#and i know that even though you know she’s terrible

[yurinaa-world]

May i request love and deepspace boys with clingy!reader? Shes shy too!! In public, she'll hold onto his hand or finger and stays quiet but at home she becomes a yapper machine and also likes to plop onto his lap as she talks. Sometimes likes mindlessly squeezing and playing with his meaty bicep too :3

"𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒶 𝓁𝑜𝓉"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, & Sylus x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader who's clingy at home and mindlessly touches him

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling Mistakes

💫𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈: I got sickkk 😫 this isn't my usual quality...I'm sorry (it had to be when it's my first post with the 4 lnds guys...Give me another chance!)

💫𝑅𝒶𝒻𝒶𝓎𝑒𝓁 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝒷𝓎𝓈𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀𝑒𝓇"

He eats it up, watching you act shy in public, grabbing the piece of his shirt or finger whenever you're in public. The second you feel like you're in a comfortable space he watches you unwind, holding onto him so tightly that he’ll just tease you. 

Your pretty self not wanting to let go of him, not even for a glass of water, straddling his lap, and arms wrapped around his neck, hiding in his neck. You're just begging him to tease you so badly. Yet his jaw just drops whenever you unconsciously touch him more. 

While you’re talking about your day, your hands unconsciously go to his chest. aren’t you so handsy? He stops in the middle of your sentence, teasing you so much even bringing up the other times you act shameless with him. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

After such a long day, you can’t help but unload everything you had been feeling the entire day, just going on and on while he puts on his irrelevant commentary—letting gasps and hums, you play with the buttons on his shirt before taking your hands away from his buttons, gently caress his chest while you talk about the climax of your entire day.

“You should have seen her, she was completely soaked and the owner didn’t even say anything even though it was his fault that it happened in the first place!” you chirped—your eyes shining so bright there might be little stars in them—leaning into his face to emphasize your point, he just gasps as if he were there experiencing it. “Oh wow…” he smiles back at you—it looked more like a sly lazy grin plastered on his lips.

“Yeah! And then…”

There you go again switching through topics so fast that he might just start taking notes to understand what you’re talking about. But feel his grin get wider, while your hands shamelessly touch his chest like a creep on the streets.

“If you’re going to shamelessly touch me, at least own up instead of pretending to tell a story.” He grins, snapping you out of your story with an accusation of your character. Your eyes go wide feeling embarrassment pool into your stomach, resulting in your cheeks becoming rosy red as your hands spring back.

“I didn’t mean to touch you like.” you stutter as if he were a cop, while he just enjoys watching you freak out. “You’re such a terrible liar, you’re always touching me, taking advantage of me just because I let you do it once” he sighs dramatically, pinching, and pulling your cheek as if he were an adult lecturing a child—in reality he would be the child…“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Don’t bother, I already know the truth.”

💫𝒵𝒶𝓎𝓃𝑒 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐹𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓇"

He lets you unwind, it’s good for a person to relax after a long day, and you it’s no different—maybe a bit more affection from him while he lets you grasp onto his arms.

Arms wrapped around his one arm while you talk about your day, with a large smile on your face, your body basically sinking into the side of his. He finds it amusing the way you act but what does he expect? You’ve always been like that; it's not like he hates it, he loves it.

He even lets you play with his tie, slowly untying it and fiddling with it as if we’re some kind of toy.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“I didn’t tell you about the craziest thing that happened today.” You realized, switching through topics so fast that he has to put his entire mind onto what you tell him, which he doesn’t mind, he’ll always listen to whatever you have to say. 

Your body against his, sinking into his side with your fingers fiddling with the tie as if it were a toy.

His eyes are loving to them while he listens to your voice with such attentiveness as if he were still taking a midterm exam back while he was a medical student. Just going on and on, telling every part of the story, before stopping to think of another story in the past. “Remember when we were kids!…” there you go again.

He’ll always find it adorable, a small plastered upon his gentle face from your hold speaks for itself.

 “Do you remember that?” 

“Pretty well, I remember another embarrassing thing you used to do, always holding and touching…seems that nothing changed,” he smiles at you, his hand going to withdraw your hand that was fiddled with a tie, his thumb gently rubbing your knuckles.

“Your touch still feels more like a medical exam,” he gently teased you, seeing your mouth agape made him love you more.

“Not that I dislike the feeling, I can’t go a day without it.” He reassures, bringing your hand to his heart, making you feel where his heart is.

“You can Continue speaking, I won’t stop you.”

💫𝒳𝒶𝓋𝒾𝑒𝓇 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒪𝒻 𝐿𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉"

He just loves to listen to your voice, whether it be a childish story about what happened that day or a drama your friend/coworker told you.

Now it’s no different even if he’s dozing off, his head flinching awake while you straddle his lap. It's fine! He’s not tired! You should keep on talking!

Through his half-lidded eyes looking back at you. Your touches might be the thing that brings him towards the border of going to sleep and staying awake, how dangerous you are.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“And then she left her boyfriend for her boss,” you gushed, leaning into his face to exaggerate the story more while he looked back at you with his tired gaze, “can you believe it, Xavier? And you know what her boyfriend did!” you exclaimed, he can’t help but let out a yawn.

“What did he do?” he asked sluggishly, his arms snaking their way up your waist, he might just be going in and out of sleep, every time he slowly closed his eyes and opens to jump in between different stories or different parts of one long story, yet he couldn’t fall asleep, feeling your hands move around his body.

“Xavier, are you awake?” 

You gently poke his cheek, while he just softly groans before he pushes you into his neck, taking the chance to hide himself in the crook of your neck. 

“You can keep talking…”

💫𝒮𝓎𝓁𝓊𝓈 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒪𝒻 𝒪𝓃𝓎𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓊𝓈"

He’s very “attentive” to your little story about what happened in Linkon that day, with his eyes softly staring at you with that signature smirk. 

You have quite the hands, don’t you? He would think you were robbing him blind with your touches. Just feeling your arms on his bicep, his bicep right against your chest, even if he pulls slightly away, you just pull him back.

He can’t help himself but stare at you like, to the point you notice and stop your story under his gaze.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“So that’s what happened…” he hums, listening to your little stories, grasping tightly on his arm while you laugh at your own story, and the way your lips grin ear to ear. 

“Pity I wasn’t there to see that.” He murmured—the little voice in the back of your head tells that it’s probably not the story he's focused on, cocking his head to the side, watching you go off onto another rant. only for you to cut your story short when you locked eyes with him for too long.

“He…”

“Something wrong?” He tilts his eyebrow with a subtle smirk on his lips, watching your lips pressed together in nervousness. “Well…” you mutter, while he just laughs at your expression. 

“Go on, keep on talking, I'd rather not miss what you were telling me, keep grabbing my arm like that as well.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alba's Version) IV

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: The aftermath

*TW: parental neglect, aftermath of suicide*

It takes Alexia nearly a week until she realises you're missing.

You're self-sufficient and independent. You've never needed much and it's not weird for Alexia to not see you for days on end.

You come home from whatever you spend your days doing and go straight to your room.

You make your own meals, she's pretty sure because she never has to make extra. Just enough for a family of three. Two when Olga is away from work.

It's a fleeting thing really, the only way that she realises you've disappeared.

She knocks on your door, intent on finally having that conversation about what you're planning on doing with your future.

There's no answer.

"Now's not the time to sulk, y/n," She calls through the door," If you don't come out then I'm coming in!"

Still silence.

"One! Two!"

Alexia doesn't wait for three, shoving open the door.

She expects to see you on your bed, sulking or whatever it is you do when she's not around.

You're not there though.

Your bed is made. Your clothes are packed away.

There's nothing out of place. Nothing to prove that this room was even really yours apart from a few neat stacks of paper on your desk.

Alexa glances over them, frowning as if they'd give her the answer to where you've gone.

She's been home since last night, the first one up and awake in the house. There's no way you could have snuck past her.

"Jaume!" She yells out," Where's your sister?"

"I don't know! Out with friends or something?"

That's odd.

Alexia can't remember the last time you mentioned a friend to her. To be honest, Alexia can't remember the last time the two of you actually had a conversation.

She shuffles through the papers on your desk.

Yes, she thinks, you must be with friends because there's three tickets to a ballet performance on Saturday.

You must be wanting to take them with you.

It's only when Alexia sits up that night, waiting for you to come home, that she gets the sinking feeling you're not coming back.

She waits for hours until the early hours of the next morning and the sun begins to rise before panic lances through her chest.

You've not come home.

She checks her phone, wondering if she missed a text saying you would stay at a friend's house but there's nothing.

She checks your room, just to see if you've climbed in through the windows but they're locked.

You are nowhere.

She pulls Jaume out of school for the day. She calls Olga to come home from Madrid.

She scours all of the places she thinks you hang out but you're nowhere to be seen.

It's almost like you've never existed in the first place.

The call comes in the evening.

It's Alba.

"I can't talk right now," Alexia says after two missed calls," I'm-"

"I'm sorry," Alba says instead.

"What?"

"I'm sorry." Alba chokes her words out like they're so physically painful she can barely say them. Like she's so numb that even talking is difficult. "I tried but..."

"Alba? What's happened? Listen, I really can't talk right now. I'm-"

"I really did try. They did too but it was already too late."

"Alba, what is going on?"

"We should go to the hospital," Alba says," I'll send you which one."

In the deepest pit of her chest, Alexia already knows what has happened. In some deep, dark part of her, she's known since Alba called. In the worst, most hidden piece of herself, Alexia has known since the beginning.

It's an awful thing for an aunt to see.

It's a terrible thing for a brother to see.

It's even worse for a mother to see.

A picture goes up at the ballet company.

(Alexia didn't even know you joined one).

It's of you smiling, the headhsot that they used on the website, displayed proudly in the main foyer.

'Rest In Peace' sits under it and a little plaque with your name and how long you lived. It states your interests with no hint about trains at all. It talks about your reserved disposition but mentions how you endeared yourself to everyone.

Flowers sit under it, bouquets upon bouquets from the dancers and the staff and audience members who have seen you perform.

(Alexia has never been to a performance once).

Support pours in from people Alexia hasn't spoken to in years. Old coaches. Old teammates. Old friends.

Everyone seems to have a fond memory of you but all Alexia can think about is the last words she said to you.

She can't remember them.

She can't remember what she said or how she felt or what she was doing.

There is a gap in her memory from that moment.

Everyone talks about you so fondly, with such clarity that Alexia can't replicate.

You have gone on a wisp of breeze and Alexia is left trying to catch the impossible.

Her mind circles around herself, trying to work out where this all went wrong.

She loved you. She loved you so much.

Her beautiful baby girl who was a little nervous and a little quiet but beautiful all the same.

The little girl who loved trains and ballet and doing all the super feminine stuff that Alexia had to learn when she was a bit older.

The people around her tell stories of you, like Ingrid talking about how you used to love having her braid your hair back but Alexia sits there numb.

She's been numb since she saw your body in the hospital morgue.

She's been numb since the funeral where you lay in your coffin, perfectly peaceful like you were taking a long sleep.

She's been numb since they all returned to Eli's house for food and drink to celebrate your life.

Alba is not talking to her, has not talked to her outside what is needed since she called.

Alexia hasn't even noticed, too preoccupied with the realisation that she's a mother that just had to bury her daughter.

It was not a disease that took you. It was not a heart attack. It was not a random attack on the street.

It was you.

You made this decision, decided that this world was not worth living in anymore. That you could no longer cope with everything happening around you.

Things that Alexia has no knowledge on and, now, will never have any knowledge on.

You thought that this path was better than returning home.

You thought that everything would be better, more peaceful if you took your life away.

People have been cautious around Alexia, seeing just how close she is to tears.

She didn't cry during the funeral when you were lowered down into the ground with nothing but a neat blouse and a skirt.

Nothing to take with you now that you're gone.

Olga had to pack your things away in your room because Alexia could not force herself to even step through the doorway.

Your things are gone.

You are gone.

And Alexia will never know why.

[kyri45]

This may be an unpopular take lol but it just kinda crossed my mind. I don’t know but I kinda feel like MK doesn’t really have the right to know or ask about that kind of baggage from his bio parents? Like it has to be up to Wukong and Macaque to tell him. (Low key these three if you actually think about it have NOT known each other enough for that kind of baggage to surface up like this)

Like there are stuff about some family members of mine I did not even realize were terrible people until waaaaaaay later into adulthood, after being raised by my parents for a long time. And the only reason I was told about a lot of this is because my mom was stressed the hell out in the moment and blabbed it to me. To this day I am pretty sure she deep down did not want me to know.

I dunno maybe I am way off base here and it’s more a difference in cultures and family dynamics (ie from an Asian household weeeeeee) but the story having to bend over backwards to get to a point where MK is probs about to yell at the two of them just feels… eh to me. Like I said tho, unpopular take lol so I get if peeps will disagree haha

Oh yeah I agree on the fact that he also shouldn't have poked too much durong the series about what happened between them. The thing here is mostly- like the fight and everything is somethimg that is literally in JTTW, and since the book is canon it means that almost everyone who had at least read the book is aware of what happened between them. MK is known for only have read very few parts of the book so. In some way, he would have found out. And if the little guy got to experienced it 4k I guess he kind of neccessitated some extra explaination (even though I'll admit, he could have just read the book more and he wouldn't have such a high view of Wukong without having to go thtough extra trauma but i guess chat likes the angst

[inkdrinkerworld]

Hello again I’m the one addicted to your dealer!remus writing, you have such a good way of writing his character and I love it! Anyways I hope you’re feeling better I’m currently poorly as well and it sucks. If you’re feeling up to it I would love more of your writing. Maybe a dealer!remus who meets fem reader at a ren faire and she’s like a siren or fairy or something? Idk I trust you

Also if you don’t have a 🐡 or 🫧 anon I would love to be one or both of those since I have a feeling you might be seeing more of me 🥰

I hope this is okay! I’ve never been to a ren faire but I’d love to go one day though! Of course you can be both!

