what it means to us. I mean you see a bead and the first thought is to braid it into your hair. Surely she can’t know what it means to us, does she?” I asked nervously.

“I wouldn’t be knowing Kili, but if I am honest with yah, I think she might feel the same about you.” Bofur said.

“How would you know Bofur?” I snapped.

“You may not know it laddie, but that lass will look at you when she knows you’re not looking. And I see the same loving look in her eyes that you give to her.”

“You’re jesting Bofur. There’s no way she looks at me like that!”

“I wouldn’t be too sure brother.” Fili said.  I turned to him as he continued, “Remember back with the trolls? When they were going to put you onto the spit, (Y/n) fought to take your place.”

“But wasn’t that because we’re part of the same company? She’s just looking out for us. That’s her nature. Her kind, caring, motherly nature.” I trailed off as I felt my heart skip a beat.

“All I’m saying brother is maybe you should talk to her.”

“And how should I start it off? How about saying something like, ‘Greetings (Y/n), you know the bead you’ve got in your hair in that braid? It’s actually my family bead and by braiding it into your hair you’ve agreed to be my wife. Will you marry me?’ No.” I scoffed the last part.  “I can’t force that onto her.”

“I’m not saying lead on with that. But maybe just talk to her and see if there is any mutual feelings between the two of you. If there is, you’ll finally be happy with her. If not, then at least you’ll have your answer.”

“And if it is a rejection that comes my way? How do you expect me to cope with it? She’ll never look at me the same way again.”

“Even if she does reject your affections Kili, I doubt (Y/n) is the kind of person to make whatever bond she makes feel inferior to how it was before. But like your brother said laddie, you’ll never know unless you talk to her.” Bofur said.

I looked at the two of them, took a deep breath and thanked them for the advice before I left to go find (Y/n) before it grew dark.

*1ST Person POV*

I was at the training grounds with my bow and arrow hoping to get in some last minute training before I would retire for the night.  I notched an arrow onto the bowstring, pulled it back, took a breath before steadying my hand and let the arrow fly.  It hit dead center and I notched another arrow into the bow before releasing that and it hit the center as well as splitting the arrow.

“Ahh, when did you learn to do that?” I turned to see Kili looking between me and the target in amazement.

“When I was a little girl, when I refused to believe that a bow was just something my aunt would tie to my curly locks.” I said notching another arrow into my bow and fired it at the target splitting the other two arrows.  “My uncle agreed. He said learning to fight was essential whether you wore a dress or trousers. He was the wisest man I ever knew.”

“Wish my kin were as supportive at first when I had wish to take the bow and arrow as my main weapon of choice.”

“Thing was he wasn’t just supportive. My uncle he—he was the only father figure I ever had after my own dad walked out on my mother. After she was killed by orcs, my aunt took me in. He took me aside one early morning, taught me everything I know about fighting and said to me, ‘(Y/n), my little raven. If you remember what you’re fighting for you’ll never miss your target’.” I said remember my uncle Arathorn as a good man.

He was not only a good leader to the Rangers up in the North, but he was a loving man who loved his wife.  And loved a child that was not his own blood as a father should.  Raised her, taught her to fight but also keep a level head. I only wish that Aragorn had the same opportunity to bond with his father as I did.

“He sounds like a good man.” Kili told me solemnly.

“Aye. He was.” I said clasping the necklace he gave me a year after being adopted into the family. It’s not much just a simple silver chain with a raven in flight pendant on it but it’s so special to me and never once have I taken it off.

“Is that why you like collecting small objects?” he asked me.  I smiled solemnly and nodded.

“When I was a child and would go with him on patrols, most of the Rangers tired of how I would stop them to find a loose button or a smooth pebble perfect for skipping across the river. But never my uncle, in fact he always encouraged me to keep at it. Said that I’d never know when I might find the greatest treasure of them all.”

We sat there in a comfortable silence for a brief moment (although it felt like an eternity) until Kili finally spoke up.

“I uhh…..” he trailed off softly.  “I think you might’ve missed the target.” I looked at him confused before turning to the target where my split arrows were.  “No not….” He softly chuckled, “I meant with your story. The one you told your cousin about. For the bead.”

“Did I?” he softly nodded but he refused to look me directly in the eye.  “Care to elaborate your theory of this bead?”

“Well it’s not much different from yours. Just some minor details changed. The bead did in fact belong to a prince. But the bead was a part of his family’s heirloom, one that would be meant for a future courting. However, while out on a quest, he had realized that he had lost it. He searched and searched but could not find the bead anywhere. The Prince was heartbroken, not only of the fact he had lost his family bead, but that one day he had hoped to give it to the woman he loves was now gone. Then a few days after the start of his quest, he soon finds the woman he loves wearing his bead into her braided hair.”

He fiddled with his hands before finally looking up at me, his eyes holding both a loving gaze but also a hint of fear and insecurity.  I then watched as his eyes soon turned to look at my braid.  I lifted it up and stared at the bead only for my heart to stop and my stomach sink.

Wait…..could he mean—

“You don’t have to say anything. I won’t force you plus you did not know that braiding a Dwarf’s family bead means you accept a courtship with me. I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks now but I cannot deny my feelings any longer. (Y/n), I……” I stopped his rambling by bestowing a small kiss to his cheek.

“My heart feels the same way Kili.” His eyes widened with surprise looked at me and from his stubbled face I could see the faintest hint of a blush.

“Really?”

“Really, really.” I said with a warm smile.  A bright smile soon started to show itself on his face as he took my hands into his and bestowed a sweet kiss to the back of my knuckles.

“Mahal’s beard my—my heart is pounding more harder than Aulë slamming his axe upon a mountain of stone.”

“And the very breath within me feels like it has been sucked away.” I said to him.

“Is this what finding my One feels like? If it is, I never want it to go away. Nor do I wish to see you go.”

“I may not know the concept of your One, but if it’s anything to what we call soulmates then yes. I saw it every day with my aunt and uncle before his death. They held the purest form of true love I had only ever read in story books. But never did I hope to experience such a love.”

“Best get used to it amrâlimê, because I will spend every hour of my wakened days giving all my love to you.” I knelt down beside him and cupped the side of his face, brushing away the dark strands of his hair as I felt his hand gently cup my jawline as our forehead softly touched one another’s.

Our noses slowly grazing across the other’s like wind in the grass until finally our lips became one and we gifted our devoted love for each other through each kiss and stolen baited breath.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not letting my brother write on a birthday card for our mom?

First of all, context. I am 19 and my brother is 22, we are both currently still living in our parent's house for reasons which aren't important for this story. Our mom's birthday was coming up, and we have a family tradition of making our own cards rather than using store bought ones. I'm an artist so I've always enjoyed drawing my own card and giving it to my family members. But every time instead of making his own card, my brother will ask to write on mine at the last second. Really, it's not a big deal but it made me upset that he could never be bothered to put in the effort to make his own or do it any day before. I also suspect that because he's not as good at drawing as me it's also a self esteem thing, where he thinks his own card isn't good enough. So, last birthday was my mother's, I completed my card and hid it away so she wouldn't find it. Predictably, on the day only an hour before my mom returned home, my brother came running over asking me where my card was. I told him bluntly he could make his own card. This made him mad and he started angrily searching through all my drawers and making a real mess. I told him again to make his own and after insulting me a few times, he went and made his own card. Mom was pleased by both our cards and I thought it all worked out fine. But he is still upset with me a few days afterwards so I'm wondering if I was in the wrong and if I should apologise. So, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[navnae]

Eddie made it known for many years that he could careless for Christmas. As a kid his parents didn’t even attempt the whole ‘Santa is real’ deal since they couldn’t really afford to get him anything so they killed off that tiny bit of imagination that he had has a child. He always loved his life realistically and pretending a man in a big red suit was real wasn’t apart of that. The older Eddie got he spent most of his time trying to make some money to support himself and his uncle because his parents decided to drop him off there one day then never returning. That was his reality of the holidays, the people you love abandoning you like it wasn’t hard to do despite loving them with all their flaws. Wayne tried to make Christmas somewhat tolerable for Eddie and he got him little items just to remind him that he’s always going to be there for him. He appreciated Wayne’s efforts but that didn’t erase those memories of sitting alone on the floor staring at an empty wall imagining a big Christmas lighting up the room, Eddie wished he could’ve had a normal childhood like everybody else and he meant that in more ways than one.

Steve on the other hand had amazing Christmas’s, at least when he was younger he did. He always had the best gifts and his house looked like a castle that was decorated with the brightest lights. Steve and his family did secret Santa with his neighbors for years sometimes they would even come over to eat dinner. Steve helped his mom bake cookies for Santa while wearing their ugly sweaters and Christmas music blasting through the speakers of their radio. Steve’s dad brought home the biggest Christmas tree that he could find almost touching the ceiling of his house. They would stay up for hours decorating the tree until it came to putting the star on top which was Steve’s favorite part of the whole decorating process. He just loved Christmas so much and whenever he got the chance he would always show his holiday spirit.

Eddie told Steve about his experience and he’s heard what Steve’s story about Christmas was too. Both of them were stuck in between completely dropping the holiday or go through with celebrating it, either way someone wasn’t going to be satisfied. Eddie expected Steve to do whatever he wanted while he would probably just stay in his room being closed off from the world. That didn’t happen Eddie this year because he didn’t realize how serious Steve took Christmas. When Eddie arrived at school and opens his locker he was met with a folded letter. He opened the letter that said ‘I know you don’t celebrate Christmas but I promise to make this year worth celebrating it! Love you baby - from Steve’. Eddie rolled his eyes at the cheesy letter but he still smiled at how cute Steve could be even through a piece of paper. Later that day Eddie went over to Steve’s house not really keeping his bite in mind and he blindly walked into one of Steve’s tricks. Steve pulled Eddie in for a kiss as soon as Eddie entered the front door and they stayed like that for a few seconds before going into the living room. Eddie noticed wrapped gifts on the table organized perfectly for him to see. He turned to Steve already frowning at the idea that he got him a gift knowing that he didn’t want anything like that.

“Steve.” Eddie said warningly. Steve guided him towards the couch by holding his wrist. He was smiling from ear to ear already and nothing happened yet.

“I know how you feel about these things but I think you might like these.” Steve said happily as he looked at the gifts on the table. Eddie still doubted what Steve was trying to do but he figured if Steve went of his way to do all of this then maybe Eddie could get behind it.

“Okay. You better not disappoint, Harrington.” Eddie joked. Both of them let out a laugh before Eddie reached for one of the gifts and unwrapped it. When Eddie opened the box his jaw dropped immediately. He looked back and forth between the gift and Steve. “Steve no you fucking didn’t.”

