#do you know how often i went onto my discord to scream at my friends about how little clipping there was. in scenes where youd expect

[devotedlystrangewizard]

i fully understand we dont need ultra perfect realism in games but there is a part of my brain. that really likes pretty graphics. there is a part of my brain that sees how raytracing is evolving and giggles in unbridled glee. i adore stylized games more than anything ever (my current favorite games are ultrakill, ffxiv, hollow knight, celeste, and rain world) but MAN.

[amazingphilza]

maniac :: cc!tommy x reader

angst (?) , platonic (?) , gender neutral ! ib: conan gray’s maniac

this is satire & note that i write the reader to be a few months younger than tommy (besides that, i think it is fully inclusive !)

synopsis : you put all your hard work towards a useless crush. with no expectation for reciprocated feelings in the first place, it still all ends in a bittersweet slap to reality.

you grew up with minecraft and it was an understatement to say it was part of your childhood

even years later, you still maintained interested in the game

it wasn’t just a simple video game, the community inspired you to do many things

you aspired to be like the creators you watched at a young age like sky, dantdm, cupquake, stampy, and many more

making people happy and entertained was a dream

and when minecraft slowly began trending again in 2019, you started making your own content whenever you felt like it out of fun

you never got much views but it was an enjoyable experience nonetheless

but it wasn’t until the first minecraft monday you decided to push a bit more with your hobbies and worked hard to make it somewhere

however balancing your passions with school wasn’t the easiest

given, you were still only around 15 and your content wasn’t even that good

with not much of a goal or plan with your youtube channel, you fell out of interest eventually

you loved minecraft but you always a rocky relationship with it; getting back into it for a few months then pretending it never really existed for another few

besides the occasional videos you watched in your pass time, you didn’t stay that updated

then lockdown happened

it changed everything and even got you regressing back to old interests

soon enough you were back to minecraft

there was so much to catch up on

hermitcraft season 7 just started, there was minecraft championships, and smp earth and smp live, and so much more to look forward to watching

you were a bit late on both of the smps but your interest peaked specially towards smp earth and it didn’t stop you from watching the past videos

you first gravitated towards a certain youtuber’s videos first since you remember stumbling onto his videos before from your recommended page; wilbur soot

besides recognizing him from his you laugh you lose series and making parody-type of songs, you didn’t know much

however with a few clicks, you had binge watched his smp earth series effortlessly

you found yourself falling down the endless hole, finding more creators to watch through wilbur

one in particular caught your eye in an interesting way

tommyinnit

my god, how can someone be so annoying and pushy in these videos? like shut up already

and to find out he was barely months older than you frustrated you

you just wanted to be better in some way

if someone like him could be popular, why can’t you? yelling at others and causing problems didn’t seem that hard

and so you went back to working hard on your previously failed youtube channel but this time with a goal; be better than tommyinnit

it was a weird aspiration in your head but it worked

he was your age and successful, why need a better motivator?

tommy wasn’t the sole reason why you strive to make content since you truly did want to create videos to entertain people like the youtubers you originally grew up watching

and with the amount of free time you had, you thoroughly analyzed his content; what was the most popular, how he streamed, edited his videos, everything

you just completely studied the algorithm in general

along the way, tommy’s personality grew on you

tommy was undoubtedly a very loud and energetic person but you became fond of his ambitions

you understood why he was popular at such a young age; he was a natural entertainer

your spite towards the boy turned into a hope

a hope to be at par with him someday and even be mutuals

and it was like your dreams were suddenly manifested into existence

you gained a large following in the early months of lockdown and even was recognized to be apart of minecraft championships

it felt like yesterday that you were just watching your favorite youtubers livestream the same competition

and now you were situation in a team to play yourself for the first time instead of being a viewer for once

not to mention, with tommyinnit as a teammate

how did you manage to get so lucky?

under the excitement, you felt beyond never nervous waiting in the empty discord call for your team to join you to practice the mini-games

in the middle of gathering your thoughts together, you heard a sound from discord signaling someone joined the call

“uh, hello?”

you heard the familiar british accent you spent hours listening to from countless streams and videos

“h-hi! i’m y/n, how are you?”

you hoped tommy couldn’t hear the strain in your voice due to fighting your nerves, but you quietly celebrated that you didn’t freeze up altogether

“oh i’m good, thank you. and i’m tommy by the way, this is the first time we’re speaking, yeah?”

“yep! it’s nice to meet you”

“yeah, i’ve seen your name around the timeline a few times, you seem cool”

oh my god what?

“thanks! um i actually really enjoy your content not gonna lie”

“oh wow, good shit!”

and the conversation smoothly went on, bouncing back and forth between you two before your other two teammates joined the call

once everyone was situated, you decided to start streaming since it was your first mcc and you wanted a vod of you practicing to look at later on as a memory

your chat immediately noticed how much you were enjoying yourself, especially after all the short stories of talking about who inspired you in the past

the smile plastered on your face never left

after stream and your other teammates went offline, it was you and tommy left in the call once together again

“it was nice talking to you tommy! and the practice was really fun, i cant wait for the actual competition!”

“yeah definitely, we’ll for sure place high”

“hopefully. it’s my first time and i hope i don’t cost us the dub”

“nah, you think so? i mean rt and plumbella are also our team mates so you know, it’s all for fun in the end”

you knew tommy was implying the teamwork wasn’t going to be the best compared to the other teams but at least in the end you’ve both made a new friend

“yeah you’re right!”

“anyway it’s getting late imma hop off”

“okay tommy, talk to you soon?”

“yep!”

“alright byee”

“bye!”

the moment he left the call, you felt a sense of relief before a small wave of sadness took over

you wanted to continue talking to tommy but you knew you had other responsibilities to tend to

for the rest of the day, you couldn’t stop thinking of the call and mcc practice

the funny jokes, singing random songs, screaming for no reason, everything

it even kept you awake until the early morning

you buried your head in a pillow and screamed into it after realization hit

y/n no

no no no no no no no

you tried to recall anything that remotely related your other teammates which you remembered that didn’t include tommy

even if it was a few hours ago, you couldn’t pin point something specific

no

i must just be forgetful, right?

what the hell did rt and plumbella even say that whole call?

you vividly remembered everything with tommy and it was clear to you why

surely not

with putting a hand on your chest above your heart, you confirmed that you couldn’t lie to yourself based on the rapid speed

you liked tommy for a good while but it hadn’t clicked to you until now

eventually you fell asleep due to exhaustion but that’s to say you didn’t do so without imagining spending more time with tommy

ever since that day, time went by in a flash

your team didn’t do the best in mcc but it had been a while since then to have that as a concern

sadly you and tommy didn’t talk as often as you hoped but that didn’t make you have less feelings for him

on some days you felt bad since you thought you didn’t know enough about him to even be allowed to crush on him

it was a bit unprofessional but you were nearly 16, it’s normal to have these little crushes right?

eventually time came to rescue when tommy asked you if you wanted to accompany him in the dream smp

undoubtedly, you said yes

and for the few months during summer, it was where you two became even closer than before

however, once both of you two had to go back and attend school, it was harder to catch up with each other

even on calls together off stream, the occasional snapchat notification going off irked you in a way you couldn’t explain

only winter break was the small pause on your disappointment

but even then, it was a slow but steady hill of repressed sadness and frustration until early spring of the following year

you had hoped 2021 would be better than last year but after scrolling through twitter one day and seeing stans making rumors about how tommy had a crush on one of his classmates gave you the same pain you felt when school started last fall

you dreaded to look over at tommy’s most recent story time stream vod where all the gossip arose from; it was him stumbling over his words with the mention of a girl during a certain part

jealousy wasn’t the right word to describe the way you felt

you would never go out of your way to make tommy reciprocate the feelings you had for him

and if he liked someone else the way you saw him, you wouldn’t mind

having a crush is ecstatic, and if he has someone like that too, you should be happy

right?

you tried

what finally broke you was seeing a tiktok a few weeks later of tommy in college with eryn and another girl talking

you didn’t know how she looked like or anything but you wanted to sob

good for him

she didn’t even say much in the video and you dont know enough about tommy’s personal life to jump to conclusions like this

you knew you were acting irrational and you couldn’t be upset at tommy for something he couldn’t control

if anything, you never directly showed interest in him

you didn’t want to in the first place

it was a bad idea from the start

you looked back at the past year and all your intentions

what kind of sick fanfiction did you think you were living?

becoming a content creator, hoping to blow up, just to talk to a big youtuber you had a crush on?

oh my god

y/n what is wrong with you?

listen to yourself, y/n

you need to get some help

whether tommy was dating or even just had interest someone was none of your business

you had to move on no matter what it was and be good and supportive friend

it was dreadful to get over a stupid crush like this but after so much work you put in, you gave some sympathy for yourself

in a friend perspective, you were happy with whatever tommy did and was satisfied your friendship together, but you hadn’t realized how much you gambled from the beginning

and just for a crush?

you couldn’t comprehend how far you gone because you fancied someone

it wasn’t like anyone could get famous and become a popular content creator either

and now with you being on the dream smp along with a successful youtube channel at 16? you were grateful something pushed you enough to work this hard

but you’d never forget the fact everything that lead up to this point was a crush on no other than tommyinnit which first spurred from complete spite

“who’s the one better off now?” your thoughts mocked you from the complete irony

sigh

y/n, you maniac

[thefanficmonster]

You Call It A Mess, We Call It Baking

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Tons of fluff

Summary: A friendly argument via Discord leads to a baking session. Said baking session leads to a kitchen looking like it was the victim of a tornado. The lesson here is: don’t leave Corpse and Y/N in the kitchen together.

Requested by Anon, thank you so much for your request, hope I captured what you wanted well and I hope you enjoy reading it.

Corpse’s POV

I’ve been sitting in a Discord call with Y/N for about three years now, keeping her company as she’s editing some footage Sean sent her earlier. In the meantime, I’m reviewing the recently submitted stories by my viewers, reading some lines I find funny or downright terrifying to her.

“When I went in the kitchen to check on the cake, it was already out of the oven, a sticky note next to it on the counter that read: ‘smells nice’. My blood ran cold.“ I read the eerie sentence that is suggesting one of my most frightening scenarios - a stalker getting inside your house. I get chills just imagining what was probably going on in the sender’s head when they saw that.

“Jeez, it’s been so long since I’ve cooked something other than omelet.“ I hear Y/N reply absentmindedly, completely neglecting the fear factor of what’s going on in the story.

“Good job missing the point.” I chuckle, my eyes continuing to scan the email until my brain actually comprehends what she said, “Wait, you mean to tell me you have baked anything ever?! No offense, Y/N, but I was honestly doubting your ability to make an omelet as well. In all the years we’ve been friends I can’t remember you ever not saying ‘I hade takeout’ when I asked you what you had for dinner.” 

The scoff that comes through my headphones is the most adorable thing ever. She’s one to easily take a joke and never get offended by anything, but I know how heated she can get with her sarcasm. If I’m being honest, I’m always here for it. 

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Corpsy. A girl’s gotta have some aces up her sleeve.“ I can just imagine the narrowing of here eyes and the tilting of her head as she says that. She has a very specific way of expressing her thoughts. When we first met I accidentally made the comparison to one of those children’s books that have pictures, stories and small buttons for audio. That comparison has stuck with me and I look back at it very often. To fully catch her point, you don’t just listen to her. No, no, no. You focus on every change in her face and body. The way she looks away during certain parts of her speech, the way her voice plays with several different tones at once. Her posture while speaking. Just like those books - you don’t just listen to the audio, you look at the pictures and read the text.

“Well you know how much I like playing poker, why don’t you come over and throw those aces down.“ The last thing you should ever give Y/N is a challenge. She won’t only homerun it, but will never let you forget it either. When we met she was a girl with self esteem in the negatives, so seeing her brag about her achievements to me always brings me joy.

The details I’ve listed are pretty in-depth, aren’t they? That’s because I don’t want to let anything slip when it comes to her. This realization hit me early in our friendship and it was only like two years in that I finally connected the dots - this investment in her of mine was not simple nor platonic. Come to think of it, I reckon it never was.

“No way, I’m not changing out of my pajamas just to come to your house.” She laughs, once again making me picture her full body reaction to her statement.

I smirk, knowing I’m about to bring out my main weapon, “Oh come on, I’ve seen you in pajamas countless times. You can just admit you don’t wanna embarrass yourself. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

I can sense her fuming even though she’s like two miles away. “I’ll be there in 15.”

She hangs up before getting the chance to hear me lose control of the laughter I’ve been suppressing. 

Man, I love this girl.

Y/N’s POV 

“It’s on.“ I say as soon as the door in front of me swings open to reveal the smug smirking face of my bestfriend. The foundation of my tough, unbothered act is shaken up by the outburst of butterflies in my stomach which occurs every time I see him. I can never look at this man and not turn at least a little red in the cheeks. 

It’s been long since I self-diagnosed with the malicious ‘falling for someone who would never reciprocate my feelings’ illness. I’ve been living with it for a while. What medication do I take? Dating other guys. One bad relationship after another, scolding myself that every one of them has been a desperate attempt to get him to change his gaze on me from ‘best friend’ to something more. Hell, I don’t even know how to define that ‘something more’. I once even tried to admit my feelings, but I was so vague and so incoherent that I didn’t understand myself, so how was he supposed to grasp my downright sad excuse of a confession. 

“No ‘hello’, no nothing?“ He moves aside to let me in. I walk right past him with a sassy flip of my hair to mask the nervousness of being aware that his eyes were on me, “Rude.“ He murmured with an obvious smile in his tone.

He looks as cute as ever, black sweatpants and a black tee, hair messy as though he has just rolled out of bed. I can say with the upmost certainty that he’s the only one who can pull of that hairstyle.

I hide mine as I throw on the apron that’s hanging by his fridge, ready to take over his kitchen and put those aces of mine to use. I can’t help but furrow my brows when I see him enter the kitchen behind me and lean against the counter. That’s when I notice the counter is lined with all the ingredients I’ll need for the cake I had in mind. 

“OK, what do we do first?“ he claps his hands together, straightening his posture as he gives me a expectant look.

It takes all my brain cells to prevent me from freezing up completely. I’m not usually like this, mind you, I’m a lot better at keeping what’s going on inside my head camouflaged. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I don’t have much time to dwell on that. If I do, he’ll pick up on it right away.

“Um, we are not gonna do anything. I will be here baking, and you will remain outside the kitchen until I’m done. If you need something, ask and I’ll bring it to you. I can’t have you sabotaging my project, impostor.” I narrow my eyes at him like he’s the most dangerous of threats. And he is, for my mental sanity.

He fakes a hurt expression, clearly fighting to the best of his ability to hide how much he’s enjoying messing with me. “We’ve known each other for five years, Y/N. Don’t you trust me?”

I lean over the counter to where we’re about two feet apart and whisper, “Not. Even. A. Little. Bit.”

He smiles, “You’re just trying to get away with making this cake by watching a YouTube tutorial. Admit it, you can’t even crack an egg properly.” His eyes are now as narrowed as mine as we stare each other down at a proximity that’s rapidly raising my body temperature and heartbeat. It’s not fair. I’m a mess around him so he automatically has the upper hand.

As expected, I give in, “You better not mess around though.”

After I force him to give me several different oaths, we start. I’m working on the batter, he’s working on the frosting. We decided to decorate it with crimson and dark purple frosting. We’re both really pick about the color shades so he’s currently struggling to get the crimson perfect. 

“Let’s make it a layer cake.“ He suggests out of the blue, “Two layers, nothing crazy.“

I think it over for a moment or two before shrugging, “OK, but then you better grab a bowl and help me with the second layer. You know how to make the batter, right?”

He confirms that he does and walks out of my line of sight. I hear him open the fridge as I whisk the eggs I have cracked with the sugar. 

“You want something to drink?“ He asks while rummaging through the fridge.

I decline, try to focus on the recipe that I have somehow memorized to the smallest of details. As I’m reciting the it silently to make sure I didn’t skip any steps with the batter, I feel something cold run down my back causing me to scream.

“What the fuck was that?!“ I turn around and glare at him just as the ice cube slips out from under my hoodie and falls to the floor. The fucker’s laughing whole heartedly, not giving a damn that he just gave me a mini heart attack. Mainly cause I thought it was a roach or something, and he know I hate bugs.

“You do realize how boiling red you are, right? You look like a lobster. I thought you needed something to cool you down.“

Instead of being annoyed, I do a full 180 and decide to play his game, “Yeah, I know...” I trail off, reaching my hand back towards the bowl of flour. Grabbing a a handful of the white powder I throw it at him before he can even catch on. Needless, to say, his outfit and hair aren’t so black anymore. “Ah, I knew your hair would look good with snowflakes in it, but you can never be too sure.”

“This means war, Y/N.” His smile is borderline malicious, getting me excited for what’s to come. 

Him and I have always had these so called wars, but never like you’d imagine. We are silent, strategic, subtle. Neither of us knows when the other will attack until it’s too late. That’s why instead of going for a counter-attack right away, he heads to complete his mission of making the batter for the second layer.

All is quiet except the noises of the utensils clinking together every now and then. I keep a close watch on him out of the corner of my eye and I notice no sus behavior. That is until I see him take a spoonful of his batter and eat it. I whirl around at the speed of a gust of wind, eyes wide, “Do you want to fuck up your guts.” He ignores me as he takes another spoonful, bringing it close to his mouth. This time, I grab onto his arm causing the contents of the spoon to spill on my hoodie.

I roll my eyes, unbothered by the brown stain that by some miracle missed the apron and fell on my grey hoodie, “Don’t. Eat. The. Batter. Copy?“

“Paste.“ He nods, smirking with pride as he puts the spoon aside.

I sigh and return to my side of the kitchen, focusing on the next task: poring the batter into the circular baking tray which he, for some reason, has two of. He repeats the task soon after me and we put the two trays in the oven. I help him with the frosting, getting the shades close enough to what we had in mind. 

After about five minutes of the crusts baking, a wonderful smell spreads throughout the kitchen. At this point, all we have to do is wait for the oven to signal that our cinnamon crust is ready to be taken out, wait for it to cool down and then frost the cake.

“It smells really good.“ He comments, turning his head to look at me.

I’m sitting atop the kitchen counter and Corpse is standing next to me. This is the only time him and I are at approximately the same height. The realization brings a thought to my mind, one that makes me feel like an evil mastermind.

“Hey, remember earlier when you said I couldn’t crack an egg properly?“ He hums affirmatively, “Well...“

The carton of eggs is within arm’s reach. I grab an egg, chip it off the side of the counter and crack it apart above his head, its contents coating his hair. “How’s that for a proper egg crack?” I ask victoriously.

He lets out a surprised sound, something between a gasp and a laugh. Shaking his head to get the yoke to fall down, he says amusedly: “I don’t know...you tell me.”

Too late for me to do anything. There’s milk all over me.

The malicious smile on his face is replicated on mine and now it’s really on. However, as we reach for the items meant to be out weapons, the oven dings.

Frosting the cake goes about as well as you expect: there’s more frosting on us than the cake itself.

“Let’s make amends, please. I’m so not looking forward to taking three showers tonight.“ I say, raising a white napkin and waving it around.

“Fair enough.“ He shrugs and we shake hands.

As I’m about to pull my hand back, he holds onto it, making me look up at him. Our eyes lock and I suddenly regain that same shakiness and vulnerability I always have around him. It never leaves me, I just manage to ignore it. The sound of my panic is muffled by the sound of my heart thumping the loudest it has ever. 

Expectedly, he is the bold one who makes the first and final move. The move to end one era of us and start another. His lips touch mine and all fades. It’s just him and I. The friends who were never just friends. The cowards who suck at dealing with emotions. The fearful little kids that are afraid of rejection because we both mean so much to each other, to the point of suffering to prevent the possibility of losing one another.

We embrace who we are, finally admitting that friends is not what we are meant to remain forever.

The kiss might’ve been brief, but the meaning it carries makes it the most valuable moment of my life. One I’ll cherish forever. Something in his eyes tells me he will too. That’s all I need. That’s all we need. No words are necessary.

Suddenly, our bubble bursts as a result of his ringing phone. He lets go of one of my hands and takes his phone from the counter.

“It’s Dave”, he smiles, picking up the call and turning to get me in the camera frame. “Hey Dave, look who’s here with me.“

I wave at the camera and at the baffled face of Dave. “Hi!”

“What, in the name of God, is that mess?“ He raises both his eyebrows as his eyes scan us and the kitchen behind us.

“You call it a mess, we call it baking.“ Corpse and I look at each other and smile, blushing as red as the streak in Dave’s hair.

“Am I missing something here? Did I call at a bad time?“ He asks, still struggling to rationalize what he is seeing.

“Yeah, you actually did. I’ll call you back.“ Corpse dead-ass hangs up on him, putting his phone away before turning to me, “We have more important matters at the moment.“

He kisses me again, this time more confidently. His arms wrap around me and prep me up on the counter, insinuating that this kiss won’t be as short as the last.

[bakugohoex]

I'm so happy for you! Congrats for 1k! 🥳🥳🥳 I saw there was one fluff prompt left, number 10 I believe. If it's still available could you do it with Porco?

“we were never just friends”

pairing: porco galliard x female reader

cw: fluff, language, a lot on intimate moments that make me sad that I’m alone

word count: 2700+

a/n: please im sorry that im still working on my 1k event when i have a 2k event going on at the same time, but i wrote this fic in a sprint thing on discord and surprisingly I think i did okay with it.

summary: in which Porco relives moments of his love for you until he finally gets what he had always wanted

1k event masterlist

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist

Porco didn’t understand the first time he met you would be as children; he saw those tender eyes and that soft sunflower dress, and he couldn’t help but fall in love. Maybe it was a childish dream or some misconception that this was the love that he had so often seen between his parents. But he knew from that very moment seeing you with your hair up in pigtails playing in the sand he had fallen in love.

His eyes stayed focused on you, his shorts showing the grazed knees he had had from sliding along the grass against his mothers will. But the sound of his screams as he ran towards the sandcastle you had made, and the crying as a consequence of the fallen castle made him realise this wasn’t a real way to introduce himself. He looked between those damp tears and the sand that speckled across your chest and knees and he knew this moment would be ingrained into both of your minds for the rest of your life.

He knelt in front of your timid body, eyes tearing up as you looked like you wanted to chuck sand at him. Your mother hadn’t noticed the tears as they were silent, but as Porco brought his hand out, moving his small fingers to touch your cheek he felt the cold tears stream down your face. It wasn’t his fault, or maybe it was, but at the time he felt bad. “I’m sorry.”

You looked up to meet the blonde, his dinosaur t shirt and beige coloured shorts made him look like any other child. You don’t know what got into you too stare at his childish figure. Maybe it was because you were a child yourself but seeing this random child apologise for kicking down your hard work and effort. It brought some relief, “it’s okay.”

He wiped away the tears as he spoke once more, “I’ll help you build another one.”

You nodded in an instant as he grabbed the plastic mould and started digging for sand. Maybe it was the start of a new friendship he didn’t know at the time but here he was lying on his bed reliving those childish memories that he had had with his only love.

