#hopefully it will be up before the end of the week

[mattyriddlesbitch]

cliche but I’m a sucker for those tropes where she’s the dare matheo’s friends made him bet on and she finds out

I love those tropes too, it hurts, but is so good. Thank youuuuuu! <3

Bet

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Warnings: Angsty, one use of 'shitty', I think that's it.

You and Mattheo had been dating for just 3 months now. It had been going great. Your dates were always really fun and nice. You always seemed to be hanging out and kissing and holding hands and just being a regular grossly cute couple. It was all so perfect.

That was until you were coming up the stairs of the Astronomy Tower to hang out with the boys. They were up there already and talking and you heard your name so you stopped to listen.

“It's been 3 months with (Y/N). I guess that means you win.” You heard Enzo say, just making you confused.

“I can't believe you did it. I thought you'd get bored of her after 2 weeks.” Theo added.

“You guys should already know how seriously I take bets. I like proving you guys wrong.” Mattheo, your boyfriend, said.

“I think you just like taking our money.” Draco said and the boys laughed.

You felt sick. You were a bet?

You stood on the stairs for a moment, just taking in the conversation and if you paid attention, you could even hear the money being exchanged, the little clinking of coins as they were being passed.

You turned around, hurrying down the stairs as quietly as you could. How humiliating. How could you face any of them again?

You actually really liked Mattheo. He was so sweet and made you laugh and made you feel appreciated. And now you just felt sick and horrible. How could someone fake all that?

You went back to your dorm, unsure if you should hurl or cry. Instead, you settled for going to sleep, not even bothering to change as you settled into your bed, hiding under the blankets. Was it embarrassing to throw yourself a pity party over a boy toying with your feelings? Yes. But right now, you didn't care. You just wanted to sleep and hopefully wake up to either that conversation being a cruel dream or Mattheo never existing.

It took a lot of tossing and turning, but you managed to get to sleep. You woke up in the morning all sweaty and still upset. You didn't wanna get out of bed. You knew getting up meant that you'd have to see him and probably confront him and you didn't know if you were ready for that.

You forced yourself out of bed anyways, knowing there were still classes today, and as much as you would've loved to sulk in bed, you couldn't miss lessons. You got ready for the day, showering and getting dressed in your uniform before heading out.

Only Mattheo was in front of your door when you opened it, holding a pastry and some drink with a look of concern. You froze, not sure what to do.

“Morning, princess. We missed you last night.” He said, offering you the food and drink.

“I was too tired.” You lied, stepping out of your dorm and closing the door. You accepted the food and drink knowing you'll probably just end up throwing it away anyways. Your stomach still felt too sick to eat.

“You could've told me, angel. I would've just spent the night with you. You know I'd rather spend time with you.” He said with a soft smile.

“Sorry. I wasn't really thinking.” You said and started making your way to your class.

Mattheo was quick to follow. “It's alright. I was just worried. Plus, I missed you.” He said as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

The contact made you feel gross. It didn't feel right anymore. But you kept your mouth shut for now. You didn't want to make a scene before classes. You were already embarrassed as is, if everyone knew you were just a bet because you fought with Mattheo in front of everyone, you'd probably die.

Classes were awful. They probably would've been normal, even good, if that pit in your stomach would've left. You felt too sick to eat other than a few bites at lunch. You locked yourself in your dorm after classes and tried busying yourself with schoolwork. It was really hard to concentrate, though. Merlin, in only 3 months, you had a few pictures of him in your dorm. Not to mention a shitty necklace he bought that hung around your neck. You took it off and tossed it to your bed so you wouldn't be seeing it every time you looked down at your work. Even put the pictures away in a drawer so you could focus. 

You got so focused in schoolwork, a good distraction from your asshole boyfriend. You still felt horrible, but at least you weren't thinking of him as you answered questions about the history of magic. You didn't even notice you missed dinner as you sat at your desk, throwing yourself into work instead of sulking.

You got pulled out of your little world as someone knocked on the door. You looked at the door for a second before standing up and opening it to see Mattheo again, standing there with a plate of food and a smile.

“Hey, princess. You missed dinner, so I brought you something. I don't want you starving.” He said.

“Thanks. I was just caught up in some schoolwork.” You said as you took the plate, this time it was the truth. Even just looking at the food made you sick. Why was he being so sweet when this is all a lie?

“Is everything okay?” He asked and you noticed you were making a sour face at the food.

“I don't feel like eating.” You said simply.

“Why? Are you feeling sick?” He asked, reaching a hand out to feel your forehead for a fever.

You stopped his hand by pushing his arm away. “I'm not sick.”

He frowned at you not letting him touch you. “Then what's going on?” His eyes looked over you, stopping around your chest. “You aren't wearing my necklace.” He noted, knowing you haven't taken it off since he gave it to you.

You couldn't do it anymore. “Was I just a bet?” You asked, matching his frown.

His face softened slightly as his mouth opened to say something, but no words came out. He didn't wanna say ‘yes’ but he didn't wanna lie either.

It answered your question anyways and you felt tears stinging your eyes at the confirmation. “Don't bother me ever again.” You said and shoved the plate of food at him, letting go before he could even react to grab it, making it fall to the floor as you closed the door on him.

He stood outside your door, trying to gather his thoughts as to what to do next. You may have been just a bet to start with, but, Merlin, help him, he was falling hard for you.

You curled up in your bed again, too depressed to even think about continuing your schoolwork.

The next few days were spent trying to avoid Mattheo and his friends while getting through classes. You saw him try to approach you several times, but you dodged him every time. You missed him and you hated yourself for even thinking that. He hurt you. Why did you miss him?

It wasn't until almost a week later, when you came back to your dorm after classes, you opened the door to see Mattheo leaning against your desk, looking at one of the pictures you shoved in a drawer. You dropped your bag to the floor beside you with a sigh as he looked up at you, standing up straight as he put the picture down.

You crossed your arms as you looked at him. “I told you not to bother me again.”

“I'm sorry.” He said, taking a few steps towards you. “I'll do anything you want but that. I know you're upset. Kick me, punch me, hex me. Do whatever will make you feel better. But I can't just leave you alone.” He looked like he wanted to touch you, but put his hands in his pockets instead.

“I don't care, just leave.” You said, gesturing to the open door.

He went over to the door, but instead of leaving, he just closed it. “I'll be honest, completely honest. Yes, you were a bet. It was supposed to be something fun for me and my friends, but instead, I ended up getting feelings for you.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “So what? You want me to forget that what you did hurt me? You want me to pretend that you didn't have the intentions to play with my feelings and use me for fun?” The hurt and anger was obvious in your tone.

“No. You're right. What I did was awful and I shouldn't have done it.” He said, running a hand through his hair as he looked at the floor.

“So what do you want from me?” You asked, your tone was still harsh.

“You. I want you.” His answer was immediate as he took another step towards you.

You looked away, sighing again in frustration. “I can't just forget and ignore what you did.”

“Please, (Y/N). I'll do anything.” He said, now reaching out for your hand but you step back out of his reach.

“How much?” You asked.

“What?” He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he let his hand fall by his side again.

“How much? How much did you get from the bet?”

He hesitated before answering, obviously not fond of the question. “100 galleons.”

“Did you get it? You win?” You asked, the harshness in your tone causing him to shift uncomfortably.

“Yeah.” He said, putting his hand back in his pocket.

“You mean it? For real? About you catching feelings?” You asked a little softer.

“I do.” He really didn't wanna say more than you asked in case he said the wrong thing, so he bit his tongue to not ramble about his feelings towards you.

You stared at him as you thought about what to do. He hurt you, but you actually had feelings for him too. “Was anything else a lie?”

“No. Everything I said and did was all me. No lies, no acts. I was being me. The real me.” He took another step towards you.

You let out a long exhale as you thought. If he was being genuine, then you guys could restart properly. But he wasn't genuine before, so why should you believe him now?

“Please.” He said softly as he stepped towards you again, nearly toe-to-toe with you.

You closed your eyes and sighed, knowing what you were about to do was stupid. “On conditions.” You say and open your eyes to look at him.

His face immediately lit up as he nodded. “Anything.”

“I want the money.” You said and he smiled ever so slightly and nodded. “Not fair you played me and got money for it. Not fair for your friends to get it back either since they made the bet with you.”

“Absolutely. I was gonna take you somewhere nice with it and maybe buy you something, but whatever you want.” He said.

You almost smiled at the thought, but wanted to keep up being angry with him. “I want an apology and love letter. Handwritten until your hand hurts.”

“Fair.” He nodded, his smile getting bigger.

“I want apologies from everyone involved with the bet too.” You added.

He tilted his head in thought. “I can do that.”

“Better get started.”

“Right after this.” He said and cupped your cheeks, leaning in and kissing you gently. “You're so cute when you're upset.”

“I'm about to be downright adorable if you don't get to work now, Riddle.”

“Fine.” He said, stepping back towards your door. “You're gonna love me tomorrow, though! Just wait!” He smiled at you as he left your dorm.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff

@soaked4abby @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @motherfing-stargirl @brittney-121

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @mattheoriddlesbitch @acornacreacure @opheliamalfoy236

@demieyesore @akira1246 @queenshu

Let me know if you wanna be added!

[mysunshinetemptress]

Wanted, Unwanted

Leah Williamson x McCabe!Reader Warnings: None this is mainly the backstory

Leah's stomach churned, a mix of excitement and guilt bubbling within her. "A hundred quid," she blurted voice trembling slightly, the number seeming arbitrary in the face of her sudden nervousness.

Katie's eyes gleamed. "Deal. But it's gotta be believable. Dates, compliments, the whole shebang. And no backing out, Williamson, or you double the bet."

