#can i write? jury's still out

[candycryptids]

😇- What's their best trait?

👿- What's their worst trait?

for Tuesday and Chuu

“Miss Chuu’s best trait? Mmm… You said this is an interview for your retelling of the Warriors of Light and their journey, right? I’d say it’s her unshakeable resolve. She decides she’s going to do something, and she doesn’t give up until it’s done. Ah… I’m not allowed to speak more on Miss Chuu without her presence, my apologies, mister Levraut.”

“You broke into my house,”

“Your lovely wife let me in actually,”

“To wake me up from my nap and interrogate me on my assistant,”

“Interview, Mademoiselle, not interrogate. Though I am sorry for waking you, your eyes were open so I assumed-”

“Ah-ta-ta. You wanted to know Two’s best trait right? Adaptability. Any environment, any obstacle… he’s got brains enough to figure the way through most anything. And failing that? He knows a top notch engineer in Magitek to kit him with the right tools to overcome his few shortcomings. Hey wait did you fucking call me a mad gazelle, you lop-eared scab?!”

“Thank you for your time, both of you. I have just one more question before I consider this interview complete and I let you both go back to your.. erm, busy schedules. What would you say is each others weakest trait?”

“I knew it! This IS an interrogation! Two, don’t-”

“Ah, that would be Miss Chuu’s paranoia, mister Levraut. Most of her other traits net positive gain,”

“Watch your mouth, Two.”

“That is.. ah, her paranoid trait has served to pull her out of many situations she would have landed in had they not afforded her foresight and caution to approach most situations.”

“Two’s worst trait is how I just can’t seem to keep mad at him when he finds and exploits loopholes in whatever rules I’ve set for him. And last week I asked him to bring me lunch, and he was nowhere to be seen for nearly six bells.”

“… Miss Chuu, if I may, you were in Azys La, and you called me via Linkpearl to bring you specifically egg sandwiches from the Bismark, even utilizing the Aethernet it takes time… and when I arrived at your last marked location you were nowhere to be found.”

[Duo Oc Ask Meme !]

[syn4k]

[the gang is setting up to go on a quest]

sonja: okay steve is on vacation and jordan's out sick so we need someone else to drive the flyanite. does anyone here have a driver's license

[waglington slowly raises his hand in the back]

sonja: let me rephrase: does anyone here have a LEGALLY OBTAINED driver's license

[waglington slowly lowers his hand]

andor: i drove a lawnmower once when i was 10, does that count?

sonja: probably not

martha: i can drive but i can't park it

tucker: i might be able to handle her. lemme see [stands up]

everyone at the same time: NO

[tucker sits back down grumpily]

spirit dianite, from somewhere: i've been driving for a very long time, i could do it

sonja: do you have a body?

spirit dianite: nope

sonja: damn.

waglington: you know what, i'm out. jordan and steve will kill us if anything happens to this thing and i'm not particularly in the mood for dying at the moment [gets up and leaves]

everyone:

andor: that's a good idea actually [follows suit]

sonja: how does NOBODY HERE have a driver's license we are all GROWN ADULTS

tucker: i drove a car into a telephone pole ONCE when i was 17 and the cops never let me live it down, sue me!

martha: i prefer to teleport.

waglington, poking his head back in: who needs cars when you can just fly?

sonja: we're all huge dorks and it's a serious achievement that we didn't die as soon as we turned 18

[unhinged-prosody]

Disco Elysium really rewired my brain in such a way its got me writing essays *willingly*, uh?

[moe-broey]

Brain still soup but like. I think making one or both (or more!) characters involved in relationships with each other aromantic makes the dynamic soooooo much more compelling. Because if you remove romance as a motivator, you really get down to the nitty-gritty as to WHY that character is seeking out/involved in those relationships in the first place. Whether that relationship involves romantic factors or is more of a queer platonic thing. Much to think about....

[teruthecreator]

i need to write tfs tomorrow

[megaerakles]

Got covid for the first time immediately after the public health emergency ends (go figure) and while it’s a pretty mild case it has still ruined what was supposed to be a super fun long weekend after a hard week at work. To compensate I am working on my MOST self indulgent of fic projects in which Tim Drake’s ancestors are secretly from Oz and he and the Batfam get pulled into Oz when Queen Ozma goes missing and Tim’s considered to be the next in line for the throne so they want him to rule the kingdom while they locate their queen. Now the only thing left to figure out is which bats get to be magical when in the magic realm 🤔

[suguann]

an. a little 'and-they-were-roommates' drabble series to get me back into writing because it's been an age. | masterlist | part two

It starts as a situation built off convenience: he needed someone to take care of his place while he was gone, and you needed a place to stay. 

Simon never thought he’d get anything out of it other than coming home to a house that feels lived-in and the entryway clear of envelopes from months of neglecting his mail—another voice throughout the day besides the intrusive ones in his head that spun like a carousel with the word work etched on top. 

It’s not until you show up on his doorstep, three boxes and a measly duffel bag crowding your arms, that he thinks he really should’ve thought this through better. He’ll only realize this after the fact—weeks late, sleepless nights filled with images of daisy-shaped buttons down the front of a summer dress and a smile that nearly knocks him flat off his feet.

As it is, he’ll blame it on the handful of sleepless hours from tiny airplane seats and energy drinks sleuthing through his system that clouded his judgment, then admit it’s nice coming home to a woman who looks pretty reading a book on his living room couch.

Only his soap-slick fist in his bathroom late at night will know the honest-to-God truth. That is if there was ever a god he believed in. 

He never claimed to be a good man. 

(Can anyone claim to be good in his line of work?)

Just an honest one.

So it goes something like this: he tries not to come off as an obsessed, lonely fuck (the jury is out on either) by just existing in the same space as you whenever the opportunity arises—reading the paper while you make breakfast on the stove he hasn’t touched in too long to remember when, flipping through a book Simon didn’t even know he owned while you water plants you picked up on your way from work, watching whatever you have on the telly before you both go to bed—then he’s on a plane, being shipped out to who knows where with a gun holstered to his hip.

Rinse and repeat. 

The fourth time he comes home after an assignment keeps him away longer than expected, he finds you in the kitchen, covered in flour, a cute, frilly apron tied around your waist that he’s never seen you wear before. A smile curls the edges of your mouth as you look over at him, everything in your face soft and attentive—a vision suddenly takes shape.

You with a ring on your finger, Simon calling you his little wife, getting to hold your hand whenever he feels like it, and not because yours accidentally brushed up against his. His hand fisting in your hair, bending you over the counter, your cheek covered in powdery confectionery, fingers rucking up your skirt and apron because he can.

He blinks once, twice, and the little fantasy falls apart. 

Except you’re still in his kitchen, smiling prettily and happy to see him of all things. Imagine that.

Your lashes flutter, making crescent shadows across your cheeks. “How was your trip?” you ask. “You look more tired than you usually do.”

A shrug, a dismissal. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I have some tea that might help.”

“Tea.” He repeats to fill the quiet if only to stand there a little longer, his bag still slung over his shoulder and his clothes smelling like recycled air. 

“Yeah, I got it from a friend a few weeks ago when I caught this cold that was going around the office.” Sometimes, you ramble, and he can do nothing more than let you get it out of your system—not that he minds. “I swear it’s nothing janky or anything. Just try it; it might help.”

You’re so damn earnest about it that he can’t bring himself to say no.

“Sure,” he says and watches a wide, satisfied smile stretch across your face.

It’d be easier if you weren’t so sweet and gave a sincere fuck about the comings and goings of his life. If the smell of your perfume wasn’t following Simon everywhere—sugary vanilla faintly clinging to his balaclava even after he’s washed it—as a reminder of what’s just out of his reach.

(A mindfuck is what it is.)

[teaboot]

Forgive me if you’ve already answered something similar but how do you deal with crushing guilt when you did fuck up but there’s not really anything you can do to like make amends or you’ve already done anything you could and still feel guilty?

Like I know the guilt isn’t productive at all, if anything it’s just paralyzing me, and mentally beating myself up over it isn’t actually helping anyone. But I don’t know where to go from there. Idk how to actually forgive myself, or at least be able to move on

CW FOR SELF HARM

Okay, so this is something I've had to work through for a very long time myself, and there's a few different strategies that I've used to cope and process with varying levels of success.