It had been years since that incident, a decade even but you still remained close to him, still had him at arm’s length. He was the boy who had spent years pining over you whilst you always just seemed out of his grasp. He stared once more at your text message, once again speaking about your date with Reiner.

All he could do was send good luck for it, what else could he do? You were his best friend, key word being friend and nothing else, nothing more. He could only just wish to see you happy and if it meant with Reiner who was he to suppress your happiness.

He couldn’t help but admire his lock screen, the love and admiration he had for you, maybe it was because of the many years he had spent following you around like a lost puppy, but the way his eyes would almost widen each time you spoke. He looked down through his camera roll, he couldn’t help but relive all these memories he had had with you.

The first time you both went into high school together, the first day that you both had found other friends. Met new people and happened to form your own group, Porco knew everybody knew of his little crush on you. Who wouldn’t, the way you’d both walk to and from school or the way he’d always be on call with you to just talk about anything.

Maybe this was the sign, the push to admit his feelings but he never did. It had been a stupid party; his camera being filled with that night months ago. The night were you both went to Eren’s stupid party, the night where he had found you in the arms of another.

“I hate Eren.” You had muttered to the boy.

He scoffed as his arm rested loosely against your shoulder, “who doesn’t, he put me in a headlock in PE once.”

“And you didn’t fight back, aww I’m proud of you Poc.” He rolled his eyes at the nickname, he hated it, but he knew that from your lips any name of his would sound so pretty. “I heard Reiner’s going though.”

Ever since that stupid Maths class with Reiner you almost seemed infatuated with the boy. Porco hated it and knew he’d have to keep an eye on you for the rest of the night. As you both walked through the doors, already seeing drunk teenagers and couples making out. Porco became jealous, he might have hated the idea of ever having his first kiss with you in a rowdy party. But the way he wasn’t even able to keep you by his side, to show you off to Reiner and the others because you really meant more than the world to him.

Your eyes scoured around the room and in a matter of seconds you faced the brute of a blond, he hated how you left his side. Hated how Reiner beckoned you forward as if you were his, you weren’t you were Porco’s. Porco shook his head as he stared at the two of you before going off to find anybody except the two of you.

He didn’t know what went into his head to drink as much as he had that night. He stared at the photos on his phones, many drunk ones of him falling about but he might not have remembered the night that well. But a memory would forever remain ingrained in his head.

The shift of his weight from the alcohol and the way his eyes landed on you. His sweet childhood friend on Reiner’s lap, his Y/n, the girl with the sundress now draped across Reiner’s lap, hands around his neck as your lips had been attached to his own. The couples Porco had seen, had envied for not being the two of you had all divulged into you and Reiner.

His arms against your waist, your hands tugging at his blond hair, Porco eyes flashed red. He wanted to run up and take you away, grab your arm and leave but he didn’t. He looked at the two of you and left. Walked out of the house, telling Mikasa to let you stay the night and then left, he couldn’t face you, couldn’t walk home with you and see your smudged lipstick, see your dishevelled hair.

Porco’s eyes stayed firm at the multitude of texts that came through, you had sent him voice notes after voice notes about what you were wearing and the plan for the night. Now here he was listening to them and replying half an hour later, you were probably out there, probably with him, kissing him, holding him, loving him.

He chucked his phone to the ground as he stared at the many photos of the two of you and your other friends. Every moment with you always felt like a whole other world, maybe you felt the same way or maybe you didn’t. But he would always keep it hidden, he knew better than to let his emotions fuel his rage. Because in the end all he wanted was for you to be happy and if it meant giving up his own, who cared.

The sound of his doorbell going off made him sign it was probably his mothers friend. He stayed staring at the memories, he could have been out right now. Could be with Zeke or Pieck or anybody but no he was in his bed mopping per usual, his mothers voice boomed through the house as she shouted his name.

“Yeah, yeah I’m coming.” He groaned as he swung his legs off the bed, his eyes straight down the stairs. He didn’t know who it could be, possibly Bertholdt wanting to borrow his switch again or Colt asking for Marcel as well.

He rubbed at his eyes as he was finally met with you. In that pretty dress you only wore for special occasions, those bright eyes that brimmed with tears and that soft smile you tried to put on. His mother left as you moved towards the stairs, both unable to speak as you walked up to his room, the room you had spent countless nights sleeping at. The room where you both spoke of your dreams and aspirations, the room where he had fallen even more in love with you.

You sat on his bed refusing to meet his eye as he leant against his door, “what happened?” His phone remained chucked to the ground, the lock screen of the both of you flashed as the group chat seemed to be buzzing about something. He was about to walk over and check it but your croaky voice stopped him.

“Don’t…please.” He looked at your figure, the way you look vulnerable and almost nimble, he moved to your body, hands against your shoulder as you leant into his own. Tears finally falling freely onto his shirt, “I…I thought he liked me Porco.”

“What did Reiner do?”

The whisper and tension around the room was low but he kept you close by his arms, “we…we were supposed to hang out and when I met up with him he was all over Historia.”

Porco’s eyes flashed in rage, Reiner had no right to do that to you. To his girl and at that moment all he could think about was the hurting you must feel, he may have hated Reiner from the beginning but seeing you with tears from an undeserving man broke him the most. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

You both stayed in each other’s arms, his lingering touches and eyes that filled with so much love as he kept a hold of you. His perfect girl that would never be his, “don’t leave me Poc.” It had been a whisper but the way his hand caressed your hair, the illuminating moon cascading through the background as it lit up the room. Every memory and past version of yourself, you looked out seeing the picture of the two of you from years ago, “that was the day I fell in love with you.”

Porco stayed silent, he didn’t think you understood what you had said, pointing at the two of you at the treehouse his father had made for you at 13, but he remembered that day as if it was yesterday.

“I can't believe he actually made it for you both,” you got all giddy as you climbed the ladder, Marcel already up there, you helped Porco up as you looked inside the treehouse.

Porco shrugged as you both looked around the place, the disposable camera your mother had given you around your neck as you stayed firm in your want to take pictures of the world. He watched you take pictures of the different parts of the treehouse, one of Marcel sleeping as he finally showed you what he had brought.

“We can put our names in the tree, make the world know we were here.” Your eyes widened as Porco wrote his initials with a plus underneath and you wrote your own. The way he told you to keep your eyes closed as he engrained around your names a heart, you had always thought it was a friendship heard but wanted it to be a heart of love. A sign of new beginnings of a relationship that could possibly occur. “Now we’re together forever.”

You hugged the boy as the two of you spent the rest of the day in the treehouse, his mother coming and taking the exact picture of the two of you that was now plastered against Porco’s wall.

It was beautiful and you didn’t mean to confess your own truths, Porco stared back at you, his eyes widening as he grabbed your wrist. “Y/n…”

“Forget what I said.” You muttered as you looked back out of the window, more and more memories each one holding moments of how deep your love ran for one another. The first time you both went swimming and Porco helped you into the deep end or the many trips out to the beach where you and Porco would run into the sea.

Childhood friends meant nothing when all you both really wanted to be was lovers. And as his firm grip stayed on you, his eyes filled with wonder and desire looked back at you with lust and love. All he could see was love, a type of love that had only ever been shown for you because he knew there would never be anybody else.

“It’s you, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and I hope what I heard was true, I pray it was because Reiner doesn’t deserve you Y/n, I…I need you.” The last part was nothing more than a murmur but as you finally looked into his eyes, his pretty smile and pretty face. He knew you knew; he knew that there was something more than that, “we were never just friends.”

With those final words, reality hit the two of you both were never just friends. He gave you a look, his eyes filled with lust as he looked down at your lips, hands moving to hold onto your waist. His love, his girl in his arms for the first time, “I love…”

You trailed off as his lips met your own, the tears having stopped and your hands cupping his cheeks. His soft full of life cheeks filled with admiration and adoration at the girl that had finally become his, he loved you, he did and now he knew that you loved him.

The kiss was soft, you both stayed in one another’s arms as his soft lips kept at a boundary but as soon as a moan slipped from your mouth his tongue had divulged inside. The heat from the past decade all coming to this one kiss, one look at you and he finally saw his love, the truth behind his sadness.

He had hated seeing you kiss Reiner, he had and now he would put that hatred and replace it with the love he had for you. He put you down onto his bed, his hands around your waist as he kept his mouth on your own. Kissing you with such passion and drive that his parents could probably hear the squeak of the bed.

He looked down at you, having finally let you go, arms to your side as he looked at his love. “I love you.” He knew he was repeating his love, but he wanted you to know, wanted you to never forget that his love knew no bounds that he would forever be yours and hopefully you’d forever be his.

He was about to kiss you once more, but you spoke just as his lips gilded against one another, the hush of it all, the way his breath fanned against your lips. You licked your lips and Porco could almost taste your saliva as he waited to hear your words. Waited to see the woman he loved speak truths about their future with one another, your hands wrapped around his neck making sure to not bring him to another kiss.

Instead to see his eyes widen at the proximity of another, the way he kneeled between your legs, spreading your dress apart, the way his hands stayed firm against your head. An intimate moment for the two souls who had finally become one, “I want you, you…you deserve to know the truth.”

He hesitated but nodded waiting for a reply, he didn’t care if whatever your next words ruined any moment the two of you were about to have. He just wanted to hear you say your wants and needs for him one last time.

“Reiner…he was a distraction…I thought you liked Pieck so…so I let you pursue that.” You whispered, he hated thinking that you thought he liked Pieck, the way you went to Reiner as an alternative when the two of you could have just spoken about your feelings.

But at this moment he didn’t care, he had you in his bed, in his arms and the past meant nothing to him when he knew there was a future for you both. “I’ve loved you since I kicked your sandcastle Y/n and I’ll love you for the years to come”

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[cathedreal]

𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕓𝕚𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝔽𝕣𝕦𝕚𝕥 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟙 ℂ.ℍ

ೄྀ࿐Corpse x Female Reader ೄྀ࿐Genre: Dark Academia ೄྀ࿐Warnings: Mention of: blood, knife + small wounds inflicted, alcohol, smoking/cigarettes, a toxic relationship (not with Corpse) ೄྀ࿐Word count: 3.1K+  ೄྀ࿐Summary: Willow Creek Academy is full of mysteries, or so you find out when you are unwillingly iniated into a secret society with none other than your boyfriend’s best friend, Corpse. Secrets are kept, tensions rise high, and you are in the middle of it all. Together with Corpse, you have to find a way to leave the society and make it out alive while staying under the radar when you find yourselves the primary suspects in a murder case.

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AUTUMN, SEMESTER 1

��“Where the fuck am I?” you mumble, your voice loud in the silence of the room. Warm skin brushes against your own. It makes you shiver. A blindfold is tightly wound around your eyes and your arms are restrained in front of you, trying to move doesn’t help so you stay seated on your knees. 

 The air is stifling and you wonder if it’s because of your panicked state or because of the dustiness of the room itself. It smells like spilled wine, cigarette smoke, books collecting dust on the shelves. You wonder if you’re in the academy’s library but you doubt it. The librarian would have never agreed to holding hostages in there, the books were too precious to risk ruination.

 Your boyfriend, James, had invited you to meet him under the big oak tree on the campus’ edge in the late evening. You often study there, a red pen between your teeth for taking notes, the grass pricking into your thighs familiarly. James rarely sits with you there to study; he finds the grass stains not worth the peacefulness of the rustling of the wind through the leaves, the birds happily chirping in the background to keep you company. He rather studies elsewhere and you wonder if this was the place he frequents.

 You should have realised that when James asked you to meet him there, it was suspicious behaviour. But you had trusted him wholly and now you’re here, on your knees, another person next to you in probably the same position. You wonder if James had something to do with this. You don’t have to wonder for long. The blindfold is ripped away from your eyes and you blink rapidly to get rid of the spots that float in front of them. You don’t see much but hooded figures looming over you dangerously, objects in hand that you can’t quite make out. You glance to the side then and make out curly hair, a collared shirt with a chain dangling against the brown sweater layered above. It glints in the light of the candles surrounding you. 

 “Sol Omnia Regit.”

 “What is happening?” you ask, thrashing around a little in your restraints. A hooded figure suddenly leans close and shushes you. There is a split second where you think you recognise the figure’s eyes but then the person is moving away again, leaving you with a pounding heart.

 Someone leans forward again, sticking out a hand behind themselves to signal something. An object is pressed into their hand and then held out to you. For second, you think it’s a knife or a gun, something to kill you with. There was no other explanation for why you were here but some crazy ritual that you fell victim to. But then...

 "Drink," the person tells you and a crystal glass filled with a dark liquid is pressed to your lips. Blood? you think but when it’s finally pushed past your lips and tilted so you can’t do anything but drink, it proves to be wine. The bitter taste doesn’t leave your mouth even though the glass does.

Another figure crouches down in front of you then, something long glinting in the candlelight. It takes you a few seconds to recognise the object but it’s unmistakably a knife and it’s inching closer to your bound hands. You look up to the hooded figure in panic and the familiar eyes are back, this time they’re closer than before and you can place them easily. “James?” you whisper, your voice hoarse and shaking. James would never hurt you, right? He is your boyfriend, he loves you… 

 Does he? 

 Did he ever? 

 Your mind races as your hands are tugged up so your wrists can rest in the familiar hand which you hold daily. It usually doesn’t feel quite as malicious, sometimes it does, never with other people around.

The person next to you, Corpse, you’re guessing, is holding his breath when you hold it. He can probably see the knife too, twisting expertly in James’ hand. Without deigning you with a response, James cuts into the palm of your hand and you hiss at the sting, You want to say that it is stupid to cut someone there, the palm of a hand has too many nerve endings and you could do a lot of damage but the deed has already been done. 

 Your palm is pressed against a sheet of paper with writing that you can’t quite make out and you realise that it is a contract. It’s unethical, you try to protest, you can’t make someone sign something they haven’t read, but you’re pushed back again and Corpse sucks in his breath next to you.

 "Welcome to Sol Regnum, Y/N and Corpse. You have completed your initiation."

 The lights are turned on and you squint against the sudden brightness blinding you. It takes you a few moments before you can finally look around again, the figures clad fully in black with golden threads running through the mantels they’re wearing finally take off their hoods and James is smirking down at you both.

 “My girlfriend and best friend, finally initiated,” he says, opening his arms as if he has just won the greatest victory. It feels nothing like that. 

 You exchange a look with Corpse, one filled with confusion and worry, before you let your eyes wander around the room. Heavy curtains hang in front of the tall windows, blocking out every possible source of light from the outside. Even the moon can’t shine through. The room is cast in shadows from the now dulled lighting. Your eyes are used to the light again and it is not as bright as it was when someone had snapped them on. The lights have a yellow cast over them, making everyone look just a little bit sick. There are books strewn around the room, the bookcases, which run along one big wall, are all stuffed full so the makeshift piles of books in the corners are there not for aesthetic purposes, but for necessity. Broken busts sit on the floor sadly, some missing a nose, other half of their head. You wonder if it’s a metaphor for something, if the busts represent the brokenness of the secret society you were now initiated in. 

 Everything is starting to make sense now. How James had often disappeared at night, leaving you alone in his bed, wondering if he was with another girl. How there were whispers in the hallway wherever you went as of late, something you had blamed on your own insecurities haunting you rather than real people doing so. How James had looked at you in a way that sent shivers down your spine and not in a good way. It had felt malicious, like there was something waiting for you that you didn’t know anything about. But he did, he probably planned the whole thing.

 Corpse is back up on his feet before you are and he rounds up on James, pulling him into a corner of the room with a firm hand. You blindly follow, avoiding the glances that the other members of this society throw you. It feels like they’re evaluating you even past your initiation. You want to scream at them that you never asked for this, that you didn’t even want to be initiated in a society that you know nothing about. You were forced here but you doubt they would care.

 “No warning, nothing,” you hear from the corner. Corpse’s hand is still pressing into James’ shoulder, his other hand drumming restlessly on his thigh. There is a lone cigarette sticking out from Corpse’s curly hair, balancing dangerously on his ear. You step closer, take your place next to Corpse where it usually was next to James. You’re on Corpse’s side in this matter, though, and James can know that, no matter what the repercussions were.

 You shake your head at James as he laughs good-naturedly. He is the star of the university, the golden boy, the popular guy everyone wants to either have or be friends with. After a year or so of being in a relationship with him, however, you know better than to trust his charismatic laugh, the crinkle in the skin next to his eyes that solidifies his position as the good guy. There was danger in his smile, a certain sense of disingenuousness in the sound of his laughter. 

 You step closer to Corpse.

 “I agree, James. What were you thinking? You never even ask-”

 “Why would I?” James asks and steps closer to you, the shadows casting over his face are making him look like he is the villain of a big play, ready to kill the main character.

 Corpse, cast as the hero, places himself in front of you, half-shielding you with his body. Corpse’s hands are shaking next to his sides but he’s still there, back straight, shoulders down, his head raised which gives him the advantage of a few inches over James.

 “She’s right, you should have asked if we even wanted this.”

 “It’s the opportunity of a life-time! This society will ensure that you will have a good future, something to pass down to your children.”

 You let a hollow laugh escape and the both of them turn to you. “We’re rich, James. All of us are. There was no need for a fucking society, we’re ensured a good future whether we even graduate or not.”

 James shrugs and your hands clench into fists at his nonchalance. You gasp softly when you feel the wound in the palm of your hand. When you open it again, blood rolls from your fingers and drips onto the carpet, just barely missing your shoes. “I’m going back to the dorms,” you say, desperate to get away from the claustrophobic feeling this room gives you. James shakes his head, though, and you stay in place, waiting for him to come up with one good reason for you to stay.

“The party is just getting started,” he says and music begins playing. It sounds as if it is played from an old record, the scratchiness that you would appreciate in other situations doing nothing but grating your ears. James pushes past you and Corpse both and returns with three glasses of the same wine you were forced to drink just minutes ago. It’s pushed into your hands before you can protest. The other members raise their glasses, their eyes on you and Corpse who twitches uncomfortably next to you. It’s a toast but it feels more like a warning of what is to come.

 “Come on, Y/N,” James says and wraps an arm around your waist. You shy away from the touch a little but his grip is hard, his fingertips possibly pressing bruises into your skin. “Corpse?” he adds, waiting for Corpse to hesitantly fall in line next to him. You briefly wish he was on your side instead of James’ but shake it off again. There were more important things to focus on.

 James insists that they meet the others but every person you meet is not the type of person you would want to be friends with. Arrogance and coldness roll off of them in waves, sending you the clear message that you’re not wanted here. From the way Corpse barely answers the few questions they have for you both, you realise that he feels the same. 

 You met Corpse when you started dating James. He is James’ best friend after all, or was, depending on how Corpse feels about this all. He was a little shy when you met him, didn’t say a lot but when he opened up a little, he was charming, funny. Most notably, his voice is low, something that is whispered about in the hallways of Willow Creek Academy. Despite what others say about his voice, to you it’s not weird or unusual, it’s soothing, like melted chocolate. A balm for the soul.

 Minutes pass by and as the alcohol flows freely, the inhibitions of people are lowered. There is a couple making out on the couch next to you, hands roaming each other’s body in a way that seems too private to be doing in front of a room full of people but nobody even bats an eye.

 Corpse is nowhere to be found for a little while but eventually comes back to the loveseat you’re sitting on, pointedly taking James’s place next to you. “When can we leave?” he asks, sipping his wine. You wonder how many he had but you can’t fault him for drinking. You wish you could stomach it yourself.

 “I don’t know, soon, I hope,” you answer and look around. There are people dancing to imaginary music that doesn’t match the one playing, people laughing in corners, hands pulling others behind furniture so they are just barely out of sight.

 You hear Corpse curse and when your eyes meet his again, they look slightly panicked. There are manicured hands roaming down his chest for a second before Corpse is standing again, holding out his hand to you in a clear message that you happily read correctly.

 Corpse helps you up and let’s go right away, something you unconsciously mourn. You would have liked to have Corpse’s hand in your own for a little bit longer. The touch of someone semi-familiar in a room filled with strange people would keep you from freaking out as you wade through the partying people.

 Something in this all reminds you of a bacchanal; wine, freedom, ecstasy. It seems to live in the various people here, even James isn’t untouched as his tie is halfway down his chest when you find him, his body moving close with someone else. 

 You rarely get jealous but something about this leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

 “We’re going,” Corpse announces and tries to pull away when James reaches out to catch his arm, he’s too slow. James whispers something to Corpse and you watch as his expression changes. You don’t dare to ask when you are led back outside. Corpse’s expression is thunderous and it only relaxes when he pulls out his cigarette from behind his ear with shaky fingers and lits it.

 You watch as the smoke bellows and floats up to the sky in figures you try to form recognisable shapes out of. Corpse passes his cigarette to you and you happily take it, feeling the pressure of an impending migraine disappear a little.

 “That was… Something,” you say for a lack of better words. Corpse nods but doesn’t say more. He doesn’t need to. You both know that it was insane what happened, you’re both scared for what this secret society will bring in the future, you both worry about the contract you couldn’t read in the privacy of your own minds.

 Corpse passes the house which holds the male dorms and keeps walking next to you to the other end of the campus. You thank him softly, he nods in recognition. No place is safe for a woman to walk alone and with Corpse you feel strangely safe.

 The early autumn leaves crunch under your shoes when you walk, your footsteps loud in the quiet of the evening. Your pace matches Corpse’s, though you feel like he’s letting you set the pace so you can keep up with each other.

 The building of the women’s dorm is becoming more and more visible the further you walk down the path. It’s sitting stately behind a lush garden you often tend to in your free time, as do the other girls in the building. It brings liveliness into the place which is made solely out of brick outside of it. It’s an old building, you don’t know for sure what it was before it became a campus but you think it must have been a guest house on the castle grounds. 

 Corpse walks you to the door and takes a step back when you retrieve your key. You almost invite him up to take care of his hand. Instead you make him promise to take care of it himself.

 “What do we do about the society thing?” you ask, stalling a little. You’re scared to be left alone with your thoughts right now. Corpse seems to guess it and leans against the pillar that holds up the front of the house, making no movement to leave.

 He shrugs a little and looks off into the distance. You follow his gaze but there is nothing there. “Not much we can do. The contract, though… We need to know what was on there. Maybe we can get out of it.” “I doubt it,” you laugh humourlessly but you nod anyways. “I’d rather see it first than give up immediately. I’m just not sure how to get to it.”

 “We could ditch class,” Corpse suggests, a smirk now growing on his face. You know already that Corpse didn’t attend half of the classes that he should but you laugh a little anyways, this time it’s genuine.

 “You’re an idiot,” you mumble and Corpse’s smirk grows wider, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “A smart one, though. I don’t think any of them will skip classes, even after a party like tonight.”

 “What can I say? I’m a mastermind,” Corpse jokes and pulls out his phone, handing it to you demonstratively. You put in your number on automatic pilot. “Text me when you wake up, we’ll decide on a class together then.”

 You accidentally leave a smear of blood behind on Corpse’s phone but he either hasn’t seen it or doesn’t care enough to mention it. “I’ll text you,” you promise and open the door fully now.