“You’re a nymph.” A man in pirate costume says as he helps you climb up the stairs to the stalls.

You’re in a sheer purple skirt that has vines hanging down to your thighs, there’s a slit somewhere that shows off your skin and your green blouse has sleeves that flow down your arms and behind you.

The chains in your waist clink as the crystals hanging on them knock against each other with each step.

“And you’re a pirate,” you take a glance at his eyes and flash him a smile when you notice how red his eyes are. “A very high pirate.”

The pirate man smiles, a silver scar splitting his lip making him look handsome. His sandy brown hair also works with his outfit, making it look like he’s spent years at sea with the sun and salt water to bleach his hair.

“They do like their influences.” He says making you laugh. “What about nymphs?”

You give a demure shrug, “We do live amongst them.” The pirate man’s hand shifts to your shoulder, adjusting some of the leaves and foliage there.

You know in your bones this man is a flirt, especially when he flashes you an easy smile when you look up at him.

“Is this your first ren faire?” You ask you walk ahead of him, smiling when you hear his boots clicking as he follows behind you.

“Second, but my friends seem to have abandoned me.”

You glance over your shoulder, finding the pirate man tucking a roll on behind his ear. You never would have imagined a simple action like that would be so attractive. “I can keep you company for the time being then. Will you drink tap beer?”

When he nods you smile and order two glasses.

“Where are your friends? Or are you a veteran of the ren faire?” You ask as you wait for the beer, leaning on the counter as you look at the man before you.

He has this soft beauty to him and his pirate get up makes it rogue-ish but also there’s flashes of the softness of it all underneath it all.

You smile as the pirate man rushes to pay, and hands you your glass first. “It’s my fifth year, but my friends are about somewhere.” You take a sip of your beer. “To be honest, I snuck away to save myself from being tie breaker to a game of darts.”

Your new friend raises an eyebrow and you spy another scar slicing through the skin there. “What’s so bad about darts?”

Your tone turns bashful and you look up at him through your eyelashes, “I have terrible aim. What’s missing from this outfit is a pair of glasses that irritate my eyes much less than the contacts I’m currently wearing.”

The pirate man falters for a moment your gaze soft yet intense as you look up at him. “I see. What would you rather be doing then?”

You smile, “My favourite parts are the jousting tournaments and the petting zoo. Also spending loads on trinkets.”

The man nods, about to say something in reply when a pair of pirates, one lanky with black hair and one burly rush up to him.

“Remus you can’t just wander off! We’ve been looking for you for ages.”

You laugh at the way the pirate man, Remus, flushes. Pink looks good on him.

He looks back and smiles at you and it’s even more handsome the second time; especially when it seems intimate and shared just between the two of you.

“I was here getting something to drink with the pretty nymph.” He gestures to you and you give his friends a wave and introduce yourself.

Remus tucks away the sound of your name in every nook in his mind. It suits you entirely.

The black haired one smirks and the burly one gives you a dimpled smile hello.

“How chivalrous, did he bore you to death with the fact that he’s about to be jousting and the historical reasons behind it?” The lanky one asked, clearly teasing his friend.

“No he did not, but now I’m even more excited to look at the tournament.” There’s a wicked grin on the black haired boy’s face.

Remus turns to you, “Does that mean you’ll toss me a ring of flowers?” He’s a flirt in all the ways, and by god you’d probably pass away if he looks at you any more intensely.

“Maybe I will, Remus.” You leave then, giving him a wave and a smile as you walk off towards the tents that sell all the odds and ends.

The black haired man turns to him, “You better hope you win, Moony. How embarrassing would it be if you let the pretty girl down.”

Remus rolls his shoulders back as he drains his beer, no pressure then, he thinks to himself. Maybe he’ll even get your number if he wins.

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Idea #92: Percy/Apollo, but make it The Trojan War

Into every fandom, a time travel fic must fall - or in this case a second one, because I somehow got to thinking about the delightful PJO trope of Percy being thrown back in time to The Trojan War and realized that doing so misses out on a fantastic opportunity.

Or: What if post-TOA Percy Jackson and Apollo time travel to shortly before The Trojan War?

Just imagine it:

Everything follows canon through TOA, with one exception: rather than struggle to catch up in the mortal world following the Second Gigantomachy, Percy elects to stay at Camp Half-Blood. There he can homeschool at his own place with programs tailored towards ADHD children and still visit his family on the weekends - and not get into any more ridiculous situations in the mortal world when one of the gods kidnaps him or sends him on a quest to find their sneakers.

This, naturally, stresses his relationship with Annabeth - who, now that she's no longer living at camp full time, calls it the easy way out. But Percy is tired and struggling in mortal high school where everyone thinks he's a delinquent idiot when another option exists seems foolish. Percy and Annabeth break up and drift apart.

Enter Apollo, fresh from his latest stint as a mortal. He's trying to do his best by his children, which includes popping by camp as often as he can get away with - which in turn means spending a lot of time with Percy, who at this point is unofficially running CHB because it's not like Dionysus or even Chiron have done a brilliant job of it in recent times.

(First aid, strategy, and mythology classes are made mandatory. Percy personally ensures every demigod knows enough about self-defense to be able to survive long enough to run away or for help to arrive. Bullying is cracked down on so hard that it's this, not Percy's generally parental nature, that has people calling him Camp Mom.)

Percy and Apollo become friendly. Enough so that some of Apollo's kids assume they're dating and keeping it on the down-low so as not to draw Zeus' ire. Or Poseidon's. Or anyone else's. It's on one of their not-dates that they're yeeted into the past, without warning or explanation.

And so 19-year-old Percy Jackson and post-TOA Apollo find themselves in Ancient Greece c. 1220 BCE, roughly thirty-five years before the destruction of Troy.

The time travel is immediately obvious, as Apollo becomes the closest thing a god might experience to being high the moment they land in the past - being a powerful god in modern times is nothing like being a powerful god at the height of his power in ancient times. It's overwhelming (and somewhat alarming from Percy's POV, but kind of funny in retrospect.)

The specific date is harder to determine, but made clear when Hermes shows up and starts going on about you'll never believe what father's done now: he seduced the Spartan queen as a swan and she's laid an egg. Hera is furious - especially as they're saying the girl that hatched from it is the most beautiful in the world, even though she's only a few days old. It's nuts. By the way, where have you been? You missed the last two council meetings. Do you want Dad to punish you?

Apollo at this stage is very high. He's also been USTing over Percy for quite some time and is worried what the gods of this era might do to Percy without divine protection (smiting or seduction, it's all on the table). But mostly he's very high, and so to keep Percy close and safe he declares he's been off having the dirtiest of dirty weekends with his latest lover and that Hermes' presence is ruining the mood. So if he would kindly leave, please and thank you, he'd really rather get back to it without an audience.

This, naturally, is a surprise to Percy, but he rolls with it because 1) he doesn't have any better ideas on how to get rid of Ancient Greek Hermes so they can figure out what the hades is going on and 2) he's been USTing over Apollo ever since he recovered enough from Tartarus to start feeling attraction again.

Fueled by mutual UST, they put together a cover story that should hold the next time a god with too much prurient interest shows: Percy is now Prince Persē of Gadir - a Phoenician colony that will grow into the future Cadiz - well past the edge of the Greek world at this stage but not beyond belief for Poseidon to have visited, as it's obvious who his father is. They claim his mother is the King of Gadir's youngest sister and as such Persē had a royal upbringing, but was far enough down the line of succession that he was free to chose to sail east and explore his father's homeland. Apollo caught sight of him on his journey, one thing led to another, and here they are.

(Are there easier, more sensible cover stories? Possibly. But the UST refuses to let them consider any of them now that a fake relationship is on the table.)

Deciding what to do about The Trojan War is much harder. On the one hand, it's a lot of senseless death and destruction. On the other, without it we don't get The Iliad and The Odyssey - two of the most influential works of literature in western civilization - and Aeneas doesn't go off to Italy (leading to the founding of Rome, which would change the history of western civilization a lot). In the end, they decide to let the war happen but do their best to mitigate the worst parts of it.

And so Percy goes off and becomes a hero of Ancient Greece while pretending to be in a relationship with Apollo.

This stage of things is filed with angst from both parties, as both Percy and Apollo want a real relationship with each other but think they're abusing the other's trust by eagerly faking their relationship. There's a lot of PDA, a lot of feelings, and limited communication. It goes on for quite a while and would probably exasperate quite a few people if everyone in the know didn't think they were already in a relationship.

It's also filled with modern day Percy being confronted by realties of life in Ancient Greece. It's not just mortals knowing about - and interacting with - the gods: it's everything. It's food and clothes and language and culture and housing and travel. He can play a lot off it as being a traveler from the edge of the known world, but some of it has him asking Apollo if he's being rick rolled.

Apollo, meanwhile, is having troubles of his own. He is not the god he used to be and it's hard pretending otherwise. He tries to walk the line of doing enough to be believable and holding back enough not to despise himself, but it's a fine line, he fails often, and he spends a not insignificant amount of time worried he's backsliding.

And so it goes until 7-year-old Helen of Troy is kidnapped by Theseus to be his wife.

This, naturally, does not fly with Percy, who by this time has built up something of a reputation as a hero. He teams up with the Dioscuri to rescue Helen.

One would think this would earn him Zeus' favor. It doesn't. Instead, Zeus sends monsters to harry him for refusing to let Castor and Pollux take Helen's captors' loved ones captive and raze Aphidna for Theseus' crime. Percy manages to hold his own for quite a while but eventually, exhausted from the near-constant fighting, is gored and left for dead by the reformed Minotaur.

...and when Apollo arrives, frantic, to heal him, Percy ascends instead, becoming the greek version of Saint Sebastian - a minor god of heroes, strength in the face of adversity, and athleticism; sort of halfway between Hercules and Chiron.

Then and only then do Percy and Apollo finally get their act together, confessing to each other how much they care for the other and how much they don't want this to be fake any longer.

History proceeds apace - albeit with Persē being a second immortal trainer of heroes.

24 years after their arrival in the past, 16 years after Percy's ascension, The Trojan War begins. Despite their best efforts, there's only so much they can do - war is war and gods are gods. They are able to stop some of the worst excesses on both sides, but in the end Apollo still sends the plague that causes Agamemnon to take Briseis for his own, which caused Achilles' departure from the field, Patroclus' death, &c - not because Apollo was trying to maintain the timeline, but because in the instant he sent it he was angry and reverted to his old ways.

Troy falls...

...but when Zeus tries to use this as an excuse to ban gods from interacting with their demigod children, Apollo is able to say that's a bit extreme isn't it? with enough backing from the rest of the council that Zeus is forced to amend his ruling so that the gods are only allowed to freely visit their children on the "cross quarter days" that fall between each solstice and equinox (1 February, 1 May, 1 August, and 1 November).

This changes everything and nothing.

Time continues its inevitable march. Greece has its golden age before being conquered by Rome, which splits apart under its own weight and forms several smaller countries, which eventually spread their cultures around the world...

Apollo and Percy are there for it all. Persē is a minor figure in mythology, but never forgotten. He is ever-present in Apollo's temples - though the Church will later try to rewrite their myth so that they were merely sworn fighting partners, rather than lovers who eventually had a quite lovely wedding on Olympus (and then, at Poseidon's insistence, an even bigger ceremony on Atlantis). Percy takes over day-to-day operations of CHB from practically the moment the Trojan War ends.

...and so Persē is there the day Sally Jackson tries to get her son to camp, and is able to intervene when the Minotaur attacks on their border. He's able to meet her and her young son, Perseus ("Mom named me after you and the guy that killed Medusa since you're the only two heroes to have happy endings!"), and guide him through the trials that come with being a child of prophecy.

One day that Percy will hand Luke - who was never happy with the limited attention the gods were allowed to give their children - a cursed dagger so that Kronos can be defeated. That child will be offered godhood, turn it down, and go on to have a happy life with his eventual wife, Annabeth. He will never have his memories erased and be sent to Camp Jupiter. Gaia will not rise until long after that Percy's grandchildren are dead, and Zeus will not be quite so bullheaded when the proof of it is brought before him. That Second Gigantomachy is swift, well-coordinated, and fought without another Greek/Roman war brewing in the background.

And when they finally arrive at the day Apollo and Percy were originally sent back in time, Percy admits that while he is happy some version of him was better prepared for the war he was asked to fight in and allowed his peace afterward, he would change nothing about his own life, for it brought him to Apollo. The sunrise the next morning - on the first morning of the rest of their lives - is particularly spectacular.

Bonuses include:

Gaslighting Poseidon into believing that he's met Percy before the first time they're introduced. ("What do you mean you don't remember me, Father? You were present when I came of age! You gifted me this trident! Have I displeased you in some way?") It's an absolute masterclass that eventually manages to convince Poseidon that, yes, of course he knows Percy - and, maybe, he should check in on all his other demigod children to make sure he's not missed someone. (Two. He lost track of two of the others. Maybe he should be more careful about siring children in the future.) Apollo practically has to stuff his fist in his mouth to keep from laughing.

As much historical accuracy as can be crammed into the Percy trying to make sense of Ancient Greece chapters as possible. Think Of a Linear Circle - Part III by flamethrower levels of historical research. As much as can be shoehorned in without bogging down the plot.

Percy and Dionysus bonding over their mutual dislike of Theseus, though Percy generally gets along with his other half-siblings, especially the ones who come to camp young enough to keep from getting big heads over being the children of Poseidon.

Though Percy adores all the children in Cabin 7 (most of whom are born via blessing this time around), he and Apollo have at least one child of their own - maybe a demigod born before Percy's ascension to sell their fake relationship? Maybe a minor god who's later attributed a different parentage by mortals? Dealer's choice on details.

It never being made clear who, or what, or how, Percy and Apollo were sent into the past. All of Percy's oddities are attributed to him being foreign or formerly mortal, all of Apollo's to the fact that he's in love with someone who didn't die before their first anniversary, and no one ever guesses time travel is responsible for their eccentricities. Or that time travel was ever an option.

