#honestly kinda fun to go back i truly just drew whatever

[sollndn]

here's a very mixed bag sketch dump dating from last year to like a couple of weeks ago, i was going through my old files and thought it’d be neat to gather the ones i liked :]

[sunset-bridge]

Can I ask what those monster designs are for? I like them a lot :0

THANK YOU for enabling me guys,,, SNIFFS ur so real all of you real cuervoheads

ANYWAYS. ok honestly i need to iron details A LOT of them but basically, it stemmed from this drawing i did for day one of ake shoe week, i got a beauty and the beast idea so i drew that on the fly. BUT LATER i kept rotating it in my head the concept and like. yea

ME TALKING WAY TOO MUCH UNDER CUT SORRY

so. basic idea is that goro was a normal guy but his dad is a little bastard and cursed him with the mask, transforming him into a beast, presumably so he wouldnt interfere with anything since hes like a . king or an important general or smth so it would be a scandal etc etc. then he sent him to a funny forest and goro is cursed to never be able to take the mask off and also never get out of the forest as long as hes wearing it. anyone else can enter and get out just fine its just goro whos kinda trapped there like a cute lion circling a cage so he goes a bit. bit delulu and also hes of course so mad at everyone

AND sergio ok. i havent quite decided but for now i think hes like. the son of the queen of some sort of flower kingdom but the queen didnt really. want him (T_T). but ok whatever hes here now because people kinda found out she was gonna have a kid so it would be abit sus if . he disappeared. anyways hes like half demon or something yes. so hes obvs not his dad's son (the king) but the queen pretends he is and also everyone believes this BUT sergio knows the truth obvs like. hey why am i half demon huh.,,. ANYWAYS his demon transformation is triggered by strong honest emotions of any kind , so he developed a cute Psychological Mask (pp...pers..on...a) where hes so unauthentic and pretends to be a cute little bumbling but charming idiot macho man etc etc just a bro guy yes thats sergio thats him yup totally cute prince flower guy and absolutely NOthing else.

OK so . i have no idea why but i guess sergio has to go into the forest for some reasonnn and he meets the Beast who is only known to people as The Crow and like. hes like. huh theres something funny about this animal!!! so ofc he comes back to try to catch another glimpse and , he feels, hey, this is no Animal theres something under there. this is a guy i think. this is just his gut but yknow

so now hes determined to know the truth about this beast , honestly just because it sounds interesting and fun to find out and hes so chronically bored this might be like. cool. ofc goro at first is very hostile and rude and Violent but sergio is like. cmooon man cmooon ahahahah. and well later he finds himself Actually Having Fun sometimes when hanging out with sergio NO this is not happening not even true <-- goro thoughts. like he already gave up being a Person because everyone just sees him as a stupid violent animal monster so like. he leaned into it and drove everyone away AND HE LIKES IT THIS WAY nope he doesnt want to be truly loved and needed no way not even happening what the HELL!!

anyways enter a bunch of Stuff here sure i can. try to elaborate more later but ..important bits now

OK SO goros mask curse thing. supposedly it can only be taken off by another person, who loves the wearer honestly and truly yadda yadda fairy tale things whatever. but like. goro has kinda given up on that cuz like. who tf is gonna like him like this. so might as well sink in etc. also he doesnt like himself that much either so that doesnt help

ALSO IMPORTANT he doesnt want anyone to love him out of pity either!!!! GRRA he. he doesnt want this for real. so if anyone tried to like. love him but just out of pity like ooo poor monster guy i will love you and take ur cute mask off. NOPE not that NOPE!!!

BUT he doesnt even tell sergio the conditions anyways . they just proceed to hang out and whatever. onnneee day i guess they have a littttle scuffle and sergio kinda transforms a bit because Feelings and goro is like. WTF.,,.. hey hello ??? and sergio is lik UHM.,,. proceeds to wall up and pretend that didnt happen but this makes goro so mad like. hey wtf u want me to open up but u keep shit like this to yourself? hypocrite loser etc etc

so later they end up fighting like. goro is like. shut the fuck up im tired of you and your stupid idiot faake friendliness just leave me be like damn and sergio is like NO dumbass i do like hanging out with you WILL you listen a bit. anyways sergio transforms again a bit against his will but he cant help it. they fiiiight and then they stop because they are going to Die but sergio finally explains that he was afraid of what people may think of him if they knew he was half demon freakazoid thing and . and. he did think of telling goro maybe but his ego and pride and Fear got the best of him NO WAY no he cant be weak and vulnerable nope. but ..,,, maybe..,

so ofc goro is like. fucking idiot dumbass as if i also wasnt a monster too. eye-to-eye moment of rare vulnerability for both... something about being on the same level and opening up and feeling free with someone etc

anyways they hang out more after this like cute rivals now and they play scuffle sometimes wahoo !! sergio can relax around goro and transform and he feels so Free when hes with him etc.

insert more bits here. ok so goro. hes also afraid of sergio not thinking he was Cool and Awesome and stuff if he did manage to take the mask off.,,, what was he without the mask? he was just a Guy with anger issues and nothing in his heart…! at least like this he could be THE cool beast rival friend yknow. this is all he had going for him ! who is he going to be if he takes it off....

well finally he one day FINALLY tells sergio about the mask and the curse and the conditions and sergio is like. pffft. ok. and asks him to let him take a try . but goro is like. huh. wtf no its not gonna work. but he convinces him, and wow it works ! goro didnt even consider that "love" didnt necesarilly had to refer to romantic love. stupid. but also i dont think he really thought sergio considered him such a close friend/rival/weirdo etc .. THIS IS SO AWESOME thinks goro but only on his head of course.,,, cuz he knows sergio doesnt ever pity him he honestly respects him and sees him as his cool rival this is so cool..,,, waugh

so ! the cute guy behind the crow mask is revealed ! huzzah! sergio is like. what the hell you said you were ugly !!! liar!!! eheheh. gets punched in the ribs immeadiatly

:3 WOW!!! i love the relationship between joker and goro can u tell...! me when the. me when i cant tell you how to see me etc etc me when someone has the same type of brainwave as you etc

i will probably draw a few more things for this au WAHOO

[the-chicken-or-the-banana]

andreil and goodbye kisses (pt. 8) ft. wymack (+ a bonus)

part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 || i'm actually feeling kinda sad that this is the last part but also my brain can't come up with more ideas lmao

wymack stands by the fact that he doesn't get paid enough to deal with andrew and neil's shit (both as separate idiots and together)

but he does care for all his foxes, despite all the... difficulties that surround them

and honestly? one of the biggest struggles he faces is how absolutely thick-headed and oblivious the foxes can be regarding andrew and neil's relationship

truly, the heart-eyes neil constantly gave andrew were so obvious, he's not sure how everyone missed them before

but because he's so observant, he doesn't fail to notice how the older foxes keep giving strange looks to neil whenever he leaves andrew's side now

wymack doesn't get in the way of his foxes' personal lives. but if they start causing disturbances on the court, it's his job as coach to get to the bottom of these issues

(okay, maybe he and dan catch up on the so-called "drama" in the team every few weeks but it's for completely exy-related business. ahem. of course)

one day, wymack corners neil and lets him know that he and dan were to meet in his office after practice to talk through some logistics for the winter banquet

neil agrees, and practice goes smoothly (or, as smoothly as it can go with the foxes)

but after practice is... interesting

wymack swears he had no ulterior motives planned with the meeting; it really was supposed to be a genuine discussion

but the outcome of it was certainly unexpected

he and dan both know to wait for neil, that he doesn't like changing in front of anyone

so they wait. and wait. and wait.

it gets to the point where it's nearly 45 minutes after practice and surely neil should be done at this point, no?

wymack gets up, fully prepared to break down the door to make sure neil is okay when suddenly it slams open

neil tumbles out hand-in-hand with andrew, with matching flushed faces and ruffled hair

wymack sighs

dan outright snorts, and neil's head jerks up and his eyes widen when he notices dan and wymack

but before he can say anything, dan stands up and grins at andrew

"fucking neil again, huh?"

neil chokes on a cough and wymack turns to dan with a groan when he notices the mischievous glint in her eye, almost like that was an... inside joke?

with minyard?

wymack is very confused

andrew just scowls at dan. "i will knife you and make it look like an accident"

neil is still recovering from his coughing bout, so wymack turns back to the stabby midget ready to reprimand him

"i'm not scared of you anymore, remember andrew?" dan's eyes are still bright as she tries not to laugh

"shut up, both of you" wymack interrupts their weird jokes conversation whatever gruffly. "neil, do you remember why we're here?"

"huh? OH. oh shit. drew, i'm supposed to be talking with them about some winter banquet stuff"

andrew considers this. "how long?" wymack tells him about an hour, and andrew nods and turns to neil. "i'll stay"

neil just rolls his eyes. "you have a paper due tomorrow that you haven't even started yet. go do that, i'll be fine"

wymack sighs. he's been doing a lot of that lately. "minyard, go finish your homework or i swear to god, i'll make you run three marathons next week"

andrew glares but mutters out a "fine." he goes to leave but neil tugs him back by the wrist

neil then proceeds to kiss andrew on the nose and gives him the most bashful smile wymack has ever seen on the kid's face

neil's happy. it's a christmas miracle! and it's not even christmas yet!

and that kiss... really, it was the last thing he expected out of neil and andrew but he's happy at how comfortable they've grown around each other

and okay, it was a little adorable

(not that he'd ever say that to their faces, of course)

andrew ends up stumbling out of the court with the reddest face wymack's seen as neil turns back to him and dan

"right" he says sheepishly. "banquet?"

BONUS:

abby doesn't believe it when david tells her about the nose kiss

she knows that neil has a heart of gold, she knows that andrew has so much capacity to feel

but a nose kiss? she doesn't think andrew would agree to that

so when her older foxes come over one night after a tiring, but successful, game, she decides she needs to see this for herself

after a hearty dinner, all the kids are sitting in the living room, with andrew and neil talking quietly in the back corner of the room.

perfect.

"neil!" abby calls, and everyone in the room quiets to look at her. "sweetheart, could you help me bring out the dessert?"

nicky immediately jumps up from beside her, saying how he could help if she needed it

"no no, it's alright, i was hoping to talk to neil, if that's okay? it might take a little while"

neil looks extremely worried at this and abby almost feels guilty.

almost

he glances at andrew and then he leans down so quickly that abby nearly misses it

neil kisses andrew on the nose.

abby barely notices andrew's bright blush, nor does she register neil moving towards her

she just feels so proud of her foxes for coming so far in a world that keeps trying to beat them down

it's a sentimental moment, which is completely ruined by kevin's woop and nicky's yell of glee

"YES BITCH THEY DID IT THEY DID THE KISS GIVE ME YOUR MONEY ALLISON"

"fuck you hemmick. fuck you"

neil looks at them wildly. "you guys were betting on us? i didn't think you would..."

matt sighs and slings an arm around his friend. "oh neil, do you still really think that low of us? we bet on everything"

JSKHKKSJ OK IT'S FINALLY DONE i already miss this series but it has been a fun time :) my asks are always open if y'all have anything specific you want me to write !

[keelywolfe]

FIC: A Glitch in the Thought Process (standalone, lemon)

Summary: This, Stretch knew, was a horrible idea. But even bad ideas can have the best results.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Lemon Goodness, Fluff, Humor, First Times

Notes:  A short standalone smutty spicyhoney story for y'all, with an extra helping of bad ideas. But hey, even bad ideas can have the best results.

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

This was a horrible idea.

A horrible, awful idea. Terrible, no good, awful, dig out a thesaurus and go to town because it was so bad—

“oh!” Stretch whimpered, trying to muffle it with both his hands as Edge nuzzled at his pubic symphysis, his breath teasingly hot. A terrible idea, because his bro was downstairs, with Red and Sans and Papyrus, all of them gathered for what was supposed to be a little party. For their seven-month anniversary of meeting, according to Papyrus, and yeah, it was always fun to hang out at the Tale brothers house, movies and madness, that wasn’t a bad way to spend an evening.

Only, when the food started coming out, somehow Stretch ended up with a lapful of ‘whore devours’ as Red called them. He still wasn’t quite sure if it was the food or the plate that caused the mini-explosion, just that he was glad he only got hit by the edible part of the shrapnel.

Edge was supposedly helping him clean up, even offering to let Stretch borrow the pair of pants he kept in his inventory, and that was all. If Stretch could manage to squeeze his pelvis into the ass clamps that Edge liked to wear, anyway. Took a shimmy and a prayer, but he got them on, fly zipped and all. That should’ve been it, a couple minutes to clean out the nooks and crannies and they should’ve been back downstairs waiting to see what kind of damage dinner was gonna cause.

Only, when he finished struggling with the zipper, he’d glanced up, caught sight of Edge in the mirror and the look in Edge’s eye lights kinda took Stretch off-guard. Like glowing coals in the darkness of his sockets and when he licked his teeth, the bright crimson of his tongue against ivory pale, Stretch was already giving in, raise that white flag, captain, his self-control was calling for a surrender.

His fault, really. Probably Stretch should have thought it through a little before dropping trou right in front of Edge, all things considered. They’d been on a couple of dates now, all of them ending with lingering kisses and heavy breathing, but not much else, aside from some seriously wet dreams. Now they were in the Tale brother’s bathroom together, alone, and Edge was looking at him like he was gonna skip the appetizers and head right for the main course.

Edge was wearing dark fingerless gloves, the slender whiteness of his phalanges exposed, and he met Stretch's gaze in the mirror as he reached out with a single long finger to trace the broad curve of Stretch’s iliac crest peeking over that tight waistband, teasing the sensitive bone.

That was it, that one touch, and how that ended up with Edge on his knees in front of him, eager hands pushing his stained shirt up, Stretch didn’t know. He couldn’t think, couldn’t move, and there was a palm resting flat against his rib cage, body-warmed leather against the sleek bones there and Stretch was quivering before Edge even had those damned pants open again, his magic already forming a cock, the shaft hard and eager for whatever Edge wanted to give him.

Stretch watched as Edge leaned in, sockets closed as he breathed in deeply, mouth open as if to taste the air between them. Stupidly, Stretch blurted out, “sorry, i probably stink, there was enough garlic in those things to give dracula a migraine from two streets away.”

“I don’t care,” Edge murmured, and he leaned in again, let the tip of Stretch’s cock brush his cheek bone and leave a pale orange smear of wetness behind, holy fuck, “and you don’t. you smell like you.”

“what do i smell like?” Stretch whispered. Lavender, maybe, from the soap Blue always bought, or sweat, he’d showered that morning but that was hours ago, the bitterness of his cigarettes, the sweet taint of his own magic…?

Edge’s grin was a slash of sharp white teeth, his voice the satisfied rumble of an old tom cat lapping up a dish of fresh cream as he said, “Delicious.”

Fuck.

Hot breath was a bare touch against the delicate bones of his pubis, ticklishly gusting along with the barest scrape of his teeth as Edge whispered, "Hold still."

And Stretch had to cram a hand against his mouth, holding it there with the other as he bit down on a bony knuckle. He hadn't known what to expect, tried not to consider what it might be like. He hadn’t jerked off thinking about it, even though he’d wanted, fuck, he wanted. But he sure as fuck hadn't thought Edge would be experienced.

And he was, had to be, no fumbling touches or uncertain flicks of tongue. Edge took his shaft in deeply, swallowed him down with only the faintest graze of sharp teeth drawing out a tantalizing shiver rather than a muttered protest. Stretch bit his finger harder, muffling the throaty cry that tried to escape as Edge sucked him, cheek bones hollowing as he drew Stretch into the hot wetness of his mouth.

The hands on his pelvis shifted, fingers spreading wider and Stretch dimly realized it was to hold him down even as he unconsciously strained against them, trying to push in deeper still. With a sharp breath through his nasal cavity, Stretch managed to relax back, sagging against the wall. He nearly moaned aloud as Edge hummed his approval, the vibration rumbling through his cock and straight up his spine. Oh, all the blessed days, there were times in the past when he’d thought sex might be the end of him, but he'd never dreamed it might happen like this. Standing here with harsh fluorescent lights overhead, reflecting off the gleaming white porcelain as Edge moaned eagerly while sucking him off.

With an effort, Stretch managed to pry his sockets open, squinting down and his struggle had its reward. Crimson eye lights, half-hidden by heavy lids met his own and Stretch could not be mesmerized by that gaze. Not when confronted with the sight of Edge's mouth stretched around his dick, long, flexible tongue curled around the shaft. He stared helplessly as Edge took him down in a deep, wet suck, watched the length of his cock slide between those teeth in a deliberate rhythm.

Cool air made him wince as he was abruptly released, but the automatic protest was cut off mid-whine and Stretch watched, sockets achingly wide as Edge playfully licked at the tip, tongue dipping beneath foreskin to tease, and he could never have imagined, not in the filthiest of never-confessed dreams. Another flick of tongue, lapping at the honeyed fluid jewel beading at the tip and wetting Edge's teeth, and then he was taken again. Deep into his formed throat, the hot, lovely slickness of Edge's mouth surrounding him, the curve of his tongue against the underside and Stretch had to close his sockets, had to concentrate on muffling the sounds that were being driven out of him because he could not, could not, be heard. If the others heard, the others would come looking and if they came looking, the others would see and Edge would stop, he would, and Stretch bit his own tongue hard enough to taste the sweet blurt of his magic because he couldn't, could not stop—

The problem with keeping quiet was Stretch had no way to offer a warning, nothing past a sharp, quick inhale as he shook and trembled and toppled over the peak into the exquisite pleasure that Edge's mouth was offering him. Dimly, he felt Edge startle, and then Stretch could feel nothing but the sweet pulse of coming over that soft tongue, any guilt fluttering off on pleasure-soaked wings along with whatever was left of his dignity, and oh, by all the little heavens, he could feel Edge swallowing around him, the quick flickers of tongue against him as every thick droplet was lapped up.

If his knees were truly as weak as they felt, then the only thing keeping Stretch from sagging to the ground was the hands on his hips, holding him firmly up. Between that and the wall, Stretch managed to keep his feet, offering only a soft whimper as Edge finally released him, offering a last tender kiss before tucking Stretch’s softening cock back into his too-tight pants even as he licked his come-smeared teeth clean.

Holy flying monkey fuck, Stretch needed a cigarette. Maybe a little nicotine would slow down his scattered wits enough for him to pick them up again.

It was only when Edge looked up at him again, a sly smile curving his still-damp mouth, that Stretch managed to find words, husking them out around his bitten tongue as he admitted, "so…uh…i don’t think i can walk right now. fuck, i'm trying to remember how to breathe."

Edge's grin widened, "And yet you’re still not at a loss for words. That would have been high praise, indeed."

"only because i can talk without permission from my brain," Stretch mumbled, wetting his teeth with a nervous flick of his tongue, "might have to gag me if you want me speechless."

A rough chuckle sent a gust of warm breath to caress his pelvis where his sweatshirt was still riding up around Edge’s hands curved around his pelvis. Those hands shifted, petting gently, "I’d be happy to accept that invitation."

"invi—" Stretch began and only then realized just what he'd said, "hey, wait a min—ute!" The word was bitten off as those supporting hands abandoned him and he promptly slid down the wall, straight into the lap of the skeleton who’d been kneeling at his feet. "erm, hello?" Stretch added, inanely, and again his brain abandoned him, left him staring dumbly straight on at Edge when only a moment ago he'd been looking down.

"Hello," Edge's voice carried that simple word, just a tiny, foolish greeting into a deep rumble that sent a shiver through Stretch and honestly, was he so easy that a single word seduced him?

Yeah, he decided, as Edge's mouth covered his own in an oddly tender kiss, stealing away any other idiocy that might try to escape. Yeah, he was pretty damned seduced, by the too-hot press of Edge's faintly swollen tongue against his own, by the sweet taste of his own come carried with it, by the heavy groan that was muffled between them, the kiss shifting from tender to eager.

Stretch supposed he could forgive himself for that much. He figured most people would be seduced by any one of those things, never mind them all mixed together.

With a mouth over his own, any sounds that might bubble up and out were effectively blocked and Stretch gave into a long-held wistful urge, cupping Edge’s head in his palms, running shaky fingers over his skull as if he could read the future there.

Even if he’d been a fortune teller, the only fate that interested him just now was how the night was gonna end, and the firm shaft he could feel straining against the front of Edge’s own too-tight pants told him more than any little bumps under his fingertips.

"we…we should…" Stretch began, a touch breathlessly, struggling for words between kisses. They should go somewhere else, somewhere that every little sound couldn't be heard and known and teased about later. They could hardly manage more in a damned bathroom and—

"bro?"

From through the door and both of them froze, Stretch's scream of frustration never made it past his mind. That was certainly a voice he knew and had it been Sans or Papyrus or Blue or any other damned person sneaking in from the streets of Snowdin, he would have suggested a hasty shortcut. But this name was Wednesday’s child full of woe, ‘cause Red was not one who would give up a search, not when it came to his brother.

From the low, vicious curse Edge let out, he was thinking the same thing and he pushed Stretch hastily to his feet, the both of them fumbling to straighten their clothes. If Edge gave Stretch's crotch a quick brush off with rough fingers, then Stretch's hasty scrub of his sleeve over Edge's mouth was probably more acceptable than leaving any stray smears of honey-orange behind.

They were both more or less presentable when heavy boots gave the door a pointed kick and Stretch snapped off the overhead light, hoping that the dimness would hide anything they missed as the knob slowly turned.

"there you are," Red grunted as he shouldered through the door, "why the fuck are you two lurkin’ in the dark? trying to roll for backstabbin’?"

“think that’s more your skill tree,” Stretch said, relieved to hear he sounded mostly normal, and he really hoped Red left it at that, ‘cause the real reason they were hiding in dark corners would probably get them at least a years’ worth of ribbing. Possibly literally.

"Did you need something?" Edge asked impatiently, teeth gritted and at least his annoyance was a decent disguise.

"yeah, blue’s kickin’ up a fuss about servin’ up the main course. told ‘im i’d find ya," Red shrugged, oblivious to the smoldering heat in Edge's glare. "i'd tell ‘em yer both alive and kickin’, but they might wanna look-see themselves if ya don't come on down.”

Edge heaved a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nasal cavity with his thumb and forefinger, "Very well, tell them I—"

"oh, there's ain’t no hurry, little brother," Red interrupted. His jacket creaked as he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall. "i'll just wait for the two of ya to finish your chat and we can head back together, the three of us."

Yeaaaah, that was a knowing look, wasn't it. Stretch looked very firmly at the ground, ignoring the high heat rising in his cheek bones. He risked a glance up and found Edge and Red engaged in a very impressive, silent contest of glaring and wriggling brow bones, with Edge's fury ever hotter and Red's equally unimpressed.

A loud sigh from Edge was his only clue as to who finally triumphed, and Edge's hand was gentle at the small of Stretch’s spine as he gathered him up.

"Come on," he grumbled, casting a last angry look Red’s way. The shorter skeleton offered a sharp grin in return, gold tooth flashing, and the three of them started walking back downstairs, following the merry sound of laughter, and if Edge’s stride was a little stiff, Stretch really hoped they attributed it to those pants.

"next time, ya might wanna wait to sneak off after dinner," Red murmured, "they’ll miss ya less, just save some room for dessert.”

“Thank you ever so much for the advice," Edge ground out and if glares and sharp words could wound, Red might collapse to dust right at their feet.

“couldn't have gone back without ya, bro,” Red offered calmly. "if it’s gonna piss ya off, don’t give me a reason to come lookin’ again.”

"we won't," Stretch said, softly, and both brothers paused, eyeing him, though Red's look was considering and Edge's bordered on stricken. "i mean, we'll…be more careful. next time."

"good to hear," Red said heartily, and matched it with a slap on the ass that nearly sent Stretch sprawling and earned him a low growl from Edge. "now, let’s get back before your bro comes lookin’. brothers can get kinda protective when they ain’t sure what their bro is getting up ta.”