What I used to do was handle the "I've ruined everything and hurt people and am never going to be forgiven" feeling by hurting myself in a number of creative and stupid ways, from physical hurt (Everything you'd expect) to mental hurt (wallowing, speaking badly of myself, going over the bad thing over and over again in my head) to passive hurt (neglecting my health, not eating properly, failing to pursue good living conditions, letting others hurt me, deliberately wandering into risky situations) and despite any short-term relief or peace I got, none of it ultimately fixed anything.

At the end of the day, making myself suffer as retribution or apology didn't fix the thing I'd done and didn't make the guilt go away, and all it gave me was an additional sense of shame and isolation because now not only was I a garbage person, I was a garbage person with something to hide from my loved ones. Zero out of ten, do not recommend.

The stuff that DID help was harder and is going to sound stupid because *I thought it was stupid* until it worked for me.

First: Learn the difference between GUILT and SHAME.

GUILT is how you feel about your choices.

SHAME is how you feel about yourself.

"I was late to a date again, that was inconsiderate": GUILT. The issue can be resolved by analyzing the reason behind the action and planning steps to avoid repeating it in the future. Guilt is productive because it motivates us to improve our choices. Once you've corrected the behaviour, it's over.

A"I was late to a date again, I'm inconsiderate": SHAME. The issue can be resolved by asking ourselves:

What negative thing to I believe about myself?

What other experiences support this belief? What evidence do I have that the bad thing is true?

Do those previous experiences have anything in common? Where they actually proof of a personal lack, or did someone just tell me they were? Were my choices and actions understandable? Did I have a reason? Was I trying to hurt others, or was it a mistake, accident, or learning experience? Have I grown from that experience?

Can I forgive myself for the past? What do I need to do to forgive myself for those past events? Was I really at fault at all, or was it out of my control?

Accept that.

Your present traumas and shames often have roots in beliefs you had about yourself before the new shameful thing occurred. When you dig into resolving the issues that led to today, you can use those conclusions to work through tomorrow. This is something I learned in cognitive behavioral therapy.

There are a number of ways of unpacking these questions, but as I felt I was deliberately avoiding my thoughts and feelings, I chose to jump into them directly, and found it to be effective.

You can write things down, talk to someone, paint something, draw something, whatever. Whatever at all works for you.

My solutions was to find a comfortable place on the floor, sit down, close my eyes, and do box-breathing (in for 4, hold for 4, out for 4, hold for 4) while deliberately thinking about every upsetting memory attached to a specific bad belief that I could recall until I had nothing left to go over.

Judge and jury. Was I a bad person, or did I make a mistake? Did I have malicious intentions, or did someone accuse me of malicious intentions? Am I bad, or have I been conditioned to believe I'm bad? And at the end of it all, am I capable of better? Do I want to be better? And would a truly bad person care?

It was more emotional than I expected the first few times. Cried a lot, actually. But if I can liken it to a common feeling, it was like getting out of a very thorough shower and realizing you didn't know how dirty you were before.

The process sucks ass, no lie, but it's worth it. Like draining pus from a gnarly wound to get it healed up properly.

I'm not an expert, of course, but life has gotten better since I started. I'm better at forgiving myself, at least.

Also: Some people will never forgive others even for tiny things. Sometimes once you've done your best, you've just gotta say "fuck 'em". C'est la vie, mon amie.

Good luck, yeah?

♡

[puckbunnyera]

Just Friends | Luke Hughes

• ──────────────♡────────────── •

pairing: luke hughes x reader genre: fluff word count: 2.3k warnings: none summary: maybe you were never really just friends

notes: it's been less than 24 hours since i posted my first fic and i've already received a few asks for a part 2 so here it is. i'll link the first part here. thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read it, like it, reblog it, etc. i'm always really nervous to post my own writing so any type of interaction with it feels good to see.

also, i know the timelines of the games played in both fics don't align with the actual events in real time but we are just going to ignore that for the sake of the plot.

• ──────────────♡────────────── •

I sigh as I stand in front of my bedroom mirror, doing one last fit check before Luke arrives. I'm nervous. I come to this realization as I smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles in my shirt. Why? I couldn't tell you. It's been almost two months since the night I met Luke, and we've talked and texted almost every day since. We've even hung out multiple times since then, but I always seem to get all nervous and jittery anytime he presents the offer. My thoughts start to consume me to the point that I'm almost tempted to text him and ask for a rain check, but before I can fall too deeply into them, my attention is stolen by the two girls lying on my bed behind me.

"I still can't believe you're dating The Luke Hughes." One of my friends says causing me to turn my back towards the mirror to look at her.

"We aren't dating." I scoff. "We're-"

"Right, you're 'just friends'." My other friend interrupts, rolling her eyes and using her fingers to make air quotes as she says the words.

"We are." I shrug, moving to sit in my vanity chair so I can put on my shoes.

"You don't have to believe us if you don't want to, but he totally has the hots for you."

"It's so obvious. Any time he has the chance to get away from his job, he's calling, texting, or coming to see you. Even if it's only for a short amount of time. Those aren't typical behaviors of a guy who wants to be 'just friends'."

They continue to go on and on as if they're trying to convince a jury that they're innocent of a crime. The sound of my phone dinging from beside me on the table finally brings their rambling to an end. I pick up to find a text from Luke.

From Luke🏒: i'm here

To Luke🏒: omw

"I would love to stay and continue this conversation," I smile sarcastically as I stand up, "But my friend is waiting for me downstairs." I make sure to add extra emphasis on the word friend.

They both giggle and bid their goodbyes as I walk out of the room. When I make it downstairs to the lobby of my apartment building, Luke, in all of his handsome glory, is waiting patiently by the door.

"Ready to go?" He questions once I'm standing in front of him. I nod in confirmation and he opens the door for us, placing a gentle hand on my back to lead me out.

"What's the plan for today?" I ask once we're settled into the car.

"I need to drop off a couple of things at the dry cleaners since my brother forgot to do it," He gestures to the items in his backseat. "But then I figured we could go to dinner, catch a movie, and then maybe grab some dessert before I take you home."

"Sounds good!" I reply with a smile, with which he returns one of his own before putting the car in drive and pulling away from my apartment building.

Things are going well today. Really well. We're having fun and Luke is being as sweet as always. However, that's the only problem. Despite the stance I took in the argument with my friends, I can't help but let their words get to me. The whole evening, I've been reading too deeply into every little thing he does. Every door he holds open for me, every chair he pulls out for me, every accidental brush of our hands when we walk side-by-side. I'm trying not to let it show, but when Luke's voice rattles my thoughts and pulls me back down to Earth, I know I'm failing.

"Are you okay?" He asks as we sit in the car, waiting for the red light to turn green. "You've been pretty quiet today."

"Really?" I ask, genuinely confused because I hadn't noticed that change in my behavior. When he responds with a solemn nod, guilt rises in my chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was. It has nothing to do with you." Yet it has everything to do with him.

"Did something happen?" He pushes further.

"No, just have a lot on my mind with work and all, but I'm okay. Promise." I give him a soft smile in hopes that it will give him enough reassurance to drop the conversation. Thankfully he does, but the look in his eyes shows clearly that he doesn't believe me. "So my friends were telling me that you have a home game coming up in a couple of days against your oldest brother's team. Are you excited?" I change the subject quickly.

"Yeah," He nods, a smile gracing his features. "My parents are gonna be in town to watch us face off against each other. All three Hughes brothers on the same ice. I'm hoping it will be as exciting as everyone and the media are making it seem." He chuckles. "I'm also just really excited to see Quinn. We haven't gotten to see each other much since I moved out to Jersey and the season started. I think it'll be nice to have us all back together again, even if it's just for a couple of days."

"I bet it will be."

"I'm glad you brought this up because I've been meaning to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"Would you maybe want to come to the game?"

"Do you want me to come?" I'm praying the hopeful look in my eyes isn't obvious.

"Yeah," He nods. "I really do."

"Then I'll be there." I assure him. "The girls were talking about purchasing tickets anyways, so I'll tell them to make it three tickets instead of just the two."

"Don't worry about it. I got it covered."

"Luke, you don't have to do that." I shake my head, readying myself to argue.

"I know I don't have to, but I want to." The look he gives me makes me forget any rebuttal I had previously prepared. "Plus, I already got the tickets and the seating arrangements set up."

"And you just knew I was gonna say yes?" I reply, crossing my arms.

"No, but I was hoping you would."

"I guess some dreams really do come true." I joke.

"I guess so."