And that's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt, just link back if you ever decide to do anything with it.

More PJO Ideas | More Terrible Fic Ideas

[obsessedbtch]

𝟐 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬, 𝟏 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝟏 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡.

hopkins! p. bueckers x fem!reader

summary: she can’t let you read her, she is so difficult to understand, you are tired of crying because of her.

warnings: angst!! paige doesn’t know what she wants.

note: kinda short, trying to make my writing more smooth and understandable

“sometimes it’s better to close the window no matter how beautiful the view is.”

scanning once again the notes you toke from spanish class, the blue ink keeping company to the paper and the little sticky notes spread around this one. in a few days you had an exam, being the paranoid person you are, wanting anything more than a perfect score made you study everything you have been seeing since day one, finals were around the corner. you decided to study all the way to north carolina. wanting an excellent grade wasn’t the only thing disturbing your mind, a certain basketball player was also bothering you, maybe that’s why you couldn’t make the information stick in your brain.

it bothered you, it bothered that you couldn’t understand her, you tried, but she was so difficult to read, she refused to open up to you, even though you have been dating for quite a while, maybe it wasn’t even dating, it felt like you were just fuck buddies, a shoulder to cry on, a friend.

some times she couldn’t keep her hands to herself, her hands being glue and your skin being paper, it was difficult to take off once glued together. other times, she wouldn’t even take a glance at your direction, making a conversation with everyone except you, it made your eyes itch with tears and your throat tightened.

the only ones to observe they way you will agonize for her, was the brightens of the moon and the stars, highlighting beautifully the black sky when it came dark, looking down on you laying on your backyard while your parents where gone, you thought that your pillow was sick of having to absorb your salty tears.

some how, the itchiness of the green grass beneath you, the full round moon, with small white dots shining around her, brought you comfort, when the cold was to much to handle and it felt like a rough breeze surrounding the nude of your arms and legs, it filled the noticeable hole in you heart, filling it up with comfort, the one you desired so bad.

you have a bad habit, a terrible one. is it really that bad wanting, desiring something so bad? it truly is if its making you feel all kinds of ways, but not the ways that made you feel loved, or make your breath shaky and unstable when your heart started to speed up.

you could write about her to the point of suffocating, not thinking the right words to describe her, staring at her was like looking a blank paper, you don’t know what do with it until they gave you instructions, you don’t understand why is it blank, it doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t express anything, it’s so difficult to understand.

“i cried while writing about you in my diary.”

you couldn’t stop writing about her.

it was so late, you couldn’t bother taking a look at the clock.

the sound of little rock’s hitting constantly on your window was something to familiar, you knew that perfect aim to well, it made you write even more faster, not taking note about how awful your writing became the more you write about her, it was so noticeable, the words coming from the bottom of your heart and the cold tears threatening to came out like water falls from your eyes once you blink, it made your eyes even more watery and burn from not blinking, not wanting to ruin your perfectly done homework.

finally giving up, fixing your posture, you allowed your back to take a break while still hearing the rocks hitting on your window, taking it like a background sound, but it made you feel frustrated.

as consequence of relaxing, the tears that pilled up in your eyes came out like just like you expected, without writing anything and not being concentrated in anything, it made the sound of the rocks grow louder.

standing up from the chair, making aside the thoughts of the person hitting your window was paige.

opening the curtains not being welcomed with the shining sun of the early morning, instead, it was the sight that gave you comfort, that dried your coldly salt tears with the breeze making your once warm pinkish cheeks sticky.

but this time it didn’t bring comfort.

it made your heart explode.

the view was so beautiful, the stars filling the darkness not leaving any blank space behind, the moon, today it was a third quarter.

you stared at her, trying not to show any emotion, just like she did when you tried to talk to her, it was like you switched roles, she had a agonizing stare it almost made you cry.

she looked up to you, opening her mouth to say something but nothing came out, she didn’t know what to say, the words kept getting stuck on the bottom of her throat.

your hands made their way to your wide open glass window, you needed to close the window, right now or you wouldn’t be responsible for your actions, but it was such an amazing view.

the sound of your windows crashing because of the sudden collision made your walls shake, the sound making you shut your eyes tightly, afraid that if you opened them again you would run into her arms, only opening them again once you closed your curtains.

written by coeur!! byeeee

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 73

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 5K

Masterlist

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Thursday, March 24; 8:30 AM – Camp Wiegman

I’ve never seen such organization. Mr. Johnson has planned everything down to the smallest detail. Everything except maybe the bus being late. Still, we know the time to leave is approaching quickly. Our management teacher, along with Lucy and Ingrid, are our chaperones for this trip, which is seeming more and more boring. Through a small note, we found out that the company we’re visiting isn’t even in Manchester, so we’ve got quite a drive ahead. I made sure to pack my headphones for the trip after confirming with Lucy that it was allowed. I have a feeling I won’t enjoy any of this. The company selected is an industrial one. To be honest, none of this interests me at all. Seeing that nothing was happening for a while, I slipped out of the group standing by the grills to go see Lucy.

"Are we leaving soon? This is getting long."

"I know. The driver’s on his way. Your teacher just spoke to him on the phone."

"Okay," I sighed.

"Come on, don’t complain, you’re getting out of a whole day of classes."

I shrugged. Honestly, I think I’d rather stay here, given what’s waiting for us. Lucy laughed at my lack of enthusiasm.

"Oh, come on, it could be cool. It’s interesting to see the world of cars."

"Speak for yourself."

From her perspective, it’s definitely different. She really likes motor vehicles. At least there’s one person who’s going to enjoy this trip.

"Go join the others, we’ll be leaving soon."

I sighed but did as told, heading back toward my friends. At least she was right. After a few more minutes, the bus finally arrived, much to everyone’s relief, especially the teachers, given how my class was starting to get restless. After one last headcount, we were finally able to board the bus. As for me, I hung back with my friends, as well as Lucy and Ingrid. We figured everyone would rush to get the back seats, and that’s exactly what happened. Johnson had to shout to be heard over the commotion. Poor guy, he’s going to lose his voice at this rate. Our turn came, and the only thing that mattered to me was sitting near my girlfriend, which luckily, I did. I sat with Alessia, just behind Ingrid and Lucy, but in front of Lotte and Leah. At least we were sure we wouldn’t be bothered. Our teachers sat in the same row as Lucy. She took the window seat, which was fine by me. At least I knew my management teacher wouldn’t bug her. I’d already noticed he’d been trying to cozy up to her since this morning. I’m not jealous—okay, maybe just a little. He did one last headcount before giving the driver the green light. The noise in the bus was deafening. I was going to get a headache before we even reached the factory. I was already not feeling great anyway.

"Sorry for the delay. Traffic is terrible this morning," the driver explained. "There was an accident on the road I took. It was too late to turn back."

"It’s not your fault," my teacher sighed. "But this means it’ll take us longer to get there. We’ll probably hit rush hour."

Wonderful! That was the last thing I wanted to hear. My exaggerated sigh made Alessia laugh.

"Wow, you’re really not excited, huh?"

"Next time, I’ll fake being sick."

"Not in your wildest dreams," I heard Lucy say from the front.

I made silly faces, making my friend laugh, but it caught my girlfriend’s attention. She raised an eyebrow, but I just gave her an angelic smile in return. Luckily for me, she quickly gave up.

"You didn’t wake up on the right side of the bed, did you?"

I shrugged. Not really, no. I got my period this morning, and it’s been a while since I’ve had such bad cramps. That’s not something I was about to tell her, though. If this was the price for restarting my whole system down there, then so be it, although I could have done without it. I sighed, leaning my head against the window. This trip was going to be long—I could feel it.

"You’re really pale. Are you sure you’re okay?" Alessia asked.

She placed her hand on my forehead to check my temperature. Her comment seemed to alert Lucy, who turned around again.

"I’m fine," I sighed. "Just feeling a bit off."

"What’s wrong?" Lucy asked. "You look like you’re about to be sick."

Now that she mentioned it, my stomach wasn’t the only thing bothering me. I shrugged in response.

"Do you mind switching seats, Alessia?"

"No, not at all," she replied.

Within minutes, Lucy was sitting next to me. She touched my forehead, but I didn’t think she’d find anything. I didn’t feel like I had a fever.

"Did you eat anything this morning?"

"Yeah."

I blushed, looking down at my hands. I didn’t know how to explain what was wrong without saying it out loud.

"Does something hurt?"

There it was—the opening I needed.

"My stomach, but it’s not because of what I ate..."

She raised an eyebrow at my confident tone. Then, I saw the light bulb go off in her head.

"Oh. I see. Did you take anything?"

"No, I didn’t have anything on me..."

"Okay, hang on."

She bent down to rummage through her bag. All I wanted to do was collapse onto her, but we both knew that wasn’t possible. Johnson, who was sitting a row ahead, started asking Lucy about me, but she quickly brushed him off, saying she could handle it. Usually, when my periods started like this during my teenage years, the pain would escalate, which was what worried me. I still had cramps sometimes, but not this intense. Normally, you couldn’t tell by looking at me, and I rarely complained.

"Here, take this."

She handed me a pill along with a bottle of water. I swallowed it without even asking what it was, especially now that even my head was starting to ache. I would have taken anything to make it stop.

"You’re usually not in this much pain, are you?"

"No."

I blushed again. I didn’t want her to think it was her fault. She just nodded.

"Rest up. We’ve got at least an hour before we get there, thanks to the traffic."

I nodded and leaned my head against the window. It wasn’t the best idea, considering the way it was shaking my head, but I didn’t have much choice.

"Don’t be silly. Come here—it’ll be more comfortable."

She surprised me by inviting me to rest my head on her shoulder. I wasn’t going to complain. It was clearly much more pleasant. With that, I closed my eyes, hoping the medicine would kick in.

Thursday, March 24; 9:50 AM – At the company 

"And here we are," my teacher announced.

We had just arrived at the company, a full half-hour behind schedule. I was cold. Lucy had woken me up just before we arrived, and my body was struggling to warm up again. All I wanted was to be in my girlfriend’s arms. I hated being so close to her yet feeling so far away.

"I expect you all to behave impeccably during this visit. This is one of the few trips that’s been approved by our school, so don’t make the principal or me regret it."

Oddly, everyone had calmed down. I’m not sure what had happened, but the last thing I remembered was the incessant noise of my classmates, which had kept me from sleeping properly. Lucy was by my side, and I don’t think she was planning on going anywhere. She was so sweet to care this much about me.

"As I mentioned in class, you'll be divided into four groups of six or seven people. We'll assign the groups, and then we can begin."

Everyone is called one by one. Lucy kept me by her side, assuring me that we would spend the day together. To be honest, I tried hard to get her to reveal who was on her list, like Alessia, but surprisingly, she didn’t let anything slip. So, it would be a surprise. The surprise didn’t last long though. Ingrid was the first to form her group, and Alessia and Lotte were in it. I realized Mr. Johnson had purposely separated us. My other classmates weren’t with their usual groups either. Well, at least he ensured we were with someone we knew. Then it was Lucy’s turn. I was right—Leah was in my group, along with a few others I barely knew. I don’t tend to talk to many others, but being with Leah is fine. Though she didn’t seem too pleased, judging by the sigh she let out as she joined us.

"Try to contain your joy, Leah," Lucy teased.

"I’m doing my best," she replied, rolling her eyes, making my girlfriend do the same.

Some people laughed, but it didn’t last long. Lucy commands respect and asked us to form a line, two by two. Mr. Johnson, who had another group beside him, couldn’t help but comment.

"Well. You’re a woman who knows how to command respect."

I’m going to punch him soon. Lucy, noticing my frustration, discreetly grabbed my wrist to stop me from saying anything.

"The important thing is that it’s mutual," she retorted.

Her reply made him look away, and she let go of my wrist. I hated how he acted like he had the right to flirt with her. She really needs to put him in his place. If she could tell him she’s taken and mention she prefers women, that would be perfect. But, unfortunately, according to her, it doesn’t need to go that far. Maybe I should show her what it feels like to be hit on in front of your partner and not be able to do anything about it... My period is really messing with my emotions. I took a deep breath to calm myself. Lucy gave me a soft smile as she stepped ahead of Leah and me.

"Alright, we can head in now," announced my teacher once the groups were formed.

"Let’s go, and quietly," Lucy instructed when it was our turn.

Without resistance, the group obeyed. We entered, and to my surprise, the interior was quite welcoming. I had expected something much more industrial, given the environment. We were greeted by a man in his thirties. He spoke briefly with our teacher before giving an introduction. I realized he was the director. Given his age, it was likely a family business, and that’s exactly how he introduced it. Since some were already taking notes, I followed suit, fighting off the headache that was starting to form. I wasn’t sure I’d make it through the day. Lucy seemed to understand how I felt, but apart from a small, sympathetic smile, she couldn’t do much.

"Alright, now that the introductions are over, we’ll begin the tour."

I started to panic. I hadn’t written much compared to Leah’s notebook. She smiled at me and said she’d share her notes with me at the end of the day if I wanted.

"We’ve divided you into four groups. We’ll be exploring the different departments of the company. There’s the administration, the design office, the factory itself, and the logistics section."

I jotted down what he listed. Those would be the four key areas. Based on the questionnaire we had received, I began to understand much more. He wanted us to grasp the management aspects of a business.

"Each area is vital to the smooth running of a company, so it doesn’t matter in which order we visit them. I’ll personally be following one of the groups today. The others will be guided by my colleagues. I hope you enjoy the tour of my company."

You could really sense how proud he was of his business. I could easily see Lucy reacting the same way someday. She was about to join the other instructors, probably to decide which group would go where, but I stopped her.

"I think I need to use the restroom before we start all this..."

My stomach was still hurting, and the medicine hadn’t worked. She nodded.

"I’ll ask about it."

I watched as she walked off to speak with the director. And there was another man staring at her a bit too much. I’m really going to lose it with all these guys. 

"Still not feeling any better?"