“I did.” Steve shrugged. Eddie was losing his mind like never before. In his hands was a guitar pick that has been signed by his favorite band and it’s been on his wish list for a few months now but there was no way he could get it because it costed a fortune.

“This is a limited edition guitar pick that costs more than all the clothes I own combined. How were you able to get this?” Eddie asked while looking at the pick in complete shock.

“Well let’s just say I pulled a few strings with the guy from the music store and I was able to work out something.” Steve said casually. Eddie couldn’t believe what he was hearing and he couldn’t put into words how thankful he was for the gift. “That’s not all, open the other one.”

Eddie forgot about the other gift on the table. He placed the guitar pick back into its box then reached for the other gift. Slowly he tore off the wrapping paper revealing a small box that had something light inside of it. Eddie took off the lid and raised a brow. Keys were in the box, Eddie doesn’t remember asking for a car so this gift confused him.

“Keys?” Eddie looked over to Steve who was basically jumping from excitement.

“Eddie, do you remember when you said Wayne always had a dream car that he wouldn’t stop talking about?” Steve smiled softly once Eddie finally understood what the gift meant.

Silence came over them mostly Eddie was the one that needed to take a second and process everything that’s taking place right this second. He couldn’t believe that Steve did all of this for him willingly. Eddie never had anyone go out of their way to get him things that he genuinely wanted and the fact that he got something for Wayne made his entire world spin. He didn’t know what got into him but for some reason he could feel himself tearing up the more he thought about how out of everyone in this world Steve was the only person listening to him, he was really listening to him.

“Hey are you-“

Steve got interrupted by Eddie capturing his lips and both of them falling onto the couch. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck to deepen the kiss while Steve brought his hands down to Eddie’s waist. They made each other breathless within a few minutes of rubbing their hands all over each other. Craving each other’s kisses as if there was a time limit to every single one. Eddie couldn’t imagine a life without Steve being his one and only true love, his everything. With puffy lips and blushing cheeks Eddie pulled away to admire his beautiful boyfriend. Steve looked up at like he was the only person in the world and he didn’t want to look away from him not even for a second. He took his thumb then gently wiped away the tears that rolled down Eddie’s face before pulling him close.

“Merry Christmas, baby. I love you.” Steve whispered against Eddie’s lips.

“I love you too and merry Christmas.” Eddie whispered back and for the first time in awhile he genuinely meant those words.

All because of Steve.

-

Part 2 here

[ur-frndly-neighborhood-memer1]

WHAT WOULD URSA DO IF AZULON ORDERED AZULA'S DEATH INSTEAD?

In "Zuko Alone" we learn that Zuko's mother Ursa was disappeared one night and we never learn what happened to her...

...until "The Search" comics was published. In "The Search", we find out that Ursa made a deal with Ozai to spare Zuko's life.

When Ozai claimed Iroh's birthright after Lu Ten's death, Fire Lord Azulon got mad and told Ozai that Iroh has suffered enough already, but Ozai's suffering has just begun. And then he orders him to kill Zuko to understand Iroh's situation. And as Ozai already admitted in "The Day of Blacksun" part 2, he was really going to kill Zuko.

But before he could commit anything, Ursa learned the whole story from Azula and came up with a plan to save Zuko's life.

But...

How would things be different if Azulon ordered Azula's death instead?

We know for a fact that Ozai always despised his son, and wouldn't have an issue with killing him.

But Ozai definitely favored Azula and wanted her as his heir. And we can safely say that if Ozai ever cared about anyone, it is Azula.

So he wouldn't want to kill his ideal heir and prodigious child. He would object to Azulon, but of course, it wouldn't matter...

And let's not forget, Azula was there the whole time and secretly listening to them. I don't think she would take it well when her grandfather ordered her death and her father would have to do it.

So Azula probably go to her mother and tell her the whole thing.

Ursa would stand there in silence for a minute, then would calmly say:

THANK FUCK I'M FINALLY GETTING RID OFF YOU, YOU LITTLE SHIT!

Because Ursa was a horrible mother, she was toxic and abusive, and she wouldn't give a damn about a Azula!

.

.

.

Well, not really...

First of all, Ursa definitely loved Azula. Yes, she was a bit neglectful towards her but it wasn't because she didn't care about her daughter (and she definitely did)

Ozai already favored Azula over Zuko, and he was pretty harsh and cruel towards his son. That's why Ursa had to put an extra effort to make her son feel loved, in order to fulfill her husband's lack of parenting.

But while she was trying so hard to make up for Ozai's abusive treatment, she neglected Azula without knowing it. This is why Azula said her mother loved Zuko more than her.

"I could sit here and complain how my mother loved Zuko more than me but I don't really care"

Pay attention, in "The Beach" Azula didn't say "My mother didn't love me", but she said "My mother loved Zuko more than me".

Azula isn't ignoring the fact that her mother indeed loved her. But the issue was simply her mother's favoritism towards Zuko.

And when Azula grabs and threatens Ursa in "The Search", Ursa only replies like this:

"I'm sorry I didn't love you enough"

"Enough" is the key word here, it's even stated in the comics as well.

Because Ursa indeed loves her daughter, but she realized she didn't love her enough.

As I said, she was a bit neglectful towards her. But she was also reacting angrily whenever Azula misbehaved.

Like, when she asked if Iroh doesn't return, would that make her dad next in line. You can see here that Ursa replied coldly.

Or when Azula said Azulon was probably going to die soon, Ursa angrily silenced her.

Of course it's understandable why Ursa got angry over Azula's constant mischief and bullying.

But I'd dare to say her "anger" had more concern in it than actual rage.

When Ursa questioned what was wrong with her daughter, she didn't say it in an angry or disgusted tone like, "UGH, WHY IS THAT CHILD LIKE THAT? I CAN'T BARE HER!" But instead, her voice was calm and you can hear the concern in it.

So that "What is wrong with that child?" question isn't about being disgusted of Azula, but simply about wondering why she was acting this way.

We've seen that Azula was burning flowers, hurting turtleducks, bullying her brother and playing cruel pranks at her friends at such a young age. These are serious red flags for a child's state of mind. But what's even more concerning is how Azula reacts to her cousin's and grandfather's death, and she also wished Iroh to die.

No wonder why Ursa was so worried about Azula's mental well being.

But still, Azula's misbehaviors doesn't change the fact that Ursa's love for her is unconditional.

And if Azulon ordered Azula's death, Ursa would do the exact same things which she did for Zuko.

So at the end, it wouldn't really change the story. Ursa would kiss goodbye Azula and Zuko, and then would leave.

However, even when she was a kid, Azula was smart enough to figure out why her mother was banished. And therefore she would understand she did something to save her life. So in this scenario, Azula would truly understand that her mother loved her just as much as Zuko. And at the end, the memories of Ursa couldn't come back to haunt her.

[eldritch-spouse]

with Santi and Vesper (and mayhaps Belo if you got the time) what about an aromantic obsession who isn't romance-repulsed? that just means an aromantic who—while they still struggle with romantic gestures and stuff—isn't necessarily against being in a romantic relationship. and sex isn't meaningless to them; they do consider it very intimate and you're practically vulnerable in that state, so they only want to do it with those they can completely trust and feel safe around.

they put in the effort to try and make up for their lack of romantic attraction towards their inhuman partner, which would probably lead to search results like "how to set up a romantic date?", "are candles romantic?", "best candle scents for a date", "should you leave the lights on or off for a date?", "how to properly romance an incubus/angel", "best types of romantic dates", etc., you get the point.

This is a sad pairing... For all of them.

As said before, Santi will never be content with someone who can't reciprocate his love, finding out you're aromantic is a fucking crushing blow to the incubus. He feels a part of him die right there. No matter how hard you try, he can't delude himself, you're just parroting what you think romance is all about. You don't feel it. But that's fine, he can force you too. He can fix you.

No demon enjoys dealing with angels, and realistically, even if more have began showing themselves after Belo's parents "visited", he knows chances are neigh impossible a seraphim would want to strike a deal. That's not to say he can't find seraphim-related products though. He's very hopeful one of which will force genuine infatuation into you.

Vesper doesn't notice it at first. He assumes you're still flustered and coming to terms with your new life, with Hell, with demons, with your role as Queen. But then, as the months pass and you show lackluster or strained displays of love, it slowly starts sinking in. You're not in love with him. You never were, and now that you've told him what you are, he's instantly depressed. That's just so... Unfair! His Queen, unable to love him?! What a joke. Vesper's another one you can't fool. This will eat him alive, you're literally the one person he's ever felt love for, it really is a cruel cruel joke... Vesper will drag a seraphim into the bowels of Hell even if he's scorched alive for it, but you will love him.

Belo will endure it for the most part. He doesn't see himself as an equal to you, he doesn't expect his goddess to ever love him, he doesn't deserve it- He's lowly compared to you. Or maybe that's just what the power tells himself, maybe there's a part of him that hopes you'll return his feelings one day, something he doesn't voice. Belo tries to tell himself that you being aromantic doesn't change anything anyway, but it does. He thinks he'd rather take you being a hopeless romantic who falls for everyone over this... The angel manages to bottle his selfishness most of the time, but sometimes you do something vaguely romantic and a pang of hurt settles on his chest. It grows and grows and grows and chews him up like a rabid dog- But Belo sweeps it under the rug one more time. One day that rug will rip at the seams.

[xticklemeemox]

The Love You Want: II, part one.

Summary:

II wanted to be acknowledged. To be seen for all the effort he puts into every part of his life. Sleep offers him that

Asks him to become a vessel, the Second.

Asks him to fulfill the wish of their First, Vessel, his wish to be loved.

There was something about Vessel that drew II in, like a moth to a flame. Finding out just how damaged Vessel is doesn't make II run, it makes him want to stay.

Part two of The Love You Want series, detailing II's acceptance of Sleep and transformation into a Vessel, and just how quickly the two came to care for each other.

They were destined for it, to love and be loved in return, and no amount of hesitation or fear on Vessel's part could stop the entwining of their souls.

Tags: hurt/comfort, self-harm, mutual pining, implied/referenced past domestic abuse, implied referenced past parental neglect, religious themes, suicide, murder, self-worth issues, Vessel Has A Bad Time™️, so does II but he's got Vessel =D, Temporary Character Death, eventual polyvessels. Eventual II/Vessel.

Ngl this fic was supposed to be more slow burn than this but II said nuh uh I will be loving and adoring Vessel and if anything happens to him I will kill everyone in this room and then myself

Word count: 10,223

Masterlist

Part one

Link to ao3:

Fic under the cut

They came to him in a dream as he was teetering on the edge of life and death.