We continue to talk and joke around for the remainder of the drive. It goes by a little too quickly though, because before I know it, he's putting the car in park in front of my building. Being the gentleman that he is, he walks me all the way up to my apartment door. It's not until I have unlocked and opened the door that he finally says goodnight, placing a soft peck on my cheek before walking away. Once he has disappeared into the elevator and I'm sure he's gone, I close and lock the door.

As I'm getting ready for bed, I become aware of the slight ache in my cheeks from smiling so much. As soon as my head hits my pillow, the realization dawns on me. I am in love with Luke Hughes.

• ───────────────────────────── •

I'm still in shock at the fact that he really went all out with the tickets. My friends seem to be as well considering that they still haven't managed to pick their jaws up off the floor yet. Never in my life would I have ever expected to be seated in one of the arena's luxury suites. I feel a little bad the more I dwell on it. There are more deserving fans that could be sitting here, yet some girl who knew nothing about the sport two months ago had them handed to her at no cost.

"Hi, you must be Y/N." An unfamiliar woman's voice pulls me from my pity-party.

"Oh, hi." I greet her as I turn in her direction.

"I'm Luke's mom, Ellen." She smiles and pulls me into a quick but gentle embrace. "And this is my husband, Jim." She gestures to the man beside her.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N." He offers a hand for me to shake.

"You as well." I accept it before introducing them to my two friends, who are not-so-discreetly eavesdropping on the conversation.

We all find a seat and fall into casual conversation. Just getting to know each other and talking about this, that, and the other. Once the teams begin to make their way onto the ice, our attentions shift away from each other and onto the players.

Having admitted to my lack of knowledge of the sport before the game started, Jim and Ellen kindly explained the game to me so I would know what is going on. By the end of the first period, I'm clued in enough that I don't need it anymore and eventually, I become just as immersed in the game as the rest of them are.

It's in the second period that Luke scores a goal and we all stand up, cheering loudly with the crowd. The excitement is so high that I don't even shy away when Ellen happily pulls me into a tight hug before pulling away and continuing to cheer for her youngest son. Third period seems to go by in a flash and then the game is ending with a 6-5 win for the Devils, both Jack and Luke having contributed to the score with goals of their own.

Once the final buzzer goes off, my friends bid their farewells before heading out to go home. However, I hang back with Ellen and Jim upon the request of Luke. I follow the two down from the suite until we make it to where the locker rooms are located, waiting in the hall for the three brothers to emerge. We stand around conversing for about ten or so minutes before the men finally make their appearances.

They all embrace and greet each other as I stand back and watch with a smile. They really are a beautiful family. Once they all break away, Luke turns his attention towards me. He steps forward and reaches for me, pulling me into his arms.

"Congratulations." I speak softly as I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders, his wrapped around my waist.

"Thank you." I can hear the smile in his voice.

Time escapes me as I stand in his arms. I'm not even sure how long we've been holding onto each other. It's his brother's voice that finally has us separating.

"You must be the infamous Y/N." Quinn steps up, a smug grin on his face. "I've heard so much about you."

"I've heard a lot about you as well," I respond politely, despite the blush I'm sure I'm sporting due to his teasing tone. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Will you be joining us for dinner?" Ellen asks from where she stands, now next to Quinn.

"Oh, um," I look to Luke for an answer. He nods, a pleading look in his eyes. "Yes, I would love to." I finally reply.

With that being said, we all begin to exit the arena and head to the parking lot. We're almost to the vehicles when Luke gently grabs my hand and pulls me to a stop. Once his family is out of earshot, he begins to speak.

"This might seem random and sudden, but I've been thinking about it for a while." He starts, looking away nervously and lifting a hand to scratch the back of his neck. "And feel free to say no because I don't want you to feel like you have to say yes just because I'm asking. Or if you feel like you need time to think it over, feel free to take all of the time you need. Actually, maybe I-"

"Luke," I say his name softly, placing my hands on his reddening cheeks and forcing his gaze back to mine. His rambling comes to a halt. "Breathe."

"Sorry." He inhales deeply before releasing his breath. "I was wondering, would you be my girlfriend?"

It's my turn to take a deep breath. Out of all the things he could have said, I was not expecting this. I take a moment to gather my thoughts as a smile begins to pull at my lips.

"I would love to." I nod, my smile growing larger resulting in his own.

"Well," He takes a step closer to me. "Since you're my girlfriend now, does that mean I can kiss you?" His question flusters me but I try hard not to show it.

"Do you want to kiss me?"

"Really fucking badly."

"Then kiss me, Luke."

And so he does. His lips crash into mine in a soft but passionate kiss. As if he has waited a lifetime to do it. It's gentle yet desperate. As we finally part, he pecks my lips a few more times before pulling away completely. He opens his mouth to say something but is stopped by Jack shouting from where his family is waiting by the cars, surely having seen the whole display.

"If you two lovebirds are done sucking faces in the middle of the parking lot, I would like to leave now. I'm fucking starving." He teases.

We both turn our gazes in time to see Quinn smack the middle brother in the back of the head and both parents shaking their heads at their son's antics. Luke chuckles at the scene as he intertwines his hand with mine and begins to walk to the car. My heart flutters as I finally admit the obvious to myself. Maybe we weren't ever just friends. I mentally roll my eyes as I climb into the back seat, already picturing the two squealing girls in my head and the endless amounts of I told you so's that I'm sure to hear when I fill them in. However, when Luke slides into the car next to me and interlocks our hands once again, I can't bring myself to care. I think I like this little life.

[wanderingsoul6261]

Match has been Made

credit for gif goes to k-wame

james beaufort x reader

synopsis: Lydia plays matchmaker for James and her friend

Note: I have Jury Duty next week, so I want to try and get everything done before then, but if not, I will try to have most finished so that I can post them periodically through next week so that I can still provide y'all with content. I also want to start writing for other fandoms, such as Call of Duty, NCIS, Criminal Minds, Uncharted, etc) so if you are interested in more works, keep an eye out for those.

Not a big fan of this one honestly. Might delete it later and do a better version of it. Just didn't have any other ideas for it, so if anyone has a better way for this to have gone, let me know, and I will definitely consider redoing it after some of the others are completed.

Lydia wasn't as stupid as James and Y/N. Maybe stupid wasn't the right word, as oblivious seemed fitting, not that the two were stupid. Although, they were definitely oblivious. Lydia had wanted to strangle them both, considering how blind they were. James, staring all the time at Y/N, not thinking anyone would notice. Lydia definitely noticed. And then Y/N, not even noticing James looking at her and how long he would do so. Lydia also noticed that too. 

Many who also noticed had just thought that maybe Y/N wasn’t interested in him, but Lydia had taken to disagreeing. Y/N was a good friend of Lydia, and therefore, she was also a good friend of James. Y/N and James had initially butted heads quite often at the start of the friendship between the two girls, but over time, it had gradually stopped, and had actually turned into a playful teasing. 

Now, Lydia could tell James was smitten with Y/N just as much as she was smitten with him, and this had sparked Lydia’s plan into getting the two by themselves and admitting their feelings. 

Initially, it also meant getting their driver, Percy involved. He would have a large part to play in the plan, helping her get one or both of them to the Manor, hopefully when their parents were away on their upcoming business trip, and then leaving with Lydia. Percy and Lydia would then find something to pass a few hours by. Whether she went over to a friend’s house, or she treated Percy to a friendly night out for all his work done for the family. 

Percy was inclined to help, considering he too had noticed what was, or the lack of what was happening between James and Y/N. It didn’t matter how he spent the time afterwards. Him leaving the manor would then mean that neither James or Y/N had a way to leave. 

It was a sound plan, and Lydia knew that the probability of it working was high. 

—

“Hey! Y/N!” Y/N turned around at the sound of her name being called. Behind her, Lydia hurried over to her. She stopped, waiting for her friend to catch up so that they could walk side by side. “What are you doing tonight?” Lydia asked. Y/N shrugged. 

“Nothing really. Mom and dad are home but I don’t have anything planned with them. I was probably just going to watch some movies and call it an early night.” 

“Would you want to come over for a bit? Do some swimming. Maybe stay the night? Our parents are out of town for a few nights for a business trip.” Lydia had explained. 

“Who all is going to be there?” She had asked. 

“Just me and James, plus you. Figured the three of us could hang out without the suffocation of a party.” Lydia had explained. 