The rest of the night was a blur for Leah. Laughter felt hollow, and jokes fell flat. All she could think about was your smile, the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed, the nervous way you bit your lip when you were focused. Finally, the night ended, and Leah was left alone.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind. Leah made a conscious effort to spend time with you, initiating conversations during training, texting you funny memes, and even asking you to have lunch together a couple of times. You, ever trusting and eager for friendship, soaked it all up. You confided your anxieties about playing time, your struggles to connect with the other girls, and your admiration for Leah's confidence and leadership on the pitch. Leah listened intently, a pang of guilt twisting in her gut with every shared detail.

Leah tossed and turned in bed, sleep refusing to come. The guilt that had simmered for weeks boiled over in the quiet darkness. Katie's taunting face flashed before her eyes, the carefree challenge morphing into a cruel reminder of Leah's manipulation.

The more you confided in Leah, the heavier the charade felt. Your genuine affection, so evident in the way your eyes lit up when you talked about your dreams, was a constant reproach. Leah initially reveled in the power of having you wrapped around her finger, a twisted satisfaction born from the win over Katie. But it had curdled into a gnawing sense of betrayal.

The next morning, training felt like an exercise in self-torture. Every laugh you shared with Leah felt laced with deceit. The playful teasing she used to initiate now felt like emotional jabs. You, oblivious, misinterpreted her forced distance as shyness and tried to draw her in further.

"Hey, are you okay?" you asked, concern etched on your face. "You seem a little off lately."

Leah opened her mouth to offer a practised smile, but the words wouldn't come. The weight of the lie threatened to suffocate her. Should she confess? The thought of shattering your trust was terrifying, yet continuing the charade felt even worse.

Leah stared at your worried face, the knot of guilt in her stomach tightening to the point of pain. A million justifications and excuses swirled in her head, but none of them felt substantial enough. Katie's taunting voice echoed in her mind, "No backing out, Williamson..." The thought of doubling down on the bet was repulsive.

Taking a deep breath, Leah forced a shaky smile. "Honestly? Yeah, things have just been a bit hectic lately. Family stuff, you know?" It was a lame excuse, but hopefully vague enough to buy her some time.

Your brow furrowed. "Is everything okay? Do you want to talk about it?" The genuine concern in your eyes sent a fresh wave of guilt crashing over Leah. You deserved honesty, not fabricated drama.

"Maybe later," Leah mumbled, averting your gaze. The playful banter you usually enjoyed felt like walking on eggshells. Every word, every touch, felt like a betrayal. Steeling herself, Leah decided she couldn't take it anymore. She needed a way out, a way to confess without causing irreparable damage.

A confused warmth had bloomed in your chest over the past few weeks. Leah, the confident captain you both admired and were slightly intimidated by the girl you were utterly in love with, had started seeking you out. The stolen glances during training, the funny texts that made you snort out loud, the surprise lunches – it all felt unreal. Was Leah Williamson actually crushing on you?

The thought sent a giddy blush creeping up your neck. You confided in Leah about your anxieties, your struggles to connect with the team, and your hero worship for her leadership style. With every shared secret, the warmth in your chest intensified. Here you were, getting to know the real Leah, and she was amazing. Her focused gaze held a depth you hadn't noticed before, and her playful teasing sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

But lately, a flicker of doubt had started to cloud your sunshine. Leah seemed…distant. Her smiles seemed forced, the playful banter replaced by awkward silences. Your concern grew when she brushed off your attempts to reach out, citing vague family issues. The warmth in your chest started to curdle, replaced by a gnawing sense of unease. Was this just a phase, or was something else going on?

As Leah mumbled about family stuff, you couldn't shake the feeling she was hiding something. The hurt was sharp, tinged with a confusing mix of anger and disappointment. Had you misread everything? Was Leah just being friendly, and you'd gotten ahead of yourself? The thought of your budding friendship being a figment of your imagination was a bitter pill to swallow.

Yet, amidst the hurt, a spark of defiance ignited. You wouldn't let this go without a fight. You deserved honesty, and you were determined to get it from Leah, one way or another. The playful banter you once craved now felt hollow, replaced by a steely resolve. You wouldn't be anyone's fool, not even Leah Williamson.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, after Leah's mumbled excuse. Taking a deep breath, you decided to push past the awkwardness. "Leah," you began, your voice surprisingly steady, "is there something you're not telling me?"

Leah flinched, her gaze flickering away from yours. A moment stretched, then she sighed, deflating like a punctured balloon. "Alright," she finally admitted, running a hand through her hair. "The truth is... things with my family are rough right now, but that's not all of it."

Your heart hammered in your chest, a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. "What else is there, Leah?"

She met your gaze then, a vulnerability you hadn't seen before shining in her eyes. "The reason I've been acting weird... it's because..." she took another shaky breath, "because I really like you, Y/N. More than just a friend."

The admission hung in the air, a weight lifting from your own chest. Relief flooded you, warm and sweet, washing away the hurt and confusion. A hesitant smile tugged at your lips. "You... you like me too?"

Leah's cheeks flushed a rosy pink. "Yeah. I guess I was scared. Scared of messing things up with the team, scared of rejection..."

A genuine smile bloomed on your face. Leaning forward, you reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Leah," you murmured, your voice soft, "the only thing I'm scared of is missing out on this."

The vulnerability in your eyes mirrored Leah's. A hesitant smile curved her lips. "So... what does this mean for us?"

You knew then, with a certainty that settled deep in your gut, that this wasn't just a fleeting infatuation. This was real. Taking another deep breath, you met her gaze head-on. "It means," you said, your voice firm with newfound resolve, "that I'd love to take you out on a proper date sometime, Captain Williamson. No family drama, no distractions, just you and me."

The smile on Leah's face this time was full-blown, radiant. "Sounds perfect, Y/N. Sounds perfect." But she couldn't help the sinking feeling in her stomach.

The air crackled with unspoken emotions as you and Leah walked away from the training ground, hands brushing every so often. The weight of her confession had shattered the awkward tension, replaced by a shy giddiness. Relief and a blooming joy washed over you – you weren't imagining things after all.

Weeks turned into months, and your relationship blossomed alongside Leah's ACL recovery. You became a constant by her side, a source of unwavering support throughout her physiotherapy. You diligently helped her with her strengthening exercises, transforming them into playful challenges that made the rehab less daunting. You celebrated every milestone, no matter how small, the glint of pride in your eyes a bigger motivator than any stern lecture from the physiotherapist.pen_spark

Training sessions became a delightful mix of focused intensity and playful competition. You mirrored each other's exercises, erupting in laughter when one of you inevitably stumbled or fumbled. Lunch breaks were spent strategizing for upcoming games and sharing childhood stories, your bond deepening with every conversation.

But Leah never forgot the initial deception that clouded the start of your connection. The guilt gnawed at her, especially during your physiotherapy sessions. She poured her heart into her recovery, fueled by the desire to be back on the pitch, playing alongside you, not just watching from the sidelines.

One particularly grueling afternoon, as Leah groaned through leg raises, you noticed the strain etched on her face. "Hey," you said gently, placing a hand on her knee, "need a break?"

Leah looked up, surprised by the concern in your eyes. "I'm almost done with this set," she mumbled, determined to endure the pain.

Almost doesn't count," you countered, a playful glint in your eyes. "Besides, wouldn't it be better to listen to your body? We don't want to set you back."

Leah couldn't help but smile. Your genuine care for her well-being was a balm to her soul. "Alright, fine," she conceded. "But only for a few minutes."

Those stolen breaks became a daily ritual. You'd bring her water, help stretch her hamstrings, and sometimes, just sit in comfortable silence, the unspoken bond between you a powerful comfort. You even started researching healthy recipes, determined to fuel Leah's body with the nutrients it craved for recovery.

As Leah's birthday approached, the excitement crackled in the air. You spent weeks planning her party with her family, before enlisting the help of her Mom after remembering her childhood idol Thierry Henry and how jealous she was when you told her you had a signed jersey from the French superstar much to your Dad's dismay. Amanda had asked you numerous times if you were sure you wanted to give that to Leah "She has made me feel more loved, seen, and wanted in these past six months than I have felt my entire life. I.....I just...I know I will never be able to tell her or show her how much I love her, how incredible she is and if this jersey shows her a fraction of that then I'm sure." Amanda pulled you into her chest tightly "You are the only girl i could have ever wished for Leah to fall in love with, but trust me darling she knows how much you love her."

1 Week Later

"I'm sorry you did what." Leah's eyes dropped to the ground unable to look at her mother's disappointed face. "I.....Leah of all the things and to Y/n.....Y/n she god Leah she was it she was your one....shes the one we all wanted the one we were all gunning for how.....how could you be so cruel and to Y/n I'm so disappointed, i actually cant even look at you." Leah turned “Mum…I.” But Amanda was gone

[front-facing-pokemon]

[fuck-customers]

A couple of weeks ago, in a day I didn't work, we had two fights that both required the cops to be called.