"No," I sighed.

I glanced at Leah, who was fidgeting beside me, her hands stuffed into her pockets. I could tell something was bothering her. I was glad to be with her today. Since I started dating Lucy, she’d distanced himself, and I had to admit it hurt a little. She was one of the first I’d managed to befriend since I came here. She’s a really good person, even if she doesn’t believe it himself.

"Everything okay?"

"Not really... I feel bad."

"Why?"

"I wasn’t fair to you and your girlfriend."

"Oh... Leah..."

"I feel guilty for judging you too quickly. You two seem really solid, unlike what I thought."

I smiled softly. For her to admit her mistake, she must have given it a lot of thought. I was surprised, but happy at the same time. Maybe not all was lost. She really cared about our friendship after all.

"I don’t hold it against you, don’t worry."

"I was thinking, maybe we could plan something together, with her, sometime."

"Yeah, we could do something at the end of the year if you want. I don’t think she’ll be up for it before then."

She nodded understandingly. She finally dared to look at me after all that. She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes.

"Are you sure you’re okay? You really don’t look good."

I shook my head. I’d been trying to hide it, but I was on the verge of vomiting right there. I barely opened my mouth.

"Hey, Bronze," Leah called out. "She’s about to throw up."

Thank goodness she understood. Immediately alarmed, my girlfriend pulled me into the restroom. Luckily, the door was just behind us all along, and I hadn’t even noticed. She barely had time to open a stall and save my hair before I threw up my breakfast into the toilet. The scene felt like déjà vu. She sighed as she tied my hair back with a hair tie.

"Do you feel any better?"

I didn’t even have time to answer before it happened again. All Lucy could do was rub my back. I’d never been this sick before, and I was starting to wonder if it was really my period causing this.

"Okay... You can’t do the tour like this."

"Is everything alright in here?"

I sat on the bathroom floor as this voice echoed. I must have looked pathetic. Lucy grabbed some paper to wipe my mouth before flushing the toilet as she stood up. I looked over at the man I recognized as the director.

"No," Lucy answered. "She’s been feeling sick since this morning, and it seems to be getting worse."

My stomach was hurting so much I had tears in my eyes. I held it with my arms, but it didn’t help. I didn’t dare look at them either. I preferred to stare in the opposite direction to avoid them seeing me like this.

"It’s been decided that I’ll lead your group through the tour, so I suggest going ahead without you."

"I’m not sure that’s the best solution. Students can be difficult sometimes."

"Oh, I don’t doubt it," he laughed. "I have four kids and I run a business, so I don’t think six students are going to give me much trouble."

Hearing that, I noticed the wedding ring on his finger. I felt foolish for thinking he was eyeing Lucy earlier. Now that I saw him up close, he also seemed slightly older than I had initially thought. He looked to be in his thirties, but probably closer to forty.

"You can’t leave her alone, so take care of her. Maybe she’ll feel better, and you can join us later. We’re visiting two departments this morning, and then it’ll be time for lunch," he explained.

"I need to check with Mr. Johnson first."

"It’s already been arranged. He agreed to this."

"Alright... Well, thank you. Hopefully, we’ll join you later."

"My pleasure. Good luck," he said before leaving.

Once we were alone, Lucy crouched down in front of me again. I felt better, or at least relieved, but my stomach pain wasn’t going away. Lucy gently cupped my face.

"Are you sure it’s your period? This seems a bit extreme."

I shrugged. I wasn’t sure anymore.

- "The pain isn't just in my lower stomach..." I admitted after noticing it.

- "Alright," she murmurs. "I'll call the school. Maybe you’ve eaten something that didn't sit well, and if that's the case, you’re probably not the only one."

- "I had the same thing as usual," I complained.

- "I know, but you never know. I'll be right back."

She kissed the top of my head before leaving to ask for a phone. Apparently, she didn’t have hers. I groaned when she left. Judging by the silence, I assumed the others had already left the lobby. Something like this always has to happen to me, especially during my only class trip. I'd pay good money just to get a hug from Lucy right now. I waited a while, and during that time, my stomach continued to rumble. Maybe she was right. It probably wasn’t just my period causing this. It felt like hours passed before she finally returned.

- "Did you have hot chocolate this morning?" she asked.

What kind of question was that? Of course, I had. I nodded.

- "Well, looks like we have our answer. The milk was expired. They forgot to check the date. Didn’t you notice anything odd about the taste?"

- "N-no."

Since I usually dunk my pastry in it, I hadn't noticed anything strange. I groaned again as the pain persisted. Lucy sighed and sat down next to me. I wasted no time collapsing into her. She chuckled, wrapping her arms around me, and I sighed in contentment. I had been waiting for this moment. She kissed my forehead again.

- "You’re burning up. Looks like you’re in for a rough day, poor thing."

- "It’s not so bad, since you're here with me."

She chuckled softly, tightening her embrace.

- "For once, you’re being optimistic…"

I nudged her playfully in the stomach, making her laugh. I could stay here for hours. Of course, she had to shatter my hopes.

- "Come on, we can't stay here. The ladies at reception offered us a room to rest in."

- "No... I'm fine right here," I mumbled.

- "Come on," she teased. "We’re not staying on the bathroom floor all day."

I groaned as she stood up, leaving me without anything to lean on. I had no choice but to stand, with her help. The only positive thing was that my nausea had passed by now. Lucy supported me as we walked to the reception area where two women stood behind the counter.

- "Is the room still available?" Lucy asked.

- "Yes, of course. I’ll open it for you," said the younger woman.

She stood up immediately, offering me a small smile that I struggled to return. She led us to a door opening into a large conference room.

- "Feel free to ask if you need anything."

- "You’ve already done a lot. Thank you."

She nodded and left us alone. Lucy guided me inside and closed the door behind us. At least we’d have some privacy.

- "Alright, lie down for a bit. It’ll help."

She made a makeshift bed by lining up several chairs in a row.

- "Come on."

I sighed but complied. I took my time, a bit afraid of the setup's sturdiness, but once I lay across the chairs, I realized it wasn't too bad. Lucy even gave me her scarf as a pillow. She couldn’t have picked anything better—I could still smell her scent this way. She then covered me with her jacket. I felt like I was freezing, but Lucy said it was due to the fever.

- "You’re staying, right?" I murmured.

- "Of course."

She pulled up a chair across from me and sat down. I smiled as she ran her hand through my hair to move it out of my face. I clung to her other hand, wanting to make sure she wouldn’t leave, though I knew she wouldn’t.

- "I love you," I murmured before drifting off to sleep.

Thursday, March 24; 12:10 PM 

I woke up to some commotion. Several voices stirred me from my deep sleep. I blinked a few times, trying to remember where I was. I hadn’t moved from the chairs. My first sight was Lucy, still sitting across from me, talking to someone I couldn’t make out. Our hands were no longer linked, and I soon understood why, recognizing the masculine voices in the room.

- "Looks like she’s waking up."

Lucy immediately turned her head toward me. She smiled as I stretched slowly, still gripping her scarf beneath me. Something felt off about the room, but I couldn’t place it.

- "How are you feeling?" she asked.

I shrugged, still groggy. I wasn’t sure how I felt yet. I thought my fever had broken since I wasn’t as cold as before.

- "Your classmates are having lunch. Are you hungry?"

A wave of disgust washed over me. Any mention of food made me nauseous right now. Lucy laughed at my expression, which must have been amusing.

- "Alright, I get it," she smiled softly. "But I’m hungry. So either you come with me, or someone else will stay here with you."

I groaned, trying to sit up. She quickly stopped my abrupt movements.

- "Take it easy," she teased. "I’m not going anywhere."

A cold draft hit me as I lost the warmth of her jacket. I slowly sat up and glanced around. Mr. Johnson was there with the company manager. I was glad they didn’t bombard me with questions. However, I noticed my teacher giving me a rather stern look, which I ignored. I ran my hand through my hair to smooth it down, shivering in the process.

- "Can I keep your jacket? It’s still so warm."

My voice cracked from disuse. Lucy nodded and helped me put it on to preserve the warmth. She also draped her large scarf over my shoulders like a shawl.

- "Alright, let’s go."

She guided me with a hand on my back. I ignored the men in the room, sensing that they understood this wasn’t the time to talk to me. Lucy must have filled them in before I woke up. We walked into another, larger conference room. The company had prepared sandwiches and muffins for lunch, which was nice of them. My classmates were gathered around the table, but Lucy led me to the far end, where the teachers were seated. I still felt a bit out of place, but I didn’t want to leave Lucy just yet.

- "Hey there," Ingrid greeted me. "You always get sick at the worst times, don’t you?" she teased gently.

I groaned in response. Lucy laughed as she pulled out a chair for me between the two of them. I sat down, gripping her scarf tightly around me.

- "Stop bothering her. She’s already grumpy enough."

- "Oops, sorry," Ingrid said with a playful grin. "Do you know what caused it?"

- "The milk this morning. Wiegman was furious. Several students got food poisoning."

- "Damn, that sucks for you," she said, patting my shoulder. "Though now we know you’re the only one still drinking hot chocolate in the morning. Maybe it’s time you switched to coffee," she joked.

I shrugged off her hand and rested my head on my arms on the table with a soft groan. Lucy chuckled, running her fingers through my hair.

- "She’s just kidding. Calm down."

I didn’t respond. They continued chatting, but I lost track of the conversation. I felt like I could fall asleep again in any position. However, Lucy didn’t give me the chance. She gently rubbed my thigh, discreetly keeping me awake.

- "Looks like someone won’t be feeling better this afternoon," Ingrid remarked.

- "No, it doesn’t seem like it."

- "Do you want to switch?" Ingrid offered. "I can stay with her if you want to do the factory tour."

I glanced over at Lucy. I didn’t want to keep her from the tour, but I’d rather have her stay with me. As if to reassure me, Lucy’s touch became more soothing.

- "No, it’s fine. I’ll stay with her."

- "Alright, as you wish," Ingrid didn’t insist.

I felt relieved. I love Ingrid, but she couldn’t replace Lucy’s presence. The break was brief. My class soon resumed the tour in their groups. I didn’t even get a chance to chat with my friends. I hope they don’t hold it against me for ignoring them during that short time. I’ll catch up with them once this is all over.

[rosakuma]

DRDT EP 14 Thoughts(spoilers of course 😋)

I’m about to go insane

Okay for starters…..I’d like to apologize to the Hu nation and the Eden!cultprit truthers. To be fair, she was very sus before we clarified Nico’s murder attempt. To which damn Nico, I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt only because it was strange how you held that wire, but it makes sense now knowing the reason. Man I feel awful for a lot of people here in this episode. Nico regrets trying to kill Ace even if they dislike him because he reminded them of the people who hurt Nico before(peers, teachers, and their father OOF). And now they gotta live with having “Almost murder” stuck to their name while also losing a potential friendship with Rose(we NicoRose shippers lost dang it). Poor Rose feeling guilty of her memory being out of shape(the poor girl is traumatized by remembering the clear deaths, I don’t blame her) and getting blames for it. But thank goodness my goat/best girl Teruko with some good old character development came in and reassured Rose that she is useful and it’s not her fault(Us TerukoXRoss shippers fricken WON!). David while still being an ass that I hate(albeit now feel more sympathetic towards) I feel bad for witnessing Arei’s body first….god no wonder why he’s so mad at the killer, I’m pissed at them too. And then there’s Ace….this episode turn me into the 1# Ace Markey defender. My poor man has been suffering this chapter and things keep getting worse for him. He pushes everyone away thanks to his paranoia, has a eating disorder no one notices which is hurting him, was ALMOST MURDERED with no one worried about him(hell Hu fricken defended his potential murder rather than reprimanding them!), and worse of all, the one person he thought who cared about him in this terrible place admitted he doesn’t care if he lives or dies….oh and now he’s being accused of killing Arei. F*ck Ace’s life is so tragic. Oh yeah speaking of the killer. EDEN HOW DARE YOU, I BELIEVED IN YOU!! She is 100% the murder and it makes me so sad and sick seeing how well she’s able to make Teruko take her side. She even hugged her like Min did(I am going to be sick). I will say, Arei would respect the hustle and manipulation though. Well done Eden, you impressed your would’ve been bestie. I might make another post about why Ace can’t be the killer unless someone beats me to it, but yeah it’s Eden. No way Ace is the killer and it sucks how David despite revealing his true colors is still able to manipulate everyone(bro gonna out do Kokichi Ouma man).

[fanfic-writer-and-rambler]

Damian Wayne (holding a book): Alice in Wonderland?

Carrie: Oh read that one! It's good.

Damian: What's it about?

Carrie: A young girl who gets stuck in a mad world she doesn't understand. It's fictional. Want to clarify that to you.

Damian: Hm... I'll give it a shot. I probably won't like it though.

A week of that book, the sequel, the animated movie, buying merch later.

Damian: Why weren't more movies made!

Stephanie: Wasn't the writer a-

Damian: Silence wench!

Damian tosses a ball at Stephanie's head and she falls to the ground.

Dick: Yeah he found that out but he's separating the art from the artist.

Damian: Yes, thank you Grayson. Now there's a Burton version, we're watching it!

Dick sneaks out of the room with ease and shoves in Tim Drake.

Dick: Tim said he'll take my place I have a date tonight!

Tim: What?

Olive turns off the burner to start a small fire to make eggs.

Olive: Can I join?!

Damian: Yes, but don't burn anything.

Olive: I got you covered.

Olive walks to a chair and rips the leg off of it.

Olive: My comfort torch.

Damian: Was that my father's chair? You know what, I don't even care enough to deal with that right now keep the torch.

Damian finds out about the ... Tim Burton version.

Credits roll

Damian (confused): What was that?

Tim: You didn't like it?

Damian: It wasn't her going to wonderland it was her returning to wonderland, that bland piece of milk toast they had play the main character is supposed to be Alice, okay sure, and it's not called wonderland it's called underland... Under land that sounds like a perverted world for panty fetishes! They butchered this insane mad cap movie in a terrible live action remake. Damn them, damn them all!