He remembered choking, gasping for breath as his own blood bubbled past his lips as he coughed it up and back onto himself. There was a knife in his chest, his wallet nowhere to be seen. He hurt, knees bruised and palms scraped as his lungs burned with a fire he'd never felt before. A bruise blossoming along his jaw and the back of his head felt... wet. Darkness at the edge of his vision encroaching quickly. His life before this had been mundane, working a job he hated and focusing on his drumming hobby in his free time. Cutting through an alley to get home faster had cost him his life, but he was so tired, eager to get home after his boss kept him overtime promising to pay, when he knows the man just likes to see him suffer and not pay him his dues. He didn't let that stop him from fighting tooth and nail against his robber though, hopes they have to go to the hospital for the broken jaw and nose, and the teeth marks in his arm. Maybe he would've lived another day, but there's no point in dwelling on it now. He's dead, or close to it anyway.

They came to him. Asked him to be born anew as he floated in a vast expanse of stars, weightless as Their voice echoed around him, an amalgamation of every voice he had ever heard. "Will you be my vessel through which my message will be spread? I can give you everything you've ever wanted, if you accept me into your mind, your body, and your soul."

"You want me to be your vessel? To spread your message? Who are you? What about my cat Elvira? I can't leave her, she's my beloved pet." He raises an eyebrow, looking around him at the beauty of the stars as a small sense of wonder flows through him.

"I am Sleep, though that is not my true name. It cannot be spoken by any era of your race, ancient as it is. I suppose you can keep your so-called pet, though I do not understand its purpose."

"Sleep? Like, literal sleep?" Theres a pause, "Why do you want me?"

"In truth, I want you to be a companion of my first Vessel. Your musical abilities and loving soul wrapped in steel drew me in, and you would make an almost perfect fit as a vessel of mine. Alas, I did not need more than one Vessel, so I chose the most perfect one, my First vessel. But, he has experienced a great deal of pain in his life. In exchange for being my Vessel, my First, he has asked to be loved. With your help, I will give him the love of the world through his music in which he worships me and brings new followers. I will gain more worshippers from this, ultimately, with more than one of you. Admittedly, I have endeavored to grant his wish on a more personal level."

"What, so I'm going to help your first vessel with his music career and in return gain, what, exactly? What do I get out of this?"

"What is your wish?"

Thinking on it, the answer comes to him easily with a tilt of his head. "I wish to be acknowledged for my talents, I suppose."

"I can grant you that in more ways than one. Through your worship, yourself and my vessel will gain fame and prosperity. I foresee many worshippers will love you for your talents. My vessel will know your skill, adept in music as he is. His nature, his experiences, will allow him to acknowledge your talents and the effort you put into every part of your life."

"Why do you want to help this first vessel of yours so much anyway? You seem confident that he will acknowledge me. Not many in my life ever have."

"I cannot understand pain. I do not feel it, cannot even imagine it. I am hoping as his companion, you, and eventually some others, will love him in whatever capacity you all can. He has never once been loved in his short life, broken down by those who were supposed to love him, and in his despair ended his life, bringing him to me. You're a caring soul who can help him take care of himself, and he needs that most of all. There is no question of the lengths he will go to be loved."

"Show me him." He decides, warming up to the idea quickly.

He was alone in his apartment with just his cat for company. His last relationship ended amicably, but there was always something missing from every one he'd ever had. Maybe this way he won't be so alone.

"Very well."

The expanse around him shrinks down to a small galaxy in front of him, and in that swirling void of stars, a moving image forms. A masked man sits on the floor, leaned against a wall. No part of his face is visible but there is a mess of dark hair spilling out over the sides of the mask. Something hypnotizing about him, pulling him under with every passing moment. There is a pen and journal in his hands, and as the man watches Vessel, he can hear a beautiful, sad tune being hummed. Then, he begins to sing quietly, the lyrics on the paper before him forming a haunting melody.

"The daylight recedes in unison, this room buries the hours like death in motion, nobody else can pull me out, the fields of elation, quiet and loamy~"

His voice is gorgeous, bouncing off the walls with its strength and control. There is despair clawing it's way out from his throat, overcast by the bitter hope, golden tears dripping from the bottom of the mask. The first vessel lifts it enough for his lips to show and a shaky exhale falls from the onlookers lips as pale skin and bitten lips are revealed to him.

Angel bite piercings glint in the fading sunlight as the mask is put back in place. There's an aching in his soul, as though some part of him calls out to the sad man sitting all alone in a bare room, singing with the most beautiful voice he has ever heard.

Unable to look away, even as the image fades, the man speaks his answer before the God has any chance to say anything. There's something drawing him in. Something about that man. He has never felt anything like it, and wants to know him. He has to. Something in him demands it. Craves it. Aches for him. He would consider it scary if it didn't feel so right.

"I accept. I will become your second vessel. What do I have to do?"

The universe around him changes. Within a blink, he is laying on a beach. Sand surrounds him and sticks to his messy hair as he sits up quickly. The waves nearby are loud, crashing onto shore gently and receding. The sky above him is cloudy, dark masses swirling above and across the grey expanse, just barely visible in the night. Above him, a large moon hangs, its glowing rays never touching the ground he sits upon, like a barrier stops it.

He sits in a circle of candles, their yellow flame the only illumination around.

"An offering of your blood will suffice, and in return I will grant you some of my power as I did my first."

"A blood offering? That's it?" Raising an eyebrow, he can't help but think this all seems a bit underwhelming.

He's accepting a God into his mind, body, and soul, and all they require is a little blood?

"Much of my essence was given to the First, as was required. We are not being connected in quite the same way, so the requirements are different. Blood will suffice."

"Fine, what do I do?"

An ornate plate materializes next to him, and on it, a sharp knife with a simple wooden hilt.

"Do not be alarmed, and look away before too long passes."

The moon splinters at the bottom, six black eyes blinking open at once along its surface to stare down at him. From the gaping hole still slowly splintering apart, dark tendrils emerge, thick masses that taper down to a point, and they head right towards him. He only watches for a moment, looking away, down at the sand, like Sleep ordered. He wonders if his mind would have survived looking any longer.

"Offer every bit of blood you have to me. I will replace it with my essence."

"All of it? Won't that kill me?"

"You are already dead. You need to become something more than human. Do not fret, my first did the same thing."

"Did he also need to cut into his own arm and let himself bleed out?"

"No, he did not offer up his blood in the same way. If I had asked him to, he could have with ease. My first is quite used to making himself bleed."

Horror fills him at the blatant implications of what that means. He could tell the first vessel was depressed, had killed himself, but to be so in pain that he brought even more of it to himself on purpose? Steeling his resolve, he picks up the knife. This first vessel was likely going to continue following a dark path, and he wants to help steer him from it. His soul demands it.

He's shaking as he brings the knife to his wrist. This is a small price to pay for the power of a God, he tries to reason with himself. He'll be granted fame and finally be acknowledged for his talents and efforts. He'll be gaining someone who will see him for who he is, accept him. Sleep promised that.

"Will I remember any of this?" He asks, wincing as the first drag of the blade up his vein stings and burns with fire.

He continues as Sleep answers, blood spilling over his arm up to his elbow before he moves on to the next arm. The tendrils snake their way around his bleeding arm, and a strange feeling emits from the limb, a tingling like the limb has fallen asleep but the pain remains.

"You will remember only that I have asked you to help bring worshippers my message by helping my first Vessel. You will tell him the same, and your wish when you accepted. You will not remember anything else. I do not understand humans, but from what I've witnessed through their dreams and nightmares, I fear that if I tell him your purpose is to love him, he will never trust you nor accept it."

"Hm, that makes sense. He might have some issues then, but I'm perfectly willing to help him with them, if he'll let me. He's- I've never seen someone radiate such bone-deep sadness before. I want to help him."

Other arm done, he can feel himself growing dizzy. Its much like when he bled to his death before being brought to this dream by the god of Sleep. It unsettles him, to be so close to that feeling again, knowing his bloodstream was emptying on purpose this time somehow making it... worse.

"That is all I can ask for. I need him alive, as connected as we are, but I want him happy. I do not understand your human emotions well, but if his soul is singing in joy, then his chances of living rise exponentially. He- Is my First Vessel, and very dear to me."

Humming, the man sinks to his knees before the offering plate, weak knees giving out on him. Through blurring vision, an apple appears on the plate as the tendrils recede. One remains wrapped around his torso to steady him as he sways. "Eat the apple of Eden, taste the divine, and accept me into your soul. When you awaken, you will be at the edge of my domain in your human lands. My first knows of your arrival."

A nod is all he can manage as he reaches forth, picking up the apple and bringing it to his lips. The texture is as any apple should be, but the juice tastes of iron, and when he pulls it away from his mouth, blood spills over onto his hand, his own blood. He continues eating. The taste is wonderful, and no food he can remember tastes anything like it. He can't imagine anything ever will.

This is the taste of the divine, and he wishes nothing more than to bask in the flavor forever, but alas the apple is soon gone, all except for the core which has a strange texture he finds he doesn't care for. It pulses gently as he sets it down and he wonders what exactly it is.

Time is... strange here, even stranger still as blood lingers on his tongue. It flows slowly, like wading through knee-high mud and yet some moments, when his mind is particularly foggy, its like a river, fast, harsh, and unrelenting in its pace.

He finds he cannot remember his name. Cannot remember the faces of his parents. His- mothers? Did he have two mothers? He did, he knows he did. What did they look like? The image of them smiling at him slips from his grasp as he tries desperately to hold on. No, he can't remember. Can't recall any of his childhood friends, or his drumming teacher, he can't remember anything except his cat, and the pain of every failed relationship, be it platonic or romantic. The pain of no one ever acknowledging how much time and effort, blood and tears, went into perfecting his drumming, of- of how deeply he tried, with his entire being,, heart and soul, at everything he's ever done in his life.

Vision darkening, he falls back, the tendrils letting him go with no amount of gentleness. Tears spill from his eyes, but he can't tell if they're from sadness or joy, the mix of emotions swirling inside him like that galaxy he floated in before.

"Rest now, II. When you wake, you must find I and my manor."

Slipping away into sleep, his name, his title, his position, sticks out.

Two. II.

::

When II awakens, who he was before ceased to be. He couldn't remember his name. The faces of his mothers. Of his boss who used to torment him day in and day out. Couldn't remember the face of the man who killed him for his wallet and the $20 bill inside. He remembered the pain, the agony, the fear. II remembered accepting Sleep, what they offered to him. Fame, recognition for just how much of himself he puts into everything he does.

A meow reaches him, a weight on his chest becoming apparent as his mind fully wakes up. Blinking his blue eyes open, II comes face to face with his fluffy black cat Elvira. She sits on his chest, her own face up close to his. Meowing again, she rubs her head against his chin and he holds her close as he sits up. On one side of him is a vast forest, and on the other a small, beat up old car sits, behind it a road leading off into a clearer space. The sun is low in the sky, the sunset casting brilliant colors of red, orange, and pink over the canopies above him.