Y/N thought about it. Admittedly, getting out of the house for a little bit had seemed like a better idea. Lydia could tell she was contemplating it. The way Y/N tilted her head and bit the inside of her cheek, some of the very few mannerisms she possessed that gave away when she was truly thinking about something told her so. Mannerisms that James had appeared to have fallen in love with. 

After several moments, and pausing in the hallway of Maxton, Y/N had given Lydia her answer. 

“Alright. I’ll come over.” 

“Cool! I’ll have Percy pick you up at about 5!” Y/N agreed, telling her that that worked for her, and left her friend behind so that she could move on to her next class, which she also shared with James. 

Lydia watched as Y/N met up with James outside of their next class, a smirk on her face, and then left quickly, before either of them noticed that she was watching. 

“Hey.” James smiled at Y/N as they walked into the classroom. “So did Lydia talk to you yet?” He asked, as they set their stuff down on the shared desk and took their respective seats. “Something about just us three. Swimming. Maybe some movies. Something like that.” 

“Yea, actually. Just before I came here. I told her that I should be free to come over. She said she would send Percy later to come get me.” 

“What about your driver?” 

“Sick. I gave them a few days off.” Y/N flipped through her notes, trying to find where she left off. James watched as she did so, his eyes on her fingers as they flipped through the pages, before he turned his attention to her face. She was concentrated, focused on trying to find where she left off in her note taking. 

“What time did she tell you?” 

“Percy will be at my place at five.” He nodded slightly as she finally looked up at him. “She said I could also potentially stay the night. Mentioned something about how your parents are out of town for a business trip?” 

“Yea. Meetings with potential business partners for their next clothing line.” He explained. “They will be gone most of the week.” She nodded in understanding. James flashed her a smile, one that she had returned as their professor walked in, introducing their topic for the day.

—

Percy was a few minutes early, rolling the car in the driveway of her family manor at about quarter to five. Stepping out of the car, he greeted her politely, flashing her a small smile as she advanced over to the car. 

“Good evening, Percy.” She flashed a smile back at him, thanking him as he opened the back door for her. He had taken her overnight bag, putting it in the trunk of the car. 

“Good evening, Miss Y/L/N. I hope you are well.” 

“I am. Thank you. I hope Lydia and James are treating you well.” She teased. He flashed her a smile of amusement as another voice rang out, just as she climbed into the vehicle. 

“We are treating him just fine.” Y/N was met face to face by James, who flashed her an amused smile as she took her seat next to him. The door closed and the two flashed each other a smile. 

“Miss me?” she asked. Percy climbed into the driver side seat, putting the car into drive and taking the three of them back to the Beaufort manor. James smiled brightly at her.

“Always.” 

Percy watched them from the rearview mirror, taking in the interactions to the two of them. Lydia had been right, about the way the two of them look at each other. The way James looked at her when she was talking, like he wanted to take in everything she was saying and have it memorized. The way Y/N watched as he drew in his sketchbook or the way he watched her as she watched the numerous trees and other flora as they drove. Lydia was right when she told Percy all those days ago about how oblivious they were. The emotions in their faces surely show how they feel about the other, but both are too oblivious to say or do anything.  He smirked, turning his eyes back on the road. 

Arriving at the manor, Percy had stayed with the car, while James and Y/N had gotten out. James took her bag inside, handing it to another person to take to Lydia's room, where she would likely be sleeping. 

Lydia was already outside at the pool when the two finally joined her. She looked up and back at them, a smile on her face. Standing up from where she was dipping her toes into the pool, she walked over to them. She bypassed James, who only playfully rolled his eyes as she hugged Y/N. 

“Glad you can make it. You guys enjoy the water and snacks. I’m going to go and get changed. Be back in a jiffy.” And with that, Lydia was gone. James, who was already wearing some swim trunks with a t-shirt when they picked up Y/N, had taken off his shirt, leaving Y/N the only one who had yet to show her swimsuit. 

Her eyes were on James body for several seconds and had stayed focused on him for several more seconds after he had jumped into the pool.

Y/N had been smart, having put her swimsuit on underneath her clothes before Percy and James arrived at her home. She had slipped off her shirt, exposing her skin and the bikini top that she wore. James had caught sight, his eyes on her before he dipped underneath the water before she could catch him staring. When he had come back up, she had already pulled her shorts off, fully revealing herself in her two-piece bikini. 

While James slowly swam around the perimeter of the pool, Y/N relaxed on a floaty, drifting around the pool. The two relaxed like that for a little bit until one of them realized that one of them was still missing. 

“James.” He had looked over at Y/N, who now sat on the end of the pool, a water bottle in her hand. 

“Hmm?” 

“Did Lydia come out at all?” She asked. “I would have figured that she would be out here by now.” James stopped swimming, moving to stand in the shallow end of the pool. He looked past her, towards the open doors that led into the house. 

“No I haven’t.” He finally answered. His eyes drifted back towards Y/N, where some droplets of water rolled down her stomach. Her hair was wet, meaning that she had slipped into the water at some point and he didn’t notice. She tilted her head in thought, turning her body around as well to look inside the house. 

James watched as she stood up and walked over to the chairs. She didn’t find any sign that Lydia might have even been there in the first place, and no phone was found. 

“Her phone isn’t here. Maybe she has it. I can give her a call.” Y/N walked back over to her own phone, picked it up, and easily dialed Lydia’s number. James watched as she pressed her phone to her ear, but after several seconds, put her phone back down. “No answer.” 

“She’s probably okay. Probably just got caught up doing something else. Maybe she’s taking a nap so she can conserve energy for movies later.” James reassured her, and Y/N agreed. James wasn’t sure where his sister went, and it definitely wasn’t a part of their plans. 

Unless it was a part of her plans. 

Y/N shrugged and had gone back to sit on the side of the pool, her feet dangling in the water. James went back to floating around the pool. His eyes moved over to Y/N several times. They were alone and she was right there. He could say what he wanted and make his move. If he was rejected, no one would know. 

Her eyes were on the book she was reading, invested in the pages and the words that told the story within them. He hovered in the water for several moments before he finally decided to slowly make his way across the pool. 

His eyes had remained on her, watching her movements as he neared her. The way her fingers flipped to the next page. How her expression changed based on the scene she was reading. He was happy to listen to her when she went on and on about a book that was either currently reading or had just finished, having loved the way that she got so much joy and excitement from something so simple. 

When he finally reached her, his hand reached out for the book, gently setting it aside without getting it wet. Y/N was confused, a noise getting caught in the back of her throat as James put his palm on the edge of the pool, hoisting himself partially out of the water and slightly closer to her. He made eye contact with her, before he looked down at her lips. She caught the movement, relaxing as she waited. She knew what he wanted at that moment, and when he didn’t make the move first, she did. 

Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him even more closer, and pressed her lips against his. He quickly melted into it, one arm wrapping around her waist. James tugged her into the pool once more, before pinning her against the side of it. Her arms remained around his neck, while his arms looped behind her, settling the edge of the pool. 

It was a slow and gentle kiss, allowing the two to enjoy and savor it. Her hands tangled themselves into his hair, and one of his hands moved to her back, his fingers splayed across her skin. James was running out of breath, as was Y/N, but the two hesitated to separate, as both of them seemed to have wanted their first kiss together to go on longer than what was physically possible. 

And when they finally pulled away from each other, they rested their foreheads against each others, breathing heavily, a small smile on their lips. 

“Do you think Lydia left?” Y/N asked. 

“I think this was part of her plan.” James agreed. “Get us alone together. Means Percy was probably also in on it.”  Y/N laughed a little. 

“You sister, playing matchmaker, and Percy helping. Who knew.”

“My guess is that they knew something we didn’t.” He had smiled, kissing her again, this time with a bit more energy. James had stared at her lips, before moving away and planting kisses along her jaw, pressed one final one to her forehead, and then moved back down to her lips. He was kissing her like a man starved of it all.  

“How about we watch those movies?” He finally asked, after finding the heart to stop kissing Y/N and finally allowing her to breathe. She gave him a smile and nodded. 

That was how Lydia had found the two of them. They were laying on the couch in the shared living area that Lydia and James shared, the tv going on in the background. James was on his back, his head against the arm of the couch, and Y/N was asleep on his chest. Her arms wrapped around James, and a blanket was wrapped around her. 

Lydia had smirked, snapped a photo to show Percy that the plan had worked, and wandered off to get ready for bed, leaving the two by themselves.