Olive Silverlock (sitting with a lit up torch): Preaching to the choir. I still hate that Cinderella remake.

Bruce pours water on Olive's torch and tosses the stick.

Bruce: How do you know what a panty fetishist is...I don't want to know never mind. Well... want to watch The Care bears one?

Tim and Jason: There's a Care bears one?!

Bruce: Dick watched it all the time.

Jason: You can't just tell me that and I don't have anything to document it with.

Olive: Already jotted it down.

Damian: Just play The Care bears one I need to cleanse my mind of this Tim Burton mess... he's usually a good director too but like this and that one superhero movie I just cannot let go.

Bruce: I thought the superhero movie was pretty good! I'll go get the VHS tape.

Olive: Can I have my torch back?

Bruce: I'm locking this up somewhere!

[dark-and-kawaii]

Seeing others thirst over your male characters makes me feel better since I thought I was the only one. Now tell me about this new guy with the scars I need to know for sinful reasons

Oh yeah, no. You definitely aren’t alone with this and I’m honored for that ♡!!! Bahaha yes yes, I can tell you about Aedric! Please enjoy xoxo and thank you for the love ♡ ♡ ♡ I added pieces with Zevlor so you can get a feel for his character as well.

Aedric was actually created pre Lofn since he was introduced fairly early in our DnD campaign. He and his little brother were orphans that were taken in by Lynnania (Lofn’s mother the Queen). Aka her first two children despite not being of her blood. Unfortunately Aedric’s little brother passed.

When it comes to Zevlor, the two had a very rocky start and Aedric never liked the idea of his sister being with some washed up hellrider that couldn’t even protect his own people… During Lofn’s childbirth, as she was struggling to give birth and her screams could be heard, Aedric was pacing next to her angrily.

As Zevlor rushed into the chambers to be with his beloved, Aedric immediately drew his blade and held the sharp edge against Zevlor’s throat, growling- threatening, “Should she die, I will ensure you spend every waking moment haunted by the knowledge that her blood is on your hands thanks to that child you sowed inside her.”

It was only when the two went into battle and had to cover one another did Aedric begin to trust and respect Zevlor. And when Zevlor eventually killed Aradin that’s when Aedric finally accepted Zevlor. Hehehe ooops spoiler.

One time when Zevlor returned back to the castle, his form bloodied, his men trailing behind in a similar state. Aedric leaned against a wall, eyes narrowed as he listened... Watching as Lofn demanded what happened.

Zevlor’s gaze flickered to one of his men, his jaw clenched, an arm encircling Lofn as his other curled into a fist, “you fool! We were all nearly slaughtered because of your incompetence!”

Aedric pushed off the wall and quickly swept Lofn up, carrying her out from the room before locking her out. The air was thick as he turned, his eyes dark as he strode towards the accused man. The sound of his blade leaving its sheath before striking down the man that nearly got Zevlor killed…

Due to being raised by Lynnania and spending much of his time with her before her actual children were born he took on many of her traits. He’s ruthless, cold blooded, and does not hesitate to eliminate those he sees as obstacles. His actions often include lethal force, whether in battle or political maneuvering.

He tends to operate in shades of gray, making decisions that can be remorseless but always has his family & the people of Thay in mind. The people of Thay recognize Aedric as an incredibly skilled and deadly warrior as well as a capable diplomat, having help negotiate a peace treaty with a neighboring kingdom.

Aedric is known for his stoicism and dry wit- he often comes across as gruff and serious, but has moments where he’s humorous and has his guard down where he reveals deeper emotions.

Lofn and Aedric are extremely close, for example, when Lofn was little she often sought Aedric and Signa (her eldest blood brother) out. She would always cling to Aedric’s leg whenever they walked around the palace, and at times she’d even step on his toes so that he could walk around with her on his feet. During nights where terrible dreams haunted her she was usually found dragging Signa to Aedric’s room so that she could crawl in bed with him and have them both read her stories until she fell back asleep (though tired they didn’t mind doing this for her <3)

After proving himself worthy, Aedric gained the blessing of and became the rider of the third largest dragon in Thay, the Ancient Black Dragon.

[dyemelikeasunset]

is there a season you associate with dom and mor? either individually, as a pair, or story-wise (both their current story and their prequel)?

dom struck me as a winter type, she kind of reminds me of a tall bare-branched tree in a snowy landscape. and mor reminds me of spring and flowers. i’d love to know if you had specific seasonal symbolism in mind for them.

and do you think they would’ve gotten along if they had met when they were younger? like high school age?

You're very close!! I do assiciate Dom with winter, but I actually associate Mor with autumn

I wrote a lot so under a readmore it goes lol

Mor is late autumn afternoons with warm tea, big blankets and sweaters. The type of day ideal for curling up with a favorite book and vinyl playing softly. The first bites of winter frost are starting to creep into the air, but there are earthy but vibrant colors everywhere. Her favorite flowers (roses and pansies) are still quietly in bloom. At her worst I think of her like that depressive mindfog of days wasted entirely in bed, but at her best she's like those indoor dates spent talking about your deepest feelings and dreams

Dom is like a quiet and snowy winter solstice night, desolate but also romantic. The types of nights where the snow eats up every sound, but reflects light and makes it easy to see where you're going. The type of night that makes you feel it's not so bad being alone even if the sky is pitch black. It's unbelievably cold, but the snow seems to glitter like ten thousand little crystals. At her worst I think of her like a disoriented blizzard, but at her best I think of her like a romantic Christmas date

I associate their prequel largely with their seasons of autumn and winter (it's generally the span of the story as well, it takes two seasons for them to meet and fall in love), while Dom & Mor is every season. I wanted d&m to go beyond themes that have trapped them, because together their lives become fuller and less claustrophobic. Their feelings of being trapped are released and they have to grow beyond their roles and motifs

And the last question: Would they get along if they met younger? Yes actually!! I think they'd have been friends very easily. They were both quiet and studious. Mor would've been intimidated by Domi at first, but if they talked she'd quickly realize she was kind. I actually think it would have been easier for them to become friends in high school because Dom was a lot less tortured then and didn't give off her terrible aura lol, and Mor was less neurotic and self-doubting (she gained a lot of her insecurities from her failed relationships). I think it might have been harder for them to bridge the gap of friends to lovers though. They probably would've had one of those "we were friends in high school and thru the years she helped me through a lot of my heartbreaks but now we're adults and I'm realizing she might actually be the one" type of stories LOLLL

[luckyythirteen]

Do you have any hcs about STARS before the mansion incident? :)

i got a few!

- Wesker was a fair boss, everyone looked up to him. I like to think he butted heads with Irons a lot in the RPD due to Irons attempting to boss around his team.

- Speaking of that, one time Wesker had to break up a fight between Irons and Chris. Instead of reprimanding Chris he rounds on Irons and tells him "Don't ever lay a hand on one of my men again."

- While Barry was the father figure of the team, Wesker was very much the mentor and friend of the team. To keep up a personable facade he'd often talk with his team members and even pull them into his office to essentially let them vent if they were acting off.

- The team would often get together after work and try to persuade Wesker to hang out with them but 9/10 times he refused

- The times he would go though, if it was a night at the bar he was always a designated driver. They also learn to never play poker with wesker bcs he always wins, no one can read his dead eyes or expression

- had one (1) Christmas party where they had an ugly christmas sweater contest. Barry won.

- When Rebecca joined the team, Wesker admired her. Not in a sexual or romantic way, but he admired her intelligence and the fact she was a child prodigy

- If there was a case they took and it involved a child as a witness, Wesker usually would direct Barry or Chris as the one to talk to the child to get info/calm them down

- One time though that didn't work, so Wesker took matters into his own hands. He knelt down and took off his sunglasses and his tone becomes soft.

"I'm Captain Wesker. Are you feeling okay?"

The child stared at him with watery eyes and a vacant look he knew all too well as they shook their head.

"It must be scary, everyone surrounding you and asking questions you don't understand." Wesker said slowly. "You know, despite being the captain of the team, I'm scared too."

This caused the child to take a quick glance at him. "You are?"

Wesker nodded solemnly. "I am. The safety of my team and everyone else is my job. It's scary to not know what will happen next - so that's why I'm talking to you. You're very important and you're very brave, you know that? That's why I need your help. Can you tell me what you saw?"

- Everyone after is in utter SHOCK over the fact Wesker suceeded in making the kid talk.

- once the tension dies down they tease him about having a soft spot for months after

- wesker allowed the team members to bring games to the office (darts, cards etc)

- he regrets this decision when a dart lodged itself in his shoulder due to Richard's terrible aim one time

[fluentmoviequoter]

A Home to Thrive In

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!neighbor!reader

Summary: You still live next door to Tim Bradford's mother, and when he visits for the first time in years, you have to decide if you're willing to let go of the idea of him you fell in love with.

Warnings: spoilers/rewrite for 4x09 "Breakdown", angst, arguments, discussion of past abuse, r is Tim's childhood friend, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 3.5k+ words

A/N: It's late. This may be terrible. I will reassess tomorrow.

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

“Have you talked to Mom recently?” Genny asks. When Tim doesn’t answer, she sighs and murmurs, “Don’t know why I thought you would.”

“Isn’t it bad enough that you’re dragging me back into the Tom Bradford-centric world I’ve been trying to outrun since we were kids? Now you want me to tell Mom about everything that’s happened,” Tim argues. “I’m already working on a murder case that Dad hid for decades. I don’t need more family drama right now, Genny."

“She worries about you, Tim. Just wants to be part of your life again.”

Tim's phone rings, a saving grace, and he excuses himself as he pushes his chair away from the table and leaves his sister.

“Tim,” Lucy greets. “I brought Monica Ochoa back in.”

“The woman who was killed by the gun I found in my dad’s house. Why?”

“Because I knew there was more to her story. You- you couldn’t see past the version that you wanted to see.”

“What’d she say?”

“Your dad… Tim, Monica confessed.”

Tim hangs up on Lucy, walks directly past his sister while ignoring her questions, and gets in his truck to visit his dad. To see if he’ll tell the truth when he has no other choice or if he’s really the terrible man Tim thinks he is.

“You didn’t kill Frank,” Tim states.

Tom sighs before he counters, “Sure I did. Now, come on. Cuff me. Let’s just get this over with.”

“Monica confessed.”

“Leave her out of this.”

“Frank was beating her. She fought back. She shot him. She was terrified, so she ran to you. You came up with the burglary story, helped her stage the house, then you hid the gun in case the cops got too close, and you needed to frame someone else.”

“He was brutal, abusive,” Tom explains. “She deserves a medal for what she did.”

“He was abusive?” Tim repeats.

“What? You think I’m like him? I was nothing like Frank. I taught you what you needed to know, son. You’re a man now because of me.”

“No. I’m who I am in spite of you,” Tim replies. His dad doesn’t speak, and Tim nods as he adds, “Goodbye, Dad. I hope it hurts.”

In the hallway outside his dad’s room, Tim pulls his phone from his pocket and calls Grey.

“Bradford,” Wade greets as the call connects.

“I need to take some personal time,” Tim says instead of a salutation.

“Lord knows you’ve stashed up enough of it. Where are you going?”

“To see someone I should’ve visited a long time ago.”

“You did the right thing, Tim. Take your time and know we’re here for you when you get back.”

Tim ends the call, then texts his sister that he’s taking her advice. He hasn’t been home to his mom’s house in years, and he needs her, needs space from his family and his station, and needs to work through the events of the week on his own. Though he isn’t sure if he’s welcome or if his mother's new home will feel the same as it did fifteen years ago, Tim gets in his truck and drives toward the last place he felt at home.

Your evening walk is refreshing, and the sunset helps you focus on the beauty of the day as you wind down.

“Sweetheart!” your neighbor calls, waving from her porch.

“Mrs. Bradford,” you greet with a smile as you step onto her walkway. “How are you today?”

“Good, good. Talked to Genny earlier, she’s visiting Tim.”

You smile and nod, unwilling to touch the sensitive subject of Tim. Growing up with him, you saw the worst parts of his childhood, home life, and father, but that never added up to you. He ran away from his mother, from love and home just to outrun bad memories. A task you know to be impossible.

“How was your book?” you ask, moving away from Mrs. Bradford’s stressful family life. “Did you finish it last night?”

“I did. You were right, the twist at the end was a shock. I thought the vigilante did it!”

“Interesting,” you muse. “I was torn between him and the builder.”

Mrs. Bradford hums before her oven beeps.

“You take care of that,” you say as you wrap your arms over her shoulders in a quick hug. “We’ll talk about the book and start the sequel on Saturday?”

“Count on it. Have a good night!”

“You too!”

Headlights reflect off your front door as you push it open, but you don’t bother to turn around and see who it is. Two of your neighbors get home around this time, and there aren’t many visitors or tourists in your area. So, when you’re closing the curtains and notice an unfamiliar truck in Mrs. Bradford’s driveway, you decide to watch and ensure everything is okay.

“Tim!” Mrs. Bradford calls excitedly as the driver’s door opens. She rushes out and pulls him into a hug, and from the way he grips her and buries his face against her shoulder like he’s eight again, you know that this isn’t just a sorry I stopped calling, Mom visit. Something happened and that’s the only reason he’s home.

“Welcome home, Tim,” you whisper before you pull the curtains together and put the distance you’re used to back between you and Tim.

You kneel by your front door to tie your shoes. Then you untie them and loop the laces differently. Knowing that Tim Bradford is next door makes you hesitate to go outside. Yet, you don’t want to let him impact your life more than he already has. It wouldn’t be surprising to learn that his mother already told him about your downward spiral, how you fell apart when he left without so much as a word. As a kid, you fell in love with Tim Bradford, and you stayed in love with the idea of him in high school. Then, when he disappeared without a word or trace, and you only found out that he was a cop for the LAPD through his sister, you decided that the idea of him was as good as you would ever get.