A mask sits in his lap, a simple black cloth material with a strange symbol, Sleep's he realizes, printed in white over the face. Slipping it on with some difficulty while still holding Elvira, something settles in his chest. The mask feels right, like he was meant to wear it.

There is a pull in the direction of the forest, leading him off into the distance. So, II begins walking after a small glance back at the desolate car. The trees are easy enough to navigate through, but roots catch his feet every few minutes or so. At some point it was simply safer to let Elvira walk beside him rather than hold her in case he falls.

Silence surrounds him as he walks, except for the quiet sound of crunching underbrush below foot. He walks for what feels like hours, mind and body both lagging from the strain of accepting his new god, just barely managing not to fall. The light from the sun fades completely at some point, but II continues on into the darkness, following that tether in his chest. He stumbles more often, sticking closer to trees to try and balance himself. A stray root catches his foot and he goes tumbling over with a cry. Elvira meows from somewhere beside him and II closes his eyes and tries to brace for impact with his arms.

There is a cold hand on his arm, keeping him steady and helping him to his feet. Despite the unexpected touch, II's body does not jerk away in fear, nor does his mind devolve into terror. It should have, given the circumstances, but his body and mind seem to be in agreement with his very soul that sings at the touch.

The hand helps him right himself, grip strong but so gentle that II automatically leans into it just slightly. "I can see in the dark, do not fret. Come, I will lead you back to the manor."

The voice belonging to the hand is soft and soothing, calming whatever nerves had been building up in the silence. "I'm Sleep's first, my name is Vessel. Do you have a name yet?"

There is a quiet uncertainty, a hesitant fear in the other man's voice and II finds he wants to comfort him. Vessel does not need to be wary of him, and II is desperate for the man to know that.

"I've decided on II, like the number in roman numerals. This is my cat Elvira. Sleep said you would know of my arrival but I thought I was supposed to find the manor myself." II gestures lightly at himself, then around him for emphasis.

"I couldn't let you traverse this forest alone in the dark. I did, when I arrived, and it isn't pleasant alone. I walked in circles for hours, fell over every root there was, I think, before I finally found my way, though the pull in my chest tried to guide me. The walk here was much shorter this time." Vessel is quiet still, like he's afraid of being too loud, of disturbing the air around him with his voice.

His steps are quiet too, silent even, II can't even hear him or his breathing. The only indicator that the man is there at all is the gentle, guiding touch on his bicep. II should be afraid, but he isn't. He cannot even see the man, doesn't even know what he looks like. Was he given a mask like II's?

"I hope my cat doesn't bother- Oh shit, is she still following us? I can't see her." II panics, jerking his head around and squinting very hard at the ground like he'll be able to see in the dark suddenly.

"Calm down, its alright. I'm holding her in my other arm right now. A sweet thing isn't she? Not tried to bite or scratch me once."

Vessel's soothing tone, when he's actually trying to soothe, works wonders alongside his words. II laughs, calmer now, the loud sound startling Vessel into jerking back but keeping his hand steady, "Lucky you. Her name is Elvira. She bit me when I first rescued her. People don't treat black cats well, you know? Especially around Halloween. She was scared, some kids were being mean to her so I brought her home. Had to get a bunch of nasty shots to make sure I didn't get rabies. She's only a few years old."

II realizes he's rambling to this man he just met, about his cat no less. "Sorry, you probably don't care."

Vessel smiles, enjoying how the worry crinkled the edges of II's pretty blue eyes as the man realizes just how much he was talking Vessel's ears off, his hands dropping from where they were moving with his words. It's cute.

"No, it's alright. I've never had a pet. She's cute." Vessel laughs, more of a huff of air than an actual laugh, but it tilts the edges of II's lips up involuntarily anyway.

II wonders if he smiled while he did so, if his shoulders shook with the action.

"She can stay then? Sleep said it was alright." II smiles fully now, unsure.

It ends a little lopsided, endearingly enough, Vessel notices.

"Oh, yes, it's perfectly fine. We'll need to get her things though. The manor is empty. Most of the furniture was rotted or broken entirely so I threw it away. I'm sorry to say there is no bed for you or her to sleep on." Vessel sounds genuinely sorry, nervous even, like II was going to reprimand him for something that wasn't his fault.

"That's alright. This way I'll get to choose my own things! Do you have money to buy anything? I-"

II cringes, the memories of his death coming back full force, one of the only things he remembers from Before. Gasping out, II holds his chest with his free hand at the phantom pain of the knife searing into his flesh. Vessel startles, the arm on II's bicep going down to hold his hand gently out of instinct.

"Are you alright?" Vessel asks, desperate to know if II was okay despite just having met him.

Something within each of them was drawn to the other, small and unnoticeable as it was.

"I- I'm fine." II gasps out, shuddering violently, eyes going half-lidded as his vision is clouded with the sky he stared up at as he died, lost in the fear he felt,, the way the blood forced its way up his throat, burning like acid-

Vessel's hand in his brings him comfort, so he holds it tighter, hoping the other man doesn't mind. It helps ground him to the moment, walking through this silent forest with the first vessel of a God he knows next to nothing about. Vessel pauses, looking at their joined hands and up to where he knows his pulse should beat. Panic flares up like a flame in his chest, and Vessel rubs soothing circles into the palm of II's hand with his thumb to ignore it, push it down and away. II won't notice, lost as he is in his own mind, so it should be fine, Vessel assures himself desperately.

"I'm sorry." II starts as they continue walking as his shaking calms down, "I just remembered how I died... I was robbed, stabbed in the chest a couple times, I think."

Vessel strains to hear the other man as his voice goes down to a whisper, sad, with a hint of bitterness. "You never need to apologize to me for something like that. Its only natural to be haunted by your death."

II couldn't see it, but Vessel has averted his gaze, guilty eyes staring forlornly down at the fluffy cat he was holding. Nodding, assuming Vessel could see him, "How did-"

"I bled out." Vessel states, a certain unfeeling numbness to his voice that shocks II into silence.

The thumb still rubbing slow, gentle circles into his palm stills, righting itself in a proper hold, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." II hurries to apologize, realizing that he shouldn't have asked.

"It's alright. I've had time to process and come to terms with it." Vessel lies, the guilt building up with every word.

Lying to II seems wrong, and Vessel hates that the words fell from his lips so easily. Though, Vessel supposes it isn't really a lie. Vessel has come to terms with his death, come to terms with his failure at ending his own life. This admittance lightens the guilt a bit, and Vessel breathes a little easier knowing he didn't truly lie to II.

When they reach the manor, the outside vines reach for Vessel as he passes over the threshold of the porch, the small area covered with the plants. II cannot see them, but he does feel them brush over his arm, can just barely see the outline of the manor looming above him. He's so tired, so quickly trusting of Vessel, that he doesn't even bother asking if they've arrived.

Vessel turns on the lights in the entrance hall, ducking his head momentarily as it burns his eyes, disguising it as setting down Elvira, and when he looks up, they get their first good look at each other.

Vessel's mask is startling upon first glance, but his eyes, pupiless blood red surrounded by pitch black sclera are beautiful though the eye holes are differing shapes and altogether difficult to see into. He's wearing a pair of plain black jeans with a black hoodie, the band name on it unfamiliar to II. His hair, a dark mess sitting wildly upon his head, curls around the edges of the mask and the underside of his jaw.

Vessel, taking II in, finally lets go of his hand, which he realizes is black as night. Both he and II miss the touch, neither really understanding why. II's mask sits perfectly over his nose, a piercing just barely visible under the cloth in his right nostril. The blue of his eyes are even more striking in the light. He is also much shorter than Vessel, a good few inches of height between them. His clothes are simple a t-shirt that shows off the tattoos on his arms and plain dark wash jeans, his shoes are chunky black boots and he has a multitude of silver chained necklaces of differing lengths dangling from around his neck.

They both look around the entrance hall awkwardly, suddenly realizing that they both had been staring intently at each other. Vessel decides to show II around the manor, and let him pick a room, all while explaining that they only have about twenty-one hours to get everything set up for II's transformation. Vessel warns him it will hurt greatly, but neither could've truly prepared for it.

All of the rooms are pretty bare, but II doesn't mind, Vessel explaining again but in further detail how the house had been empty of anything but dust, debris, and barely standing furniture. He listens intently as the first goes on to explain that the only lucky break they had was that each room had in-tact bed frames, a blessing from Sleep most likely.

Vessel hates how much he's speaking, sure in his belief that every word is grating on II's ears. The other man must be so annoyed with him by now. Once Vessel is done getting him settled in, he'll have to be as silent as the dead so as not to bother the Second.

II ends up picking the room closest to the upstairs sitting room, after only a brief glance into it. Elvira sits perched on the small windowsill, staring at the two men standing in the doorway. She meows once before hopping down to rub against II's leg and running off somewhere else. II laughs, and Vessel hangs on to the sound, the silence of the house dispersing with another person's presence.

The altar room is a quick affair, barren as it is. II reaches out to touch the sigil on the wall, and Vessel, leaning silently against the doorframe, shudders violently as the sensation slams into his own chest like a freight train. It wasn't painful, just- greatly uncomfortable.

Turning back around to look at the first, II manages to miss Vessel pulling himself together quickly as he gestures at the mostly bare table, "We'll need to get more candles and things for offerings. Incense maybe?"

"Yes, I figured we could get some things at the store. We should probably leave soon if we want to make it before the furniture store closes. I want to give you time to settle in before your transformation starts tomorrow." Vessel explains, eager to get II's curious eyes away from the sigil his heartbeat resides in, and II nods easily enough, understanding.

"Sure. We can head out now. I'm already feeling better than before, though I do have a headache coming on, I think." II smiles, but it falls into more of a grimace towards the end of his words.

Vessel winces, understanding entirely. The migraine he suffered before and during his transformation was the worst he had ever experienced, he is sure. He can imagine very well what II must be feeling.

With Vessel leading through the darkness with utter surety in the destination and II no longer as weak limbed as before, the walk back to Vessel's car is far quicker, merely an hour instead of the two or three it took the first time. They held hands again, for II's benefit, of course. Vessel wouldn't want the other man to stumble and twist an ankle.

It's as they get to the furniture store a while later that Vessel's anxiety rises to the surface whereas it had once been simmering just under his skin, growing steadily in strength with every mile passed.

Parking the car about halfway through the parking lot, Vessel shuts the car off and lets II begin to get out. The other man pauses, realizing Vessel wasn't coming with him.

"Are you not coming?" II asks.

Shaking his head almost rabidly,

"I can't go into a store like this. I can't, I'm sorry." Vessel pleads, eyes wide, anxiety swirling in his gut, just the thought of getting out of the car nearly too much to handle.