 There is still laughter in the hallways, soft voices that make you relax a little. You suddenly feel bone tired now that you’re in a place that signifies comfort and rest. Corpse notices and waves you inside.

 “Goodnight, Y/N. Take care of your wound.”

 You watch Corpse walk away and become one with the darkness before you finally step inside. You sluggishly climb the stairs and make your way to your dorm room, an action that takes longer than it should have. You shrug off your coat and drop it somewhere, you’d care about the crinkles you put in it in the morning. You find your first aid kit in the bathroom and pour some alcohol on the wound. It makes tears spring in your eyes but it’s necessary so you get through it on pure willpower alone. After bandaging the wound, you shed most of your clothes and finally climb into bed. You don’t even have the energy to put out the light before you fall asleep, nightmares dragging you down with them.

𝕋𝔸𝔾𝕃𝕀𝕊𝕋  𝕆ℙ𝔼ℕ: 

@headcannonsforlife @katyasrussianaccent @boiled-onionrings @satanhauntedourcats​ @ravennightingaleandavatempus​

[wipodu-ao3]

Meddling Terrors - Httyd fanfiction.

Read it on Ao3. Join the discord!

Summary:

Finding one's soulmate was always an interesting journey, especially when the only way you can do that is by withstanding an annoying animal.

Words: 4,714

[One-shot]

“Stop it! Stop it!” Hiccup yelled as he left his hut.

He had his head shielded from the Terrible Terror who had decided to yank on his hair from the moment the man had woken up. It was incredibly annoying and bothersome. When he had woken up and came face to face with the small dragon, he wasn’t surprised. Larger dragons had managed to get into his hut with little problem before and living on the Edge meant there were more wild dragons than ever before.

When the Terror jumped on his chest and batted at his face with a paw, it was annoying. Hiccup though didn’t bother to think anything of it. Terrible Terrors were troublemakers after all. The small dragon didn’t leave though, even when he had opened the door to let it out. Hiccup just simply shrugged and went on with his day.

He had gotten ready and had planned to spend the day in his hut working, but as soon as he had sat down, the Terror had landed on his shoulder and started pulling at strands of his hair. Hiccup had tried to wave the dragon off, but that didn’t work. He then tried ignoring the small dragon in hope that it would get bored and leave Hiccup alone. That didn’t work either! The Terror started flying around his head, yanking at his hair as often as he could. Hiccup couldn’t take it anymore and ran out of his hut.

He made his way to the clubhouse, hoping that the small dragon would leave him alone. Hiccup didn’t understand what its problem was, he had done nothing to antagonize the little guy. It just seemed to have a grudge against him. Halfway to the clubhouse the Terror left Hiccup alone, but the man had already decided to at least have something to eat since he was already there. Then he would return to his work.

He entered the clubhouse to find it vacant. The others were still asleep or already out, doing what they wanted. It was peaceful these days, the dragon hunters seemed to have taken a break and left them alone for the time being. Constant patrols were happening around Dragon’s Edge for safety purposes. Not to mention with no new information on the Dragon Eye, they didn’t have a lot of reasons to leave the island.

Hiccup sat down with some food and started eating. He was enjoying the peace without the annoying Terror when Astrid came into the clubhouse. She was reading a letter and hadn’t noticed Hiccup, even when she sat down in front of him. Hiccup smiled at her distracted state. It was usually that she was very attentive to her surroundings, but the letter had caught her attention.

“Good morning,” he said.

Astrid jumped in surprise, finally lifting her eyes up from the piece of parchment.

“How long have you been sitting there?” she demanded.

“Since before you came in,” he laughed and gestured to the letter, “Heather again?”

“Yeah,” she blushed, “Her and Dagur hadn’t gotten anywhere with their search yet.”

“Unfortunate,” Hiccup commented as she went back to reading the letter.

He knew there was more in the letter, but he didn’t bother asking. Heather was Astrid’s soulmate and there were bound to be things written there he did not want to know about. The girls were in a happy relationship ever since they figured out they were soulmates, so they talked about things Hiccup didn’t want to know.

He had a thing with Astrid before she figured out Heather was her soulmate. It was fine, not all soulmates got romantically involved, so neither had a problem with being together when they weren’t confirmed soulmates. When Astrid found her soulmate and figured out she wanted to be in a relationship with her, Hiccup had let her go without a complaint.

The whole soulmate thing was strange. There wasn’t a set time when you would meet them and also there wasn’t a guarantee you ever would. The universe somehow knew when it was time for you to meet your ‘other half’ and it usually sent you a sign. The sign was an annoying animal who would not leave you alone until you found your soulmate.

The animal was usually small so it could get to you no matter where you were. When it came to Astrid, it was a chicken who had kept pecking her legs until she literally ran into Heather while trying to get away. Heather had been in a similar position, only she had one of the Night Terrors on her tail. The Night Terror had let out a happy screech and the chicken had let out a final cluck before the animals went away. That was when the girls understood they had found their soulmate.

A lot of people on Berk hadn’t found their soulmates as soon as they could have. The fact that dragons were often the animal that came to lead you had been a problem for them for a long time. When someone on Berk woke up and came face to face with a dragon, no matter the size, they hadn’t thought it meant anything good and when they did stop to think, the dragon was already dead. Now, with the war over, a lot of Hooligans had found their soulmates.

Hiccup watched as Astrid put down the letter with a smile on her face. He was happy that his friends had managed to keep their relationship strong even with the distance between them. The others still hadn’t found their soulmates, but they all wanted to. Astrid just happened to be the first out of them to get one. Hiccup did his best to not think about it, since again, there was no guarantee that you would find your soulmate. He didn’t want to spend his time waiting for something that might not even happen.

“Didn’t you say that you’ll be in your hut the whole day?” Astrid asked him after getting some food for herself only to then gesture to his plate, “I said I’d bring you food so you could work on your project.”

“I had incentive to leave my hut this morning,” Hiccup laughed, “A Terror decided that I was the reason for all of its problems and didn’t leave me alone until I left my hut.”

“Weird,” Astrid mumbled as she gave him a suspicious look, “That hadn’t happened to you before, has it?”

“No,” Hiccup shook his head and shrugged, “There’s a first time for everything.”

Astrid hummed and left the matter alone. Hiccup was almost done eating when he noticed the same Terror fly into the clubhouse, it landed near the door and stared at Hiccup. It slowly blinked at Hiccup when he went to wash his plate. The small creature didn’t do anything until Hiccup sat back down because he wanted to talk to Astrid about the patrol schedule. He only started to talk when the Terror landed on his shoulder again.

“You again,” he sighed and looked at the Terror. It licked his eye and kept its unblinking gaze firmly on Hiccup.

“Is this your friend from the morning?” Astrid asked with a laugh.

“Yes it is,” Hiccup nodded, “So Tuffnut and Ruffnut will take the – ouch!”

The Terror then yanked his hair once again. Hiccup turned to the dragon and pushed him off his shoulder with a loud huff. The small dragon landed on the ground and sneezed in his general direction. He turned back to Astrid.

“They’ll take the west – hey! Stop it!” He exclaimed again as the small dragon bit into his prosthetic.

Hiccup tried to shake the dragon off, but it didn’t work. The Terror had no plans on leaving Hiccup alone. Astrid tried to contain a laugh while Hiccup hopped around the clubhouse, trying to shake the dragon off.

“Hiccup,” she started but didn’t get to finish her thought.

The Terrible Terror finally let go of Hiccup’s prosthetic, only to bite his other leg.

“That’s it!” Hiccup shouted, “I’m getting Toothless. He can deal with you, you menace!”

Hiccup left the clubhouse with a quick goodbye. He had to drag the small dragon on his leg for most of the journey. It wasn’t until he was halfway back to his hut that the dragon let go, leaving him alone once more. Hiccup didn’t understand why the dragon had decided to annoy him. Hiccup loudly sighed as he sat down at his table. The Terror was now gone, he had no reason to wake Toothless.

Hiccup worked in peace for just a few minutes when the small dragon appeared again. The Viking took a moment to give the dragon the benefit of the doubt, hoping that the dragon would not bother him yet again. No such luck. The Terror disappeared for only a short moment before he flew into the hut then dropped a fish onto Hiccup’s head.

“For the love of – Toothless!”

The Night Fury jumped down from the bedroom as soon as he heard Hiccup call for him. Toothless quickly noticed the little menace and picked him up by his scruff. Hiccup pointed to the outside and Toothless carried the dragon out. The black dragon then placed him on the ground then walked back inside, growling deeply at the creature. Hiccup closed the hut’s doors as soon as Toothless was inside, thinking that would be the end of it.

He was wrong.

Hiccup turned around, hoping to go back to work, but could only let out a ‘manly’ scream when he saw the Terror sitting on his desk. Hiccup huffed then threw open his doors again. He got on Toothless and went off to find Astrid, hoping she would know how to get rid of his problem.

It took a good long flight around the island before he spotted her in the forest. She was in the middle of a grove, throwing her axe at the trunks. Hiccup then noticed further away to her left she had a piece of parchment and a coal pencil sitting on a stump. It seemed that she had stopped in the middle of writing her response to Heather.

“Astrid!” Hiccup called as he jumped off of the Night Fury.

“Hiccup, what’s wrong?” she immediately asked as she noted the irritated look on his face.

“It’s the dragon!” he said as he started pacing in front of her.

“Toothless?” she asked in confusion.

“The Terror! It just won’t leave me alone!” he told her while he threw his arms up in frustration.

“Just get Toothless to intimidate it, that should work,” she simply replied with a casual shrug. Astrid didn’t really understand why he was coming to her with this type of problem. He knew better than them all on how to deal with dragons.

”It didn’t work!” he exclaimed, “It wouldn’t bother me if it didn’t think that biting me, yanking my hair and dropping fish on me was funny.”

“Hiccup,” she got his attention with a gentle touch to his shoulder, “I think you’re missing the very obvious explanation.”

“What explanation?”

“The Terror is here to lead you to your soulmate.”

“That’s not possible,” he dismissed her words, “There were no new people on the Edge and I haven’t met anyone new recently.”

“Your soulmate might be someone you already know,” she pointed out, “I knew Heather for years before I found out.”

“But Heather was here when you ‘found’ her,” Hiccup reminded her, “And I don’t think any of the others have an annoying companion.”

“Fine, if it’s not here to lead you to your soulmate,” she sighed, “It will grow tired of annoying you and will leave you alone soon enough.”

“I guess so,” he relented, “I’m going to take a flight around the island. Couldn’t hurt to see that maybe one of the others do have some animal annoying them.”

“Good luck!” she told him, sending him off with a wave. She then went over and picked up her half-written letter, suddenly struck with inspiration on what to write.

~

Three days.

Three days he had been haunted by the Terrible Terror. At this point he had no other choice but to admit that it was there to guide him to his soulmate. There was just one problem. No one else on the island was in the same predicament, so Hiccup didn’t know what to do. The small dragon only left him alone when he was sleeping, eating, and or actively moving. If he sat down to do something that the Terror didn’t consider self-care or him working on finding his soulmate, the dragon made a point to go all out to bother Hiccup.

At one point, the dragon had almost singed off his eyebrows.

The gang found it hilarious. It was funny to an extent, just not when it was happening to you specifically. Hiccup had even apologized to Astrid for finding it funny when she had the chicken pecking at her until she found her soulmate. The blonde accepted his apology and had blanketed permission to laugh at his predicament. She didn’t, at least not to his face, unlike the others who did.

“Should I just wander across islands until I found them?” he asked Astrid one evening.

The gang were eating dinner. It was one of the few times the Terror left Hiccup alone, though it was still watching him from the rafters.

“Find who?” she asked absentmindedly since she was reading another letter from Heather.

“My soulmate.”

“You could do that,” Astrid agreed while her blue eyes looked up from the letter, “Seems like it would take you way too long though.”

“Much too long,” Fishlegs agreed, “Why don’t you visit the island where we’ve met people first?”

“Or Berk,” Astrid added, “It’s the farthest away and if your soulmate is there, you would shave off a lot of time.”

“We are over do for a visit to home,” Fishlegs pointed out.

“Okay then,” Hiccup shrugged, “That’s the best idea so far. Tomorrow morning we’ll leave for Berk.”

“Heather and Dagur are visiting in a couple of days,” Astrid told them, “We should be back by then, right?”

“Yeah, I don’t think it will take long for me to find out if anyone has the same problem as me,” Hiccup nodded and went back to eating.

He ate slowly, enjoying the time without having to defend himself from the infuriating Terror. A visit to Berk would be good even if he didn’t find his soulmate. Hiccup was sure that no matter what, Stoick would have some advice for him.

~

“There isn’t anyone looking for a soulmate as far as I know,” Stoick told him as he handed him a clean washcloth, “Sorry, son.”

“It’s okay,” Hiccup sighed as he cleaned the scratches on his forearm, “It was a long shot anyway.”

“And this Terror has been doing this to you regularly?” Stoick questioned while he motioned at the scratches.

“No,” Hiccup shook his head with a puzzled look on his face, “This was the first time it actually harmed me.”

His father nodded and hummed. Hiccup cleaned his injury then quickly picked up a plate of food Stoick had prepared. He had been eating more than usual these days, desperate for any break in the torment the Terror constantly inflicted.

It was already late evening, tomorrow they would leave Berk. In the morning, Hiccup had taken upon it himself to go through the village in pursuit of anyone searching for their soulmate. He sadly had gotten nowhere. When he had arrived at the forge to work on something to clear his head, the Terror had pelted him with pieces of metal until Hiccup left the building and went back to walking through the village.

When Hiccup had tried to go to the cove to get some peace and quiet, the Terror had caught his arm in its claws. It then had pulled until the claws broke skin and Hiccup retreated to his home. He had made his way to his room and fallen asleep for just a couple of minutes, only to wake when Stoick had come home looking for him. Astrid had apparently told Stoick that Hiccup wanted to talk to him, so his father had come to see what he wanted.

“So it got more desperate when you got to Berk?” Stoick asked.

“Yes,” Hiccup confirmed between bites of his meal.

“You put distance between your soulmate,” his father stated.

“How do you know that?” Hiccup questioned with a tilt of his head.

“When I was younger, my father used to tell me this one story,” Stoick started while setting his cup of mead down on the table, “I don’t remember the details, but it was about a man who had a boar to lead him to his soulmate. He got injured several times before he decided to leave his home in search of his other half, the boar got more annoying than threatening as he got closer to the island that housed one of his allies. When the man had reached his allies the only thing the boar did was nudge him forward. The man’s soulmate turned out to be the new chief of the island, a woman he had met only once before.”

“So you’re saying that the reason why the Terror harmed me was because I got further away from my soulmate?” Hiccup clarified. His father nodded in agreement.

Hiccup let out a tired groan and pushed away the food he had been eating.

“We went to Berk because it was the farthest island we knew people on,” Hiccup told his father, “I wanted to get it out of the way first.”

“You’ll find them,” Stoick told him, “The Terror wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t the right time.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” Hiccup sighed and left the table to go back to his room.

~

Hiccup watched as Astrid walked into the clubhouse. She had a smile on her face and was humming a cheery tune to herself. Hiccup had his head in his hands, quietly observing everything happening around him. He watched as she went around the building, gathering things in a picnic basket.

“Oh,” Astrid gasped as she finally noticed him, “What are you doing here?”

“Contemplating life,” he sighed as he put his head down on the table.

“Where’s your little friend?” she asked with an amused smile.

Hiccup didn’t answer her for a silent moment. When she was about to ask again he then lifted his prosthetic from under the table, where attached to the wood was the Terror. It was chewing the leg, seemingly enjoying itself.

“At least it calmed down,” Astrid comforted him with a shrug.

“Yeah,” Hiccup groaned as he lifted his head. His tired eyes landed on her, “Packing a picnic?”

“We agreed I’ll meet them halfway, Heather and I wanted to spend a night away from the Edge,” Astrid explained, “Get some peace and quiet from the others, you know?”

“Smart,” Hiccup agreed, “What about Dagur?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot,” she turned to him again and leaned on the table behind her, “They found some sort of riddle in Oswald’s journal. They think it’s talking about one of his stops, but they can’t figure it out. So if you don’t mind, Dagur wants to see you so you could take a look at it?”

“Why do they think I’ll be able to figure it out?”

“Because you know more islands and have a better understanding of maps,” Astrid told him, “Will you take a look at it?”

“I will,” he easily agreed, “Anything to forget about this for a moment.”

He pointed down to the Terror, the small dragon had moved on to pulling at his pant leg. He was tired at this point and anything would be better than dwelling on the whole soulmate thing.

~

Astrid had already left while the others were still going about their day. Hiccup was sitting in his hut with the Terrible Terror watching him from the table. Toothless had grown tired of the Terrible Terror and did his best to stay away when he knew Hiccup would get bothered by it. Hiccup had a map in front of him, one of all the islands that they had visited. He wanted to come up with a path he could follow that would help him visit the most islands in the shortest span of time.

“I will gut you!”

Hiccup perked up at hearing Dagur’s voice from outside of his hut. The door opened and Dagur stepped inside. He had quickly thrown the doors closed behind him before he let out a loud breath then turned to Hiccup.

“Hiccup! Astrid said I would find you here,” he greeted.

“Dagur, hey,” Hiccup welcomed before gazing back down at his map. He drew the last line on the map which marked the last island he would visit if he hadn’t found his soulmate by then.

Hiccup felt Dagur step up behind him. He could feel the older man’s breath fan his neck as Dagur looked down at the map as well. Hiccup suppressed a pleased shiver because he could only assume that would freak the Berserker out. Normally Hiccup didn’t like people being in his personal space, yet he never seemed to mind when it came to Dagur.

At first, it had been like it was with just anyone else. Hiccup had hated being touched by the redhead, but then Dagur had stopped trying to kill him and had saved Toothless, all the while trying to prove that he had changed. Then, little by little, Hiccup noticed that he didn’t care when Dagur touched him. A hand on his shoulder, a pat on his back, a quick hug in greeting, it was all normal to Hiccup.

He tried not to think about other times, like when he would still shy away when Snotlout patted his back in congratulations. Not also forgetting how he did his best to not get in the middle of a twins’ hug, or how when Fishlegs ran up to him, getting into his personal space, and he had to stop himself from cringing away. He didn’t think about that. He couldn’t, because if he did, it would just raise more questions than offer answers.

“What’s this?” Dagur asked as he pointed to the pages scattered on the tabletop.

“This –“ Hiccup cleared his throat and swallowed the spit that had gathered in his mouth. He shooed away the Terror, who had perched itself on the corner of the map, “ – is a map.”

“I can see that,” Dagur chuckled, “What’s it for?”

“I marked the fastest path that lets one visit all of the islands,” he explained with a shrug.

“Why do you need that?” Dagur asked while reaching his hand around the taller yet skinnier Viking. He then picked up the map and fully stepped back away from Hiccup.

Hiccup let out a deep breath before turning around. He let Dagur examine the massive parchment for a moment before he answered.

“I need to find my soulmate and that’s the list of islands where I have met someone,” Hiccup shrugged.

Dagur turned to look at him before he handed over the map just as the Terror landed on Hiccup’s shoulder.

“You too, huh?” Dagur asked as he eyed the small dragon, who had started pulling at Hiccup’s hair once again.

“What do you mean?” Hiccup asked. He gently rolled up the chart of isles before setting it on the table behind him.

“I have a menace like that too,” Dagur gestured to the Terror then over to the Hiccup’s front door, “Managed to leave it outside for the moment.”

“What a coincidence,” Hiccup chuckled while heavily leaning back against the table. He cleared his throat and decided to drop the subject, “Astrid said you needed help with a riddle?”

“Yeah, about that, I don’t need help,” Dagur sheepishly admitted.

“You figured it out?” Hiccup asked with interest.

“It wasn’t a riddle in the first place,” The Berserker shrugged while he leaned back on the wall behind him, “When I read it, I knew what island he was talking about. But Heather needed a break and she missed Astrid, so I just acted like I had no idea and suggested we come here for help.”

“What island was he talking about by using a riddle?” Hiccup questioned, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Berk,” Dagur simply answered, “And it wasn’t a riddle, my father just used my description of the island. After visiting for the first time, I told him that Berk was ‘an island full of life and wonder, with people who took your breath away.’ He used those words and Heather had no idea what it was about.”

Hiccup nodded and they stayed where they were, letting the silence linger as they gazed at one another for a few more moments. The Terror was still on his shoulder, though it had now moved to gently nibbling at his ear. The small dragon had been acting way nicer than ever before, but Hiccup didn’t give it much thought. He was about to suggest they both go to the clubhouse. It made no sense for them to stay in his hut, but then another Terrible Terror suddenly appeared and landed on Dagur’s head.

“Get off me!” the older man immediately yelled and started to bat at the dragon, hoping to get it off his head.

The other Terror didn’t budge, going as far as to dig his claws into Dagur’s scalp. Hiccup hid a smile, though he instantly felt sympathy for the other man. This had happened to him too, so he quickly stepped up to the angry Viking and tried to assist him. It was difficult since Dagur had begun to spin about in place, all the while trying to pry the small dragon from his red hair.

“Okay – just let me – c’mon –” Hiccup stammered as he tried to get close enough to offer his help.

His own Terror had decided it was the perfect opportunity to mess with him and get under his feet. Hiccup unexpectedly stumbled and crashed into Dagur. They fell hard to the ground as the shorter man’s arms immediately found their way around Hiccup’s middle. The older had cradled him to his armored chest to soften the blow of landing on the unforgiving wooden floor.

Hiccup lifted his head off of where it had landed on Dagur’s body. He could feel warmth radiating from where Dagur’s hands managed to secure themselves along his waist. At the same time he could also feel a warming blush crawl up his ashen face. He was about to ask if Dagur was alright when he noticed the two Terrors on either side of Dagur’s head. The dragon’s eyes were locked on the young Berkian, giving Hiccup expectant looks.

“Oh,” He gasped as it finally hit him.

“Are you okay?” Dagur asked him as he lifted his head from the floor, a dazed haze in his green eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hiccup reassured him as he quickly rose to his feet then gave Dagur a hand to help him up, “Never better actually.”

“Are you sure?” Dagur questioned again after he took his hand, getting to his feet, “You’re acting kind of weird.”

“Dagur,” Hiccup chuckled, “You’re looking for your soulmate, right?”

“Yes,” he answered with a pinch of confusion in his brows.

“Well, so am I,” Hiccup told him and squeezed the man’s hand.

“What does that – oh,” Dagur said for now he too understood. A wide toothed grin broke out on his face, “We’re soulmates.”

“Yeah, we are,” Hiccup agreed with a chuckle.

The two Terrors together let out a chorus of happy croons then finally flew away. Neither man even bothered to notice since they were too fixated on one another. They seemed to unconsciously gravitate to one another, the distance immediately reducing between them. Hiccup couldn’t even tell you what he was thinking as he leaned down and slowly connected his lips with Dagur’s. The kiss wasn’t anything extraordinary, yet it still was incredibly special.

It was their first kiss, the first of many.

[lakesandquarries]

oh it’s you (that i lie with)

for Oumota Week Day 2 - Timeloop

warnings: major character death (temporary but graphic)

notes: title from as the world caves in by matt maltese but i just listened to the cover by sarah cothran. happy oumota week everyone!! consider joining my oumota discord maybe!