“You can do this,” you tell yourself as you stand and lay your hand on the doorknob. “It’s just the man who has occupied your every thought for years. Just walk by.”

The magnitude of your mistake hits you in full force when you’re nearly past Mrs. Bradford’s fence. Tim says your name and your heart clenches at the realization that you remembered his voice so well. Years of hearing it in your dreams will preserve your memory like that.

“Tim,” you reply, swallowing as you face him. “I didn’t know you were coming home.”

“It wasn’t exactly the plan. Genny showed up and everything just kind of blew up in my face.”

Kind of like what you put me through, you think. Rather than saying it, you nod sympathetically.

“Did my mom… did she tell you about my dad?”

“Tim, your mom tells me a lot. But no one close to your mom has brought him up in years.”

“Wish my sister had gotten that message,” Tim scoffs.

“I hope you enjoy the time with your mom,” you interrupt. “But I’ve got to get going.”

“Right,” Tim agrees. “I’ll see you around.”

You nod but feel your chest tighten as you hope he’s wrong. Losing Tim Bradford again is not an option, so you refuse to let him closer than he needs to be.

“I didn’t know she moved with you, still lived next door,” Tim muses as his mother ushers him inside for breakfast.

“You don’t know much,” she points out, not unkindly but not untrue. “She knows more than you. I’ve told her everything Genny passed along. You were so close as kids.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees before he trails off. He remembers being friends, but not the kind of friends that would ask about each other. “I don’t think she wants to talk to me.”

“Well, you can hardly blame her.”

“What does that mean?”

Tim’s mother looks at him and presses her lips together. He has her eyes, but he doesn’t have her understanding or the intuition about people she tried to instill in him when his father wasn’t trying to teach him to be a man.

“If you can’t see it, Tim, it’s too late to explain it. She’s coming over for lunch and our duet book club tomorrow. You have thirty hours to read the book if you want to participate.”

“Thank you for letting me come home, Mom.”

She lays her hand on Tim’s shoulder and promises, “You’re always welcome here, Timothy.”

You knock on Mrs. Bradford’s door while Tim’s truck is gone. With one of her signature ceramic loaf pans in your hands, filled with your favorite cookies, you wait for the door to open to return her dish and offer some goodies.

“Sorry to…” you begin as the door opens. “Oh, Tim. Sorry, your truck was gone so I assumed your mom would be here.”

“She borrowed my truck to do something that she refused to have help for. Come on in.”

Tim opens the door for you, and for reasons beyond your comprehension, you accept his invitation and walk inside. After you set the pan on the counter, you turn around to leave, but Tim is leaning against the table and watching you.

“Enjoying your time off?” you question, wringing your fingers together behind your back.

“I am. Especially after the last case I worked on,” Tim answers. “My mom hasn’t told me much about you.”

You hum and look at your feet as you reply, “Not much to tell.”

“She seems to tell you a lot.”

“Look, Tim, I’m just trying to respect your boundaries. She told me that your dad was involved in something, a murder, but it’s not my business.”

“Frank Ochoa,” Tim interjects.

You furrow your brows as you ask, “Monica’s husband? But that was a robbery.”

Tim tilts his head to the side as he says, “My dad admitted to killing him. He was protecting Monica.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and nod.

“But you knew that, didn’t you?”

“What?”

Tim stands from the table, his crossed arms falling to his sides. “You knew something and didn’t tell anybody, didn’t you?”

“Tim, I-“

“Look, I’ve been lied to by too many people this week. You still have the same tell you did in elementary school. What did you know?”

You clench your jaw and step to the right to go around Tim, but he moves to block you, and rather than running into his chest, you retreat further into Mrs. Bradford’s kitchen.

“This case – the people there – have been lied to, we’ve been wrong, there’s been no justice for decades. And you’ve known something the whole time? How can you live with that?”

“How can I live with it?” you repeat incredulously. “How was I – a child, Tim – supposed to go to the police and tell them that I saw Frank beating Monica over and over? They wouldn’t have believed me!”

“You didn’t try!”

“Yes, I did!” you yell. Wiping the single tear that managed to escape in your memories of the only time you tried to help your neighbors, you lose some of your fight.

“Doesn’t seem like you tried very hard,” Tim adds under his breath.

You laugh once and shake your head. “I told the police your dad was beating you, Tim. You know what happened? They came and asked him about it. He denied everything. After they left, he took you out into the backyard and demanded to know who you told. So, see if you can wrap your cop brain about why I was scared to tell on someone else.”

“I didn’t know you-“

“You didn’t know anything, Tim.”

Tim scoffs and argues, “Oh and you know so much about who I am now because of what my sister tells my mom?”

“At least I talk to your mom, Tim,” you snap. Immediately, you regret it. “I’m sorry,” you offer.

“I couldn’t,” Tim defends.

“Did you try?”

Tim’s truck rumbles as his mother returns from the store, and you hold Tim’s stare until the engine shuts off.

“Can I leave now, or do you want to blame me for something else?”

Tim steps back and opens his mouth, but you storm past him before he can say anything else. You return to your house after you hug Mrs. Bradford and tell her about the cookies. The idea of Tim Bradford that you’ve clung to since childhood is growing fuzzy around the edges, and alone in your house, you cry over what he told you today, the mistakes you made, and the loss of the Tim you were born to love.

Someone knocks on your door the following morning, and you stare at it rather than walking toward it.

“Sweetheart, it’s me,” Mrs. Bradford calls.

With a sigh, you stand and invite her in, not caring if she notices your teary eyes or unusual attitude.

“I thought you might want someone to talk to. Somewhere away from my son,” she explains as she leads you to your dining table. “So, I brought food and company. Choose what you want.”

“It’s not just Tim,” you explain. “I mean… he was right, but it’s different.”

“Different than when you fell in love with him?” she guesses.

You look up at her, wide-eyed at her question. She smiles and gestures for you to continue.

“I’ve been dreaming about him coming back, thinking that we could pick up where we left off, but he’s nothing like what I remember.”

“Time will do that,” she soothes, taking your hand over the table.

“It didn’t do it to me.”

“Sweetheart… you didn’t let it. I love you, you know that, but you cling so tightly to the past, to the familiar, that you haven’t allowed yourself to adapt to the beauty of the growth and changes around you. Haven’t even let yourself show the woman you’ve become.”

You lick your lips before sniffling and asking, “What if I don’t like it?”

“But what if you thrive in it?”

Wiping the back of your free hand across your face, you clear your tears and nod. You know that Mrs. Bradford is right, but you also know that there will be pain in the beauty when you choose to move forward.

“Does he hate me?” you whisper.

“Timothy? I don’t think he could ever hate you.”

“He can sure blame me for a lot, though,” you point out with a wet laugh.

“Beating himself up over that at the moment, if you’re wondering. And, when you’re ready to talk to him, maybe you should try getting to know who he is today.”

You nod and pull a homemade candy from her special-made meal. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. Now, are we going to keep crying over silly boys or try to solve a murder mystery on a pioneer plantation?”

Dressed in your favorite outfit, you shift from foot to foot on Mrs. Bradford’s porch as you try to get your courage up. Just as you lift your hand to knock, a throat clears behind you. You spin around quickly, then release a breath and press your hand over your racing heart.

“You could have told me you were back there sooner,” you point out softly.

“I wanted to see where this was going,” Tim answers, closing his tailgate. “Listen, about the other day-“

You raise your hand to silence Tim and shake your hand. “I came over here to talk to you. About more than that. Do you maybe want to go somewhere to do that?”

Tim nods and opens the passenger door of his truck, offering his hand as he helps you in without a word. The drive to the local high school football field is quick but silent, and when you exit the truck and join Tim on the tailgate to watch the sunset, you take a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of that with your dad, the house, Frank, all that,” you begin. “But I’m sorrier that I didn’t do more back then.”

Tim nods and says, “You were right. They wouldn’t have listened, or it would’ve spooked my dad and made everything worse.”

“I guess we’ll never know.” You look at Tim’s profile and ask, “Are you okay?”

“No,” he admits without hesitation. “My dad was protecting Monica. He never did anything to protect us, but his mistress – broke half a dozen laws for her.”

“I knew that, too,” you whisper. “My mom made me stop sitting by the door after that year, which was probably a good thing. Uhm, are they going to prosecute your dad?”

“No. Not on his death bad. But it doesn’t matter. He’ll get judged soon enough.”

You nod, your eyes still on Tim rather than the pink sunset before you. His eyes have teared up, and everything inside of you begs for you to just let go.

“Tim, you’re nothing like him. You know that, right?”

Tim nods a tiny movement that breaks your heart. This isn’t the Tim you remember, not the Tim from elementary school or the one who was punished for your ill-conceived attempt to help. Most importantly, you realize, this isn’t the Tim you’ve dreamed of loving. Tim Bradford, the man before you, is who you can love, want to love, and desperately, wholly, devastatingly need to love.

With a deep breath, you release everything you’ve been holding onto. Your grip on your dreams, on your memory of Tim and what you thought you wanted, and the moment that trapped you in your position of being terrified to do the wrong thing in your efforts to do good weakens, and you feel like a flower in bloom. Everything seems new, the possibilities are endless, and you’re a new person who isn’t afraid to do right, even when it terrifies you and carries the potential to break your heart.

“Tim,” you whisper.

He turns toward you, drawn by the tone in your voice, and blinks past his tears. You shift on his tailgate and raise your arms toward his shoulders. Tim leans forward and meets you halfway, pulling you into his lap as you collapse into a hug that heals the broken edges of who you are. With Tim’s arms against your back and waist, you feel more at home than ever, and he feels the same. His mother’s house was never the home he was returning to, but a pursuit for this feeling, right in your arms.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur against his shoulder.

He shakes his head, tightening his grip on you, and this version of you - unafraid, complete in Tim Bradford’s arms - is ready to thrive. You won’t heal overnight; neither of you will, but it’s a start.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and Tim laughs against your neck before he pulls back gently to retrieve his phone from his pocket.

“My mom,” he tells you. “If you haven’t kissed her yet, what are you waiting for? Another set of wrinkles?”

You fail to stop the laugh that escapes at Mrs. Bradford’s bluntness. Then, you realize how glad you are that he’s reading her text messages.

“Well?” you ask. “Should we kiss or wait for more wrinkles?”

Tim pushes a stray hair out of your face and promises, “None of it was your fault.”

You nod and thank him, then brush your thumbs against his cheeks. “Last time we were on a field together, it was raining. I also wanted you to kiss me then.”

“You never told me.”

“How was I supposed to tell you that, Tim?” you ask. “I… I was caught up in an idea of who we could be, and I was scared to ruin it by doing something new.”

“And now?”

Rather than asking for what you want, you take it as you lean forward and kiss Tim. One of his hands moves to the back of your neck, and the first raindrop feels suspiciously like a teardrop as it runs down your face and onto Tim’s. You laugh as you run toward the truck doors, thunder rumbling as a storm approaches from the west. In the truck with Tim, you find yourself face-to-face with a better version of the dream life you craved in Tim’s absence.

Bonus:

“Get inside, it’s going to start raining again!” Mrs. Bradford calls from the kitchen when she hears the door open. “Don’t need you catching a cold on your time off, Timothy.”

You press your lips together and smile at Tim, who is drenched after offering you his jacket to hold over your head in a poor attempt to stay somewhat dry.

“She’s going to mother you, too,” he points out.

“Hey, I’m used to it,” you reply. “Like it, even.”

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Bradford murmurs as she appears in the doorway. “Go get dried off and change, Tim.”

After he disappears into his room, Mrs. Bradford offers you a towel and a change of clothes. She smiles as she leans in and says, “Flowers that thrive need plenty of rain to grow, you know.”

[gojoonsaturn]

pairing: Sukuna x fem reader

wc: 4132

a/n: after Shinjuku Sukuna didn’t die and made a peace with jujutsu world, also Gojo is alive. You could choose in which form you want to see Sukuna. english is not my first language, so i'm sorry about mistakes :(

warnings: pregnancy, slight mention of sex, I guess I made OOC Sukuna, you decide)) childbirth, angst, fluff, little jealousy Sukuna

On the evening’s dinner, Sukuna noticed your pale face and bags under your eyes. With a forced smile, you set a plate before him, bowing low to him. The King of Curses grabbed your elbow, his eyes narrowing in scrutiny. You stared at Sukuna, who regarded you with an intent gaze. 

“My Lord!”

Uraume materialized from out of nowhere, literally saving you from Ryomen’s attention. They gestured towards the exit from the dining hall, and you bowed again to your master, leaving the room.

“What’s wrong with the girl?” He asked annoyingly.

“Food poisoning, I guess.” Uraume replied with a chuckle and tried not to show their concern in front of the King.

“I want you to take care of her. She looks terrible.” Sukuna sat down to dinner.

You were alone in your room when a knock came on the door. Heart racing, you opened it and allowed Uraume enter.

“I said you had food poisoning, but you must understand that you can’t hide it from Lord Sukuna.” They remained as stoic as ever, yet you detected concern in their eyes.

“I know, but… You are aware of his stance on children. In fact, I have heard he ate children in the Heian era…”

“That’s true. It’s a mystery how he could get you pregnant. I thought curses could not procreate. Perhaps there is something special about you…”

“I think he wouldn’t believe me that I didn’t sleep with anyone else besides him...”

“But you are his concubine. No one would dare to lay a hand on you.”

You gently stroked your belly, remembering the day when you found out you were pregnant. Two months ago, afraid, you went to Uraume to share the news. At first, they were confused, but there was something inside them, that wanted to help. They gave you permission to rest more and take time off from your duties.

“Rest and sleep well. Lord Sukuna wants you to be healthy.”

“Thank you, Uraume.”

Two days ago, you took an evening bath. As you sank into the water, you closed your eyes, stroking your abdomen and calming yourself. Suddenly, a pair of hands settled on your shoulders. Opening your eyes, you encountered Sukuna's tranquil gaze.

“Are you feeling better now?”

He approached you and seated himself at the edge of the bathtub.