The first one was a couple of groups of teens who apparently had beef and pulled knives on each other. An old guy tried to break them up, and both groups turned on him. The issue did end up being resolved without any blood drawn, which is more than I can say for the next fight. (But people wonder why I'm so strict on enforcing the No Weapons rule. It's because I remember the last time someone got stabbed)

Fight number 2 was a drawn-out affair. For context, I work at a movie theater. There was a (white) couple who apparently were in their movie and causing a disturbance by throwing around racial slurs (I was not told the specifics but I'm assuming the N-word) at other (black) customers. For some reason, they weren't asked to leave, just to be quiet, and they eventually shut up. When the couple went outside after the movie, the other group of customers was waiting for them. This was the last show of the night, so the doors were all locked (our doors can be opened from inside when locked, but not the outside. So we lock them while the customers are still in the building). The group, who I'm told had at least 4 people in it, started beating on the couple. I'm not sure where the lady went, but she disappeared at some point. Meanwhile, a manager (I was not told which one) who's helping close up hears some commotion and looks over and sees the racist guy banging on the door and screaming, and he's smearing blood on the door. All the manager knows is that someone is being attacked, so they run over and open the door to let the guy slip inside before closing the door behind him while someone else calls 911. The group scatters. And guess what? The racist guy was pissed that the door was locked, so he punched the manager and also broke the door, because apparently racists don't know how to be greatful to a person of color for saving their ass (basically all my coworkers, including the managers, are POC. So even though I don't know who the manager was, I know they weren't white) So now charges are being pressed both for the assault on the manager and for the cost of repairing the door. But they fucked around and found out, I guess. Or should I say, talk shit, get hit. Granted, I can't really condone beating the shit out of strangers for calling you slurs... I don't really feel bad for the racist couple. Hopefully, lessons were learned, though somehow I doubt it.

Side note, there is actually a customer who calls *me* slurs, and has for quite a while, but I doubt it was the same customer, since she isn't white, and thus doesn't match the description of the racist couple. I didn't see her for almost a year, and then she came in a few weeks ago and was actually behaved and didn't seem to recognize me. So I'm not sure if she did some self-reflection or started on some meds/therapy or found Jesus or something, but whatever it is, I'm glad it's working for her, I guess. Though as far as I know, she's not mentally ill, just a Karen who doesn't like that she has to follow the rules like everyone else.

[coupranghae808]

Birthday Blues

Pairing: Seungcheol x f.reader

Genre: Fluff, angst

Warning: Slight cursing, birthday blue depression

Summary: Seungcheol is always on time to self-congratulate himself on his birthday, you'd imagine he would do the same for others, except his timing wasn't perfect on Carat's birthday or even your birthday. But how can you rely on him to remember your birthday if he doesn't know?

A/N: This is my first ff, so bear with me y’all

The first year dating Seungcheol was a strange yet overwhelming journey, to say the least. As sweet as the first dates, first kisses, first "I love yous," first intimacy, and first everything, together really tested your small inexperienced heart, but as your first boyfriend, Seungcheol did everything in his power to ease the journey. I mean that's what the first year is all about, right? Getting to know each other and building trust on an intimate level. One fact that you learned about Seungcheol throughout your relationship was that Seungcheol always tends to be on standby minutes before his birthday to receive early birthday messages. In fact, the first couple weeks you two started dating, his brothers all warned you if you failed to congratulate him at midnight on the dot, he would become a sulky monster against you until the end of existence. Although they make it sound like an over exaggeration, sulky Seungcheol is truly a force to be reckoned with. It's not every day he gets showered in love and attention, so he always expects special treatment on his special day. You'd imagine he would do the same for others, except his timing wasn't perfect on Carat's birthday or even your birthday. But how can you rely on him to remember your birthday if he doesn't know?

The morning sunshine peeked through the windows, waking you from deep slumber. Tossing and turning in Seungcheol bed, hoping for early snuggles, your eyes opened, and you realized you were all alone in the empty bed. He must've left early for work It's not the best way to start the day, but you weren't going to let this ruin your day. The day immediately started with a phone call, not from Seungcheol but none other than your mother herself.

"Hello-"

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N!!"

"Aw thank you mom-"

Meanwhile, in the distance, Kkuma's ears perk up to the sound of your voice and dashes towards your end of the bed. She interrupts your conversation with sweet (aggressive) kisses; you have to calm her down with gentle pats brushing through her white fur.

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Y/N! Happy birthday to you!"

"Wow, again thanks mom. That's all really sweet to say at 7 am."

"Oh please, can't I just celebrate my kid? It feels like just yesterday you were crying and screaming like a baby and now your__ years old. Gosh. Anyways, hopefully my gift arrives safely in the mail today. Any plans today? Maybe with that boyfriend of yours? Hmmm?"

Of course. Ever since you revealed your newfound partner to people, your mom especially, constantly pesters for any details about him or your relationship. However, dating a worldwide idol doesn't make your relationship any easier, so both of you agreed to be careful about what you share while protecting each other.

"His name is Seungcheol, and no, he hasn't mentioned anything to me, so I'll probably go on with my usual day."

"Ehhh? No, I'm sure he has something in mind like a surprise! *Gasp* How romantic would that be!?"

"Yeah sure. Look mom, I should really get going for today. Thanks for the birthday wishes."

"Yes, yes! Go on, come visit soon sweetie!"

"Alright, Love you-"

*Call Ended*

… Wow, for one who loves to yap, she was quick to end the call

You turned your attention back to Kkuma and cupped her fluffy tiny head in your hands.

"Do you think dad knows about today?" You asked.

There was a moment of silence as if she was seriously contemplating the question until she licked your nose as a pity response.

"Yeah, I'm not sure either. I'll try to ignore it, I suppose."

The mixed internal conflict running in your mind was condensed and released in the form of a heavy sign. Indulging in the peaceful hour, your eyes wander around his room, which eventually lands on the clock, reading 7:30 am!!

"Shit! How is it already 7:30? I'm going to be late- oh sorry hun."

The commute from Seungcheol place to your work only takes 15 minutes, but that wasn't even enough time to get ready. Kkuma, who becomes slightly concerned, watches you running left and right across Seungcheol’s place like a crazy maniac. It was a race against the clock, and there was only time for you to wash, dress, and gather your belongings. You miraculously managed to arrive in the nick of time. However, the moment you parked yourself dark storm clouds began to shroud the sky, and all your efforts to look put together were drenched, all in vain, by the cursed rain. To make matters worse, you misplaced your key card, which locked you out of the building.

Darn, I must've forgotten it back at Seungcheol's place. I almost made it too. Now what?

Sulking on your forgetfulness, you slowly approached the front doors, where you had to negotiate access into the building with security. To the security guards, you seem like an insane freak straight out of a horror film. It took several calls to your department to finally convince them. Once inside, you received several puzzled stares passing by as you trudged your way up the office. You finally arrived 30 minutes late to your desk only to soon be summoned by your authorities for a stern lecturing. You sat obediently through a literal bully session for your incompetence, selfishness, and inactive efforts that discourages your teams to meet deadlines. You've clearly seen better days before. Despite the cursed mishaps, you mask your disheartened feelings with a brave face and push forward. You mentally longed for Seungcheol to comfort you through this humiliating moment. Right on cue, when you attempted to contact him, your phone was on the verge of death, and you just so happened to forget your phone charger behind. *PerfecT*.

Meanwhile, in the practice rooms of HYBE INSIGHT, the seventeen members rehearsed their dance routine once more in preparation for their next comeback. After the dance coach instructed a 10-minute break, the members sat huddled together and took a moment to organize a celebratory party (but really an excuse to drink).

"This might be last minute, but why don't we have the party tonight? We could do it after practice at Mingyu and Wonwoo’s place." Hoshi exclaims.

"What dude? Just because I can cook multiple servings doesn't mean I'm gonna serve all your hungry asses," Mingyu argues. "Let's just go out to that new restaurant down the road."

"Oh, that sounds better! What’s the place called again? I'll get reservations ready," Seungcheol says as he searches for his phone.

"But Hyung, I thought you'd be busy tonight?" Seungkwan assumes with a confused face. This news alters all the members' attention towards him. Together their curiosity pierced Seungcheol for answers.

"Uh, nope. Why would you think that?

"Today is (insert bdate) right? I’m pretty sure that’s her birthday, so I figured you guys were going to celebrate."

"Birthday… I had no idea. She never said anything about a birthday." Seungcheol pauses in disbelief.

"What are you serious? You forgot?" Vernon hissed as he knocked him back into reality.

"Wait no, she never told me about her birthday. I need to call her."

His fingers fidgets through his phone to search for your contact. Seconds go by, and the ringtone eventually reaches voicemail. He hits the messages app in panic and spams texts nonstop, but there is still no response.

"Guys I think I really fucked up, she isn't responding back to me," Seungcheol whined while running his head through his hair. "What do I do now?"

"Hey, calm down it's not entirely too late, just-"

" Alright boys, break time is over now. Let's get in position for the last set." Seungcheol eyes widen

"I've got an idea hyung, let's get this over with so we can get out sooner."

After work, you stepped outside the building as the last person to finish. You had to work overtime to compensate for your tardiness this morning. You don't overlook the dark empty scenery before you. You let the cold breeze carry you toward your car and slump into your seat. This rarely isolated atmosphere allowed you to shed a few tears before you started your engine. You were well aware of your chronic case of birthday blues, yet each birthday seems worse than the last. Although you don't mind the attention people typically receive on their birthday, it breaks your heart knowing that most people in your life don't acknowledge you. You obviously can't blame Seungcheol; it was a miscommunication on your part, but you can help to feel unworthy, especially from the heck of a day you had. You just remind yourself that the day is finally over and you can ignore it like a regular old day.

You debated whether you should head straight home or back to Seungcheol place. Every fiber in your body wanted to return home, but you realized you still needed to pick up some essential items you had left behind after learning from your rookie mistakes today. You had no idea of Seungcheol's whereabouts; for all you could tell, he could still be practicing with the boys, asleep, or at home waiting for you. You prayed that wasn't the case because you weren't sure if you were emotionally prepared to confront and mask your weak self.