----

taglist: @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@sillyfreakfanparty

[natalievoncatte]

“Let her go,” said Lena.

“Not a chance, said the Atomizer. Or Atomo, or the Atomic Lad. Some idiot with a cheesy atom symbol on his jumpsuit and a beam projector strapped to his arm.

Lena knew why this guy hadn’t already been mopped up by Supergirl: he wasn’t worth her time.

This was, frankly, embarrassing. She wasn’t listening to his monologue, something about losing his job after Supergirl stopped a nuclear incident and he was found out to have violated safety protocols. He’d jury-rigged himself up some kind of particle beam, probably not enough to scratch the maid of might.

He was still giving it the old college try, so he’d kidnapped Lena Luthor on the logic that whenever Lena Luthor was in danger, Supergirl was quick to appear.

She’d been sitting here for four hours, tied to a chair at the docks on the west end in some dilapidated shithole warehouse. Supergirl was decidedly a no-show.

Lena could almost write this off as an inconvenience. This dipshit meant her no harm and she was, at least a first, sure that Supergirl would show up and this would turn into one of those heartwarming ones where she didn’t have to throw a punch and the bad guy ended up forgiving her.

He should. From the bits and pieces she heard, it was his fucking fault anyway.

There was a problem. It was making Lena’s heart race, her pulse pound, and a thin trickle of sweat run down the small of her back. Kara was in a chair just like hers, parked six inches away, and tied up.

She was also drifting in and out and had a knot on her head from where Captain Doofus here whacked her over the head with his arm beamer.

Her head perked up a little and she glanced at Lena, looked around.

“Whu… where am I?”

“You’re in the lair of DOCTOR ATOMOS!” he screamed. “I thought the Kryptonian would put in an appearance to save Miss Luthor, but she’s been a no-show, so I grabbed you. You’re her best friend, aren’t you?”

Kara shot Lena a furtive glance. “Not exactly.”

“Where is she? Why hasn’t she come? Do I need to grab that photographer, too? Jim Olden?”

“James Olsen,” Lena corrected.

“Shut up! I’ve broadcast to the city that if Supergirl doesn’t face me and admit what she did, I’m going to drop you two into the acid!”

“What acid?” said Kara.

Lena looked at her and looked down. They were both sitting on hinged grates positioned above a rather large vat of a nasty corrosive. Some toxic sludge that Lex probably had the company stockpiling here back in the back-when.

He was always ruining her day.

“I gave her an ultimatum,” he declared. “First one of you, then the other.”

Lena’s stomach dropped. Hard. She almost threw up her tuna wrap and kombucha. For some reason, the thought of her own shockingly horrific death -drowning in the acid, her lungs melting from the inside with no hope once she was submerged- was secondary.

Oh God. Oh God please not Kara.

“She’s not coming,” Lena said, firmly. “She’s busy or-“

“She wasn’t too busy to ruin my life!”

Kara looked frantic as she wriggled against the ropes holding her.

“Come on, come on come on come ON!” she thrashed. “Why now? Why now?”

The ‘villain’ paused. “Why now what?”

“Nothing. Just, listen. Don’t do this. You don’t want to add murder to your list of crimes.”

“I’m INNOCENT!”

“Then don’t start a list of crimes!” Lena pleaded.

He rounded on her.

“Look,” said Lena. “I’m Lena Luthor, I’ll get you a new job. I’ll build you a fucking power plant if that’s what you want. Just,”

“What, let you go?”

Lena looked at Kara.

“Let us go. Please. I’ll stay if you let Kara go.”

He belly laughed at her. “So she can tell the cops where we are?”

“You already announced where we are!” Kara snapped.

“Don’t hurt her. Please. Just not her.”

Kara turned slowly and looked at her.

“What’s your real name?” Lena asked, looking at their captor. “You know mine.”

“Ha! That hostage negotiation crap won’t work on me.”

He turned and headed for a pair of levers.

“Eeenie meanie miney moe,” said… the guy. Lena was not giving this bastard the dignity of a trade name.

“Kara,” said Lena. She felt strangely calm, looking at her… her best friend. Like she knew she needed to do this right in whatever little time she had, and her nerves gave her the gift of tranquility.

“Lena?”

“You mean so much to me,” Lena said. “I… I just want to… I wish I could…”

Oh, now she couldn’t get the words out. Perfect.

Kara looked at her wide-eyed, and terror flashed briefly in her eyes as the grate swung below her and she plummeted into empty air.

“KARA!” Lena wailed.

Splash.

Lena screamed, a wordless, titanic cry of agony that tore her throat and burned her lungs. When it faded she wailed again, words lost to her. Oh God.

“You monster!” Lena screamed, “you miserable fucking monster, you’d better fucking kill me too, because if you let me live I’m going to-“

Lena went silent as a shape rose through the hole in the floor, rising gracefully into the air. Supergirl hovered in the air, a scowl of righteous fury carved on her lovely face.

“At last, there you are!” Professor Douchebag snarled, aiming his arm at her.

Her eyes flashed and he screamed, suddenly tugging at the red-hot ruin strapped to his arm. Supergirl landed, and dragged Lena’s chair, and Lena with it, away from the grate.

She turned and sucked in a breath, flash-freezing his ruined weapon with a concentrated blast. With a contentious smack he knocked his helmet off, revealing a doughy, middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and blood running down his nose.

Supergirl grabbed his collar and hauled him off his feet. She stalked over and held him above the opening in the floor, his feet dangling over the acid.

“Supergirl?” Lena said.

“How does it feel?” she said, coldly.

“Please,”

“Lena said please,” her voice was ice. “You didn’t listen to her.”

“Supergirl,” said Lena. “Don’t.”

Then it hit her.

Supergirl had her hair up. She never wore her hair up. It was exactly the same as…

Her mind raced though possibilities. None of them fit. There was only one conclusion.

Oh.

“Kara,” Lena whispered. “Please.”

Her gaze snapped to Lena and a harrowing moment later, she tossed the wannabe villain aside, and wrapped a chain around him, binding him to an upright. Then she turned to Lena.

Kara tapped her ear.

“Alex, you have my location? There’s a wannabe here, he kidnapped Lena. She’s fine. He’s not. Get a cleanup crew and a bus down here please. No, I’m not staying.”

With a single smooth motion, she snapped the cords binding Lena and scooped her up against her powerful chest, tucking her in close before lifting off through skylight.

Lena pressed her eyes shut- she hated flying, even like this. She opened them when she felt the jolt as Kara’s boots touched down, and Kara set her down.

They’d come in through one of the tall windows in Kara’s loft.

“Oh my God,” Lena breathed. “I thought he… I thought you were…”

“I almost was,” Kara said softly. “I solar flared a few days ago. I burned out my powers fighting that Mondarian. It usually takes a few days, maybe a week, before I can use them again, but sometimes an adrenaline rush will make them kick in early.”

“Was it hitting the acid?”

Kara shook her head.

“No. It was what you said, and the way you screamed when I fell. I knew I had to live.”

Lena blinked a few times, surprised by the hot burn of her own tears, mirrored by those falling down Kara’s cheeks.

“What you said… what I think you were trying to say,” said Kara. “Me too.”

Lena stood frozen in shock for a second, before she launched herself at Kara. Their lips met in a dizzying soft crash and when Kara’s hands landed on her waist, Lena felt a pang of fear that she’d misjudged and ruined it all.

Then Kara’s hand snaked up her back as the other looped around her waist and pulled her in, using her height to tip Lena back just a touch as the kiss deepened and Lena felt her heart flutter in her throat as her tongue tasted the soft taste of Kara.

[dduane]

Hey! Just wanted to drop in and let you know that my Star Trek Book Club is reading our way though Spock’s World right now! I love the Horta crewmember so much. Would be cool to hear any thoughts you have on the book, as its writer!

Sure!

Work on the book started while @petermorwood and I were still roaming around the UK, trying to figure out where we wanted to live.

It was around then that Pocket Books decided that the success of their first Star Trek novels as paperbacks suggested they might want to try a hardcover and see how it went. Up until that point I'd written three Trek novels for them—The Wounded Sky and My Enemy, My Ally, and with Peter, The Romulan Way—and as far as I can tell, a combination of strong sales figures and very positive reviews led the editors at Pocket to choose me to do the first hardcover.

(Adding a cut here, because this runs longish. Caution: contains severe weather, peripatetic writers, [offstage] Highland cattle, and [because hindsight is always 20/20...] author idiocy.)