AO3 Link

Kokichi lazily spins a french fry through his ketchup as Momota takes a seat across from him. The movement makes the table jostle. Kokichi doesn’t move.

“Getting used to it, huh?” Momota asks. “I guess this is just life now. Beats being dead, at least.”

“You failed, then?”

“I think every smoke alarm is busted.”

At 6:15 pm, the cafeteria will explode. A stray spark will hit an errant gas line and the entire place will go up in flames. There will be no survivors. 

Kokichi knows this because he has experienced it eleven times already.

The first time was unexpected. Obviously. When he woke up this morning (eleven mornings ago) in his dorm room he assumed today (eleven todays ago) would be normal. 

That assumption was disproven before he died and the day reset, but that’s unrelated.

The first time he died, the last supposedly normal minutes of his life, he and Momota were at this very same table. They weren’t alone then. Their friends had been with them, and Akamatsu had been in the middle of telling a story about a bird flying into the room during one of her classes, and suddenly there had been the loudest sound Kokichi had ever heard. He’d felt an intense, searing heat for just a moment, and then something large and heavy falling on top of him, and then he didn’t feel anything because he was dead.

When he woke up in his bed again he’d assumed it was a dream. Even when the morning played out much like the morning in his “dream” - well, that wasn’t too strange. Saihara had lost his favourite socks, but he did that often. Yumeno fell asleep in the cafeteria during breakfast, but she did that every day. Amami tripped down the stairs and had to go to the nurse, but he never paid attention to his surroundings. 

And then, right at the end of breakfast, Momota got down on one knee, presented Kokichi with a ring pop, and asked him to go on a date with him after dinner.

The beginning of the day had been typical. It wasn’t strange for his dream to match with reality, because his life was predictable.

That was not something he could have predicted, unless he had suddenly developed a new superpower.

The first time, he’d beamed at Momota, took the ring pop, and said he would be delighted to and that if this was a prank he’d have Momota killed.

The second time, he’d just said “What the fuck,” and then took off running.

The rest of the day went differently, but it was just close enough to make it clear. Kokichi had snuck around unused halls, spying on the classes he was skipping. Chabashira still had a five minute argument with the teacher during math, Hoshi still spilled a beaker in science. This time he got to watch Akamatsu’s unfinished bird story play out.

Just like before, he went to the cafeteria, and just like before he felt his bones flattened and then nothing at all.

In the present, whatever that really means, he tells Momota, “I hope I don’t get crushed again.”

Momota frowns. “At least it’s quick. The fire was the worst.”

“Well, I at least want some variety. It is the spice of life and all.”

Leaning forward, Momota rests his chin on his hand. His eyes keep darting to the clock on the wall. “I’ll toss you into the fire this time, if you want.”

“My hero.” Kokichi folds his arms behind his head and leans back.

They’d really tried, this time. They’d tried every time. This time, Kokichi had barely broken into the kitchen when he was caught. At least it was one of the kinder chefs. They’d given him french fries and instructed him to stay in the cafeteria where they could see him. 

“We still have some time,” Momota argues. “I mean, 6:15 is in like, an hour. We can at least prepare for next time.”

“Hm, would you like to scope out some more interesting places to die? I’m getting bored of the cafeteria. At least maybe something different will crush me.” He’s fairly certain it’s a table that keeps killing him, at least in the last few loops. For a second he’d felt the texture of the wood crushed against his face. 

“We’re gonna figure it out,” Momota says. His voice is full of empty confidence, a thin soap bubble that will pop if looked at for too long.

“Well, of course. You still owe me that date, after all.”

Perhaps it’s his imagination, but the glint in Momota’s eyes gets sharper. “I do. I’m a man of my word, you know.”

“You’ve given me your word more than a few times. I think you might owe me a few dates, my dearest Momota-chan.”

Momota’s eyes dart to the clock again, and Kokichi follows his gaze. 5:25.

“I’ll take you on as many dates as you want, Ouma.”

Momota had asked him out again in the third loop, and the fourth. Kokichi had accepted those, though in the fourth one Momota hadn’t bothered to drop to one knee and hadn’t even offered him a ring pop. He’d just turned to Kokichi and asked, “Will you go out with me?”

“I want a ring first,” Kokichi had said in response. 

“A ring,” Momota repeated. “What kind?”

“Grape.”

Momota had presented the ring pop, and Kokichi said yes.

In the fifth loop, Momota got down on one knee again.

“Ouma,” he started.

“Will you go on a date with me?” Kokichi asked. Momota reeled back, looking around the room in surprise. 

“Uh….yeah.” He stood up, blinking heavily. “How -”

“I have my ways,” Kokichi said with a wink. 

He’d skipped his next classes. That had been the first time he broke into the kitchen. He did a decent job sneaking, and his little recon mission was how he figured out the likely cause. He’d only gotten a brief glimpse before the chef kicked him out.

Momota was waiting for him at that same table. “Ouma,” he’d called out, waving him over, and Kokichi obliged him by taking a seat in the same chair he’d died in four times. “Are you hiding something?”

“Always. Are you?”

“You knew what I was doing this morning.”

“I’ve known you were in love with me for months.” Kokichi leaned back in his chair, twirling a strand of hair around his finger. “Obviously I knew what you were doing.”

“But you didn’t! The first - Uh, I mean...Oh, fuck it. You know what’s happening, right?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He kicked his chair back, balancing it on two legs. He was not going to be the one to say it first, and it was so fun to get him worked up like this. “I mean, I know everything, but -”

“The loops! You’re the only one acting different! The first loop, you were surprised, the second loop you were - and now you’re stealing my lines!” Momota leaned towards him, hands on the table.

Kokichi raised a single eyebrow. “Your first performance was your best, Momota-chan.”

“So you are aware. How?”

The chair’s legs thudded against the ground. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I…” Momota hesitates, bluster wavering before it comes back full force. “Obviously, the universe knew I was the best person to task with fixing this. I’m gonna save everyone, just you watch.”

“Oh, good. I was worried I’d have to do something.” He stood up abruptly, almost knocking the chair over. “I’ll see you for our date, then.”

A hand grabbed his sleeve, pulling him back down. Momota was reaching across the entire table, gripping Kokichi’s sleeve tightly. His brows were pinched together, face unguarded and open and desperate. There was only a second of hesitation before Kokichi ripped his sleeve away, narrowing his eyes at the man across from him.

“You can’t seriously plan to do nothing,” Momota insisted. “There’s gotta be a reason -”

“Maybe I’m supposed to be working against you,” Kokichi said. His expression fell away to blankness. “You’re so eager to trust, Momota-chan. It’s very stupid of you.”

“That shit stopped working on me last year.” Momota jumped to his feet, hands pressed against the table as he leaned dangerously forward. Kokichi doesn’t need to have time traveled to know he will inevitably topple forward and crash into the table. Perhaps he would be the one to die to it this loop. “Ouma, I know you. Fuck, I asked you out this morning, you really think I’m still gonna fall for your evil bullshit?”

“I mean, it’s worked before. Recently, even.”

“You broke in through my window! Look, you’re missing the point. I know you wanna save everyone as much as I do.” His eyes were alight, grin too sharp for Kokichi’s liking.

“It’s in the kitchen.” 

Momota leaned forward again, and there it was - he fell face first onto the table.

“Idiot. Maybe the universe did choose me to help you. You’re clearly too stupid to figure it out on your own.”

Momota didn’t waste a second. He pushed himself back up as Kokichi spoke, completely ignoring his words. “See! We’re a perfect team, Ouma. What’s in the kitchen?”

A mess was in the kitchen. Every surface had at least five distinct fire hazards, and all together it combined into something unfathomably dangerous. A stray spark ignited a chain, and at the end of that chain was a crater.

Since that loop, they’d tried different ways to fix the kitchen. They’d tried scoping out times where no one was there (there weren’t any), they’d tried convincing the chefs something needed to be fixed (they’d been kicked out), they’d tried fixing it themselves (the explosion happened three hours earlier that loop), they’d tried setting off every smoke detector they could find (none of them worked). 

It’s starting to look a little hopeless.

Students begin filing into the cafeteria, happy and carefree and unconcerned. Akamatsu’s voice carries as she rushes to their table. “Ouma-kun, Momota-kun! I was wondering where you’d gone. The strangest thing happened in math earlier -”

Kokichi lays his head on the table. In his mind, he could only see Akamatsu’s broken body, her flesh beginning to bubble. Her screams were always the loudest.

It‘s always the same. Akamatsu starts her stupid story. Saihara arrives late, feathers in his hair, and Harukawa trails after him and glares at Kokichi. 

She usually survives the longest, from what Kokichi can see. She stays standing until the end. Saihara crumbles quick and quiet.

“Are you alright?” Saihara asks as he takes a seat next to Kokichi. 

Kokichi looks up at him. He’s too tired for expressions. “You’re going to die in twelve minutes.”

“Right,” Saihara says, and then he turns to Akamatsu and asks if she can help him get the feathers out of his hair.

They smile, and laugh, and talk, and at 6:15 exactly, that spark is set off.

Kokchi lives a moment longer than the last few loops, long enough to see Momota crushed by a falling piece of ceiling. 

“Liar,” Kokichi says to him, and then he too is gone.

---

He wakes up in bed.

[phykios]

i meant to have this up on friday but i didn’t bc i’m lame anyway, this is dedicated to my dearest dearest peyton 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙 one year ago last friday i had the distinct pleasure of sliding into her dms on discord, several fics and 72 separate aus later, here we are. so, for our friendiversary, have a sexy origin story for percabeth 😁

Say So, for @darkmagyk​ [read on ao3] rated E for sexual content (spicy!!! pls be advised!!!) cw: recreational drug use, experimental bondage, and an accidental hit during intercourse

“I don’t think it’s working,” Annabeth says.

“Just give it a minute.” Sofia sounds gone already, hazy and dreamy.

She gives it a minute.

“Am I supposed to feel something?”

“Yeah.”

“Well I’m not.”

“You gotta be patient,” says Jordan. Throaty and full, her already deep voice is even deeper, almost vibrating in the air.

Annabeth blinks. “Maybe they gave you actual grass. Or maybe I’m too much of a square for it to affect me.” Sofia snorts. “I’m serious. You know at my summer camp they started giving me counselor responsibilities when I was twelve? Percy always said I wouldn’t know what fun was if it hit me in the face. And it’s not like he was wrong, like I spent most of my childhood reading ancient Greek or learning how to use a knife but there were some pretty ridiculous extenuating circumstances and I really wanted this older boy at camp to like me, and why am I talking so fast?”

Masako giggles. “You’re stoned.”

“I am?”

“Stoned,” she confirms.

“High,” says Sofia.

“Intoxicated!” sings Jordan.

“Oh, wow.” She can feel every blade of grass beneath her, tickling along her bare legs, the wind caressing her face, the sounds of Berkeley--frat boys playing Ultimate, rush-hour traffic, a thousand different conversations about nothing and everything--muffled behind a glass wall. “I’m high.”

Sofia laughs. “How does it feel?”

“It feels…” She licks her lips. They taste like avocado fries and sunshine. “It feels like…” Slow. The turn of the earth so soft and gentle, like the tides in the lake when Percy is in a good mood. Like the liminal space between sleepfulness and wakefulness, when you’ve taken a nap and can’t remember what year it is. Like wading through a magical time spell, but warm. “You know what I mean?”

“Annabeth,” says Masako. “You didn’t say anything.”

“What?” She raises her head, looking over at her friend. Her eyes are closed, her hands running along the grass of the quad. “I didn’t?”

“Nothing.”

Annabeth lets her head fall back, thumping the earth. “Oh, theoi, I’m high.”

Overcome, Jordan starts laughing, curling onto her side. The rest aren’t far behind. 

Soon they’re not laughing at her anymore, they’re just laughing to laugh. Laughter is fun, she realizes, her breath and blood whooshing through her body, every muscle and bone in her body united in one single pursuit of joy. Her eyes are squeezed shut, cheeks aching from the force of her smile, her body curled in on itself, wracked with euphoria.

Sofia giggles so hard she snorts, setting them all off again.

Wading through an onslaught of laughter, high and squeaky, Annabeth gasps out, “Why am I laughing so much?”

“Because you’re high, girl!” Jordan crows. She has turned herself over on her front, her face pressed against the grass. “Have you really never gotten high before?”

“Don’t tease her,” says Sofia, awkwardly patting Annabeth’s knee. “You know she hasn’t done anything.”

She has done stuff, she almost says--before she shuts her mouth with an audible clack.

“Not even at your camp?” Jordan asks, befuddled. Befuddled is a funny word. “No one ever snuck in some alcohol or whatever?”

Thoughts running at a snail’s pace, she has to seriously rack her brain to think if one of the Hermes’ kids ever brought in any illicit substances. Soda, minor monsters, the most powerful weapon ever created--but not any alcohol or marijuana. She thinks. “Our camp director was really strict about alcohol.”

“Lame,” says Masako.

“I mean, he was in recovery,” says Annabeth, her go-to story about Mr. D, just in case anyone ever asks. “It was a whole thing. He couldn’t have it, so we couldn’t have it.” 

“Not lame,” she amends.

“Okay, I think,” she says, a memory appearing out of the fog, after Gaea, after all that nonsense, “I think my co-counselor Katie made some joints out of bay leaves once.” 

The younger kids had gone to bed, sent off with a healthy dose of Clovis’ dream magic to ward away any nightmares, but the older campers had stayed up, huddled around the central brazier into the wee hours of the morning. Still so exhausted she could barely see straight, falling asleep on top of Percy, he had hauled her away to bed, but not before he had declined something for the both of them, something small and white and made to be smoked.

“You can get high off of bay leaves?” Sofia asks. 

Annabeth nods. “That’s how the… the fucking…” the word was on the tip of her tongue. The thing that Rachel did. But long ago. Oracle! “The Oracle, she got high, in ancient Greece. With bay leaves. She’d smoke them and receive prophecy.”

Jordan lifts her head. “Cool. You got ancient Greek high.”

Annabeth nearly says something about Olympus, or maybe Blackjack, an amazing joke about being high and Greek just on the tip of her tongue, but she has just enough self control not to. “No, I was tired. Percy and I went to bed.” 

“Laaaaaaaaame,” says Masako.

It’s just good-natured ribbing. And they’re all high as kites. But Annabeth still frowns. “I’m not lame.”

“You’re amazing, don’t get me wrong,” Masako says, “but you are so lame. You’ve never gotten high before, you’re probably going to marry your first boyfriend… you are so vanilla.”

“And we love that about you!” Sofia jumps in.

Annabeth can’t feel bad right now, but she can feel a little lost. “But I love Percy,” she says. “Why wouldn’t I marry him?”

Percy is perfect. He’s handsome and kind and powerful and funny and brave and handsome. He’s more than anyone could hope for. And he loves her. 

“You’re really going to marry him?” Jordan asks. “Like, for real?”

She shrugs. “Yeah, but he says he can’t propose before he finds the perfect ring. He promised he wouldn’t make me wait too long. I don’t want to have Chase on my diploma.” 

“Oh my god,” Masako giggles, “you’re even more vanilla than I thought.” 

“The dick can’t be that good,” Jordan muses, examining a particularly long blade of grass. 

It is, but they don’t need to know that. 

Sofia snorts. “It is?”

Oh, fuck. Annabeth giggles. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“Tell us!” Masako sits bolt upright, eyes wide. “Tell us everything!”

She slams her hands over her face. “Noooo,” she laughs, curling in on herself further. “I can’t.”

All at once, they scream, like the three Erinyes swooping down onto an unsuspecting prey. Or the Cabin Ten campers when someone gets too close with any stray ketchup.

“Spill!” they shriek. “Spill!”

No one has ever demanded to know the details of her sex life before. Even at camp, she and Percy are given a wide berth. Something about walking through Tartartus with your partner apparently takes your sex life from giggle-worthy to kind of intimidating. That’s the biggest difference between her demigod friends and her mortal friends, Annabeth is finding. Other than that, they’re pretty much exactly the same. “What do you want to know?” she asks, naively.

The floodgates open.

“When did you guys first do it?”

“Where?”

“How was it?”

“What does he like?”

“His abs though--”

“Is he good at head?”

“Favorite position!”

“His dick is big, I just know it--”

Over and over, overlapping, a whirlwind of questions, she can’t process them nearly as fast as they are coming--all she can do is laugh, breathless and airy, until they all dissolve into giggles once again.

She’s getting a little tired of this constant laughing.

Even that thought makes her start all over again.

“Okay,” she gasps, “okay, I can’t--I can’t answer all of those.”

Jordan waves her arms. “Me first! First time!”

Annabeth shrugs. “Um, it was… the weekend of Thanksgiving, a few months after we started dating. His parents were at a mixer for their writing group, and I was staying with them during my school break.” What else is she supposed to say? That they’d been talking about it for weeks? That Annabeth had been so excited she’d forgotten to even ask him about condoms? That Percy had been so concerned with making sure he got her off and didn’t hurt her that he’d spent almost an hour fingering her? 

They squeal in unison. “His parents’ house!” Sofia gasps, hands on her face. “So scandalous! How was it?”

Annabeth blushes. “Amazing.” 

And it had been, as amazing as a first time can be. Any person could only ever dream of having a partner as attentive and respectful as Percy for their first time.

“If he’s the only one you’ve ever had, how do you know it was that good?” Jordan asks. “I thought my first boyfriend was good, too, right up until I started dating Julie.” 

“I think three consecutive orgasms counts as being good,” Annabeth drawls.

Once again, the screaming.

“Three?” shrieks Masako.

“Three.”

“Your first time?!”

“He was really really really concerned I wouldn’t get off!” 

Sofia collapses on top of her, hands scrabbling for her shoulders, and always, always giggling. “You marry that boy--you marry him right now!”

“I’m trying!”

“And it’s still good?” Masako’s eyes are as wide as saucers.

Normally, she might be a little reluctant to share--even with Piper. The eighth of this edible, though, is certainly helping grease the wheels of conversation. “It’s always good.”

Jordan groans, throwing a handful of grass in her face. “Bullshit.”

“Always?”

She frowns, really thinking about it, trying to remember a time it was bad. It’s surprisingly really hard. “Sometimes we don’t have time for three orgasms.” 

“How often do you fake it?”

“What do you mean?” Annabeth asks Masako.

“You know… fake it.”

“Why would I fake it? If I fake it, he won’t know I haven’t come yet.” She laughs, more than a giggle but less than a guffaw. It’s so silly. Whoever thought of faking an orgasm?  “How would I even do that?” 

“You’ve never faked it?” Sofia is incredulous, her jaw hanging open. 

Annabeth sits up, flailing a little, reaching forward to touch her toes. Just because. “Of course not. Do people actually do that?”

“Sure,” says Masako. “Sometimes.”

“Why?” 

“I hate you,” Jordan moans, “I hate you so much, you and your stupid sex god boyfriend who makes love to you every night like you’re in some trashy period drama with the…” Her hands come up, weakly making a wavy shape in the air. “The things. You know.”

Masako tilts her head. “Hoop skirts?”

Sofia pitches forward, hands coming flat on the grass. “Okay, Annabeth. Prove to us you’re not vanilla. Craziest place you’ve ever done it.”

All three girls lean in, now, expectant, hungry.

Annabeth frowns.

Where was the craziest place they had done it?

They’d done it a lot in the last few years. His apartment in the city, Cabin Three, her boarding school room… 

Oh. Right.

She flushes.

They lean in even closer.

Well, she can’t tell them about the time they had sex in the temple of Neptune in New Rome, but she can tell them about--“One time, at camp,” she mumbles, playing with a shoelace, “we… Percy is in charge of the boathouse, because--because he’s so good at sailing, you know? So, one day, we both passed our chores off to a couple other counselors, then he took out one of the canoes, rowed us out into the middle of the lake, and…” She glances up, bashful.

Cue the screaming. 

Annabeth covers her face with her arms, falling back down onto the quad.

“At your summer camp!” Masako cries, gleeful. 

“My word!” Playfully kicking her ankle, Jordan pretends to fan herself, like Hazel still does sometimes when she’s startled by something really risque. “Imagine if the children had seen you!”

The children hadn’t seen them, but the naiads definitely had--and had tried to capsize them for their trouble. She hadn’t been able to do any lake-related activities for a week without getting soaked by a stray wave which, coincidentally, managed to avoid hitting everyone else.

“What else?” Sofia asks, practically vibrating. “Craziest kink!”

“Um…” She frowns, screwing up her face so she thinks extra hard. Have they… done anything kinky? They have sex a lot, yeah, and not always in their bedrooms, but other than that… “I… don’t… know…”

Sex with Percy is always amazing--that’s not a lie. But, maybe it’s gotten a little… same-y.

“Well, well, well.” Sofia slow-claps it out, her rings clinking together. “I think she’s ready for the big leagues, don’t you, girls?” 

Through her fingers, Annabeth glances at her. “What do you mean?”

“Bondage.”

“Bondage?” She blinks. “Like, tying each other up?”

Annabeth doesn’t think she’s ever been tied up before. Well, except for the time she wanted to hear the Sirens, but Percy had left her with her knife, so that didn’t really count. 

“Last time I met up with Skylar, we went back to his, and he has this old-timey bed frame, with the slats, right? So I took the belt from my dress, and--”

“Okay, okay,” Annabeth cuts in, covering her face again. “I get the point.”

Maybe her friends have a point. Maybe she is a little vanilla.

Sofia pats her knee. “Next time you guys have sex--”

“So, in like, three hours,” Jordan snorts.

“--take a scarf or a tie or whatever and tie his hands to the headboard. Trust me, he will flip. Out.”

Annabeth nods, taking mental notes. “Hands to the headboard. Got it.” She’s not sure if he even has any ties, but she’s resourceful. She can cobble something together. “And… then what?”

Sofia shrugs. “Kiss him. Do a striptease. Leave him there. I dunno. Whatever you want.”

Masako scrambles to her feet, windmilling to keep her balance. “The Bon Me truck just pulled up,” she gasps, “and I am starving.”

And thus, that particular conversation is over, thanks to the munchies.

***

Truth be told, she kind of forgets it pretty much entirely. Most of that day is gone, the finer details swallowed up in a haze of heat waves and peanut sauce.

That is, until New Rome’s annual pre-Saturnalia mixer: dress code, lighter side of formal. Whatever that means. 

“Hey, babe?” Percy pokes his head in the bathroom, button-down half undone. “I need your eye for a second.”

She grunts around the bobby pin held between her teeth, sliding another one through some hitherto-unknown dimension to hold a curl in place. 

“What do you think, this tie with this jacket?” He holds the two of them together, the black and white Greek key pattern contrasting nicely against the navy blue fabric. “Or will that cause an incident?”

“Probably an incident,” she says, slowly, slipping the bobby pin from her mouth. Then, a thought poking at the back of her skull. “How long have you had that?”

He glances at it. “The tie? Paul gave it to me for graduation.”

“That was nice of him.”