"You would know," Edge sniped and only got a chuckle for his spite.

A horrible idea, Stretch sighed mentally as he followed them, pasting on what he hoped was an innocent smile for his brother, or, lacking that, at least a sheepishly apologetic one. A terrible, no-good very bad idea.

Yeah. He really couldn’t wait to see what other ideas Edge came up with.

-finis-

[star-labs-intern]

Serendipity: A New Year’s Kiss harrisco fic

A/N: This is super late but it is for @heckyeahharrisco ‘s beautiful Harrisco New Year’s Kiss Anthology! Happy almost- New year! 

Summary : Harry and Cisco have a one night stand the night before NYE and then find themselves at the same New Year’s party.

Serendipity

The date was December 30th and Cisco was out at the bar, drinking. The holidays had been stressful to say the least and he deserved some proper rest and relaxation. He was hoping for someone to flirt with, so Cisco wasn't at his usual haunt tonight. He was at a place a little further across town that was usually very busy but tonight, looked like a ghost town. He looked up when a tall, lanky man of ambiguous age came to stand near Cisco.

“So...Do you come here often?" Harry Wells found himself asking, aloud. 

Cisco barked a laugh. “That line ever worked on anyone before?”

Harry chuckled and reddened a little. “Honestly haven’t used it on anyone in a while. But I’m truly curious. You don’t exactly strike me as a regular.”

Cisco nodded at the drunks asleep at the counter. “No, I am certainly not a regular.” 

“So that means, young attractive man, not at his usual neighborhood bar… looking to get into trouble tonight?”

Cisco found himself laughing for the second time. “You’re the one calling me attractive without even buying me a drink, let alone introducing yourself.” Cisco smirked at this handsome stranger. “And I’m the one looking for trouble?”

“Harry Wells. And I’d love to buy you a drink, even if you don’t tell me your name.” Harry leaned closer to the man with the beautiful curly hair, anticipating his response.

“My name’s Cisco. Cisco Ramon. And, yes, I think I’ll let you buy me a drink.” Cisco sized Harry up for a second.

“Oh, you’ll allow me to buy you a drink? How kind of you.” Harry quipped.

They decided to move to a table to talk. One thing led to another and suddenly Harry was asking Cisco to come home with him. Then, before they knew it, Harry and Cisco were two single people heading home together on a cold New Years Eve, Eve, intent on having some fun with no expectations.

Cisco always buzzed with nervous energy before moments like this and Harry could feel it radiating off of him. 

“Relax,” Harry cooed as they got out of the taxi. They stood at the bottom of the stairs that led up to Harry’s apartment. It was bitter cold but Cisco stared up at the door and then looked sheepishly back toward Harry. 

Cisco couldn’t help feeling a little bit of hesitation. Harry was an older man, a stranger, bringing Cisco into his home, after all. 

“Hey,” Harry stopped Cisco by gently grabbing him by the shoulders. “You good?” Harry asked seriously, instead of complaining about the cold or rushing Cisco inside. 

“I’m so good,” Cisco nodded, suddenly back in the moment with refreshed enthusiasm. 

Harry grinned and pulled Cisco to him, kissing him slowly. Cisco felt lightheaded.

"Let's go inside. I'm cold." Cisco complained when they parted. 

"Hmm, I think I may be able to help with that," Harry replied cheekily as they ascended the steps and disappeared into the apartment  

***

The next morning Cisco was up cooking breakfast, even though it was Harry’s home. 

Harry grinned waking up to the smell of food. “I don’t remember telling you to get out of bed,” Harry teased as he came into the kitchen. 

Cisco blushed, “Good morning! I think we both deserve some food after last night,” he deflected the flirtation but looked at Harry under low lids. 

Harry came to kiss Cisco squarely on the mouth. “You are amazing. Thank you for such a wonderful evening.” 

“I certainly enjoyed myself,” Cisco grinned and kissed Harry back before breaking away. “Now! Unless you want burned eggs to ring in the last day of the old year, I suggest you stop distracting me,” 

"Whatever you say, Cisco," Harry grinned

***

Later that day, Cisco was at home preparing for his New Years Eve party. He was going to Mercury labs with his best friend Caitlin Snow. He was going as “back up”, as moral support for Cait, who worked there, and he had to start getting ready. 

His phone vibrated and, expecting a message from Cait, Cisco opened his phone. What he found was Harry’s apparent phone number, saved under “That Hot Guy” and a new message saying “Had a blast with you. Hope to see more of you in the new year.” 

Cisco rolled his eyes and quickly texted back “You saw plenty of me last night. You’re so corny”

After hesitating for a moment, Cisco texted again, “But I also had a blast and we should def do it again soon” 

“Sounds like a plan” Harry texted back and Cisco bit his lip, thinking of another night promised with Harry. He was a little bit irritating, for lack of better word, and there were moments where Cisco kind of wanted to strangle him, but boy did they have chemistry…

With another twist and turn, Cait was picking Cisco up for the party.

“What did you end up doing last night?” Cait asked, in the car. 

“Honestly, I went out to the bar and had a one night stand,” Cisco winced as he told Cait. 

“Did you really??” Cait grinned. “Give me all the details, why didn’t you text me where you were?? What if he had been a murderer?”

Cisco laughed. “I have my pepper spray, don’t worry. I can handle myself. He was… very smart. A little older than me. Kinda sarcastic in this really annoying way.” 

Cait was looking at Cisco. “And how was it?”

Cisco rolled his eyes. “It was really nice and I had a really good time.” He said, looking out the window again and avoiding Cait’s reaction. 

“Did you get his number??” 

“Oh my god, Cait, enough of the third degree!” 

When Cisco peeked at Cait, she was still grinning from ear to ear. Cisco groaned and filled Caitlin in on the rest of the details. 

“Wow, Cisco. Good for you!” Cait complimented as they got to the party and started getting out of the car. 

“Thank you, it was fun, yes, and hopefully I will see him again, but now it’s time to enjoy this party! So please, no more Nancy Drew-ing my love life, okay?” 

Caitlin pretended to zip her lips. “Time to party,” 

Cisco smiled. “Thank you!”

***

Cisco had tried his honest to god best, to continue and forget all about Harry. 

They had been at the party a little over an hour, when Cisco spotted him. “Oh shit. I’ve gotta be fucking dreaming,” Cisco muttered to himself. 

“What are you doing?” Cait asked as Cisco was suddenly hiding behind a waiter holding a tray of appetizers. 

“Nothing,” Cisco replied, stealing a glance from behind the waiter, to see if Harry had noticed him. He was a little ways away, standing profile, speaking with some woman in a fabulous pant suit, and it didn’t seem like he had spotted Cisco yet. 

“Are you hiding from Dr. McGee? She adores you, she wants you to come work with us.” Cait asked, narrowing her eyes. 

“That’s who that is. Nope. Actually, yes, I am hiding from Tina McGee, I don’t want her to see me in this hideous tie I picked out with champagne glasses on it.” Cisco lied, poorly. 

Cait rolled her eyes but then narrowed her eyes at Harry. She was starting to put the pieces together. 

“Cisco…” 

“Listen, Cait, I think I’m gonna have to go home early, I’m getting a terrible stomach ache…” 

“Cisco, is that the man you slept with last night??” Cait whisper yelled at Cisco, pulling him out from behind the waiter with the appetizers and dragging him to the entrance. 

“What? Where would you get a crazy idea like that?” Cisco laughed, nervously this time. 

Cait looked at Cisco and blinked, waiting for him to come clean. 

Cisco pursed his lips. “Not gonna buy the stomach ache story, huh?” Cisco asked.

Cait laughed. “You’re the worst. Just go over and talk to him. Just say hi and make it not awkward, and then come find me. I’ll be mingling.”

“Fine.” Cisco grimaced. “I can’t believe I told you any of that. This is the worst New years party ever,” Cisco whispered to Cait before going off to find Harry. 

Cisco spotted his tall demeanor at the drink table. He was grabbing another glass of champagne. Cisco took a deep breath and approached Harry. 

“So… Do you come here often?” Cisco asked, mirroring Harry’s words from the night before.

Harry glanced up at Cisco. His eyes were wide. He took a swig of his champagne before he answered. 

“That line ever worked on anyone before?” Harry asked with a tight lipped smirk. They smiled at each other, in shared loaded silence for a moment.

“Did you know I was going to be here?” Cisco asked, eyes narrowing slightly. 

“Did you know I was going to be here?” Harry turned it around.

“Touché.” Cisco commented, grabbing a champagne glass and offering Harry a toast. Harry tipped his glass to clink with Cisco’s and they shared a drink.

“Well, I just wanted to say hello. Enjoy your evening.” Cisco said.

“Alright, Cisco. But I have to warn you, these things are dreadfully boring,” Harry commented. 

Cisco laughed and headed back off to find Caitlin. 

“All sorted out?” Cait asked.

“Easy, peasy,” Cisco said in reply.

“I don’t even want to know.” Cait said. 

Forty-five minutes later and Cisco was starting to get what Harry meant. This was a giant party but people kept going in and out, finding different groups to linger in, it was impossible to keep track of who you had and hadn’t met yet. All these academic types started to blend together after a while. It was honestly starting to give Cisco a headache. 

Cisco gave a sharp gasp when someone grabbed his arm, suddenly. 

“Sorry, did I scare you?” Harry’s rasp was soft in Cisco’s ear and his fingers were tight but gentle holding Cisco’s arm. Where had he even come from? 

“A little,” Cisco admitted, looking up at Harry.

“Aren’t you bored yet?” Harry asked again, soft this time leaning all the way in, to whisper in Cisco’s ear. “If you’re as bored as I am, you should meet me up on the rooftop in fifteen minutes.”

Cisco felt shivers up and down his spine, and said, “Make it ten,” 

Harry grinned and walked off. Cisco was thankful that Cait was otherwise occupied talking to a gaggle of her coworkers. 

Cisco waited four agonizing minutes before nodding at Cait and then walking off down the hallway to find Harry.

He took the elevator up to the top floor. He followed the signs for the staircase. Cisco went up a half flight of stairs and found a door which was propped ajar with a rock. On the door it said, “Roof access, CAUTION”

Cisco slipped through the door careful to keep the rock propping it open. 

He looked around, “Harry?” He whispered. 

“Over here,” 

Harry was draped in shadow, leaned against a chimney. He held open arms to Cisco.

“You’re not worried we’re gonna get stuck up here?” Cisco asked as he got slowly closer

“You saying you wouldn’t want to be stuck up here with me?” Harry teased 

Cisco laughed and then, finally, he was close enough that Harry pulled Cisco to him and they kissed, gravitating together like magnets.

***

Cisco returned to the party a little while later looking very red and with very messed up hair. 

Cait quirked her head at him when he returned. “Where have you been? You look like you’ve been in a fight.” 

Cisco gave her a small grin. “You should see the other guy,” 

Cait narrowed her eyes at Cisco. 

“You’re lucky you made it back in time for the count down.” 

Harry and Cisco made eye contact from across the room. They were each pretty happy that they had gotten to steal away for a little while. 

Cait and Cisco tried to maneuver themselves closer to where the action was happening. 

Cisco lost sight of Harry in their move. 

Suddenly they were counting down from thirty and Harry had come up right behind Cisco.

When the clock struck zero, Harry took Cisco by the arm and swung him around to face him. “Happy New Year, Cisco,” Harry whispered, and suddenly dipped Cisco low, kissing him deeply.

Cisco gasped but was thrilled by the most exciting New Years kiss he could imagine.

Harry stood them both back up and when they broke apart, he chuckled sheepishly as anyone who saw them, wolf-whistled and shouted. “I thought you were my secretary from behind! Your long hair!” Harry winked at Cisco who bit his lower lip, shaking his head at Harry’s sneakiness and terrible excuse.

Cisco touched his lips where they had kissed, only seconds before. “Honest mistake,” He said, eyes glaring daggers at Harry and Harry grinning like a lunatic. Halfway across the room Christina McGee looked a fraction more stressed out than she had already.

“Happy New Year, everyone!” Harry shouted and made off into the crowd.

Cait leaned over to whisper to Cisco. “He is something else.”

Cisco smiled and touched his lips, where Harry’s had just been. “You’re telling me.”

[atiny-ahgase]

Sweet Dreams

Author’s Note: I started this with no direction but I somehow still really like it. IDK I think it’s kinda cute. I intended for it to be more like a drabble but I don’t really think that it is...oh well. Also, I tried my best to make the reader both gender-neutral as well as to remove any words that would cause you to assume the ethnicity and race of the reader. I’m still really new to writing so if I slipped up on any of these attempts please let me know. I’m trying my best.

Side Note: This will be my first work since my 2 week-long Writer’s Block. I honestly still have it but I also really wanna write something...It’s soo frustrating.- Gabby.

Summary: Feeling overwhelmed and stress from work threatens to rid you of your sanity your only source of calm in this otherwise hectic world, Mingi, is busy at work preparing for the Ateez comeback. You don’t want to burden him but what are you to do when the breath easier beside him?

Pairing: Mingi x Gender Neutral reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Contains Fluff, Angst, Idol x Reader, Gender Neutral Reader, (Not really sure what else).

-----------------------------------------

You lightly hissed as the warm water cascaded down your aching body, engulfing your muscles with liquid bliss. Work had been the most demanding this week than it had been in a while. The workload wasn’t that much but you were already understaffed as it was and your demanding boss wasn’t helping to soothe the stress and anxiety brewing within you with all the work that still needed to be done. You needed a break but with the deadline fast approaching, no way was that going to happen.

Softly sighing you turned off the steady stream of water before grabbing your towel; relishing in the feeling of the plush fabric embracing your body. You walked out of the restroom entering your bedroom before collapsing on to your bed; the plush mattress beginning to absorb the moisture from your shower. As you sink into your mattress your mind begins to wander to your only spark of light in an otherwise seemingly dismal world; formally known as Mingi. How was he doing? You hadn’t seen or spoken to him in a while and it honestly showed in your demeanour. You were always much calmer after speaking with him. Each laughed that slipped past his lips took with it all of your worries.

You had both met at a coffee shop not too far away from your office building. After ordering your drink you scrolled through your phone waiting for your order to be called. Not long after your order was called and you approached the register extending your hand to retrieve your coffee. Unbeknownst to you, the stranger beside you seemed to be doing the same thing. Both of you appeared to be unaware until you grasped his hand over the coffee cup.

“Sorry”, you shakily replied pulling your hand away from the beverage while looking up at the man standing beside you. The warmth from your hand seemed to spread to your cheeks in a matter of seconds. You felt like you were looking up at the sun. His existence alone seemed to brighten up the drab and dull decor of the local coffee shop threatening to blind you if you looked too long. How could one person be that bright? 

A cluster of gentle curls adorned his head landing lightly across his forehead. He wore round-rimmed glasses which just drew your attention straight to his warm brown eyes, they looked so welcoming. They reminded you of the homemade toffee you would make with your grandparents, soft, sweet and warm. A small chuckle escaped his mouth directing your focus to his lips which immediately curled up into a bright smile forcing his eyes to all but disappear. The sight alone causing you to smile in response.

It was strange, the smile felt so natural to you although you’ve rarely found a reason to smile lately. The weight of the world had reshaped your once bright smile into a frown that even your greatest efforts could not mend so you decided to give up. To stop wasting your time on the happiness that somehow always seemed to evade you.

But now you where you are in a crowded cafe, smiling like an idiot at a complete stranger who didn’t even say anything remotely funny. That’s it; your boss had literally driven you to madness. That was the only sensible explanation for your unwarranted happiness.

“You can have it; I’ll just wait for the other one,” he spoke, bringing you back to reality. “Oh no I couldn’t ask you to do that,” you responded arms raising in protest.

“What kinda gentleman would I be if I let a gorgeous person like yourself wait in line?” he defends while sliding the cup over to you. Failing to keep your heart in check you can already feel your ears heating up much hotter than any coffee you’d ever consumed. Cheezy pick-up lines like that had never made you react this way before so why now?

Maybe because it didn’t feel like a pickup line, it felt more like he was just talking to you, no strange ulterior motive he was authentically being nice. Yet another interaction that you were not used to. Deciding on taking him up on his kind offer you mumbled a small “Thank you” before taking a sip of the coffee, the liquid feeling cold in comparison to the warm feeling flooding your cheeks.

“You know waiting in line is a lot more fun when you have someone to talk to”, you smiled up at him, enjoying the warm feelings you got from his interactions. You wanted to hold on to the conversation just a little while longer. With so many conflicts currently going on at work, it felt nice to have even a semi-decent conversation with someone whether it was with a stranger or not.

Somewhere along the line, that chance meeting turned into planned meetings which turned into him showing up at your apartment unannounced with snacks and now you don’t know what to do with yourself. You’ve gotten so used to seeing him that these past few days have been absolute torture. He and the rest of Ateez were working on their comeback and you know that Mingi must be just as exhausted as you if not more exhausted and you don’t want to burden him with your problems. But you miss him so much. 

Everything in your apartment reminded you of him. From the collection of hoodies that you’ve “accumulated’ in your closet to the faint smell of lavender that seemed to have remained on the cushion, he would usually sit on. They all just served as constant reminders that he was not there. A loud sigh leaves your lips as you will yourself to get dressed not wanting to be consumed by your own thoughts.

-----

Your entire evening just consisted of you dragging yourself all over your apartment in a futile attempt to be productive when in reality all you wanted to do was curl up beside Mingi on your couch; head nuzzled into his neck, hands grasping his shirt which would always smell like fresh Lavender. He’d hold you tightly as if you were the most precious person in his life, one arm around your waist drawing gentle circles while the other gently stroked your hair.

You close your eyes remembering all of the sweet nothings he would whisper in your ear and with every word you could feel the stress and anxiety leave your body and in its place would be that warm feeling that somehow always seemed to accompany you whenever Mingi was around.

His presence was like that of a storm; washing away the debris that seemed to settle on your heart, nourishing the withering roses of your soul, revitalizing the rivers that gave life to your otherwise dull eyes. His smile alone provided the single ray of light you needed to see your way through whatever you were facing, guiding you back to his warm embrace. And now that he wasn’t there you wondered how you ever walked on your own. Every step that you took felt ten times heavier because he wasn’t there beside you.

You sink further into the couch simultaneously diving deeper into your head when the blaring of your cell phone ringing forces you out of your thoughts. Not bothering to look at the caller ID you press the answer button just glad for a distraction to keep your mind occupied.

“Hello,” you answer in the best fake cheerful voice you can muster up. “Hey y/n”, you hear a sleepy Mingi grumble on the other line. His voice was a lot deeper when he was tired but even with that, you could still sense the hint of happiness that laced every word that escaped his lips. He truly was the personification of sunshine. “Sorry to be calling you this late I just really needed to hear your voice”, he continues. 

You feel a ping in your chest as you try your best to steady your breathing, his words always went straight to your heart. Mingi was always the honest type, he would never shy away from anything he had to say and even though you really loved and admired that about him; you couldn’t help but blush anytime he said things like that to you. “Will you tell me about your day?” he inquired before some faint shuffling was heard on the other end.

“I’d rather hear about yours,” you reply; not wanting to ruin his mood with your problems. “But if I do all the talking how will I get to hear your sweet voice?” he whines into the phone. You chuckle softly to yourself, imagining the way he would wave his arms in the air when he didn’t get what he wanted. You sighed before muttering a soft “You asked for it” before taking him through your entire day. You couldn’t help but give in to his every request, his childlike glee made you want to spoil him. He softly hummed listening to you recap the events of your day only speaking when he was sure that you were finished. Feeling a weight lift off your shoulders you laid on the couch, exhaustion quickly replacing the stress that once filled your body.

You always did feel the most at ease when Mingi was with you, and even though he wasn’t physically there didn’t stop your mind from melting into the calm sea that was his voice. Each word he spoke crashed on to the shores of your heart retreating only to remove the pain and frustration left there by others. The rhythm of his cascading waves sang a song straight to your soul; like a gentle lullaby, it cradled you until you were consumed with sleep. As you laid there falling deeper and deeper into a much-deserved slumber; you could faintly hear the slow and subtle breathing of the idol on the phone.

Sweet dreams Mingi.

[yulmoldauer]

its better not to say such things out loud (Tyson Jost/OC): Chapter One

part 2

Story summary: Mason Wright was recently traded and because an Av. Sometimes a fresh start with a new team across the country is what a guy needs, right? It seems to work out, going to a place where no one truly knows you. That is, until someone finds out what you’re desperately trying to hide.

Chapter 1

Summary: Mason’s had a rough game, to put it simply. It was never the best idea to get into a fight with someone bigger than you. They won even with him taking a five-minute major for fighting halfway through the third period. The team goes out to celebrate his 23rd birthday post-win and Tyson takes care of getting him home and to sleep safely.

Warnings: None, I believe! Just some drinking mentioned and there’s a drunk character if that makes you uncomfortable. There’s also a slur against lgbt people used.

Words: 1,968

Notes: The title is from The Stigma (Boys Don’t Cry) by As It Is. This is the thing with the LGBT main character that I’ve had a few different people tell me they’d be interested in :) I’m having a lot of fun writing and plotting this so far, so let me know if you enjoy!

There were perks to being smaller than most other people in the league. Being an extremely fast and skilled defenseman was one of them.

Being outmatched in every possible articulation, being compared to a chihuahua yapping at a pitbull, everything like that. Which is how he ended up in the penalty box for five fucking minutes, the asshole in the box next to him chirping him the entire time, it seemed like.

“What are you, a fag?”

That was what Mason heard fly by him, aimed at Jost who wouldn’t get into a fight to draw a penalty. Mason knew for a fact that’s what the guy was trying to do. He still took the bait when Tyson didn’t.

Mason was smaller than nearly every player he knew. Watching him get into a fight was exciting yet painful at the same time for anyone with a brain. The other guy was at least six-foot compared to the five-foot-eight Mason. To say it was outmatched…

Mason was going to be lucky if he didn’t come out of this with some scrapes and bruises. A broken nose was pretty likely as well, once he thought about it.

But hearing that word ignited something in him that overtook the reasoning section of his brain and both of them were dropping gloves. Sure, he’d definitely have a black eye tomorrow, but he’d gotten a few good licks in as well.

They still won the game, which was nice.

“Dude, you gotta at least get into it with guys in your weight class.”

“You’re funny, Landeskog. Whole fucking league is out of my weight class,” Mason huffed as he stripped his padding off of his lean torso.

“Yeah, kinda the point,” Zadorov shrugged. “Not your fault you’re smaller, just the way it is.”

“I get it, I’m short,” he ran a hand through his wavy helmet hair and reached down to unlace his skates. “Z, you can fight for me, then. I’ll run my mouth and you can do all the hitting.”

“With you? Don’t take it, man, Wright can go on and on for hours,” Tyson chirped from across the room. That earned him a glove chucked at his face.

“Fuck y’all. I don’t even have a good comeback.”

“Because it’s true!”

Okay, maybe it was true. Mason was just a talker, it’s how it was.

Tyson gave him endless shit about it, but really he didn’t mind. He actually enjoyed just being able to turn his brain off and absorb whatever stuck from what Mason was going on about. Usually it didn’t even matter--ranting about how a show got robbed of some award that doesn’t even matter, spewing information about whatever book he was reading, going off about whatever asshole did something stupid during his day-- Tyson would just let him go until he ran out of steam. Conversations were nice, too, when he was in just a talkative mood as well.

Mason did know how to shut up, though. Sometimes. (Hint: that’s what made him the favorite out of the Wright/Zadorov best friend duo. He could be quieter than Z. They’ve threatened to separate the two on multiple occasions, though.)

“What’d that guy even do to rile you up? You looked pissed,” Nate broke Mason out of his train of thought.

“Just called someone something stupid. I’m not gonna repeat it.”