I'm just going to grab my stuff then leave without him knowing. Yeah… that's the plan

You stand facing Seungcheol's door and take a deep breath before entering. You glance up at the ceiling asking the universe for this impending fate to be in your favor for once. Once you stepped inside, the room was completely dark. There was a faint illumination from another room that piqued your interest. You silently slipped off your shoes and found a trail of rose petals on the floor leading to the light.

" Kkuma, no! Don't eat the roses, those are for Y/Nie. She should be here at any moment…*sigh* I hope she's safe." Seungcheol trembled while making some sort of commotion in the kitchen.

Now that you know Seungcheol is home, you wonder if it's too late to abort the mission, but your conscience reasoned that there is no turning back now. You haven't seen Seungcheol at all today, and he is expecting you. You tread carefully over the roses, following to the end of the trail and witness a sight to behold.

A candle-lit room with a soft romantic tune and the sweet aroma of all your favorite dishes traveled across the kitchen. Despite the pilling dishes in the sink, you realized his place was more polished than you remembered, decorated in fact. The dining table was set almost exactly similar to an elegant restaurant with wine, dinnerware, flowers, and even more candles. Then your attention averts to the man on the ground being all loving and affectionate with his daughter. She barks to alert your presence and struggles to escape her father's embrace.

"Hey…" he said breathlessly. He immediately stands and rushes to your side. You both stare lovingly until his arms engulf you in a warm hug.

"I missed you," he breaks the silence without letting go of you. "You didn't respond to any of my calls… l'm-"

Before he could finish his thought, you knew you had to clear the air.

"Yeah. Sorry, I had a bit of a rough day, and I left my charger here before I left for work," you release the hug to show him your inactive phone when you stare back at his gentle eyes. "So, My phone was basically dead the whole day."

"Oh…" He realizes. He struggles to find the right words to phrase his next thought.

"Look, babe. I'm not gonna pretend with you, especially when I *deep sigh* completely forgot your birthday. I'm so sorry." His voice cracked softly as he spoke the last sentence. He tilts his head up to hide his tears from rolling down his face.

"Oh, how did you uh, find out?" you stuttered.

"You were hiding it from me?"

" No I-"you left a sigh and avoided his eyes. "It's complicated, I didn't purposefully hide it from you… You see I don't exactly have a great relationship with my birthday. I don't know; I just always seem to dread the day because each year, I'm reminded I'm getting older and there’s still so much I haven’t accomplished… It makes me feel like a failure every time. When I was younger, every time I invited people to celebrate my birthday, I always felt guilty for forcing them into a party they would rather not be wasting time at, so I always found myself lonely on my birthday… I guess that's why I rarely tell people about my birthday."

You look back at Seungcheol's bloodshot eyes staring into you whilst he processes your words. His intense stare made you quiver and shrink in size. Before you could look away, Seungcheol slumped his head on your shoulder, and you could feel his hot tears staining your skin.

"You- How dare those shitty people make you hate yourself on YOUR DAY." You laugh in between your tears. Seungcheol takes a deep breath and kisses your tears. "Look I get it growing up sucks, but you can't be so hard on yourself. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, so it breaks my heart that you think that lowly of yourself."

You both probably spent a good minute hugging each other to digest each other's words when a soft beeping alarm from the oven catches both your attention. Seungcheol smiles and runs his hands from your shoulders to your hands, dragging you to the sound.

"I might not be the best first boyfriend, but I couldn't let the day end without celebrating it with my girl, so I, uh, tried to make you a cake and set up this special dinner."

He swears he saw the whole universe in your eyes when your eyes sparkled at his words. Together, you decorated the cake, danced hysterically to the music, sipped on wine, and dined with take-out before feasting dessert. All the early inconveniences that ruined you initially washed away with Seungcheol. Now Seungcheol lights the candles on the cake while singing to you.

" Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday, dear Y/N, Happy birthday to you~ Make a wish."

You clasped your hands together while taking a few seconds carefully deciding your precious wish. Once you mentally lock it in, you blow the flames out and watch the smoke dissipate between you and Seungcheol.

" What did you wish for?"

"I can't say if I want it to come true hmm?"

[succubusdaydream]

Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again || Gale Dekarios Angst

A/N: Hi lovies! Sorry I’ve been absent; I recently moved and started a new job that actually gives me hours so my weeks are going to be pretty busy. BUT! I am working on BTGoTM in any spare time I have. I have finished part 6 and am working on part 7 and hopefully both will be up by the end of the month. In the meantime, here is a small angsty story to keep my mind a little fresh and to give myself a break from The Moon. Inspired by the title, a song from Phantom of The Opera, I give you Gale angst. And I know this song is sung by Christine to her father but every time I hear it I imagine this- Love you all <3!

Warning: Angst, canon BG3 violence, mid writing, inserted lyrics. Mystra when I catch you- when I catch you Mystra- Mystra when I catch you-

Masterlist

Word Count: 2401

---

                Weeks of fighting and battling a cult was finally coming to an end. The stem of the Netherbrain was mere feet away from you, twitching with gross squelches. The sky above Baldur’s Gate was un-seeable, the smoke from the burning buildings covering the skyline. Your party and yourself were covered in blood and soot from flames that burned around you. Each of you were breathing heavily as you took a moment to collect yourself.

                Behind you, your lover spoke up. “Can you feel it? We’re almost there.” Gale took a stance next to you, a look in his eyes you couldn’t quite decode. “The brain… it’s high above the city now- far away from any innocents.” A pit formed in your stomach as his gaze turned to meet yours. “I can end this now- stop the Absolute and spare the city. The stage is set for my final act. Mystra’s bidding. And the redemption that lies beyond.”

                You quickly shook your head, grabbing his hand in yours. “What? No, Gale we’ve discussed this. I won’t allow you to sacrifice yourself for her. City be damned, I won’t lose you. We said we’d all do this together.” You smiled at him taking a small step towards the brain’s stem. “We started this journey together and now we’ll finish it together. Just as we promised.”

                He pulled you back towards him, a soft smile taking over his expression. “I am right where I need to be,” he moved in front of you, his back now facing the stem and yours to your party, “I have no right to ask more of you.” Your brows creased and it was then that a noise reached your ears.

                A soft humming was heard through the chaos of the burning Baldur’s Gate, and when you turned your head, what you saw was a white doorway. You had looked around, realizing the rest of your friends were gone and, in a panic, you turned back to your lover. “What’s going on.”

                “It’s time I spirited you to safety, for this is a fate I must face alone. There is an endless wonder out there. Infinite possibilities. Perhaps fate will bring us back together, before the universe dims.” Tears began to fall down your cheeks and you gripped his arms, not wanting to let go.

                You began to beg, vision blurring with tears as he moved his hands to cup your face. But as quickly as you began to plead, he silenced you. His soft lips meeting yours in sting of sadness, tears of his own beginning to fall along with yours.

                And it was with one final ‘I love you’ that you felt your body begin to fall backwards. Your tried to reach out, seeing the form of your lover become engulfed with white as the world around you change from the city to forest. He had transported all of you far away enough that the blast of the orb would do you no damage, but you could still see the city from the ledge you now collapsed onto. As well as the brain’s silhouette.

                “Soldier! There you are!” Karlach’s voice rang from behind you and echoed in your ears. All the noise around you echoed as you stared at the far-off city in disbelief and betrayal. She had continued to try and speak with you, her warm hands caressing your back before you roughly shoved at her.

                You let out panic cries as you ripped your satchels and pouches off, dumping out all of their contents in search of something-anything- that could get you back to the city. Incoherent pleases and begging fell from your lips.  And when a scroll of a flying spell hit the ground, your shaky hands quickly grabbed it, tearing the paper and letting the magic flow through your body.

Your friends let out panic cries as you launched yourself off the edge, the wind whipping your hair in your eye and the strands stuck to your wet face. Despite the magic, your armor weighed you down and you knew. You knew somewhere that you weren’t going to make it and the pit in your stomach grew bigger and bigger.

                And finally, in a bright and almost beautiful way, a purple light shown from the top of the brain. Its brightness growing in size before disappearing and re-erupting with a loud boom. Your cries were drowned out by the noise and your body shook in the air as the edge of the blast just barely hit your form.  You could only stare in a stunned silence, watching in shock as the brain and all the nautiloids around it fell to the ground and sea below. Crashing into the city and demolishing even more of its beautiful structures.

                Your body slowly lowed to the ground, and you fell to your knees, not even affected by how the rocks and jagged ground of the forest clanked into your armor. You were never going to make it. Hells, you were only a little way away from the cliff your party stood on, watching in horror and sadness as the brain was taken out by their beloved friend.

And you wails soon echoed to their ears as you fell onto your hands, your body violently shaking with sobs as you pleaded with for any God to bring him back.

---

                “Up you go then, Gale. Best make this count… the whole world is watching.” Gale’s hand dug into the flesh of the brain’s stem as he hauled himself up to the crown.

                “Come to die? Come to kneels? Surrender and live-THRALL!” The voice of the Netherbrain echoed in his mind.

                “Thrall? No, I think you’re mistaken. My name is Gale of Waterdeep. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” His form stood proudly in front of the Crown, though his eyes held a different expression. “Though our time together will be exceptionally brief. Farewell, and happy landings.”

                His eyes began to glow along with his hands as a dagger materialized from the Weave. He briefly sighed and gripped its handle, and with one final thought of his beloved, he plunged its blade into his chest. The sharp tip collided with the orb as he let out a cry of pain, driving it deeper with a disgusting squelch.

His final thought as his arms were violently stretched out? You. The image of your teary eyes staring into his with betrayal was the last thing he saw as his world erupted into bright lights of purple.