"Is it your eyes? The mask?" II inquires, worried now as Vessel's shaking becomes clear to him, white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel not hiding the tremor in his whole body.

Nodding, Vessel agrees, though to which one II isn't sure, so he assumes it is both. "Stores- I get- I couldn't go in by myself. Before you arrived. Sleep asked me to do all of this before you got here, but I- Fuck, fuck." Vessel's voice breaks off into a whisper, guilt eating away at his mind for even admitting this much.

II must think him pathetic, useless. All of his past partners did, his parents, and they all made sure he knew quite well. But Vessel couldn't help the way social situations made him feel like the ground was about to crumble away beneath his feet, like the entire world's eyes were on him at every moment, like everyone was laughing at him just for existing. He's fucking worthless. He can't even go into a fucking store by himself, and clearly not even with another person who is dressed almost as unusual as himself.

II, who has remained silent up until this point, trying to figure out a way to comfort Vessel, to reassure him, is kept from saying anything just yet when Vessel speaks again, and his voice is so quiet, so desperate, II's heart clenches in his chest, "Please, just- just get whatever you want. I, I can help load it on the car when you're done, I promise. I'm sorry."

"But don't you need a mattress too?"

Vessel can't bring his eyes to meet II's own, focusing instead on his hands before him. "I don't need sleep, not like you do. Sleep said so."

Frowning, putting that aside for later thought, II counters, "You still need rest Vessel, whether you sleep or not. The bed doesn't have to be just for sleeping. It's not like we have anywhere to sit right now, you need a proper bed."

Vessel winces, recognizing II's point and agreeing silently but unwilling, unable to say anything, his mouth filling with cotton. "I'll be keeping my mask on, and if anyone asks or says anything, I can answer for us. We'll say we're off to a costume party or something."

"Okay." Vessel agrees quietly, slipping the keys and card into his pocket before slowly opening up the driver door and getting out.

II walks over to his side and grabs his hand, tilting his head and gesturing with it in silent question. Nodding, Vessel licks his dry lips, each step forward feeling like a death march. Vessel woukd prefer killing himself again, he thinks, instead of being around complete strangers out in public. Especially like this.

The fluorescent lights inside the store immediately burn his eyes and Vessel cringes back, ducking his head and staring resolutely at the floor. Leading them forward, II asks quietly if he's alright. Vessel murmurs his affirmative, eyes clenched shut as a headache begins to ache right behind them.

His hands have gone numb and Vessel is glad for II holding one of them, keeping some sort of feeling in the appendage. He wonders if the other man is going to say anything about the full-body tremble he can surely feel, wonders if he'll take his hand back, shake him off, or tell him to 'stop that fucking shaking or else.' It wouldn't be new to Vessel.

II let's go of his hand only once the entire time to try out a mattress, gesturing with the other as a saleswoman comes up to them asking if they need any help. When he asks what Vessel would prefer, Vessel spirals. II's letting him choose?

II, noticing the accelerated, short breaths Vessel is taking, pulls them over to one of the dimmer sections of the store, though its hardly any darker. "Breathe, Vessel, its alright. Do you want me to just get the one I picked for both of us? I'm sorry, I didn't think your anxiety was this bad. I'd never have asked you to come in if I'd known. I thought it was just from what we were wearing, but clearly its not. I'm sorry."

II, desperately trying to comfort Vessel, takes both hands now and rubs over his palms gently, trying to soothe, to help. Vessel forces himself to nod, a few too many times, but II doesn't mind. "I'll be right back so we can get out of here. How am I paying?"

Vessel begins shaking his head back and forth as II lets go of his hands. On instinct, Vessel grabs the hem of II's shirt but jerks back away just as quickly, holding his arms close to his stomach in a protective manner. "I'm sorry. I'll go with you, just don't leave."

II's heart shatters at the desperation in Vessel's voice, how small he looks even as he towers over II. The man can see that the first Vessel is trying his best to take up as little space as possible, hunched over into himself. Glancing around, II realizes some of the workers are staring though they look away quickly when II catches them. "I won't leave, I promise. Let's get this done quickly, alright? Then we can leave."

Vessel hands over the credit card Sleep gave him, and when II takes it, Vessel looks back down to the floor, hands held close, keeping a close eye on II's boots to follow him. When the second vessel doesn't move after a moment, Vessel looks up. The corners of II's eyes are crinkled with the smile hidden mostly by his cloth mask, a hand held out in offering. Hesitantly, Vessel reaches out and takes it, marveling at the gesture despite it becoming somewhat familiar at this point.

While II talks to the saleswoman again and gets everything handled, Vessel is lost in his head, focusing on righting his breathing, on the feel of II's hand in his own, on the faint presence of Sleep in the back of his mind. Slowly, the numbness in his hands that had spread up his arms fades, his trembling slowing before stopping completely.

As the workers go to bring out the mattresses to the front of the store, II looks back at Vessel in concern. The other man has been silent, but II is glad his trembling has stopped and he's seemed to calm down. "Are you okay now?" II keeps his voice low, gentle and calm,

Vessel nods, still not meeting II's eyes and he frowns, worried. There's no way II can expect Vessel to go grocery shopping with him. "I'm sorry I made a scene."

"Oh, Vessel, you didn't make a scene. Its alright, you can't help when you have a panic attack. Its not your fault." II reassures, regretfully looking away when the workers bring out the mattresses.

"There's bungee chords in the back. We can tie down the mattresses that way." Vessel offers, rubbing over his wrist scarring and newer cuts absent-mindedly, the urge to add more growing.

They get out the bungee chords and attach the mattresses to the top of the car, it weighs it down quite a bit but thankfully not enough they can't drive anywhere. Vessel feels some of his deeper cuts reopen, but doesn't let his alarm show. He's wearing his hoodie, it'll be okay.

"We need to go to the grocery store still. I'll drive since I don't think you're in a good state to do do. My headache isn't too bad." II states when they're finished.

Vessel apologizes quickly, voice weak as he hands over the keys without question. He feels like utter shit. This trip was to get things for II so he'd have all he needed when he undergoes the transformation into a true vessel tomorrow. Its turned into him just comforting useless Vessel.

"Vessel, you don't have to keep apologizing to me for things like this. Its not your fault, and really, none of this bothers me."

Vessel nods, closing his eyes against II's burning gaze, fearing the man can tell that he is only agreeing to drop the issue. They get in the car and sit in silence while II drives further into town looking for a store that sells both food and other things. He explains that they may as well get sheets and pillows and groceries all in one go, do they can get back home faster. Vessel marvels at the way II can already call the manor home. Vessel isn't sure he's ever really had a home. A house, a place to sleep, sure, but a home? Never.

Vessel expects II to have him go into the store with him again, but is surprised when he declines and II only smiles and asks him if there was anything he wanted. "Thats alright, I'll pick out some new things for us to try then. I'll be right back."

Only when Vessel is sure II is gone does he let himself cry. Silent sobs shake his shoulders, small breaths are all he can manage and Vessel really just wants to hurt, but he refrains. He can wait until they get back to the house and get II's things set up. He can, he has to. Vessel doesnt even want to think about what II would say if he saw Vessel ripping into his own skin with his nails.

'I had a fucking panic attack after going into a furniture store! A furniture store!' Vessel thinks hysterically to himself, loathing beating away at his brain as his sharp nails dig into his thighs through his jeans. His masked forehead rests against the dash while he waits for II to come out. He feels terrible, like a burden. Worthless, no, even less than that. II is going to leave, without a doubt. If he doesn't, then surely he will ask Sleep to rid themselves of his presence. Vessel isn't that important, his God could easily find other vessels.

Sniffling, Vessel lifts his mask to wipe away tears, and sits in silence until II returns, around an hour later. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you wait so long." II says as he opens the drivers side back door, stuffing a multitude of bags inside that he seemingly carried out by himself.

"You're fine, did you get what all you wanted and needed?" Vessel asks, and hopes II doesn't notice about the voice crack.

"Yeah! Bedsheets, a few blankets, a first aid kid, a few shirts for me and hopefully a couple that'll fit you, and some other essentials like underwear and shit. Oh, and snacks, to go with all the healthy food you just bought us." II smiles.

"The card's from Sleep actually. Didn't have any of my own money. Money is inconsequential to Gods, so they just made that card for us to use."

"Ah, well, I think we just singlehandedly fucked up the economy with illegal, undocumented money." II laughs, and Vessel smiles at the sound, though it falls when II winces and holds a hand to his temple.

"I'll drive back, II, you rest. I'm sorry you had to do all this. I should be able to do these things."

"Alright, that's probably for the best. Are you feeling better now?" II asks, and his pretty blue eyes are so hopeful Vessel finds himself nodding in affirmation despite not feeling much better at all.

The corners of II's eyes crinkle even further, causing his eyes to squint like he can't quite see. It really is endearing, and Vessel finds himself smiling back though he knows II can't see it. They switch places in the car, and II goes through his cd's before picking a Whitney Houston album. 'I Wanna Dance With Somebody' starts playing over his radio, and Vessel's lip quirks up as II starts quietly humming along, tapping along with both his feet and hands to the drums, mimicking all the hand movements with ease, as though drumsticks were in his hands at that moment.

"Do you drum?" Vessel asks once the song is over.

Nodding as he answers, II replies. "Yes, I play the drums. Its one of the reasons Sleep chose me. Do you play anything?"

A blush rises to Vessel's cheeks, but he answers truthfully. "I sing, play guitar, bass, and piano."

"I can see why Sleep chose you then, if our method of worship is to be music. You must be talented." II smiles lightheartedly.

"Just a hardworker is all."

Vessel insists on carrying some of the groceries when they get back to the forest where the manor resides. II tries to protest, saying he has everything handled, but Vessel manages to get at least four bags while II takes the rest. II pouts, the jut of his lip barely visible under the mask, but it causes Vessel to laugh again, the smalle shaking of his shoulders and the near-silent huffs of laughter exactly what II was aiming for.

The walk back to the manor is shorter, a little bit more of the ice broken between them. II talks more than Vessel, but neither mind when silence strikes. When the manor comes into view, a single light left on in the entrance hall the only indicator II can see, he sighs in relief. Over time, his headache has grown increasingly worse. He could not set down the grocery bags fast enough.

"Just a bit more II, just gotta get your mattress back here."

"Okay." II's voice is quieter now, and Vessel is quickly growing worried.

He knows his God said they had twenty four hours, but they're already down to eighteen hours left and with every passing second, II looks a little bit worse. The trip back to the car for II's mattress is easy enough, its managing to get it back to the manor while II feels worse and worse that makes it difficult. By the time they manage it, II has to sit down by the footboard of his bed, back against the wall with his head tucked between his knees. Vessel turns the lights off in the house and begins making the other man's bed with whatever sheets he finds first. They're not washed but the package was completely unopened so it'll have to do.