“He called me a fag because I wouldn’t take the bait for the penalty,” Tyson said soon after. “He’s just a fucking moron because he got a longer penalty than any of us.”

There was an uncomfortable moment as that sunk in, then a few “what the fuck” or “that’s gross” phrases before people moved on to heading to the showers.

Mason was about to sneak away when Tyson called out his name.

“Hey, I wanted to catch you before you hit the shower. You got a second?”

“Yeah, sure. I just have to do some pt kind of stuff before I shower. What’s up?” he offered with a friendly smile.

“I just wanted to thank you for sticking up for me. You definitely didn’t have to, but calling him on it drew a ton of attention to it. I think it’s really important to start weeding that shit out of the sport, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Mason smiled. “I--thanks, man. That means a lot to me.”

“‘Course,” Tyson gave a nod. “And you know if you were, like… y’know, gay or… anything, really, I wouldn’t care. And neither would anyone else on the team. It’d totally be okay.”

Mason wanted to give him a reassuring “I know” but couldn’t. Hockey was definitely not the environment known for welcoming lgbt kids and turning them into well-adjusted, accepted adults.

“Thanks,” Mason murmured. “Really, that means a lot.”

“Of course,” Tyson breathed, like he was getting a huge weight off his chest. “Um, yeah. I’ll let you go do your physical therapy stuff now. I’ll see you at the bar after everything’s done here?”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna ditch you for my birthday, idiot.”

With an excited smile, Tyson turned and headed in the opposite direction.

Once he reached an area to chill out while waiting for the showers to clear out, Mason sighed, plopping into a chair and resting his head in his hands.

Obviously he knew why Tyson brought up starting to call out homophobia and other bigoted shit they were all used to just overlooking. But why did he bring up the whole ‘we’d accept you no matter what’ thing?

The thought of ‘he was very sensitive to a slur so maybe he’s gay’ never crossed Mason’s mind. That would simply be too easy and rational.

Did Tyson know he was different? What exactly did Tyson know? There was no way Tyson would out him, but still. Trusting people to keep a secret was hard. It was just easier to bottle everything up.

God, he needed to figure this out.

Maybe he’d get drunk enough tonight to just forget for a little while. He didn’t get drunk or even drink all that often, he could let go every now and then.

At the beginning of the night, Gabe took his keys, promising that he’d give them to whoever would be driving Mason home. They all knew for a fact Mason wouldn’t drive drunk, it wasn’t even in the realm of possibilities. Honestly, they were more worried about the newly twenty-three-year-old losing them or putting them somewhere so he’d ‘remember where they are later’, which was proven ineffective at the last gathering Gabe threw.

“If you can’t figure out where the stupid keys are, he can come get them in the morning or I can drop them off to him or something,” Gabe rolled his eyes.

“You’re sure you don’t remember where you put them?” JT triple-checked. He’d been the designated driver for a few of them, including Mason, Tyson, and a couple others who had already gotten out to the car.

Mason shook his head. “I’m not even that drunk,” he insisted.

“Uh-huh. Gabe, just let me know if you find ‘em and we can work something out for him in the morning.”

Twenty minutes later, Gabe sent a picture and “anyone know who these belong to?” in the group chat. It was, without a doubt, Mason’s keys, adorned with a keychain reading “DETROIT” in graffiti lettering. He was from Detroit, and everyone knew that he refused to take that keychain off until it literally fell off for some sentimental reason, most likely.

‘Lol where’d you find it?’ someone texted back.

‘My dishwasher. His wallet was there too’

Mason has still never heard the end of that. No matter how hard he tried to explain that when he put them somewhere, it meant that he wouldn’t lose them or buy something stupid online (last time that happened, he bought a thing to hang on a window so your cat could sit on it and sunbathe. Mason has not owned a cat at any point in his life.) and he’d remember where it was once he sobered up.

Of course he still gets relentless shit for it. He wouldn’t expect any different.

Currently, Mason and Z were arm wrestling over a table in the back of the bar, people beginning to call it quits and going home. And with his pride hurt that he could not beat Z in an arm wrestling match, Tyson stole the other’s keys and wallet from Gabe, saying goodbyes and forcing Mason to as well.

“You are blasted, man.”

“Mmph,” he shrugged and laid his head against the passenger window. “I wanna lay down and sleep.”

“You can when I get you home. Gimmie your seatbelt so I can buckle you in.”

Mason followed the order with a small pout, not drunk enough to the point of incoherence but… definitely a little fucked up. Tyson had done this before: dealing with the mopey friend at the end of the night. Mason was definitely one to get mopey or clingy once they left the main event.

“My face hurts.”

“That checks out, buddy. I’ll get you some ice for it back at your place. What?” Tyson continued to ask when Mason stared out the windshield all angsty.

“Still can’t believe I couldn’t beat Z.”

“That guy could slam most of us through a table, don’t beat yourself up.”

“Can’t. Someone already did.”

“You’re full of jokes, huh?”

Mason just grinned sleepily as they pulled into the apartment complex and Tyson had an arm wrapped around his friend to keep him steady. Getting a drunk person to go to bed was usually one of the hardest parts of the night.

“Would you just--”

“I got it,” Mason huffed, fumbling with his keys near the lock of the door.

“Dude.”

“Shut up, you’re gonna wake up my neighbors,” he grumbled, finally getting the door open with a triumphant “see? I’m an adult.”

“I see. Go be an adult and get ready to go to bed,” Tyson rolled his eyes, taking the keys out of the door and locking it behind them.

“I don’t wanna sleep,” he replied quickly.

“You’re drunk, what do you mean you don’t want to sleep?”

“Not tired,” he flopped down on the couch.

“At least get out of your clothes. That way if you fall asleep it’s in pajamas.”

Mason was sprawled out, already clicking through Netflix.

“Fine, I will go get you pajamas. Here,” Tyson pressed a cold compress to a bruise on his face and headed to the bedroom.

“Thanks for driving me,” he heard from the other room.

“‘Course,” Tyson called back. “Here, put these on,” he tossed the clothes at Mason.

“Are you staying here? You can take the guest room, if you want.”

“Sure. Probably easier than trying to get home this late,” Tyson shrugged and headed for the kitchen. As he heard the rustling around of what he assumed was his friend changing, Tyson got a glass of water and painkillers for when Mason woke up.

“I can drive you home tomorrow,” Mason slurred even more heavily as he began getting more tired. He’d managed to get his jeans off and a pair of shorts on before moving onto the shirt. He’d just pulled his shirt off when Tyson walked back in the room with the water.

“Woah,” he said quietly, stopping quickly.

For whatever reason, he’d never realized that he had never seen his teammate and friend shirtless. That was weird, especially when you played sports together for a living. He assumed it was due to the faded scars along his chest, almost in a u-shape under each pec.

He didn’t even know what kind of injury would cause that kind of surgery.

“When did you get surgery?”

Fuck was all that ran through Mason’s head.

[anatthema-art]

most of these asks for the artist ask meme ive seen in person or youve already told me about so as your friend its my duty to make you share your shame to the audience <3 /lh

🌺Is there a piece you wish you had never made?

so like, regret is a hard thing to discuss for me because a lot of the things i regret in my artist career aren’t stuff that are funny bad art or whatever, because frankly i DON’T regret that stuff. i don’t regret my warrior cats days or drawing sparkledogs or whatever because i was a kid having fun and having bad old art is part of the process. a lot of the things i truly regret in my artist life are things that brought or bring up bad feelings, so this isn’t gonna be super FUN. sure, i have a ton of shitty pieces which i’m like GOD i wish i could make those better now and GOD i wish all my NITWTM pieces were like. good jdskjkskjsa

so like, the biggest and most obvious thing is the webcomic i ran from 2015-2020 because wow. first off. i was 12 when i started that, and nearly 18 when i ended it. a 12 year old kid really could not have predicted the absolute time commitment that shit required, and i REALLY shouldnt have tried to keep going even past my limits simply because i had already sank so much time into it. when you write something as a kid you dont really anticipate the fact that youre gonna grow as a writer and artist so much in a 5 year time span that what you write and connect with when youre 12 isn’t even gonna RESEMBLE the person you are when you’re 18. i wish i had canned it earlier and honestly it was a deep source of stress in my life for so long.

then there’s the old pieces i made with my friend group from like, 8th grade. first off like?? i gave my friend group fursonas back then for some reason and like?? didnt SHOW them to them i just?? drew them?? as cats?? which yeah ok thats dumb but then i drew like a piece with twenty one pilots lyrics on it and god all that shit brings me back such a shitty time in my life man and that friend group ended in such an awful way and i just regret all of it so much. 

as an extension of that just the emo dog shit was so dumb like honestly its the one phase of my art i just kind of hate in of itself like it was really dumb like yeah i was a kid enjoying myself but just GOD it was such bad character design and building and none of my ocs had personality and they were so overly complex and its just like i think that phase actively hindered my ability to progress at making good ocs. also just. the edgy song lyric da titles man its just. like i know i go on about my warrior cats phase but honestly i have so much nostalgia from that time because i was just a kid having fun with cat books but the emo dog phase was just regret all around and it actively kinda hurt me as an artist

but yeah like. as bad as some of my old pieces are i don’t REGRET doing them. it’s all part of growth as an artist and its fun to look back on that stuff and see how youve improved. all the stuff that DOES cause regret is that shit with negative feelings attatched 

[trying-write-fanfics]

Shouji Mezo X Reader part 24 Remember

 More like friends you have a secret relationship with! As more of the class came back they started to set up a movie night. They asked Y/n to pick out a movie, but she wanted the person whose true turn chose the movie. It ended up being Mama Mia. The whole class watched Y/n and Shouji more than the movie. 

 Y/n and Shouji did separate for only a short time. But as time went on, Y/n scooted closer to the tall male and leaned against his arms. She sang along with the lyrics quietly into his bicep as the tunes played. 

 The whole class was confused. Yeah Shouji was her hero and they spent time together but why him if all people? He didn’t even seem to like the chaos of the class he was in and now he has a chaotic girl on his arm. It was a turn of events. The only one truly relieved of this PDA was Urakaka. It was nice knowing that Y/n’s eyes were on someone that wasn’t on a certain student. 

The movie finished and the lights were flicked back on. Y/n was leaning against Shouji’s arms asleep. It was honestly a stressful day for everyone, a dark room, some body heat, some show tunes, perfect setting to drift into dreamland.

“She’s drooling.” Sero pointed at the duo.

“That’s actually kinda cute.” Tsu said.

“It’s disgusting.” Bakugo said. “Get a room.”

“Don’t, you two shouldn’t be left in a room together alone.” Iida whispered harshly trying not to wake up the girl. 

“It’s like a beauty and the beast vibe but Y/n is definitely the beast.” Mina said in a playful tone. 

 Shouji hated all this attention. He couldn’t think of the right or wrong way to respond, it all seemed like they were gonna tease him for something. 

“You’re all being loud.” Tokoyami said, defending his friend.

“Yeah, you’re not even talking about the cinematic masterpiece mama Mia is.” Y/n yawned, trying to remove herself from Shouji, but letting herself lean back into his arms.

“Hey if you’re awake why are you still here?” Bakugo yelled. 

 Y/n’s sleepy face when into a sharp expression, hungry for blood ready for battle. No one should rush a sleeping beauty barely awake!

“Like here, butts that go.” She said changing Bakugo’s nickname. She grabbed a throw pillow. “I’m gonna suffocate you!” She tackled him to the floor 

“Get off of me!” He hit the pillow back into her face.

Shouji knew exactly what Y/n was doing, changing the topic. He was glad they had a silent form of communication looking out for one another.

“You’re not supposed to sleep here nor fight-“ Iida tried pulling the girl off Bakugo. In that moment both students got to see a better look at the bandage on her neck that her hair had been covering earlier. “Did you use your quirk?”

Y/n’s eyes went straight to Momo.

“I thought we all had figured out that Dallas my old colleague stabbed me and that’s why he’s in jail. Are none of you loud mouths? You keep secrets to the grave?” Y/n asked the class, but mainly Momo.”None of you goody two shoes start rumors?”

“I didn’t want to draw my own conclusions without asking. You were kinda silent about the topic.” Momo answered.

“I did get sliced by someone I assumed was my friend.”Y/n explained to the class.

“Weak ass!” Bakugo laughed. 

Y/n poked his eyes in retaliation. Iida began telling Bakugo that he shouldn’t make fun of people who just went through traumatic experiences, that’s not very heroic. The class all focused on Bakugo telling him what was wrong with him, but it was all part of a plan. Y/n and Shouji snuck off to his room.

“Not even a king size mattress with the money you save from owning nothing.” Y/n said laying on the floor.

“Well I’m not gonna live here forever.” Shouji told her. “How long were you planning on using Bakugo as a distraction to get me alone?”

“Ever since Iida pointed out my neck. I told you guys I didn’t wanna talk about it. I feel like it’s hard for some of you to understand I don’t hate Dallas even though he tried to kill me.”

“I’m at a loss with your reasoning too.” Shouji admitted.

“Yeah, but are you gonna bug me about it.” She asked him.

“No.” He ruffled her hair.

“Thank you.” She told him. “I’m not sure if everything in this world is supposed to make sense, things just happen sometimes without a reason.” Y/n said. 

“Is that gonna be your life motto?” He asked her.

“No it’s ‘You sorely underestimated my power of tik tok knowledge’” she said dramatically striking a pose. “Hey turn around.” She told him.

 “Why?” He asked, turning his sitting body towards the wall.

 “Okay, guess what this is.” She told him as her finger traced along his back like he was a canvas and her finger was a pen. 

It was gentle. 

“Was that a frog?” He asked.

“Yeah, okay...now…” she said aimlessly as she drew another scribble on his back in invisible ink from her finger.

The media Shouji consumed did not really involve romance and when it did, it wasn’t whatever she was doing. It was big explosions of declarations of love. But this was the same. She was eagerly touching him, enjoying his company, and making a game out of nothing. Butterflies was what he felt.

“An octopus?”

“No, it was a spider.” She told him. She wrapped her arms around Shouji’s neck from behind. “I know you guys want me to tell you everything, everything. You included. I just know you guys are gonna either pity me or think I’m stupid, and I really enjoy what we have going on right now...but I promise I’ll tell you everything later, I just really like these casual little hangouts we have.” Y/n explained moving her hands all around his shoulders.

“I’ll do my best not judge you. I’m sure you had your reasons.” He told her.

“Well you’re not getting anything tonight, only the knowledge that I am just as mysterious as your mask!” She declared to the ceiling.

“Are you suggesting you’ll tell me about your past if I show you my face.”

 Her total dramatic act crumbled as she got embarrassed.

“Oh my god no, I’m sure it’s a big deal for you, I don’t wanna pressure you into anything you don’t want to do. I just wanted to be cool like you.” She waved her hands trying to deflect the notion.

“Well…” Shouji said getting up. “I do think you’re very cool.

Y/n covered her cheeks. 

“God Shouji you’re such a romantic! I’m gonna get a fat head and break my neck!” She told him. 

They weren’t the most romantic couple but the little gestures made them feel like full passionate blows to them. They’re young and inexperienced. Y/n left quietly, now knowing her way back to her dorm by heart. Oh her chest was beating so hard like her heart would split her open and all her guts would spew out. Y/n closed her eyes as she went to bed. 

 “FUCK!” She yelled, grabbing her neck as she remembered she was sliced today. 

 There may be distractions but there are no escape routes for feelings you have to face. She can only ignore her problems for so long.

[bad-at-bullet-journaling]

Habit Tracking:

So when I first started looking at ideas for pages to use in my bullet journal, I sort of dismissed the idea of a habit tracker. Partly because the idea of “tracking habits” seemed weird and abstract to me in a way that didn’t sound helpful, and partly because of what some of the habit trackers you look up online look like:

[Image Source: @seras.bullet.journal]

[Image Source: @bountifulcolours}

[Image Source: @knitashajanice]

These are all cute, to be sure, but to my probablyADHD brain, they seemed both tedious to set up and not specific enough to actualy be hepful (save the last one, it looks very specific, just tricky/time consuming to draw out).

However, acting like a functional adult human being is hard, and other things I’ve been trying to use to help me remember to do things (dry erase routine list on the fridge, phone alarms, etc.) weren’t very helpful. Then, this habit tracker caught my eye:

[Image Source: @ohayobento]

Yeeesssss. Look at that. So simple, so easy to set up, a crisp, clear visual way to make sure you’re doing the things you need to do. It’s like a sticker chart, but in your bullet journal so you can carry it with you anywhere. What could be better? This month I buckled down to try it, and this is what I’ve got so far:

So as you can see, my tracker is a bit haphazard. I started it on the 12th of this month, so there’s a big blank gap that I made look worse by putting an x there, I drew the lines without any ruler so they’re a bit wobbly, and I think my flair pens are a little two wide tipped to draw the numbers on the dates small enough, but I still really like using it.

Some of the things I track aren’t the things you necessarily see on instagram, but I sincerely do need the reminder to do things like brush my teeth every day and wash my face, and since starting this, I’ve been SO much better at that aspect of self care. Other things I track help me make sure I’m prepared for the next day, got everything I needed to do on THIS day finished, and keep me from neglecting projects that I’ve started (BABJ stands for this blog, Bad at Bullet Journaling, I don’t want to start this and then drop it after only a few days, as I’m known to do sometimes XD) 

Some trackers have more elaborate methods of marking off a day, but I stuck to the simple dots for when I do a task, and an X for when that tast doesn’t get done. My goal is to never have more than one X per day, which hasn’t broken yet, but we’ll see how the rest of the month goes. Every day gets a different color, and while right now I’m just kinda going random, for next month I think I’m gonna go for a rainbow gradient, or maybe shades of purple in the pattern  of the ace flag (any month can be pride month with the right colored pens) ((also I forgot to write “February” anywhere on the spread, so I drew a heart in the blank space next to goals. It counts! XD)). 

One thing I quickly realized this month is that I have even more stuff I want to track that I was concerned about fitting on one page in landscape view, so I drafted out next month’s tracker to take up two pages to give myself more room. This granted me some extra space in the margins, so I also added a goal section so that I would be reminded every day of what I want to work towards in the coming weeks. You can also see I used a ruler for these lines and color coded the habits by category; pink for hygeine, pale purple for other self care, dark purple for planning, and blue for chores. 

I recently Marie Kondo’d my way through all the rooms in our apartment, getting them all truly clean and organized looking at the same time for the first time since we moved in (this past June), and one of the things keeping this spread has been helping me with is keeping the rooms that clean; “clear living room” means put the remotes away in their proper place at the end of the night and take any dishes to the kitchen, “clear office” means putting away my strewn about office and art supplies, work laptop, and anything else I may have put on my desk, as well as, again, taking any dirty dishes away. Doing at least 5 dishes a day helps keep the volume down, plus once I start with the thought of “I’ll do at least five of them” I typically end up doing much more. 

For me, doing these tasks simply because they need doing is not enough motivation, and it can be easy to fall back into having messy rooms, but knowing that if I do them I can put a dot down on my chart, they suddenly become much simpler tasks, because there’s a clear goal and reward in sight. For anyone else who needs that extra bit of external motivation to get tasks done, I highly recommend a method like this. Sometimes I get apathetic towards my daily to do list, but when “complete the daily to do list” is a bullet on the chart, I’m far less likely to put them off for the ever elusive time of “later.” 

If you’re feeling particularly inspired to make a more elaborately designed tracker like the first few pictures from instagram, they definitely lok fun, and they can obviously be customized to track whatever you need. But if you’re like me and want to track several, more specific things in more minute detail, I’d suggest just the simple lines and dots. I’ll let you guys know at the end of the month my ‘stats’ with the tracker, which is honestly just one more thing that will help me stay motivated, but if you guys are doing similar trackers I’d love for you to check in at the end of the month too, we can all be like, accountability partners as it were! What sort of things do you/would you track with a system like this?

[bmpmp3]

watch out it’s time for a review nobody asked for for whatever game i just beat but this time it’s the time travel edition, this post is a period piece: I beat FFXV!!! I bought a used copy with my PS4 all the way back in like 2017, the royal upgrade wouldn’t be out for a long while, the prompto dlc was out and I think the gladiolus dlc was on the horizon, thats the time in which i began playing this video game and thats the time i had been suspended in for the past three years, so i need you to understand thats the context of which I beat this game 20 minutes ago and thats why everything im about to say is probably gonna sound like rehashed criticisms from when it launched so im gonna need you to pretend its 2017 for me please dbkjasdfhbjsKDFJKDSANa ANYWAY spoilers for ffxv under the cut

it was alright lol

when i first got it i really adored it and it was so much fun and i played for Many Many Hours dsjhsfdjs I think the thing that drew me in, of all things, was the warp mechanic? I liked the combat even tho magic sucks so bad and while the summons are funny how they work (damn bro u suck so bad at this game the gods themselves needs to come help you out.....) its a shame the whole combat system feels a little shallow, like maybe if there were more skills or links or summons or hell more button combos,.... i dunno, i still adore the warp mechanic so much its so good i wish more games had things like it, it might also be one of the first modern open world games ive ever played?? wait holy shit......ffxv is the first modern open world game ive ever played................

anyway i knew going in the plot was one of the more criticized aspects and like yeah.....its borderline incomprehensible, too much important and relevant stuff happens in dlc i dont own and never played (i’ll probably check out some walkthroughs of em later tho), THE PACING oh baby the pacing

so like when i played it i played many hours and then i got to the endgame section where it gets really linear (i hear they changed stuff in the royal upgrade so its less so tho) i just stopped playing for three entire years until like a month ago hjkdsjfskfdsa its not that i dislike linearity!!! i actually love linearity, honestly i prefer it, like, the entire reason i stopped playing this game for three whole ass years was cause i burnt myself out on open world nonsense kdsjkfansjd modern open world games are mildly dangerous for me.. especially recently where the standout games ive played this year for me have been drakengard which was an evil video game yes but it was also very arcade-y and stage based design wise and genuinely i think thats underappreciated and has a lot of potential, and also flower sun and rain which is a chapter based point and click adventure game with sidequests but primarily linear, i dunno im always a slut for linearity

i dont remember what i was typing and unfortunately i dont know how to read so reading what i just wrote is out of the question but anyway i just kinda stopped at the part where shit goes down Very Suddenly and like all the plot is crammed in those last few chapters until like this month when i picked it back up again hrjfekdska and man i remember people telling me some of those later chapters suck ass and like......yeah......................OKAY IT WASNT THAT BAD.... i didnt mind most of it!!! but chapter 13 (noctis route, havent played the other one).... there was so many cool ideas being brought up and i liked the tone shift into a straight up psychological horror game BUT first of all this game needs to stop trying to get me to do stealth im not gonna do stealth if i wanted to do stealth id play a game with mechanics that lend itself well to that style of play and not ffxv

ffxv stop trying to make stealth happen its not going to happen

and SECOND of all they TOOK....AWAY....MY WARP......................MY WARP........................................................................................

some crimes can never be forgiven

jdlkfdsafs genuinely tho like it made me realize the warp is truly what makes this game fun for me, which is why im hesitant to play the dlc chapters myself and am probably gonna opt for a walkthrough instead, if i cant warp whats the point!!! let me zoom across the map bitch!!!!! what do you mean i have to run towards these enemies instead of slapping triangle at them... bicth im gonna kill you

there were lots of cool ideas and interesting story beats that maybe could have been good if they had been paced out better and not locked away behind unreleased dlc idfjkjlsjfks man and some of the late game environments are so COOL whadda hell....i do love the industrial fantasy vibe, maybe someday i should finally play ff7, yakuza like a dragon reminded me that maybe i do like turn based combat sometimes so i’ll try it out~

wait i got sidetracked anyway poor lunafreya, man...... like i love noctis and the boys so much but girl you can do better than him............girl he only has eyes for fishing trips with the boys... get u a man thats on ur level..... although i think this is a problem with a lot of stories where a love interest is absent for most of the story (and in lunafreyas case, dies two thirds of the way in jwhdksafsmnfdkms) all while the main character is hanging out with their pals, we end up spending all this time seeing the chemistry with the pals up close and personal all while noctis’s and luna’s relationship is told to us through prerendered flashbacks and also occasionally a notebook....give us a gf that can hang out with us video games....video games we need to hang out with out gfs

oh mild spoilers for a different jrpg Radiant historia, but i think the sorta romance between raynie and stock works really well just cause like shes with us!!! shes hanging out with us!!!!!!!! let us hang out with out gfs......