---

                Months had passed since the defeat of the brain. The beautiful green of trees and forests had fallen off as a cold blew through the city of Baldurs Gate with winter. The soft plush of the snow crunched beneath the feet of a hero as they somberly made their way through the darkening streets. The clouds covered the sky as even more snow fell from them, sticking to the hooded cloak that dawned the hero’s back.

                The city had quieted down as the sun set behind the dark clouds, leaving the streets in a quiet peace. Only a few people scattered the walkways, those closing shops or leaving the various taverns that finally decided to kick them out. Besides that, all the city was peaceful. The glow of the various streetlamps lighting the perfect path through the streets

                Soft hums sounded from the hero’s lips as they passed through the main city square. They stopped and turned to look at a statue that stood proudly in the center of said square. Its completion was recent, being built soon after the battle for the City was won.

The hero that was depicted was different from the one that stared at it. Even made of stone, the hair of the man looked soft and the spell in his hand was one to burn forever. A beautiful purple illuminating the plaque that was displayed on the base.

Gale Dekarios

Who gave his life for the citizens of Fearun

May his soul rest in peace

Hero of Baldur’s Gate

                Tears fell down cold red cheeks as the hero still standing turned away, continuing their walk to their true destination. It hadn’t taken them long to reach it as they soon came face to face with the tall gate the opened to the cemetery. They creaked open, stiff and frozen from the cold and snow that continued to powder the world.

You were once my one companion

You were all that mattered

You were once a friend and lover

Then my world was shattered

                The hero let out a shaky breath as they crossed under the gate, wiping the never-ending tears from their frozen cheeks. The only sound that was heard was the wind and the crunch of their footsteps as they made their way past a plethora of stones, each holding meaning to different people. But nothing to them.

Wishing you were somehow here again

Knowing that I never would

Dreaming of you won’t help me to do

All that you dreamed I could

As they went deeper into the site, the headstones grew bigger, a few smaller monuments and sculptures for those who could afford it. All dark stone coated in a plush white. The hums continued as their body started to shiver, the cold finally seeping through their cloak and boots.

Passing bells and sculpted angels

Cold and monumental

Seem, for you, the wrong companion

You were warm and gentle

Another gate stood in front of them, a soft blue shining from the bars in a tell-tale sign of a magic lock. With shaky hands, they held their palm to the keyhole, a soft glow emitting from it before a click rang out and the doors creaked opened. Behind it, a building with another set of glowing doors, angelic statues standing proud on each side to guard what it held inside.

Too many years

Fighting back tears

Why can’t the past

Just die?

As the hero unlocked the tomb doors and made their way inside, they finally broke. Falling to their knees, whining as their bones met the cold hard floor. Their sobs echoed through the tomb, echoing through their own ears as they held their hands to their chest. Hiccups racked their body, and they couldn’t tell which was making them shake more, the cold or sadness that ripped through their soul. Perhaps neither was good for them.

They tried their best to speak through their cries. “I-I wish you were here again. I wish I could at least say goodbye. You were supposed to be here with me! We were supposed to save the city together. She didn’t deserve your sacrifice. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without you. What happened to the future we talked about?”

“I don’t want to feel this angry with you! You gave your life to save mine. But I never got to say goodbye! I-I’m trying to forgive you, my love. Teach me to live!” Their words were cut off by hiccups before they took a second to catch their breath, their cries quieting down to soft whimpers. “At least give me the strength to try, Gale. Give me the strength to try.”

They sat silently, staring at the concrete bed that lay in the center of the monument. They couldn’t even properly mourn their lover, as their coffin was empty. His body had disappeared when his spell went off. The only thing the hero could cry to was an empty slab of stone.

Time passed quietly; the silence only broken by the occasional hiccup from the frozen hero. And if it weren’t for the crunch of footsteps, they wouldn’t have noticed the equally cold hand that was placed onto their shoulder. The scent that hit their nose immediately told them who had joined.

“You’ll get sick if you stay like this for too long, Tav.” Astarions voice was soft as weight was removed from their back before being replaced by something lighter. A new cloak that wasn’t as cold or wet, soft furs doing a better job to keep the snow away than the fabric one now held by the pale elf. “I knew I’d find you here. No doubt this week has been rough for you.”

Tav slowly rose from their kneeling position, wiping their eyes and nose as they turned to finally face the vampire. He held a look of sympathy in his eyes, their crimson shade holding a sadness to them, though not as deep as the hero before him.

“It’ll be a year next week. I wanted to see him before I leave for Waterdeep soon. There’s not a lot left for me in Baldur’s Gate and according to Tara, his tower has accumulated quite a bit of dust in his absence.” Their eyes continuously drifted from Astarion to the stone coffin, small tears still falling from their eyes.

“I suppose that means you’ll be leaving me all alone then? I guess I’ll just have to put up with Wyll’s rant about Grand Duke duties and only occasionally seeing our dear Shadowheart.” His tone wasn’t one of seriousness. “But… I suppose if it gives you comfort and something to busy yourself, I can compromise with the occasional visit. So long as you promise to write.”

The hero smiled at him, taking his cold hand in their equally frozen one. “Thank you Astarion. And I promise I’ll write.”

The elf let out a sigh, taking a small step back. “Come along dear, I’ll walk you home. I wouldn’t want you freezing to death in a gloomy graveyard.” As he led them to the door, his arm was held back.

Tav took one last look in the tomb, releasing Astarion’s hand to reach into the pocket of their trousers. From it, they retrieved a letter. The note Gale had written for them the night he made his decision. The hero placed the folded paper on top of the concrete before raising the hands, muttering a spell with a soft pink light.

From the light, a beautiful purple flower that seemed to glow in the darkness was placed on top of the letter, forever keeping their lovers’ spirit company as they turned to finally leave. Taking Astarion’s hand once again, they locked the arcane gates behind them and walked into the now dark city as the snow continued to softly fall.

Help me say goodbye

[edupunkn00b]

Spaced

WC: 1416 - Rated: T - CW: mild swearing, minor angst, happy ending

Happy Birthday, Roman. The moment I saw the video explaining Roman's birthday celebration would be late, I couldn't get this out of my head, so, here we go…

Illuminated only by the fairy lights draped along his walls, and the dull blue glow of his phone screen, Roman sat up in bed and scrolled through Thomas’ mentions. 

No big deal, just going feral…

Dayum, the LACE! Those HEELS!

Not to be a lesbian but…

Logan is the HOTTEST side, hands down!

Growling, Roman flung his phone across the room. Lucas popped up and caught it in one hand just before it hit the wall. “Temper, temper, my Prince,” he tutted before launching the phone up into the air and smashing it with his baseball bat. “You could break your phone like that.”

Roman conjured a new device and let his head fall back against the pillows, eyes squeezed shut. If he didn’t look at him, maybe he would just leave.

It didn’t work. 

“Get out,” he said, listless. Roman had burned up all his rage on throwing the phone and now he just felt… tired.

“That’s it?” Lucas chuckled. Glass crunched underfoot as he stepped closer to the bed. “Where’d that fire go?”

“Catharsis.”

Laughing, Lucas tapped his bat against his orange Doc Martens, knocking away bits of glass and shattered plastic from the chipped and dented wood. Roman glared at him. “Why are you here?” 

He scooped up a handful of the glittery remains of Roman’s phone from the floor. “Do you really have to ask? Or do you just enjoy stupid questions?”

Eyes fixed on his new phone, Roman did his best to pretend Lucas didn’t exist. Switching apps, he scrolled through his history until he found today’s video.

“…This month has been wild and I’ve just been so focused on the Logan skirt photoshoot that I’ve been working on… I completely forgot there were Sides birthdays comin’ up this month…”

Roman’s thumb hovered over Thomas’ face on the screen, ready to pause but knowing that wouldn’t stop the next words from coming. Wouldn’t stop them from playing on a loop in his head as they had for the past four hours.

“…Hopefully it’ll come out the week after? I’m working on it… I completely spaced.”

Three brief knocks broke his concentration and his phone fell to his lap. Roman looked up to where Lucas had stood, but he and the destruction he’d caused was gone. Three more knocks. “Roman?” Logan’s voice outside the room was low, but modulated to be heard through the door. “Roman, I wanted to apologize.”

“What for?” he asked, filling the air as he moved to the door.

“I am in charge of the schedule,” he said, voice clipped. “I should have alerted Thomas to the tight timeline and predicted that—”

“It’s fine, Specs,” Roman muttered, picking at a loose thread on his sash. “I don’t blame you.”

“Lies, lies, lies, lies, lies…” Janus sang quietly, close enough his breath ruffled Roman’s bangs.

“Don’t you ever knock?” he hissed back, adjusting his hair.

“Now why would I do that?” Janus arranged himself on Roman’s chaise, legs crossed and one arm draped over the backrest. “When I can simply make myself at home.” Roman stepped closer, prepared to tip the Lord of the Lies right out of his seat.

“Roman?” Logan was still outside his door. Could he hear Snakeface?

Roman shook his head and let out a slow breath before approaching the door again. “Truly, Logan, we have the birthday video planned for the day after tomorrow. You made sure of it. Ultimately it was Thomas’ choice. I am fine—“

“Oh, sweet, sweet lies…” 

Roman shot Janus a look, jaw clenched, but he kept his voice even and calm. “And I will be down momentarily. I’m nearly done with this script.”

Janus shrugged and disappeared.

“Very well.” Logan was either mollified or else he correctly determined further argument would get him nowhere. “We’ll see you shortly, then.”

One hand pressed to the door, Roman listened to the retreat of Logan’s footsteps down the hall.