“I’m pretty sure he got it from the Met gift shop, but yeah.” All smiles, he slides the jacket on, tie crumpled in his balled fist. “You’re right, no tie.”

She grunts, noncommittal, gaze sliding away as she tries to remember… something.

“You good?”

“...Yeah,” she says, eventually. “Just spaced out for a second.”

“Alright. You about ready to go?”

She glances at her hair in the mirror, the makeup on the counter. “Give me twenty.”

“Sure thing.” Then he goes out, a few moments of silence passing before she hears the sink turn on as he takes care of the dishes. 

How in Hades did she end up with the perfect man? Truly.

Percy continues to exude perfection at the party, despite the fact that he is clearly less than comfortable, not that she can blame him. Some of the older citizens of New Rome are a little less reserved with their opinions of the Greeks, Percy’s hand clenching around his glass of sparkling grape juice every time someone badmouths camp, their home, but they both relax as soon as they finish making the rounds of NRU’s board of trustees and other college officials, peeling away to find Frank and Reyna and the rest of their friends. 

Still, Annabeth can’t quite focus. 

“Hey.” Percy leans in, his hand against the small of her back, murmuring into her ear. “Are you okay?”

“Hm?” Gods, his hand is so big and warm. All that time in the gym is paying off, too, the weedy, skinny teenager she fell in love with blossoming into a young man, broad shoulders and firm chest like a Phidian sculpture.

“You’re just kind of quiet tonight. Did you sleep okay?”

She blinks at him, thoughts coming back into focus. “Uh--yeah, I’m good. Just--”

“Spaced out for a second?” Making a face, he grins back at her, unrepentant. “You wanna ditch the party?”

“Do you?”

He looks around, eyeing Hylla Ramirez-Arellano as she loudly boasts about being Jeff Bezos’ findom. “A little.”

Well, Annabeth is happy to be his excuse. 

Citing a (completely fake) headache, they make their graceful exit, walking back to their apartment in the cool California night, hand in hand, Percy carrying her heels as she walks barefoot down the sidewalks. 

It’s a quiet night. Percy squeezes her hand every few steps, and she squeezes back, lifting her face to the clear night sky, thoughts she can’t catch slipping through the cracks like wisps of clouds across the moon. But that’s okay. She’s pretty sure they’re good thoughts.

“You sure you’re alright?” Percy asks as they get home, closing the door behind them. “You've been kind of out of it all night.”

Kissing him on the cheek, she shrugs out of her nice coat, slipping it up on their makeshift coat rack, fashioned from a piece of driftwood that had nearly conked Percy on the head the first time they ever went down to the beach. “I’m fine, Percy, promise. Just kind of a bleh day, you know? Nothing a few cuddles and a movie won’t fix.”

At that, he beams, dropping Annabeth’s shoes on the floor. “I’ll get the popcorn!”

"Let me shower first," Annabeth says. Hopefully a shower will clear her head a little.

It doesn't.

Changing into her pajamas, she ruffles her curls with her microfiber towel, frowning as she comes out of the bathroom. Percy's good habits are rubbing off on her; she's left a lot of crap lying around that needs picking up. Collecting stray bobby pins from the vanity, a curling iron from the top of the dresser, and an alternate dress option from where she had left it on the bed, she putters about the room, tidying as she goes, when she stops. Percy's tie lays crumbled at the head of the bed where he had tossed it earlier.

She picks it up, running it between her fingers. It's not exactly silk, but it's still a decently strong weave, machine-made for mass production, inoffensively soft. Annabeth wraps it around her finger, pulling tight, and a flash of heat rushes through her, like a wave off the lava climbing wall. 

“So there’s this guy on Youtube who makes popcorn with Lao Gan Ma spicy chili crisp, and it sounded absolutely amazing,” says Percy, walking into their room, popcorn bowl in hand. Annabeth whips around, the tie crumpled in her fist. “I tried to keep the spice level down, but let me know if it’s too much and I can make another one.”

Annabeth blinks, momentarily uncomprehending. “Uh--sure! Sounds good.”

“Did you pick a movie while you were in the shower?”

“Um…” Was she supposed to? “Your choice.”

“The Sopranos okay?” he asks, climbing onto their bed, twisting around to grab his laptop from the side table. His shirt rides up a little, a sliver of waist and hip peeking out at her.

“Sure.” She likes The Sopranos. It’s a little soapy, but usually she has no problem following along. 

Keyword being usually.

She’s tucked herself into Percy’s side the way she usually does, her head against his, his arm around her shoulders, his thumb ghost along the bare skin of her bicep. He smells really good today, sea salt and cinnamon and chili oil, a testament to his busy day in the kitchen. He’s so warm, always, six feet of dense, packed muscle practically radiating heat. Annabeth could fall asleep right there. She often does. 

Shifting for the sixth time in what must be five minutes, she snuggles into his chest, curling and uncurling her toes. There’s no denying it--she can feel herself getting hotter, a flame in her center, soft and pulsing, reaching every part of her.

How she wishes she could blame it on The Sopranos.

Annabeth presses her nose into his neck, breathing him in, laying a kiss under his ear. Then another on his jaw. And another at the corner of his lips. And one on his mouth, tilting him towards her for better access. He goes, easily, without resistance. 

At some point, the popcorn bowl is moved. 

Then, Percy shuts his laptop closed during Livia’s wake. 

“Hey,” Annabeth murmurs into his mouth, draped over him like some kind of blanket. “I wanna try something.”

He hums, kissing her again. “Okay?”

She reaches behind him, beneath the pillow. She’s not sure why she had stashed it there, rather than hanging it back up in the closet, but she pulls out the tie, holding Percy’s gaze without breaking. “I thought,” she breathes, pressing her chest against him, incentivizing, “you know... if you want to."

His eyes darken, even as his face tries to give nothing away. "You wanna tie me up?"

Lip between her teeth, she nods.

Slowly, controlled, he blows his breath out, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek. "You sure?" he asks, desire rumbling in his chest.

She frowns. "Yeah." Does he not want to?

"Okay," he says, twisting a curl around his finger. "Just want to make sure we’re on the same page here.”

Or maybe worse, does he think she can’t? “Okay.”

Straightening up, she straddles him. He lifts his arms obediently, never breaking eye contact, bracing them against their headboard. It’s not really conducive for this sort of thing, but she threads the tie through the wooden slats easily enough, tying his wrists together, leaning in closer than she needs to so that her chest pushes up against his face.

There. All tied up and ready to go.

She leans back on her knees, taking in the whole pretty picture.

Rhythmically, subconsciously, Percy tests the strength of the bonds, flexing the muscles in his arms. His mouth hangs open, his hips shifting beneath her as he tries to get comfortable, cock hard through his sweatpants.

Annabeth scrambles off him, and he tries to follow, chest jerking as the tie holds him back. He grunts, surprised, shoulders straining, before he falls back, defeated, huffing angrily, a low growl which connects to the pit of her stomach. “Nice try, Percy,” she smirks, sauntering around to the foot of the bed, keenly aware of his gaze as it tracks her, hands on her hips. “It’s my show tonight.”

“Your show, huh?” He settles back against the headboard, wine-dark gaze boring into her. “By all means, then. Give me a show.”

She glares, grinding her teeth. Doesn’t he know she’s calling the shots right now? 

Well, fine. If he wants a show, he’ll get a show. 

Annabeth is… not a particularly graceful person normally, but on the battlefield, she knows she shines. Give her a knife and an enemy, and she can put the greatest dancers to shame. Well, in this case, Percy is the enemy, and… her clothes… are the knife. Or something like that. It makes more sense in her head.

Slowly, she grasps the hem of her sleep shirt, peeling it up over her chest, the fabric blocking her vision for a brief moment as she slips it over her head. When Percy comes back into view, his eyes have darkened just that much more, almost straining with the effort not to stare at her chest, even as it’s presented for his explicit viewing pleasure.

Annabeth does not have much in the way of breasts--never has. It doesn’t seem to bother him, which is nice. Besides, Percy is more of a leg man, as he has expressed several times. So, legs next. 

Her sleep shorts aren’t very sexy, old, threadbare things which had once been yoga pants. When she started gaining a little more weight, and the pants could no longer reach her ankles, she had cut them in a fit of impulsivity, stretching the fabric and sewing herself a new hem, giving her skin more room to breathe. And giving Percy more space to slip his fingers up, the horny bastard. 

She turns around, lamenting the loss, as she so wanted to see his face as she bends over, sticking out her ass, slowly slipping the waistband down. From behind, she hears a faint pickup in breathing. 

Over her ass, down her thighs and her knees. She thinks she hears a groan, muffled behind a bitten lip. She lifts up one foot, then the other, leaving the shorts in a puddle by her feet. Clad only in her panties now--black, lacy, but not due to any pre-planning on her part, unless you count the laundry just about overflowing in the closet hamper--she straightens back up, her hands going to her hair, running her fingers through it in some kind of approximation of sexy.

She turns around, and is greeted with his look of naked longing, his throat working as he swallows, full lower lip firmly in his teeth. His fists are clenched, the muscles of his forearms big and bulging, his heels pushing into the mattress.

She takes a step forward, her fingers teasing the edge of her panties. She won’t take them off, not yet, just torment him a little, lifting the fabric and letting it slap back down to her skin, then she’ll climb back on top of him, hump him through his sweatpants until he’s begging--

Annabeth catches her foot on the fabric puddle. Tripping, she throws out her hands, aiming to catch herself on the decorative chest they keep at the foot of their bed, her weak ankle buckling as it tries to keep her steady--then she jams her toe into the metal strut. Hard.

“Mother fucker!”

She goes down.

“Annabeth!”

Through the white hot haze of pain, she can barely see, but she can certainly feel it as a pair of strong arms picks her up from the floor, laying her on the bed, a big hand taking her weaker foot, fingers delicately prodding the offending toe, skimming over the sensitive skin. “Percy?” she moans, seeing stars. “What--”

“Nothing feels sprained,” he murmurs, kissing her ankle. “Looks like you just slammed it. Let me get some ice.” And he leaves her for a moment.

Wasn’t he tied up a minute ago?

The bed dips beside her as Percy takes her foot again, carefully laying one of their smaller ice packs across the throbbing flesh. Her vision clears, blink by blink, and as his concerned but fond face slowly comes into focus, she also spies something trailing from his wrist--a strip of black and white fabric. 

His tie. Snapped in half. Still attached to him. “Did you…?” she trails off.

He flicks his eyes down to his wrist, and flushes, lightly. “Oh. I, uh, guess I did. I didn’t even notice.”

Annabeth’s body grows hot in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with shame. 

“Anyway,” he coughs, dry and useless. “Um, maybe we should call it a night?”

Hiding her face in her arms, she nods. 

***

They try again the next week.

While dictating her notes via speech-to-text, Annabeth had spent the last couple of days occupied with making her own rope, stronger and softer than the ones she had seen in her Incognito Mode searches while doing her business in the bathroom. BDSM rope is surprisingly really expensive, especially the less abrasive stuff, but more than that, she feels kind of… well, it’s weird, the idea of spending money on bondage shit when they’d only tried it once, and not very successfully at that. Like, how about they make sure they actually like it first, says the little Percy in her head who occasionally keeps her from making too many impulse purchases, and then they can upgrade their gear? 

Also, she’s confident her stuff is on par with the really expensive gear anyway. Plus, it’s blue!

And when she dangles it in front of his face, straddling him once again as she slides her wet pussy over his briefs, practically soaking them, he lifts his arms again, a quiet acquiescence, even as his jaw clenches in the barest hint of displeasure. 

Every day Percy does something new to make her fall in love with him. That he trusts her so much to let her tie him up, immobilize him, take away his control like this, even though he’s so clearly hesitant about the whole thing, that’s just today’s thing. She kisses him, soft and sweet, over and over, and he responds in kind, straining his neck to meet her. “You good?” she asks, a whisper into the space between them, and he nods. “It’s not too tight?”

“It’s fine.” She feels more than sees as he flexes his arms again, testing the strength of her rope. 

“Good.” She kisses his nose. No way he’ll be able to break these. 

The second time is already going better than the first. Having divested herself of her clothes beforehand, there’s no danger of her tripping and injuring herself as she lines herself up and sinks down on him, shuddering at the angle as she slides him inside of her. She just sits there for a moment, rocking back and forth on his lap, enjoying the way he fills her nooks and crannies, brushing up against the sensitive skin, closing her eyes against the sensation as she lifts herself up, sliding back down, up and down and up and down and up and down. 

“Fuck, Annabeth,” he moans. “Oh, fuck.”

It’s good. As always. It’s so good. 

But… something is missing.

She squeezes around him, and he hisses, bucking beneath her.

Why isn’t he touching her?

He groans, frustrated, his head making a muffled thump as it drops on the pillow.

Oh. Right.

Usually right about now he’ll go for her tits, his big hands covering them completely, deft fingers pinching and twisting her nipples in the most perfect way, so she decides to show him what he’s missing, bringing her own hands up to her chest, rolling her thumbs over her nipples, smiling as he practically growls. Unfortunately for her, for whatever sick reason, she’s not nearly as good at this as he is, her touches not really doing enough for her. And after a few minutes or so, Percy takes notice.

“Oh gods, Annabeth,” he pants, pulling his legs up behind her, the force almost tilting her forward, and she throws out her hands to catch herself, his abs tensing beneath her as she lands on them, her chest right up against his face. Quick as anything, he lifts his head up, mouth headed for her left nipple before she manages to pull herself back.

She narrows her eyes, falling back on his lap even more heavily, pushing a grunt out of him. “Nice try.”

He only grins back, shark-like, eyes dancing. “Had to give it a shot.”

Of course he did. Percy treats rules like [clever metaphor], easily broken and discarded. And now Annabeth has to punish him. 

Shit.

What are you supposed to do for punishment again? 

Her mind draws a blank.

Percy stares up at her, waiting, brow raised in challenge.

To stall for time, she squeezes around him.

She’d watched a handful of pornos for research, and in a lot of them, the dominant would strike their partner. Percy’s tough, a bit of an adrenaline junkie, and he likes his rough-housing with Clarisse and Frank and the war kids, so he’d probably like that, too, right? If someone did that to her, Annabeth would probably like it.

So she raises her hand, and she brings it down on his soft, untensed, unprepared tummy. Hard.

He jumps so high that he actually manages to buck her off. “OW!”

“Percy!” she cries, scrambling back over to him. “Oh my gods, I’m so sorry!”

“The hell was that for!” he gasps, curling in on himself as best he can with his arms still tied above his head.

“Sorry, sorry,” she gentles, almost frantic, hands hovering over his body. His belly is rapidly turning pink, the outline of her hand stark on his skin, practically radiating heat. “I just--I mean I thought--fuck, I am so sorry!”

He groans in response, eyes squeezed shut. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck--”Let--let me get you some ice, or--” she stammers, sliding off the bed.

“Can you at least untie me first?” Percy wheezes. 

“Oh my gods, yeah, hold on.” Despite her shaking fingers, the knot comes undone easily, practically falling apart, and Percy curls himself into a ball, forehead touching his knees.

Returning with an ice pack wrapped in a dish towel, she kisses his shoulder in apology, slipping it between the taut, tight bends of his body. 

He is in real, actual pain. Fuck. “I am so, so sorry,” she says again, her voice wobbling.

Squinting up at her, he tries for a reassuring smile, but falls far, far short, a pained grimace painted across his face. “It’s okay,” he rasps. 

It’s really not, but saying that isn’t going to be so helpful right now. 

Instead, she lies down next to him, resting her hand on his arm, gently stroking back and forth in hopes that it might distract him a little. She knows that whenever her ankle or her shoulder act up, all she wants is Percy’s hands on her, repetitive and soothing. Hopefully she can give back a little of the comfort that he gives her.

After a while, he starts to uncurl. “Goddamn,” he moans, still clutching the ice pack to his stomach. “Remind me never to badmouth the Yankees again.”

She forces out a chuckle for his sake, ducking her head against his. “How is it? One to ten.”

Hissing, he straightens out a little more. “Probably a four,” he says, “but a really spicy four.”

“Percy, I am so--”

“It’s okay.” He knocks his head against her chin. “Maybe just warn me next time?”

“Yeah,” she says, uneasy. Next time is not looking so likely. “Here.” 

Slowly, she helps him into a sitting position, applying extra pressure on his stomach, her hand on top of his. They breathe together, letting the sting fade away until Percy drops his head on hers. 

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

“How are you?”

“How--” she snorts, a little wet. “I’m fine, Percy.”

“Good.”

“I’m sorry about hitting you,” she says. She can’t help but look down at his stomach, pinkness peeking above the ice pack, at his dick, well and truly flaccid. “That was… not my best idea.”

“Can I ask you something?” Tearing her gaze away, she turns back to Percy. “Why are you pushing for this so hard?”

She blinks, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“Just, you’ve never really expressed an interest in kinky stuff before.” He takes her hand, cold from the ice pack, rubbing his thumb against hers, sweet and intimate. 

“Yeah, well,” she cuddles into Percy a little harder, curving her body around his shoulder. “Some of the girls at Berklee were teasing me about being a little vanilla.” None of it was mean-spirited or anything, but it had stayed with her for a while after it had resurfaced that night. Annabeth Chase, despite having run away from home at the age of seven, was a square, a teetotaler, unadventurous, the kind of woman who spent her Friday nights playing board games with a woman who typified 1930s values. Annabeth Chase, after her short, entirely too eventful life, was going to settle down, and marry the first boy she ever kissed.

It had struck a nerve.

“Being vanilla isn’t a bad thing,” he says, something like concern lacing his voice. “But, are you… not satisfied? With the physical stuff?” The unspoken ‘with me’ hangs between them, and Annabeth pulls back, looking him in the eye.

“Percy.” 

“Mm?”

Reaching up, she kisses him. “Of course not. I could never not be satisfied.”

Something in him eases, almost imperceptible if she didn’t know him as well as she does. “So…”

Shrugging, she lays her head back down on his shoulder. “I dunno. It’s just--like, I’m pretty sure you’re going to be the only person I ever sleep with--”

“Pretty sure?”

She nudges him with her foot, and he laughs, hissing a little as it jostles his stomach. “You know what I mean. I just don’t want to miss out on anything, is all.”

“Like what?”

“Like--” she gestures to the rope, lying forgotten, tangled up in the sheets. “Stuff like that. Kinky stuff.”

“Okay,” he says, slowly. At least he doesn’t think she’s crazy. That’s always nice. “I guess I’m just wondering if you’re actually into bondage and stuff or if we’re just… you know, trying it out.”

Draping a leg over him, knees pressed together, she shrugs. “It sounded pretty fun,” she mumbles into his arm. “You know. Tying you up.”

She feels him swallow, jaw working as he chooses his next words carefully. “Tying me up,” he asks, “or tying you up?”

That… gives her pause. 

“Maybe…” He turns his face towards her, nose in her hair. “We could swap?”

She frowns. “Swap?”

“If you want, I mean,” he says, quickly. “If you’re not--I would never make you do something you didn’t want to, obviously, but, I mean… if you wanted to try?”

Annabeth, for lack of anything to say, rubs her toes against his calf, comforting and grounding.

Does she want to be tied up?

Her first instinct is to refuse, obviously. She’s a warrior. Immobilization is death. And what if a monster attacks? She has to be ready for anything. That was the promise of Athena’s progeny, that they were eternally poised and ready to respond to any problem or threat.

And yet… 

The summer she turned thirteen, she had decided that she was strong enough to hear the siren’s song in the sea of monsters. At her request, Percy had tied her to the mast so she wouldn’t be able to jump in and swim to her death. He had forgotten to take her knife, and when she had, inevitably, fallen prey to their song and cannonballed right into danger, he had jumped in after her, holding her back until she had been able to pull herself out of the magic spell. 

It had been humiliating, and humbling. She hadn’t even begun to realize that she liked Percy as more than a friend at that point. But, years later, the clearest memory she has of that day is not how her pride had reared its ugly head, but instead just how safe she had felt in Percy’s arms, at the bottom of the ocean.

Here, in New Rome, in their apartment, with Percy… Well, what’s the worst that could happen? “Sure,” she says, perhaps a little more confident than she actually feels. 

“Sure?”

“Sure. Why not?” Looking up at him, she searches his gaze for any hesitation or fear, and finds none, and that, more than anything else, settles her. “I’m game.”

He looks for the same in her, and he seems to like what he finds, because he cracks a grin, laying a soft kiss on her lips.

Gingerly, still mindful of his stomach, he reaches over to grab the discarded rope. Taking her hands in his free one, he loops it around her wrists, tucking the ends into itself, tight but not constricting. Comfortable. 

Her breath catches in her throat. 

“You good?”

Nodding, she flexes her wrists outward, just to feel the tension--and she sighs, a breathy moan slipping out of her without her permission.

They freeze.

Annabeth slams her eyes shut, praying he didn’t hear her.

“...Okay then,” says Percy. 

Gods, his shit-eating grin is practically audible. “Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” He leans in, kissing her ear. “Did you just try to tell me what to do?”

She shivers beneath his warm breath. “I…” She is suddenly full of apologies and excuses bubbling up out of nowhere.

Percy hums. “You what?” Slowly, agonizingly, he slides his hand down the length of her body, ending on her tight, just above her knee. He squeezes, featherlight, and she shivers.

“Um,” she says, watching his hand creep higher, his fingers dipping between her legs. “I…”

Then he stops. He stops, that big hand still wedged halfway to her vagina.

“Are--” she stutters, almost yelping as he kisses the sensitive spot beneath her jaw, teeth scraping over the skin. “Are you going to finish?”

“Dunno. Was thinking about it. But maybe I won’t. Maybe,” he chuckles, directly into her ear, his nose pressing against her cheek. His other arm comes around, slipping beneath her bicep, fingers finding her nipple like it’s a damn beacon, and he pinches it, smiling into her skin as she jumps, grunts, and flushes. She wants to touch him so badly, but the angle of her arms is so weird and she’s kind of on top of him, and she can’t reach his cock or his hair or--“Maybe I’ll just get you worked up, and then I’ll go to sleep.”

What--but--he can’t--“I--you--”

“Say you’re sorry,” he teases, pressing his cheek to her head, “and maybe I’ll reconsider.”

Sorry for what?! She almost snaps. Percy’s hand between her legs plays just at the edge of her sensitive spots, teasing with soft touches, driving her crazy. “I’m--I’m sorry, Percy,” she pants, squirming. Maybe if she shimmies down, his hand will move up--

But he won’t be moved. “Sorry for what?”

“For--” he digs a nail into her thigh, a sharp, sweet bite of sensation, like a campfire ember accidentally landing on your skin, bright and pulsing. Fuck, what is she apologizing for? “For hurting you earlier.”

Shaking his head, he chuckles again, moving his hand further away. No! “Close,” he mumbles, “but no cigar--”

Oh! “For telling you what to do!” she blurts. “I’m sorry for telling you what to do!”

He bites her earlobe. His fingers slide up to her pussy, stroking her labia as they open up to him. “There we go.”

And as he jerks her off, bringing her to the finish with the kind of efficiency and skill that only comes after ten thousand hours, he kisses her, wet and hot, mouth insistent, taking her lip between his teeth, and he mumbles: “Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.”