when i was younger and i first started playing it i was hoping the story would focus more on how fucked up it is that like gladiolus and ignis were like raised to be retainers............like imagine ur 2 and theyre like yo this baby? ur gonna advise him.....imagine ur like 3 and theyre like you gotta protect this baby with ur life..........................i dunno i think there coulda been some interesting interpersonal conflict over how theyre all still friends who love eachother but like the situation theyve all been raised in is NUTS.... i dunno they probably explained it away in the game lore somewhere i dunno i cant read fdssdfssfadsdsafsd i guess one of the biggest problems with the writing is honestly how messy all the themes get, like the game ur playing at the beginning is low key an entirely different story and it shows qwq i could not tell you what the thematic takeaway was by the end gomenasai

it does suck how fragmented and convoluted getting the story of this video game is, and this is coming from a fan of kingdom hearts.... like theres the game and the movie and also one chapter of the game with two routes and also all these dlc episodes and theres like that pixel game about nocts dad and there was the story in the demo and theres probably more i dont know about and like its one thing to have a multimedia project with lots of supplemental material but each thing needs to be fairly standalone yknow? like love live doesnt make you play the mobile game to understand the mangas jkfdsjdsfdasdf i dunno it was just too much and too fragmented in far too complex of a way for me (again, a kingdom hearts fan) to follow qwq

oh heres another compliment for the game tho, the photo mechanic? fantastic like more games should have auto photos that you get to look through, its so cute and fun, plus even tho the plot and pacing was a bit of a mess and some of the character development was incomprehensible i still cried at the end when noctis picks one of promptos photos to keep with him, and then in the credits when it shows you a bunch of photos you saved in order....i knew it was coming but it was so cute and good.....

oh also like.....two credits....two after credits scenes.......maybe more....imagine

oh man also it was getting a little rough after prompto disappeared so to kinda keep my spirits up and continue through the game without getting bored i played the rest of the game in the dorky chocobo festival outfit and lemme tell ya.....it adds a lot, 10/10, would recommend wearing it to the endgame, since the costumes show up in the cutscenes after the timeskip i was still wearing it and the shot of seeing grizzly 30 year old noctis with that stupid little hat.......i laughed so hard my dad came to check on me sfhkjdajfsldvfds i wasnt ready for it.....................

all in all ffxv as it stands without the royal upgrade or any dlcs is a decent, good but not fantastic game with some writing problems and some hit or miss gameplay mechanics but is still very fun (until they take your warp ability away) and has a lot of cool ideas and i liked it~

oh shit i just remembered a friend told me back in highschool (when i started the game) that the car gets flying abilities at one point......i never saw it fly.....ive been CONNED...IVE BEEN SWINDLEDwait i just googled it it was a side thing i never did lol i was hoping it would just randomly happen and i could fly my car to go kill ardyn tho........

edit: WAIT sorry i just remembered i had more things to say but also i need to sleep so they might be incomprehensible

- the fishing minigame slapped but only if you had the dlc that makes you never lose your tackle

- i know promptos like a clone or something but because of one of the early dungeons, the icy one, where that creature keeps stealing prompto cause she thinks hes her baby i thought it was leading up to a reveal that prompto was literally the kidnapped child of the boss of this dungeon hfskjdlfddsfdds

-i love most of the timeskip designs but prompto needs to shave that little beard off right this moment

- the timeskip was so fucked up imagine ur 20 and u wake up and ur 30 and then you die.......

-oddly enough i was weirdly fine with the fantasy audi and the fantasy vivian westwood and the fantasy cup noodles but the thing that did kinda throw me for a loop was at one point when i think ignis references the shining like all work and no play makes me a dull boy...... i cant stop thinking about fantasy steven king and fantasy kubrick

- playing as 30 year old noct tho, it did remind me of how nice yakuza 7 was with playing as 40 year olds....more jrpgs should let me be a grown man i like being a grown man it just feels nice

edit again: just woke up here’s some more things i wanna say

- i think another reason the last section of the game is a little meh is cause its all set at night or in dark areas and man.,....this game is Bad with dark areas lkfdsjds like i put the brightness as high as i can put it, i even adjust my tvs brightness and i STILL cant see SHIT!!!! bro turn the lights on.... basically never played at night unless the game made me cause it was so bad jfjskds plus there were so many cool environments like i mentioned before, but i cant see them qAq

- are rewrites a thing outside of warrior cats? like yknow when people write fanfic that are just like rewrites of the original property but like fixed lol i havent read one since i was like 10 and reading drawn to life rewrites (im sorry but the plot twist is bad) but i also havent really looked, i think ffxv could do well with some fan rewrites

[ddaenggtan]

from eden | myg + jhs

you've been in the dark a long time, overworked and exhausted. the only bright point is your gatekeeper, hoseok, your closest friend and the man you love but can't have. you've accepted that loneliness is inevitable for you. when a voice calls to you, though, and moves you so deeply that you rip open the earth to help them, you meet a mint-haired boy that changes everything you thought you knew about your prison. | monsters and gods pt 1 (masterlist)

pairing | yoongi x reader x hoseok

genre/warnings | greek god au, hades!reader, thanatos!hoseok, persephone!yoongi, fluff, angst, smut, mild depictions of violence, mentions of blood (well, blood equivalent, bc gods), pining, depictions of abusive parenting, v v brief panic attack (seriously, I don’t go into a ton of detail, but it’s enough, pls don’t read this if that triggers you at all), love triangle (kind of), polyamory, , mutual masturbation, oral (female receiving), face-sitting, fingering, dick-riding, double penetration, unprotected sex (gods can't get sti's but u can! Wrap it b4 u tap it!), creampie, everyone hates Zeus but what's new, demeter sucks and is the literal worst

word count | 15.6k | cross posted to ao3  monsters and gods masterlis

a/n | hello! i’ve renamed this fic at least ten times, but it’s here!! the first part of monsters and gods!!! i keep seeing hades!yoongi (who i LOVE, don’t get me wrong, seriously you should check out @/seokoloqy’s hades yoongi fics because they’re PHENOM) and while I love hades yoongs, I also keep seeing him in flower crowns and being soft and sweet and, as we know by now, I am ultimately a slut for soft bangtan. so this happened. and then i thought ‘wow this mc is dark af i need some contrast here’ and that’s how thanatos hobi happened, also i couldn’t stop thinking of his Judgement Face, which is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and how fast he switches between that and his smile, plus.....sope, I mean. c’mon. sope. and then it all kinda spiraled into a whole series of fics, only one other of which is even started tho its close to being finished whoops lmao so yeah!!!! pls tell me what u think, i’m not used to writing angst at all, so it may not be suuuuuuper prevalent in this, but i tried!!! also i really recommend listening to hozier while you read it bc i had his first album on repeat while writing it and from eden fits this pretty well imo!!!

It's dark when you open your eyes. You've spent so long down here, you're used to it, but the shadows always seem to make the air colder than it should be. Though you suppose the land of the dead isn't supposed to be warm.

You stretch and wince at the crick in your spine. Another night sitting at your desk, greek fire burning through the hours so that you can scratch away at the papers in front of you. Your siblings always enjoy doing whatever they want, using mortals and throwing them away however they please, cleaning up after each other whenever they can spare the time.

No one ever seems to think about you, nor do they remember the chaos up top only worsens your constant migraines.

No, instead they start their wars and slaughter their enemies and are absolutely oblivious about the fact that the Meadow is at 80% capacity as it is, with more souls arriving each day. Thanatos did well at his job, as did Charon, and you were always sure to be thankful to them, but you wish, not for the first time, that there was someone - anyone - to help with your work.

Your brothers have the naiads, the winds, and the lesser gods to help them with their oceans and skies. Gods of vengeance and retribution help with war, while the fertility goddesses and the muses aid the lovelorn.

And yet here you are, still alone after all these years. Millenia, you've been stuck down here, forced to live out your days in the cold darkness and manage the dead mortals. You've always been introverted, even before you drew lots with your siblings, but never like this. You've tried to leave, of course; at first making short visits to Olympus or the mortal realm, just to speak to another living soul again, someone else who understands what it's like to be trapped in your own life. It seems like every time you came back, though, the underworld had gotten smaller and smaller, nearly suffocating you in an attempt to keep its claws in your skin. And then, of course, came the curse.

You haven't felt the sun on your skin in nearly a thousand years, and while you've always been one for the shade, you miss it. You miss the smell of the flowers in the temples, you miss the sound of the river as it babbles past, you want to feel the warm summer breeze ruffle your hair as you stand in the middle of a marketplace. You're tired of the Fields, you're bored of walking the streets of Elysium with the weight of their stares at your back, sick of standing at the steps to the Isles and wondering if it is, truly, euphoric and if any mortal would ever find out. You don't wear your sandals around the palace anymore; you don't want to hear the footsteps echo. It's just a reminder that you are, truly, alone.

Even the other deities in the Underworld have stopped calling on you. The aura that surrounds you is enough to wilt most any plant, unnerve most every animal, and the gods are no exception. The only exceptions are Hecate, who makes it her personal mission to bribe you into visiting the Meadow if only for a moment, and Thanatos when he can slip away for longer than a moment to distract you from your work. They rarely succeed, but it's the thought that counts, you suppose.

You muse on this as you walk, bare feet skimming lightly over the soil of the Meadow as you make your way to the Gates. You could probably just shadow-walk, if you wanted, you do enjoy giving your Thanatos a fright, but you figure the walk would do you good. There’s no one to bother you as go, thankfully. The dead wander aimlessly around you. There's no acknowledgment as you pass; there's never any recognition of anything in the Meadow, the price mortals pay for being so utterly inconsequential and mundane.

You smile when you see that your friend is busy, and you give a silent command to Cerberus not to alert the man to your presence. The dog whines a little, but sits back on his haunches, shaking the ground as he does so. You're silent as you move up behind the judge.

"You wanted me to tell you my judgment and I have," Hoseok says firmly. "You could have gone straight to the Asphodel Meadow and existed in relative peace for eternity, and instead you request a hearing, and then have the gall to question my decision?" You grimace slightly; perhaps putting Hoseok in charge of judging the souls was not the best idea, but he has yet to be wrong about someone.

"Please, sir," The mortal whimpers. He's on his knees, suit crumpled and dirty where he sits. "I was only doing what I thought was best, please, surely that matters."

"You used children!" Hoseok says in shock. "As slaves! It's 2019 and you had nearly a hundred seven-year-olds sewing clothes together in a cramped warehouse with one bathroom. You seriously expect me to give you leniency because you thought that was best?"

"Their families would have starved without that money," The mortal says. He's on the verge of tears, which has always made you uncomfortable, so you stay hidden for now. "I kept them all fed and safe, didn't I? What would they have done without me? Gone to work in some factory, with dangerous machines and cruel managers, whipped every time they needed to eat?"

"You used children as nearly free labor, barely allowed them time to piss, fed them once every twelve hours, and you expect that to be okay because they could’ve had it worse," Hoseok says. Disgust drips from his voice and you’re inclined to agree with the sentiment. "I respect your opinion, but you are to be punished for your deeds fittingly." Hoseok snaps and two of the Bones come over. These two are in desert camo, one barely tall enough to be an adult judging by the skeletal build, but their grip is unforgiving as they cart the mortal off to the Fields. You don’t even need to mold together a punishment for him; the warehouse you sent others who’d done the same wasn’t quite crowded enough yet.

"Well, that was fun," You call, and delight at the way Hoseok jumps nearly a foot in the air. He glares at you as he turns and you don't bother to hide the smirk on your face. "Child slavery, huh? In this day and age?"

Hoseok tsks. "I know we used to allow some crazy shit back in the old days, but you'd think that people would know better by now. Using children like that, kids…” He trails off, still fuming, and you nod.

“I know.” You pull a piece of lint off his suit with a wrinkle of your nose. “You made the right decision if it helps.”

“I know I did,” He says with a smirk. “I always do.” You roll your eyes and turn away from him, watching the lines of souls head through the gates to their eternal blandness. It's the best way to hide the flush he brings to your cheeks. “What brings you out here, though? Aren’t you supposed to be doing something important?”

“Don’t I wish,” You mutter. “All I’ve got to do is figure out how to expand the realm again without Zeus’ approval.”

“Wait, he didn’t approve the expansion?” You shake your head and step closer to where Cerberus is laying, all three heads focused entirely on you as you rub his middle nose. “Where does he think we’re going to put all of the souls, up your ass?”

“Clearly,” You spit.

“I know it’s not exactly great down here and that they would all rather be thrown into the Pit than visit, but they need to sometimes. If only to see what it’s like. I mean, honestly, what do they expect us to do, just toss everyone in the Meadow and call it a day until there are so many that they’re tripping into Elysium? What the f-”

“Thanatos,” You say quietly, and Hoseok stops. It’s not often that you call him by his title rather than his name, preferring the familiarity of his friendship over the detachment of your positions. “Even here, the gods have ears. You know better than to criticize them like that.”

He huffs but nods his head. You press a kiss to Cerb’s middle nose and coo at him until he starts wagging his tail. When you turn back around, Hoseok is stumbling to keep his balance on the shaking ground. You laugh, which he does not appreciate, but before he can say anything in his defense, another soul is escorted to him by a Bones. The guy is already pleading with Hoseok, who’s returned to the stony mask he usually wears. The silver aura that surrounds him always brings you comfort, reminding you of the moonlight that bathes the surface world, but it has turned colder and is as deadly as mercury. You envy the way he can switch back and forth between his professional mask and the bright, loving man you know; if only it were that easy for you. Without so much as a wave, you weave the shadows around you once more, ignoring the soul's cries to you for mercy, and let yourself disappear into the darkness.

When you emerge from the shadows, you settle at the base of your garden tree. The only living thing that would grow down here, the sole reminder of the world above. Its branches show that it should be close to the harvest soon, maybe a month away at the most. You reach up, weaving through the darkness to pluck a pomegranate from the tree. You don't even like pomegranates anymore, you think as you inspect it. Ripe, juicy, and utterly disgusting; the gods' idea of a joke. The thing that brought about your isolation, your solitude, yet it continues to be the only thing that grows in this wasteland.

You laugh bitterly before tossing the fruit up in the air, letting it fly through the shadows to land beside Hoseok, whatever he's doing. He always appreciates your little gifts, the only real thing you can do to show that you aren't cross with him and are glad for the work he does. He's long been stuck here with you, but the fruit doesn't turn to bile on his tongue the way it does yours. Perhaps the willingness he had that first time made a difference.

Please.

You glance around, looking for the voice that suddenly echoes around you. It's soft, a memory of a whisper. It's not rare for you to hear the voices of the dead in your realm, but this is different. This one strikes you to your core, for this…

This one sounds hopeful.

The prayers that make their way to you are never hopeful. They are sad or angry or scared, always filled with tears and regret and more than a little hesitancy, but never do they have any shred of hope in them.

You stand, eyes narrowed as you look through the darkness for whatever soul may be calling to you.

Please. I don't want to go back. Don't let her take me.

Without thinking, you reach into the shadows. The blackness swirls around your fingers, unsure where you're trying to go. You don't know yourself, and you wish you did. You aren't sure why you're doing this; you rarely answer prayers, least of all the ones that don't mention you specifically, but something in this voice calls to you. It resonates in your chest, shakes your very being because you remember that feeling. You remember the way it felt to be free, standing in the sun and clawing at the earth as Gaia dragged you back down to your post, tears mixing with the dirt as you pleaded, begged her not to take you back down there.

With a jerk, you pull the shadows apart, and the ground quakes above you. You watch, anxiety pooling in your gut, and it's only the intensity of your focus that lets you see it: a figure, falling limply through the earth that you've opened. The string of curses you let out would make even Ares blush, and it's with a rush you haven't felt in millennia that you weave the shadows together into a net and toss it upwards. The figure falls into it with ease, shadows wrapping around the body to glide gently downwards until they can deposit the person with ease at the roots of your tree.

Your breath catches in your throat as the darkness recedes, revealing soft mint hair with flowers woven into it, pale green robes that are sliced nearly in half at the back and caked with mud. The man is beautiful and soft and bright, every inch the antithesis to your own black and grey clothes. You hesitate to even look at him, too afraid of dulling that sun-kissed skin with the death you carry on your fingertips.

His brow furrows and he winces, though his eyes remain closed. You blink owlishly before guiding the shadows around him once more; when you're sure he's secure, you pull him along behind you until you reach the only spare room you have in the palace. You situate him on the bed there, fluffing pillows and smoothing blankets until you can almost pretend he fell asleep there of his own accord. With pursed lips, you assign three of your Bones to watch him; one just inside the door and two outside of it, just in case whatever he was running from attempts to come for him.

You don't want to leave him, but you have work to do, and the land of the dead cannot rule itself.

It's dark when he opens his eyes. There is Greek fire in the corner, and shadows dancing on the walls around it, but he cannot make out much else. When he sits up and slides his feet off what feels like a bed, he hisses. The marble is cold and unforgiving against the bare skin of his feet and he doesn't know of any feeling like it. He's too accustomed to the dirt and grass from his mother's domain, and even the white marble of Olympus was warm to the touch. This is different. Alarming. New.

He eventually works up the nerve to stand fully. Looking around, he doesn't see any kind of light sources other than the brazier in the corner, so he grips one of the coals in his palm and uses that bit of light to find the door. The fire tingles against his skin, but he's long since grown used to holding fire in his palms for his mother. The warmth is comforting for a brief moment before the image of his mother flashes through his mind. He flinches at the memory of her face, twisted with wrath, and the stone drops out of his grip before he can catch it.

The marble of the wall is cool against his back as he slides to the ground, knees brought up to his chest and his eyes screwed shut against the darkness. There's a vice around his chest and he can't breathe and he can't see and he doesn't have any idea where he is or if he's even alive or if she's stuffed him somewhere he'll never be able to escape and the thought makes his head spin as the air catches in his throat and gods don't even truly need to breathe and yet he can feel the cold claws of death tighten around his throat and all he can see in his final moments is the horrifying face of his mother's anger and he can feel the vines and roots around his ankles once more and-

"Who the hell are you?"

He looks up, pushing the sweat-covered hair out of his eyes. There's a man, in the darkness, who exudes a faint silver light around him that illuminates the walls and black marble floor. The man doesn't seem angry that he's there, or even all that surprised; just curiously resigned. There are so many questions on the tip of his tongue, so much he wants - needs - to know but only one makes it past the rock lodged in his windpipe.

"Am I dead?"

The man frowns and shakes his head. "I seriously doubt it, since you didn't cross the river." The man looks him over, taking in the flushed skin and sweat beads and the purple robes he donned the moment he decided to run and seems to decide something. He crouches down so he's eye level, poised on the balls of his feet with his elbows on his knees, and even in a full suit, he looks impeccably put-together. "I'm Thanatos. You can call me Hoseok. If you'll let me, I'd like to take you to someone who probably has a better idea of what you're doing here." All he can do is nod, and Hoseok extends a hand, which he uses to bring himself to a shaky stand.

"I'm Yoongi," He says, hesitant and quiet. "Um, I'm Kore. Or, Persephone. Either one."

"I think I'll stick with Yoongi," Hoseok says. His smile lights the hallway that Yoongi stands in, and it eases something inside him, though he isn't sure what. Hoseok doesn't let go of his hand as he guides Yoongi through the corridors, and talks to him the entire time. He speaks of his duties there, souls he's judged that day, ones he wished he could do more for, comforts Yoongi when a walking skeleton in Roman armor passes him and explains that those are the security force of the palace. By the time they make it to a large room, lit on each side with braziers of Greek fire that give the room an eerie glow, Yoongi has a fairly good idea of where he is, and who Hoseok is taking him to see.

The large ebony throne at the end of the room and the black-robed figure sitting atop it only confirms his fears.

When Hoseok enters the throne room, you're only slightly surprised. It wasn't entirely uncommon for him to take a break from his judicial duties, and so long as there were plenty of Bones to watch the gates, you had no issues. Years would sometimes pass before Hoseok needed to return, relieving the judgment council once more and returning them to their own afterlives.

To see him shadowed by the mint-haired boy you pulled through the earth, however, is a shock.

You set the papers you'd been writing at to the side. Your robes, woven from shadows and dipped in the Styx, swirl around your bare feet as you move to sit correctly with your back straight instead of lounging as you'd been doing before. The darkness you’d brought forth to cushion your chair, plump and fat and soft underneath you, shifts as well, keeping the hard edge of the marble from digging into your skin. Hoseok stifles a smile at the sight and you narrow your eyes at him. You wish he'd say something about it, the punk.

"What can I do for you, Hoseok?" You eventually ask as he and his companion reach the steps just below your throne. Even now, you can barely bring your eyes away from the boy behind him; he's radiant, the light in the room seemingly drawn to him despite the way he's slouched into himself.

"I was just wondering if you knew how this young man came to be in the underworld, my lady," Hoseok says. Your eyes dart back to him and you can't help the way your heart softens at the soft silver shine around him. You look to the mint-haired god again; his eyes dart around nervously as if he expects something to jump out at him, and he's close enough to Hoseok that if the other were to step back, they'd both likely fall to the floor.

You lean forward in your throne, doing your best to project a calm and friendly air to the shorter of the two gods. "Do you not remember?" You ask quietly. Your eyes don't leave his big brown ones, and you can see the moment the panic sets in. "It's fine, you don't need to answer me. Just know that you're safe here."

"Yoongi?" Hoseok says quietly, drawing the boy's attention. "Hey, it's alright. We're not gonna let anything happen." It takes several minutes but eventually the boy - Yoongi, apparently - nods. He hasn't relaxed at all, but he doesn't seem like he's about to bolt out of your throne room, so you consider it a success.

"You were praying," You tell him softly. "You asked for my help, so I gave it, as best I could. I don't think you meant for your words to reach me, but they did." Yoongi frowns ever so slightly as he takes in the knowledge. There's a hint of anxiety in his face, his brow furrowed adorably, but he doesn't startle when Hoseok rests a hand on his shoulder. He looks up, though, and the two of them seem to have a silent conversation. Something settles in your stomach, seeing the ease with which Hoseok interacts with him, and you swallow down the lump in your throat. It's ridiculous to feel anything like this; Hoseok is your subordinate and friend, and you've hardly known Yoongi for five minutes.

"He can stay here, right?" Hoseok asks. You look to Yoongi, wondering if he even wants to stay, if he even wants to be here at all or if he wished someone else had answered his prayers. Hoseok calls your name softly and your gaze flicks to him. "Can he stay?"

You find that you're debating with yourself. Yoongi clearly doesn't belong here; he is soft and sweet and gentle and completely at odds with the harsh, depressive atmosphere that lingers in your palace. He looks terrified even now as he takes in the room, eyes lingering on the bones that were fused together to make your throne. And yet...you cannot escape the fear and hope that had echoed in his prayer, the sheer desperation that someone would help him. He had been running and terrified, which could only mean that he was being chased by something or someone, and you couldn't force him out if he was in danger.

"If you would like to stay," You say after a moment too long, "Then you are, of course, more than welcome to do so." You rise from your throne, shadows dissipating as you do, and take a couple of tentative steps toward the pair. He doesn't shrink back in fear, which you take as a good sign. "The guest quarters will be yours to do with as you please. Hoseok can show you around the palace and grounds, so you don't get lost, and the Bones can bring you anything you require." You move to press a hand to Hoseok's arm, and you level him with a careful look.