“I thought he’d never leave!” Remus cackled from behind him.

Roman spun around. Remus lay sprawled on his bed, head hanging off the side, a series of red and purple splotches running over his neck and down his chest.

“Your hickeys are showing.” Roman rolled his eyes and sat at his vanity. “Here,” he said, offering a golden compact and a beauty blender. “This tone suits you. Cover up.”

“Why would I want that?” he laughed, shoving the compact back at him. “Everyone downstairs will understand how I ended up with these.” Remus locked eyes with his reflection. “Today the whole world saw how hot our Nerdy Wolverine really is.”

Avoiding his brother’s gaze, Roman opened the compact and dabbed at the shadows under his eyes.

“Or didn’t you notice?” Remus added, chin propped up on his fists and kicking his feet.

“Of course I noticed!” Giving up on his makeup, Roman snapped the compact shut and stomped over to his bed. “He looks amazing but that’s not the point! This is the beginning of June and tomorrow’s my—“ Roman’s voice cracked and he plopped down on his bed, hiding his face against the cool satin duvet.

“Now we’re gettin’ somewhere…” Remus purred, inching closer and tilting Roman’s face so he wouldn’t smother himself in the plush bedding. He tapped his brother’s temple. “I could hear you all the way from my room.”

“Apparently so could Janus,” he mumbled.

“Hey,” Remus laughed. “At least you weren’t feeling murderous enough that Lucas could—“

Roman heaved a sigh and flipped over onto his back. “He was here, too.”

“Pretty fly for a Light guy.” When Roman merely shrugged and closed his eyes, Remus snaked too-long nails through his hair, like a bonobo searching for lice.

Roman shuddered. Remus would just as likely put lice in his hair just to pick them out again. “You know Tommy-gun admitted to forgetting both of our birthdays,” Remus sing-songed.

“Yes, I know,” he breathed. “You’re right.” Roman opened his eyes just in time to catch his brother’s frown. Just before he plastered his face in another manic grin. “But he has time to do something proper for your birthday.”

“You know he’ll make it up to you,” Remus said, more serious than Roman would’ve expected. “Jannie wasn’t lying. You’ll always be his hero.”

“I know,” Roman muttered, nearly believing it.

“Do you need me to go get Jannie?”

“No!” he said, louder than he intended. “No, I mean…” Roman shook his head, out of words. Out of any words worthy of a prince, at least. Laying back, hands folded over his belly, he let Remus pick at his hair and they both fell quiet. Quiet enough for the sounds of the others preparing an impromptu party for Logan to filter through the gap between his door and the hallway.

Sudden laughter rang out from downstairs. Logan’s laughter. The brothers’ eyes darted to the door in perfect unison.

“Now when was the last time you heard that?” Remus murmured.

Roman sighed. It’d been far too long. “I don’t remember, actually.” He sighed again and turned to his side, head pillowed on his brother’s knee. “I know I can’t begrudge him this celebration.”

“Well, you could,” Remus drawled, scratching his head.

“I’d be a real dick if I did.”

“Ah! Language!” Remus scolded, tone serious. But when Roman looked up, his brother was grinning. “You know what’ll make ya feel better?”

“What?” Roman tried not to smile but Remus’ grin was infectious.

“LIke pus,” he winked, reading his mind. “A little tromp through my side of the Imagination will turn that frown upside down. Slaughter some slimy demon spawn?” He wiggled his eyebrows and conjured his morningstar. “I’ll even let ya borrow Lucie…”

Roman narrowed his eyes to hide his excitement. It had been a long time since he’d let loose in the Imagination. Nearly as long since the last time Logan himself had let loose.

The voices in the living room grew louder and two sets of footsteps skipped up the stairs. “Come on, Kiddos! We’re waiting for you!”

Roman stood and pulled his brother to his feet, as well. “Tomorrow we shall hunt your orcs. Tonight?” Squaring his shoulders, Roman took a deep breath and caught a glance of his own reflection. He nodded. Very nearly the picture of regality. “Tonight, we celebrate Logan.”

Remus bumped his shoulder and flung his morningstar in the air. It lodged itself into Roman’s ceiling just before disappearing. “And you really have to wonder why you’re anybody’s hero?”

“Shut up,” Roman muttered, still smiling. “Hero.”

[kelp-my-beloved]

The only reason why they don’t throw their plan to the garbage and cut ties with the man right then and there was because she was clever enough to know when she held only half of the information. They had assumed from the start that the man was not completely sane, even if they had apparently underestimated the extent of it.

They still had to find out if he was good enough to compensate for it.

Or; five times Cleo caught Scott doing some Fucked Up Stuff, and one time it was Eloise

Or; five times Scott didn’t cope with Milo’s absence, through the eyes of Cleo, and one time from Eloise’s

Or; five times Scott proved necromancers were completely insane, and one time it occurred to his coven that it might be a bigger problem that they imagined

[braingobrrr]

miwip wednesday! hope u enjoy!

[sabraeal]

Desert & Reward, Chapter 18

[Read on AO3]

A few months ago he would have dug in his heels. Would have really put these fancy boots to the test struggling against both Kiki and Sir’s attempts to strong arm him into this ballroom, and left a good bit of sole streaked along the stone for his troubles. Obi might not have the muscle Mister does, but but what he lacks in raw strength he makes up for with sheer cussedness. A hard thing for the Big Guy to handle, historically. Not so much for Lady Seiran.

But that was when he was just Master’s messenger, a failed assassin up-jumped to knighthood. When the only thing that kept him orbiting in the court’s highest circles was a royal decree; a flimsy bit of paper and an unbreakable chunk of crystal his only assurance between respectability and the gutter he’d been born into. And tonight—

Tonight he’s Miss’s husband. So he lets Miss Kiki lay her hand over his fine sleeve, and tries to forget that a few years ago, he would have jumped straight off this balcony. Folded himself as thin as foolscap to slip in among the shrubbery, biting his lip bloody to keep the giggles in when the guards tromped past. He’s half-tempted to try it still— he might be bigger now, better fed, but he could still give those rookies a run for their money when it came to a rousing game of cat-and-mouse— but he catches one glimpse of dress blacks through the balustrade, followed by another two or three and, well, it’s clear His Majesty already took cold feet into consideration, even after the papers were signed.

“You can’t possibly think he would let you slip through his fingers now,” Kiki murmurs, all smiles as they stride through the doors. There’s a few curious eyes that fall on them, and an even greater number that linger on the hand Sir’s got clamped to his shoulder, all friendly on the outside, but all steel hidden beneath the skin. “Not when he needs to give these people a show.”

Fair enough. The man’s not one to leave good behavior up to chance. Not his, at least. “Yeah, it’ll be a real production all right. How come no one told me there was going to be public speaking involved in this whole marriage thing?”

“Oh my,” she drawls, one corner of her mouth lifting. That’s practically a guffaw in Kiki-speak. “You didn’t think all this fêting came for free, did you?”

“Considering how I didn’t have a say in any of it” — hell, he barely consented to more than a signature on paper and a wife in name— “yeah, kinda.”

Kiki’s too dignified for a snort— at least in this dress— but the air huffs right out of her still, like this whole disaster is a real laugh riot. “You’ve never had a problem singing for your supper before. Most of the time, we can’t get you to shut up.”

“Well, sure, but that’s different.” On the business end of her ladyship’s arched brow, Obi’s tongue nearly trips over itself to blurt out, “I have to actually mean what I say this time.”

That brow hikes higher, if it’s even possible. Curves itself so much it nearly comes to a point— one Kiki would be happy to hold to his throat, if her glare had its druthers.

“I mean,” he wheedles, “that I have to be earnest.”

“Oh, come on now, Obi.” Sir chuckles, giving that lantern jaw of his a good workout. “I’m sure you’ve done it before.”

For Miss, sure. Master, at least once or twice. He’d even summoned up some liquid courage and managed it with Kiki and Sir.  But— “Not in front of people who would eat me alive.”

“There are times I’d like to eat you alive,” Kiki informs him, helpful as always. “If only to get you to stop talking.”

“Kiki.”

“I don’t see why you’re taking that chiding tone with me.” Now it’s the Big Guy under the weight of that oppressive brow, made all the more ominous by the lack of expression beneath it. “It’s true.”

“Well, yes,” Sir allows, red creeping up from his collar. “But you don’t have to say it.”

“I, for one, would be happy to be devoured by you, my lady.” Obi gives her his most charming smile, hand pressed to the place Miss tells him his heart would be— at least according to anatomical models, she would say, too thoughtful. Which only depict the most likely shapes and places of organs. Some people even have hearts on the right side of their chest, if you can believe it. “So long as it would keep me from having to make this toast.”

“You can’t be that hard pressed to say something nice.” Obi’s used to bearing up under Lady Kiki’s glares and scowls, to soldiering through her glowers and leers, but none of those are as devastating as the concern she turns on him now. “It’s Shirayuki, after all.”

It’d be harder to find fault with her, that’s what her stare implies, and that’s— that’s the problem. If they asked him to go up there and wax poetic about the blue of Master— Zen’s eyes, or the breadth of Mister’s shoulders, or the keenness of Kiki’s blade, he could raise enough praise to get them past the heaven’s gates. But to ask him to talk about Miss, to even touch the angles of what she means to him and think to come away unbloodied—

“Maybe…” Big Guy coughs, kindly keeping his eyes elsewhere as he suggests, “…you could just talk about how grateful you are.”

“What?” It’s Obi’s turn to lift a brow now, mouth ratcheting to its wryest angle. “For getting strong armed into a wedding?”