If I remember correctly, the go-to-hardcover decision was made in 1987. The book's outlining would have happened in the winter of that year, while we were staying in Scotland: the post over here talks about that a littie.

Not very long after that we made our where-to-live decision, headed to Ireland, and moved into a little rented terrace house in north county Wicklow, not far from Annie McCaffrey's place. Once we were installed there, I started work on the first draft of Spock's World.

This, though, is where a tragedy almost occurred.

Electric-power infrastructure can sometimes be an issue in rural areas of Ireland. And one night, in the middle of a thunderstorm, the post-top transformer nearest us in our little housing estate was struck by lightning. The ensuing power surge (or just possibly an EMP associated with it: jury's still out...) fried my computer.

Fortunately, most of my working disks were okay. But the last 40K+ words of the novel survived only in fragmentary form... and when I tried to reassemble those chapters from the backups, I discovered that the backups were corrupt. And the book was due at the publisher—by which I mean printed and FedExed to NY: no one was equipped back then to deal with emailed manuscript files—in two weeks.

Needless to say, things around the house then got a bit frantic. I wound up having to completely rewrite nearly the entire back half of the book from memory, as I did not have a printout. (So you'll understand that for the last few decades, hard copy [or PDFs] and backups, and backups of backups, have become something of an obsession for me. These days I use Backblaze, with which I'm extremely pleased: it runs constantly in the background, updating things in realtime as you do, and has numerous smart ways to recover your material if you need it.)

At any rate, my memory's fortunately fairly good for material I've just recently written. And I have to say that in retrospect this whole escapade may have been a blessing in disguise... as I strongly believe that the rewritten material was significantly better than in the draft that would originally have gone to the publisher. The printout went to the publisher just in time to hit that particular production deadline. The only thing really messed up in the aftermath was my back, which gave me grief for months afterward. My advice on this count: never write 40K+ words in two weeks in a straight-backed chair. :/

Anyway, there was a happy ending when the book came out: it spent eight weeks on the Times list, which was nice. (In pretty good company, too...) :)

And shortly Pocket asked me to do another hardcover. So that was nice too.

Anyway, that's the tale.

Hope this has helped! And give the book club my best. :)

[charmedreincarnation]

Success story (not the void)

Maya, as I promised you, I'm writing you my success story. It's quite a wild one, so please bear with me.

My journey started during the Angel era, when I was struggling with the void state. I tried everything I could think of to get out of it - every method, every meditation technique, affirming, intention, lucid dreaming, and even coaching from various LoA experts, including those not so well-known. I was desperate for a breakthrough, a key to unlock the life I deserved. I would have done anything, even ate dirt if that was what it took.

At that time, my family was going through a rough patch. My abusive father, a police officer, divorced my mother and left us with nothing. We were homeless, living out of our car, while my dad was living a comfortable life. He had a new girlfriend, a younger woman, and continued to be respected in his job. Meanwhile, my mom, who was a victim of his abuse, was labeled a liar and lost everything. I was filled with rage, towards him, towards the world, towards the jury that declared him innocent. I wasn’t safe in this world especially being homeless, women and children are the most vulnerable to sexual and physical assault. I was scared, unsafe, and had nothing aside my mother and siblings.

I wanted to enter the void, not just for myself, but to give my family a better life and to bring justice to those who had wronged us. I was at a point where I was harming myself, but I couldn't give up because my family needed me. I remember messaging you, Maya, pouring out my story, begging you to help me enter the void. Despite your initial hesitation, you responded with kindness, sharing some personal experiences, and reassuring me that I wasn't alone.

Your words gave me hope. You made me realize that many people who find the law have gone through, or are still going through difficulties. If they could overcome their struggles, so could I.

So, I decided to let go of the void. Not because I didn't believe in it, but because I had elevated it to a status akin to a genie that would magically solve all my problems. When non-dualism and other loa concepts were introduced, everything finally clicked. I realized I didn't have to be angry, or try to be someone manifesting master, or do all these fake methods. I have always known that my family and I were meant to be happy.

For a month, I went through a process of shedding my ego. It was uncomfortable, and there were times I found myself fighting my own thoughts, telling them to shut up. I was separating my ego from myself. You, Maya, had once said that this process was similar to withdrawal symptoms of someone quitting drugs. This thought comforted me. I was becoming someone new, my old thoughts weren't there anymore.

Living in my car, I began to see it as my mansion. My mom's crying turned into laughter, my siblings' whine for food turned into jokes. We pretended that we were living our dream life, and after a while, my siblings joined me in this game. We would come "home" from school and yell at each other, pretending that the house was so big that we needed walkie-talkies to communicate.whenever I needed to steal food it was because we owned the place and can take whatever we want, not because I had to.

One day, we parked at a field, and I started imagining my life. I tried to become the clouds by thinking I am and accepting that my consciousness could be whatever it wanted. I got my siblings to do the same. We became the flowers, then the sun, then the stars at night. Even though physically I was still in the car, mentally and emotionally, I was living my dream life.

When I woke up, I was in a large room. It was decorated to perfection. I heard my siblings running around, throwing toys, and my mother laughing with a man, who's laugh alone sounded like gold. I explored the house, and it was beautiful. There was no yelling, no violence, only laughter and love. My mom introduced me to her boyfriend, and he was holding a newspaper that read that my father had been arrested for domestic crimes and fraud. He was losing everything.

At that moment, I realized that I had done it. My mom was happy, beautiful, and loved. My siblings had plenty of toys and clothes, and our house was filled with love. My family and I were finally living our dream life.

I have been living my life for about a month and now, and it has been blissful to say the least. I go to a well known private school and I am the top student. I am apart of many clubs, and also spend a lot of time volunteering at domestic shelters, and speaking to victims of intrapersonal abuse. I have made friends of people who volunteer with me, so it’s nice to have people who care about the same thing I do.

I am also apart of my writing club, and found comfort in reading and writing and have decided I want to be an author once I graduate. I have always wanted to be a writer but they don’t make enough money often. But now not only do I know I will be successful but my family has enough money to last us multiple generations plus some more. My Bio father had gotten much to what is coming to him and he will be going to jail. I hope he drops the soap but I have let go of my anger with that barbaric fool. So has my mother who has also recently gotten engaged and I get to be her maid of honor. She has a friend group of mothers from school and I have never seen her happier. My now father treats her like a goddess and treats everyone like that. He spoils my mom and us with gifts and luxurious trips. He also spoils the help such as the maids and cooks and never treats them below us. He does not expect anything from my mother except for her to be happy and spend time with us. He is kind selfless loving and respectful. the real definition of a man. I adore him so much and I’m so happy to call him my father.

I find great joy in the little stuff. I love cleaning my room. My bio dad was a hoarder and the house was always a mess because my mom was the sole provider though my “bio dad” made much more. He instead used it on hookers, alcohol, and drugs. Pathetic excuse for a man I know. I love going shopping, as I don’t have to look at the price tag. It feels normal, there was no shift. This is just life constantly changing. I have 5 pets and spend great time with all of them, and they are all so loving and adore me. I love school, and doing my homework, taking tests, assemblies etc. i love talking to my teacher about my ideas and how I can improve. They’re always so encouraging and kind, and I have never experienced that. I also loveeeee having crushes hehe. I never had time nor the “looks” for that prior to these past few months, but I receive a good amount of attention from a lot of sweet man and the “what if” aspect of having crushes is fun. I just love being a teenage girl, something I was not always able to say. I love the world and the people in it, the creations I bring and make, and all I did to make it what it is. I never worry what happened to my old self or life. It died, it doesn’t exist I am here right now with them and the old story is gone. Like an author erasing a part of a story she doesn’t like and never producing it, I did the same. My one true reality and I am so blessed.

Also big thanks to bloggers like @awarenessis @starbursts777 @consciousnessbaddie for introducing this concepts to Tumblr in a simple and kind way. Love to everyone in this devoted app.

Congratulations on your astounding success story 🥹 Your journey is a testament to the power of the human spirit, and it's an honor to hear about your transformation. This is beautiful wild tale, but it's your reality, and it's absolutely beautiful.

Your story is a powerful reminder that we have the power to shape our reality, no matter how dire our circumstances may be. It's a testament to the power of belief, determination, and the human spirit. I'm incredibly proud of you and wish you and your family all the happiness in the world.