"Of course, my lady," Hoseok says. He turns to Yoongi with a radiant smile. "And you can leave whenever you'd like."

"Of course," You agree quickly. "Hoseok can take you back and forth across the river as you wish. Charon can be quite fussy about it." Several times, your guests have been stuck on the wrong side of the river until someone brought your ferryman his payment. Yoongi looks slightly less terrified, and in the emerald glow of the fires, you notice how wide his eyes are. "Oh! You're from the surface, of course, I forgot."

With a snap of your fingers, the sconces along the walls light themselves, and the candles ringing the large chandelier in the center of your throne room surge to life as well. Yoongi startles a little, stepping closer to Hoseok.

"Ah, I forget you surfacers can't see as well down here," Hoseok mutters. "We'll get you a candlestick as well, just in case." He nods to you, Yoongi copying him in a most adorable way. They're halfway out of the room when a thought occurs to you.

"Yoongi?" You call after him. He turns, and the green halo around him makes your heart falter. "Don't eat the pomegranates. Not even the seeds." His brow furrows in confusion but he gives a hesitant nod before he turns and hurries after Hoseok.

As much as your chest aches for him, you won't subject him to this life. You watch him go and wonder how long he'll last in this hellscape.

When their shadows have long disappeared from the walls, you turn and retake your seat on the throne. With a wave, a small team of Bones appears in front of you - the same uniforms, with the same unit numbers, stamped on their dog tags, and the same haunted look where their eyes once were - and you do a quick count. Ten should do fine for what you need.

"Scour the earth. Do not speak to anyone. Find out what he was running from, and if it still searches for him. Don't let anyone see you, and don't let anyone know why you're looking. Return if you're in danger. Report to me immediately." They salute, and you watch their forms slowly disappear, becoming more and more transparent until they glide upwards and through the cracks in the ceiling.

You sit back and wonder how long it will take for you to get answers, and if it will be before or after Yoongi realizes he's too good for this place.

Yoongi is quiet. That's the first thing Hoseok notices about him. He doesn't initiate conversation, really, instead content to listen to Hoseok talk about the various souls he's judged and the occasional escape attempts someone has made. At first, when Yoongi speaks, he's quiet, like he doesn't really want - or expect - to be heard, and he always looks pleasantly surprised when Hoseok answers his question or responds to his comments.

It makes his heart ache, and he wonders what exactly Yoongi has gone through to make him so shocked that anyone would actually listen to what he has to say. It takes weeks for him to warm enough to Hoseok to start speaking more often, to ask questions about his day, to actually request specific things. The day Yoongi asked Hoseok, soft and hesitant, if he could show him the Meadow and the tree, Hoseok almost cried. Yoongi was so obviously ready to be told no, fully expectant for Hoseok to decline such a simple request, and it only reinforced Hoseok's need to give the god everything he could ever want.

"What are you doing, Yoongi?" Hoseok asks when he looks up. They're at the gates, Hoseok in the usual position, eyes roving over the lines of souls slowly shuffling forward, and Yoongi sitting nearby. Cerberus is curled up behind him, dwarfing the god with his massive body, all three heads snoring and slobbering as they sleep haphazardly on top of each other. Yoongi glances up at Hoseok as he grabs another flower from the basket beside him.

"I'm making Cerb some flower crowns," Yoongi answers as if it was obvious. Hoseok frowns.

"Flower crowns?" He echoes. "What's a flower crown?"

Yoongi gives him a disbelieving stare. "It's a bath salt. What the fuck do you think it is, Hobi? It's a crown made of flowers." Hoseok is caught off guard by the sarcasm, as he has been every time Yoongi has spouted off some kind of sass to him. He strides over and crouches beside the mint god to watch him.

Yoongi's fingers are sure and steady as he weaves the stems of the flowers together. It's already half-dozen, Hoseok thinks, the crocus blossoms blending together prettily and not straying in the slightest from where he places them. Hoseok hasn't ever seen anything like it, and he's entranced by the way Yoongi's fingers move and the way the flowers seem to just do whatever he wants without much coaxing on his part.

"I had the Bones bring me back a basket from their last excursion," Yoongi says. "Since none grow here." He stops with one last crocus and eyes it critically before apparently deciding it was good enough. Hoseok can't take his eyes off the thing, enraptured even as Yoongi sets it gently on his head. Hoseok can feel his eyes widen and his cheeks flush red.

"Thanks," He says after a second, one hand darting up to steady the crown as he shifts his weight. He smiles, unable to help himself and poses. "What do you think? Does it suit me?"

"Ugh, you wish," Yoongi says. Hoseok can see the smile in his eyes and is satisfied with the mirth threatening to bubble past Yoongi's lips.

"Y'know," Hoseok says after a while, hands in his pockets as he watches Yoongi make the second crown for Cerb. "I bet if you planted some seeds near the pomegranate tree, they'd grow." Yoongi's hands stop moving, his eyes drifting up to look past Hoseok. Something similar to excitement hides behind his eyes, and Hoseok wants nothing more than to bring it out to shine. Yoongi cocks a brow as if to say 'really' and Hoseok nods.

The gummy smile he gets in return, full of hope and light that the underworld hasn't ever seen before, is well worth the potential scolding you may give him for suggesting Yoongi fiddle with the tree's courtyard. And the way he keeps the flower crown nearby, hanging off a hook on the gates long after the blossoms have wilted and died, is worth the shy smile Yoongi gets every time he sees it.

You don't see Yoongi for the first few weeks he's there. Not really. You catch glimpses when he passes through the palace halls with Hoseok, and he sits with Cerberus while you visit Hoseok at the gates, but he makes no effort to seek you out, and you respect that distance. You can't bring yourself to force your company on him. You're an acquired taste; Hoseok has been in this realm for so long that he's accustomed to the darkness that follows you, the aura of death and despair that usually surrounds you. He's been surrounded by the dead almost as long as you have, so you know he can't be affected by it. Yoongi, though…

Yoongi is life. He's the springtime blossoms in a summer breeze, he's the sound of birds chirping in the treetops, he's vibrant and fresh and lovely and you cannot ruin that. You can't watch him wither away like a winter garden, you can't watch the color drain from his skin until he's just as much a ghost as the souls that wander the Meadow, you can't let him become just as dead as everything else in this cursed place.

So you leave him be. You offer curt nods when you see him with Hoseok and polite waves because giving any more of yourself to him without letting yourself get closer would be too dangerous. Even with the distance you keep, your chest tightens with every smile that graces his lips, you ache to hear his voice even just once, and it's too much. It's too much for someone you haven't even had a real conversation with. Someone who looks at you with apprehension and anxiety, yet brings undeniable joy to the man you've always held in your heart.

It's too much for you to feel like this for someone who makes Hoseok smile as if he's seeing sunlight for the first time in thousands of years. You love Hoseok too much to stand anywhere near them.

You've been avoiding both of them for days. You can't bear to see Yoongi's gummy smile and Hoseok's adorable dimples as they gaze at each other, and you're busy enough to make a decent excuse for it. Expansion isn't difficult, but keeping it quiet is. Plus you've been on the hunt to figure out what had been after Yoongi with such ferocity that it sliced right through his robes and had him praying to anyone who would listen.

You had a few helpful leads, but nothing concrete, and it was more than a little frustrating. Which is why you find yourself stepping out of the shadows of the pomegranate tree, hopeful that it could help to ease even just part of the emotions rolling in your gut.

The sight of Yoongi surprises you, even more so when you see that he's on his knees beside the tree with dirt covering his hands and a smidge of something on his cheek. He looks absolutely wondrous, like everything you've been missing from the world above, and it would bring tears to your eyes if you let it because he's so far out of your reach.

"Hi," You say after a long debate with yourself. Yoongi's head shoots up and he fixes wide eyes on you. He reminds you of the ones who come to you with no memory of what's happened to them, scared and alone and about to get the worst news of their lives. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry," He says immediately. "I didn't mean to, not really. You just said not to eat them, and I'm not, so I thought it would be okay. Hobi suggested it and you two are so close that I figured he'd know if you'd be upset."

"I'm not upset." Your voice is as gentle as you can make it. "I'm just curious. Hoseok didn't mention anything to me, and no one really comes here."

"Oh." The relief is palpable as it courses through him, and he looks back down at the ground in front of him. "I'm just planting some flowers so I can make more crowns for Hobi and Cerb. The others died so fast, and I don't want to keep sending the Bones out to get more if I don't have to."

"Oh, you made the flower crown for Hoseok?" You'd figured as much. No one else in the underworld knew how to make them, and Yoongi was the only consistently around him. "He showed me that, it was gorgeous."

"Obviously, it was made by me, after all," Yoongi spouts. You gape at him, and he gives you a contrite grimace. "I'm sorry, my lady Hades, I forgot who I was with for a moment. It won't happen again."

"It should," You say before you can stop yourself. He glances at you curiously. "I don't mind if you're relaxed and casual around me. I've never been one to enforce the rules that Olympus has. Hoseok is proof enough of that. And you can use my name, I don't mind."

The way he whispers your name, almost as if he's practicing it to himself, makes your heart flutter in your chest. It's so dangerous to be around him like this, relaxed and casual; it's so easy to forget that it's Hoseok that gets this, that deserves this small piece of sunshine.

"Well," Yoongi eventually says. "In that case, you can get to work. I've got an entire basket of seeds left to plant around this thing, and I can only work so fast. Plus I'm getting hungry."

"Oh. Okay, show me what to do." You don't hesitate to mirror his position, robes bunching under your knees in the dirt as he points at the small holes he's carved out of the dirt with the trowel and rake the Bones nabbed for him.

Yoongi is patient, you learn. Not extremely so, but he walks you through what you need to do with clear directions. The seeds are small in your hands, which amuses you to no end, and there's an odd delight in packing the soil around them and dripping water down onto them after. You're smiling for the first time in...you don't know how long, and the feeling of Yoongi's hands around yours as he shows you how to use the trowel is something akin to paradise.

His hands are rough; calloused and weathered and wonderful against the softness of your own. You start to talk freely to him, asking him about each seed you plant and what they are and how they look. He tells you about each one, the deep timbre of his voice like music to your ears. He rolls his eyes at every joke you make, despite the way he smiles, and hits back with several quips of his own. He listens as you tell him, voice shaking, about the pomegranate tree, and how it curses anyone who eats its fruit to stay trapped in the underworld forevermore. He talks and listens and jokes and laughs and it's only after you've made a particularly ridiculous joke that you realize your mistake.

"You've spent too much time around Hobi," Yoongi says. "He made the same joke yesterday." He's looking down at the last few seeds, plotting where in the courtyard to put them, and doesn't see the way the smile dies on your face. You'd forgotten. For a brief time, you'd forgotten that this is just pretending.

You don't get to keep this. You don't get to stay here, in this courtyard, with Yoongi and his rough hands and the mint hair that falls in his eyes and his gummy smile. This isn't yours. You don't get flower crowns and jokes and soft kisses, no matter how much you want them, just like you don't get Hoseok's bright grin or his dimples or his long fingers intertwined with yours. Your heart aches for these two beautiful boys, both of them everything you could ever want in so many different ways. And yet you have neither of them, you don't get either of them. They are each other's, and there is no room there for the death you bring in your wake. You kill everything you touch; the mortals whisper about the cold grip of your hands on their neck as they pass over.

You look back over the seeds you've helped Yoongi plant and wonder how many you've killed before they even lived.

You stand and brush the dirt off your robes. "Well," You say, careful to keep your voice level. "I've got some things to do. I trust you'll be alright on your own." You can't bring yourself to look at Yoongi, can't bear to see the dirt that smudged along his cheek, can't stand to see the way the orange robes drape along him and remind you of the way the autumn leaves looked coating the grass in the meadows.

He doesn't even get a response out before you flee, but you feel his eyes on your back long after you've hidden in the shadows and sunk down onto your bed.

It's astounding, you think as you rinse the dirt off your hands later, how a single afternoon planting seeds with someone can be so detrimental to the walls you'd put around your heart. Tears blur your vision and your fingers are trembling, but you keep scrubbing until the phantom slide of his hands against yours is gone and there is no more evidence of the planting you'd done. When you finally stop, your skin is raw and throbbing, and there are tears running down your face.

You had long accepted that Hoseok could never be yours. You were in two different positions, and he was much too bright to want to be with someone like you. Your shadows would have suffocated him, so you resigned yourself to being his friend. Friend is safe. Friend is good.  

You’d known the same when you met Yoongi. Bright and colorful amidst the darkness of the underworld, you wouldn’t dare to get any closer to him, too familiar with the fluttering of your chest and the jumping in your stomach every time you saw him. Just being friendly was enough, ensuring he is safe and happy is fine with you.

But this? Watching the two of them grow closer and closer, able to love each other so wholly while you stand alone in your darkness, watching their bright smiles and soft looks, all directed only at each other, for eternity? This was too much for you to bear. Being hopelessly in love with one man you can’t have is bad enough, but two of them…

You wish for the first time that you were not immortal, but a meager human upon the surface, unaware and blissful in your ignorance.

He never expected this. Not from the moment he woke up, not when he was sprinting through a forest to escape his mother, not for a single heartbeat could he ever imagined everything that has happened to him since he arrived in this cold land.

He’s been alone for so long, hidden away in his mother’s garden with only the rare visit from Artemis or Hestia as he learned how to do anything and everything his mother wished. He’s never had friends before, he’s never had the subtle inside jokes that he shares with Hoseok, familiar enough that even just a quick glance can have them both bursting with laughter. He’s never known a goddess like you, able to weave together the darkness into something tangible, something useful, something real. It’s like nothing he’s ever seen, and Hoseok’s uncanny ability to bend the environment around him and use his silvery aura to turn almost invisible to the naked eye never ceases to amaze him. The two of you are so powerful, so utterly awe-inspiring, and every single thing his mother had told him is so far from the truth that it almost hurts.

Neither you nor Hoseok is standoffish, really; he can see the hesitant friendship in every smile you send his way, and Hoseok’s primary concern at any moment is making sure he’s happy and safe. It warms Yoongi in a way he could never explain, not even in a million years, simply because he’s never felt this way. In all the books he’s read, the plays he’s seen, every mortal he’s watched, he’s seen this.

He’s seen how they turn red with just a look, how their hearts stutter when hands brush, how they smile, soft and private when they think no one is looking at them. He’s seen this feeling, the bubbling in his chest that he gets every time Hoseok laces their fingers together while walking and the moment you step into the courtyard and see the kaleidoscope of colors that you helped plant. He never would have guessed that he would feel it, though, too isolated from the rest of the world until he came here. Until you pulled apart the earth itself to help him escape, without even knowing why or who he was.

The feeling grows inside of him, thorns pricking into his every breath because he knows it can’t last. He’s seen how you and Hoseok look at each other when you think no one is watching, can feel the pull between you and the years upon years of familiarity that lie between you. The two of you are closer than he could ever get, two sides of the same coin, and more suited to each other than he would ever be.

And he can’t stay.

That’s the worst part. He knows it, knows that she will find him before long and wrap her claws around his throat and drag him back into that gilded cage she calls a greenhouse just to leave him. It’s for the best, my dear, she’ll say, it’s to keep you safe.

Yoongi doesn’t want to be safe, though. He wants to be happy and free, and he’s found that place here, surrounded by death even as he carves out his own little area of life. With Hoseok’s warm grin across from him and your own cool fondness beside him. With flower crowns atop his head and Hoseok’s, and the small buds are woven into your own crown of bones and grief as a small reminder that even in death, there is life.

But she will find him. She always does. And though he cannot bear the thought of leaving you, he will, if only to keep you safe.

Yoongi's been there almost a year when you summon Hoseok to dine with you. By the time he gets to your office - a very understated term for the sprawling library - you're already sitting at your usual desk, food pushed aside and forgotten in lieu of the papers stacked in front of you.  Even with your head bent low and bags under your eyes, you're the most beautiful person Hoseok has ever seen.

He remembers the first time he met you when Zeus had assigned him to be the gatekeeper for the underworld. You were so young, so skittish and worried that you were going to be a terrible ruler as if the dead could be disappointed in you. You'd been beautiful then, too, but not in the same way. You've grown into yourself since then; you're no longer afraid of being a bad queen. You know that you're competent and capable, you know you can do this, and you frequently prove wrong any Olympian who says otherwise. You're mature now; strong and confident and brilliant, and even with the bags under your eyes and the shadows that lick lovingly against your skin, you are absolutely radiant.

Hoseok is so in love with you that it physically hurts him, and every time he looks at you, he is reminded of how you are just out of his reach.

He clears his throat and you look up. The tired smile that graces your face warms him, and he settles into a chair on your left with practiced ease. This isn't the first time you've asked him to dine with you, and it won't be the last.

"What's the occasion?" He teases, delighting in the way you roll your eyes and gesture to the food and nectar that sits in front of him.

"How is Yoongi?" You ask. It doesn't escape him that you don't answer, but you always have your reasons, so he doesn't call you on it.

"Well. He wanders around on his own and doesn't seem to jump at the slightest sound anymore. He came with me the other day when I judged and managed to pick fifteen people for Elysium in a row." An expression passes over your face that he can't decipher. He continues anyway. "He still won't talk much about what happened, but he also doesn't seem to be in much of a hurry to leave. I imagine he'll get bored eventually, and we'll need to give Cerb extra treats when he does, but I'm not concerned just yet."

You nod and Hoseok starts to eat as you rifle through a few more papers. "You know he's Persephone?" You ask, and Hoseok nods. He'd forgotten to share that knowledge with you, but clearly, you had your own way of finding things out. "So then you're aware that his mother is Demeter."

Hoseok pauses for a minute. He swallows the food in his mouth and really looks at you for the first time since he sat down. The bags under your eyes are more prominent, and you're wearing your Hades expression. The one that stays professional and controlled and tells people nothing of your true thoughts. Well, people that haven't known you for more than a thousand years.

"Hoseok, he can't stay here forever," You eventually say. "She's been looking for him everywhere. The humans' crops are ruined, ice and snow have covered the earth, more people are dying than we can hold right now. She won't stop."

"And that means we kick him out?" Hoseok hisses. You close your eyes and he can feel the sigh you're holding back. "You said yourself that he could stay as long as he wants. You can't just rescind that because some wheat goddess is going on a rampage. We still don't know what he was running from, or if it's still out there, and I won't watch him-" He stops, frozen by the way you're pressing your tongue into the side of your cheek. It's the only tell you have and he rarely sees it, because you rarely keep things from him. "What do you know?"

You don't answer, and he repeats the question, louder this time, as he surges out of his chair.

"I was running from her," Yoongi's voice echoes through the library. You and Hoseok both turn to see him standing in the door, and Hoseok's heart swells at the sight. He's in soft, muted pink robes that Hoseok knows he made himself. His cheeks are rounder, and he's no longer curled in on himself. He looks stronger. Confident. Unafraid. "I was running from my mother. That's what you found out, right?" Hoseok looks to you, and the regret in your eyes just confirms it.

"I'm sorry, Yoongi, I was only trying to make sure you were safe, I didn't mean-"

"It's alright," Yoongi says as he moves to run his hand along your cheek. "I know." He smiles at you. Hoseok looks between the two of you - Yoongi's hand resting lightly on your cheek and a soft smile on his lips while his eyes crinkle with rare happiness, your own eyes wide and full of what can only be described as pure, unadulterated love - and his stomach rolls violently. Even after all the time Hoseok has spent with you, and with Yoongi, and the times he's entered a room to find the two of you in comfortable silence, he never expected this. He should've, he realizes; the two of you are a perfect match, complementing each other to near perfection, each fault being smoothed over by the other's strengths.

How could he have thought you wouldn't fall in love with Yoongi? Soft, kind Yoongi, who had just enough snark inside of him to make every word out of his mouth an unexpected joy. Yoongi who braids flower crowns with the flowers he's started to grow in the courtyard, surrounding the pomegranate tree with the beautiful blooms. Yoongi, who encourages Hoseok to judge more and more souls, ones that don't request it, who can somehow pick the good people from the bad just by looking.

And how could he have ever expected Yoongi not to fall for you? Strong and intelligent, determined and kind. You who opened your home to him in his most vulnerable moment and never expected anything in return. You who did everything in your power to find what was chasing him, and find a way to stop it. You, with your lonely smile and your bare feet. You, who Hoseok himself has been in love with for tens of thousands of years.

How could he have expected either of you not to fall in love in the months that you have known each other when Hoseok couldn't even stop himself?

“I’ll go back to her,” Yoongi says softly, finally dropping his hand from your cheek and turning the radiant smile on Hoseok. “She’ll have no reason to continue this if I return.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Yoongi,” You say immediately. ““You were desperate to get away from her, and...what she almost did to you, that’s unacceptable.”

“Let her rage,” Hoseok agrees. “You’re safe here, no one can get to you without getting through the two of us first, not to mention Cerberus and the Bones. No nature goddess will last in this place, not with our full force around you.”

“Thank you, Hobi, but no. I can’t ask you both to do that, not when it could end so badly for you. You don’t know what she can do, it’s not-”

“You aren’t asking us,” You say. Your voice is as quiet as always, but there’s a firmness there that Hoseok recognizes. It’s usually saved for the throne room when some mortal has been particularly annoying or stubborn, and it’s a shock to see it directed at Yoongi. “We are offering. Let us protect you, Yoongi. At least let me speak with Zeus about this. I may be able to convince him to intervene.”

Yoongi hesitates, the indecision is written all over his face, and Hoseok leans to lace their fingers together. It’s a familiar gesture, done so often to prevent Yoongi from getting lost that it’s second nature at this point.

“Please,” Hoseok pleads when Yoongi looks at him. “Please, Yoongi.”

The reluctant nod is all the confirmation needed. You’re already scribbling out a summons for Hermes to carry to the lord of the gods, and Hoseok is halfway through the halls to reinforce the gates and ensure Cerberus knows his task. He tries not to think about the way Yoongi lingered behind, one hand on your shoulder as he watched you write and the other caressing the flower-riddled braids he’d made earlier that day.

He doesn’t think about it, because in the end, it doesn’t matter. Hoseok is so deeply in love with the two of you, so grossly enamored, that he would go to the end of time itself if it meant keeping the two of you safe and happy. Even if that meant watching you love each other and not him.

“What do you mean, he won’t help?”

You massage your temples without looking up from the letter Zeus had sent back with Hermes. He was, unsurprisingly, not helpful. Hoseok had appeared not long after the messenger had left, and is, also unsurprisingly, irate.

“According to him, he has no dog in this fight, because Yoongi isn’t his son, he’s Demeter’s, and if he were to get involved, he’d side with her since the humans are dying so quickly, which isn’t exactly good for worship numbers.”

“Are you kidding me? He seriously said he’d take her side in this?”

“Not in so many words, but yes. And I get it, Hobi. His job is to keep the peace between everyone in Olympus, and without actually coming here to give me an audience, all he has is Demeter’s side of the story.”

“Which is?”

“That I kidnapped her son and am currently holding him captive in a dungeon down here.”

“That’s absurd. He’s not captive at all, he’s happier here than he ever was up there, and you didn’t kidnap him!” You give a slight nod to show that yes, Hoseok, you’re aware of the truth. “Does he know what she does to him? How she treats him?”

“Hoseok, please,” You mutter. The weight of Zeus’ words is like a blade against your throat and you want nothing more than to help Yoongi. Clearly, the Fates have decided against that. “You know how he is. Do you honestly think he’d care? She has a claim to him, despite what he wants, and unless we find a way to get Zeus down here or go there ourselves, our lord won’t be able to hear any other side of this story.”

“Then we’ll...we’ll go there! We’ll make them listen! You could talk sense into him, make him see that he needs to help.”