“I meant…” Sir grunts, an agitated flush working its way up from his collar. “For the opportunity to celebrate. Not everyone talks about their” — feelings, that’s what he’s trying so hard not to say— “the bride. Or groom! But their, er…gratitude for their guests—”

“That I didn’t invite.”

“—Or your host,” he adds, more than a bit strangled. “For honoring you. Even your wife for—”

“Putting up with you.” Kiki’s teeth glint like a knife’s edge between her lips. “She deserves the credit.”

“What about you, Mister?” Obi asks, ignoring her ladyship’s all-too knowing smirk. “You did one of these, didn’t you?”

“Well, er…” There’s red blooming right at the tips of his ears, almost painful to look at. “Not, ah…really, no.”

“What?” He stares at him, wide-eyed, before letting it drop the foot to fix on Kiki. “How come he gets out of it, but I don’t?”

“Precedence,” she says, all simple, like he should be able to figure out from there. “As host, it fell to my father to toast the assembled party—”

“I would have though you’d remember.” Sir’s got his brow all furrowed, like Obi should have written this all down in his diary or something. “You had, er, comments after he was done.”

“Notes,” Kiki offers with a twitch of her lips. “They were extensive.”

“Sir.” Obi pressed a scandalized hand to his chest. “Do you think I’d do you the disservice— no, dishonor, even— of being sober enough at your wedding to remember it?”

“Obi…”

Kiki raises a hand, laying it against Sir’s arm. “No, he has a point.”

Mister stares down at her. “Really?”

“But if the host’s suppose to be the one doing all the toasting, how come it’s my head on the block tonight?” Obi gives the silk swags and effusive floral arrangements a pointed glance. “I’m certainly not the one footing this bill.”

There it is, another twitch of her ladyship’s mouth. Oh, what a laugh riot she’s having tonight. “Members of the royal family are exempt from the rule.”

“What?” He doesn’t so much speak as squawk, drawing every noble eye within shouting distance. Lower, he adds, “But they’re the ones raised to talk in front of people.”

“Yes, but— what is it you’re so fond of saying to Zen?” Her teeth flash again, and he’s half convinced he can feel the points pricking at his throat. “They suffer us to live at their leisure.”

“That is definitely not what I say.” Though he’s thought it often enough. “It’s ‘I live at your pleasure.’”

It’s awful how elegant all that breeding can make a shrug. “Same difference.”

“If Shirayuki’s father were here, it would be his job to make the toast,” Sir explains, more than a little harried. Marriage might have given him a fancy title, but politics still make the man break out in a cold sweat. “But since that’s not…er…possible, it’s yours.”

“Didn’t the Marquis stand in for him out there?” Begrudgingly, on both sides, but still legally binding. “A proxy, or whatever? Shouldn’t he be the one putting together some flowery speech about duty and lying back and thinking of Clarines—”

Kiki snorts. “Do you really want Haruka lecturing the court on your worthiness as a husband?”

“All right,” he relents, steps dragging the closer they come to the banquet hall. “Good point.”

*

It’s not that Obi expects Kiki and Sir to hold his hand through the rest of the reception— at some point they’ll expect him to play lord to Miss’s lady, after all, and he assumes that will involve some ritual   hand fondling and meaningful eye contact. Much as he’d like someone to feed him his lines in this little skit, three’s a crowd, and four makes for the sort of gossip it’d take more than a marquis’s glare to clean.

It’s just— he thought they might at least see him over the threshold.

Instead, their little party hits a halt right when parquet changes its pattern, the vise grip at his shoulder easing just as Kiki’s talons retract from his sleeve, leaving him to stand there, dumb, as Miss settles in his sights. Her dress is less impressive behind a table, but the gold still shimmers as she sighs, her own eyes searching the room until she finds—

Ah, him. It’s him she’s looking for. At least, that’s what her smile says when she does, so bright and pleased he has half a mind to run right back out this door and—

And only one breath deep in that idea, the Lord and Lady Seiran slap his back hard enough to stumble him across the finish line.

“Good luck,” Sir murmurs, stepping out from his side.

Kiki slips around him, taking her husband’s arm. “You’ll need it.”

Hah. With friends like these, who needs enemies? Still, he’ll give it to them— getting over the threshold makes it easier to stroll it, even with the Marquis glaring a hole through his back. Obi’s got half a mind to saunter over there and ask about payment for a job well done— maybe it took him a couple years, but their red haired guest wouldn’t be marrying any princes anytime soon.

But it’s Miss’s eyes that draw him back, that keep his feet angled along the straight and narrow. A lady’s supposed to maintain her composure, to play coy when the object of her attention draws near, never letting a soul know her true desires— but Miss squirms with his every step, so giddy she might burst at the seams before he get to her, and it’s—

It’s infectious. Obi’s not one for butterflies in his stomach— and for all that he may joke, he’s not the kind of man with gentle flutterings of the heart either— but he’s buoyant when he bounds toward her, lighter on his feet than he’s ever been. Unsinkable, that’s how he feels as he takes his seat beside her, smirk outstretched to a smile.

“Miss.” He flips his hand on his lap palm-up; an invitation, if she cares to take it.

“Obi.” A corner of her mouth curls, mischief bright in her eyes. “I don’t think you can call me that anymore.”

My name. Even now he can remember color of her eyes, so dark he thought he might get lost in them. I’d like you to say it. Just one more time.

He can taste it on his tongue, feel the shape of it filling his mouth, and ah, if they asked him to do that stupid toast right now, he’d sing so many of her praises he’d make minstrels wish they had half as must poetry in them. “My lady.”

A laugh huffs out of her, sweeter than any wine His Majesty could serve them. “That’s not what I meant.”

He’s tempted to tease, to try and draw another please from her before he lets her have her way, but the ornate chairs beside their own sober him better than a judge. “We should talk.”

The shine disappears from her eyes, smile dimming to the realm of mere mortals. “Of course. We haven’t had the chance since…”

Say it. Obi, please…

She flushes, right from her tasteful décolletage to her hairline. It’s terrible how much he’d like to feel its heat against his lips. “You probably have a lot you’d like to ask.”

He hadn’t— just this toast business, and only then to concoct a speech they could both live through, with minimal mortification— but now that she’s mentioned he should—

“Excuse me.” A hand claps him on the shoulder, familiar in its weight— and how hard it grips him, like a mother cat biting its kitten’s scruff. “I think you’re in my seat.”

He blinks, adding up that soft, pale skin and the calluses across the palm at the same time Shirayuki gasps, “Oh, Zen!”

Her hand doesn’t slip from his, but Obi does from hers, turning to grin up at this lost prince. “Well, hello there, Highness. You take a wrong turn at the punch bowl?”

“I’m afraid not.” His smile is strained at the corners, like hide stretched across a rack. “This is my seat, and yours is to my sister’s other side.”

Obi stares down the table, stymied. “That’s three seats away.”

“Sorry.” He doesn’t seem it when he shrugs, adding, “Precedence. You understand, don’t you?”

Miss frowns, a little furrow digging in between her brows. “But—?”

“Of course, Master.” It’s with numb legs that Obi gets to his feet, smiled stretched thin. “That’s the one thing you can always count on me for— I know my place.”

*

Obi might have been in the practice of dodging Wirant’s late night soirées, begging off invitations with reasons that ranged from the mundane— already scheduled to be on shift that night, and he’d walk the length of the wall between Lyrias and Wirant twice over before it was done— to the absurd— another greenhouse apprentice had managed to mix up the two different shigure, and Yuzuri had requested all hands to rescue the plants in the lower beds— but he’d gone to enough to know that the worst part of the night wasn’t all the ambitious mamas, looking for a likely knight to foist their foolish daughters on. Nor was it the dancing, though the ceaseless circles bored him— and Miss’s attempts at copying them usually resulted in a new set of boots for him— or the conversation, which even Miss called tedious, and he called mind-numbing.

Oh no, the worst part would be waiting for the titles to stop talking and eat. Those kitchens would be filled with some of the best chefs in the country making their most delicious dishes, and still theses lords and ladies would let it grow cold as they milled about the dinning room, more eager to fill their bellies with gossip than food.

But tonight, Obi hardly notices the foot-dragging; no, his attention is bent down the table, watching as Master leans into Miss, whispering in her all-too eager ear. Must be funny, whatever he says; Miss lifts her hand, hiding her giggles behind it.

Three seats away. Obi snorts. Even marrying her kept her closer to Zen.

A hand folds over his, gently urging his palm flat. “You’re going to tear the linens.”

It’s not in him to startle, but he does glance up, right into Her Majesty awaiting smile. “Sorry.”

“Don’t think of it.” Her eyes slip from his to drift over the feast hall, never lingering more than a moment on a face before floating to the next. “This will all be over soon.”

“Soon?” It’s three years by his count. Too long and too short, in turns.

“Of course.” One elegant hand lifts, gesturing toward the tables. “Soon, our guests will be seated, toasted and fed, and once our stomachs have settled, you will open the floor with your lady wife. Not so long at all, if you are to think of it like that.”

Obi blinks, running the numbers, but still— he’s got no idea what Her Majesty’s on about. “Not so long until what?”

He’s getting sloppy, letting a mistake like that leave his mouth. It’s barely tripped off his tongue before she’s fixed him with something so like her husband’s smirk it makes his skin itch. “Until we send you away, of course.”

“Send us away?” If only he did remember more of Sir’s wedding, he might know why his mouth’s gone all dry. “Where?”

Her Majesty is too refined for glares and sarcasm, but the looks she sends him is rather flat. “To your rooms. Where you will retired for the night.” A corner of her mouth curls, and when her mouth does part, her smile is all teeth. “It wouldn’t do for the happy couple to dance all night. Not when you both have much more pressing duty to attend.”