“Y-yes… Much better.” You replied.

“I want you in my chambers today. Will you come?”

“Of course. As you wish, my King.”

You attempted to hide beneath the foam, but he watched you with amusement, noting some change in you, though his sharp red eyes failed to detect it.

In the third month of your pregnancy, you began to wear loose robes. Your abdomen was already visible, and the fabric served as a means of concealing your condition from the King. After that night he preferred to see you oftener in his chambers, but suddenly became gentler during the sex. You feared that he knew about your pregnancy, but Uraume reassured you of his unaware. 

Sukuna couldn’t tell what about you had started to captivate him. Previously, he appreciated your slim figure and pale complexion, but your weight gain suited you well, arousing a sense of desire within him.

One night with the King, you woke up with a sweet craving. You carefully slipped out of Ryomen's embrace and went to the kitchen but found nothing satisfying.

“What do you need?” Sukuna’s voice startled you.

“Uhm… Just some water.”

The King approached a jug of water, poured a glass and gave it to you.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

You accepted the glass of water from his hand and took a small sip, averting your gaze from Sukuna's.

“What?” You inquired softly, forcing a smile.

“What are you hiding from me, girl?”

“Why do you suppose so?”

“Because you’ve changed, and I cannot discern in what way.”

“I believe I have gained a slight weight. If you are displeased…”

“No. I find you more appealing this way.” He interrupted you and came closer, inhaling your scent.

Suddenly he grabbed your arm and placed his hand on your abdomen.

“What the…” He didn’t finish the sentence.

“My Lord!” Uraume called him. In their eyes was a fear for you.

“Who did you sleep with, brat?”

“No one… Just you, my King…” You looked at him confidently.

“The curses cannot procreate, and you know this, Uraume!” His voice began to tremble.

“I do, my Lord. However, I assure you that she has not lain with anyone else. I know that’s hard to believe, but something in her bloodline made it possible. I swear to you, this is your child, my King!”

Sukuna gazed at you in silence, but despite your fear you didn’t look away. Your breathing became steadier and the posture exuded confidence. Suddenly, you noticed a discernible change in the King's gaze. Both you and Uraume exchanged glances, and they nodded to you, gesturing towards exit from the kitchen.

You were unaware of their conversation, but you decided to return to your chambers. Your heart was still racing, preventing you from falling asleep. As your consciousness began to fade, you felt a touch on your waist. Opening your eyes, you turned around and found Sukuna there. He gently rested his chin on your shoulder, with his red eyes closed.

In the fourth month, the other concubines stared at you in disbelief, unable to believe that you had conceived a child with the master. However, you and Sukuna ignored their whispers and often allowed yourself to be seen together. Sukuna stopped visiting other women and spent every night with you. He enjoyed touching your abdomen and leaning against it, listening to the sound of the child's heartbeat. It was a true miracle, and sometimes he found it hardly to believe in his future heir.

“What’s in you, woman?...”  He asked, caressing your belly gently.

“Your child, my Lord.” You replied with a laugh.

“No, I mean… Why you of all concubines?”

“I cannot say for sure. But I believe it’s a blessing.”

“Yeah. He will be the extraordinary.” He said, and you saw the sparkle in his eyes.

“Or she.” You added carefully.

Sukuna’s expression shifted, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind.

“Or she.” Finally, he nodded in agreement, accepting the possibility of having a daughter.

One day, in the fifth month of your pregnancy, you two had a small fight. The King saw you laughing with another servant, and his rage was palpable. Sukuna seized your arm, pulling you away from the man. Then he approached the servant with a murderous glare.

“If you ever talk to her again, I will tear out your throat, do you understand?” Ryomen demanded, his nostrils flared.

“My Lord, your… she just wanted to know what could alleviate her backache…” The man was skilled in medicine, and the other concubines asked him for advice on health matters.

“My King, it’s true. Adrien was a doctor, and I inquired about my pain. Nothing else.”

Sukuna’s gaze softened slightly.

“There is no need for servants to give medical advice. I can offer you the services of a professional doctors.” Sukuna said, his chest rising and falling with each breath, but his eyes held a hint of relief. “Leave us” He released the man

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in pain? Uraume can accompany you to the doctor.”

“Because there is nothing serious about it! Every pregnant woman experiences pain and cramps, Sukuna!” You began to yell at him, but quickly stopped yourself, covering your mouth with your hand. “I’m sorry, my Lord. It’s just…”

“I understand. Your hormones and all that. Uraume has told me.” He replied.

You smiled at him and placed your hand on his cheek. His breathing softened, and the anger in his eyes started to fade.

“Come to my chambers tonight. I will attempt to alleviate your discomfort.” You stared at him in astonishment but nodded and left the hall.

That evening you arrived at Ryomen’s chambers, but didn’t find him there. A dim light emanated from the bathroom door.

“Come here…” You heard from the bathroom.

Opening the door, you saw Sukuna standing by the bathtub. The air was filled with lavender scent which you adored.

“I was told that lavender can help relax your muscles, so… Please, welcome!” His tone was softer and more caring than you had heard before.

He assisted you in removing your robe and guided you into the tub.

“And you?...” You asked playfully, not letting his hand go free.

“I wasn’t planning on it...”

“Please. I want you by my side.” Your voice deepened, and Sukuna couldn’t resist your allure any longer.

He sat behind you, leaning your body against his torso. His fingers began massaging your back, providing relief from the tension you'd felt for weeks. Ryomen kissed your shoulder, moving up to your neck, eliciting a soft moan from you. You turned towards him, taking his chin in your hand and returning his kiss on the lips. Sukuna wasn't accustomed to such open displays of affection, but he couldn't deny the pleasure he felt in that moment.

For about an hour, you two sat like this, until your skin began to prickle with goosebumps from the cooling water.

“Darling, we need to get out. You’ll catch a cold.” Sukuna said.

“Mhm… It’s so nice with you here. Will you stay with me tonight?” You murmured into his ear.

“I will.” He replied.

He lifted you from the tub, helped you dry off with a towel, and carried you to bed.

“Are your back better now?”

“Mhm. Much better.”

You snuggled into his embrace and started to fall asleep. But suddenly you leapt up in bed, looking at the King with amazement and placing your hand on the abdomen.

“What? Is there something wrong with the child? I’ll call Uraume.” Ryomen asked, getting out of bed and heading for the door.

“No, no! Wait!”

You reached him and placed his hand on your belly.

“Do you feel that?”

At first, Sukuna looked at you in confusion, then he felt the child’s kicking in your womb.

“Wow… That’s… incredible.” He said, starting to move his hand over your abdomen following the baby’s movements.

“Would you like to know its gender?” He inquired with amusement.

“W-what? How can you…” You felt your hands and lips trembling. “One part of me wishes to know, but the other…” You bit your lower lip and hesitantly gazed at Sukuna.

“Let it be a surprise for you. But anytime you wish to know, I shall answer, my love.”

You were in the middle of sixth month of your pregnancy when Satoru Gojo arranged a meeting with Sukuna. The King of Curses was not enthusiastic about the meeting but had no choice. The servants set up a table, which you decorated with flowers. Although Sukuna didn’t like to share details of that battle, you heard enough about the famous and strongest jujutsu sorcerer. You were very curious about him.

Near the evening, you heard servants whispering about the arrival of the sorcerer. You glanced at Sukuna and made a move towards the exit.

“Stay with me, please.” Sukuna said suddenly, his voice demanding. His tone was colder, yet in his eyes you saw a hint of vulnerability.

You nodded subtly and took a seat at the table next to Ryomen.

In the dining room, a tall man with snow-white hair and a blindfold entered. He sat before Sukuna, his lips curling into a barely noticeable smile.

“I prefer to see your eyes, sorcerer. Or are you ashamed of your no longer perfectly blue eyes?” Sukuna's voice carried an ironic tone.

Satoru Gojo removed his blindfold, revealing one eye that was black and the other ocean blue. You were uncomfortable and tried to avert your gaze from him.

“There are rumors in the jujutsu world that one of your concubines is carrying your child. Is this true?” Gojo asked.

You looked at Sukuna with a fear in your eyes, and your hand unconsciously moved to your abdomen.

“And so what?” Sukuna appeared confident.

“Do you allow yourself to be fooled?”

“Better shut your mouth or you’ll lose your other eye too. This child is mine.”

“But the curses can’t…” The sorcerer attempted to interrupt Sukuna, but Ryomen cut him off.

“I am the King of Curses.” He said, not wanting to admit there was something special about you.

Gojo continued.

“Anyway. We want to take the child and analyze it. After it’s birth, of course.”

“Are you so foolish to enter my home and speak to me like that?! Have you forgotten the way I brought you to your knees? How you all begged for that damn peace. And yet, here you are at my table with the mother of my child, asking for it to be taken away?” Ryomen was enraged, but Gojo showed no fear. “You will all suffer again, and there will be no more peace. I’ll burn this world if you or any of your stupid sorcerers dare harm my woman or our child.”

“Do you remember the terms of the peace? If you attempt to start the war again, you will die.” You looked at Sukuna, but he didn’t look back.

��I don’t care about myself or jujutsu. This woman and our heir are my priority now.” He took your hand under the table, without looking at you again.

“Well, I warned them! Shall we finally start dinner? I’m starving from my journey from Tokyo. Your estate is far from the capital.”

You and Ryomen exchanged glances. Gojo began to eat, and when he saw that neither of you was eating either, he paused in his chewing.

“Oh! By the way, nice to meet you!” He greeted you with a wave of his hand, which you responded to with a slow nod.

Sukuna gestured to the food and began the meal. He and Gojo engaged in a brief exchange of news about the jujutsu world. Following the events in Shinjuku, all the curses had split into two groups. One group under Sukuna's protection, was spared from exorcism by the sorcerers as they were not considered a threat anymore. The other group, however, refused to accept the peace, believing it was a humiliating condition for their King. These curses became increasingly radical, making themselves targets for the sorcerers because of their violent actions towards humanity.

“Who knows, perhaps your son will be the one to unite them.” Satoru remarked, leaving you and Ryomen staring at him in confusion.

“Actually, I didn’t reveal the child’s gender to her. You as always can’t keep your mouth shut, Gojo.” Sukuna rolled his eyes and stared at you with an apologetic smile. “I apologize, my dear. Maybe I have deprived him of one eye, but the other is still functioning.”

“Oops! I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry, my lady!” Gojo covered his mouth with a hand.

“It’s alright. Never mind.” You smiled at Satoru and glanced down at your abdomen.

After the meal, Sukuna asked the servants to take you to his chambers. He remained with Gojo, his demeanor intense. An hour later he returned to you and reclined beside you on the bed, covering his eyes with a hand.

“Are you well?” You inquired softly.

“Mhm. I am just tired from Gojo's presence. He can be quite irritating. But still…” Sukuna hummed in response.

He shifted to the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes.

“The higher-ups seek to take our child. Gojo came to warn me. While he may not be foolish enough to start another war, he is powerless against them.”

“I see.” You felt a deep sense of dread upon hearing this revelation. However, you did not want to reveal your fear to him. “I understand that you don’t need me to act rashly, so… if you suddenly need my help or at least my support, I’ll be there for you, ready to protect our son with my life...”

Ryomen glanced at you, noticing the determination shining in your gaze. He embraced you and placed a kiss on your forehead.

Sometimes, you and Sukuna spent nights apart from each other. There were no arguments or any other issues. You simply desired some space for yourself and also for your King. It was your seventh month, when you didn’t appear in his chambers for an entire week. He also refrained from pressuring you, but the absence of you and of the sound of child's heartbeat was excruciating. At midnight, he approached your chamber door and softly knocked. You opened and quickly brushed away the tears from your face.

“What happened?” Sukuna stopped your hand and looked at you impatiently.

“Nothing. Everything is fine.” Your voice trembled.

“Don’t lie to me, woman. I thought we trust each other.”

“We do, my Lord! We do!...”

“Then tell me, why you’re upset?”

You invited him into your chambers, and the two of you settled on the bed.

“A week ago, I had a nightmare. There were our son and jujutsu sorcerers. They…” You couldn’t continue, so Sukuna silenced you and wiped away your tears.

“Why didn’t you tell me?...” He asked softly.

“Because it was foolish. You told me you would handle it. And I didn’t want to bother you.”

“How stupid of you. Listen to me. We are together. You are carrying our child. Your problems are my responsibility. You shouldn’t have to struggle alone with these matters. Do you understand?”

You nodded at him and buried yourself in his embrace.

After breakfast on your eighth month, Sukuna led you somewhere with your eyes closed. Besides, you heard Uraume’s voice.

“Everything is ready, my Lord.” They said.

“What is it?” You asked with a soft smile, touching Ryomen’s hands over your eyes.

“You’ll see, my love.” He replied, kissing your shoulder and gently guiding you forward.

You heard a door open, and Sukuna finally removed his hands from your face. You were in a spacious room with midnight-black walls and a rug on the floor. To the left, there was a large crib with a canopy and above it hung a star-shaped mobile. Beneath the crib stood a basket filled with toys. There was also a baby dresser, a small couch and a changing table.

“It’s not perfect, but you can add something from yourself.” Sukuna said, surveying the room.

“No! It’s… amazing.” You said, tears welled up in your eyes as you looked around. “Did you do it all yourself?”

“Uraume assisted me.” He said, gesturing to his subordinate with a grateful nod.

“But it was the King’s idea.” They said with a smile, leaving the room.

Sukuna settled you on the couch and you gazed around in astonishment.

“I also wanted to ask for advice. Yesterday I visited Gojo, and he offered to teach our child when the first signs of his cursed technique appear, under our terms, but under his supervision.”

You took a deep breath and looked at Ryomen.

“And what do you think?” You asked softly, your hand on your abdomen.

“I don’t trust the higher-ups, but I believe Gojo. If he says there is no danger to our son under his protection… I suppose I can trust him.” He just shrugged his shoulders.

“If you agree, I agree too. Together, right?” You said, taking his hand in yours and smiling at him.