“You know I can’t do that, Hobi.” Hoseok flinches, as if just remembering that you are as captive here as the souls you keep. You’re glad, not for the first time, that Death Itself cannot be contained, so that Hoseok, at least, is free to come and go as he pleases. “And before you say it, no, we can’t ask him to go. It isn’t safe. The second he sets foot outside this realm, she’ll pull him back. We’re lucky that he hasn’t already told her where Yoongi is.”

Your statement is punctuated with a muffled thud, and the anxiety that runs through you is mirrored in the look Hoseok gives you. Another thud echoes through the palace, the ground rumbling under your feet, and you stand.

“Where is he?” You ask, already pulling the shadows around you.

“Just past the gate, walking through the Meadow. If we hurry-”

“Go.” You disappear into the blackness, never more glad that Hoseok can sense the living in your land. When you step away from the shadows, Yoongi is there, confusion written across his face and fear in his eyes. “You have to run.”

“No,” He says. “I’m not going to keep running from her. I’m staying here, she can’t take me back.”

“Yoongi, please,” You beg. He’s too vulnerable here, too open, too easily seen with his spring green robes billowing around his feet and flowers woven into a crown atop his head. He takes your hands in his and pulls you close, and you’ve never seen a fire like this in him. It burns hot and strong and it makes your chest ache for what could have been.

“I won’t let her hurt you while I hide away like a coward,” He whispers. His thumb wipes away tears you didn’t know were there, and determination floods through you.

"Please, Yoongi. Let us help you. Let me help you. I-" The words choke in your throat, but Yoongi nods as if they made it out.

"I love you, too." His voice is soft, barely audible over the shaking ground and the deafening sound of hooves slamming into your gates. You feel more than see Hoseok land beside you, and his hand rests on the small of your back without hesitation.

"Take him," You tell Hoseok. "Go to the palace. You'll be safe there. Don't let him leave."

Hoseok's eyes are fire-bright as he wraps an arm around Yoongi's waist. The god's protests fall on dead ears, even as you let your hands brush over the softness of Hoseok's ink black wings. Just one moment, that is all you want, just one single second to pretend.

"I'll see you after, my lady," Hoseok says firmly. You don't have the heart to correct him, nor the time, so you just nod. Yoongi's screams echo in your ears even as you turn, the blackness that lingers at every corner of your realm swirling around your feet and ready to be whatever you need. You let one last year fall from your eyes as the gates crumple, and the furious eyes of Demeter fixate on you and the black-winged figure carrying her son away.

Hoseok flies faster than he ever has, determined to get Yoongi into the palace and relative safety. The god sobs in his arms, still struggling to get back to where you stand in the Meadow, the massive form of Demeter towering above you, but Hoseok doesn't relax his grip. You gave him an order; he hadn't disappointed you yet, and he isn't about to start now. Not with Yoongi caught in the middle.

He doesn't hesitate when he touches down in the palace, wings retracted and brushing ever so slightly against the black marble floor. He turns to the nearby Bones and orders them to the doors, summoning as many others as he can spare from the gates and Fields to help barricade the palace from the goddess.

"Hobi, you have to go, you have to help her," Yoongi sobs. "She's gonna...I can't, Hobi, please, you have to keep her safe."

"I have to keep you safe," Hoseok replies. He's got a vice grip around Yoongi's arm as he pulls him deeper into the palace, doing his level best to avoid any window or door to the outside. "That was the order she gave and that's the order I shall obey."

"How can you say that?! Don't you care that she could-"

"Of course I care!" Hoseok spits, rounding on the shorter god the second the words leave his lips. "Do you think this is easy for me, Yoongi? Do you think I enjoy choosing between the two of you like this? Because I don't. I want nothing more than to be helping her right now, but I can't...I can't leave you alone here. It's too dangerous."

Hoseok isn't stupid; he knows exactly how he feels about you, and Yoongi, and he's not oblivious to the way the both of you look at him. Still, the two of you are powerful deities, worshipped and loved, feared and prayed to. He's just a guardian, content to sit in the background and watch for threats. Yes, he loves you, with every fiber of his immortal soul, but he also loves Yoongi, and he knows you love Yoongi, and you gave him an order.

"Hobi," Yoongi whispers, eyes wet and red and beautiful. "Hobi, please, you have to help her. She needs you. I can manage, I can hide, but she needs you. No one else can help her."

The fact that he's even considering this shows just how easy it is for Yoongi to manipulate him. Hoseok understands now, what you meant all that time ago. Yoongi's voice is rough and lingering and fearful but it carries so much hope that it digs into Hoseok's skin like a hook. He curses and bundles Yoongi into the corner.

"Stay hidden. Don't make a noise. You can't let her find you." Hoseok hesitates for a split second before pressing a quick kiss to Yoongi's forehead. "I will see you after this."

"I know."

It's never been harder for him to turn his back on someone, but Hoseok manages, with only one last look back before he takes to the air and surges forwards to where you stand, keeping Demeter back with every piece of your power.

Yoongi runs. He runs and runs and runs, the bare skin of his feet silent on the cool marble. The braziers have long since gone out, but he stopped needing them months ago. He knows where he is, even as he tucks himself into a small, nearly invisible niche in a corner. He hardly dares to breathe, too scared that the sound will alert his mother of his location. The palace is silent, not a single sound in the entire thing, and it's deafening in the aftermath of the rumbling screams that signaled your battle with her.

He isn't sure how he managed to convince Hoseok to leave him, whether it was the obvious love the god felt for you or the sheer desperation in his own eyes, but he could only pray the two of you made it out. As gods, you're all difficult to kill, but it's not impossible. Not for other deities.

Come out, little flower.

Yoongi stifles a whimper, panic coloring his vision white for a long while before he can breathe again. Memories flash behind his eyelids and he pried them open just to stare into the darkness.

You can't hide forever, little flower. You know that.

Her voice echoes against the marble. It makes her sound like she's everywhere and nowhere at once, able to find him even as he hides. He clenches his teeth and reminds himself that you and Hoseok are the only ones that know this palace better than him.

You're making me very angry, little flower. Why do you run? I only want the best for you, and you insist on causing such a fuss.

The sound of her sandals reaches him, reverberating off the walls and telling him that she's far too close. He slips silently out of the niche and pads across the floor on the balls of his feet. He doesn't make a sound, something he perfected in his time with her, and just as she slips around the corner, he's darting down another hallway.

Look at what you've done, little flower. All this mess, and for what? Do you like it when I'm angry? Do you enjoy this game of ours?

He slips into another hall just in time. Exhaustion has made him slow. The marble of the wall is cool against his heated skin, and he wonders where you are. Where Hoseok is. If you're alright or if you're laying in the Meadow, golden ocher pooling around you. The thought enrages him, and for the first time, he can feel power at his fingertips; real power, not the simple gardening magic she taught him as a child. He's ready to use it, he thinks. He's so tired of running, so tired of being afraid, and he's so fucking angry that the people he loves have had to fight his battles for him.

Found you, little flower.

Warmth circles his ankle and pulls before he can jerk away. Her nails are sharp than before, like sickles at the end of each long finger, and he scrabbles uselessly at the smooth stone floor. She's speaking but the sound of her voice - wind whispering through a field of wheat, a brook babbling in the summer - is drowned out by the blood pumping in his ears.

"No, I won't go back, you can't make me," He hisses, kicking at her hand with his free leg. He doesn't feel the cuts on his soles, doesn't register them at all until he sees the gold dropping onto the floor; the adrenaline masks the pain. She says something else and he stops kicking, though he doesn't know what she's said. He isn't listening, too busy thinking of a way out of this.

It comes to him, all at once, and he relaxes in her grip. His chest heaves in a sob, because he knows exactly what he has to do, and you will never forgive him for it.

"Alright," He says flatly. Demeter stops in her monologue. "I'll go with you. Just leave them alone." The smile that splits her face is more grotesque than any corpse he's seen in the Styx, but the way she releases his ankle is a blessing. He keeps himself hunched and downtrodden as he pushes himself up, into her waiting arms. The hug is bruising and brings vile to his throat, but it is necessary.

It's with a flash of green as he pulls away from her that he makes his move. The flower crown previously atop his head has morphed, grown into thick, thorny vines around her arms and keeping her in place.

Yoongi is gone before she can so much as screech, sprinting as fast he can through the halls to the one thing that can help him. He feels it when she rips through his flowers, his very soul shaking at the pain that rips through him, but he's determined. He's made good ground, he only had a little further to go.

The vibrant colors of the courtyard have never felt so welcome. He's halfway through, blossoms crushed under his feet as he tears through the carefully tended flowers, when she catches up. The blade of her scythe rips through his back, but the adrenaline masks the pain. He's bleeding, he knows, but he can't bring himself to focus on anything but the way the bark feels under his grip, branches reaching down to help him reach his goal.

She tears him out of the tree violently, no longer wearing the carefully sculpted mask of love. The scream that she unleashes when she sees him shakes the entire realm, soft pebbles falling from the ceiling of the cavern miles above his head, but he doesn't care.

The pomegranate is ripe against his tongue, juice tinting his lips pink, and the weight of it against his chest has never been more welcome. Demeter screams for what could be centuries, but Yoongi does not care, because he has won, and he has never tasted anything so sweet in his entire life.

"Come to bed," Hoseok pleads, not for the first time. You look at him with a sigh. His wings are gone, hidden away until he needs them again, and his arm is free of the bandages he's been wearing. It has taken so long for him to heal, and you still aren't sure he should be up and about. There's a small, barely perceptible scar along his forearm, the faintest reminder of what the two of you survived.

"I have to finish this before he returns, Hobi," You tell him, also not for the first time. Hoseok scoffs and comes around the desk to stand behind you, eyes roving over the documents in front of you.

"It's been over six months," He whispers in your ear. "Zeus has approved your expansion requests. I'm fine. You're fine. Yoongi will be back from Olympus soon."

"Hoseok," Your tone is warning despite the way he whispers your name. You deflate, falling back in your chair and letting him rub your shoulders. "I just miss him."

"I know. I do too." You're both quiet for a while. It has been six months since Demeter crashed into your world and rampaged through the Meadow to find Yoongi. You remember it so vividly, the way you struggled against the unbridled fury she had, the way Hoseok screamed as she broke his wing, the pain in your chest as you'd crawled to him and just held him in your arms until the Bones had made it to the two of you and carried him to the palace.

You had been, and still are, vastly proud of him and Yoongi for fighting back, but that didn't change the fact that they had both put themselves in immense danger by doing so. Even with the - admittedly brilliant, if stupid - plan that Yoongi had come up with, things never really worked out for you. Hoseok had been bedridden for weeks, unable to even more because of the pain in his wing. Hermes has helped with the healing process, which you were unendingly thankful for, but Yoongi had been carted off to Olympus almost immediately for negotiations.

Zeus, benevolent leader and incompetent moron that he is, had decided on a compromise: Yoongi would stay with you in the underworld after the harvest was finished, free to do whatever he liked, but until then he had to stay in Olympus. The letter had mentioned something about reparations to the mortals for the utterly obscene amount of crops they had lost - which was ridiculous really, they were doing their level best to kill the planet and you are gods, since when do gods pay reparations to mortals? - that Yoongi was required to use his abilities to help with.

You'd sent Hermes back with several colorful threats of what exactly would happen to the billions of dead you kept here should Yoongi return in any way other than utter perfection, and you've been anxious for days to find out whether you get to follow through on them. It only worsens when you remember that you have a decision to make when Yoongi returns. You remember the way he looked when he said he loved you, returning words you couldn't bring yourself to say, and you remember the elation and subsequent depression that came after the battle at the realization that you could have had him, were he not gone for half the year.

And yet you also distinctly remember the way Hoseok looked, wings splayed over several tables to hold them in place as they healed, vulnerable and shy as he told you that he was sorry for disobeying you. You won't ever forget his face as he explained, the way his lips formed around your name when he told you he couldn't beat to see you hurt, not after so many years spent loving you. The feel of his lips against your skin is like a phantom even now; Hoseok had waited until he was healed to do anything more than press chaste kisses against your knuckles, and even still you've not felt him the way you want, but it hasn't stopped him from trying.

"Come on, my lady," Hoseok says, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Just for a while." You grumble under your breath - you really do have work to finish before Yoongi arrives - but you allow Hoseok to pull you from your chair and lead you down the hall to your bedroom.

So lost in your own musings, you don't notice the figure lounging on your bed until he speaks.

"Six months and I don't get even so much as a hello?"

Your eyes shoot up and your breath hitches in your throat. Pale green robes lined in the most beautiful black and silver embroidery pool around him, matching the braided crown that rests atop his head. You didn't know flowers like that existed, let alone that they could look so wonderful on someone.

"I didn't know you were back," You breathe.

"That's the point of a surprise, my love," Hoseok says from behind you, hand tightening around yours. Guilt begins to grow in your chest and Yoongi tsks at you. He rises and comes to stand in front of you, brow furrowed.

"That's no way for a queen to look, is it? What has you thinking so hard?" His thumb smooths the space between your brows and you can't help the glance to Hoseok.

"I can't...I don't want to hurt you." Your voice is barely a whisper, and the familiar sting encircles your heart once more. You couldn't choose between the two of them, not if you tried, not even if it meant getting out of this place.

"You won't," Hoseok tells you with a familiar grin. "Yoongi and I have already talked about what we feel for each other, and for you. The only question now is if you'll have us. Both of us."

Months ago, you would have called them crazy and had them exiled for fear they'd gone mad. You never imagined you could have one of them, let alone both; you had been ready to tell them both that you had been mistaken because having one by your side while your heart still yearned for the other was far more cruel than anything you could put in the Fields of Punishment.

Now? Now you know what the Isles must feel like. It is Yoongi in front of you, thumb brushing lightly against your cheek while Hoseok's warmth is steady behind you, one arm encircling your waist and keeping you steady.

"Both of you?" You echo. Yoongi nods.

"You don't have to," Hoseok says from behind you. "But we know how you feel about us, and we're sure in how we feel for each other. There are stranger pairings in the world, aren't there?"

"Only one of you could be king." You aren't sure why you say that, can't remember why it even matters when Hoseok trails his lips over the shell of your ear.

"I never have looked good on a throne," He says. Yoongi's chest rumbles in a laugh, and you could cry at the sight of that familiar gummy smile.

"Please," Yoongi eventually says. "Please say yes." You search his eyes for any hint of indecision or regret, and when you find none, you turn to Hoseok. He has a soft, encouraging smile on his face, and he holds your crown in his free hand. The cool black metal is harsh against his tanned skin, but what draws your eye isn't the way the bones are fused together or the etchings of historical scenes across each. No, it's the soft pale green blossoms woven in among the metal, a stark contrast to the harshness of the bones, and the silver thread twined around all of it, dipping in and out in various places but clearly noticeable in the light. It's a perfect representation of the three of you and it makes your chest swell.

"Yes," You breathe. They don't move, and your eyes dart between them. "Yes, absolutely. I can think of nothing I have ever wanted more."

Yoongi surges forward, capturing you in a long-awaited kiss. His lips are soft as blossoms against yours, warm and gentle as the hands that cup your jaw and draw you closer. You're aware, distantly, of the soft clink of metal on stone as Hoseok sets your crown to the side, though his arm never leaves your waist.

Hours could have passed with Yoongi kissing you. You aren't sure. Time runs together and blends, a dizzying whirlwind of slow drags of his lips across yours followed by quick, messy bursts of his tongue. You can barely focus on what is happening, mind split between the absolute euphoria of kissing him and the heat that comes from Hoseok's fingers dancing along your waist and shoulders, his breath ghosting over your neck as he watches. When Yoongi finally detaches from your lips, he ducks down to suck at the exposed skin of your collarbone, and Hoseok turns your chin so you face him.

"May I, my lady?" He asks. His voice is rough and deeper than you're used to, affected by the sight of you and Yoongi. His fingers twine with the strings holding your robes together and you give him a nod. It doesn't even take a full breath before the black material is pooling at your feet. Hoseok stifles something that sounds suspiciously like a moan behind you, and you think Yoongi actually purrs. They both run their hands along your skin, basking in the goosebumps that they raise and the shivers that crawl up your spine.

"Absolutely ethereal," Yoongi mutters. You pull him into another kiss, one hand coming up to rest against his shoulder while your other tangles in Hoseok's hair where he's doing his level-best to leave his mark on your neck.

"Please," You murmur. "I want to make you happy."

"You've already done that, my queen," He says. His smile is soft and the glint in his eye is sharp. You huff a little and tap twice at Hoseok's neck; when he pulls away, pouting but compliant, you push Yoongi until he's falling back onto your bed. He goes with no objections, one hand twining his fingers with yours and you crawl up to straddle his hips. "Let me please you, my queen. I've been waiting six months to taste you, and I don't want to waste another moment if I don't have to."

Your breath hitches as Hoseok steps up behind you. The bare skin of his chest is a shock as it presses against your back, and he slides his hands along your sides before beginning to tease your nipples. You stifle the moan, emitting more of a whine than anything, and you think you nod. All you know is the heat between your legs and the knee-deep ache to make them happy.

Yoongi's between your legs in a flash. You can't be sure how exactly he moved so quickly without jostling you, but the thought is all but shoved out of your mind as he swipes his tongue against you for the first time. You're glad Hoseok is behind you because your legs are already trembling where they're curled under you and your head drops back to rest against his shoulder. As merciless as Hoseok is in his torment of your chest, Yoongi is doubly so.

You imagine a man starving and dehydrated in a desert wouldn't be this invested in a sudden banquet laid in front of him; Yoongi worships you, circling your clit several times before dipping down to dart teasingly in and out of your hole. He laps up every single drop of your arousal, dutiful in his mission even as Hoseok begins to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. The heat of his breath has you closer to the edge than you want to admit, but the sheer love that radiates from his words at the same time Yoongi rumbles out a heavenly moan straight into your folds, tongue buried inside of you, is what drives you over the edge.

You aren't surprised when neither of them stop; you get the sense Yoongi is thoroughly enjoying himself between your thighs, based on the growing tent in his robes. Hoseok grinds against your ass, and his own hardness presses against you with every painless thrust of his hips. A pang of guilt shoots through you and your hands drop. It's a bit of an awkward angle, but you make it work as you glide your hands over him. He's thick, that's for sure, and nearly as long as your forearm. How you're supposed to take that inside of you is anyone's guess, but as Yoongi brings you to yet another orgasm with his mouth, you realize that's exactly what they're preparing you for.

The whimper comes unbidden, walls clenching around nothing at the thought of them filling you, and they both shudder. "Please," You gasp, "Please, I need you. Both of you."

Yoongi graciously lets you rise off of him, and when you settle on your back, he sits up to smile at you. His lips and chin are absolutely coating in your slick, the sight erotic and exciting. The feeling is doubled as Hoseok grips Yoongi's chin, turning the mint-haired god to face him.

"How does she taste, my flower?" He purrs. You don't hear Yoongi's response, just the deep thrum of his voice, but you see the way Hoseok runs his thumb across Yoongi's lips, collecting your juices, before sliding it into his own mouth. You moan at the sight, Hoseok's eyes falling closed as he relishes in the taste of you. Yoongi strips out of his robes while he can, and he doesn't seem to miss the way your and Hoseok's eyes watch hungrily.

"Tell me what you want," Hoseok says, pulling you closer as Yoongi settles behind you. "We're here for you, my queen."

"I…" You falter. You aren't even sure what you want now; you've spent six months trying to figure out how to tell both of the men you love that you can't be with either of them and now you have both of them naked in your bed, waiting to please you. You can hardly think, can't focus beyond the feel of their skin against yours and the heat of their gaze, but you know one thing.

You need them to know how desperately you love them, and with the fire burning between your thighs, there is exactly one way you can do that.

"I need you inside me, Hobi," You tell him. "I need to feel you inside of me. Yoongi, too. Both of you." Hoseok's cock twitches and something in his jaw clicks. You don't wait for more of a response, choosing instead to slide across the sheets to straddle Hoseok's hips. His hands rest lightly on your hips, tentative now, and you smile at him. His hands are gentle now, soft as the smile he gives you in return. His cock is dripping and red, a warm heat in your palm as you guide him to your entrance.

The look in his eyes, the small moan he releases, the hitch in Yoongi's breath behind you as you slowly sink down onto Hoseok will forever be etched into your memory. You're so full that you could cry; he feels absolutely perfect inside of you, and it only gets better as he guides you carefully up and then back down onto him. Your moan is felt more than heard and it only gets louder as he speeds up. His fingers are marble against your his, unmoving and firm as he slides in and out. He doesn't look away for a second and neither do you; all the years you've spent thinking about him, the millennia you've ached to love and be loved by him, it has all led to this. Your hips moving against his, connected in a way you've never been before; if it were possible to read his thoughts, you think you could at this moment, because they must be a mirror of your own.

"I love you," You whisper. Yoongi's warmth presses against your spine as he slides a finger between the two of you to rub slow circles into your clit, and you gasp. "I love you, Hobi, so much." The words are a mantra on your lips, and you think there may be tears in his eyes but you can't be sure because you're coming again, shuddering on top of him, and Yoongi is gently pulling you off.

Hands turn you, and now it's Yoongi between your legs, cock red and throbbing where it sits against his stomach. He isn't as long as Hoseok, but he's wider, and you clench again at the sight.

Yoongi opens his mouth to say something, but you stop him with a soft kiss pressed against the corner of his mouth. You slide down onto him, welcoming the slight burn that comes with the stretch. It takes two breaths for you to become impatient and begin to move, grinding your hips down against his. Yoongi isn't as loud as Hoseok, soft pants and whines where Hobi is echoing moans and groans, but it's just as attractive. He moves his hips in tandem with yours, and the muses themselves couldn't have created a better rhythm. The words fall from your lips again; it's easier, now that you've said them to someone, to let them go. They don't ball in your throat, aren't a lump to swallow down anymore, and you revel in the feeling.

"I love you," Yoongi returns, thumbs ghosting over the skin of your thighs. "So much, both of you. Saved me, can't fucking...fuck, can't tell you enough." You nod and loose another moan when Hoseok slides a finger in alongside Yoongi's cock.

"Do you think she can take us both, my flower?" Hoseok asks. His voice is raspy in your ear and you shudder as you orgasm again. There's a moment when you wonder just how many times you can come from the two of them, but it's gone the second Yoongi speaks.

"I think she could," Yoongi responds. "She's certainly wet enough. Absolutely soaked, aren't you, my queen? Do you want that? Both of us in here, filling you up?" He punctuates every word with another thrust of his hips and you nod. You don't think you've ever wanted anything more.

Hoseok is careful as he fingers you, working you open with one, then two, then three fingers as Yoongi slides in and out. You'd commend them both on their stamina if you could spare a single thought to anything but the feeling of them. Yoongi looks wrecked, covered in sweat with swollen lips, panting and desperate as he writhes beneath you.

When Hoseok finally decides you're ready, he slides his fingers out and asks you again if you're sure. You barely have the presence of mind to nod, too close to coming again, but it's enough for him. He slides in, and all three of you are moaning. You can't be sure what it feels like for them, but you're in absolute bliss. Hoseok peppers your shoulder with chaste kisses, murmuring encouragement as he sinks deeper inside. His cock drags against your walls and Yoongi's dick, and the thought makes you clench around them both. You're so full, you may explode, but it's perfection. When Hoseok bottoms out inside of you, you're all still for a while, just getting used to it.

"You're perfect," Hoseok whispers into your skin. "Both of you, you're both fucking perfect. Fuck, can I-?"

"Yes," You interrupt. You're already grinding down onto them, desperate for any kind of friction. "Please, Hobi." He grunts as he starts to move, and Yoongi does the same. They get a steady rhythm after a while, one sinking in as deep as he could get as the other drags outward, only to slam back in at the last second.

A sob builds in your throat, the sheer pleasure rolling through your body too much to handle as orgasm after orgasm slammed into you. There are hands everywhere, two on your hips keeping you steady, two roaming your body and teasing your nipples, on one Hoseok's neck to keep him close as another rests lightly against Yoongi's throat. You aren't sure which are yours, can't tell where you end and they begin, too fucked out to be able to think beyond the drag of their cocks against your walls and the growing ache inside you.