She breaks, crying into his mouth. 

After a while, he slides his fingers out, giving her one final pass on her clit, and she shudders, whining. “Sorry,” he mumbles, warm. “You good?”

Her tongue heavy in her mouth, all she can do is nod, panting. 

But when he slides his other arm out, making to untie her--”Don’t,” she mumbles, pulling back. 

He starts. “Don’t?”

“Don’t.” Turning into him, she snuggles against him as deeply as she could, her bound hands only making it a little bit awkward, though they do come to rest on his stomach, about the perfect distance for her to reach down and take care of him. “Your turn?”

But he just shakes his head, slinging a leg over hers. “Still a little sore,” he admits, not quite meeting her gaze.

She drops her head onto his chest, relishing in the warm, steady heartbeat beneath her ear. “Sorry.”

“You can make it up to me later,” he says, taking her hands in his, thumb tracing along the edge of the rope. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

[madzfm]

˛ ⠀ * ⠀ ★ ⠀  JESSICA ALEXANDER  .   CIS FEMALE  .  SHE / HER      ⧽ ⠀ have  you  seen  the  786  latest  post  ?  sources  say  they  have  some  serious  dirt  on  the  child  of  a  big  time   COUNTRY MUSIC STARS  .   they  haven’t  revealed  who  it was  yet  but  my  best  is  on  MADISON  DARLING  !  ever  since  that  last  update  about  how  she  ALLEGEDLY GOT CAUGHT SPORTING A BABY BUMP LAST YEAR BEFORE GHOSTING EVERYONE  i  don’t  put  anything  pass  them  .  i  mean  ,  these  celebrity  kids  are  just  out  of  control  .   they  do  whatever  they  want  ,  whenever  they  want  and  are  ungrateful  in  the  process  !!  i  mean  take  MADDIE  for  example  ,  they’re  a  TWENTY THREE  year  old  DANCER  ,  and  what  did  they  do  to  get  there  ?  have  famous  parents  !  like  hello  ,  just  because  you HAVE BEEN IN MUSIC VIDEOS WITH A-LIST MUSICIANS doesn’t  mean  you  actually  deserved  it  .   i’m   glad   the   786   is   taking   them   down   a   notch   .   it’s   about   time   someone   does   .

             𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐆𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐂  /  𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓  / 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

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hey ... hey ... how y’all doin’ ?  i’m sooo excited to be here , besties ! sorry i’m late with the intro , it’s been a looooong weekend for me but i’m eager to get the ball rolling . so here’s the rundown , the google doc has a full bio + more stats + headcanons but i don’t expect anyone to actually read all that nonsense so i’ve tried my best to sum it up below ( it’s still kinda long tho i’m sorry y’all i ramble too much ). i’m always down to talk plots & threw a few wanted connection ideas at the bottom , so feel free to hmu on discord any time <3 but yes okay let’s get into it

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━━     ˊ     *     𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬  . .

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞. madison dallas darling .   𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞(𝐬). maddie , mads .   𝐝𝐨𝐛. april 14 , 1998 .   𝐚𝐠𝐞. twenty - three .   𝐳𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜. aries sun , libra moon , leo asc .   𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫. cis female .   𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬. she / her .   𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. bisexual .  𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞. nashville , tn .   𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. 5ft 5in .  𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. high school diploma .   𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. dancer / realty tv personality .   𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬. robert “robbie” darling - father . dixie darling - mother . delaney darling - sister .   𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬. compassionate , imaginative , family-oriented  , devoted , generous , sympathetic , idealistic , self critical , naive , competitive , indecisive , impressionable , elusive , sensitive .

━━     ˊ     *     𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲 . .

tw : things like shitty controlling parents , injury , & pregnancy are mentioned

   born & raised in nashville , tennessee , madison is the daughter of two country music icons ( basically blake shelton & miranda lambert ) & has only ever known a life in the spotlight . her parents were a widely adored it couple who shared their lives with millions of viewers across the world with their reality tv show . at 7pm cst you could tune in to watch robbie & dixie raise their two daughters - having some good ol’ wholesome family fun while juggling responsibilities that come with being famous artists . to any outsider looking in , they seemed like the perfect family . a loving father , a supportive mother , two prim & proper daughters that collected accolade after accolade in every pageant & talent competition they ever entered . but you shouldn’t believe everything you see on tv , even if it’s deceptively labeled as “reality” .

   when the cameras weren’t rolling , the darling sisters were left under their mother’s restrictive control . dixie darling treated her daughters more like dolls than living beings , madison & delaney were basically pretty little accessories . while robbie never dared to mistreat his daughters , he was around a lot less than the show made it seem - often touring the world rather than spending quality time with his girls . plus , dixie & robbie seemed to endlessly fight with one another - nearly every childhood memory madison has of her parents involves them yelling . if she wanted to see them looking happy & in love , she’d have to tune in to the fabricated reality on their own show to get a taste of what a happy , loving family looks like . 

   you can’t be a child of dixie darling without being exploited in some way . while delaney was pushed into the music scene , madison was shoved into the world of dance . she took every class that was offered & practiced for hours upon hours to perfect her craft . her sister had taken after their folks with the singing voice of an angel & the looks to rival that of miss universe , meanwhile maddie was good for two things : dance & doing whatever her mother said . so when dixie said to twirl , she twirled , when she said do a grand jeté, maddie asked how high & then over performed like the good little girl she was trained to be .

   it wasn’t until her parents got divorced & maddie moved to miami to be with her sister , her father , & her father’s new girlfriend that she sort of came out ( or more accruately described as dragged out ) of her timid , non - confrontational , subservient shell . with a longer leash , she had more freedom to roam far & wide . no one tried to tell her what to do or who to talk to & considering she was just a privileged teenager with endless funds & the status to get away with just about anything , you can imagine how badly that went . every mistake she made was broadcasted onto people’s televisions or headlined in tabloids . it was stressful , growing up & messing up all under the watchful gaze of millions of people who felt entitled to berate her for her poor life decisions . just because they watched her grow up on tv didn’t mean they actually knew anything about her . & yet so many people shared their unsolicited opinions on her & her life . it drove her insame .

   maddie wasn’t handling the stress of being well known very well . she wanted a break from it all , to just go somewhere far away where no one knew her name & just live by herself . it was a silly dream . nothing she’d ever actively pursue . but the universe has a funny way of giving us a taste of what we think we want just to teach us a lesson . 

   so over a year ago , maddie found out that she was pregnant . it was a shock to say the least . she kept it a close guarded secret from everyone but her sister for awhile . not only was it a life changing development , but it was one thing that she was determined not to share with the rest of the world . with the idea of running away in continuous loop in the back of her mind , she came up with a plan to buy herself some time . she faked a really bad injury during a performance & let the media run with saying she might not be able to walk , let alone dance ever again . pushing the cover story even further , she claimed to be in need of intense physical therapy & sought after it in a luxurious private lodge in new zealand . that’s where she stayed during her year away , letting no outsiders come visit while she figured out how she was going to move forward with this baby growing inside of her .

   so maddie finally got the break she was looking for even if it wasn’t under the circumstances that she would’ve liked . but she adapted to the situation . in her time away , she went through the entire pregnancy but it was basically decided for her by her parents that it was best to give the baby up for adoption . the little girl would be in good care by a couple that was a family friend of the darlings . better to bless someone who wanted a baby but couldn’t have one than for maddie to keep her daughter when she wasn’t in a place to take care of her . it broke her heart , honestly . she had grown quite attached to the baby & even entertained the idea of being a single mom even though she knew her own mom would never let that happen - it would go against the strict narrative that they try to put out there about the darling family .

   after a year away , maddie is back in miami without anyone knowing what really happened . she keeps using the “injury” as the excuse for her absence from the spotlight . anyone really close to her might be able to tell that something’s off , but she’s trying so hard to act like everything is fine & nothing has changed at all . she might even be able to get away with her lies - if it wasn’t for that damn 786 website threatening to spill the tea & make her life hell .

━━     ˊ     *     𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 & 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 . .

   a wannabe good girl gone bad but harbors a deep rooted fear of being a disappointment & a failure due to her mom’s strict parenting style . so like she wants to be rebellious & come across as carefree but internally she’s panic screaming always ( honestly relatable like same , girl )

   well - mannered in a sweet southern belle kind of way with her please’s & thank you’s & calling everyone ma’am & sir out of respect & what not

   biiiig mom friend energy . she just wants to make sure that everyone is taken care of . she can get very protective & a little helicopter parent-y with her friends . it probably has something to do with control issues that she doesn’t realize she has but we don’t have time to unpack that rn akjsdbk

   before her year away i want to say that she was a lot more people please-y / overly eager to please ?? like rarely said no to people that asked for favors , always agreed to any plans people invited her to out of courtesy , & what have you . but now i see her as being a little less patient than before & a little bit more unhinged & quick to shut down or snap

   guillable ! naive ! dumb as hell ! believes that everyone was raised with the same values as her & has a big of a heart like she does so she’s easily subjectable to getting her feelings hurt & i say let it happen !!

   wants to be mysterious so bad but there is very little known about her & her life that isn’t public knowledge . she could get shit on by a bird & it’ll probably become a twitter highlight idk she just wants to believe she’s imperceptible & acts all evasive in order to keep her private life private but that rarely ever has the desired effect

    one of those annoying rich & famous people that’s like “i wasn’t meant to be famous . i was meant to have a normal life & be a normal person” but like !! she is actually so out of touch with reality & probably couldn’t tell you how much milk is at the grocery store because she has people to do mundane day to day things for her . spoiled little privileged rich girl , let’s be real . her dad tried to keep her humble , idk what happened

   dance style / career is pretty much inspired by maddie ziegler but also not really bc i am very picky & choosey about which aspects of her career i’m pulling from

   boring on social media because she hardly ever posts & is very short with her captions & tweets when she does make an appearance online every blue moon 

   dodges questions about what she’s been up to while she was gone like she’s in the matrix or something . all that pr training her mom put her through when she was younger is coming in handy because she has not given a single honest , straight answer in the months she’s been back . would rather talk about anything else than herself right now so don’t be surprised if she pulls some random subject changes out of her ass if people get nosy . i’m sure the common conspiracy is that maddie was so embarrassed by the fall on stage that she went into hiding 

   delaney is the kim kardashian & britney spears of the family while madison is the kourtney & the jamie lynn xoxo

━━     ˊ     *     𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 . .

ride or die , bad influence , frenemies , family friends , good influence , confidant , rival , girl squad , non judging breakfast club , childhood friend , unlikely friend , exes on good terms , exes on bad terms , neighbors , pr friendship , pr enemy , social media mutuals , party buddies , secret friend , secret hook - up , crush , friends with benefits , adventure buddy , enemy with benefits , dance partners , mentors , mentees , sibling like relationship , will they won’t they , people suspicious of her & her supposed “injury” , father of her baby 👀 jk ..... unless

[caffeinated-chaos-bean]

Mid-2021 Blog Update

Hey guys.

So... It’s been a while. Quite a while... and I want to lay some things out as to why I’ve been gone and the blog has practically been dead in the water for half a year, if not for a whole year. 

I want you to know that what I’m going to say will be in heavy detail. I’m comfortable speaking on it, and what information doesn’t just include me will be using either public details that I know I can share or will be put in a short and sweet manner.

This is your trigger warning: If you need to click off or scroll past due to the mention of extremely bad mental health, toxic relationships and households, the mention of depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts, please do so now.

. . .

First off, I’ve lessened the amount of time I’ve been online due to my mental health. I was put on antidepressants as well as told to take anti-anxiety gummies in November and will be weaned off of those starting this October. A lot of my family and relationship drama on top of the world practically shutting down and going into chaos thanks to COVID-19 just took a major toll on me. With so much on my shoulders, stress from living with said things on my shoulders, unsupportive family members, and an emotionally distant partner, I was at one of the lowest points in the life. I’d never had to be on mood-related medication in my life until last November. I’d always been able to handle what was thrown at me, but mid- to late-2020 was what knocked me down that low for the first time in my life. Suicidal thoughts came and went (they weren’t often, only when I couldn’t bottle my emotions up any longer but didn’t have a way to express them either), but even when they did, I knew that it was just in my head. I never once chose to act on them, because to me, that is not a way to solve a problem or escape your inner demons. All it does it put your personal suffering onto those around you -- your friends, family, and those who cared about you even when you don’t see it -- and it doesn’t do anyone any good. When my doctor asked me about suicide, that’s the very explanation I gave her. Yes, they happened, but I’d never act on them; it’s not a way out and it puts your pain onto others and only worsens the situation for the long-term.

Aside from that, though... I move on to other personal reasons for my absence that helped trigger what was mentioned above. Mid-August of 2019, my then fiancé's mother was murdered by two 17yr old boys of whom she and their family knew. Going off the information that was made public, one boy had mixed meth with marijuana prior to the killing. He claimed that my fiancé’s mother mouthed off and made a derogatory comment about his deceased mother, thus sparking the incident. While he claims to have only stabbed her once, the autopsy report shows that her head/face and upper torso were “hacked, slashed, and chopped” repeatedly with “various sharp, bladed objects”. Not only did they murder her, the two individuals also set the grass around her body on fire along with her home. When we found out about this having happened, I had no idea how bad it would have turned my relationship upside-down. My now ex-fiancé didn’t come from a great childhood, there was abuse and CPS, among other things. But he had managed and was a good person. He could make me laugh and tear up at his jokes, sang beautifully, and did everything to make those around him happy. When he lost his mom, it broke him. It shattered his very being, because not only did he know the two who caused it to happen, he also was unable to reconcile and make amends with his mother for what he went through as a child. He was robbed of being able to forgive and be on good terms with her, and it broke him. He stopped communicating with family, he took bereavement after being pulled from work by family the day it was confirmed to be his mother only to to fired 3 months down the line when he tried to go back (fuck Walmart for that btw), and was slowly becoming a hypochondriac. He stopped talking to me, he would cry in his sleep, and grief made him lash out as was expected. But as the days dragged on, his motivation and care towards finding a new job dwindled. He and my mother would fight endlessly and I was caught in the middle of it, as we all were in one household. There were times in which I would keep my phone on my leg and record for my own personal documentation should I need it due to how bad my own mother would belittle me, belittle my ex behind his back, and just scream and go off. When I’d turn to my ex for comfort, he wasn’t much help due to his own deteriorating mental health. He took to discord, specifically the Vampire the Masquerade community, as his escape from reality. He eventually would hardly talk to me at all, show no compassion, and at times I tried to speak with him about getting a new job or suggesting part-time ones that I felt would be easy and as stress-free as possible for him, I would be shooed away without a word; if I tried to further my attempt to have the conversation, he eventually got an attitude and would just say “Bye!” over and over again while shooing with his hand to get me to leave. There were many days where I’d get off work and sit in the bathroom for an hour and cry because of my frustration and how I felt stuck between two people I cared about deeply (ie. my ex and my mother).

My ex has since moved out and no longer lived with us. He and I are no longer together, and he has cut off all communication to me along with his family. He isn’t living in California anymore, really. He met up with discord friends and is in another state. That’s the last I heard from him. That’s the last his family heard. He doesn’t talk to us or attempt to reach out or respond when his family reaches out. I still very much care about him and want him to get better, but if he has to do so by being away from everyone, then so be it.

While I was letting - or shutting out, rather - the emotions I was feeling once he officially moved out, I relapsed with my anxiety tick; with my trichotillomania. I have a good number of smaller, thinned out spots in my hair from unconsciously pulling out strands of hair when my emotions didn’t know how to regulate. I’m still fighting to get this under control, as I do still catch myself doing it and so does my mother. It currently is not as bad as when my ex first moved out and I had to adjust back into sleeping alone and without someone next to me, but I do still pull. I am looking into trying to get my sister to order me a HabbitAware bracelet for me this Christmas in order to help get my tick back under control. I know its something I will live with forever and go in and out of doing, as there is no cure or medication to curb trichotillomania, but its something to help me be more aware of how often I do pull and to train it to no longer be a muscle memory response.

Most recently, I’ve had to stop taking melatonin. I’ve had bouts of insomnia since my ex left, and eventually I took enough melatonin to not only build an immunity to it but also a slight dependence. I was taking more than I should have been, and I noticed the signs of it and have stopped taking melatonin altogether. Due to this, I have switched to hempseed oil gummies. I take 2 before bed and they have helped wonderfully. But, due to how easy it was for me to become dependent on melatonin, I do plan to take brief breaks from the gummies to avoid a similar situation. I also do not plan on seeking an insomnia medication due to the same reasons. I knew what I was doing was wrong and I knew i was becoming addicted, and due to this I do not wish to risk it happening with a prescription sleep medication. I will deal with my bouts of insomnia as they come.

I also am conquering my insecurities towards others knowing I am a fan of Michael Jackson; a moonwalker. In elementary school (5th grade, 2009), I went through a heavy obsessive phase when he passed. I’d never heard of him, and when I listened to his music that firs time I was instantly hooked. I was ridiculed at school after I performed “Thriller” during a talent show; I had classmates going as far as saying that I must want him to kidnap and r*pe me if I enjoyed his music so much. I didn’t understand the gravity of those comments back then the way that I do now that I’m 23, but I still knew to an extent that what they were saying was in now way a good thing. I shut out his music from mid-6th grade all the way until this year. I hadn’t listened to a single song aside from hearing “Thriller” on the radio during October. For my birthday this year, I had a friend take me out of town and get away for a day. The entire time, she surprised me by playing hours of his music when in the car with her. It has since reopened that connection to his music and I’ve been listening to his songs with a fresh take, with the mind of an adult who can comprehend his words and understand finally what he’s saying for each song. As such, I’ve become more comfortable with others knowing I’m a moonwalker. You can have your opininos of the man, you can choose to believe the tabloids and junk media or make your own conclusions after assessing the details and documents of his life, but I will enjoy the same freedom of opinion.

I know this is getting pretty long, but I wanted to fill those who still might be checking up on this blog for any sort of update or spec of life coming from it in on what’s practically killed the blogs for a good chunk of time.

I do plan to slowly start doing stuff again after Halloween. I have a video made that I plan to post for Halloween and I look forward to letting Kikumi and the others be open for asks again. Until then, may the wind guide you all. I hope everyone can have a safe and wonderful rest of August. I will see you in October.

[rufousnmacska]

Submersion

Back in 2018, I wrote a short nessian scene set right before the teaser at the end of acofas - Awakening (trigger warning - self harm, depression). Recently, it showed up in my notes. Then today we got the announcement of the title and release date for the nessian book. I went searching through my drafts and found the companion Cassian pov that I’d written for the scene. It’s been sitting there for two years. 😔

So, in anticipation of A Court of Silver Flames, and for the revived nessian fandom, I’m posting it here. I recommend reading Awakening first.

***Trigger warning - self harm, depression

Cassian had nowhere to go.

The townhouse had been taken over by Mor when Rhys and Feyre moved into the River House. The House of Wind was often overflowing due to the audiences now held each week. Velaris was a bustling city with no place for him to escape prying eyes.

He longed for the mountains, the crisp air, towering evergreens, the entire landscape sure to be frosted over with the change of season. The solitude, the lack of concerned stares and quiet pity … He so desperately wanted to fly home. But he couldn’t.

She was here. And despite everything, he couldn’t leave her. Wouldn’t leave her. No matter how much he wanted to go, no matter how hard she pushed everyone away, he knew Nesta needed help. He just didn’t know how to give it.

A group of children, some high fae, some not, ran past him as he trudged onto a small bridge over the river. The giggles and gentle taunts to continue their race home made him smile. But it was short lived. The scene stood in stark relief to anything he’d see in Illyria, where outsiders were shunned, and the boys and girls rarely played together.

Following in the wake of their joy did nothing to improve his listless steps across the bridge. His mood had been declining for some time and he wondered how much of it was due to Nesta, and how much was due to the problems at the camps. The ever growing discord among the war bands added to his itch to return to the mountains. Cassian found a secluded spot on the bank and sat down heavily, propping himself on bent knees.

It was late afternoon and he wondered where Nesta would be spending her night. How much longer could she continue like this?

How much longer can I, he thought bleakly, only to quickly chastise himself for wallowing. He’d been through worse, succumbed to his own demons and fought them off. How similar those demons were to Nesta’s, he could only speculate. But something told him they were. At least, closer than she could imagine.

How could he convince her that he understood? She wouldn’t speak to him, let alone allow him to speak to her.

Cassian cursed and stood up. Enough. Nesta was beyond him. He was going to fly home before nightfall. With a ferocious flap of his wings, he shot into the air.

Of course his route over Velaris took him directly above her apartment building. Cassian cringed at the shabby appearance. Even from the air, it looked dirty and ill-kept. While he respected Nesta’s desire for independence, admired it even, he couldn’t see the place as anything more than a sign of a troubled soul. As a human, Nesta had been impeccable, never a hair out of place. Being made into a high fae had not changed that. Despite being forced to live as her worst nightmare, she’d maintained that air of propriety, that harsh need for control.

All of that was gone now.

He found himself circling above the building, like some pathetic-

Out of nowhere a sharp pain flared inside him, jerking him from the air. Cassian landed on her roof and spun around, looking for the source of the attack.

But no. He slowly realized no one had shot him. This was Velaris. Its shields were intact, nothing was amiss.

The pain struck again and this time, some basic understanding flickered in the core of his chest. He ignored it, taking to the air and flying down to the street. Within seconds he was at her door, pounding his fist against it.

“Nesta?”

He heard a muffled curse and something clang onto a tile floor.

After a too long silence, he called out, “I know you’re here. I heard you swear.” He was struggling to keep the fear from his voice, trying to force levity into it to hide the shaking.

Cassian continued pounding on the door until he heard the locks begin to turn. His racing heart eased, thanking the mother that he was being let in. He didn’t mean to burst through the entry and when he saw Nesta forced backwards, he lunged to catch her.

But she steadied herself and immediately seemed to catch fire. As she berated him, Cassian glanced down at her arm. The pale skin was marred only by a fading pink arc. Searching her bare skin for signs of other wounds, he realized he’d find none. Her fae nature meant something small like a cut would heal rapidly.

Small, he thought, his insides turning to lead, threatening to pull him through the floor. A small cut. How many others had there been?

His eyes moved slowly to her bathing room, where a nasty looking knife lay on the floor. In a small pool of blood.

It had just happened. Is that why he’d been drawn here?

A small cut. A small pool of blood.

How long before small becomes big?

The thought rang in his ears louder than Nesta’s yelling. His body numb, he barely registered the impact when she shoved him against the door. For a split second, he saw pure terror wash across her face. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared and before he could speak, she’d turned and left him alone. The slam of her bedroom door vibrated through him.

Cassian blinked as if waking from a stupor, the feeling coursing back through every nerve of his body. He thought he might be sick.

That leaden weight within him longed to pull him down and away and ignore it, ignore her, give her space, leave her venomous tongue for some other fool...

Fly home and forget.

She would never ask, never say the word ‘help’.

But the knife, this filthy apartment, the drinking, the males...

It was all part of a scream that they had not heard. Or worse, ignored.

Fly home and forget.