Sukuna leaned over and kissed your forehead.

In the ninth month, the entire estate was waiting for the imminent arrival of the King’s child. Sukuna's nerves were on edge, and he followed your every move with heightened attention.

“You don’t need to escort me everywhere, you know?” You teased him one day during a leisurely walk in the garden.

It was a cool sunny day, with the wind playing with your hair, so that you were constantly trying to brush it out of your face. Because of your skinny, your abdomen appeared larger than it actually was, and it felt heavy to you. Sukuna always offered his arm to support you while you walked. As the birth drew nearer, you began spending more time outdoors in the garden. The warm weather and the scent of the flowers that you had planted brought you immense joy. Your son seemed to enjoy these outings as well, for you could feel his kicks against your abdomen as you walked.

“But our child will soon be born, and I do not want you to be alone in that moment.”

“Look, our daddy is worried about us!” You told your abdomen.

“Of course I am worried! Who wouldn’t be?” Sukuna said offended.

Suddenly you bent over with a groan. Ryomen called out to Uraume and they materialized from thin air.

“Just kidding!” You exclaimed, raising your hands in self-defense, your face twisted in a guilty smile.

Sukuna rolled his eyes at you and clicked his tongue at you.

Later that day, the two of you shared a meal, discussing the name of your child.

“I like Katsuo*.” Ryomen suggested.

“And what about Ren*?” You asked with a grin.

Sukuna frowned and thought about the name.

“Nah, it’s too widespread. I suggest we wait until we see the child and then decide.”

You nodded in agreement, and the two of you continued enjoying your dinner. Afterwards, he escorted you to your room, promising to join you soon. You took a bath and were ready for bed, when you felt a sharp pain. Looking down, you saw water pooling around your feet.

“Oh no, no!” You cried out to Uraume with a broken voice.

They appeared immediately, staring at your leaking water in confusion.

“Please, call Sukuna!” You demanded.

“I can’t. The King left the estate and should return by midnight. I’ll fetch the midwives, they shall assist you.”

With Uraume’s departure, you attempted to reach for the bed. The agony subsided, and you began to breathe. As the two midwives entered the room, contractions returned. The women assisted you in a comfortable position, murmuring instructions into your ears. The pain intensified, and you felt warm tears trickling down your cheeks.

“I want Sukuna… Please, bring him here. I can’t do this without him!” You wailed, clutching the sheet in your fists.

Your vision blurred from the tears, and you saw Uraume disappearing again.

You didn’t realize how much time had passed when you felt Sukuna’s hand gently encircle yours.

“Hi, babe. I’m here with you, my love.” His soothing voice resonated.

“My Lord!...” You expressed your joy, but another pang elicited a groan from you.

You didn’t hear what he said to the midwives, but he leaned close to your ear and whispered softly, “I need you to breathe deeply and follow these women's instructions. Everything will be alright.”

You nodded at him and began to breathe in and out, holding his hands. When the next contraction came, you squeezed his hand so tightly that both of you heard snap of Sukuna’s finger.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry…” You looked scared, but Ryomen’s gaze remained calm and cool.

“It’s okay, my love.” He laughed at you and restored his broken finger.

When one of the midwives announced that she could see the head, you felt a brief moment of relief. But then the other woman urged you to push harder, and you threw your head back, your forehead uncomfortably sticky. Sukuna brushed your hair away from your forehead, gently caressing your shoulder and pressing kisses to your damp cheeks.

“It hurts! It hurts so much…” You felt as if every bone in your body were breaking.

“I know… But you are doing great!”

“Mhm…”

Time lost all meaning, but when you heard the child's cry, relief flooded through you. You saw the midwife hand Sukuna your son, and you smiled at both of them. Ryomen laid the child on your chest, settling beside you.

“This is our son. This is your mother.” The King said, presenting the child to you and bestowing a kiss upon your forehead.

“And here is your dad.” You cooed, feeling a hint of trepidation as you touched your child for the first time.

Your gaze fell upon the marks on his face, reminiscent of those on Sukuna’s. However, they vanished the moment you held him in your arms. Your son bore a striking resemblance to Ryomen.

“I guess, his name should be Taro*.” Sukuna suggested.

“Taro?” You questioned, receiving confirmation from him with a nod.

In that moment, everyone in the room sensed the need for privacy, leaving the three of you alone. You smiled at these two essential figures in your life, finally finding peace within yourself. ____________________________________________________

* Katsuo means victory and hero.

* Ren means lotus.

* Taro means great son.

[tixdixl]

"Prepare yourself to be entertained!"

Groovification: [LOCKED]

Set to Home Screen: Let the show begin!

Home Transition 1: To think I'd let myself be swept into a scam that wasn't my own? Tragic, honestly.

Home Transition 2: I'll admit, I've not had many opportunities to see theme parks growing up. I'm kind of excited.

Home, after login: This'll be my first time performing live in front of an audience. It isn't my favorite style, but I'm sure we'll have fun with it regardless.

Home Transition (Groovification): [LOCKED]

Tap Home 1: I've never seen Ace so jazzed about an opportunity to perform before. Then again, he does always prefer an easy road over hard work, so maybe he'll learn something from all of this.

Tap Home 2: Vil seems to be trying to hide that she's having fun. I wonder if she even knows that her eyes are smiling, even when she isn't.

Tap Home 3: You'd think the Tweels would be miffed at the idea of becoming someone's pawns. And yet... I swear, they both seem like they are having the time of their lives.

Tap Home 4: Leona fell asleep on one of the park benches again. No, he won't wake up. Lilia already tried.

Tap Home 5: I keep seeing Fellow Honest shooting me this look... like he knows that I know he's suspicious and a terrible con artist. I can't tell though if he's amused, frustrated, or a mix of both.

Tap Home (Groovification): [LOCKED]

~~~

This design went through SEVERAL drafts before I finally decided on the final look, and even then, I ended up editing it in post. I'm aware that most of the SR cards are designed to look like drum majors or nut crackers, but that sort of vibe really really doesn't suit René at all.

I will also be the first to admit that I drew insp not only from Black Butler but also older 2000s-2010s dance competition garments that I'd definitely seen my former teammates wear at competitions back in the day. I keep looking at this and having flash backs. 😅🤣

~~~

Tag list: @ramshacklerumble @starry-night-rose @thehollowwriter @elenauaurs @rainesol

@inmateofthemind @cyanide-latte @blithesharem @theleechyskrunkly @boopshoops

@the-trinket-witch @lumdays

Lmk if you want added/removed

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

I hope you don't mind me asking this, but why do you like Celegorm? I love that you're vocal about how stupid the Feanorian woobification in this fandom is because people who claim that they did nothing wrong or that they're not villains clearly hasn't read the Silm, but while there's still a level of sympathy to most of them, Celegorm is just genuinely the worst and I can't figure out what there is to appreciate about him lol. I'm sorry if this comes across as a bad-faith question, I really want to know how you like him while not ignoring, trying to deny, or worst trying to justify (which I have seen FAR too many people doing) his canon actions

you're totally good anon! i'd be happy to answer this. just want to preface, i perfectly get where you're coming from and why people hate celegorm, because he is, as you say, the worst. he's horrible. he's done awful things to countless people -- and by no means is he the only feanorian to have done that, obviously, but celegorm's actions in luthien's story make him a type of squicky that's unique even among the brothers. he, hm. how can i put this. he deserves nothing. and yes, people who try to justify him are just wrong. stop reading the silm if you want a mass murdering sexual predator to be glorified ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

that said! the succinct answer is that it's all about the vibes lol. all the feanorians are awful people, but celegorm is, imo, that particularly entertaining kind of awful. there's a certain interplay between his successes and failures that i find unbearably endearing (derogatory). he is canonically charming and magnetic and charismatic enough to sway people with his rhetoric, and i love that. i love that he's opportunistic, clever, and sly, and pounces on the chance when he spots it. the fact that his speech in nargothrond is explicitly paralleled with feanor's before the flight of the noldor says a lot. i find it compelling that while, in many ways, celegorm is the most distant from his family -- friend of a vala, a great woodsman and hunter which are two things that neither his father nor his brothers are ever even mentioned around -- he is the only one among the sons of feanor to be directly, textually compared to feanor, and feanor during one of his most pivotal and infamous moments, no less. the guy must be a force of nature when he really wants to be. yet at the same time, he's endlessly reckless, arrogant, and shortsighted, and he does not get to get away with his actions. his plans flop (just like he will continue to flop until his karmic and also really fucking funny death in about thirty years' time, i'll get back to that), his intentions are discerned, and he gets thrown out in disgrace for treachery with the embarrassing declaration "a maiden had dared that which the sons of feanor had not dared to do" following after him. it's that particular blend of hyper-competence followed hand-in-hand by prompt abject failure and humiliation that makes him so appealing to me.

oh and. another thing about celegorm is that he has the added charm of being a fucking sore loser and a petty bitch -- trying to kill luthien even though she spares his brother's life when she'd be justified throttling him and curufin with her bare hands and i just. he's sooo funny. what is wrong with him. so many things are wrong with him. tfw you kidnap and tried to rape this woman and she does you an untold, absolutely herculean grace and kindness that you know damn well you do not deserve and your reaction is to try to kill her for daring to show you compassion. he's insane.

then. then then then then. he gets chased by own dog and runs away "in terror." you know you've messed up when your dog finally has enough of your bullshit and runs you down because he's fed up with all the terrible things you've been doing. not to mention his dog also dies fighting next to a man that he hates, using his last opportunity of speech to say goodbye to said man. like. beren and luthien's story leaves celegorm, as skilled and magnetic as he canonically is, in absolute shambles and it's hilarious. how does one recover from that you may ask. and i answer one does not recover from that.

but that's not even all. after that saga of blunders he hangs around for about three decades doing absolutely nothing of note, then in his attempt to regain some relevancy winds up having the most mortifying death ever. my dude you were the "let's ambush doriath guys" spokesperson. you campaigned for that shit. this was your desire. this is what you wanted. and you walk in there and the guy who's *checks notes* THIRTY-SIX compared to your one-thousand-something KILLS YOU. elves are not developmentally matured until they're a hundred. your killer is like thirty. this is, generously speaking, about an eight year old by your standards. a fucking eight year old kills you. yes i know dior was not actually a child at the time but the fact remains that celegorm quite literally has more life experience than the entire human race and he's done in by the son of a human. then to add second insult to first insult to extreme injury, two of your brothers are also killed in this battle and in the end you all don't even achieve what the fuck you came there to do. THIS WAS YOUR PLAN. how do you lose that badly. holy hell. if i were him i'd stay in the halls of mandos forever out of pure embarrassment. you simply would never see me again. you think i'm walking out into society and showing my face around the block when an eight-year-old ended my life? nah. no sir not me

plus well. on a more serious note, dior is luthien's son. luthien, whom celegorm thought he could control, whom he saw as an object to further his aims and to lust after. he's killed by the son of the woman he tried to rape, and there's nothing more fitting than that.

so! there you have the basic rundown of why i like what's explicitly laid out about celegorm in canon. he's an objectively horrible man, it's just that i find the way he goes about being objectively horrible extremely funny. but i also think he is ripe for exploration in the realm of speculation -- and that speculation enhances what we do know about his actions during b&l and after until his death. aside from the kinslaying at alqualonde wherein all the sons of feanor participate, we see him and curufin acting unambiguously villainous a good bit before the rest of their brothers -- at the very least, they are clearly more willing to do horrible things at the point of time of b&l when compared to the likes of maedhros and maglor. like, they are out here committing actions that no sane person can rationalize as being anything other than abhorrent. it's clear that they've already given up on the idea of being "good"; they've already given up on keeping their hands clean and they've already shed whatever qualms they might have had in the past.

my thoughts on why? this is by no means canon, but tolkien does seem to like giving the legendarium's major villains some sort of arc and some type of insight into what they become (melkor gets history, sauron gets history, maedhros and maglor get history), so i don't see why celegorm should be any different. and for me, celegorm and curufin, especially celegorm, give the impression that they fell into despair and disillusionment far before the other feanorians did. and their response was to accept that they have no way of going back to the people they used to be, that they've already been rightfully damned, and if they've come this far they may as well do whatever they can to achieve what they fell so low for, because what does it matter anymore? it's part of why i think celegorm sees maedhros trying to look at beleriand and the war against morgoth from a larger perspective than just the silmarils, and both disdains and pities him for it. they've already been doomed and they already can't hope to make amends. they should do what they're here for -- and while, in celegorm's eyes, maedhros isn't willing to do what needs to be done, he is. i think that sort of mentality is fascinating. in a way, it's a self-fulfilling prophecy -- maybe if celegorm thought there was any meaning to him being better, or even just any meaning in not being nearly as awful as he resolved to be, then he wouldn't have stooped so low. but he did believe there was no hope for him, he did believe that he could never be forgiven -- and in believing that, he did go past the point of no return, beyond which he truly, legitimately couldn't hope to be forgiven. also, i just personally like the "well i'm a terrible person so i'm going to act like a terrible person"-type villains better than "oh no i'm a terrible person it makes me so sad and full of despair"-type villains (looking at you, maglor). again, none of this is canon, but it's my reading of celegorm's character, and i think it sheds some light on why he's so awful in b&l and afterwards. in his mind, it's already over for him anyway.

i hope this answered your question anon! i like celegorm, and i enjoy his character, because there are shades of a sad tale behind his descent to being the worst, he's entertaining while he's being the worst, and most crucially of all, he gets his comeuppance for being the worst in an extremely satisfying way. i definitely wouldn't like him (or the silm at all) so much if he'd been, like, successful in anything -- but thankfully he is written by an author who knows full well what an utterly reprehensible character he is. and boy does tolkien not spare him from that karma. he is simultaneously a singleminded and relentless fallen prince, a repulsive monster, and the story's laughingstock (one of them anyway). honestly, none of the feanorians tickle my brain quite like he does. i love him and i would beat him with a shoe