"Please," You gasp. "Please, need it. Fill me, please, need you both to fill me, make me yours, forever. Mark me. I'm yours, always, please, fill me with you." They both groan at that, and their pace speeds up. They're hitting harder and deeper and brushing against the spot inside of you that makes your vision turn white. Something gushes down your thighs as you spasm around them wildly, hips jerking of their own accord, and you feel it as they come together, hot seed spilling inside of you as you ride out your highs together.

You're panting and sweaty and hot and still, you don't think you'd trade this for even a moment of sunlight. They slide out of you and their cum seeps down your legs before you can stop it. You fall to the bed beside Yoongi, chest heaving even as he wraps you in his arms. A wave of your hand creates a small fan near the bed, shadows churning out cool air that feels like ambrosia on your skin.

Hoseok reappears with water for you both, and you thank him. Your voice is nearly gone, but it's worth it, you think. You pat the space beside you and Hoseok climbs in. His skin is hot against yours; the three of you are essentially a furnace at the moment, but you can't bring yourself to care. You can't count how many orgasms you had or how long you spent with them; it could have been minutes or hours or even days. It doesn't matter to you, really. Sprawled between an already-sleeping Yoongi and a Hoseok that's tracing invisible designs onto your skin, you have everything you could ever want.

Later you sit atop the shadows near your bed, chin in your hand as you admire the card between your fingers. Yoongi and Hoseok are wrapped around each other in your bed, lightly snoring as the sheets rise and fall against their naked chests. As you watch them, Hoseok’s brow furrows and he lazily stretches his arm to pat against the bed in search of you. He snuffles a little, and Yoongi nuzzles deeper into the crook of his neck until they’re both quiet again.

Silver foil glints in the light and you look back at the card in your hand. There’s a stack a hundred high beside you, all of them identical to the next save for the curling letters that make up the recipients, but this one is special. This one is your favorite. If you didn’t absolutely have to send it off, you would frame it and hang it above your throne; ultimately, though, you’d rather bask in the aftermath that’s sure to come.

With a small smile, you set it atop the others and wrap the bit of twine around them all. It’s gone with a wave of your hand, no doubt appearing wherever Hermes is. You wish you could see the look on his face when he realizes what they are, but he’s not the one that you really wish you could watch.

The raspy call of your name brings you back to the present, and you look up to find Yoongi watching you, lids heavy with sleep and eyes dark. “What are you doing?” He asks.

“Nothing.” You grin and stand, letting the shadows underneath you fall away. “Just sending out a quick notice.” You slide in beside him and Hobi, the latter still asleep but turning to wrap his arms around you nonetheless. Yoongi presses kisses to your knuckles and you pull a stray flower petal from his hair.

“You’re gloating, aren’t you?” He mutters. There’s a smile behind his eyes, and it warms you.

“Maybe a bit.” You lean over and kiss him, gentle and tender and you hope that it conveys everything you can’t put into words. “Would you rather I didn’t?”

“No,” Yoongi answers after a long pause in which he moves to straddle Hoseok’s hips in order to get close enough to suck marks into your neck. His lips are slow against your skin, tired and lazy from sleep. “I think I enjoy this side of you, actually.” “I, for one, am very much enjoying this side of you.” You grin at Hoseok’s words, smiling down at him. He’s half-hard again, hands resting lightly on Yoongi’s hips and eyes fixed on the bruises that bloom on your neck. “I thought we were sleeping.”

“We were,” You tell him. “You can always go back to sleep if you want.”

“You wish,” He mutters. Yoongi groans against your neck and you look down to see Hoseok palming him, working him up to fullness as Yoongi fucks into his hand. You wrap one of your own around Hoseok and return the favor; the way his moan echoes through the room is better than anything the nine muses could have created.

It’s slow and tired, each of you already spent from your earlier activities, but when you eventually drop between them, chests heaving from your orgasms and already half-asleep again, you think it’s worth it.

When you wake later and find a card sitting on the flower-woven throne - a new addition to the hall, one most welcome - crumpled and half-torn with a thorn sticking out of it, you know it’s worth it.

[axclfms]

hllo demons n space cowboys !! i’m sage  comin 2 u live frm the est tz with a v red dash icon tht i can’t be bothered to change atm .   anyways  ,  shimmies shoulders  im v v excited to be here with my child axel  so let me just diiiiive right into her ! pls hit me up or spank tht lil heart if you’d like to plot and i’ll come runnin. 

「charlotte d’alessio & cisfemale」⇾ medici , axel, the junior radcliffe student’s records show that she is a scorpio and 20 years old. she is studying fine arts & photography, living in noland and can be passionate, magnetic, heedless & addictive. when i see her i am reminded of catfishing passport photos, shoplifting out of pure boredom & empty film canisters used as pill holders . ⇽

alrite first things first HERE is her pinterest ,  feel free to skip all the junk below  & just vibe check her

BACKGROUND

born & raised in southlake, tx  to oliver & pearl medici

they were high school sweethearts who were voted most likely to get married and have a dozen kids running around

they stopped at 2 bc they just .. their kids were a handful  . . . but axel will tell you they stopped after her bc they hit perfection :~)

the medici’s come from a long line of politicians  &  are all associated with the political world in one form or another  

her father dreamt of becoming president  &  honestly was beginning to climb his way there

started off by getting elected as mayor  &  then from mayor went onto join the state’s senate & was working on his campaign for governor of tx

axel & her older brother adored their father & played their part , knowing that even the smallest mistake cld wreck their dad’s way to the top... even if it didn’t matter now, if he were to run his presidential campaign they would surely be digging for anything to take him down .  aside frm some partying & drinking , they never did anything too too wild

her brother ended up going to yale for college, not wanting to be too far from him but wanting a break from her parents  &  texas  ,  axel applied to radcliffe bc she knew the ivy life wasn’t for her

and something about radcliffe’s history drew her in

last year right before midterms , axel got a phone call tht turned her world upside down .  her dad had gotten into a car accident.  after getting rushed to the ER, he ended up dying from complications in surgery.  he was in the early stages of his campaign for governor & was on his way to meet his team.

it was ruled as an accident &  that seemed to be that on that. & everyone went ahead and moved on with their lives

axel still wants to believe that there was foul play in her father’s death mainly bc she wants to blame someone

frm her eyes her mom n brother have healed without any trouble. her brother had gone back to school, graduated from yale and jetted off to south africa with his new gf where they were working for a non profit . her mom had started dating someone new within six months.

PERSONALITY

the whole thing has taken an impact on her n she’s just ... a lot more darker or wilder nw. think bradley martin frm bates motel or marissa cooper frm the oc

was probably head of social committee and heavily involved in the school. was also a cheerleader but went to practice high as balls one too many times , and eventually got kicked off the team.

lost a bet & graffiti’d the school building , got ratted out and spent a month of her summer doing community service and picking up trash.

if you knew her during freshman year and half of sophomore year ,  she is probably a completely different person nw.

pops xanax like they’re vitamins , is constantly day drunk , always has a flask hidden in a designer purse. has low key developed a little bit of a coke habit

rly good at putting on a facade of perfection when she needs to but truly feels like she has nothing left to lose so she says whatever pops into her mind, likes to stir up trouble when she’s bored n has rly just turned into a firecracker n is jus kinda.. ruthless nw

wld hit on someone’s dad out of pure boredom 

uses sex as an outlet to feel in control, to feel good , to feel wanted

only thing that she’s still passionate about is art and photography .

photography inspo is probably sarahbahbah , where she likes to shoot things in series with a film vibe to it.

catch her walking around with hints of paint on her hands , not sleeping bc she’s trying to perfect her latest piece

always sketching or doodling , probably has a film camera slung around her neck or dangling frm her wrist

human embodiment of the cherry & wilted rose emoji

big on skin care and doing face masks and only says ‘self love’ ironically. usually after she spins herself into chaos

big aesthetic would b phoebe tonkin lookin sad and depressed at the farmer’s market carrying around flowers 

ok that is all i got .... ty for prowling thru this if u did. also she is a fairly new muse of mine so if ... she ends up changing once she hits the dash MIND UR BUSINESS alskslks jkkk

WANTED CONNECTIONS

we love angst & fictional toxicity over here! hit me w any & all of ur toxic wcs

a good influence for her

someone who she used to be bff’s with but shut them out when everything went down and now it’s just ... awkward between them

someone who she didn’t get along with before but now they’re pals

unlikely friends!

a ride or die friendship

a confidant .. hit me with those 12 am late night heart to hearts with no filter NO CAP!

someone who ratted her out for vandalizing

hook ups  wld be fun ! tinder matches, one night stands etc. 

someone who axel just completely fucked over in some way (romantic or platonic) 

truly anything i am dwn for ! thnk u and good night

[snarkandsarcasmftw]

2020

Uh oh, it’s time for the cranky smol one to get sappy af. Prepare yourselves. Because yeah, I’m gonna get sappy.

This past year has been… To put it bluntly, it was one hell of a ride. I moved from state to state after spending the past two years taking care of my mother, I lost important people in my life (some through my own stupidity, others simply because they showed their true colors) and I lost a pet that for 13 years roughly, was a huge part of my life. I rescued a cat. I feel like this past year taught me a lot but the most important thing that it taught me was to be thankful for who/what I have in my life, because I might not always have these things/people.

Since there’s a loooot, holy shit so much.. I’ll put a read more.

REGRETS:

First of all, to the one person I’m no longer speaking to/following on here. I just know that you were a blessing in my life while you were around. I know we couldn’t ever really be close friends like we were before everything played out, but I truly hope the best things in life happen to you. You’re a good person, always know that. I hope you’re happier now and I hope that you eventually find and embrace your own inner truth without anxiety or fear. 

Secondly, there were a few people who I misjudged/let go of this past year that maybe I wish I hadn’t. If any of you are reading this, I’m so so so so sorry. I don’t know what made me do it, but I know that I just… Felt like I wasn’t as good as any of you and like I never really fit in, so rather than make you all keep dealing with me, I did what I thought was best and cut the cord. I really wish I hadn’t and I know it’s probably way too late, but I really am sorry. You were great people and I really do miss our talks and stuff. I just felt like I was in the way, so I took myself out. Anxiety is a real bitch and while that’s not an excuse for me just going silent / blocking you guys, it’s the simplest truth. I was in a bad place for a while there and in my own head too much. I’m better now, but I’m fairly sure that it’s too little & too late. So, once again, I’m so so so sorry. 

NEW FRIENDS:

Oh god, where to start? I made so many new friends this year on this blue hell-site. So many. And I’m thankful for every single one of you even if I somehow miss your name. On that note,I’m sorry in advance if I do and I mean nothing by it. Also, these are in absolutely no certain order. If I tried to go alphabetically, I’d probably wind up messing it up.

@xladyxfatex I am so, so, so, so glad you sent me that meme and we started to talk. It has been so much fun rp’ing again, and I’m really enjoying getting to know you better. I love our rp and you’re such a sweet person. I can’t wait to see where this year takes us.

@writtingrose you are an amazing writer and you’re a down to earth and sweet person. I was moved by your Beautiful To Me series (it’s plus size reader, you guys MUST go read it.) and I’m so glad I reached out. I can’t wait to start our rp, if you’re still down for it. I love reading your writing and I can’t wait to get to know you better.

@komaniac I absolutely love your love for Kevin. I really don’t get to talk to you often, but I’ll see your Kevin posts and I’m like sitting on my side of the computer screen silently nodding. Your Kevin content is always making me smile. I love you for that, never change.

@rampagewriting… I can’t remember which of us reached out first, but girl. I am so so glad we’re friends. You’re an amazing and strong person and I love all your fics. I love opening our DM and yelling about things with you, whether it’s Zak Bagans ( we deffo need to go ghost hunting one day, tbh) or any of our other favorites. I’m so glad we’re friends and I hope that we get to be even better friends during 2020.

@the-ville-idiot Wren, I love you. Seriously, I love you. You’re always so bubbly and happy and like… I legit enjoy our random conversations. We have a lot in common.

@doedreamss Ashley, I mean Doe. You’re such a sweetheart and I wish I had half the life experiences you have. I love you. I enjoy talking to you about certain cowboys and certain bad boys. I love your writing, I wish I wrote more like you did, tbh. I hope you never change and I hope we stay friends. If you ever need to talk or want to talk, you’re always welcome in my DM’s.

@robwiethoff I LOVE LOVE YOUR LOVE FOR HANGMAN. I aspire to love something/someone as much, tbh. I know I’m probably annoying af, but honestly, I enjoy talking to you. I hope to get to know you better, you’re a sweetheart. I love reading your writing / hearing your ideas and honestly, just.. I send you hugs.

@adamcolesteeth I’ve really enjoyed talking to you and I genuinely thank you for the random fake fic title prompts, because I’ve really had a blast doing them. I loved your Christmas Luchasaurus fic, it was so much fun to read.

@hardcorewwetrash we may not like the same football teams, ( roll damn tide, lol) but I honestly love to read your posts. You’re a real person and the world needs more of those. You speak your mind. I honestly wish I could just do that sometimes. It’s been so fun talking to you / seeing your posts on the dash. 

@country-believethat-gallowaywwe AHHHH. I LOVE THE TALKS WE HAVE ABOUT DREW. Also, thanks for all the picture inspiration you send me that one time I really, really, really needed it. I think you’re a sweetheart and I hope to get to know you better / have more talks in the future.

@twdeadfanfic I love your fics, first of all. You’re an amazing writer and you blow me away with each new one you post. I know we don’t get to talk often, but I enjoy talking to you. 

@heel-rollins you are a sweetheart. I love talking to you and I wish we got to talk more, tbh. 

@hamstxr I love your posts, they always make me smile. I wish we get to talk more and you seem like a really sweet person. 

@kittysilver86 Kitty, I love you. You’re a positive and sweet person and your writing is so good and so fluffy yet dirty, I love it. I love Ava as a character and I love these little universes you make up. Your posts always make me smile and honestly, I just wanna hug you. I really enjoy being friends with you even though we don’t get to talk often.

@schizoauthoress You’re a really kind person. I really enjoy your posts on my dash and I love the talks we’ve had there. If you ever wanna talk my DM’s are always open. You seem really down to earth and really open and I love that. I hope to get to know you better this year.

@vonschweetz Von, I am so proud of you. You’ve been through a lot and you went above and beyond to rise out of it all and you’re thriving now. You’re a huge inspiration and you’re so freaking sweet that like.. If anyone ever tried to hurt you, I’d probably give them these hands. I love talking to you, I love looking at your edits and I really, really, really love your fics. You always make me smile.

OLD FRIENDS:

@helluvawriter you’re a kind person and I love you so much. You’re a really amazing writer and you’re always so down to earth. You were the first friend I made in the wrestling fandom way back when and even though we don’t get to talk much anymore, I love you and I love our talks when we do. You’re an amazing mother. I hope if I ever get to be a mom, I’m like you. I’m so glad we’re friends.

@andie01  holy shit.. You’re so much fun to talk to. I love that you’re as blunt as me and that we can just DM back and forth about total randomness. I love Beasts, it’s one of my favorite fanfictions of all time. I love you so much. Like.. you’re an inspiration to me and i don’t think you realize that. I’m so glad we’re friends.

@wrestlingismyguiltypleasure First of all, you’re an amazing mother. And I am so happy for you and your little family! I love talking to you, even if we don’t get to talk that much anymore, I enjoy our talks when we do. You’re going to get me to write Alpha!Ethan Carter III yet, I promise. It’s coming. You inspire me and I love the random things you send me to look at. I’m so glad we’re friends.

@kayah16 I wish I was half as creative as you. I love reading your one shots and I love you. You’re a really amazing and kind person and honestly, the world could use more of that. There are so many times I’m having an absolute shit day and I log on and you’ve sent me a recipe or tagged me in something that makes me smile. I wish I could hug you. I hope I can help you as much as you’ve helped me. If you ever need me, I’m here. I’m so glad we’re friends.

@missjenniferb I love the random thirst tags and the dm’s at 1 am, they always make me smile. I love that you tag me in Bucky things now, because that’s kinda how I got so deep into him. I blame you for that. I really have so much fun talking to you because it’s like… the lengths of our dirty minds combined, and i live for that. You always make me smile, I just hope I make you smile too. I’m so glad we’re friends.

@heelsamizayn you’re also another person I started to talk to way back when and honestly, I really, really, really love you. You’re a sweet and blunt person who isn’t afraid to say what she thinks. I love talking to you, whether it be about any of our thirsts or whatever we’re writing or random stuff that irritates us both during the day. I’m so glad we’re friends.

@bo0kitten I really love our talks. We like a lot of the same bands, and you always have these well thought out opinions / facts on things. I love seeing you on my dash and I really wish we got to talk more often. I’m so glad we’re friends.

@chasingeverybreakingwave BB you really didn’t think I was going to forget you.. Noooo. Never. I love talking to you and I love your posts / live blogs. You dragged me kicking and screaming into Jimmy Havoc and I love you for it. You’ve also gotten me into music that I hadn’t ever heard before too. Never change, bb! I’m so glad we’re friends.

@calwitch MOM HI! I love you. And I will totally let you adopt me. You’re kinda stuck with me now. I love your posts and you never fail to encourage me when I need it most. You’re a sweet person and totally down to earth and open. Some of your comments on my fic posts have given me that little nudge when I needed it most and I can’t thank you enough for that. You’re an awesome and fun person and I love that you don’t hold back on anything. I’m so glad we’re friends.

@markostuntthesehoes I absolutely adore you and I love your writing. I love our talks, the things we’ve bounced back and forth over DM’s. You’ve gotten me to really appreciate people that I wasn’t sure about before talking to you. Your posts always make me smile and you’re an absolute gem. I’m so glad we’re friends.

[dyde21]

Grown up

This is based off a prompt from @cakesnomnom of an older Percy and Annabeth living a cute domestic life! I hope you all enjoy it! Warning, bit raunchy humor for my usual work but nothing bad. =P

XxXxXxXxX

“Sally… are you sure? Really, I don’t mind. It’s not a problem…” Annabeth said, running a hand through her hair.

“Annabeth, dear, you look like you’re about to pass out. It’s fine, I’ve done this twice before, I have a bit of practice with it.”

The corner of Annabeth’s mouth quirked up slightly. Leave it to Sally to say things how they are. “We’ve just been busy finishing things with the venue and catering…”

Sally just shook her head across the iris message. “I know some wonderful florists that I can get a deal with. It’s not a large wedding either so it’ll be fine. Just rest up and enjoy it, okay? That’s what I’m here for.”

Annabeth smiled, nodding in defeat. Sally could be as stubborn as her son. 

“Thank you.” She finally said.

Sally just beamed at her. “My pleasure. Now I have to go but tell Percy I say hi, okay? Love you, dear.”

Annabeth nodded. “Love you too, Sally.” She said, waving once before waving her hand through the mist to dismiss it. 

Leaning back in her kitchen chair, Annabeth just let her head fall back for a moment and took a deep breath. She could practically feel the weight fall off her shoulders. One less thing to worry about felt like a gift from the gods. But like, an actual welcome one for once.

Leaning forward she drew a thick line through “flowers” on her latest iteration of her “To-Do” list.

That only left… a lot. 

Standing up, she pushed her chair back and walked over to the window of their small apartment in downtown New York. Scooping up her cooling coffee from the table, she took a sip and just stood in peace for a moment. Some part of her wondered when Percy would be back with the groceries. Things had been a bit hectic since he had proposed to her and she teary-eyed accepted on the beach. Ever since they had graduated, things had thankfully settled down for a bit. It was clear they could never live a truly normal life, but this little apartment had been their own sort of elysium. 

She was happy to discover though that time had done little to dull the burning love she felt her boyfr- fiance. It still felt a little weird calling the dork she had known for so long that. But she couldn’t be happier. Just thinking those words made her chest warm and a jolt of energy coursed from her head to her toes. 

She sighed, taking another sip of her coffee, wishing Percy would hurry up. She should have just ordered out for dinner so they could have stayed home all day together. She toyed with the idea of driving off to vegas, grabbing Sally on the way and having a small impromptu wedding just so they could get it over with and get to their honeymoon where they would have two weeks of nothing but each other’s company to enjoy.

With a sigh, she set down her coffee on the table again and figure she should do a little more work while Percy was out rather than just daydreaming like she did when she was a teenager. She was on her way to thirty now.

The sound of keys opening their door jolted Annabeth to attention, and before she really made the choice to she was standing in front of the door, watching it open and seeing Percy waddle his way through the door with both arms full of groceries threatening to spill over. 

“Hey babe. I’m ho-” He was cut off as she stared at her, a bit caught off guard to see her standing there waiting for him. That only lasted a moment before a grin crept on his face. “Missed me?”

Annabeth just flushed red, realizing how childish it looked. “I thought you might need help with groceries.” She muttered, looking off to the side and ignoring how much her ears burned. 

Stepping forward she grabbed two bags from him. “Well… maybe a little.” She confessed, kissing him on the cheek before walking back and setting the bags down on the counter. 

It had taken quite a while, but Annabeth had forced herself to pick up the habit of being a little more honest with herself and Percy. It was one thing to know your fatal flaw, and it was another to work on it. 

“I should hope so, soon-to-be Mrs. Jackson.” He said, causing another jolt of energy through her system. She was really starting to like the sound of that.

“Well, I missed you too. Especially when picking out laundry detergent. I don’t get why there are a million different brightly colored bottles with vague names on them. I really feel like they’re just confusing us intentionally with all the choices…” He continued to rant with a smile about shopping and Annabeth just stood next to him, unpacking the bags as she bumped her hips into his.

They finished the bags, closing all the cabinets and Percy just turned to her. “You really should come next time, it’s more fun shopping with you anyway. You never forg-” He was cut off as Annabeth had closed the distance and cupped his face with both hands before kissing him.

Percy was surprised, but only for a moment before he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. They kissed in their peaceful kitchen for a few more moments, before Annabeth pulled away and took a deep breath. 

“...I should go shopping more often.” He teased, causing Annabeth to laugh. “Maybe. But for now you should shower. You stink like sweat.”

Percy shrugged. “Not my fault it’s so hot out.” He said, kissing her forehead once before walking towards their room, throwing his shirt over his shoulder as he walked. 

Annabeth leaned around the corner to watch him walk away, her eyes glued to the muscles on his back as he undid his belt. Biting her lip, she considered joining him in the shower too, but shook her head and focused on making some food for lunch. She knew  him well enough by now that when he got out of the shower the first he’d do would be to start pawing through the cabinets and start devouring whatever he could get open first. Settling for a simple sandwich and chips, she made his just the way he liked it, humming to herself. Compared to the stress she felt this morning while working on plans, right now she just felt at peace. This was on the one place she found she truly could find peace.

“You know me so well.” Percy’s voice sounded from behind her, as she felt his arms wrap around his waist and pull her closer, resting his chin on her shoulder as he looked down at the food. 

Annabeth snickered, leaning her head back slightly to rest against his. “Not the most complicated puzzle out there.” She teased. Some stray drops of water dripped from his hair and she pouted. “You’re still soaked! Move, you’re gonna get me wet.”

Percy leaned back, raising an eyebrow with a troublemaker smile at her. It dawned on her a moment later but Percy just innocently took a bite of his sandwich and grabbed his plate and started walking towards the couch. “Love you.” 

“Love you too.” She mumbled, annoyed that the smile on her face was truly stopping her from getting upset at the brat she would be marrying soon.

He had flipped on the game and was eating his sandwich happily like he had no cares in the world. 

Right when she sat down, without even thinking he just lifted the plate so she could rest his legs over his lap, a habit she had picked up some time as she leaned against the side of the couch.

“Oh, your mom says hi, by the way. She said she’s going to take care of the florist for us.”