Fluffing up a pillow or two, Vessel finishes with the bed and crouches before II. The second vessel doesn't lift his head, doesn't even move. "Hurts." He murmurs, and Vessel barely hears it.

"I know." Vessels voice is low, aimed to soothe, "Can I pick you up?"

II shakes his head, insisting he can get up to his bed himself, but when he gets to his feet, he sways, holding his palms to his eyes as the movement causes a sharp stab of pain that continues even after he manages to still. Vessel half leads, half carries II to bed and tucks him in under the covers. II is nearly asleep by then, head aching something fierce, but still, he reaches out blindly for Vessel, grabbing his hoodie hem as the man turns to leave. "Thank you. I'll see you in the morning?"

Vessel nods before realizing II can't see him before verbally responding. II falls asleep with a small, barely visible smile and Vessel sighs as he shuts the door behind himself.

That done, Vessel goes to put groceries away and sort through whatever else II got. Going through the shirts and figuring out which is likely his, putting the first aid kit in the downstairs bathroom, groceries in the cleaned out fridge. Its nice that Sleep at least made sure there was running water and electricity. It's quick work, and Vessel finds the silence in the absence of II to feel... well, wrong. So he hums, so quiet it barely stirs the air around him, but it helps all the same. Making his way through the house in search of II's cat to feed her, Vessel eventually finds her in the large empty room on the ground floor. Though, its no longer empty.

To one side of the room sits a beautiful but old grand piano, a light wooden color with a matching bench. To the other side of the room is a drumkit complete with a pair of drumsticks.

"Thank you, my God."

'Enjoy your gift, my vessel.' His Gods voice whispers in his mind before they are gone from his head, though their presence lingers as it usually does.

Sitting down at the piano, Vessel lets a single finger press the G note key, but it was so discordant after it rang through the room, Vessel couldn't help but wince. Vessel looks around the room and finds a tuning kit pretty easily, thanking Sleep once more, and gets to work. Its hours of work, and the sun is rising by the time he's done. He sits to play for maybe an hour or so before a knock on the doorframe causes him to slam a few keys all at once.

When Vessel turns, II is leaning on the doorframe holding his head with one hand, a pained smile beneath the mask. He stands right away, making it over to the other man in record time, and begins leading him back upstairs. "I'll make you something to eat, you just lay down."

II doesn't protest about all the care Vessel is showing, visibly in pain. The hours leading down to the beginning of II's transformation are long and drawn out, feeling like a timer ticking down to a bomb setting off. Vessel had warned II that the process would hurt, but he didn't truly realize how much it would affect him leading up to it. Vessel remembered being in pain before his as well, but its worse seeing II going through the same thing and being unable to do anything about it.

Thankfully, he's in bed when the transformation begins, Elvira laying by his feet. Vessel is with him, holding his hand and rubbing soothing circles into his palm worriedly. II is grateful, so grateful. Vessel could have just left him be in wait for the process to begin, but he's been fretting silently, an aura of worry stemming off his body so potently II could almost see it. II would try to reassure him if he could manage to speak past the pain, past the fire roaring through his blood, pounding away at his brain.

II is aware of everything, every change being made to his body and soul. He can feel something crawling over his itching, burning eyes, feel the way his Gods essence slowly takes over his lifeblood, transforming it into something more. Every atom is screaming as his soul changes to the whims of his God. He has no idea how much time has passed, it feels like its stretched out infinitely and yet mere seconds at the same time. It's torture. If II thought accepting his new God was painful, this is light-years worse. Nothing he has felt, in this life or the next, will ever compare to the sheer agony this process is wreaking upon his mind, body, and soul.

The only constant aside from the pain, is Vessel's touch, the calm of his voice. Vessel is so gentle, so apologetic as he removes the mask from II's head. He hums near silently as he wipes at II's sweaty forehead after putting him back on his back so he doesn't choke on the sludge that drips from his lips, its taste foul.

The only passing of time II is aware of is the position of the sun as it passes by his room. Vessel never turns the light on, so II relies on the bright rays, thankful the too-thin curtains have been pulled shut. It must've been at least a week now, in constant agony. II wants it to end, he needs it to stop, please Sleep, make it stop.

"Sleep, I don't understand why even asleep, he looks so pained. Is something wrong with his transformation?" Vessel asks, brow furrowed beneath his mask.

II wants to ask Sleep the same. Something has to be wrong for the process to feel like this. The voice of his God is far too loud as it echoes in the room, bringing nothing but more pain as it mingles with II's migraine.

"Nothing is wrong, my vessel. This was how your body reacted as well. The second vessel rests, but he is not asleep. You handled your transformation beautifully while awake, so I did the same to the second."

Vessel breathes out a shaky sigh of disbelieving horror, unaware of how II, conscious as he is while his body is still, knows he would do the same.

"Will it take as long as mine?" Vessel asks finally, after minutes in silence, through trembling lips, and II watches, unable to move and too in pain to really process at the time, as Vessel lifts his mask to wipe golden tears.

Golden tears. Vessel has tears of liquid gold, striking against the pale skin of his jaw and the blush pink of his lips, staining the other man's hands and clothes as he wipes them off on his jeans.

This isn't right. Vessel could easily justify letting himself suffer, he was used to pain. It's been a constant his entire life. But this man before him didn't deserve this, sleep should be his sanctuary during this process. Why won't his God just let II sleep? There has to be something Vessel can do- wait. Vessel makes a decision and calms his mind as much as he is able, needing to concentrate. There's a thin thread of something niggling at the back of his mind that's been there ever since his transformation. Reaching out a hand and laying it on II's sweaty forehead, the creases from pain ease under his touch. If Vessel could just- yes, just like that. Connect with II's consciousness and force him to sleep, properly sleep, instead of whatever this is that Sleep has put him under. There's an ache in his brows that wasn't there before, but he ignores it after chalking it up to the beginnings of a headache.

II's dry eyes move, eyelids shuttering before falling shut. Pain spikes through his head and Vessel winces, but when he unscrews his eyes from being shut, II has calmed. His forehead no longer creases in pain, his breathing just that small bit calmer. Vessel is glad. So glad.

Vessel lets himself rest, curling up at II's side, careful not to touch, while the other finally, finally sleeps. His mask and II's sits between them, and Vessel lets himself sob into one hand while the other holds II's. Fuck, he finally feels worth something. Even as his brow aches and the room spins and nausea rocks in his gut, Vessel keeps himself silent, something he does well. His shoulders shake minutely, and he sobs, but no sound leaves his lips but the barest hint of harsh breathing. When he is calm, Vessel thinks he may go write a song. But right now, he is so tired, and all he wants is to sleep but he physically can't. His body aches, and a headache pounds behind his eyes, a chill sweeping through his limbs.

Within hours, II is awake again, and Vessel can feel it. In the back of his mind, its like a light switch has turned on and that fuzzy bit of something comes into focus and then there is pain. Such agony that Vessel shoots up and back, knocking over both himself and the piano bench he had been sitting on. In seconds, he is up the stairs and in II's room, at his side, knowing without a doubt that it is his presence Vessel is feeling. With no small amount of effort, Vessel forces him back to sleep and breathes a sigh of relief at the peace that settles in II's mind, even as the headache that had finally went away begins to creep up on him again.

"Sleep, what's happened? Why can I- Why can I feel II's presence and his emotions? Its strange, and feels wrong, like- like an invasion of his privacy."

"I have bonded you to the Second in mind and soul. I thought you would like to be able to navigate your human emotions better if you could feel each others. Do you not like my gift?"

"N-no, its not th-" Vessel blanches at the hurt he can hear in his Gods voice, trying to explain himself quickly to lessen it.

"Fine then. I was to explain how to give you some modicum of privacy, as you humans seem to strive for that in desperation, but you are not thankful for my gift. You will figure it out for yourself."

"No! Wait, I beg of you, please- I'm-"

Sleep's presence is gone before Vessel can finish, "... sorry. Fuck."

Running to the altar room, Vessel takes the ritual knife he keeps by the plate and draws it vertically over his wrist. Blood spills onto the plate almost immediately, and whether Sleep makes their presence known or not, Vessel needs them to understand.

"I am thankful for your gift. I- I just- II doesn't need to be privy to how fucked up I am. He doesn't deserve to and... I'm scared. Of what he will think of me. This is- This was a very sudden gift, and you've already given me more than I deserve."

Sleep lets their presence be known, voice no longer as hurt as Vessel's blood continues to drip down his arm and splash onto the plate. It is faint, but Vessel is relieved they have come back at all.

"I have told you, my dearest vessel, that you are deserving of everything. I will not take back my gift, and in time, the other vessels will be bonded with you and the second in the same way. That is all I will say on the matter, now leave me to rest. I- I have overextended my powers to give you these things. When the time is right, I will ask for an offering, one not of your blood, but perhaps of the music you have made."

Vessel crumbles to his knees, clutching his arm to his chest. Affirming his Gods wishes, Sleep leaves him. These- all of these things- II, the piano, this bond, these things are gifts from his God. His God thought well enough of him to give him things without asking for anything more than worship in return, and only when they need it. Vessel couldn't be more grateful, as apprehensive as he is about this bond he and II have been struck with. He supposes he'll just have to figure out how to limit his emotions from traveling over to II's side. It can't be that hard, can it?

II is awake for even shorter periods of time over his transformation as Vessel learns to use this new power with more and more ease. With every use, the ache in his brow grows worse, little by little. Vessel grows adept at closing the door of his mind that leads out into a hall where II's resides. Its strange, to picture a hallways with doors in his own head, so it takes work, but Vessel gets it eventually. With practice, it becomes easier to manage.

In his waking moments, Vessel was there. II felt every careful touch, gentle caress, heard every kind word and encouragement. He heard Vessel cry and sob, out of pain or despair, II isn't sure. He just knows it breaks his heart every time. When he wakes and there is less pain than usual, II is struck with an emotion that he can tell immediately isn't his.

II has never felt such strong self-loathing, even at his worst. There is also this other presence in the back of his mind, much like how Sleep's lurks. Within seconds, that negative emotion is gone and replaced with terrifying calm and Vessel appears at his side. Was- was that Vessel's emotions?

"Its okay, you don't need to be so confused. I'll explain when your transformation is over. Go back to sleep, II." Vessel's hand is cold against II's too-warm forehead and if he could, II would lean into the touch but his body still won't obey him.

Sleep is a welcome thing as the brief reprieve from the pain ends almost as quickly as it started.

Finally, two weeks into his transformation, II wakes for the final time, feeling better than he had in what felt like forever. Vessel is nowhere to be seen, but II can hear the piano, which has been a near constant thing in his moments of consciousness, stop. There is relief in II's chest, even as he sits up and takes in the new state of his body.