Fly home…

He had to do something. He’d failed her so many times.

With an ache in his heart, he knew if he failed her here and now, it would be the last time. She was destroying herself and was so very close to succeeding.

Cassian strode into the bathing room and grabbed the knife. He made no sound as he left but his mind was roaring. Planning, turning over options, scenarios, phrasing that might compel her.

Unable to bear touching it for long, he threw the knife away as soon as he could, then flew to the River House. He would need Feyre for this, maybe Elain, possibly Amren. It would be difficult, and she’d fight them every step of the way, but he needed to get her out of here. Away from Velaris, away from their judging eyes and the dark vices in which she was trying to drown herself.

The moment Cassian decided to take Nesta with him to Illyria, his siphons had blazed, the lead weight constricting his heart had melted.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door to the study and found Feyre reading.

“I need your help.” His voice gave him away. Hell, his face must have too.

She sat up, eyes wide. “Nesta? What happened?”

“Nothing yet. But…” Cassian paused, thinking for the first time how this plan might seem ridiculous. “I want to get her out of here. Take her to the mountains. I think…” He paused, closing his eyes. “If I can get her away from all this, it might help.”

He didn’t elaborate on what he meant, letting Feyre think whatever she wanted. She was his friend and high lady. He loved her like a sister. But despite the cruel words and disdain Nesta used to build her defenses, they’d all failed her. They’d all left her alone to fester in her grief and misery. He was ashamed to admit it, but it had been easier than trying to wrestle with a hellcat in pain.

“What do you need me to do?” Feyre was standing in front of him, eyes full of worry. But also, trust.

“I need you to kick her out of Velaris.”

*****

Thanks for reading!

My fanfic master list (includes links to ao3)

[astrozones]

Random Romangst: What’s an Ever After? (1/2)

Graphic Descriptions of Self Harm, Self Hatred, and Crying.

Summary: Roman "Princey" Sanders was not okay, and he wasn't entirely sure he ever had been. What with all the insults, being the butt of jokes, the hate from the fandom, the hidden hate from other sides, who could blame him for feeling this way? Maybe one day he'd be better. Feel better. Be more loved.But that day was not today.

Yeah, triggering content ahead. Proceed with caution.

Discord!: Astro’s Zone

Sobs wracked his body as he curled up on the floor, head shoved between his knees and chest. He whimpered, a long, low sound as he tried not to make too much noise in the dead of night.

Roman “Princey” Sanders wasn’t okay, and he hadn’t been for a long, long while. 

Yet the pain that came with every night cried asleep never got old. And it hurt, it hurt as he tried to breathe in slowly, the air passing through the weight in his chest, making him ever so aware of its presence, sending him spiraling back into the depression.

The tears flew down his cheeks gracefully, and at this point he wasn’t entirely certain he wasn’t going to flood the room with salty water.

He pounded the floor, the dull pain distracting himself from his thoughts momentarily. He did it again, and again, and again, until Roman saw a drop of blood stain the hardwood floor.

He gasped, stilling his movement. This is all going too fast.

Really, he didn’t know why he was overreacting so much. It was the same kind of day as normal.

“Maybe quiet down a bit, kiddo,” Patton had said. It stung, but not any more than it usually did.

“Arrogant, much?” Virgil had muttered when Roman had promised them that his latest project was going to be the best ever! All other creations would bow down when passing this one! Typical behavior from Roman, and typical behavior from Virgil, why did it hurt him so?

And when Logan said, “your work is subpar,” Roman didn’t even bat an eye, why was he crying over it hours later?

Deceit had hissed, “great job, Roman, you did brilliantly,” Roman had played off the lie like he always did, treating it as though it was a genuine compliment, even while his brain chanted ‘liar, liar, liar’.

Remus only did his typical thing, hitting him over the head with no warning, dashing in a handful of emotional pain along with the physical. His head still ached, but his heart hurt more.

When he faced the mirror and told himself he was worthless, idiotic, cruel, and unjust, he hadn’t said anything new.

Surely by this point he should be used to the scorn? To the side comments, the glares, and the insults? Yet every night arrived the same, with Roman crying himself to sleep on the bedroom floor. He was weak, and a coward, and he knew it from the bottom of his heart.

His hand shot up to cover his mouth as he heard footsteps coming down the hall. Who was up at this hour..?

“Roman?” A soft, groggy voice asked. The light from the hallway shifted, the beams coming through under the door. It was Virgil. “Are you awake? Thought I heard something…” 

Roman shrunk into himself more, hiding his face in his knees as a low whimper escaped. It was quiet, just enough so that, after a few long moments, Virgil muttered “Must be imagining things…” before walking back down the hall. Roman punched himself in the head. Idiot, what are you doing?! Don’t wake everybody up just because you decided to act like a little baby!

The feelings, the bad, horrible feelings, started long ago. Roman couldn’t remember an exact age, but years ago, maybe at age 7 or 8, Thomas had shown a friend his newest work of art, and, after asking his friend to answer honestly, had been told that it wasn’t very good. At all. And for the first time Roman felt… lonely. He had been there with Patton and Logan but he hadn’t felt more alone and empty in his then-short life.

Those feelings only grew over time. While Thomas showed his work to his friends less and less, Roman lied more and more. He hesitated more, hid away all of his ideas until he deemed them perfect to share with Thomas and the other Sides. And his standards for perfect only got higher and higher. 

Roman started feeling better during Thomas’ vine days. They allowed Thomas to create a different kind of creative content, in short, 6-second bursts. People loved them. And they hated them. After all, with that kind of a following, haters were pouring in from every hole they could get through. Roman tried not to let it affect him. He failed.

A character based off of him appeared in those vines. Logan and Patton, too. And once, even Anxiety. All of them seemed to be met with open arms.

Then, oh then, Thomas started Sanders Sides, and it was the single most best and worst idea Roman ever had.

The first episodes were pretty great, of course, and Roman started feeling truly accepted, even if all the fans didn’t like him. 

Virgil appeared in one of the videos. Roman was brought in, and one of the first things he was told was ‘I hope and dream to get rid of my anxiety’, and what was Roman supposed to do with that? Go against his host?

Roman knew that he went too far. He understood that, now. But everyone blamed him for it all. That sounded selfish, he didn’t want the blame of Thomas, he just… wanted to stop hurting.

Except he didn’t know how he had gone too far. He said some mean things, and used a couple nicknames, but those weren’t Earth-shattering, were they?

Sure, he and Virgil were on okay terms now, but that didn’t change what he did. That didn’t overrule the taunting, the insults, the nicknames swapped back and forth between the two. A little voice in his head told him that it wasn’t entirely his fault. Virgil had done the same in return. He ignored it.

Roman opened his eyes- when had he closed them?- to look at the ceiling- when had he laid down?- and sighed. The stinging pain on his hand was the only thing stopping him from completely withering away into despair. He should probably bandage it, but he didn’t even have the motivation to get up off the floor.

He lifted his head up off the floor before letting it fall down again with a hard thunk-! He groaned, but not in pain. Physical pain, anyway. 

Creating was hard. You have to know so many different variables, so many different ways of doing all sorts of things. It was so much, and often so daunting that he didn’t even know where to start. On top of that, he embodied Thomas’ hopes, dreams, ego, passion, and his romantic side. Then people like Logan had the audacity to say he wasn’t doing enough-!

Because you aren’t, Roman.

Shut up, voice in his head.

He let his tears drip, drip, drip onto the floor, creating a puddle around his head. He groaned in emotional anguish, closing his eyes and curling up into a ball. His shoulder was being soaked in his tears, but Roman found he couldn’t care less as he cried himself to sleep on his bedroom floor. 

--

Roman woke, awkwardly peeling himself off the floor. Gross, his pyjama shirt was stiff from drip-up tears. He lifted a hand to his face, and- yup, it was on his face, too. He sighed. 

He ignored the pain in his neck as he stretched. He probably deserved it, anyway. Yawning, he walked towards his bed before collapsing. 

If he was right, soon- yup. The bad feelings were already returning, crushing his neutrality like a bug. His breathing picked up, and before he knew it he was hyperventilating again.

He should really get a glass of water, what with all this crying. To do that, though, he’d have to stop crying, lest someone actually notice his suffering. He didn’t want to plague their thoughts with his- his stupid neediness. 

With a huff, Roman decided that if he was going to get through this day without breaking down in front of the others, he needed to do something he would regret. Only because it was hard to hide at times.

He conjured up a razor, already wincing at the thought of the others finding out. But he needed it, he needed the stinging pain along his arms, it distracted him from the thousands of thoughts running around his mind at all times. 

He gasped suddenly, looking down to where he had already drawn 3 thin lines. He hadn’t even noticed…

He watched the beads of blood flow down before snapping himself out of his trance and grabbing a paper towel, tearing a strip off to wrap around the cuts before continuing. 

An unhealthy coping mechanism, but a coping mechanism all the same.

He finished wrapping bandages around his left arm before starting on the right. He’s gotta make sure that absolutely none of the other sides will know what he’s done, or else-!

The door opened.

“Roman!” Patton half-sung, peeking in through the doorway. “Just wanted to tell yo-!”

They stared at each other, Roman’s mind racing to come up with an excuse. Patton stood shock-still, not even blinking as he gaped.

And then he screamed.

[afoolforatook]

Ticklish Fairgame (teaser, I guess....)

So I had a Discord convo the other day that got me on a Fairgame and tickles rant... and I want to share all of it, but a good bit is gonna be in a later chapter of Loving... but I had to share some, cause it’s so damn soft and it’s all I’ve been thinking about. 

So here’s some notes from part of my rant.... (there’s also some stuff from this rant about more SPD stuff and fidgeting/stimming but I’ll find a place for that later...)

In response to “Qrow would do better in a tickle fight because of experience from Ruby and Yang tickle fights when they were little” - 

Bold of you to assume it was Ruby and Yang who made him build up a tolerance....when he lived with teenage Taiyang Xiao Long.

That man has some major "I will tickle my grumpy goth roomie until he admits he likes having friends" energy. Not to mention Summer. 

......

Okay but at first I didn’t know how Qrow would be with tickling.

Because, as much as I love the STRQ Beacon years tickle/pillow fights image, where Qrow and Raven first really learn how to let loose and have friends and be vulnerable.  And the co-parenting/poly STRQ, however you wanna see it, of Branwen/Rose/Xiao Long family tickle piles with the kids.

There’s also a big part of me that sees him reallly not being a huge fan of tickle fights.

It might just be me projecting (a shock, I know) but I can't help but feel like Qrow is one of those people who is extremely EXTREMELY ticklish. To the point where most of the time it's not fun but exhausting. 

I was totally that kid/teen who everyone thought it was adorable how ticklish I was, and would just rush me all at once, trying to be cute and fun. But it was very easily wayyyyy too much, and I'd practically hyperventilate from sensory over-stimulation. My older cousins learned very early not to tickle me when I was a toddler, because I would just immediately start crying. I did not get angry as a kid very often, and many of the few times that I did were because I had to yell in order to get people to stop, because they didn't take me seriously. I was also just extremely sensitive all the time. Any touch that I didn't see coming (and even many I did) and that wasn't solid pressure would have me jump and make my skin crawl. My parents weren’t at all surprised when I got my SPD diagnosis, cause they were like “yeah by the time you were ten we knew there were ways we should and shouldn’t touch you if you didn’t know we were there, because you would just flinch and freeze up and shake and have to have no one touch you at all until you relaxed.” (This wasn’t at all a trauma response, it was purely just a kind of sensory input that I was particularly sensitive to) One of my best friends in high school surprised me by just barely nuzzling the back of my neck with his nose and I actually screamed. Needless to say, I don’t really like tickle fights.

And I feel like touch-starved, spy, intimacy wary, Qrow would be a lot like that and just get overwhelmed pretty quickly. (especially when he was younger and leaving the tribe, where I doubt there was much gentle contact to get him used to it, or teach him not to be ready to fight at the tiniest sign of a threat...)

Like yeah, he'd be adorable for a second, but pretty quickly that would turn to actual stress and panic. He'd jump and practically squeal at tiny innocuous touches, and you'd think it was cute until you saw how genuinely startled and frazzled he was.

And at first I couldn't reconcile that with the STRQ family moments that I like the idea of so much...

But the thing is, they're both true.

With team STRQ, he probably had a lot of that aversion early on. And Tai and Summer picked up on it and didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. But they'd still want to help him relax.

I’d think that Summer at least, if not both of them, would try to ask him outright at first. “Qrow, does it bother you when we try to touch you? Do you want us to stop.” But they’d quickly have realized that he wasn’t going to just tell them that, not yet. They were still practically strangers. He’d just shrug it off and grumble about not caring either way and slump off. But she’d noticed the split second of panic before he covered it up. 

So they paid attention to how he’d react to casual contact. What made him flinch and what didn’t. What got a laugh and what got a held back yelp. What made his shoulders tense and what made them relax.

(Also, I think Raven is similar, though not necessarily for sensory reasons. I think she just, didn’t expect or want that kind of open contact most of the time. The first time Tai tried to do anything even close to tickling her, his arm was immediately in a death grip and she just deadpanned ‘Again and you’ll lose it.’ I think she eventually would get in on some more play wrestling, but I think her physicality in relationships was very much always on her own terms. So the STRQ tickle fights were really only ever STQ with maybe a rare exception.) 

And slowly, as Qrow got more comfortable with them, as he stopped trying to escape group hugs and cuddle piles (which they always let him have the ability to do so if he wanted/needed), they figured out what were good and bad touches. 

He’d let Tai drape over his shoulders and ruffle his hair, as long as he was putting some significant but gentle weight on him. Summer wouldn’t nuzzle at the crook of his neck but just drop her head over on his shoulder while sitting on the couch. He even started to stop balking at the idea/proximity of tickle fights. Summer and Tai would get into a play argument and soon be a blur of arms and legs trying to push the other away and both calling for Qrow to help them. 

And he’d finally stopped scooting further away or leaving the room when that started. He’d chuckle lightly. Eventually, he’d even make some quip about so and so starting it and having to learn to take responsibility for your choices (Not at all in a mocking tone, of course not Summer, why would you even think?!..)

So, as they got closer and understood Qrow’s sensitivities better, tickle fights were never just that. There was always enough grounding pressure of hugs or falling on top of one another or playing with his hair to balance it out. 

I think the first time he actually didn’t try to get away, both Summer and Tai got a little caught up at first and, while still being conscientious of what they were doing, they didn’t actually realize “hey, he’s not running or slipping away from us.”

Whoever realized first probably stopped the other and they pulled away (though still leaving some kind of pressure contact), looking over at Qrow. One of them’d ask something along the lines of ‘Sorry, do you want us to stop?” 

And he’d blush or stammer, rub his neck or no... maybe he’d just freeze for a moment before getting a big grin and diving forward to tickle Summer and say ‘What, you that scared of me winning, huh, pipsqueak?” and the fight would resume. But Tai and Summer were still aware of Qrow’s demeanor, and as soon as he’d tense or shiver one of them would tackle him playfully. 

And once the girls were born, and old enough to start with the horseplay themselves, they’d have taught them those rules too, even if just subliminally.

“Yang, Ruby, don't just run up to him and poke him in the side, just so you can watch him jump and then run away. Tackle him, hang onto his legs, GET EM!”

Sometimes, especially when the girls were really little, it might have gotten too much. But he'd either be able to slip away after and unwind, or better yet, the girls would tire themselves out and want to curl up pressed to his chest and take a nap. And that pressure, their warmth and softness and trust would make his skin stop crawling. 

But then Summer died and he started staying away more. He started isolating himself more again. And pair that with having to be alert on solo missions and spy work, and he quickly went back to the old jumpiness.

He became very good at not letting people sneak up on him, both in battle and on missions...and at home.  On the somewhat rare occasions that he was home and awake/sober enough when the girls still wanted to play with him, he'd put on a strong face and rough house for a bit, but by then he almost always had to slip away, transform just for long enough so that he’d stop being so aware of the tiniest breeze on his skin (he might be just as sensitive, or more so, in his corvid form, but I think that would be in a much more positive and simpler way than normal... if he’d ever let people touch him in that form, that is..) 

But as the girls got older, they quietly understood the subtle signs that told them what were the good and bad ways to show their uncle affection. 

I'm thinking Ruby jumping onto his arm in V3. Still very touchy, affectionate. But diving for his arm instead of his waist, literally putting all her weight on him. I’d have to look back through other hugs or moments to better speak to them, but as far as I can remember off the top of my head, the softest we’ve seen her be with him is at the end of V4 when he’s still unconscious from his fight with Tyrian. There’s the hug at the farm, but to me (from what I remember) that seemed more cautious because of how vulnerable he was, and she keeps her head away from him some. And then the hug in the airship, and while she doesn’t tackle him and it’s still a pretty soft movement, she presses the sides of their heads together, not putting her chin on his shoulder/neck like you might usually. I’d have to look at her hugs with others but I think she’s tended to bury her face in WBY’s shoulders more. It’s kinda a stretch but hey...

So, then we get to V7.

And no one has actually tried to tickle famed huntsman, previously notorious drunk who is only very recently sober (and not having his senses numbed or otherwise affected, aside from withdrawal stuff) Qrow Branwen, in a 

Very. Long. Time.

[kotilae]

Hi, i really like your art and wanted to ask, what do you think about Stone Ocean's ending? I would be extremely grateful if you could take your time and answer me, because there's one very important topic about it that you might be interested in too. Kind Regatds

Finally getting around to answering this. It is early in the morning while I’m starting this and I’m still very tired even after coffee so bear with me (also thank you!! <3)

Gonna put this under a cut for spoiler reasons and I just know I’m gonna end up rambling

Okay. STONE OCEAN. In short, all I can say is W H E W. It was a rollercoaster of emotions from start to finish and I loved every second of it! Araki has such an amazing way of making characters & stories & interactions, and I get attached so, so easily (which of course leads to many tears but we’ll get into that).

There was a lot leading up to the ending that I remember yelling about to a few of my friends. Most notably I went to the person who got me into JoJo in the first place (a very good friend I’ve known for a very long time now. If ur reading this Eli I love u but also damn you)  and I just went hog through the whole finale arc to him. The abilities, the character struggles and desperation, how they held onto hope even though everything was hopeless... just, HOO. Good Stuff.

Pucci is a FANTASTIC villain. I loved him by design alone before I even fully got into the series, back when I was just starting to really sit down and watch part 1, then after reading Stone Ocean, I was given an actual CHARACTER to stick to that image and it only solidified my love for him. My most favored villains are the ones that see their own causes as right and just, even if they’re going about it the wrong way. It’s also one of the reasons why I adored Death Note so much, but that’s a whole other tangent that I already spent 3 hours ranting to my brother about a few nights ago. Anyway,

It was so incredible and so different to see the villain WINNING like that all the time, up until the very end. Most of the time when a villain is winning like that, something happens that knocks them down and causes the protags to prevail--but not this time, and that’s what really stuck with me about it. I already knew how it ended before I read the part because I Am Not Immune To Spoilers (aka a friend will mention something and I’ll lead myself down a rabbit hole of “I don’t need sleep, I need answers”) but seeing it in action was a whole different level of off-the-shits, as-Joseph-would-say “OH MY GOD!” Made In Heaven is such a cool ability and I was losing my MIND over that whole arc. Every time Pucci made a move, every time the gang made plans to stop him and inevitably failed, I just had to sit there and take it all in because it was AMAZING. Painful because I had to see all my favorites get wrecked, but amazing. And I feel so bad for Emporio, that poor boy ;_; Stuck in an endless cycle of repeating timelines, always slightly different but ending the same. And that just ties everything together at the beginning: why he was hiding in the first place, how he knew to warn Jolyne not to go in that room and speak with Jotaro. And he still has hope through all these which just DESTROYS me because even though he probably knows it’ll be the same, he still thinks “maybe we can stop it this time” and just oof.

And unrelated to the ending (kinda?) but alluding back to my self-spoiling, I also regrettably spoiled myself on the entire Heavy Weather arc. I would’ve loved to be surprised by that, but I had to read Weather Report’s wiki like the town fool I am. But still, that was another case of seeing it in action was way different than just reading about it. And I got HEAVILY attached to Weather. I don’t really often cry over fiction (regardless of me saying “there were many tears” about things all the time), but I made the mistake of putting on sad piano music while reading it and it got the waterworks going big-time. It was an Angel Beats situation all over again where I just had to sit in silent tears for 20 minutes before moving on.

But yeah, just, holy moly. I really hope we get an anime adaptation because I need to see Made In Heaven animated. (There’s actually a fan animation one of my friends sent in discord and I internally screamed about it for a good hour because it’s INCREDIBLE. Made by TheDashingDoctorK (who also made that one really good DOOM/Animal Crossing crossover animation. u know the one) and I’ll be rb’ing it after this since I just found it on here, but here’s the yt link for it: https://youtu.be/SAsM_nd1ULQ )

Part 6′s ending was outstanding and I loved it with every fiber of my being, including how sad it made me. And we might’ve lost everything in the end there, but we gained Steel Ball Run, which I’m currently about 1/3 of the way through and enjoying immensely.

[someonefantastic]

I Did Not See That Coming

Truth be told, I never though I would actually do something with this concept. Originally when I got the idea, it was just an angsty au that I told to the psych discord and had no plans of actually writing. But this prompt/subprompts fit so well that I couldn't resist. Summary: Juliet is on her way to save Shawn from Carp... and himself. But when she arrives on the scene, what she finds is much worse than anything she imagined. Warnings: death (none of the main cast dw), blood, gunshot wound also on ao3 ___ She rounded the corner, gun held steady, eyes darting around the room. Her hands trembled and she took a deep breath, trying to calm them. Backup was right behind her, she wasn’t going in completely alone.

Shawn would be okay.

She mentally cursed her boyfriend. She knew how angry he was about his dad being shot and how badly he wanted to take down Carp but going after him alone was a bad idea. Carp was an arms dealer with lots of bodyguards and Shawn, even though he had rather impressive psychic abilities, was still just a man. She just hopped his abilities would be enough until they got there.

She motioned to the officers behind her, a silent bid for them to follow her into the next room. Shawn had to be around somewhere. Not only had she seen him looking up the house’s location on her computer, but there had also been reports of an explosion and a man in black sneaking onto the property. The whole thing screamed “Shawn Spencer.”

“Clear.” One of the officers to her right called and she nodded, beckoning them forward still.

There was some shuffling and a few indistinguishable words from the next room. Gun cocked, she rushed towards the sound, eyes sharp. With a deep breath, she turned the corner, almost dropping her gun as she did.

Dead bodies were strewn about. Carp, Drake, and the FBI agent, blood dripping from misshapen holes in their chests. Standing in the middle of them was Shawn, holding a bloody gun, crimson staining his pants and hands.

She could feel the air slip out of her lungs, her voice coming out barely above a whisper, “Shawn.”

His eyes were wide, “Jules, I swear this isn’t what this looks like. They were dead when I got here.”

Swallowing roughly, her eyes darted from the bodies to his face. She wanted to believe him, wanted him to just explain all of this away but... he was standing in the middle of three dead people, blood on his hands and a weapon on him.