Percy looked over, a mix of emotions on his face. “That’s great but I feel bad…”

Annabeth just shrugged. “I do kinda too, but I really do think she wants to do it. Probably her way of helping out, plus she probably would do a better job than either of us.” 

Percy nodded. “That’s true…”

“Besides I’m pretty sure she was happier that we’re getting married than even we are.” She teased with a laugh, and Percy laughed in turn. 

“She had been nagging me for months, and for the whole month afterwards she practically started every conversation with “I can’t believe you did it finally.” 

Annabeth just laughed, dropping a chip on the floor accidentally. “True, you did take a while…” She teased.

Percy shot her a mild glare. “I was waiting for the right moment. You know how much I love you… I just… didn’t want to screw it up.”

Annabeth was touched by his sincerity, pausing for a moment. “You’re cute when you’re honestly.”

Percy just rolled his eyes. “Fine, I won’t do it again.”

Annabeth just smiled, moving her plate to the side as she sat up properly, kissing his cheek. “I mean it, it was really sweet that you cared so much. But I am happy that you’ll be my husband soon finally.” She said, looking down and twisting the ring on her finger happily. 

Percy blushed red, looking away and nodding. “Me too.”

Annabeth just shifted to rest her head on her shoulder, curling her legs up under her. 

Annabeth wasn’t sure how long they laid on that couch together, the fan gently blowing on them as they pretended all their responsibilities didn’t exist. It wasn’t like she had planned to avoid being productive for the rest of the day, but she felt into a comfortable groove with Percy and didn’t exactly want to break it. Everyone else could wait a day.

When Annabeth woke up draped across Percy’s chest, she just smiled, burying.her face into his shirt a little more, enjoying the familiar scent.

Their legs were tangled up, and she wasn’t sure when they had switched from idle chit chat to napping together, but she sure as Hades didn’t mind. 

“Perce…” She mumbled half asleep. It took a few more attempts before he finally woke up enough to look at her bleary eyed. “Hm..?” 

“We fell asleep. Again.” She muttered.

“So…?” He said through a yawn.

“We missed dinner, and if we keep sleeping we’ll be up super early tomorrow.” She explained, though her voice betrayed how much she’d love to stay here with him.

“So?” He repeated, a sleepy smirk on his face.

Annabeth just headbutted his chest gently. “Shush, we need to get up, and I’m getting hungry. Pizza?”

That seemed to do the trick as Percy was suddenly a little more awake. “Fine, but only because I’m hungry. I expect you to be right back in my arms when we get back.”

Annabeth was too tired to hide her blush. “There’s no place I’d rather be. Now let’s get going.”

She said, crawling up him slightly to share a brief kiss with him before she forced herself to her feet. Looking down at her still dishelved fiance as he looked up at her like she was an angel, Annabeth realized things were good. That “To-Do” list felt a little shorter, and she just knew things would work out in the end.

Offering a hand up, she helped her lazy fiance sit up. “Go fix your hair and get changed so we can go out. And wipe your chin, you drool when you sleep.”

[fearfearer]

i have caught up with the magnus archives.

when i started listening, i started a text file to note down any thoughts/confusion/analysis/jokes i had as i listened. i isolated a few bits of it into standalone text posts that i already posted, but here is the whole thing, my long-form liveblog

thoughts on the magnus archive as i listen

jonny sims gives an impassioned performance of someone's statement-- a diegetic impassioned performance, as we witness it being interrupted and resuming-- and follows it up with his own judgement of merciless doubt. classic. why the impassioned performance? he's just a nerd. i dearly hope this is the fandom consensus

every episode ends at the perfect volume to which i have adjusted it, and then i start the next episode and it blares in my ears. i think the volume of the intro must be like 1.75x the volume of the rest

*makes a serious effort to listen to and remember the name and date at the beginning of the statement recording* *forgets completely within 2 minutes*

i saw a fanart of gerard keay and learned [1] that he must be a good guy after all, since they drew him lookin cute, and [2] that his name is not, in fact, jared key. what, am i supposed to be looking at the transcripts? understanding names properly? in my defense, jonny sims clearly articulates "Jared" when he says it. maybe i'm not as good at decoding british accents as i thought. [footnote added in later: ok good i'm not the only one who hears "Jared" and thinks "Jared" instead of "Gerard"]

when gerard keay was described as having numerous eye tattoos on his joints, obviously my first thought was, "including the ankle? so he's count olaf?" because that's definitely a way count olaf would disguise his eye tattoo: by tattooing eyes everywhere else too and becoming The Eye Tattoo Guy. anyway this is part of why i was not at first inclined to think favorably of gerard keay

"The first thing about this statement that makes me dubious is that it comes from a fellow academic." if you know shit fuck you

it has come to my attention that there are ships. makes sense... after all, everyone in every fandom is horny af*. i'm not in deep enough to ship yet but naturally i'm keeping an eye on it

*horny af for depictions of intimacy, sexual or otherwise, but mostly sexual

definitely feel like i need to be writing down every name i hear because they're never not cropping back up but for now i'll just let it all wash over me

so sasha has been replaced with not-sasha, huh? pretty sure. though i'm not good at distinguishing voices. but that sounded pretty different, and my listening comprehension wrt that table isn't that bad. <<as time passes i doubt myself more and more on this point but not enough to go back and listen again

"You believe me?" "Yes, I think I do." (smashes button labeled "CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT" and a loud buzzer sounds)

IT'S MICHAEL!!! i hope michael is a long-term good guy... he's not seeming like a good guy right now... he says he's mostly neutral. vaguely recall seeing a tumblr post about michael in the recent past but that didn't give me any hints and i don't remember it well anyway. michael's voice is good though. good laugh

i'm not good at visualizing characters based on descriptions, let alone based merely on their voices, so the only image i have in my head of jonathan is a furrowed brow

i'm on episode 49 and i don't like jonathan's distrust of his colleagues... i don't understand why his immediate suspicion was that gertrude's murder was an inside job. hasn't he just learned firsthand that the institute is not impenetrable? it's not inconceivable that someone could enter and shoot her and leave. especially when it took place in underground tunnels connected to unknown locations.

there's a good Old Lady Voice Combo on episode 62

so agnes montague was heavily cursed... that's my conclusion after episode 67

elias seems to tell jonathan to "get some sleep" a lot. though it IS generally good advice

episode 70, 9 minutes, 41 seconds: jonny sims's cell phone goes off in the background

small brain: ghost ship medium brain: ghost train galaxy brain: dirt train

i wanted to see if there was fanart of michael so i looked it up... i might as well have googled "blonde slenderman"

sweeney todd mentions tally: II

for some reason, hearing michael described this time as "a tall man with curly blonde hair and an unnerving laugh" puts an image in my head without my consent, and that image is chris fleming. now, he's not quite blonde, is he? but that doesn't change my casting decision, which is now set in stone. hope he does a good british accent

"YES i know what a meme is."

why is melanie the first/only one to notice that sasha is now not-sasha? is it because she is experienced in firsthand paranormal encounters (whereas the archivists are experienced in decidedly SECONDhand paranormal encounters, save for the worm debacle)? oh, my question was answered handily in the next episode. ok.

the replacer definitely limits its glamour to everyone except one person just so that it can be amused by the distress and confusion of the one person who can see the truth. that must also be the reason it chooses a completely different appearance. it surely COULD replace a person with their exact likeness; it just uses another face for fun, and to be satisfied that it can get away with it.

this table has appeared in like 10 episodes... Guess It's Crucial

jonny sims yelling while swinging an axe. jonny sims goes through michael's door (eyes emoji)

the idea of the replacer killing jonathan and not even replacing him brings to mind "AT LEAST RIDE IT YOU ASSHOLE"

wasn't expecting to hear from leitner at this point... he's dropping tons of lore here. too much lore. so much is happening. i have to say i kinda like it better when the stakes are not quite so high as this.

so at the end of season 2, tim and martin believe that jonny sims killed this guy, who they probably don't know is leitner... and we the audience believe that elias, now almost certainly a double murderer, has very quietly stabbed leitner to death. do i the audience believe it? i'll keep an open mind for now. things are not always as they seem. except when sasha was replaced with not-sasha, which was exactly as it seemed. [footnote added in later: looks like elias being a double murderer was exactly as it seemed.]

so jonathan sims is the name of the actual guy voicing jonathan sims. it's a cecil situation. so are they someday going to go back and retcon every episode to change his name, like with palmer/baldwin? or does jonathan sims just not mind being a character as well? as long as it doesn't devolve into RPS i guess it's fine. if there's fanart of jonmartin i hope it doesn't depict them as their actors bc that's too close for comfort to RPS

there's been a truly hellish c*ndy cr*sh ad that has played like 40 times between episodes and i'm pretty well convinced to never ever play that curséd game

elias has some serious blackmail for daisy, huh? that's heavy, having police characters in fiction who do extrajudicial killings. life imitates art imitates life

"i'm not on drugs or anything. ...what? i could be on drugs!"

he said "ample opportunity" but like "amplopportunity" with emphasis on the "plop"

it was obviously elias who delivered the statement to jonathan in hiding, because he knew he would record it despite not being at work... bc he's a nerd

so if gerard keay has eye tattoos, does that mean he also serves the uhh the observing or whatever? [verdict arrived at later: no he just has those because he's cool. or because his mom tattooed him. ok almost certainly the latter.]

"what do i feed it?" obviously you feed it filled up cassette tapes, jon... nothing has ever been more obvious

it's okay that jon very stupidly burned his hand to a crisp. you don't need even one hand to turn on a cassette recorder. you can do that with your nose

so if these people who are wax figures serve the desolation, and not-sasha was spending time at the wax museum, does that mean there is a connection between the replacer and desolation? i think that would make sense, since both seem to enjoy making people feel bad feelings. also i'm starting to think that agnes was not actually cursed, but that would mean she burned that guy on purpose after being nice to him... was she just really selfish in that way? using him to experience Dating and mutilating him when he crossed the line, so she punished him as a cruel goodbye? or just building up his hopes so they will be even more fun to burn down when the time comes?

"perhaps doing a bit of mindless filing will help distract you." honestly that is something i would like to do in real life... i do enjoy a good mindless task. though doing mostly mindless tasks 40 hours a week is not a fun time for me lately. but it would be better if i didn't have to listen to bad radio at the same time

what?! the friendly midnight acrobat described in episode 90 sounds totally non-threatening and i hope there's fanart of it. was that gym just jared the bone turner helping people live their twisted athletic fetishes?! [footnote added in later: YES! god i hope people draw these turn-boned creatures optimized for their gymnastic of choice. show me a person who remade their body specifically for the balance beam]

so the power endowed in the archivist by the viewening is that when you sit them down across from someone they want to interview, that someone will invariably spill SOME beans and think it was their idea. maybe? [footnote added in later: yes.]

ok so Michael "The Distortion" Michael, of fractals and golden ringlets, has specifically tormented this other michael, lichtenberg michael?

jon is clearly moved to ask questions by an external force because he's a sensible guy who would not try to ask questions when daisy is holding a gun on him

i think basira has precisely the same accent as estelle... or maybe just a similarly staccato way of speaking (or of line-reading)

[episode 93] elias: (holding jon's face between two pieces of bread) what are you? jon: (sigh) the archivist...

well, they did something i didn't expect them to do with this show: create a compelling in-universe reason for jon to read statements aloud. because obviously until now there was none.

jon did the cockney accents. (insert emoji for indescribable feeling)

here's the purpose of the pit: if we all climb in the muddy pit together at night, the earthquake will only jiggle us gently and no one will be inside collapsing buildings to be crushed. it's only logical

ok i was gonna say this before but why is jon still at georgie's house??? he's not on the run for murder anymore, right? he has an apartment with all his stuff in it, right? [footnote added in later: i still don't understand why it was like this.]

i will confess that usually once the credits start to roll i zip to the next episode, but this time i zoned out a bit and it's really funny that jonny sims reads out "Rate and Review Us Online" in his archivist voice

a third michael. this one is probably already dead though. unless distortion michael takes over this guy's body or something. oh, jon came in at the end of the episode to say precisely this.

was episode 100 mostly improvised? if so, that would be appropriate. but i wouldn't put it past them to write every stuttering bit of those four statements

MARTIN...................................................................................................................................................... (typed this as martin gave some of his own money to the lady who expected payment for a statement)

i'm skipping 100.1 through 100.5 for now... just for now.

ok so michael is michael but not lightning mike michael, and two of these michaels are dead, but one is something that has never been alive nor dead. got it

everyone's morality is much more gray than i at first anticipated. the only people who seem to be solidly and earnestly on the side of good, as much as possible, are jonathan and martin and basira and georgie and maybe tim?

so michael just died and was overtaken by pseudo-helen? neo-helen? ok. that's kinda too bad, as i enjoyed michael's terrible laugh and unpredictability. but the feeling of michael being revealed as having been michael shelley feels somewhat similarly disappointing (but a bit less staggeringly groan-inducing) to when the mysterious koro-sensei in assassination classroom was revealed to have been a twink in his past. because of course he was. (that's when i stopped reading that manga. too precipitously dumb to sustain my suspension of disbelief.) it's like, ok, you had an interestingly mysterious character going on, but having solved the mystery, what interestingness is left? not much. fortunately this was resolved by promptly ending the existence of this michael and instead introducing new and improved helen

ooh martin has the asky ability too huh? nice [footnote added in later: he only used it this one time, and i'm wondering if they did that and then forgot and decided that jon is actually the only one with asky ability.] [[another footnote added in much later: How did i manage to mistake jon’s voice for martin’s voice? How?]]

the way martin said "kumo ga tabeteiru" in episode 110... alexander j newall does not watch anime

"I'm a book." ~Gerard Keay, 2017

it was a few episodes ago now but i noticed that when jon clearly articulated "Jared" referring to gerard, elias was like "Jared? you mean Gerard Keay?" (pronouncing it like "Gerard.") there is definitely a disagreement between these two (actors) about how to pronounce that name

the eye, the spiral, the end, the stranger, the lonely, the desolation, the slaughter, the vast, the buried, the dark, the corruption, the web, the flesh, the hunt.

Q: why would anyone want one of these rituals to succeed? A: it's their fetish. it's their sexual fetish

ok time to make up names for each possible apocalypse. these are the real and true names according to me, who knows such things: the eye - the viewening the spiral - down the drain the end - the really end end the stranger - oh wait we know this one. it's the unknowing. the lonely - the alonening the desolation - Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Lightless Flame the slaughter - world war all the vast - the expansion the buried - the grand lahar (or the Smothering) the dark - the extinguishment the corruption - the Great Rot the web - the spidening the flesh - the smorgasbord (or the Eatening) the hunt - come and get it

gerry said there was no dark god of indigestion, but i can tell you from personal experience that there is. though it's true that there is also fear involved, so maybe no separate pantheon is necessary

i sense that there is a battle between people who say it like "gotta get myself oriented" and "i feel disoriented" (as feels correct/natural to me) and people who say "gotta get myself orienTATed" and "i feel disorienTATed," and this podcast falls SQUARELY on the latter team. they've said it like 20 times

idk why he has to be such a dick to helen. jeez

the guy who coded his mind into a computer, which of the 14 was that? the corruption? the stranger? gotta be the corruption, but that doesn't fit perfectly with its rot/bugs aesthetic...

speed -> speeding -> sped. heed -> heeding -> hed. thus i decree

in my dream i listened to a whole episode of this show, narrated by gertrude, and i was like "whoa this is cool" and i went to write it down but i was still in the dream and writing doesn't work in dreams :( also any successful writing in dreams doesn't transfer to real life paper :( the only snippet i remember: “...in his white mouth, which had known only bread...”

"I, uh..." Jonathan Sims, a thousand times, 20XX

martin's job is PLAINLY to distract elias and elias barges in like "martin. i see you're trying to distract me." and martin's like "maybe i am!"

o, jonny took a breath. that's good

he wasn't hooked up to an EKG or anything? you spend long enough with no heartbeat that they're just like "i guess we can turn this off"

this episode about philosophical zombies sounds a lot like that NPC meme from a year or two ago... and it makes me kind of uncomfortable, the way this person inspects others to determine whether they are True Minds or Impostors based on their emotional expressions, their eyes... because i don't always do the correct or appropriate expressions, and would someone judge me as being a non-person who is trying and failing to imitate human emotions?

i generally don't enjoy ships that have more-or-less explicit canon support, but i can't say jon/martin isn't good

melanie blaming jon isn't right... no one had a better plan to stop the unknowing, did they? (they didn't!) didn't all of them agree on the plan and understand that they might die? (they did!) she's just imposing survivor's guilt upon him because he survived for supernatural reasons. but it's not like he eagerly embraced his new supernaturalness, or even asked for it outright! i think she's being unreasonable. i didn't like her insistence on trying to kill elias either, even though elias is a huge dick. what's with her?

wait, peter lukas is the lonely? (meme where calculations and equations whiz past me)

jonathan baa'd

oh, see. the bullet is making melanie act without reason. i get it now. can't say i think they had the best approach to getting the bullet out, but all's well that ends well (???)

martin is being prohibited from talking to jon >:I martin is on a first-name basis with peter lukas >:I...

martin grumbles, "i don't like being manipulated..." while obviously and continuously allowing himself to be manipulated

jon is afraid of and uncomfortable with what he's becoming, at least to a degree, right? but he seems to be going about his duties (i.e. feeding the eye) with vigor and without reluctance. is he really that motivated by his own desire to know and understand? who is he doing this for? is the eye's influence on him so strong that "doing what the eye wants" seems to manifest as what HE wants to do?

"He'd place it over the one he wore already, and he would larf and larf and larf" (from breacon’s statement... just heard it like this for some reason)

deep water could be the domain of both the buried and the vast, because you could lose yourself in the vast ocean, but experience the physical effects of being buried under thousands of feet of water...

so tom han was an avatar of the flesh but he ultimately died after being tortured by the spiral... right?

"we're not people, though, are we? not anymore." close enough, i'd say.

jonathan has deployed THREE "I, uh..."s in episode 131 alone and i want to smack him in real life. FOUR NOW. JON. JONATHAN SIMS THE REAL ACTOR. LISTEN... quit falling back on your "I, uh..."s. and if they're written into the script i'll punch whoever did that too. total of five in a single episode. never utter "I, uh..." again

i hope whoever's throat is okay after doing bone turner voice for a whole statement.

jonny sure needs saving quite often, doesn't he.

peter lukas being a slightly chipper advocate for becoming a follower of the lonely is very strange

neil lagorio and his whole cinematographic history is made up but they namedropped kevin costner, who is real

VERY, VERY GOOD laugh at 23:44 of episode 136

melanie getting her session recorded... i was doing audio transcription for a while and you'd definitely come across bits of therapy-type sessions that very much seemed like they should have been confidential.

i wonder if the eye ultimately turned its back on gertrude and allowed her to be killed. if jon could survive a collapsing building, could gertrude not have survived a couple of bullets? wouldn't the difference be the protection of the eye? [footnote added in later: of course now i see who turned their back on whom.]

i'm somewhat heartened to learn that agnes montague was, in fact, a heavily cursed individual, though she seemed to have embraced it to a degree... and she wasn't made of wax.

i like that jon now includes helen in his office politics briefing

basira's like "Edmund Halley" and jon's like "Halley's comet?" (like “Hale-ey”) and two minutes later jon's like "Edmund Hally" (not "Hale-y")

"What's this?" "OH... That's, uh... that's... my rib..." "Right." (tiny clunk of rib being set down)

so giving a statement puts a curse on you... or is it "having a statement extracted / being compelled" that puts a curse on you? and the resulting curse, the fear it reawakens, is that good for the eye, or is that good for the powers that initially caused the fear?

well, i heard a homestuck reference in one of the patreon names at the beginning of an episode, and who is surprised? of course, i'm not one to talk

episode 144- the english think their summer is bad... as a professional "hot weather is bad" person, i feel doubtful, because if the sky is grey, it is not as hot as it Could Be, and therefore one should quit one's bitching

first statement about the extinction... interesting. but hearing martin be a jerk to daisy makes me sad :(

the powers never tell avatars exactly what they need to be doing, but that's just concerning the means. the ends are always clear: the power gets fed. and all of the powers feed on fear. also jonny is horny for statements. i hope, but also doubt, that his harmful behavior is at least partially the spider's doing. oh, i see now that it's not. yeah.

jon wants to eat fresh and delicious statements produced just for him, instead of reconstituting the dusty old statements already in the archive

episode 148 - samson stiller gets a crush. but in all seriousness, is he becoming an avatar of the eye but like, not institute-related? is that a thing? i guess that would make sense, but still seems weird

episode 149 - considering ring -> rang -> rung, we seem to have stumbled upon spin -> span -> spun, and the compasses gently span around (9:40)

does martin have loneliness powers now? it's sad that he is getting lonely... as a lonely person, i know.

the lady on TV in episode 150 was just speaking simlish.

i really want jon to overcome his urge to forcefully take statements because i want to be able to root for him still

british podcasts really have a leg up over american podcasts, at least among american audiences, purely based on their interesting and varied accents

i can't say the gravedigger's envy doesn't make me myself feel like going to sleep in the cold dirt forever. but bad depression lately is also a factor, so

jonathan having to settle for reading already archived statements instead of harvesting fresh ones is exactly like a vampire (not the kind detailed in this series) who has to choose between hunting people to suck their blood or drinking bags of donated blood from a (near-endless) stockpile. there's an ethical choice with a clear right answer, but the urge is also understandable

jon following up gertrude's tape with just "fuck" was really good. now he's like "ok martin. let's run away together"

spent all day at work thinking about how i can't fuckin believe the first thing jon did when he heard how to escape the institute was to go tell martin like "there will be a great cost, but... we can elope now"

also if tim was still around jon would tell him the way out and he would do it right then and there, i'm 100% sure. like before jon was finished explaining tim would be like "the eyes? (grabs scissors) got it. (does the deed)"

earlier today i was just thinking that we would almost certainly hear gertrude's death on tape, especially given that we now understand tape recorders are wont to turn on autonomously whenever something important is happening. anyway then i came home and heard gertrude's death on tape

peter, as an avatar of the lonely, is easy to play like a cheap whistle because as someone who clearly hates spending time around other people, he is not keen to the symptoms of being played.

elias is like "you'll have to go into the lonely to get him" and jon's probably thinking "but then at least we'll be in the lonely... ~*~*~together~*~*~"

i think martin's whole thing for most of the series has been that he sounds a little doofy, for lack of a better word, and people constantly underestimate his intelligence. and now he has played peter lukas like a cheap whistle and forced me to realize that by taking for granted that he was being successfully manipulated by peter lukas, i too was underestimating martin... and his pure love for jon <:3c no but seriously i even remember explicitly making a mental note to remember that martin is smartin but it fell by the wayside as my emotions (of sadness that jon and martin seemed to be growing further apart) took precedent

i work a non-verbal job just doing mundane tasks and that gives me all the time in the world to think about things like "if they were to have jon and martin reunite in a tearful embrace, how would you convey the physical contact in an audio format? like, whap? soft thud?"

jon enters the lonely and voiceover peter comes in to try and factcheck the ship

i guess it makes sense that peter would try to do the ritual for the lonely all by himself

did he kill peter by asking him to death? or did peter just self-destruct rather than be forced to answer?

the way jon snapped martin out of the loneliness just by making him look at his face... that's powerful. as a lonely person, i know that the most cry-making thing you can realize when you feel alone is that another person is, in fact, there with you

martin went for a walk and now it's thunderstorming. i wonder if he came back as soon as it started raining and now he's standing nearby invisibly as jon reads the intimidating magnus statement. ...I GUESS NOT

i plan to read through the transcripts of all the episodes (as it’s faster than re-listening, though i might selectively re-listen) so that i may better understand some things and answer some questions in this post that i didn’t ultimately resolve. i can’t say i was paying 101% attention all the way through. also april is very far away