His hands have turned the same deep black as Vessel's, up to the middle of his forearm where little tendrils of ink reach up towards his elbows. Instead of his usual nails, longer, sharp nails like claws lay. When II glances at his window, there is no light streaming through, and yet he can see perfectly. His mask lays beside him, but II leaves it off. He needs a damn shower, desperately.

"You're awake, for good this time." Vessel's voice is as relieved as II feels, breathy and hopeful.

II looks up at his doorway where Vessel stands, still as a statue with his arms held close to his stomach, and II realizes he can feel the relief in his mind as well where Vessel's presence has grown stronger.

II smiles at Vessel, and for a moment, Vessel is struck by just how beautiful the other man is. For the first time, Vessel can see his eyes crinkle and the way a single dimple appears, and awe floods the bond for a moment before it quiets to something smaller, less all-encompassing.

"I'm sorry." Vessel starts, then begins to explain about the bond, nervous and apprehensive.

II listens, nodding along, a bit concerned at the calm over the bond when clearly Vessel is not calm at all. Sleep has bonded them, made it so their emotions are apparent to each other when they wish it, and Vessel sounds scared.

"Alright, I'm fine with this."

"Y-You are?"

"Yeah, I've always believed in communicating what I'm feeling anyways. This will just make that easier. I understand if you don't want to do the same, and I'm completely fine with that. I'll just be an open book for you, you won't need to doubt my intentions." II smiles again, and Vessel is struck with the heavy need to cry again.

So little time spent with this man and he's been nicer, more considerate of Vessel, than most anyone ever has in his entire life. It's jarring, and Vessel doesn't know how to act around him, so Vessel decides to do as he would if II weren't so kind, as the safest option.

He'll isolate himself, hide away. Hide his emotions, his pain, keep to his room.

Its better this way.

If only II thought the same. If only Vessel didn't silently ache with the want to be loved that he breaks beneath it so easily.

[ariel-seagull-wings]

CINEMA'S GOOD FATHERS

@thealmightyemprex @makingboneboy @themousefromfantasyland @professorlehnsherr-almashy @amalthea9 @princesssarisa @bixiebeet @spengnitzed @inevitablemoment @angelixgutz @softlytowardthesun @tamisdava2 @inevitablemoment @theselfshippingwitch

So, the main reason I am so drawn to fiction is that it presents, not as it is, but a way in which it could be better: rather that being content in reproducing the problems in reality, it imagine:

"Alright, so that is what is wrong with humanity and the world right now. Let's make an effort to imagine how to get rid of the wrongs, and show that happier alternatives can exist."

Case in point: the role of father's in society.

We live in a society that is sexist, so we were acustome to think that all the effort in raising and educating children to become functional adults is exclusively of the mother, while the father's should only make the bare minimum, enjoy only the fun aspects of interacting with the child, or even don't be present in their child's life at all, so we tend to treat father's abandoning their children as a given, rather than act shocked or indignated (like likely most would act if the situation was reversed and the mother was the one doing it).

Sometimes that would even be treated as heroic too: how many times we heard stories of man who go to die fight in wars, while their wives stayed at home, pregnant, with no guarantee that their husband would return alive to meet their children, and heard this situation be treated as a beautiful story, rather than something sad!

In a lot of fiction (movies and TV shows), this backwards kind of tought was usually seen as the norm: people usually went to watch movies and shows waiting for the father to be some deadbeat character who either does the bare minimum or even nothing, sometimes constantly complaining about how having children ruined "their lives", while mother characters have to carry the pressure of being the voice of reason.

And if the father was portrayed as decent and present, that would be received with just a shrug and the comment of: "Whatever, he is just doing his basic obligation."

But actually, going to how started this text, since the role of fiction is to present a world that can be better than what we have, when making an effort, we can actually examples of GOOD fathers, who don't think than being a father is just making the baby and putting his surname on the birth certificate, but actually goes trough the effort of being always present, learning from trials and mistake, doing sacrifices to take care of his children, loving and being proud of their child even if not always agreeing with them and having to deal with family conflicts.

Those characters are GREAT, and should be more praised, so we encourage more man with children to be more like then, instead of comforming in doing the bare minimum and being seen as dumb.

And maybe, they can inspired more writers to create father figures like them, instead of constantly reproducing the Absent or Dumb Dad tropes as a norm.

Here are GOOD examples of father's in film who I want to highlight.

Gepetto from Disney's Pinocchio (1940)

Going back to the year of 1940: the whole movies starts because Gepetto wished for a child. He was poor, and single, and yet this didn't stopped him from creating a little puppet boy and begging for a star to turn the puppet into a living person. The night that the star (the Blue Fairy) concedes the wish to give life to Pinocchio, Gepetto is at first surprised, but fully embraces the now living puppet as his son. In his first day as a parent, Gepetto makes a mistake of sending Pinocchio alone to school, and the puppet boy is manipulated by two strangers to go into more dangerous paths. What Gepetto does? He waits the whole night, without eating, and decides to go in search of his son, even sailing the sea and getting swalowed by a whale on the way!

You can feel his sadness when he thinks that he will never find Pinocchio again, the joy at the moment that the two are reunited, not even letting the weirdness of the donkey tail and ears disconcetrate him, the fear for their lives when they set fire inside Monstro, the grief when his son apparently dies saving his life, and his renewed hope when Pinocchio is ressurected and turned into a flesh and blood boy.

Gepetto longed for a child, and moved heavens, land and sea to make that dream come true. It wasn't easy, yet he never expected to be easy, and he never gave up in frustration. This is what makes him such an inspirational father figure.

Guido Orefice from Life Is Beautiful (1999)

This movie may be unpopular in America, but in Brazil: most of us love it! I atribute this to the fact that in Brazil, humour historically was a very important way to cope with misery and opression, so we indentified with the lenghts in which the italian jewish man Guido Orefice used his sense of humour to protect his son when the two were turned prisoners of the Concentration Camps: deep down, Guido knows that he will likely die. He is not a fool who thinks that all is alright, and soon it will be like nothing happened. But he doesn't want to sucumb to despair: he wants to fight for his son to live, and his way to do so is making sure that little Giosue believes that they are in a game of imagination. All the time he hides the little boy from guards, makes sure that he has enough to eat, keeps him close, and finds way to comunicate with Dora, his wife and Giosue's mother, to encourage her to also fight to continue alive. When he is caught by a nazi soldier, searching for his wife disguised as a woman, the last moment we see Guido alive, is him smiling and winking at a hidden Giosue: he is walking to his death, happy, because he knows his son is safe and will be free!

Guido Orefice teaches us a lesson that there are more ways that father's can sacrifice themselves for their children, while still being present and participant in their lives.

Nurullah from The Breadwinner (2018)

"When I was young, Parvana, I knew what peace felt like, here in the city. Children went to school, women went to university. All day empires forgot about us, for a while at least."

A wise, well-learned former schoolteacher, who lost his leg in the Soviet-Afgan war, and whose young son Suleiman died when mistaking a bomb by a toy, Nurullah struggles to make ends meet for his family. He becomes a peddler, selling his family’s non-essential belongings and valuables (most notably a dress that his daughter Parvana never wore) in the street in order to bring food to the table. Despite of this, he maintains a cheerful outlook on life and works to pass down his knowledge to his children, to whom he teaches the history of their country in the form of stories.

After his arrest by the Taliban, his daughter Parvana takes up the mantle of breadwiner under the disguise of a boy named Otesh, and tells stories like Nurullah does to keep everyone's spirits up.

The climax of the film is when Parvana goes to the place where Nurullah is imprisoned, where a shooting is happening, to rescue him.

Nurullah can be astute, tricking a Taliban soldier who was harasshing Parvana to think that she is already engaged to another fiancee. But in reality, he wants his daughter to have a childhood, to play with other children and go to school, and hopes that someday she will graduate, have a profession, and know a world of peace. The only reason he becomes absent is due to being unfairly imprisoned, but when he has the chance to choose, he is always there for his family.

Ebi from Persepolis (2007)

Based on the real life father of cartoonist and film director Marjane Satrapi, Ebi at first starts as someone who is underestimated by his young daughter.

The family lives trough the political turmoil of Iran between the 1970s and 90s, and Marjane at first sees other people's fathers and uncle as strong figures because they directly dealt with persecution, imprisonment, torture and death.

As the years pass, and Marjane sees the ways both Ebi and her mother Tadji find to try helping people more directly involved in activism, while still working to keep a sense of estability for the family, she comes to understand that her father is one of the strongest people she will ever know.

While all this happens, Ebi doesn't forgets his humanity and vulnerability: he encourages his daughter to be resilient when he and Tadji sent her to take refuge in Austria, so she can survive the war between Iran and Iraq, while also crying to be separated from her.

He could have flaws, like a bit of pride, but they never overcome Ebi's love for his daughter, and his convictions for what is right.

Goofy from the Goof Troop franchise (1992-2002)

"There are times you drive me, shall we say, bananas

And your mind is missin', no offense, a screw (none taken)

Still, whatever mess I land in

Who is always understandin'

Nobody else but you

So your jokes are all, let's face it, prehistoric

And your music sounds like monkeys in a zoo

But when life becomes distressin'

Who will I be SOS-in'

If you're having trouble guessing, here's a clue"

Goofy's name means that he is bumbling, but there is something that makes his bumbling personality standout from your typical bumbling character: usually, bumbling characters are hopeless idiots who don't care for anything or anyone around.

Goofy is the oposite: he cares for others, specially to be a good, present father to his son, Max. He may comit misunderstandings, be a bit impulsive, and his son may find him embarassing, but there is no denial that Goofy never regrets having a son: he really, really LOVES being a father, and will give up anything if it means the chance to share moments with Max.

Maurice from Beauty and the Beast (1991)

Maurice is a bumbling inventor who sometimes has his had on the clouds. But his passion for his work never comes above for his love for his daughter, Belle. He is always supportive of her, just like she is always supportive of him. When she takes his place in the Castle of the Beast, Maurice gets desperate. He runs to the town's tavern to beg for help, but his cries are mocked as madness. This makes him give up? Nope! He goes walking alone trough the woods, facing a snowstorm that makes him ill, determined to rescue Belle!

No wonder Belle is always determined to make everything to save her father's life: we are constantly shown that Maurice values her, and will even sacrifice his health for her. Their reunion, when she takes care of his health after finding him passed out in the snow, is one of the most touching moments in film!

Fa Zhou from Mulan (1998)

What I find touching by Fa Zhou is that while he has strong belief in traditions, and has expectations that his daughter follows them, we were soon shown that his love for Mulan could go above those expectations: when Mulan returns from a failed meeting with the matchmaker, she is very embarassed, fearing his disapointment, but rather than reprimanding her, Fa Zhou comforts her, comparing her to a flower that will soon bloon.