She shook her head, wishing the violent churning in her stomach would go away. “I’m sorry Shawn.” She hated how weak her voice sounded, “I need to take you down to the station.”

“Okay, yeah. I understand. That’s fine, we’ll get this all cleared up.” She moved behind him and he jerked his head around, “Uh, Jules, what are you doing?”

The lump in her throat refused to go away.

“Shawn Spencer. You are under arrest for the murder of Jerry Carp, Julian Drake, and a Federal Agent.” She pulled his arms behind him, snapping cuffs around his wrists. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”

As she spoke he protested, moving against her. “Jules, sweetheart, please. I didn’t do it! Please, you have to believe me!”

She stopped and stared into his eyes, tears swimming in her own. She hoped with her look that she could convey everything; that she did believe him, but she had to do her job, that she was sorry, and most importantly… that she loved him. ___

She stood behind the one-way glass, watching Shawn in the interrogation room. He sat, head in his hands as the Chief questioned him from her place across the table.

“Mr Spencer, you have to admit that the evidence here isn’t stacking in your favor. You were found with the victim's blood on you and a murder weapon in your hand, not to mention you have a personal vendetta with the victim.” She folded her hands before her. “Now we’re running tests on the weapon but if we get a match, I’m afraid it doesn’t look good for you.” Leaning forward, her eyes narrowed. “So, do you want to tell us what the hell happened?”

Shawn frowned, eyes distraught, the look almost unnatural for his usually cheery expression. “I promise I didn’t kill him. I only went to see Carp, to take him in, but when I got there, they were all already dead.” He then gestured to his pants which were marked with crimson, “I got their blood on me because I was checking their pulse and seeing if I could revive them. I found the gun outside and picked it up for extra protection just in case.”

“And how did you find Carp’s location? That was top-secret government information.”

He shrugged, “I had a vision.”

Juliet didn’t hear anything else after that. Her mind raced, trying to comprehend what had happened. She felt like she’d been shot in the chest. Numbness spread throughout her body as she stared at her boyfriend. She couldn’t even understand what was currently going on. All she could see was his face, his face so earnest and innocent.

Stomach twisting, she fought back bile. She had been worried about him. Worried for his safety, for their future. But the worry had long faded and now she only felt anger and betrayal..

The rational side of her brain kicked in and she knew she needed to talk to him. Jumping to conclusions and not communicating was often the end of all good relationships. She was better than that. She didn’t want what they had to end, they had worked so hard and taken so long to get where they were. After everything they had been through there was no way he had lied for their entire relationship. All she needed was a minute alone with him and he would clear everything up… she trusted that he would.

But the fear and doubt and anger remained present all throughout the interrogation. She stood quietly off to the side as ballistics came back with the report that the bullets did indeed match Shawn’s gun and that only his fingerprints were on the weapon. When they pulled footage off the security tapes it was revealed that Shawn had been the only one around at the estimated time of death.

She didn’t say anything when Carlton was placed on temporary suspension so they could investigate his involvement with Shawn- after all, he did supply him with the weapons and transportation. She couldn’t even bring herself to comfort Gus as he watched his best friend be hauled off to the holding cells to await transfer to a prison.

The world didn’t feel real. It was as if someone had thrown her into a whole new dimension and she was living a life that wasn’t supposed to be hers. She just wanted to go home and cuddle up with Shawn but he was behind bars and she needed answers.

She waited until it was just the two of them, not wanting to display her personal life to anyone else. In a perfect world, they would have this conversation somewhere less public- actually they wouldn’t be having this conversation at all. But it wasn’t a perfect world, far from it, and her anger drove her to not wait any longer.

Shawn was slouching against the bars as she walked up, the metal pressing into his forehead. When he saw her, his head jerked up, eyes hopeful and bright. “Jules! Oh, honey, I’m so glad you're here! This is not exactly how I saw this night going,” He laughed, the sound flat. “I was picturing more Carp getting arrested and we celebrate over dinner.” After glancing around his cell, he looked back at her, “I guess we could still have dinner but it's kind of an awkward space and there’s not much to celebrate-”

She held up a hand, silencing him. “Shawn, I need to ask you something.” He nodded mutely and she shifted her feet. “This could just be me… overthinking things, but... you wouldn’t lie to me, right?”

His eyebrows furrowed, “Sweetheart, what are you talking about? Of course, I wouldn’t lie, especially about this. I swear I didn’t murder anyone.”

Her heart beat furiously as she nodded. “I know, I know and I wouldn’t usually have doubts like this but,” She swallowed heavily, “the FBI, they had all of their papers all over Vick’s desk. Couldn’t you have seen the file on Carp and figured out where he lived?”

“Uh, yeah… I-I guess.” His eyes darted across her face, searching for something that she didn’t know she could provide.

“I’m sure there’s an explanation for this and I don’t mean to stir up trouble but, I know I won’t be able to stop thinking about this until I know-” She took a deep breath, trying to calm the flurry of words that were spewing from her mouth, “You told Vick that you had a vision of where Carp lived, but I saw you looking up his address on my computer so you knew he lived there. You already had his address from the FBI… didn’t you?”

He turned his head, staring out the open door to the holding cells, a faraway look in his eyes. Her hands were shaking and she folded her arms to try and calm them. Every second he didn’t answer her, her heartbeat grew louder and louder in her ears, anger stirring in her chest- its fire threatened to consume her.

“Shawn, are you listening to me?” She practically yelled, her voice cracking with emotion.

He whipped his head back towards her, face determined. “Falling in love with you was never part of the plan, okay? This all started because I had no other choice, a sort of self-preservation.” A small smile pulled at his lips, “And it was amazing. I finally found something I’m good at- This is how I do good and I’m good at what I do.” His smile broke into a grin and he motioned around them, “Look at this, look at everything that’s happened. Hundreds of bad guys have been put in jail, most of them murderers, because of this. Isn’t that a good thing?”

She took a small step back, stomach churning. Eyes wide, she bit her lip, her hands falling to her sides grasping for something, anything to keep her from falling over. Her whole world was crashing down around her. Everything she knew about the man she loved had been a lie and he dared to call it a good thing? She couldn’t breathe, it felt like someone had ripped the air out of her lungs, taking her heart along with it- and in a way, he did.

“What are you talking about?” She spat out, eyes brimming with tears. His face fell, eyes going wide and mouth hanging open, but he gave no response. “Are you telling me this is all a lie?” Her chest burned while the rest of her body went numb. She couldn’t believe this. They had known each other for almost seven years, dated for one and a half, and never once had he told her the truth.

“Please…” His voice was barely above a whisper, “Please don’t make me answer that.”

“Oh my god.” Seven years. She should have known, should have figured it out sooner. But she had allowed herself to be swept up by his charm and his humor, his good looks and his caring heart. The way he hid what she thought was his true self behind a playful facade... she should have known that every facade has layers. “Oh my god, I feel so stupid.”

“No, sweetheart,” She cringed at the pet name and his shoulders dropped, staring hopelessly at her, “no, this is all me.”

A tear rolled down her cheek and she hastily wiped it away. He didn’t deserve to see her cry, to know just how badly he hurt her. “You’re right, Shawn,” She hated how her voice shook as she spoke, “This is all me. You’re on your own.”

The pain in her chest doubled as she turned on her heel, fleeing from the room. It hurt so badly, the pain so unbearable that she couldn’t even cry until hours later. She simply went home and stared at the wall for what seemed like ages.

No tears.

No words.

No anger.

She just felt numb.

[fcarher]

THE MEGA RP PLOTTING SHEET / MEME.

First and foremost, recall that no one is perfect, we all have witnessed some plotting once which did not went too well, be it because of us or our partner. So here have this, which may help for future plotting. It’s a lot! Yes, but perhaps give your partners some insight? Anyway BOLD what fully applies, italicize if only somewhat.

Mun Name: slug / ellie     Age: 19       Contact: IM, discord

Character(s) I rp: Yunaeisha Adynora, other demons from my lore Which muse(s) inspires you the most atm?(for MM): Yunaeisha Current Fandom(s): None really  Fandom(s) you have an AU for:  Naruto, PKMN, Magi, Gangsta, OPM, MHA, Hazbin Hotel & currently working on an ATLA verse My language(s): german, polish, italian, english   Themes I’m interested in for rp:   Fantasy / Science fiction / Horror / Western / Romance / Thriller / Mystery / Dystopia / Adventure / Modern / Erotic / Crime / Mythology / Classic / History / Renaissance / Medieval / Ancient / War / Family / Politics / Religion / School / Adulthood / Childhood / Apocalyptic / Gods / Sport / Music / Science / Fights / Angst / Smut / Drama / etc. Themes/Genres you have an AU for: highschool, modern & fantasy/medieval

Preferred Thread length: one-liner / 1 para / 2 para / 3+ / novella. Asks can be send by: Mutuals / Non-Mutuals / Personals / Anons. Can Asks be continued?:   YES / NO   only by Mutuals?:  YES / NO. Preferred thread type: crack / casual nothing too deep / serious / deep as heck. Is realism / research important for you in certain themes?:   YES / NO. Are you atm open for new plots?:  YES / NO / DEPENDS. Do you handle your draft / ask - count well?:  YES / NO / SOMEWHAT. How long do you usually take to reply?:  24h / 1 week / 2 weeks / 3+ / months / years. I’m okay with interacting: original characters / a relative of my character (an oc) / duplicates / my fandom / crossovers / multi-muses / self-inserts / people with no AU verse for my fandom / canon-divergent portrayals / au-versions (as main or only verse). Do you post more ic or occ?:  IC / OOC. Are you selective with following others?:  YES / NO / DEPENDS.  

Best ways to approach you for rp/plotting: the best way is just to straight up approach me. most often than not, just liking a post is not enough because it’s too vague ?? like if i post an idea & you like that, i’ll still be hesitant when it comes to roleplaying or approaching you because, while i appreciate such gestures, i’m just too anxious. therefore, plopping into my IMs without a properly fleshed out idea is also fine ! it, at least, gives me the hint that you’re actively seeking interaction. however, just saying “i want to roleplay & plot !” won’t cut it; at least, have something in mind, please !

What expectations do you hold towards your plotting partner:  basic ideas & pouring their heart into plotting! i don’t mind waiting, at all, so if you’re busy, don’t worry about keeping me waiting; i completely understand since i’m also often busy with work or university. but !! please don’t only come to me with the statement: “i want to plot!” it’s not gonna cut it & it’s not gonna help with a proper interaction, at all. if i approach someone, most often than not, i have SOME sort of idea in mind. but yeah, being passionate is the most important thing!

When you notice the plotting is rather one-sided, what do you do?:  most often than not, the conversation will die down because i will loose motivation; i don’t like it because i’ll feel like a bother & i shouldn’t feel that way when it comes to a hobby! therefore, one-sided plotting is one of my deal breakers; i usually end the conversation & there will be little to no interaction happening. like i said; i don’t mind waiting, i just hate that feeling of coming on TOO strong when my plotting partner delivers no input. 

How do you usually plot with others, do you give input or leave most work towards your partner?:  often than not, i start off with rather simple question like; are you interested in a certain verse ? do you already have something in mind ? if not, i will go through their about page & ask them things about their character & how that could possibly bring our characters to interact. sometimes, the about pages of a muse cannot give you every single bit of information; muses grow & change with each thread, therefore, it’s often better to just ask the people about their characters ! & from then on, it often just comes naturally. 

When a partner drops the thread, do you wish to know?:   YES / NO / DEPENDS. - And why?: if the thread is not THAT important or vital for our character’s relationship; i don’t mind & won’t need to know if the thread is dropped. sometimes, if it’s a heavily plotted thread & i’ve anticipated the interaction a lot; i’d appreciate a quick heads-up from my partner that they’re not feeling that certain thread any longer; i don’t mind that !! - What should your partner do when dropping a thread?: they don’t need to tell me; SOMETIMES, it’s just a nice gesture but most of the time, i don’t care, we can always start another thread !!

What could possibly lead you to drop a thread?:  many things can lead to me dropping a thread; just losing motivation, having no muse for a certain genre or simply having the feeling that my partner is not liking it, any longer (ex. extreme lack of trying to match the reply length ). my health & my schedule can also, sadly, affect my motivation, so, more often than not, i tend to drop shorter threads & keep longer ones.  - Will you tell your partner?:   YES / NO / DEPENDS.

Is communication in the rpc important to you?   YES / NO. - And why?:  i get anxious really fast if people stop replying for a very long time, out of the blue. it has happened to me once before with a good friend with whom i have no contact with any longer due to miscommunication & them not trying to communicate the issue with me; therefore, yes, it is very important. i wanna know if something is bothering you; i wanna know if you like something very much; i wanna know what’s up ! we’re humans & we’re adults; we can talk about this.  - Are you okay with absolute honesty, even if it may means hearing something negative about you and/or portrayal?:  yes ! as long as it is constructive criticism & not straight-up bashing my characters or lore; i’m all for it. i don’t mind hearing negative things; in fact, i appreciate the honesty & it gives me room to work on myself & my writing ! - Do you think you can handle such situation in a mature way?  YES / NO.

Why do you rp again, is there a goal?:  building relationships that LAST & exploring my muses through & through; it is amazing how much yuna has grown through interactions with others; how different she has become from the yuna i once started out with; it’s almost been a year now & it’s just amazing. however, i’m not stopping anytime soon; THERE IS SO MUCH MORE I WANT TO EXPLORE !! the ultimate goal is for me to just look at my blog & be completely proud of what i have accomplished & written; i want fleshed out relationships & threads; deep stuff !!

Wishlist, be it plots or scenarios:  yuna talking with someone about her struggles; mentally & physically. being open about her abusive father & how it has traumatized her & painted men in the worst picture one could imagine. HOWEVER; a hard thing because i don’t want these things to be pre-est or something; i want a thread where there is struggling, screams, conflict ! it is rather hard to find someone, though, who is willing & fitting to go onto that long journey with me & yuna. also, i’d love to write about darker stuff; i love fluff, though, sometimes i sure want a bit of that, too. 

Themes I won’t ever rp / explore:  the only things i won’t rp or explore are stated in my rules; ex. pedophilia, rape & really descriptive animal abuse. killing, torture, gore as well as cheating, heartbreak or toxic relationships are okay, while i do prefer to have a deeper bond with someone while exploring the latter & be communicating the whole time; i think these are really REAL topics & that’s why i wouldn’t mind exploring them because it does happen, more than one would like them to happen. however, if i see you, the mun, glorifying or romanticizing these; just no. 

What Type of Starters do you prefer / dislike, can’t work with?: i like everything with some sort of substance; i love short ones as much as long ones, nevertheless, you have to give me something to work with. yuna would ignore anyone not of any interest or value to her; therefore, if your muse just asks her random questions, the interaction will go nowhere. if you’re unsure; just ask !!

What type of characters catch your interest the most?: i love characters with uniqueness to them; it can be a certain interest, certain appearance or their species can be totally unique to them; i’ll love it ! i do have a thing for villains, though; always had, even when i was young 8^) so, dark, stubborn & “evil” characters catch my interest far more than a really nice muse who just is all smiles all day. i love a muse that can kick mine & yuna’s ass, basically. someone with strong morals or who is just really set on their beliefs can also offer conflict which i ADORE !! i need it; i live for it !!

What type of characters catch your interest the least?:  really kind & unbothered muses who are self-sacrificing, perfect & loved by everyone for no reason ?? idk, i just think it’s bad writing. everyone has flaws; no one is perfect ! 

What are your strong aspects as rp partner?:  i am a very open person who will talk with you about anything & is keen on exploring our character’s relationship at all times & through all means; i often send my rp partners prompts in form of my yuna just being her dumb-self or through memes ! i will constantly think about our characters & will try to have them interact as much as possible. i am, most of the time, very active & respond to the threads fairly quickly ! if i am totally invested; you’ll get everything you want; a moodboard, an edit, a drawing, etc. i literally pour my heart & soul into every bond my muse has; i live for them. oh !! i also love asking people question about their characters; i just love learning new things about them !! 

What are your weak aspects as rp partner?: i’m very slow out of character; i don’t approach muns a lot because i’m scared to be a bother, working on it ! i often ramble a lot & my writing can become a bit convoluted & hard to understand, i apologize ! i tend to not message people on discord as often as i’d like to; mostly because i’m really socially awkward or just don’t think that what i want to show to them is THAT important. i’m not as straight-forward as i wish myself to be; however, even with all that; i still have a lot of fun & am acknowledging & actively working on my weak aspects ! 

Do you rp smut?:  YES / NO. Do you prefer to go into detail?:  YES / NO / DEPENDS. Are you okay with black curtain?:  YES / NO. - When do you rp smut? More out of fun or character development?:  often, it is because i want to develop the relationship or yuna’s character; she’s a very sexual being who hardly connects to someone emotionally; therefore, writing sex & exploring the vulnerability behind it can be really beautiful ! though, fun is also involved !  - Anything you would not want to rp there?:  non-consensual stuff is a no-go ! also, certain kinks that make me uncomfortable are also off the table; ex. anything involving bodily fluids other than spit. 

Are ships important to you?:   YES / NO. Would you say your blog is ship-focused?:   YES / NO. Do you use read more?:  YES / NO / SOMETIMES. Are you: Multi-Ship / Single-Ship / Dual-Ship  —  Multiverse / Singleverse. - What do you love to explore the most in your ships?:  i love the conflicts the most; clashing ideals or just two stubborn muses arguing for the heck of it is really fun & can develop the relationship beautifully ! yuna is a person who likes someone that can be properly fought with, verbally here. but of course, i also adore the very soft moments!! i love meaningless fluff; it warms my heart.  - What is your smut tag?: SINFUL.

Are you okay with pre-established relationships?: YES / NO. - And what kind of ones?: nothing TOO drastic; a friendship, a rivalry is a-okay ! however, i’m very hesitant when it comes to having pre-est. romantic relationships; though, you can quickly change my mind if you pour your soul into the plotting; then i’m fine with it ! everything that needs time when writing also needs time when plotting; don’t just straight up jump into something if you’re not able to give it your all.

► SECTION ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

- What could possibly make your Muse interesting towards others, why should they rp with this particular character of yours now, what possible plots do they offer?:  i think yuna is a person with whom it is easy to form relationships with; it takes a bit of time but due to her rather drastic ideals & opinions; anything can be founded within seconds. she doesn’t hold back when it comes to her honesty & conflicts will arise. also, for all muses with demonic or deity backgrounds; being a daughter of the literal queen of hell, though, also harboring fragments of a god’s soul makes her unique in the supernatural world which can spark interest with your character or even they can develop an ill-will towards her ? i think it’s really interesting exploring what makes one work & go on & yuna has the philosophical potential to tickle that out of your muse; she question EVERYTHING. now for certain plots; one-sided love or even friendships are always really interesting, especially when she is the one having such feelings. other than that; she has enormous & dangerous powers; so if you’re into character or world-building; can offer that as well !

- With what type of Muses do you usually struggle to rp with?:  humans; she doesn’t approach humans who are just kind & have nothing to offer for her, the least she’d do is have sex with them or kill them to harvest their life energy. i’m sorry but she really does hate all of humanity & to change that opinion ? man, you must be the most stubborn person ever.  - With what type of Muses do they usually work well with?:  characters who are of supernatural or demonic nature; she’ll be very interested & even nosy to a point. also, very attractive characters who are not afraid to speak their mind; she’s really superficial most of the time & will flirt with anything that she deems good-looking. muses who have ideals that contrast hers or that are similar to her but also, generally, people who are open-minded. 

- What interests your Muse(s) in general:  sex, parties, plants & flowers, astronomy, writing, demons & hell, the underground scene, killing, knives & playing the piano - What do they desire, is their goal?:  the questions that bother her the most are; why did her mother had to die ? why would nobody help her while she was being abused by her father ? why was she kept alive by her sisters ? is there love out there for someone like her ? what do these strange visions mean that occur almost every night ? she has a lot of things she wants to experience & wishes to have a normal life once she has killed her other mother, lilith, which is her ultimate goal, at the moment.  - What catches their interest first when meeting someone new?:  their appearance; the scent of their blood & if it differs from humans; how they react towards her & what they do in front of her.  - What do they value in a person?:    strong opinions, loyalty, good looks, humor, strength (not limited to physical strength) - What themes do they like talking about?:  herself or the world & the state of it; she likes being philosophical with some, can often be somewhat self-centered; THOUGH; it is almost always for her to see how they would react to that. 

- Which themes bore them?:  love & drama; she does not care a lot for gossip or anything relating to it; the topic of love, no matter in which sense, is always brushed off because she just doesn’t find any appeal in it. 

- Did they ever went through something traumatic?:  Being the reason her own mother committed suicide; Her father & sister abusing her all her life, spouting lies & beating her until she could stand no more while her other sisters would watch & do nothing, even though, they were supposed to support each other; laewa, one of her sisters, fancying the idea of killing yuna for the greater good; two of her best friends turning on her when they find out she’s not human & then being killed right in front of her eyes; her one & only boyfriend protecting her from a demon hunter & being killed in the process - What could possibly trigger them?:  loud sudden noises; making fun of her attachment to her late ex-boyfriend, being awfully nice to her, the sight of any dog or wolf, tender touches (esp. her back being touched), being alone with her thoughts for far too long  - What could set them off, enrage them?:  people who make fun of her & her powers; calling her a monster; not understanding her pain when she opens up; purposefully touching her back or any other scarred skin, being nosy  - What could lead to an instant kill?:  you are a demon hunter that does not show remorse when killing demons with a consciousness, trying to kill her, killing one of her comrades 

- Is there someone /-thing they hate?:  Keela Adynora, Myra Adynora (Father, Sister), the other D.O.L.s, EYES’ superiors (the organization she works for), Humans, Lilith - Is there someone /-thing they love?:  Evelin Adynora (Her biological mother)

Is your Muse easy to approach?: YES / NO. - Best ways to approach them?: If you’re not quite human or are a demon, you could literally stand next to her & be silent; she’ll become curious on her own. other than that; be interesting or flirt with her; just do something that does not involve small talk; she hates that.  - Where are they usually to find?:  strip club (her workplace), bars, clubs, clearings within a forest, nice areas that are full of trees & plants; a roof-top

Something you may still want to point out about your muse?:  Yuna is basically pandora’s box personified; she may seem nice & attractive from the outside but within her are sleeping demons that only wait to be awakened. & withal, she is still a cutie who will become your number one supporter & protector if you manage to build a proper relationship with. it’s hard to get through that shell & what awaits is NOT that pretty but with years upon years of abuse, neglect & shit being thrown her way; it’s not easy being a carefree immortal. 

CONGRATS!!! You managed it, now tag your mutuals! ♥

Tagged by:  @skyvar , i srsly love these so much, snow !! thank you for tagging me <3 i had so much fun 8′)  Tagging:  @thevvolf ; @nezumi-vc-103221 ; @empiia ; @dvojakyvlk ; @childrenxfthemoon ; @hensetsu​​ ; @goldempire​​ ; @animatedatrophy​ ; @talonness​ ; @shikkotsunin​ ; @wcrthlessanimal​ & anyone else !!