It’s a good thing they haven’t started the first course, since Obi does a fine enough job choking on his own spit. “Duties—?”

Silver chimes against crystal, and the steady din of conversation in the hall comes to an utter standstill. Oh, Zen’s accused his tongue of being honeyed and silvered and honed to an edge, but the second he looks out on this crowd, it sits dull and leaden in his mouth. Obi’s palms prickle with perspiration and he presses them to the table, knowing there’s no more time to complain, no more time to bargain, he just has to stand up and—

And sit back down again, since it’s Lata who’s on his feet now, glass in hand. Lata who is glaring down the table at where another man stands, knife still poised beside the glass, glowering back.

“Oh my,” Her Majesty sighs, sounding more amused than taken aback. “Marquis Haruka and Lata Forzeno. The majordomo must be falling to pieces.”

It’s more of that precedence again, that same jostling of elbows between a well-titled lord and an heir apparent to a better one that had them both squeezing their shoulders down the aisle. Obi can’t say he’s the biggest fan, but he’ll give it this: watching these two duke it out over who has the right to say the nicest stuff about him is the best entertainment he’s had in weeks. Better than him trying to choke through it on his own, at least.

But there’s one man here who trumps both of them in position and prestige, and it’s him who gets to his feet, glass upraised.

“My lords, if you would allow me,” Zen says, each word enunciated with such crystal clarity it brokers no protest. “I would like to say a few words.”

There’s little and less that either of them can do in the face a prince, and it’s with great reluctance— from the Marquis— and begrudging respect— from Lata— that they both lower to their seats cede the floor to him.

“First, I would like to thank all of you for coming to see my good friends wed.” Zen casts him a long look down the table before turning back to his audience. “I have known both bride and groom for a long while, and I must say, many of us never thought this day would come.”

Because it was never supposed to, that’s what His Highness won’t say, though the strain of his smile does well enough. Because it was supposed to be me here.

“If I had been told only a few years ago that I would be seeing them married”—Master shakes his head, and the court laughs with him— “Suffice to say, they could not have been less suited for each other. But there’s few hearts Shirayuki can’t turn, and even fewer troubles Obi can’t talk his way out of, and somehow, they have both become some of my closest companions. My most loyal retainers.”

Master peers down at Miss, and Miss looks up at him, and for a moment, Obi sees how it should have been. The two of them together, husband and wife, hands tangled together beneath the table as Zen stood to speak. Oh, how Miss’s eyes would shine as his love of her was finally put on display, put into words so pretty there’s be songs about it, played in every tavern from here to Lyrias. The both of them side-by-side, taking the first step into their future together, always facing forward—

And him, somewhere near the back of the room, clad in his dress blacks, just happy he pulled the right shift. Because that’s what mutts like him deserve: a chance to guard the door.

“After their years together at Lyrias, I’m certain of two things. First, that together, there is nothing they cannot accomplish. And second” — Zen fixes him with a pointed look— “that Obi knows how to do his duty.”

There’s a smattering of applause as he takes his drink— one that continues longer than it might, were it anyone else who spoke. But a prince deserves his due, and they’re still clapping even and Obi takes his own mouthful of drink, barely tasting more than bubbles as he swallows it down.

And it’s in that moment that Miss stands, her own untouched glass clenched in her hand. That she looks down the table and fixes him with a look that shines.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” she says, jaw set like she doesn’t care either way. “I have something I would like to say too.”

[bri-does-art]

i know this probably won’t do much, let alone anything at all, but i’m sorry for the stress this site has caused you and so many other creators here. i’m not asking for you to stick around on here, but i hope you know just how meaningful you and your art have been on here. you’re amazing. /pos

Hey, this ask has done a lot more than you would think. Thank you, you are very sweet. <3

I've kind of made up my mind about what I'm gonna do for a while now, but I've simply been... too busy and overwhelmed to take the time to let you guys know. I'm not going to delete my tumblr, there's just. Too much here that I don't want to lose.

So far the game plan is: keep my tumblr. But do not upload anymore art or writing on it - not because it's gonna get scraped, because it was already getting scraped anyway, AI company deal or not. It's pretty much unavoidable at this point, unfortunately. I simply do not trust Tumblr with my data, if they're going to sell EVERYTHING, including private messages and such, so I'm not going to give it anything worthwhile to profit off of. Instead, I'm going to start uploading my art exclusively on Ao3, for now. I'll answer any asks I receive here on there too, as well. I'll figure some kind of system out. 🤔

The cool thing about uploading to Ao3 is that anyone subscribed to my profile or to the containment series I will make will get a notification anytime I upload something new. Having my art and writing in one place is likely going to be more convenient for you guys too, since you won't have to move across platforms to get the full experience. 😄It'll be different... but a platform getting too greedy for its own good won't stop me from finding ways to share my stories with y'all. I'll just find another solution.

(I've also been entertaining the idea of joining or making my own Discord server but. That one is a little more delicate. The idea of joining a server that has hundreds of members like a lot of this fandom's servers have, just. Makes me break into hives, lmao. (I am in the Ghost in the Machine fic server. I muted it an hour into joining, it was way too intense for me. |'D) That is way too many people, I simply cannot handle it. I'd be way more comfortable in a smaller group with a less rapid-fire rate of posting and conversation. I am also. Very picky about which servers I join, which makes asking for recommendations doubly awkward when I shoot them all down, haha... And making my own... Err, I can hardly keep up with a server I helped create for another fandom and mod for, I don't think I could handle two of them - I would need other people to handle the moderation for me, and I wouldn't trust just anyone to be a mod. I'd need to know them well enough to know I could trust them, and I... do not really know anyone in this fandom well enough to do that, sadly. I take server moderation very seriously, as someone who has had experience modding for forums back before social media was a thing. I do not know if that would make for a fun experience for everyone, and anyone who hasn't known that kind of supervised experience. It is comforting to me. It may be intimidating for others. So that's still a very hand-wavy, 'eehhhh' kind of thing still.)

All of this to say, that this isn't the last you'll see from me, far from it. I'll restrict my creative output to Ao3 for the foreseeable future, and I'll let you guys on here know when I make a new upload, so those of you who do not have an Ao3 account know when something new has happened.

So there you have it. 😊

[northern-passage]

Genuine thought as a fellow trans dude, I’ve seen a lot of (obviously non-serious) questions on other blogs about characters’ genitals such as “how does it look like?” and similar, and I think we all know & understand that such questions are extremely inappropriate to ask and (I hope) no one would actually go around asking these questions irl. Idk, I think we should treat trans characters just like cis ones, without any special “precautions”, so to normalise them and not make cis people treat them like fragile boxes, a thing which happens to a lot of us irl. Hope this doesn’t come off as an attack or anything lol.

no worries, i didn't take this as an attack at all. i actually agree with you, that's why i mentioned feeling conflicted about it and also mentioned that i've changed my stance on how i felt about handling Noel and Clementine in game and in explicit intimate scenes.

however, for me the problem comes from the fact that people... don't ask these kinds of questions about cis characters? i suppose people do get cheeky "who is the biggest 🤪" asks but i would hardly compare the two. to be a bit crude, no one is going to be asking if a cis character has a dick or not, or "what does it look like". of course it's natural for people to be curious, and i honestly encourage the open discussion and am happy to see trans bodies being talked about more in a positive way, but not everyone is going to be comfortable with it due to the inescapable transphobia online and in the community. sending me that kind of ask is like sending out an invitation for a debate or a discussion that i don't necessarily want to have. i also just don't think people should default to asking a random IF author on tumblr dot com to describe what bottom growth looks like.

and with most of these asks typically coming from someone who is anonymous, i have no way of truly knowing what the tone is, what their intentions are or why this is being asked - is it another trans person? or maybe someone who is just genuinely curious? or, more likely in my experience, is it someone who is going to immediately follow up this message with something transphobic after i answer? do i want to roll the dice and find out?

so while i agree with what you're saying, it's important to consider the context and the reality we live in. the IF community is not kind to trans people or trans characters. and as a trans person, my first priority is protecting myself and my mental health. so what i mean when i say "precautions," is that those precautions are for me, because i've had to deal with transphobic harassment here for years now, and i try to mitigate it as much as i can. it's also for my personal comfort - again, to be blunt, i'm simply just not comfortable discussing a trans character's genitals with anonymous strangers on the internet. it makes me feel vulnerable.

also i do want to say i didn't mean for any of that to come across as a dig at other authors - if you're comfortable answering those kinds of questions, that's really only something you can decide for yourself. like i said, this is just coming from my own experiences in IF and for my own personal comfort - i have previously talked a lot about trans stuff and gender and sexuality here, when i'm feeling up to it, but it is something that is very draining for me and can also be very upsetting.

basically: i do agree that it's important not to other trans characters or treat them any differently than cis characters, but i also think there are ways to do it that don't require me answering invasive questions or questions that i don't feel comfortable with as a real life trans person, you know what i mean?

[lesbianangeldust]

this chapter of the fic has unexpectedly developed a scene with val and angel SO I'm gonna post 2 versions, that way if u wanna save urself some tears u can avoid it!

[ardate]

sniffs. man. i really want this job :(

[chibipandaao3]

This next fic is going to be my second only Teen+ rated fic and I might (just on principle) have to make it mature 😅 I feel like I’m going off brand somehow.

But…the content is mature even if most of the incident and immediate fallout is “off camera”

Hmm

[studyinglavender]

trying to annotate with more intention. the result is it’s taking me a while to get through what would normally be a quick read, but i’m retaining a lot more information!