There is a conflict between then when Fa Zhou thinks that he should sacrifice himself in a war for the concept honor, yet is clear that their fight is painfull for both of them, and Fa Zhou shows regret for their fight when Mulan takes his place in the Army.

When Mulan returns, bringing victory presents from the War hoping that will honor the family, Fa Zhou doesn't care for honor anymore: he ignores the gifts, and goes to hug Mulan, glad that she returned home alive!

How can't someone not be touched when Fa Zhou that his greatest gifts are having Mulan as his daughter?

Pacha from The Emperour's New Groove (2000)

That man can embrace the world: he is a loving husband to his wife Chicha, a good father to his biological children, the trusted leader of his village, and even assumes the role of being the moral guide to Emperour Kuzco, teaching him to care for other people's well being and calling his selfshiness out!

Basically: he is the father, brother and husband that everyone dreams to have.

Stoick from the How to Train Your Dragon franchise (2010-19)

Stoick's arc is incredible to watch: he starts as someone who is sad, stuborn and emotionally distant, grieving the disappearance of his wife and dealing with the fact that his son Hiccup is not what he expects a viking to be. As the two movies and TV show progresses, we see Stoick grow, learning how to comunicate with his son, understanding his different point of view, and accepting him as an equal partner in leading their village, by working together trough their different methods of solving problems.

A father doesn't need to be perfect, but is important that they become conscious that they are flawed, and can always learn to be better, specially with the help of their children's perspective.

Searcher Clade from Strange World (2022)

The botanist and farmer Searcher was abandoned by his father, the explorer Jaeger Clade, when he was young, because of their differing dreams in life clashing.

Because of that, Searcher goes to great lenghts to be a good father to his son Ethan. However, his trauma of abandoment causes problems in their relationship when Ethan grows interested to become a explorer: Searcher fears that his son will abandon him, like his father did.

As their journey trough the subterranean world of Pando progresses, Searcher learns to accept that while present for his son, he can also comit mistakes as a parent, and apologizes for trying to force Ethan to follow his path as a farmer, like his father once tried to force him to become a explorer.

Searcher tells about his fears, and learns to accept that Ethan will forge a different path for himself, but will never abandon him.

He also finds his father Jaeger, and gets to call out how much he hurt him, before the two can slowly start to reconcile.

Strange World is a great movie about how different generations can both enter in conflict, yet learn from each other's perspectives, and explores both flawed ways of parenting, and alternatives for father's to become better.

Is a shame that the studio Disney didn't promoted the movie, and let it go under most people's radar.

[we-staybhaalin]

I finally finished the game for the first time!!!

First of all, of course Halsin wore Niralei's ass out for like four or five nights in a row. I choose to believe he had her knocked the fuck out every night. The most comfortable sleep she's had in months by that point. Head on the pillow, head empty, (pussy very much not), and she's snoring like a hog!

But anyway!

So the endgame that Niralei is going to follow is that, for a time, her and Halsin will pursue their own interests, but they are very much still romantically and emotionally involved with each other. The Bells and the BG3 crew will disperse to do their own things at various points but Niralei is going to stay in Baldur's Gate for a bit to help rebuild parts of the city.

She's going to start with providing assistance to displaced folks, those that suffered injuries, and she's going to be spending a lot of time trying to find the people who stayed along the journey with her to make sure they're getting taken care of (namely thinking of the tiefling refugees from Elturel).

After a few days, her father, Ohmez, will emerge and start doling out resources to people and thanks to her leading the efforts to save Duke Ravengard's ass, his people are allowed to operate alongside the Guild to make sure folks are getting the help they need. Nettlebane, Colette, Irma, Haluen, Shadowheart, Jaheira, and Minsc remain to provide support as well, although the tieflings are pulled to different parts of the city but ultimately working on Niralei's instructions. After two weeks pass, Matari (Niralei's mother) and Yahiri (Niralei's baby sister) will make it back to Baldur's Gate and start helping to the best of their ability.

After two months of rebuilding, Niralei will have received a letter from Halsin asking her to come to Reithwin. At first, she'll be nervous to leave her family alone but also by this point, Nettie, Irma, Haluen, Colette, and Pasha will have moved on. Nettie went to stay with Gale in Waterdeep (since they ended up together) and Colette decided to go with her since Pasha is in the Hells with their girlfriend and Wyll. (Colette stays in her own tower in Waterdeep -- she's not sharing space with Gale or anyone else.) Shadowheart has gone off with her parents, Irma and Haluen returned to the fold among his people and the clan has started moving in anticipation for summer.

Niralei's mother will convince her to go see Halsin and Niralei will make the journey. Reithwin will be barely two months out from the lifting of the curse but she will see scaffolds, half put up buildings, people shuffling about the streets and laughing children running circles around everyone. Halsin will meet her at the Last Light Inn with a gift in hand--an old book containing a collection of music, all from a time well before hers but also bearing a few of the ones she kept pestering him to teach her during their journey. He'll greet her with a sweeping hug, kisses her when he sets her on her feet, and forgets that four of the children he brought back with him refused to let him take this journey on his own until he hears their rapid-fire questions after their reunion kiss ends.

Niralei will walk with him, hand in hand and book tucked under her arm, just taking in the city's progress. She'll want to help and he lets her for a little while, mostly at her insistence because he intended for her to get some much needed rest while she's out here. She's got connections and even better connections now though so she's going to step up in a pretty big way helping to get resources and deals struck up to help with rebuilding efforts.

Prior to leaving Baldur's Gate, she's been looking into starting a business as well. On the outskirts of the city are estates that have sat abandoned for a while. She's going to purchase one of them and spend time fixing it up. The soil around the land was used to grow acres worth of vineyards on and that's what she's been working on building up prior to visiting Halsin.

She'll spend much of her time bouncing between Baldur's Gate and Reithwin, especially after Yahiri takes off for Waterdeep. Several different ventures will pop up that will have Niralei's hand in it--a bard school started by Alfira and Lakrissa with a generous benefactor donating resources to it, two festhalls by the name of the "Spitfire" and the "Dancing Cups," and an old estate that once sat abandoned now steadily flourishing with gardens and acres upon acres of vines weaving through it with the promise of a luxurious bounty just on the horizon--just among a few.

Reithwin will have a home built specifically chosen for her at a point and she'll see the opportunity to nurture something she had forgotten was a sticking point to so much of her personal journey--hope. She'll argue and haggle with contractors for the best resources for good prices to help with building up the city. Halsin will support her while he wrangles together as much of the artisans and folk that are looking to make this place home. They'll work together to form up a circle of leaders to represent the growing landscape and both of them will take seats on that council to make sure development is processing smoothly.

Every day, when another council meeting concludes, they'll walk home hand in hand chatting about things they never got to talk about during the crisis that brought them together--mundane things, important things about their next steps, and their friends--

And this is only the beginning between the two of them.

[sapphicgren]

 Taka kids + Kabuto headcanons lets go!!!!!!! 

TW: implied abuse, smoking and alcohol use

(bc I need to get the brainworms out before looking at cowboy bebop prompts)

Karin:

 Feels the deepest connection to Orochimaru. She’d always wanted to stick it to the people who’d taken advantage of her powers and he gave her an opportunity to do so. That being said, she gets angry at him the most. Jugo spends a lot of time and effort trying to control his anger and Suigetsu just has a tendency to quieten when something happens, but Karin rages. It actually makes Orochimaru respect her more.

Karin only really accepts that she also likes women during the blank period. Her and Sakura communicate regularly through letters and develop a friendship after Karin helps her give birth. Out of respect for Sasuke, Karin has never acted on these feelings but she has always wondered what if? 

Specializes in sealing and hand-to-hand combat. Her immense chakra makes her a valuable resource and she excels in her work both as a guard and a lab technician.

She claims she can’t remember her parents, but actually has painfully clear memories of them and what they put her through. She has never forgiven them.

Suigetsu:

Frequently thought about going back to the Mist and actually lived there for a few years after the conclusion of the Fourth Great Shinobi War. Chose to return to Orochimaru when he realized that he would never be accepted in his community again. He still works through the same katas that he was taught by Zabuza and Kisame. He wishes that he was able to speak to them and confirm that he was doing the right thing

Cares deeply for Karin and Jugo and is very afraid of losing them. It is the only time when he thinks that he comes close to understanding Orochimaru’s fear of death. He knows that he would do anything to protect them and would make any deal to guarantee their safety. Orochimaru is aware of Suigetsu’s fear.

Feels a really strong connection to Mitsuki because he was the lab technician for the majority of Mitsuki’s growth and considers Mitsuki as much of a family member as the rest of Team Taka.

Has always concealed his romantic feelings for Sasuke and Karin. He values their friendship too much to ever complicate it. He doesn’t have many friends to begin with and having a companion matters more than having a partner.

Jugo

Journals a lot and is frequently nonverbal. He frequently struggles with getting words out and regulating his emotions and finds silence very comforting. During the blank period before the boruto-era, Orochimaru finally started to teach him some meditation techniques to keep him calmer.

Very much on the ace spectrum and still thinks of Kimimaro as his platonic soulmate. He’s very conflicted about whether or not he wishes that Kimimaro was still here. On one hand, the only way he would still be around is if Orochimaru had possessed him. On the other hand, at least a part of him would still be there.

Mitsuki never cried when Jugo held him, much to the chagrin of Suigetsu and Karin. Orochimaru was fascinated by this and disappointed by the fact that he himself frequently struggled to get Mitsuki to settle.

Wishes that he would be allowed to wander the countryside more. Despite his disposition, he actually has a lot of energy and likes to be able to work it off during the day to make sleep easier. He struggles anyway at night and being restless makes it worse

Kabuto:

Would frequently smoke and drink to excess to blend in more on missions. Because of this, he developed a smoking habit and would drink until he blacked out from time to time to sleep through the night. When he achieved sage mode, he largely lost these habits and has tried hard to keep to this in the boruto-era. Occasionally lapses into smoking again.

Became infatuated with Orochimaru while he cared for him after the failed Konoha invasion. Orochimaru was very aware of this and began to play on these feelings to get him to agree to more and more dangerous missions and brutal experiments. While Kabuto was aware of being manipulated, he slowly began to resent him less for it. Even after everything that has happened, he still feels some love for Orochimaru

Also on the ace spectrum and has always wondered about whether or not he was ever actually attracted to Obito or just needed someone who was nearby to fixate upon. Has kept journals on and off since his time in the Sound and unfortunately lost the ones that he kept during that time. He’s always wondered if Orochimaru has them.

It takes a really long time for him and Urushi to become close. He struggled with depression after the conclusion of the Fourth Great Shinobi and experienced mood swings. Getting into the schedule of the orphanage was difficult and they had had years apart. They did love each other and worked hard together, even if they didn’t always understand each other.