[thegoldencontracts]

hello!! this is my first request!! can u write azul saving reader from drowning and gets angry at them out of worry? not realizing that he confessed to them just now until it sinks in?

Hiii sorry this took so long! This concept is sooo good, hope I managed to do it justice aughhh

Because-!

Summary: Azul saves you after you fall into the Octavinelle pool. You're just hoping he doesn't expect repayment- Wait, why is he so upset?

Notes: There isn't much focus on the feeling of drowning, but there's still some. Anyways, hope you enjoy! Also, credit for the divider here!

If a Darwin award existed, you were really one of the prime candidates to win it, it seemed.

You'd fallen into a pool. Actually, that was fairly normal. There was a very real risk of people falling into pools, that was why most public pools hired life-guards.

Octavinelle's pool, however, didn't abide by that policy, and so there was no one around as you'd fallen in. The panic was setting in at a rapid pace.

You couldn't breathe. Water was filling up your lungs, and you couldn't even cry out for help, and you couldn't breathe-

A splash. Someone was in the pool. Were they- here to save you?

They were approaching - closer, and closer. But you didn't get to see whether they saved you or not, because before they could even get near you, your vision went dark.

You woke up. That was good. Were you- in the afterlife or something? The silver-haired boy above you did seem angelically pretty, after all...

"You're awake."

You felt your face heat up. Nevermind. You were very much alive, and that guy you just called pretty was, in fact, Azul Ashengrotto, Octavinelle Housewarden, your crush, and maybe your friend. The jury was still out on that one. Azul never really admitted his friendships, but he gave you free stuff, so that was probably a good sign.

Would this be free, though? Even with Azul's "no free lunch" mentality, this seemed a bit too far.

"So," you started, voice hoarse. "Do you, uh, need something."

Azul looked at you for a second, expression all too void of emotion. Then, he spoke.

"What exactly were you thinking?" He demanded. "Approaching the pool in spite of your lack of ability to swim is the height of foolishness! If you truly wanted to come here, you should've simply asked me to accompany you!"

An uncharacteristically enraged Azul yelling at you was definitely- something to wake up to.

"I almost died- dude-"

"Precisely!" Azul said, eyes still burning with rage. "Were I not there, you wouldn't-"

He sighed.

"Don't do something so foolish again."

That was it? Azul Ashengrotto, not even expecting repayment? Weird.

"Listen," you said. "It's awesome that you care, but I can handle myself. I've learned my lesson."

"You quite nearly died," Azul said through grit teeth. "What if that happens once more, without me there? You'd die! And even if it weren't for my love for you, I simply cannot have-"

He cut himself off at the realization of what he'd just said. You took a second to process it too. Azul- liked you?

The universe had taken pity on you! Your crush liked you back!

"I- er, forgive me," he said, turning away his head in shame. "I suppose I got a tad carried away. Please, just allow me to accompany you the next time you come here."

"Why don't you also accompany me on a date sometime?" You said, before you could stop yourself. Azul looked at you in shock for a second, before clearing his throat.

"Are you being serious about this invitation?"

You nodded.

"Dead serious."

"Then," he said. "I'd love to accompany you."

And though you could sense he still had a lot more chastising to you, that you hadn't yet escaped scolding, nor the physical consequences of almost drowning, you couldn't help but feel oddly warm inside.

It seemed you'd found a silver lining here.

[cerastes]

It's kind of amazing that a horny game like Nikke actually included stuff like Cyberpsychosis. Nikkes going insane or committing suicide if they are reminded too much that they are actually full-conversion cyborgs. The reason why they don't have a lot of cool gadgets like built-in thrusters or weapons. And then you have someone like Snow White who replaced a large chunk of her body with enemy robot parts.

Nikke is this really cool thing to have Existing in the space, even if I don't play it anymore, because of how charmingly unbalanced it is as a whole, making the charming parts of it all the more apparent.

It's got barebones gameplay, the seams of which burst the moment you do high level content and realize there's not much it can do due to its limited concept. Combat rarely translates to whatever is going on in any story thematically, being thus gameplay being more of an abstraction. There is a gulf and an ocean of power between fellow characters of the same rarity, meaning a max rarity character might do absolutely fuck all while another one, with the same odds, might snap the game in two with ease. It's story is absolutely nothing to write home about. It's a setting that can be best described as "self-indulgent incel nice guy heaven", where your character is The Only One to be nice to all these poor second class citizen superpowered voluptuous supermodel living weapons with tits two times your head and asses big and heavy enough to easily crush cars. Everything jiggles. It's so insanely predatory with its flash sales after every little thing you do.

And yet, the basic story it tells, it tells well. It's fun. It's entertaining. It knows what it is, and it has fun with itself, but it doesn't throw all pretense, either. It walks the razor-edge thin line between having a goof and telling a story with emotional depth. What it doesn't have in complexity or originality, it makes up for in sheer moment-to-moment, with good scenes, with good execution of things we've already seen. The showdown with Modernia lives rent free in my mind, Commander loading the Vapaus round, as Modernia or Marian, no way of telling, begs them to put down the weapon, because she's already back to normal, Commander shooting, and Modernia catching it with her teeth, and then growling the most guttural threat with freshest purest fury: "You shot me. Your really shot me! Shikikan!" and then drilling Commander right through the chest. And everything that happens after in that scene. It's got interactions out the wazoo, both mundane and touching. It has music that goes from "background music that really works" to "handcrafted for the moment and the character in its excellence". I think it's because Nikke knows what it is, but doesn't reach the self-mockery rung of the ladder. It knows what it's doing, and it's still sincere about it, even if it dares have fun at its own expense sometimes.

So, with that on the table, the take on Cyberpsychosis present in Nikke is incredibly powerful as a narrative tool because it tells you just how much of a jury-rigged slapdash product Nikke are. They are not cutting edge technology, they are literally something they pumped out quick as can be while telling everyone in the world that's still alive that they are cutting edge technology. And all, all of the safeguards are ultimately subject to willpower and perspective. Some Nikke go insane if they are too machine-like. Snow White has basically rebuilt herself over and over hundreds of times in her forever war. Nikke cannot aim at humans, so Crow instead puts a steel plate on the ground and ricochets her bullets off of those to shoot Commander successfully. Aiming is something you do with your senses normally, right? Rose figured out that she can just wear a blindfold and convince herself that what she's slashing is not a human, but a Rapture, and that's how she disemboweled and killed her Commander. Just by not seeing and fervently believing.

It's really, really cool how they go about it.

[mimsynims]

Fool For Love

part 6

~~~

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

~~~

Author's Note: Sorry it took longer than usual! The first bit I wrote was shorter than I wanted, so I kept writing - and now you'll get more than usual instead haha... (Sorry not sorry about sneaking in a bit of a side ship I have, but it fit in this part and I want Karlach to have her hot blacksmith - yay HeartForge!)

Thank you for the comments! <3

Oh, and as I think I mentioned before, this will of course stray from canon but I have and will use things that actually happen in the game too (act 1/2), just FYI.

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: angst, pining, pining while fucking, jealousy, minor Karlach/Dammon, eventual happy ending

Summary: You thought you knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn't have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only... now you do. And you're not handling it very well, making a rash decision you will regret. Is there a way to undo it?

~~~

It’s eerily quiet when you get back to camp. Not that you expected your friends to still be awake, but the silence feels ominous.

Or perhaps it’s just your guilt making it seem that way.

You’re not sure breaking things off was the wrong decision — the jury is still out on that — but you regret how it happened. Regret being so harsh.

Regret not waiting until morning to have the conversation.

A noise coming from the direction of Gale’s tent snaps you out of your musings. Your body tenses up, readying for battle. Scanning the area, your hand drifts down towards a weapon that isn’t there. You must have dropped it sometime during… during. It aches thinking back and you can’t bring yourself to go back. Not now, anyway. 

You spot a flash of purple and instantly relax. Gale must be awake still. 

Perhaps the gods decided to be lenient after the night you had, giving you the opportunity to stomp out at least one fire you’ve accidentally started before it becomes an uncontrollable inferno.

“Still up, Gale?”

“Tav!” He smiles. “Yes, but I was about to tuck in for the night too.”

His eyes roam over you, but if he suspects what you and Astarion were up to after he and the others left, he doesn’t mention it.

“So, Gale…” You clear your throat. “I actually came over to apologise.”

“Apologise?” He sounds genuinely surprised. “Whatever for?”

“I think I might’ve given you the impression that I’m interested in more than friendship. And that was careless of me.” And apparently, you’re too much of a coward to admit that you used him. “I’m sorry.”

Gale takes a moment before he answers. “You were careless, yes. But I think I may have an inkling as to why.”

“Ah.” Of course he does. “For the record, the circumstances surrounding that… reason, have changed, one might say.” Because you were acting without thought, yet again. “Which doesn’t affect things between us — you and me, I mean. I value our friendship dearly, but–”

“Tav.” Gale holds up a hand to stop you. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

He sounds sincere, and searching his face, you find nothing to suggest otherwise. “Thank you. For what it’s worth, I did have a really nice time tonight.”

“Good. Me too.” A half-smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I can’t pretend I wasn’t disappointed when you invited the others, but in retrospect, I think you did the right thing.”

“You’re a good man, Gale.” A hug seems inappropriate, so you place a hand on his arm instead. “I’m sure someone better and kinder than me is waiting somewhere out there for you.”

His smile turns wry. “And I’m sure you and your ‘reason’ can sort things out once you both stop being stubborn arses.”

It’s probably because you’re still a bit drunk and in need of sleep, but you can’t stop yourself from bursting out laughing. “I think we would need a miracle for that.” Gale isn’t wrong, both you and Astarion are often too stubborn for your own good.

You expect Gale to at least chuckle, but instead, his expression softens. “It seems a miracle we’re all still alive, so who’s to say we can’t have another?”

He sounds so serious you stop laughing just as abruptly as you started. The hurt from before resurfaces, because there’s a bigger obstacle than stubbornness in your way. “I think I would need more than one miracle to accomplish what you’re talking about, and I doubt that I’m that lucky.”

Because even if you would talk, he still doesn’t love you, and in your current miserable state, you doubt that he ever will. To your dismay, you feel tears threatening to spill. Perhaps you should’ve waited until tomorrow to talk to Gale, after all.

Gale comes closer and puts a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it, sympathy plain on his face. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

This conversation has taken a turn you don’t want to face right now — and with Gale, of all people — so you just nod.

“Thank you for your honesty, Tav. Now off to bed with you.” Taking a step back, Gale lets his hand drop, Gale. “We both need all the sleep we can get, I think.”

“We do, yes.” You turn to leave but not before giving him another smile. “Thank you, Gale.” You don’t elaborate, but you can tell that you don’t have to as he bows his head in understanding.

“Goodnight, Tav. Sleep well.”

“You too, goodnight.”

As you walk over to your tent to change before going to bed, you think you see movement in the corner of your eye, but when you turn your head to look, there’s nothing there.

“And now you’re imagining things,” you mutter to yourself. “No more alcohol for you until we’re somewhere safe.”

Whenever that may be.

The following days go by in a whirlwind of events, and even if you somehow would have plucked up the nerve to talk to Astarion, you never get the chance. 

First, it was Elminster showing up to talk to Gale. You’re still not convinced it was a good idea to let him into your camp — most likely not, considering the message he was here to deliver.

You know you probably should’ve waited to let Gale have the time to process, but he insisted you press on and next thing you knew, your party was in the Shadowlands, facing goblins and driders and Harpers.

And Jaheira.

Astarion has been ignoring you as much as he can since the night, but you could sense his approval when you refused to drink the wine Jaheira offered you. Perhaps you can mend things between the two of you, in time. You desperately hope so, because a part of you already misses the chats. His embrace. The connection.

Last Light Inn turns out to be a place with many familiar faces, but after the long day you’ve all had, you decide to rest before reacquainting yourself with everyone — with one exception. 

To your — and Karlach’s — delight, you find Dammon in the stables outside the inn building.

You hide a smile when Dammon lights up at the sight of the Karlach. He may be greeting all of you, but his eyes rarely leave the Tiefling, even when he talks to you and the others. It soothes your aching heart to know that things might work out for at least one of you, even if your own love life seems doomed.

Somewhere along the way, she’s become one of your best friends. She deserves nothing but happiness, and it feels like she’s one step closer when Dammon tells her that he can craft an insulating chamber for the infernal engine. It’s not a permanent solution, but it’s enough, for now, to finally allow her to touch people again.

You stand back as Karlach instals the chamber; Dammon looks at her so intently it almost feels like you’re intruding.

The chamber clicks into place.

“Go on,” Dammon says, lifting a hand. “Give us your hand.”

Circumstances aside, it’s a lovely moment, watching the two of them.

“Damn. I’m good.” Dammon laces their fingers for the briefest of moments. “And you — you’re very touchable.”

They’re both so adorable you wish you could grab the others and leave these two be. And perhaps you also wish that this could be you and a certain vampire that is currently looking everywhere but at you.

Letting go of Dammon, Karlach turns to you with the biggest smile you��ve ever seen from her yet.

“Tav! I can touch you now!”

“I’m so happy for you, Karlach! May I hug you?”

“Yes.” Her smile wavers with emotion. “Please.”

Her skin is hot against yours but it’s not unbearable, so you wrap your arms tight around her, glad to finally be able to hug your friend.

“Thank you.” She sounds close to tears. “Talk more back at camp, yeah?”

“Sure.”

“Karlach? I need to explain the bad news too.”

You can feel a hitch in her movements and when she pulls back, her smile is strained.

She listens to what Dammon has to say, but you’re not sure she fully accepts it. You decide to leave it, for now, not wanting to dim her joy more than necessary.

Back at camp, Karlach keeps touching everyone here and there — even a moody Lae’zel accepts it, albeit reluctantly — and her happiness seems to lift the spirit of the others, too.

When everything calms down for the night, you seek her out. You can feel Astarion’s eyes on you, and in a moment of bravery, you decide you’ll talk to him after you’ve spoken to Karlach.

“Karlach? May I come in?”

“Of course! You’re always welcome into my tent, Tav.” She’s ever-moving, still brimming with energy. “Everything alright?”

“I’m fine.” You decide to get right to the point. “I’m actually here to talk about you.”

“About me?”

“It was impossible not to notice the chemistry between Dammon and you today. With everything that’s happened, and considering what the future seems to hold for us… I think you should seize the moment. Go and find him. Be happy, while we still have time.”

Karlach stops to look at you, uncertain. “You think he would want that?”

“I do. He looked just as smitten as you clearly are.” 

“He did, didn’t he?” Her expression turns a bit bashful. “I didn’t just imagine it?”

“No, definitely not. And we won’t be rushing out of here just yet, so if you find yourself inclined to spend the night with him…”

“Tav!”

You shrug, holding back a grin. “I’m just saying.”

“Right.” She nods to herself. “You’re right. I should go right now, shouldn’t I?”

“Yes. Go, shoo.”

She laughs. “So eager to get rid of me. Planning to seduce someone yourself, Tav? I’ve seen your looks towards a certain someone.”

You don’t bother holding back the curse as you both leave her tent. “Am I that obvious?”

“Yeaaah. But it’s fine, and I’m rooting for you.”

You look around, searching for the man in question. “Does that mean that everyone…?”

“Think so, yeah.”

“Fuck. Double fuck.” So everyone knows. And Astarion is nowhere to be found. Again. “He’s not here.”

“Wanna tag along to the Inn? Perhaps he’s there?”

You’re not sure you’ll be able to approach him if he’s there but not alone, but then again, there’s probably no use waiting in camp either. “Yes, why not?”

You tell yourself that if he’s not there, you’ll drink one beer — because gods know you need it — and then you’ll head back. It’s been a long day, and even with everything buzzing around in your mind like a swarm of hornets, you’ll probably have no trouble falling asleep the moment your head hits your bedroll.

It turns out that Karlach is right, Astarion is there. You spot him right away, sitting on a barstool, a goblet of wine in his hand. But he’s not alone. He’s sitting very, very close to someone. You can’t see their face, but the way Astarion holds himself, the way he moves his hand to touch their shoulder…

It seems he has found someone else to spend the night with.

As is his right, but the pain is more than you can handle. You won’t stop him, but it’s impossible to stay and watch it happen. The jealousy would break you. As unluck would have it, Astarion chooses that moment to glance over his shoulder, and before you have time to react, he sees you.

Leave. You have to leave. You spin around and flee through the door, almost bumping into one of the Harpers. You’re making a fool of yourself, but you’d rather have that than seeing a smug expression on Astarion’s face.

Half-running towards camp, you decide it’s time to get over yourself. Astarion clearly has moved on — and so should you.

~~~